Inside the Kobold Dungeon – Hamish's Perspective
The portal's light vanished behind us, sealing off the world we knew. Here, the air felt heavy—like the calm before a Highland storm—and the shadows stretched as if the room itself breathed. Snow stood close, gripping her staff as if it were a lifeline; her sapphire core pulsed softly with light.
"First time, eh?" I muttered, tightening my grip on blade and shield. Her nervous glance said it all. "Don't worry, lass. Stick with me. If it moves, it's fair game."
Snow offered a small nod, though her hands trembled. Her eyes flitted to the jagged walls, where ancient runes glowed dimly and bathed the chamber in an eerie, shifting radiance. The dungeon's magic hummed like a distant drumbeat—subtle yet constant.
A low, steady voice then filled the air, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere:
"Welcome, allies of the Dungeon Master. You are recognized. This realm adapts to your strength. Proceed with care."
Snow jumped and clutched her staff tighter. I scanned the room and grunted, "Cheery place, isn't it? Just what I needed—a talking cave to keep me company."
"Hamish," Snow whispered, her voice tight. "It feels… alive."
She wasn't wrong. Every step sent ripples through the ground, as if the dungeon itself watched us.
"Alive or not, it's still a dungeon. And dungeons mean fights and treasure. Stick with me, and we'll handle both." I raised my shield and strode forward; the echo of my boots filled the silence.
The air grew colder, and a low growl rumbled from the shadows. Snow froze as her sapphire burst into a brighter glow.
"Here we go," I muttered, stepping in front of her. From the edges of the chamber, shapes began to materialize—shadowy, wolf-like creatures flickering between substance and mist. Their burning eyes locked onto us as they circled. Three of them, and none looked friendly.
"Stay close, lass," I ordered, raising my blade. "Shields first, spells after. Aim for their flanks—wolves hate that."
Snow raised her staff; a shimmer of ice coalesced before her in a shield spell that, though delicate, held its form. She mumbled as her fingers trembled through the incantation.
The first wolf lunged.
I stepped directly into its path, bracing with my shield. Its claws sliced against the metal—sparks erupted as the impact raced up my arm. With a grunt, I shoved it aside and swung my blade in a clean arc along its flank. The beast yelped before darting away to regroup.
Behind me, Snow faltered. Her shield spell wavered and then shattered as a second wolf attacked. She stumbled back, barely raising her staff in time to block its snapping teeth.
"Don't think...act!" I barked, diverting the first wolf and turning to face the threat near her. "Yer magic's stronger than ye think. Trust it!"
Her eyes widened; she took a shaky breath and thrust her staff forward. A jagged icicle formed—wobbling for a moment before hurtling toward the wolf. It struck the creature's leg and froze the joint solid. The wolf yelped and staggered, its movements becoming slow and clumsy.
"That's it!" I shouted, stepping forward to finish it with a clean slash.
Then, the third wolf charged, its growl deep and guttural. I raised my shield, deflecting its claws as my blade followed, slashing across its shoulder. It didn't fall immediately, but it staggered back, growling.
"Hamish!" Snow cried out. I spun to see the first wolf lunging at her once more. This time, her shield spell held firm; the wolf slammed against the barrier, its claws scraping uselessly.
"Good lass! Now hit it where it hurts!" I called, deflecting another strike from my own opponent.
Snow hesitated only a moment before casting again. Her next icicle shot true, piercing the wolf's chest. The beast dissolved into mist with a strangled growl, leaving her wide-eyed but unscathed.
"Not bad," I muttered while dodging the final wolf's lunge. With a quick feint, I baited it into overextending and then drove my blade into its side. It crumpled with a quiet whimper before vanishing like the others.
Silence fell, broken only by our ragged breathing. Snow's sapphire pulsed steadily, as if rewarding her effort. Clutching her staff, her face remained pale but determined.
"You alright?" I asked, sheathing my blade as I stepped toward her.
She nodded, her voice shaky. "I... I didn't think I could…" She trailed off, staring at hands that still shimmered with residual magic.
I clapped her on the shoulder with a small grin. "Ye did good, lass. Better than most on their first go. But we're not finished yet. Get ready—the next room won't wait."
A small smile tugged at her lips as she straightened. "I'll do better."
"That's the spirit," I said, turning toward the shifting walls ahead. The dungeon hummed in approval as a darker, narrower path opened before us.
The core's voice echoed: "Success. Strength recognized. Prepare for the next trial."
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, Snow close behind. The air grew colder, the whispers louder, and the magic heavier as we advanced into the next area.
shhhhh TiCHK...
A man's voice:...Snow, you tell the rest of it. I'm no good at this memory crystal stuff...
Snow replied: No, no, you do it. Ill just make a fool of my sel...
Hamish: Nope. I'm done. Probably doing wrong anyway, so its yours. I'm going to eat. Tell this little rock the rest...
...
Snow: Ugh. Ok.. well... how do you turn this on...?
shhhhh TiCHK!
Snow's Perspective:
The corridor narrowed into a dark passage. The dungeon's low hum pulsed around me, but my thoughts remained on the last room—on the sharp growl of the wolves, the weight of my staff, and Hamish's booming voice cutting through chaos.
"Don't think, act," he had told me.
It wasn't that simple. Magic isn't simple. My shield spell nearly shattered again, barely holding back one wolf. If Hamish hadn't been there…
I gripped my staff tighter, the smooth wood a familiar anchor. He was always there—clearing a path, giving me room to breathe. His voice was rough and loud but never unkind. Always steady.
"Yer tougher than that, lass! Show 'em what ye can do!"
I wished I felt that way. My arms ached from sustaining the shield spell too long, and the scrape where a wolf had broken through still stung, though the wound was shallow. Yet I stood up again. I recast the spell, and my ice held firm the second time, and the third. My last icicle had even taken down one of the wolves.
I ran my fingers over the soft glow of the sapphire at my core, feeling its quiet pulse. Moira's voice lingered in my mind—soft and low, like a stream over stones. Magic should flow, not be forced like a dam.
A stream—that was easy to picture. My shield spell came easiest when I stopped resisting, letting the magic move through me instead of clenching it tight. My ice then formed smoother, denser, and even my icicle struck true. The wolves were swift, but I had managed to hit one, and that had to count for something.
Hamish now led ahead, his boots crunching on the rocky floor. He bore his shield like it was an extension of himself—effortless, natural. I envied that confidence. Every move he made, every order he barked, seemed instinctive. He was sure of himself because he knew he could handle anything. I wasn't there yet; my instincts remained unrefined, my spells unpolished. The thought of taking a hit like him made my stomach twist.
"Yer awfully quiet back there," Hamish called from behind, his voice echoing down the corridor. "Not much to say about yer first fight?"
Startled, I stammered, "Oh, um…" Unsure what to admit—fear, inadequacy, or the nagging worry that I'd mess up again.
"It wasn't… as bad as I thought," I managed. It wasn't a lie. Once I started moving, casting—it felt less impossible. "But it's still… a lot."
Hamish glanced back, brow furrowed. "Aye, it is. But yer still breathin', and that counts. Ye did good, lass. Real good."
My cheeks burned as I looked away. "I could've done better. My shield—"
"Held," he interrupted. "That's what matters. Ye figured it out on the fly. More than most."
"Figured it out on the fly…" It didn't feel enough. Magic wasn't something to fumble through. If I wanted to help—here and back at the settlement—I had to grow stronger, faster, better. I had to be something more.
I brushed my fingers over my sapphire core again, feeling a subtle shiver of energy. It collected power as I fought—tiny streams of magic feeding into a reservoir. When I rested, I could channel that to empower my spells or even myself.
But how? Should I focus on strengthening my shields—to protect us? Or work on sharper, quicker offensive spells? The wolves moved too fast; without Hamish holding them back, I'd need something swifter, something keener.
And then there was me. Could the core make me stronger? Faster? Teach me to move as instinctively as Hamish does?
My thoughts spun faster than the magic in my core. There were endless choices, and no clear answer. But the next fight was coming—I could feel it in the very air. The dungeon wasn't finished with us yet.
"Whatever's rattlin' around in that head of yours, put it aside for now," Hamish broke into my thoughts. "We're comin' up on the next chamber."
I lifted my head and followed his gaze. The corridor widened into a cavernous room. Jagged walls glittered, and the cold air bit sharply at my skin. I tightened my grip on my staff and exhaled slowly.
"Right," I murmured. "Focus."
"Atta girl," Hamish said with a quick nod before stepping into the room. I trailed close behind, heart hammering, my mana core warm against my forehead.
The chamber spread wide before us, its uneven floor glinting under dim, cold light. Runes shimmered along the walls, pulsing in an offbeat rhythm that unsettled me. My sapphire core grew warmer—as if reacting to the dungeon's change. Something here felt heavier. More dangerous.
"Keep sharp, lass," Hamish muttered, raising his shield and drawing his sword. "This feels like a trap."
I nodded, clutching my staff tighter. The silence pressed in, the kind that settles before a storm. I scanned the shadows, searching for movement. The room appeared empty—too empty.
Then came a sharp clink, echoing like stone striking metal. The sound grew louder, and the shadows shifted. Small, hunched figures emerged from the gloom, their eyes glowing a menacing red. Kobolds. I'd read about them in the old tomes at the settlement. Cunning, quick, and masters of ambush.
The first kobold lunged forward, brandishing a crude spear. Hamish intercepted it easily—his shield slammed into the creature with a dull thud. The kobold hissed and stumbled, while more slipped between rocks and rubble with unnerving speed.
"Focus on yer shield, Snow!" Hamish barked as he met the next attacker. "Keep 'em off me while I clear the pack!"
I swallowed hard and raised my staff. My Ice Shield sprang into existence—a wide, translucent barrier between us and the advancing kobolds. This time, the spell felt steadier, more reliable. The magic flowed through me, guided by a rhythm I was starting to grasp.
A kobold smashed into the shield; its spear bounced harmlessly off the ice. Another skittered around the edge, only for Hamish to greet it with a clean slash of his blade. He fought with fierce accuracy—every move measured and sure. Watching him sparked a flicker of hope. We could do this.
Then the mage appeared.
From the back of the room emerged a kobold unlike the others. Taller and draped in a patchwork robe, it wielded a staff that crackled with erratic purple energy. Its eyes, glowing ominously, locked onto us as the air around it rippled with magic.
"Hamish," I whispered, heart pounding. "There's a—"
"I see it," he growled, eyes narrowing. "Stay back. That one's trouble."
The kobold mage raised its staff. A bolt of energy shot our way. My shield absorbed most of the impact, though the force rattled my arms and sent me reeling.
"Snow!" Hamish called, charging toward the mage. His shield deflected a bolt aimed at him, though the impact forced him back a step.
I gritted my teeth and planted my feet. The kobold mage prepared another attack while the other kobolds surged forward, testing the edges of my shield. One darted through a gap, slashing at me. I barely managed to cast a Frost Snap in time—freezing its arm mid-swing.
"Got you!" I muttered as Hamish charged the mage. He moved like a force of nature, cutting down any who stood in his path. The mage turned its staff toward him, but Hamish raised his shield just in time.
"Clever little bastard," Hamish growled as he leaped forward. His blade slashed downward, shattering the mage's staff in a burst of light. The kobold hissed and retreated as his next strike ended it.
The remaining kobolds scattered. I lowered my staff as my shield dissolved with a soft hum. My arms ached, but a small smile broke through—I knew we'd done it.
"Not bad, lass," Hamish said, a rare note of approval in his tone. "Yer shield held up better than before."
"Thanks," I replied softly, cheeks warm. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."
Before Hamish could reply, a glow caught my eye. Half-buried in rubble near the back of the room lay a small chest. It pulsed with magic, and the runes on its surface shimmered in the dim light.
"What's that?" I asked, stepping closer.
"Looks like loot," Hamish grinned. "Go on, lass. Ye earned it."
I hesitated, then knelt beside the chest. The runes faded at my touch as the lid creaked open. Inside lay a ring with a silver band etched in swirling patterns. The gemstone at its center radiated a pale blue light, pulsing in tune with the magic around us.
Slipping it onto my finger, I felt the air shift. Colors emerged in the shadows—subtle auras outlining every rock and crevice. Even the remnants of our foes shimmered with residual magic. I blinked, awed and overwhelmed.
"What is it?" Hamish asked as he drew near.
"I think…" I hesitated, focusing on the ring's energy. "I think it lets me see magical auras. Everything looks... different."
"Useful," he nodded. "Could save yer skin if we run into invisible nasties."
I marveled as the dungeon seemed to come alive around me. The ring's steady hum reassured me. For the first time, I felt I had an edge—something that could tip the scales in our favor.
"Come on," Hamish said, motioning toward the next corridor. "Let's keep movin'. This dungeon's got more to throw at us yet."
The next chamber's air shifted—colder and sharper. A sulfurous, burnt-ozone scent lingered. The room was larger, its jagged walls bathed in a sickly green glow. At its center stood a figure.
A kobold, but unlike any we'd seen. Tall for its kind, with ragged, patchy fur and draped in a stitched-together robe, it hunched over a staff that crackled with erratic energy. Its yellow eyes darted between us with unsettling intensity.
Hamish raised his shield and advanced cautiously. "Well, aren't ye an ugly one. What's yer game, then?"
The kobold's grin stretched too wide, exposing uneven, sharp teeth. "Oh, my game, yes…" it rasped, its voice low yet smooth—as if oil spilled across stone. "I am Mizzryk, master of tricks and cunning. And you… you are not like the others."
"Others?" Hamish narrowed his eyes, blade at the ready.
"The beasts," Mizzryk spat, dismissing them with a clawed gesture. "They obey the dungeon's whims, but not I. I see through its games. I… I seek freedom."
Its tone made my skin crawl, but before I could speak, it continued, "You have come far. Fought bravely. Perhaps you think yourselves strong, capable. But what awaits beyond this place is no mere trial." Its gaze flicked to me. I stepped back instinctively. "The master of this dungeon watches, waits, hungers."
"Get to the point," Hamish demanded, tightening his grip.
"What are ye after?" he pressed.
Mizzryk's grin broadened as it bowed low, its staff clicking against the stone floor. "A bargain, yes? An alliance. You are not foolish—I see that. Together, my power and your strength," it said, its eyes lingering on me. "Especially the little one's magic."
Hamish glanced at me, unreadable. I swallowed hard, gripping my staff.
"How do we know you won't just stab us in the back once we turn our backs?" I asked, trying to sound steady.
The kobold tilted its head. "You doubt me. Wise, but unnecessary. I have no need for tricks now—there is no profit in treachery." It tapped its staff; a small flicker of green light danced around its claw. "With my power, I could aid you. Break the enemies that block your path."
Hamish lowered his blade slightly, though he stayed tense. "And why should ye care what happens to us?"
Mizzryk's grin sharpened. "Because the dungeon and I… we are not allies. Its master wields power I detest—a power I wish undone." It leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially, "I seek what you seek: freedom, survival, perhaps even glory."
For a moment, I thought Hamish might consider it. His grip tightened, and he glanced at me, brow furrowed. My mind raced—could we trust this creature? It was cunning, yes, but it had survived this far. And if its words about the dungeon master rang true, we might need its help.
"I don't trust it," I whispered, leaning closer to Hamish. "It feels… wrong."
"Aye," he murmured. "But if it speaks truth, it might be useful."
Before we could decide, Mizzryk straightened abruptly, its staff flaring with energy. Its grin twisted into something sinister.
"Ah, but I digress," it sneered. "If you will not accept my offer, then you leave me no choice. I will take what I need."
The air exploded with crackling energy as Mizzryk raised its staff, unleashing a bolt of raw force. It struck my shield spell with terrifying accuracy, shattering it instantly. The shock rattled through my arms; I stumbled and barely managed to raise another barrier in time.
"Snow, cover!" Hamish roared, charging forward. His shield absorbed a bolt meant for him, though it forced him back a step.
Mizzryk cackled, its voice high and grating. "Fools! You will see the power I wield! Kneel before Mizzryk!"
I darted behind a fallen pillar, heart pounding. My shields shattered too quickly, draining my mana and leaving me light-headed. I peeked out to see Hamish clashing with the kobold, sparks flying as his sword met a barrier of green light.
"Yer tricks won't save ye!" Hamish bellowed, slamming his shield into the barrier. The kobold staggered but retaliated with another force bolt, hurling Hamish backward.
I gripped my staff and forced focus. The kobold's attacks were overwhelming yet calculated. I cast another Ice Shield—small, focused—just enough to cover Hamish as he advanced again. The bolt shattered it, but Hamish swung his blade with timing that made the kobold hiss and retreat.
"You'll regret this!" Mizzryk snarled, raising its staff for another spell.
Before it could cast, I fired a Frost Snap. The ice raced along the floor, ensnaring the kobold's feet. It screeched, struggling to break free, but Hamish was faster. His shield rammed into its chest, driving it against the far wall.
"Finish it!" I shouted, voice weak from spent mana. I could barely lift my staff.
Hamish raised his blade—and then Mizzryk laughed, its staff flaring in blinding light. "You think this is over? No… this is only the beginning!"
A wave of crackling energy filled the room. A final bolt slammed into the ceiling, sending debris crashing between us. When the dust settled, the kobold was gone.
I staggered forward, legs trembling. Hamish sheathed his blade, scowling. "Coward," he muttered. "It'll be back."
My gaze fell on a small pile of treasure glinting at the room's center. The dungeon's magic rewarded our victory.
"Snow, take a look," Hamish said, gesturing to the hoard.
Inside I found:
A small gemstone worth 300 gold.
An ornate necklace with subtle magical properties.
A potion of healing.
A potion of mana regeneration.
I pocketed the potions and showed Hamish the gemstone and necklace. "Think these were worth the trouble?" I asked, voice tinged with exhaustion.
"Aye," he grinned. "But let's hope the next room's rewards don't come with such a nasty bite."
As we moved toward the next corridor, my thoughts lingered on Mizzryk. He was still out there, waiting. I couldn't shake the feeling that we hadn't seen the last of his tricks. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.
But I sort of want to kill him too.