Copyright William Read 1998 - -Send email if you like or dislike something to:
email: wrezzzad@ucsd.edu - -(remove the zzz in the address!)The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.Chapter 18
As they drew near, Napoleon caught a terrible odor. Following it, he led Robigus and Bungston to some grisly shapes decorating the cleared perimeter of the castle. Gory heads mounted on long sticks had been planted around the cleared area, all in varying states of decomposition. There were also a few unfortunates who had been impaled whole, with the stake running clear in one end of the body and out the other, and a crosspiece to keep the disgusting mess from sliding down to the the ground. "It doesn't look like the count is the friendly sort," growled Napoleon. "He might not want to give you his magic thing."
Bungston wrinkled his nose and gnawed his nutmeg to kill the stench. He got madder and madder as he stomped around surveying the brutal trophies. "There's nothing I hate worse than torture and sad endings. We should steal all of this jerk's treasure. We ought to rob that mean monkey's ass blind then hide his cane. I hate meanness. I wish I had been here when he was doing this; I would have showed him a thing or two."
Unlike the irate wizard, Robigus was completely unfazed by the grisly trophies decorating the castle grounds. The warrior's attention was focused on the castle itself. It was not a huge castle, but it was solid with high walls adorned by merlons and spires. No life stirred within. He pulled man and mutant back into the forest edge and whispered intensely. "Bungston, the chance is great that they will refuse us entry. We are too few to storm this castle if we are detected, and so we must disguise our presence here. We must hope to secretly enter, by way of ropes or a postern door."
Napoleon was about to come up with a lame pun on postern, but he paused instead and sniffed the air. "Hey guys, this is weird, but do you smell something really good?"
Bungston looked at him sharply. "You think those reeky dead people smell good? That's sick."
Napoleon was about to reply when Robigus shushed them. A torch came into view on the ramparts of one of the high towers. They were too far away to tell who or what was carrying it. Bungston reached around for the ultralamp but Robigus shook his head and scowled murderously, so the wizard relented. The torchbearer lingered for almost a minute, his torch almost blown out by the wind. Then it disappeared. "Did you see?" whispered Robigus? "Surely, our unguarded conversation has caught the ear of some sentry, and he scans the grounds for intruders."
Bungston nodded. "You're making sense, Bob. Let's rub my black makeup on our faces and go reconnoiter ninja-style. We'll look for that postern gate you mentioned; maybe I can transmute it and we can sneak in there." The wizard turned to fetch the makeup from his Voyageur pack, and noticed Napoleon was no longer by his side. "Nap? Napoleon?"
The trademark chainsaw rasp called back across the clearing. "Just a second. I want to check something." Napoleon's shaggy silhouette moved in a crippled tiptoe towards the castle.
"Nap! Come back!" At least the big dog was trying to be sneaky, but sneaky was not a mutant forte. Bungston decided to forgo the makeup, and he slung the pack onto his back. "Bob, I guess its do or die now. Let's go knock."
Robigus dashed with the wizard towards the main door. "We must watch for secret openings in the ceiling; a barbarian like this would not hesitate to pour quicklime to burn an innocent visitor." The gate was iron-bound wood, with businesslike black spikes set in the metal bands. It was recessed in past the wall, so anyone approaching would have to stand beneath an overhang; this gave Robigus' trepidations about quicklime some validity. Humanoid sculptures watched them from the stone pillars on either sides; probably saints, though Bungston. Or maybe not; saint sculptures didn't usually smirk like these were. Robigus kept his eyes up as they walked through, watchful for any falling portcullis or other assault from above.
Napoleon was sniffing around the gate when wizard and warrior caught up, and Bungston beat on him with the Wolfwhacker staff. "What were you thinking, running off half-cocked like that? Bob and I were making a plan."
Napoleon did not even try to retaliate for the rubber mallet thumps he continued to absorb. He looked around in distraction, constantly sniffing at the air. "Can't you smell it, guys? You've got to smell it. There's something great in here. Mmmm."
Bungston stared at the fixated mutant; he had known Napoleon a long time and had never seen him act this way. The wary wizard raised his noble nose and snorted fiercely, but smelled nothing special except nutmeg and the putrid cadavers behind them. Robigus didn't smell anything either. "What is it Nap? Is it food?"
"Not food," he replied absently. He sniffed a small square opening about six inches across set into the gate.
"Maybe its our magic quest thing, then. Excellent! I like the idea of a good smelling magic thing. But say, Nap, you should go hide around the corner while I knock. We don't want them taking out the candelabras, at least not until I explain what's going on. Not even then. Go on, hide." Robigus escorted the reluctant mutant around the corner then returned to stand by Bungston. The wizard gave the mildewed patch on his arm a quick scrub, then got his mallet staff swinging and pounded a solid series of pounds on the wooded gate. "Open up! We just want to talk! We won't steal your stuff!" Bungston gave Robigus a conspiritorial wink after this last.
The window in the gate opened and the pyramidal head of a crossbow quarrel poked out. It pointed at Bungston heart. The wizard moved sideways, but the pointy tip tracked him. "Who are you?" asked a strange gruff voice from inside. It sounded like someone who didn't really have a gruff voice was trying to make it sound like he did.
"I'm Bungston Schagg, a wandering savant. This is Robigus, and he's a knight errant. We would like to talk about magic."
There was a long pause, and the quarrel disappeared back into the window. "Who else is with you? Tell me!" asked the pseudo-gruff voice. The voice did not sound threatening. It sounded strained and frantic.
Bungston cleared his throat nervously, guessing that someone must have seen Napoleon skulking across the grounds. "That would be a certain friend of mine. He has, ah, a skin condition, atrocious yet completely harmless and not contagious, and I assure you... Napoleon! Get back where you were!" Napoleon had slipped up during Bungston's ad-lib and was sniffing at the window. "You're going to get a crossbow bolt in the nose!" Bungston and Robigus teamed up to drag the mutant away from the window. But now Napoleon was now actively trying to keep his ground, and instead of dragging him away the two men just pushed him lower and lower. His great furry head and black nose stayed trained on the door. "Bad!" said Bungston, feeling stupid. "Bad Napoleon!" The wizard shouted back toward the gate. "I'm very sorry please excuse him he's wearing a costume. I mean a coat, a big fur coat he's had a bad accident he's a trained ape..." Then he shut up.
The gate opened slightly and a woman emerged. She was carrying a torch and wore an elegant dark blue dress with a lace collar. All three adventurers ceased their struggles to stare at her face. Her eyes were huge and so dark they seemed to be all pupil. Wild black hair tossed in the wind, and her eyebrows were thicker than Bungston's, and like his they even met over the bridge of her nose. The eyebrows set off skin that was alabaster white, and her fingernails were long. She was beautiful, but definitely very weird; Bungston appreciated her unassuming nature but thought that it was pretty careless of her to march out and greet three utter strangers wrestling with each other on her doorstep. Especially when one was as scary looking as Napoleon. She had not even brought the crossbow outside. The nostrils in her chiseled nose flared.
Napoleon shook off his coadventurers and stood, then walked over the woman. She stood still as he approached until the mutant dog was standing inches away. Then she drew her lips back from her teeth. "You smell good," said Napoleon.
Robigus and Bungston both began to shout warnings to the mesmerized mutant - that the woman was a vampire, that she would put his head on a stake, that she was a shoggoth and ate beets. The woman did not take any notice of the shouts, completely ignoring the two men. She shuddered and a change swept over her features - her lips protruded horribly, her ears swept up and grew, and her hairline descended over her face. "Nap! Shapeshifter! Look out!"
No longer chiseled alabaster, her face had become classic wolfman, but not as ugly and with fine black fur instead of the more typical matted brown. She growled and snarled at Napoleon, who growled and snarled back. Then she grabbed him and pulled him through a gate. Bungston's reflexes propelled him up in time to grab Napoleon's other arm and tug back, but Napoleon shook it free. Bungston and Robigus followed into the castle. Napoleon was chewing on the wolfwoman's left ear tuft as they ran off into the darkness, and she occasionally slowed down long enough to return the favor. "Nap? Everything is OK?" Napoleon freed an arm long enough to wave, and then the couple disappeared up a staircase.
Bungston rubbed his crewcut and made a spark, then turned to Robigus and grinned. "Well Bob, looks like they just let us in the door after all. And to think I used to give Napoleon crap about finding a female mutant. Who would have thunk it?"
Robigus frowned, his fingers still twitching over the pommel of his sword. "I think we have met a wolfwere, Bungston; a wolf that can assume human form. She was exceeding fair, but I fear for Napoleon should she seduce him from us then slay him alone in his weakness."
"I don't think she's going to slay him," replied Bungston. "I think she likes him a lot. She should, big burly beast like Nap. Plus he can take care of himself if she should get in a slaying mood. But unless her sisters show up we get the castle to ourselves now." After firing up the ultralamp it looked as if Bungston were right. Immediately past the gate was a defensible atrium that could be cut off from the rest of the castle; they had already walked through this. They now stood at one end of the main hall. It had high vaulted ceilings with more of the same smirking pseudosaints, and a few shields and hides on the wall, but otherwise it was cold and grim. A long low table with a few chairs was pushed up against a wall, but there were no other furnishings. Cobwebs wafted from the ceiling and the faces of the statuary. There were one or two doors on either side, and at the far end of the hall was a staircase leading up and one leading down. Napoleon and the wolf woman had taken the stairs leading up.
Robigus and Bungston walked across the flagstones into the center of the hall, their footsteps echoing. "It is not meet that a hall of this size should house no servants," said Robigus. "The woman who admitted us was no servant; from her dress I would mark her as nobility. And unaccompanied noblewomen do not greet strangers late at night,"
Bungston had been checking the small doors on the left and right. "These are kitchen type places over here, Bob. And as far as Nap's friend, from my experience your run of the mill noblewoman can't turn into a wolf. But you're right about the servants. I think that maybe tonight everyone is hiding under their beds, here and in the village. It must be Halloween or some other monster night, and only wolfweres and other spooky things are up and about." The wizard walked toward the paired staircases, tapping the wall with his staff as he went to check for secret doors. "Bob, how about you take the top and I'll take the bottom. It's so quiet in this castle that if either of us yell for help the other guy will hear."
Robigus drew his sword and scowled up the staircase. "The wolfwere may be lying in wait, having disposed of Napoleon."
"Come on Bob, I wouldn't let anyone dispose of Napoleon. I have a sixth sense about those things. Here, you can have Irn's lamp. If you think things look bad or Napoleon needs help, call and I'll come with a big spell ready." He passed the ultralamp to Robigus and patted his armored shoulder. "Collect any goodies you find. Let's regroup here in about 15 minutes; we can get Nap too." With that the wizard trotted down the stairs.
It was a longer trip that he expected; the stairs curled down quite a ways below ground level. There were, however, no cobwebs blocking his path, and the wizard deduced that this stairway must see fairly frequent use. Bungston's glimmering crewcut proved adequate for the small spaces. At one level there was a door which opened out into a study room; this contained several thick and possibly hollow leather-bound tomes and looked promising. Bungston decided to skip it and the other doors and go all the way down, then work his way back up. On the way down he heard a low moan echo past him, but it didn't sound like Robigus, so he continued to hump his pack down the stairs. There was definitely a potential for ghosts in a castle like this.
The staircase ended in a series of passages culminating in a row of locked doors; probably the dungeon. Bungston found a penlight in his pack and poked it through each tiny barred window as he went. None of the cells held any occupants; not too surprising, figured the wizard; the boss of this place probably used up his prisoners pretty quick with the nasty games outside. The last door was sheathed in metal and reinforced, and there was no tiny window. Bungston knocked with his staff. He was rewarded by a frightful roar, and the door vibrated from a a collision with a heavy body on the inside. The wizard readied his Colt .45 just in case. Most likely no-one would keep valuables in with a caged monster or zombie, so he decided to save the metal door for absolutely last.
At the end of the hall was a spacious torture chamber, and Bungston's expressive lips writhed in disgust. It was the best furnished room he had yet seen, estblishing once and for all where the count's priorities lay. A fireplace, now cold, boasted a terrifying array of pokers and jabbers and pincers and other things some depraved jerk could heat up to burn people. There was a rack, which was stained with the marks of frequent use. There was also a black well or pit in the corner of the room, and a charnel odor floated out of it; this was probably where they put torture residue. There were thumbscrews and cages and spare impaling stakes and several other hideous machines Bungston could not identify. Bungston had to stop at the thumbscrews. Thumbscrews were Bungston's special peeve; he just could not tolerate the idea of mushing someone's thumbknuckle. Action was called for. There was a crusty bucket next to the corner pit, and the willful wizard used this to collect all the thumbscrews and gougers, then dumped them all into the pit. The stakes and fireplace tools followed soon after. The pit must have been deep, because none of the jettisoned instruments made the satisfying clang of impact.
The wizard then turned his attention to the iron maiden in the corner. There was a smirking saint face molded into the front cover, and the thing was closed and latched. Bungston hesitated before opening it, afraid a purulent old corpse would lurch out at him, but he steeled himself with the thought of the good works he was doing and opened it up. There was nothing inside but freshly sharpened spikes. Bungston leveled his Wolfwhacker staff at the brutal device and stood back. "WYVERN QUIVER SAUTE MIGHTY OUGHT YOU TRY THE TOASTED LIVER FIVE IT BUYS A BUSHEL FULL OF SHRIVEN RIVET CIVET WHISKERS!" The spikes bloated and became colorful, and it turned out they had been replaced by an assortment of festive party hats, complete with elastic and mylar tassels on the tip of the cone. Bungston took one off the Iron Maiden and put it on his head; it fit well and his charged crewcut made the mylar tassels stand on end. He liberated two more hats, planning to spruce up the two pseudosaints guarding the main entrance.
The wizard decided he had spent enough time in the torture chamber, but as he walked toward the door to leave Bungston was confronted by a fearsome apparition. The man was dressed in a giant black bearskin coat, bound shut by a leather and black iron belt. His Rasputinesque beard rolled over the front of the coat and his eyes burned with a demented intelligence. The thick black hair across his forehead concealed a strange mark there; a brand or tattoo of some kind. Bungston marked him as the likely perpetrator of the violent deeds done outside the castle, and no doubt the torture buff as well. The wizard rapped the butt of his mallet staff against the ground to pull the man's attention away from his newly modified festive Iron Maiden. It did the trick, and he turned his cruel glare at the slim wizard, then hurled the pine torch into the fireplace. "Who are you?" he snarled. "How did you gain entry?"
Bungston grinned his best grin and held out a hand to shake. "Hi, my name is Bungston," he said. "Just looking over the grounds. Quite a place, you must have good help. I don't suppose you have any magical items around here; I'm on a quest, you understand. I'm always willing to haggle. By the way, was that you who put all those heads on sticks out on the front lawn? I noticed them as I came in."
The fur-garbed man lowered his brow and stared as if sizing Bungston up. Blond crewcuts was probably unusual in the Transylvanian mountains, as were electrical halos. Bungston stepped up onto the platform of a table fitted with arm and leg cuffs, puffing out his chest to impress the man sizing him up. After a moments pause, the bearded man reached within his coat. "I have a thing I would like you to see, friend." He smiled at Bungston and the wizard noticed his teeth were unusually pointed.
From out of his fur coat the man slowly withdrew a toad. It was smooth and black and it had two heads, disproportionately large compared to their common body. Each head had two round yellow eyes that stared up at the wizard on the table. The bearded man gradually lifted the two-headed toad until it was touching his own nose. "That's one creepy toad you have there," Bungston said sincerely from his tabletop. "Are you going to lick it?"
"Perhaps," the man replied in a soft voice. "Why don't you wait and see? Six eyes stared up at Bungston, two human and four amphibian. Bungston vaguely wondered if there were any other animals under the voluminous bearskin coat. The room wavered in the orange light of the fireplace, and Bungston's head swam. His world became fuzzy on the edges, shrinking down to just six eyes. The eyes slowly began to chase one another, making a turning wheel. They spun faster and faster, unaffected by centrifugal force. One of the types of angels looked like a wheel of eyes, thought Bungston. What was it called? He could not seem to concentrate; his brain was foggy and numb. As the wheel of eyes spun faster, one shining eye began to open from the darkness within its center. It opened wider and wider, staring at him from across unfathomable gulfs. Bungston watched in a reverie as the great unblinking eye moved closer and closer to him.
Bungston abruptly found that he could not breathe, and his mighty autonomic system decided to take control of the situation. "Huk..huk..huk!" he choked, hands at his throat. His own eyes watered and he could no longer see the wheel of six eyes or the big central eye. Panic bubbled in his brain. Then he remembered what to do - he clasped both hands into a double fist and jerked the fist into his belly. It did the trick - dislodging a well chewed nutmeg from its dangerous position lodged in his airway and violently expelling it out of his mouth. It hit the bearded man square in the eye. The sorcerous trance broken, Bungston suddenly realized what had been going on before he had fortuitously choked, and he was not pleased. He swung his Wolfwhacker staff like an avenging croquet mallet, smacking the two headed toad away from the bearded man's hands. It flew across the room, bounced off a post and went down into the pit. On the backswing, Bungston pounded the evil hypnotist in the chin with the business end. The man bared his pointed teeth and whipped a wicked dagger from under his coat, slashing at Bungston's groin in the same motion.
Bungston jumped straight up and the blade passed beneath him. He hit the bearded man in the chin again with a serious thump, but like the first time it seemed to have little effect; probably the beard provided padding. "Cut it out!" yelled Bungston. "Let's be reasonable!" Bungston knew that in actuality anyone who kept cadavers on his lawn and two-headed toads under his clothes was unlikely to be reasonable, but the wizard hoped that Robigus would hear him and sneak in and bash the guy over the head with a chair. The sorcerer slashed again, and this time Bungston jumped onto his assailants head, quickly jumping off and onto the ground when the sharp point jabbed at his Achilles tendon. On the next slash Bungston was ready with his staff, and he parried with the rubber mallet end. The blade lodged in the mallet head, and with the extra leverage provided by his longer weapon, Bungston was able to pull the weapon away from the sorcerer. The wizard freed the dagger and waved it at the bearded man, who growled and snarled bestially from between pointed teeth. "Now I have the knife. Let's talk about treasure."
The sorcer lunged recklessly, and Bungston's lightning reflexes interposed the point of the dagger. It struck a hard surface beneath the bear fur and skittered off, tangling itself in the man's coat. Bungston let go of it and rolled away, sticking the mallet staff between the man's legs as he did so. The bearded brute plowed into a spiked wheel on the wall, knocking it off its hook. He turned, unhurt, and lunged at Bungston again with his hands outstretched. His fingernails were long and twisted.
FOOD IS MOOD IS BROODING FLUTED CRENELATED BAITED COOKIE TIME TO CHANGE THAT STYLISH LOOK! A pail of paint appeared in Bungston's hands; he did not dally, but launched the pink liquid to intercept the charging sorcerer. Intercept it did, tinting his black coat and hair and face a delicate shade of rose; Bungston's agility allowed him to dodge the oncoming body with time to spare. Bungston splashed the remainder of the paint over some torture machines to give them a less menacing look. The sorcerer did not roar with berserk anger as Bungston had hoped. Instead he turned and ceased the growling he had been doing before. His wiped the paint from his eyes and spoke. "Now I see. My guest is not without his own skills."
Bungston did not like his enemies to be cool and calculating; he liked them to be stupid with rage; then he could dodge them and trip them until they got tired and went away. "You look nice in pink," he said. Probably he should have summoned something more effective than paint, like a pail of crazy glue. Maybe it wasn't too late.
The sorcerer smiled at him with those sharp teeth. "Meet my allies," he said softly. He extended a hand and a black powder billowed out in a plume, evidently from under his fingernails. The plume floated toward the charnel pit in the corner. Bungston knew that this was bad; he threw his staff at the black cloud but the weapon passed through without altering it at all. The powder gathered above the pit, then dropped as if suddenly heavy.
Nothing happened immediately, so Bungston decided that a bluff was in order. "OK, listen up you butthead bullying mangy toadlicking freak! You might be able to torture a bunch of scared farmers but not me. You're dang right I have powers! Like this!" Bungston shouted a series of words at the top of his lungs and watched for a response. It was tough to tell if the sorcerer was impressed or not because of the pink paint drying on his face, but he did not seem too cool and calculating anymore. As well he shouldn't, thought Bungston; the wrathful wizard had come up with many a powerful spell in his time, and would right here if he could think of an appropriate one. Then Bungston noticed movement in the pit and cut his tirade short.
A scabrous ulcerated gray head poked into view at the rim of the pit. It was followed by a mangled monkeylike body. It looked like a body mutilated by torture and then left underwater for a few weeks; Bungston realized that was probably pretty close to the truth. The reanimated ghoul had long slimy tufts of hair and unnaturally grown talons. Bungston grabbed the sombrero decorated with wax fruit that his short spell had summoned and fired it backhand at the monster. It struck it in the throat and the thing toppled backwards into the pit in a shower of fake cherries. Bungston dusted his hands together in triumph, but the pink sorcerer watched and laughed a malicious laugh.
Gray clawed hands clutched the rim of the pit in a dozen places as more ghouls pulled themselves into the firelight, and Bungston realized he had a job on his hands. They avoided the corner in which the necromancer who had raised them stood, and instead moved howling and skipping across the floor towards Bungston. These were no slowpoke mummies - they were high quality speedy ghouls of the first rate. The wizard rolled an iron cage across the flagstones toward the band; it brought down the one in the lead but the others leapt over and advanced. They attacked from all sides, and Bungston had no time to think of a spell. He dodged one lunging from the side, then ducked and rolled from the ones in front, almost rolling back into the one on the side. It was lucky he had shucked his pack earlier and did not have it to slow him down. He jumped onto a torture machine to avoid two which were scurrying toward him on all fours. Still more poured out of the pit, adding their howls and bubbling shreiks to the chorus of those present. Bungston cast a frantic eye toward the door, but it looked like several had massed there. "uhhh..um...GERMANIUM GERANIUM GLOP-CLOGGED..," He had to duck as one came flying at him, almost grazing his skin with its outstretched nails; it caught the party hat Bungston was still wearing and pulled it off. The snapping elastic stung his chin. If one of these ghouls got their nails in him, he was a goner; he would no doubt get paralyzed by the ghoul poison and then they would close in to feed. Bungston did an aerial somersault down to the floor, drew his Colt .45 and fanning the hammer, rapidly shot five slugs into the breastbones of the five scampering ghouls closest to him; each was thrown back by the momentum of the big chunk of lead. In the moment of respite he drew a bead on the forehead of the necromancer chuckling in the corner, aiming for the arcane symbol blazoned there. The man's pink beard flew into the air and he rocked back with the impact of the bullet, then hooted with laughter. Still more ghouls were clambering from the pit and the ones he had shot were getting back up; there had to be at least twenty or twenty five now - and the room was very small for such a crowd. They were all around him, and all of them moved fast. Bungston felt a cold sweat; he definitely needed a spell now. "FEBRILE KNEE-HIGH..," He was forced to jump out of the way of a savage skull-faced specimen. He lashed out with a boot at a second, then did a flip and a twist, but immediately had to crouch to duck from a third assault. Just a minute to think and he could fill the room with bathtub caulk or holy water. He dodged again, part of his shirt ripped away by a swiping talon. Lightning reflexes had saved him till now, but he was getting tired. He found the sombrero with wax fruit in his hand and prepared to use it as a shield for a last ditch dash for the door.
As Bungston prepared to charge, Robigus stepped through the entrace to the torture chamber. His weapon was in his hand and his gray face was fierce. He wasted no time in talk, and his Roman shortsword cut through the torso of one ghoul and the cranium of another. A gibbering fiend bounded up and latched its jaws around Robigus' armored forearm; the warrior swung it around into a wall and kicked it away. Then Robigus switched the sword to his other hand and paused for a split second, reassessing the situation. He raised his right hand, fingers spread, and the wizard panting in the corner saw a strange light come into his face. "Dead things!" he called, his voice resonant. "Now return to the earth!"
The air swirled with the smell of a thousand caves, the clean mustiness overwhelming the foul stench of the ghouls. All around Bungston, the undead crumpled and caved in upon themselves, their sluglike flesh sprouting with soft gray fuzz. They disintegrated into featurelss heaps; in one second a room that had been packed with raving howling ghouls was empty except for three men and many mildewed gray piles on the floor.
The crest of Robigus' helmet had changed from crimson to gray, and he walked out of his new sandals with his first steps, their straps now worthless and weak. He strode across the room frowning in concern to where Bungston leaned panting against a black-stained wood frame. The mildew god was apparently oblivious to the necromancer who advanced from the corner behind him. The pink bearded man had taken up a three-pronged poker that Bungston had not seen earlier, and he raised it to smash Robigus on the neck. Bungston saw it coming. "Bob! Duck!"
Robigus did duck, but not enough, and the poker clanged on his helmet. The chin strap gave with the blow and the helmet bounced away across the floor. Robigus whirled and caught the next swing of the poker on his sword, then countered expertly. Robigus proceeded to earn his title as one time war god, handling his sword like a pro.
It was an uneven fight; the necromancer had, after all, laughed after getting nailed in the forehead with a .45 caliber bullet, and he was oblivious to Robigus' offensive. Robigus sword strokes were certainly depreciating the value of the man's bearskin, but the man underneath was unhurt and he continued to thrash with the poker. From where he was catching his breath, Bungston saw Napoleon's big maroon head poke in through the door and watch the battle for a few seconds, and then it jerked back and disappeared.
In the face of the necromancer's invulnerable onslaught, Robigus had to devote more and more of his attention to defense, especially as the mildewed leather straps on his armor were giving way one after the other. Despite this, the mildew god's swordsmanship was good enough that the clumsy but single-minded attack of the sorcerer could not harm him. Robigus seemed to realize his hits were doing no good, and he concentrated on the three-pronged poker, hoping to knock it out from the madman's grasp.
Then the sorcerer dropped the poker clanging to the floor and took a step back. Long slashed strips of shedding bearskin dangled down from his coat. "You are no priest, that you know so well the sword." It seemed that after seeing Robigus dispel the ghouls, the necromancer figured Robigus was a priest. Bungston had a bad feeling about the look on the sorcerer's face, and he took a deep breath and started mumbling.
Robigus leveled his sword at the man and scowled fiercely. "I am Robigus, god of war and mildew. Yield and I will give you quarter."
The sorcercer brought up a clenched fist. On one finger he wore a ring with a scarlet gem; Bungston knew for a fact it had not been there before. "We will see if you are god." He extended his clenched fist toward Robigus.
"... THAT WOULD BE FUN TO SEE TRIP ON YOUR SLIP SPIN FIST AND PLAY!" As the red ring swirled with a nimbus of power, a flurry of big leather medicine balls stormed out of the air immediately above the sorcerer's ring hand, knocking his outstretched arm to one side. The ring lashed out with a misdirected tendril of scarlet force intended for Robigus, but which instead blew the torture rack into flinders. "Look what you did!" yelled Bungston.
The sorcerer bared his sharp teeth and reoriented his ring at Bungston, at the same time Napoleon quietly stepped into the room behind the man carrying a weighty looking five-stemmed silver candelabra. Napoleon adjusted his grip, then whumped the sorcerer over the head with a two-handed overhand bash. The man staggered but stayed up, so Napoleon gave his skull another whack to help his descent. This time the mutant's not-too prehensile digits lost their purchase on the silver candelabra, but the sorcerer was on the floor so he didn't worry. "Tah-dah!" he growled. "I figured maybe I should be the one breaking out candelabras for a change."
The sorcerer rose groggily with a hand on his head, then turned to face Napoleon with an inhuman snarl. The St.Bernard backed away in surprise, but Bungston was ready. As the necromancer's features became fluid and started to shift across his face, Bungston ran up with the crusty bucket he had used earlier. Black fur raced across the lycanthrope's pink-painted skin, and then Bungston jammed the bucket over his head and hid the new-grown hair from view. The iron on the side of the bucket bulged, but it was thick, and it prohibited the continuing lycanthropic transformation by not allowing enough room for the necromancer's face to metamorphose into an elongated muzzle. The man tried to pull the bucket off his head, but Bungston was waiting with a length of duct tape - he slipped off the magic red ring and then the transforming yellow-nailed hands were soon swathed in a silver tape mitten. Bungston was tempted to pull the bucket off himself just to take a look at what must be a beautiful panface, but instead he spun the bucketheaded sorcerer around and propelled him into the iron maiden, which was wide open with party hats waiting. Robigus slammed the lid and latched it shut. Chains and rope were plentiful in the torture chamber, and the three adventurers quickly gathered all they could find and wrapped them around the iron box to ensure that its captive did not escape through some feat of superhuman strength. They then tipped the iron maiden on its back and piled everything loose in the room on top of it.
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