“I didn’t come to fight,” Hilda said, hoping that casting Blessing of the Moon on herself while edging toward the creature with her shield and hammer raised high didn’t mix the signal.

“Fighting…” the thing whispered. “Doesn’t require mutual consent.” Require? Consent? What kind of lizardmen are they? Next he’d be quoting philosophical tractats on the rights of sentients in subterranean states…

“Well, yes, but--” The lizardman ripped one of the cracked skulls from its necklace and presented it. Hilda stopped talking, because this is what you do when someone shoves a baby skull in your face.

“Chiadash te forsit loesh ah,” it spoke in Infernal. “Lesh she ha!” It squeezed its massive paw, crushing the tiny skull to dust. Small flames escaped from between the monster’s claws as if the tiny cranium was filled with fire.

Okay, so Infernal is like Celestial in reverse. Maybe this was the test. Hilda actually did pass her Celestial exam, mostly because she copied her homework from a friend, but she did attend all classes, mostly because she really liked that friend. So, “lesh” meant “of” and “loesh” was a location in Hell, which means… Hm. Hilda was sweating profusely. At first she thought it was due to concentration, but no. The cave was getting hotter. Hotter… like hell?

She looked at the lizardman. The creature just stood there, leaning on its great halberd and showing its serrated teeth to the dwarf. Even from this distance, she could sense the foulness of its breath. Hilda assumed this was the reptilian version of a grin.

Hilda looked over her shoulder to assess the effect of the heat on her companions. Both women seemed perfectly comfortable with the temperature. Philly was biting her nails, her eyes wide with concern. Mina was sitting on a petrified mushroom, writing something in a small ledger she balanced on her knees. She noticed Hilda looking at her and scowled in return.

It was very hot now. Painfully, blazingly hot. Hilda took 10 points of fire damage. Shit! The cave wasn’t getting warmer. Her armor was. If it kept increasing in temperature, she’d be cooked alive in less than a minute. However, if she removed her armor, there would be nothing between her flesh and the lizardman’s claws and fangs and steel. Two or three strikes and she’d be a dwarf-themed jigsaw puzzle.

Hilda could run away in the hope of finding a body of water large enough to fully submerge in… but would it be enough to absorb all the heat from her armor? More importantly, could she outrun the great reptilian? Even with her armor, several lucky blows and she’d be minced as well as cooked. Besides, weren’t lizardmen deadlier underwater?

“Why are you doing this!” Hilda cried, pain turning her demand into a plea. All she wanted was to earn some gold as a legitimate businesswoman. Why did she keep getting hurt all the time?

The creature just stared at her, its small, yellow eyes devoid of expression. Of course, it had no reason to hurry. The longer it postponed the fight, the easier its victory would be. If it waited long enough, the dwarf would just faint… but fighting didn’t require mutual consent.

Hilda charged, converting her pain and frustration into courage. The thing definitely had reach, so it’d have the opportunity to attack her before she reached it. Nothing to do but endure.

9 more points of fire damage. Hilda felt the unpadded parts of her body blistering under the broiling metal. She was close to half her hit points, but she wasn’t quite there yet.

When she was a few meters away from the creature it swung its mighty halberd, aiming for her neck. Hilda parried with her shield. The blow was staggering, leaving Hilda’s arm numb and her shoulder aching. The pain of the hit was magnified by the friction of blistered skin against rough cloth and metal. However, it’d caused no additional damage.

The thing hissed, shooting forth a cloud of poisonous gas. It could as well have farted in her direction for all the effect the noxious fume had on the resistant paladin.

As it swung its halberd for a second blow, Hilda cast Meteoric Smite on her armor. The creature had time to frown at the strange application of the spell before Hilda pushed herself off the ground and smashed into the middle of its chest like, well, like a meteorite. Despite the monster easily weighing four times her weight, the impact of the blow threw it off its feet with the dwarf latched onto it like a crab. As the lizardman fell, Hilda climbed higher, her legs now wrapped around its neck and her arms around its head. Embracing her foe like she’d only embraced Gloin before, Hilda squeezed with all her strength, making sure that as many of her armored parts were pressed against the creature’s exposed scales.

This trick inflicted 10 points of radiant damage on the dwarf. How ironic, a paladin of the moon harmed by the holy power of the cosmos. However, judging by the creature’s hollow roars, it suffered far more damage than she did: radiant damage from Hilda’s spell, fire damage from its own spell, and bludgeoning damage from a breastplate crashing into its snout at meteoric speed.

Now, time didn’t work against her. As long as she wrestled with the monster, they both shared in the agony of fire. Better yet, at such close quarters, its helberd was useless and its fierce natural weapons -- its claws and fangs -- would inflict as much fire damage on the attacker as they would on the defender.

The creature tried to bite her, but its fangs only dented her helmet. It hissed in agony as its tongue touched the heated metal surface. It clawed at her, finding an opening in her armor and causing 5 points of damage. Judging by its thrashing, however, it’d inflicted no less damage on itself. The smell of boiling blood was nauseating, but the spice of her enemy’s suffering made it palatable.

Unable to use her own weapon at such a short range, Hilda ripped off her helmet and, casting a second level meteoric smite on it, crammed it into the monster’s maw. You want it? Take it! Just be careful! I’m a spicy dish.

The impact was so loud that, for a moment, all sounds of battle were drowned by tinny ringing. The resulting explosion filled the dwarf’s field of vision with sparks, scales and fragments of teeth flying every which way. The helmet was blackened, but otherwise unharmed. Dwarven workmanship. You can’t beat it. I mean, you can beat it, you probably will beat it, but it won’t do you much good, because it’s so fine.

The creature thrashed and roared as it tried to peel the dwarf off its face. Still, Hilda held with all her might, leaving it deaf and blind and barely able to breathe. The lizardman grabbed her by the neck and instantly released its hold as hot metal burned its paw.

Hilda at least had some layers of padding between her and the metal. Her enemy had to touch red hot steel with nothing to protect it. Hilda used the momentum to uplift herself, squeezing her powerful thighs around her enemy’s temples as if its head was a nut that she was trying to bust. Its face was in her crotch and her crotch was on fire. Literally. Luckily for the dwarf, this was also the most padded region of her body, so the heated metal caused the least amount of damage there.

The creature’s frantically searching paw found a nearby stalagmite and it tried to pull itself to an upfront position. Thrusting with all her might, Hilda caused the creature to stagger, slip, and lose its footing. As both she and the lizardman neared the rocky floor, Hilda considered casting meteoric smite on her cuisses… but even she wasn’t crazy enough to explode a meteor between her thighs. More importantly, she felt the heat subsiding. Apparently, the damn croc had enough of its own medicine. The creature’s head hit the floor with the added weight of a fully armored dwarf on top of its face.

It groaned then tried to speak, but its speech was muffled by the dwarf stuck in its mouth. Hilda noted that it was no longer struggling. She figured she’d won. Remembering she was there to do business, not war, she decided to spare the monster. After all, unlike fighting, peace did require mutual consent. That’s why there was so little of it.

Casting lunar step on herself, Hilda jumped off the monster and landed on a ledge several meters above the ground. She shared the small, natural platform with a petrified werecrow in its hybrid form. It aimed a crossbow at the darkness below and had the kind of expression that said “got it!” Hilda hoped she’d fare better than the avian sharpshooter.

The beaten lizardman scrambled to its feet. It looked as well as Hilda felt. As the thing struggled to get up from the slippery floor, Hilda cast a second level Heal Wounds on herself. 14 hit points. Ah… a lot better. One more healing and her ordeal would be no more traumatic than a walk on the beach without sunscreen. However, she decided to keep a few spell slots in reserve. Who knew what the crazy shaman would think of next?

While the beaten and blinded monster stumbled back to its party, Philly cried, “well done, Hilly!” and punched the air, drawing annoyed glances from everyone in the cave.

“Well done little dwarf,” the pale shaman said in a voice like a shrine on fire with holy men locked inside. Hilda could actually hear the echoes of their screams and pleas coming from the hideous mouth. Once again, she wondered if this was really someone she could do business with. Mina promised the nature of the transaction was perfectly innocuous. Hilda doubted anything related to this hellish behemoth was innocent.

Ignoring her consternation, the shaman went on. “You have proven yourself worthy of commission. Listen now,” He pushed before him a pale humanoid with the eyes and fangs of a serpent. The creature was dressed in a black suit and carried a leather suitcase with sharp metal corners. The pale man looked bemused, as if not sure how he got here all of a sudden.

“Speak,” the shaman hissed with the voice of blood spraying from a slit throat.

The newcomer bowed his head and smiled at the dwarf. His smile was ironic and condescending. Luckily, Hilda wasted all her anger on the lizardman warrior who tried to boil her inside her armor. Now she just wanted to go back home and have a long, cold bath in the company of strange seaweeds and albino crabs.

“What kind of a creature are you?” Philly asked as she deftly hopped and climbed to stand beside the battered dwarf. Somehow, she managed to accomplish this feat without damaging her fancy dress.

The creature cleared his throat and answered in a surprisingly soft and pleasant voice. “I’m a lawyer.” Then he added with a wry smile. “For my sins.”

He placed his suitcase on a waist-high petrified mushroom and tapped on it with both his hands. They were the best manicured hands Hilda had ever seen. “Now, if you could oblige me by getting down to my level, so to speak,” he smiled again. A forked tongue shot from between his bloodless lips. “I could present to you the gist of the transaction, negotiations would follow, and we shall all be merrily on our way.”