The passage looked like something from a documentary he'd once watched about the Capuchin Crypts in Rome. Bones everywhere. The walls were stacked with them, mostly skulls, in careful rows, empty sockets staring at him from both sides. Loose bones lay scattered across the stone floor, some cracked, some whole. Long narrow recesses ran along both walls holding full skeletons laid out as if sleeping.
The ceiling was low, just high enough he could walk without ducking. There were no torches, only the light behind him and the faint wash of orange farther in where the passage opened into a room.
His Blood Sense showed each of the full skeletons had faint green threads, thin and rotted. Undead. Waiting. The rats were beyond the passage. In the open room at the end.
He took one cautious step forward.
The air changed the moment he stepped in. Closer, thicker.
A few more steps and a stench rolled over him. Rank, wet decay, it clung to the back of his throat. Spoiled flesh and rot. It smelled exactly like the corpse he’d fought tasted.
If I smelled that back home, I’d have spent the rest of the night hugging a toilet.
He eased forward, boots crunching on loose bone as he approached the flickering light ahead.
He was busy imagining every skeleton rising at once when a System message appeared. He jerked like he'd been shocked.
:: System: Urgency level low. Unread messages pending review.
Harry let out a short laugh.
System, you almost gave me a heart attack.
He scrolled through the first few alerts.
:: Damage: -28 [Health]
:: Warning: You have been inflicted with disease. (Corpse Rot).
:: System: Immune to disease (Corpse Rot does not take effect).
:: Warning: You have been inflicted with disease. (Necrotic Fever).
:: System: Immune to disease (Necrotic Fever does not take effect).
:: Skill [Frenzy]: (cost: 5 Vitae)
He stopped on the next one.
:: Experience gained: [+30] (Special target bonus added)
System, what does special target mean?
:: System: Special targets have uncommon attacks or defense. For example, magical attacks, poison, disease, or unusual armor.
What was that thing?
:: Scanning…
:: System: Data matches target to [Ancient Desiccant], level two.
Harry glanced at the rows of bones along the wall.
Some of these skeletons are undead. Are they the same thing?
:: System: Negative. Observed physical characteristics and location in level zero dungeon indicate most likely match as [Bone Shambler].
“Anything about them I should know?”
:: Designation: Bone Shambler
:: Type: Undead
:: Level Range: 1 to 2
:: Traits: Enhanced strength, enhanced speed, very low intellect
:: Weaknesses: Fire, blunt-force attacks
:: Immunities: Cold, electricity
:: Resistances: Piercing and edged attacks
Nice. What about the ancient corpse guy?
:: Designation: Ancient Desiccant
:: Type: Undead
:: Level Range: 2 to 5
:: Traits: Enhanced strength, low intellect
:: Special: Bite inflicts Necrotic Fever and Corpse Rot
:: Weakness: Fire
:: Resistances: Electricity
:: Immunities: Cold
I’m sensing a fire theme here. Hold on.
He turned and walked back into the main chamber toward the empty sarcophagus. He reached up and grabbed the torch, tugged, and found it stuck fast. He planted a boot against the wall, triggered his enhanced strength, and worked it free inch by inch.
When it finally came loose, the flame died the instant it left the sconce.
System, I cannot tell you how bone-crushingly disappointing that is.
:: System: The Dungeon Aspect is known for its capricious nature.
Yeah, I’ve heard that somewhere.
He shoved the torch back into the sconce. It flickered once and sprang back to life.
Just to be sure, he pulled it out again. Out went the flame. With a shrug, he returned it, watched it relight, and headed back toward the passage.
He stopped at the entrance and looked down at his spear. He walked back to the stairwell and left it leaning against the wall next to Cedric’s, then unhooked the mace from his belt.
Weakness, blunt-force attacks.
Stolen story; please report.
He hefted the mace and gave it a few practice swings.
I can do blunt force. I love blunt force.
Back at the passage, he moved through, only slowing when the stench washed over him again. As he neared the first Bone Shambler he stopped and slid forward a half foot at time, keeping any eye on the rotted thread he saw coming off of it. He found he could get closer than to the Desiccated Ancients.
They must be lower level? Whatever that means.
If he pressed himself to the opposite wall he could stay just far enough away not to wake it, the green thread starting to wave and twist. Like it was searching for him.
I’m glad they staggered these things out.
He moved side to side to go around each one.
The passage opened into a small square chamber, maybe ten feet by ten. Another corridor branched off the right-hand wall. A single burning torch mounted on the opposite side.
In the center of the room lay a mound of bodies. A tangled heap of limbs and torsos, some bloated, some collapsed inward, flesh in every stage of decay. None had armor. No belts or packs either. Some looked a year gone. Others, only weeks.
The smell was almost overpowering.
Fat rats crawled over the bodies, their slick tails sliding across the corpses. None of the bodies stirred. His Blood Sense showed one faint green thread buried at the bottom of the pile. Even when he eased right up to the pile the thread only gave the slightest movement.
A trap? Or because it was the oldest?
He nudged the body on top with his mace.
System, why are these so different than the rest?
:: Scanning…
:: System: Working hypothesis, these are former parties sent in by Zinkle.
Harry’s vision darkened at the edges as anger surged.
Breathe, Harry. In. Out.
He let out a long slow breath.
System, how can this be allowed?
:: System: Dungeons are inherently lethal. Entry is considered tacit acceptance of that risk.
I don’t care. This is wrong.
:: System: Display and desecration of bodies is atypical and indicates special circumstances.
I don’t know which is worse, Zinkle or your dungeon aspect.
He spent a few moments just breathing, letting the anger drain away. For now.
He knew he was calm when the smell overcame the benefit of the breathing exercise. He looked back at the rats. They crawled over the heap, completely oblivious to him.
He reached out and grabbed the closest one. It squirmed in his hand but didn’t resist.
So gross.
He willed his fangs to extend, lifted the rat like he was making a toast, and brought it to his mouth.
Bottoms up.
He bit down, triggered drain, and within seconds held the limp husk of an ex-rat. The good news, the stench was so bad he barely tasted it. A small mercy. It even helped wash away the lingering taste of rot from the desiccant, if only a little.
:: Skill [Drain] (+1 Health) (+1 Vitae)
H: 73 | V: 89 | TM: 11%
No experience?
:: System: Negative. Target level is too low.
Oh well, let’s do this.
He dropped the rat and moved around the pile to grab another. A particularly cute one, rounded ears, softer gray fur, bright, curious eyes.
:: Skill [Drain] (+1 Health) (+1 Vitae)
:: Warning: You have been inflicted with disease. (Carrion Plague).
:: System: Immune to disease (Carrion Plague does not take effect).
Of course. It’s always the pretty ones that get you.
He kept at it. Blood Sense made them easy to find, but he could only reach two more. The rest were tucked away deep in the walls.
H: 76 | V: 91 | TM: 9%
He followed the passage on the right into another small room. Same layout. Same pile of bodies. This one had a passage leading back toward the main chamber and another in the far wall. One torch burned on his left.
He managed to catch and drain five, resisting two more diseases.
H: 81 | V: 96 | TM: 4%
He headed into the next room. More bodies. More rats. Only one way out this time, the passage back to the main chamber.
He stopped again, looking at the bodies.
System, do they look like they’ve been looted? If they came in here to clear the dungeon, they should have armor and weapons.
:: System: Affirmative. Explorers would enter a dungeon with a variety of equipment.
Wonderful. Something else to watch out for.
He looked around for the rats. The room was crawling with them.
Literally.
He caught four, pushing his vitae up.
H: 85 | V: 100 | TM: 0%
System, can I self heal for just seven points?
:: System: Affirmative.
:: Skill [Self-Heal]: Activated (Active, cost: 7 vitae)
H: 92 | V: 93 | TM: 7%
He caught two more that were out in the open, then waited for one shy little fellow poking its nose out of a crack in the wall. It wandered out and he snatched it up, draining it before it squeaked.
H: 95 | V: 96 | TM: 4%
This is disgusting. I wish I had another horse.
Harry stopped mid-step and sank to his knees.
No. Do NOT get too comfortable with this.
Harry stayed like that, hunched in on himself. He wasn’t sure how long. Trying not to think about anything. Finally, he pushed himself shakily to his feet and wiped his eyes.
This is stupid. I know vampires shouldn’t cry.
He worked his way back into the main chamber, avoiding the Shamblers. To his left sat one more sarcophagus and the archway with the stairs leading down. To his right were three more, the farthest the now-empty one.
Across from him stood four additional sarcophagi and three more open passages.
He considered hunting a few more rats but decided to put it off.
Maybe later.
He headed toward the stairwell leading up. As he passed the nearest sarcophagus he’d gotten sloppy, a step too close. He heard movement inside and broke into a run, reaching the stairs and dropping his mace to grab his spear.
He turned, spear raised.
Quiet. No movement. No undead horror coming to rip out his throat. Again.
That’s right. Stay in your box if you know what’s good for you.
He picked up his mace, returned it to his belt, grabbed Cedric’s spear as well, and walked slowly up the steps. He felt drained and listless.
I’ll give a report and sit for a bit. Talking with real people again will help.
Near the top, voices reached him. Angry. Arguing.
***
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