Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-32558333-20170719002408/@comment-34904368-20180311150956

I quickly identify the five others.

There was some guy who had dissappeared as soon as the doors shut, running with unrivalled speed. He vaulted clear over a wall, and was gone.

Another guy had a bow and a quiver of demonic energy arrows. He put on a skull face mask with holes for his eyes and mouth, and slunk off.

The third guy had massive abs, a chest full of hair, bulging muscles, as well as a storming temperment. He charged ahead.

The fourth guy had a real katana, kuhkri, and axe. He was extermely slow. He clunked off as well.

I just put down my carry on bag, and took out a small tube of grey powder, a syringe of red liquid, a few small white pills, and a glass of black stuff.

This was going to take a hell of a lot of luck to work.

I walked off in the direction of the fast guy, walking around the wall and along the corridors, stepping out of the way of traps and pits.

*****

Admittedly, my heart jumped as I heard a clang and slithering sounds. I pulled the bottle of black liquid out, readying it. I heard the unmistakable squeak of running shoes, and ducked into a corner.

I almost missed the blur that was the fast parkour guy, as he barged past. He seemed to be going in circles, as i saw him run past a few times already.

I tossed the black liquid on the floor in front of him, just in time, trapping him. He looked up at me with a mixture of fear and extreme anger,

“THE F*CK IS THIS?!” (Censored due to it being on national telivision.)

“A mixture of tar, rubber cement, industrial grade body heat activated glue, adhesives, and oil,” I replied calmly, walking away. “Don’t get too much on ya, It doesn’t wash out.”|

“F*CK YOU!!!”

“And don’t thrash so much, you’re gonna get more stuck.”

A Wurm barreled across the corridor, wrapping coils around him. He screamed, his mouth quickly miffled by tits and his quenched squeaks of rage quickly turned to moans and pleads. I waited till they were into it, before tossing the rest of the stuff over the two, sticking them firmly together. I pulled the sweaty shoes from him, and tossed them over the dungeon in a bid to make the Wurms go that way due to the scent.

I ran quickly, in the opposite direction, as I heard crashing. I pulled the tube of grey powder out, sneaking up on the clanging sounds of weapons. It was the weapon guy. I saw him fending off a series of rope traps that had flown out from the wall. I uncorked the tube, throwing the powder over him.

He instantly dropped all his weapons and fell over.

“What the hell did you just do?! Help me out here! I’ll share the winnings! Please!” he pleaded, but I paid him no mind.

“Powder made from Oomukade poison. Makes you relaxed. Very relaxed. Savor your conciousness while you can, for soon you’re gonna be out cold by Wurms fucking you to hell and back.”

“Please! I’ll pay ya two, three grand! Just help me!”

“Nah,” I said, taking his weapons, “even if I wanted to, which i don’t, i haven’t got the antidote. Bye-bye.”

“If i’d known you would have done this, i’d sliced you apart as soon as the match started!”

“Which is why I used powder. Don’t have to get in harms way.”

He screamed blue-murder, as I walked away. I dragged the weapons across the walls to make it look like a Wurm had already been there, until the katana broke and the axe dulled.

I came up to the manly man, who was stomping past my hiding place. I pulled the red syringe out, and tossed the kukhri to a corner. He tensed, turning to look with fists raised in that direction.

Little did he know, i was behind him in an instant. I stabbed the syringe into him, right onto a vein. He fell over, catching his chest.

“What the HELL WAS THAT?!” he bellowed, as he took a step back from me.

“Raging Mushroom Extract. Stabbed ya right in a vein, which means it will take the stuff right to your heart. You’ll react faster.”

Not one, but two Wurms turned a corner into our hall, and I ducked to the side as the hulk of a man dived at both and knocked them down in an impressive clothesline. He began to rape them, as I strolled down the next hall.

I saw footprints in the dust, where nobody had came in a long while. The arrow guy was crouched next to a wall, and opposite, ten meters away, a Wurm with raging lust in her eyes and six arrows sticking out of her.

He turned for a split second, firing an arrow at the wall near where I was hiding. One more inch and the thing would have gone up my nose.

I decided against playing nice.

With a lot of effort, I dragged myself up a two meter high wall, and walked along the top. I took a straw from my shirt pocket, put three pills in, and put it to my lips.

The Wurm reared her head and shouted, “WANT HUBBY!”

“Taking the chance, I blew hard. Two or three of the three pills whizzed across the gap, right into her mouth. She slumped over, moaning, and in a few seconds, fell asleep.

Before the arrow guy knew what happened, I dropped down, slamming a pill in his mouth. I then hit him hard enough to wind him, and fed him the rest of the pills. His intake of breath sucked a few down his throat.

“What the fuck...weereeee...thoozzzee...” he mumbled, staggering to the side.

“Sleeping pills,” I responded flatly. He fell over, and I dragged his sleeping body next to the sleeping Wurm.

I turned around, spotting lights illuminating the exit.

I was swarmed by reporters as soon as I stepped into the light.

“How did you manage to make it out of the dungeon alive?! Nobody has been able to even make it in over half a year!” shouted a journalist.

“Eeh, a good magician never reveals his secrets. Not that i’m a magician,” I replied. This earned a laugh from the crowd.

A Werecat reporter rushed over. “Did you feel scared? Exited?”

“Meh,” I mumbled, “just a little startled with that arrow trick.

“You stuck to the shadows, but we saw a man stuck to the ground, a man poisoned, a man drugged, amd a man sedated. What are your thoughts on this?” asked a Scylla reporter.

“I wonder.”

“Did you use drugs to get here?!” asked an Apophis, raising a microphone to my lips.

“Not nessacarily.”

I calmly exused myself, going to collect my cash prize. I then walked over to the bathroom. I locked the door, climbed out the window, and slid down a pole to avoid the reporters knocking, asking questions.

I walked hurridly down the street, followed by reporters. They persisted. I ducked into the back door of a shop, sprinted out and walked with my head low as they followed. I pulled my hat off, placed it onto the head of a man nearby, (carefully does it) and jumped onto a bus just before it’s doors closed. The reporters streamed from the front and swarmed him, as the bus, with me on it, departed.

I got off in time to see more reporters, and I ducked into a bar. My friends jumped up.

“You made it! What the hell! He made it!” shouted my roomate.

“Hah. That means I get forty bucks,” said my other roomate.

“We saw the whole thing on TV, except for you. We didn’t even see you. How’d ya do it?” asked my schoolfriend.

I pulled the most expensive beer I could find, feeling the wads of money in my pocket, hearing the cheers of the bar and the shouts of reporters run by, the people patting me on the back, the bartender winking, the monstergirls clapping.

“So,” I began.