Icarus Awakens

Tlara was flying. Well, technically her wyvern was doing the flying for her, but since Martialists went on about the things they killed when it was their sword doing the work it counted. She had good tools, and she’d even gotten another since the wyverns. One of the purposes of the hunting groups was to find replacements or upgrades for the surviving Beastmasters, in addition to the constant struggle to feed around a thousand people.

She was the strongest now. There was one with a higher wisdom or endurance, sure, but they didn’t have wyverns. She had two. Two. She ran a hand over the false draconid and felt a rush from the knowledge that she alone could do this. Anyone else who tried would probably die, if she wanted them to.

No, that was wrong. Tlara was careful not to let herself get too arrogant for her own sake. Not having the threat of more powerful mortals over her head could make her careless. Also, in the end, she wasn’t a bad person. Sure she hated Spiritualists and didn’t get along with a lot of people, but unlike what some people said her class wasn’t evil. The monsters were evil! Compare Tlara to the Tyrant who had effectively dominated most of the region and you’d get the point. Tlara nodded at her own thoughts and sagely vowed that if her class did give her something that let her dominate people, she’d release all of her monsters and give it up. She was just that good of a person.

Either way, Tlara would need to remember the importance of being sociable if they made it out of here. Tlara didn’t know if they would. She thought they were all dead when she’d heard Kob died, but now that idiot was passing around magical items like candy and Bards were practicing together in some secluded forest area. She didn’t know which one was more hilarious.

It was just too bad she couldn’t get anything out of it. Monsters didn’t respond to supportive Bardic music and conveniently Daniel couldn’t make her a set of pouches. He was probably lying to spite her, it’s what she would do. She’d like to throw a lightning bolt or two on the building he’d been making a hermit of himself in just for fun, but that’d just get her shot down. It was a good thing she wasn’t arrogant enough to try.

Her wyvern was still flying as instructed, but at that point its movement became unsteady. Tlara half sighed, half shouted as she realized it was hungry. A thinking creature might have better described this as starvation, but Tlara didn’t have the sentience-granting power that Daniel did. Instead, she just knew that when her tools started to perform poorly it was time for maintenance.

She peered out for the other active beast she had, the monster that was not named Spinner. The people she’d been with had tried to suggest that name, unaware of how Tlara did things. However it was still stuck in her head and she despised that. It made the monster more than it should be. Oh well, she’d just use it against the dragon. There was no way anything she pitted against that thing would survive. Murdon had been quite clear as to the role both tamed and dominated creatures would play in the fight to come. She’d have to use one of her wyverns too. It was unfair. Why did she have to put one of her best on the line?

Spi- her newest level three addition was a tracker. Not as good as a ringcat and not in the same way, but damn more durable. It was large enough to have redundant organs like hearts and could survive with a large part of it cut off. Healing Hands - Monsters wouldn’t regenerate limbs, but this silk shocker with no name was useful enough to warrant keeping it even if crippled.

While Tlara couldn’t command her tools at range, she could faintly sense them. With her wyvern, it didn’t take long to reach the large spider-like creature roving the plains. Someone else had dominated one like it but had been stupid enough to get it killed when some kind of fight broke out in the village. Oh well, it just made her beasts more unique.

This was important because it would be some time before anyone came back here. If no one else could capture one before they left, and there were only one other who could, Tlara would have a massive bargaining chip. Dominated monsters could be traded between Beastmasters. This was not an easy or inexpensive process, and you couldn’t buy your way into having monsters more powerful than yourself. That didn’t matter to the one holding all of the cards, who would typically be fronted those costs in addition to whatever was traded in kind. Of all the people here, it seemed Tlara was the only one who cared about how they’d live after the dragon. The fact that she’d just committed it to getting killed in the upcoming dragon fight didn’t even cross her mind.

Her wyverns would be worth more, of course, but fuck anyone who tried to buy those off of her. They were something else, a cut above. Everything associated with a draconic bloodline had an advantage over most monsters in their relative power scale, and she had two that were completely under her thumb. That even extended to mortals, though with Tlara that was more a matter of taste. Mind on the matter, she distracted herself the rest of the way down by trying to imagine the scaled Commander without his armor, or anything else. Tlara knew with certainty nothing would come of the idle thoughts, but she was in a good mood and allowed her mind to wander.

The silk shocker that was NOT named Spinner wasn’t exactly a spider, even though it had eight limbs and mandibles. The fur, tail, and articulated neck were obvious exceptions to the norm. It still spun silk, and therein lay its usefulness as a scout. Given time, the creature could spread thin strands across an area that could sense movement, even if they weren’t touched. This far out from the mountains there weren’t likely to be flying creatures that could avoid its webs.

“Find me a couple of level 1 monsters, doesn’t matter what kind,” Tlara ordered curtly. She could have done it with hand signs but didn’t always use that feature. There was something about giving verbal orders that she preferred. Maybe it was the ability to shout if she wanted to. Her beasts never complained or went against what she said, and on a bad day it was nice to vent on things that didn’t matter.

She was about to scream at the thing when it pointed with a leg and then tapped the ground three times. She’d had to teach it the signals she preferred, but only once. Three taps could mean anything, but if nothing proceeded it besides a direction it meant three kilometers. The hunting teams had been busy and must have completely eradicated everything closer. The village and its food stores being the way they were, even normal animals were being snatched up en masse to feed the hundreds of people waiting for the day they challenged the master of the mountain pass.

Tlara pointed in the same direction the silk shocker did and ordered her wyvern, “Go kill those level 1s, eat, and be back in an hour. Don’t be fucking late.” The wyvern obeyed. Anyone watching would have gotten the wrong impression about Beastmasters, of course. It wasn’t just that easy. What if the wyvern was attacked or got lost, would it know what to do and come back to her? No, it’d be useless unless Tlara had thought of those circumstances and given standing orders. Run if you’re attacked alone. Hit yourself in the face and then go back to the village if you’re lost. That one would have to be changed once they left the region, of course, and that was what was so damned annoying. Her beasts would follow the letter of her orders and nothing else. Inexperience had cost her beasts due to poor wording before.

Now what? Tlara looked around and clenched a fist in boredom. They were in the middle of nowhere! Just stupid grass and trees. It’d been stupid grass, trees, or rocks for most of the past month, the monotony only broken up by the occasional fight or an annoying upstart she wasn’t allowed to reprimand. How long had it been since she’d been able to take a bath? Probably since they’d been in Roost’s Peak, but she couldn’t remember.

Tlara looked at the silk shocker and put a hand up against one of the large spines that poked out from it. Not for the first time she wondered why almost every creature native to this region had them. There was a strong affinity for lightning here, evidenced by the storms that were a regular nuisance. And yet, it was the same material. Tlara had dominated enough of the lower species here to recognize that.

“Where’s the nearest level 3 monster?” she asked her minion beside her. It paused for just a second before it pointed to itself. “Oh, you fucking- where’s the nearest one I don’t control? Or anyone else?” She glared at it with about 70% intensity as it paused again, then formed an ‘X’ with its two upper limbs. “Fuck, so much for the monsters around here getting worse.”

Not-Spinner played an essential role for Tlara in finding other monsters to dominate. Other mortals hoping to advance could stumble around until they found anything to fight, but she was after specific monsters to literally flesh out her roster. It was why she’d still had a level 1 ringcat when she was level 2. The adult variant had sharper senses than the alpha, which dulled ever so slightly as the species leveled up. This useless mass should have made things convenient. A little investment of time up front and she could passively monitor a large sweep of land for potential targets.

Only the damned thing wasn’t working! Tlara considered some percussive maintenance before shaking her head. She wouldn’t be able to do anything besides brush against the monster with her fists, and what was the point of hitting her tool if it didn’t hurt it when she did? Tlara paced and marveled at how dull walking was compared to flying. She’d been in the air more often than on the ground ever since the Tyrant died. It spoke to something she couldn’t quite describe, a faded memory passing through time to reach her. Tlara would have normally rebelled against any kind of compulsion, ancestral or not, but this one was special. Besides, she had two wyverns. What was she going to do if not ride them?

40 minutes after she’d sent her hungry wyvern hunting, Tlara frowned as she spotted it in the distance approaching quickly. It could manage the journey there and back in half the time she’d given, give or take how the targets were moving, but the feeding itself should have taken longer. Wait, was it bleeding? “Oh, fuck.” As it got closer, she saw it was wounded. Not from natural weapons, but arrows.

Tlara wanted to scream at both her monsters for their stupidity, but even she realized she hadn’t specified to omit monsters owned by other mortals with her first request. This would be trouble, but Tlara was a level three Beastmaster, and in this current context that gave her a lot more authority than it normally would. If people wanted her wyvern dead in retribution, assuming it had done its job and killed its prey, then good luck to them.

The skyshock wyvern dissolved into dust which was absorbed into a pouch on her waist. There, problem solved. They could complain all they liked, but they couldn’t touch her property and they wouldn’t attack her. Probably, Tlara added with a frown. Her other active beast was alerting her to the forces approaching by ground. Still minutes out, but moving fast. Tlara let out another half-scream, half-sigh. This was going to be annoying, she already knew it.