Enter the Shadow(Ruckus' account of the Millers Daughter part 1)

**Enter the Shadow**

**The cave:**

Ruckus sits against the wall of the cave trying not to lose consciousness with varying degrees of success. He’s here one moment but gone the next. When he’s gone though, he’s  not gone to some black void nothingness. That would be almost a relief or at last least a minor respite from the torment he is currently experiencing.

He keeps seeing the days events unfold before him in agonizing detail. Mostly, because much of his day was spent experiencing pain in some form or another. He groans and looks at his many bruises, cuts, slashes and stab wounds. Those goblins had really done a number on him, and he would surely be dead if it wasn’t for his companions. As usual. One teammate in particular actua-

His thought is interrupted by a flash of the cave filled with the chaos of combat. He doesn’t see it as a totally immersed memory as has been seeing the rest of the day play out. He is watching the battle play out before him from his current viewpoint. That being leaning against the slime covered stone wall of the cave with his head nodded over to one side, since he lacks the strength to keep it upright on his own volition. He’s watching the blurring movements of the shadow monk from an angle he knows he didn’t see it from before. He had been upright for the entire battle, but only by the grace of the green goddess and…. The Shadow Monk. At first one part of his mind complains that it doesn’t make sense for him to be watching the fight from this angle, but then again it's a hallucination, so it doesn’t really have to follow the rules of making any damn sense. The other part of his mind shouts this at the one that is complaining, and demands that first part shut hell up so it can enjoy the show.

That show is actually pretty impressive. He watches the monks fist turn into astral fire or electricity or something. It’s one of indefinable kinds of energy. He’s sure a wizard, artificer, or someone else way smarter would probably know exactly what it was, but to Ruckus it’s just astral fire. Whatever it was. It turns a goblins head into nothing but a spray of mist. It doesn’t even splatter. He knows this because that mist goes or went right into Ruckus’ face. He was standing in front of that goblin, about to take a shit covered dagger to his one remaining eye, when the monk had saved his life again for the… To be honest, he had lost count how many times that day he saved not just his, but their collective asses. Oh wait, there he is.

“See?” He says this out loud, and tries to point at himself. He is trying to explain to the two parts of his mind that are watching the show with him that he was in this show too! See he’s right there. Doing uhm.. Well, he was doing stuff before that. Can we go back he thinks? He was doing much better before this, but he doesn’t get any reply besides that of his companions turning their heads in confusion at the incoherent statement, and clumsy gesture. They momentarily looked his way, looked the way he kind of pointed, saw that he was clearly delirious and pointing at nothing, and went back about their business.

The images that overlaid in his vision fade away. It was quite confusing to see ghost images of opponents  actively fighting, and at the same time as seeing the actual bodies of all those same opponents laying in various states of butchery around the room. Cave. It was a cave. Not a room. Speaking of which….

He hopes it's just cave slime that he’s leaning in, but he knows it's probably not. After he saw what was smeared all over the daggers those goblins were using.... Yeah, it's definitely not just cave slime. He tries to get up, but this causes a wave of nausea and dizziness, and he falls back against the wall. His head slams painfully back against the wall as he does this, and he proceeds to slide back down to the floor. He’s starting to fade again as soon as his head hits the wall, and the rest of the fall comes through his perception in a few chops before he ends with him back where he started, before the failed attempt at getting up. Stupid to try to do that in his state anyway, but then again in the scheme of stupid things he had done recently that wasn’t ranking to high on the list, so he let it go without giving himself too much grief over it. The slime at least limited the discomfort of the stone scratching his back too bad so that’s something right?... The memories are starting to come through now, and blending with what he’s currently seeing and thinking. The intensity and confusion of it is making him dizzy again, his head is spinning, the cave itself seems to take a deep breath with him, and with this the darkness takes him again into it’s unkind embrace.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The dream:**

It started out as a pretty standard request to rescue a citizen's daughter from goblins or something. He hadn’t paid enough attention to what exactly he was getting into. He noticed that there were a few much more experienced adventurers signed on to help with the request, so he figured he would just tag along as some backup and leave those details to the veterans. He’s learned so many lessons, and he’s sure to learn more. This was yet another one. Pay attention dammit! At the rate with which the lessons are being beaten into his skull; in some cases literally, he knows now that the learning curve for surviving out here is a very steep one indeed.

Saying it was steep was maybe a little of understatement actually. That was kind of like calling the barehanded scaling of a sheer rock wall with metalbriar wound among its hand holds a casual climb up a grassy hill. On his first outing into the swamplands, he had nearly gotten himself and his team eaten by a gargoyle… If that’s what its intention was. He wasn’t sure if the anatomy of an enchanted stone guardian required it to eat per say. Focusing on the detail of what the horrifying beast intended to do with your shredded remains once it had committed that shredding, was probably not the most productive thing. That should be something an artificer or wizard should be thinking about. Ruckus should be thinking how to spot the things in the future, and what their potential weaknesses are. If blasted things even had any. At first it had seemed to shrug off even the magical attacks that had been launched at it, but then someone had the quick thinking to hit it with a vial of acid. That stroke of genius probably saved all their lives. One of the other party members had so brilliantly made that acid just hours earlier. Harvesting it from the remains of the leeches that had attacked them right outside of town. Ruckus had helped with harvesting, but had no idea what to do with the stuff. He should have though. He needs to learn more about the creatures of this swamp. He should be studying these creatures to learn about them, so he can be better prepared, and help others be better prepared.

His teammates were consistently pulling their weight and saving everyone else's lives in the process. They were paying attention to all the details. They were focused on the tasks at hand. He was not, and he had almost gotten him killed. Again. He had been distracted and acting like a total idiot. Acting like an idiot was putting it kindly. Very kindly. He had been distracted by childish inappropriate thoughts, when he should have been watching for danger.

Getting attacked by yet another variety of dangerous swamp creature again, should not at all have been a surprise to him. The way things were going for most that were venturing into the swamp, this was should be pretty much expected every time. The only question really was what kind of thing with sharp teeth, or stingers, or claws, or suction cups, or any combination of those and other lethal appendages it was going to be. With it being essentially a certainty that you would be encountering something deadly right after exiting the village, he should probably take his head out of his elven ass and start paying better attention.

After leaving the safety of hope to search for the daughter of the Miller, they had been set upon by some flying insects. He wasn’t sure if you should keep calling them insects once they got that big, but technically that’s what they were. Luckily, they had spotted the things beforehand, and engaged them intentionally. The real problem was that it wasn’t Ruckus who spotted the insects. It had been another member of the party. He was the Ranger. That was his job.

Case in point, spotting the danger beforehand was not to be the trend for the rest of the day though. He almost wished these things had been able to ambush them, so he had been more on his toes that evening. They had made quick work of the insects as well, and that had further instilled a sense of confidence that was a very dangerous thing to have out here. He had learned that and then relearned it again today.

A Miller! That’s what he was. Ruckus had been paying attention.. Well, he had at least overheard that detail. Paying attention to all the details was something he needed to work on. He had been lucky too many times. You couldn’t rely on luck in the long term though. Eventually it ran out, and you wound up in the stomach of a giant Crocodile.

He winced in shame at the memory of the massive beast, and that brought him back into the present for a moment. He’s still leaning against the wall of the cave. The way the Goblins had attacked and nearly killed him, was like the universe setting off the repeated chiming of a clockwork alarm. Dagger after dagger had been thrown his way. After managing to dodge or one or two they started slashing and piercing his flesh, and had eventually nearly brought him to his knees. He barely had the strength to make one last attack with his enchanted elven axe, felling one more of the disgusting creatures. After that, he would have been at their mercy though. He sees their faces hovering over him now. Distorting in his dream state, their teeth become nightmarishly long, their claws reach out for him, they are all standing around him, looking down upon him with their dripping fangs and claws, and as he lies on the floor of the cave he knows he as utterly failed as a ranger. He is so weak he can’t even vocalize a plea for his life. Not that they would hear such a plea of course, and he closes his eyes as they prepare to finish him off and feast on his remains.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The cave:**

He snaps back to consciousness in the goblins cave. It had not happened like that thank the green goddess. The last part at least. He remembered taking down the goblin with the last of his strength, and there were still a good number of them standing to finish him and the rest of the team off. There were already others on the ground, and he felt that was about to join them. It wasn’t looking good, and then the shadow monk had moved again. He had been on the ground a moment ago, but he was so fast.

There were only a few of them left in the cave now. Some of the party had to leave to go back to town, including the monk, and they hadn’t yet found the girl. He couldn’t blame them for leaving, especially the shadow monk vincent. He was in need of rest and healing, and had saved all of their lives multiple times already. They had just been set upon by… Well, he had lost count and it was hard to tell how many of the goblins there were at this point anyway, since they were strewn about the room in various piles and such.

Some of them in pieces, and not all of those pieces were made with weapons that usually sliced pieces off of things. His head nods over to the side as another wave of nausea and pain washes over him. Losing the ability to keep his head upright actually puts his vision right on the dismembered head of a goblin that he knows didn’t have that head cut off. It had been punched off.

He was already fading back out. Seeing the head laying there with the big dent in it, and roughly torn off strands of flesh threading away from where it had been literally ripped from the body it was attached to, brought him right back to the first moment he had even noticed Vincent.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The dream:**

They spotted the insects early, so nobody has been attacked yet. One of the mages put out an illusion to distract them, and that did give the team the upper hand, so he’s fired off a few shots from his bow, but these insects are fast! They don’t seem that strong, but they are proving to be very difficult to hit, and not just for him. The rest of the team seems to be having trouble with the things as well. He’s notched another arrow to a shot at one of a pair that are moving in fast on a teammate, when he’s momentarily distracted by movement in his peripheral vision.

Moving so fast it's almost a motion blur, this monk dashes past him, does a cartwheeling flip on to a rock outcropping to give himself the high ground, and then takes down both of the things with a pair throwing stars. He’s pretty sure tossed the stars mid-flip as well. Holy shit! He tries to take down another one with bow, and misses yet again. The rest of that fight was a confusing blur, he remembers finally being able to take one of the things down with his axe, but other than that is all confusion, the things getting their stingers stuck into peoples armor, into the actual people in some cases, and the shadow monk. Methodically moving from target to target without hesitation, and delivering death expertly with the most in an unbelievably restrained and efficient manner. Every move seemed calculated and intentional. He never over committed his weight on an attack or set himself off balance in his movements. He hit something just hard enough to take it down and moved on. One after another. On and on. Wait… It isn’t feeling right again.

He’s watching the monks fists turn to astral energy as he smashes wave after wave of the insects. Hundreds of them are flowing out of the trees in a flood to overwhelm him and the rest of the team, but they are all utterly destroyed by the astral flames the monks hands don’t shoot or project, but become entirely. The astral fire washes over the insect legion consuming them all, and then proceeds to turn its hunger on Ruckus. He screams as the flames crawl up his legs like a million of the stinging insects. Their essence captured by the fire, and their wrath now delivered upon a million fold with the heat of the flames to intensify the agony!

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The cave:**

He comes awake with a start and slams his head against the wall of the cave; wincing as he does so. The few others who are left are looking at him. He must have screamed out loud at the end of that last hallucination. Again, it had mostly happened exactly like that. All except the end, with the legions of insects and astral energy from the monks hands devouring everything, including him. Although, searching his memory now he does think he saw some sort of energy coming off the monk during the fight in the cave, and when he had hit the giant crocodile.

Thinking of that monstrosity and the utter fear it had instilled in the entire team as it rampaged into their camp, causes him to lurch forward off the wall as he proceeds to go into dry heaves. He has already purged the contents of his stomach, so he just painfully convulses on the shit stinking floor of the cave a few times and then lays there. He’s sure he has sewer plague from all the injuries he sustained from the shit covered daggers that goblins were throwing at them all. Mostly him it seemed, but he kind of feels like he had it coming in a way, so he can’t really hold it against them. Who covers their daggers in shit though?! That’s just messed up… Oh yeah. Goblins.

He remembers vaguely now mentioning the concern of sewer plague to the team, and they had laughed at him. They kept saying he needn’t worry because dwarves were resistant to most diseases, sewer plague included. This frustrated him to not end. Not just for the usual reasons either. If he was in fact infected, it may prove difficult getting treatment if everyone insisted he was a dwarf. Now along with his dwarfing curse, would he also have to deal with a permanent case of sewer plague. The thought depressed him and drained the strength that was keeping him conscious again. In his rapidly devolving state of delirium he manages to utter only a few meaningless words into the filth of the cave floor.

“I’mmmm auuu frucking el…” The slurred sentence remains unfinished, as the hallucinatory fuge takes him into its torturous embrace once again.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The dream:**

He stands in stunned awe. Vincent stands atop the head of a massive crocodile, and massive is not doing it justice. It’s the biggest damn crocodile Ruckus has ever seen. The monk has just done another perfectly executed flip to put himself on top of the beast, and he has stabbed into its eye with his spear. The beast is now frantically trying to shake him off, but he is using the spear to remain in place, and looks like he’s getting ready to hit the thing with his bare fist. You have to be kidding me Ruckus thinks.

He had yet again failed in his duties. Rather than being extra watchful through the night, he had decided to get extra rest to build some additional strength for the next day. He had not even bothered to take his armor off when he laid down in his tent, and promptly fallen asleep.

He was awoken by the yells of Vincent. He had not yet been able to tell what he was yelling, but it was obviously meant to be one of alarm. Upon exiting the tent, he immediately could see they were all doomed. They had no chance. The beast that had followed the monk back into camp was massive. It’s hide had to be so thick, he doubted any of his or anyone else weapons could pierce it. His initial thought was that their only chance would be to flee, but that would be foolish as the beast could surely outrun them. Even if a few of them made it to safety, some if not most would certainly not. There also wasn’t anywhere to go. Running into the darkness of the swamp in the middle of the night without any of your gear was even more suicidal than attempting to win a fight with the thing that had to have probably a million teeth in its mouth given the size of the maw.

After Ruckus had grabbed his bow, he ran across the camp putting the fire between him and the beast. He took up position and started firing arrows, although he wasn’t sure what they would do against the enormous thing. It had now taken one of the party into its mouth and was essentially eating them alive, and would have if the lizardfolk healer hadn’t begun curing his wounds while he was still inside the mouth. That was one of the ballsiest moves he had ever seen a healer make, and he had made a note of it. If you're going out on a dangerous mission, you want the healer that is willing to stick their hands into the mouth of a giant crocodile to heal you. Yeah, I pick that guy or girl for my team. He wasn’t exactly sure which the lizardfolk was, and it didn’t matter. They had been officially awarded the most badass healer on the planet award in Ruckus’ mind.

As he is watching this happen, he realizes that the monk is nowhere to be seen! Had he really just led the thing back into the camp to devour them all, and then fled into the swamp? That little shit! Just when Ruckus was starting to not only like the guy, but respect him, and maybe even admire his skill, he goes and does some cowardly crap like that.

That blur in his peripheral vision again, and he knows right away he was being an ass for even suspecting that the monk would abandon him. In the true fashion of a skilled warrior, he led the beast into the center of the camp; it was currently trampling Ruckus’s tent, and then slipped into the shadows so he could launch a calculated attack on the beast.

Everyone else is attacking from a distance. Ruckus with arrows, spells from the mages, and what looks like he swears to the green goddess is Ale shooting from the fingers of the one next to him. Does that count as a spell? More importantly, is it drinkable? They had rolled their eyes when he had inquired, but it was a serious question! They had mentioned something about poison, but Ruckus had a strong stomach and poison had never seemed to have much effect on him. That was odd for an elf, and he knew it was more of a trait of dwarves. This could of course be a side effect of the dwarfing curse though, as it might not just make him look in appearance like a dwarf but actually become one. He just didn’t really know because other than Lady Elfwyn, nobody else he had met had ever heard of the dwarfing curse or any like it. Everyone said the same thing. Generally, when you curse someone, you turn them into a frog or something equally as unpleasant and easy to squish underfoot. You didn’t spend all that bioessence just to turn elves into dwarves or vice versa. Do that and the cursed individual is still very capable of retaliation, and that was usually something you were wanting to avoid if you were going around cursing people.

The shadow monk does not attack from a distance though. He runs across the field of battle, comes around from behind the enemy, and then jumps onto its back. Ruckus is stunned to the point he doesn’t notch another arrow, and in combat it’s all but reflexive to do so. He’s just standing there with his mouth open. He looks over and the caster has stopped firing the Ale as well. She doesn’t look as dumbfounded and stunned as Ruckus is sure he’s looking at the time, but she appears to be equally as shocked with what he has done.

Until now, their attacks had seemed to do little but annoy the beast. The reason they weren’t probably all already in its stomach was that it was having a hard time eating the one it had in its mouth, since they were being rapidly healed as they were being chewed on. Damn that had to suck so bad. To be the person being chewed, then healed, and then chewed again of course. Much like their attacks, it was probably just annoying to the crocodile. It might actually be enjoying itself, come to think of it. It’s getting a meal and a chew toy. Right as Vincent finishes his flip and comes down on the head of his foe, he brings down his spear, and stabs it with expert accuracy into one of the eyes of the massive creature. It hadn’t been holding still either, so that was more than incredibly impressive for him to pull it off coming out of a flip.

Now the crocodile is moving even more. It thrashes about in a fit. The spear is lodged deep into its eye and it is clearly now being affected, but it is now down, and Ruckus fears that it still may be able to finish the lot of them, if not at least the one that is still in its mouth. The monk is not being thrown off though. He’s gripping the spear, using it to remain in place as the thing thrashes wildly, and has a deadly calm look of focus on his face as he appears to be pulling back his fist. Ruckus swears now that can see some sort of energy coming off the monk's hand, and he appears to be speaking words in a language Ruckus doesn’t recognize, but it sounds dark and almost demonic in nature. He’s no expert, but it definitely wasn’t common, elvish or dwarvish and the gutteral sound of it didn’t remind him of any other language he heard commonly spoken.

Vincent rides the momentum of one of the bucks of the beast that it seems to throw in randomly with the various thrashes, and he uses it to launch himself back up in a very controlled leap while still gripping the spear.

Ruckus watches as he seems to pause and almost hover in the air for a moment above the head of the croc. This massive head filled with row after row of jagged teeth that he without hesitation jumped upon is below him, and it would but need to turn itself upright to swallow him whole on his descent. He shows no fear, and only intense yet calm focus as he reaches the apex of the jump, grips the last bit of the shaft of his spear, and rides the momentum caused by the beast bucking back down with the spear still lodged in its eye. The skill this is executed with makes it very obvious how intentional all of it is.

His fist hits the beast square in the center of its skull with a crack that sounds like a strike of lightning. It doesn’t stagger, it doesn’t waver, and it doesn’t wobble about before it falls over. It instantly drops with a thud that would have been considered loud, but seems to be almost muffled due to following the crack of Vincent's fist shattering the skull of the beast. This guy can’t be humanoid. No way. He’s looking at the shadow monk standing atop the slain beast with its head obviously caved in from the strike.

Vincent looks directly at him. He smiles, but it's not a friendly smile and he sees his fists turn into the astral fire again. This fills his mind with an unreasonable amount of fear, and he finds himself running hysterically into the swamp as the flames chase him, consuming everything in their path on their way viciously char his flesh into ash. He trips in the muck, looks back and sees the flames bearing down upon him. No, no, no, not again he thinks in sheer delirious panic, but the flames are upon him again, and again he screams in the grip of their seering torment.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

The cave:

Ruckus comes to again, and even though his face does appear to be laying some more of his vomit, he’s actually feeling slightly better. Apparently there was something left in there, or maybe one of his companions had kindly given him some water, which he had in turn shown his appreciation for by regurgitating it back up and using it as a pillow. His stomach bile is probably more sterile than the floor of this cave actually, so it doesn’t give him the immediate reaction of revulsion it should. He’s almost grateful for it being there. Only for a moment though, as those thoughts belonged to the just waking up from a fevered dream Ruckus, and now that he was becoming the fully aware Ruckus, he starts to realize that this was all quite disgusting, so he promptly rolls himself onto his back without too much effort. Yeah, feeling a little better. Not quite standing up better though. Just laying here on my back on the cave floor better for now. Though he did have the wherewithal to make sure he rolled the direction so that he wouldn’t still be using the vomit pillow. The vision had of course spun off into a full on nightmarish hallucination that didn’t happen.

After dispatching the unbelievably huge crocodile in one of the impressive feats of combat Ruckus had ever witnessed.... No, scratch that, it was THE most impressive feat he had ever witnessed. Vincent had immediately bowed his head and dropped to his knees to beg forgiveness for leading the monster into camp. Everyone was taken aback by this. The monk had again acted in the best possible way without hesitation. As if he knew the only path to take that would lead to everyone surviving. He had nothing to apologize for. As far as Ruckus was concerned, he could consider the experience all having been a planned performance that Vincent had woken them all up to watch. When it came down to it. Watching him defeat the thing in the manner with which he did was just awesome! Ruckus would be getting drinks from the telling of this tale for years to come. For that alone he considered himself indebted to the warrior, but the bottom line was that he had undoubtedly saved Ruckus’ and everyone else’s lives.

As impressive as he was, Ruckus doubted he could have slain the beast all on his own. He wasn’t entirely sure couldn’t though given what he had seen the shadow monk do so far, but if he had simply let the thing eat him, then he wouldn’t have been able to raise the alarm. The appetite of a thing that size would have certainly eventually led it into camp where it could have set upon them with surprise. They certainly all would have perished if that was the case. Ruckus had no doubt of that.

He lays on his back staring at the roof of the cave. Now he begins to recall the battle that he was currently laying in the aftermath of. Laying in a ragged mess on the disgusting floor of this cave like the corpses of the many goblins that had ambushed them a short time ago. He thinks this is the point when he’s about to slip away again. The recalling of the traumatic events of the last two days was usually the trigger for another one of the torturous fever dreams. The ambush in the cave was definitely the worst of it.

The fight with bugs was a little embarrassing maybe, the crocodile was horrifying, but none of them had actually physically hurt Ruckus that much. He had been stung by one of the bugs, but he barely noticed that wound anymore. It had probably been hit by one of the countless daggers that had been thrown with deadly accuracy his way, so he just would just consider that sting having been replaced by a stab wound and forget about it.

He seems to be staying here in the moment for now though. He takes a breath and calms himself. He may be through the worst of it now. That would be good, as the mission is not over, and hopefully reinforcements will arrive soon to aid them. Hopefully one of them is a cleric, because Ruckus doesn’t know if he will be of much use without some accelerated healing. His bioessence is tapped, so all he can do to heal his wounds for now is rest here in this less than safe environment. The miller's daughter was still out there though, and he hoped that they were not too late to save her. Nobody had actually died, although they had all come close, but he didn’t want this to all be for nothing.

He immediately felt shame at this thought though, as this feeling of resentment for not succeeding wouldn't even belong on the same plane as the grief the miller would feel.

Up till the cave it had mostly been his pride that had been hurt. Upon dispatching the guards at the mouth of the cavern, they proceeded inside in what they all thought was a cautious manner. He had volunteered to move up into the 2nd position behind one of the more experienced veterans. The cave was very dark, and he could see better than most of the rest of his companions in the murky gloom of the cave interior.

Once the last of their group were past the entrance though, the goblins had come out of the moss, mud and probably shit coating the walls as if they had been made of the stuff the moment before, had just been summoned into existence by some spell, and were still in fact made of the stuff. It actually kind of looked like they were, since they were entirely coated in whatever the foul mixture was. It was actually very horrifying to see them appear in the manner that they did, and that most certainly added the shock that allowed them to get the jump on everyone. Moving in a way that made them look like the cave was birthing them from the depths of its filth coated depths, their appearance had been startled and shocked not just him, but even the more experienced warriors in the group, and the goblins had not hesitated.

Ruckus barely even registered that they had all appeared surrounding them before the first of the daggers had flown his way. He can’t remember if that one hit him, as at least 3 or 4 more immediately followed it, and caused him to clumsily stumble about in what he was sure was a quite embarrassing attempt at defending himself against the onslaught. Based on the smell that followed the daggers paths through the air, the weapons were coated with shit; their own he assumed, but that could be being presumptuous. The goblins probably weren’t picky about the shit they covered their weapons with if they didn’t have any of their own on hand.

The crudely made throwing daggers weren’t particularly damaging individually, being hit by that many at once, followed by more in rapid succession was though, and the intensity of the goblins attack almost ended him right in that moment. He doubts he could have even taken another light tap without losing his footing and being prone on the ground at the mercy of the disgusting creatures.

His wakefulness wavers again as he gets to this point of the recollection. The ambush was the thing that left him close to death, leaning against the wall of a cave that more goblins may be on their way back to, and praying for reinforcement from hope to arrive. He grits his teeth and breaths through it. Keeping himself conscious. There may be more coming, or there may be even more in here that have yet to reveal themselves. He has to keep his wits about him, so he doesn’t close his eyes to the memory of the pain. He keeps them open and faces it. He stays focused. He grounds himself with the ranger mantra his mother taught him all those years ago, when she found him crying in the woods.

I breathe in with the wind through the trees.

I breathe out with the flow of the breeze.

My breath becomes one with the air of nature, and with it so does my body become one with its spirit. He can still feel himself starting to face, and repeats the mantra again with all the force of his will behind it….

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The cave:**

He blinks. He is still here. Thank the green goddess. It’s slower than he would like, and he could really use some magical assistance, but he is recovering. He still thinks he probably has sewer plague though. Half the party had to return to hope to recuperate. This includes Vincent, which nearly collapsed, after dealing the final blow to end the fight. That may have been the one time he saw the monk’s discipline and control over his emotions fail him in combat, though not his technique.

Ruckus had just managed to strike down one of the goblins with what he knew was the last of his strength. He was still on his feet, but it was all for show. He would not be able to withstand even the slightest attack at this point, and as he looked around the cave he didn’t feel good about their chances overall. They had multiple people down and Ruckus was about to join them. Then there was the damn blur of movement in his periphery agan, which at this point he recognized as the signal that he was about to have his ass saved.

The shadow monk Vincent had yet again saved everyone at the last second, although the party did admittedly help in this last fight. He had been knocked unconscious when the trap had been sprung, and that was why Ruckus had expected them all to meet their doom. Not initially, but as he looked around at the rest of the team being overwhelmed by the sheer number of the disgusting weaklings, he managed to think to himself that if Vincent was in the fight right now, they could pull it off. Without him though, he was afraid he may be taking his last unpleasant breaths. He really smelled bad in this cave.

The snarling face in front of him seemed to grin with its rotting jagged teeth. Even though it had just watched Ruckus cleave one of it’s comrades in half with his axe, he seemed to sense that he was at the end of his rope, and he raised his feces coated dagger to end him. It wasn’t even really a dagger. As he was able to get a closer look at the weapon with his one eye, since it was about to drivin into his face, he could see they were little more than jagged pieces of sharp material jammed into crude pieces of wood to act as hilts. Some were made from metal, others from bone and other hard material, but all of them were covered in crap. He hated these goblins. He felt a deep shame that his life was about to be ended by such an unworthy foe, who was wielding such a worthlessly crude weapon. Ruckus did guess it wasn’t fair to call it worthless, since it was about to be used to take his pitiful life.

He watches the goblins head literally turn into a spray of red mist as Vincent's fist passes through the place it used to occupy. The strike is done with such force that the body doesn’t even react. None of the momentum of the strike transfers through into the frame of the goblin to toss it aside, because the force of his fist turns the creature's entire head into blood and bone dust before it can vibrate through the rest of the thing's body.

As a result, the body just immediately crumples to the floor in front of Ruckus. Laying there in front of him, he thinks it's becoming a recurring theme at this point, and he should start interpreting the form of an enemy laying defeated in front of him missing large portions of its body to be the equivalent of Vincent saying, “Hello, and you're welcome!”

He hadn’t stopped moving though, he rode the momentum of the strike right through across the room into a roll, and came up standing right in front of the final goblin; who seemed to paralyzed with fear or shock; probably a lot of both, at the site of Vincent standing before him with that focused look of deadly intent on this face. A moment ago, it and his hoard were about to be celebrating their victory over these intruders, and within a matter of a mere few seconds, he was not the only one of them left standing.

That's when Ruckus could see that Vincent probably didn’t have that calm look on his face. He couldn’t tell, because he has his back to him at this point, but the way the goblins face turned to one of unbridled terror as he gazed into Vincent’s face, Ruckus could only guess at the rage, and violent intention that monk was staring into the poor goblin with. Yeah, at this point he almost felt sorry for the thing. To drive that feeling home, he watched as Vincent seemed to conjure up energy from some deep reservoir of strength. One that you should probably not be tapping into for fear of losing oneself within its roiling depths of aggression and anger.

There is another crack similar to what he heard when he shattered the skull of the colossal swamp crocodile, and then Vincent is walking away from what is now only half of a goblin. It doesn’t exist from the waist up anymore, and like the one he had just dispatched in front of Ruckus, he had hit it with such force that the top of the things body had been instantly turned into a bloody smear on the wall, and the waist and legs didn’t even react. They just stood there for a moment before falling over backward in an almost symbolically slow way. If there was a crowd. Ruckus pictures them all erupting in applause as soon as the legs finished their descent with a barely audible thump on the floor of the cave.

Ruckus managed to stagger his way to one of the cave walls that looked like it was mostly stone, leaned up against it, turned around to rest his back upon it, and then slid down it the floor as his legs gave out. He sat there bleeding and breathing. Actually enjoying both of those activities; the bleeding included, since a few moments ago he didn’t expect he was going to be able to do either of those things or anything else ever again. That’s when he started to fade away, and was only able to follow bits and pieces of what the plan was.

Some of the team was leaving to head back to town. Vincent was in no shape to continue, having expended himself completely over the 2 days of fighting through the swamp with a ferocity Ruckus would only expect a demon to possess. Ruckus would have gone, but he was in no condition to move. He vaguely recalls someone offering to help him to his feet, but he waved them away. He tried to make a show that he was alright and that he was simply staying because he wanted to see the mission through and save the girl. He could see on their faces that they didn’t believe that for a second though, as he clearly didn’t believe it himself enough to do a decent job of lying about it.

He not only needed time to rest, but he needed time to himself to think. There were a few others staying in the cave as well, but nobody seemed to be much in the state or mood for talking, so he figured this was the best place to get that done. Having managed to take control of if he is awake or not, he figures it would probably be a good thing for him to make the choice to sleep, rather than being dragged into the state of unconsciousness kicking and screaming by the claw tipped hands of devils made of his own regrets and shame.

\_\_\_\_\_\_\_

**The cave(later on):**

Ruckus stares into the fire he has made to help warm the cave, and hopefully deter any other creatures from the swamp stumbling in looking for a quick meal. He’s feeling much better now, and can see his companions are looking even more recovered than he is, but he still doesn’t like their chances in a fight. Especially if something surprises them, so he is not allowing himself the luxury of a deep sleep anymore while in the marshes. He will remain ever watchful throughout the night from now on in any camp he is part of this. This he vows as a ranger of the BioWealds.

He awoke still laying on the dank floor of the putrid smelling cave with a fierce new determination and resolve. He is making hard resolutions, and he will be holding himself accountable for making good on these commitments. What he at first felt as shame, then even jealousy, had turned into something else. He had finally gotten some decent rest and was not plagued by the nightmare visions of the monk saving his life, and then turning against him with his astral fire appendages. It still wasn’t that restful, but it was night and day compared to his mind being juggled back and forth between the waking and the dream worlds in the violent manner in which had endured for what seemed like an eternity. Time perception was always funny in states of delirium, and this had certainly been that. It had gone on for who knows how many hours, but it hardened him yet further. Compounding the lessons he learned while he was awak. He came aware from fugue state with the realization of a deep inner truth.

It didn’t matter if people believed him about the curse. He felt that he was an elf. He felt it in his heart, bones, blood, and soul. If that was his truth, then it mattered not if anyone else accepted it. Yes, it would still bother him when people didn’t believe him, but they were entitled to their views. It was not the way of the ranger to force your views on any subject upon those who disagreed with you, so he would have to grow up and accept this was his lot in life. He should have a long time ago, but his ego and arrogance shackled him from doing so. Both of those things have not been killed outright, but severely maimed and hobbled by his recent experiences. He feels more in control of himself, and he feels more able to let the unimportant things that have been distracting him slide away like the first drops of rain falling upon the leaves of a tree. He can focus on his true path. The path of a ranger was his truth. If he found a cure for his curse, so be it. If not, then it was his destiny to endure as he was, and to do as much good as he could despite his condition.

Obviously, he looked like a dwarf due to the curse, so anytime he mentioned being an elf it just invited ridicule, harassment, and at times even violence. He felt it very sad that people couldn’t accept someone for who they felt they were on the inside, and would allow themselves to accept what they saw on the outside. Regardless, if they chose a life of sadness, then it was not his right to stand in their way. Let those that thought he was a dwarf think it. He would not allow himself to be driven to violence over this anymore. This he vows as a ranger of the BioWealds.

He needed to act quicker. Watching the speed and efficiency of Vincent in combat was nothing less than eye opening. It was more than that. It was inspiring, and he would strive to be a warrior in that image! It was only right, seeing as how he owed his life to the monk multiple times over. If he was from a culture that made life oaths, he would probably have sworn not just his own life, but that of his first born in service to the shadow warrior. He was grateful that was not the case and would settle for buying the guy an ale, if he even drank, and having his back whenever requested, no questions asked. That seemed good to Ruckus, so he vows that as well as a ranger of the BioWealds.

He has been failing the town and his fellow adventurers. He should be documenting what he has learned about the swamp and the creatures that inhabit it. Not just for himself, but for all the citizens of Hope and those braving the swamp that use it as a base of operations. He would look in his bag for something to start taking notes with, but remembering having to borrow the quill and paper from the barkeep at the Stuck Pig, he knew he didn’t have these. He would buy them as soon as he made it back to hope, would write all he had learned about the creatures of the swamp, and post it on the boards in the stuck pig for all to benefit from the knowledge. This he vowed as a ranger of the BioWealds.

He had tried to encourage that building of platforms and hunting blinds for the purpose of making the hunting of the fauna close to the town easier, but that had garnered little interest in that context. He feels now that he may need to make the suggestion again though, but from a different viewpoint.

He has been hearing concerning stories of a cult that calls the swamp home, and for some time has been harassing the citizens and those venturing forth into the swamp. So far, hostilities have seemed to have been kept to a minimum, but he feels something coming. He senses it. It’s only a matter of time before these cultists either get bold enough to try to start extorting the town directly, and not just harassing those that leave the boundaries of Hope. If not that, then at some point one of the various groups of warriors heading out on various tasks for the town or their own personal gain will draw their wrath. Given how little civilization there is out here, there really isn’t anywhere for them to aim their vengeance besides the small village of Hope. The town needed protecting, and for it to be properly secured, it needed some fortifications. He would get these fortifications built, even if he had to do it himself.

The people of Hope needed help, and it was time he stepped up. He had not ignored that need so much as been oblivious or unaware to the point he should have been. Helping the brave yet struggling residents of this frontier village was as worthy a task as he had come across so far in all his travels. He would stay here for now, and he would be a protector of the town of Hope, a protector of the swamplands and any peaceful being who called it home, and a protector of what was right! This he vowed as a ranger of the BioWealds.