II
So when I last left off, I think I was in a tavern, regaling a youthful adventuring party with tales of my own younger days. This was, of course, in exchange for all the ale I could drink, and I'm not sure if they thought it was a good deal or not, given that I was trying with all my might to discourage them from taking off on their hare-brained endeavor.
"And exactly what did you and the elf druidess do while you were lost in the woods all day?" demanded the thief. He seemed to suspect me of holding out some of the juicier details of my experiences. And he was right.
"What do you normally do when you're lost?" I replied. "We tried to find our way out. In any event, we found the camp later that night, and by the next morning..."
***
Morning came way too early, as mornings have a tendency to do, as I was brutally ripped from a sound slumber by the rattle of pots and pans and the excited chatter of my companions. Of them all, only Lilywinter seemed reserved and quiet -- even the taciturn Fennaeos was grinning broadly, and actually discussing what he planned to do with his share of the plunder. The priest, as oblivious as ever, still apparently thought that this was a serious and reverent expedition to recover a holy relic, while the fighters, Tannus and Svignar strapped on their armor and weapons, talking excitedly among themselves and ignoring the rest of us.
They wore the usual fighter rig, with Svig in fluted, gold-chased dwarven armor, and Tannus in a heavy breastplate and metal-reinforced leather for his arms and legs. Svig had his signature weapon, a huge dwarven waraxe that was literally a work of art, inscribed with elaborate dwarven runes and scrollwork, while Tannus relied on what I took to be an enchanted longsword, due to its runic inscriptions and the reverent way that he handled it.
The rest of the party was tricked out in manners appropriate to their roles. Vendra was very sexy in studded leather armor, with what I recognized as a number of protective amulets and rings that enhanced her protection. Her hair was bound up, and she carried a rapier and short bow -- not much against dragons or daemons, but enough for what she normally did. Fennaeos was the worst armored of the bunch, wearing only his robes and some magical protections like Vendra. But then I didn't expect him to get into combat, and he needed to be limber if he was going to be casting a lot of combat spells.
Lilywinter was as radiant and beautiful as I remembered, but she was still aloof and looked troubled. She wore a quilted surcoat that probably provided about as much protection as a piece of parchment, but she seemed comfortable with it. She carried a sickle and a couple of spears, but her role wasn't combat -- it was marshaling the forces of nature to our aid.
Everyone seemed aware of the dangers we faced. Scrad the goblin was unarmored, but he looked as if he could run like a son of a bitch. Even the somewhat timid Beldrin wore a chain shirt and carried a shield, but no weapons were immediately evident.
As for myself, I was as prepared as I would ever be. My short sword bore some enchantments that would help it cleave armor, and my leather armor had likewise been blessed at the Temple of Phaedra. I'd saved my coppers for months in order to afford a pair of magical bracelets that would supposedly increase my protection from harm, but so far I hadn't had a chance to try them out. I carried my throwing daggers in bandoliers across my chest, and I had a nice bag of scrolls with magical spells pre-inscribed on them. I wasn't telling anyone about those, but they would come in handy if needed.
We had the usual assortment of potions and other miscellanea among us, with the expected coils of rope, lanterns, flasks of oil and the like... It's all standard these days, but back then I think there was more of an art to equipping a party. Today, it's all written in books and pre-selected at the shops... Gods, in those days dungeoneering was a real challenge. Today, it's just like some kind of card game...
***
"Can you please get on with the story?" the thief demanded irritably, motioning for a refill of his ale. "You can meander down memory lane some other time."
"Sorry," I said. "Forgive an old man his foibles."
"It's all right, grandfather," the cleric said, kindly. "Continue with your tale."
Grandfather? Gods, what have I come to?
I cleared my throat and continued.
***
I didn't say much myself, accepting meat and scrambled quail eggs from Scrad and wolfing it down as the rest of the party made haste to the dungeon entrance.
It was as I'd seen it the night before -- though in the light of day it was far grander, and in some ways, even more ominous. For a structure that had stood for centuries, it seemed entirely untouched by the passage of time. A semicircular platform extended from the opening in the hillside, atop three shallow steps. It was crafted of polished, white-veined black marble. Six graceful columns were spaced evenly around it, these were of pale porphyry, supporting a dome of grey marble and lapis.
"This has been here all these years and no one's noticed it?" I muttered as I trudged toward the platform alongside Vendra.
"I think it's been noticed on numerous occasions," she replied. "It's just that those who noticed it never made it back to their homes to talk about it."
There was a certain tightness to her voice and a distance to her expression, as if she was talking to a casual acquaintance, rather than someone she had delightedly fellated to orgasm just a few days previously, but I put it down to tension and ignored it.
The Platform led to a craggy opening in the mountain, a mere five paces deep, ending at a brass-bound portal. Beldrin and Fennaeos were inspecting it closely, though I noted that they were careful not to actually touch it. I winced inwardly -- for all their caution, they apparently hadn't checked for pressure plates on the floor outside the door, a trap that I'd seen several times already.
"How's it looking, gentlemen?" Tannus asked, looking vaguely impatient. I had to admit that he cut a fine figure in his gleaming steel armor, while beside him Svignar was every bit the grim dwarfish warrior.
"Many magical wards," Fennaeos said. "It will take some time to neutralize them, but I think I can do it. These ware moderate-level spells intended to discourage casual intruders. I suspect that the real challenge lies inside."
Beldrin gestured at a series of runes scribed into the door's brass bindings.
"These are letters in the infernal alphabet," he said. "Proof that this structure was built by the powers of darkness."
As if we need any,
I thought to myself.
"There are likely to be mechanical defenses as well," Fennaeos said. "Once I've dispelled the wards, we might have the rogue inspect the portal as well."
He said "rogue" as if he was saying "bloated, scabrous tick," but I let it go. I got that sort of thing all the time.
I went back to the main platform to let the wizard do whatever it was that wizards do, and found Lilywinter seated on the polished marble steps. Her gaze was fixed on the green hills and forests beyond the portico, and resolutely away from the ominous entrance behind us.
I wasn't entirely certain that approaching her was the best thing, but since Vendra had seemed distant, and I wasn't sure whether I even liked my other companions, I tentatively sat down a safe distance from the druidess and looked over at her.
"How are you?" I asked, quietly.
