The interior of the cave was not what Chance had expected; he had visited some, in the past, when he was young and his family had still all been together. His parents had taken them all off on a holiday and part of that trip had seen them visit a few caves. They were cold, damp, dark and required far too much climbing from what he could recall. He hadn’t really wanted to go on that holiday in the first place and resented being dragged off to visit places he didn’t want to see, so he didn’t exactly have the fondest memories of the trip. It had also been the last holiday that they had all taken together, as not long after that his parent had separated.
Azval Stalvaq, or to give it its true name, The Cave of the Forest Rest, more or less, was nothing like those caves that he had once visited. For starters, this one was alive.
At one stage a portion of the roof towards the entrance had collapsed and now sunlight drifted down through it. A canopy of branches and trees stretched out over the opening, and the light was a soft green, warm and inviting. Beneath the opening was a large pool of clear water; it came bubbling up from out of the ground, filling the pool and feeding the stream that ran out of the cave into the forest. Green grass grew around the pool, and trees and shrubs and ferns were in abundance as well, a veritable oasis fed by the waters and sunlight. Only further back into the cave, beyond the pool, where the cave roof remained intact, did the cave darken and the wild growth fade away.
The cave was also quite large, and spacious, even despite the oasis around the pool. It was, well, nice he had to admit. Not exactly his first choice of a place to live, but better than being out in the forest. He could easily see the cave converted into a luxury getaway, with the pool turned into a spa and cabins built among the trees, with room to spare. String up some lighting around the place as well and you could make a mint for those who were into their glamping, wanting to experience nature the easy way.
Despite the dark and gloom further back into the cave, he was surprised to find that his eyes could see reasonably well back there, cutting through the dark. One thing that he did notice were blackened scars across the walls, the smoky ceiling, burnt out stumps of what had once been growth and charcoal remnants scattered around. There had been fire back there, and by the smell of ash in the air, not so long before either.
“This Nezegur, they lived in here didn’t they?”
“Yes, indeed,” confirmed The Counsellor.
“And let me guess, they were a dragon weren’t they?” It stood to reason. Dragons liked caves and they liked fire as well; even if he knew little about the conventions of the genre, dragons were well enough know to transcend it.
“He did so happen to be one, before he was defeated, yes.”
If there was one thing that everyone knew about dragons was that they by tradition slept on a pile of treasure. Except he couldn't see any sign of one.
“What happened to his treasure then?”
“The heroes that defeated the dragon took it all with them, as a reward,” The Counsellor informed him.
Chance nodded glumly. “Of course they did. Why would I have expected anything else.”
So not only was he a short ugly treehugger, he wasn’t rich anymore either. Things just kept on getting better and better.
“Enjoy your new home,” The Counsellor said.
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Chance responded, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “It is just what I have always wanted, to be dumped in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to my name but the clothes I am wearing and no idea what I am to do. I’m living the dream.”
“See, you are sounding like a true dwarf already,” The Counsellor remarked, smiling as he did. Chance just glared at him.
Somewhere off in the distance, echoing through the forests beyond the cave came the sound of howling. As Chance listened to the sound, and shivered at it as it did not sound friendly, words spoke in his mind once more.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Knowledge Check
Affinity: Nature
Species: Wolf, Grey
Wolves. Of course there were wolves. Big, bad wolves. Tutorial zones needed something for new players to deal with. It looked like he’d found out what his would be.
“It looks like I will be needing a weapon of some kind. I don’t suppose I get to start with anything but the clothes I’m wearing?”
“What would you need a weapon for?”
“To deal with the wolves, of course.”
The Counsellor gave him a look, a long look. “Are you forgetting who you are? A druid, not a butcher of wildlife. Besides which, wolves are not a danger to men and are much maligned. No, you aren’t meant to be killing them.”
“What am I meant to be doing then?” Chance asked.
“Check the parchment I gave you. It will get you started on your path and guide you way. Now I must depart.”
“Just like that? No help, no advice, no nothing?”
The Counsellor considered it. “It is advice you want? Well, don’t die. I’m being serious about that. Now, good luck on your journey, adventurer.”
With that The Counsellor simply vanished, disappearing from view in an instant and leaving no trace behind of his existence, leaving Chance by himself.
“Oh, thank you very much for nothing,” he grumbled and kicking at a stone resting on the cave’s floor. It went skittering away to splash into the pool. “Crathag’s Girthy Waist!”
It was the second time an unknown epitaph had spilt from his lips, coming from who knew where exactly. He had never heard the words before and yet they had come from him, somehow. And who exactly was this Crathag anyway? No sooner had he considered it than the word were back in his head, lecturing him.
Knowledge Check
Affinity: Lore
Religion; Dwarven
Crathag the Gilded, Crathag the Blessed, Crathag of the Overflowing Keg; Known by many names, Crathag is the most prominent of the Ancestor-Gods of the Zhurazhi Pantheon. Unusual in that he has no set role in the Pantheon, he is known as a boisterous, hard-drinking, hard-fighting figure who turns his hand to whatever is needed of him.
Great, another pop-up. He had to figure out a way to disable those. With so much that he didn’t know about the place he was in, there were bound to be a few more of them coming his way.
Chance took a quick look around the cave, Azval Stalvaq, stomping around it. He was slowly getting acclimated to the new body with all of its wrong measurements, getting used to the way that it moved, at least while walking. He found himself running a hand through his bushy beard as he walked, and scowled when he realised what he was doing. It would have to come off. The beard was too thick, too itchy.
He stopped when his steps reached the pool, taking a look into it. There were fish in there, swimming about, large shoals of them, easily spotted in the clear waters. Towards the centre, the pool sunk away to gloomy depths that he couldn’t see into.
Knowledge Check
Affinity: Nature
Water: Uses unknown
“Oh for crying out loud,” he growled. “It is water! You drink it! See?” He knelt down beside the pool, scooping up a handful of water and drank it.
Knowledge Check
Affinity: Nature
Water: Drinking, other uses unknown
He sighed loudly. The messages were going to get very old very fast if he had to work out every single thing by trial and error. There had to be a better way.
The water itself had an unusual taste to it. It was cool and fresh and almost sweet as well; the after effect of it gave him something of a buzz, a burst of energy. It obviously was not just simple water.
“A pool that also functions as an energy drink. Huh, who would have though it.”
Trying hard not to look too closely at anything else in the cave least it trigger the annoying pop ups again, Chance made his way around the pool and headed back outside gain, this time on the other side of the stream.
The sun shone bright down upon the clearing before the cave entrance, and there was someone - or something - there waiting. Not The Counsellor. It was a short creature, even shorter than he was by a fair margin, and that was saying a lot given the lack of height his new body had. In appearance it looked something like a bipedal lizard crossed with a dog, scaly and with great big eyes. The scales were bronze and green, blending together. Standing there, in the glade, it had been looking up at the cave entrance was a look of awe and reverence.
On spotting Chance stomping out, it gave a startled yip and fell down on the ground, bowing and grovelling before him, forehead pressed to the ground.
“Oh Great Master,” it cried out, voice in part muffled by being face down, “You have returned.”