Chapter 53: 12- All His Yips, Barks And Growls

He ended up taking another four points of damage from shrapnel, and groaned in pain. Luckily Mr. Fister was now a smoking crater, because Corbin didn’t have much fight left in him.

 

You have defeated Groblin Steam Fister!

You gain 575 xp!

You gain 195 silver!

The Groblin Steam Fister has dropped 2 small healing potions!

The Groblin Steam Fister has dropped a mana potion!

The Groblin Steam Fister has also dropped Right Tool For the Job!

 

He sighed. Clearly he couldn’t carry any of that stuff. And if there was another one of these in between him and Prissy–

“Here,” the fae said, and extended a healing potion down so Corbin could lap it up.

He couldn’t recall having had a healing potion since this whole insanity began, but it tasted like way too much cinnamon trying to mask something rotten. But then again, his taste buds had changed, or his brain had changed since becoming a doggo, and apparently rot plus heavy spice was just the absolute pinnacle of cuisine. Part of his mind went gross while the other part sighed in delight and wondered if there was any more. As for the healing bit, it was a painful, hot sensation suddenly roaring outward from his stomach. Luckily, it was brief, because he barked out at least once.

“Corb?” Prissy’s voice came from, it seemed, a long way off. It sounded as though she was in trouble, based on the fact that she didn’t call him something stupid like ‘Corby-me-corgi’, and the weakness in her tone.

“Come on,” he told the fae. “Make sure Brosh gets all the components he can. We may need him to make some gadget or another.”

He dashed down the stairs, most of his HP restored.

He encountered several dead groblins and the wreckage of their huge contraption still taking up the vast majority of the hall. It had been designed to chop up everything it came upon any time it went down one of the standard ten foot square halls, which clearly the groblins had excavated for just such a defensive purpose. Originally, this underground Ullennai wouldn’t have been so expansive, but the groblins had moved in, and brought their excavation methods with them. Aside from the conical dish at the front with the whirling death blades he couldn’t see, it was just like a stripped-away car chassis with a chugging steam engine throwing out sparks, and flames not far away. He was honestly flummoxed as to why the whole thing hadn’t exploded. But then groblins weren’t the goblins of earth’s fantasy fringes, and not all their tech was horrible death traps, apparently.

“Prissy?” He called out.

“Oy asked ye not ta call me tha, if’n ye recall.”

So she was back there, and in good enough health to chide him, but not in a good enough position to really give him serious guff. Her response indicated he definitely needed to save her.

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“Hold tight and I’ll… get this… thing…”

Okay he had no idea how to handle the groblin war machine. Which was still sort of on fire.

He turned to find Dvelderrin and Brosh just behind him, staring at the wreckage, and the vast body of Todd not far off, still shaking back and forth. The behemoth was presently giggling, and bouncing up and down. Apparently someone far below was giving him the tickle torture treatment.

“We need to move this thing,” he told the fae. “My companion is behind it, and she’s trapped… the floor might collapse so let’s actually do something this time.”

The fae interpreted all his yips, barks and growls into something Brosh could understand. The orc considered the problem for just a few moments too long. Clearly neither of them were actually any good at their job descriptions. Well, maybe he could Worry them to death, and get a piece of loot out of their dead bodies… and push it through the little hole at the corner of the passage, where he could see Prissy’s boot peeking out.

Just as he was about to put his plan into motion, starting with the sorcerer, an item leapt into Brosh’s hands, and he tossed it onto the fire. Corbin got a scant look at something that might’ve been a pill, but about nine inches long, as big around as his wrist. Bright magic swirled, a color he couldn’t make out given he was a doggo, and brilliantly colored foam quickly enveloped the flames.

“That won’t help–” he started to say, only to have Brosh stride forward, take a knee, and use a tool on the war machine for a few seconds. In no time he had begun to absorb chunks of the mechanism into his inventory. Huh.

As soon as the engine vanished into Brosh’s inventory, the whirling death blades on Prissy’s side would stop spinning.

“How you doing?” he asked.

“Been betta,” she said sullenly. 

“We’re getting you out.”

“I been starin’ at me ex’s arse the whole bloody time.”

“Oh yuck, sorry.”

Brosh had the fae stand and hold the drill portion while he cut it in half with some saw or another, grinning the whole time. When Corbin asked, he explained that all this game mechanic appearance did was cut his salvage and invention time down by an almost infinite degree. This machine would’ve taken hours to disassemble safely, and that said nothing of the cutting apart. Now, with the game stats, taking parts out basically meant fiddling with a tool for a moment before the piece appeared as a loot item, which he could make vanish into his inventory.

“I was just an apprentice when the portal appeared, with years of painful, tedious, boring work ahead of me, cleanin’ up shop and performing minor tasks for the master… all that stopped the day the portal opened. Master Crezallian threw up his hands and just walked out of the shop. Nobody knew where he went.”

“Cool story bro, but get my friend out of there.”

The cutting was just finishing up, and Dvellandrin suddenly struggled under the weight of the huge metal shard, until Brosh laughed and told him to put it in his inventory for later. The giant metal thing just disappeared, leaving Prissy there.

She looked like she’d just been through eight months of a contested divorce. Corbin darted forward and allowed her to cry into his fur, while he licked her face over and over, without regard to what it meant between them. Comfort was the only thing on his dog brain. Soon enough her relieved sobbing turned into disgusted, delighted laughter.

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