《Random Road》


 A Road Untrod is No Road at All

    The story of the Random Road begins with an instance. Not a particularly interesting instance, in truth, merely the inception of another bubble of reality that those within will, at some point, come to rely on as their anchor of reality.


    To those within, surely this particular instance is something worthy of grandiose celebrations, to such an astonishing degree that they are likely to forget how the law of averages predicts this single instance of their entirety is as uninteresting, unmeritorious, unmentionable, and all around as insignificant as whether nothing actually is nothing, or if it is actually just something masquerading as nothing.


    In order to combat this not-so-interesting beginning of the story, we must rely on the storytelling crutch of latching our initiatial event onto a simplistic happening, which for arbitrary reasons constitutes the so-called ''beginning'' of our story.


    With this in mind, we begin our story with Peter.


    Peter stepped upon the Random Road for the first time by complete accident. It just so happened that, at the point of Peter''s entrance, in an entirely different realm of reality, a wicked author asked an online name-generator for a name to start their story with. In a cosmic coincidence - one which probability dwarfs the uninteresting beginning of our story by several orders of magnitudes - this very act began a string of coincidences so unlikely, yet ultimately successful, that combined to open a portal in the fabric of reality right in front of Peter.


    As the sensible, and very average, person that Peter is, he - of course - did not instinctively seek to enter the portal. Indeed, as a very average man, with a very average comb-over, Peter felt compelled to get away from this very unlikely and improbable event happening right in front of his eyes.


    To his infinite misfortune, however, the very improbable event had not only occurred once, but had double teamed poor Peter. In fact, the first portal was merely a lure, cunningly opened in the inanimate hope that Peter would step backwards and enter the other portal, hungrily awaiting a taste of his very ordinary shoes.


    Losing his step and tumbling backwards, throwing away all of the groceries he had just picked up from the store, Peter fell into the portal and, ultimately, landed upon the Random Road.


    What is the Random Road, you ask?


    It is standard to answer such a simple answer with complicated allegories which serve mostly to confuse and obfuscate from the only real answer that is: who knows...


    All Peter knew was that he was lying on his back upon a simple dirt road, stretching through an endless grassy plain. His brown khakis had gotten ripped, somehow, during the portal-ambush, and his sleeveless shirt had suffered multiple stains.


    Shaking violently from an unusual sense of incomparable incredulity, Peter gained his feet and managed to confirm that he was indeed standing exactly where he had not been before. Upon the horizon not a single landmark of any significance was visible, only grass and grass; sprinkled elements of grass, lines and lines of grass.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "BEHOLD," a sudden voice erupted across the plain, like thunder from a clear sky. Peter looked around, trying desperately to confirm the existence of someone else; surely, whoever it is, would know what was going on, and whether he was having a stroke.


    In the non-distinct landscape, a sudden puff of smoke was enough to draw any measure of attention, even one as average and common as Peter''s. From within the smoke stepped a very distinct shape; distinct in that it had the exact look of Peter himself, down to the ripped khakis and stained shirt.


    Only the face of this shape was markedly different, since, insteading of putting on the wide-eyed shock and fear on the originator''s face, this Peter had eyes wide with exuberance and uncommon joy.


    "I AM REBORN," said the shape of Peter, laughing madly as it approached the actual Peter with arms spread wide and a uniquely aggressive gait.


    Stepping back from the apparition, Peter wildly flung up his arms - in a very common, defensive posture - and screamed, "Wh-who are you!? Do-don''t come any closer or I''ll... I''ll attack!"


    The shape of Peter just laughed, ignored all of the actual Peter''s resistance, and stepped in to give his counterpart a great big bearhug - significant because of how much energy he put into it.


    After moments of fighting it, Peter gave in and, much to his own surprise, actually enjoyed the uncommon sensation of being hugged by his exact copy.


    That is, until the copy began to melt in his arms. Screaming, Peter fought off the melting expression of himself, brushing off his increasingly stained, sleeveless, shirt, and kicking away the goo that had fallen upon his pristinely ordinary shoes.


    "What.. what is happening," exhausted, poor Peter finally exclaimed the words that would reveal all - and absolutely nothing - to him.


    "Why, welcome!" Peter turned around, half-way hoping to someone without his face - while the other half hoped he was actually having a stroke. Instead, he laid eyes upon a strange little man dressed in pants much too small, wearing two differing socks beneath, and drowning in a long waistcoat dragging along the ground behind the man. The man had a head like a potato, topped with a magnificent tophat as long as it was crooked.


    How he managed to keep the darn thing on his head, Peter would never figure out.


    "Why welcome, dear Billy, to this; the Random Road!"


    Peter had a hard time keeping his eyes on this little man, as he jolted from side to side; appearing to stand still then suddenly shifted slightly to either side. "I''m sorry," Peter mumbled, trying to keep his very ordinary voice level, "But my name isn''t Billy... It''s Peter."


    The little man blinked. He turned around in a circle, chasing the tail of his waistcoat, then came back to face Peter and concluded, "There''s no one else here."


    "No, there isn''t," Peter agreed.


    "And you''re not Billy?" The man asked, tilting his head, as if the very notion was incomprehensible.


    "No."


    With a frown, the little man took out a number of papers from out of nowhere, studying them one by one while grumbling to himself. "Darned gnomes, always trying to confuse... Surely they haven''t sent me the wrong papers again just for kicks... Ahh!"


    With a joyful roar, the little man raised a single piece of paper, as if it alone held all the truths of the world. With a grin he addressed Peter once more, "You are Matthew, are you not?"


    "No... I''m Peter," said Peter, his tone approaching hopelessness.


    Wrinkling his brow, the little man screwed up his face and studied Peter closely. After a moment, he looked down his own person, noticing something distinct on his chest.


    "Ahh... of course, I see," said the man, nodding to himself sagely, "That explains it. I apologize good man, I had it wrong the whole time." Looking back up at Peter, the man pointed to his chest, where a golden name-tag proudly proclaimed his name for all to see.


    "I am Billy," said the man, grinning so widely his face nearly cracked in twain, "Now, who are you?"

 Give Your Road a Name to Remember

    "I... am... Peter..." Said the man who hopelessly assumed the name of Peter.


    "No, no," said the man who had assumed his name to be Billy, "That name won''t do. Not here, no. On the Random Road, names are too important to be left to chance. Simply calling yourself the first thing that enters your mind won''t do."


    Peter felt himself losing more and more of his common and ordinary sense of what was right, wrong, proper - and in total what the ordinary point of a conversation was.


    "It''s not a name I thought of," Peter insisted, trying to make sense of this conversation, "My parents gave me this name. It''s what I''ve been called my entire life. Surely you can understand that?"


    Billy just tilted his head from one side to the other, his large eyes sometimes widening with realization, sometimes narrowing with suspicion. The odd little man shifted his position again, giving Peter a growing headache.


    "You''re saying someone else gave you your name?" Billy said, incredulity thick in his tone, "Surely you are making fun of me... Why would anyone give you a name, much less an obviously made-up-one as ''Peter''?"


    His tone became slightly mocking, and he stuck out his tongue to show how buffoonish the whole idea was.


    "I.. I just want to know where I am," sighed Peter finally, hoping to change the subject and actually make some sense of his less-than-ordinary situation.


    "So do I," sighed Billy, looking from side to side across the endless sea of grass.


    "You don''t know?"


    Billy looked back at Peter, narrowing his eyes once more in suspicion. Peter was beginning to suspect Billy thought him an idiot.


    "Of course I ''don''t know'', you no-name sophist. Didn''t I tell you exactly where you are? You are on the Random Road, meaning you could be literally anywhere."


    "Sure, but that doesn''t mean anything to me! What country am I in?"


    "Country?"


    "You know: Italy? South Africa? Taiwan?"


    "Now you''re just saying gibberish," said Billy, dismissing Peter with a wave of his hand. "You really shouldn''t be wasting so much time, no-name, the road doesn''t wait for you, you know."


    Peter looked down upon the dirt-road beneath him. He was pretty sure it would be waiting for as long as he needed, and, with in a last-ditch effort, he tried making sense of his situation.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Just tell me - Billy, right? Just tell me, Billy, what am I doing here, and how can I get home?"


    "You''re currently doing nothing here, and you can''t"


    Closing his eyes, Peter felt the whole experience overwhelm him, and he fell backwards upon the ground - staining his sleeveless shirt even more.


    "Well... I supposed that is doing something," Billy mumbled, then walked over to stand over Peter''s face. "Hallo there! Are... You... Still.. Alive..?" He yelled as loud as he could.


    Peter pinched his eyes close, ensuring himself this was all a dream, and that the sound he was hearing was simply auditory hallucinations brought on by a sudden heart attack. The whole exercise fell to ruin as Billy began poking Peter in the chest.


    "Look," Billy began, as Peter opened one eye to check if everything was back to normal, "You''re not making this any easier on me, no-name. You''re on the Random Road, so obviously you need to walk it. If you don''t go anywhere, then I can''t go anywhere."


    "You mean, I am stuck with you?" Peter asked, sighing deeply.


    "No... I am the one who''s stuck with you," Billy emphasised, "We don''t get to choose our companions on the road. Someone else chooses for us, and we make do with what we have. Now, are you ready to walk the road, or are you content with dying here?"


    "I''m gonna die?" Peter exclaimed, sitting back up so sudden that he headbutted Billy. Stumbling backwards, the little man swore in some very unsavory terms. After an onslaught of picturesque ensambles of what Billy might want to do to anyone so uncouth as to headbutt innocent bystanders, he finally opened one huge eye and said, "Of course you''re going to die here. I think you''ve got about a week before you die of thirst. You got maybe three weeks if you drink your own urine, but I''d wager you haven''t got the stomach for that."


    "Oh... I supposed that''s true. But there''s nothing dangerous here, right? No beasts lying in wait for a kill, right?"


    The strange little man turned his head slowly from one side to another, before peering back up at Peter with a frightened expression. "I don''t know," he whispered, assuming his slow turn of the head once more.


    Peter stood back up and looked out into the grassy sea once again. A soft wind was the only thing that appeared to shift the grasses, forming undulating waves of fibers.


    "So... you''re saying we have to walk the road then? Which way?"


    "You''re going to walk? Oh, right, of course you are... Sure, walk whichever way you like."


    "But which way is the right one?" Peter asked, his patience strained to paper-thin dimensions.


    The little man scrutinized Peter once more, from the feet up, then from the head down. Finally he crossed his arms and hummed, as if thinking very hard on a very difficult problem.


    "Well?" Peter said, not quite as politely as he normally would.


    "Well what?" Billy asked, looking surprised at the very ordinary man in front of him.


    "Well, what way do we take?" Peter said, now truly frustrated, gesturing in both directions of the road. There was nothing to tell them apart; no landmarks in the distance, no difference in their make, not even a slight bent to tell them apart.


    Tilting his head, nearly toppling the elongated tophat off his head, Billy looked as lost as Peter felt. Finally, he said, "You travel the road. That''s all there is. The direction doesn''t matter. The length doesn''t matter. The location doesn''t matter. No matter where you go, the result will never be what you think it is going to be because the road is random on the Random Road."


    More confused than satisfied by the answer, Peter looked from one side to the other. Finally, sighing, he took his first step upon the chosen direction.

 A Road For One is a Toad For All

    "Billy..." Peter said, when they had walked only a short while.


    "Hmm?"


    "Where did all the grass go?"


    "What grass?"


    There was no grass at all to be seen. Not anymore. What before had been a lush and endless field of flowing green grass, was now a clearing in the middle of a forest, where a single hut stood as the sole evidence of culture within the grasps of nature.


    "What do you mean, ''what grass''? Where did field full of grass go? Where''s the bloody road, for pete''s sake?"


    The little man twisted his head, disturbingly turning a full circle, then said, "I told you, the road is random. Where you go doesn''t matter. The road will take you where you need to be; unless you tarry, of course, then the road just might throw you into a pit of... something nasty."


    "What''s the point then? If the road is going to take me wherever I need to be, why should I walk it at all?"


    The little man gasped, putting both his hands up before his mouth. After a moment of silence, Billy removed one hand and said conspiratorially, "You know, I''ve never thought of that."


    Throwing his hands up in the air, Peter gave up on his useless companion, and instead walked into the little hut. Perhaps there would be someone with a bit more sense in there.


    It was a primitive thing; put together by several unfitting - and probably rotten - trees, the construction was roofed by interconnected branches and insulated by a combination of soil and leaves. All in all, it looked like it might fall apart at any moment.


    Stepping into the hut, a stench of decay ripped through Peter''s nostrils. It was so overwhelming he had to back away from the opening and breathe hard to regain his senses. Billy, on the other hand, walked up to the opening and sniffed in deeply, saying, "Goodness me, you are in luck! There might actually be a transmogrifier here! Hurry, hurry, and get in there! You need to get rid of that ugly mug of yours."


    "A what?" Peter asked, having not quite caught the little man''s outburst. Billy growled something about no-name idiots, then took Peter''s hand and dragged him into the hut.


    Inside, once Peter had overcome his overwhelming gagging reflex, a dim light could only just reveal what was inside. Within a deepened hollow, raised slightly above a churning fireplace, hung a a black kettle with its contents simmering.


    Billy laughed and clapped his hands, circling the little kettle like a kid who had just got a new toy for his birthday.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "What''s the deal?" Asked Peter, still trying to overcome the stench within the room.


    "Why, it''s a transmogrifier, of course! Quick, take down the kettle and pour its contents into one of those cups! Hurry, No-name!"


    "My name is Peter," he said, although his very own name had begun to take on the strange quality of words repeated one too many times; a meaninglessness brought on by existential dread.


    "Whatever, just hurry!"


    Seeing the little man so angsty, Peter finally did as he was bad, taking down the kettle and pouring its contents into one of the cups sitting beside the hollow in the center. There were a few cups, and whoever owned this hut would just have to deal with his intrusion. All of his socially mandated politeness had begun to shave off in this peculiar place.


    Gingerly, he picked up the cup and looked down into its contents. The waft of decay was clearly originating from the concoction, now tickling his gag reflex. The liquid within looked no more appetizing, with its brown color and consistency of heated wax. "What is this stuff?" Peter asked, spitting the bad taste out of his mouth.


    "Maybe you need something to clean up your ears with.. IT''S A TRANSMOGRIFIER!" Billy yelled, right by Peter''s ear. The loud noise startled Peter, and he lost a bit of the liquid onto the ground. It fell upon the dirt-floor, and immediately started smoking. With eyes wide open, Peter watched as a patch of dirt transformed from inanimate to very-much-animate, as it bulged out and took on the contours of a small creature. Indeed, it took the shape of a big frog, quacking joyfully and jumping towards the hut''s exit.


    "Are you crazy?!" Billy hissed, hands on his head and eyes wide.


    "Are you?!" Billy screamed, nearly dropping the cup in his hands, "I''m not drinking that stuff! I''m not gonna be turned into a frog!"


    "Oh, you won''t be... I think. Maybe.. You see, the effect is random, so... You never know."


    With his heart up his throat, Peter put the cup back down before backing away very slowly. Only, he was currently heading for the rotten walls of the little hut.


    Meanwhile, the little, earthen frog was happily jumping towards the hut''s exit; on its way to enjoy the many fruits of animation. That is, until its short life was violently and suddenly cut to an abrupt end by the heel of a boot.


    A shadow invaded the lighted entrance to the hut, stepping mercilessly upon the sacred little life. A miserable ''Queeek'' was all the deathroes the little creature managed, and all the warning Peter had.


    "Oh, a transmogrifier. I suppose that''s good enough," a voice, angelic in its normality, said out loud, "And already served. I mean, of course it is; it''s only proper after all."


    Peter watched, spellbound, as the shadow contorted into the shape of a woman. She was the very picture of normality, as she approached the kettle and cup, with brown hair cut shoulder-length, a thin mouth turned downwards, and a pair of extra sharp glasses fastened onto her nose.


    She went right ahead and picked up the cup which Peter had just vacated. Only when she stood back up did she notice there were others in the hut with her. "Oh, is that you, Newt?"


    Billy gave half a salute and grinned."Billy, at your service... I think," the potato head had to look down on his name tag to be sure.


    "Very well, ''Billy''. Will you be coming with me, then?"


    "No... I''m stuck with him," Billy pointed in Peter''s direction. The woman finally turned her gaze upon Peter, and he gasped. Although everything about her seemed normal, the one thing that was anything but normal were her eyes; sizzling with fire, they looked like molten orbs of lava floating within her sockets.

 To Each Their Own Road

    Peter jolted backwards, this time hitting the wall behind. He felt bits of rotten wood shake off an fall down upon his increasingly dirty, sleeveless shirt.


    "Uwha.." He eloquently argued.


    "So, you''ve got a new one... He is new, right, it''s not just some new transmogrifying trick?" She said, ignoring Peter completely, turning back upon the potato head.


    "Oh he''s very new. I''m not entirely sure he''s getting the point, or figured out there isn''t any..."


    "I see," she said, nodding sagely, "Well, I''m taking this transmogrifier. You got a problem with that?"


    "I''ve got sooo many problems... Are you referring to any specific one?"


    "Okay," she sighed, picking up the mug and downing it in one draft. Peter looked on, horrified. He had seen the liquid change a patch of dirt into life, and she just downed the entire thing without a moment''s hesitation.


    For a while, nothing happened, then her entire shape warped and shifted. Like she was made of a liquid, her form undulated and began falling apart from the top down. Reverberating, the liquid produced a deep bass, as if a huge speaker had been set up right by Peter''s ear. Once the loud sound had passed, the shape twisted one more time, and - instead of the woman who had stood there before - a small dog with large ears stood barking on its hind legs.


    "Oohh," Billy said, as he stepped forward and studied what had once been the woman, "Not bad... a decent shape, I''d say. You can surely make some progress with that!"


    Peter stepped forward gingerly, circling the small dog. It turned on him incredibly fast, something that petrified his very average and ordinary constitution. Those molten eyes from before were now gone, and instead the dog had very ordinary dog eyes, along with ordinary dog teeth, dog nose, and... "Oh Christ, what is that smell?," Peter said, already fighting nausea from the general fume in the hut, but face to face with that dog-breath, he buckled under and threw up whatever had remained in his stomach.


    "It''s the smell of money, No-name," Billy laughed and wafted the air from the dog towards himself, "The smell of all the money, indeed. Why do you have to be such a tense customer? Just take what you''re served!."


    Cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand, Peter looked back up and saw the dog visibly sniff and put its head into the air, before regally exiting the hut. He tried to follow it, but it went out of sight for a mere moment, and when he should have caught sight of it again it was gone. Looking out on the clearing, still surrounding the hut, Peter tried to make sense of his past few experiences.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Of course, there was no sense to them, so it was a futile effort.


    Sighing, he turned back on Billy, who was trying to touch the kettle with a single finger. "Why would you want me to turn into a dog?" He asked.


    "I don''t want you to do anything," Billy riposted, "As long as you keep moving, I''m here to follow. Besides, you won''t know what the transmogrifier will turn you into before you swallow it."


    "And what if I just leave?"


    "Then you are just going to stay the way you are. I don''t think you''re getting the core concept here; the road is random, and the only way to get anywhere is to be random yourself. If you just stay the way you are, you are not going to get anywhere."


    "But you said the road would take me where I need to be!"


    Billy threw up his hands, then took a hold of his top hat, pulling at it as if frustration, "Of course you are where you need to be; you are always exactly where you need to be, almost by definition!"


    None of this was helping. Hesitantly, Peter stepped forward and raised the kettle again. He decided he was having some kind of fever dream, and in that spirit might as well just go with it.


    He poured another cup, allowing the brown liquid to fill it up before he put the kettle down. With a deep breath, Peter put the cup to his lips and drank it in one great draft.


    "Ahahahahah, now we''re getting somewhere!" Billy clapped his small hands and jumped in circles, his huge eyes rolling around in their sockets with every skip.


    Resisting a gag reflex, Peter blinked a few times. When blinking did absolutely nothing to wet his dried out eyes, Peter tried pinching his eyes close. Nothing. He was staring into the dark interior of the hut without any control of his face whatsoever.


    That was when he realized he had stepped into what might be described as a disaster.


    When the world then fell completely apart, and sounds hitherto unknown to him rocketed through his chest and head, he started to realize it might be a bit more serious than a disaster, and in his ordinary approach to the world, it rather felt like a ''difficult'' disaster.


    Pain followed. Not the ordinary kind of pain that Peter was used to, rather it was a pain of an indescribably ''difficult'' nature. It was in his chest for a bit, then he had no chest and the pain took hold of his legs. Then he had no legs, and the whole thing continued on.


    When it was over and done with, Peter felt he was changed. He felt a strong sense of invincibility, in fact; like a man who had overcome mortal peril and shed all of his ordinary senses to become something more... something better.


    Slowly his perceptions returned to normal, and he found himself looking upon the dim interior of the hut, only slightly changed. That is, until something took hold of him and picked him up.


    Screaming and fighting, Peter was soon held up face to face with Billy, the only difference being that Billy was now about fifty times bigger than before.


    Or... It¡¯s me who¡¯s fifty times smaller...


    The terrifying thought send shivers down Peters body, as did the mad cackling from Billy.

 An Empty Road for Empty Souls

    Looking and the giant in front of him, and feeling the quakes as Billy''s mad laughter shook his tiny form violently. "Well there, No-name, let''s see where the road takes you, shall we?"


    Peter desperately wanted to say something, to the effect of ''please, no, oh God, don''t do this'', but whatever verbal skills he had possessed as a human being were now lost to him. When the potato-head opened his tiny mouth to preposterous proportions, raising Peter up into the air to hang above the open maw.


    Screeching, Peter tried to make his protest very clear, but it just made Billy laugh even harder. The fingers released, and what had once been the very average and ordinary ''Peter'' fell into the abyss.


    There was no ''crunch'' from teeth, or any kind of obstacle, really, to his fall. There was only darkness. It seemed like it lasted for an eternity, then a flash of light yellow disturbed his inoculated state of existence. The fall ended abruptly when Peter landed upon a very hard surface with a gentle ''plop''. This sudden change in reality was followed by a brutal hammer of light hitting his poor eyeballs.


    Before the world changed back into a somewhat recognizable form, the light took on a hue of burning red, then to a slightly softer magenta, before finally arriving at an orange-like texture which was barely tolerable.


    The air was dry, approaching, arid, as he desperately sucked in breath after breath. Whatever Billy had done to him, at least he was not currently residing in the stomach of the strange little man. After taking some time to come to terms with his present conditions, Peter finally brought forth the courage to inspect himself.


    Scaly limbs met his immediate inspection, when he tried to look at his hands. He had none of the dexterity he was used to, and had to crane his neck strangely just to look at his limbs. Looking at his ''hands'' also gave him a good look at his scaly stomach, a set of ''feet'' looking much like his hands, and ending in a long tail, narrowing at the tip.


    The sight made his eyes blur, and he had a strong desire to vomit again. This can''t be happening... It''s just a dream... just a dream...


    However, the heat felt very real. As did his new body, with its contact to the dry ground. Gingerly, he tried to stand up - failed to stand on hindlegs, as he was used to - before he finally accepted his quadropedic reality. Turning slowly in circle, Peter met with his next big surprise.


    Two small eyes in a huge head slovenly observed his reaction, as the shock caused him to instinctually jump as fast he could backwards.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Weeeell," drawled the massive creature, "Thaat''s neeeew."


    Peter opened his mouth to answer, but failed to produce any sounds of a linguistic nature. Instead, a lot of hissing, spitting, and generally unsavory sounds escaped his tongue.


    "Yoou gootta stooop thinking like a huuuman," the beast said, raising its head back up and tilting it an angle, such only one eyes kept a close watch on Peter''s small form, "Noooo oone staays huuuman heere for looong."


    Adapting to this new existence was difficult enough as it was, especially when everything was just so incredibly wrong. He did, however, slowly come to realize the monster he was speaking to was nothing more than a giant ox - well, giant, relative to his own size.


    "It taaakes time," the ox said, good-naturedly, "Dooon''t wooory tooo much. I seee yoour cooompanion is heere as weeell. Heelloooo."


    Turning in a quick circle, beginning to get a hang of his new body, Peter saw another big creature standing beside him. Not only was this one many times his size, it had huge tusks sticking out of its mouth, from which a disturbing amount of saliva escaped its maw.


    Although Peter recognized this creature as a warthog, it had at least two features which he suspected ordinary warthog generally lacked; first, it had a coat of floral white, making it stand out in the orange-tinged surroundings, and second, it had upon its small, flat brow a tall tophat of remarkable manufacture.


    "Blilly," Peter sputtered, his surprise at seeing the creature so huge it momentarily made him forget he was not human anymore.


    "Tis I," the warthog proclaimed, in a voice so deep it made everything around it rumble, "Once renowned as the magnificent Billy, I am now in possession of the majestic name of ''Artois''!"


    The change, not only in voice, but also in demeanor, was such that Peter kept forgetting he was human no longer, "Sho you''rs notch Blilly?"


    The warthog looked down upon him with a condescending glare, saying, "A new form demands a new name. Tell me, little lizard, what is your name?"


    Oh god, I am a lizard, aren''t I, Peter thought, stunned momentarily. Then he regained his cold-blooded wits and said, "I''m Phether!"


    "Feather? What an odd and unremarkable name for a lizard. Very well, Feather, I - the imperial Artois - greet your insignificant self on this arduous path you have set yourself upon."


    "Greeetings, Feeeather and Artooois," said the ox, startling the lizard now known as ''Feather'', whose lizard-like attention span had let the continued existence of the massive beast evaporate from his mind.


    "And to you, honorable guardian of this great desert of soul-crushing solitude. Do you have any suggestions for the path ahead? This insignificant little lizard must walk the road."


    "Waith," the ''insignificant lizard'' objected, "My name ith notch Feather, itch Phether..!"


    "Seize your useless prattling, Feather. You have already introduced yourself, no need to keep trying to get my royal attention. Now, guardian, what do you suggest this pathetic creature before you do?"


    "Yooou shooul listen tooo yoour cooompanion, Feeather," scolded the mild-mannered ox, "Yooou aare luucky tooo haave oone, aafter aall. I myself aaam stuuuck heere becaaause I looost myy cooompanion waaay baack wheen..."


    The form now known as Feather felt this was all very unfair and extremely patronizing, especially when the two chastizing him were ten to twenty times bigger than he was.

 The Long and Road of it

    "Onwards we must go, dear guardian. Can you point us in the wrong direction?" Artois said, raising his tusks mightily into the air.


    "Aren''th we shupposed tcho juscht go anywhere?" Asked the newly christened Feather, slowly acclimating to his new form and name.


    "When one walks the Random Road, Pitiful One, it is often more useful to know the wrong direction, than to know where any one direction may lead. Are you satisfied? Good. Guardian, if you please."


    Grumbling, Feather instead focused on gaining the full control of his limbs, and more importantly his mouth. He was still thinking like a human, and it was hindering his speech.


    "Yoouu shoouuld avooid the shadooows out here," said the ox, shaking its head lazily back and forth, "There are daark things beneaaath the saaand."


    "What kind of thinsch," Feather asked.


    "Pancaaakes," the ox answered, its expression as serious as a grave.


    "Pancakes?" Feather said, his tongue getting tied correctly around this time.


    "Pancakes indeed," Artois hummed, nodding his majestic head with all the gravitas of his royal composure.


    "Sand pancakes," the ox elaborated, without really adding any useful information whatsoever.


    "Sand pancakes will do you in, if not careful. Take heed, Feather, this is what''s important on the Random Road."


    Looking from one giant animal to the other, Feather resolved that he would never understand this strange world.


    Seeing as there was not a shadow in sight, Feather was not really sure what to do with the ox''s information, but when Artois insisted he choose a direction to go, and be ''careful of shadows'', he finally flicked his tongue and chose as straight as possible.


    What had at first been an orange-tinged landscape, quickly turned out to be an endless sea of sand dunes in all sizes and forms. Walking up one was as good as walking up the next, and the little lizard soon found his new size both a blessing and a curse.


    A blessing, since he would not have been able to endure the trek or the heat in his very ordinary form, and a definite curse since his small size made even the smallest dune into a relative mountain.


    From above, something approximating a sun baked down, although it looked more like a egg on a pan, sunny side up, than a celestial orb formed eons ago by a powerful gravitational implosion within a nebula.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Why isn''t it just changing, you know, like it did before?" Feather finally asked Artois, after cresting another dune and being reminded of his own insignificance in this grandiose environment.


    The floral white warthog looked at the lizard, like a king would a peon, and said, "The only way to walk the road--"


    "--Is to be ''random''; yes I get it. But why, when I have been walking in an ostensibly ''random'' direction for what seems an eternity, am I not getting anywhere?"


    "That depends on you definition of ''anywhere''. We are moving, thus we are ''getting''. The fact you cannot identify the ''anywhere'' does not mean we are not already there."


    "That makes no sense..." Feather said, relishing a sudden cool wind blowing across him. Getting out of the sun for a while sure was nice. He might just pause here for a while and get some rest. Looking up, he marveled at the sudden black spot upon the sunny-side-up-sun, seeing it grow a little bigger.


    And bigger.


    "Is that a shadow?" He asked, confused. Did it count as a shadow if it came from the sun?


    "No, I''m afraid that''s a pancake," Artois answered matter-of-factly.


    "A what?"


    "A sand pancake. I suggest you move. Quick as you can."


    His small eyes widened for all they were worth, as the oncoming shadow grew to the size of a building, and only growing bigger. Leaping with all of his lizard grace, Feather scrambled to get out of the shadow. The sand beneath his little feet provided scant friction for his frightful leaps. Whatever agility he had gained in the transformation was all put to the test, as the wicked sound of something massive coming right down at him became louder and louder.


    "Artois! Save me!"


    "Absolutely not. You cannot expect a king to perform the task of a villein." The warthog nimbly moved away, in several graceful leaps, and was out of danger. Feather screamed as he ran, sensing he would be too slow. In a last ditch effort, Feather jumped for all he was worth, as something gently passed by the tip of his tail.


    He landed safely. A hollow boom. Then an eruption of sand sent him flying into the air again. Still screaming for all his little lungs were worth, Feather landed down the slope of the sandy dune and made several summersaults before coming to a very sudden and painful halt.


    Staggering, he got back onto his four feet, raising his head come face to face with the most massive pancake he had ever seen, gently folding itself over the very top of the dune. He tried to say something but words failed him.


    After a long moment, the pancake began cracking up; its surface shattering and shredding apart. Over another minute, it further dissolved, turning into smaller and smaller pieces until it was finally just sand.


    Looking from the spectacle and back to his supposed ''companion'', Feather was having a hard time controlling his jaw.


    "That..." He finally said, gaining control of both himself and his jaw, "The ox said it was beneath the sand, not up in the damn sky!"


    "It said beware of shadows first. You should learn to listen, Feather, it would suit you."


    "No, but the danger was supposed to come from beneath the sand, not from above!"


    "What part of the Random Road are you still not getting?"


    Feather screamed in frustration. This was incredibly stupid. It was wrong, this place was wrong, these things were all wrong, and he was being encased by another shadow...


    "It''s not fair! It''s not fair! It''s not fair!" He screamed and ran despite knowing it was absolutely hopeless. The pancake hit him like sledgehammer.

 The High Road Is The Way To Hell

    An earth shattering boom jolted Feather''s world, and he screamed. He continued to scream as the sand slid harmlessly off him and faded into the desert beneath.


    "I''m okay..." He sighed, relaxing his little body.


    "Well... this is surprising..." Said Artois, looking at Feather in his most regal manner.


    "You didn''t know?"


    "How would I? My royal self has never been foolish enough to be trapped under such a measly trap."


    Feather looked around. The desert was still the way it had always been. Desert-y.


    Something tugged at his feet.


    "I do not understand why any of this is happening. Do we just keep walking?" He asked, trying to get his feet to move.


    "You can try."


    "What do you mean ''try''? Surely we just.." He was stuck. Blinking, Feather looked down upon his scaly feet and observed how magnificently stuck they were.


    "What now? Is it going to suck me in or something?"


    Artois studied Feather''s stuck feet with an expert''s demeanor. "I think," said the white warthog, "That we may discover what the guardian meant by ''evil beneath the sand''."


    "I--" Feather got no further before a pulse from beneath hit his small figure, sending it flying up in the air. Screaming from the top of his lungs, Feather saw how the desert dunes became smaller and smaller, while the field itself grew wider and wider.


    Was this really a place that insisted on sending him to his death?


    The wind resistance was overpowering. He had to close his eyes. He could not breathe. Oh God, I can''t breathe...


    He kept going up and up. Never stopping, never ending. Like his fall, only... up. After another eternity, he finally reached the apex of his flight, his speed slowing until it came to a stop. Weightless, he hung in the air, awaiting the inevitable gravitational tug of the world.


    Wait... Carefully, he opened his eyes. The wait seemed endless, as if gravity was waiting for him to figure out the trick on his own. Of course, in a world where things are random, there may even be random instances of random help from the random environment.


    Shocked, Feather found himself drifting in the air, without anything tugging him down. Around him, a plethora of soft-cotton clouds hung about - despite them very obviously not having been present in the desert sky before.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "What''s this?"


    Something grabbed him and forcefully dragged him through the air, through misty clouds, until Feather came face to face with an eyeball. He was pulled slightly back, and the eyeball turned out to be two eyeballs set in a face that one might instinctively describe a chubby and angelic. A cherub, indeed.


    "Are you a new toy?" The cherub asked, its giant face tilting to the side. It sat on a cloud, beside a bucket of sand.


    "I am--" his desperate voice cracked, and Feather had to gulp to regain the ability to speak, "I am Feather, or Peter, or whatever name you will accept. Please don''t kill me."


    "Kill you?" The cherub tilted his head to the other side, "Why should I kill you? I don''t kill my toys, I use them. Will you be my toy?"


    "S-sure," he said, desperate to get on this creature''s good side.


    "Oh.. And you even brought an extra toy with you," said the Cherub, picking out something from the bucket, revealing the haughty form of Artoir. "Who are you?"


    "I am the mighy, the indometable, the inscrutable, and majestic Artois!" Said the guide, seemingly undaunted by the mighty cherub. Said Cherub furrowed its brows and pouted.


    "I don''t like you."


    "I am inclined to return the sentiment, evil-doer."


    The giant tilted its head for the third time. "I am evil?" It said.


    "You are."


    "And what of you?"


    "I am all the greatness of the world, contained within the mightiness that is I."


    "Stupid," said the Cherub, shaking its head, "You are not a good toy. I think I will kill you."


    "Wait, wait, please wait!" Feather said, shaking all of his limbs to get the giant''s attention, "Please let him stay with me. He''s all I''ve got!"


    "But you have me now?" Said the cherub, innocent eyes zoning in on feather with all the malice that only a baby''s face can achieve, "You don''t need him, Feather."


    "He''ll be good, I promise! Please, I''ll do whatever you want. Let him stay, please."


    "Alright, then we will do this. I have a great place for you; I will let you stay there with this thing for as long as you can show me something fun. How''s that?"


    "Good good! I''ll do it!"


    "Great. Here you go." With a casual throw, the cherub flung Feather towards the sandy bucket. Having been thrown around so much, Feather wasn''t too afraid this time. He was a bit concerned about the rate of which he was growing accustomed to the Random Road, though.


    With his tounge flapping by the side of his face, Feather flew into the bucket, which at first seemed like a short flight. The moment he was past the edge of the bucket, he watched as the whole thing expanded, growing an entire world out of nothing. Or, rather, an old world, since this was exactly the sandy desert he had just come from. Realizing the drop was a lot greater than he had initially thought, Feather could not help himself from screaming in desperation.


    "Oh stop being so pathetic," Through the roaring wind, Artois'' voice still managed to penetrate into Feather''s ears.


    Seeing the warthog leasurely drop through the air beside him, with surprising elegance, Feather finally managed to stop his instinctual screaming.


    "Will I be alright?" He asked, knowing how stupid the question was.


    "Haven''t you been until now?"


    Sure. He had been surviving so far. In this place there was no knowing what constituted mortal danger. With that in mind, Feather hit the ground again with another massive boom. Though every fiber of his being told him it should have hurt like all hell, there was barely a tickle.


    "Well, that wasn''t so bad," he managed to say after spitting out all the sand he had swallowed.


    "Perhaps you would like to rethink that?" Said Artois. Feather looked over at the guide, but the warthog was looking up into the air. confused, Feather looked up into the sky, recognizing the shadow coming for him. Knowing there was no escape, Feather closed his eyes and accepted what was coming.


    The pancake hit him like a sledgehammer... again.

 Either You Name the Road, or the Road Names You

    This time, with Feather''s surrender, the pancake hitting felt only like a slight tickle. When he opened his eyes, he was once again looking upon the desert, but from an even lower perspective than before.


    His feet had sunk in deep this time.


    Feeling a bit of his old common sense''s urgency, Feather tugged and tried to release himself to no avail. There was no pulse this time, though. Instead, he felt himself getting dragged deeper into the sand, with no leverage to pull himself out again.


    "Artois, can you get out?"


    The warthog looked at him with all the most condescending look, as he proclaimed, "Why should I try to get out? Why should I do anything other than what I please to do?"


    "Can you please stop it with the royal mightiness? Is there anything you can do to get us out?"


    "I do not believe that evil will let us do anything other than what it wants."


    Feather''s belly made contact with the sand and was quickly being consumed by it. "You say it''s an evil. What does that mean?"


    "The Random Road cares little for morality, but even here there is evil. Those who attempt to impose order upon the road are deemed the greatest of evils."


    Feather had no time to respond, as the sand pulled his body under, after which his neck and body quickly followed. It felt like being pulled under water, except it was a lot more oppresive, and if he opened his mouth it would fill with sand rather than water.


    Unable to breathe, Feather let himself be dragged further, without resisting. The cherub had said it did not want to kill him, which meant it wanted to do something else with him.


    Only, what?


    Somehow, even without breathing, Feather survived another long descent; this one markedly slower than the last.


    Finally, after eons of keeping his mouth tightly shut, Feather felt the tension around his body disappear as suddenly as it had started. With a ''plop'' he fell the last few meters down upon a solid stone floor. Opening his eyes, Feather found himself in a large circular room, with black stone tiles on the floor, white panels on the surrounding wall. All of it was lit up by a series of torches.


    Beside him, Artois fell upon the ground as well. Rising up on his haunches, the mighty warthog observed its new kingdom.


    "This is your new home, Feather," said the voice of the cherub, its voice resounding through the chamber without any obvious source. "You will have some visitors soon. I want you to show them a good time. Before that, though, I need to do something about that meager appearance of yours."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Sensing a tug at his tail, Feather tried to escape by quickly turning around himself, but it was useless. An invisible force was holding him fast. No amount of wriggling or fighting would allow him to escape, as the invisible force began tugging at his legs, his head, and body.


    He felt like he was a piece of clay in the hands of a toddler; an apt description, considering the circumstances.


    When the tugging finally ended, Feather found the room had shrunk considerably. Except, it had not. He had grown bigger. Looking down at himself, he was now a mighty lizard beast with strong legs ending in horrifying talons, a spiked tail that lazily whipped back and forth with his every motion, and a strong body with rippling muscles.


    Hot damn!


    "No, no... it''s not good enough," Said the voice of the cherub, and Feather could almost feel the baby''s head shaking despite being unable to see it, "Your form is too simple. You need something more."


    With another tug, the invisible force grasped his foremost shoulder and ripped something out. Screaming with instinctual pain, Feather soon realized there was none. Looking at his back, Feather could now see to huge bat-like wings bloom from the base of his shoulder.


    "There we are... that''s better. Now we just need to give you a final touch."


    The force grabbed his throat and forced his great head into a vertical position, then opened his mouth. Out of thin air, a portal opened and something spilled out into his mouth.


    "Eat it, Feather," the voice commanded.


    He did as he was told.


    At first it was not so bad, but soon he felt his entire mouth was on fire. He tried to look at what the damn cherub was feeding him, and soon recognized the sight of spicy peppers. Very spicy peppers.


    The flow continued, until Feather felt both his throat and stomach was beginning to flame up. With a roar, he freed himself from the invisible force and tried to spit out the remaining peppers.


    Instead, a huge roaring flame erupted from his maw, instantly heating the cool chamber up.


    Surprised, he closed his mouth, still feeling the massive fire burn in his throat. Only, it was no longer unpleasant.


    "There we are: a real firebreathing dragon. Just as a last boss should be, don''t you agree?" The voice laughed, a pearly laugh that was somewhat like that of a baby''s - unsettlingly so.


    Feather tried to speak, bu the moment he opened his mouth a tongue of flame flew out again. He quickly smothered it between his - now - massive fangs.


    "Haha, you look magnificent, Feather. What am I saying, ''Feather'' is such a boring name. A new form demands a new name, after all. From now on you are Terbanac, my mighty dragon and last boss of this dungeon!"


    Dungeon? Terbanac thought, looking around. Was this the boss chamber?


    "Hmph.. to let yourself be named by others. How low have you sunken, pitiful one?" Artois asked, huffing in mighty disappointment. Terbanac looked at his guide, whom he now towered over. Opening his mouth to speak, he instead let out a gout of flame, right at the warthog.


    Sniffing with contempt, the guide jumped elegantly to the side, spun around in a way that his body should not allow, and landed gracefully on all four legs.


    I''m sorry! Terbanac thought, a bit of Feather and Peter''s old submissive attitudes shining through.


    "You will let yourself become a toy?" Artois asked, huffing again, "This king is disappointed in you, pitiful one."


    "Oh right," The voice of the cherub said, "You''re also here. A mighty dragon needs a suitable underling, don''t you agree?"

 To Decide the Road of Others is Power

    "This king will not be changed by evil hands!" Artois exclaimed and, even as Terbanac could see the invisible force pulling at the warthog, he spun around himself, creating a cartoonish illusion of a whirlwind. The invisible force pulled back, and the whirlwind grew.


    Even Terbanac had to move back to avoid the growing monstrosity, taking away precious space for his own oversized form.


    Roaring, the whirlwind came to a halt, and instead of the mighty warthog, a gigactic, squishy octopus lay on the stone floor, its huge eyes staring at Terbanac with slight accusation.


    "Even as you allow yourself to be changed, I remain steadfast," the octopus spoke in burps, its voice warping as if it was somehow underwater. "A new name demands a new form. I am Basos, adjudicator of your deepest crimes."


    After proclaiming this, Basos spun up on his eight squishy arms and jumped. Twisting in the air, the gigantic creature somehow landed on the roof of the chamber. It''s soft exterior wobbled and took on a similar color to the surroundings. As it faded in with the roof, it even seemed to melt together with material. Its massive body fused with the rocky roof, and what remained were only two large eyes, looking down on Terbanac from above.


    "If this is the road you have chosen, you will not walk the Random Road for long."


    Its words burped through the chamber, echoing as it faded into the roof.


    "Enough about that boorish thing," said the voice of the cherub, "Terbanac, great dungeon boss, invaders have entered your great realm. You must do whatever you can to protect it, and defeat them. Also, you have to make it an interesting watch. Do you understand?"


    Terbanac nodded, knowing he would have to appease this cherubic creature if he wanted to continue living, even if his guide would judge him harshly for it.


    From the center of the room, a pedistal slowly rose out of the floor. Atop it, a basin of water projected a mirror-like image of the roof - and Basos'' accusing eyes. Terbanac ignored the guide as he looked into the water surface, and saw the image ripple and change. Soon, the image of a merry band of adventurers instead became visible.


    There were three of them, and all of them a clich¨¦ in their own right. There was the mighty barbarian warrior, with his bare chest marred with warpaint; the nimble rogue, whose face was obscured beneath a hood and mask; and a wizard, with ancient features and a tell-tale, pointy hat.


    These are my prey, Terbanacle thought, feeling excitement rising from within. It was a strangely different sensation from his time as the mediocre Peter, or the terrified Feather. He felt powerful and masterful.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    He could do absolutely anything.


    As the party entered into the corridors of the dungeon, Terbanacle began his reign of terror by sending a bunch of imps to test out the group. The little critters barely reached the adventurers knees, but they were many.


    Jumping out of small crawlspaces in the rocky walls, the critters attacked from both sides at once. The warrior roared, gaining the attention of the imps, who jumped onto his bare-skin body and chewed away. Swinging his arms, he flung away the imps, wiping them off as one wiped away a disgusting insect.


    The rogue flashed by, stabbing any and all within reach. The dark figure was like a shadow as it passed back and forth, stabbing and killing the impotent imps continuously.


    Meanwhile, the wizard began mumbling. Sparks jumped from his outstretched fingers, as well as every time he stabbed the ground with his gnarled stick. The imps were completely defenseless against the electric attacks.


    "This is only the beginning," Terbanac mumbled; his inner monologue escaping his mouth because of a growing case of demon-lord-syndrome.


    The group survived and made it further down the corridor, where Terbanac had prepared traps of the most sinister kind. Just as the warrior was about to step onto the tile that what release a spike through his foot, the rogue stopped him.


    With quick hands, the rogue disarmed the trap, then surveyed their surroundings.


    "Hmph, you may have seen through it this time, but can you both fight and check for traps?" Terbanac was now speaking his words louder; a few gouts of flame still escaping from his maw with every breath.


    Above, the eyes of Basos narrowed.


    The group continued, entering a wider chamber that Terbanac had prepared. In here, imps would descend from the walls while traps were littered about. There were pit traps, mechanical spikes, fire traps, poison darts and so, so much more.


    "This will be your doom!" Terbanacle was now fully shouting, flame roaring from deep within his throat.


    The group entered, and the Rogue immediately cautioned them. Having dismantled and guided them around every obstacle until now, this Rogue quickly assessed the danger.


    Carefully, he led them forwards. Once they were completely inside the chamber, Terbanacle shut the door behind them and let loose the imps.


    Streaming down from the walls like a putrid stream, the critters descended upon the group with giggling delight. The Warrior roared and taunted them, forcing them to focus on his burly body while the Rogue spun around him, triggering traps and getting out of the way - all while stabbing anything moving that came too close.


    The Wizard kept back, allowing the Warrior enough room to maneuver as he chanted his spells. Terbancle roared in delighted and masterful laughter. These small fools would die now.


    At least that was the plan. This time, the Wizard let off no electric attacks, but just mumbled away, letting the Warrior and Rogue do all the work. When he had finally completed his chant, he threw up his arms, and finally unleashed his spell. Pillars of electric currents split the air, spinning violently as they triggered every trap, charred every imp, and chipped the walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber.


    Screaming in fury, Terbanacle had to watch as his masterplan was ruined.


    "Very well, pitiful fools. I shall take care of you myself!" He said, arrogantly asserting his next step in a monologue. Meanwhile, the eyes above narrowed to slits.

 Battle Over the Road to Take

    "Muhahaahhaha," Terbanacle was already picturing his magnificent victory over the feeble adventurers. Meanwhile, the group itself stopped just outside his chamber, making the final preparations.


    "You lose yourself to the form," Besos said, his giant eyes were almost indistinguishable from the ceiling itself. "You will lose your way, if you try to take control of the path of others."


    "Shut up!" Terbanacle roared, fury growing in his chest, "This is the first time I have actually felt as if I belong here. What''s so bad about taking control of others? I will deal with them, and everyone else who dares enter my domain."


    "Your domain is a well, and you are sitting at the bottom of it," was all his guide said, closing its eyes completely.


    Ignoring the useless companion, Terbanacle turned his attention on the door to his chamber, which he knew the group would soon open up. They would fight, and he would tear them apart as a show of faith to his master.


    A crack in the door signified their entrance, and Terbanacle was ready with a well-thought-out monologue.


    "Adventurers," he bagan, his voice deep and embossed with the flames that still escaped his maw from time to time, "You have done well to come here to this final room. I am the great Terbanacle, master of fire and torment, ruler of the underworld, and your final doom!"


    The adventurers looked at one another, then looked back at the dragon. "You what, mate?" Said the warrior, scratching his chin.


    "I am your doom feeble mortal!"


    "This one has gotten hit over head, hasn''t he," the warrior said, turning to his companions.


    "It is surely the curse of being a stupid lizard," said the Rogue, voice amorphous.


    "A foolish creature," agreed the wizard, laughing while stroking his long graying beard.


    "You dare make fun of this mighty form?!" Terbanacle roared and spit out a long gout of flame. The adventurers jumped to the side, deftly avoiding the fire.


    "This one has teeth," The warrior laughed, raising his giant weapon - an axe the size of a table.


    Growling, Terbanacle swung at the warrior with the sharp talons on his claws. The warrior received the claw with his weapon and held fast, allowing the Rogue to get close.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Terbanacle used his tail to hit the rogue and fling him away. Strangely he felt no resistance, as his tail hit the dark shadow and sent it flying. A sharp jolt reminded him of the wizard, who had been mumbling for himself for a while.


    "You will all regret this," Terbanacle growled, sending another breath of flame towards the wizard. The warrior spun and gave in, making Terbanacle lose his balance. The wizard did not even move, as Terbanacle''s fire missed him by a hair.


    Furious, the dragon raised himself high his massive legs, scraping up against the ceiling with his spiky back. "FOOLS!" He roared, getting lost in his own anger. Just as he was about to just step on the warrior, a slight prick to his neck alerted him that something was wrong.


    Craning to see what was going on, he found the rogue sitting at the base of his neck stabbing away. "You dare!" He said, although it was absolutely useless to just yell at them. The wizard proved this moments later, when he sent a pillar of electricity straight into his chest.


    Screaming, Terbanacle was pushed back, rolled over his back and got up on his feet in several clumsy movements. He unfurled his wings, only to find that there was not enough room in this place for wings.


    Then why do I have wings, if I can''t use them?!


    There was no point in thinking about it now. He took in one deep breath and let out his most impressive firebreath to date. The adventurers skipped and jumped, and yet they could not avoid the fire. The warrior finally hunkered down behind his axe, the wizard extended his hands until a illusory shield appeared, and the rogue just vanished into thin air.


    The fire flowed across the room, spinning and rebounding. Terbanacle used all the fire in his belly, all the spices he had been forced to swallow, and expelled it all in one great breath.


    "Take that, fools!" He laughed when finally finished, "You are nothing before me!"


    "Say, is that thing a complete idiot?"


    Through the devastation, the voice of the warrior was a clear and untroubled as ever. Shocked, Terbanacle widened his eyes, seeing all three adventurers completely unscathed by his attack.


    "It appears it does not realize what is happening," said the wizard, laughing once more while stroking his beard.


    "What are you talking about?" Terbanacle condescended to ask, fury boiling within, even as there was no fire left to burn.


    "Don''t you see?" Asked the rogue, reappearing without a scratch on him, "You''re playing the part of evil in a story. Of course, in stories, evil always loses, right?"


    "What the hell are you talking about," Terbanacle said contemptuously, "I am the most powerful creature in existence... I. am. Terbanacle!"


    "Ye''re a great big lizard with a bit of fire in your belly," laughed the warrior, "Nothing to be afraid of. You got strength, aye, but that''s about it."


    "No... No, it cannot be so." His conviction was faltering. Deciding these foolish creatures were just trying to confuse him, Terbanacle charged. With his mighty body, he would smash the mortal into little pieces.


    Grinning, the warrior met his charge, using the massive axe as a shield. Terbanacle put everything he had into this blow, knowing he was bigger and had more strength than the meagre body of this mortal could ever hope to have.


    The unstoppable force met the immovable object, and the object won.


    Crashing into the warrior head-first, Terbanacle felt his mind grow dizzy with the blow. Slight pricks on his belly told him the rogue was attacking from beneath, and behind the warrior the wizard was charging up for another attack.


    No... no, it cannot be true. I cannot be bested... I am TERBANACLE!

 Taking The Wrong Road Just Means You Have To Go Back

    Of course, he was not ''Terbanacle''. He was Peter, a mediocre man with an average life that would never go anywhere. He was Feather, a misunderstood little lizard taking his first step on the Random Road.


    He was not the mighty ''Terbanacle'', vanquisher of heroes, master of this dungeon because he had decided to be. He was Terbanacle - according to someone else.


    How could a form an name granted by others ever be his own.


    In the stalemate between himself and the warrior, Terbanacle suddenly realized why Besos had admonished him so. All of this, the road on which he had met eccentric Billy; the desert which he had walked with the majestic Artois; or this dungeon where Besos now oversaw him with great scrutiny, in all of these places the guide had imposed upon him the importance of names in particular.


    While the rogue pricked away at his belly, scoring deep wounds burning like the fire that had once burned in his throat, Terbanacle understood why he could not push this warrior back.


    The stalwart man was grinning from ear to ear, laughing as he held back Terbancle''s enourmous form. This man surely had a name which he had taken himself; one that granted him the strength he currently possessed. The wizard as well. The murmurring of the old man continued to drone on, and Terbanacle knew the blow would come soon.


    He would have to take a different name. Opening his mouth, Terbanacle was about to proclaim a name he could find strength in, but no word could escape his throat.


    Above, the eyes of Basos finally opened again, and he spoke softly - so soft only Terbanacle could hear him, "You have accepted both the form and the name. You cannot change what has already been done. You must own what was done to you; change the nature of what was done to you."


    Roaring with pain and desperation, Terbanacle intensified his efforts to push away the warrior, while holding fast in his head who he was, and imposing that understanding onto his form.


    He was mediocre. He was ordinary. He was fearful and cowardly. He was nothing like the Terbanacle as imagined by the cherub.


    "It is done," said the wizard, interrupting Terbanacle''s focus when he extended his hands and unleashed a torrent of electricity.


    The electric current hit him like a hammer, throwing him backwards. Terbanacle rolled around several times, suffered several fractures to his dragon bones, and finally scraped across the floor like a lifeless mouse.


    In the end... maybe this is right for someone like me...You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Ahh to end things. To be done with this crazy nightmare. What joy that would be. If only he could stop being in this unhealthy and terrible place, and return to the void. Or maybe there was an afterlife... Who but the dead would know.


    He would surely know soon.


    I may be just another random idiot, trying to discover some meaning to it all... Terbanacle... What a foolish name. A foolish name for a foolish man.


    Basos'' soothing voice then flowed through him, like water in a gently stream - a deep ocean current, moving with the haste of eons, "If the road you walk is the wrong one, just return to the last juncture and try again."


    Return? Could he return? He was certain he could not become Feather again, or Peter. Those forms were gone now, as were the names that followed. The only path he could take was the one that had led him to believe ''Terbanacle'' to be powerful.


    A itch in his throat began tickling him.


    Terbanacle is a fool, as if the one who named him. I am a fool.


    "Oh whoa, look. It''s still moving." He heard the voice of the warrior, the one who had taunted him the most.


    Terbanacle is a toy, but I am not. I am Terbanacle, therefore Terbanacle is not a toy.


    The tickle grew into a scratch. He could feel something wanting to escape. "Kill it quickly, we have to move on... remember what that giant baby said? Get moving already."


    So that is how it is...They are toys, just like Terbanacle. Just like Terbanacle was!


    Strength returning, the scratch became a flicker, then a flame. Terbanacle opened his eyes and stood back up, facing the small figures. Now he truly looked at them, he saw how tiny they were. They were like toy soldiers, like figurines given shape and form by someone else. Given purpose by someone else.


    The flame within grew, and Terbanacle opened his mouth to expel it.


    "Haha, look! It''s still trying."


    "It''s very cute... Still, get it over with."


    Roaring, Terbanacle let out the flame. True flame, not like the fake flame the Cherub had fed him. It was a true flame because he believed it to be a true flame.


    Scorching hot and orange, the flames escaped his maw with all the eagerness to burn. The adventurers opened their eyes wide, surprised. Not at the flame itself, but at the sudden danger they all felt in this moment.


    The warrior set down his shield. The wizard created his illusory barrier. The rogue disappeared.


    The flame hit the warrior first, burning away his axe in an instant. Screaming in pain, the warrior dropped the weapon and retreated with his hand burned to a crisp. The wizard faltered, his mumbling speed increasing. In the end, his barrier broke and the fire consumed him, burning away his precious beard. The rogue reappeared in the middle of the burning sea, black clothes aflame. Yelling, the rogue attempted to jump out of the flame, but there was nowhere to go.


    In the end, Terbanacle took pity on the poor toys and released the flame. As it dissipated into nothingness, the poor figurines huddled together in the opposite end of the circular room, looking at him with fearful gazes.


    "How...?" the warrior asked, shaking his blackened fist in front of him as if he was trying to wave away the reality in front of him.


    "I am Terbanacle," he said, calmly and in control.


    "Finally," Besos said, his voice now booming through the chamber, "You have returned onto the road. Where will you go now?"


    The adventurers looked wide-eyed on, as the gigantic octopus appeared from the ceiling, plopping down on the ground and leveled its judgemental gaze onto Terbanac.


    Raising his head, Terbanac looked at the ceiling which held him imprisoned here.


    "Up," he answered.

 Walk Up the Road to See the Top

    Besos'' accusatory look lightened slightly. Terbanacle eyed the giant creature, pondering what the guide''s role was in this.


    "Will you come?" He asked, uncertain.


    "You will walk the road, and I will guide you," said the octopus, its voice a bubbling burp, "That is my judgement."


    "Very well," said Terbanac. He gave the figurines one last look-over. They were such pitiful things. Huddling by the wall, they held one another, their eyes wide with fear.


    "Are you really afraid of me now?" He asked them, closing in on them with his giant head.


    "Y-y-you just... you just broke the story. The b-b-b-baby will not be happy," said the rogue, who was now unmasked. The dark mask and hood had hid the face of woman with short-cropped hair. She looked at him with an absolutely terrified expression.


    "This is not a place for stories," Terbanacle said, now finally understanding some of what was going on, "This is the Random Road. Predictable stories have no place here."


    With those words he turned his attention to the ceiling. He knew it was there, he knew it obstructed him; only, he knew it was not there, and it was not obstructing him.


    Will was everything here, this he had learned. If he allowed others to impose their will onto him, he would get stuck. If he wanted to keep walking the road, he would have to impose his will upon himself and his surroundings.


    Like smoke in a mirror, the ceiling disappeared from view. Instead, an open sky greeted him. He was not deep underground, in some massive dungeon. He was merely in a small hole in the ground. A small well which had been his world.


    Unfurling his wings, Tabernacle could finally unleash the form in the manner it was supposed to. With a powerful beat he left behind the figurines.


    His first action was simply to fly out of the small hole. Landing once more in the desert, he looked back down. It seemed such a small and insignificant thing now. From the depths, a balloon-like object ascended, rising until Tabernacle recognized Basos'' squishy form. The adjudicating guide was floating upwards, using his arms to swim through the air, as if it was water.


    "Can you keep up?" Terbanacle asked.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "You worry about yourself, Terbanacle. I have deemed you worthy enough for that name, but if you really go up the road will get hard for you."


    The octopus spoke so amiably that he almost felt it was alien. It felt like it actually respected him. How strange.


    "What matters is not where you go, but that you go somewhere, right?"


    "Indeed."


    "Then let''s not waste time. I have a score to settle with someone who gave me an unpleasant experience."


    "It is a good choice, although difficult. Your judgement is sound."


    The octopus flicked one of its arms in the air, and from nothing retrieved a crooked top hat. With all the gravitas of a judge, Besos placed the top hat on its own massive head.


    Terbanacle nodded, then truly unfurled his wings again. Such a pleasant sensation. With unrestrained joy, he beat the majestic limbs and raised himself into the air. Aiming straight up, he nonetheless had to ascend in circular motions.


    In the center of his ascent, Besos lazily kept up as if he was on a simple swim through the air. Together, the dragon and octopus escaped the confines of the bucket, rising over the edge and coming face to face with the cherub once more.


    Though Tabernacle had been big compared to the figurines - big compared to the small chamber - he was more like a sparrow relative to the giant cherub. It sat facing them, still on its imperceptible cloud, chubby arms crossed over its chest.


    "You''re no fun," it said, pouting its lips as they came out of the bucket, entering the cloudy realm.


    "I am just walking the road, as I should have done from the start," Tabernacle said, trying to look the cherub straight in the eyes. He had to focus on one eye to manage it, but he felt confident. His will was guiding him now.


    "Walking the road is no fun," the cherub said, repetitively, "Once you''ve walked it long enough you will realize this as well. Leave that stupid guide behind and follow me, Tabernacle. Just look at what I could do to you; I can teach you that and more. You just need to help me make toys, and I won''t try to take control."


    "You once walked the road?" He asked, genuienly curious. He had thought this cherub an existence like Besos; native to the Random Road.


    "Of course I did. That''s how the guides get you, you know. They want you to walk, and you walk. If you chose to come here, you might have a reason to do so, but I was thrown in here. Why should I walk the road when I have no reason to? Just to walk. That is stupid. Much better to find some amusement."


    "You can always return onto the road," said Besos, hovering beside Tabernacle, "All you need to do is go back where you came from and pick the better path."


    "Stupid, stupid, stupid," the cherub wailed and punched the clouds beneath and around him in a tantrum, "Stupid guides; always talking about ''the road'' and ''go back'' or ''go there''! It makes no sense, and why should it!?"


    Tabernacle looked at the cherub and finally saw it for what it was: a giant baby. It had only itself in its sight, its own enjoyment, its own satisfaction. Although he had taken on both the name and the form, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of anything this child had imposed upon him in the first place.


    "I am leaving," he said, as composed as he could be, "And you will not stop me."


    The cherub stopped throwing its arms around and instead broke into a huge, wicked grin. "Oh? You think I''ll just let you leave?"

 The Road Might As Well Be Chance

    "You will not let me go? Do you want to fight, then?" Tabarnacle asked, readying the fire within his belly.


    "Fight?" The cherub laughed, "How could you possibly fight me? Do you know how long I''ve been around this place? I can do things here you can''t even dream about, you little worm."


    Besos floated in between Tabarnacle and the cherub, slowly expanding in size. The octopus looked like someone was blowing it up like a baloon, as its size grew until it was equal to the cherub. As his body changed, so did his top hat. When the change was finally done, Besos spoke in his peculiar, bubbly manner, "You will do nothing, evil-doer. I was following a pitiful one before, but now he has truly begun to walk the Random Road, and therefore I will not allow you fight him unfairly."


    "Evil this, evil that... You guides are remarkably judgemental in comparison to your random ethos," mocked the cherub, shrugging his shoulder. "Surely you will not object if we play a simple game of chance?"


    "I will allow for chance," said the adjudicator imperiously, bobbing up and down, "As long as you put a wager on the line."


    "And your guidee?"


    "Will match your wager, or he will refuse the wager."


    "Very well, little Tabernacle, are you willing to play a game of chance with me?"


    Tabernacle looked from Besos to the cherub. They were both giants, making him feel like a small fly.


    Perhaps...


    Willing it, he imagined himself into a similar size as the other two. One moment he was a fly; one blink of the eyes and he was their size.


    The change felt weird. He was still getting used to the way his will could change things around him. He settled down on a cloud opposite the cherub before he answered, "If you cannot obstruct me through force, why should I take your offer?"


    The cherub smiled again. It was such a strangely malicious smile in that innocent face. "Because," it said, "You will probably do anything to get out of the form I imposed upon you."


    Tabernacle nodded. There was little he wanted more.


    "Haha, yes. I knew I was right. See this?" The cherub put his hand into the bucket of sand and pulled something up from it, "This is a transmogrifier I''ve been saving for a while. With it, you can take whatever form suits the path you''re taking. So, interested?"A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I am interested," said Tabernacle, although wary of whatever trick the cherub was trying to pull. However, with Besos the way he was right now, surely the octopus would not allow the cherub to cheat... right?


    "Good! However, you have to wager something that matches my wager. You''ve obviously not been walking the road for long, so I will tell you now: a transmogrifier is not an easy thing to come by."


    "I''m sure you have something in mind, so just tell me what you want," Tabernacle was already getting of this game-before-the-game the cherub was playing.


    "Of course, of course. What I want is simple: to match this transmogrifier, you will have to wager your guide."


    "My guide?" Tabernacle looked over at Besos, who had moved aside and was now observing the both of them from a distance, "Can I even do that?"


    "Of course you can. Right, Guide?"


    "It is allowed," said Besos.


    "I thought you didn''t want a guide. Why would you want mine?" Tabernacle asked, suspicious at the innocent face the cherub was trying to pull off.


    "It''s not about me wanting your guide, as much as me wanting you not to have a guide," said the cherub, grinning. "So, are you in or not?"


    "What kind of game are we playing?"


    "Ahh," said the cherub, putting up a finger, "That''s not part of the deal. All you need to know is that it is a game of chance, and what the stakes are."


    Tabernacle looked over at Besos, but the adjudicator was silent. Since the octopus was not speaking, the cherub was probably within his right to pose the stipulation. He had to consider carefully. Although his experiences on the road were limited, he had been told plenty of times how important the guide was.


    In contrast, he also remembered the strange woman he had met in the hut. She had not had any guide, but had recognized his. Had she been like this cherub?


    Shaking his head, Tabernacle forced himself back on-topic. The guides were important, but clearly not to the point he might die if he lost his. On the other hand...


    "I accept," he said, after stopping himself thinking too hard on it. If there was one thing he had learned over the past few experiences, it was that it was often more important to throw yourself into action than wait and think about doing it.


    "Hihiiha, very good," the chubby cherub laughed, "Observe carefully, then."


    Spreading out his arms, the cherub gathered the clouds around them into his fists. They flowed willingly, obeying the command of the cherub''s will. While they formed, sand from the bucket floated up and into the cloud in the right-hand cloud.


    Tabernacle looked on, astonished, as the sand coalesced into a ballshape within the cloud. "Look closely, little Tabernacle," said the cherub, still grinning viciously, "Take careful note of the cloud with the sand in it."


    Following the cherub''s advice, Tabernacle looked very closely. The ball of sand soon faded into the condensing cloud, before it became a grey mass approaching a dark thundercloud. The cloud in the other hand likewise turned dark, until small sparks of lighting began to crackle within. When they formed to perfectly dark spheres, the cherub removed his hands and, with a swiping motion, willed the two clouds to circle around one another at a rapid pace.


    Trying to keep his eyes on the right cloud was absolutely impossible. The Cherub''s grin told Tabernacle that this was exactly the point. When the two clouds finally came to a halt, the cherub gestured towards the two black orbs.


    "Now, littler Tabernacle, choose the cloud with sand in it."

 This is not the Road you are looking for

    "All I have to do is pick the cloud with sand in it?" Tabernacle said, observing the cherub carefully.


    "Of course."


    "So, as long as there is sand in the cloud, I win?"


    "You got it, yes."


    "And you haven''t done anything like removing the sand in a way I could not see, right?"


    "I can assure you," said Besos from the side, "That there is a cloud with sand in it."


    The two black clouds hovered in front of the cherub, obscuring their interior. It was impossible to tell the clouds apart, as they both formed perfect orbs with crackling electricity running across the otherwise smooth surface.


    Tabernacle looked to Basos. The adjudicator was watching the orbs carefully, as well, but he provided no hint as to the answer. Although, from time to time, the octopus seemed to shift its gaze to the cherub, before quickly returning to look at the orbs.


    Is there something wrong?


    No, it could not be. Since the octopus had put on its latest demeanor, it had seemed entirely impartial to all the following events. Even here, it said nothing.


    Tabernacle returned to look at the orbs. Still, there was no telling them apart, and yet he felt something was different about them. Or rather, there was something wrong about all of this. The cherub looked absolutely confident, its grin getting wider and wider every second. Surely, it could not be as simple as a fifty-fifty chance.


    "Can I inspect them closer?" He finally asked, trying to delay the decision.


    "Sure." The cherub made a gesture and the clouds floated closer. "Just don''t touch them. If you do, I will consider it your loss. Agreed, adjudicator?"


    "Agreed."


    Looking over at Basos, Tabernacle noted that the adjudicator was not keeping its eyes on the two clouds that were now floating in front of him, but rather at cherub. The cherub, in turn, was still keeping on that creepy smile.


    He inspected the clouds closely, making sure not to touch. There was still no way to tell them apart, or to tell which one held the sand. In the end, he asked the cherub to take them back.


    "Well, little Tabernacle, which cloud do you choose?"


    In the end, what could he do but take a chance?


    Sighing, Tabernacle raised a claw and pointed to one of the two clouds. The little cherub''s smile grew wider.


    Shifting slightly, he pointed to the other cloud. Again, the cherub''s smile increased slightly.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Either he is playing me, or...


    Tabernacle had to remember that he was not very clever. Whatever he did, he was just as likely to get it wrong, as he was to get it right. In the end, there was nothing else to do but to take a guess.


    And if he was going to make a guess, might as well make it a wild one.


    "I choose the cloud you''re sitting on," he finally said, arriving at the final conclusion.


    The cherub blinked. "What?"


    "I said: I choose the cloud you''re sitting on. You did not specify that I had to choose between the two clouds you''ve got in front of you."


    "No, but... Are you sure? I showed you the whole process, though. Surely you would not be foolish enough to lose your guide just by acting clever?"


    "There''s no acting," said Tabernacle, "I''m actively being stupid, since I know I can''t beat you in cleverness. If I was clever, I would have kept up with the clouds as you spun them, but I am not. Since I cannot pick between the two, it''s better to go for the third option."


    "Which is my cloud?"


    "Yes."


    "Are you sure?"


    "Enough stalling," Besos said, for the first time with a tinge of irritation, "He has made his choice, evil-doer. Reveal the answer.


    Eying the octopus, the cherub nonetheless waved his hand and dissipated the two dark orbs. One was completely empty, while the other had a small glass bead within. This surprised Tabernacle, since he had assumed the cherub had just removed the sand while he could not see it, or was distracted by the spinning clouds, but it had actually stayed in the cloud. Sighing he was about to admit defeat, when Besos spoke again.


    "I told you to reveal the answer, evil-doer, not to distract from the truth."


    The cherub showed actual anger now, flashing milky-white teeth towards the adjudicator. Finally he just pouted and said, "Very well, you are correct..."


    From within the cloud he was sitting on, a few grains of sand emerged, floating for a moment before returning to the bucket. This time, it was Tabernacle''s turn to grin. He had been right after all. For the wrong reasons, but still: he had been right. He had won this battle.


    "Take it and go away," said the cherub, flinging an object towards him and crossing his arms, "I don''t want to see you or your stupid guide before me again.


    Tabernacle grabbed the object in mid- air between his claws. It was a small flagon, most certainly with the same vile liquid in it as the last time he had enjoyed a transmogrifier. Without feeling the need to say goodbye, he left the cherub to fume, unfurling his large wings and flying off in a random direction. It did not matter which way he went after all... supposedly.


    After getting a distance between himself and the angry cherub, Tabernacle settled himself on a cloud and observed his surroundings. No matter where he looked there was nothing but clouds. Above and below there were only clouds. No matter how deep he dove, or how high he tried to go, there were always just more clouds.


    Seeing as it was useless, he instead took out the transmogrifier. It was time to rid himself of this form. Bases pulled up beside him, still floating as if he was in water. "Will you take the transmogrifier here?"


    "Might as well, right? It may be what I need to find the next path."


    "Perhaps... Just keep your own will in mind. If you leave the road again, as you did before, I cannot help you back on."


    With that in mind, Tabernacle pulled out the flagon, opened it, and drank the whole thing in one gulp. The taste was as vile as he remembered, but at least he did not throw up this time. He soon began shivering and shifting, recognizing the signs of his form changing. He would shed this imposed form and name to get a new one. With his increased understanding and willpower, surely he would get a great form this time around.


    He was so consumed by thoughts on his presumed greatness that he did not realize the cloud was increasingly unable to hold his weight. At a particularly violent shiver, he suddenly sank down to his belly. Trying to grasp at anything that might provide leverage, he scrambled about to no avail.


    Form warping about, he finally dropped out of the cloud''s underside, beginning another long fall to somewhere unknown.

 The Road Splits

    Falling through the air was now a familiar sensation to our pitiful protagonist. As such, instead of fearing for his life, he rather took the time to observe the surroundings as they became clearer. Falling like a meteor, he was beginning to see the outlines of land below him - through the cover of the clouds.


    When he finally exited the curtain of mist, he was high above a plain of markedly varied natures. Separated by seemingly arbitrary lines, the land below had four distinct areas - distinct by the very colors dominating them. One was a land of lakes and rivers, winding through and between one another in peculiar ways that made no sense. Another was a land of fire; ash spewing from the underground, as molten rock carved lines through the landscape. A third was a land of thick forests, so thick, in fact, he could no see the underground for trees and shrubbery. The fourth was a simple plain, where rocky columns stood interspersed with one another.


    The only structure he could see from his vantage was placed at the exact point where all four areas met in the center. There, upon a raised plateau, stood a magnificent, classical castle with huge battlements, a wide inner bailey, and a solid inner keep. On its myriad towers a banner fluttered gently in the wind, although he could not see what it was from this distance.


    He did not have too long to admire the wonder around him, for he was quickly reaching the ground. With only a slight hint of fear, he collided with the earth beneath, landing in the wide plain. Although the impact was significant - hollowing out an indent in the ground and sending cracks through the surroundings - he only had to keep foremost in his mind that the fall would not harm him. And indeed it did not.


    Rising from his initial landing, he could finally take the time to observe the new form he had acquired. He was somewhat humanoid again, with feet, chest, and two arms, but that was where the familiar features ended. Instead of flesh, his body was grey and brown, looking more like dirt than anything else. In truth, it was dirt. This he confirmed with a hesitant stroke of his grey hands. It felt like he had been covered in a rocky exterior interspersed with soft clay.


    Touching his face, he found he had no real features. He obviously had some kind of eyes, but he felt no mouth, nose, or ears.


    Well, at least he had rid himself of the form imposed upon him. He was free to take control of his shape and take a suitable name.


    "You''re getting used to this, aren''t you?" A squawk from his side made him look at the little bird of paradise that came floating gently down towards him. Upon its small head was a ridiculously crooked top hat.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "You were Besos? What is the name of that form?" He said, instinctively ignoring the fact he currently had no mouth. His voice was like the grating of rocks against one another, or a very dry rockslide.


    "This is the form of Poppy, I am the curious one."


    "Curious, huh? I guess I should take my own name as well."


    Poppy landed on his sturdy shoulder and tilted its head from side to side, "A name you must take, yes. Choose."


    He looked at his rocky hands, trying to think of something. This would be the first time he truly named himself - perhaps that was important? No matter, he should just say what popped into his head.


    "Since my form is rock and dirt, I suppose I should just go with Dirt."


    "A simple name," squawked Poppy, shaking its beautiful coat of feathers.


    "Is that bad?"


    "No, simple is just simple. Sometimes simple is better."


    Satisfied, Dirt began to study their surroundings from his earthly perspective. He was in the plain, stretching out around him in an almost endless maner. He could see the outlines of the other areas though, water to his left and fire to his right. He could also see the castle in the middle, standing proud in the strange landscape.


    "Where should I go?" He asked without thinking.


    "It doesn''t matter where, only that you go somewhere," the bird answered, speaking in a near monotone - impressive for a bird.


    "Of course it doesn''t," he said and shrugged. If there was no preference, he might as well go to the center and take a look at the castle, seeing it was the only actual structure around. Maybe he would find someone there.


    Stepping forward in his new form, he found it a sluggish experience. He had been agile as a lizard and powerful as a dragon. Even with the strength he felt in his limbs, he was unable to move fast due to his stiff joints. Placing one foot in front of the other demanded a huge effort, which somehow was beginning to exhaust his rocky stamina.


    Still, he made progress. Setting off in a straight line, he was approaching the large columns that were the landmarks of this massive plain. Each were at least four times his own height, and covered in rocky bulbs that looked almost like unbloomed flowers.


    When he approached the first column on his path it began to shake as soon as he stepped into a certain diameter. Where he stopped, Poppy jumped off his shoulder and flew towards the column, circling it a few times before settling back on his shoulder.


    "Do you know what it is?"


    "No. You should go closer. I want to see what it does."


    "And what if it''s dangerous? I''m too slow to run."


    "Don''t be boring -chirp! Where''s your sense of adventure?"


    "I''m not sure I ever had one..."


    "Well, you should get one. Go get, I tell you -chirp!"


    Looking at the absurd bird with the top hat, Dirt knew it was right. What else was there in this plain but these columns. He should figure out what they were now, rather than later. With that conviction, he stepped forth.

 Light the Way to your Road

    As soon as Dirt stepped close, the vibrations of pillar began. Shaking violently, the more he approached, the more it intensified. When he was but an arms length away, the rocky buds split, and soft light exploded from the center.


    Shielding his eyes, Dirt got closer, right up so he could touch the pillar. The buds unfolded fully, and the light was now like a blinding sun. There was no pain, nor did he feel any fear. Instead, the light was comforting.


    From within the many buds, the light started snaking around the pillar, concentrating on its apex. Leaving behind empty husks, the light formed a magnificent flower in all the colors of the rainbow, blooming like a lotus flower. When the flower had completely formed, a final light shot out from its center, rising like a flare to warn everyone in the surroundings.


    The flare drew a parabolic arc across the sky, falling towards the castle in the distance. Even from afar, Dirt could see how something surrounding the castle stopped the flare, resulting in another colorful display.


    Something like a shield surrounded the castle, blocking the way in. When the flare hit, the shield reacted by displacing the light around the area of impact, flickering with illusory energy.


    Meanwhile, the pillar settled into a satisfied humm. Before Dirt removed his hand, the lotus flower of light collapsed into the pillar, infusing it with its many colors. When the colors traveled down to where he was touching, it continued through his arms - coursing through like electricity through conductive material.


    The grey on his arms began glowing softly, humming in tune with the pillar in front of him. It was a pleasant tune, and a pleasant feeling, so Dirt understood this was a good thing.


    "See. Still alive, right?" Poppy closer, from its previous position at a safe distance.


    "I suppose," said Dirt, as the bird landed on his shoulder and studied the pillar with curious interest, "I just don''t know what this means." He looked towards where the shield around the castle was still dispersing the light he had inadvertently shot at it. It seemed no real challenge.


    "Maybe there is no meaning," said the bird, happily chirping away.


    "Well, something happened, at least." Said Dirt, moving back to study the pillar he had contacted. Surprisingly, he felt lighter, more in control, and faster. Looking down at himself, he could see the light still glowing throughout his shape, humming along gently.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    So that''s it. The body needs a source of energy.


    Content with his deduction, Dirt looked around the plain. There were many more pillars around, and they might all do the same as this one did. Since he had received such good results from this one, he might as well try another.


    He set into a light jog, passing across the plain with gentle speed. He was by no means fast, but he was at least moving at a steady pace.


    The second pillar he touched copied the actions of the first; sending a flare of light towards the castle before sending light back and into Dirt''s body. The sensation was even better this time than the first.


    Exhilarated by this development, Dirt ignored the castle -which had been his initial goal- in favor of the pillars, picking up more and more speed as his movements and strength increased.


    Time passed quickly, and in what felt like moments, he had ''activated'' at least half of the pillars on the plain. That was when Poppy flew out in front and stopped him, saying, "Wait, listen."


    He did so. A soft rumble permeated the landscape, out of tune with the humming of the pillars. Looking around, there was nothing to see, and yet the rumbling grew louder. When he finally started to feel the rumbling in his legs, Dirt crouched on the ground and put his head to the earth. He had no real ears, but he nonetheless picked up the rumbling even better. Still, he could not pick up what direction it was coming from.


    It seemed to come from everywhere at once, and yet there was nothing to see. Or maybe...


    Gaining his feet in an instant, Dirt started running for all he was worth. Every ounce of energy he had extracted from the many pillars was utilized to its fullest as he sped across the plain as fast as he could.


    "What is it? What is happening?" Said Poppy, lazily flying beside him.


    "It''s coming from beneath!" He yelled, concerned that the shaking was growing stronger even though he was clearly running away from its epicenter.


    "What is coming?" The bird asked, squawking carelessly, as if it did not really matter to it.


    "I DON''T KNOW!"


    There was no time for pleasantries. Behind him the earth opened up, splitting the ground apart as something moved. A loud roar hit him with enough force to help him pick up more speed. Gingerly, he dared to look back, hoping to spot whatever was causing all of this.


    The monstrous head of something ancient had come out of the earth, facing away from him. Rising up high above and swaying about, Dirt nonetheless recognized some of its features.


    "That..." He breathed, unable to cope with the unimaginable size of the creature behind him, "...Is a giant turtle."


    Right he was. The head was swaying back and forth, much like a snake, but he could clearly discern the turtle''s features. Only, if its head was poking out of the earth, then might not its body be...


    Oh shit.


    The earth below tilted violently. The turtle''s head turned a full one-hundred-eighty degrees, locking its sight on him. Pushing off on its forelegs, the entire earth rose up at an angle. The only upshot of all of this was the with the turtle''s movement, Dirt was now running down slope, providing him with precious extra speed.


    "Oh... it looks mad, Dirt," said Poppy, circiling around him without a care for the changing ground.

 Some Roads You Should Not Provoke

    It did look mad. It''s huge eyes were trained on Dirt, and he could practically feel its hostility.


    "Maybe it just wants to play," Dirt said while running with everything he had.


    "Hmm... It doesn''t look like it''s in the mood to play. I think it''s just mad."


    I roared again - madly. The earth tilted further beneath Dirt''s feet, and he felt how he began to fall down the slope, rather than controlling the speed. As it stood up, cracks formed in the plain, revealing its body beneath. Only the outer edges of the plain was spared devastation, as the creature standing up revealed the crater in which it had been resting.


    Dirt lost his step, falling head first into a somersault that kept him rolling down the steep hillside.


    "You''re almost at the edge," said Poppy, pointing with its beak towards the very arbitrary edge where the plain gave way to the fiery landscape beside it.


    Dirt had little chance of doing anything, as he was simply tumbling down. His speed only slowed when the plain began levelling, as the turtle raised itself onto its hindlegs. When his fall stopped, Dirt quickly gained his feet, evaluating his options.


    Poppy was right, there really was not far to the edge to the fire land. On the other hand, if he left now he would probably be unable to get back up on the turtle''s back. There were still a lot of pillars left, and all of them situated on the turtle''s shell, like a strange formation of spikes.


    Looking at the mad head of the turtle, however, made him drop any aspirations of gaining the energy remaining in the pillars. It was best to get out of here as quickly as possible.


    "We''re leaving," he yelled, over another roar from the turtle. As he turned away, he managed to catch a glimpse of light rising from all the pillars he had been unable to reach. The flowers were blooming of their own volition, and from the turtle''s very angry stare he was able to deduce where those flares would soon be heading.


    "Uuuh, pretty," Poppy chirped, pirouetting gracefully at his side, as it looked back at the oncoming missiles.


    "Not pretty," Dirt exclaimed, "Bad, very bad!"


    The first flare hit moments later, almost taking his head off. It grazed by his shoulder and hit the ground with a devastating explosion. Debris from the attack was thrown up into the air, hitting Dirt like the spread of a shotgun. Luckily, his current form had a lot of resistance to this kind of damange.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Adopting a zig-zag run, Dirt survived the next few blasts without incident. His luck ran out, though. With a devastating crash, a flare hit him in the leg, blowing it off and sending him flying helplessly through the air.


    Although it was unlucky, there was a silver lining. He was almost at the edge, and this blast threw him the last distance. He hit the ground, rolling the last few feet to get over the edge, when another blast hit the ground right beside him, taking out his left arm. He was finally flung over the edge, falling down towards the line of separation between the turtle and the land of fire.


    Keeping the idea firm in his mind that the fall could not harm him, Dirt hit the ground below without making a single effort to displace the kinetic energy. He was so close.


    Lying on his stomach, he turned over his back to face another two flares coming straight at him. Cursing, he used the intact limbs that remained to get out of the way, awkwardly rolling closer to the land of fire. The explosions were merciless, though. He was not fast enough to escape them, and their blasts threw him up into the air, finally delivering him across the invisible line.


    It only cost him his other arm.


    Meanwhile, Poppy just gently navigated through the artillery with ease. Dirt finally rolled to a stop on the hot ground across the border, looking back at the turtle. It still looked mad, but at least the flares had stopped coming. Seeing he was across the border, the turtle gave one last, angry roar, before settling back down beginning with its hindlegs. The process of lying back down took just as long as getting up, if not longer, but when it was over the plain was once more completely flat - as if nothing had happened.


    The only evidence of the violent devastation were the marks left behind from the flares, as well as the deep cracks showing the outline of the turtle''s shell.


    Sighing with relief, Dirt navigated his two stumped arms and leg to get himself into a seated position. "That was too dangerous," he breathed, trying to regain control of himself after the sudden escape.


    "I think it was fun," said Poppy, chirping away, "Can we do it again?"


    "No, we absolutely can''t! I am not going back there, not ever."


    "Booring," sang the bird, circling above his head, "What now, then?"


    Dirt looked at his stumped form; clearly this was going to be difficult. "Well, I''m made of rock, and there is a lot of rock around here. Maybe I can borrow some to get a leg back, at the very least."


    Though the idea made somewhat sense, having no arms was too much of a handicap. He tried angling himself to some the loose rocks lying around, but even with a concerted effort of will there was no effect on them. Giving up on that, there was only one option left.


    "Poppy, how far to the nearest lava pit?"


    The bird circled up into the air for a bit, tracing concentric circles before finally returning. "Not far," said Poppy, pointing with its beak further inland, "I think you can roll over there in about an hour."


    Strengthening his resolve, Dirt prepared himself for rolling about like a barrel for the next while. "Alright, let''s go there."

 Take me to a Road of Fire

    Adopting the new method of travelling was a hassle. Rolling was only effective as long as the ground was somewhat level, but this fire landscape was anything but. Sharp hillsides and sudden drops were all over the place, left over from where the molten rock had spewed out from the underground, leaving behind tunnels of solidified magma as is cumbersomely travelled towards the fire land''s center. The whole area had a slight tilt to it, leaving all the lava to flow towards a central pool.


    It was a mesmerizing sight, and a difficult one to travel even at the best of times. As it were, Dirt was not even close to being in a good condition. With his stumps he could manage an awkward, four-legged crawl, where his one intact leg was the only real propulsion method he had.


    Of course, Poppy made no effort to help. The colorful bird just circled above the crawling figure, like a vulture waiting for him to finally succumb to exhaustion, all the while chatting and chirping tirelessly.


    "You''re really too slow. Uhh, look, there''s an eruption... and another one! Chirp! What are you doing? Why are you just lying down, we''re almost there, see?"


    Dirt had collapsed upon the ground, taking a break. There was no sense to him being tired in this form, and yet he was completely spent. All the energy he had received from the pillars on the plains was spent, and he was back to being sluggish and slow. He had no way to get any of it back, and he was so... endlessly tired...


    "I think I''m going to fall asleep," he said, yawning even without having a mouth.


    "No, that''s stupid. And boring. Don''t sleep when there''s more to see - chirp!"


    Pushing off with his one good leg, Dirt appeased his demanding guide, slowly making it to the edge of the lava pit. He first noticed the heat, which quickly grew suffocating. With his lingering, biological perceptions, he felt as if his the air should be burning his lungs and scorching his skin. In reality, all he felt was a mild irritation, but he was too used to think like an animal.


    Pushing himself over the edge of the pit, he looked down upon the heated rock within. With the stump of his arm, he reached down al slightly touched the surface of the material, dipping the broken limb into the liquid, and then concentrated his will. He was a novice at this, but his experiences told him this should be possible. Practically anything was possible here, so why not this?


    He imagined his hand as he remembered it, as he knew it had been even when he had been human. A forearm attached to a hand with five fingers. Drawing back his arm, his efforts were rewarded when the molten rock stuck on, taking on the shape of an arm. A hand soon followed, dripping with the dangerously hot material. Flexing, he found he could even control the matter, since it was already a part of him.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Having a liquid hand, however, was not really practical. Focusing his will even further he imagined the material harden, forming his new, solid arm. Conforming to his will, he was soon in possession of an arm made from lava rock - clearly distinct from the rest from original body parts.


    He followed this success up with his other hand, then finally his broken leg. Being complete once more, he stood up on his feet and scouted the surroundings.


    "Congratulations," said Poppy, as it halted its lazy flight and landed on his shoulders, "Now you can go offend the inhabitants of this landscape."


    "No thank you, I''d rather not," said Dirt, waving the suggestion away. He had had enough offending with the turtle alone, "Have you seen anyone?"


    "Nope, haven''t seen nothing - chirp!"


    There were no landmarks here that stood out - like the pillars had. Everything here was simply, uniformly rocky and hot. Looking over towards the castle, Dirt wondered if he should go back to his initial notion and travel there.


    Something tugged at him. He looked down on his new hands, and found they were slightly pulling him towards the center of the lava landscape. Turning away from the caste, he looked towards the center, where a massive lake of molten rock lay situated, fed by a multitude of streams coming form every direction. Maybe there was something there worth checking out. Maybe something like the pillars.


    Maybe something like the turtle.


    He shivered unconsciously. Still, he had survived the turtle; surely he could survive whatever was hidden in the center of the lake. With that shallow reasoning, Dirt started his trek inland.


    "So, you really are going to go offend the next one! Good - chirp! I want to see what hides there!"


    "I am not going to offend anyone. I am just going to check it out and see what''s there," he said, trying to defend his actions, but the silly bird just chirped and flew a little forward.


    Holding fast in his own conviction, Dirt assured himself he was just going to look, nothing more. He was curious; Poppy was having a bad influence on him.


    Trekking through the landscape now was much more enjoyable. With his new limbs he felt invigorated, much like his first contact with the pillars. It helped that these gave him the ability to actually traverse the land of fire, rather than rolling helplessly along.


    Crossing minor streams in skips, scaling hillsides only to slide down on the other side, all the while following the slight downwards tilt soon led him all the way to the majestic central pool of molten rock. Standing at the lakeside, the sight was even more impressive than from afar - and the heat was positively oppressive.


    Here, bubbles of gas constantly made the lake burp and bubble, filling the air with toxins and pollution. Had Dirt required air to breathe, he would never even had gotten close. Carefully, ever so carefully, he crouched down and out a single finger into the lake. It felt just like the lava pit from which he had re-acquired his limbs; maybe he was just imagining things.


    "Uh oh," said Poppy, leaping away from his shoulder and into the air. How the bird managed to survive this place was absolutely beyond him.


    "What?" He asked, looking in the direction Poppy was pointing with its beak. Sure enough, from the very center of the lake of fire, something was slowly rising.