DDW: Sic Transit Crumble

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 5 AM – The Waterworks]

> There was no disagreement amongst the mages about the disposition of
> either the newly acquired scroll, or of its intended use, and a moment
> later the wizards had a Shrunk vestige of the Elder Black Pudding’s
> corpse in their possession.

The aftermath of the Black Pudding Battles sorted, the Away Team
continued their trek on into the Waterworks. Given that they were
approaching the last sighting of Crumble, The Forlorn Rust monster,
there was a reason for some additional haste. The Mother of All Cat’s
blessing that Jeyshann had delivered to make the team highly resistant
to acid was only minutes away from fading away from most of the group.
However, the blessing would last on both Laurelin and Finfin for longer,
as they were the two that Jeyshann had anticipated would be bearing the
brunt of the fighting against the ooze – which then became oozes,
plural. If they hurried, that blessing might still be in place for at
least the pair of elves.

“What IS a Forlorn Rust Monster, anyways?” Tramma asked as the crew
hustled along.

“A Rust Monster that cannot get a date?” Lomi speculated idly.

“Well, I do feel sorry for it, then,” the silver haired bard lamented.
“But not if it keeps running out and harassing our Upwinder allies.”

Soon, the Away Team was standing before another of the regulation metal
doors, along with a standard wheel valve on the floor nearby. This
arrangement, of course, led to a number of questions.

“A… metal door?” Finfin asked. “Around a rust monster?”

“It’s incorrigible!” Tramma exclaimed happily. Demonstrating that she
was quoting from another obscure bit of comedic lore, she continued, “Or
is that incorruptible? Ineligible?”

Lomi sighed at her friend’s antics, but did not try to interrupt.
Instead, ignoring her pal’s patter, the tall scout asked quite
reasonably, “If there’s a rust monster behind there, how does it get out?”

Following her now established procedure, Laquendi was kneeling at the
door valve, trying to answer that exact question. It looked to her like
any of the others that she had studied this morning. It most certainly
did NOT have any extensions or add-ons to facilitate its operation by
something that, as far as Laquendi understood, had no hands.

But quite unlike any previously seen door valve, this one began to spin
of its own accord as Laquendi was giving it a closer examination.

“Non Acid Resistant elves perhaps take a step backwards?” Finfin
suggested, hefting the glass club they’d recovered from the
disintegrating chest. Next to him, Laurelin began chanting, clearly
about to invoke a spell of some sort. She had already handed off her
finely crafted elven chainmail to her fellow priestess, Jeyshann, and
Finfin nodded in approval when he observed that his Ex was casting a
“buff” that would more than make up for the thin mail’s lack.

Laquendi quickly stepped aside, mentioning something about letting “the
twins” handle things. In the middle of her spellcasting, Laurelin raised
one eyebrow, but continued to chant. Finfin, too, looked nonplussed for
a moment, also wondering when and how Huntress Gil Soronwe had joined
them. Only after a moment did he realize that Laquendi had meant HIM and
Laurelin as “the twins”, unaware of the irony behind that statement. And
a moment later, Laurelin began to waver, and then appeared to vanish,
only to instantly appear two feet away. Those Arcanists In The Know
could recognize a Displacement spell at work.

Just as Laquendi was stepping aside, the door slid open with its
characteristic screech of metal on metal. And behind it, its antennae
still clutching its own door valve on the far side, was Crumble, the
Forlorn Rust Monster. A very LARGE rust monster.

The glowing globe back by Ben began flashing a frantic warning.
Charitably speaking, it might have even begun flashing danger BEFORE the
door flung open and the rust monster appeared, and only an accident of
narrative storytelling or the inattention of the writers delayed the
telling of that warning.

Be that as it may, Laurelin began to chant another spell, this one
Divine in nature, and a blazing silver Moon Blade appeared in the
priestess’ hand. Even as Laurelin completed her prayer, a salvo of
arrows from Lomi’s compound longbow unerringly shot in between the elven
defenders and scored deep furrows on the rust monster’s carapace.

Crumble hissed virulently, though whether at the pain from the arrow
scratches, at the disappointment that those beyond the door were NOT its
to be hoped for date, or that the elves just beyond were rather
inconsiderately NOT dressed head to toe in metal could not really be
determined. However, all was not lost. The rust monster’s two antennae
positively quivered with delight as it scented the armor clad form of
Abbot Benjamin Kenobi standing some ways behind.

None of those present doubted the meaning of the squeal of delight (and
hunger). Skittering forward faster than Finfin could advance to block
the door, Crumble squirted through the opening like a cork from a fizzy
wine bottle, and showed every sign of ignoring the pitiful metalless
elves before it as it tried to do an end run around them in its charge
towards the tasty armor just beyond.

Annoyed at both his inability to have blocked the door, and especially
at being IGNORED by the creature, Finfin dropped his newly acquired club
on the ground and reached out for the scurrying rust monster. A beaked
bite harmlessly bounced off the invisible protection of his Mage Armor,
and an instant later the elven officer had both hands around the
monster. He then began to heave. Crumble flailed away frantically, its
antennae lashing the elf’s face but found nothing to rust. A moment
later, the elf had lifted the forlorn monster off of the ground. Which
was no mean feat, given Crumble was actually bigger than Finfin.

Keeping the rust monster’s feet off of the ground, Finfin hissed,
“Anyone want to join in?” Crumble gave a squirm, and the elf added,
“Quickly, please?”

Tramma very carefully made certain to give both Laurelin and Laquendi
room, entirely certain that they would want to be contributing to the
mayhem any moment. In fact, Laquendi seemed to be eyeing the silver
haired bard, waiting for a specific cue. Tramma nodded; she knew exactly
what was needed. She didn’t have all of the props that she needed for a
full performance for what she had in mind, but that was the wonderful
thing about Bardic Magic – it encouraged improvisation.

In a light, lilting tone, Tramma sang

Everybody's good at cooking something
and I'm good at cooking crumble
In fact, I've got one in the oven
would you like some?

The song might have been nonsense, but the effect was entirely real.
Everybody, with the possible exception of the rust monster, could feel
their chest swell with courage. The rust monster just tried to look
forlorn. The glowing globe flashed a warning not to buy it.

Tramma nodded for Laquendi to move forward, and the dusky elf happily
did so, scooping up the discarded glass club that Finfin had dropped.
Gripping it in two hands, she smartly brought it down on the struggling
creature’s head. Neither club nor rust monster seemed particularly
damaged by the impact, but Crumble hissed in pain. The hiss was repeated
when Tramma added a club smash of her own.

Crumble did not LIKE being held off the ground by this annoying elf, and
it squirmed and kicked energetically in its attempt to escape, futilely
trying to bite the face off of the annoying non-metallic two legs
wrestling with it. To no avail; Finfin’s grip did not break, and he
heaved the creature around to give everyone around him their best shot
at it, even as he squeezed hard. More arrows and club blows descended.
The coup-de-grace, however, arrived from Laurelin’s shimmering Moon
Blade. The glowing white incorporeal blade sailed through the creature's
carapace as if it was not even there… and Crumble slumped in Finfin’s arms.

Even someone with minimal medical training like Finfin could tell that
the rust monster in his arms was still alive, even if not moving. And
from the amount of blood oozing from the creature, its life would soon
be drawing to a close, unless somebody decided to intervene.

But his straining back demanded attention NOW. As gently as he could, he
rested the motionless figure of Crumble, the now Dying as well as
Forlorn Rust Monster, on the flagstones. Looking up at the clergy among
the Away Team, he mildly observed, "I for one am not in favour of
letting this creature die. He IS neutralised, and I am confident that we
can work out the details for his removal and confinement. But there is
something rather more pressing...?”

That started a spirited discussion. It was in no way an argument; both
Finfin and Laurelin had endured quite enough of THOSE over their
adventuring careers. But it was a legitimate exchange of differing
viewpoints, but all were bounded by the necessity of “doing whatever was
right.” Laquendi quite bravely offered to do the humane killing herself,
if that was the ultimate decision. Laurelin, however, was somewhat
conflicted. She had no taste for needless slaughter, but was uncertain
about whether a humane end for Crumble could be avoided.

But after some consideration, she opted to at least stabilise the
creature’s condition. It was deeply unconscious; if the decision
ultimately came down to euthanizing the creature, it would be unaware of
any delay, and it clearly was not suffering now. She chanted the very
simplest of healing orisons, those most minor of Divine Prayers while
sketching out red glowing lines over the monster, and its condition
stabilised. Now there would not be a countdown timer measured in
Crumble’s dripping lifeblood to bound the conversation.

Now, the various wizards put their heads together, comparing various
spells known, looking for something that could be used to either
transport, or failing that, reduce the bulk of the creature so that it
would not be a huge imposition to take with them.

“We could kill it, Shrink Item it, and then ask if our revered holy ones
could Raise it later,” Laquendi suggested with brutal practicality. “If,
of course, we still had a Shrink Item left, which we do not.” Her words,
as coldly efficient as they were, happened to also be true. Their last
Shrink Item had been used to store the huge bulk of the deceased Elder
Black Pudding for future sale.

“Damn, Laquendi,” Jeyshann said with a wry grin, “that’s cold.”

“Yes. Is it impractical or evil?” the small Drow asked.

“A bit impractical because of the cost of a Raise Dead, and whether any
of the Great Spirits involved would condone using their magic that way,”
Jeyshann shrugged. “Evil? That is highly dependent on the circumstances.”

That led to speculation about whether there would be a market for a
LIVING Crumble. There would certainly be a large bounty for a deceased
rust monster among the dwarven nations, the dwarves in general
considering rust monsters to be the worst form of pest.

Lomi offered, “There are zoos in the bigger Yelti cities that’d pay to
have one.” She sighed, and added, “But I’m of two minds about them. The
better ones really DO good work and are all for helping people better
understand and live with animals… but there’s no getting around them
also being animal prisons.”

The tall legged scout clearly did not wish to join in the speculation
about what such a monster’s “finding fee” might bring in. Tramma, seeing
her pal’s distress, lightly touched Lomi on the shoulder. “C’mon,” the
silver haired bard suggested. “Let dear Fin and the other Big Brains
talk for a bit. There’s something here you and I can do.” .