Dungeon Bringer 1

by Nick Harrow

  Pinchy guided me as I kept the winding ramp as close as possible to the chasm itself. Zillah also tapped her spear against the wall every two or three turns of the ramp to analyze the vibrations herself. We went on like that for what felt like hours, but the Tablet of Engineering told me we’d only descended one hundred and thirty feet when Zillah stopped me.

  “I think we’re below the chasm,” she said. “The vibrations aren’t hitting a hollow space in that direction anymore.”

  Pinchy concurred with Zillah’s analysis, and I let out a deep breath. We still had plenty of volume left, more than enough to reach the stele even if I made the tunnel ten feet wide and just as tall.

  “Here we go,” I said. “Check the roof as we move, I don’t want to pop up in the bottom of the chasm. The stele is forty or so feet above our current position, and about a thousand feet ahead.”

  Pinchy and her cohorts immediately scrambled up the wall and positioned themselves on the ceiling. Their clawed feet tapped out a staccato double-time rhythm as they scurried ahead of us, and I opened the passageway a little farther ahead than normal to give them their head. It made the scorpions happy to scout for me, and it made me happy to have as much warning as I could get of a possible terrain change.

  “This mobile dungeon is really a pretty good idea,” Zillah said. “The other dungeon lords are going to be pissed when they find out what you’re up to.”

  “Other dungeon lords?” I asked.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Zillah said. “If there were any nearby, you’d already know about it.”

  I put that topic of conversation into my back pocket and left it there. I had more than enough on my plate without borrowing any new troubles. Plus, maybe I could work out a peace treaty with any dungeon lords who happened to be nearby. Why should we compete when we could work together to punish the raiders for their bullshit?

  Twenty minutes later, we were about a hundred yards away from the stele, and a little more than ten feet below it.

  “Hold up,” Zillah said. Pinchy had returned a few moments earlier and dropped onto the scorpion queen’s shoulder. “The scouts say there’s a cavern above us. A good-sized one. They couldn’t make out the entire dimensions, but it’s at least fifty yards across, maybe more.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” I said. “I’ll move the tunnel right up to the stele, then build a ramp up to reach it.”

  “The cavern isn’t the problem. There’s movement,” Zillah said. “A lot of it.”

  I cursed, but we’d come too far to turn back now. We had to have the stele, no matter what creature or monsters guarded it. Because if we didn’t take it and then conquer the raiders’ gate, we were all dead. Better to take our chances here than die like rats in a hole later.

  “I hope whoever’s up there is ready to die,” I said.

  I increased the width of our passage to fifteen feet and asked Zillah to order a double row of spears into the lead. All sixteen of the spear-and-shield wahket crammed in close with their shields overlapped and their spears poised to thrust. They hunkered down low so the rank of eight crossbows could fire over their heads without drilling a bolt between the ears of the frontline fighters.

  It was time to move out.

  “Don’t advance beyond the end of the passage, no matter what you do,” I said, and Zillah repeated my order. “I’ll keep the walls up to protect our flanks, but if you get out ahead of them, you’ll be exposed.”

  The wahket all nodded as Zillah relayed my commands, and low growls rumbled in their throats. The sound reminded me of the angry grumbles of hungry lionesses, and I felt a surge of pride in my new warriors.

  Zillah and I took up positions behind the ranked warriors, and I called Nephket up to join us. The second squad of crossbows bunched up behind us to watch for an ambush in that direction. I doubted we’d have any trouble from the rear, but I could never be too sure. If we faced smart opponents, they might try to breach my dungeon walls and catch us in a surprise pincer attack.

  I really hoped they weren’t that smart.

  Hell, I was relying on my experience of tabletop wargaming to carry this off. Maybe I was the one who wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.

  “Let’s move,” I said. “The tunnel will slope up, and I’ll get us as close to the stele as I can. Zillah, let me know if anything changes above us, and keep the lines of communication open with Pinchy.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement as Zillah repeated my words, and even my scorpions slapped their tails against stone above us as if to acknowledge my command.

  I shoved the nose of our passage up through the floor about fifty yards from the stele’s location, because I wasn’t sure what we’d face. If the stele was as powerful as Zillah had told me, there was a very good chance whoever was moving around here knew that and had set up guards nearby. I didn’t want to surface and find my team surrounded. Better to come at this with a little distance and give the archers a chance to even the odds before we closed to melee range.

  The tunnel emerged through the stone floor like a curious whale poking its nose above the waves. We’d breached into a wide, circular cavern that was close to a hundred yards across and at least fifty feet tall. The scorpions had given me enough recon that I’d expected the cavern.

  But I hadn’t expected the temple.

  An ancient and decrepit structure rose from the center of the cavern’s floor and surrounded the stele. Despite their obvious age, the stones and pillars of the structures seemed strong and sturdy. A pair of wide stone doors that were twice as tall as I was barred the entrance to the temple. Their surfaces were engraved with sinuous patterns that I couldn’t make out at this distance, but something about them gave me the heebie-jeebies. They weren’t right, somehow.

  Then the doors creaked open, and what emerged from within the temple was even more not right.

  Dozens of bulky humanoids with bandied legs and strange, hunched postures stomped out of the temple in uneven ranks. They held a mixture of heavy cudgels, unwieldy swords, and strangely curved daggers that glinted with black light. At first, I thought they wore no armor, but on closer inspection I realized that their defenses grew out of their flesh.

  The lumbering troops looked like upright beetles, their backs covered with thick, irridescent carapaces that completely covered them from the backs of their heads down to their ankles. Their chests were crisscrossed with bands of thick, knotty chitin, and even their arms and legs were armored and had dangerous-looking spikes at the joints.

  And their faces. Good God, those faces.

  They looked almost human, but their eyes were massive compound lenses. Their mouths were split wide by yard-long mandibles that looked sharp enough to take an arm off in a single snip, and they had no noses to speak of. There was just enough humanity left in them to make me wonder if these creatures had once been something else, something more normal than the beastly creatures that stomped down the temple’s steps toward us.

  Before I could react to this unexpected turn of events, Zillah leaped into action.

  “We need to square up to face their charge,” the scorpion queen said to me. Then she slapped her hand on the back of the nearest wahket and shouted, “Spears down, crossbows fire!”

  I willed the passage forward, then angled it slightly to the right so its open end faced directly up the stairs toward the temple doors. The beetle boys would have no choice but to march straight down the tunnel’s throat if they wanted to fight.

  The wahket responded with better order than I’d expected. The front rank of spear women shifted as I moved the dungeon’s exit, then went down to one knee. The second rank leaned over their sisters and braced their shields on the shoulders of the wahket ahead of them. They formed a tight hedge of spear points that would make almost anyone think twice about charging.

  The third rank of wahket, the first bearing crossbows, raised their weapons to their shoulders and took aim.

  “Right flank!” the first wahket o
n that side shouted, and the warriors pivoted their aim.

  The bug men outnumbered us at least three to one. They’d ranked up ten wide but had to adjust their position when they saw they’d never fit that many of their number into the tunnel. They had no shields and didn’t even try to hunker down as the crossbow bolts ripped through the air toward their flank.

  All eight bolts slammed into the same scarab man, and he flopped back onto the ground with a strangled, inhuman cry.

  His companions didn’t even glance at the pincushioned warrior as they marched past him. They readied their weapons and began a ponderous advance across the twenty-five-yard gap to our position.

  The wahket with crossbows knelt behind the spears and stomped on the stirrups of their weapons to reload. They rose a moment later and loosed, still concentrated on the right flank. Another bug man went down, something green sizzling from his mouth.

  I was impressed by the accuracy and speed of the crossbows, but the two dead bugs had done nothing to slow the advance of their comrades.

  “We’ll get one more volley,” Zillah said. “Then they’ll be on us.”

  The way she said it wasn’t a warning. She hungered for battle. Zillah wanted the bug boys to close ranks with us so she could get in the fight. Her spear and tail were both long enough to reach past the front ranks of spear-wielding wahket, and I had no doubt she’d make a place for herself there.

  The front row of spear women ducked low as the original rank of archers rose up to their full height and fired again. Bolts tore into the right side of the approaching formation, and another bug man went down in a spray of shattered chitin and green gore. The bad guys were almost on top of us.

  More than anything, I wanted to incarnate, draw my khopesh, and lay waste to these assholes who dared to stand in my way.

  That gave me an idea.

  “I’m extending the passage ahead of us,” I said. “I want their ka.”

  The Tablet of Engineering responded to my wishes instantly, and the passage forged ten feet ahead of the wahket. That brought it to the very feet of the first bug men, where it stopped cold.

  [[[Unable to extend passages into populated space.]]]

  “Hold your ground!” I shouted to keep the wahket from rushing forward. I needed the bug creatures inside my dungeon, not dying at its threshold.

  Zillah barked my orders at the wahket, and they braced themselves for battle.

  I focused my attention on the first bug as he and his friends suddenly picked up their pace to an ungainly charge and crashed into the front ranks of the wahket. The wall of cat women bowed for a moment, and then their allies behind them braced and thrust their spears forward into the bodies of their attackers. The line held, but I wasn’t sure for how long.

  [[[Tomb Scarabkin

  Medium monstrosity, neutral evil

  Armor Class: 14 (Natural Armor), 11 While Prone

  Hit Points: 12 to 66 (Average 39)

  Speed: 30 feet, burrow 10 feet

  STR: 17 (+3)

  DEX: 11 (+0)

  CON: 13 (+1)

  INT: 1 (-5)

  WIS: 13 (+1)

  CHA: 6 (-2)

  Senses: Dark Sight 60 feet, Vibration Sense 60 feet, Passive Perception 11

  Languages: Common, Fiend Speech

  Challenge: 2

  Abilities

  Burrowers Beneath the Earth: Tomb scarabkin burrow through dirt or stone at a rate of 10 feet per round using their acidic saliva and powerful mandibles. These tunnels are primarily used to search for the tombs of the Buried Kings, but they are also utilized when the scarabkin must head to the surface in search of corpses to feast upon or living victims to sacrifice to the blood oracles of their priestesses.

  Devourers of Decay: The tomb scarabkin can regenerate 2 to 12 (Average 7) hit points per round if they have access to a corpse upon which to feast. While performing this action, the scarabkin are quite vulnerable. Any attacks made against them have advantage during the feasting round.

  Actions

  Bite: Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 feet, one target. Hit: 5 - 15 (Average 10) slashing damage plus 1 to 6 (Average 3) acid damage.

  Acid Spray: The tomb scarabkin spits acid in a line 30 feet long and 5 feet wide. Each creature in that line must make a DC 13 Dexterity saving throw, taking 3 to 18 (Average 10) acid damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. Each scarabkin requires approximately one minute to recharge their acid spray before it can be used again.

  Reactions

  The tomb scarabkin do not seek conflict with other races, but their actions make it almost impossible to avoid. If left in peace, the scarabkin only attack others when they need sacrifices for their blood rituals.

  Unfortunately, this is a monthly ritual and at least three sacrifices are needed. This puts the scarabkin in conflict with other races near their territories, as does the scarabkin habit of raiding surface graveyards for rotting meat to fill their bellies.]]]

  Well, that was just lovely.

  Not only were these overgrown dung beetles more than twice as powerful as my lowly first-level wahket soldiers, they also had some nasty tricks up their chitinous sleeves. The acid breath was bad, but the ability to devour the dead to regenerate themselves was much worse.

  “Watch for their spit!” I warned Zillah. “Tell the wahket to keep their heads down or those bug men will burn them off.”

  “Dammit,” Zillah snarled. “I hate spitters.”

  Her tail darted forward at one of the scarab soldiers who’d been wounded in the initial clash with the wahket. The beastly warrior had reared back and spread his mandibles wide to unleash a volley of corrosive saliva, but he never had a chance. The tip of Zillah’s stinger punched through the side of the scarab’s face and burst out the top of his skull in a shower of gore. Zillah’s tail recoiled and prepared to strike again, but the scarabs didn’t seem to notice their friend’s death.

  Which was good for us. I’d been afraid the scarabs would pull back and unleash a few volleys of their corrosive saliva to soften us up. The wahket had the superior range with their bows, but it took an entire volley of crossbow fire to bring one of the scarabkin down. If their leader was any good at his job, our losses would have been very, very grave.

  Fortunately, whoever ran the show on their side of the field sucked at his job.

  The scarabkin had reduced the width of their ranks to enter the dungeon. Their bulky carapaces made it impossible for them to fit more than three abreast, which limited the attacks they could throw at the wahket.

  The stupid bastards didn’t know they’d been funneled into a killing trap until they’d already committed to the attack.

  “Second rank, thrust!” Zillah shouted.

  The wahket obeyed instantly. The front row of cat warriors shoved their shields forward to push their foes off-balance, and the second rank rammed their spears into the bodies of their enemies. The wounds they caused weren’t enough to kill the enemy warriors, but that wasn’t their plan.

  The four warriors on the left side of the second rank slammed their weapons into the outermost scarabkin on their side. They bore down on their weapons and pinned the poor bastard against the side of my dungeon, while the wahket on the right did the same maneuver on their side. The front rank of cat women roared in triumph and thrust their own weapons deep into the trapped scarabkin’s bodies. Zillah followed up with a brutal strike of her tail and a powerful lunge from her forked spear to keep the scarabkin in the center of the fray off-balance.

  The front rank ripped their weapons free of the scarabkin, then thrust again. In ten seconds, the cat women had taken down two of the three bug men in front of them without suffering a scratch.

  “Second rank!” Zillah cried. “Strike center!”

  All eight spears from the second rank shot past the shoulders of the warriors in the front row. The dead bodies of the third scarabkin’s allies gave the poor bastard no room to maneuver to avoid the attacks that came
for him. He tried to deflect some spears with his chitinous arms and the heavy spiked cudgel in his right hand, but it was no use. Spears plowed through his armored body, and the front rank followed up with a furious rain of finishing blows.

  “Steady up!” Zillah shouted. “Make them drag their own dead out of the way while you recover your breath. Those corpses are too big to walk over, and they’ll need the space to fight. In the meantime, archers, loose!”

  Another flurry of crossbow bolts punched into the scarab on the right as he tried to drag his dead friend out of the way. The blistering barrage chipped holes in his shell to reveal a mass of goopy, green organs inside. He screeched and opened his mouth to spit, but the second rank of archers unleashed hell on the asshole, and he collapsed before he could make good on his attack.

  The wahket kept up their savage defense, and the scarabkin’s wounds mounted. But the bug people weren’t going down without a fight, and soon the front rank of the wahket were bruised and battered. They held their ground, but they weren’t used to taking a hit, and their low level didn’t give them the endurance to stand up against such a relentless onslaught.

  Zillah saw the problem at the same instant I did and went to work. She thrust her spear past the front ranks and took the head off one of the bug men, then finished another with a quick stab of her tail. The venom frothed violently from the wound she’d inflicted, and the bug man staggered back into his companions before he collapsed.

  That gave the front line a moment to breathe, and Zillah took advantage of it. She grabbed two of the most badly wounded spear women and shoved them away from the front line.

  “You two rest up,” she shouted. “The rest of you tighten ranks. Let’s show these butt lice how women fight!”