Nervous, and unsure whether the door would open at all, he pressed his pudgy, pale white digits against the metal. He let out a sigh of relief as the door swung inward, just as the first had, revealing a long hallway, straight as an arrow, made of the same gray stone as the rest of the dungeon. There were two doors at the far end, nearly side by side. This time the golden luck door and the blue wits door awaited him inside. He was starting to sense a pattern. Unfortunately, standing like a hulking tower of doom between Logan and the pair of doors was a balding, slope-shouldered ogre with a wooden club that was twice as tall as Logan.
Ogre boy gave Logan a spitty, gritty grin and tapped an open palm with his sapling-sized club.
Yep. Combat oriented.
Logan had no desire whatsoever to tangle with the thing standing in the hallway.
Once more, he repeated the trek, heading toward the final of the three doors, the golden luck door, waiting so patiently for him at the end of the line.
This one opened just as the others had.
This time, however, Logan’s jaw almost hit the floor in shock. There were no slathering monsters waiting to club him into mushroom paste or deadly traps ready to roast him to a crisp. Instead, this was a treasure room, filled with piles of golden loot, teetering with glimmering weapons and shining armor. He was sure there were no freebies here, so the fact that there was no obvious danger made him even more wary. Still. Of the three rooms, this was hands down the most appealing. Taking down the ogre was out of the question, and chancing the fire-statue trap room was a risky proposition.
So, maybe rolling the dice was the best option after all. Was it a risk? Sure.
But you never got anywhere without a little luck, and you sure as heck didn’t become a soldier or make it long attached to an Infantry unit without a streak of boldness.
Before he had a chance to second-guess his gut instincts, Logan stole forward and into the treasure-filled chamber. The moment he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut and, against the laws of nature, vanished. Gone as though it had never been there. Cool trick. If he survived this whole thing, he’d have to learn how to pull that one off. There would be time for that later, though. For now, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Survival. Narrow pathways carved their way through the piles of loot, leading toward a pair of exit doors, crimson and blue.
He glanced down and noticed there was a flowing inscription carved deeply into the stone: Take only what you need, for the Journey is long.
Logan frowned at the line, tracing the letters with the edge of his toe. Take only what you need—good to know.
He moved gingerly through the stacks, pulling his arms in tight against his body so that he didn’t risk touching any of the loot—though the temptation to run his knubby fingers through all that gold was nearly overwhelming. He’d never been a greedy man and he’d always gotten by with what he had, but all that gold... Why, there had to be a hundred million dollars’ worth of the stuff, just lying around for the taking. And that wasn’t even accounting for the rubies, rough-cut diamonds, and beautifully wrought weapons and armor littering the teetering piles.
But his old life was gone, he reminded himself, and what good was gold or gaudy jewels to a fungaloid? He wouldn’t even be able to carry the armor on his minuscule frame. Besides, Aladdin had been his favorite Disney movie as a kid, and he knew what happened when you fell for the treasure. So, he ignored that greedy impulse and pushed inward, winding his way toward the exit.
About halfway through, he noticed something that didn’t quite fit the rest of the room’s treasure-vault décor. A simple satchel, well worn, the leather creased and cracked from age. A grappling hook, attached to a length of rope, hung out the side.
Ding, ding, ding! His spidey sense was tingling. Take only what you need. The words burbled through the back of his head like a brook.
Messing with that satchel would be risky, but even riskier would be to ignore it. If he was right, this was a room both for the lucky and the bold. The deck was heavily stacked against him, and having a few tools could go a long way toward rectifying that. He needed to be able to carry items, and every DnD player worth their salt knew you always carried rope. It was a dungeoneering essential.
Logan took a deep breath, preparing for catastrophe, and swung the bag over his shoulder. After a few seconds, when nothing terrible happened, he let out the pent-up breath in a sigh of relief.
Running a real dungeon was a lot more intense than grinding through a dungeon in an RPG or board game campaign. He continued on, keeping an eye out for any other out-of-place items that might come in handy. Much to his excitement, he found a plain, rusty-edged dagger that had seen better days and a travel-worn green cloak, frayed at the edges. Not exactly grand treasures, but practical and useful for a newb like him. He pilfered the blade and cloak without any dire consequences, proving once more that there were at least a few things in the room that were up for grabs.
After nearly ten minutes, he found himself across the room and much richer for it—the dagger, rope, and cloak stowed safely in his worn traveling bag. Lucky and bold was definitely the right pick, though unfortunately he wouldn’t get to play the same card again. He had two doors to choose from, two options to move forward. Combat and wits. As a fungaloid, this choice was an absolute no-brainer. He pressed his hand against the blue door, wits, and it swung open, giving him a glimpse of what was to come.
He expected to see the arrows and the fire-barfing dragon statues, but no, this was a different wits room. So each door was different... Interesting.
Inside lay a perfectly square chamber, its floor studded by a variety of colorful tiles, an enormous diamond hung overhead. There was no obvious threat, and he had the opportunity to open another golden door. He would take another puzzle room over a combat room any day of the week. He might not have to face the smirking ogre, but who knew what else he’d have to fight?
Still, though, he lingered, his foot at the edge of the threshold. He knew without a doubt that he wasn’t going through the combat room, but he couldn’t help but wonder about all the treasure piled up all around him. He was so close to the exit and some part of him needed to know what would happen if he touched the gleaming loot.
Probably something bad. Probably.
But what if it was all just some head game?
He couldn’t rightly live with himself if he passed over all these goodies without even trying. Nearby was a small silver buckler with a fist-sized ruby in the center. Small enough for him to use, which was rare. Something like that could go a long way later on in the dungeon. He had to try—had to know.
Keeping an eye on the door into the wits room, he ghosted forward, one hand reaching for the buckler. The second he touched it, he felt a minute surge of power, almost like getting a static shock from a light switch. The shield came away with ease and was light as a feather. Perfect for his arm, with a trio of straps crisscrossing the back.
Naturally, the floor started rumbling and heaving beneath him, enormous fissures cracking through stone and swallowing piles of loot in real time.
Yep. Not a mind game after all.
This had Aladdin Cave of Wonders written all over it, and it was time to get out. Moving as quickly as his misshapen fungaloid body would allow, he turned on a heel and darted toward the open door. The floor rumbled beneath him, accompanied by the sound of boulders crumbling and the tinkle of coins falling. He propelled himself forward, diving over the threshold and into the connecting room, landing on his belly with a meaty thud. He glanced back as the door slammed shut, just in time to see magma erupt in violent molten geysers, consuming everything in fire and heat.