//------------------------------//
// Chapter Thirteen: The Claiming of the Cask 
// Story: Daring Do and the Cask of Undeath 
// by PaddedCell 
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It went on for a good ten minutes. The old stone elevator ground downward, screeching against the sides of the shaft as it lowered toward the very bottom. As it descended, Dust consulted her mother’s journal once more.
“These notes pretty much cut off at this point..” She murmured. Daring trotted up beside her, nodding solemnly. She sighed.
“I hadn’t included it in my journal, but Sir Finstream actually topped himself soon after his exploration of this place. Other contemporary sources seem to point to the fact that he was going to write about what’s down here, but he changed his mind.. And fell on his sword instead.” Dust’s eyes went wide.
“I.. I see.” She uttered, looking down at the unfinished notes. “So, we have no instruction on what lies down here.. No help, no guidance?” Daring shook her head.
“’Fraid not. Well, besides mythological accounts. I did write up a section on the mythological view of the Underworld throughout early civilisations, but there was nothing too specific in there. Descriptions of the place were pretty vague.”
“Let me see.. ‘The halls of the Lower World are as ice; cold and dim, opaque and covered in pale mist. High pillars hold up the world above, and empty halls do keep the demons locked away from mortal eye’. That doesn’t sound good.” Dust muttered. The elevator reached the bottom, hitting the ancient, dusty floor with a crunch as something was crushed beneath it. Upon inspection, Fuse determined the foreign object to be a centuries-old skeleton, at which Dust shuddered. Somepony had been trapped down here. Had died of starvation and lethargy, only to be ground to dust by some huge machine centuries later. No remembrance, no reverence, no redemption.

The group of explorers followed their changeling captors down a network of icy-cold hallways, which bore remarkable resemblance to those described in the early text that Dust had read over. High pillars bore carven images of ghoulish countenances, and smooth stone serpents coiled around the pylons, looking down on these new intruders with unmoving gaze. The explorers continued onward and down many hundreds of crumbling stone steps into the heart of the Underworld. As she passed a great many standing stones of some kind, Captain Rhododendron made an unpleasant discovery.
“Those oblong constructions, standing against the walls, they’re..”
“Sarcophagi.” Daring finished her shaky observation with an emotionless affirmative.
“If they’re sarcophagi, then where are the bodies?” Cistern droned from somewhere at the back of the group. Indeed, only about a quarter of these stone coffins were sealed shut. The majority seemed to have been forced open from the inside, and lay derelict of their contents. The group exchanged worried glances, and the changelings hurriedly checked their weapons to make sure they were loaded and primed to fire. After the battle with those rotted things on the lake, the insectoid troops weren’t taking any chances.

Reaching the bottom of another staircase and entering into a cavernous hall, they were met with a hideous sight. The undead stood to attention – hundreds of them. The chamber was illuminated by strange, glowing stones set into cages upon the rows of pillars. Most of the undead were wrapped in burial shrouds and rusted old armour, having been buried down here in the early stages of civilisation, wherein society had been little more than squabbling barbarian tribes at constant war with one another before any mention of Harmony whatsoever. These undead barbarians stood motionless on their hind hooves, holding ancient rusted swords and spears to their sides as if falling into line under the watchful eye of a commanding officer. These ponies were alike to those Dust had studied all the way back at Solum – Ceremonial head-binding had led to reptilian, stunted facial growth and the body structure seemed to have been altered for upright movement by some painful procedure much like the head-binding. Icy blue light glowed from the empty sockets which once bore eyes, and opaque, cold liquid drizzled from the sockets like ancient tears. As the explorers drew closer, each row of undead bowed down in an odd-looking, disjointed show of reverence and respect. Soon, they reached the centre of the room. A huge stone container stood there on a great stone dais, cylindrical in shape and covered in forgotten and unutterable inscriptions. Presently, one of the undead stepped shakily forward and blocked their path to the container, raising his sword. This zombie wore intricately forged metal armour swathed in decayed blood and linen wrapping, and a heavy, horned metal helm sat upon his head. He spoke then, his voice sounding like a whispering echo in the chamber which was silent beside the rattling of ancient bones as the assembled undead looked on.
“You seek the Casket of Undeath, do you not?” He uttered. The group nodded and agreed. “I am Karn-Lochtum, Seventh King of the Holrum Clan. I stand as Champion for my brothers..” He motioned around, and the masses of undead standing about him let out a great cheering and whooping from their rotten throats and empty skulls. “And who is your Champion? We shall fight to the death, and he who is victorious will be granted passage to the Casket, without harm or hassle from my brothers.” The group looked among themselves.

“I stand as Champion.” Captain Rhododendron called out, throwing off her Captain’s overcoat and standing on her hind hooves defiantly. The undead all around burst into hoarse, rattling laughter. 

Karn-Lochtum grinned sadistically, shaking his skinless head.
“A mare? Champions are to be stallion-folk.” At this, the ancient warriors nodded. The Captain could only smirk, grabbing a sword from the rotten hoof of the nearest warrior and swinging it around like a professional.
“Afraid to challenge a mare? So cowardly..” She laughed, standing on guard. The undead Champion seethed, drawing his own rusted and stained blade.
“So be it, mare. You will fall to my blade!” And with that, it began. The Champions fought very differently; the ancient warrior used brute force with many heavy swings and sheer blows intended to knock back the opposition. The Captain, on the other hand, used her nimble agility and almost dance-like fencing skill to put up a sharp defence and make quick and precise assaults on the opposing Champion. For every strong swing of his blade, she ducked and leapt to avoid his movements, diving around him and levelling blow after blow against her rival. He grew more and more enraged as her blade dug into his joints and what little flesh he had left, his attacks growing frenzied and unpredictable. Eventually, his efforts paid off. One heavy-handed hack of the blade landed right on target, smacking the Captain’s sword out of her hoof. It clanked across the floor, smashing in half as it ground to a halt. The undead Champion merely grinned, stepping forward as the Captain retreated a few steps. This was a fight to the death – whether one opponent was disarmed or not.

“Captain!” Dust called. All turned to see her as she produced the Key from her saddlebag. The little dagger glowed with a strange aura as Dust held it aloft. “Catch!” And with that, she tossed the knife to Captain Rhododendron, who caught it deftly in her muzzle. Upon realising what his opponent now wielded, Karn-Lochtum could only manage a strangled cry of resistance before the Captain swiped the blade diagonally through the air in his direction. He was cleaved in two, rotten innards and brittle bones dropping to the floor in a mess. The undead warriors all around could only look on in shock at what had happened.
“I won your challenge, now you open this thing.” Rhododendron called out. The warriors, bound supernaturally by duty and honour as they had been in life, acquiesced to the Captain’s request. Ten of the horde trudged forward on cold, skeletal hooves and took up places around the cylinder. Digging their hooves into carven indentations around it, they walked around the container in a circle, unscrewing some mechanism within. After a few moments, there was a clunk. The front of the container slid downward, revealing the contents.

There, sitting on a small pedestal, was the object of their search. Dust felt a wave of cold nausea wash over her at the sight of it, remembering that dark, malformed nightmare image of it. The Cask of Undeath was as she remembered it in her dream, but now in frightening clarity. It was a small, squat box of rotting old wood, standing on four tiny carven legs. Two doors adorned its face, sealed shut with once-boiling tar. The box itself was bound shut with chains, locks and ropes. One could only begin to imagine what horror lay within that demanded the Cask be sealed in this thorough, frenzied manner. Now, the changelings took over the operation proper. The Cask was to be sealed in a crate and transported to Queen Chrysalis herself for some nefarious purpose or other, so the transit began now.

There was a myriad of clicking noises. Turning to look, the adventurers and the remainders of the crew were being held at gunpoint once again. This time, the changelings were backing away – to leave them to their fate within the Underworld. Four changeling troopers carried the Cask in their hooves, retreating out of the chamber. As the rest backed outside, something was tossed back in, and the changelings ran. A grenade clinked to the floor, rolling to a stop next to one of the pillars beside the entrance. The earth-rending explosion knocked the ancient pillar down across the doorway, effectively sealing the way out.
“What do I always say? We’re dead. Properly this time.” Cistern droned. Dust facehooved, and instantly began trying to formulate an escape plan. Turning around to ask the others, she realised that the undead warriors all around were looking quite lost and distant. The glow in their eyes was fading, and their arms hung limp at their skinless sides. Fuse and a few other crewmembers trotted around the chamber, weaving between pillars and searching for some other exit.
“Captain!” One of the crew called out eventually. Some undead turned to look blankly. Captain Rhododendron galloped over to see the discovery.

A cold wind whirled down through a worn-looking aperture in one wall; a funnel through which the drainage chambers above could be emptied. It was a long shot. However, it could work. Daring inspected the opening.
“It’s wide enough for one pony at a time. Slow, but effective.” And with that, it began. Under the ever-watching gaze of the undead, the adventurers began clambering into the drainage pipe. It was cramped, and icy-cold water trickled down from somewhere further up the diagonally slanting tube. The sides of the tunnel were worn but sharp, and pieces crumbled away as the crew crawled upward into the drainage system. But as they crawled further, there was a rumble. Pieces of rubble dropped from the tunnel’s roof as Dust crawled out into the wide-open drainage chamber above. Turning back, she realised that the tunnel had collapsed behind her.
“I think we lost somepony.” An officer called out, coughing loudly due to the dust and fumes. Apparently, a now-dead adventurer lay in the tunnel to their rear, and Dust felt a pang of sadness and guilt at having not been able to get the entire team out. Lighting up their torches, the remaining group looked around. The drainage chamber was a high-walled, blank cavern of sorts, though which drained and stagnant water trickled down through tunnels carved into the solid rock. The group proceeded onward and upward, clambering up through forgotten tunnels and pipes until, finally..

The glowing light of day pierced the shroud of darkness as Dust and the crew emerged from a winding cave tunnel. Brushing slimy weeds and vines aside, they stepped out onto a rocky cliff and into the bright light that filtered down through the trees of the Everfree Forest. Climbing around the cliff side and onto the flat ground of the forest, they were just in time to see a cargo helicopter raise above the trees and fly off, tailed by a troop of changeling officers.
“Damn.” Rhododendron uttered. Daring stepped up beside her, smirking.
“We’ll get ‘em yet, don’t worry.”