by Wolfe Locke
John was hurting. He was in bad shape. His ribs ached and the way his breathing sounded, John was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was broken and likely pressing against a lung. He hurt too bad to care that he had failed to secure the key to leave.
The key now lay in the pot with the boiling remains of the dead king. Maybe I can fish it out later, but for now. I need to rest. I’m so tired.
He didn’t bother to resist as his eyes began to droop and close.
A feeling of warm calm spread throughout his body, seeming to urge and coax him away from the edge that he was teetering on. His eyes snapped open again as energy coursed through him. Before him was the woman he had saved, her hand on his head. She’s glowing.
The woman’s eyes had been replaced by pools of pale blue light. Her eyes full and blessed by magic. Not human.
The glow grew brighter as John struggled to focus. The energy that was being pouring into him seeped into every part of his body, and with it a sensation of pain as his ribs were knitted back together and snapped back into place.
When it was done, she stared at him and said, “Thank you traveler, adventurer, hero, for wresting me from the hands of that foul creature. Long have I been imprisoned here.”
“What are you?” John asked in response as he bathed in the ethereal presence. A god?
“I am a sliver of divinity, although my vessel is unaware of my presence. I am a fragment of an ancient god, and it was my ring that gave the Gluttonous King his ability to resist damage to his body. Though it was not I who corrupted him”
“What are you doing here, in this place?” John asked in wonderment.
“Like you, I was trapped here, though now I am bound deeper still within the dungeon. This sliver was my own chance at freedom, and now I once again may try to escape. Now I offer you a gift, that which was stolen from me before, though much of its power has faded with the death of the king who had corrupted it.”
The woman reached down to John’s hand and grabbed the ring. Then, she slid it onto his finger. It closed around it until the ring fit perfectly.
“This is my ring, it is called the Ring of Temperance. It will do for you what it did for the king but once. Though you at least will have my blessing and favor to do so.”
The ring pulsed with a faint blue light, a light that had not been displayed for the king who had worn it.
“Take it, and let it help you on your way further down.” She promised.
“I don’t suppose that you could help me get out of here.” John asked, already knowing the answer.
“Alas, I cannot. If I was but my full being, maybe. But I am just a fragment. My true self lays further below. I would be able to lend you more aid. All I can do is thank you with what I have.”
“What will you do now?” John asked. “Should you travel with me? I can try to take you to the surface.”
“The way is shut to you, but I have my ways. This sliver will leave this place. The force which was keeping it bound has vanished. Continue with my blessing, John Younger.” she said.
With a gesture, the fragment of a god exerted some of her power. From the still steaming pot came the key that would let him through the next door.
“Your challenges have been many and difficult thus far. Know that you have drawn the attention of not just one, but three gods in the course of your journey. Even though one was but a fragment, and the other works toward your destruction. Be wary. It will only get more difficult from here on out.”
Anything else that John was about to say was cut off as the kitchen was flooded with bright white light. John shielded his eyes, and when he opened them again, she was gone.
You have gained my favor. I am the Goddess of Earthly Delights. I have given you a ring with part of my essence within, the Ring of Temperance. This ring greatly increases your durability. You will need it in the floors below.
John Younger grabbed the key out of the air and walked over to the door and unlocked it. I don’t know why this is happening to me, or why I’m here, but I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll figure it out. The whims of these old gods were unknown to him.
All John could do was play with the hand that he had been dealt.
John had always been a survivor and he would continue to do so until his very last breath.
Curious though, very curious. John had never met a god before. Now, he had come into contact with multiple gods. Well at least two and a fraction, he supposed.
He moved his shoulders, trying to ease the building tension in his back. John felt like things would continue to spiral out of his control. I never would have thought to prepare for something like this. ´
John descended down the stairs, blessed axes in hand, and the Ring of Temperance on his finger. Once again, his only companion was the sound of his boots on the stone steps. What lay below was unknown, but he would continue. He had no other choice. If he wanted to get to the bottom of this and escape with his life, he would have to keep going. As she said, the way is shut to me.
So, he forged ahead, deeper into the belly of the beast. Always deeper.
Chapter 14: The Place of Bones
* * *
* * *
Complete. You have survived the Halls of the Gluttonous King. Though you are not quite as unscarred as you were before, the experience has left you more cautious. I can see that. This will be something that shapes you.
Hmm… you seemed to have gained some of the fallen Paladin’s wisdom, the agility of the unworthy, and some of the strength and endurance of the Gluttonous King. You did well to resist the compulsion to feed.
STR = 6 > 10
WIT = 1 > 3
END = 7 >15
AGI = 2 > 7
Abilities
*Smite - Upon killing an unclean one, the spirit of what is holy will be stored within your body. Use this power to amplify the holy effect of any attack you should unleash on the unclean.
Ailments
*Fear of the Dark
Equipment
*Blessed Axes, Simple Leather Armor, Sovereign Medallion , Ring of Temperance*
Items
Book: The Book of Keys
Torn Page
Gluttonous Essence x1
Minotaur’s Essence x3
So, I’m stronger, but I don’t really feel it. I feel tired mostly. John Younger was plunged deeper into the dungeon. His footsteps echoing off the increasingly narrow steps of the stairwell. The only source of light he had was the glow from his blessed axes.
Although his encounter with the fragment of the goddess had left his body whole and healthy once more, John had grown weary. This is a lot for anyone. A lesser man would have died already. I’ve been through a lot before, but this is on an entirely different level.
It truly was on another level. John was an adventurer and a warrior. He often found himself in precarious and dangerous situations. But nothing like this, not even once.
So far, his time in this dark dungeon of whatever old gods called it home had become the single most horrible experience of his life. He’d already almost died a handful of times. He had encountered monsters and horrors that he never would have thought existed, much less encountered, and he had been spoken to by several gods, or at least things claiming to be gods.
John felt exhausted, hungry, and cold. They had pushed him to his breaking point more than once, but whenever something happened that made John think this is the end, something else would happen that made him whole. His body had been healed not once, but twice. He only wished that it also worked on his mind. John was feeling exhausted.
Coming so close to death so many times was starting to take a toll on John. He could feel it grating on his nerves, the constant tension rubbing between his shoulder blades with anxious energy. He was on edge. The gods had a cruel way of dealing with those that, unfortunately, had found themselves within their domain. But why I am here? Is it to be a sacrifice or a conqueror?
Is it the Regent’s quest? What of the other adventurers? If the challenges that each floor brought him didn’t end in his death, John suspected the strain on his mind would.
But for now, John held on and pushed those thoughts deep within himself. Down he went in the only direction, he could go, further into the abyss and whatever doom awaited him.
On some level, John was beginning to suspect he wasn’t going to make it out alive. But he wasn’t ready yet to stop and submit, to lay down like a dog and die. I won’t give whoever forced me to be here the satisfaction. I refuse to die in this place. I refuse.
“I'll keep going until my body gives out. It'll take more than a few broken bones to stop me." He promised out loud. "I won't die."
I have heard your promise and I am with you. You will not go forward alone. I will always be with you.
Who? The pale white light from his axes briefly flashed. When it was done, John looked down to find his blessed axes had changed in appearance . The edges appeared sharper, the handle sturdier, and images he couldn't quite make out in the dark adorned the hilts.
What was yours has been changed. May these thrice blessed axes serve you well. You must survive.
"Thank you," John said with a nod. Even with the increased glow, he didn't try to stop and inspect for secret passages or hidden exits. This place has secrets, but none here. None where danger doesn't lurk. It wouldn't be so easy.
John's trusted thrice blessed axes, and the new Ring of Temperance on his finger was the only proof he had so far that he had not been truly only in the dark.
Dark forces and gods are at work here in the dungeon. John could feel it. Their power and blessings hummed in his hands. One blessing bestowing both light and extra damage against monsters, while the ring fortified his body in a way that armor never could.
If the Gluttonous King had been any indication, the Ring of Temperance would help to keep John alive. It would have been helpful in my fight against the minotaurs for sure.
He would have to be careful with that ability. Durability was not the same as indestructibility. And if what I heard was correct, it won't protect me the same way or the extent to which it did that monster.
After descending for what felt like an eternity, John began to see a pale light as he came to the landing that led to the next floor.
He stopped briefly and breathed a deep with a sigh and sent up a silent prayer to any god that may be willing to help, and he clutched his weapons closer.
When John reached the bottom of the stairs, the landing led to a large archway, and through it, he beheld his next challenge.
The room was large and square. Like the rest of those he had encountered, it was made of stone all around, with no windows or other exits in sight save for the other side of the room.
That exit, however, was different. Before, each path to the next floor had been blocked by a wooden door. John would need to find the key and continue his journey deeper into the dungeon. The exit to this floor was a massive wrought-iron gate. The gaps between the bars were not big enough to slip through. Of course, that would have been too easy.
The bars of the gate were thick. Easily the width of John's arm, and it was crossed lengthwise with metal bands. It also did not have any type of keyhole. Different indeed.
Around the room in a circle were six brightly burning braziers which were the source of the light that John had seen from above. The pits of fire were arranged meticulously, each of them equidistant from the other. They all burned with fire, sending sparks into the air from the crackling wood that fueled them.
John broke out into a light sweat while he was surveying the room. The heat that the braziers gave off was immense. He realized his mouth had grown parched. I'll need water soon. If he had to stay here for long, then dehydration would become an issue.
In the center of the ring of braziers was a lit torch on a stand. Its fire was different than that of the braziers. It had a faint white glow to it, almost as if it were purer. It burned steadily, not like the wild ferocity of the braziers.
The everlasting flames cannot be extinguished. Though the braziers it lights will only burn for a time. Be wary, this place belongs to another. Many wait to see how you do here.
I'll remember that. Scattered throughout the room were bones. They were of varying shapes and sizes, but John could tell they were all human. Some of them looked older than others. The stark white of the new giving way to the brown of the old. They were scattered without any pattern or reason to them.
There had been bones on the last floor too, but these are different, those had been the result of the Gluttonous King’s insatiable appetite and had come from the unfortunate souls that had been taken to the dungeon before John himself.
The unworthy had butchered the others and fed them to their vile ruler. Their broken bones were all that remained and were on the floor after. The nameless dead.
He was troubled. He hoped that he was not looking upon the remains of other people like him. Others who'd made it this far but traveled no further. This floor held at least double the number of bones than the previous one.
I hope that there’s another explanation for this, but I can’t be foolish enough to believe it. These bones belonged to people like me. People who had managed to survive the perils up to this point and had still been killed. Something deadly and dangerous is here.
What hope do I really have of escaping? Of getting through this. John was a capable man, but what made him more capable than any of the others? Doubt leeched into his heart.
He was not sure. But if that was the case. If all of these others had been just like him, then he would see this through until the end. His resolve to see this through grew within him until it almost seemed its own presence. John did not know what manner of god or monster awaited him in the end, but if it could even be killed, he was willing to try. Better then dying running.
But first, he had to take the next step. Always the next step.
Chapter 15: The Risen Horde
* * *
I’ve got a bad feeling about this floor. I can’t linger long. John couldn’t help but notice the goose flesh that stood up on his skin. Every part of his body screamed at him to run.
Like every other floor before, this newest floor was likely to culminate in some sort of puzzle. There had to be some way to get the gate on the other side opened.
Tentatively, John waded down into the pit of bones. The ground was almost completely covered in white. There were enough of the bleached remains that even though he was careful, his footsteps still kicked up some bones that then went to bounce against others.
The rattle of bones on bones was unnerving. It was something that John never wanted to hear again. I wonder if this is what it feels like to swim through the river of the dead?
Gradually, he made his way toward the torch. If the voice was right, and the torch was ever burning, then that was where John wanted to be.
There had not been many instances of true light thus far, but each of them had meant a safe haven for him. The light of the god of lost warriors who had originally blessed his weapons, as well as the light of the fragment of a goddess that he had met.
Best to go along with what’s proven to work for me. John thought with a nod of appreciation towards the weapons he carried. This light means something. It’ll help keep me alive.
John shrugged the thought away. No need to make a good thing more complicated I won’t bite the hand that feeds me.
When John was near the torch, he sheathed one of thrice blessed axes and reached out for the torch. The glow of it felt warm, but not hot. How odd that here in the center next to the brightest torch, the heat of this place is the most bearable.
When his fingers had just barely brushed the handle of the torch, a flash of energy flooded the room. A reminder of the dread and dark power that governed this place. Triggered? Maybe. But something
like that was going to happen, anyway.
Having experienced the energy flash so often in such little time, John had noticed all the effects that the surge in power had on him, and the feeling that wrought in him.
The hairs on John’s body stood on end and his skin erupted with goosebumps. It was as if a deep and unsettling cold had traveled up his spine and throughout the rest of his body. His breath appeared in visible puffs of white as the room rapidly cooled down.
The feeling that came along with it was a deep sense of wrongness. A sense of feeling on edge, as if a thousand eyes were upon him. This is more than magic. This is unnatural.
That surge of power from the torch rooted John to the spot. He stood with his arm outstretched as the torch blazed again while his other hanging rigid at his side where he held one of his axes. The only thing that he could move were his eyes, and he scanned around the room.
On the far side of the room, the wrought iron gate began to ascend. John now saw that the bottom was lined with sharp iron spikes that slotted into grooves in the ground. It kept pulling upwards until the stairs on the other side were illuminated clearly. But why? Is it a trick? I can just walk out?
Then, all at once the braziers went out, and the gate fell with a loud crash. Yeah. A trick. It was freezing. The dramatic shift in the temperature of the room was a shock. Where before he had been openly sweating, now the air was cold and frigid on his skin.
The message was clear enough. If he wanted the gate to open again, then John had to relight the braziers. That must have been what the torch was for. But of course, it was not as simple as that.