Vraxious- Hopes End
Vrax’s eyelids fluttered in confusion; something was deeply wrong. He felt like he had been run over by a herd of Mynochs. He shifted slightly; it was blindingly bright, and his body was halfway in something uncomfortable that was digging into the side of his face. He kept still and tried to gauge his surroundings. The snarl of some massive beast could be heard mere feet from him. His eyes finally adjusted, and he could see what he was haphazardly stuffed in. A bright pink shrub greeted his eyes. In his hand was a bottle of fine vintner wine. Oh gods, not again…
Vrax pulled himself out of Mr. Abernathy's prized hedgerow. Which somehow magically in the night had been turned a godawful spotted pink. The last thing I remember is me and Torvald leaving the tavern... Something about the town needing more color to it, oh shit…. How much did we drink last night? Slightly farther down the hedge row, Torvald’s lower half stuck out from inside the bush. The loudest rumbling snores echoed in Vrax's hungover mind. His feet clinked against a small tower of bottles at his feet as he went to extract Torvald. He made it halfway before he had to stumble to the side and retch a half dozen times into the newly decorated hedges.
He kicked Torvald in the rear to wake him. The half-alive slab of muscle roared and burst from the shrub in a shower of small branches like a goddamned bear, stumbling back, fists raised up, ready to fight. His bleary head tracked left then right, settling on Vrax and slowly absorbing the current situation. “HaHA, that was a fun one! Ughh…” He stopped mid-shout to hold his head with a wince. “Vrax, do you still have any of the butt juice plants that fix hangovers?”
Vrax began shuffling towards the chapel, opting to leave the shrub pink for now; it was pretty funny after all, and he was pretty sure if he tried to use any skills, the retching would begin again. “It's bottajub root, not butt juice, you simpleton, and yes, come on, after last time, I always have at least four on standby.”
On the painful walk back, Vrax cringed at the random new decorations throughout town: a pear tree with deep purple bark, bush after bright pink bush. Ulrich’s prized onyx oak that stood proud in his yard was a noticeably pure white. Finally, just before the chapel, an entire flowerbed with flowers now a rainbow of clashing colors that subtly shifted. How did I even do that one? That’s actually awesome. Apparently I experimented last night; based on the sheer amount I got done, it seems like just changing mundane plants’ colors is on the low end of mana cost, thankfully.
Vrax retrieved two purplish vials from his room, chugging one himself, eyes watering at the herby spice of the Bottajub root potion. He handed the other to Torvald. “So we’re leaving today…?” Vrax asked, trying to rub his eyes out of his skull.
Torvold downed his potion with a shrug and a displeased face. “ If you can get your shit together before nightfall, we could certainly get started,” Torvald jabbed. “I would really like to see how high I can get my strength before I hit the first bottleneck, and to do that, I need levels...lots of levels.”
Vrax poured his canteen over his head, heedless of the water he spilled on the floor. “I’ll get packed, just have to check out a ring I found out in the woods with Ulric. And fix his tree so he doesn’t burn me alive in my sleep.” Vrax waved goodbye to Torvald and began packing his big traveling bag. He planned to spend the trip to the dungeon upgrading his arsenal. Also, he needed to find a [Mandragora] that would probably be perfect for a more mobile combat aid, assuming he could get it to not try and eat him. He really wanted to try and modify a Devourer too, but it was probably going to be a few more levels before that was feasible.
Vrax looked around the terrarium that was his room. Shelves stacked with glass cases, half of them had something moving inside. Almost every inch of his ceiling trailed down to a potted plant. Most of which had tendril, hand, or tongue-like appendages that lazily traced after him as he shuffled below. He gathered all the necessary supplies and clothes for an extended trip. Then he looked around at what he had on hand that would work best to use [Adapt Life] on. He wanted to hit the first floor of the dungeon as overprepared as possible. He settled on one more lurker mushroom he had carefully stuffed into a chest. Taking a few moments to adapt it like he had the other two. He darn near bottomed out his mana, growing the thorns long and hooked across the tendril along with making it absolutely laden with them. With a thought he plucked it from its secure storage box and added it to his garden.
[Stigmata Garden 3/4]
[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
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[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
All three of them now were at least less twitchy towards him; Torvald would have to be careful around them, though. Vrax had also changed the mushroom cap color to a vibrant blue just because he thought it looked better than the dirty-looking flesh they had before. The changes had made them rather imposing; they had curved red nightmare fangs coating every inch of the grabbing tendril, when before they had sharp but stubby thorns every hand span. They would certainly do to at least lock down and maim things around his level.
Vrax went from glass case to glass case trying to decide what else he could arm himself with. He stopped short, looking back to a double-sealed case in the top corner of his room: a single dandelion-like flower with icy maroon tips to the individual feathery seeds. Its small, parachuted seeds trembled slightly without any wind. Vrax nodded to himself and finished his mundane preparations, letting his mana replenish.
Vrax summoned his armor and very, very carefully reached to open the outer glass case. He flicked the second gate-like door open and reached in. The case shook slightly too much as a single seed pod unfurled into a haunting, spider-like visage, almost invisibly small, and floated slowly towards his hand. Vrax activated smite, and the seed pod simply melted on touching his hand. With a shaky breath, Vrax lightly touched the base of the [Vein Diver Dandelion]; if he fucked this up, he knew he was in for a rough few days.
He poured all of his intent into the seeds, staying more firmly put, growing stronger, burrowing deeper. His mana drained as the plant actually grew slightly, the seeds becoming noticeably larger and more moored to the floret that held them. Vrax waited long enough to make sure he had enough mana for another smite or, worst case, to use his stigmata garden if things really went tits up; he didn’t know how much scarier these would be this much bigger.
He tapped a single seed, and it released, drifting aimlessly for a moment before guiding itself somehow towards his hand. Its eight legs are unfurled, small razor-like appendages barely visible even with it being almost double its natural size. It landed on his hand and moved across his armor in a bizarre mix of drifting leaps and tumbles. All the way up to his unarmored face. It brushed his cheek without diving into his skin to set up shop. Vrax smote the individual seed with a heaving sigh of relief and added the plant to his garden.
[Stigmata Garden 4/4]
[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
[Adapted Lurker Mushroom]
[Adapted Vein Diver Dandelion]
Vrax would need to change the names for those later; he knew he could with just an effort of will; it was his soul after all, but he needed some better names first. He said goodbye to William, who had been caught up on all the plans the night before. And fully geared for a journey, he stepped into the midday sun. Vrax winced a bit at the cruelty of the sun; the hangover was mostly banished but not entirely. He trudged towards Ulric's shop, pointedly ignoring the pink foliage.
Vrax walked up into Ulric’s yard, straight up to the tree he had artistically redesigned the night before, and laid a hand on it. He was midway through changing it back to its glossy black when he saw Ulric’s wrathful, beady eyes staring at him through the window. Vrax finished returning the tree to its natural state and walked up to the door that went to Ulric’s store. Ulric had the closest thing in town to a magic item shop and lived upstairs. He was a rare harvesting class [Magebound Scavenger]. And the man's main purpose in life seemed to be finding dead people's magic goodies and reselling them for disgusting profit margins. Vrax had sold him a few odds and ends over the years, but he had never bought anything here. Ulric’s prices were frankly insane and mainly meant for adventurers who desperately needed something before they marched to their deaths in the forest.
The inside of the store was a pristine square with individual items behind locked glass cases with protective enchantments humming over the glass. In sharp contrast, the halfling proprietor rushed out in a disheveled long coat and a beard that frantically stuck sideways. His eyes bounced around his shop as if to make sure nothing had been stolen in the seconds that Vrax had been there.
“You fixed the tree?” he asked accusatorially.
Vrax adopted his dealing-with-people persona. “Of course, my favorite shopkeep! I’m terribly sorry about that; it was simply a lapse in judgment brought about by a night of revelry. It’s back to its pristine state!”
“Hmmmmm…what are you here to buy?” The twitchy halfling gestured towards his glass cases. “ Heard you got a class. Need a weapon or potions? How about some armor?”
“Actually, I'm here to offer you something, Ulric,” he twirled the ring out from a pouch on his side.
Ulric practically pounced on it, mana flaring as he activated an appraising skill that told him the details of magic items. Vrax relinquished his grip to the halfling’s grabby hands. Ulric was always like this; he was an odd if very useful member of the town. And despite his greedmongering and lowballing, he was always honest, at least about what an item did. He slowly inspected it with a monocle he pulled from under his shirt. “Hmm..yess..yess...bah..well that is a nice touch...,” he mumbled to himself as if Vrax had left for an awkwardly long time. “magic distress beacon, channel mana in, and it shoots a very bright illusion that makes a godawful sound. It also has a slight regeneration talent impressed into it. The regeneration talent is more valuable than the other effect. Three gold.” He clutched it farther away from Vrax possessively.
Vrax walked over closer to him. “Ulric, my friend.” He plucked the ring from the halfling’s hands with some effort. “We both know regeneration effects start at just north of ten gold, and an item with multiple effects is worth far more.”
Ulric gave Vrax an ugly frown. “Four gold best offer.” His eyes looked at Vrax pleadingly.
At that price, Vrax would rather just wear it. The regeneration talent would probably slow his mana regeneration, but not by much, he imagined. If it didn’t work for him, he could just sell it in the city for closer to ten gold, a rather considerable sum. “Have a good day, Ulric thanks for the help!”
“Bah,” Ulric hissed at him, disappointed as Vrax made his way back out to the street. It was midday still, and Torvald was visible, towering next to the fountain in the town square. Vrax adjusted his pack on his shoulders and made sure both his mundane and Spriggan spears were securely tied within easy reach. Time to get going.