Sleep can help with the harshest things.

Arron inserted the final key and was rewarded with a click—a foreign mechanical sensation—in the massive stone door. Low rumbling pulsed through the soles of his boots as the doors swung open, revealing a long dark hallway, hints of daylight tickling at the end.

“Now we get to the fun part!” Mercutio bellowed, pumping his fist.

Arron twitched an eyebrow at the bard, who smiled back maniacally. There was no menace in that look anymore. Something had passed between them the previous evening. Something that didn’t need to be explained. Mercutio witnessed Arron at his weakest, and Arron had come to know his friend deeper through the respect he’d been shown in the height of his despair.

It was the sort of thing you can’t plan. A kind of organic interaction that grows from pure honesty and reflects who each person is at their core, rather than who they want others to see.

“Fun part for who?” Arron asked.

“Why us, of course!” The bard nearly giggled.

Arron could have sprained the muscles behind his eyes he rolled them so hard.

“Ok, lad,” Torbin said, walking over. “This is the entry fall.”

“You mean entry hall, right?”

“Nope,” the dwarf smiled. “I mean entry fall. That hallway is one long trap, and you gotta solve the puzzle to get past it.”

The passage stretched about forty yards before opening into bright sunlight. An actual imitation of the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The walls appeared to be greasy as they glistened in the reflected daylight. His questing hands came away wet with an oily substance he rubbed between his fingers.

“Fire oil,” Mercutio added cheerfully. “Incredibly slick so you can’t stick to the walls, and the best part? It’s super flammable.”

The hall took on a new feeling of diabolical intent.

“At least there isn’t any fire,” he grumbled.

“Any fire… yet,” Iris provided. “Spring the trap, it drops small, flaming balls before the floor gives way.”

She too was smiling at Arron. In fact, the whole group was.

Long moments stretched as Arron stared blank-faced at his grinning party.

“Of course it does,” he finally said, turning back to the hall. “Why would it be any other way? Ok, so how do we pass it then?”

“Nope!” Torbin said. “No we on this one, Kemosabe.”

“What?” Arron asked in disbelief.

“Picked this dungeon for a reason, boy-o. You need to start working through the puzzle’s too.”

“Why the hell would I need to do that? You come up with the plans. I hit things with my hammer. Been working pretty good so far…”

“Because, ya meathead,” Torbin said, pointing his finger at Arron’s face. “When it comes to puzzles, everyone has to contribute. There are plenty of situations where even if we wanted to carry your ass through the puzzles, which, let’s be clear, we don’t, you would end up separated and have to solve ’em on your own anyway. It’s part of the game. Best to just start learning the basics now.”

Arron pinched his brow, contemplating the various ways he could try, and fail, to throttle the dwarf.

Calm. Friends. Bella.

“Any hints then?”

Torbin stroked his chin, giving Arron an appraising look.

“Aye, I’ll give ya this. It’s a trap, right? Well, every trap has to be sprung by something.”

Arron stared at the dwarf incredulously. “Seriously? Your help is a riddle? Has our experience together lent the impression I’m good at riddles?”

“Oh, fine!” Torbin said, exasperated. “Just watch your feet.”

“Watch my feet,” Arron repeated, nodding. “I can do that.”

He tried to shrug away the chill that ran down his spine as he approached the entrance. The glimmering fire oil on the wall took on an aggressive quality with his new knowledge.

Watch my feet.

Arron crouched down, staring into the tunnel, searching for whatever the hell the dwarf was talking about. Tripwires maybe?

Small holes around the size of a pencil lined the walls of the chamber. The source of the ever-running oil. Small streams of the substance slowly dripped from the openings. Those same walls stretched twelve feet into the air and curved overhead, meeting in a smooth dome.

But the floor of the hall held his focus.

One-foot tiles ran its length, covering the floor from wall to wall, each decorated with pictures of dinosaurs, what must be eggs and mosquitos.

Tripwires, maybe. Dinosaur pictures. Mosquitos and eggs. His head hurt, and he hadn’t even started yet.

“Well, hello there!” a slightly British voice called from inside the tunnel.

Startled, Arron swung Mule reflexively, smashing the hammer into the side of the wall and cracking the stone. When he pulled the head back, he vaguely noticed it was now covered in the waxy fire oil. Crouching low, he glowered into the tunnel, seeking the source of his surprise.

“It’s so good to see you here!” the cheerful voice said. “Let me introduce myself.”

A short, slightly pudgy, older gentleman in a white suit with a festive brimmed hat and cane stepped through the wall he’d just smashed, and stopped in the center of the hall.

Smiling, the white-bearded man waved. “I’m Hammond, and I will be your guide to the history behind Jurassic Classic!”

“My guide?” Arron asked, skeptical.

“You see, there is a lot to know about this wonderful place. From its dinosaurs, its locals, even its fascinating fauna!”

Arron, growing annoyed, pushed his hammer forward, setting its head right in front of the babbling man.

“What the hell are you talking about, old man?” he growled, trying his best to put a little threat into his voice.

Intimidation Check – Abject Failure!

Arron hadn’t really considered that he was trying to intimidate the man. He guessed it made sense. Gritting his teeth, Arron thrust, stumbling when Mule’s head went through the old man, breaking a stream of light from some hidden projector.

Arron didn’t have much time to think about that. He was far too focused on catching his balance and the subsequent tile he stepped on. The tile that gave way under his foot.

“Goddammit!”

Soft hands caught him an instant before his head passed beneath the floor, arresting his motion but giving him far too clear a look at the lengthy, terrifying darkness below. In the distance, the far, far distance, was what could only be a river of lava glowing in the gloom.

“Last bit of help,” Iris smiled, pulling him up and patting him on the back.

Nodding his thanks, Arron returned his attention to the tunnel and hologram, catching some ridiculous interaction where another hologram poked the old man on the finger, and he started to duplicate himself.

“Hello, Hammond!” a sixth copy of the old man said, drawing laughter from the whole bunch before they swooped back together into a single person.

The cheese factor of this amusement park-style video was stunning in how out of place it seemed.

“But where did all this come from?” a higher-pitched voice asked.

Hammond looked around for a moment before answering, “Well, that’s an excellent question! Who is that?”

From the wall on the other side of the hall, an honest to God, floating cartoon appeared. Its body was in the shape of a double helix and had large comical eyes.

“Oh, hello, Mr. DNA!” Hammond said excitedly.

Arron had enough.

Sprinting in, he leaped as far as he could, stretching spread eagle as wide as his body would go. With a thwack, he belly-flopped onto the hard stone tiles, which predictably gave way.

Arron tried to remain calm as his chest, legs, and head fell through the floor. He held in his scream as the terrifying visage of the long, long fall appeared before him again.

And then he felt solidity and he snapped his hand closed.

Dexterity Check – Meager Success!

Arron swung face-first into the pillar.

He had taken a gamble, and for once, it paid off. Hitting so many tiles at the same time, one of them would have to be stable. Right?

It hadn’t been graceful. It hadn’t been painless. But it worked. He hung from a tile suspended in the air, supported by a tall pillar previously hidden from view.

Blood leaked from his palm where the tile cut into his hand, slickening his fingers. Cursing, he threw his legs around the pillar to take some weight off his weakening grip. Looking up, he took a deep breath and forced himself to once again ignore the plummeting peril below him.

With a grunt, he shimmied his way up to sit on the tile and rewarded his group with a wide smile.

A row of slightly annoyed faces, interrupted by Mercutio’s expression of pure joy, looked back at him.

“Ya know, boy,” Torbin started,” I… I don’t even know what to say about that particular piece of idiocy.”

Arron’s grin went ear to ear.

Until balls of fire started falling from the ceiling.

The first few weren’t a major inconvenience, bouncing off tiles and harmlessly adding additional light to the room. A few even bounced off him, stinging with little pops of heat. Nothing dangerous for a player with his Constitution Levels.

Then one of the balls grazed the wall, and the hall exploded.

A bright light took over his vision. Searing pain and a high-pitched ringing was the only sensation for several seconds. Gradually, motes of light floated before his eyes as he regained his senses. With a flash of fear, he realized he was hanging onto the tile he’d been seated on.

The pulsing pain made him certain his fingers were being cooked by the heat.

Arron peaked down at the drop, fighting back terror, and then back up at the oven above.

He was trapped. Hanging over a chasm.

Perfect.

Arron thought hard. He scanned his surroundings, pulse pounding in his ears, nearly overwhelming the roar of the inferno overhead. Moments went by searching for an escape, ignoring the pain in his hands.

There! Other pillars holding up the floor stretched into the distance. He couldn’t see them from above, but hanging below like he was, it was easy to discern where the next safe tile was.

Ignoring the sensation of his skin cooking, he pulled himself up and jumped for the nearest safe tile.

He landed on a sturdy one, some picture of someone using a needle on a mosquito trapped in a rock.

He was surprised it worked.

He was more surprised when Mule burst into flames.

The oil on the head of the hammer ignited like a bonfire, creating an impossibly large flame. six feet high and white hot in its raging intensity, the fire seemed to burn from an inner fire, fueled by more than simply a flammable oil.

Glee. Joy. Righteous satisfaction poured off of Mule, washing through Arron’s body and imparting a near drunken giddiness.

Laughing, he smashed the surrounding tiles with the hungry, hammerhead inferno, watching the pieces of ceramic nearly liquify before they fell into the dark. A fierce smile stretched his face as he swung down, taking refuge from the heat above again.

Strangely, the fire coming from Mule didn’t burn him, something he noticed with satisfaction but set aside to consider later.

He jumped between pillars three more times before he reached the other side of the hallway, exiting and swinging Mule into a large red “off” button built into the cave wall.

The tiles that had fallen into the darkness floated back up and secured themselves in place along the hallway floor. The fire along the walls dimmed, condensing into small, torch-like flames. To Arron’s slight disappointment, the fire wreathed around Mule’s head dimmed and went out as well.

“Well…” Torbin grumbled as the party came through the chamber. “That was one way to do it, I guess.”

Arron, feeling rather proud of himself, replied, “Thanks! That was a pretty great puzzle. Who would have thought you had to knock out the floor to see where to go next? And did you see my hammer? That was awesome!”

“The solution, to that puzzle,” Torbin said, slowly, with controlled staccato, “was not to jump in like a crazy person, belly flop onto the stone floor, and hope to the great RNG’s that you manage to grab something before you fall to your death. The solution, to that particular puzzle, was to watch the, admittedly, annoying video. Then step on the tiles that matched sections of the video, in order. That is what normal people would figure out, you half-crazed, bull-headed doofus with a luck enema!”

Arron didn’t say anything for a moment. “Oh.”

Another awkward moment lingered between them.

“You uh, said something about locals?” Arron finally asked, smiling a devilish grin.

“Aye, I did, boy-o,” Torbin replied, fighting down a smile amidst a smattering of chuckles around him. “These locals… well, you’ll see. We’re teaming back up to deal with ’em. But we gotta stealth back up as long as possible. Got it?”

Arron reluctantly nodded his understanding. Again with the stealth.

He hardly grumbled when Torbin picked him up like a wee baby and set off.