So I punched him in the face.
I mean, what else was I gonna do?
Here I was, severed leg in one hand, vial of healing in the other, and this midget goes and cold clocks the guy.
“He ain’t feeling any pain now.” the halfling Ranger, Lyric smirked.
My fists felt the need to return the favor.
Preggers back at town was looking for her father-of-her-unborn-child-turned-graverobber and this guy on the ground was the ticket, now sans one leg thanks to Roadblocks patented “axe first, axe questions later” policy.
Long story short, we get back to town and Gimpy McLegless spills his guts about the whole operation. Eight guys and a witch, sounds like the perfect premise for Saturday Night Theatre, minus the laughs (but hey, let’s face it, it hasn’t been funny for the last ten years anyway, but I digress).
Robes seemed vaguely concerned about the witch, but we decided to sally forth all the same.
So here we are back at it again getting down with the cryptness, when we’re blocked by what could only be described as a huge… block… of stone.
I think we may have set the realm record for poking around a big-ass block of stone, after which our spastic wood elf barbarian started smashing the stone with his big-ass maul like it was the end of a Ozzy Ozbard performance. I’m glad he got that out of his system.
100 feet of stone pushing later, our merry band of misfits reveals a door to the rest of the dungeon – which then connected to an underground burial chamber.
And this, my friends, is when it all hit the fan.
Imagine, if you will, a honeycomb of chambers, each with their own chewy-center of a black mausoleum capped with a white door. Foreboding enough for you? Now add two frozen withered grave robber husks as the cherry on top and now we’re talking the real deal, which is most certainly what was about to happen next.
In another life, the wood elf’s alignment must have been chaotic trouble (or maybe that was just this life?). After a brief moment of reflection upon the delicate situation before us, the barbarian decided he was late to his “Hulk Smash” party.
The horrified, wrinkled, deathtouched face of one of the grave robber husks collapsed under the weight of his boot – at which time piercing screams erupted from the black building in the center of the room and three shadowy apparitions came into being before us.
Robes looked a touch nervous, so I decided to stay by him as he pulled back from the fray.
A quick head count left us minus one barbarian. Nothing like lighting the dynamite and not sticking around for the big boom.
Long story short, I somehow manage to down one of the incorporeal bitches before they eat part of my soul and we ran like hell.
Not going to lie, the whole “getting your soul eaten”? Would not buy again. It basically left me as half the man I used to be.
We setup camp at the mouth of the tomb and tried to get a few winks in before the inevitable wondering monster attack.
Low and behold, I didn’t know that said wondering monster would be the impy bastard that basically brought us here in the first place – but THIS time, we were ready.
From the outside, it must have looked like a giant white mushroom cloud.
We each threw our choice of flour or talcum into the air of the small room we were huddled in, revealing the invisible little mongrel before he darted outside.
Lyric gave chase only to find a small puddle-turned-white-paste that the varmint must have used to wash off.
(I GOT FIVE MORE BAGS ASSHOLE)
Rested and recuperated, we delved – this time with 100% more “mad-dash-past-the-wraiths”, leading us through a secret door into a royal throne room filled with puzzle-y type goings on.
Clockwork cat? Check. Undead Queen? Check. Elemental Evils? Check.
“Greetings Adventurers” the undead queen croaked. “My husband was a grave robber… blah blah blah… you can have the treasure if you live… yadda yadda yadda”
I mean, it was nice that she didn’t just vaporize us on the spot, but who does this?
I mean, crazy bitch all down here with her mechanical cat just chilling on her throne, been dead for gods know how long, tellin everybody “take whatever you want” like setting a bowl of sweets out for All Hallows Eve. Not to mention the fact that she’s just chillin with what looks to be four urns of primordial evil incarnate.
So what do I do faced with this situation?
I bowed respectfully and tried to get a new bodyguard gig.