The Ghost in the Dungeon

[SniptheShadow]

The Ghost in the Dungeon

A Tale of DDO

by

SniptheShadow






The Greatsword descends.

Time slows.

The blade is twice as tall as a man and almost as wide. The Ogre yells a guttural war cry to his fellows as he strikes. The sword blocks out all light; the torchlight is gone, the glowing stones placed along the walls of the tunnel -- all blocked by dull grey metal, blocked by air-cutting destruction. There's a sound of metal against metal, a clanging sound that rings out...and then a hush.

Darkness.

Sight slowly returns, but it is dim and dark and things are difficult to discern. The Rogue watches as the Ogre's move away and speak to one another in the low growls and grunts of their language. The Rogue is forgotten. The Rogue is a mass on cold wet stone.

What's that at the edge of his eyes? A swirling blue stone. So pretty! So familiar. It calls to him. It holds him in place, but what is it?



(( Nalinor, did you die?))

((Uh...yeah.))

((What happened!?))

((Ogre's happened.))

((You're not a tank, remember?))

((Yes, Healer Goddess, I remember. I'll be good.))

((I've told you!))

((You've told me.))



What is this blue stone? Why does it seem so familiar? The Rogue looks down at his hands and sees the glistening stone dungeon floor through them. He touches his transluscent hair with ghost fingers and feels...nothing. Am I dead, then? Has it come to this? I've failed. My comrades will fight on, I know, but what of the many hidden secret deaths this place covers with stone and iron, wood and clay? They need me! They need my expertise!

And then the Rogue is moving.

But what is moving him!?



((Where did you die, Nalinor?))

((I'm not sure. I've never done this quest before.))

((Hold on.))

((Recall out?))

((No! Hold on.))

((kk.))



The Rogue is astounded as he looks down at himself and watching his see-thru legs run as in life. Things are so dark now, but something makes him move round a corner and up a steep incline.

Ogre's!! He sees the Ogre's from before. They cook what looks to be a Halfling carcass on an open fire and they drink from human skulls.



((Guys?))

((Yeah.))

((When you grab my stone just be careful because I count seven Ogres.))

((Okay, Nalinor. NP.))



The Rogue blinks and jerks in surprise. Voices! What are those voices he keeps hearing? Are they Gods? And they KNOW!! They knew of the Ogres!? At least the loudest voice knew of them. Is he seeing through my eyes? wondered the Rogue.

And then he is running again.

Left. Right. Right again, and then another incline upwards. The Rogue can see two pillars ahead. The one on the right has a blue rune etched on its surface, the one on the left a red one. Beyond his control, he runs.

Up, up, up the incline and the pillars grow tall in the murky darkness. He comes near and then he feels a tugging inside his core. It is like invisible cords pulling down and back against this other force moving him forward. The Rogue can feel the pull deep down at the base of his spine and above the anus. Things blur. He tries to scream.

What is this blue stone? What is this blue moving stone at the edge of his eyes?

He's back where he started! He wants to scream again when he looks down and sees his body beneath the stone. The stone curls up and out of his center, silently and slowly spinning. The Rogue opens his mouth and screams his fear, but there is no sound.



((There's a Shrine near me.))

((Can you make it?))

((I think so.))

((Try dude. Were a little busy and can't make it back to where you are just yet.))

((NP.))



The Rogue's face is a mask of mind-shattering anguish as he stares down at the two halves of his split upper torso.

Then he is running.

He tries to scream again, but this time in anger at this terrible God that plays so cruelly with his corporeal self. What God could be so bored, so unforgiving and do this to a dead man!? A God of Rogues, perhaps. And so he runs again: to the right and up an incline, left, right and right again up another incline toward the pillars once more. Each foot fall brings him closer and closer, the red rune shines bright in the gloom.

*SWISSSSHHH*

If he were alive, he's sure that feeling would make him vomit. He turns, calmly this time, and is face to face with the turning blue stone attached to his dead body.



((Almost!!))

((Not yet. We got mobs.))

((No, not a question to you guys. I'm trying to make it to the shrine.))

((What?))

((Nevermind.))

((We're just about done, Nalinor.))

((Cool.))



Running again. Can ghosts cry? the Rogue wonders as he is forced to take the same route by the Ogres and the dinner of Halfing they are now enjoying with much, much noise and careless eating. Are tears even real on a Spirit's face? He doesn't want to run! He doesn't want to turn this corner and that one! He DOES want the voices in his head to hush. He DOES want to be by his ruined dead body, left alone by his destroyed corpse. But up ahead is the glowing sigil on the pillar. It waits. It taunts.

*SWISSSHHH*



((Erg!!))

((Are you too far from the shrine?))

((I just need to find the quickest route is all. Lemme try again...))



The Rogue runs.

And he runs and runs and runs the same path: closer to this wall this time, closer to that one the next. He is forced down a different pathway once, but doesn't get far when once again --

*SHISSSHHH*



((Son-of-a-!!!))

((Breathe Nal, we're on our way.))

((The dang shrine is like RIGHT there!))

((Breathe, dude.))



The Rogue is left alone, left motionless.

He blinks.

The voices have stopped as well. He begins to wonder if this is what hell is like; to be trapped next to your own corpse and a spiraling stone for eternity. If this God of his has grown bored with even the running game...?!

But then the Rogue spots his Barbarian companion running toward his ghost. He waves but his comrade does not see. The Barbarian does seem to see the sparkling blue stone. He stoops and picks it up and runs on out of sight as the Rogue shouts after his friend, as he shouts to deaf ears.

*SWISSSHHH*

The pulling sensation again but this time forward, and he is standing next to the Barbarian. Scorpions erupt all around him out of the very stones of the dungeon floor. The Barbarian's Maul crushes them all into steaming smears of green and yellow and black gore. The Barbarian runs on and the Rogue tries to follow.



((Watch out for those Ogre's.))

((I'm taking a different route.))



The Rogue spies the pillars up ahead. He also sees his companions waiting as the Barbarian and he run up to greet them. There is a rush of wind and the Rogue screams again, and this time the sound reverberates throughout the subterranean tunnels. Electricity crackles throughout his arms and legs, up his torso and through his long dark hair. He can see his flesh fill out and gain texture. He flexes his fingers and can feel it! Red blasts of power fly at his eyes as his Cleric, his friend, bathes him in divinity, and his body becomes whole once more.

"I'm alive," says the Rogue.

Before his companions can reply, growls and shouts erupt from the hallway. An arrow thumps into the pillar with the blue rune next to the Rogue's head. Magic crackles by him and his hair stands on end as the Sorcerer kills an Ogre in one deadly strike.

The Rogue watches as Ogre's rush into view outside the door.

The Ogre that murdered him comes into the room.

He sees the Rogue and his eyes go wide for a few seconds in surprise. Soon the shock of seeing him standing melds into rage and the Ogre bares his teeth and lifts his Greatsword overhead. The Rogue notices with disgust two small Halfling fingers wedged in between the Ogre's sharp teeth as he charges.

A riot of movement from each side of the Rogue brings him out of his own shock. The Barbarian and Fighter rush by in a blur of clanking metal and jiggling chainmail as they rush the Ogre's.

More magic fills the air by the Rogue's head. Another Ogre dies.

Finally the Rogue acts.

He rushes up and circles around against the wall to the back of his murderer.

He picks his spot while the Ogre strikes swords with the Fighter.

He slithers in.

He strikes the Ogre's kidney, a kidney the size of a Tasty Ham. Blood drops rake across the Rogue's face as he has his revenge.



((Okay guys. Nice job. Finish out.))






The End

[4elements]

Awesome story, thanks for sharing heh.

[binnsr]

sweet story -- very well done

p.s. we need some real emoticons on this site

[Ministry]

Very cool.

/cheer
/salute

[Uamhas]

Inspiring! Most excellent Snip, and thank you for sharing that.

[Uamhas]

REROLLED
<Bainidhe Dub is rolled as a drow rogue. Controller decides drow rogue must go, rerolls that character slot as a human cleric named Uamhas Nodons...>
Uma is annoyed.
Her favorite ring has a crack in the gem, the helmet she's forced to wear makes her look like a freak and she is sick to the death of healing stupid... and the rewards she's offered for her most recent quest include shields, leather armor, and ~sigh~ something suitable for a rogue. The representatives for the Twelve are not known for their abundant sensitivity to the needs of their contracted adventurers.
None of which matters in the grand scheme of things as she is compelled to search out fellow adventurers to provide divine assistance during dangerous situations. Even though her mind screams out for her to go solo and stealth her way through the ambush and traps, the curse that has been laid upon her will not permit it. Alas, such finesse of form and plan is no longer available to her- and hasn't been for some time, now.
It doesn't matter how long it's been, though, she still remembers how it felt to be a sleek, drow rogue, beholden to none... Not this fat, ungainly cow of a human with no skill at stealth whatsoever. She makes more noise trying to sneak than when she moves normally! For every time she stumbles through the acidic splash of a trap, her soul cringes... but even if she casts the spell that makes her sensitivity to traps heightened, she'll barely approach half the capabilities she once knew.
TREASURE!! She could cry at the paltry excuse for loot that is her lot! Since bound to this form and unable to avoid the duties of a cleric, her finds have proved at best mediocre... and at worst, dismal. This is no life for a rogue-at-heart.
Yes, Uma is annoyed.

[Deg]

Excellent work!

[Bekki]

Very Cool!

Good Job Snip.

/Salute

[Ereli]

*laughs and claps*

Great tale Nalinor! Oh ye of the paper armor and stout heart! *shakes her head*

Erelei

[SniptheShadow]

REROLLED
<Bainidhe Dub is rolled as a drow rogue. Controller decides drow rogue must go, rerolls that character slot as a human cleric named Uamhas Nodons...>
Uma is annoyed.
Her favorite ring has a crack in the gem, the helmet she's forced to wear makes her look like a freak and she is sick to the death of healing stupid... and the rewards she's offered for her most recent quest include shields, leather armor, and ~sigh~ something suitable for a rogue. The representatives for the Twelve are not known for their abundant sensitivity to the needs of their contracted adventurers.
None of which matters in the grand scheme of things as she is compelled to search out fellow adventurers to provide divine assistance during dangerous situations. Even though her mind screams out for her to go solo and stealth her way through the ambush and traps, the curse that has been laid upon her will not permit it. Alas, such finesse of form and plan is no longer available to her- and hasn't been for some time, now.
It doesn't matter how long it's been, though, she still remembers how it felt to be a sleek, drow rogue, beholden to none... Not this fat, ungainly cow of a human with no skill at stealth whatsoever. She makes more noise trying to sneak than when she moves normally! For every time she stumbles through the acidic splash of a trap, her soul cringes... but even if she casts the spell that makes her sensitivity to traps heightened, she'll barely approach half the capabilities she once knew.
TREASURE!! She could cry at the paltry excuse for loot that is her lot! Since bound to this form and unable to avoid the duties of a cleric, her finds have proved at best mediocre... and at worst, dismal. This is no life for a rogue-at-heart.
Yes, Uma is annoyed.

Nice!

I like the idea that your character realized what it was BEFORE it was rerolled as a Cleric.

This kind of story idea hit me by contemplating various layers of fantasy and reality, like pulling back the layers of an onion, except in our case (MMO gamers) the onion is made up of pixels.

Uamhas, you've picked a pathway I didn't see.

Very cool!



And thanks for the compliments everyone. I know the tale is a little bit different from other things I've read on these forums before but I thought I'd jot it down, submit it for all eyes and see what people thought about it.

And I hope folks didn't mind.

You see what happens when both my manager and supervisor are gone for the day during my slow season at work. haha

Thanks again everybody.

Snip

[SniptheShadow]

*laughs and claps*

Great tale Nalinor! Oh ye of the paper armor and stout heart! *shakes her head*

Erelei

But Healer Goddess, I love my paper armor!

Lots of fun doing Twilight Forge the other night, btw.

And let's get VON 5-6 done soon, too.

See you in-game, Erelei. Oh Goddess of the Red glowing Divinity.

*Zap!* right in the eye.

Snip (Nalinor)

[scampb]

Love the story. Nice change from all the complaining and whining on the boards. Would like to see more of this kind of stuff. Would do it myself but don't have the talent, I am a drunkard of a Dwarven Barbarian.

[Galvis]

VERY cool stuff guys... Snip and Uamhas. This is the kind of stuff I really wish I had a talent for. Unfortunately, the only stories that come to my mind are the ones that start off with... "So I was hanging with my Buddy and we were ****faced drunk...."

And I think we all know the end to those stories, so the telling just isn't very interesting.