Dauntless Dungeon

by Devan Johnson

  Their conversation was interrupted by a loud trumpeting sound blasting through the air with three loud notes. “Attention Party members!” A male centaur with long brown hair and a trimmed beard, holding a horn in his hand, yelled from the entrance. “As a special surprise, for making it through the tests,” he paused occasionally in his dialogue, probably for dramatic effect, Kheeta assumed. “From your favorite Bard Pip, is the theatrical retelling of Octilus! Come, and bear witness out in the main courtyard!” As the man finished the air around them seemed to visibly warble, and when Kheeta blinked they were outside. All of the applicants were looking around, the tables and chairs were gone, the food was gone, the entire building had simply vanished.

  “Well I guess there goes the food,” Bartlebee muttered as he thought of his half-eaten chicken leg. His frown didn’t last long however, as Klept nudged his hand and he saw the little thief opening a small sack, pulling out a buttered roll. “Thanks Klept, you’re awesome.” The Bard complimented taking the offering and receiving a smile and nod in reply.

  “Where do you think we’re supposed to-“ Kheeta began to ask, only to be spun around by large iron hands on her shoulders. “Oh,” before her stood a large theatre stage, with red curtains so tall and wide they may as well have been sails. Bleachers five rows high were positioned for optimal acoustics and were already being filled with applicants eager to see the performance.

  “I guess we get to watch a play?” Aurora said, still a little confused as to what was happening.

  “I know! How exciting, yes!” Bartlebee exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down and spinning in small circles.

  “You just don’t have an off mode do you?” Tarek asked the Meripint with a glower. “I’m not going to a dumb play, I’ve got much better things to do.” With his condescending statement said, he turned on his heel and headed back for the cabins.

  “Gods he’s a jerk,” Bartlebee said as they watched the Sylphyte stomp away. “How did you not drown him as a child Golluk?”

  By his body language, Kheeta assumed that if the Golem had eyes they would have almost popped out of his head. “Excuse me? Drown Master Tarek? I could never…”

  “Calm down you big oaf, it was a joke. Now come on,” the Bard insisted pulling on Golluk’s arm and leading them all towards the bleachers. “We have to hurry or all the good seats will be taken, this is a Pip production after all.” Kheeta just laughed as she followed the hyperactive boy to their spot.

  Movement at the curtain caught her eye as she sat down, straining them as she tried to see.

  “The show will begin in 5… 4…” The Centaur man from before hollered out from his place on stage. “…2 …1” As he finished there was a flash of light so intense that Kheeta had to raise her hands to shield her eyes. When they stopped swimming, and came back into focus, she gasped. The island was gone! The bleachers, and the stage remained, but the physical ground below them was missing. We’re floating in the sky? Kheeta thought to herself with a stab of panic.

  She didn’t fully have time to comprehend what was going on, because before she could process another thought the curtains opened and she was immediately transfixed. The wooden planks of the stage were gone, the work of illusion magic she was sure, and in their place was a stone room with a large golden statue of an four armed Arachling in the center. Knelt before the visage of Tormentula was an imposing knight, in black full plate, gauntleted hands resting on the pommel of his mighty great-sword.

  “My queen, ‘tis I… Octilus.” Even though the man was easily a hundred yards away, Kheeta could hear him clearly. He stood and removed his helmet, bringing a gasp from the audience; underneath the decorated helm was a green skinned, bald head, with red eyes and tentacles in place of a nose and mouth. “I come to you with nothing but love in my heart.” The illusioned Bard on stage continued, unfazed by the shocked reactions. “It torments me day and night that I can’t be in your embrace, please my Goddess, is there no way this can be?”

  A second voice rang out through the night sky, a voice without a body, a female voice. “Octilus my one true Cleric, I hear your prayers and I too yearn for your touch.”

  Kheeta looked to Bartlebee, eyes wide as saucers, “is this true? Did Tormentula really fall in love with her Cleric?”

  “Yes, it’s what drove Octilus to try and ascend to Godhood… you’ll find out, just watch.” The Meripint answered only half paying attention to her, his eyes never leaving the spectacle before them.

  “That’s all I must do my Queen?” The Cleric asked, the scene moving on without her. “Once I have the artifact and collect the souls I will return to this temple, and then we shall be together at last.” Octilus said as he placed his helm on his head, walking to the left of the stage before disappearing in a puff of purple smoke. To Kheeta’s amazement the stage shifted again, only this time the wooden planks took on the appearance of a jungle floor. Birds chirped and a troop of Korlax howled, making her think back to the Rogue’s test, and being eaten, with a shudder before turning her attention back to the play.

  The actor that was Octilus hacked at the vines in front of him with his sword, pushing through the jungle, until finally he broke through into a clearing. “At last, the ancient scepter of Takahl.” He declared, walking quickly across the clearing to a large stone pedestal in the center that had a glowing golden rod laying atop it. As he reached out and picked up the scepter however, tribal chanting and war drums echoed through the night sky, joining the animals in a truly terrifying ambience. “I do not fear you! Show yourself!” Octilus yelled wielding the scepter in one hand and his sword in the other, spinning in tight circles, trying to see every direction at once.

  “That doesn’t belong to you,” a voice growled from the leafy brush. “I’d put it back… You really shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you.”

  “I will take whatever I please,” Octilus fired back quickly, spinning to try and find his opponent. “I am to be a God… you can not command me.”

  “God or no, you will die here.” The voice continued ominously as the drums began to beat faster and louder, causing Kheeta’s fur to stand on end and her tails to twitch nervously. As the music finally reached its full crescendo there was a loud roar and a massive monster stepped out of the bushes mere feet from Octilus. Kheeta screamed, momentarily forgetting that this was all an illusion performance, and laughed at herself for being so gullible.

  The creature stood twenty feet tall and had the general visage of a Satyr with long crooked limbs. His fur was black and matted with blood, skin missing from various places on his body, leaving muscle, bone, and sinew exposed. Above his gaunt and vacant eye the creature had long jagged antlers protruding from either side of its head. It snarled through its large lipless mouth, thousands of needle-like teeth inside as it charged at Octilus.

  “What is that?” Kheeta asked no one in particular, still unable to get over her initial shock, but she received no reply as the scene moved forward.

  She was amazed by how fluid the movements of the actor were, as he battled the creature, the fight seeming more like a choreographed dance than a contest to the death. Kheeta even found herself jumping to her feet and cheering once Octilus finally plunged his sword into the beast’s chest.

  “At last my Queen, my muse, my Goddess, the power to harvest mortal souls is mine.” He held the scepter up high above his head, as lightning struck down connecting with the golden rod and plunging everyone into darkness.

  After a few moments in the magical blackness, a dim light could be seen slowly illuminating the stage. The sight before Kheeta was not one of excitement, love, or longing however, it was one of horror.

  Octilus stood atop a high tower his helmet off and the scepter from the first act raised high into the air. Green clouds, thick, like those of a hurricane, swirled above his head while thunder and lightning split the sky. Inaudible chanting rose from the actor’s lips and that’s when Kheeta took notice of the scene beyond him.

 
The tower overlooked a town hugging the ocean shore, where people, the same race as Octilus, were running and screaming down the sandy beach. Kheeta watched in disgust as a glowing blue light was ripped from the townsfolk by an unseen force, causing each victim to fall down silent, an empty husk in the sand. The blue lights swirled together, ascending into the sky, before coming back down in a beam connecting to the golden rod in Octilus’ hand. “Finally, with one-thousand souls collected, the first step in my ascension is complete!” The mad-Cleric’s words rang out louder than the thunder and as he finished his sentence the stage and audience, once again, went black.

  This is simply amazing! Kheeta thought to herself excitedly as the light began to return to the set for the final act. The stage was now the top of a castle, rain pouring down as if it too, had a mission. Wind ripped at the walls causing a high pitch whistle as it rushed through the cracks. Octilus stood in the center of the area, a large familiar green crystal before him.

  “Wait, isn’t that the school’s crystal? Where’d he get it?” Kheeta asked Bartlebee, sure that she had missed a plot point somewhere.

  “That’s the best part of the story! No one knows how Octilus got it or even where it really comes from.” The Bard explained, never taking his eyes off the masterful performance.

  Lightning split the sky and Kheeta noticed that Octilus wasn’t alone on the castle top, a cloaked individual stood in the shadows next to him. The dark cleric raised the glowing scepter and pointed it at the crystal, “Tormentula!” He screamed, his eyes wild with madness, “I have done it! I have slain your enemies! Raised your armies! And captured one-thousand souls!” Lightning flashed again striking the ground next to Octilus, the crazed man not even flinching.

  Kheeta could hear sounds of battle in the distance, and assumed that’s what he meant by ‘raised your armies.’ I wonder how many people died fighting those armies? Kheeta wondered silently, saddened by the wasteful loss of life.

  “Stop Octilus!” A voice rang out through the storm as the doors to the top of the castle flew open, three Questers storming through.

  “You insolent fools! I don’t want to stop!” The madman screamed, as he threw his hand to the left, and the first adventurer lifted off their feet flying several yards before crashing to the floor. “I don’t have time for the likes of you, Torris… kill them.”

  The hooded figure that had been patiently waiting in the shadows stepped forward. “With pleasure sir,” his voice was smooth and hissing, similar to Seh’ Shira’s. He reached up and removed his hood as he began approaching the Party. The assassin stood seven feet tall, with a long slender body and two foot tail that didn’t seem to have a discernable beginning or end. Two muscular arms wielded chains and he began slapping them against the ground, similar to the way Kheeta had during her Mage’s test; as they connected sparks of electricity shot across the floor.

  Kheeta could tell that the Party was visibly worried, it consisted of a Musmeer that she recognized as Quest Master Koonai, an Aven female, a sparrow variant by her coloring, and a Geonor whose skin resembled sandstone.

  The Aven was the Quester that had been flung like a rag doll and was still trying to fully regain her footing, when the eel-man started whipping her way. Kheeta watched in horror as bolts of electricity traveled through the ground, striking her feet, and rooting her in place. “Good little birdie… hold still and come here!” The assassin taunted as he flung his chains forward, both crisscrossing over her chest until she was fully bound. Even from the distance Kheeta could see the currents of electricity that were pumping through the restraints, causing the bird-woman to violently convulse.

  “Let her go!” The Geonor screamed as he charged the slender attacker, who was pulling the Aven to him inch by agonizing inch.

  “If you insist…” the Eelchii sneered as he sent a massive rush of power through the chains, causing the poor Aven to scream so loud she drained out the storm for last the few seconds she was alive.

  “I’ll kill you!” The rocky Geonor swore through teary eyes as he connected with his opponent’s stomach. The force of the heavy man in a dead run sent both of them to the ground, the Geonor landing on top looking down for his kill. He lifted his right arm high above his head and Kheeta watched with amazement as the mineral deposits on his arm protruded outwards, forming a rock shield of sorts. Without another word the shield was brought down on the Eelchii’s neck so hard that the head it used to belong to rolled on the floor behind them.

  “You insignificant little cur!” Octilus raged, lifting his unarmed hand into the air, the Geonor’s body doing the same. Kheeta’s eyes scanned the stage for any sign of the Musmeer Rogue that had entered with them, she had lost him in the excitement of the fight. As she continued to search for the missing Party member, Octilus brought his hand high into the air, before slamming it down, his victim crashing into the ground repetitively.

  “Ahhhhhh!” The voice from earlier scream as Kheeta finally located the mousey man. The little Musmeer had managed to sneak close enough to Octilus that he had grasped the scepter with both hands. Pulling with all of his strength he managed to wrench the rod free from the Cleric.

  “And what, dear mouse, do you plan to do with that?” Octilus asked, more than a drop of condescension in his voice. Mumbling a small prayer to himself, the soon-to-be Quest Master, charged forward, driving the scepter into his opponent’s chest. The golden rod sunk through the iron breast plate like a hot knife through butter, “but… how?” Octilus muttered as the Musmeer continued charging, forcing the Cleric to move with him before finally crashing into the giant green crystal.

  Pinned against the hard surface by his own scepter Octilus raised his hand, “Tormentula… my bride…” The stage began to shake and the rod began to glow brighter by the second, until finally no one could see anything anymore.

  When vision returned to the audience the Quest Master stood alone atop the castle, golden rod in one hand, and the giant crystal resting against the other. “Thank you all for coming! I’ve been Pip, good night!” As the Musmeer took a grandiose bow and straightened up Kheeta noticed that his face had changed, and it was indeed Pip in different clothes. The audience erupted into applause more deafening than any thunderstorm, as one by one the different Bards came out to bow, their illusions dispelled as well.

  I’m so glad I left The Den… Kheeta found herself thinking for the thousandth time that night as she lay in bed, wondering what tomorrow’s graduation ceremony was going to be like.

  12 A Daring Rescue

  “Kheeta! Kheeta wake up we need to go!” Aurora’s panicked voice rang through her dreams, as the Florae pulled her out of bed and into consciousness.

  “What’s going on?” She replied quickly as she grabbed up her scimitar, glad, this is still here this time…

  “We’re under-“ Aurora was cut off as a loud smashing sound erupted through the room causing them both to jump and cover their ears. A seven-foot slab of cobblestone had crashed through the roof of their cabin and crushed the bed that Kheeta had just been lounging in.

  Deciding not to waste another second the girls bound out of their room and joined the others in the common area. “What’s attacking us?” Tarek asked looking out the window, his mace already in hand.

  “I can’t tell from our vantage point, we’re going to have to see when we get out there.” Golluk replied trying his hardest to catch a glimpse of an attacker through the window.

  “Where are we?” Kheeta followed up as she finally reached an opening in the window. They definitely weren’t on the island anymore, but I thought the tests were over? She thought to herself with frustration.

  The buildings outside resembled that of Dravenmoore, and their cabin was nestled into a crowded residential street, sticking out like a sore thumb. “Wait, what’s that?” Bartlebee questioned pointing at a building across the road… another wooden cabin. A second crash made the Party take a few steps back, the front door exploding into a maelstrom of splinters.r />
  “Let’s go everyone,” Golluk suggested as he pushed against the slab of stone that now blocked the doorway. After a few moments of his metal joints creaking and groaning it gave way, moving clear, and letting the Party out of the building they had been trapped in.

  Exiting the building the first thing Kheeta noticed was the sounds and smells that reached her senses immediately; people screaming mixed with various guttural grunting and screeching, the smells were that of fire, death, and a pungent body odor. Her gaze followed her nose found the source with little difficulty, a fifteen foot Troll that stood roughly a hundred yards down the street.

  The beast had sickly green skin, that was covered in patches of mossy fur and strange growths; a large bulbous nose, and two small squinting eyes. A massive under-bite, sporting two large tusks protruding from the bottom jaw, completed the Troll’s ugly visage. It’s legs were short, comparative to his height, and its arms were elongated and scrawny, like those of the Korlax. His claws dug into the rubble of the nearby building it had demolished, launching it through the air with ease.

  That must be how the roof got destroyed, Kheeta thought to herself as they ducked under the latest projectile.

  As soon as Kheeta was done marveling at her first Troll sighting she noticed that the beast was already engaged in combat. Clinging tight to the Troll’s shoulder was Klept; one of his sharp claws sinking into his opponent’s skin like large hooks, as his other, clothed in a bladed glove, stabbed downward repetitively. Every time the Troll would reach up to grab the pesky Stalagpint it would get a ball of light to the face, courtesy of Party five’s own Mage, Soza; who stood a safe distance back next to Caprice, the latter loosing another arrow into the chest of her target. Kheeta’s eyes followed the action to the Troll’s legs were both Lu’ Roe and Tehsugon hacked and slashed away in between carefully timed dodges.