Plunge the Dungeon!
1920 Words
After climbing down to stand in the knee-deep fetid water, the group had been surprised to see skeletons.
Hundreds of them.
All from various humans (or humanoids, Samuel supposed) that had been meticulously gathered, cleaned, and attached to the walls in a macabre looking mosaic design that would give even the most hardened criminal investigator pause if this were to be found in the real world.
Leering skulls were assembled in a wide symbol that was an oblong diamond, the lower half longer than the upper, with horns curling out in warped ulnas and femurs to curl into a demonic visage. The skulls were without mandibles, and the flickering light from their torch revealed that small gemstones had been planted deep within the sockets to give them an unholy appearance of watching the group of adventurers as they walked about the chamber. They were all covered in alien sigils that, most disheartening of all, seemed to vibrate when Samuel focused on them.
With the chamber being a scant twenty feet wide and twenty feet long, the far wall dominated by the disturbing art piece and the back ten feet occupied by the collapsed ceiling, Samuel felt… uncomfortable standing so close to the freakish display.
The group was silent as they stared at the reminder of a hundred adventuring parties abrupt meeting with death for a solid minute before Wheeze smacked his lips.
“Well… tha’ can’t be good, can it?” He drawled, earning a nervous chuckle from Needles.
“Can’t say we’ve ever seen anything like that, can we?” He replied.
Elena let a low whistle slip past her lips. “By Mostef… that can’t be good, can it?”
“No…” Samuel said, mind racing. “It isn’t.”
He wasn’t a fool. This dream was just like any fantasy RPG he’d ever played, and he was aware of the predicament that they were in.
They were in a dungeon, and they were going deeper. This? This meant they were entering a dangerous area. Designers always gave ample warning, and his subconscious was clearly doing the same. The question was, how could he convince the others of this and have them actually believe him? If this were like any horror movie, he’d warn them and say they should turn back, but their greed would make them feel like the risk would be worth it.
He just hoped he didn’t end up getting eaten by whatever made that hellish decoration piece. He knew you couldn’t feel pain in a dream, but… damn, that was scary.
“Just going to throw this out there…” Needles said, gathering their attention. “We got a fat pile of gold upstairs, right? Why not just… leave?”
“We came here to find my Order’s relic.” Skelly replied, tone cold. “I hired you lot for a reason. We’re going to complete this task.”
“Jus’ spit-ballin’, but… why should we?” Wheeze asked, scratching at his stubble. “I mean, yeah, we all agreed ta help ya, but what yer payin’ us is pocket change ta what we found. We take it and cut out; we don’t even need yer pay.”
“You… you all agreed you would do this!” Skelly sputtered, clearly surprised this was even being discussed. “You have to help me!”
“Like Hell we do!” Needles chuckled. “I know a damn warning when I see one, and that?” He motioned to the leering collection of dead heroes. “That’s a pretty big warning.”
Sputtering, Skelly glared at the two warriors. “We’re already here though! We fought that massive Trog and have snuck all the way down here without harm, we can’t just… turn back now!”
“Speak fer yerself!” Wheeze growled. “I got plenty o’ harm up there, or did ya miss the big’un pounding on me like I owed ‘im rent?”
Elena had stepped up to the grisly mural and leaned close, not daring to touch it. Samuel stepped with her, choosing to ignore the three in their heated argument. He spoke softly, catching her attention. “You recognize this?”
“No, not for the life of me.” She replied, eyes locked on the wriggling symbols. “I know a fair bit of history too, which makes this more worrisome. Been around a fair bit too, seen my fair share of old writing. But this? I have no clue what the language is even called, let alone why its so…”
“Twitchy?” Samuel offered when she was struggling for a word.
She nodded. “The fact you see it that way too is bad.”
“How bad?” Samuel asked.
She gave him a look, one that told her how serious she was. “Very. I don’t think this is a mortal tongue.”
“There are other kinds?” Samuel asked.
She nodded. “Lots. The stranger ones can hurt you when you look at them, if you’re not… prepared for them. Mentally, that is.”
“Sounds like something Lovecraft came up with…” Samuel muttered.
She shrugged. “No clue who that is, but if it means we should be wary… you’re right. Something like this? We could be dealing with an Infernal.”
Samuel noted that her words had silenced the argument behind him, prompting him to look. Skelly was frowning while Wheeze and Needles looked like they’d seen a ghost. “You serious?” Needles asked, wetting his suddenly dry lips.
Elena nodded. “Back in Blackheart, my grandmother… she used to deal with them on occasion. Nothing good ever came from it, for anyone involved.”
“An Infernal?” Samuel asked. “That a, what, a demon or something?”
“Or something is right.” Elena explained. “Terra has a protection over it. Prevents otherworldly threats from invading, from killing us all. But there are some that are willing to call such beings here, for whatever reason they think makes such a threat worth it.”
“What are they like?” Samuel asked.
Elena turned and, with fearful eyes, whispered. “Madness incarnate. Shadow and fire, hate and rage, death incarnate… Infernals are wrath given form.”
“Well,” Needles said as everyone took a moment to digest that warning. “My vote is to get the Hell out of here.”
“Seconded.” Wheeze said, raising his burly hand.
Skelly scoffed. “You fools are being frightened by a mutt’s scary stories? You forget that an Infernal wouldn’t remain in one place, or be able to do remain for long, aren’t you?”
Samuel studied Skelly as he spoke, not interrupting him. The old Druid continued. “I’ve fought a few in my time, and while they are as terrible as dear Elena is saying, they cannot remain in our world without fuel.”
“Fuel?” Samuel repeated.
Elena shivered, speaking one word that spoke volumes. “Souls.”
That gave Samuel pause. “Souls? They, what, take them from you after killing you or something?”
“Some of them.” Elena curled in on herself, eyes shadowed and dark. “Some… they plague your mind, and make you see… or hear… things that make you easier to ambush. They make you go mad, and feed on you as your body grows weak and feeble. Grandmother preferred those for her enemies, and for… unruly family members.”
Okay, so her grandmother is apparently a psycho b***h, good to know… Samuel thought, and this thing might not just outright attack us. It might use traps or magic to mess with us. That… makes this whole thing way worse.
“And extra five hundred gold for each of you.”
Skelly’s words made everyone stop their whispering and fretting. They turned to see him leveling a blank stare, lips pressed into a tight frown.
“My Order needs this relic back.” He explained, hands balled into fists at his side. “The possibilities it can offer us… we could bring back hundreds, nay, thousands of extinct plants and animals with it. This isn’t some paltry task, this could help hear the scars Terra has gained over the centuries of abuses the Elves and Dwarves have levied against the natural world in their boundless greed. If I must give away my last few copper to achieve this, I will.”
Whatever their decision would have been was rendered moot as a low and pained groan sighed out from the wall of bones, all of them snapping to stare at the collection of skulls as their eye sockets suddenly blazed with unholy azure light.
“I sense… new life…” a multitude of voices hissed from the ghastly collection of bones, all of them flexing and twisting in place, dust and dirt sprinkling from them as they writhed in place. “A new promise… kindled in the fires of desperation. A bold voice… one that is familiar yet distant… all the same…”
“That can’t be good…” Needles muttered, eyes locked on the hundreds of blazing glares leveled at them.
“Up the rope?” Wheeze asked, already reaching for their escape route.
… only for the rope to come tumbling down into the room with them, severed as if cut with a sharp blade.
“Shit.” Wheeze said, summarizing everyone’s thoughts on the matter.
Elena was beginning to panic, her silver dagger clutched in her dominant hand in a white-knuckled grip. “Nonononononono…” she was chanting under breath, eyes wide and panicked.
“Calm down, all of you!” Skelly snapped, pulling his own club as he readied for… whatever would come after them. “Posnev hasn’t smelled anything, so we’re still safe!”
Posnev, having been silent the entire time, whined with both heads, ears flat and eyes darting back and forth. Samuel sloshed through the water towards the door, swatting Wheeze on the shoulder as he passed him.
“Come on!” He said, stopping at the old wooden door leading out of the room. “Put that sword to use and help me get rid of this door. Only way to get out now is to haul ass before whatever is down here finds us and uses our guts as garters.”
“You paint a lovely picture,” Wheeze groaned, drawing his blade as he followed. “Fer you Skelly? We’ll do it, extra gold never hurts!”
Needles readied his own blade and shield, glowering at the Druid as he followed his friend. “This is gonna suck, I already know it.”
“Just stay alert,” Skelly instructed, reaching out to grab Elena by the arm. “Come on girl, we’re leaving!”
She jerked at his touch, hand twitching almost as if she were going to stab the man. She gave a shaky nod when she realized that it was a friend, and followed along, Posnev taking up the rear with dual whines.
Wheeze began striking the rotted door with his sword, splintering the bloated wood with every blow. After two, he was able to shoulder his way out into the hall, water splashing about as he did so.
“s**t, everything down here is going to hear us coming a mile away!” Needles groused, slinking out behind Wheeze as Samuel followed suit, torch held high.
The hall was narrow, five feet wide and some eight feet high with tapered ceilings. The walls were covered in rotted tapestries and thick layers of mold. The water was dark, rippling away from them as they moved. The passage went north and south, the south path splitting into two side paths at a large door that had clearly seen better days.
“Slinkin’ about is overrated anyway,” Wheeze said, readying his blade just in case something threatening made itself known.
As Samuel raised the torch to shed more light over the hall, he found that something was indeed making itself known.
Rising from the water before them, as well as behind them, were think figures wielding rusted scimitars and moldering shields. Their frames were waterlogged, eyes gone and empty save for a few wriggling maggots greeting the dancing torchlight. The figures, some five of them, had long matted clumps of hair falling from their scalps, flesh pockmarked with rot and decay, and mouths filled with broken, yellowed teeth.
They let out a low, rattling groan before speeding towards the surprised group, Wheeze bellowing as they closed in.
“s**t!” He cried, meeting the advancing group of three from the north. “Needles, we got Barrow Wights!”
- Writer
