We traveled out to the dungeon as a party or warriors, although my childhood friend Lucius seemed somewhat the worse for ware. Too much drink perhaps. I felt a certain sense of trepidation as we set off. Although the castle was a safe place to grow up, my childhood had been spent in the shadow of this dungeon. So many stories of past heroes and treasure hunters that never returned, and now I set out. Now my turn has come.
I try to put on a brave face and remember my training. I have journeyed far since leaving Falconberg, and experienced much, and yet there is something unsettling about this dungeon. The others seem unconcerned. Do they feel the same as I? Are they just pretending this is another orc lair or bandit gang to be hunted? I sometimes feel like a child playing at hero when I think of where we are going…
If they share my fear they show no sign of it. The Sorceress Triana and her man Alain are the consummate professionals-seasoned and trained to perfection. Will I be worthy to stand by them, with my self taught skills and parlour tricks? We shall see. The Prince is his usual foul mouthed self and Lucius is in good spirits as ever. A mixture of bravado and stubborn tenacity despite his apparent illness.
We engaged in several minor skirmishes on the way to the dungeon. I was glad of these-as the thrill of combat let me shake off some of my nerves. ‘Devils Kiss’ felt good in my hands and I was at least able to be of some use to my friends.
The fire in my heart was soon dampened somewhat however , by the sight of that dismal place-and the discovery of our own graves, freshly dug. Lucius spat into his-much to he and Ratharshek’s amusement. I would not dare anger the gods in such a way (good or otherwise) but I was secretly glad of this act of levity. Lucius may be full of himself, but his acts of defiance hearten me in some strange way. Maybe we can win where so many others have failed?