She currently had a pool of 28 mana points. She had two pieces of mana toast and a pile of mana restoration potions, though with her two-minute cooldown between potions, their use in battle became negligible. So we decided to wait and see what we faced first.
My plan wasn’t too exciting, but it was safe. The door to the main chamber didn’t seem to be opening, at least not yet, so we were going to use our tried-and-true method of firebomb and run.
But just as I pulled a boom jug out of my inventory, our luck ran out.
The music abruptly stopped. My ears rang, feeling heavy in my head. Within the chamber, the cheering ceased. The double barn doors started to open. Behind us, the door to the secondary chamber slammed shut. Above, new, more familiar music started to play.
Boss Battle!
That’s right! You have discovered another lair of a Neighborhood Boss!
Put your game faces on ladies and gentlemen! Aaaand Here. We. Go!
“Shit,” I said, scrambling toward the barn doors. As I ran, I had a brief moment to marvel at how much I’d changed in the past week. My original instinct would’ve been to hide. Instead, I ran toward the danger.
I lit the torch on the jug, and I tossed it directly at the still-opening doors. Just as the jug took flight, the doors flew all the way open, revealing a mass of about 40 kobolds emerging from the room, cheering and chanting. I did not see any boss at all.
The world froze with the jug in midair. It hung like a comet. The group of kobolds were just starting to look up at the object in the air, rocketing toward them, their eyes registering surprise.
My eyes focused on the kobold in the center of the congregation. He still appeared to be one of the level-five kobold riders, but he was much better dressed. He wore what appeared to be a fur coat made out of dingo fur and wore spiked boots, making him a head taller than the others. In his hands he held a small, metal-reinforced cage, about the size of a shoebox. His hands were frozen in the act of pulling open the enclosure, the little entrance pointed directly at us like a gun barrel.
Uh-oh, I thought.
Our mugshots splattered into view, and the Versus stamped onto the image.
Ralph
Frenzied Gerbil
Level 11 Neighborhood Boss!
Before we send you off to certain death, it’s time for a short history lesson.
When the Black Death swept through 14th century Europe, killing upwards of 200 million people and forever altering the course of human history, one of the original culprits of the epidemic was said to be the black rat, carrying plague-infested fleas into population centers to wreak their destruction.
This is, in fact, not true. The true perpetrator was actually the Asian great gerbil, who took advantage of the warmer climate to travel the silk road and bring the disease into Europe.
This is only important to know because Ralph, champion pit fighter of the kobold training grounds, lives his life in a perpetual state of rage. Why? Because he feels that human death toll of 200 million is much too low, and he will do everything in his power to triple that number.
Starting with you.
The only survivor of a family of gerbils left to starve by a child who’d grown bored with the pets, Ralph had to commit unspeakable acts of cannibalism in order to endure.
Part earth rodent, part the embodiment of death, Frenzied Gerbils are regular mobs one might encounter on the fifth or seventh floors. But Ralph here is special. He has dedicated his existence to fighting and training in hopes that one day he might exact his revenge against the humans he so despises.
He is fast, he is angry, and by the time you’re done reading this, he’s already halfway to your jugular.
You might want to duck.
The moment the extra-long description ended, the world unfroze, and chaos erupted all around us.
I threw my body to the ground just as the furry, squealing rodent sailed over my head. He’d shot out of the carrier so fast I hadn’t even seen him.
At the same moment, the boom jug exploded in the midst of the kobolds, evaporating most of them instantly, including Ralph’s owner, the pimped-out kobold.
The fist-sized ball of fur screamed with rage as he landed harmlessly down the long hallway. Donut jumped to my shoulder and shot a magic missile at the tiny monster, and she scored a direct hit. It flew further back, sliding and tumbling. A health bar appeared, indicating she’d taken maybe 15% of its health away.
“Good shot,” I cried.
The tiny boss looked mostly like a regular gerbil with the exception of its mouth, which defied logic and physics. Its ravening jaw appeared normal when closed, but when the tiny, absurdly cute creature screamed, its mouth opened huge, just as wide as the dingoes it fought in the arena. It squealed angrily now, and its mouth burst open, obscuring the small creature attached to it. This was a round, frothing set of gnashing teeth big enough for me to stick my entire head within.
“All righty then,” I said, standing to my full height as the creature snarled at us and prepared to charge again.
“Carl, I can’t help but think this boss has been placed here for a very specific purpose,” Donut said. She shot it again with a magic missile, but this one missed. The gerbil squealed and jumped back.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Most of the kobolds were dead, but a few at the edges of the blast had survived. One kobold, trailing blood, dragged itself to the wall and pressed a button recessed against the wall near the barn doors. A deep rumbling filled the chamber as the cages all started to open.
“Bad idea, buddy,” I called to the kobold.
The dingoes emerged from their cages. Their dots on the minimap remained white. They slunk low, growling. Most of them were still injured, in obvious pain. But whatever spell had kept them under the control of their kobold slave masters had been broken by a simple act of kindness.
One of the dingoes—that first one we’d fed—leaped out and pounced right onto Ralph. It happened quick, lightning fast. The one-eyed dingo swallowed the rodent whole in a swift, snapping gulp. Just like that, and the boss was gone.
Behind us, the remaining kobolds fell back as the other dingoes turned on their former masters, dropping upon them and ripping them apart savagely. The kobolds weren’t armed, and there weren’t many of them. The barking, snarling dingoes finished them off in seconds.
If we hadn’t turned the dingoes on our side, this would’ve been a much more difficult battle. That had been the “trick” of this particular boss room. I silently thanked Mordecai for his advice. As unfair as this world was, it was still a game. There were puzzles and hidden paths to survival, and we needed to continue to keep our eyes open.
“Well, that was quite easy,” Donut said. “And a little anticlimactic, if I must say so.” She looked back at the first dingo, the one who’d eaten the boss. “I guess I was wrong.”
I looked about the room. The kobolds were all dead. From the main boss chamber, the sound of multiple, unknown creatures started to howl and trill and yip. These weren’t particularly loud or menacing sounds, and I could barely hear them over the background music. None of them sounded like dingoes. Now that the smoke was clearing, I could see within the boss chamber. Like I expected, it was a small fighting arena. More cages circled the distant walls. I couldn’t see the contents from this distance, but it was a mix of red and white dots. I suspected if we hadn’t killed the kobolds so quickly, one of them would’ve likely run back in and opened those cages as well.
The boss music still played, and the realization startled me. “This isn’t over yet,” I said. “We’re missing something.” I formed a fist, preparing for an attack. “And what did you mean? What were you wrong about?”
The other dingoes all slinked away. Some bared their teeth at us as they passed, but in a submissive gesture, not an angry one. This close, the massive, 200-pound dingoes were even more terrifying to behold. While they all wore the white face paint, none wore it exactly the same. They congre
gated at the end of the chamber by the locked door. They scratched at the exit, like dogs wanting to go outside.
The one-eyed dingo who’d eaten Ralph continued to stand where he’d swallowed the miniature boss. He seemed frozen in place. The creature looked at us and started to whine.
Donut looked pointedly at my foot. “It’s a small rodent. Your feet are all nice and shiny. As Miss Beatrice used to say, ‘Time to pay the Daddy tax.’”
“Wait, what? Under what circumstances would she say that?”
At that moment, the dingo’s head exploded.
The creature looked at us, cocked its head to the side, and then boom. Red and white gore splattered everywhere. The still-alive gerbil burst forth, flying directly at my throat. It was halfway across the room before the poor, headless dingo hit the ground. The tiny, furry rocket squealed.
I’d been ready. I Mike Tysoned it with all my strength. The gerbil bounced off the floor with a sickening crunch, sliding until it hit the edge of a cage. Its health was suddenly in the deep red.
It had Stunned over its head with a 15 second timer.
My gauntlet only had a two percent chance to inflict Stun on monsters. I’d never, not once, gotten the debuff to activate until now. With a baleful glance at the ceiling, I took two steps toward the tiny, unmoving form. For a moment, I contemplated just punching it to death.
Time to pay the Daddy tax.
“If it makes you feel better, she was talking about you. You’re the daddy,” Donut said, looking down at the almost-dead boss.
“No, Donut,” I said. “That does not make me feel better. That’s the opposite of making me feel better.”
I placed my bare, right foot upon the small monster.
“Sorry, Ralph,” I said.
46
The dungeon groaned. It fucking groaned.
I sighed as I wiped my foot on the metal bar of the cage. The entire dungeon rumbled as if it was experiencing a small earthquake. My HUD flickered. I felt dirty and sick. I rubbed my foot over and over, but the blood wouldn’t come off.
The boss fight officially ended, and the distant door opened. The thirteen danger dingoes fled into the hallway, scattering away to the wind.
I looted the neighborhood map. Dozens of red dots filled the hallways. These were newly-generated brindle grubs. I watched as the white dots of the dingoes continued to run toward the main artery hall, snatching up and killing the grubs they passed. The dingoes, as a pack, hit the main passage and their dots disappeared.
I wondered what would happen if they ran across another group of crawlers. Probably nothing good, at least not for the crawlers. Either way, they wouldn’t bother us again.
“Let’s see what’s in this main room,” I said.
We stepped over the slagged, still smoldering remains of the kobolds. Most of their bodies had been destroyed. I picked through what was left, looting a few spiked helmets and gold coins here and there. One had a scroll of Heal Critter and a handful of pet biscuits.
The small gerbil cage lay on the floor, undamaged by the fire. I tossed it into my inventory.
The kobold who’d pressed the button to open the cages also had a key. I examined its properties.
Master Pen Key
Opens the individual cages of both the fighters and the bait animals within the kobold fighting pits. This key is magically attuned to the kobold race. If you are not a kobold and attempt to use this key, it will only work once before breaking.
Choose wisely.
We stepped into the arena, and I was immediately assaulted by the stench of death. A small, round fighting arena stood empty. The dirt floor was stained red. Against the left wall stood a pile of bones as tall as the ceiling. Several dozen chairs made of hardened wood circled the arena. I picked them up and looted them all before approaching the line of cages against the back of the chamber.
The moment we approached the cages, each filled with a different type of monster, two achievements popped up.
New achievement! I’ll take the ceramic dalmatian, Pat!
You have discovered a reward room! Scattered throughout the dungeon, reward rooms offer crawlers items generally not available within loot boxes. Most reward rooms only allow one choice. So, if you’re in a party of multiple people, tell them I said you should get the prize, not them.
Reward: Don’t be a greedy bitch. The goddamned room is the reward.
New achievement! Menagerie!
You have discovered a pet reward room. From caterpillars who secrete vodka to basilisks who can turn mobs to stone, a good pet can make the difference between survival and the end of the road. Just remember what happened with Harambe. There ain’t no zookeepers around to shoot the monster’s ass if you bite off more than you can chew.
Reward: You have a key. It opens only one cage. Figure it out, Einstein.
“Well, shit,” I said, looking over the choices. “I guess we’re getting a pet.”
“I get to pick,” Donut said. “The thing said it was my prize.”
“Yeah, Donut. It said the same thing to both of us. It’s trying to get us to fight.”
“Really? Well that was mean.” She gasped as she noticed the very last cage. “Carl, Carl, give me the key!”
There was a line of ten cages. None of the creatures looked particularly impressive. But then again, that gerbil hadn’t looked too impressive either. Still, I suspected since this was only the second floor and the first of these treasure rooms we’d come across, none of these guys were super rare or valuable.
I was hesitant about this. In most games I’d played, you could only have one pet at a time. Would that be the case here? If so, how hard was it to give up the pet? I had no idea.
The first animal was a parrot thing with a long beak, and it was easily the loudest thing here. Its dot was red. I examined it, but the system didn’t give me any info other than its name. Juvenile Riven Wing.
The next was a green slime, then a rat, then a meatball with two legs and a mohawk called a Tummy Acher. Of the first four, only the slime and the rat had white dots. A row of equally-pitiful animals followed, looking up at us, including a white-tagged brindle grub. I thought of those massive, deadly Brindled Vespas and thought maybe that’d be a good choice.
But Donut only had eyes on that last cage.
It was a chicken dinosaur thing with pink, downy feathers. The monster cooed up at the cat, making a chirping noise.
The thing looked pitiful. I immediately saw why Donut liked it. It landed firmly in the it’s-so-damn-ugly-it’s-cute category. It was probably seven inches tall. It stood on two legs and cocked its head at me. The damn thing looked like a raw piece of chicken with a few, random pink-hued feathers attached to it. It had two tiny forearms instead of wings, and a long, serpentine tail. It squawked, opening its beaked mouth, revealing a row of sharp, tiny teeth.
It was called a Mongoliensis. It was also red-tagged.
“Is it a boy or girl?” Donut asked. “How can I tell? If it’s a boy I’m gonna call him Mongo.” The chicken thing chirped at Donut. “If it’s a girl I’m naming her Sissy.”
“It looks like dinner,” I said. “I think we should get the brindle grub.”
“Give it a pet biscuit,” Donut said. “See if its dot changes to white.”
I sighed and pulled a pet biscuit out. I tried to toss it into the cage, but a blue forcefield appeared, blocking the treat. The chicken cried in outrage and slammed its head against the bars. All up and down the row, all the creatures started squealing and squawking.
If we were going to get a pet, I knew it would be for the best to let Donut have the creature. I didn’t know for certain what attribute counted the most toward keeping it happy and not murdering us in our sleep, but I imagined charisma had a major role. And maybe strength. Donut outranked me in both. I weighed whether or not I should attempt to overrule her.
“If it’s a girl, we can get her a little dress, and she can sit on my shoulder when we do interviews. Can’t
you just see it? I’ll be like Paris Hilton with Tinkerbell.”
“Donut,” I said. “I really think..”
Warning: The cages will permanently close in thirty seconds. Translation: hurry the hell up.
“Carl, quick! Please, please, please! I’ll never ask for anything ever again. I promise!”
I sighed. “It’s going to attack us. I’ll grab it, and you try feeding it.”
I took the key, and I jammed it into the lock of the mongoliensis cage. I cracked the door, and the little bastard shot out. I grasped it in both hands. It started thrashing and attempting to bite me. The thing barely weighed anything at all.
I had to sit on the ground while Donut pulled a few pet biscuits from her inventory. They appeared on the ground in front of the thing. It continued to fight me, but it slowed down, eyeing the food. I eased my double-handed grip enough for it to peck at the food like a chicken. It took a few bites then squawked.
The dot remained red.
“Carl, it’s a boy! It’s okay, Mongo. I’m sorry I said I’d put you in a dress. We’ll get you a nice little bow tie, would you like that?”
The creature snapped forward and bit Donut directly on the nose. She squealed in pain.
“Bad! Bad Mongo!”
The baby dinosaur, still in my grip, started screaming back at the cat while I tried to keep myself from falling over with laughter. Donut hissed and swatted it lightly on the head. The small monster squealed indignantly and snapped again at her face.
I examined the creature’s properties.
Male Mongoliensis – Level 1
This is a pet-class mob.
This pet has not yet bonded with a crawler.
The stubborn and hot-headed Mongoliensis is not the type of pet to ever be “tamed.” The best one can hope for is mutual respect. And even then they still might try to eat you if the fancy strikes them. While especially powerful, fast, and vicious when they are fully grown at level 15, getting them to level 15 is about as likely as a cheerleader from West Virginia reaching her 18th birthday as a virgin.
Dungeon Crawler Carl Page 38