The temple at Quakegloves was probably a good place to store books for the moment: after all, it had kept these ones safe for a thousand years. Thob stowed his collection before turning in for the night. If he came across more books in his travels, he’d try to bring them back here.
When dawn came Thob felt… creative. All this reading had given him an idea: why not try his hand at some writing? He’d read enough to have a general idea of what it should look like. He found an empty scroll in the old library, and a guide on how to write:
In a few hours, he was done:
NOBODY FORETELLS
No one can tell you what will happen in your life. My name is Thob, and I was a miner for most of my life. But now I am a writer and a librarian. I will tell you how it happened.
I
I found a lot of books on my travels. I was trying to find alcohol, but I found books. But I think that books are important also. So I started taking the books I found. There was a book about some old dwarf I found in a hillock. I found the book, that is, not the dwarf, he’s probably dead because he lived in the 200s and now it’s the 1000s. It wasn’t the first book I found, but it’s an example of what I do: I find books, and take them where they won’t be lost anymore, so that people can read them.
II
Then I found a fortress full of books, or rather a temple in a fortress full of books. That is, the temple was in the fortress, and it was full of books. There was a library in the fortress also, but there were no books in it, just paper. So I read the books in the temple, but not all of them, just the most interesting. There were many books about that value of knowledge, like “Ignorance: Problems and Solution.” I think this an important point, and it’s why I want to save the books I find: so other people can learn that knowledge, which is important.
So you see, no one told me I would find a lot of books and become a librarian, but here I am. I still wish I had found some alcohol, though.
Well, it wasn’t perfect—but not bad for a first attempt, he thought.
Before he left Quakegloves, Thob wanted to try one other thing. His dealings with deities had so far not been very fruitful, but now that he’d found a shrine of his own goddess, Egesh, he thought he might try again. Maybe she’d be more helpful—he was a member of her religion, after all. He went down to the shrine, stood before the golden statue, and rolled the twelve-sided die:
Huh. Maybe the gods were good for something after all.
Thob could head almost straight west to reach Stoneclasped again, and find his way back to Dawngloves from there. But between him and the western mountains was the tower of Brightplums, citadel of the Plates of Scouring.
King Urvad had said he shouldn’t go there, but Thob felt confident after his exploits against the hyenas. He could at least scope the place out. But he would wait until dusk: he could see well in the dark, and any hostiles might be at a disadvantage.
The tower itself was a ways off, surrounded by a field of smaller outbuildings. Thob knew some of these structures might hold treasures: maybe Chieftess Onget had stored some artifacts in them? He snuck up to the nearest and peered inside:
The entrance was guarded by a terrifying beast: a six-legged feathery thing with two long horns. But it didn’t seem to notice Thob. Keeping himself pressed against the wall and taking small steps, he worked his way to the stairs across the room. And it worked—he climbed to the upper chamber.
There was indeed some treasure up here, but it looked to be mostly armor of a size too big for Thob. Still, he stepped over to take a closer look—and suddenly:
The whip flew out of the central pillar and caught Thob right in the solar plexus, punching the wind out of him. Dazed and gasping he retreated down the stairs and, cautiously, out of the building. Maybe the king was right—this place was too dangerous. He crept away, trying to get his breath back, towards a nearby stream, where he camped for the night.
With the dawn Thob was back on the road. The way back led near an old monastery in the desert, which Thob stopped by to check out. It was called “Moonpillars,” built for the Hateful Sect, a religion worshipping—who else?—Ôggon Bridemenace.
Thob looked in at the local shrine, a small structure named the “Temple of Tentacles.” An odd name for the temple of a lust goddess, he thought… until he saw the artwork:
Well, that was an image he’d not forget soon—however much he wanted to. Thob hurried on his way.
Midmorning came, and water began falling from the sky again. Thob was crossing a grassy plain, keeping to the sparse tree cover to stay reasonably dry, when a shriek brought him up short. He glanced around for the source—
One of those feathered things with branching antennae was bearing down on him! But this time Thob would not run: he steadied the hand on his pick and readied his buckler.
The demon swung a fist at him, but he caught it on the shield; in the same movement he struck the creature in the hollow of the knee. The force of his blow and the razor point of the steel pick sheared off its leg, and it fell; it grabbed for him but he dodged aside, planting the pick into its ribs; another strike punctured a lung. The beast gasped and lay still, but Thob’s weapon was already aloft again, and the plunging point smote through the creature’s skull.
Thob was victorious—but he didn’t feel like it. This wasn’t like the hyenas: they were animals, but this… despite its feathers and antennae, it was almost dwarf-like. They could think and speak like dwarves. True, it had attacked him first, but that didn’t change the fact that he had brought death to a sentient creature. It made him feel…
Thob drew quickly away from the grisly scene. He would not be the same dwarf when he returned to Dawngloves. He would be changed, somehow older—a hardened individual.
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Topic: Thob Goes to the Surface (Read 62242 times)