The Knights of Spellforge Keep appeared at the winding path leading to the lake, just outside Poddleton. The dwindling sun shone down on them as Dartan felt an odd sense of nostalgia wash over him. He led the way down the stairs to the entrance. He peered inside. It looked very much the same… a dark tunnel. The same feeling came to him now as he looked into it: He didn’t know what lay beyond the darkness. He was eager to get at it.
Dartan grimly drew his sword. "This is it," he said. They all steeled themselves and walked inside.
The first trap in the original Gauntlet was a large husk of a spider that dropped from the ceiling… be alert.
“I remember that, Dartan said, almost wistfully. They walked forward. Almost immediately a large, hairy, multilegged form dropped down in front of him from above. Instead of thunking to a halt at the end of a rope, though, the thing landed on its feet and skittered towards them, hissing devilishly.
Dartan eagerly went to work, ducking a claw swipe and cutting it viciously across the abdomen. Kizzlorn hurled a fiery bolt that pierced its head, but the thing didn’t die. It scuttled forward and stabbed into her with a five foot needle-claw. She cried out, and Edge leaped forward, flurries of blows raining upon the thing’s face. Broldek stepped up from behind and buried his greatsword in its gut, while Myramus swung his brilliantly shining longsword through the thing’s thorax. It collapsed to the ground and began to smolder before bursting into flames, charring away to nothing.
“That wasn’t so hard,” Myramus said. “I expected being the chosen warrior of Pelor would be far more exciting.”
Menerous said “Easy, Spot. Sure, it’s not as challenging as fetching Pelor’s morning paper, but it’s something.”
“I… I never fetched anything.”
“Uh,” Broldek said. “Look. Skulls don’t normally do that, do they?” He was pointing to the corner, where a pile of bones lay in a heap. One was rising from the ground. It was a small skull… halfling, most likely. It floated above the ground at about three feet high and seemed to look at them. “Well done. I suppose I really shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve fared as well as you have, though.” Myramus was readying his sword to strike at the skull, but Dartan put a hand out to stay his attack. Dartan’s face was tightly set in a look of concentration. “You’ve grown in power since I’ve seen you last, haven’t you?”
Dartan opened his mouth. “…I… …Bree?” The skull stared back at him, and the others wondered what he was talking about.
Snooky twitched his fuzzy little ears and said Yes! Of course! Bree Thornberry! But why would…
The skull seemed to ponder this. “Bree? That… that sounds familiar. Was that my name? I cannot recall.”
“Yes, I’m sure of it now,” Dartan said. “But why would Bree be here? Bree didn’t die here, Bree died fighting Utreshimon the blue dragon. Bree is buried in the cemetery in Poddleton, beside Dekker Roughfoot.”
“Dekker… Dekker. Ah, yes, I remember him now. Somewhat. I don’t remember much else. All I know is that I awoke here, with some measure of knowledge of this place. Your name. It’s… Dart. Dark-man. Dartan?”
“Dartan, that’s me… we were friends in life.”
”Were we? Do you mind if I accompany you? It certainly would bring back old memories.”
Myramus leaned toward Dartan and whispered. “We should destroy it. Undeath is no way to exist under the Shining One’s rays.”
“Well, we’re in a cave, so we’re not under your cruel god’s ‘rays’, now, are we?” Dartan snapped at him. “She stays.”
“It would be a kindness,” Menerous said. “Besides, if she was buried in Poddleton, Crow had to dig her up to put her here, which means she serves some dread purpose… if it’s really her at all.”
“She stays.” Dartan set his jaw firmly and walked ahead. The skull looked at the Maximus brothers for a moment, then followed him, floating along.
“I do not like this, brother,” Myramus said.
“Nor do I.” They followed.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Bree said. “You’ll need a full set of keys in order to release Gorgoldand. You’ll find the first one underneath that stone there.” Her skull pointed with its jaw toward a rock in the corner. “The others you can pick up on the way.” Dartan found the key and placed it in a belt pouch.
Once again, the passageway narrowed, forcing travel in single file. Dangling from the cavern overhead was a thin rope, ending in a loose lasso on the ground. The legend “PUT FUT HEER” was scrawled in chalk in the middle of the open lasso. Obviously, this was someone’s childish idea of a snare.
“I remember this,” Dartan said, almost fondly.
Yes, Snooky agreed. It was designed to capture naïve adventurers by taking their attention off the real trap… in this case, a pit trap five feet beyond the rope. Snooky pointed with a paw, and they all saw the pit trap’s cut lines in the floor. Tenchi Foxfingers solved this one quickly.
“How deadly was the pit trap?” Myramus asked.
Menerous laughed and squeezed by them in the thin corridor- no small feat for a man as portly as he was. “Brother, the only way this could be deadly for you were if those words on the floor read ‘DANGER, FALLING ROCKS’. Come!” He grunted and jumped over the square in the ground that marked the pit trap.
“Now, I hardly think that was app-“ Myramus cut himself off when he saw his brother land at the other side of the pit- and pass through the ground as if it weren’t there. With a yelp, Menerous was now out of sight. Myramus cried out. “BROTHER!”
Menerous tumbled into the ground, past the illusion of rock. He saw here, dimly, blackness beneath him, where he was plummeting toward. He smiled and tried to turn himself into his true form. Myramus had returned as a hound archon, and resembled a canine walking on two legs… but what the others didn’t know yet was that Menerous’ other form was a ball of light that could look human when he wished. He tried now to turn himself into it, and couldn’t. With alarm, his eyes opened wide, and he saw the immense beholder glaring at him with its one huge eye from a recess in the pit wall. Its eye drenched him in an antimagical cone, that negated his ability to turn into his light-form. He shrieked and plunged into the blackness below him. The beholder flew after him, continuing to bathe him in antimagic. As he left, one of the several eye-stalks that twisted and coiled about his head levitated a large stone disc into place, blocking the tunnel downward.
Myramus jumped into the pit blindly. He landed after a fifteen-foot fall, and looked about. “There’s just a space! Nothing… one of these walls must be false! He began using his enchanted sword to push the wall inward on all sides, looking for secret areas.
Edge and Kizzlorn joined him. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know, help me look!”
Straight below them, the beholder followed Menerous downward until the risen paladin crashed into a spherelike chamber some one hundred feet beneath his friends. He wasn’t badly hurt, even though he was a two hundred and fifty pound man who’d landed on rock after a fall of one hundred feet, fully armored from head to toe. He propped himself up on his elbows and coughed. Blood ran from one corner of his mouth. All around him, wraithlike ghost-things were emerging from the walls and moaning softly. One approached him and touched him. He cried out as his life drained from him, and the skin on his face tightened then let slack as it aged twenty years.
The other ghosts reached for him, and both above and below, each Maximus twin cried out for his brother.
MORE TO COME…