Everyone stands around the dead scythemaw, trying to figure out the answer to Ragnar’s question: How will they get this thing out of here? It’s too big and heavy for them to lift, and even if they manage to cut it into pieces, there’s still the matter of all the other scythemaws between them and my territory.

“Maybe a shortcut?” suggests Aelara, but the others don’t look too sure of that.

“Even if Teemo made one, we still wouldn’t be able to lift the entire thing,” points out Yvonne.

Teemo tilts his head slightly as I tell him I’ll help, and he smiles once I explain. “The Boss says he’s sending Fluffles to come get the scythemaw. He should be able to levitate the corpse without much issue, and probably us with it. Once back in Thedeim’s territory proper, you guys should be able to get a cart and some laborers or something.”

Ragnar grins at that idea. “An’ we c’n parade this thing through town. I ken we’re the first ta fell one.” The others enjoy the idea of the fame that will bring, before Yvonne speaks up.

“Oh, Aranya. Did you want to officially join the guild? Your prayers made that fight much smoother,” she points out, and the other two nod as the kobold considers that.

“What about my responsibilities to Thedeim?”

Teemo shrugs. “You know how his plans can change, but he’s not planning any new enclaves for a while. I’m pretty sure the other spawners still have quite a few upgrades to go before any of them would be ready, too.”

She thinks while the others idly chat and poke the dead maw, taking their time to examine their prize as they wait for Fluffles to get there. He has no trouble flying high and over the scythemaws, and they’re content to ignore him. He earns the occasional growl when he flies over some nests, but that’s it. Once he arrives and slips past the doors, Aranya seems to take that as her cue to announce her decision.

“I think I will join the Adventurer’s Guild, if you’ll have me in your party. You are allowed more than three, right? I’ve only ever seen trios or solo people, sometimes a delver leading a non-combatant to the nodes.”

Aelara nods. “There’s no official limit to a party size, but three is the traditional number. It tends to give a good balance of roles while minimizing the need to divide loot and experience.”

“You all are fine with me having a share of both?”

They all nod, and Ragnar speaks up. “Aye, lass. If na fer yer prayers, that maw could ‘ave left me as half th’ dwarf I am now.”

Aranya smiles and looks to Teemo. “And Lord Thedeim is fine with this, too?”

“Yeah, he’s fine with it. Don’t go leaving him too lonely,” he says with a wink, and everyone shares a laugh. Fluffles hisses for everyone’s attention, to see if they’re all ready to go.

“I think we should climb aboard the scythemaw and pretty much just hang on?” suggests Teemo, and the others all agree to that plan. They all pile on, give Violet thanks again, before Fluffles lifts the whole show in his telekinesis and flies out the doors.

The trip back is only slightly more interesting than the flight in. A floating scythemaw is a lot more attention-grabbing than just my wingnoodle on his own. Hisses, growls, and roars all follow, but all the maws take more defensive than offensive positions as Fluffles goes past. They don’t want a fight, but they want to try to establish themselves as something Fluffles doesn’t want to fight, either.

I’m pretty sure he could take them, but he has more important things to do. He deposits everyone up on the lawn, just outside the cave entrance, drawing looks from everyone else on the surface. Aelara and Ragnar head outside to see about a wagon and a few ‘stout lads’ to help load the thing, while Yvonne and Aranya stay with the body to make sure nobody messes with it.

The two get asked all sorts of questions, and Aranya lets Yvonne handle what information they get to hear. My birdkin is more familiar with the terms of the quest, after all. She gives out only the most basic of information; the maws are fast and strong, don’t get grabbed, hit it hard to get past the scales, and so on.

Before too long, the other two return with a mule-drawn cart and a few… badgerkin, looks like? They fit the stout lads description, that’s for sure. It doesn’t take them too much time nor effort to get it loaded up, and the party heads off to turn in the quest and get Aranya officially signed up, and the other delvers return to their own delves.

The next couple days sees more parties wanting to bag a maw of their own, but there’s a lot fewer opportunities to snag one. The maws squatting in the spider enclave have settled in, with only a few of the larger ones deciding they don’t like having my spiderkin overhead. So with the nesting seeming to be settled, it’s time for the guys to strut their stuff and try to impress a lady enough to do the nasty. As such, most maws are all gathered up together, and even the most reckless of parties would rather not try to fight a whole cavern full of horny tunnel horrors.

Still, dominance displays will always leave a couple on the outskirts, which is generally outside my borders in the hunting tunnels. I watch a familiar group as they prepare to head out: the same group that got the chest in my basement a while ago. The halfling is still done up in shiny armor with a sword and shield, though the shield is closer to a tower shield now. I’m pretty sure he had more of a kite shield back in the basement.

The spear elf still has his spear and chainmail, and the lady gnome still looks like a walking alchemy shop. They all look in pretty high spirits, though the jovial tone of their conversation quiets as they near my border and put their game faces on.

“Remember,” says the gnome as everyone does one last check of their gear. “These things are dangerous. The Hardening Oil for Jurl’s armor should protect him from the worst, but we’ll all drink the stoneskin potions once we have a horror picked out. The Keen Oil should help your spear get past the scales, Dirnos, but watch for the tail. I’m going to try a Frozen Fulmination when I get the chance. It might have more trouble breaking free of ice than from earth.”

The other two nod, and the elf grins. “And if we’re in over our heads, run back here and hope Thedeim can keep the angry maw from eating us, right Quitly?” The gnome sticks her tongue out at him before nodding.

“Right. The Fleet Ointment should help us stay unnoticed, and also help us run, if it comes to that.” With one more nod, the three head out, and I wish them luck. They seem to be the only ones risking a fight down there right now, with everyone else either doing more ordinary delving or giving the gauntlet or maze a try. The gauntlet has been less popular since the Trio took the first true clear, but it’s still an interesting challenge that keeps the delvers on their toes when the deeper sections are just too dangerous for more parties to play with. I watch a couple runs in there, and a few people in the maze, though I keep an eye out on my borders, just in case.

I start to get a bit worried for the group when I notice Grim make his way down to one of the tunnels, and I set a few healing slimes to follow him. There’s only that one group that’s hunting right now, so I hope things are going well for them.

Things don’t seem to be going well for them, as I soon feel the elf sprinting into the tunnel with Grim, the gnome and halfling over his shoulders. The halfling is looking like a rabid can-opener attacked him, and the gnome is looking pretty pale from blood loss. The culprit is probably that deep gash on her thigh. I can see something smeared over the wound, but I don’t know what it actually is.

And not far behind comes a rampaging scythemaw, roaring and chasing as quickly as it can. Grim watches them all, and motions at the elf before indicating the two red slimes behind him, and slowly walks forward. The elf rushes past him and gives the two slimes a weird look, before the gnome manages a few pained words.

“Into… the slimes…” she groans, recognizing the healing properties even in her state. Grim’s scythe makes a rhythmic sound as he uses it as a walking stick, continuing his pace towards the tunnel horror, seeming to pay no mind to the scenes before or behind him.

The elf, apparently Dirnos, manages to get his companions into the jells before he looks back, and his eyes widen as he feels Grim tap into his true power. My Groundsreaper’s robes seem to softly billow in an unseen breeze as he comes to a stop, the scythemaw practically upon him. If I had eyes, they’d widen, too, when I take a peek at Grim’s stats. He’s got a few new titles.

Grim, the Groundsreaper

Skeleton Scion

Bloom of Life

Touch of Death

The Bridge Between

Grim doesn’t even move as the maw collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, a faint caw echoing through the tunnels. Momentum carries it to Grim’s feet, where he reaches into his robe and pulls out a simple daisy and lays it upon its snout. His task complete, he turns and walks back past the stunned elf and the recovering others. They’re in no position to say anything, but he quietly swears once Grim passes out of his view, and he looks back towards the dead scythemaw.

“By the Raven…”

I don’t think he’s too far off.