Luther's Adventure Log

Such Moist, Very Upset

It was very moist and dark inside the Maneater's mouth, but it smelled like dead bodies, the same as everywhere else in Bitterblack Island, so at least that was the same. I tried to wriggle free, but it was like one of those finger traps, only made of meat and teeth and big enough to fit a man inside it. Struggling didn't seem to help a lot.

"Master! Don't worry, we'll get you out!" I felt Monica grab my ankles and start pulling to try to dislodge me from the creature's mouth, but all that did was make it squeeze down tighter, trying to pull me the rest of the way down its throat.

"Stand back, Mom! I'm gonna hit it with my sword!"

"No, don't! You might hit your father!"

"Then what are we going to do?!"

"I don't know! Zarianna, help!"

"Looks like you guys have this covered."

"Nah, it's cool, guys. I'm not being eaten alive by a treasure chest here or anything."

"I'm gonna cut it!" Gillian wailed.

"Try not to chop his head off while you're at it." Zarianna advised indifferently.

"I'm cutting it! I'm sorry, Daddy!" Before I could say anything, a massive flamberge blade ripped through the walls of the meat tube barely an inch away from my face and I fell to the ground, still wrapped up in the Maneater's dead body like some kind of Arisen chimichanga.

"Are you dead?" Zarianna asked, leaning over to look at me from the severed end of the Maneater.

"Not yet, but give it time." I replied, wriggling free from the now-dead box worm.

We moved on, heading down an incredibly narrow spiral staircase, stepping over giant rodents and whatnot on the way, headed through some empty rooms full of boxes and piles of bones, and turned the corner to see the gaudiest Death Knights I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Both were skeletons under that stupid armor, no doubt about that, but one was dressed in idiotic golden plate armor while the other was dressed in garish silver.

"Halt, newcomers! You may not pass this way without answering our riddles!" The silver one said, brandishing his hammer and making a stupid pose.

"Riddles?" Monica asked, interested. "Not a test of skill?"

"Well, you had to kill a fucking lot of people to fucking get here, now, didn't ya?" The gold one said with a surprisingly rough accent. "We're not fucking stupid, mate! We don't want to fucking die!"

"Wait, how can a skeleton even die? Aren't you guys already dead?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Oh, no. We are not going there. You are not going to trick us into an existential crisis!" The silver one said, leaning on his hammer.

"But think about it. You don't have any skin. Or muscles. How are you supporting the armor? Shouldn't the weight of all that crap make you fall apart? I mean, how are dry bones supporting armor?"

"Well, I suppose if you did not know anything about magic--" The silver one started.

"And your voice. How are you talking? Where does it come from? From what organ does that come from? You don't have any organs. You're just skeletons. How are you making sounds?"

"Now, fucking wait just a fucking minute--" The gold one began, pointing his gaudy gold sword at me.

"And how can you see me? You don't have any eyeballs. For that matter, how do you hear me? No ears. No eardrums to speak of. You have none of the required parts. You're just bare bones."