Book 2: Dirt Diver’s Dance
Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades Ch: 43
At the front gate of the goblin king’s castle on the hill, under a cloudy sky threatening rain, the brothers shook hands… And other things, as they prepared to go their separate ways.
“We’ll spend the night here, then move out for the Plague dungeon. The portents are favorable for an early departure and a swift return.” Wheel of Fortune chuckled, as he shuffled his cards idly.
“I shall stay here, to protect Ghnash’s home and family.” Hermit intoned soberly. “My own essence and Will are in turmoil, brothers. As I currently am, I would be a liability in the Swarm dungeon.”
“Thank you brother…” Ghnash murmured, petting the massive spider’s head and burbling happily.
A heartbeat later, he turned his dark, huge goblin eyes on Star and pinned his ears back with a snarl.
“You… stay away from my harem… and stay well the fuck away from my daughters!” The goblin king bared his teeth at his much larger brother and growled.
“I’ll eat your eyes and skin a drum with your ballbag if you touch one of mine mine…”
“Easy Ghnash… easy.” The Necromancer slipped his voluminous black cloaked form between them, before anyone got violent. “Star… let’s find you and Wheel rooms in the human town for the night. He’s not himself at the moment. There’s an awful lot of horny goblin girl pheromones floating around right now.” The pale, heavily cloaked Gary murmured to his more flamboyant brothers.
“He gets like this when one of his ladies comes up lucky. For the next few days, any humanoid male that comes near his mates will be a threat, in his mind.” The pallid man’s hand clamped down on the angry goblin and squeezed his shoulder in congratulations. “At least one of these lucky ladies is ‘babyful’. Nice work, G-man.”
“So why is he fine with you?” Star grumbled, looking embarrassed and a little hurt.
“He doesn’t sense any life force in me.” Necro answered slowly. “I don’t trigger his instincts, because I’m not alive… strictly.”
“Really…?” Wheel asked, with an over excited look in his eyes. “I should read your horoscope… Were you born under the sign of the mongoose or the beaver?”
“We all have our little secrets, brothers… Now Ghnash and I need to go, and you need to let Hermit return to his meditations.” With that, the cloaked man wrapped the goblin king in his billowing garment and vanished into the gathering shadows.
“Spooky.” Wheel muttered happily. “He’s the biggest chunni of us all, I think.”
“Cram it, Wheel.” Judgment grumbled sourly. “I had… strange dreams as well, under that roof. Best we find lodgings and set out at dawn.”
“You had weird dreams too?” Wheel demanded as they walked together into the darkening woods. “I know I did! When we get to the hostel, I’ll read our cards.”
“Wheel, I’m going to feed you those cards… and if you pull out a bag of runestones, I’ll toss them in the lake.” Judgment grumbled at his glib and fae brother.
“And that’s why you don’t get invited to the fun parties. Just lighten up, bro.” Star sighed, his fingers interlaced behind his head as they walked through the starlit woods.
“You know I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone, right?” The man in skin tight leather pants and loose, billowing shirt of ruffle white silk complained, as he brushed back his long, wavy brown hair and sighed, radiating an aura of calm, confident strength and charisma.
“Shut up, Star… please.” Wheel murmured awkwardly.
“We have got to get you two laid.” Star grumbled.
#
Ghnash knew what to expect when the Necromancer enfolded him in that billowing cloak, that did little to help with the queasy sense of dislocation he felt. With a sudden, stomach lurching rush of something that was not exactly noise and wind, they emerged under a deeply shadowed overhang, near a distinctive, triangular stone peak.
“The veil is weak and disturbed in this place.” His guide murmured quietly. “Several strange… somethings, have… done… something, here.” The pallid man looked confused and perplexed; two expressions the wily goblin had never seen manifested on his strange brother’s usually tranquil face.
“What have you been playing at, Ghnash? I sense the presence of Truck-Kun, who should be unable to enter these realms.” The tall man demanded. “You know dimensional fuckery is taboo!”
“Yell at the stones of the mountain, bark at the trees, if you like… I did nothing here.” The goblin grumbled, much more calm, now that the sweet aroma of freshly seeded goblin damsels no longer spun his senses around with every heady lungfull of their scent.
“My new son in law has a gift like mine, a home of shadow and ether, drawn and manifested through will and art. He encamped here for some few days. He and Daisybelle may know more of this.”
The goblin waved his hand dismissively. “Come, brother. We must make passage and I have not done this before.”
“Yes, but we will revisit this issue. Truck-Kun is not to be trifled with, little brother.” The large, cloaked man murmured.
“He has been stalking my shadow, of late, when I approach the utter edges of our realms.”
“Bahh…!” Ghnash grumbled right back. “Do we jabber on, like babyful girls, or do we travel to offer aid to our brother and visit my child?” He pinched the larger man’s cloak hem and dragged him up the hill, toward the void maw.
“I’m the one who should be nervous… You do this all the time.”
#
On the other side, sundown was just beginning, forcing the pair to wait in the shallow cave entrance, until the night fully enveloped the valley and that gleaming city of white plaster spires.
“We should take that town, once we have secured the Lovers and the Plague Doctor.” Necro mumbled awkwardly, seated on a boulder beside Ghnash.
“Have you met Plague?” The goblin asked, ignoring his brother’s suggestion and sounding more than mildly curious.
“No, though I hear that he and the Lovers are close. Their dungeons are separated by a pleasant little mini dungeon; The Misty Fen, it’s called.” The Necromancer sighed. “Mostly amphibious, reptile and insect monsters. Plenty of overlap between the two major dungeons.”
“Who controls it?” Ghnash asked, as he watched the purple shadows deepen outside. “It sounds nice.”
“They figured out a way to share control of it.” The big man mumbled with a shrug. “I don’t know how.”
“Those two are super weird, or at least, that’s what Hermit says…” Ghnash shrugged as well. “He’s the only one of us who’s actually met both of them. Bad timing. Hermit just molted, now he needs to molt again… SmileyFace says so and she is most wise.”
The little green man yawned and stretched as he walked toward the outside. “Take me to the next gate… this is not so terrifying as I was led to believe.”
“Remember those words, as we transit the next void, brother.” Necro rumbled, as he slowly assumed his true form, under the hazy, early starlight.
The tiny goblin climbed up his brother’s dark, heavily scaled, boney leg and clambered into a spot at the base of the creature’s long serpentine neck. The Necromancer spread his tattered leather wings with a soft clatter of dusty, dry bones and took off into the deep purple sky.
“Air superiority!” Ghnash cackled madly, as they rose higher, to vanish into the gathering storm.
#
A half hour later Ghnash was doubled over, with his lovely breakfast omelet spattered all over the rough, volcanic passage.
“Blah! Nasty nasty!” He complained as he spat and coughed. “Cursed time difference too! Bah! Sunshine!” He gasped.
“Ghnash… something is wrong.” Necro whispered, pain and desperation clear in his voice, as he huddled even farther back into the cave.
“I cannot enter this world fully. Some new element is scouring my essence; I must withdraw. Will you retreat as well?”
“My Daisybelle and her boy are here.” He answered calmly. “I will find her… and her pets.”
“I sense the power of blood magic and necromancy at play. The cult is here and is active now, but whatever is weakening me is nothing of theirs... I’ll carry you as far as I can, brother… but I can’t stay here long without diminishing away.” Necro murmured quietly.
“Bahh, let me think.” The goblin mumbled, joining his brother in the back of the cave.
“The spirits of this place are angry and wish to help us.” He murmured a few minutes later. “I make you a charm for your Animus, a fetish to hide your nature.” He said with satisfaction. “Wait wait. I have tools.”
The little witch doctor pulled a small human figure carved of bone from his mysterious shadow power and began carving new inscriptions into the thing with a fossilized shark tooth.
He whistled a sprightly tune as he worked, inscribing mystical sutras into the bone object in characters so small as to be invisible. Less than five minutes later, he was done.
Ghnash handed his little bone dolly with spiffy, articulated arms and legs and authentic Kung-Fu Grip™.
“This action figure will call a cloak of spirit fragments to you. They will shade and shelter your soul from the light that burns you.” The witchdoctor announced with a smile. “Don’t break it. It’s a collectible!”
The dark cloaked man held the little dolly in his hand and felt… better. “Wow… I’ve never used your arts before.” He mumbled gratefully. “How long will this thing last?”
“One full day or any part thereof. Sunrise to sunset.” The goblin answered with a satisfied nod. “This is magic I gained from lady SpiderBoobs. Come, we must make haste. My goddess is worried.”
Watching the people of Port city scramble, as a gigantic, mostly skeletal dragon with a tiny goblin on its back buzzed the town was priceless. When Necro wheeled and swooped on a ship in the harbor, things really got fun.
#
The monstrous, undead dragon appeared over the city without warning, soaring down from the volcano’s cone on silent, tattered wings. His shadow sent icy fingers of horror down the spines of those people unlucky enough to be touched by the shade of his passage.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Seemingly at random, and still in eerie, absolute silence, the monster wheeled and dove on a large bellied trade ship that was just entering the bay, sailing under the ensign of light.
The first sound the beast made was a soul rending and earth quaking roar of fury, directed at the hapless vessel. The nightmare creature’s terrifying bellow was accompanied by a literal storm of bone fragments; teeth, loose skulls and other graveyard detritus, shearing away the masts and setting the ship ablaze in a ghostly, shimmering fire.
In that blaze, disjointed and scattered skeletons quickly assembled themselves from the bone-strewn wreck and fell on the screaming crew, rending them into bloody rags. The fire gave no heat, light or smoke, but it burned the ship to the waterline in a few horrifying minutes, as the dragon winged away into the lowering sun.
“Dude. That was metal.” Ghnash muttered, as they flew away.
“That ship was laden with preserved zombie shock troops, waiting to be awakened.” The Necromancer’s voice whispered in his mind.
“I smelled them, and their filthy blood sacrifice.”
“A full invasion, huh?” Ghnash growled angrily. “They must be desperate. Fly on, my goddess urges speed.”
#
Hermit sipped at a tidily cocooned snack of unknown provenance, as he floated among the goblin girls in the shaded bathing pool. The warm water and their soft conversations lulled him and soothed his ragged soul.
They were largely unconcerned by his presence, even the newest and youngest of the king’s mates showed little fear when they approached their lord’s strange and monstrous brother.
Daytime was set aside for the goblin kids to come up to the castle and play in the water, under the supervision of their mothers, regardless of the children’s parentage. Most of the goblin females who arrived at the gates, drawn by rumors of safety and food, were already babyful; carrying a litter of goblings sired by some rando gob in the wilds.
Ghnash allowed them all into town and provided food and shelter for the mothers and kids, as though they were his own progeny, as a matter of official kingdom policy.
For their first five years, little goblings were diurnal, as were their mothers, once they gave birth.
That change in activity pattern meant much better survival rates among the new otters and helped ease the burdens new mothers often face in the wilds… like roving, brutish, often cannibalistic goblin men.
In goblin Town, the little goblin girls and boys romped and splashed in safety, under their mothers’ watchful eyes. The tint green tots raised a mighty ruckus, laughing in sweet, high pitched tones that felt… right.
Hermit sighed softly, as he contemplated the goblin boys… fated to a life of brutal ignominy and violence. At seven years old the blood curse would begin to take hold, dragging them inevitably into a near mindless state of rapacious savagery.
For now, they tumbled naked on the lawn and wrestled with their sisters and brothers in a happy, giggling mob.
“You seem pensive, Brother of my king.” Sabrina purred, as she drifted by, rubbing her belly with a smile of immense satisfaction on her face. “Tell me what is on your mind, if you wish. Chelsea and I have little else to do, until our time comes.” She said with a smile.
“Yes, yes! King Ghnash smashed our lady bits good good… now we are babyful together… Chelsea and the queen… babysisters…” She murmured in awe, as the idea hit her at last.
“yes, sweet Chelsea. We are babysisters now… all thanks to you and your magic mouth.” Sabrina sighed happily. “But brother Hermit is growing uncomfortable… We talk no more of king Ghnash’s mighty babymaker.” She nodded sagely at the enormous spider and smiled.
“How many babies have you made, oh mighty Hermit?”
“None, lady Sabrina.” He answered shyly. “Among my race, males are typically not… sapient. Do you know what that means?”
“They are stupies? Like double dumb dumbs?” Chelsea asked sweetly. When the Hermit nodded, she erupted with joy, bouncing with excitement. “Chelsea reads king Ghnash’s human books! Chelsea is smart smart! Ghnash says so!”
“Yes, like goblin boys, my male kin are… super stupies.” He sighed. “When we get a spider girl… babyful, she must bite us with her poison fangs. After that, she eats all our thinking stuff, before she puts her eggs in our body, to feed the little ones.” He answered in a very mild tone.
“So I have made no babies at all.”
“... never?” Chelsea asked quietly. “Did you never want to get a spidergirl babyful?”
“I know I look like… this.” He answered in a whisper. “But inside, I’m like king Ghnash… I’m a human man, inside this body. Spider girls are not right for me.”
“Oh… sad sad.” Chelsea mumbled. “You’ll find the right spidergirl someday… Then you can smash her good and run away!”
“Chelsea!” Sabrina scolded her new sister. “Hermit has more on his mind than spider booty! He has deep thinking and stuff!”
“Spider booty, spider booty!” The horde of little goblings began to chant, picking up the new, naughty word with the ease that all children learn such things.
“On that note, I shall retire.” Hermit whispered, as he began climbing from the bath. “Peace be upon this house, blessed mothers.”
As he climbed into his nest in the rafters, his keen, web enhanced senses heard Chelsea’s whispered query.
“Do spider boys beat their babymakers like goblin boys do, when they can’t get spider booty?”
“Chelsea… I dearly wish that our king was home, so you could put that mouth where it could actually do some good.”
#
“Welcome back!” Ward cheered from a hammock, when Hermit appeared in that strange dream world again, an instant after falling asleep.
“I’m sorry about last time, I got a little… out of hand.” He mumbled apologetically.
“Where were we, before I was so rudely carried off and cruelly beaten within an inch of my life.”
“I heard your cries for ‘mercy’, brother. You can jest all you like, but I will not be a player in your little farce without good reason.” He answered tartly.
“Whatever kinks you enjoy are none of my affair. Kindly keep them to yourself.”
“Ouch! That stings a little!” The strange man complained. “This is not about me, though. Despite how awesome I am… in this passion play, you are the star.”
“I refuse.” Hermit snapped.
“You haven’t even looked at the script! Give me a break, guy! You don’t even understand what we’re trying to offer you…” Ward whined bitterly, before his voice dropped to a soft whisper, perhaps meant for himself alone.
“...both of you.”
“Then tell me, lay it out, ‘cards on the table’, as Wheel of Fortune likes to say.”
Ward rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically as he prepared himself for what was to come.
“My sweet plumeria explained some things… about your… condition, right?”
“Three hundred year old virgin?” The spider asked in a very cold tone, one that was absolutely frigid.
“Yeah…” Ward sighed. “You see, there's this goddess, a close friend of the family. She really went to the wall with us, all the way…”
“Lady Thirp, the blessed Weaver of Shadows.” He answered, sounding much less chilly, suddenly.
“Lord Ghnash and lady Daisybelle taught me her catechism and showed me her supplication prayers. I have had little success, though. I fear that my soul does not resonate with her calling.”
“She can’t approach you, brother. You are too… too much for her to be near, in her current state. That is where my old buddy Aclintherios comes in. He can Contract you, since he’s, like…” Ward waved his hands about to indicate something too large to get his arms around.
“You know?”
“A round, plump abdomen is a sign of health and virility, among my children, Ward, human god of Death.” The truly colossal white huntsman spider whispered… And nearly blew them both away with his sudden presence in the distant void.
“And you, Gary Ward, who is nearly my child… Will you enter my service?”
“I still don’t understand why.” He answered feeling bolder this afternoon. “Why should I Contract with any god, yourself included?”
“That is a question that is more complex than you know, but also, quite simple. Life is filled with these little anomalies.” The spider god sighed.
“Most Contract with gods to gain or grow their powers and influence. This is something I can do for you… but as you are already far along the path, the gains will be marginal… in this life you now live.”
“That sounds both unpromising and mildly ominous.” Hermit mumbled into his mandibles.
“Oh? Ominous, perhaps. But unpromising, no… I offer you the promise of my support, which is not inconsiderable. I also offer what no other deity can; a place where you will truly belong.”
The titanic spider reached out with one immense leg, somehow stretching across the fathomless gulf to hover, just within reach of Hermit.
“I have works underway and allies who need my aid. Perhaps when my tasks are done I can consider your offer.” Hermit mumbled awkwardly. “My brothers need me.”
“Yes, they do. And you have many more brothers and sisters yet to meet and much more work to do.” Aclintherios whispered from very far away.
“Join my children and then we shall begin to unravel the tangled web you’ve been thrown into.”
With some trepidation, Hermit reached out and brushed the tip of that absurdly large leg with one of his own… a rush of warm, welcoming feelings and voices deluged his mind, creating a sweet harmonious song that rang his carapace like a warm fuzzy hammerblow to his cephalothorax.
“Nioce, right?” Ward asked, when his mind began to clear. “Old Acli really packs a wallop.” The mad jackanape murmured happily. “Now comes the good part. When I finish with you, a new, old friend will visit you.”
The black clad man’s hand landed on Hermit’s shoulder with a friendly and comfortable weight. “Your life of quiet meditation and ascetic, monastic discipline is ending.”
“I have a shoulder again?” He asked, as everything went pale gray, then white.
“What comes next may be… uncomfortable, but it is necessary, brother. Please endure this crucible with the dignity you have displayed so far. We’re all very impressed with how deliciously conflicted and repressed you’ve become.” Ward’s voice whispered as Hermit departed for somewhere else. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
#
With a sudden lurch and a brief sensation of free fall, Hermit splashed down into a warm, bubbling hotspring pool. He cleared his eyes in a panic, before the tall, young human man realized he was alone. Alone in a beautiful and deeply soothing garden, surrounded by a thicket of softly whispering bamboo.
He slowly took a complete turn, looking for any sign of an exit from the mysterious spring. Like the goblin king’s pool, it invigorated, soothed and energized his body, just by soaking in the swirling waters.
With no path visible, he dove under to see if there was a passage under the surface.
‘No one would, or could restrain you, in this place.’ A soft voice whispered in his mind.
“Please show yourself… The whole ‘hidden observer, whispering in my mind’ thing is getting worn a little thin.” He spoke calmly and in a low volume, just loud enough to be heard within the little garden bath.
“I can’t really do that right now, but relax, we just need to talk for a moment.” The voice was audible, and warmly tranquil.
“Aclintherios has touched your soul at last, this creates an inflection point, a crossroads in the soul… Will you remain a man, trapped in the body of a monster?” The voice had no apparent gender, nor any emotion beyond a comfortable, soothing familiarity.
“Will you become fully a child of Aclintherios? Or would you become, once more a human… Or perhaps some new thing, as yet undreamt by gods or mortals?” A soft giggle resounded among the stones and bamboo, stirring the slow drifting steam. “These paths and others are waiting, out there, beyond this thicket and spring.”
“And what must I do to escape this ‘crucible’, you strange beings have set for me?” He asked, not ungently.
“I have duties and goals of my own to attend to, whatever your cabal’s plans may be for me.” Something urged him to remain calm and assured him from deep within that he was in no danger in this place.
“Oh, a ‘cabal’... that sounds very good, I’ll use that, going forward.” The being chuckled warmly and with a hint of self deprecating mirth. “I am very pleased with your progress, but time grows short. It is the season of change…” The voice gained a sense of urgency, expectancy and… eagerness.
“When the time is ripe, you must break your egg sack and spin a thread into the winds of fate, wherever they may carry you.” The unknown speaker sighed wistfully.
“But first, you must return home. Arachnophobia is stirring and restless, restless and hungry. Return to the world where this body was formed around you, if you seek the path forward…”
“I have no desire to be dungeon lord of that place.” He answered coldly. “It holds few memories worth revisiting and even fewer charms to encourage my return.”
“Fate spins and weaves as she will, but remember this: We… all of us are the woof and warp of the design… and the loom, the weaver and everything that came before and will follow after.” The invisible voice sighed.
“I hold for you… and all the myriad ephemeral lights of life, nothing but hope and endless opportunities, in the fullness of time.”
“And who are you, who will not reveal your face or speak your name?” Hermit asked, tiring of the game.
“Face? I have none. Name? No… Though the few who have spoken to me and survived the experience call me Devourer of Souls… I mislike that, it is deeply inaccurate, and entirely too spooky.” A slow, silent sigh drifted across… Everything.
“I have, as yet, in all the endless gulfs of time and existence, but one worshipper. Only one mortal follower in all creation, since the beginning. Find that one who I have seen and blessed with my touch.”
A soft laugh whispered across the world, stirring the stars themselves to wheel and spin in a joyous dance.
“Seek him if you would know more, seek him and his disciples, if you would know me more fully… and find your own path, my child.”
The stars continued to spin, until he realized that he was spinning, swirling and spiraling into the center of the pool, sucked down and flushed back into his nest above the cozy, busy goblin home.
He stirred among the carefully woven threads and bumped into something warm. “Hmm?” A tiny, pink haired goblin girl mumbled sleepily. She was curled up beside his furry abdomen and smiling sweetly in her sleep, wrapped in a coverlet of his web.
“Hold still. Chelsea’s still tired and her babyhole still hurts… a little.” She mumbled, pushing her battered lady bits back against his soft furred abdomen seeking warmth and comfort.
“Floofy…” She muttered as she fell back into slumber, smiling and cooing in her tender and idyllic dreams, dragging Hermit back to sleep with her, whether he wished it or not.
#
Hermit opened his eyes to rushing wind and a wild, uncontrolled sense of motion and flight. Once more, he was in a humanoid form, with little Chelsea seated on his lap, as they were both strapped into some kind of moving contraption...
Giggling madly, Chelsea threw her hands in the air, as whatever they were trapped in dipped into a sudden and terrifying plummet toward the distant ground.
“Wheeee!” She wailed in mingled excitement, terror and joy.
Their strange conveyance was on an iron railed track, spaced by worn, weather worn ties and supported on a rickety wooden structure that looked like a gentle breeze could send it tumbling down.
“Chelsea…” Hermit gasped, when he dragged a little air back into his lungs.
“What the hell?!” He gasped, as the strange, iron wheeled cart swooped back up toward the sky, following the mad, looping track.
“Hold on, here comes the fun part!” The little goblin lass ignored his questions entirely, wide eyed and lost in her insane dream. She reached out both hands, smiling ecstatically and caressing the oddly textured sides of their long, green coaster car.
As they slowly chugged and clanked up the long, steep incline, the weird log ride began to slow, until Chelsea increased the vigor with which she petted and stroked the conveyance, treating it as a deeply beloved pet and urging it onward.
At the peak of the ascent, Chelsea once more threw her hands up and squealed with delight as they plunged, headed for a grisly death, far below against a rolling green hillside, terribly far below.
“Hold on! This is the best part!” She squealed, as the log ride fell toward the verdant folds of the valley at terminal velocity.
Too late, Hermit realized the awful truth… The long, green log ride car was thick and veiny, highlighted with shades of purple and fleshy pink.
They fell downward, following the track, headed for a section of track that was closed off by two rounded, grassy folds in the plumply mounded valley.
With a splashy and moistly shocking impact, they plunged through together and into a warm, wet, welcoming darkness.
Hermit wailed in horror and despair as he was dragged unwillingly into the tiny goblin’s joyous and heartfelt dreams. He gasped and struggled, but There was no escape from Chelsea’s dream-park of endless green, goblin dick.
“Oh! Corndoggies! I want extra mayo on mine… and some cream filled churros too!” She giggled, dragging him along to the next stop on his nightmare date in Ghnashtopia.
“Don’t be shy, there’s plenty to share!” She cried merrily, with a dollop of mayo running down her chin, as she gobbled her highly suggestive, green corndoggie.
“I’m dead, this must be hell.” He whispered, from the depths of utter despair.
#