“Sure about this?” Bell asked him for the third time.

“Aye,” Gavin nodded and drew himself up. “I’m nae a child.”

“Okay,” Bell sighed, and Way Way lowered the quest board down for him.

There was only one quest left, and he put out his hand and claimed it, feeling the familiar rush of an adventure just starting to build. “Recover the Jewels, that’ll do me!” He grinned up at the pixie. “I’m away the noo.”

“Whoa there, you have to tell Slothy first.” Bell insisted.

“Ah, no!” Gavin protested. “She’ll just be worryin’, ya ken?” His shoulders slumped as he saw the stern look on the mad pixie. She wasn’t going to let him sneak away.

Damn!

“Fine, fine!” He muttered I’ll go tell ‘er noo,” He strode confidently towards the corridor.

“Way Way, don’t let him out until he has,” Bell said sweetly behind him.

“Wha’ ya think I was gunnae sneak away?” Gavin protested. “I’m a grown man, nae some wean!”

Bell just crossed her arms and smiled.

Bollocks!

Not that he was going to sneak off, not at all. It wasn’t like that. He just didn’t want the great beastie to worry after him. The thing acted like his Ma half the time.

“She’s no me Ma,” Gaving grumbled as he stomped along the corridor to Slothy’s place. “No nearly enough hair for a start!”

Climbing the stairs to the top deck, Gavin kept up a constant grumbling litany of complaints. It wasn’t easy being a dwarf.

“I’m away, aye!” He said again, backing towards the opening to the little cave Way Way had built from Slothy, “You just have a good nap, aye?” He turned to run for it, only to feel one giant paw wrap around him, pulling him back into a furry hug. “Ach, man!” He struggled uselessly, “I’m no a bloody teddy bear!”

He got a huff of warm air over him and fumed silently as she finished her hug.

When she was finished, she put him down again, pushing his gear towards him and chuffing happily.

“I can go?” He grinned before remembering he wasn’t supposed to be asking permission. “I mean, of course, I’m going!” Gavin scrambled to gather his three axes and armor. No need for a pack, not with his snazzy new spacial storage bracers.

He was almost at the door when the warning huff made him stop.

“Wha?” He looked around and saw two more things being pushed towards him.

“No! I’m nae a babysitter!” He backed up, but it was too late. “Aw, no man!” He tried to run, but the two things rolled up next to him and unfolded. “Back ya go now, shoo!” He pointed his finger angrily at the one on his left, but it just reached out a furry paw and took hold of his finger.

“Aw, sorry, little man? Gel?” Gavin started, but a growl sounded behind him. All three froze until it died away. Two sets of little eyes narrowed as they stared at Gavin.

He knew when he was beat.

“Fine! Ya know wha’? I was gonnae take ‘em anyway!” Gavin snapped grumpily. “Nothin’ says serious fucking adventurer than bringing their wee siblings with ‘em!” He grumped as he stomped towards the exit. “Well, come on ya wee bastards, we’re away!”

The two fluff balls rolled after him. One insisted on taking his hand while the other leaped up and hung off his back like a backpack.

After awkwardly getting into the lovely new armor the boss man made for him while the two fluff balls stared at him without blinking, Gavin strapped on his weapons and was finally allowed out of the Waystation.

Not that he was ever trapped, not at all! He told the beastie cause it was the right thing to do. He could have gotten out without doing it! No bother.

That weird King was waiting to meet them, as he had been for all the others. That made it official. He was away on a quest.

“Master Dwarf, welcome!” The giant of a man boomed with a huge smile. “I have your bard ready and waiting for you a few miles up that way.” He pointed one giant finger back the way the Waystation had come. “Best of luck to you!”

With that, he turned and walked away.

“He’s a creepy big bastard,” Gavin said to himself as he turned to look back along the road. He did a few deep knee bends to get ready, only to notice the furball on his back had dropped off and was eating a lump of snow. “Eh! Stop that, ya daftie!”

Gavin blinked as the fur turned pure white, like the snow. The fluffball turned a big, smug smile on the dwarf that was slightly spoiled by it being slightly cross-eyed. The overall effect was still smug, though.

“Oh ho, smart arse, are ya?” Gavin said, “Well, I guess I’ll just call ya Daftie from now on, aye?” He laughed, waiting for the look of outrage.

Instead, the little fluff ball just opened its giant mouth and yelled, “Daftie!”

“Gods below!” Gavin flinched. “Ye lot can talk?”

“Daftie!” It yelled again. “Daftie!”

“Ah, bawbags,” Gavin sighed, “That’ll get old fast.” He saw the other one opening its mouth and put up a stern finger. “Nae! Stop it!”

The thing deflated and looked like it was going to cry, its small eyes filling with tears while its brother or sister wandered in circles shouting its new word.

“Baws! Sorry, little wean, dunnae cry,” He smiled desperately.

“Baws!” It squeaked in his face. “Baws! Bawbag! Baws!”

“Away the fuck wit’ ya both,” Gavin fumed and strode off down the road as the pair ran and rolled in circles around him, each one squeaking or shouting their new words.

==========

Gavin heard the Bard playing as they approached a large tree that was growing next to the road. The leaves were long gone, but the dark wood contrasted against the snowy landscape as if someone had carved a tree shape out of the universe.

The dwarf had not heard the sound of a fiddle since he left the dwarf halls. It was far from popular amongst the other races. It almost made him homesick.

Almost.

There was nothing back there but pain for him. Growing up as the youngest of thirty children of the Clan Queen had been a harrowing experience even before she was deposed. Afterward, left behind by his family as they fled, he was an outcast. The only affection he got as a lad was a slightly gentler kick as he passed. Gavin had set out to recover a great treasure from the Lost Halls of the Masters to earn himself a place.

As he heard the strains of the fiddle floating to him through the crisp, cold air, Gavin knew in his heart he would never go back. Even if he became a great warrior or king.

Slothy was not exactly what he had imagined when he dreamt of a family all those cold nights, but he had to admit he liked the feeling of belonging.

If something went wrong on this quest and he never returned, he would die knowing that in a day, or two, a Giant Sloth Bear on the warpath would carve his killers apart.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Someone would miss him. Someone would care when he breathed his last.

And until then? Well, there was always a bone-aching hug waiting for him to get home.

So, for the first time in his life, Gavin heard the sound of a fiddle and felt a bit of warmth in his heart.

“Wotcha!” The woman playing the fiddle grinned down at Gavin as she slung her fiddle over her shoulder and leaped lightly to the ground. She had been sitting high up in the tree, the bare branches apparently no more of a bother to her than the cold was.

To say she was not exactly dressed for snow was an understatement. A short tartan skirt that only barely reached her knees flapped in the air as she dropped, and Gavin averted his eyes quickly. Her top was almost as bad, a dark red leather vest that barely fit, showing more of her pale grey skin than was quite needed.

She grinned as her bare feet landed in the deep snow alongside the road, tucking her long white hair behind one pointed ear.

“Hey! Are you the adventurer I’m supposed to be waiting for?” She grinned, a pair of sharp canines glinting in the sunlight.

“Uh,” Gavin said, “That’ll be us, aye.” He was trying to process the strange woman standing before him, then just shrugged and accepted things. Living in the Waystation made you nuts, or good at adapting to the strangeness.

“Aww,” She leaned down, showing enough cleavage to make Gavin blush crimson as she petted the little fluff ball that was still holding his hand.

“Bawbag!” It screeched in her face.

“Well, hello, little Bawbag,” She said, patting it gently on the top of the ball of fur that served as both body and head on the strange creatures. “I’m Lyra, the Half-Elven.” She winked at Gavin, renewing his blush. “Is that okay with you?”

“Uh, what?” Gavin stammered.

“Are you okay with me being a half-elf?” Lyra said again. “I know it bothers everyone.”

“Oh, uh, aye, lass,” Gavin said, finally pulling himself together. “Nae bother.”

“Great!” She said, clapping her hands once and bobbing a quick curtsy, “And what is your name?”

“Gavin, uh, of the Waystation,” He finished lamely.

“And your other friend?” Lyra pointed at the fluffball eating more snow.

“Daftie!” It screamed and resumed eating snow.

“Ah, fuck sake, Daftie!” Gavin yelled. “Stop that!” He rushed over and tried to coral the little thing away from the deeper drifts. “That cannae be good for ‘em,” He explained to Lyra.

“So, where are we headed?” Gavin asked the Bard.

“Deep into the forest, where unknown terrors lurk and some dark thing has captured the crown jewels,” Lyra said in a lilting voice.

“Bawbag!” Bawbag screeched and started pulling Gavin off the road and into the forest.

“Ya dunnae know the way, ya crazy little bugger!” Gavin pulled it back, where it immediately burst into tears.

“It was actually headed the right way,” Lyra offered.

“Oh, well. On ya go, then,” Gavin huffed, and the crying immediately stopped as the little creature dragged on his arm again.

“What are they?” Lyra asked Gavin as they headed beneath the trees.

“Nae idea, lass,” Gavin sighed. “No one tells me anything, ya ken?”

“Aren’t they friends of yours, or pets, or something?” She asked as she stepped lightly through the forest as if born to it.

“Sort like me brothers and sisters; I cannae tell which, though.” Gavin sighed.

“You don’t look furry,” Lyra poked his hair and tried to peer down the top of his armor.

“It’s a long story, aye?” Gavin said, trying to step away without being obvious about it.

Daftie ran ahead, and Bawbag scampered after him, letting go of Gavin’s hand.

“Oy, get back here!” Gavin ran after them, pushing through a clump of bushes after the two idiots before they got eaten.

“Come back, ya little-” Gavin cut off as he saw the two furballs staring up at the massive beetle they had interrupted mid-meal.

“Oh, dear,” Lyra said, sliding through the bushes without a sound. “That’s a big one.”

Gavin identified the insect, hoping it was friendly.

Corpse Beetle Lvl 24

Known to devour the dead, these insects are not considered dangerous until they grow larger than a cat.

When larger, they have been known to hunt and kill children and lone travelers.

“Away!” Gavin yelled, drawing his axe and extending it to its full length. “You get away from the weans!” He ran forward, causing the beetle to scuttle back a few steps.

Its compound eyes darted around, and its long feelers twitched.

Assessing.

“Away the now!” Gavin said again, waving his axe over his head threateningly.

The beetle blurred forward, and he was sent flying backward.

A growling noise caused everyone to pause. It was coming from the Bundle-Mores.

The Beetle ignored them and charged at Gavin again, only to let out a screech and jerk back, two legs missing.

Loud crunching noises came from the little mounds of fluff as they chewed, the legs waving in the air as they were rapidly consumed.

“Wha’ the fuck?” Lyra gasped.

“Daftie! Bawbag!” Gavin yelled, climbing to his feet. “Let’s get the big bastard!”

The growling started again as Gavin charged in, his axe biting deeply into the back of the beetle as it tried to dodge the blow. Two furry balls rolled forward, attaching themselves to the shell, biting and tearing with their huge mouths.

The beetle let out a loud chitter, trying to run.

Gavin’s axe took off another leg and then finally landed a blow on the head, which fell from the carapace with a thud.

The silence was broken by the wet crunching noises as the two Tumble-More’s feasted.

“Oh, Gods,” Lyra looked green as the munching continued.

“Aye,” Gavin admitted. “They’re nae much for table manners, ya ken?” He patted Bawbag on the back of the ichor-splattered head as it swallowed the severed head whole.

Daftie let out a huge burp, splattering the nearby trees with misted ichor as it did so.

Lyra promptly turned away and threw up.

“Ah, go on!” Gavin said. “Is no that bad!”

Daftie began to shake a few minutes after the two of them had finished off the bug carcass. Gavin rushed over, but it seemed to be smiling and looking excited, so he sat back and waited.

He did get a healing potion and a few blood berries out of his bracer storage, just in case.

The shaking continued for a minute until the fur suddenly fluffed out, leaving Daftie completely still. The little creature doubled in size a second later and grew two more legs. They immediately ran around in circles, the previously slow speed now almost a blur.

When they finally stopped and flopped onto their back, panting as they rocked back and forth, their fur had gone jet black, just like the beetle’s carapace had been.

“You okay there?” Gavin asked.

“Daftie!” It yelled and immediately started to snore.

“I’ll take that as an aye,” Gavin said, going to check on their Bard.

“What are they?” She was wide-eyed. “Did you know they could do that?”

“The changing thing?” Gavin asked. “Nae idea, lass.”

“Why aren’t you freaked out?” She whispered to him.

“Hah!” Gavin laughed. “This is sorta normal where I stay.”

==========

“You tried to get me killed,” Bert said simply as he stared at the smiling King.

“Oh, you were never in any real danger!” Dagon laughed.

“Not yet!” Bert insisted. “Now I have to go tell Bell I went to a brothel!”

Dagon roared with laughter.

“Low blow, Dagon,” Bert growled. “Low blow!”

“You’ll get over it,” Dagon winked. “Now, on to the rewards!” He clapped his hands together gleefully and then tossed the orb to Bert, wrapped in a deed as with all the others, and then he did something that hurt to look at. It appeared similar to seeing someone reach through a mote of dust that was also the size of a small universe.

Even Bert’s head hurt after seeing it.

“I’m sure you can find a use for this!” Dagon grinned, tossing over another orb. This one was smooth, almost glassy, and mist swirled inside it.

Bert immediately identified it, not trusting the King any more than he understood him.

Nascent Dungeon Core

Awaiting imprint…

Unique Item

“I don’t suppose you are planning to tell me how I use this?” Bert sighed.

“Now, where is the fun in that?” Dagon roared with laughter again.

“Saw that coming,” Bert muttered. “So, you said you would put aside the games and tell me what this is all about once I was done?”

“Did I?” Dagon smiled innocently. “That doesn’t seem like me. Are you sure?”

Bert just stared at the thing pretending to be a king.

“Fine, fine,” Dagon waved Bert to a chair. “Do you remember the gods of this world, little lord?”

“Kind of hard to forget,” Bert admitted. “I’m not their greatest fan.”

“Met a few other things in your time, though,” Dagon said, “This I know. Yes.” He leaned forward and stage whispered. “A moth and a woman with red hair? Yes.” He chuckled darkly. “But also someone else. Something else. One who made the redhead go away. Yes. I know this, yes.”

“Okay, and so?” Bert prompted, not bothering to deny what the thing already knew.

“So, why should they get all the fun?” Dagon laughed. “War is coming to this world, little lord. And where there is war, there is me!”

Bert felt his blood run cold.

“War?” Bert asked, expecting no answer but asking anyway. “What kind of war?”

“The kind that will decide if this world lives or dies,” Dagon said with a sad smile. “So I am here, and I will save what is worth saving. But this time, I do more. Yes! This time, I put a thumb on the scales, little lord. Yes! A big thumb I have.”

Bert drummed his fingers on the King’s desk.

“What can I do?” He asked finally.

“You little lord?” Dagon shook his head. “Not much. But you, as a BIG lord? Well, we will see. Yes.” He winked, and Bert found himself standing in the snow outside the Waystation.

“What the fuck!” Bell screamed in rage.

Looking down, Bert saw he was wearing a T-shirt, a cotton one like they had on Earth and emblazoned across it were the words ‘I got laid at the Lost Temple!’

“Fuck sake!” Bert growled as the King's laughter echoed in the air, and a pixie screamed at him.