It was well past dark, and four people found themselves far too high up on the side of a cold mountain when they should have been warm in their beds. Each of them were residents of Grassbrook: Hensley the Farr, Idora the Farr, Gras the Carpenter, and Ulas...also the Farr. They were a pretty poor lot as far as orc-hunting parties go, through about as good as you could expect from such a small village: Hensley and Idora carried old family swords, Gras had himself a light crossbow, and Ulas had a pretty hefty, if simple spear. Grassbrook didn't have a proper village militia, the existence of the Fort's garrison removing the main need for one, but if it had these four would have been pri candidates: healthy, brave, and not ones to wait around for soone else to help them defend their own neighbors.
Unfortunately, the scarce details Tafyaf had let slip in the tavern earlier that evening had prepared for them to perhaps find a small outpost of orcish Ranger scouts. With the elent of surprise, they might have actually stood a chance of fighting such a group off, or at least rescuing a human hostage had they had one, or at least that's what they had convinced themselves of back when they were in the tavern with their drinks. Now they were far more sober, and staring at sothing that was very much not an orc camp, slightly lit by the flickering of the two torches they'd lit.
Hensley spoke the obvious. "Well. Soone went and put a damn door in the side of the mountain. Valleylanders? How'd they carry sothing so big all the way over the mountain? And...why?"
Ulas shakes his head. "Hen, I hate to say it, but I think this is way bigger than Taffy knew...or at least what he said. ...Let's see what happens." Keeping his spear raised, the man approaches the door, and as he reaches close enough to get a good look at its carved face in the dim light, the door also gets a good look at him.
"Hey, wow. It's like, really late out, but if you wanna take a stab at things, I guess we're a 24-7 operation."
Gras barely keeps himself from firing off one of his handful of bolts right there. "The door just fuckin' talked! The hell kind of spider-magic is that!?" Idora catches on first, and gently lowers her companion's crossbow.
"Guys...I think this is a new dungeon door. And if what I heard was right, about parts of dungeons that can talk...I think we just found Lundsen." The four pause in silence for a while, broken finally by Hensley who speaks for them all.
"...Fuck."
Olas peers at the hinges. "Should we...take the door down? Bring it back to town?" Idora gives him an incredulous look.
"Seriously? Are you thick? For one, dungeon creatures can't live without dungeon mana. Second, we start hacking apart a dungeon for prizes, every monster inside is going to swarm us!"
Doorman looks down at the four. "Do I get a say in this? I rather like my door where it is..."
Hensley sighs. "There's nothing we can do for the lad now. Only question is, do we head back to town...or do we take a look inside?" This ti it's Gras's turn to look incredulous.
"Go into a dungeon? Us?" Hensley chuckles at the question.
"Aye, it's a leap, but let's be honest - who here's never dread of braving a dungeon before? And now there's one in our own damn town? It's new, there's no prissy Challengers camping the place, not even any special regulations or shit. When's going to be a better ti than now?"
The group look at each other, and finally Idora answers. "This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever done, but you're right too, dammit. I don't wanna be an old lady one day wondering if I could've beaten a dungeon when I had the chance." The others nod, and Ulas steps forward again. Once again, Doorman speaks.
"If you wish to brave the challenges of Worthy Dungeon, you must pass my riddle. What is...a river?" The group shares another look, more confused this ti, until Ulas answers.
"It's a lot of moving water, with fish in it and stuff." Doorman nods.
"You got it! Have fun! I'd wish you luck, but..."
Hensley seems suspicious as the door swings open. "The hells was that?" Ulas shrugs.
"Look, Hen, I tried playing a riddle ga with Lundsen once. The man doesn't even know what a proper riddle is. ...Didn't. Whatever." With a shrug the man cautiously steps inside, and the others follow.
AN INDETERMINATE DISTANCE BELOW
Deep below the mountain, Tassa and Grizza are doing what they can to set up camp for the night - both of them having agreed that it was probably nightti by now. They'd found a small patch of water, more puddle than pond, but Tassa's Ranger training included a Purify Water spell that worked on small amounts so they could at least drink their fill and replenish their water skins. For a campfire Grizza had produced an extra pair of magical lights, grouping them together in one spot between the two of them. Running multiple at once did drain his mana slightly, but he hadn't been casting much in the way of spells today, so he reasoned they could afford the luxury. Unfortunately they didn't provide any heat, but in any case their ergency rations weren't the kind that required much cooking.
Getting to this point had been bizarrely difficult. If their path had been a straight line they would have certainly walked right out of the mountain hours ago, but their paths forward had kept turning left and right, and up and down as well. They occasionally found ramps that looked suspiciously like so sort of half-ford natural stairs, while in other cases they found more caverns full of collapsed stone, climbing the rubble to find other paths out. They always went upward when they could, but at tis they had no choice but to go back down, and at this point neither of them could hazard a guess as to how much absolute distance they had traveled from their starting point.
They hadn't spared much energy for conversation up to this point, but now that they'd had a mont to rest, Tassa couldn't hold in the thought that had been on both of their minds any longer. "...Okay, this is absolutely not a fucking cave. What the fuck is this? Outside of the spots that are clearly collapsed, there's hallways and stairwells all through this mountain, and yet not a single carving, or piece of furniture or machinery...who would make a place like this?"
Grizza rubs his chin. "My first assumption was so sort of lost civilization. We have our legends you know, of other subterranean species, who dug deep into the world until no one rembered them anymore. But you're right - if these were proper ruins there'd be carvings, statues, indications of living spaces or work spaces. No one digs out all this space just to have empty space."
Tassa falls back onto her 'bed' of a thin blanket and satchel with a sigh. "Don't suppose you've got a spell to help figure this out? All I can tell you is there's definitely no animal tracks so far - which is good for safety and bad for food."
Grizza shakes his head, and then stops. "...Not exactly, but there could be sothing I could try. Give a few minutes." Settling into a ditative pose, the Mage's hands begin to slowly draw shapes into the air as he chants words the minotaur doesn't recognize. This goes on for at least ten minutes, leading Tassa to almost start dozing off until Grizza jolts her awake with a shout. "The wall! There's so in the wall!"
The Ranger instantly hops to her feet, axes in her hands before she even knows what she's doing. "What!? Who's in the walls!?"
Easing himself out of his ditation with a groan, partly due to the pose and partly due to his still-wounded abdon, Grizza motions for her to calm down. "Sorry, sorry, I was just surprised to actually find anything. I was doing a Sense Mana spell, in case there could be so magical chanisms left behind. And there's...well, sothing, behind the wall in that direction. Not too far behind, though here's hoping it's not solid stone." Following the direction the drider is pointing, Tassa cautiously approaches the far wall with one of his magic lights following behind.
"I'm not seeing signs of anything behind it, but there is a crack in the stone. Mmm...I'm not sure about my axes, but...could you lend the staff?" Catching up, Grizza tosses Pusht's heavy staff over to her, and she begins working it into a crack as a lever. It takes a bit of effort to find a workable angle, but after another fifteen minutes the combination of minotaur strength and orcish weapon crafting manage to succeed in pulling down a section of the rock wall. As the dust clears Tassa takes a look and realizes they opened up not one, but two chambers on the other side. The smaller one catches their attention first - despite the fact that it would be barely big enough for Tassa to stand in on her own, it contains a dimly glowing blue orb within, producing light much like the magic lamps produced by Grizza.
The other is another large, empty space much like the one they're standing in now. With one exception - sitting on the floor next to the wall, no more than five feet from the orb in the smaller chamber, sits a pristine-looking treasure chest, inlaid with silver and gold. As Tassa begins to reach for the chest the Mage quickly grabs her arm and pulls it back. "Don't touch it! It's trapped!"
The Ranger looks at him and the chest in confusion. "You have so sort of Detect Traps spell?" Grizza shakes his head.
"Well...no, not exactly, though I might be able to detect magical traps if I spent so ti on it. But it's the only reason a mana core would be here, located so closely to it. Mana cores are used to generate stable, long-term sources of mana for nearby magical constructs, in order to ensure they continue to operate even if the normal ambient mana is unable to supply it. For a single object to have an entire mana core devoted to it, that chest must have a doozy of an active spell waiting to go off."
"That would be what the orb is, then? I don't think I've ever heard of one."
Grizza's face grows grim. "They can be created, but only at great effort, to the point that it's basically never a good solution for whatever your problem is. The only place you really see them is places that can generate them easily. ...Dungeons."
He pauses for emphasis. "High level dungeons."
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