The Shadow of Walgoth

The following takes place following: Fallout

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After days of tracking Waldo across the Waldonian wilderness, Master Devlin—clad in his Witcher-like gear—finally began making progress. Though he could fly, he stayed near the ground to track more effectively.

On the western bank of Lake Waldron, his boots crunched over scorched earth as he passed through the remains of a small settlement. Smoke and decay lingered in the air. He paused at the edge of the ruins, surveying the destruction.

Kneeling, his clawed fingers brushed the dusty earth. A trace of slime caught his attention—goblin slime. Moving south, the terrain shifted to sparse woods and rocky outcrops. Broken branches coated with slime, tufts of fur snagged on bark, and crusted patches of dried saliva marked a recent passage.

He quickened his pace. The dark silhouette of the Tower of Walgoth grew larger, its jagged spires clawing at the sky. A sense of foreboding settled over him—but he welcomed it.

At the base of the tower, Devlin melted into the shadows. Skunkbreed guards patrolled the perimeter, their grotesque forms lumbering, armour glinting faintly. The stench was overwhelming, but he remained unshaken. He crouched low, silver sword humming faintly at his back.

Stepping from the shadows, he let his presence be known. The guards froze, faces twisting in confusion before one growled low.

Devlin raised a clawed hand in peace, the other resting lightly on his sword—a signal of readiness, not aggression. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, then stepped aside.

At the heavy doors, a familiar tag caught his eye: a large green “WF” spray-painted across the wood. This was the place. Rather than climb the endless staircase, he unfurled his wings and took off.

After a short flight, he landed on the balcony. The tower was eerily quiet; none of the monks Travers had mentioned were present. Torches burned with a sickly green flame, casting grotesque shadows along the walls. The air was thick and humid, carrying the faint tang of decay.

He pushed open double doors into a vast chamber, its vaulted ceiling stretching into shadow. Green light glowed from a massive crystal embedded in the far wall.

Seated on a throne of bone and iron was Widdle Frunkut. The diminutive warlord was a grotesque mockery of royalty, his gaudy regalia stiff with dried blood. Beady eyes gleamed, and a wide grin revealed jagged, yellowed teeth.

wF: “Ah, hi, Danny! Welcome home!”

Master Devlin: “Hello, Waldo…”

wF: “You must be famished after all that climbing. Care for a snack? We have monk!”

Without waiting for a reply, he snapped his fingers at one of the lurking Skunkbreed guards. The hulking creature snarled in acknowledgement and lumbered out of sight.

Waldo chuckled, his tone light but edged with a mocking undercurrent.

wF: “Got fed up with that Travers man, eh? Come to join Wiffuhuh, no doubt! Well, of course, we’d love for you to join us. We’ve always said—”

The Skunkbreed guard returned, dragging a submissive robed monk. The monk stumbled forward but quickly straightened, dropping to his knees before Waldo’s throne. Bowing his head deeply, he remained motionless until Waldo waved dismissively.

The monk rose, turned, and faced the Master. His pale face glistened with sweat, his trembling hands betraying the fear his bowed posture tried to conceal. Yet his eyes locked with the Master’s, resolute in their purpose. He stood ready to be devoured by the pointy-looking purple dragon-man.

Master Devlin: “Umm… no, thank you.”

The monk looked both relieved and slightly offended.

wF: “Come, Danny, didn’t your dear old mother teach you it’s not polite to refuse a King’s invitation to dinner?”

Master Devlin: “Hey Waldo, how about you let the monk run along and we can have something else to eat—then a little chat regarding your recent behaviour.”

wF: “YES, YES… very well, Earth clan… Figures you’d still be all vegetarian and all that gay crap… LEAVE US!”

The Skunkbreed and the monk shuffled out of the King’s court.

wF: “So… how have you been? I must say, we can’t help but be impressed with your new pupil. Dropping a nuclear bomb on Waldonia… I’d say that’s worthy of Wiffuhuh, but even Wiffuhuh never did that. We had no idea the Travers man had it in him. Good job, we say! And there’s no hard feelings, by the way… all’s fair in love and war, innit.

Of course, it’s only fair Wiffuhuh take some credit for creating the environment that led to it… You’re welcome, by the way…”

A Skunkbreed returned and handed Waldo a box of spiders before giving the Master a plate of muffins.

wF: “Don’t worry, Pasta… those muffins are ricin‑free this time. No topping at all, in fact. Just plain and boring… like you! Haha… go ahead… EAT!”

Waldo casually tossed a couple of spiders into his mouth like crisps, crunching down as others tried to escape. The Master ate his muffins. A spider crawled out from under one of them and stared at him. The Master winced and put the plate down.

Master Devlin: “Yes, unfortunately the President chose to once again go off‑book and go against me and his advisers. As far as he’s concerned you are dead, but I knew that not to be the case. But the other part that troubles me— I can’t help but feel this was all too easy, and that you knew Travers would do something like this. So what is your angle?”

wF: “We has no angle, Sydney. We just do stuff. And then react. The Travers man made a good play. Of course it won’t save him…”

Master Devlin: “What do you mean?”

wF: “We’ll show yous…”

Waldo led the Master across the chamber towards a set of double doors. He lazily pointed at them, expecting the Master to open them. With a sigh, Devlin complied.

They stepped out onto another balcony, this one facing the mountain range. In the valley far below stood an impatient army of Skunkbreed, some 70,000 strong. The Master looked down at them, visibly nervous.

Master Devlin: “Waldhaven… Waldron… this was all a distraction. Keeping us occupied while you built your real army without disruption…”

wF: “Damn straight! Wesa has a grand army now! No more small time…”

Waldo headed back towards his throne. The Master followed slowly, weighing up his options.

Master Devlin: “What do you intend to do with this army?”

wF: “They march for Widdlington in the morning. By nightfall they will have taken the city. We will remove the pesky governments. Then Wiffuhuh shall be King of Waldonia once again. Just like back in the day… uh huh, that’s right!”

Master Devlin: “Waldo… this is madness!”

wF: “Don’t be preposterous, Stanley. It’s fully logical. We is the eponym of the Waldoverse. It’s only fair we should rule… And as our Master, you should be by our side!”

Master Devlin: “You attack Widdlington and thousands will die…”

wF: “Yes, of course, but that’s just a bonus. This is about the rightful ruler of Waldonia… namely Wiffuhuh! So… wanna come with? Switch teams?”

The Master rushed for the exit, intending to warn the President. A gang of Skunkbreed entered the chamber as he tried to leave and charged at him. The Master fought them off, throwing them around the room. More and more poured in, like an army of Smiths from The Matrix Reloaded.

He held them off for a moment longer, but was finally overwhelmed and plunged into darkness.

The Waldoverse continues in Birdonia Returns?