[h3][i]Yesaris Week[/i][/h3]

[hr]

Vandak cursed as he watched the flock of sheep out in the cold, tightening his grip around . Just another gift from his cursed luck. He could be with the tribe, eating the mushrooms that Glor had brought in. But no, he had foraged berries that were spoiled and accidentally poisoned the chief. In punishment for yet again costing the tribe some valuable food, he was sent to protect the flock from predators while they ate. This was just like the time he had tripped while carrying his end of the deer, sending it careening into the river and away from them and their hungry bellies. He had spent hours trying to make up for that lost meal, and had lost out on his own fair share of meals for it. Or the time when he had been hit by the spear that Glor threw, meant for the boar they were hunting. It had been his bad luck to stand right when Glor was throwing, trying to make up for giving away their position in the first place by stepping on an unnoticed twig. He was cursed with bad luck, he knew it and so did the rest of the tribe. That’s why he was alone so often, so that he couldn’t hurt others with his curse. And yet, he still found ways. If the tribe could afford it, they would have cast him out long ago. They were too small to afford such a luxury. As it was, they managed his curse as best they were able and kept him around. So long as his contributions to the tribe outweighed his curse, he should be fine. 

It was a cold comfort that didn’t stop his stomach from growling.

The minutes turned into hours and Vandak distracted himself by counting how many times the sheep moved in their sleep. The average was three movements before settling down for a while. He didn’t count the ones that woke up fully, as they spent a lot of time moving or getting a late night snack. Like he wished he could. 

Finally he heard steps behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. He could scrounge up some food from the leftovers, perhaps. At the very least he’d be able to get something in his belly for the night. Whomever was relieving him had evidently eaten too much, judging from their groans. 

“Took you long enough to get here!” He complained, turning around to face whomever was going to replace him. “I’ve been starving for the past few hours! How long does it take to eat mushrooms any…” He trailed off as the person stumbled forward out of the shadow. Fungus and mushrooms were growing out of his mouth and eyes. Vandak gagged, stumbling backwards, and gripping his staff tighter. “What, who-wha- Stay back!” He swung the staff, cracking the monster across the head. It’s head snapped back and it stumbled backwards, landing on the ground. 

It snarled, suddenly rushing at him on all fours. Vandak backpedalled, gasping in fear. He needed to get past this thing, to warn the tribe. As he scrambled backwards, his eyes looked past the monster to see if anyone had heard the conflict. He let out a cry of fear, seeing more of those things rushing from where the tribe had been cooking the mushrooms. On all fours, they rushed towards him. As they got closer, he began to recognize them. Fungus grew from their faces and eyes, their hands and ears, their bodies and limbs, but he could recognize them, much to his horror. 

 Before he could flee and get away from these horrible monsters that used to be his tribe, his bad luck struck again. He tripped over a sheep that hadn’t fully awoken and the staff, his only weapon, flew from his hands off into the darkness. He scrambled backwards, muttering prayers to anything that would listen as the horde rushed forward, drooling and snarling. He just wanted to live, he just wanted to live, why did he have to be cursed with bad luck, he didn’t deserve this he didn’t deserve this, please something just go right in his godsforsaken life for once, please-

His panicked stream of thoughts were suddenly cut off as a white light enveloped him. The last thing he saw was the fungal monsters descending on the sheep like a ravenous horde. Vandak landed with a soft thud on cold dirt, gasping for breath and willing his heart to slow down as he stared up at the cavern ceiling. He was alive, he thought. His back hurt too much from where he landed for him to have been dead. 

With a groan he pulled himself to a sitting position, looking around. He was in a nondescript cavern, with water flowing by. It was quiet and, strangely, comforting. The only thing that stood out to him was a small headstone. Vandak struggled to his feet and walked over to the headstone, quietly reading aloud what it read. 

“Luck is gone, but her blessings remain.”

[hider=Summary]

-Vandak the sheepherder is on guard duty, complaining about his bad luck and how he can’t eat some of the cool mushrooms one of his tribe gathered.

-Surprise, the mushrooms were the hiveminds fungal stuff, his tribe tries to eat

-Vandak tries to escape, trips, and then prays to anything that’ll listen to save him

-[i]Fortune’s Refuge[/i] kicks in, and he’s teleportd there.

[/hider]