Stone. Stone roughly hewn and mortared by some longforgotten
hand, forms a wall. Another wall, possibly fashioned by
the same hand, follows parallel, barely a shoulder’s width away. A
low ceiling bears down from above. Underfoot a loathsome slime
collects in nauseous pools.

Darkness. Darkness so total it nearly gains physical substance.
The air is heavy with the dank odor of rotting fungus and
decaying wood. A massive beam gives a low, agonized groan as
mere mortal handiwork gives to the relentless press of time.

Silence. Silence broken only by the faint echo of water dripping
into some subterranean pool.

Suddenly a spark of light glimmers in the distance. The
spark grows as the light feeds on the darkness. Sounds — out of
place in the death-like stillness of the corridor — echo ahead of
the light: the muted chink of mail beneath leather, an occasional
metallic scrape of iron against stone, and the sound of regular but
labored breathing.

And a voice. A voice epitomizing exhaustion and despair. A
cry shrieking through the dank atmosphere, battering the stone
of the passageway, and knifing away into the blackness.

“Damn it, Ralph! I told you we should have turned right at
that last intersection?”

* * * 

The small band was three in number: Dimwit the dwarf,
’Lumbo the elf, and Ralphedelonamious (Ralph) the wizard.
Ralph raised his hand and the party halted as the aged mage
peered into the darkness ahead.

“Well, aged mage, this is another screw-up for the ol’ record
book,” observed Dimwit as he unslung his pack. “Oh yeah, a
right turn, a flight of stairs, and we’re back on the surface.
Right!” The dwarf kicked his pack disgustedly.

The wizard walked ahead a few steps. “The ways have
changed since last I traveled these passages,” observed the
old magic-user as he stopped beside a pile of rubble and several
black and white striped barricades with flashing orange lights
bearing the legend Greyhawk Construction Co., Ltd.

“Oh, wow, man, let’s take five and hassle this out,” said
’Lumbo as he filled his pipe with leaf. “Anybody got a . . . ahh . . .
light?”
 

“A council at this point would be wise,” agreed Dimwit,
producing a Zippo for ’Lumbo and a six-pack for himself.

“This is true,” agreed the wizard. “I, for one, say we should
proceed ahead and seek a new path of escape from these dreaded
mines. What say you, O Master Dwarf?”

“I say pound leather back the way we came,” responded
Dimwit, tossing down a beer in one gulp. “What about you, Lumbo?”

“Ah, . . . how ‘bout sending out for a . . . uhh . . . giant anchovie
pizza?” asked the elf, loading another bowl.

Dimwit chucked his empty beer can in ’Lumbo’s direction.
The can missed its intended target and rolled noisily into the
blackness behind them. “Cease thy childish play, Dimwit. Who
knows what fell beasts lurk in these shadows,” cautioned Ralph.
No sooner than the words were out of the wizard’s mouth than a
rather large reptilian beast with the words “ECOLOGY NOW”
written on its chest, lumbered into the light, crunching noisily on
Dimwit’s beer can.

“Hell’s bells,” cried Dimwit, “a Recyclesaurous!”

“Flee!” advised the old wizard, pulling on a pair of track
shoes.

“Right behind you, boss,” yelled back Dimwit, already 20
yards down the corridor.

“I’m on the road again,” sang ’Lumbo, shuffling after the
now distant pair.

* * *

With much huffing and puffing, Ralph and Dimwit slowed
to a stop at a widening of the passageway.

“Thou art certainly fleet of foot, Bearded One,” gasped
Ralph as the pair sank to the floor to rest.

“Ran the mile in 3:58 in the NCAA regional before I got into
the dungeon exploration business,” admitted Dimwit modestly.
“Hey, look!” exclaimed the dwarf, “there’s a door in the wall,
here!” Indeed, a large iron-studded oak door was set into the wall
just ahead. “Let’s check out what’s on the other side. Maybe it’s a
way outta this hole.” The dwarf eagerly jumped to his feet and
tried the massive, rusty latch. “Shucks, it won’t open,” said the
dwarf as the latch refused to give, and started beating against the
door with his shoulder.

“Hold, Dimwit!” commanded the wizard, “this portal is inscribed
with runes that bode of ill and dark danger.” The wizard
held his torch closer to illuminate a “Wallace for President”
bumper sticker. “Perhaps this doorway is best left unpassed.

“Wow, man, what’s happening?” came a voice from behind.

Ralph and Dimwit spun around, weapons ready. It was
’Lumbo.

“’Lumbo, where the hell you been?” questioned Dimwit.

“Jus’ diggin’ on the rocks, man. You should see it, there’re
some really far-out green ones back there,” said ’Lumbo, jerking
his thumb over his shoulder.

“I think the rocks are in your head,” muttered Dimwit.
“Anyway, we’re trying to get this door open, but it’s locked.”

“Well, why didn’t you jus’ say so, man? Here,” said ’Lumbo,
extracting a Master Charge card from his wallet, “allow me.”
The elf deftly slipped the plastic card between the door jamb and
frame and slid it past the latch. The lock gave a loud “snick” and
the door swung open easily.

“It’s disgusting that you should know how to do something
like that,” criticized Dimwit.

“Tricks of the trade,” shrugged ’Lumbo.

With ’Lumbo in the lead, the intrepid trio cautiously edged
their way into the chamber beyond the door. “Hey, Ralph,”
called ’Lumbo, “like, these torches don’t give off too much light,
you know? How ‘bout wavin’ your wand a bit or somethin’?”

“The great arts of my order were not meant for such, mundane
use,” grumbled the old mage.

“O.K., man, you take the lead!”

The wizard quickly held his staff aloft and chanted an ancient
formula. “Omygoshmygollyhubbahubbagygax.” Ralph
made a motion with his staff.

The party’s torches all went out.

“Jeez, some wizard,” groaned Dimwit.

“Fear not, short stuff,” countered the miffed wizard. “This
artifact I have been carrying in my pack these many miles shall
solve our problem.” The wizard produced a curious device and
set it on the chamber floor. “T’was created in an age long past by
the peoples of the land of Eveready.” The wizard touched a button
at the top of the device and instantly the room was
illuminated by a 1000 watt searchlight.

“Behold!” exclaimed the wizard.

“Such magic,” observed Dimwit’s awed voice.

“Heavy,” agreed ’Lumbo.

The now brightly lit room revealed a splendor seldom seen 
outside the palaces of kings or west coast discos.  The floor was 
made of gold veined marble, the beams in the ceiling were carved 
from rare woods, and rich tapestries hung from the walls.  In the 
center of the room was a gold pedestal, upon which rested an 
elborately engraved onyx box. 

The group approached the dais slowly, marveling at the 
enigmatic black container. 

“I cannot help but marvel at this enigmatic black container,”
said Ralph.

“Looks like a stash box, to me,” observed ’Lumbo.

"Obviously it holds a treasure of great value," added Dimwit, 
reaching for the box. 

“That’s what I said,” replied ’Lumbo.

“Hold!” commanded Ralph, whacking Dimwit’s outstretched
hand with his staff. “I have heard mention of this
curious thing in some of the ancient lays. The tale is long in
telling . . . ”

“So skip it,” mumbled Dimwit, massaging his hand.

“ . . . but contains a warning worth hearing,” finished the
wizard, shooting a glance at Dimwit, that, if looks could kill,
would have turned him into a basket case.

“Alright, already,” grumbled the dwarf, “get on with it.”

The wizard waved his hand, produced a Barcalounger, and
sat down. Another hand wave produced a tequila sunrise, and the
old wizard settled back to tell his tale.
 

“Long ago, when this world was still forming, there existed a
race of beings much more advanced in the use of the powers of
the universe than we.”

“Wouldn’t be hard,” interjected Dimwit under his breath.

Ralph ignored the interruption and continued. “During this
time, the Chutzpa, as they were known, forged the Great Dingus
of Power. They used the Dingus for all their great works, and it
sustained their very existence for eons. Then, in some fashion not
told in the lays, the Dingus was lost, and the civilization of the
Chutzpanians was no more. It is said that he who once again
holds the Dingus shall inherit the power of the Chutzpa and rule
the world in their place.”

“So what’s the problem? I could get off on being a world
ruler,” said Dimwit.
 

“So what’s the problem? I could get off on being a world
ruler,” said Dimwit.
The old wizard stirred his drink and continued. “The Dingus
was eventually discovered by a common peasant who used its
powers to make himself the person we now call King Glub VIII.
Determined not to let anyone else capitalize on his good fortune,
Glub had the Dingus hidden away in the lowest level of his castle
dungeon with many traps and protective devices to guard the way.
The key to the first door of the Great Vault where the Dingus was
kept was placed in an onyx box such as the one we see here.
However, the key was inlaid with a spell of great power to protect
it from the touch of anyone but Glub. The lays are vague on this
point, but it is believed that either the person touching the key
will turn to dust or have a sudden craving for pistachio ice cream.
That is why we must proceed with extreme caution,” said the
wizard as he finished his tale and his drink at the same time.

“Hey fellas, look at this!” exclaimed ’Lumbo. While Ralph
had been relating his tale to Dimwit, ’Lumbo had opened the box
and pulled out a curiously shaped key on a gold chain. “What a
neat pendant!” Before Ralph or Dimwit could shout a warning,
’Lumbo hung the key around his neck. “Wow, what a rush!
Anybody got any pistachio ice cream?”

Dimwit and Ralph exchanged knowing glances and started
towards ’Lumbo. Suddenly, however, several previously unnoticed
panels in the walls slid open and a hoard of dark figures
emerged, swinging half empty bottles and singing off-colored
limerics.

“Aieeee!” cried Dimwit, “winos!”

“Flee, before we are ‘spare changed’ to death,” warned the
wizard.

“What about my ice cream?” wailed ’Lumbo, as the winos, 
half-crazed on cheap muscatel, staggered closer.

***

Well, gentle readers, is this the end of the line for our fearsome 
threesome? Will they be able to escape the clutches of  the 
foul winos?  And what about Naomi?  Be sure and catch our 
heroes next issue in:  "Buddy can you spare a dime?"

SEARCH FOR THE FORBIDDEN CHAMBER
conclusion
by Jake Jaquet
 

-	-	-	-	-
Dungeons & Dragons	-	Dragon magazine	-	The Dragon #2

Synopsis: A small band of explorers, RALPHEDELONAMIOUS
(Ralph) THE WIZARD, DIMWIT the dwarf and ’LUMBO the elf
have become lost in the depths of an unexplored dungeon.
Fighting their way past several obstacles, including the dreaded
recyclesaurous, the trio happened upon a small onyx box containing
a curiously shaped gold key. Ralph related a tale to the
other two members of the party suggesting that the key may be
the key to the first door of the Great Vault of the ancient KING
GLUB VIII. According to the ancient lays, the vault contains the
great Golden Dingus of Power of the long-forgotten race known
as the Chutzpas. Just as Ralph completes his tale, ’Lumbo
removes the key from its resting place. ’Lumbo’s touch springs a
trap and several wall panels slide open, disgorging a horde of
half-blitzed winos.

* * *

“Quickly,” urged THE WIZARD, pushing open a large metal
door beneath a glowing electric “Exit” sign, “through here!”

Dimwit and ’Lumbo hurried through the offered escape and
Ralph followed on their heels, pulling the door shut behind them.
After the door had latched with an echoing clang, the trio noticed
there was no handle on their side.

“T’would appear the fates have urged us along a predestined
path,” mused Ralph.

“No kidding,” grumbled Dimwit, lighting a cigar, “but what
now?”

At that point, a sickly green gas issued from several small
openings in the stone walls and the trio fell to the floor, dead.

* * *

Editor’s note — After reading the first (and only) page of the
manuscript for the conclusion of Search for the Forbidden Chamber,
I was a bit disappointed with the rather sudden ending (not
to mention several column-inches of space still to be filled). A
quick consultation with the dice box (and three consecutive rolls
of “00”), several long-distance phone calls to Mssr. Jaquet and
some tricky juggling of printing schedules resulted in a more
satisfactory conclusion. Any allegations by Mssr. Jaquet concerning
brow-beating, blackmail and threats of physical violence
are completely false.

“Wha’ happened?” yawned ’Lumbo, pushing himself into a sitting
position as the last vestiges of the gas dissipated.

“Beats me,” said Dimwit thickly, shaking his head a few
times, “but see if you can get a rise out of Sleeping Beauty over
there.”

The elf gently nudged the prone figure of the old wizard, to
no avail. A more insistent shaking of the old mage’s shoulder also
produced no results.

“Oh, wow,” said ’Lumbo in a soft voice, “do you think he’s.
. .?” Just then the wizard emitted a loud snore and rolled over on
his side. Dimwit gave Ralph a disgusted kick in the posterior.

“Just ten more minutes, dear,” came Ralph’s sleep-fogged
voice.

Several more minutes of poking and prodding managed to
awaken the sleeping wizard and Dimwit repeated his question
that had been cut short by the sleep-gas earlier.

“Well, what now?”

The old magic-user looked in the direction of Dimwit’s
pointing cigar butt and noticed for the first time a staircase descending
to unknown depths and a large black spot on the floor
bearing the inscription “point of no return.”

“Since we have no other recourse, let us proceed,” the wizard
said slowly, “but let us be cautious and move with the utmost care
and stealth.”

“10-4,” said ’Lumbo swinging a leg over the stairway
banister. “Last one to the bottom is a rotten balrog!” he shouted
as he pushed off into space. Ralph and Dimwit exchanged pained
looks as they listened to ’Lumbo’s high-pitched giggles fade away
into the darkness and with a sigh of resignation, started down the
stairs.

* * *

“Long have been the years since last a human foot traced
this passage,” observed Ralph as every step raised a cloud of
choking dust.

“This is true,” coughed Dimwit as they rounded another
landing and still the stairs led downward. “But perhaps that is a
good omen, for . . .” Dimwit’s speech was interrupted as several
ten-foot steel bolts shot out from the walls, narrowly missing the
pair, “perhaps there are no traps to worry about,” he finished
lamely.

Ralph and Dimwit continued their descent, pausing only to
climb over some were-bear bones protruding from beneath a fiveton
block of stone that had obviously fallen from the ceiling, and
to ponder some enigmatic runes concerning someone known only
by the initials A.S. and a journey to the center of the earth. At last
the stairs ended. At the bottom the pair found fresh tracks that
could have been made only by ’Lumbo’s stumbling walk leading
off down a passageway.

The dwarf and wizard followed the tracks for a short distance
to a point where they ended in front of a massive wooden
door. Of ’Lumbo there was no trace.
 

“That puny person must have passed this portal previously,”
pondered the perplexed magician.

“Yeah, and the writer’s using too much alliteration, too,”
agreed Dimwit. “I suppose we have to open this bugger, too?”

“Either that or the story ends here,” said Ralph, much to the
editor’s horror.

The pair tried the door, but to no avail. Ralph spoke several
magical incantations, but still the door refused to open. Finally
Dimwit unshouldered his pack and shook the contents onto the
floor. Kicking aside a 2-iron and a fly-casting rod, the dwarf
finally came up with a four-foot wrecking bar. After fitting the
bar into place, the two heaved mightily and the door gave way
with a splintering crash. ’Lumbo’s tracks continued on the other
side and the pair followed them down the hall. The tracks ended
in front of yet another door.

“Here we go again,” muttered Dimwit as he retrieved his
crowbar.

“Hold, Dimwit,” cautioned the old mage. “Look at the lock.
Is not that the key that was found by Master Elf, still within the
keyhole? Methinks this sign may bode ill fate and a council of
opinions might. . .”

“How come you talk so funny?” interrupted Dimwit.

“Makes for good copy,” admitted the wizard. “At any rate,
it’s obvious the bad guys snatched ’Lumbo just as soon as he
opened the door. What ya think?”

“Got ya,” smiled Dimwit, pulling out his battle-axe and
kicking open the door. The pair had been ready for nearly
anything, but certainly not for the sight that greeted them behind
the door. In the center of the large chamber lay the bodies of
several horrible creatures, including a number of giant insects,
snakes, and other creepy-crawlies, two medium-sized dragons,
three life-insurance salesmen, a couple IRS investigators, and an
undercover narcotics agent. ’Lumbo sat leaning against a wall,
completely engrossed in a dog-eared copy of Playelf.

“’Lumbo!” shouted Dimwit, dropping his axe and hurrying
towards the elf. “What . . . how . . . when . . .?”

’Lumbo looked up from his magazine. “Oh, far-out! You
guys finally got here.” With a last glance at the magazine’s center-
fold and a sigh, the elf stood up and dusted off the seat of his
pants.

“But ’Lumbo!” cried Ralph. “How came you to defeat this
ghastly company in single combat?”

“Yeah,. . . uh, . . . well, first I pulled out my trusty ol’ sword
like this.” ’Lumbo drew forth his weapon, turned swiftly and tripped
over his scabbard. “Well, not jus’ exactly like that, but
anyway, . . . uh, where was I? Oh, yeah, well, as I pulled out my
sword, I decided to try to fool ‘em. I looked over my shoulder and
yelled, “Come on guys, let’s get ‘em! They didn’t believe it. Then I
told ‘em I was a 27th level magic-user and if they’d leave me
alone, I’d spare ‘em. They didn’t believe that, either. Then I
called the dragons illegitimate sons of sand lizards, told the IRS
guys I hadn’t paid taxes for ten years, said I wanted to buy
$25,000 worth of life insurance, and flashed my Legalize Pot button.
Then I turned off the lights and jumped outside. In the confusion,
with everyone trying to get me, I guess they tore each other
up, ’cause when I came back in, they’d all snuffed each other,
’cept for that cockroach over there in the corner,” ’Lumbo indicated
a dark spot on the floor with a wave of his pipe, “and I
squished it myself,” he finished proudly.

Ralph and Dimwit looked at each other in amazement,
partly in reaction to ’Lumbo’s tale and partly because it was the
longest coherent speech they had ever heard him make.

“At any rate,” ’Lumbo continued, “there’s a really neat
lookin’ door over there on the other side of the room. How’s about
a look-see?”

Indeed, on the other side of the chamber was a large bronze
door, now green with the tarnish of the ages.

“Green door, what’s that secret you’re keepin’?” sang ’Lumbo
as the trio approached the forboding portal. Ralph and Dimwit
gritted their teeth in frustration and fell to examining the
door.

“Say Dimwit,” asked Ralph from his knees, “why do we
always fall when we examine something?”

“Maybe you’re just clumsy,” offered a strange voice.

“What’s that?” exclaimed Dimwit.

“I’m a strange voice, didn’t you just read it?” came the answer.

“Boy, the acoustics in these dungeons are terrible,” mumbled
Dimwit. “I think I’m hearing things.”

“Hey, guys, look at this!” ’Lumbo was pointing to a small
white button set near the edge of the door. “I wonder what it
does?” asked. ’Lumbo to himself as he gave the button a poke.

“’Lumbo! Don’t!” cried Ralph and Dimwit.
Chimes sounded and reverberated throughout the dungeon.
Once, Twice. Three times. And with a loud groan, the door
opened before the three explorers.

Far out,” said ’Lumbo shuffling into the chamber beyond.

The room behind the door was a startling change from all
the three had seen thus far in their travels. All the walls, the floor
and even the ceiling were of polished metal. Light blazed from an
unseen source, gleaming off the metal and illuminating a single
pedestal in the center of the room.

The trio continued forward slowly, hands at their weapons,
and approached the pedestal. The block was smooth on all sides,
about a foot square and perhaps four feet tall. As the group
neared they could discern the top was inlaid with several round
objects. A closer inspection showed the objects to be beer bottle
tops.

“This is the lock to the Great Vault,” whispered Ralph. ‘“By
pressing the right combination of bottle tops on the top of the
pedestal, one can disarm the protective devices and open the
gates to the Vault.

“And if not . . .?” questioned Dimwit.

The wizard shook his head. “None have ever returned to
tell.” The mage, however, seemed drawn to the compelling
device, and his arm stretched towards the top of the pedestal as if
to touch one of the bottle cap buttons. ’Lumbo grabbed Ralph’s
arm and quickly pulled him back.

“Not this time, pea-brain!” reprimanded ’Lumbo. “We
must make this decision on the basis of careful logic and thought.
Otherwise. . .”

“Spoilsport,” muttered Ralph, stepping back and folding his
arms impatiently.

Amazed at the usually thoughtless elf’s foresight, Dimwit’s
mouth dropped open in surprise. Unfortunately, the dwarf had
forgotten the cigar butt clenched between his teeth. As the group
watched with horror, the offending El Ropo bounced once on a
Pabst cap, rolled over a Schlitz Malt lid and came to rest on a
Coors seal. Torches flared, unseen gongs pealed forth, and a section
of one wall, undisturbed for unknown eons, slid open with a
jerk and a loud rasp of rusted metal against metal.

“Such luck!” breathed Dimwit.

“The fates are kind,” agreed Ralph.

“Shucks, fellas, it’s ‘cause I’m a Libra born on a cusp,” said
’Lumbo modestly.

The group moved towards the new opening in the wall,
slowly at first, then with increasing boldness as they sought the
reward of the end of their quest. Inside the small chamber was a
low dais covered with purple silk. Upon the silk rested a small but
intricately carved gold box. Heedless of possible danger Dimwit
snatched the box from the dais and opened the lid. The dwarf’s
face, bright with expectation, suddenly fell and with a blank stare
he held out the box for the others’ inspection. Inside was a note:

        TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
        FINDER’S KEEPER’S . . .
            (signed)
            F. BAGGINS