Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 78 - The Descent II

Claire took to the skies after a breakfast of bread and ripened coconuts. Her destination was not the citadel, but the savannah, the territory swarmed with a countless number of monsters. It wasn’t the most efficient use of her time. She knew that the best course of action would have been to visit Beckard and learn whatever skills he had to offer before jumping into another horde, but she decided against it so she could focus on experimenting with lyrkrian martial arts. It was clearly a logical decision completely uninfluenced by her experiences or emotions. Clearly.

“What are you gonna fight anyway? Do you have anything specific in mind?” asked the fox sitting on her head.

“No. I’ll wander around.”

“I guess I’ll follow from a little further back so I don’t get caught up in anything. Be careful, okay? Some of the monsters here are a lot stronger than the ones you were fighting in Mirewood Meadow.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sylvia’s concern wasn’t entirely unwarranted. The fox could tell, from the way the bluescale would sometimes suddenly clench her fists, that she was still rattled by the previous night’s events, but if Claire insisted that she was alright, then there was nothing that the four-legged fairy could do.

“Well, if you say so… I kinda liked playing with the sea cows though. Maybe we should do that again instead?”

The manatee that fled in terror had soon returned with some of its friends in the middle of their breakfast, and surprisingly, not for revenge. The group had been much more interested in lazing around by the campfire and eating any vegetation tossed their way.

“I’ll be fine, Sylvia. Stop worrying.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Claire gave herself one last push and boosted up above the floating island. Before her lay a beautiful expanse, rolling hills upon rolling hills of nothing but tall dried grasses swaying in the wind, a scene reminiscent of the golden fields she so often saw just outside the capital. Though she had just finished a meal, she was tempted to give the grass a try, just to see if it would taste anything like the hay she had so often consumed back at the manor. Unlike most other members of the nobility, she lacked familiarity with specific varieties and their unique traits, but it wasn’t as if she detested the staple. It made up more than half of the military’s rations, and the manor always had a stock ready for anyone that felt the need to snack.

Seeing no reason to resist that exact urge, she landed in a particularly dry patch by the floating island’s edge and squatted down so she could retrieve it. Sylvia took the opportunity to jump off and stretch, but rather than leaning forward and extending her body, as foxes usually did, she got up on her hind legs and raised her front paws as high as they would go.

Once content, she turned to the lyrkress and found her chewing on a bundle of fibre. “Uhh… Claire? What are you doing?”

The rogue swallowed. “Eating.”

“I can see that! I mean, why are you eating grass?”

“I wanted to try it.”

“Yeah, but it’s grass! Why would you eat grass when there’s all sorts of other stuff? Right in front of you too!” she pointed at a small yellow shrub dotted with orange berries. “Wouldn’t you normally try one of those first?”

“I’m half cervitaur.”

“Yeah, and deer love berries and stuff!”

“I’m not a deer.” She took another bite, just to confirm that she wasn’t imagining the nostalgic flavour. It tastes… cheap.

“But that’s what a cervitaur is! Ughhhh!! You’re really difficult sometimes, you know that?” grumbled the fox.

“I know.” Somewhat satisfied with the observation, Claire thrusted a yellowed bundle towards her four-legged friend. “Want to try some?”

“Ummm… no thanks.”

“It’s not terrible.”

“That’s okay. I don’t really think foxes can eat grass.”

Claire shrugged and raised it back towards her mouth. It was far from delicious, tasting almost exactly like the low-quality legumes meant for the prisoners her father kept in the manor’s basement, but at the very least, the taste was decent enough for her to register it as something. Nostalgia was the greater of the two forces that drove her consumption. It had been a long time since she last visited the basement. Her father had added extra security measures after learning that she was a frequent visitor. She had often tasked the former lords and generals to dispose of the frogs her mother kept trying to feed her.

Her lunch already decided, Claire raised her eyes and looked over the savannah. There were monsters everywhere; the flat plain made it incredibly difficult for anything taller than a dwarf to stay hidden. She had what seemed like a hundred possible targets, and no idea which she was meant to select. It was too open. She was sure to be watched no matter what she chose to attack and there was no telling when an idle observer would suddenly decide to join the battle, nor would there be any indication if she happened to attract something far out of her league.

Her first thought was to get around the problem by opting into stealth, but the size of her frame made it impossible. She was much too tall. Until she changed her height.

A moment of consideration led her to transform into a full-on snake girl. As a humanoid serpent, she could easily slither through the undergrowth without attracting any attention. The spike in her chest stopped her from pressing her whole body against the soil, but she was hardly the only lamia with such a problem—not that there were other lamias with true ice shards stuck in their chests. She was pretty sure that she was the only one, pure or half bred, suffering from that exact conundrum, but they at least had something similar going on. Most females of her mother’s species, especially those of the gorgonian lineage, were relatively well endowed, possessing curvy hips and bountiful bosoms that often impeded their slithering. Oddly enough, the same could be said for the other half of her family tree. Centaurs were also known for having extremely large chests, with cervitaurs being no exception. But in spite of all the family history, the literal generations upon generations of portraits featuring ladies with voluptuous proportions, Claire found herself an exception. All her nutrients had gone to her ears instead, a lossless merit, as far as she was concerned.

Now that she had a chest spike—and more importantly a lamian form—the halfbreed could finally experience all her foremothers’ inconvenience and discomfort for herself. And that was exactly what she did. She pressed her entire body against the ground, burying the spike in the crumbly dry soil that lay beneath the vegetation. With no more wooden floors or giant slabs of ice to worry about, she found that her chest was not nearly as bad as advertised. While it certainly did slow her down, pushing a tad bit harder allowed her to cleave straight through the dirt as would some sort of living plough. This isn’t nearly as bad as everyone said it was. Then again, I’m not… normal.

Log Entry 1812
Lyrkrian Shapeshifting has reached level 5.

Slowly, silently, she wormed her way over to her first victim, a large spotted canine with massive rocky tusks and a short, curly tail akin to that of a pig’s. There hadn’t been any obvious ways for the force mage to select a target, so she went with the tried and true method of seeking the least aesthetically pleasing straggler.

Assassinate kicked in as she activated phantom blade and brought both her daggers down on the back of its neck. It was, by all accounts, a fatal blow. But the monster’s tough, stone-like skin proved far too durable—a feat that her weapons failed to replicate. Neither the horn nor the bone were able to bear the force of the blow. One gave in and crumpled while the other cracked and split in half. Needless to say, both were immediately discarded, cast into the field as she leapt away from the botched kill.

The hyena-boar spun around and roared at her, its eyes glowing with rage. One critical failure was all it had taken to turn the assassation attempt into a head-on confrontation, the exact situation that she had been trying to avoid.

Grumbling internally, Claire undid her transformation right as the monster charged. Its height barely differed from her own, but it had many times her bulk. Each heavy step was accompanied by a thud loud enough for her to think that the creature was shaking the whole island. Though hefty, the beast was incredibly fast; the distance between them vanished in the blink of an eye. But the lyrkress didn’t panic. Because she was even faster.

A quick leap to the side was all it took for her to stop the pig-like hyena from goring her. It swung its face and slashed with its tusks to catch her while she was in the air, but she countered the attempt with a kick to the jaw. Like her weapons, her hooves remained incapable of breaking past the ridiculously tough skin hidden beneath its fur, but she had more than enough power to displace its face.

There was a brief shattering sound as the two made contact, and not the sort that came with the breaking of bone. It was more hollow and high pitched, almost reminiscent of the sound a glass bottle would make when brought down on the back of someone’s head. It took a moment for Claire to realise that it was the enchantment, the most obvious indicator of which was the icy aura wrapped around her foot.

She had been caught completely off guard by the extra effect, but the monster didn’t feel the same. In fact, it hardly seemed to notice. It simply continued on its way before turning around and breaking into a second primitive charge. The lyrkress thought that it was trying to lure her into a false sense of security, so she kept her guard raised, but nothing special seemed to happen. Another casual sidestep was all she needed to avoid taking damage.

Again, the mage counter attacked, this time with ice magic. She raised an empty hand and shot a large bolt straight at the hyena’s flank. But like her daggers, it too had failed to penetrate. The frozen blade bounced right off the spotted pig without so much as leaving a scratch.

Expecting the creature to charge at her for a third time, the rogue drew her mace so she could face it head on. But the monster never turned. It simply continued to run off into the distance without ever looking back.

Had Claire been anyone else, she likely would have dismissed the encounter as a lesson well learnt and moved onto a softer, squishier target. But Claire was Claire, which was to say that she was an avid non-believer in the sunk cost fallacy. With her brow twitching and her fangs clenched, the bluescale shifted to a four-legged form and galloped after the hyena boar. It was only running about half her speed, so she was able to catch up and start hitting it with her mace, but again, it didn’t care. It didn’t even bother facing her as it continued to make a beeline straight for the horizon.

Having had more than enough frustration for the day, Claire summoned her offence-oriented spirit guardian and flung it straight at the giant dog pig. Shouldersnake had no trouble latching on, biting down, and injecting its fangs straight into the monster’s carotid. Alternating between all her available poisons, she slowed it down even further by making it sneeze and hampered its movements by filling its body with gunk.

The boar started barking and squealing as its soft interior was exposed to her attacks. It finally stopped running and turned to face her, slashing and stabbing with its tusks as one would a trident, but it wasn’t able to make contact. She ducked under the first attack, leapt over the second, and kicked it in the face to redirect a third. The fourth blow grazed her chest, only to provide her with a discovery that doubled as a reminder.

Its tusks were softer than her true ice shard.

And that was all she needed to know.

The lyrkress leapt into the air, joined Shouldersnake on its back, and enveloped the monster’s skull in a tight embrace.

Log Entry 1813
You have slain a level 55 Llystletein Field Turtle.

This feat has earned you the following bonuses
- 1 point of agility
- 6 points of dexterity
- 2 points of strength
- 3 points of wisdom

Next time I see Alfred, we’re going to have a sit-down about names.

Log Entry 1814
You have unlocked a new spawnable drink item.

Log Entry 1815
You have leveled up. Your health and mana have been restored and all harmful status effects have been cleansed.

Your primary class, Llystletein Bloodthief, has reached level 54.

Your secondary class, Llystletein Force Mage, has reached level 43.

You have gained 12 ability points.

Log Entry 1816
Bloodthief has reached level 10.

Log Entry 1817
Frostblight Lyrkrian Martial Arts has reached level 3.

Log Entry 1818
Phantom Blade has reached level 6.

Claire scanned her surroundings as she wiped the blood off her chest. For some strange reason, there was nothing attacking her. The savannah’s denizens did little but look on, idly, with their eyes glazed and their spirits seemingly nonpresent. Only upon taking a second look did she realise that there was something very strange going on. The monsters were sitting around in interspecies groups. That, in and of itself, was not necessarily something out of the ordinary; symbiotes, parasites, and interspecies friendships were all commonplace. What caught her eye was the distribution. Obvious predator and prey species were seated alongside each other without any of them showing even the slightest bit of anxiety. Rodents, cats, wolves, and deer were all gathered in the same spots, sometimes even grooming each other as casually as if it were not a clear violation of the natural order.

Something wasn’t right.

The more she thought about it, the more obvious it became. The land turtle wasn’t running away from her. It was trying to escape from something else. And looking off into the distance, at the encroaching shadow, gave her a fairly good idea of exactly what that something was.