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If you READ BOTH FORKS of Chapter 6 (Humane Hero/Merciless Monster), then put a tally mark in the Sneaky Peeky box on the last page.
If, however, you MADE YOUR CHOICE AND STUCK WITH IT, then put a tally mark in the Carefully Consistent box on the last page.
If you also READ ONLY ONE OF THE MAIN FORKS in Chapter 2 (Pseudo Psamaritan/Package Pilferer), then put a second tally mark in Carefully Consistent - you just weren’t supposed to know it was a thing back then. Oh, and good job!
The three adventurers head toward the big iron doors at the back of the fort, weapons at the ready. Pannych carries a torch in her off hand, Vector shines the flashlight on his rifle, and Phyr carries the trap detector.
About twenty yards from the doors, the trap detector switches to TRAP DETECTED. They approach the door slowly: Vector and Phyr go to each side, while Pannych stows her sword before slowly opening each door, careful to shield her body with them.
After nothing happens for a moment, they step around to look inside the doorway. Pannych spots a pressure plate just past the threshold, running the breadth of the doorway, and they all step carefully over it. The wide but shallow room appears empty, except for a barrel full of torches on each side of the door. They are able to spot a narrow horizontal slit just opposite the door.
“Hang on, let me try something,” Pannych says.
“Famous last words,” Phyr retorts. “At least let me get clear of the room first?” He and Vector step carefully back out and around the corner.
Pannych considers how to safely trigger the trap, then decides to hide behind one torch barrel while triggering the pressure plate with the other. It takes her a couple minutes to maneuver the blocking barrel into place, then she crouches behind it and tips the other barrel at an angle, rolling it along the round bottom until one edge is raised above the plate. She lowers it and huddles tightly behind the barrel as the plate clicks down, then the noise of machinery is heard briefly, followed by a shuddering groan and finally the squeal of rending metal. Then there’s a loud crash and snap.
Nothing fires from the slit. Phyr looks at his trap detector after the noise has stopped for some time, and it reads green. “Huh. Broken,” he says.
In the back corners of the room, there’s a pair of wooden doors that each open outward onto a staircase: one up to the parapet, one down to the fortress proper. They head down, Pannych in the lead, Vector at the rear, and Phyr with his eyes on the trap detector, still green.
At the bottom of the staircase, they emerge into a hall with several doors to each side. They find what are presumably captain’s and officers’ quarters, with desks and writing materials and books, but nothing of apparent value or use. There are also troop quarters on one side, with tightly packed beds, footlockers, and dressers. The other side is a mess hall with attached kitchen - plenty to cook with, nothing to fight with. Right before a doorless staircase at the far end of the hall, they find a closet full of cleaning supplies.
Down a level, they find a high-ceilinged room filled with barrels stacked on end and piled sacks of moldy grain. The place smells fetid, they hear rats scurrying about and a regular drip of water, and the occasional bug appears at the edge of their torchlight before scuttling away. At the far end, there is yet another staircase leading down - still no sign of any traps.
They next find a proper dungeon, with three floors of iron-barred cells. There is a desk outside of a gate at the entrance, with a ring of keys laying next to a candle, a pile of moldy paper, and a cobweb-shrouded quill and inkwell. All the cells are wide open, however, and there appears to be nothing in them except wooden benches, buckets, and moldy hay.
Until the third floor, at the very bottom.
One of the cells has a broken wall, opening onto another hall sloping gently but clearly downward, and curving similarly to the right. There is a major architectural shift, as well: instead of the utilitarian stonework of the fortress, the stone here is cut with ornate patterns and fit together elegantly, with no need for mortar. Instead of torch sconces, there are magically glowing stones set into the wall at regular intervals, dim but still alight. Phyr douses the torch with his Chill spell, and Vector straps it to his go-bag. The passage is wide enough for one comfortably, but not two abreast.
Whether by enchantment or clever engineering, there is no condensation on the walls or floor as there was in the fortress. Consequently, everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, so piled up that it is wispy and almost fluffy at the top. No footprints are visible in it, not even the floor itself - just a gradually undulating surface.
And Phyr notices his trap detector has turned red.
“Whoah, trap alert,” he says.
“Duly noted, thanks,” Pannych replies.
“Who do you think built this place,” Vector asks, staring up at the high ceiling, comfortable even for him.
“No idea,” Pannych says, “But back up. If I trigger a trap, I don’t want you two getting hit by it.” They give her about five paces.
“Hey, why does this hall curve,” Phyr asks. “I mean, it’s too regular to be natural - obviously deliberate. But why?”
“Fighting,” Pannych says.
“Huh?”
“Here, hold on.” She stops advancing, and backs up toward the other two a couple paces. “OK, take that torch, and try to swing it like a sword at me.” Phyr holsters his blaster and does so, but it’s tremendously awkward with the curve going away to his right. “But see, I don’t have that problem, since the curve goes the other way for me.” She raises her katana and waggles it suggestively along a striking path.
“Neat,” Phyr says. “Who came up with that?”
“The Maccabees, I think,” Pannych says as they resume their forward progress.
“The who now?”
Click.
“HIDE!”
Shink-thunk!
A metal skewer buries itself in the log where Pannych used to be, and she appears right behind Vector. The log is split two feet down its length.
“Gah! You OK, Pannych,” Phyr asks.
“Fine!”
They inspect the trap: the log is firmly wedged in place, completely blocking the path. The thick layers of dust are barely disturbed, and they can’t even make out the edge of the pressure plate Pannych triggered. Finally, she sighs and says, “Dammit. You guys are gonna hate this.”
“What,” Vector asks.
“Wait here, and don’t touch anything. I mean it.”
They do as asked. Five minutes later, she comes back with a broom. Phyr takes one look at it and groans.
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