Questlog: Into the Giga Dungeon™—Finale

Need to catch up? Read ye Part I, & Part II, & Part III!

Down, down, down I journeyed—for hours? Days? Time lost meaning in this GIGA DUNGEON™—as it has for so many who labor here. Labored? Will labor? How many would consign themselves to this gray Hell, willingly, if not for want of money? Risking life & limb, breathing poison & dumping it into their own rivers; what other than DESPERATION could draw one here? These questions & others I pondered, as I wandered ashen halls & hollows—I became lost, & lost myself. What had drawn me here?

In circles I drifted, looping up & down the GIGA DUNGEON™, hiking a pointless path across a constrained cosmos. After a thousand thousand steps, I found myself in a familiar corner: the bone-crossed cage of the NLRB INSPECTOR. Horror shook me from my trance, rage boiling my blood & cooking off the pallid porridge that drowned my thoughts! FOR THE HUSKS, I HAD COME, & TO THE HUSKS, I MUST GO!

My mindless looping roving was not for naught; I had seen the FACTORY FLOOR, glimpsed its sterile wombs! My feet knew their weary way back into the depths—I am a stubborn sorcerer, insistent on deriving something useful out of even the worst days. Sometimes, ‘tis a delusion; sometimes I merely imagine powerful lessons to give some meaning to my suffering. But this day, ‘twould yield VICTORY.

Wand in hand, I storm through the arch—no door needed here, for no mortals work down here. Robots making Husks, unlife assembling anti-life until the stars grow cold & none but Husks remain. TO WHAT END? None I encountered above knew, or perhaps they had long forgotten. Why the Husks hunted us, what drove them to replace the giants, I cannot yet know. No answers lie before me—only a choice. Do I leave these machines whirring, churning metal into monsters? Or take on the mantle of DESTRUCTOR? I abhor death, but can something die that were never alive?

NAY. This gruesome factory mocks the very CONCEPT of being! The Husks have no souls, no minds, merely wafers executing strange commands from their strange god, ELON MUSK HIMSELF. Obliterating this hive will not stop him—will not mend the broken world that birthed him—but it will hinder his plans, dent his impunity. If I slow him, he shall be easier to stop, & every billionaire MUST BE STOPPED. I search my pouches, find the beholder-jerky I stashed from an employee canteen. The perfect reagent for General Ludd’s Sabo-Blast! I speak the words, & call forth sickly red beams; Husks melt beneath my fury, silently, as ingots in the forge. I find a terribly convenient panel, with a lone query: Oblivion?

And I choose.

I haul the Husk-slag up with me as I escape; I hand hunks to the workers, coming now out of their dazes. The ores & alloys, resold, could buy them each a handsome home, & relieve them of their desperation. What a cruelty ‘twas to forge them into Husks! As I step back into the cold Sun, though, I struggle for a sense of success. Many such GIGA DUNGEONS™ blight this world, chewing up souls & spitting out junk. The Husks will hunt us again, & I still will not know why…

…so tonight, I shall rest. Reflect. & plan my next quest. No peace until all know peace—& I pray that peace will come before oblivion is all that remains.

HERE ENDETH THIS ADVENTURE. MORE TO COME…

Have ye enjoyed this tale? I hope ye have, & will tell a friend! Next Monday, SUMMERSBANE begins a serial of his own, of a harrowing quest for a secret SOUL-STONE. Wednesday I shall send word of this week’s show, plus a bit of art—but for now…

Snow Moon Musings

The Moon has many names—some only for one night a year. A few modern mortals find this silly, What’s the difference?, they bleat. But why should she not have as many names as she has faces? She dances faster than the Earth, all across the sky, & ye would try to contain her to just one name? She has so many, more than any mortal remembers, one for each drop of Moonlight that reaches these desperate shores. The next time ye gaze upon her in the dark, try giving her a new name, one that fits thy feelings in that frozen moment. On Saturday, she wore “Snow,” but tonight—whatever strikes thy soul.

Thank ye, so kindly, for reading my many words. Thank ye for journeying with me down into the GIGA DUNGEON™, I am relieved we made it out alive! If ye enjoy the art & our words, please consider supporting our work for $5 monthly! ‘Tis, I believe, the best entertainment bargain left on Earth. Please also consider referring a friend, to grow our coven—ENOUGH HAWKING. I hope ye have a wonderful week; I will write ye again come Wednesday. Say “GREETINGS” to the Mahina for me when ye see her…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Moonman