Dungeon Mauling

by Eric Ugland

  I was in the middle of a kneeling slice, knee-capping two tungeburs, and then the sword I was using wouldn’t move.

  The spurt of blood from my just-decapitated foe froze in the air. I could see each and every droplet.

  I stood up, chest heaving, my sweat and their blood mingled in a foul body paint. I had no idea what was going on, but I appreciated the break in the action so I could get a better tactical view of the landscape. But it was pointless. There were no tactics possible in this — it was just death. All I needed was kill.

  A shadow fell over me.

  I looked up to see a nightmare with wings descending towards me. It settled on the stone bricks next to me.

  The thudding in my chest was still going, but dissipated as the figure and I made eye contact. It was monstrous. Massive. Gross. Basically reaching the fucking sky. It had super thick skin, and horns seemed to sprout out across its entire back. The ones that came out near its skull were aimed forward, and had points all over them. Almost as if his horns had thorns on them. It had a red overtone to his skin, transitioning to a grey or silver toward the bottom of its form. All its protrusions were a matte black, except for its teeth. Did I mention its teeth? It had a ton of them. Teeth inside its mouth, teeth on the end of its tongue, teeth on the outside of its jaw, top and bottom, and a bonus set of mandibles with teeth on them. And of course none of these teeth were molars. They were all sharp and pointy and looked like they were ready to puncture or tear any flesh that got a little too close. It had beady little black eyes that shone in its giant head. I mean, the eyes weren’t that small unless you compare them to its great head. Its massive wings unfurled up into the sky blotting out the sun above me, dark leathery bat wings with spikes on them. It had two massive legs, and huge feet with massive fuck-off claws while its arms were giant bulges of muscle under thick leather, ending in claws that were bigger than me.

  Trying to bring up a weapon, I realized I had nothing but my hands. So I settled into a horse stance, figuring it was as good a defensive posture as I could muster. I was going to go out swinging.

  The figure seemed to size me up, then looked out at the destruction I’d caused. It swiped its massive hand across the ziggurat, and bodies dumped down the ziggurat like an overzealous toddler putting sprinkles on ice cream.

  The big creature harrumphed, and shook, almost like a dog. A really big scary dog with wings and lots of teeth and all sorts of nightmarish accessories. But as it shook, it shrank down some, until it was only slightly larger than me.

  Then it took a breath, and let it out in a long sigh.

  “You have broke the dungeon,” it finally said, its voice very low and very rough. Almost as if it was a mix between thunder and rocks falling.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, thoroughly confused and weirded out by this experience.

  A claw reached out and touched my chest, gently. The monster left the claw there for a moment, and I felt a pulse over me. Then it pulled its claw back, looked at it, and wiped it on the wall of the ziggurat.

  “Your skills are,” it paused, thinking of the word it wanted, “unique. I might almost accuse you of cheating.”

  “Cheating?” I asked, standing up straight and looking at the monster in his still very large eyes.

  “You are significantly more powerful than you should be, at your level, at your race, in this world.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve only played by the rules as I’ve seen them.”

  “Yes, I assumed as much, and that is why you are standing here, talking to me, and not banished.”

  “If I may, where might I be banished to?”

  “There are countless worlds less pleasant than Vuldranni. In varying degrees. I believe the surface of Meketrex is currently being scoured by a remarkably unpleasant beast. Perhaps you would like to go roast in its gullet for an eternity? Respawn only to be eaten again? Does that interest you?”

  “Tempting, but no.”

  “I thought not.”

  It paced along the edge of the ziggurat, crushing the remaining bodies of the tungebur that hadn’t yet been pushed off, forming a most repellent jelly.

  “Could I have your name, possibly?” I asked. “I have a feeling you know, but I’m Montana Coggeshall.”

  “I know your name. I am not quite so familiar with your benefactor, this Mister Paul. It is likely him I should be speaking to about your,” it paused again, “perks. They are most unusual.”

  “Yeah, you’d definitely have to talk to him about them. You know, if you wanted to know more about them.”

  The creature frowned at me, and I realized how stupid what I had just said sounded. I just looked down at my feet.

  “I might. But that does little to solve our dilemma, Montana.”

  “Which is?”

  “You are in a Dungeon, and—”

  “The Dungeon of the Ancients.”

  “That is correct. It is one of the few left of Vuldranni, and it is mine. One of my children. And you are doing your best to break it.”

  “You mentioned that. What exactly do you mean by breaking it?”

  “This level is about solving the problem before the swarm overtakes you. However, you seem able to fight forever. The swarm is unable to overtake you; you just stand here and slaughter everything the dungeon sends at you. The dungeon has populated this level with a certain amount of life, and that has kept constant in the millennia the dungeon has been here. But you destroyed that. You continued to kill, even as my dungeon repopulated this level. Thrice. And now, it runs out of energy. If it is completely drained, it will die.”

  “I mean, that just seems like a flaw in design there,” I said. “Why not stop making these tungeburs and just let me go to the next level?”

  “Because the dungeon is not as smart in that way as we are. The dungeon has little room for creative thought, largely because it has been on its own for so many years. It has been hidden in forced isolation for longer than it knows how to express to me. It was very excited when you entered, for it hungers for new blood. And yet, at every turn, you seem to know how to thwart it. And now, despite what other challenges it might have had for you, it has reached out to me in terror because it is about to die. And I cannot allow that.”

  “You’re the god of dungeons.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know Eona?”

  “The goddess who has blessed you? I know of her. I do not know her. She is rather beneath me, you understand.”

  “Can I get your name?”

  “I apologize, it has been long since I have trafficked with a mortal, and my manners are not quite as they should be. I am Typhon.”

  “Typhon, God of Monsters and Dungeons, I am honored to meet you,” I said with a slight bow.

  The god’s terrible eyebrow, covered in protruding spikes, raised a little.

  “Yes, it is an honor for you.”

  “Always love meeting you guys.”

  “Us guys?”

  “The, well, gods. You’re the third one I’ve met. I mean, provided Mister Paul is a god.”

  “He must be to have done what he has done.” Typhon stretched its wings out, almost like it was involuntary, then settled them back against its back one more time. “We still sit at a bit of a problem.”

  “Right. I’m breaking the dungeon.”

  “So how do you propose we deal with this issue?”

  “Are we negotiating?”

  “Though I am loathe to do so, I fear it is the only way. Because you have the marks of others upon you, I cannot just toss you to the void.”

  “So you are powerless against me?”

  “Hardly, mortal. It is challenging only because I would face certain repercussions. Others may portray me as being beyond rules, but that is only because they try to judge my children in their courts. I abide by the rules as set by the Eight.”

  “By children, do you mean monsters?”

  “Yes. They live by their own code. My code.”

  “You do y
ou, boo boo.”

  “I am unfamiliar with that phrase.”

  “Never mind. I’m just saying I don’t judge your people. Same as I want to say that, you know, don’t hate me because I’ve killed some of them.”

  “My children know they are not immortal. They embrace death as they are. You killing them in battle is as it should be. Just as I will shed no tears when one of my children kills you.”

  “I can dig that.”

  I think it smiled. It was rather difficult to tell — the god just didn’t possess the right physiology to smile. Or show happiness. But Typhon seemed happier.

  “Now the brokering, Montana Coggeshall. What shall it take for you to leave my child alive?”

  I hated bargaining with gods. Mainly because I had no idea what to ask for. I felt like I’d never know enough about the game to be on level negotiating ground with them.

  “Obviously the party and I have to get to the end of the dungeon.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I want the treasure the dungeon was originally entrusted to guard.”

  Typhon didn’t answer, but made a hand motion with its massive clawed hands which I took to indicate I was to continue.

  “The complete dungeon indicium. And, uh, a boon.”

  It stared at me, and then I think it laughed.

  “A boon—”

  “And a blessing,” I interrupted him to add.

  “You put me in a bind with this ask.”

  “I mean, I feel like I’ve got the upper hand. I will ask for as much as I can.”

  It nodded, and looked out at the frozen world in front of him. “A boon, a blessing, the complete dungeon indicium, and the treasure of the dungeon.”

  “And safe passage through the rest of the dungeon,” I added.

  He waved his hand. “That is assumed. If you continue on, you will just kill the dungeon and gain the indicium. Your desire for the treasure is a non-issue as well. It is the request for a boon and a blessing. That requires I side myself with those who have also given you boons and blessings. And that complicates everything.”

  “Can I ask you about all that?”

  “No. That is not knowledge meant for mortals.”

  “Okay then, but maybe I want to know about that. You know, since it seems like I can just kill the dungeon and get everything I basically want anyway, so—”

  “Montana of Coggeshall, you forget something, as those new to power often do. You, alone, are a being of impressive power. You may be able to to face this Dungeon and emerge victorious. You may even be able to stand forth against what it is I would prefer to do unto you. But those of your party, those you are with, they are weak. They do not possess you gifts or your protections. This will always be the case. Your greatest weakness will always be having to protect those you choose to care about.”

  “Let’s just leave the question I want answered alone then.”

  “At which point, I agree to your terms. I will give you my blessing, I will grant you a boon, I will accede to allowing you to gain the indicium as if you had completed the Dungeon in the traditional manner, and you will be taken to the treasure room and thus the exit of the Dungeon. Once you depart this Dungeon, you will never enter into any Dungeons. This one or any others you may stumble across.”

  “No Dungeons?”

  “None. You are too dangerous and they are too few.”

  “Okay. Deal”

  Typhon nodded at me, then reached out and put its hand on my shoulder. It felt heavy. Then it squeezed. Hard. I thought about screaming it hurt so bad, but I figured the god of monsters would probably consider that a sign of weakness. And monsters tended to view weakness as worthy of death. So instead, I breathed in deeply and tried to find the joy in the exquisite pain.

  Blissfully, the pain stopped, and completely disappeared.

  Be aware: You have received the Typhon’s Mark of the Beast. You gain a 10% advantage in Intimidation, tremorsense, labyrinthine recall, and +5 Strength. Some might look upon this blessing with joy, others with anger. A side has been chosen, a side has been joined.

  I looked over, and saw a black claw print over my shoulder. It slowly faded, but the pain remained for a moment.

  Typhon looked down at me, as if appraising me.

  “A boon,” it said, thinking.

  “I mean, maybe, like, can I summon monsters?”

  “You cannot handle such power.”

  “Wait—”

  “You have inadequate magic.”

  “I can get more.”

  “No. You cannot. You have chosen a path without magic, and you have stunted its growth through your choices.”

  “Can you give me magic?”

  It shook its head. “That is beyond my abilities.”

  “I’d need to talk to the God of magic?”

  “Perhaps. Even one such as I hesitates before thinking of speaking to one of the Eight.”

  “Oh. Are you—”

  “I am of the Sixty-Four,” it said. “I grow weary of being here and holding this world in stasis. Your boon, perhaps there is a little something I can do for you.”

  It felt like something hit me, and I flew into the wall of the ziggurat behind me, smashing against the green stone and knocking all the air out of my lungs. Typhon hadn’t moved.

  I struggled to breathe, and I was gasping like a fish.

  Congratulations, the great god Typhon has gifted a boon upon you:

  Monstrous Companion

  You have been gifted a companion from the god Typhon. Your companion is immortal, though if reduced to 0 HP, he will be forced to return in a different form, chosen at the whim of Typhon. You may absorb your companion for a temporary boost to your abilities, but the boost will only last until Typhon sends another companion your way.

  He picked me up, resuming his initial size in the blink of an eye, and then he held me to his eye.

  “Remember our agreement, Montana Coggeshall,” he boomed at me. “And know that our paths are joined together now. Forever.”

  Then he was gone, and I was falling.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  There was a brilliant flash, and the jungle level disappeared. I slammed into the ground.

  BOOM. By conquering The Dungeon of the Ancients, you have unlocked all eight rings of the Dungeon of the Ancients Indicium. You gain the following skills and/or abilities: Art of Movement, Labyrinthine Recall, Detect Mimic 20 ft, Indomitable, Detect Traps +75%, Swift Tracker, Veritasium, and Detect Metals and Minerals.

  A cool breeze blew over us from the west. Even with my eyes closed, I knew the direction. All of sudden, I knew pretty much exactly where I was. And I could tell where everyone else was. I could sense exactly where they were based on something. The vibrations in their bodies, maybe? And as I pushed that sensation further, I could tell there were other creatures within a sphere around me. Maybe a hundred or two hundred feet out, it stopped. Not suddenly, it just seemed to peter out, and I could no longer sense what was going on there.

  I got up very slowly, hurting. My body felt surprisingly tired. I still wasn’t exactly sure how I could feel tired with no stamina, but I did. I figured it had something to do with fatigue and my need to sleep every other night. But however the mechanics worked out, everything hurt a bit, like I’d overused each and every muscle in my body.

  The party was splayed out, asleep. Or out. All five were there, and snoring. Well, at least three out of five were. We’d been placed in a room with walls and ceiling carved out of a mountain. Someone had laid brick across the floor, nice and flat. We were all near a door, leading to — you guessed it — a hallway. The rest of the room was lit by a glowing gem hanging from a small chain. Down below the glowing gem sat the treasure of the ancients. And it was mine.

  I snatched the bag from Ragnar. He stirred a little, but he didn’t wake up. Which was great for me, because I wanted to see the treasure before anyone else did. There was a lot of it. Heavy chests (real ones this time) full of gold and gems
. Swords, hammers, bows, axes, spears, hell a whole armory of weapons. Suits of armor, stacks of chain mail, shields for days. There were seven square metal boxes, each with a different set of jewelry inside. Thick necklaces of gold or platinum encrusted with huge jewels of all kinds, heavy crowns decked out in all sorts of amazing sparkly things. There was such a wide variety of valuable things, and so many of them, that I just shoved everything into the unfillable knapsack with a stupid big smile on my face.

  Jewels. Coins. Chests. Shelving. Tapestries. Anything and everything not nailed down went into the bag. By the time I’d emptied out the vault, I’d even chucked in there few clumps of dust in the corner, in case small gems were hiding, the others were awake, and watching me.

  “You have a problem,” Ragnar said.

  “Do not,” I retorted, reaching up and ripping the glowing gem and chain out of the ceiling.

  “Where are we?” Nikolai asked.

  “That’s a difficult question to answer. Well, to be fair, the where isn’t that hard, the why is harder. We’re out of the dungeon.”

  “Out?” Emeline asked. “Like, we made it through?”

  “Um,” I started, then stalled, not sure how to describe the events that transpired, “it’s a little more like we, uh, took a shortcut and cut out the last four levels.”

  “How?” Nikolai asked.

  “Well, have you heard of someone, or something, named Typhon.”

  Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you did not make some deal with Typhon.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What, exactly, then?”

  “I mean, in a sense, I maybe made a deal with him.”

  “So what part of it is not exactly a deal?”

  “It was more like he made a deal with me.”

  “Please, enlighten me upon that incredibly minor distinction.”

  “Can we discuss this later?” I asked. “I’d kinda like to get back to the city.”

  “That would be nice,” Donner said. “I am in agreement with Montana.”