Night Fight, Fame and Fortune
Iggy's POV:
Iggy drove the paddle harder and harder into the water. Sweat ran off him in bucketfuls, and his knuckles were wrapped so hard around the paddle and the sail guide (or the wheel, he switched back and forth) that his knuckles were white as a ghost, which was uncommon for Koopa's, since most had yellow skin, and thus it would be light-yellow. But no, not this time. Iggy was squeezing them so hard that his knuckles were white, and that was because of the Reaper Leviathan behind him.
He didn't know how close it was to him, but he didn't want to know. In the past, he never wanted to know how close the jungle monster that was chasing him was, and that want held true here, too.
Iggy looked up at Tower Isle, where he saw Larry, a Goomba, and a yellow Yoshi disappear from the top outlook, presumably to get to Iggy to help him, though what good would that do? The Reaper Leviathan was huge, being a Leviathan-class creature and all of that. All Iggy knew was that he had to get to Tower Isle—the problem was, that action has consequences.
I'm endangering all of these people here by leading the Reaper Leviathan to this place! Iggy screamed into his mind.
They're all in the tower, aren't they? Lemmy responded with a hint of panic, if thoughts could have hints of emotions. Lemmy thought they could, at least.
Most of the tower is wooden, though, Lemmy! Iggy snapped. I know they're slowly converting it into more limestone for a sturdier structure, but what if the Reaper Leviathan breaks the wood? The whole tower could fall into the sea, almost everyone would be consumed, and then Whirlpool Archipelago would have to decide on a new safe spot that—
IGGY! Lemmy shrieked into his mind, which shoved Iggy out of his thoughts and back to the situation at hand. Iggy's boat was just a few feet from the dock! The problem was, Iggy's boat wasn't tall at all—it was a simple sailboat, after all—and it was smaller than every boat type expected to arrive at Tower Isle. Iggy was driving the deployed sailboat from the Yoshi galleon, and most Yoshi boats had different proportions and craftsmanship techniques than those used by Whirlpool Archipelago. Apparently, the creators of the non-natural parts of Tower Isle didn't take small Yoshi sailboats into account…well, there was no reason for them to. The chances of one driving a "small-class Eastern Island Yoshicraft fishing-and-leisure sailboat" to Tower Isle by one Koopa at a time of peril due to the rare occurrence of a Reaper Leviathan appearing and terrorizing Whirlpool Archipelago *huff* WAS highly unlikely.
Also, as the dark part of his mind added to the problem, he was just one Koopa. Maybe rarer in appearance and possibly personality and intelligence than others, but again, he was just one Koopa. What was just one Koopa, more or less? He didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, did he? There were millions of Koopas on the Mainland alone, and probably billions out there in the great big world, on lost, uncharted continents that maps that led to them were forgotten or never made in the first place. Other species, too, possibly of beings more intelligent and advanced than Koopas, like the Ancients! That thought always appealed to Iggy, that maybe there were more of them out there, or at the very least, more artifacts of their civilization, just waiting to be found!
IGGY! FOOOOOOOOCUSSSSSSS! hollered Lemmy just as Iggy was about to hit the dock. Iggy tried to scream, but his body didn't want to cooperate, and instead he let out another wheeze, one not different to all the others he'd produced as he'd tried to get to Tower Isle. Iggy let go of the paddle in a fit of terror, letting the tool fly from his hand into the water behind him. It hit something in the water before snapping in two, and Iggy knew exactly what it had hit. His heart subtly-not-so-subtly told him that he had to get out of the water in a few seconds, and if he failed to comply, he'd have a heart attack, die, and be eaten by the Reaper Leviathan behind him.
Iggy grappled the steering guide, dug his feet into the planks of the ship, and leaned back the best he could. The sail turned, and the boat started to turn sideways, and then Iggy reached for the wheel, ready to use it to finish turning the sailboat before jumping off it and onto the dock.
The Reaper Leviathan decided otherwise.
GRRERAAARERAAARERHERRRRRR!
The roar of the Reaper is a terrifying thing no one should ever have to hear. It echoes off every surface, reverbs to an extent while also ricocheting through your skull, sending shivers across your skeleton, turning your legs to jelly. Your hairs (if you have any, since Koopas only have them on their head and maybe their eyebrows, and most Yoshis and Goombas have none, for example) stand on end for hours afterwards, as the sound repeats over and over, and you can never forget it. Many have tried to write down the sound, but no one can correctly. No one. It can be put into words, yet nothing except for other Reaper Leviathans can perfectly replicate its call.
The worst thing about the roar of the Reaper is that it is also echolocation, in a way, but not how most understand it.
If you can hear it, it knows exactly where you are.
Iggy was flung way up into the air as the Reaper smashed up through the middle of the sailboat, tearing it to scraps, just as Iggy made one of his high jumps. The tip of one of the Reaper's mandibles scraped his shell, which heightened Iggy's adrenaline to an even taller height. The wind ruffled his hair, whistled through his eyes, and blew Iggy's glasses off! This time, Iggy was quicker than the Drowned incident, and grabbed them and slapped them back on before they met a certain fate. Next, water gushed up around him as the Reaper fell back into the water, and after that Iggy looked down, only to realize he was falling past the top of Tower Isle, where Larry was reaching out as much as he could with an extended hand, a look of pure horror Iggy had never seen on his friend before etching his face. Iggy gasped as his lungs struggled, and he outstretched his lanky arm and took Larry's hand.
"Wagh!" called Larry as he was dragged off the outlook by Iggy's weight. Iggy and Larry's eyes both extended as they both began to fall down, only for Larry to suddenly stop falling, which allowed Iggy to stop. Iggy looked past Larry's head while Larry only had to turn his head to see a red Yoshi—Lavabake—standing at the edge, his long, Yoshi tongue dropping down like a rope, wrapping around Larry's waist. Unfortunately for the red Yoshi, his tongue was being jabbed by Larry's bottom shell-spike as he did this, and Iggy could see him wince, even with the Yoshi's eyes being closed.
Larry began to sheath his shell-spikes to lessen Lavabake's pain when Iggy's hand, which was very wet, almost entirely came loose from Larry's.
"I'M SLIPPING!" Iggy yelled, not trying to conceal his panic in front of everyone anymore. Larry held tighter and pulled upwards, while Iggy grabbed Larry's other hand, freed his wet hand, brushed it against his grass robe a few times, then grabbed Larry's free hand again.
He kicked his legs in the air, scared for his life, but more scared for Larry's, if anything. If he, Iggy, fell and died, either from the impact, drowning, the Reaper, or a combination, then Larry would only have three people he could really care about in his life: Finnian, Mariam, and most of all, Alex. That was when Iggy had a better understanding of Larry's unbridled terror. He didn't want to lose Iggy. He already lost his family; Finnian and Mariam lost theirs; and Alex never knew her real parents and barely knew her adopted Koopa ones. Larry couldn't control any of those events, with two-thirds of them being lost to the Mega Blooper attack, but right here, right now, Larry could control what happened to Iggy, if Lavabake didn't let go. Even if they both fell again, Larry would still have somewhat of a choice for what to do. Possibly, he would kick around in the air, so that Iggy landed in the water, and Larry hit the port, presumably broke some bones, and then grabbed Iggy quickly before the Reaper got him. Or maybe the other way around? Speaking of…
Iggy looked down at the foamy water. He didn't see any sign of the Reaper Leviathan, its shadow or something else, everywhere it looked. It was either far out or had swam to the other side of Tower Isle. It couldn't have swum deep down, because there wasn't much deep to swim down to! That was why it was such a rare occurrence for Reapers to come to the shallows…there were just. So. Big.
And with big sizes come big appetites.
"Here we go, aaaand UP!" said a gray Yoshi as he held onto Lavabake and ran backwards as fast he could, which was quite fast, as Yoshis had a running speed higher than any horse on average. Lavabake jerked his head up, too, and so Larry jerked up his arms, and Iggy jerked his legs down as if he was jumping on air. With a great heave from everyone, Lavabake yanked Iggy and Larry up into the air by a foot, and then the two Koopas rolled into their shells as they crashed onto the outlook, with Larry rolling into a barrel of spy glasses, spilling the contents and putting a hole through the barrel. He bumped into a large lump of stone that supported a bonfire, and then finally rolled to a stop.
Iggy got out of his shell and sat down, dazed. He chuckled like a dying man.
"Woof," said Iggy.
Morton's POV:
The grass had gone from coarse and dead to thick tufts of grayish-green. The evergreens were smaller now, but appeared healthier. Not many mossy boulders berated Morton's path now, and many times he felt free to run through the forest, instead of walking. The evening air was crisp but still stung with pine, though his snout had got used to it now. Despite the incoming night quickly approaching, his new shell-cover, chestplate, shackle, and boots, along with two sealed wooden cups of fresh water and many leaf bundles of berries in his shell, made him feel very confident. It also helped that no Illager or monster sightings had happened ever since his mental breakdown at the graveyard earlier that day.
Until he ran into a purple slime.
It dropped from a nearby tree and, before he could react, bounced towards him and rammed into his chestplate. He fell backwards onto his shell, but thought fast and retreated into it, pushing out one of his feet to flip himself over so that his spikes were up before retracting his foot. With the added armor making it harder to get into his shell now, he looked like some strange ball of metal that was spiky on top, and bumpy on the bottom.
"I CAN CRUSH YOU," Morton muttered to himself. He heard a hissing noise as the slime tried to collect around his shell, but his spikes pierced it and slowed it down. Morton pushed out his two feet and used them to flip himself backwards, crushing the slime as his spikes sunk into the dirt. He then popped out his arms and used them to help spin around, drilling the purple slime even deeper down. Finally, it began to bubble and sizzle, creating a disgusting sound just before it blasted open like a big zit, purple gel squirting everywhere.
Smiling sadistically to himself, Morton stood up and looked at his mess. The ground was now stained with violet goop, and it looked like some grape juice or grape jelly had just melted to a sticky end; but Morton was the wiser. Using some grass, he scooped up some more distinct gel globs and tossed them into his shell. He could tell it was starting to get full as it was difficult to hide inside just seconds ago—he already had some gel inside, and then his water cups and berry bundles and Nightmare Fuel clump. Instead of worrying, though, he just told himself that if he found anything new he could sacrifice some gel, but for now, he would leave it alone.
He kept moving. The sky above dimmed from blue to a light orchid-purple, and the first stars started to brave the night. Morton's vision continued to decline, and eventually a deep blue sheet had been laid over the land, one sprinkled with stars that was actually pretty calming to look at. Morton arrived at a cluster of boulders with space just wide enough for him to slip through, if he turned side-ways, into a grassy little safe spot.
Taking hold of the opportunity, Morton gathered some damp sticks and pines and tossed them next to the entrance between the boulders. A quick dip into his memory reminded him of Brad the Koopatrol telling him that gel was flammable, and so he tossed the purple gel (and squirt of green gel he'd nabbed) into the pile of sticks and pines. Next, he got out his knife and struck the sticks and gel to produce some sparks. Another strike, and then a fire was born. Morton smiled and started to hum to himself as he set his uncooked berry bundles next to the campfire to roast, and then took a seat on a flat stone, sipping from one of his water cups. He'd run out of green caps and steak by now, but the berries had proved more than sufficient. Morton also took off his quiver of now only five arrows and set it inside the safe spot, for it was wearing on his shell and shell-cover, and subsequently tightened his copper bow and oversized sheath with his flint knife onto his belt.
After his drink, Morton breathed in the fresh air, coughed, and then pulled the clay cap over his now-empty cup, and pushed it into his shell. Afterwards, he rose up in search of another puddle to get water from, with the smoke and light from the campfire being a marker for his safe spot.
Morton fingered through bush after bush, not coming up with anything, sadly. Frowning, he delved deeper into the thicket, into an area where the flora had condensed again. Finally, he spotted a berry bush, and quickly plucked as many of the sweet, shiny red berries as he could, cutting up some grass to wrap groups of berries in. He placed the bundles in his shell, then sliced some leaves as big as his hands off the bushes and put them in his as well, for an idea to craft something new had come to him. Satisfied with his trip, he turned and headed back towards his camp, only to spot a zombie shambling over from the gloom.
"HELLO, ZOMBIE," Morton said in a quaky voice. Naming the problem always helped Morton solve it, and then the next step was actually doing the solving.
He gripped his knife, bared his teeth, and charged the zombie. Its black eyes fixated on him, its green skin and ragged clothes blending in with his surroundings. Its black claws shone in the moonlight, but unlike his first encounter with the foul beasts at the grassland, Morton was undeterred. Just as he got close to the monster, Morton turned and pierced the zombie with his shell-spikes, now strengthened with the bronze shell-cover. The zombie stumbled back as Morton whirled to face the creature. It looked down to see the black goop bleeding from its punctures, then looked back at Morton just as the Koopa sliced it across the chest, then stabbed its un-beating heart. Morton kicked the zombie back, freeing his knife, and watched as several rotting chunks broke off and rolled away from the twice-dead corpse.
"TAKE THAT, YOU—"
A shrill groan made Morton look behind him to see two zombies approaching. One wore a leather cap, and the other clutched a scratched wooden shovel in its rotting hands. Wrinkling his snout at their stench, Morton repeated the same tactic as last time, aiming for the zombie with the leather cap. Just as he got within arm-length of the zombie, he turned and stabbed it with his shell-spikes. As he pulled out his spikes by running forward, though, his helmet took a big hit as the zombie with the shovel whacked the makeshift weapon against Morton's head. The shock reverberated through his skull and without thought Morton dropped down into his shell and rolled backwards, smashing through the zombie-with-the-shovel's bottom half. The zombie's upper body fell behind Morton, and then Morton sprung from his shell, smacking the cap-wearing zombie's shoulder, which made it fall off. Morton then stabbed his knife into the zombie's side, and it, too, fell alongside its companion.
Morton put his hands on his hips, disoriented and drawing heavy breaths. He eyed the Undead's spoils with disgust, and then tried to get back to camp before something else came after him. Unfortunately, once he got back to the campfire and the boulders forming the safe spot, he was greeted with a floating eye that was almost as big as his head. It had a blue iris that darkened into purple, with a black cornea and red veins streaking across the white of the eye, leading to several veins that hung off the eye like bloody tentacles. The floating eye spun in the air to face Morton, and its pupil shrank before it darted forward.
"WHOA THERE!" Morton yelled as the floating eye rammed into his chestplate, which sent a spark of pain throughout his body. He'd seen these floating eyes in the distance at night before, but this was his first true encounter with this night monster.
The floating eye bounced off of Morton and flew diagonally away, before slowly changing directories, and hovering overhead Morton. The whole time, its actual eye focused on him and its tentacles writhed, which made the abomination even more creepy. Morton took out his knife and jumped and slashed at the eye, but it just floated higher before suddenly darting in. With a wordless battle cry, Morton struck it with his knife. Droplets of blood flew off from the impact, but the eye just spun in the air before flying into an evergreen.
"WHUH…" Morton said aloud, slowly approaching the tree. His grip on his flint knife tightened even more. Then, Morton heard something crashing through the bushes behind him, and he took his focus off the tree to see another zombie come forth into the light of the campfire. Its empty sockets reminded Morton of the floating eye, and then he wondered to himself if there was a connection.
THWACK! The floating eye rammed into Morton's helmet, sending more pain through him. He spun wildly to locate it, and once he did, he growled and bared his fangs at the monster.
It could be the eyes of the zombies, he thought. Wait, no. It's bigger than the zombie's whole head!
A growl turned his attention back to the Undead. Morton ran at the zombie, and it opened its moldy jaw in a low groan right before Morton pierced it with his shell-spikes, then turned and stabbed it twice in the chest. He then got his knife ready for the final blow, but the floating eye smacked into his side, knocking him off balance. He hit the dirt, and his knife flew from his hand, skidding to a stop in some tall grass.
Crap, Morton thought.
The zombie stood over him, saliva dripping onto the edges of Morton's chestplate. Morton rolled over, wiping the saliva off in the grass as he kept rolling in his shell, trying to reach his knife. He felt the floating eye hit him again, and he was flipped over. The floating eye struck downward into his chest, pushing Morton down, and sinking his spikes into the ground. Morton pushed his arms and legs from the arm-holes and leg-holes in his shell to flip himself over, but that exposed them, and the zombie bent down and raked its broken claws across his left arm. Morton cried in pain as he got to his arms and feet like a turtle and jumped forward, slamming into the zombie. The zombie staggered back, and then Morton got up and ran towards the tall grass, ducking to avoid the floating eye.
Morton fell into the grass, wincing as it tickled his bleeding scratches across his arm. Finally, he felt a jab in his hand—his flint knife. He grabbed it by the handle and stood up, his head just over the grass.
"YES!" he said triumphantly.
The floating eye sailed from the night in a downward ark and caught Morton in the snout. The shock knocked Morton back into the grass, his metal gear clanging and banging loudly, attracting who knows what now.
Are you serious? Morton thought to himself as he rolled around his shell the best he could with his armor. Instead of smooth sliding like it used to, his armor made his shell roll like an apple down the hill, which was disorienting for his head, especially now with the hit to the head like that.
Morton got up on the other side of the tall grass than he'd started, which was a collection of trees lit by scare moonlight. Three shambling forms caught Morton's eye in the darkness, and then he heard the rattling of...BONES?...somewhere in the distance. The three new zombies, all with wild hair, dirty clothes, and this time, bloodshot eyes, got closer, all itching for a fight.
Morton shook his head and ran back through the tall grass, re-entering his campfire's warmth. As he did, he noticed it, along with everything else, was looking more pale than before, and the first whispers of insanity started to float through him. Not seeing the zombie or floating eye anywhere, Morton dashed to his campfire where his berry bundles were cooking. He ate as many as he could, but he didn't feel his sanity regenerating at all!
Grrraghh…
Morton got up with his knife ready and faced the zombie that was approaching. It was the one he had already damaged, and so one downward swing finished it off. He thought he was going to be fine, until the floating eye struck again. Morton stumbled around after the impact, the whispers becoming more audible as he did. He looked up to see the evil eye flying in circles above his head, bits of blood dripping down around him. Keeping an eye on the eye, Morton grabbed a stick and added it to the fire, using his flint knife to give it an extra push to live.
A skittering sound made Morton glance off to see Mr. Skits sitting on the other side of the campfire.
"HEY," Morton said.
Mr. Skits's jaw opened and closed.
"WHAT SHOULD I DO, MR. SKITS?" Morton asked the passive Nightmare Creature. "ALL OF 'EM MONSTERS ATTACKING ME, AND FOR WHAT? I DUNNO. DO YOU—"
Mr. Skits slipped away into the shadows and teleported off somewhere as the three zombies Morton had caught sight of marched out from the distance, eyeing him hungrily. The floating eye descended down behind them, watching Morton with morbid delight.
What does that thing want? thought Morton, a thought that could've been directed to Mr. Skits or the floating eye or maybe something else. He pointed his knife at them, suppressing the pain from the scratches and bruises he'd earned that night as the zombies and floating eye came closer.
"COME ON!" he said.
The middle zombie wheezed and bolted forwards, swinging its arms without cause, except for striking Morton down. Morton pivoted, running the zombie through with his shell spikes before freeing himself and ending the zombie with several slashes. He was then punched in-between his shell spikes by a zombie, and he turned and had to immediately jerk his head down as the floating eye tried to hit him again. Remembering the spike on top of his helmet, Morton charged, and the spike went through the neck of the zombie that had just attacked him. The zombie's head bounced off, and the Undead skull moaned absentmindedly before dying again. Its body crumpled and broke into pieces in front of Morton, and that was that.
Morton took a deep breath, but then heard the pounding of feet behind him, and an angry growl. Morton backpedaled into the zombie, then turned and struck it three times. The zombie's eyes went spastic before refocusing on its prey. Its jaw fell off as it tried to roar, and Morton used that time to bash it with his shell-spikes once again, then sliced its stomach. The zombie muttered something unintelligible, and then fell against one of the boulders. A single moldy potato sprang from the pockets of the zombie's pants, and rolled into the fire, turning to ash.
Zombies give more than rotten flesh? Huh, interesting, Morton thought to himself, seconds before the floating eye slammed into him, and he almost fell into his campfire.
"YOU VILE THING!" Morton spat, something Sr. used to say to sharp rocks, sand pits, or really anything else of any level of inconvenience. Morton spun in place before locating the floating eye. It was hovering above the body of the zombie Morton had killed before the one he just had. The floating eye fixated its gaze on the Koopa, then shot towards him with scary speed. Acting as fast as he had yet, Morton jutted out his knife, and skewered the floating eye.
Its veins struggled for a bit, then fell taught. The floating eye glazed over, and Morton used one claw to flick it into the campfire. You vile thing! he thought.
"ARE WE DONE YET?" Morton called to the wilderness, yawning a moment later. "CAN I REST?"
An arrow thudded into the ground an inch away from his feet.
"GUESS NOT…" Morton said quietly as he faced his foe. There, hiding in the darkness, was a blocky skeleton, with an empty mouth and hollow eye sockets, a leather quiver on its backbone brimming with arrows of a wooden shaft, flint tips, and feathered ends, clutching a wooden bow! Since they were archers, skeletons were a deadlier Undead than zombies, and in groups with other skeletons, or at least other monsters, they could prove dangerous. And, sadly for Morton, the latter was the case.
Another groan alerted Morton to four more zombies approaching from his left, each wearing a different piece of chainmail armor—one had a helmet, another had a chestplate, the third had leggings, and the fourth had boots, plus a shackle like the one Morton wore on its arm. Looking up, Morton then saw two more floating eyes flying above him, and soon a third joined them.
Uh-oh.
The skeleton raised a loaded bow and fired at Morton. Morton ducked and rolled in his shell towards the long grass, but was suddenly hit by something—a floating eye. His shell got stuck in a pothole in the dirt, and so he stayed there, spikes up, as three arrows and a floating eye attack bounced off him. He was thinking of just sitting here to rest, feeling invincible in his armor, but then the hands of the four zombies all grasped different corners of his shell, and began to yank upwards.
Morton's mind went bonkers with thoughts, but with the whispers of insanity taking up place in there as well, he could only make out, Are they trying to flip me over?
Grragh!
Gruhuhuhhh…
Grah! Grrah! Grrrahhhh!
The zombies lifted up at once, and Morton was brought up from the ground and flipped over. The zombies began to beat down on him with their arms, wearing away at his chestplate and making it hard to breathe. Morton heard the rattle of bones, but couldn't see anything, with his eyes closed and being in his shell. He felt a sharp kick at his tail-hole, then a hiss, and right after, an arrow struck him in the middle of his chestplate. More groaning from the zombies and more click-clacity -ing from the skeleton, and following that, he felt the zombies grasp his boots and what was poking out of his hands. The zombies began to pull, and Morton winced over and over as the zombies yanked at him painfully. Eventually, the zombies freed his golden boots from his feet, and there was a howl of success and excitement.
Sensing trouble, Morton kicked out his legs, which hit his boots and sent them sailing into the zombies that were at his feet. Next, Morton punched out his arms, smacked away the claws of a zombie (which earned him a pierce in his palm), grabbed the ground with his hands, and flipped himself over, then retracted into his shell and kept rolling until he slammed into the zombie to his right. He kept rolling still, running over the zombie entirely as it was knocked over, and once he felt himself land on the actual ground, he jumped up and swung his flint knife aimlessly for a second before observing everything.
The zombie he rolled over was twice-dead on the ground in front of him, and it had been the one with the leggings. To his left was the zombie with the chestplate, and to his right was the skeleton, who was hiding behind the zombie with the boots, and the zombie with the helmet. There was a floating eye above his safe spot, but when it saw him, it flew away to join its friends still watching from above.
After seeing all of that in a half a second, Morton threw confidence to the four winds and stabbed the boots zombie through with his shell spikes. He felt an arrow whizz past his ear, and in response he turned, side-hopped an arrow, and ran at the skeleton, the zombie with the boots still stuck on his back. The helmet zombie got in the way of Morton and the skeleton, prompting the skeleton to flee, an opportunity it did take, but not before shooting an arrow, missing by a mile, and then reloading.
Morton put his head forward as the zombie clawed, and its attacks only scraped his helmet's spike. The zombie backed up, but Morton jabbed it with his helmet, and then cut it twice more with his knife before ending the zombie with another shell bash, which also dislodged the zombie that was stuck on it.
Bam! Morton was punched in the stomach by the chestplate zombie. Growling himself, Morton zig-zagged the zombie's feeble swings before lunging at the zombie's head, striking it, and finally elbowing the zombie into his campfire. The Undead crashed into the flame, igniting itself and sending embers and blazing sticks everywhere. Morton was once again thankful for his armor as the burning objects fell to the ground after bumping into him, for otherwise he would be suffering even more right now. The zombie's corpse slumped down against the boulders, then fell sideways and died again, taking the campfire with it.
Darkness returned to the area, and Morton prepared to rebuild his campfire, but three small shadows over the boulders made him look up to see the three floating eyes positioning themselves to attack at different angles. All at once, they shot down, hitting Morton left and right, and Morton only hit one with his knife! The harmed one flew away towards the safe spot, while the other two flew around Morton in circles, trying to find an opening.
Morton gritted his teeth, his body paranoid, not wanting to be hit again—those floating eyes hurt a lot, and they had given him many purple bruises under his armor, even if he didn't know since he hadn't checked yet.
Quick as a household fly, one of the eyes attacked. Morton swung his knife, and somehow parried the floating eye's attack, sending the eye spiraling backwards. Morton ran after it, with the other floating eye missing its attack because of this action. Morton caught up with the evil thing and jabbed it, knocking it to the ground. It began to fly up again, but Morton swung his knife sideways across the floating eye's pupil, and it spun in a flat circle for a second before dropping dead, letting loose some more blood. A shiny, transparent, crystal-like item flew from the floating eye's pupil as it fell, and then the eye went still, its pupil contracting.
Morton wanted to grab the treasure, but the other floating eye was still after him. It whacked his shoulder, then did a cartwheel in the air to get away from him. Opening his mouth in a silent cry, Morton jumped up and brought his knife down on the top of the eye. The floating eye squirmed in the air before colliding with the boulders, which drove Morton's knife even further into it as Morton hung onto his weapon. Morton took out his flint knife, and the floating eye rolled down into the remains of the campfire, coming to a stop next to the fallen zombie's legs.
"HUH…*huff, puff*...HUH…ERRGH. *puff*" Morton wheezed, trying to take solid breaths as he sat down. He ate some more berries, then, after another moment, headed over to the shiny object.
He picked it up and flipped it over repeatedly between his thumb and his pointer finger. The object was so thin it was practically 2D, like paper, but a little thicker. It looked more like glass on closer inspection, with an oval shape, light-blue outline, and a tint of light-gray in one corner. It caught the moonlight from all angles, making it glow white a small amount. It kind of reminded Morton of his yellow gem, and once again he felt an urge to track down Vincent and get it back.
Morton plopped the prize into his shell, paused, and took it out again. Shaking his head, he went over to the other twice-dead zombies, got his golden boots and put them back on, and after that he climbed inside the boulder circle, set the "eye crystal," as he decided to call it for the time, down on a stone, and then took out his leftover grass and his berry bush leaves. He struggled a bit, but eventually he wove the materials into a pouch bigger than his hand. He used his knife to dig out a pebble from under a boulder and made it into the clasp of the pouch. He had leftover resources, though, and so made two more, both almost identical to the first.
Morton laid the pouches out in front of himself, with all of them open. After some thinking, he removed the Nightmare Fuel from his shell and put it, along with the "eye crystal" and his last gel glob (it was purple) in one pouch. Next, he took out his berry bundles and put the rest of them in the second pouch, as company with the few spare pebbles and cut grass he had left, plus his two water cups, one of which was empty. The third pouch was empty, but that was because he thought of putting any truly interesting oddities inside it; the first pouch held things from creatures, and the second one had food and materials. It made sense to him, at least. As a plus, his shell was now empty (besides some slime residue from King Slime a few days ago), and he could move around in it a lot better, even with his clunky armor bogging him down.
Morton put his knife in his sheath and clipped on his first and third pouch, with the second one being separated from the others by his copper bow. Next, he stood and peered outside the safe spot. He looked left, then right. That skeleton and the third floating eye were both out there somewhere, waiting for him. He just knew it.
I could sit and wait a while until day breaks…Morton thought. He looked to the sky. The moon had barely risen. But that would be a while. It would be better to sleep…but then again, I could be attacked. He glanced at the boulders around him. I would also need to make a roof and a door for this spot, otherwise monsters could get in. Sr. always made stuff like that from sticks and…wood. Wood! I have plenty of it all around me! All I need is…an axe. Yes, an axe! Sr.'s recipe required two sticks, three rocks, and some grass to make some rope…yes. Yes yes yes! That's just what I need! And it would help protect me, too. With my armor on, I could run up to those zombies and obliterate them with one swing! I will create the biggest, bestest, shiniest axe any Koopa could ever imagine—
A high-pitched, slightly squeaky hiss made Morton's head point forward. There, Morton saw two red, glowing eyes peering from an evergreen that was large, its branches scraping the ground as it moved in the summer wind. Then a third eye showed itself as the creature got closer, and all of a sudden there were eight red eyes staring at Morton dead on.
Morton's own eyes widened, a sense of dread skittering down his spine. He took a quick once-over to his quiver that rested against his safe spot, then looked back at the eyes. Each one narrowed, one after the other, and the tree began to shake as the collection of eyes lowered itself down the tree.
Very, very slowly, Morton began to walk backwards in the direction of his quiver, patting his copper bow and sheath with his knife to give his hands something to do instead of opening and closing nervously. The eyes in the tree stopped moving and seemed even brighter now. Morton glimpsed at his chestplate to see the eight eyes reflecting off the bronze alloy, which gave him another shiver down his spine.
Another hiss, and then Morton swiveled and ran, grabbed the quiver, notched an arrow, slung his quiver over his shell, and turned to face the possible threat. As he did, the face of a giant black spider revealed itself from the tree—the owner of the eight red eyes—and then the monster's entire body revealed itself as it dropped from its abode and slowly advanced.
The giant spider was three feet tall, compared to Morton's five-and-a-half, but as it walked on its eight spindly legs all tipped with sharp, slate-colored claws, its abdomen shook and raised itself up to its tallest height, at six feet. The giant spider's mandibles moved up and down as it got closer to Morton, and it hissed again. If spiders could grin evilly, it did.
And then it jumped.
Larry's POV:
Larry climbed out of his shell and sat down next to Iggy. "T-thank you," he told Lavabake and the gray Yoshi. "Lavabake, and…sorry, I didn't catch ye name…"
"Andesite," said the gray Yoshi proudly, sticking a thumb into their chest. "You're welcome."
"Yeah," Lavabake replied to Larry. "I would've saved anybody in that situation." His words seemed hard to get out.
"Is your, well…I'm sorry about your tongue," said Larry, his face pinched up with a feeling he could not place. "I didn't mean to pierce it or anythin'."
Lavabake shook his head slowly. Larry thought he saw a smile, but if he did, it was gone when Lavabake lifted his head to speak. "It's fine, Larry. That's your name, right?"
Larry nodded. The two shook hands, then Larry sat back down.
"I wonder how many people saw that action scene," muttered Iggy.
"Probably not much," Andesite responded, even though Iggy had directed his words to Larry, "the windows in Tower Isle are so dang small. We should probably make them wider, I'll bet. I mean, I work on this more than living life on Yoshi's Island. Haha!"
Larry couldn't tell how honest that laugh was, but right now, that was the least of his problems.
"What about you, Iggy?" asked Larry. "You good?"
Iggy's mouth tightened. Then he said, "Good enough for my body to function properly without medical aid. I am just a little shaken, I figure."
Larry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Being so specific with your words ain't gonna help none either. If you don't use a "big word" every sentence, I won't care. The Yoshis won't care. No one gonna care. You just SURVIVED A REAPER! Never heard of that before, huh? C'mon, talk like a normal sheller!"
Iggy managed a smile to return, but then both of theirs vanished right after. Iggy opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as Finnian climbed onto the outlook with a mixed expression.
"Finn?" asked Larry.
Finnian grinned. "Yo, Iggy."
Oh. Seriously? thought Larry, slightly annoyed. Oh, shush, myself. I saved Iggy. I didn't…lose another person. Another one who is important to me. If I did…if I lost my grip there…Iggy would be a goner. I may not be blamed by others, but…well…I'd hate myself, that's what. He's the fourth and final soul in this life that I TRULY care about. He can't die. He can't.
"Larry?" Finnian asked him, lightly tapping on the strange blue star birthmark on the side of his head. "You there?"
Larry blinked a few times, embarrassed. Lost in my thoughts again. Errrgh. "I guess so, Finn."
"Did you hear what I told Iggy?"
Larry shrugged. "Nope."
Finnian laughed. "A lot of people saw the Reaper Leviathan confrontation! They saw Iggy's skills with the Yoshi sailboat, yes, but most of all they saw you save him!"
"Don't forget about Lavabake and Andesite," Larry said, flicking a claw to the Yoshis. "I'd be a pancake if it weren't for 'em."
"Me too," Iggy called.
"I bet both of ya would taste terrible," Andesite called jokingly.
"At least I'd be cooked!" Larry said back, thinking back to all the times he and Finnian would get a sunburn when they went out fishing with Morcant and the crew.
"Well, I'd be a sun-dried pancake!" Iggy wheezed. "Ever string up a palm frond hammock in the treetops and just lie there with utmost comfort for a day?"
"YES!" Lavabake said, then winced at his bleeding tongue, which he needed to get checked.
"Let's go patch up your tongue, eh, Lavabake?" said Andesite. Lavabake nodded.
"Ah, about that…" Finnian said, which stopped the Yoshis in their tracks. "Everyone in the tower 'ere got word of the Reaper attack. They all wants to congratulate ye four!"
"They do?" Iggy started. "But all I did in reality was—"
"Less blabber, more fame, friend!" Larry said. His insides were exploding with excitement. Will I become a celebrity for saving everyone's beloved scientist? Or would he…? No, he doesn't want the fame! At least, for that. He wants it for his inventions, and learning about the Ancients or whatever. He glanced at Lavabake and Andesite, who were looking at each other, smiles across their faces. Lavabake deserves the praise. Otherwise, Iggy and I probably would be in the afterlife. At least I'd meet the Star Spirits. But would Iggy? He should…but he doesn't follow a religion…I'M GETTING OFF TRACK!
Andesite didn't do much, though. He just helped Lavabake. I guess he deserves some praise. Their faces imply they haven't gotten, or even seen, much of it before. Neither have I, though! Sure, I have the Nameless Blade in possession, and some people call me lucky to be in a relationship with Alex Crafter. That's just local fame, though.
Okay, maybe I have more. I survived the infamous Mega Blooper attack. Only Finnian, that one Goomba, and I did that. And I do look a lot different than other Koopas. I'm on good terms with Morcant and his crew, as well as some of the rich traders, like my dealings with all of those Purple Groupers we caught some week or so ago.
So maybe I am more famous than I think. Right? But fame usually brings fans. Money. Treasure, for all I know! I have four "fans:" Alex, Finnian, Iggy, and Mariam. Money? I have 300 copper, 100 silver, 15 gold, and just one platinum in my chest at home on Packim Island; the number is always changing, too, especially for my gold. Keep on converting it to silver for payments. Most of that was collected by my parents, though, not me! Besides the Purple Groupers the other day, Morcant's fishing crew almost never get a lot of good fish, and even if we do, the profits are split among us. Morcant's tax for coming along the trips is pretty cheap, though, and I have some acquaintances there. I wouldn't want to leave.
But treasure. Treasure! I gave Alex that golden cross necklace, and we both have these nice leather belts, and I have my silver sheath—he patted it as he thought, and saw Finnian lead Lavabake, Andesite, and Iggy down the ladder, so he followed very slowly—but all of those costed a lot of coins, and Finnian gave me the silver sheath, anyway. I have the Nameless Blade in my sheath, even right now, but that, too, was left by my parents, and I still don't know if it has any special abilities or whatever. The only thing left that you could consider "treasure" is…that old blue compass that always points north. What's its deal? Nothing. It's just broken junk. Someday I might follow it…or is it just stuck? I dunno…probably worth a lot of money if need be…
Larry stopped thinking about all of this as he went down the wooden ladder, but the compass still didn't leave his mind, even after all the cheers greeted him on the level beneath the top. It seemed that about eighty people had crammed themselves into this floor to congratulate Larry, Lavabake, Andesite, and Iggy—Koopas waved and gave them high fives, and Yoshis did the same, one even doing one of their signature flutter-jumps. Many Goombas rushed over to the group in question and hopped up and down, and since they didn't have arms, they instead said uplifting things:
"Good job, guys!"
"Wonderful!"
"Must be pretty strong and resilient, Larry! You too, Lavabake, and you gray one!" (Andesite proceeded to correct them.)
"Ey, Iggy! Ne'er 'ear 'bout one survive 'em Reapers! How wassa it? Did it take 'em bite outta ye?"
"Nice reaction time, 'em lads!"
"Hope yer tongue's okay, Lavabake!" (He said it was.)
"WOW."
"Wish my kids saw dat…they didn't get to the window in 'ime. There were too many people dhere already!"
"Awesome, you guys!"
Larry and Iggy exchanged glances that said wow-this-is-cool-but-I-wish-I-had-a-super-remote-to-tune-it-down-or-something! Larry was a lot more enthusiastic about being swarmed by pedestrians than Iggy was, though, and while he flashed a charming yet playful grin, Iggy kept his mouth a sealed smile, and his eyes were rapidly darting back and forth between his temporary admirers, as if he didn't know what to do with them.
Larry glanced over and saw Andesite and Lavabake drinking up the praise more than he did, which made him feel warm inside. They didn't get recognition like this a lot, and while Larry had after the Mega Blooper attack for a while, it was never to this scale. And he liked it. He loved it. Something inside clicked, and he felt as if he could never get enough of this. He would never mind something like this happening again, and he thought he might even try to do something heroic again if it meant praise like this.
In the back, he saw Finnian egging everyone on, smiling as he did, and it must've been working, because suddenly a young Koopa Troopa with leather boots and a shell the color of grass in spring came forward, clutching a burlap sack that was almost made of leather. It and the Koopa Troopa both showed some wear and tear, but nonetheless the Koopa pushed the burlap sack into Larry's open hands, smiled, and ran off to two older Koopas, presumably her parents. From that distance, she gave a nod to Larry, still looking eager. Larry grinned in return, then looked down at the burlap sack and opened it. Immediately, his face was painted with golden swirls as Larry gazed in wonder at the shining one hundred golden coins within, with some copper and silver coins thrown in for good measure. Larry looked up at the Koopa Troopa girl and her parents and nodded ecstatically, closing his grin and smirking instead to look more grateful. The Koopa Troopa family beamed, especially the daughter, and Larry felt warm again.
Fame really is profitable, he thought to himself.
GEAAARERRRRRRERRRRRRRRR!
The celebration stopped. A second later, everyone tried to get to a window, while Larry immediately pushed the burlap sack into his shell before grabbing the wooden ladder's rungs and climbing out onto the overlook once more. This time, he found one of the nice spy glasses. Extending it, he ran to the edge with the direction of the Reaper Leviathan's roar and scanned the water. There, on the horizon, he spotted the now-unforgettable shadow of the Reaper Leviathan swimming away. It was heading north, and if it kept going, it would pass the rest of the island in Whirlpool Archipelago in that direction and return to deeper waters—its home. They were safe now. The Archipelago…was SAFE.
North. North. The Reaper Leviathan is going north, just like my old compass, Larry theorized. Could the two be connected? It would be unlikely, but…well, maybe not unlikely? I vaguely remember my parents telling me they found it "out north…" No. It's probably just a coincidence. The Reaper Leviathan lives in deep waters, and deeper waters are the majority or the Great Ocean, and the Great Ocean is mostly north of here, AND IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT THE COMPASS IS STUCK POINTING NORTH.
But what if?
Larry came back down a level via the ladder. Most of the people that were there before were still there, even if they looked terrified. Larry decided to change that.
"The Reaper Leviathan has left us now!" Larry announced, making sure not to use any slang or improper Koopa Commontongue in his speech, something he also wanted to do from now on. If he was going to be famous for saving Iggy, and then for presumably more, greater things, he had to be a celebrity worth sponsoring, following, and congratulating; otherwise, he would have said "Dat Reaper has hightailed outta 'ere!" Words are everything. He knew he was kicking his past in the butt when he said this, but he could change, right? It was sudden, for sure, but it would give him more fame, and then, in turn…wealth.
That was what he needed. What Finnian needed. What Mariam needed. What Alex needed—what his life with her needed. Otherwise, it was fishing forever. Sure, he was good at it, as well as being good at steering boats, like Rock the Yoshi had said almost two hours ago, but doing it for the rest of his life? That was not ideal. Instead, he liked to picture himself like that rich Koopa Troopa merchant he sold those Purple Groupers to a while ago. For example, his shell would be painted purple in a way so realistic that everyone would laid their eyes on him would be convinced to think his shell really was purple, or at least had turned that way somehow; purple shells were very rare for Koopa Troopas, and they were notoriously famous for being rich and born with a silver spoon in their mouth, so to speak.
But why stop there? Larry's mind went rampant as he spaced out again. Alex would wear a shining vest of whale blubber; hers would be adorned with emeralds, diamonds, and ambers all encircled with platinum that glowed like moonlight, and those rings were then encircled with reflective gold lining. Her's would be dyed to red, orange, yellow and more to look like flames roaring with love and beauty, which also matched her redhead gift, and the whole thing would be crafted delicately, like her as a person. She would also wear shorts woven from multicolored corals thinned out like leather, ones that eternally were kept alive by who knows what. She would still keep her black boots, but they would be fine-tuned with the hide of, oh, say, a Reaper Leviathan at this point, except the skin of the beast would be textured like the Great Ocean at night, with all of the stars reflecting off the shiny black surface—just how Larry liked it. No, loved it. Alex would also wear that special cross necklace of hers, yet with their newfound fortune it would always shine bright like a flashlight and never show dents or scratches or grit unless they wanted it to for some reason. In fact, all of their belongings would be like that, once Larry was famous.
Speaking of himself, Larry pictured himself in a starry robe manufactured from the nighttime waters, one that had a low-cut triangle in the top center. The robe would trail along if he liked, and would always feel warm and cozy, no matter who wore it. His cartoon wave-like mohawk would never waver in the wind, water, or other elements unless he wanted it to, either, and his two overbite fangs would each be embedded with pearls that also were like the twilit Great Ocean. Seeing a theme here? His sandals would also be replaced with ones woven of golden wool, and made no sound except a soft, sleep-inducing hum. His silver sheath would be upgraded to platinum, inscribed with magical runes, and the Nameless Blade would be polished and powerful, yet never used unless for a mock fight for a show.
But, once again, why stop there, huh? Clothing and appearance weren't the only thing. With their future filthy fortune, he would order Blooper slaves that had wronged him in the past to build him an underwater palace made of aqua crystals of many a chiseled design, glass that shimmered like sunlit waves on a quaint seaside morning, and, for the final time, glittered like the Great Ocean at night when that time actually arrived. The glass would switch modes seamlessly and satisfyingly as well.
The air inside the palace and the surrounding lands and oceans would smell moist yet inviting, like chlorine mixed with gasoline, and a hint of Bath & Body Works soap, even though Larry didn't know that part. The area around his and Alex's palace would be free of hostile sea creatures and were instead overpopulated with friendly ones, and Purple Groupers too for good measure.
Larry and Alex would live like a king and queen, their fish servants, butlers and/or slavers doing the hard work for them, even though there wouldn't be much. Things would just be too great. He and Alex would read tall tales and myths and novels from an almost endless library every day. They would eat chocolate versions of all good foods without worry of their health, which would stay superb with special potions they would buy. They'd drink coconut shakes and watermelon smoothies and soup made from the rarest herbs. They'd sleep in silk beds that regenerated their health and sanity. Sanity! No Nightmare Creatures would be there. No shadow, darkness, insanity at all. They'd just be too happy.
Everyone would want to see the marvelous treasures they had in frames or shelves throughout their palace. Everyone would be kind to them, because he and Alex were always ever so kind in return. And, of course, he and Alex and their possible children would share their wealth with Finnian and Mariam, and maybe Iggy, Wagstaff, Morcant, or the Yoshi tribe, too, if they wanted in on the fun.
It would be perfect.
Then Larry came back to his senses, remembering he was making a speech to grow a fanbase, a community. If he wanted his dreams to be reality, he had to start somewhere.
"Ya mean it died?" asked a Goomba from the crowd. He had some tusk piercings (since Goombas didn't have much else to pierce) and was sitting next to Finnian and the Koopa Troopa family that gave Larry the burlap sack full of coins.
I should have worded that differently, instead of "...has left us", Larry thought, wincing, but not visibly. No. That wouldn't look good at all for the onlookers. His possible "fans." He had to appear strong.
"Alas, despite my hopes, it hasn't," said Larry, letting out a fake defeated sigh. Tttthhhhere we go, myself! Keep that up! No cringey or nervous talk! Not from now on! Not in public, at least…I could with Alex or Finnian, though. Iggy too, I guess. He could teach me advanced talk. Mariam, maybe? For talking un-advanced-ly…that isn't a word! "But it has retreated to deeper waters north of us, into the heart of the Great Ocean!" I think?
"To the Dunes it went, then?" Iggy said. "Most live there. One of the most dangerous places in the known Great Ocean! And because of that, it is one of the safest," he added jokingly. Some people chuckled at that, even though the scientist was right.
"Yes, yes, my friend who I saved," Larry said, nodding. "With the help of Lavabake, the red Yoshi, and Andesite, the gray one." He added that to appear more generous.
"Well, if the threat has been vanquished, you may all return home! Spread the news throughout Tower Isle!" Iggy preached with overenthusiasm. Larry thought he said that only because he wanted everyone to stop staring at him for something he didn't feel like he was responsible for. Larry made the choice to help his friend.
"Yeah, and do so quickly!" he said. Shouldn't've said "yeah." "Affirmative" would have been sufficient. He smiled. I would have to change the rest of the wording slightly, if I said that. "The 300th Big Bazaar of Whirlpool Archipelago is tomorrow, folks! Get everything ready! It will be fantastic; I just know it! Unlike anything we've seen before."
He didn't know how real that statement would become.
"Go on now!" Andesite called, and loud cheers went up as everyone on the level filed down the wooden ladder, spreading the news. Lavabake and Andesite left halfway through the crowd's departure, and eventually it was just Iggy and Larry remaining on the penultimate level of Tower Isle.
"Welp," Larry said with a shrug. He brushed some sand off his white robe. "Meet up at Packim Island tomorrow in the evening? The Big Bazaar doesn't start until the sun sets and the moon reigns."
"Those are some big words for you, Larry." Iggy said, strutting over. He coughed into his elbow.
"Yeah, I know," he said with a grin. "I won't convert into a noble person, but I'd like you to teach me some fancier talk, ey? Need to put a good show on for ma spectators. Fame brings wealth, right?"
Iggy averted his eyes from Larry. "You do know that once I get back to Yoshi's Island with the rest of my Yoshi friends the day after the Big Bazaar, I could send you some fruit and what not to trade for money? I could maybe even get you some now, or trade it myself and give you the money. I don't need it. The Yoshi Tribe has enough materials for my science projects and experiments, Larry."
Larry shrugged again. "You can if you'd like. But trust me, Iggy. I'll get there someday. You'll see."
"I hope so," said Iggy.
There was an awkward pause.
"C'mon. Let's get outta here before the boats all leave. You can come on my Yoshi sloop with Alex and Mariam, since the sailboat was turned to dust by that Reaper Leviathan, alright?"
Iggy managed a smile and followed Larry down the tower. For the entirety of the voyage back to Savior Island and Chum Rocks, though, Larry couldn't help but theorize if there was something up with Iggy that he wasn't leading on to.
Morton's POV:
Morton leapt to the side, but all too slowly. The giant spider's claws struck red across his unprotected arms before landing behind him, then quickly it spiraled to face him, shifting back and forth on its legs, waiting for Morton to face it.
Morton hit the dirt, still clutching his copper bow. He rolled over on his back, then rolled some more to face the arachnid. He watched its mandibles squirm, all eight eyes focusing on him. It made him feel very uneasy. He'd seen spiders as big as his hand out at one of the shacks on Redpepper Mesa, and he saw a tiny one once on his early expeditions through this forest, one which was starting to feel endless.
The large spider inched forward. Morton rolled into a crouch and aimed his loaded copper bow at the spider. His hands shook with sweat and fear. The giant spider reared up and let out a hiss that tore through the night. Its clawed legs crashed down, and Morton ran backwards, standing up as he did. The giant spider scurried after him and pounced. It landed on Morton's helmet, keeping away from the spike. Its furry legs dangled over his vision, and he screamed. He shook and jumped, and the giant spider fell onto the ground. Morton dug his heel into the ground and spun to face the threat. He kicked it as it tried to get up, and it fell on its back, legs out like a horrific starfish.
Now, what Morton should've done to end the fight without more injuries on his side would have been to face behind himself and fall down, piercing the giant spider's exposed belly with his shell-spikes. However, he didn't want to get any closer to that thing than he needed, and so he tried to aim his bow to shoot it. He lined it up with the exact middle of the beast, but before he could fire, the giant spider's abdomen pulsed, and a strand of sticky white silk fired out and wrapped itself around Morton's lower half like a teether ball that had been hit so hard it wrapped all the way around the post.
The silk fanned out into a cobweb with four points, with two uneven strands connecting the points with the inner circle of the web, solidifying Morton to the ground as if the Koopa had fallen into a bucket of drying concrete.
"ER-UGH!" Morton spat, fumbling with the bow. He released the arrow, and it went wide, striking down a berry bush in the distance.
The giant spider's legs twitched, and then it rolled back onto them. Its red eyes spotted its prey, and it screeched hungrily.
"NO!" Morton commanded. "NO, NO…"
The big spider crawled closer.
"GET BACK!" Morton's eyes stretched into big circles. His three black strips of hair on his head stood straight like that teether post from earlier. He bared his fangs at the creature, but instead of a growl like he wanted, another whimper came out.
The tips of the claws on the giant spider's forelegs tapped the web.
"PLEASE-Y?" Morton squirmed, but he only got stuck more. His arms moved backwards, and the web latched onto his elbows. Morton couldn't move his arms with that, and thus he couldn't reach his quiver, which was also connecting to the cobweb with strands of silk latching onto its bottom.
The giant spider hissed.
Morton blinked.
The giant spider screeched and sprang onto Morton. Its bottom four legs gripped his legs and the web, while the farther-most two struck his shoulders, and the inner two pierced his muzzle. Its eyes looked like rubies sprinkled with caviar from this close, and Morton caught sight of eight terrified "himself's" squirming in each eye's reflection. The giant spider's mandibles and fangs spread apart to reveal even more mandibles and fangs, each one itching for his fresh blood and plump body to feast on. It screeched in his face again, which was even more terrifying with all those sharp things just inches away from Morton's open eyes.
Morton let out a blood curdling scream at the terrifying sight in front of him. The spider reached its head forward, trying to sink its fangs into his fleshy muzzle.
"NOT TODAY!" Morton yelled in its face and turned the tables on the creature and sank his fangs, especially his four overbite ones, into the spider's face. Sure, it did look weird, chiefly from a distance, but it got the job done. The giant spider jumped off of Morton, dazed, and Morton saw that one of its eyes was glistening more than usual.
He had struck through it.
Just then, the temporary cobweb finally gave in, and it broke apart into sticky goop; a few strands of silky web could be salvaged, though, Morton thought. At least, if I survive this fight!
Morton bolted from his broken prison, passing by the giant spider as he crossed the clearing to his safe spot—the ring of boulders. He heard the claws of the giant spider's legs clack on some of the exposed stone around his safe spot as it galloped after him, only greatening his sense of urgency. Quickly, he loaded an arrow, wheeled around, and shot the spider in the face—specifically, the jaw. The giant spider screeched and spun in the air, landing on the rocks before Morton. Its arched legs buckled, and Morton readied and fired another arrow. It landed in the spider's back, and blood beaded from the wound. The giant spider hissed and clawed at random, and Morton notched another arrow. The giant spider saw this, though, gathered that Morton was going to shoot it again, and instead it ran off into the woods. Morton wanted to fire an arrow into its abdomen and probably take it out, but just as he lined up his shot, that third floating eye returned and smacked Morton in the cheek.
"SON OF A SUNBURNED SAND SCORPION!" Morton snapped, a common curse of his and Sr.'s, based off of the big, black scorpions from the caves that used to terrorize them. The last encounter with one had been when they arrived at the shack with the Dragonfly and lava and…yeah, you know the drill.
Morton rotated in place, trying to catch sight of the flying fiend. Eventually, he saw it, and he shot his arrow. Amazingly, it struck the floating eye, and the vile thing fell from the sky and splattered on a boulder.
"HAHA…HEH…"
Morton's ears were overcome with whispers, and then they receded. He thought he saw the shimmering form of something in the distance, but if he did, it soon faded out. His vision lost some color, and he blinked three times fast. The effects still remained.
That giant spider really gave my sanity a beating, he told himself, kicking a pebble across the clearing. He rubbed his arms, bumping into the shackle on his right one. He felt around his muzzle, too. Bits of blood were smeared here and there, and he did his best to wipe it off.
SQUAKISH HISSSSS…
RATTLE RATTLE-A-AT-RATTLE TATTLE.
Slowly, Morton watched as the toughest enemy of the night yet emerged from the trees and jumped down onto the ground. The spider from before was being ridden by the skeleton that had arrived with the last wave of zombies, and then had fled when its bumbling bodyguards fell.
They were now called a spider jockey, as most Koopas, Goombas, and others said, and they both agreed on vengeance via Morton's demise.
"OH, UM, HELLO…" Morton said with a mock wave. "I ASSUME YOU ALSO WANT ME DEAD?"
The skeleton's cracked jaw grinned and fired an arrow.
"WHOA THERE!" Morton exclaimed as the arrow hit his chestplate and broke into pieces.
The giant spider hissed and charged as its rider notched an arrow. Morton did the same, even though he had no terrible beast to ride into battle on. Someday, maybe? he thought.
The spider jockey was almost a foot away from Morton when Morton fired, blowing some of the skeleton's ribcage off. It let out a startled rattle, and the spider jockey twirled in place before pouncing towards a tree.
"OH NO YAH DON'T!" Morton cried after the spider jockey. He shot an arrow and, just as he hoped now and had hoped before, it struck the spider in the pulsing abdomen, knocking it onto its side. Its skeleton rider was thrown off, and several bits of bone flew from their owner.
"BLAHAHA!" Morton cackled before stopping short to fit another arrow into his copper bow, which was looking a little beat-up now.
The giant spider writhed before bouncing onto its feet, even if it did so shakily. It focused its red gaze on Morton. It screeched, ready to kill, and ran at Morton, apparently ditching the whole spider jockey idea. The skeleton archer and former rider made a disapproving grunt at this as it stood up, wobbling.
The spider launched a streak of silk at Morton, one being tainted red after being shot with an arrow in the abdomen. Morton hopped to the side of the silk streamer, and watched it unravel into a measly clump of web that looked like the inner white cloth of a typical bandage after several days of use.
"GOTTA WORK ON YOUR SKILLS, FAT SPIDER!" Morton said with a shaky laugh as insanity pressed in around him. He saw Mr. Skits, but only for a second as the skeleton entered his view and fired, hitting his helmet spike, causing it to shatter. Even still, Morton was knocked off balance, and the giant spider tackled him to the ground. It clawed and bit at his armor with reckless abandon, so Morton rolled around, and eventually one of the spider's legs caught on one of his outer shell-spikes. With a hiss of triumph, Morton squashed the giant spider into the ground with his weight and shell-spikes. Finally, he got up and shook. The giant spider's remains collapsed behind him, and his sanity was mostly restored after killing the awful creature. But he wasn't done for the night yet.
The skeleton advanced on him, firing three arrows in record time, one struck his boot, one hit his chestplate, and the third missed and hit a boulder. Morton reached into his quiver to return the attack, but came up empty-handed. Shoot, I'm out of arrows!
The skeleton fired again, and this arrow went between Morton's legs. Morton's eyes were still following the arrow, though, and so his sight landed on his belt, which moved to his oversized sheath.
"YES!" Morton said to no one. He dropped his copper bow, dodged another arrow, and whipped out his flint knife. It gleamed in the moonlight as he spun in a circle towards the poor skeleton. It shot an arrow, but it only bounced off Morton's shell. Morton kept twirling as he drove into the skeleton, breaking bones. Then, finally, with a roar like a Koopa King, he diagonally slashed the skeleton's backbone, and the monster crumbled before him. Its quiver was released and rolled to Morton's feet, spilling out some arrows for Morton to use.
The long fight was done.
Morton gathered the arrows and tossed them in his quiver. He then went around the clearing, picking up sticks, flint, and feathers from broken arrows to craft new ones, and he salvaged any other ones he could find. He slipped his copper bow back onto his belt, slid his knife into that too-big sheath, and then searched for more goodies. The only new things he turned up with after a thorough search, unfortunately, were just some strands of silk. He put them in his first pouch with the "eye crystal" and glop of Nightmare Fuel.
After all that, Morton wanted to rest within his safe spot, so he ventured out to the tall grass to gather some more for a grass mat bedroll, or something like that, since he didn't have enough in his second pouch already. He popped a few roasted berries into his mouth, feeling celebratory, even though he had no one to share it with besides Mr. Skits; the little shadow was watching him from a distance, but Morton was oblivious to that fact.
He came to a stop at the healthy vegetation. He wiped some summer sweat from his brow, thinking about how he now had arachnophobia, which didn't help in steadying his frantic heartbeat. He took out his flint knife and sawed off some grass, so much so that he couldn't stuff it all in his second pouch and so tucked the rest of his harvest under his elbow. Humming, he started to back away from the tall grass.
HISSSSSSSSSSS…
Morton's eyes widened again. Oh gosh no, not another fat spider!
But it was not a giant spider that parted the grass in its approach, but a four legged, blocky creature with a face etched into its leafy body that resembled a frozen scream. Morton remembered the monster from the grassland, and how it blew up, and presumably also blew up the path he followed a while ago. He remembered it not quite fast enough, though, and only as it ballooned, quaked, and turned white as snow did his legs start to move.
There was a bright flash.
BBBBBBBBLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMM!
New references to games in this chapter:
110. The Reaper Leviathan being referred to as a "Leviathan-class creature" by Iggy is a reference to how that is actually how it is in Subnautica; as well, the Reaper Leviathan's use of echolocation, and also how it jumped out of the water a bit to attempt to catch prey, are both behaviors of the creature in actual Subnautica, too
111. Zombies wearing armor and dropping potatoes is a reference to how they can do so in Minecraft; the look of this particular skeleton was also from Minecraft; same with the giant spider, though its web-shoot ability is from Minecraft: Dungeons; spider jockeys are from vanilla Minecraft
112. The description of the floating eye, or Demon Eye from Terraria, was the standard look of them from that game; the "eye crystal" are Lens from that game, too
113. The roasted berries not helping Morton's sanity too much is just like how the don't in actual Don't Starve
114. Sr.'s recipe for a good axe is in reference to Minecraft's recipe for the stone axe: two sticks, three cobblestones (or rocks in Sr.'s case)
115. The sack of (mainly) gold coins that the Koopa Troopa girl gave to Larry is just like the "small gold coin pouch" Coin Stash in Terraria, though it doesn't USUALLY give that many coins in the real game
116. From Larry's vision of fame and fortune: the "vest of whale blubber" is Don't Starve: Shipwrecked's Blubber Suit, and the dye on it would be Terraria's Intense Flame Dye; the "pearls that also were like the twilit Great Ocean" are Galaxy Pearls from Terraria; the "aqua crystals of many a chiseled design" are Prismarine blocks from Minecraft and Minecraft: Dungeons; for Larry's color-changing glass, for the day, or "glass that shimmered like sunlit waves on a quaint seaside morning," is a transparent version of the Aetherium Brick Wall from Terraria, and the night version, or "glittered like the Great Ocean at night when that time actually arrived," is Terraria's Gold Starry Wall, but transparent, too
117. Spiders dropping silk and skeletons dropping bones are both features from Minecraft