The Devil's Due One-Shot
Author's Note: I finally finished typing up this fic! It took a while since I kept on changing and adding details. I tend to write my fics on paper first, and then type them up. It's not proof-read, so let me know if there's any mistakes.
Carver is having a long day. With the lack of sunlight in the pit, there isn't really a way to tell the time of day. It's common for adventurers to get fatigued due to a lack of sleep, or go mad because of sleep deprivation. That sort of fatigue is something Carver is used to, but this isn't the same feeling that is dwelling inside him.
It takes Carver a second to figure out what the feeling is: dread. The traps and monsters in the dungeon are increasing with each new section. There are more near-misses, and more close-to-death moments with less time between each.
Carver looks into the cove where camp is slowly being set up. Sybil rummages through the Bag of Holding for supplies, Eddard is stoking a small campfire, and Bubs is playing with Friend. Carver feels the corners of his mouth twitch into an almost smile. This group has become the gwarf's closest friends as each one, in their own way, completes him.
The smell of food catches Carver's attention. Sybil passes out a small rag with food to Eddard and Bubs. "Here you go, Eddard... Here you go, Bubs..." Sybil grabs another cloth, then places two sets of rations on top of it. Sybil always gave Carver double. She claims it's to 'keep the tank healthy', which is a statement Carver has no clue the meaning of. Though he will not complain about more food. More food is always better than no food. Sybil passes the cloth over to Carver. As soon as his hands touch hers, the air in the room shifts.
A sharp drop in temperature causes goosebumps to immediately form. Carver looks up and Sybil is no longer there handing him his meal. The image of his friend shifts into a different familiar face. He recognizes her immediately: Lythra from Group 4. The fourth group Carver took into The Pit. Carver let's out a startled noise as his food drops to the ground.
"Carver are you okay?" Gods, even her voice is just as he remembers. Carver can't even begin to form a response to seeing his dead friend once more. She repeats his name once. Then twice. Then three times. Lythra's voice grows more panicked with each repitition. A red stain appears and grows on her torso, with angry claw marks forming all over her body. Lythra starts shrieking, holding onto her stomach as she desperately tries to physically hold her body together.
"HELP! PLEASE! " The human cries out. Carver whips out his bramble weapon and starts swinging. It's no use. Invisible razghuls tear into Lythra's skin and the cave goes silent. Her body lays on the ground. Tears stream down Carver's face as he falls to his knees. He cradles the body of his friend and he lets out an anguishes scream. A hand reaches out and grabs Carver's face. With surprising strength, the limb forces him to look into Lythra's hollow eyes.
"You did this, Carver." Her voice is full venom. "I am like this because you let me die. Just like the others" Carver removes the corpse's hand from his face, and shoves the body away. This can't be happening. The sounds of razghuls and Lythra's words echo in the cove, assaulting Carver's ears with no way to block. The only thing that drowns out the noises is Carver's own screams.
Carver runs. His legs burn from overuse. His lungs are concrete inside of his chest, weighing him down. One corners is turned. Then two. Three. Four. Finally, the noises cease after five corners. It's safe now. There's nothing here. No one else --
"Cah - ver?" The gruff voice of D贸mhnull calls out from the darkness ahead. All relief shrivels up, and Carver prepares to run once more.
"No, no, no..." Carver whimpers, knowing what lies ahead in the darkness. The metallic footsteps are a familiar marching beat. A sound that was once soothing evokes only dread. The feeling grows as it gets near. Carver wants to run, but the his feet become one with the ground. Literally. Carver tugs at his limb, but the hard earth gives no leeway.
The body finally comes into Carver's limited view. The first thing Carver sees is the hair. Or, to be more precise, the lack of hair. What was once a glorious Mohawk is now blazing fire. The pride and joy that is a dwarf's beard is just exposed flesh and muscles. Its armour, once a shining silver, burns a bright red with a singed black covering everything that isn't metal. The sickly smell of burning flesh fills the air.
"Cah-ver. Buddy. You saw that trap. You saw me burn." D贸mhnull voice is barely recognizable now, with smoke and ash escaping with each breath. The dwarf continues to step forward with red footprints following behind. "It's all because of you."
Carver jolts his head up. "It's not my fault! I promise! It's--"
"It is. Your inaction killed us. Our blood is on your hands" The corpse points to Carver, and a sticky feeling engulfs the gwarf's shaking hands. He looks down at the blood that now drips off of each finger. All Carver can do is blubber out: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry". There's no acknowledgement from D贸mhnull. Instead the corpse whispers Carver's name. At first, it's just D贸mhnull. Then Lythra's voice joins in. Her ghostly visage joins the other spirit as they multiply. Carver immediately recognizes each new apparition. Tharn joins. Then Pip. Followed by Aelrin and Rune-Breaker. Each one adds more to the swirling cacophony of cries and curses. All Carver can do is watch and scream. His voice goes hoarse. So all that is left is to watch and listen.
"Carver. Carver. CARVER--"
"Carver!!!"
Carver doesn't know what frees him from the vison. Is it Bub's arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug? Or is it Sybil using her shovel to free Carver's foot from the pothole in the ground? Or maybe it's the gentle orb of light that Eddard casts, giving Carver a sense of warmth? Whatever is it, Carver looks to where his former friends were. The empty hallway of the cave greets him in return.
"I saw the bodies, and then there were ghosts-- I couldn't--" Carver can barely form a sentence. He stops trying to explain what happened. They already know. He knows too. Cave Madness. Bubs releases Carver from the hug. Bubs brushes off some dust.
"Carver scared everyone. Carver ran off screaming. Need healing?" Bubs' eyes are wide and full of tears.
"Are the visions gone now? No more Cave Madness hallucinations?" Sybil rummages through her pouch and pulls out one of the special healing potions. The potion would do nothing for the hallucinations. However, now is the time that Carver's body snaps out of fight-or-flight. Slowly the pain and soreness from pushing his body to the limit starts to be known. Carver takes the vial and takes a swig. The taste of garlic and other herbs takes effect immediately. Eddard, ever the wisest of the group, places a hand on Carver's shoulder
"What say you that we go topside again? We can get some warm food from the church, and rest wit'out fear of beasties" Eddard suggests with a reassuring smile. Carver's initial reaction is to raise his hand and protest against the detour. His debt looms over him and the payment date forever ticks closer. The siren's call of sleep and actual food calls to Carver. This urge for comfort quickly overpowers the anxieties of money. Carver let's out a nervous laugh.
"I think that might be a good idea." He agrees. Eddard produces the teleportation crystal and starts chanting the spell. In a brief moment, just before the incantation is complete, Carver looks away from the group. Right outside the glow of light, he sees them again: his previous party. Their bodies are less gruesome, with most of the blood and viscera no where to be seen. It's a grim reminder. One that Carver knows will forever haunt him no matter how many rest days he has.
Eddard releases the spell, allowing the magic to flow around the group. Carver turns his gaze back to his current party. His current friends. A wave of acceptance and determination fills Carver. As he leaves, there's only a single thought in the gwarf's head:
"I won't let anything happen to them."
