Vraxious- Kings Road
Vrax smiled wickedly into the campfire. He held the daisy between his hands, the fire dancing off his eyes, the perfect likeness to many a mad mage as he focused on his creation. Tovald slumbered loudly next to him, unaware of the abomination Vrax had wrought during his watch.
The daisy, being as basic and weak a creature as he had tried to adapt so far, took an insignificant amount of mana for the first changes. He had lengthened and thickened the roots into four leg-like appendages. Then he had taken the few leaves, arranging them around the back of the stem like a lion's mane. Growing them dramatically larger. Then he started in on the flower itself. It now had an opening in the center, a yawning void of a maw with black, needle-like teeth in a perfect circle leading all the way down the inside of the stem. The final touch for now was the dark green tendrils; four of them rose from the back of the thickened stem, black fangs that matched the maw dotting the surface. He still had plenty of mana to work with, everything so far being small-scale and cosmetic.
However, it was still a daisy; it stood about six inches tall with the size increases and just kind of flopped there…menacingly unmoving. How do I get it to actually, well, be useful? I could try and make it carnivorous, but that would be a pretty drastic change to its nature. Making it attracted to warmth might be easier since it normally feeds off the sun.
Vrax impressed upon it the desire for warmth and the need for heat. It lazily tilted slightly more towards his hands; nothing much else happened. Of course, idiot, it doesn’t have any real way to move yet. Vrax luckily had, in his years of gathering dangerous flora, seen what the inside of many moving plants looked like. He tried his best to emulate it, changing the internal structures to have facsimiles of muscles and sacks that could rise and fall to propel it forward. It took him almost an hour, and that did take a massive amount of mana. As soon as he finished adapting the daisy, it moved shockingly fast.
The daisy took a stumbling step, almost like it was learning to walk for a moment, and then hurled itself from Vrax's hand into the warmth of the nearby fire. Vrax stared in open-mouthed horror as the last three hours of his life began sizzling. He quickly snatched it up, and it writhed in his grasp, trying to throw itself into the fire once again. Vrax held on as best he could, his hand getting deep gouges and cuts from the bladed tendrils he had thought were a good idea. He poured the little bit of mana he still had into reversing its need for warmth, and it went mostly slack in his hands. Just a gentle, uncomfortable, aimless wandering of its limbs.
Torvald was sitting up, groggily woken by the commotion. “What the hell’s going on?” He looked around with thick, bleary eyes.
Vrax stuffed the daisy in his pocket. “Nothing, just sneezed real hard…” Torvald just grunted in response, passing back out before his head even hit his pillow again.
Vrax frowned at the slightly singed daisy, placing it on the ground where it just sort of undulated without purpose. How the hell can I get you to go where I want? Wait….
Vrax focused, and a single black eye bloomed just above the mouth. It was a featureless orb, but he just needed it to add a bit more particularity to what the daisy ran towards. It was the absolute limit of what he could manage with his current capability, but by the time the sun rose, Vrax was fairly certain he had gotten it to be attracted to motion, and he had managed to make it just a little bit bigger.Torvald slowly opened his eyes, freezing in place for a moment at the daisy eerily shifting inches from his face. Its orb locked onto him, and it shifted slightly closer. Torvald leapt back in a tangle of limbs, trying to scoot away from it as it scuttled towards him. “The fuck, help Vrax, what did you do!?”
Vrax was doubled over laughing so damn hard he thought he was going to hurt himself as Torvald desperately leapt over the fire and ran back and forth around the camp, the daisy nearly catching him several times. In the end, Torvald grabbed it in a big, meaty fist, stuffing it into a jar, his physical defenses enough that he only got a few scrapes.
“Torvald the mighty! Torvald the slayer of daisies!” Vrax chortled out through tears.
Torvald looked at him with wild eyes. “I was joking about the man killing Daisy! I didn’t really think that would be a thing!” He screwed the lid on the daisy’s jar with more force than necessary.
Vrax began another jibe but was interrupted by a system notification.
[Achievement Earned]
[Elevation Of The Average]
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Change a species of plant enough that the system designates it as an essence bound new species. This achievement can only be received once. Reward new talent.
[Talent]
[I Am Your Maker, And You Will Hunger]
Adapted plants can be more easily imprinted with predatory instincts. And adaptations that facilitate them sustaining themselves this way are far more efficient.
Vrax trailed off with a slack jaw. He rushed towards Torvald and practically ripped the jar from his hands. Identifying whatever the hell he had just made [Infant Maneater Daisy Tier-1] (lvl1). “Oh, fuck, Torvald. I just got an achievement for making this thing...also, apparently, I made a new species.”
Torvald's brows drew tight in concern for a moment. “It just looks scary, right? It’s still a daisy, after all,” he asked hopefully.
“Maneater daisy, don’t think it’s too friendly anymore,” he answered while slowly spinning the jar to look at the daisy within. It was acting differently after the talent had been granted to him, looking around with more fluid motions and a predatory focus every time Torvald moved.
“I still think I should get a Mandragora once we get some more gold, but this lil guy is going to be going with us.” Vrax fondly patted the jar. “I bet I can make him into something special, and it seems the system almost wants me to.”
“Congrats on the new talent, by the way! Are you sure you aren’t a druid?” Torvald asked in not-so-genuine curiosity.
“Oh shut the fuck up,” Vrax shot back, pocketing the daisy and breaking down camp for the last stretch of their journey.
By midday the shape of Hopes Path loomed below them. the road gently curved downward for several leagues before crossing a rushing river with a solidly built log bridge, easily wide enough for even the largest merchant carts to cross comfortably. The city dominated a man-made clearing punctuated by four stalwart watchtowers, set slightly outside of the tall stone walls but connected with retractable metal bridges, allowing for them to be cut off from the walls during a siege. The walls themselves were dotted with ballista every hundred strides for a total of ten around the span of the city. Beyond the towering walls, the city was divided into three distinct sections by shorter interior hedgerows that doubled as both natural barriers and weapons for several of the powerful druids in the city guard.
The eastern section of the city was an electric mix of colorfully painted one- and two-story homes built with the light red wood from the nearby forest. Most of the building were also tastefully decorated in purple and golden climbing vines, the colors of the city crest. A few much larger structures were evenly spaced throughout the commons quarters; these were the many inns and taverns that catered to the adventurer crowds.
Even from this far away, Vrax could see the commons practically buzzing with activity. The biggest cluster of crowds was around the only four-story structure, a totally unpainted shrine to practicality, the adventurers' guild. The only true hint to how important the building is to the untrained eye was the imposing stature of it and the five-stride-tall shimmering sending crystal that looked like a hunk of frozen ice hovering meaningfully on the reinforced balcony of the top floor.
The centermost section of the town was a rainbow of fluttering cloth. Stalls and shops of all sizes all doing their best to draw your eye. The mercantile quarter. Silken streamers traced so high in the air, aided by wind and illusion magic, that even the watchtowers bowed to them. Occasionally a house-sized mirage would appear in the air, announcing a shop having a sale or the restocking of in-demand goods. That would be less combat-inclined mages with talents for image projection plying their trade. In stark contrast to all of the look-at-me energy on display, a circular building made of imported metals sat cold and immutable in the dead center of the markets. That was the beast auction house; Vrax was especially looking forward to going there.
Out on the fringes, like they were people would bring some truly fantastical and lethal creatures to this particular market. It wasn’t unheard of for things from the Forsaken Lands to be sold there. Years ago, when Vrax had gone with William to the markets, he had snuck off to watch an auction. He still remembered the cries of shock and horror as the announcer unveiled a living glimmer frozen under the gazes of the multitudes and bound by several mages to stop it from unleashing its skills upon the crowd.
The final district had even stone streets and uniformly designed stone buildings rising from a single story on the edges to three stories tall in the center. This was Old Town. The original town encompassed this area before the dungeon caused the region to blossom. This district was an odd duck, a mix of old money and bureaucracy along with abject poverty and generational businesses. Here is where you could find a noble to fund an expedition into the wilds or a blacksmith who was taught by his grandfather, who was taught by his grandfather, the ways of the hammer. It was also the place where if you went down the wrong alley, someone might try and stab you for a loaf of bread.
Vrax and Torvald picked up their pace. It was midday, and if they got to town soon, they might be lucky enough to finish registration at the guild and make it to the dungeon just outside of town. If they did that, they could be delving into their very first dungeon as early as sunrise tomorrow morning, reaping essence and making fortunes. Or at least that's what Torvald reasoned as they bickered back and forth about if they should stay in an inn or not. Vrax wanted to take another luxurious evening in a bed and then make their way to the dungeon in the morning. They ended up agreeing to go to the guild first and then decide on the day's agenda.
The trip to the guild from the gates was a short one. They wound through slightly muddy streets and past more inns than Vrax could count, but they finally found themselves on the steps of the guild hall. A very noticeable black sign with golden letters practically beckoned them inside. Vrax obliged and stepped through the doors with Torvald to truly begin his career as an adventurer