As he passed through the blue energy his skin tingled briefly before he tumbled into a grassy clearing with houses just ahead. He could hear a stream off to his left and the sound and smells of some animals behind him. He took all this in during the time it took him to roll to a crouch and look for the man he was after, the evil Rich G. The blue doorway he had jumped through winked out behind him and he heard what sounded like the thieving dog laughing on the other side of it. He didn’t smell the oiled armor at all and no tracks let from the spot he was at now.

Slowly he rose and looked down at himself. He hadn’t really had much time to think about what he looked like since the encounter with the Spider-bear and the surprisingly nicely curved BKDaemoness. His breechcloth was dirty and his whole body was matted with grass, sticks, leaves and twigs that had stuck to the sap he had rubbed his body with to mask his scent. He had small scratches on his arms and the scar that ran along his right forearm stood out stark white against his tanned skin. That was from a boar hunt years ago, and when it stormed he could feel the scar tighten up before the storm hit. Rubbing the scar absent mindedly as it throbbed in time with his heartbeat he headed for the stream to clean up before going to see the village elders and find out where he was and what to do about the thieving, murdering DoW.

He smelled smoke from green wood wafting over the stream towards him from a cottage separate from the rest of them as he cleaned up. Using the breechcloth to scrub the sticky sap off his body he was soon cleaner and presentable. He pulled a branch off a bush near the water’s edge and frayed the end of it as best he could to use on his teeth.

He felt a cleaner but hungry as he climbed out of the stream on the side with the lone cottage and began wringing the water from his single piece of clothing when he heard someone behind him. Whirling and yanking the spear from where he had stuck it in the soft ground he had his arm pulled back and the spear aimed at a woman with a single gray lock of hair. She stood watching him and lighting a pipe from a flame that danced on her thumb. “Well this is a fine way to greet the morning don’t ya think?” Her smile never made it to her eyes. But if her eyes never made it up as high as his eyes either.

The young man quickly made the sign to ward off the evil eye with his left hand while backing slowly away from the witch. “I didn’t know this was yours. I’m sorry ma’am. I’ll be on my way.”

“You’ll be wanting your clothes and a bit more I should think or Gillian will be eating you alive if you go into town that way. Now that I think about it, Cain might give her a run for her money.” The woman chuckled wryly and pointed at the wet breech where he had dropped it. “I’ll not hurt you, come around to the front and have something to eat and I’ll see if I can’t find you something a bit more. suitable. to wear. And don’t bother with the evil eye stuff, I’m not as bad as people would have you believe.” The young man followed her around the cabin, stepping over his clothes, unwilling to take his eyes off her for even the time it would take to retrieve it. His mind raced. To eat with a witch was to become her slave for dozens of years. To refuse was even worse.

A large pot sat outside the door of the house and something inside boiled quietly and without smoke or steam. When he looked into the pot it looked to be full of clothes much like she was wearing.

“Don’t mind that. You caught me on laundry day. Here’s something my man used to wear before he passed on. You look to be about his size. well, his height anyway.” She laughed again mysteriously. “So, what’s your name?” He stared at her, of course she didn’t know. She wasn’t of his tribe. “My naming day is next week. Until then I am simply called boy, or if there are two of the un-named together, then I am called Hirule’s boy, after my father.”

“You’re hardly a boy. I think you’ll need to move up your naming day a bit or the towns-people are going to get terribly confused.”

The young man recoiled at the idea of moving his naming day and stumbled backward against the pot of boiling clothes. The hiss as it burned his skin sent a wave of stench assaulting his nostrils. He jerked forward away from the heat and his feet tangled around the pants he was trying to put on. Toppling forward straight into the witches arms he saw that nestled between her breasts was a stylized piece of wood on a thin metal chain. “Ok.” She said as she helped him to his feet and pulled his pants up, “You put that away yourself and then fasten the buttons yourself too. Just a sort of townsfolk name, but not a real name which won’t come until next week. how ’bout we call you Mamuth?” Finally, exasperated she fastened the buttons on his pants and pulled the white cotton shirt over his head. “OK, now you’re presentable. What are you doing here, so far from your village?”

Mamuth told the story of BKDaemoness and the foul Rich G. who had murdered her. The witch listened intently occasionally asking a question or two. She managed to elicit the fact that BKDaemoness had indeed worn a couple of red bottles on her belt. “So, you’re going to find the DoW for your curvy-swervy friend BKDaemoness and wipe up the floor with them while looking for Rich G.?”

Mamuth looked up from the ground “Yes, I will kill them all for taking her from me. I saw the way she looked at me, she was wife material.”

“Were you dressed at the time? That might have had something to do with the look. Never mind. If you’re going to go into battle you’ll need better than that for armor. Come inside, I’ll see what I’ve got for you to wear in your campaign against the vile DoW.”

As the two of them entered the cabin and the door closed behind them a small figure crept from the shadows of the cabin back towards the stream. He knelt and picked up the breechcloth before slipping into the water where the fish darted around his wooden leg.

Part II

Meanwhile, back with BKDaemoness

As the bumpkin flashed through the portal and was gone she slid her hand down to the heal potions hanging by her belt. Biting off the wax seals and gulping the sweet fluid from the bottle before her heart stopped completely she felt her wounds healing and the blood flow return to intra-corporeal rather than inter-corporeal like it had been doing. Pulling a second bottle from her belt she drank this one more slowly, gaining strength as she swallowed the last of it. Rich G. stood across from her laughing. “I think he bought it. He’ll go back to Tristram with the tale of your death and probably single handedly take on the DoW.”

“I don’t doubt it. It’s a good thing he didn’t have time to inspect that spider-bear thing you created with your golem spell or he’d've been on to something being wrong. I TOLD you it was just too d@m* big.” She continued to close with Rich G. Eyes blazing. “Did you HAVE to run me through? Couldn’ t you have lopped off an arm or something? You KNOW how I hate being skewered.”

Rich snaked an arm around her narrow waist and pulled her close to him. The sound of chain on plate was the sound of fingernails on chalkboard and several birds launched themselves from the surrounding trees to get away from it. The two armored figures met in an open-mouthed kiss that only ended when Rich G. pulled away, gasping for air. “We make a deadly team you and I, let’s go see what this village has to offer. I’ll bet you I can collect more ears than you can. loser has to rub the winner’s back tonight before bed. Deal?”

“It’s a deal, talk dark and mysterious. When are you going to tell my why you hate the DoW so much? Didn’t you used to be one of them?” Rich G. looked at the woman again, her lips seemed almost too full, and her eyes were wide and blue. They held no trace of deception. Rich G. knew though that they never did. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about. Let’s go harvest some yokels.” He pulled the visor on his helmet down and turned to walk off in the direction of the town while BKDaemoness gathered up her bow and sword and quickly followed.

Two hours later the sun was setting on the smoking remains of the town and the two killers lay on a blanket at the edge of the village watching the smoke rise up to the heavens. The firelight cast an orange glow over the scene. Rich G. ran his hand up and down the slender arm of BKDaemoness as their bodies spooned together and night sounds began to be heard over the crackling of the last of the village.

Rich G. do you ever wonder. I mean. Does it bother you sometimes when we. erm. do what we did?”

“You mean because we’re not married?”

“No, I mean killing all these people? I salted over 20 ears and you salted almost that many. They don’t have a chance against us.”

“People? They’re not people. They’re animals. I had a dog when I was a boy. It could fetch and roll over and sit when I told it to. It knew a few tricks, but that didn’t make it people. When it got old and crippled we had to put it down. Dad made me do it cuz he was my dog. These things are just animals shaped like people. They happen to know a few tricks, but they’re not people. They’re nothing like us. Good grief! How can you think that? They live in mud and straw huts fer cryin’ out loud. Beavers build dams but that doesn’t make them people. No, I don’t feel bad, it’s just culling the herd. The weak are killed and the strongest survive. In a couple generations they might be people, but heck not now. Now they’re just there for us to practice on. Now quit being stupid and roll over. All this talk about killing has awakened The General, and I think he needs some field exercise.”

BKDaemoness rolled over and faced Rich G. in the pseudo sunset of the village’s last flickering flames. Her dark black hair fell across her shoulders like silk, reflecting red/gold highlights from the dying flames behind her. Her body pressed up against his and his breath caught in his throat as her hand pushed him on his back. Her hands traced along his body down his chest and abdomen, stopping just below his belly button. “I think The General needs a little discipline before he gets his furlough. Don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rich G. whispered softly as his eyes closed against the pain of her fingernails across his chest. They gasped in unison. One in pleasure, one in pain, both in need.

Back in Tristram, the next morning

The young man, answering to Mamuth now, stepped out of the cabin wearing leather armor and with a sword strapped to his belt. Adria, the witch, followed him. “This sword you are wearing is magical and will almost wield itself if you let it. It doesn’t substitute for real skill, but it should stand you in good stead until you have learned the skills necessary to wield a sword on your own. A spear is just too big a weapon to use in the dungeons you will have to enter to find the Lair of the treacherous fiends calling themselves the DoW.”

“Thank you for your help Adria, and for the food. I obviously have a lot to learn about the ways of your townspeople, but first I need to avenge the death of BKDaemoness and return to my village for my naming day. Then, spirits willing, I will return to Tristram.”

“The last thing you will need before you go is what I call reading gear.”

“But I cannot read.” He answered pushing his brown hair out of his eyes with one hand.

“That’s why you need the gear. Here, put this circlet on, it will allow you to read even some of the most difficult tomes. Any of them that you find you MUST read. They will teach you to wield the aethyr like another weapon, sometimes allowing you to kill from a distance like your spear, and sometimes allowing you to heal a loved one. The aethyr isn’t dangerous, it is just a tool. Use it well and it will serve you well.” She rested the thin band of silver around his head, catching his hair and pulling it out of his face and using the circlet to keep it there. “Good luck Mamuth, the DoW have been a thorn in the sides of the decent people of Tristram for too long.”

Mamuth stepped out into the morning sun and walked towards town running over some of the things he had learned through the night with the witch. Some of the things would serve him soon. The warning to avoid the she-devil known as Gillian, kin to the succubae that lived in the depths of hell/hell, for example would come in handy almost immediately. Thinking about baseball was something that had puzzled him at first, but when the time came to use it he found that it had indeed had the desired affect, as he really hadn’t a clue what baseball was.

As he crossed the wooden bridge into the town he heard the ringing of steel against steel and guessed that must be coming from the one Adria had referred to as Griswold. She had a great deal to say about the man’s copious amounts of back-hair as well, but Mamuth didn’t think that was something that would help him in his dealings with the man, and he had to deal with him to get a shield. Adria was very specific that he needed a shield and Griswold was the one to provide it.

“What kin I do fer ye?” The large man yelled. Mamuth guessed that he was partially deaf from the constant sound of his work.

“Adria sent me here to pick up her man’s shield. She said it was a bit hacked up and you were repairing it for her. An Obsidian Tower Shield of the Zodiac I think she called it.”

“Aye, that it was. hacked I mean. I’ve never seen such a thing before, unless you count the Godly Plate of the Whale that time, that was so hacked there was nothing I could do for it though, I just melted it down and used it to make napkin rings for Gillian. Well, speak of the devil, here she comes now. I’ll go fetch yer shield fer ye.”

Mamuth spun at the mention of Gillian and a voluptuous doe eyed female was slinking across the square towards him bearing a loaf of still steaming bread. Her eye lashes almost whooshed as she blinked they were so long. He felt certain they could have reached out and un-fastened his armor if he weren’t careful. “Hello there stranger.” She crooned. Her voice was like warm honey and she knew how to use it.

Barely remembering Adria’s warning in time Mamuth pushed his heel down hard on the sharp rock he had in his boot. With a grimace of pain he nodded politely. “Good morning trollop.” He didn’t dare say her name, so instead used one of Adria’s less descriptive words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it sounded milder than most of the names she had used for Gillian. Evidently it was the wrong choice though.

Her pretty face twisted itself into a snarl and her eyes seemed to flash tiny pin points of fire. “You’ve been talking to that cow Adria haven’t you? Did she get her clutches on you already? D@mn her for the witch she is!” As Gillian turned to leave a thin chain around her neck revealed briefly a golden depiction of a barrel resting in the valley created by her.

“Here ye go. One slightly hacked shield. Where did Gillian go so quick? I figured she’da brought ye a bit of bread or something. She’s been our official greeter since Noone does it better.”

“Ah, the strumpet remembered business elsewhere oh hirsute backed sir.”

“What? Ahh. ye been over to Adria’s have ye? She’s quite the wench ain’t she? Did she show you that thing with the grapes?”

Mamuth blushed from his knees up to the top of his head. Until last night he hadn’t even known what a grape was, but he knew now, and also knew that there were two ways to eat them. a boring way and a not so boring way. Mumbling his thanks he left, head down so others wouldn’t see the brilliant crimson of his face and went to the healer’s house.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently while listening without meaning to, to the conversation taking place inside.

“I wouldn’t move just yet young Archangel.”

“I won’t… what did you call me?”

“Archangel. I know that’s not the name you go by where you are from, but the Horadrim were very specific when they laid out their rituals, and though that may not be what you were, it is what you are now. Just try and sit up slowly and drink this and I’ll be right back.”

The door opened to reveal an old man carrying a porcelain saucer. Behind him on a cot lay an injured young man about Mamuth’s age. He appeared to be drinking something that tasted terrible. He never looked in Mamuth’s direction. “I’m here for the package of Adria’s?”

The elderly healer leaned forward and looked around the square before pulling back into the house and shutting the door, as he leaned forward a small, stylized wooden plank swung free from his neck on a thin chain. When he returned he had a belt with almost a dozen pockets in it. “Here you go. The ones on the right are healing and the ones on the left are aethyr.” Seeing Mamuth’s puzzled expression “Sword arm healing, shield arm aethyr.”

“Ah, thank you. What’s wrong with the one in there?”

“Him? Nothing really, he’s just got to run down and kill Diablo real quick like is all. shouldn’t be much trouble, nothing like taking on the DoW. You’ ve got your work cut out for you now move along, you’re burning day light.”

He made his way across the bridge behind the healer’s house. The last Adria had heard the DoW were hiding out in the caves back here. He thought to stop and see the one she referred to as Wirt, but her town when she talked about the boy implied he would be better off not seeing him at all. Mamuth was amazed that a person with no leg was allowed to live, and wanted to see it for himself. Still, as the healer had said, he was ‘burning day light.’ So he went to the mouth of the caves and stood looking deep into the darkness.

Mamuth started into the caves, walking cautiously down the stairs and not liking the oppressive feeling of the cave at all. After being raised outside with only the sky as a roof the caves seemed too close, too confining. He focussed on each step to take his mind off the weight of the world above pressing down on him and his breathing returned to normal. As he walked he saw what looked like a shiny metal ball lying on the stairs. Kneeling he picked it up and in jingled flatly in his hand. It was a small bell. As he held it and continued to descend he felt the air getting warmer and then heard the jingling of more bells coming towards him. He froze and looked around. There was no where to take cover in the narrow cave. The low ceiling seemed to almost push him out into the open.

Up towards him came a man clad in red and blue tights with a large hat with several points on it. At the end of each of the flopped over points was a bell, much like the one Mamuth held in his palm.

“Thank-you kind sir. I thought my meter was a bit off, it must have been this bell. I have no way to repay you of course, but here, take this ring. Perhaps it will help you more than it did me.” With a quick motion the tights wearing man switched the bell for the ring while Mamuth stood staring at the fool. Here he was in armor with a sword and this man appeared to be wearing silk and carrying a stick. What chance could he possibly have against the demons that waited below.

“Well, I have to run, dinner is on. There should be plenty left for you down there, I sprinted from the last set of stairs and didn’t kill anything. I found that ring in one of the chests that I stopped to open though. You’ll want to watch out for the tall gray monsters. They have a tendency to launch lightening at you from a distance. If you close with them though, they’ll attack with their claws. I’m not sure which is worse, but at least the claws don’t make you wet your pants.”

Mamuth watched the figure continue up the stairs and shook his head. He needed to hurry, the townspeople were quite mad, and it may be beginning to affect him. He continued downward until he exited beside what looked like a river of molten rock. The heat coming off it was unbearable. He slipped the ring on his finger to free up his hand to draw his sword and the heat seemed to lessen a bit, at least to a bearable amount. He knew though, that too long in here would dry his leather armor and make it brittle.

He pulled his sword out of it’s sheath and was blasted from behind by what felt like a blow to the back, but which shook his entire body in spasms of pain that jerked him around like a rag doll. When the pain subsided he spun just in time to see a tall gray horned demon launching what looked like lightning at him again. He dropped to the ground and rolled to one side just as it passed over head. Remembering the silk man’s words he threw himself at the demon and he found his sword over his head coming down at the thing’s shoulder. Without knowing what he was doing, entirely in the grip of the magic sword he found himself hacking and slicing at the thing. When he was done he stood over the bloody body of the creature, chest heaving, looking about for more of them. He sheathed his sword and wiped his hands off on his pants as if to remove the taint of the magic from himself.

He had lost control of his body twice in the span of a minute, once to the lightning blast of the creature, and once to the magic of the sword. That was surely a path to an early grave. He was a hunter, and as such he had come to depend on his control of his body and awareness of his surroundings. The magic was making him sloppy.

Slowly, he unbuckled the sword and let it fall to the cave floor. Next he removed his armor and left it beside the sword and shield. Finally the magic helmet and ring that protected him from the heat came off. When he was done he stood in breeches next to a pile of equipment holding his bone knife in his left hand. He wiped the sweat from his face with his right and set off looking for the Lair of the DoW. He wasn’t sure how he would find it, but was sure that he would.

As he turned a corner, body hugging the wall, a small figure darted stiff-leggedly out from the shadows by the stairs and scooped up the abandoned equipment. With a flash of red hair the figure was gone again, back up the stairs. A piece of cloth muffled the sound of the wooden leg on the stone stair.

As he followed the wall he saw a cage in the middle of a room full of the gray creatures. They hadn’t seen him yet, but he knew that was only a matter of time. He had killed one so he knew they could be killed even though they were demons. With a deep breath of the hot sulfurous air he put his knife in his teeth and readied himself for what may be a suicidal charge to Valhalla. Screaming the name of his paternal grandfather he rushed the cage and climbed the wooden walls like a squirrel up a tree. From the first sound of his scream the demons had let fire barrage after barrage of lightning, but they were aiming where he had been, not where he was going to be. He assessed their weakness while he ran, assuming he could simply keep moving and stay free of their fell blasts.

Once over the top he threw himself into the cage with them, onto their shoulders where he stood awkwardly while they flailed for him in surprise. They were too crowded to reach up effectively, but that would soon change. His bone knife was a white blur as it sliced the throat of the creature he stood on. A gout of red ichor sprayed the demon in front and Mamuth followed it slicing throat after throat as the bodies piled up and the blood made the cage floor a muddy goo.

Panting he faced the last of the creatures, just out of arm’s reach of it he stood on the fallen body of the last demon he had killed covered in their blood. The creature’s arms went wide as it prepared to launch a lightning strike at the young man, and in that moment when the creature was open to attack Mamuth lunged forward, knife extended and the blade broke off against the breast bone of the demon. Unarmed he saw the creature begin to close his arms around him in a bear hug that would crush the life out of him if it closed on him.

He ducked and threw himself between the demon’s legs into the blood soaked ground on the other side. Bracing against the body of one of the fallen demons he launched himself at the monster just as it started to turn. The creature went down, losing it’s footing in the slippery cage floor and crashed on top of one of the other dead demons. Blindly, as sweat and blood ran into his eyes, Mamuth reached for the creature’s head and with straining muscles wrenched it around farther than it was meant to turn. The crack of the bones breaking was the sound he hadn’t dared hope to hear. The quivering body of the dead demon lay under him as he collapsed and tried to catch his breath in the heat. He felt himself getting dizzy from it but didn’t have time to deal with that now.

He rested for a minute and pushed himself slowly to a sitting position. He wiped his eyes as best he could with his grime covered hands and blinked in amazement at the situation he was in now. 8 dead demons, no weapon and almost totally naked. Trickles of sweat rolled through his wet, matted hair and down his back. As he pulled himself to his feet he felt the salt in his sweat stinging the cuts he had gotten but not noticed during the fight. There was a soreness when he breathed that he thought probably stemmed not from the heat, but from a bruised or broken rib. He pulled a piece of the cage off and used, using part of his breeches, tied one of the demon’s horns to the end to form a spear. a weapon he was used to at least, even though it would probably fall apart the first time he used it.

As he opened the cage door and stepped out of the cage he saw a group of barrels just outside the door. Four of them seemed to watch him as he approached. He pushed at them with the end of the spear and two of the rocked easily while two seemed full of something. Using the end of his spear he pried them open and found they were full of water. With a grin he climbed into one of them to wash the demon’s blood off to ascertain the damage they had done. He drank from the other one. Then, with a grim smile he smashed all four of them apart. He would not be swayed by the Barrel Lord’s bribes.

Meanwhile

Rich looked down at BKDaemoness as she took aim at the squirrel. He didn’t understand why, but whenever they encountered one of the little vermin she insisted on wasting an arrow on it. She would retrieve arrows from men, women and children, but the ones she used to kill the gray, bushy-tailed ones she left jutting from their dead bodies, unless the arrow passed completely through the rat-like creature. She had explained it to him once, as those arrows being tainted but that didn’t clear anything up at all. She let fly with the arrow, neatly nailing the squirrel’s body to the tree. She had joined him suddenly one day on his quest to root out the DoW. All of the members of the LoS had their reasons, most linked to a hatred for the exploding wooden demons. She seemed to hate the DoW more than the barrels though as he had never seen her destroy one. Now squirrels. that was another story all together. He caught himself staring at her as a thought nibbled on the edges of his awareness. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts “Are we done with our little vendetta against nature now? Can we please get to the meeting point? If we don’t hurry we’ll be late.” His lips set to a thin line, “You know I hate being late.”

“Fine, but we can make up time by going through the Darkwood. I know a short cut. As long as that suspension bridge over the canyon is still there we’ll cut off a couple of hours of travel time. We’ll have to deal with the dwarf that guards it, but he’s let me pass before so it shouldn’t be that big a problem.”

Rich narrowed his eyes, entering the Darkwood was an unnecessary risk that he didn’t think they needed to take, but if it saved time it would be worth it. Their dalliance the night before had lasted into the morning and put them behind schedule. “Fine, but if you’re wrong about the bridge you will be most unhappy.”

BKDaemoness looked at Rich G. and saw him as if for the first time. She wondered just what had happened to make him so scared he responded to everything with violence or threats, even his lovemaking was violent. She hoped they got the Brown Rune from Ichabod, perhaps that would help Rich G.’s mood. The LoS needed that rune before their final assault on the DoW. Ichabod seemed to have only a nodding relationship with sanity, but his magic was powerful.

Back in Tristram

The thin red-haired boy emerged from the mouth of the cave carrying his newest acquisitions in a large sack that he dragged behind him. He went to hide it behind the tree, where he kept most of his wares and saw there was someone there already. He tensed for a moment until he recognized Gillian’s silhouette. He approached slowly, lifting the bag from the ground so he could sneak up on her. He had been trying for weeks to pinch her rear, but she always managed to avoid it. Maybe this time.

“I hear you Wirt. Don’t even try it. I have a request for you.”

“I wasn’t going to try anything. Honest. I was just getting back from a trip down below to get more things to sell to the heroes that come through.”

“How’s he doing?”

“What? Who?”

“You know who I mean. You and I both know where you get that stuff. How’s Mamuth?”

“He’s fine physically, but mentally he’s snapped completely. He took all this stuff off and just left it on the ground. He went off into the caves looking for the DoW lair with nothing but his skivvies and a little knife. Sorry, Gillian, but I think he’s probably dead by now.”

“No, he’s not dead yet. One of the Sisters would have told me. They have ways of knowing things like that. OK. I need you to go back down there and stop him from finding the refuge of the DoW. If he gets too close do something to stop him.”

“What’s in it for me? It’ll be more than my usual 50 GP fee or a loaf of that bread you foist off on tourists.” Wirt had a gleam in his eyes that belied his apparent years.

Gillian shuddered. It was an open secret that he was part demon-spawn and aged slower than his full human cohorts. Wirt was at least as old as Gillian was, but he looked younger, and the thought of what he would want made Gillian more than a little queasy. “You’re doing it for the DoW! You can’t think I’ll.”

“I don’t think you will Gillian. I know you will. If only to get your legs around the newcomer you’ll do more than let me pinch you on your perky little bottom. Ever lay down with a half-breed before Gillian? It’ll change your opinion of normal men. Even Rich G. and his exotic tastes will be boring in comparison for what I have planned for us when I return with the new stranger. You’d better get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Gillian stared at the thing in front of her. She wasn’t seeing the half-demon she was seeing a past full of men she had tried to find a feeling of security with. A parade of nameless faces that marched into and out of her boudoir, none of them filling the part of her that yearned for the love of another. In the brief glimpse she recognized for a minute that she was looking for love in the act of sex and would never find it. She shoved the idea out of her mind with a violence that would have surprised even Adria. Love was another word for weakness, she didn’t need love. Love was just a way to let someone else hurt you, and she was finished with being hurt. She was a vamp and used men as they use women. She just did it first. “You bring him back to me before he discovers the hideout and I’ll do things to you that’ll curl your pegged leg.” Unable to face his smug smile any longer she turned and walked back to town. She needed a bath.

Back in the Caves

Mamuth kicked the wooden remnants of the barrels looking for something that might be of some use to him. He found nothing useful so started off again to find the Lair of the evil DoW to avenge the death of BKDaemoness. He moved slowly, revitalized by the water from the barrel, and more cautious after his amazing luck with the Lightning Demons. From around a stalagmite he heard the noise of something eating. Something big from the sound of it. Moving slowly he crept around the wall to look full into the face of what looked like it may once have been a man before it ate a village worth of food. There were crumbs of what looked like bread dotting the front of the huge man.

Mamuth recoiled in horror at the site of a man that large. The man clutched a green and white box to his chest. The box looked to be full of small loaves of bread with holes in the middle of them. There were a couple of these bread rings on each of the man’s chubby little fingers. Some sort of glaze coated the donuts and ran stickilly down the man’s arms in the stifling heat of the place.

“Back away from the Donuts! There’s nothing to see here. move along. move along citizen.” The enormous man said around a mouthful of the. donuts. “What happened to you? Have the donuts done this to you?”

“You mean you don’t know who I am? I am Bob. I was cursed by a yellow-bellied Skee to eat these things every time I find them. I used to enjoy them on occasion, but now, because of some fanfic magic I can’t stop myself from eating them. He’s got agents in the DoW planting boxes of them everywhere. I can scarcely reach my sword any more to defend myself. He plans to continue doing this to me until I can no longer defend myself and then he will come to claim my ear. He is a cowardly dog, and if he were to meet me in combat he would surely fall and I would have the last laugh as I quietly munched on his tasty ear, rolled in cinnamon sprinkles!”

Mamuth watched Bob’s chins writhe and dance as he talked. “I am on a quest to find the DoW and destroy them.” Maybe you could help me? Where is their lair?”

Bob looked at the young man in front of him “In your underwear you’re going to beard the DoW in their lair? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Do you know where it is? If I destroy them you will be free of your curse and can exact your revenge on this Skee. I will leave him for you. It is a matter of honor for you to take him yourself after what he has done to you.” Bob pushed himself up off the ground, using the wall for support. Portions of the wall collapsed under his weight. “Sure, I can tell you where it is. If you’ll bring me a box of baby-back, baby-back, baby-back. ribs. I’ll tell you.”

Mamuth backed away slowly, not liking this turn of events. It seemed somewhere in the piggish eyes of Bob, something was happening, something that made Mamuth think Bob was seeing a big walking/talking donut when he looked at Mamuth. “OK. I’ll do that. You wait here Fat Bastard. I’ll be back with them. If you get too close to me though, the smell of those donuts may over power me and I may try and take one, so just stay where you are, alright?”

At the thought of losing a donut Bob froze where he was and whimpered. “Just come back. I’ll be out soon. The DoW is over in that direction. You’ll have to find the stairs that go down to the next level first, the entrance to the DoW camp is halfway down those stairs.”