Vast differences in personality often lead to conflicting perspectives on a subject. To make such contrasting minds agree on an opinion required a presence too wondrous or horrifying for anyone normal to ever consider an alternative view other than the one gut instinct demanded. It was the instant recoil and scream, silenced or not, upon witnessing a murder. Other times it could be the gaping astonishment directed at the sight of natural phenomena so fantastical that their reality was difficult to accept. In the case of our unlikely team of deer and bird, the shared reaction was a convulsive shudder reserved for the unveiling of instruments of torture. For East the reason belying this was the fact his craftier endeavors ran greater risk of injury, while the Tunnel Runner simply dreaded manipulating such slim tools as the cup full of paintbrushes that tauntingly sat by an easel looming in front of his snout.

Delighting perhaps a bit too much in his job, an imp with a smile wide enough that it threatened to swallow the rest of his face, jogged up to the pair. As he neared, growing proximity to the formidable bruiser of ribs tempered his glee, and his steps became daintier. He skirted around the Lesser's backside to the shoulder where his more harmless partner perched.

Although most of East's features remained stoic as the scene they had to depict was imparted to him, perhaps some observant individuals could read the subtle shine of emotions emerging in his yellow eyes: alarm transitioned to squinting suspicion before finally fading into heavy resignation. He sighed, nodded, and gave his prickly steed a mental nudge that guided them over to the closest blank canvas waiting to be filled. Trepidation marked their approach, convicts marching off to a death sentence.

Delaying the slow sinking sensation of failure he predicted, first paints of whichever color he needed were arranged along the easel as meticulously as he could direct the Tunnel Runner to accomplish without invoking ire. The picture then was tackled in sections. Bold strokes of charcoal gray established the background, accompanied by streaks of brown, showing a rocky interior common to the caves. Moving on to the mid and foreground provided the necessary detail to better identify the rendered destination. Winding streams of red, orange, and yellow populated the canvas, and various workbenches were erected, tools abandoned on their worn stone surfaces. These were constructed to gradually draw the eye of any looking at the painting toward a tall, dark figure placed slightly off center, busy hammering glowing metal into shape.

Highlights and shadows finished the piece once he managed to cajole his familiar sufficiently into switching to a more slender brush. These last touches gave the Underforge a palpable heat that rose off the canvas. Detecting East's somewhat hesitant satisfaction, the Tunnel Runner flung his tool to the ground with a snort that clearly said, "Good riddance."