Primal Dawn

“Dungeon Break!” Thump-thump-thump. A fist pounded against the door near Zilas. “Open the door! Dungeon Break!”

The tamers looked questioningly toward Zilas, and he finally gave a nod, and one of them unlocked it. The door quickly flew open, and a small mob of tamers and primals funneled inside, not stopping for a moment.

Just as the last tamer was to make it past the doorway, he tripped just beneath it. He screamed as something yanked him back outside the fort. His cries quickly became gurgled, only to vanish. Someone slammed the door shut. A feminine scream could be heard briefly outside, then drowned out by the stomach-churning sound of ferals gorging themselves.

“Get to your positions!” the man who led the tamers inside shouted. “Ranged primals to the battlements, the rest surround the door, a few watch the gate!”

A whirlwind had been set off inside Shantee. Every tamer and primal began to hurry into formation.

“Kalista, watch the gate! Gaia, to the walls!” Peter commanded as he dropped his traveling gear while Gaia materialized. Peter followed Gaia up the wooden staircase leading to the top of the walls. Already there were primals at the top launching attacks.

“Throw!” “Fireball!” “Prepared Shot!” “Sticky Bomb!”

Gaia launched her poisonous flower. “Toxic Bloom!”

Peter peered down at the primals outside. There were a number of different ferals. Some, familiar. Squires, Frens, a Trickster. Others, not so much. Between all of them lay two large mangled heaps of blood and flesh, actively being devoured by the ferals. The Trickster raised her staff and pointed it towards Peter and the others.

“Duck!” Peter shouted just before a fireball passed overhead. The ferals, now finished with their meal, began to bang relentlessly against the door and wall.

“Open the door!” someone shouted from below. In a moment, Peter saw the ferals begin to funnel inside the fort through the narrow entrance from the outside. He stepped away from the outer edge of the wall and peered inside Shantee. Why would they let them in?

The tamers’ primals had created a semicircle surrounding the door. As each feral stepped inside, they were attacked on all sides. But slowly, with the Squires raising their shields to defend themselves, they began to force their way into the courtyard. 

“Ranged primals, switch to attacking those inside!” A voice shouted.

The primals near Peter immediately moved to where he was standing and began to launch the next barrage. Attacked from both above and at all sides, soon the ferals began to quickly go down.

Finally, the battle was over. One Squire remained injured and bleeding alive, the rest had been killed. Some of the tamers had begun to argue about the Trickster having died and not been incapacitated. Others were discussing how to determine who would capture the Squire so she could be turned in. Peter felt a mysterious pain in his heart as he watched her clutch her open wound, fruitlessly trying to hold onto her own blood.

“Soldier!” Rand shouted. Peter saw that he was pointing his finger towards him. “Disobeying a commanding officer’s instructions? Why are you on the battlements?!”

Peter quickly rushed to the staircase. “The order!” Rand shouted. He took each step down, fast but careful. “Was primals!” As he reached the halfway point, he saw Rand was fast approaching the bottom of the stairs. “To the battlements!” Peter continued downwards. “Not!” Now at the bottom, he stood just before Rand. “TAMERS!” He boomed, and swung his fist at Peter’s head.

A startled Peter briefly froze in surprise, but then… came a hot flash. Something boiled… burned within him. As the punch passed by him, Peter felt a surge of power, and pulled his fist back, then swung. His punch collided with Rand’s chest, and Peter recoiled in pain.

For a moment he wondered if Rand wasn't human, or perhaps wearing armor. As he held his knuckles, he glanced at Rand and saw he hunched over, gripping his chest, where different medals adorning his uniform hung off the fabric, now slightly bent.

“Hitting a commanding officer! Do you want to be court-martialed, soldier!” Rand shouted as he clutched his heart tightly, his eyes bulging like they would fly towards Peter if they knew how.

“I’m. Not. A. Soldier. I’m a tamer.” Peter angrily said while clutching his hand.

For a moment, Rand’s focus reset, and his gaze appeared momentarily lost. Then he frowned, and angrily said, “Then see to it that you learn how to follow instructions. The rest of you, fine work in today’s battle.” His gaze fell on Gaia, who had been standing a few steps above Peter on the staircase. “You there, healer, see to it that you take care of these brave fighters.”

“She’s my primal,” Peter calmly said, “and she listens to me.”

“Then have her relay the order to you,” Rand sternly said, "And see that it is done." He then marched back towards his shack.

The pudgy man from before as well as his primals appeared and began to collect the bodies of the ferals and brought them into the large building. The rest were dumped outside the fort by some of the tamers.

Peter saw that the bleeding Squire had succumbed to her injuries while the others argued, so she joined the rest outside.

Some of the primals who had been injured in the fight and their tamers were looking towards Peter. 

He sighed. “Alright. If you’re injured, line up over here,” Peter said as he pointed towards some empty space nearby.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Zilas began to say as he raised his arms. “Don’t worry about it, newbie. We don’t have to bother the newcomer with our problems already, right folks?” Zilas said as he looked towards the others. They all nervously nodded their heads. Some of them lined up before Zilas, who began to hand out potions in exchange for money. Others took out their own potions.

One man approached Peter, his injured Arachnid close behind. “Please, I don’t have any money left, can you heal her?” It seemed she was missing a leg and scratched heavily.

Zilas quickly appeared behind the man, as if he had the ability to teleport, and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry friend, you can pay me back later.”

“Gaia, just heal her.” Peter said as he rolled his eyes.

“Do you have her leg?” Gaia asked. The man nodded and held it against where it had broken off. “Heal!” Gaia’s hands began to glow, and the gap between the two parts bubbled in a green light which formed a seal to hold them together. 

Zilas glared at Peter, and Peter glared back. Finally, Zilas broke his gaze and returned to the group of tamers he had been standing with before. After some time, the healing finished, and the Arachnid began to move her leg side to side, displaying its restored functionality.

“T-thank you,” the tamer stuttered before he hugged his primal.

“Thank you, Gaia,” Peter said, trying to both thank her as well as direct the tamer’s thanks towards her. She smiled in response.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The loud sound of metal clashing against metal startled Peter. For a moment he wondered if there was another attack so soon after the previous one, only to spot the pudgy man who had been unloading the wagon hitting a pan with a ladle.

“Dinner's on!" he shouted. A horde of tamers began to line up in front of the table he was standing next to. A few primals stood to his right behind two giant metal pots on the table while he held a clipboard.

The line slowly quickly inched forward person by person. Peter spotted a tamer walking past having already collected his meal. A bowl of beige colored gloop. Odorless. If it had any scent to it, he would have thought it had been vomit.

At the front of the line, Peter stood face to face with the pudgy man. "License?" The man asked.

Peter showed his license. The man inspected it and flipped through a few pages on his clipboard and then frowned.

"Not on any list, not getting any food. Next!" He shouted as he tossed the license back towards Peter.

"How do I-"

"Do a Dungeon Dive! Next!" The man shouted even louder. Peter quickly left while grumbling to himself.

"No handouts here I suppose. Good thing you had scavenged all that extra food, Gaia."

As he approached his backpack where he had left it, he looked at it puzzled.

Where was the tent? It wasn't attached to the back. Had… had Gaia and Kalista set it up already? But they were with him?

He opened up the pack. All the food was gone, as well as his coat and summoning stone. The only thing left was a few of his clothes. Peter's hands began to tremble as they gripped the sides of the container.

"Did you two," he said slowly as his voice began to shake, "happen to move our stuff somewhere?" Peter asked aloud to Gaia and Kalista.

"No," Gaia gasped. "I'm sorry Peter, I, I should have gone back to our things while you were waiting in line. I was standing with you… Stupid!" Gaia cursed at herself as her hands curled into fists and pressed on the edges of her forehead.

"No, no. Please don’t be harsh on yourself. It's not your fault. You two fight and take care of me, the least I can do is watch our stuff.” Peter let out a deep, guttural sigh. “Damnit." He hung his head low for a moment, then angrily looked up and around Shantee.

His eyes scanned around for his tent, but he couldn't spot it anywhere. Wherever it went, it was currently hidden. For a moment he wondered if Fira might have done something, but there wasn't enough room in her ass for all the things missing. Peter spotted Rand leaning against his shack eating from a bowl while observing other tamers. He felt a surge of anger and began to stomp towards him. He probably took his things as punishment for 'disobeying orders' or something stupid.

Rand looked up from his food as Peter approached, but his expression remained steady.

"Where is my tent? Give my things back." Peter growled.

Rand swallowed his food. "Why would I have your tent?"

"Corporal punishment, or whatever. Give it back."

Rand watched Peter carefully. "If you're looking for a tent,” he paused as he took another spoonful and gave the slightest hint of disgust, before pointing with the empty spoon, “look where the tents are."

Peter blinked a few times before turning around and looking towards the dense pack of tents resting in the corner of Shantee.

Zilas.

—

In a cave distant from hope, tucked away within the mounts of a desolate land, something stirred. Surrounded by empty crates and remnants of provisions now lost to both time and hunger, it glanced toward the east, and made the only sound it remembered how.

“Lord?”