Common Clay

Clay waited in the Tanglewood.

Mud covered his boots and clothes; just because the rain had stopped the day before didn’t mean that the ground wasn’t still a morass of puddles and mires. The sky was clear and blue, from what he could see of it through the leaves, but that didn’t help him feel more confident about his situation. If anything, he would have preferred a little more shadow.

He was watching a spot where he’d laid a dead troll spiderling. The thing had been easy to hunt, especially after the rain had cleared. It was easy to look back and remember a time when he had been afraid of the things, and when one could have ended him as easily as he now ended them, but now…now he had so much more to worry about than a single spiderling.

The work to prepare the trap had happened far before that kill. He’d created the trap first, and then tracked down the creature he needed to use for bait. It had been a bit…unnerving to carry the corpse for the distance required, but sacrifices were necessary. His discomfort was a small price to pay to see a bigger monster die.

Clay saw the monster in question appear out of the corner of his eye. Between one glance and the next, a suspicious pile of leaves appeared, crouching just within his sight. It was gone a moment later, and he saw a flicker of movement behind a tree. Then another, and the leaves were back, close to the dead spiderling.

He licked his lips as the mantrap spider drew closer to the corpse. His fingers tightened on his spear; he was sure that if it failed, the spider would look for him, and even if he wasn’t entirely sure the spear would be enough, he had no intention of giving up without a fight. Of course, it would be far more convenient if he never even needed to move. Time would tell.

The mantrap jumped closer, then closer again. His breath grew short, watching it with bated breath. Had it seen through his attempt? Was it looking around for him in the woods?

Clay saw it gather itself for another leap and held his breath. Would it work? Would the thing be jumping for him next?

The spider pounced. It struck the corpse. Then it vanished.

There was a sound like a squeal melded with a cough. It cut off a moment later. Clay waited for it to reappear.

It didn’t. Still holding his breath, he crept forward, still holding his spear. He heard spiked legs scrabbling at dirt, heard the wet sounds of something thrashing in the mud, and forced himself not to rush in. Better to be cautious and not allow himself to be lured into a trap.

He was halfway to the trap when the notification arrived.

{Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}

The tension left him in a sudden, incredulous explosion of air. Clay stepped forward confidently now, and looked over the edge of the hole he’d dug.

The monster was lying near the bottom, partially impaled on the stakes he’d set into the floor of the pit. It was obvious the initial strikes hadn’t killed it instantly; the thing’s death throes had torn and fragmented the net below it. None of the stakes had even pierced all the way through the thing, and he was reasonably certain that the fact that it hadn’t been able to find any purchase for its legs had eventually killed it when it couldn’t push itself off the spikes.

Still, it was dead. It was dead, and he hadn’t had to put himself at risk to kill it, and it had given him three times as much Soul as the smaller versions. Clay had been half worried that he still wouldn’t receive anything for the kill, but the older versions counted as a new kind of monster. If he could manage to kill another four, he’d reach the next level in no time.

The problem was, he probably wasn’t going to be able to repeat it. He’d spent nearly two hours digging the hole, two hours where he had to stay in one spot to prepare the ground. If something had caught him while he was halfway down the hole, things could have gone badly for him.

Worse, it looked as if each time he pulled this particular trick, it would cost him a net. He could try to replace it, but the baron’s money wasn’t infinite, and making one himself was going to be…difficult. If he was going to kill more of these things, he’d need to find another way. Something quicker and cleaner, something he could repeat.

Clay shook his head and backed away from the pit. He would be back to check on it later, but if something bigger was going to show up and feed on the corpse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be here. There was other prey to find, after all.

Another two and a half hours later, Clay was waiting beside another tree, this time watching over the corpse of a mantrap spiderling. Once again, he’d prepared the trap first, and then gone out to locate the bait. Killing and transporting the thing was no less uncomfortable, but he knew it was better than trying to face one of the mature monsters head on.

It was a relief when he saw branches move aside. They parted to reveal the same kind of long-limbed horror that had descended on the last mantrap spiderling corpse he’d seen. The troll spider glided down on the fresh kill silently. There was no sign that the creature suspected anything was out of the ordinary, aside from a slight pause as it regarded the corpse. Whatever had made it nervous, it continued to descend.

Unlike the mantrap, it did not launch itself on the corpse. Just like before, it reached out with its forelimbs, a length of webbing already stretched between them. It began to wrap the corpse, turning it over and over again to coat it with the strands. The motion was curiously calming to watch, even as Clay braced himself for the next move.

Just as it lifted the wrapped package in its limbs, Clay kicked the stake he had been holding out of the ground. The sapling he had tied it to sprang upright, yanking hard on the rope he had fastened to it.

He had tied the rope into a lasso, the one that had nails pounded through it. It wrapped itself around the monster a heartbeat later, catching its middle two sets of limbs in the process. They snapped, with a sound like brittle tree branches breaking after an ice storm. He heard a screech unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, a grating vibration that went far beyond what he could actually hear. The troll spider dropped the wrapped corpse and writhed, trying to free itself. Nails dug into its flesh, preventing it from escaping.

Clay came out from his hiding place, nocking an arrow. He loosed the first broadhead shaft before the thing had finished screaming. It struck the monster in its belly, and it writhed even more, trying to twist around to leap at him. The lasso dug deeper into it, keeping it steady, and Clay fired a second arrow, hitting just to the side of the first. His ears burned as the thing shrieked again.

It was taking too long. If it thrashed much more, the rope would come loose, and broken limbs or not, that would make it far too dangerous.

Clay set aside his bow and took up his spear. He crossed the distance separating him from the monster, raising his weapon to strike it.

The thing sensed him coming. It paused in its attempts to get free, and then its abdomen twitched. Clay shouted in surprise as a lance of webbing shot out, wrapping itself around his lower leg. Clay had just enough time to try to pull back before the spider pulled, yanking him off his feet. He was dragged halfway across the ground before he realized it.

Panic flooded him as he frantically tried to free himself. Kicking at it did no good. When he freed his axe from his belt loop, he hacked at the webbing, but the sharp edge of the axe just rebounded. He tried again, with the same result. The spider shrieked a third time, and this time there was something more in that cry. Something triumphant.

Fear gave him strength, and Clay snarled as he brought the axe down one last time. This strike cut through the webbing at last, and he shouted as he scrambled backwards. The spider continued to reel in its webbing for a moment, and then it paused. Clay had a single heartbeat to realize that he was already too close, and then the thing lashed out with its hindmost limbs.

He managed to roll to the side just before one spiked limb stabbed down. It dug a deep furrow in the dirt right beside him, and he rolled to the other side as it struck at him again. This time it came closer, tearing the sleeve on his tunic as he continued to backpedal away from it. His flailing hands landed on something hard and round; a glance backward told him he had found his spear again.

Then a blinding flash of pain radiated from his leg, and he looked down in horror to see the spider’s leg stabbed into the flesh of his thigh. The spider began another screech, yanking him hard towards itself. Only a fortunate, desperate grab locked his hand around the spear. Clay pivoted, bringing the weapon around to point up at it, screaming in rage and fear.

The boar spear stabbed deep into the spider’s thorax, and he could feel it stiffen in shock. He wrenched it back and forth, trying to do enough damage to kill the thing before it could recover. Giving it another chance was the last thing he could afford to do.

He heard the rope finally snap, and the troll spider toppled to the ground, one of its broken limbs flailing across him. Clay shouted, part panic and part defiance, and then stabbed the thing again, trying to rip as big a hole as he could.

Then he was on his feet, staggering backwards. He had no memory of standing, or of freeing his spear. Clay made it three strides away, still backpedaling on one leg that was threatening to collapse, before he realized that he’d received a new message from the [Gift].

{Mature Troll Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}

He let out a shuddering, relieved gasp, gulping air as he stared at the still-twitching corpse. A part of him didn’t quite believe that it was dead. Clearly, the trap had worked, but it hadn’t exactly been the solution he was hoping for. Just as clearly, his impatience had nearly killed him. How stupid and overconfident did you have to be to underestimate a mature monster?

Clay grimaced, glancing down at his wounded leg. He’d survived, but just barely, and it was long past time for him to head home for the day. Nothing he’d seen suggested that blood attracted the spiders, but he really didn’t want to find out the hard way.

He took a moment to clean his wound, trying to clear the mud and dirt away from it. It occurred to him that he didn’t know if the troll spider’s limbs were venomous; the journal hadn’t mentioned anything about it, but the notes he had were minimal at best. He fished out a rag and tied it around the gash in a makeshift bandage.

It took a few more minutes to gather what was left of his tools. He had dropped his axe in the mud, but it was still serviceable. So was his bow, though the arrows had scattered along the ground where he’d been dragged. The combined rope and nails were a complete loss; the spider’s death had ripped it apart, and his fingers ached when he contemplated the work it would take to pry the nails out of the dead spider’s corpse. He decided to cut his losses and head for home before anything else went wrong.

Grunting in pain and leaning on the shaft of the boar spear, Clay made his way out of the Tanglewood, hoping that nothing worse found him before he escaped.

Clay woke the next morning, and the first thing he felt was a faint kind of surprise.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected to live; in fact, it wasn’t even the first time he’d taken a severe injury. There had been one time that he’d fallen off of the barn roof and broken a leg; the following few weeks of him hobbling around on a cane had been painful in more than one way. He was not looking forward to something similar now. Even picturing hunting in the Tanglewood as he hobbled around was agonizing. If he tried it, he probably wouldn’t last a day.

He grimaced and forced himself to sit up, trying not to growl in pain as the wound in his leg twinged. Standing up the rest of the way was an unpleasant process that nearly had him falling back on his bed, but he managed it. By the time he made it to his chair, he was sweating slightly, and his breath was short. At that point, he decided it would probably be a good idea to check the wound.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, though the dressing certainly needed to change. He unwrapped the bandage and grabbed another bit of cloth from nearby. Then he braced himself and tried to inspect the damage.

The gash wasn’t as deep as he remembered it; had it healed, or had he just been too panicked to see it clearly? There was some pus forming, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to scrape some of the foul stuff away. It was a brutal experience, but one that he intended to remember well the next time he was tempted to rush in. Pain was an excellent teacher, he supposed. At least he hoped that would be the case.

He suffered through that and then was about to start working on tying a new bandage when a knock sounded at the door. Clay paused, tilting his head back in frustration, and then sighed. “Come in!”

It wasn’t like he was going to be able to pretend he wasn’t home, after all. Whoever was there was going to have seen the thin smoke coming from the remnants of the fire in the fireplace. Better that his dad or his mom help him with the wound, anyway.

Of course, his expectations changed somewhat when a man in a gambeson stepped through the door. “Pardon the interruption. I was just…are you wounded?”

Clay stared at him in surprise for a few heartbeats, his jaw hanging open. When his brain finally caught up to the situation, he tried not to stammer. “I—I managed to hurt myself yesterday. Sorry for not meeting you at the door.”

“Think nothing of it.” The man stepped forward, his expression concerned. “Let me have a look at that. It seems like it’s pretty deep.”

Clay grunted, and the man came forward. He looked over the wound a little and glanced up at Clay. “How did you manage to hurt yourself like this? It’s like you stabbed yourself with a knife.”

He grimaced. “I’d rather not get into it. Do you think I need to see the healer?”

“It might be a good idea, though you could always wait until it has a chance to clear up on its own.” The man took out what looked like a needle and thread, holding the slim piece of iron over the smoldering coals of the fireplace for a moment. “The name’s Herbert, by the way. I don’t think we’ve spoken much.”

Clay nodded, remembering him standing at the edges of the village get-togethers occasionally. “Yeah, you’re one of the baron’s men, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Herbert nodded. “He sent me out to see how you were doing, and to bring the next round of coin for you.” The man set a small purse on the table next to him, grinning as the coins clinked inside. “You might find a little extra in there. It seems he might be feeling a little guilty sticking you out here by yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“He doesn’t need to.” Clay forced a tight smile. “It’s thanks to his generosity that I even have this place. I’m grateful for his help.”

“Well, you could show it with a bit more fieldwork, from what I could see.” Herbert threaded the needle, and then glanced at him again. “You might want to grit your teeth. This part’s going to hurt a little.”

A short time later, Clay managed to unclench his hands. Herbert had not been kidding. “Th-thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Better to keep it clean and closed for the next little bit. See the healer if it starts to swell or get sore. A little redness is okay, but if it goes on for too long, get it seen to. Better to lose a bit of coin than a leg.”

Clay nodded. “I will. And thanks again.”

“No problem at all.” Herbert stuck out a hand. “If you need help with anything, just let me know. Us [Commoners] should stick together.”

He grasped the hand and shook it. “The baron wouldn’t mind? I’d think he had plenty for you to do.”

“There’s not that much need for a [Guard] in these parts, unless he’s traveling on the road, anyway.” Herbert shrugged. “Luckily, the baron’s managed to keep everyone happy around here, so nobody wants his head. Makes it easier on me, certainly.”

Clay smiled at him. “Glad to hear it. I’ll let you know.”

Herbert gave him a friendly wave and stepped back out of the doorway. Clay saw him pick up the quarterstaff that he’d leaned against the wall before the door shut again. He waited a while, giving the baron’s man enough time to get some distance from the house. Then he breathed a deep sigh.

He was lucky the man had stopped by, and even luckier that he’d found Clay at home. Even better, it seemed like he had believed Clay’s story about the accident causing his wound. Hopefully, the lie would hold up for a little while; he wasn’t sure if Herbert had noticed anything else odd about his farmhouse. Just in case, he gathered up all the notes and designs he’d made and tucked them away in a spot where they would be out of sight. His hunting tools were gathered up and placed in a spot where they wouldn’t provoke comment, either. If he had any other unexpected visitors, then with luck, the oddities would pass below their notice.

Then he limped towards the door and opened it, still wincing with every step. The work on the farm, at least, was something he could do. Tanglewood and its monsters would have to wait, at least until he no longer had a fresh wound to worry about.

Hopefully, that was all he would need to worry about for the foreseeable future.

He spent the next two days in pain and basic labor. His wound made it harder to cut and pull, but he forced himself to manage it. As the hours rolled on, the pain slowly grew less. [Laborer] at least meant he enjoyed some benefits to the work he was doing, and it had the pleasant upside of not risking death at any moment.

As the pain faded, Clay’s thoughts turned to the next attempt. He had to go back into the Tanglewood; that much was certain. Too many monsters were lurking within, and he knew that unless someone did something, they would spill out into the neighboring farms. Maybe they would even reach the village itself.

All of which meant he wasn’t done yet. He needed another strategy.

His resolve helped him when, on the afternoon of the third day, he approached the edge of the Tanglewood. This time, he had decided to try something else. As he stepped into the Tanglewood, he received a notification.

{Will increased by 1! Valor increased by 1!}

Clay grimaced, smiling a bit. At least the [Gift] seemed to appreciate what he was doing. With good fortune, he’d survive the day. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have much fighting to do. His objective over the next few days was not to confront the larger monsters right away. Doing that would probably lead to an early, unpleasant death.

They were still the next target of his one-man war against the Tanglewood, however. Killing three more of the mature spiders would give him his next level; if he killed nine more of just one type, he might gain something more from [Spiderbane]. If he wanted to gain what he could, he needed to focus on just one type instead of going after both the trolls and mantraps at the same time.

Given that the mantrap had died without wounding him, he decided to start with those first.

It didn’t take that long to hunt down a troll spiderling, and he felt a little relieved as it died quickly and easily. Carrying the corpse brought back terrible memories of the larger version nearly murdering him, but he pushed himself to do it, anyway.

He set the corpse in a new spot, and then limped to where he could observe it. He’d seen the adult spiders before, but this time he wouldn’t be watching from a perspective of shock and horror. Nor would he be enacting a too-early plan. Instead, he watched and tried to figure out how their minds worked. If he could figure them out, he could destroy them.

To that end, he watched the mature mantrap spider approach the fresh corpse. He watched it pounce, watched it tear into the spiderling’s body, dissolve it, and consume the remains. Then he watched as it leaped away, returning to whatever nightmare burrow had spawned it.

He spent the next two days killing spiderlings and observing their larger counterparts. It was a nerve-wracking process, one that took far too much time, and made him feel like they were just tormenting him, that they knew he was there, and were just waiting to ambush him when he had let his guard down.

Still, when he finally had his plan in place, Clay made his way down to the village. His limp had lessened, and the pain from his injuries was less than it had been. He was ready to begin his work again in earnest—just as soon as he made a stop first.

“Another visit so soon?” Adam blinked in feigned surprise. Herbert must have talked. “It is good to see you, Clay, but entirely unexpected. Are you injured? Not due to anything I sold you, I hope?”

Clay grinned. “No, no, nothing I can blame you for. Just managed to be a bit clumsy, is all.”

“Well, I am happy to hear I haven’t failed you! Though I am still sad that you were hurt.” Adam’s frown was perfectly calculated, with just the right amount of sincerity. “You might be interested in a supply of mildleaf and calmroot. They could ease your recovery if you cannot afford the trip to the healer.”

“Thank you, they would be very helpful—along with the other things that I need, of course.”

Adam froze partway into his gracious smile. “Your—what?”

It was perversely satisfying to take the shopkeeper by genuine surprise. “I need a harpoon, like something you would use for fishing. A large hook would be useful too, the kind that a butcher would use to hang pork, as well as some more cord or light chain. Do you have them?”

The shopkeeper seemed completely off balance now. “But I…you don’t want to speak with David about this instead?”

“He said that it would take a few days. I need it sooner than that.” Clay tilted his head slightly. “Do you have what I need?”

Adam stared at him, blinking. He’d never seen the shopkeeper so out of sorts, even when Clay had asked him for fire arrows. The silence was impressively long, and when Adam finally spoke, he seemed almost resentful. It was as if the merchant felt Clay had cheated somehow. “I have them. You can take it back with you today. But I will require… payment.”

“Of course.” Clay smiled again, bringing out the pouch of the baron’s coin. There was little left, but he felt like it would be enough. As he moved, the wound in his leg twinged, and he winced. “Shall we take a look at that mildleaf?”

It took him a while to walk back to the house, but he didn’t pause to rest when he reached the door.

The first thing he did was tie a length of the cord to the meat hook, testing it to make sure that it was secure. After he was sure of that, he cut a small notch in the end of the harpoon before wrapping the other length of the cord through it. With just those preparations, he was ready to try again.

The spot he’d chosen for his new attempt was under the branches of a large oak tree, with a small sapling close by. With slow, painful effort, he had bent the sapling, tying it in place with a rope. Then he had fastened the end of the cord to the top of it, throwing the rest of the cord over one of the oak’s branches. It had taken a few minutes to disguise the cord as well, making it look like another one of the vines.

The other end of the cord he had tied to the meat hook, leaving it in the dirt. When he returned with a troll spiderling corpse, he set it down over the hook, driving the point of it up and into the thing’s head. He tried not to notice the ichor and where it leaked out onto his hands.

Then he retreated to a nearby hiding place, peering out onto the trap. It was a much simpler attempt, but he had every hope that it would work. Time would tell.

An hour after he’d set things up, the mantrap spider arrived.

It appeared just as they always had, suddenly leaping into place from seemingly nowhere. Clay still hadn’t been able to figure out if they were using a tunnel, or if they simply had the ability to disguise their tracks too well for him to find them. They did, however, consistently arrive from the east; the one time where he hadn’t anticipated that, the thing had nearly leapt on him, missing by a distance far too close for comfort.

This one, however, seemed to be as predictable as he had hoped. Jump by jump, the disguised mantrap put itself into position. No matter the fact that the spiderling was clearly dead, the mantraps always attacked the head first, as if they were obsessed with making sure their target was absolutely obliterated.

He waited, tense, as the spider gathered itself for an identical pounce. His fingers tensed on the rope, ready to release the sapling.

It leaped, crunching down on the spiderling corpse. He yanked, releasing the sapling.

There was a familiar-sounding squeal-cough as the sapling snapped upright, pulling the cord taut. His heart leapt in his throat as the mantrap suddenly snapped vertical, its spiked legs flailing at the air. It took a few moments for him to recognize that the monster was hanging completely off the ground. It thrashed like a terrible arachnid fish on a line, trying to cut the cord that held it imprisoned.

Clay was up and moving before he’d ever made the conscious decision to charge. His wound still sent lances of agony running through his leg, but he ignored it and pushed himself to lumber faster towards the hooked spider.

He reached it as the spider had calmed slightly, reaching up with its limbs towards the cord it dangled from. Without giving it the chance to free itself, he drove the boar spear into its belly, sinking it up to the crossguard in the spider’s guts. The spider squeal-coughed again, its limbs lashing out, but he was too far away for it to reach.

Clay grinned and ripped the spear out. He stabbed in again and again. By the time he drew back for the fourth stab, he got the notification he’d been hoping for.

{Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}

He studied the twitching corpse for a moment, and then stabbed it anyway, just for the vindication. One down, two to go.

It had only taken about an hour to set up the trap, and only a few minutes to break it down. Recovering the hook from the monster’s gullet was the least appetizing part, but it came back more or less intact, meaning that he could repeat this trick for as long as the enemy would fall for it. Not taking any damage in the process was another benefit.

Once he’d cleaned and recovered his tools, Clay put some distance between him and the site of the dead mantrap spider. He still didn’t know if something larger would come for the corpse, but he had no intention of being there if it did. The only real question was whether it would be too much to go for another kill the same day.

His wound throbbed at that moment, and he gritted his teeth. Was he being hasty again if he set up the same trap again? He’d only been in the Tanglewood for barely a couple of hours now. He could easily catch another of the things before he needed to head back. At the same time, it might be too much of a risk.

As his wound throbbed yet again, Clay came to a decision. Perhaps hunting an adult might be too dangerous, but pruning back the number of spiderlings was probably not. Besides, if he cut down a few mantrap spiderlings, he might be able to observe the adult troll spiders as well. He’d have to kill them eventually, after all, and perhaps that same observation would help him prepare.

The decision made, he began the search for his next target. If there was anything he was sure of, they would be waiting for him.

{Mature Mantrap Spider slain! Soul increases by 30}

{Commoner reaches Level 3!}

{Maximum level for all Stats is now 18!}

{Experience gained (Watcher: Gain Analysis Skill. Gain 10% bonus to Tracking skill)}

{Experience gained (Ambusher: Gain Hide Skill. Gain 10% bonus to all attacks from hiding. Gain 10% bonus to Trapping skill.)}

Clay stepped back from the third mantrap spider corpse in three days. His wound was still healing, but he was starting to feel stronger again already. He was already killing more and more spiderlings between mantrap kills, and he had continued observing the adult troll spiders as well. A couple more days, and he was feeling confident enough to begin killing those monsters as well.

Of course, his confidence had just increased by quite a bit. The new skills were going to make a major difference in his ability to pull off his ambushes. His additional bonuses were going to be an even bigger help. Clay could already imagine the larger mantrap spiders falling victim to his attacks.

He turned to his next task; he still hadn’t observed any of the adult troll spiders yet that day. Clay picked up the trail of a mantrap spiderling with an ease that was almost shocking, and he grinned to himself as he followed it to the burrow. It was going to be a good day, after all.

Clay watched the adult troll spider reach for the corpse he’d left it.

It acted just as before, with the same fluid motions and careful wrapping. Yet this time, he noticed new details. The spider was using its two rear limbs to cling to the trunk of the tree as it worked, braced to keep it from falling to the ground. Unlike the mantraps, the troll spider seemed unconcerned that its food might still be hostile. Was it because the thing had better eyesight than the mantraps did?

If true, it would make sense. After all, mantraps used vibrations to track and ambush their prey. They didn’t need eyes for that, and he’d noticed that the mantraps he’d fought had been twitchy, as if desperate to make sure they weren’t being ambushed in turn. The trolls never seemed to be taken off guard, unless struck from a distance, or by a trap. This one in particular seemed particularly intent on searching the surrounding terrain. Was it worried that an adult mantrap would pounce on it?

The spider was also not using the branches to bear its weight. Perhaps it was too heavy, but the trunk also allowed it to have a secure anchor if it needed to jump. Its spinners were unoccupied too, leaving it able to use them to spray webs. That fact had nearly killed him before, and would cause him problems in the future. He’d have to worry about being caught in its net, and if he was closer in, the two limbs it had kept free would be ready to strike at him.

Better that he rely on a trap that kept him at a distance, especially one that wouldn’t leave it capable of using the resources it had available. The lasso trap had been good at pinning it in place, but it had kept too many of the limbs intact, and had left the spinners open. If it wanted to stay anchored to the tree, he needed to pull it off balance and onto the ground, where its options would be more limited.

Clay was so intent on his observations that he barely noticed when the notification appeared.

{Insight increased by 1!}

An idea for how to use his harpoon came to mind, and he grinned. His leg wasn’t quite up to the task yet, but someday soon he’d be ready to try it out. Once he had the bonus from killing another few adult mantraps, it would be time to try it out.

It had taken a lot of pain and work, but things were finally working out.