In the Land of GIANTs, 412 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
Marisol opened her eyes on another glorious morning in the artificial cavern under the Land of the GIANTs. “Good morning, glow-worms!” she exclaimed.
The snake-sized worms in her bedchamber walls pulsed in response to her voice. There was not yet a noticeable difference between night and day in the rest of the subvillage, but Marisol had trained the worms in her quarters to mimic the sunlight patterns of the world above, and they were slowly rolling that knowledge out across the colony.
Marisol had always been fascinated by insects, spiders, and worms. Back home in Wordler Village, she’d once trained an entire Bug Circus, which had debuted to an audience of zero. Others had dismissed her talents as weird and off-putting, but oh how the worm had turned. Now, she ran the underground farm that fed her former detractors with the nourishment they needed to survive: succulent larvae, roasted cricket legs, a variety of fresh eggs, and delicious beetle juice.
Muffin rubbed up against her leg.
“What is it, girl?” Marisol picked the beetle up and gave it a snuggle. “Are you looking for your breakfast?” When she put the beetle down, it skittered a few feet away, then looked back at her with its beady little eyes. “You want me to follow you? Okay.”
Marisol followed Muffin out of her quarters and down the rounded tunnel that the Subterraneans had carved through soil and rock. There was a black bug at the end of the hallway, an odd kind of bug with a beak and feathers that strangely resembled a bird.
“Oh, you’re a crow!” Marisol exclaimed. “Please forgive me. I didn’t recognize you at first, underground and out of context.” Aside from being underground, the crow was the only “normal-sized” creature Marisol had seen since arriving in the Land of the GIANTs. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
The crow reached out a talon to present Marisol with a blue notepaper.
“Oh. I guess that means I’ve been chosen. I’m Wordler—what is it now, Wordler 410?” She looked down at the paper. “Wordler 412. My, how time has flown.”
The crow tilted its head and cawed.
“Don’t you use that tone with me,” Marisol scolded.
The bird fluffed up its plumage.
“Yes, I can tell that you’re no ordinary crow. From your superior size and stature, clearly, but also from the fact that you’ve come a long way, and with a purpose. You wouldn’t be one of those crows from the Rhyme Zone, would you?”
The crow cawed proudly.
“Do you have a hint for me?” Marisol asked.
“Not humid!” the crow cawed.
Marisol frowned. Maybe this crow was from the Weather Zone instead? She’d figure it out eventually.
“Not humid, not humid?” the crow asked.
“Yes, you can go now. Thank you for your service.” Marisol watched the bird fly off down the hallway toward whatever opening it had used. She considered the note again. “Ambertus is gathering information from among the GIANTs, but there’s been no way to talk to him. I wonder if I could train one of my flying insect friends to carry notes like this one.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
- Pinned to IPFS
Revision Notes:
To be added.
