Chương 3: Chapter Two

Bob had no idea how long it'd been. In the beginning he figured that this… whatever it was, would be finished up relatively quickly. Either he was simply in the midst of an end-of-life delusion – his leading theory at the time – or the situation he was in was somehow real; meaning he was stuck in the body of an immobile creature with one hit point and a position reserved for it at the bottom of the food chain.

Either way, Bob expected to either be languishing in non-existence or regretting his religious choices within the hour. It had, he felt he could say with reasonable certainty, been far, far longer than that. After a while, he started to count the droplets in an attempt to keep track of time. An attempt which failed miserably when some unknown change caused the flow of water to surge, coming out less in droplets and more in streams. Enough so that he was even briefly concerned that the cavern was going to flood.

Well, perhaps less concerned and more… resigned to it and all further coming tragedies. But still, it was on his mind. It didn't come to pass, however. All the water streaming harmlessly around him to fill up some endless reservoir deeper in the cave system. Leaving him stuck with his sad, unchanging view. It left quite a bit of time for thought. Deep thought, even. For a time, visions of hell or purgatory continued to plague his mind.

He reached out to ancient memories of going to church with his grandparents, hoping to find either solace or instruction. He scoured his mind for any explanation as to why he was here, silently whispering apologies and plans of change to every deity he could remember. In the end, nothing he tried accomplished anything. Nothing responded to him outside of 'the system'; which would obediently open up his status pages when requested, but little else. Eventually, he simply allowed himself to… fade.

His mind actively disassociating itself from his 'body' and escaping into long, rambling daydreams. His sanity slowly being eaten away, bit by bit. Until he heard a metallic noise rattle somewhere off in the distance. He jerked his consciousness back into focus at the sound, unsure whether or not he had imagined it. Until it repeated itself. And then again. Soon the noises began to get louder, more distinguishable. The sound of rattling metal. Of heavy, thudding footsteps. Of muted conversation. Of people.

He felt the entirety of his existence begin to strain as he attempted – and failed – to force his vision towards the sounds. Desperately hoping they would continue heading this way. Even as he was making his mental pleas however, a greater portion of himself wondered at the point of them. He'd been transformed into something inhuman. Something which might not appear alive at all. Even if whoever was making those sounds was actually heading his way, it would probably be best if Bob was simply ignored.

Treated as a useless bit of debris littering the tunnel. Worst case scenario, they did notice what he was. After which point, if his species description was correct, he would likely be summarily disposed of. Of course, given that staying alive meant an unknowable length of time spent staring at a damp ceiling, perhaps the two options should be swapped. As the sounds crept ever closer however, all thoughts of stranger assisted suicide either faded or were put on hold.

Especially when he started hearing the edges of conversation. It became obvious fairly quickly that there was more than one being heading towards him. Different tones and pitches echoed along the stone walls, the words still unintelligible, but the situation somehow less so. They were engaged in a debate. One which the higher pitched of the two was obviously losing, if the whiny and plaintive twang in their voice was any evidence.

As the voices became more understandable he, for a moment, thought they were speaking English. Their conversation had grown clear enough that he could make out certain words and phrases. The first being a gruff 'shut up' from a voice he didn't recognize; bringing the total number of people to at least three. This was followed by the high-pitched voice declaring that he 'was just asking questions' and a put-upon sigh from the third.

It took him a few moments to realize that while he had understood the meaning of the words, their actual pronunciation was utterly alien to him. Bob would probably be more shocked by this revelation had he not, only a short time ago, been transformed into a sapient coin purse. Comparatively, being given fluency in an alien language was slightly below par on the weirdness scale he'd become accustomed to.

Enough so that he mentally waved the issue off, far more focused on what little of the conversation he could understand; rather than how he could understand it. Stolen story; please report. Finally, the clomping of boots rounded a corner and Bob realized they were likely in the same room as him. Almost certainly within vision. At least, if whatever you happened to see through was capable of movement. Which left him fairly shit out of luck. Luckily, his new friends weren't exactly trying to go unnoticed.

"Look, I'm not saying we should declare war on the entire clan or anything." The whiny voice began again.

"I'm just saying that with the bounty out in West Bridge, it's just throwing money away to – Whoa! What happened to this poor asshole!?" If Bob could have tensed up, he would have. While the beginning of the conversation sounded like it was pointed away from him, likely continuing a debate with his companions, the final exclamation felt directed at his exact position. Luckily, his anxiety didn't have much time to rise before it was interrupted by one of the whiny man's partners.

"That." The put-upon man said gustily.

"Is why we aren't going through with your dumbass idea to ambush a goblin patrol. This 'poor asshole' probably had the same thought. One I imagine he regretted after the first few of those javelins found their way into his guts." Bob felt himself starting to relax as the attention turned out not to be focused on him. Before then becoming instantly stressed again when he realized that he had apparently been lying next to a mutilated corpse.

"Hey! Looks like the little green shits left behind some loot! Must have been dumb as fuck not to notice it. Three-way split?" And it turned out that the attention hadn't been taken that far off him anyway. Bob felt a shiver of fear run up his nonexistent spine at the realization that these may be his final moments. The whole of his existence in this world limited to a few traumatizing days in a damp cave.

He heard the exasperated man take in a breath to speak, but he was quickly cut off by the third, gruffer voice from earlier.

"Nah," the man said quickly, an odd lilt to his voice.

"Finder's fortune. That one's all yours." There was a brief pause, as if all involved were mildly surprised by his interruption.

"Are you sure?" The whiney man eventually asked. Bob almost hearing his head turn to the put-upon man by the end of his sentence. There was another long moment before the other man responded.

"Sure." The man finally said, his own voice sounding no different from before.

"Keld's right, you spotted the coin and it's not really a big enough pick-up to bother splitting. Help yourself."

"Well," Whiny said slowly, even as Bob could hear the man's feet turn towards him.

"If you're both sure, then I suppose I will." The footsteps seemed to echo in Bob's ears as the man made his way across the room. Then, for the first time in what was almost certainly days, Bob found his view replaced. Instead of the endless, wet abyss of a far-off ceiling; he was now staring at the spotty, unwashed face of a redheaded teenage boy. Were it not impossible, he would have almost certainly jumped in surprise at the boy's sudden appearance.

Even if he logically, as much as the word could be used in these circumstances, understood that he was only a tad larger than a man's clenched fist, the immense size disparity still shocked him. The boy was a giant in his eye, his massive body easily eclipsing the rest of his surroundings as he bent down towards Bob's helpless form.

"Oi, it's a fancy one too. Got a jeweled cinch and everything." An enormous hand filled Bob's vision, before moments later lifting him from the ground. His tasseled eye spinning wildly as his mind shrieked in terror.

"Damn, thing's empty." Bob felt a touch of nausea as he was shaken from side to side.

"Guess the green-skins just decided to take the copper and leave the pouch."

"Still a damn sight better than the rag you have hanging off your belt." The gruff man nearly interrupted, seeming again like he was trying to get the first word.

"You should swap over. Girls might take a shine to you with that pretty dangling off your purse." This time Bob was actually able to see the boy's head turn towards the put-upon man, a questioning expression taking over his face. There was another slight pause.

"Your choice." The third man eventually said.

"Either way, make it quick. We need another six pounds of dull-light lichen if we're going to make anything close to a decent return." The boy shrugged at that, before staring downwards past Bob and fiddling slightly with his unoccupied arm.

"Might as well, I suppose." The boy said.

"Was thinkin' of selling it, but it probably wouldn't be worth the trouble for how much I'd get." Bob felt himself spun around once more, vision turned away from the boy and landing for the first time on the older men in the group. The eager expression on one of their faces filling him with trepidation. He briefly noted their clothes. Things of hard leather and iron rivets. As well as the medieval weaponry dangling off their belts.

Then, after a few more moments of the boy fiddling around, he felt the strangest sensation run through his body. It evoked horrible childhood memories of wet-willies on the playground. Like someone was shoving their filthy digits into his mouth and ears simultaneously. It also evoked an instinctive reaction he had no idea existed. One he would have had a better chance of halting a sneeze than repressing. As soon as those fingers entered him, a bit of his physiology he was also completely ignorant of bit down. Hard.

Ding! Unarmed Path Skill Acquired: Bite: (F)"GODSDAMN IT!" The scream seemed to echo across the halls as Bob was whipped about from side to side, his newly-found jaws refusing to slide from the boy's fingers. His scream wasn't the only sound filling the room though. The laughter from the other two men was of sizable competition. As he was spinning around, he could even see one of them leaning against the wall for support.

"HA!" The gruff voice from earlier shouted out.

"Maybe that'll teach you to wander around, running your mouth like some Dungeon veteran! You can't even spot a new-born mimic!" The rapid whipping about lasted only a few moments more before Bob felt his grip begin to give. After that, it only took one more good shake to send him flying across the room. The short trip also, purely by happenstance, managed to answer his previous question about where all the water was flowing.

He was only given a brief glance at the massive hole in the ground before he was sent shooting over the edge of it. The last thing he saw before falling into endless darkness being the distraught face of the teenage boy staring back at him.

"That thing took all my coin!" The laughter of the other two men echoed in the darkness far longer than he expected it to.