Dwarven Outpost.

  Forgrim and his damned lot stared at the place where The Haunter once sat just moments ago. They blinked in disbelief as their grips tightened around their tools/weapons, ready for some trick. Some misdirection. Something to show that they hadn't actually banished their fear and terror so easily.

  Yet as the cold minutes of silence ticked by, they couldn't help but eventually accept reality. They had won. For now at least, Forgrim thought as they all breathed a sigh of relief even as a few of them broke out in joyous cheers and half maddened laughter as the source of their suffering was banished.

  Even if temporarily, Forgrim thought as the rest of them broke out some of their rations given to them at the start of their exile as well as cracking open their dwarven flasks and taking some welcoming sips of the dark dwarven stout within.

  They'd regret it later when there was less in there than they wanted. But Forgrim couldn't help but allow them this moment of luxury after such a harrowing experience. Not like the liquor of this world would do much good besides sake their thirst and warm their bellies for a brief time. If a dwarf wanted to get sloshed it had to be by dwarven spirits. Or maybe ogre or orcish drink. But either of those was little better than piss gutter water at the best of times. No dwarf, even the most desperate of them, would ever consider drinking such vile sludge.

  But Forgrim couldn't help a smile crossing his face as the rest of them cheered and celebrated about the only good thing to happen to them in many a weeks. They didn't even have the annoying tone and remarks from Odeas to dampen the mood.

  As the thought struck him though, they heard a commotion near the river and found Odeas scrambling as he tried to climb up their side of the river after a rather impressive jump from the snowed tracks. What was that human saying about devils or something, Forgrim thought as the mood immediately soured upon the gnome's return. Said gnome struggled and grunted with exertion as he finally created the side and looked around at the Outpost.

  "Wha-" He didn't get so much as a word out before the cursed crown upon his head squeezed and silenced him with a fresh trickle of warm blood flowing down his brow.

  The gnome seemed to glare at the amused looks and smirks of the dwarves and gestured around as if looking for something. When he didn't find what, or who, he was looking for he gestured to the dwarves erratically.

  "Tha creature is gone." Forgrim declared at last as he grew tired of the gnome's gestures and arm waving.

  Some of the others let out disappointed sighs and groans as the gnome ceased his gesturing and just stared, horrified, at Forgrim. He made to speak before he was silenced with a hiss as the thorns clamped more upon his brow.

  "If you want that removed, you'll have ta go search fer it." Forgrim said and gestured down the road that still held the slowly disappearing tracks of The Haunter when he first arrived.

  Odeas, however, wasn't quite so keen as to go marching off into the savage wilds. Especially after a savage creature that would be just as likely to make parchment of his flesh! He gulped and stared down the road and shuffled his feet in the cold mud.

  Forgrim couldn't help a smirk as the gnome slowly took a couple of steps back towards his hole in the ground as he saw the all too familiar fear and terror behind his bulbous spectacled eyes. He should feel sympathy towards the gnome. He should feel pity. He would, Forgrim thought as he turned towards the others as the mood rose once more. But he'll let the gnome stew for a time before he offered words of comfort. What little they'd do that is.

  For now, they celebrated. The Haunter had been banished for a time, their gnome was now far quieter, and their bellies were warm with dwarven pint and a hot fire. While things could be better, like a roof over their head or a proper meal and a full keg of dwarven stout, it could also be far worse.

  He'll take what he could get at the moment, Forgrim thought as he said aloud a prayer to the Stone Father and his forefathers in thanks. Even as a small part of him seemed to balk at such a thing. After all, where were his God and his forefathers when he truly needed them? Where were they when fear and terror gripped their hearts? Where were they when the very stone itself scorned them?

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Forgrim shook his head at such thoughts. Now was a time to be joyous and celebrate. Not to be doubting his God and forefathers. So he drank and celebrated. Even as he supped a bit more of his flask of ale than he intended. Even as he saw the look of doubt, of bitterness, in the others faces at their own mixed cheers at the prayer.

  Even as a small part of him seemed to whisper to him. Whisper of something else. Something darker. Something more present than some faraway absent god and long dead ancestors.

  -----

  Trout's Landing.

  The Trap Master grimaced as yet another of their tools shattered against stone and as one of the tribe was quick enough to not lose their head in the process as the shovel head ricocheted off the stone.

  Since Jeb left, more and more tools have been shattering as what little the kobolds could do has finally seen their limits. He hoped Jeb would return so that he needn't worry about them anymore. He turned his head as he heard the eldritch howling of the eldritch wormhound and felt as it bounded down the tunnel. He also heard Jeb's voice as he greeted the creature.

  That was fast, The Trap Master thought as he saw the baleful gaze of Jeb beginning to illuminated the tunnel as he made his way down it and towards them. The Trap Master nodded in greeting.

  "How did it go with the dwarves?"

  "They said they'd get back to me." Jeb remarked with a easy smirk as he brushed past the Trap Master and the others and gazed at the dirt and stone end of the tunnel.

  "So no tools I take it then?" He remarked as Jeb seemed... off. Even for him.

  Jeb waved aside his concern and ran a finger over a nearby root of the sycamore above their heads.

  "Nope. But we don't gotta worry about that right this second."

  "Of course we do. Without those tools we can't dig. If we can't dig we can't expand." The Trap Master stated.

  "Well how's 'bout a lil... help." Jeb said cryptically.

  The Trap Master rolled his eyes at his tone. He was going to introduce some strange human tools wasn't he, the kobold thought even as Jeb ushered the others back a few feet before placing his hand upon the sycamore root and slamming the other hand deep into the stone and dirt.

  Just as the Trap Master made to ask what he was doing, he watched as the very stone and dirt moved! As if willed away! The stone crumbled and disintegrated and the dirt seemed to crumble to nothingness. What remained of both turned dusky and fragile, and dark and rich, respectively. He also watched as the root took a darker hue to its soft brown root as it seemed to snake further into the soil as it held up the rest of the dirt and stone from collapsing on the newly forming space. The way the root moved reminded him of the great snakes of their former tropical home.

  The Trap Master and the others watched as claws and claws of dirt and stone seemed to disintegrated at Jeb's command. They watched as the tunnel continued on for several more feet before stopping and blooming outwards, forming a small space almost as big as the gathering area just a ways back behind them.

  They watched as the now-dark sycamore roots grew and expanded into the ceiling and walls of the chamber like veins in a body. Watched as progress slowed to a crawl, and as Jeb fell to the side and against the dark dirt wall in exhaustion.

  "Wow! That was an experience!"

  "Jeb, what did you do?" The Trap Master asked as he and the others cautiously walked into the dark earthy chamber.

  "Just gave y'all a lil hand is all. Can't exactly just grab a shovel and dig with ya now can I?" Jeb replied in a tired and sleepy voice as the tunnel darkened and brightened as his eyes closed and opened.

  "But this?" The Trap Master asked and gestured around.

  He turned and found Jeb slowly making his way back down the tunnel, his tired voice echoing down the tunnel.

  "May as well do somethin' good with these powers."

  The Trap Master made to speak once more but found Jeb was no longer in the tunnel with them. He instead turned and gazed around at the sizable chamber. They still had much more to do if they wanted their tribe to want for nothing, but this was a good start nonetheless.

  Jeb on the other hand was exhausted. He wasn't even sure if he was sleepwalking or not. He may as well have with how sluggish and tired he felt. He even found himself stopping and blinking in thought as he tried to recall what exactly it was he just did and whether or not it was just in his mind.

  As he entered the gathering area, he ran into the Chief.

  "Oh, Master Jeb! Are you alright?"

  "I'm good, just... tired." Jeb replied before sluggishly gesturing down the tunnel he had just came from.

  "Got a chamber for you lot all finished up. Do with it what y'all will. If you need anythin' else, just holler. Tomorrow." He replied and made his way past the confused yet astounded Chief and the others of the tribe that were in earshot to hear what Jeb had just said, and apparently done.

  Already several made their way down the tunnel to see what he had done and marveled yet again at just what Jeb alone accomplished. Already members of the tribe were discussing what the new chamber would be used for. Some wanted it as storage for what the tribe collected while others wanted to begin growing their plants before what clippings and starts they had died.

  Others suggested at least starting up a fungal farm if for nothing else than ready access to food until the winter above makes foraging more worthwhile. Some made to hurry after Master Jeb and ask what he wanted done, but the Chief rose a claw and declared that this would be the start to a fungal farm after seeing a trickle of water coming from a gap near one of the roots in the wall. The darkness and moisture will make growing mushrooms, edible or otherwise, easier.

  The Chief beamed as the kobolds got to work crafting planters, compost heaps, and creating a shallow indent in the dirt for the water to pool. The kobolds were glad to have progress. Gladder still that Jeb had been the one to assist them. He and the Trap Master stood beside one another and watched as the beginnings of the fungal farm took shape.

  Jeb trudged as he made his way back down the tunnel towards the room of him and Ruby. He didn't do much today, yet he felt like he had worked a full twelve hour shift at the train yard. His legs were jelly, his eyes heavy, and Dougie was already half helping him back towards his bed.

  He gave Ruby a mumbled 'love you' and a pat of the onyx eggs before sliding back onto their moss bed. He felt Ruby's scaled body press against his chest and felt her forked tongue flick against his cheek before she nuzzled against him even as Dougie scratched his back against his boots before trotting over to the entrance of the tunnel and laying down to keep watch over his kin.

  half-eldritch being.