The Crafter's Dungeon: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 1) by Jonathan Brooks (literature books to read TXT) 📕

Once he walked outside to the early dawn light, he finally had the chance to think about the future.  His first priority was to satisfy his belly, as it was starting to growl in hunger.  Of course, he didn’t have any idea where to find something to eat out in the wasteland; it was pretty obvious by the name of the place alone that there wasn’t likely to be much in the way of food anywhere near.  From what he understood of the local Orcish warbands, they ventured into the wasteland for brief periods to hunt what they called Bearlings – which lived along the border of the wasteland nearest the forest located in Orcrim – but even if he had a weapon, he didn’t think he would be very effective against them.

They also mentioned some small lizard-like creatures that were a nuisance, but he didn’t have any idea where to find them – and again, he didn’t have a weapon.  Nonetheless, he needed to eat soon if he was going to survive long enough to go…somewhere.

As he started to pick up jagged pieces of stone and some sturdier branches that didn’t look like they would crumble to dust when he touched them, he thought about what he wanted to do after he was able to find something to eat.  Really, that was the determining factor on whether he wanted to try heading to another land entirely, or risk hiding out in Orcrim where he would at least be able to find something to eat.  Both prospects didn’t sound great, but neither did living out the rest of his days in the wasteland.

He immediately dismissed the Dwarves, as he didn’t believe he would be well-received, and his family’s betrayal had left a bad taste in his mouth when it came to the whole race.  The Elves to the south were another prospect, but from the little bit known about them in Orcish society, they were even more distrustful of outsiders than even the Dwarves.  Without any other viable options, he decided that – if he did, indeed, seek out another land – he would need to head in a southeastern direction toward the Gnomes.

With an eventual destination set – hopefully – Kelerim finished up his makeshift spear.  He started by using the sharp edges of a stone to cut off the ties to his leather Blacksmith’s apron; with those, he was able to wedge another stone into one of his sturdier pieces of wood and secure it with the ties.  It was crude even by his own low standards of crafting, but it would hopefully work well enough – even if he had no idea how to use it.

He had some leather ties leftover, so he also made a small hatchet using the same materials, which might be useful if his spear broke, which, in all honesty, was bound to happen quickly if he was forced to use it for more than a single strike – or against something that had thick skin.  Either way, he was now as armed as he was going to get, but he still had to find something to kill so that he could eat.

*          *          *

The sun was at its peak in the sky when Kelerim started to despair on ever finding anything to eat.  Not only that, but he couldn’t find any water in that desolate place, as everything seemed to have dried up – like his hopes of having some sort of dinner for later that night.  With the lack of hydration and the heat from the day scorching his skin, he started to stumble around aimlessly; he had traveled so far from the cave that he had stayed in the night before that he didn’t think he had a hope of finding it again even if he was in the right mind to.

Added to that, his sense of direction was failing him as hunger, pain, and thirst battled within his body for attention.  In short, he was lost, hopeless, and highly disoriented; which was why he didn’t notice right away the group of massive Bearlings emerging from a cave along a mountain to his left.  By the time he saw them, a few short of a dozen of them were staring him down from outside their cave entrance.

Kelerim froze after he turned toward them, immediately knowing what they were from the descriptions he’d overheard from some of the warband members.  The imminent danger of now more than a dozen scary beasts – some were even still emerging from a cave behind them – looking menacingly in his direction cleared the fog he had been traveling under in a flash.  He thought that there was nothing like a life-or-death situation to snap you out of a stupor.

Since he was already facing them, he started to slowly back up, trying not to appear threatening as he put a little distance between him and the Bearlings.  He even placed his makeshift spear on the ground as a show of good faith – even though he was positive that they wouldn’t understand the gesture, but he did it anyway.  It wasn’t like it would do much good against them, anyway, because it was said that their fur was like hard leather armor around their bodies.  Besides, he still had his hatchet on the side of his belt – so he was all good.

The Bearlings thankfully didn’t move as he put nearly 300 feet in between them over the next five minutes, still backing up as slowly as he possibly could.  He didn’t know what else to do, but his method of retreat seemed to be working – and he wasn’t going to stop until he was miles away if he could help it.

Even though he was walking slowly, the weakness in his