//------------------------------// // Cutebold // Story: Ogres and Oubliettes: Roll The Dice // by Bucking Nonsense //------------------------------// Life stank for the kobolds, but it wasn't their fault: They didn't know better. Faithful Servant, devout cleric of Frith, looked upon his congregation with pride. Kobolds were often called stupid, weak, trash, less than trash, less than pond-scum, and even less than dung. They weren't even considered fodder by most adventurers, and it had been more than three centuries since any city had offered a bounty on them. Adventurers would exterminate them on sight, and think nothing of it. They existed to be destroyed, and nothing more. However, there was so much more than meets the eyes... A year ago, Faithful Servant had been part of a party of adventurers who had journeyed into the sewers, and then into the ruins that lay beneath the sewers, and then, upon finding a tunnel beyond a rickety bridge that led even further down, prepared to to go further than any pony had ever gone before. They were certain that they had found the entrance to an Oubliette, and believed that, if they ventured into its depths, they could find the source of the scores of monsters that threatened Spiketopia from underneath, and destroy it. Most oubliettes had ten floors. A few had twenty. This one had well over a hundred. It had taken days to traverse it... and had there been any monsters inside, it would have taken much, much longer. It was confusing: Monsters were well known to be found inside of an Oubliette, being the source of many of the foul fiends that plagued the world. The scores of monsters that infested the sewers, and the ruins that lay underneath, indicated that a truly prodigious Oubliette like this one had to be the source. But if that was so, then why was this Oubliette empty? When the party reached the chamber of the Oubliette's master, they found their answer... and it was one that would haunt Faithful Servant's nightmares for the rest of his life. The master of the Oubliette was an ogre, or something like one. And something was already in the process of killing it. A horde of giant rats were gnawing upon it, the creature's limbs and torso buried under what seemed like thousands of of the creatures, the beast powerless to do anything but wail as it was devoured alive. The room itself was carpeted with thousands more, seeming to be waiting their turn. And not far from the slowly dying ruler of the depths, stood something that would scare the brown earth pony to the point that his blonde hair went white. A group of massive rats stood, tails linked together, and as they watched, another added its tail to the knot that linked them. The legends were true. The Doom of Trottingham lurked in the depths, and its servants slowly feasted upon the flesh of an ogre. Had they silently fled, then perhaps they might have lived to report what they saw to the citizens of Spiketopia. However, somepony made a sound. Faithful was certain it wasn't him, but someone made the smallest squeak of fear, and then, thousands of furred faces turned, in unison, to stare at them. Had all of them not taken a few minutes previously to relieve themselves before entering the chamber, then they all might have suffered from such severe fear-induced explosive defecation that the ponies might have all detonated simultaneously in explosions of fear-dung. Thankfully, that did not happen, but they all screamed like little fillies before fleeing for their lives, the rats on their collective tails. The first to fall to the swarm was their magic user, who turned an launched a powerful fireball into the flood of rats behind them. The fireball struck home, and killed perhaps a dozen of the creatures... but there were thousands behind it, and their forward motion served only to propel those corpses forward at high speed, and when one of them was knocked onto the wizard's back as he turned to continue running, it slowed him long enough for the vermin-tide to catch up with him and overwhelm him. His dying scream was swallowed up by the sound of the approaching avalanche of rats. Whether he died instantly, crushed from the weight of so many rats, or died more slowly, eaten alive by the creatures, Faithful didn't like to consider, but regardless, his fate was sealed. The most heavily armored of their party, a pair of armored knights, died next, their armor preventing them from being able to run full speed long enough for them to be granted an opportunity to catch their breath. Their fate was more certain: They could not turn a corner fast enough, and the rats collided with them at full speed, like a battering ram made of flesh, fur, and hunger. The force of the thousands of rats that propelled the vanguard forward was sufficient to crush them both, crumpling their armor like tin foil, and the flesh beneath it fared no better. Their death was swift, at least... From there, it was difficult to say in which order Faithful's comrades died in: They were running for their lives through an extensive, one hundred floor labyrinth: While Servant had an exceptional memory and it allowed him to remember the correct path to the entrance, his allies did not possess the presence of mind to recall their exit path while running for their lives. They took a wrong turn, and Faithful never saw them again: Either the rats caught them, or they were lost in the depths of the Oubliette, doomed to wander its halls until either the rats caught them, or they died of thirst and starvation. One by one, his comrades either took a wrong turn, or tripped and fell, or didn't turn a corner fast enough, or one of a dozen other things that allowed the rodents to catch up with them. Regardless, death was death. It had taken the adventurers days to traverse the Oubliette, moving very slowly and cautiously, expecting enemies at every turn. It took Faithful Servant two hours to reach the entrance, running full speed. And when he did, he looked back long enough to see that he was, indeed, the only one left. As he turned back to continue speeding forward, he whispered a prayer to Frith to speed his hooves, to slow his foes, to do SOMETHING so that he could reach the surface and warn the ponies of Spiketopia of the horror that was nesting beneath the city. They might have days, or perhaps only hours, before the rats finished their feast, and began moving up towards the surface in search of food, much like poor Trottingham. He had been one of those to scorn the accounts of the city's downfall, believing such a thing was impossible. Here, with the reality of it breathing down his neck as he fled, he was eating the proverbial crow, and its taste was as bitter as he'd been told it would be. Faithful Servant did not know if Frith had answered his prayer, or if desperation lent the cleric the speed needed to reach his one hope of throwing off his pursuers, but he finally reached the place he hoped would grant him the opportunity to lose his pursuers: The old, crumbling stone bridge that marked the path to the Oubliette. The weight of the rats would cause the bridge to collapse, and by the time they found an alternate route (If any such route existed), Faithful could lose them in the ruins. Dodging monsters all the way to the surface would be difficult, but possible. But something happened when Faithful crossed the bridge that would shock and horrify him: As he reached the halfway point of the bridge, there was the sudden sound of a thousand clawed feet grinding to a halt at once. The rats stopped at the edge of the bridge, and the horde would advance no further. The legends were true: The King Of Rats was as intelligent as a pony, if not more so, and had complete command of its servants, even from this far away. They knew. They knew that the bridge would not support their weight, and would not advance en masse across it. But they had not given up the pursuit. As Faithful watched in disbelief, the rats made a hole in their horde to allow a dozen large, pony-sized rats, and one much larger, to advance to the front. A dozen dire rats, and a lord of the rats, were going to continue the hunt. And once they crossed, another squad could follow, and then another, until the horde of rats crossed the bridge safely. The bridge was a bottleneck, yes, but no matter how narrow it was, they could all still cross it, given enough time and patience. Faithful Servant had a choice: He could run, and try to escape his pursuers through the ruins, which was unlikely now, as the cleric was near-to-death from fatigue, or... Taking a deep breath, Faithful chose what any good servant of Frith should: He chose to stop the horde, here and now, even at the cost of his life. He began to chant the strongest prayer that he knew, outside of healing. It was a powerful prayer, and while it wasn't quite strong enough to defeat the squad of rodents that were approaching, it would be more than sufficient to destroy the bridge. When he reached to conclusion of the prayer, the rats were bare inches away... which meant that when the Holy Word of Frith erupted from Faithful's mouth, they took the full brunt of it to the face. The voice of Frith raged forth, shouting, "VALEO!!!" Begone. The force of Frith's Word was sufficient to set the bridge to crumbling, and before Faithful Servant could move, the floor gave way beneath him, and he plummeted into the depths. Everything went black... Faithful was surprised to awaken anywhere other than Elysium, and when he did, he found himself staring into the face of a kobold, laying upon a crude cot in a crude lean-to. It seemed that he'd survived the fall, and the kobolds had nursed him to health. Well, as best as they could, at least: The fall had crippled the cleric, beyond even the power of Frith's prayers to be able to heal completely. He'd never be able to run again, and could not even walk without a cane. There was no way he could reach the surface to warn the citizens of Spiketopia of the doom that waited beneath them... after all, if the rats' leaders were intelligent enough to be able to see that the bridge would collapse, then they could certainly work out a means of constructing a new bridge. It would take time. Perhaps years, even, but eventually, they'd work out a way across. However, Frith's followers were not known for wallowing in despair. Instead of focusing on his terrible state, he began doing what any cleric should do: He spread the word of Frith to anypony willing to listen. The word of Frith should not be allowed to die with ponykind, afer all. It had taken close to half a year for he and his new flock to reach the point where they could understand each other, but once that point was reached, the kobolds could understand the words of Faithful Servant, and more to the point, they could understand the Word of Frith. And surprisingly, they liked what they heard. Unlike many deities, Frith was neither narcissistic, one who excluded any from His grace, nor was He one to stand on ceremony. Frith's word was simple: Frith didn't want his followers to sit around begging him for stuff: "Oh Frith, I want money." "Oh Frith, I want power." "Oh Frith, I want to get it on with that fine mare across the street." Etc. Etc. Frith didn't raise a hoof to help anyone who asked, begged, or even demanded something that they would do nothing to work for, and had done nothing to deserve. Frith helped those who were helpless but had not given up hope, He helped those who helped others, and He helped those who were working hard to achieve the things that they wanted. And above all else, He helped those who sought to do good for the sake of goodness. He was the one who made sure that those who reached out to Him got, not what the asked for, or what they needed, but what they deserved. And if you did nothing to deserve what you asked for, then nothing was exactly what you got. Most importantly, Frith did not reward those who did good deeds solely for the sake of getting a reward. He did not grant the eternal bliss of Elysium to those who spent all their time on their knees, praying to Frith and accomplishing nothing else in their lives, or who did good deeds solely to curry favor with Himself or those around them. Instead, Frith rewarded those who did good deeds for the sake of doing good. Selfless acts of goodness were what pleased Frith, more than anything else. The kobolds grasped this with surprising speed: They understood well enough that there was no such thing as a free lunch, given how bad life was down in the deeps. The idea that there was someone or something out there that rewarded those who worked hard, or helped those who were no longer able to work hard due to the harshness of life, spoke to them. And the idea of a deity that cared not who you were, but rather what you did with your life, touched something, deep within their hearts. Kobolds were the ultimate exiles, but by Frith's word, their race didn't matter: Frith loved them regardless. The kobolds took to their study of Frith's word with a will. Within three moons, the kobolds could recite the word of Frith, front to back, from memory. Of course, Frith's book was pretty short, but it was still impressive, given that the Kobolds couldn't read, and could only listen to Faithful's recitation of it. That was nowhere near as startling, however, as when one of the kobolds performed a miracle of Frith. Her name, loosely translated, was Spinel, although a more accurate translation was Balas Ruby, or just Ruby, as Faithful took to calling her. Ruby was a female of the species, and close to becoming 'of age' amongst kobolds. Kobolds were lizard-like creatures, but while the males tended to have a slightly rougher appearance, with small crests and ridges along their bodies, females tended to have scaled skins as smooth as a serpent, and Ruby's scales were the color of her namesake. Ruby had once witnessed Faithful perform a healing on one of the kobolds when he was injured, and had successfully memorized the words to the prayer. So, when another kobold had been similarly injured, she had knelt down, recited the prayer and... Frith heard it, and answered. That was when Faithful Servant had an idea. It was a lot to ask of such a small creature, but Spiketopia had to be warned... And so, he spent two moons preparing Ruby for a holy pilgrimage to the surface. The journey would be dangerous, no doubt. However, the young kobold learned quickly, and within a short time, she was more than ready: Through the strength of her faith, and her dedication to her lessons, she acquired a level of understanding of Frith's word sufficient to rival Faithful's own, and the power to perform miracles equal to his. If she were to progress further, it would require instruction from a cleric of a higher caliber than himself, or divine intervention from Frith Himself. And now was the faithful day: The day when his best student would venture forth, the future of ponykind riding on her young shoulders. The road would be long, but Ruby had faith, and so did Faithful Servant. He had faith that she would make it. But what worried him was what would happen to her when she reached the Adventurer's Guild to present the letter he was sending with her... ------------------------------------------- Two weeks later... "Funnily enough," the armored giant in the guild hall continued, his voice, while not loud, carried through the entire room, and more than a few adventurers were listening to his tale with interest, "the Ent saw the wargs and worgs as a much bigger threat than I. In fact, it didn't see me at all, at first: It's eyes were much higher up on the trunk than I would have expected, and when it stood, I was certainly completely out of view, so it went to wiping out its lupine targets with a will. Monsters of wood are much sturdier than creatures of the flesh, and this ent was quite large for its kind, so the fact that it was greatly outnumbered meant nothing to it, and it walked through the wargs and worgs as easily as I might walk through a field of daisies. And wouldn't you know it, the smell of all the blood and carnage drew the very ghouls I was hunting to the battle, and they set about trying to pick a fight with the ent as well. Within fifteen minutes, the wargs, the worgs, and the ghouls were all vanquished, and the Ent was exhausted. Of course, it had been woken up from its hibernation, so it wasn't in full fighting form, but I hope I don't sound too proud when I say that, even at its best, it wouldn't have fared much better against me: I keep a couple of ignition charms, that can imbue my sword with the power of fire, for those times when you face a monster that is vulnerable to fire, or regenerates when it isn't burning. A few quick chops at the roots, and all that was left was to shout 'Timber!' as the Ent fell, and then I finished it before it could rise. From there, I got to work with burning the bodies of my foes, save for the trophies I'd need to claim the bounty." With a chuckle, he added, "I felt a little guilty, taking the credit for the kills, since it was the Ent who did the majority of the work, but when I told the Guildmaster the tale, he said that the beasts would never have crossed the Ent in the first place had I not been there. Besides, an Ent is a far more dangerous foe than ghouls, wargs, and worgs put together, as the Ent had just finished proving during that adventure. However, that was the last time I tried to adventure solo: Having boon companions at your back is always far better than a thick tree, especially if it turns out that the tree is even more dangerous than the beasts you're fighting." That got a few laughs, and nods from the more veteran adventurers in the guild hall. Ruby gulped, hoping that she'd be able to present her letter to someone, before someone like that towering creature got its sword out and bisected her. She gathered her courage and wits together, and whispered a prayer to Frith. This was the most dangerous part of her pilgrimage: Faithful Servant had told her that, to most adventurers, kobolds were pests to be killed on sight. Thus, she might end up presenting the letter, and be killed before, or perhaps even after, it had been read. However, Frith walked with her, and if she died trying to fulfil the goal of her holy pilgrimage, then at least she could rest easy knowing that Frith would not abandon her. She adjusted her robes, bleached white and still moderately clean even after the trek through the sewers, made sure her amulet of Frith's bright and holy sun was clear upon her chest, and climbed up atop the table she'd spent half the day hiding under, having snuck in and hidden under the tablecloth before anypony had come in. This was it, the moment of truth. She cleared her throat, and asked, somewhat meekly, "Um... hello. May I have everyone's attention, please?" Dozens of heads turned to look at her, each adventurer possessing more than enough weaponry, magical might, or divine favor to wipe out her entire village in minutes. Ruby struggled to say the next part of her prepared speech, holding out the Faithful Servant's scroll in front of her. Before she could say a word, a unicorn mare with a black coat and a silver mane squee'd, "OH MY GOSH, SHE'S ADORABLE!!!" That reaction was not in any of the possible scenarios that Faithful Servant had prepared Ruby for...