Lowbie Area Thirty Five El Dash Jay was remarkably dull. Flat grasslands, the least whimsical scrub oak forest in all the Kingdoms of Magica and a single fetch quest lacking either breadcrumb trail or story hook combined to create the zone equivalent of a dial tone.

It was, perhaps, the single most boring bloodbath in existence.

By a generous estimation, LA:35L-J had precisely three interesting features.

First: the glob of undulating possibility that churned at the far eastern side of the zone, the telltale sign of some planned or more likely abandoned dev project. Second: the glowing label pasted onto the Eastern Glob reading “WATER FEATURE TBD”, a smaller label slapped directly below it blinking out…

“DOUG: UR FIRED”

And in a particularly questionable stretch, Third: LA:35L-J had mongrels. Not goblins, not imps or croakers, but mongrels. And wasn’t that interesting?

No, not really. Sure, fine, whatever; filling every starting area with the same trash would be tedious. Goblins are the standard for a reason, but how often can one swing a sword into the same identical orangey face before ennui sets in? And mongrels are cute, at least, like waist-high puffball puppies running around on two legs trying to gnaw on people.

Perhaps that was why mongrels were so rare as low-level fodder, while goblins were so common. When all you’re getting is some boots you’ll throw away in three days anyways, it’s a lot easier to smoosh twenty hideous cackling gremlins with a mace than twenty anthropomorphized pomeranians.

Still. Trash mobs exist to be killed, to be bashed with something sharp once or twice while on one's way to a bigger zone and bigger targets for sharpened bashes. And if LA:35L-J was too boring to attract the players necessary for that particular purpose, the zone was just going to have to do something about the issue itself.

So it wasn’t long before the small outpost popped into existence in the depths of the decidedly non-magical woods, and the unaffiliated soldiers who appeared with it filed out to joylessly, methodically slaughter mongrels. With that particular box ticked, the Powers That Be turned their attentions to far more deserving places, and Lowbie Area Thirty Five El Dash Jay settled into its cycle of banal slaughter.

The zone popped mongrels, the soldiers killed mongrels, the zone popped more mongrels, on and on ad nauseam. A dreary, meaningless horrorshow, plodding around in its rut so far to the corner of the Kingdoms that it barely even appeared on the map. Forever.

At least, it seemed that way before.

Before Boss Yip-Yap.

Before his Big Plan.

Even mongrels that had held secret doubts couldn’t help but wiggle and wag in anticipation as Boss Yip-Yap’s Big Plan unfolded before their very eyes. They crept as one through the brush of the Very Mundane Woods, the entire pack focused in a way that only a true leader could inspire. And always, always, Boss Yip-Yap was in the lead, carving a path to glory with his relatively enormous bulk.

A firm nip or sternly directed whiff of scent was occasionally needed to quiet an overly excited pup, but excitement as much as respect for their Biggest kept the pack silent as the outpost loomed larger and larger.

This outpost was the source of all their woes. Every single mongrel that had come before them had been killed by the monsters that lived inside. But no more. Tonight? That ancestral threat would be ended. Tonight, the outpost and the entire zone would be theirs again. The plan was Big, after all, and anything that was Big couldn’t be wrong.

The outpost monsters may have been strong, but they were comparatively few.

Too few to keep a constant watch posted on their meager walls. Too few to notice the dozens and dozens of mongrels hunkered down just inside the treeline. Too few to unravel the intricacies of Boss Yip-Yap’s Big Plan, at least until it was too late. And it already was too late. Yip-Yap held the pack in position for an agonizing eternity, and then threw back his head in a victorious howl as he surged forward to put his masterstroke into play. The time had finally come.

He was finally peeing directly onto the outpost.

The other mongrels cheered and jabbered in triumph as Boss Yip-Yap roared his success, his powerful blast of potent urine splashing all over what was now his wall like a mighty, unstoppable river.

"Haha, yes, YES!" he exulted, shuffling around to splatter his marking torrent in a dominant swath. "This now belongs to Yip-Yap! ALL OF THIS IS NOW BELONGS TO YIP-YAP!”

So frenzied were the pack's cries and jeers that they continued to celebrate even as the first arrow burst through Boss Yip-Yap's head, his pee stream still sputtering out even as he wobbled bonelessly on his stricken feet. The second and third arrows sent him sprawling to the ground, while the fourth and fifth could only be called bad manners.

The cheers had mostly died down now, some diehard holdout managing a final, heartbreaking 'whoo' before the gates to the outpost groaned open, and everyone scattered.

Well, it was still a pretty Big plan.

Shh had been pretty sure it was a terrible plan.

But Yip-Yap was the Biggest, so his plans were also Big, right? That’s how stuff works. That’s just science. And he wasn’t going to bring the whole pack down, just because of some doubts! No sir!

When the call went out that the Big Plan was happening, what did Shh do? He marched straight out, got the big damn stick he’d found, collected that super cool pointy rock that had fallen on his brother’s head and killed him, then soundly lashed them together before rejoining the others.

He may have had his doubts, yes. About the plan. About the pack. And sure, even about Yip-Yap. But he still brought the biggest stick, with the pointiest rock. Let any dog just try to claim he wasn’t committed.

But now Yip-Yap was dead, the outpost monsters having failed to acknowledge his obvious pee-superiority as Shh feared they might. And even a big stick with a pointy rock wasn’t enough to bring the Boss back.

Probably.

Maybe it would. If the coast was clear the next morning, Shh resolved to come back and poke Yip-Yap’s arrow-ridden corpse with his stick to see if it would bring him back to his previous Big-ness, and his previous Alive-ness.

For the moment, though, Shh was going to keep running for his life.

The monsters sure were killing a lot of his friends, it had to be noted, and running seemed to be the prudent play. Was Prudence also Big? Probably not, but that was the sort of philosophical musing that could wait until Shh could no longer literally feel the arrows scything past his head, or hear the sounds of his slower packmates being slaughtered behind him.

The mongrel was so distracted by his warring desires to ponder imponderables and also not get murdered that he stumbled directly onto something soft and squirming, barely managing to keep himself upright with the haft of his stick. A quick sniff was enough to reveal the obstacle to be Mo-Mo, the runt of the pack, whimpering and writhing as she attempted to free herself from the root she’d become entangled in.

Every nerve in Shh’s body screamed at him to just keep running, that Mo-Mo would be a convenient buffer between him and certain death, but he’d already made the mistake of glancing down into the runt’s big, pleading eyes.

Dammit.

Luckily, the big stick and pointy rock made quick work of the offending root. Mo-Mo scrambled to her feet the moment she was free, whimpering and blubbering her thanks as Shh tried his best to drag both of them back towards the hideout.

It wasn’t easy, to Shh’s deep dismay; who would have guessed that fleeing for your life was a lot harder with a weeping puffball latched onto your side? They were getting absolutely nowhere, the increasingly desperate mongrel shuddering with every imagined arrow he was certain was about to burst through him.

This wasn’t how Shh imagined he’d die, despite the extremely high probability that this was always how he was going to die. The mongrel had envisioned himself falling off a cliff while deep in a philosophical musing, or that perhaps that another, even pointier rock with his name on it was falling inexorably towards his head.

Or, perhaps, that They would come back one day, to take him for the secrets he inadvertently stole that day.

That last thought sometimes kept Shh awake at night, but at least it wasn’t boring. Getting shot by outpost monsters? That was some real-deal boring nonsense.

Screw it. If this was the end, Shh’d rather see the arrow coming. His ears pressed flat against his head in distress, he hazarded a tremulous glance behind him towards the inescapable death he knew awaited him and Mo-Mo. But it wasn’t there. The monsters weren’t coming any further.

A single ear perked up; he could still hear them in the distance, could still hear their casual massacring of his packmates. But luckily, morbidly, they must have decided to content themselves with the few dozen mongrels they were already in the process of murdering. They were no longer being chased. For the moment, they were safe.

Which was good, because now that he’d stopped running Shh realized his lungs were about to explode. He released Mo-Mo with a gasp, collapsing against a tree as his body shook itself through the aftereffects of running for his life. He wanted to laugh and weep and puke and pee, though for the sake of his overtaxed body hopefully not all at once.

Mo-Mo didn’t fully share Shh’s sense of relief.

“W-we gotta go the the caaave…” she bawled, rubbing her floof against Shh in a way he’d normally find soothing.

Right now, however, the runt was simply making it incredibly difficult for Shh to catch his second wind. Not that snapping at her would have achieved anything; it would have been like kicking an actual puppy. So instead, Shh gulped down another massive lungful of air, wrapped a steadying arm around Mo-Mo, and began exhaustedly limping them both back towards the hideout. This was alright, this was fine. They were both going to be okay.

Not many members of their pack could say that anymore. So Shh forced himself to give a sad little wag. This was the closest thing to win any of them were going to get out of Yip-Yap’s Big Plan.

Might as well give it the celebration it deserved.

The cave, somehow still concealed behind its curtain of vines and brush, was as cold and damp as ever. Significantly more so now, with at least twenty fewer bodies to keep it warm. Dank as it was, though, it was the sweetest sight Shh had ever seen. Though now that they were through the immediate danger, he had to note the exact magnitude of their losses. It had taken Shh and Mo-Mo a long time to make it, and he was relatively certain there’d been no one left behind them, mongrel or otherwise. So that’s it, then. Shit.

Shh allowed himself to collapse onto the ground in a heap, Mo-Mo immediately glomming onto him for comfort and warmth. Shh tried his best to stay focused, despite his body screaming at him to simply pass out and Mo-Mo’s tail stress-wagging directly against his face. Unconsciousness would have been a welcome change of pace after the nightmares he’d faced so far, but Shh knew that the next few hours were incredibly important for the pack’s future.

They were going to have to take stock, to fully account for who made it. And, even more vitally, they’d have to figure out who was Biggest now.

Shh immediately noticed, with no small amount of pleasure, that Gert was among the survivors. Not that it was a surprise; if anyone was going to make it out, it was her. The big, tough female was curled up sullenly at the back of the cave, purposely keeping her distance from the others as usual. Still, beyond being pleased to see that she was alive, Shh immediately discounted her as the next Boss.

Oh sure, she was big and strong. Maybe as big as Yip-Yap, and certainly bigger than any of the other survivors. But Gert was a loner, and that wasn’t the way of their kind.

Some kinds of Bigness made you Not-Big. Shh had always been proud of that particular witticism, though he was confident that if he ever expressed it aloud he’d be laughed at, and probably fed dirt. Probably by Gert.

So who else. Only…ten others made it, it seemed? There’s Dool, and Hi-Hi, and Fat Face, and Soup…hm. Was Soup Bigger than Fat-Face? Shh pondered that as he forced his back up against the cave wall, distractedly comforting Mo-Mo as the runt sniffled in and out of exhausted sleep.

Soup was probably taller, but Fat-Face was half-again as wide. The implications of how Bigness was precisely quantified would have fascinated Shh under other circumstances, but right now he was bone-tired and really just wanted someone, anyone, to tell him what they were all going to do. And so when Hi-Hi, certainly big but probably not the Biggest, stood up and began to bark out orders? Shh was more than happy to simply drink it in.

“Okay guys!” The scruffy mongrel puffed himself as far as he could manage, addressing the motley crew of survivors. “So it didn’t work! Who knows why?”

Shh opened his mouth to answer, but Hi-Hi barrelled on regardless. “It was the fault, obviously, of all those guys that didn’t make it! They were too small and weak! Or they’d’ve made it! Those dead dum-dums really messed things up for all of us!”

The others murmured their agreement, though Shh couldn’t help being a bit skeptical.

Sure, obviously Hi-Hi’s logic was flawless, and he was a very gifted orator. But something in that seemed…wrong? Whatever, Hi-Hi was Biggest now; Shh was confident the new Boss would bring it all around for them.

“It was because of dead runts like Whimmy!” Hi-Hi punctuated each shaming of a dead pack-mate with a smack of his paw and a burst of disapproving odor-”Like Flan! Like Mo-Mo!”

Shh decided it was probably for the best to not interrupt with a correction about the finally-asleep Mo-Mo’s survival. Instead he half-heartedly offered his agreement growls with the other survivors, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Those dummies got Yip-Yap killed! But don’t worry, ‘cause I know how we’ll get our revenge!”-Hi-Hi somehow managed to find another inch he could puff himself out, now looking for all the world like the true Biggest among them-”I know how we can still come out on top, like we were always S’POSED to! It’s all thanks to my Big, no, um, my BIGGER Plan!”

The entire pack was leaning forward by then, tails wagging in excitement, and Shh was no exception. Gert was, though, the big female mostly looking tired and bored. Which was crazy! The Biggest was about to give the Bigger Plan! That was, like, the biggest plan any of them had ever heard of!

This was big!

Hi-Hi raised a paw dramatically. “I say that tomorrow, when the sun begins to set, we go back to the outpost…” He paused, drawing out the moment until the others were whining for him to go on. “...and. We. All. PEE ON IT~!”

The others immediately howled their approval, rapturously delighting in Hi-Hi’s Bigger Plan. Shh, however, was struck by a terrible chill dripping down his spine.

But…that was Yip-Yap’s plan.

That was the dead Yip-Yap’s plan, and it got most of the pack killed.

That was the Bigger Plan?

Shh nearly choked as a thought burned its way through his brain, the realization that maybe the Biggest dog in the room wasn’t necessarily the Smartest one. That Hi-Hi was the new Boss, and he was definitely sending everyone who managed to escape the night directly back to their deaths.

Did he really pull Mo-Mo from those roots just so she could be killed the next day? Did Gert really survive one mongrel’s stupid plan just so she could fall victim to an even smaller mongrel’s even stupider plan?

No. No way. Shh growled resolutely to himself, ears rising in aggravation. When this was all over, he was going to have to do some serious pondering about the realities of the whole Bigness situation? But for now, Shh only had one concern: saving everyone’s stupid, pee-obsessed lives.

And he was certain he knew how to do it, too.

The mongrel cleared his throat, awkwardly attempting to bring up the unnatural noises that he required. Monster talk was so weird and monotone, completely lacking the nuance mongrels could manage through smells and body language. Still, this was the only way to make the secret he’d been accidentally shown work.

“Mmmmrm…Stt…Strt.” Shh shook his head, gritting his teeth as he forced his way through the awkward mouth noise. “S-strtus.”

That must have been close enough, because the familiar window Shh had spent so many nights entranced by appeared before his eyes. There it was, just as always: everything that was Shh, boiled down into a few incredibly disheartening numbers:

Strength: Two.

Agility: Two.

Toughness: Two

Intelligence: Two

Wisdom: Three

Presence: Four

Not particularly flattering. Especially that 'Two' for Intelligence. Talk about a friggin' hard dose of reality.

But the mongrel found the numbers’ cruel truths hard to argue against. And that last pair of threes were at least Even then, though, the overall picture wasn’t great. Assuming Shh was close to a standard specimen, his discovery of the Status Screen proved one thing conclusively: mongrels absolutely deserved their place at the bottom of the heap. And without some sort of change, they were going to stay there.

Shh’s eyes slipped past the bad news and focused on the good: Level One, Experience Zero. And yeah, those stats didn’t immediately seem promising, but for some reason they made something tickle in the back of the mongrel’s head. Shh knew that…hrm. He didn’t know anything, honestly. Mongrels may be at the bottom right now, but maybe they didn’t have to stay there. And the only way left to go was up. Maybe, they could climb their way up. Above the outpost monsters. Out of this boring, abandoned zone. Out to…well, who knew?

This was it. The Biggest Plan. And Shh only had a few hours to get everyone else on board, or they were all dead.