The Reluctant Adventures of Pigglebottom Broadsword

Chapter Thirteen

Pigglebottom followed Sloven Lee away from the Titan's kiosk in a westerly direction, hopping over the multiple cracks in the ground as they went. The pair walked alongside the mountain for some time until reaching the cart which would take them through the mountain and hopefully out the other side. Sloven Lee's horse looked tired and worn out, as did the attached-cart, which was essentially a poorly erected tent nailed into a plank of wood which was scraping along the floor.

"There she is" Sloven Lee shouted as he patted the horse on the back of the neck in a particularly rough fashion.

"So, how long is the ride exactly?" Pigglebottom enquired, concerned that the mode of transport wouldn't last the whole journey.

"How long? What a question, that's private!" Sloven Lee replied somewhat shocked.

"I said how long is the ride!" Pigglebottom replied unsure as to what Sloven Lee thought he'd said.

"Oh, ha, sorry about that, thought you asked something else," Sloven Lee replied bashfully, "It's a couple hours give or take through the mountain, then it depends where you're off to after that" Sloven Lee said as he brushed some crumbs off his seat and clambered onto the cart.

"I need to find a fort of some sort" Pigglebottom replied.

"A torte of some sort? There's bakeries all throughout Kroydome, why do you need to go to Desterlasioul for a pastry? Must be a real scorcher of a snack that" Sloven Lee replied as he licked his lips.

"I said a fort of some sort" Pigglebottom replied speaking increasingly louder as his voice echoed throughout the area.

"Fort, got you, no need to shout, I'm sitting right next to you. That'll be Fort Slaughter then, that's another hour or so on top of the journey" Sloven Lee stated.

"Fort... Slaughter? Why is it named such a thing?" Pigglebottom enquired in a worried tone.

"Who knows, it's a lovely place", Sloven Lee replied as he jabbed what looked like a makeshift key fashioned from twigs into the horses' side, "hop on Jim, its time we set sail".

As Pigglebottom was only half onto the cart before the horse decided to embark, he was forced to grip tightly onto the edges of the tent, which he now realised was an even bigger carrier bag. The horse and cart trotted along at an unsteady pace, seemingly alternating between slowing and quickening with every gallop. After maintaining their course of running concurrent to the edge of the mountain for a few minutes, suddenly a small hole just large enough for the horse and cart to fit through appeared, causing the horse to slide to a halt, almost buckling as it slid to turn into the small passageway. Upon entering the enclosed path, Pigglebottom had completely lost the ability to see, all that was in his visions were shapes and outlines, many of which he presumed were figments of his imagination as they appeared to be familiar things hanging from the ceiling. Familiar shapes such as arms, legs, and even the odd head here and there. Instead of worrying and allowing his mind to play tricks on him, Pigglebottom instead chose to close his eyes, that was until Sloven Lee began regaling him with a story.

"You ever heard of a place called 'Wheresat'? No? Well, legends say it's an ancient dimension, older than the earth and possibly even time itself. It originally was home to the old gods, before the new gods came in and turfed them out and claimed it as theirs, as you do. That might make you think it was a pleasant place, but no, the evil of the old gods, along with their anger at being dethroned, remained in that vacuum and turned anyone who entered into a darker shade of their former selves. Supposedly its an area of torture, pain and unbridled savagery."

"Sounds a bit like Femidome's Old Town" Pigglebottom muttered, confused as to why this story was emerging from Sloven Lee's lips.

Sloven Lee, not hearing Pigglebottom's comment, chose to continue his story "the walls themselves are stained with the dried blood of countless lost souls who wandered into the space, and it is said that the screams of those poor people who are locked in there can be heard on our astral plane when the moon is fullest and the wind whistles through the nooks and crannies of this fair land."