Chapter 162: Everything…copacetic?

Chapter 162: Everything...copacetic?

Trees. Trees everywhere. Smoke and the coppery tang of blood filled the air, familiar and welcome and...good.

Mason felt danger but wasn’t afraid. He stepped over tree roots and swept branches until he found the clearing he knew would be ahead.

A giant of a man with antlers sat on a vine and bramble throne atop a platform of bones. His body was a mountain of muscle covered in scars, only a long loincloth covering him from waist to knees. His green and golden eyes watched Mason, his chin resting in one hand.

“Marked by Gaia,” he grumbled with a voice deep as the sea. “A strutting peacock. A scented flower.” He held out a hand, and two nymphs huddled at his feet rose with a basin full of water. He looked inside and snorted. “Salmon. A spawning breeder. In pursuit of what? Peace? Wisdom? You bore me.”

Mason came closer and could see inside the bowl, seeing images flicker across the water. He saw gnolls. He saw himself covered in blood, then acid, killing the Devourer, killing orcs and players and wolves.

“Still,” the horned-man smiled. “There is hope for you, I think. Show me your weapons.”

Mason practically growled as he summoned his Claws.

“Good,” said the man. “The druids have not yet corrupted you completely. Now fight. Fight for your life. Fight for your dignity. Fight for your soul.”

A bear twice Mason’s size emerged from the trees and roared. Branches grew from its head and body, rising up and connecting to the trees like a spider’s webs. It rose up on its hind legs and practically beat its chest with its claws.

Mason activated Aspect of the Cheetah, and charged. He could hear Cerebus or whatever the hell it was laughing with delight as he raced at the bear. But that didn’t stop him.

The bear dropped and swiped with one massive paw, but Mason sped past and rolled between its legs, slicing one with Crippling Strike and moving straight through. He turned and struck with Predator’s Strike and another slice with his smaller Claw before leaping back as the bear turned.

“Where are your precious druids now?” boomed the giant. “Does their wisdom shield you? Does their precious lust for life kill your enemy?”

The bear roared and chased, bleeding and enraged. Mason withdrew but hacked every time it extended a paw, cutting away chunks of flesh and claw.

“You must first survive to breed. To gain knowledge. Only the worthy last. Only the strong.”

Mason mostly tried to ignore the words, but he couldn’t help but agree. He hacked at the bear and kept away until it lost its patience and charged. The clearing had only so much space and he had only moments to decide—under, or around?

He went to the side, slashing at thick fur but forcing himself to get close enough to sink his blades deep. The bear turned and swiped but Mason was too fast. Then it charged again, this time recklessly with mouth open wide.

Mason leapt straight at it, and sunk his longer sword straight into its throat. The roar stopped as blood and air hissed from its neck, huge body trembling then falling as Mason sliced and finished it.

“Good!” The giant had come forward in his throne, clutching at it with enthusiasm. “The hunter does not ask why. He takes. He kills. He eats.”

The word sent a tremble through Mason’s body, and he remembered Nature’s Wrath and used it on the corpse just to see its anatomy. He could see the heart still beating slowly and dropped to his knees, cutting his way through the animal’s body until he seized it.

Still it beat. Strong. The sound like some ancient music only Mason could hear. He stared as he held the huge organ in his hands, watching it rise and fall. Then he leaned forward, took a bite, and chewed.

The taste...was wrong, revolting. He spit it out and tossed the thing away.

“Pah!” Cerebus growled. “Just as I expected, you’re weak. You wouldn’t eat younglings to survive, would you? Or to put your mate in heat. Or kill a rival before he could challenge you. Why should I give you power when you won’t even use it?

“My strength...” Mason spit blood. “...is to protect what’s mine. Not to take what isn’t.”

The bear’s corpse just vanished. Growls came from everywhere around the circle, familiar enough Mason blinked and looked for Streak.

“How noble.” It was clear what the giant thought of that word. “First you must claim something to protect.”

Wolves came snarling from every direction. They looked much like those Mason found in the great woods, if slightly paler and larger. He lowered his weapons and stared at the first to arrive.

[Apex Predator activated.]

The wolves all stopped snarling and sat, covering their teeth with their lips. Mason smiled.

“A druid’s trick!” growled Cerebus. “But what if you find an enemy who can’t be fooled?”

Another, much larger beast leaped into the clearing, its body a fearful symmetry of stripes and muscle and claws. The huge tiger smashed the nearest wolf from its feet, sending it flying back with a whine. Mason activated Speak with Nature.

[Stay back. Attack only once I’ve engaged him.]

[Synergy removed: Nature’s Wrath ===> Ranger’s Mark.]

[New Synergy Detected: Regeneration+ ===> Transformation. What doesn’t kill you, really should have.]

As he read the changes several thoughts hit him at once. First, losing nature’s wrath sucked. But he probably hadn’t used it as much as he should have anyway. Second, the lack of actual explanations for anything was really starting to piss him off. And third, what in the name of God did ‘transformation’ mean?

Of course there was nothing he could do about it anyway. And it was time to check his profile and figure out what ‘bond’ had actually done.

Mason Nimitz

Level: 15

Primary Class: Ranger (tier 2)

Secondary Class: Druid

Prestige Class: Avatar of Cerebus

Strength: 18

Dexterity: 23

Vitality: 22

Intellect: 12

Will: 16

Presence: 10

Luck: 9

Essences: Essence of the Wolf.

Bonded Companion(s): Great Taiga Wolf

Titles: Killer, Early Lead, Soloist, Crazy like a Fox, Burnt the Boats, Patron, Progenitor, Hit the Ground Running, First Blood, Defender, The Prestige, Tiering it up, Phase Jumper, Front Runner, What Is Dead May Never Die, Poison Shmoison

Powers: Power Shot, Crippling Strike+, Transformation, Predator’s Strike, *Nature Affinity, Ranger’s Claws (T2), Endless Quiver+, Trapmaking, Aspect of the Cheetah, Blessing of Gaia, Ranger’s Mark, Duality of Strength]

Oh. Apparently there was a Bonded Companion ‘tab’. He opened it and saw Streak’s name, along with a dull green color that said ‘Bond level: low’, whatever the hell that meant. It looked like there was place holders for maybe a list of statistics and even a power list, with apparently something called...

[Shared Pain: Fight together, die together.]

Mason was actually greatly comforted by the possibility of that. But for now he blinked it all away and turned towards the totem, looking for his friend.

“Streak?” he called. “Are you alright?”

The wolf leapt down from some nearby rocks, tongue out and tail wagging as he crossed the gap. Mason grinned, then knelt and held out his arms, but slowly froze as the wolf got closer.

Its eyes were glowing green like Mason’s. And he’d...uh, grown.

Streak basically plowed into Mason’s face with his chest. It nearly knocked him over, then he had to stand up to actually look...just slightly down on the creature. Streak’s head was over five feet high.

He made several growling, whining sounds as he tried to leap up and lick and paw at Mason with his massive feet, and in that moment Mason decided it was a bloody good thing he had roboGod superpowers.

“Happy to...see you too, buddy.” He scratched and pat with abandon until the animal finally calmed and plopped down for belly rubs. Mason laughed. At least his personality hadn’t changed.

Phuong cleared his throat, and it occurred to Mason that the players had all been witnessing...whatever the hell they’d just witnessed. Mason smiled a little sheepishly as he scratched Streak, not entirely sure what to say.

“So, um. Everything...copacetic?” Seamus said from nearby, his voice slightly raised in pitch.

“Yeah.” Mason let the anxiety for his friend roll off his shoulders, knowing at least some of it had really been for Blake. “I’m good. I think. Now let’s go kill a shitload of goblins.”