I’m sure most have had an encounter with a Chest Mimic. After ridding an area of all it’s evil doers and miscreants of ill deeds, you steadily make your way over to a chest with the grand expectation it will be full of epic loot and gold only to have it spring to life and bite you right on the head! Then you have to bash this latest threat into wood splinters and shards. Further, no epic loot or gold.

But now I have managed to turn the tide. I have recently come into possession of a very special item, a whistle in fact, that allows me to conjure up a Chest Mimic that will do my bidding and engage in heated battle against enemies of all creeds.

Barry is taking the winter off, the slothful devil, so for the time being, Woody the Chest Mimic will venture out with me into the inhospitable lands of New Britannia while we try to restore peace and order, slay the undead, deal with shifty Kobolds, stab Thugs and Bandits and of course, look for epic loot that we can turn in to the local merchant for a fraction of what it’s really worth so we can get bread and perhaps a bowl of mutton. Not to mention a mug of ale.

I have to say, Woody is a rather stalwart companion who’s eager to take on whatever foe that traverses into his area of influence. I had ventured far out into the fields of the Blood River and Woody chased all manner of creature down the paths, over the hills, around the rocks and through the trees. He is quite keen to chomp at anything and everything and seems to make a habit of going at them from the back side.

A Thug made the mistake of disregarding my mimic only to have it turn and make a meal of his buttocks. It will take quite some time to erase the memory of his shock and surprise as Woody leaped into action and latched on. It may be callous of me, but I wasn’t sure if I should be horrified or amused. One moment he’s going for the big hammer throw with obvious intent to do my cranium harm, then the next he has multiple rows of Woody’s sharp chompers buried in his leggings with no intent of letting go.

He may not be all that fast, and indeed has been known to fall behind quite badly, which I attribute to him not actually having any legs. But he is able to bound like a champion and those bulbous and lugubrious eyes of his take in the entire scene.

He can be a touch overzealous, so I will need to keep an eye on him lest we find ourselves in serious trouble. I as of yet have not had to do battle against another mimic and can only hope Woody will show his allegiance to me and not turn to bite the hand, arm and torse that feeds him.

Although I’m not entirely sure what he eats, since he seems to eat everything.

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All right Woody, my ever alert little companion, what manner of mischief do you see that we can thwart?

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Wait a minute, do you have coins hidden in there you aren’t telling me about? I hear the distinct rattle of coins.

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Oh, that was a nasty bite! And right in the hind section too.

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Well done Woody! I shall reward you for gallant bravery in combat by cooking … what the devil do you eat my little friend?

More brilliant musings about my adventures in New Britannia

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