“Giants might be large intimidating fellows and the only ones that can drink a dwarf under the table barrel for barrel but they are one of the most peaceful races around. Seldom seen out of their mountain and hill villages, these are a people who pride themselves farmers and hunters of great beasts. Though their smithing cannot contest that of the dwarves, they make mean farming tools…never ever try stealing from a giant kin's farm; You were warned” – excerpt from Saelethil Greatstrider’s Wanderlusts: Peoples and Places.

The road was two muddy ruts of wagon tracks that had not seen frequent use judging by the grass growing in the middle of the dirt track. They crossed a stream, where the track also cut through, splashing water with the engine’s exhaust as they passed.

The duo entered the farmlands proper, separated from the road by wooden picket fences. A variety of crops planted for the first spring rains flourished in well-tended fields.

Ground creeping crops were planted among cereals and vegetables to keep down the moisture in the soil. Interspersed between one patch of crops and the next looked like paths leading to farm huts where the field hands would rest or watch over the crops from pests.

The two enjoyed the idyllic scenery of a well-tended farm behind a picketed fence before they reached the main farmhouse—a big farmhouse with 8 foot doors and windows about half as big; they’d arrived at the giantkin’s farm.

Slenlog was the giant farmer’s name. A hill giant, he was unlike Arthur’s expectations. He’d thought that the giant would be somewhat of brobdingnagian proportions, Slenlog was just a giant human with a bad case of tanning under the sun.

He was stout, had the arms of a farmer as thick as an ale barrel, a bald head and a red beard braided and adorned with beads and other knick knacks. Arthur half expected him to speak in old Nordic and chug a tankard of mead.

Overall, he was surprisingly immaculate and clean for a farmer. He had giant leather boots, a rough tunic made of fur that went to his thighs, secured by a leather belt with a buckle that had a lupine skull; a blizzard wolf Nora supplied.

His trousers were rolled up at the calves showing the hairy legs underneath; same color as his beard. And he was affable and jolly as he toted his giant reed hut and his fork hoe to meet them.

“ Hels zo du adventurers, ” He called out. His voice was a deep resonant bass like a guy with a cold screaming down a well shaft. His footsteps didn’t make tremors, and neither did they cave in the ground. If anything he was as gentle as a breeze.

“Ah, meg pardons, Slenlog er still learning common tongue,” he seemed rather flustered, as he spoke in his baritone. Maybe giants, like their Nordic counterparts, loved to sing? But he didn’t have the Nordic accent though; a pity.

“It is fine; we understand you. And greetings to you too. My name is Red and this is Snow; we’re Twilight and we came here at your request about a groundhog extermination.” Arthur responded, taking over the conversation. Like infernal and Erythean Common; it just came naturally to him almost like the World was bending over backwards just to help him.

“Good, good. Slenlog was worrit but er glad du understand,” he beamed, showing his pearly white teeth. A rather expressive big fellow; Arthur was half tempted to drop the mask and enjoy conversing with the giant. Maybe some other time.

“You put in a request about ground direhogs? I assume they’re on your farm?”

“Yes, yes. Slenlog found their den. Was too big zo enter,” he said sadly, as he motioned for them to follow. “Almost lost potato crop.”

They passed a newly constructed barn, with goats as tall as Slenlog’s waist—alpine goats; ruminating on whatever they’d munched last. There were chickens as big as turkeys and geese gallivanting around the farm in search of grub with their young ones as well as domesticated boars rooting through freshly tilled ground for gods knew what they ate.

Around them grew patches of melons, pumpkins and cucumbers, grown in their rows and then tomatoes and radishes, and finally, they came to the potato patch. Unlike the other vegetables and above ground crops; this part of the farm contained the most acreage under a single plant. However, it was also the area that had seen an infestation of the pest.

While Arthur hadn’t reached the D index of the bestiary yet he bore no illusions that what they were about to face would be an easy chore. They were a peak Silver ranked threat and that is why they were given the request. Ordinarily a party would have been required to exterminate them.

“Watch dun foot, ground er weak,” the farmer said, pointing to an area of the ground where he’d stumbled and left two giant sized indentations of feet in the dirt. They saw the cavity in the ground where the pests had come out during the night munched on some vegetables and decided they liked potatoes best. Even monsters had no respect for greens.

“Is this it?” Nora enquired examining the hole in the earth. The bottom was a significant drop away from ground level but nothing they couldn’t handle.

“ Slenlog would appreciate it if du chases away pests; they keep on digging even when am use meg Ter magisk zo block their warrens.” He clicked his tongue in indignation.

‘Earth magic user as a farmer eh’

Arthur grunted in assent; they would get the buggers for sure. The giant bid them farewell as he went back to his farmhouse.

“How do you want to go about this?” Arthur asked his companion as he stowed away his sword and hoverboard.

“Scout them out to see how many of them there are in one place and look for exits they could use to retreat.”

A close quarters tussle with monsters below ground left long weapons out of the question when the tunnels would come to his head in a crouch too. He armed his dagger and took out a Lux crystal inset into a silver alloy wrapped in leather to make a torch—no time to learn light spells

Maybe he could suffocate them or drown them in their warrens using air and water magic? No, that would have risked spoiling the soil; maybe he could cover their exits with water instead; they had to be deeper than the crop layer. Then again, they would have to get up close and personal to get their hands dirty.

They jumped into the hole, the first few paces easy enough to see with the light from outside. The further they went however, it got darker till their eyes were struggling to pick out details. Arthur powered the Lux crystal by sending mana through the handle and lit their way.

“I’m going on ahead,” said Nora as she disappeared into the shadows. Arthur kept walking, ears peeled for any sort of sound that would alert him to the creatures. The tunnel was moist and smelt richly of soil churned by the creatures’ passing as well as ammonia; no doubt their droppings. He saw the claw marks riddling the walls; their digits had to be the size of his forearms from the divots scoured into them.

‘Now I get they why are silver ranked; if that’s the size of their diggers and we’re fighting in their turf damn…I’ll have to read more on how they rate threat levels.’ Arthur thought as he picked his way through the subterranean burrow.

At some point they seemed to have even tunneled through rock; either they had magic of their own or they were stupidly strong to bore through it or both. Then he came to a small cavern and crossroads. At that moment Nora appeared from her [Shadow port].

“Contact?”

Nora nodded an affirmative, “I’ve dispatched the ones in the periphery and the ones near two exits; I couldn’t collapse the tunnels though.”

“The nest?”

“Found it; it’s pretty big…the first ones were only scouts seeking out a new source of food; they have young.”

‘No time to get into ethical dilemmas now; I’m getting paid to do a job…sorry little guys.’

Arthur fought an enraged mother. An angry den mother who’d seen her litter exterminated; no, murdered in cold blood. It matched him blow for blow, with forepaws as big as his torso and sharp claws as long as his arms.

The only saving grace was that the den mother’s nest was larger than the rest of the tunnel. It allowed him the luxury of whipping out his sword which gave him the reach to parry away the heavy blows from the frenzied creature.

Her scarlet orbs of malevolence bore into him with a fury that would have made the Arthur of long ago stumble; but here? Fighting with a beast larger than himself was altogether a different sort of exhilaration; did he fear he was becoming a battle junkie? Now was not the time; he was finally growing into his nascent strength which had lain dormant all this time.

“On your left!—”

Arthur pivoted, leaning out of the way of one of the den mother’s minions as it lunged at him from the cavern walls. The creatures literally swam through the ground, and only Nora’s agility and speed could keep up with their emergence. How many had she dispatched while he fought the big bad? Ten, twenty? He’d stopped counting.

The den mother saw him dodge the blow and tried to go for the kill by raking across his torso. Arthur immediately interposed the length of the Zweihander between his body and the blow—

“Oof!” Arthur grunted as the blow was transmitted through his bones. His legs dug divots in the ground as his muscles strained from the den mother’s side swipe. Another came from the den mother’s other limb but Arthur was already on the move.

Probing attacks were ineffectual as the monster was augmented by earth magics, its hide was as tough as rocks and his attacks only left scratches but never reached the flesh underneath.

If only he had World skills for his sword; but he didn’t so he had to make do. In a battle of attrition, he was going to tap out long before the monster did. He just needed to keep it busy until Nora finished off the smaller specimens.

“Incoming!—” Nora warned as she shadow ported into the den mother’s face well clear of its swipes. She raked her daggers through one of its eyes before disappearing before into the shadows as the mid-air tumble reached its apex.

The creature growled in anger as the attack scored a hit on one of her vulnerable eyes. She snarled at the air, blinded on her left side, which Arthur did not fail to capitalize—

‘Got you!’ Arthur sneered, getting under the monster’s armpit where the monster’s earth magical augmentations did not cover it.

He cleaved at the deltoid muscle with the blue Mithril sword charged with writhing bolts of lightning—and that side was put out of commission. The den mother convulsed as the lightning earthed itself on through the animal. Poetic given that its affinity was earth.

Earlier lightning attacks had been dissipated by the magic augmenting it but getting past its armor did the trick. It listed to the side as the muscles on its left half locked in shock. The smell of roasted hog permeated the cavern—the monster was down…but not out.

Seeing as it was now at a disadvantage; its litter of fighters already decimated by the rogue-like Nora; the den mother tried to retreat into the ground.

‘Ha nice try, I put your diggers out of commission’ Arthur smirked as battle high wore off and the aches, and bruises from the fight made themselves known. Nora ported beside him, still battle ready with her daggers poised like a mantid’s raptorial forelegs.

He looked at where he’d been grazed at the shoulder; the sand wurm hide had held nicely but there was a welt underneath the armor. He grimaced; he was going to have to do something about those blunt blows.

But something unexpected happened; the mole activated a skill which they hadn’t accounted for, the ground beneath them spider webbed, Arthur cried out in alarm— Nora tried to reach for him to port them out of the cavern but she was a moment too late

The ground beneath gave way, plunging them into the depths of Eryth—