Dungeons Are Bad Business

The sun was shining, and Wheeler was feeling good. He adjusted his red-and-black pinstripe shirt, fixed his cuffs so that his hands were completely visible, gave his blonde mustache a twirl and grinned as the short [Dungeon Master] climbed the steps in front of Crestheart.

“Adventurers, welcome back!” The [Dungeon Master] cried. His voice was thin and a bit on the reedy side, and Wheeler almost burst out laughing at the sound. This guy? A [Dungeon Master]? If people believed that, Wheeler himself should start going around and calling himself a [King]. It was just as believable.

The kid locked eyes with Wheeler, and for moment the hair on the back of the [Cardsharp]’s neck stood on end. He was good at reading people. Had to be, in his line of work. There was no greater joy than looking into someone’s eyes and getting their complete measure before they ever had a chance to say a word.

Something clouded the boy’s hazel eyes. There was a spark in them that was a little bit like madness, but not quite. Wheeler had dealt with his fair share of madness, had seen men and women at the tables lose their minds when Lady Luck didn’t flip the dice or turn the cards their way. That wasn’t what he saw in the [Dungeon Master]’s gaze. But it was close. It flickered and faded, and Wheeler wondered if he’d ever seen it at all.

“I most sincerely apologize once again for our recent troubles,” the [Dungeon Master] said, “but we’ve fixed the problem and are ready for you to challenge these dungeon halls! Step forward and show your skill and bravery! Oh, also, leave your entrance fees in that chest next to the door. Remember, the floor fee is ten silver fleurs, and the boss floor costs fifteen. Thirty five silver fleurs lets you challenge the entirety of Crestheart! Good luck, and bold adventuring!”

With his speech done, the little blue-haired punk bowed. He’d probably meant to look stylish and mysterious, but he went just a little too low and his stupid top hat fell onto the ground. Wheeler guffawed with a few of the other adventurers. What an idiot! What a shrimp!

Now, Wheeler was absolutely a betting man, but even if he hadn’t been, he would have bet every last fleur that he had that this was going to be the easiest dungeon run of his life. He was strong and talented, but that wasn’t always enough when it came to running dungeons. The only thing you could trust was cold, hard, information. As such, he’d paid for an edge.

He was not a man for gods or religion*, but there was a universal truth that he believed in with all of his heart: Never – ever! – play a fair game.

Crumpled in his pocket was his secret weapon: an unofficial, unauthorized guide to Crestheart. The guild technically frowned on this sort of thing, but Wheeler hadn’t ever heard of anyone ever getting busted for making, selling, or buying one and they existed for almost every dungeon on the continent. So far as he was concerned, that meant that it was totally on the up and up. Nothing wrong with using his resources, right?

Wheeler had gotten his guide from one of the adventurers who’d cleared the dungeon, and it had cost him eight silver fleurs. Not a bad price, considering that it was going to help him make roughly a hundred or so. He’d read the thing dozens of times, memorizing the notes about each room, the minions they contained, and the traps that he’d be facing. To be honest, he’d been a little disappointed by the quality of the dungeon. Only two real floors, and nothing but ghosts and lesser fire elementals between them? How could such a crappy place even be considered a dungeon?

He clambered to the top of the steps and let his coins jingle down into the treasure chest. Easiest fleurs of my life. Adventuring and running dungeons wasn’t something he did full-time, but it was a nice side hustle when he couldn’t take the smoky rooms of card dens anymore, and this dungeon was rumored to be soft as could be. All the factors had lined up perfectly to entice Wheeler to go ahead and make a run. He’d walk in, make a clean sixty or seventy silvers and take a week off. Get away from The Don’s boys and Sacre’s crew for a little while. That was all he needed. A break.

The guide mentioned a talking door, but there was no sound as the entrance swung open and Wheeler walked inside. Probably just didn’t have anyone doing the voices. Rookies!

Reaching into the pocket of his vest, Wheeler took out his deck of cards and drew one off the top. Holding it between his index and middle finger, the [Cardsharp] prepared himself to throw it at the first worthless ghost to appear as he walked down the long hallway leading to the first room.

It was cold inside the dungeon, and Wheeler shivered. The door slammed shut behind him, and fog hissed up from the ground. It was cold and wet, and something about the way it clung to his skin caused Wheeler’s heart to start racing. Just some atmospheric crap. Don’t lose focus.

Spitting on the ground, Wheeler gripped his card tighter and continued forward.

When he made it about halfway down the hall, the torches that lined the walls all went out at once and Wheeler was standing alone in the dark.

“What the?”

The darkness didn’t last long, because the torches sparked back to life, but this time instead of the normal, comforting amber gold of every fire he’d ever seen, these flames were purple. The entire hallway was bathed in sickly, almost skeletal light, and Wheeler found that his breath was coming a little faster than he liked.

Another step forward, another flash of the lights. So that’s how it was going to be, huh? Fine. He’d dealt with strobe effects before and they didn’t bother him much.

However, flashing lights weren’t the only threat of the hallway.

Behind him, something inhuman started laughing – really it as more of a rabid cackle – and then the hallway was filled with the echo of running footsteps. Fast, heavy footsteps.

“YOU HAVE MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE, ADVENTURER!”

The voice was right behind him! But how? Spinning, Wheeler found himself face to face with a towering figure draped in a black robe that obscured its face. It had glowing red eyes of hellfire though and that was enough to tell the adventurer everything he needed to know. With a shout and a leap backwards, Wheeler flicked his wrist and threw his first card. It whizzed through the air and buried itself in the ground, having passed right through the monster’s body.

More inhuman laughter.

“A GRAVE MISTAKE INDEED! WELCOME TO CRESTHEART! THE DOOR IS LOCKED, AND THE ONLY WAY OUT IS FORWARD. GOOD LUCK!”

With that, the monster vanished into the ceiling, and Wheeler was forced to contend with something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

*Other than Lady Luck

“Okay, fine,” Vee said as he watched the man stumble forward with another card primed and ready to throw. “I’ll admit it. You’re much better on the voices than I am.”

“Than you could ever be,” Reginald said with a grin. “Say it properly.”

Vee sighed. There were worse things than having to deal with Reginald when the hat knew he was right, but he couldn’t think of any just then. “You’re much better on the voices than I could ever be. There, you happy?”

“You have no idea, I’m just getting warmed up,” Reginald said as he reached his yellow spirit arm over to the magnifying crystal. “Just you wait and see. Do you see his bald spot?”

Wheeler made it through the first hallway and found himself in a small room that was barely bigger than a closet. The size seemed wrong, but that wasn’t a big deal. Guides were always kind of off since they were made from memory. When I reach the center, there are supposed to be a few packs of ghosts that will attack me. Easy enough.

He walked to the center of the room and waited. No ghosts. Looking up and down, he didn’t see anything that would indicate that any were coming either. That was…weird. Normally the guides weren’t off that much.

At the far end of the room was a pedestal, and on it were two glowing orbs. One was red, and the other was blue. Wheeler walked over to it and reached for the red orb, but stopped as a gout of flame came out of the pedestal, leaving a ghastly face above its embers.

“Red or Blue? The choice is yours. Who knows what lies behind these halls and doors? Both paths will have dangers, that much is true, but the blue path has treasures too. It is said that quick is the path of red, but those who follow it may even lose their head. Whatever shall you do?”

What the heck kind of choice was that? One had treasure, the other didn’t. Without even a second thought, Wheeler grabbed the blue orb and slammed it into the space in the pedestal’s center. Blue lines of energy flowed out and down the pedestal’s sides into the ground. Once they disappeared, the walls started to groan, sliding and shifting like a deck of cards being shuffled. The torches changed color once again, the purple replaced by icy blue and there was a hiss as even more fog poured up from the ground.

Wheeler took a step forward and slipped, falling straight on his back. When he tried to stand, he found that alternating tiles of the floor had been coated in a thin layer of ice.

“This was definitely not in the guide,” he muttered as he zigged and zagged his way into the next room. “There’s not supposed to be anything other than an ever changing number of ghosts. One room with some flying books, but no one mentioned tiles of ice or talking embers.”

Reginald held out his yellow hand and wiggled his fingers expectantly. Vee handed him a cube of highly refined ectoplasm and the spirit popped it into his mouth, smacking lips that didn’t exist. Originally intended as a thank you gift for Do and the rest of the heavy section for all their hard work on getting Crestheart ready for runs, it was the most potent ectoplasm Vee could refine, and Reginald coughed as he swallowed it. Or absorbed it, or whatever it was that spirits did to consume and digest ectoplasm. He’d barely passed his class on spirit anatomy.

“Told you,” The [Majordomo] said. “Guys like that are obsessed with treasure. Easiest bet of my life.”

Wheeler fought his first group of enemies as soon as he entered the next room. They were ghosts, just as claimed in the flyer, but they all carried lesser fire elementals in their mouths that shot embers directly at him. He hadn’t been expecting that, since the notes were clear that the elementals weren’t supposed to appear until the second floor, and suffered several burns before he dispatched his foes with his razor sharp cards.

He took the paper out of his paper and tore it up. “Think you’re going to scam me?” he snarled. “Once I get out of here I’m going to make you pay!”

The pieces of paper scattered as he looked at the three shadowy cells in front of him. There was only a single torch in each one, but their poor light was enough for him to see that all of them had a treasure chest inside.

However, he wouldn’t be able to plunder all three; there was a sign above them that said CHOOSE WISELY. The implication was clear: once he looted one, the other two cells would close and be inaccessible. Stingy [Dungeon Master].

It wasn’t like he had any clues to use to help him pick the best one either. So far as he could tell, it was just pick a chest at random and hope for the best. Choose wisely his butt.

Stupid problems required stupid solutions.“Eenie, meenie, miny, mo,” Wheeler said as he pointed at each cell in turn and worked his way through the rest of the children’s rhyme. When he finished, he was pointing at the middle cell, so that’s the one he picked.

He walked in and opened the treasure chest. Inside was a lovely pendant made out of gold, and the [Cardsharp] whistled through his teeth as he hung it around his neck. It had to be worth a good chunk of silver fleurs.

To his surprise, the door of his cell clanged shut, and the ceiling shifted. There was a plop on the ground next to him, and a hiss filled the air. Soon there were more plops and more hissing to go with them, and Wheeler felt something settle itself on his leg. It was hot and he kicked his leg like crazy, trying to dislodge whatever it was. However, the creature slowly clambered up past his knee to his thigh, and then to his waist and chest, leaving an angry trail of burns as it did so. More started to make the same journey, and no matter how he stomped or cut the little monsters, nothing seemed to deter them.

If this went on, he’d be burned alive and that was very much not a fate he wanted for himself. He had to get out of the cell. Now.

Yowling, Wheeler reached into his vest, drew out one of his special cards – unlike the normal gray of his deck, these had a blue back and crackled with energy - and hurled it through the gaps in the cell door as he focused on himself. “[Shuffle Swap]!”

The skill activated, and Wheeler was teleported out of the cell next to his card, which burned away as all of its stored power had been used. That was fine. He could always make more special cards later.

Wheeler looked at his side, and saw the tiny slime that was the cause of his pain. Or, one of the causes of his pain, as there were at least two others on him as well. Using another card from his deck like a dough scraper, he peeled the minion off his flesh and flung it back into the cell to join its kin. The other two followed it, and then Wheeler continued deeper into the dungeon’s depths, cursing his bad luck.

Up ahead was another hallway, and at its end was a long set of stairs that had to lead to the second floor. The [Cardsharp] warily made his way to it, fighting off the few ghosts that popped out of the walls and clawed him as he did so. They ripped into his shoulders and his back, and while the wounds were far from serious, they were annoying and painful.

“[Scattershot]!” Wheeler yelled as he threw three cards at once, grinning savagely as they sliced through the feeble bodies of the ghosts and turned them into dust. Step. Dodge. Throw. Step. Dodge. Throw. Step. Dodge. Throw. So long as he kept focused on the chessboard-like pattern of icy and not icy in order to keep his balance, there wasn’t much to think about.

The rhythm carried him down the stairs and to the next door. “Just one more floor and then the boss battle,” Wheeler said, trying to reassure himself. The lights and the fog and the chill was getting to him. Doubts were starting to creep into his mind. I’m doing well, all things considered. I’ve taken some hits, but so far there hasn’t been anything too challenging. If anything really scary pops up, I have my secret weapon.

Not the dungeon guide, which he’d originally thought of as his secret weapon when he entered but had since thrown away. My real secret weapon.

Okay, admittedly, maybe calling so many things a secret weapon wasn’t really the best plan. Fine. I have my secret skill. There, much better.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Wheeler opened the door and entered the second floor. Where he promptly fell on the ground thanks to the fact that the ice-covered tiles were misaligned and out of sequence.

Then, the whispers started.

“Alright,” Vee said as he settled into his big chair and put his hands up to his controls. “He’s not looking so good, but let’s see if we can soften him up some more before he gets to Alforde. I’d love him to get an easy win on his first fight back. Really boost his confidence, you know?”

Reginald, who was busy activating and deactivating a dozen magnification crystals to properly throw his voice around as he menacingly whispered ever more specific threats to the adventurer didn’t respond.

“I’ma getchu,” Reginald hissed with a bit of the [Dungeon Service Representative]’s twang. “You chose…poorly. I’m going to rip that mustache off your face hair by hair. You don’t need it, anyways. Who even has a mustache anymore? It’s not like it stops anyone from noticing that your hairline is gone. Gooooone.”

The hat seemed to be having a good time. Vee watched as the man got up and started limping forward. Good. Minor injuries meant easy boss battles. But, Vee wasn’t going to let up on the pressure. Oh no. Not at all.

With a grin of his own, Vee reached down and punched the button labeled “Big Ghost”. Then, it was time for another bit of [Walking Walls].

Clasping a hand to the back of his head, cards momentarily forgotten, Wheeler watched the walls of the dungeon shift once more. They slid and groaned until there was nothing but a long, narrow hallway. At the end was a wide open room.

More fog came up from the ground and when it cleared, a hulking frame was standing in the center of the room. It wore a ragged robe and carried a terrifying scythe.

It was also facing away from him, and Wheeler saw that at the end of the room was the door that had to lead to the boss battle. So long as he snuck past this big baddie he could avoid having to fight before throwing down with the boss.

A whisper tickled his ear. “Hey, got a minute? Let’s see what this handy hourglass says! Well, look at that, all the sand is almost gone!”

And then, horror! A hand grabbed Wheeler’s shoulder, another grabbed each of his legs, and every second that passed added more and more until he had no chance of moving. He looked down, and saw that the hands were coming out of the walls and floor.

What the hell kind of place is this? He thought as the hands pulled him down to the ground. As if alerted to the sound of Wheeler’s whimpering, the big ghost turned around and raised his scythe.

“Remember that bit of the poem earlier about maybe losing your head on the red path?” the whisper voice asked. “Turns out the same could have been about the blue path too. Bad luck, huh?”

A warmth covered the [Cardsharp]’s thigh, but it had nothing to do with the burns from the slimes earlier.

“Alforde, get ready! We’re going to go ahead and bring him down to you, okay?”

“Understood. I’m ready to fight.”

Vee leaned back and watched as the hidden panel he’d ordered the heavy section to build into the floor flipped over and pressed the button that would release the ghost hands. The adventurer fell down to Alforde’s arena, and there was a clinking sound as the man’s necklace fell off and landed on the edge of the platform.

The [Dungeon Master] leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. His job for the run was done. Now it was up to Alforde. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

He gave Reginald a thumbs up. “Good job with those whispers. I think you really got into his head.”

“Sure did. So what are you thinking here? Four to two, four to three?”

Vee looked down and saw the man scrabbling to his feet. He looked unsteady and he kept glancing up, as if he expected the hulking scythe bearing ghost from up above to drop down on him any second. Little did he know that the monstrosity had been nothing but an ectoplasm puppet. Oh well. No one ever said that dungeons were a fair contest.

Well, okay, the union did and so did a bunch of the celebrity [Dungeon Masters], but Vee hadn’t.

He’d lost almost two weeks’ worth of income, and he was hellbent on earning it all back.

“Four to zero. No way this guy knocks Alforde off the platform even once.”

Wheeler had two twisted ankles and a knee that felt like it was moving in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Being dropped from the ceiling like that had been the most dangerous part of the dungeon so far, strictly speaking. If things went bad, someone could really get hurt with a hazard like that. Why had he wanted to do this again? From where he was standing now, dealing with the criminals was a walk in the park compared to running dungeons.

The [Dungeon Champion] stood in the center of the platform, holding his hammer with one hand and looking rested and relaxed.

“Welcome to my arena,” he said. “You must be pretty impressive if you’ve made it here. The treasure that you seek is right behind me, but I’m afraid that you’re going to have to defeat me if you want to get it. The rules are simple. Have you fought a [Dungeon Champion] before?”

“I have,” Wheeler said, and the armorsoul sagged in relief.

“Great. I hate explaining everything about the SSB. Here you go. I’m Alforde, nice to meet you. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

He tossed the small pill through the air and Wheeler caught it, wincing at the wave of pain that traveled across his burns as he did so. Popping it into his mouth, the [Cardsharp] shuddered at the alien sensation and then fanned out his cards. With a growl he threw them all at the [Dungeon Champion] as hard as he could.

“[Fifty-Two Pickup!]”

There weren’t fifty two of them, but no one ever counted, and the number didn’t really matter. As they flew toward his foe, Wheeler’s cards started spinning until they all formed small tornadoes. A single one of them was strong enough to lift a grown man off his feet if he didn’t expect it, so there had to be more than enough to push the [Dungeon Champion] off the edge of the platform.

Alforde spun his hammer once and slammed the head down into the platform before the first tornados reached him. “[Give No Ground].” His armor flashed gold.

The first tornados reached him but they stopped dead upon contact with Alforde’s armor. Wheeler was stunned. He hadn’t been expecting to win the bout off just that skill, but no movement at all? Not even a single stock?

He was in trouble, then. The cutting edge of his cards wasn’t going to do much against an armored foe. They were delicate tools for delicate work, and this type of battle wasn’t where they excelled.

It’d have to be brute force then. Wheeler knew that he didn’t have the raw strength to push Alforde by himself, but that was fine. He didn’t need to do much more than throw a card.

Reaching into his vest, Wheeler drew out the rest of his special cards. He’d have to find - or make - some way to get a hand on Alforde, then throw the card out of the ring and use [Shuffle Swap] to teleport the [Dungeon Champion] out of the ring. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t think that the armorsoul could be particularly fast, given his size and the fact that he carried such a heavy weapon. However, injured like he was, Wheeler would have to use his secret skill to give himself more time to reach Alforde without being attacked. He closed his eyes.

“[Three-Card Monty!]”

Two of his special cards left his hand and floated in the air. They grew until they were as tall as he was, and then settled on the ground next to him. Wheeler himself felt his body flattening as he temporarily transformed into a card. Then the two blank cards sandwiched him and rose up into the air. There was some crackling and a flash, and when the light faded, there were three Wheelers standing on the platform.

Well, not really three Wheelers. More like one Wheeler and two convincing clones that were half as strong as he was. They all had their own decks, and any one of them could use [Shuffle Swap]. One hand on the champion and that was a stock gone.

“Time to play a game,” three voices chanted in unison. “Can you guess which one of me is the real one?”

Alforde pointed at the leftmost Wheeler. “Is it that one? The left?”

“It’s a rhetorical question,” the [Cardsharps] cried as they charged. Thanks to the powers of the SSB, they didn’t really feel the pain of their injuries, but they were definitely moving slower than they normally would have been. Using the secret skill had been the right decision.

Despite the advantage conferred by their numbers, none of them managed to touch Alforde. Somehow, the [Dungeon Champion] always managed to sidestep them at the last second. His hammer thrummed through the air as he deterred further aggression and the Wheeler clones only just barely managed to avoid getting splattered by the blows. The SSB only protected the real one.

For the moment, they were at an impasse. Standing a safe distance away from one another, the foes watched each other. Alforde seemed to be lost in thought.

“This is unfortunate,” he finally said. “I was hoping that my first opponent today would be a bit more of a challenge, but I’m afraid that you’re too slow for me. Even with your clones, there’s no doubt about how this fight will end. I’m sorry, but I’m going to go ahead and start knocking you out of the arena now, okay?”

He didn’t give the Wheelers a chance to answer, because, like, what was there to be said?

“[Unstoppable Charge]!”

The next thing Wheeler knew he was alone once more as the armorsoul blurred past him over and over, obliterating both of his clones with powerful blows of his hammer.

That took the fight right out of him. He didn’t want to do this anymore. Falling to his knees, Wheeler dropped his cards and held up his hands in surrender.

“I yield, “ he said. So much for easy money.

To his surprise, Alforde slid to a stop right away and walked over to him with gauntlet extended. The [Dungeon Champion] helped the [Cardsharp] to his feet.

“No shame in that. Well fought. Just over there is a staircase that will take you back to the street outside. Do you need any help climbing back up? No? Okay, well, thanks for challenging Crestheart! I hope to see you again some time for a rematch!”

Wheeler walked out of the dungeon and back into the sunlight of the street. He stumbled down to where the other adventurers were waiting to start their run, and saw their horrified expressions as they saw his face and clothes.

“If any of you bought the guide for this place, throw it away,” he said as he stumbled past. “What’s inside is nothing like what it was supposed to be.”

Picking up a broken piece of wood from the pile of garbage near the dungeon to use like a walking stick, the [Cardsharp] started limping back to town. He was headed to the adventurer’s guild.

If there was one other thing he believed in, it was this: never be afraid to ask for a refund. Just then, eight silver fleurs sounded pretty good.

At least the day hadn’t been a total waste. He put his free hand up to his chest. True, he hadn’t gotten the final treasure, but he had looted the—

His fingers found nothing but tatters of his shirt. The necklace was gone! Those stupid ghost hands!

Alforde pondered the pendant in his hand. How had it gotten down to the arena?

“Vee?” He called to the ceiling. “What should I do with this necklace? I think it belonged to that last guy. Should we return it to him?”

“No can do. Union and guild rules are clear on this. Adventurers forfeit their rights to any loot they leave in the dungeon after their run. Tough luck for him, but good luck for us! Talk about a sweet payday! Pure profit! Nice job getting him to surrender, by the way! You were awesome. That [Unstoppable Charge] skill is pretty sweet.”

“Thanks,” the armorsoul said as he opened the door in his chest and put the pendant inside for safe keeping. He felt good about the fight too. Hopefully the next adventurer would be a bit more of a challenge.

Main Cast Character Sheets:

Vee Vales:

Primary Class: Ghost Maestro (Locksmagister University), Level 21

Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar’s Crest), Level 8

Tertiary Class: Guy-Who-Takes-Things-WAY-Too-Far (Self), Level 2

Might: 8

Wit: 28

Faith: 16

Adventurousness: 7

Ambition: 7

Plotting: 10 (+1)

Charisma: 3

Devious Mind: 12

Leadership: 9

Guts: 3

Intimidating Presence: 4

Citizenship: 4

Alforde Armorsoul:

Primary Class: Hammer Afficionado (Self), Level 16 (+2)

Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 10

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar’s Crest), Level 9 (+1)

Additional Class: Clunker (Vee Vales), Level 5

Might: 28

Wit: 10

Faith: 24

Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 6

Endurance: 9

Intimidating Presence: 8

Heart of a Champion: 2

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 1

Vigilance: 1

Reginald:

Primary Class: Core Spirit (Unknown), Level ???

Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 32

Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 5

Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 1 (+1)

Might: 1

Wit: 26 (+1)

Faith: 3

Ambition: 23

Greed: 18

Deceptiveness: 32

E$@$: $%

[-------------------------]

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 1

BONUS: Wheeler's Character Sheet

Wheeler Josey

Primary Class: Cardsharp (Self), Level 22

Secondary Class: Gambler (Self), Level 18

Might: 23

Wit: 17

Faith: 1

Deceptiveness: 19

Greed: 25

Devious Mind: 5