Flying in silence as he navigated the shroom-tops whilst filled with self-loathing and disgust at his own behaviour, Gerald wanted nothing more than a drink, or more likely a dozen. It would serve to make it easier to lie to himself and justify beaten up what was essentially his pet or else at least to forget having done so.

He’d didn’t really see himself as a cruel or sadistic fairy, but sometimes dying a few times in quick succession can desensitise you to violence.

It’s because of the damn kiddo..

The only reason he’d been dying so much was because he was getting reckless. Reckless because he was starting to care again after so many years of hermitage.

Being useful and helpful… having a purpose again, it made Gerald feel like he was worth something. Getting all sentimental..

It’s nae like I even wanted tha job in ta first place.. he thought as he tried to retract his own feelings back into the briar-like ball of disinterest that was his psyche.

Probly all gon end up in the dragon shite anyways. It always ends in shite.

Whilst momentarily lost in his own musings, Gerald was nearly so self-absorbed that he had nearly missed the ambush. But only nearly, for he was still a high-levelled fairy after all.

From a spot on the ceiling that seemed to be as inconspicuous as any other, a clump of dirt was loosened before falling away to deposit a writhing mass of larger-than-usual Rottwood worms.

Gerald quickly swerved to the left and easily dodged the trap, of which he didn’t even register it for what it was at first.

What ta flying fuck was ta? He wondered at the unusual behaviour as the writhing mass wetly landed atop the umbrella-like crowning dome of a greenish mushroom tree.

The mass of Rottwood worms then swarmed and wriggled away together in a suspiciously cohesive manner before slinking off the side of the top the shroom tree before sliming and squirming off and under the lip of the large shroom.

Gerald really had to take stock and wonder what the Realms was going on for a moment.

Rottwood worms only lived in the dirt eating leaves and belong at the bottom of the foodchain universally everywhere on land. Heck even a disabled and arthritic Dewphid wouldn’t even bother or be concerned at the sight of a Rottwood worm.

So for the worms to start to show swarming behaviour, deploy ambush tactics and and drop on the heads of charming and handsome fairys such as himself was cause for consternation and no little measure of confusion.

It’s Silky, he quickly concluded. Dungeons were notorious for evolving or mutating creatures into more deadly versions beyond their norm.

Quickly coming to the conclusion that the new and wild behaviour that the worms were exhibiting due to the effect of evolving in the dungeon, Gerald grunted with a dismissive shrug before continuing on his way. But not without a wary eye for any suspiciously wriggly bits of the ceiling.

At least tha’s some of flying issue sorted itself out.

Keeping a wary eye open for anymore dropping organic-spaghetti traps, the rest of Gerald’s flight back through the dungeon was uneventful. He did his usual detour around the clearing as per usual but otherwise there was nothing much to see other than the psychedelic and fluorescent mushroom-trees all over the place.

There were also new patches of fuzzy pink fungal growth on the actual ceiling itself here and there, but in the grand scheme of the developing dungeon it was a minor new feature at best compared to homicidal drop-worms.

What was quite alarming was the small patrol of tiny Toadshroolets that Gerald had spotted whilst flying back. The little squad of eight harmless and adorable looking little mushroom-men were marching in a not-so-adorable military parade with the soft patter of their feet with crude little sticks of unknown origin serving as tiny pointless spears.

Gerald actually had to do a double take and hovered down closer for a good old gawking.

But no so close as to get hit with a flying stick.

But to his continued surprise, the Shroollets homed in on him immediately once he crossed into their invisible range of perception. Not that the tiny humanoid mushroom monsters had noticable eyes or ears that he was aware of.

They then broke ranks from their double file marching and got into a single line facing Gerald before unbelievably saluting.

It could only be deemed as a salute for even as their cubby little arms were unable to reach up to their head-caps, they all had their free left hands across what was their torso before standing up straighter with their spear-sticks held beside them in a unprovoking but still intimidating manner.

“What ta flying horse fuck.. is this?” mumbled Gerald.

Then as if his cursive was to be regarded as some for of military approval, the little mushroom men then all stomped their right feet before getting into the double file and march back into the undergrowth.

It would’ve been quite formidable and impresive in a way, if the monsters were not all barely coming up to the small two foot tall fairy’s shin.

Plus the parting sight of one of the last Shroolets tripping on a rogue protruding root of a mushroom tree and tumbling forwards head over heels onto his back and rolling about haplessly on his round body with his tubby legs flailing, before having to be rescued by his fellow soldiers just broke any illusion of danger or professionalism they posed.

Gerald was starting to really need a drink right about now.