“Look sharp, everyone. Buff up.”
Braum took point as the [Breakers] entered the portal to the [Obsidian Mansion]. His face was an impenetrable stone mask, but his beard helped hide the tiny tremble of his lips. He was excited.
People often wondered why somebody might become an adventurer. Some might say, rightfully so, that it was just a job like any other. It paid the bills, offered excitement and never-ending challenges, though it was offset by occupational hazards. But critics and observers often forgot one thing when discussing his chosen profession.
Delving dungeons was fun.
Braum never lost the spark of joy when setting off into the unknown, not even after his first death. Oh, it tempered him and helped him set his expectations to reasonable levels. But every time he got the chance to run a dungeon he hadn’t seen in years, Braum couldn’t stop the giddiness bubbling up inside. It was like having a reunion with an old friend he hadn’t met in decades. No, more than a friend; a rival. Where they tried to conquer each other.
Braum couldn’t fully hide his excitement, and his teammates saw right through his facade of calm. They said nothing, but didn’t try to hide their own smirks. They were all professionals, and now it was time to get to work. Braum braced himself for the inevitable rush of power that came with a full suite of raid-level buffs.
“[Blood Pact].”
“[Mark of the Wild]. [Thorns].”
“[Horn of Winter].”
“[Tricks of the Trade].”
Braum felt electricity prickle on his skin as refined magic coursed through his veins like blood. He flexed his gauntleted hand to expel some of the rush before it reached his head, and he added a buff of his own.
“[Blessing of Kings].”
Grunts and sighs from his party members behind him told Braum they were dealing with the boosts in their own ways. It was easy to let the power get to one’s head. But they were wandering into uncharted territory; they needed to stay calm and collected.
Especially since first expeditions into a dungeon weren’t exactly what the public imagined.
Alongside Baum’s heavy hammer and shield, he carried a notebook. Each member of the team did, just in case they noticed something that needed to be jotted down.
…except Evra. She delegated that task to her Imp.
Braum gave the little gremlin an exasperated stare. Imps were mischievous creatures, but relatively harmless for their level. Meaning, yes, of course Pizjub, Evra’s Imp, could probably ransack a low-level village all on its own. But even a rank 7 could stand up to it, no questions asked, despite being 300 levels lower than it. However, they were hardly a threat to any dungeon monsters and mostly went ignored, so the Imp clutched the writing pad close to its chest like a tower shield and danced around gleefully.
“Who’s on [Biscuit] duty today?” The hollow voice of Angus echoed off the cavern walls.
“Not necessary,” Braum raised a hand. “Save your stomach for the trials ahead. The reports suggest there’s a commissary of sorts up ahead. If they sell food, we need to be able to eat it.”
“Ohh, dungeon food,” Rook said with a grin. “Tha’ oughta be interestin’.”
Braum agreed. In fact, ever since meeting with LeFluer, Braum had been saving his appetite. No matter how high level he was, there was only so much he could eat in a day. So many things needed to be tested!
But they would test none of it by standing in the entry hall, so Braum led them forward. It was exactly as Remmy had described: a short tunnel reminiscent of a cave that led into a vast, open room.
“Now tha’s impressive,” Rook whistled. The [Rogue] had slipped into [Stealth] but kept to his spot in the formation. Unless Braum asked him specifically to scout ahead, there was no worry that he’d sneak off.
“Mob check,” Warren’s voice floated down to the group of dwarves. Braum readied his shield, but he knew what to expect. At a podium next to the cave’s exit was a pair of floating gloves. They weren’t aggressive, not that the [Breakers] entered their detection range.
“Don’ see tha’ every day,” Evra hummed. “Braum. Do we kill ‘em now, or later?”
Braum weighed the gloves in his mind’s eye and cast [Inspect].
[Spectral Usher]
Elite
Level: 1002
“Oof,” Braum muttered. “That’s a beastie. Nothing we can’t handle, but we don’t attack yet. Let’s see what there is to see.”
Braum stepped closer, and as he was told, the gloves reacted as soon as he’d set foot onto the plush crimson carpet of the lobby. He felt a tingle of anticipation alongside that sixth sense that told him a monster was targeting him, but he held his ground and did nothing.
“Tickets…,” a cold, hollow voice rang out from somewhere amidst the gloves’ floating form. Evra couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“Sounds an awful lot like Angus,” she cackled. “Heh, once yeh finally kick tha bucket fer good, maybe yeh can apply fer a job.”
“I’ll kick your bucket, you old hag,” Angus grumped, but the tinny warble in his voice told Braum he was amused. Braum ignored them and stepped up to the podium. The gloves did not turn hostile, which was a good sign.
“And how might one go about acquiring a ticket, my good…er…[Usher]?”
Braum felt weird addressing a pair of gloves, but the act of talking to a dungeon monster was something he’d experienced before. Not all monsters were mindless beasts, but just because they were intelligent didn’t mean they were as sapient as everybody else. From his findings in other places, particularly dungeons that focused on ancient civilizations or recountings of Humanity’s greatest trials, Braum knew monsters could talk. But their conversations were closer to…how should he say it? A repository of information that could be summoned by asking the right questions. Like one of those insane inventions the gnomes occasionally produced (when they weren’t busy blowing themselves up) that could record things. Braum was fascinated by magitech and owned two gramophones. He even had a [Picto-box] on order, but those took time to develop.
“Tickets…,” the voice slowly repeated. At first, Braum feared the monster could only repeat itself. But then it continued, “...are available at the stand.”
The gloves dipped down behind the podium and returned with a gilded, velvet portfolio. Inside the folder was a single piece of parchment, and Braum took it with a nod of thanks. He glanced once more at the hands before retreating to his team.
“Would you look at that,” Warren muttered like a rush of wind through the leaves. He’d already shifted into his tree form, a tall, gnarled oak that had moss growing for a beard. Braum held the pamphlet far enough in front of him so the others could peer around him and see.
[Tickets to the Obsidian Mansion]
Now Showing: The House that Death Built
Introduction by Bartholomew Cromwell: Admission [Free]
Act 1: What Lies Beneath {Access Granted}
Act 2: Of [Mages] and Men {Conditions Unmet}
Act 3: For Whom the Gnome Toils {Conditions Unmet}
LOCKED {Conditions Unmet}
Final Act {Conditions Unmet}
“Hmm,” Evra leaned closer, clearly intrigued. “A play? By tha [Bard], no less.”
“And here I thought monsters would be the end of me,” Warren chuckled. “It seems we might be bored to death. No amount of healing can counter that.”
“Uncultured driftwood,” Evra scoffed. “I’ll bore you….”
Braum ignored their bickering. It was in good fun. He turned back to the [Usher]
“I was wondering if there might be a chance to go backstage?” He asked. “To meet the cast, as it were?”
He was hedging his bets. Remmy had told him the ill-fated expedition was doomed by poor choices and a dressing room coat. But he didn’t see anything about that on the playbill.
At his question, the gloves seemed to vibrate with power. At first, the group thought it might turn hostile, and Braum hastily raised his shield, but it settled down after a moment and pointed at the parchment.
“By…appointment…only…,” the gloves said. Braum looked down and noticed a new line had been scribbled onto the listing.
[Tickets to the Obsidian Mansion]
Now Showing: The House that Death Built
Introduction by Bartholomew Cromwell: Admission [Free]
Backstage Pass {Access Denied}
Act 1: What Lies Beneath {Access Granted}
Act 2: Of [Mages] and Men {Conditions Unmet}
Act 3: For Whom the Gnome Toils {Conditions Unmet}
LOCKED {Conditions Unmet}
Final Act {Conditions Unmet}
Hmmm. Just because dungeons could answer questions didn’t mean they had to be cooperative. Braum made a mental note that the [Usher] was willing to disclose the existence of an alternate route, but would say no more. From Remmy, Braum learned the key to acquiring a backstage pass lay through thievery, so the [Breakers] wouldn’t need to discover that on their own. They also wouldn’t take that route right now, as they had other things to decide first.
“Well, I suppose we’ll take 5 tickets for Act 1 then,” Braum said pleasantly.
The gloves glowed and produced several thin, silvery slips, handing one to each member. Braum thanked the [Usher] with a nod, but the gloves went back to their original spot and said no more.
“Well, that’s a first,” Warren said, fingering his ticket with the stick-like fingers at the end of his branch-like arms. Trees did not have nearly the same amount of dexterity as a human, so he turned back into his regular wolfkin self. “I suppose, for the moment, we won’t be needing that.”
Braum nodded. As long as he could buy the druid more than a second of uninterrupted time, he could transform at a moment’s notice. The group turned its attention to the room as a whole.
“Lot o’ space,” Rook mused. “Quite tha crowd could gather here.”
“Indeed,” Braum nodded. “I wonder if it’s an omen of what’s to come. Nightmare difficulty…level 1000 monsters…this is a raid, for sure.”
“Well, I know what I’d like ta raid,” Evra said. “I spy tha concessions.”
Braum led the group toward the long counter, which filled almost the entire wall of the lobby. Pristine glass counters were crystal clear, and through them countless treats were on display. Braum could also smell fresh [Popcorn] being made, drowned in butter. Before he realized it, he was drooling.
“Well,” he gave a weak chuckle. “I guess I know what we’re conquering first.”
Much like the ticket podium, the counter was home to another set of monsters. Every dozen paces or so, pairs of gloves floated in sets of two. [Ethereal Custodians] were what these ones were called, and as Braum approached the counter, the nearest pair floated over.
“Snaaaaaacks…?” they asked.
Now this was a dilemma. This time Braum didn’t need to ask for a listing, because all the offerings were proudly displayed on an overhead menu. And there was a lot. Some of the most famous delicacies from across the lands were served here. As a connoisseur of fine things, Braum had tasted most of these candies. And, to his great surprise, there were a few he hadn’t tried. Had they stopped production long ago, depending on when this opera house was built? Or were they a dungeon exclusive? He narrowed his eyes.
“Mints,” he said with finality. “I’ll take those [Sno-Caps].”
“2…copper…,” the gloves said, placing a small carton of chocolates on the counter. Braum gleefully relinquished his hard-earned coin and hoarded the box for himself. As he expected, a gnarled old hand was stealthily reaching toward them.
“Ach!” Braum cursed and glared at Evra. “Back, you old crone! Buy your own! And make sure you get something else; we need to test for buffs!”
It was, after all, his duty to explore every facet of a dungeon.
In the name of science (or something like that), the [Breakers] sampled everything on the menu. From common goods like [Hot Dogs] and [Buttered Popcorn] to elusive things like [Licorice Rope] and [Malt Balls], the concession had it all. And the items weren’t only being sold as-is, but they could be customized, too. Evra declared [Popcorn] her domain and was then treated to a variety of feasts. Buttered, caramel-covered, salted, and even a version that was blanketed by a bright orange cheese-powder that looked positively dangerous.
She was not, however, afflicted by some sort of bizarre toxic debuff. Instead, she received a very ordinary, common-grade food buff. Each flavor of popcorn seemed to have a slight variation, such as the fact that [Buttered Popcorn] boosted her Wisdom by an extra percent, while [Kettle Corn] buffed her Spirit.
The same could be said for all the foods they tried over the course of two hours. Perhaps it might not have taken them that long normally, but in order to receive the buffs, they had to eat an entire portion. And in Evra’s case, a bucket of popcorn was no small task. Angus had no issues scarfing down at least 10 [Hot Dogs] covered in different condiments, including a novel [Chili Dog]. Braum made a note to find where those originated.
There wasn’t much to do inside the lobby besides receiving tickets and purchasing food. After the novelty of exploring a fancy theater-like entryway wore thin, the group moved on to the next task: entering the auditorium itself. They located the [Spectral Usher] at the large doors and handed in their tickets. Braum gasped as he stepped into the largest theater he’d ever laid his eyes on, but more so due to how the dungeon had packed it out. Thousands of very low-level shades, [Umbral Patrons], milled about and took up seats. Braum glanced at his ticket, located their area, and once again wondered if he was actually in a dungeon as he had to elbow a [Patron] out of the way so he could sit down.
The house lights dimmed, and the stage announcer took his place. They sat in silence and listened to what ended up being a relatively short curtain speech, though by the end, Braum was enraptured. Willcox Wobblefist was perhaps the most famous non-combatant Visitor of the previous age, and this was one of his lost plays! Braum sent a prayer of thanks to Chaos for preserving the man’s legacy and asked only that he be given an open heart and ears to hear what she had to say.
As the curtain rose, several portals appeared on stage, and the group made their way down to investigate.
Like everything else in the dungeon so far, the stage appeared benign. Harmless, if it could be said of a dungeon, and Braum really did get the impression of a greater dungeon lobby. Two of the three portals were clearly locked off, but they matched the description Braum had read on the theater playbill. He could only assume that to enter Acts 2 and 3, they needed to clear Act 1 first.
Which led them to their first major choice.
“A’right lad,” Braum said with a sigh once they’d fully checked the stage for any trapdoors or hidden exits. “We’ve got 2 options.”
“Enter Act 1,” Angus said, “Or…?”
“Hmm, I suppose we have 3. Entering the Act is option 3.”
“Ahh,” Rook said in understanding. “Shall I procure a set of backstage passes?”
“Aye, that’s option 2.”
“So what’s option 1?” Evra asked. Braum nodded grimly.
“We kill everything we’ve seen so far.”
The warm smiles and joking attitudes the others had adopted since their impromptu feast evaporated. Warren shifted back into his tree form while the others shook out their limbs. One of the primary responsibilities of the [Breakers] was to test everything. The Guild wanted to know every little detail of a dungeon so it could be prepared for every eventuality. If they’d had a dossier of this place beforehand, maybe those foolish adventurers wouldn't have stumbled around so recklessly.
Oh, who was he kidding? They absolutely would have.
But the Guild needed information. Such as, what would it take to make the [Ushers] hostile? They were elites, but how deadly were they? If one was aggravated, would it call upon all the rest? Or would it summon other allies? How hard did they hit, what sort of spells did they cast, what weapons did they wield…what was their loot and what did they drop?
At the end of the day, no matter what Braum’s stance was or how much he disagreed, the Guild only saw dungeons as a business enterprise. They didn’t care much for the history being told…except for how it might line their pockets as they sold information dossiers.
The [Breakers] took no fanatical joy in what they were about to do, but “option 1” was chosen unanimously. Braum had everyone reapply their buffs and it was time to get to work.
Braum lifted his shield, gripped his hammer, and steeled his nerves. With his team several paces behind him, he marched resolutely toward the ticket podium. The time for words was behind them. He lowered the visor on his helm, and as soon as he was within range, he activated his first skill. [Avenger’s Shield].
Helena, hear me, Braum prayed, Keeper of the Hearth, Lady of the Living Flame.
The gloves instantly turned hostile. A deep red glow burst around them like an aura of rage, and they curled into fists as they responded to the attack. To Braum’s grim acceptance, their health had barely dipped. Very rarely did he fight a beast above rank 9, and even those might see some real damage from his opening move. Here, these gloves were merely inconvenienced.
They were fast and disorienting. Without a visible body attached to them, they did not operate as hands ought. They threw punches wildly, indiscriminately, and each punch pounded into Braum’s shield like a battering ram. The first punch stopped him in his tracks as he braced for impact, skidding to a halt, and the next shoved him slightly back.
As I leave my hearth for the fires of war, I place my home in Your hands. Watch over those who wait behind my door. Let my children know laughter, let my kin know warm bread and brighter mornings, and let no shadow find welcome beneath my roof while Your flame yet burns.
After the initial volley of blows, his companions let loose a barrage of magic and attacks. Evra cast [Afflictions] and[Curses], and Braum watched the [Usher]’s health noticeably dip as the damage over time stacked up. Rook appeared behind the gloves in a puff of smoke, slashing forward with his daggers, while Angus let loose a [Blood Plague].
Lay Your hammer upon my walls as a shield. Temper my home as You temper good steel—strong enough to weather every blow, warm enough to welcome every soul who enters in peace.
The [Usher] would not be so easily killed. It prepared to use its first ability and Braum could feel something changing. The gloves froze momentarily as they locked in place; Braum clutched his shield tighter. And then, without warning, the right-hand glove grew. It swelled to a massive size, no longer fitting of a human hand, but something closer to a [Giant]. It was wider than Braum was tall…but it didn’t curl into a fist and try to smash him into the ground. Instead, it opened wide, displaying the flat of its palm…and rushed forward with a gush of wind and slapped Braum bodily. The force lifted him off his feet. He was picked up and thrown a dozen feet through the air, skidding to a halt while crashing through some of the lobby’s fixtures. Braum blinked, dazed. He’d been hit harder before, by stronger things. But this wasn’t an ordinary attack; he was now debuffed. [Dazed]. [Disarmed]. Braum tried to focus his vision as he glanced down, shocked to see his shield lying 20 feet away from him and his hammer nowhere to be seen. As he struggled to his feet, the gloves rushed toward him, ready to strike him down.
Now I take up sword and shield in the name of our people. Steady my arm as You guide the smith's hammer. Let my courage be true, my resolve unbroken, and my heart burn with the fire You first kindled in our fathers and mothers beneath the mountains.
The light of Warren’s [Nature’s Gift] enveloped Braum, even as the gloves, both massive now, turned to fists and smashed him into the ground. His vision grew dim and he could feel wounds opening up over his body, but he couldn’t give up now. As the gloves recoiled from a strike, Braum rolled away. He sprinted to his shield, latched it back on his arm, and spotted his hammer embedded in the ground. He bounded over to it, yanked it up, and threw out a [Taunt]. The damage from his team was piling up, and Braum knew they wouldn’t shake off one of those blows if it hit them.
If it is Your will that I return, let me come home with honor enough to embrace those I love.
Braum fought. His team fought. Knives flashed, a sword glinted. Magic whirled through the air around him as it tried to bind his foes and slay his enemies. The [Usher] was nearly dead.
But if my place is instead among the honored dead, then let my blood not be spilled in vain. Let it buy another dawn for the dwarves. Let my name be remembered not for how I died, but for what my death preserved.
With a cry, Rook flew through the air and brought his blades down in the webbing between the digits of the giant hands. With a ghostly wail, the [Usher] disintegrated with a burst of light. Something glittered on the ground where the magical remains of their foe fell, but Braum did not have time to dwell. With that final cry, every other hand in the dungeon had been summoned. At least 8 [Ethereal Custodians] were bobbing up and down, the red aura of rage glowing brightly in them. Braum’s teammates scrambled behind him to regroup. He raised his shield once more.
And when my voice is stilled, be the voice my family hears at the hearth. Let no child of mine know hunger. Let no loved one bear grief alone. Raise up kind hands to mend what my own no longer can, and keep the fire burning until we meet again beyond the final forge.
Some [Custodians] kept their distance, hurling [Rotten Tomatoes] at the party, which sizzled with burning acid as they exploded violently. Others, like the [Usher], grew to a massive size and tried to swat the party like bugs.
For every hearth begins with a single flame, and every blade is shaped by faithful blows.
But they were not bugs. They were [Breakers]. And they were strong.
Keep my home.
Across the lobby, the fight raged on.
Keep my people.
With each attack, Braum was punished. Pushed back, thrown to the side, trampled by an unstoppable force.
Keep my heart.
The glass display cases exploded into millions of shards as Braum was tossed like a ragdoll. The ground was churned as attacks from friend and foe wrought destruction in this otherwise peaceful place.
Until it beats beside Yours.
But when the dust settled, after what felt like an eternity of fighting, 5 figures remained standing. Braum heaved heavy breaths from ragged lungs; every part of his body felt like it was on fire. His health had dipped into the red more times than he’d like to count; the deceptively simple hands were stronger than he’d like to admit. And his teammates weren’t spared from the carnage either, as parts of armor and clothing had been cut, burnt, or torn. But they were breathing, and they were alive. They were victorious. One encounter down…many, many more to go.
Amen.