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Description

Vardik had seen any number of strange things over the course of his many years, but he could think of none that bested the scene unfolding before him now. Dunira all but frothed at the mouth as she repeatedly jabbed her index finger in what passed for the monstrosity’s face. In response, the hulking thing giggled and extended one of its many tentacles in an effort to play with the warrior doe’s darting fingertip.

Within the beast’s dimly translucent mass hung the blurry shapes of a small cook pot, a tankard, a brass candlestick, several utensils, a smattering of coins, and Dunira’s sword. At one time or another, all had been hurled at the creature either in fright or as appeasement. All except the sword, which had been wielded against it with murderous intent. Like the other objects, it had been swiftly absorbed into the creature’s gelatinous body.

“Return my blade!” Dunira shouted. “Return it or by all the gods, I shall clout you sore!” Apparently delighted, the misshapen creature only redoubled its giggling.

“I dinnae think yer blows’ll change its mind, lass,” Vardik remarked. “Ye’ve already smote it with yer steel.” He was going to add “to no avail,” but on apprehending the doe’s mounting rage, he thought the better of it.

Predictably, Dunira began to pound the creature with her fists, causing its blubbery flesh to jiggle in concert with its warbling laughter. Vardik could not help himself and he too began to chuckle with the ridiculousness of it all.

In sooth, the thing before them was harmless. The villagers had said as much. Its only sins were that it possessed a fearful appearance, was mildly bothersome, and would not relinquish objects that were thrown at it. Even so, Dunira had taken the villagers’ complaints as her commission to slay. She had set out to destroy the pest and now here they were.

At last Dunira exhausted herself and had to stop. The creature, seemingly bored, began to drift away. “Come Vardik,” she puffed, “let us follow the beast back to its hoard… I’ll get my sword back and mayhap some treasure for my trouble!” The Dwarven warrior said nothing, but intrigued by the idea of discovering a bit of lost gold, he fell in step behind his ward.

After a time, the creature led them to the shores of a dark and deep-looking lake. It then proceeded directly into the water, making for whatever subaqueous lair it called home. Vardik struggled to hold back his laughter. “Nooo! ‘Tis not just!” Dunira squealed as the creature —and her sword—disappeared beneath the wind-raked wavelets.

Tears of frustration stood in Dunira’s eyes. Vardik considered how he would feel if it were his hammer and not her sword that had just vanished. Reaching up, he patted Dunira softly on the back. “Fret not, lass; we’ll get ye another blade.”

“’Tis not just,” Dunira repeated. Keeping his own counsel, the Dwarf remained silent.

Description

Vardik had seen any number of strange things over the course of his many years, but he could think of none that bested the scene unfolding before him now. Dunira all but frothed at the mouth as she repeatedly jabbed her index finger in what passed for the monstrosity’s face. In response, the hulking thing giggled and extended one of its many tentacles in an effort to play with the warrior doe’s darting fingertip.

Within the beast’s dimly translucent mass hung the blurry shapes of a small cook pot, a tankard, a brass candlestick, several utensils, a smattering of coins, and Dunira’s sword. At one time or another, all had been hurled at the creature either in fright or as appeasement. All except the sword, which had been wielded against it with murderous intent. Like the other objects, it had been swiftly absorbed into the creature’s gelatinous body.

“Return my blade!” Dunira shouted. “Return it or by all the gods, I shall clout you sore!” Apparently delighted, the misshapen creature only redoubled its giggling.

“I dinnae think yer blows’ll change its mind, lass,” Vardik remarked. “Ye’ve already smote it with yer steel.” He was going to add “to no avail,” but on apprehending the doe’s mounting rage, he thought the better of it.

Predictably, Dunira began to pound the creature with her fists, causing its blubbery flesh to jiggle in concert with its warbling laughter. Vardik could not help himself and he too began to chuckle with the ridiculousness of it all.

In sooth, the thing before them was harmless. The villagers had said as much. Its only sins were that it possessed a fearful appearance, was mildly bothersome, and would not relinquish objects that were thrown at it. Even so, Dunira had taken the villagers’ complaints as her commission to slay. She had set out to destroy the pest and now here they were.

At last Dunira exhausted herself and had to stop. The creature, seemingly bored, began to drift away. “Come Vardik,” she puffed, “let us follow the beast back to its hoard… I’ll get my sword back and mayhap some treasure for my trouble!” The Dwarven warrior said nothing, but intrigued by the idea of discovering a bit of lost gold, he fell in step behind his ward.

After a time, the creature led them to the shores of a dark and deep-looking lake. It then proceeded directly into the water, making for whatever subaqueous lair it called home. Vardik struggled to hold back his laughter. “Nooo! ‘Tis not just!” Dunira squealed as the creature —and her sword—disappeared beneath the wind-raked wavelets.

Tears of frustration stood in Dunira’s eyes. Vardik considered how he would feel if it were his hammer and not her sword that had just vanished. Reaching up, he patted Dunira softly on the back. “Fret not, lass; we’ll get ye another blade.”

“’Tis not just,” Dunira repeated. Keeping his own counsel, the Dwarf remained silent.