Amerigo coughed and spluttered as his lungs filled with air for the first time in years. This sudden and painful experience was one of a hundred he was currently dealing with.

　　The bubble of seawater had absorbed most of the impact from his crash from cruising altitude. The rest went into him.

　　He ran through the last few moments in his head in the slow-motion of traumatic memories.

　　The bubble fell fast and hard onto some kind of wooden structure, missing the bubbling pot, but hitting some kind of gnomeoid creature that was staring straight at him, dumbfounded. The bubble rebounded before giving way and subjecting him to the full and unmitigated force of gravity. He, amidst a torrent of water, hit the landing. The whole platform gave away.

　　Everything was still wet.

　　Wetness, too, was a feeling he would also have to learn to deal with. Underwater, one never feels wet. It is only when one is dragged on land, out in the open air on dry land, could one feel the water on their skin.

　　Right now, he wished to be far below the surface with his fish and corals. That thought carried a snag to it, but he couldn`t place&

　　Fen!

　　He pulled his hat off and retrieved the pipe. The crustacean wouldn`t come out, though it still clung to his uprooted hairs. He put the pipe to his lips and blew. The crab popped up like a salty party popper, startled but fine.

　　Just checking.

　　Fen grumpily retreated again, and Amerigo returned him to his cap.

　　For the first time, he noticed the bodies strewn about the place, moaning and writhing. A shout grabbed his attention. One of the creatures, wearing a very wet and droopy hat, was going about the place kicking the others. He was spurring them to action.

　　Amerigo didn`t like his tone of voice. It didn`t give him much hope for an amicable seeing-off.

　　He decided it best to become scarce while a war party got to its feet around him. He left the encampment by the way opposite the crowd was moving before anyone had the wits to call him out.

　　****

　　Hours later, Amerigo was still walking.

　　The effort wasn`t what bothered him. He wasn`t buff, but swimming underwater as he did was great exercise. What bothered him was the hot sun and dry air. Something of his god`s protection was still about him. He was coated in a thin salty membrane. Or maybe it was just sweat. He was incredibly thirsty for the first time in years, too.

　　He didn`t bother removing his cap. It blocked some of the sun while also providing Fen with a much-needed humid microclimate. The crab was a hearty breed, capable of great feats of land exploration by special means of keeping his gills wet. He just wasn`t very useful.

　　The gnome had encountered some wildlife along the way. A lizard had been sunning itself on a rock when it was rudely interrupted by Amerigo. It had stared at him blankly while he expressed friendship and inquiry. The lizard responded with a slow blink. It scurried out of sight leaving Amerigo feeling like he`d been misunderstood. This had never happened to him before.

　　The bird was a success, however. A big black one with a pink bald head had been following him for some time. He took it as a good omen. Plus-one new friend, even if it was a little standoffish.

　　What really bothered Amerigo, aside from the strength-sapping oppressive sun persistently hovering over his shoulder like a bad office supervisor, were the rocks. It wasn`t that there were so many, though it was drudgery itself to make his way among them compared to the freedom of swimming.

　　The rocks weren`t alive.

　　Coral was a unique marriage of stone, animal, and plant, and he dreadfully missed being among it. Its inhabitants could be called denizens, and the lush formation a neighborhood. In this horrible place was only fungus and selfish hissing critters. There was the occasional bloom of sticks that was either dead scrub, or something merely so dormant in its patient wait for the rare flood waters as to be temporarily dead scrub.

　　These arid rocks were an oppressed inner city by comparison.

　　Ultimately, he was lost in a foreign country without a phrasebook. He was tired from sleeplessness, fatigued by the terrain, and very close to heatstroke. He collapsed on the ground.

　　It was the perfect time for a religious moment.

　　"Amerigo!"

　　He was too tired to look around. The voice called again. He thought he recognized it through the mind fog. It was like it was booming from far off, like a thunderstorm on the horizon.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

　　"Get up! I can`t believe you could miss him like that!"

　　It wasn`t angry at him. It was jovial, in fact. It chided him in a friendly manner, a verbal shoulder punch. Amerigo could feel the warm rock under him, but was steadily caring less and less.

　　"That kobold is the one you`re looking for, Amerigo."

　　Kobold? What is a kobold?, he thought, close to sleep.

　　"Don`t move. I can restore you a bit, and I`ll rustle up some help."

　　At those words, a shadow crept over him. A blessed cumulus cloud had spontaneously appeared, blocking the sun. To the delight of both him and a nearby dead scrub, it began to rain.

　　****

　　Justafar and Eleruse were taking wine in their orcish longhouse while watching the servants fight to the death. It was an enjoyable pastime the two preferred in each other`s company, though Justafar was not in his usual bloodthirsty mood. Eleruse was taking notice and chided him with a bark.

　　"If you aren`t enjoying the fight, I`m calling it off to save on servants."

　　He only grumbled and muttered into his wine, so she signaled irritably to the servants to stop. The goblin and lizardfolk froze in a picture of chaos.

　　The lizardfolk stood hunched over the goblin, with the goblin wringing the lizard`s neck and the lizardfolk in the middle of yet another punch to the goblin`s midsection. The two quickly separated and groveled backwards out of the room.

　　Neither of the orcs noticed. Eleruse was lovingly glaring daggers at Justafar, while he sulked in his wine, simultaneously thinking politics and recognizing his woman`s concern. She stood from her throne and pointed at him.

　　"Stop your sulking or you`ll feel my hand, worm," she growled.

　　This show of affection snapped him fully out of his reverie and he responded to her in kind.

　　"Shut up! I`ll sulk as much as I like, cur."

　　She could tell his heart wasn`t in it. She spat on the ground at his feet and taunted him.

　　"What`s wrong?" she asked with a sneer.

　　"I`ve been thinking about Lord Kairon. His orders lately haven`t been any different. More of the same. I don`t agree with his policies."

　　Eleruse stood attentively facing her man, only thrusting her empty cup in her outstretched hand to the wine attendant standing blithely behind their thrones.

　　Justafar continued, "I understand that he`s undefeated. I watched the whole fight between him and Chief Ironskull, the whole three days it lasted. It`s just&" he trailed off meekly. She reacted to the sudden passivity of his words, so he ended it instead by beating his fist on the arm of his throne and roaring, to show he wasn`t upset at her.

　　"Idiot. How could this be upsetting you? He is undefeated. His right to lead is apparent."

　　"He may have the right, but I question his morals. Do you not remember Kithbar demanding to see Lord Kairon`s skull collection? What kind of leader hides the collected skulls of his enemies?"

　　"You complete fool. Lord Kairon himself said it was beyond counting."

　　"Where are they, then?," the halls shook with the force of his words. "We should see the mountain from here, if his words are true. Lately I`m wondering if he still knows how to use a sword correctly with what he`s been telling us to do with them."

　　"You`re talking about his plan to subjugate the very earth into feeding our people. I say we should have thought of it sooner."

　　At this he cut her off. "He`s commanding us to beat them so that we may carve the earth with them!" He was shocked anew at the ridiculous notion. "The ground don`t bleed! It&it`s unnatural!" With that, he slumped in his chair.

　　He had a point. Lord Kairon`s kind of leadership was like none the orcs had seen before. She could only manage a half-hearted, "Idiot." A brief pause framed the moment before she strode over and slapped him.

　　"Arrange a party," she commanded, "Go out and conquer. I don`t want you in here getting soppy."

　　He was comforted that she agreed with him, and glad to have vented his frustration. His thoughts turned intimate at the slap. He stood abruptly, the two standing chest to chest, faces locked in matching grimaces. Without looking, he waved the wine servant out of the room, who nervously complied just as the fight started. Justafar felt lucky to have such a loving partner. His head locked in her elbow and his back bent double, he thought about how he loved her to death.

　　****

　　Justafar and his hunting party were on the prowl. Armed with the few weapons untouched by Kairon`s mandate, they tramped about the wastelands looking for objects of their wrath and savages to imprison. It had been a while since they`d had some old fashioned orcish fun. They had celebrated the occasion with drink when they were first out of sight of the village walls.

　　Village? No, Kairon had another word for it. He wanted everyone to call it a city.

　　Out here were the so-called farmlands. Their great leader had the ridiculous notion that if they attacked the earth and desecrated its wounds with the corpses of vegetables, they would profit in some esoteric way. Some orcs had been assigned to the duty, criminals allowed to work off their debt to society. While his party was sitting and drinking, he could see one of the poor devils toiling away.

　　After drinking half their ration of orcish ale, the party wandered drunkenly through the wilderness. Orcs are particularly hardy, being typically tall, musclebound, and having some resistance to the elements. They had little to fear from exposure. Those elements which would normally eat a sleeping kobold in two snaps would have to think twice before imposing themselves on a wayward orc.

　　Justafar was only loosely acting on information about a goblin camp near the vill-&city. Goblins didn`t make the best laborers, but small gangs made good sport and were not very hard to find. There were always plenty to fill the prisons.

　　In his own opinion, lizardfolk made the best laborers. They were individualistic, strong, and without much in the brain department. He couldn`t tell if they even knew they were imprisoned because, to him, their lives only improved when they came under the protection of the orcs. Food was more plentiful, and they only occasionally had to fight for their life, compared to the everyday occurrence it was in the wild. It seemed that way to Justafar, anyway, not that he thought of it often or in depth.

　　It was while they were looking for this goblin camp that one of the orcs reported something strange.

　　"A single cloud, sire, over there and not too far off." The orc was pointing at it as he spoke. "It`s not the rainy season, and it`s all by itself. Something important over there."

　　Justafar grunted a confirmation. He selected two of his group and they set off eagerly.

　　****

　　The water cooled the rock and drenched Amerigo`s kelpy clothing. He started to come around. Had the voice said it was going for help? He opened his eyes and looked around, now fully sensible.

　　"Look what it is," a voice said, much more gruff and less jovial than he had expected, "some sort of&soggy goblin by the looks of it."