The adventurers raced through the wastelands around Hell, closely followed by the bouncing, ravenous eyemouths. Rotcel ‘Loc was out of onion, and the trio was out of luck. All they could do was run and hope to lose the monsters somehow. Rotcel ‘Loc led her friends into a maze of tall dirt spires, threading through them with ease. They heard a dozen clunk-thunks as the fatter eyemouths hit the spires, toppling some but bouncing off others. There was a snap as one of the eyemouths bit another and then a squeal. Nobody looked back to see what was happening, they simply ran until they were once more alone. Then they ran some more. Nobody wanted to see another eyemouth ever again.

“We’re safe,” Nanoc said at last, gulping for air.

“Are we?” Rotcel ‘Loc demanded. “Because I’m about to kill you, gnome! You’ve brought us all the way to the wastes of Hell itself, with no plan to get out and—is that gold? Is it? Let me have it!”

Rotcel ‘Loc had seen a glimmer of yellow metal protruding from one of the spires. It was a large, flat coin. She drew a knife and dug the coin out. It was attached to a thick chain buried in the spire's dirt.

“Don’t do it,” Nanoc warned, too tired from all the running to tempt fate. “Don’t—”

“Treasure!” Rotcel ‘Loc breathed. “Come to me, my precious! Come to mamma Rotcel! Do you have any friends? Are they near? Yes, yes, tell me all about them…”

“Don’t do that,” Nanoc said.

It was no use.

“Do you know, she’s been struck by a terrible affliction,” Dren said with interest. “I do not think she can even hear you.”

It was true; the lizardling was suffering a sudden attack of treasure lust, and her whole mind was consumed by the thought of shiny, precious things. There was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

She pulled on the coin, dragging it out of the spire. The chain came with it. There was a whirling sound as the spire disintegrated. A cloud of choking grey dust filled the air, dirt and soil sliding away to reveal the upright remains of an enormous humanoid skeleton with a bird-like skull. The creature was wearing the remains of copper-plated armor, but the metal was stained and warped from decades of being buried in the ground. The titanic bird-person held a spear with a curved blade in one hand, a long dagger in the other.

“Wow,” Nanoc said, impressed. “I’ve never heard of a giant bird-person before.”

“What? This coin is copper!” Rotcel ‘Loc complained, her treasure lust suddenly broken by the sheer disappointment of her find. “Copper!”

She looked up, seeing the giant skeleton.

“Oh gods,” Rotcel ‘Loc groaned, backing away. “Why did I do that! It wasn’t even gold! Is that skeleton going to move? It is, isn’t it? They always do.”

They stared at the skeleton. It didn’t move. It looked dead in the conventional manner, giving every impression of a skeleton that was not planning to walk around much. Rotcel ‘Loc relaxed a little, the spikes on her head drooping. Perhaps she had spent too much time in dungeons and castles and had learned to expect the worst. She was overreacting. Not all dead bodies were cursed undead; some skeletons were just skeletons. Nanoc stood up, walked over, and poked the creature in its human-like knee. It did not respond.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Do you know, it’s quite dead,” Dren said confidently. “It’s easy to tell, really, the signs of death include—”

The skeleton lunged forward. Nanoc stepped to one side and used his trip hazard ability to shoot a banana peel under the skeleton’s bare feet. The undead monster slipped on the fruit, slid forward several yards, and fell backward with such force that its skull shattered, sending shards of bone and beak wheeling through the air.

“You were saying, Dren?” Rotcel ‘Loc asked sweetly. “About the clearest signs of death?”

“Do you know,” Dren said thoughtfully. “I think the clearest sign of death might be picking a fight with Nanoc.”

Nanoc bent down and picked up one of the skeleton’s massive femurs. He swung it like a baseball bat. It felt light in his hands, but strong.

----------------------------------------

Makeshift Weaponry ability activated!

New weapon: Boney Battle Basher!

This ancient femur makes an excellent club, and can also be used to play fetch with any giant dogs you might come across. How useful!

Bonus damage against the squeamish!

----------------------------------------

“I don’t even know what that creature was,” he said, a little sadly. “I didn’t have time to identify it, and now it’s dead. We’ll never fight it’s like again. Dren, what do you think it was?”

The field scholar was staring at the fallen skeleton’s ancient armor. Dren muttered a few words as he tried to read the signs carved into the aged leather, then bent down and traced his fingers over them. He pulled out a notebook and started taking notes.

“Dren?” Nanoc said at last. “You can’t study that thing for ever. We need to get moving."

The elf ignored him.

“Do you know, these bones are truly ancient, laying undisturbed since the Age of Mythology. What great secrets they must hold, what wonderful sights this creature must have seen. I could remain here, forever, to learn all these bones have to tell.”

Nanoc was less impressed. The gnome found archaeology dull. Even if Dren had learned all there was to know about these dusty old bones, all he would have learned was about dusty old bones. What was the point of that? Rotcel wasn’t pleased, either.

“It’s all copper,” she said as she picked over the skeleton’s body. “Not even a jewel or a drop of silver. Come on, scholar, there’s nothing here worth stealing.”

Dren stood, sighed, and tucked a little book away in his pocket.

“Oh, what great things I could achieve if I had infinite time and no friends,” the elven scholar said mournfully. “Alas, it would take me years to decipher these strange hieroglyphics. I can only draw them and hope others might find benefit. Woe am I, to be forever ignorant of—"

“Right,” Nanoc agreed amiably. “Woe is you, for sure. Well, come on, then.”

They could see all the way to the gates of Hell; it would take them hours to walk that far.

“Ah, by the heavens, that is too far,” Rotcel ‘Loc complained. “What monsters lie in wait for us? We will never make it.”

“At least our path is lit in silver moonlight,” Dren said, cheering up. Elves like walking by moonlight, even if there was no dancing involved. “That is a blessing indeed.”

A huge ball of silver light had appeared overhead, illuminating the cavern in soft shades of shinning grey. Nanoc had not even noticed it rising over the horizon. Something about the silverly orb seemed off to him, but he could not put his finger on what it was. It looked like a beautiful moon.

“Moon?” Rotcel ‘Loc asked, frowning. “That’s no moon!”

She was right; they were underground. The fake moon blinked, and its light was replaced with thousands of teeth as long as swords. It was an eyemouth, but a hundred times larger than any they had seen, and it was bounding towards them.

Rotcel ‘loc turned to run, although what was the point? The beast was sure to catch them. They wouldn’t even be a mouthful to it.

“Rotcel, did you happen to steal any other food?” Nanoc asked.

“There is no time for a last meal, Nanoc, but yes, I did steal a chicken leg or two.”

“Give it here,” Nanoc said as the giant eyemouth grew closer. “Dren, do you have any string? Yes, that will do, thank you.”

“What in the seven heavens are you doing?” Rotcel ‘Loc demanded as Nanoc tied the chicken leg to one end of the string and his Bone basher to the other end of the string.

“Don’t worry,” Nanoc said, flicking the bone around like it were a fishing rod. “I have a plan.”