“Drawing first blood is the most unnerving part of war.” King Brian Felnus I of Alantar (92-154 A. F. E.).

Time crawled as they waited for the attack. It felt like hours, but might have been minutes, or even seconds. It slowly dawned on Garassk that maybe the bugs weren’t actually coming into the temple.

“Does anyone else think that maybe we need to bring the fight to them?” he whispered.

“Perhaps we do,” Rathorn replied. “But how?”

“We think they’re vulnerable at the joints,” Flint said.

“Good to know,” Garassk hissed, gripping his sword by the blade. “I’m ready when everyone else is.”

“Let’s go,” Rathorn growled, loading his crossbow. Everyone inched toward the exit at his command, weapons at the ready. The clicking got louder, but not in a way that indicated that the bugs were heading toward them, effectively confirming Garassk’s guess that they weren’t actually looking for them yet.

Flint charged out the door and bellowed. Garassk kept his mouth shut, but ran out after him. Eight bugs were flying about the room when he arrived. He went for the nearest bug and swung his sword for where the knee would be on a man. A gruesome crack followed by a scream told him that he’d found his mark. He swung his tail for the beast’s head next. The creature jerked from the impact, but there was little indication that the blow did anything. Let’s try something else, he thought, swinging his tail for the neck. He felt the force of the blow, and a slight indent beneath the outer skeleton. The bug screamed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another bug thrusting its tail towards him and jumped out of the way. Diama swung an ax and tore the creature’s front leg off. Yellow blood spilled from the wound.

“Yes!” Garassk shouted. “Finally, a means of fighting back!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Rathorn warned. “They’re still alive.”

Garassk turned back toward the fight to see Flint’s progress. The dwarf warrior had eviscerated a few of the bugs, and was standing his ground against the rest. Before he could move to help, he heard the faint scraping of the ground next to him, and turned to see both bugs get up and face him. He raised his shield in time to deflect an attempted sting. The blow staggered him a little, but he was unharmed. Diama jumped in and brought her ax down on the tail, severing it from the rest of the bug. The monster screamed as its tail twitched on the ground.

“Nice one!” Garassk shouted, grabbing the tail and driving it into one of the creature’s legs. The poison did its work, resulting in a long drawn-out death, punctuated by screams, twitches, and desperate attempts to lash out at the reptile and dwarf responsible for the attack. As the poisoned bug was starting to fade, the other one approached. Rathorn limped up before it could do anything, bashed the open wound in its leg with his club, and crushed its head as it hit the ground. Garassk looked up to see Flint behead the last bug with a similar brutal efficiency. The floor was covered in blood.

“Well, good news: now we know we can fight back,” Garassk said. “Bad news: it takes forever.”

“Whatever,” Rathorn snorted. “Just so long as they’re dead. Now then, we need to get the gate to the throne room open.”

“This way,” Flint said. “Hurry!”

The guard hurried to the opposite wall and opened a door Garassk hadn’t even noticed the first time around.

“Come, quick!” Flint called. “The door doesn’t stay open long!”

Garassk ran after him, while Diama carried Rathorn, despite his growls of protest.

“So what’s this?” Garassk asked, looking around the room at the racks of weapons. “The armory?”

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“Yes,” Flint said. “One of them, anyway.”

“I suppose there’s another room nearby that opens the door?”

“Correct.”

Without saying another word, Flint went over to a chunk of wall that wasn’t covered by weapons, and opened yet another hidden door.

“Up we go,” he said. The others hurried to follow him. A circular staircase snaked its way to the room they were looking for. A wheel adorned a wall on the other side of the room. Flint went up to it without saying a word, and turned it. The door at the center of the main chamber screeched open with each turn. Eventually it stopped, but the sounds of the opening still echoed long after.

“Let’s move, quick,” Flint said. “Something else might come out, and I want to close it quickly.”

They all hurried down the stairs and through the door, which was already starting to close as they drew nearer. It closed with a deafening thunderclap once they were on the other side.

“Here we are,” Flint said.

Garassk stood in awe of his surroundings. They stood on an entire bridge of stone that had various jewels encrusted into it, creating a vivid sparkle. Said jewels also adorned the city walls, the ceiling, and even the walls of the cave. The city itself looked less like it had been built brick-by-brick, and more like it had been carved from an entire mass of stone. Everything in front of Garassk’s eyes looked like it shouldn’t have even been possible.

“Gods,” he whispered. “It must have taken thousands of years to make all of this.”

“And that was with the help of magic,” Flint said. “Who knows how long it would have taken without?”

“Why do we have to be fighting monsters?” Garassk asked. “I just want to pass through here. And maybe rest for a night or two.”

“Perhaps we can come back here someday,” Rathorn snorted. “But right now, I want to go home.”

“Where to now?” Diama asked.

“The central castle, I guess,” Flint said. “Basalt closed off every door he could, so I don’t really know how much control the bugs have here. But that’s where he is.”

“I notice no one else is about,” Garassk said. “Should we be worried?”

“I haven’t been down here in a long time,” Flint answered. “You tell me.”

“We should be worried,” Garassk replied.

“Does anyone else notice those odd stones?” Diama said.

“Now that you mention it, yes,” Garassk said. Smooth spots speckled large chunks of the land as they walked through. The walls, the bridge itself, even the ceiling had them. There were undoubtedly more on the ground down below, but no one was in a rush to see them.

“What are those?” Flint asked.

“Distractions,” Rathorn grunted.

“Look out!” Diama shouted. Garassk looked up in time to see one of the stones on the ground start shaking and explode in front of them. Garassk felt his blood freeze. Most of the inside of the stone was some grotesque liquid. But something solid was covered in the liquid. A smaller version of the bug monsters splayed out in front of them.

“What is that?” Diama gasped. The small bug let out a small scream and charged towards them. Garassk swung his tail at it as it lunged for them, and sent it soaring to the ground below.

“Gods below,” Flint gasped. “Those aren’t stones. They’re eggs!”

“These creatures have been nesting here,” Rathorn growled. “And they’ve laid enough eggs to overrun the kingdom.”