Book 3: Chapter 68: Contingency Number Two

Book 3: Chapter 68: Contingency Number Two

When I’d come to Schist about contingency ideas in case of another riot, or if things went sideways with Harmsson, we’d made a long list. Schist had considered it a fun thought exercise, and I’d considered it good planning. We’d come up with a lot of ideas, but nailed down the one we’d thought would be maximum chaos with minimum destruction.

Which meant the entire garden exploded into chaos when I activated the magical trigger in my pocket and several hundred barrels of Dragonator detonated upwards, covering the entire beerfest with smoking, sticky beer.

During our tests, the Dragonator had shown to make a highly effective smokescreen when exposed over a wide area in a short period of time. When combined with an alchemical additive in the charge, we were able to increase the ‘stickiness’ factor as well.

I stuck a finger out from under the table and pressed it against a pool of beer. I had to exert a good bit of effort pulling it back out again and nodded with approval.

All according to plan.

I activated my Manasight, and green figures began dotting the smoke. It was hard to catch individual people, but it was good enough to dodge out of the way as sticky, angry dwarves flailed about, unable to get free from the swamp of beer. I began counting down in my head; sixty seconds was enough to avoid the worst of the stick, and plotted my escape route in my mind.

We all had designated exit points into the service tunnels below the beer garden. Mine was in a mausoleum about twenty paces to the east from here. That was, of course, assuming my memory was correct.

I began edging through the mass of people, moving aside any time a slowly moving mass of green mana got too close.

I let out a sigh of relief as I spotted the telltale brown mana of stone, and my outreaching hands felt the cool surface of the Mausoleum. I stumbled around it, keeping away from the figures currently glued to its surface, and felt for the lock.

There were two locks.

Why were there two locks!?

I bent closer to examine them. One was a standard bolt lock, which I had a key for. The other was a more complex affair, that I didn’t have a key for. It also hadn’t been there during set up!

Upon careful examination, I spotted some writing on the lock in grease pen.

“Is this the bathroom?” - Birch

I instantly regretted not selecting [Godbotherer] earlier this evening, so I could’ve phoned Barck once a month for the next 600 years just to ask ‘Why are you such a douche’?

I did my best to remain calm. Everyone was still stuck to various surfaces, and the worst that would happen was getting arrested. The problem was, I wasn’t exactly popular with the Council of Greybeards right now, and I didn’t want to try dealing with charges while in prison. I also didn’t want to stick around to see if Harmsson had more up his sleeve.

I ran through the map of the beer garden in my head. From here, my best chance was a tunnel just to the North East. It would dump me in the sewers beneath Darkwater, which is why we hadn’t included it in our plans, but it was still my best bet for now.

I ducked, dodged, and dived in the quickly dissipating smoke, until the access tunnel stood before me. It was still locked, but I had the key, and I sighed with relief as it slid in and turned.

My sigh hitched in my throat as a red dot appeared on my minimap a short distance behind me. I glanced at my filters, and they were all still off. The only thing that would show as red on my map was a monster.

Or... a filter I’d set last year and never turned off. A filter for a certain gnome named... Ambermine.

I felt a tide of crimson TeAR aT My MInD, but I tamped it down. The dot was slowly approaching my position; he probably thought he had the drop on me. After all, he was an assassin hiding within a massive screaming crowd, just one gnome among many.

I felt a surge of adrenaline as I pulled a spherical glass bottle from my pocket. It contained the same alchemical mix that we’d put in the charges, but amped up to eleven. It was a fairly common item in use among adventurers called a Stickyfoot Potion. We were all carrying a few today.

Ambermine probably had ways of dodging, but hopefully I’d catch him by surprise. I kept ‘fiddling with the lock’ and counted down as the red dot approached my back. With a short swear at any watching Gods, I activated [Lucky Break], then turned and tossed the vial towards the red dot on my Minimap.

I could just barely make a short figure in the smoke as the bottle arched out. Ambermine reacted late, tried to dodge the vial, then tripped as his shoes briefly stuck on the floor. The bottle landed directly on his chest and burst, showering him with a ballooning mass of sticky goo.

Ambermine’s muffled swearing was music to my ears as I ducked inside the tunnel and locked the door behind me. I considered running over and braining him with my warhammer, but...

I couldn’t help myself. “Seriously?”

“Yes! Release us and help us capture that criminal and you’ll be rewarded!”

“Aye, aye. Just gimme a sec. I need to corroborate your story.”

The so-called ‘captain’ grumbled, but stopped thrashing. As I got closer, my face fell into the light, and the third figure began struggling harder. I reached over and pulled away the cloak, to reveal...

Lord Freaking Harmsson. The massive asshole himself. He looked nothing at all like the well-manicured and put together Lordling I’d seen up on the stage. He was sweating and banged up, his clothes covered in sticky black beer, and his side was wet with blood.

“Peter!” He gasped. “I’m so glad to see you! Help me!”

I stepped away as though stung. “Yeah, maybe I should let these two finish ya off.”

“No! You can’t!” He said, hoarsely. “They’re the Council’s Secret Police! They’ll kill you too, just to remove any witnesses!”

The pair of guards went very still and I eyed them a bit more warily. I spun my warhammer idly as I spoke. “I could off all three of you. I especially have a bone to pick with you Harmsson.”

“Peter. You’re not a killer.” Harmsson’s face twisted into a sick smile.

“Now that’s a cliche villain line if I’ve ever heard one.” I mused. “Did you set Ambermine on me?”

“Who?” Harmsson asked, blankly.

I sighed. “Cut the crap. I know he’s working for you. What I don’t understand is why you waited so long to stab me in the back. If you were going to send an [Assassin], why not do it while I’m sleeping at night.”

Harmsson’s vision twitched up and to the left. “I honestly don’t know what you’re – “

“Do you plan to release us?” Mr. Mcextra interrupted.

I glanced his way in surprise. “Uh... maybe. Depends on how I’m feeling?”

“Very well, then. [Iron Command]! RELEASE US!”

I felt my mind twist, and wrench at his words.

*Ding!*

Milestone Used

[Unbending] has prevented [Iron Command].

“You shouldn’t have done that. I’m allergic to mind affecting Abilities.” I said angrily, then splashed my final Stickyfoot potion over the two. By the time I was finished they were quite thoroughly coated and glued to the ground. I did have the good grace to make sure they could still breathe through their noses. Their breaths came out in angry snorts, as they heaved with rage.

“You should’ve just killed them.” Harmsson muttered.

I shrugged and leaned on my warhammer. “The night’s still young. And not all of us are so comfortable with murder. Now there’s nobody to disturb us, so, let’s talk, Harmsson.”