Gladil
“Well, that’s not ominous at all.” The ranger cast a look over his shoulder, both hoping to and hoping not to spot the source of the voice he’d just heard. Unsurprisingly, Gladil saw nobody and nothing capable of speaking to him in the clearing behind him. Even the hedgehog had departed from the tree and was nowhere to be seen.
Whereas most people would not know what to make of this, it did not take long for Gladil to come to the realization that god of the forest had just spoken to him, and made clear its intentions of testing him. If there was a trial before him he would both take and pass it, and prove to this god his faith and worthiness.
To that end, Gladil took a moment to unstrap the longbow from his back and string it. There was no telling what kind of trial this was going to be, and he had no intention of taking it too lightly. There was a certain amount of faith being endowed in him, he knew that because none of the other villagers or dungeoneers who had made it to this clearing had ever been given a chance to take the trial. Just him, Gladil.
He cautiously entered the opening in the trees, peering over each of his shoulders and out into the brush to scan for dangers. The trees here seemed to be taller and darker than the rest of the forest, their canopy almost completely blocking out the sun. He walked along the path for 10 minutes or so before taking a break to look around. Although he was sure the trail he followed was straight he was unable to spot the trial entrance behind him. That was strange because not two minutes ago when he had looked, he would have sworn he saw into the clearing and he’d not turned since then.
Deciding to investigate, he turned back around and tried to retrace his steps. After twenty minutes or so it became apparent that the way was closed, and that Gladil needed to continue along this path until the end. He’d not seen any enemies yet, so it must not be a trial of combat. With that in mind, the elf decided to pick up the pace and find the end of this trail. Every now and then as he ran along he would hear brushing to off the path to either side, or see movement overhead in the branches of the blackened trees.
That was something else that was off putting about the whole experience for Gladil. Not only had the path been sealed, but the trees had gotten progressively darker until they were a mixture of brown and a black metal and did not get lighter or revert as he back pedaled. Although the trees looked different, he couldn’t help but draw similarities between his current location and the spider forests out west. It was disgusting and, at the same time, more than a little terrifying. There hadn’t been any overly large or aggressive spider sightings in the forest but he still remembered the camouflaged spider that had started this whole dungeon fiasco when he and Echil first arrived.
After what felt like three or four hours, Gladil slowed his pace and decided he would take a rest to recuperate. The path he was walking on was almost wide enough for two men to walk shoulder to shoulder, but the brush grew up to and sometimes on the path itself. He centered himself in a mostly clear area along the path where the grass only came up to his shins, rather than his knees like most areas, and sat down to recover his aching legs. He’d been running ever since he realized the path closed behind him.
The feeling of being watched had followed Gladil every step of the way, and he was starting to get jumpy. On top of that his stomach had been doing its best to remind him that he had packed no lunch, and was traveling only on the light breakfast he’d eaten in the forest that morning. There had been days out in the field, back when he was in the army, when he hadn’t eaten for days. So long as he figured out what the god wanted for him before he starved, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be okay.
As he closed his eyes to meditate and pray to his new god, whose name he still did not know, he heard a rustling again. It was no louder than he had been hearing during his journey so he ignored it at first. However it would seem that this was ill advised, because before long the rustling began to pick up in volume and frequency. His eyes finally snapped open at the same time he heard a loud crack from a branch close by being snapped.
Gladil could not believe what he was seeing. As he watched, an oversized boar glared at him from the tree line. The thing was at least three times larger than Gladil, with two tusks that somehow gleamed even in the low light of this dark forest. On top of that, and on top of the boar now that he thought of it, there was a large wicked looking horn. As he observed the new arrival it huffed once and then twice while it pawed at the ground in front of it. Oh, right. Boars were naturally territorial.
“A trial of endurance then, I see. Well, Mr. Direboar, I think that I am going to take my leave.” The boar let out a guttural noise and lowered its head to charge, apparently speaking had agitated it even more. Gladil sprung to his feet before taking off down the path. He could hear a crashing behind him as the boar slammed through bushes and brush alike, but luckily for Gladil, he seemed to be much faster than the boar.
This continued for what felt like days. He’d crash along the never-ending path looking for an exit, and every time he slowed too much or tried to rest he’d hear the direboar behind him again. None of that mattered though.
Gladil’s new god would not have given him a trial without a solution, and so he had to keep going and never stop. After the first few close encounters with the beast, he accepted that the trial must reset every time he tried to rest. He just had to go until the end, and ignore the screaming pain from his legs and stomach. Even his arms and eyes ached at this point, but it didn’t matter. He’d waited too long for an answer to his questions, for a purpose to live, and he was going to get there if it was the last thing he did.
He just had to keep going, this was his last thought as he tripped over a root that had overgrown onto the path. He’d been moving for almost two days, and there was no way for him to stop his descent to the ground as his body had long since stopped listening to him and was functioning purely on momentum. As he fell to the ground, he let out a prayer to his new god. He’d failed this trial and he wanted nothing more than another chance to prove himself. To repent for the hubris that told him to attempt the trial with no preparation. To beg forgiveness for the ego that told him any trial would be easy for him.
The thud as he finally hit the forest floor seemed to echo throughout the trees, and all the critters around stopped to look at him. All around Gladil hedgehogs slowly exited the waist high grass and bramble, and slowly approached the fallen ranger. Gladil noticed none of this, he had passed out long before hitting the ground.
When Gladil was a younger elf, shortly after joining the army, he tried his first drink. It’s not that the elves didn’t have their own alcohol in the forest, but it was reserved for festivals and he’d left home almost the day he came of age to join the military. That being said, the day he had his first drink was a day he wish he hadn't forgotten. From what he was told it had been a riot of a time, with all the men drinking and partying to their heart's content, and both female elves and humans joining in on the merriment.
Several of his fellow army members regaled him with stories of his antics the following morning, of the busty red headed human and his apparent ballad he sang to the tavern while standing on a wobbly table. He remembered none of this apart from what he had been told, but what he did remember was the pounding headache, sore muscles, and what felt like bone fatigue, that following day and well into the week.
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That miserable hangover could not hold a candle to the way he felt right now. Against his will his eyes slowly opened and drank in the new scene around him. He was no longer in the forest, but in a large cavern. So large, in fact, that he could not see any of the walls or the roof above him. It did not help that there was little to no lighting, of course. The only source of light he could see was a faintly glowing moss on the ground not too far from him. Not enough to really see by, but enough to know that his eyes were not still closed.
With a pounding headache and sore muscles, Gladil decided to just sit there and accept that he’d made a mistake. His arrogance had caused him to fail the trial set for him by his new god, and now he was paying his dues. Slowly his senses came under his control again, and he realized that he could hear something. A slow babble of water was resounding from somewhere in the cave, and the ranger could not remember having been this thirsty in a very long time.
After a couple attempts to stand, in which his disorientation in the dark and general fatigue quickly placed him back on his ass, he decided it would be best to crawl toward the noise.
After about 10 minutes of crawling, bumbling his way through the dark and stepping (kneeing?) on every stray pebble, Gladil arrived at the small brook. It was a steady stream of water, surrounded by more of the glowing moss enough to finally see by, that trickled from the roof of the cave into a small pool. The stream was about 2 fingers wide, but that was more than enough for Gladil who had not had anything to drink since his run through the forest started so long ago.
He descended upon the small pooling of water ravenously, desperately lapping up the water before it could evaporate. Of course it made no sense for the water to be evaporating at any sort of rate, but his sleep deprived and malnourished brain did not need to see reason at the moment. There was water, and it had to be consumed before it was cruelly snatched away.
After drinking his fill, his eyes had finally adjusted a bit to the dim lighting and he took in his surroundings. The moss here, around the water, was not only much thicker but seemed to glow brighter as well. He could see dim spots in the darkness of the cavern in the distance, which could very well be more spots of this glowing plant. He also noticed growths in the wall around the brook, and after a bit of investigation, came to the realization that they were camouflaged mushrooms. They did not look like any mushrooms that the ranger knew, but the fact that they were camouflaged instead of bright enticing colors, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten in a very long time, tempted him into testing their edibility.
Gladil had been raised as a wood elf and, whereas they were not as stuck up and fancy as the ‘high elves’, he’d been taught certain manners and etiquette. After he managed to stomach the first bite of the fungus, however, all of that went right out the proverbial window. The starved wood elf clawed into the surrounding walls looking for any edible morsels that he could possibly reach and stuffed them down his gullet as fast as elvenly possible. The spongy feeling of raw fungus would usually have been off putting, but in this very moment, the elastic feel of mushrooms between his fingers and teeth was pure bliss.
Eventually the ravenous impromptu feast was at an end, and with a couple sips of water that he pooled in his hands from the wall, he managed to keep it down. Once again he decided it was time to reflect on his situation. Feeling down and beating himself up about a decision he made that did not work out would get him nowhere, and if he was going to survive that line of thinking needed to stop immediately.
First thought, his god had not abandoned him. Even if he had failed the trial, and he was fairly confident he had, the god had deposited him in the dungeon with food and water to survive rather than allowing the direboar or other forest creatures to ravage him while he was unconscious.
Second thought, he was in the dungeon. He supposed he must have unconsciously realized it sooner, but now that he slowed down and tried to reassess his situation he realized that he was in the dungeon. He’d felt the composition of mana before, when he first scouted out the area, but it was a lot more potent now. The dungeon had grown a lot in a very short amount of time and although it was still obviously a dark dungeon, he could feel a sliver of the forest deity’s power in the ambient mana surrounding him.
His third and fourth thought lined up pretty well. He needed to escape the dungeon and to do that he needed his weapons. He still had his quiver on his back but his bow was not there with it. Cursing himself for not checking his surroundings when he first awoke before crawling off to the water, he began to backtrack. He followed the furrows that his knees had created back to where he woke up and found his bow. He also found a small leaf parcel filled with forest nuts and three very juicy looking apples. Damn his overreactions earlier! Of course his god had given him the resources he needed to succeed. Not only had he failed the trial due to his own hubris, but he’d even lost faith in his new selected deity. These were not mistakes that he could afford to make again, and he intended to repent.
The ranger decided to try his luck walking back to the stream, intending to follow the wall back to an opening of some sort, using his longbow for support. To his surprise he found that when he stood he did not need the bow for support, and his legs were functioning again. Not only that but the abrasions and small cuts that he’d received crawling on the cave floor were mostly sealed up. Either the dungeon, his new god, or the mushrooms, had healed him. Either of the three options convinced him that he was in a safe room.
Safe rooms were areas in dungeons that allowed the delvers to rest and recover, and were usually located far into the dungeon on later floors. Gladil did not know if that boded well or ill for him. On one hand, he may be able to leave close to his ideal condition but he could also be far deeper than he was prepared to escape from. There was only one way to find out.
Gladil made his way back to the stream and drank his fill once more before following the wall. After 30 minutes or so of walking, he finally came to an opening. The tunnel was lined with the glowing moss and allowed for a small amount of low-light vision. He slowly made his way through the tunnel before coming to a smaller, but still largish, chamber. The chamber was much more brightly lit and had two other entrances/exits. There was what looked to be a set of stairs leading down on one side of the room and another tunnel opposite it. It may have been his hopefulness speaking, but he could almost swear that the tunnel inclined upwards.
The most important feature in the room, however, was a disgusting looking snot-colored monster with two tusks, staring at him with hate filled eyes. Both Gladil and the creature gazed intently at each other for a while, before the room’s guardian huffed and kicked dirt behind him. As it flexed, Gladil could see muscles rippling under his too-loose skin.
Right. Safe rooms were usually located after a floor boss, and he hadn’t defeated the boss before arriving in the safe room. The ranger really wished that his memory would stop failing him so, and hoped this was just due to the sleep deprivation.
With a silent prayer to the forest god, he prepared to fight for his life.