-[Act 1 * Part 1]-
The throne room of the dungeon was bustling with excitement. Eager minions scurried back and forth across the cold and loveless granite floor as they went about organizing the hall for the grand event. Crimson robed mages conjured fires in the arcane braziers hanging from the ceiling while the demonic servants hauled around heavy chests of loot. They emptied the gold coins and glistening jewels into large treasure piles around the stone pillars that held up the ceiling of the vast chamber.
The minions were hard at work on establishing the mood for the final showdown with their sinister lord, the undisputed master and commander of this dungeon, the prince of evil—Basil von Doom.
Basil was pleased by their due diligence. The demon lord followed the ongoing preparations from the corner of his eye while skimming through the latest status updates as they appeared on the yellow pages of his leather-bound dungeon keeper’s handbook. The list of casualties, both friendly and hostile, popped up in his arcane manual alongside other reports, important events and issues that he had to manage from his throne.
The dungeon keeper smiled revealing a fang in the corner of his mouth as a new report showed up in his book. The message glowed bright red so as to highlight its importance to the operator: “Sector #7 has been lost! Intruders advancing on Sector #8!”
“Wonderful,” Basil whispered to himself. “The heroes are heading straight for the throne room. The battle will take place just as I had planned.”
He tapped his claws on the hard covers of the manual as he contemplated his next move. Ten minutes, he wagered. Ten minutes and they should be standing at the door. Maybe a little longer, if they need to reorganize their ranks before the final assault.
Basil raised one hand to his dark red face and plucked at the tiny jagged patch of a beard growing just below his lip. His bald head was decorated by two massive symmetrical horns that grew forth from his temples. His pronounced facial features almost made Basil appear like the reflection of the perfect humanoid male with how muscled and lean he was. But the brown horns, combined with his hulking body, skewed that charming appearance just enough so that he was also one nose ring short of being mistaken for a bipedal bull.
Granted, Basil looked like he could pull a cart or two without breaking a sweat. He certainly appeared to have the endurance for it, what with the thick slabs of armor that covered most of his body. They screamed warrior, but that too was a part of the scenery. Just like the throne room around him, the overblown appearance of the dungeon keeper was designed to impress and intimidate. Practicality came in a close second.
A new line of text popped up in Basil’s manual: “Intruders in sector #8!” The dungeon keeper dismissed the warning with a swipe of his finger.
Floors, sectors, rooms—it was all a matter of theme and personal preference on the part of the keeper that operated them. Most dungeons were designed with a common template in mind and a treasure at heart, all for the benefit of the daring heroes who sought to conquer them, of course. Traps, monsters and other such adversities were laid out either in growing order of difficulty to separate the weak from the strong or, sometimes evenly, if the intruders were formidable enough but still had to be delayed as not to arouse any suspicion.
Either way, the heroes would eventually find themselves facing the final boss, most often in his throne room; most often a creature of unimaginable power; most often their doom.
Today it was Basil von Doom they would face. And he was more than happy to receive them.
The dungeon keeper cracked his neck, set aside his manual and surveyed the room. From his throne he commanded the perfect view of the battlefield and was himself certain to remain visible no matter how the intruders chose to approach him. The jagged obsidian pyramid atop of which his throne resided faced the main entrance. This way it allowed for just enough space that the intruders would have to close the distance before attacking him. The piles of treasure scattered about the room were there to distract them along the way and so were the crackling fires, iron spikes mounted on the walls and the disheartening whispers in the shadows. Indeed, the lead up to the fight had to instill as much dread and uncertainty into the foolish mortals as possible. It just wouldn’t be by the book without it.
With the final preparations complete the lieutenants hastened away their underlings before gathering at the steps of their master's throne. A dozen frightening shapes kneeled before Basil and silently awaited the dark lord’s decision. They were all secretly hoping that Basil would grant them the honor of facing the intruders first, before the boss would have to get his hands dirty.
Indeed, to give up one’s life to protect the dungeon core was a task any minion would volunteer for willingly, but never against the express orders of their master.
From among the ranks of hulking demon champions, burly beast masters and slender arch mages a lone woman emerged. A horned beauty, a succubus, black of hair and draped in a black and white gown that was rather on the short side; Elnora climbed the obsidian steps tall and proud. She carried her weapon, a long, black and thoroughly wicked halberd over her shoulder in a resting stance.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Elnora kneeled before her lord in a show of fealty. The succubus patiently awaited her master’s next command.
Basil von Doom greeted his servant with an open palm, bidding her to speak.
“All of the preparations for the coming battle are complete, Master,” Elnora said and bowed her head in reverence to the dark lord.
“Good…” Basil replied in a low voice. “Then we shall proceed as planned.”
He looked past the she-demon and addressed the room at large. “You have all done well to have held back the invaders for so long,” the dungeon keeper proclaimed to his minions. “Your efforts will be rewarded. All deeds have been recorded. All sacrifices counted. The unholy work that we have done upon this world will be reflected in my report to the Guild.
“You have all served me well. And some,” he said and looked to Elnora, “exceedingly so...”
The previously tense expressions of beast and demons brightened as their master’s praise reached their ears. But none looked more pleased by Basil’s words than the succubus kneeling before him.
Elnora bowed her head even deeper to hide her smile. “Then shall we receive the intruders at the gate, Master?” she asked.
“No,” the dungeon keeper replied and gestured dismissively at the gathered minions below. “You are to depart this chamber immediately.
“There is too much at stake here,” Basil explained. “From the moment the heroes step inside the throne room my plans will call for a more subtle approach—a personal touch, if you will. I cannot risk failing the Guild’s assignment when I am so close to victory...”
A sensation akin to a cold wind shot across the room. The minions acknowledged Basil’s command without objection, but none took it lightly. A chance to fight and die in defense of their dungeon, its master and the all sacred core was the highest of honors. Their disappointment was understandable, but never to be voiced in the presence of the dungeon keeper. There was no authority higher than him, and no questioning of his decision could be permitted.
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“Now leave,” Basil commanded.
The minions complied without hesitation. The small army of monsters and kith disappeared into a passage behind the throne leaving the wide open chamber unguarded.
“As you wish,” Elnora said and backed away from the throne. “Then I shall see to the—”
“Wait,” Basil interrupted her. He gestured invitingly at the left side of the throne. “I wish for you alone to remain at my side,” he said. “I think that you could learn a thing or two from the opponents that we are about to face. I have a role for you to play in the coming battle. ”
“You honor me, Master,” Elnora replied. The succubus gladly took her position at the side of the dark lord’s throne.
“Think nothing of it,” Basil said. “As a mentor it is my duty to challenge you. Even if you are not a purely combat oriented class, I cannot deny you the valuable trials of combat.”
“I will not disappoint you, Master,” Elnora said with conviction.
“Hmph!” Basil growled, “I don’t expect our guests to put up much of a fight, to be honest. This is a last-ditch effort to save their precious Empire Solar—a suicide run on the core. A predictable move...”
He tapped his claws against the surface of the throne as he pondered his situation. “How unfortunate,” he said.
Elnora nodded. “Very unfortunate for them, Master,” she said. The she-demon thought it a joke; a snide remark at most, but that had not been Basil’s intent.
The dungeon keeper noted how the halberd rattled in Elnora’s delicate hands. To a lesser mind it would have gone unnoticed, but, when Basil focused his well-honed senses, he could feel even the faintest of vibrations as they traveled through the ground from where the weapon’s shaft touched it.
She is trying so hard to appear collected—pretending to be at ease—but I can almost smell the adrenalin with how close she is standing to me. Ah, succubae… their pheromones always betray their true state of mind.
The succubus turned to her master and her expression grew weary. “Is everything alright, Lord Doom?” she asked.
Basil could sense a storm of emotions raging within the she-demon. Of course, she should feel excited, he thought. An opportunity to fight beside me… This is her moment to shine.
Compared to her master, Elnora was young and inexperienced. In the yellow pages of Basil’s dungeon keeper’s manual her power level registered as a respectable twenty three, but for a succubus it was hardly the upper limit. Her only true distinction was her [Elite] status that doubled her health when compared to others of her race at that same level of power. At her low power level she had yet to master her first combat class, so her potential as a warrior was still very much underdeveloped.
Basil pondered the nature of his servant. Fresh out of the academy and thirsting for hands on dungeon management experience; eager to get her hands dirty… Who in their right mind wouldn’t feel excited for a fight like this—an assault on the core.
What kind of a dungeon keeper wouldn’t care for his pride, his work and, indeed, the sole purpose of his existence?
I am about to engage my enemies in a fight to the death. He drew a deep breath and held it in for a moment as if trying to fill up the void within his chest. And yet, I feel nothing. Nothing at all…
Basil sighed wearily. “Nora?” He addressed her in abbreviation to make it clear that they were talking out of character.
Casual conversation or not, the she-demon was still his apprentice, so Elnora replied with the due respect. “Yes, my Lord?”
“Why do you want to become a dungeon keeper?” Basil asked. “What do you see in it?”
The she-demon appeared bemused by her master’s question.
“Why, because it is the best thing ever!” she replied with excitement. “To care for a dungeon, to look over its faithful minions—it is the greatest of aspirations for any demon with even an inkling of skill in leadership.”
Elnora placed her hand over her heart as she recited the words she had memorized from her days in the Guild’s Academy of Dungeon Management. “Nothing without hardship and everything to the strong—stand tall and fight well! Your minions will follow. Glory and purpose are found in battle alone.”
Basil shook his head. “I know the textbook you are quoting,” he said. “Dungeon keeper Ripgore was a great scholar and I respect his work. But I can’t help but wonder if there was ever a moment of doubt in his long and exceedingly violent career as a dungeon keeper.
“Do you think he ever felt the urge to…” Basil trailed off for a brief moment while searching for the right words.
Elnora averted her gaze to hide her shy smile as she whispered to herself, “My kind has many urges.”
“—to strike out against what is expected of us,” Basil continued. He seemed oblivious to how hard Elnora was trying to hide her blushing cheeks.
The dungeon keeper held out his claws in a show of passion as if grasping for something. “To search beyond the limits prescribed in the rules of the Guild,” he said. “To do more than is required from our position—to live without limits and to seek glory on our own terms…
“Is that not a thousand times more exciting than what dungeon keeping has traditionally been?” he asked.
Basil turned to Elnora, who had by now resorted to folding up the collar of her sleeveless jacket in an effort to hide her blushing face, and delved deeper into his misgivings about his current predicament.
The dungeon keeper clenched his first in a show of anguish. “I hold so much power and responsibility,” he lamented. “My bloodline has been running dungeons and conquering worlds for the Guild of Chaos for generations—a thousand years of ruin. I have taken up that mantle, but why am I not… content with it?”
He spoke of being content, but deep-down Basil knew that the word was ‘happy’. The dungeon keeper felt like he was missing something very important in his life—some as of yet unknown part of himself, maybe—but couldn’t quite come up with a way of filling that void.
“Why has dungeon keeping become so monotonous?” he asked. “And my work—so monotonous and dull. What with all the paperwork and bureaucracy of the Guild… sometimes I just…
“Is there no place left in this universe for adventure?” he asked. “Or am I just going mad?”
Elnora had no answers to give. Just like the collar of her jacket, the succubus was being dragged into something far beyond her prescribed purpose.
Basil winced. This is not the time, he realized. The battle is about to begin. I shouldn’t have said anything.
He shook his head trying to dispel the foolish notion of creeping existential dread. My problems really aren’t something I should concern my minions with.
But the she-demon already appeared to have caught on to her master's line of thought.
“I don’t mind the paperwork,” Elnora said in a quiet voice, as if trying to excuse herself for having dreams and aspirations. “If it gets me ahead in life… I will do what needs to be done.”
Basil realized his blunder and dismissed the topic with the wave of his hand. “Later,” he said, “I think we should continue this conversation later.” Preferably never…
“I am sorry for bringing this up,” he said. “Just… has been on my mind for a while now.”
Elnora popped her head out of the collar and spoke up with more confidence. “I am sorry if I am overstepping my boundaries as an apprentice,” she said, “but I don’t know how the things were done around here in the time of your father. A dungeon keeper has power and influence with the Guild like no other minion could ever have. You, as a descendant of a long line of famous dungeon keepers, have the time to think about such matters. But for me,” she opened her arms and offered her body up on display, “This is all I have. This is all I am. And I want to be more. The Guild is my way forward—unto glory or death.”
I am looking at the world from the top, Basil reminded himself. Of course, the minions wouldn’t feel the same way. Why didn’t I think of it more before questioning the motivations of my apprentice?
Basil was trying to think of a way to apologize to her when he remembered his dungeon keeper’s manual. He picked it up and opened it to find a single line of text superimposed across both pages: “Warning! Intruders are about to breach the throne room!”
The dungeon keeper growled. “Well, that settles it then. Time to get down to business,” he said and pointed to the bronze gate on the opposite side of the chamber. “Our guests have arrived. I hope they can make this as exciting for me as it will be for you.”
Elnora straightened out her posture in anticipation for the coming encounter. She made sure to appear as calm and collected as possible. Intimidation, after all, was key to winning any battle.
This is not about me, Basil reminded himself. The cycle has to continue. I have a job to do and a soul to capture...
He waved his hand and the fires in the braziers grew dim. The chamber turned dark and the throne vanished from view.
Basil once more opened the dungeon keeper’s manual and flipped it over to a page titled ‘Storage’. Within it he selected a tag named ‘Artifacts’ and then navigated the list down to ‘Jewelry’ and then ‘Rings’.
“I could make them really work for it,” Basil whispered to himself. “But this is not about glory; this is about that Guild thing…”
From a long list of available items in his manual the dungeon keeper selected one called Ring of False Promises. The lengthy description of the item held a passage stating that it was a magical artifact crafted from a material commonly referred to as fool’s gold. Out of the six items available in storage, Basil spawned four on his fingers and closed the book.
“Let the battle commence,” he said. The dungeon keeper raised his hand and examined the glistening rings on his fingers. “The trap is set.”