Camelot Dungeon

by Galen Wolf

  Finally, I need to go see the mules. Henry is in the field with the rest of the mules. My stallion Spirit whinnies when he sees me.

  Henry says, "How's it going, fella?"

  "Good. We need more time than we've probably got, but so far so good."

  "And where's that owl of yours? The bad tempered one."

  "Blodeuwedd? She's around somewhere. She comes and goes as she wants. She doesn't like underground, and I've been underground for a while now."

  "So we're all going in there?"

  I nod.

  He sucks his big mule lips. "I've been talking to the other guys." He means the mules. "Not the stallion. He's too hoity-toity to talk to us. He's just like "Sir Gorrow is my master. I obey Sir Gorrow", you know..."

  "Spirit can talk? He's never talked to me."

  "He can only talk horse. You know whinnies, snickers, snorts. We understand him 'cause we're half horse, you know? Mules."

  "Fine."

  "Well, me and the mules are wondering if you're going to make us slaves."

  "Erm. Why do you wonder that? I've been good to you. Oats when you want..."

  "Oats, mostly when we want. Not always. Sometimes you make us wait and say waiting's good for us."

  "It is. Anyway, what's this about slaves?"

  "Well, Bessie is telling me a donkey told her about pit ponies."

  "Which are?"

  "Ponies, horses, mules, forced to work underground to pull carts of coal."

  "We're not digging coal."

  "The principle is the same."

  "Listen Henry, you want to stay up here and work for the enemy, that's your call. I'm not forcing you to go into the mine, though I think it'd be safer for you, and to be honest, we probably can find you work with the construction. But we'll keep you and feed you and treat you well."

  Henry ponders for a while. He looks over at Bessie who comes up. Seems she's maybe behind this. "Hi Bessie."

  "Hello, Sir Gorrow. It's just what I hear from a donkey."

  "Don't believe what donkeys tell you, Bessie. That's always good advice."

  "But it'll be okay?"

  "Of course. I've always tried to be good to you."

  "And you have."

  She gives a mule nod. "Okay then. We'll come. That okay with you Henry?"

  "Sure. Whatever you say, Bess."

  "Right, we might as well move you in now." I don't know where they'll go and I hate to ask Thorvald to excavate a stable.

  "Soon as we dig up into the valley, of course you're going to live up there in the fields. But for now, we're still underground."

  The mules follow me, Henry, Bessie, John and the new ones Jason purchased for the cargo runs. Before entering the mine, I go up and stroke Spirit. He snickers. I hate the idea of putting him underground, even for a short while.

  We enter the mines and I find a miner. I send the mules with him to Thorvald. He'll know how to use them. I have no idea how that will work.

  Then I'm confronted by Asterix with three new NPCs. The first is a dark haired, muscled man, stripped to the waist. He has a black braided beard and arms as thick as my legs. Asterix says, "This is Geraint, the Blacksmith."

  I extend my hand and he squeezes it. "We don't have a forge for you yet, but we're working on it."

  "That's fine. If you find me a room, I've got my own anvil. And I'm still getting paid even if I can't forge."

  That's a point. Timing isn't great, the blacksmith will be costing me money and beer even though he isn't producing goods. But he's Level 1. I guess even hammering out iron on his anvil will level him. And we have plenty of iron, as the miners have dug the long tunnel they've just piled lumps of ore along the passageway. Geraint can go collect that and work with it. I say as much and he nods. "Sure, can do. I'll take a wander along."

  The next NPC is a tall guy with pot belly and a leather jerkin. He has the remains of acne and thin brown hair. He looks like he'd be selling newspapers and cigarettes from a street stall in a modern city. He nods. He seems keen to please. "Hello, Sir Gorrow. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I've hear good things about you."

  "You have?"

  "Sure, sure. Many good things."

  I look at Asterix who blushes.

  "I'm Simon." The vendor extends his hand. It's slightly sweaty. "Whatever you need, I can get. Don't hesitate to ask."

  Simon comes in close and whispers until Asterix catches his sleeve and drags him back. "Like I'm saying, Sir Gorrow. I give you good prices on everything you bring me. You have my word on that."

  "That's great Simon. You're going to be a key member of the team."

  Then Asterix turns and introduces me to the third NPC. This guy is small. In fact I realize he's a halfling. He's dressed in Ninja black with black leather boots. His hood is down and I can hardly see his face. "This is William the Silent," Asterix says.

  The halfling doesn't reply. I guess why they call him 'The Silent'. This must be my rogue. "Pleased to meet you, William." He doesn't go to shake my hand. I say, "You're going to be very busy."

  He mutters. "I promise you all your enemies will die."

  I think that's probably not accurate. At least not by his hand. I can't see him taking on Satanus himself, but the sentiment is appreciated.

  "So, you're Level 1?"

  He nods.

  "What traps can you do?"

  "Just the basic ones. But I'll level."

  "Which are they?"

  "Dart trap and pit trap so far."

  "Okay, that's a beginning. But you need to practice." I wish Oliver Stone was here. I need to talk to him in detail about how we are going to split off our living and production areas from the dungeon areas. I don't want bad guys spilling into our settlement, but I do want them wandering around the dungeon and dying lots.

  "Listen, you go and see Oliver Stone. Asterix will take you. Tell him to start designing the entrance to the dungeon. I think the best thing is to knock a new entrance and we don't use the main mine entrance as a way into the dungeon. Tell him that. Get a few entrance tunnels, and trap them to your hearts content. Just get lots of practice and level up fast."

  William the Silent nods.

  "Will that be all, Sir Gorrow?" Asterix says.

  "For now. Good job with the recruits."

  The next thing I do is go and see Bernard in his alchemists lab. He's toiling over his bubbling flasks. Yellow flames spurt up from nowhere and acrid and sweet smells mix as colored mists in the smoky room. "Hey, Gorrow. Here." He gives me a Health 120 potion and another one that sparkles in its little bottle.

  "You can't keep giving me all your potions."

  "Yes, I can. You're my pal. I guess in this dungeon you're my superior officer too."

  "Well thanks." I waggle the crystal bottle. "What's this one? It's pretty."

  "Invisibility potion. I figured you could use it as dungeon boss, skulking invisibly around your labyrinth."

  I laugh. "Sounds fun.'

  'You know the new NPCs have arrived?"

  "Yeah, the blacksmith and rogue?"

  "And the vendor. You should sell him some potions if you need the cash."

  "Thanks. Good idea. I might just do that."

  Bernard heats a mauve liquid in a big flask over a gas flame. "By the way," he says. "I got a message back from St Fitheach. He wants to come."

  "Really? That's awesome news. He just needs a chapel, right?"

  Bernard shrugs. "Nah. I mean, yes, eventually, but he's a good guy. He'll just come and help out until we can build him a chapel."

  "Well that's amazing of him. When's he coming?"

  "Soon. A day or two maybe? Maybe sooner. He started travelling when he got my dove message."

  A dungeon boss's work is never done. I walk down the long corridor, which is getting longer, past the piles of metal ore glittering in the light of the never dying torches. This must be over a mile now. Might even be two.

  I bump into Henry hauling a cart filled with rubble. One of the mi
ners is with him. "Hey, Henry!" I say.

  "Hi, Gorrow!"

  "How you liking it? The life of a pit pony?"

  "Loving it. Never realized it would be so much fun, and I'm getting a great work out."

  "Where are you taking the rubble?"

  The miner says, "Sorry, sir, but this can be used in construction. We understand you need us to make chambers and rooms."

  I smile. "That's right. Good to see nothing going to waste."

  Just then I hear the sound of running feet. I spin, my hand going to my sword hilt. It's one of the militia. I see the panic on his face. "What's up?" I bark.

  "Sir, they're here."

  "Who's here?" For an instant I think it might be St Fitheach, and maybe he's got an entourage. But of course I know what he means. I grunt. "How many?"

  "About twenty. Hobgoblins, ogres. Dwemmer archers. They burst into the gate. They've got torches, they're going to burn the village down. You are such a long way down here, Sir Gorrow. It's taken time to find you. Heaven only knows if the farms are on fire yet."

  I leave Henry and the miner. Turning to the militia man, I say, "Lead the way."

  THE BURNING OF SILVER DRIFT

  We emerge from the cool of the mine and the heat of the burning village hits me. My militia are on the walls shooting down at the enemy minions but there are lots of them, maybe fifty. I see a line of Dwemmer archers firing back up at my guys, and it looks like we've taken casualties. Armand runs up and down on the ramparts trying to marshal the defense.

  The gates are closed but hobgoblin soldiers have ladders against them and are going up. We simply don't have the manpower to keep them out. We don't have enough guards to man every inch of the walls. And for a second I feel guilty, all the money and effort going up in flames, not to mention the NPCs lives. But there was now way Silver Drift could survive now Camelot had fallen. The end was inevitable, but I hoped we would have more time.

  The militia man with me takes out his sword and looks to me for guidance. I want to find Spirit, who was grazing in a field inside the town walls. I also need to get to Jason and see how much of the beer we can salvage. There's still some heavy digging to go, maybe days, before we get to a point where we can excavate up and out into the open air the far side of the hills. I need there to be enough beer to feed the miners so they don't weaken and die before we break out, otherwise we'll be entombed down there.

  There's not only Evil NPCs outside the settlement walls, there's at least one enemy player character. I see him dressed in black, he's a warrior type of some kind and he's wearing the insignia of the Fangs of Koth guild. I don't have time to bother with him now, but I will later. I need to get my horse and get my NPCs out safely.

  An ogre supported by three boggarts sees us and rushes, club swinging. My militia man, brave, but maybe unwise, goes for him. He contacts and gashes the ogre with his sword, but then the ogre swipes him and sends him tumbling. The boggarts are on my man like a pack of rabid dogs and all I hear is their hooting and his screaming.

  The ogre comes for me but I'm ready and I lunge.

 

  He swings at me and hits, but his club bounces off my armor. This is how it's going to be. I'm not worried for myself here, but I can't kill all of them before they burn Silver Drift down. The ogre isn't down yet, but as I hit him again for three hundred, he's beginning to see his attacking me is futile. I can see fear growing in his eyes. I hack down right as he misses me, and this time, I crit for 1605 and he expires with a whimper.

 

  I realize I'm just a hundred and thirty short of Level 12, but that's not what I'm about here. Level ling’s great and I need the skills, but in fact I still have 200 skills points I haven't spent. This is about protecting my NPCs.

  I go over to the militia NPC whose pixelated corpse is already twinkling out of existence. I sigh, I'm going to lose most of the militia in this fight. I sprint towards the palisade. A group of enemy boggarts stands between me and the wall and with a roar and rush, I cut left and right, whirling and hitting. They aren't much opposition, and two hits and they're dead, even without a critical. I kill one and then two, the third one tries to come at me from the right with his spear but I spin and catch him with the edge of my sword.

 

  The militia yell down to me, asking if I'm all right. I wipe the blade of my sword on the grass and shout up to throw down a rope. The guard disappears for a minute and comes back with a hemp rope which he drops, and it snakes down the wall to land softly on the grass. I grab it and test the tension, but he's got my weight. I have to go up this way, there's no way my guys could open the palisade gates for fear of letting the enemy in.

  More boggarts led by an ogre are coming up behind. I start to climb. I'm halfway up the wall when I look right to see the enemy have brought what look like hand grenades — pine cones soaked in pitch, and as I climb, I see them lighting them and hurling the grenades over the walls. This must be how they set the fires in the first place.

  Then I'm up on the rampart. Friendly hands grab my wrists and pull me up. The militia salute. "We're glad to see you, Sir Gorrow. Things aren't going well."

  I say, "I need you to try and evacuate. The settlement is lost."

  A grizzled militia-man says, "We can't just give up, surely?"

  "We're not giving up, this is a tactical retreat. Believe me, we're a long way from giving up but we have to be wise."

  The other militia guard is more responsive. "What do you need us to do?"

  "Gather all the farmers and what militia you have left and get ready to open the west gate and move toward the tower. " I indicate my limestone tower I was so proud of, and as I look, I see smoke starting to wisp out from one of the upper windows. It looks like the Dwemmers have been shooting fire arrows in, just hoping something would catch.

  The militia guy sees me looking. "The tower?"

  I breathe out. "When you make your move, I'll be with you. The tower door is locked. I want them to think we're holed up there."

  The first militia man stares down into the settlement and among the smoke we see Sergeant Armand has already gathered the farmers. He knew we needed to evacuate, and he's taken charge. That's what I pay him for. In beer.

  Okay. So far so good. At least as good as it can be. As I'm about to leave them, I ask, "How many have we lost?"

  The guard gives a sour look. "Maybe four." He shrugs. "Maybe five." That's about half the whole force. Just as I glance right, a big ogre clambers over the rampart to drop onto the palisade walkway. My sword is in my hand, billowing blue, yellow and white flames.

  The militia come after me but I yell over my shoulder, "No, go help Armand."

  The ogre doesn't stand a chance. It takes me three chops and he's dead, earning me a little more xp. There are a few more of them as I run along the rampart. I get to the middle steps, cutting down a couple more boggarts and then I hurry down so I'm inside the palisade and running along the path between two fields. The crops are now ruined. The barley has caught fire and that's the source of most of the smoke down here. The acrid stuff gets in my eyes and my throat and I'm half blinded. I see Spirit ahead of me in a field given over to clover. The smoke is billowing behind him and he's stamping and whinnying. The field gate is closed and he can't get out. I rush over and open the gate, and he comes to me. I snatch his bridle and lead him, but the fire is spooking him and his eyes are rolling. He rears as I take him and I whisper words of comfort and finally I get him calm. I put my foot in the stirrup and vault up and over. I feel better on horseback now. I remember the days when I couldn't ride and think how things have changed.

  I urge Spirit towards the brewery. At first he's nervous and backs up because we have to go through a wall of smoke. It's full of sparks and burning ash from the crops. One of the farmhouses is fully ablaze now, the thatch catches and blue flames lick over and through it like a hungry beast.
<
br />   Spirit rears but goes forward. I making clicking noises with my mouth to reassure him and we come out of the smoke in front of the brewery.

  Jason the Brewer is there alone, he's grimy with soot and sweat and lugging out barrels of beer. I ride up. "Jason, we've got to evacuate. They're coming over the walls."

  "I'm trying to get the beer out, we need it."

  I've heard that said many times in real life as a joke, but here in the game its for real. We really need the beer. But maybe we don't have time to rescue it. Not if I want to rescue Jason too.

  I stretch down but he's out of reach. "Come on, Jason."

  "Just a few more barrels."

  "We don't have time." I hear the roars of the enemy to my left. I can't see them but they're clearly wreaking destruction. I just hope Armand has got the gates open and got out to the tower with the remaining farmers and militia. And I need to be there to open the tower door for him. If the NPCs are caught in the open by the enemy, they'll be slaughtered.

  "Jason. It's an order. Get up on the back of me."

  "Sir Gorrow. I'm the business manager. I know how much beer we need for the miners. We won't be able to brew until we've built a new brewery and that's going to be a week. We simply don't have enough beer to feed everyone."

  Again I think this is a crazy conversation. And Jason would be right, apart from one thing.

  He really doesn't want to leave his charges here. He's standing by the barrels like they're his kids. Then I turn to see a massive Hill Giant emerge from the smoke. He's got boggarts around his knees like little yapping dogs.

  I turn Spirit to face him. He's massive, nearly as tall as the brewery itself. I've got no room to build up to a gallop, so the lance is going to be too unwieldy but the weight of my sword is reassuring in my hand.

  Spirit knows what to do. He explodes into a gallop, jerking me back in the saddle, and I bend low, shield up in my left hand and sword in the right.

  The Hill Giant has a flail and I see the huge spiked iron balls snaking through the air.

 

 

  Spirit rears up and strikes the giant with his front hooves and I jab straight at the monster.