Day 15 of the Scorchpaths trek.
Clayton clung to the volcanic ledge, the Earthcore Nexus’s pulse a relentless drum as the Behemorph stampede roared below.
The sound of the stampede felt like the rumbling growl of so primordial horror, a Behemorph maybe who just woke up from a millennia of slumber.
The vibrations of the earth seeped under their skin, making their bone weak.
Torren’s face was tense.
Lorn closed her eyes and muttered a prayer. Kaelin cursed.
Clayton’s Shedskin cloaked his Verdant Lord aura as a scavenger’s rags, Regalia of the Verdant Warden in bow form ready for bone or root arrows, Thornshade Dagger humming at his hip.
Like the others, he was also tense, as he dealt with the constant paranoia that sothing would stumble upon their hiding spot.
The tension among the team of adventurers was palpable.
Their Mycoglyph-etched pagers flickered, strained by Nexus’s chaos.
Amid the chaotic cacophony of the Behemorph stampede, and the residual shockwaves and vibrations of the distant Verdant Warden battle, Clayton’s Aphid Network, now 48 minions after losses, hunted the stampede’s fringes.
Of course, the Behemorph stampede didn’t just affect them, it also affected the Behemorphs subordinated to Clayton.
But as much as it was a risk to his Aphid Network, it was also an opportunity, another risk-reward gamble that Clayton took.
Instead of commanding his minions to hide through his Symbiotic Command, he let them loose, deciding to accept the gamble.
And so, amid the stampede, the Aphid Network hunted, taking advantage of the chaotic nature of the stampede and the frightened mind state of the Behemorphs running for their lives.
The Spore Plague Lord and Ashbloom Stalker led the way for the others, reaping Embers, though three Initiate Ember minions fell to the crush.
The Rootsite stood far behind, a fortified anchor, the Verdant Lord form staying rooted with the rest of the minions as its willing guards.
The chasm quaked, lava flows splitting rock, the Verdant Warden Thorn Crown Behemorphs’ distant clash- gigantic 50-ter titans driving the stampede.
For the mont, they were safe, but they did not know for how long.
That uncertainty gnawed at their sanity.
Thinking of sothing to redy the situation, Clayton blurted out. "Boss, you didn’t complete the story".
Torren glared at Clayton, too tense to rebuke him for calling him ’boss’ again despite his repeated warning. "Huh?"
Clayton just stared at him.
Torren rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Which story?"
Clayton flashed a mischievous grin. "The Scorched Clans". He shouted a bit this ti so his voice would be heard amid all the noise.
Torren groaned. "Really? Right now?"
"Yes," Clayton nodded exuberantly. "If not now, when? We’re free, can’t you see? What better ti to tell stories than when holed up in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a Behemorph stampede, and 2 Verdant Warden Behemorphs fighting in the distance?"
"It’s the end of the world, rember?" He grinned.
Torren paused, a stunned expression on his face.
Then he chuckled. "What a sweet tongue you’ve got". He laughed. "Well, when you put it like that, I do feel in story-telling mood all of a sudden".
The others just looked at them.
Sohow, Clayton’s story-telling initiative managed to distract them from their harrowing situation, easing the tension in the air.
Torren started.
"Well, I think the last thing I told you about the Scorched Clans was their culture and their beliefs".
"This ti, let tell you about their structure and organization".
"Boss..."
Torren glared at Clayton again, annoyed at being interrupted, but he asked. "What?"
"How do you know so much about the Scorched Clans?"
Torren stared at Clayton for longer this ti, then he chuckled. "Hehe. Simple really, I was once part of them".
"..."
Now, it was the others’ turn to stare.
From their reactions, Clayton could tell that they also didn’t know before now. Suddenly, he was even more intrigued about Torren’s background.
Torren continued.
"Well, the Scorched Clans are decentralized, comprising nomadic bands of 50 to 200 mbers each. Like I told you earlier, they are led by a Scorchlord or Scorchlady with a Luminous Seed or Verdant Warden Aspect".
"Bands operate independently but unite for major raids or against Verdant Warden Behemorphs, guided by a loose council of elders called the Elder Conclave, who convene at volcanic Scorchshrines".
"Like you should have known by now, mbers of certain groups and factions have a higher probability of awakening certain Aspects than others".
"Common Aspects among the Scorched Clans include Pyreblade Fury, Initiate Ember. It allows wielders to conjure flaming blades, ideal for close combat".
"Kaelin’s Ashveil Shroud that summons ash clouds for stealth and disorientation is also common among the Scorched Clans".
"Each band maintains a Flakeeper, an Awakened who tends a sacred fire, believed to commune with the Earthcore Nexus".
"As for their territory and influence," Torren’s voice turned a little lancholic. "They’re terrifyingly powerful, especially in these regions".
"They dominate all the way to the Scorchpaths; from the volcanic routes stretching across forr North Arica, the Appalachians and to the Mississippi Basin, ford by Nexus-driven eruptions".
"These ash-choked, lava-veined trails are littered with fungal ruins and Behemorph lairs, making them deadly but resource-rich. They’re all Scorched Clans territory".
"The Clans raid Rootbound settlents, Ironblood outposts, and neutral enclaves, trading Embers with Africa’s Ashen Covenants, whose fire-based culture aligns with their own".
"And of course, they avoid Antarctica’s Behemorph hives but skirmish with Verdant Warden titans, seeking their Embers to fuel Scorched Relics".
"Their presence in the Scorchpaths makes them a looming threat to Clayton’s journey".
At the end, Clayton just stared at Torren.
"Wow, you really know your history".
Torren smirked. "Who do you think I am? I was a historian before I beca an adventurer".
"Liar". Lorn said, making the others burst out laughing.
Like Clayton intended, Torren’s story eased the nerves of the adventurer party, making them calm and thinking straight again.
They needed it, because the calm didn’t last long.
Thud! Thud!
"Approach!" Clayton warned as he detected them first through his Territorial Sentience.
Twelve Initiate Ember Thorn Hounds (3-ter spiked canines of the Ash crown) broke from the herd, charging the ledge, fangs dripping molten venom.
"Hold tight!" Torren shouted, getting ready for battle.
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