“No no no no no! They shouldn’t be here - Why are they here?” A tall, thin man cursed from beneath the dark hood that covered his face. The others had made fun of him for wearing the hood - said it was too ‘cliché’, and he was just ‘feeding into the cultist stereotype.’
Well, shows what they knew. He’d tried to warn them about the group sniffing around at the hunters guild, but did they listen? No, of course they didn’t. They were so sure their ‘guardian’ would protect them, they never bothered to put even the slightest of protections in place.
But he did. He’d given all the workers bracelets enchanted with the alert spell and given them strict instruction that, in the event the alarm ward he’d placed at the door was triggered, they should immediately head to the hunters Guild and make an emergency request, asking specifically for the guardian to respond.
This way they would have a record of the rats sneaking around their property, and they could also request for reinforcements to deal with the problem... Provided the workers had actually listened to him and they made it to the guild in time.
He looked down at the melon sized purple stone on the floor at his feet. This was the key, literally, to opening the dungeon. He had to protect it at all costs, which was why he’d stole it out from under his partners’ noses and hid with it the moment they triggered the alarm. They’d refused to listen to him, mocked him, and that little shit Grady had stolen his lunch a couple of days ago and never paid him back for it.
So, fuck em.
He could hear the battle raging on less than a hundred feet away. But he didn’t care. Either his compatriots would be victorious, and they would complete the ritual, or the hunters would kill them, and he would sneak out the secret back entrance with the key while they were distracted. Either way, there was no point to him risking his neck for those assholes.
After a few minutes, the sounds of battle waned. And the cultist had to strain his hearing to pick up even the slightest of sounds from his hiding spot behind a few large boxes, on top of one of the many thirty-foot-high storage racks that lined three of the four walls of the main room.
The main room - hell, this entire warehouse had been specifically built for this purpose. His superiors had spent hundreds of platinum coins to get it constructed in the years leading up to this ritual. And the inside was purposefully smaller than the outside would lead the casual observer to believe.
Once you pass to the front door, there were a series of false rooms leading off the main corridor. And almost none of them were finished. They didn’t need to be. Only this, the main room, had been completed. 10,000 ft.² of open space, save for the large shelves that lined three of the four walls. Twenty-five magic bulbs lit the room from the fifty-foot ceiling, but even with all of those bulbs on at once, the room was barely lit. There was only enough light for them to complete their work safely and accurately. Any more light than that and they’d have trouble once they got the dungeon open.
Demons didn’t do so well in bright light. It wouldn’t kill them or anything, but the light stung their eyes, and they didn’t need to give the demons another reason to want to eat them.
He’d chosen one of the storage racks farthest from the only ‘visible’ entrance. So, if he dared risk it, he could’ve had a good view of the entire battle. But instead of watching the battle, he knew the safest thing to do would be to keep his head down and wait... But now that the battle was over, and only silence remained, the curiosity was gnawing at him.
Surely a quick peek wouldn’t hurt? There was no way they were looking in his direction. The others might not have been combat experts, but they could hold their own against monsters well enough. Surely, they’d have been able to tire the hunters out - but what if they’d won and the hunters lay dead? Would they punish him for fleeing before the battle? Would they punish him for wasting his Lord’s time by not coming out immediately, and thus delaying the ritual?
With a nervous grin on his face, the cultist rose to his full height and peered over the top of the boxes he’d been hiding behind - He came eye to beak with a pitch-black raven that was purchased atop the box.
The raven gave him a slow blink, then let out a cry loud enough to make his ears ring and his head ache. Like someone had jammed an ice pick through his temple. Dizziness and disorientation followed the pain, and he had to catch himself on the box to avoid falling to his knees.
“Shriek of the death bird? Really? I didn’t think anyone used that spell anymore.” He shook his head to clear it, pulled a three-inch dagger out of his belt, and pressed the blade against his arm. “Through the oath of blood, I call upon the power of Bozzen; Viscount of the Misty Castle. Your servant requires aid O dark one: spatial step.” A veil of blue mist sprung from the cultist’s back while he scooped up the purple sphere and, like a hungry beast, swallowed him in a single bite. Once the cultist’s body was gone, the mist dove into the wall behind the storage rack, easily phasing through the wooden planks and vanishing with the cultist.
Seconds after the cultist disappeared, Sulika and Oladi arrived at the foot of the storage rack. “Where did he go?” Sulika shouted.
“Gray saw him over here, but he spatial stepped through the back wall.”
“Then we need to go after him. My research said the purple orb is supposed to be the key to this whole ritual, and it wasn’t with the other cultists.”
“What if it’s just hidden nearby?”
“Do you have enough mana to summon another familiar?”
“Of course.”
“Then summon one and the three of you should search the warehouse from top to bottom. If it's here, I want you to find it and take it back to The Fancy Dryad. Catch up to us soon as you can.” Sulika jogged back to the center of the main room, leaving Oladi to accomplish her tasks.
She found the guys in the middle of searching the cultists’ bodies... Well, looting would be the technical term for what they were doing. But in their line of work, they were technically the same thing. Hunters made most of their money from selling off the ‘treasures’ they found after a battle.
The three men were haggard looking, their weapons and armor splashed with red - some of it theirs, but most belong to their enemy. Still, it was clear they wanted a break.
She almost felt bad telling them they had to now chase a frightened cultist through the city... Almost.
Sulika was glad they waited until nightfall before attacking the warehouse. They didn’t need any civilians getting involved in this mess. Especially with the last cultist running the streets. Who knew what he would do in this situation - he could take a hostage, hold up in some back alley where no one could find him, or even flee the city under the cover of darkness.
Sulika only knew one thing for certain. If he got away tonight, he would try again. And next time, they might not have enough warning to do anything about it.
“There!” Zarud whispered, while running along behind Sulika and the others. His great height gave him a much better vantage point from which to see the cultist hiding beside the dumpster in a nearby alley.
The cultist reacted to Zarud’s warning and immediately made a run for it.
“Oh, no you don’t - Divnas: Trace.” Sulika pointed her wand at the cultist’s back at the exact moment she finished her spell. A violet light spring forth from the tip of her wand and splashed against the cultist’s hood.
The cultist reached the end of the alley and sprinted round the corner, temporarily vanishing from sight. But Sulika only smiled. As the cultist ran, he left a visible trail of violet light hovering in the air behind him. The light was only visible to the caster of ‘trace’, so it was the perfect spell for hunting down elusive jackasses - both humanoid and donkeys alike.
Unfortunately, the trail wasn’t permanent. They had a ten-minute window in which to catch him or refresh the spell, otherwise the light would disappear, and they can lose him amidst the sprawling city of Azuris.
The chase led them a few miles from the warehouse. Which surprised Sulika; most spell casters didn’t take care of their bodies and ended up with far less stamina than the average adventurer - and in most cases, the average civilian.
Sulika was a bit of an anomaly in that regard. But her ability to run had more to do with her race than with her training regimen. Her people love to run, to be free. As a child, she would run for hours through the fields and forests of her home with the other children of her family... But that was impossible now.
After what felt like twenty minutes of sprinting like their life depended on it. Sulika noticed the cultist was no longer running as fast. Which was good timing, since Derrick, with his stubby dwarf legs, looked like he was about to keel over at any second.
The cultist rounded another corner - Sulika heard a crash, which was immediately followed by the sound of glass being broken.
“No!” she heard a man shout.
Sulika put her head down and sprinted as hard as she could. She reached the corner in only a couple of seconds and rounded it to find the cultist on his knees. And by looking over his shoulder, Sulika could see the purple orb shattered on the ground in front of him - a dense purple smog was pouring out of the old and collecting in the air above the cultist’s head.
“What have you done?” Sulika asked the cultist while staring at the portal that was forming before her very eyes.
The cultist flinched at her tone and pulled his hood down tightly over his head. “What have I done? What have you done!?” the cultist hollered in a demented tone. “A year of planning, gone, wasted.”
“You need to stop this, now-”
“I can’t stop it!” The cultist shouted while climbing to his feet and stepping towards the portal. “The ritual you interrupted was so we could control the portal. With it, not only could we control when and where it opened, but this orb was meant to allow us to control which dungeon it connected to. Now that it’s broken, and the ritual left incomplete, there’s nothing I can do... There’s nothing you can do either.” He said, his voice breaking as he finished speaking.
He stepped into the portal without looking back.
“Don’t!” Sulika shouted, but it was too late. The cultist had already gone beyond the threshold and entered the dungeon. “God damnit.” Sulika kicked a nearby trashcan out of frustration and rounded on her team. “We need to go after him. And if we can’t talk him into closing the dungeon on his own, or if he’s really unable to, then we’ll need to shut the portal down ourselves. Are you guys with me?”
“Do you even need to ask?” Derrik asked with a white knuckled grip on his hammer.
Sulika looked at Ralocan, then Zarud. And wasn’t surprised when both of them nodded their agreement. She had a feeling they would’ve gone with her even if she didn’t ask, but she also would’ve felt guilty if she hadn’t given them an out.
“What about Oladi?” Zarud asked.
“Ralocan will leave a message for her on that wall.” Sulika pointed to the adjacent wall. “Tell her not to follow us into the dungeon. Instead, she should return to the Guild and let them know a dungeon break is happening. Hopefully, they’ll listen to her.” Sulika said, though she grumbled the last part under her breath.
She drew her sword and her wand once again and stepped towards the portal. As she approached, the color of the portal changed from purple to black, and her stomach dropped into her feet. “If anyone out there is actually listening... We’re going to need a miracle to make it through this alive. Please, even if I don’t make it back to this side, let my team return safely. They don’t deserve to die just because they followed me.” Sulika said, praying to whatever god would listen. With one final breath of fresh air, she stepped past the threshold and entered the dungeon.
