It had not failed to occur to him, particularly when he was puking up his guts on the hillside, that he'd grown less cautious and too reliant on his skills. The him that had hunted game on the [Plateau of Ancients] would never have tried approaching those goats like that. He'd have shot them from afar, preferably just the one alone, and learned what he may from one dead beast at a time. Ulric couldn't afford to get sloppy in his mindset. New powers, new abilities, these were useless if you put yourself into a dead end situation. He had to be better.
"You know, Taipan, when I was crossing the plains for those weeks on end, I kept thinking I was just starting to get a handle on how the monsters here worked. I came across Sano cored goblins that had, like, X-factor healing, there were grass types, a bunch of other shit, I mean I really got a good taste of the wonders of the Vardan wild. But all that, it wasn't really close to how many scary as hell things are running around out there, was it?" Ulric asked, humbled.
A supple, strong hand ruffled his hair and rested against his chin, the intense gaze of the Iriel'en woman's bronze flecked green eyes staring into his soul as she smiled and said, "It was barely the surface of what secrets Varda hides."
Ulric nodded, the throbbing behind his eyes making that a chore, and told her a little wearily, "Yeah. Yeah, I was starting to suspect as much."
They lapsed into silence then and his partner helped him gut and dress the [Thunderhorn Sheep]. Ulric retrieved the golf ball sized core, with its shimmering violet, sky blue, and foreboding grey swirls. Consummate scientist that he was, Ulric pinged the core and the other two like it repeatedly to feel out the tones and resonances of their subtle blend of storm mana. This was one of the most complex arrangements of notes that he'd felt to this point. It would be a tall task to reproduce the type of signature that was manifest in these cores. Not impossible, by any stretch of the imagination, just tedious and demanding of his attention. What a reward though…Ulric's lightning magic would open doors to this new synergistic manaform.
In addition to their obscure, though patently fascinating mana type, the [Thunderhorn Sheep] proved to be divine when cooked. Better roast mutton there would not be found anywhere. If he had the materials to whip up a good barbeque sauce there would be pulled mutton sandwiches that would cement his status as a god amongst the chefs of these lands. Some onions, a little spicy mayo, and maybe some spinach. Maybe not though, you didn't need to get too fancy with a good barbeque sandwich. Definitely some salty french fries though, that was just a given. Served with the Legranel's mead, to cap it off. Yeah, that was it, Ulric knew that his final destiny was to open an eatery on the Plateau. Twice Born Bar and Grill, the best godsdamned café food that this primal world ever knew. Or maybe that was just the concussion talking, who knows?
His shame was somewhat mitigated by the fact that the Orlethrem, so recently experiencing a living nightmare, were coming along nicely in their recovery. That was thanks in no small part to his efforts clearing the monsters and now he'd even treated as many as possible to a portion of fresh mutton. Ulric had to admit, as he canvassed the traveler's camps that sprung up from the ground around them, that things were much improved on the refugee front.
That the reforged man frequently cooked delicious meals for them and, between himself and Taipan and the supplies they'd taken from the torturers, they had traveled well fed and in as much safety as could be managed meant the pilgrims were growing stronger. Scars would fade, if memory didn't, and bones would heal. For the missing limbs and digits there was nothing but for to learn to make do without and the Elves that had been unable to come to terms with their maiming had already gone to their end. Now he just had to get them on those boats and get them past the fortress of Prosper, which sat on top of the mouth of the Zelus like a great fat golden spider spinning its threads made of wealth and soft power to strangle the lands of Prespang. That was going to be tricky.
Blinding headaches and mountain climbing after having the crap kicked out of you made for an early bed time. As much as he would have liked to hold a strategy meeting to confirm their plans for tomorrow, he just didn't have it in him. The Twins were still in the sky when the sleep hammer fell and Ulric would not rise until shaken awake before dawn the next morning.
"Abuh?" He asked blearily.
The hand on his shoulder withdrew and a gentle voice from above, so sweet and melodic, spoke as if from the heaven he had no belief in, "Get up from your blankets Ulric, we have today a challenge before us."
Flexing his torso, thankfully far less spongy and bruised than the previous day's tenderizing would have led him to believe, Ulric sat up and wiped his eyes before yawning wide. The headache was blessedly gone.
A naked Taipan stood before him, the Elf having been bathing with a wet rag, as travelers must. You don't want to be hiking around covered in sweat and grime. It led to chafing and health problems. Resistant as these Vardan forged bodies were to infection, there were limits. Without Sano mages on hand to heal any issues away, cleanliness was right up there with wearing boots for increasing your ability to travel long distances. The only light in their teepee was a small bowl of sheep fat with a twist of shaggy wool for a wick, the improvised candle made by his Shadow-Wife the day before and which Ulric considered a neat trick that he wished he'd have thought of. It was in the many small comforts she managed to produce in their journey together that her experience roaming this world's savage lands tended to shine.
Gods knew Ulric had missed many of them in his time lost in the endless prairies.
He'd also missed the sight before him, soft curves on top of chiseled muscle, moving in perfect harmony as she bathed. Never did the sight get old to him. But enough ogling! Ulric joined his partner in the ablutions, scrubbing methodically to remove grime from his own hardened musculature. Vardan life did the old body fat index wonders, he was rabbit lean. The Watcher's gift of a reforged body had honed nicely against the stone of brutal training and rigorous adventure.
Actually, now that he was up and moving, he felt pretty good, in spite of his attempts to get himself beat to death by the storm cloud bearing billy goats. It helped that whatever palsy inflicted by the storm mana in their horns had dissipated. He'd have to remember that one. Against something tough enough that he couldn't deliver a killing blow with his magics, a prolonged debuff was not a bad way to shift the odds in his favor. Set up the hook with the jab Ulric and then! The old dick twist. Seventy percent of the time it would work every time. Chuckling at the Holonet forum slang of a world long gone he continued his cleaning.
Now that the bodies were scrubbed it was time to do the same for the clothes, at least the ones that touched the skin. For the same reason a rag bath was a good idea, making sure your base layers and socks were fresh was paramount. Which was how it came to be that Ulric sat next to a rock pool in the dim blue lighting of predawn washing Taipan's underwear while she hummed quietly beside him running his socks over a smooth stone, back and forth which motion did wonderful things to her chest. Ahh the simple life. Following the rougher treatment, to break up the dirt and remove the worst of the nastiness, they tossed their underclothes into his [Steelwood] cookpot, to soak in soapy water over the coals of a low campfire. They'd bring that to a boil and let it cool and then they'd be ready for dress.
Similar events were unfolding throughout the caravan's many fire places as the travelers prepared themselves for the day. Many forms, most of them sporting scars, stumps, and bandages, dotted the gently rolling plateau and were the more beautiful in his eyes for their tenacity. There wasn't much quit to be found in the Orlethrem that had survived the Bane manufacture facilities.
Ulric was squatted down next to the cookpot, stirring their laundry gently when a passing female whistled and asked aloud, "What has a girl got to do to get one of those in her bedding?"
To which his grinning wife replied "You've got to try to kill them. Thins out the weak ones and, a good strong buck like this one, took three or four attempts at murder to get settled. Too settled, I had to catch him half dead and drug him to get him in the mood to bed me."
It no longer bothered him to be spoken of like this, the Elves were all rather open about things and it was nice to get a compliment so early in the day. Besides, he had seen himself in the water and he had the best man ass around so they could look all they wanted to. Bask in the glory says I, Ulric crowed inside while keeping a bored expression, bask!
He also knew better than to disagree with her somewhat badly generalized recollection of their "courting", lest she be provoked to provide more details to defend her claims. It was true she'd tried to kill him a couple of times and that he'd tried to kill her and ended up electrocuting her pretty thoroughly. Afterwards it was mostly just snarking and back biting until they'd come to terms. She wasn't exactly exaggerating about that drug thing though, they'd been high as kites on some kind of mushroom harvested from his glade when they first smashed. He was definitely going to want to produce that stuff at industrial scale and export it, it was bomber shit. No more could be had until he returned to his home on the Plateau though, sadly.
Just because he didn't see the need to egg his Shadow on, didn't mean he didn't have a counter punch ready though, as was the norm for their regular sparring.
"Be careful following my Taipan's advice, she leaves out a few steps! When first we met I killed her bow, told her off like she's never heard before, and ran Ceraun through her until she was pacified. If not for offending her brother's innocent eyes I'd have probably worked her over real good like." Ulric informed the female's shapely retreating rear.
To her credit, the passing Elf gave the best response from over her shoulder, "Don't threaten me with a good time you rogue!"
Ahh, Elves. They were fun sometimes.
His partner did not take umbrage to his retort either, he'd said nothing that wasn't so.
"If you like, I think I can catch that one and hide her in our bed for a few days." Offered Taipan, whose eyes had also followed the quite spectacular rump as it sauntered off.
Ulric laughed at that. His Wife had an inclination for "hunting" partners to spice up the bedroom, not that he was one to complain. However, such games were best saved for when they had time to be enjoyed. For right now, he was just happy to have his mate back and that they were both in one piece after the trials of this past little bit. A little dinged up, the both of them, but in one piece.
"It is appreciated, Taipan, but leave the poor thing be. She's only just recovering and you'll wear her out." Ulric predicted.
The smile on her lips said that was, indeed, the plan.
Deciding against ruminating on the hunting habits of Taipans, Ulric chose to continue stirring the laundry. Judging that it had received proper sterilization, he dumped the pot of steaming clothes and soon had them drying, hung from the hooks that were arranged to permit the tie off extra baggage or cargo covers on the sides of the wagon.
It was just as well they were coming to another port city, the intervening weeks had been sort of rough on his clothes. The reason he was sitting here in his skin now was thanks to the lack of options. He'd set out with three sets of travel robes and underclothes. Events had transpired to reduce him to just the one sitting here on the side of the wagon. Taipan had packed light, the better to make her absurd run to locate him, after weeks of fighting in against the attempted blitzkrieg on the Iriel'en Sanctuaries, and was in a similarly disheveled state. Most of the Orlethrem refugees were wearing little better than rags and the situation would have been outright dire had not the late spring season been comfortable at all hours, aside from the chilling influence of the constant trade winds coming off the ocean and the frequent rains.
Speaking of, a peal of thunder rolled from the clouds that were approaching and he and the rest of the caravan steeled their hearts against another blow through. Already the looming storm, carried on the vast versions of what those stupid goats had held between their spiraling horns, threatened aggressive weather. The entire camp began to batten down the hatches in anticipation, knowing now that this system wasn't going to miss them. They had long since learned that attempting to travel through these short, but frequently intense patterns was just an exercise in masochism; the pitiful speed of travel was not, in any way, adequately rewarding for the suffering endured.
Ten minutes later, Ulric sat inside the teepee, his clothes now hung from the support poles to dry, and the little stone firepit hosting a lively fire. Outside, rain came on in sheets, driven by pulses of Vatyn's winds. Thunder punctuated the storm ferociously and Ulric's core felt the faintest whispers of Ceraun, high above in the clouds. An almost subconscious call from the mana out there to his own. Awareness of storms was one of the newer oddities to his life, one that had mostly only revealed itself in the last month or so. He supposed it was related to an increasing comfort with the workings of his awakened core. Ceraun was a manaform that longed to connect things, positive to negative, as the electromagnetic force always sought itself, and that magic was part of his being in ways he didn't fully understand.
The increased connection to his powers was reflected in his conflict of wills with the [Stormhorn Sheep]. It used a manaform that was heavily laden with his own and they had clashed, its magically enhanced horn ram against his electromagnetic parry, and he had managed to sort of magically tug of war with the monster's instinctive "casting". He'd pulled its magic apart and redirected the Ceraun aspect of it, amplifying his counterattack. It was similar to performing one of Gother's magical parries but slightly different. Ulric very much doubted he could do such a thing to any other elemental form than something closely akin to lightning, it required too great an intuitive understanding of the mana, relied too heavily on the core's innate control over its attuned magic.
Still. Good to know.
His partner was reclined on their bedding, resting still. Her ribs and thigh would recover faster the less she moved. Ulric was the only one who received a passive healing boost from his core being in a saturated state, another gift of the Watcher's otherwordly crafting of his physical form. She was, nevertheless, coming on rapidly, by virtue of being incredibly healthy an in the prime of Elf life.
"How you doing lass? Feeling any better?" Ulric inquired of her.
She lifted a supple arm from over her face and looked at him appreciatively before returning to her resting position.
"Improving, Ulric. It no longer agonizes with each deep breath and I think I might even manage a brief run, though I would pay for such effort dearly later." Answered the Iriel'en Paragon.
"And yourself, Glade Chief? Your injuries and lingering debilitation are mending?" Returned the lilting voice from beneath her arm's cover.
He thought it over a second. Yeah, he realized, more or less he was alright. The long sleep had done wonders.
"All good, mostly. I think I'm starting to figure out that part of that Kataigis mana's difference to Ceraun is that it sort of sticks to a living creature a bit, digging into its body. It's less aggressively energetic but the additional resonances of Caelum and Aquae and whatever else give it much more robust staying power. An interesting manaform to be sure." Ulric replied, voicing aloud some of his contemplations.
He hadn't managed to reproduce the Kataigis yet, but he was puzzling out some of its nature.
A grunt came from the wounded Shadow and she sardonically asked him if he'd like to go get another to play with.
"Not on your life! I'll kill any and all goats from a long damned ways away from now on, thanks." was his retort.
And he would damn it! But, clearly, not with lightning magic seeing as how the assholes had absorbed his bolts with little trouble. That was the kind of shit that concerned him greatly. A sword was the weapon it was because it was sharp, otherwise it's just a bad club. His lightning magic was a weapon because it struck fast and hard and put down a target right fucking now. To fail in that was understandable when the target was big, the larger creatures took more energy to put down, had more robust bodies. But twice he'd had his magic do, essentially, fuck all. Once against that assassin wearing the artifact armor that had some enchantment that grounded his lightning, like a big ass Faraday cage. This time, the [Stormhorn Sheep] had slurped his spell up like a big 'ol magic smoothy. He wasn't sure what countermeasures he had against such a thing, but there was a hint in the brief back and forth of wills he'd had against the beast when their attacks had met. In that case it was Ulric who had come out on top, wresting control of the magic and turning it back against the sheep.
Looks like his training was not complete, Gother probably could have warned him about this, and so could Bathe, she could do similar things, manipulating the mana inside another's body with her own. They hadn't had enough time though, it was enough that he'd progressed as far as he had in such short span. He couldn't be upset, his life in Varda had started slow enough, but since leaving the glade the pace of events had ramped considerably. Ulric Einar was caught in the rapids now, just doing his damnedest to keep his head above water.
A sudden thought occurred to him then. He'd fought with the sentient peoples of this continent on several occasions and done well enough, taking, mostly, only a few wounds. In contrast, many of the creatures had come real close to fucking him up proper. Was there really so great a gap between the monsters and the men of the land?
"Taipan, a quick question for you," the confused Glade Chief announced suddenly against the backdrop of rain, "Are the people I've been fighting mostly weak bastards or are the monsters out in the wilds just, like, crazy strong?"
A light titter from his reclining mate left him without immediate answer.
"Ah, sorry Ulric Glade Chief, husband, it's just refreshing to hear such odd questions." The Elf lass replied, suppressing more giggles.
She lifted her arm from her face raised herself up gingerly and held his grey eyes with her own emerald and bronze ones as she expanded on her answer.
"Categorically, the monsters of Varda's wilds are not trifling creatures. There is good reason why few settlements are without tall walls and why almost none live in isolated steadholds. It is only with great effort that the denizens of the open are kept at bay and why the tribes that live in the outer reaches are renowned for their hardiness and ferocity." Begun his partner, instructing him in the common sense of Varda's people.
From her splayed legged seat, supported on her arms, his Shadow told him what he should have realized sooner.
"The fighters we have faced are not necessarily weaklings, although they have, mostly, not been of high level or deep in their classes enough to be of the caliber of warrior that would hold long against a seasoned Iriel'en Hunter or still less against one of the Royal Guards, with whom you have had protracted experience."
Tossing her head at his ignorance the Amazon grinned at him and told him with some degree of pride in her chosen mate, "Ulric, you stood with the best soldiers and mages that Orlethrem has to offer and drank their arts like an Elf lost in the deserts. Between your magics and your unnatural physical ability, it is little wonder that the enemies you have faced have been unable to withstand you. My Glade Chief comes into his strength well and there is yet to come, if I can keep you alive long enough to grow into your potential."
The possessive note to her explanation was not unsurprising, for all her odd way of going about it, Taipan had always tried to teach him how to live in this savage world. Weakness was not long tolerated beyond civilization's walls and his partner made it clear that she would not accept it from him, not where she could correct his habits carried over from a tamed, peaceful, devastated world. No, his Shadow-Wife truly was looking out for his best interests, it was just that Iriel'en did not babysit. They parented like leopards, dragging a wounded prey to be released so that the cub had to learn to kill on its own, the scavengers held away by the parent's presence. Very much a sink or swim approach.
He realized then that this was the way of the Elves warrior castes in particular. All were expected to be able to defend themselves but the greater houses, who carried the burden of leadership amongst their people cultivated a far more aggressively competent mindset. Which was why, when it looked like things were going to get dicey, they hid their citizens away in the Sanctuaries. Orlethrem warrior's viewed themselves as the porcupine's spines, hard and sharp to guard the soft underbelly that was their noncombat classes. Other cultures would also mirror this worldview, he just hadn't so much met many of them. The barbarians hunting the criminals of their tribe were ones. Varrock was another, the old wolf had fought soldiers in their primes unarmed and had looked to have the upperhand until that Magister had used his catalyst based magic. Even Werona Autumnclaw, as close to a scholar as anyone Ulric had ever met had, when the fighting broke out, showed a savage fighting instinct.
"So, it's not such an uncommon thing to get beat up by a bunch of random goats in the countryside?" Ulric asked.
Taipan laughed, then groaned at the pain from doing so, and glibly took his legs out from under him, "Oh, no, I did not say that, Ulric. You put your nose in a wasp nest like a cub and were surprised to be stung! Even those bottom feeders we reaped in Trachn'ir would not have thought to walk down a group of beasts outnumbered."
Fair enough.
"Yeah, okay, laugh it up Taipan, I deserve it. I can't deny that I did a stupid." Ulric allowed, seeing no sense in denying the obvious.
His mate took some of the sting out of his failure, commiserating with him by a gentle reminder, "We Hunters must all of us be reminded at times not to become unwary or over confident. It was you that taught me humility at the side of my brother, that even the least of your enemies is still a foe and nothing can be taken at face value."
She fell silent and he reflected on that lesson again, really let it soak into the old noodle.
Varda punished mistakes. Frequently that punishment was for keeps.
"Would that I were well enough for it Ulric, I would lift your spirits with the making of 'whoopee' as you call it." His Shadow said with a sly tone.
She laid back slowly and rolled over onto her stomach, kicking her fine legs lightly, the subtle flex of muscle beneath supple flesh alluring. Ulric decided that two could play this game.
"Alas, my love, it is a shame. But I shan't mope," Ulric returned, rising to his feet with deliberate motions, "No, I think I could go for a touch of exercise to loosen up these stiff joints."
Then Ulric ran through his balance and strengthening exercises still in the buff, which he knew got his partner nicely riled up, her eyes following him hungrily as he went through the stances, holds, presses, and routines that showed off nicely his physique in the firelight.
When he finished, the Elf woman, hoisted on her own petard, accused him petulantly, "Tease!"
Pretending innocence, looking around briefly for the accused, the reforged man then smiled and squatted down next this leopardess wrapped in Elf skin, waggling his eyebrows, "Then don't start what you can't finish, Taipan."
Pouting lips, full and moist, parted to release a regretful sigh from the woman, "Haaah, it is what I deserve, Glade Chief. But know this, when I am well again, I am going to Husband you most thoroughly."
Ulric thought back to the sally from the Elf girl earlier, grinning, "Don't threaten me with a good time!"
It had not failed to occur to him, particularly when he was puking up his guts on the hillside, that he'd grown less cautious and too reliant on his skills. The him that had hunted game on the [Plateau of Ancients] would never have tried approaching those goats like that. He'd have shot them from afar, preferably just the one alone, and learned what he may from one dead beast at a time. Ulric couldn't afford to get sloppy in his mindset. New powers, new abilities, these were useless if you put yourself into a dead end situation. He had to be better.
"You know, Taipan, when I was crossing the plains for those weeks on end, I kept thinking I was just starting to get a handle on how the monsters here worked. I came across Sano cored goblins that had, like, X-factor healing, there were grass types, a bunch of other shit, I mean I really got a good taste of the wonders of the Vardan wild. But all that, it wasn't really close to how many scary as hell things are running around out there, was it?" Ulric asked, humbled.
A supple, strong hand ruffled his hair and rested against his chin, the intense gaze of the Iriel'en woman's bronze flecked green eyes staring into his soul as she smiled and said, "It was barely the surface of what secrets Varda hides."
Ulric nodded, the throbbing behind his eyes making that a chore, and told her a little wearily, "Yeah. Yeah, I was starting to suspect as much."
They lapsed into silence then and his partner helped him gut and dress the [Thunderhorn Sheep]. Ulric retrieved the golf ball sized core, with its shimmering violet, sky blue, and foreboding grey swirls. Consummate scientist that he was, Ulric pinged the core and the other two like it repeatedly to feel out the tones and resonances of their subtle blend of storm mana. This was one of the most complex arrangements of notes that he'd felt to this point. It would be a tall task to reproduce the type of signature that was manifest in these cores. Not impossible, by any stretch of the imagination, just tedious and demanding of his attention. What a reward though…Ulric's lightning magic would open doors to this new synergistic manaform.
In addition to their obscure, though patently fascinating mana type, the [Thunderhorn Sheep] proved to be divine when cooked. Better roast mutton there would not be found anywhere. If he had the materials to whip up a good barbeque sauce there would be pulled mutton sandwiches that would cement his status as a god amongst the chefs of these lands. Some onions, a little spicy mayo, and maybe some spinach. Maybe not though, you didn't need to get too fancy with a good barbeque sandwich. Definitely some salty french fries though, that was just a given. Served with the Legranel's mead, to cap it off. Yeah, that was it, Ulric knew that his final destiny was to open an eatery on the Plateau. Twice Born Bar and Grill, the best godsdamned café food that this primal world ever knew. Or maybe that was just the concussion talking, who knows?
His shame was somewhat mitigated by the fact that the Orlethrem, so recently experiencing a living nightmare, were coming along nicely in their recovery. That was thanks in no small part to his efforts clearing the monsters and now he'd even treated as many as possible to a portion of fresh mutton. Ulric had to admit, as he canvassed the traveler's camps that sprung up from the ground around them, that things were much improved on the refugee front.
That the reforged man frequently cooked delicious meals for them and, between himself and Taipan and the supplies they'd taken from the torturers, they had traveled well fed and in as much safety as could be managed meant the pilgrims were growing stronger. Scars would fade, if memory didn't, and bones would heal. For the missing limbs and digits there was nothing but for to learn to make do without and the Elves that had been unable to come to terms with their maiming had already gone to their end. Now he just had to get them on those boats and get them past the fortress of Prosper, which sat on top of the mouth of the Zelus like a great fat golden spider spinning its threads made of wealth and soft power to strangle the lands of Prespang. That was going to be tricky.
Blinding headaches and mountain climbing after having the crap kicked out of you made for an early bed time. As much as he would have liked to hold a strategy meeting to confirm their plans for tomorrow, he just didn't have it in him. The Twins were still in the sky when the sleep hammer fell and Ulric would not rise until shaken awake before dawn the next morning.
"Abuh?" He asked blearily.
The hand on his shoulder withdrew and a gentle voice from above, so sweet and melodic, spoke as if from the heaven he had no belief in, "Get up from your blankets Ulric, we have today a challenge before us."
Flexing his torso, thankfully far less spongy and bruised than the previous day's tenderizing would have led him to believe, Ulric sat up and wiped his eyes before yawning wide. The headache was blessedly gone.
A naked Taipan stood before him, the Elf having been bathing with a wet rag, as travelers must. You don't want to be hiking around covered in sweat and grime. It led to chafing and health problems. Resistant as these Vardan forged bodies were to infection, there were limits. Without Sano mages on hand to heal any issues away, cleanliness was right up there with wearing boots for increasing your ability to travel long distances. The only light in their teepee was a small bowl of sheep fat with a twist of shaggy wool for a wick, the improvised candle made by his Shadow-Wife the day before and which Ulric considered a neat trick that he wished he'd have thought of. It was in the many small comforts she managed to produce in their journey together that her experience roaming this world's savage lands tended to shine.
Gods knew Ulric had missed many of them in his time lost in the endless prairies.
He'd also missed the sight before him, soft curves on top of chiseled muscle, moving in perfect harmony as she bathed. Never did the sight get old to him. But enough ogling! Ulric joined his partner in the ablutions, scrubbing methodically to remove grime from his own hardened musculature. Vardan life did the old body fat index wonders, he was rabbit lean. The Watcher's gift of a reforged body had honed nicely against the stone of brutal training and rigorous adventure.
Actually, now that he was up and moving, he felt pretty good, in spite of his attempts to get himself beat to death by the storm cloud bearing billy goats. It helped that whatever palsy inflicted by the storm mana in their horns had dissipated. He'd have to remember that one. Against something tough enough that he couldn't deliver a killing blow with his magics, a prolonged debuff was not a bad way to shift the odds in his favor. Set up the hook with the jab Ulric and then! The old dick twist. Seventy percent of the time it would work every time. Chuckling at the Holonet forum slang of a world long gone he continued his cleaning.
Now that the bodies were scrubbed it was time to do the same for the clothes, at least the ones that touched the skin. For the same reason a rag bath was a good idea, making sure your base layers and socks were fresh was paramount. Which was how it came to be that Ulric sat next to a rock pool in the dim blue lighting of predawn washing Taipan's underwear while she hummed quietly beside him running his socks over a smooth stone, back and forth which motion did wonderful things to her chest. Ahh the simple life. Following the rougher treatment, to break up the dirt and remove the worst of the nastiness, they tossed their underclothes into his [Steelwood] cookpot, to soak in soapy water over the coals of a low campfire. They'd bring that to a boil and let it cool and then they'd be ready for dress.
Similar events were unfolding throughout the caravan's many fire places as the travelers prepared themselves for the day. Many forms, most of them sporting scars, stumps, and bandages, dotted the gently rolling plateau and were the more beautiful in his eyes for their tenacity. There wasn't much quit to be found in the Orlethrem that had survived the Bane manufacture facilities.
Ulric was squatted down next to the cookpot, stirring their laundry gently when a passing female whistled and asked aloud, "What has a girl got to do to get one of those in her bedding?"
To which his grinning wife replied "You've got to try to kill them. Thins out the weak ones and, a good strong buck like this one, took three or four attempts at murder to get settled. Too settled, I had to catch him half dead and drug him to get him in the mood to bed me."
It no longer bothered him to be spoken of like this, the Elves were all rather open about things and it was nice to get a compliment so early in the day. Besides, he had seen himself in the water and he had the best man ass around so they could look all they wanted to. Bask in the glory says I, Ulric crowed inside while keeping a bored expression, bask!
He also knew better than to disagree with her somewhat badly generalized recollection of their "courting", lest she be provoked to provide more details to defend her claims. It was true she'd tried to kill him a couple of times and that he'd tried to kill her and ended up electrocuting her pretty thoroughly. Afterwards it was mostly just snarking and back biting until they'd come to terms. She wasn't exactly exaggerating about that drug thing though, they'd been high as kites on some kind of mushroom harvested from his glade when they first smashed. He was definitely going to want to produce that stuff at industrial scale and export it, it was bomber shit. No more could be had until he returned to his home on the Plateau though, sadly.
Just because he didn't see the need to egg his Shadow on, didn't mean he didn't have a counter punch ready though, as was the norm for their regular sparring.
"Be careful following my Taipan's advice, she leaves out a few steps! When first we met I killed her bow, told her off like she's never heard before, and ran Ceraun through her until she was pacified. If not for offending her brother's innocent eyes I'd have probably worked her over real good like." Ulric informed the female's shapely retreating rear.
To her credit, the passing Elf gave the best response from over her shoulder, "Don't threaten me with a good time you rogue!"
Ahh, Elves. They were fun sometimes.
His partner did not take umbrage to his retort either, he'd said nothing that wasn't so.
"If you like, I think I can catch that one and hide her in our bed for a few days." Offered Taipan, whose eyes had also followed the quite spectacular rump as it sauntered off.
Ulric laughed at that. His Wife had an inclination for "hunting" partners to spice up the bedroom, not that he was one to complain. However, such games were best saved for when they had time to be enjoyed. For right now, he was just happy to have his mate back and that they were both in one piece after the trials of this past little bit. A little dinged up, the both of them, but in one piece.
"It is appreciated, Taipan, but leave the poor thing be. She's only just recovering and you'll wear her out." Ulric predicted.
The smile on her lips said that was, indeed, the plan.
Deciding against ruminating on the hunting habits of Taipans, Ulric chose to continue stirring the laundry. Judging that it had received proper sterilization, he dumped the pot of steaming clothes and soon had them drying, hung from the hooks that were arranged to permit the tie off extra baggage or cargo covers on the sides of the wagon.
It was just as well they were coming to another port city, the intervening weeks had been sort of rough on his clothes. The reason he was sitting here in his skin now was thanks to the lack of options. He'd set out with three sets of travel robes and underclothes. Events had transpired to reduce him to just the one sitting here on the side of the wagon. Taipan had packed light, the better to make her absurd run to locate him, after weeks of fighting in against the attempted blitzkrieg on the Iriel'en Sanctuaries, and was in a similarly disheveled state. Most of the Orlethrem refugees were wearing little better than rags and the situation would have been outright dire had not the late spring season been comfortable at all hours, aside from the chilling influence of the constant trade winds coming off the ocean and the frequent rains.
Speaking of, a peal of thunder rolled from the clouds that were approaching and he and the rest of the caravan steeled their hearts against another blow through. Already the looming storm, carried on the vast versions of what those stupid goats had held between their spiraling horns, threatened aggressive weather. The entire camp began to batten down the hatches in anticipation, knowing now that this system wasn't going to miss them. They had long since learned that attempting to travel through these short, but frequently intense patterns was just an exercise in masochism; the pitiful speed of travel was not, in any way, adequately rewarding for the suffering endured.
Ten minutes later, Ulric sat inside the teepee, his clothes now hung from the support poles to dry, and the little stone firepit hosting a lively fire. Outside, rain came on in sheets, driven by pulses of Vatyn's winds. Thunder punctuated the storm ferociously and Ulric's core felt the faintest whispers of Ceraun, high above in the clouds. An almost subconscious call from the mana out there to his own. Awareness of storms was one of the newer oddities to his life, one that had mostly only revealed itself in the last month or so. He supposed it was related to an increasing comfort with the workings of his awakened core. Ceraun was a manaform that longed to connect things, positive to negative, as the electromagnetic force always sought itself, and that magic was part of his being in ways he didn't fully understand.
The increased connection to his powers was reflected in his conflict of wills with the [Stormhorn Sheep]. It used a manaform that was heavily laden with his own and they had clashed, its magically enhanced horn ram against his electromagnetic parry, and he had managed to sort of magically tug of war with the monster's instinctive "casting". He'd pulled its magic apart and redirected the Ceraun aspect of it, amplifying his counterattack. It was similar to performing one of Gother's magical parries but slightly different. Ulric very much doubted he could do such a thing to any other elemental form than something closely akin to lightning, it required too great an intuitive understanding of the mana, relied too heavily on the core's innate control over its attuned magic.
Still. Good to know.
His partner was reclined on their bedding, resting still. Her ribs and thigh would recover faster the less she moved. Ulric was the only one who received a passive healing boost from his core being in a saturated state, another gift of the Watcher's otherwordly crafting of his physical form. She was, nevertheless, coming on rapidly, by virtue of being incredibly healthy an in the prime of Elf life.
"How you doing lass? Feeling any better?" Ulric inquired of her.
She lifted a supple arm from over her face and looked at him appreciatively before returning to her resting position.
"Improving, Ulric. It no longer agonizes with each deep breath and I think I might even manage a brief run, though I would pay for such effort dearly later." Answered the Iriel'en Paragon.
"And yourself, Glade Chief? Your injuries and lingering debilitation are mending?" Returned the lilting voice from beneath her arm's cover.
He thought it over a second. Yeah, he realized, more or less he was alright. The long sleep had done wonders.
"All good, mostly. I think I'm starting to figure out that part of that Kataigis mana's difference to Ceraun is that it sort of sticks to a living creature a bit, digging into its body. It's less aggressively energetic but the additional resonances of Caelum and Aquae and whatever else give it much more robust staying power. An interesting manaform to be sure." Ulric replied, voicing aloud some of his contemplations.
He hadn't managed to reproduce the Kataigis yet, but he was puzzling out some of its nature.
A grunt came from the wounded Shadow and she sardonically asked him if he'd like to go get another to play with.
"Not on your life! I'll kill any and all goats from a long damned ways away from now on, thanks." was his retort.
And he would damn it! But, clearly, not with lightning magic seeing as how the assholes had absorbed his bolts with little trouble. That was the kind of shit that concerned him greatly. A sword was the weapon it was because it was sharp, otherwise it's just a bad club. His lightning magic was a weapon because it struck fast and hard and put down a target right fucking now. To fail in that was understandable when the target was big, the larger creatures took more energy to put down, had more robust bodies. But twice he'd had his magic do, essentially, fuck all. Once against that assassin wearing the artifact armor that had some enchantment that grounded his lightning, like a big ass Faraday cage. This time, the [Stormhorn Sheep] had slurped his spell up like a big 'ol magic smoothy. He wasn't sure what countermeasures he had against such a thing, but there was a hint in the brief back and forth of wills he'd had against the beast when their attacks had met. In that case it was Ulric who had come out on top, wresting control of the magic and turning it back against the sheep.
Looks like his training was not complete, Gother probably could have warned him about this, and so could Bathe, she could do similar things, manipulating the mana inside another's body with her own. They hadn't had enough time though, it was enough that he'd progressed as far as he had in such short span. He couldn't be upset, his life in Varda had started slow enough, but since leaving the glade the pace of events had ramped considerably. Ulric Einar was caught in the rapids now, just doing his damnedest to keep his head above water.
A sudden thought occurred to him then. He'd fought with the sentient peoples of this continent on several occasions and done well enough, taking, mostly, only a few wounds. In contrast, many of the creatures had come real close to fucking him up proper. Was there really so great a gap between the monsters and the men of the land?
"Taipan, a quick question for you," the confused Glade Chief announced suddenly against the backdrop of rain, "Are the people I've been fighting mostly weak bastards or are the monsters out in the wilds just, like, crazy strong?"
A light titter from his reclining mate left him without immediate answer.
"Ah, sorry Ulric Glade Chief, husband, it's just refreshing to hear such odd questions." The Elf lass replied, suppressing more giggles.
She lifted her arm from her face raised herself up gingerly and held his grey eyes with her own emerald and bronze ones as she expanded on her answer.
"Categorically, the monsters of Varda's wilds are not trifling creatures. There is good reason why few settlements are without tall walls and why almost none live in isolated steadholds. It is only with great effort that the denizens of the open are kept at bay and why the tribes that live in the outer reaches are renowned for their hardiness and ferocity." Begun his partner, instructing him in the common sense of Varda's people.
From her splayed legged seat, supported on her arms, his Shadow told him what he should have realized sooner.
"The fighters we have faced are not necessarily weaklings, although they have, mostly, not been of high level or deep in their classes enough to be of the caliber of warrior that would hold long against a seasoned Iriel'en Hunter or still less against one of the Royal Guards, with whom you have had protracted experience."
Tossing her head at his ignorance the Amazon grinned at him and told him with some degree of pride in her chosen mate, "Ulric, you stood with the best soldiers and mages that Orlethrem has to offer and drank their arts like an Elf lost in the deserts. Between your magics and your unnatural physical ability, it is little wonder that the enemies you have faced have been unable to withstand you. My Glade Chief comes into his strength well and there is yet to come, if I can keep you alive long enough to grow into your potential."
The possessive note to her explanation was not unsurprising, for all her odd way of going about it, Taipan had always tried to teach him how to live in this savage world. Weakness was not long tolerated beyond civilization's walls and his partner made it clear that she would not accept it from him, not where she could correct his habits carried over from a tamed, peaceful, devastated world. No, his Shadow-Wife truly was looking out for his best interests, it was just that Iriel'en did not babysit. They parented like leopards, dragging a wounded prey to be released so that the cub had to learn to kill on its own, the scavengers held away by the parent's presence. Very much a sink or swim approach.
He realized then that this was the way of the Elves warrior castes in particular. All were expected to be able to defend themselves but the greater houses, who carried the burden of leadership amongst their people cultivated a far more aggressively competent mindset. Which was why, when it looked like things were going to get dicey, they hid their citizens away in the Sanctuaries. Orlethrem warrior's viewed themselves as the porcupine's spines, hard and sharp to guard the soft underbelly that was their noncombat classes. Other cultures would also mirror this worldview, he just hadn't so much met many of them. The barbarians hunting the criminals of their tribe were ones. Varrock was another, the old wolf had fought soldiers in their primes unarmed and had looked to have the upperhand until that Magister had used his catalyst based magic. Even Werona Autumnclaw, as close to a scholar as anyone Ulric had ever met had, when the fighting broke out, showed a savage fighting instinct.
"So, it's not such an uncommon thing to get beat up by a bunch of random goats in the countryside?" Ulric asked.
Taipan laughed, then groaned at the pain from doing so, and glibly took his legs out from under him, "Oh, no, I did not say that, Ulric. You put your nose in a wasp nest like a cub and were surprised to be stung! Even those bottom feeders we reaped in Trachn'ir would not have thought to walk down a group of beasts outnumbered."
Fair enough.
"Yeah, okay, laugh it up Taipan, I deserve it. I can't deny that I did a stupid." Ulric allowed, seeing no sense in denying the obvious.
His mate took some of the sting out of his failure, commiserating with him by a gentle reminder, "We Hunters must all of us be reminded at times not to become unwary or over confident. It was you that taught me humility at the side of my brother, that even the least of your enemies is still a foe and nothing can be taken at face value."
She fell silent and he reflected on that lesson again, really let it soak into the old noodle.
Varda punished mistakes. Frequently that punishment was for keeps.
"Would that I were well enough for it Ulric, I would lift your spirits with the making of 'whoopee' as you call it." His Shadow said with a sly tone.
She laid back slowly and rolled over onto her stomach, kicking her fine legs lightly, the subtle flex of muscle beneath supple flesh alluring. Ulric decided that two could play this game.
"Alas, my love, it is a shame. But I shan't mope," Ulric returned, rising to his feet with deliberate motions, "No, I think I could go for a touch of exercise to loosen up these stiff joints."
Then Ulric ran through his balance and strengthening exercises still in the buff, which he knew got his partner nicely riled up, her eyes following him hungrily as he went through the stances, holds, presses, and routines that showed off nicely his physique in the firelight.
When he finished, the Elf woman, hoisted on her own petard, accused him petulantly, "Tease!"
Pretending innocence, looking around briefly for the accused, the reforged man then smiled and squatted down next this leopardess wrapped in Elf skin, waggling his eyebrows, "Then don't start what you can't finish, Taipan."
Pouting lips, full and moist, parted to release a regretful sigh from the woman, "Haaah, it is what I deserve, Glade Chief. But know this, when I am well again, I am going to Husband you most thoroughly."
Ulric thought back to the sally from the Elf girl earlier, grinning, "Don't threaten me with a good time!"
