Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  Oh boy, this is exactly the scenario that I make myself look accidentally super-racist. Hal played dumb and shrugged. I’m so very glad I don’t have 1 intelligence anymore.

  She made a frustrated sound and shook her head. “Nobody I’ve ever met, in all my life, has had dark eyes. They are not only rare, but they’re also practically unheard of.” Elora leveled her blue-gray eyes at him. “All except one type of person. I assume running through his castle you’ve seen the images. He really thinks a lot of himself. They all do.”

  There was a general round of grumbling agreement from the Rangers, and a particularly hearty “harrumph” from Altres.

  Hal had seen the images. The Founder had a portrait of himself every ten feet, he’d need to be blind to miss them. “All Founders have dark eyes like me?”

  Elora nodded. “Now you get it.”

  His brow crumpled. “Then why didn’t you try to kill me? If all the Founders are as corrupt as that guy.” Hal hiked a thumb in what he hoped was the general direction of Sanctum-Fallwreath.

  No, no, no. Stop talking. Do you want them to murder you? Hal found that despite his mounting horror, the words continued to pour out. This is what I get for leaving my charisma at 1.

  “Wouldn’t you want to vent your frustration with him on somebody like me?” he continued, unable to stop himself. “Or at least prevent me from reaching whatever power he has?”

  One of the Rangers burst out laughing, it was a sweet melodious sound. “He is a funny one.” Her accent had a sing-song lilt to it.

  “Hal, listen to me very carefully.” Elora turned on the root she sat on to face him. “You are marked, just like a Founder. Nobody knows why they turned into what they’ve become.

  “But I do know they weren’t always like that. You are the first new Founder anybody has seen alive in decades. You represent all that they have lost. You are the hope for all the people who feel cheated and oppressed. Why would we want to hurt that?

  “Don’t you understand? With you, we could make a safe haven, a Sanctum for all the people who have been forced to live in the Wilds.” She raised a hand to forestall Hal’s objection.

  “I know you said you want nothing to do with it,” Elora continued. “But all I ask is that you wait until we get there. Once you see it with your own eyes, if you still wish to turn away, I won’t stop you. Everybody has their right to live their life how they choose. Will you at least do that for me?”

  It was a hard point to argue against. Being a savior, a leader against tyranny and corruption. Only one small problem. Hal was not a leader. Even if this place was growing on him, he didn’t know the first thing about being a leader. Much less a Founder.

  Hal hung his head. “All right, you win. But once we get there, I can’t promise you I’ll be able to do anything even if I do stay. I don’t know what the flork this mark does and I don’t even know the first thing about magic.” He motioned to the falchion he had set against the nearby root. “I can’t even use that thing.”

  One of the Ranger’s grinned at him and stood, drawing out a long curved sword that shimmered in the firelight. It sent a shiver down his spine. “I can help with that,” he said.

  11

  Angram hits you for 12 points of damage.

  “Son of a bench that hurts!” Hal yelped. His HP dropped precipitously.

  Even though they were only using wooden training weapons, Angram’s hits were surprisingly painful. Hal didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to train with only 1 VIT.

  With just 3 VIT, it was still a horrendously painful experience. Each of Angram’s hits took off a fifth of his HP.

  Last night, after dinner, Angram introduced him to the basic forms and footwork of swordsmanship. And though Hal had taken some basic fencing lessons in high school, they didn’t prepare him at all for the rigors of an actual weapon.

  He was so tired after their initial lesson that night that he hardly remembered about trying out his new spell. As soon as Hal found a bedroll to collapse upon, he was out like a light.

  Angram woke him up the next day, bright and early with drifting tendrils of fog all about the ground to resume their training.

  While the other Rangers got a lay of the land and packed up what was left of the campsite, Hal trained. Or rather, was bruised and battered as he attempted to inelegantly use the unwieldy thing in his hand.

  Hal rushed in, feinted left, and then drew a line with the tip of the wooden sword from Angram’s hip to shoulder. The Ranger took the hit with a grunt of pain.

  You hit Angram for 3 points of damage.

  “Good!” came Angram’s clear ringing voice. “Again.”

  Angram raised his curved wooden sword in a salute and dashed in faster than Hal could even hope to compete with. It was all he could do to put one foot behind himself to brace the oncoming blows and hold his practice sword out to guard against the worst of it.

  You parried Angram’s attack.

  You parried Angram’s attack.

  You partially parry Angram’s attack, you take 5 points of damage.

  Every parry drained his SP by a large chunk. It was a little less than the HP damage it would have caused and after just a few parries his SP bottomed out resulting in a partial parry.

  Which, Hal hadn’t even realized was a thing.

  Angram, the Ranger with a cruel disarming smile, a wickedly savage fighting style, and skill far superior to his own had taken him under his wing as an apprentice.

  Or maybe as a punching bag. Hal wasn’t sure yet.

  “Very good,” Angram said. “I think that’s enough for now, eh?”

  Lathered in sweat, bruised, and with more than a few bleeding scrapes, Hal nodded. He was down to 46 HP, 3 more HP than he should have thanks for the [Ranger’s Repast] HP boost.

  Considering his HP regeneration rate of 10.3, he’d heal up the damage while they were marching for the day. About two hours and he would be right as rain.

  It was too bad that campfires usually attracted monsters. Or else they would set a proper campfire every time they ate. The Rangers, with their high Survival skill, could make a campfire that tripled regeneration.

  That knowledge did little to comfort him though. The pain of training was all too real.

  Training Complete: +67 Experience Points.

  You have unlocked Parry Skill (Level 0).

  Avoiding harm during a fight while remaining effective is a difficult balance to strike. Some wear heavy armor and strap on large shields to create a bulwark against which many foes struggle to penetrate. Others, like yourself, prefer to use their weapons to their full benefit by parrying and defending against deadly strikes.

  Your Parry Skill has risen to Level 1.

  +1% Parry success (+1%).

  -1% Parry stamina cost (-1%).

  You have unlocked Sword Skill (Level 0).

  The weapon of choice for would-be heroes and highway bandits alike. Under Angram’s watchful gaze you have taken the first steps to ensure that you consistently stick your enemies with the pointy end first.

  Your Sword Skill has risen to Level 1.

  +1% Sword damage (+1%).

  -0.25% Sword durability loss (-0.25%).

  He repressed a sigh. While he was happy to have two new skills, the EXP from training was abysmal. If he wanted to Level Up, it’d take him at least ten more similar sessions to hit Level 5.

  That wasn’t a prospect Hal was looking forward to. But considering the road ahead, perhaps it was for the best. He would rather get beat up by Angram than have to face a murderous guard or some monster that would eat him if he failed to parry an attack.

  That’s probably why the EXP is so low. It’s safer.

  Once they were finished that morning, Angram offered him a look at his sword. In exchange for a peek at Hal’s.

  Hal took look at Angram’s sword and though he still didn’t have a good grasp on the stats in this world, he knew a vastly superior weapon when he saw one.

  Voice
taker

  [Sword] (Epic)

  Item Level: 32

  DMG: 22

  DEX +3 | AGI +3 | MP +45

  Additional Effect: Silence

  DUR: 500/500

  Lv.12 Ranger

  Compared to his [Deserter’s Falchion], Angram’s [Voicetaker] was in an entirely different league. Hal didn’t miss the rarity tag next to the type of item it was in the brackets.

  “Hey, Angram?” Hal asked, lifting his gaze from the curved blade to meet the elf’s questioning look. “Epic is a sort of rarity right? How far apart is uncommon from epic?”

  The Ranger stirred the pot with a long wooden spoon and put on a pensive expression. “There are quite a few rarity levels. I only know the first ten. Ashera might know more, she received a proper education after all. The first ten should suit anybody well enough though. Anything beyond that is unlikely to be just be found lying about.

  “In order we have: primitive, common, uncommon, superior, rare, epic, heroic, fabled, legendary, and mythic. If you think of them like tiers, your sword would be a tier-three rarity while mine is a tier-six. So, roughly double the rarity of yours. Though that doesn’t really track. Each tier is a pretty large jump and there are further leaps in power every few rarity tiers past that.”

  “So, uncommon isn’t all that special then,” Hal reasoned. It wasn’t far off from other games.

  “Pretty much.” Angram lifted the spoon to his lips and tasted the yellowish steaming mush. “Needs more salt.”

  As the Ranger took out a small pouch and added pinch after pinch of salt to the food, Hal looked over at the rest of their small camp. In the light of the morning, even with the low-lying fog, Hal could make out the ancient trees and towering boughs filling the space with a green light.

  It was oddly serene, considering recent events. Everything felt so far away. Removed. “I can see why you Rangers prefer to stay out here,” Hal said wistfully.

  Angram turned to offer him a warm smile. It was hard to reconcile the elf before him and the one that so gleefully inflicted painful lessons on him.

  It was a savory mush, similar to grits but with a deeper, nuttier flavor that he couldn’t place.

  Once Hal finished up his first bowl, Angram took it and filled it up again. “Trust me, this’ll be good for you,” he said to Hal’s questioning look.

  You eat [Remonta].

  +12% SP.

  +12% SP Regeneration | +12% HP Regeneration.

  Duration: 8hrs.

  While Hal appreciated the gesture. One, judging by the smirking expressions of the other Rangers had been done largely for his benefit, he wasn’t thrilled at the implications.

  They were on the move again shortly after. The Rangers were all business once breakfast was over.

  Faster SP and HP regeneration meant he could withstand more training sessions. Something he had hoped would be a once-a-day affair. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Ever since last night, Angram had ruthlessly been “tutoring” Hal in the art of swordsmanship. Without the use of his chain, unfortunately. They didn’t have a wooden chain to practice with, and even if they did it would still hurt.

  They were trying to train during what little downtime they had between long stretches of forced marching. The last thing anybody wanted was to sustain an injury.

  Healing was costly, even the minor magic that Ashera wielded weakened her considerably. And during their flight from the region of Fallwreath, everybody needed to be in top form.

  It felt more like he was being beaten up for sport. Whenever they called to break for a meal or to rest, Angram managed to find Hal no matter where he tried to hide.

  The problem with Rangers was, there was no place to hide from them. Especially not in a forest. It was practically their home turf. All of Hal’s attempts had been easy to thwart.

  Not that there was anywhere for him to go if he didn’t want to get lost.

  He wouldn’t have been surprised if Elora was in on it. No doubt she’d tell him how badly he needed the training.

  It was true but that didn’t make it any better.

  Later that day, Hal was once more enduring a savage beating from Angram’s lightning-fast display of swordsmanship. Every time Hal appeared to have improved even a little bit, Angram turned up the intensity.

  Left, right, left, whipped Angram’s wooden sword. Hal tried to keep up, parrying with all his might. The added SP he gained from his second meal of [Remonta] helped but he was still nearly exhausted after that last salvo.

  Angram let up his assault and stepped back. He had an unnatural sense for when Hal was at his wit’s end. He would push him just enough and then they’d take a break.

  The Elf put his sword, point-first into the soft earth. “I think that’s enough for now. We still have miles to go. And we need to get there in one piece. You did well. You’re improving at an impressive pace.”

  Hal took the rare praise and tried not to smile. It was hard. Angram was a lot of things but he was not free with his compliments. Most things warranted a shrug of his shoulders.

  Training Complete: +75 Experience Points.

  Trying to remember what Elora had taught him earlier that day, Hal jabbed his falchion into the ground, crossed one hand over his heart, and bowed over the pommel of the sword until it almost touched the hand over his heart.

  I really hope I did that right.

  Angram’s bright ruby-red eyes widened fractionally. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Angram returned the salute, a sign of deep respect among Elves. If Elora was to be believed.

  Speak of the devil.

  Elora walked over to them, a frown spreading across her features as she noticed the cuts and scrapes. Sometimes she treated him like an easily broken family heirloom.

  Looking over at Angram, she said, “Don’t be so rough with him, he’s still a Novice.” She shot Hal a sympathetic look.

  There was a sparkle of mischief in Angram’s eyes and he gave her a little mocking bow. “I am treating him as a swordsman’s apprentice should be. I will not coddle him and stunt his growth but you will be happy to know I am only using the blunt side of my wooden sword.”

  “Wait, what?” Hal looked sharply up at the Ranger who was doing his best to stifle a chuckle. “All of this,” Hal pointed to the map of pain he felt all over his body, “is from the blunt side? Why does it feel like you were stabbing me then?”

  Angram grinned and shrugged. “The mind is a funny thing. It wants to believe what it will. And I am very capable with a blade. I could use a twig if that would make you feel better or wrap my wooden sword in a cloak but I would not presume to dishonor you. Unless that is your wish?”

  “No,” Hal shot back. “No, that’s fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. How the hell did Angram manage to do so much damage to him?

  Without having to be asked, Ashera was at his side in a moment, startling him out of his thoughts. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders. The warm sensation of her healing washed through him and his HP rebounded up to full.

  Ashera casts Bracing Cure.

  You recover 25 points of HP.

  You recover 20 points of SP.

  He never got used to the way healing magic seemed to lift him up. The intense warmth was like coming in from a blizzard to a warm fire and taking a nice long drink of fresh hot cocoa.

  There was nothing quite like it.

  Of all the skills, getting his Sword skill up was proving to be quite difficult. Then again, Hal assumed that training wasn’t remotely as effective as actual combat.

  Not that he was quick to put his life on the line again just for some skill-ups.

  Hal looked up. There was one particularly heavy gray-black cloud that hung over their position like a rainstorm waiting to let loose.

  Even with the thick forest canopy above, it was easy to spot. Ever since he had come to this world it had either been completely overcast or raining. Seasonal depression must run rampant here.“Ashera?�
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  “Hmm?” Hal was suddenly aware of how close she was to him. Since last night she had changed out of her armor and donned a set of Ranger’s garb. She looked stunning. He wished he could get a set of that armor. His clothes were getting rattier by the minute.

  “I was curious, is it always this gloomy and rainy here?” He pointed up at the sky.

  “It is autumn, but the weather has been unseasonably grim lately I will agree. It may be a portent of your arrival.” She saw how Hal flinched at that and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Or it may simply be some bad weather. As we go farther west toward the Shiverglades it will get colder and darker.”

  “How far are the Shiverglades?” Hal had never heard of the place before but it didn’t sound the most friendly of places.

  “Weeks more on foot but first we have to get out of Fallwreath’s borders,” Elora said from Hal’s other shoulder. Her sudden appearance nearly made him jump out of his skin. “We’re nearly there. Most of the Rangers operate in this corridor of the Wilds and much of Fallwreath’s patrols have been cut down to save coin. We should be safe… from people.”

  “And I assume that means we have something else to worry about?” Hal said. His skin crawled thinking of that hulking monstrosity that had been a cross between an ape and a praying mantis.

  “Monsters, mostly. Some wild animals but there’s a reason people gather to the Sanctums, Hal. They provide protection against the Manastorms and against monsters.” Elora looked him up and down. “We’re nearly at the stockpile, we’ll outfit you soon in proper attire.”

  Hal didn’t much like the sound of Manastorms. “So what… precisely are Manastorms?”

  “That’s an interesting question,” Altres said, coming up beside them. He had a new sword belted on his hip. Hal noticed it wasn’t the one Altres had his eyes on but rather a simple thin blade. His clothing was cleaner but like Hal’s, at the end of its lifespan.