In Dungeons Deep

Filling up on water, he splashed a little onto the orb. Still nothing. "Meh, worth a shot anyway."

Curious if the smoke had cleared, he grabbed the crystal and popped it into place. Just a quick peek out the door would do the trick. The air was clear, though the scent of smoke lingered. However this place was built, it was strangely well ventilated.

It was also very much occupied this time. Not by rats either, but short, stocky men. Their heads were covered by greasy black manes of matted hair, out of which pig-like ears flapped and drooped as they snuffled and poked around the corridors. They wore patchwork cloaks and loincloths over squat, pale bodies. There were three in total, two of them armed with makeshift shanks and clubs in either hand, the third hunched behind them under the weight of a large sack.

The two were muttering growlish words to one another, while the other kept himself bent low, hidden under layers of skin and wild hair.

"Nothin' up here. Ain't been for long time. Is just stupid rats. Stupid rats doin' stupid rat things what knock over the fire thingies."

One of them grunted and he heard another yip in pain.

"Lesco! Back home we get. On yer feet lug."

There was another pained noise, followed by a whining voice. "M'tired! You made me pull all dis up here, an' ain't nuffin. Lemme sit."

"You do what I says, or I boot yer down them stairs and make whats left of ya lug the loot. Now move it!"

He was about to shut the door when it was abruptly rammed inward, throwing him to the ground. A fourth man stomped into his room, grinning wickedly around a pair of yellowing tusks. Seeing him up close he could tell the man was more monster, albeit a short one, no taller than three feet with matted dreadlocks and thick, stumpy limbs.

"Got us a looky loo, boys! An a pretty one too. Mama always said the pretty ones taste best." He was covered in grime and soot, but his hands held the ornate leg of a table or chair that had been bound with tendons and decorated with rusted nails and bits of jagged stone.

Furious over the invasion, rage overrode his initial shock and grabbed for targe. The little brute came at him with a wild overhead swing that Hogarth barely managed to catch, and the impact rattled both parties for a half moment as they slammed together then repelled. It gave him just enough time to shove the shield into his attacker and force him to make a stumbling step backwards.

They both recovered in the heartbeats that passed, Hogarth rising to his feet, the little man settling his posture and grip on the club to face him. He'd lost some of his confidence when it was apparent his foe towered over him, but it was restored when one of his companions took up the doorway.

"You're halfway to cooked, meat!" He roared, coming in swinging for Hogarth's torso. The targe was taking a beating as he battered away the next blow, cracking as it did.

Before the man could build for another swing he bowled into him, driving with all his strength to push the smaller man into the other. Moving them was like trying to ram statues, but anger and battle focus helped him power through enough to set the two back into recovery. It was the time he needed to turn and sweep his own weapon from the ground by his bed.

Properly armed if not armored, adventurer faced monster with the cold certainty that death was close at hand. Hogarth charged, and the two creatures did the same. His shield battered away an overhead swing from the shank, but he was forced to intercept the gnarled club with his own to keep the nasty thing from caving in his chest.

They traded blows this way over and over, battering and bashing, struggling to gain an edge and wear their enemy down. Hogarth let out a triumphant roar as his invaders broke first. Knocking the stabber from its hand, he delivered a kick that threw the second brute bodily into the one waiting outside the door. free to fully engage his first attacker properly armed and guarded, he feinted a block then jerked back to simply dodge one of the heavy swings of the monster's club. He had a fraction of a second to snarl and gnash his tusks before Hogarth's mace rattled his brains with strike to the temple. He had no way of knowing if the man was dead, but he crumpled into hairy heap on his floor.

He must have looked a strange sight, a burger flipper in a tattered uniform, armed with a shield and mace as he stepped over his fallen foe and glared murderously at the three remaining. They were backing down the hall slowly, weapons raised defensively as the two murmured and the third, still burdened with their belongings, shuffled behind them.

Suddenly they made their move, but it wasn't the one he'd expected them to. Ripping the bag from his shoulders roughly, the pair shoved their pack mule forward then took off sprinting with the bag. Hogarth was left dumbfounded as the one left behind fell to his knees with a squawk of surprise.

"Hey! You little bastards!" He snapped his arm into a prepared swing towards the last man but it squealed and raised shaking, open hands.

"Surrenner! I ent fight! You win! I surrenner!"

Hogarth cursed, uncertain what to do now. In games your enemies would fight until they died, but so far the things that tried to kill him here were more determined to survive the attempt rather than commit everything to it. He had no true experience with how real battles would turn out.

He listened until the clanking and rattling of whatever they were running off with slowly faded before aiming the business end of his mace away from what was now, apparently, his prisoner. The other man was...what? Dead? In a coma, about to be dead? Just unconscious? He wasn't sure, and a twist in his insides told him he didn't like the feeling of having possibly killed another intelligent being. Although the fact that he'd attacked first eased his conscience.

"Alright, you! Get your ass up and wait in that room there while I think of something."

Mewling and murmuring his compliance, the creature slunk into the dark room. There was just enough light to see the hairy little person hunch in front of the cold fireplace, with two reflective beads shining against the light staring back towards him.

Grabbing the fallen brute by the ankle, heaved and dragged the body out into the hallway. Under the light of the torch he took a moment to study it, both to see what it looked like and check for signs of life.

He was dead. His chest didn't move, and when he felt in front of his face, the air was still. He couldn't see very well through the dirty locks of hair, but he thought the skull was probably more deformed than it had been before he hit it. The skin underneath the fur and grime was pale, somewhere on the European spectrum, but with the torchlight it was hard to tell much else. But for the odd ears and tusked jaws, he might have been battling squat little neanderthals.

Getting rid of the rats had been one thing, but a whole body in a fireplace just didn't sit right for the corpse of something that could talk. He wasn't interested in becoming a cold blooded murder hobo just yet, nor did he want to see he could stomach butchering a person for cremation, so he simply dragged the body down the hall to the room he'd burned down.

The effect of the fire had been more dramatic than he was expecting. He had guessed everything would be blackened char, and that much was true. But evidently the fire had weakened the stone and reached the support beams on the ceiling, causing part of the ceiling and the wall dividing rooms to collapse. The fire had remained contained, but now both rooms had been flooded with soil and crumbled mortar.

Well, it gave him a new option at least. Rather than burning, he could bury the body. Or at least cover it with dirt and stone. The only downside was not having a shovel.

The shovel thing turned out to be a big deal, but Hogarth was determined to at least cover the body in a layer of rocks. He stacked as many broken blocks and stone he could get from the broken wall, then scooped and kicked at the hard soil until there was a mound in the corner where the body once was. It looked strange, but that was a concept rapidly losing its tether to how he perceived it. When everything is weird, what's normal?

He was dirty, sweaty and above all, hungry when he finally returned to find his prisoner had scooted to the edge of the door, just inside of it, and had been peeking now and again down the hall. The growl in his stomach was beginning to make him wonder just what lengths he'd be expected to go to in order to actually eat. Something, or someone?

His stomach turned at the notion of eating anything of the man he'd just buried.

"Alright, buddy. I got questions. First, the fuck are you? Second why are you here, and third, are more of you going to come back?"

Head down, he watched as the creature kept track of the number of questions, extending a pudgy finger for each one. When he stopped to wait for an answer, a softer face than the ones he'd seen on the others raised to nervously meet his gaze. When he pushed some of the wild strands of black hair over the shoulders, it was suddenly apparent that 'he' was in fact a 'she'. Their noncombatant was a female of the species. Her nose was round and a little snubbed, and rather than thick tusks her mouth was pouty with plump lips. She wasn't outright pretty, but underneath the unibrow and sweaty smudges was a face on the cuter side of the spectrum. She had the same body type, short and thick with muscles, with a furry tunic that reached her knees. No weapons that he could see, and since the others had liberated her of her burden, no loot or supplies.

"Erm, I Lug, from Stoneriver clan." Her voice was deeper than he'd expect of someone her size, with a little gravel to give it a growl. She held up a pinky as she spoke, then raised another as she answered the next question. "I lug loot, we hunting more loots, feel stone shivers. Climb stairs, smell smoke, poke around for loots. Find you instead. Smashemgrab leader, he try fight. Lost big. Rockbite and Skitter ran away, probably go back to clan. Might tell truth, might tell lies. Left Smashengrab. If they get back, probably wag lies and stay away. Packs not like hunters with scaredy guts." The last question answered, she wiggled her fingers then closed them, watching him intently through bangs that refused to stay out of her face for long.

Hogarth sighed and scratched the growing stubble along his jaw. He couldn't kill her, that much he determined. If he let her go, she might convince her tribe he was weak enough to take another crack at. He'd already known what decision he'd make, it just sucked to make it.

"Alright. What was your name?"

"Lug."

He blinked, realizing she'd told him already and had taken it for a poorly formed sentence. She was Lug, who lugged. Their naming sense was weird, but at least they spoke English. Made things much more convenient.

"Alright, well Lug, if you swear not to tell anyone about me, you can go back to your village."

"Hah?" She gawped, brows furrowing in confusion.

"You're free. Go home, I'm not gonna hurt you."

"But...but I surrennered. Rockbite 'n Skitter is long gone. I get ate up for sure goin' back with no pack, s'too far."

"Uh. Well, shit. I don't know what to do then."

Eyes wide as a puppy, Lug scooted on her bottom out into the hall, closer to his legs. Her lower lip poked out and if he wasn't sure she had zero guile to speak of, he'd say she was outright hamming it up. Instead she looked utterly pitiful and dared a faint tug on his pant leg. "I surrennered. Can't you keep me..?"

Fuck, right in the feels. This was the kind of thing that was going to get him killed, sooner rather than later. Rationally there was no way to believe anything this member of a hostile tribe of raiders was saying. She was just so earnest and fragile looking, ears drooped and big eyes sad but hopeful...

"Fine. Alright. Okay! I guess we're doing this." His chuckle was almost manic as he made peace with his decision. "You can stay with me. I have no food, but hell at least you'll be safe while we figure out what we're gonna do."

"Erm, Lug help? I be best hearth tender. Big Boss never regret it!"

"Hogarth." He corrected.

"Ho...garf?" She repeated, clearly uncertain why she did.

"That's my name. Hogarth."

Her expression quirked like she thought it was funny, but didn't want to laugh outright. "Erm, okies Boss. Hogarth."

Her name was her job, but his was funny? The thought made him snerk into his nose. At least this would be funny, whatever else it ended up leading to.

He gestured for her to rise, then helped her stand. Upright, The top of her wild mane of hair gave her an extra few inches but left her still eye level with his stomach. Without the distractions or obstructions from before, her straightened posture revealed the telltale signs of a woman's curves on a short frame, rather than seeming childish. The men from before had certainly looked like anything but children, and hadn't fought like them either.

With a gesture, he encouraged her to walk ahead of him as they returned to his room. The gem above came to life once he was in range, and he was able to push open the door to admit them both inside.

The little woman didn't hesitate to look around in every corner, oohing at this or that, lifting onto tip toes to peer at the baubles he'd arranged on the lowest shelf. Since he was committed, Hogarth didn't bother to hold her in suspicion. He was too tired, too hungry to bother. If things didn't change soon, grilled whatever-he-killed-next would be on the menu. Whether it was rats, bugs, or some other kind of creature lurking on the floors below.

"I'm just gonna rest a while, Lug. Make yourself comfortable. That bucket over in the corner, its for, you know. Keep the barrel water clean, don't break anything." Hogarth gulped down a ladles' worth of water, made sure the bar was in place on the door, then tucked the crystal inside his shirt to make extra sure she didn't change her mind. Slumping onto the cot, he tucked the glowing gem in his shirt. "Just...be good okay." Just like that, he was out.

The smell of something unfamiliar tickled Hogarth's awareness. With a groan he sat up, muscles stiff and twinging in places he hadn't stressed in years. He jumped slightly at the wiggling mass of black tendrils at the foot of his bed before realizing he'd ended up with a strange room mate. Muttering a curse to himself, he leaned forward and raised his knees so that he could rest his arms on them.

"What are you up to, Lug?" He asked, hoping the answer wasn't going to be something weird.

"Meh, you got no eatins and I got no pack no more, so I growed some mushers. That okay Boss..?" She offered him what looked to be a gray and brown bit of wrinkly leather, steaming at the end of a bent fork.

"Yeah, sure." He accepted the offering, too hungry to be picky about food. The fact that she'd had any, and it didn't look like it was some kind of mystery meat was a comfort in itself. Taking a bite, it turned out to just taste like unseasoned grocery store mushroom. He snapped up the rest, Lug responded to with a shy smile.

"I cook better when find better foods. Mushers good for hungry times." Standing up, she padded around the cot to the water barrel, where the side had become overgrown with fungus. Hogarth's jaw dropped not at the strange appearance of fungi, but the fact that Lug was naked from the waist up. She still wore a little hide loincloth, but from pudgy little belly to full, jiggling breasts she had nothing but hair curling all around her.

Hogarth gaped as she casually pulled an assortment of mushrooms from the wood, then left them in a little pile by the stove. There was no way he could see her as anything but a short, stocky woman now. Her hips were wide and her thighs round, with a bubbled bottom her tunic had done a disservice to. She was also surprisingly clean. Her black mane of hair had a glossy sheen to it, and the matted tangles had combed loose. Somehow she'd managed to scrub away the grime from her skin, revealing a rosy cream complexion marred by old scars and fresh scratches and bruises.

Hogarth felt a pang of sympathy for the hard life this little woman must have led, both imagined and remembered from before the fight. A meek little dwarfish orc, goblin like woman in a tribe of ruthless hunters and raiders. Now abandoned and at the mercy of a giant stranger.

Watching her, she seemed content to place little round mushroom caps on the mouth of the stove, then wander off to poke through some of the things he'd found but yet to give a purpose to. When she found the fabrics, she oo'd softly and began to arrange them into different piles. When she finished that, she scooped up the largest pile and carried it over to set beside the barrel.

"Boss eat some more?" She asked, pausing one project to check on the mushrooms. She held the latest batch in her hands, bouncing and blowing on them atop her palms till they had cooled. Hunger didn't let him refuse, but he only took some of them.

"Thank you, Lug. You eat some too. How'd those mushrooms get there?" He gestured at the barrel, then began popping morsels into his mouth one at a time. It was a relief to feel his stomach filling with something besides water.

"Is just a little kitch witching. All Stoneriver sisters trade green tricks, good for hearth tending. Strong hearth, strong warriors." She hesitated to eat, looking back up at him with wide eyes. "Boss sure..?"

Hogarth nodded before chomping down the last one in his fingers. "Just keep cooking them, please. I'm starving."

Happy to oblige, Lug pounded her share then eagerly plucked away at the fungal growth for another batch to cook. Sliding off the bed, Hogarth stretched every muscle he could before checking the junk for anything that Lug might find a use for. Most of it was useless, at least to his present situation. "Guess the next move will be going downstairs. What's the rest of the dungeon like, Lug? I've only ever been on this floor."

The little woman considered his question much like the others before, giving it ponderous consideration before answering. "Is cold, in the twisty ways. Like here, but bigger. Other tribes, peoples, all gone. Rats and creepy crawlies take place. Lots of furs and meats, but no shineys. This place old, packs not come for long time. Smashemgrab hope he get lucky, find enemy pack to loot. Only found bad luck." She cooked as she spoke, using their only fork to carefully roast the bigger chunks of mushrooms while the smaller ones she kept carefully balanced on the mouth of the stove.

Hogarth didn't like the sound of it, but from what he could tell, meat was going to either be rodents or bugs going forward. The mushrooms were a welcome feast compared to the last few days, but he was going to need protein and other forms of nutrition in the long run. They both were, now that he'd taken on the responsibility of keeping Lug with him.

When he sat back down on the cot, she was ready with another batch of mushrooms. Her smile was small but genuine as she held up her offering, and he collected half again. They ate in silence for a moment, both considering the situation they'd found themselves in.

The rest of the mushrooms went quickly, and he and Lug were happy to simply share them in silence. Feeling the hour getting late and finally having sated his appetite, Hogarth looked forward to a decent sleep. The next day would determine a lot of how he progressed into the dungeon, and it would be nice to face it feeling energetic. Kicking off his shoes, Hogarth stretched out onto his cot before realizing he'd forgotten something.

"Hey Lug, where do you want to- oof..! Uh?" He didn't get the chance to finish the question before Lug climbed the end of the cot and slumped atop him, head resting on his stomach as her arms tucked around his waist. Nestled in between his legs, she reminded him a little of the cat his family once had. Half wild except at bed time, when she'd curl up on his legs to sleep.