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

“DREAM EATER!” identified Doctor Mallow.

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

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?”

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

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

“SAVING... SAVED.”

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

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 23”

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

“LOADING... LOADED.”

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

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 23”

“FRET, DEMON!” cried the doctor.

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

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

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The dwarf fell asleep...

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

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

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

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

“I won’t ask how you are feeling, dwarf, for I am certain it is unwell. It surprises me you live, but your unique stature is molded for taking blows, is what is clear to me. You do fascinate me really, stout one. Elf, fishfolk, humans, yes, I’ve met them all. But you...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dwarf considered the decaying sight of The Ponderous.

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

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

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

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

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY SKILL INCREASED TO 24”