Daric had barely dusted off his shredded dignity when trouble, as usual, found him.
While sitting at a rustic village tavern (nursing a mug of something questionably called "Goat's Delight"), he overheard a raucous conversation among a group of grizzled adventurers.
"Swear on my beard," one said, slamming his mug down. "Saw it with my own eyes. The Great Feathered Terror is back! Bigger! Angrier! And it's learned magic!"
Daric choked on his drink, coughing violently.
"No way," he rasped, eyes watering.
"Aye," another adventurer chimed in solemnly. "It's not just any rooster. It's the same one you—you there, Chickenbane—killed."
Every head turned to Daric.
He froze. "Uh..." he said eloquently.
[New World Event: The Return of Cluckles the Avenger.]
[Punishment for past poultry-related crimes.]
Daric facepalmed. Loudly.
Before he could argue, the ground trembled. Outside, a massive shadow loomed. Townsfolk screamed. Chickens panicked (which was fair).
Daric ran to the door just in time to see it: a colossal, glowing-eyed rooster, wreathed in arcane flames, striding into the town square with the slow, deliberate menace of a boss battle intro.
It was Cluckles.
And he was pissed.
The villagers scattered. Buildings shook. Somewhere, a lute player hit the wrong chord.
Cluckles let out a terrifying crow—one that shattered nearby windows and sent an old man's wig flying into orbit.
"Oh, COME ON!" Daric shouted.
Cluckles locked eyes with him.
[Boss Encounter: Cluckles the Avenger. Level: Chaotic Poultry Demigod.]
Daric pulled his weapon, swallowed hard, and did what any rational hero would do.
He ran.
Screaming.
Cluckles pursued, wings flapping so hard they created mini-tornadoes that sucked up barrels, chickens, and the occasional unfortunate gnome.
"I'M SORRY!" Daric hollered over his shoulder. "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
The rooster did not accept apologies.
Daric sprinted through the village, leaping fences, diving over wagons, and at one point accidentally stealing someone's pie.
Chuckles was relentless.
Finally, Daric skidded into the temple square. A battered statue of some forgotten hero stood in the center.
"If you've got any miracles left," Daric wheezed at the statue, "now would be a great time."
Nothing happened.
Cluckles screeched, charging.
Daric remembered something: magic! Desperate, he fumbled through his inventory, pulling out random junk.
Healing potion (nope).Rope (maybe later).Mystery Scroll (unlabeled).
He unfurled the scroll, shouting the first words he could decipher:
"Chickenus Interruptus!"
A flash of light.
Cluckles froze mid-charge.
[Status Effect: Confused. Duration: 30 seconds.]
Daric blinked.
"Huh."
Without missing a beat, he dove behind the statue, scrambling for a plan.
The townspeople watched from hiding, placing bets (mostly against Daric).
Thinking fast, Daric fashioned a trap: a giant snare using ropes, barrels, and an absurd amount of cabbages.
Cluckles shook off the confusion, blinked... and saw the cabbages.
Greed lit his beady eyes.
With surprising speed, he charged the bait.
The trap sprung.
With a tremendous squawk and a flurry of feathers, Cluckles was hoisted into the air, suspended upside-down, spinning slowly like the world's angriest piñata.
Cheers erupted from the villagers.
Daric fell onto his back, gasping for air, grinning triumphantly.
[Boss Defeated: Cluckles the Avenger (technically).]
[Reward: 2,000 Essence. New Title Unlocked: The Great Clucker.]
Villagers rushed out, lifting Daric onto their shoulders.
"Three cheers for the Great Clucker!" someone yelled.
Daric had never wanted to die from embarrassment more.
But deep down, he couldn't help smiling.
Another day survived. Another ridiculous legend added to his growing (and increasingly bizarre) mythos.
Later that night, in the tavern, Daric nursed a celebratory drink. From the shadows, a mysterious hooded figure approached.
"Daric, Chickenbane, Slayer of Cluckles," the figure intoned.
Daric groaned. "Can we please stop using poultry in my titles?"
The figure ignored him. "A new threat arises. One that even you may not survive."
Daric leaned forward. "Let me guess. Giant goose?"
The figure said nothing, only sliding a parchment across the table.
Daric unrolled it.
A detailed map.
At the center, in ominous blood-red ink, was a name:
"HONKOS, THE UNTAMED."
Daric stared.
"...You have GOT to be kidding me."
And thus, once again, destiny—and unreasonably aggressive waterfowl—called.