Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 45 - Close Encounters of the Barely Intelligible IV

Claire awoke to a gust of wind. The cave’s temperature was a good bit lower than it had been when she had gone to sleep, and the front entrance was already home to a fresh pile of snow. Still, the halfbreed was feeling quite content. The thick blankets that enveloped her body were so warm and toasty that she nearly fell back asleep as soon as she awakened. It took another chilling breeze to shake the cold-averse snake girl free of her grogginess.

Moaning reluctantly, she moped her way out of bed and over to the flame. The tree-shaped pile of charcoal was on the verge of petering out. Its embers were dim and its crackling faint, even to her hypersensitive ears. With a yawn, she looked around the room and located a stack of replacements, a series of thick dried logs, stripped bare of their bark and branches stashed in an alcove cut into the ice.

She found, as she stared into the freshly rekindled pyre, that she was surprisingly well rested. Her body felt responsive and her head was clear, clear enough to realise that the moon was exactly where it had been when she first fell asleep, barely visible from her spot by the hearth.

What time is it?

The glowing satellite looming overhead seemed to suggest that no time had passed since she first wandered her way over to her makeshift bed, but she knew that there was no way that was true, so she pulled up her quest log and moved her eyes to its sole timed entry.

Destroy Borrok Peak
Primary Objectives:
- The borrok lifegiver is slain
- The borrok sentinel is slain

Bonus Objectives:
- Marleena Morgan survives
- Carter Grassrunner survives
- Borrok Peak is vandalized beyond recognition
- Beckard Links does not attempt to speak to you

Deadline: 126 Hours

Claire tried rubbing her eyes to ensure that she wasn’t hallucinating, but the number remained unchanged. There were only about five days left; nearly a full twenty four hours had passed since she had left the burrow.

“Is it because I spent too much time killing stuff? Or did I just oversleep?”

Claire mumbled under her breath as she debated the possibilities, the second of which started to seem more and more likely with every passing thought. She started laughing to herself in denial as she shook her head. Either way, she was going to have to hurry up if she wanted to meet the deadline, so she moved outside and grabbed the leg she had left in the cold. Only to find that the object had changed.

As a self-proclaimed expert on severed body parts, Claire quickly concluded that the limb was still technically a leg. But at the same time, it had also become something along the lines of a meatsicle. It was frozen solid, encased in a thin layer of ice. Putting it to use wasn’t impossible per se, as it would eventually revert to its less-than-frostbitten form if she left it by the fire, but she didn’t have the time to sit around and wait for it to thaw and dry.

For a moment, the halfbreed nearly panicked, calming only as she recalled that there were other furs at her disposal. The pile she had slept in contained a whole seven of them, all of which were both larger and of the same high quality. They even felt the same to the touch.

Between the eye in the spilled soup and the various scattered skeletons lying about, Claire had long suspected that the monster was a cannibal. In fact, she was fairly certain that its tendencies went a step further than just eating its own kind. None of the remnants left in its cave had come from any other species.

Was the one I killed just a freak? Or do watchers only eat other watchers?

Claire considered the question as she scoured the cave for any usable tools, but found none. The watcher’s proficiency in magic provided it the ability to craft whatever it needed on the fly. Clay pot aside, it had no need for instruments made of anything but ice.

Of course I need my stuff the one time I don’t bring it with me. Ughhhhh…

The only objects she could find were smelly rocks as long and thick as her fingers. There was no string or yarn anywhere, with the occasional bit of shed hair being the only thing that even remotely resembled either. Weaving distinct cuts of cloth together was completely off the menu. If she wanted her coat to stay on, then she was going to have to keep it secured with some sort of knot.

That, in and of itself, was a problem easily solved. She could easily leave extraneous bits when she cut out a cloak so that she could keep it fastened in place; the individual pelts were several times her size. Still, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was being wasteful. Each ribbon she crafted rendered a large chunk of the remaining material unusable, and messing up was more or less the norm. The only tool she had that was capable of cutting through the fur was the watcher’s horn. And as the blade was still stuck inside the furry hunter’s severed leg, manipulating it remained a whole chore and a half. Adding to the inefficiency was the lack of a ruler or measuring tape. The first cloak to amount to anything beyond an abject failure had to be discarded. It was too small to fit her, even though she could have sworn that she had made it twice as wide as her shoulders

Cloak number two suffered from a similar lack of function. It was just the right size to fit snugly on her shoulders, but the sole ribbon she had built into its collar wasn’t strong enough to hold the heavy garment in place. It took a third rare success for the halfbreed to produce something usable. The newest model was just the right size and its fancy six-ribbon design was robust enough to keep it from slipping off.

Her sole complaint was that it didn’t quite accommodate her ears, but that was something she had long given up on fixing. She didn’t want to cut any holes in the sides, like she had for all of her other cloaks. Her fluffiest appendages would freeze off if exposed to the cold winter air, and that was just about the last thing she wanted. Likewise, she also had no intention of figuring out how she was supposed to make a hood that would provide the delicate organs with the breathing room they needed. Thinking about the process led her to decide that she would much rather endure a minor bit of discomfort than work out a solution.

Next, the rogue made a mitten, or at least a cut of fur that was somewhat capable of functioning as a mitten. The rectangular blob of hair and skin was wrapped around everything from the bottom of her wrist to the tips of her fingers and bound on both the right and left sides. The lack of any distinct digits robbed her right hand of its dexterity and made it many times more difficult for her to manipulate any of her weapons. Equipping the glove wouldn’t have been a worthy tradeoff under any normal circumstances, but the halfbreed needed something to ward off the cold to safely wield the frozen limb that had become her sharpest weapon.

Once the hand protector was complete, Claire moved on to the simplest of the day’s tasks and quickly made a scarf by cutting a long strip outside of an otherwise ruined pelt. And with that, she was done. She had managed to successfully construct three pieces of gear out of seven perfect hides. It wasn’t the best hit rate, but as the furthest thing from a tailor imaginable, the halfbreed was proud of herself for coming out with anything viable at all.

Now all that’s left is to use my ability points.

There were a whole 58 available courtesy of her new mage class, whose levels had been coming in at a moderate pace, all things considered. It wasn’t shooting up nearly as quickly as Llystletein Rogue, but each individual level was worth twice as much.

The first stat she invested in was vitality. She dumped half of her available points into it without the slightest bit of thought or hesitation and boosted it all the way to 106. Vitality was the cornerstone of her survival, and her most recent encounter had only served to emphasize that she was going to need more of it. 

Premeditated decision out of the way, she looked over her remaining ability scores with a frown. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to focus on. The fight with the watcher had proven that she was lacking in terms of strength, but she also felt as if her lack of damage was in part a function of the subpar representation of her speed and dexterity. Thanks to the environment, neither stat was capable of putting its potential on display. The thick snow stripped her of her ability to dash around, while the cold numbed her fingers and toes. Stabbing at a vital point was next to impossible with the circumstances as they were.

Bumping up her spirit was starting to seem surprisingly viable, as it was the only stat capable of providing her with any real resistance to enchanted blows, like those sourced from the one-eyed primate's frozen blade. Not even wisdom could be written off, as investing in it would improve the efficacy of her magic.

“What do you two think?” Stuck at an impasse, the halfbreed reluctantly addressed the pair that had been silently accompanying her all morning.

“She has finally acknowledged us, Shouldersnake. What do you say? Should we bother responding?”

“There’s no point. She won’t summon us even if we do.”

“Fine, strength it is,” grumbled Claire.

“No, no, no, wait! Strength is such a wasteful stat. Whyever would you bother investing in something as brutish as that?” asked the horse.

“It’s the opposite of wisdom.”

“T-that’s hardly any reason at all, is it? Please, Claire, rethink your decision.”

“Too late,” she said, as she shot the malformed pony a glare, “and I’m sure you’re already well aware why I chose strength.”

“I haven’t the f-faintest idea,” stuttered the horse.

“That’s enough, Pony. The gig’s up.” The relatively silent serpent sighed as it slithered down the length of its owner’s arm and turned around. Let me guess. You invested in strength because we're made of magic?”

Claire nodded.

“Why are you so difficult? I just want to kill things,” said the snake with a sad sigh. “Can’t you at least let me do that?”

“No.”

“And this is why we cannot stand you, Claire. You are far too stubborn,” said the horse.

“No, no, you’ve got that wrong, you stupid Pony,” said the snake. “Claire and I are the ones that can’t stand you.”

“Oh, please, Shouldersnake. We all know that is not true. You both love me dearly.”

There was a moment of silence as the two serpentine creatures cast a simultaneous pitiful gaze upon the odd horse out.

“Girls, please. I know that I happen to be quite the fetching mare, but I can only take so much of your affection. Any more and I might just explode from all the joy.”

Again, both snakes stayed perfectly silent, but the horse never got the message. It instead puffed its malformed body up with pride and even started to blush as it raised its head as high as it could go.

“I wish I was that simple, sometimes,” grumbled Shouldersnake.

“You are. All you care about is killing things.”

“It’s the ultimate pleasure,” said the snake, as it bobbed its head. “And killing things is one of the only ways to ascend.”

“But look at all the effort it requires! I would not say that it is worth it, dear friend,” said Shoulderhorse.

“The point of life is ascension, Pony. Get that through your head,” said Shouldersnake.

“No, no, no, my friend, you are getting it all wrong. The point of life is to enjoy all the pleasures it has to offer, to eat, to sleep, and to indulge yourself in all sorts of depravity. That is our purpose.”

“That, Pony, is your purpose, you lazy cow. I’m talking about everyone else.”

“Seeking enjoyment is the sole universal purpose. Though, I do agree that the privilege should belong primarily to yours truly.”

“Can you shut up? Both of you,” grumbled Claire, as she checked over her belongings. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Only if you promise you’ll let me kill something,” said Shouldersnake.

“I’ll consider it if you have breakfast,” said Shoulderhorse. “It has been too long since you’ve indulged in a treat, and I have just been dying to experience it vicariously. I’d like it even more if you were to summon me and allow me to partake in it myself, however.”

Oh, right. I almost forgot I didn’t eat anything last night.

Activating her authority skill, Claire summoned a basket of stale provisions and fueled herself for the long road ahead.

___

Claire

Health: 512/512
Mana: 1630/1630
Health Regen: 212/hour
Mana Regen: 1144/hour

Ability Scores - 29 Points Available
- Agility: 121
- Dexterity: 129
- Spirit: 100
- Strength: 148
- Vitality: 106
- Wisdom: 286

Racial Class: Halfbreed - Level 28.72
- Lashing Tailstrike - Level 1.00
- Paralyzing Gaze - Level 3.35
- Quadrupedal Bloodrush - Level 1.01

Primary Class: Llystletein Rogue - Level 38.01
- Assassinate - Level 7.65
- Bloodthief - Level 3.83
- Charm Catgirl - Level 1.00
- Cloak and Dagger - Level 6.97
- Double Stab - Level 8.80
- Envenom - Level 11.11
- Manathief - Level 1.75

Secondary Class: Llystletein Force Mage - Level 9.57
- Basic Force Manipulation - Level 7.67
- Basic Force Resistance - Level 2.81
- Detect Force Magic - Level 11.18

Unclassed Skills
- Artifact Manipulation - Level 2.00
- Club Mastery - Level 9.43
- Dagger Mastery - Level 8.46
- Dancing - Level 6.02
- Digging - Level 10.27
- English - Level 25
- Llystletein Authority - Level 4.16
- Makeshift Weapon Mastery - Level 10.33
- Marish - Level 19.02
- Sewing - Level 1.43
- Sneaking - Level 10.39
- Spear Mastery - Level 3.82
- Sword Mastery - Level 6.76
- Throwing - Level 4.89
- Tracking - Level 8.43
- Unarmed Combat Mastery - Level 7.29