Dungeon Champions

Chapter 5: Skullie’s Origin Story

Taking the lead, I consulted my Tablet once more. Corey had been as good as its word. It hadn’t given me a map of the entire dungeon, but large sections were thoroughly documented. We didn’t want to go back the way I’d come; that would take us back to where I’d arrived. Instead, there was a path that required three rights, a left, and a tour through a big room. Once I was certain Merielle was following, I started down the widening hallway.

Now that the danger had passed, I took a moment to examine my new companion.

Merielle didn’t look like I’d expect an elf to look. Her red hair was vibrant, hanging in loose waves around her. She had a slender face with delicate features and an upturned nose. What I could see of her body looked toned and athletic, like a gymnast, but with large breasts and rounded hips. Covering all of that was a set of shoddy leather armor. It was ripped and torn, shredded from her romp with the skeletons.

I still saw no signs of weapons, but she had a pair of leather gloves that were banged up around the knuckles. They looked new, and from the way they creaked when she moved, they seemed to not be broken in.

“Where’s your backpack?” I asked, looking her over for signs of any of the standard adventuring equipment. Other than her armor, she had basically nothing. “No pack, no coin purse, nothing?”

Merielle visibly grit her teeth. “Sisterhood protocol is to take off everything that could hinder us before a fight. Betsy—that’s our Guild Guide—took them from us and put them in one of her storage bags.”

I still didn’t understand any of that. My new memories had nothing new to add. “Is this where you start explaining things? What’s a Sisterhood and why did you need a Guide? And what happened to this ‘Betsy?’”

Merielle nodded, futzing with her gloves. “I’m part of a faction called the Sisterhood. They…train groups of adventuring women. It’s standard practice for the first few field missions to include a Guide. They are supposed to keep everyone alive.”

“Ah. I see.” I didn’t need my new memories to know what I was hearing was off. With them, I was absolutely certain something was wrong. Why would they tell their recruits to take off all their gear? What about retreats, or tactical maneuvers?

Dungeon delving wasn’t like sparring, or a bar room brawl. It required plenty of careful planning, and more importantly, supplies.

Keeping my opinions to myself, I continued down the corridor. I could worry about this stuff while I walked.

The Dungeon Core had provided me with a floor plan but hadn’t labeled any of the areas. The bright, almost steel-like color of the halls gradually gave way to a sullen, pockmarked green stone.

Something about that color triggered my instincts.

Coming to a halt outside a door of ancient wood banded with thick straps of iron, I held a hand up and looked around, then glanced over my shoulder at Merielle.

The elf paused, eyeing my hand as if unfamiliar with the gesture. Then she looked around, an expression of confusion on her face, and shrugged.

She hasn’t been trained in proper group tactics, I realized. At least that was a relatively easy issue to take care of.

Leaning forward, I pressed my ear against the door.

Sloshing wet sounds came through the thick wood. A chime rang out, like the sound of metal striking metal. There was shuffling, and if I concentrated very hard, I could have sworn I heard bones clicking. That could have been my imagination, however.

After listening for roughly half a minute, I backed away and bent to whisper in her pointed ear.

“I think that room has some sort of acid in it,” I told her. “Probably more undead.”

“What makes you say that?” Her reply was equally soft.

Merielle may have been poorly trained, but she wasn’t stupid.

I pointed to the pockmarked stone of the walls. “Etched stone. Unless something is casting corrosive spells around here, I think we’re walking into an acidic area of the dungeon. Doesn’t look like water would have done that. It produces a different wear pattern. Through that door I could hear metal on metal, but no moaning or screaming. Given that we just fought a lich, I think it’s a safe guess that we’ll be fighting more undead before I can get you out.”

Clenching her jaws, she raised her fists. Her gloves were tattered, showing the tanned skin beneath.

Seeing her expression, I thought about our situation a bit. Her fists would be of little use against the undead. She needed proper weapons and training.

I had to give it to her, though; Merielle might be inexperienced and poorly trained, but at least she was brave. The ability to fight was something that could be taught, but courage was an inborn part of a person.

“Stay here until I call for you,” I said. Crossing to the door, I hefted my Axe of Felling in my right hand.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I yanked at the door handle with my other hand.

The door swung open and revealed a high-vaulted room carved in etched green stone. Four immense, bubbling vats rested on the floor, spaced equally. A complex mesh of chains and metal support beams lined the ceiling, attached to pulleys and levers around the room.

Piles of bodies were stacked against the far wall, next to a pair of heavy, metallic doors engraved with magic sigils. From what I could see at a glance, the remains were a mixture of human, monster, and animal.

The room had a dozen more animated skeletons, none of which had equipment or weapons. Two more liches, wearing tattered robes, moved around the space. One of them was standing next to a vat, directing skeletal servants to extract freshly cleaned bones.

It’s a skeleton factory, I thought.

Tightening my grip on my axe, I walked into the room. As I’d expected, a thin layer of acid had splashed onto the floor from the massive vats. With a whispered magical command, I activated the magic on my Trackless Boots of Levitation, lifting me above the danger.

Continuing forward, I skillfully swung the axe as one of the skeletons lurched over to intercept me. It took the skeleton in the ribs, snapping it in half like rotten wood.

Both liches hissed as they pivoted to look at me. One stabbed a finger at me and sent servant skeletons charging over. The other made a magical gesture and bands of webbing appeared out of thin air, encasing my body.

“We have you now,” the caster said in a comically high-pitched, theatrical voice. “Soon, your bones will join our pile!”

I looked down. The webbing covering my body was thick, each strand nearly half an inch in diameter. It would take someone with a Strength score of at least sixteen to break through this normally.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to explain why you’re making skeletons and not more impressive offspring?” I called out, just in case the liches felt conversational.

“Less draining than higher grade servants,” the caster lich replied helpfully.

“Oh. Thanks. I guess that makes sense.”

The first lich looked at the other. “This one seems quite reasonable. Perhaps we should wait for Mikhail to join us? He may want to offer this one a job. With all those muscles, he’d make an excellent ghoul. Oh, or perhaps we could use him as a base for a flesh golem!” He clapped his hands excitedly.

As the liches turned to have a conversation, the first wave of skeletons came closer. Flexing my arms, I broke the strands of webbing with a grunt and raised my axe. I swung it in a wide arc, the momentum crumpling the monsters like kindling. The Axe of Felling did 5-to-8 damage as a baseline. Reduced to their calcium bones, I did extra damage. It was enough to dust the things.

“Huh?” The spellcasting lich turned to look at what was happening, even as I leaped over the fallen skeletons and sprinted over to him.

A blue-white lance of fire burst from the first lich’s hands, streaking through the air fast enough to leave an afterimage.

Transforming my sprint into a slide, I skidded across the uneven ground. The spell flew above me, slamming into one of the bubbling vats. It blasted a foot-wide hole into the side.

I mentally thanked the reflexes of my new body.

Acid bubbled up across my boots, calves, and thighs. It was distinctly uncomfortable, but I didn’t think it dealt any significant damage. Fortunately, my Tyrant’s Armor negated the worst of the effects, leaving little more than a slight burn, like I had rolled in spicy sriracha.

Leaping up from the slide, I dashed to the side to avoid another spell. With a single flick of my axe, I sliced through one of the liches, sending the top of his skull to the stony floor.

My momentum carried me past the first undead. The blade, caught on a bit of bone, yanked the emaciated lich after me. Another spell flew through the air, only to strike the stuck lich on the chest.

My surprise captive burst into flame. Landing, I turned, yanking the axe and its burning passenger into a swing. The body flew off, almost missing the target. One of its legs clipped the other spellcasting undead. Lacking muscles or magical gear to reinforce its strength, the second lich crumpled into the remains of its companion.

Despite the damage, neither lich was dead, but they both struggled to disentangle their bodies.

“Skeleton army, rise!” a lich screamed, flinging a hand toward the pile of corpses.

CRACK!

A thigh bone collided with the hand, knocking it down before the spell could take effect.

I glanced over, pleasantly surprised to see Merielle inside the room. She’d taken the cautious approach and was standing atop one of the skeletons to avoid stepping in the acid. Bending down, she lifted another bone. Carefully avoiding the dripping acid, she drew it back, taking aim.

“Good work,” I called, even as I took a step and brought my axe down upon the closest twitching arm, then the next.

“Behind you!” Merielle flung the second bone. It went wide, but I got the idea. Bending down, I grabbed the legs of both liches. Standing and turning, I slammed the undead casters into their own summoned skeletons.

Bones rattled and acid sprayed as monsters went sprawling. One of the liches started screaming. “Put me down! Put me down! I’ll tell you the secrets of the Dungeon Core!”

“You will?” I said.

The lich, whose head and spine were halfway torn from the rest of its body, tried to nod but instead just flopped around. “Yes! Of course. Yes, I will!”

Yanking on the legs, I peeled the talkative lich away from the other. Tossing Talkative to the side, I continued beating the still-animated skeletons with its companion. Only once the skeletons had stopped moving did I re-summon my axe.

The talkative one watched, jaw working, as I methodically sawed the other into pieces until I found what I sought. A second black-gemmed phylactery joined my growing collection. Once the gem was no longer touching the lich’s body, it fell into dust, becoming just another corpse. Its magic also failed, transforming two of the bubbling vats into inert murk.

Standing straight, I walked to the remaining lich. My fingers dug into the lich’s back, piercing the rotten flesh with ease. With a grunt I tore the backbone away from the ribs and flesh, so that I held onto only a spine with a skull attached. The lich gasped loudly and opened its mouth to scream, but I shot it a warning glare.

Holding it tightly, I gestured at the two active vats. “I want to turn these off. Is there a command word?”

Click click.

The lich’s jaws worked. “Um. Yes. If I say it, will you leave me…um…undead?”

“Sure. We’re friends now. I’ll give you your unlife, and you’ll answer some questions for me and my friend. Won’t you?”

“Friend? Ah. Yes. We are…friends.”

The lich growled a word and the remaining vats stopped bubbling. A ghostly green glow washed through the floor and the acid subsided as well, becoming a murky blue color and rendering the room stinky but safe to navigate.

Once she realized the room was safe, Merielle dropped the bone she was holding and walked over. The soupy water clung to her boots but showed no other signs of enhanced danger.

She pointed at the spine and head I was holding like a hand puppet. “What are you doing with that?”

I waved the spine. It bent and flexed, but the magic keeping it undead also preserved its integrity. It didn’t break, despite my strength.

The lich seemed unamused, but didn’t say anything.

“This is Skullie,” I said, thrusting the lich forward. “He’s our new friend, and he’s going to answer some questions for us. Isn’t that right, Skullie?”

The lich tried to nod. Instead, his jaw just twitched and chattered like a set of windup teeth. “Yes! I will!”

Merielle stepped closer and fixed Skullie with a hard gaze. “What do you know about the Sisterhood? Tell me everything.” She crossed her arms and waited for an answer.

I held up a hand. “Hold on. I need to get you through those doors. Once we’re sure it’s safe, Skullie can give us both the details, okay?”

She hesitated, and I offered her the spine. “What’s this?”

“I need my axe. Besides, if anything bad pops out, just fling him at them. As long as he’s got his phylactery, he ought to be fine. Isn’t that right, Skullie?”

“Um. Probably.” Skullie tried to twitch, but it came across more as frantic wiggling. “Although I hate that you know that.”

My Tablet appeared in my hand, vibrating with a notification.

Notice: You have been awarded combat experience proportional to your level.

Experience Gained: 50

Experience to Level 11: 500