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Chapter 5 - Peak Entertainment

“Pfft, you can’t even see anything,” Goreblaster grumbled, staring into the glowing Recorder Orb. The fuzzy outline of a blue shape danced about in an otherwise low-fidelity landscape of muted greys and lackluster hints of action.

The barbarian tried again to wipe the sticky ichor-like blood off of his sword, instead just spreading the foul substance across more of his furred attire. He clenched his chiselled jaw and waved a hand at his portly assistant in frustration.

“Can’t you just do a good deed for once without the need for glory?” Percy coyly rolled his features into a smug grin - for he knew that Goreblaster could not. Much like the Dream Eater’s blood that clung to his loin-belt, the barbarian was stuck to seeking his fame and fortune.

“Didn’t even have any treasure,” the additional sulk was perhaps not befitting a man of his stature (reasonably tall) and musculature (overtly excessive) - but deemed valid in the otherwise pitiful situation as they began to leave the cave.

“What did you expect to find, sacks full of dreams to be plundered?”

The assistant slash manager was being pretty sassy this morning, Goreblaster thought, as he sheathed his blade awkwardly like a jam-covered knife being put away in a very specifically designed knife holder that wasn’t intended to be used when said knife was covered with something. Usually, the rotund man was on the side of building their public image - it was what lead to the gold and briefly lavish lifestyle they were used to.

Upon exiting the cave into the light of the day, the supposed nearby residents were saved from an evil monster (even if they’d never know about it); it was time to make haste over the mountain to pursue their true quarry. Bathed in the sunlight stood Fernando, impatiently waiting for them to climb aboard and get back on schedule. Goreblaster thought he should have his turn atop their transportation as he had just facilitated all the hard work, but rules were rules, and he watched the stout Percy hop aboard with green in his eyes.

If there was one positive thing he could say, as they began ascending the pathway through the Skullcrush mountains, it was that the view was impressive. Plains stretched out for miles, like a giant lawn where all the grass had died out and you were only left with cracked earth, and the ants made little sporadic villages rather than find somewhere more capable of sustaining a fruitful existence. A mix of browns, umber, and reds covered every direction until the horizon, where it met the light blue sky - cloudless.

Stolen novel; please report.

It was not the most beautiful view Goreblaster had bore witness to, but the scale of it was humbling - which was a difficult emotion for him. Much like the thought of things greater than he was hard to swallow. He had beaten the definition of greater that meant bigger than, and beaten the definition that mean more than, but the definition that mean more proficient or competent than… he had hoped his literacy wouldn’t have had to extend much further than his sword tip.

As they made headway up the mountainway, he couldn’t help but wonder if Fern had perhaps been a goat in a previous life. Not for the weird eyes and cackling screeches that haunted his lack of dreams, but the ability of the pack mule to ascend the steep outcroppings and jutted rock crags of the blasted mountain that even he had some difficulty traversing. It reminded him of the time when he had to disguise himself as a dentist to get close to the three-headed giant of the Red Skypit. This time though, the only tongue lashings were from the sass of the beast-bound helper.

“Perhaps you’ve peaked,” Percy chided, revelling in the smooth edges of the hilltop-based pun, “Is killing the worst of the world no longer enough for you? Ol’ Gore’ just wants some validation and a pat on the back?”

“Unfair!” Goreblaster snorted, as he shook the sweat from his immensely masculine torso like a dog that had just escaped a (modestly) wet river. “You are being especially salty today, Percy. Far be it for me to turn this ham-fisted hack-and-slash adventure into something with emotional weight, but are you okay?”

“It’s the altitude - I apologise.” Percy shook his head as though his bad mood would fall out of his tiny button ears. “Something about being up this high from sea level makes me irritable, idiot.”

Goreblaster shrugged, clambering up the warm boulders that offered purchase to the pinnacle of the Skullcrush range. The sooner they could get over and down the other side, the sooner he could feel like he was the one in charge of the pair. He briefly wondered where Thunderguts had lived in this area; there had been no sign of a giant nest or some kind of cave. Best not think about it too hard, he decided, try not to humanise the monsters - or rationalise their existence.

Finally, the peak was reached, and in taking a moment to observe the indescribable beauty of the surrounding lands, they began descending on the other side. Shaded by the mountain range from the scorching sun, it was thankfully a little cooler - although this would be short-lived as the sun would be soon clambering over the rocks behind them to see what they were up to.

“Have a look over there, if you don’t need thanking for the effort,” Percy snapped, following up the snark with a half-apologetic arrangement of his squat facial features.

Goreblaster did. He looked, I mean, not thank required thanking for it. Although, a bit of a pick-me-up would have gone amiss. Below them in a valley of murky brown lay a large swathe of peat and muddy vegetation. A stark contrast to the desert conditions they had just traversed through, as though the land was put together by someone not familiar with continuity.

“The bog,” he stated, half expecting a sharp-tongued barb from his companion, like some kind of anxious pufferfish.

Percy just stared out towards the smudge of anticipated adventure, a frown etched onto his face above his spectacles (below would just be odd).

Fernando, however, rolled his ungoat-like eyes.