There is No Epic Loot Here, Only Puns

120: The Great DEO... Hero?

A prophecy, told to the people long ago, spoke of the tall beings. Those that came from the outerworld. Their very existence made them stand out like red beetle paint against pale wood. Some tall beings had already long disappeared in the distant past. The most well known recurring in many tales was the dark warrior. Unlike their race, a close knit community with minor variants, the tall beings came in many extreme shapes. Some had curving jaws like animals, others had fibres on their head as bright as gold, and some defied comprehension as they donned a truly alien form.

Their language seemed to be a crude version, or perhaps an imitation, of the Great Mother's voice. Unlike her soothing direct connection, the tall ones used harsh words and volumes to transmit their intent. What exactly that intent was would never be clear, but their actions were sufficient to understand the fundamental aspect.

They sought to challenge their world, perhaps out of pleasure or due to some instinctive drive. They played the puzzles, somehow impressed the brave heart of Sir Fran, and now... some were here once more. Unlike the Dark Warrior or the Burning Gold or the Flowing Ice... these tall beings seemed weaker, unrefined to an extent that made the whispers of the prophecy ring louder.

The thrum started, merely distracted by new steeds gifted to them by the Great Mother. Those would be addressed soon, but the entire grove was gathered in the City. A shuffle of the elder, the first of them all, stepped towards the plateau that overlooked the majority of the city.

He waved a hand as the Priest, the Tinker, and the Fungalmancer stood guard behind him, his loyal advisors.

From his hand spores came out in distinct patterns and with increasing frequency before abruptly slowing. The language of the Deep People was not something anyone could learn, but they also admired the way their demi-gods seemed to be able to converse in the tall one's languages.

The King, Mushy, was able to even match the tall ones in power and keep them safe. The dark whisperer of Maestro could not be ignored and if the tall ones stumbled upon his dark dream-like domain, their escape was not assured, and the creator child, Missy, spoke rarely but with great wisdom.

The Elder spoke of the Great Mother's relic. How it was vibrating, a hint that the time of trials was upon them. Their holy duty was finally here.

The Elder waved a hand and intricate spore patterns revealed that the last testing of the gold fire fibres were complete as he looked at the priest, who nodded, her own pattern expressing complex ideas and notions.

Most didn't quite follow the gestures as the Priest explained how fire was the burning of... air? The Priest was the expert of all things magical and mystical, but she also seemed to draw on a hidden wealth of knowledge from the Great Mother. Usually, this kind of babble came from the Tinker...

The Priest must have seen their cloud of confused spores, because she sighed and simplified her message, her spores making much greater sense to the viewers. She had discovered a way to use the fibre from the Tall Being of Burning Gold to unlock a hidden potential inside themselves. She was able to tap into the great network of the Mother and saw a path not yet taken for them.

The path of the Purifiers.

The Elder nodded before he turned the conversation back to the main topic.

The Prophecy. The great words that were told to them many, many days ago, passed down by oldest to youngest through spores, taking many hours to spread to the four corners of their people.

The words of the Great Mother.

Only the Elder and the Priest could quite understand it and it's translation was not quite simple to Spore.