Chapter Thirty Five: Opal-oompah
Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. Warwick was frantic about not having his new maul on hand, until Denton pointed out to him that the place was lousy with Wizards. This made Zuglah realize that he was still dressed in doublet and hose. And shoes! After Chayah gave him a quick hug for luck, he rushed through the portal, sat down, and began worrying at one of the shoe knots. The cursed things were a struggle to remove, every damned time.
He put his Sea Striders on, and his ring of Detection. When Zuglah pulled Redda Mo out of his Bag of Holding, the runestick complained bitterly about the pair of daggers that he was sporting. He did his best to reassure Redda that the daggers were strictly ceremonial, and that he much preferred bashing people’s heads.
Denton came through with him, and Pliesson and Randall also. The Driole looked anxious, and with furtive gestures he motioned Zuglah away from the portal where they could talk freely.
“I must say, I certainly never expected this. I’m so relieved, but I feel like a coward. What I mean to say is, you don’t plan on going through with it now, do you? Operation Lofty Tomato?”
“Of course he doesn’t.” Pliesson flinched when Denton clapped him on the shoulder. Zuglah hoped that his friend never had to endure the same from Caldwell’s colleague Boland. His clap felt hard enough to make extra work for the blacksmith. “We’re going to crush this dungeon.”
Randall was standing among them, listening. When they noticed him, the others both fell silent. Zuglah said, “Randall, you don’t have to go anywhere with Fenne, if you don’t want to. We can stop her from taking you.”
Denton laughed, despite himself. “We can? Zuglah, perhaps you didn’t get a good enough look at them through the haze, but those were stone killers. Even Gamstone and Slorric were looking meek, and I know that both of them have been to Guo Nono.” He paused for a moment, unsure of himself for the first time Zuglah had ever seen. “I talked to my Commander, Zuglah. He said that there are Trolls there. Strong ones. But no villages. He said he would know if there were. But they are getting new blood from somewhere, and it’s too much to come from Malgros. So he figures maybe they’ve found a pocket somewhere on another Plane.”
Zuglah wasn’t crazy about Denton talking about his concerns in front of Randall, but only because he didn’t want Fenne to catch on. He wished like hell that he knew what their agenda was. Could they have designs of their own on the King’s favorite daughter? Were they acting on behalf of King Dewey, or some other interested party? But wouldn’t that be betraying their royal blood? He wished that he had a Bean of their thoughts…
The portal winked twice, and finally Warwick and Gamstone were there. The Half Elf rolled his eyes. “Lieber Cant is giving a speech. Telling everyone not to judge us too harshly, because he might have made this dungeon too difficult. He said we probably wouldn’t even get past the first Guardian.”
“He’s just excited about his new dungeon.” Denton wasn’t bothered by braggarts, having dealt with bullies all his life. “There is a good reason why he waited until we were gone to give it. He was afraid of properly motivating us. Well I, for one, am motivated.”
Denton pulled a small leather purse from underneath his jerkin and tossed it to Wizard Gamstone. “If anyone is laying wagers, you let them know which way we are betting. All the way to the end.” Everyone agreed, and fumbled around in their various pockets. Within moments, Gamstone had better than twelve gold and thirty five silver pieces for their wager. Even Randall sheepishly tossed in ten silver pieces.
The huge, square-shaped Wizard hefted their purse and nodded. He admonished them against embarrassing their teacher, saying that it was always going to be an uphill struggle. This was the nature of conflict, and what they would hereafter spend their lives seeking. He talked briefly about the Ascended Races; The Pank, The Dragonkin, The High Elves. That probably did more to inspire them than anything Lieber Cant could have said, for or against. Zuglah wanted very badly to ask him more about The Pank, but he had so much on the fire already.
The lanterns around the rim of the Cauldron did not spring to life, but rather they began with a soft yellow glow that slowly brightened. There was a soft trilling sound from somewhere, the opening bars of music played on some delicate flute or pipe. As the lights came up, the music quickly swelled into a fanfare that bounced around the immense cavern. At that, Gamstone bade them good fortune and stepped back through his portal.
Warwick had a new buff that he was excited to apply to the whole party. Zuglah felt a strange tightening behind his eyes, a sharpness of focus. As Denton lined everyone up, Zuglah felt his pulse quicken. He now realized that he had been very much looking forward to this.
The platform led them into the original landing, the only bit of the dungeon’s floor that was technically visible from the observation deck. As he looked ahead, Zuglah was very surprised to see a flat red and white marble walkway stretching across a black sea of crystal. From above, the path looked thin and steep, barely wide enough for one person to climb to the top, and probably forced to slide down the other slope. The ominous opening to the Cauldron was only accessible by this lone pathway.
While Zuglah had offered to be the first to cross, Denton had refused. Everyone agreed that the bridge was very likely bushwhacked or booby trapped in some way. “Well at least take this.” He held out Watch Yer Ankles! in the palm of his hand, having retrieved it from the Bag of Holding. He also had the chainmail coif, The Intractable Helm. He thought that both of these things might be handy.
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“He can’t. Not without risking The Cackles. I keep him buffed right to the eyeballs.” Zuglah wasn’t surprised, but it did little to mollify him. He slipped the ring onto his own finger, feeling it adjusting itself to his finger size immediately. He wondered how it worked.
Denton, as bold as ever, stepped directly onto the red marble bridge, an entire flagstone wide and thick enough to give him confidence. Immediately, the rocks and rubble casually strewn about in the middle of the pathway began to vibrate. Zuglah could hear sand running somewhere. Upon is second step, the smaller rocks had begun to slide towards the larger ones. A couple, he now saw, were almost the size of a torso. Maybe even a bit larger.
By the time there was enough room for Warwick and Zuglah to step onto the pathway, the larger rocks started shifting as well. Pliesson and Randall came almost together, and when they did, a tall, blue wall of fire roared to life directly behind them. Pliesson showed a surprising turn of strength and a decidedly low center of gravity as he barreled into the back of Zuglah’s legs and swept him onto the Driole’s back. As one, they plowed into the back of Warwick, where Pliesson struck hard and fell back. Zuglah untangled himself and quickly struggled to his feet.
“Don’t worry Zuggy,” Redda Mo said loudly. “I don’t think more than forty people saw that.”
Pliesson had a scorch mark down the back of his trousers, but Warwick told him he was fine in a huff. Denton was looking at them, annoyed. “Could one of you Wizards kindly tell me what that is, please?”
The pile of rocks was… assembling itself into the shape of a giant, rough humanoid. The creature wore a hard white outer shell that reflected odd colors that didn’t seem to be present in the room. Purple, ochre, green and yellow all swirled together and reflected from the white shell. The proto humanoid wore it like armour, across his chest, and down his arms and legs in plates. Zuglah cast Identify. Cleric, Tier Six, Half Elf.
“If I had to guess,” Randall said slowly, “it’s probably a Stone Golem. Slow, hits are lethal, swords are almost useless. The problem is that Pearlescent Armor reflects magic. So Warwick, why don’t you take your hammer and crack that shell off for us?”
Warwick hoisted his maul up onto his shoulder and contemplated the Golem. Every time Denton took another step towards it, the creature stepped towards them. It seemed completely inanimate, showed no reaction or interest in them other than meeting them in the exact middle of the bridge. Zuglah was looking for cracks in the white luminescent armor, wanting a way to prove useful once they met.
Warwick had offered to trade weapons with Denton, lending him his mighty hammer, but the Fighter replied that he wouldn’t be responsible for the Half Elf lopping his own foot off. They moved slowly forward, their every sense probing for signs of ambush. Being the first ones into any dungeon was treacherous, much less one where the Dungeon Master was thinking about them by name.
When they were little more than a quarter of the way across the bridge, Warwick tugged on his arm to stop him. “Give him some room.” Zuglah nodded and stopped. He knew how Denton liked to jump around when he fought, and with this setup it was mostly going to be back and forth. Zuglah glanced behind him, to make sure that Pliesson wasn’t going to run into him again. The blue sheet of flame still blazed hotly.
When he turned back, Denton had drawn his sword. He was crouched, tense and braced behind his shield, even though the creature hadn’t made any action other than match their distance from the center. Without taking his eyes from the creature, he said loudly, “Absolutely no spells until we crack that armor off. That includes prayers, Warwiick. I won’t be surprised if this thing is a mage buster. Use your hammer.”
“I say we should attack the right leg. You always say, mobility first.” Warwick was hefting his huge hammer, and Zuglah readied his runestick. He hoped that the heavy, iron-shod heel of the staff would be effective against the opal carapace. He measured the distance, memorizing the spot on the huge boulder creature’s leg stone, right where it touched the bottom of the torso. He could not make out how exactly the two were connected.
Every time Denton took a half step forward, Zuglah had to restrain himself from stepping as well. He felt as though his mana was boiling inside him, on the verge of bubbling over and spilling fire and lightning all around. He needed to do something.
Finally, Denton found his range. With no warning, he went straight into motion, his lead foot sliding forward an extra two feet, somehow. He lashed out, thrusting the tip of his sword twice into the sheer white rock. At the same moment, the stone creature pivoted oddly around the middle, spinning in a blurring fashion that brought both fists to bear in rapid succession. The first one caught Denton flush on the forehead, and the second one glanced off of his shield, barely missing his left ear by luck. The Fighter staggered backwards, shaking his head. Zuglah thought if he had been punched like that, his head would have imploded. He barely stopped himself from rushing forward.
As he stumbled back, Denton took on a silver glow as he shook his head and shoulders like a wet dog. “I’m fine,” he snapped. But it was too late.
The stone construct slowly, deliberately oriented what should have been it’s face towards their Cleric. It vibrated, then it rumbled. In an instant it was moving at blinding speeds, passing Denton easily somehow, and smashing full on into Warwick.
The Priest was wearing The Intractable Helm, which Zuglah was immensely grateful that the man had agreed to take. It allowed him to somehow withstand the onrushing creature, standing shocked as it rebounded, stunned. Denton’s shout brought him back, and he swung the maul down off of his shoulder. It connected with the thing, but not on the leg they had been targeting. It caught the construct directly on the chest, connecting with a crack! that could be heard throughout the Cauldron.
Denton was behind the construction, vainly trying to get the creature’s attention. He rained blows down upon its head and shoulders, its back and legs to no avail. Zuglah slammed the butt of Redda Mo into the hairline crack in the creature’s chest over and over, but it would not budge. Warwick snarled, gritted his teeth and hammered it again with his maul.
And during all of this, two stone pillars hewn down to the shape of shoulders and elbows and fists, rose and fell. They dropped, one after the other, inexorably hammering Warwick into the marble. The first blow, he valiantly responded with the hammer. The second, drove him to his knees. The third and final strike smashed into him head and shoulders, and when the stone fist rose again, he lay unmoving.
The creature slowly turned to orient itself upon Denton as he furiously hammered upon it. As soon as it was out of reach, Zuglah knelt down in front of the Priest, pulling the cork from a Heal. He didn’t bother to turn Warwick’s head, or open his mouth; he simply poured the entire vial directly into his ear. There was no flash of light, no magical absorption. It merely pooled.
Warwick was quite dead.