Dungeon Life - Two-Hundred Thirty-Seven
Lechula
The pale dwarf warily peeks out from the cave she and Merrik have been staying in. The surface is… nothing like she had expected. She would take consolation in the fact that Merrik has been blindsided, too, but he hasn’t been having a great time of it either.
The first day, they could hardly see anything for how bright it all was. It only made her and Merrik both concerned when the group of adventurers said it was a dim day, and the trees provided even more shade! It was a relief to be questioned at the back of that other cave, shallow as it was. It was a little bright, but much better than being outside.
After night fell, it was much easier to walk around and explore the dungeon, the Southwood. While it was much colder than she’s ever experienced before, it was actually dark, so her eyes didn’t hurt! She and Merrik encountered a few other people, mostly ratkin and spiderkin, but mostly kept to themselves, eventually finding another cave to sleep in. It was a bit concerning when a large bear came in, but the Stag followed behind it and explained he would be their bed for the night. It was weird to consider sleeping near such an imposing denizen, but as the temperature continued to drop, she and Merrik both were more than happy to cozy up to the bear.
But now it’s late morning, and the big warm fuzzy bed has wandered off to do denizen things. The light is still bright, but somewhat more bearable than yesterday, which Lechula will eagerly accept.
“Do you think we could defeat that bear and get ourselves some bedding that won’t wander off in the morning?” asks her pale elven friend as he joins her, squinting out into the daylight.
“Maybe? But that might be a bit rude, and maybe not as warm. We could make a fire, but…” she trails off.
“An open fire like that would be a bit bright to comfortably sleep near,” he finishes for her. He doesn’t look happy about it, but Lechula has been around him enough to know he’s not being grumpy, but rather he’s thinking about how to fix the problem. He doesn’t look like he’s coming up with much, so Lechula makes her own suggestion.
“We could find the dwellers and ask how they handle all this? It sounded like they’re mostly underground, too, so maybe they have advice they’d be willing to share?”
Merrik sighs and nods, lifting a hand to shield his eyes as he leaves the cave. “And we can attempt to get some kind of hat to help protect us from this light. After the Redcap, I thought I’d never want to wear anything on my head. I’m not quite ready to wear one of his, but I would be very happy to try to work for something much less… drippy.”
Lechula shudders and nods as she follows her friend. “Maybe we can help prepare some meals? I think we’re a bit late for breakfast, but probably should be right on time to help make brunch for the late risers and the late shift before they go to sleep.”
The pale elf nods and the two make their way for the dweller camp. Lechula can’t help but let her eyes wander around the forest surroundings, though she resists looking up for too long. The night sky felt so full, like a cavern ceiling high above, filled with sparkling gems. The daytime sky, though, just feels… empty, almost hungry. It’s also still a bit painful to look at, even when not looking at the sun. Just another reason to not stare at the uncomfortable expanse stretching away above them. She shakes her head to try to not think about it too hard, but her traitorous eyes keep wandering towards the skyline. At least that makes it easy to spot the smoke from the dwellers’ fires.
The camp takes up the entirety of a large clearing, and the two just stand at the edge for a few moments, considering what they should actually do, where they should go. After a few moments, they both close their eyes and inhale. When looking for food, look for the kitchen. When looking for the kitchen, follow the scent of food.
Lechula lifts her hand and points, before opening her eyes. Merrik doesn’t look like he’s got anything, so she nudges him with her elbow to get him to look. “I think I smell something that way. Some kind of bread, maybe?” Merrik frowns but doesn’t argue as she leads the way.
The two get a few looks from the dwellers as they walk through the camp, but nobody bothers stopping them. The scent of fruits tickles Lechula’s nose, and she has to fight increasing her pace. Whatever it is, it smells good already. Soon they exit from the small alleyways between tents and onto more of a road, though it’s hardly paved. The tracks from wagon wheels split the mass of tents roughly in half, and to the east, the two can see their destination. One of the wagons looks to be a mobile kitchen, and is handing out food in the form of some kind of pancake.
They approach and see a male spiderkin inside, one of the smaller jumping varieties, if Lechula understands correctly. His face looks a bit more insectile than the women spiderkin, and the smaller stature is also usually a good indicator, but she wouldn’t want to give insult by getting something so simple wrong. While trying to figure out how to introduce herself and Merrik, the spiderkin spots them and waves, his pedipalps twitching.
Stolen story; please report.
“Ah, you two are the ones from that other dungeon yeah?” His voice at least confirms he’s a he, though the content of his greeting has Lechula looking around nervously. Back in Silvervein, something like that would get the guards’ attention very quickly. Instead of glares and drawn weapons, the dwellers glance at them with curiosity, before returning to whatever they were doing.
“Yes, that’s us,” replies Merrik. “Is there anything we can do to earn a few of your pancakes? We haven’t eaten yet.”
The spiderkin’s pedipalps twitch as he thinks. “Hmm… well…”
A mammalian hand reaches from elsewhere inside the wagon and pushes him across the counter, letting a wide ratkin take his place at the counter. “No charge for the pancakes. We don’t even have a till. We might get one once we get back, though. I bet we could make a killing selling these at the arena.”
The spiderkin bristles and ineffectually slaps at the hand keeping him at bay. “Bron! That’s no way to run a business!”
Bron just rolls his eyes. “Donny, we’re not running a business. We’re helping feed our people so they have the strength to drive back the evil dungeon,” he says plainly, before realizing the two people waiting for food are from the evil dungeon. “Er… no offence?”
Lechula blushes. “None… well, maybe a little taken. It really is evil, but it’s still weird to wrap my head around,” she admits.
“How’re you only just figuring that out? Woah!” Donny scrambles to keep his footing, but his rather rude question has Bron push him fully off the counter and onto the floor inside the wagon. Despite the apologetic look from the fat ratkin, Lechula tries to answer.
“Well… I never knew anything else. The outside was supposed to be full of danger, and the public sacrifices always reinforced that. Monsters, enemies, sometimes traitors. They always said it was justice. But…”
As she explains, Donny climbs back onto the counter, and looks guilty as her answer continues. “Sorry. Forget I asked. Uh… oh! You’re hungry, right?” He tries to change the subject, and Lechula is all too happy to let him. She silently nods, and he puts on an exaggerated smile… at least she thinks it’s a smile. She’s not quite used to spiderkin facial features.
“Then you’ve come to the right place! Do you like your pancakes sweet or savory?”
“What’s the difference?” asks Merrik, curious about potentially new cuisine.
Bron turns back inside the wagon as Donny explains. “Sweet ones get berries, while savory gets cave lobster bits. We’re still hammering out the best combination of taste and portability, but just adding them into the batter and then cooking works well enough.”
“Can we have one of each?” asks the pale elf, and the spiderkin nods.
“Yeah, that’ll be fine. Hey Bron, two sweet, two savory!”
“I’m right behind you, I can hear you just fine,” complains the cook from out of sight. Despite the tone signifying a longstanding argument, the two can hear the sound of batter on a hot pan, and the scent of food cooking.
“What kind of flour are you using?” asks Lechula, the scent not matching quite right with the flour she’s used to. Maybe it’s a new grain?
“It’s a mix of sporeflour and wheat. The Weaver says military food should pack a lot of energy and protein, so we use a mix. The texture and taste is a little different, but they’re filling and definitely not bad. Kinda weird, if you’re used to normal flour, but you’ll get over it,” explains Donny as he relaxes on the counter. His eyes focus behind Lechula and he hops off the counter, causing her to look around, curious what could cause that.
“Hey Bron, are these all the empty sacks? Filcy’s on her way.” comes the muffled voice of the spiderkin. Lechula ignores the sounds of rummaging from inside the wagon as she tries to figure out who Filcy is. It doesn’t take her long to notice the large tarantulakin woman making a beeline towards the food wagon. She diverts her attention to the two pale outsiders as she approaches, eyeing the two before speaking.
“You’re the two refugees, then?”
Lechula is feeling a bit intimidated by the large woman, but Merrik seems to be taking her presence in stride. “We are. I’m Merrik, and she’s Lechula.”
“Filcy. Have you two eaten, or are you here for seconds?”
Merrik shakes his head. “We got a late start, so this will be our breakfast.”
The gruff woman nods at that, her eyes flicking to the wagon as Donny hops back onto the counter, a bulging bag in his hands. “Hey Filcy! Got the empties here for you!” He looks to Merrik and Lechula as he holds out the bag for the tarantulakim woman. “It’ll be just a couple more minutes. I’ll get you two something you can use for a plate or something, too.”
Filcy silently accepts the bag, then turns her attention to the two outsiders as well. “Pale elf and pale dwarf, right?”
Lechula slowly nods. “Yeeess?”
Filcy nods at that. “After you eat, head to the other end of the camp, to the infirmary. And try to stay in the shade. You probably don’t know what sunburn is, but you two are already looking like cooked sea lobsters. They’ll help you with that.”
Lechula and Merrik both look confused, but Donny’s eyes go wide with concern at her statement. “Move around to the back, in the shade! I’ll bring your food out in just a sec!”
Merrik looks like he wants details, but Lechula is willing to take things at face value. Donny doesn’t seem like the most sensitive of people, so if even he is looking worried, she thinks they should move first and ask questions later. It’s only later that she and Merrik both learn that was probably the correct choice.
