Part 4: For Little Muck!
A little goblin was walking past the local swamp, crunching on some lightly salted bird bones when he heard a splash and a yelp from the reeds. He went to explore the noise and discovered a little creature, stuck in the muck, covered in mud and duckweed. The little goblin, Bogflug, (named after his love of the bog, muck, and mire) rushed right over, using his disproportionately large feet to propel and stabilize him in the swamp. He made it to the little creature, and scooped deep down into the mud, lifting the creature up and out. It was a puppy! Filthy, stinky, noxious and absolutely wonderful.
“Little Muck,” said our Bogflug, “that will be your name.” Little Muck licked Bogflug and Bogflug licked him back. “Tasty!” he said, “but don’t worry! I won’t eat you. Best friends don’t eat each other.”
Bogflug gave his new puppy a bath when they got back to their swampside town. Upon cleaning, Bogflug discovered his new puppy was green, just like him! “Wow! That swamp muck really got in there, huh? I don’t think that green is ever coming out!”
—
“Bogflug!” shouted Letty, “Did you hear? This guy saw a large green dog rise out of a grave.”
“Yeah. I heard,” said Bogflug. “At the village near the swamp. My village. That was Little Muck. My best friend.”
The tales of necromancy were starting to hit home. The crew had heard stories of Little Muck, over the years. The time he ran down a felstag and bit it in the rump. The time he climbed a tree, chasing a felsquirrel and bit it in the rump. Or the time he jumped back into the swamp, chasing a felgator and bit it in the rump. Lots of fel-creatures near the swamp, you see, and the crew knew all too well of Little Muck’s penchant for rump-biting.
“We’re doing something about this,” stated Grim. It wasn’t a question or a possibility. It was the truth. He continued, “Bog’s there every day for us. When I broke my hands by punching that mythril helmet guy in the head, who helped me go to the bathroom all week? Letty, when you poisoned everyone with your new meade recipe, who tried the very next version without question? Blande - who listens to your stories and is always actually interested?”
Blande responded, “Alright. Bogflug… Let’s go find your dog. And stop whatever’s behind this.”
“For Little Muck!” shouted Letty.
“FOR LITTLE MUCK!” they all joined in.
