Splain’n to do
Chp 31
Once Elim was fully out of sight and earshot I let myself laugh. It was fucked up, but Stalin had looked really cute when he was begging to be allowed to murder him. The lady hound rubbed up against my side, wanting pets and she got them. Stalin was sulking now, which didn’t diminish his cuteness in my eyes.
“How about I make you guys a dining hall and put the bodies in it?” I asked, remembering that I’d taken their snacks away.
“By the pool!” the lady hound said, yapping happily at the idea. I immediately constructed a room then tossed the bodies from my inventory into it. The guards I’d buried I decided to leave where they were. I could make proper graves and tombstones for them later. Their deaths had freed me from worries about my tithe, so I felt I owed them something in gratitude.
“How often do you need to eat by the way?” I asked as I gave the lady hound a good scratch.
“Eat?” The lady hound asked me with her head tilted. It was weird, like she didn’t understand the world.
“You know, bite prey, chew, swallow… For energy...” I trailed off as my confidence waned.
“We live on fire mana,” Stalin said, confused but seeming to catch on better.
“Then why were you gnawing on bodies earlier?” I asked, something twisted uncomfortably in my guts. I felt like I wasn’t going to like the answer but didn’t withdraw the question.
“I like how they fizz in my mouth!” The lady hound barked enthusiastically.
“I enjoy chewing bones,” Stalin said more calmly.
I was seriously glad I had decided not to try using them or a different one of their kind as Elim’s guardian. They were cute, but absolute fucking terror on legs.
“I’ll have to see about chew toys then,” I said as my insides tied themselves in queasy knots. I’d been more accepting of the idea of them savaging the dead when I thought they needed to. Since I now knew it was recreational. my tolerance suddenly dipped uncomfortably low. That wasn’t their problem though.
“Let me know if you need anything or have questions,” I offered, my mind drifting to build projects.
“Why go out of your way to help humans?” Stalin asked flatly. I was surprised by him taking me up on the questions option. I’d expected something like a demand for toys or a bigger habitat area if anything.
After my surprise faded, I took a moment to consider the answer. I had plenty, but most of them weren’t something Stalin would care about.
“Well, partly because I used to be one,” I admitted without any shame. I wasn’t one anymore, but I still remembered things and could sympathize. Mostly anyway, or at least I wanted to. I knew how I’d died, but not who I’d been. Without any personal info, it was hard to tell what the source of the facts jumbled up in my head were.
It was an academic concern, rather than a practical one. I considered myself formerly human so for all intents and purposes, I was. Second-guessing that without new facts was pointless.
“And?” Stalin demanded, dissatisfied with my answer.
“I thought about it, but they were wearing uniforms. I don’t know who Earl Savex is or how important he is and I’d rather not tangle with him needlessly,” I admitted. That wasn’t all of it, but seeing the symbol of a fist breaking arrows on their chests had given me pause.
Unless I had a pressing reason to, killing soldiers wasn’t a smart idea. Someone would probably come looking for them. Later that might be an easy way to net points, but it could also backfire horribly. Even if the soldiers weren’t strong individually, all it would take was numbers. Pebbles wouldn’t break a bone but an avalanche of the things would do the job just fine.
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“And helping the whelp and his dame?” Stalin demanded. Elim had been ditched by the others, he’d technically been free game. He was also probably worth a fair amount of points, since his alignment was lawful good. That hadn’t escaped my attention, despite letting him go.
“Letting him live was partly a whim. I’d already let the others go after all. It felt cheap not to let him leave because of a little bad luck,” I admitted. Some shaky-ass reasoning morally, but nonetheless true. I doubted that Stalin would understand or appreciate my even sketchier reason of simply liking the young man once I got to know him and kept it to myself.
“The bit about his mom wasn’t though. When I was reading the entry for the disease, I found out it was manufactured by another dungeon. I could be wrong, but I feel like it’s not good to let them run amok like that,” I explained. My hatred for anyone who’d choose disease as a vector of attack was difficult to explain. Not wanting another dungeon to get a shit ton of points off of it was the best I could come up with to try and make him feel better.
The encyclopedia entry had listed the creator as Dr. Satan, along with the facts of its incubation and spread. It also listed the name its creator had given it as ‘super leet magic cholera’ and I strongly wanted them to die in a car fire for that. I was bad at names but that just felt like an attack on my eyes.
“See! She has reasons!” The lady hound yapped triumphantly. She had seemed on board for what I was saying from the start and I gave her an appreciative scratch. Stalin still wasn’t happy but instead of demanding an answer, he seemed to be thinking things over.
“One of my old masters allied with another dungeon… another fought and died in the struggle against a stronger competitor,” Stalin acknowledged slowly after a long pause. I nodded but didn’t think too deeply about the revelation.
It might be smarter to try and work together but I felt no desire to try that with Dr. Satan. I hadn’t even needed the primal jolt of territorialism I’d felt when I realized that another dungeon was at work. My only feeling on the subject was “Fuck that literal plague rat.”
“Is that all?” Stalin asked, still not satisfied. I couldn’t exactly blame him. He’d witnessed my awkward-ass conversation with Elim. I’d been exuding an “introverted teenager trying to make friends” vibe, not dungeon master.
Maybe it was lazy, but I hadn’t put much thought into my decision on the point. A small gain in exchange for resources I didn’t really need had been fine. I still dug around in my brain for a new point to make.
The exercise wasn’t entirely for Stalin's benefit. I wanted him to understand and feel confident in my logic, but that was a secondary goal. Really I was trying to wrap my head around the matter from his perspective.
Unlike me, he had a kind of purity of purpose. Even if it was late in the game, I should be looking for personal advantages to the situation. Ones that spoke to my needs as a dungeon, rather than the more nebulous ones linked to my problematic sense of self.
I took a couple of moments to think it over and the hounds waited patiently. I turned the matter over in my mind repeatedly, seeing it from new angles. Doing my best to strip away the more knee-jerk impulse behind what I’d done.
Like shifting tiles on a map something finally clicked into place. There was a very good reason I should want to do something about Dr. Satan.
“I need a local population. They’ll point out where I am and let adventurers buy supplies and things,” I began, warming up to the idea. There was a difference between being somewhat remote and fully removed from any kind of settlement.
“If everyone dies, it's going to be a lot harder to draw anyone in. Especially if they assume the area is cursed or they’ll catch the disease,” I finished. I felt proud of myself because despite bullshitting it after the fact, it was still a valid reason.
“See, Mistress is clever!” The lady hound said, laughing and brushing against Stalin’s side affectionately.
“Clever enough to give that male a sword to kill her with when their alliance fails,” Stalin responded severely, throwing his nose in the air. I felt my orbs flicker in surprise. I had decided to give Elim the repaired sword, but I wasn’t sure how Stalin knew that.
“Well, I’ll have to build this place up so he can’t,” I said wryly. I wasn’t worried about that eventuality. Less because it was impossible because of the deal, and more because I felt confident I was more valuable to Elim alive than shattered. No sense in killing the goose that laid the golden egg, at least not without significant cause.
“Sounds metal, I’m in,” the Lady hound said cheerfully while Stalin kept his grumbling up.
“Blackmore, that’s what I’ll call you,” I said to the lady hound. I couldn’t remember if it belonged to a band or a guitarist, but it made me think of metal.
“I like it!” Blackmore said approvingly.
“Race you!” she howled in challenge. Stalin scrambled to his feet and took off, letting out a deep howl as he raced after her. Watching them go I felt a little jealous; I wasn’t fast. Or at least I’d never gone fast. Curious, I went chasing after the pair, wanting to find out.