Malvorik’s crystal pulsed, steady but alert.
With a soft hum, the dungeon entrance side of the portal opened in a shimmer of light.
Korrm stepped through. The duskgnome tasked with organizing the bathhouse seemed troubled. He tugged his hood back and dusted steam from his sleeves. “Malvorik, we have a problem.”
Korrm shook his head grimly. “Not that. It’s the bathhouse. We’ve got a situation. Revenants.”
“They’ve been loitering across the street for three days now. Four of them, low-level types. Pretending they’re on a ‘stakeout.’ Asking questions. Watching the deliveries. One of them cast a detect illusion spell on the laundry basket. Complete lunatics.”
“They suspect something. One’s convinced it’s a hidden guild headquarters. Another said it’s ‘exactly the kind of place a system event would trigger from.’ There are things like that happening all over the city. There are too many new revenants. All the good quests are taken and many revenants try to either find an ‘exploit’ or some get rich quick scheme. The rest are trying to find ‘secret' quests. The ones hanging out in libraries and taverns are okay, but some are harassing ordinary citizens, breaking into private homes or government institutions, bribing soldiers and house servants for secrets… ”
Malvorik’s crystal pulsed dim red.
Korrm folded his arms. “Herrgylly is coping with it, but it’s getting harder. She served them tea and they tipped her three silvers. That rogue, his name was Vexsteel or something ridiculous, winked and said, ‘Nice guild cover.’”
“Acted as if she thought he asked for an exotic tea brand,” Korrm confirmed. “She even offered to ask her vendors about this ‘Guild Cover’ brand.”
“She lives for it,” Korrm muttered. “But they’ve been starting to test the back doors. I saw one of them check the alley drain for hidden levers.”
Malvorik’s light grew still.
Korrm’s brow rose. “Publicly?”
“We’ve still got that broom closet trap you gave us for testing.”
“The very same. I still don’t get where you got the recipe for that. I am dabbling a bit in alchemy, so I got a few books at the academy. So, I know Confusion Fog is a quite high tier alchemical product.”
Korrm smirked. “I’ll prep it tonight.”
Malvorik’s crystal pulsed once.
Korrm saluted with two fingers and turned to the portal. “I’ll make sure they never want to join the imaginary guild again.”
* * *
It was just after sunset when the four revenants made their move.
They crossed the narrow lane in a crouched, dramatic line, pressing themselves unnecessarily against the bathhouse wall like seasoned infiltrators, despite being in full view of three tavern-goers and a passing lamplighter.
“Alright,” said Vexsteel, the group’s self-declared rogue and leader. “It’s tonight. "This has to be the entrance to the Thieves' Guild. Maybe even an Assassins Guild. I’d stake my life on it."
ManaWhirl nodded solemnly. “I triangulated the surrounding aura with my resonance crystal. There's definitely a powerful enchantment inside.”
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“You licked a wall and said it tasted ‘tingly,’” BunnyRage pointed out.
“That’s an additional part of the analysis,” ManaWhirl replied.
GoblinSlayerRick pointed to the side door where Susi or “Guildmistress Susi,” as they called her, had just disappeared pushing a laundry cart.
“There. That’s the access corridor. She went down with the tea tray. No one's seen her since.”
Vexsteel gave the signal. They moved.
Inside the bathhouse, the air was warm, heavy with lavender and steam. The halls were quiet. Too quiet.
The four slipped through the laundry alcove, pried open an unlocked utility door, and crept down a low, dim passage lit only by a flickering lamp.
At the end: a wooden door with a faded bronze knob. It looked utterly unremarkable. Perfect.
“This is it,” Vexsteel whispered. “Final gate.”
He glanced back at the others. “Ready?”
BunnyRage flexed. ManaWhirl adjusted her spell rings. GoblinSlayerRick drew his shortbow, not realizing that was quite useless indoors.
Vexsteel turned the knob.
The moment they stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind them with a sharp clang. The room darkened, then filled with mist. Thick, vision-clouding fog surged from unseen vents, glowing faintly green.
A sound like distant chanting began to echo off the tiled walls.
“What is…” ManaWhirl started, then started to giggle uncontrollably.
They started hearing screams and incomprehensible voices. Faintly, but quickly getting louder.
Steam blasted from the floor. A mop whirled around driven by a clever mechanic and whacked BunnyRage across the knee. The artifact hidden in a wall activated and bathed them all in reversed repair magic. Not powerful enough to destroy armor or equipment, but clothes shredded and developed holes.
“Trap!” Vexsteel yelled. “Dispel the illusion!”
“There is no illusion!” Rick wailed.
The door didn’t budge and no sound escaped the magically sound-proofed door.
When the door finally creaked open on its own, they stumbled out, screaming for help. Everyone had taken some bruises from getting hit in the dark by frantic movement of the others, their clothes were in shambles and they were in complete panic.
Almost a dozen of the bathhouse guests that were just leaving after their booked bathtime, looked at them in amusement and confusion.
Herrgylly, or Susi, as she was known to the guests, was standing there with an unimpressed look and a teapot in one hand.
“Baths are closed for the evening,” she said sweetly. “This room’s for storage. You boys lost?”
Vexsteel coughed. ManaWhirl was frantically trying to keep his trousers from falling apart. BunnyRage had somehow gotten a bucket stuck on her head. Rick was trying to hide behind a mop.
They fled without a word.
Susi turned, rolled her eyes, and addressed the guests. “Noobs. I’ve seen one guest getting stuck in the broom closet, but four? If those are the kind of ‘heroes’ we get to safe us… May the gods have mercy on us.”
The laughter of the guests followed the embarrassed team out into the street.
* * *
Down in the dungeon, Malvorik pulsed a soft note of approval after getting the report.
Korrm grinned. “Team reputation: successfully shattered.”
With a final nod, the duskgnome stepped back through the portal, vanishing in a shimmer of controlled magic.
After the duskgnome left, he turned back to a conversation he had in his dungeon.
The cat-sheep chimera sitting in front of the projection circle could not speak, but Malvorik understood every movement of her ears and twitch of her fluffy tail.
The crystal glittered amused at the answer.
The chimera fluffed up in protest. Malvorik listened patiently.
…
…
…
…
Fluffle mewed annoyed. With an irritated huff, she turned away from the noise and padded over to the corner of the room. She circled once, then sat down with a grunt.
The cat-sheep pondered the proposition, then nodded.
The dungeon heart refocused his perception and quickly found the source of the loud clanging. His boss monster sat on the floor in his room and hammered listlessly at the floor.
The rat-minotaur looked at the crystal and raised one eyebrow. He pointed at himself, then made a questioning motion. The gesture seemed quite threatening, considering the two war hammers he held in his hands.
The endboss snorted derisively.
The monster considered it, then nodded.
The endboss stood and raised his war hammers with a triumphant roar. Then blinked, as his weapons disappeared in a sparkle of mist.
Brakkhorn seemed content to wait to get his weapons back. But then he shifted unsteady on his feet, as they changed shape from rat-paws to oxen hooves.