Deacon was slipping through the underbrush in a mad dash toward the moving islands. There was an incline to the ground as he passed by an old stone tower. It was covered in ivy and crumbling in random spots. It reached about two floors straight up. Uncle Jared was making a bee line for the doorway at the bottom. Hoping that he knew something Deacon didn’t, he followed quickly after him.

“You know we can’t just hide in here, right? That big monster has sniffed us out of every cluster of trees and clearing since it started giving chase. Any ideas how we can bring it down?” asked Deacon as he nervously watched the golden tusked behemoth smashing through the trees frantically searching for them.

“It… should have given up by now. This isn’t for hiding. It’s a signal tower. I need to alert those stationed at the entrance to town. This is supposed to be for emergencies only, but there isn’t any wood for the fires. The tower is supposed to be stocked—” Jared was interrupted by the sound of grinding as a slab of stone shut the entrance behind them.

Deacon spun around looking at the unnaturally colored stone pressed against the doorway. Then they heard laughing from outside. The interior of the tower was about twenty feet in circumference with at stone stairwell leading to the second floor. In the center of the tower was thick chimney that poked out of the ceiling. Deacon guessed that’s where the smoke exited. He wondered if a simple smoke signal was all it was supposed to emanate. All around the center shaft were scuff marks and the tell tale signs of where stacked wood used to be.

“I can’t believe an acclaimed hunter such as yourself fell for such a simple trap,” came a voice from outside the tower.

At the same time stone began to grow in a spiral pattern at the top of the tower closing off the small amount of light that was coming in from the starry sky above. Deacon popped his head through the wall to see a Deep Dweller in brown and green robes waiving a wand shinning with green energy. Next to him were two other Dwellers in leather armor. Each had the symbol of house Hascavir embroidered on the chest piece. They had yet to notice Deacon ghosting himself through the wall. What really baffled Deacon, was the fact that they continued to taunt Jared while a rampaging beast in the distance was single handedly deforesting the area. Deacon decided to worry about the immediate threat and worry about the Mastodon if it got closer.

“… and that’s why you’ll be entombed with that strange white haired human,” taunted one of the Dwellers in leather armor.

Deacon felt like he missed something important at the beginning of that sentence. Fortunately for him, he could always ask their ghosts later with SAYance. Now it was time to make a mess.

“How did you get out?” asked the closest Dweller wearing leather armor.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a question for you. Which leg do you want me to break first, the left or the right?” asked Deacon, before slamming his right foot into the Dwellers right knee joint bending it the wrong way.

The sound of the Dwellers crunching patella made the mage drop his wand and begin projectile vomiting. It was clear that the magic user was not used to close quarters combat. The Dweller with the shattered kneecap fell to the ground screaming while clutching his leg. The other Dweller in armor didn’t miss a beat and dove at Deacon attempting to bring him to the ground. Deacon went insubstantial and smiled as his assailant passed right through his body. With practiced grace, the Dweller rolled back up to his feet and pulled a short sword.

“It’s some kind of spirit. Use magic on him, you’re a worthless piece of shit!” screamed the Dweller.

Just as the mage gathered his wits and began to cast again, Deacon smashed the skull of the crippled Dweller with his foot. Blood and brain matter sprayed all over the mage. That’s when the fear chance from Deacon’s Mangler title activated. The mage spun around and ran for it.

“Coward!” called the sword wielder as he and Deacon began circling each other.

“Last chance. Once I get my hands on you, you’ll just end up like your boy over here. Smashed into the dirt,” said Deacon as he began stretching his arms across his chest.

His words had no effect on the Dweller who bit his thumb then dragged the blood along the blade. A dull red shock of energy ran along the blade before disappearing. Deacon knew the real danger in the group must have been this one. The Dweller swung the blade in a series of patterns in front of him before settling into a stance and beckoning Deacon forward.

Deacon kicked his right foot out flinging the remains of the fallen Dweller at him. Two quick flicks of the swordsman’s wrist batted the viscera out of the way, but that was all the distraction Deacon needed. Deacon slammed his right fist into his opponents left shoulder after triggering Spectral Dash. The impact broke the Dwellers clavicle in three places earning Deacon a sharp hiss of pain from him. The swordsman’s elbows were tucked into his side as he tried to keep his shoulders from slumping in opposite directions. The sword hit the ground with a pop and sizzle sound that shocked Deacon. The blade sunk six inches into the dirt and wisps of smoke were coming from the impact site.

“Were you trying to do that to me? Might have worked too. For that I’ll give you an extra special death,” commented Deacon before planting his left foot on the shuddering mans left leg. He then grabbed him by both shoulders and twisted forcing the flesh to tear. The Dweller’s shoulders ended up facing behind him. Blood poured out of the ruined body before the twitching stopped.

Deacon absorbed both of their souls before turning back to the tower. It took five minutes, but Deacon managed to smash the stone around the entrance open enough that Jared could squeeze out. While he was doing that, the dropped wand and any loose coins that were on the other too bodies floated into the air before they were deposited into Deacon’s bag.

“Thanks, I didn’t think I was getting out of their once I saw you go through the wall. We should probably get going before—” Jared just stopped speaking his eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong with you?” Deacon said as he heard the sound of snuffling coming from behind him.

He slowly turned around to as the lowered trunk of the Mastodon began wrapping around him. He tried to phase through it but something about the creature prevented that. While Jared was still in sight, he sent him a quick party invite. At this point Deacon was being lifted high into the air by the monster. As the trunk turned toward the Mastodon, Deacon triggered Inspect.

The Mastodon- This legendary progenitor of Giants is known to roam the mountain range north of the Griffin Kingdom. His golden tusks are rumored to be able to pierce dragon hide. This beast is said to be ancient and unflinching. As with all named beasts, it is recommended to avoid this creature unless you have prepared extensively and have reached level fifty. Level ???/ Legendary, Mystical, Alpha Beast.

“Fuck me,” said Deacon, as he racked his brains figure a way out of this.

“Hey! Follow me you blasted walking mountain!” yelled Jared as he ran off towards the Shattered Sky.

Deacon was struggling to break the constricting grip of this elephant trunk. He was able to see the eyes of beast tracking Jared before it turned in his direction and took a step. It seemed to be ignoring Deacon for now to give chase to the Deep Dweller. That was fine with Deacon as his back began to itch again.

Typhus stabbed to his left and then to his right. The Goblin soldiers were trying to climb the walls of the fort and the defenders killing them ten to twenty at a time. It still wasn’t enough, and they were all reaching the end of their stamina bars. Alfred managed to free himself at some point and tackle the cyclops before it got any closer to the fort. Alfred’s right leg was no longer functioning the way it should. There were several spears and smashed bits of goblin in the joint. Typhus had no clue when he got back up but that was fine. The dungeon spirit would do his part. He had no time to observe though as his position was going to be overrun.

Then for no reason the Goblins all gave up the field. They began falling upon their dead and crippled fellow soldiers. Even some of Typhus’s defenders were grabbed and dragged back into the cavern. They were eating them. Clumps of Goblins in all directions were grabbing corpses and those who could no longer fight. Handfuls of flesh and blood were shoved into their little green mouths. The sound of chewing was enough to shake the resolve of the remaining defenders.

“What are they doing? Those are their comrades,” screamed one adventurer on the wall.

“It’s Hipag, they continue to fuel that blessing through cannibalism,” said Typhus before breaking from the wall to take stock of his troops.

Things were looking bad. He almost wished Deacon were here, even if it was only for the group regeneration. He had someone take his spot on the wall and jogged down to the officers building. He opened the door to the sounds of Breem arguing with someone through the crystals.

“No, my lord, it’s too dangerous. You are the first son of House Bloodbeard. You must be protected at all costs,” complained Breem.

“Where is Typhus? I will come down there if things are looking bad. Father is arguing in the Stone Council as we speak. There is something wrong, reasonable arguments are being shoved away and the Hascavir’s have enough votes to silence him in the chambers. They keep saying the goblin issue is being dealt with but no one from the military has been mobilized. Breem what is the situation?” queried Daskus from the crystals.

“Get out of the way, Breem. Daskus, send every man, woman, and teenager that can hold a weapon. We will be overrun in a matter of hours. Daskus, hello?” asked Typhus before the crystals light went dull.

“No, we won’t,” came the voice of Ralph from the doorway. He was holding up an unconscious Breem’s arm with a bracelet encrusted with small rubies.

“Wait, what in the ten hells is going on?” Typhus asked outraged.

“Looks like your man servant has been a pawn of Elder Ruby this whole time. It doesn’t matter,” Ralph said dropping the butler to the ground.

“Look I’m glad to see you, but we have a big problem out there. We need to get word back to the council about what’s happening…” Typhus trailed off as he heard the stomping of feet from outside.

Ralph just gestured for Typhus to look outside. Typhus burst through the door to see at least ten platoons of House Smitehammer troops marching along the walls and taking the field out in front of the fort. Magrumin Smitehammer, the sovereign of House Smitehammer was walking through the fort in a set of full plate mail armor with the biggest sword Typhus had ever seen lazily draped across his shoulders. It looked to be at least four feet wide with an edge meant for killing multiple enemies at once. Now it made sense why his father was being stone walled in the council chambers. Magrumin was a constant foil for House Hascavir since House Smitehammer was ranked second. There was no way Magrumin would miss battle on this scale. Typhus wondered if they planned this. Magrumin stopped in front of Typhus.

“You’ve done well Bloodbeard. A credit to your tainted name. The children of Mantarok will take it from here. Ralph, this is where you earn your specialization human. You have been given your squad of one hundred. I expect only acceptable losses,” said Magrumin.

“Yes, sir!” replied Ralph before vaulting over the fort wall to land in a group of steel wearing, pike wielding, soldiers.

“Orders, sir?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Kill them all!” yelled Ralph as he pulled his sword from its scabbard.

The sword began glowing with holy light. It pulsed up and down the blade. Ralph even noticed his health bar jumped up by two hundred percent thanks to his blessing from Mantarok. That was when a horn blew from deeper within the cavern.

New flags began popping up further back. They were all black with the image of Orc tusks sewn into them. The Black Guard began marching from the gateway to the Deep Cavern. They were hundreds deep all clad in the same black armor as the one fought in battle at Hillcrest. While there were many, the majority of them were Goblins. The Orcs were section commanders. They marched past where the battle between the cyclops and war golem raged. The war golem looked to be in bad shape with its one crippled leg and bent spear. More of the cavern roof started to fall halting the forward momentum of both sides. Then an enormous slab of rock hit the ground easily separating both halves of the battlefield and killing hundreds of the original Goblin troops. Everyone looked up to see enormous giant feet dangling from the roof. They were tinged a dark bronze color but mostly round in shape with four stubby toes.

Far above the battle, the Mastodon’s body was poking through a pit fall. Its arms were held out to either side of it preventing it from falling down into the cavern below. Its trunk unfurled so it could grab onto a nearby tree for a greater hold. Subsequently, Deacon was now falling past the body of the enormous giant. As he passed the stomach area, he could have sworn he saw a long segmented eye stalk sticking out of the rocks to his left. It followed his descent into the darkness.