The dungeon entrance was a mostly unremarkable depression in the side of the mountain range save for the runes which lined the gigantic door frame and the massive bronze door itself. The only reason I had any confidence in even being able to open the door was the fact that Shrek had such a high Strength stat. Without him, I wasn’t sure even Juniper and I combined would be able to budge the giant metal slab.
Shrek grunted in recognition of the runes.
“Dwarves,” he said.
“Is that good or bad?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“It just is.”
Juniper looked up from her book at us for a moment, but when it was evident we had run out of small talk, she dove back into it. The sun was still teasing its rise above the mountain tops, so she was spending a small amount of mana to summon a sprite who sat cheerfully on the edge of her book. It emitted a soft, constant glow and would occasionally flip the page for her. How the sprite knew that Juniper was ready to have the page flipped in the first place, I had no idea. They didn’t seem to be communicating as far as I could tell, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell with Juniper. The sprite looked at me as though it knew what I was thinking and I swear the little bastard flipped me off before turning the page for Juniper again. But no…there’s no way a sprite would know that gesture. I had to have just misinterpreted a movement because it was so small and I could barely see it from my position on the opposite side of the fire. Right? Yeah, I was going with that explanation. It was a lot more comfortable than the alternative.
“Don’t you sleep?” Shrek grumbled from his bedroll.
“No.”
“Ever?” I asked.
“For what?”
Shrek and I shared a look, and I decided that was as good a time as any to get out of bed and start breakfast. Juniper had kept the fire going all night, so thankfully I didn’t have to embarrass myself by trying to start one without matches. The fires I had set in the beginning of my time here took forever to catch…sometimes they didn’t catch at all. I was more or less just trying to recreate what I’d seen people do on those nudist survival shows. Without the nudity, obviously. Mostly. Anyway, I wasn’t very good at rubbing sticks together, so I was happy that Juniper had kept the fire fed overnight.
I took a look at the open ration crate in my inventory and decided that “Terror Quail Eggs” sounded like it was pretty breakfasty. There was also about five pounds worth of Greater Razorback fat, so I took a bit of that and rendered it down in my pan before adding the eggs. Shrek sat up, suddenly quite interested in what I was up to. Figures. The guy loathed me until there was food involved. I shook my head and added a touch more fat and about half a dozen more eggs to the pan. I looked at Juniper who was actually watching me with interest, but she just shook her head a little forlornly.
As we were finishing up our breakfasts, the little white dot reappeared on my mini map. This time, however, it didn’t disappear. Instead, it started to approach our position. I noticed before anyone else, so when there was rustling in the nearby bushes, I had to motion for Shrek to stay cool. For such a small little thing, the creature was making a pretty big racket. I thought that maybe it was doing it on purpose so that we knew it was coming, but that seemed like more intelligent planning than I was prepared to attribute to a baby ferret…or whatever it was. The rustling grew louder and louder to the point where I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was a bigger beast and the smaller creature had left while we slept when its food source dried up. The leaves thrashed around wildly, reaching a raucous crescendo that brought Shrek to his feet, his hands going to the hilt of his axe. I stood with him, my hand on my pistol. Juniper slowly hovered over to stand beside us. Then, all of a sudden, the racket just…stopped.
I smiled as the little creature shyly stepped out from under the bushes. My only regret was that I didn’t have a camera to be able to savor the look on Shrek’s face when he saw the diminutive ferret-like animal that had riled him enough to be on his guard. He may as well have seen a cow walking on the ceiling while doing a Christopher Walken impression. I knelt down and held out the plate that held what remained of my breakfast. The little guy didn’t move, so I sat the plate on the ground and pushed it forward a couple of feet. It crept toward the plate while keeping a cautious, skeptical eye on the three of us. I triggered Threat Assessment.
That was a surprise…the little fella was more of a threat than I gave him credit for. The System gave him even odds in a fight against me, which meant there was a decent chance this thing could actually kill me. Looking at those stats, I could see why. Between its ridiculous Agility and its tiny size, I’d have a hard time even landing a hit on the thing. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, anyway. It was the cutiest of patooties. I made little pspsps noises and cooed at it, hoping it would come let me pet it.
“What are you doing?” Shrek asked, disgusted.
“Shhh. I want to see if it’ll let me pet it.”
“Just kill the thing and let’s get moving. We’re wasting time.”
He pulled his axe, and I jerked a hand up to stop him. The stoat was inching toward me, its whiskers twitching as it sniffed the air and eventually my hand. It nudged me with its tiny little nose and I almost squee’d like a little girl. Had Shrek not been standing behind me with an axe in his hand, I may have actually done it. I slowly reached a finger up and over its head and lightly scratched behind its ears. It closed its eyes and allowed me to lavish it with introductory skritches. After a moment or two, I stopped and laid my hand palm up on the ground in front of it. It sniffed me again a couple of times, then stepped up onto my hand at which point I damn near lost my shit. I stood up, cupping both hands under the little stoat and displayed it to Juniper and Shrek. Juniper was beaming, likely already planning to get some stories from the stoat. Shrek leaned forward a little to see what all the fuss was about and the stoat leapt from my hand, landed on Shrek’s face and went absolutely apeshit on the orc.
He let out a loud roar and swiped at his face, but the stoat was a blur of fury scratching and biting at him. The stoat dodged every swipe with ease and when I finally snapped out of my stupor at this turn of events, I stepped in and caught the little furball when it was mid-dodge. I caught a backhand from Shrek for my troubles, but the stoat was safely back in my hands. My ears were ringing from the force of the strike and even still I could hear the angry chattering the stoat directed at Shrek.
“Give that damn thing to me!” Shrek demanded.
“Not happening,” I said, stepping unsteadily backward.
He growled and moved to step toward me but Juniper got between us and put a hand on his chest. I idly wondered where her sprite had gone. I shook my head again. Man, Shrek really rang my bell, I thought. The stoat squirmed out of my hands, ran up my arm and perched on my shoulder. The chattering continued and I moved a few more feet away from Shrek. My senses were returning to normal, so I took a quick peek at my health and then Shrek’s. We had lost approximately the same HP…me from a giant orc slapping me full force in the face and him from a tiny little woodland creature. I expected he wouldn’t be forgetting that blow to his ego anytime soon.
“Come on,” Juniper said. “Let’s get inside.”
I nodded.
“Just keep that thing away from me, or next time I will squish it,” Shrek promised.
He turned and grabbed hold of the dungeon door to open it, and I stuck my tongue out at him while his back was turned. Juniper caught it and gave me a flat look. I shrugged and put on an innocent face. She laughed one brief snort of recognition of my goofiness then rolled her eyes. That was good enough for me. We stood side by side behind Shrek as his muscles strained against the weight of the massive metal door. Watching him slowly march backward as he pulled the door inch by inch made me feel like I was watching Arnold push the Wheel of Pain, only in reverse slow motion. He might be a dick, but I had to give the orc his due: bro was swole.
A thought occurred to me then, and I pulled up my UI screen. I selected Party and then Add Member. I let The System search for anyone nearby who might be addable and within a couple of seconds, there it was: Ember Stoat, Level 12. I sent an invite. The stoat accepted. Shrek stopped pulling the door open and stared at me.
“No.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I will murder you.”
“Not if my Death Weasel murders you first.”
The stoat squeaked and chirped in agreement. Juniper, bless her heart, was standing there looking as though she was reconsidering her life choices. Shrek clenched his fists and yanked the door fully open with one rage-filled tug that had me half convinced he might actually be able rip the damn thing off the hinges if I got him mad enough. He stomped toward the entrance and the smug smile drained from my face as my eyes grew to saucers. I lunged forward just as he was about to cross the threshold and step into the dungeon, grabbing hold of the armor collar at the base of his neck. I yanked him backwards with every ounce of strength I could muster, pulling him off his feet and planting him flat on his back.
He looked up at me incredulously, but that expression soon turned to rage again. He bounced up to his feet and shoved me backward. I bounced back a few feet, but Pathfinder Treads kept me from stumbling. I held both my hands up and yelled for him to stop as loudly as I could, hoping to snap some sense into him. He paused.
“Look!” I said, pointing toward the door. “What do you see there, on the floor?”
“Bones. Yours will join them momentarily if you don’t explain yourself.”
“Yes, bones. PEOPLE bones…those are called skeletons,” I explained, as though I were speaking to a toddler. “Why are there skeletons all piled up at the entrance of the dungeon, do you think?”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. He would have just said something stupid, anyway.
“It’s booby trapped. The very first step you take into this dungeon can kill you, if you just traipse in there like an idiot. Let me try to disarm the thing before you get us all killed.”
Shrek stood silently, seeming to deliberate in that tiny brain of his whether I was lying, and came to the conclusion that I wasn’t. He glared at me for a long moment. His mouth moved as though he were chewing something distasteful. Then without a word, he stepped aside to give me space. I imagined his calculus went like this: if I tried to disarm it and failed, I’d likely die and he would go home to break the news to mommy…which was an acceptable outcome. If I succeeded, he could enter the dungeon safely, which was also an acceptable outcome. The only question left now was the same one that I was asking – could I actually pull it off?