Clambering back to the top of the slick ramp, Jenny called through the opening, “We’re heading on to the third floor Gerrard. Take the wedge and pull back out of the dungeon.”
“Yes ma’am!” He hesitated before adding with feeling, “Good luck.”
The soldier set to his task without another word. He’d managed to avoid serious injury in the fight outside, and had volunteered to transport the wedge currently preventing the ramp on the second floor from crashing into the mire below. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it let them fight Twrch on their terms. As Jenny squelched towards the saferoom her gaze fell on Keith and she couldn’t help but wish the fox beastkin had a similar attitude. Once he realised his former companion might be inside, he became zealous about joining the group to pursue. She suspected Sarge’s acceptance of his presence was to stop him doing something stupid rather than finding merit in his arguments. Lydia was also uncharacteristically furious, stomping feet sending mud flying. Jenny couldn’t blame her - the sight of Davis’s broken form even after the healer’s minstrations painted a brutal picture of what he must have had to endure. It lit a fire in her own chest, even out numbered and outleveled he’d stood against them for the sake of his city and his comrades. Jenny would show no less gumption.
As she stepped into the safe room, Gabrielle was rising from before the altar.
“I’ve completed the quest, but it seems apparent its true goal was to lead us to the dungeon.”
“Pardon ma’am,” Vidan began cautiously, “but if stopping the interlopers was the true goal, why was that not the quest?”
She showed no offense at the question. “The gods rarely reveal information in their quests, more often they simply push us in the right direction to achieve their goals. Most often directing a key member of the faith to place of worship at just the right moment. The quest a few weeks ago to destroy a book was unprecedented in many ways, not least for the number of people who received it. However, even it only said the book was in Timberhollow and gave vague details as to its contents. I am confident that this quest was bestowed for us to stop whatever corruption these criminals plan to spread.”
Trafin gasped sharply, “You think they intend a dungeon break?”
“It would be unusual for dwarves, but much of what passes this night is.” Sarge acknowledged.
“I do not know what they have planned, but Lady Pamyel has directed us towards this malignancy, and we must see it purged.”
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To Jenny’s chagrin, Keith did prove to be valuable, identifying the potion found in the chest as a healing elixir some of his former companions had carried. They had picked up a few scrapes from Twrch, but as the group rushed to complete the third floor it would undoubtedly be useful.
Panting and feeling the ache building in her arms and back she heaved on the rope pulling Balrem free of the earth trial once more. She was pleased to see that while he had some scrapes, this time it didn’t look like he’d been doused in blood. He’d levelled since last time and boosted his resilience, but his new [tough as stone] skill must be potent as well. Vidan was completing the light trial at a much faster pace than previously, Farad had already exploded the fire trial and collected its token before going to aid him, and despite warning that her spells weren’t as optimised for it, Lydia had completed the water trial without injury once more. That only left two. Air would be a maelstrom of potential injury, while darkness was still a mystery. That wasn’t to say they were out of ideas though.
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Kneeling with her shield in the doorway of the air trial, she called over her shoulder to Trafin, “Whenever you’re ready.”
The expected clamour reverberated as the ranger opened the chest he retrieved from the trial earlier, much of the shrapnel focused on the platform on which it once stood. Only a few pieces pinged off her shield, most of their momentum already spent, but the team couldn’t afford careless injury at this stage. With one last flurry of flensing needles, the storm subsided.
“Are you sure about this?” She asked Trafin as he appeared beside her.
“No, but there’s little choice. Hopefully that’s spent most of the traps pointed at that area, but even if it hasn’t, I managed before.” Something seemed off with him to Jenny, there was more than his usual intensity of focus when he’d resigned himself to dealing with a problem. “The chest had some knives as well as bandages, almost like it’s mocking our plan.”
“Or encouraging it.” She offered, happy to see Balrem was already wrapping some of his worse scrapes after Gabrielle ensured they were cleansed.
He inclined his head, “I’ll accept the extra attempts either way.” He leapt towards the first platform, lithely springing from it to the next handhold, to a narrow wall he could run along. On and on he went, conserving momentum as each landing became the impetus for the next leap. Making his way towards the platform where the chest once sat.
As they waited Sarge and Keith stumbled coughing out of the darkness trial. Sarge recovered quickly, but Keith found the nearest wall and slid down it to sit. Sarge produced the token, explaining it was hidden through a hole with a giant blade raised above, poised to sever grasping limbs. His armour-clad arms would have struggled to fit, but Keith stepped up. First creating an earth pillar to catch the blade should it drop. When Sarge casually mentioned he thought the pillar might have slowed the blade down a little but had no chance of stopping it, Keith blanched. Jenny was sure Sarge would have blocked it, but encouraging a little more caution from the kid was probably wise.
Trafin reached his desired spot, fairly far into the room near where the chest had been, but still well short of the podium holding the token. Sarge took up position in the doorway, his metal tower shield larger and more resilient than her own circular one. Unfortunately, while it kept everyone safe, it also blocked their view of proceedings. Everyone was still, listening closely for the storm to begin.
The whistle of a thrown knife, metal scraped on stone, “Damn. A little to the left.”
Jenny was impressed, that was a tiny target at a considerable distance, and while Trafin definitely had skills to make his knives pierce deeper, as far as she knew, his accuracy was all stats and practice. Yet as three more throws passed, each punctuated by the ranger’s increasing frustration, she wondered if he was biting off more than he could chew. Sarge was oddly quiet. In his place she’d be urging Trafin to take a breath, to calm down, maybe move a bit closer. All seemingly good advice she might have offered in his situation. Yet Sarge remained silent. Gazing at the broad armoured frame of the man who had taught her so much about being a guard, she tried to understand what he was thinking. Even Vidan looked a little impatient having completed the light puzzle with Farad. Her [commanding persuasion] gave her a nudge. Just enough for her to gesture for Vidan to hold a moment longer.
Another blade whistled through the air only to be followed by a clatter and a growl.
“I don’t know what’s eating at you Trafin.” Sarge’s deep tone carried, reassuringly calm, “If you want to talk about it we can while someone retrieves the token. But I’m gonna need you to hit it first.”
Trafin snorted, “It’s not exactly an easy shot Tim.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been using knives from the chest up till now.”
Ever since the dungeon had absorbed steel from Trafin’s knife, it seemed to have a real fondness for putting identical copies in chests. Particularly when Trafin was around. There’d been some ribbing about the dungeon repaying him, but he’d consistently argued that they weren’t quite the same. Jenny got it. Over time your weapon became part of you, you learned all it’s quirks and defects, it’s slight imbalances, but she’d assumed the ranger was exaggerating his frustration with the loss of the original.
A knife flew through the air, and the cacophony began.