Samuel Graves and the Akemic Chronicles

The Dungeon!

The interior of the keep was downright dismal.

It reeked of mold, was damp and cold, and Samuel had tripped into the brackish water five times by the time they entered the first large chamber.

The wide hall that served as the antechamber had led to this room, with two smaller rooms off the side. One had been an armory of some sort, and they’d picked through the rotted weapon and armor racks only to find nothing of value within the chamber. There were several rusted blades, pitted and rotten from disuse and constant exposure to the elements. The second chamber… well, Samuel hadn’t figured it out. Elena and Needles insisted it was a guardroom, but Skelly chimed in to say that he thought the surviving furniture (a large stone table and two benches, some rivets in the wall evenly spaced about two feet apart, and a wall sconce that was bent from something heavy leaning into it) made this a break room.

Wheeze and Samuel, being the two least capable of finding hidden traps, doors, or forgotten treasures, had stood by the entrance and chatted over casual interested between them. Samuel learned some truly horrifying things about the larger man, suddenly gaining a new level of anxiety that he might one day be alone with the guy.

Samuel never saw the appeal of a brothel, but anyone who has been banned from over twenty of them in less than three years had definite problems.

The large chamber they’d entered was likely a grand dining hall, Samuel decided as they climbed over the toppled column that stretched across the entrance. He could hear what sounded like a waterfall close by, and could see a massive, raised stone dais in the back with a door leading further in. Part of the second floor had caved in, probably because of lack of support, somewhere over the center of the chamber. Raising the torch, Samuel whistled at the vantage point he could see when peering up into the rooms were above.

“Huh…” Skelly said, staring towards the center of the room. “That’s new.”

Samuel looked in the direction Skelly was staring at. There was a mountain of rubble rising from the floor, covered in mold and vines.

Wait…

“Are the plants… going deeper?” Samuel asked, stepping forward to get more light over the area.

The light revealed the source of the noise! The collapsed ceiling had broken through to a lower level, shattering into what looked like three smaller chambers. Water drained out of this floor and down into the next in a tumult of smelly fluids. The collected water was just as dirty as everywhere else, preventing him from discerning how deep it was with just a glance.

A meaty paw slapped down on his shoulder, startling him. Turning, he saw Wheeze frowning at him, steering him back towards the group. He looked around and realized he’d walked some ten feet into the chamber to see down the hole!

“Best keep ya back here, eh?” Wheeze chuckled. “No clue where tha traps be, so keep a kee—”

A muted clang interrupted his sentence, punctuated by him stumbling forward. Samuel could barely keep him above water, and from the sheer amount of vulgarity spewing from Wheeze’s mouth, Samuel had a feeling that he may have dodged the proverbial bullet a few moments ago.

 “Wheeze!” He cried, pulling him up to his feet. His right arm gripped his left shoulder, wound around behind his neck, and Samuel got a full whiff of medieval hygiene as the man did his best to stay standing. “What happened? How can I help?”

Skelly, Needles, and Elena rushed forward at the noise. Wheeze glowered down at the water. “Dammit!” He growled. “There’s a goddamned bear-trap here!”

“s**t… Sparrow Creek all over again.” Needles groaned. “Turn around, need to grab my pliers. It hurt worse than the ones the Kjopen used?

“Nah, this ain’t s**t!” Wheeze chuckled, finally righting himself to where he could stand without support. “Think it’s made o’ wood or somethin’. Ain’t got no bite!”

Needles, still rooting around in the bag, spoke up. “Can you yank yourself free? Don’t try, but do you think you could?”

Wheeze slid his leg back and forth, slow and careful. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, “could if I had to.”

“Good… don’t need the good ones, hate using them.” Needles grumbled. “Oi, Mutt!”

Elena scowled and looked around Wheeze. “Yes?” She asked, dreadfully cheerful.

“Find a dry spot. Gonna need to wrap the wound, if it broke skin.” Needles ordered. “Doubt it did, he’s got some great padded greaves, two layers of Worg hide.”

 “Yeesh!” Elena hissed. “How the Hell did he afford that? Whatever, lemme find somewhere we can set-up. Gimme five or ten minutes.”

“Should take just that to get him free.” Needles said, stepping around Wheeze with a tool belt strapped around his waist, a small set of wire cutters in one hand. “Now Wheeze, gonna need you to stay very, very still, okay buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah… make your jokes all you want, just get me out of here!” Wheeze grumbled, arms crossed. He leaned his head back and spoke louder. “Hey El!”

“Yeah?” She called back from deeper in the room. She’d scaled a large piece of rubble to peer around the chamber, her eyes widening as she peered through the darkness.

“Watch out for traps!” He warned, a slight giggle echoing back telling them all she’d heard him.

Samuel stood by next to Skelly, who was staring at the hole in the center of the chamber. He frowned, thinking back on what the aged Druid had said. “Skelly?” He asked quietly, catching the older man’s attention. “You said something earlier, when you saw the hole.”

He thought for a moment before his face lit up in recognition. “Wondering what I meant, are you?”

Samuel nodded. Skelly hummed for a moment before speaking. “Been looking for this place for a while, stopped in Odin’s Throne and checked their archives for any blueprints of this place. Found them after four months of pouring over old building plans. I expected the second floor to remain on the second floor, not push into the basement.”

“Makes sense though, right?” Samuel asked, sparing a glance at Needles as he blindly groped at the underwater bear trap while Wheeze kept making crude jokes about his friend being on his knees. “I mean, old keep out here sinking into the swamp? You’d expect it to be kind of screwed up, right?”

Skelly shook his head. He paused, considering what he would say next for several seconds, before he finally spoke. “You’re really not from this world?”

 “Nope!” Samuel replied, popping the p of the word. “Near as I can figure, I’m dreaming all this.”

“Well, just so you know then… this is a former fortress for a Dwarven noble family. Not their main family territory, mind you, just the home of one of their favored sons.”

“Who lived here?” Samuel asked. He always enjoyed the lore of games, and this one seemed to possess a lot.

“Arcturus Kaine. Born some eight-hundred years ago, he lived a wicked life. Had a brood of children he ran roughshod over, helped fight a few wars, was a skilled Wizard, was found guilty of some forty-three murders after some thirty years of being a roaming killer. He was confined here, imprisoned by his own family. Spent what I imagine are fifty-two long years living in one room with nothing to do but stare at the walls.”

“Sounds like a great guy…” Samuel drawled, shaking his head.

“Kind of standard, for that family anyway.” Skelly shrugged. “The Clan Kaine has deep coffers and thousands of extended family members. Those in the know are aware that the older someone with Kaine blood gets, the crazier and more dangerous they become.”

“Good to know, I suppose.” Samuel said, nodding. “Looks like Needles got Wheeze free.”

“Took them long enough,” Skelly groused, sloshing towards the two. “Hey! He need some first aid?”

Needles, staring at the ensconced leg of Wheeze, lifted out of the water for said examination, shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “Didn’t break through the hide more than half an inch. Now that I know they’re kind of s**t, I’ll just have him slog through them should he find any others.”

“Where’s Elena?” Skelly asked, searching the rest of the hall for her. The torchlight only stretched so far, sadly, so she was lost in the veil of shadows that swallowed over two-thirds of the chamber.

A slight whistle, almost the cry of a young bird, chirped across the room from the darkness. Needles stiffened, drawing the sheathed short sword he had strapped to his back. “Time to party fellas. The Mutt found something!”

Wheeze pulled his blade from where he’d leaned it against the collapsed column. “Now we’re talking… kind of want to crack some skulls now that I found their pitiful excuse of a trap!”

“Let’s go then, lest Elena gets overwhelmed by… whatever she found.” Skelly said, rolling his wrists as he strode up to them. He looked back at Samuel. “Follow Wheeze like we discussed earlier, try to drop anything that comes at you but leave the offense to us.”

“Sounds good.” Samuel said, stepping up behind Wheeze.

The burly warrior sloshed forward, kicking out with his boots to knock back any detritus before him that might be traps of some sort. It was slow going, but they crossed the chamber by hugging the walls after an awfully slow minute. They slowed their advance when they caught sight of Elena. She was hiding behind a slab of roof that had fallen against the dais, her lithe frame pressed against it to keep herself as out of sight as she could be. And standing over the stone, snorting and growling, was a massive Trog.

“Well then…” He growled, steaming spittle drooling from his massive jaws. His eyes narrowed and he hefted up the largest double-handed swords Samuel had ever seen. “Looks like I get a fresh meal this time. Lovely way to start a day, isn’t it?”

And then he roared, feral and loud, before leaping off the slab into the air at them, sword stretched out wide.