The light drew closer, and with it came the slowly discernible shape of the fishing pole it dangled from and the turtle who held it.

The humming became increasingly frantic. “Now now, Terry,” cautioned the turtle, flying on course to crash into Gnome and I.

I stood and backed away from the cliff. “Should I get my bow?” I asked.

Before he could answer, the bird squawked. “We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!” It said in the mimicking voice of a parrot.

“Terry! Terry!” The turtle said. “Steady! Shit, fuck, ah!”

The light fell and the scream fell with it, growing fainter until we heard the splash.

Still in the air, the bird circled wide before diving down into darkness. Moments later both bird and light returned with a grumbling and dripping wet turtle. “Darned creature…” it—he mumbled. “Always disobeying my commands, always—ah, you there!”

He noticed Gnome and I and signalled the bird to land on the cliff beside us. I took a step back to observe the odd combo.

The turtle lifted his thick aviator goggles, which had left red marks where they pressed into his skin, and adjusted the fraying red scarf that had been wrapped around his neck. Beyond the adventurer pilot gear, he was yellow and sported a green shell like the Koopas from Mario.

“I apologize,” he said, wiping his face, “Terry’s been a very, very bad boy. But he’s my very bad boy. Isn’t that right you little…” the turtle devolved into unintelligible petspeak and began scratching Terry’s multi-coloured feathers.

“Cute bird! Cute bird! Weird Koopa! Squawk!”

The birdlike features began to slip away on closer inspection. Other than the colourful feathers of a parrot and the mimicking voice to match, Terry was more like a pterodactyl than anything else. A real, living pterodactyl, with a long beak and wings and narrow bony protrusion at the back of his head.

Creature Discovered

- Parrodactyl -

Challenge: 2

What’s more annoying than a Pterodactyl and more terrifying than a Parrot? Yup, you guessed it. And what’s even worse than that? How about one that’s psychic? Be careful what you think, a Parrodactyl might just repeat it out loud.

Unique Creature Discovered

- Lucky Too -

Challenge: Undefined

Behold a prototype creature of the Emerald Expanse, Lucky Too, or just “Lucky” for short. There is only one of his kind at the moment, and if trials run as expected, you may see more of these adventurous spirits roaming the skies on their vehicular vessel of choice. Some may ride birds, others may ride the very clouds themselves. Don’t ask to borrow his scarf, he’s very prickly about that.

I blinked and checked my sanity to make sure I hadn’t lost it. It was near one hundred percent. Could’ve fooled me.

“Benjamin, if you eat that bird you will gain its psychic abilities,” whispered Gnome, who was not as stealthy as he must’ve thought.

Lucky turned his head to the chest and urged Terry back a few steps. “I hope your magical friend is only joking,” he said.

“Yummy bird! Squawk! Annoying turtle!”

“Hush now Terry, we are here on business.” Lucky reached into a satchel strung around his shell and withdrew a rolled parchment, swiftly broke the seal and unfurled the letter with a clearing of the throat. At its full height it was almost as tall as him.

“On behalf of the Emerald Expanse Corporation in concert with the Lord of Seasons and Lady of Change, you are hereby invited to the temporary estate known in the common human tongue of English as Treetop Town,” he began, “to attend the Royal Autumn Gala and its ensuing fes…fes…” Lucky leaned closer to the page. “Ah, typo. That should say festivities.”

He made a second exaggerated clearing of the throat. “…As well as the titular dungeon crawl within the heart of the Ancestral Tree to discover the secret of the undead rot plaguing the land. As one of three parties to discover the hidden note at the caravan site for the community event titled ‘The Smashed Caravan’ since the event’s en…suement?” Lucky looked down at the bird. “Terry, I’m thinking they wrote this in a hurry.”

“Squawk! What a dumb ass!”

“As one of three parties… yes, yes, yes… smashed caravan… yes… ah! While you are away your Anchor shall remain unusable by any other party until your return. If you deny the request and/or fail to show up within seventy two hours of the delivery of this message, your place shall be forfeit, and your participation in the aforementioned event and dungeon will be terminated, barring you from any further favour, treasure, or magical items.”

Lucky began furling the paper. “Do you Kiril…” he fumbled with his words upon looking at me directly. “You are not Kiril Minchev.”

I nodded to the cave. “He’s inside, probably hanging out in his phylactery. You want him?”

“Squawk! Psycho!”

“He does not need to be present, no,” said Lucky. He reached out with the letter. “Just give this to him when he’s no longer indisposed.”

“Lord of Change and Lady of Seasons?” I asked, grabbing the paper. “Who are they?”

Lucky scoffed. “Lord of Seasons and Lady of Change. And you shouldn’t worry yourself about it, neither will be there. This is more of a… what would you call it? Make believe? A respite from the trials and tribulations of the island. Until you enter the dungeon, that is.”

“Dungeon?” Gnome piped up. “What’s this about a dungeon? They’re not sending me back, are they? I don’t want to go back, I’ve just gotten out!”

Lucky chuckled. “You’ll be fine, but I can’t say the same about you, Benjamin. It is designed to kill quite a lot of your kind.”

“What’s to stop us from not going?” I asked. “What if we say screw it and skip it altogether? It’s not like we can’t find favour elsewhere.”

Lucky shrugged and fixed the goggles over his eyes. “You’re free to do as you please, but Mr. Pink will be upset if you miss it.”

“What?”

Lucky mimed looking at a wrist watch. “I really must go. I have one more party to attend to and the night is so very dark. Do you have any further questions? No? Lovely. Come now, Terry, let’s be off this desolate rock.” He turned his mount toward the cliff without giving me a second to gather my thoughts.

“Mr. Pink?” I asked. “Will he be there?”

Lucky sighed. “That would be unprofessional.”

Unprofessional. If I needed any more confirmation he was a game maker, that was it. Mr. Pink, Mr. Orange, Madame Rouge. All of them. How many more chromatic killers could there be? Did they go down the entire primary and secondary colour wheel? Did they dip their toes in obscurities like sanguine or shades like winter peach?

My mind returned again to all the skulls in Gnome’s dusty prison, and all the bodies they must’ve belonged to, none of which I’d ever seen lying around. Disappeared, Angie had said. Sunk into the ground.

Disappeared. I had disappeared from my life, taken away in a plane crash. Jade was gone from hers too, pushed over the side of a boat. Patrick. Angie. All of them taken by one colour or another.

But it was unprofessional to meet at a festival. That was where the line was drawn.

“Well, if there’s nothing else—“ Lucky began.

“Who else is going to be there? You said three parties have been invited. Which are the other two?” I asked.

“That information is to be saved until your arrival, I’m afraid.”

“Squawk! Ruby Rangers! Satan’s Ass! Squawk!”

Lucky let slip an exasperated groan. “What did I just say? Oh, if only you weren’t so darned cute.” The turtle grabbed the fishing rod, leaned forward and placed his hands on Terry’s wings like he was about to rev a motorcycle. “Off with you. Hyah!”

With a grumble from the turtle the two of them took off, swooping low before climbing into the sky, the yellow light receding into the night.

“Ruby Rangers,” Gnome mused. “Don’t I have a hand in my belly belonging to them?”

“You certainly do.” I shivered against the breeze and longed for hot chocolate and Brie’s knitted scarves.

A festival and a dungeon crawl. But a festival with who? The only creatures other than the copyright abominations I’d seen were undead lawn fixtures. Gnome talked about Hobblescars beyond the mountains, but the way he’d spoken about them made it seem like they were deep in the other realm, whatever that meant.

“Have you ever been to Treetop Town?” I asked after a lengthy period of silence.

“It did not exist the last time I was out and about. There was another place, though. Large mushroom houses and flamboyant colours… oh what was the name?”

“What was there? who lived there?”

Gnome made a sound that was half a growl and half a sigh. “Fae creatures,” he spat. “Likely this town will be the same. Be on guard, they will appear as human to you. It can take quite a lot to unmask their true form.”

They’ll appear as dead players, you mean. I sat back down on the edge of the cliff next to Gnome, doing my best to grunt away the chill from my bones. I closed my eyes and listened, trying to hear the lyrics that might've been out there.

What did Mr. Pink want? I had heard the Piña Colada song twice, once to calm me so I didn’t plummet to my death, and once to direct me back to the caravan. Was the whole point just to get me to Treetop Town? It seemed a bit pointless if the dungeon was likely to kill me once I got there, but who was I to question the absurdity of the pantheon?

A muffled boom pulled my attention behind me and beyond the cave. A second one followed, then a third. I’ve heard that before. It was a little louder now that we were closer to the mountains, closer to whatever produced that sound. Closer to death. Sigh.

"Is the future still looking bright?" I asked.

Unsurprisingly, but inexplicably, Gnome was snoring.

I moved to wake him but stopped short. If the little chest had a steady enough mind to sleep, he deserved it.

I, on the other hand, was wide awake, staring at what I thought was the horizon, wondering if Mr. Pink was out there on another plane somewhere with another guy. His next victim.

Not that I was jealous or anything.