Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  Elora shut her eyes and did a quick mental survey of her wounds. Nothing too serious, ribs that were bruised rather than broken.

  Painful lacerations instead of worryingly deep cuts. And one hell of a concussion but nothing seemed broken. Just a lot of sprains, bruises, and several open wounds.

  The potion brought her back. It didn’t cure all that ailed her. Not unless he had another [Greater Health Potion] in his bag. Not that she would have been surprised if he had.

  In fact, Giel nudged her and offered another. Elora forced herself to turn it down. Not because of pride or mistrust. As a member - however distantly - of the Founder Rebels, Giel had her full confidence.

  The only thing that concerned her was how well he seemed to know Hal. The keen-eyed Ranger didn’t miss how Giel knew the man when they walked up to his bar.

  There was no reason for it that she knew. His story about a task given to him from his mother was impossible to fact check. But there was no mistaking that he recognized Hal. And since Hal only recently came to Aldim… something was off about that.

  She had (secretly) tasked three of the Rangers to gather more information about Giel and his family. It wasn’t mistrust, but curiosity.

  Despite the oddity, Elora did not doubt that Giel was genuine in his desire to help. But she was absolutely certain that he was holding something back about why he was helping.

  And Elora needed to be sure. Of course, trapped down beneath Murkmire in ruined tunnels and strange storerooms meant she couldn’t get that information.

  Giel pocketed the potion with a shrug and seeing Elora’s determined expression, got up and offered her his hand.

  She accepted his aid. He pulled her to her feet easily and it was only his sturdiness that kept her on them. The room swayed as she stood up.

  Mira, in typical gold elf fashion, was causing a racket and repeatedly defiling the Stone Golem’s corpse. That is to say, she was jabbing her spear and kicking at a pile of rocks.

  “I’m okay,” Elora said to Giel, using one hand to brace herself against the wall. The big lamora let go but looked uneasily at her.

  Alerted by the disturbance, Mira looked up from her poking. “Thought we lost you for a moment,” she said. Like Giel, Mira also sported a fair amount of superficial damage. Nothing some herbs and a long night’s rest wouldn’t cure, anyway.

  Something they would need to go about setting up sooner rather than later. Her wounds would close up a lot faster with her Camping Buff active.

  Using the wall as her guide, Elora made her way over to the golem’s corpse. Which, she supposed, had also become its cairn.

  A quick look over her log informed her that it had awarded a hefty chunk of EXP. Not nearly on the level of the horrifying tumorous monster that inevitably separated the group, but 4,500 EXP was nothing to scoff at.

  With what they gained in the tunnels getting to this room, it placed her within a few thousand of being able to hit Level 16 Ranger.

  The loot was nothing special. At least not for Elora. Some [Pristine Mana Cores] that she could use when she tapped her MP, and an [Inscribed Rune] she couldn’t read. If Yesel were there, she would be able to read it.

  Guess it’ll have to wait until we’re back with the Rangers.

  Elora was used to the dangers of the wide world. She had seen the savage brutality of a Manastorm strip the skin from somebody unfortunate to be caught out in it without protection.

  To her, dying one moment and then planning for the future the next was a matter of course. This was far from her first brush with the greedy clutches of death. While she didn’t court the Cold King, she certainly was no wallflower.

  “We need to make camp,” she announced. “It’s late. We’ve been marching and fighting almost all day and we’re risking Exhaustion if we push on. We can camp in the corner over there and pile the golem’s stones in front of us.”

  The Dragoon nodded her approval. She immediately began hauling as many stones as she could carry. Giel, however, looked at her nonplussed.

  “Ya’ll mind explaining?” he asked.

  Mira cut in before Elora could even open her mouth, “The golem was just a pile of rocks when we first came into the room, yah? So, we pile the rocks in front of our campsite and any creatures smart enough to understand what it is will leave it – and us – alone.”

  Elora motioned to Mira, indicating her agreement.

  “Well, all right then,” he said. “What can I do to lend a hand?”

  Normally, Elora would have been insulted that somebody had suggested a Ranger needed help setting a simple campsite. But long days with Hal and his mix of ignorance and oddly refreshing desire to aid had tempered the fiery Ranger.

  “Help Mira place the stones just over there,” Elora said, pointing to a spot on the floor ten yards from the corner that would be their campsite. “If you finish, rest by the fire.”

  The big lamora nodded and scooped up dozens of the golem stones, lugging them over to where Mira had started her the pile.

  In short order, they had the golem resituated, a campfire built, bedrolls laid out, and a meal going. The food was nothing fancy, a hearty [Root Stew] that would go a long way to helping them recover throughout the night.

  Not to mention, as a Ranger, Elora’s Camping Buff was one of the best around. She could practically see their HP bars filling up. And that was no small feat.

  You eat the [Root Stew].

  +35% HP Regeneration.

  +15% SP Regeneration.

  Duration: 6hrs.

  You gain the effect of Camping.

  +340% HP Regeneration.

  +340% SP Regeneration.

  +340% MP Regeneration.

  +170% Healing effects.

  Duration: While Camping.

  While they ate, Giel and Mira bantered about, occasionally trying to rope Elora in as well.

  The Ranger stayed focused on her task. She rooted around in her herb bag, looking for the wide leaves, large pink flowers, and thick roots of [Falsifal]. She also pulled out a jar containing several desiccated, yet oily, leaves.

  While Giel and Mira talked and ate, Elora set a pot of water among the coals of the fire and prepared three cups for tea. Alchemy was great, but among Elora’s most treasured skills she had learned at her father’s side was Foraging.

  Utilized properly, natural ingredients could be made to heal almost any affliction. They could speed the mending of broken bones, torn flesh, savage burns, and even fugue states. It required only a deep knowledge of plants and their proper preparations.

  Most of what could be Foraged was also very useful for Alchemy, but there was a lot that Elora could do with [Adder’s Tongue], [Agrimony], and [Falsifal] without the need to brew a potion. And that’s where Elora’s Herbalism skill came into play.

  [Falsifal], for example, was found in the forests and plains. When the root was pulped, it was an effective cure against fresh burns, practically reversing the damage overnight. If instead, the roots were cut and the gelatinous insides were squeezed out and then added to a tea, it countered blood loss.

  Many herbs did not directly add HP like a potion might, but Elora had learned the truth about Herbalism – a sub-skill of Foraging – just as her father had before her. By taking care of the most egregious hurts, the body would recover faster. Freed from dealing with burns and poisons, a person would recover their HP faster.

  All without the need for potions or medicines that often had a cost. You couldn’t chug one potion after the other without risking several nasty side-effects.

  Toxication was a very real threat. More than one brave fighter died thinking they could hold off a horde of beasts by swigging one potion after the other in a defiant stand.

  As Elora was halfway through making their tea, she felt Mira and Giel’s eyes upon her.

  “What’re you making there?” Mira asked, leaning her lithe body too close for comfort as she tried to peek into the cup.

  “Falsifal tea,” Elora answered. �
�It’ll help us recover while we sleep.”

  The Warrior and Dragoon looked at each other curiously, then at Elora. Something had shifted in their demeanor but she couldn’t fathom what it was.

  There was a softening around their eyes. The wariness she usually expected when she offered herbal remedies melted away. In a cruel twist of fate, her Leadership was decent but her Charisma was quite poor.

  It wasn’t uncommon that people would sometimes react quite violently to her orders. Even more so when she expected them to drink a tisane.

  Discomfited, the Ranger bent back to her task. Boiling water poured, she produced a few crumbled leaves of [Ceran], a hardy shrub that grows in the northern reaches. While they didn’t need to ward off the cold – as was the tea’s primary benefit – Elora liked the slight citrusy tang of the brew.

  It also masked the bitter flavor of the [Falsifal].

  Cups handed out, Elora went back to preparing the [Adder’s Tongue], and the [Agrimony]. Each, when applied to a wound, sped up healing.

  [Adder’s Tongue], named for its forked leaf appearance growing from a single stalk, was a powerful anti-septic. And if the wound was not infected, it healed in half the time.

  [Agrimony], on the other hand, was ground into a poultice and applied to bruises. A single application would rid even the most severe bruises overnight. Most within a few hours.

  In Elora’s experience, people preferred the easier option of potions. They were often flavored – sickly sweet to the Ranger’s palate – and most would imbibe them with little concern for their quality or age.

  But when you tried grinding up well-prepared, but foul-smelling or tasting natural ingredients, everybody turned up their nose at it.

  So, it came as a surprise to Elora when both Mira and Giel openly accepted the acrid-smelling bandages she had soaked in [Adder’s Tongue] and [Agrimony] respectively.

  Neither uttered a word of complaint, even though Elora hadn’t bothered to mask the sharp bite of the [Agrimony].

  Each of them took turns watching for three hours while the others slept. Rather, they should have. Instead, Mira and Giel simply failed to wake the Ranger for her shift.

  In a group of three, a typical night would last about nine hours. Each member taking a three-hour-watch, and then resting for six. Mira and Giel had opted for a longer rest of ten hours, with the pair taking a five-hour-watch.

  Elora slept through without stirring once.

  When she awoke for her watch, Mira shook her head and tried to speak around a jaw-creaking yawn. “Sorry,” she said, once it was through. “But you looked so tired. We decided to let you sleep. How do you feel?”

  She should have been furious. Not only had the two made a decision without including her, but they also set the group back by at least an hour if not more. An hour that Hal or Ashera might not have.

  She should have been furious… but she was not. Warmth spread throughout her chest and she nodded her silent thanks. Her long rest, coupled with the benefits of Herbalism, brought each of them back to full fighting strength.

  You gain the effect of Well Rested.

  +2.4% Experience Points gained.

  +2.4% Skill Experience Points gained.

  +2.4% HP | +2.4% SP | +2.4% MP.

  +2.4% HP Regeneration.

  +2.4% SP Regeneration.

  +2.4% MP Regeneration.

  Duration: 10hrs.

  Unable to suffer more time wasted, the Ranger broke camp quickly and set a hard march back into the tunnels. They ate dried rations and drank from waterskins as they went.

  By her estimation, if they marched through breakfast they could make up for the lost time. If nothing stopped them or came to fight them, they might even gain some time back.

  Too many “ifs” for the Ranger.

  62

  Elora’s finely-tuned senses told her that something was wrong. They had traveled for most of the day without meeting any opposition. Much to Mira’s disappointment.

  It was one of the worst possible traps to fall into. And one that Elora personally knew killed more people than anything else. The carelessness that came from the lack of battle.

  Some people snapped and saw monsters in the dark. Others grew lax and when danger came, they were unprepared. In both events, the outcome was disastrous. Not to mention how mentally exhausting it was to stay on guard so long.

  The tunnels no longer held cunningly worked traps. Most of them were roughly hewn at best and in many places seemed to exit into naturally formed passages and caverns with glowing lichen.

  Throughout it all, Elora sensed something following them. A presence that she couldn’t shake.

  They walked in the light of their Guild badges. The interior of Murkmire’s mountain was surprisingly hollow. Almost as if it had been filled with something at one point and drained.

  There was no rhyme or reason to the wild tunnels that snaked back and forth. The only thing Elora could tell for certain was that they were winding deeper toward the heart of the mountain.

  If there was any hope of meeting up with Hal and Ashera, it would be by delving deeper into the mountain. The pair had fallen a great distance. Ashera should be leading Hal up in a bid to cross Elora’s path.

  Expansive, lightless caverns stretched their gloom in every direction. In the distance, Elora could make out the rush of water and a strange burbling sound that she could not identify.

  It definitely was not water.

  “I lived here all my dang life,” Giel said in awe as they stepped onto a long and narrow leap of stone over a black chasm. Even though Elora and Mira had gone ahead to make sure it was safe, he edged his way with more care than was necessary. “And never could I have guessed that all this was below my feet.”

  Elora agreed with the sentiment. At first, she wanted to blame the Founder. But something about the places they were traveling through now didn’t fit what she knew of Rinbast.

  The deeper they went the older everything felt. Ancient and unknowable. She would not have been surprised to learn that these areas hadn’t tread upon in centuries.

  Did the people of Murkmire have any idea what secrets lurked beneath their very feet?

  As they passed along the narrow bridge of stone, Giel stopped abruptly. Already behind by several yards, the Warrior looked around deeply perturbed.

  “What is it?” Elora asked, trying to reign in her temper.

  “I can’t see where we came from,” he said.

  That was obvious. They were in a large chamber, perhaps the largest yet. Where Elora stood she could see neither their exit nor the tunnel they entered from.

  But there was something in Giel’s voice. A tremor that seemed out of place in such a deep baritone. “What is it?” Elora asked, pausing, and looking back.

  “How ‘bout we go back the way we came?” he offered, eyes darting all about.

  “Holy cow,” Mira said with a snorting laugh. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “No, that’d be ridiculous!” Giel countered.

  Elora watched him a bit longer. She was far from an expert on people, though. She preferred the wilds and the untamed lands to a person any day. Animals made far more sense to her than people. But she recognized the signs of fear easily enough. It was always the same, no matter the species.

  “Heights,” Elora said at length.

  Giel crossed his arms in front of his wide chest but didn’t bother to refute the claim.

  “How can you be scared of heights!” Mira asked, throwing her arms wide. “You live on a friggin’ mountain, Giel.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a big town. I don’t go out of the Gone Goose much and when I do it’s… to the same places. The buildings are tall y’know….”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to entertain this course,” Mira said to Elora.

  The Ranger held up a hand to her and looked back at Giel.

  She had some skill in Leadership and knew well enough that forcing people past things like t
his could backfire. She didn’t know Giel well enough to make the judgment call.

  Just as she was about to order they backtrack and find another way around, that creeping sensation that never seemed to relent struck.

  It came as a doughy tidal wave of oily black flesh that rose from the depths and crashed into the bridge just behind Giel.

  The flesh sagged and flopped over the surprisingly sturdy stone bridge. Their way back was severed as surely as if it had broken beneath the creature’s assault.

  A series of mouths ripped open like torn sutures all along its inky blackness. Elora recognized it immediately as a much larger, angrier version of the creature that had nearly killed them all.

  It was a Shoggoth. Not a Shoggoth Spore, but the creature from which the spore had budded.

  “Run!” Elora commanded, and shaken from their stupor, her friends heeded the call.

  Even Giel, frightened as he was, didn’t look back as they all made a mad dash forward. The stone beneath their feet rumbled and vibrated. Elora whipped her bow off her shoulder and fired a few stray arrows into the darkness.

  The resulting multitudinous cry froze the blood in her veins and shook the very roots of the mountain. It hinted at a creature larger than she could comprehend.

  Giel had stopped in his tracks and so had Mira. Elora recognized the magical force imbued in that cry. She could have left them. At one point, she would have. It was the wiser choice. But that person was her mother’s daughter.

  The conniver. The ruthless, rootless wanderer.

  In short, her mother.

  The same woman who had sold her and Hal out as soon as she had the option. She was still surprised that her mother had bothered to heal him before doing it. A snarl ripped out of Elora’s throat and she pushed off the old selfish impulse.

  Nocking an arrow, Elora cut a line across Giel’s forearm, drawing him out of the fear that rooted him. She twisted on the spot and let fly another arrow at the Dragoon. The fear released its grip on her as soon as the pain broke through and they were all running again.

  Ropey strands of inky darkness emerged from the depths and crawled after them. More tentacles dangled down from the impossibly high ceiling. Elora feared that they were in the belly of a full-grown Shoggoth.