Gwarthar and the Dandy Highwayman entered the sewer. It was the same place in which they had poured the Golden Treasure of Akebor. It stank. There was a small pathway they could walk along so they didn't need to step into the river of brown stuff which flowed slowly through the pipe.
"Look, Dandy Highwayman, the Golden Treasure of Akebor. It has gone rotten and turned brown."
"Err...yes, Gwarthar. Listen, how long should we stay down here? Do you think Judd's minions will chase us for long?"
"Mmm. I doubt they have the intelligence to follow us this far. In fact I bet they've lost our trail already."
"So we can leave now?"
"No. The Ring of Zodnoj still draws them."
"Look. How about we just throw the Ring of Zodnoj into this river and get out of here. My costume is getting ruined, and I have to take it back to the hire shop tomorrow!"
"Would you cast away the Ring so easily? It would only lead Judd's minions down here, to the Golden Treasure of Akebor. We cannot let that happen."
"Ok, Gwarthar. I've had enough. You're fucking mental! I'm leaving." And the Dandy Highwayman left the sewer.
"Hmm," thought Gwarthar to himself. "What a queer man."
Gwarthar waited in the tunnel for about 24 hours, after which he thought it would be safe to leave. He climbed out, but not before taking some of the Golden Treasure of Akebor with him - a nugget of finest brown gold.
Once again, he was lost in the city. He needed to escape. Possibly he would find a better place to dispose of the Ring of Zodnoj in the countryside. Maybe a volcano, or some other such cliched plot device. A volcano containing a crack into which he could throw the Ring. That sounded reassuringly familiar to him, so it must be right.
He spied a vagabond sitting in a darkened alley drinking from a bottle. "Perhaps he isn't the most respectable character," thought Gwarthar, "but I bet he knows the ways of the city, maybe even the way out to reach the volcano. If nothing else a friendly chat should be enough to earn a drink of whatever is in that bottle."
"Hail, good sir," spake Gwarthar.
"Hello," said the peasant warily.
"I'm looking for a volcano. You know, a crack."
"Oooh!" said the peasant. "If it's crack you want you should talk to Big John, he lives up the road. You got money?"
"Even better! I have gold. Can you take me there?"
"Gold! That'll do very nicely. Come on then."
Gwarthar followed the peasant (whose name was Colin) up a few dark alleys. It is quite important that you know the name of the peasant, even though he only has a small part in this tale. It will help when you're next discussing this story with your friends. "Remember Colin, the poor tramp," you might say. "Who?" your friend might reply.
Colin rang the doorbell to a house and gave a password. Before long he and Gwarthar were inside a small smelly flat. Two large bald black men sat there. One of them wore a fur coat - he was Big John apparently. His associate remained silent.
"What do you want?" said Big John menacingly.
Colin answered, "This guy says he's looking for the crack."
"Yes," said Gwarthar. "I seek the crack so that I may destroy the Ring of Zodnoj."
"I don't want to hear about your gay shit. Do you have money?"
"Even better, I have gold!" and he pulled out a nugget of the Golden Treasure of Akebor he had retrieved earlier.
Big John was angry. "Get the fuck out of here." But before he could finish the sentence, they heard a siren.
"Fuck! The cops! You brought the fucking cops here!!"
"It is the Ring of Zodnoj," said Gwarthar. "It draws them."
Big John pulled out a metallic magic wand. "Ah, you are a magician too?" said Gwarthar.
"Get out of my flat or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" Big John pointed the wand at Gwarthar.
"That is powerful magic indeed. Come on, Colin, let's get out!"
Gwarthar and Colin ran back to the street, narrowly avoiding Judd's minions on the way.
"I don't suppose I could get a swig of whatever you've got in that bottle?" asked Gwarthar.