Tired Of Death

Mrs. Beholder glared at them, something Beholders are well equipped to do. She opened her mouth again but Dreth raised a thin finger to forestall her.

"Excellent!" he beamed, subtly forcing Darkblood down into its sheath. "I would expect nothing less from a pair of such frightening guardians. Quite right, not to let strange creatures make their way through your cavern without any explanation. No doubt when I finally report to the management this will earn you a commendation!"

The female beholder closed her mouth for a moment and then opened it once more. Dreth spoke again before she could say anything.

"No doubt you're wondering what I'm talking about." He folded his arms and nodded. "Let me tell you why we're here, and why we're heading to the center. A Guardian Golem has gone berserk and is rampaging through the dungeon; he's been attacking hard working denizens, not unlike yourselves. I've even been forced to consort with mere adventurers to help bring him to task."

"A guardian?" asked Bob, eye swiveling left and right.

"Yes, he's coming this way even now," said Cuthbert, stepping forward. "He piled through a whole tribe of Ogres just up the way," he gestured back towards the caverns, nearly knocking Sprat into the chasm as he did so.

"He is?" squeaked Bob's wife. "This way?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances, I'm sure that you would want to let us pass as quickly as possible, and to take refuge yourself as well. After all, we wouldn't expect you to try to actually stop a berserk Golem. That would be beyond even your abilities..."

Bob swelled up at this, expanding like a balloon being pumped too energetically. "I will have you know we are Advanced Level guardians! We're quite capable of dealing with a Golem here and there."

"Now dear," his wife floated next to him. "You know Golems are resistant to magic, your rays would have little effect, and if it's a Guardian Golem..." She paused a moment and looked at her husband.

Bob coughed and deflated a little. "Well, I suppose they aren't weak enemies, and I wouldn't want to put you in the way of something as dangerous as that. Still..."

"Look, let's go back to the hole and stay out of the way until this has blown over." Mrs. Beholder rubbed up against him.

"Before you do so, any directions would be appreciated. We're a little off course..." Dreth smiled a skull grin.

"You know, I wouldn't mind seeing the center myself," said Bob.

"Now Robert, let's let these nice undead go. You know we don't exactly get on well with Von and his creatures anyway." She started to drop away into the chasm.

Bob sighed. "I suppose so." He turned to Dreth. "Follow the path until you come to the bridge, you can't miss it. Watch for the plank in the middle though, it's a bit loose. Once you are over, turn left and take the tunnel with the large green rock next to it."

"Thank-you," said Dreth. "Your actions will be noted."

"Come on Robert!" echoed a voice from below.

Bob winked several eyes and bobbed up and down. "Have to go, good luck to you!" He turned about and dropped out of sight into the crevasse before any of them could say anything more.

"Damn, I wanted to ask him about what's ahead," said Dreth, standing on the edge and peering into the depths.

"Von and his creatures," said Percy. "Apparently."

"Let's get a move on," Redthorne stood up from behind his rock. "I feel too exposed here, and I dislike depths."

"Nice couple though," Cuthbert said conversationally as they moved off. "Must remember to ask them to our next party."

~ * ~

Two spots of red appeared in the dark, swiveling back and forth as they drew closer. The ragged kobold scout cowered against the wall. He knew it had been a risk, sneaking into these tunnels, but curiosity had finally overcome good sense. Now it pushed itself against the dead end and prayed to Kolog, the god of small beings trapped by bigger ones*.

The Golem stamped up the passage, crushing a loose rock underfoot as it did so, and then stopped as the tunnel ended in a blank wall. It had lost track of the prey, and the good mood it had built up ripping apart ogres was beginning to dissipate.

"You!" it shouted, spotting the kobold trying to meld into the rock face. The little monster fell to its knees and started wailing. The Golem picked it up between two fingers and drew it close to its mouth. "Have you seen a bunch of undead and a wizard pass by here?"

"N...n...n....n....n...no s...ssss..sir."

The Golem growled and studied the hanging form for a moment. It was insignificant, not worth wasting any time over. "Bah." Dropping the creature it turned about and stamped back up the tunnel.

Behind it there came a noise of a minor monster wetting himself.

*A minor god, and one that's not seen often. It hides most of the time.

~ * ~

Fyy Fleetfoot trod carefully as he stole up the passage. The hunting group had learned the hard way that this particular dungeon had more than it's fair share of traps and dangerous creatures. Already Hammath Highhand was holding five arrows he would have to take back to the Forest. Five arrows he would have to present to families who would see their sons and daughters no more.

Fyy shook his head, his long hair whipping to the side. Concentrate! He admonished himself. Grasping his rapier for comfort he peered up the dark tunnel with keen amber eyes. Was that movement ahead, in the infravision range? He stopped advancing and stood silent and unmoving as only a seasoned hunter could, becoming part of the environment, at one with the surrounding stone.

Stone! If only he was back home, surrounded by the mighty trees of Jollygreenwood. Already there had been talk in the party about turning back. Only honor kept them searching.

Fyy was the very image of a woodland elf. Tall, thin, garbed in green with a feather in his cap. He had a long bow slung over his shoulder and a quiver of arrows on his back. At one hip swung a thin sword, its silver pommel elegantly designed with runes etched into the metal. Long blond hair hung down to his shoulders, covering his pointed ears, which were currently straining to catch the slightest whisper.

There! Again, a flicker of something ahead. He should report to Hammath. Stepping backwards he started a noiseless retreat. It came as a shock then, when there was a low whisper in his ear.

"Going somewhere?"

Fyy turned, pulling on his sword. Something smashed the side of his face, taking skin off, crushing his cheekbone and sending him flying into the wall, which he bounced off.

The elf spat out a tooth and scrabbled backwards, trying to focus with one eye filling with blood. He saw nothing, yet the front of his tunic was pulled forward. He kicked out and his foot connected. There was a grunt and Fyy's arm was twisted backwards at the elbow, breaking the joint with a splintering sound. He screamed in agony and tried to escape the grip, but whatever it was lashed out again, smashing him in the ribs and knocking him to the ground.

Fyy's thoughts turned to flight, and he grasped at the floor, attempting to pull himself along with one good arm. There was a sharp pain in his leg, and he cried out as a chunk of flesh was torn from his t.h.i.g.h.

He felt strong fingers grab his neck, and his head was lifted up and then smashed into the hard stone cobbles. Lights flashed before his eyes, and agony echoed around his being as he was brutally abused by the unseen attackers.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of hard breathing, and cold jaws wrapping around his jugular, biting deeply, and feeding on his white Elven meat...