30 - Gnashing Prison

The next cleft was only about ten feet deep. The trow had been working on the crevice to deepen it. As Joe walked around, a glint off the floor caught his eye. On the ground was a rock about the size of his thumb; half of it was quartz; the other half was gold.

"No way!" he exclaimed, showing Earcellwen and Mojo the glittering stone. The dog-monkey's eyes lit up, and he began to scour the ground around him for his own nugget, which he found quickly. His chunk was slightly larger than the first one found, which prompted him to climb up Joe's side to hold them side by side with a gloating grin beaming from his face.

The three of them looked around the cramped space, finding a dozen such rocks. It seemed like the trow had been mining this ravine for gold. After they split up the nuggets, giving Mojo his own share, they headed back to the main part of the gully.

A circuit of the small gorge found that over half of the caves were shallow. Deep enough to be dens for the badboons but not connected to the main tunnels. The ones that did extend deeply into the earth had all been blocked in one manner or another. Two more had been caved in. Another one had a similar profusion of iron rods sealing it. The last one was barricaded by a heavy iron gate. The bars of the barrier were at least an inch thick, and the lock was massive.

"Well, it looks like the threat has been contained," the archer remarked. "We'll report this to the guild, but I think we can move on, if you still want to."

"We could. Or we could see what's in those chests over there first," Joe countered, peering through the bars.

"You can pick locks?"

"Don't need to. You cover me from here. Gates don't stop teleportation."

"You said they have paralytic touches, Joe. How do I get you out of there if they freeze you up?"

"Good point. Ok. There are three openings to the room, not including this one. I'll place a [Halefire] in front of the far right and left. You two watch down the one straight across. If anything significant comes, I'll jump right back out. One or two ghouls, we should be able to handle. Sound good to you?"

"It's not a terrible plan. Mojo and I will have full cover from the gate, but we can still shoot through it. For me, it's pretty perfect. You should leave him all the nuts,' she suggested before adding a warning. "Just don't get locked up by their touch. We can't help you if that happens."

"I'll be careful," he assured her before making sure their creature companion understood the plan. When he felt confident that Mojo was on board, he dual-cast his undead-repelling flames in front of the two designated openings. They waited a minute to see if the spell would draw attention, but the only sound they heard was one of the dead creatures retreating from the ghoul-burning light.

"Here I go," he declared before teleporting himself right in front of four chests. He flipped open the first one and had to stifle a yelp of excitement. It was filled with metal bars. Joe thought he had struck the mother lode until he realized the metal was not gold or silver but a mix of copper ingots as well as bars of a dull gray metal that Joe identified as nickel. It wasn't worthless, but it was not the fortune he had first thought. He wasn't sure if they could even recover it. It would bust his dimbag. He'd have to see how much storage RC had in her necklace.

The next chest was full of iron balls with wicks. A whole crate full of the classic cartoon bombs Wile E. Coyote and kin were so fond of. He lifted one of the melon-sized orbs out of the box and presented it to his new friend.

"Look what I found."

It was hard to tell in the pearly moonlight, but Joe was pretty certain he saw her face drain of color again.

"Joe," she stated in an unnervingly level voice as she slid the shug monkey behind her. "Very carefully put that back. The trow are notoriously bad at explosives. My dad uses the expression 'trow bomb' or 'a trow bomb waiting' to denote a spectacular screw up or an exceptionally poor design. It is said that their own bombs have killed more trow than any other source. So please be gentle with that thing."

"Aw crap," he moaned looking aghast at the unstable explosive in his grasp. As carefully as he could, Joe placed the iron ball back into the straw nest he had taken it out of.

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"Ok, bust on loot chest number two. Come on, there has to be something good here." Joe skipped the next large crate and picked the smaller one, about the size of a suitcase. The hinges creaked far louder than he would have liked as he opened it, but Joe knew he had finally found something good.

There were four objects in the box; each one was etched or stitched with runes. There was a sledgehammer, small enough to be wielded in combat. Beside it was a rope with a distinctly green hue. Lastly, there was a small folded dark gray cloth and a weird object made from a large swath of skin or hide, and some buckles.

[Mallet (Ringless)] (Common) This hammer does not make sounds when it strikes something. {Silence}

[Trollhide Rope] (Common) Self-repairing. {Regeneration}

[Dustblock Bandana] (Common) Filters the air passing through it. {Breath}

[Sag Shield] (Uncommon) This medium shield has three states: Open (BUKA), Limp (LUMPA), and Firm (TEKERING). {Defense}

After Joe read out the descriptions, Earcellwen replied, "Definitely grab the troll-rope. Those are always useful. You can cut them up and then, later on, hold the ends together for a minute, and the rope will reknit itself back together. They are about three times stronger than your average hemp rope, too. You keep it; I have a [Leshy Line] which, while not regenerating, weighs almost nothing and is about ten times stronger than the troll-rope."

"Keep the sag shield too, since it's an uncommon. A common sag shield is garbage. They were a fad when I was young: easy to make and easy to carry. Then came the Oxwitch Massacre. After that, they fell out of favor."

Joe picked up the strange object. There was a short belt that he guessed would be buckled around his forearm. Hanging off the leather was a very uninviting flap of dangling skin, about two and a half feet long. As RC's prompting, he cinched the strap onto his arm, feeling the limp hide hanging awkwardly off the belt.

"Ready," The archer prompted, "Say 'buka'."

When Joe did, the flap shot opened like an umbrella, shaping itself into a round shield. The saggy flesh hardened and thickened until it formed a solid, hide barrier.

"Ok, that's cool, but why not just make a hide shield. That loose, flappy state is awkward. I don't see any benefit to it."

"Cause you aren't supposed to leave it dangling off your arm," she said, peering right and then left through the bars, before looking back at Joe. "Say 'lumpa'."

He did so, and the object returned to the kind of gross, floppy form he had found it in.

"Now spin your arm in a circle to get it to wrap around your forearm. When you have it wound, say 'tekering' and you'll see."

Joe followed her instructions. As he spoke the strange word, the flap firmed up onto his arm. It felt like a loose bracer. The reason it was loose was he had waited a second too long to say the word. He tried again: turning it limp with 'lumpa' and then spinning his arm and announcing 'tekering' the moment the skin stopped moving. This time it felt like a good, thick leather bracer.

"Ok, this is much better. You have either a bracer or a shield. I can see why these would have caught on. What happened at Oxwitch that killed their popularity?"

"The crafters got lazy or greedy and began to leave out runes to make the shields even cheaper to craft. The big one they left out was the {Self} rune. That rune makes the object recognize only the person wearing it. When the soldiers of Littleshade attacked the Oxwitch and her minions, she had her troops shout 'lumpa' over and over again as they attacked. The Littleshade militia went from a shielded unit to a band of idiots with flaps of flesh throwing off their balance and offering no defense anymore. The whole force got slaughtered, and sag shield usage never recovered afterwards. People still use them and make them cause they are inexpensive and easy, but they are no longer a staple item."

"And this one won't do that."

"Nope. I was testing that. That is why I called out the words for you to say. If the shield had opened when I said 'buka,' I would have told you to ditch it."

Joe tossed the rope into his dimbag. And picked up the other two items. As he was about to offer them to Earcellwen, the sound of fast, heavy footfalls thumped from the tunnel next to him. Joe only had time to drop the bandana and mallet into his bag and hook it over his shoulder before a muscular form leapt through the [Halefire's] aura. Its skin blistered in the light, but it seemed not to care at all.

The creature landed beside Joe and backhanded an arm at Joe's head. The hide shield deflected the first swing. Unfortunately, this undead trow was considerably faster than the others. Its left fist slammed into Joe's gut, sending a wave of paralysis radiating away from the contact point. As Joe's body locked up and he started to fall, he caught the creature's name, eliciting an agonized groan from his stiff lips.

Minor Ghoulish Major: Level 9: Undead(Ghoul): Leader: Vigor

If he could have moved, he might have facepalmed. All he could think was, 'Am I about to get pummeled by a bad dad pun, Hawking?'

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