|
Sponsors:
|
Tunnels & Trolls Fantasy Role Playing Game : Gristlegrim Fiction : The Last Adventure of Big Jack Brass - Page 4
|
"It's too late to get cold feet now, Jack," laughed Tom. "Let's just take the treasure."
Despite the soft glow from the walls Jack shivered as though the room was thoroughly chilled. Thomas seemed not to notice, but then he was used to life indoors, whereas Brass was always happiest with the tang of salt spray in the air and a good breeze stretching the sails. In truth he was only undertaking this probably suicidal quest for Tom's sake, which did not help his feeling of unease at being trapped indoors; and a deathtrap, at that!
"Not much worth nicking, Jack," said the Whelp, his practiced thief's eyes evaluating the room in a second, "Cheap bugger's even left out the light-fittings. Can fetch a few quid too, decent candlesticks... Nice chest, though."
"Thanks very much," quipped Jack, his attention quickly shifting to skull shapes decorating the doors. The eyes looked deeply suspicious, more like switches of some kind. Jack's own peepers narrowed and his brow creased as the nature of the room became a fraction clearer to him. "So, he's having a game with old Jack, eh?" His voice was a low rumble and, as he often did when deep in thought or anxious, Brass tugged absently at his beard.
Tom had completed a brief circuit of the room and now stepped onto the blue marble platform to examine the ebony chest more closely. Hasp, hinges... nothing radically different from a typical sea-chest of the type Jack used to have before he was forced to lock an irate husband into it and push whole affair off Drollport dock. Tom allowed a brief smile to touch his lips, confident that no-one was looking. He began to whistle and drew his poniard.
At the door marked with a single skull Brass was no closer to deciding how the puzzle worked. He let out a sigh, a small gale from his mighty lungs and leaned on his warhammer. "Well, Jack," he said, "no dwarf god likes a coward; and doing nothing won't solve this puzzle-box. "Be on your guard, lad!" he raised his voice, then stabbed a meaty finger into the left eye of the skull.
Kneeling beside the chest, where he had just finished carving an obscene and certainly libelous graffito about Gristlegrim and the indigenous fauna of the area, Thomas reached his left hand around to the hasp and made to open it, his skilled fingers brushing the mechanism lightly as he checked for hidden triggers, his muscles tensed to spring him away from danger…
"Hold position, laddie, I need to investigate," called Jack over his shoulder, his keen ice-water eyes never leaving the room in front of him. He saw another large square room much like the one where he had left Tom, but this one had four large pentagonal stars engraved into the stone floor, each halfway between the center of the room, and a corner. Jack didn't like the look of them-- something he had once heard about summoning demons inside pentagons nagged at his memory. In the center of the chamber, there was a large ragged piece of carpet, and in the center of it another large sea chest suitable for storing treasure. Hefting his warhammer and glancing to the left and right of the doorway he stepped through and walked, with his rolling nautical gait, towards the center.
I'm getting cramp here, Jack," whined the Whelp in the awful nasal tones he believed were likely to encourage sympathy. "Jack? Oi! Deaf old sod... Now, my beauty, let's see how you open up and what you're a-hiding..." His lip between his teeth, the Whelp began to pry open the chest.
In the next room Jack was prodding the rags experimentally with the haft of his warhammer. He could guess at two possible scenarios, neither especially pleasant, and no doubt Gristlegrim had devised several others. Moving a section of carpet to allow himself firmer footing Jack tried to open the chest with his warhammer. "My father always told me that the two things to avoid in life are dwarven deathtraps and line dancing," he murmured, then grinned beneath his beard, "and I suspect he was right about line dancing."
Tom really couldn't wait. He pried up the haft and threw the chest open. There was a bammfffing sound and a brilliant flash of light that nearly blinded him and did leave him with big yellow spots in his vision. He looked around in alarm. He couldn't see Jack any more--that door was now closed.
|
Jack's story continues...
|
Please use the menu on the left to navigate this site.
|
