The Dungeons Call

Someone else had approached. Nicholas watched unworried, not at all surprised when the newcomer introduced themself and inquired about joining the party. It wasn't his decision, of course, but he was somewhat pleased when Favyaura accepted the other. More people was a good thing, as far as he was concerned. Nicholas was almost certainly going to be the one standing in front of whatever it was that needed standing in front of, so the more people they could have that could pelt whatever that happened to be so he had to spend less time getting stabbed, clawed, kicked, or slimed by whatever it was, the better.

There were a few others he thought seemed interested as well, he would have to see if any of them summoned themselves to join. He had noticed that Favyaura had gone ahead and introduced herself as the party's leader, even though she wasn't on the paper as such. Nick didn't comment about that. She was the one leading, after all, no matter what the paper said.

He gave a little nod when he was introduced, and was trying to come up with something appropriate to say that hadn't been said already, and what do you do? didn't seem polite - he was worried about that being a mushroom-girl question, and so maybe it was best not to ask it - but then again, he did want to know what the stranger did, and-

-The terrain had other ideas about this line of questioning. The ground moved a little, and then everything else moved quite a lot. There were sounds of breaking, and the usual sounds of people's surprise or fear or whatever they preferred to call it. Nicholas felt the runes on his skin blaze as the darkness fell over the room, sickly gray gloomlight ready to protect him from...

...Well, it wasn't precisely obvious, and it wasn't precisely here. He supposed if an ale tankard fell in his direction, the runes might protect him from that, but only in the sense of injury and not in the sense of dignity. He'd held his own, anyway - ale, that was - and the light returned, and with it a sort of stunned silence as people needed to figure out what they needed to do next.

Favyaura was quick thinking, but he had known that already, from outside. Nick shrugged, raised the tankard of ale and downed half of it, then rose to follow the Myconid.

"She does that," he commented, perhaps unnecessarily, to the newcomer. Hopefully, they didn't mind.

Hopefully they would keep up.
 
Their plan was working. It was an effort to keep the satisfaction off of their face as Favyaura introduced them to the group, but Quill managed to keep their smile tamed into something appropriately friendly, turning it on each of the other members with a small nod. “You can call me Quill. I’m a-”

Something was wrong. Quill cut themself off, glancing around as they were seized by a sudden apprehension that made their horns itch. Was their cover blown already? That should’ve been impossible; they hadn’t done anything strange, at least not in this town.

They got their answer in the form of an earthquake, the ground rising up under their boots as though intent to throw them off their feet. They kept their balance, somehow, stepping quickly and already regretting choosing a form that didn’t have a tail, but it took all of their concentration. They couldn’t spare a thought for the weird glow from the walls, or the shattering glass, or the even weirder glow coming from Nicholas.

And then it was over. The lights flickered back to life, and Quill didn’t have to feign being just as confused as everyone else was. They weren’t out of breath, but they were pale, freckles stark against the pallor of their skin. Some people had fallen, they saw, as they fixed their hair and tugged on their shirt, straightening their appearance out. They moved towards the nearest victim without a second thought, and were in the process of helping them up when Favyaura made her announcement.

They finished helping the person up, then followed the Myconid, falling into step beside Nicholas. “Ah,” they said, slim fingers dipping into their pocket to deposit a single silver coin. “Good to know.”

Well, at least their leader seemed to have a very good idea of what she wanted and how to get it. There were worse people they could’ve gotten roped into following. This promised to be interesting, if nothing else.
 
Tornir felt eyes on her. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, she was a pink-haired gnome with goggles that made her eyes wide as saucers in a bar who just finished alphabetizing her notes in both Common and Gnomish. Getting weird looks was practically a daily occurrence! But this was different. These eyes peeled back her skin, laid her bare and cut through everything she was, stared through her like she was a butterfly pinned to the wall.

That look wasn't unfamiliar, although she was normally the one giving it. Shuddering, Tornir slung her bag over her shoulder and stood, far too steady for someone who had been drinking for the past few hours. As if to correct that notion, the earth heaved, throwing the gnome off her feet and onto the floor. Several liquids immediately began soaking through her clothes, a mixed drink only servable to the most inebriated of patrons.

Tornir stared at the walls as they cracked and oozed, a sickly green creeping through like an unexpected and unwanted guest. She took her eyes off it for just a moment, digging through her satchel for one of the seven spare vials she had in there. But that was all it took, and when she looked back up, it was gone. She swore in Gnomish, a long phrase in which the only discernible word sounded peculiarly like ‘zillyhoo’, before pulling herself up off the floor and inspecting what had become of her clothes. Well, they were meant to absorb various chemicals, and alcohol was a sort of chemical.

She surveyed the damage quickly before realizing that her mushroom was getting away! It appeared as though they had a group put together already, with a rather large man and someone who looked unsettlingly average in a way that made her hands itch in their gloves. No matter, she had bigger issues to worry about. Tornir sidled up behind the group, falling comfortably into step as the myconid began to lead.

“Absolutely correct.” She chimed in. “Best to get down there quick. Right behind you!” If any of them looked at her weird, again something that she was incredibly familiar with, Tornir would simply flash a smile and a wave as she pulled out her journal and began jotting down notes on the events that just occurred, including the approximate size and weight of several of the people still pulling themselves off the floor. “Did any of you happen to grab a sample of that emerald excretion?”
 
Favyaura allowed a soft smile to play on her lips as she caught Nick’s comment. There was something unspoken yet deeply reassuring about his willingness to follow her without hesitation. No complaints, no doubts- Just trust. That simple act of listening without skepticism warmed her chest with joy. A human of all things, willing to follow her lead. It was strange, but she chose not to dwell on it further, enjoying this small victory

The group felt complete: her human, her elf, and… Whatever Quill happened to be, besides a magnet to her eyes. Elf? Human? She hadn’t asked, and honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to, choosing to avoid any sort of rudeness.



Just as they were set to move, Xah’ spoke up, declaring that he’d stay behind. Favyaura shot him an irritated glance, a silent warning with her narrowed eyes: You better get there in time. She had learned not to count on people’s promises, but she still expected him to follow through.

Before she could spiral into frustration at being one member short, another figure appeared, a gnome, uninvited yet seemingly intent on joining. It wasn’t unheard of for gnomes to be welcomed in human society, but they were far from common. Favyaura was hardly one to judge, after all, she was a walking, talking mass of fungi.

The newcomer’s presence was unexpected, but perhaps useful. A scientist, maybe? That would be ideal if true. Favyaura had her own knowledge of herbs and brews, basic healing mixes born from experience rather than formal training, and there were limits to what she could do. She nodded in quiet acknowledgment of the gnome’s arrival, assuming introductions had already reached her ears. No need to waste time repeating them.



When the gnome brought up the ‘excretion,’ Favyaura simply handed her satchel over, not like she had anything particularly valuable.



The odd goop clung stubbornly to its surface, refusing to be wiped away like some wretched stain. It held onto fabric with unnatural tenacity, promising a difficult removal process.

“Some got on my bag on accident- I hope this is useful for your purposes.”

If analyzed further, the material bore a striking resemblance to Tremella mesenterica, leaving questions better saved for later.



-


The journey to the dungeon’s main entrance stretched long enough to test the endurance of the smaller Myconid. Favyaura felt her limbs grow heavy, her steps dull with exhaustion. She briefly wondered if the gnome experienced the same or if she herself was simply in far worse shape than she had assumed.



The entrance itself was a jagged maw, no elegant architecture, just stone, raw and untouched, save for the massive metal gate and sharpened wooden pikes arranged as a weak defense. The stalactites overhead hung like fangs, catching the wind in eerie whistles, sending unnatural currents spiraling out of the cavern.

Favyaura’s once confident strides shrank as they neared the entrance. Hesitation crept into her steps. Someone had arrived before them.

A flag swayed gently in the breeze, held aloft by a broad-shouldered man with stocky proportions, white hair, and a thick beard. His armor, made of layered leather rather than metal, resembled the gear of a hunter more than a soldier.

Guild Master Amadeus.

Favyaura knew him well, mostly as the man was forced to endure her nonsense time and time again. His sigh was slow and measured as he stepped forward, hand raised slightly in a silent command to halt.

“I don’t know what she poisoned your mind with to convince you this is a good idea,” his voice was firm, weary. “But this is the worst possible time to be here. Turn around and leave. We don’t have time for civilian casualties.”



Whatever else he intended to say was lost, drowned out by a sudden, sharp bark from a scouting dog, followed immediately by a scream.



A rotten stench cut through the air, thick and suffocating. Then the creatures arrived.

They spilled through the gate in an overwhelming wave, amalgamations of plant matter, crawling forth with terrifying ease, tearing through defenses without effort. No distinct shape beyond the clusters of flowers, leaves, and teeth. Teeth. The creatures were riddled with them, jagged and mismatched.

.

The scouts closest to the gate never stood a chance. They were dragged into the pile of writhing plant matter, their bodies dissolving at a sickeningly slow rate. The creatures didn’t eat them, no, they absorbed them, dousing them in an oozing enzyme that melted flesh away while leaving their victims aware enough to scream.



The Guild Master wasted no time. His form vanished into the chaos, blade raised, focus shifting entirely to saving whoever remained.

Favyaura’s relief was immediate. So was her horror.

She had never fought before.

All her tricks, all her whispers in the dark, all her attempts at unsettling drunken soldiers with shadows and noises to keep them away from the forest… None of them were combat. This was something else entirely.

Her body tensed instinctively, uncertainty bubbling beneath the surface, though she tried her best to conceal it.

They had two choices.

Stay and fight.

Or slip past the chaos, entering the dungeon while the opportunity remained.

For the first time since taking the lead, her confidence wavered.

Her gaze flickered toward her companions, searching for their reactions, some sort of suggestion or thought.

Whatever decision they made, it had to happen now.
 
Just like that, they were leaving. Xah'Ak'Thut had decided to stay behind, and Nick couldn't find it in himself to object. There was the possibility of the man rejoining them later, which he also didn't object to. Nick knew that sometimes things got bad enough that any help was better than none, even if you didn't really like the person giving it. He was sure that plenty of people didn't like him.

The newcomer had introduced themselves as Quill and apparently did not have any issues with following Favyaura. The newer newcomer had not given a name, and Nick was also not entirely sure how she had become a part of the party, but perhaps he'd missed something. Favyaura seemed to accept her, and so Nick shrugged it off. She was the party leader, after all.

Aside from the rumblings of the earth and the impending feeling of doom, it was a nice day for a walk. They made it down to the dungeon at a leisurely pace, or at least what Nick had thought was a leisurely pace. Favyaura seemed to be struggling, though, he noticed. Perhaps myconids were not built for endurance - no, that was a poor way of looking at it. It was more likely that they varied as much as humans did. There were many humans who weren't built for endurance, either. He wondered if she would call for a rest before they went in, once she had sorted things out with the guildmaster. He didn't seem to think this was a good idea, which Nick didn't fault him for. Nick didn't think this was a good idea, either. Generally speaking, going into dungeons at all was not a good idea. They were going to do it anyway, of course, but it certainly wasn't a good idea.

He decided he would let Favyaura handle the discussion. She was better at talking than he was. Instead, he contented himself with looking around, which was why he was perfectly positioned to be looking the right way when the screaming started. The scouts that had been standing around were... devoured? Dissolved? Nick couldn't tell for sure if the rotting-leaf-pile creatures were eating them or just oozing on them. Regardless, it didn't seem to be pleasant for any of them.

Nick had seen a lot of unpleasantness. Sometimes he'd been the one doing it. He thought that was why it bothered him. It was all too easy to imagine, well, picking someone up and throwing them into a pile of leaves like that, watching them scream. In fact, it was so easy that he couldn't be sure he'd never done it. He hoped it was just his imagination. If it wasn't...

...If it wasn't, there wasn't anything he could do about it now. The guild master had moved away, taking on the attack with a lot more bravery about the situation than Nick was feeling. Certainly he felt sorry for the scouts, but they weren't part of his party, and he had to think about his party first, and that meant staying with them. He wasn't entirely sure any of them could even really fight - especially with Favyaura looking as exhausted as she was.

No, getting involved would just tire them out further, and then they'd be worn out and maybe injured, and Guildmaster Amadeus would have even more reasons why this wasn't a good idea. Nick cleared his throat, quietly.

"The path's open. If you want to go, we should go."
 
Someone was following them. Quill dipped a hand into their bag, fingers grazing the cloth-wrapped hilt of one of their daggers even as they casually glanced back at the gnomish woman. They assessed her quickly, noting the nonplussed reaction of their party members with a flickering, sidelong glance. Then they pasted a friendly smile upon their face, taking a clean handkerchief from their bag instead and using it to wipe some imaginary dust from their hands as they nodded in greeting at the newcomer. If no one else was going to make a fuss, they wouldn’t either.

They had more pressing matters to focus on, regardless - the group as a whole was making haste for the dungeon’s entrance. Quill was careful to keep pace with everyone, though they were amused to note that their measured steps accounted for half of Nicholas’ stride and nearly twice that of the gnome’s.

It was a decently long journey, but not too tiring. When they drew within sight of the guildmaster, Quill stayed in the middle of the group, a half-step to the side partially concealing them behind Nicholas so that they could study the area without drawing too much attention. The metal gate drew a frown from them, and they squinted at it with visible consternation for a half-second before remembering themself and adjusting their expression back to neutral. Right, they were in a party, now. They wouldn’t have to touch the iron. Not if they weren’t the first one in.

They were still staring at the gate, trying to gauge the distance between the bars, when the creatures spilled out. Their eyes widened, and they took a step back, halfway through drawing one of their daggers before they took a second look and realized that they didn’t know where to aim their throw. The monsters seemed almost gelatinous, if a plant could be called that, and they weren’t keen on needlessly sacrificing one of their weapons.

Their eyes flicked to Nicholas, then to Favyaura, stopping briefly on the gnome - still an unknown that they didn’t entirely trust - before settling back on their party leader. They were quick to back the suggested plan of action. “Yes, we should go. Let’s hope they keep each other occupied long enough for us to get by.”

Occupied. What a mild word, for such an unkind suggestion. They looked again at the grisly scene, the scout’s mouths open with screams that they had tuned out as soon as they had reached their ears. There was not an ounce of pity in their eyes that wasn’t feigned, but the apprehension they felt at the thought of facing the creatures themself - for so little gain, save, what, the gratefulness of a few humans? - was most assuredly real.
 
The myconid in charge, which in and of itself was a curious thing but Tornir was far from one to judge, didn’t question her integration into the group, instead giving her a brief nod before donating her bag to the pursuit of science. Favyaura was quickly becoming her favorite of the group, she couldn’t wait to see how the others tried to curry her favor.

Tornir hefted the bag, which was at least a fifth of her size, inspecting the substance from all angles. She ran a gloved finger along it before scooping into a glass vial and securing the stopper. How curious. She’d expected some form of ooze or slime but from what she could gather at a glance it actually resembled a fungus more than anything else. She resisted the urge to taste the thin, somewhat greasy trail it had left on her gloves, instead wiping it on her apron and hurrying after the rest of the group.

One of the fatal flaws of being a gnome was that of being short. Tornir had often found that, in her experience adventuring, the taller folk rarely made efforts to slow their strides to accommodate her. While frustrating, she understood their long-leggedness was through no fault of their own. Instead, she sought to match their pace, which ranged from speedwalking to a brisk jog depending on the height and purpose of the individual. She was no long-distance runner by any stretch of the imagination, but with a vial of her Quicksilver Tincture, she could keep up with the tallest of humans, provided they didn’t start jogging.

Tornir had downed her third vial by the time the dungeon’s entrance came into view, feeling the temporary energy surge through her limbs and erase her fatigue. She mentally ticked off another dosage, since it was important to keep track of these things. She’d discovered that more than seven doses led to unpleasant side effects, such as nausea, headaches, excessive saliva production, jelly legs, a feeling of nothingness, and loss of consciousness. Since then she’d ventured to stay at only six doses within every 24 hours.

She wasn’t quite sure what the guild master was saying, partially because she wasn’t paying attention, but his expression made it clear that it was of a disapproving sort. To her the man always looked like he’d just finished eating a lemon, peel and all. Before she had the opportunity to express this opinion to her fellow party members, the dungeon decided to let its opinion of the Guild Master, as well as the scouts guarding the entrance, be known.

Tornir’s hands were already busy at work as the rotted plant masses sunk their jagged teeth into the scouts. A wolf’s grin spread across her face as one snapped her goggles down while the other rummaged deep in her pockets, bumping against and mentally discarding various objects. She had just flicked out two vials, one filled with an opalescent black liquid, the other stone-gray and shot through with veins of orange, when she realized that her party was not leaping into the fray. Nor were they waiting on her to dramatically wipe out the creatures so they could walk through.

“Right, we should just move past them.” Tornir sighed, the grin falling into yet another of her pockets as she stowed the vials. “Save our strength for further in.” Perhaps there would be some uncontaminated plant matter when they emerged that she could collect a sample on the way out.
 
Favyaura felt a weight in her chest, which was pretty odd considering she was essentially a sponge all the way through. and yet, there she was, doubting her choices. The previous moment of weakness not only left her with a sour taste on her mouth, but also the fear that her authority would now be in question.

She didn't dare glance at her party, much less the massacre happening only feet away from them, she closed her heart, and deafened her ears to the screams of agony, and made her way to the maw of The Dungeon with no fear or doubt visible in her frame, a stoic face, not confident as the previously shown, but instead a distant coldness, she had to keep her act up if she wanted to make it without further complications.

With a wave of her hand, she gestured for the rest to come too, giving and order rather than expecting them to come as they'd done before.

The last thing she saw before going down the cold, ancient stairs, was the last glimmer of hope of a young scout, flailing weakly as he attempted to hold onto the Guild Master, who desperately pulled his arm, attempting to free him from the tangle of vines... In vain.

Her eyes drifted away, doing her best to erase what she had just experienced.

Why should she feel sorry for them? They were not part of her party, and furthermore, they were human. Foul, cold hearted, destructive and cruel, they had brought this upon themselves, she was no defender, much less of the wicked. They tempted fate and tried to control something they had no understanding of, yet again another failure from humans-

She thought this without any intent on offending Nicholas of course, but then again, she had assumed upon first contact that Nick was not exactly like other humans, at least based on attitude alone. Regardless, she had to be mindful of her thoughts, or she would begin sounding like one of them.


-

Upon descending into the dark cavern, Favyaura's skin and staff let out a faint glow, serving as a weak lantern to guide their steps carefully across the grounds of The Dungeon.

Several steps, then a rest, providing numerous sigils and symbols to observe as they continued to make their way down, until their destination was upon them, the very first floor, a large, almost forest like area, covered in rotting trees, and foliage of plants not known on the surface, a light illuminated from atop the supernatural space, as if an artificial sun had been casted for the sole purpose of decorating, leaving more questions of the true power of whatever awaited further below. Despite it all, the place was oddly serene, perhaps due to the main predator of the area, those horrid plants, being busy. This lack of danger was made far more obvious by the odd pods that laid on the ground, empty except for a clear liquid, resembling that which the plants had weaponized back in the entrance of the dungeon.

The Myconid stepped before her party, assessing the condition of them all as if searching for any signs of regret, or the opposite, excitement.

She spoke up, returning to the more amicable way she carried herself when they had all first spoken.

"Here we are... The first layer. We have time now, so gather your strength, and finish any preparations you may require... Each day, treasure surfaces in the zone, keep only what you consider useful, we will have time to loot once we make our return to the surface. For now, seek weapons and objects that may aid in battle... Those plants and some bugs should be our only problem for now, the layer under this will be a bigger challenge, it's a test of might. A trial by combat, we must defeat what awaits there if we are to go further down- Any questions before we begin our break officially?"

Favyaura was not exactly aware of each and every thing that they would find in every layer, as she mentioned before, she had only been able to scout the zone with her familiars no further than the second level, anything else she knew under that were all from stories told by adventurers, which she suspected could be an unreliable source.
 
Nick couldn't help but notice that no one seemed to be happy with the suggestion to move on. He also couldn't help but notice that no one made any other suggestions. Maybe it was because they all agreed, and just hadn't been the one to say it - or maybe it was because they didn't, and just hadn't wanted to say it because he was... what? Large? Imposing? Nick didn't want to make the decisions. How could he? He hadn't made his own decisions for five years, and now... well, maybe he just wasn't used to it, but there was part of him that always wondered if he was making decisions, or if it was just someone making them through him again, pulling the strings. Everything back then had seemed sensible, too, what little he remembered. Almost nothing.

The dungeon closed them off from the world once more, almost comforting. It was terrifying and full of monsters, but at least it was likely to be pretty straightforward. If something attacked them, they hit it back until it stopped. Probably.

Well, hopefully the rest of it would be Favyaura's call. He looked over at her - she didn't seem all that happy with leaving the others there either, but she also hadn't said otherwise. She could have just told them to help - she was the leader, after all. Maybe she didn't know either. It wasn't an easy choice.

He sighed, more to himself than anyone else. He also had to wonder why the guards who had been up there had been so... inexperienced. It seemed like they should have had someone else up there, especially with all the rumors. That was leader-thinking, though, and Nick had already decided he wasn't going to do that. The Guild Master had made his choices about that, and he would live by them or die by them - as would the others up there.

Nick supposed that anything they took out in here wouldn't be making it up any further.

She'd asked for questions, and Nick put in, uncertainly: "Do we need a break?"

They'd come in here without fighting, after all - if they had avoided the fight up top, maybe it was better just to get going and hopefully find something helpful before something unhelpful found them.
 
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