Monster Farmer 2: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure, page 24
Erron peered down into the pit and saw six monstrous forms, their scaly bodies similar to rivora, but very different in important ways. Gnashers were longer, with thicker limbs, almost like they were meant to run on four legs instead of the two that rivora usually got around on. They looked more like eels than fish, with an elongated midsection. Their backs were punctuated with spines, each with a webbing of skin flexed between.
Three of the gnashers were slightly taller, their scales glinting with a more pronounced iridescent sheen. These were the rivora who had been buried with their bone-tipped spears. They held these weapons in their new bodies, ready for battle. One of the spear-wielding gnashers actually lobbed its spear at Erron, but he deftly avoided it. The gnasher had no emotion on its bug-eyed face, but it clenched its webbed hand into fists as though it was frustrated that it missed.
A pair of rivora had risen as regular, non-weapon-wielding gnashers. They were slightly smaller but no less deadly, their clawed hands and needle-like teeth ready to rend and tear anything that threatened them.
But it was the sixth figure that truly drew Erron's attention. A rivora had risen wearing an ornate headdress and a set of clothes that looked ceremonial. It was slightly leaner than the others, but exuded an unmistakable aura of power. It looked like a primal shaman or something. Its scales were a deeper shade of blue, like the heart of a river, and a small staff was clenched in its claws, topped by a shimmering orb that seemed to swirl with the liquid life of the waterways.
As Erron stepped closer to the pit, he could sense the power emanating from the gnasher shaman. Its eyes were clear, the wild animalistic frenzy replaced with an eerie calmness. The others were like animals, but Erron sensed an understanding in this one holding the staff.
The staff in its hand pulsed, and a gentle mist formed around it, condensing into a droplet that hovered before it. With a nod of its head, the droplet shot toward one of the gnasher spearmen, sinking into its scales and causing them to shine with renewed vigor. Did this one have access to a magic ability?
Erron focused on the spearman the spell hit and saw the buff that was there.
Healing Waters
You are being healed by a Gnasher Shaman. Minor wounds will heal over time.
Erron felt a surge of exhilaration. He’d never had a monster with a healing spell before. This could be a game changer. Erron summoned both Clobber and Tomas to his side, as none of these fiends were pledging their fealty to Erron willingly.
There were now four empty fiend slots in his arsenal, but Erron needed to keep one of these reserved for the other revenant he had promised Edric. That gave him three of these gnashers he could keep. Erron had learned something quite important when fighting the massive terror turtle as well. The Dark Fury of the Fallen buff that he received when one of his fiends died was cumulative. If he sent three of his fiends to die on purpose purely to buff himself, he became nigh on unstoppable for some time.
The fight was over quickly. Clobber and Tomas controlled the battle, and as soon as the shaman offered its fealty, the other five fell in line. Erron elected to keep the shaman and two of the spearmen, known as gnasher lancers. The other two unarmed gnashers and the weakest of the three lancers were destroyed, which gave Clobber and Tomas a little extra experience each.
The gnashers had a similar ability to the wargs. It wasn’t called the same thing – Pack Dynamics – but instead was called Strength in Numbers. Gnashers, like the rivora, were a communal creature that used sheer numbers to control the battlefield. But not only did they work well together in a group, they actually legitimately got stronger when more of them were present. They gained buffs, which increased exponentially the more gnashers there were.
A storm of twenty furious gnashers with a couple of shamans keeping them healed would probably be unstoppable.
They added a new room to the personal quarters for Anton, as the steward needed his own private area with a desk to ensure the farm ran the way it should. Anton asked for some topographical maps of the farmland they had to work with, as he had some ideas about how they could best structure the farm for maximum yield. Erron used the map interface of the arcane core to trace a few simple top-down maps for Anton.
They buried more rivora the very next day, and Erron used this as an opportunity to experiment with the turtle shell. He had Clobber chop off some smaller pieces and placed this strategically over one of the rivora he buried. The others, he added different kinds of herbs and reagents to, just to see what the results would be.
The next day, the gnasher he covered in turtle shell rose as a strange gnasher-turtle hybrid. Erron had expected that it would just be an armored gnasher, but this one had a strange long neck that it could withdraw back into the turtle-like shell that covered most of its body. It even had legs and arms it could withdraw back into the shell as well.
The others were all impacted in some way by the herbs they had been buried with. The gnasher buried with heartwood mushrooms had a higher total health pool than others. The one buried with deathcap mushrooms had a lower total health pool and looked sickly. Erron wouldn’t be using those again. But the only gnasher Erron wanted to keep out of this new crop was the turtle-y one.
He used Clobber to kill the other gnashers, while the gnasher shaman stood on the side of the fiend pit and used Healing Waters to keep Clobber healthy. Eventually, the gnasher snapjaw pledged its fealty to Erron, and it was brought into the fold. Erron decided to keep both lancers in his fiend forging roster until he could raise another revenant for Edric Stormhammer.
Erron decided to keep the gnashers as a fighting force for the next week while they did all the repairs and upgrades that the farm needed. Erron spent his days working with his friends under the sun, trying to figure out how they were going to solve the myriad of problems that were piling up on Erron’s doorstep. He realized during that time that if he was faced with all of this alone, he would have probably crumbled already. Having a group of loyal friends who had your back no matter what was a blessing that he had taken for granted.
From the money that came in when they sold the harvest each day, Erron started divvying this up amongst his friends, and also paid Anton for his new role of steward of Hope’s End. Despite preparing for Corvin Garthanon’s men to come storming Hope’s End, they never did. So Erron just kept doing what needed to be done.
The new chickens started laying eggs almost immediately, and Sellis used the first dozen of these to make the fluffiest scrambled eggs Erron had ever tasted. He was already planning on expanding the chicken coop and getting more. Grulthok the black rooster had now asserted his dominance over the inside of the Hope’s End compound, strutting about like he owned the place. Every day, Grulthok crowed the moment the sun peeked over the horizon, which was their new signal to get out of bed and get stuck into the day. Sellis still resisted this as long as possible.
Erron noticed a huge change in his physical health after the last few weeks. The muscles he’d cultivated while fighting were for a sole purpose. To kill people. But his body felt completely different now, stronger in a way that he couldn’t fully understand. He ached with the effort of each day, but it was a good ache.
After the new fences around the outside of the fields were finished, Erron wanted to test out the battle capabilities of his gnashers and the imps. He mentioned this plan to Agatha, and she was quick to volunteer to come along.
“I’ve pretty much reached a point where I can’t continue with theory alone,” Agatha said. “The charm is almost ready, but I need some voidbloom to figure out this last little bit. I’m so close. It’s time for us to go south of the river.”
Erron nodded. With the death of the dozen rivora and the huge terror turtle, he was only a half a dozen monster kills away from completing one of Vyrmior’s quests. If his gnashers got a kill each, that would satisfy the bonus objective, as well as the standard ‘kill 50 monsters’ objective.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Erron said.
Sellis came with them, but Jenath elected to be the one to stay at Hope’s End to keep things safe and secure. Erron left Clobber and Tomas behind as well, but took the four gnashers and two imps with them. They were traveling with a formidable fighting force.
The quartet of gnashers flanked them, but the imps elected to travel through the treetops where they could. The monstrous silhouettes of the gnashers cut through fields illuminated by silvery moonlight as they ventured toward the bridge that would lead them south of the river. Erron rode on Swiftwind, but Agatha rode on the back of Sellis, who took the form of a massive warhorse with a tangled bramble tail.
“On a clear night like tonight, we should be able to find voidbloom if there is any to be found,” Agatha said. “The petals of the flower are supposed to shimmer under the light of the stars, but are especially bright when the moon is fullest.”
They continued on through the southern forest until they heard the sound of rushing water, then turned to the east and continued until they found the banks of the river. They followed the river until they reached the great stone bridge, and crossed it. The roads to the south were not as well kept as those around Harrow, and Erron could tell even in the darkness that they had entered a rougher, more wild country than his.
The silhouette of the mountain where Doomwhisper’s Barrow lay blacked out the stars like an ominous emptiness. At least Erron knew they were heading in the right direction. Erron had a rudimentary map of this area thanks to a map he’d seen of the Southern Reach in Mazurak’s tower, along with the map he’d seen at Hazel’s. He was waiting for them to arrive at the place where they could go off the road and start the climb up to the barrow. They had some ways to go.
Suddenly, something shimmering off to his right caught Erron's eye. He slowed Swiftwind, and Sellis slowed as well. The gnashers stood waiting, ready to react against any threats. “Does that look like voidbloom to you?” Erron asked.
Agatha leaned toward the shimmering patch, and the manic smile on her face in the moonlight actually scared Erron a little. “I think it is! Come, let’s go and see!”
Erron sent his gnasher ahead first just in case there was something waiting for them in the darkness. The tranquility was abruptly shattered by a low, guttural groan, followed by the rustling of leaves as the gnashers rushed forward. It was an eerie sound, one that sent a jolt of ice-cold fear down Erron's spine. Agatha's grip on her reins tightened reflexively as the moaning groans of the undead came from all around them.
Red-eyed zombies staggered into view, their hollow gazes illuminating the gloom with a pale red glow. It was almost like they’d been waiting there on the ground for travelers to stumble upon them. But that made sense to Erron. If Nekros Doomwhisper was making moves again, he would need more bodies to raise in his zombie army.
Erron reacted without hesitation. With a swift command, the gnashers all lunged into action, charging fearlessly toward the rising zombies. The spears of the lancers struck true, piercing the decaying flesh of the undead with lethal precision. Simultaneously, the snapjaw plunged into the chaos, its mighty jaws snapping shut around a zombie’s waist, crushing it into a pile of lifeless flesh and bone.
In the meantime, the shaman remained at the back, weaving his mystical spells of restoration. Every now and then, he conjured a healing water spell, his form glimmering with an otherworldly light under the moon's glow. A soothing mist engulfed the gnashers as they were injured, patching up any superficial wounds and warding off the creeping chill of the night.
The imps rained down poisoned arrows from above, but the zombies weren’t affected by the poison at all. It was almost like the zombies were immune to the effects of poison! If there was no blood running through their veins, that was entirely possible.
After a short but brutal battle, the last of the undead fell. The red glow in their eyes faded as they lay there on the ground. Erron thought he saw some of that light rise from the corpse of each zombie, as though the energy was returning somewhere.
He wondered if Nekros Doomwhisper could see things through the eyes of his thralls, just like Vyrmior could. He realized now that Vyrmior would be able to see exactly what was happening here to the south of the river as well. It was very likely she would know that Nekros Doomwhisper was active again.
Sellis trod carefully through the woodland undergrowth toward the cluster of voidbloom. Sellis came to a halt. Agatha gracefully dismounted, landing gently on the forest floor. Just ahead of her was a patch of glimmering voidbloom, the petals of each flower shimmering in the soft starlight.
“Look how many there are,” Agatha breathed in awe. “Do you remember how much Hazel said she’d buy these for?”
“Wasn’t it like a hundred crowns for a single flower?” Erron asked.
“That’s right. And there are fifteen here. Okay, I need to be very careful about this.”
Agatha approached the voidblooms with a reverence usually reserved for sacred rites. With great care, she knelt and began to collect the delicate flowers, her fingers deftly avoiding any unnecessary damage to the surrounding blooms. Each plucked voidbloom was inspected with a practiced eye before she gently placed it in a specially prepared hardwood box. Once satisfied with her harvest, Agatha closed the lid, securing the precious contents inside.
Gently wrapping the box in her pack, Agatha stowed it safely, ensuring that it was protected from the journey ahead.
“So what are we doing, boss? Heading back to the farm? Or are we continuing on?” Agatha asked. “There could be so much more voidbloom in these hills the closer we get to the barrow.”
Erron looked up at the imposing form of the mountain in front of him. Doomwhisper’s Barrow was right there. “We’re already here. Let’s keep going.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The gravel crunched underneath Swiftwind’s hoofs and Sellis in her warhorse form as Erron and his group made their way onto the path leading up the side of the mountain where Doomwhisper’s Barrow lay. The climb was steep, and the moonlight cast eerie shadows over the rocks and low-lying bushes on either side of the road. The gnashers moved to the side of the path, and one imp perched on the back of both horses. There were no trees for them to leap between this high up. It grew far colder the higher they climbed until Erron began seeing his own breath frosting the air in front of him.
They dispatched two more mobs of zombies as they climbed. It looked like the cold affected them as well, making them move slowly. But there were more of them the closer they got to the lich’s tomb. After another skirmish, all of the gnashers leveled up to Level 6. It didn’t bring with it any new abilities or powers, but they grew stronger. Erron was quite impressed at how well they fought in a pack.
He could imagine a fighting force made up entirely of gnashers. Two armored snapjaws, flanked by lancers, with a couple of shamans pulling up the rear. There were probably other weapons and tools he could bury rivora with, like daggers or fishing nets. The more gnashers there were, the stronger they all became. A horde of them would be nigh unstoppable.
During the last fight, Erron completed the requirements of the Fiendish Combat Training quest, and thanks to all of his gnashers getting kills, he completed both of the objectives. Erron would need to visit the Night Matron to complete this quest, but it would be worth it. He planned on completing the Investigate Doomwhisper’s Barrow quest as well.
The winding path seemed to stretch on endlessly before them, but eventually, it began to level out into a plateau. That was when Erron began to notice things that were built by the hands of men, or perhaps by the hands of enslaved zombies.
“I think we’re getting close,” Erron said.
Then the imposing structure came into view. The moonlight shone down on the tomb’s entrance, which was built into the rugged landscape. It was weathered down over the centuries, almost built into the side of the mountain itself. The stone façade bore the color and texture of the surrounding rock, and moss vines clung to the cold stone. Huge stone arches erupted from the top of the mountainside, giving it an ominous grandeur.
A massive stone door sat in a huge stone arch, a marvel of ancient architecture and a testament to what could be achieved by enslaving the dead. Yet as they grew closer, Erron thought he saw something strange about the door. Was there a crack running up from the bottom of it?
They headed closer and Erron could now see that, yes, there was a huge split running up from the base of the door. It was just wide enough for a zombie to be able to squeeze through. Erron and his friends could probably squeeze through it too…
They hitched Swiftwind to a bush near the entrance, and Erron went to peer inside the door. He saw something twinkling in the darkness back there, and it wasn’t glowing red. Whatever they were, they weren’t the eyes of zombies. It looked like an absolutely massive garden full of voidbloom.
“Sellis, can you use a form with darkvision to see if there’s a giant patch of voidbloom in there?” Erron asked.
Agatha dismounted, and a second later, Sellis shifted into her halfling form. “Agatha, you need to stop eating so many pies,” the halfling said as she dramatically grabbed her back and mocked being in pain.
“If you stop making so many of them, then maybe I will,” Agatha teased back.
Sellis laughed then shifted into her nightstalker form. The eyes of the mountain cat were suited for the dark, and she’d be able to confirm the presence of voidbloom with no problems. The big cat looked back at Erron and Agatha, then nodded.
There was voidbloom in there.
“How much? There’s a whole bunch, isn’t there?” Erron asked. The thought of the number of crowns he’d be able to sell them for made him contemplate going inside the barrow of an ancient lich. They could harvest it, then run straight back out, right? Would that let him complete the Night Matron’s quest?
