CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

A towering mound of dirt enclosed a deep hole. Within, the dwarf raised and slammed his pickaxe with purple arms, sleeves slacking. ‘DRILL’ technique employed, the sharp iron shattered apart rock and, with such intense motions, thrust earth into the air. He dug through countless gained levels until arriving at stone; his guess in the cliffs was wrong. But he regardless brought the pick down as hard as he had all day beneath the beating sun. The dwarf shattered his way into a hall not some distance far from the dungeon of inanimate bones. He took note of this and glanced upwards. But the shade in his arms deemed too noticeable, the dwarf opted for a walk to the front entrance. Outside he whistled. The arachnid arrived having skittered down the steep cliff face to its master. He felt a pang of regret at its lack of name, as all his spiders were. Perhaps after, he conceded.

At the top of the dug hill the dwarf resurveyed his surroundings with keen interest. He then marched to the rim, looked down and fell forward.

“LOADING... LOADED.”

And just after the message of a thirty-ninth level in ‘MINING’, the dwarf dug into the blue invested cavern of the December Frost. Arms as purple as in his last life, he scoot himself against a sloped wall of rock and dormant vines. Much light poured through the massive opening in the stalactite infested ceiling, the Frost beneath a perhaps yet seen blazing ball in the sky and it, the Frost, shrieked. Its great petals wilted and deflated. In the center of the Frost was solidified nectar--atop, two bound bodies and a hysterical bulb. It, thin stalk, swung rapidly in obvious pain but, unlike the rest of the plant, did not seem to decay. But the dwarf had been warned: flesh and steel. He drew his knife and plunged with purple arm the point into the bulb. Its rapid motions at once ceased and, obliterated into dust, the vines round Patches and the chieftain loosened.

The dwarf collapsed backwards but otherwise retained consciousness. His arms, however, seemed particularly useless. He scoot himself and managed over to the prone bandits: neither stirred. But he bent and confirmed consciousness. And with a seeming victory, the dwarf, strained, whistled for his spider. Eight legs crawled fast down rock adorned in orange fauna, the next stage of the December Frost, observed the dwarf. And back soon at the peak of the mound, the dwarf after landed with a snap beside slumbering bodies.

“LOADING... LOADED.”

Only managing level thirty-six in comparison, the dwarf wiped the sweat from his brow and arose out from the somewhat penetrated cliff, setting sun in the distance. He went over and onto the patient spider beside and the two made for the plains.

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SAVE YOUR PROGRESS?”

Out of respect for Caltraz, the dwarf would destroy the December Frost. But he would not put himself to any rush, said bandit secure in silk, his peers, in a sense, also secure. Having spent some time recovering from the cold hue in his legs, the dwarf could not envision sacrificing ability for lowlives--this thought more with respect to leader and single eyed pawn. But, gazing upon the still form of Caltraz, eyes still aglow with the life of another, the dwarf frowned. Perhaps it would be better not to ‘SAVE’.

The next day, the dwarf and Mimicule--the name decided for the comparatively stout and red spotted spider--returned to the dig site at dawn. He took up the iron tool from the ground and sheathed it behind obi, the dwarf descending with limbs beneath blue.

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 37”

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 38”

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 39”

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 40”

But the dwarf yet penetrated the December Frost’s lair. The day’s end saw the dwarf returning again to the chapel and setting off once more while the moon lowered into the sea. And at the peak of the sun and the level of forty-three acquired, the dwarf fell onto his rump between stalagmites. Fissure made, much light poured onto the Frost. But the ceiling had not collapsed in quite the same way as it once had, and so only a portion of the writhing blue beast singed. Vines emerged and took hold of the dwarf, shooting him across the partial lit expanse and head first into a slope.

“LOADING... LOADED.”

The dwarf awoke in the chapel of the plains with several blinks before registering his death. It had been so long since being killed the dwarf forgot it was not solely his hand that brought about ‘LOADING’. The idea of redigging three levels a second time so soon displeased the dwarf and he hesitated to mount Mimicule. But relenting to its saddle, the dwarf took them to the cliff face. He continued past the entrance of the dungeon and on towards sand, and soon tarsi were upon dunes. Not much further lay the shore; in contrast, the city of Nasteze shrunk.

At the edge of water the dwarf disembarked and walked cautiously towards, geta stepped out from, forgotten beads his sole accessory. From dry to wet sand he tread, salty breezes tingling his face and toying with his beard. He hit the shore and stood in warmth. The sea swept past his legs with dampened edges before receding, and the dwarf stood statue at the anticipation of repeating. His body knew rivers and lakes. The sensation that traveled throughout him was other worldly. WIth slow movements he returned to the spider, loosening his obi and letting tools drop to dunes. He threw his discarded clothes atop the arachnid and returned to the sea, dashing. No hesitation, he rushed the rushing waves and immersed himself fully.

“SWIMMING SKILL XP GAINED”

“SWIMMING SKILL INCREASED TO 2”

Message seen from below the surface of water, the dwarf burst triumphantly. There was something somewhat awkward about physically floating with less stature. He’d never been an expert swimmer, but it no doubt helped to propel forward with longer legs. These observations kept the dwarf from venturing too far out, his limit the extending of his toes on submerged sand. His eyes stung, but he didn’t care. The dwarf dove again to new levels.

The sun melted in a red sky and the dwarf had yet left the beach. Breaks were taken. As the dwarf would sit on sand he’d gaze at the far horizon beyond the island. Out there no shadow loomed--it was only blue, then purple, until blood. Each break lowered the ball in the sky his great weapon against the December Frost. But the dwarf bore its curse: his skin felt the sky. He fell onto sand beard pointed towards the peeking stars. The warm swet heat kept the water to temperature, the dwarf’s soles determined. He thought over suicide and wondered if the act could be trivialized further over sunburning. The rosary was cold on his chest.

“LOADING... LOADED.”

It had been so painful, the dwarf mused.

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 41”

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 42”

“MINING SKILL INCREASED TO 43”

At the last announcement the dwarf broke through the earth and into the lair of the December Frost. Light came and singed petals but no fuller than the dwarf’s previous attempt. Determined, the dwarf dashed in a semi-circle and whistled. From the wide fissure above came a snorting and huffing and down descended Waspig, the dwarf mounting his treasured companion and directing it forward.

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 42”

Vines struck the air and ripped through sound, the dwarf’s ears useless. For the beast guided by scent, Waspig buzzed and fluttered between attacks and atop a peeling leaf. The dwarf hopped over and slid down into the cage of bandits and, knife drawn, struck the terrified bulb between them. It shrieked and dissipated to dust. The petals rotted and slumped forwards, and all vines dropped. Only the faintest blue remained in the foliage spawned as a result of the Frost. Its captives were then, one at a time, slung over Waspig and commanded away. It was some minor struggle with the pigsect--the dwarf had attempted a training session a ‘SAVE’ previous involving bags of hay, but the actual humans unnerved the wary creature. This did not bother the dwarf; the moment was relished.

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 43”

“ANIMAL HUSBANDRY INCREASED TO 44”

A cart left at the ruins’ entrance saddled to Mimicule, the spider chittered happily at its master’s presence, too unsure of its payload. Together the three traveled the road back towards the bandits’ cave where the dwarf unceremoniously dumped the contents of the cart. It brought back to the chapel--a spoil of war--the dwarf thrust double doors open to the sight of a shocked bound Caltraz.