The [ territory ] refreshed itself overnight, which made Hallvar feel a bit cheated out of their success culling the bahārim.

Where trails had been stamped down by adventurers passing through, there were now fresh swaths of wild plants and grass. It was fascinating, pristine and lovely in Hallvar's opinion, but a bit of a pain to trek through as the party left for the day.

On the way to their new quest, Grim reassured the hero that the cull was vitally necessary, as a respawn healed the land of any damage but did not remove existing fauna.

After asking about flora – if a respawn replaced all the flora as if part of the landscape or added new ones to the ecosystem – Hallvar was not particularly thrilled to learn about the existence of beastplants, mobile pseudo-flora.

Sure, their question was hinting at, like, if this patch of flowers always reappeared in the same place, or if a vetta tree or other rare plant was conjured up during the respawn that wasn't present in this [ territory ] previously.

Not monstrous plants. However, they learned that beastplants ranged from uncommon to rare in their spawn rate, with size contributing to rarity.

As the party neared the namesake of the[ territory ], Ikraam pointed out a few fluttering insects along the lake's edge – tiny beastplants with leaf-like wings that took advantage of the open air and bright sunlight while remaining mobile to avoid predation.

It was reassuring to know that beastplant did not translate to an apocalyptic plant-monster situation, as Hallvar had immediately thought. No fungi zombies, no thank you.

Their task today was simple.

This was the namesake lake lined with clay along its shores. While the clay was valuable on its own for ceramics. laundering, and cosmetics, there were deposits of minerals below the surface that required excavation.

Hallvar thought for a moment that they would be required to do the digging. A team full of adventurers, most of whom were presumably fit and somewhat strong? Of course they could wield a shovel.

That's how fieldwork happened in Hallvar's old world anyways – you brought in young, eager scientists and hard labor was just part of the job.

But it seemed this was simply guard duty, watching skilled workers and a few trained beasts dig through the compacted clay.

The guarding part came from the importance of the lake to the [ territory ]. While at least one stream and a few brooks passed through the [ territory ], the lake was still the main source of water for many beasts in the area.

With the respawn, the Post's authorities were unsure what beasts were present in the [ territory ] so it was advised that any exploratory group dispatched with at least one party of guards.

They had two parties on lookout duty – Grim's and another, who Hallvar watched with interest.

It had a similar composition of classes. Big weapon and shield, defender. Archer, long range melee. A staff wielder, a mage. Two sword and shield combo, fighters.

Hallvar wasn't able to chat with them, as they were positioned on opposite sides of the excavation crew, but still it was neat to see.

The hero really hadn't come across any other parties outside of Grim's. It would be unusual to be so isolated, if not for Hallvar's unusual circumstances – being kept in a castle, on top of the lack of communication ability early on. None of that led to great social relations.

Perhaps they were a bit ignorant too. These were likely guild adventurers whom Hallvar hadn't met yet; Grim casually mentioned that one of the fighters had new armor since last time, whenever that was.

Besides, thought Hallvar as they continued to make excuses, it was hard to recognize another party in public if the beastmaster didn't know their faces.

Hallvar thought about how many times they probably passed these adventurers, individually, in the market or on the street and thought nothing of it.

A twinge of embarrassment caused Hallvar to shake off that train of thought, lest they stew in shame for the rest of the trip.

There were beasts across the lake, drinking or lazing about near the water. Bruntekeros sunned on the rocks with their tank-like builds and reptilian scales, unperturbed by the presence of humans. Birds – especially those plicare birds with the oil slick heads and nap-interrupting squawks – dotted the shoreline as they picked at insects and minnows alike.

Pipkin was on the prowl at the moment. She'd spent half of her time here sunning and napping on a nearby rock; the other half the akergryph hunted minnows or insects in the brush.

The hours passed by in unremarkable contentment. No wild beasts dared to approach a group of twenty humans and half as many beasts of labor.

During Hallvar's watch, the others played a game with bones marked with symbols, gambling with little stones and nuts they picked up from the shore.

A few of the laborers were struggling against their oxen-beast, one of which decided to take a clay bath in the lake, coating itself with white-grey clay that would block sunlight and bugs alike.

Hallvar didn't blame it. They had a perch in the shade, but the sun was bright and the water looked nice and cool. And the clay kind of looked like sunscreen, in color at least.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They watched the treeline, idly contemplating if sunscreen existed in this world, or if something as scientific as skin cancer was an issue in a fantasy world with dragons and magic. Maybe it had a different name. Sun toxification. The burning lesion. Brightbli—

The beastmaster felt the internal press of alarm from Pipkin before their own threat instinct kicked in. Automatically, Hallvar let out an odd cough before the human brain overwhelmed the fish hawk sentiment, finding their vocal cords lacking.

"Heads up!" The beastmaster yelled in lieu of a warning screech, correcting quickly in case that was an old-world phrasing. "Something's happening!"

With the grace of her falcon half, Pipkin wove her way through the tree branches to Hallvar's shoulder, chirps of alarm coming from her tiny beak.

The surrounding adventurers took up arms, a few asking what was happening. Hallvar didn't know yet, but there was a strange noise approaching through the trees.

The oxen-beasts fled to the water, snorting and stomping in concern as the… the stampede made itself known.

These were the deer-elk things that Hallvar still didn't have a name for. Larger than normal deer, with fuzzy antlers that sometimes made circular rings above the beasts' heads.

Grim called for the adventurers to form a barrier; the deer things weren't interested in approaching the humans anyways, spooking at the sight of people and splitting the herd to encircle the lake as they ran.

None of the adventurers were tricked by the stampede. This wasn't the threat, not when something had to have started the chase to begin with.

Pipkin looked upward and screeched, noticing the sub-hearing cries that the humans missed. Hallvar saw the akergryph shift her posture from the corner of their eye and subsequently looked up to see—

Fuck.

"Gryphons!"

The beasts circled in the sky, diving and seeming to fight each other with screeches and leopard growls until something large slipped out of their grasps and fell.

A fireball from the mage barely missed the falling beast; the gryphon diving after it dodged nimbly, angrily screeching once it spotted the humans.

With a splash, the thing landed in the lake behind the excavation crew. It would be too easy if the falling beast was a deer-thing, but no.

Hundreds of undulating legs allowed the massive centipede to swim toward the convenient hiding hole that the humans dug for it, never mind that a human was still inside.

bad luck boon 3% chance failed

Okay, okay. Hallvar didn't want to be on giant centipede duty but it was better than gryphon duty. They didn't really have a choice in either, as without a second thought they immediately followed a sprinting Ikraam.

Save the miner. Got it.

Ikraam went for the centipede head, a green-silver dagger in hand. Instead of panicking, Hallvar wondered if that was a metal good against insect-beasts or some specialty poison coating.

They, of course, pulled out their own dagger and did what 6'2" adventurers should – threw their body weight onto the back of the centipede to slow the fucker down and give Ikraam a chance to murder the thing.

Their own dagger was useless against the armored back of the beast, but Hallvar stubbornly grabbed onto the horrifying, wriggling mass, dug their heels into the clay, and leaned backward to pull the thing away from the hole.

The points of the beast's nasty legs dug into Hallvar's clothing, ripping tiny holes and generally annoying the hero, but it didn't hurt as much as gross them out. They were sure that endurance had something to do with the lack of damage, but there wasn't enough brainpower available to check.

Dagmær yelled something in a foreign language. The centipede pulsed like it'd been hit, its movements slowing substantially.

When the wriggling finally fucking stopped, Hallvar looked to see Ikraam's dagger punched into the underside of the centipede's head through to the ground. When the rogue pulled, the weapon came out coated in brown ooze and white clay.

attribute increased: agility +1

Oh, so fighting Viktor didn't do it, but a damn centipede did?

There was no time to celebrate the kill or the increase. Not with gryphons around.

There were five, no, six in total.

While the centipede was being dispatched, a few flew toward the escaping herd, hoping to pick off a meal. The herd positioned themselves amongst the bruntekeros, who had armored skin and bellowed at the murder of gryphons.

No easy prey there.

So the gryphons turned their gaze back to the humans, several circling, the others landing nearby to assess the situation.

The mage produced a short wall of fire to deter the beasts, while the fighters banged their blades against the shields to make a ton of noise.

Hallvar remembered the dread they felt when they first met the gryphons. Interrupting mealtime had gained the hero the beastmaster class, but unfortunately none of their current skills were helpful in this moment.

The standoff was awkwardly long, twenty or thirty minutes of tension and yelling before the gryphons gave up on the humans. Too much armor, too many weapons, not enough meat.

That was enough for the laborers to call it a day. Everyone was on edge until the mineral baskets on the oxen were sealed shut and tied down, a sign that it was time to leave.

Hallvar kicked at the giant centipede corpse before leaving, wondering if the chitin was worth saving for armor. Startling the beastmaster, Pipkin leapt off their shoulder to pounce on a flicker of color unearthed by a centipede claw.

The human was able to clear off compacted clay to reveal a shiny stone, rough but clearly some kind of gemstone. Hallvar guessed it was a type of opal from the color, but what did they know?

They let Pipkin nip at it before pocketing the stone. It would make a nice trinket or another present for Stella. With all this shiny collecting, were they part fish hawk or crow?

Hallvar snorted and scratched the akergryph behind the ears as she perched on their shoulder. They started following the party back to Claylake Post, trailing at a distance so Hallvar could coo praise to Pipkin without feeling too self-conscious.

She was indeed a good girl today. Very smart. Very helpful.

The closer the adventurers got to exiting the [ territory ], the more lively they became. Tense quiet turned to jokes over time, laughing and making plans for a much-needed day off tomorrow.

Despite the fun, Hallvar couldn't escape the feeling of being watched, that instinctual threat radiating from some beast-like part of their mind.

The problem was that vultures and gryphons looked the same circling high, high up in the sky. The shape of wings barely visible against the clouds.

The beastmaster felt paranoid, even as they crashed for a pre-dinner nap.

It was hard to forget things they learned in their past life. These gryphons looked leopard-like, with spots and the sleek physique.

While it was rare for leopards to hunt during the day, and rarer still for them to hunt humans, there was a case to be made for man-eating leopards and their insistent predation on humans that interfered with their hunt.

What was it called? Kleptoparisitism. Humans stealing the kills of leopards almost always ended badly.

Perhaps those creatures couldn't conceptualize revenge but here? Where beasts could have magic? Perhaps anthropomorphizing animal behavior was a little bit truer than it was in the old world.

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