Bonded Summoner

Brock woke with a start, the tribe’s alarm bell ringing. Brock leaped from his bed and immediately began putting on his beast-hide equipment. He then grabbed his Amberwood glaive, his weapon of choice for his bulky stature. Brock wasn’t tall, but he was stocky and strong. He reviewed his status from [The Framework].

Brock Status Level 0

Strength

18

Dexterity

10

Constitution

21

Intelligence

9

Wisdom

19

Charisma

11

Brock looked over his stats with a sigh, the level zero glaring at him, mocking him. Among his people, few had chosen to integrate with the Framework. The promise was that they could raise in levels, and it would assist in raising skills, and push them towards awakening. Sadly, awakening their [Auril Heart] was something as spiritual as it was the will of the world to his people, and it did not appear that the Framework was helping them. However, it was really hard to tell, as his people had not used it for very long.

While some had awakened after joining the Framework, few could tell if it was thanks to it or from the deadly combat that came along with it. In their people’s history, most warriors awakened during combat or during strife, including high-stress situations. Brock wouldn’t be able to reach Level 1 until he awakened his [Auril Heart].

Brock looked over at his empty cot sadly. He had just come of age a few months ago, and he hadn’t had time to find a mate, or join a Clan. The constant fighting and fleeing from the outsiders had taken its toll on him, and many of the other warrior women had flocked to the few awakened warrior’s clans that were available.

He definitely wanted a strong warrior woman for his first mate, but unless he awakened, he would be a hard sell. Stronger women that had awakened themselves or hoped to, would rarely ever mate with an unawakened male, until they gave up on it for themselves.

They were told that the Framework wasn’t to blame for the outsiders, but it showed up at the same time as these horrible invaders. It was hard not to blame it for their current circumstances given that fact. Supposedly, there was a time when many of their people’s leaders and warriors had fought in secret against these invaders, but why didn’t they tell them about the impending invasion so that the tribes could prepare?

Still, the Framework’s promise of helping improve their combat skills was very real. Brock now had a prodigious mastery of his glaive after a handful of battles and days of training, and his skill could be compared to many of the warriors of old, just without auril. He had reached level three in his melee specialization in just the short month since the war began, and he had a hard time imagining how he could be much better than he already was. Brock could see the envy in his tribe mates that hadn’t integrated as they noticed him improving with every battle.

Brock jogged out of his tent and headed to the [Alliance HQ]. This was the only one active on their world now, the others being captured by the enemy. From what Brock understood, [Tartarus] was going all out to cut off reinforcements. While there was still nearly twenty percent of conquest remaining before it could initiate a raid, they had managed to go in a straight line and eliminate the Alliance HQ’s. They did this rather than conquering all the territory and killing more of their population.

Normally, such a strategy would never work, the defenders able to cut off these lines with ease and stomp the invasion for an easy win; surrounding the overextended armies. But with how all the Adventurers left and their difficult to traverse geography, it ended up sort of working.

At this rate, [Tartarus] would hardly even need the [Raid] to win. As far as Brock understood it, the [Raid] would give their people a chance to win, not that he thought for a moment that they would. Brock knew the adventurers that arrived were the only reason they had been holding on. The adventurer’s archers, mages, and healers were worth their weight in coin. The best of the adventurers had already left, deciding that this world was a lost cause. Even among those, Brock doubted they could win.

Brock arrived at the rallying point, observing the sky, praying for a sign that they would have a chance. Several tribes had fled here to their city of Kenwodi, having lost their own towns and villages. Many Tier 0 warriors and refugees alike now joined their cause, hoping to defend what, in his opinion, would be their final hope. Their cities' population swelled, and Brock guessed that there were over two hundred thousand souls now here in and around this city, and at least half that would be participating in this defense in one way or another: the other half being too tired and hungry to really participate.

Brock was far from smart, but he saw the writing on the wall. He could tell that the outsiders now attacked their weaknesses, and while his people adapted somewhat with adding javelins, bows, and shields to their list of things they trained with, it was too little too late. Few beastkin ever reached Tier 1 in their lifetime, and those warriors were like gods among beastkin. Yet they too fell to the more powerful leaders of the enemy armies, or their powerful creatures. Nearly every enemy that appeared was Tier 1 in strength, and while his awakened brethren fared well against them, they were far outnumbered.

The untamed land of the Highlands held various dangers, and the same creatures that would normally be in secluded areas and rarely hunted, were now sometimes being used against them.

Brock was not the only one looking at the surrounding horizons, yet the enemy was obvious, to the east. Once again, it would be a legion of undead. While not the only type of creatures [Tartarus] used, this was one of the most demoralizing enemies they faced. They had switched to them as the Adventurers started disappearing, and Brock thought it was because he had once seen an adventurer cleric destroy dozens of them in a single spell.

But now, he could see their fallen were being used against them, the strange skeletal creatures matching the gait of his people, and their ranks full of archers and skeletal mages. While few of his people used them in life, the undead versions of them had no problems sporting the ranged weapons or suddenly having the ability to use magic, their Auril Hearts gone.

At the rear of the thousands of enemies was a terrible Necromancer and a giant creature of bone. Brock didn’t know exactly what to make of it, but it was simply massive. It walked on all fours, and it had protrusions of bones out its back. Brock wasn’t sure what it was, but the Necromancer was bad enough on its own. It would raise his people from the dead, and unless they destroyed the skull of their already dead brethren, they would be reanimated to rise and fight them once again.

“Things aren’t looking good, are they, Brock?”

Brock turned to the familiar melodic voice, finding it to be Serena. The panther parentage woman had a look of fear on her face, as she looked to the east. The lithe woman wasn’t much shorter than him, and if there was a woman he wanted to be his first mate, it was her. They had fought together on several battles already, and she had taken to using the bow as of late with the assistance of the Framework due to its importance for hunting the outsiders. She still had her spear strapped to her back and a thick auril beast hide armor protecting her vitals. This huntress was fierce, practical, and deadly; things Brock valued highly.

Brock sighed, the rhythm of his speech taking on a hopeful cadence, “I hope the Ravenwolf Chieftess does come. I know she doesn’t look kindly to the Framework, but Adventurers are still an asset in the fight. Letting the outsiders close this last HQ means death. I pray she will see reason and help us.”

Serena bumped her hip against Brock’s in a move that was supposed to push him off balance slightly, but it took much more than that to move his sturdy body. “You just want to see that pretty tail as she flies around the battlefield and skewers her enemies, don't you?” Brock could tell Serena was trying to bring humor to the situation to calm her nerves, but knew as soon as she drew that bow, all fear would be gone.

Still, Brock took on a jokingly wistful expression, pretending to imagine that said pretty tail. It wasn’t hard, the ravenwolf chieftess being among the most desired among his people. She was of the ravenwolf tribe, a tribe descended from the hero that both led and saved their people from the first tyrants and beyond. If it wasn’t for her being awakened, Brock wouldn’t be able to help himself in imagining her as his first mate, but with her being so far above his strength, he wouldn’t dare.

To win an awakened woman’s heart would often require him to win a courtship duel against either her or her father, and that was simply not something that would ever happen for Brock. If her father was still alive, he was one of their Awakened Heroes that had reached what the Framework qualifies as Tier 1. For his people, it was simply evolving or advancing their Auril Heart to the next stage, and only the greatest warriors managed to accomplish this and still live.

“I knew it!” She swatted his shoulder, “Ow! What are you made of, anyway?”

Brock gave her a grin. His father was of armadillo parentage, and his mother of the buffalo. While he was not as strong as a bear or lion beastkin, he was plenty durable and sturdy, sporting some plated armor from his own body under and around his auril beast-hide armor. While most beastkin mainly took after one parent, some would take a little after both, so he sported horns from his mother’s parentage.

The Alliance HQ gave out a quest for defense, and Brock and the few others meandered towards the east side of the city, where the rest of his people were gathering for the defense. They had little more than a staked palisade fence for their wall, something that would not stop that giant bone creature for even a moment.

Refugees, women and children, and warriors alike, everyone would participate. This was a last stand for many, though there were many villages and towns scattered across the world that still stood. Many had nowhere else to go, and to flee would be death for them as well, as leaving this plateau for another was an arduous task.

Brock said to Serena, “Watch my back out there, would you?”

Serena took out her bow from the holster on her back with a smile and said, “As long as you watch mine, too. Go get 'em, Brock.”

Brock saw that he was right, seeing her expression change to one of a fierce predator as soon as she grabbed her bow. He moved towards the front of their formation, watching as the enemy legion approached. Many of his people now used shields, something that had been less common before the outsiders arrived.

Brock marched behind one of these shield users, as his people marched to meet the army of undead. His people moved with little thought, now used to these fights. Some Adventurers and the aid of the Framework had helped them build these combat habits. Now, they didn’t really need anybody to lead them any longer to accomplish the same goal, the war drums beating behind their army to set the pace. The people’s hearts found coordination in the beat, moving forward in harmony.

The skeletal army and the beastkin army eventually met, the line hundreds of people wide. Brock wasn’t sure what level the skeletons were, but the Adventurers told them that after they left, they should be in the lower end of Tier 1, thanks to nearly none of his people reaching it.

Arrows rained down on his people, as the many unawakened did their best to use their strength and skill to best the skeletal creatures. Many of the skeletons wore the same beast-hide armor the body likely had when it died, and used their same amberwood equipment. Others wore what looked like pathetic looking armor and weapons made of metal.

He fought alongside his brethren, taking advantage of the men and women with shields nearby. He swung his glaive and aimed for weak points, his attacks in cadence with his surrounding allies. Their hearts beat as one, singing the song of battle.

His people fought with fervor, their emotions built to the maximum. Brock could even see that someone awakened across the battlefield, their bodies covered in a colored sheen, a somewhat common event when thousands of his people gathered like this and fought. His people roared and cheered as they did their best to push the outsiders back, emboldened by the occurrence.

Arrows rained down from the skeleton archers, along with balls of flame and shards of ice from the skeletal mages. Brock was lucky in that his body provided extra protection, as while some arrows now pierced through his armor, they didn’t go very deep, and he could continue fighting.

Brock heard some more cheering, and looked over to the horizon. People within the battlegroup cheered.

“She’s here! They really came!”

Brock’s heart hammered in his chest, its rhythm taking on a new beat heralding excitement and joy, along with the rest of his people. Brock saw them, a veritable rainbow of flapping wings on the horizon. Once started as a rave of ravens, it was now a flock of various avian beastkin, filled with various ravens, falcon, hawk, and owl beastkin and more. There were thousands of them, but Brock knew that only a few hundred at most were awakened. Warriors all, they are the only reason that this world had not yet been defeated.

They, too, had taken to using bows and javelin, and their mobility had saved many tribes in their direst of moments. If they hadn’t delayed the enemy armies or saved his brethren, Brock himself would not be here to fight today, and the Necromancer would have been here days ago.

While traveling on the ground from plateau to plateau had been riddled with danger and effort, they could fly to even the furthest plateau in days or weeks, instead of the months it would take those on foot and claw.

Brock cheered as well, and redoubled his efforts to defeat the skeletons in front of him. He kept fighting through the endless horde, and just when he thought it would be time to for their allies to arrive, he heard many exclaim in fear.

“Oh no!”

“Just…what is that?”

Brock managed to see that the strange large creature of bone was now flying, the protrusions out of its back somehow being wings. How such things could allow it to achieve flight without there being anything connecting them Brock didn’t know, but it now flew right at the Chieftess’ flock, surrounded in a malevolent black aura. He wasn’t sure, but the Necromancer appeared to be the cause of it.

Fear washed over the battlegroup as his people screamed in terror, and Brock wanted nothing more than to flee. He felt like death was certain, and that he would die for nothing, fighting for this so-called Alliance. But he held on, his heart beating the song of courage, as he knew that if he or his people fled here, all that was waiting for Brock was death.

Brock watched as his formation began to crumble as many of his brethren fled, and he did everything he could just to keep himself from being overwhelmed by skeletal warriors, many surrounding him. In the corner of his eye, he saw Serena fighting valiantly with her spear, that side of the formation already having fallen back. His heart began to sing the song of bravery, beating in cadence with his desires to continue fighting.

Brock drew deep, and roared defiantly at the enemy as he swung his glaive, shattering bone and knocking skeletons away and into each other. He had dreams of greatness, of having a large family and Clan of his own, that he would one day protect and provide for. They would work together and find harmony in the wilderness, taming the lands and finding balance with it.

He desperately wished that those dreams not die here. His heart thundered in his chest, and his arms grew heavy as he fought with his everything to reach Serena. He took on cuts as he traded taking wounds for landing his own attacks as he moved through the melee.

Brock saw Serena get knocked to the ground, and he roared once more at the injustice, of all his efforts and struggle coming to nothing. His heart beat a hymn, a prayer filled with hope as he willed his body to move faster, to hit harder, to protect the one he cared about, that was still left. Brock now knew that he would die just from loss of blood, but he didn’t care. He would save Serena if it was the last thing he ever did, a final note in the anthem of his life.

Just as he thought he was going to die from a skeleton piercing his chest, his heart lit aflame, and it released a brilliant yellow light, one that embodied his hardiness and courage. His heart connected to his spirit, his life, and his will, becoming one. His heart sung a hymn of vindication, the will of the world itself answering his prayers. He received a flurry of notifications from the Framework, that he did his best to ignore for the time being, as he countered the skeleton in front of him, slashing it easily in half.

His will manifested, and his auril was finally released, filling his muscles with power. His wounds he took on began to heal at a rapid pace, and his heart sang, beating in his chest, releasing waves of life energy. Auril filled his beast-hide armor, strengthening it, and he willed it through his Amberwood glaive creating an even larger cutting edge at the tip than the weapon already had.

He launched himself through the air, and blasted away the skeleton that was about to attack Serena with an easy slash of his glaive. He continued his assault, and while he was filled with happiness and pride at finally awakening and becoming within the top five or ten percent of all warriors, he knew that not much had changed.

The strange magical fear released by the bone creature was eliminated for him, being filled with Auril, but Brock could see that the flock was not doing well against it. The javelins of the unawakened were not very effective, and it was breathing toxic green flames that the awakened flock did its best to avoid.

Even the chieftess looked hurt, burned in several places. She surrounded herself in her black Auril of the ravens, but Brock doubted the effectiveness of the Auril when used against the creature that was Death incarnate, for anything but defense or strengthening herself.

Brock saw the falcon beastkin’s blue aura and hawk beastkin’s red auras were more effective, but the black shield surrounding the creature still stood. Most of the hundred or so awakened swooped in for attacks with their weapons, but it didn’t look like a fight they were going to win.

Aside from that, the rest of the battlefield was not looking good either. The magical fear had broken many of their formations, and while the beastkin returned when the effect wore off, they were now completely out of position. They hadn’t even beaten back half of the horde of skeletons, let alone managed to deal with the flying bone creature or the Necromancer. Ballistas and catapults of their own from the Adventurers were being fired by the weakened refugees. These contraptions could do little more than slow the tide of creatures or barely harm the giant creature of bone, surrounded by the black shield as it was.

Serena retreated to use her bow once again, and Brock continued wading through the enemy, as his heart pulsed small amounts of Auril. Soon, he knew he would run out, as he was already starting to feel both tired and hungry. His heart was also newly awakened, and his allies were falling around him. He knew he would be overwhelmed once again. He then started hearing shouts of exclamation from the back of the formation, barely being able to hear it with his armadillo ears over the din of battle.

“What is that?”

“Who are they? Did more Adventurers come?”

“Another flock? But, there’s only three…”

Brock turned to look, and he saw… Brock wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking at, but the creature was simply massive. They were completely covered in armor, and they reminded Brock of the stories he heard about the Greater Naga that lived in the great oceans that could never be tamed. But Naga were little more than beasts, and while they often held weaponry and wore armor, it was not crafted with the mastery he saw before him.

Despite not making any sound he could identify, the giant snake-like-person blazed through their formation, slicing skeletons with their odd red and gold armor as they went. He heard many gasps in shock and fear from his brethren, as it appeared like they were just going to get run over by the giant creature. Oddly, the snake warrior’s body passed harmlessly over or around them, without displaying any visible effort on their part to avoid his brethren. A dark haze was released from where the warrior destroyed the skeletons, and that haze fell on the various nearby beastkin.

“What is this, I’m being healed?”

“I thought all the healers fled?”

The strange creature in red and gold was heading straight through the enemy ranks, right at the Necromancer’s army. This one creature was somehow giving hundreds of beastkin warriors reprieve across the battlefield, wading through the enemy army almost as if they weren’t even there. Bones scattered, weapons were deflected, and small explosions were left in the creature’s wake. Just what was this creature?

He looked to the sky, and saw three people flying in formation, two with wings. But they were not beastkin, from what he could tell. The first woman’s bronze wings looked reptilian, and aside from extremely rare reptile beastkin that mostly disappeared ages ago, such a beastkin did not exist in their world. While the other woman’s wings looked like they could pass for a snow owl or dove’s wings, she lacked the distinctive tail of feathers their avian beastkin men and women would have, and she certainly didn’t have taloned feet.

The third, Brock guessed a man, was flying through the air behind the women with a flaming winged shield. The flying women stopped, and the man somehow landed and stood in midair, just a dozen meters above the beastkin army between them.

The man wore what looked to be almost ostentatious armor, but he could tell both the man and the armor radiated power, making it not just for display. The man’s presence attracted one’s gaze, and Brock felt like if he looked away, he would still feel and know precisely where the man stood. He held some sort of spear mixed with a staff and a sturdy looking winged shield. The staff had a flame at the top, and gazing into the flame reminded him of his home, of his family, of many winters spent around the fireplace together for warmth.

Some letters of a mystical language appeared, and the man began to speak, his voice carrying easily across the battlefield.

“People of Highlands, I am Champion Jake Hart of the Goddess, Hestia. For weeks, you have fought these invaders as they shattered your homes, claimed your land, and destroyed your families. The Goddess has heard your prayers and desires to save your people, and sent me to carry out her will to protect and restore your communities, and eliminate the invaders.

I know you have a low opinion of Adventurers and of the Framework, but the Framework is the only chance we have for victory, and represents a path to power that must be taken. The enemy is too powerful to defeat without it.

My family and I will not flee. We swear on the Goddesses name of Hestia, that Clan Hart will enter a [Permanent Death Trial] before it would ever abandon this world to its fate, so long as we are welcomed into your community.”

Shouts of exclamation and surprise came from around Brock, and he saw golden shackles appear on the man and the women, even the snake warrior, his oath heard and enforced by [The Framework]. While Brock had heard that death in a [Trial] was not permanent, failure meant the person would still return, even if they were lesser in some way. But a permanent death trial had a larger impact on Conquest Progress, and the risks and difficulty were great, as they could die permanently. Even if Jake was a Champion, his Goddess would be unable to protect him from dying should he lose.

Brock found the man’s words interesting. His entire clan had just sworn an oath to fight to their death in defense of Brock’s people, so long as they could become a part of their communities. For his people, death is always permanent, so bringing him onto the same level as them, many would not think much of it. But risking his entire family in defense of theirs, many of his people would respect that very much.

The blackish shield was removed from the giant flying bone monstrosity, and the Necromancer and its mages appeared to be charging a massive attack. Brock’s fur stood on end, but the man continued to keep talking to them, paying it no attention. He felt like there was nothing more important to Jake than addressing his people.

“Your struggle has only just begun, but Clan Hart of the Hearthtribe and the Goddess Hestia are now with you. We will fight to our last to protect your families, and we all look forward to knowing and becoming a part of your community. We are with you until the end.”

The necromancer cast a massive deathly beam of energy right at the Champion and his two women in the air, the beam darkening the sky as it raced towards them. With a casual gesture of his staff, a large flaming barrier appeared, it’s bright flames meeting the giant beam, a loud boom ringing out. The barrier held and absorbed the attack, showing no signs of crumbling.

He then showed a predatory grin, “But I’m confident that it will be the end of them, instead. Those that spit in the face of family will be destroyed.”