To the bottom! The Deepcombers are professional dungeon crawlers in a print-crazed medieval society where reckless teenagers reign supreme above ground and blood thirsty creatures dwell below. Lonastasius is a 17 year old mutant slave who breaks his...
Lon crossed the temple bridge and stepped into the smoky world beyond. Inside the miasma he saw how Atarskal burned. Small flames licked at many wood buildings and bucket lines stretched through the construction site which was also charred and ruined. He gasped when he saw what structure the Calbians struggled to save; it was Atar's lodge that was ablaze.
Another incoming shot lit-up the sky. A flaming bag of oily pitch landed amidst a crowd of firefighters and the sudden strike set their cart alight. When the fiery shot hit the wagon its resin and pitch made it a pyre which became a flame fountain that sprayed liquid fire. Those wet with flame stopped, dropped, and rolled to extinguish themselves. All but one. One poor soul with a captain's hat had an orange furry coat that continued to flicker. It was Jarl of course; his outline was unmistakable. He'd removed his jacket to quench the sting, but his fur covered arm continued combusting; the flammable pitch was in his hide and wouldn't stop burning no matter how hard he tried to smother it.
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"Som Gum Gei," Lon shouted after hastily arranging his first-ever water-from-air construct in his mind. It was the first time, (as the one he'd done below was only a gatherer glyph, som) and he surprised himself with the speed of his creation. The words popped in the smoky mist and the Calbians turned in shock to see him emerge with a ball of water on his wrist.
The bubble grew with every step Lon took toward his friend. It was just like the battle with the cave-slime all over again, but this time Lon brought cool clear water. He hustled straight for Jarl.
The big cat saw him approach and glimpsed what he carried and crouched to make his shoulder ready. Splash. Lon let go of the new glyph just as the load became too heavy to lift. The lionfeigor was knocked down and drenched under a tun of water. He almost drowned under the wave and he coughed and hissed to catch his breath. His body steamed, but the fire was extinguished. Everyone in the area clapped and cheered.
"Lon!" It was Tharus who spoke and his leather jacket also smoked and was burned from the Crolean pitch. "You've returned. I heard them whissper it..."
"Just in time lad," Jarl gasped as he recovered in the mud puddle. "My thanks."
"Atar's lodge. It's lost." Lon watched the roof collapse. No water balls would save it now.
Tharus and Jarl looked across the construction yard at their failure and closer at hand at their ruined wagon.
"It doesn't matter. The giant is dead." Jarl stood on his feet again, "did you hear?"
"Yes. I saw him fall." Lon watched the giant's house burn now and he grew really sad considering how a lifetime of memories would be consumed. Inside that structure were priceless artifacts and a vast collection of deepcombers' memorabilia, art, books, sculptures and countless one-of-a-kind keepsakes from another age.
