Reinhardt and Magdi stood looking at each other in the guttering light of the torch. For a good long moment, they stood in silence, grins spreading as was drawn into their souls. This was different to when they had hunted rabbits, or tracked a fox - this was somehow stronger, or more pure. Reinhardt couldn’t quite describe it, not in that moment, but his first impression was of density. This was denser than that of normal animals and livestock.

  Magdi whooped into the darkness.

  “Furst kill, an’ it’s a ‘Velopa an’ everythin’,” he grinned as he pumped his arms. “Thought it’d be a bat or sommat we’d bag afore anythin’.”

  “We’re real adventurers now,” Reinhardt couldn’t help but be caught up in the excitement.

  “Silence!” Otto hissed through a face like a thunder cloud. It was remarkable to Reinhardt just how much Otto resembled his own father after he’d injured his little brother in a ‘play’ duel. “Do you wish to have all the creatures of the caves descend upon us? What is there to celebrate here?”

  Reinhardt and Magdi still looked at each other in the gloom, still posed as though in triumph.

  “Well, we just killed our first Dungeon

  “That’s as may be,” Otto drew himself up to glare down his nose at the others, “but too close to being a near-fatal encounter. When it had no reason to be.”

  “‘Close,’ ‘near,’ but it -”

  “Especially in the face of what we promised our mothers!” Otto powered on over the top of Reinhardt’s still exuberant cavalier attitude. “We knew there were Envelopers down here, one of us should have had our eyes on the ceiling!”

  “Well,” Magdi shrugged. “Me votes on ye, ye’rs the closest. Cannae be me, me eyes has the furthest to go!”

  Otto stared down at the Dwarf, seemingly aghast.

  “At this range, it doesn’t -. There’s not enough...” Otto threw up his hands and grimaced. “Fine, my own eyes have the least ‘’ so I’ll surveil the ceiling.”

  “Yeah, you’d better.” Magdi muttered mulishly.

  Otto opened his mouth to respond, but the echoing giggles of Reinhardt and Magdi shut him up. Reinhardt hugged the fuming Mage around the shoulders.

  “It’s all part of the first delve. We’re here to learn!” He steered the taller man down the stone corridor, sweeping his arm, still holding the machete. “Adventure awaits!"

  “I do believe, as far as ‘first encounter’ stories go, it will make for a good tale.” Grudgingly, Otto smiled sheepishly. Reinhardt shook him gently and went to retrieve the torch. Together, they continued down the passageway - Magdi leading, Otto in the middle and Reinhardt, torch held high bringing up the rear.

  “Eyes on th’ roof, beanstalk.”

  The boys traipsed through the caves for another half hour, killing two more Envelopers in that time. Each encounter was easier than the last. After the second Enveloper, Otto was able to ascertain which stalactite was a stalactite, and which was a lurking Enveloper.

  “Observe! It has to do with the texture - a stalactite is minerals in the shape of a cone. Whereas the Enveloper has a hide that is trying to emulate stone - the light reflects differently!”

  After that, they had no problems picking out the fake stalactites. Otto would hit them with a regular Charged Bolt. This made the full-cream version of better at “Charged Bolt, Otto had read, and had now experienced, had more “length,” if such a term could be applied to energy - meaning it would “leap” a greater distance, and an even further distance if those points were two .

  The end result of this limited testing was that a single cast of into the base of the Enveloper would “lock” the creature up for a second, dropping it from the roof and allowing the other two to hack at its fleshy body with machete and block splitter. It was obvious, after the first encounter, that blunt weapons were not going to be effective against a seemingly boneless sack of rubbery meat. Each encounter made them more efficient, and more confident.

  “I’m wondering jus’ how many ‘velopas we’d need to kill to ascend a

  “Consider, if you will.” Otto peered further down the tunnel. “It takes us three less than a moment to kill each one. By that measure, what level do you believe these creatures are?”

  “Low,” the dwarf growled. “We need ta git out of these caves. Mebbe them boar’s’d be better huntin’.”

  “We are closer to the exit of the caves than the exit of the Dungeon

  “Shame,” Reinhardt shook his head, “I was just starting to get used to being underground.”

  The trio walked along to the next junction. Reinhardt hung back and caught Otto’s eye. He tried to mime while exaggeratedly mouthing “Which way?” Otto winked and hooked a thumb to the right, quickly turning the movement to pull at his earlobe as the Dwarf turned to look at them.

  “Whaddaya reckon?” He said, before pointing at Otto. “Not ye, ye be knowin’ th’ way already.”

  “You know,” Reinhardt made a show of looking down each branch of the fork. “I’ve always thought the right way is the right way.”

  “Right ye are,” the Dwarf grinned and set off down the right hand tunnel. Otto spared a glance at Reinhardt, who winked back.

  “The next one is straight through, if he asks.” Otto muttered as he turned to follow Magdi’s stumping steps.

  They had barely walked for a few short minutes before a strange, earthy smell with a distinct, pungent top note assaulted their nostrils. The strange smell reminded Reinhardt of the loamy soil his mother used in her planter boxes, mixed with fish guts that had already started to go foul. Otto’s nose twitched and he let out an involuntary gag.

  Magdi breathed deeply, his broad, flat nose flaring.

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  “Huh,” he said. “Wunda wat that is.”

  “Disgusting, is what that is.” Otto grimaced. “That must be a Myconid spore chamber.”

  “Mushrooms, eh?” The Dwarf seemed almost eager to get down into the next chamber. “Is these sommo those eatable ones?"

  “Edible. And yes,” Otto looked like it cost him dearly to say it, “the tan and browns are not poisonous. Though it has been said that ‘edible’ is spreading the truth rather thin.”

  “Let’s get to it, then!” Magdi bellowed, readying his weapons and bounding down the stone gallery.

  Reinhardt and Otto shared a brief glance. With a shake of the head, Reinhardt hefted his machete, settling it more comfortably into his hand. He was pleased that after only four encounters, the thick, chunky blade was feeling if not natural, then… secure. He felt he had a good feel for its heft and balance, and it felt good to swing it. Otto was muttering to himself, reading what appeared to be an arcane recipe drawn onto the front of an envelope. Reinhardt did not concern himself with it, he trusted Otto of all people would be present, mentally as well as physically when it came time to fight.

  Emerging from the tunnel into the small chamber, Reinhardt frowned in surprise. Every surface was covered with… stuff. Stuff that he could not even begin to identify, even loosely. There was fuzzy moss-like mould, strange dinner-plate growths of what looked like sponge cake but he was sure was most certainly not, tiny toadstools the appropriate size for toads to actually use them as stools, and giant mushrooms taller than even Otto with caps broader than he could reach by stretching. Most of everything was drab grey, boring tan or dirty off-white. The air was thick with a pervasive brownish-green - ‘drab olive,’ maybe? - haze, but through the gloom and nestled amongst the earthy tones were oddities.

  Like where Magdi now stood. Beside him, on the ground and sprouting from loam caught in the cracks and stoneledges, were an almost delicate fungi - thin stalked and with a cap so light they seemed to flutter like gossamer threads in the freshly disturbed air. The spores they released surrounded the Dwarf like a halo, minute specks of white that caught the light of the torch and contrasted with the pervasive murk of the rest of the fungal emulsions. Magdi stood in mid-stride, seemingly transfixed by the floating motes of white drifting past his eyes.

  “Blast,” Otto muttered. “. I’d have thought a Dwarf would have higher resistance.”

  “Look at the trail. No footprints. Maybe these fungi have been germinating down here for a long while,” Reinhardt scanned the room. “Some of these mushrooms could have attained a higher

  “No more than

  “Wha -”

  But Otto was already muttering, folding his hands over and around themselves, before throwing his hands out, thumb tip to thumb tip, fingers splayed out to their limit. A huge gout of flame erupted from his palms, swelling to a massive, billowing cloud five metres long, enveloping Magdi completely.

  “What the hell, Otto!” Reinhardt reached out to grab at the young mage’s hands. He froze mid stride as a bellow erupted from the midst of the writhing flames. From out of the centre of the cloud streaked an enraged Dwarf, clothes and beard smouldering. He looked around frantically before his beady eyes fixed on the madly grinning Otto. The Mage let the spell drop, small flames still licking at the rock as the toadstool and moulds were consumed by the fire.

  “Oh there you are, Magdi.” The tall man gave a fake start of surprise. “Fancy seeing you here.” Magdi looked around suspiciously, his face bewildered. As he took in the various mushrooms and toadstools, he seemed to come to himself. He pursed his lips as he took in the small, crisping mushrooms he had been standing among.

  “Not gonna lie,” he sniffed. “That stuff is better ‘un th’bestest ale." He reached out and tore a strip off a toadstool that had been crisped by Otto's Spell. He began to chew it, nodding appreciatively.

  Otto and Reinhardt barked out a laugh. But Reinhardt felt a shiver run up his spine. If those Nightcaps had ensnared him, he wasn’t sure he would ever snap out of it. Dwarves were naturally resistant to intoxicants, toxins and narcotics. He himself was under the table on the third mug. He also wasn’t keen on being burnt alive to snap him out of it. Maybe one of the others would use a different method of shaking him out of it. Would it be enough? Would he simply wait there until the Myconid Thallid lurking somewhere in this room came to absorb his life-force to feed these fungus monsters?

  As that thought hit the centre of his brain, his eyes started scanning the room. If these fungi had been through a few cycles uninterrupted - or worse, had managed to snare or slay a delver, though he had not heard of any fatalities lately - they may have reached mid-tier. He wasn’t aware if they could move on from Stuporfactive Spores, and the ease in which they had ensnared Magdi gave Reinhardt pause. The Thallid - the Myconid Shroomlord that would have germinated the fungus in this room could be lurking anywhere.

  “Otto!” he whispered. “What happens if a Thallid passes

  Otto drew himself up, hand poised in the manner of an orator.

  “No lectures! It’s here somewhere,” He scooted in closer to the other two. “And it may be past its

  “All Myconids can evolve along three paths: , and -” he broke off as a strange slithering sound came from among the stalks and caps. The trio squinted into the gloom, trying to discern any movement, any shape recognisable as the humanoid Thallid. “And ”

  From between the largest two mushrooms, their caps weeping a colourless viscous goop, slinked a tall, skeletal form. It looked, to Reinhardt’s eye, as a painfully thin man wearing a tattered waxed longcoat, like the kind a boatsman would wear. Upon its head, a mushroom cap of deepest black was formed into a fair imitation of the planter’s hats the ferrymen favoured. It stalked forward slowly, sending tremors through Reinhardt soul. It did not move the way a Human might. It ‘walked,’ if indeed that was the right word for it, without moving its arms. Without moving its shoulders or head. The “legs” were the only part that moved. One leg stepped forward, elongating slightly to keep everything else level and immobile, and ‘pulled’ the body forward. Like it had seen a Human walk, but didn’t understand the mechanics behind the motion. It’s still, too still, head turned to face the three. A shock ran through all three at once. A grinning Human skull leered at them in the dim light.

  With a shiver of horror, Reinhardt realised this creature had indeed killed. Worse than killed, he saw the pulsing orange-purple mass of the original mushroom glowing softly inside the skull. It had crawled inside the man, consuming him from the inside while replacing and replicating his muscles with mycelial threads. The cap had forced its way through the rends and fissures of the skull, branching out to cover the hat the man once wore. The hat itself had long since decayed and disintegrated, however the mushroom cap held its shape in parody. The waxed leather longcoat had held up rather well, Reinhardt felt, considering the squalid, humid conditions the Thallid resided in. But then, the coat was probably made to be waterproof and hardy to deal with the spray and heavy work the ferrymen who worked the river did. A boatsman from , most likely. Ran out here to try to gain a few and maybe have a shot at making their fortune.

  “” Reinhardt frowned to himself. “ alone. That, and he likely had a few of passive growth from his work.” He cursed internally. “ Not only had he not climbed any steps, he had served the Dungeon

  How DungeonsDungeonDungeonDungeonEssence” was absorbed by those that contributed to its death. There was always a percentage that leaked into the Aether, but most of its accumulated was drawn into the being, adding to the of that which killed it. That was essentially what Spirit, or SoulEssence of a being. Reinhardt was not terribly philosophical, so had not dedicated much thought to what his was, or where it was stored. What he did know was things that died by the effort of another added most of their to their slayer, and the rest went to the world. In a DungeonDungeon

  “Ateus