Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Dirbil the Mushroom Man
Dirbil always felt as though he didn’t belong. Dirbil was a myconid, a species of creature made from fungus. Dirbil’s tribe lives deep in the forest, where no traveler ever ventures, save a brave hunter or lost merchant. The glade in which the myconids reside is a beautiful place, and has always been a safe haven for mushroom men like Dirbil. Dirbil is the youngest of his tribe, a sporeling of only 3 years old. Fascinatingly, Dirbil is already full grown, and has been since he can remember.
Dirbil rests against an ancient tree, his legs covered in bumps of mushroom and shelves of fungus. His chest and midsection are covered in barnacle-like growths of toadstools. Creeping further up, two eyes are plopped in the stalk of a massive mushroom that makes up his head. The red and white speckled cap on his head makes the vague shape of a large hat, providing shade for his eyes to be able to see. He sits and dreams of what he could one day be.
Dirbil longs for the open road. He feels that his life is wasted in the colony. He has no desire to become an elder, eventually dying and decaying back to nature. He longs for adventure, though he has no concept of it. The myconids are a quiet people, and have no interest in any such adventures. Myconids are simply not inclined to adventure. But Dirbil is.
On this crisp fall day, something very special happened. Something that no myconid could have possibly expected. On the hunt for a great beast, two unlikely creatures found their way to the glade. A gnome and his creation, an intricate automaton he built to protect him. This gnome is a craftsman, and he and his creation hunt his quarry, a great spider whose venom can burn through the strongest of metals.
Dirbil watches the two crash through the forest, unaccustomed to the dense jungle terrain. He knows that his duty is to report the two to the council of elders, but he hesitates. In fact, he approaches them, wondering what they are doing in the glade. Dirbil has never seen outsiders, only heard stories from the elders.
Dirbil works his way through the brush toward the unusual pair of adventurers. “Hello,” he hums.
Myconids are telepathic. Not entirely silent, they hum talking to one another, but for all intents and purposes they are telepathic.
The gnome, confused and bewildered, inquires, “What in Bergaus’s name was that?”
“Hello. My name is Dirbil. I mean you no harm. I am a myconid of the Almari tribe.”
The gnome whirls around, facing Dirbil, and his automaton raises a silver pistol, aiming it at Dirbil’s head. “You’re a damn mushroom man?”
Dirbil ignores the gnome’s question and asks one of his own, “What leads you to our glade?”
“None of your business rot child. We track a beast that is of no concern to you.”
Dirbil hums again, “It is my duty to report you to the council of elders.”
The gnome responds, “well, looks like we’re going to have to kill you. We don’t have time for your damn elders. I’ll give you two options. Either you don’t leave my sight. Or Loustic here will have to put a bullet in your head. I’m a merciful man but if you try me I will not hesitate to end you.”
Dirbil is giddy. This was his chance for adventure! The gnome cannot see this, as Myconid are famously emotionless looking creatures, but Dirbil immediately blurts out, “I’m happy to join you! What are we looking for?”
The gnome responds, “A great spider. One of the descendants of Lloth herself, a Berian Stinger. Loustic and I need its venom.”
“Fun!”
The gnome glares at the myconid boy, already sick of his childish presence. Loustic lowers his weapon, and begins walking again.
“My name is Marik. What is yours?” asks the gnome.
“Dirbil,” he hums.
“Well Dirbil, are you ready to hunt a spider?”
Dirbil was certainly not ready to hunt a spider, and all three of them knew it. But, Marik at this point had little regard for the life of Dirbil, and Dirbil was looking for any chance at adventure he could get. So Dirbil’s voice spoke clearly in Marik’s head, “I am ready as ever!”
Chapter 2: The Berian Stinger
Dirbil follows behind Marik and Loustic, who walk painfully slowly through the undergrowth. Dirbil was slightly irritated by the wildly slow place of the group, but doesn’t mention it. He was happy to be on this adventure no matter the pace. Dirbil had never seen outsiders before. Loustic seemed to be mute but he was armed to the teeth. He was covered in weapons, daggers, pistols, swords, and one of his arms just had a foot long metal spike attached to it. Marik on the other hand, wore a simple tunic and seemed to have no weapons on him. He kept crouching to the ground, investigating the leaves for the traces of silk that the Berian Stinger had left behind. He placed the bits of silk in his bag, saving it for later. He stood, “Loustic we’re close. Give the kid a dagger.”
Loustic unstrapped a dagger from his body, and tossed it to Dirbil. Dirbil was surprised, and asked, “What is this for?”
“The stinger. Don’t think Loustic and I will do all the work. If you want the spoils you best help us out.”
“Alright. I’ve never used one of these before but I’ll try.”
Marik stopped suddenly, raising his hand for the others to stop. They both stopped, waiting for Marik’s instructions. Marik rose, unsheathing a hidden dagger in his boot. He held the blade ready, coating it with a fluid from a vial on his hip. He crept forward, where Dirbil could now see the entrance to a burrow in the ground. Chattering noises emerged from the hole, and Dirbil was terrified of the beast within. He removed the dagger from its sheath and fell into line behind Marik and Loustic who were preparing to enter the creature’s lair. Marik whispered to Loustic something Dirbil couldn’t understand. Suddenly, Loustic grabbed the little mushroom man, and shoved him into the hole, where he came face to face with a spider the size of a large horse. The Berian Stinger chittered, and snapped its pincers menacingly at Dirbil. Spores shot from his head and suddenly, the world went black for Dirbil.
Chapter 3: The Elders
His eyes opened again, and before him lay the body of his slain foe, his dagger planted in the belly of the colossal spider. “Good work little fella,” said Marik.
“Good work?”
“You killed the damn thing. To be honest my friend, we meant for the stinger to kill you in there. But you exceeded my expectations!”
Dirbil’s mind was reeling. He hadn’t killed the thing. But, he wouldn’t deny what Marik had said. This little gnome was the one creature he needed to escape the glade and make his way into the world. “You had such low hopes for me!” Dirbil buzzed.
“Well, myconids certainly aren’t known to be great warriors. But killing a Berian Stinger is no easy feat. How did you know where to pierce its hide? Berians have but the one soft spot on their shell. No other place can be penetrated.”
Dirbil tried his best to process this information but was still completely baffled by how he had unconsciously defeated this dangerous creature. But, questioning it was futile, so he had little choice but to accept it.
“What now?” he asked.
“Well, Loustic and I have to head back to Frostladen Bay to bust our buddy out of the morgue.”
“The morgue?”
“Long story, we’ll get you up to speed on the way.”
As most reasonable creatures would, Dirbil was wildly confused by this statement, but again decided to go along with it. (This will be a general theme of this story.) Wow, the fourth wall has just been broken! Anywho, the party of three with a newly acquired flask of Berian venom set out for the great city of Frostladen Bay. What they didn’t consider was the eyes and ears of the forest, the myconids of the Almari glade that had not let these travelers go unnoticed. And while myconids are not known to be fierce warriors, they are known to protect their glade fiercely and are unlikely to let travelers slip away unnoticed.
Dirbil, his head full of dreams of slaying dragons and defeating ogres, ignored the saying his people often repeated. “Every bush has eyes, and every tree ears. No creature passes through the Almari glade without our knowledge of it.”
A booming voice suddenly rang through the minds of the three adventurers, “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON THE SACRED ALMARI GLADE?”
The source of the voice came into view, and a massive myconid, Lord Berboles, lumbered into sight. He was easily 15 feet tall, and his steps shook the ground as he approached them. Vines quickly struck their legs, and anchored them in place as the party continued to struggle. From behind Berboles, a few dozen myconids quickly surrounded them, snatching up Marik’s and Dirbil’s daggers, and began the long task of removing all of Loustic’s assorted weaponry. Loustic struggled, taking off the head of a poor myconid, but eventually he was left unarmed and defeated. Dirbil knew the punishment for assisting outsiders. He would be sent to the pit, a vast chasm in the earth where all treasonous myconids are sent to die. Dirbil’s adventure had been cut short before he even left the glade, and his head hung low in shame and he hummed to Berboles, “I am sorry my lord. I have betrayed both you and the glade and accept my punishment.”
Marik was not so kind. “Loose these damn vines on me or I’ll have your rotten head! Do you know who I am? I am Marik of Glenhaven, son of Galthor, and my family will destroy you.”
Lord Berboles was unswayed by the threats of the little gnome and echoed back, “YOU HAVE TRESPASSED ON OUR GROUNDS AND MUST BE SENT TO THE PIT.”
Marik looks to Loustic, and says, “I’ve got no clue what the pit is, but it doesn’t sound pleasant.”
All three are picked up by the tribesmen and are taken to the processing center, where they await the verdict of the council.
Chapter 4: Balthazar
All three are placed in the same cell, a tiny space made from intricately woven branches. Loustic pounds on the walls, trying to force them open but he has no luck. The three sit in melancholy, silent. Two myconids stand outside their cell, their backs facing the wooden bars of the cage. Marik finally speaks, “Well, anybody got any ideas?”
Loustic as always is silent, and Dirbil has no response for him. He has failed, and disappointed his sovereign. Marik speaks again this time with a wry smile, “I’m just fooling around. Dirbil your people are not as careful as the stories have made them out to be,” he says, producing the vial of Berian venom they had just acquired.
“Gentlemen, I want to be clear. The second this cage is open, we make west for the open road. This trick will not work twice. Do you understand?”
Loustic and Dirbil both nodded, ready to escape the perilous fate they had landed in. Marik unstoppered the bottle and poured out a single drop. The branch Marik had splashed it onto hissed and immediately the venom cut through, all the way down, creating a long cut in the surface of the wood. Another two placements of venom, and a small doorway had been opened in the cell. Marik gestured Loustic out, where he quickly disposed of the two surprised myconids with a couple well placed strikes.
The party broke into a sprint straight east, and somehow narrowly escaped the dozens of mushroom men sent to apprehend them. They dodged, wove, clambered over mossy rocks, and under downed trees on the wild sprint to freedom. Dirbil’s dreams of dragons and ogres were renewed as they broke through the trees almost a mile later, and he took his first step beyond the glade. The world suddenly felt smaller, and his aspirations became just one step closer to a reality for him.
Chapter 5: Frostladen Bay
Without their possessions, Loustic and Marik felt naked and unprepared for the perils of the open road. Dirbil on the other hand, had never had possessions, he felt free and ready for whatever his life may throw at him. Despite Marik’s apprehensions of traveling unarmed, Frostladen Bay was a mere day’s travel from the edge of the Almari glade. Marik decided it was best to continue to his workshop rather than spend any extra time on the road that may potentially end in peril. “I’m glad you trusted me Mr. Marik.”
“Oh I don’t trust you Dirbil. I tried to kill you and now you have begun following me around. You’re just still here because you somehow managed to kill that spider. That’s all.”
“Oh,” replied a disappointed but unshaken Dirbil, “well thanks for letting me follow you then.”
“Of course my little fungus friend.”
The two were silent for a great while until Dirbil asked, “Why does Loustic not speak?”
“When I first built Loustic he chattered on and on. He was wildly obnoxious, so I decided it would be best if I took his voice away.”
Marik got a bit closer and whispered, “He’s a bit bitter about it so I wouldn’t mention it again around him.”
Loustic glared sullenly at Marik and continued marching off toward the west.
“I think it would be wise to continue through the night, I wouldn’t want to encounter any bandits,” declared Marik.
Dirbil nodded in agreement, and they continued on in silence. Dirbil didn’t mind the silence, he dreamt up what a city would look like. The myconid assigned to him as a caretaker when he was a young sporeling, told him tales that he had heard from outsiders of cities. Great stone walls and towers reaching to the heavens. Great markets, and all manner of folk, dwarves, elves, men, and halflings. Glorious feasts, festivals in the keep, and kings watching over their subjects. Dirbil was fascinated by the idea of civilization and couldn’t wait to see it for himself. He had heard tales of knights and lords, winning the hearts of maidens and slaying evil beasts in the name of the king. Dirbil tried his hardest to keep these fantasies to himself, as he didn’t want to give Marik an excuse to take his voice away too. So, he continued in silence, following the lead of the silver automaton and the little gnome.
Chapter 6: A Heist?
As the sun finally began to rise, the mountains were lit by the red light of dawn, and a golden glow washed over the countryside. The yellow fields and occasional travelers were bathed in a warm radiance. Dirbil quickly became uncomfortable. The light physically pained him. His fungus skin began to grow red, and it grew hotter and hotter until it was nearly unbearable. Dirbil had once heard of this. The elders of the glade had warned young sporelings that the sun would destroy them. He always thought these were false tales told to keep myconids in the glade. He quickly learned they were not lying. A lone tree lay a few hundred feet ahead, and Dirbil ran toward it, leaving a confused Marik and Loustic behind. Dirbil crouched behind the tree, trying to cool himself.
Marik and Loustic finally reached the tree, and Marik questioned, “What is god’s name are you doing?”
“It burns Mr. Marik. The sunlight. It feels as though barbed thorns are piercing my skin.”
“Give me a moment.”
He whistled to Loustic and began to walk away, toward where the city must be. Dirbil was crushed. His first friends had begun to leave him. Again, he thought to himself that his adventuring days were over, and he must return to the glade at sundown. He watched in the distance as they disappeared from sight, his only hope at a great adventure crushed.
A few minutes passed, and all hope was lost for poor Dirbil. He looked to where they had disappeared, and he saw them approaching once more. As they reached closer, he saw Marik clutching something in his hand. It was a cloak.
Marik finally arrived at the tree and gave it to Dirbil, “There you are my fungus friend.”
Dirbil was overjoyed, ringing in Marik’s head, “Mr. Marik, thank you so much! How can I thank you?”
“Help me break my buddy out of the crypt.”
This was the second time Marik had heard this and he was just as confused as the first time. “Of course Mr. Marik!”
They set out once again, the long cloak trailing on the ground behind Dirbil’s little frame. Within the cloak the sun did not harm Dirbil and the party was once again on the move.
A few minutes later, they passed a naked and unconscious man in the middle of the road. Dirbil smiled and realized that Loustic and Marik had robbed this man for him. He smiled, and stepped over the man, grateful that his new companions had decided to look out for him.
Eventually the stone towers and granite walls began to come into view, sitting on a frozen inlet that gave Frostladen Bay its name. Dirbil was fascinated, his expectations exceeded and ready to begin this exciting adventure in Frostladen Bay.
“Welcome to Frostladen Bay Dirbil.”
They approached the grand city gate, and the bustling city within gave hope to Dirbil. The three entered the city, heading to the great workshop of Marik of Frostladen Bay. They walked through crowded streets, Dirbil and Loustic receiving plenty of odd looks. Merchant stalls line the packed walkways, and farmers from the outskirts of town peddle their goods in the market. Dirbil walks slowly, taking in this new experience, wanting to see everything Frostladen Bay has to offer. They finally reached the city square, where Marik’s workshop, an old clock tower rises above the town. Loustic approaches a locked doorway, producing from his metal chest a brass key that slots perfectly into the keyhole. He twists it, and the door pops open with a click. The three walk inside, and the great workshop opens before them, revealing all manner of metal gears, little copper wires, other iron bits and bobs, and even a couple half finished prototypes of animal shaped automatons. “Welcome to my workshop Dirbil.”
“Mr. Marik, this is fantastic!”
“Thanks Dirbil, I appreciate it kiddo. Unfortunately we haven’t quite got enough time for the tour today.”
Marik and Loustic scurry around the workshop, gathering supplies and assorted weapons for whatever it is they planned to do next. Dirbil wandered around the large space, trying to understand Marik’s various bits of machinery and gadgets strung all over the place. Marik tossed him a metal glove, saying “You might need this.”
Dirbil put his hand inside, and the gadget whirred and clicked, shrinking down to fit him. A single button sits on the top of the glove. Dirbil pressed it, and the glove instantly expanded to a full size round shield. It struck him in the face, releasing spores into the air. “Damn it Dirbil. Stop causing a ruckus.”
“Sorry Mr. Marik,” he replied, containing his excitement over his new shield. Pressing the button again, the shield shrank back into a glove. Loustic clanked over to Dirbil, and handed him a short steel sword. The sword was beautiful, a hilt wrapped in wolf fur, with an intricately crafted steel pommel at it’s base. The crossguard was forged in such a way to look like two snakes striking toward the enemy. Another small button was crafted into the hilt, just below the crossguard. Before Dirbil had the chance to press it, Marik took it from his hands, explaining what it does, “This blade is how we will be able to break into the crypt. The handle of the blade contains a reservoir where the Berian stinger venom will sit. A press of the button douses the sword in venom. This blade is crafted from Vanadium, a nearly indestructible metal, and the only natural substance that cannot be corroded by Berian venom. We need this blade to slice open the iron lock to the door, allowing us to enter the crypt. Inside that crypt is my good friend Tyras the Black, the most feared warrior on the Claudorian coast.”
“Why exactly is he locked in a crypt?” inquired Dirbil.
“Well, he’s not exactly alive anymore.”
“So we’re breaking a dead body out of a crypt.”
“Yeah we made a bet once that whichever of us was still alive when the other died would get the body of the other one. And I had this fun idea about making a nice decorative piece from his skull. His family didn’t like that idea very much though, so now I have to break into the family crypt.”
This made no sense to Dirbil. It seemed to him to be a wildly foolish idea, and he felt a few moral reservations about stealing a body. But, these were his new friends so he replied, “That makes sense let’s do it.”
Chapter 7: Breaking into the Crypt
The unlikely party of three stepped back onto the crowded street. Dirbil, now in human clothes, drew a few less looks, and now had the blade strapped to the belt. On his hand, he wore the metal glove, ready for any sort of danger that came his way. The town was still unfamiliar to Dirbil, and he tucked in behind Loustic. Marik led the way, surprisingly clearing the way on the crowded street, heading north toward the Black family crypt. The crypt was tucked behind a monastery, a barred stone door rests in the wall, about 6 feet high, and two feet across. An inscription on the door reads, “THE HOUSE OF BLACK.” A keyhole is situated in the door, in the center.
Dirbil as instructed approaches the door, removing his blade from its sheath. He presses the button on the sheath, covering it in Berian venom. He presses the blade against the keyhole, and the stone begins to hiss, eventually melting away slowly. The myconid backs away from the wall, allowing Loustic to kick the door down was a loud crash. Beyond the door, darkness engulfs the room, obscuring it from view completely. Dirbil, as a myconid, can see directly through the dark. Within the crypt, stone tables and shelves hold countless bodies and skeletons. One shelf holds a body with flesh still attached to the bones. Dirbil assumes this is Marik’s friend. Loustic lights a torch, and enters the room. “There he is fellas,” says Marik, pointing toward the body Dirbil had noticed.
Loustic marches toward it, producing a knife from his bag. He walks to the body, and brings the knife down on Tyras’ neck, completely separating his head from his body. He grabs it by the hair, and hoists it in the air. Marik yelled over to Loustic, “Put in the sack and let’s get the hell out of here.”
Loustic quickly tucked the head into a small burlap sack, and tied it to his belt. Marik and Loustic quickly fled the crypt, leaving Dirbil stumbling behind, struggling to catch up with the other two. He stumbled through the doorway, and back into the street, where before him are Marik and Loustic, restrained by the city militia, Marik with a sword to his throat and Loustic already deactivated by a well placed strike to his head, leaving it lopsided and sparking. The guards quickly disarmed Dirbil, placing a sword to his throat. “Kelsar. You bastard,” growled Marik.
A squirrelish looking man with a long blonde mustache stepped forward. He took a dagger from his belt, holding it to Marik’s throat, causing a single bead of blood to run down his neck. “Grave robber now Marik? That seems low, even for you. When someone does something wrong, it usually isn’t their fault. Even in your case. The best way to get them to reform is to take the tool they use to commit their offense. You do know what happens to thieves in Frostladen Bay? We take their hands. Both of them. Then they go free, to show others what will happen if they step out of line. Hold him down.”
“You powerjerking fucking maniac.”
Two of the nearly dozen guards hold Marik down, pressing his arms against the cobblestone road. Another guard hands an axe to Kelsar, who steps forward towards Marik again. He reaches back, and brings the axe down on Marik’s wrist. With a bloodcurdling scream, the hand is completely severed from his wrist, flopping onto the cobblestones, squirting blood in every direction. Marik writhes on the ground, struggling against the guards that hold him down. Dirbil tries to break free, slamming into one of the guards holding him against the wall. He feels a sharp pain in leg, and looks down to see an arrow has been fired into his leg, completely penetrating it, and pinning him to the wooden support beam behind him. Kelsar swings the axe again, taking Marik’s other hand. He again cries out and thrashes on the ground, before eventually going still. Kelsar paces toward Loustic, before swinging the ax again, taking the metal head off of him. It clunks onto the cobblestones and rolls toward Marik’s head where the lifeless eyes of his creation were staring into his own. Fury burns behind his eyes and immediately he begins planning his revenge. Kelsar steps toward Dirbil, pushing the cloak off his head, revealing his fungus covered head. “A myconid? I suppose that isn’t surprising for Marik. The only people willing to go along with him are fucking freaks.”
Dirbil is silent, his eyes glued to the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with Kelsar. The myconid refused to make eye contact, and suddenly felt another searing pain in his chest. He looked down and saw a knife planted firmly in his chest, green blood running down his stomach. Kelsar says something Dirbil can’t make out and loses consciousness.
