"To the West is the continent of Occidania; a pride of griffins, nay a sack of owlcats. Once we treated them as a pedestal to be reached…but now? They let the power get into their heads. That is why they are always fighting over territory as if their land is not already big enough. I digress….to the west, the continent of Occidania, separated from our dear Alkerd by the Hesperian Sea or Oceania Hesperia as it was known. The only way to cross over to that side is through the land bridge; the Straits of Hya’cinthe which arise from the depths once every Blue Moon or by aership. Unlike the seven fell kings of yore, no one is foolish enough to sail over sea because the Hesperian sea is no stranger to all manner of unexplained things. –Oceans and Land Masses by [Geographical Researcher] Keanu Silvertongue.

Wind beat at his face, trying to wrest at the hood of his cloak as the mist twirled in vortices around his hoverboard. His companions trotted ahead of him. Three of them were on their bird mounts while one jogged alongside, undaunted and keeping pace. He could have gotten a mountain heavy for a mount, but those kinds of breeds were hard to find and considered luxurious; mostly, they were destriers who were trained for war.

Besides it wasn’t that far from the fortress to the dungeon entrance; a measly fourteen leagues they said. The bird mounts, llimu aptly named because they were wingless in some old tongue, could make the journey in 2 hours at a decent trot; which was half their speed.

The party reached the entrance to the dungeon when the sun had yet to crest the top of the oasis’ canopy of palms. It was still early morning and that meant they hardly broke a sweat; the oasis’ cooler micro-climate made sure of that.

The entrance of the dungeon was a majestic structure inset into a rocky hill. It gave the impression of a barbican, like the fortress but without the portcullis. There was an opaque barrier that visibly shimmered with magic even the party’s mundane sights could pick up.

For anyone with mana sense, the area around the entrance was fraught with old magic as old runes shone on the obsidian façade. The gaping hole in the hill was ominous and so not very inviting to Arthur who’d already had his fair share of caverns.

“So,” Arthur said, as everyone dismounted. “Who is the leader?”

“That would be me,” Livierre replied as she unsaddled her pack.

Everyone had been decked out in gear, mostly leathers for its mobility. Even Nora wore out in a full body leather suit, underneath her hood. It made her look like a rogue with the daggers holstered to her thighs. Arthur had also ditched his chain-mail in favor of the leather cuirass he’d been given.

The leather armor was made from sand wurm hide and was considered the toughest material in the Titan’s Dustbowl, made from an already dead adult sand wurm. No one would be nuts enough to jostle with a beast whose hide broke mundane blades. Surprisingly it didn’t chafe his joints and the tawny colored leathers did not trap heat; something about the sand wurms’ adaptation to the desert.

Arthur was armed with his dagger and a borrowed short sword as well. He had his watch on, for the compass; the tieflings didn’t even inquire about it. To a people who were accustomed to encountering relics from the Dustbowl, it might as well have been a mundane trinket.

Neither did they bat an eyelid at his indiscreet use of storage magic through his magic knapsack.Arthur supposed that their interactions with dwarven merchants saw them familiarized with storage magic.

Since the entrance looked large enough, he strapped the board to his back using the harnesses Livierre had helped him fashion. He’d also done some repair work on it, enough to qualify as a routine maintenance instead of the patch work job he’d done before.

Mainly, it had included removing some bits of shrapnel from a tenebrinth arrowhead, which Livierre was quick to claim as payment for the use of her materials. Now, the Azure Surfer could be depended upon to pull its weight, at least until another maintenance check.

“Isn’t that a little cumbersome?” Kervir asked as he leaned against a rock, sharpening his gladius. Elsewhere, Arkilius was giving his war hammer a test swing. With the way the hulking tiefling didn’t seem winded from jogging all the way to the dungeon, he had to have high endurance and strength. Arkilius still had the energy to swing a hammer as big as Arthur’s torso.

“I can use it as a shield when I want,” replied Arthur as he knocked on the board. “It’s made of ironwood.”

“Hmph,” Kervir snorted. “Muscle heads.” Arkilius grunted in disapproval while Arthur just shook his head. Though Kervir had stopped antagonizing him due to a misunderstanding, he was still a dour fellow in his interactions with the human who he kept calling pale-skin. The blue tiefling was oblivious to another individual right behind him who was pale as well and currently scowling at him.

“Enough dawdling, if everyone’s ready, get in formation,” Livierre called out as she hefted her backpack. She made a shrill whistle to the avian mounts who took that as their cue to graze around for grub and edible plants. They would be around until their owners returned.

With the frontliners in their positions, Arthur and Livierre in the middle and Nora as the rearguard, the party crossed the magical veil separating the outside from the dungeon. It was like passing through a wall of jelly-o, besides the feeling that Arthur had come to associate with wards, only more invasive. The magical barrier probed and poked at every nook and cranny of his body as though weighing his worth and as he passed through.

The party entered a tall passageway lit by Lux crystals that flickered casting eerie shadows on old brick walls. The air was stale inside; it stunk of swamp gas and socks which had been sitting at the bottom of a bucket for weeks; it almost turned him green with nausea.

Arthur was reassured that it was not he that was sensitive, seeing as the others were more or less in the same state as him. That said, he did wrap his scarf around his mouth and nose to stave off the foul air. He added a mental note that he was going to make a mask if dungeon delving was like this.

“No fire magic in here,” Livierre warned as she pulled the cowl of her leathers over the bottom half of her face. Armed with a wand, she cast a [Light] spell sending two balls of light floating into the passageway.

The shadows diminished and the vanguard took that as a prompt to lead the way. There was nothing uneventful on this floor. They only encountered disarmed traps like whirling blades chipped against the floor, open pit falls full of scorpions and arrows which had clattered against the opposite wall.

The passageway, ultimately opened into another much larger hall that had three ornate doors. All of them had active, pulsing runes like the first entrance’s . Here, Livierre called for a stop as she retrieved a parchment containing scribbles of the dungeon’s layout.

“Ahead, are the doors to the lower floors. The middle door goes to the third and the rightmost door goes to the last floor.” she said pointing to each. Then she frowned saying, “ I would choose the right most door if the difficulty was manageable but we’ll just be overrun before we reach it. So we’ll go the easy way since it’s our first time here.”

No one refuted her suggestion, save for Kervir who looked disgruntled. Arthur thought that it was just in his nature to be brash about things. “Keep your senses peeled, we shall be seeing combat soon. I’ll reduce the brightness on my spell to give us some cover. Will that be a problem, Arthur Sturmdrache?” she asked with a pointed look.

“No, I’ll manage,” Arthur responded, clinching the harnesses of his hoverboard securely against his back. He psyched himself for action; it was the first time he’d had a head on confrontation with monsters without turning tail. Also, it was his first time in a dungeon.

They fell under attack as soon as they crossed the door’s threshold, from a swarm of rats. The rats were as big as dogs with an overbite that had dagger-like fangs. Their skin was a brown that was slick with oil while webbing was spread between their hind feet.

The floor’s layout was a network of criss crossing aqueducts that cut across the passageway. The magical lighting in the cavern was low but Arthur could see just as well as the tieflings and dhampirs who had Nox affinity.

“Don’t let them scratch or bite you, they carry pestilence.” Livierre yelled between grunts as she cast spells that lobbed rocks at the swamp rats. Kervir was a dervish of gladius shrikes as he shadows stepped along the walls, dispatching foes as they fell from overhead.

On the other hand, Arkilius had cast a [Stone Skin] armour where the rat’s teeth could not find purchase as he waded among the swarm, pounding them to death with his war hammer.

Nora covered their rearguard from the few creatures that tried to outflank them from behind. As for Arthur, he was just using pin-point [Thunder Bolts] to kill those that had yet to emerge from the aqueducts ahead of them.

Most convulsed in the water as they got their fur singed and drowned. Some even caught fire from the oil on their fur spreading the smell of charred flesh in the air. The heady mix of the smells only worsened the rancid atmosphere of the passageway and Arthur had to keep the air cycling with more magic, taxing his concentration.

The quartet of delvers fought wave after wave of the vermin as they traversed the passageways to get to the next connection to the third floor. They made it; albeit covered in grime and sweat from their slog across the swarms of rats that threw at them with reckless abandon.

Was the floor an easy one? Arthur had no reference, but facing a monster that came at you with numbers, fangs and disease would have had him running for the hills if he didn’t have the abilities and skills he had then. His sword skills were already ill-suited for such an encounter unclassed in them as he was. It was fortunate he wasn’t forced into close quarters combat.

While catching their breath in the hall adjoining the third floor. Arthur mused that tiefling’s fire, earth and darkness magics would have been a bad matchup for the dungeon.

Fire could have caused suffocation if they burnt the swarms because singeing the hair off the rats released noxious fumes from their oils. Arthur was an exception because his lightning had killed them in the water, all the while drowning them en masse. The water smothered the noxious fumes as a result.

While the air was stale, it didn’t combust in the second room as Livierre had reassured him otherwise his [Thunder Bolt] would have been put on the back burner. In spite of that, using his new air spell would have been tantamount to taking a tank to a cardboard house. There simply wasn’t enough space with the vanguard in the way and the power would have outright popped their ears from sudden pressure changes.

“ One more floor then we make camp, ” groaned Livierre as she limbered up. She’d been charging her wands while they rested and ate their rations. By guesstimate, it must have been noon outside; being away from the sun tended to skew your sense of time.

“The next floor is golems?” Arthur mumbled as he cinched the straps of his knapsack to his chest. He was also catching his breath and letting his mana well refill. Surely there had to be a skill to cycle mana faster?

Livierre nodded in affirmation. Arthur also made sure that the board on his back was flawless and secured , in case they needed to make a run for it. This was where their mettle would be tested, against forces of nature.

‘One more floor then camp’ Arthur grimaced at the grime on his leathers. ‘I wish I could enchant this with self-cleaning, but only an [Armourer Enchanter] can work with these ones. But we can’t have everything can we?

The next floor was a bit different in that their foe did not come screeching at them as soon as they crossed the doorway. They had to descend stairs into a tunnel whose ceiling was loftier than the passageway they’d passed.

By how long they walked, they had gone down deep underneath the hill from which the dungeon was dug out. The air here was fresher, or so it seemed. The tiefling [Artificer] professed that the deeper they went, the more the enchantments were in working order and that’s why the air was continuously circulated.

Arthur frowned, thinking about what would have happened if it was stale. The part stank of their previous engagement and the filth covering their armor did not make it any easier.

After clearing the last landing without encounters, they reached the bottom of the stairs. Contrary to the previous floor which was made of stone, it looked like a beaten path.

There was no overture to the golems’ movement, neither screeches nor footfalls. For what sound did a dune shifting in the sand make? Perhaps the squelching of mud on earth could have been a prelude to the fight?

In a cavern as big as the one they’d found themselves in, sounds were muted. It was eerie waiting for a sign of attack when they knew golems did not have lungs or vocal cords.

That said, were it not for their readiness, they would have been taken by surprise. That , and besides the fact that the party was already badly matched against sand and mud monsters.

Fireballs from Livierre’s wand could only leave scorch marks, Kervir’s gladius thrusts were ineffectual and Arkilius’s hammer blows only scattered the mud and sand after which the golems just reconstituted themselves.

As for the golems’ blows, well, imagine being given a haymaker by a landslide or submerged in quicksand. Nora’s skills bore no mention at this point.

Even in the contest of brute strength, only Arkilius could barely stand his ground. But even he could not handle two golems alone and so it was upto Arthur to join the fray.

“[Bulwark]!” Arkilius bellowed, as he intercepted a gigantic fist made of mud and other detritus with his own skill. A wall make of pieces of the earth rose up in response. There was a whump! sound as the golem’s blow was intercepted. Arthur who was standing right behind Arkilius could feel the gust of air that followed the blow. It ruffled his hair.

Meanwhile the other golem made of sand was being hounded by Livierre, Kervir and Nora. The behemoths looked like mud dolls a child would make, without feet and having crude imitations of hands. They had three cavities where the eyes, and mouths went and were three times taller than Arkilius. And Arkilius was tall.

“Pale-skin! Do something!” Kervir shouted, shadow stepping away from the sandy hand that threatened to flatten him.

“I’m trying, damn it!” Arthur shouted back as he cast spells to see what would do the most damage before committing his mana. Perhaps a lightning spell would scorch the mud to dryness and disrupt the cohesive nature of the mud. He thought it was worth a try.

“Arkilius, incoming!” Arthur warned. Arkilius groaned, intercepting another blow that sent cracks spider webbing beneath his feet. He jumped back, switching places with Arthur with practiced ease.

“[Thunder Bolt]!” Arthur called out his magic as lightning illuminated their surroundings. Thunder boomed as the bolt lanced through the mud golem. It went through the centre, where the golem would have a sternum if it had bones, earthing itself through the mud. Steam billowed explosively as the mud was desiccated of its water, turning into hard earth.

The golem slowed down, no longer possessing flexibility of its limbs and Arkilius took that chance to end it. With a running jump that cratered dirt underfoot, the brick-red tiefling went for an overhead pounding.

“[Sundering Blow!]”, his war-hammer sparked, becoming a size larger. Arthur clamped down his ears, hunkering down for the final hit. It was like an earthquake; Arkilious literally cleaved the dried mud golem in twain.

Confident, with another warning Arthur sent another bolt of lightning soaring through the air. As the sand golem turned to advanced, indifferently shrugging off the rest of the party’s attacks, the [Thunder Bolt] spell burned through its cavernous maw.

Unlike the mud golem, the bolt found no water, instead super-heating the sand as it passed through. What was left was a gaping hole ringed with glass that cracked under its own weight. With the sound of crashing ceramics, the sand golem toppled into the ground and the deed was done.

“Maybe you should have done that earlier!” Kervir groaned as he propped himself up with his gladius. Used to agility, he’d been running circles around the golem, trying to draw its attention while the others peppered it with other distractions.

He’d gotten glancing blows when he couldn’t move out of the way in time so he was bound to bruise. As for his counterparts, they’d kept their distance.

“We have tertherite,” Livierre drew their attention after rummaging around the remains of the golems. She was carrying two crystals that looked like smoky amethyst; the tielfing handed one of them to Arthur. It was a potent crystallization of mana that glowed brightly in his mana sense.

“We should have aimed for the tertherite crystal cores; they were the golem’s mana source.” She huffed, blowing the sand off her goggles. “Either way, good going; we still get to keep them. I’m sure they’ll come in handy sometime.”

‘Not that I don’t know what to do with a tertherite crystal, but eh, I’ll cash it for ship materials.’ He thought, putting it into his backpack. Kervir was giving him the stink eye. ‘Someone’s still salty; what a sore loser’ Arthur shrugged it off as they started on the next stairwell to the depths of the dungeon.

The next hall was well lit and free of debris save for a layer of dust and cobwebs that showed nobody had passed through in a long time. They decided to set camp there before the final floor the following day. There were open rooms and no traps much to their elation.

Some of the rooms looked like places that dungeon makers had used when not working. The amenities happened to include a bath hewed out or granite rock which was a boon.

Arthur had first dibs cleaning up the grunge that had gotten stuck to him as they delved. Later, he also cleansed his armor and dried it with moving air before sitting down to a proper dinner. Since they had time, Nora was the one doing the cooking for the party.

After the supper, Arthur felt like he was in the mood for exploration so he went into some of the rooms they hadn’t stepped into. Since, they’d already divvied up enough space to set down their sleeping pallets, the rest of the space free game.

While the rooms they’d chosen to sleep in were places of residence for the ancient overseers of the dungeon, the other main room Arthur saw looked like a research lab with work tables arrayed against the walls.

Whatever odds and ends had been in the room seemed to have succumbed to the ravages of time. Their rusted remains made it hard to discern what the original articles had once been. There were pieces of parchment, buried under a layer of dust and air magic Arthur sent to clear it simply disintegrated the parchments into powder; they were far too gone.

However, there were pigeon holes and shelves whose contents had fared better. He’d been disappointed that he wouldn’t find any treasure after coming this far but he found something fascinating.

“What do you have in your hands?” Livierre asked when Arthur had come back to their camp. Every gaze was now on him as he made his way to his acquaintances.

“I don’t know—you tell me,” said Arthur as he held a pyramidal object of unknown material with intricate carvings on its faces. The etchings looked utilitarian rather than decorative with straight lines and square curves, inlaid using, again, some unknown metal. Even his mana sense could tell the metal was meant to be a mana conduit.

“[Appraisal]” Livierre intoned. Her eyes glowed with magic as she glanced at the object. “A dead dungeon shard.”

“For real?—That skill of yours seems to come in handy.” Arthur commented, staring in wonder that such a convenient skill could exist. “ I don't have any skills that work on something that’s not at least partially functioning.”

“It’s a high level class skill,” Livierre mentioned curtly. “Relatively high anyway.”

“Mmh, I need to level more,” Arthur mumbled, as he turned the palm sized construct in the shape of a pyramid in his hands. “What else does it say about the shard?”

Livierre frowned, “It says that the shard is incomplete. That’s about it.

“My class might be high level but some artifacts out-level the [Appraisal] skill.” the artificer shrugged, “ If you don’t have basic knowledge about what you’re looking at you won't have all the information.”

“There’s more?” Arthur exclaimed, then face-palmed. “Oh, of course there’s more. Guess I’ll have to learn that sometime.”

“You can think of the shard as a smaller dungeon core; that’s what we’ll be tinkering with for the weather enchantments tomorrow.”

“Oh?” ‘And you’re telling me that now? You didn't say we’re messing with an actual dungeon core’ “I’m looking forward to seeing the working article,”Arthur lied through his teeth. “ Feck it!”

“I think we have to turn in for the night,” Kervir called out blasely. “I’ll take the first watch, if only to get away from rambling about enchantments and magical items.”

“Hey!” Livierre retorted.