It is natural to die, you know?

But that doesn’t mean I want to. It’s natural to sleep, it’s natural to cry, it’s natural to hurt, but that doesn’t mean I want to do any of those things. So I guess I’m just not going to, is that so wrong? I don’t think it is. Besides, the definitions of what’s ‘natural’ and what isn’t get really blurry and vague down this deep underground. But uh… then again…

I look around the space that I find myself in, the next floor above the floor with the gribbler. How deep underground am I again, exactly? Do you know, guy? I don’t. I’ve lost track, I’m not very good at counting or remembering things, but that’s why I have you, guy. Thanks for being a friend! With my free hand, I fumble excitedly with my cape as I walk. It’s so nice. I’m so happy!

Maybe the dungeon-master doesn’t hate me after all. Ah! What a blessed life. You gotta keep the faith, you know? Don’t give up so easily next time. Come on, guy, I don’t know how much further it is, but we have to get there. We owe it to the dungeon-master and to the rest of the dungeon, it’s the right thing to do. Something twitches inside of my skull and my body spasms, as if a jolt of electricity were running through me. But it settles down after passing through my body as I shake it out into the ground. Easy there, guy, relax. Relax. Breathe. We’re gonna get there soon, okay? But we’re not there just yet.

Looking up ahead of me, I see the end of the staircase come into sight and I breach beyond it.

Oooh! Look at that, will you? I hold my hand out as I walk, catching a drip of a thick, amber liquid that runs down the walls and press it against my teeth. I can’t taste it. But I know that it’s honey and I know that it tastes like honey. Well. I don’t actually know what honey tastes like, but I know what it is. I guess we have bees? They’re probably giant, horrible, undead bees. That’s cool. I appreciate the creativity, dungeon-master.

I stop as I realize something. Ooooooh, I get it now. That’s why we have so many floors with flowers and fields and stuff. Because we have bees. Aaaah. My fist hits my other one as I seal the realization in my mind, but as I hit myself, I accidentally smear some honey over my hands. Ugh. Well, I guess being sticky doesn’t bug me, I can’t really feel it, you know?

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Trudging through the empty hive, I kick globs of honey away, pressing it into the honey-comb walls on the side as I walk. Some of the honey-combs are empty, some are filled with globs of dripping honey and others are filled with giant, wriggly-jiggly larvae. I stop, lifting a finger to poke against the bubble that seals one of the giant maggots inside of the honey-comb and tickle it. It wiggles. My finger wiggles. Yay!

The dungeon is the best, I love it.

Better be careful not to get any honey on my cape though, haha! Did I show you my cape, yet, guy? Look at it! It’s so swooshy and purple and long.

I spin in a circle, listening to the cloth woosh around myself as I do so.

Whoosh!

I do it again.

Whoooooosh!

I stop, clutching my cheeks in excitement, smearing thick globs of sticky honey all over my face. Ah. I nod, if only to myself as I keep on walking.

Happy.

I wonder where the stranger is? I hope he’s not too far away, come on guy, let’s hurry up!

Picking up the pace, I run through the giant beehive, climbing through several large honeycombs. I notice a swervy trail, where something sharp was pulled through the wax that makes up the floor, as a trail of lopsided footsteps follow the same path that eight other feet had walked before. Together with my footsteps, that makes ten!

Is that relevant? No.

I reach the next staircase however, hurrying towards the exit. That is relevant. I have to get out. I have to get out. I run, looking at my shaking hands. The energy that is inside of me, the growth is becoming stronger and stronger the deeper its rot sets it, but the dungeon keeps counter-acting it, flooding me with more and more of its magic in order to keep my body together. But it just feeds off of that, it just grows as it gorges itself, the rot.

I hurry, the wet goop beneath my feet squelching as I run towards the next staircase. My boots stick to the stones at first, but by the time I get a few stairs up, most of the honey has fallen off, leaving me only with a sticky film that I hope washes off before too much dirt cakes to it. Gotta look my best for the dungeon-master, you know?

The next floor comes into sight fairly quickly, or maybe I’m just not keeping track of time. But I run up towards it, towards the bright light that shines from above. Rat-bone bridges span all across the void before me, criss-crossing in all directions towards a series of towers. Dead goblins lay everywhere, dozens of them, hundreds. Strewn all around the floor, hanging over banisters, hanging over the ledge with presumably many, many more lying dead down in the darkness below. We’ll get 'em tomorrow, guys!

Well, you will. I won’t be here I guess. But I know you can do it! Just look at me, if I can do it, then you can too.

Look!

I swing my cape out, letting it billow dramatically behind myself in the air. I mean, they’re dead, but I like to think that they can still see me, you know? If I can help motivate them to keep going, even just a little bit, then I think I’m happy.

Doing another dainty twirl for emphasis, I run towards the next floor, stepping over a few bodies on my way.

Happy.