Vraxious- Forsaken Lands
He looked over the spear he had extracted from the corpse of the resplendent golden warrior. It was so simple and yet not at the same time. A mostly straight wooden branch there wasn’t even a metal spear tip; it simply grew to a spiraling point. And the way it almost seemed to breathe with the faint lines of crackling green energy fading to nothingness and then resurging brighter in rhythm. His new stigmata-granted armor had the same rise and fall of luminescence, hinting that they were connected somehow. Vrax knew his version of identify wouldn’t do a darn thing unless the target was living, but he fired one off out of curiosity anyway. [Spriggan sapling Tier-1] (lvl 4).
Vrax damn near choked on his own spit. An order of religious, militant druids, using tree saplings as a weapon, made sense. They probably had a vast array of things they could use a weapon like this for. He really wished he could stick around and examine this place more, but between the noise the Bogarts were making,. And the very, very weird spriggan roaming around. He would have to put a pin in that until he was much stronger.
He leapt onto the vines that hung down from the rim of the room. His talent is already proving its worth. The vines almost imperceptibly pulled closer, slightly winding around themselves to give him a much firmer surface to climb. Instead of a desperate scramble, he smoothly climbed hand over hand up the rope like a bushel of vines. Pulling himself through the streaming water and over the edge. Vrax lopped forward in a silent jog, taking in his surroundings. The trees and underbrush here were a mix of those crystalline willows and regular pine trees and bushes. His feet barely sunk into the needles below him, always seeming to find a spot just firm enough for good traction but with enough give to make his footfalls eerily silent. He ducked under a fallen log, then swung upward using a branch that seemed to almost reach down to him to effortlessly vault over a bramble bush with a concerning sway to its thorns.
Vrax landed with the softest thud, his breathing even and unrestrained. He could hear the barbaric hissing of bogarts talking ahead. His eyes swept around the underbrush near him, searching for anything that he could use his new powers with. He let an unkind smile creep onto his face as he saw a patch of lurker mushrooms at the base of a moldy log. They had their barbed tendrils clasped around the half-dissected corpse of a raccoon. Vrax gathered a half dozen broken branches and tossed them one by one near the mushrooms. The first two were snagged midair by the mushrooms; the others fell unbothered to the ground past the mushrooms. And just like that, the plant is rendered harmless for a little while. I really don’t get how those mushrooms have such a dangerous reputation. Vrax carefully walked up and knelt beside the patch. Each tendril slowly writhed. Either sawing through the bone of the raccoon or shredding through the bark of the sticks. Carefully, he just laid his hand against the base of the nearest mushroom and hoped for the best.
Vrax reached for [Adapt Life]. He focused on the tendril that sprung from the base of the mushroom. He pictured the rough thorns on it growing. Becoming far sharper, longer and with a slight backwards curve like the fangs of a predator. He felt his mana begin to trickle down as the thorns elongated before his eyes, taking on a much more savage appearance. Vrax stopped to check his mana after the thorns perfectly mirrored the ones in his mind’s eye.
[Mana 23/102]
Hmm, I had regenerated some after my jog, but that was very mana intensive for such a small change. What if I just make something more of what it already is?
Vrax stepped to the next closest mushroom, willing the tendril to have more thorns, one every half inch in a spiraling pattern instead of one every hand span. The flora bent to his will, thorns erupting out from the mottled flesh. He gasped as his mana dipped precipitously low.
[Mana 3/102]
He carefully took the stick from one of the adapted mushrooms and stepped back to let the tendril reset. It wouldn’t take long for it to be ready to strike again now that it wasn’t holding anything. He watched warily as it uncoiled its tendril, heavy with every inch now covered in thorns. Here goes nothing. Vrax walked forward, ready to spring to the side when it stuck; instead, it only twitched in his direction. His smile grew as he circled around it, not triggering its attack. He waved an arm quickly over it. It struck explosively. Vrax barely managed to wrench his arm out of its path. Alright, so the wording less hostile is specific for a damn good reason. I can work with this, though. As long as I don’t actively fight within its reach or move too fast, it looks like it won’t trigger.
Vrax carefully dug up the two lurker mushrooms he had adapted and went to tuck them into his satchel when a system notification chimed as the mushrooms neared his armor.
[Add 2 adapted life to Stigmata Garden?]
Well, what the fuck does that mean? “Yes?” Vrax whispered out. The two mushrooms he had in a neat bundle seemed to seep into his armored gloves, disappearing somewhere within the ashy bark.
[Stigma Garden 2/4]
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Lurker Mushroom Adapted
Lurker Mushroom Adapted
Vrax felt it finally click. That's how the armor works. It drains the nearby plants and uses that to sow the seeds of whatever flora he had stored! That was fantastic; that meant he could set his traps on the fly and not have to try and fight with a spear in one hand and a mushroom in the other. Which was pretty darn close to what he had been planning to do.
With a confident new bounce to his step, Vrax began creeping towards the Bogarts. It depends on how many there are. If it’s just one or two, I’ll use my spear; that wouldn’t be much of a risk, especially with my new armor. If it's a whole hunting party of them, I'll do my best to quickly pick a few off from the edges and then set up my new “garden” to lure them into. Worst case, I still have a few jars of smelter moss that should certainly do the job on a Bogart. With a rough game plan, Vrax approached a thin river ahead; a massive tree had fallen across it long ago. Trees sprouted from the fallen log at odd angles, some dipping perilously close to the river. Slev could see two Bogarts ambling their way across the dense foliage of the makeshift bridge. Another three rooted through the shore on the other side looking for any morsels to be unearthed from the rich muck.
Vrax struck while they were still separated, dashing onto the fallen log, his feet finding perfect purchase among the moss. He hit the first Bogar at a dead sprint, twisting his spear up as he impacted. He felt it slip between the ribs and punch out the other side. Vrax went to pull his spear out, but it was lodged squarely between the gurgling creature's ribs at an odd angle. With a curse, Vrax released his spear and grabbed the Spriggan spear. He had hoped to test it not in a life-or-death situation. With a step to the left and then a leap towards and up a nearby tree, Vrax caught onto a branch above the other bridge-bound Bogart. It had whirled around a nasty-looking cleaver in one hand and a shield in the other. Vrax pounced down, both hands pointing the spear downward for a devastating strike. The Boggart caught the blow on his raised shield, staggering back. A moment later the bogart charged forward, mana flaring as a small invisible shock wave sent Vraxes' energy back at him. Vrax tried to roll under it but was caught slamming through a nearby sapling and only stayed on the mossy bridge because his fingertips somehow caught a single well-moored bramble. With a curse, Vrax sprung back to his feet, a series of wild stabs driving the Boggart back against the edge. With an exaggerated high feint, the Bogart raised his shield too high and caught the wooden spear tip straight in the throat. Vrax held on as the beast struggled, swinging its cleaver wildly for a few seconds. If pushed forward, coming within reach of Vrax as it impaled itself farther in an attempt to get at him. The bogart managed a single heavy chop that sunk into Vrax's armor with a crunch before Vrax kicked it off the bridge.
He glanced down into the river at it. It was rapidly bleeding out. He had lost the element of surprise. The three Bogarts on the other side of the bridge hadn’t been blind to that desperate struggle. Two piled onto the bridge, both carrying heavy-looking, mismatched axes. The final, a noticeably large Bogart that comfortably came up to Vraxes's chest in height, wasn’t carrying any visible weapons. That set off all kinds of danger alarms in Vrax's mind. It could be an unarmed barbarian, or worse, it could be a mage. Vrax cringed at that, though, and made sure to put the largest of the elms jutting from the log between him and the Big Boggart as they prowled forward.
[Mana 68 / 102]
He had some mana back again, but only a bit over half. Hopefully it was enough. He knelt down, placing his hand on the moss- and tree-covered log, and focused on the concept of rot and rebirth. The lichen and moss around him writhed, followed by the tree he was hiding behind, as their very essence was ripped from them, leaving him surrounded in a small circle of grey and rotten brown as all plant life within two strides of him died. In its place, his two Lurker mushrooms now sprouted from the log. The first, with the heavy bundle of thorns, immediately snapped out, wrapping around the head and arms of the first Boggart. Dragging its screaming body across the log. He watched in horrified fascination as the Boggart nearly flayed itself in its struggles to get free. The second Boggart hesitated for just a moment before charging him. It scrambled on the slick surface of the wood, getting almost within reach of his spear before the second lurker mushroom’s predatory thorns dug deep into its arm and shoulder, dragging it kicking and screaming away from him. Vrax met the gaze of the last Bogart, and it gave him a rotten, toothy grin as mana started dancing between its hands.
Vrax leapt off the log rolling in the shallows of the river just as a whip of pure force snapped where he had been standing. The Bogart huffed at its miss and gestured towards him, bolts of arcane energy fanning out from its fingers towards him. Vrax sloshed through the water towards it, doing his best to sidestep them. He ducked the first and second. He mostly paired the third with his spear; the bolt danced across his shoulder armor in an explosion of ash. The fourth and fifth struck home, one punching into his side, nearly knocking him over, and cracking a rib. The final hit blasted his gauntlet free and tore out the back of his hand. Vrax managed to stay on his feet and fumbled with his bleeding hand for a jar of smelter moss. With a blood-slicked heave, he threw it, jar and all, straight at the Bogart.
The jar melted before the glass could even hit the ground. A flash of fire beyond what he would call bright illuminated the entire riverbank. Vrax blinked away the blind spot seared into his vision as he made the last few strides to the Bogart. The monster held both hands in front of himself, obvious strain on his face, as the smelter moss burned itself out against a shield of energy. Vrax didn’t wait for the fire to subside, pushing all his remaining mana into a smite. He leapt, slamming down into the shield. His miasma of decomposition breaking through the last of the barrier and catching the Bogart mage square in the face. With a sickening squelch, the Bogart fell off the end of the log into the riverbank below.
[Bogart Tier-1] (Lvl 3) slain
[Bogart Tier-1] (Lvl 2) slain
[Bogart Tier-1] (Lvl 4) slain
[Bogart Tier-1] (Lvl 3) slain
[Bogart Kinetisist Tier-1](lvl8) slain
Vrax braced as far more essence than he had ever felt before permeated his being. He needed to make it back to town so he could use it. He wasn’t going to risk entering his system sanctuary again out here.