Re: Dragonize update - chapter 40 and 41

Two new chapters are now available for Gallant-tier patrons! As usual, you can access them in the folder here:

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/ykimenyvbkx8brv/AAAzYM01DdnyYlhlNqToYZNKa?dl=0

Additionally, based on the results of yesterday's poll, I've changed the name of "Shimmerwood" back to "Shimmergrove."  I've uploaded a new version of chapter 39 to reflect this (no other changes to the chapter, apart from fixing a few small spelling mistakes)

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Chapter 40 - Into the Shimmergrove
As Octavia lowered me toward the trees, I scanned their twisted branches, looking for some kind of fruit. Finding the fruit should have been easy, considering that the trunks of the tallest trees were curved so much that they were practically horizontal at their top, with branches coiling toward the glowstone wall. Their leaves pointed toward the walls in a seemingly desperate attempt to absorb whatever light they needed for photosynthesis. I searched the branches, looking for something resembling the fruit that Octavia had showed me from her first dip down.

It wasn't until I was several feet from the highest branches that I could see tiny little berries, each barely more than half an inch in diameter, with most of them even smaller than that. They looked yellow, but with the shape and texture of blueberries. Clearly some kind of fruit, but somehow, I got the feeling that it wasn't the kind that Octavia had in mind: if this had been what she was looking for, she could have plucked these berries with little effort, as there weren't any bugs up here, and the fruits that she'd come up with were considerably bigger than these.

My descent halted, and I glanced up toward Octavia, seeing what looked like another wave of one of her legs. She was, apparently, giving me another pause to scope out the situation before I proceeded further, and I did exactly that, directing my attention to the layers below the upper canopy. In fact, it could scarcely be considered a canopy; observing everything from up here was shockingly easy when none of the trees seemed particularly interested in blocking out the sight of anyone overhead — thick foliage only made sense when there was light to collect, and all of the light was concentrated on the lower levels. The ground was where I focused my attention, looking for places where the ground cover was thin enough for the glowstone's illumination to shine through. It was there on the ground that I spotted the largest pieces of fruit. Of course. Back on earth, trees produced large fleshy fruits, while berries tended to grow on shrubs. In an ecosystem where the light came from the ground instead of the sky, things were inverted: the plants with the thickest leaves and the fleshiest fruits were also closest to the ground.

I watched as four armored ants cooperatively hefted what looked like a giant melon-sized fruit. Without the armored ants for scale, I might have mistaken it for an orange based on its color and spherical shape, but it was the size of a large watermelon — little wonder, then, that it took more than one armored ant to wrest it away from the vine that it grew on. The ants began marching away with it, and I started to wonder how any fruit could possibly be remaining for us to find, given that there were so many insects to abscond with it.

My question was answered a moment later when a centipede, several feet in length, scuttled out of a bush and sank its two front claws into one of the ants. The fruit dropped to the ground and rolled a short distance as the other ants fled. This was the nature of any ecosystem: the presence of plant life brought herbivorous (or omnivorous) creatures, and the presence of smaller critters brought larger carnivorous predators. The captured ant struggled, then its struggle slowed, and finally stopped, without any further action from the centipede. Some kind of venomous attack, perhaps? Within seconds, the armored ant had been completely subdued, cracking open in the same way that dead armored ants so often did as the centipede sunk its massive mandibles into the ant.

Centipedes are not to be trifled with. Noted. Perhaps most notable was the effort with which the centipede had managed to crack the armored ant open, a task that my own claws hadn't managed. If a centipede could crack an armored exoskeleton with that level of ease, how would my scales fare against it? Best not to find out.

I scanned around for anything that might look like a possible source of danger. With the coast seeming clear, I flicked the line twice, signaling for Octavia to continue lowering me. I eyed the giant fruit that the two ants had dropped. It was too far away for me to reach it unless I did some walking after hitting the ground. I decided to ignore it for now: Octavia had sent me here as an exterminator, not to pick up an item for delivery. If I did manage to bring back any fruit with me, that would be a nice bonus, but not essential: Octavia herself would probably do a better job of harvesting fruit, and in addition to the advantage of experience (and knowing exactly what she was looking for), she also had the advantage of extra limbs.

Bearing in mind that my job first and foremost was to serve as an exterminator, I gave the line two more flicks. For a moment, I debated whether to drop all the way down to the ground, but that could potentially introduce all sorts of complications: my method of communicating with Octavia that I was ready to extract relied on the line being taut, and if I dropped to the ground and started walking around, there were all sorts of risks if the line snagged or caught on something. Better to remain aloft. I kept signaling for more slack for Octavia, as she dropped me down in increments of two to three feet at a time, until I was hovering just over the plants that covered the ground.

The plants that covered the ground weren't exactly, but there was something fern-like about many of the massive blade-like leaves that covered the ground, trying to absorb as much of the light from the ground as they could. Now that I was closer, I could see that the ground wasn't entirely glowstone; much of it seemed to be ground of a clay-like texture, studded with glowstone throughout. There were some smaller shards of glowstone embedded in the ground, but much of the exposed glowstone came in the form of massive rocks that were as much as four feet across, and who knew how many more feet deep in the ground. Everywhere the glowstone shone, plants reached out, trying to cover it, while critters scurried above, casting inverted shadows upward, their silhouettes looking eerie against the glow.

I watched as a troop of armored ants skittered by, carrying fruits of various sizes. Rival gatherers. I exhaled [paralyzing breath], followed by a round of [poison breath].

[SP: 12/16]

The insects quickly scattered, as more than a dozen ants, several centipedes, and several beetles I didn't recognize sprang from the foliage and scurried to escape the radius of my breath attack. I was somewhat annoyed by the fact that my "paralyzing breath" took so long to take effect that it wouldn't immobilize a creature whose movement wasn't already constrained in some way.

[Stick bug defeated! 2% exp toward next level]

[Stick bug defeated! 2% exp toward next level]

[Stick bug defeated! 2% exp toward next level]

Apparently, there were "stick bugs" here — they were likely the only ones who hadn't fled my breath attack, being less nimble than the other insects, instead relying on their camouflage to survive. Unfortunately for them, "hiding" wasn't a very effective strategy against an indiscriminate breath attack: they had done such a good job of blending in with the plants that I hadn't even noticed them, but they were dead all the same.

I spotted a small piece of fruit below me – not nearly the size of the giant melon-sized fruit I'd spotted before, but better than nothing, apparently dropped by one of the critters that had fled my breath attack. I gave the line two quick flicks to request more slack, figuring that now was as good a time as any to retrieve it, and as soon as I was close enough, I speared the fruit two of my claws before flicking the line to indicate that I was ready for extraction. A moment later, I felt a tug, and Octavia pulled me upward.

It took several minutes for me to make it all the way to the cliff overhang where Octavia was waiting for me. She looked at me expectantly. "Well? How did it go?"

"Not so well," I said. "The critters were all quick to flee, with the exception of a few unlucky stick bugs."

"Hmm." She seemed surprised by that.

"It's not like fumigating an ant nest," I said. "The ant colony probably has tight tunnels. But this is a big, wide-open cavern. There's so much space that it's almost like being outside: the critters can flee without any major obstacles, and the gas is diffuse enough that it just spreads in all directions and dissipates pretty quickly."

"That is unfortunate," she said. "But at least you cleared the area, right?"

"I mean, I did get this," I said, dropping the apple-sized fruit in front of her. "But if you go down now, it wouldn't surprise me if the poison is completely dissipated."

"Yes," she said. "That was the idea. I don't want there to be any of your breath attack lingering there when I go down to pick fruit."

"But by the time you get back down there, the critters might already have returned," I said.

"It's still worth checking," she said.

"It is," I said. "I just wanted to calibrate your expectations."

"Consider them calibrated," she said, and she lowered herself off the edge.

It took several minutes for her to get to the bottom, and several minutes after that for her to return.

"Any luck?" I asked.

She let out an exasperated chitter. "No different from when I went down last."

"That's unfortunate," I said. "I was able to clear them out for a short time period, but…"

"Apparently, it wasn't long enough," she finished.

"How long do you think you'd need?" I asked. "Like, would a few minutes be enough?"

She gave the question some thought. "Probably?"

"Okay, time to brainstorm," I said. "New plan. Let's go down together."
---
Chapter 41 - Fruit Frenzy
"An interesting suggestion," said Octavia, sounding more skeptical than curious. "How exactly would both of us enter the Shimmergrove together?"

"Your spider threads are strong enough that you could carry me while lowering yourself," I said. "If I recall correctly, you did exactly that within a minute of seeing me for the first time."

"I did," she said. "And I could do it again. This would be going a lot further, but I could do it. But I can't be near you when you're using that breath attack. Or, at least, I don't want to be nearby, even if it's just the paralyzing attack. That's why I wanted to send you ahead."

"You don't have to be that close," I said. "We're underground, but this place might as well be outdoors for how much open space there is. You can hang out at the top of a tree, or retreat some distance away. Or drop me off, then go up as high as you need to be outside of the attack radius. I'll clear out the area, gather as much fruit as I can, then when the gas dissipates, you can scoop it up and we'll both be out of there before the bugs work up the courage to encroach on what I've found."

Octavia pondered it, and I could see her pantomiming something out with one of her legs, as if she was trying to sketch the scene out in her mind. "Okay," she finally said. "I think that's a good idea. A great idea, even."

She spent the next several minutes creating another tether and testing it to make sure it could safely hold both our weights. Once she was confident in her setup, she quickly assembled a web sling to hold me (thankfully consisting of mostly non-sticky thread), and we began the descent.

"Is it just me, or are we going even slower than last time?" I asked.

"We are," she said. "You're heavy, so I'm trying to be careful with how fast we move down."

"If I'm heavy, then so are you," I said in a tone that I hoped came across as joking.

"Yes, we're heavy," she said. "I'm several hundred pounds, and you're even heavier than I am. More fleshy parts."

"Yeah," I said. "I think my bones are also probably denser than whatever chitin it is that makes up your exoskeleton. I assume you don't have an internal skeleton."

She pondered that for a moment. "Yes, I think you're right. I don't have a skeleton inside of me. That's…weird to think about. And to think that as a human child, I was more bothered to learn that did have a skeleton inside of me."

The next several minutes passed in silence. Any anxiety I might have felt about what we had prepared was almost entirely replaced with boredom by now. I broke the silence by asking, "Is there a reason we couldn't have repelled down separately? Would that have been faster?"

"You didn't repel," she said. "You had a thread tied around you, and I lowered you by feeding you thread. Very different. I was the one doing all the work. And when I lowered myself, I was also doing all the work. I can't do both those jobs at the same time. We can only have a single tether running at once."

"Yeah, you're right," I said, now feeling dumb for having suggested the idea.

We finally got to the tops of some of the taller trees, and Octavia came to a stop. "Can I drop you onto this tree?" she asked.

"Are you sure the branches will hold my weight?" I asked. "After all, I am heavy."

"They can hold my weight easily," she said. "And if they can't, there's not very far to fall."

I looked at the branches, considering their thickness, then considered the distance I'd fall if one of them happened to snap, trying to judge the amount of fall damage I might take. If it did, I'd probably hit several other branches along the way, which would probably be less comfortable but also slow my fall considerably. "Okay," I said. "If I'm going to try this experiment, I may as well try it when you'll be right above, ready to scoop me out of danger if anything goes wrong."

Octavia set me down gingerly on the tree. I slipped and I briefly felt the sensation of falling as my hind legs failed to find purchase, but I was able to hold onto the branch with my foreclaws, and with a bit of struggle, I managed to sink my hind legs into the tree's trunk.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," I said. "Not a weight problem, just a balance problem." It was surprising that the tree held my weight so well: the trunk was less than two feet in diameter, but it seemed able to support me just fine, provided I knew where to grip it. I looked up at Octavia and spoke again. "I don't really have much tree-climbing experience in this body. It's kind of a different skill from rock climbing, but I think I'll manage." I experimented by swinging my lower legs, and caught one of the lower branches. I tested the sureness of my lower grip, then released my foreclaw grip on the top branch to swing down a level.

"Wait," she said. "Hold on a moment."

I looked up, and watched as Octavia spun another sling, similar to the one that had held me.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"The fruit," she said. "I'll be carrying two bundles back up with me, one with you, and one with whatever fruit you procure."

"Ah, yeah," I said. "A grocery tote. Easier to carry everything back home when you don't have to carry each item separately, even if you do have eight appendages."

"Right," she said.

As she worked, I looked down at the ground below us, scoping things out to see if there were any spots that seemed particularly fruit-rich. I saw two armored ants carrying the same large fruit I had seen earlier — in fact, it might have even been the same fruit (though a different pair of ants, considering that one of them had been ruthlessly gored by some kind of centipede creature). The bright orange color of the fruit made it impossible to miss. Octavia seemed to see it too. "That would be ideal," she said, pointing. "The melons. They grow on the rockroot vines. See those?" She pointed at some vines that looked like ivy covering one of the larger pieces of glowstone. "If you can bring me several of those, I'll be very happy."

"Noted," I said. "Shall I be off, then?"

"Yes," she said. "Go and do your thing. I'll stay up here. If you can just roll the fruit over to the base of the tree, I can handle the rest."

"Got it," I said. I lowered myself to the next branch down, then repeated the maneuver several times, relying mostly on my tail's sense of touch to judge the distance to the next branch each time. I landed on the ground, and looked for the vines that Octavia had pointed out.

As I walked, I constantly found myself pushing foliage aside, and several times discovered ants that didn't start moving until I was practically on top of them. The first several I ran across in this manner, I tried swiping at, but after several "tings" of my claw bouncing off their exoskeleton, I gave up, and was content to let them run away.

After walking a short distance, I saw a vine with four of the massive rockroot melons — and then I saw the swarming mass of centipedes lying around it. At first, I thought it was just one long coiled insects, but after several minutes, I could make out the heads of at least three individual centipedes. I wasn't sure whether that was more or less threatening. Would you rather face one giant centipede, or many smaller centipedes? Not like I have a choice in the matter. They were all coiled in what I'm sure they thought was an inconspicuous position. Typical ambush predator behavior: find the herbivore's food source, then use it as bait to lure prey in.

For a moment, I considered engaging the centipedes in a 'fair fight' of tooth and claw, but then my mind went back to the armored ant, and the ease with which a centipede had been able to pierce it. Better to stick to what I was naturally good at. I exhaled [noxious breath], and watched the centipedes writhe for a moment before fleeing. I pounced toward one, but it easily evaded me, leaving me alone inside my gas cloud, alone with the three giant melons.

[SP: 11/16]

[Stick bug defeated! 2% exp toward next level]

[Stick bug defeated! 2% exp toward next level]

More lucky collateral. Odd that even as they died, I still couldn't see them. Camouflaged, even in death.

My first thought had been to drag the vine that the melons were attached to, but I wasn't prepared for the weight of them: each of them probably weighed around 100 pounds, and I found that I had a much easier time cutting them free with my teeth and rolling them, two at a time. I delivered the first two to Octavia, then went back for the next two. By the time I returned the [noxious breath] cloud had dissipated so I unleashed another gas cloud, as the centipedes were starting to approach again — their movements were cautious, but they were getting too close for my comfort.

[SP: 10/16]

Less than a minute later, I returned to Octavia, who had already finished bundling up the other two melons.

"Is this a good haul for one day?"

"It's good, yes," she said. "Are you going back for the last one?"

I glanced behind me. "Did I miss a melon?"

"Yes, you did," she said. "I was watching from the treeline. It's behind some leaves, but it's definitely there."

"Alright," I said. If I could make two trips to the vine, then I could make a third. By the time I arrived, the centipedes hadn't reconverged — maybe they were twice bitten, once shy? I grabbed the final melon and began rolling it back to Octavia.

Since I only had one melon to roll back this time, I tried pushing it faster this time – instead of keeping a claw on it at all times, I shoved it as hard as I could, then chased after it, throwing part of my weight into it when I caught up to it – a bit like dribbling a soccer ball, following the ball rather than constantly maintaining control of it. The melon's almost-spherical shape made that easy, up until the moment that it hit a bit of extruded rock and bounced off the path I was taking.

I chased after the melon, following it down a shallow embankment, relieved to see that it had only dropped a few feet before landing. I watched as a group of armored ants moved from the spot where it had landed. For a moment, I was worried that the ants might try to fight me for custody of the melon, but they all fled as soon as I approached. The ground here was wetter and softer, which had caused the melon to leave a sizable dent in the ground upon landing, but I was relieved to discover that it hadn't become stuck in the mud. With a bit of effort, I was able to push the melon back up the embankment. The pushing was easy, but as I rolled the melon uphill, I saw that there was a chunk of glowstone embedded in its rind: apparently, it had landed on a shard of the glowing rock when it took its tumble. The shard was pretty firmly wedged into the melon, but it didn't seem to interfere with its ability to roll, so I decided to leave it in, not sure removing it would make things work. What was it they always said? If you get stabbed, don't remove the knife unless you're ready to start bleeding everywhere. Perhaps the same was true of melons and the juice that they held.

Once I had rolled the melon out of the ditch, I resumed my course, this time proceeding with greater caution as I had with the melons before. Fortunately, no insects came to assault me as I rolled it, which almost had me wondering if perhaps the threat that the Shimmergrove posed had been exaggerated in my mind. Several minutes later, I arrived at the tree where Octavia was waiting for me, sitting atop the highest branches. She gave me a wave as I arrived.

She had left a sticky-web sling at the bottom for me to roll the melon into, which I did. She began hoisting the melon up. As she worked, she spoke to me in a tone that sounded like a mixture of scolding and concern. "That last melon took you awhile."

I looked up at her. "I was in a hurry. Can we go now?"

"You were in a hurry, so it took you longer?"

"Yes, I tried taking shortcuts, it backfired, I can tell you the story later. Shall we be on our way now?"

Octavia inspected the fruit, turning it over. "The rind is damaged."

"Yes, mistakes were made," I said. "Mostly by me. Entirely by me, in fact. Is it a problem?"

"I suppose not," she said, prying out the glowstone that was wedged into the melon. She tossed it aside. "The smell might attract more critters, but we're already on our way."

"Music to my ears," I said. "Let's go."

She lowered another sling for me — this time offering one of the non-sticky variety, likely the same one I had ridden down in. I stepped into the sling, and waited for her to start lifting. Several seconds passed as I waited for the sling to move. I felt a slight nudge, then nothing.

"Ready when you are," I said, glancing upward.

"Hold on a moment," she said. Several more seconds passed. I felt a slight tug, then nothing. "Do we have a problem?" I asked.

"You're heavy," she said.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure we established that earlier," I said.

"So are the melons," she said. "Having five melons is like having an additional Drew to carry. That's more than I can handle."

"Okay," I said. "How many melons can we take up with us?"

"Two, maybe? Making three or more trips would be very time-consuming," she said. "And I would worry that the melons wouldn't be waiting for us when I got back."

"Do you want me to stay and guard the melons?" I asked.

"No need to leave them for you to guard," she said. "If you can guard yourself, then I can take up all the melons. Then I can come back for you."

I hesitated. "Should I be worried?"

"I won't be more than a few minutes away," said Octavia. "If things go well, then it will take me a while to get all of the melons up there. But if things go badly down here, I can drop the melons and come down quickly to assist you. I'll keep an eye on you."

"Okay," I said. "We've come this far. I've already survived at least ten minutes down here, and not so much as a scratch to show for it. I can survive another ten or fifteen minutes waiting for you to deliver the goods."

"Wonderful," she said. "Like I said, I'll keep an eye on you."

"Don't come down unless it looks like I really need it," I said. "After going to the effort of rolling all those things, I don't want you dropping all the melons and erasing all our progress unless my life is in serious danger. I think I can fend pretty well against whatever's down here."

"Understood," she said. With that, she began her slow ascent upwards.

I decided to do the same, and began ascending the tree, though my method involved relying on my own muscle. Before long, I too was perched on the top of the tree, awaiting Octavia's return, now feeling silly for having worried about being left alone here: while the floor of the Shimmergrove was filled with plenty of insects, the branches up here had nothing going on. I noticed a clump of centipedes, and watched with detached disinterest. They scuttled over to the vine where I had retrieved the melons from, then began heading elsewhere. To pass the time, I studied the centipedes, trying to see how many individual ones I could pick out from among their writhing mass. I lost count after four — they were moving so much that past a certain point, it was hard to tell whether I was seeing a new centipede, or a different one, especially with how violently and randomly they seemed to be scuttling. They could scuttle all they wanted; I was perfectly content to watch from my perch above.

I watched with fascination as the centipedes seemed to follow the same path I had rolled the melons down, and I realized that the ground, while relatively hard and thick with glowstone, also had large patches of soft dirt where the melons I'd rolled had left dents — no doubt the centipedes were fascinated by the change I had introduced to the landscape in the process of removing their melons. Their scuttling finally led them to the base of the tree I was perched in, and I watched in amusement as they circled the tree trunk, each centipede following the tail of the one before it, as if they collectively summed up to a dog chasing its own tail.

Then, they stopped running in circles, and approached the tree trunk. A moment later, my breath caught in my throat as my amusement was replaced by a different emotion as I watched the centipedes approach the tree. At first, I thought they would attempt to climb it, but then I saw that they were doing something else entirely. The centipedes' mandibles – the same sort of mandibles that I'd seen break an armored ant's exoskeleton – were now biting the trunk of the tree I was sitting in.