An episodic adventure using ‘Iron Dungeoneer!’ rules.

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What Ēlin initially thought were stairs as he ran past earlier, upon closer inspection turns out to be a sloping hole dug into the floor ‘>‘.
Though fairly certain he can work himself down the shaft he decides against it, not liking the thought of that kind of exertion into an unknown depth.
He leaves the hole and the room in favor of less miserable exploration.

He returns to the hall north and a closed door ‘+‘ he passed on the way, a sturdy wood door that pushes open with little effort.

In the passage beyond, the stone blocks of the wall and floor return to a finer construction and passage begins to slope upward again…

as he rounds a corner he sees a familiar shape in a new room.
Another large ant ‘a‘, motionless.

He moves with deliberate, soft steps intent on on surprise as the insect lay dormant.
It does not move as he closes upon it, awakening only after he’s delivered a crushing blow to hard chitin with the pummel of his dagger.

Stunned, the ant twitches and shakes as it attempts to shamble away but the big youth drives his foot against the square head ramming it hard against the stone floor, cracking the head and exposing the goo within.

He exits the room.

To the south he walks down a narrow rooty passage that…

terminates at another open hole ‘>‘ in the floor.
He wonders if the over-sized ants had created them, burrowing up from a nest beneath, raiding. Again, he decides not to explore that thought by crawling below.

Instead he moves off to the north returning to familiar territory of the second room he had entered earlier within this so called cellar.

Cautiously he approaches the mushroom patch ‘,‘ and slides by without incident…

 entering an open side entrance and walks through an empty larder.

He tries the door but it does not open.
He rattles the old handle a bit then thumps the door with a knee and it gives way, opening back to the room.

He moves to the west passage and new, old areas to explore.

A nondescript passage…

gives way to a room occupied by something purple and twinkling ‘!‘…

and to something low and sleeping ‘J‘.

He slips into the room, rolling leathered feet heel to toe moving quietly to the purple vial, never taking his eye from the serpent.
In a single fluid motion he deftly lifts it from the floor, places it upon his person then smoothly unsheathes his blade and continues toward the snake.

Closing the gap between himself and the still sleeping serpent he slashes the single edged weapon across its thick, white back…

and is immediately matched with a quick, reflexive bite…

and sidesteps to avoid the snake wrapping tight around his leg.

He presses the silver edged attack and strikes the snowy scaled serpent again…

and then again once more.

The serpent attempts to crawl away from the lacerating edge but it continues to find the white flesh and cut true.

Caught now in the throws of death, the serpent madly begins to convulse, knotting back upon itself rolling about the feet of the youth.
He slams a foot down upon the mess and drives the dagger at the first immobile spot he finds and waits for the writhing to stop.

He continues south…

to a closed door…

flippantly opened.

For a moment in his still rational mind, he realizes the mistake.
For a moment in his still rational mind, he stands upon a stony floor.
The gas fills his nostrils and penetrates his lungs and the dungeon disappears.
His mind traveled for lost eons swallowed by infinite geometric lights glowing green and gold, amethyst and bronze as it raced toward a horizon of perpetual goldenrod, turquoise and dawn.

And, after seeming lifetimes of inter-planar travel the effects of the mystery gas began to lessen and he wills his physical self to rest…

and the journey ends where it began and he succumbs to the physical plane of the Iron Prison.

Caught off guard by a rigged door, damned lucky that no one or no thing was waiting on the other side to greet him.
He rises, his mind still addled by the lingering effects of the gas and
strolled the hall to the east in a languid dreamy state.
Thoughts turn fanciful as they linger long on colonies of mischievous kobolds sowing chaos throughout the dungeon by setting traps for unwitting passers through.

The hall turns to the north and he views the room he was previously in.

He turns back in favor the unexplored hall to the south.
His mind still whimsically dreaming of kobolds and their wonderfully magical gasses he rounds the corner south and…

Now, thoroughly dosed and deeply contemplative Ēlin meanders the mildewed halls of Angband, wandering in wonder.

End Part 1

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