==========
[Sigurd]
That night Sigurd dreamed of a ferocious beast, shredding adventurers with its long claws, of noxious slimes engulfing people in their gloopy gelatinous bodies, watching the faces and armour dissolving inside them before disappearing entirely. A stream of monsters creeping up and then vanishing as if a pattern in the mist. His dreams were turbulent and as a harsh roar ripped through the dream forest, Sigurd jerked from his sleep. He sat up, heart pounding in his chest almost painfully.
Flopping back down onto the bed covers, he lifted his arms above his head, opening up his chest and trying to control his panting breaths. A rapid series of palpitations shook his chest and sent small sharp jolts of pain lashing through his body.
He felt the sweat beading on his head and slowly running down into his hair. Staring at the ceiling, Sigurd let his eyes rove over the wood grain, absently counting the knots and darkened patches as he let his racing heart calm and his breaths even out.
Finally, his breaths were deep and slow and his heart rate dropped enough that he could no longer hear the gushing of blood in his ears, Sigurd listened to the night, quiet reigned supreme, and he let himself relax with a slight bounce as his head smacked into the pillow with a soft thump. Drawing his duvet up more to warm himself as the evaporating sweat caused shivers to run amok.
Listening to the silence, Sigurd snuggled down into the warmth of the comforting bed, and let his mind grow still, letting the thoughts fade away.
Alas, it wasn’t long before he was woken once more. Although they tried to be quiet, the clanging and clinking of armour was hard to ignore.
As it turned out, it was Jackson that had roused him from slumber. Jackson had dropped his massive shield onto the floor.
Sigurd emerged from his room glowering at the oversized man. Unfortunately for Sigurd, the amusement and excitement of the coming day was obviously visible in his eyes for the man mountain just laughed with a deep hearty chuckle that couldn’t help but make you like him.
With a yawn, and a stretch Sigurd stared at him for a moment before moving out into the kitchen. It took a while to get sorted and have breakfast.
Sitting around the table with them, as the group chatted, Sigurd got to know them a little better. Jenna, the healer was a bit more studious, enjoying a good book when the adrenalin wasn’t pumping. Whereas Lorelei was a party animal. Sigurd thought that it went with the fiery nature he had observed during their travels. It was not a surprise that she was the fire mage.
Kael was a bit of a prankster, constantly teasing the others and pulling little stunts that would simultaneously infuriate and amuse them. On the journey he had played many a prank much to the others annoyance, but they seemed to love him for it whilst simultaneously hating his guts. Sigurd already found the man growing on him somehow. Normally he did not like that kind of person, but Kael somehow trod the line between loveable rogue and blasted annoying cretin.
Jackson was the tank, and he was a very creative person. He would carve little pieces of art out of wood and give them to his nieces when he visited. His family lived quite far to the north towards the border in the northern mountains.
Unlike the Avalt, the northern mountains were much smaller, forming a small region with numerous peaks that jutted up like the skin on a conker. Between the peaks, there were many tarns, lakes streams and rivers providing plenty of fertile land, albeit hard to farm because it wasn’t flat. Thus, they often focused on hard to grow luxury items that demanded a higher price. Sadly, it seemed that little of the money trickled back into the families as Jackson had grown up poor and deprived.
It seemed he had done well as an adventurer, as Sigurd found it hard to reconcile with the man he saw before him.
Past the northern mountain, an inhospitable barren land stretched farther than the eye could see. Tales told of other lands beyond, but there had been no substantiated reports of anyone crossing the blight for thousands of years. He did know that it was one of the toughest regions in terms of monsters and beasties and so the folk there had grown stronger than in the tamer plains and woodlands farther into the human settled lands.
Perhaps someday people would once again venture outside and explore the lands beyond. Sigurd doubted it would be within his lifetime though.
Who knew what treasures lurked out there?
Snapping out of his thoughts, Sigurd took a big bite of the crispbread and went back to pondering his new companions.
Sebastien, their leader, was still a mystery. He was a very withdrawn man, and Sigurd had yet to see an emotional response come from him. Not even to Kael’s pranks.
He was very serious and controlled, reminding Sigurd of an aristocrat or noble, though he certainly was not a slimy prick like many of them. Odd.
Sigurd thought that Sebastien seemed afraid to open up. Perhaps it was just that he was new to the group?
If he was a noble though, it would help explain the cold shoulder, you could just be taken advantage of by exposing your feelings. Like a lifelong poker game, giving opponents your reads could spell disaster.
Thus far, they hadn’t really interacted that much. Sigurd would withhold judgement. Who knew what Seb thought of him? Perhaps he worried that Sigurd would be a liability in the dungeon and could cause his team injury, or worse, death.
It was a valid concern. Sigurd was untested to them, and all adventurers had partied with someone who had frozen or broken under the pressure of delving.
Finishing breakfast, the group packed up and before long they were ready. Sigurd checked over everything before they stepped out, his armour was together and in perfect condition, weapons were sharp and oiled. Their bags were full and minds focused.
He pulled the door closed with a slam, jammed the key in and rattled it around before it finally turned, pulling the latch across, locked.
It was still early morning and the night’s chill had yet to dissipate. Dew clung to the branches of trees, the blades of grass and the corners of buildings. Looking across the fields, they sparkled with an ethereal lustre that made it seem more magical. Sigurd trembled with excitement, God he had missed this feeling.
Across the town there was dead silence that none of them seemed eager to break. Like a blanket had been carefully draped, too delicate to disturb. Even the birds had joined it, for that perfect morning moment they didn’t want to disturb the serenity. There was no wind at all.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
It felt momentous, like the world was waiting for that first, single, step.
Sigurd took it, a crisp crunching sound of his boots on the gravel path that led away from his house.
The group left the village and headed up the path into the woods quietly. Aware of the neighbours slumbering, and enjoying the tranquillity.
Soon the soft gravel ended, and a more jagged dirt path began. Clumps of soil gave away and sharp rocks jutted out seemingly at random. It was a difficult trip and soon Sigurd directed the group away from the little trail altogether.
As they trekked the landscape started to change from a sparse woodland to a denser packed forest of fir trees.
The ground was dark brown, coloured so from the decaying needles of the previous autumn. It had been broken down by beetles and various other decomposers into a soft loamy ground that felt comfortably soft, yet firm enough to provide good grip. It was good ground for walking over. Unfortunately, they soon made their way through that forested section, and onto harder, rockier ground.
As they started to climb, the trees began to grow more sparse again. Sigurd could soon see the forest edge – they had walked through the narrowest point – and off to his right he could see one tendril of the forest continue up the slopes of the mountain significantly farther. In a trench like dip, carved so by a river, the tree line extended into the tips of the forest, before disappearing round one of the peaks.
Closer to him, a boulder field sat; like a natural barrier between the two, looking like some vengeful God had shattered the ground with his fists. Sigurd scanned the terrain but, seeing nothing of further interest, he focused back on the path, leading the group onwards. At the edge of the forest, the group turned left and followed along the treeline, traversing the mountains.
Pushing through the foliage of a denser section of the forest, Sigurd ended up batting away ferns and plants with big broad leaves as he cleared a path. Though he knew the way, it seemed somehow unfair that he had to clear the path as well. Nonetheless, it signified they were getting close.
As the ground began to grow steeper once more, golden light filtered through the trees and leaves, illuminating the previously dark forest. Its shadows elongating and distorting with the rising sun.
The gentle lapping sounds of a small stream was first to break the silence of their trek and soon after, the birds chirped their merry tune as the world began to wake, unfurling in morning life.
Hopping over the stream at its narrowest point, the group leaped onto the soft mossy embankment on the other side, leaving deep boot prints.
They were about ten minutes from the dungeon, and the sun had risen properly now and was steadily climbing higher in the sky. The ground once again grew steeper, and Sigurd’s legs began to seriously burn with the exertion of the climb.
Surprisingly, it was not the girls that complained first but Jackson. Mages usually didn’t have the time to exercise fully as they had to spend long hours in study and meditation to improve their power. It was rare for them to be athletic and so it surprised him that they hadn’t called for a stop first. Though judging by their faces they weren’t far off. Luckily, they were almost there. The dungeon appearing from round a corner in the mountain as he asked.
“We’re nearly there Jackson, a couple of minutes left” Sigurd replied, urging them on.
==========
[Jenna]
The morning was beautiful. A serenity pervaded the place that was impossible in the cities she had lived in. It settled over her and incited a feeling of contentment, happiness even. Jenna finally saw why someone like Sigurd would be happy to retire here. It was so peaceful, calming, and the glistening dew illuminated by the encroaching rays of dawn lit up with small rainbows that scattered on the floor occasionally.
They left in quick fashion and the silence continued, a happy silence though, it seemed the whole group was happy languishing in that silence for nary a word was said: unusual for them.
As they headed up into the mountains. The path through the forest on the lower sides of the mountain soon dwindled away into nothingness and they began properly trekking. Hopping over a small stream they pressed on into the now golden, warm forest and the birds woke up and began chirping at the break of a new day.
The ground tilted further up, and Jenna was starting to struggle, if it continued to get steeper she thought that soon they would be rock climbing rather than hiking.
Sigurd pressed on to her amazement and Jenna was just thinking about asking to stop when Jackson asked first.
Yes! It wasn’t me. She thought to herself.
“We’re nearly there Jackson, a couple of minutes left” Sigurd replied, urging them on.
She couldn’t help but be pleased at that.
The entrance to the dungeon was about three times her height in both its height and width, with the rough shape of an arch framing the black mist that swirled in entrancing patterns like the steam on a good mug of tea inside it. The rocks were jagged and had seemingly no regularity to it. If it weren’t for the cloying black that filled it, it could easily be mistaken for a cave.
It looked like some God had taken a giant pair of pliers to it and broken chunks of it off. There were jagged ridges with perfectly smooth sides and odd angles. It also had the effect of looking slightly like a giant upper jaw ready to take a bite out of you. The sinister darkness within the maw of the cliff didn’t help settle the uneasy stomach that she felt. An oddity since Jenna was usually unflappable, indubitably so.
Get a grip, Jenna she told herself, the worst thing she could do would be to freak out. That would do no one any good. Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths and calm down was a good idea and it didn’t take too long to regain composure. I’m a professional after all.
==========
[Lorelei]
The quiet of the early morning was peaceful and frankly lovely, though Lore would die before admitting it. She was the party animal after all.
The trek up the mountain was tiring and tough, she was glad they had set off so early, as it meant they would have a decent break at the entrance before going inside.
The aging half-dwarf was a much better guide than Lore had originally thought, seeming to know exactly the best path to get to the dungeon. At first, she had thought him a lucky bumbling fool, tiresome to bring along and ignorant. But so far everything he had done was professional and showed a degree of forethought that was rare in adventurers.
Not one known for calm decision making and forethought herself, Lore embodied the element of fire and her rash judgement was one of the flaws she readily admitted to. It was one of the reasons she was happy with Seb as the leader. He was needed for his patience and planning, that kept her safe and alive.
As they walked, Lore watched him. Sure-footed and confident in his motions, he had no missteps or stumbles.
When they settled down to prep in front of the entrance, Lore observed it carefully. She might be rash and impulsive, but she wasn’t stupid. She would listen to Seb and Sigurd, take her time, and observe as best she could.
The entrance was ominous and foreboding, with the impenetrable darkness that loomed ahead and the jagged cliff that looked like the teeth of a giant beast, ready to snap closed on them.
==========
[Kael]
Sigurd was like a machine, endlessly plodding on up the ever-steepening hill with no fluctuation in pace or monotony. Kael was a fit man: an unexplainable passion for ‘pranking, sneaking around and generally being a nuisance’ as his old man had described it, had kept him fit, and as the rogue of the group he generally did more legwork than anyone else. Still, he was starting to feel it, and that was impressive, since Sigurd had to be taking two steps for every one of his own.
A long time later, they had nearly made it. Kael had glimpsed the entrance, but they were now circling around the terrain to get to it from the other side since the closest route had been impassable.
They eventually made it and settled in at the entrance to prepare.
==========
[Jackson]
Stupid damn mountain!
For the thousandth time on the trek, Jackson slipped and stumbled on the ascent. Not only did it seem to be a 45-degree angle, but it was slippery and covered in a fine layer of leaves from the past autumn that gave way under almost no pressure.
He was irritated. Stumbling around like a new-born.
The dungeon cast an imposing opening. Jagged and pitch black, looking like it would swallow you whole when you entered to explore its depths. It unnerved him, but he would venture onwards despite his apprehension. That’s just what you did.
They stopped outside, and he let his pack fall off with a loud thump and clatter.
Whew, glad to have it off his back.
He grabbed a seat on a smooth rocky outcropping before anyone else got a chance and took a long swig of water as he let his heart rate settle from the strenuous exertion of climbing a bloody mountain.
After a nice break, Jackson unpacked the armour and began strapping the plate to his body. It took a good 20 minutes and some help from the others until it was fitted just right. There was nothing quite like the feel of fitted plate surrounding you. Invincible. He liked that.
==========
[Sebastien]
The journey up to the dungeon was a tough one and Seb was glad he hadn’t asked for a break. They wouldn’t have believed he was asking was for the good of the group, no, the ribbing would be intolerable.
Once they made it, he let them have a nice long break, enough to gain that spring back in their step. They needed to be on top of their game in a dungeon and that slight sluggishness from the beginnings of fatigue was not ok for a first delve.
Once they were ready at the entrance, he called a huddle to discuss our game plan.
“All right guys, gather round, gather round.” He said, waiting for them to get closer.
“Ok, so, another new dungeon and another new challenge. New dangers and traps as well as new treasure and wonders to behold. Keep your head on straight and stay tight. Same formation as normal. Jackson up front and you girls behind him. Kael take our left and I’ll take right until we reach the limit of what we already know. That by the way is the end of the second floor. Sigurd you’ll lead us through the first two floors and slot into Kael’s position once we reach the swamp.” Seb dictated, stepping into the role of leader. They nodded, agreeing. Everyone knew plans changed constantly and the mark of a good team was how little had to be said to fluidly change. Good they were focused.
“Kael, once we reach the swamp, you will take the lead and we’ll follow. At the first sign of danger drop to the rear or an elevated position and snipe. Jackson will tough the hits and hack it whilst the girls support with magic. If it’s a lone monster, I’ll flank and attack from the rear. If it’s a group, Jackson drop your spear and I’ll pick it up and fight around you as usual. Guys, it’s the same as always and of course subject to change. Keep it tight and let’s go.”
They took the first step into the unknown, following Sigurd as the black mist embraced them.
A large clatter and crash sounded and carried on for a second. They all paused. Well not all…
“I’m fine, fine!” called an embarrassed Sigurd.
“Just some stairs” he called out after a brief pause. “New stairs!” Seb doubted it was the way he wanted their first delve to go. Though it was pretty funny.
