Chronicle 54

Beaver Claw and Bierguardian parted ways after being rescued from Jarawangadananan. They vowed to rejoin and face Brewmaster as a team in the future, but neither wanted to risk being cast into the eternal darkness again. The Beave headed home, to the west edge of the island, where Big City River carved a path to the Atlantic. Further north, the land was occupied, industrialized. The majority of the riverbank, however, was lush greenery. Home of the beavers.

Many cheery beavers of all ages swam from the water or skittered on the land to greet Beaver Claw. He’d been gone for months and they felt abandoned by the hero. Distracted by their love for him, they were nearly blind to Big Knife and the effect it had on his arm. Expecting to get swarmed by his family, he closed his eyes and held out his arms to embrace them all. After hearing the skittering feet come to a halt, he opened his eyes.

“Is it this?” Big Knife waved around in front of the beavers, who backed away. egh. “Don’t worry…” he laughed. “...I’m in full control!” Heavy branches from the trees above crashed down all around and the beavers backed away further.

SLAM

Phoebeave. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her beavers, even if it meant keeping them from Beaver Claw. The giant beaver came out from a wooden fortress and walked a path between the regular-sized critters.

“This will help me protect us. You have to trust me.” Beaver Claw told her.

Phoebeave again slammed her tail on the ground. The others understood it was time to leave them two alone. She moved around Beaver Claw slowly, inspecting the musculature and the alien blade. It glowed brighter the longer held, and his arm grew stronger as well. At this point, it was further illuminating the entire wooded area, even in the daylight. The strength filling his arm was spreading to all necessary muscles needed to support its growth.

“Look.” Beaver Claw said. He slowly swiped the blade’s edge through the trunk of the tree he accidentally pruned before. egh. It sliced through like scissors through paper.

Phoebeave took a second before moving towards the nearest tree and biting it a single time to break through the trunk and side-slamming the top so it would fall the other direction.

“Right.” Beaver Claw held on to his weaker excuse to keep Big Knife. “Still. I need it to fend off the builders.”

The beaver land was under constant threat of commercialization as it was the perfect space for factories to be built with the natural drainage available. The only thing holding them off was a yearly campaign by the Baxters to preserve the land as a national park for the beavers. The Beave believed this to be a wild coincidence. They never cared about wildlife or the environment before. Why now?

There was a very real threat of expansion by existing companies onto beaver territory, however. The agreements with Big City that the Baxters demanded be upheld restricted new corporations to seize any land while park-ship was still being decided upon. Beaver Claw had on numerous occasions shown up at the edge of beaver greens to ward off some suited businessmen eyeing his home.

Phoebeave agreed to accept Beaver Claw back, even wielding Big Knife. But she and the other beavers were different, even cautious, around him. Big Knife was altering him on levels that weren’t just physical. The beavers would leave their beds at night and find him just holding it up towards the sky at night, eyes closed. He would sometimes perform different moves as if fighting some great enemy nobody could see. Worst of all, he’d zone out occasionally and cut whatever solid object was nearby. He approached a boulder that had long rested outside the fortress and stabbed the blade into it. egh.

Does anyone else hear that? Beaver Claw wondered.

SLAM

Phoebeave heard of the hero’s defacing of their favorite rock. He knew from the look in her eyes and the position of her tail that it was time to go. He wasn’t willing to let go of Big Knife, or maybe he just wasn’t able. Better off leaving the beavers safe in their home with their own kind. They don’t need me anymore.

Beaver Claw left nothing behind but the sadness of losing a family member. Even though he had a home with his parents, they had no idea he was still alive. How could he explain that he’s been out there this whole time? There was a better option. Find someone in trouble. Do the saving he was meant to do.

He climbed to the first roof in Big City he could and flung himself across buildings with his tail. For a while, it was just some athletic adventuring. Until he heard a scream.

A large, transparent plastic ball was rolling down the sidewalk, following a pedestrian running for their life. This was it. 

He didn’t have a home. He didn’t have a family. But he had a purpose.

Beaver Claw launched himself down from the rooftop and used his rubbery tail to land gracefully. At the corner, he awaited his moment. What was this plastic menace? He stepped between the lady running and the ball, holding Big Knife pointed at it.

The blade entered the air-filled ball and Beaver Claw expected it to deflate and the heroics to be over. But the ball continued to roll. It rolled over him, his grip on Big Knife keeping him attached to it. His head slammed the pavement over and over. Up close now, he realized this wasn’t an ordinary foe. A fowl was in the center of the sphere. It wasn’t a foe at all. It was Goose Ball.

Goose Ball wasn’t more of a nuisance than a hero, but it certainly wasn’t a villain. The bird was subject to panic attacks and a hardly-controllable power. Naturally, the only way to stop an anxious goose is with a melody. Beaver Claw hummed a tune his mother used to sing and the ball stopped rolling so furiously. It shrunk to just around the goose and it honked before rolling away, fully in control.

From around the next corner came the woman who he saved and a reporter with a camera crew. Slow news day.

“Beaver Claw. Wonderful to have you in Big City for a change.”

In his most gravelly voice, Beaver Claw grabbed the microphone to deliver some kind of message to the people of the city, “Nowhere is safe!”

“What?” the reported asked, troubled.

“For bad guys!” he growled. A couple people cheered nervously from the sidewalk.

“He saved my life!” The woman hugged Beaver Claw.

“And can you tell us a little about this?” the reporter held up the shredded arm to show Big Knife.

“It’s just a weapon!” he jerked his arm backward and Big Knife cut into the side of an oil tanker and into the metal of the truck, shooting sparks out onto the spillage. eeegh