But for a Slime

* * *

Coushar cowered, silent and empty. Its streets were empty and all of Coushar was silent. The poor cowered in their homes with fathers shivering fearfully yet protectively at their doors while mothers shushed children and hid with them anywhere they could in their home. The wealthier clamored at the gates to the clan and quickly entered, seeking out protective bunkers and soon the gates themselves quieted and the town of Coushar echoed an eerie silence. Only twelve people moved in the entire city. Four people held the defense at the intermediate dungeon with shields held against the entrance while stabbing as they could between their shields. Another four defended the beginner dungeon a bit easier. The final four fought with greater skill at the clan dungeon. The four at the advanced dungeon held the line as well, but shifted in uncertainty as the waited in uncomfortable tension. Everyone else held behind the defenders, tensely waiting and rarely firing some range magic attack. Otherwise, the city waited in silent tension, almost seeming empty of life.

Coushar buzzed, loud overwhelming activity washed across the city like a tidal wave. Factions all across the city shuddered in Brownian motion as they began making moves and developing plans. Almost all prepared to protect themselves against their rivals while many enacted long prepared plans against their rivals. Some simply dug in, pulling in everything and replacing their welcoming decorations with deadly defenses. Many reached out for friends or hopeful allies while others massively increased their intelligence procurement efforts, sending out everyone and everything they had. Some resigned themselves to the soon coming apocalypse. The city boiled over, factions everywhere riled up. The mighty had fallen with change soon to come, and predator and scavenger gathered to feast on the spoils.

Far away at the center of power for the Aelthron Cradle, a city that never slept continued its busy work. Little affected the great city as all were beholden to it. Most often, news and greatness came from the city, not to it. Today proved different as the priest sector of the city whirred with wild excitement. A cure for the breeder curse had been found and the academics of the temples were abuzz in wild speculation. Some few sought out victims of the curse, verifying its effectiveness. A very small completely unrelated group found the news fascinating and began speculating on possibilities. The last, much larger group, wept in bitter melancholy tinged with relief at a hope offered too late. Only one, a father deeply loving of his wife and their only daughter found the news personally welcoming.

Buried in the mountains north of the capital city, the great dwarven clans burrowed its depths for wealth of metal, stone, and crystal. A father in despair huddled outside the door of his daughter’s room, now turned more cell than room. He’d spent the previous month wildly searching for a cure spending wealth he no longer had. It had dissipated like water in a vacuum, evaporated. Now, he spent most his days laid at the foot of his daughter’s door wallowing in despair that had quickly become swamped by prodigious amounts of alcohol. His home was silent, but for the brief moments of his daughter wailing in pain or him bellowing in rage.

When his brother invaded his home with excitement and four priests, the father had been deep in his cups and raged. His brother calmed him but when he claimed to have a cure for the breeder’s curse, his rage returned tenfold. His brother had always been incompetent, in the worst and most inconvenient of ways possible. The fight had continued but he'd been so drunk that his brother had easily subdued him and gestured the priests into his daughter’s room behind his back. He hadn’t even noticed, simply raging at his brother in a blind drunken stupor. He raged at his brother’s incompetence, his brother’s folly, his own inability, his failure to protect his daughter, his failure to save his wife, his loss, his loneliness, and the cruel nature of the world. He raged without stop until the soft arms of his daughter wrapped around behind him and her cries to her ‘bapa’ echoed in his ears and he turned to find a miracle; his daughter returned.

His brother and the priests left moments later, the empty silent home now echoing with sobs of disbelieving joy and relief while father and daughter held each other in an empty home bereft of almost everything. However, the father cared very little for the loss for not one of his possessions were more precious than his own family.

It wasn’t until the next day that the brother told the father of a strange slave girl who’d sought him out and advised him where he could find the cure. The father spent several weeks looking for the girl to thank her, deep in the depths of the great capital of the Aelthron cradle. He refused to give up his quest to find and thank to strange woman would found his drunk uncle and spoke of such strange things to a stranger.

* * *

Gunlan Mounsenker Galgandar, Second in Line for Patriarch, Lightning Lord, Shield of Coushar, and Guardian of the People sat on his chair and waited patiently, proud of his ability to wait.

“Where is the spymaster?”

“He still has not returned, Patriarch.”

Gunlan frowned and swatted out with a hand, his mana spitting out to punch into the servant who’d crossed the line.

“Maintain propriety!”

“Forgive me, Second in Line for Patriarch,” the servant struggled to stand before bowing poorly. Gunlan withheld his tsk and promised to properly train the servant later.

Silence fell in the meadow once again for some time before he asked once again. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d asked, but the spymaster still had not returned. His anger grew but he still kept his patience, only wasting his energy on correcting any servant’s poor behavior or actions. The day fled and Gunlan frowned in frustration. The spymaster still had not returned.

Another day passed and he soon found it difficult to withhold his anger. Sleep helped him calm his anger and recover his patience, but his patience was running thin. When the spymaster returned in the morning, his anger almost erupted until the spymaster tossed the body of the runner upon the ground before him.

“The fool must have fallen to a monster. I had sent news of the dungeons containment, but when you did not reply…”

Gunlan’s anger quickly cooled when he’d heard the dungeons had been contained, and his face twisted with glee, dismissing the spymaster from his thoughts.

“Yes!” Gunlan hissed with a sinister smile of joy, “Let us return! Time to see my wonderful mother.”

* * *

Toulnaria Galgandar, Matriarch of the Galgandar clan and Head of the city of Coushar stood watch before the clan dungeon as it broke. The monsters fled from its depths in a wild rush and her clansmen easily held the line. She stood there only for support as she spent the majority of her efforts on directing the efforts of the city in their defense. Her daughter stood by her side and the city held. The outer dungeons broke, and the city held. The advanced dungeon remained eerily silent, but the defenders held. The captain of the outer walls had proved competent and sent most of his soldiers to hold the line at the advanced dungeon and splitting a lesser group of green troops to defend the intermediate and beginner dungeons.

As the day continued, the Matriarch learned of more details from the various dungeons. The advanced dungeon had indeed broken, the cries and roars of beasts inside at the third floor could be heard. The eccentric had not revealed himself at all, but the reports of the advanced dungeon gave her hints.

“He usually delves the beginner dungeon, yes?”

Her daughter turned to her and blinked in surprise, “What?”

The Matriarch stifled her rebuttal, recognizing her own failure and clarified, “Your King usually delves the beginner, yes?”

Her daughter nodded, “Yes.”

The Matriarch frowned and turned back to her thoughts before finally making her decision. She turned to her next messenger.

“Send a clan messenger to the advanced dun… no. Send a clan messenger to each dungeon. Tell the advanced dungeon captain to release his wall guards. Send one third to the beginner’s dungeon and two thirds to the intermediate dungeon. Have the dungeon captain also send a quarter of his greenest troops to the intermediate dungeon to hold the line. Send ten clanners, hmm… have Allanar go with nine of his choosing. Tell the advanced dungeon captain he may recall his troops and wall guards if the break exits the dungeon. Have all three report every Great Bell or when the break floods the dungeon well.”

“Yes, Matriarch,” the messenger spoke then immediately turned away, already drawing mana to his lips to Whisper the Wind.

Gwenvaire stood beside her, silent. Ever learning but learning for a position she would no longer have. The Matriarch stifled her sigh at that and immediately began plans for who would become the next ruler of the clan.

The reports came every Great Bell and for the next three days, the city held. The advanced dungeon never broke its entrance and while the intermediate dungeon suffered several moments of almost disaster, it also held, the extra troops from the advanced dungeon proving key in its defense. The beginner dungeon held easily and the clan dungeon defense never wavered. The beginner dungeon was sealed in a day, the intermediate a half a day after that with the clan dungeon following shortly after. The advanced dungeon took three days before its depths fell silent. The resealing of the dungeons was only possible because the advanced dungeon held, never breaking to the surface. Three days of the greatest defense that Coushar had ever held, but it would not be enough.

* * *

Kilniara wandered the inn, restless. The first day after her brother’s return was the worst. She held her place, awaiting Garnedell and Joe’s return, but she found herself alone in her room, unable to sleep. Sleep did claim her that night, not in the gentle embrace of a mother, however, but ambushed violently like a mugger with a sap.

She woke the next morning, still exhausted, but overwhelmed with nervous energy. The inn was silent. The city was silent. The day passed and another night was spent alone and despite her exhaustion, sleep refused to embrace her willingly until she was once again clubbed late in the night.

The third day left her in a buzzing fear as she fluttered around the entire room. When the all clear sounded throughout the city, she almost rushed out. She caught herself before she did however, since she was certain that Joe would soon be returning to their room. The relief she felt after days of waiting overwhelmed her and while she had been right about his return, she found only horror.

* * *

A beast shaped as a man raged in the depths of a dungeon, fighting through exhaustion, depletion, and mental fatigue. For three long days he fought, with the last day fraught with danger as he found himself struggling even harder against the monsters as they seemingly grew incredibly more difficult out of nowhere until suddenly, on the afternoon of the third day, no new monsters appeared before him. He staggered, confusion evident yet compressed and hidden away as he simply sought out his next target. It took Joe almost ten minutes to finally accept no other monster was coming. His exhaustion was absolute, but still, he took the time to stagger back to Garnedell’s side and slither to the floor next to his body, pulling his corpse into his lap before falling asleep, a card clasped preciously in his hand.

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