Dungeon Crawler Carl Book 2

by DoctorHepa

  “We had to torture her to tease your name from her lips,” Salvatore was saying.

  The third city elf returned, followed by a half dozen more of his friends. These guys weren’t wearing the brown robes, but the uniforms of the 201st. They formed a semi-circle around the entrance, blocking it. All of them were level 16, but there was a menagerie of magic types, from a Fire Mage to a Summoner to a Light Healer. Their dots remained white on the map. For now.

  “Wait, you had to torture who?” I asked. I’d missed what he said because I was talking to Mordecai.

  “GumGum,” the city elf said. “She was serving an important purpose, removing the unworthy filth from the streets. But then she started asking questions. Questions, it turns out, that attracted the Oak Fell. Just as the Master predicted.”

  “You tortured GumGum?” Donut said, her voice incredulous. Next to her, Mongo growled. Actually, I realized it was more of a retching noise. The dinosaur was looking a little green. That salamander wasn’t sitting well in his gut. Still, the noise he’d made sounded downright menacing. The city elves all tensed. Easy, easy. Not yet.

  “Yes,” Salvatore said. “Just as we shall torture you. You defeated Vicente, our champion. He trained his entire life for the final battle. Now he blossoms on Her tree. The master had warned us a single champion would not be enough. We are chastened that we did not follow his guidance. We shall not make that mistake again. Now you will face all of us.”

  “You nine are all of you?” I asked.

  “We were twelve, but now we are nine,” Salvatore said. “Just as it was in the scriptures during the great Fall.”

  “Vicente? Is that the guy whose head I blew off? And you kicked in the nuts?” Donut asked. She turned to face me. All nine of the city elves hissed in unison and took a step back.

  Donut looked back over her shoulder. “What? Are you scared of my butt or something? I’ll have you know it is glorious.” She waggled it at the elves, jingling the crupper that hung like a skirt across her backside. “This is an award-winning derriere!”

  One of the elves, a type of mage called an “Icer” growled. His dot on the map flickered to red then back to white. They were all looking down at Donut with scowls and dismay.

  Donut: CARL THEY ARE GOING TO ATTACK US.

  Carl: Don’t move. Stay in that position. Shake your left rear leg.

  Donut lifted her back leg, revealing the small, magical anklet with the three little beads. She shook her foot, and the beads made a rattling noise. The elves growled and hissed like a pack of wild animals. One of them, the female Light Healer, started scratching at her own face, causing rivulets of blood to form.

  What the actual fuck was wrong with these assholes?

  They were scared of Donut’s anklet. We’d found it on a dead crawler who’d been killed by the lemurs. I remembered it only gave a couple of minor stat boosts and a skill called Double Tap. There wasn’t anything too remarkable about it except its name, The Enchanted Anklet of the Fallen Oak.

  The description was all about how I shouldn’t wear it, which was why I’d given it to Donut. Apparently, these guys weren’t fans of magical items made from oakwood. I guessed that made sense since this Apito lady was called the Oak Mother. I’d be pretty upset too if someone was walking around with jewelry made out of dead babies.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said, looking at Salvatore, who wouldn’t stop spitting on the ground like a damn maniac. The whole group had devolved from a bunch of angry, but competent-appearing magic users to this unstable mess of nutjobs who all looked as if they’d just escaped a mental hospital. The transformation had occurred in seconds. The fire mage had pissed himself. The summoner was sucking his thumb. “You assholes think Donut here is this Oak Fell antichrist person because she’s wearing that anklet?”

  “I told you wood jewelry is ugly,” Donut grumbled.

  “You are the bearer of the forbidden oak,” Salvatore said, speaking directly to Donut. He stood stiffly, formally. He pulled the acorn off the tree branch still in his hand and ate it, crunching loudly. His entire form started to glow blue. Magical Fervor appeared over his head. The others all produced acorns and ate them. Soon, the entire group glowed.

  Carl: Magical Fervor.

  Mordecai: Triples their mana points and increases their strength. It also makes them glow and talk really loud. They’ll be immune to your Fear.

  Ahh shit, I thought. The plan had been to goad these guys into attacking us in front of the town guards. As long as they made the first move, Mordecai assured us the guards would fight on our side. But now I was worried the two swordsmen at the end of the street wouldn’t be enough for this.

  Protective Shell wouldn’t protect us from magical attacks. I had my Wisp Armor, but that wouldn’t help Donut. My mind raced. We had two different plays in our book that might work. We had “Mold Lion,” which was named after the first fight we’d used the plan in. The second, newest one, was called “Mic Drop.” That one would probably work better, but it would likely end with the guards hunting us, which was something I wanted to avoid if possible.

  Donut: Mold Lion again?

  Carl: I think so. Get ready.

  I prepared to jump forward into their midst. I’d cast Protective Shell anyway, which would physically launch them in every which direction. Like with the mold lions, it would hopefully kill a couple. If so, Donut would have a few precious moments to raise them from the dead, which would give us a few meat shields and even out the odds.

  Salvatore continued his rant, but under the influence of the Magical Fervor buff, his voice carried as if over a loudspeaker. I kept my eyes glued to the dots on the minimap, waiting for them to turn red. If I moved a second too soon, we’d be doubly fucked. The shell wouldn’t push the elves, and the swordsmen guards would move in on us instead. “The angel, our master, prepares us for the end of days,” Salvatore squealed. “He has almost achieved all his tasks. We are prepared to blossom on Her. We, the 201st Security Group are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to protect the angel, who in turn works toward Apito’s vision of the Plantation. Apito warns us of the great beast who yearns to unravel the heavens and kill all the gods. And now, this great deceiver, this devourer of all that is holy has a name. She is Donut, the Oak Fell. The Death Upon Us All. She Who Ends. And with the help of my brothers and sisters, I will…”

  Thwap!

  Salvatore crumpled to the ground, screaming as he clutched at his head. The enormously-pregnant, female dwarf hit him again with the rolling pin, yelling. Behind her, the group of young dwarves who’d been playing in the street all returned. The rock-thrower from before had a massive bandage around his head. The one who’d been holding the salamander on the stick picked up the broken branch and stared at it.

  “Where’s Benjamin?” he called.

  The dwarf woman, who was apparently the mother of the entire crew, continued to pummel Salvatore with the rolling pin. “Throw a rock at my boy, will ya! I’ll teach ya a lesson ye’ll never forget ye crazy lump of reconstituted snail shit. You arseholes waving yer silly branches all about all day long. We is sick of it, we is!”

  Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!

  Down the street, the two swordsmen guards turned toward the scuffle.

  The pregnant dwarf stopped bashing in the head of the elf, who wasn’t quite dead, but he wasn’t getting up anytime soon, either. I read the name over her head. Eunice. Level 30. Fathom Dwarf. She straightened, glaring at the other elves. Silence followed, punctuated only by the sound of her heavy breathing and the blood dripping from the rolling pin. The harsh odor of urine filled the street.

  I stared in surprised astonishment at the tableau. The woman had come out of nowhere. The other elves looked at each other, none of them moving, equally frozen with surprise by the unexpected violence. The summoner elf continued to suck his thumb. The healer continued to scratch at her own face. The scene only held this way for but a moment, though it seemed to go on forever.

&
nbsp; The stalemate ended when Mongo yakked the salamander back out onto the street.

  The small, now-dead lizard was still tied to the end of a broken stick. It landed in a slimy puddle with a plop.

  “Benjamin?” the young dwarf asked, stepping forward. His name was Ricky Joe. Level 2. Juvenile Fathom Dwarf. He looked at the unmoving salamander. “Benjamin?”

  It all went downhill from there.

  The Icer elf, the first to break from his shock, shot a boomerang-shaped pulse at Eunice the dwarf. It hit the pregnant woman square in the chest, and she rocketed back, frozen solid. Her health moved to the red. A second, smaller health bar appeared over her stomach. This one was also in the red, though not as deep. Frosted appeared with a sixty-second countdown. The young dwarves all cried out, running to their mother. All except young Ricky Joe, who kneeled before Benjamin the dead salamander. His lower lip quivered as he picked up the broken stick. Slime dripped off.

  At this moment, not a single dot on the map was yet red. But the swordsmen guards clomped noisily onto the scene, unsheathing their massive weapons. They moved toward the frozen, pregnant dwarf. The remaining children scattered, rushing across the street, all except the one with the bandage on his head, who draped himself over his mother’s form.

  “Leave me mum alone!”

  The guards did not care. They both lifted their swords over their heads.

  I am very aware that what I did next would be considered a Very Stupid Thing.

  I am also aware that nobody left on the street at this moment was innocent. Nobody except maybe Benjamin, who was already dead, and the baby dwarf in Eunice’s belly. The elves were assholes. The rock-throwing dwarf kid was a prick who’d gotten what he deserved. Eunice obviously had some anger—and birth control—issues she needed to work out. And Ricky Joe the salamander torturer was obviously well on the path toward the life of a serial killer.

  All of this ran through my head as I attacked the guards.

  I formed a fist, stepped forward, and I punched the closest of the two level-75 village swordsmen as hard as I could.

  My fist smashed into the side of the armored creature. It was as if I’d punched the side of a Sherman tank. I left an impression in the metal, but the guard did not stagger. A health bar did not appear. He and his companion paused their attack and turned toward me. Both of their dots turned red on the map.

  Uh-oh.

  Warning: You have been branded as a troublemaker at this settlement. Guards will now attack you on sight.

  The same moment as I punched the guard, young Ricky Joe decided to also enter the idiot-of-the-day contest.

  The boy, still clutching the half-stick of wood with the dead salamander tied onto it punched Mongo the velociraptor in the face.

  “You killed my best friend! You…”

  The boy moved to punch a second time, but when he pulled his arm back, he found that it was no longer there. Mongo, quick as a snake, had bitten off the dwarf’s arm below the elbow, swallowing it along with Benjamin for the second time.

  “Mongo, hold!” Donut yelled, saving the idiot boy’s life. For now. The dinosaur, once again, looked ill.

  I leaped back into the midst of the still-gawking magic users as the swordsman’s wide blade smashed into the ground. The blade missed me, instead drilling into Salvatore, who’d just been healed back to consciousness by the face-scratching light healer. He’d been sitting on the ground, shaking his head. He was cleaved in half, cut right down the center like a damn bagel.

  Behind the guards, the children swarmed their still-frozen mother and began pulling her back across the street. And standing between the guards was little Ricky Joe, looking at the stump of his arm which was now shooting blood into the air like one of those summertime sprinklers for kids. I reached forward and picked the heavy dwarf child up, shoving him under my left arm like a football as I pulled a boom jug into my right arm.

  “Mic drop!” I yelled.

  “Are we taking the kid?” Donut cried, wasting a precious second. I jumped out of the way of another sword cleave. These things were strong, practically indestructible, but they were also slow as hell.

  “Yes, go!” I lit the torch on the boom jug.

  “Set!” Donut shouted.

  I lightly tossed the jug straight up into the air. I watched it rise as I mentally counted down the two seconds. The jug reached its apex and started its descent right toward my head.

  All four of us—Me, Donut, Mongo, and Ricky Joe—blinked away, reappearing on the roof of a building across the street thanks to Donut’s Puddle Jumper spell.

  I whirled, facing the scene just in time to see the boom jug hit the ground and fully engulf everyone and everything standing there by the entrance to the temple. The remaining eight city elves were instantly crisped. The two city guards, both of them in the process of swinging their swords at me, recovered and looked at each other. A health bar appeared over both of them, though it barely moved, and they seemed oblivious to the raging fire. They stepped away from the conflagration. They faced the fire and stopped moving. They hadn’t seen where we’d gone.

  Thankfully Eunice and the other children were far enough away to not be caught in the blast. The door to the building next to the one we were standing upon opened, and a pair of human NPCs rushed out and pulled them inside as other NPCs rushed into the street to see what was happening.

  The fire moved to the entrance of the corrupt temple, and soon the entire building, along with the home next door, was engulfed.

  I pulled a health potion and shoved it in the mouth of the still-squealing Ricky Joe. The blood stopped flowing, and his health bar returned to the green. His arm did not grow back. The boy turned to the ill-looking Mongo and moved to hit the dinosaur again, this time with his left arm, but I held him back.

  “Calm down you crazy little shit!”

  “Give it back! Give me my arm back!”

  Mongo obliged.

  A note from DoctorHepa

  Happy Monday ya'll!

  We are rapidly approaching the endgame for part 3. It looks as if Chapter 72 will be the end of this section. It gets a little crazy. I can't wait.

  Chapter 68

  A note from DoctorHepa

  Cliffhanger Warning.

  Okay, so this current arc and floor ends on chapter 72 (which I just put up over on Patreon). A lot happens between now and then. However, every one of these remaining chapters ends on an increasingly-large cliffhanger. This chapter's cliffhanger isn't so bad, but I know some of you guys don't like that sort of thing. If so, I would suggest waiting to read until chapter 72 is up. Chapter 72 will release on 7/2.

  We waited until sunset before leaving our hiding spot atop the building. After the brief, chaotic fight on the street down below, the two guards remained in their position facing the fire. They did not move. They did not look up. Multiple NPCs, including Skyfowl came to inspect the burning building. Nobody paid us any heed.

  Nobody, except Mordecai, who spent a solid 10 minutes straight swearing at us over chat because we’d activated the guards’ aggro.

  Ricky Joe sat cross-legged on the roof, sullenly clutching onto the remains of his severed limb and the twice-eaten corpse of his pet salamander, Benjamin. He’d screamed bloody murder when he learned we wouldn’t be able to reattach the arm, but Donut had talked him into sitting down and calmly waiting for night to descend. Once the building was fully engulfed, it appeared whatever spells protected the immediate area also fled, once again allowing Donut’s charm to be effective.

  “Hey kid,” I asked as we waited. “You know that wasn’t very cool, right? Tying the little lizard to the end of the stick? It’s pretty fucked up.”

  “You shouldn’t say bad words to kids,” Donut said. “But yes, Ricky Joe. You shouldn’t do that.”

  “At least I didn’t eat him,” Ricky Joe said. “And Benjamin liked it. Fathom dwarves strap them to their hats when they go into mines. He was in training.”

  A few moments
later, the two guards abruptly turned and walked away. I watched them clank their way through the town’s streets. They converged with other groups of the swordsmen, and they all entered a building on the same street as the magistrate’s headquarters.

  “Hey,” I asked the kid, indicating the burnt-out husk of the temple. The child’s own home, which was attached to the building, had also burned to the ground. “Did you ever see anything unusual coming in and out of there? Or hear anything weird?”

  “Weird?” he asked. “They were always weird. One of them would cry for his mama every morning. We could hear it through the walls, we did. There were a lot of weird smells, too. My brother, Bubba Lane, said he saw something fly from the roof a couple nights ago. He said it was a krasue, but it was probably just that Skyfowl lady.”

  “What lady?” I asked.

  “I don’t know her name. They all look the same to me. But she visits a lot. She usually comes just before dark and then leaves right away, walking with a bunch of other ladies. She didn’t come today though.”

  “Wait, what are the other ladies?”

  “Women, usually elves and dwarves and humans. They show up throughout the day. I don’t recognize any of them. I think they’re trying to join the church. They’re usually dressed like they’re about to go to the Desperado. Bubba Lane says it’s because women are stupid. My mama slaps him around some when he says that and then pinches his ear until he apologizes. Then she makes us all line up and call him stupid. He doesn’t like that much.”

  “Do you know where the Skyfowl takes the ladies?” Donut asked.

  “No,” he said. “We’re not allowed to go past the street. Mama says it’s dangerous out there.”

  I looked at Donut. So a bunch of women from out of town were coming to this temple, and then they were led away by a female Skyfowl. Interesting. We needed to get moving.