Name(s): Tervus Skorrind

Class:N/A

Tier: F

Dungeon Name: Calm Maze of Treasured Traps

Location: Falthon Plains

Dungeon Tier: Mature

Time of Death: Thirteenth Moon of the Scorching

Tervus watched impatiently as their dungeoneering guide checked a shabby treasure chest with a swift kick. The dull thud died off in the gloom of the masonry. Jabor Blotkiln looked more like an old story-teller than a dungeon mentor. He was more round than not, with a thick round beard and round spectacles. He wore dirty overalls and thick boots.

“A swift kick will do the trick,” said Jabor. “One can’t be too careful when starting out on their own. You must remember your basics, and it’s better to have a bruised foot than lose your hands or worse to a mimic.” There was a group of green adventurers hanging onto the old-timer’s every word. Everyone except for Tervus, who found the ‘basics’ to be more than a little droll.

“Right,” said Tervus coolly. “Can we at least open it and see what’s in it now?”

Jabor looked over at the impetuous youth, slightly taken aback, but his face crinkled into a knowing smile. “Oh Aye, master Skorrind,” said the guide. “After we check the lock for traps, we’ll be ready to pry her open and see what bounty awaits.” With that, the portly fellow knelt by the chest and began examining the lock with a thin tool, pinching a telescoping monocle in his right eye. He hummed as he worked while a girl with thick curly hair next to Tervus scribbled frantically trying not to miss a single morsel of information. After some time, the guide exclaimed triumphantly as the lock clicked open and he lifted the creaky lid. The group of would-be adventurers all leaned in a bit closer to see what secrets the chest held. Jabor produced from it a green dagger and a small coin pouch.

“It’s a bit low level-wise, but this dagger is enchanted with poison. Typically, to learn this information, you would need to get an item inspected in a town or city, but I am an experienced Inspector,” he said, shaking the coin pouch. “. . .and, from the weight of this, it holds thirty or so gold pieces. Not a bad find for such a low level dungeon. Since we’re all on the tour together, how about you all roll for it? Pull out your logbooks ladies and gentlemen!”

Tervus sighed loudly to express his impatience, but obeyed the guide’s instructions. He pulled a stone tablet emblazoned with the words ‘Dungeon-Corp’ from his rucksack. With a few quick motions of his finger the tablet came alive showing Tervus his attributes as well as any moments of import from his adventures. He input the command to generate a random number, as did every other novice adventurer in the room. The numbers appeared in a holographic projection over each person’s head. Tervus’ hopes raised slightly when he got a respectable ‘78,’ but they were immediately quashed when he heard a triumphant whooping. The sounds were made by a dwarfish man, who pumped his fists in the air, the number ‘99’ floated above his head.

“Well done, master Qualf,” boomed Jabor. “Let it serve you well on your future adventures. Now Let’s head onward. All low-level dungeons have at least one monster nest. Let’s find something bite-sized to test our combat abilities on.”

Jabor walked past the empty chest down a lengthy stone hallway, calling out for the group to stay close. For a long time, there was little of note apart from the smooth stones darkening with moisture and moss. The path sloped downward at a gradual angle, and Tervus noticed the humbling, supernatural pressure one feels when traveling beneath the earth. Despite the dungeon’s innocuous danger rating, the notion of boring into the earth inspired his heart to beat ever faster. He clutched the handle of his short sword for comfort. It was several quiet moments before the group reached a fork in the road. Jabor stood right at the crossroads and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Combat will have to wait for just a moment,” said the big man, eliciting a groan from Tervus, which Jabor pretended to ignore. “We have come upon a decision, and many factors can influence the best course of action to be taken. While there are multiple paths to the end of some dungeons, there are many more dead ends. Now these dead ends could mean valuable treasure or even glory, but it would be prudent to consider every path being a dangerous one, to minimize being caught off guard. He gestured with his torch to the left, which sloped upwards, and was dubiously lacking the moss that grew along the walls of the path they traversed.

“Notice that most of our journey has been heading deeper into the earth. The safest assumption is that this path will likely lead us away from our overall goal. The detour could house anything from treasure, to danger, to absolutely nothing, but it will cost us the most valuable resource of all: time. From a logical standpoint, we want to spend as little time inside the dungeon as possible. All but the top-ranking adventurers should exercise caution at every opportunity, lest they wind up maimed or dead,” he said, sawing a finger theatrically across his throat. “--but see here to the right. We have a downward slant and the moss is abundant. Where there is moss, there is some form of life. The obvious choice would be to continue down this path and ignore the other one. We’ll find our way to the dungeon’s end more quickly, and most importantly the larger concentration of treasure. While we may miss out on treasure here and there, the relative safety outweighs any reward we’d find at the end of this path. So let’s continue onward and we’ll be sure to split the loot at the end amongst ourselves.”

Tervus snorted to himself and crossed his arms as the group congealed around Jabor down the tunnel. With the luck he had on the last roll, he didn’t fancy the idea of having to share the loot with the rest of the group. He had passed his entry exam with flying colors and was sure he could handle any monsters a low-level dungeon would throw at him. He hung back and allowed the tour to disappear down the dark, mossy path. The capable young rogue would simply sneak up the pathway, deal with any threats, and whatever treasure he found would be his and his alone, while the rest of the air-headed tourists bickered amongst themselves for their booty.

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“You clever bastard,” said Tervus to himself. “In and out, they’ll be none the wiser, and you’ll be all the richer. Tervus took off up the dry path at a brisk jog. He would need to be quick to catch up with the guide. He pictured himself bumping into them carrying an armful of treasure and imagined the jealousy and admiration they would have. Even from that worthless windbag, Jabor. Yes, this was a prime idea. The kind of thinking that only the seasoned adventurers would have.

After an uneventful trek up the ever-steepening path, Tervus found himself in a large room. It would best be described as a room from an open-air temple. The open sky unfolded above him and the sun beat down, illuminating everything. The sandstone blocks along the walls were covered in unintelligible runes the likes of which Tervus had never before seen. “Dungeons often mimic reality,” he remembered Jabor saying. “They’re not that smart though, because while they can mimic writing, it rarely makes sense."

Right, Tervus thought to himself. The idiot knows his dungeons. I wish he’d teach me something useful.

Apart from the entrance from the tunnel, there were no other entrances to the room. The air was much cooler, which surprised Tervus, since he could plainly see the sun above him. He began to explore the walls, feeling for any sort of escaping air or a change in temperature, but this yielded no results beyond wasted time. As Tervus felt along the walls his foot caught on a slight indentation in the ground. Immediately, he dropped to all fours, brushing the sand away to reveal a floor decorated much like the walls. After some time of wiping away loose sand, Tervus discovered a slim path leading to the center of the room. Invigorated with his dungeoneering expertise, Tervus sprang up and ran along the walkway, searching for any sort of lever or button as the dungeoneering study books had advised. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be found.

Dammit, he said to himself, stamping his foot.

Tervus felt his stomach plummet to his feet as the ground gave way beneath him and he slid down a steep stone ramp. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips as he slid helplessly into darkness. As quickly as his descent began it ended as he was spat into a dark room. It was wet– very wet. A cursory examination revealed that he was in some sort of waist-deep pond of unknown origin. It smelled of stagnant water, and Tervus hoped that he was correct in that assumption. The young man waded in complete darkness until he found a mossy stone wall.

He recalled what Jabor had said: “Where there is moss, there is some form of life.”

At least the idiot’s information was useful for once, Tervus thought to himself.

After many water-logged moments of fumbling around, he was once again in a tunnel, feeling his way along in complete darkness. This one had moss on it, and Tervus found himself half-hoping to see Jabor and the other adventurers, but upon realizing his moment’s indiscretion, he chided himself.

You can do this, Tervus. You are going to be the greatest adventurer the world has ever seen, he assured himself.

Sure enough, as if he had willed hope into existence, Tervus saw luminescence at the end of the tunnel. Faint and far away, but it was definitely light. He made to run toward the glow, but stopped dead in his tracks as a deep, booming growl sounded behind him, freezing his blood in the veins. He turned slowly around to see three large eyes as big staring at him.

No no no, he thought to himself. Run, run run!

He followed his own commands and sprinted toward the light as fast as his legs could carry him. Tervus could feel hot breath on the back of his neck, but did not look back. The light bounced jaggedly every closer in his field of view. He ran and ran until his lungs were fit to burst, but he was the faster of the two, arriving into the room in the nick of time.

Without looking back down the tunnel at what was sure to be impending doom, Tervus looked for something to block the entrance. The tunnel was capped off with two heavy wooden doors. What luck! He slammed the doors in place and was rewarded with a loud thump, as whatever followed him slammed into the barrier. Unpleasant growls sounded from behind the door, but the reliable wood held fast. Fortunately, the creature was not intelligent, as it did not attempt to open the doors, but fell silent and shambled away.

Tervus turned to take in the new room. It was lit with lanterns along the walls. On the other end was another set of wooden doors. In the middle of the chamber rested the most beautiful treasure chest the youth had ever seen. Red painted wood, gilded with golden framework and filigree, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. Smiling to himself, Tervus made toward it, but his foot was caught in a sticky substance. He looked down at the cause of his immobility and was greeted by a green circular mass that housed two large, adorable black eyes.

Just a dungeon slime, Tervus said to himself, laughing. That’s what’s guarding this treasure? What a weak dungeon!

With a swift stomp from his other foot, the young dungeon explorer obliterated the creature. The hapless slime squealed shrilly as it died. Tervus could not wait for Jabor to see him now: an accomplished adventurer with treasure. As if thinking of the fat, useless man conjured him, the doors on the other side of the dungeon opened to reveal Jabor and the rest of the crew, looking very worried.

“Master Skorrind! You’re alive,” shouted Jabor. “We were so worried that you–”

Tervus wheeled around to see the horrid man. He looked at the group, then at the chest, back to the group, and once more to the chest.

“Stay back! It’s mine,” shouted the frenzied greenhorn. “I killed the slime, I earned the treasure!”

He leapt at the chest, fingers reaching for the clasp.

“Tervus, no! It’s breath–,” Jabor went to say, but was cut off by what happened next.

With a sick fleshy sound, the chest sprang to life, opening of its own accord, and a serpentine tongue danced around Tervus like a whip until he was immobilized and staring speechless at his doom. He attempted a scream, but it was cut off as the chest slammed shut around him. Hundreds of teeth slammed into Tervus, tearing his torso from his legs.

One of the adventurers in training let loose a shrill scream before everything went black.