Book 4: Chapter 17: Trolling for Treasure
Bill
August 2334
Virt, Pits of Paebak
The troll lay at my feet, sliced in two, the halves neatly cauterized. I cleaned my sword—carefully—and re-sheathed it. I’d gotten the flame blade and some enchanted armor in exchange for the staff of fireballs and most of my portion of Gargh’s hoard. It had been a fair trade in that both myself and Saruman the Wise claimed we’d been fleeced. Still, neither of us backed out of the deal.
Our dungeon party was currently creeping along a dark hallway in the Pits of Paebak. When asked about the name, the current DM would only smile mysteriously and say that all would be made clear at the conclusion of the campaign. Which probably meant a bad pun or something was in our future.
Kevin was back as his original character, having left behind just enough identifiable pieces to allow a resurrection. Gandalf had used one of his scrolls, after taking all Kevin’s remaining worldly goods in payment. Kevin seemed to have finally gotten over the loss of his staff, thankfully. I hadn’t been subjected to any more glares, at least. Tim, who hadn’t left anything but floating ash, was back as a first-level thief. He was staying in the center of the group until he levelled up enough to not be killed by an inadvertent sneeze.
Verne, Pete, and I provided the muscle and sharp implements. So far, we’d been able to handle the encounters, but the increasing difficulty sent a pretty clear message that we were getting close to the payoff.
Gandalf strode along just behind me, acting like king of the mountain. I hoped his talents matched up to his attitude. He was remarkably closemouthed about his actual abilities and assets.
“That was a troll,” Tim said unnecessarily.