In Dungeons Deep Ch. 02

"This is just like my room. Er, well, our room now. I think it is, or used to be, someone else's." Hogarth touched the solid door handle and gave the metal a firm push. Unsurprisingly it didn't budge.

Sudden, panicked tugging pulled at his shirt drew his attention back to Lug. He couldn't see anything at first, but then he heard it, a deep snuffling sound. It was heavy, filling the lungs of something large that had to be following their scent. Next he heard the clacking scrape of claws against stone. It was getting closer, and Hogarth had taken them into a hallway with a dead end.

Cursing his stupidity, he could only stare and think as the farthest borders of light were invaded by a gruesome visage. It was easily the size of a bear, with a skeletal muzzle bearing thick incisors and several knife length interlocking fangs. Rather than fur, its hide was bare with several wrinkles built up around its neck and joints.

Its head swung slowly to and fro, seemingly oblivious to the light. Where its nose appeared to be, tentacles blossomed like slug eye stocks, dozens of them fanning out and touching along the floor and walls as it snuffed deeply. It was meticulous, and Hogarth could practically see it following every move they had made and everything they might have touched along the way.

Hogarth shoved the door again, trying not to panic in the presence of such a large creature practically designed to kill in these conditions. When Lug let out an involuntary whimper, the monster snapped its plated head in their direction and released a rumbling hiss. Then it resumed its steady march in their direction. It knew these passages. It had time to spare.

He considered taking them farther down the hall, but all that would buy them would be time. The answer was in front of him, but he wasn't sure how to reach it. He tried to think of all he knew about his room. It was small, magically and physically locked, and seemed primed just for him. It was the first place he'd stumbled into that recognized his return, but only...only when he had the necklace!

In a desperate bid for time and to free his hand, Hogarth threw the torch at the beast. He scored a direct hit, the white hot cage of burning stones bouncing off the hunchbacked shoulders of their nemesis. Rather than pain or surprise, it lashed out and clawed viciously, its reflexes on a hair trigger to try and snatch anything it couldn't see. It succeeded in swatting the torch and scattering smoldering stones everywhere, some of which found rugs to ignite. This was just getting better and better, Hogarth thought bitterly.

Reaching inside his shirt, he pulled at the chain to draw out the crystal glowing like a small golden ember on the end. He held it up to the door and watched as the green light came forth in response, growing brighter until it flashed and went dead. Heartbeats ticked by and Hogarth wondered if he'd simply burned the thing out.

The hissing was replaced by a sinister growl as the C'thulish mole rat monster resumed its deadly march. Had he gambled and lost? It seemed so. He considered briefly the idea of trying to throw Lug up and over the creature to possibly save her when the door suddenly cracked open a fraction. Up above the green light had been replaced, and in its stead was an orange light that matched the necklace.

Lug bowled him instantly through the door. Their last remaining torch fell to the ground as they scrambled to get the door shut behind them, pressing hard as a macabre head of the creature smashed against it.

Everyone screamed as tentacles whipped around its gnashing maw. Hogarth, Lug, and loudest of all the monster itself shrieked as it tried to force its way inside. It was a losing battle as the creature grounded itself and began to press more of its body into the room.

The mace was useless, bouncing off of the hard skull muzzle. Desperate and unable to think of anything else, Hogarth abandoned the door to lunge for the torch. Lug squealed anew as she was pinned behind the door, and a single massive paw came slapping down onto the space where he had been.

Blood pulsing wildly in his veins, Hogarth stabbed at the creature's face with the end of the torch. Tentacles flailed and recoiled as pain flashed across its senses. It made another clawing grab towards him, but with only one limb he was just quick enough to sidestep the falling claws. Huge teeth came snapping next, but he was ready this time. He jammed the end of the torch into its gaping maw just as its muzzle smashed bodily into him.

Pain lanced through his chest and arms where the animal struck, but he was spared the worst of what they could do. Smoke and the smell of burning meat billowed from the monster's jaws as it thrashed in retreat. Its scream was full of rage and pain as it swung its head wildly, its own claws scratching and breaking teeth in an effort to dislodge the torch.

Hogarth didn't wait to see how it ended. He slammed the door shut, releasing Lug to slump into him as he reached up to pull out the familiar crystal above. The room instantly went silent, but for the sound of their labored breathing.

"Holy shit, we made it!" What they had made it into was uncertain, but it definitely wasn't the inside of a monster rodent.

Lug let the shield drop from her arm and looped both limbs around his hips, a ragged sob escaping her lips. She buried the rest in his puffed out shirt, her shoulders shaking lightly as she cried. Hogarth winced as he wrapped her in a hug, one hand burying in her made of black hair to gently caress the top of her head. He didn't say anything, he simply held her, grateful to be alive and not alone and bleeding in the dark.

He was still bleeding in the dark, but he had company. Gradually Lug's tears subsided, and she sniffled softly. "You hurt? Smelling blood." She pulled back enough to pull at his hand and poke around on his chest. "Teeth scratch and cut, need to clean."

"What about you? You got smushed by the door. Nothing broke did it? Does anything hurt?"

The glowing gem in his hand wasn't enough to see more than her face as she pulled him into a kneeling position. Her face was puffier than usual and her lips looked swollen, but she otherwise seemed unharmed. "I's okay, nothing crunched."

Hogarth swore as fire blossomed anew inside his flesh. Lug was carefully running her hands over every one of them, but rather than just the tingle, he could feel the filth that had been on the monster's teeth being drawn out along with fresh, trickling blood. She didn't stop until the last little bit had trickled up her fingertips and into her palms.

He drew in a breath when she turned and stepped away, vanishing into the dark. "Lug..?"

There was a rustling of something clacking on stone, then a soft splat of wet substance landing on hard. She answered a second after. "Is okay, I'm here. This room's big. Lots of old things, good things! Lights all sleeping. Gotta wakem up."

Something creaked, and Lug ooh'd excitedly. A spark jumped in the darkness, then a ball of flames popped into existence. The small woman was lit by the glow instantly, squawking in alarm as she bounced the small fire back and forth like a hot potato in her hands before finally throwing it forward.

Light blossomed from the mouth of a stove that put his own to shame. Twice the size and squared to match the cooking surface to the marble countertops on either side, there were even chambers for baking. Just like the torches and the stove back home, it seemed to have the burning stones in place of oil or wood.

As heat began to radiate from the stove, wall sconces holding reflective chambers started lighting up on their own. It was like life was slowly returning to the room around them. Shadows receded, revealing dusty shelves and cobwebbed cabinets, rust covered pots and pans, clay pots cracked and empty. One corner of the room was filled by the skeletal remains of a withered potted tree.

The room was cluttered with urns and broken clay pottery, loose soil and withered plants. What probably began life as a kitchen had been converted halfway into a garden shed. Dusty glass jars took up space where food and spiced likely would have been, though most their contents had reduced to crumbled bits and twigs inside. A large basin the size of a bath was built directly into the stone walls, with a strange creature's face carved in gray marble overlooking it. Shelves and a large cabinet took the remaining wall space, cluttered with empty jars, books, and boxes.

Though time had clearly left its mark, it had been much gentler here than outside in the dungeon. The layers of dust were light, and when he picked up a bound stack of papers it didn't crumble immediately when he touched it. Yet another curious aspect of the Dungeon to keep in mind.

At just a quick study, it was clear the room was full of quality of life improvements, but his tools for adventuring were reaching their limits. They had no real armor to speak of, and the shield would only last so much longer. The mace was utterly useless against a fiend like the one they'd just escaped. They needed some proper adventure loot!

The last occupant had to have had some kind of gear...unless they died in it. Hogarth swore softly, hoping there was something useful here they could still use.

"Hogarth! Lemme see!" Lug tugged not so gently at his hand, making his arm flare with the reminder of his injuries. Luckily for him, the lady of the group had been searching in more productive ways. "Whoever here, they had good thinkin'. Full of green tricks, this place."

Hogarth knelt and Lug peeled off the layers of his shirt and cloth that'd been stuffed inside, the fabric soaked in an uncomfortably large amount of blood. She splashed a little water from the skin to clear away some of the blood, then produced a needle she threaded with strands of her own hair to begin stitching. He winced with each prick of the point, while she hummed and sewed every cut closed. When she was done, she poured a little more water into a clay jar swished her finger around until it came out covered in something sticky. He'd no reason to doubt her yet, so he let her finish tending to him until his arm was wrapped up with improvised bandages.

"See? Best hearth tender." She smiled proudly at her work. "Will be better soon. Is good mixins here. Some spoilt, some still good. S'a good kitch here."

He grinned, dipping his finger into the jar in her hand to dab some of the brown slime on the bruise forming at the center of her brow. "Well it's yours for however long we end up here. I'm not sure how long it will take to get back upstairs."

Using his uninjured left arm to stand, Hogarth paced the length of the room. He was tired physically, both from the hour and the frantic battle, but he needed to find something before his mind would settle. The cabinet was his last hope.

He gripped the handles, but took a moment to breath and imagine his luck building up before the reveal. Lug tilted her head as she watched him, then left the kitchenware she'd been examining to come stand beside him. When he waited just a moment longer, she gave his hip a little nudge.

Chuckling lightly, he pulled open the doors. He was not disappointed.

The cabinet had been converted into something of a dresser. Shelves were filled with sets of folded clothing, rolled up furs, and small boxes. Best of all however were the weapons lining the inside of the cabinet doors. Leather sheaths held an assortment of unstrung bows, bundles of arrows, and a single lonely short sword.

Hogarth couldn't resist lifting the sword from its resting place and holding it out towards the nearest torchlight. It was a simply made weapon, but he didn't mind. The hilt and pommel held no significant patterns or special engravings. Just solid steel wrapped in a leather grip, and when it pulled from the sheath there wasn't even a single 'shling' sound effect. It was just a sword, but it was flawless, sharp, and now his.

Lug oooh'd softly at his side, leaning into his hip a little as she watched him study the blade. There wasn't a nick or scratch in the metal anywhere along the edges, but it had been cared for all the same. Whatever magic seemed to hold things together had allowed the metal to unblemished. When he was satisfied, he snapped it back into its sheath and turned his attention down to the woman at his side.

"Alright, I'm beat. You find anything to snack on? If not, I'm just gonna pass out in front of the stove for a while."

Lug shook her head, dark hair swishing wildly. "Nuffin fer today, tomorrow I try some green tricks. See what grows. But!" She pulled away and bounced over to the shelves at the end of the kitchen counters. From the bottom compartment she pulled out a bundle of burlap sacks. She unrolled each then began to lay them out in front of the stove. She bustled around him, reaching into the cabinet next to fish out the furs. Some were scarves and ponchos, but that didn't stop her from laying them out on top of the burlap until they had the semblance of a carpet roughly his body length. "Better."

"Great thinking. You're a little genius, Lug." Leaning down, he caught her with his left arm and gave her a soft peck on the lips. Her husky giggles were music as she kissed back, then helped him ease down onto the makeshift bed.

It wasn't peak comfort, but once she was settled on top of him the combined warmth of the fire and her body allowed the weariness he'd been putting off to come crashing down. He was out like a light and more than ready for a good, long rest.

***

"So the last person here was definitely a woman." He observed out loud for Lug to hear, while rummaging through the contents of the cabinet. There was a single, slightly tattered dress that was predominantly sky blue, with white lacework and stitching patterned in the knot-work themes he'd been finding throughout the dungeon. When he held it out, just the skirts alone could have wrapped around Lug's shoulders like a robe.

"She big like you, too." She sniffed a little indignantly, then went back to sorting through the various pots in the room.

Hogarth smirked and went back to rummaging as well. The remaining sets of clothing were all of a more utilitarian design. Pants with patches around the knees and reinforced pads inside the crotch, vests with fur lining and a few pairs of boots. The shirts were cut for a more slender build than his own that tapered for a feminine physique, some with laces and others with miss matching metal buttons.

He also found sewing kits, swaths of undamaged fabric, and a pair of shears. The other boxes contained the small treasures of another life. A brittle lock of brown hair, an ivory comb with a horse carved into the handle, the picture of a man's face that must have been cut from one of the paintings forever ago. A rainbow assortment of beads and broken chains from necklaces, bracelets, charms. There were a few rings, but nothing jumped out at him as having any significance beyond sentiment. Treasure was treasure though, and he was pleased by the results.

***

Meanwhile, Lug was making discoveries of her own.

Whoever it was that lived here before was very clever in the green ways. She could feel the lingering echoes of power that had gone into the care and keeping of her plant collection, most of which now was too far gone to bring back no matter how strong the trick. Some had left behind seeds however, and that was all she needed.

The only problem was the dirt, it was all too dry. The absence of water was the biggest mystery that would need to be solved, because without it none of her spores could sprout and none of the seeds could germinate. What little they carried had been finished off when they woke, meaning they were left with a shrinking window of time to either go back upstairs where there was water, or stay and figure out how the woman from the past got hers.

The basin seemed the obvious place to start, considering it was built with a small drain on the bottom. The marble monster head was too conspicuous not to fiddle with. Whenever a pack took her on as a loot lugger, she always found herself poking around with the strange things the other tribes made. Little gadgets that sang simple melodies, wheels that turned and pulled other wheels when they turned. The bigger tribes and the old forgotten folk made things that looked nice and hid their tricks, and she knew the figurehead was one of them.

So she fiddled. It had open eyes so she tried to close them. Webbed ears or fins stood at either side of its face so he pushed and pulled gently at them. The snout was fit with a metal ring she'd mistaken as part of the marble, the orange torch light making the pale rust blend into the white stone. She gave it a firm tug, and it came down with several links of chain until a heavy clank inside brought it to a stop.

From somewhere in the walls she could hear metal and stone groaning amidst the promising gurgle of moving water. When she focused again on the marble head, she realized the lower jaw had fallen open. "Hogarth! I think we got-" She didn't finish the sentence, because a shriek took over her voice instead.

Ice cold water exploded from the mouth of the statue. Most of it sprayed into the tub, but it came forth with such pressure and loaded with air pockets that it sprayed outwards in a cone. She lost her grip on the ring and instead struggled to cover the spout with her hands.

Hogarth stumbled over to her in an effort to save her, using curses she'd never heard before when the fall aggravated his wounds. He still scrambled to his feet and rushed to her side, overlapping her hands with his own until at last, the flow weakened to a steady drizzle.

"Sorry, boss. I got waters all over." She'd meant that side of the room, but she herself was drenched and shivering. Her normally wild head of hair clung to her face and around her torso, and the laced shirt he'd put on her stuck to her curves. She looked up at him with eyes wide in apology, her split lip poked out in disappointment for the accident. With past pack leaders, they'd never been shy about using violence to correct her mistakes or if something she said or did just annoyed them.

Hogarth didn't do anything like a proper pack leader. He treated her like his hearth tender everywhere they were. He never hit her, never even raised a hand. He talked with her like another female might, joked and played around like a child, seeded her like a hearth lord, then held her as they slept. It was the strangest, yet most exciting time of her life. It deadened the fear of pain and opened an unfamiliar avenue of torment: emotion. Bruises healed, but disappointment? Anger? Disfavor? It was new, scary, exhilarating territory.

Leaning down, Hogarth combed the long locks of hair out of her face and delivered one of his soft mouth kisses, and all was right with the world. "It's alright, s'just a little water. Fucking cold water though, jeeze. C'mon, let's dry off."

Taken by the hand, Lug followed Hogarth back to their little makeshift bed of furs. They took turns peeling off shirts and slipping out of pants, laying them out near the heat of the stove where they could dry. Hogarth sat facing the flames, and with a gentle tug he pulled Lug to sit in his lap. She gathered up her hair and let it cascade over her shoulders like twin waterfalls of ink.

Relaxing back against him, Lug exhaled a comfortable sigh and watched the fire dance through the open slats in the stove. Her mind wandered over the plans she had for the garden she would grow, once the seeds were awakened. They had no meat still, but that wouldn't stop her from making Hogarth hearty vegetable stews and making her big man even stronger. She was optimistic that there were at least a few medicinal plants among what she'd found to brew her own remedies in case of sickness or more injuries. She might even be able to puzzle out some of the creations the last woman who tended the hearth here made. The more green tricks, the better.