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- Jan 5, 2011
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Dank, dark, and gloomy, the battlefield shaped like a dungeon isn't the first choice for most of the warriors invited to fight in the tournament of champions. Cramped corridors made up of wet, dark gray stone walls dimly lit by lightstones are the norm in the dungeons, and they stretch out seemingly forever in a nearly impossible to navigate spiderweb. The only way to for a person to distinguish between the otherwise seemingly identical passageways and find their way comes in the form of the occasional barred cell, shackles on the wall, and the presence of torture devices such as iron maidens, wooden horses, and spiked walls. And, more recently, there are rumors that a dark presence has taken up residence in the dungeon. Otherworldly monsters have begun lurking in the shadows and striking out at the unwary, led by an evil beast who commits unknown tortures and then wipes the memories of all who lose in this place before they reappear in the feast hall.
But the truth is that the would-be goddess of war knows the perpetrators and their deeds, and while she could put an end to them she simply doesn't. Their presence is intentional, and the fear they inspire is desirable for her purposes. In a realm where the dead don't stay dead, things get stale as her guests acclimate and learn that they're free of lasting harm. The dungeons are how she sorts the warriors who are truly brave from the ones using their immortality as a replacement for real courage. She keeps an interested watch on those brash enough to venture into the dungeons despite the the growing rumors relating to the terrors she's populated it with and keeps careful track of each and every one of them with the skill to prevail against the odds, for they are sure to eventually be counted among her favored.
On the floor of one of the larger dungeon cells -- a square, twenty-by-twenty windowless room made of the same damp gray stone walls -- sat one of the dungeon's terrors with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. She was prepared for battle, clad in darksteel scale mail with a blackened greatsword laid across her lap as her cold, green eyes watched for any signs of trespassers. Between brief, violent battles it was where she always was. It was her post, and she never left it. Any would-be heroes who made it through the other lurking horrors had to deal with her to proceed any further toward the one who commanded her, and thus far none had overcome her skill with a sword.
In truth, she was a concept created by the goddess of war based on the possibilities found in the memories of one of the realm's guests. The woman's true self was a faerie knight who only fought for what she believed were noble ends, but this being was a wicked subversion of that. The person haunting the dungeons was little more than the realm's goddess creating a shade -- one which believed she was truly alive -- based on a path where the woman had fallen from her path. The warped caricature now served the installed master of the dungeon, attacking any who showed themselves to her without remorse or mercy. And when she won, she took her own prizes from the defeated and drug them off to her master. And it was a routine that she expected to repeat many more times to come.
(Had a dumb idea and decided to go for it it. Open to any challengers. Expect to fight a high XP opponent with highly enchanted equipment who's not really holding back.)
But the truth is that the would-be goddess of war knows the perpetrators and their deeds, and while she could put an end to them she simply doesn't. Their presence is intentional, and the fear they inspire is desirable for her purposes. In a realm where the dead don't stay dead, things get stale as her guests acclimate and learn that they're free of lasting harm. The dungeons are how she sorts the warriors who are truly brave from the ones using their immortality as a replacement for real courage. She keeps an interested watch on those brash enough to venture into the dungeons despite the the growing rumors relating to the terrors she's populated it with and keeps careful track of each and every one of them with the skill to prevail against the odds, for they are sure to eventually be counted among her favored.
~~~
On the floor of one of the larger dungeon cells -- a square, twenty-by-twenty windowless room made of the same damp gray stone walls -- sat one of the dungeon's terrors with her legs crossed and her back against the wall. She was prepared for battle, clad in darksteel scale mail with a blackened greatsword laid across her lap as her cold, green eyes watched for any signs of trespassers. Between brief, violent battles it was where she always was. It was her post, and she never left it. Any would-be heroes who made it through the other lurking horrors had to deal with her to proceed any further toward the one who commanded her, and thus far none had overcome her skill with a sword.
In truth, she was a concept created by the goddess of war based on the possibilities found in the memories of one of the realm's guests. The woman's true self was a faerie knight who only fought for what she believed were noble ends, but this being was a wicked subversion of that. The person haunting the dungeons was little more than the realm's goddess creating a shade -- one which believed she was truly alive -- based on a path where the woman had fallen from her path. The warped caricature now served the installed master of the dungeon, attacking any who showed themselves to her without remorse or mercy. And when she won, she took her own prizes from the defeated and drug them off to her master. And it was a routine that she expected to repeat many more times to come.
(Had a dumb idea and decided to go for it it. Open to any challengers. Expect to fight a high XP opponent with highly enchanted equipment who's not really holding back.)