Osamaru Ta
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(AS) B2 - Lesson 60: "Appreciate Each Small Victory..."
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 19:27:11 +0000 UTCThe Mud Drake had no name.
What need had he of a name?
It had been over a century since he wrestled control of the river, tooth and fin, from the old tyrannical, fat catfish. Now he was Lord of the River. Tyrant of the Muddy Waves.
A century was only a blink of an eye for his kind, but it was long enough for him to grow… comfortable.
Why wouldn’t he? His river was full of tasty fish. His mud was pure and full of life. The pool of power outside his den grew in strength with each passing day, and in turn, so did he. Life was good.
Not that there weren’t those who sought to challenge his rule. When he was young, the tall tree dwellers occasionally threw things at him when he came to shore. They quickly learned the treetops could not protect them as they did from other threats.
The clanking claws of the northern falls put up a decent fight. Their metallic pinchers couldn’t cut his scales, but could crush and twist. The Lord of the River sometimes wished he hadn’t wiped them out. They had been rather tasty.
Even the swarming insects from the great walls stood no chance in front of his might. Though they, too, had tried several times. They would swarm his shores, steal his waters, and devour his stock. The Lord of the River would rage, crush their hard shells beneath his feet, and drive them off until the stupid beasts tried once more.
It helped that they were rather tasty as well. Not so much as the clanking claws, but such was life.
The bark-skinned two-legs were a more recent neighbor. They too soon learned not to stray too close to his river while he was around. But they were a sneaky lot, far more than the tall tree dwellers, and the Lord of the River could find signs of their trespassing from time to time.
Recently, a new type of two-leg had appeared. Bolder than their short, bark-skinned companions, these new two-legs quickly pulled the latter into their mischief. Now, instead of disturbed banks and cowering shadows among the trees, the two-legs had the audacity to dredge his river and steal his mud.
His frustration with the creature’s arrogance and disrespect was growing daily.
So when the small group arrived outside his den, the mighty Lord of the River nearly pounced and swallowed them whole.
… Or he would have had his attention not been instantly captivated by what they carried. Though the barrel was as large as one of the bark-skinned two-legs, it was only thimble-sized to the massive Mud Drake. Yet, as soon as the two-legs removed the lid, the Lord of the River’s attention was locked on the tiny container.
As the sweet, enticing scent of the glowing liquid contained within reached him, something primal awakened inside the Lord of the River. A deep, aching thirst he had never known before. A multi-colored mist of Spirit Energy billowing out from the barrel only added to the depth of his desire.
The Lord of the River roared.
The two-legs scattered, as was right, and the Lord of the River rushed out of his den. He had barely stepped outside before his jaws snapped closed around the barrel.
Sweet nectar flowed over his tongue and down his throat, sending waves of warm pleasure rippling through his body. He barely even noticed the splintered wood and twisted metal that accompanied it. The Lord of the River stood in front of his den and stared up at the vast cavern ceiling far above as the smooth Spirit Energy of the liquid spread out from his core. Another wave of pleasure washed through his body.
The Lord of the River lowered his gaze, then shook from head to tail. With slightly red eyes, the massive Mud Drake searched the area.
The Lord of the River froze the next moment as his eyes locked onto another barrel a dozen meters away. Inside glowed more of the sweet, sweet liquid.
He gave another roar and charged the second barrel, snapping it up as quickly as the first. Again, he wallowed in the feeling as the cool liquid infused his body with pleasure and power.
More.
He needed more.
Lucky for him, there was yet another barrel close by, nearer the treeline.
In the forest’s shadows, the Mud Drake could see the two-legs scurrying about, as they often did. Was this an offering of some sort? Had they finally realized his greatness and sought to appease his wrath?
Though the Lord of the River was not truly sapient, the echos of his ancestry whispered ancient vows to him. Oaths of protection — even if from himself — in exchange for tribute. It felt… right.
Maybe the two-legs weren’t so bad after all.
Without a second thought, the Lord of the River followed the trail of glowing nectar deeper into the forest, one barrel at a time.
——————————————————
Alpha followed behind the Mud Drake with a [Wasp] drone. The insect-like nanite drone flew silent and unseen behind the creature as it moved from barrel to barrel. Alpha’s growing mastery of spirit arrays allowed him to make his drones sleeker, more versatile, and cheaper. However, the AI had yet to solve the most glaring problem in his new drone design. They were far more detectable by the natives of this world.
So Alpha kept a small fleet of unmodified [Wasps] in reserve for just a situation as this. That was the preferable option until he discovered a better way of damping spiritual signals.
“Not that I would have needed it…” Alpha said to himself.
The Mud Drake seemed oblivious to anything else but the trail of spirit wine barrels left by the goblins.
“What was that?” asked Antchaser over the comms channel.
“Nothing,” responded Alpha. “It seems things are going well. Keep up the work.”
“Too well. The bloody drake’s barely giving us enough time to lay the next barrel!” Boarslayer said over the comms as well.
“It is kind of strange,” Antchaser contemplated. “I doubt it’s ever had a drop of alcohol in its life. Why such a powerful reaction?”
Dr. Maria joined the comms with a laugh. “That’s an easy one to answer,” she said. “Dragon blood is powerful. More so than any other bloodline. It’s part of why even the smallest amount of dragon blood in a bloodline can manifest and change its holder. Dragon blood’s memory is just as powerful, and with those instinctual memories come certain traits. Pride, greed, and a powerful thirst, among other things.”
She chuckled again. “There’s a reason that the powerful and arrogant are often associated with dragons, regardless of whether they actually have any dragon blood in them or not.”
Alpha considered the woman’s words with interest. Was it some kind of genetic memory? Whatever the case, Alpha wasn’t going to complain.
Half an hour and nearly three dozen barrels later, the bait team had successfully lured Mud Drake deep into the forest and quickly approached the trap.
“Showtime, people! They’re almost here.” Garrelt called to the waiting teams. Adventurers and Goblins scrambled to their positions. They were about to realize the culmination of nearly two weeks of meticulous planning, and their excitement was palpable.
For the goblins, the capture of the drake represented not only a distinct power shift in the cavern they called home, but a once-in-a-lifetime experience that many of them would brag about to their children and grandchildren in the years to come.
To the Adventurers, this was a chance to gain even more commendations for the expedition and gain favor with a powerful Dungeon Core. For many of them, the rewards they would gain from this expedition would be enough to push them over the edge they had been sitting on for years.
No one wanted to be the one to mess this up.
A moment later, the bait team — composed of Antchaser, Boarslayer, and several helpers — rushed into the clearing, sprinting as quickly as their legs could carry them. They dashed for the depot, where a small pond of spirit wine had formed from leaking barrels. Boarslayer heaved the final barrel she was carrying toward the treeline as the team split.
Less than a second later, the massive form of the Mud Drake burst into the clearing. It stumbled forward as if unsure of its own feet, yet still managed to reach out and snatch the wine barrel from midair before falling to the ground with a rumble.
It lay in the clearing, its eyes closed, nearly purring in contentment, spirit wine leaking from its closed maw. After a moment, the drake stood, swaying on unsteady feet. It opened bloodshot eyes and glanced around the clearing, searching for the next barrel.
When its eyes landed on the depot, and the small pond of spirit wine, the Mud Drake let loose a burst of spirit pressure that drove nearly all those hiding in the area to their knees. It roared and charged the depot with the desperation of a man dying from thirst, skidding to a stop only when it reached the edge.
The drake stared at the glowing, pale liquid with almost-reverence for a moment… before plunging its entire head under. It took deep, sucking drinks, the pool’s level visibly lowering with each one.
Robert stared at the sight, then grinning widely, stood from his hiding place and yelled,
“NOW!”
Several hidden Adventurers channeled their Spirit Energy, and deep thumps echoed from underground.
Even in its highly inebriated state, Mud Drake’s head shot up, its cat-like eyes narrowing. The alcohol has done its job, however. The beast’s reflexes had dulled enough that it didn’t have time to react when the ground under the depot — and several dozen meters surrounding it — suddenly collapsed.
“ARRAY TEAM! GO!” Robert ordered with a wave of his hand.
Half a dozen Adventurers rushed forward and stopped at the edge of the massive pit. Inside, the Mud Drake raged. Cutting beams of super-pressurized water sliced into the edges of the stone trap and flailed widely in the air, nearly clipping several of them.
The array team knelt at the edge of the trap and placed their hands on the ground, channeling their Spirit energy to activate the arrays contained inside.
The inner walls of the pit flashed to life, vibrant violet colors swirling in mesmerizing patterns. At the same time, the stone around the edges of the pit reached out, stretching over the pit like growing roots. The drake’s water beams would sometimes cut through the stone roots, but they would quickly be replaced. As the violent light of the sleep-inducing arrays intensified, the drake’s beams came less and less frequently.
Finally, the last of the violet light vanished as the top of the pit became fully encased in thick stone roots.
The ground still rumbled from time to time as the trapped drake continued to struggle. Soon, however, even that stopped.
The clearing was silent for a long moment; the only sound was the heavy breathing of the array team as they poured more energy into the arrays of the trap.
One of the Adventurers cheered. Then another. Like a dam breaking, Adventurers and goblins stood from their hiding spots and cheered, slapping each other on their backs. The expedition and village leadership walked forward.
“Reserves forward!” Garrelt called out, and another group of Adventurers rushed forward, replacing those at the edge. With the drake asleep, the strain to maintain the arrays would be less, but they would still need to swap in fresh people every so often.
A group of Earth Cultivators and Mages walked behind the reserve array team. Working together, the transport team lifted the massive stone container from the ground.
The leadership all exchanged wide smiles as people around them celebrated.
Now, all that was left was transporting the drake to the dungeon entrance.
They were at the last stretch.
Nothing could stop them now.
