I had hoped that by putting the traps between us and the draugr ratkin would have taken care of them for us but as they advanced none of the traps triggered or hindered them. Even the acid sprayed on the floor didn’t seem to affect them. I inspected them looking for a flag to explain their impervious nature. But no special flags were available, just the standard stuff. They were just cheating bastards. I made a mental note to report that later.

Even though Halloway called them zombies, the draugr weren’t what one would think of as zombies. The gnashing angry teeth, grasping outstretched arms and groaning wheeze was the same. The gooey visceral corpse of rotting flesh and unthinking rictus on a zombie’s face was non-present on the regular draugr. Their bodies under the nearly completely deteriorated formal clothing were dried and mummified husks. Their fur was missing in patches and crusted together by long ago dried exudate in other places. The skin revealed was yellow and crisp looking like an ancient newspaper. Contrary to their corpse-like features their blue glowing eyes intelligently took in the details around them and while their gait was stiff, it was measured and sure footed. Even the first draugr I had seen was more in line with a regular zombie than these little beasts.

I took another look at them.

Name: Corpse

Species: Ratkin

FLAGS: PRESERVED, UNDEAD, DRAUGR_1

I still didn’t notice anything special about them, the information was completely basic.

It didn’t matter, even if it was strange in some way, it didn’t change the fact that four of the little monsters were coming at us. Unlike the nearly amusing assault of their living brethren, these undead flavored ratkin gave me a sense of dread. I wasn’t sure if it was their steady confident steps, razor sharp teeth, shreds of civilized clothing or long sharp talons that did it, but they were scary as fuck. Dressed up taxidermy displays come to life like a fucked-up horror movie. Pet Cemetery meets Chucky.

The party took up position in the doorway. The chokepoint of the doorframe made things difficult for Ryan and his large weapon and he had to put it to the side. Halloway centered on the entrance and went into his shield brace stance with his sword drawn. He had to go extra low to match height with the short ratkin. Pest was looking exhausted after his sense sharing episode and had gone to the back lines to where Mave had retreated. Carmilla joined them. I absently passed Dark the remains of his spear as he glared at me with an open mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that, not like you knew how to handle it anyway.” I snapped at him, not in the mood for my normal politeness. “Fuck all if I can guess why, we get skills that learn us how to do shit.”

“I don’t have a spear skill.” He muttered.

“A, how the fuck not? We get skills for everything!” I asked in confusion. “B, then use something you have skills for! Why the hell do you think I use a frying pan?!”

“Because you are a jackass.” He answered.

“Meh. Not entirely wrong.” I said picking up Gloria and taking the position next to Halloway that Dark normally took. Just as I settled myself the draugr got into melee range.

Halloway thrust out with his sword as the little monsters came within reach. The sword punctured through the chest of the ratkin with the same sound of a pencil stabbed through a pinata. It had little to no other apparent effect on the monster, not even a visible wound as the crusty fur hid the site. The creature hardly even staggered and just kept advancing.

The last and only other draugr I fought I had killed through my own cheating means of destroying its rune-code base. That was a special circumstance. I didn’t want to lay hands on these things with their terrifying teeth and claws tearing into me. Not to mention the revealing of that skill to the group. My trust for Mave and Halloway was greatly eclipsed by my mistrust of Ryan and Dark.

As Halloway hunkered low behind his shield I made an overhand swing with Gloria with some serious intent. The heavy cast iron lending itself well to a high axe-like swing. The action felt good to my muscles, reminiscent of my logging and crafting skills when chopping trees and firewood. Don’t mind me here, cutting draugr kindling with a frying pan.

[Congratulations. You have unlocked the Synergy/1 + 1 + 1 = 4 skill!]

[Congratulations! Try Hard has increased to Level 2!]

Try hard? What the fuck was try hard? Whatever.

The results of the attack were spectacularly better than I would have expected as Gloria crashed through the draugr with a devastating effect. I felt bones and sinew shatter and pop as the creature crushed down like a beer can against a frat bro’s forehead. Having not expected Gloria to crunch through the dragur so easily I was off-balance by the pan’s weight. She was a hefty lady.

I stumbled forward and out of our defensive line. Instantly I was ravaged from the side as another draugr tore into me. It’s wicked scythe-shaped claws tearing long furrows into my flesh and shredding the sleeves of my jacket to ribbons.

[You have taken Slashing damage.]

[You have been Poisoned!]

I screamed out, trying to pull away. Gloria fell from my hands as I brought my arms up to block the frenzy of slashing claws. My head spun as the room danced in my peripheral vision. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head trying to be rid of the sudden wave of dizziness. I needed to break through this, fight back! I needed to kill this little fucker!

[You cannot activate Berserk as this time!]

I tried to rage out, but it was blocked. I had hoped that the once-a-day thing was more of a suggestion than a rule and with my impressive and indomitable willpower I could overcome the System’s restrictions! But it wasn’t so.

The creature tore into me, the sleeves of my jacket and flesh on my arms going to ribbons. If I stopped blocking it would disembowel me in an instant.

[You have taken Slashing damage.]

[You have been Poisoned!]

A wave of nausea and stomach cramps surged through my body, severe enough that it was noticeable through the pain of the mauling I was receiving. The relentless attack, bloody wounds, vertigo and nausea combined into a perfect storm to completely overwhelm me. I was unbalanced and couldn’t find the presence of mind to retreat to my companions.

[You have taken Slashing damage.]

I squeezed my eyes closed, the swaying of the room not helping my rumbling stomach. The sounds of fighting from the hallway didn’t bode well for me receiving any assistance from my party. I was on my own with this one. Thoughts of pain and impending death dominating my mind.

Like a snap, the assault stopped, a moment of blessed respite. I opened my eyes to blurrily stare at a shaft of splintered wood sticking out of the ratkin’s chest. It was reared back, cocking its head side to side like a chicken as it inspected the broken spear.

A rancid burp gurgled out of me as I watched the odd behavior. I felt like a guy who had too much beer during a football game I couldn’t get off my ass to be useful. It took a few neurons from deep down in my brain to fire up a signal of, ‘Hey asshole, find a fucking weapon and sic it!’

I pawed at my waist feeling for something useful and came back with my basic bitch multi-use knife. My eating utensil, wood whittling, rope trimming, ninja throw practicing, five-finger-filleting wonder knife was going to save my ass, or more likely, go down with me trying.

Dark’s broken spear had been a well-aimed throw, or poorly aimed if I was the intended target. I wouldn’t put it past him to perpetrate a little bit of accidental friendly fire. The ratkin clawed and bit at the air in an attempt to be rid of the unexpected fashion accessory. It wasn’t having great success clawing it so it began to shake wildly, like a wet dog, in an attempt to dislodge it.

[You have taken Blunt damage.]

My knee flared with pain as the ratkin’s wild trashing caused it to crack the end of the spear into me like a mafioso trying to collect a gambling debt. In the world before knee pain was the bane of my existence after tearing ligaments and botched surgeries. I had managed, but it was always hurting and I dodged the multitudes of things that would worsen it.

So, when the end of the spear hit me in that sensitive spot, I knew that I was ruined for this afterlife. The noise that telegraphed along my bones told me that my knee had been shattered to thousands of tiny pieces and all the ligaments within torn apart like wet tissue paper.

The pain and panic that flashed through me with that strike made me grab my knee and fall backwards to slam into the ground. Hard.

[You have taken Fall damage.]

[You have been Dazed!]

Notifications crossed my vision, but I couldn’t understand what they were telling me. My unfocused eyes goggled at the ceiling, vague thoughts about the pleasant warm light that the glowing moss proudly painted across the room were flitting through my head. I was splayed out on the cold hard stone floor of the dungeon and it was very unforgiving in its receival of a nice soft human body. I wonder if it was related to Mr. Crush-The-Fuck-Out-Of-You.

A nasty gargle of hot bile climbed my throat and I coughed and spluttered as I tried to inhale it. Rolling to my side I hacked and sputtered trying to expel the yuck. Delightful thoughts of pretty glowing lights left me and sensations slowly returned to my fuzzed mind.

Acute sharp pain split my arms,. my head throbbed with a ache that radiated outward, and a knee cried out to me with all of its woes and assumptions of complete destruction. However, my hand burned with an intensity that put it center stage amongst the others. The other pains were only a minor inconvenience in comparison.

My blurry eyes were drawn towards it. I had a delightful thought that maybe it had gotten too close to a merrily blazing fire, they were always so nice to stare into. I frowned. Instead of pleasantly dancing flames I found a puddle.

I lifted my searing hand and struggled to focus on it through my daze. Something wasn’t right with it. My closed fist, which still kept hold of the knife, was wafting with a faint mist and brown fluid was streaming from between my fingers. Kind of if I was squeezing a brown gravy packet to death. Where the hell did I find gravy? My stomach roiled at the thought of food and I resolved to not go through with a taste test.

I tried to release the knife, but my hand refused to part with it. It just wouldn’t work. I was thoroughly glued to it.

[You are no longer Dazed.]

[You have resisted damage.]

My eyes and mind cleared, some of the fuzzy leaving me, and I was able to better take in the sight. The knife was smoking, its blade glittering in the light as if its lined surface was shiny new, cleaner than I had ever seen it.

[You have resisted damage.]

The grip of the knife was thick and gooey. I looked to be melting and gluing me and the knife together, it oozed through my fingers. A drop of the goo fell from my hand in a slow exaggerated stretch like melted mozzarella.

“The fu—?” I started.

[Your resistance has been overcome.]

[You have taken Acid damage.]

I screamed, my hand screamed, I’m pretty sure the knife screamed too. Scorching agony burned through my hand as it began to sizzle and steam. I flailed my fist trying to dislodge the acid, splattering small droplets of caustic goo all around me.

[You have taken Acid damage.]

The flecks of goo speckled my jacket and face with tiny pin pricks of fire. In a hysterical scramble of good arm and legs I clambered to my feet. Overwhelming pain and an all-consuming need to rid myself of this had me looking around for something to scrub this substance from me.

[You have taken Acid damage.]

My eyes alit on the draugr and its bristly fur. With an incoherent wail I smashed my hand into it.

[You have been afflicted with Hysteria!]

I grit my teeth as great hissing breaths and a litany of curses tried to fight their way out. I dragged my hand across the ratkin’s quickly melting fur, it was like finger painting with strawberry jam as the mixture of acid and my own melting flesh sloughed off.

The knife was half-forgotten as it was trapped in my cemented grip. The blade stabbed, sliced and cut at the little monster as I struggled to wipe my hand clean heedless of the damage I reaped. I grasped the broken spear still lodged in it with my good hand and levered it up in an attempt stop its insufferable wiggling. It needed to hold still! I needed to be rid of this evil and horrible goop at all costs!

I wasn’t sure when I squatted down and started straddling my makeshift hand towel, but the pain in my hand lessened with each pass of its brush like fur. I scoured off the last of the acidic goo with the little fur that remained on the ratkin’s back.

[You are no longer Hysterical!]

Again, my mind cleared of an affliction, and was better than it had been since the nausea set it. I found the little ratkin looking a lot less intimidating. The acid transferred to its body had eaten through the husk-like living corpse to cut it into irregular chunks. The disconnected limbs and abdomen were inert, but the glow never left its eyes. It’s one remaining hand clawed at the spear that pinned in the small portion of torso still belonging to it. Its jagged rat teeth snapped at the air ineffectually.

My eyes darted between its struggles and my hand. My poor ruined hand. The flesh was peeled away, deep gouges revealing bone and sinew barely holding together. If it weren’t for the hilt of the knife melding it all together with its melted leather grip, I may not have had any remnants of a hand at all. I didn’t have sensation from much of it anymore since a good hunk of nerve damage was obvious. The edges of the wounds still put a special bit spice into my life though. Like rubbing your eye after chopping jalapenos. Or peeing after chopping jalapenos. Or like having your fucking hand burnt off with dungeon brand fast-acting wonder acid.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered as bile rose in my throat. The more I stared at it, the more my broiling stomach rebelled. I couldn’t hold back my bile anymore and spewed the little bit of contents left in my stomach right into the mess of ratkin between my feet.

I wiped my mouth with my good hand when the heaving stopped, and gazed down at the bile and ratkin flake cereal. Gross. I had released the spear, but the idiot undead was just spinning in a slow circle as it clawed at the ground.

“Jesus,” I said again and then scowled. Jesus wasn’t the one I should be praising for this catastrophe. Without that blessing of acid resistance I’d only have a nub on my right arm. I suppose it was time to thank him.

“Praise be he, Loki for presidency.” I muttered and stabbed my hand-knife into the ratkin’s skull. It slipped in easily and I twisted it to muss up whatever was in the draugr’s skill. I must have hit the magic spot because the light left its glowing eyes, and it stopped scrabbling around in a circle.

The act must have cost me something as the last bit of my energy was drained out of me.

[Congratulations! You have unlocked the Knife Fighting skill!]

[You are Exhausted!]

An intense wave of fatigue hit me with the notification. My whole body tremored, and I struggled to stay upright. I pulled hand-knife out of the ratkin’s head the blade coming out clean and sparkling in the glow mosses light.

My legs trembled violently as I squatted above the mess. I slowly leaned backward and sat on the floor so I wouldn’t knock myself senseless again. I wasn’t sure how many more blows to the head I could sustain in this dungeon.

I cradled my ruined hand in my lap as tears freely ran down my face.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” I complained aloud. I took stock of my body. Arms slashed with long furrows, not nearly as deeply as I had feared. Head spinning and pounding making it hard to focus. Stomach angrier than after eating a hot mayonnaise and onion sandwich left in a car all day in one-hundred-degree weather. Knee, sweet Loki, my damned knee hurt like hell, but turned out to not be destroyed as I had feared as it worked fine while I had used the ratkin as an acid scrub.

With my good hand I dug around in my pockets until I found a snake oil potion. I swallowed half of it and the bitter honey tonic pushed out the taste and sting of my disgorged bile.

[You are no longer Poisoned!]

I hummed to myself as my stomach stopped roiling, seemed something in my concoction fought off that particular ailment.

The other half of the snake oil I poured on my mangled hand which instantly felt like a mistake. Medicinal as the hacked concoction may have been, the burn of the liquid on destroyed flesh was a slam of new agony across the wound where nerves were still hanging on for dear life. I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes.

Some time passed as I wrestled my attention back from the tangle of pain that my body had become and took in my surroundings. Things were quiet.

The last two draugr were finished as well. Halloway had used his shield to press one into the floor and was standing atop it creating a draugr pancake. Impressively it looked like Ryan had punched his into complete submission. He was so strong with his barbarian muscles that he had kneaded that draugr into a dry and flaky dough.

“That was fucking horrid.” I croaked out.

“What, little zombie rats too much for you to handle?” Dark quipped from the safety of the hallway.

“I found out why your mom has a no fisting rule!” I spat out and raised my mangled fist towards him.

“Stop!” Ryan barked with menace.

A flare of anger went through me but I quickly deflated, too defeated feeling to fight that fight just now.

“Good throw.” I begrudgingly offered to Dark after I settled and hissed in pain a few times.

“I got a skill from it.” He said.

“Must have been a throwing spear, huh?” I commented, thinking on the System’s off kilter quantifications for some skills.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, “you’d have to ask your mom, she is the specialist at spear handling.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. The asshole had waylaid me. Soldily

“Burn,” Halloway said as Dark proudly turned away and went deeper into the hallway.

“Hey.” I groaned out and gestured with my wounded hand, still with knife clutched.

“Too soon?” Halloway asked with a feigned wince.

“Much.” I replied and closed my eyes, maybe a nap would do me good.

“Anything lootable?” Ryan asked eyeing the room and the dead creatures.

“No. They didn’t have anything on them,” Halloway said.

“The chest?” Ryan asked jutting his chin towards the far wall of the trap room.

“No, it burst into shreds.” Halloway said as he scanned the far end of the trap room. He called behind himself, “Mave?”

She came to the doorway and shined her renewed spotlight across the scene.

“Nothing,” Halloway said as the light swept the room.

“Oh ‘dito!” Mave said as she caught sight of my state. Funnily enough, the majority of my wounds were superficial. If I didn’t count my hand I was pretty well off. The minor wounds were starting to look a little better with scabs beginning to form over the cuts thanks to my snake oil.

“Let’s move.” Ryan grunted and started down the hallway.

I grunted and leaned forward from my sitting position to drag Gloria closer with my good hand. I was not yet brave enough to open my mangled hand and try to rip free the knife trapped in my grip.

I prayed that they weren’t fused together permanently. Wiping my ass would be problematic. I hoped magical or practical medicine would be able to repair my hand. It would be quite the shitty afterlife if the nightly reset decided it was just fine for a mangled hand-knife to be permanent addition.

“Potion?” I whispered hopefully to Mave as she looked at me with concern. She had stepped into the trap room to get a look at my wounds.

“No,” she said, her long dark hair waving gently as she sadly shook her head.

“That asshole.” I muttered.

“But I can—” she interrupted herself with a gentle touch to my shoulder and a Word.

Suddenly things weren’t so bad. Pain swept away my body as a numb tingle rolled across me. The relief that it brought nearly gave me tears of joy. I knew physical chronic pain and I knew stabbing direct pain, but when it is always with you as a constant companion the relief when that weight is lifted from your body is simply magical. No pun intended.

I stared off into the distance for a moment before coming back to myself. It seemed the euphoria or high from the analgesic Word wasn’t present. I wondered if the amount of pain it had to keep at bay was defeating those warm fuzzy feelings. Maybe the last time the Word graced me it wasn’t euphoria as I had imagined, but a concussion from a godly smiting. I did seem to slam my head into the ground a lot in this tower. I wondered if I was starting to develop some brain trauma.

I studied my hand again. It was grotesque. A jelly-like goo had started oozing from the destroyed flesh. It looked like a piece of old watermelon that had been left out for a few days. The blending of the leather handle of the knife with my skin was confusing enough to make a delineation between the two difficult. My pinky finger was half dissolved away only a knuckle and a half long. The flesh from the upper half of the rest of the fingers was gone, some of them with bone exposed.

How was I anywhere near coherent and not passed out from the shock of the this? I could only imagine it was due to the artificial nature of this place, only pretending to be life.

“Well, that sucks.” Halloway said, and I looked up to find him examining my wound along with Mave. Hadn’t even noticed him creeping up to us. Okay, maybe a little bit of a high still followed the pain-relief.

“Yea, don’t know how to go about it.” I said as I stared at my hand.

“Can I see the sheath?” He asked, and with a bit of one-handed fumbling I managed to free it from my belt and offered it to him.

“Yea?” I asked as he took it from me.

“We will just…” he said as he carefully slid the sheath onto the blade, “…put that there. Good, now you won’t poke an eye out.”

“You motherfucker.” I said and couldn’t withhold my chuckle.

Tiny cool hands touched my other hand and I found Pest was there as well. He leaned over to look at the specimen that my hand-knife had become. I hadn’t taken a chance to really examine his new hands yet, they were very interesting. Before his change they were long fingered paws, used to climb and dig, with long and sharp cat-like claws. Like before the fingers were webbed to the first joint and covered in fur, only the pads being exposed. Now his fingers were longer with shorter claws, less a hooked style and more resembling a well-manicured canine. I had the impression that they could still grow out to be a sharp and dangerous weapon if he chose to let them do so.

“We cut off?” he asked and I stared at him for a beat.

“No, you little heathen,” I said. “We will not cut off my bits.”

“Just a small bit.” He insisted and started to draw his knife-sword. “Will make valuable trade good.”

I was about to yell at him for being a little too brazen in his negotiating the removal of my parts when a sudden jerk on my arm drew my attention. A wet tearing noise accompanied the pull. I looked back and my hand was dripping with fresh blood, the knife gone and with it the skin that had been adhered to it. I needed that skin, my poor hand was almost all out of it!

Mave held my wrist with one hand and the knife in the other.

“Fast, like a band-aid.” She said. The heartless she-beast.

She offered the knife back to me, and I took it out of habit rather than any conscious choice. The remains of my palm skin and my ring finger still stuck to it. I stared at it as nausea was again burbling in my throat. This dungeon sucked.

“Yea.” I said. “I’m done. You guys can finish this fucking place. I think it has taken enough of me.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. Mave fussed over my hand moving it this way and that while I studied the inside of my eyelids for a moment. I heard Halloway chuckle as he gathered his shield and clanked noisily down the hallway to catch up to Ryan, Dark and Carmilla.

“Take some more of your medicine, and catch up quickly, before Ryan notices.” Mave said shortly after that and hustled off to catch up as well. Not like the group could go too far without her light orb’s support anyway.

“No trade?” Pest asked and I heard him resheath his blade.

“No, you little barbarian, stop trying to cut bits off me. I’ve already lost enough today.”

“Barbarian, like Ryan?” He said, reproach clear in his voice.

“My bad. You could never be that.” I apologized sincerely.

I opened my eyes to give him a look, I found my hand bandaged. With the numbing magic running though me I hadn’t even felt Mave apply it. I’d have to thank her later, for bandage and magic pain-killer.

Pest seemed to take my word of apology well and was slumped against me, asleep in moments. I dug around in my pockets until I found my flask. It was full of at least a couple barrels worth of my tonic. I drank down enough of it that I felt read to burst and saturated my arms and hand with it. I decided a break was well earned.

***

My rest didn’t last long, my words of being done with this dungeon proving to be empty. I couldn’t let the party go on without me, I felt obliged to contribute. I needed to contribute, to prove my worth.

Pest and I shuffled quickly through the hallways to catch up with them. It wasn’t too difficult with the glow moss and Pest leading the way.

We caught up with them as they were ransacking the room that had held the flying snakes. Pest wasted no time to join in and started pillaging the shelves and nests for anything valuable. Being covered in half-healed wounds I decided to not go rifling around in the refuse and risk whatever super infections Loki had cooked up for this world.

Ryan and company soon decided that there wasn’t much to find and went to formation as they entered into the unexplored hallway beyond the room. I was quite content to stick to the end of the formation. More impressively fitted stonework made up the makeup of this hallway. Maybe I should suggest to Loki that he adds more variation to his layouts. This seemed to be repetitive pretty quickly if one paid attention to the small details.

Case-in-point the next room we came to was another living room sized space with broken furniture and junk lining it. Nothing in the way of foe or loot. Pest skittered about the edges of the heaps, scenting for anything of interest, while the rest of us casually passed through. We were wary of traps but otherwise uncaring as we headed to the passageway that continued out the other side of the room. I hesitated as Pest seemed greatly interested in one fallen bookshelf that he was climbing and picking at it with focused scrutiny.

The entire delve I had a directional sensation of loot lust as to which way would the final prize. It hadn’t changed since we had entered as far as I could discern. However, as I got closer to where Pest dug, the sensation started to fuzz and become less defined. Another source of the excitement that the Treasure Hunter skill caused, if much less powerful than the final prize, came from just behind the pile of junk that Pest focused on.

Once I realized what he was obsessing over and how it corresponded to my skill’s sensations, I snatched him up. He fought me like an angry toddler being pulled away from the tasty treats in a cat litter box.

“Let’s catch up, little buddy.” I said out loud for benefit of the others before adding more quietly, “we will get this later, when less eyes and ears are around to steal it from us.”

“Okay.” Pest confirmed.

I let him slip down from my grip and he walked resolutely beside me like his little fit at being manhandled never happened.

“Lets go little Musty Man,” Mave encouraged him, she had been smiling at our shenanigans. He marched past her in his good little soldier routine, his arms pumping exaggeratedly. She grinned at me and I just shook my head. She touched my arm and whispered the pain-killer Word. The tingle flashed through my body, renewing the numbness in my injuries.

“Thank you,” I said with deep sincerity. She nodded happily and we continued through the next short hallway to the next room.

It resolved to be the same standard dungeon proportions. The standard decorations differed in this room, as within a large hovel made of debris surrounded by a knee-high pile of shredded bedding. The dwelling was large enough to house a human of normal proportions, definitely not able to fit the stature of Ryan but probably could fit a handful of Carmilla sized people. The odd nesting surrounding it made it look like a tiny hedge fence sectioning it off from the rest of the room. How quaint.

Looked like a boss sized ratkin mansion to me. But what monster would lay within? A snake-headed rat-bodied centaur, a dozen flying draugr snakes, a rat with a snake shooting bazooka, or some other wholesome shit like that I was sure. What slinked out from the hut wasn’t anything I would have guessed.

The stained fabric that took place of a door on the hut parted as the three-fingered hand of a ratkin grasped its edge. The long claws on the hand were chipped and worn, but the bright pink polish that they had been coated in was fresh and new.

The curtain slowly pulled aside to reveal a feast for our eyes.

A truly rare specimen of the ratkin species. Bulky with thick muscles and top heavy, the dark-furred ratkin was nearly five feet tall. Assumedly female, she wore an antiquated maroon flapper’s dress that held deep sweat stains at the neck and armpits. Originally tassels had been along the dresses length but many were missing leaving a mange-like appearance to the short dress. It ended well before it should have at mid-waist above a garter belt that held up loose fishnet stockings. These clothes had never been meant to fit the anatomy of a ratkin, much less one proportioned like a weightlifter.

A snout smeared red lipstick thrust out from a bright blue colored wig three sizes too big. I could only imagine the eyes hidden within the wig must have been plastered with thick coats of eyeshadow as well.

A thought crossed my mind that maybe I was miss-gendering this creature and she wasn’t an actual she. Maybe more of a he with that physique. I couldn’t really tell, but who am I to judge. To each their own.

Further details were obscured by a thick feathered boa that hung around her neck and twined around her body to trail behind her. As one might expect, it was bright pink and fluffy. If I were to assume, its name would be Pricilla. Because it was an absolute queen. A muscular, beautiful queen.

“Hey Pest, found you a girlfriend.” Dark remarked.

“No deal!” Pest snapped firmly with a little bit of a growl to his words.

The swoll ratkin lumbered towards us on skinny legs. Somone missed leg day at the ratkin gym.

“I think this one is right up your alley, boss.” Halloway suggested. “Muscle versus muscle.”

“Okay. I got this.” Ryan said as he leaned his sword against the wall, a grin on his face.

He flexed his arms and crackled his knuckles as he approached the ratkin. I rolled my eyes. Ryan was a big man, and easily had a few feet and hundred pounds of muscle on him compared to the ratkin. But I felt setting aside his weapon to go mano-o-rato with the weight-lifter ratkin was a poor choice.

I decided to inspect the ratkin.

Name: Gliding Feathered Snake

Race: Boa Constrictor

Type: Creature

Allegiance: Vagabond Clan

FLAGS: COGNITION_0, FLIGHT

Health: Healthy

Energy: Full

That was strange, I thought as I stared at the inspect screen. Why was it showing as a snake? I took some time in my paused state to consider it but couldn’t figure out why, and just chalked it up to being another bug for the reports.

As I was closing the inspect screen, it came to me that I wasn’t focused exactly on the ratkin, but rather the big pink feathered scarf draped around its neck.

“Hold up!” I shouted, but it was too late.

Ryan had closed the distance and took a wide swing at the ratkins head. His fist connected with the ratkin’s in a poof of blue hair. He hit it so hard that a blue comet streaked off to splat against the wall. Had he just decapitated the think in one hit?

The ratkin stood and blinked heavily makeuped eyes. Ryan’s attack totally whiffed, not even scraping across the flat cranium of the monster, only destroying its wig.

The pink feathered boa-constrictor struck then. It snapped out and coiled around Ryan’s arm and with a shout he staggered back at the unexpectedly attacking accessory.

The party was flatfooted in shock as the snake wrapped around his torso and outstretched arm in an instant. The speed at which it spread along his body was alarming, like a billowing smoke, fluid and inexorable in its expansion.

Halloway was the first to regain his wits and reacted with a quick dash forward. He wasn’t fast enough to block the ratkin’s first punch as it struck Ryan in the stomach. Ryan wheezed out a explosive breath, the air pushed from his lungs and bent over. The snake capitalized on this and crushed down tighter as it continued to wrap around his body. Some luck was with Ryan as when he was initially wrapped he managed to throw an arm up preventing the snake from wrapping unhindered around his throat.

The follow-up punch from the ratkin smashed into Halloway’s shield as he was able to interpose it between Ryan and ratkin. He reeled back, off balance, as the blow was taken without a chance for proper bracing.

Pest was next to enter the fray as he slinky-run forward and stab his little knives into the long snake. It twisted violently and lashed its long tail out flinging Pest away and causing Ryan to topple to the floor. The coils of the snake seemed unending as they covered his six foot height nearly head to toe.

The ratkin prepared for a follow-up swing, this time aiming for the recovering Halloway. Not liking the look of that I bullrushed forward. It was not my wisest of opening maneuvers, even though it was meant with the greatest of intentions on behalf of my friend. I had known the creature was more muscular than the other ratkins, but what I hadn’t expected was the sheer weight it held.

Partially successful in my attempt, it fumbled its next strike against my friend but beyond that I failed any thing further on its side of things. On my side it felt like I ran headlong into a concrete support beam.

[You have taken Blunt damage.]

[You have been Dazed!]

I was again dazed as I careened off the ratkin and plowed right into its hut. The small structure wasn’t built with the purpose of surviving a flying impact from a man-bod of steel like man. I crashed through the front, taking what structural supports there were with me as I slammed into the floor within.

[You have taken Fall damage.]

The walls and remains of the roof collapsed inward on top of me.

[You have taken Crushing damage.]

Fuck this dungeon. Fuck these rat things. Fuck these snakes. Fuck it. I was done and this time I meant it. Just give me the sweet release of death. I was ready.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky. Instead, I survived.