From the hotel of glass emerged the dwarf fresh from bath in brand new attire, ocean blue gi blow beard. Tied around his waist, his yellow obi soaked in sunlight, and the dwarf’s barefoot days were stomped away one geta at a time. The clacking muffled under the helixes of vines throughout dirt and softened in the short grass. Though the dwarf had worn sandals on occasion as a farm boy, he’d never slipped on nor seen such strange sugarcane colored shoewear. WIth two teeth keeping his cartoonish toes elevated, the dwarf at first struggled to adjust to a balancing act. But by the arriving at what was once an audacious restaurant, the dwarf felt learned. His furry eyebrows raised at the ongoing dismantling of the restaurant, Doetrieve attending alongside his working elfs. Approaching the newly made captain, the dwarf was welcomed heartily. Doetrieve rested his tools and, when asked of the reason behind the destruction, answered.

“Got to thinking, no, we can’t keep them eight legs the way we have been, no sir. But there’s a finite space we got to play with inside the walls. It was either this or some houses. But right, we’re gonna put in some barns and pens here. Maybe charge to pet, as a tourist attraction. I’m the captain now, dwarf, have you heard? Lord Moth placed me in charge in the coming interim, for only treekind can decide in the end. Until that comes to pass, if I want this settlement to be spider city, reckon it’s my call. How you liking them threads? Artisan made--some fine quality material you got on. ‘Course it ain’t no yukata. You give a shout to his lordship yet? That so. Well shoot, I’m humbled to be first. If you’re wantin’ Corporals Deertre an’ Smucker, they’re recoverin’ in the ward. Their necks got it worse’n I did--can you tell? Anywho, Lord Moth’s down in the chamber. Figurin’ out what we’re s’posed to do next, or maybe meditatin’. That’s fer you to figure out; my place is here. Well, dwarf, git.”

The yet visited medical ward, which was accessed by the very same annex connected to the emerald chambers, prison, and captain’s quarters, smelled sterile. The dwarf balked but pressed on for the sake of those who made his life easier at great risk. The dwarf expressed these sentiments to those in hospital dress atop clean sheets, and Smucker smiled.

“I couldn’t believe I nearly lost my life alongside the lieu... captain,” Smucker corrected. “Not too happy helping you got us landed, but all the same to serve the cause. I would’ve done it again.”

“Well I wouldn’t!” cried Deertre. “Fact, I ne’er did nuttin’, I ain’t get no trial. That bastard Locust can rot in ‘ell. Which iz real, mind you,” he warned the dwarf. “We ain’t that far from it.”

“Just be happy yer ‘live you twit.”

“That I am. Happy, I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What.”

“Those robes don’t look too bad on someone so short,” complimented Smucker.

“‘E looks like a li’l me.”

“Not nearly stupid enough.”

“Cappan Doetrieve can’t be ‘at good if ‘e works me next to this elf again.”

“Don’t talk such rubbish. Of course ‘e will.”

Reinvigorated by the improving health and camaraderie of the corporals, the dwarf began approaching the mountain after. The sun especially warm on his skin, the dwarf felt his eyelids droop as he walked off trail, coming to a stop, merely listening to the fusion of elf and nature around him. The market: busy; deconstruction: resounding. He could not say of how long he stood--only that the pressure of a great weight seemed to dampen. The dwarf came up to the rock face known so well and flashed his hands summoning its slide. The glass cages the dwarf passed were empty. The dwarf remarked on how different the settlement’s atmosphere appeared, that, though elfs did chance glances at his lower stature and sprouting beard, he felt welcome again. He thought an old thought, one made in blissful ignorance that coexistence were possible. And now it seemed true. But what of his flock? What of the unrepaired steeple and The Curious One? As the dwarf questioned these quandaries, he stepped into the ruins of The Ponderous’ chamber. In royal yukata among rubble and freed earth knelt Lord Moth, only rising when the dwarf clacked beside.

“Seeing you in this wear is less humorous than I feared,” the elder elf lamented. “You and The Ponderous appear to share history. And all heard His declaration to travel north in search of The Curious. I will do right by His word and reward you a small sum for your efforts. It will be just enough to afford a ticket, I’m sure, to something, perhaps not the most pleasant of ships, but it is what can be allot. Are you grateful to receive it?”

The dwarf nodded, beard bouncing.

“I knew you no dwarf. ‘O son of man’...”

Lord Moth’s robes of royal colors shone brilliantly between shafts of natural light and the cold darkness of The Ponderous’ grave. Runes, in fact, had been stripped from the room--the chamber of chiseled stone and fine wood, great hole in its mountain ceiling, struck the dwarf in a way not anticipated. It had greatly weighed on him the finality of ‘SAVING’ The Ponderous into his tomb, one of moat once infiltrated long ago. Indeed how long it seemed he and his pigsects infiltrated the chamber unaware of whose waters were waded. How obvious it seemed to him now both animate bark in his life were one and the same. But the revelation carried great power and sway over the dwarf, and he clenched his teeth bitterly at the regret expressed between dying breaths. The lord tilted his head curiously.

“It strikes me greatly His passing has such an effect on a round ear. In truth, I was not sure whether to cut you down the moment you produced that vial. But we all heard Him; their words are always law. Regardless, you no doubt have killed The Ponderous, and were any other lord in attendance they would have you looped through a vine in days. But there is another interpretation. He was not alive when we came to him. What Perry,” and the dwarf glanced up to find his expectation above missing, “What he conspirated to do against one so holy... But his fate was decided. And Mason Doetrieve will make a fine Captain in his place--for now. So, ‘son of man’,” began Lord Moth with upturned chin, “will you go? Will you seek out The Curious? Will you stay? Will you return from whence you came?”

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The dwarf, seated on rubble, hands on knees, beard low, offered no response.

“It matters little to me. Spend the reward however you like. Perhaps you’ve a teleport near the bay. How couldn’t you? But I fulfill our obligation either way and may now leave this sad settlement. My daughter, on the other hand--forgive her particularly rude absence--chooses to remain, and in Nasteze of all slums. I cannot control the woman. So for the time you are to remain, will you be my round ear? Rat her to Doetrieve if you suspect anything truly foul. Well.”

The lord began to step away but hesitated some feet in, turning.

“You look ridiculous in our clothing.”

So exited Lord Moth. The dwarf was alone. Contemplating both the immense pressure of the chamber’s deceased and the lord’s cruel parting, he remained atop a chunk of mountain for some time before falling to his feet. The dwarf, weaving past rubble, faced the lifeless tree before him. Its bark lost all color, The Ponderous appearing a gray, withered, pitiable thing. But there was no one to pity, the dwarf ascertained: no light shone behind its dead drooping eyes. No room shaking words spoke, and the dwarf’s fists squeezed. He hated who was before him. And he felt sorrow. The dwarf could not come to terms with such conflicting modes of thought, and he dropped to his knees and hung his beard.

No doubt the dwarf would have vacated the mausoleum not much later had he not caught the strangest glimmer of light from none other than the open maw of The Ponderous. And he convinced himself to ignore what was likely little else than a trick of the frazzled, weary mind until he caught another. The dwarf’s heart began beating irregularly and he snapped to attention from behind in anticipation of Lord Moth’s continued presence--but he was not there. The dwarf wormed his way to the tunnel leading out and, spotting none in sight, he returned to The Ponderous and hesitated in frustrating silence. Patience gone in the dozen minutes that followed, the dwarf resolved to leave. The light shone again, and the dwarf soon placed a careless clack within The Ponderous, accepted the response on the other side, and climbed in. A strange aroma not present from the chamber permeated the dark wooden interior, and what little the dwarf could make out by way of outside light was but rings. A flash from above bathed the entire hollowed Ponderous in fast fleeing light, and the dwarf was convinced to climb.

“ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 42”

Some grasping of bark required pressing his thick limbs up against the inner lining of the tree tight as possible, shifting side to side, until the dwarf could be freed for his next climb; such were the thick branched conditions. Ledges as found supported his geta. All was wood, and the occasional luminescence did not identify anything else as anything but. Further, it revealed that up was quite a ways. At some stage in the ascent the dwarf glanced down, waiting for the next glimmer to light, and realized the height attained was impossible--the dwarf could not have gone so high in a tree not whatsoever the same length. But still up beckoned. The dwarf continued.

“ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 43”

With great, final effort, the dwarf hoisted himself over a hole’s lip and up onto crackling leaves. Despite the alarming sound, his weight carried with no issue, and he stood in time to witness beaming rays burst from even higher from a source obfuscated in foliage. He thought to throw himself against the briefly lit walls of leaf and twig, thought better, and lay down. Incredibly comfortable, the dwarf could not conceive rising. All limbs but the mind at rest, he set the latter aflutter with notions of what the dwarf was even engaged in. Had the dwarf desecrated The Ponderous? He recalled, as a young boy, crawling into similar hollowed situations, encountering wildlife and stashes not always made by the former. If The Ponderous had caught the boy at that age, would offense have been taken, and would he have become a dwarf then? What the dwarf engaged in felt worse than his actual damning offense and, picturing a kind Lord Moth agreeably nodding at the dwarf’s confession, he could not complete the scene without the lord drawing his sword. He thought of the lord’s daughter--why stay, and why Nasteze? With all the whispering between daughter and father and the way she conducted herself, the dwarf wondered at her involvement with elf politics. The concept of such alone cooked the dwarf’s mind, and he sweat. A chill made him freeze, and he burst up from the leaves and assailed the wall with a fervor seen by hole and ravine.

“ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 44”

As high as the dwarf could attain a reasonable hold, for the wall began to slope into the ceiling--all still sprouted branches--he began to realize there was no reasonable exit for the sugarcane beneath his soles. Indeed platforms of shrubbery rose out from the floor with various heights attained, but the dwarf’s closest would require more than letting go. The risk had grown ridiculous, thought the yet ‘SAVED’ dwarf, but further bolts of light blasting shadows onto shadows guided his will as if Waspig. He lowered his position and, further dribblings of sweat dropping, patiently waited for the next flash. His heart had rest when the dwarf did--now it seemed ready to burst. The dwarf grit his teeth and decided on what drove him further and, confident in his belief, shoved off from the handful of growth and onto more successfully. Several seconds passed before the dwarf could bring himself to reposition and, in doing so, he slammed his fist against the shrub, his floor. He hated The Ponderous One. He respected The Ponderous, and he would go to The Curious if not but to follow a thread possibly linking back to the farm unwillingly torn from. But this respect mattered little in the face of what The Ponderous had done in its youth, bitterly argued the dwarf. He had been damned to this world by its hands and regret did not ‘LOAD’. He would do more than accept the reward--the dwarf would act obscenely to the ever scolding father in his head. If not bolted to the branches, the dwarf would take this shining beacon a mere skill increase away.

“ATHLETICS SKILL INCREASED TO 45”

Mounting the final platform of bundled nature, the dwarf stepped into and tumbled around a wood woven basket suspended in the air of the corpse of The Ponderous. For a moment he could not believe he had not fallen to an embarrassing death, one that would require a redoing of many tasks and performances. Then light forced his eyes shut, and he looked up and could see nothing. Betting on the integrity of the basket, the dwarf lay for long enough to nap even despite the infrequent strobe and, on waking, felt as if he were atop the church steeple. Nearly tipping over from an abyss into another, the dwarf caught himself, recalled his situation, and keep his eyes shielded from the next blinding. This required the same patience as the corpse demanded elsewhere, and the dwarf could think of nothing but the object. When the light again passed, the dwarf chanced his adjusted sight and looked up to find a multiple pronged ball no larger than his two thumbs attached to an extremely spindly branch. In darkness he leapt and could not read it. But intricate webbing of wood and leaf ahead encouraged climbing. The dwarf mounted it and, upon the next flash through pressed fingers, leapt.

Sagging, the thin drooping branch snapped back into the air following the plucking of its contents: the dwarf held the pronged ball. Its arms retracted suddenly, and a dim glow emanated--far more agreeable than the unexpected flashes. He pocketed the pearl sized piece into his cowskin pouch and climbed over the edge of the suspended platform, jumping down to the nearest one lower. It was a humorously short drop from there.

“BASE JUMPING SKILL INCREASED TO 5”