Karlach couldn’t contain herself. Her booming laugh echoed across the festival grounds. She doubled over, clutching her sides and gasping for air, her wild grin stretched ear to ear. “Oh, Alex!” she finally managed, her voice choked with laughter. “I’ve seen you stare down death and win, but a chicken and a clown? That’s what gets you? And the restraint! You didn’t even send him into oblivion—I’m impressed!” She clapped him on the back with such force that another puff of petals erupted into the air, sticking to her hands and scattering around them like confetti.
“A remarkable display,” Gale chimed in, his tone carrying the lighthearted sarcasm of someone deeply amused. He folded his arms, leaning casually against his staff. “I must admit, that clown certainly has a knack for theatrics.”
Even Shadowheart, the model of composure, failed to hide her amusement. She turned slightly, a hand covering her mouth, but the telltale twitch of her lips betrayed her. “You know,” she said softly, glancing at Alex from the corner of her eye, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so... festive. The flowers suit you. Perhaps this should be your new battle attire—imagine the terror you’d strike into your enemies.”
Alex gave her a flat stare, but Shadowheart’s display of humor only made her smirk grow wider.
Lae’zel, standing stiffly with her arms crossed, initially scoffed, her disdain for "foolishness" palpable. “This was a waste of time,” she muttered, though her sharp eyes betrayed a flicker of something softer—amusement, perhaps? She paused, and added, “Still... watching Alex humbled by poultry and pastries was not without merit. ”
Wyll, meanwhile, was utterly incapacitated. He was leaning against Karlach for support, his face red and streaked with tears of laughter.
Alex stood in the middle of the chaos, his usual air of calm authority replaced with the unmistakable aura of a man rethinking his life choices. His stoic expression remained intact, save for the faint twitch in his jaw, as he ran a hand down his cream-smeared face. “I’m so glad my suffering is such a source of joy for all of you,” he muttered, his voice dry enough to parch a river.
“Come now, Alex!” Astarion crowed, still sprawled on the grass, kicking his legs in the air like a child who’d just heard the best joke of his life. “You must admit, this was the highlight of my day. If nothing else, consider this fair retribution for that charming date you arranged for me and Lae’zel.” He shot Alex a wicked grin. “Oh, the poetic justice! I shall cherish this memory for eternity.”
“Highlight of the day,” Alex repeated under his breath, brushing another stubborn petal from his shoulder with the resigned dignity of a man who knew he’d never live this down. “I’ve fought monsters, undead, and horrors that defy comprehension. But this... this is my greatest trial.”
The group erupted into fresh laughter, each companion adding their own taunts and jokes until even Shadowheart was shaking with mirth. Alex, for his part, stood stoically amidst the chaos, though the faintest upward twitch of his lips betrayed his hidden amusement.
As they began to walk away from the stage, the sound of Dribbles’ voice rang out one last time, booming over the cheers of the crowd. “Thank you, thank you! You’ve been a marvelous audience! Don’t forget to tip your local clown, and always beware of... the Goblet of Destiny!” His exaggerated bow and flamboyant exit—complete with a spinning pirouette and a puff of smoke—left the audience roaring with applause.
Alex glanced back, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught the faint, metallic tang of blood still lingering in the air. The cheerful facade of Dribbles and his bizarre props suddenly seemed far less whimsical. His gaze lingered on the curtain for a moment longer before he turned away, filing the mystery away for later.
As the group walked further from the stage, Karlach slung an arm around Alex’s petal-covered shoulders, grinning so wide it was a wonder her face didn’t split. “Don’t worry, buddy,” she teased. “One day, this’ll just be a funny memory. Well... funny for us. For you? Eh, maybe in a few decades.”
Alex sighed, shaking his head as yet another petal fluttered from his hair. “If any of you bring this up again,” he said with a pointed glare, “I will personally ensure the next pie finds your face.”
“Bold of you to assume we won’t bring it up every single day,” Astarion quipped, skipping ahead like a gleeful child, his laughter still echoing.
And so, the companions walked on, their camaraderie strengthened by the sheer absurdity of the moment. Alex, for all his quiet suffering, allowed himself a small smile. After all, enduring the relentless teasing of his friends was a small price to pay for the bonds they shared—even if it did involve chicken feathers and pie.
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The forest was alive with the soft hum of insects and the rustle of leaves, the air thick with the scent of earth and decay. Lara knelt beside a moss-covered log, her fingers brushing gently over the smooth, red cap of a mushroom speckled with white spots.
“Amanita muscaria,” she murmured, her voice soft with admiration. “Poisonous, but so beautiful. Nature really does have a flair for drama.”
Behind her, Glut tilted his mushroom-like head, his voice resonant and thoughtful. “Indeed, it is a fine specimen. Did you know its spores, when fermented, can create a substance that disorients enemies? I once used it to send a giant spider rampaging through some intruders. The chaos was… delightful.”
Lara chuckled, rising to her feet. “I’ll take your word for it. My uses for mushrooms tend to be less... theatrical. Alchemy, medicine, maybe the occasional stew if I’m feeling bold.” She glanced at him with a teasing smile. “But I admire your creativity.”
Glut moved closer, his eyes fixed on a nearby cluster of fungi. “Mushrooms are life,” he said with a reverence. “They nourish, they decay, they protect. Even in death, they serve the cycle. Tell me, Lara, do you ever consider how much you owe to fungi? ”
She nodded, her gaze sweeping over the forest floor, where tiny mushrooms peeked from the shadows of roots and rocks. “I do, actually. They’re the unsung heroes of every forest. Decomposers, healers, even light-givers in the darkest caves.” She crouched again, gesturing to a small cluster of bioluminescent mushrooms glowing faintly in the shade of a tree. “Like these—foxfire fungi. When I was a child, I’d collect them to light my room at night.”
Glut leaned in, his voice softening with an almost fatherly pride. “Beautiful... Imagine these lining the paths to ward off trespassers. But tell me, Lara, why do you pluck them so freely? Does it not pain you to sever their connection to the network?”
She hesitated, brushing her fingertips over the glowing caps before speaking. “It used to, when I was younger. But I’ve learned to be mindful. For every mushroom I take, I plant its spores somewhere new, ensuring the cycle continues. I never take more than I need.” She smiled, standing and dusting off her knees.
Glut tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing in approval. “A rare perspective for a mortal. Most see only what they can use, not the balance they disrupt.
They walked in silence for a moment, the forest canopy dappling them with shifting sunlight. Glut suddenly paused, gesturing toward a towering mushroom-like tree with bark the color of ash and a massive, rippling cap.
“And what do you see in that elder?” Glut asked, his tone testing, almost teacher-like.
Lara studied the tree, her sharp eyes tracing the gnarled grooves of its stalk and the thick network of fungi clustered at its roots. “A towering elder, feeding the earth and its kin. Likely a polypore species. Its mycelium must stretch for kilometers beneath our feet. A silent giant, holding the forest together.”
Glut chuckled, a low, resonant sound. “Correct, but you missed its true purpose. That elder is not just a provider—it is a guardian. Protecting the smaller mushrooms that grows under him."
Lara’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting to the massive mushroom with newfound respect. “I didn’t know it could act as guardians."
Glut’s voice grew firm, laced with a quiet pride. “Then you have much to learn. Mushrooms are neither passive nor helpless. They are the unseen architects of the world you cherish. They endure, adapt, and when necessary... they conquer. ” He paused, his tone softening. “But you, Lara, tread lightly. You see the beauty, not just the utility.”
Lara smiled, her eyes lingering on the elder mushroom for a moment longer. “And you, Glut, have taught me something new today. Maybe next time I wander a forest, I’ll walk with even more care, knowing how much is hidden beneath the surface.”
Glut inclined his head slightly. “A wise choice. The forest remembers those who walk with reverence.”
Their footsteps softened as they continued through the forest, their shared interest for fungi weaving an unlikely bond between them. The forest whispered around them, its secrets alive in the hum of life beneath their feet.
The forest air was cool, and the soft rustle of leaves filled the silence between them as Lara perched on a fallen tree, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the bark. She glanced at Glut, his imposing, blue armored figure blending with the muted light filtering through the canopy.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Does it not... inconvenience you to walk with that armor on?” Lara asked, her curiosity breaking the stillness.
Glut turned his eyes toward her, pausing for a moment before answering. “No. The armor is very light.”
Lara raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she studied him. “Really? It looked thick from my perspective, but... I’m not exactly an expert on armor.” She hesitated, twirling a strand of her hair as if debating whether to speak further. Finally, she asked, her voice softer, “Can I see your face?”
Glut stiffened. “Why?”
She offered a small, sheepish smile. “I’m just curious. I mean, I’ve spent half the day walking with you, and I don’t even know what you look like under there.”
“I can’t,” Glut replied simply.
“Oh.” Lara blinked, her expression faltering. “I understand.” Her tone was quiet, her gaze dropping to her hands as if embarrassed by the question.
Glut tilted his head, sensing the misunderstanding in her silence. “It is not that I will not,” he said, his voice measured, “but that I cannot. The helmet is one with my body.”
Lara’s eyes widened, and she looked at him again, trying to process his words. “Right...” she said, her voice trailing off as her mind scrambled for understanding. Then, after a pause, she asked cautiously, “Is the armor cursed?”
Glut shook his head.
“An oath, maybe? Some kind of binding?” she pressed, leaning forward slightly, though her voice had softened with concern.
Glut’s eyes fixed on her, and she faltered under his silent gaze. She withdrew a little, her shoulders shrinking. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking away. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
The silence stretched, but before it could grow awkward, a soft glow began to bloom in the corner of Lara’s vision. She turned, her breath catching as she saw Glut standing utterly still, his form now adorned with a dazzling array of multicolored mushrooms. The soft light they emitted shifted in hues, casting an ethereal glow around him.
“Beautiful...” Lara whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the forest. She rose slowly from the tree, stepping closer, her gaze captivated by the living mosaic of fungi.
Glut stood unperturbed, his voice calm yet carrying a depth that Lara hadn’t noticed before. “I am not as you assumed,” he said, his words measured and deliberate. “I am no man hidden beneath armor.”
Lara’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. “Then... what are you?”
He hesitated, the faint shimmer of the mushrooms reflecting off the dim light filtering through the trees. Finally, he spoke, his tone steady but tinged with a quiet weight. “I am... a myconid,” he began, pausing as the words settled between them. Yet, in the hollow spaces of his mind, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. “I still see myself as one, but I am not what I was. " Not since the day he had tried to kill Alex. His voice wavered almost imperceptibly, but he pressed on. “This,” he gestured to his form, “is not armor. It is me.”
Lara’s breath caught in her throat as realization dawned. The vibrant fungi covering his body weren’t mere adornments—they were him, living and breathing. She stood frozen, torn between awe and uncertainty, her fingers unconsciously tightening .
“You’re...” she whispered, her tone careful but not fearful. “... unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Not in a bad way”
Glut inclined his head slightly, his green eyes unreadable. “I am...” His words carried a complexity that Lara couldn’t quite unravel, a mixture of gratitude, resignation, and something deeper.
Breaking the silence, he added, his voice even yet carrying an unexpected warmth, “You tread softly through the forest, and you listen. That is rare among your kind.”
Lara nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing . A quiet respect bloomed within her, displacing the initial uncertainty. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle but sincere.
Glut’s motion was almost reverent as he inclined his head again. “You see beauty where others might see decay. "
The forest seemed to hold its breath around them, the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves blending into the serenity of the moment. For the first time, Lara felt she was no longer just walking through the forest but standing within its living heartbeat.
Yet, within Glut, the silence was anything but peaceful. Something strange stirred inside him, unfamiliar and disorienting. He felt a sensation in his chest—a rhythmic beat, subtle yet undeniable, and it left him confused. Myconids didn’t have hearts. They didn’t feel warmth or lightness, or the peculiar way his focus lingered on Lara.
It unnerved him.
‘What is this?’ he thought, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the sensation. His gaze flicked toward Lara as she gazed at him, her expression soft yet curious. Her presence stirred that sensation further, and for a fleeting moment, Glut felt untethered.
Then another thought surfaced, unbidden but sharp: 'Is this Alex’s doing?'
Glut knew the answer wasn’t simple. His transformation—from a myconid to whatever he was now—had been Alex’s hand at work. Alex had changed his very DNA, a consequence of Glut’s own actions. He had tried to kill Alex once, driven by rage and ambition. Alex, in turn, had ended Glut’s original form and reshaped him into something new, something neither entirely myconid nor entirely human.
Alex had called it “a second chance,” but Glut hadn’t fully understood the implications of that until now. What had Alex made him into? Was this peculiar feeling—this lightness, this confusion—part of the change?
His thoughts swirled, but he kept his gaze steady, unwilling to let Lara see his unease.
“You okay?” Lara’s voice broke through his thoughts, her tone laced with gentle concern.
Glut hesitated before responding, his voice steady though his mind remained a storm. “I am... adjusting,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully.
Lara tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. “Adjusting to what?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his eyes toward the horizon, where the forest thinned and sunlight filtered through the trees. “To what I am. And to what I am becoming.”
Lara didn’t press further. She simply nodded, her expression thoughtful. The silence between them returned, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt, in a way, like the forest itself was holding space for their unspoken words.
As they walked on, Glut found himself glancing at Lara more than once, the strange feeling in his chest lingering. Whatever Alex had done to him, whatever this transformation had awakened—he couldn’t shake the sense that it was only the beginning.
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As they walked, Glut felt a faint but unmistakable brush against his mind—something, or rather someone, familiar. His head turned sharply to the left, his eyes scanning the dense forest.
“Is something wrong?” Lara asked, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her blades, ready for trouble.
Glut shook his head slowly. “An ally has returned,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity as he began to walk ahead, his steps brisk and deliberate.
The pair moved cautiously through the forest, the thick canopy casting shifting shadows across their path. Each snap of a twig and rustle of leaves heightened their awareness, but Glut’s focus was unwavering. They soon reached a clearing, the dense trees giving way to an open space bathed in golden light.
At the center of the clearing stood a ramshackle hut, its walls patched together with scraps of wood and vines. Smoke curled lazily from a small fire burning in front of it. Next to the fire sat an ogre, hunched over as he turned a chunk of meat on a crude spit.
Glut’s steps faltered, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. This was an ogre he remembered.
Lara, wary, unsheathed her blades in a fluid motion, her stance tense and ready. But Glut remained unfazed and strode forward.
Hearing footsteps, the ogre’s head shot up, his thick fingers gripping a massive club. He rose to his full height, his shadow stretching across the clearing.
“Stay back!” the ogre barked, his voice a deep rumble that carried both warning and confusion.
“Lump,” Glut said firmly, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. “What are you doing here?”
The ogre squinted, his gaze narrowing as he inspected Glut from head to toe.
“Who are you?” Lump asked, suspicion thick in his voice.
“I’m Glut,” he replied simply.
Lump snorted. “That mushroom with the attitude was small. You’re... tall,” he said, his tone laced with disbelief.
Glut closed his eyes, focusing on the faint mental connection he still shared with Lump. It was fragile, like a thread, but it was there. He reached out through it, a gentle tug to remind Lump of who he was.
The ogre visibly relaxed, his grip loosening on the club. His expression softened, though confusion still lingered in his eyes.
“What happened to you?” Lump asked, his tone shifting to one of wonder. “Why do you look like that?”
“Alex made me stronger,” Glut said simply, his voice steady.
“And you?” Glut continued. “What are you doing here ?”
Before Lump could answer, Lara’s voice cut through the moment. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her sharp tone betraying her unease. “But who is this ogre?”
Glut turned to her briefly. “This is Lump, a subordinate,” he said, the words clipped and matter-of-fact.
Lump’s eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flashing across his face. “Subordinate?” he repeated, his tone sharp. “It seems Alex’s ego has inflated yours, too.”
Glut merely shrugged, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
Lump sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath before lowering his club. He turned and walked back to the fire, plopping down heavily onto a makeshift seat. “Well, come on then,” he said, gesturing for the two to join him. “Might as well hear this out.”
As Glut and Lara approached, Lump began his tale, his voice filled with a mix of weariness and pride.
“I was on a mission with Halsin,” he began, poking at the fire absently. The flames reflected in his eyes, revealing a sharp intellect that belied his appearance.
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The sun had long since dipped below the horizon by the time Lump finished his story. The fire’s soft, flickering glow cast shadows across his weathered face, illuminating the exhaustion etched into his features.
“Wow…” Lara muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She leaned back slightly, her expression a mixture of awe and horror. The tale Lump had spun was nothing short of harrowing—the way he had narrowly escaped death, how Halsin, the druid, had intervened just in time, and the sheer power unleashed when Halsin transformed into a massive minotaur through a desperate prayer to Silvanus to defeat a powerful demon.
Glut, in contrast, remained impassive. If he felt anything about the story, he didn’t show it. His eyes were steady, he poked at the fire absently.
“Where is Halsin now?” Glut asked, his voice calm but cutting through the quiet tension like a blade.
Lump raised a thick hand, pointing behind him toward the dark outline of the hut. “He’s inside. Sleeping,” he said, his deep voice softening. “After he reverted from his transformation, he collapsed. He hasn’t woken since.” Lump’s gaze fell back to the fire, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Fortunately, there’s magic sustaining his body—keeping him alive and healthy. I’ve been watching over him, guarding him, waiting for him to wake up.”
There was a flicker of vulnerability in the ogre’s eyes, sight that spoke of his loyalty to Halsin. The firelight danced across his rough features, softening them momentarily. Then his gaze shifted to Glut, his tone shifting with hope.
“Do you think Alex could help him?” Lump asked, his words carrying both urgency and desperation.
Glut let out a quiet scoff, his expression remaining composed but his tone laced with certainty. “Of course,” he said simply, as though the answer should have been obvious.
Lump exhaled deeply, a sound somewhere between relief and exhaustion. “Good… good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. His massive hands rested on his knees, the tension in his frame easing just slightly.
The figure hiding in the shadows stared at them . A wicked smile blooming on her face .