[Beastborne: Tower of Blight] Chapter 49

With a group still climbing the Tower, Elora was free to roam the outer limits of Brightsong with Komachi, scouting for any encroaching threats and creatures that had been able to wander too close.

It had felt like ages since the Wildsmaster had been able to explore even the relative safety of Brightsong’s territory. Minus the Tower of Blight, of course.

The deep, thick snow was certainly a hurdle, but one she could easily overcome by overcharging her [Silver-etched Quiver] with Wind arrows. The overabundance of mana spilling forth triggered an additional effect that left her footfalls remarkably light, even with Komachi on her shoulder.

She was able to walk atop the snow without leaving more than a faint impression. An impression that would be gone the moment a brief wind blew across the area.

Though, I’m not sure how much of that is me, and how much of that is Komachi, Elora reluctantly admitted to herself. The pobul was waving a paw every once in a while.

Elora didn’t need the snowshoes the other Rangers were employing to dash across the top of the snow.

As a result, she found it easier to track the powerful creatures of winter. Something large had come this way and was carving a path towards one of the distant lakes. It wasn’t coming near Brightsong and its people, but whatever it was, Elora wanted to see.

There was another reason to scout the surrounding lands in the full embrace of winter’s frost. As much food as Hamrin, their Gourmage, was able to provide, even he had his limits. While he made mention of meat plants and even something named baconleaf that Elora wasn’t inclined to believe was real, they were largely reliant on hunting for any real quantity of meat.

Something that Elora found relaxing. It cleared her mind and made her feel more connected to the cycle of the world, just like she used to be.

Her father used to take her out to hunt. They would spend all day tracking herds to find the weakest to cull. Never the young, and never the females.

There was always a young male who was too showy for his own good, and those were the ones her father prized. Not only was their meat more tender, but they were doing the herds a favor by taking out a creature too loud and boisterous for its own good.

Elora was sure that her father was trying to teach her a lesson with that. But as a young girl, she hadn’t caught on to the fact that every moment with the wise Ranger was one filled with important lessons.

Those were the most precious days of her life, when her father was still alive, and her mother was simply cantankerous instead of a traitor who hated her own daughter.

Elora shook her head to rid her thoughts of her monstrous mother.

Memories of hunting in the snow with her father came rushing back to fill the void. Elora smiled. Life had been so simple then. No rebellion, no other Founders, no pain or loss.

As much as she was beginning to think of Brightsong as her true home, she still missed Fallwreath. She had grown up there. Her father had taken her on trips to the Emerald Strand to hunt and teach her the ways of a Ranger.

And there were four seasons, Elora thought to herself. Fallwreath had been appropriately named by the Founder, whatever his other failings.

Autumn was a magical time. The trees ringing the capital city turned a riot of golds, reds, yellows, and purples. It was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen.

She missed it fiercely.

She and her father used to sneak up to the roof of one of the Sanctum’s towers to see the whole world roll out its colorful display just for them.

Things had grown increasingly more complicated since she met Hal. The change and strife had been tremendous, yet meaningful.

Once, she had little hope of leading a successful rebellion against Rinbast. Now, her band of exiles was staking a claim in the infamous Shiverglades. They had made its untamed wilds into their own territory.

Of course, she wasn’t leading much of anything anymore.

That was for the Founder to do. As much as she didn’t like it, she didn’t envy his burdens, nor his Class that wielded beast magic.

Elora doubted she would ever be fully comfortable with magic that could use powers from eldritch beings. It deeply troubled her that there was a Worldshard out there that seemed littered with Outsiders. That horrible one with that crumbling, gargantuan bridge and the sea that writhed with those things.

Elora struggled to shake herself out of that memory of Rottarn. She eventually managed. She tried not to dwell on that disturbing place. She chose to move on and heal.

It was a challenge at times.

A strange sort of squealing caught Elora’s attention.

“Hey, whut’s that?” Komachi asked, pointing through a flurry of snowflakes. She snuggled close to Elora, keeping the both of them warm.

A [Direboar] emerged from the side of a boulder, its thick short, muscular limbs dug a wide furrow through the blanket of white. It charged into another, even bigger [Direboar], and the two clashed their jagged tusks together in a bestial struggle for supremacy.

Lightning crackled from their magical tusks, creating peals of thunder that shook the snow free from the trees.

Enough sound to hide Elora’s approach easily.

“Tasty ham,” Komachi whispered.

Elora agreed with her. She got close, lined up the shot, and let fly with a Rain of Death.

In the silence that followed the boars’ attacks, a whistling sound echoed in the clearing they were in. The creatures were quite powerful, but dumb as only two young men with machismo instead of brains could be.

By the time the boars realized the falling death above them, it was already too late. Elora watched as the arrows fell by the dozen. Large spear-like things from her new greatbow that would have punched a hole through a foot of stone.

The direboars, though strong, were not stronger than her newfound Levels. They fell and yielded up their pelts, their meat, and one magical tusk that Elora gleefully packed away into her satchel.

Komachi rummaged around in the snow, finding another thirty-pound slab of meat that they could take to the inn to have cooked. Kow would be over the moon for some more meat.

“Good job, Elora!” Komachi told her with sincere praise. “Rain of Death is a good skill.”

“It really is,” Elora said proudly.

Everybody wanted fresh meat, but it took somebody to go out and hunt.

Elora was considered too important to ask to do the task herself, but she enjoyed the simple and menial chores of a Ranger. Besides, what was she going to do while the Tower was being delved into by another group?

It would be her turn next. Until then, she could wait and fulfill the various orders and needs of her new winter home.

Everybody had to do their part.

Komachi climbed onto her back, slipping into the small sling that Elora had Robas of the Ebon Star tribe make for Komachi. It allowed the pobul to balance her forepaws on Elora’s shoulder, while being safely nestled in the leather pouch around her shoulder blade.

If danger came, the pobul could duck out of the way without worrying about falling. The sling would keep her safe.

More often than not, Komachi fell asleep in there, drooling all over Elora’s shoulder, but she didn’t mind.

After the terror of trying to handle both Komachi and Hermes, she had grown by leaps and bounds. She learned to trust Komachi more, and to be more tolerant.

Hermes showed Elora just how easy Komachi was to care for. Unlike the oppa, who demanded everything from scrap metal to pets, to cuddles, and various types of food prepared just so, Komachi was a breeze.

A stressful little tropical breeze that could turn into a hurricane at any moment, but that was beside the point.

“You’ll learn Soul Aeder Equip one of these days,” Komachi said, patting her shoulder consolingly. “So what if Hal figured it out in under an hour?”

Elora ground her teeth together. “Thank you, Komachi. That’s very nice of you to remind me. In fact, it would be so nice if you wouldn’t do it every ten minutes!”

Komachi snickered behind a paw, then reached forward and squeezed her shoulder in a hug. “Komachi only giving you a hard time because you can take it. Also, is very funny.”

That didn’t make Elora feel much better, but she unclenched her jaw all the same. “How about you keep an eye out for more meat? I’d like some ham as well, instead of just giving it all away. If we can find some prime cuts, maybe Kow can make it into something that’ll provide attributes.”

Elora had heard of food that gave permanent attribute increases, though she hadn’t seen it firsthand yet. She had hoped that the Shiverglades of all places, a world of wild monsters, would have something like that.

With only a measly 5 points per Level, it became harder and harder to improve simply by Leveling Up. Training, getting unique magical equipment, and permanent attribute boosts became more meaningful when it took days to get a single Level.

Even with the Tower providing a deluge of Experience, even Elora’s rather low Level 28 Wildsmaster was starting to slow down.

“Aight,” Komachi said, picking her nose. After she was done rooting around in there, the pobul sniffed at the crisp air. “Hmm, that way.” The pobul pointed in a promising direction with the same paw.

Elora pointedly did not make a comment on that and instead took off at a gliding run in that direction.

Komachi was a support familiar, one that boosted various abilities both in and out of combat, though she was more inclined to provide boosts outside of combat.

Her pobul was no stranger to dangerous circumstances, but she preferred to use her powers to help her find prey, and to improve both the rarity and quantity of its drops when that prey was slain.

Ever since Komachi acquired her Brewmaster Class, her fear of monsters had dwindled. Keening was of minimal risk, unless something else was significantly wrong.

The more Levels she obtained in Brewmaster, the more she used new and terrifying brews as small explosives with debilitating effects. Monsters were covered in bubbling froth that froze as soon as the froth hit the frigid air.

It was Komachi’s version of a snare arrow, which rooted a creature to the spot by wrapping hundreds of thin metallic threads around it. Only, Komachi’s also tended to blind the creature, and in some cases get it drunk at the same time if it was able to thaw the brew.

“Y’know, you can have more than one familiar,” Komachi brought up as they made their way across the snow. Another peal of thunder promised more [Direboars] nearby to hunt. “And I don’t mean soul aeder.”

“I’ve been looking,” Elora told her, though she knew her heart wasn’t in it. Finding another familiar that remotely stacked up to Komachi would be impossible.

Anything she could get would be effectively worthless.

The little stinker seemed to read Elora’s mind. “Don’t worry, they won’t be as complex as me.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” Elora admitted. “I think I’ve been spoiled by you.”

“Eh?”

“You might not attack monsters except by throwing brews at them, but you’re always there with me. You help me in too many ways to count. Why would I want another familiar?”

“Not everything can be awesome and OP like Machi. But if you get another, you get stronker. They come with abilities, too.”

Elora knew she spoke the truth. Her Wildsmaster Class now had room for five total familiars. She was supposed to get a new one every fifth Level or so, as that’s roughly when she gained a new slot for one.

Komachi had been enough for a while, but the pobul was right. She needed to start looking for different familiars. They would never stack up to Komachi’s prowess, but maybe they didn’t have to.

Elora crept around a large black tree and found five dire boars all charging and snorting at one another. She grinned, an idea forming in her head as she looked at the powerful and swift dire boars in a different light.

“Is it florked up if you tame one of them, while hunting the rest?”

“No, no, it’s not,” Elora purred.

Komachi’s creeped out silence revealed her disagreement with that as Elora pulled back on her greatbow and launched another volley into the sky with Rain of Death.

“It’d probably be even more florked up if you tame one of ‘em with [Char-roasted Direboar Ribs].”

Her MP dropped as the single spear-length arrow rose high into the sky to its apex, turned and began to fall back toward the earth. Focusing, Elora doubled the spears again and again until tiny black dots appeared all around the dire boars.

“Those that live mean they’re smarter,” Elora reasoned. “If they can’t survive, maybe they don’t deserve to stick around.”

Elora watched with great interest as the Rain of Death fell around her prey.