It turns out there was more to Mount Royale’s goblin dungeon than I’d known, despite having delved it more times than I’d care to count. We came out of the wall into a sprawling disorganized barracks. Trunks and stacks of Bunk beds with hammocks strung between them all tangled into clusters. Each looked like miniature fortresses. The walls were nearly plastered in strange and often lewd board sheets. Most in languages I couldn’t recognize, let alone read. dice, playing cards and half eaten food littered tables. It was a pattern I recognized from soldiers being called to arms in a hurry.
“Your party really did a number on this place. There’s usually at least a few stragglers, even after a boss run.” The skeleton remarked casually as we made our way to a heavy door at the back of the chamber.
We passed through the door into what must have been the warlord’s private quarters. Weapons hung on the walls beside maps of the dungeon covered in untidy notes. The room had a large hearth flanked by plush chairs, a dining table stroon with books and papers, and an equally cluttered bureau shoved in one corner. There were also open passages that I could see through to a comfortable looking bed and a bathing room . The basterd’s apartment was nicer than mine.
My guide gestured for me to have a seat at the table and rummaged around the bureau until they came up with a bottle and two mismatched glasses. The Skeleton plopped into the seat beside me and poured us each a healthy serving of the dark liquor.
I went to reach for the drink and stopped, eying the chipped glass and its oily contents dubiously. My host misconstrued my hesitation.
“Don’t worry bout the whole incorporeal thing. I’m smoothing it over for you.” Adding “Reaper perk.” By way of explanation. Then waved for me to go on.
That hadn’t even occurred to me.
I shrugged and took a hit. It was sour, fowl, and burned like a grease fire. Absolute rut gut. I poured myself some more immediately.
My new friend nodded with approval.
“Blood of the earth is the good shit.” They agreed and slammed back their entire glass. Followed by an extremely satisfied sigh. “We got some time here, but not all day. So where you wanna start?”
I topped up their glass and tried to decide what to ask first before giving it up as a bad job.
“Got questions piling up by the second.” I took another slug of booze then stared into the glass like it might hold the answers. “Too many to sort out. If I start they’re just gonna keep tumbling out till I’m screaming again. So maybe you just start talking and I’ll sit here, drink this beautiful swill, and listen.”
“Practical. I respect that.” The skeleton paused to consider where to begin.
“First things first, an introduction is in order. I am the Dungeon Reaper, but you can call me Dunnie.”
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I raised my glass. “Rowanoak the dauntless, Adventurer. Er, Deceased adventurer now I guess?”
Dunnie tipped their glass to me and went on.
“So, the short version is the Gods of your world are a bunch of bored bastards and nothing brings them more joy than getting one over on another. The Dungeon is their favourite playground because it’s neutral territory none of them can affect directly. The how and why of that is a story we’re not getting into now. Age of legends stuff. Ah, it is Dungeon, singular by the way, not dungeons. It’s all one big realm with a lot more going on than you’d guess. Anyway… you my friend got caught in the middle of a pissing match between the entirety of the big five. They’re too clever by half but not nearly as smart as they think they are if you follow me so far?”
I nodded along. I’d known Scholarly types that would’ve given a limb for that tidbit about dungeons being one realm.
“That party you were with is one they keep an eye on. They get up to the kinda nonsense the Gods love wagering on. So when the Endless Deeps suddenly placed a bet on a failed run in some minor Goblin tunnels the others got real interested real fast. Kicking it up to a full on Dungeon event. Different rules. More Scrutiny. Higher stakes. My guess? The Deeps was putting on pressure to try and force the others to fumble and reap rewards from the penalties, that worked so far as it went. Verdant Growth took the bait. But that sword was a trap, Likely put together by the Shifting Winds and Molten Heart. Rare items show up all the time. Unusual but not unexpected. An unique item with a clear providence? Different story. The Deeps was caught red handed. Still if it wasn’t old hard asses turn in the big chair you've probably been fine. Relatively speakin’ anyway. But he Loves dropping the hammer that one. With two clear violations of the First rule he had the perfect excuse to bring out the BIG hammer. Scuttle all their schemes in one swing. It cost him the bookies cut for the event but spite can be its own reward when you're a self satisfied ass. Now we get to the part that really affects you. You see during a full event the souls of the heroic fallen get remanded to the biggest winner. It’s a kinda Bonus cause as a rule if they aren’t one of the gods devotees they get to ransom them to that Soul’s particular God. Souls still end up in their proper place and Gods can turn quite the profit. That does mean however that the destination of your soul is a prize as far as the Big Five are concerned and because the Mountain Man declared ALL prizes forfeit. You are now persona non grata to the big five. Which Also means sorry to say, none of the littler gods are gonna be able to scoop you up either. That Decree on you is no joke.”
I tried to let that all sink in. Honestly it reminded me of some of the pettier Guild politics back home. I did my level best to be well away from that shit these days. I guess the priesty types were actually on to something with the whole ‘as above so below’ line. I’d never been the religious sort but I found myself to be less disposed to the Gods by the second. Or at least the Big Five as Dunnie called them.
“Right. So where does that all leave me?” I asked.
“That’s where I come into this mess. It’s a reaper's job to shuttle souls about and make sure they end up where they're supposed to be. You though are a soul without a destination, effectively barred from all the godly realms. Now, I take My responsibilities very seriously and am not best pleased when the gods make a pig’s ear of my purpose with their little games. I’m in your corner here but I’m not gonna lie, our options are pretty limited.”
I had a feeling that was where things had been heading. No Cushy afterlife for me it seems, but my gut was telling me I could trust Dunnie. I can recognize the air of someone willing to move heaven and earth to set things to order. It’s an air some of the best adventurers I’d ever come across shared. Dunnie also gave me booze when I really needed a drink. That could not be overlooked.
“Alright. We’ll figure things out. First though, does this drinking trick of yours work with food too?”
The reaper perked up at the question. “Sure does, wanna raid the boss's larder for snacks?”