Mason decided the first task was to deal with his level. As a patron he had more time, but he saw little point in waiting.
A new power was no trivial thing, not to mention tiering up another. He went over the list, and soon saw his Feral Druid class and enhancing ‘Bold Strategy’ title was no joke.
On top of some of the familiar power choices, Mason now saw an extensive list of powers highlighted in green with a kind of transparent claw to indicate the source. They had a new ‘category’, too, called ‘Symbiotic.’ Mason could only assume that meant it worked with Streak.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, a bit overwhelmed. There were powers to see out of an animal’s eyes, to alter his shape to more creatures and without an essence. There was some kind of damn magic bite?
Streak gave him a quizzical look, and he just shrugged. Tier two decision first, maybe, he decided. That would be a lot easier. He briefly scanned his powers for the sake of completionism, then took Transformation without a second thought.
Regeneration had been the best choice he’d made in the apocalypse (with the possible exception of saving Haley…), and he didn’t see that changing any time soon. Whatever else a person’s plans in this ‘game’, they didn’t much matter if you were dead.
The description read something generic about being faster and more potent but he didn’t much care about the particulars. He looked back over the powers and slowly started to narrow it down.
“Still no innate bow,” he muttered. “Fucking ranger.”
He had a lot to choose from, and at this point was pretty open to whatever he thought might be good in itself. Already he could kill, he could take a hit. He had his traps and his resistances, his speed and his impressive physical stats. What he needed now was…more options.
What that meant exactly he wasn’t sure. There were other druid powers, all of which looked incredibly useful. On the other hand, after giving up his Avatar of Gaia prestige class his mana loss had been obvious. He had still gained some with Avatar of Cerebus, but not nearly as much.
Also many of the druid powers were basically ‘spells’, and he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he could somehow learn more spells in the right circumstances. Either with a druid elder or ‘god’, or with creatures like the nymphs…if he ever had the time…
But wasting an incredibly important power choice on something he could maybe just ‘learn’ seemed wasteful, no matter how useful it might be in the short term.
A new Feral Druid power called ‘Fang Brothers’ caught his eye. He read it again and again, trying to understand.
[Fang Brothers. Share reduced forms of innate items and passive abilities with any animal you have have an essence or bond with.]
Innate items and passive abilities. Did that mean…his Ranger’s Claws? His Sleeves? Transformation? Duality of Strength? What about his Blessings? Somehow he doubted that last one, but still…the possibilities…
There were of course plenty of Ranger shots and attacks that looked good. There were the old stealth options, too, but after his Sleeves he didn’t think he needed much more. And anyway the ‘subtle’ approach wasn’t often available. Or maybe just not his style.
In the end, he stopped fighting his gut, and took Fang Brothers. Streak needed to be more powerful and less vulnerable, and he hoped this line of thinking would accomplish both.
After the new text swirled to life, he knelt and watched Streak as he pulled up his pet profile. “Let me take a look,” he said, trying to pick up the creature’s paws.
Streak snorted and swatted at his hands with a little leap, but when he set his paws down Mason saw they were longer and slightly green, just like Mason’s swords. And he was pretty damn sure he saw the faint outline of tattoos running up the wolf’s legs.
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“Oh hell yes buddy,” he said, pulling at the wolf’s lips next to try and see his teeth. Streak apparently had enough inspection and pulled away with a slight growl. “Stop being a baby,” Mason said, trying to wrestle him steady.
Pretty soon the wolf was ramming into him with a playful yip, enough weight and strength Mason went down laughing but still pulling at the wolf’s lips to see. The teeth had an ever so slightly green tinge, too, and Mason just about hooted with success.
“Alright, alright!” he said, standing up with his hands raised. He knew he should cut the animal too just to test Transformation, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Anyway, he had little doubt they’d find out soon enough, and in the meantime he always had Shared Pain.
“You’re welcome by the way,” he said, half smacking half petting the wolf as it huffed and turned in impatient circles. “Can we run back to Nassau now, or do you want to keep making a fuss?”
Streak literally stuck out his tongue, and bolted straight towards Nassau.
“Why is it always a race,” Mason muttered, but couldn’t help the grin. He took off after his friend.
* * *
Mason had apparently forgotten his body was morphed into something…inhuman. And it wasn't much good for running. He felt like a misshapen anchor, limbs imbalanced, body unnaturally thick and impossibly heavy.
After tripping several times and crashing through the vegetation, he finally stopped and looked at his profile, particularly pulling up his bond with Streak.
He'd seen before he could take on some kind of half-wolf form. Would it fix his current...transformations? And if so, could he easily change back to 'normal'?
"How the hell does this power work?" he said out loud. Streak stopped and quirked his head and licked his lips, ignoring Mason’s problems with the distinct message of hunger.
"I'm having a crisis here and all you can think about is food," Mason grumbled, then rolled his eyes as the wolf's thoughts came back. "OK food and mates. That's not better. The point is you're supposed to...why am I even bothering. OK." Mason took a deep breath and braced himself. "Here goes."
He attempted to 'shift' to his 'half-wolf form', then narrowed his eyes when it seemed nothing happened.
Then his body twisted. It felt somewhere between a yawn and a sneeze—a compulsive bodily function you could maybe try and stop but probably shouldn't.
Fortunately it didn't hurt, though Mason was afraid that may yet come. After several moments of vague resistance, he let go and basically collapsed as his body contorted.
Then, it actually started to feel kind of good. It was like a full body stretch he'd neglected to take his whole life. He felt his limbs bending but into a shape that felt...perfectly natural, perfectly comfortable.
When it was over he stood and looked at his hands, which now ended in curved, dark greenish claws not so different than Streak's, but with the flexibility of human fingers.
He breathed, then shivered at the huge array of scent that struck him from every direction. He looked down at his body and found considerable fur and new flesh that felt warm and thick like armor. He touched his face but pulled away.
"Jesus." He looked at Streak, who stared at him seemingly without any interest or surprise. "Why doesn’t this freak you out?" He checked his manhood, and found that pretty much normal. It was strangely comforting. "Now how do I turn..."
Apparently he could just do it the same way, but the thing had a cooldown. Unlike Streak, apparently, he was stuck in his new form for a little while. At least he felt...symmetrical. And fleshy. And not like a person bent into the shape of a rock-smashing pick.
Without much further thought, he turned and ran on towards Nassau, still amazed at the knowledge of the woods ahead—the completeness of his Wayfinder power.
He knew now where the last Great Tree was—a fair distance to the North, a few days travel from Nassau even at Mason's speed. But he could sense Streak's excitement at the prospect, because another thing he knew they'd find for sure—besides giant animals like the huge moose Mason had seen those months ago—a great deal of wolves.
Running as a half-wolf seemed about as good as running as a man. Mason felt an urge to hunch forward, and even tested running on all fours a little but found it awkward. He stuck to a basically normal gait, letting his senses drift, amazed at the smells and sounds of the forest.
Once or twice he caught himself so intrigued and overwhelmed he almost followed, then laughed at the constant distraction of dogs.
"OK. Yes, I get it," he called to the nearby loping Streak with a laugh.
He ran all day and night with only a short break to hunt and eat. He was about to start a fire before his stomach kept on rumbling, and he stared long and hard at the sight of the dead grouse before simply tearing into it raw, right next to Streak.
It tasted fantastic. And he realized with his ridiculous vitality and regeneration powers he had no fear at all of getting sick.
It made good logical sense, he decided—better to avoid the light and smoke of a fire. Better to eat quickly and efficiently and not worry about butchering it or waiting. But he also knew he wouldn't do it if he was with other people. It seemed a step in a direction that would almost certainly frighten them, just like his...new form.
He shifted back to fully human when he reached Nassau, breathing a sigh of relief when his various 'transformations' were entirely gone. At least now he knew how to get rid of them, and wouldn't have to worry no matter how strange or severe he changed to suit a fight.
"It's Mason! Mason's back!"
A voice called from the top of the gate before it opened, and the call was echoed in various forms throughout the settlement. Mason took a deep breath and hoped he'd only been gone a few days. But he honestly had no idea.