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[Goonalan]

Dungeon Crawl Classics #0 Legends are Made, not Born
An Adventure for 0 Level Characters

Turn 5: Beetlemania.

The six sit about, arguing-

“What did you say to it?” Cas wearily asks the Gnome.
“Nuthin’” comes the reply.

Jim whispers to Mischa, which is proving difficult to do, he and Bec stink to high heaven, nobody wants to get too close to either of them.

“How did… did he… did he speak to it?”
Mischa is quick to reply. “The Gnomes have the ability to talk; no, that’s not it, communicate with many burrowing creatures.”
Jim nods, confused- it’s a default setting.

“You must have said something.” Cas implored.
“Nope.”

Newt and Cas settle into a staring competition.

“Oh my god. Oh. My. God.” Anya provides background noise.

Mischa continues to do her rounds, there are wounds to be healed.

“Poncey fecker.” Newt mumbles.
“What?” Cas stares hard at the Gnome.
“I said nothing.”

“Leave him.” Anya interjects, “what does it matter now what he said?”
Cas shrugs, staggers off and leaves the Gnome alone.

“Oh. My. God.” Anya again, although there’s something about her voice- a revelation?

The would-be-paladin quickly-turns, “what is it?”

“Well look at this… if we cut here, and here…” Anya makes chopping motions over the dead Dire Skunk’s carcass, “then we’ll have enough hide for a dress, maybe even a poncho… I mean it stinks now, but we can fix that.”

Mischa has heard enough, “you would slaughter this proud creature just to make… a poncho?”
“No sweetie. I slaughtered this beast because it got in my way, sorry OUR way, and as I remember it was that Flare of yours that finally did for it. The poncho’s just a bonus.”

Mischa spins round, defeated, strides across the room and bumps into Jim’s chest. Without thinking he snakes his arm around her shoulders, and gingerly pats the spot between her shoulder blades, a trail of warm wee coils out from his left trouser leg- merges with the bat faeces, what the hell, he isn’t going to smell any worse, he plasters on a triumphant grin- head thinks, girlfriend.

Five minutes later, his arm still slightly numb after the creatures attack, Cas points at the tunnel exit, makes a sign for silence. Newt skips forward and on, the others follow, Anya toting her soon-to-be poncho.

They head left into the Dire Skunks lair, and it’s as simple as that, one stinking corner a toilet, another with bedding, all around the faint ammonia stench, both in the room, and on Jim and Bec.

“No treasure.” Newt is disappointed.
“What did you expect, a ruddy chest?” Cas is still angry it seems.
Newt turns away and silently mimics the Lords words, like a child.

They back out and head off on the right-hand spur, the cramped tunnel, for some, only six feet high and five wide, curves round to a crude stone door on the right, then plunges on, there are lights ahead, a pair of them bobbing too and fro.

Newt goes to investigate but is held back, Cas grips tight his arm.

“You two. Be careful.” He nods at Mischa and then Jim, they sneak ahead.

“What about the door then?” Newt nods towards it.
“Shhhh. Have patience, not yet.” Cas replies.

The Gnome kicks a stone and shrugs into the shadow.

Ahead a much larger cavern, the drip of water to the left, also Mischa spies two possible exits, one left past the water, one straight ahead. Stalactites and stalagmites dot the floor and ceiling, some immense. Between them wend three pairs of flashing lights.

“Wha…” Jim begins.
“Fire Beetles.” Mischa finishes whispering.

She nods for Jim to follow, scuttles into the chamber. Jim follows, after first drawing his bow and setting in place his magic arrow.

The first beetle catches a whiff of Jim approaching, thinks Dire Skunk, and beetles off, the second the same, the third however does not make the connection, it skitters and rattles over, it’s jaws snapping open and shut. Jim draws a bead on the approaching monster, time to be a hero, draws the string as far back as he can.

Fwung-g-g-g

The arrow flies three feet, ricochets on the cavern floor, and then careens off into the darkness.

CRACK.

Jim’s bow snaps clean in half.

The Fire Beetle closes in on Mischa, ready for the kill.

Clunk-scree.

Mischa’s sickle digs a furrow in its carapace, to no effect; its jaws snap shut just missing Mischa’s leg. There’s no use for it.

“HELP.” She screams.

The beetle lunges again as the others come running, misses again, the other two beetles it seems have found the courage to join the fray, they clatter over. Mischa stabs again this time slices air.

Jim drops the remains of his useless bow and steps in swinging his battleaxe.

CRUNCH

Smashing the creature where it stands- one down.

Lord Cas charges in, takes in the scene, spots the nearest threatening beetle and continues his charge to intercept, the beetle redoubles its efforts, the two meet in a horrendous smash. Cas swings high and wide, and off-balance is mown down by the beetle, under it he sways and shrugs as the creatures jaws snap open and closed inches from his face.

Thank heavens for Bec following close behind, his spear lances out and down.

CRUNCH.

Through the creatures carapace, and through its body, stopping only for the caverns stone floor- between the squirming would-be-paladin’s legs. Bec, in one swift motion, levers the beetle up into the air and swats his spear sideways, flinging the dead beetle off into the dark. Just in time for the final beetle to arrive. Jaws agape it sprints the last few feet aiming for Bec’s leg.

CRUNCH

The spear comes again impaling the thing mid-stride; it kicks air for a second and then expires.

Anya tumbles into the chamber.

“BEEE Kal. BEEE-KUL. BEE-KiLL”

Bec stretches down and wrenches Cas back to his feet, the young Lord is short on words, he pats Bec’s arm.

“A is for ‘a BEEE-KUL.’” Bec states, then for good measure, “Can I have sandwich?”

Jim searches around in the dark, tippy-toe, trying to be quiet; he finds the jet black magical arrow after a short while, not a scratch on it, which is more than can be said for his bow.

He heads back to the others, and to Cas, offers him the miserable arrow. Cas smirks, shuffles his own bow off his shoulder and instead proffers it to Jim.

“I… er… I.”
“Take it.”

Cas passes his bow over, Jim awkwardly grins, as Cas clasps his arm.

“We’re in this together.” The would-be-paladin confirms then winks.

The six, no scratch that- five, gather again.

Hang on, where’s Newt?

“It’s open”, announces a small voice from back down the passage.

Cas grimaces, the five head back to see what Newt has found.

Next Turn: Tomb it may concern.