steel tear leather and flesh.
She felt a blood-slicked hand reach out and push her backward. Eastwood filled the doorway, pressed on all sides. His coat turned aside some of the blows, but not nearly enough. Ree grabbed the geek by the collar as she felt something pulling her back, and the three of them toppled onto the cold concrete floor of Grognard’s. She saw another spectral hand slam the door closed, breaking bones and severing limbs in a very un-cartoon-y fashion.
“Holy shit!” Ree said, the lack of immediate mortal danger reminding her just how many times she’d been stabbed, cut, and bludgeoned.
And they said I hit the healing limit last time. That’s just fucking great.
Grognard was there, with glasses of water and his medical kit. She assumed Drake was still with the brew, working on their Hail Mary.
Eastwood did his best to brace the door while Grognard bandaged wounds with the rapidity of an EMT on speed.
“Were you a medic or something?” Ree asked as her boss tore off part of her pants to get at the wound along her shin. He washed the muck and blood out, then glopped so much antiseptic on it that Ree nearly shot straight up in the air.
“Something. You can wrap the arm yourself. And keep your head elevated.”
“How’s the beer bomb?” Ree asked, but Grognard had already moved on. Chandra and Talon were unresponsive, but looked like they were still breathing.
“Not ready,” Eastwood said.
Ree looked at the door, where Eastwood was as much leaning on the door for support as bracing it against the hordes.
“Where did she get all of these things?” Ree asked.
“Lucretia has been at this for quite a while. Anyone who’s been in the game keeps some resources back. But I didn’t expect that she’d go this far, not for something that she frakking stole from me in the first place!”
Chapter Nine
Once More, with Feeling
A hundred fists hammered at the sturdy wood of the thick front door at Grognard’s Grog and Games. Ree pressed her back against the door, her boots sliding on the smooth floor of the concrete, failing to find a good grip. The shop was a total wreck—games, cards, figures, and props scattered everywhere, drinks spilled across the bar, tables upended and shattered. Ree wanted to think that the gnomes couldn’t make it much worse, but the “getting eaten alive” part banished that thought pretty fast.
“What the fuck has gotten into those little guys?” Ree asked. Pearson’s sewer gnomes were already more like ghouls than the helpful creatures in David the Gnome or the curious childlike tinkerers from D&D , but this was a whole new level of rabid.
Eastwood stood beside her, leaning into the door with one shoulder, cuts and bruises scored across his face and hands.
“Don’t know, but we can’t hold out long like this. And if they get in, we’re bantha pudu .”
Ree could feel the scraping and scratching at the door, then a louder thud .
That was no gnome. Ree took a millisecond to consider what else might be out there, but it didn’t really matter, since it probably wanted them dead just as much as the tiny creatures.
“How we doing back there?” Ree shouted to the back room.
“A short while longer, sad to say!” Drake answered, his voice hoarse.
Ree cursed under her breath. “We’re not made of time out here. Either the gnomes have made themselves a battering ram, or there’s a cave Troll out there!”
“It wouldn’t be a cave Troll. They hate the smell down here. Sewer Troll, maybe,” Eastwood said.
“Thanks, Mr. Monster Manual,” Ree said, short temper unleashing the full power of her snark. “How does this help us not get dead?”
Beat.
“It doesn’t,” Eastwood admitted.
“Then I don’t need to know. Hurry up, guys!” Ree shouted again.
Eastwood nudged her. “Get to a weapon. I’ve got this.”
“That’s idiotic. The door will cave in as soon as I move.”
“Trust me. We need to be ready.”
“I trust you, but
She felt a blood-slicked hand reach out and push her backward. Eastwood filled the doorway, pressed on all sides. His coat turned aside some of the blows, but not nearly enough. Ree grabbed the geek by the collar as she felt something pulling her back, and the three of them toppled onto the cold concrete floor of Grognard’s. She saw another spectral hand slam the door closed, breaking bones and severing limbs in a very un-cartoon-y fashion.
“Holy shit!” Ree said, the lack of immediate mortal danger reminding her just how many times she’d been stabbed, cut, and bludgeoned.
And they said I hit the healing limit last time. That’s just fucking great.
Grognard was there, with glasses of water and his medical kit. She assumed Drake was still with the brew, working on their Hail Mary.
Eastwood did his best to brace the door while Grognard bandaged wounds with the rapidity of an EMT on speed.
“Were you a medic or something?” Ree asked as her boss tore off part of her pants to get at the wound along her shin. He washed the muck and blood out, then glopped so much antiseptic on it that Ree nearly shot straight up in the air.
“Something. You can wrap the arm yourself. And keep your head elevated.”
“How’s the beer bomb?” Ree asked, but Grognard had already moved on. Chandra and Talon were unresponsive, but looked like they were still breathing.
“Not ready,” Eastwood said.
Ree looked at the door, where Eastwood was as much leaning on the door for support as bracing it against the hordes.
“Where did she get all of these things?” Ree asked.
“Lucretia has been at this for quite a while. Anyone who’s been in the game keeps some resources back. But I didn’t expect that she’d go this far, not for something that she frakking stole from me in the first place!”
Chapter Nine
Once More, with Feeling
A hundred fists hammered at the sturdy wood of the thick front door at Grognard’s Grog and Games. Ree pressed her back against the door, her boots sliding on the smooth floor of the concrete, failing to find a good grip. The shop was a total wreck—games, cards, figures, and props scattered everywhere, drinks spilled across the bar, tables upended and shattered. Ree wanted to think that the gnomes couldn’t make it much worse, but the “getting eaten alive” part banished that thought pretty fast.
“What the fuck has gotten into those little guys?” Ree asked. Pearson’s sewer gnomes were already more like ghouls than the helpful creatures in David the Gnome or the curious childlike tinkerers from D&D , but this was a whole new level of rabid.
Eastwood stood beside her, leaning into the door with one shoulder, cuts and bruises scored across his face and hands.
“Don’t know, but we can’t hold out long like this. And if they get in, we’re bantha pudu .”
Ree could feel the scraping and scratching at the door, then a louder thud .
That was no gnome. Ree took a millisecond to consider what else might be out there, but it didn’t really matter, since it probably wanted them dead just as much as the tiny creatures.
“How we doing back there?” Ree shouted to the back room.
“A short while longer, sad to say!” Drake answered, his voice hoarse.
Ree cursed under her breath. “We’re not made of time out here. Either the gnomes have made themselves a battering ram, or there’s a cave Troll out there!”
“It wouldn’t be a cave Troll. They hate the smell down here. Sewer Troll, maybe,” Eastwood said.
“Thanks, Mr. Monster Manual,” Ree said, short temper unleashing the full power of her snark. “How does this help us not get dead?”
Beat.
“It doesn’t,” Eastwood admitted.
“Then I don’t need to know. Hurry up, guys!” Ree shouted again.
Eastwood nudged her. “Get to a weapon. I’ve got this.”
“That’s idiotic. The door will cave in as soon as I move.”
“Trust me. We need to be ready.”
“I trust you, but
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