The pair had moved through the strange cavernous tunnel. They were like individual chambers connected like a spider's web—one room might lead to another, two rooms might lead back to the same entrance.
Maeve had taken an immediate step to jot down the directions they came and went, which, much to Rennia's annoyance, was quite unnecessary. As they went further inside the natural formation of the cavernous mound, the environment slowly angled down, which meant walking back had an ascending incline.
So far there had been no creatures, no loot chests, and certainly no signs of mana crystals. The room they were in was rectangular. What was strange was the only observable thing in one room, which were the pots—there were dozens of them, just lined up against the wall, not neatly at all. It was a poor imitation of a temple's room.
She stood in front of one such pot, her hand twitching on its own, unexplainable. But she felt the urge to break it.
BREAK IT. SMASH IT.
Something whispered to her, deep. Rennia's hands reached out autonomously and unconsciously.
"Hey, what are you doing, you dolt!" Maeve called out in mild panic.
Rennia smashed it against the dirt walls of the cavern. Clang! It resounded. The sound of broken porcelain echoed in the tunneling mounds. Porcelain—now why would that spawn all the way here? Dungeons were "strange." But the academic folks always claimed they were more often than not built on submerged foundations.
Rennia stared at the contents. The cracked pot? It was unsatisfying. There was nothing. No items, no loot, nothing special, nothing of substance.
Maeve raised an eyebrow. "What are you trying? Are you mad? Wouldn't it be more logical to check the pots before breaking them?"
"I don't know," Rennia said. "I got this unignorable urge to just... just..."
"Just what?"
"Break the pots!" Rennia exclaimed.
Maeve, as if possessed by the same spirit of compulsion, sped towards a pot herself. She took it and then hurled it down, shattering it. Her eyes widened a bit at the sensation, but she said nothing.
They kept going. Pot after pot. Breaking them. The sound echoing. Nothing inside any of them. Just this weird compulsion driving them forward until all the pots were in pieces on the floor. The pots were probably the most vulnerable parts of this place.
"That is so fucking weird," Maeve said, wiping her hands.
"Tell me about it," Rennia nodded. Something wasn't right about this place. "Let's chalk it up to the dungeon being weird. Let's get a move on. Trial run, am I right?"
Maeve grunted.
Rennia kicked the shards away, and then she stumbled onwards, peeking into the room next door. She left Maeve to the pottery-smashing aftermath and wandered off.
The next room was vacant. There was nothing inside except a long hallway leading somewhere she didn't know where it went. Still no sign of the mana crystals. Probably deeper down. She hoped to God she didn't have to pick it. She definitely wasn't a dwarf.
She looked behind her, noticing that Maeve had wandered off slightly. She wasn't back in the room where she had been with the pots, and the pottery shards were still on the ground, only part of them cleaned up.
She heard a cry, and she heard footsteps running her way, stumbling and screaming and shouting. She dove inside the chamber they were in, casting a spell out of her grimoire—an ice spell, sending flying spikes at something Rennia didn't see. She drew her sword and hastily positioned herself in front of Maeve.
Heavy footsteps were heard coming her way, and two mushroom men came marching their way.
Mushroom men? What the fuck?
That was Rennia's only thought.
Shroomen. Of course, she knew about them. Who didn't?
Rennia had never seen them in her life before. They weren't known to be a troublesome enemy, but they could be known to hunt and even kill people. Targeted. They certainly weren't mindless, if not hive-minded savages.
Maeve was still on the ground, staggered, scrambling to get up, but her ankle was caught by a tentacle, trap, or something. Rennia took a sword and slashed at it, and a dull pop echoed out, followed by a hazy, white puffy smoke. When the smell hit her, her face scrunched up—the smell was sour, rotten, and weirdly sweet.
Ugh, nasty. She kept herself from vomiting and then hardened up.
"Maeve, on me. I'll strike at them if they get close," Rennia barked. "Cover me with a spell, anything. You're capable, yes?"
A chorus of heavy footsteps kept coming. The shroomen, with their pale bodies—half humanoid, half fungal mass, half foliage—threw themselves in, their blue mycelium caps pulsing above the veins of their faces.
"What is it?" Maeve asked her. "And why are these things here in a trainee dungeon?"
A dungeon remained a dungeon, no matter how safe. But Rennia didn't want to chastise her now. "Shroomen, part of a fungal horde, probably. I've never seen them before. They don't usually show up."
A shroomen hissed at her, then threw its massive, mushroom-like arms, and she slashed them away. It didn't fall but was clearly hurt. It kept coming. Maeve cast something—a spell. Two circles surrounded the shroomen, and Maeve shouted out the words. They were slowed slightly, but not enough.
Rennia attacked one, hitting it over and over and over. Its unrelenting body threw itself at her. She dodged narrowly but cut one along its veins. Something blue, sticky liquid popped out, and the thing fell to the ground, almost deflating like a balloon, weird flesh tumbling out of it.
Her [Sixth Sense] came in clutch, and she rolled just in time when a piece of poisonous fluid was sent flying her way. To the left, her mind echoed to herself.
The shroomen lunged at Maeve and slammed into her body. She tumbled back and fell on the floor.
"Maeve!" Rennia panicked.
This one was larger than the other, and she needed to overpower it. And for that, she needed to be obscene. She stared at Maeve on the ground—the thought of doing the nastiest, perverted thought she could muster put her in a moral and psychological arousal. Maeve sprawled there, tight clothes, pushed on the ground, vulnerable. Rennia could work off that, mentally edge herself.
The arousal drew, and with arousal came an energy boost. [Sexual Discipline]. She lunged out at the beast and slashed it across the body. It sent it backwards. It was working, but then her blade caught on something thick.
Maeve behind her stood up and then said the words very loudly, "Burn!" A whisper, and a large column of dark gold flame erupted. The shroomen exploded, their scent oddly sweet, like garlic roasted, mixed with thyme and parsley.
Rennia stared at Maeve, impressed and in mild awe.
Maeve looked finicky and showed a bit of concern on her face. "I'm fine. Don't stare at me like that. Are you okay, peasant?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, Your Highness." Still out of breath, she smiled at the on-edge Maeve. "Impressive spell. What is it? I've never seen someone do a fire spell that way before."
Maeve took a step back and stared at the ground, hesitant. "I told you before, I'm not so ordinary. The details of my class—I'd prefer to keep confidential," she told her.
Rennia did get it, so too did she.
Taking the moment as a small sliver to breathe, there were no more monsters in sight, and she was interested in what Maeve had to say. The lump of shroomen flesh before her smelled awfully alluring, but she wouldn't munch on it any time soon. Forbidden Mushroom.
Rennia attempted to inquire more about Maeve's class.
"I'm sorry I can't let you know much," Maeve stated, sitting on a stump. "You are an unknown factor, Ms. Perillion, and there are many people across the world that would readily take advantage of nobles undergoing rites of passage."
Rites of passage? Is that what she thinks this is?
Her hands were reddish as she put her hands on her knees. Rennia could see a scrape on her leg. She was bleeding slightly. Had she even been aware of it? Probably not. For now, until a blade bludgeoned her limbs, she'd focus on the mysterious highborn.
"So you're not the highborn you claim you are?"
Maeve snorted. "I'm certainly not what you think I am. And you're quite skilled for a jack of all trades, Scout girl."
Rennia looked away. Scout? That's certainly not what she had in mind. But Pathfinder did seem more like a roguish class than a warrior's one. Knowing she wasn't being truthful either, she didn't feel she was. Not really. "You're much more special with your sorcerer class."
That was a lie. If Maeve knew what she was hiding... Should she tell the stranger about her subclass? Incase something happened. It was probably not a good idea. Now certainly wasn't the moment.
The sudden scraping of stone and bark cut over her thoughts. Three shroomen appeared from nowhere—smaller and slightly more armored.
She raised the blade. It was time to test something that she'd wanted to try.