He did finally fall asleep, but it took him quite a while. Ina had held onto him, just like she had done as kit, though with considerably more strength. When he woke, he found himself in a jumbled pile of furred limbs and tails. When he went to move, she wouldn’t let him go. He sent an ‘loud’ message through their bond, which had woken her. Upon waking she had yawned and sprung up, not even bothering to apologize to him for the sleep she had robbed him of, or apologize for when she had nearly smothered him. He shook his head, and tried to let it all go. He had to focus on what was before them
He mentally counted the work cycles in his head. Four cycles in travel, four cycles scouting, two cycles dealing with.. whatever had happened to them. Another cycle spent recovering and traveling. That left him… four whole cycles to figure out his Class, his Path, and get ready for an entire rotation in the Wilds. He hoped these women would be strong enough to protect him. He hoped they cared enough to protect him. Even with Ina’s improvements, not to mention his own, a rotation was a terrifying prospect. There were greater beasts who only left their dens during nights, other beasts grew stronger and more vicious during night cycles. The night period of a rotation lasted five cycles worth of time, each of these were called night cycles. Five cycles with no sun. Five cycles of free-for-all fights over territory and resources. Some greater beasts only ate during night cycles and only ate the flesh of other greater beasts, or humans of course.
His thoughts took a darker turn, and he considered the grimoire in his bag. He had wrapped it in thick leaves, but he doubt they would prevent any sort of aura from leaking out. On the brighter side, after he had used it, it had gone dark. It no longer leaked power, it no longer looked like anything more than a used grimoire. He thought it might be be safe, but he couldn’t be sure. He had no idea what would set the thing off again.
He had to open it again, of course. He craved the knowledge it might hold. He had thought about it often in the last cycle, as they recovered and moved away from the scene of carnage they left behind. The feeling it had given him, right there at the very end, as he was about to die, was bizarre. He had needed to possess it, to control it, to own it. He loved books, but he had never had an all-consuming desire for one. Just thinking of that feeling, just holding the grimoire in his hands, pulled at this rationality. Even holding it now seemed to bring back a memory of the feeling, whatever it was.
He tried to tear his mind away from it, its temptation, and instead focused on Ina. She had always been his rock, his stable foundation. She was lazily lounging on her side, warming herself in a rare sunny spot. She was eating some salted rhino meat he had packed away for lunch. She felt his attention and looked back at him over her shoulder, her eyes catching his. He couldn’t understand her expression. Her face was new to him, beautiful in a way. She drew him in a way that he have never experienced before. She was so strong, stronger than him, but she was also his, as he was hers. He could feel his face heat up and his emotions begin to spill over into the bond, his vision seemed to darken and narrow. Ina stood up and began to stalk closer to him, responding in some way to what she felt over the bond.
“Dem, do you need..” Her voice bottomless in tone, smooth as a placid lake. Her eyes locked on him.
The grimoire slipped out of his hands, and he sprung to his feet, feeling like he had just woken from a dream. Like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
He interrupted her, “No, Ina. I just need a moment. I’m sorry Ina, none of this makes sense to me any more.” His tone was sad and apologetic.
“I am going to go for a walk.” He grabbed the grimoire and walked further away into the shade. She watched as he retreated, not saying anything.
***
He was horrified. He was disgusted. He had seriously considered.. with a beastwoman.. with Ina.. If he had given in, he would be exactly what people spat at him once they learned what he had wanted to become, what Class he was now. Tamers were known for.. mixing their blood with.. well, with anything they could tame. The Church of the Divine Humanity did not look kindly on blood mixing with beasts or the other races. Humans, beasts, and the other races could breed true potentially, but in practice it was difficult. Half-breeds were rare in the human realm. Tamers were tolerated in the more chaotic outermost human kingdoms, and on the borders of the True Human Realm. They moved through places like the Wilds, on very outskirts of the borderlands, getting work as adventurers, ‘taming’ as they went.
His Class wasn’t respected. He technically could have chosen a Ranger Class that could eventually bond a single beast, but he didn’t have the talent for the Wilderness Paths required to be a ranger apprentice, or the money for the far more expensive grimoire. He had instead focused his time totally on his teamwork with Ina. On buffing her with spells, on planning tactics with her. She was his best friend, and now.. now something had changed, something beyond Ina’s form, something inside of him. Was he a pervert now? He had always been interested in women. Even particularly effeminate men gave him.. feelings. He remembered the first time he had met someone whose Path had pushed them towards androgyny. He had been confused for a week about what it meant.
He had never had the time for seeking a wife, and most people would reject a Tamer as a marriage partner. What spouse wanted to compete with powerful beast for the attention, and perhaps affections, of the Tamer? Would a Tamer even want a spouse? The bond was as deep a connection as spells could provide. It was deeper than a spelled marriage ceremony conducted before the Altar of Humanity. You could share everything through it if you wanted.
The rumors about Tamers had colored most of his life as an adolescence. Once it became clear what he wanted for his Class, people had laughed at him behind his back and to his face. The only thing worse than being a Tamer, was being a Tamer and a woman. The rumors about women Tamers were vile and physically impossible. It had made him sick when someone had mentioned what they thought women Tamer’s did with their beastmen to him as a joke. He had swore he wasn’t like that. He swore he would have no interest in beastwomen, that he only needed Ina, but.. now things had changed.
His eyes once again shifted to the grimoire. Hesitantly, he opened it. They were still far from even the furthest hunter’s trails. No Classed people went this way often, so it should still be safe, in the odd case something fantastic happened.
Of course, nothing happened. No fancy glow, or aura peeked out from in between the pages. Its previous words were still on the first page. At least he could review the rare answer he got from the grimoire. He began to formulate new questions to ask, knowing it wouldn’t answer his most important question.
***
… Moderate Heal Wounds does not stack with Minor Regeneration fully. If you use both spells at the same time Minor Regeneration will only work at 50% of its potential in the area you are directing the Moderate Heal Wounds to heal.
His current round of questions had only gotten him random technical knowledge about the spells he could currently use. Nothing about the spells he couldn’t use. Not even their names. Nothing about his new Class. He needed, desperately, to figure out his Path. His Path would lead him to his Class he felt. One’s Path always came first. Problematically, he had little to go on. The grimoire had told him virtually nothing.
Frustration almost overwhelmed him. First there was almost dying, then this new Class and Path he didn’t understand, and now his.. unnatural feelings. He needed to make sense of what was going on, and soon, so he could earn some gold. Gold that get his parents to safety.
He tried to examine everything that happened piece by piece. Why had he almost died? He had underestimated an elder greater beast. Their plan had basically amounted to falling right into trap, on purpose. In the future, Ina and he needed to make sure to never plan to do what their opponent already wanted them to do. They needed to change the game, not play the game. Was his almost dying related to the grimoire? To his Path? He launched into a flurry of new questions.
“Did you intend to save us?”
No answer.
“Is my new Path related to almost dying?”
No answer.
“Is it related to killing beast? Being killed by beasts? Viper-wyrms?”
No answer.
“Was I the intended recipient? Were you meant to come to me?”
No answer.
“Were you suppose to go to someone you could save from dying?”
No answer.
“Am I special in some way?”
No answer.
“Was it because I gave up? Was it because I broke with my previous Path at the end of my life?”
No answer.
Some of these questions were hard for him to even ask. Searching for one’s Path normally meant total honesty with oneself. Brutal honesty at times. This situation was far from normal.
Round and round he went, no questions related to his situation at the moment of receiving the grimoire merited a response. Next he just sat down and practiced some introspection. He examined his almost dying relative to his feelings towards Ina. Did he have these feelings because they had almost died? Was he secretly afraid of dying having never touched a woman? Was he really that weak? Was it just her new form? Was he attracted to beastwomen in general?
As near as he could tell the answer to all these questions, was no. He almost died a couple of times out in the Wilds, it was a dangerous place. None of this incidents caused him to have strange behavior or think strange thoughts. Dying a virgin was, again, a common thing in the Wilds. Lesser beasts stole children and ate them, people died every night cycle. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and he didn’t believe he had ever really been ashamed of being a Tamer. He didn’t like what other people said to him, but he always knew his motives were pure.. until now anyway. He had seen other beastowmen, from a distance of course, but enough to know he hadn’t been particularly attracted to them. They wore less clothes than Ina wore now in some cases.
Could he ask the grimoire personal questions about himself? Would it know?
“Am I a pervert?”
No answer.
He laughed bitterly. Tears of frustration built in his eyes. His questions were absurd, and humiliating, but he had nothing to go on. Still thinking deeply, he tried a different combination of pieces. He would try finding a connection between his new feelings and whatever the grimoire had done to him and his Path.
“Is my Path, the Path of the Pervert?”
No answer.
“How about Path of the Beastfucker?”
No answer.
“I need a hint here grimoire, anything to help me. I don’t understand.”
No answer.
“Is there a connection between my Path and how I feel?”
“Is there a conn..”
Of course.
He had been firing question at such a rapid fire rate, he almost hadn’t noticed when it actually responded.
He had to confirm.
“There is a connection between my new feelings and my Path.”
No answer.
Perhaps it had no way of knowing what feelings were ‘new’. So he tried again.
“Is there a connection between my Path and my current feelings.”
Yes.
He thought about this response. There was, of course, always a connection between one’s Path and one’s feelings. The feelings drove a person’s intent, and the intent shaped the Path. The actions one took drove one down the Path or not. The grimoire might just be telling him something basic he already knew. He had to ask a better question.
“Which feelings are connected to my Path?”
You have already been given a sample.
“When was I given this sample? What was the sample?”
When you held this grimoire for the first time, and every time after.
This was.. an answer. He felt a lot of things when he held the grimoire, both when he first saw it, and even now. Was it greed? He had desperately wanted to possess the grimoire. Was it despair?
“Is my Path one of Greed?”
No answer.
“Is my Path one of Despair?”
No answer.
How to define the feeling he originally had towards the grimoire? He wanted to possess it. To own it, to deny another’s ownership of it even when it would have made no difference. He had opened, taking in spell templates and insights, just to deny someone else the chance. As he began to consider his feelings and make connections, a pit began to open in his stomach, dread crept into his mind. His new Class was compatible with a Tamer, and therefore his new Path must also be compatible with the Taming of beasts in someway. He could still power his spells with the progress he had made on his previous Path, that would only happen if everything fit together at least loosely. Something like taming, but it evoked sense possession? Of ownership?
“Is my Path one of Ownership?”
No answer.
“Is it a Path of Possession?”
No answer.
“Is it a Path of Wanting More?”
No answer.
There was a key word he was missing. Something that would bring all of this together into a single Path. A word that would forge a singular intent in his mind. He was making progress, but that pit only grew larger as he eliminated possibilities. The dread built in his heart. The answer, whatever it was, was at the core of his current issues. Did this Path apply to his feelings toward ina? Did he want to possess her? Own her? He already did, in a way. The bond went both ways though, she owned him and possessed him in equal measure. There were other kinds of bonds, slave bonds, they went one direction, but they weren’t anything he had any use for. The kind of bond he had with Ina was far more effective, and helped him advance his previous Path. He almost couldn’t ask..
“Is my Path.. the Path of the Slaver?”
No answer.
He signed with no small amount of relief. He abhorred slavery. It was a dark twisted mirror of the mutualism he had developed as his own Path previously.
Did he need a thesaurus? A list of possible Paths? Such books existed, though looking through one to find out something one should know instinctively about one’s own feelings, was silly.
It had to be something like greed, or possessing, or wanting, or owning. Those were the most vivid feelings he had from the grimoire. They would also explain his.. urges.
A word occurred to him, it felt silly to say, as it was almost too much, too overbearing. Something only an over-confident idiot would choose as a Path, but he asked to get it out of the way.
“Is it the Path of Domination?”
The feeling of dread had peaked with the question about the Path of Slavery. He had started to relax. This question was just perfunctory. What other words did he…
So begins your first step down the Path.
Toad Tales 