by Eric Ugland
“Eona,” he said, tapping his finger on teeth that were jet black. I couldn’t remember if they’d been before, but that was such an unmistakable trait, how could I have missed his teeth being black. “She is a dear, and yes, I believe she has taken quite the interest in you. But, lest you forget, I took an interest in you first.”
“No, I know. I haven’t forgotten. Your boons have, I mean, you’re the reason I’m here and the reason I’m still here.”
“I do notice you are missing some of the, well, more impressive gifts I bestowed upon you.”
“Yeah, the sword and the shield? About those—”
“You never even attempted their retrieval. Watch me pretend I am hurt.”
“You don’t care?”
“No. But others do. They are curious for your reasoning.”
“I mean, it was pretty simple to me. I was fucking unconscious falling down the mountain. I have no fucking clue where they ended up. It’s a big fucking mountain — they could have bounced anywhere. Hell, they might have been down the same crevasse I fell down, but what fucking good would it have done me to get back to that crevasse, and get eaten again? I was thinking I’d head back there once I have enough levels or whatnot to survive the fall down to the bottom without being paralyzed so I could actually have a chance at fighting whatever that monster was.”
“Bad luck there,” he said. “That you should lose your sword to such a magnificent beast. Plenty of coin changed hands over that blunder of yours.”
“Yeah, I—” I was tempted to ask him about the coins and who’d been gambling on my life, but it seemed that any time I asked question along that line, he stopped talking about it. “I just wanted to go fishing then, man. I wanted to lead a life of solitude. Be on my own. The sword was a nice bonus, but it wasn’t until I met Cleeve and he made me his, well, until he adopted me, that I decided I needed to be more than just a dude.”
“Rather serendipitous, if I do say so.”
“You had a hand in that?“
He gave me a wry smile. “Of course not.”
It was the perfect sort of non-answer. I had no idea if he had played a role or if he hadn’t. Paul was damn good at surfing the line of vague, giving me next to nothing on what might be the truth. Also, it seemed like half what he said just served to confuse me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. He seemed to lean back and fall into a chair that wasn’t there until it was. I felt a nudge at my knees and soon I was sitting in a chair across from him. They were comfortable arm chairs —white leather of course — and it felt like mine had been customized precisely for me.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
“Interesting question, but I will not answer that one,” Mister Paul said. “Would you like to try another?”
“Uh, sure. Do the stat increases have an effect? I mean, I can tell strength does, but what about charisma or intelligence? Am I getting smarter?”
“Strength is a facile one, isn’t it? You can easily tell when there’s been a change. Intelligence does have an effect, but I have to admit, I am not as versed in the peculiarities of the attributes as some of my brethren might be. Intelligence increases will not be dramatic, you certainly will not suddenly understand quantum mechanics. You still need to learn things. Just, when you do study something, or are introduced to something new, there’s a greater chance you will retain the information. That you will understand it, grasp it, apply it correctly. Does that make sense?”
“Sure, I guess. And charisma?”
“Harder still to explain, sadly. More ephemeral. Think of it as a measure of attention. How you hold the room, the strength of feelings others are able to put towards you. Understand?”
“I mean, I guess.”
“Perhaps you should put a few more points into intelligence then. Before I go, I do have a few gifts for you.”
“A boon?”
His eyes twinkled. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait until you see them.”
“Any tips about getting out of the oubliette?”
“I’m sure you’ll find it if you get a light in just the right spot,” Mister Paul said. “And please do find the dungeon. As far as I know, it has been quite some time since someone found one. Would really do wonders for you numbers.”
“Numbers?”
“Hush now, darling.”
My chair disappeared out from under me, and I was falling.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I woke up falling onto the ground near the bed. My head totally missed the mattress and bounced against the floor hard. I popped up to my feet, and a few little boxes fell off me. They were nicely wrapped, white on white, with little tags on them.
They all had bizarre names attached to them: Arkengod, IncredibleInept, and Fortinbuff. But there was no indication of what might be inside. I opened the first box, and it was a stat potion.
You have found Bonus Attribute Potion
Item Type: Potion
Item Class: Rare
Item Quality: Exquisite
Durability: 3/3
Weight: 1 lb
Requirements: the ability to drink
Description: This rare potion gives you some additional attribute points (10) to spend as you see fit. Beware: as soon as it is exposed to the air, it begins to degrade.
The durability dropped, and I almost chugged it immediately. But as I raised the bottle to my lips, I realized there was someone who needed it more than I did.
I grabbed Nikolai, rolled him over, and jammed the bottle into his mouth as the durability clicked down again.
“Drink,” I said. “An order from your hirð leader.”
Eyes wide, he drank. As he swallowed the last drop, the bottle disintegrated in my hands.
“What is this?” he asked, then he read over his display, and he frowned. “Where did this come from?”
“A gift from a friend.”
“Who?”
“Whom.”
“What?”
“No matter. Put the new points to work, and get some more sleep. You look like shit.”
I think he wanted to argue, but he was clearly exhausted. When I pushed him back down on the mattress, he acquiesced, snoring again almost instantly.
Back over to the presents, I opened the next one. It was a key.
You have found A Skeleton Key
Item Type: Key
Item Class: Rare
Item Quality: Exquisite
Durability: 1/1
Weight: .1 lb
Requirements: a lock
Description: This key unlocks a single lock.
Odd, but definitely useful. I tucked it in the bag.
The last present. This one was from IncredibleInept, whomever that was, and included a post-script: “More furry cute things, pls.” I was confused. Very very confused.
Goodness, you have found the Spell Book: Tame (Greater)
The book was small, like a pocket notebook, but it was fairly buzzing with power. A greater spell. That had to be pretty badass. When I popped open the book it felt like my brain was exploding. I fell over backward.
Not sure how long I was out, but when I next opened my eyes, my head hurt like a motherfucker and my face felt wet.
You have learned the spell: TAME (GREATER)
Tame allows you to attempt to tame any non-sentient animal. Greater Tame allows you to attempt to tame any non-sentient monster, demon, devil, aberration, fiend, creature, etc. Be aware, every level above your own decreases your chances of taming the creature by 10%.
The wetness was Ragnar pouring water on my face.
“He’s up,” Ragnar said.
Skeld moved into my field of view.
“What the hell were you doing?” he asked.
“Learning a new spell,” I replied, moving my jaw around. I must have been clenching the whole time I was out.
“I thought you stopped doing that stupid shit,” Ragnar sniped. “And is
Nikolai in the hirð now?”
“He is. And I could never stop doing stupid shit. It’s kind of my thing.”
“Why bother?” Ragnar asked. “Why increase your hirð when we are doomed to die in this accursed pit?”
“Because we’re not going to die in here. Jesus on a cupcake, calm your tits.”
They both looked at me like I was crazy. Which, to be fair, I probably was. And I was more than a little desperate to not be the idiot who got his party killed by voluntarily going into an oubliette. I thought about what Mister Paul had told me — that I just needed more light to find the entrance to the dungeon.
I had two theories on that. Either some clever runes had been carved into the wall, maybe something along the lines of the hidden elven runes in Lord of the Rings, or, well, that was the main idea I had. The other was just that since I’d used dark vision the day prior, maybe there was something I’d missed by not having actual light to see.
I walked over to the bag of candles to see what kind of a dent we’d made in them. There were plenty left, and I was pretty sure I also had a few in the bag of holding. Still, it wasn’t an inexhaustible supply, so I needed to make sure we kept an eye out for light sources.
Emeline was still asleep. All the prisoners were, for that matter. Or ex-prisoners. Poor things must’ve been completely exhausted. I smiled at the thought that they finally felt safe enough to rest. Emeline wore the ball gown, and the gown fit her quite well, because she looked pretty dang good, just a little out of place.
I moved all the way over to the wall before getting Skeld to light the candle, and then I began the search. Moving slowly, carefully, looking for even the smallest variations on the dark stone bricks.
But I wasn’t seeing anything. The candle didn’t put off a ton of light, and it flickered like you wouldn’t believe. It was impossible to make out details on the stone while worrying about the candle blowing out.
That stopped me in my tracks.
Slowly, I took a few steps back. The candle flame flickered again. As if wind blew across it, ever so slightly.
“Wind,” I said. “There’s air moving here.”
Both the hirð boys walked over and put their tiny paw-hands up against the wall, feeling around the grout and the bricks.
“It is faint,” Skeld said, pointing to a specific bit of cracked mortar, “but I think it is mostly from here.”
“Perfect,” I said.
I pulled the pick from my bag and went to work. The first hit jostled the rock a bit, so I let loose, putting the entirety of my strength behind the next hit. Which was, perhaps just a little too much. The stone shattered and the hammer handle broke. But more importantly, the shattered bits of stone didn’t shoot back at me. Instead, they fell into a space behind the wall. I picked up the pick head, and the broken handle, and dropped them in the bag. Instead, I pulled out a warhammer that had a metal haft forge-welded to a huge metal head. That way, it wouldn’t break.
I swung again and again, until I could get my head through the hole and look.
Bingo.
I saw a tall stone door covered in bizarre and unsettling carvings. Symbols I didn’t understand, and pictograms of monsters I did. A single brass ring hung in the middle. It had to be the dungeon.
“Is it there?” Skeld asked.
“Something is,” I replied.
There was a slow cracking sound, and a brick landed on my head. Then another. I pulled out of the hole and looked up.
If there’s one thing I know now about structural integrity and domes, it’s that domes don’t have a whole lot of it, especially if you start pulling pieces out. And currently the hole I’d punched in the side of the dome was causing said dome to crash in on itself. Fast.
“Get everyone and everything out that door,” I yelled, pointing behind me, already running towards our sleeping companions.
I chanced a look up. A crack was shooting towards the top. I should have thought my actions through a little more. Maybe I did have bit of a ‘being stupid’ problem. Sprinting across the floor, I dove to cover as much of Nikolai and Emeline as I could, getting my body them over just as the stone bricks smashed down. Which meant I got a lot of hurt, and they got squished into the mattress.
And woken up.
There was the unmistakable and unpleasant sound of stones falling out of the oubliette and smashing against the floor around us. I pulled Nikolai under one arm, and Emeline under the other, ignoring his squawking and her smashing her petite fists against me. I ran for the dungeon.
Next to me, the hirðmen pulled Donner along, dodging the falling rubble.
I slid to a stop and set my charges down. We turned to watch the destruction. Rocks continued to fall, dust pouring in and around the area. Even with dark vision, I was about to be blind. With no other choice, I reached for the door.
As soon as I touched the center ring, I got a notification:
You have reached The Dungeon of the Ancients.
Congratulations and warnings unto you.
Do you wish to form a party or enter as a solo adventurer?
“Shit,” I whispered, sneaking a glance above to see more of the brick and mortar of the prison tumbling down. “I’m making a party and we’re going into a dungeon. Everyone accept.”
I shot out invites to Donner and Emeline, and then grabbed the handle again.
You have reached The Dungeon of the Ancients.
Congratulations and warnings unto you.
Do you wish to enter?
YES/NO
Grinning like an idiot, I selected YES just as everything around us started to collapse.
Then, everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Light flared around us, and not only could we see, but we could breathe, there wasn’t even a mote of dust floating in the air around us. The door to the dungeon hadn’t opened in a traditional sense, it was more of a magical portal I guess. At least, that’s the way it seemed to me.
“A dungeon,” Nikolai said, barely above a whisper.
While the locals were impressed about the whole thing — or at least doing a good job of seeming like it — I had to admit that what I saw wasn’t anything to write home about. We were in a dimly-lit room, not that big, not that small. A heavy wooden table took over most of one side of the room, a threadbare carpet held the center, and a few chairs that had seen better days rounded things out. A bleached skeleton sat in the corner, arms around its knees. A few threads of remaining clothes hung off it, and a rusting sword laid on the ground nearby. Some small bits of metal dotted the skeletons waist, all that remained from what seemed like it had once been a belt and sheath. Obviously, there were no windows, but there was a single door mounted in the middle of the far wall. But the door we’d come through was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t find a hatch above us, or a trap door below us either. We’d appeared in the space and now there was no exit.
“So, uh —” I started, but Nikolai put his hand up.
“This is a Dungeon. I did not believe one existed here, beneath Osterstadt, but you have proven me wrong. Before you ask me far too many questions with obvious answers, what happened to your face?”
“My face?”
“It is covered in blood.”
I put my hand up and on my face. I felt tacky. Sure enough, blood came off on my hand. Nothing hurt though.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“We found him like that when we woke him up,” Skeld said.
“What were you doing last night?” Nikolai said. “Where did you get that potion you forced down my throat?”
“I had a visit from Mister Paul.”
“The being who blessed you with your boons?”
“That’s the one.”
“And he gave you that potion, the one you gave to me?”
“Yup.”
“You are a fool. You realize you spurned his gift?”
“Dude, you needed it more—”
“I mean nothing t
o this deity! You, on the other hand, received a great gift from him and— Never mind. It is done, you are likely never going to see him again, but we all might feel his wrath. What else did he give you?”
“A spell book—”
“Montana,” Nikolai snapped. “You attempted to learn another spell?”
“Hey, man, I did learn that spell.”
“Your bullheadedness will be the death of us all. Stop trying to learn spells.”
“Why?”
“Clearly you have little gift for magic, or else it would not cause you such grief every time you attempt to learn it.”
“So I can’t do magic?”
“It certainly seems as if it is not your strong suit.””
“Is that somewhere on my character sheet?”
“Magic and muscles do not play well together,” Nikolai said. “You being little else beyond muscle are risking your life every time you even cast a spell. Especially if it is a spell requiring heavy amounts of mana. Similarly with learning spells. Have you ever wondered why it hurts you so?”
“No one told me any of this,” I said. “How the fuck was I supposed to know?”
“Perhaps you could think about asking questions before engaging in foolish actions, Montana Coggeshall, Duke of Idiots.”
“Seems a bit harsh,” I muttered.
“You are the one who keeps tying lives to yours and yet act as if nothing you do has consequences.”
I opened my mouth to rebut him, but I really had nothing to say. The man had a point. It may have been a point I didn’t particularly like, but it was a point nonetheless.
Nikolai shook his head, and started pacing.
“I am assuming none of you have been in a Dungeon before,” he said, then looked out at his collected audience. No one said anything. “Silence. Good. Perhaps you’ve heard of Dungeons then.”