The rest of his team had flown off on Scooter at first light, headed for their respective dungeons. Oliver walked down the street, heading towards the spire of the huge cathedral in the distance. He stopped at a vendor’s stall, buying a pair of pastry-wrapped breakfast sausage on a stick from the woman working the cart on wheels that didn’t appear to ever actually move. He smiled at the woman as he took his food with a, “Thanks.” As soon as she’d handed the snack over, the woman shifted back to her default stance, ignoring Oliver completely.

“Talk about Uncanny Valley,” Oliver grumbled as he moved on. He held the second sausage for Barton, who took the treat politely. “Hey, nice manners, bud.” Barton turned his head to look Oliver in the eyes while they walked, sausage gently held in his mouth, and slowly nodded his head.

Oliver promptly stopped, Barton and Trinket stopping a few steps later when they realized he wasn’t walking anymore. Barton looked at Oliver and cocked his head to the side, almost like he was asking why they stopped. Trinket just did its best impression of a puddle.

“Go ahead and eat your breakfast, bud, I can’t talk to you while you’re eating.”

Barton sat the sausage on a cobble and began to eat his breakfast delicately.

Oliver had to lean on his spear at the confirmation that his dog was now fully understanding what he said. Not only that, but the old Barton would have devoured a treat like that in two bites. Now, Barton was eating slowly, taking reasonably-sized bites. When he finished, Barton sat back and looked up at his owner.

“Barton, buddy, can you understand me?”

The dog looked around, a bit unsure.

“How about one bark for yes, two for no?”

Barton’s long-furred tail wagged excitedly and he gave out one, polite yip.

“Holy cow. Okay. Barton, do you like baths?”

Two yips and a decidedly less-excited looking dog.

“Just testing, bud, no baths right now. Do you want to go with me? Actually want to?”

One yip and a wagging tail.

“It’s dangerous.”

Barton stood up and gave a more forceful bark.

“Okay then, on we go.”

The trip only took Oliver about ten minutes, but he counted four identical copies of their inn on the way, which only unsettled him more. How had his party found their inn right away in this sea of identical copies? The short list of answers ate at him until he forced those thoughts aside. He had reached the church.

Never before had Oliver seen a building so grand. So majestic. So... awe-inspiring. So completely forgettable. The paradox of a building that should be a wonder of the world, but came off as a mere forgery was baffling. Shaking his head and sighing, Oliver followed the Ring’s instructions and walked through the open entrance.

Inside, soft music seemed to fill the space without actually coming from a source. He couldn’t even place what sort of instrument might be making it. A few real humans sat or knelt in the pews, trying to find some solace, but the cavernous space was largely empty. Oliver strode down the center aisle to the altar at the focal point of the building. It was vaguely religious without having any symbology from any human religion that Oliver knew of.

At the back of the raised dias hung a large tapestry woven through with a fractal pattern. Oliver found the edge of the heavy tapestry and slid behind it until he reached its center. There, he found, just as the ring promised, an alcove containing a simple wooden door.

The door opened smoothly and without protest, despite its worn wood and rusted metal parts. Torches lit the stairway at even intervals, leaving only the barest pools of shadow between islands of light.

Nothing assaulted Oliver on the trip down the long, winding staircase, but he did avoid a few steps from warnings by the ring about traps. At the bottom, he found himself in a crypt, with alcoves lining the sides of the room and a resting body lying in each.

Welcome to The Crypt.

Only one party may enter a Dungeon at a time. Dungeon rewards do not reset, and may only be collected once. Upon completion, your party will be transported back to the Dungeon entrance. If you wish to exit before completing the Dungeon, you must exit on your own.

Okay, you can probably guess what’s going to happen, the ring warned.

“Some of the dead are going to come climbing out of their beds?”

Yup, pretty straightforward. Two things. First, not all of ‘em will wake up, and some that don’t have goodies. I’ll point those out. Second, don’t throw your spear.

“You’ve been guiding my build around being a ranged fighter, now you want me to melee?”

Calm down, sassy-pants. This dungeon is easy-peasy, your dog could probably solo it at this point. What you need is some more practice. Attacking at range behind a tank is ideal, but the ideal rarely happens, so... melee practice.

The Ring actually made sense, so Oliver continued into the dungeon. It wasn’t long before a rustling like dry leaves rubbing together alerted him to danger. Four of the dead, two behind him and two in front, climbed out of their alcoves like college students after their fourth alarm. They shuffled towards him, silent except for the scrape of bones against each other as the cartilage had long since turned to dust.

Oliver considered for just a second before turning and attacking the two behind him. If these undead were anything like movies, the greatest threat was being swarmed. Better to make sure that the path behind him was clear than to push ahead.

A step and a thrust and his spear punched straight through the first undead. The dessicated husk kept pushing forward until Oliver jerked his spear to the side, ripping the corpse in half. For the second, he tried a sweeping motion, using the bladed edge of the spearhead to cut the undead’s head clean off. It clattered to the floor in a jumble of bones as soon as the head was severed.

Oliver looked down at the bones with a grunted, “Hmph.” He turned to the two undead still shuffling his way from further into the dungeon and smiled. “Let’s go to work,” he said to himself.

His spear was a bit large for the confined space, so Oliver spun it vertically instead of swinging it around to face his new opponents. He shifted his grip so that one hand was near the middle and the other was close to the spearhead, leaving half the shaft sticking out behind him. A step forward, and Oliver swiped up, cleaving the first undead’s arm off at the shoulder. He followed by sweeping the butt of the spear, using it to throw the undead into the wall where it collapsed in a heap. The last undead was now in range, so he completed the turn he’d started with the last move and jabbed the spearhead into the last target’s nose. The undead fell to the ground, its head still dangling from Oliver’s spear.

The Ring had been right, the undead were good practice. In the tight confines of The Crypt, it would have been difficult to throw his spear well, not counting the enemies constantly coming at him from both directions. He kept his modified grip on the spear, using it more like a short pole-arm, slashing with the spearhead as often as he jabbed.

The Crypt had a fairly straightforward layout. Each chamber was lined with alcoves filled with the dead and had one entrance and one exit. Oliver would enter the room far enough to trigger the undead, retreat to the entrance, and fight his way to the exit. Sometimes there were four enemies, sometimes two, sometimes six. None of them provided much challenge, but Oliver took the opportunity to train his close combat skills against novice enemies. On the sixth chamber, he decided to switch it up.

“Barton! Trinket! This one’s for you guys, have fun!” With that, he leaned against the doorway into the sixth chamber and crossed his arms with a smile. Barton looked back at him, cocked his head, looked at the green puddle that was currently Trinket, then looked to the dead lying in their alcoves. He looked back at Trinket and barked a command, which Trinket replied to with a very enthusiastic jiggle, then began sneaking around the perimeter of the room. Barton would sniff each alcove that he came to before stealthily moving on to the next. Oliver wondered if he was trying to determine which would rise as undead.

Eventually, Barton crossed the imaginary line that triggered the undead to rise, and he hightailed it back to the entrance of the room where Trinket was waiting. He activated both of his war cries, boosting the team’s strength and agility. Immediately, Trinket began to conjure shards of stone in the air over its jelly body, and Barton darted out and began to harry the undead. Barton didn’t go for big attacks or bites, he’d just flit around the room, nipping at the undead, turning them this way and that.

At first, Oliver couldn’t see what his dog was doing, and then it clicked. He was lining up targets for Trinket, who now had a half dozen rock shards ready to launch. Finally satisfied, Barton dashed back towards the entrance and gave a loud bark. On the bark, Trinket launched all six shards in a wave. Each shard found an undead waiting right in its path as they screamed forward.

Six thumps later, and Oliver watched all six undead fall to the ground in unison, pushed away from him and his companions by the force of Trinket’s rock shards.

“Dang. Nice work you two!” Oliver praised. “Barton, that was some solid strategizing, you’re pretty smart, buddy! And you,” he gestured at the slime. “Nice shooting, Trink! I’m seriously impressed, and I’ve been waaaay underutilizing you guys. I’ve got to remember that next time. How about we try working together now?”

As the trio worked their way through The Crypt, the Ring would occasionally point out an undisturbed body that had a useful piece of loot on it. Oliver collected one vial that would add a point of Dexterity when consumed and a small pile of Credit chips.

Eventually, the group found their way to a chamber with no exit except the way they came in.

“Careful guys,” Oliver warned. “Boss room.” As if to prove his point, the room shook, dislodging dust from the ceiling to rain down over the whole space, as the lid was scraped from a large stone sarcophagus. The undead that emerged was easily seven feet tall and carried a broadsword that you could serve dinner to a family of four on if you laid it flat. Fortunately for Oliver and company, it didn’t move any quicker than the other undead. Barton drew its attention, Trinket knocked it off balance with three rock shards to the chest, and Oliver finished it off with a coup-de-grace to the neck, sending its dented steel helmet rolling across the floor, skull rattling inside.

The prize was something new for Oliver: a smooth disk of polished black stone the size of his palm. Nothing was etched or painted on either side of the disk.

An upgrade token. It is consumed to give you one additional Perk on a Binding.

Oliver gazed at the stone with newfound respect. “That could be useful...” he murmured.

Yeah, let’s use it on the booger. Time for Trinket to evolve.