by Allan Joyal
“Yes, Dungeon Sea Spray is a short journey south of the city. It’s also a major port on the Verulian Sea. But that doesn’t change the fact that the Flame Vultures plan on leaving tomorrow, so that they are out of the mountains before winter comes,” Roquel said with a nod.
“Think they could be convinced to purchase some potions to sell once they are out of the mountains?” Dared asked. “We don’t have the people to guard a caravan or to even justify a caravan, but if they take potions and tell people where they got them, we might see some itinerant traders next year. And later we can build a road.”
“Let the traders make the road,” Koltiss said. “We’re going to be busy making a road to the east so that we can open up the trade route to Fairview. Right now, Narhert’s efforts have worn a bit of a path in the time since we first arrived here, but we should look into making a more permanent road in the future.”
“We don’t have the manpower to spare. I also have to consider that Master Trifect left my employ, which means that Narhert is trying to handle the trades at the moment,” Dared said. “I have an idea how to deal with that problem in the future, but for now we’ll have to work with just Narhert, and he’s not recognized as a merchant by the council in Fairview. I’m more concerned with hiring more guards next spring. Right now we are still relatively unknown, but next year I expect we’ll see bandits.”
Roquel nodded. “They’ll go after your farms first. They always do. Oh, can I travel to Fairview with you when you head out tomorrow?”
“Why?” Dared asked.
“I have some business to take care of. You did ask me to make this village my permanent home,” Roquel replied.
“I did when I thought we’d need someone to help with all the adventurers. But if the Flame Vultures leave that means only the Impaled Cats and the group led by Gee’if remain. Gee’if’s group is very laid back and Kalacho seems to be solid,” Dared said.
“More adventurers will come,” Roquel replied.
“How can you be so sure? The Flame Vultures are leaving. I’ve also checked with the guard every day. No one has entered the dungeon since she fought with that wizard and his men,” Dared said angrily.
“So? The Flame Vultures were in shock after their sergeant was cut down in the fighting that day. I don’t know about the Impaled Cats, but I have spoken with Salene and she’s with Gee’if’s group now. They had decided to allow the dungeon to calm down. But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The dungeon isn’t upset with anyone. She actually wants adventurers visiting,” Roquel said.
“She does?” Koltiss asked.
“Like I said, she approached Salene when she visited the guard shack. I ended up walking up after she showed up. Faestari made it clear that she was not upset. She repeated that more than once,” Roquel said.
“I was sure she would be after what happened with that idiot Mordlew. I can’t believe he tried to use magic to drill through the mountain,” Dared said.
“He really wanted to capture a dungeon and for some reason he thought Faestari would be very easy to capture,” Roquel said. “At least that was the feeling I got listening to his rant.”
“I think he was telling something that was partially true. Remember he had that gemstone that contained the trapped soul. Faestari appeared to recognize the soul that emerged when the gem was destroyed. If that was her father, how did Mordlew get the gem? I think he was descended from someone involved in the attempt to capture her mother,” Koltiss said.
“I’m happy to hear that she isn’t upset with all of us,” Dared said. “But I get a feeling we won’t see many adventurers arriving this late in the year.”
“It would be better if we didn’t,” Koltiss said. “Right now, it’s likely we’ll have a lot of people living in the tavern through the winter. We don’t have the wall up, and I hear that we’ll have snow drifts taller than a standing man.”
“How would the wall help?” Roquel asked.
“It should keep the wind out, which might keep the snow drifts down. We will probably have the guards clearing the streets of snow this winter. It will be work, but if we can keep the town from being buried in snow everyone will feel better. Koltiss is right about not wanting too many additional people. If the snow is going to be that deep, we’re better off not having too many people staying the winter here. But I have to ask how you know that Sergeant,” Dared said.
“A couple of the woodsmen we have working spent a winter in these mountains. They were trapping animals for their fur,” Koltiss said.
“Could we do that to help come up with something we can export?” Dared asked hopefully.
“Furs would definitely sell,” Koltiss said. “Or we might be able to use them internally. It would reduce the cost of clothing for the village. I’d say we try to do both. But I don’t believe we have any trappers right now.”
Dared sighed. “I’ll ask some of the woodmen to teach me once I return from Fairview. Is there anything you want me to bring?”
“For the winter? Food and tools will be the most important. I’d try to avoid bringing in more people though. As I said it will be crowded in the town once the snow starts to fall. I expect that while the snow falls the men will come in from the forest and the quarry,” Koltiss said.
“They will,” Dared said. “Although the quarrymen will likely try to return to the quarry on clear days. They want to cut enough stone to finish the walls and a manor house. After they do that, I’ve told them they can sell any stone they produce.”
“For export?” Koltiss asked.
“I’ll probably purchase some of it to build a keep at the summit of the valley about a day’s journey from here when the roads are good,” Dared said. “The farmers also will probably want the stone to upgrade their houses.”
“It seems like you plan on purchasing very little from Fairview,” Koltiss observed.
“Honestly, there shouldn’t be too much we need to purchase from them. Although it would be nice to have a source of iron so we could attract a good smith,” Dared said.
“I wouldn’t know how to find it,” Roquel said. “So, I can join your trip to Fairview?”
“We’ll be leaving early tomorrow,” Dared said. “Narhert will probably start as soon as there is light to see by.”
“I’ll be ready,” Roquel said.
“Good,” Dared said. The man stood up. “I’ll see you then.”
Dared strolled out of the tavern. His wife grabbed his arm and followed. Behind them the others in the tavern began talking again.
Interlude 2: The Stone is Found
The years of digging by the kobolds eventually opened up the chamber where the stone lay. At first the kobolds were terrified of the glowing red jewel that appears to be grasped by a kobold’s hand. However, one brave kobold kept returning to gaze upon the stone.
He was a stone cutter, who spent most of every day helping extend and expand the caves the kobolds live in. However, as the winter faded, he started bringing tools into the small pocket where the stone lay. He worked on carving a statue out of the granite. It took many cycles of the sun, but slowly the arms, head and torso of a muscular kobold emerged from the stone. The hand that had held the gemstone was now the right hand of his creation.
The other kobolds rejoiced when they discovered what he had done. They began placing baskets filled with food at the feet of their new symbol. Many treated the statue like a god.
The stone kept growing brighter. It was as if the worship the kobolds offered was flowing into the stone.
Raids from the cave increased dramatically that summer. The kobolds had been thriving for years. Now with this powerful symbol in their care, they became bold. Several local farms lost their cows and pigs to the depredations of the kobolds.
The digging also continued. The kobolds cut new tunnels deep into the mountain. A few cautious members of the tribe noted that at times the sounds of something scraping on the stone could be heard even when no digging was going on. H
owever, their worries were ignored as the chieftain drove his people to expand their home.
Chapter 3: A Lesson in Dungeonkeeping.
Before the sun broke over the horizon the next day Faestari marched her avatar into the lair of the orcs. The chief of the orcs glared at her and immediately rushed forward. He stopped right before her.
“You no come,” he demanded.
Faestari stood calmly. “You want to raid.”
“We are masters. Dogmen should serve us,” the chieftain said.
“Not them, and not the humans living in the shadow of this mountain,” Faestari said. “However, I am open to you and your people raiding. As long as you raid to the north and west.”
“We not master over dogmen?” the chieftain said in a voice full of scorn.
“They are not what you want. They cannot be what you want,” she said. “However, I will create a new passage. It will lead to the outside from here. Only you or your two sub-chiefs can open it.”
“How?” the chief asked.
Faestari held out three long granite cylinders. Each one appeared to have been carved with a number of orcish symbols. If you are carrying one of these, I’ll sense it. If its within five steps of the door, I will open it for a short time. But only if there are no others nearby. It is for your people and your wolves. No others.”
The chief glared at Faestari. He said nothing. Faestari just watched him as the other orcs shifted around her.
“I could take,” the chief said arrogantly.
Faestari lowered her hand. “Do I have to kill you before your people stop trying to dominate me?”
“We are masters,” the chief said.
“You can leave,” Faestari said. “You have a choice to make. Either you stop trying to dominate me or leave. I’m done being patient with you. Accept that this is my domain, and you are here only as long as I welcome you.”
Faestari lowered the temperature in the cavern. The orcs all took a step away from her as she stood there.
The chief remained directly in front of her. As the room grew colder, his skin started to fade and turn gray. He slowly started to bend his knees.
Ice was starting to crystalize on the walls when the chief’s knees touched the floor of the room. “I will obey,’ he said.
“Good,” Faestari said. She allowed the room to return to normal temperature. “Now take the keys. You can decide who can hold them. But remember, the village in the shadow of this mountain is not your target, nor are any humans who support it. Raid to the north and the west.”
The chief nodded. “There are tribes. My people, dogmen, even humans in the mountains. We can obey.”
“Good,” Faestari said. “Now, I have other duties. The doorway is marked by a carving of crossed spears on the wall.”
“What about outside?” the chief asked.
“The passage opens up on the northwest face of the mountain, near the base. It’s hidden in a small crease in the granite. Make sure your people check it when they leave so they know where it is. If you have to enter from the main entrance….” Faestari left the threat unfinished. The orc chief’s skin had almost returned to its original green. As the silence lingered it turned gray again.
“I understand,” the chief said as he accepted the three granite rods. “We will use our door.”
As soon as the chief had the rods, he turned and rushed away from Faestari. The other orcs quickly followed, streaming from the room into one of the deeper chambers in their lair. Three orcs remained, standing guard over the doorway the others had rushed through.
Faestari turned and walked out of the Orc’s lair. As she entered the short passage between the lair and the rest of the dungeon, she turned right and stepped into an alcove that opened up in the granite wall. It led to a circular stairway. The dungeon avatar immediately began walking downward as the alcove closed up behind her.
The echo of Faestari’s footsteps were the only sound in the stairway. The young dungeon avatar moved downward at a steady pace. She had taken just over fifty steps when she stopped. An off-key chime rang out in the stairway.
“Where is this dungeon?” a toneless voice boomed out. It was full of power, but seemed completely lacking in emotion.
“Probably wandering her caves,” the voice of the Wynterhold Dungeon avatar replied. “I’m sure she sensed that we have come.”
“She?” the booming voice called out. It sounded more like a condemnation than a question. Faestari paused and then began rushing down the stairs.
She burst out of the stairway and into the small chamber she used at her home. Two humanoid figures were staring at the water that filled the one side of the room.
“Wynterhold,” she called out carefully. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d have adventurers this time of year.”
“There is a storm in the mountains around the dungeon,” the ugly dwarf said as he turned around. He paused to look at Faestari. “You’ve changed.”
Faestari nodded as the other figure turned. It had a humanoid shape, but the arms and legs seemed underdeveloped. The head had only two small holes where eyes would normally be found. There was no nose or mouth making the figure look even more inhuman. The figure just stood motionless for a moment.
“Why are you not by your core?” the figure boomed out. Once again the voice was toneless and emotionless, but filled with power.
“I was working with my orcs,” Faestari replied.
“Working with them?” the voice boomed out again.
The Wynterhold avatar stepped forward. He put his hands out as if he was going to try to push Faestari and the faceless figure apart. “Wait, let’s start with introductions. Faestari, this is the oldest dungeon I know about.”
Faestari nodded carefully. “Welcome to my humble dungeon.”
“Dungeons should not be humble. You are strong. Others are merely food for you,” the dungeon avatar boomed out.
“Does your dungeon have a name?” Faestari asked carefully.
Wynterhold coughed. “I’ve never heard of one. It’s on an island in the middle of the Shipwrack Sea.”
“Long ago the island was the centerpiece of the Kingdom of Psyack,” the dungeon said. “The king used magic to control the weather on the sea. He would raid the small states lining the shores of what he saw as his own personal demense. Nobles he captured were thrown into a labyrinth. Eventually their suffering and struggles awoke me.”
“So the Shipwrack dungeon? Or perhaps the Psyack dungeon?” Faestari asked.
“It does not matter,” the ancient dungeon replied. “We are here to judge you. You have not acted like a proper dungeon.”
“I wouldn’t know how a proper dungeon is supposed to act,” Faestari said tartly. “Wynterhold has been a blessing as he helped me get my bearings and to understand what I am, but the rest I have had to learn by doing.”
“You talk to adventurers,” was the boomed reply.
“Oh? I’m not supposed to do that?” Faestari asked.
“You could reveal secrets!” the dungeon said again.
“Like what?” Faestari said. “And why? Any secret I was stupid enough to reveal would be used against me first. After all there’s been two attempts to capture me.”
“Two?” the Wynterhold dungeon asked.
“A band of adventurers came. The leader claimed he was here to destroy me, but one of the wizards in the group carried a gemstone that had been enchanted to act like a dungeon core. I firmly believe they hoped to force my soul into the stone,” Faestari said.
“What happened to them?” the ancient dungeon asked.
“Two members of the group backed out before the party entered the dungeon. The adventurers who regularly enter insisted that they were in the wrong to want to destroy me. The six who entered did not emerge from my caverns,” Faestari said with finality.
“And the gemstone?” Wynterhold asked.
“I’ve kept it,” Faestari said. “It’s concealed where I keep all the t
reasures I’ve created, but haven’t placed.”
“And the other attempt?” Wynterhold asked.
“A wizard who had been insisting for some time that he was descended from my father,” Faestari started.
“Dungeons are born of magic, they have no mothers or fathers,” the ancient dungeon said, interrupting Faestari. The avatar walked around Wynterhold and put a hand on Faestari’s shoulder.
Faestari’s legs sank into the ground as she stood firm against the avatar’s hand. “I’m not like other dungeons. I lived for ten winters believing that I was a human child.”
“What?” the ancient dungeon asked. “How?”
“I knew of the dungeon she claims as her mother,” Wynterhold said as he moved between Faestari and the other dungeon again, carefully removing the older dungeon’s hand from Faestari’s shoulder. “She was known for asking many questions of other dungeons. It is possible she discovered a way to combine a part of her magic with a human’s seed. But I have not had any interest in trying it.”
“So, you lived among humans?” the ancient dungeon asked. “Do you not understand that we feed on their deaths?”
“I also receive mana from all the life in my caverns,” Faestari said. “Yes, I receive more mana if an adventurer dies, but that is not necessary for me to thrive.”
“How?” the ancient dungeon roared. “The lives of adventurers are mana in its purest form.”
Faestari looked down at the floor of the cavern. “My mother left me with four mana crystals.”
“What?” the ancient dungeon roared again. The faceless avatar spun and put its hands on the avatar of Wynterhold. “You told me nothing of this.”
“I did not know,” the ugly dwarf said. “She never said anything about having mana crystals.
“They should not work,” the ancient dungeon said. “No dungeon can create mana crystals and use them to feed their own need for mana.”
“I didn’t make them,” Faestari said. She glared at the ancient dungeon’s back. “When I woke from the slumber my mother put me in, the four crystals surrounded my gemstone. I have ensured they remain there.”
