The Goose- three days since Taldur visited Claybed port...

The afternoon sun shone down upon the calm waters of Horndrake lake, still, peaceful and tranquil, nature's basic beauty personified, a scenic image of glistening sapphire water that would sear itself into the minds of any who appreciated the simple things in life.

Many a fisherman floating out on the lake in their small boats were happily getting in the last few hours of 'work' for the day, hoping to get a few more good hauls before they paddled back to their homes and waiting wives in the countryside or city.

The small dingies and scattered watercraft were dotted about in uneven spaces as the men fished with rods or nets, but they were mostly close enough for the various men to call out to one another if required.

A precaution and superstition rolled into one, this behavior ensured that if any monster or threat were to attack, it would quickly be noticed by at least one fisherman allowing the rest to fight off or flee with greater efficiency.

Attacks of any sort were very rare, so long as you did not let your boat drift into the wrong places within the lake, it was even unlikely that you would be attacked at night on the lake if you were alone.

Even so, most fishers preferred to practice their craft or hobby during the day when it was a little safer, the small gathering of fishers that took place out on the lake, not really hurting the hauls brought in at all.

This safety in numbers did not protect one from all the perils of the lake however...

"By Fruka's soggy tits! give that back here you thieving Pecker!" a man bellowed, water being violently splashed about as the same man struggled to hold onto something that wriggled around in his grasp

*Honk Honk!* the thing quacked before a flash of a striking bill preempted a pained human whine.

"Ouch! you little blighter!"

With a final struggle, the writhing ball of feathers wriggled free before leaping out of the boat into the water, paddling away rapidly.

The sundried wrinkly looking man of perhaps fifty years reached out and snatched at the escaping bird that had a distinct brown patch on its head, failing to catch it before it slipped away.

Well out of reach, the bird turned to flutter its wings and make a din as it flapped away triumphantly with a hard-won piece of metal glinting inside the large bird's bill.

"Faaaauck! That bloody Pecker stole me brand new gutting knife again!" the wrinkly man cursed, " thats me third one this month!"

"Too bad prickly Pete! Another victory for the pecker!" A passing man wearing overalls laughed mockingly from his own boat as he paddled past, his boat already full of a bounty of fish, " You should full well know by now Pete that the horned geese on this lake will filch just about anything shiny or colorful, especially that particular pecker over there."

The fellow fisherman pointed to the large somewhat lopsided goose that was watching them carefully, the gleaming knife still held in its bill as it floated too far off to reach.

"You should make sure ya stuffs always a little dirty like the rest of us, instead of trying to be squeaky clean and polished all the time." the man advised shaking a single finger in disapproval at the noticeably more brightly dressed Pete.

"Ahh shut yer lousy trap Gorrdon," Pete snarled while narrowing his eyes at the goose responsible for his robbery, "It's not because I've got good taste and you don't that the things after me," the grouchy man insisted as he gradually pulled his barely filled nets back in, "No! That bedeviled bird is just evil and has got it out for me it does! just look at it! It's taunting me! I swear it!"

Gorrdon slowly turned to look at the bird that, by now, had begun to paddle away, no more shiny objects to be stolen within the vicinity tempting the creature to reside here any longer.

The amused gray-haired man turning back to Pete with a snort.

"Och! Ever prickly ey prickly Pete?" Gordon shook his head exasperatedly before sitting back down on his boat and working the oars, "the way you talk about that pecker you'd think it was the Tarr grouggnak that you were harping on about."

"Ehhhhhhh... Shut it already" Pete growled taking his eyes off the goose, "I swear Gorrdon you take that bloody bird's side more than mine, not to mention feeding it bread crumbs all the time! you should be more like Wolby and throw rocks at it instead."

"Wolby!? that guy's a bit of a twit!" Gorrdon shook his head, "besides I don't take your side because it's a bird and..." Gorrdon lifted a finger, " because you're a tightass Pete, and a spoilsport, when's the last time you contributed to the village stores?"

Pete blinked, scrunched up his face furiously, and addressed the opposing man, "I can't help it if you can't handle my way of life Gorrdon, Unlike you I have standards to keep."

"Standards maybe," The other old man chuckled with a sharp look, "but you certainly haven't got any fish, were your standards too high for them perhaps?"

"What?! you punk!" Pete bristled, "if we weren't in boats right now I would deck you right over for that!"

The two men in their rowboats made their way back to shore, fiercely arguing and insulting each other the whole way, just two old cantankerous fishermen going through a daily if somewhat noxious ritual, Pete swearing that he would get that accursed bird tomorrow and Gorrdon laughing mockingly in return, a typical end to an otherwise normal day, both men returning to Hapoom village.

One of its eyes watching them go the whole time, the floating avian with a knife still held in its mouth, finally relaxed when both fishermen drifted out of sight, the goose paddling off in a specific direction, some sort of goal in the bird's divergent mind.

This mutant goose was widely known by the frequent visitors to the lake, as Pecker, A name the peculiar bird had received from the locals due to its tendency to viciously peck and pinch anyone and everything that it both took a shine to and disliked, both qualities receiving the same treatment from the boisterous bird.

The goose itself did not understand what its name meant, but it did recognize when it was used in relation to its person.

Pecker was both a loved and despised fowl among the fishing communities, due to the amount of trouble it caused and the hilarious hijinks that often ensued in the wake of its destruction.

The goose had stolen innumerable household objects, some of which were later found floating in the lake, but most of that which was dragged into the water was never seen again.

The goose had pulled washing lines and their raiment into the mud on more than one occasion, had taken a fancy to snatching and accidentally wearing the hats right off peoples heads, and had developed a strange habit of leaping out of bushes and honking as loudly as it could in an attempt to scare people.

These few examples were only but a small sample of the havoc this bird brought to the community, it had even once stolen documents from the hated tax collector that came around to visit monthly, the well dressed official chasing the bird around only to fall into a muddy pond, later returning formless and sodden, with a new hate of water-dwelling fowl.

Naturally, no one save the tax collector begrudged the bird this, and Pecker had earned much praise in the village for its deed after the taxman had been forced to lower the rates.

A wooden carving of the goose harassing the tax collector was even placed in the center of the village to commemorate the event as both a joke and tribute.

Pecker was indeed a peculiar creature.

She was an odd goose of abnormal size, form and thought, and stood out distinctively on the rare occasion she was found amongst her peers, being larger and covered in mismatched ruffled clumps of mottled plumage, one more horn than average for its species also adorning its bill, the bird's unusual behavior matched its appearance.

But even if it behaved and looked a little differently, Pecker was still a goose and did not care for the desires and thoughts of the flatfooted plodders that hanged around the edges of the lake.

Pecker really loved three things most in life, bright colors, reflective shiny surfaces, and mischief.

The acquisition of the first two things just so happened to often fulfill the third.

Pecker was a self-made goose that prided itself on its ability to secede and thrive on its own.

It did not flock with other geese, as was typical, but instead preferred to be on its own while it maintained the endless quest it had set for itself.

The quest for all things bright and vibrant.

Shiny knife still securely held in its bill, the bird made steady progress towards its destination as the sun began to get low in the sky, night fast approaching.

The goose looked up at the orange evening sky and shifted its wings slightly as it considered flying the rest of the way.

Night was a perilous time for a lone goose out here on the lake, even for one as large and as confident as Pecker.

She was not a great flyer, all things considered, she was too heavy to easily lift off and found it tiring to maintain altitude, unlike the more normal geese of the lake, thus she preferred to waddle or paddle if there was no urgency.

Weighing up the exhausting option of flying, the goose seemed to settle on continuing to swim, the lone fowl merely speeding up a little in her efforts.

Night was dangerous for geese, but Pecker didn't seem worried, she was almost there.

Having arrived near a ghostly white lone rock jutting out of the water like a spire, the goose knew she had arrived at her destination.

Or rather above it.

Fluttering her wings in preparation, the fowl leaned down before plunging into the water, paddle feet kicking as her wings pinned themselves to her side, the bird smoothly cutting through the gloomy murk of the lake as she dived deep.

Swiftly gaining depth, the goose began to slow as it reached the muck of the lake floor, little to no light reaching this deep into the cool undisturbed waters, the area being desolate and empty of plantlife or any defining features, rocks and silt being the only things visible to those with eyes unused to the murk of the deep lake.

That's why those who dwelt on the surface would never spot the behemoth remains that lay untouched here, The pile of scattered bones resembling the body of some massive beast that had been no doubt very fearsome in life, the fleshless skull and jaws being larger than an entire elephant, numerous rusted blades and other decaying weapons jutting out of the of small cracks or fissures in the skull.

Mementos of the many battles and devastating conflicts the still corpse had once starred in, now little more than ornaments on a rotting coffin of bone, the original owners of these decayed weapons of war likewise strewn about the massive husk, bodies nothing more then bare skeletons, untouched since they fell.

The entire length of the monstrous skeleton was covered in signs of battle, harpoons and spears lodged into the softening marrow here and there, while enormous cracks lined the whole thing, the skeleton being so large, despite its damaged bone structure and curled up position, that the husk had to be over fifty meters long, the serpentine cadaver being a truly impressive specimen that any zoologist or hunter worth their salt would drool at the prospects of finding.

Even while desiccated and hollowed out, this body of motionless entropy was not quite empty, not quite devoid of the last vestiges of life, inside its eroding shell of calcium, a tiny echo burbled and reverberated in the otherwise silent water, a purple gleam shining in an eye socket as it slowly swiveled to follow the passage of the nearby aquatic bird.

The ancient bones here sung a solemn hymn of solitude that would tell a story to those who would but stop and listen, but in this place of isolation, there were none to listen save for the paddling goose.

The goose Pecker ignored the siren call of the aching bones, having heard that song many times before, a trivial thing the goose could neither quite understand nor care to understand, the only thing of interest about the bones being the purple shiny thing in the other eye socket that the goose had so far been unable to pluck out and carry away.

It infuriated the goose to no end that she could not pry the pretty purple eye free, but she had long since given up on yanking out the gem-like orb.

At least the sound that the bones emanated endlessly kept most predators away, that was one of the reasons the goose liked this place.

Continuing on without stopping Pecker kept swimming, almost where she wanted to be.

Spotting what looked like a mound of jagged rocks in a massive trench, the bird paddled hard, it wasn't difficult for her to hold her breath this long, but she didn't like running through half her air before arriving, it was better to have some leeway.

Predators, while not common here, still came sniffing about occasionally, and having air to spare should a chase ensue, was something the goose had come to take up as a habit.

Swooping under a stony underhang, knife still clutched in her bill, the bird swam leisurely through the Cenotes opening, tiny hyphax crystals lighting the way along the aquatic cavern's limestone walls.

Once she was in the aquatic cave Pecker didn't have to worry anymore about predators, they didn't like the bright lights and would never come into the lit-up cave.

Taking her time, the goose gradually paddled towards a familiar sight she was glad to see, the wavering shimmer of a surfacing pool.

Shooting upward the goose erupted out of the water before clambering onto a stony plateau, blinking at her surroundings as she waited for her vision to adjust.

The goose was standing in a hollowed-out cavern under the lake that was lit up by numerous hyphax crystals of various sizes each cluster hanging firmly from the ceiling, while small plant-like growths spread out here and there around the rough stone walls, some of them showing signs of nibbling.

It was a large space for a single bird to lay claim to, yet somehow the fowl had managed to make it seem cramped with the many small piles of assorted junk stacked up everywhere.

This was both Peckers home and her trophy room.

Waddling over to a nearby pile of other knives, the bird proudly placed the newest addition carefully on top before honking victoriously while flapping, celebratory outcries bouncing around the walls of this underwater cave, a million honks replying as her calls were echoed and magnified by the cavern structure.

Satisfied, the goose shook itself dry before waddling over to a nest built out of a combination of twigs, reeds, socks, and other soft household objects, the nest placed directly in the middle of the cavern amongst the various piles of 'treasure,' the bird slowly placing herself down to study both her more recent acquisitions and her most favored.

Glancing first at its newest addition the bird cocked its head, the knife was a nice steal, but it was unremarkable otherwise, just another pointy shiny to add to the collection.

Turning its head the bird observed the many-sorted and carefully organized 'treasures' she had amassed.

Most obviously, there was a mountain of coins of varying colours and shapes that made perhaps one of the bigger piles, some Pecker had found on the lake bed and others she had filched from unwary travelers.

Pecker liked these round things they were always sparkly and didn't dull quickly but even though they were nice, they still weren't her favorite.

The bird's head turned on a 90-degree angle to study more of her belongings, piles of metal shoe straps, buttons, nails, hair ornaments,and even what looked like an expensive zweihander sword.

These were but a few of the odds and ends she had managed to acquire, there being far more to see in her ever-swelling collection of junk, but to the average human being most of it was simply trash or trifling curios.

But not all of the fowls finds were so lackluster, mingled with a store of various glass shards that caught the light, valuable cut gemstones like diamond or emeralds were scattered about, carelessly mixed into the more worthless pile of glass shards, a variety of more magical stones like hyphax and small black pearls that radiated cold, similarly being tossed into the very same stack.

To Pecker they were all the same thing, so the goose didn't bother to separate them, not to mention, the little black pearls were always cold and she did not like that at all.

But it wasn't just shiny or glowing things Pecker enjoyed, she also liked herself a good bit of color, and a rainbow range of vivaciousness surely had its place in the fowl's heart and hoard.

Two bright blue scarves, a yellow banner, bright green gloves, a vivid orange wig, and a collection of stained lesser garments were the most visible bits of rainbow explosion on the nearest pile.

Picking up some misplaced items of raiment, Pecker placed them back down on the nearby pile, she had more colors but the rest were buried under the clothes and fabric on top.

Color placed where it should be, Pecker leaned to one side glancing lastly at her most favored above all items.

First was a purple orb that always seemed to turn on the spot towards the goose, very much like the orb still lodged in the skull outside, the goose had obtained the orb years ago from the skeleton and kept it here, as she liked the way it turned to look blankly every time she moved.

The goose liked a bit of attention now and then, even if not often.

Gaze diverting to the bottom of the nest Pecker made herself more comfortable on the second item, or rather items, the many red tufts that layered the inside of her nest, vividly red and pleasing as she focused on them.

A very recent find, the tufts had been plucked only three days ago from a weird snakey bug thing Pecker had seen at the port.

Soft and insulating as they were, it had been a bother getting those tufts, but only a little, the bug thing had tried to bite her every time she pulled a strand or two from its back, snapping at her and trying to ambush her.

Of course, Pecker was much too wily and quickwitted for the stupid but vibrantly shaded bug to succeed in catching her.

Besides she was certain she could have dealt with the snakebug easily if she had deigned to fight it, she just hadn't because she didn't need to.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Pecker fluffed her feathers, as she confidently stood, 'she was a great fighter, she'd won every fight she'd been in, those worms she'd had yesterday for breakfast hadn't stood a chance.'

Of course, she had only ever fought things smaller than herself but that hardly mattered, she was sure she could beat that oversized snakebug with a single foot.

Quacking to herself Pecker looked towards the third and last item in her premium selection, a yellow gemstone the size of a hen egg, that oozed a warm yellow murk whenever it dimmed.

Much like the tufts, the yellow crystal was relatively new, Pecker had only found it a week ago near an outflow from the sewers, a single point of sickly brilliance the goose could not pass up.

The goose had many shiny or glowing rocks in its possession but this one was different from the rest, in that it actively made the goose feel good to have it near, both warming the nest with magical radiance and giving the bird a sense of company despite never doing more than whispering incoherently when the Goose slept on its nest.

Pecker had dubbed the stone, the nest warmer, and currently it was the birds most favored above all treasure, even if the tufts from the bug thing kept clinging to it annoyingly.

Glancing fondly at the yellow stone, the bird, taking one last look at the rest of its hoard, preened her feathers before settling down to lay her head flat, eyes slowly sliding shut.

It had been another fruitful, if exhaustive day for the goose.

Falling into a doze the last thing the bird registered as she entered her dreams was the inane whispering of her nest warmer, the stone pulsing before releasing slight vapors of murk, the gem warm and comfortable to curl around.

"Mine... it's all mine..." the stone whispered after a few moments, the red insect tufts magnetized towards it as the purple orb swiveled to regard the yellow crystal blankly.

Already asleep, the goose didn't notice at all.

...

Waking early, feeling well-rested and ready for another day of plunder, Pecker rose from her nest puffing out her feathers before stretching and stepping out of her comfortable bed, swaying back and forth as her senses booted up.

She'd had a funny sleep thought while she had slept last night, a giant thingamajig with a ton of spikey legs and mouths had appeared.

At first Pecker had been afraid that the thingamajig would eat her, it being larger than the goose could see, but the giant thing had done nothing save for thrash aimlessly at something Pecker couldn't make out in the distance.

Eventually, she had realized it was harmless and looked like a bug, a really really weird bug, but still a bug.

And she normally ate bugs, crickets, cockroaches, worms, all creepy crawly kind withered in terror whenever she appeared.

She was their devastator, their destroyer of worlds, a verified bug annihilator, she wasn't gonna let herself be intimidated by some uppity sleep-thought grasshopper.

With this proud inclination reinstalled, Pecker had haughtily lived up to her namesake and charged the massive bug thing to bite it on one of its many legs, her bill surprisingly clamping straight through the limb as if it were a rotting weed.

Pulling the limb off Pecker had blinked, slightly confused, a spiny flailing limb held firmly in her mouth.

She'd half expected the creature to keel over already from her mighty blow, but it still hadn't fallen...

Slowly pivoting around, gaping maws licking their razor teeth, the creature flowed across the floor like sludge while simultaneously dragging itself on multiple limbs, both arms and legs, pushing the undulating mass forward.

'Maybe attacking had been a bit too hasty' the goose had internalized at the time as she crept backwards, a little regret on the birds mind.

"What is this?" the monster had drawled from thousands of different mouths.

Feeling an overbearing presence weigh down on her Pecker had struggled to move, the goose genuinely feeling terror despite her earlier gumption.

That is until anger came to the bird's rescue

'How dare this bug make her 'the bug devastator' feel fear!'

Dropping the still moving arm she had charged the big bug...

"Annoying... go away..." the mouths had hissed at her valiant charge just before she struck a fatal blow, multiple limbs reaching out to intercept her brave assault.

Just as she was about to rip the bug thing a new rear end, she woke up...

Pecker inclined her head proudly in the present, even giant dream bugs were no match for her, 'the bug desvastator' her sleep-thoughts must have only ended because even her own dreams were terrified of her prowess.

In high spirits at her victory over the immaterial, Pecker stretched, nibbled some of the nearby greenery that grew in her cave before plunging into the pool that led to the outside world.

Winter was coming and during winter, shiny pickings were scarce, the land plodders and the shiny things they liked borrow for Peckers convenience, hiding away inside their wooden caves out of the goose's reach.

So she aimed to go hard and fast in the weeks before winter truly set in.

Swimming out of her cave past the ancient skeleton, she breached the surface, her beady sights already set on the distant Hapoom village She had a whole day of booty to acquire.

...

The harvest was magnificent.

Beads were ripped off necklaces, a purse of round coins was stolen, a whole tea set of fine china was desecrated, and even lunch was provided for the occasion when someone sat a fish pie to cool on their open window sill as a certain goose passed by.

Pecker was having a fine time at it today, she was in top form and still on a roll as she collected some cutlery that had been left on a table, snatched a beakful of polished display pebbles, pinched an unwary traveler on the bottom before stealing a pair of keys he'd had, and in general made an absolute ruckus as she rampaged through the village, laying claim to anything that caught her materialistic eye.

People cried out in mock horror or genuine annoyance as the goose quickly waddled through.

"Watch out! the peckers coming, it'll steal ya socks!!"

"It ate my pie again!"

"Where did some of my beads go?! that bird!"

"What a hoot!"

Some chuckled good-naturedly as they watched the fowl pass by, draped in numerous items and articles of clothes, and the children of the village relished the chaos, taking the opportunity to follow the bird at a distance, watching Peckers unending quest with pointed fingers and laughter, copying the bird's tactics as they crept up on the adults from behind and shouted out *HONK!* whenever they were able too, just like the bird would.

Still, none of these kids could truly keep up with Pecker, the goose zooming about honking raucously as she went, single wingedly ransacking, bags, boxes, and unclosed sheds while she indulged in her klephtic ways.

Until, when the sun was beginning to dip over the horizon, the goose decided it was time to stop.

Covered from beak to paddle in acquired loot, it was getting hard to move around under all of her accessories.

She wasn't going to leave any of it behind though, it was simply time to return home for the rest of the day.

She had already been going back and forth between loot runs to store her treasure, but it was finally time to call it quits, night was not that far away.

Waddling towards the lake at a leisurely pace through the village, Pecker felt at peace, her lust for loot temporarily satiated.

Or maybe not...

Spotting a shed door leaning wide open when she was only a few meters away from the lake, Pecker curiously turned to peer into the open building and spotted something that immediately sparked her interest.

A small polished golden statuette sitting on an empty wooden workbench.

About to rush in and grab the item, Pecker forced herself to stop and warily investigate her surroundings, paddled foot not yet inside the unsecured structure.

She did not see anything suspicious nearby, but the statuette was a little 'too' undefended.

Cautiously she advanced one flipper at a time until she was right beside the bench, with a flurry of movement she flapped onto the curiously clear bench, carefully reaching out to pull at the gleaming statuette with a clawed paddle.

It wouldn't move.

Aggravated Pecker, pushed, then nudged, then bumped, and finally pecked at the stubborn object.

That last attempt sparked a result the goose had not expected.

*Crash!*

A wooden cage fell from the ceiling to encircle the startled goose, she had not bothered to look up for it, since she knew plodders could not fly.

A grave mistake she realized now.

Alarmed, Pecker tried to push through the bars, but she was too big, she tried to move the cage over to the edge, but it was weighed down with metal weights, she did her best to gnaw through the wooden bars but her signature attack was doing nothing to the sturdy oak.

She was trapped!

Refusing to give up Pecker flailed against her encircling prison, only pausing to take a breath when she heard a crusty snicker sound out nearby.

Closing the door he had been hiding behind, prickly Pete, Peckers nemesis, made his appearance.

"Finally caught you, you no good thieving water pidgeon," the man cackled as he neared the workbench," it took me a long while to set up this little trap with bait you couldn't refuse but it was worth it."

Seizing the edges of the cage in a rush, the old man brought his face near to the bird as she huddled back.

"The whole town will thank me for what I'm gonna do tonight," the cooky man told the bird, "I will put an end to your dirty antics."

The old man lifted the cage, and in that second seized Pecker by the neck before she could scamper past, frantically hissing and clawing, her uneven paddled feet kicking out as she tried to break his grip.

"Nuh-uh," Pete clucked before tightening his grip, strangling the large goose, the oxygen being prevented from reaching her brain.

Going limp as she gasped for air, the old man took a wood axe off the nearby shed wall and pushed the door open, stepping outside with a sigh before heading towards a tree stump set aside for log splitting.

"Looks like I'm having a horned goose supper tonight" Pete whistled as he held Pecker down to the stump by the neck, taking a few practice swings as he warmed up.

"Now stay still Lil birdy, I'll make this quick,"

Pete raised his axe high and knowing this would spell her end, Pecker tried one last thing with her remaining strength.

Lifting up the larger of her two flippers she jabbed her webbed claws into an old scar on the old man's hand that still looked raw.

"Yow!" Pete exclaimed at the bleeding cuts in his hand, axe trajectory slightly wayward from that occurrence.

*Thunk!*

Pecker felt a terrible searing pain on her bill, but for a second the old mans grip had loosened.

She could not miss this.

Wings fluttering open, she broke Petes hold before flapping up into the sky clumsily

"Blasted bird!" the old coot screamed before his axe came tumbling at the unsteadily rising goose.

Leaning to the side, she avoided the axe and turned to fly as fast as she could for the safety of the lake, Pete running behind her till he reached the shore swearing the whole way.

The village of Hapoom shrinking into the distance, Pecker, had lost most of her haul and her beak was feeling absolutely miserable, she was angry.

She had made a stupid mistake, she knew that plodder was after her, it was the single plodder she took special precautions around, and yet she had fallen for its simple trick.

Head drooping as she labored to stay airborne, the goose stared at her reflection as she flew home, the blood dripping from her head to strike the lake surface.

Her beak... her beak was gone, lopped jaggedly off, a gaping bleeding hole where her prized bill had been.

Feeling weaker knowing the severity of her wounds, she crashed into the water by the rock spire submerging herself to feebly paddle to the depths where her cave awaited, the leviathans skeletal purple eye watching with interest as she pushed into the underwater grotto, it's siren song louder than ever to the faltering Pecker.

Flopping up out of the water, Pecker feeling fainter by the second struggled to stand before making her way over to her nest.

She needed to rest, she felt drained, weak...

'Resting will make me better, in the morning everything will be as it was before,' the goose deluded herself, the knot of fear inside her refusing to be honest.

Tripping and falling into her nest Pecker lacked the strength to reposition herself, eyes falling upon the objects inside her resting place.

The purple eye watched her as usual, the eye acting particularly attentive today, fixating upon the blood pouring from Pecker's beak before looking her in the eyes questioningly, the siren song echoing around the walls of the grotto.

She had no answer for it, she was too busy struggling to breathe, her vision was swimming.

Head lolling to the side, Pecker observed the nest warmer, it was still releasing that warmth and yellow murk but in increased intervals as if excited, some of her blood staining the stone as it fizzled on it, the red tufts twitching besides the crystal.

Glancing at all she had managed to accrue in her life, Pecker felt a twinge of dissatisfaction and longing fill her fragile frame.

'Was this all my hoard will amount to? who will fill it after I'm gone?'

That was the last thing the goose thought before she succumbed to the song, weakened mind and body taken by the siren waves, images of a vast serpentine creature with bright purple eyes and a mane of thick seaweed overcoming the bird.

The serpent patiently swam around the fading spark in the darkest recesses of the false lake, singing a gentle lullaby as the soul sunk to the bed of inertia, a bright yellow fissure opening up beneath the weakening spirit, only for spiny limbs composed of misty light to drag her down, the serpent still singing the lullaby, following in after her.

"Mine..." a disembodied voice hissed as the fissure sealed shut.

...

Prickly Pete- The very next day

Early in the morning, on his tiny rowboat not far from the shore of lake horndrake, the old man known by most as prickly Pete or simply Pete, wrestled with a net that he had carefully tied together.

He was in good spirits despite the backlash he had gotten for his actions yesterday.

Only yesterday he had struck a decisive blow to that foul fowl, a lethal one, and now he wouldn't have to fear robbery by bird anymore.

When he had told the other villagers, however, he had not received the warm congratulations he had expected, but instead shock and even scorn.

"I know it ate my pies, but I didn't want it dead!?"

"You old selfish bastard! The children loved that animal!"

"Y- You killed Pecker! What the hell Pete! That thing was hilarious."

A few people had patted him on the back for his effort, but the vast majority of the village were displeased, even going to the length to give the departed nuisance a little memorial over by the carving of the stupid bird attacking the taxman.

It had disgruntled him at first, but he had gotten over it quickly, they were all useless layabouts anyway.

All that mattered was that the goose was dead and he could fish in peace.

Having set up his fishing rod in one hand, Pete sighed contentedly, lying back to get comfortable, waiting for a few bites, all his gleaming tools lain out beside him confidently.

He sat relaxed for a few minutes before he recognized the tug of a fish on his line.

"Ooooh, got one!" Pete grinned before reeling in the catch, reeling hard whenever the fish rested and giving a little slack when it fought.

Soon enough, he pulled up a decent-sized fish with strange purple eyes.

"Weird, I have not seen a fish with eyes like this before, must be a lucky sign," Pete chortled before slapping it into his icebox, still running high off his recent victory.

Having been so engaged in catching that fish, Pete only just noticed a bank of mist had moved in while he was distracted, it was so thick that he almost couldn't make out the shapes of the village structures in the distance.

Shrugging, the old man resumed fishing, mist was nothing to worry about this close to shore, not to mention his boat was anchored right now, he wouldn't drift off.

Whistling a merry song that echoed in the pale shroud, Pete continued to catch fish every few minutes, the catch rate was high today, he didn't think he'd ever been this lucky before.

The strange thing was, that every single one of his catches had glazed over purple eyes.

It had been inconsequential at first, but now it was alarming him.

"The hell?" Pete said aghast when he pulled in his net, and the many fish of varying types and species caught in it, all had purple eyes.

Something was weird here, some sorcery or dark magic had to be at fault, not only did the fish all have purple eyes, they were of species so different he should not have been catching them all in the same net.

Pete did not understand magic or know anything about it, but whenever something he couldn't explain happened, he called it dark sorcery and left.

Pulling up his anchor Pete frowned as it felt lighter than it should have, quickly pulling it up to stare at the frayed and chewed up ends.

His anchor had broken, how long had he been drifting?

Glancing back in the direction of the town, Pete couldn't see the tops of the buildings anymore, in fact, he couldn't see anything!

He could not see the sky or the sun in it, the shore or any distinguishing features, only endless mist and unnaturally calm lake water.

Bearings lost and sweating a little, Pete didn't know where to paddle or if he should, it felt like if he made a noise something bad would happen.

So, unwilling to touch the water, he sat quietly until he could see something, a tall spire of sun-bleached rock?

Even as his sweat chilled, Pete was puzzled, he had been around the entirety of the massive horndrake lake, and he had never seen this spire before, had he missed marking it down?

The stone was strangely untouched by anything save for signs of wind weathering, odd given that birds roosted and shat on just about anything they could.

Looking closer at it, Pete could see words carved onto the spire in faded writing, the vast majority of those words worn away, save for a single verse.

...Here lies a sleeping nightmare, we could not kill it fully, pray that it never again awakens...

Doubting his eyes Petes grip on the boat edge slipped, and his hand slapped against the rock before plunging partly into the water, disturbing the calm mirror surface.

Scrambling back and clutching his wet hand, Pete hyperventilated in his boat feeling as if he had committed a taboo.

Surface rippling from the disturbance, Pat held his breath, nothing happening for a good few seconds, exhaling with relief when no curse was enacted upon him.

"I'm getting paranoid," Pete chuckled nervously, "I should just paddle until I find the shoreline then follow that home."

Pulling out his oars Pete stuck them into the lake surface...

...Entirely breaking the reflective mirage to reveal thousands of unmoving dark shapes that waited just below it, dull purple eyes staring at him motionlessly.

"Gehh!" Pete cried falling onto his back and rocking the boat, a faraway echo reminiscent of singing beginning to prickle the hairs on the back of his neck as the motionless fish began to move.

Slowly at first, but with increasing vigor, the fish gathered, whole shoals of the things darting in precise patterns beneath his boat.

Moving swiftly now, some of the fish began butting into Pete's vessel, nibbling and biting at the oars or even leaping out of the water to thrash on his tiny watercraft by the dozens, every second, more of them piling on to weigh the boat down.

'They are trying to sink me,' Pete understood pulling out a harpoon he had kept from his younger days, he started stabbing at the fish while cursing repeatedly, impaling those biting at his oars and knocking the ones that jumped, back into the water.

But it made little difference, the blank-eyed fish were tireless and would leap straight onto his harpoon without hesitation to weight it down it up and tire the old man out.

That disturbing music getting louder, Pete fought the fish with everything he had, but one cranky old man was no match for a whole lake of fish.

Little rowboat straining, the cusp of the boat tipped, water flowing over the edge of the craft to fill it swiftly, the fish that been flopping at the bottom, pulling it down and away from Pete as he paddled in place, the goosebumps on his body abruptly covering him from head to toe.

He was in the water with the freakish fish.

Expecting the creepy fish to swarm and bite him to death, Pete's breathing was harsh, the man lunging out frantically whenever he thought a fish was approaching from behind.

But they didn't, the many fish only swimming in a spiral around him, blank purple eyes not even watching him.

The fish may not have moved yet but Pete's ears and head were aching as that haunting melody grew only louder.

Paddling in place, Petes head rung and his vision wobbled, the purple eyes around him blurring into thick lines that made his head swim.

'That blasted awful... N-nasty... beautiful song...' Pete murmured, the tune looping in his ears over and over again, almost pleasant to his reeling senses...

Until at last, he could hear nothing else, feel nothing else, but the lullaby...

Dazed, and hardly seeing his surroundings, Pete barely responded when a massive shape surfaced in front of him, the creature hidden in the mist save for its long silhouette, and glaring luminous violet eyes.

Enthralled, Pete could only watch in horrified awe as he felt the light of the surface disappear, and water fill his lungs, the living nightmare and its terrible eyes following him as he was dragged down.

Unable to scream or call for help, prickly Pete disappeared under the surface of the lake, never to be seen again.

...

The Narrator

No one noticed Pete had disappeared for days before Gorrdon brought it up at the village.

Shrugging most assumed the old grouch had simply taken a trip and would be back soon, the crotchety man did like his privacy.

But they were wrong he did not come back ever.

Worried, a search party was sent out, returning on the same day with Pete's dingey but no Pete.

"Pete's gone? what do you mean he's gone?! And why did you come back so early? it has not even been a day." the village elder said aghast when the men returned.

"He's just disappeared elder," the men in the search team replied anxiously while glancing nervously at the lake, "we found his boat, but it was empty and wet all over as if it had been sunk, then some mist started thickening and we all got a bad feeling, so we left."

"That's it?! a bit of mist scared you off! Pwah!" the elder scoffed white beard jostling

"But elder the feeling... it wasn't natural, it felt like something was watching us,"

"Hmmph you boys listen to too many campfire stories, there has not been a monster in the lake for decades" the elder grumbled, "search again tomorrow."

So the next day the uneager men did just that, but only two-thirds of them returned as night fell.

"What's this? where are the others?!" the elder exclaimed.

"They were taken," one of the younger shivering men quivered, " It- it- it got them! the- the mist, the horrible purple eyes!"

Pushing the younger man aside Gorrdon who had also been a part of the search team addressed the elder.

"There's something dangerous out there," Gorrdon said gravely, " it took Wolby and few others, we heard their screams."

Blanching, the elder whispered to the more trusted Gorrdon, "are- are you certain it's a monster, and not just the boys playing tricks on you?"

"No, it could be a monster or a spirit, I don't know which one, but after the screams we saw Wolby or... what was left of him."

"By the gods" the elder paled "Wolby is dead?! so there is a monster!! we need to contact the adventurers immediately!"

Watching as the elder ran off far faster than his aged form suggested he could, Gorrdon internalized something he had not told the elder.

He had seen the silhouette of the monster, it had been large enough to flip the boat he and others had been riding on, and its violet reflective eyes had stared at them.

He had thought it was going to kill them like it had killed Wolby, but it only watched, its stare meeting his, before diving back into the deep waters, the mist and boatful of men that had been attacked, gone with it.

It had spared him, and consequently all the young men in the boat with him, 'why?'

He didn't know, it was beyond him, but somehow he felt he had already seen this beast before, it was a strange feeling.

...

The tale of disappearing fishermen was a common one, so not many people were surprised when the first few happened.

But... That did not remain the case.

With increasing frequency, people began to disappear more and more on the lake.

At first, it was just a single fisherman, then it was two or three, then a small group of men went missing.

Some authorities noticed the trend but didn't care enough to act, the lives of a few fishermen were hardly worth anything.

So aside from the villages and families that took losses, almost no one understood what was happening or how serious it was.

That is until a team of iron rank adventurers were eventually sent to deal with the issue a couple of months later, and when they did not return, then, the authorities finally bothered to pay attention.

But it was too late, having grown bold from its many successful attacks the mystery monster began assaulting larger targets, ferries, and small cargo ships sinking under the ripples of the lake one after another, the survivors of these attacks speaking only of shadows in the mist, purple eyes, and a terrifying but enchanting song.

Trade routes threatened and rumors received, the city finally decided to take action, hiring out adventurers and other mercenaries to hunt down this watery menace.

These groups met with little success, the wily creature avoiding all capture or baiting attempts.

Slowly over time, people recalled an old folktale about a monster that dwelt in the lake, that had never been caught or found.

With increasing fear and worry, people grew to distrust the water, less trade daring to travel the now perilous lake, whispering and shrinking back when they were forced to cross its depths.

A wise decision, for now, the feared local legend itself had seemingly returned.

The Tarr Grounack.