Huh. He just out and out admitted he was trying to break in my trunk. Probably a punchline of some kind was coming.
“Is there a point, Snidely, other than that you're a thief?”
He smirked back at me. “Well Enochi, I happen to be watching when we pulled into Beetle Juice. It was very impressive how you managed to get them to not inspect your trunk.”
I frowned. “How so? They didn’t inspect either trunk.”
“But I ordered them not to inspect mine. You tricked them into thinking I had two trunks.”
“I didn’t do anything things except pull off the tarp, Snidely. They made an assumption. Should I have begged them to please open my trunk? I noticed you didn't volunteer.”
“Very glib, Enochi. Tell you what, since it's all so innocent, why don't you open your trunk for me.”
“You first.”
“My truck,” he said haughtily, “is not under suspicion.”
“Neither is mine, dumb ass. Meanwhile, I found you trying to break into my property, which gives me the right to defend it, so here's the thing.” I stepped up until my beak was right up against his. “If I catch you trying that, or anything similar again, I will rip off your head and shit down your neck. We clear?”
Snidely stepped back, clearly not prepared for the level of implied violence I was projecting.
“I will tell the captain you threaten me.”
“I will tell the captain you are a thief. I wonder which one of us will be tossed off the boat.”
He glared for a few more seconds, then turned and stalked off. But I knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
17. Trolling for Treasure
Bill
August 2334
Virt, Pits of Payback
The troll lay at my feet, sliced in two, the haves neatly cauterized. I cleaned my sword - carefully - and re-sheathed it. I’d gotten the flame blade and some enchanted armor in exchange for the Staff of Fireballs and most of my portion of Gar's horde. It had been a fair trade, in that both myself and Saruman the Wise claimed we'd been fleeced. Still, neither of us backed out of the deal.
Our dungeon party was currently creeping along a dark hallway in the Pits of Payback. When asked about the name, the current DM would only smile mysteriously and say that all would be made clear at the conclusion of the campaign. Which probably meant a bad pun or something was in our future.
Kevin was back, has his original character, having left behind just enough identifiable pieces to allow a resurrection. Gandalf had used one of his scrolls after taking all of Kevin's remaining worldly goods in payment. Kevin seemed to have finally gotten over the loss of his staff, thankfully. I hadn't been subjected to any more glares, at least. Tim, who hadn’t left anything but floating ash, was back. As a first level thief. He was staying in the center of the group until he leveled up enough to not be killed by an inadvertent sneeze.
Vern, Pete, and I provided the muscle and sharp implements. So far, we'd been able to handle the encounters, but the increasing difficulty sent a pretty clear message that we were getting close to the payoff. Gandalf strode along just behind me, acting like the king of the mountain. I hoped his talents matched up to his attitude. He was remarkably closemouthed about his actual abilities and assets.
“That was a troll,” Tim said unnecessarily. We turned to look at him.
“And?” Vern said.
“Pretty hefty monster for this level of dungeon,” Tim answered. “If not for Bills flame blade, I'm not sure we’d have been able to take it down. Not without losing another player or two, anyway.”
I looked back in the direction of the troll carcass. Tim was right. I’d gotten too used to being able to cleave just about anything with one swipe. But trolls were, generally speaking, more than a handful.
“Are you suggesting we’re being set up?” Gandalf asked. “Anyone made any enemies lately?”
I glanced at Kevin, who gazed back at me innocently. That was a long shot, anyway. If Kevin was that sensitive about losing treasure, he'd never make it as a Gamer.
Everyone else was looking around at everything and nothing as they considered their own recent past.
“There’s a secret door here.”
We all turned at Tim's comment. He was poking at a random section of wall.
“You sure?”
“It's about the only thing I'm good for,” Tim replied. “Why do you think I picked this character class?”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Let's see if we can crack this.”
We all started poking, twisting, pushing, lifting, and pulling every protuberance in the area. A few seconds later, a door opened with the typical stone-grinding sound effect, revealing a pitch-black tunnel.
“That looks dark,” Tim said. “And cramped.” He pulled a copper piece out of a pocket and tossed it into the blackness. There was a dull thump, followed by a metallic tinkle.
“Uh, yeah, something’s in there. Anyone get a light spell? Or a flashlight?”
We needn't have bothered. Whether we woke it up with the coin toss, or it simply decided it had lost to the element of surprise, the demon hound charged out of the tunnel, straight at Vern.
He, a battle-hardened fearless half-dwarf warlord, went rigid with fear. Seriously. The hound knocked him over like hitting an inflatable Bozo the Clown. Apparently, the hound had been expecting more resistance than Bozo had been able to deliver. It continued on in its trajectory, speed unabated, and fetched up against the far wall with a loud thump. The hound made an oddly human “oof” noise and slid down the wall to land in a heap.
Pete, who hadn't gone rigid, took the opportunity to impale the beast before it could get up. As the light went out of the hound’s eyes Pete smiled and said “About time I got a good kill-”
The second demon hound hit him at neck height, taking his head clean off.
“Shit!” his head said as
