The small patch of swamp was eerily silent. Every living thing within those two small ponds sat motionless, watching as a spectral figure paced rapidly back and forth across the top of the water. Thick soled boots stomped soundlessly, buckles flashing in the dim afternoon light, as the denim and leather clad woman stalked her territory with a grim look of concentration. Random symbols, scribbled notes, and half formed thoughts flowed from her lips drifting upward and behind her in a trail like embers cast off by her crimson mohawk.
“RIGHT!” Liv barked suddenly, smacking her fist into her palm. The tiny ribbons and fragments of light snuffed out instantly. Whipping around, she took a strong stance. “Form up!” she ordered. “Staff meeting!”
The various creatures of the pool all scrambled in a chaotic maelstrom. The amphibian’s clambered onto the hulking Masque’s back. A small school of fish circled attentively at her feet. Even the mosquitoes all perched quietly to listen. Bushwhacker surveyed all of this and then snapped a little salute to signal readiness.
“Okay critter crew! First of all, you’ve all been doing a great job. We have been making great progress. More importantly, we’ve learned a lot.” Her gaze stayed steady and forward facing but her hand snapped out and pointed ominously.
“Orange Hector, don’t think I don’t see you!” the fiery punk snapped. The small orange salamander stood frozen, having been caught in the middle of trying to sneak off. To his credit, the brightly colored amphibian at least had the grace to look sheepish. Liv carried on with a more serious tone than was her norm.
“We’ve been gathering information, which is great. But so far we’ve mostly been reacting, not preparing,” the ethereal projection of the dungeon’s core explained to the entire uncomprehending crowd. “If we’re going to pull this off, we need to be proactive. We need a plan!”
Her statement was punctuated by the croak of a lone frog atop Masques rump. Gods, what she would give for a PERSON she could talk to…
“Manual expansion and modification is prohibitively expensive. The best sources of SP seem to be people. So it stands to reason that we need to get more people to come out this way, and then we need a way to get what we need out of them. So far, it seems like we tend to get SP from blood. That might be correlation and not causation, but it’s the best I’ve got right now. So we need to get people into our territory, and then find a way to get a little blood.” Masque snapped his massive jaws with a loud clap in response.
“Now now! If we start killing people or chomping limbs, nobody is going to want to wander around out here. You’re our rear guard, not our front line.” she admonished. “No, we need something more like the skeeters. Annoying, but not life threatening. Wile!” she called out, causing the yellow striped salamander to perk up, pushing up with his arms to sit at attention.
“You’re plan A. You’re the fastest, and least likely to get hurt. I need you to go out into the fog and find me leeches.” Wile sat there, eyes slightly askew, clearly having no clue what to do with those instructions. “Right. Simple...”
The fiery projection tapped her foot, looking skyward for a moment before she tried again. Doing her best to remember what a leech even looked like, she doodled one into the air.
“Go find this. Bring it back home.”
That seemed to do the trick because Wile jumped down and made a mad waddling dash out into the fog. Liv hoped that wasn’t a horrible mistake…
That left plan B.
She’d played around a bit with her ability to somewhat mold the life in her pools. Now it was time to try a new experiment. Walking over to a patch of tall grass on the eastern rim between the pools, she knelt down and tried to focus on the plants there. She had a vague memory of a story her mother used to tell her. Something called ‘razor grass’. Her mom had described it as stiff bladed grass with serrations in the edges. Not enough to really hurt anyone, but could definitely cut up bare skin.
Concentrating on the grass, she tried to pour the slowest trickle of SP she could manage. She pushed and prodded, causing the grass to grow up, then out, then root more deeply, getting a feel for the plant. The problem was that she didn’t ACTUALLY know what razor grass really looked like. How could she know what to push? It was only when Bushwhacker came over to investigate that she glanced in their direction, and paused. There, in the tiny shrub’s torso, was what she needed. Long, slender, flexible enough but also stiff… Carefully observing the little creature, she began to mimic the things she saw woven into the threads of its pattern tracing them onto her new target. She felt a sudden drain and the grass shot upwards, thickening into tall, sturdy blades. With a victorious grin, she looked to the serrated bone plate that served as teeth in the smaller salamanders. She could work with this…
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
—
The ground squelched loudly underfoot, punctuating the chirps of insects, the singing of frogs, and their own labored breathing. If their parents had ever found out they’d gone this far out, boxed ears would have been the least of their worries. Not that that was a risk anymore…
No, what mattered now was catching that rabbit!!
Dagny trundled as fast as their stocky little legs would carry them, dragged down by their over-large trousers and hole riddled boots. Slowing to a stop, they looked around for a sign of their quarry.
“Here bunny bunny…” they said nervously. They scratched at their cheek, made itchy by the first signs of patchy, youthful stubble. A wet gurgling snarl nearly saw them jumping out of their own skin, jolting upright and whirling around to find the hidden predator. Then came another growl and Dagny realized it was their own stomach.
“Baldr’s Balls…” They huffed, wiping at their face. They grinned then, filled with the rebellious glee of the young getting away with saying a naughty word. Then came a rustling from a nearby patch of greenery. Dagny lifted their slingshot, but the hazel blur of fluff exploded from beneath the thicket and was already flying like an arrow towards a patch of tall grass.
“OH NO YOU DON’T!!” Dagny ordered impotently, slogging through the mud, huffing loudly in pursuit. Throwing themselves into the strands as tall as they were, the sodden and bedraggled pursuer was quickly filled with regret. The blades of this plant snagged at their clothes, catching on their burlap trousers and cutting right through their patched up linen tunic. Hissing and flailing, the stocky little ruffian pushed through the grass with the whispy sound of thick thighs overlapping the plodding of mis-sized boots.
The light was waxing as the foul grass thinned, the edge of the cursed tangle beckoning. Dagny surged, spurred on by desperate hope, only to feel the world around them tilt unexpectedly when something hardier than grass roots snagged their ankle. Their cry of shock swiftly became a muffled burble as they landed face down into a thick muck. There was a brief panic as the suction of the mud tried to keep them from reuniting with the air, but a moment later they popped free and gasped with relief.
Wiping black ooze from their eyes, Dagny cast about in search of their quarry. Luck, it seemed, was on their side. There, just a few scant cubits beyond their reach, was the rabbit. The beast was struggling in the clinging muck just as much as Dagny was, but lacked the sense to figure out a way to escape its grasp. Forgetting the dangers of being overheard, Dagny squinted against the onslaught of mosquitoes and fought with all they had to surge forward, hand grasping.
Dagny’s thick, squared fingers caught the beast by the nape, and the youth cried out in victorious elation.
“GOT YA’ YOU SLIPPERY… LITTLE…” Dagny’s words trailed off as a shadow fell upon both hunter and prey. Hazel eyes went wide with worry beneath bushy arches of auburn, which peaked ever higher with each inch of upward tilt required to properly survey the newcomer.
“AAAAAH!!!” Dagny shrieked in the entirely undignified squeal of a frightened child as they came face to face with the biggest, fattest, angriest looking bird they’d ever seen. Somehow keeping an iron grip on the rabbit, they scrambled back through the muck and brambles, howling at the top of their lungs.
“BOGTRODDER!!!!”
—
Liv cheered whilst her newest critter preened, clearly chuffed to bits over its performance. Liv had been expecting the Halfling to return, and had been rather shocked to see someone else entirely. He looked like a kid, all dumpy and round, except for the bristly, patchy looking stubble on his chin. She wondered if he could be a young dwarf, but honestly that was hardly her primary focus at the moment. Her plan had worked!! Flawlessly!
The tall strands of razor grass had indeed netted her quite a bit of SP. As did her skeeters! She was practically vibrating with energy after the brief encounter. She clapped, grinning widely at the back of the retreating shape as he fled from the bird. She felt a little bad for the poor scamp, but consoled herself that he’d at least gotten something out of it. It had taken a little SP to make the muck loose enough to snare the swift-footed animal, but she’d gotten so much energy from the pair of them that she could afford to be kind to the hungry looking kid.
“Time for you to return the favor,” she said with a smirk. “Go forth! And tell all your little friends about that big ol’ bird you saw!” The crane-like creature tilted its head at that, sensing that it was the focus of the dungeon’s attention.
“Yeah, that’s you. Big ol’ Bird,” Liv snickered then. Lifting her finger she began to trace a name plaque over the massive bird’s head. The Halfling had called the things something else but she kind of liked the kid’s name better, so she threw that in too.
[Bob] [LvL 1]
{The Bogtrodder}
Bob trumpeted, fluffing its feathers as it stared up appreciatively at the new name. How does one know it was an appreciative look? Because this was HER soggy little cesspool and if she wanted to anthropomorphize her only companions who was going to stop her?
The pond bubbled then, rippling as Masque’s huge eyes parted the surface and looked around.
“You’re good! He’s gone,” Liv assured her most powerful monster.
It had taken a couple days, but Masque had managed to dig a burrow in the muddy bottom of the second pool, allowing him to hide and avoid scarring off valuable resources. As he slithered free of his den, Liv could just barely see the dim red light of her core reflecting off of his belly. It wasn’t exactly Fort Knox but it was a lot safer than it had been before. Hidden, ten feet under water, and guarded by her biggest and baddest buddy; it was the best she could do at the moment. To Liv it felt like the first real step in taking her new existence seriously. She was out of the tutorial stage now, time to get down to business.