Arthur Decius- Whispering Grotto
Arthur had been unceremoniously paired off with some other initiates, forming an impromptu squad. The towering twins Salamin and Solomin, their imposing statures and golden locks matched by their tower shields and generously donated familial armor. Arthur still wore the simple initiate's breastplate and mail hauberk, although he had been gifted a very unusual weapon by the archbishop as a congratulations on his unique situation, saying it was appropriate for someone with special ability to be given a suitable weapon, one that marked what he could be. By itself it was just a blade that glowed faintly and cut deeper in bright places, but when combined with Arthur's innate talent, causing even the dimmest light around him to blossom into searing beams, it took on an otherworldly sharpness. A simple-looking blade other than two symbols upon it: the bowing man and the closed eye of the Inquisition, showing that that would be his path should he survive.
They were supposed to have a fifth member, but one of the initiates assigned to them had already been sent away for punishment after questioning the wisdom of sending them into the dungeon for live combat. Coward, what does he want? This is the life we chose. We are here to fight or die for the glory of our church. No, for the glory of Rembrand. Remember, Arthur, it’s for Rembrand. Arthur struggled, and not for the first time, with the direction his faith took. The church took him in and gave him purpose, power, and a life he could be proud of, but he needed to remember the men that had done that were unimportant, merely the tools of their god, just as he was.
But no matter how hard he prayed, he still felt more thankful to the sisters like Teresa that patched him together and comforted him after his farm burned. More appreciative of the simple cooks like old Frank with his kind smile and extra helping of gruel because “Arthur was a growing boy.” Than of the god they all served. Strong emotions ran through him as he tried to stifle his heretical thoughts with a muttered prayer, briefly losing rein over his talent, causing the nearby luminescent mushrooms to shine like spotlights for a moment.
The final member of their squad had been sent to the blacksmith for a slapshod refitting of their armor. The journey had not been kind to them, and they had lost so much weight that even with adjustments, Nikolai’s armor hung from her awkwardly, but at least now her sword belt wouldn’t slip free again. Arthur looked towards the sickly girl in concern; she was a kindly soul, and while Arthur feared for her, he feared more that the woman would drag them down, unable to hold her weight in the imminent skirmish.
The first hour of their journey was without incident. They found evidence of brutal skirmishes: broken and melted bodies of simple goblins. But now that they had veered towards the cavern wall to avoid getting lost in this tangled hell of fungus, they came upon a small goblin settlement: two tents and a minuscule campfire set at the mouth of a cavern. Now was the time for him to test himself. He drew his sword in one fluid motion and focused all of his talents intent upon the campfire ahead of them. The forest for a hundred strides in every direction cast stark shadows as orange light to rival that of the rising sun seared throughout the cavern, and Arthur's sword hummed happily in his grasp.
Vraxious- Whispering Grotto
Vraxious threw up across the shattered ground as the shock of his injuries and the wave of essence overwhelmed him. He clawed in the dirt, writhing desperately trying to claw a health potion from his side, but his hands refused to obey his summons. An overwhelmingly strong grasp pulled him up straight as Torvald roughly shoved an uncorked potion in his mouth, an unsaid demand. Vrax eagerly choked down one of the few potions they had, the magic a soothing balm throughout his body. He could feel as unseen tears and leaks slowed to a trickle within him, an inexplicable itch worse than the pain had been suffused in his many internal wounds. He hadn’t realized it before just now as his mind cleared, but without a potion he would have died from internal bleeding quickly. Guess it’s time to finally up my toughness or maybe just the armor...the stigmata has been an unexpectedly good choice. Most of my fighting style is now based around it and adapt, on that note… Vrax went to open his system notifications from the fight, and his jaw dropped open, a stunned smile on his face.
“Well, I guess you aren’t dying on me anymore, and just looked at your notifications too,” Torvald said with a pained smile, uncorking and chugging a potion himself. He was a torn-to-shit mess, bleeding all over the ground around himself. He sat down in a huff to let the potion work its magic.
Vrax focused back on his system notifications. He had gotten at least recognition from the system for damn near every single kill except the first couple and the berserker that Torvald had overpowered.
[Cave Goblin Tier-1](Lvl 1) x7 Slain
[Cave Goblin Tier-1](Lvl 2) x11 Slain
[Cave Goblin Tier-1](lvl 3) x18 Slain
[Cave Goblin Tier-1](lvl 7) x1 Slain
[Goblin Shaman Avatar Tier-1](Effective Lvl 24) Slain
[Essence Gained]
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[Achievement Awarded By Dungeon]
That was a fantastically amusing fight. You are both going to go very interesting places if this world doesn’t consume you first.
[Reward Secret Talent]
[Godsbane Dungeon Pass]
I am so old and so bored that when someone outside the mold like you two comes along, I invite them to the real game, the real challenges I have toiled over for a millennium. Get a bit stronger, well, a lot, so you don’t immediately turn inside out, that would be no fun after all. Then delve to the third floor of the whispering grotto; there you can find a way to the real fun. Fight the guardian, and this little achievement will open a hidden way. Come meet with me in the place I have been building since the gods broke Elysium. (Note for Vraxious and Torvald, Red may be an insufferable prick, but he didn’t abandon you. Go get him unstuck from my trap. P.S. You can’t talk about this achievement with anyone who doesn’t ’have it. The whole secret dungeon club wouldn’t be any fun if any idiot could wander in and get eaten.)
Torvald interrupted Vrax's excited reading with a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m definitely going to need some help real quick.” Torvald said and gestured at a bright yellow and green figure dashing towards them from over a dozen strides away.
Vrax squinted for a moment at the figure. That can’t be right… It was knee-high an hour ago. The daisy ominously charged at Torvald, who stood up with a pained grunt, hefting his warhammer to a ready position. “Uhh, Vrax I think it got a hell of a lot of essence from the shaman!” Torvald said with concern as the daisy lopped towards them with its tendrils, root legs barely touching the ground. It shot off the ground from five strides away, leaping, thorns extended towards Torvald, mouth opening as wide as his head. Torvald hit it with the flat top of the hammer, a savage stab of the warhammer that blasted a few yellow petals lazily off its face. The daisy landed with a thud right in front of Torvald, rising hauntingly to about the same height as Torvald's waist. “Vrax!! Stuff this thing back in the hellgarden!! I think it leveled the fuck up!”
Vrax stumbled to his feet as Torvald Battled the daisy, its tendrils cracking out towards him; one wrapped around his arm, the other three trying to rip the warhammer from his hands. Vrax slapped a hand on the daisy, and it disappeared with a muted thump of displaced air.
Torvald turned to Vrax. “You just fucking had to make a man-eating daisy.” He waved his hands in mock disgust before settling back onto the ground with an amused huff. “Only you would take a prank this far.”
“Shit, are you okay?” Vrax asked, concern evident.
“Bah, after all the other bullshit the dungeon threw at us, the oversized gardener’s nightmare barely scratched me,” Torvald said and meaningfully pointed to some rather deep-looking scratches marring his forearm where the Daisy had gotten a grip on him.
“More importantly! Did you just get a rather interesting invite…?” Torvald said with a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows.
Vrax chuckled for a moment at the unending enthusiasm of his friend. “Yes, yes, I did. I guess we are special after all, just like our math teacher said!” Vrax joked.
Torvald looked back towards the woods where they had last seen Red. “I don’t think Abernathy meant that in a good way, Vrax.”
“Oh, I know, but now he has a pink hedgerow, and it smells like vomit, so who really won in the end?” Vrax said with a smirk.
“Honestly, probably the four bottles of Vitner wine….” Torvald said as he rose from the ground once again to go save their useless babysitter.
They found Red just on the edge of the clearing, sword in hand, a cocksure smile on his face as he talked with a glowing slug sitting just in front of him.
“Yes, of course, Tessa, just one more bottle, and then you can go get Brumhilda and show me just what my gold paid for.” Red said, and then he gestured suggestively towards the brainwashing slug, who just sat there placidly, obviously using a skill.
“No, no, ladies, there is plenty to go around!” Red said playfully before throwing off his silken cloak with panache.
Vrax couldn’t stop himself from laughing even though it hurt something terrible. “Torvald, please free him from whatever the hell this is. I don’t want to see how far this goes.”
Torvald didn’t even respond, just smashing the knee-high slug with a hammer blow, spraying foul brown ichor all over Red’s immaculate attire.
Red looked around in a daze for a moment before his gaze settled on the remains of the slug, then the two he was supposed to be minding, and finally it wandered to the bloodstained, ruined goblin camp past them. “Oh, fuck, what did I miss? More importantly...what did you hear….”
Vrax and Torvald caught him up on the battle and appearance of the avatar, leaving out the part about the dungeon’s invitation. Red looked shocked that they had succeeded but strangely unsurprised by the appearance of the avatar.
“Alright, here’s your gold, you bumpkins. You earned it. I’m calling this a first-floor clear. There is no way after all that you will be under level ten anyway once you spend your essence. Let’s just call it good and not share…that the dungeon got me with a dream slug again. I swear you piss on a boss monster’s corpse one time and the dungeon has a hissy fit about it for years….”
Neither Vrax nor Torvald was interested in arguing with Red about being done for the day; they both had a whole lot of essence to spend and plans to make. Honestly, they probably needed to make a shopping trip as well; they had a fair amount of coins and loot they gathered from the battlefield. That was burning a hole in their pockets.
They started walking back in relative silence towards the entrance, Vrax sneaking ahead as well as he could with his injuries, and Red walking beside Torvald, regaling him with tales of times the dungeon had fucked with adventurers that had pissed it off. The peaceful walk was interrupted as the sun itself started rising in the distance, orange rays of light streaking through the dense foliage, partially blinding all of them.
“What the hells is that?” Torvald said with an eager tone.
“Oh dammit, I guess the other newbie groups for today must have made decent progress. That nightlight over there was a fun topic at the tavern earlier,” Red said, gesturing towards the blooming light.
“Another adventure group with a minder like us?” Vrax asked, wanting to clarify; for some reason, he had a bad feeling about that light.
“Nah, the fun murderers from Rembrand’s paladin order are here for their annual initiate meatgrinder” Red said with a sneer.
Vrax and Torvald shared an unpleasant look. Vrax being the one to finally say it, “Yeah, we should avoid those guys; they won’t be fans if they find out where we are from.”