The chitinous snap of mandibles echoed against a pock-marked stone wall and a severed human head bounced into a puddle of blood. A helmet, knocked loose from the head, rolled round and round with a warbling clang, speeding up in its last few rotations before finally spinning to a stop. Next to the head, a man's body slumped to the ground with a soft thump.
Regdar wrenched his greatsword from a heap of oozing, gray-green flesh and turned toward the sound. Bodies lay scattered across the darkened floor. Blood ran in rivulets down the slanted passage until it collected again at the foot of a very large beast.
"Another umber hulk," grumbled Regdar. The creature stood at the end of the passage. At its feet lay the remains of an adventuring party-among them Regdar's close friend Whitman.
The fighter looked up at the beast with a burning hatred rising along his spine. Behind the creature, a few beams of natural light lancing down from the ceiling illuminated the dusty air, revealing a large chamber. From where Regdar stood, it looked as if the room might have been a bathhouse at one time.
The fighter sneered and lifted his blade. "Still hungry?" He took two quick steps forward. "Have a bite of this," he hollered. Then he launched himself into a charge down the hall, his greatsword raised overhead with both hands.
In just eight long steps, Regdar closed the distance between him and the half-ape, half-beetle monstrosity. The umber hulk flinched and stepped back. As Regdar swung his heavy blade, the tip scraped across the ceiling, showering sparks along its overhead arc.
The weapon sang as it swung free of the stone, but then it bounced sideways off the creature's thickly armored forearm. Regdar stumbled and struggled to keep hold of his sword.
The monster clacked its serrated mandibles. Its claws descended on the off-balance fighter. The first crashed against his breastplate. Sharp talons screeched, leaving deep creases in the gray metal. The second hit Regdar in the right shoulder, and the impact knocked him upright again.
The fighter balanced precariously on his toes for a second before the weight of his armor settled, and he landed flat on his feet with a noise like a tumbling pile of cook pots.
"Thanks," he grunted.
Regdar swung up his greatsword. The blade collided with the side of the creature's face and slashed open an oval-shaped organ Regdar could only assume was the monster's eye.
"How's that feel, you ugly dung muncher," he said. At the same time he readied the sword to attack again from what he hoped was now the creature's blind side.
The umber hulk reeled, black pulp gushing from its eye. Mandibles gnashed, and the air was filled with sounds of insectoid squeeking.
Regdar's next blow landed on the beast's arm. The thick hide made a popping noise as the blade bit through, then orange ooze pumped out in short bursts.
The umber hulk hissed and bent down into a crouch. It clicked its mandibles and scratched its claws along the stone floor. With one good eye it watched Regdar.
The right claw shot out lightning-quick. Regdar shifted to his right and evaded the swipe just in time to realize it was a feint. The creature's left claw thrust forward and slammed Regdar against the stone wall. His helmet banged hard against the rock, and he slid to the floor. His sword clattered and bounced, then settled to the ground with a dull chime.
Regdar was staggered but not dazed. Rolling away from the wall, he pushed himself to his knees and faced the drooling, bug-eyed monster.
"Is that the best you can do?" he said, spitting blood on the floor. He scooped up his sword and stepped back, steadying himself for the beast's next move.
The umber hulk's head lunged forward, snapping and biting at the fighter. The tips of its mandibles closed tightly around Regdar's left forearm.
The fighter grimaced and released his trapped hand's grip on the sword. Using only his right arm to wield the weapon, he sliced it across the monster's face, hoping to cut its remaining eye.
The sword was too long and the creature too close, but the danger made the umber hulk release Regdar's arm and skitter away beyond reach. Regdar pressed forward immediately. The tip of his sword missed the creature's eye, but the blade slid up the side of its head and carved a deep gouge in the carapace before dislodging what looked like an antenna.
The hulking vermin hunched down, then launched its considerable bulk forward again. Its body filled the passageway before landing on top of Regdar and crushing him to the floor. The fighter went down again with a clang, the monster lying on his legs, frantically clawing its way up his metal-encased body.
"This is all backward," muttered Regdar, struggling to pull himself out from under the foe. "Bugs don't squash people."
Mandibles gnashed in front of the fighter's face and drool splashed through his visor. Regdar had visions of his own head being snipped off and bouncing down the corridor when the creature spun around to face toward the old bathhouse. Regdar, too, twisted his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and the glint of steel.
"Never was any good at sneaking!" came a gravelly voice.
Whitman, thought Regdar.
The umber hulk spun around in the passage and bounded off of Regdar. The fighter launched himself to his feet. Sure enough, at the end of the passage, hammer hefted over his shoulder, stood Whitman.
"Come and get me, you overgrown weevil," shouted the dwarf.
The umber hulk jumped forward and snapped its mandibles shut around Whitman's head. Regdar cringed at the sound of grinding metal.
A cloud of dust rolled out in front of the monster, heading in a line down the hall. It stopped at the opening to the bathhouse. A long gray beard swung in the clear air, and the cloud sprouted a dwarven head. Whitman had tumbled away, managing to keep his head and his hammer while losing only his helmet. The old dwarf swung his weapon over his shoulder again and hurled it at the beast.
Regdar closed the distance behind the umber hulk in two great steps. The tip of his sword bit into chitinous hide and plunged through. The monster convulsed and jolted forward. Whitman's hammer collided with the great beast's face, and its head recoiled backward. The monster looked as if it were dancing, undulating forward and back as blows struck it from both sides.
Regdar, his greatsword buried to the hilt in the creature's body, stepped back. His left arm was still bleeding from the umber hulk's earlier attack. He watched the creature jerk and twist as it struggled with its enormous claws to reach the sword in its back.
Whitman unhooked a throwing axe from his belt and reeled back. With a guttural cry, the dwarf let the weapon fly. The head of the axe crashed with a pop into the monster's skull. Large, yellow-gray curds burst out of the wound, sloshing over Whitman's hammer resting on the floor.
The beast roared with a sound that was part hiss, part shriek, then it slumped to the ground with its head twisted at an odd angle.
Regdar reached into his backpack with his good hand and pulled out a silver flask. Uncorking it with his teeth, the fighter downed the potion inside. At once the wound on his left arm glowed, scabbed over, and diminished in size.
Whitman climbed over the fallen umber hulk to retrieve his hammer.
"Ack," he groaned. "Brain juice… all over my hammer." He pulled a cloth from his belt and cleaned the sticky liquid and yellow-gray lumps from his weapon.
Regdar let the empty flask fall to the floor and grasped his sword with both hands. Putting his foot on the dead creature's back, he heaved the blade free with a loud, squishing sound.
"Could be worse," he consoled the dwarf. "Could be zombie brain juice."
Whitman chuckled. "Here I thought zombies had no brains."
"I hate to interrupt your witty banter," came a lisping voice from inside the bathhouse.
Whitman whipped around. Regdar raised his sword and leaped over the fallen monster to stand by the dwarf's side.
A hooded, black-robed figure stepped out of the shadows into a dust-filled beam of light. "That was my umber hulk, and nobody kills my monsters except me." The stranger lowered his hood to reveal a disfigured human face. A puckered, gray scar covered the man's left eye and cheek. His upper lip was missing entirely, exposing his teeth and gums.
Extra air hissed out as he spoke words with a malformed mouth. "Now I must kill you both." With that, he waved his hands in the air and his voice rose to an unintelligible shout. Regdar didn't recognize the words, but he knew well enough that they meant magic.
Both fighters flung themselves sideways. A crackling bolt of blue-white electricity shot from the disfigured wizard's fingers. It jagged across the bathhouse and down the hallway. Despite their quick reactions, Regdar and Whitman both were caught by the snaking tendrils of electric power.
The bolt hit Regdar just below his hip. It passed right through his metal armor and spread out to scorch his entire leg. Whitman spun as he leaped for cover. That action saved his life. The bolt missed his ear by mere inches. Instead it smashed into his shoulder and knocked the stout dwarf facefirst against the wall.
Smoke rose into the air, and the smell of burned flesh wafted through the old bathhouse. The dark-robed wizard chuckled.
"Your turn," he said.
Whitman stood and hefted his hammer, shouting a single Dwarvish word-the magical command that activated his boots of speed. The old, gray-bearded dwarf bolted at the wizard. His feet moved in a blur. The alarmed wizard stumbled backward, obviously caught off guard by the dwarf's surprising speed.
Whitman's first blow landed on the wizard's chest. It was powerful enough to shatter ribs, and the man staggered back. His arms flailed at his sides as he struggled for balance. Gasping sounds filled the room as he tried desperately to fill his lungs.
The dwarf's hammer fell again, this time smashing the wizard's arm. Regdar heard bones snap under the impact. He let out a low whistle as he hobbled on his scorched leg toward the two men.
Lowering his sword in his left hand, Regdar balled his right hand into a fist and punched the wizard square in the face. His gauntlet clanked against the robed man's mouth. The wizard's head snapped back from the impact, and pieces of broken teeth clattered across the tiled floor.
The wizard collapsed to his knees.
Regdar rested his sword blade at the base of the wizard's neck. "Surrender."
The dark-robed man sat on the floor, probing the bloody holes in his smile with his finger. He looked up at Regdar, shrugged, then put his hands into his robe.
"Keep those where I can see them," threatened Regdar, and he applied some downward pressure on the blade.
The wizard smiled. Blood dripped from holes in his gums and ran down his chin. He withdrew his hands from his robes, but he held a small, pink ball of goo between two fingers. The substance flashed then disintegrated. Regdar squinted involuntarily to protect his eyes. The wizard lisped out two quick words, and he disappeared.
Shaking his head, Regdar growled. The sound echoed off the walls of the old bathhouse. Too late, the fighter sliced with his sword where the wizard had been kneeling. His greatsword struck nothing but the floor.
Regdar looked to Whitman. The dwarf shrugged, and both men scanned the room, their weapons at the ready.
In the corner, a cluster of glowing, blue-white orbs appeared. They floated in mid-air, casting an eerie glow on the darkened chamber. Both fighters stepped forward before the magical missiles lifted from where they hovered and streaked toward them. The lights swirled and blurred, then smashed into the human and the dwarf.
Regdar heard a short yelp escape his hps as the skin on his chest sizzled and popped. Despite the pain, the fighter charged toward the corner, his eyes trained on the apparently empty spot where the orbs had appeared.
In his mind, Regdar imagined the hooded man standing before him, casting the spell and dodging away. Lunging to his left as he reached the corner, the big fighter leaned into his strike, praying his hunch was correct.
His greatsword met resistance in what looked like thin air, then a flood of bright-red blood gushed across the blade.
Whitman, only a step behind, zeroed in on the freshly opened wound and swung his hammer in a flat arc. The head of the weapon connected with something that made a sickening crunch. Regdar's sword was pulled sideways by an invisible force. More blood gushed down the blade, then the wizard materialized in a heap on the floor.
Regdar pulled his sword free and wiped the blade on the dead man's robe. "So many bad men, so little time."
Then the big fighter sheathed his sword and walked into the darkness at the other side of the room.
Whitman balanced his hammer on his shoulder and looked down at the fallen wizard. He shook his head.
"Sweet gifts of Pelor," shouted Regdar. "Come take a look at this." He pulled off his helmet and let it drop. Loosening his backpack, he flung it to the floor in front of him and dropped to his knees in a pile of gold coins, gems, and books.
"Would you look at this," he said, picking up handfuls of coins and letting them slip through his fingers. The cascading treasure made a pleasant, jingling sound as it landed on the jumbled pile. "This guy and his umber hulks must have cleaned out most of the ruins."
Whitman lowered himself to the floor beside Regdar and began scooping swag into his backpack. He smiled and slapped his friend on the shoulder.
Regdar did the same, packing as much as he could carry. Between scoops of gold coins and huge jewels, the fighter lifted a rather plain-looking amulet with a single, archaic rune inscribed on its surface. Shrugging, he looped its leather band over his head and let the amulet hang from his neck. He smiled down at it momentarily, then resumed filling his backpack.
Several handfuls into the pile, Regdar uncovered a jewel-encrusted flask. He lifted it up to get a better look. Holding it out into one of the few beams of light that penetrated this far into the ruins, he examined the vessel. The opening at its top was sealed with red wax. Along its edges, embedded gems formed pictures of beasts and men, all fighting against each other. The scenes entranced Regdar, and he stared at the flask as if concentrating intently.
The bottle felt strange in his hand. It was heavy, much heavier than any potion the fighter had held. It wasn't the weight that concerned him. It was more of an impulse. Regdar felt as if the bottle might burst open at any moment, as if whatever was inside the flask was too big to be contained in such a small flagon, and if it stayed there much longer, the sides might just crack apart.
Regdar put his hand on top of the flask. The pressure inside the bottle seemed so great, Regdar thought the cork might pop out on its own. He grabbed hold of it with his thumb and forefinger.
Whitman dropped his fleshy palm on his friend's shoulder. "Perhaps we should leave that for the duke to deal with," he said.
Regdar shook his head, then looked down at the bottle again. "Yes," he said. "I think that would be best." He looked back up at the dwarf and smiled. "I don't know what got into me."
Shaking his head, Regdar shoved the flask into his backpack.