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FF: Enter the Halfling: Recovering the Ancient Daggers

Updated Fri, Feb 13, 2009 by Shayalyn

Enter the Halfling - Episode 2

Recovering the Ancient Daggers

by Orogurath


Pigface sniffed the stifling air and grunted.  Death was all around him, embedded in stone.  The rotting bones of long retired citizens and nobles left a dry, stagnant smell that caused him to wrinkle his mangled features.  

“Da piggygotsumpin yah yah?”

“Oooo…yah yah.”

Several satisfied looks were exchanged.  Pigface was never wrong, and he grinned, revealing his sharpened yellow teeth.  This place was laden with riches, and his knobby, twisted fingers pointed at the grim sarcophagi lining the walls.  

Cailag nodded, and the four companions gleefully began twirling their mauls in savage airborne patterns, exploding the sacred tombs and sending debris everywhere. One after another they desecrated the resting places of upstanding citizens, pocketing gems and coin until a shriek came from Gurblebag.

“Dibbydok! Gul bat!” (Son of a bitch--this one's not dead!)

The curious four watched as a disembodied skull gnawed on Gurblebag's backpack. The stubby little thug twirled around, desperately trying to reach behind him and dislodge the offending cranium, with no success. Cailag and Pigface rolled with laughter at their disturbed companion, while Preston stepped forward and pinned Gurblebag against the wall.  

“Ibbytuk ki keel wanna wanna!”  (Stand still you dumbass, I'll get it!)

“Yah yah yougetum, Preston!”  The panicked, chubby arms ceased to flail and Gurblebag stood stock still, back to his rescuer.  Preston helpfully gauged the threat level, hoisted his larger than necessary maul, and swung.

Gurblebag was suddenly aware that he was no longer in the crypt, but staring at the wall of the Waveside Tavern, with a Priest of the Silver Flame hovering over him.  

He brushed bits of skull and stone from his backpack, snarled at bystanders, and ordered a greasy chicken leg…to go. Preston was going to pay for that shot!

Back in the crypt, the remaining three howled with laughter at the stain that represented Gurblebag's ill-fate, then moved on to new excitement. It quickly occurred to all of them that the fastest Halfling would end up with the most loot, and a race began while they crushed every standing object within the catacomb.  

They finally came to a series of wooden doors, which curiously reached neither the ceiling nor the floor, leaving just enough room to glance through the cracks.
They piled up piggy back style, and Pigface pulled his yellow eyes to the level of the door crack.  

“Pada ungh tobato.”  (There's some guy standing there.)

“Dibber fillit buttabetta? (What's he doing in there?)

“Munch munch”  (Eating.)

Pigface twisted around, trying to squeeze further in the crack, when the door fell inward on its rusted hinges, spilling Halfling eavesdroppers into the small room.  The “guy” turned around and stumbled awkwardly toward Cailag, who extended a greeting.

“Meda Cailag…watcha munch munch kibble?”  (I'm Cailag; can we share your food?)

“Unhhhhhhhg”  (Unhhhhhhg)

The three exchanged confused glances, and decided to attempt its native language.

Cailag:  “Unhhhg?  We want goodies uhnnnng.”  (We're hungry and heard you eating.)

Pigface:  “UhRRRuhnng”  (Why are you all green and stinky?)

Zombie:  “Uhnnng. Unhhhhhhhg!”  (Brains!)

Preston:  “Shit.”

Moments later, three more Halflings appeared instantaneously in the Waveside Tavern, faces twisted in mid-scream and sporting several new teeth-mark scars on their heads.  
While they recovered themselves, a raging Gurblebag re-entered the tomb.

Needless to say, the skeletal guardsman in the main chamber was less than impressed at the ruddy little thug approaching. It was times like this he really wished he had eyes to roll in disgust.  Undaunted, he put down his copy of Cryptwarden Quarterly and apparated through the stone to confront the interloper.

“FOOL!” he boomed, “YOU WILL MEET YOUR DOOOOOOM! RISE, MY-“

Before he had finished his opening curses, the savage little monkey had already knocked out his bony legs and was swinging a large mallet right at his head.

“Bloody h-!”

With a crack, the magic within the tomb warped and dissipated as the Guardsman's skull shattered.  Gurblebag opened the glowing chest and snatched the Ancient Daggers.  After brief encounters with minor skeletons, he found his way out of the crypt and back to Lord Goodblade.

“Good heavens, you made it!” Goodblade was ecstatic. “Where are your companions? I believe I saw four of you.”  

Gurblebag wasn't quite sure what was being said, but pointed to the daggers and then to himself.

“Rok oochu mik shiny.”  (Whatever. Give me loot or I break your legs.)

Lord Goodblade furrowed his brow, then, anticipating the squat savage's intentions, handed over an average suit of scalemail.  

Satisfied, Gurblebag padded off to the Waveside, only to be confronted by the disgruntled-looking faces of his companions. Cut, scarred, broken, acid burned, and gnawed on, they were nursing bandaged limbs and sucking thumbs as the Silver Flame priests worked madly to restore them.

“Toku kupa karma karma!” he laughed, and showed off his shiny new armor.  (Karma's a bitch, isn't it?)

Preston rolled his eyes and gnawed on his lip. Perhaps it would have been more effective to pull the skull off Gurblebag's backpack before swinging his maul. When the priests were finally through, the four Halflings settled their grievances over a pint and some chicken, quickly falling back into the warmth of kinship and mirth. Satisfied that all was well in order, the four set out to meet their next contact, Guard Heoregar.


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