Mages

[WP] "You idiots!" said the mage. "If you want to kill a dungeon you don't go about it by wondering deeper into it's belly until you get to the bottom. That's suicidal. You have to rupture it from the outside and invade. Don't play by its rules. Use explosives liberally."

*****

There was an old guy and a young guy. No guess for whom the majority of the party (“hot women,” the recruitment notice had printed conspicuously) listens to.

Damian Fuseheart was a suave warrior, with an immaculately kept beard and a thinning head that he carefully combed over each morning. Though he was a golden child—golden hair and eyes—not everything went perfectly for him. In some way, the gods above could be fair, and rather cruel.

The old man—Udel—trudged along, muttering under his breath for the whole trip. His outfit was one of ragged grey and bits of brown that indicated some sort of unhygienic practices. Long white hair, somehow pristine, flowed down to his back, and a beard followed.

“Does he ever stop complaining?” one woman with red hair and a bosom that strained against the paladin armour. Damian forgot her name.

“No worries, sweetheart,” Damian flashed a signature smile, causing a chorus of cooing and oohing. “He’s just along for the ride. I have you girls—what can go wrong?”

The girls fawned over Damian, while Udel stifled a scoff.

“To the Dungeon,” Udel said. “Everything can go wrong.”

“Alright, alright,” Damian brought the party to a stop with a firm gesture, gauntlets glistening in the sunlight. “I have just about enough of you, old man. Stop your complaining at once!”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Udel said. “I was reciting a protection spell. Hear any birds, or ambushing bandits?”

“Pretty sure the point of ambushing bandits are that they jump out at you.”

Have we been attacked? When was the last time you had this smooth of a journey?”

Damian didn’t like to admit it, but it was true. He’s had the days to spend countless minutes trying to remember the names of his adventuring party, but it was to no avail.

“Fine,” Damian dismissed the wizard. “But stop grumbling about the dungeon!”

“The Dungeon,” Udel repeated, with a slightly different intonation that almost placed reverence onto the name.

“I… God, are you senile, old man? It’s just a dungeon. You just go in it, and come out, and voilà. Loot.”

“For most dungeons, maybe. But this Dungeon has been my greatest foe for the better part of a century. Proceed at your own peril, and this dungeon shall belch out your fully clean bones.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

“It can be that bad,” Udel huffed. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

“I’m Shirley,” a girl in a green hoodie drawn up on her head whispered, hiding a shock of brown hair underneath.

“Don’t go about it by wandering deeper into its belly until you get to the bottom. That’s suicidal,” Udel said. “We have to rupture it from the outside and invade. Don’t play by its rules. Use explosives liberally.”

“You are a jokester and a fraud, old man,” Damian said. “If you didn’t insist on coming, I would have left you by the side of the road a long time ago.”

“Why would you not trust me?” the wizard moaned. “I have fought this foe for decades. You are stumbling into something you have no idea about.”

“Shoo, old man,” Damian laughed. “Get away from here. Go take a bath in the river.”

The frankly unoriginal joke elicited a chorus of laughs from the girl. The group continued forward, and the wizard followed.

“Get away, before we get to the dungeon,” Damian said, annoyed. “You—”

“Look up ahead,” Udel pointed.

A cavernous mouth stood in the middle of the path. Stalagmites and stalactites rimmed around the entrance. It resembled teeth, and was about as uninviting a sight as the party has experienced. There was a sense of unease that drifted into the air, and Damian swore that it was moving closer. Closer. Ever closer.

The paladin vomited on the side of the road.

“You know what,” Damian said. “Good luck! You guys have fun!”

With cries of protest ringing out, the golden guy ran away from the scene, leaving the rest of the party behind.

“We should run,” the archer said.

“Too late, Shirley,” the wizard said grimly. “Any dig spells? Patience, do you have Move Earth in your spellbook today?”

“I—” the druid opened her mouth in surprise, her flowery cape fluttering in the wind. “Yes. Yes, I do!”

“Alright, Carina,” the wizard pointed at the paladin. “Get everything in your guyt out. If not, your guts would be on the line.”

The paladin nodded profusely. Udel lifted his staff towards the Dungoen, approaching ever closer.

“Can you tank for a bit? While Patience finishes her spell?

“Yes,” she said, with a steely resolve that was a half-turn from her sycophantic tendencies.

Udel nodded, turning to the archer, who had already begun loosing arrow after arrow. The wizard nodded.

“Will we die?” Shirley asked.

“Highly possible,” Udel said, channelling an Explosion spell in his staff. “Or we will die trying.”

*****

THE END.

I've been suffering from an acute shoulder pain. Pretty sure it has something to do with my sleeping position, or that I'm spending too much time on my laptop, or just some posture or ergonomic issue. Either way, I need a massage, and I can't get one 😭