Prospero rolled onto his stomach and admired, however faint it was in the dark, the immense scar he’d managed to leave on the stalagmite. He could no longer sense the rumblings of the Tugworms after him. A welcome respite - or so he wished.
Either this place is beyond their territory, he thought. -Or there’s something down here than not even they want to disturb, Knowing my luck…
With that said, there was no grand monster slumbering in that cavern besides the claustrophobia growing in his gut. His mind was half-set on discovering an exit that wouldn’t involve traipsing through a nest of bloodthirsty worms, but the pull of the labyrinth was igniting his curiosity just as fiercely.
From that split in the passage, there were two paths to take, each leading around on their loops towards a shared destination. He padded down the left path and hugged the wall to remain out of sight, finding himself mesmerised by a mysterious light pulsing up from the depths; cerulean, like Grimhilde’s, but brighter. Prospero descended until the tunnel and its brother terminated onto a ledge overlooking something that was very much unlike a cave.
Gods above, he blinked. What is this…?
A meadow of blue grass sprawled further than the eye could see, contained within a cavern of impossible scope, such that the ceiling and its furthest walls were hidden from view. The distant trunks of sparkling trees were marked with the brands of the runic path. Elks with marbled fur pranced along the crests and valleys. Tendrils of lightning arced between their horns.
Prospero had never learned nor heard of anything close to what he was witnessing. The sight was beyond beautiful; certainly paradise to someone or other. He remained on that ledge and took in the discovery, relieved at last to happen upon something that eased his heart for once.
These elk… their hides are marked with runes, he observed the creatures from on high, hiding himself over the ledge to avoid spooking them. Magical beasts are extremely rare to find in the wild… this place must be the result of their anima’s influence.
On the Magi realm of Hartlokus, artificial zones of anima were cultivated to provide a home to such creatures. One elk was worth more silver than any man could hope to earn in a lifetime. The conditions needed to sustain one in the wild were so fickle that most Magi had given up searching for them entirely.
And to think, there was one right under my nose this whole time, Prospero thought. I’m sure Grimhilde would have loved to see this.
The source of the lights illuminating the chamber were nestled right in the cores of the trees. A heartbeat of anima was squeezing through the branches, creating small clouds of violet smoke around the underground forest. When Prospero slid down a nearby incline, one of the Elk raised its head from a grazing posture to glance in his direction, only to return to its meal a second later. He took the opportunity to examine its statistics.
Every mouthful of the blue grass caused a surge of power within its horns. Prospero rounded the beast to see the same rune on one side mirrored on the other. He understood very little of the Runic Way beyond his passing interest in the art as a child, but he knew that the sigil ran perfectly through the Elk’s body, and that it was the volume of runic power created by that natural occurrence which lended the beast its powers.
He distracted himself with such thoughts to escape from the inevitable question. Magical beasts were powerful, and taking the form of one would be no small victory for the Beastblood.
But, he hesitated. Do I have the right to attack these creatures? This small slice of paradise hidden under the earth is a miracle of creation. It would be beyond cruel to disturb it.
Perhaps an injured one. An old one, close to death. He could kill two birds with one stone that way, satisfying his own morality while continuing to feed the Beastblood. The only problem would be finding one in such a state - if, indeed, the creatures could know death at all.
Perhaps sensing his intentions, the elk wandered off. Prospero was compelled to follow it across the sweeping meadow, where it stopped just shy of the luminescent treeline. It dragged a hoof along the grass as if to direct Prospero’s attention towards some unseen threat.
It seems to be pointing me somewhere, he thought. I’ll have a look. It would be a waste to leave this place without exploring a little.
His stubby footfalls crunched leaves underfoot on the way in. He could feel a definite power when he lingered between the trunks. The latent anima in his body, never once put to use, was excited by the presence of concentrated runes. He circled any hazardous phenomena; regions of local space warped by the runes, walls of lightning, and falling acorns which occasionally grew to the size of cats on their descent. He kept an eye out for floating patches of dirt - a surefire method of identifying areas of runic instability.
Thank goodness Luthor was so kind as to indulge my childish wishes all those years ago, he recalled. I wouldn’t have learned any of this if he hadn’t sat me down and forced me to pore over those old textbooks from the Institution…
Luthor… there was a name he hadn’t thought of recently. A small hope for his survival blossomed in Prospero’s chest; he hadn’t witnessed the butler’s death, so there was every possibility that he was still alive. Luthor was as much a member of Prospero’s family as his father or mother - losing him would be another terrible wound.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
He seemed to know all about Orlok as well… I wonder if Luthor was a Vampire, also?
A break in the treeline caught his attention, broadening into a glade as he approached. Another tree idled on a hill there, not particularly large compared to the others but which carried a certain aura of importance to it. More Fulgurhorns populated the clearing, surprisingly tolerant of Prospero’s presence even as their young pranced and rolled around in the grass.
Everything in that meadow was so far from the world he knew. A domain of great peace and tranquility, where suffering seemed to be forbidden. But there he stood, lumpy and thick-skinned and rich with the scent of blood. It was not a world he deserved to wander, but its residents had welcomed him all the same. Under the central willow, a larger specimen of the Fulgurhorns rose its head from a deep slumber and released something crossed between a whistle and a piercing screech from its throat.
Prospero approached. The heartbeat of the woods was stronger there, pulsing along the soil. The tree was of some significance, he supposed. Perhaps the very first of its kind, or merely one created to sustain the runic potential of the forest. The Elk beneath was blind in both eyes, but found Prospero regardless. A symmetrical rune he did not recognise was branded across the creature’s brow. “Chaos,” it spoke the common tongue. “Formless beast.”
[Reptile] Form Deactivated
Not quite thinking his actions through, Prospero returned to his human form.
“You can speak,” he opened his mouth to continue, but lost the words. “...I, I’ve never met an animal who could speak before. I didn’t know they existed, even.”
“The Stargift has bestowed this knowledge upon us,” the Fulgurhorn replied. “Our solitude has endured for uncountable centuries. Nospolaris - you are the first to tread upon this lonely ground.”
“I was only trying to find a way out,” Prospero lifted a hand to scratch an itch on his nose now that he was able. “Am I not welcome here?”
“The nightkin are not known to ask such questions,” came the answer, not quite low or high but possessed of an entirely unique tone that Prospero couldn’t pin down. “Your behaviour is unexpected. Are we not targets for your insatiable appetite?”
“What makes you think that?”
“The dread Chaos of Dracule stirs in this one’s core,” The Elk shook its head, as if trying to dispel some kind of magic. “A dawn of darkness for Nospolaris. Fresh providence for the Worldsea’s blessed chosen. Dark, dark… darker than any other. The endless thirst in your soul… but you resist its influence with the will of your heart.”
“Yes…” Prospero nodded. “It’s quite difficult, but I’ve managed to keep it under control. Only, the things I’ve been forced to do… every step seems to draw me closer to it.”
The Elder paused. Prospero couldn’t tell what was going on inside its head; he had never learned to judge the expression of an elk. When it spoke again, its tone was somewhat reassured, but remained cautious. “...The heart must be tempered still, Nospolaris.”
“What is that word you keep using?” he asked. “Nospolaris.”
“Nospolaris,” it repeated. “Nos Polaris. Nüs Pularas. Nüpulare. Nightkin. Vampire.”
“I see,” Prospero nodded. “Do you know of the one named Orlok?”
“Nos Feratu,” the Elder answered. “Of the Twelve.”
“The, the Twelve?” Prospero stammered. “Don’t tell me there’s more of them!”
“-Bearer of the Eye,” it continued. “Nos Feratu of the Twelve Bearers.”
“My father would have loved you. He also liked to speak in riddles,” Prospero sighed, “I came here with the intent of gathering strength to one day face Orlok, but how can I honour my father’s wish for love when I’m forced to slaughter every beast I come across? I feel like a hypocrite.”
“The path of peace… is not easily walked.”
“Yes… I’ve heard something to that effect before,” he said. “I just want things to return to how they were… I want to see my father’s terrible, toothy grin again, and listen to all of his incoherent philosophising one more time. But…”
The Elder paused. “You cannot go back.”
“No,” he lowered his head. “I know.”
There was now something like pity in the old Elk’s glossy eyes. Sensing the disturbance in his judgement, the lesser Fulgurhorns gathered around the willow. It was only through direct comparison that Prospero could spot just how ancient the Elder was with its thin coat and sagging movements. However long its life had been, it was drawing to a close.
“Founderchild,” its eyes closed with such deliberation that Prospero could have sworn he heard the lids parting afterwards. “Your path is long and young, and your burden heavy. The Stars have guided you here, to this place, for one reason or another.”
Fulgurhorns encircled the Elder, raising their heads towards the depressed branches of the willow. A fine dust rose from the Elder’s fur, collecting on the branches like beads of morning dew. “Temper your heart,” it continued. “-But recall yourself. Drink deep of the Dreamers with sorrow, anger, loathing; seek not to suppress these weaknesses of men as your kin have laboured to, for their hearts are now closed to humility. But if the Stars permit… then open your soul to those wayward few, and recapture the love once lost to the Starsea…”
Prospero watched the Elder dissolve before his eyes in silence, allowing its essence to conjoin with the willow. The lesser Fulgurhorns bellowed songs of farewell and departure, gathered now to witness a sudden upheaval in their quiet paradise. The dew-soaked branches shook when the droplets coalesced into a bubble mesmerised with endless colours, hovering steadily within Prospero’s reach.
“Temper my heart,” he repeated. “I don’t know what that means. How can my heart grow stronger on this path? Am I not… someone who loves enough as I am?”
He moved his hand into the bubble and felt the essence within being absorbed. “You never asked for my name, but made an effort to understand my emotions in spite of this intrusion,” he continued. “I won’t forget this kindness you’ve offered me.”
[Essence Consumed] - Grade 29
GRADE DIFFERENCE DETECTED - At Least 15 Grades Higher Than Current Level
[Dangerous Foe Bonus] + 30
Elite Bonus + 5
[Hoofed Ruminant Proficiency] + 64
Tallying Experience…
[Hoofed Ruminant] (Grade 2) - 15/15 (+49)
--> [Hoofed Ruminant] (Grade 3) - 30/30 (+19)
[Hoofed Ruminant Proficiency] has reached [Grade 3]!
Aptitude Bonus - Unarmed +2 (Total Bonus - +3)
Passive Added - Agility
Description - While in [Hoofed Ruminant Form], your sprinting speed is greatly improved.
[Hoofed Ruminant Proficiency] has reached [Grade 4]!
Aptitude Bonus - Unarmed +3 (Total Bonus - +6)
Ability Added - Stunning Blow
Description - While in [Hoofed Ruminant Form], a clean strike to the head with your hind legs will disorient [Beast] creatures, lowering the accuracy of their attacks.
