Creatures of FASA

FASA 365, Day 346, Carceralis Orcus, (Dungeonous Ogre), 8-9ft… (standing) Omnivore,…. Bink.

Awakening from last nights bar fight, in the city jail. The only sound you hear is the snoring of your the guy you were fighting with and the slow drip of moisture coming from the stalactite at the back of the cell.

A sizable stalactite, it’s been forming and dripping there for some time, but with no sign of stalagmite; only a small puddle providing the tiny sound.

“bink”.

The moisture isn’t really water…. It has a smell. The product of humidity, condensation, rain water, and urine. All from the multiple levels of the dungeon above. Trickling slowly down, down, down; to this cell that you and your “friend” occupy.

So, although you are suffering from cotton mouth brought on by the drunkeness of the night before, you decide, you’d rather be thirsty.

“bink”.

There’s a stirring motion from the accompanying lump at your feet. Rubbing his eyes and then the back of his head, he speaks, ” Ooh, where am I?”

“WE’RE in the city dungeon.” I reply “What’d you do, to land us here?”

“ME?”

“bink”.

“YOU” I bellow in response. And just like that the fight erupts anew.

“YOU BUMPED INTO ME!”

“COS’ YOU SPILLED MY BEER!”

“I WAS REACHING FOR THE BARMAID!”

“SHE’S MY SISTER!!”

“bink”.

“WELL, SHE’S GOT A NICE BUTT!”

“THAT’S IT!!”

“HAVE AT YE'”

“BINK!!!!”, …not the puddle.

The deep resonance of the single word stops us in our tracks, mid grapple.

My vest clenched in his fists and his shirt in mine, we both turn our heads slowly toward the shadowy massive figure hidden at the back of the cell. Shared, by the now realized, three of us.

“bink”.

It shambles out of the shadows, Unable to fully stand due to low ceilings, it remains hunched over. A position of comfort for it, as it’s probably been here a long time and grown used to it. Still, Its size is, even crouched, formidable.

“Who’s your friend?” I whisper to the opposing drunkard, still holding his shirt up under his chin.

“I thought he was with you.” He replied, “There is a family resemblance. …. He certainly looks happy to see YOU.”

“bink”.

“Odd, I can take no comfort in that observation.” I say through clenched teeth. “However, if cousin he is to me, maybe you’d care to MATE with HE!” Sparking the scuffle again.

“BINK!” … It commands our attention.

Rising as high as the ceilings will allow, It points to a corpse in the corner.

Erupting in a roars, pantomiming all manner of aggression and fighting. Then, composing himself, he resumes his crouched posture, points to the stalactite, and puddle.

Taking a deep breath, he quietly breathes. “bink.”

“bink” the puddle, seemingly, replies.

I turn to my “friend” and he to me. We release grapple, dust each other off, and in seeming agreement of the choice that was undoubtedly laid out before us, we nod to each other, and then to our NEW friend, another unifying nod.

As we sit together, we state our choice, and, thereby name “him”, forevermore, as, “Bink”.