Jenny pounded through the streets, ears straining for some sign those behind had been victorious as the sounds of fighting ahead faded. What she hadn’t expected was a scrabbling to her left. A lupine zombie leapt through an open window with teeth bared. She just managed to cover Lydia as the weight crashed into her shield, claws scraping as it tried to find purchase. Its rancid odour slammed into her almost as hard, churning her stomach. Balrem and Sarge were there a moment later, pulverizing it. A few quick nods and they set off once more.
Not long later they found where at least two of the dwarves had been fighting. Their broken and bloody corpses caked in what appeared to be powdered bone. Fresh enough the dungeon hadn’t absorbed them yet. There was no time to investigate closely, a burning club was brandished high above an ogre skeleton as it charged towards them, gaunt silhouettes following like children in its wake. Jenny barely registered the whiz of slung stones before a bubble of water appeared in their path. The stones burst through, but robbed of most of their momentum, plinked off Jenny’s armour, letting her focus on engaging the melee line.
Peripherally she was aware of Sarge slamming shield first into the oversized one, shattering its sternum. Water whipped over her head as threats appeared in windows and on roofs around them. A spear wielding zombie leapt at Balrem, springing forward with unexpected ferocity, but his daily practice against Farad paid off and he ducked the strike before dealing a devastating counterblow. Jenny’s own movements were almost mechanical, focused on defence and keeping the attention of most of the group. Cutting down what she could, but never overextending. She caught a gleam of steel on a roof nearby as some kind of one armed, four-legged skeleton aimed an odd metal pipe or blowgun at her. She didn’t know what it did but doubted it was good. She shouted a warning and dove, crushing an animal skeleton beneath her. Rolling to a crouch she spied Trafin on the roof standing over a pile of bones.
The sounds of conflict faded as the last few were dealt with, revealing a soft hissing coming from several buildings. Her eyes darted to the downed dwarves rapidly being absorbed, key details flashed through her mind. Both coated in white powder. Visible skin is red and irritated. Eyes, swollen and bloodshot. Few corpses around them. Her gut swirled, and she trusted it.
“PULL BACK! IT’S A TRAP!”
No one hesitated. Retreat was swift with Sarge gallantly guarding the rear, ready to intercept any threat. They didn’t stop before they had passed two buildings and posted up behind the third. The fizzing had been getting fainter, but as they stopped, she realised it wasn’t just with distance. It seemed to have petered out. Everyone stood tense. Eyes darting outwards but also looking to her for answers, she flushed with embarrassment.
“There was a fizzing from several of the structures and the dwarves appeared to be coated with some sort of residue. I may have overreacted.”
The pause as the others processed her words may only have been a moment, but to Jenny it seemed to stretch, like she couldn’t breathe until it ended.
“No, you did well. Better overcautious than dead.” Sarge reassured her as others nodded.
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“Some of the undead were hoisting glass spheres filled with white power,” said Lydia. “Perhaps they mixed poorly with my spells?”
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Boots pounded through the streets once more as the group attempted to navigate back to their comrades, now armed with the key they had sought. They found it in one of the buildings by the battle, its door rigged to fire a crossbow bolt once opened. Thankfully the only damage was another pockmark on Sarge’s shield, but Jenny knew it would have pierced her wooden one, if she’d even managed to raise it in time. It was a brutal reminder that they could never let their guard down here. Thankfully, as much as the dungeon was dangerous, it also held bounty, and one of the glass orbs filled with white power was retrieved. Lydia had volunteered to hold onto it for now. Normally, Jenny would assume she was hoping to save it and run tests on the interaction with her magic, but having seen her expression when she found Davis being healed, any testing would undoubtedly be violent and immediate.
Jenny hoped Trafin had a better sense of direction than she did, despite her best efforts the scattered buildings and low lighting had left her quite lost. Almost as if summoned by her doubt a light rose in the far distance.
Trafin paused, “That’ll be Vidan with the exit, but I think I can hear something nearby.”
“Best ignore it if we can.” Sarge ordered, “Our priority has to be re-joining the others and pushing forwards to catch the invaders. I doubt whatever defences remain can last much longer.”
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Jenny burst from the water, ready for immediate attack. Instead quiet desolation surrounded her. Though dim, the light from Vidan’s skill revealed a stark scene, piles of bones of all sizes, many burnt and crushed. The air was back to unnatural stillness but still held the scent of smoke and char. Jenny wished she didn’t recognise the sickening undertones of burnt hair and flesh, though the scene outside the dungeon would have been enough to etch it in anyone’s memory.
As the others emerged dripping from the water behind her, through one of the trails of devastation she spied a pair seemingly beginning to excavate something. Intensifying grey light pooled over their forms as black flames from the giant dug deeper, revealing the captain standing beside her, complicit. He met her gaze. Jenny charged. The heavy percussion of those behind following suit only made her tired legs pump harder. The light must be from the core, there was no time to lose.
Sarge’s order bellowed over their pounding feet, “Focus on the giant, I’ll handle Luke. And keep your head on a swivel, a few dwarves are unaccounted for and I wouldn’t put it past this dungeon to still have one more trick.”
A chorus of acknowledgements rang out around her but Jenny’s own died in her throat. If Sarge fought the captain alone he would die. She could hear the resolve in his voice, the captain’s betrayal pained him, and he thought he needed to be the one to set things right.
“I’ll aid you with the captain.”
“You have your orders – “
[commanding persuasion] flared, “Damn those orders! I’m not about to let you kill yourself in some honour duel. The captain betrayed the guard, not just you. I’m helping.”
“Let her help Tim.” Trafin interjected
Jenny dived to one side as a blast of flame separated the group. Quickly rising, she barely raised her shield in time to [block] a vicious overhead blow from the captain’s warflail. It knocked her to her knees. The shock radiating down her arm despite the skill, slowing her movements as the flail came sweeping back around lightning fast, only to clang against a familiar metal tower shield.
“Together then.”
The captain stepped back, taking their measure, “You think that sufficient? I have no wish to see you injured,” the head of his flail became shrouded in dark miasma, “but I will kill you if I must.”