DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS: BIRTH OF LEGENDS
By Shawn E. Murray
CHAPTER I: ROOM THIRTEEN, PART ONE
Barakus and Furrius tread down a winding, dirty path. Ahead in the distance, they could see the faint outline of the outskirts of a small town.
"Any clue where we're headed, Barakus?" the cleric asked casually. He knew that even if Barakus responded, it'd be short and poignant.
"No." True to form, the large human responded monosyllabically. His studded leather vest glinted in the sunlight as they reached an impasse – standing in front of them was a short, robed figure, holding out a small piece of parchment.
He said nothing – he merely gestured for Furrius or Barakus to take the letter – it was clear that it was intended for both of them. No sooner than Furrius relieved the figure of his letter, he disappeared – certainly, this being possessed mastery over magic…perhaps, even, over planes of existence.
Quickly cracking the waxen seal of the letter, Furrius read it aloud to Barakus – his barbarian counterpart couldn't read a word of common, though he was extraordinarily smart for a man of his class. Perhaps it was the two years he and Furrius had spent together that had somewhat tamed the savage beast – but no, Furrius knew all too well that Barakus could rage just as well as his barbaric brethren.
"It says we should go to room thirteen in the Three Winds Inn…this guy seems to want to enlist our services in some kind of mission…"
"Waste of time…" Barakus said, starting to walk toward the town ahead. He dismissed the contents of the letter as Furrius quickened his pace to catch up – half-elves were typically fast and nimble, but the way Furrius had been brought up in conjunction with the awkward armor he wore made him downright clumsy.
"We should help him, Barakus. If I hadn't helped you, I'd be walking this path alone right now…at least, let's go hear him out. We can choose whether or not to help him after we get to room thirteen."
Barakus' brow furrowed into what Furrius recognized as his 'thoughtful' look.
"Fine."
Walking through the town seemed ordinary enough – many different classes of people milled about, creating the illusion that it was a crossroads of sorts. After only a few minutes, Furrius and Barakus found themselves standing in front of a two story building with a large sign out in front. The sign read "The Three Winds Inn". Across town, they could see two rivers flowing through the center of it – they were beautiful, accenting the beauty of the town immensely. Far away, they could faintly see a sign over a building that read simply, "TWINN."
"Room thir-" Furrius began to inquire inside the Three Winds, holding up the piece of parchment on which the message was written - but the desk clerk merely smiled and pointed up the stairs. Traveling the worn, wooden hallway, they finally found themselves in front of room thirteen.
"Open," Barakus muttered.
Furrius bit his lip – it was one thing to travel with a large, barbaric meat-shield. It was another to take orders from him.
"Yes. Open. I understand. Thanks for the insight, friend…" he said in a harried tone of voice.
Barakus scowled at his cleric friend. "Sorry," he said, rapping his companion powerfully on the shoulder. Furrius, proving his nimbleness, lost his footing and slammed into the door, face first. The only thing that broke his fall was the thin layer of parchment which was the letter.
Upon touching the door, the letter glowed a bright white – instantly, it shot out in all directions, eventually engulfing the entire doorway in an ethereal, bright light. Smiling awkwardly at his friend, Furrius gestured for him to enter the white doorway.
"After you," he said, his eye catching Barakus' greataxe as he stepped ahead of him. If something was to attack them, it was always best to have someone skilled in combat up ahead…
Moments later, as the white light subsided, Furrius and Barakus found themselves standing in a large, stone room. The walls of the room seemed rustic, decrepit. They saw nothing up ahead, but heard a strange cackling voice ring out through the room.
"How nice of you to come so quickly – truly a blessing," the voice sneered, breaking out into a maniacal fit of laughter immediately thereafter. Furrius looked at Barakus, frowning slightly. Barakus held his head as the laughter rattled his brain – Furrius had to stand firmly to defend against it. Was it an attack? It certainly seemed to be causing a bit of pain to his tall friend…
"Quite a welcome…" he said, visually checking the room as the laughter abruptly stopped. "Hello? Hello!" he called, but there was no answer. A tall door stood ahead of him, three panels clearly different than the rest of the room; Barakus had keenly spotted a small slit beneath one of the stone panels to the right of the room – upon sticking his fingers beneath it, he found a small, wooden button which he promptly pushed. Caught unaware by the rapid movement of the panel, Barakus nearly lost a finger as it slid into the wall, revealing a long, ornate hidden passageway.
"Barakus, look at this door…fascinating. Some technology, eh?" the half-elf muttered to his friend as he ran his fingers along the door. Barakus was halfway down the newly discovered passageway when Furrius heard him call, "split up."
Sensing no threat, Furrius passed through the large doorway – the three panels that comprised the door slid into each other, one after the next. The material of the next room was unheard of – it looked black and sleek, smooth to the touch. Almost slippery…as Furrius ran his hand over the various jewels and inscriptions in the wall, he realized most of the words were in a strange language that even he didn't understand in the faintest.
Barakus wandered the hidden hallway – it was beautiful. Fantastic masonry work made it look much more like a passage in a castle than one in a dungeon – as he reached the end of the hallway, he noticed two large wooden doors. Pushing them inward, Barakus alerted the surprised, unseen residents of the small, pitch black room. As he casually reached back to procure a torch from his pack, he sadly realized that he had come unprepared. It was very unlike him to lack a tool as necessary as a torch – lately, they had become unnecessary. Furrius constantly cast a light spell when they reached nightfall or dark areas…but now his cleric friend was nowhere to be seen.
At the very end of the long, wide hallway made of black stone, Furrius happened across a spiral staircase that led downward, made of the same material. Remembering how slick the substance was, Furrius steadied himself as best he could before embarking – but it was no use. The clumsy cleric merely touched one foot to the topmost stair before he slid down the entire length of the ladder, landing squarely on his rear end.
Always prepared with a light spell, Furrius smiled upward to Wee Jas. "Thank you, god…" he said as his mace lit up like a torch. The elvin cleric immediately wished he hadn't lit the room, however – standing a mere five feet away from him were several disgusting beasts, each snarling at the intruder. Furrius attempted to dodge a slash from a spiked chain, whipped by one of the beasts, but he failed – the chain knocked him to the ground, incapacitated, as the chain-mail clad warriors dragged him away across the smooth, earthy ground.
Barakus wasn't having any fun either – monsters were attacking him from all sides, moving as quickly and surely as any creature would in plain light. Eventually, the beasts (Barakus had surmised there were at least two) had knocked the barbarian out cold.
Hours later, Furrius woke up, his arms stinging with pain. He soon realized he was shackled to a wall in a medium sized chamber made of a strange, earthy material. It wasn't entirely organic…but it was definitely lacking the finesse of a stone or wooden room. Torches lit the room in sconces hanging on the walls as a large, intimidating creature toyed with the patient cleric. Furrius hadn't been on many adventures, and those he remembered had involved standard fare like humans and orcs – these creatures were something entirely new to him…he began to loathe and despise them and their entire race as they tortured him for hours on end, cutting his clothes and burning his flesh until he passed out, repeatedly. It felt like weeks…months…every waking moment that Furrius wasn't being tortured by his captors, he spent praying to Wee Jas.
Barakus wasn't out cold for long – in fact, he woke up minutes after he had been clubbed in the head. Unfortunately, he was in a similar predicament to the cleric – a small, ten by five room was all he could see around him – no doors, no windows. The rage burning deep inside him, Barakus pounded the walls, attempting to escape…but it was no use…he passed out slumped against the wall, hoping that soon Furrius would rescue him…