"Had two big horns, and a wooly jaw."
Greetings, baseball fans!
I'm your host for today's game, L████, and welcome to the final game of the 2017 World Series! Sponsored by the Dirtmouth General Superstore, seller of all trinkets and oddities known under the black skies, and Cornifer Cartography, maker of kingdom-famous maps for adventurers and explorers, now trusted for over twenty years!
Before we begin, let us take a moment and rise for our National Anthem…
…
"It's not unuuusuAL, to be loved by anyone!
It's not unuuusuAL, to have fun with anyone!
But when I see you hanging about, with anyone,
It's not unuuusuAL to see me cryyyy, I wanna die…!"
...
Play ball!
We see the home team's pitcher, Joe Squit, stepping up to the mound; famous for its nasty fastball, catching many a batter off-guard. It has been a keystone in the home team for ages, with Joe Squit on the 3,425th year of its career. A reliable teammate and powerful asset, the home team is starting off with their best today!
blood is mead, blood is wine
And not far away, we see a certain Mr. ████ "Chance" C█████, the visiting team's batter, stepping up to the plate. A newer addition to the roster, Mr. C█████ has shown great potential and skill since early on in this World Series. A risky move, putting a newbie up first to bat. But it's a testament to the visiting team's trust in their new member.
there is no trust. there is no team. there is only him and nothing and no one else to save him from
eternity.
We can expect Mr. Chance to be staying on the team stay with me forever
Mr. Chance prepares his stance, raising his bat as we see Joe Squit throwing its opening pitch-!
"-And with a thunderous crack, he launches it into far left field!" exclaimed Chance as the blunt side of Iselda's nail crashed into the face of a massive mosquito, deflecting the leech to the side. Its long proboscis impaled a nearby wall, leaving the infernal bug stuck. It buzzed in panic, trying in vain to pull itself out.
Chance laughed raucously, sprinting through the tall grass as more of the overgrown pests shot after him. "He runs to first base, the ball flies over the fence, it's outta here-!" One of the bugs charged at him, but Chance spun around and smacked it back with his nail again.
"Second base!"
He came to a ledge and leapt off of it, grinning like a maniac. Just as two more of them soared over his head, he hit the dirt below and stumbled, falling onto his chest. Chance quickly scrambled back up and kept running through the forest, laughing like a giddy child who hadn't realized they were lost yet.
"Third base!"
Chance's sprint came to an abrupt halt as he nearly crashed into one of the wooly creatures he had seen earlier, large blobs of orange Infection hanging off of it. The creature quaked, seeping orange gas, pressure building up as it-
Something whistled through the air, followed immediately by a loud crack and a massive stone slab crushing the creature flat. Tusk hopped off of the large rock and onto the grass, looking innocently up at Chance's orange eyes.
"Home run!" Chance laughs, picking up Tusk like a doll and hopping onto the slab, spinning around joyously. "And it's over! Visiting team take the game, winning the World Series!-"
A bony finger roughly jabbed him in the face, breaking Chance out of his daydream. He seized up for a moment as reality came rushing back at him, needing a second to snap back into focus.
"A-Ah," Chance blushed. Tusk was promptly set back down on the ground, Chance mumbling apologies. He dusted off his pants and jacket with his hands, looking at their surroundings. He couldn't recognize this place; every corner of this underground greenery blended together, and everything looked the same. At least that was one thing this forest and the Crossroads had in common. Even if he knew where they were exactly, it was probably too late to turn back now.
Might as well keep going deeper.
From what he could hear, there weren't any more angry insects nearby. For once, it was unsettlingly quiet, with the only sounds being the fizzing and bubbling of the acid rivers around them, the rustle of leaves from a gust of wind that must've found its way down from the surface, and a soft carefree humming.
Chance and Tusk both perked up when they heard it. They'd heard that song before…
Following the tune through the lush caverns, their resolve only grew as they stepped over loose pieces of paper haphazardly tossed to the ground. Chance gently pushed aside a curtain of vines to see Cornifer sitting in a small crevice, humming to himself as he scribbled away on one of his maps.
At their approach, Cornifer's head shot up, smile beaming when he recognized them.
"Oh, hello again! Fancy meeting you down here!" Cornifer grinned, or at least, Chance thought he grinned, "It's always nice, seeing a friendly face in this wild undergrowth."
"I suppose. I'm more surprised to see you down here, though," Chance replied, feeling himself relax a bit more.
Cornifer let out a hearty laugh, "Oho, my dear friend, did you expect a cartographer to stick in one place?"
"Well…" He had a point, as well as a job to do. "I'm just surprised to have run into you down here. I mean, what are the odds?" He had no idea how large this place was, but he felt as if they were only scratching the surface. That, and he couldn't believe how the otherwise passive Cornifer made it through the perilous obstacles behind them. Was there some kind of shortcut they were missing?
"Happy coincidences, my friend!" Cornifer said, as though dismissing Chance's thoughts. "We're both explorers at heart, you and I." He glanced over at Tusk, "And your small friend here. A feisty one, they are, oho!"
Chance blinked. "Hey, speaking of," he spoke up, getting Cornifer's attention. "Have you run into… well, anyone else, down here?" He didn't know why he was asking Cornifer of all people, but for some reason, he couldn't get his mind off of that.
"Anyone else?" Cornifer parroted, humming to himself, "There were a few, yes."
"Uhm… Did any of them have a red cloak on, by chance?" Chance tried weakly. The only details he knew for certain were that and the horns. It wasn't much to go on.
"Red cloak, erm..." The cartographer paused for a second, thinking. "I believe I recall seeing a figure with such a cloak. But I couldn't tell you much about her; Greenpath is a vibrant place, and my memory isn't what it used to be."
…"Greenpath?" Chance scrunched his face up a bit. Did the people who named this area just… give up?
But then his eyes widened, and his head whipped up to look Cornifer in the eye, and every corner of his mind was fixated on a single word.
"Her?"
Cornifer opened his mouth to respond, but then he perked up as well. "Ah! I remember now! Yes, that one in the red cloak! You must have encountered the Huntress! You had me confused there for a moment."
"...Huntress." Chance did not like the sound of that name. It fit all too well; the sharp, hawk-like glare, the nail that looked roughly his own height, the cold edge of her voice. The Huntress. It was an impression that stuck.
"She's something of a legend out here," Cornifer continued, oblivious to Chance's frightened apprehension. "Although, little is known about her. I couldn't even tell you her name. I could only advise you to keep your distance and stay out of her way. I doubt her title is merely for show."
"R-Right…" Chance muttered. He'd… He'd work something out. They just had to stay out of her way. He could manage that much, right?
Cornifer's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I presume you're looking to purchase a map as well?"
Oh, right. He'd almost forgotten that the large bug sold his maps. "S-Sure. How much?"
Sixty was definitely a bump up from their first price, but Chance didn't complain. They had plenty of money anyway; during their foray through Greenpath, the Gathering Swarm would occasionally flit out of his Geo pouch, only to fly back carrying bits of the currency. Oddly enough, the swarm would also rip a few pieces from the corpses of bugs they had slain. If Chance had to hazard a guess, the infected ones had ingested them?
or carried them, in a past life
As such, they could earn this sixty back in no time at all.
"Alright, thanks."
"Thank you, my friend," Cornifer smiled behind his glasses. "And stay safe!"
"I'll…" Chance sighed as he walked away, his thoughts trailing off. "...try."
Greenpath was like a rose. It was beautiful, inside and out, but only at a glance. Every rose has its thorns. The beauty of Greenpath was not in its gentle and inoffensive petals, but in the thorns themselves. Greenpath's thorns and petals were one and the same. The bubbling acid, leafy greens, esoteric life, even the literal thorny vines that snaked throughout.
A natural paradise, as deadly as it was beautiful. The nature consumed everything it could reach, ancient and abandoned structures having been overrun by the greenery. It made it blatantly clear how long any given thing had been here, just by looking to see if it was swamped in vines yet. Anything new stuck out like a sore thumb.
Like this stupid giant jar they just found.
It was large; a little over Tusk's height, untarnished, although the lid displayed some age. It stood out like a beacon in the foliage, despite the hollow space it was concealed in. But inside…
"A… grub?" Chance spoke dumbly. Within its transparent cage, the lime-green insect squirmed, a sad, glossy look in its eyes. Chance could hear its muffled warbles from within, crying out for help. It was in every way identical to the grubs they had seen back in the Crossroads, likely a relative. But why was it all the way out here, and trapped in a glass jar of all things?
"Hey, little guy, we're gonna help you outta here, alright?" Chance cooed soothingly into the glass. The grub brightened up a little at his murmurs, its eyes wide with excitement. Chance stood up and studied the jar itself. The cap was much larger than that of a pot; it had about the same radius as a truck tire, with a spiraled handle in the center. Chance reached over, grabbed the handle and tugged, but the lid didn't budge. It was a bit hard to both reach out and pull up at the same time. He grabbed the edges of the lid with both hands and set a foot against the glass, grunting as he tugged upwards. He could feel the cover give as it squirmed upwards under the growing pressure, and-
CRASH!
Chance stumbled as his foot slipped forward suddenly, sending the lid over his head, the weight and momentum sending Chance falling backward. Chance groaned as he landed flat on his back in the grass, thankful that his pants were thick enough to save him from any cuts. He looked up to see Tusk holding their nail, standing with an air of self-righteousness. The grub, standing in the center of the wreckage, gave a happy trill, burrowing into the soil underfoot.
Chance gave Tusk a weary stare. "...Why'd you do that?"
The small knight only gave a shrug, and Chance let his head fall back into the grass.
Chance shuddered as he ran his hand over the smooth surface of the large… thing, sticking out of the ground. It didn't look new, it didn't seem man-slash-bug-made, yet it still stuck out to him. It didn't fit the scenery. Not did the other dozen or so of these things, all surrounding the dim hallway they found themselves walking down. They all curved inwards, deeper into the cavern, into the darkness, like the maw of some horrific beast.
"I think we went the wrong way."
Tusk stopped and turned around, looking back at Chance. They only nodded their head towards the deeper end of the cave, not planning on going back.
"No, I'm serious, I think we were supposed to go down back there, not straight."
Tusk probably would've sighed if they had a mouth. They ambled over to where Chance was squatting, examining the large… teeth? They reached up and grabbed Chance's hand that was placed upon the massive fang, and Chance felt himself shiver at the small knight's cool and impossibly smooth touch. They gently tugged it off, and clasped their tiny hand into Chance's own. They looked up into Chance's eyes, nodded, and went back into the tunnel, pulling Chance along.
"U-Uh, h-hey, wait-!" Chance stumbled over his words as the tiny knight dragged them deeper into the menacing cavern. He was forced to lean forward uncomfortably to make up for his and Tusk's difference in stature, and he nearly tripped and fell flat on his face several times before they reached the light at the end of the tunnel.
The cramped, yet imposing cave widened up into a much larger room. Countless wild Lumaflies danced in the air like a swirling cosmos, filling the room with a soft, yet warm light. The massive ivory pikes were only more plentiful in here, and in the center of the cave, a small mound sat, unassuming.
Unassuming, were it not for the dozens of teeth lining the outer rim of an opening into the mound itself. They weren't like the other giant teeth out here; They were definitely unnatural, and Chance did not want to know about whatever horrors lie beyond the mouth of the cave.
"Tusk, I really, really think we should-"
Six smoldering eyes pierced the darkness, and a monstrous roar erupted from within the circle of teeth.
Tusk stood their ground, staring stoically into the white eyes of the demon. Chance was less successful, screaming and falling backward as he frantically grasped for his nail. Unsheathing it with shaky hands, he felt adrenaline and panic cloud his mind as he rolled back onto his feet.
He had to kill it. Before it killed him. Before it killed Tusk.
It was a monster, some horrific thing that should not and should never be. It threatened him, threatened his only friend in this hellscape. It had to die, and he had to kill it.
Sprinting forward blindly, he sensed a huge, shadowy limb reach out to strike him. He could see nothing, blinded in panic and rage, but he could feel the attack coming.
Like a second instinct, he tightened his grip on the sword, screaming as he swung skyward, and felt his blade connect.
A glint of light reflected off the metal of his sword, and Chance blinked. He could see clearly again. His heart was racing, the first beads of sweat were forming from what must've been ten seconds of fighting, but blind instinct had faded back to clear thought.
A low, pained growl came from his side, and Chance whirled around to see the demon, two long, emaciated, dark arms, cradling a wounded hand. His blade had managed to slice off the smallest finger, which had fallen to the ground and was profusely gushing blood. A heavy gash ran along the palm of the injured hand as well, oozing the same dark blood.
"...What are you…?"
Chance caught his breath as the larger than life thing spoke to him. He wasn't sure why it surprised him. He'd already seen talking bugs, but a creature of this scale… it felt unreal. Its blisteringly white eyes turned to him, and Chance felt every bone in his body freeze up.
"You scream for mercy… before striking with such ferocity. And yet, here you stand, paralyzed. Are you confused, strange fleshbag?"
Chance blinked at the nickname, before narrowing his eyes. "Fleshbag?" He stepped forward threateningly. "What kind of name is that, you-"
"And there you go yet again," the Thing spoke with bewildered exasperation, "You cannot decide between pitiful cowering and murderous rage. I've never seen a creature quite like you, fleshbag."
Chance paused to let the Thing's words set in, ignoring the offensive new nickname. What had gotten into him lately? He had been steadily becoming more and more irritable, with a growing disdain for all things around him.
...There was one explanation burning in his mind, but he didn't have the guts to face it head-on.
Shaking off his indecision, Chance gave the creature's hand another look. "L-lemme fix that," he stammered, approaching with more caution. The Thing watched with interest as Chance sheathed his nail and reached down towards the severed finger - which was almost as long as his arm - and pi-
Brothers and sisters
Dark, could be anywhere
Dark
Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Cli-
Alone? All the walls are sticky
Alone
Kill, eat
Hunt, understand
Clickity-clack! Clickity-clack! Clickity-cla-
-cked it up, grunting at the weight. He grimaced at the blood, pooling in the grass at his feet and seeping into his clothes. He stumbled over to the Hunter and held the finger at the stump where it should be. Where it should be. Where it should always be. It's always been there. Always there. Never left. Never left.
Slowly, the seam between them fused together, and Chance willed the pale wisps dancing among his fingers to climb upwards, sealing the gash in the Hunter's palm, as if the wound was never there. Which it wasn't. Never was.
The Hunter flexed the reattached finger, grunting softly to itself. "Such an odd morsel," Its six glowing eyes focused on Chance, "What other secrets do you hide…?"
Chance inched back slightly. It was hard to keep eye contact when the other guy had three times the eyes you did.
"Well… erhm… wanna trade secrets?" he stammered sheepishly. He still wasn't convinced that the Hunter wouldn't try to eat him still. Still, if he could maybe leverage with his supposed mystique, he could perhaps get him and Tusk out of this jam alive.
Surprisingly, the beast let out a low chuckle, "Cowardly still, and yet you banter words?" He huffed. "And that murderous instinct still rages in you, despite how you try to suppress it. Do you possess the same urges I do? To stalk, kill, understand?"
"Um…" It had never been about killing for the sake of killing; he and Tusk did what had to be done. Half the time, he almost considered it mercy. A mercy from the same thing that was slowly killing him from the inside out. "Well, I… wish to understand."
"Bah!" The Hunter growled, "One cannot merely understand. To read of and study beasts is to know, but to understand, one must act, and face the unknown head-on. You may not possess the spirit of the Hunt, but what of the tiny squib?"
Tusk looked up into the eyes of the Hunter at their mention, who let out a grunt of approval. "Do you see, fleshbag? Even the squib is braver than you; fearless, even." The beast let out several quiet breaths, examining Tusk closer, "Yes, this one understands."
"How can you tell?" Chance felt that it wasn't so much that Tusk had bravery, so much that they had an absolute absence of fear. Tusk probably was a hunter, at least in the big one's eyes; it wasn't a big stretch to make for the warrior-like bug. But to tell at just a glance alone?
"Us hunters share a kindred bond, fleshbag," The Beast growled, "It is not something I expect you to understand."
And there was that word again. Understand. Maybe Chance would understand what it meant to be a Hunter one day. Maybe. It wasn't really that important to him. So, what was important? What did he need to understand?
Something popped into Chance's head.
"W-Wait!" Could this Hunter be related to her? "We saw someone in a red cloak earlier. Do you know anything about-"
"Find out yourself," the Hunter dismissed, spitting a slate out of its mound "cavern", which Tusk caught. "One of my journals. It will help you, though it may be hard for the inexperienced to read at first. Go forth and slay, squib! Prove yourself worthy of the title!" Tusk picked up the stone, looked over it for a second, then stashed it on themself… somewhere.
"And for your companion, the fleshbag, perhaps he can be made a hunter yet," The Hunter mused, "I leave him in your hands, squib." Tusk solemnly nodded, almost in deference. Chance almost wanted to exclaim, I'm right here!, but held his tongue.
"Thank you… Hunter." Chance said, "We'll see you around. Also, sorry for the… erm." He gave a vague gesture towards the Hunter's hand, and then an awkward wave as he and Tusk began to make their way out.
"Don't disappoint me, fleshbag, and we'll let bygones be bygones." The Hunter replied. Chance didn't want to think about what disappointment meant for him.
Finally, as they left behind the Hunter, Chance let out a breath he had been holding. He could still feel his nerves shaking, even now. But, they did get something from this. A rock, which Tusk had brought out once again. And one which they… opened?
He blinked, taking a closer look. No, rocks. Two thin ones, to be exact, acting as covers for crude pages composed of what looked like crushed leaves. For their contents, Chance couldn't even tell. It was as indecipherable as the rest of Hallownest's writing. And for once, it seemed to be the same for Tusk, judging by the slight shaking of their head.
Chance just sighed. He'd figure it out later. Along with everything else in this hellhole.
They had to be going on circles. The vines, the grass, the leaves, the bushes, the flowers, the acid, the faint twinge of Infection in the air. All of it blended together into one big compost pile in Chance's eyes. A flat shade of green. Cornifer's map telling them that they were, in fact, making progress was the only thing keeping Chance from giving up from frustration.
Finally, the flat green clashed and warped with a uniform grey brick, a stone platform leading them forward. A landmark, an anchor, something to prove he was making progress at all, something to prove that Greenpath even existed.
And then blood was splattered all over it.
She was blood.
The Huntress fell from thin air and onto the stone bricks, landing perfectly on the ground. Chance couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He was doing so well at avoiding her, he hadn't even seen her yet, and now she was right there in front of him. The distance between them meant nothing. Even if he couldn't reach her, he couldn't shake the feeling that she could reach him, from the other side of the stone platform, from the other side of the world.
She stood up slowly, as though she could sense the presence behind her. Her nail - no, that wasn't a nail. Her needle glinted under Greenpath's impossible light, stainless silver, but Chance couldn't even imagine the shades of red and orange it had been stained before.
Her two imposing horns turned, and Chance found himself trapped in her dark eyes, no matter how he clawed for escape.
Her eyes were as black as Tusk's, but her eyes didn't feel empty like Tusk's were. Instead of two bottomless pits for eye sockets, the Huntress had true eyes, and a tiny hint of light managed to escape from their inky blackness to glint malice at him.
She was blood.
She was brilliance, she was elegance, and she made him want to vomit.
Chance could only stammer out a single shaky breath.
"Wh-Wait-"
The air around the Huntress seemed to shimmer, and she wordlessly threw her needle out into the forest beyond them. But as Chance reached out, she impossibly flew off after it, grappling her way through the air and weaving between the vines, soaring off in the direction she threw her needle into.
A heavy silence fell. All Chance could do was focus on his breathing, keep the air going through your lungs, keep yourself moving, don't let her have killed you with a glance.
He felt a tugging on his pants, and there was Tusk. He'd almost forgotten about them. Chance could only sigh as he looked down at the little knight.
"At least you're doing alright, bud."
"Oka-Okay, yeah, great, great great, cool, but what about me?!"
Chance had been gracious enough to carry a tired Tusk around on his shoulders, giving the small knight a piggy-back ride, until the Knight had spotted a ledge high above them and leapt off of his shoulders to reach it. Tusk gained a foothold and scrabbled upwards onto the ledge, discarding a small shower of rocks down upon Chance.
Tusk stood atop the ledge, triumphant, staring down at him as if to say, "Why not just climb the vines?"
"Wh-I don't-Do these even-..." he grunted. "Can these even hold me?" he grabbed a fistful of vines off the dirt wall and tugged. They held, no matter how hard he pulled. With a sigh of resignation, Chance reached up and began slowly scaling the wall up to Tusk.
Call - Oh - See - Uhm.
The Roman Colosseum, also known as the Flavian Amphitheatre. Made primarily of limestone, tuff and concrete. Held a maximum capacity of approximately eighty thousand people in its time, with an average audience of sixty-five thousand.
Approximately six point five million visitors every year, as of 2015.
Six-point-five million visitors per year, divided by three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, equals about seventeen thousand and eight hundred visitors a day.
Seventeen thousand, eight hundred.
By comparison, this colosseum had an average daily visitor count of zero.
While Tusk practically pranced into the open space, Chance bit his lip. The atmosphere here felt somehow sharp. Something was watching him. Many somethings. Somethings with a thousand eyes. Eyes pressing into him, into his skin, like needles. He clenched his fists until they were red and slick with sweat. Tension in his arms and legs. A ragged breath. He set foot inside, cautiously following after Tusk.
This colosseum had recently broken its record for daily visitors, with an astounding two.
His steps on the stone floor echoed far in a way that they wouldn't anywhere else in Greenpath. He circled around on the spot, looking for shadows moving between the arches or monsters creeping between the seats. Hunters hiding in caves or huntresses ready to strike from above.
The leaves danced at his feet.
One leaf twisted and twirled through the air, floating up towards Chance's face. He blinked, and tried to swat it away. It slipped between his fingers, however, and danced away. Chance could only watch, paranoia rising, as it spun, wavered, and settled on the ground. It was only then Chance noticed all the leaves on the floor, seemingly grouped in a large, yet flat pile, like a cartoonish booby-trap where a pit hit under them. Chance didn't have the best sense of scale, but to try and calm himself, he tried to estimate the size of the pile from where he stood. It looked like it was about seven feet in width, and maybe about forty feet in length.
No, thirty-five.
Thirty.
Twenty.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Five.
The leaves rushed past him.
This colosseum had an average daily visitor count of two thousand.
Every seat was filled, crowds of bugs roaring down to the stage below, in admiration, in love, in impatience. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, and every last eye was on him.
He tightened his grip on his spear, feeling the brilliant and midsummer sun beat down on his skin that wasn't covered by his gladiator's armor. It wasn't armor. The leather lower half of a tunic around his waist, draping down to just above his knees, adorned by metal embeds. A single leather strap slung over his shoulder. The most protective parts of his armor were the heavy metal shoulderplates, and the tall, bold helmet, adorned with an orange mohawk.
He shifted his feet across the stone, kicking up some dust with the heavy sandal-like boots that went up his calves as he got into a battle position.
He couldn't fail now. She was watching, and he wouldn't screw up in front of her.
The leaves quaked, and from them exploded a massive beast. Two orange eyes awoke from within the leaves, followed by a deep, guttural roar of fury.
The monster charged forward, like a raging bull.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Five.
He leapt to the side, as he had practiced countless times before, and thrust his spear outwards, raking into the beast's side. Perfectly executed, yet only to graze through air.
The leaves scattered and fell to the ground, and the beast vanished with it in a vanishing act that made the crowd roar in approval.
Foom! The beast was behind him. It rushed at him again, and he didn't have time to dodge. All he could do was raise his spear defensively, and the leaves all rushed past him with a gust of wind.
When he opened his clenched eyes, his spear was gone.
The crowd "ooo"'d in wonder, murmuring in excitement, asking the bugs sitting around them if they saw anything. Nobody did.
He spun around, desperately seeking for something to defend himself with. Nothing.
He cast his eyes skyward, to her, to the Goddess, silently begging for forgiveness, begging for mercy.
But the gaze he expected to burn him with disappointment was only filled with adoration. Trust. Belief.
This wasn't over.
The beast rose again.
Fifteen.
Ten
Five.
With expert skill, he bent his leg upwards and cast it forth with the force of a sledgehammer, straight into the beast's face-
And it all broke apart.
Several small, blueish-green creatures with cream-colored faces flew out from where the Moss Charger one stood, and scattered. Tusk dashed up to make quick work of the bugs, but they all fled without a scratch. Whatever. They wouldn't be back.
Chance wavered, stumbled, and fell on the ground, his leg hurting like hell.
He heard a crash, and glanced up to see Tusk's pale head just barely poking out from a pile of leaves left behind by the creature. Chance smiled, slowly pulling himself to his feet, hobbling over, wincing from the aching in his leg, and collapsing in the leaf pile. Compared to the firm, itchy dirt, or the hard stone, it felt like heaven.
Maybe he could stay here for a little bit longer.
Chapter name and beginning notes are a reference to Wooly Bully by Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs.
This chapter took MUCH longer than expected, so we thank you sincerely for your patience up until now. While this delay was partially attributed to writer's block and sheer laziness, it's also because Piston and I have been working on a second project alongside this one, one that is directly related to this story. We won't say exactly what it is yet, but we expect the first chapter for it to release within the coming days, so keep a look out for that!
You might notice the slight stylistic change in the later parts of this chapter. I'd noticed that our styles were starting to get a bit stale, with the "this happened then that happened then this person said that thing and this person felt that" type drone. The new style I'm trying is experimental for us, a more minimalist, train-of-thought type of writing. In theory, it should both help keep chapters shorter(and by extension, faster to write) and help make some of the themes in this story easier to express.
Also, yes, we know that you can't fight the Massive Moss Charger in-game without the Mothwing Cloak, and we're just gonna silently ignore that detail.
And we're also looking for suggestions for a new title. Cause this one kinda sucks. Any ideas are welcome!
The next chapter should be a bit faster. Thank you all so much for your patience, please remember to leave a review and we'll see you next chapter!