Chapter 212 (1/2)

Randidly found himself a corner and began to breath calmly, his attention focusing inward. He brought his consciousness down, and began to focus on his Soul Skill. His vision focused further, and images of the small creatures that were spreading to populate his world came into sharp relief.

Specifically, of all of the creatures, the ones that were the subject of Randidly’s examination were Annie’s creatures: the bug centaurs. But in addition to their insect like 4 lower legs, they also had two long and willowy arms. Their chitinous armor was grey, and as Randidly watched them, they leapt through the flatlands and rocky hills was an incredibly grace.

It reminded him of videos he had seen on Earth about mountain goats. Their movements seemed light, but there was an incredible amount of strength in their base at all times. In addition, they had a very thin and supple waist, which allowed their upper and lower halves to operate almost independently. So while their bottoms allowed them to stroll upwards on almost sheer cliff faces, their upper body could hold onto the primitive ranged weapons their people very quickly developed.

They threw thin reed spears and slung rocks to deadly effect. Luckily for Randidly, although he hadn’t directly used Arbor and Thorn’s life and meaning, it had worked itself into his Soul Skill, and small plant creatures filled the world, forming the bottom of the ecosystem that allowed the more advanced creatures to prosper.

It felt lucky, and incredibly so, which made Randidly sweat. He didn’t want this to be the final version of his Soul Skill, and he already had some ideas about how he could improve it. But he swore to himself that he would spend a lot more time researching ecosystems and climates before he made any great changes.

So he watched these strange, mostly silent, murderous bug centaurs and their flexible movements. Randidly watched them for a long time, fully 6 hours.

Then his eyes opened slowly, and his eyes were a bright, impossibly vivid emerald. Aether began to circulate in his chest rapidly.

*****

Claptrap was slightly infuriated to discover that today, as they arrived at the viewing area for the second part of the preliminaries, there were already 4 other small carts set up, offering portable snacks to the watchers. It was only after he set up his stand, and secretly sent an assitant to buy the competition, did Claptrap relax.

Their food was quick, but it possessed none of the almost animalistic appeal that the Ghosthound’s recipes did. Claptrap wasn’t sure how the man had done it, in addition to training in the spear and Engraving at such a high level, but everything that the Ghosthound touched turned to gold.

Besides, although the others had tried to copy his food, Claptrap had gone last night with his brewer associate, and quickly approached all brewers in Deardun, letting them know what was going on. By 4 AM, after Claptrap and the woman had flashed some of the gold they had made, they had established Deardun’s first ever Brewing Association, as an independent entity from the Merchant Association.

The brewers were skeptical, but intrigued, by the volume of ale that the female brewer had managed to sell yesterday alone, and agreed to see whether it really was as good as Claptrap claimed. So now Claptrap had almost 40 different types of alcohol from 7 different brewers, and more waiting in the wings.

It was perhaps just a coincidence, but as Claptrap was trying to create a giant chalk board that morning, as they were preparing to head over to the viewing area, the Ghosthound had walked past and asked him what he was doing.

Claptrap, frothing at the mouth at his status at the head of this new business venture, hurriedly explained.

Then the Ghosthound shook his head. “No, don’t bother with all at once. Just have 8 at a time. Tell customers that they are on rotation, and when the casks run out, it will switch to something else, so they should buy what they want now, before it runs out. A deadline makes people more willing to buy. Oh, and don’t bother with these long explanations; you just need three things on a board like this: The Brewer, the name of the beer, and the color or base for the drink. For example, “amber” or “stout” or “apple cider”...”

Some of the words that the Ghousthound used Claptrap was unfamiliar with, but he was furiously scribbling notes. At one point the Ghosthound fell silent, as if pondering something, and Claptrap gazed at him with growing concern.

“Is…. Is something wrong….?” Claptrap muttered.