A long time ago, the three races of the surface world grew tired of war and used their mights to defeat the lower races, commonly referred to as monsters.

The people were unsatisfied with mere victory, they demanded the monsters be wiped out completely, every male, female and child until a human, elf or dwarf could live without the fear of a forest troll raiding your village or a pack of goblins stealing your food, not to mention the world-level threats like dragons.

Despite the people’s wishes, the leaders knew this couldn’t be practical, because the monsters carried an energy inside of them, an energy which was capable of giving an average man the strength to defeat a dragon, an average craftsman the ability to make technology far beyond the understanding of the common peasant and gave every mage the ability to change the very fabric of reality on a whim, this energy is called by many names, soul energy, life essence but the term used by the common man and woman is “experience power” or “XP”.

Once the population of every race was reduced to the point of posing no threat, they were all thrown into massive underground constructions called dungeons, designed to be the optimal, self-sustaining breeding grounds for the monster populations to replenish to be slaughtered for XP every ten years.

The more dangerous races were hunted into extinction, races such as dragons, arch demons and devils were eradicated.

Once every ten years, an elite group of high-level warriors, mages and other skilled fighters are permitted to enter the dungeon of their choice, accompanied by nobles or craftsmen who have been recognised by the crown as talented and worthy of using XP to further their abilities and who wished to become better at diplomacy or trade by gaining XP passively, through merely being in the vicinity of dying monsters they could gain XP.

If a surface race is to gain over one-hundred levels, they will be given the title of a hero, someone who demands respect from even a king, someone who if they would please, could spend the rest of their life in luxury.

“It’s almost that time again…” mumbled the fur-covered humanoid, a beast man. His eyes wandered around the rocky walls of the inn.

Before him stood a bowl made from a human skull, most likely from one of the past cullings.  

From across the table made from dried vines tangled into a basket-like texture, strong enough for the smaller monsters.

“Yeah, you heading down?” asked the lizard-man at the till, he was using a rag scavenged from last decade’s invaders.

“No way! You saw what they did last time! They all headed straight down!” the beast-man barked almost knocking the skull filled with mushroom stew over.

The dim light from the dirt-lamps gave off a spectrum of colours, going from vibrant reds to cold blues, since no mana could be used inside the dungeons because of the enchanted bricks and since there is no source of wood or wax down here, the monsters have resorted to using dirt-lamps.

A dirt-lamp is essentially created with the use of compressed monster waste and rotting corpses, processed by slimes and fungi into an amber crystal which gives off light when wet.

“If you break the bowl I’m replacing it with your skull!” warned the lizard-man, resources like these were rare in the dungeon and the monsters wanted any form of luxury they could get.

A wet slurping sound came from the corner of the room, the beast-man looked down and saw the light green puddle, it was a slime.

“Hey! I asked you not the do that until I close up!” complained the lizard-man as he grabbed a wooden shield, its front was painted with bone-chalk into the image of a lizard-man slipping on a puddle with the caption “Beware, slimy floor.”

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“Now~ now~ it’s~ not~ like~ you’ll~ have~ any~ customers~ today~ anyway~…” the words came from the slime slowly, like how you’d expect a typical stoner to talk.

“Would it kill you to talk any faster?” the beast-man grumbled as he grabbed the skull and drank from it, the clear-brown liquid inside somehow tasting both foul and remaining basically flavourless.

“Slimes~ have~ slow~ metabolisms~ if~ I~ speed~ up~ I~ might~ die~!”

The slime slowly rolled on the floor eventually taking the general shape of a young humanoid, at first the body had no features, but slowly a face and hair appeared.

“What~ are~ you~ still~ doing~ here~?”

“Care to take a guess?” the beast-man asked as his foot started tapping the floor below, his brow twitched as the slime gathered the strength to reply.

“Is~ it~ -” it was cut off by the beast-man who cried out in aggravation, smashing the skull onto the table and spilling some of the remaining stew.  

“YES, IT’S BECAUSE OF THAT BASTARD!” he cried out.

“WATCH THE SKULL!” cried the lizard-man, he was pretty small and had a hunched back.

“Hem, take the cup away from him!” he commanded the slime.

“I didn’t finish the stew though!” the beast-man protested but it was already too late, the slime grabbed the skull absorbing it into its mass, the beast-man looked sorrowfully as the brown liquid flew out of the skull, remaining suspended inside the gelatinous form of the slime.

The beast-man stood up marching up to the till before feeling his foot step on something slimy, he fell back smashing his head on the table, breaking it in half.

“MY TABLE!”

“MY SPINE!”

The two of them cried out in unison.

“My~ boss’~ table~!” the other two politely waited for the slime to make its exclamation.

With an angry sigh the beast-man reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out a necklace of coins, each one had a hole punched, stabbed or bitten into it for easy transportation.

The beast-man placed two coins on the till, the lizard man looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“The soup is three coins today.” the lizard-man stated plainly.

“T-three?! Already?!” the beast-man’s jaw dropped in surprise, the lizard-man moved his hand up and pushed the beast-man’s jaw closed.

“God, your breath smells like a cat’s mouth…” the lizard-man sighed.

“Shut it, insect-eater!” the beast-man rebuked, frowning hard enough to expose his fangs.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just pay up before you get killed.” the lizard-man sighed.

“Fine…” the beast-man grabbed another two coins off his necklace, then placed them next to the previous three.

A while of silence passed as the slime slowly spoke up.

“Wait~ why~ are~ the~ prices~ going~ up~?”

“Somebody stole some of the mushroom harvest for this week.” the lizard-man explained.

“Guess it’s one of the plant-eaters trying to eat-up before they get killed.” shrugged the beast-man.

“Yeah, I doubt it’s some meat-eating monster planning to feast on mushrooms.” agreed the lizard-man with a slight chuckle.

“You~ guys~ seem~ pretty~ happy~”

The two monsters each raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not that we’re happy, I mean, there’s no point being sad if you might die anyway.

The slime paused for a bit, as if trying to process the statement.

“All~ I~ mean~ is~ I~ like~ seeing~ you~ two~ happy~…” a smile slowly crept onto its face.

“Damn, you’re weird…” replied the beast-man,

“Super weird.” agreed the lizard-man.

A slow tapping noise came from outside the door, the building itself, if it can even be called that, was a hemispherical shell made from clay, mud and dried vines built against the unbreakable walls of the dungeon.

“I think that’s him…” sighed the beast-man as he stood up and stretched a bit before heading towards the door.

“I’ll see you guys next after the attack.” said the beast-man with a slight wave.

“Hopefully.” added the lizard-man, though he didn’t sound morbid, realistic if anything.

“See~ ya~…” the slime said almost out of earshot.

Outside of the inn walked a monster, the lower part of his head wrapped in bandages along with his torso, ankles and elbows. He wore a leather vest he scavenged from one of the dead dwarves, white trousers that were too big from him, he had them tied with a rope at the belt and a bandage at the calves, each leg ending with a black hoof.

The uncovered part of his face consisted of light yellow eyes with no pupils, the eyes glowed in the dark faintly and the short dark-violet, almost black hair separated into thicker strands.

From either side of his head poked out two long ears, each one curving downwards lightly.

“Hey! Naxx! What the fuck are you doing out here!?” demanded the beast-man gaining the attention of the long eared monster.

“Oh, hey…” his voice was dry, soft and bored.

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me! Why the hell are you not in the lower levels!?!”

“I’m not a child, I can go top mines if I want…”

The beast-man cracked his knuckles.

“You can try.” he said threateningly.

“Come on… there’s no way they’ll go to the mine of all places.” he argued slumping his shoulders even more than they were already.

“Look! I know you want to make sure the you-know-what is done quickly, but are you seriously telling me you can’t hold off for one day!?”

A while of silence passed, “It’s one day every ten years, so unless I get killed it’ll be like… five or six days…” Naxx explained.

Naxx was picked up by the beast-man who carried him down to the very lowest part of the dungeon, the mushroom farm, though most of it was fenced-off, one part of it was designated as the bunker where the monsters hid.

“Come on… I need to -”

“You need to stop worrying everyone!” barked the beast-man shaking him up before continuing “We can’t let your species die out, after all!”

“I mean, technically, there is no other imp in this dungeon, so my species is virtually extinct already.”

“Stay positive, man!” said the beast-man trying to cheer the imp up.

“The sooner we get out the better my chances get, that’s why I should be on the top floor, in the mines!” whined the imp.

“Sure, I bet you can see all the imps in the afterlife!” replied the man irritated.

“Whatever…” sighed the imp giving up on getting to the mines.