Alphonse and the Diamond Staff

Alphonse couldn’t believe it. Here, in the middle of a crumbling temple overpopulated by vines and insects the likes of he wished he never knew, was a giant, diamond-tipped staff. It rested, black obsidian shaft inset on a smooth marble dais, gleaming with every meager beam of sunlight that managed to make its way through the tangles of thorns and leaves. Never before had he seen such a large stone. It was easily half the size of his head, faceted in a huge diamond shape.

A diamond diamond, Alphonse chuckled to himself.

The eleven great statues that stood, half-emerged from the wall, leered with him at the stone’s beauty. Their eyes were sparkling gems, but no treasure hunter would reach for those ocular rainbows when even they were enraptured by the room’s centerpiece.

Slowly, reverently, Alphonse approached the dais. From an angle, it appeared perfectly smooth. Standing beside it, however, he saw the top surface was engraved with an inscription – a telltale Ancient Treasure Here sign. The ancient script was one he wasn’t entirely familiar with. Yet, he knew perfectly what it said. He had encountered this particular type of inscription several times before on his adventures.

“Here lies…” it read; the indecipherable text was likely the name of the staff. A relic, then.

Underneath, a phrase he had seen so many times he could write it in his sleep: “Do not touch.”

“I should have that tattooed on me somewhere,” Alphonse laughed. “Though the irony might kill me.”

He slipped his tiny satchel off of his back. With a few button pops and zipper zips, the bag parachuted out into something several times its original size. The staff would fit easily.

Alphonse cracked his neck left and right, an idiosyncratic pre-treasure-grabbing ritual he’d developed. He saw no signs of dropping blades or anti-treasure hunter mines, but he was wary nonetheless. The ancients were incredibly skilled at hiding their defenses. The scar on his right arm was proof of that; he had learned that lesson the hard way.

He took a dense cylinder of metal from his pocket. In case removing the staff’s weight triggered any defenses, he planned to bait-and-switch the cylinder for the staff, hopefully leaving the system none the wiser.

No sooner had his fingertips brushed the smooth obsidian, though, did the room’s ambience change rapidly. Alphonse heard the unmistakable stone crumbling of a closing door; sure enough, he saw movement behind him.

But it wasn’t the door. The movement was all around him. Their eyes glaring with light, he saw the statues – two at the door, four on either side, one directly in front of him – strain against the wall they were merged with. Their bodies groaned against the stone, slowly sliding free, working their way towards him.

The brilliant red stones of the statue before him flashed with what could only be called rage. Its lion-like mouth creaked open slightly, letting a thunderous voice loose:

“I told you not to do that.”