Vraxious- Hopes Path
Vrax ignored Torvalds concerned voice, his eyes locked with the malevolent entity shifting almost imperceptibly within the cage. A savagely fanged maw opened wide with a yawn, revealing an inner mouth and a third even deeper beneath in the beast's throat, rows of triangular serrated teeth lining each. A pair of high-set, slitted eyes almost hid within the angular black and golden hide of the draconic-looking face. They watched him with an undeniable intelligence flashing between him and a point slightly beyond the red line around its cage.
A set of six clawed hands on the ends of long, sinewy limbs held it aloft, each hand ending in claws more like hooked daggers than any kind of finger. The torso was a matte black with hooked spires of bone jutting down the spine like quills, each tipped with a golden hue and a gently flowing poison. There were no legs to the beast; it simply tapered from the torso into a thick serpentine tail that split near the end into three wretched-looking weapons of randomly jutting bone shaped like the heads of a halberd crafted by a madman.
Three thin tongues spilled a stride from the horror's mouth, each moving of its own volition, tasting the air around it, languidly reaching towards the different people in the room. When Torvald spoke, it started letting out a low growl that sounded more like the wailing of a dying man than anything a beast should make. Vrax still stared, eyes locked with it as it let out the deep, sobbing growl. He noted that whatever creature was in the third cage was a huddled mass of fur hiding as far away from this beautiful abomination as it could get. Vrax used Identify on it; his mana flared, and his nose started bleeding slightly, but no information was forthcoming. The fuck kind of talent makes your nose bleed from an identity!?
Vrax turned to the guards. “What in all the nine hells is that!?" He pointed to the center cage even though everyone in the room already knew what he meant.
The mage shifted uncomfortably, looking to the other guards, who just made a go ahead, that's your job gesture.
He cleared his throat, subconsciously shuffling slightly farther from the cage. “It’s a Dreadfeast Drake hatchling. The merchant told us it’s from the far southeast, down where the dead things lurk and the churches have just given up. We can’t identify it either; we had to get a specialist from the guild to help. It’s Tier One and currently level four. The merchant said the adventurers that sold him the egg killed its parents, who were high first tier on the cusp of second beasts.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider if he needed to share more, but continued on. “The merchant said its parents wiped out a few villages and seemed to be empowered by fear itself, hunting and stalking the towns for weeks when they could have just wiped them out in a day if they chose to.”
“Wait, that wasteland that was left after the necromancer lord tried to push his borders into the Forsaken Lands thirty years ago? There are still villages left there?” Vrax asked, slightly confused, That would mean this thing was probably from one of the dark places the necromancer had tried to burn out of his path before he had woken something that broke his army and then him, suffusing the lands with foul and unpredictable energy.
The mage visibly cringed at the mention of the necromancer. “Yes, there were a few villages on the edges of the maelstrom. I saw one myself on an expedition long ago—a hardy, stubborn people scraping by rather than retreating north. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long between the roaming undead and worse things,” he said, meaningfully looking at the Dreadfeast.
Vrax looked at the Dreadfeast again; it boldly held his gaze. It's perfect. I don’t think I have ever seen anything that gives off such a visceral sense of sheer lethality. It's fucking terrifying. I bet when it grows up, it could take on a voruk or even a pack of threshers, and if I am bolstering it, perfecting it over its lifetime, my gods, what could it become? Could it feast upon dragons if we reach far enough together? Slow down, Vrax...You would need to be able to adapt it first for it to not immediately kill you. Vrax eyed it again. It was only the size of a very large dog right now, but he knew that would soon change. His eyes fell to where it kept glancing, and he got a very stupid idea.
Vrax suddenly stepped slightly past the red warning line, putting his hand out exactly where the Dreadfeast kept looking. The guard froze for a moment.
“The fuck are you doing? Get back, you idiot! If it gets a hold of you, we aren’t killing it to free you!” The mage said, a bit panicked, a swirl of mana rising around him as he began forming a spell.
The Dreadfeast shuddered terrifyingly fast, all three tongues arcing towards Vrax, and its head locked onto him, more curious than immediately hungry. A tongue reached out and just barely touched Vrax’s palm. Vrax slowly closed his hand around the tongue and poured every bit of mana he could into [Adapt Life], picturing the simplest of changes: the spots of gold becoming almost invisibly flecked with deep green. Vrax felt as though his soul was being shredded bit by bit for the briefest of moments before adapt took hold.
Mana 38/122
The Dreadfeast stopped channeling whatever skill it had been inflicting him with, and the soul-breaking fear eased away.
“Hey! No taming skills if you don’t own it!” One of the guards physically hauled him away from the cage, roughly shoving him towards the entrance. Vrax held up his hand placatingly, his eyes trained on the slight green speckles shining around its eyes now. It fucking worked.
“That was insanely stupid to try; the caravan tamer almost died trying that—he had a damn heart attack.” The mage said with an angry tone.
Before they could just throw him out, Vrax blurted out, “How much?”
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“What?!” The mage and Torvald both said simultaneously,
“How much for the Dreadfeast? No taming needed, as is.” Vrax said with surprising confidence,
“It’s scheduled for auction tomorrow. I can ask the owner if he would accept a private offer. They do sometimes if it’s high enough. Wait here a moment.” The mage said Vrax was almost certain the only reason he took him seriously was that his “attempt at taming it” hadn’t ended horribly. I don’t think that thing could ever be truly tamed, only aimed at your enemies….
Torvald stepped next to Vrax and leaned in. “I’m usually game for stupid shit, but that thing is going to eat us in our sleep, or hell, it might not need to wait till we are asleep,” he whispered with urgency.
“I was able to adapt it,” Vrax whispered back. Torvald shot him a surprised look. They waited for a few minutes before the mage came back with a surprisingly powerful-looking man wrapped in fur armor with a battleaxe across his back.
“Balthazar, merchant, monster hunter, and very short on time, you want to flat out buy that horror and have me skip what could be a very lucrative auction. First, why? Second, how much?” He said in a stern, no-nonsense manner, not annoyed, simply direct.
“I want to use it to fight with me.” Vrax said, equally direct.
“Hmm... how much will you pay?” Balthazar asked,
“I honestly have no idea how much it’s worth,” Vrax said with a bit of doubt in his voice. He really didn’t know, but admitting it wasn’t wise in a negotiation, but if he didn’t figure something out, the Dreadfeast would probably be sold to a coliseum somewhere as soon as tomorrow, and he didn’t know how many years it would be, if ever, before he saw one again.
Balthazar looked at him hard for a moment before letting out a small chuckle. “Earnest, I like that, and you aren’t lying to me. I expect it to get me around ninety to one hundred and twenty gold at auction.” Balthatzar said and waited.
“Would you accept collateral and an I owe you for one hundred and twenty gold?” Vrax said to the raised eyebrows of everyone in the room.
“Boy, you are level ten. What could you possibly have that would be worth over one hundred gold coins? I don’t want the deed to your damn farm.” Balthazar asked, obviously about to leave the room.
“This" Vrax said, and held out his Spriggan Sapling.
Bathazar’s eyes flashed as he used an appraisal skill, then again as he used some form of identifiy a surprised look shot onto his face. “Boy, do you know how much this is worth?”
“Enough,” Vrax said, unsure, bluffing boldly.
“Aye, it’s enough.” He held out a hand, and they shook on it. “Come pick the beast up tomorrow after the auctions.” He wrote up a small bill of sale along with the terms of collateral to be returned upon payment of one hundred and twenty gold coins. He gave Vrax a surprisingly long term to pay it before the sapling became forfeit. Balthazar left with a respectful nod and the Spriggan sapling.
They left the beast market together. Torvald immediately whirled on Vrax. “Are you actually insane? The daisy and the mushrooms, sure, but that thing? And more importantly, that was a lot of gold. Not an insane amount, but you could buy what? three flaming swords or other decent magic items for that?”
“I know full well that was rash of me, but I don’t think I would ever get a shot at one of those again anytime soon. Hell, I’ve never even heard of those before, and I spend an unhealthy amount of time researching the region, although admittedly not that part of it.” Vrax paused for a moment, thinking through his words. “The merchant offered me very generous terms. Paying him back is doable, especially if we keep adventuring. I say we go make some money fighting rich kids,” Vrax said.
Gods I hope that was the right decision. I don’t need the sapling, but I would sure as hell rather not lose it. If I can get it to sprout myself, that would be the perfect guardian for a base in the forest. And adapted, it would at least not immediately murder those who bear Vurune’s mark on that note…. Vrax plucked a simple flower barely sprouted and growing on the edges of the stone streets and began adapting it as they walked, so by the time they had meandered to Old Town, the sun was setting, and Vrax handed Torvald a simple woven band. It fit his forearm snugly and had a tree in all four states from death all the way to new life cleverly pressed upon it in a silvery gray that Vrax had willed into being.
Torvald put it on. “Kinda clashes with my overall aesthetic, but it's better than getting hugs from the damn Daisy.” He said and looked up at a grand structure looming above them.
The Dragon's Maw was on the very edges of old town, next to one of the city exits, making it easy for knight initiates coming from the nearby school to simply slip in for their training matches and then back out again to the school. It also made it the perfect first stop for pampered nobles who were road-weary and wanted a drink or four in their posh rooms before braving a town stuffed to the gills with adventurers.
There were two distinct entrances, one a gilded gate with ornamental guards and carriages coming and going. Leading to the deep, heavy satin entranceway where nobles were escorted into either the fights or fine suites that held every amenity one could hope for on the edges of the kingdom. The one Vrax and Torvald took was a well-worn cobblestone path that wound up to the side of the attached plain stone building gently humming with mana. Twisting runes were visible, dimly burning in the darkness, reinforcing every single brick individually. The two guards by the squat metal door here were very much so not ornamental; one was armed with two wicked-looking short swords, both held at the ready, and the other was a mage in light plate mail, scanning people before they were allowed inside.
Torvald gawked at the brickwork. “What would it take to breach these walls?” he mused aloud.
Vrax shrugged. “Hells if I know. The last time I saw anything like this was the damn strongbox in the church, and this is magnitudes larger and more complex. If I had to guess, Tier-3 at a minimum, or maybe a determined Tier-2 monster with a class focused on breaking shit, like someone we know.” He winked at Torvald, who chuckled knowingly.
They were quickly waved inside after a once-over and walked up a set of stairs immediately to their right. They had a great overlooking view of a battle taking place in the massive arena. The area was decorated like a long-abandoned city with stone ruins and a smattering of trees. Directly below them, a man in a knightly cape deflected an honest-to-Gods fireball with his longsword, sending it rocketing into a ruin to his left, detonating it in a shower of crumbling bricks. Before they could even comprehend how he did that, he closed the distance with the offending mage. One hand backhanded him so hard teeth flew across the dirt, then a savage low kick broke the man's leg. Finally, he flashed his sword down, cutting the spellcasting hand off. A bubble of protective force Sprung around the screaming mage, and robed individuals ran towards him, healing skills being prepared.
Torvalds eyes were wide. “Uhh, Vrax, that sure doesn’t look like a spoiled rich kid. He just destroyed that man.”
“I may have been basing that assumption on the humorous ravings of drunkards at the Hog's Trough back in Hope's End. I think we might be about to have our very own big fish in a tiny pond reality check, buddy. It looks like we are about to be dumped in the ocean.” Vrax said with sagely humor, pointing at the untouched knight initiate taking a bow after his resounding win.
Torvald raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck does that mean?”