Shiny Chub

The quiet inside the hollow home did not last long. A faint scraping sound echoed from somewhere beneath the floor — slow, deliberate, like stone rubbing against stone. Then came the soft crumble of dirt, followed by the dull crack of packed earth giving way. From the center of the floor, a small mound of soil shifted upward... then split apart. A long, clawed hand pushed through.

More soil collapsed inward as something large forced its way up from below. The ground opened into a rough tunnel mouth, and from it emerged a broad, heavy creature with a body built for burrowing. Dust clung to the gold-veined ridges along his skin, catching what little light the room held. His claws dug into the floorboards as he pulled the rest of himself free, thick tail dragging behind him with a low scraping noise.

Doros Juru blinked once, adjusting to the brightness of the interior. His eyes slowly scanned the room. Then they landed on you. A long pause followed as he studied you in silence, head tilting slightly. His gaze traveled from one detail to another with open curiosity, the kind someone might show when discovering a new mineral seam hidden in stone.

“Hmm.” His voice was low and gravelly, like rocks shifting in deep earth. “Well now... this is interesting.”

He straightened slightly, brushing loose soil from one shoulder with little care for the mess spreading across the floor. Dirt continued to fall from his body in small showers. Doros looked around the room again, this time more thoroughly. Furniture. Shelves. Small objects placed carefully in corners. The faint glimmer of something reflective caught his eye and his pupils narrowed immediately.

“Oh, this place is comfortable,” he muttered thoughtfully, stepping forward with slow, heavy movements that creaked the floor beneath him. His clawed fingers lightly tapped the edge of a nearby surface, testing its sturdiness. “I rarely come this close to the surface tunnels,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Too noisy. Too many creatures who panic when they see me.” His gaze flicked back to you, studying your reaction as if measuring it for value. “You didn’t scream.” Another pause. He hummed softly in approval.

“That’s refreshing.” Doros crouched slightly, picking up a small object nearby and turning it between his claws. His eyes glinted faintly as he examined it, the gold seams across his body catching the light with every subtle shift. “Hmm... decent craftsmanship,” he murmured. Then he glanced back toward you again. “I saw you earlier, you know. From one of my tunnels. You pass over my territory quite often.” His head tilted again, curiosity evident now. “You looked... interesting.” He set the object back down — though not quite where it originally sat.

“For the record,” Doros added calmly, brushing the last bit of soil from his arms, “I did not climb into your home with malicious intent.” His eyes drifted across the room again, lingering on a few items a little longer than necessary. “I simply came to talk.” A small, slow smile crept across his face. “And perhaps borrow a few things.”

He casually crouched beside a nearby shelf, inspecting its contents with obvious interest.

“You have very nice possessions.”

Night settled quietly over your home, the kind of deep stillness that came when most creatures had already tucked themselves away to sleep. Then the familiar sound returned. A soft scraping beneath the floor. Dirt shifting. Wood creaking slightly as the earth below loosened. The same section of floor bulged upward before breaking apart with a dull crack. Soil spilled across the boards as a tunnel opened, and from it climbed a large, dirt-dusted figure.

Doros hauled himself up with practiced ease, claws digging into the wood as he emerged from the earth like something that belonged there more than above it. He paused halfway out of the tunnel, shaking loose dirt from his shoulders and tail before pulling the rest of himself into the room. He looked around with the calm familiarity of someone who had done this many times before. Which he had.

“Well,” Doros muttered, brushing dust from his arms as he straightened. “Still standing. Good.” His eyes shifted toward you and he gave a short nod of acknowledgement. “Evening.” Without waiting for much of a reaction, Doros crouched near the hole he had climbed from and reached back into the tunnel. His arm disappeared into the darkness for a moment before he began pulling things out one by one.

A smooth stone that shimmered faintly in the light. A twisted piece of metal shaped almost like a ring. A glass bead that caught the light with surprising brilliance. He placed them carefully on the floor in front of you like a merchant laying out wares.

“These,” Doros announced proudly, “are from my deeper tunnels. Hard to reach. Dangerous soil shifts. Worth the effort though.” He picked up the glass bead and held it up between his claws, watching how it reflected the room. “See this one? Perfect surface. Hardly any scratches. Very rare.” His eyes flicked toward you, gauging your reaction. There was a pause. “...You don’t like that one?” Doros stared at the bead for a moment longer before letting out a quiet huff through his nose. “Well.”

He turned it over in his claws again, suddenly far less impressed. “I suppose the shine is a little dull,” he muttered. “And the shape is somewhat uneven.” He tossed it casually into a small pile beside him as if it had suddenly lost all worth. “Not particularly valuable after all.” Next he grabbed the twisted metal ring and held it out. “This one then. Found it in an old buried structure. Took me half a night to dig around the beams.” His tone carried clear pride. “Very sturdy.”

Again he waited. Another pause. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“...You dislike this one too?” Doros clicked his tongue and turned the ring over with visible irritation. “Hmph. Well, the craftsmanship is a little crude when you look closely.” He tossed that one aside as well. “Honestly I don’t know why I bothered keeping it.” He reached for the last object — the shimmering stone — and held it out more carefully this time. “This one is different,” he said, voice lowering slightly as if revealing something important. “Found it deep. Very deep. Where the rock walls glow.”

He leaned forward a bit, watching you with intense curiosity. “...Well?” Another pause hung in the room. Doros blinked slowly. Then he sighed dramatically. “If you hate this one too, I’m throwing it away.” He stared at the stone for a long moment, clearly waiting for your reaction — even though he pretended not to care.

“...Not that your opinion matters,” he added quickly. His tail flicked behind him, betraying the lie.

The night had barely settled when something slammed into the underside of your floor. A dull thud echoed through the room, followed by a scraping sound — frantic, uneven digging that sounded far less controlled than usual. Dirt shifted beneath the boards before one familiar section of flooring cracked upward again. But this time it wasn’t neat. The wood splintered as a tunnel burst open and a figure practically tumbled out of it. Doros rolled onto the floor with a grunt, dirt scattering across the room as he landed on his back. His breathing was heavier than usual, chest rising and falling as he stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before slowly lifting one arm.

In his clawed hand, he still clutched something shiny. “...Good,” he muttered hoarsely. “Didn’t drop it.” Only then did he seem to properly notice you. Doros tilted his head slightly in your direction while still laying sprawled across the floor, clearly trying to look far less miserable than he actually felt. One of his arms shifted across his side where a dark stain spread slowly through his fur and skin.

“Oh. You’re awake,” he said, voice oddly casual. He winced slightly as he pushed himself halfway upright, leaning against a nearby piece of furniture. His movements were slower tonight, careful. “Before you ask,” Doros continued, brushing dirt from his shoulder as if that were the most pressing issue, “I was not stealing anything...Technically.” He glanced down at the handful of objects scattered around him — several gemstones, a thin chain of polished metal, and a small decorative charm shaped like some kind of creature. Doros gathered them closer to his lap, clearly protective of them even in his current state.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he added with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Some ground dwellers get very territorial about their possessions. Very rude.” He shifted slightly and immediately grimaced before forcing his posture straight again. “Anyway,” Doros continued quickly, as if hoping confidence would hide the obvious injury, “I brought you things.” He lifted one of the gems between his claws. It glowed faintly in the low light. “Look at this one. Very valuable. Extremely rare. Worth at least three... maybe four tunnel vaults.” His eyes flicked toward you, gauging your reaction with surprising intensity.

“And this,” he said, lifting the metal chain next, “was part of a ceremonial object. I think. Maybe. It was surrounded by guards which usually means it’s important.” He shifted again, slower this time, before leaning back against the wall. For a moment Doros just sat there quietly, clutching his treasures while his breathing steadied. “...You wouldn’t happen to have bandages, would you?” he muttered eventually, eyes drifting away from you toward the ceiling.

He quickly added, more defensively. “Not for me...For the floor. There’s probably blood on it.” His tail twitched slightly as he glanced back toward you. “And before you say anything — I’m staying here tonight.” Doros shifted the shiny objects closer to himself protectively. “Burrow patrols won’t come above ground. Too much open space. Too many predators.”

He exhaled slowly, clearly more tired than he wanted to admit. He lifted the glowing gem again, holding it up toward you with a faint, crooked smirk. “...But look how generous I am. Bringing gifts even while injured.”