>>5225569“Told you.” Sybil mutters under her breath as you both methodically slice through another series of tripwires placed along the tunnel. You’ll admit you were taken off-guard at first, but after the eighth or ninth set of traps it got kinda old.
“Say what ya’ will about da’ guy,” Ly remarks as you stuff a <span class="mu-r">NAILBOMB</span> into your pocket, “he knows his way around a trap or two!”
“A shame he couldn’t direct this creativity towards something more… hold on…” Sybil slows down mid-jog to burn away another wire with her <span class="mu-b">RADIANT BLADE,</span> “... there we go. Something more <span class="mu-i">beneficial</span>...”
The hell’s she talking about? This is <span class="mu-i">plenty</span> beneficial, you retort as you stuff <span class="mu-i">ANOTHER</span> <span class="mu-r">NAILBOMB</span> into your inventory! At this rate you’ll be able to blow apart a whole continent!
“Save it for our quarry, please.” Sybil hisses as the two of you emerge, or rather <span class="mu-i">enter</span> a room filled to the brim with thick, hot steam! Not as hot as the stuff you encountered at the <span class="mu-g">DOGGIE BONE FACTORY,</span> of course, but if you had to give it a name you’d call it ‘<span class="mu-i">Armpit Temperature</span>’. That oughta’ explain it.
“Look there!” Whispers your pale pal as she points a finger across the expanse! Past what look like the tops of several boilers sits a sign lit up for emergencies–the words ‘<span class="mu-i">SEWER ACCESS</span>’ punctuated by a bright red arrow pointing deeper into the foggy abyss! Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you look to Sybil for confirmation–this is it, huh?
“Yes…” She nods as she quietly scans the steam. “But I don’t sense him… Let me check if he already lef-”
Before Syb can finish, the steamy air hisses as a <span class="mu-r">RUSTY CLEAVER</span> whizzes through the air and embeds itself into the wall next to your heads! Sending a magical blast from where it came from, your pal growls as a familiar voice rises from within the steam:
“Well, well, well… letting your friends handle my scraps, Stanley? <span class="mu-i">Very</span> predictable.”
Another cleaver sails through the fog–this one from a completely different direction! Dodging to the side, you preemptively armor up with an agitated snarl–jig’s up, asshole! Show yourself!
>CONTD. 