Dawn broke over the city. Today was the day they would finally depart the city on the caravan and almost certainly run into trouble.
But none of that mattered right to Geoffrey right now, as he posed on the top of the roof in Hunting Bear Stance, working through his forms. Deep down inside, Geoffrey knew that the practice wasn’t necessary. He still retained enough of Jeff’s old memories to understand the game rules, and the fact that his different stances were a class feature that he would never forget – or improve upon – regardless of how much he practiced them.
Nonetheless, it was a daily ritual that Geoffrey the polar bear relished, both as something that he just outright enjoyed, and as a way to focus his mind and keep loose in case he needed to defend the Prince.
He moved into the first form. Claws Break Ice-he thrust his paws forward, then circled them into Threading The Sinew, then hopped lightly on his feet, jabbing invisible opponents with Hare On Snowy Tundra.
His next moves assumed his opponents were armored. Scooping The Seal had him abruptly bring his claw into an uppercut followed by Fox Frolics On The Snowbank as he danced around his invisible opponents’ strikes and herded them into Batters Down The Prey, a series of ferocious, sweeping slashes.
Back when he was a cub, Geoffrey recalled his Elder teaching him the moves. Unarmed combat was natural for his village – resources were scarce in this world’s frozen wastes and conflict, both with wild animals and other tribes, was common.
Honing their bodies for combat was so important, that the movements had been incorporated into their everyday lives. Even tasks as mundane as picking up a basket of fish involved actions that would look like an ornate martial movement to an outside observer.
Then, of course, there was specific martial training. Geoffrey remembered sitting in a cold hut while the Chief had told him not to think of his opponent’s weapons as an enemy, but instead as a secret lover. They think she is theirs, but secretly she is yours.
Geoffrey had not understood why the Chief kept referring to the lover as ‘she’. He had eyes only for the burly males of his tribe. It was only later, to his shame, that he realized he was an aberration. Then, despite his prowess in combat and hunting and his intelligence, he would be exiled. All it had taken was a single bad year for the other members of the tribe to begin whispering that this was a punishment from Orso, God of the Sea, for Geoffrey’s perceived transgressions.
Geoffrey thought back to when the Chief had tried to convince him that Orso would not punish the entire tribe over an issue so trivial. But while the Chief has a strong body, he’d always had a weak, gentle soul, and his words weren’t enough. Geoffrey knew that Orso was not a kind a god, and he knew that a bear that could not sow his seed was an offense that Orso could not tolerate. Not wanting to bring any more ruin to his village, Geoffrey had set out – to find a new land and new gods.
Jeff shook his head, pushing the thoughts away.
That was just some stupid bear’s life, not his. He…couldn’t remember much from his own past, but he was certainly open about his sexuality. Geoffrey’s life was tragic, he wasn’t going to deny it, but what was the bear thinking? Of course a tribe that practiced subsistence living would kick homosexuals out.
At least they didn’t do to Geoffrey what they did to the elderly or infirm.
The Ice Walk.
Jeff shivered, trying to push away those memories as well. Geoffrey’s tribe reminded him strongly of Spartan and Inuit cultures combined. Pure survival of the fittest and a rejection of anything that threatened to disrupt the rhythms of their lives.
He took a breath and finished his shadow boxing.
Claws Part The Blubber-he slashed with his fist in a downward motion, following it into The Snowstorm Rages-crossing and parrying invisible blades with the scarred edges of his bone-hard fists. He followed with Sonwflakes On The Wind-jabbing three times, pushing his invisible opponents back, giving him space for finishing with Aurora Dances On The Horizon-a complex series of strikes that ended with him on one knee, claws thrust upward into the final opponent, disemboweling him.
He panted, sweat slicking his fur, making it look yellowish in the sun.
The polar bear caught his breath and did cool-down stretches, making a note of adding bleach to his shampoo in order to keep his coat white. Technically, his hair was translucent, but discolorations were still unacceptable. He’d dye his fur white if needed.
Jeff was a little weirded out at how much pride the bear took in his looks and form. He was used to just eating whatever he wanted. But the longer he stayed on Gregory’s strict diet of fish and greens, the less sweets seemed to matter to him. Seawood was still good, at least.
What he really missed was a good roast of seal.
The bear salivated at the fattened meat dripping and sizzling onto the hot stones of the fire. Seal and maybe whale as well. So juicy and delightful. His ears twitched as the memory of one feast-
Jeff shook his head, stamping out the intruding thoughts. No! He’d never eaten any of that. That was all Geoffrey memories and if he thought too much about them, he’d lose himself completely. Then he’d be as pathetic as Gregory.
Geoffrey took another look at the people below and went back to his room. It was adjoining to Gregory’s so the bear manservant could attend to him when necessary, which wouldn’t be for at least another hour given what time the the little shit normally got up at. Geoffrey carefully packed his things and brought them downstairs, making sure they were secured to the carriage, taking special care to strap in the skunk’s soul jar.
It tempted him.
Every time he quaffed it, felt that intelligence and dominance, he wanted it all. He almost didn’t mind losing himself to the skunk. Almost. Geoffrey the bear might not be intelligent, but he understood that Finn almost certainly had planned on there being consequences for his continued use of the essence like this.
He’d even considered throwing it out, but simply couldn’t do it. It was like an addiction. The worst part, he supposed, were the dreams. Not his own dreams, or silly Geoffrey’s fishing dreams, but the skunk’s.
Who would have thought such a cute little skunk would be such a huge pervert? He loved turning guys into barely-legal twinks and then fucking their virgin holes. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing to Charlie and Gregory every night for the last two nights. Each night, he slipped some magic cologne on, and the burly wolf and royal mink became inexperienced twinky virgins in need of a daddy to claim their holes.
Hell, that was bad, but he’d also done way worse to thieves and vagabonds. Turning people into assholes or cocks and fucking them. Well, not him. He hadn’t done anything like that in the two days he’d had the jar. These were memories of things that Nicolas had done in the past. And that was the other thing that scared him - Nicolas was blurring into him. Things the skunk had done were becoming things Geoffrey had done. And he liked it.
He walked down the stairs to the bathroom for a hot bath and a scrub before the journey.
=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=--=
Gregory was sitting in his room, halfway dressed and contemplating the eagle’s soul jar.
Unlike Geoffrey, however, the mink wasn’t interested in becoming the eagle. Not, like, taking over his life. What Prince would do such a thing? Not one worthy of sitting on the throne, that’s for sure!
Instead, he was interested in the one thing Ailin the eagle could do that Gregory the mink could not: Fly.
He could also detect and analyze magic and such but who cares about that, they had Veles now. But the ability to fly was something he’d always dreamed of. Or, rather, for as long as Gregory had dreamed. This body…Greg…likely had other dreams. But he was a Prince now! Way better than stupid Greg had been.
There was a thump on the roof that brought a smile to Gregory’s lips.
Geoffrey was clearly working out upstairs. What a wild lover! These last two nights had been hazy, but he distinctly remembered having the best sex of his life. Honestly, both Greg the human and Gregory the Prince had only fooled around a bit in their previous lives. But now the sex was hot and heavy.
What the hell was he going to do when he regained his throne?
He couldn’t very well marry a man. The line was Patrilineal. So that meant Geoffrey would need to…have a vagina at some point? Just long enough to have his kits or cubs or whatever. Or perhaps he could entertain the idea of a show marriage to one of the kingdom’s nobles while he kept Geoffrey as a concubine? Gregory wasn’t entirely confident he could get hard for a woman, but he supposed sex was sex. And who knows, if his wife was in on it, maybe she would let Geoffrey help out in the process.
The Prince practiced his sword swings.
While he felt a little rusty after having been on the run, it wouldn’t matter. The moves felt natural to him, and he knew that once he was in the middle of battle he would be able to adjust.
“Or die,” he supposed.
The Prince flickered through a few of his own sword movements. They were more elegant that what Geoffrey was doing on the roof. Gregory had progressed beyond katas. There was only the blade.
A few more movements later, quick and fast, he sheathed his sword and shrugged on his armor.
Normally, he’d have Geoffrey pack his things, but honestly he’d been packed for the last week. Slumming around in only three outfits would have been scandalous back at court, but made things easier when traveling. If he needed to (and he’d NEVER tell Geoffrey this), he’d dump most of his wardrobe. Honestly, it was at least five years out of season, so he’d end up buying new clothes once he won the throne anyways.
He left his luggage sitting in the middle of the room for Geoffrey and went downstairs for some breakfast. Gregory thought the fat pig who ran the place rather disgusting, but apparently he’d been quite the catch 20 years ago. Plus, he made an incredibly tasty meal called Eggs Benedict, so Gregory forgave him for being fat and ugly.
The restaurant was busy even in the morning. Not much activity at the bar, of course. Gregory seated himself at one of the tables and waited. The fat pig waddled out with his breakfast.
“Here you guy, my liege,” Fergus smiled happily, displaying blunt tusks.
“I haven’t even ordered!” Gregory protested.
“Aye, but I know what ya like,” the hog winked at him, almost making the Prince’s stomach turn.
“Thanks Fergus,” Gregory said, swallowing back his disgust.
“And good luck with you and yours on your journey,” Fergus whispered. “But you come back here when you’ve got your throne!”
“Thanks and will do.” Gregory said impatiently, hoping the pig would go away.
“Well go on, eat!” The pig’s eyes were bright and is voice cheery.
With a sigh, the mink began eating. The hog insisted on talking the entire meal. It was infuriating. No wonder Veles was so desperate to leave!
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=
Veles, the arctic fox wizard, was sitting on his bed intent on the spellbook he’d copied from Glitz
It was incredible! The stag had been an expert-nay, a master-at transmutation. Of course, his specialty had been with living beings and the alteration of the very fabric of their beings, but not much beyond that. Still, this in-depth exploration of polymorph was no joke.
As far as the rest of the spells, Veles found them to be utilitarian or useful in the creation of magic items. The stag had been a 7th level spellcaster. Incredibly powerful and accomplished. He marveled at the thought that he might be one of many such high-level casters employed by the Order.
Or, Veles realized, maybe he was laying low in this town and was the highest level cast in the Order. Hell, maybe even the Order didn’t realize what Glitz could do.
Veles didn’t know and couldn’t even begin to guess. He supposed if he quaffed the stag’s memories he’d find out but that was almost certainly a trap. Glitz had a strong will and no doubt the arctic fox would find himself the loser of possession for his own body.
Frankly, it was surprising that Charlie had even managed to drain Glitz in the first place. Then again, Veles got the sense that Charlie’s Order has a very strong set of nigh unbreakable rules. Its possible that Glitz never even considered the fact that a low level member of the Order would betray it, and he let his guard down. Or maybe, knowing that he was in his Order’s safe house, he just never put his guard up to begin with.
Turning back to the task at hand, Veles thought about how the spells weren’t the only thing he’d stolen. He’d also taken Glitz’ ability to craft magic arms and armor and his skills in such. All he needed were the rare materials any magic item needed to function. Which is to say, monster parts. Easier said than done when it came to obtaining those monster parts.
He REALLY wanted to try out some of these spells. UGH! The power at his fingertips… but he didn’t dare do it right now. Not when he was in his town with his sugar daddy. Veles refused to shit where he ate as a rule.
No, he could wait until they were on the caravan. He was almost certain they’d be attacked. ‘Ambushed’, he supposed, though knowing he would be ambushed made it less of an ambush, didn’t it? Oh, those bandits wouldn’t know what hit them! Actually, no, they definitely would… for a few seconds or so, at least.
Veles found himself cackling under his breath and quickly stifled it.
He shouldn’t find this all so fun. But didn’t the bandits deserve it, anyways? They were technically kill on sight according to the laws of the kingdom, so he didn’t have to show them any mercy. Actually, banditry was a hanging offense in just about every country, now that he thought of it.
Yeah, he was totally justified.
Plus, the others would… shit!
His party members were going to completely eviscerate any low-level bandits who came their way. Forget polymorphing them into anything, they were going to be minced giblets probably before he could even cast a spell. Oh, and the other guards on the caravan were likely to get a few kills too.
Veles sighed.
Oh well. He’d get to do at least one person dirty. A really bad one. They were going to hate what one spell in particular could do. It was such a grotesque spell and yet…oddly elegant.
He smelled bacon frying downstairs and his stomach growled. The arctic fox sighed, stretched, and shrugged his robes on. It was about time to eat anyways.
Veles trotted downstairs to eat.
-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Charlie was… sleeping.
He’d worked damn hard all week coming up with plans. After he’d dealt with Glitz, he used the training room again last night. As far as he was concerned, he was prepared enough. Actually, he was kinda afraid they were over leveled. If the bandits weren’t challenging enough, what else could Finn throw at them?
Of course, he ended up waking at the same time everyone went downstairs. The smell of coffee always made him alert. That was the other thing he was surprised about. Never expected coffee beans in a fantasy world, just tea. And yet, Veles had managed to cultivate them.
Made sense, since he was a wizard.
He performed his morning ablutions, asshole twitching unpleasantly the whole time. The twitching put pressure on his prostate, which convulsed. It was such a strange thing, forcing him to have erections at the strangest times. Maybe he had colon cancer? Oh, that would suck, but…magic could cure him of that, right?
It dawned on Charlie that a lot of things that would be a serious or otherwise terminal illness in the real world weren’t particularly threatening when you have a kobold bard to cast lesser restoration on you. No, the only thing he had to be concerned about was some sort of fantasy STD that resisted dispel mechanics. A magical disease that Finn was using as a plot point might be nigh impossible to cure. And the best he could do right now was to hope that whatever was going on with his asshole, it wasn’t that.
Charlie looked around for anything he hadn’t packed. There was that book on Paranor. Place was supposedly packed with magic items. Extremely dangerous, because of course the ancient city destroyed by the gods in one night would be. But he had a feeling it would be worth the risk.
He looked around, but couldn’t find his notes anywhere. Had he packed them without noticing it? Or…he sighed. Someone had borrowed them. Was it the Prince, curious about his old life? Geoffrey, desperately trying to recall his old self? Veles…hmm, no, he seemed preoccupied with that spellbook. Or…Palseks?
Well, if it was the kobold, more power to her. He hated the fact that the Prince wasn’t interested in signing her paperwork. Gregory hadn’t said he wasn’t going to free her, but merely saying someone was free was not enough to free a slave. He needed to sign documents stating she was no longer a slave, and though Charlie had provided them to the Prince, he never got them back.
Cleaning himself off, he went downstairs for breakfast with the rest of the party.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Palseks was not having the worst time of her life.
She had mostly been forgotten by everyone. Thanks to that, she’d snagged the dragonborn soul jar without anyone knowing. Not that she could drink it without giving the game away, but she was planning on getting tailored at the next Order outpost they went to. She had the soul, she just needed a Coin.
But how would she get her hands on a Coin?
Unlike the others, she had taken the time to actually read the book on Paranor that Veles had brought back with him. And she’d also read what little Jeff had remembered in his horrible hand-written notes. She had a lot of time on her scaly hands, after all.
Normally, as a slave, she’d never be able to read Common. But she wasn’t JUST a slave. She was a Bard and they were damn good at picking up languages. Honestly, they were a bit broken, in her opinion.
Oh, shit, that was why she hadn’t picked Dragonborn!
Palseks almost smacked herself in the forehead. Kobolds had a bonus to Charisma. It was innate. Bards based their casting stat off of Charisma. Oh well, she could always adjust her statline if Trimming worked the way she had read.
She hadn’t been lying to anyone when she told the party she didn’t want Rakser or her to become Dragonborn. Palseks wanted them BOTH to become Dragonborn. That was her goal.
Setting down the souljar, she clutched a stack of fancy looking paperwork in her claws. It was dozens upon dozens of pages, all of which signified that, yes, Gregory was her owner. Yes, Gregory understood that she had no rights. Yes, Gregory understood that she had monetary value. And finally, Yes, Gregory understood that he was freeing her.
Then there were the pages for her to sign – a similar litany of legalese informing her that just because she was no longer Gregory’s slave didn’t mean that she gained citizenship or any special rights. And despite the rather gloomy description of a post slavery life contained within, Palseks had signed them with gusto. It was Gregory that was holding things up.
“A Prince free a slave?” he had exclaimed, “and what of my subjects when I retake my throne? What will the serfs do when they find out that I let you go? Perhaps they too will want an end to their serfdom!”
Gregory scoffed, “Charlie says that you used to be friend and I shall treat you as such. But it was not I who clad your soul in chains, nor will I be the one to break them.”
Palseks couldn’t help but dwell on that conversation as resentment began to grow in her heart. All she wanted was to be with Rasker, but that could never happen as long as Gregory owned her.
The smell of frying eggs wafted up through the gaps in the floorboards below her – breakfast was being served downstairs.
“Oh no!” Palseks thought, SHE was supposed to be serving breakfast. That was, after all, her role as Gregory’s slave…
“No!” she pushed the thought out of her head.
Gregory had told her not to dote on him. In fact, he seemed rather disgusted by the very idea of her serving him anything at all. That thought of servitude wasn’t something that either of them had wanted her to do but, rather, something that was ingrained into this body. Whether an inborn kobold desire to serve, a carefully trained pleasure of a slave pleasing its master, or a combination of both, Palseks found herself briefly overwhelmed by her own body’s servile instincts.
Sighing, she carefully slipped the paperwork into a leather binder that Charlie had given her, then stowed it in a particularly safe spot on the carriage – unlike the rest of the party, packing for the trip had been easy as Palseks’ only belongings were the gear on her body and the papers that could free her from her life of servitude.
As she walked back into the inn, the little kobold smiled happily to herself. She didn’t know how, but she would figure out some way to get that paperwork signed. And then she would find Rasker, and they would be together again.