The Legend of Lefty

Ol' Blu had given up. He sat solemnly atop Lefty’s head as the young man eagerly climbed staircase after staircase. The former sand miner was going to confront the deadly beast at the top of the Food Tabernacle with nothing but a shovel and a backpack… and it seemed that no combination of words could convince him otherwise.

The kicken had tried his best. He had spoken at length about what a foolish decision this was; had tried to convince his companion to at least wait… but it was no use. Lefty had caught king fever. It was a common affliction, one that struck many young adventurers. And its primary symptom… was a severe case of overconfidence. Ol Blu's tale of kings and treasure had been too enticing. It had awakened an imagination that long lay dormant. And with no real world experience to temper that imagination, it was immediately filled with delusions of grandeur.

Which shouldn’t have been surprising. After all, consequences were a foreign concept to Lefty. He had abandoned his home with nothing but a shovel, and so far, he had only been rewarded for it. He had defeated foes, made a new friend, “discovered” a mystical temple, acquired a magical item, and eaten that magical item. Up until this point everything had worked out shockingly well… and in his mind, they would continue to work out forever. As far as Lefty was concerned, he was an experienced adventurer… and a smart one at that! Why, he knew more about history than anyone back home. That technically made him the smartest human he knew. And how could someone so smart possibly be wrong? If he thought it was a good idea, then it must be so.

Ol Blu’s claims to the contrary were simply discarded as pessimistic ignorance. The kicken didn’t know his strength. He hadn’t seen Lefty fight those drunks the previous night. Even out numbered and exhausted he had defeated them with ease! If the beast's previous challengers had been as strong as those three, then it was obvious why they had lost, and just as obvious why he would succeed! Or so he told Blu.. in far less elegant words.

Not helping the kicken’s case was the nature of the beast itself. For you see, the creature was not some fearsome reptile that breathed ice, or something indescribably horrific, like a Vork No, the guardian of the Food Tabernacle resembled an otherwise mundane animal… a creature that most people would never in their life associate with fear and death. The beast... was a chicken.

Of course it was no ordinary chicken! The thing had been permanently altered by some of the most powerful Drink magics ever mixed! Standing nearly two stories tall it could crush full grown thullhans under its feet… or pluck their heads clean off with a single lightning-fast peck. And its feathers! They had taken on the qualities of steel!. Not only did they cover the chicken from head to toe, making it nearly impervious to harm, but they were razor sharp as well, each one like a wide serrated blade.

And if that weren’t enough… the beast was also a surly, foul tempered, borderline psychotic butcher that loved to eat flesh and seemingly never slept. Even before its transformation into a literal monster, it’s said that the chicken had been… unusually aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that got near it. Needless to say, being turned into an abomination and locked in a cave didn't improve its mood. The beast struck at intruders with a fervor that was equal parts rage and enthusiasm. On more than one occasion it’s said to have pinned someone to the ground with its foot and ripped their limbs off one at a time. It seemed to enjoy the act of killing, and with its size and strength, it was very good at that particular activity.

(sigh) But it didn’t matter how deadly the beast was. At the end of the day, it still was a chicken. And most people, Lefty included, could not find it in their hearts to fear something so… delicious. Ol Blu tried of course. The old kicken used all his oratory skills, called upon a lifetime’s worth of speeches and conversations, desperately attempting to strike some self-preserving fear into his companion… but it was all in vain

Lefty was determined to go. He would not take no for an answer. And so, with no other options remaining, the kicken reluctantly led him towards the top floor of the tabernacle, where the beast’s lair was located, sitting in silence until they finally arrived at the long dark hallway which led to the it’s chamber.

The passage was similar to the one they had first entered the tabernacle through; a deep corridor with a high vaulted ceiling, and a rectangular door at the far end. Like the hallways downstairs, this space also showed signs of age and wear. Clearly, many people had passed through over the years… though the evidence they left behind here was far different from the garbage that flooded the floors below.

As you might imagine, Lefty was not the first young man to seek out the Clavis Imperium. Many young adventurers had made the same eager trek up those stairs, also hoping to defeat the beast.

And just like Lefty, many of those would-be kings and queens had received warnings from their elders… warnings they also ignored. And after they inevitably failed, those same elders left something behind to caution future visitors; trying their best to prevent history from repeating itself. Weapons of all shapes and sizes sat on the ground or leaned against walls, each one a small memorial to some fallen glory-seeker. Some of these weapons were accompanied by paintings of the proud warriors who had once held them, and to Lefty's dismay, the people in these pictures appeared much larger, stronger, and better equipped than he.

There was graffiti here too… but it wasn’t the boastful, expressive, sometimes lewd stuff that covered the walls below. The words here were simple, and plain; not made by artists but by everyday people. Some of it was solemn, remembering those who had died tragically young. Some of it was angry, talking ill of Scaevolus and his mad plans. Most of the words though… were just warnings.

“Swords are useless.” Said one line of text. “It eats shields.” Said another. “Fire only makes it angrier” “Five men wasn’t enough. “Poison didn’t even slow it down.” Lefty was nearly illiterate, but Ol Blu read the warnings as he walked by them, giving voice to the red paint that screamed at him from the walls.

It was only then, in that hall of the fallen, that Lefty finally slowed down a little. The young man was far too curious. He couldn’t help but stop and look at what surrounded him, and as he went from memorial to memorial, the sight became more and more unnerving. Many of the swords and polearms that littered the hallway were so heavy that Lefty could barely lift them. Their presence not only made him question his strength… but made him aware of just how pathetic his little shovel was.And worst of all, there were at least a hundred of these little monuments strewn about. One or two might have been ignored as a fluke, but this was a veritable graveyard of dead warriors; each one tempering his confidence with doubt.

What was most concerning however… was not what Lefty saw… but what he heard. An ominous sound drifting down the hallway. It started off faint and distant, but grew louder and more powerful the farther he traveled. It was the thudding of something large, like the footsteps of a giant walking in the distance. At first the deep booming thump was so low in pitch that he could scarcely detect it… but as he drew closer to the doorway, the sound became undeniable, amplified by the echoing stone around him, and punctuated by little tremors that shook dust from the ceiling and made his steps uncertain.

By the time Lefty reached the end of the hall, his once confident hands were shaking. The booming, floor-shaking thuds were now accompanied by the rattling of metal blades, as if some colossus was jingling a keychain of swords. It was coming from the other side of the door in front of him, a large heavy metal affair which itself was painted with half a dozen warnings in bright reds and yellows, begging him to turn back now.

Ol Blu, brave and loyal as he was, asked Lefty one more time; pleading in a soft voice to just turn back. And for a moment… the young man truly considered the words. Nervous sweat dripped from his brow, as if the weight of the request had raised the temperature. He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling as he took in deep breath… and then let it out.

He gathered his mind. He thought about it. But in the end… the young man just shook his head. “No. I’m going”

With one last sigh, the kicken asked politely to be put down. It would be difficult for Ol Blu to make his way all the way back to the main entrance on those stubby little feet, but it was better than facing the certain death which lay ahead.

Lefty stood there, looking silently at the door for another moment… and then removed Ol Blu from his head. He gently set the kicken down on the dusty ground, his hand still shaking, and gave his new friend a sad but understanding nod. He wouldn't force him into danger, but he had to do this… because as scared as he was… he was equal parts excited.

Nothing in his life had ever been dangerous before. Nothing had made his heart beat as heavily it did at that moment. Standing there, with only a door between him and death… he never felt more alive… and the sensation was overwhelming. He HAD to do this. Even if it was alone. Even if it meant certain death. He would rather risk it all and die fighting… than take the safe path back… and risk never returning.

No. That wasn’t an option anymore. He had abandoned the safe path the moment he left Ash Tab. He was here, now, because he wanted to be challenged, because wanted to do something noteworthy with his life. Perhaps his story ends here, with him dying to the beast… but if so, then it ends with him joining all those brave warriors who’s weapons memorialized the hallway. Better to be a tiny footnote in history… than nothing at all.

Lefty grabbed the handle of the large steel door with both hands and slowly pulled it open.

The old thing creaked in agony after being still for so long. Cold air and bright sunlight flooded into the chamber, sending clouds of dust billowing off behind him. The thudding clang of metal feathers grew louder and more clear. Beyond the doorway was a set of steep stone stairs about as tall as he was. They were cracked and crumbling, unlike the rest of the tabernacle, and stained with dried blood. They lead up, into a large cave with several holes in the ceiling.

The beast's chamber was not a well carved room, but a natural crevice in the side of the mountain which opened up to the sky. The floor was dotted with huge boulders and towering stalagmites which loomed above Lefty. The normally oppressive heat of the afternoon sun was undercut by the icy chill of high altitude winds, which whistled loudly as they rushed at the stairs through an opening at the far end of the cave.

Lefty shielded his face with his forearm as he climbed the steps, the brightness of the outside world stinging his eyes. As his head peaked over the top, a particularly strong gust of wind almost knocked him back down. He turned his face aside to avoid its stinging bite, and continued onwards, moving against the wind until finally he came to the top.

And just as he stepped out into the open, the wind died down. For a second everything was deathly quiet… and then came the booming clatter of metal wings slamming against stone. The sound rang out to his left; louder and more clear than ever before. Lefty jumped and turned quickly to face the beast. He brought up his shovel, gripping it tightly in both hands, letting out a cry as he raised it above his head and charged. He took a few steps forward, fully prepared to fight for his life…

And that's when he saw it; the gargantuan form of the beast; nearly two stories tall, it’s silver feathers shining brilliantly in the sunlight....

It was dead.

From the looks of it, it had been dead for a very long time. All that remained of the once fearsome creature was a giant skeleton covered in metallic feathers, which lay slumped over a large boulder near the center of the cave.

As Lefty stood there, staring dumbfounded at the remains, another gust of mountain wind blew into the cave. It caught on the lifeless feathers, causing the beast's wing to lift up briefly. The metal frame rattled as it hovered in the air for half a moment, before clattering loudly to the ground as the gust faded, a deep boom echoing across the cold stone.

For a while, Lefty just stood there, staring at the former beast, listening as the rapid beating of his heart gradually returned to normal. Slowly he lowered his hands, letting his shovel fall to the ground with a tiny clank. And then... he turned back around and headed quickly back down the stairs, running excitedly to get Ol Blu.