A small figure hidden in a crack in the arched bone of the ceiling took notice as the latest visitors entered the Pit of the Butcher. Toadwhacker had risen to the esteed position of Front Lookout and liked his job. He got to nap twenty-three and a half hours a day and only ca down from his perch to scoop up his grub in an old bucket before climbing back to his perch. When soone actually had the balls to do more than peak in the front gate, he pulled on a string that rang a small bell and alerted the crew of minions on call at the front entrance. Every foray into the dungeon by a group of adventurers was a possible payday and a break from the boring jobs of cleaning up after the creatures that made the Pit their ho.
A minion's life was tough, being at the bottom of the pecking order in any dungeon, but for the quick and the daring, there were so rewards. The gristle daemons were stupid, with muscle for brains. They'd kill anything that entered the pit, not bother to loot their victims, and then leave the ss for the minions to clean up. And while a lot of the good stuff on players went into their headstones at the start of the dungeon they sotis dropped weapons or other items. If a quick-thinking minion could hide the loot before the Squealer and his toadies ca to collect it, then the whole crew would eat well for a week or two. And if a player was stunned or unconscious? Things might just disappear in the middle of a fight. Those were the best days. The crew would sit around later eating the food they found in the adventurers's packs and giggle about stripping them naked.
The minions had worked long and hard to make sure the Pit was ready for visitors. The lamps burning tallow gave off little light and filled the air with acrid smoke. The flickering light enhanced the carefully decorated halls of cracked black stone mortared with the crushed bones of man and beast. athooks dangled from the ceiling, so with skeletons or zombies mingling with the rotten bodies. The piles of bleached bones had been dusted and polished to show off their gnawed ends. Deep underground, two minions jumped up and down on drums made from the skulls of Jotun and thick mammoth leather, beating out a soulful dirge.
A small ssenger made his way to Toadwhacker, and the Lookout was tempted to push him and watch him fall. Toadwhacker didn't like Stinktoe. Besides his awful foot odor, the little shit had stolen a nice piece of look from Toadwhacker, and Toad wanted so payback. But that was for later. Minions knew better than to screw around when a group was in the dungeon. If they pissed off a butcher, or worse! The Butcher, they'd be ground up and used to make a daemon.
"Whatcha got, Toad? Whatcha got?"
"Keep it quiet, stinky. I'm trying to get a handle on this group. Sothing's off about them.
"Whacha an? Off?
"I an, "ain't proper adventurers." I an, look at them, they're just coming in."
"Looks fine to , T-Whack. They've got a wizard in the lead with a little flappy familiar. No armor plus staff equals wizard. Then a fancy-dancy type with a little armor, a pointy sword, and a nice hat. (Dibs on that hat, by the way.) No lute or flute, so he's a duelist. Ain't hard to figure out. Ooooh....now that one's pretty."
"Call T-Whack again, and you're dead. But yeah, very pretty. Too pretty. But ignore what she looks like. That's a high-tier cleric. Plate armor and staff. Bet she's connected real good. I hope we don't have to deal with any summoned incarnations today. Angel blood is so hard to get out of the stonework. And behind her...oh, screw !"
"What? The big dumb bodyguard?"
"NO! You fething idiot. Look at the cleavers. Two of them, and made for flaying and slaying. Bloody gloves, bloody apron. That's a butcher down there, stinky! This is so serious shit going down. We might even get so cleaver-on-cleaver action going today! Let's see how they do against the first Daemon, there's always one roaming the front hallway."
The two minions watched as the group stopped and got ready to enter the dungeon properly. The wizard dropped back and put his staff in a sling on his back. The Butcher moved to the front, gaining three feet in stature. The cleric moved behind him, with the Duelist and Wizard flanking. An odd formation, but this was an odd group. The Daemon sensed them and charged. The Butcher said sothing particularly rude to it and got its attention. The spike-thrower ca up, and a bone shard flew at the Butcher, catching him in the chest and bouncing off.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Oh shit, not good."
"Impressive apron!"
"Too impressive. he should have been skewered. The bastard just chuckled a little."
Undeterred, the Daemon charged forward, only to be hit from all sides. The Wizard used a shape-changing spell, turning into an armored warrior. Wizards trying to cheat and beco lee fighters by use of a shape change were generally disappointed; it still took skill to wield their new weapons. This one must have practiced a lot. Both scything talons carved deep into the daemon's back, slicing off chunks of at.
"That shouldn't have...oh...SHIT! We need to upgrade the status to a party of five, hitting above their weight class. Soone sent in so ringers."
The little woman that the minions had assud was a familiar transford into a nightmare with six limbs, all ard with small cleavers. It darted around the daemon, severing its tentacles. The large, faceted eyes road around as it did, and at one point, it focused on the two minions. Fear made Stinky cry out in terror. But the creature ignored them, deeming them no threat, and focused on chopping the tentacles into small piles. A gleaming arrow of light illuminated the dim room as the Cleric invoked a god and sent the projectile through the daemon's head. No brains ant no pain, at least, but the top of the Daemon was charred at.
Then, it was all chopped at as the Butcher unleashed his fury upon it, one blow coming down on the confused Daemon's head, and the other took off its walloping arm at the shoulder. The cumulative amount of damage was too much, and the thing collapsed on the ground. The Wizard was delighted. "This thing has at for loot? It dropped two Pri-Cut Porterhouse Steaks. They must be ten pounds each. I wonder where these ca from. Slls like beef! Not that Squirmie and I are picky."
"And everything is sausage. There must be a half-ton of at here. Nicely marbled, too. I'm stuffing this in my bag."
The Butcher reduced the daemon to a dozen chunks and stuffed the whole thing into a bag hanging on his belt. The minions shook their heads in horror. at needed to be recycled, not taken from the dungeon. This would an more work for Oink and the other Butchers who crafted the Gristle Daemons.
"That went down quickly. Not like the first one we tangled with. I only had ti for one spell."
The Butcher chuckled, "Just a baby, only level 18 and not even a Nad. With our butchering skills and abilities that do extra damage to Demons, we hit it pretty hard. This place may be fun, after all."
Above, the quivering minions watched, not daring to move. They recognized the techniques now and were sure that if they were to check the Guild logs, each of these adventurers would be registered with the Butcher's Guild. Soone was going to have a lot of work to do to replace the Daemons they slayed today; Toadwhacker was sure of it. "Stinky, skedaddle and fill the crew in. Tell them to be extra careful with this bunch. Give them room to work and stay hidden. We don't have a good idea of what we're dealing with, but it's bad! Get a second crew ready, but don't tell them all the details. You can't trust those guys. They'll run to Squealer and trade the info for an extra few minutes of nap ti. If that fat bastard hears that he might have to pay out so good loot, he'll be an for a week and bla us.
"You got it, T-whacker!"
Squirmie heard the sound of a minion slamming into the floor and moaning in pain, but she was focused on her next kill, which was just coming around the corner. The group moved down the hallway to et it, the Butcher whistling a jaunty tune as they tore into the second Gristle Daemon of the evening.
Below, the drum minions were told to pick up the beat, and four more joined them with smaller drums. Mignik, Oink, and Grinder were alerted that they were needed. Oink finished his latest masterpiece, it only needed a na. Nas were hard for Oink. This was a nasty Daemon, freshly made and hungry with extra mouths. It howled like a dog waiting for its dinner. Oink nodded, "Hungry Dog, it is. Go get them, boy."
User Comments
0 comments from readers