The Dungeon Crawlers

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You are a Dungeon Crawler.
Taken from your prison cell, fitted with armor and thrown into a dungeon to protect those who imprisoned you.
And that's all the rest of your life will be. Unless you die, of course. Which is always a possibility. But at least try to enjoy your sentence as a Dungeon Crawler. It actually isn't that bad once you get used to it. Again, if you don't die.

The camp outside the dungeon is bustling and everyone is gearing up to face the dangers inside. Some are crying, some are training, and some are.. sleeping. What are you doing in the midst of this chaos?​

- Name -
- Equipment -
- Appearance -​
- Name -
For she does not remember being called any other
- Equipment -
Twin Daggers, cloak, bow and arrows, a bottle to refill with water or potions, money pouch or what use to hold monkey now holds unique items usually trophies of some kind but only she knows.
- Appearance -

Nightshade had been training. She has never known why she was brought here. Other than that her father sold her. Her relationship with family is something she doesn't talk about. Actually many never really get to ask or speak t her long for she usually tries to kill them. Not one has spoken to her long enough for her to perhaps like them enough to share her own feelings. She seems heartless but isn't if they pass her first impersonation test. Nightshade isn't afraid of making conversation but will things change as she is once more thrown into battle. Only time will tell.​
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He does not know his real name
Equiqment:A ancient sword he claimed from a previous dungeon,a pouch for potions,a mask,leather vest to keep warm,and a small katana for sneak attacks.
Shadow is training he is here only to serve his time instead of being jailed.It sounds stupid to Chose dungeon over jail but he didnt care.He had adventures to tell and things to discover and he loved action so thats his real reason.Shadow doesnt remeber anything from his past which makes him wonder why did anybody not tell him who his parents were or his name.​
Name: StormDeath

Equipment: Bow and Arrow, Drakonslayer sword on his back, Three daggers in his belt, and two daggers in each boot.

Appearance: StormDeath wears a black knee length tunic, black trousers, and leather calf high boots. He wears a leather cuirass style breastplate, and hardened leather bracers.

Personality: He is a man of few words. He is a brilliant tactician, and people used to look up to him for it... Before he was thrown in prison for killing three men in a bar fight with a spoon. Not the biggest of men, he is a vicious fighter, but loyal, and will protect you if you earn his trust.

Abilities: strength, speed, agility
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Name: Wyatt Thornton

Equipment: One handed iron sword and a light copper shield.

Appearance: Wyatt looks like he's a teenager (partly because he is). He has blond scraggy hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. He's stands at 6'1", and is a bit lanky. He wears a battered brown tunic and leggings, strong leather boots, and a leather breastplate. His sheathed sword and shield sit on his back.

Personality: Wyatt is weird. He does random things, and often will spout random gibberish as he does. He is overly friendly and hyper. He got sent to jail for attacking many people on a sugar high.

Abilities: What Wyatt lacks in strength he exceedingly makes up for in agility. He is very light on his feet, and is able to run very fast for long periods of time. He can maneuver himself very easily, and although he doesn't hit hard, he is hard to hit.


Wyatt looks around at the other preparing, a smile on his face. It's as if he doesn't care that he could possibly die!
He walks over and stands near StormDeath. He sees a small jar and puts his left hand in....and gets it stuck. "Oh. Crap. Uhh..." He turns to StormDeath. "Can you help me get this thing off??"
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StormDeath turns from the target he is turning into a pincushion. "Sure," he says and pulls a dagger out of his belt. At the wary look on the guys face, StormDeath chuckles. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you." Flipping the dagger and catching the blade. He brings the hilt down on the jar, smashing it to pieces. "What's your name, kid?"
Zack smiles and wipes his hand off. "Thanks. My name's Zackary Thornton. I'm here because I attacked a lot of people while I was on a sugar high..." He pushes some off the broken jar into a pile with his foot. "What's your name?" Zack spies a small footstool and walks to it, crunching a jar shard under his foot as he does. He sits down and faces StormDeath with a smile.
Nightshade noticed two speaking. She continued to practice her jabs with her blades. Both seeming to be used as one neither seeming to be apart from the other. She thought about speaking to them but chose not to feeling perhaps if she talked someone may think she was a easy target. Which would end up in an early fight which for now she didn't want. Nightshade chose to wait for now. Unless she was spoken to. For the moment her focus seemed to be on practice.​
Training Shadow heard the two getting along and continued practicing his hand-to-hand combat.Getting tired he decided to do a few more hits and have a quick nap.While walking towards the tent he said to the two"Be careful where you put your hand it might not come out nextime"walking away doing a bit of a evil laugh.Arriving at his tent he sets his weapons down and lays down in the little bed.Slowy drifting off he thinks about of what he remebers about his path his aunt,uncle,and his cousin is who took him in but was taken from them when he was a baby.

The blonde even courtesan hung limply between the burly biceps of the two guardsmen. She didn't struggle but she would be damned if she was going to help them throw her into the lower levels to be maimed and probably killed. Her bare soles slid across the floor as she was half carried and half dragged towards the threshold. Finally, she was pulled into the lift and two slaves turned the wheels to lower her down to the lower levels leading into the monster infested dark.

"Shame to be putting this one down there," one guard said to the other, looking down to his side over and across the elf's lithe body, "Best they leave her with us in the barracks for a wee bit of fun."

He grasped her roughly by the hair, turning her towards himself and kissed her roughly on her berry stained lips and vagrantly massaged her bosom. The woman, pushed against him with both her arms, nails clicking against his armour and tried to protest. Being that she was under half his size it was a futile gesture.

"I'm not sure she'd last much longer at our hands," the other guard commented, chuckling mirthfully, as the girl struggled, bare feet slipping about on the floor as she tried to let gravity separate them and failed.

Finally the lift reached the bottom, the wooden slats bound in iron booming through the cavern as it came to rest. The entire area was lit by torches in their sconces, the shadows long and deep. She imagined only vigilance kept everything from goblins to lurker beasts from raiding the camp.

"Bottom Floor," the guard holding her stated as he broke off kissing her, "Time to die little wench."

With that the guard cast her away from him. Moving backwards, she stumbled, and began to fall in a wild figure of pale skin, golden hair and billowing black silk. She attempted to twist her body and managed to catch herself with her hands before she measured her full length on the floor. Then she just lay there several long moments, peering about and getting her bearings.

Name: Assallya Kressair
Advantages: Sorceress, Apoethecarist, Sage
Weaknesses: Pathetic Fighter
Equipment: Curved Dagger, Healing Potion, Magical Ring of Regeneration that closes her wounds, Spellbook.
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Nightshade glanced seeing another arrival. Except unlike the others it was another girl. Her mouth hidden underneath her mask. She straightened up and put up the daggers a bit curious now watching seeing how long it might take for her to gather her barrings. Nightshade wasn't sure if she should head over to her but found herself doing so anyways. Soon she was standing above her but remained silent as if testing the girl for something.​
"The names StoemDeath, former general in the king's military. I was imprisoned after killing three men in a bar fight with a spoon." He sits next to Wyatt, and says,"we don't know when the doors open. Let's try to get some sleep. Ally?" He says as he holds out his hand to shake.
Assallya Kressair saw a dozen prisoners in her immediate area from where she lay upon her stomach. Most had paused in the midst of what they were doing and openly stared. Women were a fairly uncommon event in such prisons. They probably hadn't seen something like her in a score of moons, if not years. One man with a patch over his eye was fletching arrows using some sort of dried and flattened moss or something instead of feathers. Others stood about practicing their fighting skills against wooden targets, either hurling daggers or slapping a wooden dummy with the flat of his blade.

The blonde elf peered up at the dark garbed woman with the red blonde hair through heavily mascaraed eyelashes as she approached. Assallya hadn't been expecting another woman down here in the depths on the edge of oblivion. It was something of a relief. The last thing she wanted was to be locked in a prison with dozens of men that hadn't seen a woman in years. That could get ugly.

"Oh," she said by way of greeting to the girl standing before her, "by Sharess' tits and Myrkul's shrivelled balls it's good to see another woman down here."

Reaching up with one slender arm, hoping to be helped up, she extended a small hand with long dainty fingers that were perfectly manicured in ebony black and dusted with silver and gold that made them look like the stars overhead they would never again see.
Nightshade listened to the new woman. Seeing the hand she simply let her own out to help her up. "It is nice to see another female after so long." She replied still deciding if the two might should stick together against all these men. It may be nice to have someone be able to watch her back. There was just many questions on her mind. The most simple was would she be annoying or give Nightshade any reason to want to kill her or would she prove useful to keep alive.

Nightshade knew many had seemed to pause watching the two. As if waiting on something perhaps the first fight before the doors to see if someone opened. Perhaps to see if someone might live longer than ten minutes around her. What they were after was unknown to Nightshade and she really didn't care.​
Waking up from the loud noise outside he looked and saw there was another person.This time it was different it was a female.Losing his intrest quickly he got up and helped himself too some ale at the mini bar they have.Looking around for a table to sit at he saw the kid who got his hand stuck in a jar and the man who helped him.Grabbing an extra chair he sat at the table with the two"Excuse me but I just came here to check to see if this kid would stick has hand in anything else he shouldn't"he said looking at the man who got his hand stuck in a jar.
Taking Nightshade's hand, Assallya pulled and rose, her bracelets and anklets jingling. The courtesan was indeed beautiful, the type that would drive most men to lust and most women to jealousy, with a heart shaped face and small slightly upturned nose. It was obvious she was an elf from the ears tapering to a point without lobes and the black stones hanging from the lower ear ridges.

Assallya had to wonder why the girl helping her hadn't spoken. Normally one asked if someone needed help, despite the obvious, instead of just holding out a hand. Maybe the woman was mute? There was also the mask she wore and the garb. Why where the mask here of all places? It did simply scream "Thief" or "Assassin" to the world at large.

Adjusting her top, seating her breasts more securely inside the small brassiere and adjusting the fall of her satchel bag and the curved dagger at the back of her waist she introduced herself.

"Hail and thank you for your help," she began, thanking Nightshade for helping her to her bare feet, "I am Assallya Kressair, sorceress, witch, and apparently now a known murderer. What is your name and why were you sent down here?"
Nightshade remained just to watch a moment. Then came the part that always came introduction and of course the question why one was down here. "I wouldn't thank me just yet." Nightshade replied first before giving her own name. "I'm Nightshade" She replied then paused at the second question. "My reason for being down here like a few others. Is my own. I don't share just when someone new comes around." She replied still determining her thoughts as if they were arguing against one another now. Though she never moved her hand to her daggers. Perhaps it was the fact this woman claimed to be a witch.​
Name: Ben Fjord
Equipment: Sword, armour. Quick fingers.
Appearance: Red hair, pimply, and short.

Ben paused and pulled at the breast plate the guard had given him. It dug into his armpits and made him sweat.
The leg gear itched, and the helmet obscured most of his vision. He most regretted the heavy thatched gloves that impeded his fingers. It didn't feel right.
When the guard had tossed him the sword, however, a sense of doom filled him. Even having never used such a weapon in his life, he could tell that it was something that would crumble upon contact of another blade. He'd picked at the edge with his fingernail; an piece came off.
The tree swayed above him. It was bare and unhealthy in spite of the flourishing surrounding countryside. In fact, during his sentence of two years, it had not changed a bit.
Grasping the defunct sword in hand, he gave it another thrust into the ground and pulled back another handful of dry, dusty earth. Now, digging, even the soul in this barren and a fruitless place, was the only thing that blade was good for.
He stabbed the ground again and pulled out his sword only to see that the tip had broken off. He stabbed again; and other chunk came out.
Finally, Ben found what he was digging for. It was a grey, greasy cloth bundle the size of his fist.
He stood up, and leaving his sword behind, walked back to the camp.
The Elven courtesan considered that for a brief moment. Apparently this Nightshade, a pseudonym if she'd ever heard one, wasn't the friendliest sort. That could be both good and bad, depending on what it was Nightshade wanted. If she was just looking for a plaything it could be very bad. If the woman needed her help that gave Assallya some power over her.

"What is it with this place?" Assallya said as she peered around at the impromptu collection of ramshackle buildings, "Beyond the obvious of course. Has no one unified the efforts of those here?"

Assallya's eyes alighted upon a hut seemingly made out of large scales, thankfully not some sort of dragon, but what appeared to be some sort of cave dwelling beast. Whatever it was she wanted nothing to do with hunting something like that. One thing for certain, she was not going to spend the rest of her thousand odd years of existence sunk down into a hole deep underground. She was going to have to organize this rabble into doing more than simply holding back the denizens that lurked beneath the surface. A few ideas had already come to mind. However, there was the other drawback. She was both a woman and a magician. Warriors rarely followed either.
Nightshade listened to the questions and glanced around to think of an answer. "Well it's a dungeon." She commented. "But that is probable the obvious part." Nightshade stated. "I've heard rumor that we are called dungeon crawlers. We are meant to fight or die. But I once heard a guard say we are her to protect them from something. Then he was dead." She said and though it couldn't be seen under her mask she now gave a smirk. She looked around once more. "And as you can see they often pick men. Probable why they have to keep adding more quit often." Nightshade commented so far the few they had replaced was killed by her hand not by whatever they may had been sent down her for, some where killed by others or starvation even which was a rather odd way to die. When they were usually given food till time to fight.

Nightshade then grew quiet once more thinking. So far she had not been given a reason to slight this woman's throat. For she was asking questions one should expect when first left somewhere. She also was curios if as a witch how this woman might last. Would it be long? Or just as short as others. Nightshade felt for now if the doors opened soon time would tell. If the doors did not her test would tell instead.​
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