“This is some serious real estate,” announced the party’s tank, surveying what little of the chamber his flickering mana orb would permit. “We can build an entire wing down here once we’ve claimed it. Of course, we’ll have to widen that damn pokey entrance. But once we do, the Dungeon Warden will pay us a fucking fortune for this place.”

“Only if we’re the party who conquer it,” added Nyx, exiting the cramped cavern and dropping to the ground. No longer constrained by the claustrophobic cave, she began to stretch every limb, savoring her freedom. “If we suddenly start respawning back at our own wing, it won’t be long before word gets out. And then every damned gang in the prison will be putting together a raid party and showing up with the same idea. If we’re doing this, we need to get it done right, first time.”

“Just as well I don’t plan on dying then, eh?” replied Craynor with a smirk, nonchalantly twirling his axe as he spoke.

Nyx shook her head. The barbarian was confident, but to a fault.

Hell quickly followed at her heels, as G’rrak was next to drop from the fissure, his gangly form easily navigating the cramped exit. “Don’t scout too far ahead,” called the demon to the tank. That’s what the dwarves are for, remember?”

The dwarves, not particularly overjoyed by the prospect of wandering deeper into a darkened, unexplored boss lair, gave the demon a few offensive hand gestures, before reluctantly venturing into the unknown. Neither was armed with anything more than a basic, non-enchanted axe, their low-level combat skills incapable of wielding anything more powerful.

Nyx smiled. She couldn’t imagine being so weak in such a dangerous place, but the little bastard’s enhanced vision was a godsend when it came to exploring unlit, unclaimed dungeons. Most parties preferred to use rogues as scouts, but the amazon had a distrust for underworld types. Rogues were admittedly excellent at scouting ahead, but they were just as good at stealing most of the items they might happen to find there, while beyond their employers gaze. The dwarves were weak, a pair of noobs chosen specifically to keep her costs down. But she didn’t care about their fodder-level combat abilities. Their night-vision was vastly superior to the magical trinkets that fluttered around the rest of the party’s heads, barely lighting more than a few feet in front of them. And speaking of which…

The summoner of said trinkets fell from the mouth of the tunnel with an undignified thud, knocking a few points off his own HP in the process, but bruising his ego even more so. Grandel was a level 4 wizard’s apprentice, and like the dwarves, he was another ‘contractor’, of sorts. But unlike the dwarves, he had been an expensive addition to the party. The decision to hire such a costly warrior had not been a popular one amongst her men: putting a decent magic-user on the payroll just meant less loot for everyone else, when all was said and done. But Nyx had not always been part of such a physically-weighted force. Her days working with smaller independent parties had taught her the importance of deferring tasks to warriors better suited to specific roles. Yes, barbarians were impressive when it came to their shear strength and brutality (and she had twenty of the sweaty bastards under her command: strength was not something her organization would be lacking for, any time soon). But a wizard brought a whole new range of nonphysical skills to the party; healing and light-casting, to name but a few.

Grandel respected Nyx. Her tendency to drop the word ‘apprentice’ from his title was particularly appreciated: he would have to rise 6 more levels before he could truly drop the apprentice tag, but he enjoyed the inflated sense of importance she gave him.

Another generic-looking barbarian entered the cavern behind him, almost crushing the would-be wizard in the process. This newcomer was followed by a much more combat-orientated magic user: a level 4 gun mage. The odd amalgamation of wizard and gunslinger immediately began cursing out the barbarian for smoking in such a confined space. He looked puny beside the cigar-puffing meathead he was berating, and was promptly followed into the lair by a grumbling level 5 warlock. Nyx had hired the lower-tier spellcasters to be the party’s sharpshooter and cannon, respectively. Another unpopular decision with her regular troops, but they were painfully low on warriors with decent range attacks, so she’d won them around, in the end. She knew the wizard had a few attack spells up his ridiculously large sleeves, but if the shit hit the fan, he would be too busy casting heal on the other troops to join the fighting. The warlock, on the other hand, was made for combat. Plus his lower rep made him cheap, and he knew a few darker spells that the allegedly purer wizards tended to stay well clear of. He’d already damned himself to learn the dark arts. Why she wondered, shouldn’t she reap the rewards.

The dwarves returned from the darkness, their natural night-sight having penetrated the distant darkness the wizard’s magical trinkets couldn’t hope to reach.

“Well?” asked Craynor, his voice tinged with excitement.

“Treasure chests,” replied the first dwarf, a ginger-haired wild-man dressed in little more than rags.

“And I’m very happy to report, little else,” added the second, a balding individual in a light wood-paneled armor that was functional at best.

This analysis was music to the party’s ears. Since the warlock’s arrival, three more barbarians had squeezed themselves through the narrow gap, and the prospect of loot was sure to quicken the pace of the others. Craynor began to subtly wander in the direction of the chests. Catching him out, Nyx ordered the tank to hold position.

“Wizard?” she announced, turning to the long-haired, incredibly stereotypical looking spellcaster.

The apprentice understood what was being asked of him, and stepped forward. As the party member with the greatest magical perception, he was their early warning system, their monster radar. He pressed his palms together and closed his physical eyes. Then, with arms outstretched, Grandel began to survey the chamber not with his eyes, but with his mind’s eye, searching the area for magically tainted threats that the dwarves may have missed in their more mundane assessment.

“Nothing,” the wizard-to-be eventually replied, his voice oozing an air of relief.

Nyx nodded. Of course, the leader understood that this was no guarantee of their safety. Many species, like the lowborn orcs, possessed no magical trait. And many of the creatures that did, tended to port in out of thin air when a trigger somewhere in the chamber was activated. Add to this the fact that some bosses could mask their presence from lower level mages, and her early-warning system was far from foolproof. But she also knew that bosses were usually accompanied by weaker minions, and such creatures would find it harder to hide their presence.

The gun mage, equally wary of this assessment, stood with his back to the wall near the entrance, arcane hand rifles raised, waiting to provide cover should the shit hit the fan.

For some though, the ‘wizard’s declaration was all the confirmation they needed.

“Happy days,” declared Craynor, placing his axe on its holster and then rubbing his hands gleefully together. “Okay Gandalf, throw some more light on this dump so we can get to the looting.”

“For the last time, my name’s Grandel,” spat the apprentice, casting the party’s tank a withering stare. It was met with a hand gesture that quickly summed up the barbarian’s feelings about the physically weaker class of warrior.

The apprentice cursed under his breath, then began mumbling a series of arcane commands, summoning a larger spear of light overhead. Mana swirled in the air above the party, collecting in a flat disc of energy that, while far from lighting the whole chamber, rendered the feeble mana torches redundant.

Nyx smiled. She knew that the wizard was still apprentice rank, so he couldn’t hope to fight back all the shadows in a vast chamber so devoid of natural light. But a lot more detail was now visible. The chamber had all the trappings of an abandoned throne-room, its ornate floor embellished with an impressive mosaic of some long-forgotten crest. Towering golden statues circled the room, each depicting perfect humans with perfect bodies: long forgotten gods, Nyx suspected. She couldn’t be sure who they represented, but she knew damn well what they meant for her party: their metals would offer an excellent source of resources for the dungeon’s crafters, bringing in yet more profit. Now that the light was stronger, she could even make out an upper balcony, something that could only aid the chamber’s conversion into a new wing of the prison.

All in all, she should have been ecstatic with this find. But two years in the dungeons had sharpened her instincts, and this just felt too good to be true. An empty dungeon large enough to house hundreds of prisoners, filled with loot chests, resources, and no boss?

Oh well, she told herself, one thing at a time. The light confirmed that yes, there were chests everywhere. And chests had a habit of disappearing shortly after their discovery. The order was given to pair off and investigate, a standard tactic when dealing with unfamiliar chests. Because mimics masked their magical aura well, and liked nothing better than to take the form of innocent looking chests, gobbling up greedy adventurers as they dropped their guard in their moments of avarice. With this in mind, the two-warrior strategy was a simple one: one to open the chest, the other to stand by, weapon drawn, ready to strike.

“Remember,” she promptly added, as her troops set out in search of their potential payday. “A big lair like this usually means a big boss. Keep your eyes peeled. Stay close to the entrance, where the light can reach you. We don’t want to trigger anything before everyone’s inside the chamber.”

“And if any of you meatheads finds any loot that would make a good gift for a baby shower, let me know,” added G’rrak, unexpectedly. “M’keel’s gettin’ ready to pop any day now, and I haven’t a fucking clue what to get him.”

There were quite a few disgusted expressions at that last comment. Taking a prison wife was one thing, there were needs to be met, and not enough female prisoners to meet them. But male prisoners giving birth? That was another thing entirely.

The dwarves took up sentry position on the fringes of the shadows, while the core party began to approach the newly illuminated chests. Nyx stood back and watched, keen to ensure that all gold found its way into the troop’s shared inventory, and not the individual’s coin purse. She called up her status menu, watching as said inventory began to fill with (alas, unimpressive) items. By now, almost half of the raid party had entered the ominous hall. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t permit looting to begin until everyone was in the chamber. But the arrival of her remaining soldiers was painfully slow, and she couldn’t risk the chests suddenly vanishing while they dawdled. And that begged one obvious question: “What the fuck’s keeping the other half of the party?” she spat, turning to her demon guard for answers.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

G’rrak shrugged his gangly frame. Nyx wasn’t particularly concerned for their missing muscle’s safety: as party leader, she would have been alerted if they’d come under attack. But it had been a full two minutes since the last barbarian entered the chamber. What the hell was going on? She was suddenly approached by one of her contractors, who was keen to offer his own assessment of the situation.

“Have you seen the pecs on some of those guys?” the warlock commented, striding up to her side. The dubious mage was bald, with a grey beard that appeared noticeably hipster in its styling. His ragged green robe was torn away at the shoulders, revealing muscular arms sleeved in the tattoos of his previous life. An underclass avatar, he’d been hired out of necessity. But unlike the rogues, at least she could easily keep an eye on him.

He pressed the back of his staff to his neck with both arms and stretched his back. “You were lucky you managed to get any of those steroid pumped meatheads into the bloody cavern at all. I’m just glad I had the savvy to get close to the front of the queue before some dumb bastard got himself stuck.”

“How can you be so sure that’s what happened?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The last thing she needed was a saboteur working on behalf of one of the arcane-class gangs.

“I may not have high-level magical perception like Harry Potter over there,” he began, “but I can sense the mana charge in their weapons. There’s a backlog a few feet from the fissure.”

‘Harry Potter’ nodded in agreement, as he continued to pour more mana into the flickering magical lights that circled their avatars. The Amazon sighed. She had her suspicions as to who was responsible. ‘Tiny’ had been a giant IRL, and adding barbarian traits to his original frame had only made the lumbering klutz even more colossal. Grandel shed some light on the opening, and sure enough, one of Tiny's legs was hanging out of the crack at a very odd angle. She swore under her breath, instructing G’rrak to go back and assist, reasoning that his gangly frame would be best suited to navigating the tunnel if anyone else was trapped further back.

“Dumb bastard,” she mumbled to herself, shaking her head. This sort of thing was happening too often, these days. Many of her best recruits had been recently promoted to lead their own parties, and the pack of knuckleheads she’d been given as replacements left a lot to be desired. Speaking of which…

“Holy shit, look at this,” came the voice of an excited barbarian. It was unmistakably that of Craynor.

“Keep it down,” shouted the dwarf. “You’ll attract the wrong sort of attention.”

Turning to find the source of the commotion, Nyx realized that the barbarian tank was holding up an item that more than justified his awe.

-[ Analise: Barbarian’s arcane blade. Forged by T’arus, a mighty warrior possessing both the wizard and barbarian skill sets, this is an epic class item. T’arus became lost in these dungeons’ centuries ago, and his items are extremely rare. The sword doubles the user’s armed combat skill, also adding one extra point of resilience. This item also doubles the output of all channeled mana. Item durability 85/100. ]-

Two thoughts immediately entered the Amazon’s mind, the first of them driven by avarice.

Shit! Trust him to get that chest.

Because unlike loot of the financial variety, weapons were fair game, belonging to whoever managed to pick them up along the way. A leader could order her troops to lend items to another party member for the duration of the mission, purely from a strategic standpoint. But she couldn’t justify ordering the tank to relinquish the weapon to her permanently. Like it or not, the sword was his.

Her second concern, however, was much more pressing, and it explained why the dwarf had been so keen not to be noticed. The chest that had provided the item was a lot further into the room than the muscle-bound fucker was supposed to be wandering in the first place. And with that in mind, it had the potential to be a trap. Why else would the room throw up such an impressive weapon upgrade, unless the shady area contained a fucking good reason to need one.

What if he’s triggered something. The greedy bastard could damn us all.

“Get your impressive ass back over here, now!” she cried. “We don’t push forward until the rest of the party arrive.”

Craynor smirked, his gaze fixated on his new toy as he swaggered back to the party. His joy however would not last long. Without warning, the chamber began to shake. The event passed in seconds, but everyone assembled knew that such a random occurrence was never a good thing. Not when you’re standing in the middle of a boss lair, at any rate.

Nyx gave the call to retreat back to the cave entrance, but it was too late. The small area between the fissure and the grand chamber was coated in a semi-translucent sheen, the sort that suggested a magical barrier was now in play. G’rrak started banging on the other side with his fists, confirming her suspicion. Seeing him trapped with the rest of her troops, she cursed the decision to send the demon back, and not one of the dwarves. He was faster than her barbarians and possessed body blades stronger than all but the best magically infused metals. And now, just like that, she’d lost him.

As for the barrier that now blocked their retreat, Nyx had seen its type before. It was standard fare, designed to ensure that boss battles were fought fairly, without reinforcements piling in and tipping the scales. With that in mind, she knew that neither G’rrak or her party had any hope of penetrating it.

The amazon’s heart began to pound. Hastily calling up her status menu, she selected the ‘war party’ tab and checked the stats of her raid party. The warriors cut off from her control had disappeared from the party status screen, leaving her with ten barbarians, about half the number she had set out with. Cursing, she flicked to the contractor’s tab. Two insignificant dwarfs, one warlock, one wizard’s apprentice and one gun mage. Thank the gods all three magic users had made it into the chamber. Whatever they were about to go up against, that small mercy might at least give them some small chance of survival.

“Everybody pull back to the entrance,” she bellowed. “I want the wall at our backs and eyes in every direction. Warlock, start charging an attack spell, the heaviest you’ve got.”

“What sort?” he yelled.

“What?”

“Fire? Ice? There’s more to magic than power, you know. We don’t know what the fuck we’re up against, yet. How will I know what to summon?”

“The monsters in the neighboring dungeon were vulnerable to flame,” she reasoned, directing her troops into position as she spoke. “So let’s try that first. Spellslinger69….”

The stoic gunslinger with the gamer style handle turned to meet her gaze.

“Be ready to open fire when I give the order, but not before,” she bellowed, gripping her sword a little tighter. “And to the rest of you… I’m sure it goes without saying, but in case it isn’t obvious; the wizard’s our only healer, so protect him at all costs.”

The apprentice hastily got to work reinforcing the party’s lighting orbs with mana, knowing that this was his last opportunity to throw as much light as possible into the shadowy chamber before the fighting started. The orbs shone brighter, but the chamber was vast, his efforts a drop in the ocean. An order was given, and the dwarves timidly strode forward, squinting into the darkness that lay beyond the reach of the spell’s effect.

“S-somethin’s blockin’ our vision,” yelled the bald dwarf. It’s like the bloody darkness is reinforced, somehow.”

“He’s right,” yelled Grandel. “Something in there is trying to shield its presence, and it’s getting closer.”

Nyx moved to the front of her troop, joining the tank, and took up a defensive stance. When she squinted, she thought she could just make out a faint movement in the shadows… it was almost as if the blackness was advancing.

And then she realized that it was. Without warning, the shadows darted out, and a dwarf howled in pain as the darkness took him, dragging him into its pitch black maw.

-[ User: SnowWhiteShagger has died. Scouts remaining: 1 ]-

The other dwarf stumbled back, gasping for breath as he tried to warn his party as to what he had witnessed, fear stealing his words as his avatar began to hyperventilate.

“Shadowbanish,” cried the wizard, finally completing his illumination spell.

The mana orbs flared, spreading light across the entire chamber. They revealed five individuals, all meters from the remaining dwarf. One was the shredded corpse of the self-proclaimed ‘Snow White shagger’, but the others were of much more concern. And they weren’t even the only one. Because at the very back of the room, pinned to one of the corners, lay a huge, hulking shadow. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Its presence finally revealed, the boss raised itself onto its long, spindly legs. Standing tall, it was easily the height of two human warriors. It’s head, neck and body were as black as ebony, their closest anatomical counterpart being that of a horse, albeit an oversized, monstrous one. The beast’s razor-like row of teeth seemed to run all the way across its elongated face and down its neck, as if it was capable of opening its entire head and more besides. Four black bony legs protruded from each side of its torso, all spiked at the tip, and poised as if ready to spring. And from the back of the beast, a tail resembling that of a scorpion, with a stinger that wasn’t just the size of a human head, but that actually appeared to mimic one, its red eyes glinting with malice, and a horrific bone stinger protruding from its screaming, open mouth. The horse-head turned to face the intruders, eight red, blinking eyes regarding them as its mouth began to salivate.

“That is one fucked-up looking freak,” declared Craynor, succinctly summing up the boss that now loomed before them. His new sword was in one hand, and his original axe in the other. Both were charged with mana, and ready for action.

The light of the spell was already starting to dim. Nyx knew that there was no way Grandel could sustain his attempts to light the entire chamber and leave himself enough mana for the fight ahead. She cursed the troop’s analyst for getting himself trapped in the tunnel with the others, and activated her own, weaker perception skill, gleaning what stats she could from the creature before messaging the details to each of her party.

SPECIES: SHADOW STALLION

BOSS – TEIR 4

HP: 2000/2000

Mana: UNREADABLE

Allied Mob’s: 4

Skills: UNREADABLE

Weaknesses: UNREADABLE

As the message made its way through the ranks, all signs of bravado fell away. Nervous words were exchanged. Even Craynor took a step back as the thing rose up onto its multitude of legs, and began to advance. The four smaller creatures fell back, taking up positions at their parent’s side. Nyx reckoned that if this thing was the stallion, these four were its fowls, each comparative in size to a regular horse, and borne upon similar, spider-like legs. With two hundred and fifty HP each, they wouldn’t have posed much of a threat on their own. To be fair, the overall threat would have been low, if they had their entire raid party. Alas, thanks to the knucklehead with the sword fetish, the boss had been triggered too early, and she was trapped here with no such luxury. Her barbarian troops were chiefly around level 4. Decent, but not spectacular. As for the others, Craynor, Grandel, Spellslinger69 and… (what the hell did the warlock call himself, again? She wondered, quickly checking the war party interface. Kriabal, that was it.), they would be her most valuable players. But even with those four backing her up, it was a fight that could go either way.

“Can you grab one of the lesser monsters with your dominate skill?” she called to the warlock, gesturing to the smaller foes.

“Only one way to find out,” he yelled back. “But I can’t activate my dominate skill while I’m charging a fire spell, my level isn’t high enough. Do you want me to throw it, or reabsorb the mana?”

Damn, she thought to herself. If he releases his attack, he’ll immediately become the enemy’s primary target. But look at that asshole boss. There’s no way we’re talking our way out of this one, so we may as well get the first hit in.

“Aim for the big one, she bellowed. “You too, SpellSlinger. Everyone else, be ready for momma bitch to go after the warlock, do what you can to draw it away from him.”

The warlock did not look especially pleased with that strategy. With no real ties to the party, independent contractors often felt disposable in situations like this. Still, he thought to himself. I’m the only one with the dominate skill, it’ll be in her best interest to draw the enemy away from me.

“I’d like to say it was nice knowing yeh all,” he declared, as fire began to erupt from his fingertips, but I spent most of the crawl starin’ into a barbarian’s ass, so death will probably be a small mercy by comparison.”

And with that less-than-inspirational statement, he funneled the flame into his crooked staff, unleashing an inferno that rippled across the room and erupted against the bosses avatar. A howl let loose from the shadow stallion as the flames consumed its inhuman, fang laden face, the gaping row of needles it called a mouth opening like a Venus fly trap as it shrieked in pain.

To no one’s surprise, the beast still stood, it’s HP barely affected. And just like that, the battle was on.