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Beyond the door the muffled sounds of revelry had ceased. Aristo
guessed that ogres must have sensitive ears, perhaps to make up for their
short-fall in intelligence. Ari decided that now might be a good time to
go and check out what was in the chest in that one room. Fighting a pack
of ogres might have once been something that he would have dreamed of
doing, but now he was more interested in other pursuits, and having to
rest up from the inevitable wounds he would receive from such a fight
would entail time he was not willing to waste. Of course, he might get
killed, which would make things easier, but then he would never have a
chance to find out what was so wrong about that chest.
Aristo retreated to the room with chest, barring both of the doors he
passed through. Given the durability of their construction, it should
take the ogres some time to get through them. Kneeling over the chest,
Aristo did another quick check that showed no traps in the lock or hinges.
However, when he started to pick the lock, a loud, high-pitched noise
filled the air. Ari winced in pain at the volume of it, but otherwise
ignored it as finished picking the lock. He had encountered such simple
magical alarms before, and they did not bother him overly much. It was
the poisoned needles, scything blades, and swarms of darts that tended to
get on his nerves.
The loud whistling ceased as Aristo started to raise the lid.
Through the ringing in his ears Ari could hear the ogres pounding on the
outer door. Figuring it would not take them long to get through it,
Aristo threw open the lid of the chest. Inside he saw a large sack,
several bottles, a scroll tube, some cloth and clothing, and a nicely
polished dagger. The dagger was of very fine quality, and instantly drew
his attention. He was starting to pick it up when he was interrupted by
roar of rage from the balcony.
Startled by the unexpectedness of it, Aristo glanced over to see the
horned ogre flying in through the balcony door. "I wish I could do that,"
Ari commented aloud.
"Then come here elf, and I shall give you some lessons," grunted the
ogre in passably fluent elvish, hefting its massive bastard sword in one
hand.
With a flick of his wrist, Aristo unsheathed the fine dagger and sent
it spinning towards the ogre as the blue-skinned humanoid pointed his free
hand at Aristo. Aristo dodged and rolled to one side as a blast of cold
hit the table next to the chest. Aristo was chilled to the bone, slowing
his movements. He had always loved cold weather, but this was a bit too
much. Besides, since when did ogres learn how to use magic? Now Aristo
was certain that this particular ogre must indeed have demon ichor flowing
in his veins.
Aristo drew his blades as the ogre pulled the dagger from his leg.
The ogre smiled and touched the medallion it wore as a bracelet around one
heavily-muscled wrist. The ogre seemed to split in twain, and then there
were two of them standing side-by-side, looking like identical twins.
Noticing the medallion, Aristo decided that it might be the source of the
ogre's magic, and as such, he also decided that he wanted to lay his hands
on that medallion.
Looking upon the two identical ogres, Aristo thought little of the
trick, having seen the spell before. One of the two was just an illusion.
The question was, which one? Well, there was one quick way to find out.
He darted forward and hacked at the one on the left. It was solid enough,
growling in pain at the wicked wound Ari's sword inflicted. That one
obviously being the real one, Aristo ignored the other ogre.
The real ogre swung its massive sword, but Aristo easily ducked
beneath the swing and thrust his own sword into the ogre's heart, his
dagger slashing the ogre's wounded leg. As he did so, Ari noticed that
the first dagger wound was not bleeding, but thought little of it at the
moment, for the ogre dropped its sword and clutched at the wound in its
chest. It fell backwards, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Aristo was startled when the twin image of the ogre howled in rage
and slashed Ari with its sword. Ari was thrown off balance by the attack,
having not considered the other ogre to be any threat. The ogre swung
again, but this time Aristo was able to dodge. Darting in before the ogre
could recover its balance from the attack, Ari drew blood with both
blades. Then he stabbed again, nearly losing his grip on his sword as it
pierced the ogre's side. The ogre smashed Aristo with its sword again,
and Ari was barely able to climb back to his feet again in time to meet
its next rush.
Aristo hit it with his sword again, dropping the ogre in its tracks.
But the blue-skinned brute climbed back to his feet wearily. Surprised
that the creature could possibly withstand that much damage, Aristo
attacked it again before it could steady itself, dealing several nasty
blows in rapid succession with his sword and dagger, until the ogre was
obviously dead.
Ari started to take a deep breath and straighten up from where he was
bent over trying to recover from the effort of killing this ogre.
However, he was shocked to hear a shuddering moan from the other ogre.
Turning around, he saw it climbing back to its feet. Aristo did a double
take. He thought that he had killed it. What was going on here?
Then he noticed that the ogre's wounds appeared to already be half-
healed. Distractedly shaking his head, Aristo figured it must be the
demon-blood coursing through the half-breed's veins. If this ogre was not
demonspawn, then he didn't know what it was.
The ogre grabbed up its sword and charged, Aristo was barely able to
avoid the vicious assault, though he did manage to thrust his sword
between two ribs and deep into the ogre's chest as he stormed past.
Aristo's sword was ripped from his tired grasp, remaining planted in the
ogre's side. The ogre did not stop its charge, only continuing on to slam
into the wall, where it dropped to the floor.
Aristo stumbled over to the body. It took everything he could muster
to yank his sword from it body, so deeply was it buried in the corpse. As
he did so, the body floated into the air, where it merged with the other
corpse. And then there was only one dead ogre laying upon the floor.
To be certain it was dead, Aristo started hacking at its neck until its
head rolled free from its body. He then gave the disembodied head a solid
kick to send it rolling eerily across the floor and well away from the
body.
Only then did Aristo notice that other ogres were now pounding upon
the door to this room. Deciding it would now be prudent to make a hasty
exit to examine his proceeds from this venture, Aristo untied the
medallion from the corpse's wrist and then stumbled over to the chest,
picking up the fine dagger on the way. It was of such nice workmanship
that it would be a shame to leave it behind. He quickly cleaned it off
and resheathed it, sticking it into his belt.
Grabbing up the stuff in the chest, Aristo started stuffing it into
his pack. Several of the bottles clearly contained some fine wines, which
he decided to hold onto. But the other three contained strange-looking
fluids. He immediately thought of magic potions. They were labeled in
what he assumed was the ogres' language. He had never before considered
whether or not ogres were actually literate. Shrugging, he knew it was of
no consequence since he could not read the script.
It now sounded like the ogres were about to break down the door. Ari
was glad that it was nice and solid and heavily barred. He decided to
quaff one the of the potions, hoping it would prove useful, perhaps
turning him invisible or making him exceptionally strong. Two of the
bottles were labeled similarly, while the third was different. He
selected one of the two with similar labels. That way he would have an
idea of what the other one contained.
Twisting off the lid of the bottle, Aristo started to make some sort
of inane elvish toast. He shook his head to clear it, realizing he must
be far more exhausted than he thought. Ari upended the bottle and the
foul-tasting liquid slid down his throat with all of the consistency of
oil mixed with vomit. However, he immediately began to feel far better.
His wounds ceased bleeding and knitted themselves closed. Strength flowed
back into his limbs, and he felt almost as good as normal.
Aristo was shocked. He had actually laid his hands upon a potion of
healing... Nay, two such potions. As much as he had wished for that to
happen, he had figured that the Fates would personally see to it that he
never found any such potions.
Shaking his head in amazement, he proceeded to stuff everything else
into his pack, until he got to the huge sack. It was extremely heavy, and
when he moved it he heard the distinct sound of coins from within. He
concluded they would not be worth the effort of lugging about.
Then the door began to split under the pounding of the ogres outside.
A cunning idea occurred to Aristo, though it was not so colorful as he
would have preferred. Taking the sack, he drug it out of the chest and
across the floor to just in front of the door. He slashed open the sack
with his nice new dagger and gold coins spilt all over the place, covering
the floor in a thick layer of glittering metal.
Aristo retreated to the balcony as the door finally burst open. The
ogres stormed in and the first few immediately slipped and fell on the
mass of coins. The others tried to get around their comrades who were
flailing about on the floor.
"This party is getting too crowded," Aristo commented to himself as
he considered the twenty-foot drop from the balcony. But looking over the
balcony, he saw a pair of angry ogres looking up at him. "Oh good,
something to break my fall."
Leaping over the low wall lining the balcony, Aristo landed on the
head of the nearest of the pair of ogres, who had not the brains to try
and move. The ogre slammed to the floor with Aristo on top of him. The
other of the pair took a badly-aimed swing and missed Aristo by a mile.
Aristo jumped to his feet and started to run across the chamber
towards the exit. His left ankle almost gave out when he first put his
weight on it, and he realized that he must have turned it when the ogre
had broke his fall. Trust an ogre to get everything wrong.
Still, he was able to outpace the two lumbering ogres behind him. He
would rather have stayed and played, but he was now more interested in
what he had recovered from the chest. Besides, he could always come back
and pay them another visit when he got bored again.
Limping out of the chamber, Aristo decided to head for familiar
ground. He made his way up the stairway and back to the previous level of
tunnels, heading in the direction of the hidden chambers he had most
recently been staying in. The ogres soon either got lost or gave up
pursuing him, perhaps not wanting to tangle with an elf who had just
taken out their leader.
Aristo did not particularly favor the idea of returned to the same
chambers, but he had grown to accept the idea, having had to do so before.
Besides, he accepted that it would be the best place to lay low while
examining his haul from the ogres, and he had no intention of remaining
there long.
Once back in the all-too-familiar chambers, Aristo emptied the
contents of his pack. Most of the clothing was in the form of robes and a
bolt of expensive cloth. Searching the stuff for anything of a magical
nature, he could tell that were a pair of enchanted bracers, along with
the magic writing on the scroll, the two remaining potions, the dagger,
and the medallion. A most profitable find, he decided.
Casting a spell of identification, he examined the bracers, finding
them to possess some enchantments of protection for the wearer. These
will be quite useful, he thought as he strapped them on.
Aristo would have liked to examine the other stuff, but the effort of
casting the identification spell greatly drained him. He would not be
able to cast it again soon, so he bundled up the other stuff and placed it
in the far corner of the other room, hoping that their magical auras would
not be any further changed by his own aura, so that he would be able to
identify them after he had had a chance to rest.