The man called Carter looked at his fallen companions, the short, bearded man named Mardu, killed by the corpse of the lich, and Merek, the lanky spellcaster, slain by his own hand. Either one of them would have done the same to me, He justified to himself, his conscious clear. He didn’t bother to check on the one-armed boy, he’d bleed out soon, there was no threat there.

He took stock of the treasure, it would take multiple trips to take it out of the cave, he knew, though it may be done quicker if he could find more weak-willed slaves to carry it out for him. Peasants were easy to control, easier to dispose of once their usefulness was over. Time didn’t matter to him any longer, he could take the treasure out at his leisure.

He reached down to grab a handful of his gold, to bask in the riches it had taken most of his lifetime to find. Doing so, the gold coins moved away from his hand. He instantly pulled back, cursing himself for being a greedy fool, not waiting until Merek had check the remainder of the treasure for traps. The piles of gold began to move and sway like running water, the gems and jewels flowing into a center mass.

Carter held his sword out in front of him, his eyes wide as the golden mass flowed out around him. The whole of the creature moved and rippled, like some animate liquid, snatching up the bodies of the two fallen thieves. Cloth and flesh of Mardu and Merek began to melt, quickly leaving only bones behind, visible through the golden liquid. Carter quickly grabbed his torch and held it aloft, using the heat from the fire to try and push the monster back. His eyes darted towards the exit of the room, looking at the stairway as the only hope he had of escape.

Kurtz would have taken pleasure in the look of panic on the bandit’s face, had he the strength to appreciate the irony of the situation, feeling the same fear that had followed Kurtz through the entire tomb. They boy knew that the end was coming, that there would be no escape even if the bandit was eaten by the monster, the stable boy would either bleed to death or be eaten by the oozing monster. The only regret Kurtz had was that either death was going to be painful, and then his eyes darted to the chute close to him, most likely for garbage. Falling would be quick and painless, he wouldn’t feel the sharp landing if it was far enough. He pulled himself over to the hole and turned back to see the bandit throw the torch down and run for the stairs. The golden gel rushed at Carter with the force of a raging river, his screams muffled out by the monster. Eventually the bandit stopped flailing, his body melting inside the monster.

The golden liquid began to head in Kurtz direction, slowly pouring over the maze marked floors. The light of the torches began to die out as the monster’s body slowly snuffed the flame. Without a second thought, Kurtz pulled himself into the hole.