Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 46 - Close Encounters of the Barely Intelligible V

Setting her leg-spear down in the snow, Claire cracked her shoulders and seated herself atop a large frozen rock. Behind her were a series of tracks so deeply imprinted that they almost seemed permanent, impossible to remove. They traced the exact path she had taken, covering every step, misstep, and detour from start to finish. But despite all apparent testimonies to the contrary, the trail was transient. The high winds would slowly but surely cover them in a blanket of snow; a few hours was all it would take for her tracks to vanish, just like the centaurian hoofprints she had followed the previous day.

She had no idea where the pair had gone. There were no other indicators of their presence and they were well beyond the range of her Tracking skill. That, however, did little to discourage her. There were many ways up the mountain and there was no guarantee that the centaurs’ route had been optimal to begin with.

Day two of trudging through the snow went by with far less difficulty. The cold was still proving itself an unrelenting source of fatigue, but the soft wooly equipment that now adorned her shoulders was at least keeping her warm enough to ward off the urge to close her eyes and roll over. Despite being something she made on a whim, her scarf had become the star of the show. Her lungs weren’t freezing anymore and it no longer hurt to breathe. She couldn’t smell as well with her tongue tucked inside of the muffler, but the suppression of her already subpar olfactory sense was not something she found herself particularly concerned with.

Much more harmful was the need to keep her ears held down. She could still hear, but everything was muffled and she was finding it difficult to track the sounds to their sources. The snow wasn’t helping her case either. It served as a dampener and dulled her ability to pick up on threats from afar. Even the borroks, with their loud buzzing wings, were hard to make out. She had to take off her cowl and strain her fluffy listeners if she wanted to detect them before they could detect her.

The sound of a distant hoot led her to do exactly that. She pulled back her hood and raised her ears as high as they would go. With the action came a great sense of discomfort. The wind sent shivers down her spine and small flakes of snow settled in her hair each time it blew, but she kept her ears peeled regardless.

There was a battle happening up ahead. Someone, or perhaps something, was fighting a group of borroks. She couldn’t tell what species the combatant was, but she could make out its gender from the occasional curse or grunt that left its throat. It—he—wasn’t having a good time.

Borroks aren't very hard to deal with… Maybe the ones he’s fighting are ascended.

Pulling her cloak back over her head, Claire climbed the hill in front of her and took up a position behind a small mound of snow. The battle was taking place inside of a large valley, the center of which was a half-frozen lake with platforms of ice aplenty. Standing on top of one of the floating blocks was a squirrel that stood at about half her height. The red-furred creature vaguely reminded her of a veaber, given its overall shape, but she doubted the evaluation’s accuracy. It wasn’t ugly or naked enough and the incredible bursts of speed that it demonstrated were far off spec.

If not for its lack of grip, she was confident that the rodent would have long come out on top. Its feet slipped each time it tried to stop or turn, the excess motion almost always robbing it of the ability to throw a counter. Getting back to shore seemed like the obvious choice, but the tree-climber refused. It was, for some odd reason, trying its best to stay atop a large piece of ice.

An explanation in the form of a borrok variant surfaced soon after she made the observation. It looked almost exactly the same as all the others, save for the fin that replaced its wings. The bug-monkey cast a spell each time it popped its head out of the water and created a series of magical waves that threatened to capsize the tree-climber’s platform.

“That squirrel would make a pretty nice pair of mittens,” Claire muttered under her breath as she watched the battle ensue.

“Yes, it would. Now let me kill it,” said Shouldersnake.

“Oh, stop it you two. Why must you always be so violent? It just so happens to be a lovely day out today. Why don’t we bask in the sun and have a nap instead?”

“It’s not lovely,” said the halfbreed. “It’s windy, snowy, and there isn’t a sun to bask in.”

It had been nearly three hours since Claire departed from the watcher’s cave, but the night had shown no signs of ending. The moon was still exactly where it had been when she first arrived. Its complete lack of motion was starting to give her the feeling that its position would never change, no matter how long she waited. The lack of a sun, however, didn’t prove itself an obstacle. Countless celestial bodies worked together to lift the night’s veil. Reflected by the snow, the twinkling stars provided her eyes with everything she needed to get a near perfect grasp on her surroundings.

“Oh, you, always such a downer.” Shoulderhorse heaved a dramatic sigh. “Silly Claire, all you need to do to find all the sunshine and rainbows you could possibly ask for is to look inside your heart.”

The force mage rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but the danger noodle sitting on her other shoulder beat her to the punch. “No one cares about any of your dumb preaching, Pony. It’s kill time.”

“No. It’s not. We’re staying here and watching,” mumbled Claire.

“But don’t you want the squirrel’s pelt? The borroks will mess it up if you let them kill it. Summon me, Claire. I’ll kill everythin—”

“Hey! You! Up on the cliff! Give me a hand!” Shouldersnake’s millionth appeal was cut off by a gruff shout.

With a start, Claire turned her gaze back to the squirrel, who had screamed straight at the mound she was hidden behind. The pair locked eyes. He knew that she got the message. But that didn’t mean she was going to respond. If anything, she was starting to feel as if it was time for her to leave. The rogue had no intention of getting involved with someone capable of pinpointing her while her stealth-based skills were active.

“I just need you to do something about the one in the water!” The squirrel shouted. “I’ll owe you a favour afterwards, so please!”

What if he’s trying to trick me? The mage’s free hand fell to her dagger as she thought her way through the problem. The rodent was fast, incredibly so, but she was fairly confident that she could kill him if push came to shove. His reactions weren’t as quick as his movements, and he seemed to be struggling with a number of borroks that she was fairly certain she could take, slippery footing or not.

Her decision made, Claire snuck down from her perch and approached the lake with one arm dragging her leg-spear behind her. The other was held to her side, radiating magic. Her most expensive spell was cast by the time she reached the bottom of the valley, the result of which was an annoying serpent atop her shoulder.

“I’m… real! I’m real! I can kill things! I knew you’d come around!”

“Shut up. You’re a nuisance,” groaned Claire.

A strange sense of discomfort coursed through her arm as the once-phantom serpent slithered down its length. She could feel it. She could feel its scales against hers, just as well as she could feel hers against its. And that was only the tip of the iceberg. The snake’s body moved as she willed it. It turned itself upside down, wriggled back and forth, and stopped in place whenever she issued the corresponding command. Manipulating the ophidian was no less natural than moving a limb.

Even more bizarre than the sudden extension to her nervous system was the knowledge that came with it. She knew exactly how she was supposed to use the guardian and all of its abilities. She understood them better than she did any of the other tricks she had up her sleeve; none of her other skills had ever offered anywhere near as much of a sense of familiarity. It was, by all means, something that should have disturbed her. The skill felt so right that it was wrong. But the mage wasn’t bothered. It was a feeling she knew, identical to the experience of carrying out a ritual’s final step. It was like everything was falling into place. Exactly the way it should.

Still, that wasn’t to say that there was zero cause for concern. The psychic link binding her to the psychopathic snake was overwhelming. She could feel it seething with hatred, a powerful all consuming wrath that threatened to flood her consciousness with nothing but thoughts of murder. But just as it was about to take over, it vanished, leaving her with nothing but the smoldering embers that were its remnants. The occasional impulse or two coursed through her, but they were weakened, nowhere near as mind-numbing as the first.

Log Entry 899
Basic Force Resistance has reached level 3.

She was able to locate the borrok within the depths as soon as she got to the edge. Its colouration made it stand out like a sore thumb, its darkened body a stark contrast against the sandy beach that lay beneath the crystal clear ice.

Claire had wanted to spend a moment observing the aquatic cat bug, but she wasn’t given the chance. Shouldersnake shot forward like an arrow, and her hand with it. The limb was forced to extend as the two meter-long snake plunged into the water with its tail wrapped around her wrist.

Log Entry 900
Basic Force Manipulation has reached level 8.

A moment later, it re-emerged with its teeth clasped around the primate’s neck. Only half of the thick meaty spine-protector could fit in the serpent’s mouth, even with its jaw unhinged, but even so, the borrok failed to resist. The only movement it managed was the occasional twitch of a leg. It was already done for. The serpent had put its fangs to work and injected the bug with a fatal dose of quicksilver.

Log Entry 901
You have slain a level 28 borroqua.

This feat has earned you 1 point of wisdom.

Log Entry 902
You have unlocked a new spawnwable drink item.

I hate these dumb names. Did Alfred come up with them? I bet he did.

“And that’s why you should let me kill things.” The snake smiled smugly as it released its prey.

“I could’ve done it myself,” said Claire, as she looked towards the squirrel.

The furry critter had already moved from his previous position in the middle of the lake over to the opposite shore, where he soon dispatched the remaining borroks with ease. On land, his speed was higher and his dashes were more controlled. No longer did he skid every time he tried to stop.

“What are you doing? That stupid rodent is going to kill all the borroks if you don’t hurry up and get over there!”

“I don’t care.”

“Well I do!”

“I’m going to dismiss you if you don’t shut up.”

“Fine…”

The snake obliged and closed its mouth, but it didn’t get any less annoying. It would move just within range of her peripherals lest she went out of her way to take control.

“Stop that.” She grabbed both the noodle’s ends, squeezing its mouth shut as she tucked her hand underneath her cloak.

“Mmrrrphh mrrph mrphhhhh.”

Sighing, the halfbreed walked over to the squirrel, which had eliminated the final borrok with a flying kick. The few wounds he suffered quickly closed as he tore his foot from the exploding primate’s skull, kicked it away, and turned to face her. He seemed aware of the fact that he was completely unpresentable, as he tried to dust off the front of his pelt as one would an article of clothing. To no avail, of course, but she did at least note that the effort was made.

“Thanks, I owe you one. They would’ve got me if that went on for any longer.”

“How are you paying me back?”

“Wait, you’re a girl?” The squirrel squinted and leaned forward as he tried to get a better look at her face, but his confusion remained. Both the scarf that masked her lips and the hood that covered her eyes made it next to impossible for him to make out her features.

“Does it matter?”

“I was just surprised is all,” he said, before starting to mutter under his breath. “This means I’m not stuck in the scenario I thought I was in after all. I thought heroines weren’t supposed to show up on the first day. Well, I guess this works too. I’ll just have to change some of my plans a bit, but I guess that’ll depend on identifying all the right tropes.”

His whispers were quiet, but not quiet enough to escape Claire’s ears. The words he meant to hide were as clear to her as those that he hadn’t.

“Wait, no, I don’t think I can judge until the scarf’s gone. And there’s no telling what sort of heroine I’ve got on my hands anyway, if a heroine at all. Not that it matters all that much. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to go with making a good impression either way, unless she’s one of the weirder types.”

I think he’s lost his mind. For the second time in twenty four hours, Claire found herself staring down a furry creature that she could only barely understand.

Maybe I should just get this over with and stab him in the face.