Rocks Fall, Everybody Dies

Four stone tiled walls locked around them. An identical ceiling and floor finished the trap. The walls were identical to the next, matching only the ceiling and floor. If one were to somehow walk on the walls they would think it were the floor. For no feature on these cold stone walls spoke of a way out. No trace of a door nor breeze flew through a false opening. The trap had been set and sprung. The enclosed room was filled with darkness and only the noise of the shuffling of four grizzled Dwarven adventures within. They had shared many a quest with each other, many a coin and many a tankard. But they did not desire to share a tomb together.

Rocky ran her calloused hands along the walls. Her muscular frame moving with a dexterous tenderness as her fingers scanned for any indentations of a hidden switch. Despite being the muscle, her years as a safe cracker had given her some talented skills.

“Still nothing!” she barked back at the others. She gazed over her shoulder, “Darrien, what about you?”

Darrien Greenbeard’s moss covered head bent low and to the ground as he placed an ear to the cold tile floor. “I cannot hear anything on the other side.” The druid said. He then hummed a deep tone in his throat, reciting a question out in Stone Speech to the cold unmoving tiles. His green eyes opened to the party, “The stones have nothing to say.”

Stepping into the middle of the room with his blue and silver robes swashing, Toga brought his staff close, “What mortal eyes cannot see, my arcane light will reveal.” With a magical whisper, he lifted the staff into the air and a bright blue light radiated. Its light waves washed over the tiles revealing…nothing.

“Hm, really? That normally does something,” the wizard muttered.

“Freight not friends!” spoke a deep chested dwarf. Clad in shining armor and a majestic white beard, Prince Ironbeard IX, last of his royal bloodline, sworn avenger of his throne, stepped forward. “Just as I shall have my vengeance upon that cursed dragon who destroyed my kingdom, I swear that we will be triumphant here. This fortress of a mystery still has yet to give up its secrets, but with enough teamwork our camaraderie will bring its gates down!”

The three stared dumbfounded at their heavily armored companion. Darrien spoke, “Really, that’s it? You’re not going to do a check of some kind?”

Ironbeard considered this with a weathered brow, “Hmm, not sure what I could do. Perhaps a rousing tale to inspire your spirits?”

And so, the last of the Ironbeard line told the tale of the Great Undead Boar Hunt. An exhilarating tale no doubt, if it wasn’t for the fact that the three others had already heard it before, because they were there to witness it. And they mumbled whispered corrections to themselves on each of Ironbeard’s boast. Especially on that line where he definitely was not the one to slay the creature. Though this never crossed Ironbeard’s mind then or later when he decided to tale them the tale of the Great Undead Cow Hunt, which all three of them were there for too.

The three continued to work through Ironbeard’s great tale. Toga cast more spells of identification and conjuration, Darrien consulted the spirits of his ancestors, and Rocky remained fixed on finding a hidden lever or switch.

At the end of the Great Undead Mouse Hunt that Ended Tragically-An Ode to Sir Tom, the three dwarves joined their rousing friend in the middle of the room. Four sets of tired eyes looked around at each other.

“This is some bullshit,” Rocky said.

“Hm, indeed, it seems that we have fallen into a trap that has far exceeded our expectations. Perhaps there is something we have missed,” Darrien pondered.

“No this is some Grade A bullshit. We’re supposed to be having fun. Not standing around with our dicks in each other’s hands,” she suddenly shouts up to the ceiling, “But I guess SOMEONE JUST HAS TO BE AN ASSHOLE!”

Toga raised a brow, “Wait, are you saying this or is your character saying this?”

Sharon pushed back in her seat, the metal folding chair screeching against the concrete floor of the basement that reaked of beer, chips and weed. “I’M saying this,” her eyes moved from the three other players at the table to a long-haired man at the end of it. “Marc, this is bullshit.”

Sitting behind his game screen that depicted a Warlock of the Old One warding off the majestic Fire breath of an Ancient Red Dragon, Marc sighed and peered over at the other three players. “Don’t tell me the three of you are feeling the same too?”

David, Carlos, and Emily gazed at each other, and then looked back at Marc.

“I mean, it does seem like we’ve exhausted all of our options,” David stated. Sharon gesticulated wildly at David, as if the man had just spoken the meaning of life, all the while her eyes glared at their Game Master.

Marc sighed as he brushed a strand of hair from his brow, “What about the bard in the tavern?”

Sharon squinted, “What about-Oh gods, don’t tell me he was supposed to come along,”

“No but do you remember the song he played?”

“Of course not! Was it important?”

“Well it might be if you want to get out of this room alive…”

Sharon threw her arms up, “Are you fucking serious? Just tell us what it is again.”

Marc sat back, matching her fiery gaze with a cool one, “No. I put in the work to make it, so you all need to put in the work to find it out. Maybe one of you should’ve been taking notes.”

Before Sharon could even think to throw a beer can at him, David was rustling through his papers and said, “I have written here in our journal that the bard sang a sad song, but that was it. Did it say anything about this dungeon specifically?”

“Well, no, not exactly…”

Sharon’s hand was tightening around her beer can before Emily perked up, “Would Ironbeard remember it?”

“Yeah he does like stories,” Carlos said over his phone.

“That does make sense,” David agreed with an appealing look to their GM.

Marc sighed, “Give me a history roll.”

The dice rattled in Emily’s tray, she popped up with a grin, “25!”

Prince Ironbeard IX, sworn future slayer of the Great Dragon Smog, cleared his mighty throat before bellowing out the bard’s song of old remembrance, of long-lost flame. Of a friend reaching out to another in the darkness. It was incredibly out of tune and the wizard made sure he knew that.

But alas, suddenly from thin air, a lever appeared. Right before Ironbeard. The prince reached an iron gauntlet out to grasp it-

“Wait,” Rocky stated. She quickly inspected the lever, no traps. But still something felt off. “We shouldn’t pull it. Something’s off.”

“How do you know?” the druid inquired curiously.

Rocky stared up at the ceiling, as if eyeballing god. “I can just feel it.”

Toga sighed, “Alright maybe I can cast another identification spell, but I’ve already used up so many spell slots-“

“FORTUNE FAVORS THE BOLD!” Ironbeard exclaimed to the gods as he pulled the lever.

The three dwarves watched as the floor gave way and the great mighty Prince Ironbeard IX, last of his line and sworn avenger, plummeted into a pit of acid.

“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” Ironbeard screamed as he struggled to swim whilst melting away with pops and hisses.

Rocky barely managed to dive back, reaching out to grasp the last remnant ledge of the floor and dangled there. Her fingers struggling to keep herself held. Toga had managed to cast a spell of Levitation on himself and Darrien morphed into startled robin. Rocky gazed down at her flailing comrade, and then death glared up at the ceiling.

“This is bullshit!” she shouted.

“AVENGE ME COMRADES!”

“No Emily, we’re not roleplaying anymore!” Sharon smacks his fist on the table as she stands, sending the four miniatures into a rocky little dance along the gridded map. Her glare returned to Marc who sat undisturbed behind his screen. “I knew you’d pull some bullshit like this! Like what the hell is wrong with you?”

Marc looked at her quizzically, as if uncertain if she’s speaking English.

Sharon almost chucks the cooler by her feet at him but instead continues, “You force so much lore and weird narration on us in the town, then you have us going at a SNAILS pace through this fucking dungeon, and then you trap us in an inescapable room where the only solution is remembering some ‘cool’ lore fact your dropped on us SEVEN SESSIONS AGO. Like did you forget how to have fun? Like seriously, did you? Because I really hate spending what little free weekend nights I have just drilling my fingers into my eyes out of straight boredom!”

Marc’s eyes narrowed, “Then don’t come.”

Sharon’s teeth bared, as she extended both arms out dramatically, “Fine! I won’t!” With that, she stormed out of the basement.

The cool outside air welcomes her with a chilling embrace. Pacing heavily along the outside patio before resting along one of the wooden columns of the patio. She lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. Exhaling a long stream of smoke, she watches as a face materializes out of it.

“Things got heated down there, you okay?” David asked as he leaned against the opposite column.

Emily huffed, “Yeah sorry, I shouldn’t have made such a big scene like that. I should’ve just got up and walked away but he can be such an asshole about things…”

“Yeah,” David muttered. His gaze lingered on her.

Sharon paused between drags and stared back, “What?”

“You know we’ve all moved on, right? And by ‘we’ I mean Carlos, Emily and myself. We’ve all moved on. I mean I appreciate you trying to keep us all hanging out together and keeping our hobby of RPing together, but I’ve got so many DnD campaigns going on I’m not hurting for another. Carlos just wants a night away from the kids, and Emily just doesn’t like to get high alone. We don’t have to play this we can do something else.”

Sharon sighs, “No we can’t just let Marc have his way, these sessions used to be fun!”

“Yeah, just like you and Marc used to be fun.”

Sharon’s eyes narrow, giving off a keen warning, “Okay if you got something to say-“

“You bring back an old character that used to have an in-character relationship with one of Marc’s NPCs top adventure in this campaign that a continuation of an older one we used to play back when we were teenagers. Marc even features a song about looking for a lost friend in the dark and has that as a solution to-I’ll admit it-a ridiculous puzzle. Do you not see what’s going on here?”

Arms folded across her chest like a shield; Sharon’s eyes can’t help but drift off into the neighborhood street ahead. “Enlighten me.”

“You and Marc still haven’t gotten over each other.”

She snorts, “What are you talking about? We broke up years ago, there’s nothing to get over.”

“Yes, years ago, and yet you bring back the character that you in-gamed asked him out with, and he’s pulled us into this campaign that was our favorite back in middle school, and then there was that song the bard sang about a long lost love? The two of you clearly have some more talking to do,”

Sharon just growled as she continued to observe the empty street. She thought if she puffed out enough smoke David would dematerialize just as quickly as he came, but to no avail as her middle school friend leaned closer to her. “Look I’m definitely not advocating for you guys to get back together. Nor am I saying the two of you should forgive or ask for forgiveness. I’m just saying to talk? You know, sometimes under all those layers you’ve built over the years, maybe there’s still something hidden in there? And for what its worth, I really want to hang out with my two best friends again without all of this under the surface crap. So just…talk it out. But maybe first let’s try to get through this session? Afterall I think we owe Ironbeard VIII that much at least. He did give his life for us and all.”

“Ironbeard IX,” Sharon corrected.

“Oh right, genuinely forgot. Well, unlike the eight other ones he might actually be the last in line so we owe him this at least.”

With that, David leaves to give her a moment. Sharon continues to stare for a good moment more, now thinking that if she exhales enough smoke that everything she’s feeling will also dematerialize. Instead, she puts the e-cig away and walks back into the house, and down into the dungeon like basement.

Slowly Sharon makes the descent back into the basement and into the dungeon. She catches Carlos on his phone checking in on the sitter, Emily is pitching Ironbeard IX’s lost bastard child, Ironbeard X to David, and Marc is sitting idly behind his screen lost in thought.

As she stares at him, she sees the middle school scrawny kid that she used to protect from his bullies, and then the high school hunk who comforted her and wiped the tears from her eyes. She sees the nervous young man as the two of them plan their college courses, giddy and afraid of the future. She feels his sweaty palms on her hands as they dance, her sweaty ones on his back as they embrace. She sees their combined joy and heartbreak in them. She sees many more layers, but underneath it all, she sees a friend.

Marc catches her eyes, and she can see an apology forming on his face. He goes to speak but she silences him before he sits down. She sits down at the table, “Alright, so Ironbeard is dead, there is still no doorway out, but what about underneath the false flooring. Darrien, can you fly down and see if there’s a door or a latch underneath there?”

David smiles, “Let’s see..”

In his robin flight, Darrien flies down below the swinging latches of the false flooring and indeed spots a tunnel.

“There’s a secret way out!” he chirps.

“Great, Toga, extend that spell over to me and we’ll see if we can’t grab Ironbeard’s sword to pass on to one of his bastard kids he no doubt has romping about.”

“Too many to count!” Ironbeard’s ghastly whispers trail through the acidic air.

The three dwarves make it through the dungeon, finding treasure that they did not expect to find. Through it all there was much joy, and many more tales that the great Ironbeard could have told but his comrades will have to tell for him.

At the end of the night, Sharon lingers as three of the friends leave up the steps.

“Sorry,” Marc says.

Sharon chuckles, “Me too. I actually did remember that song, I just felt like being an ass.”

Marc laughs, “No, it was convoluted, I’m surprised you remembered it.”

“Nah, it was actually a pretty good song. But now I don’t know if I can imagine it without Emily belting it out in his dwarven gruff,” Sharon chuckles and Marc laughs harder.

Marc laughs harder, “Yeah, she told me the next Ironbeard is going to half dwarf, half dragonborn.”

“Oh like the offspring of him and that dragon he’s always trying to kill?”

“Probably something like that,” Marc said.

Sharon gazed up at the staircase, then back at Marc, “So uh, what to get out of here and talk?”

She could see the changing expressions on his face, of him wanting to say ‘yes’ but also the fear of what that would lead to and trying to find an excuse to say ‘no’. Yet as she had felt her own barriers come down at the sight of him before, she also saw them shaking off of him.

In that moment, in that shared exchange, there was a glimpse of hope out of their shared darkness.

Marc smiled, “Grab a drink?”

“Sounds like an adventure.”