The Trash Tier Dungeon

by Kaye Fairburn

  The Trash Tier Dungeon

  Book 1 of the Trash Tier Dungeon series

  By Kaye Fairburn

  Copyright © 2018 Kaye Fairburn

  www.kayefairburn.com

  Cover art by Alice Bessoni

  www.alicebessoni.com

  Substantive Editing by Daniel Stetson

  First edition.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book contains moderately offensive language and scenes of graphic cartoon-like violence. It is not intended for children under thirteen, but they could read this and become the coolest kids in class if they wanted to. Some reader discretion is advised. You have been warned.

  Visit www.kayefairburn.com and follow Kaye Fairburn on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kayefairburn for more news about upcoming releases.

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  Blurb

  For these two, getting along means life or death.

  Minette, the lowest ranked sentient dungeon in Bellstrang, deserves her Trash Tier title. She’s more interested in playing with her cats and having fun than being a proper dungeon.

  Scorned by recent experiences, Arden the Dungeon Pixie doesn’t have time for fun. The only thing she likes on her schedule is beheading her enemies.

  Following a treacherous act against her last dungeon, the Overseer of Dungeons reassigns Arden to work with Minette. If she fails to lift Minette to the Overseer’s standards within a month’s time, he’ll smite her.

  Complicating things further is a revenge-seeking rogue who wants Arden dead.

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to Knorrig and Miguel. Thank you for all that you do.

  Acknowledgements

  A special thank you goes to Angela King, Clyde Starr, David Doenges, and Elias Dantas for beta reading this story. Their feedback was invaluable in shaping this story into what it is. A big rousing applause also goes to Daniel Stetson, my substantive editor who elevated this story to new heights.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Chapter 1

  Into the dungeon’s depths she went, not as a victim but as a conqueror. Beside her walked the man she marked for death. Failing that, she’d settle for some harm.

  Dungeons came in many forms, from the hell-fiery to the fluffy yet deadly. The cute ones were never to be trusted.

  Arden learned that the hard way when she misjudged a panda dungeon. A number of support spells and genetic fiddling transformed the lazy creatures into all-out beasts. She would’ve died if it hadn’t been for her hasty retreat. After what she survived, she couldn’t look at bamboo without recoiling.

  Etaner’s Fuzzy Dungeon, as it was lovingly called, had a special place in her heart ever since.

  No matter the dungeon’s appearance or its minions, they were all thrilling. Each one contained an abundance of discoverable charms. More than the loot intrigued her. The true draw of every dungeon was in its exploration, its artistry. Its passageways offered unbridled beauty.

  “Watch your step there, little Miss,” the rogue accompanying her said.

  Robin was a smarmy guy, even by roguish standards. A dual dagger wielder, he was narrowly limbed with a mouth that never closed. Congestion issues may have been to blame, and they probably contributed to his nasal tone, as well.

  Layers of animal grease kept his long hair slicked back. It didn’t move, to the point where it could’ve been a helmet. His clothes were standard fare: a simple leather vest over woolen pants. Arden suspected his overall armor rating was a 1, which would smartly place his outfit in the light category.

  A sprout-thin mustache lining his upper lip completed his look.

  “You’re sure that the Matriarch’s Horn is somewhere in here?” Robin held his unlit torch in front of him. An ethereal light radiating from the cavernous ceiling killed any reasons to light it.

  Arden nodded earnestly, her wavy hair bouncing against her face. “Yes, it’s definitely here.”

  “According to your sources?”

  “My sources are the best sources there are,” she said. Arden crossed her heart. “This is a rare, time-limited drop, you know. You should feel lucky to have this opportunity.”

  She had found Robin wandering the forest near the dungeon’s entrance. Since the dungeon’s portal was a modest little thing at the base of a violet-tinted rock (almost like the dungeon preferred to hide), Arden had to do the legwork in getting it a visitor.

  No wonder none of the adventurers at Kazzipur’s Tavern talked about it. Normally, dungeons were the convo du jour at the towns closest to them. People liked trading strategies on how to beat them. They enjoyed figuring out the kinds of monsters they held and what kind of loot they offered. Adventurers would come back from their dungeon crawls, overflowing with stories of their triumphs and failures alike.

  That, sadly, wasn’t the case when it came to this dungeon. Half the people who she mentioned the dungeon to didn’t know what she was talking about, a quarter of them scoffed at the mere idea of it, and another quarter mocked it for how pathetic it was.

  Robin wasn’t from Kazzipur, which made it easier for Arden to lure him inside with her simpering young maiden routine and a possible Matriarch’s Horn.

  “Lucky? I’m just happy to put a smile back on your face,” Robin said, revealing his poorly kept teeth. “I’m sorry to hear about your party. They’re a bunch of rat bastards for abandoning you in the woods like that.”

  “No one believed me. They were so mean! I know there’s a Matriarch’s Horn here.” Arden pretended to cry behind her hands. Her small size helped to further serve the pathetic “please help me with your big strong muscles, sir” image she was dishing out. Inwardly, she wanted to both gag and laugh at how he gobbled up her lies.

  “It’s okay. We’ll find the Matriarch’s Horn together and split the proceeds when we sell it. Hey, if you want, you could join my guild. It’s perfect timing since we’re in the middle of a restructuring. Forget about that stupid party you were in. We’d love to have you,” he said. “We’re going to lose our current healer once his apprenticeship is over, anyway.”

  “Thank you! I’ll think about it,” she giggled.

  Hell no. Even if I could, I wouldn’t!

  Robin led the way through the hall. Thus far, there hadn’t been any forks in their path. Th
ey completed turn after turn like they were in a windy maze that had a single direction to follow. The dungeon’s layout intrigued her as much as it confused her. Perhaps the dungeon wanted to lull its visitors into a false sense of security before springing a nefarious trap.

  But so far (and so far had to have been an hour, at least), there hadn’t been any traps. Nothing existed in the passageways to break up the monotony, either. The dungeon’s interior design hungered for inspiration. It was as if the dungeon didn’t want to bother becoming something unique.

  How many times had she seen the good ol’ stone wall and dirt floor shtick? It was a classic, sure, but it was a foundation for dungeons to leap off from. It wasn’t enough to build an endless series of tunnels that looked the same.

  Some combat would’ve gotten her blood pumping. Often times, when dungeons lacked in their design skills, they made up for it with their units. Arden hadn’t seen any traces of monsters, not even a wayward footprint to liven things up.

  There were no hints anywhere as to what kind of dungeon this was, beyond it being blasé to the extreme.

  “Hold on, Miss, I’m detecting a trap up ahead. Aren’t you glad you’re down here with a rogue like me?” Robin asked.

  “Yay!” she cheered.

  To her disappointment, the trap was so obvious that the most brutish of barbarians would’ve seen it. A rope stretched from one side of the wall to the other, set up at ankle height. Her senses told her that the trap was exactly as it seemed: dull and thoughtlessly placed. It wasn’t a cover for anything else.

  “I can help you step over it. Give me your hand.”

  Arden shuddered at how clammy he was. “Okay.”

  “Here we go. You have nothing to fear when you’re with me.”

  “That’s so wonderful of you to say. Why, nobody treats me that–whoops!” She kicked the rope as they passed over it.

  Robin tensed.

  Arden’s heart pounded in anticipation.

  They waited.

  …And nothing happened. No spiders raining unspeakable horrors from above; no tentacles bursting from the earth. Lances didn’t launch from the walls. No one screamed in the distance. A pit didn’t appear to swallow them up. They were together, still alone and intact in the hallway.

  “Whew, that was close,” Robin said, his hair crunching as he patted it. “That could’ve been bad. You have to promise me you’ll be more careful from now on, alright?”

  “I promise!”

  As they traveled through the dungeon, Arden took every available opportunity to break that promise that she could. None of the traps she activated yielded any results. They were either hastily put together or completely unpowered. It was possible that the traps had worked once upon a time, but the dungeon never bothered to fix them. Why keep them around, then?

  This dungeon’s either hopeless or the laziest I’ve ever seen.

  Every dungeon was a living entity, capable of becoming beautiful and treacherous in however way it desired. Their souls resided in their Heart, hidden somewhere in its labyrinth. Should adventurers find and destroy the Dungeon Heart, the dungeon would cease to exist. That was why every dungeon had monsters or beasts to defeat and repel enemy adventurers.

  Traps were another tool at their disposal. It was a wonder to Arden that this dungeon invested so little in its upkeep. Where were its peons? Its workers should have been scurrying around to fix its problems. And, for that matter, where were the monsters? She and Robin should’ve run into a basic unit by now. Any dungeon worth its salt invested at least that much into its care.

  Those were the bare minimum standards.

  Arden shivered at the gall of it all. No self-respecting pixie would’ve allowed his or her dungeon to fall into such disarray. Pixies were dungeons’ partners, there to assist with whatever they needed. They often acted as guides. It looked like whoever had been this dungeon’s partner saw nothing but failure in their future, so they gave up.

  “Hey, I think I’ve heard about this place before,” Robin said.

  Her cutesy “woe is me” act after every time she attempted to trip a trap kept him from being angry with her. For a rogue, he was particularly easy to fool. Her low-cut attire may have played a part in that.

  Arden tilted her head. “You have? That’s not what you told me earlier.”

  “I’ve only heard rumors of it. To be honest, I thought it was a myth.” Robin frowned. “There’s not going to be any loot in here, babe. Your sources tricked you.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Arden held her face, framing her mock shock.

  “This is the Trash Tier Dungeon! It’s infamous for its failure. Excuse my language, but this is the most garbage dungeon there is. It’s never gotten a good score in the Dungeon Reviews Digest,” he said. “Look, we’ve been wandering here for so long and there’s been nothing to see. You’ve accidentally fallen into so many traps and you’re perfectly fine. This is bad. I’d reckon it’s not even worth it to destroy its Heart.”

  “Trash Tier Dungeon? But, it’s so scary in here.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, unless death by boredom is a thing.”

  “I don’t want to be bored to death.” Arden pouted. “There might not be a Matriarch’s Horn here, after all. I’m sorry for putting you through this. There must be a way I can repay you for your time.” She clasped her hands together.

  Robin grinned, busted up teeth and all. “I can think of an idea.”

  “Me, too! Can I see your daggers? Pretending I’m a rogue really gets me in the mood.”

  “Oh, so you’re that kind of girl, huh? I wasn’t even thinking that, but, yeah, sure. Who am I to deny a woman in need?” Robin furrowed his ‘brows. He unsheathed his weapons from the scabbards that hung off of his hips. A pair of rubies adorned their hilts, one gem on each. “You wanna know what gets me in the–”

  “It’s better if you don’t talk,” she said, taking his daggers.

  With a level of speed unlike any human healer, Arden slammed the blades into Robin’s stomach. The squelch was like music to her starved ears. His scream unleashed a torrent of warm, fuzzy feelings in her chest. There was no better glee than bringing an adventurer to his knees.

  That got her into a slaying mood.

  Robin’s eyes burst open wide, his face contorted in surprise. He pulled his fist back to hit her.

  Arden stepped back, yanking the weapons free of his flesh as she went.

  Robin lurched towards her, one arm clutching his wound and the other outstretched. “You bitch!”

  “Take this!” she yelled. Arden flung a Kazzipur teleportation scroll at him and then disappeared in a flash. She wasn’t built for direct melee combat. A sneaky hit or two, sure, but close quarter fighting wasn’t where her true strengths lay. He’d ground her 300 health points to dust if they fought one-on-one in a fair match.

  Assuming Robin was at least semi-intelligent, he’d use the scroll to return to Kazzipur, where he could safely take care of the holes in his body.

  Consider that my part of our trade.

  When Arden reappeared, she was face to face with a glowing orb suspended in midair. Swirls of energy fanned off of it, the waves burning hot. The heat would’ve overwhelmed someone with less experience, but this was far from her first time staring into the face of a Dungeon Heart.

  My challenge to conquer.

  The decorations in the Heart’s room surprised Arden. Crude paintings and drawings lined the wall, each one depicting a whiskered beast. They were pulling funny expressions that were entirely unbecoming of their otherwise wicked feline faces.

  Arden dropped Robin’s daggers, then rolled her shoulders before reverting back to her original pixie form. She shrunk considerably, now the size of the average female human’s hand. Her wings fluttered, allowing her to zip around the Dungeon Heart.

  “I guess I should introduce myself,” she said. “Hi, my name is Arden the Endless Terror. Sorry you were stuck watching all of that. I wanted to ge
t a taste for your, uh, tastes from an adventurer’s perspective. I’ll be honest and say you’re a complete and utter disappointment, but I can fix that.”

  If the Dungeon Heart was offended in any way, it showed no signs of it. Arden’s last Dungeon Heart liked to make fecal matter fall from the ceiling whenever he received criticism. His poo storms were the dungeonous equivalent of a rage dump. To be the toilet to a dump like that was something she never wanted to relive.

  Suddenly, the Dungeon Heart took on an alarmingly pink hue.

  “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be so fun,” the Dungeon Heart gushed. Its colors matched its girly inflection. It, or rather she, squealed when Arden flew closer.

  “Fun, yeah,” Arden mumbled, painfully aware that their definitions of fun probably grossly differed. So far, this dungeon was the antithesis of fun.

  As the Trash Tier Dungeon’s newest pixie, Arden had a lot of work ahead of her.

  She only hoped that she’d still be alive at the end of it all.

  Chapter 2

  Kazzipur sat in the ass end of Bellstrang, nearest to where the swampy crack might be on a personified version of the country. It was a town suffering from a lack of strong identity. The closest thing to an identity it had was “a pit stop for wayfaring adventurers; full of locals who hate their lives–avoid this place if you can.”

  Centuries ago, it had been an important commerce center. It attracted merchants from all over Bellstrang. There, they would trade and hawk exotic wares, +4 stat increasing weaponry, spell scrolls, and all kinds of things adventurers needed. The industry boomed.

  If it hadn’t been for Cagerda, a less prosperous town in the east, those brilliant times may have continued forevermore. Envying Kazzipur’s wealth, Cagerda attacked. They didn’t tear the town down with swords, shields, spells, spears, or anything else conveniently starting with an S.

  They set off an itchy plague bomb, its fumes clouding Kazzipur for months. Ardent townsfolk remained. They developed anti-itch herbal creams, but the damage was done.