“Well, old friend, any idea what these might be?”
Grumph stared at it, trying to match the symbols with anything he’d managed to understand in the spellbook. There were a few bits he could put together, but a complete comprehension was beyond his reach.
“Not sure,” Grumph said after several minutes of study. “But probably not dangerous.”
“‘Probably’ seems pretty risky when dealing with unknown magic,” Eric pointed out.
“Aye, but one must consider the source,” Thistle replied. He lowered the white sheath-belt to the ground then set about the task of unfastening the lesser one currently strapped to his waist. “Sierva was a friend, one who helped save my life, so if Grumph says the magic is probably not dangerous, that’s enough for me.”
As Thistle worked to change out his belt, the area around the mouth of cave grew crowded once more. Now that the first team had broken through, other adventurers were making their own entrances, lest they be left behind.
“Okay, you’ve entered the dungeon. Since the paths form rings, you have two directions you can go; which one do you want to choose?” Russell stared at his group with a worried expectation. Getting them to the dungeon had been hell on earth; now that they were finally in, he just knew they were going to find a way to screw things up.
“Which way did the others go?” Terry asked. He’d been rolling checks to evaluate as much of the other adventurers’ equipment as possible.
“You can only see the two other parties who entered at the same time as you,” Russell said. He picked up the module book to double check the information he was about to dole out. This one had a lot to keep track of, so he didn’t want to mess anything up. “Each one went off in one of the two directions.”
“How many are still outside the entrance?” Mitch asked.
“Let me see. The first one went in a while ago, then you guys entered with two more, so that makes four, leaving two more groups outside for a total of six parties.” Russell’s eyes flicked down to the book on instinct and he realized he’d made an error. “Wait: seven parties. There’s one more group that still hasn’t entered.”
“Way to fuck up,” Glenn said. “I think it’s GM retcon. He just wanted to add another team to up the competition.”
“Glenn, I misread something, that’s all.” It was strange, though; Russell had carefully gone through this book when he started and he was certain there had only been five parties besides the one that his group would be playing. Luckily, it was an easy enough mistake to fix, as long as none threw the kind of tantrum Glenn looked like he was gearing up for.
“Don’t worry about it, Glenn. This is actually a good thing,” Mitch said. He was leaning over the map carefully, examining the small figurines representing their characters. His eyes darted along the drawn bits of the map, eagerly drinking in every detail.
“How is it a good thing? You know Russell will try and make one of them get the artifact first.”
“It’s a good thing because one more party means one more set of loot,” Mitch explained. “We’re not going to do like these other guys and try to wade through the dungeon for treasure. Our party is going to take a far more proactive approach.”
20.
“It’s cleaner than I was expecting.” Gabrielle’s eyes wandered down the spacious stone walls and floors, all of which were easily visible thanks to the presumably magic light-casting gems embedded in the walls at regular intervals. Despite purportedly having been lost for time untold, the dungeon showed no signs of dirt, degradation, or disrepair. It was like the whole thing had been built only days before.
“Magic,” Grumph surmised, eloquently explaining the entirety of the situation quite well.
“Aye, but it must be powerful magic for it to have persisted for so long. We’d best be careful.”
The party had waited until the sun was dipping low on the horizon — long after the other teams had taken the plunge — before finally entering the dungeon. In truth, they might have pressed their time a bit more, but the guards were starting to get fidgety and keep their weapons close at hand. Once in, the act of making their way through the dungeon had been fairly easy. Thanks to their knowledge of the dangers, the small dart trap and explosive runes along their path were easily skirted. The route they’d chosen had evidently been infested by monsters, but judging by the giant vermin corpses they passed at irregular intervals, the other adventurers had already seen to that particular challenge.
“What do we have coming up?” Eric asked. He was at the head of the line, his attentive stare sweeping for any indicators of unexpected obstacles. Yes, they had forewarning on the traps, and the monsters should have all been killed, but he wasn’t one to discount the possibility of pure bad luck assaulting them.
“Spike pit,” Grumph said. While they’d all studied the map, he’d clearly retained the best mental impression of it. “After next corner.”
“A spike pit, you say?” Thistle ran his hands along the seam of his new belt as his mind whirled furiously. This idea he had, this theory, it was utter madness. The dungeon he was in had been crafted ages ago, built with such precision that no adventurer had made it further than halfway through. There was no possible way his hunch could be accurate… except… except…
Except that minions, whether now, then, or in the future, would always be minions. And Thistle knew how minions worked.
“When we get to the spike pit, there’s something I want to do,” Thistle announced.
“Got some trash to dump?” Gabrielle asked, the smile on her face a stark contrast to their grim surroundings.
“Not quite. Do you recall earlier, when I said I had an errant thought? Well, I think the time has come to put it to the test.”
“Could you possibly be more cryptic?” Eric said.
“Sorry, just don’t want to say it out loud and jinx it,” Thistle replied. “But, before we get there, everyone open your packs. We’re going to need a fair bit of rope.”
“There are just so few ways this can possibly be a good thing,” Gabrielle said. Still, she pulled her pack around and opened it up, just as Grumph and Eric did. Caginess and odd requests aside, Thistle’s ideas were a key part of what had gotten them this far. They weren’t about to start ignoring them now.
As Thistle’s group grabbed rope, another team was clutching onto hope. In the third ring of the dungeon, the first team of adventurers had encountered a pack of barghests that were tearing through them. Their pugilist was down, as was their knight. The only ones still standing were the wizard and the archer, though standing didn’t come easy as their clothes were already slick with blood from their wounds.
“What the hell, why can’t we land a damn hit?” the archer swore. “This is such bullshit.”
“I know, the odds against this are nuts,” the wizard agreed. “I think the dice are cursed. But I’ve got a plan: can you buy me two rounds?”
“Maybe; I’m pretty low on Health Points. What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got one good spell left, and the hit difficulty for it is so low I’m sure to connect, even with our shitty rolls.”
“Fine,” the archer agreed. “It’s the best option we’ve got so far.” With that, he took off in a charge, firing arrows at a rapid clip. Despite his skill and proficiency with the bow, each arrow went wide, nowhere near making contact with the beasts. The only saving grace was that his effort succeeded in drawing attention away from the wizard. The dog-like monsters surged forward, closing in around him.