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Den of the Creature

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Den of the Creature

What if Quirrel joined Ghost in deepnest?



That is what the little vessel felt as he sailed through the air, the cave floor crumbling below his feet. His channeled nail, and the mantis claw had freed itself from his hand. But as he fell, he heard water flowing below him, strange. He kept falling, it must have been 100 feet, or so he thought. There was a light at the end of this never-ending pit, and the little ghost fell through the opening.

What luck!

     The ghost safely landed in the water, which he found to be a hot-spring of pure soul. And in front of him sat a was Quirrel.

     Quirrel was nothing but surprised by the visit. “Hello there my friend…I see you to have to braved these dark caverns…I do wonder what brings a little one like you down here?”

     “S-Searching…for…Dreamer…” The ghost had recently grown a voice to speak…and was learning simple words. It was in fact Hornet who taught him to speak.

     “Herrah the Beast? Way out in the west of deepnest?” Quirrel tilted his head.

Ghost nodded, pointing to the spot on his tattered map.

     “That is indeed a long way…you may need someone to help you along the way.” He stood up.

     “You?” The little ghost spoke.

     “I shall join you to brave the deepnest!” Quirrel called out, striking a heroic pose. “You will be safe with-“

Quirrel had just noticed that Ghost had disappeared. “Ghost?”

He picked up his sword, heading west, surely he had gone that way. Once the light of the hotspring has left his vision, the darkness seemed to consume him a bit, and the noise of screeching spiders filled his ears.

     He opened the little bag he carried with him, and lit a torch he fashioned from Fool Eater leaves, which are highly flammable. The cavern floor was wet and sticky with what Quirrel could only think to be blood. He ventured through nearly a quarter mile of dark caves, and soon, he found that the cave’s ceiling had opened up a bit.

     “That…that is very high…” He gulped, looking up at the cave ceiling.

     The bug looked down, a pit full of writhing centipedes at his feet. He took a breath, carefully leaping over them, not sure where he was going…until he came across a hole in the wall. It was small, and looked fresh, like someone burst through it recently. “Did he go through here?” He climbed up into the hole, accidently dropping his torch into the centipedes.

     “AH..damn..” Luckily for him, the luminescent mushrooms grew on the walls, lighting his path just enough.

     He pressed through a much narrower tunnel, the floor a lot more wet with blood. And…and in the corner of his eye he spotted his friend. “G-Ghost? Is that you?”

The little vessel didn’t say a word, and ran off into the darkness.

     “Ghost! Wait up!” Quirrel ran after him, scared for his friend. As he ran, he tripped over a stone and tumbled down the cave, landing on some dead creature’s shell.

     “AH-…dammit…” He picked himself up, the Ghost standing some feet away. “Ghost…wait!” The Ghost looked back at Quirrel, and ran away through the narrow passage. Quirrel ran after him, to find his friend standing in…what looked to be a spider’s nest.
Oh no.

     “Ghost?” Quirrel shuddered.

     The creature spoke in a voice identical to the Ghost’s. “Hello Quirrel.”

Something was up, Quirrel had never heard Ghost speak that clearly.

     “What th-“ He reached for his sword, the Madam in case he needed it.

     The voice grew more distorted. “I’ve never had pillbug before…” This caricature of the Ghost grabbed his head, twisting it around.

     Quirrel cried out in fear, raising his pale blade to the creature. “What are you? What have you done with my friend?”

     The creature didn’t respond, just pulled itself apart more, until it had transformed into a giant, unforgiving, terrible…gruesome…deadly…


     “God of gods…” Quirrel wasn’t sure whether or not to surrender.

     The little ghost’s head had turned into the spider’s jaws, its eyes turning a bright orange, glaring at the little bug. It shrieked, ready to kill.

     Quirrel sprinted at the creature, screaming in terror, his sword in the air. He slid underneath the creature, puncturing its abdomen with his sharp blade. The creature was hurt, but not enough to kill it. The creature turned around, and spat a blob of webbing at Quirrel. The webs landed precisely on the hand he carried his sword in, binding him to the wall.

     After struggling for just a few seconds, he pulled a secondary knife from his coat pocket and slashed at the spider’s webs. He broke free, and ran at it again, this time aiming for its legs. Quirrel was just barely fast enough to jump around the creature’s legs.

     In just the right amount of time, the beast kicked Quirrel over, and its jaws dove down, ready to eat. Quirrel cast his sword aside, holding the creatures jaws away from his face, the sharp edges grinding up his palms. The breath of the creature reeked of 1000 dead men. The creature roared, the smell of death just amplifying.

     Quirrel risked it all, reaching for his small dagger, and drove it into the creature’s face, orange, infected blood pouring from the wound. The creature jumped back and screamed in pain, and suddenly, a white figure fell from the cave ceiling.

It was the Ghost, and he managed to land on the neck of the creature, riding it like it was a stag. Ghost grabbed his own dagger as the spider thrashed below him.

     It was in a fell swoop that he drove the blade into the Spider’s neck, and it stopped breathing.

It stopped doing anything. It fell to the floor, dead and already rotting.

     After realizing what just happened, Quirrel ran to his friend, pulling him into a tight hug. “Little Ghost! I’m so glad you’re alive, I thought I’d lost you!”

     Ghost struggled in the hug. “Ah- Tight…” He tried to free himself.

     Quirrel took a moment, and set him down. “Ah, sorry.”

     “I…am…am alive.” He shuddered, his cloak covered in damp webs.

     “And I am glad, my friend...shall we find a way out of this pit?"
The Ghost nodded, wiping the blood off his sword.