Happy Holidays!

 What Ho-Ho-Ho, to all you Revelers and Wassailers!

Once again the Holiday Season has befallen us.  And despite the relentless onslaught of Tribulations And Stumbling blocks this year has thrown us all, I do sincerely hope that it is a good season!

The Holiday Season means a lot of different things to a lot of different people.  To me it means Christmas.  So I'd like to wish you all a Merry Christmas!

I understand that some you may celebrate Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Yule, or Festivus, or something else entirely.  But it doesn't matter which words you use, because the underlying holiday spirit seems to be the same.  

So remember, whether someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, or a Happy Kwanzaa...what they're really saying is that they wish you Good Health, and Happiness, and hope for Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all People, regardless of race, creed, or gender.

I know that's what I mean.

So have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I hope you all return after New Year's Day to share in more adventures!  


Until then, I wish you all...

Good Adventuring!
Timothy A. Sayell

Quest to the Kobold Caves Part Seven

QUEST TO THE KOBOLD CAVES

A Dungeon Adventure

Part Seven

Snaptrap and Gurr led the heroes back to the Great Hall where they pointed out Razzam and Drang from the throng of some thirty kobolds. 

Sunthorn stepped into the cavern, unrolled the Scholar's scroll and recited the Magic Words printed upon it.  As he spoke them, each word on the scroll glowed and faded away, as though invoking the spell aloud burned the words from the page.  "Behold the truth!" he cried as sparks began to rain down in the Great Hall.

Just as when the Shaman cast it, the sparks gathered like fallen snow on the shoulders of the two phony kobolds.  The sparks burst into existence, and winked back out again, slowly burning away the magic of their disguise until two Hobgoblin-like Throghrin stood there instead of kobolds.

Razzam, unperturbed by this, pointed at the Elf with one clawed digit.  "Slay the surface-dwellers, or never see your kings again!"  As his command boomed through the cavern, the Kobolds turned to the intruders in the tunnel mouth and pulled forth their weapons.

With urgent impatience, Gladimenithas pushed Sunthorn aside and stepped forward.  His melodic voice issued a singsong string of Magic Words.  As he finished the incantation, he swept both arms out in a wide arc forming a pale blue crescent of glowing light that swept away from him like an ever-widening wave.  The wave swept throughout the cavern, and members of the kobold horde fell as they were overtaken by it.  When the magic wave hit and dissipated at the cavern walls, all the kobolds lay snoring on the cavern floor, in a magically induced slumber.

Drang roared in anger, his hands clawing at the empty air.  "Useless kobolds!"

Sunthorn raised one eyebrow.  "Impressive."

"I'm telling you, brother," Gladimenithas said as he tapped the side of his nose with one slender finger, "magic is the way to go!"

"Then let us bear the gift of magic!" Mediphon agreed as he held forth the Holy Sign of the Sun God.  "Let the blessing of the Sun God be upon us all!"  He uttered some Magic Words of his own and his Holy Sign glowed with a corona of white light.  A moment later, each member of his party likewise glowed with the divine magic.

Drang roared again as he grabbed his battle axe and swung it over his head.  "Die yoomins!" he shouted and charged.  Razzam seized his spiked mace and leapt down from his place atop the boulder and rushed to join his colleague's attack.                     

Gladimenithas stared at the onrushing Throghrin, his smug grin long gone and his eyes growing wide.  Without warning, he was thrust rudely aside as his fellow Elf, Sunthorn stepped in and raised his shield against Drang's descending axe blade.  The Throghrin pushed against the Elf's shield with such strength that Sunthorn's boots slid backwards on the rocky floor.

Sunthorn looked over his shoulder at his kinsman.  "Assistance would be most appreciated!"

"Oh, of course!" Gladimenithas agreed as he jumped to his feet and drew out his rapier.  With a gleeful laugh his rapier whipped about this way and that, inflicting small but quick scratches upon their monstrous enemy.  "What ho, you evil thing!  Come and get me if you can!"  Then he ran off for a far corner of the Great Hall with Drang chasing after him, his heavy axe held high, ready to strike.  Sunthorn lowered his shield, drew his sword and joined the chase.

"Come along, Gurr!  They will need us!" Snaptrap said as he and his sidekick chased after the Elves, with torches in hand.

Razzam still charged the tunnel.  Pamblyn and Mediphon stepped out to meet him.  Razzam's spiked mace lashed out at them in wide arcs.  It smashed down upon Pamblyn's shield, then swatted away the studded ball at the end of Mediphon's flail.  Distracted thus, he failed to see Elmore take up a position behind him.  Elmore's sword bit into the Throghrin's shoulder.

With a scream of pain, Razzam turned and slammed his spiked mace into the human warrior with all his strength.  Elmore fell to the ground, screaming in pain.  Razzam turned back, saw the incoming sword blade and jumped back.  Another swing of his mace and Pamblyn's sword was knocked from her hand. 

Before she could recover from the shock of losing her weapon, Razzam's free hand found her throat.  "Goodbye, yoomin!"

Pamblyn felt the odd sensation of her muscles drained of their strength.  Her body grew heavy, unresponsive to her commands.  She slumped on her feet, then fell to the floor amid the clatter of metal on rock.

"Die now!" Razzam said as he raised the mace.

Sunthorn's sword slashed across Drang's back.  With a howl, the Throghrin turned and swung his mighty axe.  The heavy blade, set in motion by such a strong arm was more than the Elf's shield could stand, and it shattered upon impact.  The beast-man raised the axe for a backswing when the rapier cut into his ribs.

Drang let loose a scream.  Instead of aiming for Sunthorn, his backhand swing knocked the flimsy rapier aside.  He lashed out with one clawed hand and seized the prancing Elf by the collar.  "You fall next, Elf!" Drang cried.  An instant later, Drang frowned at his own beefy hand at the Elf's neck.  He jerked his hand, shaking the slim Elf and grumbled, "Why don't you fall down?"

"Yes, that doesn't work on us," Gladimenithas said through a smile.  "Sorry, old thing!"

A sword-tip emerged from Drang's chest.  The Throghrin howled and let go of his quarry.  Upon his release, Gladimenithas plunged his rapier deep into the creature's chest.  The two Elves withdrew their weapons, and Drang tried to cry out in agony, but merely choked and fell over, the axe slipping from his hand.

"Hurry now, Gurr, before he regenerates!" Snaptrap barked.

Gurr produced a phial, pulled the stopper out with his teeth.  He poured the lantern oil onto Drang's body and Snaptrap pressed his torch against the fallen body until it caught aflame.

Razzam stood over Pamblyn's inert body, his spiked mace raised over his head. 

The clay pot flew out of the tunnel and smashed in his face, showering him in a thick viscous fluid.  Padrelle stepped out of the tunnel, a torch in one hand, a throwing dagger in the other.  "Elmore!" she cried, "Now's your chance!  Get him!"

Elmore had risen behind the Throghrin, his sword raised.  Though blinded by the oil, Razzam turned, swung his mace wildly, deflecting the Warrior's blows.  Padrelle threw her dagger, and it stuck in Razzam's shoulder, though he did not seem to notice.

But Mediphon seized this opportunity.  Inspired by the cryptic words he'd heard during his prayer to the Sun God, the Cleric crouched beside Pamblyn.  He recited the Magic Words to a Minor Healing spell until his hand began to glow with a luminescence of its own.  He reached out with his radiant hand and grabbed the warrior woman's arm.  The radiance ran from his hand with a bright burst and coursed through her body in the blink of an eye.

In fact, her eye did blink.  Her fingers convulsed into a fist, then stretched out again.  She looked up at the Cleric and smiled—she was no longer paralyzed!

Pamblyn grabbed her sword and climbed to her feet.

Razzam wiped the oil from his eyes with the back of one hand.  With a sneer, he swung his spiked mace, knocking Elmore to the floor again. 

"Bastard!" the Halfling cried as she ran up and lunged at the creature, fiery torch thrust before her like a knight's lance. 

Covered as he was in lantern oil, the fire spread quickly, engulfing him.  Razzam screamed with excruciating agony.  Dropping his spiked mace, he tried to swat the fire out with his bare hands, but it was no use.

With a battle cry that seemed to increase both her strength and resolve, Pamblyn brought her sword around in a wide downward arc.  The blade chopped deep into Razzam's neck, and his screaming stopped.  He dropped to his knees, pulling Pamblyn's arm down along with her sword, the blade wedged in his bones.  Gravity pulled against her strength as she swore at his corpse.  She lowered his body to the floor, placed one booted foot on his head and pulled her blade free.

"Victory is ours!" she declared, and the others cheered.

*  *  *

They had doubled back to the prison cavern, where the freed prisoners and the Arcanologists waited patiently.  Then Snaptrap and Gurr led the surface dwellers back to the mouth of the caves and removed the net that had blocked the exit to the forest.

"And what of my people?" the Kobold asked again as the Elven scholars and the human prisoners eagerly filed out into the afternoon forest.

            "I've told you!" Gladimenithas repeated.  "It was a simple spell to put them all to sleep.  It should wear off in another hour or so, and they will all be perfectly fine!"

"And just where will you be, if there is some problem with this?" Snaptrap asked, an accusing digit pointed at the Elf.

"There will be no difficulties, I swear it!" Gladimenithas told him.  "However, I must escort these Scholars back to the Greenwood, where they might organize a larger force for this expedition to the Temple of Magic."  Then he turned to Sunthorn.  "You and your friends would be a welcome addition to any such endeavor, by the way."

Sunthorn considered it for a fleeting moment.  "I don't know," he said at last.  "I must escort Pamblyn, Mediphon, and Padrelle back to the Aged Ranger."

"Yes!" the Halfling interjected.  "We must report to him of all that has transpired here!  Inform him of our success, and collect our reward!"

The Cleric looked at the Kobold with concern in his eyes.  "Have we succeeded?  We were meant to drive you kobolds away, so you could not pose a threat to the Kingdom.  I must admit, I haven't the heart to vanquish you, for I do not consider you a threat of your own volition.  But if the hobgoblins were to come and subjugate you once more, your people have proven they can be a considerable threat, indeed!"

"Bah!" Snaptrap dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand.  "We do not wish to be here.  I shall collect these stragglers into a pack, and plot to rescue our kings from the hobgoblins."  Then he looked up at the heroes with narrow eyes, as though measuring them up.  "In truth, you yoomins, and you Elfs…"

"And the Halfling!" Padrelle inserted.

"…have all proved better folk than it is our custom to believe," Snaptrap continued.  "In truth, I would welcome any assistance your people could offer against our common enemy, Ozbaddin."

Pamblyn looked at him with pride in her heart that powered a bittersweet smile.  "I promise you, Snaptrap, we will deliver your message to the King…"

"Yes, and I shall deliver it to the Elvenking!" Gladimenithas announced.  "I swear it!"

"…but I cannot promise you that he will send assistance," Pamblyn finished sadly.

Snaptrap's ears dropped with disappointment.  "No, I suppose not," he glumly agreed, "After all, we're only kobolds."

"Yes," Pamblyn admitted.  "And we are only human.  But I can promise you…that should my path cross yours again in the future, I will offer you whatever help I can."

The rest of the heroes agreed in turn.

The Kobold nodded.  "Then that shall have to do," he said.  "We part ways now as unlikely friends, waiting to see what the future brings to us.  Go now, back to your   peoples, and I shall go and tend to mine."  He answered their goodbyes with a wave and walked back into the caves, followed by Gurr.

The Heroes stepped out into the forest, where Gladimenithas and the scholars chose a path that would lead them back home.  Sunthorn led his friends in the opposite direction, to rendezvous with the Aged Ranger.  Elmore walked with them.

"So," the new Warrior asked, "what adventure is next?  Joining the Arcanologists in their search for the Temple?  Or assisting Snaptrap in rescuing the kobold kings from Ozbaddin?"

"It is a difficult choice," the Elf admitted as he marched through the woods.  "They both seem to be worthwhile adventures."

"Each with their own rewards!" Padrelle agreed.

"It will depend on the whims of our masters and the will of the Gods!" Mediphon said.

"Yes, we could end up on some other quest entirely," Pamblyn admitted.  Then she turned, looked at the freed prisoners they were leading through the forest, and back at Elmore.  "And what of you?  What will you do?"

"For now, my path lies parallel to yours!" Elmore said as he drew his sword.  "As I promised in the caves, I shall travel as a member of your party, and help in whatever manner I may!  Together we shall do good deeds and vanquish foes in the name of the King!  And for the glory of Haven Hills!"  He held the sword aloft as best he could, despite the pain in his arm.

The rest of the party groaned as they trudged through the forest.

The End

Follow the Map...

Greetings all you Treasure/Antiquity Seekers!

So...

When was the last time YOU stumbled across a treasure map?

Yeah, I can't remember the last time I found one, either.

But they are a major staple in adventure stories.  A definite trope. perhaps even a cliche.  Every pirate and every western bank robber is supposed to have a map that leads to his ill-gotten gains.  You know it, I know it, everyone knows it!  I wonder how many I actually know of...

First of all, there's "Treasure Island".  When young Jim Hawkins got his hands on Mr. Flint's map, he had himself a proper treasure map that led to a secret pirate treasure!  Of course, there were a band of pirates who also wanted the treasure, chiefest of all was Long John Silver.

Then, of course in "The Hobbit", Bilbo Baggins and Thorin's Company had a map that led to a secret entrance of the Lonely Mountain, where the dragon Smaug slept upon their stolen gold.  A cool map that boasts hints and riddles written in a special invisible ink that can only be read in the light of the moon.

Hmm...except for a map--that we never got to see--that was tattooed on the back of a blind violinist in a Doc Savage story...I can't really think of any more treasure maps in literature.  I must be reading the wrong pulp.  I'll have to go to the Internet Archive and find some digital copies of Adventure Magazine.  In the meantime, I'll move on to movies!

You recall the beginning of "Raiders of the Lost Ark", where our stalwart hero, Indiana Jones treks through forbidden South American jungles with untrustworthy allies.  At one point he consult a map that had been ripped into three pieces.  We never get a good look at that map, but I found this interpretation online.

What everyone really remembers is the Map of Souls in the lost city
of Tanis.  Because, of course, if you position the Staff of Ra in the proper place, the sun will shine through the jewel in the Headpiece and a beam of light will show you where to find the Well of the Souls--the resting place of the Lost Ark!

But that's not the only treasure hidden in Egypt!  we know this because of "The Mummy" movie with Brendan Fraser.  The ancient puzzle box is actually an all-purpose key that opens secret books and forbidden sarcophagi, and it contains a map to the Lost City of Hamenuptra, where the wealth of Ancient Egypt is hidden.  

Meanwhile, a pair of Spanish rapscallions named Tulio and Miguel....or is that Miguel and Tulio?  Anyway, during a dice game they managed to win a map depicting "the wonders of the New World".  Through a series of madcap misadventures that may or may not have been influenced by some divine intervention, they sailed to the New World and found that the map depicted "The Road To El Dorado", the City of Gold itself!  They found themselves in the unique position to save this virtual paradise from a bloodthirsty and lunatic priest, but also the imminent arrival of Cortes and his conquistadors.

Of course, sometimes you don't have to go so far to find treasure and adventure.  "The Goonies" found it all right in their own backyard!  Well, okay, in their own hometown.  Because when your father is the curator for the local museum, and uses the attic of his house as extra storage space...that increases the likelihood that you and your friends can find a treasure map that leads to One-Eyed Willie's wrecked ship, and all his plundered gold.  Of course, you have to read Spanish to have a chance at the riddles, and a few piano lessons will help you conquer the music notes on the back.

On the other hand, in "Romancing the Stone", romance novelist Joan Wilder received her mail and found the map to El Corazon, a big heart-shaped emerald wanted by some antique smugglers and a South American warlord. 

This was an especially cool map because you had to fold it over to find some of the clues, if you didn't, you would never find the jewel.  Then how would it ever get swallowed by the crocodile?

Then again, sometimes maps don't lead to a specific item or
place...sometimes a map can lead to several, uh, locations of interest.  For instance, Sao Fang's rotating map in "Pirates of the Caribbean:  At World's End".  This fantastic navigational device leads to several weird and wonderful locations; including Davy Jones' Locker and the Fountain of Youth.  Who knows what other mysteries it can guide one to?

The only map I can readily think of that may be even more fantastic, is the map that belongs to the Supreme Being.  It is a map of all the holes in Time and Space, and it was stolen by some disgruntled employees who decided to use it to steal great treasures from various historical figures, then escape to another time so they could never be caught.  And while they were pursued by the Supreme Being, they were also constantly watched by Evil One, who also wanted the map for his own nefarious schemes. That's right, I'm referring to "Time Bandits".  But here again, they may have been part of some Divine Plan without realizing it at the time.

That seems to be all I can think of right now.  Can you think of any prominent treasure maps from literature or film?  And no, I DO NOT mean the "Map of the Realm" that seems to be included in very Fantasy novel nowadays.  I'm talking a map that leads to an actual treasure, or magical place.  I'll have to read less Hero Pulp and more Adventure Pulp to try and find more.

Until then, I wish you all...

Good Adventuring!
Timothy A. Sayell

Quest to the Kobold Caves Part Six

QUEST TO THE KOBOLD CAVES

A Dungeon Adventure

Part Six

Snaptrap and Gurr led the way through the twisting tunnels.  Mediphon and Elmore followed close behind them, with Pamblyn and Sunthorn—still in kobold form—bringing up the rear.  The Shaman's workshop was a circular cavern some thirty feet in diameter with another tunnel across from them.  A small fire pit stood at the center, constructed of rocks capped with an iron grate that was in turn holding half a dozen mismatched simmering pots over the crackling fire.  The smoke drifted up to the high ceiling, where it escaped through some natural chimney hidden among the stalactites.

Ramshackle bookcases and makeshift tables were pressed against the uneven rocky walls.  They were populated with a haphazard array of books, boxes, stopped jars, clay pots, phials of glass and crystal.  Tables sported contraptions of pipe and tubing that allowed the liquids from different alembics to drip at various rates into a common gathering beaker.  An open jar of leafy twigs stood beside a crystal phial of shimmering pale powder.  A knife stood at an angle, its blade stabbed into the bloodstained tabletop beside a bowl of birds' feet.

"By the Bright Beams of the Sun!" Mediphon gasped as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the elaborate set-up.

Elmore gestured to some shelves that held bottles and vials of colored liquids.  "Shouldn't we, you know, confiscate some of this stuff?  Some of these potions might come in handy.  You know, use their own plan against them, that sort of thing."

Pamblyn wiped her muzzle with the back of one hand.  "No," she said with conviction, "Smash it all!"  To emphasize her words, she swept her arms over the nearest tabletop, knocking over pipeworks and causing earthenware to demolish on the floor. 

With a shrug, Elmore drew his sword and with two sweeping arcs of his blade the vials shattered into fragments, their contents soaking the shelves and dripping to the floor. 

The others followed form, knocking over the fragile equipment, the containers of weird ingredients, and brewing concoctions.  It was a cacophony of thuds, clatters, and the shrieks of breaking glass.  It all stopped the instant Gurr cried out in alarm and all eyes flew to the humanoid shape leaning against the mouth of the tunnel.

Snaptrap gasped as Gurr jumped behind him to peer over his shoulder. 

"K-korzadub!" Elmore stammered.  His fear diminished somewhat and he frowned for a closer look.  "What is wrong with you?"

Korzadub lay heavily against the stone wall, one hand clutching a red stain on his yellow jerkin.  His face wore a deathly pallor and glistened with sweat.  He reached forward with one hand to seize a rocky outcropping and pulled himself along on unstable, shambling feet. 

Sunthorn cocked his head to one side.  "Extraordinary!"

"That's impossible!" Pamblyn exclaimed, "We killed you!"

Elmore stood behind a trembling blade.  "Perhaps the Shaman raised him from the dead!  Shamans can do that, right?"

The Cleric held his arms out wide, gesturing for the others to stay well back.  "I'll handle this!" he said as he pulled the Holy Sun Medallion from his neck.  Mediphon held the sign of his god before him and issued his command:  "Begone unholy thing!  Turn away and issue no harm to these living persons!"

Korzadub reared away, raising his arms to shield his ugly face.  Then, he slowly lowered his arms to reveal a sharp-toothed grin.  "Foolish Cleric!  Korzadub lives!"  The monstrous humanoid lashed out with both arms, knocking the Holy Sign from Mediphon's hands.  Before the Cleric could recover from his surprise, Korzadub grabbed him by the throat.  "But you will die!"

Mediphon felt the strength evaporate from his body.  His arms grew heavy, unresponsive to his will.  His legs lost the strength to keep him standing upright, and he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Mediphon!" Sunthorn exclaimed.

"What is going on in…egad!  My workshop!"

Our heroes turned and saw the Shaman standing in their entrance tunnel, shocked stupefaction on his face.  A frown fell upon his brow and a sneer showed his sharp teeth just before he thrust one pudgy finger into the room and shouted, "Kill them all!"  At his command, eight kobold warriors charged past him, howling, weapons in hand.

Pamblyn dug her feet in, set to meet the charge.  Sunthorn adopted a ready stance by her side and was surprised when Snaptrap stepped up beside him.

The onrushing kobolds skidded to a halt, their howls abruptly cut short.  "What are you doing?" one asked them.  "Why would you protect these surface-dwellers?"

"They are not kobolds!" Horkrist shouted.  "Do not be fooled by their feeble trickery!  I shall show you!"  With a flourish, he waved his hands in the air, orchestrating the mystical gestures as he muttered the Magic Words.  As he finished his recital, he thrust one hand forward, palm out. 

A rain of sparks fell from the cavern ceiling, winking in and out of existence like fireflies.  These sparks flourished and multiplied around the two phony kobolds, though all others remained unaffected.  The sparks burned away their magical disguise and soon they were once again a Human woman and an Elf complete with their shields and armor.

Snaptrap slapped one hand against his forehead and staggered back.  "What?  How?  …Why?"  He was so shocked; he didn't realize that he had nearly backed into Korzadub, who reached forward with one deliberate hand.

"Lookout!" Sunthorn cried as he jumped between the two.  Korzadub pressed his hand against the Elf's chest, but nothing happened.  Sunthorn frowned down at the beast-man's hand, and pushed him away with his shield.  "Do not touch me, unclean thing!"

The kobold warriors gasped in shock and anger.  "That filthy hobgob tried to attack Snaptrap!  Get him boys!"  And as though of one mind, the kobolds charged once more.

Pamblyn seized the opportunity.  "Elmore!  With me!"  Then with a battle shout of her own that reverberated in the cavern, she ran straight for the Shaman.

Horkrist watched the kobolds charge with disapproving eyes.  "What are you…?"  Then the two human warriors ran at him with their swords at the ready.  He stumbled back into the tunnel, holding up his hands in a feeble attempt to keep them away.  "No!  N-no!  No-o-o-o!"  A few quick flashes of their blades and the Shaman fell to the floor just outside his workshop.

Sunthorn and the kobolds advanced on Korzadub.  The Hobgoblin backed away from the swords and clubs they swung at him.  Though the Hobgoblin deftly dodged most of the attacks, Sunthorn, with his long reach, managed a few gashes on him.  They were herding him back into the tunnel he'd entered by when suddenly his whole body jerked as he grunted in surprise.  Thrusting his chest forward, his face clouded over with uncertainty.  He opened his mouth, but only a raspy croak came out.

Then he fell face-first onto the cavern floor with an arrow protruding from his back.  Our heroes and their kobold allies all took a tentative step forward, each one bewildered by the same puzzle:  where had the arrow come from?

Another shape leapt out of the dark tunnel and they all jumped back as Padrelle landed behind the Hobgoblin's corpse and flung her dagger along with a cry for them to "Lookout!"

Her dagger flew straight and true, through the throng who all turned around just in time to see Horkrist, the Shaman, propped up on one arm with a wand in his hand and the Halfling's dagger stuck in his forehead.  Just as the image registered in their minds, the wand slipped from the Shaman's feeble fingers and once again he fell to the cave floor.

"Ha!" the Halfling exclaimed, "I knew you people couldn't get on without me!"  Her companions, happy to see her alive, surrounded her and bombarded her with congratulations and questions.  "How many times do I have to tell you people?  I am unkillable!  Besides, while you guys have been fooling around up here, I had to go save a bunch of Elves.  Hey Glad, c'mere and meet my friends!"

Gladimenithas entered the ruined workshop, leading his eight Arcanologists.  With a smirky grin, he threw his long golden locks over one shoulder and presented them with his best side.

"He's Glad-he-met-with-us," Padrelle said.

"Gladimenithas," he corrected.

Padrelle shrugged.  "Just call him 'Glad' for short.  And these guys are all that's left of an expedition to some long-lost temple.  They need our help getting out of the caves so they can go home."

"Oh, I say, excuse me!" one of the Arcanologists interjected.  "You do realize that there is a Throghrin lying on the floor here?"  He indicated Korzadub's corpse.

"A what?" Pamblyn asked.

"A Throghrin," the Scholar repeated.

"Is that some Elfy word for hobgoblin?" Elmore asked.       

"No, the Throghrin are a terrible perversion of nature.  A prime example of what magic can do when entrusted to the wrong hands," the Scholar told them.  "Some time ago, a wicked wizard used magic to combine a hobgoblin, a troll, and a ghoul.  The result is the creature you see before you:  it most resembles a hobgoblin—though not quite; it can regenerate like a troll—though at a much slower rate; and it possesses the paralyzing touch of an undead ghoul—though, like a ghoul's touch, we Elves are immune."  All his fellow Arcanologists and their protector beamed with pride at this announcement.

Sunthorn turned to Pamblyn, a triumphant smile advertising his newfound understanding.  "That's how Hal was still alive when we opened the cell!"

Pamblyn copied his grin and his excitement.  "And how Korzadub came back to life and got off of that spear!"

Padrelle held up one hand, then pointed at the dead Throghrin with the arrow in its back.  "Wait a minute, do you mean that if we just hang around here long enough, he's gonna come back to life?"

The Arcanologist shrugged.  "He might, Halfling, he might.  Their regeneration hasn't been properly studied, but it should work similarly to trolls.  Now a troll will regenerate unless its body is utterly destroyed."

"What do you mean utterly destroyed?" Elmore asked, "Like…how?"

"Oh well, uh, you could use a Disintegrate spell," the Scholar told them, "Or perhaps a Wish…"

"Our wizard is dead!" Pamblyn announced.

"And he wasn't that powerful when he as alive!" Padrelle chided as Gladimenithas glared at her with a sour grimace.

The Scholar scratched his pointed ear.  "You could throw acid on the body…"

"Acid!" Sunthorn cried, "This is the Shaman's workshop!  Everybody, look for some acid!"

"We just smashed everything in the room!" Elmore barked back, "If there was any acid in here, we already wasted it!"

Gladimenithas turned to the aging scholar.  "Is there no other way?"

"Well, you could just burn the body," the Arcanologist said.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Pamblyn said as she walked up to the firepit.  She sheathed her sword; laid her shield on the floor.  Then, using her cloak as insulation,she grabbed the metal grate and lifted it up.  "Snaptrap, if you could, please?"

With a smile on his snout, the kobold reached in and grabbed a branch from the fire.  Padrelle produced a clay pot from beneath her cloak.  "Lantern oil," she said as she opened the cork and poured the contents over the Throghrin corpse.  Snaptrap lowered his burning branch and the fire quickly spread along the dead body.

"I'm sorry, but just what is going on here?" Gladimenithas asked.

"I'll tell you what's going on," the Cleric's voice drifted up from his inert body.  Elmore and Sunthorn rushed over and pulled him to his feet and held him up by the arms. 

"Are you all right?" Sunthorn asked him.

"Perfectly fine," the Holy Man replied.  "You know, it's the oddest sensation to be paralyzed.  You can hear.  You can see.  But no matter how hard you try, you simply cannot move your body!"  Then he turned and stared at some faraway spot of the floor as he remembered the vague clues the Sun God had given him. "They are like ghouls, but they are alive!"

Gladimenithas nodded with a wide grin.  "Fascinating!" he said in a polite but phony tone.  "Again, what is going on?"

"The Throghrin are using the Shaman's potions to turn themselves into Kobolds," Mediphon explained.  "So they can direct the Kobolds in their endeavor to turn these caves into a war base for Ozbaddin and his Hobgoblin army!"

"I see," Pamblyn said as she retrieved her shield from the floor.  "So to end this mess, we've got to get rid of the rest of the Throghrin."

"Yes," the Cleric agreed.  "There are two of them left:  Razzam and Drang."

"But what are we going to do about them?" Snaptrap asked.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do…" Pamblyn announced.

To Be Concluded...