the smuggler’s bible


Bloodtooth kicks over a stalagmite and sighs as a wall rumbles and heaves, sliding back to reveal another secret tunnel.

“How big do you reckon this place is?” Snake-in-the-Grass says.

“Impossible to know.”

“And we’re looking for one measly spell in here? What’s it even look like?”

“I sort of remember some purple light,” Bloodtooth says. He scatters a pile of old bones out of his way with the tip of his sword and steps carefully over a pressure plate. “Or maybe that’s just how it tasted.”

“You really aren’t equipped for this kinda thing, huh?”

“I certainly am not.”