Another Molroy Adventure

Note : Hello guys ! This is the short bit I wrote for the map update post for RR, since it still asks for a minimum number of characters for a chapter, so I wrote another thing about the unlucky adventurer Molroy, one yet another (mis)adventure. So you guys get an early sneak peek !

I know, it's an appetizer, but hey.

Also, chapters 295 and 296 have been written (today, as a matter of fact). I'll wait until I have 297 to have something of a buffer, then I think I'll start posting them here again, try and start another streak.

"Fuck fuck fuck FUCK !" Screamed Molroy as he ran away from the spider swarm scuttling out of the moat like a tidal wave.

He whirled around a half destroyed...house ? Something like that, and sighed in relief as he peered around the wall, and saw the golems retreating, leaving the bodies of his party behind.

Someday, someday he'd find better teammates. Who weren't idiots. He'd told them not to touch the damned chest, but did they listen ? Noooo. They just had to try to fight the freaking challenge.

Fortunately, he was still up, even if his idiotic friends weren't. And safe.

He sighed again, this time in frustration at his friends' stupidity, and turned around.

Only to find himself face to face with a golem patrol.

"You have got to be kidding me."

For a strange, split second, it seemed like the lead golem could understand him.

Then the entire patrol leapt to attack.

He, amazingly enough, manage to take three down before being completely overwhelmed.

He opened his eyes, glaring at the now familiar ceiling of the resurrection room.

He was going to fucking kill his teammates. They owed him beer at least for the week, and-

He blinked as he tried to sit up, and felt as if his legs were pinned under a anvil.

Molroy looked down, and tilted his head as he saw the large back. It looked like the most bog standard potato sack anyone could think of, but the glint of metal could be seen under the rough weave. And on it was emblazonned the dungeon core's heraldry, the colden cog with the orbiting multi colored electrons. 'Per Magica et Technica, Semper Invicta' said the words emblazonned above and below the symbols.

He raised himself with a supreme effort of will, and opened the bag.

It was...full of loot ?

He hadn't collected that. For that matter, there was some that sure as shit didn't belong in the second or first floor. Some of it he recognized from tales and the information boards to be third and even fourth floor loot, though for the latter the fact that it was a damned musket was a dead giveaway.

He looked around, but the room he was in was empty, save for a golem with refreshments, who didn't answer any of his questions.

Hours later, as he was rested enough to move under his own power, he staggered out of the dungeon, and into the waiting stretchers, ready for another stint in the town's infirmary.

All the while wondering if the dungeon core had been watching him. And why she had taken pity on him.