~o0o~

Eight years earlier. . .

"Why am I sprawled on the ground? I am covered in dirt. On my back. Why am I on my back? How did I get here?"

Quaraun lay on his back, staring skyward into the darkness. At the ceiling.

Maybe? Is there a ceiling overhead?

"I can't see. It is so exceptionally dark. I need to sit up. The ground below me is hard and rock like. It hurts. It hurts so bad."

Stiff.

Uncomfortable.

Painful to lay on.

"Why am I laying on it? It hurts. I hurt. I ache all over. Where am I? Why am I on the ground? Gravel and pebbles are scraping my skin through my clothes. I hate it. It hurts. Abrasive sand is tumbling around my toes, inside my shoes. It hurts my feet. It hurts my toes. I have sand between my toes. I hate it."

When Quaraun couldn't remember what he was doing, he took t pontificating to rumble through random words, hoping one of them would spark a memory of what he was doing.

Failing memory was the worst part of growing old. Quaraun's failing memory often left him waking up confused, not remembering where he was or how he had gotten there. This was the case today. Quaraun preferred someone to sleep with him, so they could remind him, when he woke up, where he was and what he was doing there. He hated sleeping alone, because he hated waking up and not being able to remember where he had bedded that night.

Quaraun tried to remember what he had been doing the day before. Walking, but where? He walked so much, so far, so often, that little difference passed from one day to the next. He had been going somewhere, but where? Why was he sleeping on the ground? Why not in his tent? Or on a bedroll? And why was it so damned dark? And what was he sleeping on?

Dirt.

A road?

"Am I sitting in the middle of the road? Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?"

Quaraun strained his eyes trying to see, but it was nothing but pitch black, thick blackness all around. Not a sliver of light anywhere. Nothing to cast shadows. Nothing but total blackness.

"Why am I sitting in the middle of the road?" Quaraun asked himself again. "How did I get in the middle of the road? What happened? Where am I? What has transpired? I don't remember. Why don't I remember? Why am I outside? Why is it so dark? Is it night? I can't see anything. Have I gone blind? No. I've lost my sight before. Briefly. After being struck on the head. It wasn't like this. It wasn't black. It was grey. Foggy. With bursts of colour exploding inside my skull."

Quaraun put his hands on his head and discovered this was a difficult task when one could not see where one's head was.

"No. This is just darkness. But there are no stars. No moon. Where is my moon? Have I fallen into a hole in the ground? Am I underground?" Quaraun reached around blindly until he felt a sod wall, and long tree roots. "Oh! I AM underground! How did I get underground? Have I been buried alive? Who would bury me alive? Entombed beneath the earth."

Quaraun crawled around feeling the ground as he went, trying to feel something he could recognize.

"I can feel dirt and rocks and dirt and soil and dirt and sediment and dust and dirt. And dirt is everywhere. There is so much dirt. I'm dirty. Where is the edge of the trail? Dust is everywhere. And dirt. It's dirt everywhere. Dirt and dirt and more dirt. I can't find any anything. Is there anything here? Anything at all. No. I can find nothing. It's just dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt and dirt and dirt and more dirt! So much dirt. Why is there so much dirt! I hate dirt. Why does nature have to be so dirty. Why can't it be clean like water?"

Quaraun grew increasingly more panicked the more he found nothing but dirt.

"Where is the grass? I can't see. I have dirt all over my hands. Why can't I find any grass? I need water or grass. Something to clean my hands! I can't fucking see anything! Why is it so dark? There is no grass. I can't feel any grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need grass. I have dirt all over my hands. Why is it so messy? Where is the grass? My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. I need some grass for wipe this mud off my hands."

"I can feel the dirt, rocks, and dirt, dirt, debris, dust and dirt. And everywhere there is just more dirt. Gravel and dirt and dust. There is a lot of dust. I'm dirty. My hands are dirty. I can feel dirt on my hands. It's drying out my skin! My clothes are dirty. My shoes are dirty. I have dirt in my nose!"

Where is the end of the road? Dust is everywhere. It's dirty, it's dirty, it's dirty. Is there something here? No. Nothing. I can't find anything. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty, not dirty.

Why is everything so messy? Where is the grass? I can't see. My hands are covered in mud. I need to clean my hands. Why can't I find any weeds? Why is it so dark and there is no grass? I don't feel the grass. Where is the grass? Why is there no grass? I need hashish. My hands are in the mud, not in the grass. I didn't feel the plants at all. Nothing. No plants. I don't feel the grass. I don't feel flowers. I can't feel the trees. Dirty and dirty. And gravel.

It's not just grass. I can't feel any plants at all. Nothing. There are no plants. I can't feel any grass. I can't feel any flowers. I can't feel any trees. It's just dirt and more dirt. And gravel. And I broke a nail. I hate dirt so damned much. Why does there have to be so much damned dirt?

No shrubs grow here. I can't feel any grass.

No ferns. No hedges. No plants. No plants at all.

No foliage. No hedges. No shrubberies. No thickets.

No briers. No bushes. No grains.

Why? Where the hell am I?

There are no forests here. I don't feel any grass or bushes. No fence. No plants. No leaves. There is no fence. There are no bushes. No thistle. There are no bushes. No grains. No fruit. No fence. No herbs. No vegetation. There is no dike. No weeds. No watercourse. No roses. There are no bushes. No brush. No strawberries, no trees. Neither trees nor seedlings can be found. No seeds. There are no bushes anywhere. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. No trees. No vines. No leaves. There are no banks.

No berries. No hedgerows. No herbs. No vegetation. No hedges. No under brush. No brushwood. No roses. No bushes. No brambles. No burs.

No trees. I can't find any trees.

No saplings. No seedlings. No timbers. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees. No trees at all. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless. Treeless.

Where did the trees go?

No vines. No leaves.

I am not indoors either.

No floors. No canvases. No chairs. No tables. No benches. No desks. No floors, towels or chairs. There is no table. No carpets. No bed. No bookcase. No furniture at all. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

Just dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. And dirt. Just so much fucking godforsaken dirt.

I am outdoors. In nature. In dirty, grimy nature.

I should be in my tent. There is no table. No carpet, no bedding. There are no books. There is no furniture. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing, just dirt, dirt left here by God.

No.

There is no forest without leaves. Why am I not at home? There is no canvas. There is no chair. Without seats without seating, there is no carpet without an office. Nothing. Nothing! I'm waiting for a dirty. . . what is this? Do you feel something? What are you?

Wait. What's this?

I feel something.

What is this? What are you?

It's wood. It's not a tree. It's square. It's sharp. It has a corner. And OW! Splinters. Now I have a splinter! Damn you! What are you?

A beam? A beam, leaned on something.

On what? A wall? Are you a wall? Yes. A wall. Wooden.

Am I inside? I'm inside. No. How? How am I inside. There's so much dirt. What is this? Why is there so much dirt inside? It feels like a road, all packed in and travelled on. Busy, busy, like on the highway. No. This is not a highway. I'm not outside. I'm inside. In. . . in what? Am I in a cave? How did I get into a cave? AM I in a cave? Why am I in a cave? Is this a cave? I can't tell.

Where am I? Where did the beams go. I need to feel them again. Something's not right here. This can't be a cave.

How did I get here?

You're a vertical surface. You can help me up. I won't have to crawl around grovelling in the dirt any more. If I hold on to the wall and walk along you, maybe I can find my way out of here and back into sunlight. Why is it so damned dark in here? I can't see a thing.

Searching. Probing.

Probing. Searching.

Through the darkness, for anything that might reveal to me where I am.

Piling. Scaffolding. Plank.

Joist. Pillar. Rough. Old.

Crumbling. Decayed. Decomposed.

Mouldered. Rotted.

It will collapse. Oh! It's not stable. It gives if I lean on it.

This whole place will fall in on me.

Wait. I felt, gravel on the ground. Where was that.

Ah! I found you. Cold. Smooth. It's a crystal. Quartz? Maybe? Or Selenite? These aren't gravel. They're gemstones. Am I in a mine? Oh my! Did I fall down a mine shaft? Oh that's not good. Some mines are miles deep. And have so little air. But a mine! No wonder there is no light. I could be miles underground.

By the feel of the stone and dirt and massive timber beams on the wall, it's gem mine. A Dwarven gem mine. I seem to have found myself in a roughly hewn chamber of some sort. Some sort of cave. Or a tunnel. A sod house, maybe?

A mine? Oh. It IS a mine isn't it? A Dwarf mine? No? Yes. It must be. It has to be. What else could it be? How did I get in a Dwarf mine? I can see nothing, damn it! The shades of stone, dirt and rot from the huge wooden posts hanging from the walls are all the same. Pitch black. Blacker than my string of black pearls. Where are those? I should wear them again. If I ever get out of here. I need to get out of here.

The beams feel like scaffolding for mine shafts.

I can't find out for certain in this dank darkness.

A tunnel, perhaps?

Under a mountain?

But to do what?

And where?

Where am I?

How did I arrive here?

I simply can not recall.

Why can't I remember?

Have I stumbled into a mine shaft?

Did I discover a mine by accident?

I do not remember. Why can't I remember? Why is my memory so poor of late. I forget so much.

It concerns me greatly that I can not remember in what way or manner I arrived at this place. Did I come here by design? Was I abducted? If so, than by who? And why? And where are they? Why would they leave me alone here? Why can't I remember how I got here? Or was it a portal? Oh! It could have been a portal! Did I fall into a portal? Oh! I could be any where. Any planet. Any dimension. Any time. Oh! How would I even know? By what means did I come to be here? And where exactly was here?

It is dark.

So very dark.

So very extremely dark.

So very extremely, extraordinarily dark.

Ah! What are you? Nothing helpful? Time-worn wooden pilings are leaning against walls. I can feel them. And the walls are made out of stone and collapsing clay. Dry clay. Smooth and silky. It'd be good for my skin. I should take some with me, but I've no way to carry any.

And what was that sound? I hear sounds. I don't know what they are. I can't see a thing. I hate that I can't see. I'm wandering in blindness.

Quaraun continued inching ahead, ever so slowly.

Deliberately. Reaching out. Hands outstretched.

Into the darkness. Touching the wall.

The dirt on the wall is thick and dry, barren, parched, but not sandy. It's. . . powdery.

Caked. Clumping. Smoothly textured like talc mixed with clay. Heavy. It smells like the rich dark peat clay found under a forest's leaf carpet.

What a wonderful smell.

Dirt would be nice if it wasn't so dirty.

I love the smell of dirt.

I just hate how badly it soils my clothes. And my hands. And my hair. Silk is so hard to get clean. This clay smells so nice. If mixed it with water it would feel so nice on my skin.

Using his fingers on the earth wall as a guide, Quaraun pursued the passage, hoping to find an exit. Or at the very least, a light.

Who knew what is lurking in the darkness with me? Beasts. Monsters. Bandits. There could be dangers lurking all around me. I'd not know to run.

Oh my! What was that? I heard something. There is a great abundance of noise. And soil dribbling down from the sod ceiling with every vibration.

Distant. Moaning.

Rumbling. A mountain that rumbles.

Was this a cavern in. . .a volcano?

It bears resemblance to a mine shaft, but maybe it's not.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I need to listen. For danger. I must take notice of every sound. Be always alert and ready to run. Except run to where? I can't see a thing. Not one single, solitary thing. If I trip, I'll break my neck. How am I supposed to run from danger when I can't even see my own hand? Why the hell is this place so dark? This is the darkest, darkness I've ever been in.

OW!

Damn it! What was that? Stubbed my toe. Now it hurts. I was already hurting enough. Now I hurt more. I didn't need more hurt. I needed less hurt. Damn darkness.

Accursed darkness.

Damned accursed darkness.

Stupid blackness everywhere.

Eternal blackness.

Why does it have to be so damned dark in this place?

And I'm alone.

I hate being alone. I'm just always alone. No body cares. No one. Ever. Not no one. I have no one. BoomFuzzy's dead. He killed himself. Because I killed Gibedon. I shouldn't have killed Gibedon. I had to kill Gibedon. Gibedon was going to kill BoomFuzzy. Why did he have to die? I never should have killed Gibedon. BoomFuzzy would still be alive if I hadn't killed Gibedon. He loved Gibedon. BoomFuzzy loved Gibedon. Why did he love Gibedon?

He hid Gibedon from me. He loved Gibedon and he didn't want me to know. I thought he loved me. I loved him.

I loved BoomFuzzy so much. Why didn't he love me? We were soul bound. I cut my soul in half to be with him. Part of him. Him part of me. I would have loved him forever. I do love him, forever. I'll always love him. Why did he have to die? Why did he kill himself? I don't understand. I miss him. I miss him so much. I feel so alone without him.

There is so much darkness here.

Just everywhere.

There could be monsters all around me and I wouldn't know it. I can't see a thing. And this tunnel just keeps going and going. It doesn't end. And I can't see where I'm going. I got to get out of here.

And it's hot and humid. Dry and muggy. Both at the same time. It makes my lungs hurt. And it makes my head hurt.

And my eyes and my throat.

It's so hard to breath in here.

It's so dark and dirty and I hate it.

And that smell. Sulphur.

But I am so tired.

I need to rest.

Need to lay down.

So tired.

Quaraun lay down on the ground and drifted off into a fitful sleep. Though he'd only been awake for a short while, his fear of the dark had exhausted his mind.

Quaraun was prone to not think clearly when he was afraid.

Prone to panic.

Prone to forget, in his panic, that he had supplies with him. Supplies he could use. Like a lamp. And matches to light said lamp. Both of which were tucked away inside the little bag of holding hanging from his belt.

Quaraun's fear of being lost and alone in the dark, was so great, that he had forgotten, where he was, or why he was there, or what he carried with him.

And so Quaraun wandered through the caves of Fire Mountain, traumatized, terrified, not knowing where he was or how he had come to be there. Not remembering that he had gone to the mountain, seeking the Obsidian Idol, which sat in the bowels of Pepper Valley's ancient volcano.

The hours slowly ticked away, timeless, in the silence of the darkness, of the subterranean caverns of Fire Mountain's underbelly. Quaraun slept, passed out on the dirt path. After many hours of sleep, he awoke once again, to find himself still alone, still in the dark, still so deep in the earth, that there was no way to tell day from night.

It's dark. It's night.

Have I slept all day?

No.

It's not night.

I'm in a mine. Or a cave. A dark, dark cave.

Darkness still. There is no light.

I need to see something. There is nothing to see. I need light. Without it my mind wanders into its darkest depths, when I can't occupy it. I hate it. I hate these thoughts. I need to get out of here. There's nothing to do. Nothing to see. I can't see anything. My mind is as dark as this damned tunnel that I now found myself wandering in. Where the hell is the exit to this place? How did I even get in here? I need to find a way out, but there's just nothing! Miles of endless nothing. How long is this tunnel? When does it end?

It's ghastly.

Foreboding and ghastly.

Ghastly and foreboding.

I miss BoomFuzzy.

I feel so very alone and abandoned. Just so alone. Alone. Unloved. Unwanted. Left behind. Cast aside. I have no one. I'm going to die down here. Lost and alone. And no one will know I died. No one will know where to look for me. Wolves will eat my body. I'm all alone. Alone. Nothing but darkness all around.

The lonesome darkness all around me.

Above. Beside. Below.

Isolation. Desolation. Seclusion.

Dark and morbid.

Morbid and dark.

The lonely, lonesomeness of how very alone I feel is bearing down heavy upon me in this endless, eternal darkness.

Gloom and doom.

Doom and gloom.

Depressed and forlorn.

Ominous and sad.

Sad and dismal.

The anguish, bitterness, misery, and despair.

I can feel it all around me. My depression bearing down on me, worse than ever before. Like a sickly presence I can not escape. It follows me everywhere. I hate it. Why won't it leave me alone?

Day and night. Night and day. Always there. Always watching. Always waiting. Waiting and watching. Watching and waiting.

Now, I'm lost in this dark endless cave. I feel the dark depths of despair, crashing down around me. Crushing me heart and soul, body and mind. Mind and body, soul and heart. My soul is cut in half. Half my soul is in BoomFuzzy. And BoomFuzzy's dead. Half my soul is dead. I'm half dead. Half alive. And lost in the dark.

I must escape this darkness. But where? How? I had no idea where I am or which direction in which to go. I am lost and alone, in the darkest cave system I'd ever not seen. If only I had a light.

It seemed to Quaraun as though he had roamed aimlessly in this blackness forever. His mind crashed deeper into the depth of fretful depression.

Companionless. Despised. Rejected. The darkness around me, left me with nothing to occupy my mind. Alone now, with nothing but my own dark and morbid thoughts.

A loud deafening roar, suddenly interrupted Quaraun self pity. He sat silent, his eyes wide, seeing nothing through the darkness. Silent. Listening. Watching. His eyes detected the flicker of light up ahead. The air became suddenly warm. It was very warm. Too warm. Hot even.

And dry.

It is very dry.

The glow ahead flickered in dancing shades of orange.

A fire?

Is there a fire up ahead?

Quaraun quickened his pace.

There was a fire. I can smell the smoke.

Suddenly, the tunnel ended abrupt.

Quaraun hastily fell back and clutched for the wall. His heart raced. The tunnel had ended, yes.

And suddenly.

Very suddenly.

Too suddenly.

A sheer drop off.

A tall, sheer cliff overhanging the dark nothingness below.

I'd nearly ambled off the edge.

Quaraun inched his way back to the edge.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Cautiously. Carefully. Gradually.

He leaned forward to peer over the ledge. At the nothingness below. Darkness. Endless nothing.

Dangerous blackness below.

Ominous gloom above.

It was grim and foreboding.

Foreboding and grim.

I feel so very alone.

The lonesome darkness, all around me.

Above. Beside. Below.

Isolation. Desolation. Seclusion.

The aloneness, of how very alone I felt, was bearing down heavy upon me in this endless darkness. Gloom and doom. Doom and gloom. The anguish, bitterness, and despair. I can feel it all around me. Like a sickly presence I can not escape.

But the light. . .

It. . .

I saw a light. I know I did.

Where was the light?

It is gone.

Did I not seen a light up ahead?

The glowing flicker of warm orange flames leaping from a fire.

Where is it now?

Did I imagine it?

Surly I had not.

It moved.

It must have moved.

That was the only answer.

Yes, it had moved.

But how?

Has someone carried it away?

Or put it out?

Does that mean I am not alone?

Is there someone else here?

Someone perhaps carrying a lamp of some sort?

Someone whom had been ahead of me, but had now moved on out of sight?

Quaraun got on his hands and knees and ran his fingers along the edge of the ledge.

Perhaps there were stairs. Or maybe a ladder.

No.

Nothing.

But now I am on the other side of the tunnel.

The other wall.

Quaraun stood up, clinging desperately to the wall as he did. Terror filled the terrified Elf's chest as his heart pounded in fear.

I am scared of heights. And cliffs.

I'm scared of cliffs.

And they are so much scarier now when I can't see them.

Terrified the cliff at his feet would crumble and fall. Tumbling down the side and toss him into the unknown depths of death below.

Down.

Down.

So far down.

Into the pits of Hell.

Hot. Boiling. Bubbling. Tar pits of Hell.

Wait. That's not tar pits of Hell.

It's lava. Magma. So very far below. I can barely see it.

Am I inside a volcano?

Where am I?

Why can't I remember?

Why is it so hard to remember?

Remember. . .

. . .any thing. . .

Something.

Nothing.

With his back against the wall, Quaraun inched his way away from the ledge. Away from the edge. Back to the safety of the darkness above. Away from the terror of the darkness below.

At least here, there I've a solid stone to my back.

Solid dirt beneath my feet.

Quaraun looked from side to side, straining to see something. Anything. But no. Nothing. Pure, total, blackness.

Above.

Below.

Everywhere.

He continued to move, slowly, feeling his way with his fingers on the dirt wall. But Quaraun hadn't gone far, only a few feet away from the edge, before the wall disappeared.

He froze. Terrified. He dare not move.

Feeling, the air, I found the other wall.

A sharp bend that veered the other way.

A tunnel off the tunnel.

Heading down.

But down to where?

I can't see. This is worse than blindness. Blindness I at least saw foggy grey swirls ahead and glimmering lights behind.

No, this, this is nothing but pitch blackness.

Empty blackness. As though everything had been sucked into a hole leaving nothing left behind.

Quaraun continued inching his way through the darkness search for something, anything. The floor of the tunnel sloped down. Sometimes just a little. Other times steeply, causing him to trip and fall, and tumble forward, landing hard on the ground. The old Elf skinned the palms of his hands as he flung his arms forward into the darkness, trying to break his fall. One such fall was worse than others, as the tunnel, inclined sharply, and Quaraun fell headlong, tumbling and rolling all the way to the bottom.

Dazed. Dizzy. Bleeding. Scraped. Bruised. And confused. Quaraun sprawled on the ground for a few moments, before struggling to stand.

No.

I can not stand. I'm too dizzy. I've hit my head, too many times on the tumble through the darkness.

Blood trickled down Quaraun's face from a cut on his forehead. More blood trickled from a split lip. His pink silks, were growing wet from the blood seeping from his scraped knees.

Quaraun sat on his knees, clutching his hands over his head, trying to stop the spinning, vertigo sensation that was just now swirling around him.

He felt faint.

"No. Don't faint." He said out loud. "Stay awake."

He tried again to stand. Slowly this time. Dizziness flooded through him, pounding though his head, like a herd of horses galloping through his skull. Ocean waves, flooding behind his eyes.

Quaraun squeezed his eyes shut tight, hoping the swaying he felt would go away. His tentacles wrapped tightly around his body, hugging him, comforting him.

By the gods, what is that?

He had no time to think. No time to react. A giant, glowing yellow-orange slug, the size of an elephant, came barrelling through the wall. The wall shattered and crumbled around it. Blazing hot lava-slime, dripping with golden orange acid, burned through the wall, melting the rock.

A Lava Slug! Good god. I didn't any still existed.

Quaraun scrambled out of the path of the massive, peaceful behemoth as it made it';s way through the mountain, making new tunnels as it went.

"Argh!" Quaraun woke up. He sat blinking and looking around.

He had fallen asleep slumped over the table.

He tried to remember where he was.

Ghirardelli's hovel.

Yes. That's it.

That's where he was.

The dark cave had been a dream.

A nightmare.

Only a dream.

No.

Not a dream.

A memory.

Of Fire Mountain.

Home of King Gwallmaiic.

The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley.

BoomFuzzy.

Years ago, Quaraun had gone to Fire Mountain, and became lost in the mass network of Lava Slug tunnels. That was when he had acquired the glowing crystallized Lava Slug poop. which he now used to light the room he was in. The sulphuric order the crystal gave off, had triggered memories of being last beneath Fire Mountain, causing him to dream, nightmarish memories of his time list in the darkest depths of the mountain's caverns.

~o0o~

Four years earlier. . ..

"A house wizard dispatches Quaraun to retrieve arcane and mysterious information that only the Thullids possess. A powerful magic item is said to be lost in the ruins of the ancient city," Quaraun said to no one in particular. Largely because there was no one around to talk to.

Legends told tales of a mysterious mountain, which could appear out of no where, whenever and wherever it pleased. Disappearing into the mists from which it had mysteriously immersed, the mountain proved itself difficult to find. It was said that Quaraun could find it. And because it was said that Quaraun could find it, a fellow wizard, whom Quaraun had never met before, had commissioned Quaraun to seek out the mountain.

Normally Quaraun did not take on such quests, but, this particular mountain had been on his radar for a while now. For this, was Fire Mountain, home of The Elf Eater of Pepper Valley. Leastwise it had been his home, centuries ago, when he was still alive.

"What am I doing here?"

Quaraun stood on the cliff, looking down at the gaping black hole. A steam vent, from a long inactive volcano. The ancient, old Elf got down on his hands and knees and peered into the hole.

Nothing

He could see exactly nothing.

"There has to be another way in. A better way in. A way in, that doesn't involve me tying a rope to god knows what and hoisting myself down into god forsaken pits of who the hell knows what's down there."

Quaraun stood up and looked at the cliffs in front of him. It went up and up and up and up and up, so far up, that he could not see the top of it.

Behind him were trees. Lots and lots of trees. Big ones. Pine trees. Old growth. Mast trees. Great for ship builders. Not so great for people who didn't like to be lost in the forest.

Fire Mountain. Here it was. Maine's ancient super volcano. Long dormant. One of four largest volcanoes in the world. The volcano rumoured to have been so devastating the last time it erupted, that it caused the Ice Age and killed every dinosaur on the planet, by blanketing the planet in ash, preventing the sun's warm rays from reaching the surface and causing instant mass flash freezing of the entire planet. Or so say scientist who study such things.

A volcano, so big, so deep, and so ancient, that it was rumoured to contain the world's last surviving dinosaur. A huge, viscous black scaled, fire breathing dragon.

"I suppose, I could just jump in. If I die I'll just start my life over. Won't I?" The bizarre question was enough, without having to give an exact answer. "How many lifetimes can I live, before I stop reliving the same life over and over again? I never jumped down this shaft before, did I? I don't remember. I've a dragon to get past. Jump it is."