The three women entered a circle inscribed in some kind of glowing ink. The uppity drow performed a complex pantomime act, trying very hard to lend an air of rheumatism to her effortless gyration. Hilda snorted. The dark elf really was a ridiculous creature. Of course, she was thoroughly chaotic. Her whole race was. By rights, Hilda should be setting the drow on fire, not skeptically watching her undulate like a belly dancer with very little belly. Then again, Hilda had met plenty of very lawful, very proper dwarfs and none of them offered her any exciting opportunities. Hilda simply didn’t have the luxury to do the right thing at the moment. Maybe when she was richer and better established…

The air shimmered and the antechamber dissolved like an oil painting in the rain to reveal a huge cavern full of massive stalactites covered in blue and green lichen. The only source of light in the cavern was a purple gem glowing at the tip of a staff held by a huge lizardman shaman leading a band of equally oversized warriors.

The great reptile was easily two meters tall and had a tail that looked like it could bisect an elephant. Its pale body was wrapped in dozens of chains and talismans. A necklace of perforated skulls and a belt of severed hands completed the creature’s venture into the field of unholy fashion.

Hilda’s heart started pounding as if trying to escape from the hideous idolator. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to keep from gasping like a beached fish. This was a short meeting, she reminded herself, after which she’d talk to normal people about normal business. Or be eaten by a crocodile from hell…

Hilda jumped as she became aware of dozens of creatures of different classes and races scattered throughout the cave, their weapons poised to make coleslaw out of the three women. She started to raise her hammer, but stopped when Mina placed a hand on her wrist.

“Don’t be so provincial, child,” the drow whispered. “These people have been petrified longer than your people have enjoyed this planet’s gravity. They’re perfectly harmless, I assure you.”

“Who did this to them?” Hilda asked, eyeing the statues suspiciously as the small party approached the band of reptilian monsters. There were at least six of the creatures trailing the shaman, all armed with high quality metal weapons as opposed to their people’s usual sticks and stones. All wore chains and necklaces of beaded skulls. Some wore skirts made of hands. One wore a shirt made of faces…

“I believe these poor fools have attempted to fight the Queen,” the drow scoffed. “Hm. Never a good idea.”

Hilda swallowed. “The queen of what…?”

The drow rolled her eyes and gave out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’ll recommend some educational materials after the meeting is concluded. Now, please pay attention to the giant lizard we’re about to negotiate with.” The drow leaned low to look Hilda in the eyes. “Do you think you could do that?”

Hilda nodded nervously. A second later she asked another question. “Why do they all wear little skulls?”

If the drow could roll her eyes any harder she’d be looking at an another dimension. “Obviously, it’s a baby skull based economy.”

If Hilda had any pearls, she’d have clatched them. “Goddess preserve us, are you serious?”

“Look,” the drow said with fake patience. “You’re going into big business now. International, inter-species, inter-alignment all that sort of thing. You mustn’t be so judgemental, dear. It’s provincial.”

Hilda looked at the party shambling in her direction. Oh, why didn’t she take a bathroom break before leaving? She felt so alone, so vulnerable, sandwiched between a dark elf and a demonic lizardman, with nothing but a cannibalistic fiend to call her ally… Then Hilda remembered that she was a paladin. A Paladin is never alone, for her goddess is always with her, even if she neglects half their prayers and keeps confusing blessings with nursery rhymes and popular elf songs.

For courage and solace, Hilda whispered one of the very few blessings from the Lunar Cycle she remembered by heart (give or take a few words here and there…)

She is my refuge and my fortress,

my Goddess, in whom I trust.

Surely she will save me

from the monsters' snare.

I will not fear the terror of night,

nor the dragon that flies by day,

nor the undead that stalk in the darkness,

nor the giants that destroy at midday.

A thousand may fall at my side

but it will not come near me.

Surely, I will look with my eyes

and see the punishment of the wicked.

By the time Hilda finished speaking, she felt like a dwarf again. She was a princess among riffraff, a diamond in the gravel, a rock in the ocean.

Beaming with confidence (or was it resignation), she looked at her companions and noticed that both kept their distance from her. The ghoul looked scared. The drow looked nauseated. Hm, I wonder if I activated some defensive ability by mistake…

“Greetings,” the shaman said in a voice like baby skulls crushed underfoot. Hilda had only once heard something that was deeper and more malevolent: the voice of the DM. She’s heard lizardmen sounds in the past (mostly the sounds they made as she beat them to death with her hammer.) This was not the voice of a lizardman.

“Peace,” Hilda replied before the drow had a chance to speak. The dark elf glared at her but Hilda ignored the prissy creature. Hilda was a dwarf and dwarfs were second to none. “I have heard that you need a member of the goodly races to perform a quest for you. I’ve come to hear your words and judge their worth.”

The creature chuckled in a voice like burning fields and crumbling walls. “Quest… I do not grant quests… quests are granted to the fools who wish to match their might against mine and die screaming…” the creature cackled. A forked tongue darted between its yellow fangs, “for I am not so benign as to kill quickly.”

Hilda tightened her grip on her battlehammer and raised her shield slightly. She looked back at the drow. The woman shrugged. Hilda noticed that the distance between herself and the drow increased by a few meters since last she checked. Philly was right beside her though, the ghoul’s stink adding a quantum of courage to the dwarf’s nervous heart.

“I…” Hilda’s throat was suddenly as dry as if she'd walked ten kilometers through the Carrion Desert. She coughed and wet her lips.. “Has there been a mistake?”

The giant lizard grinned, “Such amusing last words.” Acrid gas shot from its snout as it snorted in amusement. It snapped its head sideways and barked something in Draconic at one of its companions, a steel-clad lizardman armed with a halberd. It too wore a necklace of skulls. They were exclusively baby skulls.

The thing nodded and started walking in Hilda’s direction. Hilda took a step back and cried over her shoulder. “What did he say?”

Mina answered without raising her eyes from her nails. “‘Take her arms and legs so we may have the pleasure of pulling her entrails’ and, well, some other anatomical details I don’t care to divulge at the moment… you really should have let me talk.”

“Um, help?” Hilda said.

“Help yourself.” Mina answered. “I’m not fighting that thing.”

“I’ll save you!” Philly announced boldly and started for the lizards. Hilda stopped her. “Don’t do anything until I tell you. That thing is at least as armored as I am. Your odds of hitting it are miniscule. Plus, I suspect, it’s immune, or at least resistant, to poison.”

“What should I do?” The ghoul asked, pawing at her dress as if constricted by it. Already swaths of purple flesh could be glimpsed through the torn fabric.

Hilda noted none of the other creatures have moved, only the one commanded by the shaman to, hm, what’s the verb for removing all of someone’s limbs. Hilda shook her head. Now was not the best time to consider matters of vocabulary.

The lizardman walked purposefully in her direction. It didn’t charge mindlessly, hissing like a pricked balloon and waving its weapon around like it was fighting invisible bees. It was calm, focused and professional. Like a paladin, but with more baby skulls.

Was this thing really going to attack her? Perhaps this was a test of some sort. But a test of what? What quality would these revolting reptiles value in a business partner? What should she do to impress them? Screw that. What should she do to avoid a prolonged and agonizing demise? Try to stare it down? Apologize? Stand her ground? Fight an honorable duel? Use magic? Not use magic?

“What should I do?” the ghoul repeated, dancing as if the floor was on fire.

“If it looks like I’m going to lose,” Hilda said as she started toward the armored goliath lumbering towards her, “just kill me quickly.”