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Stuffie Quest: Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2022-06-28 16:02:00 +0000 UTCBeartholomew fell back before the press of the Gloomlings. Everywhere he looked, there were nightmare creatures. They were of many shapes and colors, though all the shapes were sharp and all the colors dark. One was black with an oil-slick shine to it’s cruel mandibles, while another was a leaden red color, bursting with thorns.
They packed The Woodwork passage, scrabbling over the boards and discarded toys, shoving each other in an effort to get at the stuffies. Locked in on one side by sheetrock and planks, on the other by paper-covered insulation, the stuffies had nowhere to retreat.
It was all he could do to keep his sword in his hands and his cloth-skin whole. Beartholomew turned from enemy to enemy, managing at most a slash that bounced off the woody texture of the Gloomlings. The other knights were brightly-colored blurs around him, shouting battle cries as their swords whistled through the air.
Out of the chaos, a massive roar made the combatants pause, Stuffies and Gloomlings alike. Shacklebolt used the moment of hesitation to smash a large, headless Gloomling with their blade.
Beartholomew’s heart thudded painfully in his stuffing to see that Gloomling and two more of the larger nightmares descend upon Shacklebolt. To his amazement, the dragon stuffie not only withstood the attacks, they were pushing their opponents back. Fighting not just with sword, but wings and tail too, Shacklebolt had all three of the bulky Gloomlings fighting just to keep from being overwhelmed.
A creature shaped like a bird, but with quills in place of feathers, swooped down on Beartholomew. He blocked its beak, but felt a leg tear, as the wing raked sharp spines down him. Every swing of his sword connected, severing or shattering quills. Each time he earned at least one more puncture. He was losing the exchange quickly, especially given that this was just one out of several dozen nightmares.
Out of nowhere, Ginger was at his side. He sent a bat-shaped Gloomling spinning away from him and pointed a blunt paw at Beartholomew’s foe. Cotton fluff rose from Ginger’s paw, striking the spiney crow like a torrent of liquid. The fluff was everywhere on the creature, tangling it’s spines in a hopeless mess.
“Thank you!” Beartholomew shouted. He drove his sword point down into the creature’s head with a satisfying crunch. The sack of fluff that Ginger’s Fluffmancy had created, sagged as the Gloomling dissipated into a mildewy mist.
“Think nothing of it!” Ginger said jovially, as if he were merely playing, rather than engaged in deadly battle. “Keep your sword moving in big sweeps against that type. It’ll make some distance for you!”
Beartholomew nodded and turned to the next foe. This one was smaller, all jaws and legs like a bullfrog with a bear-trap for a mouth. The less bear-traps in the world, the better! A massive overhand blow dispatched that one as well and restored Beartholomew’s confidence. He wasn’t a bear stuffie for nothing. His round body was strong, in addition to being huggable.
“Well done Beartholomew.” Hamlet called, from atop a chunk of wood. “Move to your left, press them on that flank. Sir Ginger, keep up with that Fluffmancy, slow them down on the right as much as you can.”
“Understood!” Ginger said. He turned and sent a massive flow of fluff into the foes.
“Yes Sir!” Beartholomew said.
There wasn’t time to salute, he’d do that later. In the moment, he waded in, laying about with his sword two-handed. It was gratifying to see the Gloomlings falling back, some dashed into mist, others merely retreating from his blade.
Before he realized what was happening, Beartholomew found himself deep into the enemy ranks. He tried to back up, but the Gloomlings were already closing in at his sides. A vicious creature with arms like rusty scissors stepped into the gap, cutting off his retreat and completing the surround.
He’d hardly had time to feel afraid, before David came flying over the battle and smashed his powerful feet into the scissor-armed Gloomling. Without missing a beat, the rabbit stuffie grabbed Beartholomew’s arm, pulling them both back to the group with another powerful leap.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I got sep….” Beartholomew trailed off, as David was already gone.
A Herculean jump carried David up the wall, where Gloomlings were crawling up to intercept Strawberry before they could complete their ritual. A flurry of kicks sent them tumbling down the walls, but David was already in motion, leaping down to assist Hamlet.
The two of them fought back to back, using the high ground of the wooden block to lay down a steady beat of blows against the nightmares. Taking a cue from them, Beartholomew returned to his space-clearing sweeps with more discipline.
It seemed like they were going to win! Between Ginger and himself, their questing group had cleared out some space to fight next to Hamlet’s high ground. Hamlet had his sharp eyes and ears on the battle, calling out threats and tactics. The stuffies responded as if they’d been comrades for years. David’s legs were still carrying him wherever he was needed, while Shacklebolt still had the biggest Gloomlings locked down before their onslaught.
A sudden worry gnawed at Beartholomew. Alanna was unaccounted for. Desperately searching between blows, he finally spotted her on the other side of Shacklebolt. She was a whirlwind of sword and claw, shredding the lesser Gloomlings that were trying to flank the valiant dragon.
It was odd that there should still be so many of them, given the rate at which Alanna was smashing them. Beartholomew knew he had accounted for at least ten himself, and wounded many others. Hamlet’s strikes were precise and deadly. David never landed anywhere that he didn’t dispatch at least one Gloomling.
Even so, the foes were pressing in more thickly than before, if anything. Shacklebolt had beaten great cracks and slashes into their foe, but had paid for those with a multitude of rips and small cuts. The air was thick with Gloomling mist, and still they flowed from the hole in the insulation.
Beartholomew set his stitched mouth in a hard line. He would fight to the last. None of these brave knights would see him falter. He loved Alanna, but if she released him, he’d be proud to squire for any of his comrades. With grim determination and a deep bear growl, Beartholomew hewed at the Gloomlings with all his might.
A tangle of threads fell from above. Beartholomew nearly slashed at it before he realized it was Strawberry’s binding. Only Bartholomew’s own experience with Threadmaturgy kept him from staggering into a tangle and getting caught up himself. The threads drifted to waist height and suddenly tightened. They snared the mass of small Gloomlings, packing them into a spikey ball of angry horrors.
To Beartholomew’s amazement, Strawberry’s binding was two spells in one. At the same time that the Gloomlings were rounded up, threads stitched their way across the tear in the insulation. They yanked closed with an authoritative motion, sealing the rift.
Freed from the need to fight a never-ending horde, the other knights turned to Shacklebolt’s foes, dispatching them before the big monsters could realize that the tide had turned against them.
Strawberry bounded down from their high perch to oversee the dispatching of the remaining mob. All the Knights, as well as Beartholomew, carefully aimed sword thrusts into the thread tangle, taking out the Gloomlings one or two at a time. As they did, Strawberry kept the threads pulling taut so that none could escape.
With a great sigh, the stuffies took their rest on the battlefield. Beartholomew checked his fur over. He was riddled with holes from his fight with the spiny crow, and had collected a number of other tears he hadn’t noticed at the time. Bits of fluff were poking out all over him.
Everyone was wounded in some way, except for Strawberry. Not that Beartholomew envied the pink cat. They were pulling great masses of thread back into themself. Using so much thread had nearly had Strawberry coming apart at their seams.
“You did well, Beartholomew. I’m proud of you.” Alanna said in a pleased rumble. She was one of the worst injured of all, peppered with tiny cuts, and a portion of her mane sliced off.
“You told me stories of Gloomlings, but I never expected there would be so many of them.” Beartholomew said. “Thank you, Sir Alanna, but I’m sorry for insisting that I come. I panicked at the start of the battle. If Sir Ginger hadn’t helped me against that spiney crow, I’d be a pile of cloth and fluff now.”
“Nonsense.” Ginger said. “You were giving as good as you got.”
“I didn’t have to intercept for you any more than I did anyone else.” David said, rubbing Gloomling dust out of his ears. “I’d fight alongside you any day.”
“Well said!” Shacklebolt and Hamlet said in unison. They grinned broadly at each other and laughed.
“There’s still the matter of why your divinations work when mine don’t.” Strawberry said, slinking down next to Beartholomew to give him a hug. “I think the answer to that may prove to be the key to our quest, or at least a great advantage our enemy doesn’t expect us to have.”
“Thank you, Sirs.” Beartholomew clutched the hilt of his sword bashfully. It was hard to reconcile the terror and confusion he’d felt with the compliments of the experienced knights.
“Nor was it a sign of inexperience that you were surprised at their numbers.” Alanna said. “There can be no doubt as to the veracity of the message I received. We are facing Orthodox Dominion, and he knows we are coming.”
Beartholomew’s fur turned cold, worse than the time Briana had taken him out in the snow. He knew little of that name, except that it was forbidden to speak it. Invoking the name Alanna had spoken was considered dangerous, even if one were standing in the temple at the Cloudland castle.
None of the other stuffies flinched to hear the name, though they all looked grave. Hamlet stood up, running his paws over his ears.
“We knew that was likely the case from the beginning.” Hamlet said. “There’s not much more we can do in the way of precautions.”
“We could fill the squire in.” David said. “Beartholomew is looking at us all with a face full of questions.”
“It’s a good time for a rest.” Alanna said. “Beartholomew, Ginger, please coordinate your Threadmaturgy and Fluffmancy to heal everyone.”
“In the meantime, we’ll fill Beartholomew in on our foe. We can’t afford not to, as much as we’d rather not speak of him.” Shacklebolt said. The other knights nodded reluctantly. It was obviously still a distasteful topic, even if they weren’t afraid to say or hear the name.
“Orthodox Dominion isn’t a creature of The Gloom.” Shacklebolt said. “He is a manifestation of the impulse in all humans to reject and bully those who are different.”
“He defends the Status Quo.” Hamlet said softly.
“Supports oppressors over the powerless.” David added.
“He’s not a stuffie or a nightmare. He’s not a toy, a Little, or a Big. He’s a creature of magic and dreams. Specifically, the dreams of all the small-minded and fearful people of the world.” Strawberry said.
“Even a Big can have difficulty dealing with Orthodox Dominion, or his agents.” Ginger said. “For a Little, it can be devastating.”
“What happened to the Little that we’re questing to help?” Beartholomew asked. It was good to be concentrating on closing up the tears on Shacklebolt’s cloth while they talked. It kept him from fully dwelling on what the knights were saying.
“I know not by what foul sorcery,” Alanna said. “But Orthodox Dominion took the Little’s littleness away from him. He’s Big now, and not by his choice.”
“No!” Beartholomew shouted before he could stop himself, quickly covering his mouth with a paw in apology.
“We will not let it stand.” Shacklebolt said. “As Stuffies Primary, we can wield Sympathmagy to give us a powerful connection to our Littles. With six of us here, I can’t imagine a curse we couldn’t break.”
“That’s why there were so many Gloomlings.” Alanna said. “Normally we could have dispersed the smaller ones with the power of a happy Little’s heart. Only the large ones would have been a danger.”
“But if we’d done that, it’d tax our Littles.” Hamlet said. “They have their limits, and Orthodox Dominion is dangerous even to Bigs. We have to save their intervention for the curse.”
“That’s why you didn’t want me to come.” Beartholomew bowed his head apologetically to Alanna. “I can’t help break the curse, and it’s probably dangerous to face Or… face the enemy without Sympathmagy.”
“It is dangerous.” Ginger said. “But not impossible.”
“I would change my vote now, if we held it again.” Alanna said. “Be at peace, Beartholomew. I’m glad you’ve come.”
“What’s to stop the enemy from sending more and more Gloomlings until we’re overwhelmed?” Beartholomew asked. “I don’t want him to, but if he knows we’re coming, and he’s so dangerous, what’s stopping him from sending the whole Gloom after us?”
“He’s not supposed to believe in such things.” Strawberry said. “Magic and wonder, even the fearful kind, aren’t supposed to be real to Orthodox Dominion or his helpers. He can only access creatures like that in a roundabout way, and never on the Earth.”
“Then, maybe there’s a reason we haven’t been doing this, but why aren’t we traveling faster?” Beartholomew asked.
“We have to be cautious.” Alanna said. “If we started running, we could go headlong into another ambush.”
“No, not running.” Beartholomew said. “Sir David said that it doesn’t matter what path you take through The Woodwork, only that you keep making progress. We have so many skilled Stuffies here. Sir Strawberry and I could build a glider with Sir Ginger’s help.”
The knights looked surprised, but not upset or dismissive. They were even waiting for him to keep speaking. Eagerly, Beartholomew continued.
“There’s so much space up above us.” He said. “We could fly through the passages.”
“By the Littles, it could work!” Shacklebolt said.
“I’ve only ever traveled The Woodwork on my own.” Hamlet said. “Beartholomew is right. It would be even faster if we used the furnace vents though. Normally we avoid them because of the wind, but it would be to our advantage now.”
“Thank you, Sir Hamlet!” Beartholomew said. “You’re as wise as the other fox I was friends with at the store.”
“I’m a Fennec, if you please.” Hamlet said, kindly. “You’re plenty wise yourself. I was only building on your idea.”
“We’d have to have a way to decide on a direction, and act on it.” Alanna said. “Without purposeful travel, we’ll just wander The Woodwork forever.”
“I can use my wings to steer.” Shacklebolt said.
“I can jump to a wall and back to make bigger course corrections.” David said.
“I think we have a working plan.” Hamlet said. “What do you say, Sir Alanna?”
“As long as our Threadmaturges and Fluffmancer are confident that they can build the glider and keep it intact with seven stuffies on it.” Alanna said. “Then I agree.”
“It shouldn’t be much of an effort with three of us on the job.” Ginger said. “Now for the hard part, deciding on the glider’s color.”
“Pink!” Strawberry said immediately.
“Well brown is a good color.” Beartholomew ventured.
“I’m partial to my fur color too.” Ginger said, laughing. “You think we can find shades of pink and brown thread that won’t clash with orange fluff?”
“If we can survive a horde of Gloomlings, we’d better be able to!” Beartholomew declared.
All the stuffies laughed. With the lightening of the mood, the last of the miasma from the Gloomlings faded away. While the rest of the knights stood watch, Beartholomew, Strawberry, and Ginger set to work on the glider.
Before long, they were aloft on a cute patchwork creation, each stuffie secured with a well-stitched strap, even David, though his strap was on a long ribbon. As they soared into a dented furnace vent, Alanna ignited the light in her sword again. A blast of hot air caught them and sent them sailing into the darkness.
Beartholomew kept his paws carefully on the guide-threads he’d built into the glider. Filled with renewed purpose, he was determined to keep the craft not just afloat, but strong enough to make use of every bit of furnace air. Despite the terror that opposed them, the brave knights alongside him were not afraid. He would have to be brave too, and help them hurry to save the Little.
