The rotting leaves crumbled and small sodden twigs crunched underfoot as
the small expedition of three explorers made its way up through the
dense forest towards the mountain. The sky was overcast, and the air was
thick with a sense of foreboding. BigJobbs, dressed in a well worn
leather jacket, thick leather pants and a beaten old hat that had seen
better decades, stopped to examine the trail - they had been travelling
for almost half an hour, and should have arrived at their destination
some time ago. He stood up, satisfied that they were indeed still on the
right track. He stiffened slightly at a sound behind him.
snik
It was the sound of the hammer of a revolver being clicked back.
He turned, and as he did, he whipped something out from beneath his
leather jacket: a length of red liquorice, about 7 feet long. His arm
snapped back, and the liquorice flew out, entangling itself around the
revolver and sending it flying into the undergrowth. The man looked at
him in a curious mix of surprise and terror, and fled.
The two men arrived at an entrance into the mountain, carved out of the
rock hundreds of years ago by primitives, doing the bidding of whatever
Gods they chose to fear. There were markings by the entrance - carvings
and wards designed to frighten off intruders. One was a face, its tongue
pointing out grossly, the other a crude depiction of a man in an
Egyptian-like stance, one hand outstretched at chest height. The
tanned, foreign man spoke.
"Senor - those symbols! What do they mean?"
"No vegetarians past this point, and you must be this tall to enter,"
BigJobbs replied casually.
They pushed their way through the mass of cobwebs that covered the
entrance and made their way into the mountain. They had not travelled
more than a few metres when the foreigner whispered again.
"Senor - on your back!
BigJobbs turned his head, and saw a large tarantula on his shoulder.
Without flinching, he reached out a hand and popped it into his mouth.
Chewing happily, he motioned for the other man to turn around, and
scraped the others off the man's back. Shaking his head, he continued
down the narrow passage, his lit torch guttering in the musty air.
He soon motioned to the other man to stop, as he heard muttering close
by. Seeing a shaft of light penetrating the gloom, he reached up with
one hand and pierced that beam of light. Instantly, a secret door opened
in one wall. Behind this was the skeleton of a man long since dead,
standing in front of an open door. In the doorway was a short figure in
an ill-fitting suit, who was carrying a suitcase. The conversation
echoed down into the passage.
"And if you'll just allow me to demonstrate, you'll find to your delight that the Sup-A-Suck 2000 has all the features of a regular vacuum."
BigJobbs shook his head sadly. That was no way for a man to die.
They continued down the passage, safely protected by earplugs.
They soon rounded a corner, upon which was a golden relief , made into a
ward. The gold was so pure as to be almost yellow, and it shone
brightly, even after centuries of neglect. Carved into the face were two
large onyx for eyes, and a similarly onyx-laid smile that was almost a
full semi-circle. BigJobbs stopped to marvel at this display - he had
seen the same ward against evil spirits in almost every culture he had
ever studied.
Around the next corner, the passageway became clogged up with dirt,
which nearly hid a design layed into the floor. BigJobbs studied the
pattern for a few seconds, and the carefully pressed down on part of the
pattern. The effect was immediate - a face carved into the wall
instantly shot out a good sized wad of chewed tobacco, which landed on
the opposite wall with a disgusting splat sound. He looked down the
corridor some distance, and saw a multitude of faces, all grinning, and
most of them oozing stuff out of their mouths. Hmmm, he hadn't been
expectorating THIS...
{Author's note: yeah right, like YOU wouldn't have put that in there!}
BigJobbs stepped across the pattern as carefully as he could, and
managed to get across without triggering a single trap. His assistant
was not so lucky - after no more than three steps, he stood on one of
the pressure plates, and was hit full in the chest by a sticky stream of
chewed fudge toffee. With a scream, he turned and fled.
BigJobbs ascended the last set of steps, and for the first time was able
to look upon his prize. It rested on a small raised section atop a 3
foot high circular stone plinth. A single tooth, a molar to be precise,
with a diamond set within a gold filling. He looked at it carefully,
gauging the weight. He pulled a gobstopper from his pocket, and weighed
it in his hand. He nodded to himself, put the gobstopper into his mouth,
and sucked on it for a few seconds. Spitting it back into his hand, he
compared the two again. Satisfied, he moved. With the speed of a snake,
he replaced the tooth with the gobstopper. Grinning to himself about how
easy this was, he turned to leave. And heard the sound of a gobstopper
rolling off a small platform and striking the floor.
He ran for it.
A multitude of faces spat at him, but he was too fast - they merely
coated the walls with an incredible variety of gloopy substances. The
ward was still smiling at him, but he didn't have time to worry about
it.
As he fled down the corridor, he noticed his assistant - the poor soul
had been accosted by a man offering the 'Nappi-San Doorstep Challenge',
and was in the process of having his shirt washed. He ran on, hearing an
ominous rumbling in the distance, which was getting closer by the
second...
As he ran, he looked over his shoulder. He saw a most fearsome sight - a
huge, grossly fat man with disgustingly blotchy pallid white skin
running after him, waving his arms in the air, the man was wearing a
food-splotched white t-shirt with a large "A" printed on the front, and
a large pair of red and white shorts. He seemed rather agitated,
alternately holding the side of his face and then shaking his fists at
BigJobbs, all the time shouting unintelligibly.
BigJobbs redoubled his efforts, and ran for his life.
He sprinted out of the cave system, out into the overcast light of early
evening and stopped short as a bunch of about 40 natives pointed blowpipes and spears at him. From their midst stepped a man.
"Mr. Jobbs, so good to see you again."
"Why, Triune, a pleasure as always," grated BigJobbs through clenched
teeth.
"I trust you have it?"
Grumbling to himself, BigJobbs handed over the tooth.
"You see, there is nothing you can get that I cannot take off you,"
sneered the mage.
BigJobbs looked behind him anxiously as the rumbling started to grow
dangerously in volume.
The natives seemed to grow more and more agitated, and one by one fell
on their faces in supplication.
BigJobbs decided that this would be as good a time as any, and proceeded
to leg it.
Behind him he heard the sounds of a bunch of natives being beaten up,
with a BAMF sound in there somewhere, which he assumed was the mage
teleporting out, damn wizards, he thought to himself.. always ready to
do flashy magic to get their butts out of the firing line...
He reached the river, and climbed aboard a float plane, whose engine was
already revving.
The pilot shouted to BigJobbs over the engine noise.
"Did you get it, BJ?"
"Bloody wizard interfered, Handel."
"Oh well, should keep them happy for a while - we can always go and get
it back later."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Oh, by the way, BJ, we've got a new job lined up!"
"Cool! What?"
"We get to go and find a cache of 2000 year old beer!"
