The Mother of Monsters

The sun dipped beneath the trees long before the sounds of night began to work their way through the forest. The daytime hum of insects and the song of birds continued well into the coming darkness. It was only when night had truly fallen that other sounds began to fill the air. Crickets, the calls of larger beasts as they stalked the shadows, the whistle of the wind blowing harder as clouds moved overhead. Yet it wasn’t the sounds of the night that drew Teyva’s attention most. It was the sky. The stars above that spread out in a pattern she could not recognize. Not a single constellation she was familiar with glowed down at her in a way that she could sensibly point out.

Along her arm, the last remaining Mockeries of her first summoning clung to the fabric of her shirt; the faint shine of their smooth, false-gold surfaces glittering a little with the firelight. It was warm, though the smoke moved into her face more than she would rather appreciate; her eyes watering a little as it passed her by. She reached up and stroked the little creatures along their backs; little wriggles of appreciation were their only response. She wondered for a moment how much they needed to eat, if they had to go hunting on occasion, what kind of food they liked. Her expression went a little grim, it might have been wise to not use her loot power on all of the hunters' bodies.

She shook her head, since when had she started thinking like that?

In an effort to find a distraction she turned her attention back to a matter from earlier. The [Iron Shortsword] appeared in her hand with a quiet pop, the gleaming blade shining orange against the firelight. She turned it over in her hands and a prompt appeared;

Teyva looked up at the sleeping form of Azrael and back at the weapon. Azrael had already been more than a little unsettled by Teyva’s strangeness. Her teeth, her eyes, her wicked powers, now there was this. Was it going to be too much? Still, it seemed like a waste to her; leaving a power unused. More importantly, there was something she wanted to see. The description of the updated portion of [Simple Shift] had planted a nugget of an idea in her mind. One that she couldn’t just let go of. If it worked, it would be a game-changer.

“Maybe not a game-changer,” She said grimly. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her powers were just barely enough to survive. That stab wound would have been fatal if it hadn’t been for the synergy of her [Chill Touch] and even then she had blacked out afterward, bottoming out on Mana.

Speaking of Mana; she focused on her health, mana, and stamina, trying to bring only them to the front of her attention. If this system operated like most games she should have a- there! A trio of bars appeared in her field of vision. She concentrated on them and moved them out of her immediate line of sight; finding a place where she could comfortably keep an eye on them without being distracted.

She returned her attention to the weapon and made a decision, selecting yes.

At once the weapon began to liquefy, the blade beginning to curl in on itself as it seeped into her skin. It was cold, feeling like someone had poured ice water through her hands and into her bones. She grunted, gripping her wrist and trying to drop the weapon but it didn’t budge from her skin. “Why do all these damn powers hurt so much?” She demanded, clenching her teeth and trying not to bite her tongue. She’d nicked it with her razor-sharp teeth a few hours before and had found the experience to be less than stellar.

After only a few seconds of enduring an ache in her bones, the sensation faded and Teyva was left to catch her breath and collect herself. “Shit, I gotta do that every time?" She grumbled, rubbing her arm and realizing that she didn’t feel the small forms of her Mockeries resting on it. Glancing around she spotted them nearby on the ground, having scrambled away to watch her from a small patch of grass. She cracked a relieved smile, “There you are! What happened?”

They responded to her with a trembling that seemed to itch at the back of her mind. Reminding her of the odd mental connection they shared. “Oh, did I scare you?” She asked, rubbing her wrist, “I’m so sorry!” She crooned, reaching down with her good hand. After a few moments of hesitation, the small cluster sprouted legs again, crawling up her palm and onto her sleeve. “There you go, it’s okay! Momma’s not scary! See?” She said, urging them to return to a comfortable spot.

She paused and looked at her right hand where the sword had sunk completely into her skin. She held her arm up and examined her fingers; “Not to you, anyway,” She said in a lower voice.

Her yellow eyes flicked toward the still sleeping form of Azrael, making certain she hadn’t stirred before turning her attention to her experiment. She took a breath, held her arm out, and cast [Simple Shift].

She selected [Iron Shortsword]. The sensation of mana rapidly draining from her body sent a tingle through her, shifting from pins and needles to an uneasy, painless twisting as it reached her extended arm. It felt like her hand and fingers had become akin to modeling clay, stretching further and further in a grotesque show. She turned her head away; gritting her teeth again as the sensation became more intense. She felt the bones of her hand and wrist become harder; the nerves dulling and the sensation of having fingers fading to nothing. Finally, she opened her eyes when the feeling had passed.

She saw the sheen of steel. Starting at just below where her wrist began, her skin began to turn grey until it faded into the clear shine of metal. From there the blade extended out; a full weapon jutting out of her arm as if it were a part of her body. She rotated her arm, giving it a few experimental swings. The blade hissed through the air, sparkling in the firelight. A dull pressure tickled the back of her mind and she glanced over at a sea of curious eyes staring at her from her sleeve. She held up her arm, it wasn’t uncomfortable though it was a little heavy; “See that? Momma can do it too!”

One of the Mockeries extended its legs and scrambled down her arm into her palm. Its disk shape body wriggled and seemed to melt before reforming into the shape of a simple kitchen knife, its rounded edge pocked with small ridges for cutting. She laughed, wrapping her fingers around the living utensil and holding it up to the sky. “Look at you! Such a smart little darling! That’s right! Just like me!”

She lowered her bladed arm and relaxed, turning the Mockery over in her hand. It was warm to the touch despite appearing to be made of metal. She wondered if she really should be frightened by the little thing. Azrael certainly was, or at least when they had been made at first. She opened her hand and the creature returned to its coin-shape, crawling back up her arm to nestle in a comfortable spot. It was cute, what they were doing, and it warmed her heart. It was, however, a little inconvenient having coins just hanging off of her clothes. She’d need a better way to carry them; especially if she was going to create more.

She checked her MP, it was sitting at 49. She had some sort of passive regeneration at least, even if it was rather slow. That meant she could summon sixteen more Mockeries before she dipped past what she could handle. If she waited a few minutes between each summoning she could probably add a few more to that total. The question inevitably became how she was going to carry them around. Having over twenty coins clinging to her shirt seemed like a bad idea and a little too obvious, especially if they were eventually going to see civilization. The [Old Satchel] was probably a bad idea as well, she didn’t know if anything could survive in there and she wasn’t about to test it out on one of the Mockeries.

Sighing, she set the idea of creating more aside for the time being and returned her focus to her arm, giving it another experimental swing. “Yeah, that’s really cool,” She said, turning it over and raising it to a blocking pose, squinting at some unseen and imaginary enemy. “Beware, Teyva Akura is here!” She prattled, striking an obnoxious pose before lowering the weapon to her knee. “Yeah okay, maybe a little over the top,” She admitted, trying to gloss over the brief moment of insanity. That was when she remembered exactly why she wanted to test this spell out in the first place.

“Oh! Right!” She blurted, holding out her transformed arm and cast [Chill Touch].

At first, nothing happened. She felt the odd chill move up her arms, her left arm growing colder as the feeling spread to her fingertips. Her changed arm couldn’t feel much of anything, sensationally it was like a humongous fingernail. The temperature traveled up her right arm to her wrist before stopping, fading into the blade. She had the instinctive urge to flex her fingers though that accomplished nothing. Instead, she raised the sword and gave it a few more practice swings. That was when she noticed the difference.

A small, barely visible, trail of vapor followed the blade as she swung it, small patterns of frost beginning to take shape on its surface. She blinked, “It worked?”

She threw her arm into the air with a cheer; “Yes! It worked!”

A gasp and sudden rustle of movement nearby startled Teyva out of her celebration. She dropped her arm and turned, looking for the source. She found Azrael staring at her with bleary confusion in her eyes; “Is everything okay? Time to switch out?” Azrael asked.

“Oh, sorry, no, just got a little excited is all.”

Azrael shrugged, rolling over and going back to sleep; “Keep it down, then, you've been rambling all night.”

Teyva winced, making a note to apologize to Azrael later. She turned back to her mighty new arm, brandishing it to the world in silent challenge.