Dungeon Hunt 

     “Sweaty, poorly prepared SWM in search of large hole potentially filled with various and sundry methods of death and destruction.” Roland mutters under his breath as he moves quietly through the trees of the forest on the eastern side of town which turns out is cleverly named the Eastern Forest.  

    “Somebody’s naming sense really sucks,” he grumbles. The original plan had been to follow the Jerin back home to the dungeon since Kani had said they were dungeon beasts. 

However, they were nowhere to be found once Roland entered the forest. Instead, he was almost immediately beset by a horde of little green men. Little, bitey green men, to be more exact. “Goblins! Fan-freaking-tastic! Instead of disgusting giant rats, now it’s goblins. Little pests. They’re so blasted stupid and weak that a child can take one down. They will freaking kamikaze themselves on a dinner fork. Idiots.” 

     Roland continues to mutter to himself as he cuts a wide swathe through the teeming swarm. He moves deeper into the forest without seeing any larger predators, but he is not quite able to shake the feeling that he’s being watched. 

     As he moves forward, he catches a glimpse of a large, dark something stalking him from the shadows. “That is not a goblin. That is most definitely not a goblin.” Roland mutters under his breath.  He pretends to be unaware of the creature as he continues to hack and slash the last few remaining members of the goblin swarm. Once there is nothing left of them but a pile of small, green corpses, he quickly extends all of his senses to focus on his surroundings. 

     Fortunately, he does so just in the nick of time, and he feels the change in the air as the shadow thing leaps for his neck. Dropping to the ground to dodge its lunge, he still feels a sharp, burning pain in his scalp as razor claws scrape across his head. With blood trickling down his neck, Roland bounces up and gets his first look at the thing. Dark, silky fur; intelligent, amber eyes; and teeth, lots and lots of teeth. It comes at him again, slashing left and right, nearly yanking his arms from the sockets as it swats his hatchet from his hand. Roland pulls the short knife from his belt. It really isn't meant to be a weapon, unless what you’re fighting is a steak, but beggars and choices and all that jazz. Roland moves forward again, closing in on the creature. He manages a shallow cut across a large paw as he intercepts another attempted slash. 

“Okay, it’s not stronger than me but it’s a lot faster. I still have one potion left so I can at least heal up after. Let’s get in close and try and blind it.” Roland throws his knife at the creature’s face as it leaps forward. In a moment of pure, unadulterated luck, the blade scores a direct hit across one eye. The creature emits a bloodcurdling scream, sounding for all the world like a human woman in agony. Landing, it immediately pounces at him again. Roland jumps forward as well, balling his fist up and driving it hard into the things throat. His luck continues to hold, and he’s rewarded with the dull sound of flesh striking flesh as the thing begins making wet gagging noises like a cat with a hairball. Taking advantage of its momentary distraction, Roland wraps his arms around its throat and pulls back hard. The monster goes berserk, lashing out in all directions, rolling over on top of him, and generally trying to get free in any way that it can. Roland holds on with a death grip, knowing if he lets go he will be dead seconds later. The beast slowly begins to weaken and after several heart pounding minutes, it drops unconscious. Roland drags himself wearily to his feet and finds his hatchet stuck in the ground a few feet away. Walking slowly back, he brings the hatchet down hard on the monster’s skull splitting it open and ending the fight for good. Grabbing the last potion from his bag he swallows quickly letting the bitter tincture begin its work. “Damn, busted ribs hurt,” he says. 

    Looking more closely at the monster, Roland sees that it really is an oversized cat with sleek dark fur, long claws, and about a thousand teeth. “How many teeth does one mouth really need?” he mutters. Roland slowly cuts the heart from its chest his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting it. He bites down and it somehow reminds him of damp, stormy nights and deep shadows. The feeling of the beasts form settle into his mind. And he smiled in satisfaction. 

     “Okay, new plan time-head back to the guild, find some more people, try to figure out what, exactly, I just fought, and avoid getting eaten on the way. Now where’s my knife?”

—

“Horn, long story short, I need your help.” Roland sat with his head down watching Horn power his way through another meal of epic portions. 

“With what?” 

“So, I found evidence of a dungeon and the guild gave me first shot at investigating it, only now there’s way too many monsters for me to handle alone, and I don’t really have the skill set for this yet, and I could really use an experienced adventurer, like you, to help me with my  first dungeon raid.” Roland looks at Horn pitifully trying to use his best lost waif face. 

“Okay, okay. Stop that, you look like a lost puppy. I’m in, but I want first pick from the loot and no arguing with me. Took me three hours to get you to take the basics course for the guild, and it looks like it may have saved your butt at least once.” 

     “You were right about that, okay. By the way, next time you recommend a quest please make sure I don’t have to fight giant rats. Pretty, please.”

     Horn just grunts and rolls his eyes before answering, “Sure thing. I didn’t know that you were such a delicate little flower when I recommended that quest to you.” Horn heaves his bulk to a standing position and continues, “Well, before we head back out let’s get some things prepped or this may be a shorter trip than either one of us wants. You said a Big black cat jumped you, right?” Roland nods looking around and briefly shifts his head into the cats appearance.

 “Horn shakes his head damn that’s still weird; well that’s a storm leopard.  probably means we’re dealing with a younger dungeon. Well that and the Jerin anyway. We’re gonna need some antidotes and some more healing potions since I assume you used yours up.”

     Horn stretches, slams back the rest of his ale, and moves off towards the door of the guild. 

“How can he eat like that and not be all fat?” Roland thinks walking out of the guild hall and next door to the dirt yard that serves as training grounds for the guild members. 

“Hey, Roland. Come to land in the dirt, again have you?” an old woman cackles to him as he makes his way to a quieter corner of the yard. 

“No, you crazy old bat. I had enough of being thrown around by you the first time, thank you very much. Got a new form to try and control so I’ll take a rain check on the dirt bath.” Settling in and focusing on his breathing he focuses on the knowledge buried in his mind the rat is still there but a new presence lingers also. 

Slowly, small sparks begin to fill his vision as his high perception teases out the bits of essence around him. It feels almost like popping candy on his tongue fizzing in his mouth and ears. Acting on instinct, he draws the feeling into his belly and focuses his nails elongate and sharpen to points with each finger ending in a lethal knife-like protrusion. Dark fur sprouts from his hands and his bones shift as his shape blurs and where the adventurer once stood is a sleek dark cat with lethal claws. 

The old woman cackles again from across the yard. “Damn boy I’d ask to pet you but I’m afraid I’d lose an arm.”

The cat growls and blurs again Roland stands up dusting the dirt from his hands. “it’s hard to control” he mutters “Horn has no problem with controlling his abilities”

     “Well of course not Horn’s good at what he does, boy, but he’s a meathead. He doesn’t have to use the essence like that. It didn’t change him that way. Some of us are delicate manipulators of essence and some of us, like Horn, just keep sucking the stuff up into their bodies getting more solid and stronger the more overflows they experience. You seem to be a hybrid of the two, not really one way or the other, kind of like a monster which makes sense for you I guess.” 

      She steps slowly across the yard talking to him without breaking stride and her eyes sparkle with youth and mirth that shouldn’t be present in a face that old. 

“Your changing your whole form into that of a beast, a whole different set of instincts and senses to go with it. it’s not going to be easy but with practice you may be able to shift just portions of your self like just growing talons or those fangs of yours. 

Roland follows her words, feeling the essence swirl around him. Even here in the city there is more than enough for him to draw on. The energy fills him making his chest warm until he feels almost uncomfortably hot. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops, and he knows that he can’t draw anymore in. Roland again concentrates on his hands and feels the talons emerge.  His hand changing to the dark furred shadow cat. 

     “Alright, so you can make some pointy bits. Now, let’s see if you can use it.” The old woman smiles as she swings at him again falling lightly into a fighting stance and waving Roland forward. 

     He approaches cautiously. She may be old, but this is the same woman that handed him his ass several times over during that week of hell training before she pronounced him barely adequate enough to try and get killed. Roland swipes at her only to have his hands rapped hard with a wooden rod. “When did she pull that out and where from?” he grumbles. 

    While Roland is busy trying to solve the mystery of the baton, Maddie quickly steps into him and twists one arm up and away from herself while bringing the baton sharply down on the other wrist. Roland howls as his whole arm goes numb from fingertips to elbow from the shock of that blow. Maddie bounces perkily away from him with her green eyes laughing in her wrinkled face.

     “Fine, if you want to play dirty then I’m not holding back.” Roland dives for her slashing left, then right, then back across aiming for the hand holding the baton only to feel it sting across his nose. The more Maddie laughs, the madder Roland gets. Eventually, anger gets the best of him and he just gives up of any type of strategic attack and begins attacking on instinct alone. Moving faster and faster, he begins striking with more surety. He comes closer to landing a hit each time. Then blackness. 

     When Roland finally comes back to himself, Maddie has one of his hands pinned on the ground under a boot and the other stopped just short of her eyes with the baton. 

     “Good, job. You do much better when you quit trying to plan and just let your instincts take over, but you lose too much of yourself in that, boy. I estimate you can hold those pointy bits for about 20 minutes in a stand-up fight. You might want to practice using and releasing them while holding onto essence so you can prolong their usefulness but not that wasn’t a bad first go of it. Boy, you may live long enough to give me a real fight someday. Now, go have fun with your dungeon.” 

     Roland shakes his head and tries to slap some of the dirt from his clothes. “Ok, I appreciate the lesson, but I think you’re right. It’s time to go find Horn and get this adventure started.”