“Shaat’maz,” Tire exclaimed, holding his snap-together rifle close to his chest. “Iz like Khaar Niianu kech.”
“What does that even mean?” Aaron asked as he turned to the goblin. The dwarf quickly shot out his hand, halting Tire’s advance into the mansion. “Whoa! Whoa! Hold on there, goblin. Cops will be here, and they will look for evidence. We don’t need to add a pair of goblin feet to the mix of bloody footprints covering this place.”
Tire froze with one foot in the air, staring at Aaron in confusion. With the mention of cops, the goblin frowned and put his foot down. The goblin responded with a mumbled explicative but did not enter the mansion.
The trio stood in the entryway of the mansion belonging to the Alpha Numeros gang boss. This was the same boss for whom Tommy worked and who had requested Tommy to find the cursed gnome. Tommy stared at the open doors and the blood smeared across the walls, the doorframe, and the trail that led inside the mansion, down the hall, and around a corner. Tommy breathed deeply, attempting to collect his thoughts. “I never should have taken on this job. I never should have left.”
“Hey,” Aaron punched Tommy’s arm. “Frag the slag. You hired an investigator, right? So, let’s get in there and find out what happened.”
Tommy smiled down at Aaron. “Thanks, brother.”
Aaron nodded and turned to the front doors. “So, judging by what I see, this blood isn’t exactly fresh, but it isn’t old either. The slag happened earlier today and long enough ago where it is doubtful the perpetrator isn’t still around.”
“Impressive.”
“Investigative. I’m only guessing from color and possible consistency. I’d need some real investigative work to get a more accurate assessment, but I don’t want to mess with the scene and provide a means for the cops to pin anything on me.”
“Right,” Tommy craned his head, looking around the doorframe. “I should be able to jump over the blood and into the house. What about you? Want me to toss you inside?”
“No!” Tire exclaimed, waving his hand. “No tossez the dwarvz! Youz ruin the Luckiez!”
“What?” Asked Tommy.
“Iz bad luck to throw dwarvz—everyone knowz theez.”
“For the love of chalcedony,” Aaron buried his face in his hand. “Not this again.”
“Luckiez good and bad,” The goblin continued. “Good Luckiez getz goldz and moniez. None wantz to knowz what Bad Luckiez getz.”
Aaron snapped his fingers, getting Tires’ attention. “Look, goblin—”
“Tirez Slashez.”
“Tires, whatever. Look, I am the dwarf. I decide what’s good luck and bad. If I say it won’t change luck when my friend here throws me, it won’t change.”
The goblin shook his head. “That iz not hows Luckiez workz.”
“Fetid fluorite. I’m not dealing with this blasted dolomite. Tommy! Toss me.”
“Hold on, buddy,” Tommy spoke calmly.
“Oh no,” Aaron’s eyes burned with anger behind his darkly shaded spectacles. “Don’t you start buying into this coprolite nonsense, too.”
“Just hear me out. I don’t really believe in this luck stuff, but I could use anything right now. I know we don’t have a luck stat between us, but could we just try?”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Aaron started to pace but stopped when he realized he was about to step into a smear of blood. “Blasted andradite! I can’t jump that far.”
“No,” Tommy thought while looking across the patio. “But you could climb through one of these windows.”
“That’s messing with the scene, Tommy. You want bad luck? Because messing with a crime scene is about as real as bad luck gets.”
“I’ll be careful,” Tommy said, positioning himself for the long jump. “We’re spending too much time out here as it is.”
Aaron glowered at Tires as Tommy got himself ready for the jump. Tirez smiled back up at Aaron with a broad, sharp-toothed grin.
The large bronze elf squatted slightly, kicked back his leg, and took off in a short sprint. He leaped over the swathe of blood diagonally and pivoted his body in midair to avoid hitting the doorframe. He successfully landed inside the mansion, his feet sliding a short way across the marbled tile floor as he easily kept his balance.
Aaron frowned as Tommy gave him a thumbs up and quickly moved out of sight to one of the nearby rooms. The dwarf impatiently waited for Tommy to open a window and glowered again at the goblin by his side.
The goblin did not notice Aaron as he quietly hummed a discordant tune while inspecting different fixtures on his rifle.
Latches could be heard being unlatched behind one of the windows next to the front doors. Then the window was opened, and Tommy poked his head out. “All good. Come on inside.”
Tires and Aaron quickly moved and climbed inside the front patio window. Once inside, Aaron used the bottom of his trenchcoat to wipe down the window ledge and remove any fingerprints left by their entry.
“This way,” Tommy whispered, motioning the others to follow him.
“Why are you whispering?” Aaron asked in a whisper.
“In case the ones who did this are still here.” Tommy walked out of the room and followed the blood trail down a wide hall.
“Why do you think anyone would still be here?” Aaron asked, walking behind Tommy carefully.
“Because, they didn’t get me.”
It was a sobering statement that hit Aaron unexpectedly. However, it did make some sense. Whoever wanted to take out the Alpha Numeros would not want to leave defiant, high-ranking members to wander the streets for revenge.
The hall led to a vast, open room designed for entertaining guests and holding large parties. Some of the furniture looked of plush, high-quality material. Other pieces of furniture lay broken, scattered, torn, and marred with blood. It was a chaotic sight that showed the fight extended partly to this location and may have ended in this room. Aaron quickly got to work on identifying the pieces of the case at hand.
Aaron – Investigation skill 3 vs. Normal DT – FAILURE
“Blasted depths!” Aaron exclaimed as failure scrolled past his vision.
“What’s the problem?” Tommy asked.
“I failed my investigation roll. Figuring out what happened here will be arduous—at least until I can roll the skill again.”
Tommy hummed acknowledgment as he carefully moved across the room, looking for clues regarding his boss or the boss’ family.
A low, guttural chuckle was heard from the far side of the room. The wall on that side of the room was a large bar that was once full of a variety of liquors, aperitifs, garnishments, and glasses; now, it was a mess of spilled liquor and shattered glass, with only a few bottles on the display shelf being intact. Aaron narrowed his eyes when he spotted one intact bottle that contained a silky brown liquid. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but he was quite sure that it was Dwarven whiskey distilled from the Core.
Beside the bar was a doorway to a kitchen in the back; its door was broken in pieces scattered across the floor. Tommy growled as he recognized the dark laughter coming from the kitchen. “Get out here, Yolo! I know you’re in there.”
“Oh, Tommy,” The troll’s voice replied from the kitchen. It was a deep, dark voice that came from a place of malice and death metal. “Why did it take you so long to come back?”
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Aaron’s eyes darted from the whiskey to the kitchen doorway. He desperately tried to split his attention between the liquor on the top shelf and the voice in the kitchen. He cursed the bartender, whoever that was, for placing such a fine liquor on the highest shelf of the bar. They obviously did not know the proper placement for good dwarven liquor.
“What did you do, Yolo.” It was an accusation, not a question. Tommy’s fists were clenched, his muscles tensed, his face set and ready for the troll.
“I told you, elf, you should have stayed in prison.”
“Get out here and face me, troll.”
Another deep guttural laugh came from inside the kitchen doorway. Aaron moved to the side and a little closer to the bar to have a slight flanking advantage when the troll came out and a better view of the whiskey on the top shelf. It was definitely dwarven whiskey. It looked like Whistlehammer’s mark on the bottle—that’s a fine distillery that’s been producing high-quality whiskey for generations. Aaron took a few steps closer to see the year on the bottle.
“Poor, Tommy.” The troll goaded the elf. “Poor, weak little elf. You and your kind should have died on the island you came from.”
“Come out here and say that to my face.”
“Rugatz, khaar’duur!” Tires spat as he aimed his rifle at the kitchen door from behind a broken couch. “Wherez mez moniez?”
The troll yawned loudly as movement could be heard from within the kitchen. “I don’t understand the purpose of these kitchens.”
“Get out here, Yolo,” Tommy called out. “Tell me what happened here.”
Aaron took a few steps closer to the bar but still could not see the age of the dwarven whiskey.
“Kitchens ruin the taste of food.” A pot was heard clanging to the floor as the troll continued to move around, unseen in the kitchen. “They prevent you from eating food how it was meant to be consumed.”
Tommy quickly assessed their surroundings, looking for traps or some trick Yolo may have laid, but he saw nothing. The elf waved for Aaron’s attention, but the dwarf did not see Tommy waving.
“You know how food should be consumed, right, little elf?”
The troll’s voice was clearer, yanking Tommy’s attention back to the kitchen doorway. A large, clawed hand grasped the doorway, followed by a massive head that ducked down to fit through the doorway, allowing the greasy, tangled made of dreaded hair to fall and sway as the rest of the troll’s massive body squeezed through the doorway. Once through the door, the troll stood to his full height, nearly a foot taller than Tommy and much wider in girth. A pair of thick, clawed fingers worked a bone shard between the troll’s sharp, ragged teeth like a toothpick. The troll's face was like a cross between an orc and an alligator. His wicked snout cast a deep, dark smile upon Tommy, and his eyes glistened as he spoke. “Food should be eaten fresh, right after the kill.”
“Where’s the boss,” Tommy demanded.
Aaron inched a little closer, keeping an eye on the massive troll while trying to see the whiskey’s age.
“The boss was weak,” The troll laughed while raising his hands to their surroundings. “He had grown soft in this lavish comfort.”
“Shaat’maz!” Tires yelled out from the back of the room. “Wherez mez moniez?”
“Where’s the boss!” Tommy demanded
“I am the boss!” Yolo yelled back. His deep, dark voice felt like it echoed through the large room. The troll took the bone shard from his mouth and flicked it toward Tommy, who deftly caught it. “Here. If you need to save your old boss, you can save that.”
Tommy stared at the splinter of bone in his hand, the last remaining piece of his boss. The elf squeezed the bone shard tightly in his fist as anger evolved to rage—rage that he could not confront his boss, rage at the betrayal of Yolo, and rage at his failure to protect the boss and his family. The fire of his ancestors welled deep, like a roiling volcano ready to erupt, as the island elf began to chant and move with the motions required to activate his firey Ailoa Afi ward.
Yolo grinned with wicked gluttony. “Elf meat always tastes best when it puts up a fight.” The troll dashed forward with a speed that rivaled his size.
Aaron – Investigation skill 7 vs. Normal DT – SUCCESS
Time slowed in that instant as the dwarf’s Investigation skill activated. The bottle of whiskey did not highlight, but rather, something flashed in the corner of his vision. Aaron looked and saw the thing that flashed; a hypodermic flying into the air behind Yolo. It was the same sort of hypodermic Aaron had used earlier in the day when he needed… His eyes opened wide as Aaron turned to yell at Tommy, “It’s a boost! The troll’s boosted!”
Before Tommy could finish his Ailoa Afi chant, Yolo was on top of the elf, delivering a thunderous punch to the elf’s chest. The impact broke Tommy’s concentration and sent the elf flying back, crashing through a table and tumbling into a broken chair. Tommy gasped and coughed as he struggled to stand and get the wind back in his lungs.
“Shaat’maz chaat’oor!” Tirez screamed as he fired off two shots from his rifle. "Lok'tar!"
Yolo growled as the rounds pierced his shoulder and side. Yet the troll seemed unphased by the bullets. He turned his attention to the goblin. “I hate goblin meat. But I will make exceptions.”
The goblin fired another round, but Yolo dodged the shot and swiped a tremendous clawed hand at the couch Tires was hiding behind. The goblin somersaulted back to avoid being tossed with the couch. He aimed, ready to fire another round, but Yolo was already on the little goblin.
With one hand, the troll seized the goblin’s rifle. A squeeze of that hand broke the rifle to pieces. With the other hand, Yolo seized the goblin. A squeeze of that hand and the goblin’s eye began to bugle from his skull.
“Niianu Mular’duur,” Tires breathlessly prayed with a lolling tongue as he weakly flailed in the troll’s grasp.
“Let him go.” Tommy stood, injured but upright. He moved in a stance, ready to fight.
“Would you like to save this little morsel, too?” Yolo grinned wickedly, his sharp, crooked teeth on full display. He held the dying goblin out at arm’s length. “Come, little elf. Show me you’ll save this thing. Show me how you would have saved your precious boss.”
Yolo squeezed tighter. Tires’ eyes bulged, and the skin on his face tightened as if he would burst from the pressure of Yolo’s grip.
Tommy switched his footing. Yolo was too fast; the elf knew he couldn’t make it in time to save the goblin—still, he had to try. He switched his footing again, keeping Yolo on edge. The elf prepared to sprint, praying to the ancestors for a miracle. Then, a shot rang from a long-bore pistol out across the room.
Aaron (Crackshot) vs. Yolo – 10 vs. 9 Aaron succeeds.
The side of the troll’s head suddenly exploded from the impact of a 0.450 caliber round. The troll staggered backward, holding his head, and dropped the goblin. Tires fell like a green bag of flesh and bones as he hit the floor with a wet thud.
Tommy sprinted and snatched up Tires before Yolo could step on the little goblin, then ran for cover behind a nearby divider. “Nice shot, buddy!”
“Thanks!” Aaron responded from behind the bar. Seeing the threat of death stumbling around the other side of the room helped keep the dwarf’s focus in check. He cocked the hammer of his hand cannon and took aim. “I’ve got one round left.”
Suddenly, the troll turned and sprinted for Aaron. The speed of the troll, despite only having half a face, was incredible and threw off the dwarf’s aim. Aaron leaped away from the bar as the troll charged through.
Aaron (Dodge) vs. Yolo – 6 vs. 6 No success.
The dwarf did not know if he was clipped by the troll or the debris from the bar, but something turned his leaping dodge into an uncontrolled spin that slammed him against a nearby wall. Aaron rolled about and righted himself against the wall. He saw the troll had plowed through the bar, leaving a sizeable broken gap of wood and glass shards. The dwarf stared in awe as he tried to comprehend what skill would allow the troll to do this sort of damage.
The troll extricated himself from the wall of broken display shelves and shattered bottles. Yolo was a bleeding mess with bent metal, large splinters of wood, and jagged shards of glass protruding from his body. The half of Yolo’s that was not intact still had a cracked skull with a large, wicked smile. The other half of the troll’s face, which still had skin, was frowning with resentment. Yolo’s voice was darker than oil. “I hate dwarves.”
“Yeah, suck on sulfur, you overgrown coprolith.” Aaron aimed his hand cannon.
A portal opened beside the dwarf, and Jackie poked her head out. “Aaron, Tommy, time’s up. We’ve got to—” Jackie paused as she surveyed the room. “What in the Mother has happened here?”
Aaron glanced at Yolo, who looked at Jackie’s head poking out the portal. Yolo charged.
“Close the portal!” Aaron yelled as he shoved Jackie’s face back into the rift.
The portal closed, and Yolo charged through the empty space. Aaron unsuccessfully dodged the troll’s charge and was kicked off to the side, once again being slammed into a wall. The dwarf righted himself, though with a little more effort, as the troll put a large hole in the wall.
Yolo pulled free of the wall and turned to face Aaron. “You think you can just leave that easily?”
Aaron scrambled behind the remains of the bar that still stood, keeping something between him and the troll. “Yeah, something like that. I was really hoping to fix the other half of your face first, though.”
Yolo laughed, dark and malicious.
As the troll laughed, Aaron noticed the troll’s skull was no longer cracked. Muscle, sinew, and skin were steadily growing back, healing the damage that had been taken by Aaron’s 0.450. “Oh, fukalite,” Aaron muttered.
“Aaron, buddy!” Tommy yelled from the other end of the room. He held a long metal rod and stood ready for a fight.
Yolo glanced at Tommy, grinned, and charged.
Aaron leaped, but not toward Tommy. Instead, the dwarf leaped for the broken display shelves in the opposite direction of Tommy. Yolo, suspecting Aaron would run for Tommy, had fallen for the bait and charged where Aaron was not. The troll plowed past the standing remnants of the bar and into another wall. As the troll extricated himself from the wall, Aaron sprinted to Tommy.
Another portal opened beside Aaron as he ran. “What in the burning forest—!” Jackie’s voice cut off as she closed the portal and re-opened it further ahead. “Get your dumbasses in here. Now!”
Yolo was out of the wall and watching them with dark eyes from the opposite side of the room.
Tommy gathered up Tire and rushed into Jackie’s portal. Aaron followed closely behind. Standing on the other side of Jackie’s portal, they could hear Yolo’s dark, maligned laughter.
“Run, little elf, run.” Yolo’s face was nearly restored. “I will feast on you soon enough.”
“Go feast on a blasting cap!” Aaron yelled back.
Yolo took the vintage bottle of Whistlehammer’s whiskey off the top shelf. It was the last bottle that had not been shattered. “And you, dwarf.” The troll shattered the bottle of dwarven whiskey against the wall, then pointed at Aaron with the broken top half.
“No!” Aaron cried out in anguish.
Yolo’s smile did not waiver. “I will feast on you while you still live.”
Jackie’s portal closed as the troll spoke into an intercom on the wall. “Get Castor and the reliquary. We will end the hunt for this cursed gnome and prepare for a new feast.”