"I am sorry, but the Master of the Dungeon has barred you entry." Doorman's face is unusually stern as he passes on the messages relayed to him from the other side of his door. Around him, cries of annoyance ring out at the announcement.
"What!? You can't do that! Dungeons are supposed to be open!"
Doorman stares down at the boy who'd spoken. "How old are you? Who's even the oldest one in your party?"
The brown-haired boy wielding a shortsword and a small wooden shield stutters uncomfortably. "Uh...Elyss here's 27, you know?"
Doorman's gaze swings towards the girl mentioned. "You? You're Elyss? You're an elf." The girl nods shyly, clutching her discount-store wand. "That's like, flippin' 14 by human standards. Are you nuts!? This is officially an adults-only dungeon! No teenagers allowed!"
A young red-haired girl leaning on a staff that looks like she carved it herself just yesterday yells back at the door. "Hey, fuck you! Lots of Champions start out as teenagers! And we're going to slay the Dragonlord one day, so we need to learn how to fight!"
Doorman gasps. "What!? Language, young lady! And that's teenage Champions in stories, the real ones usually just die, you know. Where are your parents, do they know about this?"
The elf girl answers quietly. "All our parents died, in...various unrelated tragedies."
"Ah, sheesh, all of you? Well, doesn't matter, you'd still die. The Master of the Dungeon would like to tell you that you should be ashamed of yourselves, for attempting to burden them with the trauma of murdering children."
The final party member, a young gnoll boy with a shortbow, raises a point. "They could just not kill us, perhaps, maybe?"
Instead of answering with words, Doorman opens his mouth as widely as possible, shocking the youngsters as a skull suddenly falls out and rolls across the stone walkway. It's an artificial skull, although made of real (dungeon-made) elf bone and shaped in the form of a male elf skull. "You see that? That's the leader of the party who just came in here before you. He was an elf so he was probably at least twenty years older than any of you, probably more. He had real armor and everything."
The group looks genuinely shaken at this, though the first boy's still not quite ready to give in. "Y-you still can't just not let us in! You're a riddle door! You've gotta give us a chance to answer a question!"
Doorman rolls his eyes. "Fine. When filing taxes on self-generated income, how many chickens are you allowed to own before you're qualified as a business and not as a hobbyist farmer?"
This time the redhead shouts out. "What!? That's not a riddle at all!"
"It's a riddle for adults. Now, are you going to answer, or are you going to go home?"
The gnoll is the first to hazard a guess. "...Is it twenty, perhaps?"
Doorman stares at him. "Nope. You lose. No second chances. Bye-bye." The group begins to complain, but he quickly cuts them off. "You want in, you gotta break me down. Or you can try again in five years. Better yet, make it ten." Seeing that they have nothing at hand that could knock down a door his size, the teenagers grumble and complain some more, but finally begin to make their way back down the mountain.
Leaning against Doorman on the other side, Xenia sighs in relief. "Goddamn fucking heroic teenagers. Seriously, where do the brats keep coming from..."
Later that night Commander Paulados is interrupted in his work by his chief of staff, an elf named Harnriel who is twenty years his senior, but quite a few ranks his subordinate by military reckoning. Giving a quick salute, the elf proceeds with his report. "We've received notice that Association's agent will arrive tomorrow. Their construction and support staff will be here the day after."
Paulados nods. "Good. Including our shipment of supplies I hope, our own expansion plans can't proceed much further without them. Before you go, though, what's the word from that first Challengers party that left this morning? I know they don't report to us, but if they're not drinking and boasting already, I might send out that Tafyaf to chat them up. I'm sure being the first 'official' clear has them in high spirits."
Harnriel shifts a bit awkwardly. "Actually, about that, sir. I was about to mention, our eastern approach patrol just came in with a number of...young adventurers in tow, teenagers. Apparently they snuck up the mountain but were caught on the way back down."
The commander's eyes go wide. "They actually got in? Damn teens. How many didn't make it?"
"That's the interesting part, or, one of them anyhow. Apparently the dungeon refused to let them in. Said it was an adults-only dungeon, and tested them on...tax forms?"
At that, the soldier gives out a laugh. "Nice! Well, there's a reasonable dungeon for you! Any other one I can think of would've taken the kids as free snacks. Surprisingly decent of it."
"Yes, well, there's another reason they were convinced to leave. Apparently the dungeon showed them an elf's skull, and claimed it was the leader of the party that left this morning."
Once again, the commander's mood shifts on the spot. "...Harnriel. Has the Challengers party returned yet?"
The elf shakes his head. "No sir. I even had someone check at the General to be sure, and the guard patrol reports they never came back down."
Paulados becomes lost in thought. "...They left at first light this morning, and the light's fading now. It's only a couple hours each way, a two floor dungeon...even at three...no. They should have been back hours ago. ...It would appear then that the entire party was lost?"
The chief of staff nods. "That would be my assumption as well, sir. Survivors can sometimes be trapped in a dungeon for some days, but that's usually a matter of dungeons with at least...well, five floors at the absolute minimum, but usually ten or more."
Paulados sighs. "Is this dungeon a softy or a hardass? Well, not our concern for now, but we'll need to make sure the Association is aware of this tomorrow..."
When Harnriel announces the agent's arrival the next morning, it doesn't do much to improve the commander's sour mood. "Sir, Challengers Association Field Agent Alizz has arrived, and she requests a meeting with you."
"Alizz? That would be a drider name, wouldn't it?"
The man nods. "It is, and she is, sir."
Paulados sighs. "Rubbing their vaunted neutrality in our faces as always, of course. Probably put a Valleylander in charge just to try and rub us the wrong way. At least it's not a draconic, I suppose."
At that, the elf smirks. "No, but her second in command is a kobold."
The officer rolls his eyes. "Of course they are. Well, no matter, we can play nice. Send her in, then."
By time the agent arrives, Paulados has already gone the effort to move some chairs out of the way to make room for her. There's nowhere for her to sit, of course, but given drider-sized sofas are a rare thing in the Rainlands, it would surely be something she's used to. Sure enough, as the woman carefully makes her way through the office door one leg at a time, she seems pleased enough simply to find enough space to stand in. The commander finds himself surprised a bit by her bookish-appearing nature, her traveling garb could perhaps be that of a low-ranking Mage, but her glasses, simple pulled-back hairstyle and scribe's hat make her look more like an accountant than the high-level Challenger she surely is.
As she enters, the drider begins with the introductions. "Hello, Commander. I am Field Agent Alizz, here on behalf of the Challengers Association. Given that the village seems to lack much in the way of a town government, it seemed to me that you were the man to talk to, in regards to getting the lay of the place and ensuring there's no issues with the establishment of our temporary camp."
Paulados shakes her hand, doing an excellent job of hiding his distaste for dealing with driders. "Thank you for the consideration, and you would be correct. Grassbrook is poorly equipped for what's coming its way - my own garrison has doubled in size in recent days, with men camping out in tents until we can get new barracks made, and I predict more will be arriving soon."
The woman nods in agreement. "I did do a short pass through town, and it seems as if we'll be essentially starting from scratch. The partial inn barely has room for two parties, and the multi-faith chapel is only just large enough for the local residents. And not a single special-purpose item shop! No magical crafters...I daresay over the next few months we'll be more than doubling the village's infrastructure, if not its population."
The commander raises an eyebrow. "All that on the Association's behalf? I expected an office and temporary residences, perhaps a crafting facility or two, but it sounds as if you plan to build an entire town of your own!"
Alizz grins at his expression. "Technically, the other establishments are independently operated, but we've done this sort of thing enough times now to have favored merchants, established contracts and so on. There may be other businesses who come of their own accord, but the Association has already made arrangements with many of the essential services Challengers require."
"Well, I have no head for business, but I'm sure the troops will appreciate having more places to spend their pay. How you use the land you've purchased from the Crown is up to you, of course, so how about we move on to the subject at hand - the dungeon. Worthy Dungeon, I should say."
The agent nods in agreement. "I understand a Challenger party came in a day or two before us. I didn't run into them this morning, did they have any news to report?"
Paulados grows serious. "No, nor do I expect them to. The party is missing and presumed dead."
Alizz's eyes grow wide. "...What? On last report, the dungeon hadn't yet finished a second floor. Is that still the case?"
"To the best of our knowledge, it is. My assumption though would be that the second floor is now complete and the party ran into something they weren't prepared for."
The agent looks out the office window, taking a moment to think. "...I've also heard that you've captured survivors of a Valleylander scouting party who presumably entered the dungeon. Is that correct?"
The information wasn't particularly secret, so the soldier isn't too surprised that a well-informed woman like Alizz is aware of it. "It is. We currently have a minotaur Ranger and a drider Mage locked up until we find a better use for them. We haven't been able to get much out of them so far, particularly in regards to the dungeon, though I suspect they had a bad time of it."
Alizz turns her gaze back to the commander. "If I may, Commander Paulados, I would very much like to speak to them. Perhaps there is something they know which we have so far missed..."
"I am sorry, but the Master of the Dungeon has barred you entry." Doorman's face is unusually stern as he passes on the messages relayed to him from the other side of his door. Around him, cries of annoyance ring out at the announcement.
"What!? You can't do that! Dungeons are supposed to be open!"
Doorman stares down at the boy who'd spoken. "How old are you? Who's even the oldest one in your party?"
The brown-haired boy wielding a shortsword and a small wooden shield stutters uncomfortably. "Uh...Elyss here's 27, you know?"
Doorman's gaze swings towards the girl mentioned. "You? You're Elyss? You're an elf." The girl nods shyly, clutching her discount-store wand. "That's like, flippin' 14 by human standards. Are you nuts!? This is officially an adults-only dungeon! No teenagers allowed!"
A young red-haired girl leaning on a staff that looks like she carved it herself just yesterday yells back at the door. "Hey, fuck you! Lots of Champions start out as teenagers! And we're going to slay the Dragonlord one day, so we need to learn how to fight!"
Doorman gasps. "What!? Language, young lady! And that's teenage Champions in stories, the real ones usually just die, you know. Where are your parents, do they know about this?"
The elf girl answers quietly. "All our parents died, in...various unrelated tragedies."
"Ah, sheesh, all of you? Well, doesn't matter, you'd still die. The Master of the Dungeon would like to tell you that you should be ashamed of yourselves, for attempting to burden them with the trauma of murdering children."
The final party member, a young gnoll boy with a shortbow, raises a point. "They could just not kill us, perhaps, maybe?"
Instead of answering with words, Doorman opens his mouth as widely as possible, shocking the youngsters as a skull suddenly falls out and rolls across the stone walkway. It's an artificial skull, although made of real (dungeon-made) elf bone and shaped in the form of a male elf skull. "You see that? That's the leader of the party who just came in here before you. He was an elf so he was probably at least twenty years older than any of you, probably more. He had real armor and everything."
The group looks genuinely shaken at this, though the first boy's still not quite ready to give in. "Y-you still can't just not let us in! You're a riddle door! You've gotta give us a chance to answer a question!"
Doorman rolls his eyes. "Fine. When filing taxes on self-generated income, how many chickens are you allowed to own before you're qualified as a business and not as a hobbyist farmer?"
This time the redhead shouts out. "What!? That's not a riddle at all!"
"It's a riddle for adults. Now, are you going to answer, or are you going to go home?"
The gnoll is the first to hazard a guess. "...Is it twenty, perhaps?"
Doorman stares at him. "Nope. You lose. No second chances. Bye-bye." The group begins to complain, but he quickly cuts them off. "You want in, you gotta break me down. Or you can try again in five years. Better yet, make it ten." Seeing that they have nothing at hand that could knock down a door his size, the teenagers grumble and complain some more, but finally begin to make their way back down the mountain.
Leaning against Doorman on the other side, Xenia sighs in relief. "Goddamn fucking heroic teenagers. Seriously, where do the brats keep coming from..."
Later that night Commander Paulados is interrupted in his work by his chief of staff, an elf named Harnriel who is twenty years his senior, but quite a few ranks his subordinate by military reckoning. Giving a quick salute, the elf proceeds with his report. "We've received notice that Association's agent will arrive tomorrow. Their construction and support staff will be here the day after."
Paulados nods. "Good. Including our shipment of supplies I hope, our own expansion plans can't proceed much further without them. Before you go, though, what's the word from that first Challengers party that left this morning? I know they don't report to us, but if they're not drinking and boasting already, I might send out that Tafyaf to chat them up. I'm sure being the first 'official' clear has them in high spirits."
Harnriel shifts a bit awkwardly. "Actually, about that, sir. I was about to mention, our eastern approach patrol just came in with a number of...young adventurers in tow, teenagers. Apparently they snuck up the mountain but were caught on the way back down."
The commander's eyes go wide. "They actually got in? Damn teens. How many didn't make it?"
"That's the interesting part, or, one of them anyhow. Apparently the dungeon refused to let them in. Said it was an adults-only dungeon, and tested them on...tax forms?"
At that, the soldier gives out a laugh. "Nice! Well, there's a reasonable dungeon for you! Any other one I can think of would've taken the kids as free snacks. Surprisingly decent of it."
"Yes, well, there's another reason they were convinced to leave. Apparently the dungeon showed them an elf's skull, and claimed it was the leader of the party that left this morning."
Once again, the commander's mood shifts on the spot. "...Harnriel. Has the Challengers party returned yet?"
The elf shakes his head. "No sir. I even had someone check at the General to be sure, and the guard patrol reports they never came back down."
Paulados becomes lost in thought. "...They left at first light this morning, and the light's fading now. It's only a couple hours each way, a two floor dungeon...even at three...no. They should have been back hours ago. ...It would appear then that the entire party was lost?"
The chief of staff nods. "That would be my assumption as well, sir. Survivors can sometimes be trapped in a dungeon for some days, but that's usually a matter of dungeons with at least...well, five floors at the absolute minimum, but usually ten or more."
Paulados sighs. "Is this dungeon a softy or a hardass? Well, not our concern for now, but we'll need to make sure the Association is aware of this tomorrow..."
When Harnriel announces the agent's arrival the next morning, it doesn't do much to improve the commander's sour mood. "Sir, Challengers Association Field Agent Alizz has arrived, and she requests a meeting with you."
"Alizz? That would be a drider name, wouldn't it?"
The man nods. "It is, and she is, sir."
Paulados sighs. "Rubbing their vaunted neutrality in our faces as always, of course. Probably put a Valleylander in charge just to try and rub us the wrong way. At least it's not a draconic, I suppose."
At that, the elf smirks. "No, but her second in command is a kobold."
The officer rolls his eyes. "Of course they are. Well, no matter, we can play nice. Send her in, then."
By time the agent arrives, Paulados has already gone the effort to move some chairs out of the way to make room for her. There's nowhere for her to sit, of course, but given drider-sized sofas are a rare thing in the Rainlands, it would surely be something she's used to. Sure enough, as the woman carefully makes her way through the office door one leg at a time, she seems pleased enough simply to find enough space to stand in. The commander finds himself surprised a bit by her bookish-appearing nature, her traveling garb could perhaps be that of a low-ranking Mage, but her glasses, simple pulled-back hairstyle and scribe's hat make her look more like an accountant than the high-level Challenger she surely is.
As she enters, the drider begins with the introductions. "Hello, Commander. I am Field Agent Alizz, here on behalf of the Challengers Association. Given that the village seems to lack much in the way of a town government, it seemed to me that you were the man to talk to, in regards to getting the lay of the place and ensuring there's no issues with the establishment of our temporary camp."
Paulados shakes her hand, doing an excellent job of hiding his distaste for dealing with driders. "Thank you for the consideration, and you would be correct. Grassbrook is poorly equipped for what's coming its way - my own garrison has doubled in size in recent days, with men camping out in tents until we can get new barracks made, and I predict more will be arriving soon."
The woman nods in agreement. "I did do a short pass through town, and it seems as if we'll be essentially starting from scratch. The partial inn barely has room for two parties, and the multi-faith chapel is only just large enough for the local residents. And not a single special-purpose item shop! No magical crafters...I daresay over the next few months we'll be more than doubling the village's infrastructure, if not its population."
The commander raises an eyebrow. "All that on the Association's behalf? I expected an office and temporary residences, perhaps a crafting facility or two, but it sounds as if you plan to build an entire town of your own!"
Alizz grins at his expression. "Technically, the other establishments are independently operated, but we've done this sort of thing enough times now to have favored merchants, established contracts and so on. There may be other businesses who come of their own accord, but the Association has already made arrangements with many of the essential services Challengers require."
"Well, I have no head for business, but I'm sure the troops will appreciate having more places to spend their pay. How you use the land you've purchased from the Crown is up to you, of course, so how about we move on to the subject at hand - the dungeon. Worthy Dungeon, I should say."
The agent nods in agreement. "I understand a Challenger party came in a day or two before us. I didn't run into them this morning, did they have any news to report?"
Paulados grows serious. "No, nor do I expect them to. The party is missing and presumed dead."
Alizz's eyes grow wide. "...What? On last report, the dungeon hadn't yet finished a second floor. Is that still the case?"
"To the best of our knowledge, it is. My assumption though would be that the second floor is now complete and the party ran into something they weren't prepared for."
The agent looks out the office window, taking a moment to think. "...I've also heard that you've captured survivors of a Valleylander scouting party who presumably entered the dungeon. Is that correct?"
The information wasn't particularly secret, so the soldier isn't too surprised that a well-informed woman like Alizz is aware of it. "It is. We currently have a minotaur Ranger and a drider Mage locked up until we find a better use for them. We haven't been able to get much out of them so far, particularly in regards to the dungeon, though I suspect they had a bad time of it."
Alizz turns her gaze back to the commander. "If I may, Commander Paulados, I would very much like to speak to them. Perhaps there is something they know which we have so far missed..."
