D100 Dungeon: Game 1 Quest 1 - Turns 1 to 4

Turn 01 - Yellow Room

Perhaps I had found treasure already! My lamp guttered, casting flickering shadows on the mound of debris. Disease clung to the air, a cloying stench that gnawed at my resolve. Alas, nothing but bones and rot, whispers of a forgotten plague or a brutal massacre. No hidden vaults, no glittering treasures, just death's icy grip on a pile of rotting bodies. A search I had undertaken that was best not undertook.

Frustration crackled in my beard, as sharp as the frost crystals clinging to my clothes. I'd braved blizzards and wrestled ice trolls, but this… this was different. A creeping emptiness that threatened to suck the warmth right out of my bones.

With a grunt, I turned from the grim heap of corpses, the silence amplifying the gnawing unease in my gut. Two bites of the plague, a grim reminder of the danger lurking in every shadow. But there was no turning back.

Onward, then, deeper into the labyrinth. Each empty cavern, each echoing corridor, another piece of the puzzle. The Peaks hold their secrets tight, like frozen jewels in the mountain's icy crown.

(2 diseases added to track = Total 2)

Turn 02 - North - Blue Room

The North Passage swallowed me whole, a silent embrace. No cloying stench here, just the glisten of frost-coated stone and the rhythmic drip of glacial tears. A welcome respite, aye, but one that set my nerves jangling like wind chimes in a blizzard. My grip tightened on my trusty pavise shield, its icy scales catching the flickering lamplight. Eyes narrowed, I surveyed the passage, a jagged scar ripped into the mountain's frozen flesh. 

I pressed forward, boots crunching on the frost-crusted floor. And then, amidst the echoing silence, a curious detail snagged my eye. A gap beneath a toppled shelf, a sliver of parchment peeking out like a frozen tongue. Hope tugged at my beard as I approached cautiously. Could it be? After the grim disappointment of the charnel pit, could the Peaks offer a reward? As I drew closer, I realized the gap revealed the remnants of a forgotten library. Most shelves lay bare, stripped clean by time or desperate hands. But beneath this one, lay a battered spellbook, its leather cover cracked and faded. The book clung to the frozen stone, but with a grunt and a tug, it yielded. Opening it, I found two faded spells inked upon the brittle pages: Ice Storm, a whisper of frost and fury, and Clumsy, a cruel hex that could turn even the nimblest warrior into a stumbling fool. Knowledge is power, they say, and in these frozen depths, power is all that stands between a dwarf and oblivion.

(Found 2 spells - Ice Storm and Clumsy)

Turn 03 - North - Red

The north passage twisted and turned like a serpent, each step a gamble against the unknown. The silence was shattered by a chorus of chittering. Giant rats swarmed from the shadows, their teeth gnashing as if to carve my name upon the mountain's bones. The ice beneath my boots groaned as I braced myself, a lone warrior against a tide of vermin. The battle was a frenzy, my baton pounding the swarming horde. Each blow was met with a chorus of squeals and gnashing teeth, but my shield held strong, deflecting their hungry bites. Disease coursed through my veins with each scratch. One by one, the rats fell beneath my onslaught, their bodies littering the frost-covered ground. But they fought with a desperation born of hunger and darkness, their numbers seemingly endless. 

But Cayleb the Cold ain't one to be brought low by vermin. With a final roar, I unleashed a mighty blow, my baton breaking the back of the last of the pack. Silence fell once more, broken only by the ragged rhythm of my breath and the distant echo of dripping ice. The victory had cost me, aye. My shield scarred, and the disease gnawing at my veins. But I stood victorious, the chamber littered with the remains of my foes. And in my hand, a trophy of bone, a testament to the resilience of a warrior unyielding. I surveyed the battlefield. I saw a crack in the frozen wall. With a grunt, I began to clear the rubble. With each frost-crusted pebble removed, the opening grew wider, revealing a dark passage leading westward.  The Peaks, it seemed, were not done testing Cayleb the Cold. 

(20 Hp / 2 disease added to track - Total 4 / Shield took 2 damage / Gained Rat Bone / Found secret tunnel west)

Turn 4 - West - Red

The westward passage swallowed me whole, a narrow maw leading deeper into the frozen labyrinth. Darkness stole my sight and breath. I fumbled for my lamp, fingers stiff with the creeping cold, and with a splash of oil and a click of flint, banished the oppressive gloom. Light flared, painting the tunnel in jagged shadows. The world sharpened into focus, revealing the passage carved through ancient ice, its walls polished smooth by the touch of countless unseen hands. 

A movement flickered at the edge of my vision. A shape, hunched and feral, darted from the shadows, its eyes blazing with a sickly yellow light. A goatman, its thick fur matted with ice and its horns curled like wicked blades. The creature let out a guttural scream. My hand instinctively sought my baton, the familiar weight a reassuring presence against the sudden threat. We circled each other, two predators in a dance of life and death. My blows met with the clang of horns against hardened wood. The goatman was quick, its hooves skittering across the ice, but my years of experience held me steady. Time and again, I found my mark, the baton thundering against its ribs, but the creature refused to fall. With a final, desperate cry, I unleashed a mighty blow, the baton slamming into the goatman's leg with a crack like breaking ice. The creature stumbled, eyes wide with pain and fear. In that moment of vulnerability, I saw not a monstrous beast, but a creature driven by its own desperate hunger and survival. Hesitation flickered within me, empathy piercing the shield of vengeance. The goatman lunged, its horns aiming for my throat. Instinct took over, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I raised my shield, desperate to block the attack. Pain flared as the horns slammed into my pavise, the force of the blow knocking me back against the icy wall. My head spun, stars dancing in my vision. For a moment, everything went still, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the pounding of my own heart. 

When I finally regained my bearings, the tunnel was empty. The goatman, sensing its chance, had vanished into the shadows, leaving me bruised and shaken, but alive. Victory, perhaps, but a pyrrhic one. My gaze snagged on a detail I had previously missed. Nestled amidst the frost-encrusted walls, barely visible in the flickering lamplight, was a crack. I began clearing the ice and rubble. Slowly, the opening widened, revealing a dark passage leading northward. 

(20 Hp / Found secret tunnel north)