Meen-Tra was definitely not lost – she was just walking away from the only real companions she’d ever had, at least not since she’d gotten her titan-mark. All because she didn’t want to be like her mother, and she definitely didn’t want to be an explorer; that’s what Garzha had wanted for her, not what Meen-Tra had wanted for herself.
She barely knew Mitzy or Pat, and Draven even less – not that much less, but the point still stood. DG4 was adorable, even after his transformation. A cub with a brand new set of claws, they didn’t deserve her ire. Yes, she would definitely allow herself to feel guilty about leaving DG4 behind. Maybe she could get a dirigible of her own for the shop.
The problem – she was lost and low on supplies, and to make matters worse, Garzha would probably find out. Meen-Tra stopped walking, putting fist to palm. Think Meen-Tra, what do you know?
She knew that she’d traipsed back in the general direction they’d come – towards the Stone Warrens, at least she thought she knew that. The light was failing, and she still hadn’t found the arid lands of rock and sand; there was a definite problem. She sighed, hanging around in the bog at night was a good way to get your sandals stuck, or devoured by an orc-eating plant.
Usually, the thing to do would be to climb a titan and bed down for the night. A branch near a colony of wyrmbacks would have given her a safe bit of respite. The problem – one of many – she wasn’t sure the direction of the nearest titan. The mists hung low here, and visibility was poor, even in the dayswamp light. It was a phenomenon known as the Whispering Ghyre, and it kept denizens of the Mire locked within their swampy boundaries.
What caused it? Meen-Tra didn’t know. The Shining Ones? Spirits in the Mists? Or even Deybroke in their last act. There were many theories, and not even her know-it-all mother could say for sure.
Meen-Tra sat on a damp log, water and moss squished around her butt, making a perfect mold, a seat fit for a queen – a frog queen, anyway. She had Garzha to thank for the seat and the temporary comfort it provided. Her qipao was crafted from the highly coveted cutasilk, produced by those with [Frogweaving]. The cloth itself was actually woven underwater, and not just any water; it had to be rich in mana, like the stuff of the shamanic pools. Frogkin specialized in its making, being best suited for the work.
Meen-Tra looked down at her sandals, “This is all your fault, I just wanted to level my own way – instead I got you.” She stomped her feet in exasperation. Something caught her attention. Movement off to her left. She squinted into the haze of the failing light. It was only a brush –
A small tree, tattered bits of sodden moss drooping – from arms and legs – it walked towards her, as a gaping maw elongated towards a verdure chest tangled with undergrowth.
Meen-Tra blinked before shaking her head. She wasn’t seeing things; she needed to get away – it was headed straight for her. Sliding off her seat, she lowered onto all fours, backing up slowly, desperate not to garner any attention. Meen-Tra's mind was so focused on the unknown threat, her danger sense tingling in confirmation, she didn’t notice until it was too late.
Meen-Tra felt herself brush up against the familiar sensations of waterlogged bog blossoms and fey ferns. She startled in alarm, letting loose a yelp, as the firm bulk of a humanoid pressed into her. Meen-Tra froze, terrified to look, danger sense blasting in alarm, titan-mark flaring – rattling, like a den of snakes from behind. Meen-Tra dove forward, falling to her back.
She looked up into – eyes like windows into the abyss. Meen-Tra’s feet kicked out from under her, slipping and sliding as she fought to gain her footing. She needed to be anywhere but here.
In front of her, a macabre humanoid boscage shook all over in a rattling hiss – its mouth stretching forever – lower jaw forming from the tangle of its face. It was as if the Shining Ones wished to smite her where she sat, bringing the very Mire to life!
Stay calm or die, screaming.
No, these had to be escaped dungeon monsters, just like that dragon-sized worm Garzha was chasing.
Meen-Tra regained her composure and took off through the swamp, her pace steady, not daring to break into a run, for fear she might fall into a quaking bog.
She needed to head away from these things; they could be her guide. If she just stayed ahead of them, she would be – an arm swung through the air, obscured by the light and its camouflage, reacting too late, she took a massive blow to the chest.
Meen-Tra went flying, sandals leaving a trail of mud in the air – hitting a rotten log with a wet crack, the air pushed from her lungs, and her head spun. Meen-Tra rolled onto her stomach, wincing at the pain in her side; her ribs must be broken – the pain was too intense. She pushed herself up, determination set in her jaw, stumbling backwards, she turned and ran in the direction she’d been flung, desperation her only plan.
All around the brush rattled, the Mire really had come alive. Meen-Tra pushed ahead, one arm gripping her injured side, holding up before her, in a vain attempt to shield herself from another blow.
A voice from beside her, almost in her ear, startled Meen-Tra, as she nearly tripped over her own two feet. “Hey there, not to alarm you – but, there are some unchill vibes shambling your way.
Meen-Tra did a double-take as she spun around, the ghostly outline of Ren, his form flickering in luminous blue grays. He waved at her, “Yoo, I’m Ren, sorry to scare – honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me, being as I’m ghost-mode, atm.”
Meen-Tra’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, “W-what, are you doing here, – R-Ren.”
Ren smiled, “Wow, you’ve heard of me? Did you see my show? I think the Spire dudes are pissed about it – no idea why, though. It was one of my better performances!
He stood arms akimbo.
“I’m looking forward to the next one, if I can ever stop running for my life.”
Meen-Tra shook her head, “I-I’m the one who gave you those sandals, and pulled you into the swamp.” After the blowup with her party, Meen-Tra wasn’t lying anymore. She had to face the truth.
Ren held out a fist, “What, chill, these sandals are something else! Low key, I thought they were going to eat me at first. Then I got a message about them being soulbound, and poof! I can’t take them off. Well, I’m not sure; I haven’t actually tried. But every time I get abducted, they're still sitting comfy. Did you use one of those skill thingies to make them?”
Meen-Tra looked around, trying to determine where the threat was coming from and what direction she should travel, “I-uhh yea, and ultra-rare –”
Ren pinched his chin, “No kidding? Is that one of those passive deals? I have a bunch of them. My guy Thalgor said that's strange to have so many – is it true, you’re supposed to turn them off – because I have this one that ups my mental defenses, and I don’t see the point of keeping it off, like you never know when someone might hit you with a Vulcan mind meld, am I right?”
Meen-Tra, in fact, did not know, “A Vulcan what?” She looked around, choosing a direction at random, anything to get her moving. As she took a step, Ren interrupted, “Oo, not that way – are you lost? I can guide you – well, at least move you away from the herd of Swamp Things moving your direction. They remind me of a colony of jellyfish; they’re sort of drifting towards you – their burning like a copper fire – can’t you see them?”
Meen-Tra raised an eyebrow, “The light is almost down, and the…
Meen-Tra gestured with an open fist to the foliage around her, eyebrows lifting in annoyance, despite her driving need to flee.
“The mire itself is – shambling – as you say, how can I tell foe from fey fern!”
Ren nodded, lips pursed, pointing a finger in Meen-Tra’s direction, “It must be this everlasting dream I’m having. Technically, I’m in shaman school or something? I don’t know. My teacher took a nap, which is strange since I – we, are in a dream realm or –”
Meen-Tra interrupted, “Can we go over specifics later, of how or why you're here? Just lead the way. I took a blow from one of those things, and I’m feeling lightheaded, my side is – not good.”
Ren jumped, spinning in the air several times before landing with his back to her, pointing straight ahead, as he spoke over his shoulder, “This way –
Ren froze, turning around to face her, “What did you say your name was again?”
Meen-Tra gritted her teeth, “Meen-Tra, [Sandalmancer] –”
Ren cut her off, rapidly gesturing for her to move in the direction he was pointing, “Nice to meet you, Meen-Tra. We’d better get our groove on. These things looked pissed, if their flaring auras are any indication.”
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Alyndra woke with a yawn, eyes heavy with sleep, she smacked her lips, reaching for her honey hive – just a dab to wash the taste out of her mouth –
Marraka’s melodic voice was sharp as it cut the air, “Well, did you speak with him?”
Alyndra withdrew her paw, “I–I did not. He wandered off – I even hit him with a skill, but he has surprising mental defenses – my efforts were swatted away like a fly.”
Mirabella asked, “Could you tell which dreamscape he was headed?”
Alyndra shook her head, “No, but my efforts are burdened. Fighting the shamblers has been tiring; I can barely hold back their efforts.
Alyndra’s gaze was fixed upon some distant thing unseen, “They're getting stronger – something happened, their strength bolstered.”
An echoing boom interrupted the [Dreamwalker]. The three assembled on the platform looked at each other in concern.
A guttural screech from overhead, as the outline of Kythans' form refracted the light. He swooped to the dias, his feathers uncharacteristically ruffled, as his sharp eyes scanned the platform, “Krogh does battle, but she’s only connecting with the ground, the Vatagand is clever – refusing to pop its head above ground for more than a moment –
Kythan snapped their wings shut, their beak slit, a look of concern on their face, “Where a Vatagand came from – all were destroyed in the Beast Wars, if any had lived – the concern is – the pools, if it locates them…”
Mirabella shook her head, “V-Vatagand, n-no, that can’t be, the pools, it will impact their balance for – how big is it?”
Kythan shook their head, “It’s catastrophe grade, we will need many titled ranks, this worm's girth measures up to a district titan, I – have the Keepers scent an envoy? The Assassins? Wayfarers?”
Alyndra shook her head, “No – they swarm about their spire, like a kicked fenstalker hive.”
Mirabella shook her head, in denial, “No, ohh, no – we have to stop it, it's at the pools.” She ran to the edge of the plateau. Their wards should have held the beast for longer. How had it gotten through them so quickly?
She knew the instant they’d winked out, wards that had stood for centuries, gone in a blink. Mirabella fell to her knees, gripping her ears in abject horror. She could see shamans like ants scurrying around the banks of the pool.
Tears streamed from her eyes, absorbed in the thick caramel fur – a vortex opened up in the center of the pools as their contents drained at an impossible rate. Such was the magic of the Vatagand, it would swell to magnitudes of order, its only constraint the magic it could consume.
Meen-Tra stood still, hands on knees, her endurance skill worn off, she’d not eaten in – she couldn’t remember, “Where are you taking me? We need to get back to Murkspire. I’m supposed to check on you.”
Ren shook his head, “Yeah, I don’t think that's a great idea. Not sure Murkspire is going to make it. Whatever was headed that way – it was, underground? Its aura was monstrous – something else joined it? I think it's controlling these plant monsters, if the spirit chords – I learned that from my ancestor, thank you. Anyway, the spirit chords connecting to all these –”
Ren gestured around the swamp, shaking his head, “We’ve put some distance between them, but they're on your trail. Not sure how. They can see me too.
He looked down, then up again at the fluctuating forms fanned out behind them. “O – I guess this dreamsight can work both ways? I didn’t get to that lesson, I sort of wandered off.” Ren grimaced, “Waking dreams aren’t as easy as they sound, ok, but – I wonder–”
Meen-Tra was looking in the direction Ren had been signaling, her face pinched, with an increasing look of concern; she had no idea what he was talking about.
Meen-Tra was an artisan and had little dealings with the mystical realm. She went to a shaman for blessed materials, or specific totems, not lessons in their teachings.
As Meen-Tra looked into the night, the twinkle of sage-moss overhead provided scant vision, and the silence boomed. She turned slowly for fear Ren had vanished. To her surprise, he’d gone still, his luminous face slack, his eyes stood in stark contrast, an endless sea of iridescent, toxic green gazed at nothing. She waved her hand in front of his face, “Hello, Ren–um, is everything alright?” She tried snapping her fingers. Nothing. Meen-Tra jumped up and down, waving frantically. It was like he’d just frozen in time, a ghostly statue, hovering in place in the Mire, as she waited to be surrounded on all sides by her death.
“Remain calm, Meen-Tra, you don’t need him, you can do this without –”
Ren stepped through his image, his sandals hovering above the bog, his shimmering outline fading as he appeared whole and material before her, no longer a dream apparition, “Yoo, I made it, whew, that took forever, I was worried you’d be gone by now.”
Meen-Tra’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, which seemed to be happening to her a lot lately. “W-what! How did you get here? You’re in Murkspire.” She said as a matter of fact.
Ren gave a lopsided grin, “I ran, it’s become something of a hobby for me since I came to this world. I’ve gotten some pretty epic powers – or skills or whatever.” Ren stood arms akimbo.
Meen-Tra pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Impossible, we have to be days away from Murkspire – probably, the point is there is no way you got here that fast.”
Ren nodded, “Ahh, yes, speed, a measurement of time. Time is relative, Meen-Tra, everyone knows this.”
Meen-Tra raised an eyebrow, “What does my family have to do with anything, Ren! And how do you know Garzha anyway? Has Mother put you up to this?” Meen-Tra looked over her shoulder. “Haha, Mother, you can come out now – this isn’t very funny anymore.”
Ren sighed, “No, relative. Like if you're a bug on a branch, then your whole world is the distance you can travel from one end to the other, not realizing you're sitting on a tree attached to the Earth, spinning in space, rotating around the sun, inside an infinitely expanding galaxy.”
Meen-Tra wasn’t paying attention; she was looking around for Garzha to jump out of the bushes. Instead, a hulking form shaped of the very stuff shambled towards her, absorbing bits of moss and leaf, as its mouth stretched and arms reached – Ren flew by her, his fist impacting its jaw, “Adi-ooken!” bits of bone and leaf scattered across the ground, as Ren stumbled in the follow-through of his punch.
The monster shook, every inch of its form rattling, as it turned to face Ren, its jaw slowly reforming, drawing on its greater body, even as it absorbed from the surroundings. Ren looked up from his back, “Not chill – Meen-Tra, these things are giving me sketch vibes.”
Meen-Tra raised an eyebrow as she looked, mouth hanging wide, at Ren’s fallen form, “What in bogs' name are you talking about!” She was both terrified and incredulous at this, idiot and his stupid nonsensical sandals!
Ren flipped sandals overhead, as he rolled back and pressed the ground, springing into a crouch, “Don’t just stand there looking at me. Don’t you have any suggestions? This is your world after all.”
Meen-Tra spluttered, How dare he talk to her like that? She wasn’t – Amorphous-type monsters can only be killed by attacking their core, Daughter of mine. A memory from one of Garzha’s many monologues cut through the chaos, which only made her angrier, “The core, you stupid idiot!”
Ren narrowed his eyes, “Stupid idiot? What is this kindergarten? I know you are, but what am I?” Ren stuck out his tongue.
Meen-Tra spluttered. The shambler growled. Ren backed up. The monster redoubled its pace. The surrounding foliage shook as the cry was taken up by the mass of monsters pushing in on their position.
Professor Ren bent his head to stare stupidly at his own chest, before raising his head, “E tu, Brutus?
So, saying Ren charged forward, before veering around the monster, more spluttering from Meen-Tra as Ren levitated past her in a blur, head back, maniacal laughter peeling from his lips, “Haha, this is going to be so awesome! [Electric Pace].
Meen-Tra's eyes narrowed as Ren activated a skill, strange, rounded, and arcing symbols streaming from his ankles. His form, blurring as he ran up and over brush and reed alike. She spun in place, tracking him as he arced back in her direction. Her mouth hung open as he propelled himself off the flexible brush like it was solid bark.
Ren sped towards her before speaking through the most evil smile she’d ever seen, “[Wrecking Ball].
Her head snapped forward as Ren blurred past her for a second time, before launching himself through the air, arms straight, fists leading the way…
Ren exploded through the shambler. The monster’s head dropped down, empty eye sockets pointing at the gaping hole in its chest.
“[Super Anime].
Ren arced into the bog in a splash before sliding to a stop. He looked down at the burnished amber sphere in his grip, a lopsided grin splitting his face, “Epic.”
Meen-Tra rolled her eyes, “He’s worse than Garzha.” She wrinkled her nose at that thought, praying to all the dead gods that those two never met.
Ren looked up, proud as a puppy with its first bone, “So should we wreck our way back to Murkspire?” He wore a gallows grin, eager for more rampaging.
Talon looked down on his captor, a wicked grin stretched to his eyes, “So tell me, Churi, what do you know about Ren?”
Her wings were bound, and her arms trussed behind her back. She was strapped to a chair in her own parlor, Pryuuk and the children cowering in the back rooms of the school.
Churi, quivering with terror, did her best to remain calm, lifting her beak as she spoke, “I – we met at my stall. He bought some tea and sang to me. What is this about? W-why do you ask?”
Talon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, lips pursed, “I see. Have you heard of the Boggler’s Grin? It's very messy – I really would hate for the children to clean it up.
Talon slid a finger across his open mouth, watching with feigned surprise at the blood that would have been pooling on the floor, “No, we don’t want that, Churi, and with your anatomy? Well, let's just say, I haven’t tried that particular technique on a beak before – and I am so – eager to try. So please let's not give me any excuses, ok?”
Churi’s beak drooped, as she sagged, the life going out of her, “Just kill me – please, I don’t know anything about Ren.
She let out a gasping sob, as she choked out, “I’m nothing but a beast to you – I know, p-please, just not the children.”
Or Pryuuk
She couldn’t even say his name, for the pain of losing him. Maybe if she forgot about him, Talon would forget, too. She sobbed – robbed of the smallest comfort before her death, all she wanted was to remember Pryuuk’s easy smile one last time – Don’t think of him, Talon will use him, be strong, Churi.
The ground shook, the walls trembled – gravity shifted around Churi, as she fell from the chair.
Talon’s jaw set as he gripped the wall behind him, his eyes narrowed, “Why hasn’t the guild gotten that thing under control –”
The world shifted as a crack like thunder split the air, and the bottom fell out from under Talon as he was flung against the far wall. The world went sideways as a district tree crashed to the ground, for the first time in its storied history.
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