《DWARF IN A HOLE》


 CHAPTER ONE

    Dwarfs enjoy holes. Pull one off the side of the streets of Thumper and set to them the question--¡±Hole?¡± Some may answer straightforwardly; others will, smirk in their beard, mention donuts of frost and flesh. Yet it is a near guarantee their answer won¡¯t arrive negative (unless one complains of the hole in their coin purse). The answer to ¡°Why?¡± is simple: dwarfs love holes. It¡¯s innate. But exceptions can always be carved even from the stoniest of the stout. Once, one exception fell far through the earth. Concluding his unexpected journey to the bottom of a pit of dirt and stone, he stewed. The dwarf hated the hole. But the mystery of this strange and unnatural hatred is no difficult solve.


    This dwarf was not always dwarf.


    Not by extinction nor eradication--simply never being offered the chance--dwarfs do not exist in all planes of reality. In one dissimilar to his own, he stewed in darkness, in a world governed by ¡®EXP¡¯. But he was once a boy. Young in the plane of reality he thought of as home (though with then no entertaining of another), the boy worked on his family farm tilling its soil, milking its cows, working with its livestock. He unconsciously chiseled a sturdy but tired back through the years, and had gained respect for the earth and most its creatures, but the same could not be said for his own. Childhood observed free time sapped, teenaged hands sharing a similar story. He lay the blame at his father¡¯s feet and distrusted others as consequence. And before the boy knew it, he was a man. He knew then his palms by their callouses, fingernails by the dirt caked under each and every one. He¡¯d developed a slight hunch. He¡¯d grown into the clothes of his father who grew unable to, among other necessities, plow the fields. This task, like all others, fell into his son¡¯s hands.


    Under a cloudless sunset the son swung his scythe against grain on grain until he could barber no more. Yellow fell into itself ready to be swept into shocks. This task, like all others, fell into his worn hands.


    Sun against the hills, dark beginning its gentle creep, the son escaped to the darker shade of the barn. He sat close enough to hear muffled moos and hen flapping. Light slipped from sight, but the son remained. His father would be out to call on him soon, he knew, but a hatred for the patriarch of the farm had grown so far, the son wasn¡¯t sure it mattered. And time spent outside was time alone--preferable. But the abyss around him widened and he watched the porch light flicker alive, his name echoed after. Instead of returning the call, the bearer stood up from the earth and backed away. His father, hunched, remained out on the porch, face distorted by darkness. Another call and his son fled into the forest. The farther he ran, the less the voice carried, that which continued in useless determination. Dreary charcoal green blurred on both sides. And skidding against rocks, the son fast became aware of the imposing, directionless nature surrounding. His sense of direction had not traveled with him. But the man did not feel fear--annoyance, potentially, having no doubt disturbed the creatures calling these woods home. Hysteria frustrating him, he turned round, as best a guess as to what round was, to trudge back towards farm and father.


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    Little light guided the son home. It was dead of night. He bumped into a tree and tapped it lightly after. He hit another and gave a frown. It was the third collision that caused a cracking, the man lost to his rage soon kicking and chipping his victim with wild anger. Catching himself moments later, he fell to the ground in a heap. He clenched his fists in repeated cycles until the strength in them gave out. Moonlight slipping past holes in the canopy of leaves above, the man stared at the glinting off his ravaged fingernails. A chill overcame him. He continued to look upon caked dirt, unaware of the branches that sagged and hovered above. Wood limbs at once snatched the son into the air. Struggling, he fought with a strength the bark disregarded, bark that twisted and chipped away to reveal a face of contempt.


    ¡°YOU WOULD DARE... SHOW SUCH DISREGARD... FOR WE WHO RENDER AIR PURE...?¡±


    The son stared back in disbelief. He wished to protest against the accusation but could not find the words nor energy necessary.


    ¡°AND YOU WOULD DARE... DISREGARD MY GREETING... DISRESPECT TREEKIND THIS WAY...?¡±


    The son shook his head weakly.


    ¡°SPEAK UP, BOY... SPEAK WHEN ADDRESSED...¡± the tree demanded. But the son could not acquiesce. ¡°PERHAPS... YOUR ACTIONS ARE ENOUGH... I WILL REWARD YOU IN KIND.¡±


    At once, the ground beneath the son gave way to a great fissure, dirt whipped into the wind by wild, thrashing roots. He glanced below in horror, for the only dark darker than the dark around him was that directly under. Mercifully he could not contemplate the horror of the situation long, branches once wrapped round giving sudden slack, its prey plunging into the abyss. The man¡¯s color soon faded from sight, and the hole became wholly dark once more.

 CHAPTER TWO

    Dwarfs enjoy holes. The farm boy who went on to become a man--but always a son--whose descent into the dark beneath him found itself broken up by and only tree roots did not share the same enthusiasm for hole dwarfkind committed itself to wholly. In other words, the man who fled in the dark fell in the dark. And while he fell, he fell as man.


    But he landed dwarf.


    To detail and describe what transpired in the darkness beloved by dwarfs is betrayed by the very nature of its being dark. If one were to share a space with the son, no closing of distance would reveal what had been endured beyond touch. Only he could offer insight, an account cemented in trust--like the rest of this tome--and is recorded as thus: first, the hair once rooted at the top of the son¡¯s skull severed its bonds and flitted away to reveal a great, bald dome. At the same time, his cheekbones became ravaged with strands of the same hue as that which remained flowing and flaring out the sides of his scalp (the last survivors of his own sudden barbering). The man became overcome with sudden pain shooting through his legs, the bones beneath his flesh shortening themselves into one another forcibly. Nothing shattered nor splintered, but the son could not stir free from the feeling of one¡¯s limbs caving into themselves. His arms too shrunk in size, but they near doubled in girth. The same fast became true of his legs, the mass of his skin stretching wide to cover such unexpected developing. Blows delivered to the man¡¯s nerves mounted the peak of its potency, and he hollered. Despite the wind screeching right alongside, his voice seemed to command attention of the shaft itself. Then all became very quiet...


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    Some time later, the man who fell into the earth woke up surely at its bottom. His dazed vision caught the same dirt smeared fingernails he had once observed beneath the branches of a tree--a tree that too easily sentenced him, he felt. But the bearded was wrong--concerning judgment brought down by bark is one matter; it stood incorrect to assume he gazed upon himself the same. Realization wore his callouses.


    He had become dwarf.


    The son had not the term to describe this condition of course--this complete change in composition. But he knew change had happened. The dwarf¡¯s hands were wider than his father¡¯s. His arms teemed with hair not too dissimilar to that which hung from the his cheeks and the bottom and sides of his skull. His head was cold. The dwarf became aware of dull pain that continued to hang in his limbs, and so he did not make any immediate attempt to rise. Momentarily, he marveled at his ability to behold himself at all--that he¡¯d survived.


    The dwarf craned his neck to look straight up and, beholding a distant star, the moon met his gaze. But of course, he was wrong on this account as well.


    The complete dark that returned did so during hours of immobility. The dwarf was aware of the creeping blackness and felt he could do nothing. And indeed he did only lay, waiting for the blanket that would smother. When the star completed its abandoning, a very quiet swept save for stifled groans. The dwarf shut his eyes and opened them again. He concluded no difference.

 CHAPTER THREE

    Dwarfs enjoy holes--especially unlit. The dark is coveted in a manner other races may think strange. Dwarfs have been known to celebrate annual rejoicings of one¡¯s birth with the lights snuffed for it reminds them of the humble hole. Reverence for hole and dark stems from several facets: one, jewels and gold are found in such, and dwarfs love treasure. Two, if a hole is lit, one dwarf¡¯s beaten another to the punch. There¡¯s nothing good about this; not for one¡¯s own sake. To be sliced and served Chocolate Mudberry Cake in pitch black is thought to be as close a dwarfen child can come to experiencing drunkenness short of ale.


    It is, of course, the edge cases that prove challenging to otherwise concrete theorems. One edge case indeed found himself down a hole of which light fled in hours long past. This dwarf, for he really now no longer was man, felt the continued lingerings of a dull ache in his limbs. His thick limbs, he thought to himself, though he had not had much time to make a visual impression before the star above had slipped away from view. The dwarf could certainly feel the cartoonish proportions with which he was now attached to, and he swallowed a lump in his thick dwarfen neck. He could knew the whiskers that hung from his face, a very new development that, in contrast, brought less stress to him than the forced thickening. Facial hair had long been a dream for the son of a bearded father. The wish sprang from an envious desire that first surprised the boy, then tortured him as he toured his teenage years without a hair save the top of his head--a place where, now, of course, the dwarf felt naught but smooth skin. Even his own father hadn¡¯t gone bald.


    With having endured these wild changes, the dwarf could only guess at the modifications of his face. Obviously felt was a wider nose, thicker brows--but he could not picture these features. He could feel dirt. He felt rocks, and a couple of worms. He felt terrible. He thought about his father, and the dwarf began to weep bitterly. He hated the farm, but even rising dead early in pale blue to feed hens beat the circumstances as they were.


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    The dwarf sat up. He rubbed his large hands against the cylindrical wall of earth around him. He looked at what he assumed to be straight up, certainly uncertain, and could not discern but dark. He cursed the tree that trapped him in such an inhuman prison. He cursed his own hands for their lack of humanity. He continued cursing until collapsing back into a pathetic heap, bitter tears once more flowing.


    It was very dark.


    It was dark for a length of time unknowable to the dwarf--uncountable. He sat up once again and even stood despite the continued ache in his legs. The dwarf could not reasonably assess his new stature, but he did decide he could test it as he could not stand to cry any further. Knuckles cracked awkwardly. His neck bent. He slapped his palms at the wall, searching. Hairy fingers pushed and prodded against dirt until, eventually, the dwarf found his first success: grippable earth. He attempted to hoist himself up, and out reached his free hand further. He prodded another found mound of firm earth. But the dirt loosened, and the dwarf fell.


    Yet again he landed dwarf.


    But something happened this fall that did not previously. The dwarf smacked the ground and groaned in pain--this, of course, no different. But something strange met his gaze now, defiant of the dark surrounding. Letters and numbers hovered ahead of him, orientated to match his vision. Gas pump prices flashed through the dwarf¡¯s mind, another reminder of a life long lost. But what he saw never ran across a station¡¯s sign in his former lifetime, glowing:


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±

 CHAPTER FOUR

    Dwarfs love dark. Dark is opportunity. It heralds a plundering. But for the just turned dwarf, an exception to many dwarfen rules, he slept through such bleak nothing in search of morning. Awakening, the dwarf did so to as much light as could be afforded, deep as the dwarf was. Sunlight slipped down to little merit, black veil unwilling to surrender fully. But the dwarf realized he could at last, at least observe his hands once again. His thick hands, he thought. His clothesless self, he only then realized. The dwarf at once regretted ever pondering his new figure and decided to never gaze upon a reflection if could be helped. Then he felt the beard that had survived the night hanging long from his face, and the dwarf pulled its length into view sitting up. He wished then to see it all.


    Dwarfs love beard. Pull a dwarf off the side of the streets of Thumper and marvel at their diverse hair. It is not uncommon for even women to sport whiskers, though the practice is limited. Indeed, very few dwarfs have ever been recorded in history as sustaining shaves long term. The dwarf in the hole would be no different. It is possible this development led to the inspiration necessary to continue climbing out from his prison. It is also possible the dwarf became driven by hunger or thirst. Backed by whatever theory, for he could not recall himself, the dwarf put one hand in front of the other and brought his bearded body up. Then he fell, and he did so again.


    Every so often, this is what the dwarf would see:


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL XP GAINED¡±, for the newly minted dwarf had unknowingly entered a plane of reality completely unlike his own--one governed by EXP. The more of this he earned, more frequent he would see:


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


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    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    Naturally, the dwarf too learned another sort of message could appear:


    ¡°HEALTH LOW¡±


    He felt it. He lost track of the falls he¡¯d endured. So willed forward his flesh had been, the dwarf realized his limits. He laid across dirt breathing, gasping. Meanwhile, the sun once above succeeded to rain. Darkness regained its strength under storm bearing clouds, and the dwarf found himself once more in black familiarity. Droplets falling a distance all too similar to the dwarf¡¯s own descent pounded into his flesh without impact, a puddle forming under his cheek.


    The dirt became wet. The dwarf was wet. When sporadic bouts of light returned to the hole, its walls glistened. The HEALTH LOW message had disappeared from sight and breath had returned to his lungs, so the dwarf stood yet again and resumed his escape. But this effort proved pathetic. He fell without ever grasping a handle for long, smacking into wet earth sickeningly, repeatedly. He thought of his father again, how low he¡¯d think of him now. Tears continued from above. The puddle had widened, and the dwarf became conscious as he sat that he did so in a well. His leg hair caught the rising water and fell against its weight. His soles soaked.


    For the first time in the dwarf¡¯s life, the fear of death set in. As a farmer¡¯s son, he had explored the countryside to a lengthy extent. He had not always been afforded the time to do so, but that did not stop the encountering of danger in his own plane. Once, the boy had rolled into a deep ravine filled with moss and web. A sunset had concluded as he re-emerged, and the boy ran home in a frenzy, a bloodied, bruised, filthy mess. Back then, there had seemed enough hope to guide the boy back to his farm. The dwarf looked upwards at the darkened gray that dominated the hole¡¯s exit and watched it grow black. The rain trickled to a close as the dwarf¡¯s collarbones submerged. It amused him somewhat to catch out of the corner of his eye, infrequently, ¡°SWIMMING SKILL INCREASED¡±.


    But for the first time in his life, the dwarf feared he¡¯d soon die.

 CHAPTER FIVE

    Death to a dwarf is to have wet fingers reach out and snuff the flame of a wick only just alighted--incidents natural and in the comfort of their own homes and holes excluded (wicks long and brackish). To see out the length of such a stem is the unspoken goal of all dwarfen societies: live long years out and die surrounded by those with centuries more to go. As far as mining operations are concerned, dwarfen-ran institutions consistently produce the safest underground working standards of any known civilizations. To die in a wet hole without a gray in one¡¯s beard would be widely considered a preventable tragedy. Such is the tragedy a recent dwarf anticipated, neck deep in his doom.


    Whether the storm had faded or night began came difficult to assess from so far down. It was dark all the same. For two nights now, the dwarf realized. He shook his head, the only part of him dry. Even his brand new beard could not be kept safe from the stagnant water. As if the dwarf were being dealt a consolation prize for his misery, occasionally his ¡®SWIMMING¡¯ level would climb another rung. Indeed, by this time he had amassed fifteen levels in the skill. He wasn¡¯t certain which milestone in particular would be cause for celebration.


    As if tearing apart binding ropes, the dwarf violently shot up, water splashing at the wall the dwarf resumed flinging himself towards. It was cool this low into the ground. The dirt making up the dwarf¡¯s natural prison had not grown any less wet, reminding him with every thunk and splash. Dripping from the top of his wet head--undaunted--the dwarf flung himself out from the frenzy that stirred within him against sickening mush. And again, and so on.


    Without repentance nor reluctance, the dwarf climbed--unfortunately, in vain. Despite such effort, he failed to generate enough ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯ experience for even a single level. But he raged on, determined to resist his neck-deep embrace of death. Surprisingly, this manic state proved its worth: an uncountable attempt caused the earth to groan as if in agony from flesh torn, and so dirt slumped downwards nearly drowning the dwarf in a miniature mudslide. The resulting sludge was not its worth--what was glowed and pulsated.


    Pulling himself up from the muck, he--the dwarf--sat next to a rune etched slab. He--the drenched--studied it with ignorant curiosity. Something compelled thoughts but they could not articulate in his head. The dwarf laid a filthy hand against the stone and, as if his father lit the family parlor, he felt warmth. For a dripping dirty farmer¡¯s son--shivering, chattering--this proved to be his first legitimate boon. He curled up in a fashion spent on his parents¡¯ bed once upon a time. The dwarf¡¯s back against the pulse, he looked upwards at the dirt that formed a canopy of sorts, a result of the slide. It occasionally, worryingly, dripped. The possibility of collapse did not elude the dwarf. But he closed his eyes regardless...


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    Sunshine spurred the dwarf to ignore the dull pain he awoke to--some from his initial transformation, much from the physical lengths he had stressed himself to. With the light warmer, stronger than yesterday, dirt dried. Starting with the wall that had yet collapsed, the dwarf threw himself upwards, another fervor that could only be quelled by death.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 8¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 9¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 10¡±


    Despite his impassioned ethic resulting in countless falls, the dwarf hardly lost a drop of health. What he came to realize in this world illuminated with every splash from every fall: water, even muddied, even filthy, negates all heights. The dwarf found himself ascending higher and higher than the night of storms previous, the new veins that decorated his large arms popping near to burst. He¡¯d fail and fall to do but another attempt--if he managed to land into what remained of the pool, the dwarf understood, no disregardable portion of the hole having recently been replaced with wet roof.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 11¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 12¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    The sun drifted. The dwarf had yet succeeded nor yielded. He climbed as the hole basked in inbound dusk. Even from afar, the blue and purple dotting, lining his body could surely be seen bare. He knew he held little reserves, and he considered whether rest was an option. The possibility of a subsequent rainstorm too failed to elude the dwarf. So his bruised form regardless ascended.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 16¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 17¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 18¡±


    After an immeasurable amount of attempts, failures, crashes, splashes, and near death by drowning, as his lungs collapsed and contracted with a struggle his farm never found, the dwarf¡¯s hands seized the mouth of the hole.

 CHAPTER SIX

    With great, final effort, the dwarf hoisted himself over the hole¡¯s lip and up onto bare, cracked tile. He breathed in. He was not sure where he was. He breathed out. As long as it wasn¡¯t another hole, the dwarf thought. And then he began to laugh, his dwarfen lungs producing a gruff but songlike quality. The laughter bounced off the broken floors and tall, tall ceiling. He noticed a peculiar gap in the latter, right above that which he¡¯d crawled out from. Then he caught the statues, the windows, the pews:


    His smile fell. He wasn¡¯t in the forest.


    The dwarf laid there for some time before deciding to push forward, kicking his stubby dwarfen legs out and straightening himself atop the echoing tiles. He stood for but a moment before laying back down and drifting off to sleep once more...


    Day fast grew to night, the dwarf learned upon awakening. Inside the church, a pale blue dominated the dark. Stars from outside filtered their way through the stained glass making up much of the walls. They--the stars--danced on tile, on pew, on dwarf, he realized glancing at his arms. His worn, tired arms, he mused. Veins had popped, parts of skin wholly bruised. The dwarf groaned. But he didn¡¯t wish to spend another second prone.


    Rising to wander down the aisle, the dwarf took in the statues and faces he could not make out. His dwarfen feet tread a red carpet, and he remarked at its texture. He considered collecting from the empty pews, an act he¡¯d seen often through childhood. Back then, the boy didn¡¯t care for the break from farmwork--not if it meant worship. Nor did he appreciate the dictations on animals--the same he loved. This clashing of ideals meant a tensening of what already had been a difficult paternal relationship. The father instructed his son after church rigidly while the hens clucked. The dwarf wondered how a rug could unfurl to such length.


    But at last he came to an altar, and across it a book sat open to which the dwarf drew near. All blank. Apprehensive, his hand rose and fell towards the pages, turning one. With sudden great force, the tome¡¯s contents began flipping and billowing as if sails, and a translucent black box shot up and out, large words featured before the dwarf:


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±


    The dwarf froze, panicked. He knew little to parse this. And he wasn¡¯t illiterate. As a boy he¡¯d read the Bible--repeatedly. But the dwarf could not create sense from the flow of events, the blank book bursting with a pop-up that fixed itself onto his sight like the remnants of retina damage. He couldn¡¯t shake the words that expected an answer he did not know how to conjure. He had made progress, that much was undeniable. The last thing he¡¯d want to see was such undone, or not ¡®saved¡¯, or however and whatever was happening. So the dwarf decided yes.


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


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    The message disappeared. Stars twinkled on tile. The dwarf, scratching his head, wandered over to a pew and sat. He stared hard at the steeple¡¯s silent dancefloor. He cursed again the tree that had cursed him to this place. He then at once became incredibly self-conscious, God overhearing and shaking His head. The dwarf muttered a quiet apology, clasped his hands and continued his sit. Nothing stirred then but the hot gasses above and below.


    Knocking came with tremendous force from far behind the dwarf. A heavy set of wood double doors rattled and shook again. So the dwarf himself stood, knocking continuing--less like rapping knuckles than first believed--and he gripped the pew¡¯s back, steadying himself. The dwarf¡¯s energy had long sapped after the brutality climbed up from, and the dwarf questioned if determination alone could spare his life  What little sleep he managed helped, he hoped, but many wounds would require more than rest to heal. The dwarf staggered over to a tall candelabra and took the tool up into his hands, using a grip similarly to pitchforks past. But what did he intend to really do? This was no father returning to his chapel; what bashed on wood surely meant ill-will. The dwarf little relished the idea of a fight--not this soon or particularly ever in perhaps exception of the tree aforementioned.


    Yet the dwarf approached the doors. By then, the sounds had ceased, but this did not slow the sweat beading down the dwarf¡¯s bald dome. His arms¡¯ thick hair raised themselves reminding the dwarf of their furred existence. They were right to--at once, the doors flung open and a grotesque amalgamation of bee and boar postured before the dwarf. Its weak seeming wings hefted the creature up revealing a stinger the stars glorified. Hooves, tusk, antennae: the dwarf stained the carpet with bile. He staggered backwards, releasing the candelabra crashing clumsily against red. The creature advanced forward, the dwarf tripping, spilling over and crushing a pew with his weight. Stinger glinting with a menace he¡¯d never felt in his life, the dwarf realized he was going to die.


    The insectoid swine swung once again at its prey, instead embedding itself into a stray pew. The incident ended nearly as quickly as it had began, and the beast resumed its chase. With a sudden speed of which the dwarf could neither anticipate nor parry, it rammed his gut with its hooves, and the pair fell backwards--back to the depths where man had become dwarf. He gripped the beast with a resolve that surprised himself in light of the hurtling circumstances. The dwarf would not die alone, he demanded from his murderer. So down the two fell into an indiscriminate abyss...


    The dwarf awoke to a corpse and an unresponsive leg. It--the corpse--responded, he thought, prodding triggering reactions in the wings. It otherwise laid dead atop his lower half, the parts that failed managing to land in water like the rest of him had. The dwarf felt three layers of pain that slipped themselves over one another: a remainder from his transformation, the obvious aching of overworked muscles, and limb death. He could not muster any noise worth properly conveying the injuries sustained. And all this at the bottom of a well. The dwarf smiled strangely; then cried. When his tears dried, he did little more than stare up at the nothing above.


    The dwarf could not answer any question that put the matter of time to him. He sat still in silence. A stiffness set in and yet the dwarf did not stir. Either little or much time had fled once the dwarf did jerk himself up from the muck--silent, teeth grit--and took the corpse¡¯s stinger into his hands. He stared at the tool as if he hadn¡¯t glanced away from above. The dwarf screamed himself hoarse into the void and cried more tears and gouged his chest with the stinger. He held the thing a little longer, let go and laid dead.

 CHAPTER SEVEN

    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    The message disappeared. Stars twinkled on tile. The dwarf awoke to himself gasping frantically, though he then ceased with no great physical effort. He stared at the constellations around him spinning circles ceaselessly. He felt another round of bile come up in his throat but managed it all back down. The dwarf had died. The dwarf lived again--not an experience much of his kind could relate to. He shifted his gaze to the book on the altar and roused himself up to investigate. The pages revealed not one line of ink, and the tome itself bore no identity on either end. But it did ask him a familiar question:


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±


    The dwarf spun around as the church¡¯s double doors sprang to life. Yanking the same candelabra off the ground he had held before death, the dwarf dashed and slid it through the doors¡¯ handles. The fortification held, and silence hung after. The dwarf¡¯s movement had arrived mechanically, little input allowed override. His thoughts instead drifted toward the unforgotten memories that had and hadn¡¯t followed, and he resolved to defend against the former. Silence continued. The dwarf conjured up the vile form of what he knew buzzed on the other side of the wood. Hooves, tusk, antennae: the dwarf held it down. The pig is a creature of God, the dwarf had been taught. And the wasp that of the devil, reminded welts collected through childhood. For a beast to be both meant surely a lack of either, or a pure concentration of Satan, his father may have suggested. The dwarf glanced back around him, at the pews and glass and carpet rolled red, at the crater in the ceiling and through the ground. Such a state of disrepair darkened the dwarf¡¯s spirits: His following had failed. And he wondered why it bothered him. Then, he spied His creature, or that of His enemy: a buzzing insectoid porcine. Failing to gain entry through the front, it wisely slipped inside the steeple through the only other means possible. Upon spotting the dwarf it began its airborne assault.


    He, the dwarf, spun and fumbled with the imprisoned candelabra, unable to free it from its bars before the swine crashed down onto him. Its stinger glinted above with a menace that intensified his beating heart, the intense memory of impaled flesh fresh and unshakeable. But the dwarf managed to compose himself and snake out from beneath the boar bug, diving for another pitchfork. He wielded the thing with an emotionless grip: the dwarf only then affirmed the feeling of adrenaline, and he steadied his footing in preparation of fight. The beast spun round, stars melting off its stinger. The dwarf dropped the tool and dashed out from the altar and into a hall, his stalker not far behind. ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯ skill updates obstructed the dwarf¡¯s view as he awkwardly rounded a corner. His legs frustrated him, his ability to escape feeling handicapped, a ghost-like sensation of longer length poisoning command of himself. He tripped and stumbled down a door and into a kitchen. The bug came behind. The dwarf had but one option left and chose to turn its knob revealing a poorly stocked pantry. He dove under its shelves and found himself surprised at the sudden appreciation for his new figure squeezed compact between bags of stew fodder. The dwarf¡¯s assailant forced its stinger as deep into the closet as physically possible--to no gain.


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    But the beast jabbed further. Whether air, shelf or stock, its rampage continued unabated. At this the dwarf¡¯s fear furthered. But the assailant¡¯s sheer hardheadedness struck the dwarf reminding him of his own swine. Stubbornness was common. The boar in it seemed no different even attached to such vile parts. He glanced around at the sparsity until noticing food sacked near. The beast huffing and snorting in frustration, it slowly ceased such sounds and strikes as a potato rolled over the floor. It investigated, attacked and swallowed. The creature huffed for more.


    This time, the dwarf held his offering out by hand. Its antennae twitched strangely as the bug beast undertook another sniffing. He looked into its mirror eyes and frowned at the dozens of reflections that met him back. The beard surpassed his imagination--the rest reminded him only of the curse he bore in a potentially godless world. Perhaps this animal, too, had become cursed. He gave his sympathy away in the form of a carrot, then another. The dwarf, courage gained, crawled himself closer out from the nook. His stubby arm could only reach so far, but exchanging had him emboldened.


    The dwarf reached out with both limited limbs, one hand grasped around a carrot¡¯s upper stem; the other grazed along the creature¡¯s fur. It froze, and the dwarf thought to brace, but he instead continued a relaxed posture practiced over a lifetime--the one the beast had taken away in another. But it instead shot another round of air out and continued its consuming of the carrot, the dwarf surely given grace to stroke its wild hair. The close proximity to enlarged insectoid parts nearly summoned another round of bile, and it was its failure to form that reminded the dwarf of his own hunger. The pig wasp seated itself. The dwarf sampled a carrot. He decided on ¡®Waspig¡¯.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 2¡±...


    The church had sat in ruin for some time, the dwarf confirmed trodding down its dilapidated halls, Waspig alternating between hoof and hover. Dust clung to near every corner of every hall, contents ranging from furniture in decay to burnt black floors and walls. No signs of life made themselves known aside from the huffs and snorts that trailed behind. The dwarf judged the shelf stability of the carrots he¡¯d feasted on, opting not to consume raw potatoes all of which bolstered spiraling roots. None of the kitchen facilities worked, the coal stove cold. Nothing here remained but vegetables and a blank book of some sort of sorcery, or witchcraft his father may have clarified.


    The dwarf¡¯s investigation of life shifted to a focus on safety. Identifying no other possible exit, he returned to the candelabra jammed through the double doors¡¯ handles and began to slide in a second with some considerable effort. Waspig watched with a strange curiosity. Satisfied in his work--or resigned to perform none further--the dwarf caught his breath, the labor of days endured weighing his head down to the ground. He curled up, and the pigwasp buzzed over offering its warmth. The cool collection of syncopated breaths peacefully disturbed the steeple¡¯s dusty air. The stars danced on the sleeping.

 CHAPTER EIGHT

    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    The dwarf stepped back from the altar, his second entry logged in the blank book before him. Waspig was not far behind, grazing on the red beneath both. He thought he ought to chastise the beast but stayed his hand given the dilapidation Waspig only continued. Mere feet away a great hole lay in the foundation with a depth the dwarf felt intimate, and above set an equal sized crater, sunlight shot onto cracked tile. Despite the doggedness that brought the dwarf weary, waking up to a warm face was all he wanted, and he felt then prepared for what the day would ask of him.


    To clarify, the dwarf tired. But his story is written.


    Together, both dwarf and animal came up to the chapel¡¯s blockade. He set about attempting to free the double doors of their candelabras but struggled to frustration. The dwarf at once inhaled sharply. He clenched his fists in repeated cycles until the strength in them gave out. He drew up to the door again and wailed a series of limp attacks, crumpling to the tile after. The dwarf did not cry despite his eyes stinging from exhaustion, frustrating further. All this Waspig watched, tilting its head and little else. The dwarf¡¯s cheek smeared too cold, so he drew up and headed into the hallways of the place, searching again for another exit. He thought to smack himself for allowing his fear and idiocy control the way he had. It was some time before the dwarf remembered the existence of another which snorted eagerly at its master¡¯s calloused hands.


    The two entered the kitchen as the dwarf went to fetch what remained of the pantry¡¯s stores: very little. They returned to the red rolled room and sat where light basked, one crunching carrots and the other expired potatoes. The dwarf gazed up at a saturated blue past the ceiling¡¯s penetration. Fat clouds drifted lazily. They did not look so unlike home. He wondered their distance traveled. Past them, he realized, something resembling the moon presented itself in an even deeper blue, a sapphire over puddles. Near dead center sat a speck of green, and the dwarf struggled to comprehend its existence. He turned to his pet as assurance of the alternate and strange reality they ate in. Its array of eyes continued to unsettle him, and his own soon came to rest. The dwarf dozed off...


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Sunlight persisted--dimmer. It became clear quickly to the dwarf there lay only one path out: up. The inherent danger in his scheme was not lost as he peered over the edge of the hole beneath the hole. The dwarf considered whether he would be granted a second resurrection should he fall. He spat those thoughts out into the abyss. Returning to Waspig with a potato, the dwarf allowed the food to hover precariously close to its snout. A series of huffs betrayed the beast¡¯s intentions, and it was quick to follow suit, lifting its forelegs up into the air while adjusting its wings. The dwarf gave praise. Another potato having wiggled in the air, Waspig repeated its trick, slightly more elevated. This act continued two potatoes deeper until the dwarf succeeded in lifting his pet completely off the ground.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 4¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 5¡±


    Next, the dwarf practiced mounting. It--the creature--did not at first much appreciate its owner¡¯s insistence on the point, but further offerings of potato allowed the dwarf¡¯s mimicking of horseback rode days--his new steed although stouter. Waspig¡¯s strength frightened the dwarf as he came to understand its ability to bear its bearded burden. But the lessons continued as the last vestiges of light nearly fled the chapel, darkness soon to reign dominant save the stars as guests.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 6¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 7¡±


    The process grew so gradual the dwarf himself became caught off guard at the level of verticality achieved. The two ascended up close to the roof, evidence meanwhile of a nearly completed sunset spilling its remains through stained glass. Waspig fluttered with a determination not understood but appreciated nonetheless, gobbling up the last of the dwarf¡¯s supply. Just enough, he thought, his concern however growing elsewhere, inevitable foraging ahead of them. He blinked back to reality.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 8¡±


    As the beasts¡¯ lungs collapsed and contracted with a struggle its wilderness had never wrung, the dwarf¡¯s hands seized the mouth of the hole.

 CHAPTER NINE

    With once more a great effort, the dwarf hoisted himself over the hole¡¯s lip and up onto bare, slanted shingle. The dwarf at once began sliding down the slant, his large hands palming at only smooth warmth. Waspig peaked past the hole to find its master very nearly gone. The dwarf seemed not able to deliver much needed air to his lungs. And then his slide slowed to nothing as the roof flattened out. The dwarf set his face against iron. He discontinued his lay only when Waspig shot its breath onto stout arms. So he sat himself up proper besides the beast and took in the world around.


    Trees tall and narrow--algae green--formed a natural barrier atop cliff faces far higher than the church¡¯s tip. They, the trees, held tight together allowing sunlight only above their cone heads. The dwarf and his pet rested atop a steeple quite close not only to one of these cliffs but a bountiful river that ran down and besides, its waterfall pouring out of what he could not understand to be anything other than the remains of a massive hatched egg nestled in the earth, its roof gone to history. And this was one direction. Its opposite watched the last light of the day dance on an ocean no more than two a walk to; before it, the appearance of civilization; before that, plains only occasionally dotted with tree; before the occasional: many. All this simmered with mystery a great ways down and quite far away. The dwarf¡¯s natural realization of his future in foraging could not be shaken, his dwarfen guts growling loud. Whether dinner would plate in the evening weighed on his mind gravely, and no amount of fur stroking soothed the dwarf.


    A tree brought him here away from his world--why? And was he being offered now a unique chance, or was the dwarf thought to die in his hole? Why the transformation, a process even now continuing the lingerings of ache? Vexxed, he laid himself with his back against the iron, eyes set to emerging stars. These seemed not dissimilar to his own nor the moon that rose above cones. He thought again of the sphere in the sky observed earlier--its surface had gleamed with earth-like blues, its sole patch otherwise likely land--indeed, the dwarf had observed the neighboring planet Draque. But stewing in ignorance, his imagination wrestled with such unbelievable concepts it met its match. The dwarf¡¯s hand that soothed his pet slowed. He fell asleep...


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    A boy¡¯s father scolded him for having strayed out too far and too long. Moss and web wrapped itself around bruised filth, the son an erect ragdoll. His father furiously exercised tobacco lined lungs, justified anger beating his boy down into the earth. He became swallowed up by it, no pocket of air unmolested by the dirt of his farm. Further he slid, struggling feebly unable to resist the transformation that forced itself upon his body. Beyond the definition of dwarf, the boy¡¯s legs shot out and burst with boar fur. His cheeks sprouted hair; his nose, his brow, forehead, until even the boy¡¯s very eyes gave birth to locks. He forced his mouth open to scream to the delight of dirt pounding on the locked door, his lungs fast filled with the taste of tilled earth.


    Shooting his eyes open, the dwarf realized at once his tumble, the distance between he and his peacefully sleeping pet widening. He slid on the steeple¡¯s second slanted set of shingle and off, plunging straight down into what the dwarf would swear be, in those fleeting moments, a rather large egg.


    The shell gave in to the dwarf¡¯s weight, he crashing down through its ceiling and into a viscous liquid slow to accept its prize. He spat what contents entered him in a coughing fit, struggling to stand--unable. He settled eventually for his back being against the curvature flanking. And in the middle of this roundness dripped a large mass, beads running down its newly formed fur, fresh eyes black and unmistakably animated. The creature gazed down at its first prey in a way immediately conveyed, the dwarf slipping to retain his position meanwhile. The beast¡¯s slick feathers shook suddenly spattering against the walls and the dwarf¡¯s beard, he once again reduced to hacking.


    But it did not wait for the dwarf to recover. The chick screeched, lunging.

 CHAPTER TEN

    Ten miles out from the nearest gas pump, a boy and his father lived to a company of themselves and their stock. The boy easily made friends--cows, chickens, deer brave enough to attempt the salt licks that lay. His father could not be counted among the group, a recluse even from his own son. A spell ago, the boy¡¯s mother left the farm intending to return--one explanation the boy consoled himself with. His thoughts oft wandered towards this figure present in formative but forgotten years past. He could not remember her face, smell, warmth. And his father refused the subject. All this he contemplated, chicken eggs fondled out from straw and into a basket the same.


    The boy¡¯s father stumbled into the barn, an ashy scent in his wake. He took a drag and pat the cows¡¯ rumps he shambled past. When he opened his mouth to speak, the boy understood his father¡¯s other vice--the sun¡¯s position through cracks in wood confirming the time, his father never late.


    ¡°How much.¡±


    The boy answered to the count of twelve.


    ¡°Mm. Stick somma these hens in a crate, see if they straighten up.¡±


    The boy pled otherwise. His father clicked his tongue and held the cigarette out as if to flick, deciding in the end against it and replacing his oral fixation. Leaving wordlessly, clouds hung behind him just moments more. The boy took a chicken into his hands and stroked the thing, the creature purring in appreciation. But the barn door swung back open to their surprise, his father in for one last word.


    ¡°Boy, you ain¡¯t that thing¡¯s mother.¡±


    His back against the slick shell wall, the dwarf allowed himself to slide further forward just narrowly avoiding a puncture from the beak of the newborn chick towering so high. He threw himself and traveled sickeningly across the thick liquid the two soaked in, bumping bald first into the other side of the egg. Sloshing around in the viscous mess, the dwarf hollered for help--for Waspig or anyone else. The wet bird, disturbed by this bearded screeching, lunged again nearly catching the dwarf¡¯s arm. He yelled Waspig again as he slumped into gel and membrane.


    The few strands of moonlight afforded to the inside of the egg from the dwarf¡¯s initial puncturing found itself suddenly snuffed. The dwarf caught the unmistakable huffing of his steed. The chick operated unflinchingly in the darkness without remark or hesitation. Vibrations closing in, he gasped, forced himself under the goo¡¯s surface as the wind of the beast¡¯s followup whipped his legs. He yelped as claws crashed down into his gut, blood drawn and mixed into the viscera. Above, the hogsect popped itself out from the ceiling, the wet bearded being below aware of its tiny wings buzzing up and away until they could be heard no longer. He knew himself abandoned then.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The dwarf dove to avoid another assault from the screeching creature ahead of him and spat up inadvertent samplings of the filth made floor. He yelled again for Waspig. He heard no one. Exercising his dwarfen lungs to their fullest capacity, the dwarf caught himself crying out for his mother. When she escaped his lips, his head spun and sent the dwarf down back to the goo. The overgrown fledgling prepared itself to seize its prey. The dwarf could do little but send tears into the disgusting liquid beneath him and his adversary; murderer. He thought of the further pain he¡¯d soon endure; possible regeneration dulling none. The dwarf considered his own part in his death, the disturbing of a creature within its own home. He could not bring himself to hate the beast--only the bitter circumstances.


    Above, the eggshell roof collapsed suddenly and entirely under the massive weight of Waspig, crushing the chicken entirely while sparing the drenched dwarf. He smiled weakly and laid for some time before willing himself up and forward. Staggering and slipping towards the crystal white reflecting the moon above, mounting, stumbling out from shell and onto grass wet with dew. The dwarf fell flat on his face. Damp but undaunted, he laughed his lungs to exhaustion.


    After, he became very still and quiet. He thought of his mother again as his battleworn hands reached behind Waspig¡¯s ears. Unwilling to stand, the dwarf continued rolling himself until a splash into the river ensued, Waspig put then to alert, the dwarf emerging and continuing his cheer in rambunctious ignorance. He washed the grime from his body, scrubbing his bare hands against the filth that had accumulated since his burial and becoming. The dwarf rinsed his dwarfen teeth and gums, grinding his thick fingers across both repeatedly. He whipped his beard up into his face and fell backwards. Allowing the water contact with his eyes, the dwarf gazed beneath the surface and caught the milky white and its speckled backdrop, branches many, dark clouds obscuring one another. He willed himself around to face the existence of strange shrimp-like felines that scattered about in the voluminous mist maintained across the riverbed. Illuminated rocks of gorgeous, unbelievable colors supported swift moving shadows below minnow-like beings in schools over. Bursting back through the surface and to his pet¡¯s delight, the dwarf found himself unable to then ignore the thick rustling of the walls of trees above and the atmosphere of a night life dancing around him. His creature joined the cacophonies of sound rising into and throughout the air from littler beings sneaking past the river, up bark and both banks.


    Returning to the shore with Waspig in tow, the dwarf cleaned his creature too of its worn glory, gently as his haired tips allowed. The two then waded out from the water and laid back across the ground, wet on wet. One shook its fur; the other his beard. Together they drifted off to a sleep only the sun would interrupt.

 CHAPTER ELEVEN

    The dwarf awoke alone. The sun had performed its job of drying, his skin and hair only wet with dew pooled around him. It all splashed off to the soil, the stout frame smashing their corpses as he bent himself up out from the glare above. The dwarf scanned his surroundings for Waspig. The river rushed to his right. Behind, bricks of nature stacked themselves high to support the wall of trees that continued rustle, all forming a horseshoe to round the dwarf. Directly ahead mist had not yet burned, and the church, egg, and hole he¡¯d escaped menaced from the west. This last direction crunched and snorted. Too the dwarf¡¯s stomach growled. In a handful of days he¡¯d eaten a handful of carrots, his palms empty else. He bounced the conflicting ideas of a pet search party and berry foraging against each other until finding himself unable any longer to ignore the continued noise.


    The dwarf investigated.


    Drawing close, the snarling source echoed out from yesterday¡¯s battlefield--bleached white. He drew his breath and hoisted his frame over cracked eggshell, carefully steadying himself to avoid slipping back into the viscera. There he found his pet tearing at the exposed flesh of the fallen. The dwarf¡¯s eyebrows pressed themselves against each other as he turned his gaze gut-wards. With one more glance towards the beast, the dwarf was back over onto the grass, hobbling then into a slow walk.


    Butterflies rested themselves on stump and log, the latter of which ecosystems of shroom and moss draped atop. Upon closer inspection, the dwarf realized, each butterfly sprouted fungus from head to spine. He watched one break off from its group and flutter over to rest near the river, at which a nearly Waspig-weighted frog crept from cover and shot its tongue. A fish bounced out from the nearby water and too became its prey.


    The dwarf wandered away.


    The sun hung. Wishing for a hat once worn under warm weather, the dwarf lost himself to daydreams. The round brim cast great shields of shadows, he remembered, and it always kept his head cool, the dwarf¡¯s bald dome now particularly unignorable. He retreated soon to the wall of earth and dirt, the burning star¡¯s trajectory still constant as it descended towards town. He placed his hands against the cliff face and held his head down, beads of sweat dripping into a pond of itself. His stomach cried out in protest of the conditions endured, but the dwarf could do little else than sympathize. He¡¯d found no berries.


    The dwarf then found berries, a bush sprinkled onto by bald he realized. He studied the things intently, not yet pulling any from their stems. Each¡¯s color gleamed red, a saturation seen much of in recent days to his distaste. But he plucked a berry from the bush and gently tore the fruit in two, fingering a dribbling of its juice into the pocket of his lips. An announcement of some levels gained in ¡®SURVIVAL¡¯ appeared before him. However...


    Bitter.


    He spat the thing and kicked at its siblings in anger. The dwarf¡¯s teeth clenched. He marched forward with the wall to his side while juggling not a thought at all. His worn feet splashed straight through the river past toads of all sizes. Soon, he inadvertently completed his crescent pathed walk and found he could again see fully the settlement spied before, a bountiful collection of buildings nestled on a faraway shore that wore its blues well, he admitted. His lips salivated as he considered the cooks that concealed themselves within, far off as they were; the vegetables they harvested, alien as they may be. The dwarf thought of the cakes. He thought of his mother¡¯s. His gut roared.


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    A frog heftier than any previously observed crept from the bank, fungus dotting its massive head, the dwarf would learn fast. Without hesitation the thing blasted its pink munition out onto the dwarf¡¯s back. His feet left the ground as wind rushed past both sides, hands flailing useless. A cave closed in around him.


    Resting on wet flesh, the dwarf regained his composure enough to understand the digestion that¡¯d soon follow. He attempted to scramble to his feet only to slide and plop face first back onto the tongue beneath. Before realizing, he rolled, bumping up against the cave¡¯s sealed lips. The dwarf began pounding his fists against them causing the creature to retaliate and shake itself, the dwarf violently flung around within. Amidst the chaos the beast gaped its maw allowing light to illuminate an engorged uvula, the dwarf compelled to action following recovery. He rolled himself against the lips for a second time, next using leverage provided by the seal to prop his legs up which, with great effort, they did in straight bends. As the creature traveled, so did the dwarf¡¯s desired angle change. Moments passed and he seized his chance, leaping off the frog¡¯s flesh and towards that which hung from its roof. His attempt to seize failed and the dwarf crashed against the back of the frog¡¯s throat. Stunned, it came to his horror to realize a retaliation by digestion had begun. The concept of ¡®LOADING¡¯ a ¡®SAVE¡¯ rested in mist to the dwarf; even if physically, he could not be sure he¡¯d survive mentally.


    Thus regaining quick his composure, the dwarf kicked his legs at the back of the frog¡¯s throat, a gag reflex shooting the dwarf in an arc back towards the tongue. Landing sickly, he rolled against lips once more and, a deep and unfortunate tasting breath after, brought his great fists crashing back down against the cave entrance. Another tossing was sure to quickly follow, and so the dwarf braced himself. The timing of his leap off the vibration of the swallower brought the dwarf successfully onto the uvula.


    Stirred fast into a frenzy, desperate to rid itself of the clinging parasite, the massive frog thrashed. But the dwarf refused the calls to release his hands, listening only to his own pangs of unbelievable hunger. Persistence paid off as he exited in spilled vomit, the frog disturbed, deflated, and unable to will its own flee. The dwarf leapt then atop the creature, pounding his bruised fists onto its head bashing a concussion into the predator until it toppled dead. The dwarf fell beside the corpse, his growling stomach rising and deflating with as then yet unseen acceleration.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 6¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 7¡±...


    Night arrived as too did a fire born from wood and ¡®EXP¡¯, the dwarf¡¯s ¡®SURVIVAL¡¯ soaring past many others. Waspig had arrived from across the river, filth from the egg once more washed away in its wake, the two then cooperating in cooking the defeated¡¯s limbs from detachment to dinner. The dwarf maneuvered through these processes in a dejected dour, allowing his body to act autonomously in avoidance of death. The first bite he ate following the frog¡¯s roast loosened a store more of tears. His pet looked on unable to earn any enlightening, and so it returned to its second feast. Energy began restoring itself within the dwarf¡¯s body as the last of the flames snuffed, he then laying his frame down next to fire dried fur. Together they drifted off to a sleep the sun would not see.

 CHAPTER TWELVE

    Kneeling alone beneath the rattling steeple¡¯s roof lay the dwarf, occupying the outer side of the church¡¯s walls, fled to within moments of awakening to torrential downpour. Clouds smothered the sky gray as dirt came to be mud and the river roared with teeth. To cross the latter, the dwarf had had to clutch Waspig. He watched his pet now play carelessly in the rain, that which came down onto the pigsect with the same force it did the shingles above, sound bellowing below. hollow echoes after. Upon first returning to the church, the dwarf had tried the door, defeated into resting his dome against the dry thick wood blocking they and safety--he and ¡®SAVING¡¯, an act he¡¯d been unable to repeat. The dwarf had suffered through too many ordeals, he argued, unsure of what will was wieldable in the face of repetition. Climbing stairs was one challenge--to have them slide into a ramp felt crueler than death. This spurred his thoughts into a spiral. What was death now? Was he the only one capable of defeating the concept? Was the tree which doomed him¡¯s end not guaranteed? Waspig splashed its full frame onto a puddle sending speckles of dirt against the stained glass just hairs from the dwarf, much to the latter¡¯s dissatisfaction. The pet looked up at its owner with guilt glossed eyes, dozen there were. He noticed his creature¡¯s tusks had washed clean of blood, a feat to outdo the river. It returned to its games.


    But with his belly full and sleep well gained despite the circumstances of the morning, the dwarf decided to allow a peaceful melancholy wash over and strip clean the sudden dour. He continued to regret his situation and its perpetrator, but the dwarf could not ignore the peace he and his new pet had been granted. Indeed, Waspig continued to roll in glee, brown overtaking pink. Despite having just dried off, the dwarf drew himself out from cover for play as well. The two bounced around aimlessly, Waspig¡¯s antennae wagging in excitement. The dwarf spotted a smooth pebble resembling the sort he¡¯d bounce to sheepdogs in days past. His days now, he realized, would be engaged to fetch with the bewildering matrimony of insect and swine. But no bile rose. Waspig retrieved the rock with a display of intense satisfaction each and every time, a hidden mechanism in his instinct found and scratched. The dwarf stroked his creature tenderly, the two drenched in what would not cease soon.


    Having returned beneath the steeple, the dwarf shivered. His animal had joined him, dozing off into a curl. But he could not bring himself to share its wetness, so he sat and suffered alone. The dwarf began to berate himself once more for sealing the shelter¡¯s entrance. He roused himself atop his feet and wandered back and forth under shelter, pacing with no attention particularly paid to anything but his impatience. The dwarf stopped then dead still in a sudden cease seeing a sack against the steeple  yet disturbed, full of protrusions, sloped up against brick. He took his large fingers and pulled the bag¡¯s string loose revealing a storage of dry wood. A plan began to take shape within the dwarf¡¯s bald dome. To ensure this being his only resort, he thumped the windows hard. And goading his sleep seeking pet into attacking the glass proved futile. But the dwarf grabbed at his decent beard mellowing in a satisfaction suspected possible...


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°SURVIVAL INCREASED TO 10¡±


    A fire crept slowly round and up the heavy double doors it scorched. Before the dwarf the church¡¯s entrance blazed, shielded still from rain by the shingles above. He smiled strangely at his fire making escapades resulting in such a bounty of ¡®SURVIVAL¡¯, unsure of the connection beyond warmth. He considered the words his father would use to describe the sight--and its perpetrator. A wave of shame splashed in his face, the dwarf recoiling from a stray singing. But Waspig sat still and watched the glow with sustained curiosity. Together the two awaited the fruits of their fire.


    Several hours and levels later, the clouds above smoked themselves into pitch


    black, only the church to argue otherwise in its fit of red and oranges. The dwarf felt his impatience rise at the speed--or lack thereof--of the door¡¯s burning, making a motion to step over the charred remains of the door only to find his stout form limited and singed further. Around the corner he took a seat against brick with Waspig and stared into seemingly endless downpour. Several fungus headed toads hopped together along the river, then below. Lightning marked its presence with a show demanded of its caliber, each brief illumination casting enormous shadows from the smoke billowing upwards. No enjoyment was had of this by Waspig.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    By the time the dwarf returned to check on the progress of his arson, he noticed immediately not only the door had been reduced to ash and rot but the red rolled carpet too caught and paid a sprawling price. Waspig waddling behind, the dwarf stepped over charred candelabras making a grand return to the church, coronating the moment with the blank book laid open at the altar.


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±


    He did, and he did. The dwarf turned round and caught a glance of the hole crawled out from in days past, a flinch rising, rain still falling. Completing the turn, the dwarf found his creature on guard, teeth bared and wings twitching in warning. A tall figure stood in the doorway, hatchet in its hands. Coming into the light, the dwarf realized it to be only vaguely humanoid. The stranger¡¯s legs strode forward with the confidence and bend of muscles upright, but its upper torso repulsively stretched into a wide mushroom, its cap crisped as the carpet. Arms spilled out from beneath the head in a variety of lengths and directions, some ending in human-like paws and others, nothing, a few equipped with torch and parasol. Two eyes could be realized from beneath the cap, no nose present above the jaw that unhinged to evidently speak.


    ¡°WHO DARES SET SUCH SIN ABLAZE...?¡±...


    Red roared accepting its prize: fresh log. Above laid an arc of mantle of which supported miniature paintings, each sealed behind a variety of intricate frames. Within one, a mushroom headed being not dissimilar to whom the dwarf encountered within God¡¯s halls waved mightily with its many arms. Another picture sported a smaller version of the sentient fungus, and a third, the both of them, joy expressed as well as the dwarf could ascertain. The dwarf himself rested on a padded wooded couch, not entirely comfortable yet relishing the unbelievable upgrade in quality of rest. Three blankets smothered him. When the talking toadstool offered just one, it either misheard or cared in the school of cruel hospitality, returning with two more in tow. The dwarf thanked it regardless and said little else, his eyes comfortable in the gaze of oranges and yellows. The being sat itself near the dwarf in an equally unpleasant looking armchair, an ¡°Aah¡± escaping from the noseless face regardless. Behind, the window watched the green dotted planet travel across a clear night sky.


    ¡°Fungus bread finishing soon,¡± it announced, or warned. The dwarf nodded gently, then nodded off himself...


    ¡°Fungus bread finished,¡± it woke the dwarf to. The fire spoke little. It occurred to the dwarf the night might not be last¡¯s but its successor. Despite the stiff sleeping conditions, he knew himself much renewed over any awakening previous since his becoming. The dwarf still laid sore and with aching throughout, but he allowed another wave of peace to wash over. Before realizing it, a spoonful of fungus bread shoved itself into his mouth accompanied by a terrifying attempt at choo-chooing--at least, the dwarf considered so. Two hands reached out to grab his beard and jaw, a third resting atop his dome. The chewing began, the feeling of pampering in this manner unpleasant. He swallowed. He fell asleep once more...


    A church sermon began just as the boy returned to the auditorium sneaking past push doors with head bent low. He managed to re-identify his father in the sea of seniors, the boy soon marooned on an island far from neighboring continents. His ear jerked in the air: reprimanding. The boy¡¯d only been to the bathroom, but he restrained a pout. The preacher worked himself into a frenzy, the issue picked apart unintelligible to the child. The boy smelled ash. He turned to his father and the man of mushroom forced another spoonful of bread down his throat, then stacked no less than fifteen blankets atop him. A train blared and the pastor dove just barely avoiding a gruesome fate. The audience suffered uniquely, runaway cars smearing elders across floors and walls. The child screamed his guts out but found the sheets and comforters dampened his range, no ears to prick. The giant chicken slain within the egg returned and mounted the stage, pecking at the preacher who sent the clucking beast on a seemingly endless chase. A fire overtook curtains and congregation. The boy¡¯s chair began to seriously discomfort him, and he shifted atop the padded wood fruitlessly. It sunk through the tile, and the boy¡¯s face sprouted feathers. The dwarf collapsed onto the floor vibrating black wood from out beneath the mantle, chips scattering in all directions. The sun poured through a window offering consolation, a replacement for his lost fabric. The fungus considered now friend blasted through the halls and into the parlor, screeching:


    ¡°WHO DARES TRESPASS INTO THE HOME OF... Dwarf. Eating logs?¡±

 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    ¡°It is a rarity meeting elf, fishfolk--even human up these cliffs.¡±


    A mushroom bloomed outward scarlet, underside of gold absent of scent digestion, gazed across its parlor. Many appendages hung from beneath its ribbed ceiling; some occupied with tea, others fungus bread, and three supported the sides of the stalk they sprouted from as the freakish humanoid leaned far forward from an unappealing armrest.


    ¡°But dwarf, I thought impossible.¡±


    The dwarf, relaxed in an equally discomforting couch, blankets wrapped round his frame taut, expressed his humanity. The fungus laughed. When it shook its head, it seemed to the dwarf thousands of spores were sent on a ballet across the room. The natural light which filtered through a sole pane lit these dancers on their downward routines. The dwarf followed them to the ground whereupon they vanished. He looked back up at the laughing shroom.


    ¡°My, little one, what beard you sport! What bald you have! Both so large I can¡¯t help but laugh! Such thick arms, thick legs, muscles born from caves! You are as human as you are ¡®funguay¡¯.¡±


    The dwarf could not dispense the energy required to argue. His eyes drifted to the window, that distant city captured within a glowing frame, heavy smokestacks rising out from tall jewels dominating great tracts of sand. His thoughts once more came to the chefs and bakers and cooks who he did not doubt populated the settlement with their creations to the brim. He breathed deep and smelled the fresh fish hauled in from rough waters, his reference point a monthly ice truck with cartoon salmon logos plastered across paint. The scent of fungus bread wormed its way through the dwarf¡¯s thick nostrils, and he recoiled, frown held back politely.


    ¡°No dwarf has come to these parts, never. There¡¯s no value for them, no baubles yet found, no caves worth a harvest. Perhaps to the town of fishfolk they¡¯d visit, though the damned would be met with disappointment. For fresh fish...¡±


    The funguay licked his lips, his thoughts clearly submerged. The dwarf glanced around the room feeling rather revitalized and renewed. His aching came and went, his strength still spent, but the dwarf felt fine. So what seemed wrong? The dwarf narrowed his eyes--an absence. He hopped to his feet at once demanding the whereabouts of Waspig, the shroom startled, sheets unraveling undone and falling to the floor to reveal a nude form mercifully obscured by hair. But it recovered.


    ¡°Ahhh. It does seem the dwarf has proven himself naturally gifted in husbandry despite such meager levels...¡±


    The dwarf, taken aback to hear mention of that which had appeared before him countlessly since his dwarfening, became moved to shout a series of questions rapidly regarding ¡®EXP¡¯, the skills of ¡®HUSBANDRY¡¯ and ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯, among others, the inconceivable resurrection made possible by a blank bible of this world--and what was this world, and where was Waspig? The mushroom hatted homeowner threw its multitude of hands up in protest and rose from its seat to scoot the ¡°hot headed and disruptive nudist¡± out the parlor¡¯s door. Onto sloshy dirt beneath blue, grass and flowers scattered themselves in patches with one caught within the nostril of an insect of porcine properties. Freeing itself, the creature turned to the sudden noise of the slammed door and galloped over with a wag in its antennae. Dwarf and Waspig reunited, he rubbed his dome against the latter¡¯s chin and accepted the reverse with a wide smile, his whiskers bouncing. The animal fluttered about its bounty of feed and seed and was quick to reveal to its owner a new trick in which it arched its back towards puddles of mud to then scatter in long arcs following the furious flutter of its wings. Waspig impressed the dwarf.


    Birds--many mushroom capped--flocked to the thatched roof of the moss dominated cottage. Stains proved a long history shared between straw and all. Above, bulbous clouds wet white washed over a deeply saturated canvas hugging the earth close as if to watch over the day previous¡¯ work, that which Waspig wicked in a flurry. The city out along the shore could not evade the dwarf¡¯s noticing again for long, their kitchen fires¡¯ roars unending, and the dwarf blessed his luck for capturing sight of the purported fishing vessels his imagination had desperately assured him of. Out they left in a school of three, thick smog blasting out their jets. The distance choked the finer details, quite a series of cliffs and plains to cut through between he and the seamen.


    The timing proved itself doubly fruitful for the dwarf realized a series of creatures from his childhood picture books stomped before him, albeit by a great many miles, traveling in a horizontal herd with massive limbs that dwarfed his own. Indeed, he would later learn such tusked creatures of thick fat and hide were known by local eyes as icons of oil, its nicknames ranging anywhere from ¡®baron¡¯ to ¡®firestarter¡¯. But by bald origins in a world where hair once sprouted atop his scalp and thick masses of black pumped at prices immune to decrease, a boy on a farm read a book that described the hefty wooly walkers as ¡®mammoths¡¯.


    They marched--the mammoths--with the dwarf captivated by complete unbelievability. He weighed the notion of the sight on a similar level as to witnessing a dinosaur--and to think of his father¡¯s thoughts on seeing either spurred laughter and embarrassment in quick succession, Waspig perplexed. His observing did not end at the one trail of tusked wanderers for four more appeared from the east and west, different tribes of the same hulking cloth visiting one another only momentarily--like cars crossing roads, the dwarf compared, conceding though they were all a bit slower. He maintained his gaze until the last of the stompers exited the stage where the dwarf¡¯s cone of vision could travel no further. He hoped to meet one.


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    When the dwarf turned round to face his pet, he found the creature returned his glance with the same bared fangs it wielded within hallowed halls--or rather, his gaze felt a hair higher. The porcine beast grunted and produced air in a rush, its stance obviously adversarial. The dwarf met his pet¡¯s hostility with confusion, raising a hand to feel over his dread-less dome in what felt a vain effort in assuaging the mysterious whim of Waspig, until his thick fingers met an unexpected resistance. Rubbing along the base of his bald, he realized a thin, cylindrical tube sprouted out from the center of his scalp. Traveling not far upwards, the stem flared out under a ribbed roof, the other side smoothly imitating the top of the dwarf¡¯s head. He sprinted to a puddle and found staring back at him a speckle dotted mushroom shot from his head. To the cottage¡¯s back door the dwarf soon crashed up against, his fists banging in quick unison until an answer arrived.


    ¡°WHO DARES... Ahhh, that¡¯s growing well. I¡¯m glad to see it.¡±


    The dwarf attempted to yank the interloper out from his scalp.


    ¡°Cease! Stay your hand, stout one. You won¡¯t survive it. Leave the mud tracker for now--come.¡±


    Reluctantly, the dwarf allowed himself shoved and escorted down a cellar and through a series of halls, doors, stairs, doors, halls, stairs to such a degree his toadstool topped head began rubberbanding until at last coming to rest deep in the bowels of a laboratory so outlandish, its volumes and flasks brimming with cyans, magentas, yellows, its play things ranging from cloves of garlic to catfish guts, the dwarf could not shake the connection to pulp fiction thumbed by the dozens in both barn and bedroom. The funguay who had ensured the dwarf reach his destination gestured for the guest to observe its mushrooms potted along brown rows of rock. They appeared a sad sight.


    ¡°What we have before us now, so coincidentally lowered to your leisure, are what will turn failures.¡±


    The cottage¡¯s master mustered a vial and delivered its contents to just one mycelia. The dwarf watched with hesitation as seemingly nothing transpired--then, it was as if the mushroom were made by Mary, it rising to life with a gaunt expression. Both watched the fungus begin writhing, babbling, sputtering. The funguay took it into its many hands and bored a hole within the wretched thing rendering it dead. It turned to the dwarf.


    ¡°They make wonderful loaves. Be assured, what grows atop your shining real estate will not meet this same fate--that is precisely why I seized the opportunity that so stoutly made use of my... hospitality. This should be fair, of course.¡±


    Unable to articulate the violation he felt, the dwarf opted to turn and attempt a rapid exit of the laboratory. But the dwarf navigated aimlessly, lost in the great maze floors beneath the earth. The funguay remained still until meeting his guest again.


    ¡°It will be some time until yours... hatches, if you¡¯re familiar.¡±


    The dwarf was and he vocalized it, once more repeating his human origins, elaborating on his farm, his father, the animals left behind. This time the scientist seemed to listen, the dwarf detailing his dark descent and rise out from the hole he only barely managed, the meeting of Waspig and their escape from the church, the breaking and entering through fire and flame that culminated in the red dotted parasite now erect above a frustrated brow. Two hands meanwhile reached out to thoughtfully stroke the funguay¡¯s chin throughout the retelling of the dwarf¡¯s hardships-- then three, four, more until he concluded.


    ¡°Dear dwarf, I did not realize what it took to bring you here before me. Perhaps it was God. And if it is ordained, I feel all the more morally fortified. All this to say: shall I have a look at you, dwarf? Really, a good one?¡±


    The dwarf did not wear the air of acceptance--fear and confusion more apt--but the funguay continued forward.


    ¡°Your biology must be fascinating. I should record it all for His people. After perhaps another dozen spawn. Recoil not, I couldn¡¯t allow for any harm to come to you during our... studies--we¡¯d compromise the baby--and many more.¡±


    The dwarf turned and crashed into an array of flasks that shattered by means of he and floor. A thundering vibration rang throughout the bowels of the cottage, and the funguay lunged forward with a weaving of arms all snaking towards the dwarf, who in turn ducked and crawled across the lab and under another desk of equipment. The hostile homeowner shoved a cart of tools aside rolling its contents out among tile. As the dwarf¡¯s predator drew close, Waspig burst through an entrance and sent its stabber directly towards the path of the advancing mycelium. The funguay stepped several feet back, turning then to the wall to retrieve its hung hatchet. The dwarf, meanwhile, hoisted himself atop his pet and swooped over to the opposite end. His experimenter continued its campaign at the top of its lungs:


    ¡°IT WAS A MISTAKE TO SPARE THE HOG... BUT JUST WAIT FOR ITS OWN!¡±


    Screeches suddenly emitted from the advancing fungus, horrible tones born from terrible pain as its feet tread the barbed and sharp tools that decorated tile. The dwarf and Waspig escaped from where he foresaw his own guts exposed, flapping through countless doors and stairs all sped through as fast as Waspig could manage. The dwarf¡¯s beard blew behind him in two waves, fear fast on his pet as he felt kicks and slams denoting the funguay¡¯s advances. Scent led the hog in a sudden sharp turn, and the dwarf could do little else than trust in its hooves. Muffled, their pursuer wailed:


    ¡°I AM A SHROOM OF GOD... IT WAS NOT I WHO TORCHED HIS DOORS...¡±


    A final climb revealed he stood back in the parlor with the sun nearly finishing its set. Before the dwarf would exit, he grabbed at the iron poker mounted next to the fireplace, accidentally stumbling into the ornate framed portraits sent plummeting to the floorboards, the poker clumsily slipping and rolling away. He did not hesitate for the funguay¡¯s reaction, tucking Waspig under his arm--it fluttering for slack--and the two burst out from the clouds of loaves¡¯ scent and back within crisp air. The dwarf inhaled and, renewed, the toadstool atop him bobbing with breezes, Waspig¡¯s squealing, the dwarf dashed from the moss topped cottage and into the forest before the cliffs before the plains before the shining city on the shoreline.

 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

    Evening filtered its way through treetops stretched high nearly piercing the clouds above. All bark spied were scarred with the remnants of bird and rodent alike. Green sprouted from wooden webs, stooped low off vines, crawled along the ground the dwarf and his pet tread. They had arrived a fair distance from the fled cottage, regrettably the dwarf traveling with a souvenir atop a bald dwarfen dome. Perhaps were a natural canopy not already as all encompassing as the stout eye could see would he have appreciated the shade the scarlet bloomed mushroom offered--as it stood, he hated the thing. Worse, his worried glances towards Waspig came backed with legitimized fear--had the funguay threatened truthfully. The swinesect, meanwhile, fluttered and bounced without care.


    At first the tall towers erected around the two offered much space between--this relationship soon dissipated, the dwarf faced with rising his limited limbs above logs and endless spiraling roots, trunks old and filled with life, their surfaces sporting various multicolored jewels vibrating among one another. The dwarf¡¯s love extended to many animals, but insects caused concern. His contradiction squealed with delight chasing the forest¡¯s tiniest denizens. Averting his gaze, the dwarf trudged on and over.


    ¡°ATHLETICS INCREASED TO 19¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS INCREASED TO 20¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS INCREASED TO 21¡±


    He tired, and the dwarf¡¯s pet too dragged its hooves. They settled down atop stumps draped in nature, their view a deep ravine running from far west to an endless east. Thick trees dominated both sides of the gap, bridges of bark high up climbable only were one as little as the legged gems, the dwarf reckoned. He did not relish the flight he and Waspig would have to undertake in order to cross. Momentarily he considered following the cliff face on either side until its length ran out, but the dwarf knew the stores left within his stomach--mushroom loaf, he regretted; the two would not make it far after. Least, were the hermit scientist in pursuit, putting a fissure between himself and the villain would do well for evasion. His fists clenched in repeated cycles. He whistled Waspig to attention and mounted the beast.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 11¡±


    Their runway lit with the day¡¯s final embers, the dwarf began shifting his frame one way and another to get his feet into a running start--wheels that would gift Waspig a proper liftoff. It, keenly aware of the situation, readied its wings--an excited twitch coursing throughout. The dwarf¡¯s toes touched the last of the wood as he and his craft swept themselves up into the air, their flight over the canyon begun. What seemed miles stretched uncountably into the distance, that edge across absolute heaven. Hundreds of similar insects, though less hog and more shroom, their shapes infinitely smaller, joined the pair--many directly in the flightpath. The dwarf shut his eyes against the rushing wind and insecticide, his beard whipping in brainless defense. He looked below deep into the black, its contents populated by his imagination--a force overworked and ceaseless. He gripped his pet perhaps tighter than necessary, fear overwritten. Nevertheless:


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 12¡±


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    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 13¡±


    It occurred to the dwarf the horizontality maintained during takeoff had not kept steady, their destination seemingly higher and further out from reach. He pat the hog beneath him to refocus its attention, the gesture meaningless to a creature being pushed against its limits. The dwarf shook, his mind cursing for so recklessly advancing across the gorge than around, an option unblessed by ignorance and reinforced by simple, stupid logic. His pet had become so needlessly endangered when he just as well could have foraged along a journey elsewhere. Perhaps friendlier funguay--with finer tasting loaves--were a possibility. Perhaps anything other than death, the dwarf mused. The fungus atop his head resisted the unrelenting breeze firmly to his free hand¡¯s surprise. They still sank. Quickly his eyes dispensed water to the wind and his teeth tightened. He slammed his naked heel into Waspig¡¯s hind, the creature letting loose a harrowing squeal in response and rising sharply. The end loomed now below yet beyond evermore. But the dwarf gasped and regained his breath, brushing his animal for forgiveness. Its fluttering continued weakly.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 15¡±


    While Waspig tired, its form once again stooping, the dwarf ceased his sweat confident in arriving across the ravine. Still he ran his fingers through its wild hairs, soothing his pet for its performance. Light evaporated meanwhile at a steady pace, orange and yellow overtaking green.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 16¡±


    Somewhat nearly within reach the opposite end drew near, its dominating treeline supporting the very ceiling of the forest. Waspig paddled like the sheep dogs of home, its wings stuttering. The distance felt possible to reach out towards. Instead he kept the tracing of his fingertips steady, his appreciation shared muffled under windy snow.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 17¡±


    Out from crevices ranging from bush to branch to trunk to tree a variety of sharp eared humanoids leapt and drew back their collective arms. The dwarf could not recall much of the elements before him, fast as they all entered the scene, quickly as he and his pet left it, Waspig¡¯s muscles seizing from exhaustion and plummeting them into freefall, arrows smothering the canopy above already fast into the night¡¯s blot. Accelerating the further they fell, the two became beaten by unrepentant branches, absorbed into a mist stained dark and all encompassing.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 18¡±...


    Awakening airborne, the dwarf found his stout frame launching to such wild gyroscopic motions he could not accurately ascertain above, below, east or west. Gradually the violent swaying slowed to gentle rocking. He soon realized his entangling and, thus, suspension. Around all sides nothing glinted or shined, the ravine¡¯s continuing depths full of hostile possibilities. The dwarf spat. He heard nothing. His throat caught itself. He kicked his legs and felt wood chip away, so he grew still and listened. For a great while the dwarf hung his head in disappointment; a splash rang. The sound brought the dwarf to misty, nostalgic eyes once having escaped moss and web wrapped danger in similar echolocating fashion. He bashed the base of the tree repeatedly with exposed feet bludgeoning his soles and no doubt bleeding all down his opponent¡¯s armor. Several more twigs and chunks and other limbs fell into the shrouded body of water below--an expectation significantly without merit, he wildly considered, the dwarf¡¯s exposure to lethal liquid in such dangerous lands as this not remotely outlandish, his encounters having ranged from enlarged farm animals to sinister sentient shrooms. He felt atop his head: the latter¡¯s remnants endured. The dwarf remembered the facing of his own pet as a once hostile force--he froze. All hung still. Sweat slipped between vines taut.


    Where was Waspig?

 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

    He continued his hanging, the dwarf, the dark too hazardous to chance an escape during. He attempted to render himself asleep--a futile effort, his dwarfen mind overwhelmed with morbid possibilities concerning Waspig¡¯s fate. But--¡¯dwarfen mind¡¯? Surely though his presentation in totality came as dwarf, the engines within were greased and lubed in human blood--that same which enveloped the synapses of mankind. His beard itched. He struggled loose a free arm, thick as it was. Satisfying the dwarfen desire--this thought paused him regardless of suspension. Human is the gesture of scratching for pleasure, he reasoned. Who else? But then, what had he already seen? A tentacle sprouted fungus, the funguay. A bizarre bee and pig offspring, his Waspig. He called its name aloud, the dwarf¡¯s cries bouncing back at himself with force before their repel to the other side, looping on less and less into death. No answer sought the dwarf but his own. He hung his hanging head. He realized even the monkey satisfies its urge to itch. Eventually the sleep the dwarf wished for materialized, though his lids¡¯ closing proved once more indistinguishable from sight...


    The ravine, though still permeated with a dark mist, became a victim of the prenoon sun¡¯s rays. Waking to warmth, the dwarf was allowed to ascertain his situation and surroundings: trees grew along the sides of the cliff stooping massive vines, these harboring their own slightly smaller versions of such, and so forth. The size eventually less than his arms, vines nonetheless trapped the dwarf in a natural cage dozens of feet above what did, in fact, appear to be a large pond of welcoming blue water. He breathed a sigh of relief pleased to avoid having to slowly shuffle down bark, that which ran into the base of the pit itself--within which he could not spy Waspig¡¯s colors. It took relentless wriggling and concentration of effort to escape the tentacles, and he could not avoid an ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯ level declaration in the process. The dwarf managed loose much of his upper frame and prepared himself for a lengthy dive. Terror grabbed at his thick throat upon realizing the degree to which his efforts would be set back in death--the ravine, unflown. The forest, untraversed. The funguay, yet escaped. In fact, it would be their very moment of meeting--he and the hermit--his last save saw. At least Waspig¡¯s safety then came guaranteed. The dwarf called for his pet again, gruff lungs reverberating and little else.


    ¡°ENTERTAINMENT SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ENTERTAINMENT SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    The dwarf rejoiced in deep puzzlement. His haired feet firm on the fled prison, he swung and swayed till satisfied in the gravity, or perhaps until enough courage had grown. In either case the dwarf leapt, arcing through light penetrated mist down deep into the black heart of the canyon, its blue twinkling invitingly, his own reflection and shadow coming fast into view. Crashing with enough force to shower nearby fauna and mushroom headed critters alike, the dwarf plunged far. The wet wildlife fled as he produced his form from beneath the rippling surface, beard soaked and once more whipping its owner.


    ¡°SWIMMING SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Had he suffered no shortage of falls prior to the newly discovered skill? The dwarf wrestled with the concept of ¡®EXP¡¯ in between spray and foam, eventually making his way to the stone shore absentmindedly. He vibrated his extremities extremely so, the appearance of his sheep dogs ridding themselves of drowned coats hanging a smile on the shaker. He noticed as much gazing upon the sight of himself--caught on a snare. Waspig whips in the wake of rain, too, he remembered. A frown took shape in the pool. The dwarf wandered away.


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    Mushrooms--freckled, spotted, spiked, oily--dominated a great portion of the lit area, the dwarf utterly conscious of their likely meaning. He also felt afraid of the evening and the return to a void state. Many roots, trunks as ridiculous as the limbs of his picture book mammoths¡¯, filled much real estate. Such sported bones and skulls of a wide variety--the dwarf recognized humanity¡¯s shape as well, then horse¡¯s, chicken¡¯s, massive tusks of obvious source--the recognitions ended nearly there. He was not quite sure whether funguay possessed bones, but no alien head matched what had been fled. Many bulged in strange ways--the skulls--the dwarf unable to imagine their reskinning. One, on closer inspection, somewhat matched the description of a porcine bug. He cupped and called Waspig once more, navigating the boneyard with repeated yells. While his voice seemed consistent in delivery and bounce-back, one particular call sailed straight and never returned. His direction changed, and the dwarf discovered chipped rock overwhelmed with moss smothering the entrance to what seemed a passage. Its cavernous guts hid, and the dwarf realized his remaining time under the sun seemed best spent indeed under.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 23¡±


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    The bounty of trees provided an excellent source of sap, the dwarf basking a somewhat smoothed branch that dripped in clumps after. Dry wood clashed and vibrated in his hands to create fire, a process well practiced before a defeated, deflated toadstool topped toad. To this end he produced a wet pit for flames to continue on canyon land. His stomach became painfully aware of its own existence after, and the dwarf broke to scavenge. Carts laid smashed or obliterated in several spots which the dwarf searched haphazardly, though still collecting a decent amount of coin and, more edible, vegetables yet to rot. He mounted these--the food, the coins he simply dropped having nowhere to store them--and cooked the contents in sap. An optimistic side of the stout firestarter seemed confident the pervading aroma of sauteed crops would lure a lost Waspig back to its owner. A more worried school of thinking considered the other types of monsters possibly brought to the smoke and flames, but he shook such negativity from his mind and focused on feasting. Even well past lunch, the plan¡¯s resolution did not materialize--only levels.


    ¡°COOKING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    Sunlit hours dwindled away as dusk came and took light from the ravine, basking its contents and creatures in familiar darkness. A haze too overtook. The dwarf entered the rock opening, light in hand, the wood in his wake reduced to dust.


    Only dwarf and torch trekked the blackness. Winding paths turned him round in enough directions to force away any sense of south, no north in sight. Various chitters echoed from crevices above. Their octaves rose and dropped fast like anvils, and the dwarf felt them. While some part of him pulled his interest towards the otherworldly species, he felt an irrational yet unshakeable anxiety mount itself in his mind speaking ill and warning of worse as time ticked in the dark. He quickened his pace.


    It surprised the dwarf to gradually hear crackling, soon stumbling upon warm tones of flame against cave. He leaned his own light in a squat and snuck away with cautious interest. The further he crept, louder became the sounds of what seemed society: chatter and laughter and the production of food. Despite having already taken a recent meal, the dwarf¡¯s head drifted to the dishes being prepped within the depths, its chefs surely separate from the bow-armed antagonists above. Anything went in this strange world, he admitted to himself, and so he could only hope for reasonable sentience.


    Turning the corner with beard tucked, a variety of shacks and other housing littered a misaligned and ragged milky rock flooring, stalagmites and -tites the foundations of a variety of odd structures. All described proved difficult to see, silhouettes dissatisfactory in darkness. Only one source of light blazed enough to welcome the dwarf via tunnel--it billowed in the middle, nursed by vague humanoids, their legs certainly alike but with upper torso instead flared and cock-headed, a multitude of appendages dangling from beneath their caps.


    On their spit roasted a creature of wings, hooves, snout and stinger.

 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 8¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 9¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 10¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 11¡±


    By the point he¡¯d regained consciousness, the dwarf found his fists flying deep into a pulverized funguay¡¯s face leaving behind disturbing craters. If the fungus were animate before, the dwarf had seen to the matter, ¡®EXP¡¯ pocketed as reward. On the dwarf¡¯s right, his torch rolled across translucent white brick, jagged rock it so strangely uniformly was. On his left lied another crushed mushroom topped creature, its sentience pounded out of its head by brutal dwarfen rage. Other funguay fled screeching in various tones. He watched his dad fire pellets warding off opossums. The dwarf trembled, his eyes locked snapping between the victims of his directionless anger. But he soon remembered the why and turned to face the suspended wasp barbed, pig headed creature; rod rammed fully, skin browned and blackened above crackling red. Salty blue made its way down cheeks. The dwarf dropped to his knees and directed powerful blows to the ground, shaking rock and stone apart between absent focused, adrenaline fueled sobs.


    ¡°MINING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    The dwarf howled at the declaration in a tone he would later admit inhuman. Further enraged, the dwarf began seizing the various shacks and shanties assembled, blind fury unfurled. One by one he took to funguay infrastructure and demolished all down to his bone, skin flayed and pounded away, engorged scarlet ringed around the dwarf¡¯s exposed knuckles. Unbeknownst to his episode, a single funguay returned armed with a spear. It descended from its perch under dark and made a stab at the stout scourge, piercing straight through naked flesh round the dwarf¡¯s shoulder blades dropping him quick. The funguay twisted its tool in turn and forced pathetic yelps out the suddenly-made prisoner, his limbs writhing. Sobbing, rubble pressed into his cheek, the dwarf called for his mother. He cried for his father, he couldn¡¯t believe, but the pain had produced unbearable spasms and reactions within him yet ever experienced. Even Waspig¡¯s name stole out from his cries, mind so desperate and wracked he saw no difference in calling the dead--they were all dead. The funguay withdrew the spear and shot it back into another chunk of skin quickly fissured. The dwarf slammed the front of his head repeatedly into the ground busting his nose open. He grit mouthfuls of rocks between teeth. What had he been thinking? Why had he done what he had to the measure he¡¯d taken? If he was at fault ultimately for his fate by fungus hands--of which many reached out to draw the dwarf completely through--then why did he still feel so cheated?


    ¡°HEALTH LOW¡±


    A deep grunted squeal rang out reverberating hard between the ruins of the underground village, iron grating screeching. A sudden shape burst across rock and shot its tusks into the funguay¡¯s chest--approximately; ultimately. The assassin released its grip of the spear and stumbled backwards before the snarling hog seized its prey, wasp wings mad in excitement. The dwarf¡¯s eyes blurred shut, spear falling from his flesh and clattering to white rock...


    The dwarf¡¯s vision shot wide. A surprising warmth had huddled close to his bleeding frame. He stretched an arm gently over to stroke the source, familiar fur felt. An expel of satisfaction came from the creature, and the dwarf knew it then, in no doubt, to be his. Wrung eyes produced streams from a seemingly spent source--all it came out anyway, the dwarf overcome with grief and joy. He sobbed into Waspig¡¯s fur for a great while.


    Getting up, for there were no other choice than to continue his lay and load painfully his ¡®SAVE¡¯, the dwarf staggered. His torch had given out, but the same could not be said for the tribe¡¯s fire that continued its crackle. Atop it, the dwarf found--following repeated stumblings and falls--the dressed kill had burnt fully black, its consumption now beyond question, a somewhat satisfying sight given the alternative¡¯s ethical dilemma. He smiled softly and collapsed, gone from consciousness again...


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    His mother knelt beside the crumpled dwarf and cradled his head, tangled beard slowly undone. He twitched in occasional response without complaint or sound at all. She tilted to let great spools of blazed red curls descend upon her bald child, a gift he received too sans comment. Her hair became his blanket--and timed well, for a cold front swept the cave and frosted the ruins. Fat white blobs puffed with air glided with grace to rest atop various jagged features, demolished entranceways and exits, places of obvious rest, the remains of the mushroom headed, fear etched into the marble of their corpses. Light blew blue across all ends of the cavern soon illuminating the demolished in an ethereal state. The dwarf missed no moment, watching outside his perspective, an observer to fiction he recognized as much. But finding he could maneuver unhindered, the dwarf set himself to excavating the snow topped ruins for anything of value. He found books and boxes and bread and considered only one of the three truly helpful but not ultimately, his death by bores on the peak of its precipice. A glow of red compelled the dwarf to lift slushy wood, discovering underneath a collection of potions smashed in on themselves, bottled essences in glass now pooled in the floor. The dwarf turned back towards mother and double and found neither. He woke up.


    ¡°HEALTH CRITICAL¡±


    His body an island in a red sea, the dwarf lurched himself over to the neighboring Waspig. He kissed it, hunched over and atop, thankful again repeatedly, between every groan and grunt, for its support. Together, directed, they traveled to the slush envisioned within his dreams and, astonished, the dwarf identified a crate of alchemical treasures beneath collapse. Its labels--the vials, such treasure, bore two dark fingerprints, both thumb-like and parting away from one another. The dwarf thought of the berries. He didn¡¯t have a choice. A cork shot and the dwarf downed one of two drinks, various colors glowing though his throat--then gone. He collapsed. Waspig settled in for another nap.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 19¡±...


    His mother knelt beside the crumpled dwarf and cradled his head, cooing into his large ear and tracing the tips of her fingers across a great, bald dome. The dwarf could hear snorting and snarling from a distant source but felt unwilling to investigate, his peace attained and not loosened easily. There existed no double this time, no alternate perspective--only he--and he would not go easily. But a gun rang out and again. The situation soon became suppressive fire lain over the dwarf and his human mother, both surprisingly shielded from wild ricochets. But Waspig burst wildly and suddenly from the stalactites above and crashed to the ground, hundreds of thousands of casings unclogging, scattering across the milky white floor. Fingers continued to smooth the dwarf¡¯s lobe, and he resisted eye contact with the tusked interloper. It huffed and crashed into him, the scarlet haired human bouncing backwards into the firing range and torn asunder. The dwarf, realizing her fate, turned to his pet and seized the thing in his hands, squeezing its sides, its noises growing confused and frustrated. It shrieked. At once the creature popped and a bounty of more bullets flew in all directions, the dwarf pervious to the sudden penetrations ripping through his small frame in seconds. He stumbled backwards and laid perpendicular to the warm corpse of his mother, her eyes turned away. He tried to speak--shotgun shells came rushing out his throat. He wept gunpowder.


    Waspig was gone. The dwarf, aware again of his dreaming, squinted and scanned: no signs. But familiar noise rang out from a particularly dark corner of the cave yet unmolested by cartoon sized pummelers. He recast his rolled torch and ventured, each movement precise and slow, his wounds ostensibly sewn, his bleeding stopped, a weakness in his limbs still persistent. Eventually he crossed over to a dim corral. The dwarf palmed a crooked gate away and became entrenched in a bounty of Waspigs--at least seven hogsects in total. His own snorted in delight at the appearance of its master and introduced him to its newfound friends. Although hesitant, the dwarf became convinced to reach out and brush the various cautious but friendly sets of hairs and wings. While initially intent on only rescuing the one, the dwarf found himself easily convinced to take the entire crew under his newly healed wings--though the theory of the singular cursed swine now silently fell apart.


    With so many creatures wandering the pen, the dwarf drew his finger up from the west and wagged it east for a final headcount: eight. Eight? The dwarf took note of the largest of them, his very Waspig--1. Three more seemed nearly identical minus some centimeters on height and tusk--4. Two wrestled with each other, inseparable, both with wilder hair than the others--6. One stood at least half a Waspig higher than Waspig but shockingly scrawnier. He couldn¡¯t understand why any fungus would select it for meat but, nevertheless--7. A mushroom with two miniature dwarfen arms and two more legs--both the tone of its stalk flesh--standing firm, arms crossed--8. 8?


    The dwarf brought himself lower to the oddity¡¯s height, it impatiently beginning to tap its foot. The sight of the funguay boring a hole into its experiment¡¯s head flashed through the dwarf¡¯s, and he reflexively shot his fingers up to the top of his scalp--bare. His hands dropped as he realized what then addressed him.


    ¡°Hey, you. I¡¯m Funguayou.¡±

 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

    ¡°Got anything to say to me?¡± asked the dwarf facing fungus. But he, the dwarf, could only vaguely gesture between it and his smooth head. A few loops later and, standing at just the height of the dwarf¡¯s knees, it began to understand.


    ¡°Yea, yea. You¡¯re you and I¡¯m Funguayou.¡±


    The dwarf glanced at Waspig, who did not immediately make any aggressive moves. Though this parasite had sucked at the teat of the dwarf¡¯s scalp, he supposed it no physical threat given the vast difference in size. But mysteries remained: what had it taken? What was its purpose--to serve the mossy cottage laboratory?


    ¡°Hey buddy, bring that light down my way.¡±


    While the dwarf had lost himself in questioning, the miniature mushroom headed being--that which sprouted only four limbs, all mysteriously dwarfen shaped--scavenged. It had returned to the torch bearer with a handful of herbs and a pipe. It packed the thing and leaned towards the lowering beard. Clouds puffed and disappeared into the darkness lit only by they and the charred dead center. Funguayou breathed deep the cavern air after.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. I thank you. Name?¡± asked the sentient being surrounded by smoke rings.


    The dwarf nodded, hesitated, then shook his head--directions gradual in their transitions--a realization overcoming the dwarf that hadn¡¯t yet found his wandering mind. Breathing soon strained, he leaned against and slid down fencing. The little red capped stalk wandered over and settled down opposite. Half its rings caught the dwarf¡¯s face.


    ¡°Following, dwarf? Good. And I already knew,¡± said confidently the shroom. ¡°Been inside you. Your secrets aren¡¯t safe with me.¡± It laughed. Waspig continued to observe silently. ¡°Be at ease, buddy. I should have rather put it as no secrets can be hid.¡± It smiled. The dwarf frowned with furrowed brows. Funguayou noticed and shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t choose your dome. You didn¡¯t choose to be here. Not so different.¡± The dwarf didn¡¯t agree. It continued its pose and puffed a final blow.


    ¡°You need helping. A second set of eyes, or a third--I see your critter. Can it be stressed how lucky you are? Think, friend. Crossing that gap was serious tomfoolery. Shouldn¡¯t have even thought about it. Well, you¡¯re both alive, but what¡¯ve you done? Get a load of those fists. You hardly need a weapon, much less clothes, it seems. But even my blood got hot back there. Well, you gained experience, that¡¯s well. You do lag a bit in some areas. How will you expect to be accepted into guilds? A level two ¡®cooking¡¯ is a bit infantile. But you can¡¯t be blamed, you¡¯ve only just arrived. Well, could dismount the charred brick back there, swap it with one of the pen¡¯s unspoiled. Oh, no need for that look. Just a jape. It would lower your army¡¯s morale. And this is one army. But have you noticed the twisting moss almost quilted into the walls? Take your torch closer and you¡¯ll see. Well we¡¯ll scoop some up and mix it into a pot--you didn¡¯t destroy them all, did you? Their pots? That too is a jape. And we¡¯ll want sap from outside, you¡¯ll retrieve more of that. Those scarlet colored berries, by the way--there¡¯s some growing out there, too. Well forage for them. Calm yourself, their poison is neutralized by flame. You exercised wiseness in avoiding them raw--yea, besides the one taste. Impressed by this memory? I¡¯m a mirror, buddy, it¡¯s you. Funguayou. I just know a little from who you fear, too--and ease your hands, there¡¯s no chase. He¡¯s not coming for anyone. Likely asleep in his rocker,¡± it said, elaborating with a mimicking motion. ¡°I doubt any of the other funguay are returning. And once we¡¯re done with our feast, we¡¯ll climb--well, you¡¯ll climb, I will ride--up the way your assassin came down. For I¡¯m sure your suspicions align with mine, and that is the way out from this ravine. Now that leaves the elfs--yes, the elfish--to contend with. Likely, they think you dead. Who survives a fall like you and yours? None, and all the better for us. We¡¯ll have to sneak our way through their woods... Well we¡¯re ahead of ourselves. I will conduct the hogs to assist in scraping up our meal. You: sap, berries, leaves of Tryse if you spy any. They¡¯re more prominent where the cottage is, yea, we are a bit far now. But you never know. Flared stem, thick blue petals. Tryse. Ok!¡±


    Funguayou clapped its dwarfen hands together. The dwarf did not move or offer much in the way of response other than a blank stare, thoughts unable to form. So the mushroom repeated its instructions and shoved against his legs in a vain effort to rouse him up off his sit. The dwarf watched Waspig watching Funguayou. Though dark, he saw enough: the top of his pet¡¯s head bolstered a thin stalk with rounded cap. The cottage funguay had made good on its threats. Two of these miniature sized chatterboxes? The dwarf¡¯s head spun. He did eventually rise much to Funguayou¡¯s pleasure, though its ranting and shoving motivated little of the decision. Together Waspig and its owner exited the way they came, the remaining hogsects meanwhile drilled in the art of the scrape.


    It proved difficult, navigating backwards. The tunnels had practically reborn--the dwarf and his creature became cognizant of retracings, their path in one instance nearly leading backwards to Funguayou. He wished he already carried berries so he may have created a pleasant scented trail easily followed. This led to another casual realization of his nudity, a state of dress not entirely unmasked if not for the efforts of his thick fur--but the dwarf strode naked all the same. The ¡®elfs¡¯, though he¡¯d seen very little before his drop, seemed as tall and thin as stalks--could their clothes fit? Could he sneak a costume out? He¡¯d never thought himself as a thief before, his father¡¯s values ever present alongside the church¡¯s--but surely an exception could be carved out. The dwarf wished desperately for pockets--the obvious flesh, obvious, though not readily entertained. No, he required a rucksack, a backpack, some form of carrying alongside his frame, and even pants would present the boon of good storage for even berries. So the dwarf decided, ultimately, to keep his eyes out. And losing himself in his thoughts ultimately rewarded the dwarf, he and his pet wandering themselves out into a dim dawn. Various destroyed vehicles and bones of creatures alike illuminated, their shadows beginning routine stretches. He even noticed arrows--clumps. The dwarf spotted his abandoned campfire, its logs long past lit. He thought of ¡®COOKING¡¯.


    While raiding each crashed caravan for its contents once more, the dwarf stumbled upon a storage of freshly laid eggs, its mother absent. Sympathy panged in his heart, his stomach out-growled the concern, and they--the eggs--found themselves boiled in a scavenged bowl of water--the same of which he splashed through to arrive. The dwarf¡¯s thirst whetted. After boiling, he laid the eggs in netting while he emptied the bowl and replaced its contents with cold. The dwarf re-emerged the cooked offspring to such chill, a satisfying hiss escaping their shattering of surface tension. He peeled the white armor off each egg feeding bits to Waspig and himself on an alternating cycle.


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    Just before, the dwarf passed the periods of boiling and cooling successfully plucking several berries. No Tryse appeared to him, but this felt fine--Funguayou seemed not to stress the ingredient with a great deal of importance. It would suffice to have the fruit, which the dwarf tied up in the previously used netting, and sap, which he, after, collected into the drained bowl. The dwarf¡¯s large hands, blood dried and flaking, balanced the tree¡¯s essence and netted bag of berries on smooth white rock just outside the cavern. He took to washing clean the remains off his fingers, the opportunity of a chilled bath soon then irresistible; later ending up drying flat against the ravine¡¯s floor, sun directly beaming overhead as strong as the abyss allowed. Waspig joined and curled up around his head, ears flanked by snout and hind legs. While it was no intention of his, the wet dwarf kissed from head to toe in warmth dozed off with smile worn...


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    Howling woke the dwarf. His view near black, he shot his legs out and rose to stand against what he managed to count as seven pairs of eyes slightly below, all slowly advancing. Waspig awoke as well, its wings furious and mushroom bobbing. As his eyes adjusted, the dwarf observed the creatures¡¯ characteristics, noting their demeanor wolf-like but with bodies running smoother, almost caked in mud or sludge. Their eyes glowed in the depths of the land¡¯s crevice, vision fixed to prey standing stout. It almost seemed, to the dwarf, they did not fear Waspig. When Waspig lunged at the nearest coyoke, it--the coyoke--plunged its body deep to the flat of the ground sliding under the bugsect¡¯s stinger and launching the adversary upwards rendering Waspig the object of a balancing act. The other dogs¡¯ collective focus shifted off the dwarf and onto the spectacle, the pigbug twirling so quickly it could not properly take off or fly away, for ¡®off¡¯ and ¡®away¡¯ both likely blurred the same. Its master snapped to attention at losing the coyokes¡¯, a running start bouncing him off the slight hill and onto the nearest dog, grappling the thing in an attempt to restrain. This endeavor failed, its slick body slipping out from the dwarf¡¯s grip and behind him,immediately then flicking its wide, fat tail sweeping the dwarf off his feet, head crashing to the ground. His target drew close intent on following up the successful whipping. But the dwarf waited until just the moment he thought necessary, a sudden kick outwards connecting with the assailant¡¯s nose, a series of whines in its wake.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 12¡±


    Waspig regained enough sense of its surroundings to whip its wings fast upon one last launch--succeeding into the air of its own volition, this defiance agitated the dripping dog below fallen into barking. Its audience, meanwhile, broke from the show to attack the dwarf still on his bottom. His victim--a blubbering mess whining and sneezing--staggered into a cart, the shifting releasing debris burying it and its noise. Five more creatures alike descended on the dwarf pulling at his limbs in a variety of painful directions, each aggressor fighting over its choice in cut, one more merely yapping. Waspig shot down onto one of these creatures, its barbed end jabbing directly through the end of the muddog, a collection of howls and yelps trickling after. His hand freed, the dwarf began bashing at the skull of that which yanked at his other arm. He hit hard enough to stir up a whine, its maw temporarily gaped to allow both hands freedom. The two chomping on the dwarf¡¯s legs suddenly yoinked the bearded prey away, cooperation enabling the dwarf¡¯s dragging along their uncoordinated path. He reached his hands out for anything to grab and snagged himself onto roots spiraling out. The dwarf wrapped his arms deeper within its boughs as the two coyokes continued their pull, a third rushing up to further intimidate. While the pain of their sunken teeth brought him to another gritting of his own, he managed to successfully rear his left leg up far enough to cautiously free one hand and bring it down hard atop the creature, sinking its fangs as consequence deeper into his own flesh. Yet its relentlessness ceased, the thing rendered braindead, its limbs without animation. He shook the corpse off and delivered a swift kick to his last aggressor--then another kick, and another, until it too laid still. He loosened his other arm releasing the roots responsible for his saving and approached the last aggressor--no longer emitting. It yelped and dashed away into heavy black fog, and the dwarf felt a strange mixture of satisfaction in his survival and pity for the slaughter.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 13¡±


    Trickling out his arms, legs, hands, and feet, the dwarf somewhat smiled while shambling that squashed berries weren¡¯t necessary after all. He murmured a chuckle and fell into the pool of water, his blood soaking it scarlet momentarily. He swished his form around scrubbing at his skin, rising out from the river soaked for the second time that day. But the sun had long set, and so the dwarf chattered his teeth, shivering, starting towards his campfire so graciously enduring. There he found Waspig snacking upon the fresh flesh of its slain. The dwarf was hungry, too. Following the motions, he dragged a corpse to the water, rinsed it and froze his legs, brought the corpse backr to the fire and mounted it and curled upon the ground. His eyes froze in the flames, pain and thoughts overwhelming. The dwarf regretted the circumstances, regretted his levels ascended in ¡®MELEE¡¯. He hated having to fight. It seemed the world forced either this or running, both interchangeable. And it demanded much blood, he considered, eyeing his wounds. The dwarf had grown tired of where his head constantly laid, how none instances sported pillows, beds of any kind. He¡¯d slept in a hole, on marble, on rocks, dirt--it bothered him even more his best sleep was gained in the house of an experimenting psychopath. Was sneaking past the elfs necessary? They lived among nature--surely it is liked and appreciated. Could he not stay with them? Where was he even going? It was only now he remembered the city on the shore and its smoke, its imagined fish collected by the dozens by boats dumping them off in hordes at the docks. He wanted to be there now. Instead he bled over rocks and waited patiently the drying of his thick hair. Waspig eventually joined the dwarf. The two laid together for some time before disbanding their shared peace, the dwarf rising to tear at his meal.


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    Storing what he did not eat in another bundle of rope, the dwarf took one last glance at the littered loot about the ditch¡¯s grounds and managed a leather belt--though no pants for proper company. Nonetheless an idea came to the dwarf, and he whistled for Waspig¡¯s presence following the relighting of his torch. The two returned to the cavern¡¯s moss shrouded entrance, smooth rock still supporting sap and berry. Leather belt in hand, the dwarf tied it round Waspig¡¯s waist, its wearer concerned. He next lathered the bottom of the bowl and the top of the strap in more of the sticky substance, mounting one atop the other. He pat his pet for its task while the netted bags of berries and meat became drawn up in the dwarf¡¯s large hands, blood once more caked. The dwarf shook his head, and he and Waspig returned to the dark passage tread thrice...


    ¡°Well, this is all certainly what was requested--except a full day¡¯s come to pass in the interim,¡± said an impatient foot tapping Funguayou. The dwarf attempted to explain how the task could extend so, but the fungus could not be interested, continuing instead to chide: ¡°Yes, have no fear, I and the others enjoyed a wonderful two meals of burnt moss and we¡¯re hungering for more. Yes, except we¡¯ve scraped all that can be scraped, and many more days must come to be before they¡¯ll regrow. Well done, dwarf.¡± It stopped and examined his bags more closely, its eye caught by cooked meat. The roasted scent hit it next, as if only then pouncing. Funguayou attempted snatching the netting from the dwarf¡¯s hand and, when the dwarf¡¯s statue grip rendered this a failure, it settled for reaching through and freeing, and gobbling, an entire thigh, a sight that somewhat disturbed the dwarf.. Finished, it whistled, and came stomping his army. The dwarf swore its tune delivered alike his own cadence.


    The horde of insect porcines bounced over to the bounty of crisped meat and dug in, bits flung unceremoniously in several arcs. This pleased the dwarf though it did not Funguayou, frustrated at the meal¡¯s apparently too quick end. It cleared its throat in the dwarf¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Well, you did acquire the sap and berries, that is true. And what¡¯s false is the lack of wall moss. There¡¯s plenty, unfortunately. But it will taste better with the ingredients. What a shame you couldn¡¯t find Tryse, but even the big guy--he doesn¡¯t see it much either. So you just keep that in mind. Speaking of, buddy, your thoughts are safe again when you think about it. And you can do so safely, right? Another jape. Come over to the fire, let¡¯s whip up some treats.¡±


    Funguayou¡¯s knowledge inherited from the owner of a kitchen, the dwarf learned much in the preparations required of roasted berry and, in the end, not only did the party all enjoy a warm snack in the company of one another, the dwarf additionally gained three further levels in ¡®COOKING¡¯. The ingredients spent and its consumers finished in their relaxing, the dwarf, Waspig, Funguayou, and the six other snorting beasts ascended upwards the steep cliff utilized by the dwarf¡¯s would-be assassin. The passages from there on out settled in darkness, no torches lit to the surprise of the mushroom atop the dwarf¡¯s shoulders (a place he preferred than scalp). Then the party came to the mouth of a much wider cavern, its overgrowth abundant and draped around its roof, contents lit by the new day¡¯s sun. But in the center, a sight less serene frightened the dwarf: seven funguay laid dead adjacent to three sharp eared beings wiping at their weapons. A fourth, taller and more decorated than the animated rest, stood still. When a scent drifted past, he came alive and announced to the three elfs beside:


    ¡°The smell of porcine bug is in the air, brothers.¡±

 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    Long and lithe, four pointed eared humanoids advanced towards the up high dwarf and his hogs, accompanying mycelia quivering. He, the dwarf, had snuffed his torch, but it was apparent how late the gesture came. He did not want to fight elfs. Mind wracked, he snapped to Funguayou, it only shrugging, its own eyes distracted. So the dwarf shot his tired hands up over the boulder, cover it was, and called for mercy. He expected an arrow to fly--instead, the elfs addressed him.


    ¡°Maintain those hands, hog boy!¡± called a voice.


    ¡°Thas right, and ¡®ave your hogs put they hooves up likewise,¡± came another.


    ¡°¡®Ow is he supposed to do that?¡± a third asked.


    ¡°Brothers, quiet. You!¡± the fourth declared with force. ¡°We smell your animals, boy. Come peacefully if you do not wish them or yourself harmed.¡±


    Cautiously, the dwarf craned his neck past cover to glimpse the situation: three bows, one saber. Ducking back, he demanded the lowering of their arms.


    ¡°And what sort of bargaining chip do you deploy, boy? Make this easy on yourself and step out. We are interested in clearing caves of infestation, not murder.¡±


    The dwarf reminded of the ravine shootout.


    ¡°Tha¡¯ was you?¡± admitted an astonished elf. ¡°Cannot believe you survived.¡±


    ¡°No order was given,¡± continued the leader. ¡°But, of interest, this one¡¯s he who first loosened an arrow. And he¡¯ll apologize.¡±


    ¡°Right. That wuz me, sorry and all. Not erryday sompin attempts to cross the chasm,¡± said one rosy faced.


    ¡°I assure you that came from his heart. Now step out, will you?¡±


    The dwarf peered down at his companions for support and discovered Funguayou had fled. Indeed, its presence could not be identified anywhere--but, glancing at the mushroom capped corpses littered about, the dwarf sympathized. Waspig, in its place, offered a reinforcement by means of sharp exhale. But he could only stare at that which sprouted out his pet¡¯s head. So the dwarf bent down and commanded it stay. Waspig knew nothing of this, and he realized he hadn¡¯t taught such a trick. Despite the circumstances, the dwarf still celebrated the reuniting of he and his creature; the idea of the elfs responding gravely at first sight of the fungus stalk, that a future of training Waspig could be mercilessly snatched away yet again, scared him stiff. The dwarf grew agitated thinking once more of his newly made friend¡¯s flee, suddenly then filled with inspiration. Shifting slow off the ground and onto Waspig, the dwarf directed his pet to fly back the way they came, the rest of his party soon flapping behind in mimicry of their leader. The lack of footsteps stayed the elfs suspicions until far too late, the dwarf having since descended well on his way back towards the ruins of his own making; his own corpses. Though the darkness created many issues, three of the party lost within the tunnels. Indeed, the dwarf¡¯s new headcount came to four: Waspig, the especially wild haired hogsect, the tall but awkwardly slim of its kind, and Funguayou. Funguayou? The dwarf surprised himself reaching out to grab the fungus as if it would bolt otherwise. The being complained immediately, berating the dwarf for his lack of charity. He gave in and released the captive.


    ¡°Hey, but we share no hard feelings, don¡¯t we?¡± asked Funguayou. ¡°You understand how they¡¯d treat the likes of me. Didn¡¯t expect you to go and make the same choice, but I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s to do with the pig. Waspig? What¡¯s that? Obviously I know its name. Have you forgotten so soon? Now listen, you made the right call. They¡¯d likely¡¯ve skewered the poor thing the same as they¡¯d do me. Oh, well all that before us now--you¡¯ve a plan, buddy?¡±


    The dwarf thought he¡¯d shake his head yet remained still. He really didn¡¯t want to fight elfs. He looked over the wreckage caused days ago, the corpses stagnant but nonetheless unpleasant. Maybe they¡¯d congratulate him on the slaying. Hollowness was inevitable, but it seemed a choice alternative to the skewering Funguayou stressed. The dwarf looked over the shingles that remained up in contrast to the many more floored. Some roofs appeared thatched. While Waspig bore still his strap, the bowl of sap had since been removed and nearly depleted by ¡®COOKING¡¯ lessons. He rushed over to confirm whether leftovers survived and, pleased, the dwarf set about climbing and removing straw.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 24¡±


    Funguayou approached the cooking site after its abandonment by the dwarf. It drew close to the still crackling flames and knelt, lighting packed herb. It turned round and realized the company of the two other remaining hogs. Though it hadn¡¯t yet informed the dwarf, the pigsect sporting wild locks now sported too the name Bathiel; the squeezed large sibling, Pistol. It would consider other names for the survivors--if any survived. A large inhale wrestled the lungs of the funguay-dwarfen offshoot, strange organs it certainly had. The dwarf watched all this with curiosity, further set about dismantling the shanty town. He wondered what the cottage funguay would think of all this. Funguayou coughed again. Then came growing noise above.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 25¡±


    Regrouped, the five disguised themselves in the darkness. Waspig took command of Bathiel and Pistol, the three smuggled under where health potions had been found, the dwarf saw to. Funguayou maintained a position behind barrels yet smashed. The dwarf waited dead center of the assassin¡¯s cliff behind somewhat shoddy cover. The party¡¯s eavesdropping officially began the moment a stirring from above the dwarf spilled rock and dust down below. The elfs soon approached, took to the edge one rank at a time from lowest upwards, captain last--his view simmered. His eyes as well blinked with intent, a stirring of color smothering both irises, an observation even possible from so low and afar. The dwarf wondered where their torches were.


    ¡°Getta load of all these dead ¡®uns. Wuz it really ¡®im?¡± asked the lowest ranking elf to the highest.


    ¡°Course not, yesse how shortan stubby ¡®e wuz?¡± interjected their mutual middle.


    ¡°Course he did, ya mean. Did you see that bloodied mitt?¡± came the highest, cheeks perpetually red.


    ¡°Brothers,¡± reminded their leader. ¡°Though Doetrieve speaks correct. This carnage can clearly be of no other¡¯s.¡±


    Temptation led the dwarf to poke his beard a hair. But the blessing bestowed of the eleven eyes yet to capture him would be squandered were he to tempt such a gaze again. So the dwarf pulled inches back and froze himself, concentrating solely on catching the elvish language so casually his own.


    ¡°Can¡¯t believe we lettem get away. Can¡¯t believe ¡®ey bolted!¡± shouted an excited elf--again the bottom of the totem.


    ¡°Well? What¡¯s we gonna do, brother, sir?¡± asked the middle ranking elf.


    ¡°Maintain this post, one of you will,¡± arrived his answer from the captain¡¯s lungs. ¡°The rest of us will sweep. After, another post at its mouth. Two can cover the ravine end to end.¡±


    The dwarf sweat.


    ¡°However,¡± continued the captain. ¡°I regret the circumstances forcing these theatrics. I have no intention of arresting the dwarf.¡±


    ¡°Dwarf, brother, sir?¡± asked Doetrieve, red nearly gone pale.


    ¡°What! No one informed me ¡®e wuz a dwarf!¡± came an exasperated greenhorn.


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    ¡°You mean you di¡¯n¡¯t catch ¡®is beardan bald?¡± asked, for reasons different, an equally exasperated officer just above him. ¡°Your mother never read you the right stories growin¡¯ up.¡±


    ¡°Hoh, Giltgrief, why don¡¯t you leave ¡®er out from this afore I forget fairy tale boy and shaft sommin¡¯ else,¡± boomed Sowsmith in defense, lowest ranking with the most pride.


    At this, Giltgrief snickered. His opposite grew as red as Doetrieve. Their commander cleared his throat.


    ¡°In any case, no one will be loosening any shafts,¡± he affirmed. ¡°The Ponderous Tree will wish to see him.¡±


    The dwarf pondered this himself in silence. His immediate thoughts drifted to a large oak tower alive and soaring beyond its siblings. But they soured at the idea of one similar to that which damned him, if not it itself. Snapping out from the sudden gloom, the dwarf released the straps of a burden he felt had crushed his pipes, its weight crashing imaginatively behind him: they weren¡¯t going to try to have him killed. He wanted to trust this. He with unbelievable affirmation did not wish to fight the elfs.


    The dwarf unstashed himself and came out from cover...


    An unbelievable radiation of gold danced from leaf to limb to grass and cone as the elfs exited the highest tunnel of the cavern, their feet treading among the bones of Funguayou¡¯s brothers. Behind them, a wave of tiny winged creatures emerged from the darkness rapidly into thick shade offered by a majority of the vast green forest. Finally came the dwarf and his three hogs, Funguayou¡¯s trace unseen. So he, Bathiel and Pistol strode out one after another. Then came, of which the elfs had declared enormously strange, Waspig, his mushroom outfitted with sap stuck straw. It meekly trod out from darkness. The dwarf wasn¡¯t sure whether to decide on hat or deformity but, thankfully, they never asked.


    The exit lay surprisingly near the vast ditch still stretching on from side to side, a new appreciation for it found in the dwarf. He thought about the sole survivor, that mud dripping wolf likely fending for itself alone. Taking aside an elf, he asked of the species.


    ¡°Uh? I dunno. Mudkips I reckon.¡± And of his Waspig: ¡°Whate¡¯er you like. I call ¡®em swinesects, or jus¡¯ ¡®ogs. Sowsmith calls ¡®em mother, don¡¯tcha Sow.¡± At this, Sowsmith¡¯s face grew red, and he looked at his feet strapped in sandals. His torso and legs both came covered by one all encompassing fabric, one large darker colored sash crossing diagonally, the outfit seeming somewhat like a bathrobe, the dwarf theorized. Sowsmith¡¯s gi glistened in marine blue, Doetrieve and Giltgrief¡¯s green. Only the captain contrasted monochrome, his clothes chalk white. Ribbons tied the gis together and, blowing together as brothers in the wind, his--the captain¡¯s--hair danced longer than any of his three subordinates¡¯. He bore one bow and one blade, and from his neck hung a talisman. This struck the dwarf funny, thinking of his father and the corroded cross often worn. Eventually Sowsmith, ogled, returned the far shorter peerer¡¯s gaze with a glare. The dwarf dropped his eyes, wondering how he¡¯d appear in the strange elfen clothing and what color he¡¯d like it. Waspig oinked, mushroom bobbing incognito.


    The group--that is, the dwarf, the four elfs, Waspig and two Waspig-likes--retreated away from the unending cliff face and towards, as the dwarf came to learn, a pocket of elfen civilization. On their way more and more trees began to distort into the shape of shrooms, dozens of wooden webs supporting roofs flared green. Still regular oaks and such as the dwarf knew growing up remained in vast numbers. Massive, dominating variants continued to reach up into the heavens holding firm a ceiling, its expanse left still to far more imagination than that of the great ravine. Small ponds and creeks began to spring up and about, and more strange species of insects introduced themselves to the dwarf and his beard. Soon a path of dirt woven with miniature vines, a pattern spiraling out forwards invitingly, twisted into their treading. The party assumed this road and, thirty minutes of hiking after, arrived at the imposing wooden gates of what the elfs immediately confirmed as home. The captain waved, two more of his blue men appeared, and the gate gradually allowed the guest, his pets, and the newly made, jagged-eared friends to enter. Passing, the dwarf reflected. These weren¡¯t thin church doors.


    Inside, rows of girthy trees and other obfuscating vegetation outlined an amorphous shape eclipsing a canal running beneath the settlement, bridges of trunk and vine overhead. Topology ebbed and flowed, rose and fell, a variety of homes atop it all making use of the large quantities of stalks of the earth--sugarcane. Many mixed wood and rock with the chartreuse binding agent creating solid cane foundations of which second and third stories came about, and others took to solely one material, their homes hanging high a few levels in ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯ away. The water eventually ran into a lake of which neighbored a beach alive with elfen activity. Many other villagers took to the streets still intertwined with vine, young children with ears just as sharp scattered about nets in hand. And everything seemed so much greener here than possibly anywhere the dwarf had ever been before--and his farm during the summer broiled in legitimate emerald. He somewhat felt nauseated.


    ¡°The Ponderous Tree,¡± spoke the captain loud, ¡°is deeper within the woods. But tonight, as the sun will soon fall, you and your pork will be put up in our fine care. Sowsmith,¡± he said, turning to Sowsmith, ¡°will ensure a proper feast be fed in honor of our wronged guest. Will you?¡± he added. Sow saluted and took off. The captain continued: ¡°Doe is my second-in-command, you will be in good service as he escorts you to your quarters for the night. I advise you make use of the facilities available--relax yourself. When the sun decides dusk Doetrieve will come for you--that will mean our meal. Understood, dwarf? Doetrieve?¡± The rosy faced saluted. ¡°I unfortunately will not be joining you,¡± admitted the elfen leader. ¡°I will undertake informing The Ponderous of your arrival. No need for such visage--I bear the responsibility proudly. We will meet again soon, dwarf.¡±


    The captain dismissed himself. Doetrieve drew up to the dwarf and at once led him and his four legged followers to a glass walled, leaf topped hotel of such immeasurable quality the dwarf was not so sure he¡¯d not taken an arrow after all. Shown directly to his room, the dwarf entered with swinesects in tow, a corner overflowing with cushions and pillows as offering towards Waspig and company. The dwarf managed his way past the sudden formed commotion of rapid wing fluttering and into the connected bathhouse, a tub sealed in polished wood sporting smoking water the dwarf dared approach and, rewarded, soaked. He shut his eyes as soon as inclined...


    ¡°Dwarf. Awake? Hello. Dwarf.¡±


    Awake, the dwarf splashed his pruned body up out from the bathhouse and into the nearest towel, wrapping his form for the first time since blanketed beneath a mossy roof. Pounding rhythm continued with further calls of the dwarf¡¯s name, but he¡¯d not especially left the trance his heavy dream had brought him under, and so his operating came mechanical at best. Dried off, he pulled a drawer open and obtained a gi of his own. But his arms couldn¡¯t fit, and the thing wouldn¡¯t really wrap around his body. The dwarf realized the elfs had not made any special comment towards his nakedness, and only then considered he had, in fact, in this elfen settlement, spotted several elfs just as shameless. This reddened his face still not quite recovered from the steaming.


    ¡°Dwarf. Dwarf. Dwarf. Les go, alright. I¡¯ve to barge in?¡±


    Nude and sprouting hair from ear to toe, the dwarf drew back the sliding door. Some time later he, his pets, and Doetrieve entered the dining hall assembled on the bank of the lake, boats and crafts drifting lazily. Elfs, clothed and bare, cluttered the area with a striking similarity to a beach pecked with holes and towels. But nowhere near as fantastic could he nor his family have ever eaten, walls of crystal soon all around the dwarf glittering pulses of saturated colors upon both water and diner alike. The dwarf took his seat in a corner to which a few bowls decorated the floor, pigbugs left loose on the elfen equivalent of kibble. Doetrieve waved over a quickly spotted Giltgrief and the two dined with their stout guest. More seats soon filled, and a variety of courses came served by wide eyed tall legged waitresses, the dwarf feeling like a spectacle, redness returning. The food consisted of a variety of grilled vegetables and mushrooms--some breaded--and noodles and warm broth and in fact breads not disagreeably unlike corn. The dwarf ate with such warm joy in his heart he at once felt back at the farm table with both mother and father present, a distant feeling not quite lost. The waitresses, skipping by with platters heavy, began then serving meat. The undeniable scent of roasted pork filled the air and long had the dwarf already guessed at the source when a plate garnished in stinger slid beneath his beard. While the festivities around him glowed, he sat at a table with his father on the other end, a bowl of burnt slop served by a soon snoring drunk.


    ¡°¡®Ow you hangin¡¯ there little ¡®un?¡± asked Giltgrief. ¡°Face seems a shade green, dunnit?¡±


    ¡°Gilt¡¯s right, git he is,¡± agreed his higher ranking officer. ¡°What, don¡¯t eat pig just cuz you¡¯ve some yer own ¡®uh?¡±


    The dwarf agreed with Giltgrief, excusing himself from the table and staggering along until kneeling and vomiting into the water, a vibrancy of colors splashing and swirling with his bile. A couple of elfen women baring witness shrieked and expelled pork back into their plates, and a waitress slipped on a smear across the floor sending her into the water with thirteen dishes and seven mugs of beer. The entire dinner plunged into chaos as the dwarf recovered and continued his exit, Waspig, Bathiel and Pistol behind. Before long the group returned to the fine hotel, and the dwarf sealed himself back within the broiling tomb...


    ¡°Dwarf! Open up at once.¡±


    Awake, the dwarf splashed his pruned body up out from the bathhouse and into the adjoined living quarters, soaked. Pounding rhythm continued with further calls of his name, and he¡¯d not half recognized the voice until the dwarf¡¯s door burst out from its hinges against glass, Doetrieve and his captain entering among stray shards. The latter immediately addressed the dripping mess before him:


    ¡°By the order of The Ponderous Tree, you are under arrest.¡±

 CHAPTER NINETEEN

    Marched to a cell of glass bars between otherwise concrete, the dwarf and dwarf alone landed hard on the latter. Behind him, Doetrieve and his commanding officer clicked the gate shut, a variety of strange knobs lined vertically dispensing air in quick hisses before petering out. The officer--the elf the dwarf yet knew the name of--made the dwarf''s rights known:


    ¡°You have been declared, as decreed by The Ponderous Tree, a criminal of war. You will be tried. Likely you¡¯ll hang--our vines will keep. You are not entitled to a defense. By fury of His oaken words, this is a formality for His people. There is no projected timeline for these events, but know by His word the matter will be settled quickly. My men are personally assigned to watching you in the meanwhile. I, Captain Locust, recommend trying nothing lest you wish to expedite the process.¡±


    Locust leaving, Doetrieve stood firm facing away from the cell, bow strapped across back, feet pointed away from the dwarf. He, dwarf, took stock of his miserable new circumstances. A dark rectangle, the facilities offered within were: cot, bucket, mass of hay, and a chair on three glass legs. He sighed and threw himself against the clumped wheat--a similar sleeping situation to nights in the barn. He bitterly regret cooperating with the elfs and once more ever crossing the chasm to begin with. The dwarf stared at the ceiling, wretched roof of cracks, his worn eyes filling them in. His stomach lurched--the delicious food he¡¯d enjoyed had just as soon vanished, and the elf who so wickedly addressed him seemed to forego mention of further meals. An anxious mood spiked on realization of his pets¡¯ potential fate, and he grit his teeth; clasped his hands. Why could he not escape the clutches of misery so intent on stalking him and his through this new world? Would the tree who first damned him--for now two had--ever show its gnarled bark again? The dwarf thought he might cry but his ducts refused. So no inch was moved--he only lay.


    Some concern clear in his expression, Doetrieve turned and glanced over the miserable stout wretch.


    ¡°Yer lookin¡¯ rough, dwarf,¡± he observed. ¡°Though ain¡¯t none us want you cozy. Hey listen, why don¡¯t you hold the fort down awhile, damned captain dragged me first thing this morning and I ain¡¯t got a breakfast yet. Be good and I¡¯ll swing a biscuit by you, ¡®uh?¡±


    The dwarf offered no response. Doetrieve did not hover long for an answer. The elf trotted off, and the dwarf realized his solitude. Carefully weighing options, the dwarf hopped up and glanced at the strange lock sealing him within the cell. It had long since silenced its hissing, and remained an inert strange series of bolts completely alien in design. He pressed his hands against the pillars of glass acting as jail, and gave one a light thump--the strength seemed clear behind each bar. But he had to know and had to try, so the dwarf reared his fist and slammed the weapon straight forward.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 14¡±


    Pain blasted out from his already bruised knuckles erupting in hellfire for the dwarf and his wrist, the former gnashing bone wildly to distract from otherwise howling. Sent to the ground, the tears he anticipated arrived with great release rapidly down his cheeks, drizzling into the floor and, like its opposite, cracks. The dwarf swallowed away sobs and managed loose only two slips of agony--unnoticeably quick, he hoped. But although he suffered and indeed the glass did not, a plan began to hatch in his dwarfen mind. Given the continued absence of his guard, the dwarf knew each minute passed was value pissed away, as his father would have explained. After recovering Waspig and its brothers would he find time to writhe. Moving towards the pile of hay, he swept some back and, a handful more between teeth, began striking the floor.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°¡®Ow you feelin¡¯, dwarf? Got¡¯cha biscuit. ¡®Uh? Dwarf?¡±


    The dwarf, having noticed the advancing return of Doetrieve, swept the loose bale over the damage and inserted his profusely bleeding right deep within needles, his less ugly left breathing air. The dwarf¡¯s face too lay disguised in hay, the unbelievable blubbering endured deemed better kept away from elfen curiosity. And so in this silence Doetrieve slid the biscuit between bars and traded shifts with Giltgrief who was quick to slide onto his rear. A surprise came when his dwarfen ears soon picked up the sounds of deep snoring and, removing himself from the dirty yellow pile, he realized Giltgrief¡¯s sleep. A theory, whether the dwarf realized it or not, had been rolling itself around the deep recesses of his brain, and now it hatched: he didn¡¯t think the elfs had very good hearing. Shifting his hay aside and carefully bringing just one fist down before snapping back for guidance, the theory took wings: Giltgrief took no notice. The dwarf brought another down. Giltgrief sung a train whistle. And the dwarf devoured the biscuit.


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    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    ¡°¡®Uh? Wuzzat...?¡± sputtered Giltgrief. The dwarf remained still. ¡°... Very well...¡±


    The dwarf knew not what expression the smacked guard made--beating no doubt delivered by a superior officer--only that the action happened nearly as soon as the dwarf had shattered his way through concrete and into a cavern overflowing with thistles and bushes and plantlife that twisted into strange shapes yet seen. He, ostensibly successfully escaped from his pen, knew his next movements were critical if he did not wish to be returned. But the many tunnels spinning off into different directions all round the dwarf submitted him to nervousness and hesitation. Hearing the commotion upstairs spurred him to pick a path--any at all--and so the dwarf dove forward left-most, that which sported many spirals of vine and scattered small shroom headed snakes with every step. He did not feel afraid of their presence--merely apologetic for having disturbed them--but the plight he underwent surely weighed heavier than than the problems of those scaled, and so he marched ahead uncaring. Much dirt made up the foundation around his initial flee, but the landscape gradually shifted to a black bracky sort of earth, and soon he realized rivers running all under him--then on both sides--until the entire path seemed a slide. Losing his footing, the dwarf tested this hypothesis rapidly, light fast lost in a dark foray where violent splashes reverberated in explosive cacophonies.


    And then all at once the dwarf shot out a hole and into a vast lake beneath the blazing sun.


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±...


    Mid-afternoon brought quick showers across the dense forest for even the roof of green could not resist rain¡¯s perforating. In the wake came golden light that filled the lime world from end to end, a clear delight off the cooing and ooing of many elfs in their second dining hall, a patio high off rock with a perfect view of holes through thick foliage; of the sunset; of mammoth tread plains and the city on the shore. The elfs clinked glasses and enjoyed the sophisticated delight of colors through glass--it seemed a wonder to the dwarf, who knelt beneath them all under heavy shadows, they never grew tired of the sight. But then, having identified four further clearly designated eateries, he guessed at a rotating schedule. There had been weeks on the farm in which he and his father subsisted off corn and a variety of potato-based dishes. Whether sliced, baked, hashed, fried, or as fries, his father served corn the exact same way. By one night his father challenged the boy¡¯s attempt at leaving the table early, a plate of yellow remaining. But he never got sick of the potatoes. Coincidentally, the meal served to the sharp eared consisted entirely of potatoes and mushroom--he wondered if they grew sick of the latter. He wondered about the same atop Waspig¡¯s head. His heart hurt for his animal, of Bathiel and Pistol too, ignorant of their names he may then have been.


    Sneaking away from the scene to follow the chef, who himself had begun his exit of the kitchen, the dwarf¡¯s stubby legs managed to trail his best guessed target--though not without issue. As a young child he¡¯d made a habit of skulking about the farm late at night often to sneak into the barn, infrequently to eavesdrop on arguments or watch his father degenerate. The dwarf, on dwarfen feet, struggled with the right touches of toe and heel necessary. He stumbled and smashed his way through fencing jolting the cook out from his trance--but to the dwarf¡¯s good fortune he resumed, and the tailing continued.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Soon, the chef broke off from the vine woven road and began cautiously navigating nature--all still well within the walls. This agreed with the dwarf, an assortment of vegetation easily obscuring his stalk. He slid on wet mud and plunged straight into a boulder, birds sent shrieking away to once more the cook¡¯s surprise.


    ¡°What elf walks!¡± the chef called to prolonged absence.


    Given the dwarf¡¯s physical circumstance, he appreciated the lack of guilt in his lack of response--after all, he hadn¡¯t really been addressed. So keeping still and silent, the tailed shook his head and moved along the great city wall until it dug into a sky scraping mountain. Here he descended down the rock wall, for the topology continued further and further downwards; he stopped, turned, and waved his hand fast and knowingly. A crevice formed between barriers of stone giving way to an entrance, and the chef turned slowly with one eye cocked as sudden shuffling shot towards his back, the dwarf soon upon him bringing a bloody fist down hard and emotionless. Feeling strong the urge of dwarfen rage at its door, the dwarf resisted, memory of the beaten funguay welling. So he brought his burst knuckled hand close and asked directly for his pets. The elf squeezed out from his assailant¡¯s grip and bowed repeatedly, tossing promises around like seed. The two continued into the secret cavern and soon came upon an orb shaped pen--fully glass--in which Waspig and Bathiel bumbled against and into each other. The dwarf asked of the third, and the chef could only shake his head, explaining they needed meat for tomorrow¡¯s breakfast. The dwarf brought a fist fast into his gut and the elf doubled over winded.


    Approaching a console standing erect before the spherical cell, the dwarf took a guess of a smash to it. Sparks of all shades of a rainbow spit out from the piece and the front door of glass fell fast freeing its prisoners. For yet another reuniting the dwarf ran full speed into the hooves of Waspig, the two wildly nuzzling. He spared a free hand to brush up against Bathiel--obviously shaken, but no less composed for the situation, wild hair and smaller stature he may have sported. Of surprise came the hand that stroked Waspig¡¯s forehead--smooth and furry. The dwarf took another glance at the glass cage and discovered little else than droppings. But all the better, he thought, to be rid of that problem completely.


    ¡°Dwarf,¡± came Doetrieve in the gape of the cavern¡¯s unattended maw. ¡°I¡¯m to bring ya back.¡±

 CHAPTER TWENTY

    ¡°Taker easy now, little ¡®un...¡± warned Doetrieve mounting multiple cautious steps across rock. The dwarf, atop Waspig with Bathiel beside, shot his arm forward and the pet obeyed. Launching, Waspig¡¯s wings whipped into a wild frenzy, the rode pet soon circling the secret cavern repeatedly. Doetrieve drew his bow. An arrow knocked and loosened, and Waspig reared itself back to block the projectile with its stinger. Succeeding, the manuever¡¯s recoil amounted in the dwarf¡¯s flinging, his stout form twirling, Bathiel executing a leap swooping its master off his feet. But he continued to bounce on, barreling straight into the elf only halfway through his next knock.


    ¡°Stop! By The Ponderous--¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 15¡±


    Doetrieve crashing down, the dwarf seized the lull in combat and made for the exit, creatures in tow. But where Doetrieve had once stood, Giltgrief and Sowsmith haunted.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t no sense in this, dwarf.¡±


    ¡°Com¡¯on now, it¡¯s His word.¡±


    Jerking to his left, the dwarf hopped back aboard Waspig and grabbed Bathiel by the scruff, it making up the difference in speed and horizontality with its own flapping. Waspig blasted the trio forward down a long tunnel opposite the elfs. They soon buzzed by clumps of webbing stretched across various surfaces and between walls. The dwarf gulped knowing the size of what he¡¯d seen crawl in barn attic corners. But even the deepest swallowing of his fears couldn¡¯t have prepared him for the turned corner.


    A massive natural stretch of cavern, its ceiling glittering with magic runes sending showers of light below, housed a number of glass barred cages locking away an array of massive arachnids. Some took on sizes five times the dwarf, he observed, and different types of hair, even scaling, draped across each separated spider methodically. Something about the sight struck him in a similar chord as to the collective sound of mooing, each cow with their own stable. Indeed it appeared this way, and the dwarf hesitated upon reaching the other end to move further, his gaze transfixed, certain shattered pens lacking reassurance--until Giltgrief and Sowsmith rushed down to the same level shouting. The dwarf glanced to his side and beheld another console. He looked over the elfs once more; Waspig; Bathiel; brought mighty blows down upon the controls, several glass spheres retracting and releasing eight legged crawlers aplenty, many of whom seized upon the two elfs, the dwarf making haste to avoid the same fate. He followed his pets into yet another winding tunnel. He didn¡¯t look back.


    Further the three descended spiraling runs of darkness only infrequently lit by the odd rune, or shaft suggesting an outside world still lived. Lefts spun left for so long they began to feel right, and rights the same. But penetrating deeper into the dungeon beneath the elfen city in the forest, the dwarf realized he had returned beneath his former cell, stack of shattered concrete laying exactly where the pile had fallen, hay decorating stone below. Knowing the leftmost tunnel to be the most immediate exit of the cave, he directed Waspig towards at once--and reeled back as a substance sailed across the room sealing the hole in web. The dwarf turned round and met from few feet far the chittering maw of a nine foot assassin, its array of eyes intimidating him in the same manner Waspig had so long ago. But he could offer no potato, and the spider began splattering saliva across rock, its legs directing the abomination to its little prey.


    The dwarf bolted for a free tunnel. A lobbing of web directed him to another and then another, and then all exits sealed themselves--all except one. The dwarf took Waspig airborne, Bathiel in tow, and forced the trio to strafe endlessly in loops, as if to spin the spider¡¯s eyes into confusion. The dwarf considered the tactic valid, no further sprays of web and certainly no venom yet dispensed, the creature transfixed. Then he jerked Waspig with his other hand firm on the wild locks of Bathiel and up the three shot back into the dwarf¡¯s former cell, straw sent whipping past glass bars. The dwarf fell onto his back and fought for air, his two swinesects alternating between panting and lapping up biscuit crumbs.


    Though he had escaped the spider--somewhat--realistically the dwarf did not see the gate of inert locks coming open even with new aid. But he became spared the grief of further planning for a web blew right through the dwarfen made hole followed by a vibrating slam from beneath rattling all. Subsequent silence gave no hint of what was to come until yet another blast of force rumbled. Before long the dwarf realized its plan, but he could call upon no further energy and only laid still awaiting the inevitable. Again and again the spider slammed, dust spraying from the cracks above. And suddenly before the cell door stood Captain Locust.


    ¡°Damned dwarf!¡± he roared. ¡°I should be ever so grateful His guidance brought you back to your rightful home, even if you¡¯ve unauthorized cellmates.¡± Locust shook his head and his long hair stirred. ¡°What in hell is happening below us?¡±


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    The concrete beneath the four gave sudden way to one final tremor, the floor collapsing into the cavern below in thick jagged chunks, a massive cloud of dust enveloping all space possible. Somewhat immobilized, deeply dissociative, the dwarf had not tensed his muscles and became spared a severe fate on landing--though his head rattled. He sat up and observed Waspig and Bathiel flutter down, shafts of natural light behind them diluting into rune fed luminescence. Captain Locust came up from the rubble next, jumping at the corpse of the creature caught beneath heavy slabs. He turned to the dwarf with, as the dwarf noted, an intense elfen fury, blinking and blotting ink into his eyes. The elf drew his saber and sauntered close, face dark. The dwarf roused himself up but felt, in the few seconds he could rationally process, there would be no escaping the elf¡¯s intent. The dwarf stuck his foot hard onto the concrete and kicked himself back as the prediction came realized, Locust adjusting in his own few seconds to continue the descent of his sword.


    Bathiel leapt to the dwarf¡¯s defense and fell in two.


    The dwarf¡¯s heart kicked at the bones of its cage shivering his stout form from beard to bottom. In one moment, it was very nearly him slain--and because it wasn¡¯t, Bathiel was. Next the elf would bring the blade down on him or his Waspig. The dwarf held only bloodied hands--no thickness of finger could stop his fate. Then the concrete around all shuffled, and the once crushed great nine foot arachnid crawled out from its cover as if a cow shaking off grass. The elfen leader hesitated, and in this moment of chance the dwarf flipped himself up and onto Waspig just steps away. Locust turned and, in realization of his foolishness, brought his saber up again into the air, a glint blinding the dwarf. When vision returned, the elf had sailed through the air and nestled himself into a wall of rock, the spider advancing after its easily swept prey. The dwarf grabbed at the fallen sword so frequently having taunted him at the prospect of death. The hilt refused to fit right, so he awkwardly groped it with both hands. Having been escorted over by Waspig, the dwarf brought the blade down on webbing and sawed, freeing up the tunnel to the lake. Intent on not inducing a stabbing in the remembered darkness of the water slide, the dwarf tossed the borrowed weapon away, hopped onto his sole remaining pet, and re-entered the exit.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 20¡±


    But whatever turn he had taken before did not properly materialize for the dwarf blasted out a spout and into a massive chamber of chiseled stone and fine wood, dirt still making up much of the floor not dominated by the moat of which the dwarf crashed and splashed into. It--the moat--did not run deep. Waspig¡¯s wings guided it atop a heavy root. The dwarf soon reached the shore and joined his pet, he then awestruck at the behemoth of oak before him, its branches rising into obfuscation, its roots running along all sides of the specialized room. Whatever the size of the tree that¡¯d damned the dwarf paled in comparison to what could be none other than The Ponderous.


    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    Upon closer inspection, a sickly splotch lied died center--the face of it. The dwarf watched decaying bark attempt to enunciate, its words choked. He could not help noticing the many mushrooms sprouting out its head, dotted sinister shades of black and red.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    Its tone screeched so miserably, the dwarf felt sympathy well up inside him. Guiding Waspig, the two ascended up off the ground and towards the collection of fungus so suspect. He took stalks into both of his cartoonish grips and entertained, for but a brief moment, the warning he¡¯d decided against heeding. The dwarf tore the mushrooms out from the wood. The things shriveled fast in his hand, and at once sap spouted out the Ponderous¡¯ fresh wounds. But despite, color seeped into His face which began radiating autumn. It settled into what the dwarf registered as concern, and he drew near.


    ¡°THANK... YOU, DWARF... BUT... ARE YOU... REALLY?¡±


    The dwarf explained his situation as best as he could with the few sentences he felt able to breathe.


    ¡°I SUSPECTED... AND NEVER GAVE... SUCH AN ORDER... HEED ME, FALSE DWARF. IN THIS WORLD... ARE OTHERS SIMILAR... BRANCHFOLK NOT AS... PONDEROUS... BUT ENOUGH.¡±


    Waspig nibbled at a fallen branch. The dwarf nodded.


    ¡°THEY CAN... HELP YOU... I CANNOT.¡±


    Before he could respond, the dwarf watched the bark wretchedly writhe. The Ponderous Tree died, its gnarled mouth hung agape, its sullen eyes drooped, its sudden golden hue fading as fast as it had arrived. The dwarf stared into the dead wood and felt overflown with gratefulness that he would not ever be able to articulate, its recipient gone. The weight then, of all time passed since last ¡®SAVING¡¯, brought the dwarf¡¯s head down. He gazed at the tip of his beard and felt nothing. He looked at Waspig and saw Bathiel and Pistol and the others so mercilessly lost. Waspig¡¯s nose sniffed curiously a cobweb getting the stuff stuck on, a rampant scurrying ensuing. Feeling something at this, he remembered the lives the two still lived. The dwarf turned to exit the chamber and watched large double doors kick open and allow in a worn and wounded Captain Locust with saber gripped and injured Doetrieve behind.


    Though at first powered ahead by pure rage, Locust¡¯s elfen eyes widened connecting the shriveled dotted heap on the ground to the gaping wounds atop The Ponderous Tree. Beheld then was its empty face and lack of soul. While Doetrieve began to weep soundlessly, the elfen captain swung through the air twice in the dwarf¡¯s direction, distance uncomfortably close.


    ¡°Right here, right now, dwarf, shall be the hour of your execution.¡±

 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

    A heavy hand found footing on the shoulder of Captain Locust, his weeping subordinate the operator. He, Doetrieve, requested the slaying of the dwarf suspended. Locust turned himself so that his weapon still stood but a swipe away from the nearest beard and bug. He shook his elfen head, long hair frayed and tangled swept suddenly away.


    ¡°You jest?¡±


    Doetrieve¡¯s shoulder-length locks held still.


    ¡°¡®Old on, brother. Sir.¡±


    ¡°Why do you interrupt justice?¡± asked the captain.


    ¡°Cappan,¡± began his soldier. ¡°None intent whatsoever. But jus¡¯ stoppan breathe, sir.¡±


    Locust looked back at the dwarf incredulously, as if fishing for reason from anywhere he could, before returning his sharp eyes to Doetrieve.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The dwarf divided his attention. Half understood court had commenced and he was short a defense. The other half frantically assessed odds of escape and the means of doing so. Ankle deep water beleaguered the dead Ponderous; a dive dissipated from the dwarf¡¯s options. Waspig¡¯s snout protruded hairs above the ground with heavy grunts signaling its readiness for action. And realistically, the dwarf seemed poised to grab onto his pet and attempt an airborne retreat--but whether or not Doetrieve would fire his bow in retaliation mattered little--Locust¡¯s presence simply stood too near. No matter the movement, the dwarf realized a total lack of chance. So he bent slow and, under the cautious half-eyed glance of the captain, smothered himself in Waspig.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 21¡±


    The dwarf thought to ask the elfs if ever they witnessed another¡¯s skill gain ¡®EXP¡¯--but judging by the fixed, unchanging look Locust maintained, he considered his query answered. The dswarf could do else but listen then.


    ¡°Cuz sir. Take a gander at Him,¡± Doetrieve advised, offering after a gesture in the direction of shriveled fungus. ¡°If the dwarf wuz in on an ass-assin scheme¡¯s one thing, but ¡®ow could ¡®e ¡®ave gone and planted it¡¯n so darned quick?¡± He walked past his statuesque captain and retrieved damning evidence, submitting brackish black and red dotted poison to the record. Any one stem bore the brunt of a cartoonishly sized grip. Doetrieve turned to the dwarf, addressing the defense: ¡°You yanked ¡®er?¡± The dwarf nodded. ¡°Why?¡±


    As the dwarf began to explain the sight he met, Captain Locust advanced and swiped, disrupted by the redirection of a swinesect stinger. Waspig finished its flip and landed defensively in front of its master, breath bouncing up and off chiseled stone. Doetrieve, having inadvertently learned well from his superior, only then shattered out from marble and shoved his captain backwards. Locust, with free palm, struck his subordinate across the face.


    ¡°The war criminal--which I may remind you, Lieutenant Mason Doetrieve, His wisdom declared anticitizen--declared his guilt. Find me a soul who would profess ignorance of the repercussions of such actions, of the dwarf¡¯s ¡®yanking¡¯.¡±


    Mason Doetrieve drew his bow and let an arrow stay stiff in his free hand. ¡°Cappan. Brother. Sir--the Ponderous¡¯ infection wuz¡¯n fresh,¡± it was asserted, his captain¡¯s elfen eyes darting from criminal to lietunenant and back again. ¡°Forgive me question¡¯n you, sir, but ¡®ow¡¯d¡¯ya¡¯d not see it a¡¯fore win you¡¯re the only ¡®un who sees ¡®Im?¡±


    Captain Locust--prosecution, jury, judge, and clamoring for execution--cocked a smirk.


    ¡°What are you implying?¡±


    The subordinate shook his head. ¡°Nuttin¡¯ can¡¯t be talked over¡¯an council.¡±


    ¡°Yet this will not leave the chamber.¡±


    ¡°Wuzzat?¡±


    ¡°For aiding and abetting the dwarfen war criminal, I relieve you of your post, Mason Doetrieve, strip you of your citizenry by my succession in His wake and declare you be tried the same as the little bearded menace.¡±


    ¡°Brother? Sir? Are you out of your...¡±


    Locust lunged and a bow blocked his saber¡¯s path, swinging again after to no avail. The dwarf exchanged hurried looks with his pet, as if Waspig reassured imminent escape, but he could not bring himself to abandon the sudden-made attorney. So the dwarf dove and into his grasp came the low hanging fabric of Locust¡¯s wear. He assumed where ankle met leg in each hand before squeezing with the might of fifteen ¡®MELEE¡¯ levels. Despite, the cry Locust shot to the ceiling signaled a quick defeat, the dwarf releasing his hands, the captain quickly a sniveling heap. His teeth grit, and he hissed ill fate upon the dwarf between each groan. Doetrieve sighed and sheathed his weapon clearly upset he¡¯d ever drawn it. He turned to the dwarf.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°¡®Tween you an¡¯ me, I dun think He¡¯ver really declared you war criminal. Dunno ¡®ow the cappan¡¯s brain got all mushed up but reckon you shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve been involved in all this. Any case, you were. An¡¯ we lost Giltgrief¡¯an Sowsmith cuz of you, ¡®an got a mess now of the pens--cuz of you. But goin¡¯ up the chain an¡¯ it all starts wid you put behind bars. Sorry little ¡®un. I wish you never came; not certain what¡¯s next for the settlement. We really only just gotter going an¡¯ now it might collapse. Dunno why I¡¯m whinin¡¯ to you, it¡¯s not your problem. But I think you should be leavin¡¯. Sorry about your critters. You still got the one, though, so count your blessings and be¡¯n your way. If¡¯n gate guards ain¡¯t let you through up at the fron¡¯ jus¡¯ tell ¡®em ¡®Roach Coach¡¯. Won¡¯t give you trouble after. Dunno if¡¯m exilin¡¯ you. We¡¯re still here and you¡¯ve a reason to bein¡¯ ¡®ere sometime, give us a try.¡± Doetrieve¡¯s eyes drifted to his feet. ¡°Get gone already. Jus¡¯ go, dwarf.¡±


    The dwarf got gone.


    Following the hurried directions given in between clear dismay for the dwarf, he hugged right with Waspig and managed an escape. Among his sights were the remains of the massive slain arachnid, head dismounted, guts rug. Exiting the collapse of once his prison, the dwarf forced out a ¡®Roach Coach¡¯ at guards who held no hesitation for deploying arrows. Just before, he had visited the second dining hall to remind himself of his original purpose, the long view ahead clear and cloudless, sand sparkling. He¡¯d returned to the gate gravely, apprehensive of the approach--of the task itself. The idea of simply taking off up and over the walls only momentarily appealed before the imagery of a pincushioned Waspig set to trust in the strange elfen code.


    Passing through, the two left the slamming of the massive doors and the raw and untamed sprawl of thick trees and roots and ravines behind. Cutting through the savage greenery, the two soon maneuvered into an open field of plains. The dwarf had last gazed on such properly in the backyard of a cottage.


    Wind swept fast and whipped grass--flowers and all. It came for the dwarf after.


    As a boy, he¡¯d explored well past the limits of his farmhouse--not to excess, for he did not visit any of the friends he did not have nor intend illicit action. He only aimed to walk. He liked walking. He knew his father¡¯s property completely; easily. Into pubescence the boy continued to enjoy the hobby of slipping chores and meandering. His knowledge crept well past the confines of the farm by nearly seventeen. And one day at this age, he chanced running away entirely in an episode fated to repeat. He fled well into the bloom of morning and, traveling past unoccupied roads and tracks, came out suddenly into a bluff the wind ruled king. His highness¡¯ presence immediately recognized, the boy bowed to what he considered a sacred thing, litter and all. And now, as dwarf, the bluff¡¯s memory unforgettable, his eyes lowered to his fur topped feet. The feelings he felt back then seemed no longer produceable. The dwarf did not long for them. He regretted bitterly only he and Waspig could receive the crisp air so welcome. The dwarf replayed Bathiel¡¯s death. He thought of Pistol. Anguished, he realized how many of his quickly formed party members had fallen under his care. The dwarf wondered if even Funguayou still lived; if he¡¯d fled to his legitimate father and confessed its adventures. He decided suddenly on a hatred for the fungus that once rode atop his head so freely and unauthorized. He wondered of the fate of the straw pasted shroom. He hated it too.


    A mammoth emerged. Two followed. Soon six stomped. The trail of tusks began crossing a short distance from the dwarf who watched with disinterest. Forgoing finishing his witness, the dwarf knelt to the green below and curled and clutched his pet¡¯s hoof well into sleep...


    ¡°Hey, well, there he is. Good to see you, buddy.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s worn eyes drifted open to the disappointing appearance of Funguayou. He couldn¡¯t help but notice a new party member in tow, strapped in straw, snout protruding as well as four hooves.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t so sure you¡¯d make it. Hey, neither myself. And there¡¯s Waspig! Well I¡¯d consider our group grand then. Yes it does seem we¡¯re down a few members but fear not, dwarf, for we¡¯ve an addition. Allow me to introduce--¡±


    The dwarf swiped at Funguayou hurtling the thing into a mess of weeds. The hay covered fungus trotted over to its half-sibling who sprang up and brushed the dirt off.


    ¡°Yea, hey, what¡¯s the deal? I¡¯m not getting this. What¡¯d I do? Oh, this can¡¯t be about--dwarf, pal, huh, you didn¡¯t even name them. I named them. Well, two, but whatsit matter--Waspig¡¯s here, huh? Put a smile on your beard, this scowl¡¯s unbecoming. Ok, ok, apologies. So you are sore. That¡¯s fine. You sit tight. I¡¯ll gather some berries. Hey, leave it to the fungus, we¡¯ll make good, huh?¡± The straw shroom snorted and shot an air of agreeance and, one hopping aboard the other, the two trotted off past a rising hill and disappeared.


    The dwarf rolled onto his back. It was very blue above but it seemed inexplicably grayer. White too darkened. He peered to his side and watched Waspig crunch up a flower. Waspig was alive, he agreed. And that was all he was able to manage. The dwarf shook his head and rested tired eyes. The accumulated weight of his travels thus far mounted and presented itself mighty atop the dwarf¡¯s guts. To Waspig¡¯s array of eyes its master simply laid still out of peace, perhaps, but all the dwarf could feel was encumbrance. He thought of Captain Locust and ran through a series of his elfen expressions. Was it fairy-tale greed? Why had he hated the dwarf so terribly? The title of ¡®war criminal¡¯ weighed strangely. What had he done to deserve those words? The dwarf considered having offended God. Punishment, whether from father or all father¡¯s father, seemed succinct a summary. He¡¯d been struck down a hole, forced around in viscera, infected by fungus, assaulted by arrows, and imprisoned and very nearly executed. And only now did he take the full brunt of the damage his fists had endured. They pulsated with pain immeasurable, each knuckle a direct contact with his nerves. The dwarf attempted squeezing his hands out from habit and popped a jolt zipping right through his short form. He laid his hands caught mid-clutch against the grass dully, knuckles into damp earth. A terrible groan failed stifling. And he laid quietly.


    The dwarf realized he¡¯d completely lost track of the days that¡¯d passed since his arrival; dwarfening.


    The sky hadn¡¯t changed at all. But despite this, the dwarf knew it lost light. Waspig oinked, and it lit a touch lighter. The memory of Bathiel and Pistol flooded in and set the sky black. The dwarf shut his eyes again, rolled to his side, and let slip gradually a fresh puddle beneath his head...


    Awake to genuine darkness, the dwarf sat up and blinked. Waspig chased around its illegitimate straw offspring. Funguayou attempted to pitifully start a fire. The dwarf roused himself, and his heavy hand shoved the mycelia aside and set to task.


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 16¡±

 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

    Forgetting hunger until Funguayou finished dinner, the few bits of biscuit dissolving in the dwarf¡¯s guts were joined quickly by roasted berry presented with Tyrse. Three of the four at the forest¡¯s exit retired fast to sleep--the dwarf remained odd dwarf out. It was not for lack of effort that slumber lacked summoning. His mood had drastically plummeted since leaving the elfs, themselves worse for his appearance as confirmed by Doetrieve. And what was the lieutenant doing now? The dwarf wondered what version of events his people would be told, what direction they¡¯d have possible after. For the beasts the dwarf¡¯d slain and those failed the stopping of, he hoped their settlement would not count among the toll. Captain Locust¡¯s piercing eyes formed suddenly, scaring the dwarf backwards onto Waspig, the pet exploding against the trees coating green wickedly. The dwarf thrusted himself forward and whirled around to survey the burst corpse of his creature, its sight slicing through his retinas with the same ferocity as Locust¡¯s. Funguayou in the confusion flopped into the fire and screeched similar to the dwarf¡¯s capabilities, and the dwarf stared hard wishing the wheat smothered abomination followed its brother. He looked around for it--that disguised fungus--and could not place it for darkness reigned all round the fire. The dwarf knelt next to the sole blazing light and gently rested his hands against its logs. Skin, already bruised, flayed, damaged and disrespected, began scorching and roasting into black chips, and all throughout his howls the dwarf could not recede from that which eventually ruined the dwarfen appendages. He plunged his head forward.


    The dwarf stumbled backwards and slammed an elbow onto the tail of his resting Waspig, the creature shooting straight and stiff with a frightened squeal. It then blasted ahead past the waning campfire and over the bluff only just beginning to receive light. Such grass topped land revealed itself blue as navy before then blue as blue. The floor complemented its roof, too clear and crystal. Funguayou and its sibling slept noiselessly inches from freshly lain hoof tracks. The sobering relief of reality did little for the pain persisting in his palms--souvenir from a tactless dream. Thinking a walk might distract from the spasming vibrations, the dwarf rolled on and over to his feet making right away for his pet.


    Climbing the bluff, the dwarf brought stubby legs next to Waspig¡¯s stubbier. By then the blue below them had lightened to a flush of yellow tinted green, the sun burning its way through  morning haze. Beyond, plains stretched for some distance at a slight downward angle dotted with pine and palm and strange fusions of both. And nestled at the end of the long slope of hills lay great beaches the dwarf had observed once before. As far to each side he could see, the sands stretched endlessly without curve towards horizons. His view ascending back upwards, the hills either disappeared into the vast tangling of nature just escaped or jerked abruptly to the clouds; became dominating mountains even higher than where the dwarf had last ¡®saved¡¯¡¯. Indeed, from here the dwarf identified the tree topped horseshoe he¡¯d traveled far, far from. Just barely distinguished, a mossy roofed cottage crested a cliff. But the beach drew more of the dwarf¡¯s attention--little reserves he had. With mere miles to go before ocean¡¯s impact, a vast city dominated the shore and commanded the dwarf¡¯s gaze. But he sucked in some air and relaxed it, his eyes drifting to Waspig. It groomed itself earnestly with disgusting sucking and slopping noises forcing strange laughter out the dwarf--quietly and fast dissipated.


    There had once seemed a great rush within the dwarf to achieve entrance to the sandy settlement so far from the hole he¡¯d crawled out from. But the dwarf suddenly saw little in it. He tried to smell the frozen fish delivered by his doorstep, a scent cherished by a dwarf yet dwarfed. Now his nostrils tasted nothing. He scratched at his pet¡¯s head who continued its cleanse without acknowledgment. When Waspig wrapped its bathing to a close, the two descended back down to camp where Funguayou continued his sleep--the strawed did not, sitting eagerly and expectantly towards the freshly arriven dwarf. He frowned and hesitated. He felt spared a great fate from having to see its dozens of unnerving eyes it no doubt sported, and desperately the dwarf hoped the hay would stay. Concluding his prayer, he got on one knee and rested a wounded hand atop its round wheat covered head. Carefully he squeezed and released its bulbous top, a massage quickly shown approval. Though it slept, Funguayou¡¯s past words smarted his ears. The dwarf decided on ¡®Tuskus¡¯.


    ¡°Oh, what¡¯s up? I¡¯m late to breakfast? Buddy tell me you didn¡¯t eat without me.¡±


    Funguayou, having snuck up on him, could not sway the dwarf¡¯s grown disinterest for that so small and seemingly attached. Only in the company of elfs could the dwarf be seemingly granted peace. The alternative possibility of a life spent living among the sharp eared brought darkness over the dwarf¡¯s features. If everything had gone right, he reasoned, he and Waspig and Bathiel and Pistol and the others would be co-existing among those most sympathetic to the dwarf¡¯s love of nature. And yet, the more he dwelt on the imagined scenario the more implausible it seemed; the meat they served; the sterile pens they maintained. The dwarf held no real concept of diet, of the varied classifications based on that consumed. Home, he loved his chickens and could not bear to eat beyond eggs no matter the whippings endured. The same sentiment extended to pigs, naturally, disregarding their gestation. His opinion sometimes wavered on cows, sympathy usually welling but in the hardiest of them. His father had ridiculed dripping faces afterward, asking if he¡¯d brought home a camel. If so, he¡¯d picked the wrong one. But fish felt different--especially ocean caught, that which arrived on blocks of ice. Catching catfish by creeks was a task that brought fight to the table, failure robbing it of its plate. Such intense struggles often blossomed a strange intimacy influencing the dwarf afterwards to feel ashamed to skin and serve. But the truck delivered differently. His father paid; the boy hauled. Thawing, he--the boy--would inevitably direct the kitchen to ensure dinner. In this process the fish appeared as no different than onions and potatoes and parsley and mushrooms.


    ¡°Hello? Huh? Pal, your head on tight? Hey really, it was no small feat of you scooting from that place when you did, when you could. You¡¯re lucky to be alive, buddy, let alone the hog. Now give your chin a firm grip and twist your noggin¡¯ back on right ¡®cause we need you focused. We¡¯re aiming for the city still, surely? You certainly had your heart set on the place.¡±


    The dwarf shook his head, Funguayou more surprised he had now his attention than the content of his answer.


    ¡°What¡¯s that? Come on now, why not? Hey it¡¯s all the same to me pal, if you wanna just set up shop here on Mammoth Hill you go start chopping wood and I¡¯ll keep an eye on the boys. But you wanted some fresh ocean caught hauls. We won¡¯t be finding any here, unfortunately. Well, what would you like to do?¡±


    The dwarf found himself caught in an internal schism. He felt a compulsion to explain what The Ponderous advised before its twisted end. But he just as well blinked slowly and thought himself too tired to describe anything to anyone, least of all it. Funguayou watched the dwarf lower to the ground and drift off, its chiding refused at sheeps¡¯ gate...


    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    The boy sat up in blackness.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    He groped for anything tangible. The boy found floor only.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°DWARF... HELP... DWARF...¡±


    But despite the hollow voice¡¯s insistence on speaking, the boy could trace it to no direction.


    ¡°HELP...¡±


    The boy shifted his legs to run and submerged them into the abyssal ground. No matter his writhing, they would not cooperate. Further cries for aid met useless ears. The booming pleas trailed on incessantly, each repeat weighing heavier on the boy¡¯s soul. Before long his entire frame lowered into the blackness, and his vision became the same.


    ¡°What does he wish done with the heavy one?¡±


    ¡°Yes, haul him this way. His fate is the chieftain¡¯s.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s lids drew back cautiously so as to not reveal his awakening. Shifting both arms in slight gestures, he realized them bound. The dwarf glanced below and ascertained rope wrung tight round his ankles. Only then did he understand the vehicle traveled in--a wooden wagon. Behind and ahead of him leather armored humanoids marched and chattered.


    ¡°And what of the others?¡± one asked--behind.


    ¡°What of them? She wishes for only the strong,¡± answered the other ahead.


    ¡°Yes, but there were others.¡±


    ¡°You should have slain them.¡±


    ¡°They are regardless bound.¡±


    The dwarf peered past his feet requiring gentle adjustment, and he beheld the disarmed, beaten forms of Funguayou and Tuskus. Where was Waspig?


    ¡°You gather dinner on your hunt?¡±


    ¡°Yes, game accompanied them.¡±


    ¡°Where is it?¡±


    ¡°Sent back with the green. I am surprised you did not cross paths with them.¡±


    ¡°There are many ways to reach the forest.¡±


    The dwarf shut his eyes and steadied his breaths as best he could manage. Once again his pet had been snatched under his protection. He hated himself for it.


    Bells rang. His careful gaze alive again, the dwarf realized the brass chimed from a steeple nestled within pine palms. It struck him how similar its--the steeple¡¯s--design appeared as to that tucked into the horseshoe long since escaped. But the appearance of this place menaced from afar. Spears jutted from around the property, skulls lined strung from top to bottom. Skeletons pinned above the entrance of the church featured a fraction of their original compositions. The dwarf swallowed hard.


    ¡°Think the brute¡¯s awake,¡± one suggested. His opposite laughed.


    ¡°The sooner the better. Let¡¯s get this rolling.¡±


    The cart completed its journey, resting after against the church wall with its heaviest contents thrown over a shoulder--fungus left behind--and he, the dwarf, hauled inside. His view permitted a deeply familiar shade of red rolled straight ahead, though trodden with mud and dirt. Where pews likely once rested, cages and dartboards took their place. He saw haystacks with painted bags half covered and dozens of arrows protruding; kegs and barrels dispensing to the thirsty; grinning sharks with hungry gazes. The dwarf¡¯s vision whirled across the wall and onto the ceiling--hole free--as the dwarf became thrusted onto his back, groaning. Above, a figure rested in a throne before a bloodied bible. Her clothes appeared somewhat like the wear of the elfs but of patchier material, and filthy. The heels of her sandals betrayed viscera stains. Her hair, long and matted, reminded him somewhat--only somewhat--of his mother. But one difference was clear: her brow thickened itself over her eyes, a sight balanced strangely by delicate chin. Unlike her subordinates, face paint smeared her features: one red box overall and two black eyes as a backdrop to the actual. Much of her men smiled and cheered like his father on rare and terrible nights. But the expression she met the dwarf with conveyed nothing. It helped little his view distorted the chieftain onto the roof, but he could nonetheless perceive a disturbing relaxing of her muscles--not as if at peace but of lacking interest.


    ¡°This man will mine?¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s man,¡± responded one of the dwarf¡¯s escorts.


    ¡°So small. But aye. There¡¯s work in them arms. But he¡¯ll need fattening up. You brought dinner?¡±


    ¡°Damned new recruits must¡¯ve made off with--¡±


    The church doors, having been sealed following the dwarf¡¯s entering, slammed open with the appearance of two further goons dragging their kill in.


    ¡°Apologies, chieftain. Our way became distracted. Tis popular meat.¡±


    The dwarf broke. Laying on its side, he knew Waspig had come as corpse.


    ¡°Why does he cry?¡± the chieftain asked.


    ¡°Whatsit matter? Ah, sir,¡± the bandit hastily corrected.


    ¡°Perhaps they were attached. Pity. Small one, you were caught resting in our territory--our hunting grounds. You became prey the moment fire was lit. Now we¡¯re in charge of a mining operation, and we¡¯ve accepted your trespassing as application. I¡¯m getting at this: welcome to the mines, beard boy.¡±


    The dwarf lay still.


    ¡°Is he dead?¡± asked a bandit.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± she sounded, eyeing the prospective miner. ¡°Cut his binds.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked again.


    ¡°You heard her,¡± spoke his opposite, moving over to the dwarf, flipping him onto his back (with some effort) and sawing off his threaded shackles. Finished, the bandit stood and observed the inanimate. He attempted flipping the dwarf back how he previously was--but his foot could find no leverage. The dwarf continued laying flat against tile.


    ¡°If you¡¯re sore about this all,¡± suggested the chieftain, ¡°then we must make it right.¡± She rose from her throne, a hefty chiseled thing. The chieftain took a shortsword off the wall and tossed it to the ground. The dwarf raised half his head to meet the clang--in his hands it¡¯d be long.


    ¡°Oh, come off it chief,¡± whined Waspig¡¯s murderer. ¡°I ain¡¯t want to kill the shrimp.¡±


    ¡°Quiet. I won¡¯t have a plotter in the mines.¡±


    The dwarf balled his pained fists and raised himself off the floor to his feet, the taken sword rising.


    ¡°How does the hilt hold? Our picks bear similar heft. Now, the hogsect slayer shall use but a dagger...¡±


    ¡°Hold on, chief, how fair is--¡±


    ¡°You will fight him barehanded then.¡±


    ¡°Chief!¡±


    Her eyes, so fixed on the whinging of her goon, did not realize the short distance crossed so quickly by the dwarf. Blade in hand, he whipped the thing through the air and found the chieftain¡¯s throat, and blood sprayed against the weapon, its bearer, his beard. A second sword entered the scene bursting out from the dwarf¡¯s chest, his own crimson coating the slain slumped lifelessly against her throne. The metal withdrew from its created cavity, and the dwarf fell forward and over, cheek to tile. He continued to clutch the bestowed shortsword with a grip bone tight. But as blood pooled beneath his beard and footsteps drew close, he realized his impending fate.


    The dwarf held the thing a little longer, let go and laid dead.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    The message disappeared. Rain poured through a gaping wound in the ceiling of the steeple, down into the depths of a hole crawled out from some time ago. But, blinking, the dwarf realized his skewed sense of time had spirited away. The flesh he awoke to, though bruised and wrought with burst veins aplenty, bore not the wounds endured of a cottage, of a dense forest and elfen cruelty. Thunder clapped unavoidably audibly, maw so gaped. Stained glass smeared with the wet brush strokes of rain illuminated before darkening, ebbing and flowing.


    The dwarf had died. The dwarf lived again. Once more he died, and once more he breathed--not an experience any of his kind could relate to.


    Waspig grunted, its limbs set firm, tusks poised to pierce. At once a flood burst from the dwarf¡¯s eyes, and he knelt to sob into his creature.


    ¡°WHO DARES SET SUCH... SIN...?¡±


    Caught off guard, the pigsect shrugged its master away respectfully, firing air out towards the tall figure shouting from the doorway, hatchet in its hands of many. The dwarf snorted and struggled to regain himself, overwhelmed with grief and relief and wanting little else than to bounce out into the rain with his pet and play. But, wide mushroom headed silhouette blocking the sole entrance and exit to the chapel--its cap as crisp as the carpet--the dwarf understood an immediate responsibility. Steadying himself and scratching behind Waspig¡¯s ears, the dwarf staggered over to a standing candelabra and gripped it tightly in his palms. He centered himself between the creature and the funguay, pitchfork poised.


    ¡°ASSAULT GOD¡¯S DOORS? THREATEN HIS PEOPLE...?¡±


    The funguay advanced carefully, hatchet bobbing, torch flaring, parasol quietly disposed, all other arms writhing. At once the dwarf burst from his pose and sprinted across singed carpet to needle the quickly raised ax and puncture with three prongs the underside of a flared cap, fungus of God pinned against His walls. Its many appendages lunged for the dwarf, some pulling at his beard, but few could grip else but desperate air. No wriggle freed its capturing.


    ¡°RELEASE ME, STOUT HERETIC...! RELEASE...¡±


    The trapped teetered into silence--solely staring. What it did and did not understand about him, the dwarf could not identify. It merely blankly looked. Guilt chilled the dwarf¡¯s spine. Waspig lived. In fact, somewhere, Bathiel and Pistol and the rest did, too--somewhere. Were his actions now a necessary defense or a dispensing of anger? But before he could reflect further, the funguay writhed its bored head as aggressively and erratically as the candelabra allowed, bleeding where it didn¡¯t, hundreds of spores sent sailing around the room in a haphazard vortex. They settled like snow. The dwarf could taste it. Seizing the enormous blossoming of rage within him, the dwarf squeezed prints into the pitchfork raising the funguay up off the wall and into the air. Its dozens of arms protested vigorously, the thing gruesomely shrieking. But summoning the fresh reserves of a timeline lost and rediscovered, the dwarf stomped his legs to the once-climbed cliffside and, with a final effort, thrust the candelabra out, entangled contents and all, hurtling down into the abyssal deepness punctured by rain. The funguay¡¯s noises faded as fast as its color. The dwarf staggered backwards before crashing down onto tile.


    Arms and legs splayed, the dwarf allowed his pet to wander over and curl up against him.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 10¡±...


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    With Waspig in tow, the dwarf exited past the thin smoldering smoke up from the ashes of the church¡¯s double doors into blasts of sunshine, puddles alight, sounds buzzing with ostensibly a refreshing evening. At this moment in a life lost, the dwarf drowned under heavy blankets and mushroom loaves. He thought about where the funguay¡¯s cottage might be, realizing he held no recollection of here to there. But the dwarf shut his eyes, his recollection of yesterday¡¯s gaze from the plains strained. Blink finished, he set out in his best guessed direction.


    A mushroom headed toad croaked. It hopped twice before becoming swallowed by a larger one, and this--the dwarf broke off from the cycle with disgust. He fully understood what grew atop his and Waspig¡¯s heads even if they physically yet presented themselves, and he dreaded Funguayou¡¯s imminent return. In the meantime, the dwarf set his mind to the positives of his trot, to the revived companionship of Waspig, to the defeat of the funguay, to even the possibility of rescuing the other hogsects. But his sole focus seemed most pressing: secure shelter. He reasoned, stepping over and around obstacles in the road--debris from mountains above--the cottage within this seemingly abandoned stretch of land so securely separated by thick elfen populated woods could be the perfect plunder. And he could not help thinking of the funguay¡¯s home in any other way, knowing he¡¯d sentenced its master to either death or imprisonment within once his own cell. But the dwarf was not going to allow shame rot the cottage.


    Waspig buzzed happily by its master¡¯s pace. The two followed the remains of what once was a trail connecting the steeple to mankind--if they were, for the funguay suggested altogether a different presence. But surely it was just him and his now? The dwarf shuddered considering the framed photographs once observed atop a mantle. While feral beings seemed to lurk within the dark to prey upon creatures like Waspig, their more communicative variation too populated this world. Did the latter lurk as well? The dwarf did not wish for the funguay¡¯s forced experimentation to color those like it. But how could he bring himself to trust another of its kind--or anyone, really? Perhaps Doetrieve, responsible guard he seemed, could present as a beacon of sensibility--but not while the elfen administration continued in its reverted, perverted rule under Captain Locust and an infected Ponderous. And beyond the elvish, bandits of the dwarf¡¯s own former species operated in plain sight, gutting cruelly and decorating ruthlessly. But perhaps, the dwarf posited, his treading nearly interrupted by twigs, that he was a bandit as well.


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    As the moss smothered home came into view, its path having forked off the main road leading elsewhere, the dwarf could not shake his sense of degrading morals. And yet the walk soon reminded the bones of the dwarf they tired. He recalled his initial meeting of the funguay, how he fell asleep so soon after--no doubt the culmination of weary--and drifted in and out under its care. Guilt once again wracked the dwarf¡¯s nerves, and he silently advised himself to shut out reason and act in his best interest. And the dwarf tired tremendously. He put his quivering hand to the knob of the cottage¡¯s front door and turned. Unexpectedly, it clicked right open. A parlor revealed and remembered welcomed its two new guests, one of which pushing the door back into place and the other seizing carpet. The dwarf rushed to the back exit--this too had been left unlocked. Perhaps the discovery confirmed a general theory of abandonment in the area, that the funguay needed not bother with safeguards when already surrounded in such natural safety and comfort. But the dwarf wondered as well if the funguay ignored its cottage¡¯s locking out of arrogance, and perhaps others dwelling in the area stayed away from fear. The dwarf attempted to place himself behind the eyes of fungus, remembering indeed he¡¯d burned down the church¡¯s entrance. Despite the downpour, the smoke produced must have frightened the funguay to remove itself so fast from its home to investigate--but was ¡®frightened¡¯ correct? Wouldn¡¯t confidence have driven the shroom from its home with ax in hand--hands?


    The dwarf wondered if the funguay was okay. He then collapsed onto bristles before cold logs and glossy frames...


    Awake to raps, the dwarf¡¯s body reacted as if Waspig knocked at the cottage door. And, blinking around, he could not spy the pigsect in the bleak dark. Shuffling emanated from the cellar--surely his pet. But the knocking continued. The dwarf kept his body still and rested his neck, eyes closed. Following a brief pause, a third round came and went, and boots shuffled. The dwarf maintained his pose, neck wet with sweat. Then came a voice.


    ¡°Doctor Mallow, you rest?¡±


    The dwarf could not believe the speaker, and he restrained a fit having immediately understood the danger he and his pet were in. Captain Locust¡¯s elfen knuckles knocked a fourth tune. Only with this performance did the dwarf realized the unsecured lock. He silently cursed himself. The dwarf dared barely breathe. Air drifted lazily into his hung gape and flowed out the same. His limbs began to cry out from discomfort, but the dwarf would chance no single movement. And, remaining still, the rapping discontinued, the weight against the doorstep creaked away, and the captain¡¯s tread faded into the night. Some moments passed. Down the cellar glass crashed. The dwarf let loose the longest exhale he¡¯d ever uttered. Cautious to his feet, the dwarf crept with care minutes at a time towards the front door miles ahead. His mind raced to compensate, the illusion of moss topped safety shattered. Captain Locust? Here? How, and the why as well, the dwarf desperately sought answers to, clammy grip fumbling on the funguay¡¯s knob. He stiffly turned the thing and received a kiss of night time air.


    Below the dwarf laid a lumpy package of gold and black paper bound in twine. His dwarfen eyes scanned the dark but could make nothing out and did not wish to look for much longer. So the dwarf drew the strange reflective gift in and clicked the door shut gently, twisting the lock after. He hesitated. More ostensibly fragile objects shattered below in the myriad of tunnels beneath the cottage the dwarf did not anticipate enjoying a second traversing of. Putting off the task of retrieving Waspig from its redecorating, the dwarf tore gently into the gold and revealed purple and, peeling away this, produced reflective multicolored gems and monocolored coins. The dwarf stared at the treasure blankly. Sheet metal squealed and wobbled below. The dwarf decided he could stave off his responsibility no longer.


    Only a few hour passed, and the night continued. In the interim, the dwarf rescued what remained of the cottage¡¯s laboratory from the destructive curiosity of Waspig, it happily munching on failed experiments aplenty. Jerking the creature out from the lab and back towards resurfacing, the dwarf raided the kitchen and loaded up a knapsack with mushroom bread--begrudgingly, for the stores offered little else. He identified the fireplace¡¯s poker and jabbed it through the sack, then looping its strings around his broad arms. Before departing, the dwarf scooped the various mantle portraits off and into a second wrapping of cloth. The dwarf and his pet exited, the front door non-negotiably left unlocked, and the two swooped back up the path to the horseshoe nestled steeple.


    There, the dwarf dropped the second bag of memorabilia down the church¡¯s hole.


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    And the two turned round and out back into the black night. Although shaken by the sudden appearance of Locust and the strange connection between he and the funguay, a point in positive¡¯s favor dawned on the dwarf in the dark. In another continuity of time, he had wavered between sleep and wakefulness under the weight of blankets. But now he dashed, and Waspig fluttered, towards the forest slowly coming into view, its thick tanglings daring re-entry. While fear gripped his shoulders the dwarf realized another responsibility owed: to Pistol, to Bathiel, to all that likely huddled together in the bleakness of a pen while feral funguay anticipated hearty meals in the safety of their cavern.


    This is why, against all preservation for the self, the dwarf flung his weary form forward into the forest before the cliffs before the plains before the shrouded city on the shoreline.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

    Having sprung so deep into the forest not far from the plundered cottage, only following the dwarf¡¯s third stumbling into wet earth did he somewhat regret charging recklessly into the night. There seemed evident reasons all around: black bounded between tree and tree obfuscating all directions. The dwarf had felt certain his chosen direction would lead to the ravine, but certainty shattered over stray twigs and snagging branches. He rose up from muck, the dwarf¡¯s face wet and indecipherable like the abyssal haze so smothering. But after rising he ceased the search party and calmed Waspig to camp, the dwarf soon resting against a log with raised writhing bumps. He shot forward and found his hands suddenly resting against more bark. With one cautious step backwards the dwarf stumbled back into mud. Waspig¡¯s wings whipped the same substance against its master¡¯s wooden enemies.


    Perhaps morning would have proven a better departure, the dwarf daydreamed, dripping. He did not necessarily hold against himself the rashness of so soon a leave on so depleted a stomach--he wished desperately to save the swinesects deep within an unlocatable crack in the earth. He felt it at least wise to have prepped as he did, unraveling the bag pierced with iron poker. The dwarf produced a smushed loaf of mushroom, sat to his prayers somewhere dry, and began forcing bites down one after another, coughing sporadically throughout the meal. Despite being granted more than ample time to adjust, the dwarf¡¯s eyesight could not separate tree from grass and grass from hog, relying solely on sound. He thought once more of halcyon days echolocating back to his farm and father, webbed moss his robe. It was dark then, too, but the unobserved canopy sprawled high above the dwarf now made certain of an impenetrable night. The dwarf figured no other plan followed sense but to wait for dawn. He shivered, naked. So his arms piled atop bunched knees and the dwarf made himself small. Waspig, sprawled across muck, made aid of its wet hair. It somewhat helped, but the gesture warmed him more than anything.


    If not for the anchor of his pet, the dwarf worried the darkness would overtake he. Already his senses seemed strained, few hours of sleep not nearly as sufficient as the rest gained in a fallen timeline. His eyes drooped inadvertently jolting the dwarf awake, a repeating of the process soon ensuing. The dwarf threw himself suddenly onto his bottom, Waspig evidently having woken and taking up another activity. It eyed its master strangely before returning to its game, such happily expanded. Wings warped up gusts that occasionally breezed by the dwarf¡¯s cheeks. The cold continued. But the presence of his pet just as well set his teeth on edge, Waspig¡¯s sounds obfuscating many of the forest¡¯s own auditory offerings. In-between grunts came rufflings and whistlings and wallops and whoops and all sorts of other cacophony that phased only the dwarf, the pigsect¡¯s play undisturbed. He convinced himself if Waspig felt at ease, so should he.


    So when Waspig ceased activity to hold firm and huff, the dwarf¡¯s hairs erected.


    Waspig growled its equivalent, feet only as firm as the dwarf could imagine in the blackness that pervaded. The dwarf¡¯s mind rocketed between the possibility of Captain Locust¡¯s approach, if not a second enlarged chicken. He caught a buzzing and a beating--like a heart, but wetter. The sound grew duplicates, and soon all around the dwarf and his pet swirled a sea of insect noise. It seemed maddening, sound arriving, crashing like waves though the dwarf could attest to no physical sensation. And then all ceased, and he sat still and Waspig continued huffing. Somewhere far but not distant glowed--unnatural light; not dawn. As soon as bark became lit did the glowing stop. It appeared elsewhere, then, that soft pulsing. Each appearance marked varied locations all within and beyond the dwarf¡¯s grasp: batches of vegetation, scarred oak, crystal mud. Another source of light joined the stage. Three became visible in three separate corners; four; fifteen. Each bug beat its drum with thumps ricocheting off trunks, hinds alight to darken. The dwarf soothed his pet realizing the presence of this world¡¯s equivalent of the firefly.


    They, the fireflies, buzzed and lit in various tones of murky greens and browns, variations of more saturated color via fungus observed. Light crisscrossed past particularly long poles of wood; became swiss through bushes. The dwarf roused the absorbed Waspig and continued forward under the flies¡¯ careful guidance. Slung back behind, the dwarf¡¯s half eaten loaf bounced around skewered by poker and, to his side, Waspig trot warily, its defense yet yielded. But the dwarf was merely happy to see no threat. The further they traveled, the more the sense of walking through a galaxy dawned on the dwarf, lights rising and falling throughout nature¡¯s cage, canopy vibrant with the shatterings of dark. They brought the dwarf and his pet finally to the edge of a massive ravine running east to west infinitely in both directions, the sense further aided by whatever darkness the fireflies could not penetrate. The dwarf noted additionally they ventured not across the gorge, the blackness of elfen territory a thick wall of its own. But this mattered little to the dwarf¡¯s interests: he had not come to liberate the sharp eared.


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    The first embers of dawn began shooing the insects of the night away in favor of multicolored jewels. Ruffling his pet¡¯s fur, the dwarf looked upon Waspig tenderly. He rested an ear against it and felt its thumping and beating, his cartoonish hands soon grazing in rhythmic tracings. Its life would not be endangered this time. Instead of across, the dwarf needed down--a task more than possible. Mounting the bugbeast, the two unceremoniously hopped off the edge of the cliff and, forceful but measured, Waspig¡¯s wings fluttered in the golden dawn that sunk back into black. Tipping his pet upwards nearly vertically aligned with its tail, the dwarf hovered in a slow descent. He felt grateful for the little light afforded, deftly dodging wooden webs and entangling moss, his dance and descent so long the dwarf wondered if the two hadn¡¯t tricked themselves into an endless trek. It was only when Waspig¡¯s feet splashed into the ravine¡¯s sole source of water did the dwarf realize success.


    The morning¡¯s light helped, but it would unfortunately be an early afternoon¡¯s sun before the grainy atmosphere would disperse. The dwarf slipped off his pet and submerged himself, the thrill of a sudden intense cold powering his swim. He twisted and scrubbed, caked mud flaking off into the stream. And out came a clean beard. Stumbling forward, Waspig was ahead at the shore and, rejoined, fauna and shrooms showered in water off the dwarf¡¯s bare body. It took some time to dry, the sun¡¯s heat not quite potent. The dwarf filled the hours scavenging through the graveyard of carts and vehicles left to rot. Yet themselves to do so, vegetables became rediscovered, and the dwarf barely restrained himself from gorging on an uncooked sample while tossing another to his expectant pet.


    Beneath clumps of blackened wood and shredded sheet metal, a rusted pickaxe was discovered. It certainly came with some heft, but the thing felt good in the dwarf¡¯s hands. He set it aside--his poker would suffice for now. The vegetables, meanwhile, entered the sack with the mushroom bread, and back it came across the dwarf¡¯s. He approached a familiar tree and broke free sap. Satisfied with the drenching of a branch, he set the would-be torch down to grind wood together--a laborious task, his loss of some ¡®SURVIVAL¡¯ levels felt. But fire sparked just enough, a small campfire following, enveloping the sticky substance his would-be torch dripped, means of light provided.


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    While the dwarf couldn¡¯t seem to rediscover the stash of eggs, he managed once more a leather belt out from wreckage. Again he strapped the thing around Waspig and smeared its topmost portion in sap. The dwarf had recovered the once used bowl and filled it with the same sticky mess amidst d¨¦j¨¤ vu lacking all mystery. He dipped the torch through the air and alighted the bowl¡¯s contents, flickering light soon strapped to his pet--one for him, one for his. Satisfied in the reperformance, the dwarf, together with Waspig, entered again the foreboding moss shrouded cave.


    Waspig trotting alongside, light bobbing and bouncing, within the long tangling of rocky walls and tunnels the dwarf traveled surprisingly with ease. He remembered a dwarf that aimlessly wandered dark sprawling halls and contrasted against his current venture, certain stalagmites recognized, splotches of off color familiar, dead ends ignored. It surprised the dwarf how quickly he came to behold the glow of another flame flickering against rock: he¡¯d found the funguay. Resting his torch against the wall and forcing Waspig stay put, angry face utilized and surely menacingly lit by two of the three light sources, the dwarf crouched and cautiously drew forward alone. Rounding a corner, he beheld once more the shacks and shanties of feral funguay, their constructions which wrapped around stalagmites and -tites and their fire which offered quick evidence of only a recent start--game yet to be mounted. All the better if he could save one more, thought the dwarf.


    If.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    ¡°STEALTH SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Lurking with beard precariously past a towering stalagmite, the dwarf surveyed the situation deep within enemy territory. In a previous lifetime he¡¯d lost himself to misplaced rag, and the dwarf--light on sleep as he was--resolved to see a less violent solution to his prison break. A few dozen steps back waited Waspig, leather strapped round its body bolstering flame out of sight. Another fire burned--that which crisped in the center of the cave, attended to and admired by many feral funguay. Others, his adjusted eyes observed, paced around aimlessly. Some entered and exited the shanties erected all round the milky white cavern, one or two trapped in a cycle of leaving and re-entering their homes. Watching them, the dwarf realized he remembered where he¡¯d once retrieved health potions--their planned swiping, along with the livestock, blushed his cheeks in the dark--when had he become such a thief?


    His father would be ashamed.


    But the dwarf recomposed himself remembering the multiple lives at stake. Carefully, the dwarf put one foot in front of the other and left the safety of cover to crouch slow and surely towards the pen. Funguay thankfully found no reason to stalk the same area the dwarf maneuvered through, making for a comfortable trek. He slid behind a ramshackle building and peered through its sole window, jagged wood daring contact; there lied in the corne-- ostensibly--wheat bread. But sounds of soft chitters suggested an occupance, and the dwarf nervously scanned until identifying a slumped heap against a wall. The taste of mushroom loaf that remained in the dwarf¡¯s mouth inspired fervor; he chanced creaking the entrance¡¯s door loose. The funguay stirred, then curled.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    Creeping in, the dwarf took his time, the bread ahead anxious to have the dwarf¡¯s hands pressed against it--at least, the dwarf thought so. The floor, some pathetic attempt at merging rock with plank, created a dangerous soundscape, a keen eye necessary for avoiding certain creaks and groans. Breath steady, the dwarf moved along in near silence.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    The freshly baked loaf of proven scent came into the dwarf¡¯s hands, and he considered unslinging his sack to quickly store the treasure. But some faint notion came over, warning of a clattering of his iron poker. He accepted the premonition, turned round, and began creeping back out. In his anxious excitement he put a foot firm down onto a loose plank, its moan so unfortunately loud in so sparse a room. The funguay chittered to life. The dwarf forced his pace forward, clumsily treading over three more boards that brought the funguay to its feet. But the dwarf dared not look back to confirm. He continued in the darkness until reaching the exit ajar, slipping out and forward to unsling his bag and sling the remains of his mushroom loaf through the sole jagged opening. He waited. And he raised his eyes to find, to his relief, the feral thing feasting upon his offering, the groaning incidents evidently gone. The dwarf peered around to make sure the breaking and entering had not been overhead or seen by another. It appeared to had not. And so the dwarf advanced to the pen.


    Towards iron bars jutting out from rock and dirt, the dwarf quickly identified, to his enormous delight, Pistol and Bathiel and the rest to be named. He once more unslung his sack and retrieved the loaf of surprisingly normal bread, something scored and with decent crust, he discovered, breaking apart a chunk and wolfing it down. Another part came off, and he knelt near the jail offering the sample to whoever would take him up first. This eventual volunteer sported wild locks much like Bathiel, but the dwarf noticed a distinction: eyes all almond. This must be the once slain brother of Bathiel, he realized. The dwarf decided on ¡®Cath¡¯. Cath accepted the piece with little hesitation, its docile nature appreciated. Of course, a chain reaction set off, and soon the other hogsects came to investigate what their stockmate seemed so preoccupied with. More divisions of bread were handed out: none remained. Of the three creatures that seemed nearly identical give or take their heights and tusk sizes, the dwarf chose ¡®Blissey¡¯, ¡®Mustard¡¯, and ¡®Chef Girlodee¡¯ in honor of his hens back home, though even he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d be able to keep the names consistent.


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    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 11¡±


    With trust established and the issue of naming resolved, the dwarf set to his next task: breaking out the hogs. The pen gate did not appear locked in any way--but he remembered the certain sound of its reverberation, hesitation quickly following. The dwarf folded his arms and paced back and forth, unsure. He took a few steps away to glance at the continuing blaze in the center of the cave, but to his horror, he noticed Waspig beginning to wander out from the crevice he¡¯d ordered it to. A few more hooves and it would breach the tunnel and trot out into the open, its mounted hues of orange and yellow a sure invitation to all funguay. The dwarf¡¯s teeth chattered. He tried waving his hands back and forth in a vain desperate attempt at catching his pet¡¯s attention, pleading to discontinue its adventure. But such a journey could not be stopped, and Waspig entered the cavern¡¯s hub. The dwarf¡¯s eyes shot to the funguay that turned in confusion, shambling towards his pet. He darted to the pen¡¯s gate and screeched it open, the horrible whine of rock and iron grinding throughout. Many funguay broke from their gaze of the new fire to the source of the sounds instead, following in suit.


    So did Waspig.


    Light blazing across the cave straight towards him, an army of funguay closing in on his location, the dwarf fell to panic. To his surprise, the freed bugsects maintained calmer demeanors, seemingly all focused on a new scent in the air. Indeed all dashed out and past the dwarf, a gathering forming quickly around the newest bovine arrival: Waspig, fire mounted to its back continuing to blaze. The dwarf shoved his way through and immediately set about removing the bowl from his pet--to no avail. For one, it burned his hands to hell inflicting jolts of blood thumping pain throughout. Two, it simply attached to the sap beneath too well. The dwarf detached from the scene, grabbed his poker, and jammed it between bowl and belt, sacrificing his left hand to holding the former steady. The intense heat set his flesh red, but the dwarf persevered, forcing the poker further through the adhesion until at once snapping free, the bowl bouncing off and gyrating across milk. The dwarf thrust himself forward and, taking it into unburnt palm, swung and hurled the thing across the cavern, flying disc soaring and shattering against rock drapery and igniting clung moss.


    Many funguay broke from their dwarfen investigation to admire the toasting of a valued food source. But some, the dwarf realized, maintained their stagger towards his party. He found Waspig among the crowd, threw his arms around it, laid kisses to the beast, then straightened himself and shot an arm out directing it forward. Obeying, Waspig began a trot back to the crevice it had wandered from, Bathiel and Pistol and Cath, Blissey, Mustard, and Chef Girlodee all following in pursuit. The dwarf swore an eighth creature too escaped within the mix, but he could pay the idea little attention: his responsibility required a defending of the flank. Leaping, a funguay closed the distance between it and the dwarf. With both hands gripped around the poker, the dwarf bashed the tool forward blowing back the feral inhabitant.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 8¡±


    Another advanced. The dwarf held the poker out while the rest of the bugsects fled the scene. The funguay chittered, gasped, gagged, and vomit before the dwarf. Before he could process the fast series of events, one struck, the dwarf taken completely. It collapsed atop the stout form beneath it, beard caught in its clenching maw. The dwarf threw the poker to the side and, with what might his arms could muster, shoved the funguay off and onto its back, hairs ripping from his chin. With a clear break following, the dwarf drew his weapon behind and launched it away; snapped around and shoved off into the long tunnels ahead, footsteps and chitters of those undistracted heavy on his trail. His legs, little as they were, danced in such momentum he caught up with the caboose of the bugsects, ushering it forward with urgent insistence. And out the dwarf and his army escaped from the series of winding tunnels into the fresh evening of the ravine. While all the hogs stopped to lay and regain their energy, the dwarf wasted no moment: he reached for the known pickaxe and leapt at the entrance of the cave, climbing and mounting atop.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 19¡±


    And he swung.


    ¡°MINING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    And swung.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    And down collapsed rock. And down collapsed dwarf.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

    Howls woke the dwarf. His back against the flat pit of the ravine, his view abyssal, the dwarf¡¯s prone form ached top to bottom. The blood in his temples pulsed and the dwarf drew his hand towards for comfort, absentmindedly brushing the fur of his beast--Waspig¡¯s flank. He grew to notice the flanks of others as well, realizing he was guarded in all directions by an army of swinesects. The crackling of the fire that endured boosted his morale, long shadows cast from his buzzing warriors.


    Another great howl and the dwarf understood the company they shared. Coyokes--the smooth dogs that dripped mud--gathered around the gathering around the dwarf. Even with the slight aid of the burning of light, he could not ascertain their numbers, their growls blending into one another, their steps mixing into the same broth his animals contributed spice, huffs of air so consistent the dwarf swore he was protected by an engine. It roared to meet the dogs¡¯ noises that grew and all the dwarf did, he did so laying still, his head barely cocking, each movement grinding his bones. He realized he could really not move at all. It wasn¡¯t poison, he was sure, but pure exhaustion. The dwarf had contributed so few hours of sleep to his mission and so little nutrients his body rebelled and stayed his limbs from further action.


    Why weren¡¯t the vegetables cooked before heading in, the dwarf wondered, the boiling point of the animals¡¯ aggression seemingly imminent. Just eating the sole chunk of bread he had had been a critical mistake, only reinforcing his hunger. His fire crackled so loudly it made the dwarf salivate. A particularly loud whip of fire rang through the air and a sludge drenched animal cried. Its siblings advanced, and the hogsects round the dwarf leapt..


    The dwarf¡¯s glossy eyes gave view to a brutal fight. Chef Girlodee dove its stinger forward, a coyoke slipping by easily and spinning the cook into the air as wildly as Waspig had suffered before. Waspig himself charged the same dog with tremendous force, its tusk goring the creature, Girlodee fluttering away doggedly. Pistol, so large and remarkably thin, dodged a swipe and another but could not escape all claws that came, a scar embedding itself down at an angle. Its tiger stripes bleeding, Bathiel rushed to Pistol¡¯s defense, its wild mane whipping round smacking the assailant off its balance. Girlodee came down upon another fast and unsuspectingly, its prey immediately stagnant without a sound. Pistol oinked in a manner the dwarf thought considerate. And then, to his horror, he watched a mudkip leap from the shadows atop the celebrating chef, its fangs deep into its neck. It--Girlodee--howled in agony running into a gallop, the two crashing into carts, wheels dispersing. Cath--wild as hair as Bath with eyes more almond--and Bathiel sprinted to the incident, dodging obstacles and assailants alike. Mustard and Blissey, their appearances barely distinguishable from Girlodee, both contended with their own fights meanwhile. Waspig broke from the scene heading fast in the dwarf¡¯s direction, Pistol quick to join. He wondered why, craned his neck, and met the eery pulsing eyes fixed above fangs that drooled over. Before the dwarf could scream, but before the wolf could act, a creature utilizing the shadows as well as Girlodee¡¯s vampire sprung and sailed a hoof kicking the brains of the wolf out from its skull and into another corpse of its kind.


    The dwarf¡¯s savior, now that the still burning embers brought clarity, was a bugsect all the same as Waspig and the others. But its fur dismissed the ragged brown that defined his others, pinkish properties and all replaced blinding albino white. Its dozen eyes as red as its stinger, below it sported no tusk to speak of. This, he realized, must have been the eighth addition to the party that fled the cavern--that which had been destined for the fire. His dwarfen heart beat with gratitude. He chose ¡®Joshua¡¯...


    The dwarf awoke to the forgotten health potions first thing on his mind. The second notion he had was another round of gratitude for being alive, for his trusting these animals so. Their insectoid properties, in truth, still brought out terrible anxieties--but he suppressed it with love. So his dwarfen heart came to shudder as he realized Blissey and Mustard as well as Waspig had gathered around one of their own fallen. Chef Girlodee laid dead.


    The dwarf put the back of his head back to the earth and shut his eyes for a moment, thinking. He opened them again to understand Pistol, Bathiel, Cath, and Joshua all walked, roaming the canyon. Their party had suffered one loss--the enemy had lost all. To roll the dice again in pursuit of no casualty weighed heavily on the dwarf. But he could not validate the decision. It was a wonder he¡¯d survived the prison break, and only this success was what brought the survival of the coyokes. And despite the tiredness so thoroughly felt, the dwarf was not dying. He knew this. There was no ¡®HEALTH LOW¡¯. And in addition to vegetables, they all now had plenty of meat. He would not suicide. But he would not dishonor the chef either. So, gritting his teeth, the dwarf wedged himself up off the ground (to the notice of his Waspig) and shambled towards the collapsed ruin of once a cavern entrance, the funguay inside forever sealed God willing there was no second cave. Laying against pebbles was the rusted pick the dwarf had swung in a demonstration worthy of any demolition. He took the tool, dragged it, and began hurling its end into the earth. With bone clenched he rose the thing and brought it down again. Meanwhile the lazy blue above began its transition to proper, golden dawn.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    At last the dwarf had his hole. He came over to Waspig with careful movements chosen however likeliest to least induce pain. His hands ran through its fur. Blissey and Mustard both received slow strokes across their heads, the dwarf¡¯s forehead brought slowly against theirs. Pain now inevitable, he nonetheless dragged (not for a lack of trying otherwise) Chef Girlodee to his dig site and rolled the corpse in. The weight of sheepdogs past--chickens, cows, hogs--made the burial a mechanical operation in all but sight. The dwarf relied on this to carry him forward the final mile, bringing his dogged form over to the first coyoke he could find. He cleansed it in the flowing pool. He drank from the spring. He stripped the flesh. The kill came upon a stick, vegetables too ran through, and the fire became fed and the dwarf¡¯s kitchen was complete. Some hogsects, meanwhile, tended to their meals raw. Others, catching on to the wonderfully commanding scent, brought their captures to the dwarf who, fueled by the sense of repayment, once more willed his tired form to clean and cook more corpses. And by prenoon, the fissure filling slow with light, the dwarf feasted with tears in his eyes. It was not sympathy. It was the bliss of gratitude.


    But next meal, he¡¯d find some rocks to rub together.


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    ¡°COOKING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Full, the dwarf rested by the fire he nursed and intended to continue well into the next night. Though he had not run the rounds he wished to to properly inspect the canyon walls, he seriously doubted a second opening he would not already have found before. And even if such a path existed... the dwarf¡¯s confidence in his pets brimmed. Waspig, on cue, curled up beside its master. The dwarf would love them all, he knew--but there was no bond that could be tighter knit, than that between he and his Waspig. He drifted, content...


    Only a few hours were granted to the dwarf whose eyes whipped open at the sound of further growls. But, he quickly realized, they all emitted from his own. From a distance, he unfortunately realized. His body begged for more rest, but the dwarf shrugged off the suggestion, rising to a hobbled stance, forcing his way forward towards the crowd gathered around more shattered carts. Drawing close, the dwarf pushed aside Blissey and Pistol, entering the situation to find Waspig having cornered a coyoke pup. Terrified, it had wedged itself as far into the cart as possible, avoiding Waspig¡¯s stinger. It at once struck the dwarf this scared creature looked the same as that which had fled in his previous lifetime. He ran his hands along his pet¡¯s wild locks and convinced it down, the obeying creature soon sitting polite. The dwarf unslung his bag and took a handful of crisped translucent peppers, his unoccupied palm at once gesturing his party back. With the pup somewhat calmer, the dwarf offered the intoxicating scent of his food and found it unreceptive, so he settled for rolling the vegetable--after some pause, the creature leapt upon the offering in a fervor. Of course it did, the dwarf realized. No wonder both trips to the ravine had led to encountering these same dogs--they starved. The dwarf was thankful for his choice in company. And to this he wished to add one more, another pepper withdrawn and dangled. The pup wisened, accepting the prize before anticipating another. So it was with the passing of the remaining vegetables did the dwarf¡¯s band gain its first mudkip.


    The matter settled and cleared with the group of swinesects, Waspig certainly aware now of the status swapping from foe to friend, the dwarf expected his pet to keep the others in line. He really had no choice, the dwarf felt, for he staggered only a few steps in the direction of the waning fire before collapsing...


    Evening was well under way by the time the dwarf regained consciousness. The unnamed coyoke had yet been digested by any of his pets, mud dripping wildly from the pup happily chasing around Bathiel and Cath. He realized the familiarity of a curled up Waspig and, in fact, a few more additions to the slumbering pile in the pit of the ravine. But one member settled in isolation under heavy shadows cast by overhanging rock: Joshua. Its albino fur visibly stirred with the coming of wind. The dwarf¡¯s cheeks cold, the rest of his aching form found warmth. And while the lonesome nature of the tuskless hog troubled him, the dwarf could not entertain his thoughts for long...


    Night came and went, clearly, the hazy blue dawn of another day greeting the dwarf¡¯s slow blinks. Still the grainy, dark swaths of mist that settled at the ravine¡¯s pit continued, but there was no light like that of which traveled in cycles above, of which he was became aware he¡¯d taken for granted, the sun and moon--sans planet--stirring as they did on Earth. The dwarf had not given the matter of the alien world he clearly inhabited much thought in terms of his placement--he only thought of taking the tree to task, it who damned him, and escape could come after. But these thought processes created splintering problems. What did escape mean to the dwarf now? Was he to return to Earth, to his father, to his familial indentured servitude to crop and seed? But it was safer--unbelievably safer no matter the drudgery. The dwarf, though it had not happened this lifetime, knew now the specific pain of a spear wedged into his shoulder. He¡¯d received his own pet¡¯s stinger straight through. And a blade. He lived now. But such feelings were not so easily forgotten. And another trouble set itself in the dwarf¡¯s mind: was it better the tree knew nothing of his survival, of his climb up from his hole? Could he be damned to a deeper one, more inescapable, treacherous, taxing, without his steeds? He thought of The Ponderous¡¯ last words, its desperate advice to seek out others of its kind without so much as a single direction. He thought of The Ponderous now--alive, suffering. But the dwarf reminded himself: he did not come to liberate the elves...


    Prenoon basked the great ditch in light, the dwarf¡¯s slumber having yet once more come to an end. Despite seemingly hurtling in and out of consciousness, he felt surprisingly refreshed. Rising, he stretched his dwarfen limbs, cracked his dwarfen neck, stroked his long beard. It brought great satisfaction to see, nestled in the white fur of Joshua, the unnamed pup. Though he regretted the mud staining of the carpet, such surely necessitating a dive through the pool. But he wouldn¡¯t interrupt their sleep yet--the dwarf could use a walk, he thought, vaguely tossing a coin through his imagination on whether he¡¯d stop to pick up the gold pieces where he knew they laid. But the dwarf wondered what good the effort would amount to, what shops he stood a chance of visiting; that city on the shore may never be visited. Such thoughts clouded the otherwise cheerful start to his day. He wondered of the package Captain Locust had left at the mossy cottage, such intricate, fancy wrapping it was, such treasure it contained. Any gold scavenged surely paled in comparison to the hoard awaiting he and his.


    Of course, now that the dwarf had regained some strength and felt abler to walk about, it dawned on him he¡¯d somehow have to conduct a venture back up and out of the ravine. Though the dwarf considered other options: plenty of meat remained. Perhaps venturing down one of the directions of the ditch might lead to the discovery of a knife--a very necessary tool if the dwarf intended on slicing the meat thin for hanging and drying. And the pickaxe, its days of glory a distant day ago indeed, did not inspire confidence in including the tool in the dwarf¡¯s kitchen--not in this manner. With such a large supply of food remaining, the dwarf felt doubly inspired in his idea. He went about and confiscated the netting he knew remained in this pit; he wrapped the raw meat tight in it and brought the contents up to the small waterfall that allowed such a pool to exist in otherwise inhospitable depths. Affixing the stuff just below where water pounded--many rocks¡¯ weight utilized accordingly--the dwarf figured his game could keep cool while he would assign guards to stand watch. Yes, he decided he could trust Waspig with the task, navigating over to his beloved pet and gently scratching its ragged fur to awakening. His creatures¡¯ dozen eyes slowly flickered open to meet its owner--and at once, Waspig leapt to its feet, snarling. The others awoke and too gathered around the dwarf, each huffing in aggression, tusks bobbing, snorts emitting.


    The dwarf swore on the atmosphere¡¯s familiarity. The sudden turned nature of his animals frightened him, but something stranger struck the dwarf as a particular known horror. And then he could feel the blood drain from his face in realization, eyes widening, eyebrows raising, spacing apart. Cautiously, as if he were to disarm a bomb, the dwarf¡¯s shaking hand crept up to the top of the dwarf¡¯s bald dome.


    Atop, thick fingers met unexpected resistance. Along the base of his bald, the dwarf¡¯s hand slid up the cylindrical tube of a mushroom.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

    Waspig¡¯s tusks low to the ground, the dwarf could not escape noticing its fresh coat of red. All around him, his creatures from Pistol to Cath stood poised and angry, air blasting out one set of nostrils right after another. The dwarf¡¯s breathing slowed. He had felt afraid before, but the atmosphere that choked him by way of his turned army set sweat on intense downward trajectories, blobs of salt pelting the sandy rock below his shoeless feet. This is when he noticed the dripping wet dog, its stature so stout, defiant against his army. He looked back up to as well find an outlier in the swinesects: the albino had retreated to the shadows, peering with interest. No other defectors could be identified. Knowing full well what his fingers would prod, he still drew his quivering hand up to the shroom that bloomed from his bald head, desperate he wouldn¡¯t. Was Funguayou aware of the trouble it caused?


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes shot fast around the canyon bathed in afternoon light. He could no longer escape via the now sealed cavern--only left or right. Indeed, the dwarf would not dare attempt a vertical climb no matter how high or low his athletics (for he could not even remember), well confident his slow pace would lead to a quick death. The concept of succumbing to his creatures so soon after saving them summoned nervous twitching all over. The dwarf scrubbed at his head, massive fingers furrowing folds of skin so anxiously he became aware his nails dug blood. The dozen unsympathetic gazes that met his passing eyes set a chitter in his teeth. He foresaw no church pantry.


    Waspig leapt forward, hopping and swinging high. The dwarf breaking his pose, he took a rammed Pistol to the legs and crumpled forward. Bringing his face off the ground, he reached both hands out and stashed the coyoke under his form, that which received numerous blows from Bathiel and Blissey. Wobbling back and forth, the dwarf forced out a blind roll and splashed into the river, dog slipping from his hands. Coughing, the dwarf watched with wide eyes Waspig dash forwards the shivering critter between he and his first tamed. His maw shot open and his lungs roared, a screech in the negative blasting out from the dwarf between the tall rock walls.


    ¡°ENTERTAINMENT SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ENTERTAINMENT SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    The sudden sound tripping up his pet, the dwarf splashed over to the pup and attempted to once again protect it--but its slickness defeated his hands, the dog popping up out of the air and back onto land. As it whipped its slick body, so did Waspig, and the latter resumed its charge. The dwarf¡¯s voice spent, only a croak escaped, his stubby legs sloshing through the creek clumsily and hurriedly. As the swinesect closed in on the mudkip, so too did the albino close in on Waspig, delivering a swift kick to its rump sailing it into the river along with the dwarf. Overcome with relief at the intervention and anger over his own pet¡¯s defiance, the dwarf crashed down atop Waspig. The two wrestled in the water while further action embroiled Joshua against its kin.


    Wings whipping water up into the air, Waspig blasted out from the creek with dwarf attached, arms wound tight around its tusks, the power of voice returning to a terrified owner. The two shot all throughout the canyon, Waspig¡¯s trajectory haphazard and obviously uncompensated for the additional weight. The dwarf winced as the back of his head slammed into roots, but his attachment remained resolute. So disoriented from the flight, it took the dwarf several seconds before he realized the two had traveled far beyond the confines of the trench and back up into the green of the forest, multitudes of jeweled insects rushing around the wild disturbance in their neighborhood. It was not long before the two crashed against a towering tree, Waspig¡¯s headfirst slam stunning the creature into dazed submission. Slipping off his ride, the dwarf immediately set about chastising, a series of firm negatives flying out from the dwarf¡¯s vicious lungs and against his embarrassed Waspig. Beaten into obeyance, its visible anger having completely waned, its head lowered. In this moment, the dwarf realized what had occurred, the feedback looping of one angered bugsect influencing another at sight of the growing shroom, and in turn creating a neverending coursing of anger throughout each and every animal until broiling over into an assault. Alone, the dwarf had control. But against a mob--hopeless. The dwarf counted his blessings in the form of the albino and mudkip.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 12¡±


    Realizing the no doubt continuing violence within the depths of the ravine, the dwarf turned to return to the cliff¡¯s edge. As he did, Waspig followed, and the dwarf spun around and forced out his palm, an angered shout as cement. Waspig eyes shot large with surprise, and the beast sat its hind legs down with both hooves forward as fast as it politely could. The dwarf nodded. He turned back to the ravine, made an educated guess as to the location of the river in the abyss, and dove.


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Sailing through the air, wind screeching right alongside, his sudden voice seemed to command attention of the chasm itself. But then all became very quiet before a momentous splash stunned paused ongoing brawl back down below. Surfacing, the dwarf watched Joshua receive a powerful blow from Mustard--but it merely shrugged and continued its defense, dripping dog cowering against rock. As the creatures realized the dwarf and his mushroom had returned, many targets hifted at once. Surprised, the dwarf dove back beneath the water as the milky form of Bathiel and Pistol soared overhead. But out of breath, he was forced to return to the melee and receive a nasty blow from Blissey, the dwarf¡¯s form sailing against the waterfall. Crumpling against shallow rocks, it took the dwarf several moments to realize an available option. He set himself upon the stashed, netted meat behind the cascading water and freed it of its raw contents, polluting the river with the flesh of the fallen. Rope freed, he exited the river and dashed over to Joshua, hurriedly draping his prize across the slick mudkip. Suddenly slinging the creature over his shoulder, the dwarf took off away from and along the water and into the unexplored, his feet kicking up sand and dirt and nearly a loose wheel. He and the dog sprinted round the curving rock walls with, unfortunately--confirming via quick glance--tailers hot behind. The albino could not be counted among them, and the dwarf thanked it silently in between steps for its aid. To think another timeline had seen it charred and blackened.


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    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 20¡±


    Sprinting, dog bouncing behind him in his bag, the dwarf skidded to a sudden halt and dove right as the ravine split in two, river continuing. Not capable of turning back, his dash continued until his feet could not be forced any further, and so he collapsed atop soft grass. Cheeks tickled by blades, the dwarf¡¯s face rose to survey how far he¡¯d come: still well within the ravine with no end in sight, river now absent. Greenery dominated the section in particular, masses of vines hung clumped off trees and rock lining, grass waging its patient war against exposed sediment. The dwarf¡¯s eyes scanned for a possibility of cavernous escape, but it would not be. He turned to his loot, squirming dog it was, and freed it from its cage. It sprinted remorselessly away and around the bend. The dwarf¡¯s vision lingered at its last seen spot until his weary eyes rested--as did his form. He breathed in. Why couldn¡¯t he ever really rest? He breathed out. But at least the dog was saved. And to his surprise, hot breaths woke the dwarf from his nap in the sun--it had returned. Weakly, he smiled and reached to allow the coyoke a sniffing. Satisfied, the creature dove its head beneath the dwarf¡¯s large palm and purred as best a dog could. The moment slipped from the dwarf¡¯s fingers as the distant rumbling of hooves spurred him to his feet. He at first reached back out for the critter, but the dwarf had a feeling he¡¯d not successfully wrestle it back into rope nor would it aid their relationship--so he simply burst into a run and delighted at the dog keeping pace. The dwarf decided on ¡°Speedy¡±.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 21¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    Speedy, shooting ahead, led the dwarf through thicker and thicker foliage as grass climbed up the beaten slope. It occurred to the dwarf, finally turning around, that he was looking downward--indeed, he and his new companion had traveled far, though the walls on either side continued towering. So up they marched through rising twists and thick blocking trees, past sloped roots and thickets, until the dwarf and his dog emerged fully out from the abyss and into the woods. With the sounds of advancing hogs, of which their endurance the dwarf could not help admiring, he wasted no moment and kicked his aching legs back into action, now following the cliff edge back towards the direction of, eventually, Waspig. The lungs exercised as both engine and music began to shrivel, the dwarf felt, his weak emissions outshined by the youthful heavy breaths of the galloping Speedy.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 22¡±


    Still the dwarf could not chance another look behind until the pair came upon a rushing river--one of the many sources of that which flowed in the ravine. He could ascertain only two pursuers: Cath and Bathiel, almonds fast into view, wild locks sailing through the wind. The fast pup once more reverted to a cowering, and so the dwarf stood firm. As the two hogsects came close into view, their stingers preparing for flight. Worn and ragged, the dwarf wrung his lungs and demanded another performance: out came a blast disorienting the paths of both jagged points.


    ¡°ENTERTAINMENT SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    Disturbed, neither creature could summon the resolve to continue their fight. The dwarf stomped forward with confidence expressing loudly his disapproval. Both Bathiel and Cath whined in response, lowering. And so the dwarf gently scratched beneath their chins, rubbing the sides of their pink faces and bringing them in for a tight embrace. Conquered, their violent air clearly dissipated, and they rose and approached the dwarf and Speedy asking for forgiveness in their dozens of eyes.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    It was not long before the dwarf noticed the incoming Pistol, its awkward, lanky body bounding ahead as best it could. The dwarf stepped forward separating the tamed and the to-be. He attempted another scream but emitted only dust. Panicked, he twisted round and leapt at the rushing water cupping as much as he could swallow. Lubricated, the dwarf returned to the battlefield just as Pistol closed in, and to this he re-applied his voice sending the creature skirting against sand in submission. So too did the dwarf forgive. Then came Blissey. Then came Mustard. Both tuskless, their bent heads bounded regardless of potency towards he who had freed them. He rewet his throat and finished the re-taming of his flock.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 16¡±


    Crossing the river, the dwarf--animals just behind--returned to Waspig who he found surprisingly engaged in play with Joshua. How the latter ascended, the dwarf would never know, but at his appearance--at first sight of the shroom--Waspig growled once more. The dwarf fired back discouragingly. Straightening up, Waspig then shifted its position to welcome the returning party of its siblings. Though still hurt over the loss of the chef, the dwarf beamed a wide smile in appreciation of the resolved conflict. It waned somewhat as his fingers confirmed the fungus atop him stood steady. And then the dwarf huffed, crossing his arms, thinking how the party would return home. Speedy, meanwhile, drew up to the albino hog and once more stained its fur, its wet head nuzzled into Joshua¡¯s. But he could see no discomfort. So he smiled once more.


    The river. Of course. It became obvious to the dwarf his means of escape. And so, creatures following one after another, he and his flock fled upwards out of the forest and away from the thick tanglings of wood. Before long the path demanded short climbs of which the dwarf managed and his pets flew over (save Speedy who, with Joshua, maneuvered through other means).


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 23¡±


    Before long the massive shattered egg rising up out the mouth of the waterfall came into view and, with it, the steeple and its own adjacent shell. Forwards with nine others behind, the dwarf approached the blank book by the end of singed carpet.


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±

 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

    Within a few hours the dwarf and his party returned to the plundered cottage. By then it was late evening and, on the way, the dwarf caught sight of stray fireflies, their hearts beating loud in open air. Opening the unlocked door, the dwarf sucked in the last breath he¡¯d have of the outside, entering and exhaling, pets bounding behind. Once all nine gathered, he set the lock firm, checking the back door as well. Before Waspig or another could return to redecorating the downstairs laboratory, the dwarf shoved the parlor¡¯s couch in front of the cellar. Despite their all encompassing blackness, each hog¡¯s dozens of eyes still managed disappointment. This feeling subsided as the dwarf dumped another pile of feed out from a pantry. It struck him odd the funguay--who he remembered as Doctor Mallow--would collect so much supply for such a lack of livestock.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 17¡±


    Checking once more on the locks and blocked cellar, the dwarf realized how little energy he had left to give. Pouring water from chilled jars stored within heavy black blocks, he drank some and his flock drank more. It behooved the dwarf to resist dropping to all fours to lap liquid as was performed around him, instead procuring a glass and sipping carefully from its lip. One more refill and he sat the cup down, then himself. His back fell against carpet, his sides became surrounded by hogsect. The dwarf¡¯s eyelids fluttered, and black overcame...


    Doctor Mallow took a scalpel to the dwarf¡¯s flesh, hot blood bursting from cut veins punctuated by hoarse yelps. The dwarf¡¯s arms, pinned to metal, could not be freed. His legs wriggled restlessly. The funguay took a pill off a table with no support and popped it behind the dwarf¡¯s skin. His dwarfen teeth clenched to the point of faults. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. But his sight soon returned to the scientist, now a heap on the ground. Standing above the corpse stood a woman of long scarlet hair. She smiled from beneath strands and, brushing them aside, her face bore the writhing bark of The Ponderous, his sudden wails shocking the dwarf with fright, his vocalized misery inescapable.


    ¡°KILL.... ME.... DWARF...¡±...


    Awake, it was newly morning. The dwarf¡¯s creatures scurried about the cottage in wild play, each critter bouncing and bounding one after another--mudkip included, albino not. He grumbled and rolled over to breathe in carpet. He didn¡¯t necessarily wish to return to sleep and, potentially, another cruel nightmare, but the noise of hijinks prevented such either way. Rising, the dwarf paced around observing the destruction of the home and the wild acts of his animals. He¡¯d need a barn. Was he planning on building one? Was he set on planting roots where he stood? Waspig oinked. The dwarf furrowed his brow. He, in fact, did want to stay, the presence of a building with door--no less lockable--improved his chance of survival by a felt magnitude. Giving it up did not seem so eager a decision to be made. And for what--to go to the city on the shore? Despite the remembrance of scent so aquatic, the dwarf knew he had no business heading there. And neither did he wish to return to the elves--they who imprisoned animals underground and slaughtered his own, once. The Ponderous Tree likely suffered, its parasite yet clipped--but why would he need be the one to do it? The dwarf weighed the possibility of wrestling out a clue towards the tree who damned him so many saves ago. If he wished to pursue the investigation, would the dwarf not fare better with shelter, time, and proper plans? Despite the destruction of furniture and marking of walls, the mossy roofed cottage seemed a veritable oasis in a world so otherwise dangerous. A glance at the fresh red markings across Pistol drove the point home--no matter what his next move was, he¡¯d not put any of his flock in danger again, God willing.


    Gold and black, the reflective foil left untouched atop a dresser drew the dwarf¡¯s gaze. He took the package into his hands again and revealed again the assortment of baubles that each radiated in pure saturation. Multiple rimmed coins flickered from what light came through windows. This was no gift, the dwarf figured, but payment. And as he connected the dots within his head, all the less did he feel guilt for his imprisoning of Mallow. In the best case scenario, the dwarf considered, the transaction between captain and doctor was complete and no elves would be seen at this elevation again. But even this hope produced an unignorable caveat: what if Locust wished to do more business? And the worst case scenario, the dwarf sweat, saw suspicion grow within the captain for his gift needing be left at the doorstep, no final words exchanged. And that suspicion would naturally lead him right back to the dwarf and his flock. No--best and worst, the cottage could only function temporarily as sanctuary. Perhaps, then, the church could serve. But repairs would be extensive: no front door existed but as ash, the ceiling exposed the church¡¯s guts to the elements, and there was the matter of the massive hole once escaped--not to mention the dwarf¡¯s replacement. Yet he saw no reason for an elf to investigate so far to the river¡¯s source; Captain Locust would surely go no further than the cottage. But obstacles laid in the dwarf¡¯s path. He needed a way of transporting the feed, unwilling to make several smaller trips versus one haul. He would need to scour the pillaged home for seeds to plant, if such were stored, for he knew no food awaited him back at the house of God. And some sort of temporary fortification would be necessary at His entrance if the dwarf wished to sleep soundly, army or not.


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    The dwarf was convinced.


    Rewrapping the jewels and returning them to their spot out from the pigsects¡¯ collective reach (should none remember their wings), the dwarf began his stripping down of the cottage. The kitchen¡¯s collection became understood over the course of an hour. No food awaited him here either, but ingredients such as flour and ground mushroom were identified. Indeed, the dwarf recalled the dormant kitchen within the steeple and imagined capabilities. But no way of growing more to eat could be found. The dwarf decided to breach the cellar--alone, refiguring the furniture to keep his pests--thought affectionately--from disturbing his search. And down the dwarf traveled, down and through a series of halls, doors, stairs, doors, halls, stairs to such a degree his toadstool topped head bobbed and bounced with every turn until at last coming to rest--as did the rest of him--deep in the bowels of a decimated laboratory.


    It appeared a sad sight.


    But among the debris, the dwarf noticed a shattered glass collection of what could be none other than bonafide seed samples. Indeed, the dwarf recognized woven packets with miniature illustrations denoting the contents of each. Corn. Broccoli. And something mysterious. The dwarf unslung his poker-less sack and stashed all his fingers could find. Turning, his foot landed atop a pile of unseen shards. Yelping, he fell backwards and smashed a table, flasks coming down atop his head and shroom. An intense sweep of dysphoria froze the dwarf, realizing his nerves reacted even to the bleeding fungus atop him, glass embedded. His hand melted, rose, and gently pulled at the foreign object, red splatters dotting the tiles below. Though no sound surely emitted, the dwarf felt the shrieks of Funguayou. He picked the glass out from his feet after to his own grunts.


    Carefully rising, the dwarf touched the tips of his toes across the lab floor towards a cart of tools upturned. A fully black bottle caught the dwarf¡¯s attention--he took it, popped the cap, and dribbled its contents onto tile. Clear it came out--like water, but viscous. He let a little fall onto his palm and confirmed his suspicion: 100% proof alcohol. Grimacing, he let it pour onto his foot and suffered the burn that strangely satisfied him. It would have been better, the dwarf thought, to have had soap, but he was not sure such existed in any form he knew. The disinfecting complete, the bottle too joined the seeds. Still stepping precariously, the dwarf finished his sweep of the laboratory and exited into the tangle of hallways and stairs outside. It was not long before he found himself within the lab again, and out he stepped for another go only to thrice return. The dwarf wanted to scream. Collecting his thoughts and breathing deep the cellar air, the dwarf once more entered the maze beneath the cottage, its routes plenty and interwoven, its turns confusing, its stairs misleading, until the dwarf, by then with fresh sweat upon his brow, realized the furniture before him and, crawling over, returned to the late light of evening and his flock.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 24¡±


    Affectionate rubs doled recklessly, the dwarf smiled and stretched his beard ear to ear. He put his head against Waspig, and Waspig nuzzled the top of his. So too did Pistol, and the dwarf took to it the alcohol of which it very reluctantly allowed. After its cleansing, he and his flock of hogs and single glistening dog curled into a pile and, although he went hungry, he did not go without love. The following morning¡¯s rays did not wake the dwarf. No knocks came from either door, and no hogs dared disturb their master¡¯s rest. But the dwarf did wake, and it who shattered his sleep did so with two miniature dwarfen arms and two more leg, both the tone of its talk flesh. The oddity--standing firm, arms crossed, wound fresh atop its head--impatiently tapped away its foot. And it greeted the dwarf loud:


    ¡°Hey, you. I¡¯m Funguayou.¡±

 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

    Within a few hours the dwarf and his party returned to the doorless steeple. By then it was late afternoon, sun still high and beating. Before setting off for the journey back, the dwarf awoke to undeniably talking fungus, its features half dwarfen--though no beard. It, sitting and complaining of no fire or pipe, could be none other than Funguayou. The dwarf sat himself up straight and stared at the illegitimate offspring with a mixture of nostalgia and contempt. Here was a character from his lost past, but all the same one forced upon his party. It had been captured with the dwarf and brought before the bandits and their lust for blood. But, more importantly, it knew of Doctor Mallow--by extension, its home. The dwarf set to it a request for the location of a wheelbarrow.


    ¡°A wheelbarrow?¡± asked the shroom. ¡°Sure, dwarf, what else do you desire? I am an excellent chef, you may recall, having inherited the culinary arts of the doctor. So why don¡¯t you relax in the comforter I know you enjoy while I tend to a meal. Hmm? You are following my jest here. I thought perhaps the first words out from your beard would be a greeting, if not an apology. Several. I don¡¯t suppose my wound was sterilized, for one. Though I suppose it is not entirely your fault we were beset by bandits, for two. Perhaps we shouldn¡¯t be sleeping next to smokestacks. Really, I am still reeling from the loss of my last self--as are you, dwarf. Oh yes, you haven¡¯t forgotten I know what you know. Indeed, I know now what you knew that I knew not. Still following? I am aware of the reset, and it is nasty. I wondered when we would discuss the mechanics. You know none of those human slackjaws could use the book? Not even Mallow--not I, either. Now don¡¯t get a big head, you¡¯ve enough bald as it is. ¡®Saving¡¯ may be a possibility to others. But as far as what he knows, and what you know, and all that I now know--this is your play, dwarf. You are bound to EXP as we all are (and your cooking is still laughably insufficient), but you alone can save. So someone is looking out for you. And, by extension, I assume, us. You do mean to include me in the party? Yea, I am aware of your lingering distaste. Well, you didn¡¯t ask to be a dwarf. I didn¡¯t ask to have my spore put on your dwarfen dome. Now--Hells, we must descend back down the cellar, he keeps a pipe there. And another good tool that should aid us both. I can¡¯t go another second without a smoke, come--come, dwarf, we can discuss our feelings another time. Ok!¡±


    Funguayou clapped its dwarfen hands together. The dwarf did not move or offer much in the way of response other than a blank stare, fungal revelation ravaging his mind. Indeed, the dwarf had once felt violated having his thoughts observed by Funguayou before it departed him, but took it at its word that further thinking was safe. In reloading his ¡®save¡¯, the dwarf had relived the dwarfen funguay¡¯s birth; Funguayou gained all thoughts made before. The mushroom repeated its instructions and shoved against his legs in a vain effort to rouse the dwarf up off his sit. He watched his flock watching Funguayou. None animal acted unusually--same as they had with the first Funguayou. And like that instance, too, Waspig bore his own illegitimate fruit. While thankful his pet¡¯s growth aroused no violent response from its species, the dwarf suffered a pang of annoyance. He appreciated, further, that he could be sure Funguayou would have no future access to thoughts as these--not so long as the scientist stayed in its cell, spores to itself.


    Acquiescing to Funguayou¡¯s pleas--out more from interest for the tool than aiding its habit--the dwarf eventually moved toward the cellar¡¯s barricade and, together, he and Funguayou traveled down back into the learned labyrinth beneath the mossy cottage, remaining hogsects meanwhile continuing the art of ruining. Quicker than he anticipated, the two arrived to what was left of the laboratory. Funguayou shook its head at the madness.


    ¡°Some tamed sheep you shepherd. Not that your animal husbandry¡¯s much, really. Well you¡¯re certainly no baby but hardly a toddler. I¡¯ll aid you in this, the doctor is a fine example to emulate. Yea, I know, I don¡¯t mean as a being. But you wished for some reasoning to the feed. And yes, he keeps a wheelbarrow around. Why don¡¯t you have a check of the tin chest there--I see what I require myself so artfully tipped over by our porcine friends.¡±


    And off the fungus trot, stub-like dwarfen limbs bouncing comically, the dwarf averted his gaze fast to the new directive. Over to the chest his large palms pushed up against the lid--it did not budge. He gave it another try. Struggling to the production of a bead of sweat, the dwarf relented, his fingers grazing a keyhole; it clicked for the dwarf. He, still careful with his toes, began searching the immediate area for signs of a key. None laid on countertops nor hung from the walls. No drawer produced one and neither did any shelves. The dwarf rummaged through piles of porcine destruction and found nothing, came up to Funguayou for assistance with nothing--naught but three thin stalk like screws. He found the fungus with a handful of herbs and a pipe. It packed the thing, noticing after the presence of the beard hovering beside.


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    ¡°Watch, dwarf,¡± said Funguayou.


    From overturned instruments it drew a strange metal device with grip of a different, blacker material. Outwards prongs extended and twisted into one another. Gesturing the tool towards the dwarf, he took it up and, as if by instinct, gripped the thing and produced a spark. The dwarf marveled at the advancement past sticks and, leaning towards the impatiently foot tapping fungus, generated another spark that sent flame into packed herb. Clouds puffed and rose into the laboratory¡¯s high ceiling. Funguayou breathed deep the sterile air after.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. I thank you. Now, what is it you¡¯ve brought me?¡± asked the aroma clad dwarfen parasite. ¡°Oh. Yea, these are picks. Was that chest locked? Didn¡¯t recall. Well, this is as good an opportunity as any to practice. Go on and try to click tumblers up where they¡¯re cozy. You¡¯ll know you did it right because it¡¯ll open, and wrong because it... won¡¯t. Ok?¡±


    But the dwarf did not loiter long, returning to the chest and clumsily sliding a pick in. It immediately snapped, and the dwarf was forced to use his second to scrape out the first.


    ¡°LOCKPICKING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°LOCKPICKING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    It delighted the dwarf to know even failure could be rewarded. It did not amuse him to think of his getting used to a different world with different rules. He did not try to dwell on the subject long and, instead, shifted his focus to the tumblers. The fast echoing rattle they produced on their ascents and descents gave the dwarf the impression of once more escaping moss strewn caves as a boy, his lockpick an extension of himself, his fleeing now tied to tiny pieces of brass. Having lost himself in the metaphor, the dwarf jerked the second lockpick out with a jump--snapping it in two--as the chest¡¯s lid clicked open.


    ¡°LOCKPICKING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    Inside laid the fabled wheelbarrow, its design surprisingly, strangely ornate, its trimmings intricate, its handle and wheel collapsable. While the guilt of theft weighed his hands, the dwarf could not stop fate. He took the tool and, Funguayou in tow, the two returned back up the stairs, loaded the treasure with sacks of feed, and began the journey to the steeple. Long the two walked, themselves a convoy escorted by hogsects at both ends, slow trotting Speedy at the front. Halfway to their destination--Funguayou riding on the stacked sacks--the dwarf¡¯s illegitimate offspring puffed on its pipe, half its rings catching the dwarf¡¯s face.


    ¡°Oh, I apologize. I lost myself a moment there--so, we¡¯ve plenty to address, yea? Do you hate me?¡±


    Coughing, the dwarf shook his head.


    ¡°Hey, good stuff, I don¡¯t hate you either. And I¡¯m no agent of the doctor¡¯s. I know what he knows and you know I know what you know. And that¡¯s Funguayou. Ok?¡±


    The dwarf, grunting to get his load over an assembly of pebbles, made no gesture, offered no expression.


    ¡°Ok. Hey, dwarf, I¡¯ll be proving it. Better get comfortable. I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    The dwarf offered little as reaction as well.


    ¡°Yeah, so. Well, alright.¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 25¡±


    And on the party traveled, and constant did the rings dissipate, and tire did the dwarf¡¯s soles. The shape of the church coming into view from up and afar, massive river flowing alongside to the west, equally gargantuan egg at its source, the dwarf let loose a series of tired, aching exhales, his hands bruised and purple, his load nonetheless arrived where he wished it. In through the front of which a gap bore itself unashamedly, Waspig returned to familiar territory, its kind following in pursuit. As the dwarf gazed at the handiwork of his regretted past, he turned to Funguayou and asked if it held levels in CARPENTRY--a guess.


    ¡°No. Who am I, Jesus Christ?¡±

 CHAPTER THIRTY

    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s face fell sullen as he glanced at the holes. Warm air crept in from above. Nothingness perpetuated below. Close to nothing, the dwarf thought. The funguay he had condemned to his own former condemnation compelled him to feel he really had earned the latter. Despite what the dwarf assumed of Captain Locust and Doctor Mallow¡¯s deal, regret bit at his dwarfen heart; rather that, his hand went to Waspig. Its locks caught the dwarf¡¯s gruff but measured rhythm, and the beast let out a deep grunt.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 18¡±


    He looked upon the rest of his flock housed in God¡¯s walls: large, tall, thin Pistol, its sterilized scars glinting in moonlight, gnawed a pew. Wild haired Bathiel and Cath bounced at each other knocking into Pistol¡¯s late dinner, a gesture it did not ignore and so entered the brawl. Even Waspig could not help but join as well. The dwarf could not claim to know well the difference in its species¡¯ definition of play and fight; it bothered him. But he looked to Joshua, vigilant in the shadows, its eyes too on what the dwarf did then decide to be play--so long as Joshua, tuskless and of a color of the moon, agreed. As well as the latter could the dwarf see the massive neighboring blue planet beheld once before. The night gleamed especially clear, releasing its stars to the steeple to dance upon all present. Indeed the dwarf felt embarrassment of making a barn of His house. These thoughts multiplied at the sight of Blissey and Mustard--so similar to Waspig but undeniably smaller--chewing on the remains of the red carpet in shifts. This the dwarf did not hesitate to intervene, chastising the creatures and shooing them off towards the smoking dwarfen funguay busy on its pipe. He could hear its complaints begin to stream behind as he walked, but the dwarf continued his forward focus, stepping over the charred double doors and out into the crisp night. Light footsteps pattered behind. Expecting Funguayou, the dwarf turned with a dreadful expression only to meet Speedy, mud on its tracks. He softened and allowed it to accompany his walk.


    Leaves rustled in fast bursts, warm air traveling on a warm night. Toads topped with ¡®stools bounced around the dwarf¡¯s path, Speedy¡¯s sight soon transfixed. He nearly stopped it once the creature bounded off towards its prey; his stomach stayed his feet. Upon return with its trophy, the dwarf praised it greatly, wiping his hand on bark after. As they continued their walk, it was not long before another frog emerged. Speedy too was fast upon it. The dwarf, meanwhile, gazed in appreciation of the surprising clarity, stars and moon and single speckled planet all assisting to light. He could make out the fine stems of branches and nests. In the latter rested a mother, mushroom atop. He thought of Waspig.


    ¡°Where¡¯ve you been?¡±


    Having returned to the steeple, the dwarf--armed with bundle of twigs and handful of frogs--marched silently past Funguayou and the still playing hogsects to enter the dilapidated halls leading to the kitchen. Speedy bounced happily along his side all the while. Dust clung to near every corner of every hall, contents ranging from furniture in decay to burnt black floors and walls. Here, the dwarf could hear muffled play. He and the mudkip eventually found themselves before the cold stove. Opening and stuffing wood between coals, he produced Doctor Mallow¡¯s flint striker and, within a few tries, brought about fire. Waspig wandered in during this process just as the dwarf needed it--tusks maneuvered as gently as the dwarf felt allowed, he dressed the frogs and set them into a dusty pan--capless.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    It wasn¡¯t long before the powerful aroma snuck out and down halls of great ruin, out into the steeple of three exits. Waspig and Speedy, fast made friends, were soon joined by Bathiel and Cath, Pistol and Blissey and Mustard and Funguayou. All were fed, but the dwarf, despite the contents in his stomach bringing bliss, felt a tightness pull at him. He took a few crisped legs and exited the bustling kitchen and down its adjacent halls to emerge into the nave of the church, its dark corners hiding from the stars that danced around. In these corners the dwarf found Joshua, a reluctant acceptant of the amphibious offering. But the pale hog relented, and the dwarf felt relief knowing his flock had been fully tended to--at least for one meal.


    Insects driven into the cool church from the surprising heat of the night bothered the dwarf and his companions, Funguayou remarking how it¡¯d love to take the flint to the entire lot. It was clear the ceiling and bare entrance were pressing issues to be solved, and it would take more than siccing Speedy on frogs to solve. But the dwarf recalled the dry wood stored outside--he did not use all to burn the double doors before. Back out into the night, he collected the sacks outside and wheelbarrowed them into His halls. There were logs aplenty, ready to be made planks of. But he did not have an ax. Despite the warmth, a chill crept up the dwarf--he did know of an ax. What he did not want to see was the corpse it belonged to.


    And yet, the dwarf needed an ax.


    His wits collected, the dwarf hobbled atop Waspig. Hooves on the edge, the dwarf peered into the vast tunnel of black he¡¯d escaped from, never having imagined a willing return this lifetime or any subsequent. But the two descended. Flapping its wings slowly, they traveled through near abyss--near, for the dwarf held a fashioned together torch with grip caked in mud courtesy of his mudkip. The flame flickered for what seemed eternity, and it nearly went out just as the dwarf beheld a wooden handle submerged deep into the tunnel¡¯s round walls, an unknowable depth further to where the end could be. The dwarf grabbed at the thing and pulled it loose from the earth, chunks breaking loose and falling to their demise. The dwarf listened carefully for a sound, and beheld none. Solemnity dominating the thin space, he chanced his voice and called for the fallen doctor. Whether or not it traveled, he did not know--no response returned, and the two waited an uncomfortable eternity. Scratching at Waspig¡¯s cheeks and neck, the dwarf let fall the spent torch and pressed his beard into the fur of his creature, dark infinite. Several moments passed before the dwarf felt willing to retreat. But ultimately the two rose through the abyss until it gave way to familiar color, the steeple¡¯s stained glass one of many beloved sights to return to as the dwarf dismounted and returned to the rest of his flock. He even mustered a smile at Funguayou, unsure if he meant it or simply felt happy to be out from the hole again.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 19¡±


    Regardless of what he felt, the dwarf knew his next task with clarity. He approached the scavenged logs with ax in hand. The blade rose and fell, wood split in two. Replaced by another intact, the dwarf repeated the rhythmic process known since near birth, before beard replaced cheeks.


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    It was only after a substantial pile had piled before the dwarf realized he¡¯d no nails.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

    Once more the dwarf returned to the plundered cottage, only then the sun choosing to rise. Colors once abyssal blue crisped purple until giving way to warm tones. Earlier before the blue had faded, Funguayou set the dwarf on a journey back in search of nails, hinges, copper--anything of general use in the construction of door. Before leaving, he ¡®SAVED¡¯, and the dwarf further saw to it heavy planks were propped up against the entrance in stacks, only a small alcove above allowed (if only for the dwarf could not reasonably figure out the necessary maneuver). He trusted his flock to the fungus, given ultimately no choice. The Ponderous Tree¡¯s cries found attention in the dwarf¡¯s thoughts during the color purple, and this uneased him. But, orange dominating the sky, the dwarf¡¯s heart beat its way to a full drumming rhythm, his task important but certainly not dominant, his return indebted to the left-behind package of jewels wrapped in black and gold paper.


    Creeping up to the steps, the dwarf¡¯s back chilled fast as he considered whether or not Captain Locust had returned while he and his animals were elsewhere. An immediate fear froze the dwarf¡¯s heavy steps. What if the elf were still inside? What if he lay in wait for either Doctor Mallow or its burglar? Hesitation stayed the dwarf¡¯s calloused feet, and it was not until he decided on chancing a window that he regained command of his limbs. Up slowly to it, the dwarf¡¯s breath clung to the glass, and so a shaky hand pressed as gently as possible across it while the dwarf kept his nose below the sill. A dark den greeted him--nothing looked particularly different since he¡¯d last seen the cottage. No elf laid in any chair. The couch was awkwardly a space away from the cellar as he remembered leaving it. But in such darkness the dwarf could not make out the package he knew laid just by the front. He decided to chance the back door given his proximity, and a clammy grip took hold of the door¡¯s knob. He twisted. The bolt resisted. Panic swept over the dwarf. Had Locust come and locked up for the doctor¡¯s sake? It wasn¡¯t unreasonable to consider the possibility of a second key--if a first existed to begin with, the dwarf weighed. He caught himself exhaling deeply, inhaling weakly. The dwarf then remembered he himself had locked the back door after returning from the fissure with his new flock. He wondered if an elf really had been to the cottage in the interim the dwarf had not.


    Coming back around the front in too fast a pace to consider stealthy, the dwarf tried the door and, to his relief, it crept open, light seeping in illuminating the package of tampered gold, black, and purple. The dwarf stepped in, swung the door shut, gave the lock a tight twist, and fell to the carpet in unbelievable bliss. He cursed himself for conjuring up a beast of his own anxiety unfounded in reality. Captain Locust had made good on his end of the deal and left behind the package. Remembering the elven gutting of funguay within the fissure¡¯s caves, he considered whether or not an elf would want anything further to do with one, non-feral or not. His berating continuing, he realized relocating to a doorless church with holes aplenty was a poor decision. The dwarf had given up the safety of reinforced entrances and a massive basement to boot. His forehead grinded against the carpet in penance, and the dwarf, exhausted, slowed to a stop...


    The den still bright, the dwarf came to nothing in particular, his tired eyes adjusting one blink at a time. He glanced about the place, light filtering through the sole pane of the room. He got up and shoved aside the padded wooded couch making his way back down into the well known tunnels beneath. Caught up before in learning the basement layout and tending to tasks, only in his fresh descent did the dwarf realize how many rooms had been overlooked. One opened into a modest bedroom--clearly the doctor¡¯s. Another into a tall storeroom. This the dwarf searched thoroughly, barrels upended and sacks pulled loose. Not only did the dwarf discover exactly what he was looking for--several fashioned hinges and a couple dozen nails--but bonuses aplenty. More corn and broccoli seeds joined what had already been scavenged, increasing the dwarf¡¯s chances of a successful yield, he appreciated. He found a sack of five fresh green apples and sealed it within the bigger of its kind--with two skewered holes to breathe. And more flour. Ground crumbs. Whatever he could grow, he would cook well. The dwarf even smiled at showing up Funguayou in COOKING.


    One discovered room led to a much smaller den, its shape circular and stretched higher than the storeroom. In fact, beams of natural light poured through the ceiling--through a massive glass skylight completely unobscured, the dwarf could see the sun at its apex. Gnawing his fruit, he could as well spy tall jutting branches and leaves as saturated as apples blowing aplenty. Despite the harshness of the sun, the dwarf needed not squint, he realized. Whatever properties the transparent glass bore the dwarf could not comprehend, but he understood as much as knowing it shielded from summer rays. No warmth penetrated to be certain. But the cool temperature of the cellar and it¡¯s many rooms were not responsible for freezing the dwarf into near immobility, his eyes fixated on the sudden shapes that appeared on one end and made their way to the other, their tall statures and knife-like ears projecting particular, unmistakable shadows downward. The chewed core fell from the dwarf¡¯s hands. He bolted from the spot caught up in the tide of rushing fear and terror and allowed himself be swept up the hallways fast as possible, barreling past the ajar couch and out from the cellar and onto carpet in a quick fall. Knee skinned, the dwarf sprang forward regardless and seized the package of coins and gems, skipping between both exits to reinspect the locks¡¯ positions. He found himself in the middle of the room trapped in a loop of panic as unmistakable steps settled across the other side of the front door.


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    Daring to make no sound, the dwarf¡¯s eyes tasted the salt that dripped from above. His tired feet felt a certain softness of the floor that could only be likened to a head on pillow. His palms regained a clammy property. He shut his eyes. He heard the knob wobble.


    ¡°This is Captain Locust speaking. Dwarf! You are surrounded. Unseal this stolen property at once!¡±


    The lock continued to jiggle, a tight, frustrated grip clearly wrestling from the other side in agitated fervor. The wood boomed with palms from the other side. The unmistakable scraping of blade against scabbard led to a brandished sword whooshing through the outside air. It slid past weatherstripping and poked and prodded the inside of the cottage, fishing no doubt for the bolt. But the actions were in vain and, in a gasp of anger, the sounds of repeated kicking rang, too many to be solely the captain¡¯s. And soon, unable to withstand the barrage, the door crashed to the ground revealing three elves in the entrance. To Locust¡¯s left and right his subordinates entered the room, bows low and ready. The left elf walked in marine blue, the right in green. Only the captain¡¯s gi defied color, its chalk whiteness soaking the sun up through the room¡¯s sole pane. His long hair hung still around him, its length surely but a few months from treading the ground. From his neck hung a talisman, still so similar to a corroded cross.


    ¡°Stubby burglar¡¯s gone an¡¯ trashed the place, ain¡¯t he?¡± asked Sowsmith in blue.


    ¡°Course ¡®e ¡®as ya ball brained fool, who else?¡± returned Giltgrief in green.


    ¡°Do not be so quick to assume, brothers,¡± said the captain. ¡°Fungus, freaks they are, live quite different lives than that of elfkind.¡±


    ¡°C-Course. Yea,¡± added Giltgrief.


    Sowsmith glanced around as if looking for something only his superiors could see.


    ¡°A shroom gone and done this itself?¡±


    ¡°Incredulous?¡± asked Locust. ¡°The prisoner may not appear feral, but their minds all are, I assure you. Now suspend this line of questioning and remember why we have come.¡±


    ¡°Yeah-huh, yeah-huh. The dwarf...¡± came the quaking blue.


    ¡°Sowsmith.¡±


    ¡°Yes brother, sir! Captain.¡±


    ¡°Check the back door.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir, brother, sir. Er--¡±


    ¡°At once!¡±


    Sowsmith dashed across the room in an awkward dance but, nonetheless, succeeded in his crossing and checked the lock. Locked. He announced the discovery to the other elves.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± came Locust. ¡°He has betrayed himself--either the dwarf is out and intends to return... or lies below.¡± With this he glanced at the cellar. ¡°Giltgrief, you will stay above ground and watch for the dwarf¡¯s return.¡± Giltgrief silently saluted. ¡°Sowsmith... you will join me below.¡± Sowsmith nervously saluted. ¡°Very well. Giltgrief... I trust you will be vigilant. Giltgrief smiled a toothy grin.


    ¡°¡®Course, sir. Don¡¯ts have no trouble with me.¡±...


    A clammy silence took hold of the cottage. Two of the three elves had long descended into the basement¡¯s many tunnels and rooms. The third, Giltgrief, had quickly slid unto his rear in their absence and taken up a deep snoring. Being already on the floor and in so deep a trance, the elf did not notice a figure emerge from beneath stacked blankets nor did he realize it dragging himself gradually across the carpet.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    ¡°¡®Uh? Wuzzat...?¡± sputtered Giltgrief. The dwarf remained still. ¡°... Very well...¡±


    On the opposite side of the now sealed cellar, the dwarf shoved the couch back to its position in front, then began stacking anything and everything he could atop, beneath, to the sides, in front, and atop that front, and so forth. Heavy black blocks from the kitchen were dumped, the chairs were situated, dressers were shoved, table upturned, other furniture quickly involved.


    The dwarf fell on his own rear and observed the hastily made barricade. It would have to hold. He knew he had to trust the construction for he could not stay and maintain it in the interest of time, precious his next hours would be. The dwarf thought immediately to return to the steeple--but would could he gain? Having saved before returning to the mossy cottage by morning, fleeing back felt pointless; if he wished to escape, he would throw himself off a cliff and gain a few hours headstart. No, the dwarf knew he really only possessed one action worth doing, and that is why, bag slung over his dwarfen arms, treasure of black and gold and purple secured, the dwarf burst out from the plundered cottage and back within crisp air. He inhaled and, determined, the dwarf dashed out into the forest before the cliffs before the plains before the shining city on the shoreline.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

    Plunging far into the great forest of great trunks and spiraling roots, the dwarf worked his two stubby legs with a special toil born from days beneath the hot sun, then and now regardless of his feelings on the matter. He did not wish to visit the elven city nor did he really desire to be dashing between trees. But feeling left with no choice, the dwarf pressed onwards. After some time spent in the woods his stomach began to complain once more, so he loosened his bag and procured an apple. Before sealing back up the contents he took another close glance at the mangled black, gold, and purple package. As long as the dwarf had this, he felt certain, he could make an appeal. Sucking in another hard breath, he returned to his trot.


    Coming to the ravine, the dwarf barely hesitated; he leapt and dove.


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    Splashing out from the pond arrived in, the dwarf scrambled onto the shore. All around him laid the known destruction of many carts, skulls of all manner of creatures, and gone were any trace he and his kind had done battle just days prior. But the dwarf smiled at the return of a missed tool found beside rubble of his own making. He looped the rusted pickaxe awkwardly through his straps until they practically hung from the bottom--but hung it did nonetheless. Wood handle scraping against the sandy dirt of the ravine floor, the dwarf threw his somewhat dry self at the wall, thoughts intent on none other than up.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 25¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 26¡±


    Though not quite bathed in as much utter black, the dwarf regardless felt, one hand gripping rock above another, he were back in his hole. He felt remiss at even considering the prison escaped as ¡®his¡¯, for one, he wished no ownership and, for two, he had sentenced Doctor Mallow to the prison in his place. But the dwarf sensed something strange about words overheard earlier.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 27¡±


    The elves held a funguay prisoner. Around this time in another life, he had arrived in the elven city and became too imprisoned. But the dwarf shared no cell mate. What could be so different now?


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 28¡±


    They called him ¡®dwarf¡¯, the elves had.


    A terrible realization dawned over the dwarf just as he gripped the lid of the maw and hoisted himself up over the other side, his small frame heaving air, his bruised arms and hands limp, his entire being still half naked, half hair. An absolutely terrible confirmation of several things nearly made the dwarf sick. Doctor Funguay had surely escaped the hole. How? Its lithe build did not support a climb, not like how the dwarf¡¯s body served in the same vein. It had left its axe behind as well. And after escaping, it became sentenced to a new cell--one with actual bars. And it must have squealed about the dwarf¡¯s existence, must have known he would pillage the cottage. But no mere grunts came: Locust himself arrived. He thought about why the captain would investigate a simple house burglary. The multipapered package shifted in the dwarf¡¯s sack as his hand reached around. He took out another apple and lazily chewed while the sky above the ceiling of foliage darkened until showers perforated, softer rain pelting the dwarf. He laid there for some time, tried his hardest to resist dozing off, and fell into his desire--and off the cliff. Jolted awake, his hand shot forward and stopped the descent from any further gain. And hauling himself back over, it amused the dwarf, before he could remember or resume his mission, to gain just enough exp for one more level in ATHLETICS. With a renewed vigor to the chagrin of his exhaustion, the dwarf blasted ahead away from the ravine and towards, as they eventually came into view, massive elven walls before dozens of fungus shaped trees. To the great gate he arrived and, in sight of two stunned guards, collapsed onto the ground...


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    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    A nightmare. The dwarf knew he could not be in The Ponderous¡¯ chamber so soon agaIn. The lighting too had changed since he last entered the tree¡¯s home. Chiseled stone and fine wood still made up the material of the surroundings, but a darkness all too similar to the ravine¡¯s bathed the room black. The dwarf walked toward the great decaying being losing its dominance on the massive room.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    The dwarf stood few steps ahead of The Ponderous Tree, who had managed to twist its bark away from its guest. The dwarf attempted to speak--with every exhale, however, a length of blanket spooled out from the dwarf¡¯s mouth and extended its reach. He tried pulling fervently at it but only revealed more and more of that which he knew to be housed just above where Locust, Sowsmith, and Giltgrief were all hopefully still trapped. But, turning, the three elves entered the dark chamber and were fast approaching. Facing the tree that would not face him, the dwarf faced a wooden Funguayou. It asked him for a light.


    Soaked in sweat, it took a couple moments before the dwarf realized he lay beneath actual blankets--but these were not the doctor¡¯s. There appeared two sets of doors on either side of him--of his bed, he couldn¡¯t believe. They appeared without knobs. In a corner laid a pile of pillows and cushions. The dwarf could be nowhere else but put up within an elven hotel. He sprung out from bed thinking of the bath, a thought with added potency following how sore the dwarf physically realized himself to be. But realizing valuable time had slipped away, he did not think it responsible to waste a minute more. This led him to slide back the entrance to his suite and dash down empty halls until being cutoff by Doetrieve turning a corner.


    ¡°Ahh, yer up. Wuz just grabbin¡¯ ya a biscuit.¡±


    The two returned to the dwarf¡¯s room, of which Doetrieve assured was indeed his--for now. Placing breakfast on the table, he asked the dwarf to eat and remain where he was. Before the dwarf could put to him any questions, the elf slid the door behind him. The dwarf stood for several moments processing his new circumstances. The smell of the newly arrived meal sealed his thoughts further, and he ravaged the tray. Caught in comfort, his hands then suddenly rushed to his back feeling for a bag that was not there, and the dwarf dropped to the floor to search beneath the bed, took to every piece of furniture, upended every piled pillow; the sack of two skewered holes was not found. The bathhouse revealed nothing but temptation, and the dwarf had to firmly slide the door shut before he could allow himself to think upon a warm bath any longer. Turning, he slid from the suite and out into the hall. A guard in red--one of two--shoved the dwarf backwards with great force before slamming the door into place after. In forfeit, the dwarf slumped over to the bathhouse, came up to the tub sealed in polished wood, smoking water twinkling in its haze. He resisted no further and, rewarded, soaked and shut his eyes as soon as inclined...


    ¡°Dwarf. Awake? Hello. Dwarf.¡±


    Awake, the dwarf blinked his tired eyes many times before he recognized Doetrieve calling to him through two sets of doors, and many more before he realized he really hadn¡¯t soaked or napped long. Splashing his lightly pruned body up out from the bathhouse and into the nearest towel, he wrapped his form for the second time now using the same towel as he had the first. Pounding rhythm continued with further calls of the dwarf¡¯s name, but he¡¯d not especially left the clutches of near deep sleep, and so his operating came mechanical at best. Dried off, he pulled a drawer open and checked again for a sizable gi. The dwarf would continue his nudity. This reddened the face still not quite recovered from steaming.


    ¡°Dwarf. Dwarf. Dwarf. Les go, alright. I¡¯ve to barge in?¡±


    Dry, the dwarf drew back the sliding door. Doetrieve gestured his short guest to have a seat and stood near. Somewhat nervously, the dwarf glanced up at the jagged eared, who pulled from behind an open sack and dumped its contents atop the table near: two apples, seeds, plants, nails, hinges, one lockpick, and the flint striker.


    ¡°An interessin¡¯ collection.¡±


    Doetrieve then drew out and pressed onto the table the package of black, gold, and purple, carefully unraveling the tissue to reveal the glittering gems and gold hidden within. Doetrieve¡¯s fingers returned to his sides, and sharp eyes met with the dwarf¡¯s faltering own.


    ¡°Let¡¯s have us a talk.¡±

 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

    ¡°You tell some mighty tall tales, dwarf.¡±


    Doetrieve drew back, leaning against an elven made chair within the dwarf¡¯s suite. The dwarf, seated across, shifted uncomfortably. He reaffirmed his explanation.


    ¡°But such a t¡¯ing don¡¯t make sense. Yer saying the captain came to this fungus boy¡¯s base and leaves payment fer--fer an accusation of really quite some grounds, little guy. And jus¡¯ ¡®ow d¡¯ya know The Ponderous? Ain¡¯t never seen you round here, no elf has, tha¡¯s for certain. But I¡¯ll tell you, dwarf, it scares me yer story lines up with ¡®is itinerary. I ¡®member ¡®im puttin¡¯ me on guard duty ¡®round ¡®is place fer ¡®e ¡®ad somethin¡¯ proper, as ¡®e put it, to attend to outside the settlement. That was strange but Locust¡¯s cappan, ain¡¯t got no interest contestin¡¯ that no more. If ¡®e wants to stroll out in the night, damn ¡®im, ¡®e can. But ¡®im goin¡¯ out yesterday, takin¡¯ Sow an¡¯ Gilt--¡¯e said ¡®e wuz goin¡¯ out to Nasteze. But yer tellin¡¯ me if I go over to this cottage you describe, I¡¯m gonna find the cappan trapped in the cellar? Is that right?¡±


    The dwarf continued to shift in his seat. Having just come out the bath, he dried as best as the given towels could provide--what could not be gotten rid of soaked the seat beneath him. Rising up from his seat suddenly, the dwarf crouched and Doetrieve¡¯s hand half went to his bow, but the elf thought better of it. The dwarf took a cushion from the pile beside the bed and reseated himself across Doetrieve, reiterating once more the truthfulness of his words.


    ¡°But yer not answerin¡¯ what I¡¯m really after, dwarf. Put me straight. ¡®Ow do ya know all this? ¡®Ow do you know our names, e¡¯en the Ponderous--just ¡®oo are you?¡±


    The dwarf shrugged. Doetrieve smiled and shook his head, hair to the shoulder shaking.


    ¡°Well sit tight, dwarf. Ya get to be privy. See, we gots this thing in lockup. ¡®E di¡¯n¡¯t come an¡¯ collapse a¡¯fore¡¯r front lawn like you, mind ya. Naw, we find the freak in the cappan¡¯s quarters. Dunno ¡®ow ¡®e got in fer certain, but we¡¯ve some theories... Anyway, ¡®e apparently confesses to our cappan some terrible crime. Couldn¡¯t get Locust to let on what ¡®fore ¡®e left in the hurry ¡®e did. But ¡®e ¡®as me lock the girl scarin¡¯ beast up in the meantime. Obviously it¡¯s guilty of trespassin¡¯, breakin¡¯ an¡¯ enterin¡¯, sure. But what¡¯s got Locust all stirred? Ah, shouldn¡¯t be pontificatin¡¯ in front of ya, dwarf. But that¡¯s jus¡¯ the thing--the freak warned us of you.¡±


    As the elf ceased his speech, the dwarf realized an opportunity to ask concerning the subject of thing, freak, and beast.


    ¡°Right. Well don¡¯t go round scarin¡¯ folk, cuz ¡®e ain¡¯t feral, I guarantee ya that. But still. Anyway, it¡¯s a funguay. Dunno if ya know, but air¡¯s mushroom zombies ¡®ere to there on the island, so you best be careful outside our walls. Well, sure ya know that already. Anyway, ¡®ere¡¯s what I¡¯m thinkin¡¯. You come with me, huh? Let¡¯s go see that shroom. ¡®E ain¡¯t talked since we put ¡®im ¡®hind bars, but I reckon...¡±


    Doetrieve trailed off, lazily stood, and slid the suite door open. Gesturing towards his guest, the dwarf followed the lieutenant out the hotel and into the early afternoon of another day, thin rays sweeping through foliage above lighting vast sugarcane stalks rising so high along the lake shore, sugarcane houses towering. Elfs in various colored gis--for those that wore them--traveled all throughout the walled settlement, some passing the dwarf and Doetrieve, a few breaking trances to glance at the short, bald oddity stopping through. The two went by several dining halls, the dwarf remembering his soured experience at one and pondering their extravagance. Eventually the two came to a dome of wood, rock, and bamboo all smattered in runes. It wasn¡¯t a wonder the dwarf had overlooked such a cramped building--it blended well with the surrounding bark and other various construction. Doetrieve turned to the bearded below.


    ¡°This place¡¯s a bit odd, ya might say. It¡¯s somewhat a barracks, somewhat a prison, as well as the cappan¡¯s quarters, and...¡±


    The dwarf noticed the elf trail off again. Regaining command of himself, Doetrieve turned and wordlessly traveled through one of two doors, curiosity dangling from the handle of the untraveled. Inside the dome, just as many runes decorated the sloped ceiling, cots and buckets bathed in harsh light. Taking the dwarf down a set of stairs, the two traveled through halls on halls of composition many differing material to at once straight rock, and the dwarf thought it interesting he¡¯d not actually seen the outside of where once imprisoned before. Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice the stopped Doetrieve ahead, bumping carelessly into his robes and raising an arch to elfen eyebrows.


    ¡°You right, dwarf? Gather yerself. Beast¡¯s in ¡®ere. Lessee if we get a rise out of it.¡±


    And sliding the prison entrance back, the dwarf indeed recognized, in a sad cell of cot, bucket, hay, and three glass legged chair, in the corner with its cap lowered, Doctor Mallow.


    ¡°Up an at¡¯em, shroom boy. Ya got a visitor.¡±


    The doctor barely stirred. Without paying attention, the dwarf would have not noticed its sullen eyes lift to scan past translucent bars.


    ¡°WHO DARES TRESPASS INTO CELL OF DISGRACED... Dwarf?¡±


    The two¡¯s gazes locked, and the shriveled funguay sprang as if watered, its multiple grips on glass, its eyes full of fire. It raged.


    ¡°PILFERER... SCOUNDREL! SUCH A LOWLY CREATURE IS OF WHO I WARNED, AND HAD I BEEN HEEDED...¡±


    Doctor Mallow suddenly appeared confused.


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    ¡°Are we to share a cell?¡±


    But Doetrieve shook in the negative, multitude of golden strands along with.


    ¡°¡®E¡¯s a guest. You could say ¡®e¡¯s the star witness.¡±


    ¡°What do you blather about, knife ear?¡±


    ¡°Is ¡®at whaddya think? Then why would ya go an¡¯ do business wit¡¯ one?¡±


    Mallow¡¯s grips loosened, and its long arms went limp.


    ¡°Locust told you...? No... the dwarf?¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s fine fer ya to poison our Ponderous so long as ya get paid, is that it?¡±


    ¡°What--what?¡±


    ¡°Dwarf, I ain¡¯t allowed this--no elf¡¯s s¡¯posed to but the cappan--but I¡¯m off for the Ponderous¡¯ chamber--I¡¯m to see this for myself. You get ¡®im to fess up to a formula that undoes this mess. Break!¡±


    Before the dwarf realized his sudden saddling of a task, the lieutenant dashed out from the prison, taking another flight of stairs down, the dwarf heard. The dwarf considered the multiple varying entrances to the Ponderous Tree. He wondered if a cure could exist at all. He turned to the doctor, it once again clutching the bars.


    ¡°YOU... damned me, dwarf. What did I do to you, dwarf? I¡¯ve not seen your kind in centuries. How am I to reason out this treatment? Attacked in His own house. Despicable. And there is no cure. The elf can choke on the diamonds, what do they matter now? Locust has reneged. A fool to trust a sharp ear for their stab in the back comes extra deep. I thought I was to die in that hole, dwarf. Near blackness I lived in. Near. The rune. You fool. You¡¯ve no idea what was down there, do you? But neither had I. Given the dust, the webs, the lightly tread stone--I might¡¯ve been the first to set foot in such a place in thousands of years. You do not yet follow? And damn your hog, dwarf. Do you squat in my home or His now? And just what are you doing here behind elf walls? Don¡¯t tell me...¡±


    Doctor Mallow grew silent and still.


    ¡°You intercepted the reward, is that it? Answer, dwarf, answer!¡±


    The dwarf vigorously nodded.


    ¡°And brought it here... you brought it here... why would you possibly bring it here? I am damned. I crawl from one hole and lie in another. You¡¯ve sentenced me to two prisons, dwarf. Have you any idea what it¡¯s like to be trapped in a cage like a hog? Like a lowly beast God made for men like you and me. I halfway kid, we know we are neither. But we are, dwarf. And you cannot trust that elf, or any for the matter. I am living such proof. But you owe me, dwarf, do not look away--face me, little bearded bastard. I am here because of you. Release me. No, swallow this sullen look--later. I must plan. I¡¯ve escaped grimmer situations. And you plan as well, if a brain swells in that cold skull God gave you. No, first you must reconnect with your own kind. Down several halls away from this cell are a set of stairs that lead to Locust¡¯s chambers. And beside them is a door. It opens from the inside, but we aren¡¯t that. Locust has the key, I know this much, too. He doesn¡¯t keep it on his person, so naturally there is one another possibility... and a guarded one at that. Greens patrol. Where I ¡®trespassed¡¯. Elfen trash. I knocked. Well, it¡¯s your problem now. Remember, you owe me, dwarf. Find the key. Open the door. And once you understand what¡¯s behind it... then we must think of a plan. Go. Go! Go! GO!--¡±


    Doctor Mallow utilized full use of its hands as those not clutching glass swung about wildly, thrashing in between bars out towards the dwarf. The shorter of the two received a sense of urgency clear. He bolted from the prison and began stumbling through half-remembered halls. He found himself running loops as if he once chasing objectives beneath a mossy roof. But soon the dwarf did arrive to an annex, a sort of underground cavern half modeled, its ceiling in fact near identical to that found within Mallow¡¯s home allowing a view into the elfen village from below, its sunlight leeched without warmth. He became conscious of the views from beneath gis the room offered. The nude that passed after only served to confuse him. The dwarf spied, across the annex, a massive door stretching from tall roof to floor, tile between it and he as well as two guards in green who patrolled in a line, they walking wall to wall and back to each other before beginning again. Many pillars broke up the room--and lines of sight.


    The dwarf reached behind himself and became surprised to tug at his bag, never realizing he¡¯d ever looped its strings round his arms as he followed Doetrieve out his suite. He glanced at the remaining two apples.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 8¡±


    An apple skirted by one pillar and bounced off another. To the dwarf¡¯s delight, one guard noticed even if the other did not. This allowed for the break the burglar needed, feet slapping noiselessly as he made his way from one side of the room to the other.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 9¡±


    The guard who¡¯d noticed the fruit¡¯s intrusion caught the attention of his patrolling partner, and the two studied the thing intensely. They hardly noticed the second object that shot past them. But they did, and the guards were off, and the dwarf snuck into the unguarded quarters, a much smaller entrance to the side of the massive gate, and slid the door shut behind. He was in darkness. He fumbled against the walls for a light switch before catching himself. He bumbled over a table and crushed it under his weight. The dwarf groaned. And suddenly, as if waiting for any excuse to activate, runes in corners of the quarters shot light down spaces in long blasts that further cemented the darkness untouchable, crisscrossed into several dark triangles.


    The dwarf did not find the task of key-finding difficult. In fact, he found too many, and he wasn¡¯t sure which would actually work on the massive gate outside, berating himself for not observing its lock. He found some in fancy wardrobes and dressers, designs so bizarrely unlike that of his home¡¯s farm he found their presence, together with the light, disorienting. It wasn¡¯t until tripping over a black metal box tucked halfway beneath Locust¡¯s unmade bed that the dwarf became certain of the right tool for the job. Before exiting the room, he made a quick scan for another apple or any sort of object alike--he settled on a thick glass orb, really the only found item capable of noise, quarters so oddly barren otherwise. And the dwarf immediately regret its tossing, a horrific shattering spinning both the elves on their heels to face the dwarf in clear view. Baffled, their legs shifted into action and their mouths ran mixtures of threat and surprise. The dwarf shot over to the towering gate, meanwhile, and immediately beheld a small padlock-like object, keyhole obvious. He shot inside what had been discovered within the black box, and the gate creaked open in response. Still charging, the elves encouraged the dwarf to resist loitering and persist forward, and only as he stood in the middle of a strange emerald room of oblong pillars and construction did he understand he had altogether set foot on entirely different design philosophies, and as the elves approached, the dwarf barely, but nonetheless, noticed a humming begin and blue glow from the floor. And all bathed in light. And the dwarf was gone.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

    Skin pulled loose and taut, the dwarf¡¯s flesh turned pools of mercury, its temperatures as hot, its surfaces bubbling and reflective, the dwarf¡¯s consciousness detached and treading water. The dwarf himself could not completely understand the nature of what he underwent, but as was recorded: black enveloped the space beneath and above the dwarf, and all around him was the same. Color flickered in varying levels of opacity revealing worlds of lush spiraling jungles and oceans pulsating in reds and blues and yellows. The dwarf¡¯s skin, meanwhile, stretched like taffy and billowed in directionless wind, and his beard spread across the dwarf like a virus and, to its end, the dwarf became his hair. Flesh separated, the dwarf felt in two worlds. And at once all of him snapped back together, as if a thin string connecting every tissue and cell jerked to bring him firm. Colors and worlds continued to blur in rapid succession until the dwarf collapsed to the ground on both knees, face after. He hit smooth stone, and all fell silent.


    Summoning the resolve to open his eyes, an action seemingly ensnared to great weights, the dwarf beheld a vastness of dark in a massive cavern lit only by runes, glowing stalagmites and -tites, and what little slipped through seams in the earth far above. The dwarf understood himself to kneel in a near identical replica to that which he fled from elfen guards. And on the subject, the dwarf could not spy them anywhere. There seemed to lay no blood, no body, no violence but that which wreaked havoc across the dwarf in what felt to be an era but could not have been any longer than seven minutes.


    Indeed, the replica the dwarf stood up in seemed made of all the same material he had seen next to Captain Locust¡¯s quarters. The open room, for one side did not exist and merely let the dwarf loose upon the cave, was emerald. It glinted like none other. Oblong pillars jutted out in sporadic directions. They resembled the -mites and -tites, the dwarf considered, and some even stretched completely from floor to ceiling--a comical distance shorter than that of the cave¡¯s equivalent. A pale blue settled along the ground. As the dwarf took in the dank atmosphere, he faced an extremely difficult question:


    What had happened?


    The dwarf had spied the concept smattered in ink across pulp fiction poised towards the future. The concept of what the dwarf identified quickly seemed an imaginative mental exercise for a growing farm boy. And now, bald and with beard, he had stood in one place and found himself quickly in another. But the dwarf fell quick to skepticism. Why hadn¡¯t the elfs pursued? Could they? Why not? Waspig fluttered in the dwarf¡¯s mind¡¯s eye, his still racing heart beating for the animals he missed greatly, their care entrusted to a caphead. Was Funguayou really doing his best with Pistol, Bathiel and Cath, Blissey and Mustard, Joshua and Speedy? How could the dwarf even return if he wished to? And he wished to. The dwarf chided and reminded himself in the same breath over the foolishness of becoming involved in elfen affairs and knowing it was either this or herding his animals into the unknown. It was true the dwarf had ¡®SAVING¡¯ as a tactic. But the dwarf did not relish dying and was not going to tempt unforeseen dangers--in this sense, the dwarf really felt he¡¯d been faced with no other choice but to bring the black, gold, and purple to the elfs. And everything would sort itself naturally, the dwarf admitted to himself regretfully, ashamed in his lack of foresight. And now the dwarf, in a sprawling cave of sporadic light, was alone. And he¡¯d no apples.


    It struck the dwarf strange his immediate impulse seemed to be crumpling where he stood and giving into tears--strange because he continued a feeling of disconnect. His body begged to fall and release itself, but the dwarf, in control, piloted automatically forward, careless but curious. Exiting the emerald chamber, the dwarf gazed. He identified all the same things he had a moment ago: the pillars of stone that emanated soft intermittent light, the sun¡¯s efforts through slits in the ceiling, and runes, of course, dotting the mountainous roof. But a few further pulsating marks trailed along the wall to his left rounding dirt. And the dwarf knew he¡¯d follow them--the dirt runes--but he felt indebted to beholding the great sight before him first: three massive sculpted heads of various sported beards grinned and bellowed in perpetuity. Thin blue strips wound around their faces flickering and framing the work of hard masonry, their beings a part of a great chiseled entrance decorated in unbelievable shapes and spirals. The dwarf seemed able to make out English but could pronounce nothing, could not even begin to sound the words out. Streams of water poured from their scalps and past their rock eyes, separating the three in falls to a pool beneath. A shore shot all the way around, and the middle connected the heads to an equally sculpted, decorated bridge. The dwarf become conscious of the feeling of having entered a museum, an activity so rarely performed he surprised himself at the connection. His father had brought him some years after his mother¡¯s death. The exhibits were all themed on rocks. His father didn¡¯t care about rocks, and he couldn¡¯t recall then why he was brought at all. But some lessons remained. The dwarf knew emerald. And he recognized the carvings now in likeness of dwarf. And, the two balanced on the same thought, the dwarf recalled the words of Doctor Mallow.


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    The dwarf understood.


    But resisting the impulse to enter the ruins, for the mass of webs confirmed such, the dwarf turned to follow the corner. Tucked between rock and the green gleaming chamber seemed a pitifully dug tunnel. The dwarf did not crawl in complete dark, the sloping earth around him occasionally giving way to glimpses of runes. Once having escaped the cramped conditions to the other side, the dwarf knelt slow and came to a seat with his rear soon firm on dirt. In this new room a single rune pulsed. It struck the dwarf with so strange a familiarity he could only shrug the sense off as a subtle connection between he and his helplessly assigned race. He looked away and could see nothing else. Curiously, the dwarf heard noise. It was muffled, and the dwarf brought his ear over to the rune to hear it hum if only to confirm his sanity. It was definitely noise but not from what glowed, he concluded. No, It came from above, almost piped straight down, the dwarf theorized. But it was utterly unintelligible, unidentifiable. Regardless, it being something, anything at all but the harsh silence of nothing, pleased the dwarf in a way that relaxed him and his body giving way to sudden rest...


    As daylight¡¯s warmth touched upon the dwarf¡¯s face, his eyes came to adjust to a sight he considered unbelievable.


    The dwarf was, undeniably, back in his hole.


    Grooves of the crumbling walls slid down into the filthy pond coalesced at the bottom, the small widening nearly the same as that which had been made from ceiling collapse to which a newly made dwarf once sought cover beneath--and the warmth of the rune was revealed. The dwarf at once understood how Doctor Mallow could escape the steeple unnoticed, realized how the funguay had come to the elfen settlement. It must be two way, he thought. Going back, would guards on the other side imprison the dwarf, making he and the funguay cellmates proper? The dwarf could not be sure of Doetrieve¡¯s intentions, especially if his own usefulness had been played. And in potentially crossing a boundary--entering the emerald and hurtling his consciousness to a seven minute void--the dwarf would not return to the elfs. Not without gathering his flock and wits first, he concluded. In between his goal, the massive hollowed out spear of rock and earth lay, ascended as it had once been, ventured down atop Waspig as well. Something within the dwarf set fire to a determination that brought his hands against the wall unthinkingly, as if hesitating to psych himself for the second climb would only nurture its strength and danger. In fact, the only thought the dwarf allowed himself was a line of simple logic: he would at least net EXP even if he did not really understand what use or difference it made.


    So coincidental his level would leap from the eve of specifically twenty-nine it was, the dwarf hesitated in the heavy translucent black, several feet off the ground and hundreds more above. More than the thought, the message stalled him. More than EXP, the dwarf read something new.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 30¡±


    ¡°ATHLETICS MILESTONE 1 REACHED¡±


    ¡°ADRENALINE TECHNIQUE APPLIED¡±

 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

    What the dwarf needed least happened fast: rain picked up and poured down the hole. Forced beneath the sloped roof of dripping earth for cover, the dwarf once more considered the possible inevitability of collapse--for this was his hole, and the dwarf lay in similar circumstances not really long ago. But, shivering, he¡¯d not leave the warmth of the bare rune until dried. Teeth chattering, beard wrung, the dwarf curled into a shape often assumed on his parent¡¯s bed. His father was the first to suggest the boy¡¯s growing too old; his mother fell in line soon after. The son had his own, rarely used room for instead he took to the barn with a comfort found in the creatures of his inheritance. Even their terrible smell that easily reached the loft could be tolerated more than the imposing lonesomeness of his bedroom. Despite the obvious stench he read his comics and pulp here. He sought breaks here. Despite his father¡¯s obvious owning of the farm and all it was, the son could not help but often behold the sight of an intruder on his marked appearances. His stink the son feebly tolerated. His suspicious eye and weighted words he suffered. All this and more in the wake of his mother¡¯s disappearance...


    The dwarf shifted, scratching at his hind. A particular noise stirred him from his rest, and he glanced upwards at what meted him water in horror. The dwarf shot his legs out at the dirt beside with a sickening squish and reattempted with the slab just in time to roll out from his puddle and into the still pouring storm. Then came the collapse: roots and rocks tumbled downwards pelting the soaked dwarf attempting desperately to stay ashore. Indeed the water level rose dramatically following both the brought down roof and unrelenting showers. The dwarf¡¯s sense of place completely vanished, unable to distinguish where he¡¯d once laid, the rune drowned, the shoddily dug tunnel began. In fact the dwarf repeatedly shut his eyes and opened them again. He could conclude naught not moisture. He could only feel the torrential downpour. He cursed himself for having not seen to the steeple¡¯s repair. He cursed himself for ever returning the elfen jewels to their settlement. He gripped wet earth in both large hands and smacked his forehead forward in penance, dreadfully, repeatedly.


    The dwarf could not tell if he cried.


    ¡°SWIMMING SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    But he surely did then. The dwarf sobbed into the mound of drenched earth slowly ceding ground to the rising tide. His open mouth warmed the dirt in between protracted cries. He pounded his cartoonish fists against the walls leaving soft dents behind. He could not even hear a single sound from the steeple on account of the constant rain, severing his link to a happier circumstance, he felt. The dwarf felt a bubbling up to the surface within him. He screeched, a shrill noise emitting, blasting upwards off wall bouncing momentum. Even his own ears soon rang, but the dwarf could not cease. A tremor slipped and the volume seemed to decline; the dwarf became overwrought with rage at the weakening and reapplied an inhale to outdo the first effort, only barely discernible above growing, incessant empty noise. Then his voice gave out and the side of the dwarf¡¯s head hit the mound. He¡¯d have attempted to sleep, barely ashore with no sign of ¡®SWIMMING¡¯ exp stopping; the water level rose to his cheeks. Spitting, the dwarf scrambled for anything more to hold. He thrashed in the water of which continued to fill the tube, his cell. He became very weak and very tired. He began to cede to the notion of death and, though he could not remember when last ¡®SAVED¡¯, the dwarf would be happy enough to reunite with his flock. His vision began to blur, and the sight of Waspig, wings rapid, brought a smile to the dwarf¡¯s soaked beard. He thought of Joshua, tuskless, likely alone in its corner, its brilliant white hairs darkened by choice. Came quick the image of Speedy, its slick trail of mud following wherever tread. He couldn¡¯t remember if the adults of its kind were the same. His heart beat for the scars across Pistol and the loss of Chef Girlodee. The dwarf remembered the rest, a haze of wild haired Bathiel and almond eyed Cath smearing his vision. Waspig again came into view, its snout close. It enmeshed itself with a vision of Blissey and Mustard, their inferior sizes of shape and tusk to Waspig known but loved. In a terrible world governed by EXP and relentless in its cruelty delivered towards the dwarf, felt the dwarf, he felt alive in his duty to the flock. He loved his creatures. He loved Waspig, and he believed this appreciation could not surely be measured for, despite the count of his livestock, Waspig itself seemed determined to stay in his mind¡¯s eye. Then the illusion shattered as Waspig¡¯s snout nudged hard into the dwarf, its hot breaths warming his beard, its grunts and noises just audible enough above the continuing rings.


    But the dwarf tired so, slipping further into an abyss of exhaustion. He felt it difficult to distinguish whether reality truly met him and what it asked. But the very real sense of touch as his fingers threaded themselves between Waspig¡¯s wet fur grounded him, a very ironic sense as the water level choked him. Nudging its master and angling its hind, Waspig managed to convince the dwarf to mount and rest. The creature was not massive. Indeed, Pistol dwarfed it, though not through girth. The dwarfs limbs hung awkwardly, his forearms and calves submerged. He realized Waspig¡¯s wings no longer were active; the beast swam in place--in his place. Overcome with gratitude, the tears once more came. But the dwarf could not be sure in the rain¡¯s ceaselessness. As he rose his head out of immense desire to behold his pig in the dark, a clap of thunder and flash of lightning, though partially weakened so far down, granted the dwarf¡¯s wish.


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    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 20¡±...


    Morning was known, the silence of near still waters greeting the dwarf--this and the presence of his most loved Waspig, its treading never having stopped. Indeed, as his cheek pressed into damp fur, his limbs clumsily bounced against occasional whipping of wings. The dwarf figured this measure to have aided Waspig in surviving the night and storm and basked in its intelligence. If there were a way home--if the dwarf were allowed to take but one beast back--his choice would arrive in an instant.


    If there were a way home.


    A touch of sunshine¡¯s warmth on his back, the dwarf¡¯s head rose to fast squint. Indeed the dwarf corrected his suspicion to the afternoon and, his wet hand rising out from the pond towards the wall--high as his stoutness could reach--his eyes gleamed at the satisfaction of dryness.


    The dwarf wrapped himself around Waspig¡¯s head. locking fingers tight, kisses pressed into the spots least wet. An affectionate shot of air returned the gesture. The dwarf then slipped off into the water. He came up to the cylindrical opposition and pressed himself up against, his hands up to dry. When the dwarf decided he¡¯d enough of the tanning, he reached above and grasped what firm earth he could. And with gathered strength, his body came up. He reached again and the process continued. Waspig began flapping itself again to meet the slow rising of its master, its absence of load obvious as if ballasts removed.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 31¡±


    The dwarf remembered the strange sight beheld before the storm: ¡°ADRENALINE TECHNIQUE APPLIED¡±. If it had been, whatever it was, he¡¯d not known its use and owed his survival instead wholly to Waspig. But he did ponder the message, coming up empty. In his distraction he missed a grip and, losing some height, shook the thoughts and regained his focus.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 32¡±


    Waspig¡¯s wings continued their action, its bearer squealing in delight as if in cheer. Indeed the dwarf thought it possible of an ascent on the back of his beast, but he could not consent to it. He remembered the misadventure across the ravine and all that followed, and he could not bear the thought of another. As well he felt a great debt to such loyalty that fueled its treading throughout the night and so he would not add towards. He rose.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 33¡±


    While the ratio of air to liquid in the tube had been set unbalanced by the raging storm the night previous, there still seemed an immense distance yet to cross. Worse, the dwarf eventually fell, sinking deep within the well. Bursting back out from the surface, his eyes met the many of Waspig, once more settling into the water and allowing for the dwarf to mount. And he consented. He was so tired; so grateful. He coped with the thought of it too needing a rest, knowing well it traded one exhaustion for another. The dwarf would hold the elfs to task for treats; Waspig deserved even more. The dwarf, realized he, would not end his role in the ongoing conspiracy with a sick, decaying Ponderous as result. He would not forgive the elfs for all he and his flock had suffered at their hands in this life and some previous. Once more clouded doubts sprang about Doetrieve, the dwarf wondering if he still had an ally; if he ever did. He considered Doctor Mallow¡¯s wisdom:


    ¡°A fool to trust a sharp ear for their stab in the back comes extra deep.¡±


    It was not as if they--the sharp eared--had summoned the downpour, knew well the dwarf. But circumstances in their control led to what his beast was forced to tread. And their captain, their leader, the lunatic the dwarf thought him to be directly threatened this side of the woods. The dwarf did not necessarily want revenge: only peace for he and his creatures. After bringing justice to Locust would the dwarf feel granted rest and recuperation, and only after both could he then tackle the concept of returning home.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 34¡±


    Escaping his thoughts, the dwarf slipped from the hog once more and returned to his struggle upwards. And at touching on revenge, the dwarf did not ignore the flash of the steeple stained in blood, debased and desecrated by its dwelling bandits. Perhaps he did wish for some. He¡¯d revisit the idea another time.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 35¡±


    A distance crossed twice and therefore defeatable, the dwarf forced his muscles into constant operation towards the goal above. Dull pain reverberated throughout his veins, some popped as of recent--many in the process. Dotted in blue and purple, the dwarf continued in a fervor quellable only by death. Muddy, filthy, the dwarf resisted further falls by harnessing a sense of past effort; perhaps this was the implication of levels and EXP, thought the dwarf. And he shook his wandering mind again for he feared its obvious result, and once again the dwarf took to climbing, and still continued the wings of his creature that fluttered beside.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 36¡±


    After a great distance crossed off the backs of near death by drowning and inhuman dedication, as his lungs collapsed and contracted with a struggle this world continued to force upon him, the dwarf¡¯s hands seized the mouth of the hole.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    As the dwarf pulled away from the blank book¡¯s pages winding down, he found himself surrounded by his flock much as he¡¯d been the moment he hoisted himself up into the steeple. And the dwarf fell to his knees and wept once more, embracing his creatures one after another--some, multiple. Even Funguayou he greeted with a light heart. It¡¯d seen to his beasts while away--two days and two nights. Perhaps he¡¯d thought too harshly of the dwarfen funguay, mused the dwarf. He unslung his bag and lit its pipe without it even requesting, to which it expressed great gratitude in between smoke. Meanwhile the dwarf, in producing the striker, realized he¡¯d no idea where his pickaxe had gone. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d even brought it to the emerald chamber. So it must have been still in his suite, he hoped. The dwarf¡¯s thoughts quite ahead, he knew he¡¯d need to return to the dwarfen ruins below and realize some sort of staircase and tunnel connecting it and the steeple. But before even this could happen, the roof demanded more immediate attention. The dwarf was in remiss to know he¡¯d need delay this. The dwarf thought of Doctor Mallow. It rot in its cage--the same fate he¡¯d suffered. He thought of The Ponderous One, its writhing bark no doubt in agony. The Ponderous would continue to suffer in a pained existence known only to Locust and Doetrieve--and what would become of the latter due to such knowledge? All this the dwarf wrestled with as his hands stayed busy off the fur of his flock. Eventually he retired to a pew and bent forward, locking his fingers focused on nothing. He did not notice Funguayou taking a seat beside.


    ¡°Well, none of the hogs were vexed, but my shroom sure got sweatin¡¯ earlier, buddy. Great big storm pours through one hole and a great big shriek shoots up out from the other. Before any of us could react, Waspig dove like a rock. I was worried, yes, that you¡¯d come back and beat me to death for my inaction. To have you come up from the hole... I¡¯m not holding back, dwarf, I know a few things from you and the doctor. Well, I¡¯ve known about the dwarfen relocator. Or, at least, I had a hunch. No one carves runes like dwarfs carve runes, dwarf. But to my word the doctor knew nothing of it until you sent him down that way, likely. I should¡¯ve said something sooner, buddy, I¡¯m sorry. But has there been a dull moment, really? For me, sure, sitting pretty with the boarbugs, the mudkip, and the mosquitos--ceaseless pests. While you, you go, go, go. Always moving. Why don¡¯t you try some of this herb? Now that¡¯s really something I missed: working flint. But hold on, I¡¯m sidetracked. You¡¯ve gone two nights before showing up again. And you came out the hole! Old man down there, was he... you know? Buddy, change my mind, I don¡¯t want to know. And I¡¯m not trying to hold out on you, honest. Listen, the doctor¡¯s been in a shady deal. Recall the elfen captain? Locust set his own tree up, and Mallow helped him do it. That¡¯s right... come again? You already know all this? Enough with the tight lips, then! What¡¯s happened? Where¡¯ve you been?¡±


    The dwarf informed Funguayou of all that had passed since setting out from the steeple two mornings ago to trapping Locust and his henchmen beneath the cottage. As he got this far, the true realization of two full day¡¯s passing washed over the dwarf. A storm and sun had come and gone since clumsily sneaking into the elf¡¯s relocator--since Doetrieve¡¯d made the offer to accompany the dwarf on a house call. Would he be there now? Would they, still? Funguayou, somewhat annoyed at having the explanation suddenly dropped, tugged at the dwarf¡¯s thick arm. But he shrugged the gesture, got up from his chair, made his way over to the barricaded church entrance, and began the dismantling.


    ¡°Hey! Hey! What¡¯s this, you¡¯ve gone rude, dwarf! Where are you to now? You don¡¯t really think Locust¡¯s still in the cellar, do you? What if he¡¯s broken free and awaits you? Who will light my pipe? Dwarf, are you listening?¡±


    But what he recalled, the dwarf only did much later, enroute. For the dwarf, the shift in clarity was so stark he did not realize he ran. Attempting to slow the feet below that blew past earth and trail, instead an overwhelming wave of dysmorphia beset the dwarf. His limbs resisted one order after another, their own minds formed like that within his dwarf gut. Wind rushed into his cheeks. His beard split in two, each half alternating with the other in flailing its master. His eyes squashed to a squint, tears streaming and whipping rivers through the air. Arms keeping pace, fingers balled to fists, the dwarf soon beheld the silhouette of the cottage before the setting sun. Only seconds later he was all the closer, and time truly seemed lost as seconds more the dwarf was just before the door. One massive foot plunging in front of the other, his dwarfen matter rewound the events to clarity. Just before having rearranged the barricade, the dwarf pointedly asked Funguayou about ¡°ADRENALINE TECHNIQUE¡±.


    ¡°What¡¯s that? You¡¯ve gotten to thirty already, have you? In ¡®athletics¡¯? That¡¯s very common--sorry, buddy, not what I meant. You¡¯ve reason to be proud, such a milestone¡¯s a sign of maturity. For most, that¡¯s all it is as well. Obviously you and I know what adrenaline is, but ¡®adrenaline¡¯ isn¡¯t that. Recall the pulp heroes you read of and their abilities, their traits I¡¯ll describe as like a lever. They flip it and beams of light gun from their eyes. You flip it and your body¡¯s gonna work itself into a fervor. And you won¡¯t be able to do it again so soon. And I follow, I follow. You want to the cottage fast, don¡¯t you? Onto the right idea, dwarf. But it¡¯s taxing. Don¡¯t underestimate what most don¡¯t bother with for that very reason. True, you¡¯re dwarf. That makes a difference. But you¡¯re not infallible. Make sense? My throat--dwarf, before you go...¡±


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    Bursting through the cottage¡¯s entrance, the dwarf crashed to the ground in a heap of wood chips and chunks, trash cementing the fall as far less than graceful. Rug burn bit his face bad, and he rolled over groaning in agony. As his lids shut and reopened, a blurred figure came into view, shoulder length hair hovering above.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t sure ¡®ow long you¡¯d keep me waitin¡¯, dwarf. Di¡¯n¡¯t know ¡®ow you¡¯d enter, either, seems.¡±


    Smiling at Doetrieve, the dwarf¡¯s lids drooped in anticipation of sleep. But it did not come. Heart beating wildly, lungs pumping, he could not maintain the face of relief long. Relief, thought the dwarf--Doetrieve really was safety. The dwarf was exhausted but at ease. Still dwelling, the elf in the room continued.


    ¡°Whats this? ¡®Adrenaline¡¯¡¯s clear as day ¡®cross that beard. You look smashed, dwarf. Can¡¯t be yer first, can it? Looks so, I¡¯ll say. You followin¡¯ little fella? Nod.¡±


    The dwarf nod.


    ¡°Right, well, ¡®e¡¯re¡¯s it all laid out. When the boys came a-runnin¡¯ amok frenzied about some stout interloper, well, I thought myself deserted. Figured I¡¯d go on an¡¯ check out the funguay¡¯s place then alone to see if you were givin¡¯ it to me straight. An¡¯ sure enough, found Locust an¡¯ Giltgrief an¡¯ Sowsmith, all three just like ya said. Freed ¡®em, a¡¯course. The captain just about soiled ¡®imself when he first glimpsed me but collected ¡®imself fast enough. Seemed grateful. But yer right, dwarf, there was somethin¡¯ off. Shoved me aside an¡¯ went riflin¡¯ wildly for what I bet were those gems. An¡¯ such¡¯s safe and stowed away, worry you not. ¡®E was certainly sour over it on the way back. Ah, it just slipped my mind. Dwarf, he¡¯s set the fungus to hang. Bright an¡¯ early on the ¡®morrow. Now dwarf, I ain¡¯t normally sheddin¡¯ no tear for the likes of it. But ¡®e might be the only one who can save The Ponderous. Bet Locust knows if he goes, so does that chance. Blessed Ponderous you showed up, dwarf, really. Just about night soon. You catch your breath a second more and we better head on out: we¡¯re breaking that fungus free. Whaddya say?¡±


    The dwarf nod and let the side of his face fall to carpet...


    Wind tickled the thick hairs of the dwarf¡¯s beard--it was as if he¡¯d activated ¡®ADRENALINE¡¯ once again. But the arc felt wrong; his face kept being blown at angles. The motion made him nearly ill--he choked it down and opened his eyes to a vast expanse of stars. The dwarf realized his hands were wound around something--someone: Doetrieve--facing forward. The wind rushed from below as their trajectory fell--he knew the two of them then atop a creature and saddle. Though the all encompassing night covered much in darkness, the stars closest burned themselves the hardest, shadows and light burring into one another across the plains of green traveled. But the color was not that of earth: catching glimpses through holes in foliage, the dwarf pegged his traveling self to be dancing across the great forest¡¯s roof. And the mode of transportation: jumping spider.


    The dwarf hollered.


    ¡°What! What!¡± yelled back Doetrieve, body contorting wildly to control his reins. The dwarf compressed the elf¡¯s organs in abject terror. It was one thing to be mindful of the spider and its aid without visual acknowledgement. It was another to be atop one, and with no clothes no less. The bristles were not especially jagged--rather, the dwarf felt as if he were atop a soft mound of grass. This was a small comfort, but he could face nowhere but his lap to avoid sight of the bending of eight appendages. For the rest of the trip the dwarf kept his jaw locked, the rest left to Doetrieve.


    Many soarings and descents later, the three shot over the tall walls of the elfen settlement and landed in an obscure thicket. It took several pats to his shoulder before the dwarf released Doetrieve, and the latter helped the former off the unsettling ride. Daring a glance, the dwarf forced a comparison between its eyes and that of Waspig in order to keep sane. The elf, having gathered the uncomfortable state of his stout guest, took his hand suddenly and jerked it below a pedipalp. The dwarf¡¯s eyes shot wide and a second hand rushed in time to stifle another scream. Carefully, Doetrieve angled the limp limb so as to let, what the dwarf would later come to learn, the spider smell him. Its multitude of eyes studied the dwarf with a sense of frightening perception. The dwarf resisted losing himself to hyperventilation, breathing deep and low.


    ¡°She¡¯d be flickin¡¯ ¡®airs at you if she di¡¯n¡¯t like ya. Bet the day ever comes she sets eyes on Locust, thas ¡®xactly what she¡¯ll do.¡±


    She, wondered the dwarf, hand released with much anticipation. And as if reading his frazzled mind, Doetrieve answered.


    ¡°Paris. It¡¯s a dusty name. But I keep ¡®er safe.¡±


    The dwarf nodded, came to a slow stop, and stared at the elf as if to communicate: now what?


    ¡°Reckon I¡¯ll hang this saddle up and Paris¡¯ll skip on into ¡®er cave. Morning¡¯s soon--time¡¯s wastin¡¯. Let¡¯s bust a fungus.¡±

 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

    Soon, Doetrieve and the dwarf began cautiously tracing the great elfen wall separating they and the density of the forest. Navigating an assortment of vegetation and a deluge of wet mud, the two eventually came up to the sole mountain of the village; of the forest. Descending the rocky topology, the dwarf stopped in front of a particular side of the earth he waited for Doetrieve by. The elf muttered to himself in disbelief that the dwarf knew of even this, hands waving fast and knowingly, crevice chipping throughout the mountain wall in response to give way to an entrance. The last time the dwarf had come, he discovered Waspig and Bathiel sealed in an orb of glass, Pistol sent off for next breakfast¡¯s main course. This flashed a touch of rage across the dwarf¡¯s face, but he swallowed it. He could not blame Doetrieve for how elfs ate nor for following Locust¡¯s orders, reasoned the dwarf. Additionally, it seemed Doetrieve had turned around this timeline as well, acting completely against his captain¡¯s interests, even harboring a spider as pet, its hideaway confirming they, the elfs, liked their meals out of sight. Having grown up on a farm, the dwarf could not reasonably relate.


    Just before having arrived at the mountain face, the two¡¯d first snuck their way to the traditional elfen glass bars finding nothing. Doetrieve did not volunteer the subterranean arachnid chambers forthcomingly--but the dwarf offered knowledge of another path, and so after Doetrieve became even more convinced the dwarf was not at all what he seemed. Entering then that where swinesects had once been imprisoned, a wretched looking funguay indeed waited for them in cramped, transparent conditions. The dwarf at once leapt toward the console and raised a fist high above.


    ¡°Halt!¡±


    From the shadows, Captain Locust emerged. Several elfs not limited to Sowsmith and Giltgrief aimed steady arrows. The dwarf¡¯s balled hand continued its pause in flight. He considered what pain death by bow would incur and whether he¡¯d prefer it to waiting away nights in a cell before being hanged beside Doctor Mallow--but the dwarf considered, then, the elfs of this ¡®SAVE¡¯ would have no preconceptions of how the dwarf previously escaped. It would destroy his knuckles, but a possibility lay nonetheless. He¡¯d have to chance it, knowing such a plan would be less effective cooped up in Waspig¡¯s previous quarters.


    The dwarf¡¯s fist crashed down onto the console, releasing a panel of glass.


    No arrow loosened. The funguay did not stir. The dwarf¡¯s bludgeoned hand came to rest by his side.


    ¡°Insolent little dwarf,¡± said Locust, waving away the arsenal around him. ¡°You enter much luck with our having multiple facilities. We¡¯ll march the two of you right away to your halfway house,¡± and, turning to Doetrieve, the captain continued: ¡°Shall we march you alongside, traitor?¡±


    Doetrieve smiled. ¡°Ya¡¯ccuse my deliverin¡¯ a war crim¡¯nal to yer doorstep a traitorous act, is that it?¡±


    The captain cleared his throat, adding after some time: ¡°No. I suppose you¡¯re to be commended, lieutenant. Set them up, will you?¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    An elf tossed glass shackles to Doetrieve¡¯s hands. He brushed by the dwarf and dragged Doctor Mallow out from the orb, clamping a handful of hands in each hole. He brought the chains back to the dwarf, an icy glance shared. The dwarf complied limply, and he and the funguay became chained together, arms bound, horrible shrill marble ringing out from glass on glass. Back out from the cavern, dawn arrived. The elfen village¡¯s wilderness became lit in gold, rays melting off the prisoners marching up mud and towards a vine woven path.


    The morning teemed with buzz among those who had awoken in time to share the rising sun with prisoners. Some clothed, some bare--elfs of all sizes gawked and ogled the shambling funguay and dwarf. He, the latter, could not resist submitting to hot embarrassment--it was even worse in nudity. And so he kept his beard low, neck bent until arrival at the cell he¡¯d already known. Shackle undone, two hands gripped his hair and neck and tossed him past bars of glass, beaten shroom next. A variety of strange knobs lined vertically dispensed air in quick hisses before petering out. The captain made the prisoners¡¯ rights known:


    ¡°You have both been declared, as decreed by myself and The Ponderous Tree, criminals of war. Among other charges, you are both accused guilty of conspiracy to destroy The Ponderous, a scheme you have unfortunately nearly succeded in. Neither of you will be tried--no need. A hanging will be arranged posthaste--and our vines will keep. My men will stop at nothing to keep you lawfully imprisoned in the meanwhile. I, Captain Locust, recommend trying nothing lest you wish to make both your debuts bruised.¡±


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    Locust leaving, Doetrieve stood firm facing away from the cell, bow strapped across back, feet pointed away. He glanced at the miserable eyed dwarf. He excused himself from the room and stepped outside. The dwarf sighed and took stock of his familiar circumstances. A dark rectangle, the facilities offered within were: cot, bucket, mass of hay, and a funguay attempting to sit upon a chair of three glass legs. Managing a balance, an ¡°Aah¡± escaped its lips.


    ¡°Spend enough time in a ball and any chair is heaven,¡± it offered. The dwarf nod and fell onto hay rear first. Doctor Mallow continued: ¡°I expected no rescue effort. When hearing of your flee from the village, I thought you long gone. You have my regards even if the act was somewhat pointless.¡± It clapped a multitude of its hands. ¡°A spacious upgrade did follow, so do not look so dour.¡± But the dwarf resisted a change in face. No tears came, but defeat and a strange sense of boredom weighed on his mind. Doetrieve having left the prison, there was no reason for the dwarf not to leap upon the opportunity and begin pummeling concrete. But he could barely will the energy, his legs more than anything shrieking in defiance. They had both turned a shade purpler than the dwarf was accustomed to seeing, and the funguay soon noticed this change as well, observing aloud: ¡°What¡¯s this, ¡®adrenaline¡¯? You do not know your limits? I¡¯ve seen this many times. There are remedies for such discomfort, but you¡¯ll hardly find the right ingredients in a hole like this.¡± It glanced away. ¡°One hole for another, one hole for another...¡±


    The dwarf suffered a unique confliction. A part of him did not wish to really speak with the doctor, actions of the funguay¡¯s unremembered past remembered by he. Funguayou existed either way. But the betrayal suffered underneath a mossy cottage top had embittered the dwarf greatly, and he found it difficult to come to terms with the idea of such an action vanishing, that Funguayou arrived in a different manner, that the dwarf himself could be argued the only aggressor. But the doctor, nonetheless, was partially responsible for the Ponderous¡¯ state. And, apropos, what cure existed for the Ponderous, for one surely must?


    ¡°There is no cure,¡± affirmed the funguay, sinking into its chair awkwardly.


    The dwarf realized in his rush out the church he¡¯d not even asked Funguayou the same. He¡¯d try to remember to if granted another ¡®LOAD¡¯.


    ¡°No, there¡¯s no cure... however,¡± started Doctor Mallow, ¡°There is something between a cure and the poison itself. It could grant the Ponderous his lucidity once more, and rapidly. And then a few more moments and he¡¯ll die. So really, ¡®cure¡¯ is no right term. And as he is now, he¡¯ll exist for much longer.¡±


    What good was existing in its state, questioned the dwarf.


    ¡°The Ponderous is responsible for a great many trees. His death would not go unnoticed. And now Locust is shrewd enough to pawn whole blame onto a man of God and a bearded bastard. Never even met the damned tree... with our removal this entire colony will blindly follow Locust towards any goal so long as he pretends it comes from His incoherent pagan deity.¡±


    The dwarf knew Doetrieve knew this as well. So why had the elf turned? Could it be just cowardice? Did the lieutenant have another plan? And as if reading his thoughts, Doctor Mallow chided: ¡°I warned not to trust the knife eared. The rosy faced one was always going to betray you, just as the long haired stick knew he¡¯d stick myself.¡±


    The funguay put its face in its many palms.


    ¡°I regret it all. I regret ever arriving on this island, ever settling in those ruins, ever seeing you--even if your intent this morning were noble, it was you who still damned me to my fate. And for what, dwarf?¡±


    He, the dwarf, saw little reason to hold back besides lack of energy. So he retold his story in as few words as possible, explaining his rise from the same hole the funguay¡¯d been damned to, detailing the cottage visit in one timeline and contrasting it against the other, revealing even Mallow¡¯s own act of betrayal, omitting only the existence of Funguayou. He spoke of ¡®SAVING¡¯ and ¡®LOADING¡¯ and spiders. The doctor chewed on every word. But before the dwarf could field a response, his lids drooped, and his face fell...


    ¡°Dwarf. Dwarf. Dwarf. Les go, alright.¡±


    The dwarf was jerked up by Doetrieve, Sowsmith attending to Doctor Mallow in fixing its array of hands back to shackles. So too joined the dwarf, and the two of them were wordlessly marched out into the light of the next day, no breakfasts eaten by either prisoner nor meals had the night previous. Once more came gawking, and it intensified in number and effect as the two were made to ascend carved stairs crawling up a massive stump. Bars of glass shot up from smooth rings and offered two looped vines. The dwarf was affixed to one and the funguay the other. During the securing he noticed panels beneath Mallow and himself. Satisfied in their work, Doetrieve and Sowsmith broke and interspersed with the crowd while Captain Locust joined the prisoners to make an address.


    A few words later, and a panel slid back: the funguay dropped, its cap pressing tight against vine, its stalk changing hues fast.


    Then slid the second.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

    Sentenced to execution alongside the doctor, his damning to a hole thrice crawled from concluded, the dwarf¡¯s position on the log gave a near all encompassing view of the elfen settlement¡¯s square. From where a noose of vine tightened around his neck the dwarf observed the prison once escaped before, restaurants dined in and hid beneath, the tip of the hotel behind mushroom-like treetops. Storefronts were understood, though they were all shabby tents. The dwarf tried to guess how long the elfs had settled here. He wondered how the wall came to be, so long running it was, and he questioned the opulence of the suites--especially given the stalks of oak decorated in bamboo homes. He thought about putting all queries to Doetrieve--the dwarf recalled then it was Doetrieve¡¯s relenting that put him in a noose.


    The funguay beside gasped and struggled, the bottom of its cap squeezed into alarming colors. The dwarf¡¯s gaze fixed, he could not reason out conflicting feelings. In the lost past, Mallow took in the dwarf, restoring his health, plotting illegitimate offspring all the while. In his current time, it had released its spores out of sheer animal-like desperation. This same funguay joined Captain Locust in scheming the death of The Ponderous One, though the full extent of its role was unknown. The dwarf recognized the faults of two concerning the death of the tree deity--no matter Mallow¡¯s actions, Locust had certainly spearheaded the operation. It was Captain Locust that first imprisoned the dwarf and later attempted the slaying of. It was Captain Locust that had again sentenced the dwarf to death, and his glowing smile and piercing eyes as he wandered the stump gawking at the funguay disturbed the dwarf greatly.


    All this the dwarf processed--not calmly, veins pumping--before the panel beneath the dwarf¡¯s toes slid back. To drop the stout, whose vines came tied with careful consideration, was the intention, was the full reason behind Captain Locust¡¯s grin growing rapidly.


    Instead, the dwarf burst from the stump, vine taut, soaring in a perfect arc over glass and choking funguay and back into position, half his height lost, before one more arc began and ended in the dwarf¡¯s rear shattering the bars. The motion transpired so quickly, no single elf could react before shards blasted out indiscriminately. Locust received the worst of it, chunks ravaging his face sending him reeling. Mallow, meanwhile, fell, glass crumbling off the top of its cap as the doctor lay collapsed. The dwarf himself ate stump and lost consciousness. His legs purpled...


    On returning to the settlement in chaos, the dwarf rose involuntarily, swimming in air. Skin gripped near the nonexistent scruff of his back propelling him forward. The dwarf¡¯s pain dulled his senses and it was some time before he realized he traveled through wind alongside the doctor. Glancing as best he could, the dwarf gazed upon hair dancing on the shoulders of he who carried. He did not have to look further to know his escort as Lieutenant Doetrieve. The elf zipped around stalls and construction towards the prison, the dwarf second-guessing his intent. But the path taken seemed to lead straight to the locked doors the dwarf knew led to the emerald chamber. He and the funguay were not being taken as prisoners. This calmed and comforted a fast running mind, but another realization spurred the dwarf to shout.


    ¡°Ah! What! What!¡± yelled Doetrieve amidst the chaos unfolding across vine woven streets. Those who had been assaulted by shards were wailing in waves, and those who had been spared were hastily attending to the wounded. Indeed, it seemed as if the execution had been all but forgotten, the event replaced by another. Captain Locust could not be identified among the crowds, the dwarf¡¯s best guess at his still being crippled upon the stump. And while he, the dwarf, did not wish to push their luck, he feared the impending tarnishing of the escape if he did not shout. Gesturing at the peaking hotel, the dwarf made clear his concern for a lost pickaxe. ¡°Can¡¯t be serious,¡± was all Doetrieve could muster. But, head shifting from one direction to the other and back again, the Lieutenant tightened his grip on the dwarf and sped on to the glass walled inn. At its entrance Doetrieve set the dwarf down proper and delivered with a sense of urgency:


    ¡°I¡¯m bringin¡¯ the fungus to the relocator. You just get what you need here and meet me back there pronto. Don¡¯t delay, but don¡¯t ya worry neither--ain¡¯t gonna let it go nowhere till you show up. You¡¯ve got to still get that formula, a cure--anything--ya hear?¡±


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    The dwarf heard. Doetrieve took the doctor into his arms like he was to be wed to it, and the two shot out and away once more to the prison. The dwarf meanwhile headed into the hotel and stomped his legs fast as he could down long stretches of halls and stairs until coming to the suite he guessed his, door sliding back and revealing a rusted copper tool in the corner. The dwarf reunited with his pick, knowing well what use it faced, and exited the room to face a hall of blue and green robed military approaching hastily. His circumstances suddenly bound for the worse, the dwarf chose a step backwards and crumpled to the floor, legs shrieking in agony. It had not been so long since activating his ¡®ADRENALINE¡¯ to rush to the mossy cottage. To use the skill again so soon in such a strange manner cost him dearly, the dwarf near submitting to unbelievable pain. But he crawled his pathetic form forward and brought himself beneath a window, mustering the strength to rise and bring his pickaxe to glass.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    His hands bled as they traveled over the shattered rim, legs and feet next as they clumsily grazed over the sill and out with the rest, the dwarf quick to earth. Groaning, vision blurring, the dwarf let an overwhelming desire to submit wash over. He attempted to rise and fell easily. He tried again and could get no further. He lay splayed on his back after, watching guards point from the shattered opening in the hotel while others rushed down the street. It seemed Captain Locust had regained his senses--or someone present had--and the prisoner was going to be recovered and retied.


    Once more the dwarf sailed through the air, this swim several feet higher than that previous. With no gruff grasping of his backflesh either, the dwarf instead felt the adhesive quality of something extraordinarily sticky. Soaring, jerking, the dwarf suddenly became wrapped in a cocoon of web before witnessing it all unravel before him atop a bamboo roof. Indeed, webs, the dwarf investigated, then meeting the several dozen eyes of Paris. It chittered and rewrapped the stout package, taking it into its appendages, scuttling after across the building and hopping down to the vine lined road, dwarf bouncing. It headed straight for the prison, deftly avoiding arrow and blade alike, though the dwarf¡¯s beard disturbingly caught a taste of the former.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 21¡±


    Gratitude welling up within the dwarf for the actions of the massive arachnid, the dwarf made a promise to himself to somehow repay this debt--if he¡¯d be released from web again. Paris, incapable of conceptualizing debt, carried on undisturbed, blasting through the locked doors and revealing a familiar annex, its half constructed cavern supported by pillars and voyeuristic crest, sunlight taken without warmth. Far on the other side where more doors lay waited Doetrieve and Doctor Mallow. Paris shot another load across the dwarf¡¯s dome nearly fully encasing who would next be twirled and swung across the annex and over enough to be brought to a slide before the Lieutenant. With cheek to hard floor as Doetrieve pulled at the shock absorbent webbing, the dwarf watched the spider exit crushed doors and return to the chaos in the streets.


    ¡°She¡¯s gettin¡¯ really good at that.. Well dwarf, see you got your stick.¡±


    The dwarf hadn¡¯t realized he still had it--gripped firmly in his right palm yet to be uncovered. It had become a part of him unknowingly.


    ¡°Legs lookin¡¯ terrible, stout one. This is,¡± Doetrieve next enunciated with pointed pronunciation, ¡°Doc-ter Meh-low, ain¡¯t it? Sure hope you can fix him up ¡®cause hel needs it. Now listen, dwarf, all ya gotta do is enter that chamber first afore it does, and know the destination in your mind an¡¯ heart, and if the fungus been there, he¡¯ll have to come along. Pick a good place. And get ¡®em to talk some sense about a cure once yer there. Don¡¯t let ¡®em leave ¡®fore ¡®e does!¡±


    The dwarf suddenly recalled the conversation had the night previous behind glass bars. He tried to inform the Lieutenant of the lack of proper cure, but the elf¡¯s mind was elsewhere, sharp eyes focused on the manhandled exit. The dwarf assumed he thought of Paris; he thought then of Waspig. He¡¯d be reunited soon.


    The dwarf sighed, threw his pick forward, and rolled himself atop emerald. Just after, the funguay flew through the air and landed in a heap beside him. A humming began and blue glowed from the floor. All bathed in light, and the two were gone.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

    Skin manipulated into putty, the dwarf¡¯s flesh melted away like candle drippings, its surfaces boiling in a void. All this the dwarf felt intimately and, although he¡¯d been though the process of relocating once before, it did not render the second trip easier. In fact, knowing what lay ahead forced the dwarf to prolong the agony of his own thoughts; own accord, suffering akin to dentistry rides in his father¡¯s paint-peeled truck. But the dwarf did not at first notice the mushroom cap before him billowing and flattening, filling with air, dispensing all to become a great dotted pancake. The stalk beneath lost its rigidity and began elongating, whipping like a snake enraged. The dwarf beheld the desperately stretched noseless face of the funguay, Mallow¡¯s expression non-reflective of its circumstances. The dwarf attempted too to resist the wild changes he underwent but found the unstable process much like skin in dire need of scratching. The dwarf¡¯s blew through the air in a space of nothing but. And at once all of him snapped back together. A swimming view of his surroundings nearly put the dwarf asleep, tired eyelids drooping, weak legs collapsing onto knees. But he shot his palms out to smooth stone and steadied his breathing, just barely avoiding the loss of what little remained in his stomach. All fell silent.


    Summoning the resolve to open his eyes, the dwarf stumbled onto his back in reaction to the close visage of Doctor Mallow. And it advanced forward.


    ¡°Get off the platform, dwarf. I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    The dwarf remained. He glanced around the chamber, emerald glittering even in the vast darkness. Beyond, an occasional rune or shaft of natural light lit various parts of the cavern, and the remembered sculptures of three grinning, laughing dwarfs--his own kind, though he struggled to feel a real relation--celebrated their eternal merriment from afar. Nevertheless he felt humbled by the achievement in masonry, as if the immense dedication to creating such grand statues stood each as testaments to the ability to do so, that he too could achieve something similar. The dwarf gave some thought to his goals. He wanted to go home but still had little idea where to start. He knew The Ponderous One held a semblance of an idea related, but it was muddled, and getting more information while behind Locust¡¯s lines made such a goal not quite immediate. No, the dwarf felt he¡¯d yielded to the new world, that while ultimately he¡¯d wish to be back on a farm far from danger and ¡®EXP¡¯, demands such as shelter and food were unignorable. The dwarf¡¯s especial lack of the latter slowed the movements of his hand that traced along nearly dead blue legs. The words of Doctor Mallow continued:


    ¡°Are we present, dwarf? It is your time to leave now. I need to be on my way.¡±


    Pain of dull poundings tore at the fine muscles of the dwarf¡¯s lower appendages, each leg a dark shade. They¡¯d been pushed badly to arrive at the cottage, and their use in escaping a hanging exacerbated symptoms from bad to excruciating. The dwarf thought he might cry, but nothing shed and nothing was said.


    ¡°Ahem. I appreciate you freeing me of those knife eared jackals. Really. Now come and...¡±


    The funguay¡¯s jaw slowed. It looked over the dwarf¡¯s pathetic legs and folded many of its arms behind itself.


    ¡°Extraordinarily foolish to persist ¡®ADRENALINE¡¯ so aggressively. You¡¯ve done this to yourself. You need rest, and other ingredients, and you can seek such in any corner of this pit you like. But first you must exit the relocator.¡±


    Doctor Mallow gradually drew near, and the dwarf slapped away the first hand that reached out.


    ¡°Insolent little... I am no one¡¯s servant. Do you follow, dwarf? I serve no one. You saved me. Once more, I thank you. But I owe you nothing. I¡¯d like to put all this ugliness behind me and leave this rotten island once and for all. Now, I insist...¡±


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    The dwarf swatted another.


    ¡°Fool! Little bastard! I¡¯ll...¡±


    The doctor¡¯s speech dropped, and it hung awkwardly over the dwarf against emerald for some time. It, the funguay, slinked away and into darkness. For several moments the dwarf braced for some sort of surprise, but the energy required to sustain this was not there, and the dwarf relaxed himself and his thoughts. He wondered if the funguay felt indebted to the unmentioned lieutenant. The dwarf certainly did. And he considered the inevitability of Doetrieve¡¯s execution. Would Locust hold such an event in so immediate a future as he did with the dwarf? It didn¡¯t seem likely. The dwarf noted the different colored gi of the lieutenant and the overall ranking he displayed. It would likely take some time to sort out the sentencing of the officer, the dwarf desperately hoped. The dwarf would need much time to recuperate before another jailbreaking could be considered. After all, wouldn¡¯t the dwarf have to? Would not Locust, after rending the life of Doetrieve, march on to the cottage and beyond in search of his prisoners? It seemed too likely the crazed captain would stop at little to carry out his ordered killings--the blood of his own elf would not be enough.


    Three prongs launched from darkness. The dwarf, eyes bulging, mustered a roll with grunts minimal. From the direction of the assault came Mallow, an unsettling look about it. Bending to retrieve what the dwarf realized to be a candelabra of the church above, it boomed aloud:


    ¡°HERETIC WHO DOOMED FUNGUS WITHOUT CARE... I WILL NOT DIE IN A DARK HOLE BECAUSE OF YOU AGAIN!¡±


    A roar of vibration bounced from the clashing of iron against rusted bronze, pickaxe risen in defiance. As the candelabra drew back, so too did the dwarf let his pick fall. The funguay ventured another sudden attempt but found this too blocked. The doctor could not appear more agitated.


    ¡°LOOK HERE...¡±


    But its voice trailed off.


    ¡°... THERE... is a breed of moss I have identified that, when rendered paste, will make for some immediate relief to the pain you no doubt bear. It will not eliminate it. And you really cannot survive this by any means but passage of time. But I will create this paste and apply it. Then--THEN, will you vacate this damned chamber?¡±


    The dwarf was slow to respond. But he nodded his beard slowly. Some worry did eat at him--could the funguay be creating a poison that may take away his mobility forever? But the thought seemed ridiculous, really, plot far more complicated than waiting out the dwarf¡¯s eventual sleep and dragging him away. And the dwarf tired. But he endured wakefulness, shifting his head side to side, squeezing his fists together and loosening them, attempting anything to keep from sleep. As minutes went on the dwarf lost track of the hours and, though he traveled nowhere, it once more felt as if his skin had gone both loose and taut. It startled the dwarf when Mallow appeared by his legs slathering green across blue. The doctor worked at this for what felt a thorough length, but the dwarf could admit to no great judgment of time. What was noticeable, however, was the pulling back of pain in his legs, the receding of horrible agony in just moments. He could not bring himself to walk, but the dwarf felt he could at least now relax. Just as the physician ordered, he would take his rest.


    Doctor Mallow rapped multitudes of fingers off several folded arms, and the dwarf realized its request and began scooting himself towards rock and away from emerald. Rusty pick dragged, he was very nearly there to crossing, wondering where the funguay would go and whether he¡¯d see it again, when something stirred within the dwarf to turn him around, soon facing an annoyed mushroom.


    ¡°Well? You do not seem to have forgotten your weapon. I will not be making more paste, dwarf. Please. I must get far from here.¡±


    The dwarf could not answer to what spurred him to blurt what he did. Some part of the dwarf hungered in desperation and acted to his best interests, but another thought further and knew he¡¯d not be able to rescue Doetrieve and stop Locust alone. The funguay drew back, eyes wide.


    ¡°... I¡¯ve another son?¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY

    ¡°Where is he?¡±


    The dwarf, situated on the border between emerald chamber and rocky outcropping, pointed up. The funguay which spoke in turn--Doctor Mallow--folded its several arms.


    ¡°Much time has passed since I last raised a son...¡±


    Words fading, the funguay ground at its temples, shutting its eyes thoughtfully. The dwarf, blue legged but in considerably less pain than minutes before, sat, fighting off the growing urge to rest. If he removed himself from the relocator, Mallow would immediately relocate, the dwarf knew. And if he fell asleep, he¡¯d be surely dragged from his place. Alone, the dwarf feared his chances of rescuing Doetrieve and dethroning Locust to be low. Thoughts spilling fast, he blurted to the doctor a need for the recipe for the antidote.


    ¡°Antidote? You have been told there is no such thing, dwarf. Now listen, what I can brew will kill The Ponderous¡¯ parasite, make no question of it. But it will kill him soon after. Some lucidity will be granted--and what will you ask of him, dwarf? Do you know he claims to be a deity? Many of these trees do--the aged, I mean to make certain. They carry great wisdom, but do not let them sway you from His word, dwarf.¡±


    The funguay drew up and crouched next to the stout, blue legged dozer.


    ¡°You cannot inform me of family so fast and think I care for what else. I will see this child you describe. I will concoct the potion you seek. And I will obtain a greater lotion to assist you with. All this I promise on His good book--but I will not spend another sleepless night in this pit. Roll off with your lame self and allow me travel, little one. Do not forget you can go anywhere you like as well. Why stay here?¡±


    Doctor Mallow¡¯s face came inches closer to the dwarf¡¯s. It read his expression well.


    ¡°My God. This cannot be your first... it¡¯s your people¡¯s creation, dwarf. You made this. How can you have visited none other?¡±


    The dwarf, exhausted, shook his beard wordlessly.


    ¡°Pitiful wretch. I see why someone so desperate would act as an animal even within His halls. Perhaps you deserve my pity in the end. Very well. Remove yourself from this chamber and I will acquire something worthier of sleeping on. You have my word I¡¯ll return. You¡¯d like a nice pillow, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    The dwarf would.


    ¡°Scoot, will you?¡±


    The dwarf shifted off the chamber and rolled onto gravel. The chamber bathed quick in light, and Doctor Mallow vanished. Echoes of the traveling reached the great heights of the cavern. All then settled quiet. The dwarf waited an indeterminate amount of time, his vigil in vain...


    No light filtered through the enormous space, bottom occupied by solely dwarf. Indeed he blinked and could spy neither ally nor stalagmite. He searched where he lay and came into contact with nothing but rock. The dwarf¡¯s warm ear tinged with the nostalgia of a barn nook comforter. Comfortable luxuries, barn animals, his father: all were a rift away, the dwarf despaired. What was he even doing involving himself in the affairs of otherworldly humanoids? The dwarf saught only home and safety. Defeating Locust would assure the latter, the dwarf seemed sure. But could it also accomplish the former? What did The Ponderous One truly know? The dwarf recalled its dying words merely suggesting the presence of others like itself. With no further direction to work off of, what choice did the dwarf have now? He considered the city on the shore, gleaming jewel he knew it to be. The dwarf struggled with its name, knowing it¡¯d surely been overheard. Nasteze? He couldn¡¯t be certain. All the dwarf knew true was his loneliness and abandonment. Having shared a cell and stood neck to neck towards death, the dwarf assumed a camaraderie would have blossomed--enough to ensure Locust¡¯s downfall, at least. But none materialized, no pillow could be found, and the dwarf had been tricked. The back of his head hit the ground with a thud as the life in him gave out, glossy eyes towards infinite ceiling.


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    He deserved betrayal, reasoned the dwarf. The actions of an erased past mattered little in the existing present; the dwarf struck first. After, trapped in a hole, the funguay had clawed its way through earth and relocated to find itself sentenced to a death avoided by hairs--whatever grew atop Mallow¡¯s cap. For a fungus of God, pondered the dwarf, it brokered a foul deal with the captain, and he could not reason through the conflictions. It had poisoned a deity--did the doctor not see it this way? Were the gold and gems worth the brain and bark disabling of a higher power? What would Mallow even accomplish with such wealth? Waspig fluttered through the dwarf¡¯s mind atop a sudden gale of wind for all the impact it had on him--the dwarf¡¯s eyes gave way to thin streams. He missed his hog. Waspig would be on the other side and miles upward. And to reconnect, the dwarf¡¯d have to either take the rusted pick into his hands and forge a path through wet mud and packed earth and ascend once more an immense vertical struggle--or kill himself. All considered, the dwarf did not consider having had accomplished much. A redo could help.


    The dwarf¡¯s thoughts wove themselves into the complexities of reversing time, and so his mind became overly preoccupied--enough to distract the dwarf away from a noise noticed but unregistered nor identified. In the cave¡¯s near utter lack of visibility, sole light sources atop rocks and across emerald being runes, the dwarf did not wish to contribute much imagination to conjuring up a threat in the dark. But before long he had no choice, his mind attempting to understand the hollow whistling rumbling from the dark silhouettes of laughing stone. There seemed to be a very human quality to the sound, groans and whines thought to be distinguished. A chain, or what sounded to be a chain, rattled. Terror seized the dwarf¡¯s nerves, and he scurried over to the relocator and hid himself in a crevice between ragged architecture and a green of low saturation. He did not know what compelled him to duck his head out nor did he comprehend any new threat: only darkness. Sweat long since perspired, the dwarf¡¯s adrenaline gave out and sent the dwarf back to slumber...


    A new day¡¯s light made itself known through cracks and crevices. Yawning, the dwarf made a casual movement to rise from his filthy corner of the cavern and fell soon after with a yelp. The state of his still-purple legs had escaped what the dwarf recalled of the night previous, and he lay in the state braced for agony. But, beside the first poundings of vessels in immediate response, the dull pain making up much of the purple¡¯s power ceded to a thin rhythm, complete escape not yet possible. The dwarf grew curious at the steps of recovery taken while asleep, noting the paste Doctor Mallow had applied surely did work, and perhaps the funguay¡¯s role in this misadventure ended there--he decided to be thankful. He could not help also some confusion--had he sleepwalked?


    Regardless, the dwarf was alone. He had no rucksack. He had no pigsect. He¡¯d a pick and an empty stomach. The corner once rounded beckoned the dwarf, crippled he may be. He knew the hole smothered in itself and rain would need be freed if he wished to continue on--or he could kill himself. The thought disturbed the dwarf in how comforting it seemed, like a shield applied to his back in perpetuity--a defense to be relied on. But the consideration of limited lives brought the deadly gesture back down to the unknown--what would really happen next? For the first time in quite some time, he thought of God.


    Was who Mallow worshipped He who the dwarf questioned? He¡¯d wondered this before, the dwarf felt, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. What had only been a matter of days had repeated onto themselves, a strip of calendar collapsing in on itself. How much time had he spent in this other world? He couldn¡¯t know. Had he been watched over by Him? Not likely, the dwarf contested--not after all he¡¯d suffered. Another feeling of d¨¦j¨¤ vu smacked the dwarf following the thought. The dwarf wondered of the trees--not just The Ponderous, but that which damned him to a realm not his own. Did they think of themselves as God? Or did the deities serve? Or rather, were they...


    Deitrees?


    The dwarf blew a mouthful of air, deflating. The corner unrounded loomed. The pickaxe, rust clear on copper, yearned for his grasp. And the dwarf yearned for it. More than anything, he wished to reunite with his flock. He could solve anything, decided the dwarf, if he could simply be with his animals again. The path ahead would require immense upper arm strength--it was a foul sort of luck the dwarf needed test himself. But, God as witness if He observed, the dwarf echoed the funguay¡¯s words--he would not die in this pit either.


    So slowly, the dwarf dragged himself from where he¡¯d lay limply, past runes and the emerald chamber to a weakly dug tunnel visited before. Each forcing forward by way of filthy palms set the dwarf¡¯s teeth into a clench, and having his legs dragged returned unforgotten aches.Towards the darkened back he could make out the wet collapse that filled his way out. The dwarf recalled laying warm next to a rune in the hole moments before the ceiling came down. Now he¡¯d have to dig it all. So, positioned as comfortably as the dwarf could manage (not very at all), he raised his rusted pick and brought the thing down hard.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 8¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 9¡±...


    Exhausted, arms splayed, the dwarf reserved the last of his strength for the last of his hits. The dirt had become damper deeper in--any one strike could release the valve. But the swinging had summoned burst veins aplenty, many adjacent to scars of the same. And, worse, the dwarf hardly concentrated on the task at hand--he could not shake the feeling of being under watch. The dwarf could realistically do little about the hypothetical, his energy swinging, his legs crying. If someone or something wanted the dwarf, the dwarf could escape only by means of the tunnel he meant to release--it was this or staying for a second execution with the elfs. It seemed only when the pick clashed against earth or rock did simultaneously chains reverberate--he was mad, he knew. And, laying still across the ground, pick silent, cave silent, the dwarf concentrated and heard nothing. He thought he may doze in the position, but the sleep he welcomed did not materialize. So the dwarf sat up, and so he continued his work. And on one particular raise of the tool--on one particular swing--a voice surprised the dwarf from behind.


    ¡°Paste helping?¡±


    The earth burst with water.

 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

    Soaked and splayed, the dwarf, dripping, groaned. A few feet beside, Doctor Mallow rose from the muck with clear disgust.


    ¡°I never knew such ill timing could be possible.¡±


    Wiping at itself in vain, the funguay leaned against rock. The dwarf, meanwhile, could not bring himself to move, continuing a lay in filth. The strenuous exercising of his pickaxe had wrought great consequences. At some point he noticed the doctor¡¯s observing of his wounded, pocked arms. It spoke:


    ¡°You¡¯ve certainly been to work. The path to the steeple is open, then?¡±


    The dwarf could hardly process what was asked of him, much less its connection to reality. One moment he¡¯d been freeing the way to his hole and the next he rode a torrential wave of mud to the back of the cavern, joining the rest of his immortalized race. Their great laughing jaws and beards did not accurately convey what the dwarf felt. And he was not really especially proud of having dug the path--it was necessary, like rising in the morning to tend to the animals, like dealing with crops in all the ways they required. In effect, the dwarf¡¯s father could have ordered him to make the tunnel and he¡¯d have done it the same, ended his task feeling no different. Obviously pain coursed through every vein he knew, but the dwarf¡¯s mind reeled in response to several obstacles: his work was incomplete--the hole would need to be crawled into, inspected--would he need dig further?And the matter of ascending after presented difficulties--could Waspig be called upon again? The dwarf considered the thought of lifting any limb, purple or pocked, and recoiled as if he had. What distance could be crossed? Doctor Mallow¡¯s thin frame could shove, but what use was dragging? No, in order to enter his hole yet again, he¡¯d need to put either foot or hand in front of the other, and the dwarf cringed.


    ¡°Are you still with us, dwarf?¡¯


    He was, but the dwarf¡¯s energy waned. He¡¯d spent the last of what he had on the last of the rock and dirt necessary, rewarded with filth and a bed of it as well. He felt a suction beneath his limbs, each constrained to the muck, though he dared not confirm the elasticity of each grip. A cold, burning sensation in the dwarf¡¯s palms scolded their owner. He apologized to himself.


    ¡°Dwarf?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s glazed eyes drifted to meet Mallow¡¯s.


    ¡°You look pathetic,¡± he observed. The dwarf offered no rebuttal. ¡°Were you not content enough with your crippled mobility?¡± it asked. ¡°You should have rested. You¡¯ve only rushed to soak us in mud... There is solution I may be able to find. But you¡¯ll, unfortunately, be waiting in the dark until I return. I¡¯ll try for food as well. And one more thing, dwarf, understand I assist out of curiosity to meet my son. You must still dig the way.¡± And the dwarf watched it evaporate above emerald.


    A full day of mining having had passed, what little offerings the sun made through fissures in the cavern¡¯s walls and ceilings since subsided, and the dwarf lay in darkness. Only the runes, few and far, offered dim reprieve. A stiffness settling into his arms and legs forced the dwarf to wriggle the former free--the latter proved impossible, and the former not without agony. The dwarf felt he tasted the embers of Hell his aching limbs burned without reprieve, no position possible to bestow relief. He shifted his arms fruitlessly, placing his legs around by hand in vain. His mind, meanwhile, hardly detached itself from the nerve endings it persisted in abusing, but the dwarf did dwell on the actions of the doctor. Mallow had returned after all, though no pillow materialized. Whether it¡¯d undergone a change of heart or always intended on keeping its word, the dwarf did not think he¡¯d know. But, if it came back, it intended likely on creating the potion he swore to brew--that which would grant The Ponderous One a brief return to its senses. In truth, the dwarf could not be certain as to what would transpire after administering. The tree would die just as it had in a previous lifetime, though in a more compassionate execution. Before, would advantage would its lucidity bring? Could it stop Locust? Could it save Doetrieve? Was he even alive?


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    The dwarf¡¯s racing mind would undoubtedly have continued were it not for the sudden rattling of chains. Iron scraping and clinking off the same material, shifting echoes escaped the maws of the stone dwarfs, and the dwarf of flesh turned cold. It was only on his return to isolation the cowardly noise had dared return, the dwarf sneered. It hid within the impacts of his pickaxe and the night that blot cracks and crevices, and he thought less of the rattling for it--this was his method of coping with the fact the dwarf was very much afraid.


    Like the mist that emanated from the relocator, a visible haze grew within the cave, vision of blackness only slightly softened. The dwarf felt a distinct drop in the temperature, though his limbs¡¯ having soaked so long gave no favors. His teeth chattered and ground. He wished he was above ground, with or without Waspig--anywhere but the hole. A hole twice escaped, the dwarf¡¯s misery grew at his being seemingly bound. And now it had seen fit to scare him. Insulted, the hole demanded more from the dwarf--he would be forced to part with his sanity. These twisted concepts played evil on the dwarf¡¯s mind and, only wishing for rest, the dwarf groaned at his being unable. Physically, the cries of his limbs had barely relented. Emotionally, the dwarf was distraught--though the cooperation of Doctor Mallow did aid. It was the chains that seeked to dismantle the dwarf mentally. He conjured up what their cause could be, what relation could be had to the mist. Eventually the dwarf did relent. There did not have to be any connection, and the chains did not have to have any direction to them. The relocated funguay had said it itself: this was a ruin. If chains bellowed in abandoned halls, the dwarf would need accept it. It meant nothing.


    A heartbeat slightly lowered, the dwarf cursed at its sudden lurch in response to shrill scrapes. Worse, the chains continued and reverberated in less distance. There could be no doubt: these strange noises behind stone beards were growing. The dwarf refused to accept madness: these sounds were real--loud and very real. The dwarf, paralyzed in pain and fear, wished he were dead--wished he¡¯d never attempted to escape his hanging. His extreme gesture of foolishness had sent him to a terrifying black pit. There was nothing more to gain this life--he¡¯d need to try again. But he could be sure of Doetrieve¡¯s reliability now, at least--this information without doubt. The dwarf was certain he himself would return on death, and if he would not, nothing was preferred to the terror that gripped his stout body. The overlapping noises grew noticeably louder, shrill cacophony of metal at a fever pitch, and the dwarf was in disbelief at being so hopelessly cornered. He thought to weaponize his voice and belt a begging for help from his pet--but he just as well did not wish to alert that wish only drew nearer.


    Frozen, the dwarf swallowed a full lung¡¯s worth of cavern air. It tasted icy.


    A sudden clear face of stretched, decayed skin and exposed bone materialized inches before the dwarf¡¯s. It shrieked. The dwarf hollered. Chains whipped around beneath his beard and seized the throat, the dwarf¡¯s breaths instantly hushed. Rising up from filth, the dwarf sailed across the cave and fell in a pool of muddied water yet to soak into the earth. His arms took on new life, flailing in desperation to surface the dwarf. In fact, it soon dawned on the dwarf he was being held below--his neck chains had tightened around exposed rock. Unable to free himself, his face whipped wildly, cheeks hardly filled. Bubbles began loosening themselves rapidly from the dwarf¡¯s lips, and his already terrible lack of sight only slightly aided by what little runes glowed could not be counted upon whatsoever. Thus, rendered completely submissive to his fate of which he could rely on no sense to make sense of, the dwarf¡¯s body went limp in morbid anticipation.


    Several hands gripped the back of the dwarf from bald to bottom. He rose from the pool nearly his murderer and collapsed onto rocks heaving and gagging water. Eventually falling onto his back, the dwarf faced a partially lit Doctor Mallow.


    ¡°ARE YOU MAD?¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

    Soaked and splayed, the dwarf, dripping, grimaced. A few feet beside, Doctor Mallow aggressively paced.


    ¡°You would escape one execution only to make another out of mud?¡±


    The dwarf shook his head. His slick beard widened to gave way to protests--then came hesitation. Would the funguay flee at first mention of the hideous sight seen only moments ago? Fast his pupils widened scanning the dark cavern in a hurry, hands palming at the nonexistent hold on his neck. The dwarf could make no recognition of the flayed face of rotted skin beheld but once--but the cave was not any less dark. Indeed what few runes pulsed did so as sole beacons--what accosted the dwarf could lurk still anywhere. But Mallow needn¡¯t know it, reasoned the dwarf: if the doctor fled, so too did the chance of the Ponderous¡¯ solution promised yet delivered. His father chided him for his deceitfulness, but the dwarf little wished to be alone again--not with a frightful abomination. The dwarf¡¯s limbs tired tremendously--his arms pounded with ache from the suffered toss. His legs too were not improved by the fall, but the difference in pain before and after becoming a patient of Mallow was incomparable. The dwarf continued to want its care.


    ¡°Where do you look, stout one? I am before you. What?¡±


    The dwarf swallowed hard and shook his head. Doctor Mallow waited some time before speaking:


    ¡°Do not yield to this darkness. You may yet know faith, ye who sin.¡±


    The dwarf, flat on his back, bumped his head into stone, startled. The doctor looked as if it understood.


    ¡°I may forgive you yet, for that is His way. But you will need repent. To set fire to His doors, to attack His people...¡±


    His people, pondered the dwarf. The dwarf thought of this world¡¯s bible--that which unfolded blank keeping him tethered. He wondered of the first death incurred by the hands of Waspig--what would have happened had he not ¡®SAVED¡¯? A chill rushed over the dwarf, but his soaked state did no favors. And what could something so wordless mean to a funguay? He wondered just who He was.


    ¡°... Regardless, I will treat you as I would anyone. But I expect you to beg Him for forgiveness. Your legs are looking fine. Bring those large arms here.¡±


    The dwarf could hardly stretch them, and Mallow took notice of his flinching. Of many hands hung from beneath the doctor¡¯s flared cap, one produced a turquoise vial and rubbed its contents into the dwarf¡¯s skin, much clinging to his hair in rebellion. The process over, the funguay brought himself breaths away from the dwarf.


    ¡°You must heal. You will wait one more night--¡±


    The dwarf shoved himself away using the unleveled ground as leverage, clumsily rolling into a half standing stance, pain jolting with every correction his feet attempted. Teeth clenched beneath immense pressure. The dwarf grabbed for the rusty pick before a gaping Mallow and marched to the small fissure in which water a day before rushed out from.


    ¡°Mad dwarf!¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 12¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    Bursting apart, muddied rock fell in clumps to the wet earth the dwarf stood heaving atop, himself falling forward only inches from a rune once rested by. He jammed two filthy fingers into his mouth and bellowed a whistle. Instruments falling to his sides, the dwarf only then processed what had been just endured, screaming as the veins in his arms--of those not pocks--pumped agony throughout. The dwarf¡¯s voice became hysterical blubbering through the worst horror he could claim physically subjected to yet. The doctor stepped over, eventually, and said something the dwarf could not hear or remember. Eventually the noise quieted into murmurings, and the hole resumed silence. Only by familiarity or careful ears could the soft flappings of Waspig soon be caught, and the dwarf¡¯s tears continued, agony interspersed with joy.


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    Chains rattled. The dwarf¡¯s heart abstained from its beating rhythm, and Doctor Mallow turned away.


    ¡°Was that you, dwarf?¡±


    Waspig finished its descent, toppling over the dwarf and soon wallowing in its master. The dwarf¡¯s teeth pounded into one another once more, a resounding crack blasting outwards, as he thrust his pet into the air to which it stabilized itself by wings. The dwarf lunged and took a fistful of the doctor¡¯s wrists, the doctor soon sailing over onto the pigsect. His great hand rising, the palm soared through the air and straight onto the hind of Waspig, Waspig squealing, shooting upwards with Mallow in tow. The dwarf fell and splashed fully into the hole of his origin--that which he¡¯d once fell through and became dwarf. He groaned and became more a hysterical mess, his insistence on pushing his dwarfen body¡¯s limits summoning dire consequences. He grit a wet rock, the newly made canyon in his teeth radiating pain. And all the while, iron shook and resounded. The dwarf spit the rock and took mud into his mouth like feed from a trough, agonious wailing replaced with muffled whimpers. He kept his face buried, globs of tears dribbling down and between his meal. Hurried thoughts shifted from the horrific chain dragging monster to the flight of Waspig and Doctor Mallow to the rescuing of Lieutenant Doetrieve. He thought of his mother and father. He thought of the farm. He thought nothing at all and waited to overhear no further rattling.


    Soon the distant flapping of his pet grew again. The dwarf hurt, but he smiled, mouthful of dirt making no difference. His rapid breathing slowed, and the dwarf felt at rest. The dwarf would summon another round of impossible strength and seize the belt of Waspig and ride back to his flock, planned the dwarf. The two of them would once again escape the hole so set on being involved in a life unwanted of. But, accusing himself of pessimism, the dwarf did not think he could move. The anxiety rising from this idea stirred the dwarf to squeeze his palms; he could not. The most minute of movements generated such turmoil within the dwarf, the dwarf knew there was no mounting Waspig of his own volition. But perhaps the pet could be convinced to assist the dwarf snout-first, the dwarf wondered. He feared its tusks in the process, but little choice seemed offered. With the wings of his pet soon booming, the dwarf accepted this obstacle could be overcome--he would soon ¡®SAVE¡¯, would rest, would heal, and save Doetrieve; stop Locust. The sound of diffused wind but surely feet above, the dwarf then felt a nuzzling beneath that turned him over. Dirt spit, groaning and grunting the entire way, the dwarf recovered and opened his eyes.


    A face of stretched, decayed skin and exposed bone materialized inches before the dwarf¡¯s. It shrieked. The dwarf hollered. Chains whipped around beneath his beard and seized the throat, the dwarf¡¯s breaths stifled. Floating up from the well, the dwarf shot upwards past a bewildered Waspig, chains taut after. Wind stolen from his pipes, the dwarf fell back to the bottom of the hole and into the portion still submerged. It soon dawned on the dwarf he was being held below, but his limbs could offer nothing in the way of resistance. Here, so close to ¡®SAVING¡¯, the dwarf¡¯s life would be stolen away again--the dwarf would have to once more free the doctor from imprisonment and execution. But Doetrieve would at least still wait for the dwarf within the cottage. Yet, Doetrieve vexed the dwarf. When the lieutenant turned he and Mallow in, was the action opportunistic or planned? Either or, what produced the change in heart that led to he and his arachnid¡¯s assistance? Worse, why did the dwarf ponder all this moments before his death by drowning, by the hands of something so monstrous the dwarf dared not attempt to conjure its memory? Had death become so meaningless, worried the dwarf.


    Jerked and fished out from the pool, the dwarf took some time to process his sudden vertical flight. But before the chains could snap tight again, Waspig whisked in and rescued the dwarf, the grip on his neck dissipating into the rushing wind. Though his senses were nearly disabled, the dwarf easily ascertained how difficult the pigsect worked its muscles--its dedication to its master upset the dwarf¡¯s heart, in remiss over perhaps too gruffly handling it and the doctor earlier. He was not sure how he¡¯d explain his actions to the latter--he only hoped more lotion would be applied to his limbs. Tears dribbled out and onto Waspig¡¯s wet fur, upset he could not stroke his pet to show thanks. Yet through wet eyelids the dwarf did perceive:


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 22¡±...


    Several hands gripped the back of the dwarf from bald to bottom. He rose from the hole of nearly his murderer and collapsed onto tile heaving. Eventually falling onto his back, the dwarf faced his flock in an uproar, a shy looking Funguayou and moonlit Doctor Mallow.


    ¡°ARE YOU MAD?¡± demanded the latter.


    Making no move to answer, the dwarf¡¯s only muscles worked were that which produced a great smile across his beard, his hogsects upon their master with love, his Waspig meanwhile too heaving not too great distance away. The dwarf softened. He would ¡®SAVE¡¯. He would rest, would heal, and save Doetrieve; stop Locust. Doctor Mallow would produce the ¡°cure¡± to revive the Ponderous¡¯ cognitive ability, and the dwarf would receive answers. Though eyes closed, he could see no other way.


    With sudden alarm the dwarf¡¯s flock sprang into defensive positions. Not a moment later and a ghastly apparition rose up out from the hole¡¯s lip and defied gravity before all. Its horrifically gnarled face of rotting flesh and calcium emitted a hair-stiffening wail. And towards the dwarf it lunged.

 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

    Clumps of mud and dirt rained across the interior of the steeple--pews drenched, aisles made slick, congregation of animal and funguay splattered--as the dwarf sailed across the nave. Into what fast became a heap of crushed wood, he could not summon any strength to rise. Ghostly chains tight around his neck snapped then and sent the dwarf on another flight, another volley of filth in his wake. At the center of the chaos levitated a horrific apparition of flayed flesh and exposed bone. It bore no feet--its end trailed into nothing. Night sky near smothered in dark clouds, stars few and far illuminated the chain dangling monster and its tormented prey through stained glass and a great hole in the ceiling.


    ¡°DREAM EATER!¡± identified Doctor Mallow.


    Grip on the dwarf taut, he continued to land with sickening thuds and smashes into various parts of the steeple. The pulpit was obliterated. The stone altar received the dwarf with the wind squeezed from his lungs. Regardless of the circumstances, a message burst from a multitude of pages billowing blank.


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±


    He tried to answer, but the dwarf could not manage a word. Back to the air he went, dream eater cackling wildly. Around it various hogsects stampeded: Pistol, excessively long, blocked suddenly the eater¡¯s line of sight in reference to its stout prey, which smacked against glass and fell behind rubble. At this came the severing of his bonds, and the dwarf sucked breath like water, gulping it down. He could still move no limb, the purple in his legs unchanged, burst veins across his arms aplenty. But he could breathe, and this consoled the stunned dwarf. He could hardly believe what was happening. It was not so long ago the appearance of Waspig drove horror into the dwarf¡¯s heart. But the world the dwarf had seemingly been doomed to offered many terrible surprises. The piercing gaze of the dream eater bore its way into the mind¡¯s eye of the air sucker, and a thin trickle fell from his cheeks.


    Prepared to enter a state of shock, the dwarf held on without attempt. He lay, furniture flying overhead, buzzing wings and frantic funguay cries and bellowing all a maelstrom of noise. Opening his eyes, for he had shut them very tight, the dwarf could not believe the bible¡¯s message continued. Rashly, he agreed.


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    A nasty snarl echoed, and the dream eater appeared through the confirmation¡¯s dissolving. A skeletal grip took the dwarf¡¯s beard, and they ascended high nearly colliding with the roof. The apparition paused. Below, the dwarf watched his flock rise and encircle the two, and Doctor Mallow meanwhile stumbled over a bundle of cracked pews and whipped its multiple hands violently. His focus elsewhere--and perhaps the eater¡¯s--Waspig shot across and bashed into the dwarf, the two quickly falling, the former recovering and seating the limp latter. It had realized something only he just had, realized the dwarf: it knew to block its vision. Emotionally wrought, the dwarf could not help a few more tears.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 23¡±


    The dwarf jerked right off his pet and back into the air, form suddenly upturned, ceiling floor and floor ceiling, bald aimed towards center aisle. With horror the dwarf watched several candelabras shift from the floor and pack themselves into a mighty spike. He could let but one scream loose before plunging to his gruesome death. Punctured, he only saw black.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    A nasty snarl echoed, and the dream eater again appeared before the dwarf, the message soon mist. To the air the two went, and soon they became the eye of his flock¡¯s storm. Bathiel and Cath--wild haired--and Blissey and Mustard--some size less than the rapidly whipping Waspig--all made up the cyclone of fur and antenna. Below encircled across tile mud streaks behind the yapping Speedy, and Joshua--tuskless, white--seemed in anticipation of something. As if informed by the albino itself, the dwarf realized the extend of the weapons at his disposal, and although his limbs could yet function, his throat was freed to fuel the fires of a great whistle. Joshua leapt and the others save wing-less Speedy coalesced quick onto the dwarf, a great pile of fur and tusks and snouts severing once more the cold grip of the dream eater, and the dwarf gently dropped to tile, barricaded by rubble and wild locks.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 23¡±


    ¡°FRET, DEMON!¡± cried the doctor.


    From the steeple floor the dwarf watched an angled funguay work its hands over one of his flock: Blissey. Then came a smack to the hind, and off Blissey shot. The dwarf did not at first dare to observe the eater for fear of further engagement--but wild shrieks spurred his attention; he attempted to move and could not, remembering his predicament. The dwarf did not anticipate the wearing off from his shock with a smile knowing the agony that would follow, and he hoped the doctor had more solution. Watching the funguay still, it took Cath and once more worked its hands, but through this observation the dwarf caught golden pulsing of light and what looked to be Mallow swinging rope. An invisible volley completed, another hind slap shocked the dwarf into half recognition: though the dwarf could not discern what material the funguay worked with, it was clear what ultimately its goal was: wound the eater round the hogs.


    Sweat, or what the dwarf thought he perceived as such, dribbled down the long stalk of the funguay as its arms and legs rushed wildly to cooperate with every available animal. Even Speedy received the doctor. And amid the chaos unfolding, eventually the doctor took the dwarf into its arms and brought him out from his nook to watch the fruits of the funguay¡¯s labor. Above and below two holes appeared still the apparition, but a difference was clear--it floated in resistance. At all angles animals worked their invisible reins keeping the eater locked in motion. Above it dark clouds had given way to a deep blue, and its brilliance glimmered as light came and filled the church through stained glass. The eater vomit and moaned in agony, its form squeezed and bursting, its entire silhouette soon ignited. Before all the eater burned away and perished, its ashes discernible but for a moment. The animals after relaxing, all within the church held still in silent regard.


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    The dwarf fell asleep...


    Excessive licking brought the dwarf to consciousness, his flock nearly all gathered but Joshua. He received the creatures as well as he felt possible, his limbs still of no use but cheeks ready as ever to smile. Waspig lay its entire weight atop. Bathiel and Cath cooperated to unseat the throne and gain it themselves. Pistol, with mighty girth, fell over them to squeals. Blissey and Mustard attempted an overthrowing of the king to no avail, and Joshua was content to walk by and glance at the dwarfs¡¯ parts yet suffocated. Speedy slept beside the dwarf, its drippings seeping between tiles. Taking his eyes off the muddied ground, he looked over what sight was available following Pistol¡¯s willing departure.


    For a church that had stood in ruin, it¡¯s innards preserved themselves remarkably well; this observation made before the ascending of the dream eater. Its destruction clear, the dwarf gazed upon mass heaps of splintered wood, pews to rubble, rows of tiles upended or otherwise damaged, and a pulpit no less obliterated. Of the windows of saturated palettes, only two bore cracks; none gave way. The holes above and below were not any more or less particularly sized, and the altar too seemed untouched. Indeed, the altar, as far as his distant sight could see, escaped a battle it seemingly had not participated in. He wondered of coming up to the bible and attempting another ¡®SAVE¡¯--would even a single page bear decay? Though it seemed possible, the dwarf thought not.


    But fancies were only such, and the dwarf could not move. Powerful dull aches ransacked the dwarf¡¯s form, arms ablaze in unparalleled agony. It was very little relief his legs did not frustrate quite the same way, and he could not use them regardless. His eyes¡¯ dryness only served to illustrate how useless his body had become in that he could satisfy no urge. The dwarf attempted to revel in the consolation of having been reunited with his flock--but none could treat him, he knew. The dwarf was completely at the mercy of the doctor.


    As if summoned, Mallow soon appeared by the dwarf¡¯s side in a stance careful to avoid the mudkip¡¯s excretions.


    ¡°I won¡¯t ask how you are feeling, dwarf, for I am certain it is unwell. It surprises me you live, but your unique stature is molded for taking blows, is what is clear to me. You do fascinate me really, stout one. Elf, fishfolk, humans, yes, I¡¯ve met them all. But you...?¡±


    An awkward hesitation passed slowly, the funguay¡¯s eyes upon blue legs.


    ¡°More medicine has been applied while you rested--yes, to all four. A couple days and you may grab once more at minimal discomfort. But one week surely will pass before your legs will be of any use, and this is in the best of circumstances. You are lame until you are not--be grateful you will rejoin the camp of the latter. Now listen, dwarf, I have met my son. I do not know what he is to you, but call him Funguayou no more, for such a rotten title could only be conjured by what little you contributed. No, he is now Ishmael, as He would wish. Respect this, dwarf, and I will forgive your transgressions; you have scarred my form and once destined me to die. But I did not, and you acted in a manner in which your own destiny could have ended the same. But you must keep repenting. There is more to do. This building must shine again. We must mend it--you will mend it. Of no importance is it the church ever has its people again, only that we repair. He is watching, dwarf.¡±


    The funguay fast withdrew its stalk inches from the dwarf¡¯s face, for over the course of its disposition did it bend and grow close.


    ¡°I know not what plans you possess post-recovery. What a reckless bearded viking does after is of little concern. That is the opinion I once held before an illuminating discussion with Ishmael; you have destroyed my home. Well? Have you not?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes fell to the funguay¡¯s feet. He heard a distinct sigh.


    ¡°I realize you likely intend to return to the elf settlement. You may rescue Lieutenant Doetrieve yet. They have certainly not executed a high ranking officer so swiftly. No, he is not trash like funguay or dwarf, there are processes for him. But when you are there, you must perform an exact rite of penance; you must retrieve the jewels and coins promised to my name.¡±


    The dwarf surprised himself in smacking the back of his head against tile, unaware of neck privileges. He looked at the doctor in disbelief.


    ¡°I cannot force your hand. But I treat you nonetheless. It is a debt you owe me, dwarf, that I really cannot collect on. It is up to your good sense of morals and duty to serve me in this purpose. I must now have the promised reward more than ever, for think of what you¡¯ve done to my home. How could you possibly make good on such evil in any other way? You will already be there. Figure out where my treasure is, and if it¡¯s been subsumed by their horde, take... a sack and fish it through. That will be enough. Say nothing now--only ponder. Your heart knows this to be a good act.¡±


    The dwarf considered the decaying sight of The Ponderous.


    ¡°What of it? Come off it! I performed a task--a royal task, you understand. I am no renegade. I acted in service to Captain Locust. He is no insurrectionist--he is their legal ruler. You should think the wicked tree lucky I did not kill it, overgrown heretic it is--an affront to God,¡± all said with wild animation of its many hands. ¡°I am owed... that reward.¡±


    It turned and faced the cinders of the church¡¯s double doors.


    ¡°Ishmael waits for me at home. I will return here in one day bearing food and more solution. It will take some time to brew the ¡®antidote¡¯, if we will call it such. But you will have it in spite of the supposed condition of my laboratory. You will have my service until you recover. You will know how to act next.¡±


    These ominous exiting words were the last the dwarf would hear spoken for the day well into afternoon. Exiting with the borrowed wheelbarrow, he watched its cap disappear. And once more the dwarf was sieged by the affection of his animals.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 24¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

    A face of stretched, decayed skin and exposed bone materialized inches before the dwarf¡¯s. It shrieked. The dwarf hollered. Gagging, the dwarf¡¯s throat prolapsed and expelled from his beard. Awake to his own shrieking, the dwarf stirred every sleeping creature within the steeple at once. They came to him, and though he regretted ruining their dreams, much appreciation for his flock blossomed, and the dwarf came into comfort. Significantly more stars than the night previous threw themselves about the aisles and rubble, atop dwarf and pigsect alike.


    He hadn¡¯t dreamed in some nights, realized the dwarf. And his first experience since was a nightmare of the eater. He shuddered, for he did not wish to return to a sight he feared awaited him. But the doctor--funguay or not--would likely be frustrated if its patient did not rest. Exhaustion too furthered the point and so, in the embrace of Waspig and Joshua, the dwarf closed his eyes...


    A face of rotted skin and gnarled bone drew cold breath before the dwarf¡¯s. It boiled on his skin. The dwarf screamed himself hoarse butting heads against the apparition; it cackled and attached thousands of chains to thousands of strands of the dwarf¡¯s beard, yanking. Awake once more to his own cries, the dwarf¡¯s temple reverberated among the reorganization of his animals, their rests again disturbed. The dwarf could feel the stinging of eyes that demanded closing and put up an effort to resist. But his thoughts were scrambled and full of contradictions--he could not focus on one area of thought before its melting into another for long. Thus his tired mind fell victim to the dwarf¡¯s third attempt at sleep...


    Pure darkness made up the vision of what the dwarf thought his, but he could not be certain for nothing could be seen. He thought he looked up and may have--it made little difference which direction took focus. The dwarf fell victim to the ducts in his eyes as ever, fear persuading him to his worst predictions involving the horrific appearance of the dream eater though it had yet came to be. In such black the dwarf felt unsure whether comfort could be taken, unwilling to become a victim to surprise. But, vision no better than shut eyes, the dwarf began to consider himself completely helpless. It did then, in fact, scare the dwarf enough to remind him of his own beating heart, when a single stained window emerged with a great offering of light, its cone upon a woman of long scarlet hair.


    The dwarf, past the shock of his regained operating of limbs, forced himself forward. She who he knew to be his mother part her hair and smiled. The dwarf¡¯s guard fell to his advancing feet. It was only as he drew near did he notice glints of light off the silhouette of The Ponderous One behind her. The dwarf gasped as its branches took his mother and wrapped themselves tightly round her neck. Frantic, she stirred until limp. The dwarf crumpled to his knees and wept, and remained in the position until bathed in the golden light of morning.


    ¡°You look a bad sight, buddy.¡±


    The dwarf dared not move, but he couldn¡¯t  in any matter, he knew, even if the dwarf could not see who spoke.


    ¡°Nightmares I¡¯m betting. Gotta tough it out, but you won¡¯t have to alone. I¡¯ll get the old man to tend to you while you nap. Huh? What¡¯s a dream eater? I thought the name gave it all away. Just japing. They¡¯re the dead, dwarf. Sometimes a soul¡¯s at rest, sometimes they aren¡¯t. This one must¡¯ve been starved, though, else it wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve come up here and chanced that hot light. Or maybe it was locked up so long it forgot all about what would go down. Hey, it¡¯s gone now, no danger of that. And dream eaters keep to themselves, so you can be sure there won¡¯t be another down there siphoning off your good sleep. But, well, I can¡¯t speak for what else¡¯s in the ruin. Dwarfen cities can house all sorts of danger; most aren¡¯t protected sites, and some haven¡¯t ever been cleared. I¡¯d suggest you board this one up, but that won¡¯t be stopping any ghost. Dad can conjure some runes down... if we can descend again. Hey, all considered, good to see you again, dwarf. Wasn¡¯t so sure you wouldn¡¯t be reloading a ¡®save¡¯. So, is it true? You¡¯re going back to the elfs? Certainly? I understand the old man wants his money but, dwarf, don¡¯t die over gold and jewels. The doctor¡¯s known many who have--he nearly did.¡±


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    Funguayou kicked its stubby dwarfen feet around, pebbles scattering.


    ¡°Some wreck.¡±


    The dwarf agreed. It made him sorry to have brought so much ruin to the building, Doctor Mallow¡¯s sense of shame imprinted. His own father too seemed to look down in disgust, and the dwarf shook his head for his neck muscles were alone without pain...


    A face of decomposed skin and protruding bone laughed wildly before the dwarf¡¯s. Irresolute, the dwarf slammed his teeth together and tucked his beard between his legs. The skeletal giggling continued and deepened in pitch, soon a wall of noise entirely around him.


    ¡°SHRINK... DEMON... SHRINK!¡± cried Doctor Mallow, above, disembodied.


    The dwarf dared sight. The dream eater had put some feet between it and he. Light emanating from above revealed dust in the darkness. The dwarf steadied his breaths and staggered forward. His limbs were his own, and some swelling of bravery within his chest pushed the dwarf onwards until inches before the ghoulish face he feared. It shot forward and shrieked; the dwarf clasped both hands tight round its neck. The two fell to the beach of dust and were washed upon by seawater. The dwarf did not loosen, and the pulsing eyes from within his victim bulged. Horrifically, then, the apparition¡¯s visage formed the skin and bones of his mother. Neck freed, the dream eater swiped at the dwarf and sent it flying up and out into the sea of which he quickly submerged under. Blackness reigned supreme beneath the waves, and the dwarf could make little out but blurred grains. But golden, filtered light at once guided him to shore, and he heard aloud the voice of Mallow booming:


    ¡°I CANNOT BANISH WHAT IS NOT REAL... YOU MUST BE BRAVE ENOUGH.¡±


    Recovered from spitting up the dark ocean, the dwarf rose and staggered, gently gripping and releasing his palms the while. The woman of blazed red curls boldly returned his stride, entering the dwarf¡¯s immediate reach with a hug. But the dwarf drew back and, his mother insisting, the dwarf stepped against and shoved her backwards. A firing range unfolding at once, the woman¡¯s form exploded to gunpowder, her remains too detonating. Soon before the dwarf an immense fireworks display swallowed the seemingly impenetrable blackness, and he would not have broken his captivation would the warmth of the sun above not encouraged a turn.


    In time to receive a grasp beneath his beard, the dream eater lifted the dwarf high into the black air, and soon sight could not be distinguished from the exploding spectacle of his dead mother. But the sun remained in position. To the dwarf this fact frustrated the eater, and he capitalized on the distraction, clasping a ghostly appendage in his own two, squeezing with the might of eight ¡®MELEE¡¯ levels (a considerable downgrade from a life previous). Nevertheless, the limb went limp, dissipating into ash. A flight followed, and the dwarf crashed into the waters of dust. Emerging, the apparition reached with its remaining hand; the spirit was slapped away. Stunned, the ghost suddenly collapsed beneath the dwarf whose iron tight grip on its neck waned not until his victim violently disintegrated. Then fell the dwarf face first into water. All around him light grew brighter and brighter...


    The dwarf awoke to a day of rain. Gripping air reflexively, the dwarf found the gesture came with minimal ache. No sign of Doctor Mallow could be made, but the dwarf, among his furred creatures of dozens of eyes, observed Funguayou beside. On its rear, it turned its head.


    ¡°Morning, dwarf. He did come by, yes. You slept decent the rest of the night, and I wasn¡¯t sure if you wouldn¡¯t keep doing so with those storm clouds. You should rest more, really. Old man suggests it--I think the same. Well, so you can move those arms again, can you? Great, that¡¯s perfect, see, I¡¯ve a problem.¡±


    From behind cracked boulders Funguayou withdrew a pipe.


    ¡°Got a light?¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

    Trapped in bed with head a skillet, a boy just before teenagehood rested beneath three blankets too many. His dark room lost its cover by the opening of its door, light quick upon planks and squinting child. A figure in the doorway--swaying--tossed an object through the air, nestled then beside the boy¡¯s cheek. He wrestled an arm out from beneath the comforter and turned the cylinder to the light. It was store brand soup, and he thought it bore a fowl mascot but could not be sure.


    ¡°Make it yourself,¡± offered the figure. The door closed.


    Returned to the dark, the boy soon left his bedroom and crept into the kitchen, the journey mysteriously growing warmer, ultimately facing fumes pouring out from the sides of a stovetop pan, father slumped over a plate. The boy rushed over and took the pan by its handle, throwing it in the sink and turning off the heat. He hosed the underside of the blackened kitchenware in cold water, summoning the chagrin of his thought unconscious father:


    ¡°Gonna warp ¡®er that way, son.¡±


    The boy was silent in response, the pan loudly cooling. Meanwhile he hit all the windows and fanned the smoke out, his father lighting his own. Cleared as best thought possible, the kitchen produced another pot and the boy chose a new coil. Carving open the can by hand, the soup began to heat. A stool was drawn close and he hopped atop, his feet high off the ground. They--his feet--kicked back and forth as the boy sneezed into the floor, a line formed between nose and rounded edge of the stool. A shirt sleeve was sacrificed to cleanup.


    ¡°God bless you.¡±


    Cradled in many of Mallow¡¯s hands, the dwarf awoke with a start.


    ¡°I have been consistent in applying this solution to your skin, jungle it is. And the results speak for themselves... behold thine legs, dwarf, for their color nearly returns. You might walk in the coming days. Yes, of course, you will be in some considerable pain for months to come. Dull, persistent aches... chew Tryse if you spy any in your way--if, for they are clever.


    ¡°I pray you have not forgotten your morals; I pray you consider me in your heart, dwarf. I am a funguay of my word--you nearly heal under my care. What I ask for in return is great--but this recovery has been no small feat either. You understand Ishmael will be living with me, so your actions benefit him as well. I am sure you love him dearly.¡±


    The dwarf glanced away sheepishly.


    ¡°In any matter... allow me to ask, you wish to know how we defeated the demon, do you not? Well, be honest! Yes, repent and repair this desecrated place of worship and I will teach you. I will teach you ¡®faith¡¯.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s brow furrowed at the mentioning of ¡®FAITH¡¯.


    ¡°That you ask of is our only means of communication with the heavens. It is a way to tether oneself to this world. It assists in healing and is instrumental in repelling the undead. And what glory it brings a man of Him! A pettier life could look upon my circumstances, could see how thou so gravely treated this funguay. And a prison sentence, an execution... one could have think me damned. But I never thought of it this way. And behold: in our greatest time of need, He bestowed His light.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s head pounded.


    ¡°Yes, renew this church and I will teach you. Ghosts and ghouls will never gain the better of you. And your heart will survive what future perils await you. Yes, but this ruin first...¡±


    Doctor Mallow eased the dwarf back against, surprisingly, a pillow. Atop, the funguay laid blankets and left without another word. Basking in the silence that followed, the dwarf¡¯s limbs relaxed, enjoying their most minimal pain yet. But his head, meanwhile, avoided rest. The commanding tone of the doctor had struck the dwarf strange, his religious memories of a human life coming up against the great glass wall of this world¡¯s concepts. For the dwarf reasonably knew what faith was, but he could not guess at ¡®FAITH¡¯. He also could not quite settle his own connection to the funguay so intertwined with his struggling to survive. In not one but two separate timelines, the funguay nurtured a dwarf who needed it. But surely Mallow acted selfishly in the spawning of Funguayou? Indeed, it was not so long ago to the dwarf¡¯s fresh memory the cornering in the doctor¡¯s laboratory, fiendish villain advancing towards he who grew a mushroom atop his head. His bald head, the dwarf admitted to himself, though the great beard which sprouted from his cheeks did satisfy him. The dwarf resisted no urge to run thick fingers through the tangling.


    But the dwarf gave a great sigh, gratitude never before having been so conflicting. For the dwarf¡¯s control of his hands with the least agony was a development of the day, the one previous unbearable, even if less than the many before. All throughout the week Doctor Mallow had cared for its patient, administering medicine (whenever Funguayou was not sent in its place) and feeding (reluctantly taken) fresh mushroom loaves. Starved, the dwarf put up little resistance--even still, he¡¯d have rather eaten mulch.


    Thoughts drifting, eyelids drooping, the dwarf returned to his rest...


    Alone at the kitchen table, a boy just before teenagehood sighed into soup. Steam rose against the force and escaped sight by the ceiling. Hard stomping was thought heard from above, but the quick settling down convinced him to focus on his food and return swiftly to bed. The sooner he recovered, he reasoned, the quicker he¡¯d be back in the barn. The work wasn¡¯t much looked forward to but his companions very much so. He thought of even the sheepdogs, all who had chosen tonight to sleep in various pockets of the darkness outside. The boy slumped in his chair.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    The soup tasted bad.


    The noise from the second floor continued with heavier vibrations, and all at once plaster and wood fell apart as a bathtub came down with Waspig in bubbles. Out too popped Speedy, its mud inefficient at dilution. The monthly fish truck arrived through the front porch and half of the living room, fireplace and wooden rocker irrecoverable. Out its back poured slabs of ocean life, the amount unending. One shattered the bowl of soup and slid into the hands of the boy who, without thought, tossed it into the bath. Out popped a dancing fish. Waspig and Speedy cheered as animated as animals could, and the boy smiled. Hair blasted out from the sides of his face and he, to his knees, yowled.


    Alone by the rubble, the dwarf blinked several times through the dark. Though it¡¯d seemed a deep rest, he¡¯d yet to escape the night--unless doubled digit hours had gone by since. Very slowly, he brought himself into a strange squat until upright. Into the blackness of the church the dwarf palmed his way to the kitchen, to the pantry touched by Mallow--¡¯resupplied¡¯ a term too encouraging, for what lay before him were countless cuts of mushroom bread. The dwarf opted for an apple.


    Returning to the singed carpet, the dwarf recognized several silhouettes--his flock. He listened to their breaths somehow missed a walk ago, and found contentment. But his good feelings were not to last long, as indeed the shapes developed refinement the closer the dwarf drew near, slow as his movements were, uneasy he grew at a repeated constant. For he then beheld thin stalks and billowing caps...


    A moody afternoon was punctuated by drills led by the dwarf. Though a shambling mess, the dwarf insisted on relishing his refound movement in a productive manner, and so he set about instructing his fungi headed flock the command to stop. Along with another detested resupply of loaf, Funguayou had evidently returned from the cottage with what were dried treats found tucked away by the doctor in one of several stashes throughout the twisted roots beneath its moss. One at a time the dwarf instructed his animals, starting with Waspig. Palm out until falling to the side, the dwarf forged a connection in the porcine mind behind insect eyes before him the meaning of the gesture and what rewarded patience. Delighted in his pride in the animal for its fast instincts, he turned next to Pistol and moved onward to Cath, Blissey, Bathiel, and Mustard. Joshua did not participate in instruction, the dwarf¡¯s attempts falling on willfully deaf ears.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 25¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 26¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 27¡±...


    The dwarf finished with the cap headed Speedy as Funguayou mounted the charred front chapel entrance.


    ¡°Up and about? For how long? I¡¯m not meaning to be a shrill wife to you, buddy, it¡¯s a good sight to see you on your feet. And I¡¯m no stranger to the requests of a light. Old man says the habit has to go, so we¡¯ll keep this between you and me. Well, hello, I¡¯ve more bread--that¡¯ll make you big and strong again, dwarf. What¡¯s wrong? Oh.¡±


    Funguayou rubbed its nonexistent chin with its large inherited limb.


    ¡°Hey, dwarf, I didn¡¯t have a thing to do with this. No, I wasn¡¯t even aware of it. But it follows. We¡¯re both aware of his actions from an unlived time... though I cannot help but be shocked. No, honest, buddy. To this scale--while so disadvantaged as you are? It¡¯s not right. Perhaps he thought you may not come through for him regarding his reward. We shouldn¡¯t be so hasty, dwarf. Think you can handle a walk? Forgive me, I¡¯m out of sorts, you should lie down. I will fetch the doctor.¡±


    The dwarf staggered towards his illegitimate offspring.


    ¡°You¡¯re wanting to walk after all, is that it?¡±


    In one quick scoop, the dwarf brought the fungus off its feet, grip not dissimilar to the vine which once held Mallow. In another fast motion, Funguayou shot out over the remains of the church doors and into a swath of bushes. Daring to eventually pop out, it came up to long planks blockading the entrance.


    ¡°Dwarf, hello? Buddy?¡± it asked, muffled. ¡°What¡¯s this about, won¡¯t you have hurt yourself pushing all that? Come now--oh, but, you should rest first before opening this back up. But you¡¯ll return to your senses, won¡¯t you? I¡¯ll be back tomorrow with the old man. Ok? Buddy?¡±


    It gained no response. The dwarf caught eventually the soft pattering of its feet as it fled, and through the gape in the ceiling clouds above released their torrential burden...


    For three days the dwarf held out, refusing to give into the announcements of either Funguayou--six times--or Doctor Mallow--once. Over the course of these mornings and nights the dwarf reluctantly fed on what remained of the mushroom loaves and gained two more levels in ¡®ANIMAL HUSBANDRY¡¯ following further training. While his flock acted no different, the unfortunate presence of each animal¡¯s stalk frustrated him deeply.  But in the morning of the fourth the dwarf¡¯s waning energy and depleted pantry drove the dwarf to acquiesce. Shoving aside the chopped lumber, he met the small stature of Funguayou.


    ¡°Good morning, dwarf.¡±


    The dwarf took notice of boxes by the front.


    ¡°Dad left those. Food and feed. I brought some apples as well. There¡¯s enough for you and yours to eat now and save for the trip out to the elfs. And...¡±


    Funguayou produced a cowskin rucksack of fine straps.


    ¡°He wants you to have this. And inside is the... yes, right. Well...¡±


    The funguay looked to its feet.


    ¡°Sorry, dwarf.¡±


    The dwarf took the bag from its hands, loading it up with apples and a wrapped loaf, careful to avoid the pouch with contained a tightly corked vial of deep purple liquid. He brushed by Funguayou and pat his creatures individually goodbye. ¡®SAVING¡¯ after, the dwarf wordlessly exited the chapel and began the path to the cottage and the forest and the great walled city of the elfs. Past the moss covered roof, he did not stop to enter any dialogue with the doctor. Into the woods the dwarf went, cowskin on his back, head full of ugly thoughts.

 CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

    By the time night fell upon the boundless roof of the forest, the dwarf had crawled up from the well acquainted divide in the earth. In his gain were a level in ¡®BASE JUMPING¡¯ and five more in ¡®ATHLETICS¡¯. Bathing in the darkness above the fissure, for only the opposite side of the ravine glowed with the thumping and beating of bugs, the dwarf¡¯s arms pounded in similar distant rhythm. Having been pushed along through winding paths alone without the aid of neither hog nor spider, his legs rang. The dwarf had skipped a meal to climb. With heaving chest and aching arms he groaned. But he did not reprimand himself too much, unbuttoning his cowskin bag and letting roll an apple which came and went lavishly; there were no manners atop grass.


    Towards an overarching goal, the dwarf had successfully traveled to the border of elfen land in a single day by his own stout legs. As a boy he¡¯d gone further with longer--but, then, he¡¯d never had to contend with the chasms of this world.


    Sucking the dark air around him, the dwarf set his plan to his wits. Discovering the date of the lieutenant''s execution seemed as large a priority as finding him. How the dwarf planned to do this, he didn¡¯t really know. He¡¯d soon discover the manned perimeter of the elf settlement had greatly expanded, and usable darkness in between lanterns and torches were few and far. As he later circled the area from under fungus and tree, a rustling of several branches in so large a collection of noise startled the dwarf. He was certain he¡¯d just encountered a patrol but remained petrified, exhausted, unable to will a flee. But the still stance rewarded the dwarf, for out from foliage came the chittering Paris, awash in excitement at meeting one known. As the dwarf became swallowed up by nuzzlings of affection, it took immense composure to not break down in fear and hysterics. He reminded himself, the spider was a creature like all others--it deserved a warm welcome. The dwarf produced another apple and fed the spider, drawing his hand after towards pedipalp and another to soft, grass-like hair.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 30¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY MILESTONE 1 REACHED¡±


    ¡°LARGER MOUNTS UNLOCKED¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s wide eyes met with the undisturbed many of Paris. It took some time to digest the milestone, realizing he¡¯d been granted a right or ability to ride the hulking arachnid before him. He only began the first attempt of a climb before realizing a limitation of his stature. So, guiding the spider to a felled mushroom log, he successfully wormed atop the willing creature. Then, as if buttered, the dwarf slid completely off and into bushes. Rising, he gave another attempt and found himself in the same position. Despite having read the message which floated, fixed, and dissipated like any other textual update, he doubted his interpretation of it or, worse, worried Paris could not be counted among ¡®LARGER MOUNTS¡¯ like assumed. But a significant thought bubbled up inside the dwarf: what if he needed the saddle?


    The dwarf pursed his lips. The requirement of the spider¡¯s saddle seemed likeliest. He did not remember the exact thicket where it hung, but the dwarf figured the hideout discoverable with intention--if the elves had not beaten him to it. But he¡¯d need to be within the walls to search, and he found the notion disconcerting, guard positions stretched from one end to the other--there would be no climb. Even with the saddle, Paris would find hopping undetected difficult. But one area did not seem to feature much in the way of patrols: the front gate. On either side of its doors were, the dwarf found sneaking round with spider close behind, two sole guards. Above them torches burned, but no man walked the rampart.


    The dwarf swallowed a dry throat. His fists balled but they did not open. He guided Paris away from the settlement and back some ways to test if the lieutenant''s arachnid companion had been trained. He attempted various commands that fell on lack of ears, though the spider showed understanding--or misunderstanding--recognizably enough. Encouraging Paris to stay put, however, seemed to have some effect, though not outright how the dwarf desired. The way his palm shot out did much to the pigsects but little to the enlarged arachnid, chittering in a manner the dwarf comprehended as amusement.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 31¡±


    But a certain tone in a gruff, quick delivery influenced Paris greatly. Repeating himself as necessary, the dwarf affirmed his desire to have the spider move no further. And finding some success, the dwarf threw himself at repetition--so long as the spider did not otherwise reveal boredom.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 32¡±


    Practice put to test, the dwarf left the arachnid where it waited patiently and he traveled, hands shaking, to the front gate of the elfs. Both sharp eared soldiers on either side of the gate shifted and glanced at one another before the bolder of the two spoke.


    ¡°Wuz you?¡±


    His breath tasted similar to his father¡¯s, thought the dwarf. Before he could answer, the soldier¡¯s opposite chirped.


    ¡°Is that little feller. The one we almost ¡®ung, ¡®member?¡±


    ¡°Nuh.¡±


    ¡°Were you there?¡±


    ¡°¡®Course.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust it.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t no liar.¡±


    ¡°¡®Oo else we hunged, huh?¡±


    ¡°We ¡®ung the lieutenant already? N¡¯one told me!¡±


    ¡°Naw, you fool. Ain¡¯t for four more moons--so y¡¯are a liar.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t no liar.¡±


    The dwarf remained motionless throughout the dialogue in disbelief at the conduct of the guards, relishing in the lack of either¡¯s propriety. Better, he¡¯d learned now the date of Doetrieve¡¯s execution without a word offered. Even if killed, he figured, the dwarf would have that much. And so, deciding to push his luck, the dwarf interrupted the guards¡¯ seemingly endless discussion with mention of a roach coach.


    ¡°¡®Oach coach? Wuzzat?¡±


    ¡°E¡¯s saying e¡¯s a close ally of the lieutenant''s, you twit.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t no twit. An¡¯ I ain¡¯t no liar, neither.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Y¡¯are a fool, ¡®ow¡¯s ¡®at?¡±


    ¡°I am quite wise oo¡¯ll find.¡±


    The guard satisfied in silence at his confident declaration, his more sober companion turned directly to face the dwarf.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let ya in, and the two on ¡®e other side¡¯ll, too. But keep off the streets. Yer on yer own, friend or no friend of Doetrieve.¡±


    The massive gate closing behind the dwarf, he glanced at the two guarding the other side, expressions blank but menacing. The dwarf diverted from the vine woven lit streets of the settlement and began tracing the inner wall. At one point in his trek he began to shed cautiousness, and this clumsy realization chilled the dwarf as he, just concealed by large leaves, was called to by a deep voiced elf. Worse, a glance between green revealed a uniform. The dwarf did consider another usage of Doetrieve¡¯s code phrase--but a feeling deep within him urged reconsideration, for he did not anticipate it working on one so curious as to call to rustling bushes.


    ¡°Come out at once!¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 10¡±


    ¡°I said, I say... come out! Do not make me repeat it!¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 11¡±


    ¡°Dare you refuse my command?¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 12¡±


    After a fifth cry and fourth skill increase, the dwarf realized the soldier had talked himself out of it, a trail of muttering disappearing into the glare of street lights mystical and runed. The dwarf sighed and resumed his search with more care.


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°STEALTH SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    Mountain his reliable guide, the dwarf finally came to the hideout he sought. Already weeds sprang up between planks, though the corner was not much in the way of construction to have begun with. Still it saddened him to see already the first sign of neglect, and he assured himself justice would be brought to Captain Locust. Reminded of the request made of Doctor Mallow, the dwarf considered what exactly he himself thought justice to be. On a practical level, the dwarf did not know where to begin looking for treasure. Morally, his heart knew he must put the request to Doetrieve, and the doctor must be satisfied with that. This and much else the dwarf hoped. All this he weighed after having successfully unhooked the saddle and returned to the imposing gate. Those on their shift informed the dwarf, in sardonic tones, they just nearly switched over with those less sympathetic. Allowed open, the dwarf, wide saddle bunched between arm, wasted no time in exiting the gateway. But as they shut behind, a guard on this side called for the dwarf to halt. He knew the word arrived sober, and it did not sound familiar either.


    ¡°What¡¯s ¡®at saddl¡®bout?¡±


    The dwarf could not be convinced whether the question came threateningly or not. If a simple ask, reasoned the dwarf, why hesitate? More than anything, he did not wish to displease the fresh guard; if a single simple reply could quell whatever menace he assumed, the dwarf would choose it over more repetition. Indeed, just feet away the dwarf had considered the complete opposite in opinion--how deft a blow he took from hiking and fear could not be measured. Though the dwarf did also come to think he would not require searching nearly as long on a second attempt nor would he fear a negative response from the gate¡¯s initial soldiers, if fast enough. His mind having traveled so great a distance, the dwarf¡¯s silence spoke for him.


    ¡°Damn it, beard boy, I ain¡¯t like to repeat myself. I says what¡¯s ¡®at saddle about?¡±


    The dwarf answered in the affirmative of a large chicken.


    ¡°Funny boy.¡±


    The guard lunged forward and snatched the dwarf¡¯s wrist. The dwarf attempted to jerk away; he at once felt a violent jerk from his uniformed assailant before allowed loose, and he perceived a great splattering of white web round the elf¡¯s exposed face, both hands fastened in clear desperate attempt at freeing what could not be. His companion, also free of drink, took the dwarf by both arms from behind and waited patiently as Paris crept from cover.


    ¡°Damned awful, ain¡¯it?¡± asked the hostage taker, helmet ducked. ¡°She killed some good men that day, the one we shoulda ¡®ad you hung right. An¡¯ that fungus fella. Hey, did ¡®oo know it¡¯s dead or alive for you? But the spider--dead.¡±


    As Paris drew nearer, the dwarf commanded it stop. This did work and did trigger the guard to maneuver a hand over beard. But the guard loosened his grab of the dwarf enough in the process to allow him slack, to bash his head back against helmet. The soldier yelped hitting the ground, and his freed hostage bounded for his ride, violently gesturing it further into the forest to buy time for setup. Indeed the dwarf¡¯s frenzied hands grew with greater fervor as the loudness of an alert patrol drew near. But, saddle as set as thought possible, the dwarf mounted Paris and bound themselves for the ravine. As the mushroom stalks from the earth lessened and more did pure green appear, the dwarf reasoned the two very close to the gorge then. But too developed a strange premonition of danger, and it was just as the cliffside loomed close did the dwarf think to jerk parallel, arrows rising up into the air and crashing down on tree, branch, path, and dwarf. Indeed one dug itself into his lower back and the dwarf groaned in great displeasure. Two more went into the spider¡¯s legs, and a third struck with such precision it bore through a joint. Paris winced, slowing noticeably. Even by the point well out of sight of the ravine patrols, the dwarf did not celebrate.


    A pale sunrise could just be observed. The dwarf consoled the injured spider, walked over to the  edge of the infinite blotting and hurled himself over.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±...


    ¡°Wuzzat saddle¡¯bout?¡±


    The dwarf, frozen as he¡¯d been last the question was put to him, did not answer. His silence was ignored by the guard¡¯s opposite, however.


    ¡°Silence, you twit. Let ¡®im go on ¡®is business.¡±


    ¡°What... I wuz jus¡¯ askin¡¯.¡±


    Heart considerably calm, the dwarf made his way to the grove where Paris awaited and found her obedient and delighted. Exchanging affection, the dwarf¡¯s hand came over the joint gravely injured in a previous life. He gulped and felt a wave of nausea despite the lack of wound--something sickened him about his own toothless, contradictory behavior. He tried to steady himself in regards to saving Doetrieve, but the task was yet done--the dwarf had four more nights.


    Onto Paris, the dwarf beget a gentle trot parallel to the ravine with some considerable distance between. Eventually he goaded the creature into mounting bark, and the two surfaced out onto the ever expansive plains of treetop under moon and cloud. Though the dwarf did not really know where to head next given his unfamiliarity, he marveled for a time. Eventually his eyes fell upon what he assumed to be his mountain and, though the cloud aided darkness did not help, the dwarf distinguished a mossy cottage. Towards this beacon the dwarf directed Paris, and it would not be until a brilliant yellow sunrise before they arrived. With no wounds to treat and no real feeling to visit, for the dwarf, upon ¡®LOADING¡¯, faced once more his same shroom headed flock, they continued on. As he and the skittering, borrowed pet traveled the sun lit path to the steeple, the dwarf considered with a fright whether all still bore fungi. The image of what he had once named ¡°Tuskus¡± now in the multiples nearly goaded tears of frustration. He would have squeezed his palms had they not been occupied.


    Drawing close to the door, the dwarf remembered leaving his flock in Funguayou¡¯s hands. Despite the exhaustion of two nights in one, the dwarf gave in to a vengeful, prankster inclination and so directed Paris up bricks and stained glass. Together they mounted the roof and approached the hole, Paris, undirected, forming half a web and beginning its first inch downwards a single thread. Below, the dwarf observed his sleeping animals, all yet disturbed, all still dreadfully cap headed, until his eyes caught the slumped over Funguayou. One careful tarsus at a time, Paris crept towards the funguay peacefully off in slumber.


    Finally within pedipalp distance, the spider began an assessment of Funguayou. Both eyes blinking off rhythm, the latter stopped amid yawn to gape at the many eyes bearing its own reflection and fall wordlessly backwards.

 CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

    Four days remained until Lieutenant Doetrieve¡¯s execution, and the dwarf, atop cold tile, sought rest from a great exhaustion. Having only just recovered from the consequences of ¡®ADRENALINE¡¯ and the dream eater, his legs bore the brunt of his forcing through the forest in a single day¡¯s span. To distract from the pain, the dwarf dwelled on his accomplishments: he¡¯d successfully reunited with Doetrieve¡¯s tamed arachnid with saddle to boot, learned the aforementioned scheduled death, and made positive contact with two guards--their names escaped him, but the dwarf considered their encounter worthy and certainly more positive than that of their replacements. The dwarf rolled over, beard against beast. He¡¯d looked forward to little else than sleep, his exception of energy for Funguayou¡¯s sake tiring him even further. No stalk hid from sight on return to the chapel, and the dwarf then had tasted a particular bitterness. He could not escape it: the dwarf failed them, failed to protect them. The dwarf never realized until far too late his guard could not be let down no matter what had been suffered through together. He was a fool. All this the dwarf contemplated with furrowed, frustrated brow, fists balled, prone to sleep but unable.


    Attempting to focus his thoughts in one banal direction, the dwarf listened for noise. He caught the snorting, nasty snarls of a slumbering Waspig close by, mucus unmistakable. He heard Pistol¡¯s distinct baritone, no doubt a result of its girth. In rhythm Cath and Bathiel snored, and Speedy¡¯s tail whipped mud as it whined. The paws of Joshua, soft and distinct, tread past the dwarf--he was not alone in insomnia, he rejoiced, though sympathy was produced all the same. Wanton wind rushed against glass and, for once, did not penetrate the hole in the ceiling for Paris had sown it shut as best a spider could. Its multiple legs operating together distinguished itself among the usual flock, and he thought about such delicate claws traversing one after the other across singed carpet. Something still frightened the dwarf of Paris but, having grown attached in two timelines, the dwarf considered it an ally. In fact he, among all his aches and pain, found comfort and rest by way of a single thought:


    At least his animals could not betray him...


    The morning did not present itself as usual; light sliced through Paris¡¯ webbing like a grater onto cracked tiles, rubble, and ruin. Sleeping in, the dwarf hazarded his awakening to be mid afternoon. The significance of the ascertaining fell apart in light of discovering the steeple¡¯s underside completely woven in white. From several spots hung large teardrops of web, insides, on further inspection, his flock. One particular hanging pod sunk brown, and the dwarf searched for anything sharp fast. To his surprise and delight, the woodcutting ax retrieved from the hole lay in a corner partially obscured by crushed pews. Though it would have pleased the dwarf to have continued resting and indeed not stressed muscles already so hard worn, the dwarf unearthed the ax and strode forward across shredded red to come face to face with chittering Paris.


    Shifting from the sight of the dwarf, the dozen eyes of the arachnid before him eyed the dull blade with suspicion. It put a tarsus forward and the dwarf bellowed his command to stop. Along with its successful intended effect, his sleeping flock awoke and each began shrilly expressing their dissatisfaction with the circumstances. The dwarf approached the spider and it recoiled, to which the dwarf followed up on, his command issued once more, and the creature ceased. Atop its worn saddle the dwarf made the leap, ax firmly held. He guided the creature to approach its hung prey, himself hacking at the long, thin trees of silk that each held his animals. WIth the aid of the dwarf, Speedy was the first freed and, to his bemusement, he beheld text.


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 33¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    By the end of the chopping, a great pile of silk and string coiled near the chapel entrance, and the dwarf wondered if all could assist in threading new carpet. He rolled off from Paris and fell onto smooth rubbish, quickly embraced Waspig after and the rest of his beloved creatures. He even forgave Paris, scolding it although unconfidently. Remembering the pedipalps, the dwarf properly introduced his flock one by one in an effort to establish the family dynamic, and Paris appeared to understand--the dwarf freely admitted to himself he only wished what was most convenient and conductive to him resting uninterrupted. And so as the sun began to set, declining any notion of a meal, the dwarf returned to sleep...


    Through the night the dwarf peacefully passed, his pains ignored, strange sounds set aside, and he gained a great wealth of energy to expend on the new day. But feeling the need to act the dragon and guard his restfulness like a horde, he decided against spending, and so he continued his hibernation well into the next day and night. Two of the former remaining till the lieutenant''s execution, the dwarf entered the third morning with great satisfaction--until once more he recognized the silk shrouded flock hung around him. The dwarf sighed and took the well used ax into his hands again.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 8¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 9¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 10¡±


    Resigned to not leaving Paris alone with his flock, he took its reigns and the two galloped (as well as a spider could) down the trail, past the cottage, and up atop the great green blanket of the forest roof. By the time he¡¯d finished felling the last of his flock it was once more afternoon and, after cramming down a loaf and some apples, he had packed the rest in his cowskin pouch, thought of Funguayou who had not visited since its scare, and ¡®SAVED¡¯. He rode atop a spider insistent on weaving the dwarf¡¯s creatures into balls of yarn, and he faced the pressing issue of avoiding the lieutenant''s death and feeding The Ponderous One the ¡®antidote¡¯. Could he accomplish the latter first? He was not entirely sure, as was neither Doctor Mallow, what The Ponderous would do after regaining his senses and digesting the truth of Captain Locust. What the doctor did stress was thus: The Ponderous would not live for long after. If the dwarf wasted an opportunity granted by the Ponderous¡¯ regaining of wits, the dwarf might fail to have justice properly legislated. Rescuing Doetrieve was one task: correcting the record pressed urgently. For if the dwarf rescued Doetrieve but could not prove the miscarriage of justice by the arrest nor expose the captain for his conspiracy against the settlement¡¯s interests, what would be accomplished but further angering a hostile neighbor?


    The dwarf, more than any objective, wished for peace. Not necessarily for the elfs--though such would be productive overall. The dwarf wished to be left alone with his animals and the steeple. It was bad enough suffering now the burden of the doctor in such close proximity, but the potential of visits paid by a vengeful, too curious Locust or his agents upset him greatly. The dwarf struggled to confront the idea of returning to his old life and farm and whether the possibility existed and whether he even yearned. To begin, the dwarf needed stability. Having been shoved and thrusted about wildly throughout this new world, the dwarf desperately desired stable ground. He would gladly acquiesce one of the doctor¡¯s commands--he would fix the church. The truth, the dwarf realized, was he thought he would undertake its reconstruction regardless, far before ever asked. Like the bandits of the plain that made that desecrated steeple home, the dwarf too would claim this chapel in his name and recuperate. And he would deal with the terrible offspring soon to be delivered to its ruined floors, he lamented.


    His thoughts a vessel through the waves of leaf and branch, the dwarf sailed to the outer wall of the elfen settlement. Paris chittered, and the dwarf stroked its bristly head.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 34¡±


    Gazing at Paris¡¯ array of eyes, the dwarf considered his strategy. He didn¡¯t want to just rescue Doetrieve--the dwarf vied for complete control of the situation. It wasn¡¯t enough to stop Locust--he would need to strip the captain and his faithful of their arms and humiliate them before the eyes of their peers in their plot against The Ponderous. The dwarf knew this to be no short order, but he felt it possible off a hunch. The wall so densely patrolled, the dwarf brought Paris over to the front gate--their trek disguised by foliage--and the two quickly backtracked following recognition of foul characters. With the option of the front gate gone, the dwarf considered what other possibilities stemmed from the night. An idea hatching, he brought Paris to a shrouded grove and began goading it to produce web. This did not really work. But instead, patiently waiting for the spider to undertake weaving of its own volition was paired with a sharp whistle. The dwarf soon had Paris¡¯ silk production ready by his sounding. Returning to a portion of the wall sculpted into and out the great mountain overlooking all, the dwarf instructed the arachnid to fire its payload against an unlucky, unsuspecting elf patrolling the rampart. Paris wrapping the guard fast before screams could fly, and the dwarf found himself impressed and slightly unsettled in its swift dismantling of an entire humanoid--they hadn¡¯t even killed the guard. Stashed in bushes, the dwarf and Paris seized the created opportunity of darkness and entered the settlement.


    Inside, the dwarf realized he hadn¡¯t yet discovered where Doetrieve was kept, if it mattered at all. Would the lieutenant be receptive to a rescue, pondered the dwarf. Perhaps carrying out justice, considered he, would involve an unwilling participant even on his side. His side, he mentally poked and prodded. Was there any group the dwarf belonged to but he and his flock?


    Where the saddle was unhung and smuggled out, the dwarf and Paris returned, the latter elated to return to its haunting ground. The dwarf scratched what he considered the chin of the beast affectionately, then commanding it stop. His trust left to its obedience, the dwarf snuck from the hideout within the enclosed elfen walls and made his way to the secret entrance within the rocks of the mountain pointed high. It was some time before an elf came by, but when his hands flew, so too did the dwarf.


    ¡°STEALTH INCREASED TO 11¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 9¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

    Sentenced to execution alongside two low ranked guards, Lieutenant Doetrieve¡¯s position on the log gave a wide, misty, familiar view of his settlement¡¯s square. From where a noose of vine tightened around his neck the lieutenant observed a prison recently home. From there to his feet were elfs--many his brothers and sisters and few decorated outsiders; the sentenced killing of a military official was no small thing. And beside him loomed an executioner in dark robes and the freshly scarred Captain Locust, face mangled from glass. A carving replaced the instrument designed to end the lieutenant''s life, vine taught. A handful of elfs either stood before the great log or prowled throughout the crowd. The walls of the settlement were patrolled with no break in routine, and the front gate stood firm beneath the careful gaze of sober soldiers. All held bows. None noticed the shadows emerging from thick haze.


    ¡°Corporal Stu Deertre,¡± announced Locust. ¡°Corporal Rodney Smucker. Aiding a known wanted criminal. Death.¡±


    Panels slid and down went the men gasping and struggling. The spectacle having begun, eyes fell from duty and watched the officers die. The seconds following crucial, known and rehearsed, individual specks off the wide encompassing rampart disappeared in clusters, eventually a presence wiped altogether. The shadows from the mist mounted the walls.


    Long blond hair billowing, satin ribbons fluttering, monochrome gi glistening, Captain Locust gave a delighted address to the audience of elf men and elf women, elf soldiers and elf children:


    ¡°Mason Doetrieve. Treason. Death.¡±


    The third panel sliding, Doetrieve¡¯s eyes shut themselves off from the dozens upon him. But he did not fall. Where his feet shut have gone through, a threaded substance acted as barricade. The men beside the lieutenant also stopped struggling, and were noticeably a considerable height higher than Doetrieve, both affixed to the top of the carving with globs of white. Baffled so long, Doetrieve was among the last to notice the stout figure atop the wall joined by an assembly of shadows far larger. Sun shattering the mist, the nearly hanged lieutenant realized his savior.


    ¡°Fire! By The Ponderous, fire!¡± gasped Locust.


    Many bows rose, but none delivered on their promises. Elfs scattered and screamed. Beard unruly, dome smeared in dirt, arms and legs covered in burst veins aplenty, the dwarf sat atop his mount still. Arrows traveled the air; one buried itself in plaster, another cracked off the tip of a merlon. A third seemed destined for the dwarf¡¯s heart--a sudden stringed emission took it down. As more arrows loosened, so too did white. The dwarf unscathed, he could not help but gaze upon the ravaged face of the captain and smirk. As those who remained in the crowd shrieked in undeniable terror--even the black clad executioner--at such vile arachnids swarming their parapets, Locust¡¯s vision sharpened at the sight of the dwarf, and the realization over his face informed the dwarf a truth: this elf too was afraid.


    ¡°How...¡± began the captain, ¡±How dare you use our livestock against us?¡±


    The dwarf did not shift from his spot atop Paris.


    ¡°How dare you force the innocent to endure their sight?¡±


    The dwarf returned a blank face. Locust continued:


    ¡°Ugly things ought not to be out from their cages and caves. Do elfs deserve to see such vile sights? Look at those hideous eyes, such black, unfeeling eyes, dwarf.¡± The captain strode to the edge of the log, sight locked with the dwarf, confidence returning to his voice. ¡°It is no revelation to my people what they eat. They know what they eat. Must they see it? And you¡¯ve made the flock filthier. No doubt you¡¯ve brought disease upon the witless creatures. What will you do once they die one by one? Will you starve us, dwarf?¡±


    The dwarf slid off from Paris while digging through his cowskin pouch. To the edge of the rampart the dwarf soon stood, a vial of corked purple liquid in his hand. He rose the thing into the air, guessing at whether the captain would recognize what was held. But evidently he did not or did not show it, and the dwarf restored the solution to his bag.


    ¡°Very well, dwarf. They may fall with disease, and you will cure them, is this what you argue? But it will require more than a meager vial to cure a flock, and expenses begin to add--not to mention once those you cannot save die. Well? Is your coin purse deep enough? You¡¯ll front their health or replacement, won¡¯t you, dwarf?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, cappan,¡± spat Doetrieve. The dwarf felt only Locust and himself heard him.


    ¡°What?¡± asked Locust.


    ¡°You ¡®ad no issue usin¡¯ funds for yer own gain. Or was that yer purse?¡± added the lieutenant.


    ¡°What? What?¡±


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Locust drew his blade. Before the weapon could rise, an expulsion from Doetrieve¡¯s arachnid snatched the sword out from Locust¡¯s grip and spat it beyond the walls. Doetrieve, resolve reinforced, shouted then:


    ¡°TRAITOR!¡±


    Locust glanced at the dwarf before returning his gaze to the man with vine tight round his neck.


    ¡°I am no mirror. Men, execute.¡±


    Elfs clad in many colors--predominantly cool--hesitated at their arms.


    ¡°Oo-i did ¡®e call y¡¯a trait¡¯r, sir?¡± came Corporal Smucker.


    ¡°I knew you more than stank of the stuff,¡± chided Corporal Deertre.


    Locust glanced once more at the dwarf incredulously, the dwarf swearing deja vu, before returning his sharp eyes to Smucker.


    ¡°Someone put these oafs down right now and I will award commendations.¡±


    At first silence prevailed. But before long a soldier eager to prove his worth snatched from his quiver and drew an arrow back before white silk ripped the wood from the drawn string and another glued the soldier to a rock. Silence would have resumed if not for the lieutenant:


    ¡°You killed The Ponderous One.¡±


    If no elf heard Doetrieve when he first spoke out against the captain, his words were caught then. Elfs gasped and murmured. Locust scanned the remaining crowd with a crooked grin, wavering.


    ¡°Are you mad, Mason? Killed The Ponderous? Do you see withered life around us? Please, point it out--for all of us!¡±


    ¡°You killed The Ponderous.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done no--¡± started Locust.¡±


    Doetrieve repeated himself. Locust sucked a large breath and cleared his throat. It looked very quickly as if he would continue countering his former lieutenant, but an agape mouth trailed off, staring straight ahead towards the dwarf. The dwarf, so absorbed with the unfolding events, did not pay any special attention to the chittering from behind that grew in concern. It was too late--black gloves went over the dwarf¡¯s beard and seized him with a chokehold. Paris, along with several others of its kind, angrily paced around the sudden black robes. One did chance its payload, striking the hood of the executioner and freeing it to the wind. The dwarf, struggling, barely caught a crestfallen Doetrieve, eyebrows in disbelief. Though none moved but the skittering of spiders, the dwarf distinguished his sullen murmuring.


    ¡°Sow?¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 10¡±


    Employing a loved technique, the dwarf jerked his head back and bludgeoned Sowsmith¡¯s nose. Distance made, Paris seized Sow¡¯s legs, toppling him over the inner wall and onto outside guards. The dwarf bound for the lieutenant¡¯s arachnid and mounted himself atop it again.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 34¡±


    ¡°So,¡± began the captain, ¡°I command a weak army incapable of following my command. And the elfs our guests, have you seen enough of this spectacle? Won¡¯t you leave this pathetic place be?¡±


    A frail figure began passing through what little crowd remained. His robe--black, gold, and purple--vanished and reappeared with every graceful movement, the sun too attire. Although an occasional step went limp, and the elf--possessing little hair left--faltered. To the dwarf, the settlement held still for these moments, spread they were. But the old elf recovered from his missteps and, eventually, finished his journey beside the log at roughly half the height of Locust.


    ¡°Things are worse here than could be imagined,¡± admitted the elder. ¡°Please explain the meaning behind these events. Who is the little one? Why have you yet ordered those spiders dead? And be clear with me, Locust,¡± said with a cold enough look to suit his words. ¡°Are there any grounds for the ravings of this former lieutenant? Does The Ponderous One live?¡±


    Even the dwarf could hear the captain swallow.


    ¡°As to your second query, Lord,¡± started Locust.


    ¡°Answer the first.¡±


    ¡°Very well, Lord Moth. That is a wanted criminal. The very two men to die next to Doetrieve abetted he who you ask of.¡± The captain¡¯s hair stuck to his head with sweat, but he endeavored to answer his lordship in full. ¡°Now as to the,¡± said hesitating. ¡°As to the arachnids, they are our livestock.¡±


    ¡°Good One. You eat them?¡± blurted Lord Moth.


    ¡°Yes, Lord Moth.¡±


    ¡°Good One.¡±


    ¡°There are no grounds to the, as you suggested, ravings of now anticitizen Mason Doetrieve. The Ponderous lives. May I help you in any other way, your lordship?¡±


    ¡°You may. Show me The Ponderous.¡±


    At this, Locust¡¯s elf eyes widened. Before he could protest, Doetrieve, with enthusiasm, interrupted. He warned the lord of Locust¡¯s depravity and predicted his death if gone alone. At this, Lord Moth allowed a chuckle.


    ¡°Your tone is very certain. I suppose you would wish to be my escort. But you had better stay here and be questioned further while I--and my men--accompany Locust to His chamber. If there are grounds to what you claim, we may have need of more talk. But come. The Ponderous cannot be dead--heed your captain. Look at your flowers and trees--even these despicable fungi do not decay. No, I¡¯m certain this shall be a short visit, unusual as it is, and I will repent for my curiosity at a later date.¡±


    But here it was felt as the dwarf¡¯s turn to interject, pulling from his bag an item colored in the same vein as that which Lord Moth wore. At his slow realization, the lord revealed his own unique look of horror.


    ¡°By what means does he have that package!¡±

 CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

    How the dwarf recovered the package of royal elf colors is no difficult solve: he asked Doetrieve. Why Doetrieve did not remember ever telling the dwarf its hidden location is not inexplicable either: he did not. Or rather, the lieutenant had in fact, once, told the dwarf of the compartment beneath a certain suite, but this was done in a timeline gone to the waters of oblivion. Indeed, only two nights had passed since the dwarf and Paris¡¯ infiltration. But for the dwarf, he lived a dozen.


    Thanklessly, the dwarf ¡®LOADED¡¯ into a body of fresh pain again and again--following the dwarf¡¯s suicide off the forest¡¯s ravine and an edge gained that same night due to unfair insight, he decided to utilize the strange tool this world gifted him in defeating Locust. What the dwarf realized upon bonding with Paris was the means of doing so. But Paris was a docile, friendly pet domesticated already by Doetrieve. The arachnids beneath the elf¡¯s mountain were freed once before, and they did not run to their captors with open pedipalps. The task ahead of him loomed greatly, which is why he decided to seek out the imprisoned Doetrieve at once for wisdom.


    At first, the dwarf considered the graveyard shift guards that had assisted him before. They were not on duty the night he sneaked back to the walls, and so, the next day, after he and Doetrieve¡¯s pet had crawled over into the settlement wasting hours searching within to no avail, the dwarf returned in an afternoon still lacking the desired guards¡¯ presence. it was decided the time from sun up to sun down would best be spent elsewhere. Forced to bide his time until nightfall, the dwarf wandered the forest with Paris skulking behind, hands glad to be free of her reins. On occasion the spider blasted a load onto unsuspecting prey, acts which the dwarf also did not expect. They passed through groves of odd shaped rocks, under awnings of clumped, dead trunks, over fallen stalks and deflated caps. Although he had begun to enjoy the presence of Paris, the time spent together felt hollow--he had made up his mind to collect what information he could and die. What moments he spent with the arachnid would be washed away. It brought a cloud over what was sunny and appreciable. The dwarf wondered of relief were he able to ¡®LOAD¡¯ no longer.


    It also depressed the dwarf to eat little else but the same apples and terrible bread. Worse, each ¡®LOAD¡¯ brought his fungus headed flock to view, and he was forced to endure Doctor Mallow¡¯s betrayal again and again to the same innocent, unknowing creatures. He did not withhold his love from any but Funguayou, for little generated regarding, but the same hollowness suffered during the dwarf¡¯s aimless walk in the woods sounded its cavern in the steeple.


    The sun set, and the dwarf--Paris mounted--rode to the front gate to meet exactly who he meaned to see.


    ¡°Wuz you?¡± asked Corporal Deertre.


    ¡°¡®Is that little feller. Yer memory¡¯s gone,¡± chirped Corporal Smucker.


    ¡°Memory ain¡¯t gone, ¡®course I know is the little feller.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know nothin¡¯ cuz you cook ¡®at elf brain o¡¯ yers in brandy.¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t cook wit¡¯ brandy.¡±


    The dwarf, foreseeing an indefinite continuation, interrupted.


    ¡°Wuzzat? Where¡¯s the prisoner? ¡®Fraid I can¡¯t tell ye, not mine knowledge to divulge.¡±


    ¡°Suite ¡®310¡¯, I believe,¡± answered Smucker.


    Struck dumb, Deertre turned to his companion across the gate.


    ¡°¡¯Oo told you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Some corporals are more equal than others.¡±


    ¡°What...¡±


    Corporal Smucker made a motion as if he were going to have the gates opened. But, hesitating, he turned back to the dwarf.


    ¡°Actually, ya might be too late,¡± he suggested. ¡°It¡¯s the eve of his execution. The lieutenant¡¯s been moved to the captain¡¯s chambers by now. And ¡®ole place is locked up tighter ¡®an vine. Y¡¯ain¡¯t gettin¡¯ in there, I¡¯m ¡®fraid. But I¡¯ll let you in the city all the same if ya like.¡±


    Dejected but determined to make something of the night, he accepted Corporal Smucker¡¯s kindness and entered the settlement, guards on the other side as grave as last he¡¯d come. But the dwarf¡¯s dour mood dissipated on realizing the valuable information just learned, that upon his next ¡®LOADING¡¯ he would be able to locate a far less defended Lieutenant Doetrieve. But the dwarf was unwilling to take Corporal Smucker¡¯s word completely--he wished to survey the jail himself.


    Barracks, emerald chamber, captain¡¯s quarters, and indeed jail--the great dome of wood and rock, bamboo and runes, housed it all. Arriving there carefully, the dwarf passed through disguising branches and tall stalks of sugarcane undetected, past the lake shore and towering sugarcane homes. But ¡®arriving there¡¯ really meant coming within two hundred feet of the dome. He could go no further, dozens of officers (including many seen later on the day of the execution) patrolled or stood vigilant at all entrances. Some wore traditional colors; many royal The doors Paris had irreparably burst apart had been seen to and reinforced with thick, brilliantly gold replacements. The dwarf wondered, comparing the new glimmering doors to the somewhat shanty conditions of several peasant homes, if the poison¡¯s purchase really had or hadn¡¯t come from the captain¡¯s coin. He leaned on the latter.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Discouraged from attempting any closer distance to Doetrieve, the dwarf¡¯s thoughts trailed off towards The Ponderous One. He already meant to pay a visit to the glass pens which housed ¡®livestock¡¯ beneath the elf¡¯s mountain; why not seek Him out for little more effort? The dwarf admitted to himself an intense curiosity to know just how the ¡®antidote¡¯ functioned. Injecting the solution would normally be a singular event--but with his trust in ¡®LOADING¡¯, the dwarf grew eager at parting the curtains early.


    But the dwarf was stopped at the rock face he knew concealed the secret entrance to the spider pens. On the other side of a magically sealed slab once was Waspig and Bathiel, the rest of his recent flock at the time slaughtered. And it was this seal that kept the dwarf sitting in dark bushes for much of the moon¡¯s span. He had never been able to discern what the elfs performed exactly with their handwaving. He wondered if it was ¡®FAITH¡¯. He wondered if it was magic. In a world of runes and dream eaters, the pulp notion was not so distant. The dwarf thought of whether or not ¡®FAITH¡¯ and magic were the same thing, but the notion seemed sacrilegious enough to offend his father, and the dwarf looked downward at dark leaves, disappointed with himself.


    No elf came that night.


    As the day began with mist, the dwarf had made his way back to the dome to observe the procession. Soon guards gave way to Captain Locust, Lieutenant Doetrieve, and, to an unsuspecting dwarf¡¯s horror, Corporals Smucker and Deertre. He did not really need to guess at what had happened. But were such lives so dispensable their deaths could be mere add-ons? The dwarf frowned and forced himself to attend the executions from cover, careful to have open two potential exits. Neither were needed in quick evacuation by the end, but the dwarf¡¯s mood was not any more improved by it. He knew very little allies in this world--he watched them all die.


    With not much more to accomplish, and with heavier fog rolling in, the dwarf let himself down the elfen wall and back onto the outskirts of the settlement. Paris skittered over to the dwarf from its position, having only then broken its patience and disobeyed its next master. This notion especially depressed the dwarf, hesitating the mount the spider, for a moment only still with his soles to fresh dew.


    The dwarf casually brought its trot towards the ravine and stopped some ways before disembarking. Even if his life were going to end, he would not bring any more unnecessary harm to the poor arachnid, memory of its skewered joint solely on the dwarf¡¯s mind as clouded as the forest around him. He stepped to the edge of the ravine unscathed having guessed correctly at the day¡¯s lack of shifts. The dwarf turned back towards the distant arachnid and again at the dark before him and down he plunged.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±...


    Paris parked, the dwarf made his way to the opulent glass hotel and began crawling a dark section of bamboo wall, movements cautious. He managed himself up a floor and to where he had once exited with the use of his pickaxe. Despite the quick gold readjustment to the building in which Captain Locust slept, the once glass window had been replaced with a wooden barricade. The dwarf, feet cold on the rim of the hotel, inched apprehensively nearer and tested his palm against the pallet. It fell over casually--it had not been fixed in place whatsoever. But to his bare soles the dwarf breathed relief for the sill had been cleaned completely of jagged shards once his bloodletter. Now completely exposed by a lit indoors and glass around him, the lowered dwarf kept his pace atop carpet several degrees quicker than sneaking through the settlement. He abruptly stopped in front of a more traditional door laid open, thin cart its wedge.


    At first sweat perspired. But the dwarf considered the late night and, barring unknown customs, no housecleaning team would be active. If for whatever reason he were caught nonetheless, it would not be difficult to spin on his heel and burst out from the open exit his entrance. Lungs swelled, the dwarf crept to the doorway and leaned his beard in. The room--though no suite--was empty. On the tips of his toes he pushed out the cart decorated in toiletries and allowed the door to seal him: he was alone in dark. The dwarf fumbled for the knob again ducking out and in to retrieve a mounted torch. It hurt to hold, the dwarf found, and was only slightly better than the ache brought about by Paris¡¯ reins. But he persisted in unveiling the strangely dark room and discovered a horde of supplies: cleaning, decorating, adjusting, repairing. On one wall lay a ring of two keys; on another hanged parchment. Numbers just as the dwarf had known in a world out of reach went down a list with neighboring check marks in peculiarly different ink. Some numbers bore checks; many did not. So many, in fact, the dwarf again questioned the structure and its purpose in a settlement still beginning. But, gleaming, the list brought some relief to the dwarf--with most suites empty, his chance of being caught were very little. His luck only expanded with the obtaining and likely purpose of the keys.


    Night still perceived long to go, the dwarf helped himself to a selfish opening of the suite next door, carefully sliding the door back into place, off to the adjoined bathhouse. He wasted no time in starting a bath and immersing himself within, and he cried--it had been so long. This fact highlighted after by the distinct trail made made in his wake: dark dwarfen footprints through the suite to storage and all down the hall. The dwarf felt his face redden, and knew it took only one pair of eyes and sharp ears to sound alarm. But his further tread would be clean, and he felt the same. To the third floor the dwarf traveled upon locating a spiraling stairwell. To suite ¡®317¡¯ the dwarf arrived. There was no soldier present, not a soul in either direction. He slid the key he¡¯d used for the second floor suite and found it did not click. The other key on the ring, then, he slid in, and with satisfaction the door could be pushed aside. And there was Doetrieve shackled to the wall before the bed.


    The dwarf creeped towards the chains that bound the sleeping lieutenant, and found locks incompatible with either possessed key. He searched the dim lit room--even its bathhouse--and could find nothing. It was not as if the dwarf were determined to free Doetrieve the very same night--he knew Doetrieve would not flee his execution for there was nowhere for him to go, and justice would be all the harder to prove than in the right moment. But he figured the lieutenant may prefer chatting with arms relaxed. Unable to acquiesce to his assumption, the dwarf elicited water from a fountain not dissimilar to that from his own old home. He splashed it into Doetrieve¡¯s face and immediately the elf sputtered. Alarmed at sudden flights of footsteps, the dwarf dove beneath the bed, and the door slid back as royal boots hit the carpet. But Doetrieve, coughing ceased, continued his same position of silent slumber. Guards satisfied, they returned to their suites. The dwarf heard then a whisper.


    ¡°Dwarf?¡±

 CHAPTER FIFTY

    Over the course of the night spent in Doetrieve¡¯s windowless suite, the dwarf asked of and learned a great many things. Among his requests: the handwaving gesture necessary to access the elf¡¯s mountain--though it would be difficult to teach while bound, argued Doetrieve. Indeed the disgraced lieutenant¡¯s arms limply hung from shackles, his fate soon a transporting to the captain¡¯s chambers. The dwarf made a mental note of the upcoming march and. after, swapped words concerning Paris. Pleased smile shadowed by shoulder length hair, Doetrieve nodded in agreement: Paris was a fine spider. The dwarf pressed and hit upon a particular wound, Doetrieve shrugging off the conditions of similar livestock; this was Captain Locust¡¯s concern. The dwarf, surprised at his own words, shamed the lieutenant. The elf¡¯s head bowed. He did not particularly care either for the conditions of which their arachnids were kept, but he had made no real effort to fight it. The dwarf asked if he ate them with any zeal, and he did not. A comparison to Waspig¡¯s species fell on closed ears, Doetrieve claiming it in particular a favorite. But the two being in agreement on spiders strengthened the dwarf¡¯s resolve for the tasks ahead. While his mind was on the subject, he brought up arachnid training.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t ¡®arder ¡®an teachin¡¯ a dogbarn. Ask away.¡±


    Before anything concerning Paris¡¯ species, the dwarf wanted to ask of what a dogbarn was. With how much time remaining unknown, he decided against derailing the conversation and potentially delaying his necessary questions to a repeat performance. The lieutenant¡¯s eyes glittered in the dim suite.


    ¡°You don¡¯t ¡®ave enough time for what yer thinkin¡¯, friend.¡±


    But the dwarf persisted.


    ¡°Yer casket. It¡¯ll help if Paris¡¯ with you--maybe, or maybe not. N¡¯ain¡¯t trying to lead y¡¯astray, but it shun¡¯t surprise a fella to know each spider¡¯s different. Some¡¯r easy. Some are not. You really don¡¯t ¡®ave the time to learn their temperments, where they want their itches, what they don¡¯t, whether they get on fast or creep slow.¡±


    Having finished speaking suddenly, his lip quivered. The elf glanced far to his side yet, even in the dark, the dwarf could discern a stream leaking down his cheek.


    ¡°I wish you weren¡¯t ¡®ere to see this, dwarf. I dunno what to make of you. Dunno how you know all ya do. Y¡¯came from flat out no ¡®ere, and next thing I know yer sneaking into the room I wait death in. This is what it¡¯s like, huh, dwarf? I couldn¡¯t believe you when you went an¡¯--I don¡¯t right know what you did to shoot out from the log like that. Shatterin¡¯ that glass... you know such a dee-vice came from the capital? Same as this ¡®otel. Empty dump. Cappan knows I ¡®ate it. Not that I did a thing ¡®bout this either.. But seein¡¯ you fly through the air like a pinwheel, I don¡¯t right know, I just couldn¡¯t believe a fella would fight--an¡¯ actually fight--even in ¡®is last moments like you did. And succeed. Well, if I ¡®adn¡¯t come in, the captain¡¯d¡¯ve ¡®ad ya dead quick.¡± Doetrieve suddenly exclaimed: ¡°An¡¯ what you did to ¡®is smug face!¡±


    The door slammed along its rail, and several soldiers raided the suite, familiar monochrome gi entering, wooden sandals clicking.


    ¡°Chipper and awake, Mason.¡±


    ¡°Not tired.¡±


    ¡°Clearly not,¡± surrendered Locust.¡± Lieutenant Sowsmith, unshackle him. Arms ready, now.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant...?¡±


    ¡°Do not grow jealous in your last breaths. It is unbecoming in His name.¡±


    ¡°You seen ¡®im lately?¡±


    ¡°Always. Have you? Surely not, considering what sacrilege it would be if you had.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d ¡®ave to execute me then, huh, Perry ?¡±


    ¡°Still your tongue or I will slice it out,¡± spat Perry. ¡°Sowsmith, get him on his feet.¡±


    The elfs dispersed from the room, a drooping Doetrieve first and curious Locust last. The latter hesitated in the doorway. He eventually left, and the dwarf crawled out from beneath the bed. It took some summoning of nerve to eventually crack the door open--suicide would bring him back to the chapel, but a capture by the elfs would only prolong his time alive, and he couldn¡¯t be so sure if the captain would not prolong it further. But wanting to glimpse the color of the morning to affix the time of Doetrieve¡¯s procession, he made his way to the end of the hall and gazed out at the blue grays of dawn, drizzle nearly consuming buildings--absolutely carts and stalls. He turned round and a door slid back. An elf of arched back exited with robes billowing black and, as the dwarf would later note of Lord Moth, her clothes movement faded in and out from reality, its shape loose and mistakable. She gave the dwarf a slight glance. A mole off the elf¡¯s cheek caught the dwarf¡¯s notice. She turned and slowly took to the stairway at the end of the hall, and the dwarf¡¯s held breath released. He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of the interaction but a simple gratefulness for no event being made of it. After some time he himself crossed the carpet to the stairs and, back to the floor below, made his way out where loose bamboo blocked and under the cover of rain.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±...


    ¡°Wuzzat?¡± asked an incredulous Corporal Deertre. ¡°Sowsmith? ¡®Oo¡¯s askin¡¯?¡±


    ¡°A friend of the lieutenant''s, you twit,¡± scolded Corporal Smucker. ¡°At this hour? ¡°¡®Ee¡¯s asleep at the tavern. Sleeps with a woman there, y¡¯see. Not a big secret, huh, Deer?¡±


    ¡°Wuzzat?¡± asked Deer. ¡°I dunno where Sowsmith is.¡±


    Smucker gazed at his guardmate before turning to the dwarf.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one tavern: the Beatin¡¯ Bug. Can¡¯t miss it.¡±...


    The dwarf did not miss it. Locating the completely sguarcane made bar, he lay in wait for much of the night, and if he slept he did not know it, but he did rejoice at the figure exiting the Beatin¡¯s backdoor for it, in familiar marine blue, left alone and quickly ventured off the general vine woven path. Tracking the elf, the dwarf wondered if his promotion was imminent. While he felt some regret in clubbing the soon-to-be lieutenant with a particularly hefty branch, it would not pain him later at the executioner¡¯s reveal.


    The dwarf dragged Sowsmith over to bushes and bound his wrists with tight vine, helping himself to the key stashed on his uniform. To the hotel he quickly trot after, time short, mounting the hotel¡¯s bamboo and letting himself in just as he had the same night in a life previous. To housekeeping¡¯s storage he helped himself, and Doetrieve¡¯s suite soon unlocked again. The former lieutenant¡¯s wrists the same, he rubbed at them vigorously.


    ¡°Dwarf? I dunno what to say. Brought a branch in I see. What?¡± stammered Doetrieve. ¡°The mountain gesture? If this¡®s how ya wanna spend the night.¡±


    The dwarf, before the lesson began, asked if he wanted to escape.


    ¡°No sir. Not livin¡¯ on the outskirts like some bandit. If I¡¯m to be hung I¡¯ll hang. I give up. We did what we could. Now you want to know this movement or not? Hold your hands out like this...¡±


    In addition to mastering the relatively simple hand gesture and whisper (which he had never heard), the dwarf too earned more advice towards harboring friendly relations with the spiders beneath rock. Their practicing and conversation cut through enough hours to summon the captain and his mix of known and unknown elf soldiers, Sowsmith noticeably absent from the party.


    ¡°Let yourself free did you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Come out with it, Mason. Who helped you? And what has become of Sowsmith?¡±


    ¡°What are you blabbering out?¡±


    ¡°Coy?¡±


    ¡°You know what that looks like.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± said Locust. ¡°But you hide something yet. It¡¯s that blasted dwarf, well? Where is he?¡±


    ¡°I let myself free just like you said, Perry.¡±


    Locust, not much less in height to Doetrieve, spit in Doetrieve¡¯s face. Assuring his men to shoot should the disgraced lieutenant struggle, the captain directed the march to his chambers as he had the same night before. In a similar vein he glanced about the room, suspicious. Locust¡¯s long hair blew out from his head as he jerked it below the bed to meet the terrified eyes of the dwarf. The captain¡¯s own elf eyes widened and he howled into an eventual call for assistance. Doetrieve slammed through the door shattering its grip on its rails while arrows flew. Naturally ending against Locust, Doetrieve awakened his own lungs, advising the dwarf he run.


    Locust regained his stance just as Doetrieve threw a failed right hook. Recovered, the captain had shattered Doetrieve¡¯s wrist, the latter crumpling. An ugly sneer appeared across his glass scarred face until suddenly crushed with the weight of a heavy branch.


    ¡°ONE-HANDED SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ONE-HANDED SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Locust crashed to the carpet to which Doetrieve crawled over and delivered as much force as his active hand could accomplish to the already pulverized face of Locust, and the dwarf delivered another swing against the first guard, a foreign elf, to enter. The wood in the dwarf¡¯s grip dropped him. Another swing and another went down. Another skill increase flashed before the dwarf but, to one already resigned to death, the celebration meant little.


    Out the suite the dwarf and Doetrieve stumbled, and immediately a throng of arrows set themselves into disgraced lieutenant with remarkable, unsuspecting speed. He did not cry as he hit the ground, and the dwarf did glance back while continuing to run, and the dwarf took an arrow to his beard. Unable to access the stairway, the dwarf opted for the end of the hall and took another swing with his weapon against glass: the branch shattered into splinters. Dumbfounded, the dwarf turned as elfs slowed their pace, a furious, ravaged Locust stomping near. As he beheld this, a suite door slid and the woman with mole on cheek exited, given quickly to screeching at the drawn bows. While she remained petrified, the dwarf sprinted into the open room and digested its interior with haste. It was like any other within the hotel, but black tapestries hugged the walls, all woven with strange milk colored symbols. Candles stacked and packed corner to corner glowed and where the largest of them were concentrated, a long sword in a midnight black scabbard lay. The woman rushed in behind the dwarf shoving him forward, escaping to the bathhouse with a slam of its door.


    Recovered, the dwarf wasted no time in producing the sword from its sheath, its point glimmering in the warm pulsing of candlelight. Each flickering source blew back with the rushing in of Locust, and the elf watched in angered horror as the dwarf carved his stomach apart.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    Morning stale at the steeple, the dwarf laid himself atop the remains of the singed rolled carpet and said nothing to no one, acknowledging neither funguay nor flock, motionless and numb.

 CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

    On the third loop of the first of two nights before Doetrieve¡¯s scheduled death, the dwarf held the reins of the lieutenant¡¯s arachnid as it traversed a sea of branch and leaf. Something hopeless had grown within the dwarf. He tired of repeating not only the same two days but the journey, especially unbearable--even if much quicker than on foot. But the speed did not really help considering the dwarf couldn¡¯t be active within the elf settlement during daylight. And he could not shake the sight of dead Doetrieve nor the feeling of having taken a tool to Locust. Truthfully, the dwarf enjoyed the latter, and it surprised him to revel in his violence. The dwarf thought of the massive frog that once swallowed him up and how, after escaping, he had pummeled the defenseless crumpled creature into submission, death and food. The dwarf remembered his own pinning of Doctor Mallow to the church¡¯s walls, funguay blood tricking from between prongs. He could not imagine the depths of shame his father would beat into him having learned any of his son¡¯s acts. But the same went for the dwarf¡¯s thievery and breaking and entering. What had become of himself?


    With the transition of tree to fungi in the environment, the dwarf slowed the already gentle pace of Paris. It begin trotting parallel to the high dividing natural line between forest and elf territory. He had come to learn well the fastest path from the steeple to the settlement thanks to the time and nimbleness of the lieutenant¡¯s borrowed pet and its ability to supersede the forest itself. But the dwarf did not yet know well the surrounding area so far down and away on sand, and the dwarf especially had not ventured near the plains again--not where captured nor anywhere else. But unable to stomach the sight of another elf, he commanded Paris on ahead where trees thinned.


    The dwarf thought more of his father. He wondered what his father would make of him. But had time passed at all? What if, the dwarf posited, the moment the dwarf occupied was but a flash in his old world? The idea lifted from his stories, it was one theory. The dwarf wondered if he could return and be back at the farm the same night in flee. But a familiar, dour suggestion flashed across the dwarf¡¯s mind: did he want to go back? The answer seemed to be yes: he was not once miserable, merely tired and overworked. Ever since his encountering of bark which damned him, the dwarf¡¯s life involved ceaseless justifying of his own right to exist. Any rest granted his body demanded was in-between intervals of unending battle. The dwarf¡¯s mother had not even died, was his level of exposure to the concept of death. Now he faced it in handfuls, he regretted bitterly. Of course animals died, and he held the notion tragic, and he still fondly thought of the slain Chef Girlodee and those by his father¡¯s hands and even his own. But walking, talking, so intelligent beings perishing--so forced onto the dwarf, he could hardly process what death actually meant. He thought of the struggling Doctor Mallow, its airways tightened with vine, its face a display of clear fear and desperation. The dwarf had nearly suffered the same fate. The dwarf had fallen into ravines and down tunnels and been stabbed and done the stabbing himself, oozing in all instances, a pathetic heap every time.


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes remained dry. As he and Paris approached where trees began to greatly decline in number, an idea occurred. It was still some hours before evening with plenty light before nightfall. In the midst of the sunset the unusual planet of blue wove itself into the blanket of emerging stars. He wondered whether its sole dot of green really did mean land in complete sea. It was always the same way at church. It felt that way now.


    But such a leisurely reflective walk atop green ceilings would not result in good time, the dwarf wishing for as much night to work with as possible. He at once hitched the spider into a fast pace and the two worked towards a substantial hill in the distance among the lower, lesser plains. On the way the dwarf tasted Tryse and remarked at its suddenness before realizing, remembering, and wallowing in annoyance. The dwarf never accepted Funguayou¡¯s offer, or perhaps had never pursued it, and did not know where to begin in hunting the herb. He could only remember its life as garnishment in a meal served by the dwarfen funguay, and the taste frustrated him. He hated his illegitimate offspring¡¯s complicity, and thus he hated it. The dwarf did not wish to remember any meal made by the terrible sight¡¯s illegitimate hands--not that the dwarf felt overly attached to his changed form. Funguayou was a terrible mirror, a reminder of what he was, and what he no longer wasn¡¯t. There existed no regret of the beard. But all else that grew around was not him.


    The dwarf pulled the reins far before their destination had been reached. A bluff crossed, the dwarf remembered its mounting with Waspig. The sky melted into red satin, remnants of color whipping through the air before arriving to slush at the end of the sea. Before the water was the beach and atop the beach stood the often gazed upon city, its smoke active even into the reds heralding night. The dwarf¡¯s stomach growled in thought of fish--any food at all that was not apple or loaf, though he chastised himself for a lack of gratefulness. He shut his eyes and refocused his thoughts on the plains that stretched far and away, the occasional pine or palm or fusion sole occupiers of the field. They and the mammoths, the dwarf recalled, though none stomped. He wondered whether the tusked or the tuskless seaside populace would sleep first. Beside a tuft of bushes and speckled dirt the dwarf reminisced of the strange sucking and snorting his pigsect had once boldly undertook.


    ¡°SURVIVAL SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    Having put together a fire with little else but branch and dry grass, the dwarf after lay in wait afar. Paris caught up on its rest while the dwarf, by now used to seeing through the graveyard shift of the repeating night, watched through foliage with curiosity. Many hours passed (though less than what was wasted before the Beatin¡¯ Bug). Having forced out his anxiety with a wall of complete thoughtlessness, the dwarf nearly did succumb to sleep, and in times of desperation he sought to soothe Paris so as to soothe himself. It was well when he choose one of the many times to place his hand atop Paris¡¯ hind legs, for very early in the morning it began to chitter in response to unknown stimuli, placed into a calm via the dwarf¡¯s movements. Then appeared from darkness a cart and two figures. The dwarf watched them abandon their vehicle and skulk into what black clouds above hid well, and it was some time before the dwarf reestablished sight; a face appeared beneath one sole pine and another hid within reeds of an overlooked pond. And for the next hour the dwarf watched the figures watch a fire burn itself out.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Pale as the hours were just past midnight, rain never let. What occurred was the eventual abandoning of the ostensibly abandoned campfire, the two figures returning to their cart, exchanging inaudibly, splitting. One took the wood on wheels back in the direction it arrived, and the other crossed into obscured darkness. It agitated the dwarf to choose between leads, but the former impatiently won and on his trail the dwarf followed--from quite a ways, not wanting to cross into the second figure¡¯s view should it linger. Atop the gentle back of Paris, the dwarf began to notice scars and old wounds in the body of the mount. The day in which the dwarf took his pickaxe to glass paid consequences for many parties, Paris included, the dwarf lamented. He thought of the shackled, disgraced Doetrieve. He thought of the lieutenant dead on the log, dead on carpet. He thought of the corpse of Waspig dragged into the desecrated steeple the dwarf knew could not be much further ahead. And, his gaze transfixed to the fast passed fields of flower and green below, he noticed old treadmarks.


    After having tracked the figure some ways away from both the elfs and the city--black and gray billowing heap in the distance smaller and smaller--the dwarf rediscovered the gnarled steeple of the plains. This was enough: the dwarf needed go no further, for knowing the journey was all he seeked--this life. Abruptly pulling Paris away from the jutted spears and strung skeletons and back towards the settlement fast took the skulking figure behind them unawares, stumbling backward as Paris seized the bandit. Before the victim could scream, web filled his lungs, and Paris wasted little time in wrapping him up. The dwarf made a move to stop the spider--but what did it matter, he thought, the bandit would be alive next time. Dismounting and gaining physical distance from his own guilt, the dwarf took up a weapon noticed fallen and wielded it awkwardly--the hilt was not made for his dwarfen hands. He tossed it aside and remounted the arachnid commanding it away from its mummified prey, and away he callously rode, little empathy to offer.


    As the dwarf could not enter the elf settlement during daylight, he brought Paris over to a familiar shrouded grove and climbed off, nestling himself in a dark, ruddy nook. The dwarf felt filthy. He had not employed a bath this second loop, and the dwarf realized what it cost him. Worse, the feeling of scrubbing oneself clean only to blink and be a mess again frustrated his head. He wanted to squeeze his fists but hadn¡¯t the room. He shut his eyes and forced his thoughts away from the dull aches vibrating throughout his worn frame...


    Doetrieve¡¯s taught trick in action, the dwarf gained access to the elf mountain, and within it was passed an empty glass cage and console. Entering the main annex of the cave, the dwarf beheld once more the array of crystalline restraints the elfs¡¯ livestock were subjected to, spiders forced within glass, limbs locked in place. What baffled the dwarf, however, was its barren state. No guards walked walkways, and no lower common elf tended to the animals--though, at the hour of night, perhaps this was not so unbelievable. Regardless, the ease of which the dwarf would be able to destroy the console across the cave was palpable. But the dwarf steadied himself. If he were to amass an army, he would need it one recruit at a time. And although Paris stayed situated at its den within elf walls leaving the dwarf alone to train, he wished for this. The dwarf would see alone what his ¡®ANIMAL HUSBANDRY¡¯ could do first...


    Doetrieve was right. All the spiders were different, with various personalities that pit the dwarf against new and unique challenges more invigorating than draining. One command console at a time the dwarf took a fist to, taming its contents before moving to the next if the night allowed. And it did not for them all: the dwarf spent many of the same two nights within the abandoned mountain, practicing with each spider to the point of memorizing their personalities and how to win them over. Some spiders indeed wished to have their hind legs stroked; others hated the notion. Some liked pedipalp contact; some had rather not. Some shirked once freed; others immediately attacked, and the dwarf did in fact perish at least once for his efforts, a stray claw casually puncturing his chest and leaving him a gasping, dying heap. But he persevered, and found the most hostile of spiders shrank if Paris was present. His offerings of apples and even mushroom loaves were greatly loved and adored by nearly all but the biggest of them--the eight foot beast which once wrecked a prison and nearly killed Locust. This creature was the last the dwarf sought to train, his apprehension no less no matter how many spiders he won over. But so it was in a single night--the first of the two repeated--the dwarf, with Paris, hit every glass cage. Indeed the dwarf exercised his accumulated wealth of knowledge and took to the entire swath of livestock, and with them on his side, the dwarf faced the biggest arachnid of them all. Upon smashing the console, the great hulking monster cautiously exited and surveyed the army gathered around. With no move struck towards the stout, the spider fell in line--the dwarf approached and gently gave strokings, took to its pedipalps--it threw the dwarf about suddenly, a disc through air. It was Paris that shot web with finesse and reeled the dwarf back with motion against the weight of gravity. Recovered, every beast rallied around him collectively chastising the untamed, unruly giant. And with a lowered head it approached the dwarf for forgiveness.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 34¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 35¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 36¡±


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 37¡±...


    By the end of that same night, guards at the beachside city of Nasteze rose for their shifts, the city otherwise keeping its gates sealed. As a bridge crossed the moat, soldiers balked at the cart of mummified, breathing bodies before them. Some distance away where mammoths crossed and bandits once hunted, the dwarf and his army of arachnids inhabited a desecrated, desolate chapel, its front yard filled with bones, its roof adorned with more, its inside a terrible mess of haystacks filled with arrows, kegs and barrels of a liquid the dwarf¡¯s nose turned up at, all punctuated with a great throne where an altar surely once stood. Before it, however, just as he had seen only once, the lectern remained. Atop it a book of white pages seeped and wicked with crimson flipped its blank contents before the dwarf. A familiar message displayed much to the satisfaction of he who tired of endlessly traveling the great expanse of the forest.


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±

 CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    The message disappeared. So did the dwarf.


    Rematerialized in the church of two holes, he found himself smothered suddenly by a surprised but cheerful flock. What happened? Even Funguayou, jaw silently hung, offered no motion. The dwarf recalled facing no prompt other than one to ¡®SAVE¡¯ and another to confirm. But there was no doubting it: like in the emerald chamber, the dwarf had been one place and was suddenly at another. But a rift of differences opened: for one, the aforementioned chamber was, evidently, a dwarfen construct. The churches, the dwarf did not know, but it was not difficult to guess a likelier species. Within the two steeples discovered, both featured immobile books of endless empty pages. Below one a ruin lay, interestingly, but the dwarf considered the contradiction in Doctor Mallow¡¯s ancient words--what was the value in their coming here? The church must have arrived some time long after, surmised the dwarf. And between two he¡¯d instantaneously traveled.


    His hands to his pets, the dwarf embraced every fungus topped creature within his grasp. In the company of arachnids so long and focused, he couldn¡¯t help but enjoy the return to form, even if only momentarily, even if Waspig and company too bolstered arrays of eyes. But the dwarf faced a strange dilemma: Paris waited back on the plains. He wanted, or needed, to return to the chapel from whence he came, and the dwarf, ignoring Funguayou and directing himself to the bible, flipped the pages and watched a familiar prompt appear. It was his denial that gave birth to a brand new words:


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO RELOCATE?¡±...


    On a countless rehearsal of the eve of Doetrieve¡¯s scheled death, the dwarf returned to the mountain which required the elven hand signal and whisper. Executing both well, he entered past empty cells to the very end of winding tunnels, finding himself again in the chamber of The Ponderous One. And on approach, Captain Locust stepped from cover.


    ¡°It was wise of me to wait for you.¡±


    Despite the dwarf¡¯s insistence four more times, this encounter with the leader of the elf settlement ended the same way: death by Locust¡¯s blade.


    The final time the dwarf would repeat the night--much more practice a necessary prelude--he and his eight legged flock traveled the plains back to the wilds before the elfs, and beneath and above tall trees and fungi the convoy skittered and hopped. Night spent sniping sharp eared soldiers from the ramparts and binding them immobile, familiar heavy fog heralded early morning. Mounting the wall as a unit, the dwarf¡¯s creatures awaited their new master¡¯s command. And the events as they unfolded next did so just as recorded, with the noosed Doetrieve atop fresh web, two corporals affixed to a hasty carving, Sowsmith in the bushes, Captain Locust enraged, and the dwarf holding high above his beard black, gold, and purple.


    ¡°By what means does he have that package!¡± demanded Lord Moth.


    Locust shrank and said nothing. Though the elfs who had come to see the soldiers hanged nearly fully dispersed, much of their numbers returned, and all eyes soaked up the silence between elf, dwarf, and arachnid. Sun having since vanquished mist, it glowed on Lord Moth¡¯s attire, gilding its corresponding colors to that which the dwarf held. His and Locusts¡¯ yukatas whipped in the wind, as did the clothes of other elfs¡¯ who chose to dress at all. The former, frail but foreboding, rose his voice at the latter:


    ¡°The pack-age, Locust. Answer!¡±


    Locust cleared his throat.


    ¡°This criminal is charged with its theft.¡±


    ¡°What! How could he possibly get near such paper? Are your men guarding the vault or the spiders?¡± spat Moth, adding, ¡°Though clearly it cannot be the latter, can it? Just what are your soldiers doing, Perry Locust?¡±


    All this the captain took with downward glance. The dwarf met his sharp elfen eyes and wondered how badly Locust regret the use of royal materials. But why, he asked himself, ever? The deal so duplicitous between elf and funguay, no trace of the captain should have been allowed alive. Perhaps, then, this is why Locust returned to the cottage days later--perhaps he came to the same realization, and, added the dwarf, had no ¡®SAVE¡¯ to ¡®LOAD¡¯. Locust¡¯s gaze fixed and unchanged, the dwarf began to shrink and rest a hand atop the hind leg of Paris.


    ¡°The dwarf is a sneaking sort.¡±


    ¡°Dwarf? Dwarf you say? Where? Him? He is no dwarf. I remember dwarfs, boy, far before hair ever grew on your head. And sneaky? You can¡¯t mean such a thing, Perry. What good at stealth would a clumsy dwarf be? Their arms were made for the mines, not swiping elf treasure.¡± And, shifting his sight to the interloper in question:: ¡°I am addressing the ¡®dwarf¡¯. What is in the package?¡±


    The addressed came forward to the crenellation and dropped the royal colors fast into the bushes atop sprawled Sowsmith. The nearest guard carefully removed the fallen object and delivered it to the elder lord.


    ¡°I appreciate your cooperation, and... what is this? Jewels and baubles and coin? This is easily... thousands.¡± Lord Moth eyed a woman in similar attire--she with mole on cheek--and lay at her hands the black, gold, and purple. Despite his weak gait, he closed in on Locust like a viper, spitting, ¡°Thousands, Perry. How could the ¡®dwarf¡¯ collect all this under your nose? How is such an act possible? No, Perry, tell me this: how did this package come to be?¡±


    The captain sweat.


    ¡°It is an embarrassment to be his victim.¡±


    ¡°Answer, Perry Locust. How did the dwarf find this royal parcel? And why did it exist for his hands to supposedly take!¡±


    ¡°He wrapped it himself,¡± mumbled the captain.


    ¡°He wrapped it himself!¡± repeated Moth, red in the face. ¡°Why, he stole traditional elf folding lessons as well, did he? Perry!¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°I apologize, your lordship. I misspeak. You must forgive me--¡±


    ¡°I must not.¡± his lordship interjected.


    ¡°You may choose not to forgive me, sir,¡± continued Locust, ¡°but what the dwarf holds was intended for the mayor of Nasteze.¡±


    ¡°The mayor,¡± said Moth, ¡°of Nasteze.¡±


    Locust said nothing.


    ¡°What does Nasteze require our coffers for?¡±


    ¡°They contest the land.¡±


    ¡°They contest the land. Then they may come and try and take it. We built you a wall, Perry. You would never be authorized to make such a payment without informing the council first.¡±


    ¡°I... did.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡±


    With some hesitation, ¡°I did,¡± said the captain.


    Lord Moth exchanged smiles with his female companion. She shook her head. Moth¡¯s eyes returned to Locust¡¯s faltering face.


    ¡°She is certain you¡¯ve not.¡±


    ¡°Things slip through cracks.¡±


    ¡°Your request was never made, Perry. We have a good relationship with Nasteze. I have met the mayor myself... you are a poor liar.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s vision snapped to the elf atop the log.


    ¡°Reckon I can tell you ¡®oo that package was for,¡± offered Doetrieve, vine still tight on his neck.


    Lord Moth once more turned to she with mole who produced a scabbard of which Moth drew out a fine blade--the very same the dwarf had before gouged himself on. The frail elf ascended up the log¡¯s steps, raised and lowered his arm in quick succession, and descended back down to the woman. Behind him, the vine snapped and the former Lieutenant dropped to his knees. Lord Moth looked on expectantly.


    ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°Yessir,¡± said with cracking neck, ¡°He bought poison.¡±


    ¡°Poison!¡± gasped Moth.


    ¡°Yessir.¡±


    ¡°From Nasteze?¡±


    ¡°No sir. Funguay. Squat in them village ruins south some days past. ¡®Dwarf¡¯ here recovered it and brought ¡®er back to me,¡± answered with a gesture towards his ally above.


    ¡°Back to you! Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, ¡®e was squattin¡¯ with the fungus on coincidence. An¡¯ ¡®e ¡®appened to be there when Locust made the delivery.¡±


    ¡°Does the captain have an alibi for the night this supposedly took place?¡±


    ¡°I have it on my own account and those on front gate duty at the time ¡®e does not.¡±


    The old elf glared at he in monochrome yukata.


    ¡°No alibi, Perry.¡±


    Perry stood silent.


    ¡°What of the fungus?¡±


    ¡°Cappan ¡®ad it and the ¡®dwarf¡¯ scheduled for execution.¡±


    ¡°What...¡± and Lord Moth dug at his brow gravely, asking, ¡°And the funguay now?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    Lord Moth stood silent.


    ¡°So,¡± he began, ¡°it sounds as if this little bearded man performed a nice turn for the settlement. Is that accurate, lieutenant?¡±


    ¡°Yessir, but I¡¯m lieutenant no more, sir.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we must reassess that. Come here and have your hands unbound. Perry!¡± Lord Moth at once commanded. ¡°Stay right where you are.¡± In glittering black, gold, and purple, having freed Doetrieve, he stepped towards his companion. The lord whispered in her tipped ear, and she gestured towards royal infantry to move towards the captain. Noticing, Locust yelped.


    ¡°The lieutenant does not reveal all! Recall why he was to be hung!¡±


    ¡°I recall,¡± began Moth, ¡°Obstruction of justice, dereliction of duty.¡±


    ¡°The traitorous caplover intervened in the dwarf and funguay¡¯s execution! It was he! That is why the dwarf lives!¡±


    ¡°Restrain yourself, Perry. You¡¯re in hysterics. Why wouldn¡¯t he?¡± Moth added. ¡°He knew the ¡®dwarf¡¯ undeserving of the vine, and it was a shameful thing to have him hung next to a legitimate traitor to our people. But how has this much eluded me? When was the funguay¡¯s trial, Perry?¡±


    The captain¡¯s hung mouth suggested a flow that failed to materialize.


    ¡°Captain Perry Locust,¡± asked his fast approaching lord, ¡°When was the fungus¡¯ trial?¡±


    ¡°Other species are not entitled to a trial,¡± answered a faltering Locust.


    ¡°The poisoning of The Ponderous, Perry!¡±


    ¡°... Mason Doetrieve is behind the poisoning,¡± countered Locust.


    ¡°What?¡± came an incredulous Moth.


    ¡°He and the scampering little freak are in on it, the scheme, everything. That is why he interrupted justice as was to be brought down. I did not know him as the kingpin until his act of treachery, I shamefully admit, my lord.¡±


    ¡°You are a poor liar, Perry.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± came an incredulous Locust.


    ¡°You mean to suggest the lieutenant would have gotten away it otherwise?


    ¡°Yes... well.¡±


    ¡°Well indeed,¡± concluded Lord Moth. He brushed past the captain converged on after by royal colored elfs off their lady¡¯s word. Locust, posture unfailing otherwise, bent his head. The dwarf swore on crystal glimmers off the tips of the captain¡¯s eyes--but he was captain no more, Lord Moth having exposed and humiliated Locust to his own people. Stripped of dignity and duty, he was marched to his quarters. Doetrieve, having exchanged a nod with the frail lord, ran up the nearest tower and out near the parapet where awaited Paris and the dwarf. Eyes fast full of mist, the elf approached his pet with quivering gait. At once he threw his hands around the spider, and it shoved its head against his nuzzling all the while. The dwarf imagined he watched an ¡®ANIMAL HUSBANDRY¡¯ alert between them.


    ¡°Some show, weren¡¯t it?¡± remarked Doetrieve. The dwarf laughed. ¡°But how...? I can¡¯t begin to comprehend what you¡¯ve accomplished. How...?¡± but the elf continued to stumble over his words, eyes studying the array of arachnid variety along the wall. ¡°I recognize many of these fellas from the pitiable sight they made ¡®hind glass. Much better for ¡®em to have sunlight, ain¡¯t it?¡± The dwarf agreed. ¡°I dunno what¡¯s to happen next but... if I get a say, we¡¯ll see about that. Now, let¡¯s get ¡®em to stay still fer a moment--Lord Moth requested you come, too.¡±


    Fresh from his aborted sentence, the elf gave a sharp and unique whistle which put Paris into a sitting position. The rest followed suit. And nearly as soon as the dwarf questioned the lord¡¯s intentions, he found himself, along with Doetrieve and Moth, leading the settlement¡¯s population through the winding tunnels of the mountain to the chamber of The Ponderous.

 CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

    Within a chamber of finely chiseled stone and smooth wood--one bolstering a clear moat low and around that which was not the dirt arrived on, a great and mighty tree grew beneath a tall ceiling. Such massive structure fit for more, swaths of elfs exited the cavern tunnels and joined their peers in a place holy and thought never to be seen in their lifetimes. Ahead of them limped Lord Moth, his yukata of royal colors darkening and glinting between runes and shafts of natural light, and beside him Doetrieve patiently maintained pace. Behind both the dwarf found the walk comfortable, especially to be, for once, entering the chamber as guest than interloper--his father would be happy, unless he¡¯d hate the elfs, which the dwarf thought just as likely.


    Water burst from mouths of all sizes all round the chamber; the dwarf recognized one. A few steps further and he glanced at spots where Locust had cut hi down At the end of the journey into the chamber, he, as well as every present elf, gazed sadly upon the gnarled bark of The Ponderous. Its face sported ugly splotches; Its branches drooped pathetically, and the trunk featured black and red fungi.


    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    Lord Moth had bowed his head by the point of The Ponderous¡¯ mutterings. It rose to meet the dwarf with barely restrained bewilderment. Doetrieve too turned to him.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    The dwarf felt the pangs of sympathy of many lifetimes ago well up. He drew close and, to light whisperings and gasps among the common elf, the dwarf put his palm to bark. This same hand drew eventually towards his cowskin pouch, and from within the dwarf produced a vial of thick purple.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    But as soon as the Lord instructed the dwarf¡¯s halting did The Ponderous muster a gravely command:


    ¡°STAND NOT... IN HIS WAY.¡±


    With expressed concern turned away from Moth and Doetrieve and back forward, the dwarf twisted off the cork and dribbled solution onto protruding roots across and up intricate craftsmanship and chisel work. The deitree¡¯s mouth, so unfortunately, lifelessly agape at once sprung to action in heavy, labored gasps. Lord Moth watched carefully. Doetrieve¡¯s eyes betrayed worry. And every other elf held strictly silent. As the color of autumn bled back into The Ponderous One¡¯s face, calm breathing resumed, and it silently surveyed its congregation.


    ¡°THANK YOU, ELFS AND DWARF... BUT ARE YOU REALLY?¡±


    The dwarf explained the situation, chaotic and scattered as it was, in as brief a summation possible. The Ponderous¡¯ shut eyes of clamshell bark indeed gave the sense of a great pondering for some time.


    ¡°I WORRIED OF HIS MISCHIEVOUS NATURE... AND PAID A DEAR PRICE. HE WAS NEVER FIT FOR THAT TALISMAN...¡± it said, chewing nothing and squinting at its stout guest. ¡°YOU ARE FAMILIAR, DWARF... DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE MY BARK?¡±


    But the dwarf could only tilt his head.


    ¡°I AM... TREEKIND. A GOD BUT A SERVANT ALL THE SAME. IN MY DAYS I CAUSED MUCH MISCHIEF... FOR MY FINAL DAYS, I UNDERWENT A PILGRIMAGE TO THIS PLACE. TO BE IN PLACE. HOW ABOUT IT, DWARF... MY VOICE CANNOT BE ALIEN TO YOUR EARS.¡±


    Confused, the dwarf attempted to explain ¡®SAVING¡¯ and ¡®LOADING¡¯, wanting to have avoided unnecessary questions from the elfs gathered but unable to ignore being so directly spoken to over the others. But The Ponderous hushed him and continued:


    ¡°I REFER TO A NIGHT... A FOREST... A YOUNG MAN.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s palms began squeezing and releasing before realizing a command was ever given.


    ¡°YOU WOULD DARE... SHOW SUCH DISREGARD... FOR WE WHO RENDER...¡±


    The Ponderous burst into coughs and the color of its face threatened to desaturate. But the dwarf could not process a single hack or utterance, his own ears ringing. He was no longer dwarf--he was the son of a farmer rushing past charcoal green under a starless sky. He had collided with so many trees he lost himself to anger and unwittingly chose treekind as his target. Moonlight witnessed a scene often visited in the dwarf¡¯s dreams, of being lifted into the air and dropped down a sudden made chasm, of becoming dwarf. He returned The Ponderous¡¯ reveal with a look of horror.


    ¡°I REGRET IT.¡±


    The dwarf did not know what to say.


    ¡°I REGRET IT FAR BEFORE YOU CAME. I REGRET EVER SERVING... TREEKIND DID NOT HAVE A CHOICE. BUT I SHOULD NOT HAVE CHOSEN...¡±


    Once more coughs crept from the twisted bark of The Ponderous. All elfs in attendance expressed concern, and Lord Moth approached the dwarf¡¯s side.


    ¡°Please conserve your energy, o Ponderous One,¡± he advised.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°THERE IS... NO TIME.¡±


    ¡°O One...¡± the lord lamented.


    ¡°YOU MUST LEAVE THIS ISLAND, DWARF¡± exclaimed The Ponderous. The dwarf had not known he was on an island to begin with, and carefully heeded its next words. ¡°CROSS THE TURBULENT SEAS TO THE BAY FAR NORTH...¡± it advised, ¡°AND SEEK THE CAREFUL ONE.¡±


    ¡°The Careful One, my lord?¡± asked Moth.


    ¡°AT ALL COSTS...¡± warned The Ponderous.


    ¡°Our navy is decimated, my lord.¡±


    ¡°AT ALL COSTS,¡± the deitree repeated.


    ¡°Please,¡± said Doetrieve, fresh tears down his cheeks, ¡°Conserve yer energy, O Ponderous.¡±


    ¡°I AM SORRY, O SON OF MAN¡± cried The Ponderous.


    ¡°Good One,¡± cried Lord Moth.


    The dwarf¡¯s own eyes misted, and he could not properly digest the turn of events, exhausted as he quickly became. He fought unconsciousness to hear The Ponderous¡¯ final declaration.


    ¡°I WILL NOT LET HIM ESCAPE JUSTICE...¡±


    Bark writhed and chipped as The Ponderous One bellowed in baritone an exclamation of agony, its roots bursting from the ground and walls, through ancient stone and fresh lain wood. Both Doetrieve and Moth retreated some steps back while the dwarf remained, and only did he run as roots shot into the ceiling freeing large chunks of stone and earth. All elfs ran for the walls for cover, and as the collapsing began and ended, none appeared wounded, and the dwarf himself stood meters from a thick chunk of debris. He turned to what all other elfs gasped at and faced: Captain Locust emerging from above, light spilling and smothering, a tight wound branch on each limb. The captain clearly struggled and fought for freedom but did so as vainly as a farm boy once had at the mercy of the same tree.


    ¡°What... is this!¡± cried Locust, head wildly shifting for slack, long hair whipping a blur. Appearing to pause to recover his breath, the sight of clear terror struck the captain¡¯s glass ravaged features; branches twisted into the form of a noose descended and fit itself around the captain¡¯s neck. ¡°No,¡± said the condemned, the final words of an elf captain hanged before his people.


    First to notice the lifeless expression of The Ponderous, Doetrieve let escape stuttering cries, and Lord Moth too began loosening an elder¡¯s bitter tears. Elfs fell to their knees. Unable to remain awake any longer, the dwarf fell to dirt...


    Soaked in sweat, some moments passed before the dwarf knew himself to be within an elfen suite. His immediate impulse was to throw off the blankets, but he couldn¡¯t think of anywhere to run to. The church nestled high in the mountains could surely now be thought of as made safe, and Funguayou watched over his flock. But he thought of mushrooms dotting their heads and frowned, and could only hope no further trickery was exercised upon the defenseless creatures, though stinger tipped many were. And he reflected on the spiders the dwarf had forged such strong overnight bonds with, wondering if Doetrieve had corraled them somewhere else, if they returned to their cages, remained on the wall, returned to the chapel on the plains. Feeling a perpetual worrywart, the dwarf resisted the urge to toss the heavy blankets aside and instead continued his reflections, shifting back and forth to bring about more rest. Yes, he wondered of Doetrieve next and what his fate would be--it did not seem likely the lord would have him executed. He wondered of the corporals last seen plastered to the hanging platform. And Lord Moth again crossed his thoughts. The quick slice seen on the vine that held Doetrieve flashed, and the dwarf tasted a pang of fear. But the lord had stood beside the dwarf with no apparent issue, his bent head the same height as the dwarf¡¯s. And did the lord now believe the dwarf to be what his short bearded self was? The Ponderous confirmed as much, the dwarf remembered. Would he be hanged again, then? The dwarf doubted this, too, and if another ¡®SAVE¡¯ needed accessing in the worst case, the dwarf would handle it. But he hated the very idea, truthfully, as soon as it blossomed, that the dwarf would need ¡®SAVE¡¯ again. Obviously it would happen. But the dwarf thought of the decayed Ponderous and questioned what else could be asked, learned. A moral complex arrested the dwarf--if he ¡®SAVED¡¯, was he killing The Ponderous? If the dwarf ¡®LOADED¡¯, was it reanimation? And the sight of the corpse of Locust swaying from the rooftops in sunlight disturbed the dwarf greatly. Desiring the adjoined bathhouse on multiple fronts, the blankets sailed and the door slid.


    The Curious One, the dwarf pondered as hot bubbles burst around him, sweat reforming following the beginning of the soak. Long ago, the Ponderous indeed had spoken in terms of ¡®we¡¯. What did the tree direct him in its last moments for? The dwarf saw his farm and shed salt into the bath. What would he do if he could go home? All chores would be relinquished, relished the dwarf. He would barber wheat no further. He would plough no fields. If the animals required help, that is as far as he would go. It wasn¡¯t as if his father could force otherwise, accepted he who had endured much suffering in this new world at hands offering no other choices. How much could the cost of a hired hand be compared to liquor corner receipts? And the dwarf would say a proper goodbye one day and leave, travel in one direction as he did through childhood, and work forward from there. No matter what his old world threw at him, it would not be massive divides in the earth, giant egg spawn, prison happy elfs, hulking spiders or swinesects.


    The dwarf missed Waspig.


    Out the bath, the dwarf could not return to such dirtied sheets, and so his dripping naked self left the suite and traveled down familiar carpet. A receptionist stopped the dwarf just before his exit and informed him of three requests of an audience: one from the corporals, one from the lieutenant, and one from the lord and his, as informed, daughter. The dwarf asked which order he was meant to accept, and the receptionist shrugged and slid a cowskin pouch across the counter as well as what appeared to be a bundle of ocean blue silk.


    ¡°I meant to deliver this to your door, sir,¡± started the clerk, ¡°Forgive me. A gift commissioned by Captain Doetrieve.¡±


    The dwarf repeated the name with alarm.


    ¡°Yes, the ceremony was this morning. I thought to wake you but, well, I attended, and forgot. I am sorry.¡±


    The dwarf expressed no real concern, though he would have been happy to have seen Doetrieve crowned. But a smile formed anyway for the acquiring of actual threads. The clerk continued:


    ¡°Yes, well, in this town you may walk as you choose, but Nasteze is a different place. You¡¯ll have to charter a ship there if you wish to reach the bay to the north. And you¡¯ll want to do that while wearing something, ideally.¡±


    Given the stark nude the dwarf already offered, he did not really see any reason to duck back into his suite to change, and so he billowed and dawned the robes and tied them together with a golden yellow obi, sliding his massive feet into accommodating sugarcane sandals. They clacked satisfying across tile--the dwarf abandoned his appleseed ways with triumph and exited the hotel with beard held high.

 CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

    From the hotel of glass emerged the dwarf fresh from bath in brand new attire, ocean blue gi blow beard. Tied around his waist, his yellow obi soaked in sunlight, and the dwarf¡¯s barefoot days were stomped away one geta at a time. The clacking muffled under the helixes of vines throughout dirt and softened in the short grass. Though the dwarf had worn sandals on occasion as a farm boy, he¡¯d never slipped on nor seen such strange sugarcane colored shoewear. WIth two teeth keeping his cartoonish toes elevated, the dwarf at first struggled to adjust to a balancing act. But by the arriving at what was once an audacious restaurant, the dwarf felt learned. His furry eyebrows raised at the ongoing dismantling of the restaurant, Doetrieve attending alongside his working elfs. Approaching the newly made captain, the dwarf was welcomed heartily. Doetrieve rested his tools and, when asked of the reason behind the destruction, answered.


    ¡°Got to thinking, no, we can¡¯t keep them eight legs the way we have been, no sir. But there¡¯s a finite space we got to play with inside the walls. It was either this or some houses. But right, we¡¯re gonna put in some barns and pens here. Maybe charge to pet, as a tourist attraction. I¡¯m the captain now, dwarf, have you heard? Lord Moth placed me in charge in the coming interim, for only treekind can decide in the end. Until that comes to pass, if I want this settlement to be spider city, reckon it¡¯s my call. How you liking them threads? Artisan made--some fine quality material you got on. ¡®Course it ain¡¯t no yukata. You give a shout to his lordship yet? That so. Well shoot, I¡¯m humbled to be first. If you¡¯re wantin¡¯ Corporals Deertre an¡¯ Smucker, they¡¯re recoverin¡¯ in the ward. Their necks got it worse¡¯n I did--can you tell? Anywho, Lord Moth¡¯s down in the chamber. Figurin¡¯ out what we¡¯re s¡¯posed to do next, or maybe meditatin¡¯. That¡¯s fer you to figure out; my place is here. Well, dwarf, git.¡±


    The yet visited medical ward, which was accessed by the very same annex connected to the emerald chambers, prison, and captain¡¯s quarters, smelled sterile. The dwarf balked but pressed on for the sake of those who made his life easier at great risk. The dwarf expressed these sentiments to those in hospital dress atop clean sheets, and Smucker smiled.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t believe I nearly lost my life alongside the lieu... captain,¡± Smucker corrected. ¡°Not too happy helping you got us landed, but all the same to serve the cause. I would¡¯ve done it again.¡±


    ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t!¡± cried Deertre. ¡°Fact, I ne¡¯er did nuttin¡¯, I ain¡¯t get no trial. That bastard Locust can rot in ¡®ell. Which iz real, mind you,¡± he warned the dwarf. ¡°We ain¡¯t that far from it.¡±


    ¡°Just be happy yer ¡®live you twit.¡±


    ¡°That I am. Happy, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean.¡±


    ¡°What.¡±


    ¡°Those robes don¡¯t look too bad on someone so short,¡± complimented Smucker.


    ¡°¡®E looks like a li¡¯l me.¡±


    ¡°Not nearly stupid enough.¡±


    ¡°Cappan Doetrieve can¡¯t be ¡®at good if ¡®e works me next to this elf again.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk such rubbish. Of course ¡®e will.¡±


    Reinvigorated by the improving health and camaraderie of the corporals, the dwarf began approaching the mountain after. The sun especially warm on his skin, the dwarf felt his eyelids droop as he walked off trail, coming to a stop, merely listening to the fusion of elf and nature around him. The market: busy; deconstruction: resounding. He could not say of how long he stood--only that the pressure of a great weight seemed to dampen. The dwarf came up to the rock face known so well and flashed his hands summoning its slide. The glass cages the dwarf passed were empty. The dwarf remarked on how different the settlement¡¯s atmosphere appeared, that, though elfs did chance glances at his lower stature and sprouting beard, he felt welcome again. He thought an old thought, one made in blissful ignorance that coexistence were possible. And now it seemed true. But what of his flock? What of the unrepaired steeple and The Curious One? As the dwarf questioned these quandaries, he stepped into the ruins of The Ponderous¡¯ chamber. In royal yukata among rubble and freed earth knelt Lord Moth, only rising when the dwarf clacked beside.


    ¡°Seeing you in this wear is less humorous than I feared,¡± the elder elf lamented. ¡°You and The Ponderous appear to share history. And all heard His declaration to travel north in search of The Curious. I will do right by His word and reward you a small sum for your efforts. It will be just enough to afford a ticket, I¡¯m sure, to something, perhaps not the most pleasant of ships, but it is what can be allot. Are you grateful to receive it?¡±


    The dwarf nodded, beard bouncing.


    ¡°I knew you no dwarf. ¡®O son of man¡¯...¡±


    Lord Moth¡¯s robes of royal colors shone brilliantly between shafts of natural light and the cold darkness of The Ponderous¡¯ grave. Runes, in fact, had been stripped from the room--the chamber of chiseled stone and fine wood, great hole in its mountain ceiling, struck the dwarf in a way not anticipated. It had greatly weighed on him the finality of ¡®SAVING¡¯ The Ponderous into his tomb, one of moat once infiltrated long ago. Indeed how long it seemed he and his pigsects infiltrated the chamber unaware of whose waters were waded. How obvious it seemed to him now both animate bark in his life were one and the same. But the revelation carried great power and sway over the dwarf, and he clenched his teeth bitterly at the regret expressed between dying breaths. The lord tilted his head curiously.


    ¡°It strikes me greatly His passing has such an effect on a round ear. In truth, I was not sure whether to cut you down the moment you produced that vial. But we all heard Him; their words are always law. Regardless, you no doubt have killed The Ponderous, and were any other lord in attendance they would have you looped through a vine in days. But there is another interpretation. He was not alive when we came to him. What Perry,¡± and the dwarf glanced up to find his expectation above missing, ¡°What he conspirated to do against one so holy... But his fate was decided. And Mason Doetrieve will make a fine Captain in his place--for now. So, ¡®son of man¡¯,¡± began Lord Moth with upturned chin, ¡°will you go? Will you seek out The Curious? Will you stay? Will you return from whence you came?¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The dwarf, seated on rubble, hands on knees, beard low, offered no response.


    ¡°It matters little to me. Spend the reward however you like. Perhaps you¡¯ve a teleport near the bay. How couldn¡¯t you? But I fulfill our obligation either way and may now leave this sad settlement. My daughter, on the other hand--forgive her particularly rude absence--chooses to remain, and in Nasteze of all slums. I cannot control the woman. So for the time you are to remain, will you be my round ear? Rat her to Doetrieve if you suspect anything truly foul. Well.¡±


    The lord began to step away but hesitated some feet in, turning.


    ¡°You look ridiculous in our clothing.¡±


    So exited Lord Moth. The dwarf was alone. Contemplating both the immense pressure of the chamber¡¯s deceased and the lord¡¯s cruel parting, he remained atop a chunk of mountain for some time before falling to his feet. The dwarf, weaving past rubble, faced the lifeless tree before him. Its bark lost all color, The Ponderous appearing a gray, withered, pitiable thing. But there was no one to pity, the dwarf ascertained: no light shone behind its  dead drooping eyes. No room shaking words spoke, and the dwarf¡¯s fists squeezed. He hated who was before him. And he felt sorrow. The dwarf could not come to terms with such conflicting modes of thought, and he dropped to his knees and hung his beard.


    No doubt the dwarf would have vacated the mausoleum not much later had he not caught the strangest glimmer of light from none other than the open maw of The Ponderous. And he convinced himself to ignore what was likely little else than a trick of the frazzled, weary mind until he caught another. The dwarf¡¯s heart began beating irregularly and he snapped to attention from behind in anticipation of Lord Moth¡¯s continued presence--but he was not there. The dwarf wormed his way to the tunnel leading out and, spotting none in sight, he returned to The Ponderous and hesitated in frustrating silence. Patience gone in the dozen minutes that followed, the dwarf resolved to leave. The light shone again, and the dwarf soon placed a careless clack within The Ponderous, accepted the response on the other side, and climbed in. A strange aroma not present from the chamber permeated the dark wooden interior, and what little the dwarf could make out by way of outside light was but rings. A flash from above bathed the entire hollowed Ponderous in fast fleeing light, and the dwarf was convinced to climb.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 42¡±


    Some grasping of bark required pressing his thick limbs up against the inner lining of the tree tight as possible, shifting side to side, until the dwarf could be freed for his next climb; such were the thick branched conditions. Ledges as found supported his geta. All was wood, and the occasional luminescence did not identify anything else as anything but. Further, it revealed that up was quite a ways. At some stage in the ascent the dwarf glanced down, waiting for the next glimmer to light, and realized the height attained was impossible--the dwarf could not have gone so high in a tree not whatsoever the same length. But still up beckoned. The dwarf continued.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 43¡±


    With great, final effort, the dwarf hoisted himself over a hole¡¯s lip and up onto crackling leaves. Despite the alarming sound, his weight carried with no issue, and he stood in time to witness beaming rays burst from even higher from a source obfuscated in foliage. He thought to throw himself against the briefly lit walls of leaf and twig, thought better, and lay down. Incredibly comfortable, the dwarf could not conceive rising. All limbs but the mind at rest, he set the latter aflutter with notions of what the dwarf was even engaged in. Had the dwarf desecrated The Ponderous? He recalled, as a young boy, crawling into similar hollowed situations, encountering wildlife and stashes not always made by the former. If The Ponderous had caught the boy at that age, would offense have been taken, and would he have become a dwarf then? What the dwarf engaged in felt worse than his actual damning offense and, picturing a kind Lord Moth agreeably nodding at the dwarf¡¯s confession, he could not complete the scene without the lord drawing his sword. He thought of the lord¡¯s daughter--why stay, and why Nasteze? With all the whispering between daughter and father and the way she conducted herself, the dwarf wondered at her involvement with elf politics. The concept of such alone cooked the dwarf¡¯s mind, and he sweat. A chill made him freeze, and he burst up from the leaves and assailed the wall with a fervor seen by hole and ravine.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 44¡±


    As high as the dwarf could attain a reasonable hold, for the wall began to slope into the ceiling--all still sprouted branches--he began to realize there was no reasonable exit for the sugarcane beneath his soles. Indeed platforms of shrubbery rose out from the floor with various heights attained, but the dwarf¡¯s closest would require more than letting go. The risk had grown ridiculous, thought the yet ¡®SAVED¡¯ dwarf, but further bolts of light blasting shadows onto shadows guided his will as if Waspig. He lowered his position and, further dribblings of sweat dropping, patiently waited for the next flash. His heart had rest when the dwarf did--now it seemed ready to burst. The dwarf grit his teeth and decided on what drove him further and, confident in his belief, shoved off from the handful of growth and onto more successfully. Several seconds passed before the dwarf could bring himself to reposition and, in doing so, he slammed his fist against the shrub, his floor. He hated The Ponderous One. He respected The Ponderous, and he would go to The Curious if not but to follow a thread possibly linking back to the farm unwillingly torn from. But this respect mattered little in the face of what The Ponderous had done in its youth, bitterly argued the dwarf. He had been damned to this world by its hands and regret did not ¡®LOAD¡¯. He would do more than accept the reward--the dwarf would act obscenely to the ever scolding father in his head. If not bolted to the branches, the dwarf would take this shining beacon a mere skill increase away.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 45¡±


    Mounting the final platform of bundled nature, the dwarf stepped into and tumbled around a wood woven basket suspended in the air of the corpse of The Ponderous. For a moment he could not believe he had not fallen to an embarrassing death, one that would require a redoing of many tasks and performances. Then light forced his eyes shut, and he looked up and could see nothing. Betting on the integrity of the basket, the dwarf lay for long enough to nap even despite the infrequent strobe and, on waking, felt as if he were atop the church steeple. Nearly tipping over from an abyss into another, the dwarf caught himself, recalled his situation, and keep his eyes shielded from the next blinding. This required the same patience as the corpse demanded elsewhere, and the dwarf could think of nothing but the object. When the light again passed, the dwarf chanced his adjusted sight and looked up to find a multiple pronged ball no larger than his two thumbs attached to an extremely spindly branch. In darkness he leapt and could not read it. But intricate webbing of wood and leaf ahead encouraged climbing. The dwarf mounted it and, upon the next flash through pressed fingers, leapt.


    Sagging, the thin drooping branch snapped back into the air following the plucking of its contents: the dwarf held the pronged ball. Its arms retracted suddenly, and a dim glow emanated--far more agreeable than the unexpected flashes. He pocketed the pearl sized piece into his cowskin pouch and climbed over the edge of the suspended platform, jumping down to the nearest one lower. It was a humorously short drop from there.


    ¡°BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±

 CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

    Four further nights spent in the glass hotel as guest to whose deitree¡¯s corpse he robbed, the dwarf woke from sound sleep. Even having scrubbed himself before bed, he could not resist another bathhouse excursion. The dwarf whipped his freshly laundered ocean blue gi and tied it secure with obi gold as autumn, feet slipped into the pair of wood geta now quite gotten used to. Exiting the hotel off a wave to the clerk, he set off on an eight legged steed of similar but smaller size to that of Paris, colors vastly red over black. They journeyed across familiar vines woven trough dirt, fresh morning above. The dwarf admired the fast craftsmanship of the barns--more pending. It filled him with pride seeing spiders scurrying about in the open, crawling up and down the construction, relaxing in the corners of the barnyard, and weaving designs all round. More, guards atop the ramparts guided their patrols on the back of arachnids already. He watched two nearly collide only for one to crawl away along brick and resume its route. If the settlement suffered of an insect problem before, they would soon not. It embarrassed the dwarf to be cited by Doetrieve as the inspiration for rolling out military mounting, a much mocked effort by Lord Moth, the elf claimed, but one the new captain hoped could mean the difference. Though the dwarf could not really discern what enemy Doetrieve would be prepping against except feral funguay, the spiders would be more effective in caves than horses, he could admit.


    Indeed the elfs did not seem to domesticate horse. He thought of other animals whose daily expected sights he missed with weary heart: the cow, the duck, the pig, the chicken. He¡¯d befriended many hybrids of swine and once fought enlarged egg spawn, but neither were quite what was remembered back home. The dwarf, atop a massive writhing arachnid, thought of the unnaturalness of his ride. It must have taken Doetrieve, the first of the elfs to befriend the spiders, an amount of bravery the dwarf could not have hoped to match in the same sandals.


    Having dined with the captain the night before, the dwarf did not see any reason to delay his journey back to the chapel in the mountains. He passed through the gate and bid goodbye to a sober Smucker and teetering Deertre. Soon arriving to the border of the forest, the unnamed mount of hardy proportions and strength rose to its master¡¯s reins and ascended up trees and onto the great sea of green and thick tanglings. By late afternoon the dwarf passed the mossy cottage, took the bag of coins he¡¯d been rewarded, emptied a handful into his cowskin pouch, and tossed the string tied rest against the doorstep, riding off for the steeple.


    Shoving aside stacked wood planks just barely blocking the way--enough room for a miniature funguay to enter and leave--the dwarf commanded his new steed sit and entered the dilapidated chapel alone. Hole above sealed in web--ceiling itself as well--hole beneath agape as ever, the brilliant sunset outside shined through stained glass of a spectrum of colors casting his flock in light. Waspig rushed the dwarf. Collapsed, the two embraced with the dwarf¡¯s heart tender, and he rose after to reconnect with the rest of his creatures. The clacking his sandals made on tile startled both him and them, and so he slipped them off to continue his affections. Tall, wide Pistol blocked an aggrieved Cath trapped as well behind equally wild haired Bathiel and heavily dripping Speedy. Mustard and Blissey, their appearances so similar, could hardly be picked apart as their snouts investigated his clothes; the dwarf needed know neither name to reciprocate. Lone albino Joshua was looked for and found towards the back of the chancel at the altar. The dwarf drew up acting as if to merely ¡®SAVE¡¯--in a flash his arms wrapped tight around the less than enthused recipient. But it did not struggle, and the dwarf released it soon after to make good on his initial intention.


    ¡°SAVING... SAVED.¡±


    The Ponderous One died in the blank sheets that followed. The dwarf turned round and became suspicious, though he could not place the feeling¡¯s origin. Red and green and purple and yellow silhouettes sat or stood around the nave--those which had not followed the dwarf to the back. Brushing the matted fur of Waspig, his eyes widened. No fungus grew. Looking over his creatures, not a one sported anything but their own hair and tusks and wings--those applicable. Without Funguayou for explanation, the dwarf was left to investigate and ponder. He completed his initial shove of the planks obstructing what once were double doors and allowed the red seeped spider inside, introducing it to the wasphogs one at a time (and Speedy), well aware the process would likely need repeating. The dwarf sealed the entrance and set off exploring the rest of the church for interlopers while the yet named arachnid began weaving in a corner. Followed by Waspig, Speedy, and Blissey, oddly, the dwarf searched hallways and study rooms and the kitchen and found no sign of spawn. But already in the last room, his depleted stomach demanded a thorough examination of the pantry, and he began to fry jarred vegetables.


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    ¡°COOKING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    His own hunger satisfied, the dwarf distributed fried greens to his flock, his mind though elsewhere. Indeed as he ate and as they ate, the dwarf decided a breaking away from the doctor¡¯s supply drops were necessary to ween off from the neighbor he wasn¡¯t certain he¡¯d want to see again. With the pilfered broccoli and corn seeds in his pouch, the dwarf slipped outside as the evening transitioned to night, and he walked the perimeter of the steeple with much attention paid to his feet, one step in geta at a time. The moon in full (and what was once mistaken for one) the heat of the night wore on the dwarf, and he determined many days of this world¡¯s summer ahead. He¡¯d been foolish, chastised the dwarf, and not asked elf nor funguay whether seasons were tracked, if a calendar existed at all. There was much the dwarf had taken for granted as a former farm boy. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Broccoli would surely be ineligible for planting--the dwarf thought it too hot. Even corn could be in danger if temperatures rose too high. He furrowed his brow at a lack of trading with the elfs--what strange crops did they have? The dwarf thought of the packet of seeds he¡¯d found beneath the mossy cottage with inexplicable representation attached. The dwarf would ask the elfs before Mallow. But he would not ride tonight, and he would not go anywhere without a long rest in the company of his animals. And so, back within the steeple, the dwarf blockaded the entrance once more and settled into a nook of creatures...


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 16¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 17¡±


    Muddied pickaxe in hand, the dwarf, before the sun would break the mist, set about ploughing. Outside his flock frolicked, Waspig and Bathiel buzzing around trees, Blissey and Pistol wrestling with a clear advantage to the girthier. Speedy trailed the slow moving dwarf, axe rising and falling, dirt breaking apart and occasionally mixing with mud. At this, though it pained him, the dwarf shooed Speedy off, for while it hurt to do so, crop failure would hurt worse. Rock piled disorderly as the dwarf navigated the earth.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 18¡±


    Having broken only someyards worth of soil, the sun rang in the afternoon and the dwarf retired beneath the shade of the sloped steeple roof. Across, the river passed through the alpines. He munched on an apple in the company of his companions, a sheen of sweat across his brow. The dwarf¡¯s hands vibrated in pain. He put his bald to the back of the wall and looked up at the glaring dot in the sky. What sun was it? Was it his? Where was he, really? The dwarf contemplated between bites of flesh and dribbling juice the circumstances of his arrival and the moon that met him at night. How had The Ponderous done it? A ravine opened and a man was swallowed. And now he inhabited a new world with familiar star and rock, outlier a pale blue planet on odd nights. But why did day and dusk feel so familiar? The dwarf could not grasp his transferring from one world to another, and he regret ¡®SAVING¡¯ after all, confident he could have obtained more from the deitree. Instead, the only path to answers lay far north in a bay reachable by boat only--a boat he could no longer afford. The dwarf regret his giving of any sum to Doctor Mallow. But he hated even more the idea of owing the funguay anything, and the two modes of thought conflicted throughout the rest of his meal.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 19¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 20¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 21¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 22¡±


    Evening found the dwarf splayed on his back, insects buzzing to be driven off by Waspig and co. Many more yards had been dug; it seemed to the dwarf he¡¯d still done too little. ¡®XP¡¯ as comfort, he wondered at what the thirtieth level would bring. He thought then too of the emerald chamber miles beneath the church and the stairway that would someday need digging. Well, as long as he had Waspig, he thought, a flight down could be repeatable. But then if the dwarf relocated so too would Waspig were it not commanded stay--alone in a dark cavern connected to a ruin lived in by horrors the dwarf did not wish to imagine would they be anything like the dream eater. No--he would need to eventually mine into the hole and create a spiraling stairway downwards. The dwarf gazed upon what small work he accomplished throughout the day as he thought this, disheartened by the weeks it would surely take for the project. He tossed his apple core, caught and consumed mid flight by Mustard...


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 23¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 24¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 25¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 26¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 27¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 28¡±


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 29¡±


    Many days passed and the provisions stored in the pantry began to dwindle, and Funguayou attempted no supply run in the interim. The dwarf could not break--he would sooner mount his arachnid back to the elfen settlement for support, and he did. Off in the morning, there by the late afternoon and greeted heartily by Captain Doetrieve and new barns, the dwarf returned to the steeple in the evening with fresh bread, assorted fruits and nuts, crispy, strange alien snacks, and even more seeds--not broccoli nor corn alone but beetroot and ¡®steelroot¡¯. While visiting he indeed posited seasons and the captain confirmed them: vapr, swet, chil, and slet. The dwarf got the gist. He was also offered pigsect--he declined.


    Riding through the night, the dwarf returned to the chapel and slept fast...


    A fungus headed bird strafed above the dwarf, his rusted pickaxe poised. Before it could come down, the dwarf sensed an approaching figure. His animals continued to graze and buzz unabated, thus the dwarf assumed no inbound malice. Regardless the thick fur dominating his skin straightened themselves and his beard began to itch. The recognized visitor having completed its journey, he was addressed:


    ¡°I have come to teach you faith.¡±

 CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

    ¡°FARMING SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 1¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    By the end of the day, the dwarf had planted half his corn and, conservatively, a portion of broccoli, dedicating a much smaller portion of ploughed earth to beetroot while, on advice of Doetrieve, waiting until sleet to plant steel. Thanks to the captain¡¯s generosity (and, unbeknownst, Doctor Mallow¡¯s), the dwarf came into many more seeds. What once preserved vegetables in glass found new employment as vault, only to be unsealed at the dwarf¡¯s next mining. In the same kitchen, the dwarf produced a bowl and, outside, fished it through the rushing river parallel to the crops, watering them. He ensured moist soil, careful to avoid overdoing the process in regards to beetroot. And the dwarf recalled grave advice given by Doetrieve: allow not the steelroot a single day of sunshine, only snow.


    The dwarf glanced again at the roaring stream. He wondered if he couldn¡¯t manage crude irrigation--less effort than a bowl on completion, but more to first accomplish. Such effort would require the use of exhausted muscles and the dwarf, sun setting on his skin, lost enough interest to delay the effort another day.


    Saturated blue gi disrobed, submerged and wrung, the dwarf hung his laundry on branches and allowed himself a wade, Waspig following. The dwarf submerged his head and reveled in the cold. He wondered if he himself was a steelroot. Beard rising from beneath the waves to whip the dwarf¡¯s face, he recovered to witness Waspig¡¯s cleaning beneath starlight. When they had first entered the river, the rest of the flock waited apprehensively at its edge. But having watched their master and compatriot share a bath, temptation ruled their hearts and the animals, barring Joshua and Speedy, rushed to receive their cleaning. The dwarf, though tired, did not resist. If anything he was relieved he could do something about the church¡¯s declining smell.


    So startlingly white, Joshua no doubt groomed regularly, theorized the dwarf. Speedy, however, exceedingly filthy, did not appear remotely interested in cleanliness. For the next visit to the elf settlement the dwarf would research a mudkip¡¯s hygiene, he decided. He thought these things splashing back onto land, dripping past crops and clothes and laying on warm grass. The wind too was as warm as it¡¯d been all week and, according to the captain, would continue for many more months before the end of swet. Yes, the dwarf understood summer¡¯s replacement very well by the hard toil performed under such blistering heat. While he reflected on the temperature, his animals gathered to shore slowly save Blissey, preoccupied. And while the dwarf wished to rest his eyes, he had kept his guest waiting long enough. Rising dry, he approached and entered the church, remains of door in days past unhinged and set aside. His animals followed--save Blissey--and the dwarf tread singed, unraveling carpet across the nave and towards the back where Doctor Mallow waited atop an uncomfortable seeming stool.


    ¡°Dwarf... you are without clothing once more.¡±


    The dwarf felt a little embarrassed.


    ¡°I see you have been tidying up the place somewhat. He is pleased, I am sure of it. Continue your work in earnest and you will be rewarded as you will be now, for we shall begin our faith training. Are you ready?¡±


    But the dwarf protested in favor of a meal having skipped lunch. The many arms of Doctor Mallow from beneath its wide cap folded in pairs.


    ¡°So long as you provide hospitality.¡±


    Forced to share the captain¡¯s gifts--for the dwarf was unwilling to settle for just vegetables again--he and the funguay broke bread and sipped fresh river water from polished brass. The bread was delicious, the dwarf¡¯s eyes watering at the salt and separation between his teeth. Doctor Mallow, in contrast, did not seem impressed and made comments of his superior loaves. It did enjoy the nuts as did the dwarf, and raisins were tolerated by the former, loved for a nostalgic taste by the latter. While he reveled in the gifted baked goods, the dwarf understood a growing need for meat and its nutrients. The dwarf knew he could not bring himself to slaughter any of his flock--circumstances were not so desperate. But, focused on farming, the dwarf yet hunted. Busy, but the dwarf knew all the same he did not wish to push himself to engage in an act he did so little as boy and man. He recalled the struggle for survival many moons ago within the digesting stomach of a frog and the rage he had doled. Unfaced guilt ate him. But he remembered the taste and let saliva build. Noticing, he stuffed his mouth with more bread.


    The dwarf understood the unspoken topic suspended above he and the funguay and did not know how to reconcile it. A great portion of his stout form hated Mallow. He hated not only its act in allowing spores infect his creatures but the lack of apology, mention at all. The funguay appeared to not think anything of what had obviously been noticed by the dwarf given the number of days in which fungi were sustained. It arrived for whatever reason on business of ¡®FAITH¡¯ and the dwarf could not shut the opportunity out to learn more. Far beneath the steeple the dream eater once waited before its demise by what Mallow now came on business of. He decided his enraged feelings would be better placed aside like the seeds he¡¯d sealed.


    Doctor Mallow knelt facing the wood planks far and ajar of the entrance. Its two eyes closed. Many hands clasped with exception of a gesture downwards, and the dwarf dropped, knees on cool tile--the only way he¡¯d been able to sleep here. Doctor Mallow held a silence the dwarf could not seem to puncture, and so the two remained quiet for an extended period. Stars shifted over them and the animals inside. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    At first the dwarf sat clear headed. His thoughts settled on the digesting meal. He did want meat. The dwarf held the recalled taste back and refocused on the farm. He and his father had endured crop failures; the dwarf would do all he could for his crops and hope for their enduring. He became grateful for the river beside, the task of irrigation all the harder without. Appropriately, mud tracked in from dead ahead based on the sudden slick paws slapping against tile. Eyes maintained shut, the dwarf heard--to his best guess--not Speedy but the return of wet Blissey, it almost certainly having showered after onto its gathered companions. The dwarf began to track all the various steps that crossed the emanating floor and softened on carpet, the buzzing throughout the air with differences in verticality. He thought of his first encounter with Waspig, the two locked in battle finding death at the bottom of a hole no more than a few feet away. Discovering the many hogsects and pigbugs within the feral funguay cave continued to warm the dwarf¡¯s heart. But on topic of funguay, he remembered the fungi, and he became again angry with Doctor Mallow.


    Furrowed brow, sweat felt sliding, the dwarf fought within himself to quell the anxiety and discontent as result of Mallow¡¯s infecting of his flock. He despised the funguay beside him. He despised Funguayou, complacent, subservient, illegitimate offspring. He grimaced at the thought of the ferals feeding on his flock, and the dwarf decided he cared little for funguay. It was not the elfs that had betrayed the dwarf, he argued, but the cap headed. The doctor had merely projected its awful intentions onto a susceptible dwarf. And where had all the spawn gone? The dwarf, in attempt to cool his temper, appreciated the funguay coming to him rather than demanding his presence at the cottage. In fact, he begun to feel another round of surprise emerge; why had the doctor come? Evidently the gold pleased it, but the amount was a little less than the cost of chartering a ride across the sea; it was not what Locust had delivered. And, as the former captain¡¯s suspended corpse hung in the dwarf¡¯s mind, he realized he¡¯d not given much thought to the dead elf. It was The Ponderous One which weighed heavy on his mind, The Ponderous which he killed by ¡®SAVING¡¯. In the burst of those blank pages, Locust¡¯s fate too had been sealed.


    Slowly the dwarf realized his brow had lightened and his skin felt cool. His breath passed effortlessly through cartoon nostrils, and the dwarf resumed the collecting of his thoughts around Mallow. Did it feel guilt? Was the gold insufficient but balanced by its own actions towards the flock? The dwarf frowned. He had once been forcibly host to a parasite which grew to be Funguayou. As far as he could ascertain, his dwarfen body had not suffered any short term effects. Could his future be different? Would anything happen to his animals? Though Waspig once unwittingly played incubator itself, bandits took to his beloved pet before any repercussions could manifest. The dwarf recalled his assault on their held church and the resulting capture of its criminals. But the dwarf banked only on their being wanted, and began to worry many of the captured would be turned loose back out onto the wilds. He resolved then to not travel without ¡®SAVING¡¯, never allowing a fall into the clutches of an ambush himself. And, perhaps, he would steal a couple more spiders from the elfs and allow them the plains church to themselves. The dwarf¡¯s eyes nearly opened to glance up at the ceiling of white web made worse by the introduction of Paris and the dark, yet named arachnid. He recalled ¡®Tuskus¡¯, the once given title to the spawn of Waspig and Mallow. The dwarf began grappling air.


    Why had the doctor come? The dwarf could not find himself in any camp with regards to its reasons. If he asked, would the lessons in ¡®FAITH¡¯ cease? He would have to relent, the dwarf admitted, to becoming a participant in its lack of acknowledgment--he would mention coin nor parasite without the funguay¡¯s own introduction. Until then, the dwarf resolved to remain as silent on these mysteries as he maintained in the cool space between them.


    Though his posture shifted through changes while the funguay remained motionless, the dwarf felt threatened by sleep. Indeed, mind so worn, topics so hammered, he considered himself susceptible to drifting off, and shut eyes did not help. With the hours that had certainly passed, the dwarf acknowledged he¡¯d been put into a test, and the dwarf, thinking of the dream eater, would not fail it. He began digging his fingernails into his hands. He bit his lip. The aching of his stiff form and labor throughout the week joined fresh pain and the dwarf shot awake, focused and alert. The dwarf examined the ¡®test¡¯ and considered what the funguay wanted from the aching dwarf: could he actually be failing it? Was the goal to speak out? But he, a frequent visitor to the church as a boy regardless of input, knew well what prayer was and did not believe Mallow wished for anything other than communication with a god. Was He the same? The dwarf had considered it once before. How could the sun and moon so familiar orbit anything but ancient faith? But the blue orb of singular dotted green high in the air was no fixture from his days on the farm. It was clear, at least, Mallow did not worship deitrees like the elfs. No, the doctor gleefully stabbed in the back--but could it to God? It appeared to the dwarf a certain inclination had already been assumed but, vile imagery of deteriorating skull and flesh immovable, the dwarf would not reveal his ignorance. He would learn ¡®FAITH¡¯.


    Vision black grew to a lightening of translucent flesh. Over hours the oppressive darkness of the dwarf¡¯s own sight illuminated, and he felt more than heard the doctor beside rise. One of its hands took a quick tug at his beard, and the dwarf understood to follow but remain blind. Careful steps guiding him forward, the dwarf stopped at three arms blocking his path and felt the rich warmth of sunlight over his bare skin. Still with eyes inoperable, he realized potatoes with Waspig had once been eaten where he and the funguay stood. Time continued to pass but, unlike facing the nave, the dwarf hoped the funguay would keep its silence forever; heat so invigorating, he could not bear to think of abandoning the spot. But the silence broke.


    ¡°I am impressed, dwarf. You did move around unquestionably, unable to assume perfect form, but your heart focused itself, did it not? Well, have you done it? Has peace come to you?¡±


    The dwarf, eyes revealed, did not especially feel his concerns resolved. But, so satisfying the spot was, the dwarf nodded.


    ¡°It appears so. Continue to speak to Him. I will return in three days time. Should you require anything sooner, return to the cottage when possible. It is looking certainly better.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s face felt hot. Because he¡¯d vowed to never return beneath the mossy roof, he¡¯d not given any real thought to the disastrous state of the home as the dwarf left it. And yet the doctor mentioned this neither. What drove such a funguay? Why would it return, no less invite the dwarf back? The dwarf, soon splayed across tile, soaked in the growing warmth while his thoughts drifted to welcome slumber...


    The next day, the dwarf brought his pickaxe down upon the earth again.


    ¡°MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 30¡±


    ¡°MINING MILESTONE 1 REACHED¡±


    ¡°DRILL TECHNIQUE APPLIED¡±

 CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

    Spiders returned to the church on the plains under command of dwarf. Though no bandit had been by nor left evidence suggesting such, the dwarf was wary. In traveling between blank bibles the dwarf lunged for a loose stave and held it poised for action. None met him, of course, and he crept from the doors to hike to the elf settlement. On return, a lazy afternoon greeted he and the three rehomed arachnids. The dwarf¡¯s behind bumped satisfyingly atop the freshly made saddle, one of now many. In his cowskin pouch were more steelroot seeds, nuts, and frog legs. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he hoped off and began chewing dried toad. His eyes watered as they¡¯d done two days previous beside Doctor Mallow.


    Inside the once desecrated steeple, the dwarf shut the intact doors and gestured for a single spider to accompany a venture. Its red frame trailed the dwarf into the hallway adjacent, and the dwarf realized a near exact design to the church in the mountains minus its unique decorations of blood and hay. A room of straw and blankets filled one room, empty shelves in another. The steeple featured a kitchen as well, and the dwarf could not restrain saliva as he approached the pantry.


    Pickled somethings awaited the dwarf, light illuminating the foreign but certainly edible objects inside teal juice. There were bags of potatoes--a massive victory not only for the dwarf but the pigsects who¡¯d all nearly eaten through their kibble. But of most surprise was the bent shield below the shelves. Rimmed in bronze, middle mahogany, the dwarf turned the plate in his hands. Each bandit having been caught in Paris¡¯ webs with weapons drawn, the dwarf had found nothing of use left behind up until the bent discovery. Truthfully he struggled to think up a use. A shield was a shield, he concluded. Heroes in pulp readings held their defensive arms up against even the fiery breath of dragons. But something else twanged within him: it was indeed defensive arms, and the dwarf secretly wished to find no weapon. The dwarf thought suddenly of the hunting he¡¯d considered the night of the doctor¡¯s visit. To do so would require more lethal means than a disk.


    Behind the bronze lined loot was a belt the dwarf gradually identified as a shield strap. Despite the addition of weight to the back of his blue gi, the dwarf¡¯s physical form carried it well. It had felt good in his hands for the moment he looked it over; was it the wrong size for humans?


    The dwarf sat on a pew. He gazed upon the targets of hay stuffed with arrows. He counted the skulls pinned to walls, penetrated by poles, dangling from the tall ceiling crawling with arachnids. Many other pews had been destroyed, and it seemed human spillings soaked a great deal of furniture as well as the book itself. But the dwarf thought how curious it was they¡¯d left the book at all. The dwarf approached it.


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?¡±


    The dwarf attempted to lift the bible from the lectern. Both hands gripped, it did not budge. His simple question gained a simple answer.


    ¡°WOULD YOU LIKE TO RELOCATE?¡±


    Back at the church of his flock, the destruction left in the wake of the dream eater did not seem so dissimilar to that of the plains. Though the dwarf had seen to some cleaning within the steeple, the work amounted to shoving oneself against piles to the walls, a trimming of sorts, mahogany instead shattered tiles. It pleased Mallow, a comfort for the dwarf hopeful to gain more insight into ¡®FAITH¡¯. To its word, the doctor would return tomorrow. As the current crops grew, the dwarf decided to throw himself about relieving the church of its trash entirely. While he¡¯d considered repurposing the hoards of scrap and glue, it was all just that. Some pews escaped with light damage and could be restored. But the majority of the dream eater¡¯s destruction required removal entirely; it was a relief the flock had not hurt themselves upon any of it and a shock all had lasted long as they did so dilapidated. With the portable wheelbarrow left behind, he snapped it into usable state and began filling it for the first of many rounds.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The sun sank to the sea before the city before the church on the plains. A great distance away up past the elf settlement and great forest, the dwarf finished the last of his hauling efforts. He¡¯d brought wooden scraps of all sizes outside up against the back of the church like firewood. What he saved and hid elsewhere could be split into two categories: fodder and true garbage. The former he left to the side of the chapel¡¯s entrance, wood then on three sides, and the latter within one of the rooms already occupied by debris. Better in storage than sight, argued the dwarf. Stars began showing. He awarded the duty of further digging to the following day.


    A great part of the dwarf, of course, yearned to know what the recently netted  ¡®MINING¡¯ milestone meant. A part of him considered the implication of a ¡®DRILL TECHNIQUE¡¯ and naturally compared it to ¡®ADRENALINE¡¯. If the latter made his legs blue from overuse, the same would likely be true again. But having worked so hard over the week with so little area ploughed, the dwarf thought himself willing to consider. Even so, his body ached enough to stay his hand for now. The dwarf would reassess in time...


    Throughout the day the dwarf worked; his flock had entered and left the church at will all the while, and the dwarf wondered what modification to the future doors would be necessary. He¡¯d never carried much an inclination for woodworking nor did his father push the hobby, but the necessary tools and blueprints nonetheless could be found at the farm. The dwarf lost himself in these thoughts on break within the comparatively cooler steeple, outside warm as expected. A great squealing snapped him awake. The dwarf burst past the empty doorway and towards the river where distress loudly continued. He arrived to watch a great frog emerge from the river of as mighty a size as what once swallowed him whole. Its tongue shot and took Mustard hostage, gone in seconds. The dwarf¡¯s eyes lit fire, and the frog turned to face the intruder stomping and wading. Its tongue arrived onto the dwarf¡¯s drawn shield, and he felt its great pull as he shot into the beast. Freed, he crashed onto a slick tongue and found not only Mustard but sibling Blissey buzzing around haplessly.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 38¡±


    Soothing the scared pigsect, the dwarf made a move to climb aboard before realizing its smaller size than that of Waspig would result in its crushing. He silently appreciated how well paired he and the absent pet were. Frog bouncing, the two were thrown around while Blissey continued to lap air. As the dwarf fell and rose, fell and rose again, he unstrapped his shield and readied his arm. Activating ¡®DRILL¡¯, the shield blasted from his throw and smashed into the uvula, bursting apart on impact, bronze ring sailing. The uvula visibly dented in what light suddenly filled such dank conditions, and violent coughs sent the three out back into the river. Regaining his senses, the dwarf approached the deflated frog.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 11¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 12¡±


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 13¡±...


    Several hunks of pew gained flames, the dwarf¡¯s ¡®SURVIVAL¡¯ rising in one level. Rather than drag the corpse out to the kitchen, he would cook it the same as he had once before. Waspig and its fellow creatures gathered around crackling flames beneath the moon--save Blissey, blissfully splashing--and watched their master cook, two levels gained in the respective skill as well. Having been employed once again, Waspig aided the dwarf in the detaching the defeated to dinner. The dwarf maneuvered through these processes with no particular feeling, his body acting autonomously. The first bite he ate following the frog¡¯s roast loosened his tears in greater expel than the dried meat from Doetrieve. His flock looked on curious but with limited attention, and so they returned to their feast. Energy restored itself within the dwarf¡¯s body as the last of the flames snuffed, he then laying his frame down, dented bronze in hand, fire dried fur on all sides. Together the dwarf and his creatures drifted off to a sleep the sun would not see.

 CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

    A hard rain summoned the dwarf and his pets inside the steeple. After sealing off the roars of wind with a shove of stacked planks (a solution he had begun to grow very tired of), the dwarf made a head count of his animals, coming up satisfied. He slipped out from his drenched clothes and went to hang them--where? Reliance on tree branch became apparent to the dwarf. Looking up, the dark spider crawling along the sealed ceiling (for the hole remained in web) brought him to whistle, an unintended effect bringing to halt the dripping flock as well. Variation in tone would be necessary, he concluded.


    The dwarf would not reuse Tuskus. So smooth its fine ebony hair, absent all other color, he opted to dub the near spider Night Sailor. It was as learned as any other arachnid involved in the plot against Locust. Thus, when the dwarf gestured and produced the high pitch obeyed by pigsect, it, clamoring down stained glass sopped in rain, shot a load of silk from one panel to another. A stool would be required of the dwarf, but he nonetheless appreciated the move with a celebratory head rubbing and searched the room of debris. Back, his wet blue gi and equally soaked gold obi soon dripped from up high, sandals slipped off. The dwarf¡¯s feet dried on what remained of the red rolled carpet, hesitating at the blank bible. Something unnerved the staring dwarf, errant thought unable to justify wet with suicide. ¡®XP¡¯ earned the day prior would not only demand recollecting (of which he enjoyed the aches in its aftermath): a frog would be yet eaten, a stomach yet filled. Not only was a reload out of the question, the dwarf felt fear at the cheapening of his own life. There of course was gratefulness. Had the dwarf never ¡®SAVED¡¯, he and Waspig would be dead at the bottom of a well. But if he thought so flippantly of his own life, could he maintain the struggle to live that guided him thus far? So many dwarfs had come and gone in the training of elf livestock. He¡¯d truthfully not kept track and could not remember how long he¡¯d been in this world. He felt lost.


    A hurried knocking at the planks of wood shocked the dwarf from his trance and sent him to undo the blockade amidst the complaints of his flock. Doctor Mallow rushed in from the storm.


    ¡°Dwarf... no clothing.¡±


    The dwarf couldn¡¯t decide whether or not to be embarrassed. He felt worse about leaving the funguay out in the downpour and strange for feeling that way at all.


    ¡°The wrath of heaven is upon us... you are familiar with it, aren¡¯t you? It is where He lives.¡±


    The dwarf blinked and processed. Having already come to the conclusion of its worshiping no deitree, it seemed as if he¡¯d just heard a confirmation of the religion his own self had been raised in. But it still seemed impossible the funguay could be speaking of God.


    ¡°I speak of God.¡±


    The dwarf was silent.


    ¡°Up in Heaven He lives. Out of clay He formed us... funguay. And you, dwarf. And the elfs, fishfolk, even humans. It is said He wears a wide cap across his head of colors unfathomable. His many wonderful arms are how He aids all His children. But I¡¯m sure to you, dwarf, He is something different.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    To the dwarf, He had been time away from his animals.


    ¡°Whatever He may look like, you must think of Him if you¡¯ve any hope of learning faith. Do you see Him?¡±


    The dwarf only remembered the empty seats always between his father and the rest of the congregation.


    ¡°Focus. Your mind must be at peace. Must we endure another silent night?¡±


    But the dwarf¡¯s face fell. He began to resent the funguay¡¯s coming, thought less and less of ¡®FAITH¡¯ by the second. For what use, argued the dwarf, would such knowledge be above ground? The dwarf did not wish to explore the ruin of his swindled ancestors and tangle with worse than the eater, if not a second despite the assurances otherwise. And he certainly beheld no apparition from one steeple to the next no matter how many ¡®SAVES¡¯ he loaded. So why not have the doctor thrown out? Why tolerate Mallow any longer? But though the dwarf could not will logic in its defense, he hesitated at an exile. No, realized the dwarf, in a world so dangerous, every advantage needed having.


    Moonlight through silk panned and cast a deep shadow beneath Mallow. Its cap soaked up the luminescence basked in and shone as a result. In such a majestic moment of a figure so reviled, the dwarf¡¯s eyes widened in acceptance of a truth he¡¯d known all along.


    ¡°You look to have arrived at peace,¡± declared Doctor Mallow. ¡°Now shut your eyes and listen to Him speak.¡±


    But while the funguay¡¯s lids shut, the dwarf remained observant. He looked at Waspig. He looked at Pistol, Bathiel, Cath, Blissey, Mustard, Joshua, Speedy, and the newly named Night Sailor.


    ¡°Feel your heart swell with His love.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s heart did swell.


    ¡°Channel your passion for Him into thine hands like taut rope,¡± the doctor instructed. At this it allowed its eyes open and beheld blinding light crawl upon the dwarf¡¯s flesh and bleed from his hands. The dwarf¡¯s own eyes gaped, but he anchored his anxiety in the potential for this power; the love of which his ¡®FAITH¡¯ stemmed. The two of them indeed watched gold rise from the dwarfs sure grip. A part of the dwarf stayed keenly aware for messages announcing a level in the activity, but none came no matter the length grown. It was only as the dwarf felt a tightening in his heart and agony in his fingers that he released his hold on the braided whites and yellows lost to the ceiling air. The dwarf breathed heavy.


    ¡°Impressive. Your faith in Him is astounding. I don¡¯t say it lightly. Practice this. I will return next week.¡±


    Before the dwarf could stop it, the doctor excused itself from the chapel. Squeezed past boards, it left behind a stunned dwarf and his confused flock. Night still enduring, the dwarf rested with his back against tile. Though he¡¯d not performed anywhere near a feat the same as wrangling undead, the dwarf had summoned gold to his hands the same way as his tutor. And no matter how complex his feelings towards it were, the dwarf accepted much more could be learned--he could not spend future lessons stewing in his hatred.


    But the doctor was wrong. The dwarf held no ¡®FAITH¡¯ in ¡®Him¡¯. Threaded holy light formed from his own sure hands, the dwarf had realized a concept closer to home.

 CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

    Four days before Doctor Mallow would arrive as scheduled to monitor its pupil¡¯s training in ¡®FAITH¡¯, the pupil, atop Waspig, glided across a sunlit trail to the mossy cottage. Familiar trees and rock walls rushed by both sides, hot wind against the dwarf¡¯s beard the while. He flared his nostrils absorbing as much of air he could regardless. Waspig grunted and bounded out from its flapping to hoofing. But just before the point in which the trail ended and the entrance to Doctor Mallow¡¯s home awaited, the dwarf commanded a sharp turn, he and his mount then due for the mysteriously unexplored west.


    Long the dwarf had considered the diversion in the road. But so swallowed by the elfen conflict and physical recovery, entering could be paid no mind then. With Locust hung and Doetrieve crowned--conspirators locked up--the dwarf felt satisfied in his flock¡¯s relative safety. What would come for him? With his limbs at near recovery, restless, he took off with Waspig at once, warm sun on dry clothes, cowskin buckled. And, thought the dwarf, with continued devotion to ¡®FAITH¡¯, of which he practiced nightly, he would be all the stronger a guardian for his animals.


    Land mountainous and without maintenance, the dwarf considered his choice in flight lucky. Much of the road had become undone by boulders and overgrowth. And above, the sky grew to a rough gray, warm light gone cold. The dwarf braced for rain and instead felt a flurry in Waspig¡¯s rush. His beard caught frost, and the dwarf became aware of a dark purple hue the earth had transitioned towards. Grass grew silvery as did hang the leaves from ancient boughs. The dwarf, though thankful for his gi, frowned. Snow was not inherently a flawed concept. But every winter at the farm welcomed with grimace his father¡¯s impotent rage. Crops died in this season--late plantings could mean no harvests and less capital. And sometimes they did everything right; the crops failed. The dwarf knew capital. He had little of it stashed away beneath his mattress, the one place his father wouldn¡¯t overturn. What little profit was made off the farm the dwarf¡¯s father whittled away on vices, and years defined by crop failures saw no change in spending.


    But how could it snow during the season of swet? The dwarf did not play coy with himself: this was summer; how could temperatures drop so low? Caught in his questioning, the dwarf only then realized how slow Waspig buzzed. But no alarm needed calling: Waspig only found fascination with the cold crystals falling in various size and shape. The dwarf, easing his pet low to the ground, scooped a handful of snow and dribbled it atop its head which began snapping to lick. The dwarf laughed.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 38¡±


    What would his father¡¯s ¡®HUSBANDRY¡¯ be? Did he ever love his livestock? The darker and grayer the clouds became, the deeper the dwarf plunged in self reflection. Why did his father ever farm at all? ¡°Because mine did,¡± was the remembered maxim. The dwarf hadn¡¯t met his grandfather, but he could only assume he¡¯d say the same. The dwarf wondered if the skill would decrease with poorer treatment of animals, though he harbored no intent of testing. In a trance until Waspig¡¯s snorting of a snow topped pinecone, the dwarf glanced around and observed a massive distance between he and the city upon the sand, every biome between distinguishable but clouded in heavy mist. The altitude had been rising as well, the dwarf came to understand, and he stopped Waspig momentarily for the two to rest and adjust. On this break the dwarf produced a dreaded wrapped mushroom loaf--he¡¯d gotten sick enough of apples to desire a change of pace. But the flavor was not altogether disagreeable. He offered a piece to his pigsect which declined hastily.


    Away from the cliffside the dwarf and his mount flew as the trail veered deeper inland. Purplish green grass bent beneath cold globs, silhouettes soon forming of pure white, shapes only guesses. Trees revealed their shrouded shaded insides. None carried a leaf. And the dwarf, blinking several times in recognizement, discovered the first relic of civilization: destroyed stone foundation. Indeed in a rectangle one could discern where a basement once supported stories--but no longer. To a complete stop came Waspig, and the dwarf glanced at the rest of the structures distinguished: he was in a small village. But there were many buildings and windmills. Few of the former supported roofs and the latter offered sad, shredded sails. All lay under a great smothering of snow. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Drawing close to a boulder built patio, the dwarf, dismounted, gently pushed an ajar door and entered followed by his mount. The air tasted a deep mixture of musty cold, as if the place exuded what once were residents. But it was clear to the dwarf from the abandoned, pathetic state of the inside--bookshelves toppled and picked clean, counters empty, doors smashed in--none had lived in such a space in quite some time. He traveled upstairs and found, at best guess, a bedroom, snow on every surface, sky above dark under a barely perceptible sun. The dwarf returned downstairs having to drag a curious Waspig away from the weather and hesitated before exiting. Another house attempted a scavenge inside ended in the same state. One more building fell to the dwarf¡¯s search and he left cold. But it did not frustrate the dwarf to discover no loot. Instead, he wracked his mind at the bizarre state of the weather indeed. While the view from the cliffs proved impressive, they were not a great deal higher than that of where the cottage hid. How could such frost fly? And he hoped an answer could be found in at least one structure.


    Through his persistence the dwarf appeared within a building of unique atmosphere. The difference between outside and inside was balmy. Waspig appeared especially perturbed. When the dwarf pushed forward within the ruin, his pet remained behind at the entrance. It was not as if it would be missing much, thought the dwarf. And many empty, trashed rooms proved him right. But one door gave resistance, and the dwarf realized a lock. He paused, licked his teeth, furrowed his brow, and gave way to a smile as his fishing hand produced a lockpick from his pouch.


    ¡°LOCKPICKING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    Storing the tool back in cowskin, the dwarf¡¯s heart seemed to jump. Nothing as far as he could discern had changed. But, hand trembling, he turned the knob and pulled it clean off its brass. He smiled again and became conscious of multiple smiles in so short a time. Was he adjusting to this world? The dwarf¡¯s thought processes ceased, fingers through the door handle¡¯s hole, as a wet smacking set his hair straight. The room halfway entered was especially without light save what shone past the dwarf. The smacking grew into an agonized spitting and dribbling as if a bucket of paint were being sloshed and spilled. A harsh gnarled whisper rang the dwarf¡¯s ears but he could not determine from where. He began to back up and slid into Waspig. Yelping, the pained expulsion of liquids turned violent and with volume. Back before the door with no knob, it swung into place. Noise behind its weak seal increased and wet slaps against stone resounded. The door creaked and a humanoid with some inches on the dwarf, one arm half raised, staggered. Its skin was a sickly splotchy imitation of the grass outside. Its limbs were mangled. Its head lacked a chunk of cranium, exposed skin and decayed muscle causing the dwarf¡¯s throat to dry. The shambling figure howled and lunged and the dwarf was on his back kicking and screaming. Assailant atop, own eyes frantic, they landed on a leg of an overturned table the dwarf ripped from brittle nails and shattered against the bored skull.


    ¡°MELEE INCREASED TO 14¡±


    The zombie (for the dwarf could think of no other description) moaned and continued another advance by the time the dwarf had risen. He watched Waspig penetrate the undead¡¯s chest. But the stinger receded and the dead continued. It took flight under the low roof and spun around fast enough to catch the uncaring zombie stinger first. Puncturing and blasting its head apart, the dwarf fought another wave of nausea. At sight then of the still lumbering figure the dwarf let loose the full stores of his mushroom loaf. Backing up against a crumbling wall the dwarf eyed Waspig fluttering in confusion. The dwarf kept his sight fixed to his creature and away from the hulking headless menace, and he shut his eyes. They opened to gold glittering rope. The dwarf formed a lasso from a length of ever stretching supplies and whipped it across the sickly colored humanoid sending it reeling backwards. The dwarf sent again the rope out atop the undead assailant and hopped aboard a lowered Waspig--together they glided through the dilapidated explored halls of the ruin and out under the snow heavy clouds above. Animated corpse dragged to the flurry outside, if it were only sunny, complained the dwarf.


    In the freezing onslaught of cold the dwarf quietly congratulated himself for how coolly he received the abomination. In a way, he felt thankful to the deceased dream eater; he was prepared for anything.


    Galloping home, zombie trailing all the while by holy rope, the snow cleared by the point of arriving just past the mossy cottage. In its wake was the very sun which greeted the dwarf at the start of his day, bidding then farewell, the undead smote as goodbye. Indeed its flesh burst into flames and the rope dissolved. Ash joined the warm wind becoming indeterminate, and he and his pet rode home.

 CHAPTER SIXTY

    On the following day a bright bursting sun welcomed the dwarf to the trail, Waspig buzzing. But such a sight melted fast into mist the further up the dwarf rode. The two arrived at the village ruins much faster than the day previous, Waspig a less curious ride. Snowflakes danced on its fur and the dwarf¡¯s beard, and the intensifying of the flurry ushered the two indoors, finding themselves within the same location as that which the zombie had dwelled. Nervously the dwarf examined rooms the same as they¡¯d been, the zombie¡¯s lair saved last. The unlocked knob gave way and the dwarf smelled a worsening of the air. Far behind him at the entrance of the building--the dwarf decided apartments--rested Waspig. Above him, a ceiling held intact, but its second floor lay a poor mystery; below, wood. Around, walls still decorated were a surprise; this room had yet been plundered. He crept in, aware of the slipping light as the door behind sagged close. But with so little furniture, the dwarf did at least not anticipate another attack. He stepped back to open the door and the planks under his feet gave way plunging the dwarf through four more floors of wood, culminating in a waterlogged basement of basements.


    ¡°HEALTH LOW¡±


    The dwarf groaned. Would he have died if not for the shallow puddle? His back throbbed and complained of the immediate stress delivered, and he could argue nothing in his defense--why had he explored so carelessly? Why be separated from Waspig? Was this all a consequence of his carelessness towards life as a result of ¡®SAVING¡¯? Amid his relentless reflecting came metered splashing and moaning. The dwarf¡¯s breath returned to his lungs enough to force the rest of his pained body into motion, and he flipped over and plunged his beard without thought. Rising, the moans behind transitioned to angered grunts, and the dwarf without control of his limbs panicked. It wasn¡¯t a matter of death. Having ¡®SAVED¡¯ just before the ride, it would not be long to arrive back at the same snow topped town. But the imagined suffering and agony of a death by the undead¡¯s hands jolted adrenaline into his sudden functioning arms and legs, and they worked together in unison to swim his back against a corner. Blinking rapidly, the dwarf desperately forced an adjusting to the pitch black within. But with water so absorbent of the dominant color around, the dwarf saw only darkness. The zombie gurgled ahead.


    The door three stories above pounded and reverberated. Though no successful smashing could be overheard, the noise inadvertently drew the zombie away from the silent dwarf and towards the holes he left behind. Struggling, Waspig¡¯s effort nonetheless inspired in the dwarf¡¯s heart gratitude. Eyes shut, he focused his hands and produced between them a long length of golden glittering rope. What the dwarf held shined so brightly the damp room¡¯s silhouettes spelled out its origin: storage. And behind crates and floating barrels lay stairs. Though the door far above continued to receive poundings from Waspig, the dwarf regained the zombie¡¯s fickle attention with his sudden light.


    Arms shot up and out. The rotting figure staggered forwards. The dwarf stomped ahead and, soggy sandals in and out the filthy water, he whipped his rope across the zombie¡¯s face. It blasted backwards and the dwarf followed this attack with another, sending the mystical light fast against the undead repeatedly until its pulverized head gave way to limpness. It bobbed in the water lifelessly, and the dwarf, hands free of the dissipating gold, advanced to and up the stairs.


    ¡°ONE-HANDED SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ONE-HANDED SKILL INCREASED TO 2¡±


    Two floors remaining, the dwarf was startled at the round table in the center of what appeared to be another storage room--much smaller, a single rune mounted on low ceiling illuminating what appeared to once have cards played atop. The dwarf only guessed, but a likely gambled locket box left atop the table revealed a beaming piece of crystal. He opened his cowskin pouch and replaced a mushroom pancake with treasure. Some coins were also scooped and stolen. With no threats on the level, the dwarf continued across the room past empty crates and collapsed shelving and up the next set of stairs. WIth less than ten steps to climb a zombie tripped into sight and began rolling down. The dwarf threw himself off the side and collapsed atop the card table, it crushing under his weight and shaking loose the glowing etched rock from above atop the dwarf¡¯s bald dome. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°HEALTH LOW¡±


    Brainless undead lunging, the dwarf roared above Waspig¡¯s beatings and bashed the rune against its skull. It dropped to the ground and the dwarf continued until the rune was caked in rotted gore. The dwarf himself collapsed and breathed unsteady. He hadn¡¯t taken a look at the crates and barrels back down a level, he realized. He wished for a vial of red. The figure next to him began to rise and the dwarf, rolling to the side, brought his hands together and revealed holy threads. He bound the zombie, watched its flesh sing, and traveled downstairs past the lifeless bobbing corpse. One barrel, miraculously, possessed a potion--it was blue. And it being too big, the dwarf passed on its taking. But he considered returning another time for when blue would inevitably come to be needed, and this led the dwarf to remember the nearly crushed bottled health under the eyes of ferals. There were two bottles, in fact, and the dwarf chewed his tongue remembering his collapsing of their tunnel. There was another way in, but the dwarf needed to escape the series of basements first. Worse, he needed a health potion now.


    Up slowly the submerged floor and past that with the crushed card table, the shambling dwarf, amid ceaseless Waspig, found no undead. It agreed with him, given none chased his howl. But this didn¡¯t mean safety, he argued. Bloodied rune in hand, empty in the other, no vial of red found, the dwarf investigated. This floor appeared to be toilets with no piping and wide tubs for bathing. Wallpaper had either peeled or crisped, and miniature creatures longer than mice but stouter than rats scurried fast from one hole in the wall to the other. More shelves laid atop planks, and the dwarf glanced at their contents to find nothing in particular. Only one floor remained, but the dwarf rested a hand against stone and sucked deep breaths. Even the disgusting air he tasted nourished his body all the same, and the dwarf was desperate. So desperate, in fact, he descended back down to the table and retrieved the flattened mushroom loaf, unwrapping and stuffing its contents down his mouth. He laid down beside the hole and involuntarily nodded off...


    Awake, drool felt wet on the dwarf¡¯s feet. He at first assumed Waspig. But the door thumped as if in response, and the dwarf became painfully aware of nibbling. His gaze adjusted and he beheld a zombie feasting on his flesh. The dwarf screamed, kicking its head clean off. The body snapped menacingly towards the dwarf quickly advancing away. But with every other step came agony. Blood smeared against the planks tread clumsily, dwarf for the stairs. He tried to climb and slipped and slid. The headless undead took hold of the dwarf then and lifted him high in the air, smashing him against the wall repeatedly. No reverberation emitted; they were far below the surface. The dwarf struggled to produce anything holy. His brain so frantic, his lower half screaming, he could focus on nothing. The zombie tossed the dwarf through the air and he fell down his own hole, crashing into the thin water. The dwarf, shocked, only slowly became aware of his drowning. But he did not rise his beard away.


    ¡°HEALTH LOW¡±


    The dwarf knew what pulp taught: zombies infected. How his childhood comics and stories came to predict future threats, the dwarf could not reason. His mind could in fact do very little. Oxygen stopped in its supply and the dwarf¡¯s body attempted to regain control, ultimately powerless in the face of the dwarf¡¯s will. But his eyes bulged and his heart raced, and though the dwarf attempted to console his suicide with the comfort of returning, the dwarf wondered of comfort at all. Bubbles rushed out from his soon loudly emitting maw, and he went limp.


    Four stories beneath an abandoned ruin in a snow topped town of many, the dwarf lay dead.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±...


    After arriving to the apartments in little time, the dwarf dragged a damaged bedframe from its home to the once locked door. The dwarf stacked all he could find, even entering neighboring buildings for their potential weights. In the end a great pile of trash and rubbish stood between the dwarf and the door and, by extension, the undead.


    Perhaps the dwarf would inform Mallow and make it his issue. The dwarf went home and slept the rest of the afternoon and night away. Waking just once, the dwarf screamed at slime dripping onto his feet until realizing the hooved, antenna headed culprit.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

    A clouded morning witnessed the return of the dwarf to his fields. Not only did he inspect the seeded areas carefully assessing moisture but, with the aid of his rusted pickaxe, the dwarf ploughed through more netting further levels in ¡®MINING¡¯, even if it didn¡¯t really make much sense to him. Busy as well was he with scooping animal waste into crates assigned composting, along with other organic material found nearby. No Tryse had been spotted despite once a claim made otherwise regarding the chapel¡¯s land. Though so long past, the dwarf remembered: flared stem, blue petals. Were the latter thick or thin? And why couldn¡¯t he find any at all? But the dwarf could not will himself to call on Funguayou for advice. It was lucky enough, thought he, the doctor did not bring the illegitimate son on its visits--the next in two days.


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 4¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 6¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 7¡±


    With more planted, the dwarf imagined the great yield in the coming months; he¡¯d be depending on it. But, contrasted the dwarf, desperation was not quite true. With Doetrieve as captain, he doubted the elf would let him starve. But nonetheless wishing not to abuse his connection, the dwarf aimed for self sufficiency.


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 8¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 9¡±


    ¡°FARMING SKILL INCREASED TO 10¡±


    Having skipped lunch, the dwarf rested in the shade munching on mushroom loaf. Indeed the taste did not bother him so badly now. But he still yearned for apples and wondered why he¡¯d not spied any in the wild. Yet the dwarf had never particularly searched them out. Stirred into action by pure desire, he rose from his break beneath the roof of the steeple and crossed the river to explore trees within the nest of great towering rock topped with pine. He kept alert for amphibious assassins.


    Some fruit did hang from branches, but they were no apple. A round shape with multiple bumps and indents, various warm colors melting into one another, the firm thing received a squeeze; the dwarf imagined its flesh between his teeth. If Funguayou were present, he mused, it¡¯d know of the discovery¡¯s hypothetical safety. The dwarf could only otherwise test the fruit on his flock if not himself. Towards the former he was unwilling, but what of his dwarfen body, he mused. What did it matter if a poisoning followed? The dwarf just the day previous received such horrible agony from the feasting of the undead on his ankles that he could not imagine a worse pain or feeling. With resolve, the dwarf brought his teeth down onto the object of bumps and bruises and tore a chunk savagely, its juices dribbling down his cheeks and beard.


    It was delicious. The dwarf, in moments, lay dead.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    Having saved his ¡®FARMING¡¯ experience beforehand, the dwarf did not stir over the mercifully fast death. But the mysterious taste of the deadly fruit lingered. He could not even remember the symptoms as they came about--only that he reappeared in the chapel as relied upon. With one danger stricken, at least, the dwarf exited boldly back into the wilderness for further testing. He came upon red berries once spat--what would it have mattered had they killed him then? But the dwarf could not recall whether having ¡®SAVED¡¯ at the time, and he supposed himself grateful for his wariness when he couldn¡¯t afford not to be.


    Sun some few hours from its setting, a dwarfen eyebrow raised in response to a high hanging triangular fruit, sloped and aimed downwards. Its color changed with every blink. What was blue was not until it was yet again. The full spectrum of color traveled over its smooth skin, and the dwarf began climbing bark.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 46¡±


    The dwarf landed on his geta with a louder than usual clack. Eyes still stuck to the ever-changing fruit¡¯s hues, he gave it a bite. It was delicious. In moments, he lay dead.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    Stomping out from the steeple, the dwarf nearly came to blows with a nearby tree. It was The Ponderous One¡¯s memory that strangely stayed his fist. But how could two different fruits treat him the same? Again he considered the possible advice of Funguayou. The dwarf wondered why he tolerated the doctor¡¯s presence but not the illegitimate son. The former struck, the latter watched, he recalled. Was watching allowing? But it was not as if the dwarf cared much for Mallow; it was a necessary evil for ¡®FAITH¡¯. The dwarf thought of wooden planks collapsing beneath his sandals sucking him down four undead infested floors. If not for the doctor¡¯s training, what chance would he have had? But in the end he perished, the dwarf argued. What little advantage did ¡®FAITH¡¯ bring him in a world still intent on his death?


    Besides, thought the dwarf. Of the found fruit, Doctor Mallow could be asked...


    A third fruit lay gripped in the dwarf¡¯s hand. It seemed as if a mound of overflowing flesh, lumps raised over one another in a sickly pale color. The dwarf hesitated. Despite every assurance to himself of his return, every signal in the dwarf¡¯s body responded in the negative. He shut his eyes and forced the thing to his teeth.


    ¡°LOADING... LOADED.¡±


    The dwarf spent the rest of the day doing nothing in particular, casually collecting experience in ¡®ANIMAL HUSBANDRY¡¯ and filling his remaining snack sessions with mushroom loaf. The following morning the dwarf did not rise from tile, limbs exhausted from the day previous¡¯ plowing. The planks normally blocking the entrance granted a gap. On little pattering across the echoing floor the dwarf glanced at Funguayou. It gave Waspig and Pistol scratches behind the ears before appearing before him.


    ¡°Hey, buddy. Nice duds.¡±


    The dwarf relented and rose to lay his back against brick. Funguayou, stubby dwarfen limbs in action, came and continued standing.


    ¡°Sorry it took me so long to come back out here. Not like dad forbade it or anything. Been busy. You know what it¡¯s like.¡±


    The dwarf wasn¡¯t following.


    ¡°Your animals¡¯ animals, dwarf. Dad doesn¡¯t do anything for ¡®em. And they aren¡¯t allowed inside. So I¡¯ve to corral them and keep the things happy, but I¡¯m also responsible with cleaning up the place, since he doesn¡¯t have time for that either. You know, I was excited, truthfully, that one time. That straw covered spawn?¡± Funguayou laughed. ¡°Caring for a pet is one thing, a flock another. I¡¯ve got knowledge. But putting it into action... And get this, dwarf. He wants me to get a farm going, suddenly he¡¯s not content with mushroom loaf. Just another add-on to the pile, huh buddy? Hey, sorry again, I didn¡¯t mean to come here to whine. I do have some supplies. Care for an apple?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes lightened and he set to Funguayou the question regarding the fruits of his previous lives. But Funguayou only began laughing.


    ¡°You have to lick ¡®em first. Your saliva seeps through and neutralizes what kills you. Except that last one, the bumpers? Don¡¯t eat bumpers, dwarf. Waspig knows better. And it makes me happy to see ¡®im, and the rest of ¡®em, doing so well. They don¡¯t really need much, I guess. But when they¡¯re smaller and faster... I¡¯m doing it again. Hey, I can¡¯t stay for long, I really just wanted to get out to greet you, congratulate you. Yea, dad told me. Think you can do something about their funguay law? Well, if you can. Hey, really, I¡¯m happy to see you, Waspig. You too, Pistol. Bathiel. Alright, I better head back, or I¡¯m yelled at, again. Or, wait, you wouldn¡¯t happen to... No, sorry, it¡¯s nothing, dwarf.¡±


    The dwarf stretched and exited his slouch against the wall to go over and grab the lighter. Funguayou bowed. Herb inhaled and released, the illegitimate child of funguay and dwarf sprinted away down the trail back towards Doctor Mallow. On the following day, its father appeared at the steeple during the especially bright dawn. No words exchanged, the doctor approached the large Pistol and sauntered atop, dwarf¡¯s jaw unhinging.


    ¡°Come, dwarf. For today¡¯s lesson, we ride for the cold ruins of Omelette.¡±

 CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

    As Doctor Mallow hunched over his ill fitted mount, it could not help but glance at the dwarf with a look of envy.


    ¡°You must teach me what you have done to win a spider¡¯s heart sometime, stout one. It has been some time since I had means of transportation.¡±


    At the idea of Doctor Mallow possessing arachnids, no less infecting them with its spores, sent a shiver down the dwarf¡¯s spine--so did the snow. The two advanced up the frost bitten path a ways from the church and cottage and advanced towards the ruins far beyond the growing haze. While the dwarf did appreciate sharing the strange centralized weather patterns with another to check on his own sanity, the dwarf¡¯s stomach sank at they¡¯re coming at all. Having dealt with floors of undead, the dwarf did not need to guess what the funguay¡¯s intentions were involving ¡®FAITH¡¯.


    ¡°Sad sight, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked the doctor, gesturing at the snow covered ruins coming into view, many of their ceilings in the same state of collapse and disarray the dwarf had met before. ¡°I¡¯ve never known this town any other way since my coming some hundred years ago. Were you to ask me, this is the result of a curse. Not even my own faith can lift it. But not everything can be our problem, dwarf. What we are for...¡± it began, the two dismounting their rides to enter a very familiar building. ¡°What I am to reveal to you, today, is something perhaps as foul as the eater, which...¡±


    The funguay did not resume its unending speech, ostensibly unable to come to terms with the mass barricading the once locked door. The dwarf made effort to catch its eyes.


    ¡°Ah. Well. I want to know. Were you able to call upon His word?¡±


    The dwarf nodded. But Mallow evidently didn¡¯t believe him.


    ¡°Then it would behoove you to explain why you¡¯ve left the door in this state.¡±


    As the dwarf¡¯s beard began to give way to words, he realized it would not make sense to explain the floor¡¯s giving way--it technically never had. Only one other entity in the world knew the dwarf¡¯s strange secret. Or was this true, considered the dwarf. His shivering fists balled. He would make no response indicative of ¡®LOADING¡¯. The dwarf decided to explain the true encounter of the first zombie, forcing it past the curse into the killing embrace of light. Noticing stairs at the back, he took no chances. This was enough for Mallow.


    ¡°But you must undo the barricade. We cannot leave these souls entombed.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s face fell.


    ¡°And you can always use the experience. Real experience, dwarf.¡±


    He, the dwarf, hadn¡¯t really considered why ¡®FAITH¡¯ came and went silently in contrast to which gained levels. But then, the dwarf didn¡¯t gain ¡®SAVING¡¯ milestones, either. Or were more deaths expected of him? To Him? The very thing at which the funguay put prayers to, the dwarf made heretical farm animal facsimile of. But he did not blame Waspig for the blank bible. If not God, then something like God in scope or scale would have to be responsible for its making, for ¡®SAVING¡¯ and ¡®LOADING¡¯ which neither Mallow nor any elf made reference of. What could it all possibly mean, the dwarf cried from within. Doctor Mallow, sensing tension in its pupil, approached less authoritatively.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Come now, dwarf. I have seen your faith. It is strong. Your passion for Him is well evident. So I ask you as one and the same made by His eye to join me in guiding His lost souls home.¡±


    The doctor waited. The dwarf acquiesced.


    ¡°Very good. You go about dismantling this nonsense, I will wait outside. Frost on my cap is certainly no curse at all.¡±


    As Mallow exited, Waspig entered. It sat itself near an upturned cabinet and began gnawing a book missing its content. The dwarf took a deep breath. He did have faith.


    Stepping outside, the funguay had taken shelter beneath an awning. A mound of snow topped its head. Its multitude of hands began furiously rubbing one another as the two stepped inside, Pistol choosing to remain outside, its play in the snow only daring to be interrupted. With trash and rubbish scooped to both sides of the wall, a clear path led to the door at which Mallow prodded a key towards. It suddenly stopped and craned its neck, at which a little snow slipped.


    ¡°How did you get in?¡±


    The dwarf dove into his pouch and produced a lockpick. Doctor Mallow clicked its tongue.


    ¡°That is mine, is it not? No, it is no consequence, I have nothing to get into. This door¡¯s luck of a working lock and easily found key is something only He could have ordained. And it is evil, dwarf,¡± the funguay emphasized, leaning closer, further spilling white. ¡°It is evil that made His children what they are. But that is why we can defeat them.¡±


    WIth the door opening and funguay entering, the dwarf¡¯s eyes widened. It was obviously his duty to warn the doctor, to stop it from tumbling down. Indeed, should Mallow fall, if it did not perish to wounds sustained before water, its staggering self would be little match for the zombies awaiting it. But this was the same funguay which had molested his flock, using the dwarf twice in two timelines. Not only was Funguayou produced this illegitimate way, but even Funguayou became the bearer of forced burdens at the hands of its father of fungus. But it was the dwarf¡¯s heart that forced his hand forward snatching one of the doctor¡¯s pulling him back. It demanded to know what the dwarf was doing, and the dwarf could not vocalize the danger without invoking an a priori account. In his lack of words, the doctor snatched its hand back and continued forward. The dwarf yelled but came ignored. Mallow loudly grumbled, stepping then across the middle of the floor and falling through, hand once more snatched by dwarf. It begged for his help and stretched another hand forward to which too became grabbed. Up the dwarf hoisted the funguay, latter dashing back out into the hall, wheezing as the dwarf approached.


    ¡°Reseal... the door...¡±...


    With the barricade re-established, the funguay admitted feeling unfit to continue with the day¡¯s lessons. The dwarf mounted Waspig while Doctor Mallow brushed pounds of white dust from tall, wide, scarred Pistol. The four descended the trail.


    ¡°A question for you, dwarf,¡± began Mallow. ¡°How did you know that would happen?¡±


    The dwarf remained silent. He wracked his head for plausible answers and came up empty.


    ¡°It could be none other than divine intervention. Such a thing has happened to myself. I am sorry for how I conducted myself back there. Perhaps we can think of you pulling me up from the floor a test--physical, yes, though I¡¯ve never questioned that. Moral, dwarf. You did not have to save this funguay. Perhaps one day you will regret it. But you acted well. God bless.¡±


    The dwarf massaged Waspig¡¯s head.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 40¡±


    ¡°Many months will pass before this snow comes to this island in full. But it will happen. Prepare yourself and the steeple, dwarf. In time you may come in need of materials beyond what is accessible to you. Look to Nasteze, then. Though I cannot offer Ishmael, for he is quite busy enough.¡±


    Something in the delivered tone rubbed the dwarf wrong. But he bid farewell to the doctor without its mentioning and, heading away and towards the steeple with Pistol in tow, the dwarf rode on from a setting sun. Arriving, he shoved the stack of planks with tired, funguay saving arms and decided it would be the last time he¡¯d ever shove them again.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

    Scavenging the hinges off the steeple¡¯s fire eaten double doors, the dwarf figured a single replacement possible. For other parts, he employed pigsect and arachnid equally, traveling down the massive divide in the earth for the source of sap so plentiful, riding to the ruins of Omelet for a knob. It especially pained the dwarf during the latter to think one with working key existed behind an obstruction already once disassembled. He considered reloading his training with the doctor so as to retrieve the knob conveniently, but it seemed horribly wrong. The dwarf didn¡¯t wish to be talked to again with likely the same words and he dreaded reliving a day on someone else¡¯s schedule; he would not be ¡®LOADING¡¯ in the face of an indeterminable obstacle. Morally--which Mallow had so kindly espoused--the dwarf considered what it would mean to the funguay to send words towards a receiving end already familiar? Though he would only be aided by a vague memory, the dwarf knew the funguay would suspect. If it truly was not aware of ¡®SAVING¡¯, it would have no reference point to refer towards should the dwarf¡¯s unnatural familiarity be in question. Or had he overthought it all? The dwarf wondered whether to ask Funguayou the next time it visited, if the dwarf did not first. Though the likelihood of such an event seemed low. He could not yet bring himself to face the mushroom hogsect spawn.


    In the end, the dwarf did disassemble the pile, labor beating down his back. His effort unfinished, he collapsed to the ground, chest heaving. Words spoken by Mallow the day previous hung in his head concerning the lost souls only a door and trash away. The floor had given way and what was dangerous advertised itself as moreso. None had been ¡°guided home¡±. The dwarf forced himself up and out of the apartment into the cold, a rush of flurries battering the bouncing Waspig unsuccessfully. He let out his tongue and took in an extraordinary amount of snow in just the same manner as a boy. What Mallow had said of it, too, the dwarf agreed with, even if his cold, exposed feet didn¡¯t. Could it really be a curse? Puzzled, he tried to connect an eternal isolated snowstorm with zombies. It did make sense he hadn¡¯t encountered any outside--they¡¯d freeze, topple and be topped. If the response to the walking dead was a curse, it worked--perhaps too well. The dwarf identified several farms decimated by fields of white. Nothing could survive here long.


    Omelet being a desolate town, the dwarf imagined the possibilities should the curse be lifted. But whether the remaining zombies would then exit shelter in droves remained to be seen. And how did the dwarf intend to herd the undead out? At the realization buried within a realization, the dwarf groaned. Doctor Mallow had used its key to fix the door before its resealing and taken it home. He tried to remember something else the doctor had said: ¡°You can always use the experience.¡± Though that wasn¡¯t the funguay¡¯s intention, it amused the dwarf to twist it this way.


    ¡°LOCKPICKING SKILL INCREASED TO 5¡±


    Inside, the dwarf used the lockpick to unscrew the hinges and release the door. He did the same to remove the knob, stashing all in a second sack before stored flat within the cowskin pouch. Double doors were possible after all, the dwarf relished. Done with his task and satisfied at the permanent amount of light let in (little as it was), the dwarf creeped in, sticking to the walls, sidling from one corner to the next until arriving at the stairway towards the back. He appreciated the small comfort of descending versus previously climbing, and an edge emerged. A floor down, barrels and crates partially obscured shambling, mummering undead. Their terrible pallor and exposed bone shone via the funguay made hole. One stumbled and threw itself over the stairs making a grab for the dwarf¡¯s beard--he whipped it with glittering light.


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    ¡°ONE-HANDED SKILL INCREASED TO 3¡±


    It shrieked and collapsed, creating a new set of holes. Another snaked around the newly made obstacle only to find its legs slashed with the same holy rope. It fell and the dwarf bound its limbs, a fifth string of rope set between its monstrous teeth. As it chewed, the dwarf could not help but picture dog with bone. The thought ushered the dwarf on after rearranging the noticeably taller zombie with its back against a toilet. The next floor brought him to his best guess of gambling, bright rune mounted above. The dwarf broke it free and left it atop the table by the locket box and coins--they would not be the only spoils. But the dwarf peered past the fresh hole and eyed the two remaining zombies, one shuffling and splashing, the other prone and motionless. The dwarf drew from his palms another line of golden light, jangling it for the zombies¡¯ attention. The former soon splashed from view making obvious way for the stairs. The latter remained as if nothing had happened. Puzzled but appreciative of the straightforward task ahead, the dwarf met the incoming undead with a sharp bright strike across its face. Binding it, he propped it against the card table and descended to examine the inanimate. Uncomfortably close, the dwarf raised its shoulder for a better look: it was indeed ¡®dead¡¯, as dead as the once pulverized zombie of another life. The dwarf dragged the decayed corpse to the stairs and nearly mounted it had the blue potion not flashed across his mind. Soon one hand grabbed at the corpse¡¯s spine with a neck as blue as his gi secured in the other. He made to climb the stairs and released the zombie, eyes widening, knees bending, potion releasing and smashing across another undead with bright scarring tissue all along its limbs. The contents visibly seeped into its peeling flesh, and it howled. The dwarf advanced and struck it with a fast made rope. Caught unaware, it received several more blows until laying as limp as the corpse near it. Up the floor cautiously with hands free, the dwarf came upon the still bound captive save its legs--scarred.


    In an unignorable demonstration, the dwarf learned there were limits to his ¡®FAITH¡¯...


    Exhausted, the dwarf threw himself into the river beside the steeple, moon and planet above never closer. He scrubbed at the filth and bile covered in, bruises and cuts made clear. Waspig, its own bath complete, bounced around in the night heat with Cath and Blissey. Former¡¯s hair so wildly tangled, the dwarf considered a shave. The thought of the same happening to his own beard stayed the suggestion. Emerging dripping, the dwarf wandered his wet hanging clothes and towards the playing flock, joining for his own humor.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 41¡±


    The dwarf grabbed at the cowskin pouch and second sack resting against the brick of the steeple. He had his wood, a knob, sap, and enough hinges for spares. But what the dwarf really needed to tackle the concept of his door was unavailable: a handsaw. Worse, he already knew one reason to visit Funguayou and the doctor. But if it would have to happen, it would be done tomorrow. His drying back yearned for the cold of the tiles soon beneath him, and his eyes drooped.


    The dwarf dreamed of those same four floors.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

    ¡°Dwarf?¡± asked the fungus far shorter than the distance from floor to knob. ¡°What can I do for you, bud?¡±


    The dwarf was impressed. The inside of the mossy cottage, cleaned of its filth and trash, did not appear so different than when he had first stepped inside so many lives ago--minus some furniture. It seemed the doctor¡¯s favorite horridly uncomfortable chair survived after all, but its equal did not. The couch looked repaired. The kitchen had its shelves reordered. Funguayou bowed.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say a thing, I already know it. Appreciate it, dwarf. Come outside, let me introduce you to the flock.¡±


    Hearing Funguayou pronounce the revered term reserved normally for Waspig and the like, a wave of nausea came and dissolved. The dwarf-limbed funguay appeared concerned, but the dwarf waved it off, and the two emerged out the backdoor to encounter a bustling two hives, octagonal pens housing individual miniaturized fungus headed tusk bearing amalgamations. Some, to the dwarf¡¯s horror, bore multiple limbs. The dwarf restrained rising bile.


    ¡°This one¡¯s Boxhound, and this is Whip, and this is The Canticle... You look tired. Let¡¯s come back inside and I¡¯ll get some tea going.¡±


    The dwarf felt grateful for the gesture. He seated himself atop the couch, no pose quite right. In little time Funguayou arrived with a platter of three cups. The dwarf took one, minute mushroom bobbing at the surface of the tea, and nearly spilled it jumping at the exclamation from the cellar.


    ¡°Ishmael! Dare I smell tea?¡±


    The dwarf hadn¡¯t been aware it could smell anything. Funguayou excused itself and rushed downstairs, its own tea cooling atop a small round table. The temperature of his own tasted boiling, so he set it down and waited. Kicking his short legs for some time, the dwarf grew curious. He hopped off the couch and descended the cellar, the noises denoting an argument echoing from down long, cool halls. The dwarf felt as if he had crept from his own bedroom, and the nostalgia made him sick. The closer he drew, the louder they were. The dwarf stopped before a room of boxes and barrels--one in which the dwarf had ransacked for fruit and seed.


    ¡°Well of course I¡¯m in here,¡± began the doctor. ¡°I told you I¡¯d be in storage. You¡¯ve delivered it cold by now.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, dad. I still see smoke coming up off of it, though, so would you give it a taste?¡± requested its illegitimate son.


    Were its flock its siblings, wondered the dwarf.


    ¡°It¡¯s cold. It¡¯s cold. Leave me be, Ishmael. Play with,¡± said Mallow. ¡°Dwarf?¡± For the dwarf had come forward. ¡°Wandering? Can I help you?¡± And the dwarf spoke of the key to the knob. ¡°Took it, did you? But what of the undead?¡± And the dwarf related the tale of their dragging out beneath the sun, exorcized in its warmth. It seemed pleased. ¡°Thank you. It is good to hear your faith is so strong. Yes, there are limits to our abilities, but hold fast and continue your prayers and reconstruction. And, on the topic, how does it go?¡± And the dwarf requested the handsaw. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ve brought back my axe?¡± And he had not. ¡°Well,¡± began Mallow. Have you any coin?¡°


    The dwarf fished through his cowskin pouch and produced the minted spoils of the card table. Although just a few, the funguay¡¯s eyes lit.


    ¡°Ishmael, get him the saw. And keep it, dwarf. And the axe. But I will be wanting that wheelbarrow back some time. Do not rush yourself. And, boy, do not forget my tea!¡±


    ¡°Yes, father!¡± yelled back Funguayou.


    The dwarf started for the same hallway the dwarfen funguay darted into. But Doctor Mallow rested a hand atop his ocean blue shoulder.


    ¡°I assume you have seen them. Marvelous things, yes? Such fine funguay features, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    The dwarf backed off letting the hand slide off.


    ¡°Your face expresses enthusiasm like bark bites. Are you sore about what I¡¯ve done?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s hands began to ball.


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    ¡°Well get over it. You came to me in His home and tore my life down. Some pitiable sum in a bag is all I¡¯ve to show for it--that and these scars by my ribs. Be grateful at all my love for Him exceeds my disdain for you, dwarf. And you are a poor influence on Ishmael, my sense of smell is keen enough to know what he¡¯s been up to. I assure you no herb burns under this roof. Now, you¡¯ve been reconstructing the church, have you? The door? And you want my key? I would refuse you had you not exorcized the poor undead of Omelet. But your wretched self did a good deed. Here,¡± said Mallow, pulling the key from a drawer, slapping it onto an open palm. ¡°Ishamel, boy, that tea had better be hot.¡±


    Sharing goodbyes with the two funguay, the dwarf departed back to the steeple armed with saw and key. Combining the efforts of his sap collection and already chopped wood, creating the makeshift door started on elevated footing. The saw blade, gray but free of grime, dug through the wood effortlessly.


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 11¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 12¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 13¡±


    Utilizing the hinges on hand, the dwarf attached a single set to his new, thick door, bolstering the recovered knob. He took the weighty doubly reinforced work of ¡®CARPENTRY¡¯ into his hands and fitted it within the space so long empty. Hinges mounted, the dwarf pushed the door open and watched it close on the lowering sun. His hand leaned forward, pulling the door into place. And carved near the bottom hanged a flap just wide enough for Pistol. Lying down, the pet let out a sigh of satisfaction. The dwarf couldn¡¯t have agreed more...


    The next day, the dwarf took to the roof utilizing the aid of his arachnid one plank at a time, little interest in a pulley system or other such method. Instead the dwarf repeatedly rose and descended bearing the means of repairing the steeple¡¯s roof, even if the new material hardly matched the old. It meant all the same to the dwarf so long as he repaired the hole. Thankfully Paris had already woven a great sticky blueprint for laying upon, something the second spider too built upon. It was simple laying the majority of the wood, utilizing the handsaw for the more difficult corners and jagged edges.


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 14¡±


    ¡°CARPENTRY SKILL INCREASED TO 15¡±


    Many nights ago, recalled the dwarf, Funguayou had made reference to Christ. Though he¡¯d ultimately overlooked it in favor of more pressing events at the time, what had compelled the funguay? For a brief moment the dwarf entertained the thought of widespread knowledge of Jesus, but it dawned on him the memories Funguayou had retained. What of the offspring of the pigsects--did they know the dwarf¡¯s love? It had not seemed, to the dwarf, they particularly paid him attention on visiting. But he¡¯d only seen them for a moment, leaving and refusing to hazard a second look. And what of Funguayou? Sympathy welled in the dwarf for the responsibilities thrust upon the illegitimate child. A lesson in ¡®FAITH¡¯ was one task; living with the doctor full time frightened him. The dwarf frowned, mounting his unnamed arachnid and descending from the roof for the final time, he hoped. He allowed the spider free roam while the dwarf lay beneath the shade of the steeple. It was a pity he did not foresee his abilities creating a spider flap any time soon.


    It surprised the dwarf in his lazy, sleepy state to soon hear minute gallops, Funguayou soon in view atop a wretched cap headed Waspig-like. The dwarf preferred it covered in straw. But they nonetheless approached and Funguayou hitched its ride to recently installed fencing.


    ¡°Hey again, bud.¡±


    The dwarf rose and leaned, warm in his gi.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, dwarf, I¡¯m not here to collect on the wheelbarrow yet. Sure it collapses but I doubt my hands could get it home anyway, tough as they are. Listen, dad sent me. He wants you to make an order for him. Steelroot seeds? Familiar?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s face slackened. He could not at first reason out why this request was made to him until realizing only he could fulfill it, neither funguay allowed within the settlement of the elfs. It admittedly annoyed him to be thought of as a mediating errand boy.


    ¡°Just a few. I¡¯ve the coins for them, and some extra for yourself. Oh, and he says you can keep the ¡®barrow, too, if you... so, will you?¡±


    The dwarf sighed and shrugged. Funguayou craned its stem upwards, cap like a straw target on legs.


    ¡°Saw from afar the work you did. And how about that door? Must say, I am taking to the miniature entrance down below. Allow me?¡±


    Before he could answer, the dwarfen fungus bowled into the flap and entered the church out of view. The dwarf twisted the knob and found it wiggle irresponsibly. The dwarf sweat. The door opened, and a cheeky Funguayou challenged the dwarf¡¯s politeness.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. Just wanted to test it out. You¡¯ve got a good safe place here, dwarf.¡±


    Animals subsiding from greetings with their funguay friend, Funguayou then stood silent listening to the pattering of hoof and claw on tile. After awhile it shook its cap.


    ¡°I better go. My flock¡¯s surely wondering where I am, and...¡±


    The dwarf turned to the pensive fungus.


    ¡°Yeah, so, steelroot. Just a few. Dad didn¡¯t say anything, but I¡¯m sure he¡¯d want me to thank you for the trouble.¡±


    The dwarf was sure it wouldn¡¯t.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

    ¡°ARCHERY SKILL XP GAINED¡±


    ¡°ARCHERY SKILL INCREASED TO 1¡±


    Loosening arrows fast across a portion of the elfen lake at targets hung on vegetation, the dwarf¡¯s mark had been made just once. Repeatedly his firings flew into bushes, skewered branches, punctured bark, or snapped off the long domineering wall. Doetrieve¡¯s hand surprised the back of the dwarf¡¯s gi.


    ¡°Yer no crackshot, dwarf.¡±


    On both the dwarf¡¯s sides were lines of military, their colors united and aim fairer. The dwarf never went for the bow and string as a human child, father¡¯s attic collection featuring two among an array of firearms. He never hunted, his exploits limited to the river. Therefore his targets often were hay, and yet rarely could an arrow find its way home. His chores mounting, the hobby was abandoned. And the dwarf, just as good now, fired another with insufficient force into the water. Doetrieve restrained a laugh but his smile remained. The dwarf, teeth grit, threw the practice bow to the grass and stomped over to resupply his quiver. He returned to the lake shore alongside Giltgrief, surprisingly, indeed whom towards the dwarf felt guilt.


    ¡°Your pa ne¡¯er showed you how to shoot that, did ¡®e?¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s skin grew hot.


    ¡°Y¡¯aren¡¯t even ¡®oldin¡¯ it right. Funny joke, Cappan?¡± asked Gilt.


    ¡°Aye, a sight to watch,¡± answered Doetrieve. ¡°Apologies, dwarf. Try with your arms like this.¡±


    The dwarf licked his lips and notched an arrow. Giltgrief lowered his own arms to watch. A harpooned bird¡¯s nest later and the dwarf meekly dropped the bow.


    ¡°Agreed, Doe. No crackshot.¡±


    Retiring to his suite in the mid afternoon, the dwarf attempted relaxing in its bathhouse. While the water was hot, his spirits refused thawing. He soaked in silence, thoughts on the ground. As a boy he¡¯d, in fact, requested from his father help with the bow. Its discovery made after the departure of his mother, he was refused in favor of drink most times. Only in a single drunken event did the the boy regret ever asking. He would go on to piddle around with archery alone until losing all interest. Scrubbing himself clean, the dwarf emerged and dried, dressing in freshly laundered blues and gold, feet fitting into geta.


    ¡°She¡¯s lookin¡¯ fine,¡± began Doetrieve, ¡°ain¡¯t she?¡±


    The dwarf made contact with Paris¡¯ pedipalps and softly ground his dome against its head.


    ¡°ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 41¡±


    ¡°Dwarf?¡±


    Perhaps his head had lingered long. The dwarf asked Doetrieve about steelroot.


    ¡°Uh? Well it¡¯s like I told ya, grow ¡®em in sleet and don¡¯t give em a day¡¯s worth of sunshine. Yer mind¡¯s in the wrong place, dwarf.¡±


    The dwarf agreed. And he switched topics to funguay.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t they enter?¡± repeated the captain. ¡°Well you¡¯ve met those ferals, ain¡¯t you? Now that fungus we nearly ¡®ung, maybe ¡®e was a little more like you an¡¯ me. But ¡®e¡¯s also a witch brewin¡¯ poisons, so, really, how much better is ¡®e than the ones underground?¡±


    Finding it difficult to disagree, the dwarf nonetheless persisted in his train of thought.


    ¡°But,¡± said Doetrieve. ¡°No ¡®un wants to see those things around. It¡¯s been a task in itself getting some of the villagers to come around with arachnids like my ol¡¯ girl. Funguay too?¡± he asked, suddenly exasperated. ¡°You need to watch yerself if you¡¯re keeping in touch with that mushroom. Ain¡¯t no good gonna come of it.¡±


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    Still unable to fully disagree, the dwarf decided the conversation would need another day in court. He dropped the topic following some pause and requested lessons in the way of the bow. Captain Doetrieve suddenly beamed.


    ¡°Now ¡®at¡¯s a happier subject.¡±...


    In an obscure thicket, the dwarf¡¯s arrows bounced off the bumpy rock wall before him. Paris watched from its old resting place, absently knitting web. Doetrieve¡¯s arms folded.


    ¡°Where ya aimin¡¯, dwarf?¡±


    The dwarf thought himself aiming for the straw, paper dotted once dressed over. But so few arrows came anywhere in the wanted vicinity, he¡¯d gained no further level in ¡®ARCHERY¡¯. Unlike the group event at the lake shore, it did comfort the dwarf to have his embarrassment captured only by a single elf¡¯s eyes. Indeed it was growing dark outside and the dwarf thought of his flock, wondering of his own spider and its caretaking of the church. The arachnid obviously understood no concept of such, but such a large and threatening presence, hoped the dwarf, would deter ne¡¯er-do-wells, although he really had no concept of any but Doctor Mallow and the bandits bound and delivered. It seemed none had returned to their former base if any where turned out, knowledge of which the dwarf did not have. He had not returned to the Nasteze¡¯s great gate and moat upon sand. Occasionally on entering or exiting the desecrated the church he caught a great plume of smoke in the city¡¯s direction. It was even rarer to behold a mammoth, a fact which puzzled the dwarf. For whatever reason, he could not bring himself to approach the walls of Nasteze again nor even explore the plains. His once kidnapping so disturbing, the dwarf did not wish to know what creatures made their homes in the same land as which criminals stalked in search of bait for the mines. The worst aspect of this came at ¡®mines¡¯, for just the thought compelled the dwarf to yearn. Never once in his childhood on the farm had he taken a pick to rock, and in the new world as dwarf he suddenly wished for the satisfaction of none else. An absentminded arrow pinned Paris¡¯ saddle.


    ¡°Your form ain¡¯t terrible,¡± complimented the captain, ¡°but good One, yer no crackshot.¡±


    Lowering his bow, the dwarf asked of what the settlement¡¯s following steps were in the wake of the Ponderous¡¯ passing.


    ¡°Huh. Well, fella, that¡¯s a heavy ¡®un. So you¡¯ve noticed, I reckon. We do have some witherin¡¯ trees and stalks. Big cheeses like Lord Moth are workin¡¯ on it, friends back home tell me. They¡¯re out in search of the unendin¡¯ forest to the north--far north, you familiar?¡±


    But the dwarf shook his head. His only conception of ¡®north¡¯ was a bay and its city. Recollecting, the dwarf asked of the deitree supposedly there. At first, Doetrieve balked at the term. But he nodded, murmuring to himself.


    ¡°Right. The Curious One. No chance ¡®e moves. An there¡¯s others that won¡¯t have it. Truth is, dwarf,¡± confided the captain,¡± we built around The Ponderous One. ¡®E wanted to be here. Place is as remote as it gets, ¡®sides Nasteze. No one wants to be ¡®ere.¡±


    Was there no other option?


    ¡°You ask me,¡± (which the dwarf had), ¡°there is. But not happenin¡¯. No resources for it. Little attention. The other lords never leave the mainland. To them, we blew it with The Ponderous. An¡¯ they¡¯re right, I reckon.¡±


    The dwarf notched another arrow. It thudded in the far corner of the target.


    ¡°Well, least you hit something.¡±


    By the end of the night, the dwarf had landed only two more shots--enough however to gain a level in ¡®ARCHERY¡¯. Several dozen more missed. As the two prepared to say goodbye in front of the hotel, Doetrieve stopped a turning dwarf.


    ¡°You know, you ne¡¯er explained yerself,¡± the elf began. ¡°You know too much about elfs and funguay and The Ponderous One to be lookin¡¯ so doe-eyed all the time. What gives?¡± asked with some level of annoyance. ¡°Don¡¯t think I ain¡¯t grateful. Without yer help, I wouldn¡¯t be captain. Almost got hanged, but you put a stop to it. But who are you, dwarf? How¡¯d¡¯ya know what you know? And what else is there?¡±


    The dwarf froze. Doetrieve folded his arms.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t go ¡®round lookin¡¯ gift-golems in the mouth. An¡¯ I consider you an ally. But,¡± the captain said, ¡°why did you e¡¯en do it? Why¡¯d you help us?¡±


    The dwarf just wanted to be left alone.


    ¡°Sure ain¡¯t comin¡¯ around ¡®ere like it.¡±


    Before the dwarf could clarify, the captain walked off, hand blind in waving goodbye. The dwarf wondered if he¡¯d misspoke. He wondered what Doetrieve seemed afraid of--but how could the dwarf bring himself to explain what seemed unexplainable? He¡¯d certainly made no mention of ¡®SAVING¡¯ to Doctor Mallow. Solely Funguayou knew, and with unfair advantage, argued the dwarf. He did not wish to appear crazed. But he just as well leaned towards maintaining good relations. What could the dwarf possibly suggest as the means to his omniscient knowledge? Disrobing and entering the bathhouse, it soured the steam and water. Though the dwarf intended to leave at dawn, he could not sleep, and so his gi was tied tight by gold obi. He waved at the night auditor running the front desk and exited into another warm night in the season of swet.


    Hitching a ride on another unnamed arachnid--a resident of the church--the dwarf traveled through the forest, eyes unable to discern decay in darkness. He came upon the divide between tree and plain, and a hard wooden sounding staff swung from cover winding the dwarf and sending him reeling into grass. By the time he sprang to his feet, a spear had gone through his transport. He blinked and the staff came down again as did he.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    The dwarf sat up in blackness.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    He groped for anything tangible. The dwarf found naught.


    ¡°SEEK ME...¡±


    But despite the hollow voice¡¯s echoes, the dwarf could trace them to no direction.


    ¡°DWARF...¡±


    Shifting his stout limbs to run, the dwarf instead submerged slowly into an abyssal floor. No matter his writhing, neither leg cooperated. Further cries for aid met itself and eventual silence. Indeed booming pleas trailed on until nothing, each repeat weighing heavier on the his soul. Before long he lowered fully into blackness, his vision the same.


    ¡°What does she wish done with the heavy one?¡±


    ¡°Yes, haul him this way. His fate is the chieftain¡¯s.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s lids cracked. Not only had he known similar bounds--they led to his death. The dwarf¡¯s last ¡®SAVE¡¯ the morning of ¡®ARCHERY¡¯ practice, not much felt at stake to lose, though he did not relish the potential pain and time wasted. He remembered the bandit¡¯s sword boring through his chest and the sight of his own blood in mass quantity. It was a mercy he did not live long enough to chronicle the later stages of agony. Just as merciful, Waspig and the others were currently safe. The remembered sight of its corpse dragged through a desecrated church brought about tears. His rope choked hands squeezed.


    ¡°And what of the other?¡± one asked--behind.


    ¡°What of it? You wish to eat the eight legged?,¡± responded the other ahead.


    ¡°No, but the others may...¡±


    ¡°Slay them, I don¡¯t. Leave it out the cart.¡±


    The dwarf peered past his feet requiring awkward adjustment, and he beheld his geta and the bare space of empty rotted wood.


    ¡°Has dinner been gathered?¡±


    ¡°Other brothers hunted well, I hear.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Mammoth. We¡¯ll eat for awhile.¡±


    ¡°And fetch something for the ivory, at least,¡± dejectedly.


    The dwarf shut his eyes and steadied his breaths. Once again he had been snatched--completely carelessly. He insulted himself for it.


    Rocks fell. The dwarf noticed the steep cliff face traveled alongside, boulders precariously on multiple edges. One came down jolting the two bandits.


    ¡°Hells,¡± complained the front.


    ¡°It is less preferable than the steeple.¡±


    ¡°But the mammoth are plentiful.¡±


    ¡°For now.¡±


    Dark clouds gathered overhead, and the dwarf could not make out even the yellow of the plains. His view miserable, he shut his eyes and swallowed.


    ¡°The brute¡¯s awake,¡± one suggested. His opposite laughed.


    ¡°The sooner the better. Let¡¯s get him inside.¡±


    Through a wide crack the two with loaded wagon traveled, light dimming on their backs. Many bones broke up their pace. Turning a corner, sight returned via torches of great red flames planted interspersed. The dwarf was toppled from his ride and dragged on his feet. The entered cave, somewhat aided by holes in the ceiling, dressed itself heavy in moss. Made up of dirt and rock, the floor supported six bedrolls. Two men the dwarf recognized, frowning. He was absolutely certain at least one of them had been wound in silk and delivered. But it did delight the dwarf to know not all bandits were present--perhaps Nasteze kept its nastiest. Recalling ¡®chieftain¡¯, however, he could not hope to avoid facing her again.


    Laid against the wall, the dwarf gained a better look at his kidnappers. Adorned in leather and iron, they looked more than capable of slaying the great mythical tusked beasts so boasted of. One, eyepatch swallowing of the face what a mop of hair did not, lit a pipe. His opposite, shorter and with both eyes, appeared almost as wide as the dwarf. It disturbed him to look downward at his thick legs and so he shut out his sight again. But the tears had long stopped.


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    ¡°Where is the chieftain?¡± asked the stouter of the cart walkers.


    ¡°She will return by dinner,¡± answered the vision impaired. ¡°Patience.¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°Cease your questions. He is listening.¡±


    The dwarf kept his eyes closed.


    ¡°So you say,¡± doubted aloud the dwarf-like human.


    ¡°I¡¯ll request you whipped, Caltraz.¡±


    ¡°What have I done?¡± asked genuinely.


    ¡°Enough.¡±


    And the dwarf nodded off...


    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    The dwarf lay in blackness.


    ¡°AAAAARRRRFFFFFFF...¡±


    He kept still.


    ¡°DWARF... SEEK ME...¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s teeth ground into one another. They shattered and the dwarf swallowed. The taste of bone began to mingle with warm iron. The dwarf dribbled blood onto his beard, staining it. He still did not stir a limb, prone and facing upwards at the abyss. The voice, similar to The Ponderous One but gruffer, bellowed in clarity.


    ¡°THE BAY...¡±


    ¡°Awake, stone digger.¡±


    The stone digger blinked, clearly back in the overgrown cavern of torch light, no outside influence recognizable. Two men hacked at hung meat. They took their tools to the blood soaked mess and carved, and the dwarf could not face it. A slap shocked his eyes wide.


    ¡°What are ye ¡®fraid of, beard boy?¡± asked an unfamiliar voice. Its friendly rasp frightened the dwarf, determined to stoically reveal nothing. ¡°Ye¡¯ll b¡¯eatin¡¯ soon, too. Can¡¯t ¡®ave our digger starve.¡± The leather clad stubbled figure chuckled. His legs long and his chin pointed, the latter tipped towards the dwarf¡¯s bald dome. ¡°You look wild eyed, boy. Cheer up. We ain¡¯t gonna kill you. Are we?¡± questioned aloud the rasp. Another man, skin as dark as the unlit cave, showed white teeth.


    ¡°Not if he ain¡¯t gonna do nothing.¡±


    ¡°He ain¡¯t. Get a load of this expression, boy¡¯s gone pale. Can¡¯t see ¡®im ¡®urtin¡¯ a fly.¡±


    ¡°How much you wanna bet, Balto?¡±


    ¡°Got nothin¡¯ to bet,¡± confirmed Balto.


    Meat cooking, the wafting scent disturbed the dwarf. It did smell great. But, having already eaten well and recent at the elf settlement, the dwarf¡¯s anxious situation did little favors for his appetite. To consider further the menu of a thought mythical, extinct species frustrated him. It was not as if he wouldn¡¯t do the same to survive in desperation--were they desperate?


    ¡°Chieftain.¡±


    All rose, Balto scratching at the stubbed hairs on his chin, Caltraz leaning on one trunk leg over the other. The eyepatched rested in a corner. A woman entered the den of criminals and approached the dwarf. Her ragged clothes reminded him greatly of his own attire, though hers wanted repair. Her own sandals caked in blood, hair matted and down to her knees, she took the dwarf¡¯s head in her hand tilting it at various angles.


    ¡°This man will mine?¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s man,¡± responded Caltraz.


    ¡°So small,¡± she agreed. ¡°But aye. There¡¯s work in them arms. He¡¯ll need fattening up. You¡¯ll eat mammoth tonight, mine like one tomorrow. We won¡¯t kill you. Deal?¡±


    The dwarf looked at her as if asked to sign away the rights of Waspig.


    ¡°Eat and think on it, small one. Not too hard.¡±


    He swallowed hard.


    As meals began to distribute among the bandits, lightly bearded Balto brought the dwarf a bowl.


    ¡°Chili. You gonna be a good boy if I release those bonds?¡±


    The dwarf hesitated, ultimately nodding, thought of splashing the bowl in Balto¡¯s face satisfying but unrealistic. Balto saw to the rope and the dwarf felt his worn wrists, interconnected shape branded red. He accepted the bowl with both hands, surprised then of his ravenousness, chili consumed. Balto, not situated much further away, noticed and replaced the bowl with another hot one. The dwarf awkwardly thanked him, unsure of the strange hospitality. Down the second helping went; his chest went warm. Second bowl scooted across granite, the dwarf curled into rest...


    ¡°DDDDWWWAAARRRR...¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s eyes shot open. Balto¡¯s beard hung a few inches away. Scared backwards, the dwarf bumped his head on rock and the bandit before him cackled.


    ¡°Morning. You¡¯ll be working the mines today, beard boy,¡± he announced. ¡°And I¡¯ll be your supervisor. But the chieftain requested an audience first. Ain¡¯t suggestin¡¯ to disappoint her, but be quick. We have quotas.¡± And Balto began to wander off before stopping. ¡°Don¡¯t give us a reason to bind you ¡®gain.¡±


    The dwarf lunged at Balto, tackling him, pressing his thick thumbs into Balto¡¯s eyes. Squealing and thrashing, the bandit gripped a leg of the dwarf and swung with all his might. The dwarf gained flight and crashed into moss, head dazed. Through the blurring the dwarf recognized Balto coming forward, blade drawn. But a woman¡¯s voice called him to stop. The dwarf shuffled to his feet before a blow brought him back down. The chieftain pulled at his beard.


    ¡°Don¡¯t thrash about. Unbecoming. But you will make an excellent miner.¡±


    Her eyes, so close to the dwarf¡¯s, chilled the dwarf. Her demeanor threatened him--but she needed shoving. He regret if his actions could bring about worse consequences than death. Having warned himself, the dwarf resisted reason and knocked his head against the chieftain¡¯s. She recovered, grit her teeth, and spat in his face.


    ¡°Stupid boy. Those kinds of miners don¡¯t go home.¡±


    The dwarf¡¯s dizzy state lubricated his functions of reason, arguments slipping and bouncing away. He forced himself up and took another blow. It frustrated him he could not seem to will a sword into him. He realized he¡¯d have to accomplish the deed himself, but his incapacitated state restricted options greatly. Without much else in his toolbox, the dwarf spat back at the chieftain. She made a guttural sound and kicked the dwarf¡¯s chin knocking him to the soft moss ground. He lay there receiving another blow, ready for death. The pain received doled itself out on each limb, chest tight, heart weak. Involuntarily he cried.


    ¡°Baby,¡± the chieftain declared. ¡°He¡¯s not ready, fatten him up and we¡¯ll try again tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir,¡± several agreed, stout bandit watching wordlessly.


    The dwarf lost consciousness.

 CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

    Awake in a new chamber of limestone, hundreds of stalagmites and stalactites warping the floor and ceiling into a great maw of rock, flowstone and columns aplenty, the dwarf winced. He¡¯d taken several blows the night previous at the hands of the chieftain and felt each one clearly. He¡¯d acted in the interest of death and received pain and pickaxe instead. The latter did lay beside. He ignored it and staggered over to the great lake trapped beneath the earth, little light from above illuminating the crystal waters. It was no bad sight, but the dwarf would have rathered one of Waspig.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t it nice, rock digger?¡± began a gruff rasp. ¡°A nice view and you still get to live.¡± Balto stepped out from darkness and dwarfed the dwarf. ¡°You¡¯ll be taking your meals here today. Tomorrow you¡¯ll mine.¡±


    The dwarf lunged, slipped, and crumpled beneath Balto. Stubbled chin lowering and rising with laughter, Balto delivered a kick to the bearded heap and walked off. Coming back, he dumped a handful of dried meat, gone after with a looming return left on the rock digger¡¯s mind. His large hand grabbed at the mineral crusted meat, brushing it somewhat clean, and downed it. The taste, besides the odd rock, was not poor, and he missed their being by their end. But to Balto¡¯s discredit, he¡¯d underestimated the dwarf¡¯s suicidal insistence. Onto the shore he dropped to his knees and sank his beard beneath the surface of the lake. The first tugs of natural panic hit as they had in the bottom fourth floor of a snow topped ruin, as a drowning could not avoid. His body¡¯s aches and pains could not smother the desperation to release his head from knowing demise. But the dwarf persisted. And he was suddenly on his side out from the water, boot kicking into his spine.


    ¡°Idiot!¡± berated Balto. He dragged the sputtering dwarf over to a post in the softer part of the ground and ushered over a compatriot: the stout Caltraz. ¡°Watch him.¡± And Balto went away.


    ¡°Fearless bastard, aren¡¯t you?¡± asked Caltraz, chin clean. The dwarf did not respond but in coughs. ¡°I can¡¯t say I understand this. What¡¯s some hard labor for a few days? You don¡¯t believe we¡¯ll let you go?¡± But the dwarf did gather the strength at this to nod. ¡°Smart man. Of course we aren¡¯t. But we don¡¯t wanna kill ya. You comprehend?¡± The dwarf did not.


    Droplets fell in faster paced spurts onto rock and ripples. Caltraz craned his stout neck back at the high ceiling and pointed fangs.


    ¡°Raining hard I bet.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and some equipment flooded. Damned cave,¡± mused Balto appearing beside the two.


    ¡°Not mine?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Why don¡¯t you run and see?¡± spoken with a pointed grin. ¡°Thanks for watching the brat.¡±


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    Caltraz hesitated but evacuated quick on his heels away into the tunnels upward leaving the dwarf with Balto. The former only then noticed the latter¡¯s spool of thick chain.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± laughed the bandit. ¡°Ain¡¯t it gonna be a fine solution?¡±...


    The night was spent alone in the limestone maw. The cold was not accounted for courtesy of the chieftain, Balto had informed, and so the dwarf on slippery rock stuffed himself as far into a corner as the leash of chain allowed. Pickaxe confiscated (to be a nightly routine), he shivered without the means of clear escape. Drowning could not be attempted. The barbarian act of bashing his own head against the wall was dismissed--he hadn¡¯t nearly the resolve to try. No sword came down upon him nor gouged his chest. He whimpered and thought himself lower than a dog--his own ones like sheep led better lives. By some miracle the dwarf found slumber and awoke to familiar rasp.


    ¡°Today you work.¡±


    Balto tossed the pickaxe, a surprisingly fine iron instrument, onto the hard ground before the dwarf.


    ¡°Show us what you can do in an hour and we¡¯ll see about breakfast.¡±


    The dwarf did not make movement to rise. Balto in turn grabbed at his beard pulling him onto his legs. He bent and thrusted the pickaxe into the dwarf¡¯s hands and pointed at a deposit of iron. The dwarf threw it some feet away. Balto backhanded the rock digger, retrieved the pickaxe, and shoved it against the dwarf¡¯s chest. He tossed it again and stubble lowered in the letting loose of a scream, dwarf slammed against the rock wall with two hands gripping his damp, dirty gi.


    ¡°You want me to kill you?¡± asked the bandit. Slumped against a stalagmite, the dwarf gave no answer nor rose. The bandit lightly tapped his boot against rock pensively, and did not break his concentration for some time. He then threw himself atop the dwarf and ripped his collar from the chains, dragging him by the neck over to the shore, flipping him over and forcing his head below the surface. The motions so violent, the dwarf could not help but allow away bubbles and just as the darkest corners of his sight grew in intensity beneath a low lit pool he was yanked out, choking up water in bursts. The dwarf protested just as his head submerged again, the dwarf struggling out from Balto¡¯s hold on him. As he rose from the water for the second time the dwarf attempted a head bash, but his target could not be found and the act seemingly further enraged the bandit, submerging the dwarf for the third time shaking him all the while. The dwarf¡¯s mind struggled to comprehend the intense events crashing up against physical suffering, blanking. As he thought death had come, the grip on his neck loosened and a weight crashed into the lake. The dwarf was pulled from the water yet again but by the stout arms of Caltraz.


    ¡°Dumb bastard,¡± he chided. The dwarf vomit. ¡°Well not your fault he nearly killed you. Fool lost his temper is all. If it wasn¡¯t me it¡¯d be the chieftain.¡±


    The bandit beside the sputtering dwarf fell to his knees and fished the corpse of Balto. As the dwarf recovered, fallen to his side beside the shore, he could not help watching over the looting of Caltraz¡¯s fallen compatriot. At Caltraz¡¯s noticing, his clean chin gave way to a laugh.


    ¡°Well I obviously get first call.¡±

 CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

    Reshackled, the dwarf slumped against a column of rock. His range once again reduced to too narrow a scope for suicide, he lay in wait of sleep. But it did not come for some time. The dwarf tossed and turned, jangling in his wake. The pickaxe had once again been confiscated, and he had been warned by Caltraz, stout human equal (chin somewhat), of a necessary willingness to work following the night. Grime hung to the dwarf¡¯s filthy gi, washed out navy. His fingernails were stained and caked with the earth. Bald dirtied dome nestled in mud, the dwarf had not felt so low since laying alone before the dwarfen ruin.


    As if an eagerness to escape his situation overpowered physical constraints, the dwarf felt himself in the dimly lit cavern beneath the church. He remembered the pool nearly drowned in, the funguay who nursed him, and the apparition of wretched flesh. The strain of the tipped tool rising and falling onto the cavern¡¯s flesh stripping away dirt allowing in rushes of mud was felt. But he thought himself adamant in opposing any work. They sooner they killed him--like Caltraz killed Balto--the better, and it wasn¡¯t going to happen in the face of obedience. His rebellious spirit eventually did succomb to exhaustion, and the dwarf passed away a span as if nothing, aware of nothing but stings and jolts of fresh pain delivered across his damp curled form. Air rushed rapidly, its sounds and violent cracking clueing in the dwarf to his tormentor: a relentless whip. Operating the cruel weapon was the man with skin as dark as the unlit cave, laughter betraying pearl white teeth.


    ¡°Awake? Good,¡± he said, tossing the familiar iron pickaxe onto the ground. ¡°Pick it up and get to work.¡±


    The dwarf, crumpled, made no stir. The deep bronze bandit licked his lips and gave no another smile. In a flash the dwarf yelped, knee hot. In another, the dwarf clutched the back of his neck. A third strike whipped across the dwarf¡¯s dome and, before a fourth could be delivered, the dwarf shot his hand out.


    ¡°Well, well. Ain¡¯t you gonna play nice now.¡±


    The dwarf gripped the pickaxe with enough pressure to redden his hands. He shot himself forward and felt the tool rip from his hands and fly onto the shore of the vast underground lake. And then the whip was upon him again, dwarf tucked into as much a ball as his form allowed. The dwarf screamed.


    ¡°Knock it off,¡± threatened Caltraz, his disembodied voice unable to connect with a form, the dwarf¡¯s nerves too battered, senses dulled, eyes shut. But he could make out the assertion and more than understood the whipping ceased. ¡°Don¡¯t go crazy.¡±


    ¡°Or what?¡± flashed clean gums. ¡°You¡¯ll do me in like Balto?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Just like Balto.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a piece of work, you know that?¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s finer made than Crumb.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s more man than Crumb,¡± added Crumb. ¡°No one hunts like Crumb, no one whips like...¡±


    ¡°Give the bearded man a chance to dig ¡®fore you hit ¡®em again.¡±


    ¡°You chieftain now?¡±


    ¡°Chieftain¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°Lapdog.¡±


    Caltraz gave his compatriot a slap across the back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t kill the digger.¡±


    ¡°Lapdog,¡± repeated Balto.


    And Caltraz left. Crumb frowned. The dwarf¡¯s eyes stung.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care none what he says,¡± he started. ¡°You keep resisting and I¡¯ll bury you.¡±


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    The dwarf sucked in air and rose, welts on exposed flesh and beneath material active and complaining. He staggered towards the pickaxe and stopped suddenly gagging, the end of his leash reached. Crumb broke his gloom and retrieved the water washed tool, tossing it some way towards the dwarf, who made no movement. Whip bouncing somewhat in warning, the dwarf bent and froze. If he could endure the pressed anger of Crumb, he could escape to his last ¡®SAVE¡¯. But the dwarf could hardly process such searing pain. Worse than any new agony suffered, even the thought of another whip reflexively shut his eyes. He thought of the dwarfen ruin again, that mystifying entrance of jubilant dwarfs of yore tempting him inside. He recalled the circumstances landing him there once alone in wait of Doctor Mallow--his legs had grown a horrible purple.


    The dwarf stumbled over to the iron deposit, tool held but not rising, Crumb clearly irritated. When enough patience burnt, the bandit cracked the air. The dwarf inhaled deeply and the pickaxe ascended. With great force he brought the pointed end down into rock, ore shattering. The tool rose and fell twice more, the former thrice. At the apex of this tool¡¯s flight the dwarf spun on his heels thrusting the pickaxe forward as fast as an arrow, palms radiating pain as soon as their grips loosened. Crumb¡¯s mouth opened and closed in irregular patterns, and he managed only two steps forward before crashing to the floor, pickaxe pushed further up his chest. The dwarf made a grab for the whip and felt the tight pull of his chains, him too ending up on the cavernous floor. So sore from the application of his ¡®DRILL¡¯ technique and equipped poorly with little sleep, the dwarf gave in to rest as it came...


    ¡°Hells. What have you done?¡± mused Caltraz. His stout form made contact with the crumpled Crumb. ¡°What have you done...¡± His eyes glanced over the just noticeable hue of indigo in the dwarf¡¯s arms. ¡°That¡¯s not what that technique¡¯s for,¡± was his verbal conclusion. Physically, he unhooked the dwarf¡¯s chains from its post and guided the dwarf through a series of mysterious tunnels visited in his unconscious state. Underground hills sloped and twisted, and once or twice the bandit¡¯s pace outperformed the weak dwarf¡¯s, lead jerking him forward. Nearly there, as Caltraz suggested, the two stopped in front of a turn. ¡°Now,¡± began the bandit, ¡°I don¡¯t know how she¡¯ll take this. Suggest you keep your beard shut and let me talk.¡± The dwarf meekly nodded, and the two continued into the familiar torch lit cave where mammoth chili had been served.


    On a makeshift throne of bones sat the chieftain, wild, matted hair about her, ragged robes stained in splattered crimson. At the approach of the dwarf, she sneered.


    ¡°What is this animal doing out of its pen?¡±


    ¡°Crumb¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked in disbelief.


    ¡°His hands, not mine. I arrived too late.¡±


    ¡°Did you now?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asked Caltraz with a wavering tone.


    ¡°The dwarf in chains killed Crumb? Whip Crazy Crumb?¡±


    ¡°Pickaxe¡¯s through his chest. He¡¯s done.¡±


    The chieftain shot up from her seat, maneuvered to Caltraz, and brought a clean, swift slap across his cheek. She took the chains from him and stared down the dwarf.


    ¡°Bloodthirsty little man,¡± addressed the chieftain. ¡°If you¡¯ve saught our clan¡¯s eradication, you¡¯ve done well. And I don¡¯t just mean Balto nor that denture wearing fool. My men informed me of the ride they found you on. How interesting one has mastered arachnids--not a common skill. And how unusual it was to be picked off one by one in morning mist, each of us entombed in silk. The best of us had bounties. The worst, like what I¡¯ve to work with, were turned out. And you killed two of them. You must have a big heart for such a little man not cashing those bounties yourself. Just doing your part?¡± she asked shifting closer. ¡°Well here¡¯s me doing mine: I¡¯m gonna keep you in this hole ¡®till you die. When your arms give out, you¡¯re gonna keep working. No sunlight. No food that ain¡¯t mush, if I decide to feed you at all. You¡¯ll get nothing tonight.¡± The chieftain shook the chains in her grip. ¡°Back to the hole. Get moving.¡±


    So little distance between the two, the dwarf spat again. But she¡¯d evidently anticipated the move, shifting back, grabbing his beard, sending him to the ground. As the dwarf rose a sword tip pressed behind his ears.


    ¡°Done with this cheek,¡± declared the familiar voice of he with eyepatch. ¡°Let me run him through, sir. For Balto.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she responded. ¡°Sheath it. He wants out, but it won¡¯t be that fast.¡±


    ¡°You know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re challenging me?¡±


    ¡°Yea, since when did your tolerance deepen so? A year ago you¡¯d¡¯ve put ¡®im down.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t a year ago. What¡¯s now is now, and someone has to mine the iron.¡±


    The dwarf, head lowered, facing rough rock, overheard the silence. It was broken by the man in eyepatch.


    ¡°When ¡®e¡¯s just about to give out, I lay ¡®em out, then.¡±


    ¡°You lay him out, then,¡± conceded the chieftain.