The tunnels were changing. As Girshu chased the spider, previously flat and impenetrable walls turned to webs and gaps in the tunnels became visible. There were humanoid forms in the silk here and there, and other imperfections in the previously perfectly square tunnels. The illusions of scent and sound began to fade before the sight did, already making Girshu feel as if there was something wrong. The spider silk's scent became more prevalent, as did the stench of rot and blood. The quiet moaning and pleading from the few unlucky victims that were still alive became audible. And after less than a minute, the whole illusion crumbled away.
Girshu didn't care. The spider was his target, and he'd see it dead. His frost was no illusion, so he could continue to slide after it. He could continue to throw frost balls after it, and hopefully take it down. Girshu was no longer letting the creature go. The fading of the illusions only meant that it was too hurt and too scared to properly focus on maintaining them, and that weakness was everything that Girshu had to know. It could be harmed, and it could be killed.
But he had to hurry. This spider was slowed down a bit by the frozen terrain, and Girshu had the advantage. But it was quickly encroaching on tunnels beyond that frost, where it would once again have the much greater speed and agility over Girshu. Girshu would have to cripple it before it could…
The spider runs into a large room with a pile of debris in the middle where the ceiling caved in not too long ago, and an abandoned mining cart along with some forgotten mining equipment. The frost stopped just outside of the room's entrance, and the inside was once again just rock and dirt. Urgh, awful. Girshu stops just at the frost's border and begins to throw frost attacks at the spider. The spider nimbly dodges them, now that it was no longer inconvenienced by slipping on ice. It could jump back and sideways however it wanted, without slipping and sliding.
The spider picks up some mining equipment and throws it at Girshu. Girshu counters a few with frost, sending the items clashing against the walls and just dodges some other items. The spider does the same with his frost spells, using the pile of debris as a useful tool. It had plenty of rocks to throw, was just large enough to take cover behind if Girshu would attack with something with a large area of effect, and the spider could jump around on the terrain in two dimensions rather than just dodging either left or right. And directly above it was the cave-in, an easy way for it to retreat into a direction that Girshu couldn't follow, just in case it would be defeated again. A large gap that led into a big room with a tall ceiling, plenty of exits and those man-sized talons.
Girshu tenses up as he sees the sudden shadow loom above them. The spider smiles and uses this opportunity to strike at the distracted and paralysed lizard, but then shrieks as one of its limbs is torn off completely by a mere graze. As it bleeds and wails in agony, still scuttling away in a cowardly manner after a reflexive dodge saved it from being slashed in half completely, it looks up to the ceiling in a complete panic.
***
Ole Cletus walks after his employer, only to realise that the strangely cold guy was going too quick. Welp, he'd have to catch up with the guy later, he guessed. He couldn't run that fast, certainly not after the tunnels suddenly gotten all icy and frozen over. He wondered what that was all about.
With his one good nostril, Ole Cletus sniffs the air. New and strange smells were suddenly appearing out of nowhere, in a most unnatural manner. They weren't being carried in by a breeze or getting closer themselves, rather than that they were already close. Yet unnoticeable before. How strange. It would be a useful trick if he'd know how to do that, because his palls would never complain about his body odor again. Or the scent of alcohol on his breath and clothes. Or the stench of his feet. Or…
And the dragon's treasures, of course. If this magic mumbo-jumbo could mask the smell of treasure that only dragons seemed to be able to smell, it would be a lot easier to sneak out of the dragon's hoard without being detected. That sure would be mighty useful, not to have an angry dragon on your tail while trying to navigate the tunnels…
Something pokes Ole Cletus, and he turns around to it. He didn't see anything, of course, but…
Nope, he didn't hear or smell anything either. Weird. There was just that weird mumbling in some unknown language, the same they had heard when they found the-
"Oh right, of course!" Cletus says in his perfectly pronounced common with an illiteration and grace that elves were envious of. Certainly it was still umblemished and perfect, despite his hearing being so bad that he could barely even hear himself speak. "The loot! Girs would be quite nettled if I were to forget it."
Ole Cletus feels around for the orb with the intend to take it and stroll after his employer. Girs sure was a swell fellow, for already entrusting Cletus with the magical loot all by himself despite how briefly they had known each other. Cletus finds the orb, conveniently perched up on some kind of pedestral. A pedestral about the height of a human child sitting down. Hm, that was a weird comparison. A human bench-height pedestral. Yes, that made more sense.
A rumbling runs through the floor, through all of the tunnels walls around them. Ole Cletus freezes up. "Oh dear, I know that rumble. How I wish I didn't know that rumble. Girs and I should get the hell out of here before Cordath-"
***
The two massive fingers reach through the hole in the ceiling, trying to grab at the wounded spider. It crawls back and presses itself against the wall. Girshu slowly slithers back into the frozen tunnels, not at all interested in facing this massive red-scaled behemoth.
The fingers retract back into the ceiling and are replaced by one big yellow eye. The red dragon's head was so large that it covered the cave-in hole completely, blocking out what little light came from the room above. "Give me back my treasure, you filthy thieves! Damned dwarves, always taking what isn't yours! I ought to burn your whole city down to the ground! One day I will, but for now I'll settle on you!"
"Oh, crap." Girshu whispers, already knowing what was coming next. He slowly turns around, ready to glide away.
The eye withdraws from the hole, the head rearing to face it directly.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap!" Girshu says, as he quickly starts to pull himself forwards and begins to glide away from this place as fast as he can. Behind him, the spider quickly phases into the spirit realm.
The cave behind Girshu lights up brightly as the fire in the back of Gordath the Firestarter's throat illuminates the place as if it was basking in the early morning's sun.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!"
***
Ole Cletus sniffs the orb he was holding. It had some strange kind of pull to it, almost as if someone was trying to hold on to it or trying to pull it away from him. How odd. But he didn't smell anything. He wondered if this orb smelled like Cordath's treasure to the old dragon? And if so, to how far away could Cordath smell it, now that the illusion of no scents had faded?
"Oh, there comes Girs. He must've defeaten the beast already. That was quick. Hey Girs-!"
