“The slightest twitch can set one off. One errant movement, a misplaced breath, anything can trigger their defenses.” Heraldin carefully maneuvered a twisted lockpick toward an ancient padlock. “Could be poisoned darts. Deadly gas. Magical lightning. Anything. A delicate touch is everything with a Baronson and Knock.”
Kaitha took a step back next to him, eyes scanning the huge cavern. “I appreciate that, but—”
“If there’s a ‘but,’ you don’t appreciate it. Baronson and Knock were the greatest locksmith and trapmaker of the Sixth Age.” The bard’s voice rose into the high, strained timbre of a truly dedicated fanatic. “Nobody has ever come close to their ingenious craftsmanship. This was probably installed back when the Dark Ones occupied Wynspar over five centuries ago, and it’s still operational! It’s a—”
“Shut up and pick that thrice-cursed lock!” roared Gorm, wrestling with a small, amphibious monster clinging to his shield. The creature stood no taller than his thigh, with damp blue skin covered in slime from the tip of its tail to its blunt snout.
Kaitha loosed her arrow. The creature on Gorm’s shield flashed with orange light, stiffened, and bounced into a pack of its compatriots. A moment later, it clambered to its feet and resumed its advance.
“What in the hells are these things?” hollered Laruna. She conjured a wave of flame at several of the salamander-like creatures, sending the survivors scampering back toward the black pool on the far side of the cavern.
“I believe they’re called newtonians.” Jynn waved the Wormwood Staff, and a nearby specimen withered and crumpled like a slug under salt. “A monstrous race of amphibians that has never managed to acclimate to—”
“Nah! Ain’t newtonians!” Gorm interrupted as he moved to intercept a pack of creatures before they reached the mages. “Newtonians are like squishy, slimy lizardmen with half the brains!”
“Amphibians, yes,” said Jynn.
“That sounds like these!” said Laruna.
Gaist caught a nearby assailant with a low swing from his mace, sending it arcing through the cavern like a flare before plunging into the black water. He turned to Laruna and shook his head.
“They ain’t squishy like newts. Watch!” Gorm delivered an expert slash of his axe that should have bisected a nearby specimen. Instead, the creature glowed orange and went totally rigid for a split second, and Gorm’s axe bounced harmlessly off it as it tumbled away. It snickered as it righted itself, mocking the futility of the Dwarf’s assault. “See? Newtonians don’t do that.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Kaitha. She fired another arrow, but the non-newtonians were gathering in greater numbers now.
“It’d help if we could get through that bloody door!” Gorm yelled over his shoulder.
“It’d be faster if I could concentrate!” Heraldin shot back.
Gorm gritted his teeth and weighed his options. Magic was effective against the salamander-like humanoids, but the mages’ reserves were already dwindling. The journey into Wynspar’s depths had already set the party against walking skeletons, festering blightbats, several irate Rock Drakes, a gang of bugbears, a swarm of bearbugs, and a Viscous Rhombohedron, all of which had required considerable strength and sorcery to overcome. The party needed rest, but there was no telling how much farther they needed to fight before the next empty chamber. He weighed the costs and the benefits, and signaled Laruna to stand back. Surviving the morbid accounting of a dungeon quest required careful budgeting of one’s death dealing resources, and vaporizing the salamander-people was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
He scanned their surroundings for other opportunities, but the cavern was totally bereft of pit traps, acid vats, precipitously swaying stalactites or lighting fixtures, or anything else that could be used to advantage by an enterprising and creative hero. The cave’s only feature was the pool, a black mirror in the gloom, but given the dark shapes still emerging from it, Gorm doubted that the non-newtonians could be harmed by the water.
A bold forerunner leapt at Gorm. He swatted the amphibian away with his shield. The creature went bright orange—practically luminous in the dim light of the glowstones—and bounced into one of its compatriots. The second non-newtonian also went rigid and vibrantly amber, and the two fell together.
Within the whirling gears of Gorm’s mind, an idea sparked. Trajectories and forces lined up in his mind’s eye as he looped his axe onto his belt and made a sudden charge. In one swift motion, the Dwarf seized a surprised non-Newtonian by the neck and slammed it into the ground. He felt the jelly-like flaps of its neck become as solid as oak in an amber flash, and its body went as straight and stiff as a javelin. He hurled it into the front ranks of the creeping horde, which glowed and went rigid upon impact. These non-newtonians, in turn, tumbled into the ranks behind them, and so forth until waves of orange light were cascading through the throng of amphibious monsters.
“Yes!” shouted Jynn. “If enough force triggers their sudden increase in density, we can create a chain reaction to—”
“Don’t overcomplicate it! Just hit ’em hard!” Gorm grinned as he leapt toward another unfortunate non-newtonian.
Kaitha kicked the front-runners into the crowd with deadly precision. Gaist wielded a victim in each hand, sweeping the stunned salamanders through the ranks in graceful arcs. Gorm bowled into the ranks of slimy soldiers, using his shield to knock waves of foes back. Even Laruna and Jynn got in an odd punch or swat with a staff. Orange light and confused squawks filled the room as the non-newtonians tumbled over each other.
Yet despite the success of Gorm’s tactic, their enemies weren’t actually being felled, or harmed at all. Within a few seconds of impact, the non-Newtonians would return to their natural flaccidness and begin disentangling from each other. Some began to break away and head back for the pool, but most immediately resumed their slow advance on the heroes.
“We can’t keep this up forever!” Kaitha hollered. “When’s that door going to open?”
“Still working on it!” Heraldin knelt by the only path forward, deftly moving his lockpicks.
As Gorm sent another wave of light and chaos through the non-Newtonians with a punch of his shield, he noticed that the group that had returned to the pool weren’t resubmerging. Instead, they stood at the edge of the inky water and joined in a low chorus of guttural, rhythmic cries.
“Oobleck! Oobleck! Oobleck!”
“What’s an oobleck?” asked Laruna.
Gaist shrugged.
“I have some theories, but I’d rather not see them proven.” Jynn pointed toward the pool with the Wyrmwood Staff. “Look!”
Gorm’s eye caught it then, a hint of a huge bulge in the pool. As the non-newtonians’ chants rose, so did the black mass in the water, revealing a glint in an eye bigger than Gorm’s shield.
“What is that thing?” cried Laruna.
“How deep is that pool?” Jynn wondered aloud.
“How’s that thrice-cursed lock coming along?” Kaitha shouted.
“I’m doing my best!” Heraldin gave a deft twist of his pick.
“Do better!” yelled Gorm.
Water and ooze poured from the oobleck’s head as it rose above the pool. An arm like an ancient, slime-covered oak emerged from the muck and found purchase on the stone ridge. The non-newtonians cheered at its emergence and gestured at the heroes with malicious delight.
“I’m not sure we can hit that one hard enough,” Kaitha said to Gorm. “Any ideas?”
“I’m about ready to feed him the bard if he doesn’t hurry up and—”
“Open!” yelled Heraldin over a metallic clank.
