“Pluck the Flu!” You call out as you run through the library and out the door from whence Bergen came. A thick fog almost instantly rolls up and around you. You barely can see where it is you run. But you won’t look back, not now. In moments, you’ll have a rogue elf and a deranged author on your tail.
“Sounds like something out of a D&D game,” you mutter.
“Oh, but it is.”
This voice is new. This voice is ahead. This voice is… odd.
You stop running and slowly, the fog clears. You are standing just outside a ratty like village beside a giant forest… almost as creepy as the chest you saw.
“Where am I?” you ask the odd voice, expecting another one of Angela’s tricks.
“You are in the village N’Erd,” the odd voice explains. “Just outside of Ja’Kitch Wood.”
“And where are you,” you ask.
“Down here.”
You peer down at, what appears to be… a dwarf? Wearing a set of plate armor… on a goat. The goat is chewing on a mouthful of grass.
“What… the fu—?”
“I am Merlin!”
“Merlin.”
“Yes!” the tiny man exclaims.
“What is with the suit?”
“I am a knight! Destined to defeat all foes.”
“You’re a hobbit.”
“Halfling,” he corrects.
“With Don Quixote issues.”
“I most certainly do not.”
“You’re old,” you say.
“I may be a little on in my years—”
“You look like a bearded Bilbo.”
Merlin puffs out his little chest. “And nothing stopped him.”
“What are you?” You ask.
“I am Merlin the Halfling it is my que—”
A scream carries from a shabby cottage in the distance.
*gasp* Merlin gasps. “A quest!” And he’s off valiantly charging into battle on his little goat.
“Baaa.”
It’s too painful. You can’t watch. You follow Merlin knowing this can’t possibly end well.
“Calm yourself, Madam!” Merlin calls to a woman who emerges from the cottage.
“It’s there!” she screams. “A horrible horrible… a thing!” The woman points to the cottage door.
“Madam, I will right all wrongs and defeat all foes. Stand aside.” And stupidly, Merlin charges into the cottage upon his mighty goat. “Courageously,” mind you, but stupidly.
Crashing, cursing, and baa-ing emanates from the cottage. A moment later, Merlin is thrown from the cottage, armor and all. Seconds later, the goat trots to his master’s side.
“I can’t watch,” you announce. “Excuse me,” you say and valiantly, with far more caution than Merlin, you enter the cottage.
In the center of the cottage, a curious blue light hovers. What do you do?