Run #3
A tear leaked from Rogue1’s eye as he awoke, supine on the dungeon floor. It rolled down the side of his head and settled precariously on his ear. His lip trembled as he stared at the blackness above. Gingerly, he felt around the base of his neck; he felt the fresh, lumpy scars that crossed his collarbone and continued over his shoulder. A faint pain touched the memory of being decapitated by a monster that pretended to be a chest.
Another tear leaked out, but he could not understand why the tears were coming. Were the tears from the deception of finding something helpful only to be ravaged in the end? Or were they in mourning that his former beauty was being marred and destroyed again and again with every failure he faced?
I will be a monster of scars before this thing is done.
Rogue1 wept as he mourned the loss of the one thing he had held onto. Not wanting to know if he could ever be beautiful again, the rogue pulled the hood deep over his head and rose to face the respawn point.
>Welcome, Rogue1, to your last Respawn Point. >You have 6 Upgrade Points available. Would you like to use them now?
“Will those points give me back what I’ve lost?”
The text did not respond to his query.
“Fuck it. Show me what you got.” He hoped it would be enough to distract him from his depressive state.
Rogue1’s Hero Sheet scrolled across the light column, and ‘6’ pulsated glowingly in the UP section. He forcibly ignored the defining traits section recommendations offered by the light. Dodge and Staves, two skills he felt were most helpful in preventing another death. However, the blue light indicated that neither skill could be upgraded until the associated attribute was first upgraded to the appropriate level.
Focusing on the appropriate attributes, Strength and Dexterity, Rogue1 could see that each required 4 UP to be upgraded. With 6 UP, he could only choose one of the attributes to upgrade. He suddenly realized he was feeling the scars around his neck and pushed his arm down to his side. Gritting his teeth, he focused hard on using the upgrade points.
>Dexterity upgraded to level 4 (-4 UP) >Dodge upgraded to 1d4 (-1 UP)
There was 1 UP left, but Rogue1 did not know what to do with it, so he left it pulsating and exited the Hero Sheet.
>Would you like to save your progress at this Respawn Point?
(Note: Saving your progress will fully heal all Moxie strikes and respawn all NPCs to their original starting location.)
Rogue1 acknowledged the save and stepped out of the light column. His staff was on the floor, in front of two open and one closed chest. His lip curled in anger at the chests, and he quickly snatched up his staff.
Next chance, I’m going to upgrade my Staves skill and figure out how to kill you fuckers.
He jabbed the closed chest with his staff, just to be sure. When nothing happened, he kicked it open, and the same four items revealed themselves. He paused for a moment watching the Healing kit slowly spin. But the memory of the pit trap guarding the only unlocked door in the room prompted him to secure the Lockpicking kit once again.
As the rogue looked around, he felt a particular comfort realizing this first room remained unchanged. Up ahead in the corner to the left was the first door he had tried, where he fell into a pit trap and burned to death. That memory brought an involuntary shudder, causing him to reflexively turn to the next door. This one was in the middle of the wall to his right—it led to the warning, “Beware the spiders.” The third and last door was behind him to the left—this was the last door he had not attempted to open. Curious and feeling like it would be a disservice to not try this door, Rogue1 turned about and headed for the last exit from this room.
Not trusting an untested door, Rogue1 began his trap detection routine. Rap the floor—click. Suddenly, a net sprung up from below—the rogue jumped in an awkward backflip, twisting clumsily through the air. The net rose quickly, scooping all the air above it and knocking the staff out of the Rogue1’s grip. He thumped ungraciously to the floor and looked up; surprised and ecstatic, he managed to dodge another trap. As the rogue retrieved his staff, a drop fell to the stone floor and sizzled. Looking up again, he saw more drops fall to the ground, hissing angrily and marring the floor below. Shaking his head, Rogue 1 was grateful that death by acid net was one less set of scars he had to worry about.
Looks like that Dodge upgrade may have been worth the points.
The rogue walked around the pattering and hissing drops of acid and pressed himself close to the door—it was locked.
“Great.” Rogue1 quietly scoffed as he attempted to feel the door for extra traps. “A trapped door that’s also locked.”
Not feeling any other triggers, Rogue1 withdrew his lockpicking kit and went to work. He heard the familiar click and pop, followed by tension being released from the door. Slowly, he opened the door and saw a hallway to his left. Aside from the familiar torches, nothing unusual appeared in the hallway. Taking in a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, Rogue1 stepped into the hallway and let the door close behind him.
With a slow and steady pace, Rogue1 walked down the hall, tapping different points of the floor with his quarterstaff as he took each step. It was a rhythmic way to travel, yet that rhythm brought a comforting familiarity as he still felt very blind to any traps.
I should probably look into some kind of trap detection skill, he thought as he continued to walk and tap down the hall.
The corridor ended with a locked door to the right, and the routine commenced. Rap the floor, wap the door, and feel the edge—nothing. Rogue1 felt confident the door was not rigged with a trap and quickly worked the lock. The door opened, and the rogue stepped through (after checking the floor of this next room). To his frustrated surprise, Rogue 1 found himself in another familiar room.
Two doors to the left, two doors on the opposite wall, and no doors to the right.
This is the room with the hanging skeletons.
He was sure of it; however, no skeletons were hanging in the empty corner to his right. The room felt very hollow.
The rogue quickly moved to the door on the left wall and picked the lock to confirm that the next room had the floating message.
“Beware the spider”
The message still floated in the other just like he had left it, though the rogue paused for a moment as he quietly re-read it.
“Spider, not spiders. Has it always been only one spider?”
Not feeling any better about needing to watch out for a single little spider, as opposed to many spiders, he let the door close and turned to the two doors at the far wall. The one to the left could potentially lead him back to the spiders (or spider?); the one to the right was rigged with a trap and could lead him to a man-eating chest. However, he was pretty sure the one to the right had another hallway he could turn down and, hopefully, avoid any rogue-eating chests and dangerous spiders. He headed toward the door on the right.
Rap, wap—dodge. The bolts whistled through the air as Rogue1 deftly stepped out of their trajectory. Smiling that he was getting the hang of this, he quickly opened the door and moved down the hallway. He paused at the T-intersection and was about to turn right, away from the monster chest, but something caught his eye—something at the edge of the torchlight. He hesitated.
Is that a glove?
The rogue looked to where he should be going, looked back where he had come, then looked at the edge of the torchlight—in the direction of the cursed chest. The dungeon did not seem to change every time he was brought back from the dead, so seeing a gloved hand brought his paranoid curiosity to the front. Unsure what new trickery this was, Rogue1 readied his staff and crept closer to the glove, craning his neck to get a better look. As the torchlight receded, he could see the gloved hand was connected to a sleeved arm, and the arm led to a shoulder with leather armor around a torso, but the torso was without a head.
Rogue1 did not move from his crouched position. He stared dumbly at the lifeless, decapitated body that had been him, alive and fighting for his life just a moment ago. What manner of trickery was going on in this place that allowed such atrocity? How could he be alive yet staring down at his dead body? What kind of sick hell did he get thrown into?
His stomach lurched as emotions and thoughts overloaded his body. The world started to spin, and the rogue grabbed the stone wall for balance. When that didn’t work, he let his back thump against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. When Rogue1 opened his eyes and looked up, he realized the torch was back in its sconce. Despite how small this detail was compared to his current state of mind, he welcomed the minute distraction.
How the fuck did that get back up there?
He let the gentle glow and cackle of the fire overhead encompass his senses. Though he did not get an answer to his unspoken question, the gentle sway and flicker of the flames at least held the distraction he needed from the moment. That distraction, however, was interrupted by a low grumble from beyond the shadows.
A deep, fathomless groan emanated from the darkness ahead, breaking Rogue1 from his trance and bringing awareness back to his current state. His eyes fell from the shadows and back to his body. Despite the grotesqueness of his remains, the rogue’s gaze became locked on the gaping wound his head once filled. His hand instinctively went to his collar and neck, feeling the jagged line of smooth, lumpy scars—he forcefully pushed his hand down and focused on the body, unsure of what to do next.
>Choose one.
>Leave a message
Leave a message for you and future Heroes. Messages are limited to five words and will remain so long as other Heroes deem them useful.
>Loot the corpse
Retrieve undamaged items left behind by the deceased.
This was unexpected. He contemplated the text above the body for a moment before glancing back into the shadows ahead. The monster chest was just ahead in the darkness; though he tried to see it, the dark was impenetrable. Quiet, unsettling silence protruded from the darkness, invaded the torchlight, and threatened to ensnare the one who challenged it. Rogue1 grunted in retaliatory anger, interrupting the silence, and turned back to his corpse.
Maybe this is where the spider message came from? Was someone here before me? Is someone else here right now?
Too many questions and nowhere to turn for answers. Rogue1 refused to linger and decidedly chose to loot his corpse. His staff and lockpicking kit floated translucent above the body, much like the items floated above the open chests from the first room. He retrieved both items, then saw his body rapidly disintegrate to nothingness. He felt like he should feel something for the loss of his dead body, but merely felt anger stack upon anger as he felt the same as what was left of his body—nothing.
Rising from the empty space, the rogue quietly stepped away from the threat in the dark. He held two staves in one hand as he placed the second lockpicking kit in his breast pocket. Rogue1 was surprised at how well the second kit fit in this pocket when he already had a kit there. Not wanting to think about which lockpicking kit was the first, he focused on the staves, holding one in each hand.
So far as he could tell, the staves were identical. He would have attempted to inspect the two long sticks more closely, but another low grumble from the darkness prompted the rogue to quickly move towards his intended direction—away from the chest and down the hallway he had not yet traveled.
Rogue1 walked past the intersection while attempting another inspection of his two staves but paused when he realized he was walking past a second intersection. His attention shifted as he looked down the second hallway, then stepped back a few paces to look down the first intersection. He paced back and forth a couple times, attempting to discern the difference between the two hallways, and eventually cursed at the futility of his effort. Shaking his head in frustration, Rogue1 began walking down the second intersection to see where it might lead.
He walked briskly down the hallway, alternating which stick tapped the floor ahead of each step. The tapping did not echo, but the sound accentuated the emptiness of the hall. He tried to find reassurance in that emptiness, suggesting it meant no threats were ahead. The hall turned sharply left, and shortly after, there was a door to his right. Even though the corridor continued, Rogue1 was curious to see what was beyond this door.
Rap the floor, wap the door, feel the edge—no sign of traps. A shove of the door confirmed it was locked. Glancing quickly to his left and right confirmed the same monotonous darkness a couple torch-lengths away in either direction. Grateful to not hear growling or scuffling from either direction, the rogue knelt down and got to work. With a simple pop and click, the door opened, and Rogue1 cautiously entered the room.
A door was in the opposing wall almost directly in front of him; to the left was another door in the side wall. A chest sat innocently in the center of the otherwise empty room. Rogue1 let out a tight exhale as he fiercely gripped a staff in each hand; all attention was funneled toward the chest in the middle of the room. He wasn’t sure how he would fight with a staff in each hand, but the rogue refused to let go of anything that might give him a chance of not dying. Semi-crouched, he moved steadily along the closest side wall, holding one staff out front to block any unsuspecting attack and holding the other high over his head, ready to strike.
He reached the opposing door with the chest not making sound nor movement. But there was a sound nearby—the sound of a trigger, quickly followed by the movement of the floor below.
His feet lost their perch, and he twisted and lurched. Using the staff to push his momentum forward, he crashed and rolled on solid ground, narrowly evading the gaping pit trap. Rogue1 rolled a few more times for good measure, then leaped to his feet. With both hands, he swung down and cracked his staff hard against the stone floor, yelling with defiant rage at the trap that tried to swallow him whole. He hit the floor several more times, screaming each time, and nearly flung his staff at the trap but managed to keep his grip on the lifesaving stick, eventually spinning to the ground in frustration.
He sat on the floor for a moment, breathing hard while tightly twisting the grip of his long stick. Grumbling curses, he stared hard at the open pit when he suddenly realized his second staff was lying precariously over the trap. Frowning, he turned and quickly jumped to his feet in surprise—he was right next to the chest in the center of the room.
Staff at the ready, he faced the unmoving chest. Remembering the last chest did not move until he had hit it, the rogue readied himself. Rap the floor—that was for good measure. Nothing happened. Mustering all the force of his arm, he wapped the staff hard against the chest. The sound of wood slapping against wood resounded in the empty room, but nothing else happened. The rogue remained guarded, waiting for something to happen.
Wap to the left, right, and jab to the center—each attack intending to cause pain to the chest. Yet, each strike did not elicit a response. Rogue 1 relaxed slightly and poked hard at the chest, just in case. Still nothing. Carefully, he touched the chest, then quickly recoiled in anticipation of an attack. Still nothing. Quickly, he worked the latch on the chest, flung it open, then jumped back with staff at the ready. Instead of a giant maw of teeth, a familiar display opened before him, much like he had seen with the first three chests he had encountered.
>Choose one.
>[B] Dagger
Made of metal and well-balanced. No special attributes are associated with this item. Requires [Blades] skill for optimal use.
>[B] Mask
Ideal for those who desire to be unseen. Requires a skill based in [Dexterity] or [Magic] for optimal use.
>[P] Healing kit
Ideal for mending wounds and resuscitating companions. Requires [Healing] skill for optimal use.
Rogue1 let his breath out slowly, still half-expecting some sort of trap or monster to emerge. He inched forward to look more closely at the contents of the chest.
Another Healing kit. Is the dungeon trying to tell me something?
The rogue considered the dagger for a moment; however, he did not like the idea of parting with the long stick that had helped save his life multiple times now. The mask was interesting, if only because it was a third option, but it was also the only option that seemed to match his current skill set. He did not have a Blade skill nor a Healing skill, but he did have a skill under his Dexterity attribute—he figured that ought to count for something.
He stretched his hand, switching to a one-handed grip of his staff, and shook the free hand. He felt the tight, fire-scarred skin under his glove. As the memory of flames crept across the back of his mind, he felt his face. Despite wearing a leather glove, he could still feel the deformities left on his once beautiful skin. Scarred and gaunt, his touch recoiled as the firey memory swept over him. In that instant, he swiped the mask and watched the other items disintegrate.
The mask matched the green of his armor and fit easily over the lower half of his face—it was the perfect covering. With the hood up and mask on, only his eyes could be seen. Hiding in the depths of his self-created shadows smothered the fire in his mind; with the fire quieted, a slight smile peaked under his new mask.
With a new face and renewed resolve, Rogue1 scanned the room for his next direction of travel. Three doors, one he came from and the other two led to the unknown. One of the unknown doors had an open pit trap in front of it, with his second staff still balancing over the pit’s edge. He looked from the pit trap door to the safer-looking door. His mouth twisted in deliberation over that second long stick. With a reaffirming grip of the staff in hand, Rogue1 turned toward the safer door.
I don’t even know how I’d use a second staff .
Rap, wap, and feel. Nothing—
Wait a second!
Rogue1 had started to withdraw his hand but halted. He felt something at the top edge of the door—it felt like a taunt string.
Is this a trap?
Rogue1 waivered slightly on his toe as he attempted to hold his position while silently deliberating what he should do next. He wouldn’t go back to facing that pit trap. Maybe he could go back the way he came. If he withdrew his hand, would that spring the trap?
There’s one easy way to find that answer.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The rogue positioned himself toward one edge of the door, took a couple quick, readying breaths, then withdrew his hand, pulling the string.
The string snapped as Rogue1 leaped away from the door. He was mid-leap, sailing through the air, when the door was bombarded by something large and heavy on the other side. The impact reverberated through the door, and splinters flew out in all directions.
Rogue1 skidded back in his landing, arm up to shield his eyes from the splinters. When the debris settled, the rogue saw part of a giant curved blade poking through the center of bent iron and broken wood of what used to be an old, heavy dungeon door. He approached the ruined door and felt the sharpness of the protruding blade, grateful it came from the side of the door he was not on. However, as he attempted to open the door, he found that it would only slightly open in its ruined state. The rogue pulled and heaved against the door, but the giant axe-like trap in the door seemed to keep it from opening wider than a fist. Rogue 1 peered through the opened crack, hoping to see something on the other side.
It was difficult to see anything, but he was sure the door led to another torchlit hallway. Stepping back, Rogue1 placed his staff in the door’s opening, set his foot on the wall, then cranked back with all his strength, using the staff as a lever, to open the door.
The door suddenly snapped, and the rogue flailed to the ground as a large wooden slab broke free of the door. Rogue1 stood and dusted himself off, musing at the result of his efforts. Although the door itself did not open any further, the chunk of door that flew off left an opening wide enough for him to squeeze through. As he squeezed through the gap in the door, it became apparent that a giant, swinging axe trap had been laid at this door. He was again grateful to not be on the receiving side of the door.
Righting himself with staff in hand, Rogue1 nodded to his intuition and began the trek down another torchlit hallway, hoping it would bring him closer to the end of this godforsaken place. The hallway was long and uneventful. It made a couple turns, then continued to be monotonous. Rogue 1 forced himself to look only ahead, as he was afraid looking back would only confuse which way was originally forward.
What in Hell’s shit?
The hallway had turned right, then stopped. The rogue stared momentarily at the three imposing walls facing him.
Oh no, this can’t be…
With all he had been through, “dead end” was the one term he did not want to think of. Rogue1 looked carefully at each wall. The corner seams were tight, the stone cobbled and stacked unevenly did not look any different, and each wall had a single torch in roughly identical locations. Looking back, one more torch burned away the darkness that revealed the corner he took to get here, but the darkness hung thick beyond the turn.
Refusing to acknowledge his predicament and not wanting to trek back to the room with the pit trap, Rogue1 tried thumping the floor and each wall with his staff—listening for a difference in the sounds. He pressed a hooded ear against the cool stone wall and thumped again. He did the same with the opposing wall, then repeated the process one more time.
Maybe?
Harvesting what confidence he could, the rogue quickly ran his hands along the wall, pressing for loose stone and feeling for any that seemed out of place. His hand brushed against the sconce that held the torch, and that’s when he noticed something. There, in the sconce, was a unique feature so small and subtle it would have easily gone unnoticed had he not been carefully looking.
Rogue1 looked to the other torches and confirmed they were missing this unique little set of hidden gears. He quickly pulled on the geared sconce, and as he did, the sound of old cogs sprung to life and groaned loudly at their sudden awakening. It was a stark contrast to the familiar quiet, causing Rogue1 to jump back in response.
Loud clanging and metallic clicking continued as the wall shifted, shaking old dust from its crevices. Then, the wall slowly rumbled downward. The wall stopped when the sconce touched the floor, causing the contrast silence to once again fill the dungeon. Darkness was beyond the secret doorway, eliciting hesitation in the rogue’s advance.
Where is the torchlight?
A moment later, the deep metal clanging and clicking returned, and the wall began to ascend to its previously closed position. Not willing to lose the opportunity, Rogue1 quickly leaped over the wall and rolled into the darkness beyond.
The torchlight from behind did little to illuminate the room Rogue1 had rolled into. It was peculiar because the rogue had become accustomed to torches springing to life upon his entrance. The nearby walls appeared to be the same as all the other walls he had encountered in this infernal dungeon, as did the floor. Beyond his shrinking light was a black abyss that threatened to contain nothingness. Rogue1 placed a hand on the wall nearby and extended his staff to the floor beyond the light. The familiar tap of stone against the end of his stick reassured him that the floor was present beyond the torchlight—and then the door closed. After the secret door closed and settled back in place, the only things that existed here were the tap of the rogue’s stick, his breathing, and utter darkness.
Tap, tap, tap, step. He kept his hand along the wall, feeling through the dark.
Tap, tap, tap, step. The silence rang loud through his ears.
Tap, tap, tap, step. Eyes open or closed, his vision was the same. He steadied his breathing.
Tap, tap, tap, step—
What was that!
The only thing louder than the silence was the breath he struggled to keep quiet. The rogue looked back and to the side, but he was blind in here. He swept his staff across the floor in an arc, feeling its tip bump and rattle against the cobbled stone floor. The wall was a lifeline he could not grip, but kept his hand firmly pressed against it all the same. Silence was an ever-present miasma that weighed heavier in the dark. Slowly, quietly, he let out his breath.
There it is!
Like something scratching against a distant stone, the sound was soft, subtle, and gone as soon as it was heard. The effect gripped Rogue1 to the core as his head looked about wildly in the dark. He waved staff in the air, searching for that which made the noise, but only air met his swings, and the sound was no more. With anxiety at its max, Rogue1 quickly moved forward.
Tap, tap, tap, step.
Tap, tap, tap, step.
Tap, tap, click.
Muscle memory kicked in as the familiar sound registered in the rogue’s head. He leaped backward as blue ethereal flames burst from the floor that Rogue1 nearly stepped on. The blaze roared bright and blinding, and large swathes of flame escaped high into the room before flying away like tortured blue ghosts caught in an overhead riptide.
Rogue1 squinted and shielded his eyes from the bright blue-gray light, not wanting to contemplate how that fire would have burned if he had been caught. As his eyes adjusted, the rogue realized the ghostly fire lit up more than half the room, and more importantly, there was a door just behind the fire. He stood, excited at the proposition of escape, and immediately began scanning the room for something to extinguish the fire.
As the ghostly flames began to diminish, Rogue1 noticed several small round orbs reflecting in the light. The rogue leaned forward to better see the orbs, and the sound of something soft scratching on rock caused the round reflecting spheres to move closer. The rogue froze, intently watching the spheres. The blue ghost light was steadily dimming, and the orbs moved closer again. A long, thick black appendage emerged from the dark shadows and crunched into the stone floor. Gentle scraping across the stone floor allowed the orbs to crest beyond the shadow and into the dying ethereal light. Below the spheres were two large, fanged mandibles that twitched greedily—a light string of ooze dripped long and slow from one fang. The orbs themselves were set atop the head of a giant, gluttonous spider. The spider hissed loud and hungrily toward Rogue1, drops of ooze flinging in its wake.
Flames be damned!
Rogue1 leaped over the dying fire and pressed himself against the door as he fumbled to get the lockpick from his breast pocket. The soft scraping of stone could be heard behind him as the spider moved closer.
The flames burned hot, but his armor did not catch fire. With lockpick in hand, Rogue1 squatted down and quickly worked the lock. Stone floor crunched as the appendage moved closer, followed by continued scraping against the stone—another hiss, it was louder, closer.
He quickly worked the pick. Turn—pop, click. The lock released as the fire went out. In the darkness, Rogue1 heard the long leg crunch into the stone next to him. The soft scrape of stone followed just behind, and the giant spider hissed ravenously at his back.
Rogue1 dove through the door and rolled, slamming into the opposing wall of the hallway. Scrambling back to his feet, he turned to see the monstrous eyes glaring painfully at him in the torchlight. It hissed angrily through its terrible fangs, flicking ooze from its mouth. The rogue charged for the door and slammed it shut. Hearing the familiar click of the lock engaging, Rogue1 stumbled back to the far wall and flopped down, sitting with head down and arms resting on bent knees, his staff by his side. It felt like he was breathing again, and was never so grateful to have those familiar torches back to light the hallway. He took a few more steadying breaths, then looked to his left and right.
The hall ended to his left, except for the door he had just escaped from. He shook his head and grinned wryly as he remembered the warning he had seen several rooms back.
“Beware the spider.” I guess it was only one spider.
To his right, the light extended the standard two torch lengths, then turned sharply to the right. The rogue grabbed his staff and stood up, quickly dusting the soot off his boots. Steadying his will, Rogue1 leaned in and moved forward through the hall.
The hall turned right, then right again. A strange smell began encroaching on Rogue1’s nostrils as he walked down the hallway. It was unfamiliar and unsettling, but nothing was present to indicate the reason for the smell. However, he did see a door ahead and decided to find out if the smell was coming from the door.
Rap, wap, and feel—no traps detected, but the door was locked.
With relative ease, Rogue 1 picked the lock and opened the door. What he saw beyond the door caused him to miss a step and stumble. There, in the far side of the room, was a familiar blue circle emanating a short column of light.
Is that the second respawn point? My escape?
He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then turned around to ensure it was still the same hallway he had been in. He turned back and quickly inspected the room. This was definitely a new room, not the one he had started in. There was only one other door in this new room, directly to his left in the adjacent wall. Also, there was only one chest in the center. Rogue1 quickly hit his staff against the stone floor in front of him, making sure there were no traps on this side of the door. Satisfied at the lack of response, he approached the blue circle.
This blue circle was identical to the other one, so far as he could tell. He didn’t bother memorizing the inscriptions, but they looked similar to the first circle. However, one different thing was that his circle would only have a column of light when he stepped in it—only then would the light column extend into the darkness above. This circle maintained a column of light that faded away at about the height of his knees. Rogue1 could almost hear a twinkling noise as he walked around the circle, tempering his excitement in case this was another trick. He tried scraping the markings with his staff, but they remained. He hit inside the blue ring with his staff, too—still nothing happened. He contemplated the circle a moment longer, then turned to the chest. The last thing the rogue wanted to deal with was a monster chest biting his head off while he was distracted with this new circle.
“Let’s see if you’re all mouth and teeth.”
Cautiously, Rogue1 circled around the chest, looking for signs of life. Seeing no movement, he quickly circled the chest again, then lashed out with a swift strike of his staff to the back of the chest. Still no movement. He moved to the side, then jumped to the front, each time striking the inanimate object. He gave it a violent jab in the front, and after seeing no reaction, Rogue1 approached the chest. He attempted to kick it open, but interestingly, it was locked. He mused that this was his first locked chest and quickly went to work picking the lock.
The lock clicked, popped, and the chest opened, revealing three items Rogue1 could choose from. He noticed the last one was shining.
>Choose one.
>[B] Simple Trap kit
A kit for creating simple traps. Rated for [minion] level targets. Supplies replenish over time. Recommend [Trap] skill for optimal use.
>[B] Small Crossbow
A small wooden crossbow that fires one bolt at a time; must reload after a bolt has been fired. Bolts replenish over time. Recommend [Ranged Weapons] skill for optimal use.
>[M] Restorative kit
Magically mends one random Moxie strike. No skills are required.
“Well, this kinda sucks.”
All the items were things he could have used, and would have used, if he had them while traveling through the dungeon. The crossbow would have been a great way to weed out the chest monster from a distance. Traps would have been nice, too—seeing how this dungeon was full of them. However, the Restorative kit was the item that shined. Rogue1 recalled the Healing kits from before—this one was different because no skills were required. He looked to the other two things, then back to the Restorative kit.
What is it about shiny things?
Unsure of a correct answer in this situation, Rogue1 followed his compulsion and grasped the shining Restorative kit. With a touch of sadness, he watched the other two items quickly fade away.
The Restorative kit no longer had its shininess but was now a simple leather pouch that fit snuggly on his belt. Rogue1 let out a long breath as he checked the kit to ensure it was securely attached to his belt—he hoped this decision would be a good one. The rogue turned back to the blue circle and crossed the border of inscriptions.
The light column shot up to the darkness, surrounding Rogue1 just like the first circle, and greeted him with a line of text.
>Welcome, Rogue 1. >You have found 2/2 Respawn Points. You have met the requirements to leave this floor. >You have 11 Upgrade Points available. Would you like to use them now?
“Nope, I’m done here.”
>More rooms remain to be explored. Would you like to continue exploring this floor of the dungeon?
“Hell no! Get me out of here.”
>Congratulations! You have completed Dungeon Floor 1: The Tutorial. Please choose your reward before exiting this floor.
“The Tutorial? Oh, fuck no. Get me out of here, you cunt!”
>Choose one. >Increase 1 Attribute of the Hero’s choosing by 1 level without an UP cost. >Removing 1 Defining trait of the Hero’s choosing. >Enchant 1 gear of the Hero’s choosing.
He looked blankly at his options as his gut twisted into a hard knot. “I need to get out of here. What the hell, you need a command line or something? How about escape? Exit? Get me the fuck out of here!”
The text in the light impassively waited for Rogue1’s choice to be made.
“Leave. Out. Go home!”
>Do you know where home is?
The new line of text caught Rogue1 off guard, and he stepped back to steady himself.
“Do I know where home is?”
The text remained.
“Of course I do! It’s… It’s… it’s… It ain’t this shithole.” His voice faltered as the text remained unchanged.
“Shit.” Rogue1’s anger smoldered deep and hot as he faced this fact. “Alright, you goddamn cunt, I don’t know where home is. There, you happy?”
>More rooms remain to be explored. Would you like to continue exploring this floor of the dungeon?
“Fuck you to fucking goddamn shit-sucking cunt-hell! Fuck your spider! Fuck your chest! And fuck you! Now get me the fuck out of here.”
>Congratulations! You have completed Dungeon Floor 1: The Tutorial. Please choose your reward before exiting this floor. >Choose one. >Increase 1 Attribute of the Hero’s choosing by 1 level without an UP cost. >Removing 1 Defining trait of the Hero’s choosing. >Enchant 1 gear of the Hero’s choosing.
Rogue1 collapsed to the floor. He sat with staff in his lap and face in his hands. “Is there any way to escape from here?”
>Yes.
He wasn’t sure how long the word had been there before lifting his head, but it gave him pause and reintroduced the possibility of hope.
“Don’t shit me now. You’re saying there’s a way to escape this place?”
The single-word response remained.
“Am I stuck here forever?”
The light column became blank.
“Fuck me, that wasn’t a no. But you’re saying I can escape and not be trapped in here forever?”
>Yes.
“Ha!” Rogue1 pumped his fist in the air. “I’ll take what I can get right now. How do I get out of here?”
>Choose one. >Increase 1 Attribute of the Hero’s choosing by 1 level without an UP cost. >Removing 1 Defining trait of the Hero’s choosing. >Enchant 1 gear of the Hero’s choosing.
He groaned at the repetitive answer but accepted his options. “Can you show me the thing with my skills and stuff?”
The column of light displayed his Hero Sheet.
Rogue1’s Hero Sheet was displayed next to the options he had to choose from. He looked over his defining traits, then looked at his gloved hand. He felt the tight skin stretch as he flexed his fingers and flipped his hand to palm-side and back again. One option allowed him to remove a defining trait. If he erased Burned alive, maybe he could remove these scars?
Maybe I could get myself back?
Looking up from his hand, his first defining trait glared back at him: Vain. He leered back at the trait with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not vain…” You are.
His self-defiance was quiet but forceful. Wanting to be done with the arduous process and get moving toward his escape, Rogue1 chose the last option: Enchant 1 gear of the Hero’s choosing. A mirrored image of himself appeared in the light column, allowing him to decide which gear could be enchanted. He looked at his staff, and it disappeared from his grasp, reappearing in the light column, slowly spinning in a suspended state. A few lines of text scrolled next to his weapon of choice.
>Gear: [B] Wooden Staff >Primary Skill: [B] Stick/Staff Weapons >Enchantments (0/1): None >Do you wish to enchant this gear?
Rogue1 mused over the possibility of enchanting his staff but was more curious to see what would happen if he chose other gear items. He let one of the Lockpicking kits hover in the light and the Restorative kit—though the Restorative kit was blocked from receiving an enchantment. Each disappeared from his person and reappeared floating in the same manner as his staff. However, when he chose the mask, it disappeared, leaving his face open and visible in the light column’s reflection.
His reflected face stared back with dark, hooded eyes. Though the hood covered most of his head, contorted knots of gnarled skin pulled tight over the side of his jaw and cheek. One eyebrow was replaced with a shiny lump of pink that traveled around his head and became buried in his hood. He could feel the flames burning around him, see the fire raging past him, consuming who he could have been—who he should have been. The fire was everywhere—
Rogue1 looked down, eyes closed. Beyond his trembling breath and clenched fists, he focused on the cool dungeon air around him. There was no fire consuming him, not like it had before. It was fire that had destroyed who he was, and he was determined to ensure fire would destroy this dungeon that held him captive. He focused on the mask, doing his best to not see his reflection in the light.
>Gear: [B] Mask (half-face) >Primary Skill: [B] Dodge >Enchantments (0/1): None >Do you wish to enchant this gear?
“Do it and give me back my face.”
>Choose one: >Random enchantment [Free] >Choose an enchantment [Cost: 1 UP]
“Damn it, enough with the questions! Random!”
>Random enchantment chosen: Invisibility
“Invisibility?”
The mask quickly spun in a small vortex of sparkle and glitter before imploding into a shining item—a nice effect for this upgraded mask. A new line of text appeared next to the gear.
>Gear Title (recommended): [B] Dodging Mask of Invisibility >Primary Skill: [B] Dodge >Enchantments (max): Invisibility
Rogue1 quickly retrieved his mask and sighed in the security it brought once it was returned. He gave of reflection one more cursory glance in the light column. The scars were gone with the mask back in its proper place; only those dark hooded eyes were staring at him now.
>Dungeon Floor 1 reward accepted. >Prepare to enter Dungeon Floor 2… >Difficulty Target Setting: 2 >Average Minion level: 2 – 3 >Underboss level: N/A >Boss level: N/A
The light column surrounding Rogue1 suddenly brightened in intensity causing the blue to shift to a brilliant white. Bits of light began to fly through the shaft of light as Rogue1 felt the steady pull of an unseen force.
“This is going to suck!”
The floor opened from under Rogue1’s feet, and the force suddenly swallowed him through the hole below, sending him to the next floor of the dungeon.