Quietly, she closed the door behind her and held her torch high to see where she was. She was standing on a ledge. Before her opened up a pit so deep and dark she could not see the bottom. It was wide and cavernous, large enough to house a theater. On the other side she could see the remnants of a broken bridge and the statue of a gargoyle next to an open doorway that led to a corridor lit with bright torches. On her side, two pillars stood, one broken, the other straight and true. Only one step of the bridge remained before her and it was cracked and crumbling. Can I throw my rope across that? She thought she could. She had a grappling hook and her own rope as well as the thicker hemp rope she had taken off the goblin. Then something caught her eye.
It was a red thing that glimmered down in the dark, on her side of the pit. Calista stepped as far as she dared onto the crumbling step and got down on one knee as she held her torch out and looked down. Whatever it was, it was positioned just right to catch the light. She could see the shine. It was metal.
Two paths stood before her and she had to choose which was the right one. If Cat’s Eye is to be believed, straight on has to be the smugglers path. She looked again at the torches. I’ll make that way first. A plan was coming to her and she wasn’t sure she liked it, but deep down, Calista was a Delver and if there was one thing delvers couldn’t resist, it was a mysterious dungeon.
Taking her rope and hook from her inventory, she took a deep breath and began whirling it beside her. Okay, you can do this. With a toss, she landed the hook right between the wings of the gargoyle and with a clink, pulled it tight. Holding the rope taught, she then wrapped her end around the sound pillar and tied it firm.
Alright, I’m an idiot, but I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do this. She then unslung the thick hemp rope from her shoulder, wrapped it around the base of the broken pillar, and dropped the free end into the pit. Alright girl, this is it. You’re the only one left. Whatever you’re getting yourself into, whatever it is, if you can’t get yourself out, all your friends are probably going to die. She then took her torch and tucked it in to a strap on her pack, grabbed the hemp rope and swung out onto the ledge.
With a kick, she swung out and then landed with her feet against the wall. began her descent. Down she climbed. It was easier than she thought it would be. The wall was rough and dry and allowed her feet to practically stick to it. Hand over hand, feet scraping against the rock, she descended until she was almost level with the thing of shining red.
A flurry of leathery wings sounded below her. Whatever it was, it was coming right up for her. Oh great, bats. She closed her eyes and braced herself. When the host reached her, the bats swarmed around her so thick she could barely see the wall. The noise was incredible as none of the bats made a sound but for their wings. When they had passed, she looked up and watched them turn and disappear down the lit corridor. I hate bats. By the gods, I hope this isn’t a vampire lair.
Taking another deep breath, she lowered herself the last few feet until she felt her feet slip. Holding herself with one hand, she took the torch off her pack and aimed it down. Below, she could see a short ledge with the pointed blade of a long sword sticking out from an opening on the wall. Its blade was colored blood red.
A doorway!
With a hop, she swung down onto the ledge. However, as her feet met the rock, it began to crumble and just as she felt her palm slip against the rope, she dropped her torch and grabbed it with her free hand. Hanging, she looked down to watch the torch fall. And fall. And fall. After a long minute, it looked like a distant star against the depths and then it disappeared. Did it land or did it go out? She decided it was best not to wonder.
She couldn’t see what was before her, but there was no helping that now. She had to either go forward or back up. However, she was a Delver and she had seen the red blade and had a guess what that meant. With a twist, she swung her legs forward and launched herself into the dark. For the briefest of moments, her heart caught in her throat, but then she landed and held herself there, quiet and still as she waited to see if it was safe. No sound. All was quiet. She was safe, at least for now.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Selecting another torch from her inventory, she held it up and looked how far she had gone and judged she had gone several hundred meters. I didn’t feel like I had been climbing that long. Weird. Then she reached down and picked up the sword. Turning it over in the light, she inspected it. Exactly what I thought. Red steel. This is a demon’s blade. Although it almost surely wasn’t as powerful as her Emberblade, it was a formidable weapon nonetheless. Perhaps I’ll give it to Grumner when I find him. If he’s alive.
She tucked the sword into her inventory, then looked down the tunnel and gasped. Oh my stars and garters. Two dead demons lay at the foot of a narrow stairway. More weapons lay at their sides. A green steel spear and a black steel axe. This was a battle. She walked over to the bodies and took a knee as she inspected them. Their bodies were fresh. These two have been dead less than a day. How did they get in here?
She thought back to what she knew about demons from her first time playing Sable Unlimited. These two were Vrocks, vulture men with wings and spines and wicked beaks. They were dressed in black leather armor adorned with silver. Vrocks are horrifying. What could have killed them? She looked them over to see if she could find a cause of death, but no wounds were visible. Then she felt down at the neck of the nearest one and immediately her question was answered. Their bones are broken. Telekinesis.
Whoever had killed these two knew some very powerful magic. She stood. That settled it. Every bone in her body wanted to turn around and go back up that rope but she knew better. Something powerful was at the top of that stairway.
More bodies. These were quasits. Lower demons with the body of an insect, but the skin of a lizard. Pointed ears, black eyes, horns, wings, and terrible claws. A dozen of them littered the stairs, their blood covering the steps in a thick inky black. No inspection was necessary here. The quasits had died in a hail of blades that she could see sticking out of their skin like tiny mirrors. Wow. Who did these guys piss off?
She climbed carefully here, picking her way around the bodies and careful not to slip in the blood. When she reached the top of the stairs, she was greeted by a broken stone doorway covered in carved runes. She tilted her torch forward to see if she could read them. Elvish. ‘Whoever passes through this door shall be a friend or find themselves called foe.’ Well, let’s hope they’re open to dialogue.
With a push, the remnants of the door swung open easily. Inside, she found herself standing in a spacious room with two long tables covered in instruments laid out in orderly fashion. The shelves on the walls held all manner of phial and beaker and jars holding strange and wonderful things. In one jar, she saw a tiny wind elemental swirling around. In another, a mist of fire. Another jar had a bubbling green slime that startled her when it opened up its eyes.
“Oh hi,” she said, but the jar did not answer.
Turning, she looked around the rest of the room. Was that it? Where are the rest of the demons? Or did this wizard kill them all on the steps? It didn’t add up. The quasits died on the stairs while the vrocks died at the bottom. That meant the wizard had managed to kill the vrocks first, which didn’t make sense because she knew demons never led from the front. Circling the room, she rounded the far end of the first table and found her answer lying on the floor. It was huge and red and its body had been withered to a husk. Two heads stuck out from atop it. A two headed balor. Someone killed it with an aging spell. She thought through her knowledge of the game. The only spell I know that could do that would be Power Word Death and you don’t get access to that until you reach level fifty. What in the name of Wraath happened here? I thought this was the beginner area.
Using her torch, she looked around the rest of the room but could find no other bodies. It was just the one balor. Looking along the shelves, she found herself tempted to just start taking things, but then she remembered the words written on the door. ‘Whoever passes through this door shall be a friend or find themselves called foe.’ She looked again at the dead, two headed balor. Yeah, let’s be careful about that one.
She knew there had to be something useful here, whether it was an weapon or information or a spell book labeled ‘Don’t Touch Unless Your Name is Calista.’ Inspecting the tables, she found nothing worth the risk. A magnifying glass, several dusty tomes (one of them a bug collection carefully laid out and lying open) and numerous pins, needles, pincers, knives, spoons, phials, and even a boiling pot filled with a mysterious blue liquid. The shelves were no better as everything there looked like an experiment either carefully planned or gone horribly wrong. Briefly, she considered taking the bottle of green slime with the eyes, but then, out of the corner of her eye, her torch illuminated a desk along the wall.
Oh my, I didn’t notice the desk before. She approached carefully, not daring to disturb anything. There, lying on the desk, was a small metal cube. Made of silver, it had the shapes of warriors and wizards and monsters carved into it. Inside, she could see the faint glimmer of golden light, as though a firebug was hidden inside. Maybe I can grab it and run out before anything bad happens. She looked back at the open door.
“Hey there sweet cheeks, I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”