“Is someone coming with the artifact or not?”
“You don’t know that,” Russell reminded him. “All you know is that you just killed a bunch of guards. If you want to see if anyone else completed the dungeon, then you’ll have to wait around and watch.”
“Maybe this time we could try talking first, if anyone comes out,” Tim suggested. “It’s possible other characters gave up too, and don’t have the artifact.”
“But they have other things,” Terry said. “Gold pieces, weapons, magic items, all things that can belong to us if we kill and loot.” At present, his character was rifling through the pockets of a guard who had only a few trinkets on him and whose entire net worth was less than a single gold. The rogue stuffed his bag with every item the still-cooling corpse held.
“Ignore him, he’s been a buzz-kill the whole campaign,” Mitch said.
“Yeah, he tried to get us to talk to the guards,” Glenn reminded everyone.
“I just thought they could be reasoned with. They were people with a job; maybe a little gold could have made them look the other way.” Tim rolled his own D20 along the map, avoiding eye contact with the others.
Russell continued digging through the module book, ignoring the sniping going on around him. Tim was actually right; the guards were all poor and could have been bought off for the right amount. That was information the party didn’t have, however, because everyone who could impart it was already dead. As his hands danced past the page with the guards, he found what he was looking for. There it was: which characters succeeded if the adventuring party failed. He was positive he remembered it being no one, but it never hurt to double check.
“Hmmm.” His eyes scanned the page, only moderately surprised to find the entry different than he recalled. Russell had misremembered so many things, it was almost like the book was purposely changing on him.
“What does ‘hmmm’ mean?” Mitch asked, impatience evident on his slightly flushed face.
“It means, tell me what you each are doing.” Russell set the book down and looked at his players. “Like I said, if you want to see if anyone is coming, you have to wait.”
“Oh, we’ll wait, all right,” Mitch replied. He glanced at the others, flashing a wicked grin which all but Tim returned.
Eric poked his head out first. Even though they’d decided to take the diplomatic route and see if the guards responded to a bit of gold, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t immediately shoot at anyone exiting the dungeon. As the spryest of the party, plus the only one fully healed from their encounter, Eric was the natural choice to test the guard’s willingness to listen. He surveyed the landscape, watchful for arrows coming in his direction, but none appeared. There also didn’t seem to be any guards about, though his keen eye did catch splatters of blood on the grass near the guards’ tent.
“I think something might have happened to the guards.” Eric motioned for the others to follow him then stepped fully from the dungeon’s cave entrance. Putting his hands together, he cupped them in front of his mouth and let out a loud yell. “Hello! Is anyone about?”
The only response was silence and a soft rustle of wind through the forest trees.
“Maybe there was a monster attack?” Gabrielle pulled her axe free of its sheath, wincing slightly as she did. Aldron’s last blow had torn something in her shoulder, and until Thistle regained his magic, she’d have to muddle through the pain.
“Too clean.” Grumph had no magic left, but he gripped his bone-sword tightly. He’d come too far to go down easily. “Monster would have shredded the tent.”
“Aye, you’re right, old friend.” Thistle pulled his daggers free, twirling them once in each hand. “What we have here are signs that another party also wanted to leave the dungeon, and did so over the guards’ protests.”
“Then, shouldn’t there be bodies?” Eric asked.
“Could have been moved. Could be scavenger monsters. Lot of options,” Grumph grunted.
“So… is this just a free win? No guards, no one to deal with?” Gabrielle was a bit relieved at the idea of getting through this without combat. She’d hoped the guards would take the bribe, but if they hadn’t, the only option remaining was fighting. That would have been exceptionally risky since everyone in the group, except Eric, was already halfway dead.
“It looks that way,” Eric agreed. His eyes swept the forest once more, and he noticed a slight rustle in one of the bushes. It was tiny, likely a rodent or the wind, and he would have dismissed it as just that if not for the flowers blooming in its viridian depths. They were a brilliant scarlet, as though they’d been dipped in flaming blood.
“Red flowers.” Eric pulled his short sword free as he stared at the bush.
“Beg pardon?” Thistle asked.
“Grumble told me to tip my bartenders, be nice to people who knew where I slept, and to watch out for a bush with red flowers. Those flowers are definitely red, and I think I’ve seen it move twice since I’ve been watching it.”
“I was really hoping this would be a free win,” Gabrielle sighed, bringing her axe to the ready. She’d just gotten it into position when the four figures burst forth from behind the bush.
“This is bullshit! We totally should have been able to surprise them!” Mitch had actually stood from his seat at the table and was glowering at his D20, resting lazily on the number two.
“You got a two on your Sneak roll, and they have a high Vision,” Russell said. “You fail to surprise the party, so no bonuses.”
“Don’t worry about it. We can take them, anyway,” Glenn said. “I’ve got first in the turn order, and I’m going to let loose with my last spelclass="underline" Blazeferno. I’ll cover them in fire so hot, it will melt the flesh from their bones.”
“Just don’t let it destroy any of their gear,” Terry protested.
“Let’s see if you even succeed first,” Russell said. It was a pointless exercise; the roll for Glenn’s min-maxed wizard was ludicrously low, but the rules demanded it. “Roll your Casting check.”
“Gladly.” Glenn tossed the green D20 across the map, where it rolled between the figurines without disturbing a single one. It slowed down, clearly showing a nineteen on top. Then, at the last instant, it moved just a touch more, and a new number stared up at the waiting players.
“I got a one? No, it was on nineteen, you all saw it!”
“Bad rolls happen,” Russell replied. He might not have taken quite such joy in it if the group hadn’t been such a relentless pain throughout the entire campaign. “You fail to cast Blazeferno, successfully and no harm comes to the other party. Now, roll again to see if you hurt yourself with that critical failure.”
The thrum that filled Eric’s body nearly knocked him from his feet. As soon as the enemy wizard began to cast, Eric could feel The Bridge awaken, power surging outward. He could almost see it happen before it occurred: first, the wizard was calling forth magic, then, the spell was about to convalesce into a hellish spell of flaming death, and then, at the last moment, something shifted. The fiery blast meant to destroy them was gone; instead, the wizard was struggling to put out his now blazing robes.
Grumph, Gabrielle, and Thistle didn’t hesitate to capitalize on the momentary advantage, pressing forward with an attack of their own. Eric tried to join them, but the sensation surging through him made even the smallest of movements difficult.
“What… what are you doing?”
The Bridge didn’t answer him in any tangible sense, nothing as clear as the “stop” he’d gotten in the fight with Aldron. Instead, he received a vague feeling of certainty and relaxation, as though whatever was going on was well in hand; all he had to do was play his part. Without even realizing he was doing so, Eric had reached into his pack and pulled out The Bridge. It shone in the sunlight, or perhaps the sunlight shone in it; such distinctions grew fuzzy when Eric clutched it in his hands.