Izzy’s hand rested on the green door’s doorknob, “All ready?” The group voiced their readiness and she opened the door. As expected, the black shimmering magic curtain was all they could see. Izzy started to step through.
“Wait!” Called out Valgrin, “Not saying they did this, but establishing a pattern then messing with it once adventurers get comfortable, or had time to get comfortable, was a common tactic of mine. Malcolm employed it some, but not as often. I’d still do finger, hand, then walk through, just to be safe.” It’d be like this place to do something like that.
“Good point,” Izzy nodded, neither her finger or hand uncovered any issues so he walked in. Closely followed by the rest of the group. Malcolm bringing up the rear.
As soon as he stepped through a dim light clicked on, showing a empty ten by ten room.
“I am the Narrator.” A slightly monotone voice echoed through the empty chamber. “Relax and enjoy as I get to do my job.”
“Narrator?” Valgrin asked the air.
“Yes?”
“Just wanting to make sure I understood you,” Valgrin stated.
“And now the Narrator says…wait I wasn’t supposed to read that.” The disembodied voice coughed once and continued. “You enter the room, which is a room, and it is definitely inside the dungeon because the walls are made of stone like dungeon walls usually are. The stones are gray, except some are darker gray, and a few might be brown but it’s hard to tell because the light is bad. The light comes from torches that are on the walls, placed there by someone at some point in the past, probably on purpose.
“The room is sort of square, though not a good square, more like a square that got tired of being measured. The floor is flat mostly, except where it isn’t, and there are cracks that look old but not old enough to be impressive. Dust is on the floor, showing that nothing has been here recently, unless it was very careful about not leaving footprints, which seems unlikely.
“In the middle of the room there is something like a table, but it might also be an altar or just a table that wants to be important. It is made of stone and has stains on it that are dark and unpleasant in a non-specific way. Near the table-altar-thing are pieces of something broken, maybe pottery, maybe bones, or maybe just rocks pretending to be interesting.
“There are doors leading out of the room, at least two, possibly more if you count the one you came in through, which you probably should. One door looks sturdier than the others, as if it expects trouble, while another one looks like it might open if pushed, or fall over, or both. The air smells damp and old, like water that has been thinking about being mold for a long time.
Nothing attacks you immediately, which almost makes the room worse.”
Things showed up in the room as the Narrator described them.
“Uh…thanks?” Izzy answered the Narrator.
Malcolm walked over to the table-alter. “Looks like a table that was quickly converted to an alter. Lot of wax and maybe blood stains near this blank open book.”
The Narrator’s voice filled the air, again. “The table and the stone circle in the floor it is on, rotates ninety degrees. No reason is known.” The table followed the directions and turned. “The gray stone wall with no doors begins to click. A grinding noise starts from behind the wall. Then the wall sinks into the dusty floor revealing seventeen goblins dressed in mismatched armor, that doesn’t fit well either. They attack.”
True to the Narrator's word, the horde of goblins erupted with blood-curdling shrieks that echoed off the stone walls as they charged toward the table. Valgrin's hands thrust out, sending razor-sharp Ice Daggers whistling through the air. Five goblins dropped instantly, their bodies skewered and frozen mid-scream. Izzy's bowstring sang three deadly notes, each arrow finding a throat or eye socket with devastating precision. Malcolm crouched low, sai blades glinting in the torchlight, muscles coiled like springs. Ylnah thrust her palms forward with a guttural incantation, and the air itself detonated around two more goblins, shredding their mismatched armor and flinging bloody chunks against the wall. The remaining seven converged on Malcolm in a frenzy of rusted blades and yellowed teeth. One goblin's wild swing missed completely, burying its jagged sword into its comrade's skull with a sickening crack. Malcolm exploded into motion, his sai blades slicing through tendons and puncturing organs with surgical precision. Three more goblins collapsed in sprays of dark blood. Panic seized the final three survivors, who shrieked commands at each other and scrambled back toward their entrance. Valgrin's eyes narrowed with cold fury as he launched three final Ice Shards that struck with such force they pinned the fleeing creatures to the far wall, their limbs still twitching as life drained from their bulging eyes.
“Bad narration, or at least badly written, wonder if this is some sort of copy of a last minute dungeon.” Malcolm pulled at his collar, straightening it up. “At least this room.”
Soon as Malcolm stopped talking the wall reappeared, this time with a door.
The almost monotone of the Narrator once again sounded in the room. “Dang, missed the timing on that. I’ll read what I have anyway. The wall which had disappeared without warning, reappeared without warning too. A door now appearing in the middle of the wall. The door looked weathered and gray. How the weather got to it here, isn’t known. The doors on the two side walls disappear with a popping sound.” As he finished the sentence a pop reverberated in the room, and the doors mentioned disappeared.
Malcolm's boots crunched over goblin bones as he crossed the room, Izzy's light footsteps following close behind. The newly materialized door loomed before them, its weathered surface marred by deep scratches that resembled claw marks. Malcolm's fingers hovered over the tarnished brass orb of a doorknob.
“Do you want to check for traps?” The Narrator asked.
Malcolm’s hand froze, “Yeah, I’ll check for traps.”
“There are none, so you don’t find any.” The Narrator answered.
Rolling his eyes, Malcolm sighed, “I’m so glad you had me check for them then.”
“You’re welcome.”
Valgrin stifled a laugh behind his hand as he stopped next to Malcolm, Ylnah and Skwilly had walked with Valgrin to join the others.
“I’m going to open the door, now.” Malcolm’s irritation still coloring his words.
“You walk into,” The Narrator paused until they all walked into the new room. “The room is ten by ten, which means it is square and not very large, though large enough to be a room and not a hallway or a closet, unless someone had a very ambitious closet. The wall to your right is completely taken up by drawers. There are a lot of drawers. Possibly too many. They are all the same size, which makes it difficult to tell them apart, and they are all made of oak, which is a nice wood and clearly chosen on purpose. The drawers are polished and shiny, so shiny that you might notice your reflection, but not clearly enough to trust it.
“On the wall to the left there is a table, and it is pushed up against the wall like it doesn’t want to be in the middle of the room. It is centered on the wall, though the wall itself might not be perfectly straight. The table is also oak, and also polished and shiny, which suggests someone had a lot of polish and felt strongly about using it.
“On top of the table is a black metal box. The box looks heavy, but this is misleading, because if you try to lift it you will discover that it is heavier than you thought it was, which raises questions about what you thought heavy meant in the first place. The lid of the box has a keyhole in it, but there is no key in the box, or on the table, or anywhere obvious. The key is in one of the drawers. Which drawer is not clear. One wonders if it will ever be found, or if it is still wondering where it put itself.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Sounds like a little snark has worked it’s way into the description.” Ylnah observed.
Izzy looked over her shoulder, “Malcolm here wasn’t very nice to it.”
“Please, I was as nice as it deserved.” Malcolm defended himself, “If we split up the duties we should be able to get through the drawers quicker.”
“That is an excellent idea. One that would save you a lot of time.” The Narrator paused, “Except the rules state only one person can open the drawers. If anyone else opens a drawer, then the key will reset and could be in any of the drawers. Even the ones that had be opened and checked.”
“That rule didn’t get mentioned until now,” Malcolm complained. The Narrator remained silent.
“I can go through the drawers. I mean there’s only six hundred of them.” Ylnah stepped up to the wall of drawers and pointed as she spoke. “Either three sections with ten columns and twenty rows each, or one huge thirty column and twenty rows. Hopefully I’ll find it sooner rather than later.”
She reached up and slid the first one open.
“Drawer one has been opened.” The Narrator intoned.
Ylnah pulled it down so she could look at it. It was lined in red velvet and there was no key in it.
“Drawer one is empty.” The Narrator informed the group, even though Ylnah had already shown it to them.
She reached for the next one in the row.
“Drawer two has been opened.”
Ylnah stood on her tip toes to see in, and to feel around, the interior of the drawer.
“Drawer two is empty.”
Ylnah went to the next one.
“Drawer three has been opened.”
“Drawer three is empty.”
Ylnah kept going to the next one, then the next one. The Narrator repeated the same lines over and over again, the only change in what he said was the number. There was a slight change in the drawers, the second row was lined with purple velvet. She blew a strand of hair from her face and reached for another drawer her voice in sync with the Narrator. “Drawer number forty-two has been opened.” She looked at the purple velvet and sighed. “Drawer number forty-two is empty.”
She discovered that the thirty column rows alternated velvet colors, red, purple, and green. Then they looped back to red.
Ninety minutes later the Narrator said, “Drawer five hundred ninety-eight has been opened.” Without any hesitation he went right into, “Drawer five hundred ninety-eight is empty.”
Valgrin perked up, “I guess he’s just as tired of this as we are. He lasted much longer than I would have.”
“Drawer five hundred ninety-nine has been opened. Drawer five hundred ninety-nine is empty.”
“If the key isn’t in this next one, I vote setting fire to this place.” Izzy ran her hands through her hair.
Ylnah opened the last drawer, a small black metal skeleton key lay on top of the purple velvet.
“Drawer six hundred is not empty.” The Narrator finished his count down.
“Figures it would be the last one. What are the odds?” Malcolm commented.
“The odds were one hundred percent the key would be found in whatever drawer was the six hundredth opened. That would be six hundredth unique one that was opened.” The Narrator informed Malcolm and the others.
“No matter where I started, and whatever pattern I used, I’d not have found it until the last one?” Ylnah hissed between clenched teeth.
“That is the way this wall of drawers was designed.” The Narrator explained in a voice that actually sounded a little more normal. “The key won’t appear until five hundred and ninety-nine different drawers have been opened. At that time the only drawer that hasn’t been opened will have the key transported from where ever it is kept at.”
Izzy took Ylnah by the hand, “Grab the key and lets see what this madness leads to.”
Ylnah snatched the key out of the drawer, stumbling as Izzy pulled her over to the safe on the table. the key clicked when she put it into the keyhole. She turned it, adding a little more force when it first refused to budge. It turned, another click sounded from deep within. She opened up the lid and a palm sized bottle lay against black velvet. Inside the iridescent cut crystal glass was a deep forest green liquid. Izzy gasped when she saw it.
“Is that…” Izzy stopped mid-question as she continued to gaze on the bottle.
The Narrator’s voice came out more of a whisper than previously, “It is a Potion of Whatever.”
“Oh my.” Izzy stood staring, her eyes never left the bottle. “Is that bottle as fragile as it looks, if so why use that for such a valuable potion?”
“It is nearly indestructible,” the Narrator answered Izzy. “It only looks to be fragile. The glass is made of some type of material that is almost as hardy as a diamond, but in it’s raw form it is quite mailable. Easy to work with. Which makes it the perfect vessel for such a potion.”
Malcolm cleared his throat for attention, “Excuse me, but what is this potion and why is it so valuable.”
“I always thought it was a myth, stuff of legends.” Izzy gushed, breathless as she explained further. “I’ve heard stories, but most people see them as just that, stories. If what I’ve been told about the Potion of Whatever is true, you have in front of you a potion that will cure whatever ails you. Including death. That potion, if you can get it into a person…just a mouthful and it doesn’t have to be swallowed, just works faster if you can. Will resurrect someone, heal all critical wounds, all broken bones, any poison, any disease. As I said, whatever ails you. One potion will restore one person to complete health. But only one person and only one time.”
The Narrator's voice carried a touch of excitement. "Your source for myths is accurate, for the most part. The Potion of Whatever will cure whatever is needed, again mostly." He cleared his throat. "There are a few mental attacks or conditions it can't…it doesn't exactly fix those, but can help. Even on those."
“Sounds like a good potion to have,” Malcolm commented. “We just get the one?”
Ylnah spoke up, “I can’t see much past the bottle, it does something with my ability to see the magic. All I can tell is it is some type of healing potion, I can’t get a read on the potency.”
“Those that survive this room will get one each. This one is the only one you’ll get until the room is completed successfully,” the Narrator informed the group.
Valgrin raised his hand and waved, “You sounded ominous there. Survive?”
The Narrator coughed once, “This is the final room. In a few minutes one of you will need to go and touch the far wall. The one you haven’t interacted with so far. There are no doors, but the wall will fade away once touched.”
“Seems to be a recurring theme, disappearing walls that is.” Ylnah couldn’t quite hide all of her sarcasm.
“It is. Adds suspense, don’t you think.” The Narrator showed no clue in catching her sarcasm. “On the other side of this gray stone wall that doesn’t have a door, for some reason, you’ll find six human-like creatures. Each one designed to counter a few of your groups attacks. We have some in this new set of advisories that are immune to cold, can block magic attacks, some are as fast or faster than Malcolm, at least one has a way to defend against arrows shot at them. Basically, a group to counter what you people have attacked with since being in this dungeon. As far as the number, it’s a fifty percent increase to your numbers. Your pet didn’t count in the totals.”
“Skwilly is not…ouch!” Valgrin stared down as the priggy’s hoof slammed into his foot.
“I’m not just a pet, I’m an emotional support animal. Started as Valgrin’s, but I’ve expanded to the others. Ylnah needs the support, Izzy needs some, Malcolm is a lost cause but I try.”
Malcolm glared at Skwilly for a second, then teased, “I love you too. Especially as a side of bacon.”
“And my point about being a lost cause is proven.”
“As I was saying there are six human-creatures awaiting you. The narration and wall of drawers were meant to slow you down so your opponents could be created. Which they are now. Each designed to counter something at least one of you have used. A limited list of abilities for one, or more, is as follows: immunity to cold, ability to block magic attacks, haste to make them as fast or faster than your fastest, arrow defense, along with other things. It is expected that not all of you will survive, if any.”
“Way to be redundantly repetitive,” Valgrin drawled. “More stalling I suspect.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” The Narrator answered, then his voice changed to the tinny voice they had heard in the aquarium room. “I’ve been with you from the beginning. However, I will not communicate with you after the wall drops, until one or more of you are successful. In case of a TPK, I won’t be talking to any of you in the future.”
Ylnah looked to Valgrin, “TPK?”
“Total party kill,” He answered. “Don’t know if the term is widely used here, but back on Earth it is.”
The Narrator interrupted, “Our time together, for now, is coming to an end. Please make your way to the wall we have been discussing and prepare to face the ones created for you.”
“And if we don’t go?” Valgrin asked.
“Then I will have no choice but to enter into refusal protocol,” The Narrator answered.
“Oooo, sounds scary.” Malcolm jeered, “What is that?”
“I will be forced to fill this room with poisonous gas until all of you succumb. Not successful, not the victory you, most likely, expect.”
“Fine,” Malcolm muttered. “We’re going.”
