Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  Everything was so unfair. This place was no different than the one he’d grown up in. The rich and powerful controlled everything and if you didn’t play by their ridiculous rules you got nothing.

  You got less than nothing.

  The wealthy and connected owned you, whether you wore a collar or not. Pain threaded up and down Hal’s arms, like hot wires burning into his skin. The pressure behind his eyes grew into an agonizing migraine that kept ratcheting higher and higher with no end in sight.

  It was unfair. How could anybody put a collar on such a gentle soul? Hal didn’t believe in classical evil but he knew right from wrong.

  And this was not right.

  That word, thought with such anger and force, broke the will of the ivory band. It shattered like glass but made only the faintest popping sound. Ashera’s shuddering gasp of air smothered the sound of the tiny ivory bits plinking to the stone floor.

  They fizzled like dying flames and vanished.

  Her eyes, watery and bloodshot, focused on him. They widened in alarm and it was only then that Hal realized he had pushed himself much farther than he ever would have before he found out he was going to be dead tomorrow.

  A quick glance at his HUD confirmed the use of his newfound Assimilation ability. The reduced rate must be truly terrible because, for only a couple seconds of use, both his SP and his HP were drained dry. He had a single point of HP left, the bar pitifully flashing its warning at him.

  Ashera lifted one shaking hand to her bare, bruised throat. She let out a strangled gasp of surprise when she felt only skin. Though the ivory band was gone, it had left a nasty mark that stood out mottled and livid against her creamy skin.

  “You did it,” she whispered in awe. Her sea glass eyes found Hal’s and she choked back a sob. Ashera started and stopped a few times but only managed to get out two words, “How? Why?”

  Now that it was all over, Hal slumped to the side suddenly feeling scraped and raw like a hollowed-out gourd. “Nobody deserves to be enslaved.”

  “But you owe me nothing. Why would you risk death?”

  Hal gave her a lazy smile. He was so very tired. “Should be pretty obvious. I was going to die anyway. What does it matter if it’s now instead of in the morning?”

  Ashera scooted closer, her hands cupping Hal’s cheeks. They were strangely clammy, not warm like before but just as soft. Which if he were more alert, Hal may have found it funny how it was the temperature of her hands he found strange. And not the cow horns jutting from the sides of her head.

  Her hands glowed much brighter than they had before. That same golden light spilled out and Hal felt a bracing wind swirl around him. Far from the relaxing, soothing healing she had performed before, this was something else. It made him alert. He felt like he could run a mile without getting winded.

  When she let her hands fall from his face a prompt danced across his vision.

  Ashera casts Bracing Cure, you recover 19 HP.

  You recover 9 SP.

  [Sympathy: Ashera] attained.

  Hal wanted to ask what that Sympathy message was about but unlike a normal MMO which would have had a whole help section for new prompts and the like, whatever rules governed here were harder to find.

  Besides, if he was going to die tomorrow it didn’t matter anyway.

  “I wish I could do more for you,” she said, eyes downcast. “You have given me my freedom and yet I cannot repay the favor. As if such a thing were even possible.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was the right thing to do.” Of that, he was absolutely sure. Most things he was never sure of but the steely resolve he felt was undeniable. So what if he never got home, he’d saved somebody.

  It felt pretty good.

  Twin glittering trails traced their way down Ashera’s cheeks. She put a hand to her lips to still their trembling. “I’m sorry. I never even got your name. Or listened to your life’s story. I am willing, it will ease your burden. This is something I would like to do for you.”

  “My name is Hal. And I think… I’m good.”

  Ashera looked at him questioningly. “You do not want to unburden yourself?”

  A ghost of a smile traced itself on Hal’s face. It was obvious nobody had declined before and for a moment he was tempted to cave. But he found he didn’t have much of a life to unburden.

  Not much of a life at all, as a matter of fact.

  When Hal didn’t say anything more Ashera nodded, reached into her strangely flexible suit of armor, and pulled out a small vial no bigger than his thumb. It was filled with the most brilliant blue liquid he’d ever seen.

  “This,” Ashera said, holding it up to what little light there was. “Is… something I was saving for myself.” Her eyes darted to the side and her cheeks colored. They were beginning to go back to normal but that mark on her neck would be there for days more.

  “It’s poison,” she added, handing the small glass vial to Hal. “Painless, near-instant. I may not be able to save you from your fate but I can provide you with the agency to end things on your terms. I am… sorry.”

  Hal curled his fingers around the vial. It was strangely cold, like holding an ice cube that never melted. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say. The icy certainty that he was going to die had seemed a far-off thing. When he was flailing about trying to save Ashera it had been something he was willing to accept.

  But now? Hal wasn’t sure he could do it.

  For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure it was going to happen. Some persistent denial over the grim reality of his situation prevented him from believing his death was only hours away.

  “You should go,” he said hoarsely. “I assume it’s dark out?”

  Ashera nodded.

  “Good. Then go while the light hides the marks of your freedom.” Hal pointed at his own neck and she raised a hand to the marks. It looked bad, even in the dim light. And she wasn’t wearing anything but that strange armor that flexed and bent but looked like plate mail. No cloth that she could use to cover up her neck.

  Ashera leaned forward and planted a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. He was so stunned he didn’t have time to react other than give her a dull, shocked expression that made her smile.

  Her hands came around and reaffixed the bandage to his wrist, covering the mark once more.

  “The guards will not bother to search you when they take you out,” she said, standing. “I would at least wait until you see the sun.” Her eyes flicked to the hand that held the vial then back to Hal’s eyes. “The sunrise is beautiful here.”

  One last sunrise. That didn’t sound so bad.

  7

  Ashera had left hours ago and Hal still kept thinking about that kiss like an idiot. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

  He finally did something good with his life.

  After twenty-odd years of flailing around, dropping out of college, and enduring his parents’ “master plan” for him, he had failed at every venture he set out to do. Ended up a loser doing part-time jobs for barely livable wages.

  Here, in this strange magical realm that he still wasn’t sure was real, he had done something that mattered. He had freed somebody from a life of slavery. That had to count for something.

  Hal turned the vial over in his hand, examining it in the low light. It had a tiny stopper keeping the liquid in and a dollop of green wax over it.

  It would be the easiest thing in the world to break the seal with his thumbnail and pop the stopper off in one go. It would only take seconds to end his own life. On his terms. Without giving them the satisfaction of taking it from him.

  Despite the appeal, he couldn’t do it. He had tried several times and it must have been close to dawn at that point but he still could not bring himself to commit the act.

  The hall outside his door echoed with distant thumping once more. “Time’s up,” he muttered to himself.

  Hal curled his fingers lightly around the vial, ran his thumbnail thro
ugh the soft wax, and held it against the stopper. One flick, that’s all it’d take. As the door rattled and let out an ear-piercing creak when it opened, he held down the fear that battered at his resolve.

  His heart pounded against his ribcage. This is it. I’m really going to die in some godforsaken place that I never heard of. I don’t even know where I am! The hulking brute of a guard came in. A large ring of keys jangling in his hand.

  The sort of classic low-tier video game villain that treated his charges with casual brutality during the course of his duties. In short, not the kind of guy Hal wanted to mess with.

  If Hal could see the man’s level, he bet the guard would be at least a dozen or more above him. There was no chance he could take him. And from the guard’s cruel sneer set into a deeply pitted and scarred face of patchy beard - it looked like a failed chia pet - it seemed the guard thought the same.

  “Back yourself against that wall now real nice or I’m going to introduce you to Clarabell.” One meaty hand clapped the stained and battered club dangling from his belt.

  Hal did as he was told and pressed his back against the wall, scooting inelegantly across the floor.

  The guard had to be at least six-foot-five and weigh north of 300 pounds. Equal split muscle and fat Hal guessed by the way he spilled out of his leather outfit.

  Bending down to unlock the large padlock that held Hal’s chains in place, the guard kept one jaundiced eye on Hal.

  “I don’t want no trouble today,” rumbled the guard. “You get up on your feet and shuffle down the hall to your death and we’ll get along just fine, you and me. Start some trouble, and Clarabell will teach you some manners. Got me?”

  Hal nodded frantically. He didn’t want to die by savage beating any more than he wanted to die by poison or whatever mechanism they had in store for him. “Just wanna see the sunrise,” he said, surprised to find his voice so calm and detached.

  The guard grunted. In what might have been agreement.

  Slowly, Hal got to his feet. It was an awkward and clumsy go of it but he managed not to fall over or drop the vial clutched in his right hand.

  Hal’s eyes locked onto the keys as the guard fussed with putting them back onto his belt. He walked to the door and motioned with his free hand for Hal to walk through.

  A plan began to unfold in Hal’s head.

  New Quest: Break Free.

  You have been given the opportunity - slim though it may be - to escape your untimely end. Break out of prison and taste freedom.

  Objectives

  Exit the prison of your own volition.

  Additional objectives available.

  Rewards

  500 Experience Points.

  Sanctum-Fallwreath Reputation (Variable).

  Additional rewards available.

  It was a long shot and in the end, he would still likely die. But having the Quest to urge him on toward freedom made all the difference. It actually felt possible. He stood up a little straighter, which was hard with the chains and manacles weighing him down.

  Hal shuffled, the chains rattling the whole way. Their clanking bouncing and redoubling down the stone hallway. He made his way out of the cell and into the hall. Out of habit he poked his head out first and looked both ways.

  Torches guttered low in iron sconces every ten or twenty feet. Heavy iron-belted doors marched down both sides of the hall. It was barely large enough for the guard, and there were no other guards stationed that he could see.

  It was as perfect as he could hope for.

  Truthfully, over the last few hours, Hal had been certain Elora would come and rescue him. He didn’t know why. Some fanciful belief that maybe he really was special. He’d taken the time to look at his newfound abilities, Assimilation and Mana Investiture but they had yielded no further information.

  The reality was, nobody was coming to save him.

  Ashera had given him a way out but it wasn’t the one he was going to take. Freeing her had done something to him. It made him feel proud, maybe for the first time in his life, to be himself.

  Hal stumbled out into the hall, chains scraping against the rough cobbles underfoot. At least they hadn’t taken his boots off. Guess they realized I’d be dead soon, stripping me probably wasn’t a high priority. It’s not like I had any weapons.

  The guard shoved him hard between the shoulders and Hal went sprawling to the ground. His HP went down a single point with the impact. “Thanks,” he said reflexively and started to push himself off the floor.

  Instead, he was lifted like a doll by the guard and set on his feet. “You say something to me?” he grumbled at Hal.

  “Yeah,” Hal said, tasting blood. He turned around and spat it at the guard. “I said, ‘thanks’.”

  The guard stiffened, thick bulging veins popped out on a neck that Hal wasn’t entirely sure was there. “If you really wanted to meet Clarabell, you only had to ask.”

  Hal’s heart beat a staccato rhythm against his ribs. He’d only have one chance. There was no faking the fear that came over him or the way his eyes bulged when the guard took his free hand and reached across his considerable bulk for the club at his side.

  There.

  While the guard was busy, Hal flicked off the stopper of the vial and opened his hand around it, aiming for the guard’s face.

  Time seemed to slow and stumble.

  The blue liquid splashed through the air, barely a thimble’s worth. It spattered against the man’s patchy cheek.

  Hal dropped the vial in case anything remained to drip out onto him.

  You use [Widow’s Brew].

  The [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] takes 300 points of damage.

  Additional Effect: Paralysis, Poison.

  The guard looked up slowly but the color was already draining out of his face. His jaw slackened and the words that came out of his mouth were heavily slurred and thick like trying to talk after an injection of Novocain.

  One thick, meaty arm reached out and Hal barely staggered out of the way. The guard fell face-first into the cobbles below, a loud crunch telling Hal he probably broke his nose on the way down.

  Ashera had said the poison was instant,. That hadn’t seemed instant at all, though it did look pretty painless. The guard had seemed more confused than anything.

  The guard groaned and one arm twitched towards Hal. Hal backpedaled as best he could but the guard was slowly dragging his bulk down the hall toward him.

  It was then that Hal realized his mistake. His mind reeled back to basic physiology. It was the same reason a really big guy could drink beer after beer without getting drunk. The guard’s size meant he had needed a much larger dose of poison.

  Something Hal didn’t have.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Hal hobbled over to the guard. Luckily, the poison’s paralysis was setting in, stilling the man’s movements.

  Hal only felt a little bad about stepping onto the man’s back. He knelt on the man’s shoulder blades, then and dragged the length of chain between his wrists up under the guard’s chin and around his neck.

  “You didn’t really give me much choice,” he leaned down and whispered to the man.

  With a muttered prayer, Hal crossed the chains behind the man’s neck and pulled as hard as he could. The guard gasped and gurgled. It wasn’t the way Hal would have liked to escape from a dungeon.

  You choke [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite].

  Additional Effect: Suffocation.

  [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 50 points of damage (Suffocation).

  [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 70 points of damage (Suffocation).

  [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite] suffers 90 points of damage (Suffocation).

  The way it should have gone down was that he had managed to get the drop on a guard, stole a sword, and with some fancy maneuvers managed to slay the guards one by one until he made his brilliant escape.

  The reality of choking a poisoned guard to death because
the poison was meant for somebody a third the man’s size and hadn’t quite been able to do the trick was far darker.

  Hal strained with all his pitiful might. and After what felt like minutes the guard went slack and heavy beneath him.

  Hal had been briefly concerned that he was faking it but when the prompt flashed across his vision, he knew the guard was dead.

  You defeat [Dungeon Guard Rokenson | Elite].

  You gain 1,080 Experience Points.

  Novice reaches Level 2.

  Novice reaches Level 3.

  You have 10 unspent Attribute Points awaiting distribution.

  Your HP, SP, and MP are fully restored.

  You have unlocked Improvised Weaponry Skill (Level 0).

  Realizing that anything can be a weapon if you put your mind to it, you’ve taken the first step toward the ultimate goal of beating your enemy with the body of another enemy. Unlocks the Improvised Crafting trait.

  You have unlocked the Improvised Crafting trait.

  Improvised Crafting allows you to outfit any item with atypical ingredients, gaining the ability to swap out one ingredient for a similar type, resulting in a different finished product.

  Your Improvised Weaponry Skill has risen to Level 1.

  +2% Improvised weapon damage (2%).

  +2% Improvised weapon attack speed (2%).

  Brilliant golden light flashed in the air, the sound of shimmering stardust echoed in his ears. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t some alarm - it was far too pleasant for that - but the Level Up notification.

  He suddenly felt like he could have fought the guard hand-to-hand and come out on top. It was a rushing thrill that surged through him, reinvigorating mind and body.

  His hunger and thirst evaporated along with every other hurt he had acquired. His cracked lips, bleeding wrists, and aching belly were distant memories.

  Breathing hard, Hal rolled off the guard and fished around for the keys. Once he found them, he unlocked the manacles.