In which, as it happens, Thob meets some old friends:
The goblin (as she called herself) was named Strodno Ursourar. And Thob hadn’t heard wrong—according to Strodno, goblins did in fact live forever. “Not that it’s always a blessing,” she said, glancing back at the castle they had just left.
“So,” said Thob, to make conversation, “what’d you do before you got, uh, stuck in there?”
“I was a surgeon for a while. That’s how I became a holy meadow.”
“A what?”
“I forgot—you don’t know anything. I’m a priestess of Egesh Bravedheather, goddess of healing.”
“No kidding! That’s who I worship. Well, ‘worship’ is a bit strong, I guess, but I try to, you know, keep in touch with her, generally…”
“Would you be quiet? You’ll wake the undead.”
Strodno didn’t seem to like him much. Thob tried to ease the mood with a few jokes and kind words, but that just made it worse:
She liked telling jokes, but Thob’s apparently weren’t good enough for her.
They were heading southeast, towards some of the old villages near the town, which Strodno called “Confineface.” As they walked and talked, a certain smell lingered in the air: the smell of death, getting stronger. Suddenly Strodno grabbed Thob’s arm, and pointed off to the south. A figure was approaching them, a tall creature with long, unkempt hair. The figure was completely naked and, apparently, quite dead.
Strodno began to run away, which Thob considered a good idea; but after a few steps she stopped. “No,” she muttered, “not this time. They stuck me in that castle… I will have my revenge!”
“Back me up!” she shouted to Thob, and rushed at the zombie.
An ornamental gemstone knife, unsurprisingly, was not a great weapon, even against bare decaying flesh. But neither was Thob’s pick—both hacked at the corpse, tearing great gashes in its limbs, but nothing seemed to take it down. Suddenly it lunged at Strodno and bowled her over, collapsing on top of her. Rotting fingers reached for her face—until the steel pick pierced into its skull, and it went limp.
“If you’re going to charge into battle,” said Thob, “we need to get you a better weapon. And some armor.” He scanned the horizon. “I think I’ve got it. Come on.”
The smell of death remained constant as they passed through old hamlets on the way, and obscure figures moved in the misty distance.
“Watch it,” said Strodno, “this place is crawling with zeds.” She pointed to the east. “Looks like they’re coming from the tower.”
“Good. They’ll be gone when we get there.”
“You’re going to the
tower?!”
“Sure!” Thob said. “Those places are loaded with loot—with any luck, we’ll find some armor in your size.” She just stared at him.
Just as they approached the village they heard voices—quite a few voices. They crouched, sneaking through the grass until they could see the interlocutors.
A living dwarf! And not just any dwarf—Thob recognized him as Ducim Woodflew, a fellow from Lawmined. What was he doing way up here?
“Ducim!” he called—Strodno flinched and began looking around worriedly—“It’s me, Thob!”
Ducim squinted at him. “It is you!” he said. “Hey guys, it’s Thob! ‘e’s alive!”
At this a posse of dwarves came running.
“When ye didn’t come back,” said Ducim, “we gave ye up for dead. Say—ye ever find any booze?”
“No; I’m still looking. That’s why I haven’t come back. But why are you out here?”
“Same reason as you—Nish sent the lot o’ us out for alcohol! It’s an important mission.” Ducim seemed to notice Strodno for the first time. “Who’s this, Thob?” he asked. “Ye all right, ma’am? Ye look a bit… green.” Strodno’s face fell.
Thob and the dwarves from Lawmined chatted for some time, swapping stories about their adventures. Many in Ducim’s crew were pale and retching—signs Thob knew all too well.
“It’s that blasted bright devil up there,” said Ducim. “What kind o’ hell is this ‘surface’?”
“That’s nothing,” said Thob, “compared to the monsters. Put the cavern beasts to shame, they do.”
They listened attentively to his admittedly embellished tales. “A hyena,” he said, when asked, “it’s a bit like a manera, but… ten times the size! And it travels in packs of twenty or more!”
“And ye killed them all? More to ye than I thought, Thob.”
But the day was getting on, and with all those
things roaming around Strodno looked worried—apparently she didn’t trust a group of armed dwarves against some half-rotten zombies. Thob thought he’d best be moving on: “Maybe we could travel together?” he asked Ducim.
The other dwarf, however, shook his head. “We’re hardly in travelling condition,” he said, looking at his vomiting companions. “And anyway, travel where? It’s all ruins—no one around but the undead. I’ve half a mind to head back to Lawmined.”
“I’m not stopping till I’ve had a drink,” said Thob. “I guess we’ll just keep poking through the rubble, then.”
“Well, good luck to ye,” said Ducim. “Watch yerself out there, Thob.”
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Topic: Thob Goes to the Surface (Read 62249 times)