---Dilia POV

A shape, a swaying head attached, floating around and between the stalagmites, approaches. What. Is. That? I lean against the ‘door’ my faint chance of escape, I refuse to surrender this up, it is mine! As it looms and lurches towards me, my eyes need to rise to meet the beady purple pair on its bald head. A large bipedal creature its dull blackish-brown hide triggers a memory as I catch glimpses in the poor light of the cavern.

Its maw opens, revealing sharp pointed teeth, is the creature smiling or eager to feed upon me? The fetid, rotten body odour arrives before the creature and I knew, oh ancestors I knew, and I need to clamp down on my bowels to retain my water. An Ogre! Devoured by a beast! Defending myself or wishing for freedom with my back to this door, my bravery left me, and my body shakes beyond my control. The brute capable of ripping a limb off my body, while I live to watch!

It stops at Brak’s corpse! It stopped! Surely Brak would satisfy it! Sorry Brak, you save my life with your sacrifice.

The Ogre looms over Brak’s body, I should face away, he is about to shred and rend, claim his first morsel. There will be blood splatter as he waves a limb …

What? The Ogre drags Brak’s body away by his feet-paws and my eyes follow the Ogre weaving and bobbing through the stalagmites until distance and poor light defeat me. We were told, they consume your body, and tear your limbs off if you ever lose a fight or battle with an Ogre, including Orcs as I recall the speech of our old Scout Master.

Quick death. One or two limbs and my body rapidly bleeds out. Why didn’t I yell and shout, anger him somehow, to end this futility?

---Aphrodite POV

I wake from my tree perch, able to sleep and remain upright, talons gripping the branch subconsciously. The shadows of the forest cover me, although daylight streams through various gaps in the forest canopy nearby.

“First.”

There isn’t an answer, should I worry? I try again, several times.

I take flight, extending my wings and pushing the air beneath them following a sunlight shaft to escape, rising above the forest canopy. The glistening ribbon of the river draws me as I follow the last sight I held of my daughters.

---

The shadow of the mountain fights the dusk to envelop me in darkness. I swallow another handful of water from the cold fasting flowing river. Narrow now, beneath the shadow of the mountains.

“First.”

“Mother! Mother!”

Her joy is second to mine, my relief overwhelming.

“Mother?”

“First my mission is complete, did you find the males?”

“Yes Mother, they attained lordship over a tribe of Kobolds, me, Bucket One and Bucket Two are observing them. We are uncertain of their loyalty Mother.”

“I am beside the river, under the eaves of the mountain …”

“We know Mother, we’ve been looking out for you, Bucket Two flies to meet you now. She will lead you to us.”

---Dilia POV

Exhausted. My eyes wish to shut, my body wishes to crumple to the ground. The last of my water is now drunk as I toss the water skin from me, my hope with it.

His shadow and stink announce his presence, dazed and delirious I didn’t notice the shambling beast approach. Fear is beyond me, I survived to the last of my strength, honouring my kin now prepared to feed the monster looming over me.

I slip down.

Regaining my senses, the ogre beast is beside me. The door has shifted. Did the beast shove it? I fall backwards now, into a doorway vacant of stone. I roll over and crawl along the newly created passageway, ignoring the stink and the agent of my release. Is this release? Or, as I emerge, with daylight in my eyes, in a torturous tease of some sort, he instead strikes to devour my pitiful flesh.

He grunts at me and extends one arm. The other waves me along. His putrid odour is replaced with the myriad scents of the forest, I remember these from our first camp, one a sweet flower another from the undergrowth dampness. Stepping down from the ledge, the first step high and I stumble.

A scrapping sound chases after me, my hope is lost, false is my freedom, a trick! Better to die surrounded by fresh living forest instead of a dank dark dungeon, my last memory is an announcement.

{You have left the Dungeon of Azizos.}

An unknown lump hits my back and I stumble again, this time ending up flat on my belly, splayed across the dirt and pebbles, which surround the Dungeon Wall. I am not wounded; I am not slain. Rolling over to face my attacker, another bundle is thrown my way and I roll again to avoid it as it plonks onto the ground beside me.

Insects and the occasional animal howl accompany the scrapping of the Dungeon Door closing before my eyes. In moments, the Dungeon Wall is smooth and complete, my former presence insignificant, my current escape unimportant. The Dungeon allowed me to leave, it controls all within commanding the beast to open the door with a strength I didn’t ever possess and just as important, not to eat me. Why? Surely it must suspect I will report to others of my ordeal. They will prepare and therefore the danger to the Dungeon tenfold, twenty-fold or more!

I locate two backpacks and two empty water skins by the pale light of the moon and sniff out the location of our former camp, how many days ago, unknown. Under the branches and leaves of the forest edge, I locate our cache of firewood and strike a fire in the still present ring of stones, which marked the centre of our former camp, the campfire.

With the firelight under the forest foliage, I quickly pick the patch of sweet flowers I located with my nose. As I pick, I suck the sweet nectar from each, their moisture and energy are for me alone. I harvest them all, ignoring my aches and pains, eventually crawling back to the warmth of my campfire, oblivious to any danger. Fickle fate cruel if I die in my sleep after surviving the Dungeon, although I call upon my ancestors to watch over me.

---

I am alive in the morning. I am alive! A frenzied buzzing disturbs my sleep and as I glance over with a half-opened eye to its source, bees, the size of my head large bees. They search for certain flowers and by luck or fate, I disposed of the ones I stole from them near the flower patch. My thirst mounts and it is mid-morning before they leave, and I relax.

I search a backpack and find the dried meat rations and devour them without a second thought. My urgency is water. I remove the essential items from both backpacks and pack them into one. I leave one of the two water skins behind.

We didn’t find the ancient trail to the Dungeon; thus, I continue the search for it, travelling East with the sun in my eyes. My bow and quiver of arrows are with me, I doubt the pull strength remains in my weakened arms, therefore I unstring my bow and strap it across my pack. Instead, I am armed with cheese. A round of cheese being nibbled as I plod step after step.

---

Stubbing my toe on a stone and cursing I notice another stone and then another. These are set in place, unnaturally so. The trail? I search for a clear passage through the forest, tree branches and limbs, green leaves generously decorating them encroach and disguise. I struggle tramping upon the ancient trail, the sunlight trying desperately to penetrate and at times succeeding. After pushing away the undergrowth I surrender tired and beaten. I drop to my knees and crawl.

I judge my pace is the same and the effort, less. Crawling also allows me to sniff the ground and in this way, I locate an ancient cistern, damp putrefying vegetation drawing my nose. I slash the branches and twigs away with my dagger to gain access, clearing rotten vegetation and undergrowth away from the cistern itself.

Holding my breath, I turn the small tap. Nothing. I turn the tap back, breathe, wait for a few heartbeats, and turn the tap again. Nothing. I clear around the cistern, fortunately choosing the correct side as the pump handle, hardwood braced with bronze reveals itself to me.

I start pumping, pushing down, lifting. Air is whistling about it and as I tire, I lose hope. I need water; therefore, I must continue. A splash! A feint, joyous thirst-quenching splash! Hope renews me and I pump until the splash is a splosh, the cistern containing a level of water. I eagerly return to the tap.

A silent prayer to my ancestors and I slowly, gingerly turn the tap. A drip. Frustrated, I am certain this is not all, I turn the tap closed and then open. A steady leak. It is enough. I position my head upside-down and place my maw under the tap’s spout and lap up the offered water. Then I reach for my waterskin.

Like a plot, the tap senses I am about to desert it and the steady leak bursts forth into a mini torrent and my face and muzzle are saturated. I snort, quickly placing my water skin under the spout, needing to turn the tap off when my waterskin is full.

I rest, leaning against the cistern, contemplating my journey. Rufus and Fesser, champions of my kin dead. Sheala as well I presume, although I didn’t recognise her name. Then there is Brak. If I can write this tale, what shall I say of him?

I continue my crawl until dusk. With the night air, comes a change in the direction of the wind and with the change, the wind carries the heavy scent of death. Bad blood, poison? If poison I could approach reasonably safely, what of disease? I decide, no choice, I must continue my crawl, to sleep with the smell of death hovering on the wind, impossible.

The full moonlight surprises me as I burst through a knot of leaves and thin branches. Able to stand at last the trail before me a wonder, clumps of branches neatly piled to one side, the way clear. With no foliage to intercede, the death wind is strong and clear. I continue to follow the ancient trail and drop to my knees heavy with sorrow.

A clump of branches beside the trail cover death. Coppery-iron blood mixes with decaying flesh and rotting fur. Clearing the branches carefully under the moonlight I discover them.

Four, possibly five bodies, the corpses piled upon each other, blood oozing, although dead, from mouth and anus the flesh deflated and withered. Noble Tiger Beast kin were destroyed by disease, insidious, the dying taking days full of agony. I need to honour them, return them to the ground. I howl to the moon! My strength would fail me and the moonlight too weak to guide me, I stagger past them to camp upwind and await the morning.

As I settle, the putrefying scent remains coiled about me. There are others. Oh, ancestors why? How? No Beast kin deserves this fate.

I am well past the initial corpse pile when I discover another. Their blood is cold, and although their bravery is never in doubt, Lizard Beast kin equally felled by the evil affliction. Tears stream from my eyes, soaking my fur, I need to struggle on, my legs burning from fatigue and my heart full of grief.

I am not surprised when the scent continues, carried upon a cruel unfeeling messenger, the wind. Spying the silhouette well before meeting him, I drop to one knee. I wouldn’t recognise his name or his fame, to his kin though, no doubt a hero’s corpse lays before me upon my path.

---Aphrodite POV

We wait and observe patiently. The past few days one of the males leads a hunting party, a different one each time and on the verge of confronting the latest one the three emerge, a crowd of kobold followers surrounding them.

In order, they complete a speech or announcement and their followers as one, raise their weapons saluting and cheering. Several female kobolds equipped with spears and bows file out from the Kobold Cave Entrance and kneel before the triumvirate of Karpy males. Another cheer from the crowd and then they race off into the forest.

I notice the amusement on the faces of my daughters and try to comprehend their response, until frustrated I ask.

“Why are you so amused daughters?”

“They dominate because they evolved their Karpy form and now they occupy a position of power over lesser beings, basking in the worship and glory willingly offered to them. We know they are less though Mother,” says First.

“The females must hunt and return with a kill to earn the honour of copulating with them, the strongest for the strongest. Little do they realise the males are ours and we don’t share to weaken our blood kin,” says Bucket Two, growling out each word. Bucket One and First showing teeth chanting in agreement.

“Mother we wish to hunt,” suggests First.

“I will await your return, go forth daughters.”

---

The morning extends into the afternoon and there is concern and panic in the Kobold camp. The feast of the morning done, the open fires ready for the victorious huntresses and their kills now extinguished to conserve cut logs. The triumvirate gathering to discuss their dilemma more often and more frequently as the sun sinks beneath the horizon.

Finally, a commotion, the Kobolds on the edge of the feast clearing retreat towards their rulers, the crowd retreating with them. Stumbling onto the clearing are three sticks of five female Kobolds. A pole rests upon each shoulder, left and right, the two poles bound together the rope looping around their necks, and their hands and forearms bound to each pole behind their heads.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.10}

The triumvirate stand, outrage upon their faces. First, Bucket One and Bucket Two follow their captives, the triumvirate cast nervous eyes about searching for guidance, failing, stepping back until they fall back into their throne-like chairs.

“You dare taint our Kin by breeding with lessor females! We will not permit such weakness!” screams First.

My daughters take flight and sing their lament.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.11}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.12}

I sweep away the notifications.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.13}

{Colubrine Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Colubrine Essence Level 1.0}

Again, I sweep away the notifications.

The triumvirate pushes themselves up from their chairs unable to resist the summons and bow as my daughters gracefully land before them. A triumvirate bodyguard is feathered, three arrows sprouting from his chest as he attempts to intervene. The message is clear to an audience unable to flee, trying to comprehend how these new females exert control over their new lords and what it means.

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.14}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 4.15}

{Colubrine Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Colubrine Essence Level 1.1}

{Colubrine Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Colubrine Essence Level 2.0}

{Feline Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Feline Essence Level 5.0}

{Colubrine Essence absorbed. + 100.0% Colubrine Essence Level 2.1}

“First, I must investigate upriver, can I assume my daughters will reclaim their males?”

“Yes Mother, we will adopt this Kobold Tribe as our own as we need to lay our eggs. The males to be made useful to protect them until hatched.”

---

I roost across the river, the ancient township directly opposite. I awake late the next day to multiple Essence notifications; the harvest is magnificent! There is a twinge of guilt over the Feline Essence, they were precious to me, or at least one, motherly instinct bubbles up within me and then fails to endure for more than a moment. They are prey, my essence to collect, so I can evolve, grow, and therefore follow Zeus’ design.

A deep thunderous, belly laugh echoes within my consciousness. Not a laugh at me, a laugh with me, congratulating and celebrating my triumph and its triumph! Zeus?

Scanning the azure sky, fluffy clouds skid across the roof of this world providing shade to someone, somewhere. The sky is Zeus’ realm, not on this world though, although his laugh, thunderous is one of his aspects and somehow, he is aware of my success?

I comply and enact Zeus’s design willingly, accepting this burden to benefit the one I owe my existence to. I must trust I am being pushed in the right direction, an unseen hand guiding me as the wind does to those fluffy clouds. My protecting shade is utterly devoted to one purpose and if Zeus spies upon me then I hope the distraction delivers ease and comfort to my true God, my Creator. When I complete Zeus’ plan and I will; my Creator will be freed from his chains.

---

Elsewhere, a small yellow-green gelatinous blob bubbles and burbles, and several spits of slime fly free. Regret upon regret builds as each essence is harvested, Beast kin dying like insects, the bravest of the brave, the strongest of the strong and the wisest of the wise. The summoning, its' ancient carefully crafted Quester Geas gathering them, meat for the slaughter, the off-world disease virulent and deadly, few able to resist once exposed.

The anguish and torment of their deaths, the poor choices which led to the invasion of this creation of Zeus and the consequences, quake, and shudder within its gelatinous body. Pieces of slime fly off unrestrained by sanity or will …

Character Sheet: Aphrodite Name: Aphrodite Culture: Greek Mythos Race: Harpy Superior Spirit: Human Body: Living Basalt Soul: Dungeon Dominate Sentient Dominate: 52% Monster Dominate: 27% Dungeon Dominate: 65% Hominine Essence: Level 10 Avine Essence: Level 10 Dragon Essence: Level 0 Feline Essence: Level 5 Colubrine Essence: Level 2.1 Strength: 65 Grasp: 75 Toughness: 65 Constitution: 65 Vigour: 77 Endurance: 65 Dexterity: 85 Agility: 75 Quickness: 75 Wisdom: 75 Perception: 59 Mettle: 59 Intelligence: 50 Willpower: 75 Power: 75 Charisma: 50 Glamour: 50 Beauty: 100 Languages: Greek Kobold Orc Ogre Feline Gifts: Regeneration Prolific Fertility Shadow Hide Silent Step Spear: Level 10 Halberd: Level 1 Bow: Level 7 Sword: Level 15 Track: Level 5 Trapping: Level 7 Shield: Level 3 Armour Affinity: Level 3