-[Act 1 * Part 2]-

A ragged band of adventurers cautiously advanced down the hallway. Surrounding them was a field of carnage and ruin. Sundered bits of armor and broken weapons; guts and blood from a hundred slain demon warriors and beasts covered the ground. Above the sea of red the remains of black stone golems struck out like ashen islands—beaten, broken and crumbling like so many heaps of dried out clay. Even as the last vestiges of magic left their ruined bodies, the emerald gemstone eyes of the arcane constructs still burned with vicious hatred for the victorious intruders as they advanced deeper into the dungeon.

The stone sentinels and demon warriors had failed in their task of protecting the inner most sanctum of their home. Yet, unknown to the intruders, this was exactly what their dark master had intended. The adventurers would advance, as they had every single time before. And then, when the last defender had been slain; the last minion had laid down his life for the besieged heart of darkness, the soul of the dungeon—its core—then and only then would the intruders have the honor of facing the master of this place most foul and unholy.

On this particular occasion the war band contained members hailing from all of the three major bloodlines of the kith: elves, dwarves and men. Their long and arduous journey had taken the brave invaders to the entrance to the throne room. Of the one hundred heroes that had embarked on this perilous quest only twenty six now remained. Their paltry number would soon have to face the most dangerous of all the monsters that dwelled within these halls—a creature so sinister that it commanded the respect and loyalty of all the minions that they had slain along the way—the dungeon keeper, Basil von Doom.

Whispered chanting could be heard from the ranks of the intruders. Maiden Solar, watch over your flock… Keep us from harm and bless your faithful sons and daughters… Empire Solar—empire eternal…”

A sense of grim foreboding was shared amongst the remaining members of the expedition. They clutched their holy talismans and relics, praying to their beloved goddess for protection, but all they could hear were the pain filled howls of mortally wounded monsters breathing their last. With the burden of their Empire’s survival weighing heavy on their shoulders, they marched on, rightfully dreading the coming encounter with the dark lord.

“This has to be it,” Aidan said and pressed his armor clad hand up against the polished bronze surface of the throne room door. “The fated battle is at hand. By the Maiden’s grace we have been delivered to the heart of the monster’s lair.”

The passage that stood closed before him was as tall as a mountain giant and at least a quarter as wide. On any sensible occasion it could have served as the main gate of a prosperous merchant city or an imperial palace, but to lay one’s eyes upon such a marvelous thing in a place like this—the deepest, darkest corner of a dungeon—was an experience none could have prepared them for. Their lives they had forfeited already, but a modicum of hope had still remained. Until now, that is…

It was here, in the heart of his enemy’s lair, that Aidan found himself hesitating for the first time since their journey had begun. Faced with the unknown horrors that dwelled on the opposite side of the ominous gate, he couldn’t help but to doubt his decision to launch this attack.

“Maiden, forgive me,” Aidan whispered in lamentation. “Slay the keeper of the dungeon—save the world. But what if we can’t… What if we are not strong enough?”

He looked back at his companions to measure their resolve. Maybe one of them could find the words of encouragement that he so badly wished to hear? The decision to look back turned out to be a mistake, however, as seeing the battle scared chamber behind him with a clear mind made Aidan realize just how incredible this underground empire really was.

Behind them spanned a black marble hall the entire length of which was brightly lit by massive golden chandeliers. The steel chains that bore their weight reached up and into the darkness that shrouded the ceiling high above.

Gazing up at the darkness Aidan felt like he was staring into an abyss. Even more disheartening to him was the nagging sensation that someone—or something—might be staring back at him from the unfathomable reaches above. He felt very strongly as though they were being watched.

As he looked to his companions Aidan recognized the telling signs of despair, hiding just below the surface of their battle weary expressions. It seemed like not one among them had the fortitude to offer the words of encouragement so badly needed. Too much had already been said and promised. Too few of their comrades had survived, so it felt like folly to promise them glory and vindication on a quest where only death had so far been found. Those that remained standing at Aidan’s side did so quietly. They awaited his decision to advance—or not to. As he was the senior fighter among them, that choice fell on Aidan’s already heavy shoulders.

This unspoken call for guidance was exactly what Aidan needed to reaffirm his commitment to the cause. He was a natural born leader and by the Maiden’s light, he would lead them against the darkness. Along with his sister, Nadia, the gray haired warrior was the most experienced and capable of heroes in all of the human realms, and he was not going to let his people down. Not when complete victory over the forces of the invaders was finally within his grasp.

Aidan took to rousing his companions for the final battle. “Take heart!” he said. “Much has been lost, I know… but many more lives will be saved when we will complete out holy task!

“The monstrous armies of the dark lord gather around our capital city at this very moment. They will find naught but death at its walls! We will rouse our people for one final stand against the encroaching darkness and drive it from hour sacred lands when we return triumphant with the dark lord’s head in hand!”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Aidan raised his sword as he issued his rallying cry. “Thank the Maiden for her blessings, for we are putting an end to Basil’s reign of terror today! We are her chosen few! And we shall not stray from the golden path!”

His companions replied to his challenge with a loud and courageous roar—an expression of their willingness to press onwards, no matter what horrors dwelled beyond the glistening bronze gate. They were the best that their world had to offer, after all. Who else, but them could slay the beast?

Aidan turned to the gray haired priestess at the back of their group. “Nadia?”

“Aidan,” the old woman replied and nodded to affirm her readiness.

“The Maiden’s blessings have carried us this far,” she announced, “but know that her holy power burns in each and every one of us! I know that we can succeed, for her golden spirit, ever bright as the sun, walks among us.”

His sister then cast a spell of [Mass Divine Protection] over their entire group. When the casting was done the old priestess took her place among the other spell casters in the back and gave her brother the signal to advance.

Having kissed his golden sun emblem on the hilt of his sword for good luck, Aidan led the way. The burly human warrior pushed himself up against the massive bronze door. It took him a moment to force it open, but once the door parted the passage opened wide to receive the intruders. Once he was through Aidan readied his two handed sword for the onslaught to come.

His companions were quick to follow. They clustered together at the threshold, ready and willing to charge into the chamber beyond, but their zeal for battle was dispersed quickly enough once they cast their eyes upon the battlefield awaiting them. They had expected a room and a throne, but what met them on the other side of the bronze gate was a chamber as vast as it was awe inspiring. In the wake of the discovery their already slow advance ground to a halt as the foolish kith were made to realize the scope of the unholy seat of power that they sought to destroy.

A throne room like none other welcomed the intruders as they stumbled through the threshold. Tall pillars of gray stone ran in endless rows towards the middle of the vast chamber. Fiendish whispers echoed from the darkness and the ceiling above them was shrouded in what looked to be a black mist. Crude iron braziers clung to the massive stone columns and drowned the smoke filled chamber in a violent red glow. The hungry flames licked their black iron cages with gluttonous tongues. Untamed, unnatural and entirely hostile to all that was holy and pure, the lively red flames were the birthmark of chaos and its creatures, the greatest of which the band of mortals was now about to engage in a fight to the bitter end.

As Aidan advanced deeper he sighted his goal—the pyramid like construct at the top of which his enemy’s throne stood. The black surface of the obsidian steps glistened in the red light cast by the demonic fires. The bottom most steps were lit well enough, but the throne at the top remained covered in dusk. And seated upon it was the prince of darkness himself, the lord of this fiendish realm and the keeper of this dungeon—Basil von Doom. Only his vague outline could be seen through the shroud twisting smoke, but his prodigious size alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the intruders.

The brave companions followed Aidan into the chamber and spread themselves out in-between several rows of pillars. Human knights in full plate armor stood shoulder to shoulder with heavy chainmail laden dwarven warriors at the front of their group. Behind them skulked a few elven rangers and roguish looking types. Lastly, several mages and priest of various creeds surveyed the battlefield from the relative safety of the rear line.

They kept a loose formation. The party had positioned itself in such a manner as to cover more ground in case of a powerful area of effect spell being cast in their direction. The disadvantage of such a tactical decision was that it left them more vulnerable to any remaining enemy minions that could seek to isolate and overwhelm them one by one.

“See to the flanks,” Aidan ordered his fighters as he himself took to the front of the formation. As the greatest of all the warriors, standing tall and proud at the front of his group, he would serve as its driving force—the tip of the spear.

Nadia abandoned the relative safety of the rear line, pushed past the other warriors and took up position at her brother’s side. Her wrinkled hands held fast to her main weapon—a pearl white staff adorned with holy scriptures. As a priestess of considerable age, experience and worldwide renown, she was the only spell caster on par in power with the champion warrior leading their group. She was the only support caster in all of Empire Solar who could keep up with him in a heated battle.

“It is time, brother,” she told Aidan and levitated her spell book before her. “Either we kill the beast or the Maiden will. This is our finest moment, so let’s make it count.”

The heavy leather bound tome remained hovering in the air as she turned to channeling its arcane power for the battle to come. The pages flipped over one by one and symbols of red, blue and gold flashed in and out of existence around the spell caster as her magic bolstered the kith around her.

Slow, guttural laughter rang out across the chamber. It immediately gripped the hearts of the intruders and drew their attention to the throne.

A thunderous voice called out to them. “By all means,” Basil said. “Take your time. Make your preparations. I am not going anywhere.”

Aidan surveyed the throne room in search of enemy minions. “Reveal yourself, foul beast!” he commanded in an attempt to goad the dungeon keeper into dispersing the dusk.

“As you wish,” Basil replied.

Following a loud snap of the Basil’s claws, the dusk surrounding the top of the obsidian pyramid began to fade and an enormous demon was revealed sitting upon the throne. His body was clad in thick slabs of metal armor the crude shapes of which struck out like the thorns of a particularly degenerate rose. His hulking shape was half wrapped in crimson cloth and the helmet resting at the foot of the throne resembled the gaping maw of a dragon—an artistic recreation of a fearsome beast in its own right, but nothing quite like the unholy creature that reigned in this realm of darkness.

Aidan had come here expecting the worst and had steeled his heart accordingly. Yet the striking visage of the dungeon keeper seemed to defy his innate class ability to resist fear. Although the aura of dread emanating from the throne failed to overwhelm him, Aidan could do nothing to disperse the sense of doom that weighed heavily on his mind.

“Keep focus on the task at hand,” Nadia advised him. “The demon must die—that must be your only concern. Forget our friends. We will meet them in the afterlife, in the summer gardens of our Maiden Solar.”

Aidan winced. “It is as I feared,” he said and glance at the brave companions advancing alongside him. “Few of us will live to tell of this battle.”

Nadia nodded. “Their sacrifice will be honored,” she said. “Now focus—we have one last monster to kill.”