In Dungeons Deep

Adventure. Danger. Excitement. Great risk, great reward! Treasure and booty for the taking. Will you roll the die, or gamble your life on something greater? Challenge the dungeon. Challenge destiny.

It was all over the internet. Somewhere, somehow, someone had claimed to have made a dungeon, filled it with traps, treasure and monsters, and was opening it to the public to enter. The location was as yet unknown, but hints about the dungeon's arrival were popping up in random places, random ways all over social media that dedicated hunters made an effort to find them all.

Vlog careers had been born over the last few years since the clues came to light, eventually culminating in the discovery of a brief second of video clip where a poster appeared advertising the dungeon. Some poor hunter combed through who knew how many hours of Karens ranting in cars to spot a poster plastered to a building in the background.

Was it real? Hogarth didn't think so. He was a nerd, not delusional. But the fantasy, the speculation it drew, was interesting to watch. It wasn't so long ago that the world didn't care about dungeons, dragons, or magic that came without cursed scars and wands. Since tabletop roleplay had come into mainstream, the birth of this dungeon was possible.

At twenty-six, Hogarth's hold on dungeon adventuring had essentially slipped away. The few friends that remained since leaving school had lives far too busy for the hobby. Families, jobs, and higher education had picked away most if not all of his friend group. Such was the way of things. Every now and then they all met at a renaissance fair, families and new friends in tow, and some of them still met for drinks or to party up for an online game. For good ol' pen and paper, mini-figure quests across a tabletop, there was no one.

Streamers were a bitter substitute, but since the appearance of the mysterious dungeon Hogarth felt some of that spark rekindle. So while he didn't think it was real, it was a fun way to pretend for a while that there was still some magic hidden behind the mundane veil of reality.

***

"Hail, adventurer! Spare a moment for an opportunity?" The voice was masculine with a smoker's rasp, beckoning from beneath a hood that obscured most of the face of a lean man in long, tattered gray robes. Threads of wispy white hair fell at uneven lengths but were too insubstantial to conceal the withered and lined yellowed smile directed towards him.

Hogarth was busy walking to work, cutting through the small neighborhood that sat between his apartment complex and the shopping center where his destination lie. He'd thought the figure a Halloween decoration until it stood from a faded armchair and approached him. Hogarth stopped to look around awkwardly before turning his focus back on the old man in robes.

"Hey, sorry sir but I'm already headed to work." He started to walk again but in a blink the man was close, uncomfortably close.

"You grow weary of your trade, vagabond. You once sought greater things. When the disappointments of this realm compelled you to glories of the mind, your appetite was dulled but your soul was forced to fast. I offer you reprieve. Sustenance."

With that, the man slowly turned to point in the direction of the house. There were your typical decorations, of course. Fake cob-webbing, an inflated and glowing cartoon Frankenstein Monster, fake tombs and rattling animatronic skeletons. A trick or treat sign on the door. But to the side of the house was a simple arrow pointing to the gate to the back yard. A fake iron archway had been set in front of it and covered in cobwebs, and they'd hammered together what looked like enclosed walls for some kind of haunted house attraction. Though it was mid day, the tunnel effect it created was pretty dark and there were wisps of fog trickling out into the yard.

Hogarth was actually pretty impressed by the whole thing, despite the uncomfortably personal way the guy was pitching it. He really shouldn't, but after a glance at his phone to check his time, determined that he definitely shouldn't. "Look, it's cool and you're really selling me on the mystique, but I'd be late if I did it now and I'd rather come back later when I can enjoy it."

"A fair and sensible decision...but the dungeon is waiting, vagabond. It is a rare blessing or accursed circumstance that leads a soul to an opportunity such as this. To challenge my dungeon is to challenge the very fates of reality. Are you worthy to face a destiny impossible to write within the confines of the mundane path you tread?"

The yellowing smile bordered on a knowing smirk as the robed figure waited for his answer. He'd said all the right keys to set Hogarth's mind racing. Had he stumbled on the humble creator of the supposed dungeon? Was it simply a creative interpretation of what the dungeon might be if it were real by a dedicated fan? Was it just a hyped up haunted house this guy was overeager to get fresh reactions to?

Fuck it. It was a backyard. Whatever was going on back there, whether it was any way related to the dungeon he could at least walk away with a story and maybe some pictures to throw online for updoots. "Alright, alright you sold me. Let's go."

The slender man cackled gleefully as he strode briskly to the archway and presented it with a flourishing bow. "May your victories be thrilling, your defeats educational, your journey extraordinary."

"Uh, thanks man." The guy sure was overselling it. Hogarth must've been the first person to come along, he was all primed and ready with the theatrics. Still, as he approached the archway and gazed into the darkness beyond he couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement come alive in his spine. A look at the robed man only got him a glimpse of an encouraging smile as he stepped into the stranger's backyard.

The difference was immediate. He could feel change in the air, the sound it carried somehow...deeper. The entrance of the backyard haunted path was a short corridor that turned, presumably deeper into the actual yard. Given they were in the suburbs there was only so large a space, so he assumed the action started just out of sight. The walls were smooth and pebbly, like worn stone. Wood beams gave the hall a structured appearance, like a mine.

There wasn't much to it really, which struck him as a little wasteful but at the same time gave it a realism he appreciated. The clock was ticking however, so he settled into a brisk walk. Just around the corner the space was beginning to open up, and a light flickered. He was greeted by a similar length of corridor, albeit a longer one, with a ceiling that rose above him at around eight or nine feet. The light that bathed the interior was a sequence of iron wall sconces, cages of metal that held dancing flames within. Yellow light revealed a descending staircase at the end that somehow spiraled down deeper into the yard.

Surprised to see actual flames, he had the thought to turn back and voice his concerns over how many possible safety risks were at play only to discover that the entrance was gone. There was only a length of hall ending in a flat, featureless wall. Alarm bells rang as he marched up to the wall and gave it an exploratory push. It was like pushing against actual stone. He knocked his knuckles, then his fists against the walls around him. There was no give, no hollow behind the surface. The mist that had clung to his legs was bleeding away, receding deeper into the increasingly perplexing backyard that may not be a backyard.

Was this really the dungeon? Had a madman or a genius thwarted every safety code and found a way to install the most immersive haunted house ever known into the space of a simple suburban property?

Fishing out his phone, Hogarth tried calling work. No signal. He tried checking the internet, but there was no connection. He was completely blacked out. Part of him wanted to shout, to try and get someone's attention, but an instinct for quiet overruled it. Being too noisy felt wrong now. Instead he walked back down the hall, following the line of strange torches until he met the stairs. They rotated in a wide curve down deeper into the ground. If taking into consideration he was even with the sidewalk still, the stairs would send him directly underground.

Holy shit. It's the dungeon.

His mind ran through the myriad of theory vlogs and clue compilation videos as he slowly descended the steps leading to the next floor. Some said a crazy billionaire from the shadows was building a labyrinth, and was going to turn loose a bunch of mercenaries and rabid animals for random people to fight. Others claimed it would just end up being the most realistic LARP that was ever created, with the same millionaire backstory but less crazy. Everyone in the Dungeon community had different ideas of how realistic an actual dungeon would be, while some with legal backgrounds argued over how illegal pretty much anything too realistic or improperly licensed and zoned would be.

So far, Hogarth was appreciating how realistic the architecture was. While the entrance appeared to be cut from stone and braced with wooden beams, once he stepped into the stairway it was cut stone. There were no decorations or embellishments on the walls. It was just exactly how you imagined a castle interior might be as you descended into its bowels. The realism of it was enough to plant the seed of apprehension. Maybe this was in fact the doing of some rich person with a god complex that wanted to see who could survive.

Reaching the next floor proved to be interesting, to say the least. Rather than another stretch of hallway, Hogarth stepped out into a small chamber. The room was set with four walls, the one directly across from the landing bearing a thick wood and metal door with a heavy bar set across it. Set into a corner was a small iron stove, the faint orange glow of flames peeking from a grate that could be opened or closed. Not far away and set to the wall was a cot with a threadbare blanket and a pillow bristling with dry hay through the fabric. A bucket was set beside it, which upon inspection had a hard block of what looked to be soap inside. A larger barrel took up one corner, and from a crack in the ceiling water slowly but steadily dripped into an already half full basin. A wooden ladle was left hooked over the edge of the barrel.

Turning in place to study the wall behind him, he blinked, turned around again, slapped his hands against the evenly masoned stone wall. The stairs were gone. In their place was a wall bearing a few simple pegs, each bearing the weight of a few items. The first was a helmet made of leather, paired with a small targe shield dangling beneath it. The next held a belt with a few loops and an empty satchel, the strap just long enough it could loop onto one shoulder. The last bore a small bladder canteen with a cork stopper.

Hogarth sucked in a breath, feeling his heart race out of control. He couldn't think of a rational way something like this could be pulled off. It didn't make sense. Walls like these couldn't just sneak up and replace a stairway.

Anxiety started kindling into panic as he quickly moved to the only door left and heaved the wooden beam out of place. It was thick and heavy, and landed with a loud clatter against the stone floor as he struggled to pull open its hefty counterpart. Pulling slowly inward, the door groaned and gave way to...nothing. There was an empty space, then solid wall. It was as if someone had engineered the worlds most inefficient closet.

"No, no no no no..." Hogarth had never had a fear of enclosed spaces, but then again he'd never felt like he'd been buried alive before. Sealed into a space no bigger than a bedroom made of stone was close enough in his mind to send a spike of claustrophobic fear though his bowels.

He left the passage and rushed back to where the stairs had been, finding they still were not stairs but pounding his fists on it anyway. When that did absolutely nothing, he ran back to the door and pounded on the wall there instead. He gave it a kick too, which he regretted, but the outcome of course was the same. He was trapped in a stone box.

Rather than pounding on the walls, Hogarth shouted. His voice just seemed to resonate back at him, thick walls holding even his voice hostage. When no one answered him, he sat in defeat on the cot. Temporary defeat. As much as this seemed a cage, he had to believe there was more to it. If this was the dungeon, would it be literal? Dungeons were basically prisons, in reality. In fantasy however they were more like underground fortresses, mazes, escape rooms.

Slumping back against the wall, Hogarth waited until his pulse slowed and a degree of calm had returned. There had to be more to this. Looking around the room, he scrutinized everything much more carefully. The first thing he noticed was the stone above the door was fitted with a metal socket, like an oversized ring. The cage was empty. The wall bearing the door was fitted with two rows of shelves, but they were barren. When he searched around the bed, he found a mean looking club that had been reinforced with a metal cap at the end. He checked under the flimsy blanket, sifted through the pokey straw inside the pillow, but found nothing else.

On top of the stove however, he spotted a likely match for the door. A dull, egg shaped crystal sat on the center-point of the metal surface. Beside it was a smaller version fused to a slender length of silver chain. Taking it for a necklace, he studied it for a moment before slipping it over his head. When it settled into place, a glow like the spark of an ember took hold and lit the crystal from within. When he picked up the larger egg, he watched as a similar illumination took hold, the glow of a fire's flame kindling in the crystal's heart.

It was the most magical thing he had ever witnessed. Apart from disappearing stairs, anyways. He wasn't going to count that because it hadn't been visible. The lit crystal had no power source, no visible bulb within the translucent mineral. It simply lit, and he had no answers for that.

Crystal in hand, Hogarth took it to its obvious destination. Just to be sure, he pushed the door closed, put the bar into an easily grabbed position, then carefully pushed the gem against the cage until it socketed into place above the door. He wasn't sure, but thought he heard something hum, like hearing electricity running through an old building. It passed before he could focus for long, and when he slowly pulled open the door the thought was lost entirely when he saw what lie beyond.

Rather than a closet, a new corridor stretched out before him. Outside the door a metal torch billowed to light, a rod holstered onto the wall with a cage of now smoldering, fiery stones contained at the top. Beyond, other torches flickered and came to life. What they revealed was not as spartan as the halls that came before. Moldering paintings, rugs in various states of decay, and crumbling doors gave the world beyond his room an aged, decrepit character. Vermin lurked in the shadows, their beady eyes reflecting the new light invading their domain. While the torches helped, they did little to dispel the oppressive gloom. Despite the time of day, there was not a shred of natural light to be found beyond the door.

Hogarth shut it, then pulled the stone free from the socket. When he looked again, the closet had returned. He was relieved, but it was a bitter sensation. He could lock out the dungeon beyond the room, but there was no retreat beyond it. This was his only harbor, his island in the sea that was the dungeon. And holy fuck, was he definitely in the dungeon. The magic was real, the dungeon was real, all of it.

It was such a big feeling he didn't know what to make of it. It wasn't happiness, or sadness. Fear or dread, loss or excitement. Looking down at himself, Hogarth reflected on himself and the sensation running through him. He was dressed in his uniform, with his name in white letters printed across a black tag. He peeled off the tag, tugged loose his black necktie, and tossed them onto the cot. He plucked the helmet off the wall, then looped the belt around his waist. Next he slung the bag over his shoulders and settled it into the middle of his back before plucking the mace off the ground and dropping it into an open loop. Lastly, he lifted the shield off the peg and slipped it onto his left arm. Once he was adjusted to the weight and feel of everything settled on his frame, he considered how he must look and chuckled.

"Not much of a king, but hey, Burger Squire maybe." Hogarth laughed again, and it felt great. He felt great. He was terrified, and there was a slightly nauseous tug lurking in his guts, but he also felt...free. It didn't matter what he was wearing. It didn't matter how much money was in the bank, or if his bills were paid, or if his posts had gotten any likes. It didn't matter if Robby landed another promotion and was making six figures, or that his ex Susie was having kid number three with her doctor husband. It didn't matter if he missed the latest online trends or that he was incredibly late for work. Fuck it all, it was gone. He was gone. He had a dungeon ahead of him, and unless he was mistaken, he would have to start conquering it to stay alive.

For possibly the first time in a long time, Hogarth actually felt alive. He was ready to start living.

***

The door outside his room matched perfectly to the interior, but for an unusual exception. Rather than an egg sized gem, the crystal was of a size with his necklace. Standing close, the gem glowed in sync. Yet when he stood more than a handful of feet apart, the color shifted to a barely perceivable blue. Unsure what that meant, he decided to leave the door cracked open while he explored the two closest passages. Once he was confident about experimenting out here, he would see what more the door could tell him. Till then, he had a little exploring to do.

Evidently the hallway was part of a set of bedrooms. Fitting, considering his own was among them. He peeked into one room and found it unlit, with just enough light from the open door to reveal the shape of an unlit fireplace and a bed. The furniture was in shambles and unrecognizable in the darkness. Peeking into the other room revealed a near identical, with a small stove instead of a built in hearth. Nothing moved within either room, and the doors farther down the hall were closed.

Pulling the torch from the wall, Hogarth took a moment to examine the curious flames. Apart from the fact they were on fire, the rocks seemed unremarkable. He could feel the heat coming off of them, and the metal binding them to the end of the torch glowed with heat.

Targe in one hand and torch in the other, Hogarth probed into the first room to the left of his. The glow of the flame sent rodents and a few roaches darting out of sight, disappearing under what remained of the furniture. There had been a chest at the foot of the bed, but it seemed to have been broken open and plundered forever ago. All that remained was the bottom half of the container and rat turds. Underwhelming, but it set the bar for what to expect. There was a small dresser without any drawers, and after some looking realized they were probably already pulverized and littered around the room.

Walking back out into the hall returned the light to his section of it, and with it revealed the largest rat he had ever laid eyes on. It had come creeping towards the darkened end of the hall, only to rear up and spit a nasty hiss before darting back the way it came. He watched its whip-like tail snap as it took the passage to the right and vanish. It took all his resolve not to scream, either in fear or the fury that followed having been so startled. Instead he used his shielded arm to vehemently flip off the direction the rat had gone in.