Wow! wow! Zoppy ‘earz new customerz! Zoppy can’t wait fer dem ta get ta ‘er shoppy! -Zoppy
An overjoyed smile of purest delight spread across Zoppy’s tiny face as the sounds of the Brave Friends’ battle chatter reached her oversized ears. The deformed goblin girl was so very happy to finally have new customers, and a lot of them, by the sounds of it. She was also very glad that she had so many new wares to sell them, and had gotten so much help with setting up her shop, or rather, her table. In fact, she was so happy and so excited, that her heart had begun racing quite fast indeed. Let’s hope she doesn’t wind up giving herself a heart attack…
Why wasn't it happening? Did it seriously take this long for the guillotine shrine to do its thing? Zogi stopped mid-frame when the Hero from last time drew his sword and proclaimed his violent intentions, his green brain scrambling rapidly for the best possible answer. If he ran away now, he'd certainly be chased! But he couldn't fight either, not when he was literally up against all five of them at once! None of the bigger folks were present, while his work buddies were still recuperating or preparing their own ambushes, as per his previous communications! And this entire time...he had expected the shrine to at least take down one or two more of these pale-skinned brats!
"GRAGO GOBBO! (WORK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!)"
There was only one thing Zogi could do, really. Scrambling on all-fours for maximum speed and agility, he sprinted towards the guillotine shrine, intent on simply using it as cover both from the mage as well as the melees.
It was very likely that Rosalie had been burned. Without a good excuse, there wouldn’t be much reason to use that particular cover again. At least, not in that specific camp. Salbjörg still wished there was more to find, but really, what she wished to find and what she would actually find were two entirely different things. Could one even expect to find ‘what they wanted’ when they knew so little about the world?
Once Salbjörg had made her escape, she leaned against a tree and slumped over. Her breathing got heavier, then finally her illusionary form broke, which made breathing easier again. Maybe, in her present form, the little bit of information she had managed to scrap together was significant when compared to her ability.
The “possessed cloak” started to fumble its way past Salbjörg’s position. With a sigh, she scooped it up and pulled it into her stomach. She noticed that there was more than just a rat inside, but she would have to explore its contents later. For now, she prepared to depart.
She reached into her pauldron and prepared to give it a ring, but she hesitated.
It might be nice to see if the other rats wish to depart with her.
For a while, Muste studied the group of adolescent monkeys that had dared to intrude upon their home. He recognized a pattern with their group: some were more inclined for power and use of handheld weaponry, while others were more similar to him, and channeled the arcane, or some other power he did not fully understand. As he did, the rats in his clothes began to slowly acclimate to the psionic network to the point of being able to convey their desires to him: simple as they were, they nonetheless possessed a will to scavenge, to collect, and survive, all admirable traits. However, now was not the time to forage and resupply, as more urgent matters were at hand. The illithid considered for a brief moment to explain in detail, but realized that the verminous employees would be more receptive to simpler suggestions. So, he mustered his psionic power, and conveyed a message to the wormtailed friends:
"Defend home, then return, then feed."
Hopefully, with the message's simple form able to be absorbed by the hive mind, Muste stopped behind a corner, as he listened to the cries of the despicable humans raise in volume, as they now began to take offensive in the guillotine chamber. He peeked behind the stone wall, and observed the new shrine that had been enacted: a magnificent monument to death and sacrifice, perfect for separating the precious shells from their owners' shoulders. He understood the curse that permeated the artifact, but noted it's sluggish activation: he decided he would need to jumpstart the ritual by placing a suitable offering. The decision was almost instant: the child in the pure white robes was the most dangerous, his holy magics an anathema to his compatriots, and the dungeon as a whole. He would not suffer his cherubic prayers to cleanse these unhallowed halls any longer. He reached out with his hands, which turned to tentacles as his disguise melted away, revealing a horrific monster with eyes glowing with magical power.
"Ia Ia Fhtagnh'n! Thunderwave!"
He shouted, and cast forth his powered spell, targeting it at the priest. If his calculations were correct, the force of the spell would be enough to cause the disgusting ape to stumble forward into the guillotine, followed by a downward slice of the rectangular blade, mercilessly decapitating him on the spot. Then, he would perform his trademark technique, honed over his last battle...And flee.
For a fleeting moment, the movement of the remaining mage suggested that Schnupfen's ploy was about to pay off, but the next second the shadow's anticipation fell flat as the intruders' ringleader rallied his team to focus on the more tangible threat posed by Zogi. Through no real fault of his own, his ruse had failed. How did that wannabe hero know that his fallen ally was safe in the hole? He didn't, but humans were easy to convince to prioritize saving their own skin. Schnupfen needed to think of another scheme, and fast, before Zogi paid the price for Schnupfen's failure. That goblin was no stranger to death, of course, so Schnupfen wasn't really concerned for his sake, but he could not allow these invaders to reach the dungeon core.
When Zogi realized that his own plan wasn't panning out, and the terrible position that left him in, he took cover behind the cursed guillotine. The adventurers, smelling blood, were about to rush in to finish him off when another dungeon keeper finally showed his face. Muste announced his presence with an eldritch incantation and forceful spell, taking the marauders -and especially his clerical target- by surprise, then hightailed it back the way he came. That was Schnupfen's cue to take action, to further confuse the adventurers, scatter their attention, and perhaps most importantly, terrify them with the impression that they were surrounded. Stay calm. Stay calm. The show must go on. Slipping out from the shadowy pitfall, Schnupfen cast himself onto a wall to the south of his enemies' group, quickly manifesting a number of additional hands and assembling his long, clawed fingers into devilish shapes. After a moment, he began to let out a cacophony of frenzied, predatory barks and baying howls with his many mouths, quickly getting louder as his shadow puppets got bigger and bigger, as if drawing closer. If he played his cards right, it would seem to the intruders as if a pack of rabid hellhounds were barreling toward their position, their mouthfuls of vicious fangs ready to tear the hapless humans limb from limb.
That Zogi’s plan worked for a second was a miracle. That it only worked for a second was disappointing but entirely unsurprising to the Oracle, who sighed with exasperation as the wretched boy rallied his lackeys and got them to charge in.
Credit to the goblin however, when things went south he didn’t hesitate to charge into the fray, though the Oracle supposed his proven ability to survive death likely added to his bravery.
That said, if this was to not end the exact same as the goblin’s last rushing in (namely near instant death), he’d need support, and so the Oracle urgently waved and pointed a small hand, trying to direct Kleine to send her copies in as well as a further distraction.
While doing so it distracted itself in turn, enough that when the rogue boy came leaping up at the Oracle’s ceiling protruding head it was taken entirely by surprise, the starry eye enlarging in shock moments before a blade sliced through it.
Fortunately, though the blade had parted the Oracle’s ‘flesh’ with ease, and left a gash all across its face, it seemed to have done absolutely nothing to the structural integrity of the being’s eye.
What was a knife in the face of a star, after all?
Well… It was disorientating for one to have a knife slashed through your face, and so while the oracle was hardly harmed, and its membrane already regenerating, there’d be no eyebeams till it regained its senses.
This didn’t stop it from praying “Oh fate, smite this scoundrel!" (it didn’t seem to speak or think from the face) and then rolling a 36 on a handful of tossed dice. Upon rolling this perfectly average result, the ceiling shuddered, cracked, then and a shower of small stones fell down from the ceiling and towards where the thief had landed after his big jump.
The City of Pax Septimus was looking a bit stranger of late, but a consensus had yet to be reached on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. Instead of its usually gloomy and gritty atmosphere, the so-called “City of Blood’s” art deco architecture had been soaked in bright, vibrant colors, creating a cheerful and rather whimsical atmosphere evoking a cartoonish beach resort. It wasn’t quite as childishly cringey as that time reality got broken and the world wound up looking like a child’s crayon drawing in that one episode of Teen Titans (the 2003 version, not the shit version), but it was pretty close. The trappings of this harmless, vacation atmosphere were even extended to the city’s populace, and with it also came a complete ban on violence of any kind, which was greatly appreciated by some, and greatly loathed by others. Yet, there were a few residents that were entirely unconcerned about the recent drastic changes, one of which being the elderly proprietor of a quaint little shop in the city’s historic district, Torvald’s Tomes and Trinkets…
Of course, since old Torvald had been around the proverbial block several thousand times, he had already encountered this particular peculiar enchantment (and the being responsible for it) before, and so was well-accustomed to its relatively harmless effects. That said, there were still a few things that needed checking up on, and as the now beach-attired sagely shopkeeper took note of the most pertinent sea-side alterations made to his various wares, he did not notice the twin tears in the plenumic fabric which opened above his front counter and deposited upon it what appeared to be several broken toys, before closing once more. This was undeniably for the best, for, had Torvald seen the distinct yellowy-green arcs of crackling lightning that outlined those tears, he would have recognized them as being the work of someone that he knew to be very very wary of. But, as it was, he did not see, and so, upon turning around, he was pleasantly surprised to find the new merchandise waiting for him.
“My my! What have we here?” Torvald wondered aloud as he looked over the new arrivals.
The first was an action figure of a swordswoman in a black bodysuit over which was worn more traditional Japanese attire, although, somewhat distressingly, her head was no longer attached to her body. Even more distressing was the condition of the second toy. A large, eldritch tentacle creature, it had been sliced cleanly in twain, as had the small collection of lesser toy creatures that were clearly part of the same “set”. Finally, there was what looked to be a bionicle mask of some sort. How odd. Tapping his spectacles (which had become a pair of sunglasses), Torvald ran a full diagnostic scan on the assorted playthings, his eyes widening as knowledge was gleaned.
“Ah!” the sage exclaimed, an exited grin spreading across his wizened features. “So you’ve arrived from another reality plenum, have you? How delightfully fascinating! In fact,” he added, taking an even closer look. “It appears you’re resonating with multiple plenumic signatures! Multiverse traveling toys… What a grand novelty! And what tales I’m sure you could tell! But now is not the time for that! No, first you need some patching up, and I have just the tools for the task!” Torvald declared with a chuckle as he retrieved his repair kit from below the counter.
While once a polished wildwood case with gilded glittergleam edges, it had now assumed the form of a colorful plastic tackle box. Thankfully, the various tools within remained unaffected by the whimsical magic permeating the city, and Torvald swiftly set to work mending the mangled playthings. “I’m no stranger to sudden arrivals to my humble shop, you know,” he told the toys as he went about his work. “Or departures,” he added with a chuckle. “Why, I quite vividly recall one such instance, long, long ago. It was in another world, in another age. An age of adventure…”
At the time, I was dwelling in a small town built in the crumbling shell of a once great city. The settlement’s sole purpose was to service adventurers, brave seekers of knowledge that dared to plumb the depths of The Warrens, the greatest dungeon in the land. My shop was no exception. Indeed, I can confidently say that it was the foremost establishment for those who sought items of a more esoteric nature than the usual assortment of mundane provisions. One particularly notable knowledge seeker was a female goblin by the name of Zig. Since goblins who raid dungeons are so rare as to be nearly nonexistent, word of her exploits had naturally spread throughout the land, and I was only too pleased to provide assistance to such a renowned individual. Yes, even if other, smaller minded merchants refuse to have dealings with members of so-called “monster races”, my wears are available to all knowledge seekers, no matter what otherwise unfavorable characteristics they may or may not be said to possess. Thus, after purchasing no small number of highly helpful items from me, young Zig set out into The Warrens’ dreadful depths.
However, it was to my considerable surprise that, only a day later, my shop was visited by a second goblin. One goblinoid customer was a rare enough occurrence for any place of business in that realm, but two in the same span of days? I strongly suspected that it was no mere coincidence, and I was soon proven correct. The fellow informed me that he was Zig’s brother, Zag, and he was on a quest to locate his sister. He went on to say, in the crude and blunt manner typical of goblins, that after Zig left their tribe, word of her adventures reached the oversized ears of the warband’s leader, Big Boss Zug. He had been none-too-pleased to hear about Zig’s troublingly unorthodox behavior, and in a fit of furious rage, banished Zag as punishment for allowing his sister to malign goblin-kind’s reputation in such an appalling manner. He would only be allowed to return if he managed to put a most permanent stop to Zig’s adventuring, her severed head serving as ample proof that he had done so.
Now, while I abhor violence myself, what a knowledge seeker does with the knowledge I provide them with is a matter of their own choosing, and a matter far beyond the scope of my services. As such, I was quite forthcoming in telling Zag all about his sister’s daring attempt to reach the very heart of The Warrens, and how, if he wished to venture into its depths in pursuit of her, then he would surely require no small number of useful items, items I was only too happy to provide. Unfortunately, as is the case with most goblins, Zag had little in the way of currency, and so an arrangement was reached in which Zag would provide me with the remains of any of the Gruesome Gardner’s necro-botanical amalgamations he managed to defeat, as I was very interested in studying them firsthand (having up til then relied exclusively on oral recountings of their attributes). Once Zag had given his agreement to this very generous deal, I began presenting him with an array of mystical items, from Izocqh’s Amulet of Insight to Everrond’s Elixir of Excellence, making sure to carefully explain the proper use of each pendant and potion.
I had just finished enumerating the myriad attributes of Caprella’s Collapsible Campsite, when nearly a dozen members of the town watch barged through the front door, creating quite the ill-timed interruption! Yet, before they, or I, could say or do anything further, the panicking Zag promptly ingested every last potion, while simultaneously activating every last enchanted item, I had given him. The combination of so many unfathomable forces never meant to act in concert could have very likely wiped the entire town off the map, but fortunately, all it actually accomplished was to suck poor Zag into a swirling, interdimensional vortex, and create a miniature campsite atop my front counter. That’s not exactly something one witnesses every day, I can assure you! I’ve yet to learn where Zag ultimately ended up, but against all odds, Zig did, indeed attain the goal of her own quest. But I think that’s a tale for another time, hmm?
“Well now, it looks like you’re all good as new!” Torvald declared triumphantly as he gazed down at his handiwork, before putting his tools back into their case. “And I think I know just the place for you,” he added, gathering the repaired toys and placing them on a shelf between a set of voodoo dolls and several wooden marionettes.
Pleased with their placement, Torvald returned to the front counter, unaware that the head of the swordswoman action figure had slowly turned to track his departure…
Rats had, somewhere and somehow, heard about the concept of "picking on people your own size." However, as Rats turned towards the heroes invading their home, they quickly realized none of them were exactly their size — or, really, even close. The dwarf boy was, however, significantly closer to them in size than any of the others, and so Rats decided to pick on him.
They emerged from their hiding spots, spilling forth from Muste's person like pestilential magic missiles, the illithid's suggestion repeating in their minds like a war cry. "Defend home! Defend home!"
As they ran, they found themselves dashing through Schnupfen's shadowy hellhounds — entirely by accident, as they did not quite possess the forethought for a coordinated combo attack, yet — which meant that when they launched themselves at the Dwarf, he might have for a moment thought he was attacked by something far more ferocious than three rats, who proceeded to... pretty much just nibble at his boots. They were kind of their size, so.
🐀
Meanwhile, in the human camp...
The very first step of Rats' plan — knock over the crock — had been thwarted by none other than Scary Lady herself. Worse, she had spun a weapon from thin air and was now actively swatting at the rodents like they were nothing but furry, squeaking flies. (Wasn't that bats?)
Reinforcements were coming, too, in the form of a disgruntled priest. Rats regrouped, re-panicked (they'd still gotten no food!) and then, suddenly, froze where they stood. As if one, they turned their noses back towards the direction of the Dungeon in one perfectly synced sweep and proceeded to dash off without another sound.
Larry had been kidnapped. Picked off from his feet without warning, he and his loot had been rather easy to seize, as he had offered no resistance. Not for lack of trying, but for lack of stamina. Larry was not in the best of shapes. Thankfully, as he peeked at his captor from the hood he'd hid in, he found the familiar face of their conspirator. Excitedly, he began pointing at all the things he'd acquired, explaining in arduous (and squeaky) detail what he thought each of them was.
And then a wave of three rats crashed into them.
"Defend home," Salbjörg would hear in her head as the furry wave tried to pull her along, the sentence repeating over and over in a discordant mess of tiny rat voices (one of them was surprisingly melodic, actually, probably had promise as a singer or something). "Defend home. Defend home. (Return) Defend home. Return. Defend home. (Feed)"
The thunderwave struck the priest. His words of prayer had been replaced by a "wo-wai-waaah" as he stumbled and bounced towards the guillotine shrine. Really, it was astounding that he didn't fall over. Though perhaps he should have, considering his efforts to remain upright had resulted in him moving considerably farther than if he just fell.
Zogi could hear a meaty thud and the statue shake as the priest collided on the opposite side.
Contrary to Muste's expectation, there was no perfectly aligned mishap resulting in instant decapitation. In fact, there was a lot of nothing as the priest stood backup, dusted himself off, and quickly inspected himself. Nothing seemed to be wrong with him. He began to run back towards the mage to avoid the front line. One step. Two step. The sound of flesh tearing and a body falling to the ground. His head had rather spectacularly flew off. So that was how the guillotine shrine worked. Either that or the priest's head just did that on its own.
Received 10 DP.
The mage, who was close by to the priest, was shoved by the nearby thunderwave. The paladin, unmoved despite being equally in the path, grabbed onto the mage collar to prevent her from flying away. Unfortunately for the mage, their yell of "Windcutt-aaah!" had been interrupted as the small crescent of wind formed rolled and curved forwards, its target unknown.
Klein's illusions stumbled forwards towards the hero and the dwarf warrior. In an instant, they were felled by simple childish swings of their weapons. As was expected for illusions, but it did mean that Zogi wouldn't immediately be slain.
The rogue was stopped by the sudden appearance of rocks. No matter, he'd simply strike faster.
Or so he thought. In some twist of fate, rather than the guillotine shrine, the crescent of wind had struck his neck and removed the connection of life.
Received 10 DP...?
Unfortunately for the Oracle, the crescent of wind was curving upwards, aimed by pure misfortune directly at its wound. It wouldn't do much damage--considering how it had slowed so much already from cutting bone, but man was it unfortunate.
The call of fictitious hellhounds from Schnupfen forewarned the remaining members of the little incursion. By heart, they grouped back up together for one last stand, backs against each other. Of course, the rats gnawed at the dwarf.
Despite the ineffectiveness of the attack, it firmly worked. The dwarf warrior screamed out in abject terror.
"Rats! I hate rats! And rats make me crazy!"
In some bizarre act of dwarven athleticism, he dove at the ground, curled into a ball, and proceeded to roll away at surprising speed, throwing the rats upwards above the hero, paladin, and mage.
His destination? Wherever his intuition took him. And by some happenstance, he ended up in front of a small goblin girl who dreamed of trade.
Remaining foes: Lv. 2 Hero, 3/7 Lv. 1 [Brave Friends] [D. WAR, H. PAL, E. MAG]
New Foes: Lv. 1 Hero Team [Brave Friends] 7 child heroes, all equally new and foolhardy. A dwarf warrior boy, a human paladin girl, a human rogue boy, an elf mage boy, an elf mage girl, a human ranger boy, and a human priest boy. You could take them. One on one, at least.
_____________________________________
. . . .Remember to complain to your coworkers about any issues you have with them.
“Hi! Hi!” Zoppy greeted the young dwarf who’d crashed into her makeshift table, even as she frantically worked to keep her various wares arranged in a pleasing manner after the collision threatened to completely collapse the pile of rubble they had been placed upon. “Welcome ta Zoppy’z shoppy! Zoppy’z got lotz o’ nice fingz fer ya, if ya gotz sum shiniez fer ‘er!” the intrepid shopkeeper announced with a big, toothy smile. “Ere’z sum lucky dirt, an’ ere’z sum lucky rockz! Zoppy’ll gib ‘em ta ya fer only a few lotz! An’ ere’z Zoppy’z nicest nice fingz! Sum lucky boney staby fingz! Zoppy’ll gib ya one fer many lotz!” the goblin girl happily informed her customer as she pointed a finger of her non-deformed hand at one of the bone daggers. “Zoppy dinkz itz a really really gud deal!”
With the rats gathered, and on Sal’s person somehow, she gave the bell of safe return a ring. Maybe it took them all home, maybe it was just her, but that had little to do with what she would do next. She slinked off, weary from being outside for so long, and looked over the items the rats had collected. Maybe the smelly bag would have some coins in it.
…
…
…
Nothing reflective enough to see her own reflection in.
What a bust.
Except…
While Salbjörg had been going through everything in the core room, she could hear something was coming closer. She had been able to defeat the last adventurer easily enough, was everyone else so weak that they managed to let one almost get to the core, despite all the new traps?
She peered down the hall, not especially pleased at the disturbance. Fortunately the hallway terminated at a T section with Zoppy’s shop stuck in a little nook. Much like Rats, Zoppy had proven to have a few uses despite being some malformed green abomination. The dwarf appeared to be distracted, which would make ambushing him all too easy.
With a flick of her fingers, an assortment of poisoned bone needles hovered over her hand and with a flick, they soared down the hallway into the dwarf’s back. Salbjörg didn’t stick around long enough to see what became of the dwarf, and instead retreated back into the core room to finish looking over the haul.
Thwarted! Tossed! T... riumphed over, just like their brethren!
... Was what ran through the minds of the rats back in the dungeon, as they were slung into the air by one very scared dwarf. By the time they hit the ground again, however, Rats had become a complete entity once more; the wayward four, transported by Sal, had slipped away from her and joined the mischief.
Now numbering seven, each one hungrier than the next, Rats turned towards the remaining heroes with eyes agleam. The Hero stood the closest. His boots were still intact, but attacking them had been rather ineffective the last time around (turns out, the dwarf had been faster when rolling and hadn't even needed boots-!)
The sharp thing the Hero was holding onto, however, seemed like an easy (and potentially edible at this point) target, so Rats threw themselves back into the fray, this time with a clear goal in mind. They aimed to run up the boy's legs and torso, then down his arms to flood around the sword's hilt, gnawing up as fast and furious as they could, living their life a quarter inch at a time.
Things changed for the better, even if he still had no clue how the shrine was supposed to function. Did it have to be touching people to do its thing? Didn't that mean it would be better used if they had swung it around like a stick? But wait, with a shrine that hefty, just smacking someone with it would basically just kill them anyways, yeah?
Zogi was relieved, really, that his wrinkly little brain even had the time to calmly formulate those thoughts to begin with. The other guardians of the dungeon had returned now, having showed up just in time to assist with the workload of this particular shift, and in return, his distractions had borne the fruit of seeing two more of these invading brats slain! Only three remained now! His nemesis from before, swarmed by a horde of rats, as well as the paladin and mage that accompanied him! Hoping that such distractions would serve to keep the entire party occupied, Zogi snuck, rogue-like, to the corpse of that thieving little sneak, rummaging around to take out the sharp-ish daggers that they used.
It was heavy in his skinny hands, but he could hold it two-handed and then prop it up against his perfectly round pot-belly. Sinking into a low stance and drawing in a deep breath to fortify himself, the goblin waited for the rats to do their task, and then sprinted head-on towards the mage's back!
If all went well, a knife with a goblin's entire body weight behind it will drive itself into the spellcaster, putting a quick end to their magical bullshit!
Shortly after Schnupfen arrived and lent his efforts to the chaotic clamor, the dungeon keepers really started getting results. For one, the cleric quite suddenly found himself a head shorter. The reason for this wasn't immediately apparent, but it stood to reason that it related to his contact with the guillotine shrine, and Schnupfen wasn't about to argue with the results. With the majority of the invaders' magic-users down for the count, they were almost out of adventurers who could actually do anything about the semi-corporeal shadow. This was simply the reality of hyper-specialization; although Schnupfen's holy weakness and magic allergy meant that he could be easily countered and completely shut down in most situations, any party that lacked (or happened to lose) its counters would inadvertently give the specter his win condition. Of course, he wasn't strong enough right now to completely trounce his foes once the scales tipped in his favor, but now Schnupfen could cease his toothless sideshow and actually get in on the action.
Still, the continued presence of one mage amongst the remaining would-be heroes gave Schnupfen pause. A single spell could still leave him a snotty, sobbing mess, sprawled out on the stone floor in a puddle of his own ectoplasm and vulnerable to attack. Now that the dungeon keepers had the numbers advantage, he didn't actually need to throw himself into the melee and start clawing, so he loomed overhead a moment to think. As much as the supposed creative Schnupfen didn't want to rehash his greatest hit, dropping a rock on someone did strike him as a pretty great idea. Good old rock. Nothing beats that. He was a bit paranoid that the same trick wouldn't work on the boy wonder again, but in truth it was his internal bias that persuaded him to target the final mage instead of the high-priority Hero. Even better, it seemed like he and Zogi were on the same wavelength as the goblin snatched a knife and ran forward to shank the spellcaster. To Schnupfen it seemed very, very likely that he would meet his end once more on Danny's sword as the wannabe rounded on the goblin to protect his ally, but even if Zogi's efforts were doomed to fail, they were just the distraction that the shadow needed.
Floating above the marauders with a grapefruit-sized chunk of granite in hand, Schnupfen took aim and dropped a rock once more, his psychadelic eyes bulging in gleeful anticipation of that delicious sound of stone cracking skull.
The Oracle had a brief moment of vision where it got to see first the airblade cut off the rouge’s head, and then be horrified when the blade came up towards it before it once again saw nothing once more due to discombobulation.
This sounded a bit like “ahaha-aaaaaaahh!
Suffice to say, it wasn’t going to be much help for a little while longer.
It had at least been helping, somewhat, unlike the dungeon’s units, but to be fair to them, they were all pretty tired. Still. It was hard to rest when there was a battle going on right around the corner, and so the lot of them had approached, unable to stay away.
Not that they were rounding the corner to get involved, mind. It sounded like a hectic mess in there and how much could they actually do, so they were more or less hanging around with Kleine around the corner, using the Oracle as makeshift cover
The sound of something crashing into a table nearby however was enough to get the most active of them, the naga, to slither through the illusory and poke its head around the corner. It was just in time for Salbjorg’s darts to whisk by as they sailed towards the dwarf who’d landed among the pitiable Zoppy’s wares.
The laborer hissed “Zoppys in trouble!” back at the others, prompting the kobold to poke it's head around the corner below the naga's, and the ent to poke it’s own around it above the both of them.
Upon seeing the situation, they all immediately came to a silent agreement, which was that the moment the dwarf caused trouble he was going to a two bone knives in the back and a wooden fist slamming down on his noggin.
Muste didn't stay to find out whether his ploy to break the core of the invading force bore fruit or not, but based on the ensuing screams he made an educated guess that it was successful to some degree. Back at the entrance to the dungeon, he turned and slammed his back to the wall, holding a tentacle to his chest as he heaved, a mix of exhaustion from the exposure to the outdoors and the adrenaline that spiked through his mollusk-like body causing him to jiggle as he caught his breath.
To his surprise, none of the filthy humans took pursuit, and he walked back in, expecting them to have clumped up together to face off aginat Oracle and the rest of the much more courageous co-workers. And there, he saw three of them their backs to each other, as well as the headless priest: his facial tentacles curved into an evil smile. They had now seen him, and he saw the mage about to cast a spell.
"Magic Missile!" The illithid burbled as a counter, and using his grimoire as a focus channelled forth a bolt of arcane might that soared through the dark chamber, aiming it right in the wizard whelp's torso. Maybe it wouldn't do too much damage, but knowing how frail his own spell-casting kind are, he might be able to take him out.
"Oh, hum." The dwarf didn't seem very interested in most of Zoppy's wares. The dagger was of subpar worksmanship--plus, dwarves weren't very particular towards them either. The dirt seemed. But something did catch his eye. A faint glisten as he looked over the rocks that Zoppy had prepared.
"Er, uh. Methinks I'll take this!" The dwarf said with a cough--stifling something that his instincts picked out. "This should be enough to cover it." The dwarf placed three brown coins of an indeterminate alloy in front of Zoppy.
Of course, any sort of negotiation had ended abruptly when a half-dozen needles flew and struck the dwarf.
"A-ambush?!" The dwarf immediately called out as he swung his fist indiscriminately. Zoppy wasn't hit--the extra bone blades and wooden fist struck the dwarf down before. He was still alive, but those strikes had disoriented the now-poisoned dwarf into being unable to hit the small goblin merchant.
Those worries ended quickly and unceremoniously. The sound of ripping. The dwarf's head simply disconnected from its body. But the astute would notice something rather peculiar:
The rock that the dwarf had purchased was gone.
Zoppy has gained 3x Brown Coins Gained 10 DP
The rats easily disarmed the hero, who had dropped the blade. It wasn't without casualty, though. As it turns out, gnawing on one fist made it quite easy for the hero to strike and punch with the other. But it was buying time and a panicked hero of that level couldn't slay a rat in such a hurried panic.
And the rats, with their bestial senses, could hear the tearing easily. Another head flew without ceremony.
Gained 20 DP
Zogi's attempt on the mage sent the elf to the ground. It was a brutally violent struggle. Despite being a monster, he still struggled to plunge the knife in deeper as the elf mage gripped it in response. The struggled grunts only ended as a magic missile flew and struck the mage, partially blasting Zogi. The intertwined mage and goblin rolled from the blast, but the mage's grip was weakened and Zogi stabbed deeper.
Flesh tore. Another head.
Gained 10 DP
In classic fashion, Shnupfen dropped another rock. The paladin, however, ate it well. Disoriented but still standing, it was a glancing blow. That and the paladin was surprisingly durable--even as a Lv. 1.
"Y-you!" The paladin said as they stumbled and looked towards Schnupfen. A foul feeling came over the ghost. Something was about to happen. A holy energy coalesced. If he had a spine, a chill would be running down it. It was bad--really bad.
"Turn un-"
The sound of tearing interrupted the paladin.
Gained 10 DP
Gained: 7x Starting Weapon, 7x Starting Armor
Current Goal: Defend your dungeon✓
Received 520 DP
The dungeon was, for better or worse, no longer at risk. At least, for now. Some things worked, some things didn't. Some lessons were learned, some weren't. But all of the monsters survived.
In a brief moment of respite, the monsters could once again converse and plan out their dungeon.
The monsters cleared away the waste left by the intruders.
Kleine, however, seemed a bit worried. She seemed to be pacing around in front of the treasure chest.
New Foes: Lv. 1 Hero Team [Brave Friends] 7 child heroes, all equally new and foolhardy. A dwarf warrior boy, a human paladin girl, a human rogue boy, an elf mage boy, an elf mage girl, a human ranger boy, and a human priest boy. You could take them. One on one, at least.
_____________________________________
. . . .Remember: delays don't always mean consistent iteration--sometimes, it's someone being placed into the machine that causes excruciating agony.
Zoppy waited with the most eager of expectation as the young dwarf looked over her various wares, her heart beating so fast, she was in real danger of having it burst and kill her on the spot. Thankfully(?), the suspense ended just before that could happen, with the dwarf declaring that he would buy one of her lucky rocks. “Dankz lotz!” Zoppy told her customer with great glee as she held out her good hand to accept his payment. Unfortunately, said payment took the form of three, decidedly un-shiny coins. Her once jubilant expression quickly dissolved, her big ears drooping against the sides of her small head. “B-But…” she blubbered, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment. “D-Deez ain’t…” However, before she could finish, the dwarf came down with a bad case of the “being murdered”, and so was unable to take any further inquiries or respond to any objections from the malformed little goblin girl. Returning her attention to the three coins once more, she mumbled, “M-Maybe if Zoppy cleanz dem…?”
Schnupfen wasn't undead, not technically, since he had never once been truly alive and had entered this world in his current, morbid state. Did that stop him from nearly having a heart attack when the post-clobber paladin rounded on him for a righteous, wrathful cast of Turn Undead? Not one bit. The shadow let out a deeply unflattering noise somewhere between a scream and a gurgle as he preemptively splattered himself against the ceiling, as two-dimensional as if some divine being had smote Schnupfen with a giant fly swatter.
Fortunately, no obliteration came to pass. Schnupfen was too busy being paralyzed by terror to observe exactly how the paladin died, but when he finally came to his senses and his bulging eyes beheld the adventurer's limp corpse, he let out a sigh of relief and dripped down from the ceiling like melted butter. A weary look around through half a dozen half-lidded peepers confirmed no signs of life from the invading force, so it looked like the dungeon keepers had successfully defended their home yet again.
Of course, Schnupfen could only be so happy about that.
"That was too close," he muttered breathlessly with a rueful shake of his head, his massive nose flipping from side to side like a boat's rudder. After what happened the first time the dungeon received an uninvited guest, he'd practically obsessed over making the place better prepared for the next invasion, only for the next marauders to scale up even more. And to think they were still little more than kids playing hero, equipped with meager arms, armor, and intellects. What would happen if actual adventurers showed up? Schnupfen and the others needed to get ahead of the curve...but how? "Got to do better," the shadow told himself, wandering around the dungeon. "Got to do better..."
He wound up in the vicinity of his beloved pitfall trap, where Kleine loitered around the empty treasure chest. He bristled when the spirit looked his way, paranoid (and guilty) enough to imagine all the accusations she might levy his way before she could say a word. "It's not my fault they showed up right in the middle of preparations!" he whined. "Now that they know we've got trapped chests, it'll be that much harder to fool those fools again...curse those cheaters' profane revival arts, allowing them to live and learn from fatal mistakes!" The paint hadn't even dried on the dungeon keepers' current setup, and they would now have to reorganize everything in order to keep getting kills.
Schnupfen glance over his shoulder, back toward the dungeon heart. After their win, the defenders ought to be able to summon again. They needed some new toys to play with, and perhaps more than anything, some means of production to keep the dungeon expanding in between raids.
Muste shook for a moment from the adrenaline, and then finally bent over like a dried squid at a market stall, his hand tentacles on his knees as he took in a deep breath of relief. "We did it..." He muttered to himself, and then stood back up straight. "Now, I should probably start writing out the after-action report, and tally up everything..." He took a scroll out and began writing. He walked around the corpses of the invaders, taking the priest's decapitated head with him to snack on as he wrote up the loot the minions gathered from their corpses. He was especially interested in the magic user's spell ingredient pouch and spellbook, hoping they would further expand his mystical arts in addition to sucking up the grey matter of the young prodigy.
Then, he wrote out the losses: the damage to their properties, the lives of lost minions, and then started writing out a Lessons Learned section: what did they do well on that invasion sprint, where could they improve on more, what future risks are recognized in developing the dungeon, and what goals they should strive for. Once he was done, he began writing copies, and sent them telekinetically out to the other Shard holders and minions, alongside a new suggestion for their regular meetings. "We need to start holding surveillance rotation," he noted in ink. "Someone on duty to keep an eye out on the humans, and to alert the rest at the first signs of a new incursion."
