“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

The Warrior of Wubstep’s question fell upon selectively-deaf ears as he stumbled through the forest with his preoccupied partner. Dumbledalf the Disappointing had his nose smack dab in the middle of his brand new Wubtendo BS, a handheld video game console and his most-recent obsession. Electronic sound effects echoed through the darkness; bit-crushed bleeps and bloops that were rapidly pushing the warrior towards his breaking point. On any other night the silent treatment would be a welcome change, but considering the circumstances - namely the horde of goo-covered goons still hot on their trail - some guidance would certainly be appreciated.

Dumbledalf had been silent for the better part of an hour, only stopping for a quick bathroom break behind an unlucky tree (and no, he didn’t pause the game, let alone put it down). The grumpy wizard hadn’t spoken once, aside from muttering the occasional curse word. While the warrior was fairly certain they were aimed at the video game, Dumbledalf did have a noticeable habit of looking in his direction each time he fired off a tirade of expletives.

“...nearly there, nearly there” mumbled Dumbledalf, interrupting the warrior’s train of thought. “Come on, just a bit more!”

Eager for the night to come to a close, the exhausted hero jumped on his chance to pry info from the absent-minded magician. “So, we’re close to...well, wherever it is we’re going?” he asked, all too hopeful.

“...just three more…nearly there…just three more”

“Wait, three what, exactly?” demanded the warrior, suddenly very skeptical.

“...three more levels until I upgrade to the electric horns of doom, then I’ll respec and show that damn Cybersaurus Rex who the real boss is as I blast his face off. ROUND TWO, YOU CRETACEOUS PIECE OF CRAP. KEE-YAAAAA!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” sighed the warrior, as his frustrating friend rambled on. Belligerently dragging his feet, he continued to trudge along behind Dumbledalf. It was going to be a very long night.

***

The morning sun greeted the two travelers as they stumbled out of the forest, many miles from where their journey had begun. The foliage at their feet had given way to moss-covered rocks and the peculiar pair found themselves perched on the edge of a jagged cliff, overlooking a vast, rushing river. The water stretched on for miles, with no way across aside from a tattered, old rope some considerate soul had tied to a nearby boulder many moons ago.

“Don’t worry, we’re nearly there” said Dumbledalf, his attention still entirely focused on defeating dastardly, digital dinosaurs.

“And this is the only way to get wherever there is?” demanded the warrior, beckoning at the frayed rope. He glanced in Dumbledalf’s direction anticipating an answer, but the wizard was already halfway across the river, the Wubtendo BS still inches from his face. He nimbly made his way forward, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous rapids racing below. For such a withered, old man, it was quite the impressive feat.

Gulping in fear, the Warrior of Wubstep approached the edge of the cliff and gingerly placed one foot on the threadbare rope. “Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot…you can do this, you’ve got this” he reassured himself, slowly inching forward. The worn-out material groaned under the additional weight, but miraculously it held firm.

Without warning, a monstrous head burst from below the surface of the river shooting torrents of water every which way. The beast’s flesh was a sickly green color, and as it breached the surface its mouth opened wide, revealing row upon row of serrated teeth. Trembling, twisted tentacles jutted out from the creature’s body, each one seeming to have a mind of its own as they probed the river in search of food.

“Oh god…don’t look down, don’t look down…” panted the warrior, doing his best to stay calm and safely reach the other side. Permanently soaked by the spray from the river, the rope was incredibly slippery, only allowing for painstakingly slow progress to be made. Ignoring his own advice, the terrified hero found himself unable to look away from the water. To his horror, it seemed he was just in time for a sea monster family reunion; dozens more aquatic atrocities began to appear, circling in the river below.

“Oh GREAT,” he exclaimed loudly. “Because one deadly water monster wasn’t quite terrifying enou--”

A bone chilling wail erupted from underneath the warrior, abruptly cutting him off mid-sentence. Finally taking notice of the easy prey dangling above their heads, two of the monsters had turned their attention upwards, and their tentacles were racing towards the unfortunately-positioned warrior. Before he had a chance to react, one feeler wrapped itself around the hero’s leg while a second latched onto his arm. The tentacles began to constrict, locking him tightly in place.

With his one free arm, the warrior drew his blade from its scabbard. He frantically ducked as a third tentacle swiped viciously at his head, then countered the blow with a valiant swing of his sword. Slicing through both tentacles with one fell swoop, he freed himself from the creature’s bonds. A foul-smelling liquid spurted forcefully out of the severed limbs, covering the already-wet rope in a layer of hazardously slippery hemoglobin. The momentum of his attack knocked the warrior off balance, and he desperately grabbed onto the makeshift bridge to steady himself.

Enraged by the sudden pain, the basin-dwelling behemoth furiously lashed out with its remaining tentacles. Narrowly missing their target, the force of the blow landed on the frayed, old rope instead, splitting it in half. As he felt the support of the bridge give way, the warrior tightened his grip and held on for dear life, sailing through the air as he swung across the remainder of the river.

***

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

*CRASH*

“About time, what took you so long?” demanded Dumbledalf, glaring at the worn-out warrior laying spread-eagle on the ground before him. “Good thing ol’ barky boy was here to help slow down your great escape” he snickered, affectionately patting the tree that the warrior had just crashed into. Groaning in pain, the Warrior of Wubstep rolled over onto his back, the tattered rope still clutched tightly in his hands.

Casually lighting his pipe, the wizard prodded his fallen ally with his foot. “Pfft, and you want to be called a hero, hey? We haven’t even gotten to the Lake of Lava yet”

“…hold on, lake of WHAT?”

TO BE CONTINUED…