The Bat and the Boar
A Tale from the Halls of Old
Long ago, when the caverns were still young and the stone was warm from the world’s birth, there lived a cave-hog named Brolgar. He was big, bristly, and brave—but terribly forgetful. You see, Brolgar loved to dig for root-fungus and iron-lichen but always forgot to watch for creeping shadows and skittering skarn-spiders.
One day, while Brolgar snorted his way through a juicy patch of glow-truffles, a terrible creature—Skelldrith the Maw, with legs like spears and a breath like rot—descended from the ceiling!
Brolgar was too slow. Too heavy. Too rooted.
But just as Skelldrith opened its venom-dripping jaws, a tiny cry rang out from the dark:
"Screeee!"
Down swooped a little blood-bat named Kippa, her wings no bigger than a miner’s glove and her fangs like sewing needles. She bit the beast's eye, flapped its face, and screeched with all her might.
Startled and stung, Skelldrith fled into the shadows.
From that day forth, Brolgar shared his warmth and his body’s bugs with Kippa and her kin, letting them nest in his bristled fur. In return, the blood-bats stood watch from the stalactites and kept danger at bay.
And so, even now, if you see a cave-hog twitch his ears, listen close—you might hear a squeaky “Thank you” from the fur between them.
Moral of the Tale:
Even the small can guard the great, and even the great must remember kindness.
Comments