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The Adventures of Grin, Richard and Wu-Wei

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Circumstance; she is a goddess in her own right for all she casts upon us. Witness the trials of our three heroes, and know of what I speak. Have knowledge first of young Wu-Wei, sheltered monk of the elven race. Thrown to the winds that he might find a path, instead he found a briar, but with good friends to share the pricking of his fortune.

Joined with him were Grin and Richard, young and true, and in that order. They came with dreams and hopes for fortune; their homes long lost behind them, their bridges burning literal. In time they would address what cast them out, but food and aching feet would first need their attention.

Wayward went they all, breaking trail where dungeons hide. Tales had told of treasure here and treasure there, and they forgot that tales tell tales most of all. Lost they got, and plenty of it.

Then one morn they cracked the dawn, and adventure didn't hide. They needed no scouting skill, no premonition; it landed in their lap, or rather, their camp. A tower, stretching high above as though yawning with them as they woke, somehow seeming just as surprised that its doorstep was there, as they were to be on it.

It was most peculiar, and a cheer went up, for that was what they wanted! Of course it wasn't right; it was adventure, and adventure, most of all, takes you where you shouldn't be. Up they clambered clamoring, sure of what must be done. They would search it well from top to tine, ready to let each corner yield its treasure. Wayward buildings scream of wizards and careless alchemy, there had to be something within, some fortune to walk away with.

Walk away, it did. Grin and Wu were first to sprint the stairs, while Richard lagged behind. The air was wrong for headlong joy, and the walls were unwisely damp, and he thought to himself that something just wasn't right with this instant tower. The topmost rooms would reveal why, ceding no treasure, no gems, and no captured maidens. Instead, there was a mouth, and not just any mouth, and not just any mouth, but the worst kind of mouth, it being one that they were already in. Understanding dripped from their spines. The tower was not a tower; what it was, was hungry. Mimic. A bloody great mimic.

Our heroes lived, or course, for I would not wish to profit in their story had they met a tragic end. Although, truth be told, if they had skin on their teeth before their escape, they have surely lost it now, but gained a bit of trepidation and wisdom in its place. Remember well what has been told, and learn from their misfortune. Look for something long enough and you will find it; look for something without understanding, and it will find you.

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