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A Soldier's Life - 142 -
🕑 Added 2024-02-15 21:40:33 +0000 UTCChapter 142: Never Seen a Fat Elf Before
The black oil slick of the dungeon entrance protruded above the snow in sharp contrast to the white field. Castile held everyone back and looked up at the hearth tree canopy. The tree still had green leaves, but heavy snow covered them. There was also the threat of giant eagles somewhere in the branches, but no movement could be seen at the moment. “Stack some tables against the shattered door for now. If there are any more wights nearby, I don’t want them to surprise us.”
The petrified tables were fortunately not fused with the floor, and we wrestled them to cover the door, Maveith doing the heavy lifting but grimacing through his injuries. Castile worked her frozen hands together as she tried to warm them and sat down. Adrian ordered Konstantin, “Check your injury with Linus, inform the others we found the dungeon, and make sure they are well.” Konstantin hurried off, and I sat with Castile and Adrian at the table. Maveith slumped against a wall, struggling with his breathing as he recovered from the specter strikes.
Castile opened our meeting with our injured men, “Firth, Benito, and Konstantin are too injured to fight. We lack healing potions for them.”
“I am sure they would object to that assessment,” Adrian stated.
Castile sighed, some color finally returning to her hands, which were rubbed continuously together. “Suggestions?” She finally said.
Adrian responded first, “We need to clear as many specters in this area of the city before exploring the dungeon. We don’t want to exit and be swarmed. There are probably more wights in the neighboring buildings as well.”
Both turned to me, and I thought about it, “We should dig under the snow to the dungeon gate to hide our access from the summoner. We need to send in people to hunt food now.”
Adrian’s eyebrows arched in surprise, and Castile looked contemplative, “It is about thirty feet to the dungeon entrance. There are nine tables, each about eight feet long and three wide. I like the idea, make it happen, Eryk.” She turned to Adrian, “Once we recover for a time, we can see about drawing specters from the streets. The issue is we cannot see through the snow.”
Adrian asked, “Will we bring all the men up here now that the room is cleared?”
Castile slowly shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of separating the men, but it is much colder up here than in the undercity. I think we will all remain in the undercity and just work out of this tavern during the day.”
There was not much more to be said, and the meeting dispersed, Castile taking the kettle down the steps and Adrian remaining on guard. I went and sat with Maveith, “How are you doing, big guy?”
Maveith was whizzing a little bit, and his voice was not as deep as normal, “The arm hurts the most from where the wight bit it. I don’t know how many times I got hit by the specters, but they definitely got my ribs and hip. It is painful to breathe and walk.” Maveith was extremely stoic, so I knew he was in pain.
“You did amazing in the fight. Without you holding the door, we would have been overrun.” I patted him on the shoulder.
Pavel and Lucien came up the stairs to help me create the tunnels to the dungeon entrance with the stone tables. Maveith rose to help, but I told him he needed to rest. I sent for three more men to stand guard while we worked. Who knew what was out in the snow? Brutus, Remus, and Blaze came up the stairs to stand watch while we worked.
We took down the two tables blocking the doorway and then extended a table lengthwise into the snow. The snow was crystalline and powdery and difficult to pack down. We tried anyway, packing the snow to the left and right and edging the table forward. We added more tables as we went. It was slow and extremely cold work.
We were cautious as we proceeded and only stumbled across a single specter. Lucien was the unfortunate one of us pressing the snow under the table when it emerged. Lucien scrambled out into the tavern, bringing the elven child specter with him, carrying a toy sword. He had been struck in the face and lost vision in his right eye from the attack. Brutus retrieved the kettle for me, and I collected the death essence.
It took three hours of steady cold work to reach the dungeon entrance. Pavel was the first to reach the black archway, and it had taken just under five tables to cover the distance. Everyone looked relieved that the cold and miserable job was done. “We need to raise the tables up next,” I informed them. They all groaned, so I said, “We can take a break and find items to put under the table legs. There were several stone chests in the rooms upstairs.”
Two men pressed the stone tables up while another moved stone casks, chests, and other petrified furniture we salvaged from the rooms under the legs. When finished, our table-tunnel under the snow had about a five-foot clearance. It was better than crawling on our hands and knees to reach the dungeon entrance. We should be secure from the sight of both the giant eagles and the summoner. We finished late in the night when we all retreated to the undercity to get warm and inform Castile.
Castile was sleeping, as was most of the company. I was also happy to see Maveith’s chest rising and falling gracefully in slumber. I found my pack and laid out my bedroll. I utilized the dreamscape amulet to force a good night’s sleep upon myself.
I made a large fire inside the dreamscape’s entry chamber to feel the fictional heat. I spent my night relaxing and playing with Oscar. I wasn’t motivated to study spellcraft, spell forms, or practice with weapons. I fell into the same trap as Castile had and created a large array of food to try and satisfy my body’s need for sustenance.
After seven hours, I left the dreamscape. It was day, and most of the company was already up. I climbed the stairs to find Castile and Adrian talking. “Excellent work, Eryk,” Castile acknowledged the tunnel in front of the men.
“Pavel and Lucien did most of the hard work. How is Lucien’s eye?” I replied loudly enough to deflect the credit to them.
“His vision is blurry but should return to normal in a day,” Adrian answered happily. That was the good thing with the specters. The injuries were painful, but the damage was temporary and faded with time. The wights, however, were as strong as five men, and their touch was much more deadly, requiring magical healing for a full recovery. The wight’s bodies were gone, and the silvery armor of the large wight was on a table with his massive broadsword.
“What is going to happen with these?” I indicated the armor and sword, sitting at the table where Castile and Adrian joined me.
Castile looked at them, “It is runic plate armor. Worth a fortune but also sized specifically for the elven wight when he was alive. A runic smith could resize the set, but none existed within the Empire’s borders last time I checked. It will probably end up on a manikin in the Emperor’s collection.”
Adrian picked up the broadsword, “This is a runic weapon and valuable as well. The Scholar is sure it is dungeon forged, but its true purpose eludes him.” Adrian stood and did a few test swings, “It is over five pounds and better off being wielded two-handed. I don’t think any men in the company would be comfortable with it.”
I took the blade from him, and it was monstrous. The blade was almost forty-eight inches, and the guard and hilt were another twelve inches. Hefting the blade, I thought it was close to six than five pounds. The wight had wielded it one-handed, but I did not see how anyone could do it for more than a few swings. I placed it back on the table.
“When are we going to explore the dungeon?” I inquired.
“I already entered and exited,” Adrian said, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. Adrian did not like dungeons. He ignored my surprise and continued, “The exit was right behind me after I entered. It is called the Shimmering Labyrinth because it is a maze, and the stone floor and ceiling emit a sparkling light.”
Castile added, “Adrian and Kolm went in after Adrian returned, and they appeared in different parts of the maze.” I winced as that was not great news. “We have not explored past the safe entry rooms yet. The dungeon has not been touched in centuries, so the creatures inside are probably quite strong, and we have no idea how large it is.”
“How difficult will it be to find each other once inside?” I asked, wondering if the plan was to send multiple men in at once.
“Depends on the size of the maze. Scholar Favian was hopeful we would find some tomes on the dungeon in the library. All he found were obscure references and a few children’s tales,” Castile reminded me, and I nodded, having worked with the Scholar for most of our time in the city.
“Bears and spiders?” I recalled.
Castile nodded, “Yes, in one of the children’s tales and some recipes in another book. I will go in alone with the collector and attempt to harvest a creature.” She slid the kettle across the table toward me. “You are the only other person capable of using this effectively. If I do not come out, it will be your responsibility.” I was pretty confident Castile would not have an issue with whatever monster she encountered.
I fingered the terribly unpleasant kettle, “When are you going in?”
“In a few hours. We dealt with more than twenty specters this morning, and I am recovering from the wight that wore this,” she tapped the runic armor on the table. I remembered the purple smoke from that wight had been almost solid when she harvested its death essence.
I was not sure what to do, and Adrian suggested, “Go check on the injured men. Delmar was never very good at empathizing with them. You can do better, Eryk.” I nodded to make my rounds.
I found Firth at a table with a wine bottle he was sipping on and sat across from him, “How are you faring?”
The scruffy man took a long swig, unwrapped his arm, and showed it to me. The arm was splinted, but the skin was black, “If I don’t get a healer, I will probably have to cut it off. Less than a week, I am guessing,” he said stoically.
“I am sorry,” I said, but it didn’t help his mood. “Maybe there are healing potions in the dungeon?” His face brightened some at my suggestion.
“Healing potions are common rewards in dungeons,” he said softly and with some hope in his voice.
“Castile is going to start exploring soon. Maybe I will be able to go in as well,” I said, but I realized that meant I would be going in alone. I was already thinking that maybe I could put someone in my dimensional space and pull them out after entering. It would reveal a lot about the strength of my space affinity.
I moved on to Konstantin, who was standing near a window on guard. He had his bad arm in a sling, and the gash in his armor was still there. “Looks like you need some new armor,” I joked. “How bad is it?”
“Snapped my clavicle but didn’t penetrate too far. Can’t use that arm, and swinging with my good one is painful,” he spoke indifferently of the injury.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get in some practice? I think it would be fairly evenly matched now,” I said with a smirk. My praise of his prowess with the blade got the response I wanted.
Konstantin couldn’t help but chuckle and winced at the pain it caused, “You are an evil man for making me laugh.” I patted the older man on his good shoulder as I moved on.
I checked on Maveith and Benito next. Both were resting. Benito’s wrist was a swollen dark purple mass. His eyes were closed, so I didn’t wake him. Maveith was still sleeping, and at least Maveith’s breathing sounded much better. Castile was getting ready to go into the dungeon, so I was on watch duty with the collector. The specters arrived infrequently and in ones and twos, but I still flinched every time I had to use the artifact. It was getting easier, but it felt like I was a masochist for the effort.
Castile was ready and walked down the snow tunnel, crouching slightly. Most of the men watched her as she made her progress. That dungeon was our best hope of survival. When she reached the oily black surface of the entrance, she paused only a second before being embraced by the blackness, snuffing out the glowstone in her hand. Everyone held their breath.
No one spoke as we waited for Castile’s return. I picked up the large, broad sword and started swinging it as a distraction, the kettle of souls on the table nearby. A fat specter wandered into the tavern through the doorway, and everyone paused. I don’t think anyone had seen a fat elf before. The specter ignored everyone and made to go and sit at the bar, expecting to be served.
With everyone paralyzed in disbelief, Konstantin took action and grunted as he swung his runic weapon into the specter’s back. Sparks flashed, and the specter moved faster than he had any right to. Konstantin backpedaled in surprise. Two runic arrows pierced the specter from Blaze and Pavel. Adrian’s blade took it from the side, and Konstantin regained his footing and managed another strike, forcing the specter to dissipate.
I did my job and used the kettle on the remains. The resistance from the specter was much stronger, and I guessed that maybe it had been a poltergeist. After the kettle consumed the purple smoke, I dropped it heavily on the table. “That one was stronger than normal,” Adrian commented.
Blaze and Pavel retrieved their arrows, and we returned to waiting for Castile. Castile was gone for an hour when Mateo, who was watching the snow tunnel, announced her return, “Castile’s back!” We all circled around the doorway as her glowstone approached the tunnel. Castile was dragging the corpse of a black spider the size of a dog. She was struggling with her prize but pulled it all the way to the center of the tavern.
“Dinner is served!” she said triumphantly, dropping the rope lead.
Looking at the grotesque-looking arachnid, I was the first to comment, “I don’t think I have much of an appetite.”
Comments
robert devoe
Maveith was whizzing a little bit, and his voice was not as deep as normal Wheezing
Creativewritting
Maveith was whizzing a little bit -> wheezing?
SodaBoBomb
Yes, leadership, GOOD!
Lite Fractal
Great question. Does the collector really need a body to work with? I am guessing you can't collect from the dust, so you would have to somehow bind the spirits and put them on the collector...? Assuming yes, you couldn't get dexterity, for example (or any physical boost), but the magical ones should be possible. Maybe the mental ones too?
Karnnie
When he is alone, hopefully he thinks to use the collector on anything he kills
J S
Oh, interesting. Thanks!
Erick Thiemke
its death essence - collectors dont work on it
J S
Did they try using the collector on any wights or whatever?
Erick Thiemke
Emotional intelligence can be learned....or faked
Blorcyn
Finally some food. I had a feeling Maveith wasn’t out of the woods yet and the meat will hopefully help. His wanting to reconcile with his father is such a horrible death flag, I really hope he makes it home and past the summoner and the dead city. Also, I’m excited about the dungeon. Really feels like with his increased rank, his tie with the politically maligned Castile, and another First Citizen rivalry and the valuable amulet, Eryk deserves some dungeon artifacts and essences. I’m hoping to learn some more rare spell forms of course, if Castile has placed them in the Dreamscape, but I’m most hoping that he’ll get some essences for convergence, because ultimate safety beyond the legion seems unlikely to be as simple as reaching enough affinity to cast Greater Teleport. See how much of a feedback loop a convergence affinity increase can cause. He takes them rarely enough (in narrative terms, I get in-universe he is an absolute glutton) that I’m hoping the Labyrinth will be a bit of a hyperbolic time chamber for him, that he and Castile will come out with spells and affinities that can get them past the high elf summoner.
Silver Beard
Pretty sure I recall empathy being Eryk's lowest stat; curious that anyone would think he'd be good at it. Thanks for sharing.
Erick Thiemke
think another chapter is coming tonight as the MC enters the dungeon next. 2 more chapters after that this week for this tier to close the gap on the bonus chapters owed
