“Hebo-Dij, what in the names of all the gods are you doing?” hissed Litah, the Elven cleric.
The Gnome rogue gave her his most disarming smile. Usually, it was enough to get him out of trouble, or at least delay trouble till he could escape. However, his friends were immune to his charm. Not that they disliked him, they had been through many adventures together, it’s just that they knew when he was full of it.
“We have a mission,” reminded Dymox, Axe-Hand.
“I know, I know,” replied Hebo-Dij, “But I think this falls under the purview of our quest.”
“Trying to break into a treasure room is not why we are here,” insisted Litah.
“Of course it is!” countered the Gnome, “After all, we are searching for an ancient tome of forbidden lore.”
“Which is why we should begin in the library!”
With a twirl of his mustache, Hebo-Dij countered, “Would you not agree that the Tome of the Outer Realms is extremely valuable?”
“Well, yeah,” said Dymox, Axe-Hand, “That’s why the alliance sent us to recover it.”
“Exactly, we’re the Dragon-Dogs, one of the most renowned adventuring parties in the Land!”
At the mention of their name, each roared.
“Though I am proud of our reputation but it is not germane to the current quest,” maintained the Elven Cleric.
“I’m gonna have to side with her on this,” added Dymox, Axe-Hand, “She’s usually right about this kinda thing.”
Leaning against the wall of carved, glowing orange stone, Hebo-Dij, said, “Listen, our rep is why we were chosen for this dangerous quest. We get the job done. Do you know why?”
“The gods themselves have blessed us?”
“We’re as tough true-steel?”
“Yes and yes. But also, we’re smart. Smart enough to know that the fell sorcerer whose lair we now explore, wouldn’t leave a highly dangerous volume of dark arcane secrets in his library like it was the latest Lady Thunderbolt book.”
“Ooo! I love those books, they made me want to go into adventuring,” said Dymox, Axe-Hand.
“Indeed! Her prose flows like the wind, before you know it, the tale is ended and you mourn till the next volume appears.”
“We all love those books! So great! But would you not agree that such a dangerous volume might not be hidden with other valuables?
Litah pondered this and replied, “You may be correct, but I believe we must be as thorough as possible.”
“Sure, sure. I mean, it’s not like time is an issue. No pressure.”
The Elven Cleric was heading to the upper levels when she stopped and turned back.
“Very well, you may be correct. How swiftly can you open the door?” she conceded.
“Oh, I already did that while we were chatting.”
“He is good,” said Dymox, Axe-Hand.
“Debatable,” said Litah.
With that, they entered the treasure room. There were, of course, traps and puzzles. There are always traps and puzzles. It has been debated amongst the very wise, that including puzzles as a part of your security system indicates that you perhaps want to have your valuables stolen. After all, if there is a solution to bypass the danger if you are clever enough, suggests an unspoken agreement of sportsmanship. Traps, however, mean that you do want to just straight-up murder anyone who tries to take your stuff. It is, at best, a mixed message.
For the record, here’s what they encountered.
1-They battled a giant mechanical millipede.
2-Answered a series of increasingly difficult riddles presented to them by what could only be described as a hyper-intelligent, astral badger.
4-Swung across a lake of acid on invisible ropes.
5-Dymox, Axe-Hand, cleaved a crystalline Chimera in half. (With his bare hands, hence his sobriquet)
6-Deciphered a wall of sliding hieroglyphics that finally opened the entrance to the final chamber.
Sitting in the center of a pile of gold coins, enchanted weapons, and gemstones was a pedestal on which the tome they had sought. It was heavy, bound with some sort of skin, and adorned with dark metal patterns. Malice radiated from it.
“We must be careful, such books often have a will of their own,” said Litah in a whisper.
“Agreed,” agreed Dymox, Axe-Hand.
“Would you look at all this treasure!” said Hebo-Dij with a wide grin.
“We are here to be heroes!” insisted Litah.
“Strictly speaking, we are adventurers,” the Rogue pointed out, “And it’s not the first time we’ve ‘acquired’ treasure.”
“Yeah, but we’re here to help save the Land. Feels wrong to profit off it,” said Dymox, Axe-Hand.
“Exactly!”
“If we take this treasure, we will be even bigger heroes!”
Litah closed her eyes and said in a controlled tone, that she did not feel, “How is looting this treasure heroic?”
“Glad you asked. First, it was by dint of our heroic actions that we stand here. Two, we are also taking that evil-looking book so the leaders of this war can end it quicker. Three, they fell sorcerer who hoarded all this, who was killed by the Abominations, didn’t accumulate it by hard work and prudent investment. Four, when we spend this gold, we will be supporting local merchants and aiding the wartime economy. Children will eat, jobs will be created, and so on. I say, if we do not take every single bit of this treasure, that would make us the villains!”
Litah and Dymox, Axe-Hand both sighed and looked at each other.
“Very well. I insist that we give half of the gold to the widows and orphans guild,” declared the Cleric.
“They have a guild now?”
“Indeed.”
“Good for them,” said the Rogue.
“It is. We will secure the tome while you collect the treasure in your bottomless satchel.”
“It’s actually called a bag of Ho-”
“Not the point!” said Litah, “Just gather it up.”
Hebo-Dij opened his bag and shoveled in the gold. And the enchanted weapons. Also the gemstones. He also discovered some intriguing etchings. This bag was the most useful thing he owned. Trust me, if you get the chance to get one of these, jump at it. Once done, he turned back to his companions and said, “I better take a look at that pedestal, might be one last nasty surprise in that.”
A flash of purple light occurred. Then standing where his two friends had been, there were statues. Cunning wrought stone likenesses of his companions. Or, they were turned to stone. Yeah, that’s what happened.
He looked at his now petrified friends and then at his satchel full of treasure. Decisions, decisions…
The Writings of Leo Byrne Jenicek 