In The Cards

I hate traps. I really, really hate them. At least with monsters you can see them coming, most of the time. But with traps, you're just happily walking along, and then suddenly a lightning bolt shoots out at you, or the walls try to crush you, or you get hit with some nasty spell. And it always seems I'm the lucky one who gets to trigger them. Troops of strange adventurers may have passed through the dungeon before me and done so unmolested, but I'm the only one who gets fried, shot and crushed. Lucky some people seem to get kicks out of playing around with them, or I'd be long dead.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

"So that's it for the top levels," Zaerini remarked. "I guess the cellars are next."

"Oh d-dear," Khalid moaned. "I-if the top floors were littered with undead and d-demons, then I don't w-want to know what the cellars are like."

"Who knows? They could be all cleared out by other adventurers already."

"I would not count on it," Jaheira said. "If I know anything about dungeons at all, it is that they always get worse the deeper you go."

"It's not as if we have much choice though. And if Kirinhale can be trusted, then down is where we must go if we ever want to find our way out of here." The bard raised her hand to overrule any possible objections. "Yes, I know she's a demon and that she might have been lying. We'll just have to take our chances."

"At least there's good and solid dwarven rock everywhere around us," Yeslick mused.

"Yes," Edwin muttered. "Such as your head."

"So," Zaerini said in a very loud voice, trying to forestall an argument, "since it's all been settled, let's be off then. And Yeslick, I'd really like you to teach me one of those dwarven songs we discussed before…"

Once the party made their way downstairs they found themselves in a rather unimpressive looking cellar. It was a bare and circular stone room, with a few barrels heaped on the floor, and a well in the middle of the room. There was also a very nervous-looking man who was trying to hide between one of the barrels but was shivering too badly to succeed.

Another one? Rini thought. For a supposedly deserted tower this place sure is crowded. I just hope this one isn't hung up on that Largest Bust woman as well. I don't think I could take that.

"*COUGH* Who...who are you?" the man said, teeth chattering. "Ahh, a wanderer not unlike meself. Best you turn and walk on, friend; this place does not accept visitors with grace. Better you are alive and leaving, like me."

"You know," Zaerini said, "I didn't really expect this place to invite visitors in for tea and cookies when I first came here. Is there anything interesting you can tell me, or are you just going to do the 'frightened bystander' routine?"

The man looked a little taken aback at this, but he soon rallied. "Cocky, aren't you?" he said, before pausing to cough up some blood-tinged phlegm. " *Haaaawwwwk * You should expect to see many things that you did not expect, little girl. Heheh...oww...don't make me laugh. I've a dart in me gullet doing some nasty things. My name is Bayard, and me friends and I came here just as you did. It looks a rewarding place, but I have decided it is beyond my ability."

"Aw, don't worry," Imoen said encouragingly. "We'll be fine. I'm really good at spotting traps and things like that by now."

"If you live long enough to fight the creatures that call this place home count yourself lucky," Bayard said, his eyes alight with fear. "The very walls within will conspire to keep you at bay. Mere traps test only your dexterity, but this place is more than a simple doorknocker. Durlag was a sick, sick man, and I tell you that he meant to kill those that entered, not just hinder."

"Hey!" Yeslick protested and hefted his warhammer. "That's my distant kin yer talkin' about, so mind yer tongue!"

Bayard shuddered and coughed up some more blood. He was turning an alarming shade of gray. "No offence," he said. "I'm just…just feeling under the weather is all. Sure there be traps, triggered by wire or step or sound, but there are TESTS as well, tests he made to find friend or foe. You will need more than your agile fingers to escape what comes. Some traps give no second chance. Attention must be paid, or death will easily take you."

"Tests," Edwin muttered. "Of course. It had to be tests. Lucky I'm experienced with such things. (Well, at least they can't be more agonizing than the one I was given on Dangerous Creatures back when I was eight. I'm sure Durlag wouldn't be cruel enough to insert a trick question. How was I supposed to know that there's no such thing as a Plaid Dragon? There could have been.)"

Jaheira gave Bayard a disapproving look. "You seem quite certain this place is dangerous," she said. "What makes you so sure, and why have you abandoned your friends to it?"

The man snorted and wiped his sweaty brow. "I have not abandoned my friends," he said, his voice hoarse. "Young they may be, but they are old enough to make up their own minds. I will not baby-sit anyone who can take up the sword to defend themselves. I say the risk, and if they wish to continue it is their own fate they decide. Me, I be thinking that it is better to live. This place is death. It is in the air, and it gets in your clothes. My friends, they say 'by the gods, what is that stench?' And I tell them; it's the stink of death, citizens."

"So the Tower is well trapped and has monsters running about in it," Edwin said. "Sounds like every other dungeon I've been in. I have seen nothing to make me think otherwise."

"Hah! You have even less reason to believe it is NOT as dangerous as I say. There is a reason that no one has breached this place to any significant degree in over three hundred years. You have heard the history or you would not be here. Durlag was a disturbed man; his spirit was broken by the deaths of those around him. This place reflects what happened to him and he seems to demand you understand him before you are allowed passage." Bayard coughed again, a horrible, choking sound.

"Hold on," Yeslick said. "You are in need of healing. Let us see what we can do."

"No. It…it is too late I think. I see it now. This place is not a ruin, it is not open to the ages; this place was designed to keep people out...or kill them. Even the simplest of doors seems locked with ward stones. If you enter here you had best be prepared to succeed or die. And as I have not succeeded…I should have known Durlag wouldn't let me run free."

"Durlag is dead," Zaerini said. "Come on, let us try to help you. I'm sure we can do something."

"No. It's too late. And…dead?" Bayard smiled, his eyes already turning glassy. "Plenty of things are dead…and yet…they walk and talk. Death…isn't always the end." He coughed a final time, a violent spurt of blood gushing from his throat as if his very lungs had exploded inside his chest, and then he was still.

"You k-know…" Khalid started.

"Yes, dearest," Jaheira said, never taking her eyes off the corpse in front of her. "I know. You have a bad feeling about this. And this time I do agree with you."

A brief search of the cellar revealed some traps that Imoen disarmed without too much difficulty, including a nasty one beneath a loose flagstone that hid a beautiful Star Sapphire. A few more ghasts made a brief appearance and were summarily disposed of. And that seemed to be it.

"This is ridiculous!" Rini exclaimed, raking her hand through her red hair so that it practically stood on end. "There has to be a secret door somewhere, or where else could Bayard have come from?"

Yeslick was carefully tapping the walls, one stone at a time. "Oh, I'll find it I'm sure," he said. "Dwarves know stone, after all. Durlag won't be able to hide his secrets from me forever."

"Well, forever is sort of the key word here, isn't it? We can't wait forever or our supplies will run out and we'll starve to death." The half-elf's golden eyes were blazing angrily by now. "Damn Sarevok for getting us trapped in here!" She slammed her hand angrily into the wall, and then she was very much surprised as the stone gave way to her hand rather than crushing her fingers. A whole segment of the wall slid out of her way, making not a single sound, and as it did she lost her balance and tumbled head over heels down a dark flight of stairs. Oh, good, she thought as she fell. I think I found the secret entrance. Lucky me.

It was a good thing Zaerini was as agile as she was, or she would have been in real danger of breaking her neck. As it was she had trained herself to fall in the right way, and she landed on the floor with nothing more than a few bruises as a memory of her tumble.

"Rini!" Imoen screamed as she came bounding down the stairs after her friend, the others close behind. "Are you all right?"

"Um…I think so," the bard said a little sheepishly. "Guess I shouldn't have lost my temper, huh?" And then she noticed something on the carpet in front of her. A black, wide scorch mark. "Immy?" she said. "Take a look at this, would you?"

The pink-haired thief knelt by her friend and peered intently at the floor. After a few moments her mouth opened. "Oooh!" she said. "That's really nasty! Don't move an inch, I'll fix this."

"Er…Immy? Why shouldn't I move?"

"Er…well…there's this stepping stone trap, see? And you're lying on top of it. And if you get off, then…well…"

Zaerin closed her eyes, trying not to think about that black scorch mark a few inches away from her nose. "Then I'm toast?"

"More or less, yeah." Imoen patted the half-elf's shoulder reassuringly. "But don't worry, I've learnt how to disarm these." She fished out a by now pretty impressive collection of tools from her pack. "Now let's see…it was find the outlet for the fireball first…there we go, right there in the wall. And then we need to get it open. No problem. I can do that. And then cut the blue thread." She paused, and suddenly looked a little confused. "Or was that the red thread?"

"Immy!"

"Will you try to concentrate!" Edwin hissed at the young thief. The Red Wizard was almost jumping up and down with anxiety. "Do you want her to get blown up?"

"Hey, these things are tricky, you know! Don't bother me while I'm working."

Edwin kept quiet after that, for the most part. He did keep muttering angrily something about 'all rogues seemingly having that certain infuriating nonchalant attitude of infallibility' however.

"Now let's see," Imoen said. "Blue or red. Red or blue. I don't suppose you want me to flip for it?"

"No," Rini said between clenched teeth. "I really don't."

"Oh, wait. I remember now. There was this rhyme that was supposed to help me remember. I was having trouble with it before too. Got it. Cut the Blue is what you want to do, Cut the Red and you'll be dead." She took out a dagger and there was a brief * snip *.

Rini closed her eyes and waited for death. After a few seconds she realized it wasn't coming and dared let out her breath again, and even to get to her feet. Her legs did feel strangely wobbly though. "I'm alive," she said, hardly daring to believe it. "I'm alive!"

"N-n-not for very l-long I think," Khalid said. "L-look over there!"

Zaerini looked. The hallway opened into a large hall, dominated by a huge central staircase. Standing around it were four very strange beings. They looked like dwarves, but it was obvious they weren't really alive. Rather, they were metal constructs, all steel and copper and gold, glittering and shiny, with hard surfaces and sharp angles everywhere. And yet they moved, and patrolled around the staircase, clearly guarding it against all who would pass. They were all heavily armed and looked very dangerous.

"Amazing craftsmanship," Yeslick breathed.

"Yes," Edwin agreed. "Too bad they're also likely to be amazingly good at hurling axes at anybody who tries to get past them. (It's little things like that that can really ruin your day.)"

"Well, there's nothing for it," Rini said. "We'll just have to go and see. But I think a change of costume is in order, just to be careful. Let me go first, and I'll let you know when it's safe." She summoned the power, the essence within, and once again she shifted into the form of the fiery red cat. There, she thought to herself. Even if they should spot me, they shouldn't perceive me as a threat. Nobody could feel threatened by a harmless-looking little cat.

Fine, kitten, Softpaws said. Just remember that you only want to look harmless. Now let's go take a look at those metal things, and then I think it's way past time for our beauty nap. We do want to keep our fur shiny and our eyes bright, don't we?