If I strained my vision, I could just make out where our ambushers had hidden: a raised platform attached to the wall about thirty feet from us, nearly hidden in the darkness. Two trolls stood there, looking smug, ugly, and hungry. They were both massive, at least eight feet tall, covered in shaggy hair, and wearing loose pants and shirts. Their beady eyes sat above large flared nostrils, and both had matching tattoos of eyeballs in the center of their foreheads. One of them was holding a large rock, tossing it up and down gently as he watched us.

  “Come on over here, dumdums! Belly n’ Big Toe wanna give you some treasure, haha! Ain’t that right, Belly?” The troll holding the rock spoke confidently, his faith in his own deception abilities highly overestimated. The other began to scramble down from his perch, his lumbering movements clumsy. To my right, Keggr was shaking—I wasn’t sure if it was fear or rage. Wait, no, it was rage. Jaw clenched, face flushed, cursing me under his breath. Yup, rage alright.

  ‘Excuse us, Misters Belly and Big Toe, but we seem to have gotten lost. If you two would be so kind as to point us in the right direction, we’ll be getting out of your chest hair…’ The two trolls laughed uproariously at my suggestion.

  “Didn’t know dey had a talkin’ trashcan too? Big Toe, did you smell a talkin’ trashcan?” the one called Belly asked as he reached the floor and began to approach. Big Toe stopped tossing his rock for a second as he considered.

  “Nuh-uh. Thought one of ‘em was in armor, smellin’ all steel-like like dat. Dis better though, right? No tough bits when chewin’.”

  “Good thinkin’, Big Toe! Dats’ why da boss likes ya, ya gots good ideas n’ thoughts!” Noticing that Keggr and Mug were all fleshy bits didn’t seem that observant to me, but I had to admit I was ignorant of troll culture.

  ‘Please, gentlemen! Why all this talk of chewing? We’re just some lost travelers looking to find our way back to the surface—and we’re willing to pay any handsome gentlemen that could assist us handsomely for any help offered!’ It was a long shot, but it was all I had. One thing I did know about trolls is that they had a penchant for regeneration. Mug and I were a capable team, but I didn’t know if we had the DPS to take down two regenerating, freakishly strong monsters looking for new organs to taste. Big Toe waved me off.

  “Nuh-uh. Only people hwat comes here is sneakin’ around like sneaky gits. Only sneaky gits comin’ this way trying to find our top-secret tunnels that’s just for us Eyeballs. Dat means you three came down here tryin’ to find our secret tunnels to steal from our secret treasures, or somethin’ else sneaky. That means… well, Belly can tell you what that means.”

  “It means dat you three is our guests of honor at our next dinner, haha! Now, come a lil’ closer for ol’ Belly so I can give you da guest treatment, haha!” Belly was almost on us, only a few of his massive strides away. This had gone south fast; it was time for action.

  Time dilated as I took in our situation. Keggr was thoroughly a noncombatant, so any help from him was out. Mug would probably fight, but even armed, I didn’t like his chances against the brute in front of us. Fire was the well-known counter to troll regeneration, but I couldn’t make fire with any of my abilities… an idea hit me like a rock hurled by an eight-foot-tall monster striking a wall.

  ‘Keggr, when I say the word, throw your cigar at the troll, and Mug, get ready to run,’ I whispered into Mug’s Earring of Messaging. I knew that Keggr’s fine hearing would be able to pick up my voice even if it was a mostly inaudible psychic transmission. Keggr took a long puff of his cigar, then whispered back.

  “Ye better have a damn good idea, trashcan.” Well, I wouldn’t call it a damn good idea, but it was definitely an idea, at least. In my time as a trashcan, I had accumulated a long list of junk I could remake with Alchemical Recycling. Most of it was, well, useless garbage, but even then, useless garbage could be useful in the right situation. Today’s repurposed trash-to-treasure? An oily rag, compliments of the kobolds.

  Belly took the final step towards us, massive hands open and grasping at Mug, who was standing still, waiting for my signal. I felt the heat of mana inside me as I activated Recycling, shooting a large rag with extra oil onto the troll. ‘Rag’ might be an understatement; I sent something closer to a queen-size sheet soaked in motor oil over Belly, causing him to stumble and flail wildly, his massive fist missing Mug’s head by inches.

  ‘Keggr, now!’ I yelled, but I needn’t have worried. Keggr was already throwing his lit cigar at the sheet like a dart, the burning ember pointed at the troll. It made contact, and for a second I thought that I had been mistaken; maybe the oil wasn’t flammable, or perhaps the cigar's cherry wasn't hot enough to light it, or hell, maybe the blind dwarf just missed his throw.

  Before I could begin to doubt my admittedly risky plan, however, I was rewarded with a spurt of flame that quickly lit the entire sheet, as well as the troll tangled underneath. Belly roared and fell backward, beating and tearing at the burning veil covering him, tripping over his own legs and falling backward.

  “BELLY!” cried Big Toe, letting his rock fly in my direction. I used Telekinesis, hoping to yank the projectile out of the air—but it was moving with such force all I could do was slow it slightly. It struck my center with a loud clang, driving me back into the wall and denting my steel.

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  -14 HP WARNING: CURRENT HEALTH BELOW 50% CURRENT HP: 41/85

  14 damage, and that was after I had slowed the projectile. Not only that, but I could tell that it had taken a lot of mana to slow it down; it seemed velocity also affected Telekinesis usage the same way weight did in terms of mana cost. Not great, but it would have to do.

  I gathered my mana again inside me, this time Recycling a long length of chain that I hurled at Big Toe with Telekinesis. It wrapped around his hand, then I used Telekinesis to wrap it further, tangling his long legs as thoroughly as I could. I was sure he could probably just break the chain, but it seemed being the brightest troll was a lot like being the fastest turtle; instead of ignoring it, he began to try to untangle himself, roaring in frustration. I sent him another length of chain as well, then one more just to be sure, making sure to tangle him as haphazardly as possible.

  Before he could get his footing, I activated my newly acquired Golemancy to create a two-foot-tall bipedal golem, giving it arms twice as long as its legs. I Recycled another oily rag, this one about as large as a towel, and floated it into the golem's open, comically large arms.

  ‘Go give that guy a hug! Make sure you step over this one first though!’ It bowed once solemnly then ran towards Big Toe, stepping over the flaming Belly and igniting its held rag, turning it into a mobile Molotov.

  WARNING: CURRENT MANA BELOW 50% CURRENT MANA: 185/500

  That was our cue to run. Without any further ado, I scooped Mug and Keggr into my body with Telekinesis and went into my spider form, sprinting away as fast as my spindly legs would take me. I could hear cursing coming from inside me as I ran and the two were slammed into one another.

  “Master Lugenhelm! It seems that Mr. Keggr was right!” called Mug helpfully. What could I say, he was a master of observation. Before I could point this out, Keggr managed to get himself upright and bang on my side.

  “Ye damn right I’m right! I’m always right! Go back to that damn wall and listen this time, ye ninny!” I didn’t waste time formulating a response. I didn’t know how fast trolls could run, but I wasn’t keen on learning today.

  Soon, the howls of pain and roars of anger faded into the background, and the only sound was my metallic legs pinging off the concrete and Keggr’s cursing. I doubted I had killed Belly and Big Toe, but I had probably slowed them down, which was more than enough.

  Since I was moving at a dead sprint, we found ourselves back at the contested wall within thirty minutes. Keggr hopped out and moved closer to the wall, feeling it with his rough hands, sometimes smelling it, and occasionally also extending the tip of his tongue to taste it. I wonder if other dwarves were also this way about rocks, or if this was just a Keggr thing? I made a note to ask the next dwarf I met to taste some basalt and judge the reaction.

  After a few minutes, he triumphantly shouted and poked his stubby finger at a spot in the wall that looked to me like every other part of the wall.

  “Right here, lad! I don’t know how I missed it before—probably you two dimwits rubbing off on me! But look, right here, don’t ya see?” I didn’t, so I stayed quiet. Keggr sighed the sigh of someone forced to interact with only the dimmest of wits.

  “Look, lad, look! Can’t ye tell? This area, starting from right here—it’s all new construction! Aye, they did decent enough work hiding the patch line, but it’s there, plain as horns on a minotaur!” I strained my vision as hard as I could, and I could just faintly pick out a line that started on the floor and went up, exactly as big around as one of the hallways and openings we had been traveling through. Keggr was still speaking, but it seemed mostly to himself.

  “Oh aye, very clever work. Musta used a dwarf for the work, otherwise even amateurs like you could spot it. When you taste it, it’s even more obvious; most of these walls are thousands of years old and taste the same, but this section can’t be more than four! They used old materials to hide it, but a hreidmarr can tell! A true son of the Earth King always knows!” Well, at least getting to taste new rocks had lifted his spirits.

  I Recycled a large hammer for Mug, taking a step back.

  ‘Well, you heard the dwarf, Mug. Give us an opening, if you don’t mind.’ Mug nodded, and after Keggr had reluctantly stepped away (it seemed he wanted to spend more time admiring the handiwork), he stepped up to the wall, the tip of his tongue thoughtfully placed between his lips.

  He hefted the hammer, took a few warm-up swings, then reared back and struck the stone—and promptly bounced off the solid concrete. He looked at the hammer, confused, as Keggr and I stood behind him.

  “Er… ya think your goblin pal needs a hand? I do demo work too, natch,” he offered apologetically. I wanted to take him up on that, but then thought better of it. Mug was an orc; smashing through brick walls with blunt force was practically required learning from what I knew.

  ‘Mug! Stop thinking like a goblin! Hit it like an orc! Even if you think you are a goblin, when you hit that wall, think you’re hitting it like an orc! Got it?’ Mug nodded glumly.

  “Master Lugenhelm, I just want to say that even though I am definitely a goblin, I will do my best to hit this like I would as an orc. Please do not be too disappointed if I can only do it as a goblin. Master Edv—Little Ed, who is a weenie, said that even though I am strong for a goblin, I am still undoubtedly a goblin—wretched, weak, stinky, kind of funny looking, bad bre—”

  ‘Little Ed can kiss my rusty metal ass! Stop giving me excuses and hit that damn wall like an orc! That’s an order!’ The force of my words hit him so hard he literally jumped into a salute before stiffly turning and holding the hammer. This time, however, it felt different. His body language was tight and tensed; his back muscles were flexed, and as I stood there, he seemed to widen in front of my eyes.

  He took a lunging step and rotated his hips as he took a giant swing, crushing through the wall with such force he spun all the way around. Just as quickly as it came, it went, and he was right back to being Mug. Well, this current five-foot-five version of Mug, not the Mug classic three-foot servant.

  Keggr let out a large sigh of relief, which shocked me because I didn’t realize he had been holding his breath.

  ‘Keggr, why so relieved? Do you think the trolls are close by or something?’ He shook his head vigorously, blind eyes wide.

  “No, not at all. I just wasn’t sure if breaking that wall was gonna bring the whole damn place down on us.”

  The irony was so thick you could have spread it on toast.