𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝'𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐬

Mahogany Drift approached the mouth of the dungeon once again, his hooves hesitating on the threshold where the darkness swallowed the last rays of the sun. The memory of his last visit, with its relentless terrors and near-death experiences, lingered in the back of his mind like a shadowy specter. He had spent the past few days in recovery, mulling over the dangers he had faced, yet his curiosity was far from quenched. He wasn’t about to let fear dictate his actions. The dungeon was a place of untold wonders, and Mahogany had always been drawn to the mysteries of the unknown.

This time, however, he was more cautious. As he took his first steps into the dungeon, the cool air rushed to greet him, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something ancient, something almost forgotten. He flinched at the slightest sound—a distant drip of water, the scuttling of unseen creatures in the walls—but each time, he forced himself to breathe deeply, reminding himself that he had prepared for this. He had survived the dungeon before, and he would survive it again.

Mahogany’s nerves were taut, strung like a bow ready to snap at the slightest provocation. But as the minutes passed and no danger presented itself, he slowly began to relax. The shadows that once seemed so menacing started to feel more familiar, more like old friends than lurking enemies. The dungeon was not just a place of fear; it was a world of beauty, a world filled with ancient history and the remnants of civilizations long past. It was a place of discovery, a treasure trove of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

His gaze was drawn to a glittering object on the ground ahead of him, half-buried in the dirt. Mahogany approached it cautiously, his heart quickening with anticipation. Brushing away the dust with his muzzle, he revealed a cluster of golden chunks, their metallic luster gleaming in the dim light. He lifted one of the chunks with his teeth, feeling its weight and the cold, smooth texture against his tongue. It was pure gold—heavy, solid, and valuable. His heart raced with excitement, the thrill of the find coursing through him like a shot of adrenaline.

This was more than just a simple discovery; it was a hint of something greater, something hidden deeper within the dungeon. Gold like this didn’t just appear out of nowhere—there had to be more, perhaps even a hidden treasure trove. Mahogany’s mind raced with possibilities. If he could find more of this gold, he could research how it came to be and if it had any value. For Mahogany, wealth was a way to fuel his passion, his research. He sees value in items to fill his journal with, and to display as a way to prove he was a discoverer to the rest of society. To other coursers, wealth might be a fortune of coins, or perhaps a loving family.

As he continued through the twisting corridors, the walls began to narrow, pressing in on him as if the dungeon itself were guiding him toward some hidden secret. After what felt like an hour of searching, his eyes caught sight of something unusual—a red X marked on the wall, faded but still visible against the gray stone. His pulse quickened at the sight. X marks the spot, he thought, excitement bubbling within him.

Mahogany approached the mark, running his muzzle over the rough surface, trying to discern its purpose. The stone felt cool to the touch, the edges of the X slightly raised, as though it had been carved there with purpose. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a clue—a sign that something lay hidden beyond. He scanned the area, searching for any indication of a hidden passage or a secret door. His mind buzzed with anticipation, his thoughts racing with the possibilities of what he might find.

To his left, he noticed a narrow passageway, almost hidden behind a curtain of thick, hanging moss. Carefully, he pushed the moss aside with his hoof, revealing a dark tunnel that sloped downward into the depths of the dungeon. The air was cooler here, the scent of earth stronger, and Mahogany felt a thrill of excitement rush through him as he stepped forward.

The tunnel was narrow and winding, forcing him to move slowly and deliberately as he navigated the twists and turns. The walls were rough, scraping against his sides as he passed, and the ceiling hung low, causing him to lower his head to avoid hitting the jagged rocks that protruded above. The deeper he went, the more the air seemed to change, growing stiller, thicker, as though he were descending into the very heart of the dungeon.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the tunnel widened into a small chamber. Mahogany stepped cautiously into the space, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger. The chamber was dimly lit by the the torch in his other hoof, casting eerie, flickering shadows that danced across the floor. In the center of the room, he saw what appeared to be a pile of clay pots, stacked haphazardly in a crude pyramid.

He approached the pots with curiosity, his analytical mind already whirring with questions. Why were these pots here? What purpose did they serve? And most importantly, what treasure might they hold? He leaned down, inspecting the pots more closely. They were old, their surfaces covered in a fine layer of dust, and their lids sealed tightly shut.

Mahogany reached out with his muzzle, intending to lift one of the lids and peer inside. But before he could make contact, the lids of the pots suddenly began to tremble, then lift, as if on their own accord. Startled, Mahogany took a step back, watching in amazement as the lids began to move, their edges splitting apart to form crude, mouth-like shapes. Then, to his utter astonishment, the pots began to speak.

“Oh, finally! Someone’s here!” one of the pots exclaimed, its voice high-pitched and slightly whiny.

“About time!” another pot chimed in, its tone grumpy. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

“Where’s the food? We’re starving!” a third pot demanded, its voice rising to a plaintive wail.

Mahogany blinked in surprise, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing and hearing. Talking pots? This was beyond anything he had ever encountered before. He stared at the pots, unsure of what to say.

“Um… who are you?” Mahogany finally managed to ask, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“Who are we? We’re the wizard’s pots, of course!” the first pot replied indignantly. “Not that he cares about us anymore. He’s abandoned us here!”

“Neglectful, that’s what he is!” another pot added, its voice dripping with bitterness.

“The wizard?” Mahogany’s ears perked up at the mention of the wizard. He had heard rumors of a powerful sorcerer who had once inhabited these dungeons, but he had always assumed they were just legends. “Who is this wizard? Where can I find him?”

The pots, however, seemed more interested in their own plight than answering his questions.

“Food! We need food!” one of the pots wailed. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a decent meal!”

“We’re so hungry!” another pot moaned.

Mahogany frowned, realizing that he wasn’t going to get any answers unless he did something to placate them. His heart sank as he opened his saddlebags, knowing full well that he had limited rations left. He had packed enough for a day, just in case his exploration took longer than expected, but he hadn’t anticipated having to share his supplies.

Still, he couldn’t just leave them like this. They were clearly in distress, and despite his own needs, he felt a pang of sympathy for the pots. Perhaps if he fed them, they would be more cooperative, more willing to share what they knew about the wizard.

With a resigned sigh, Mahogany pulled out the few rations he had—a small bundle of dried herbs, some roots, and a bit of bread. He divided the meager portions among the pots, dropping a bit of food into each one. As soon as the food touched their insides, the pots began to chatter excitedly, their lids clattering with joy as they devoured the offerings.

“Oh, thank you! Finally, some food!” one pot exclaimed between bites.

“So good! So tasty!” another pot added, its voice muffled by the mouthful of bread it was chewing.

Mahogany watched them eat, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something oddly endearing about the way they devoured the food with such enthusiasm. When the last of the rations were gone, the pots let out a collective sigh of contentment, their lids closing slightly as they settled down.

“Now,” Mahogany said gently, “can you tell me more about the wizard? Where can I find him?”

The pots wobbled slightly, their lids clattering as they spoke. But their answer was not what Mahogany had hoped for.

“Sorry, we don’t know,” one pot admitted, sounding genuinely regretful. “We haven’t seen him in ages.”

“It’s too dark in here,” another pot added. “We can’t tell you much about him. We just know he used to come around, but he doesn’t anymore.”

Mahogany felt a pang of disappointment, but he quickly pushed it aside. The wizard, it seemed, was still a mystery, one that he would have to uncover on his own. But as he looked

at the pots, now content and full, an idea began to form in his mind.

“Would it be alright if I took you with me?” Mahogany asked, his voice soft. “I could keep you fed, and maybe we can find out more about the wizard together. I’m a researcher, and I think we could learn a lot from each other.”

The pots were silent for a moment, as if considering his offer. Then, one by one, they began to bounce slightly, their lids clattering with excitement.

“Yes! Take us with you!” one pot exclaimed.

“We’d love to go on an adventure!” another pot added.

“Just make sure we get fed, okay?” a third pot chimed in.

Mahogany grinned, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over him. Carefully, he began to place the pots into his saddlebags, making sure they were secure and comfortable. Once they were all safely tucked away, he turned to leave the chamber, his heart lighter than it had been in days.

As he made his way back through the winding tunnels, Mahogany couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. The dungeon was still filled with dangers, but it was also a place of wonder, a place where the impossible became possible. And now, with the pots by his side, he wasn’t just exploring for himself—he was exploring for them too, and for the answers they all sought.

The journey ahead was still uncertain, and the mysteries of the wizard remained unsolved. But as Mahogany stepped out into the sunlight, the pots chattering happily in his saddlebags, he knew that he was on the right path. Together, they would uncover the secrets of the dungeon, and perhaps, just perhaps, find the treasure they were all looking for.