The dungeon hub was steeped in the gloomy lights of oil plants hanging off the walls. The flickering fire of the hearth brought some warmth, but far from enough to make me comfortable. Only a few figures roamed about the place. The dwarf from before was sitting on a stool next to a barrel of something and some other adventurers sat near the stairs to the second floor and talked in hushed tones. None of them caught my attention and how could they? Because right in the middle of the hub, sitting legs-crossed and spiteful, was the red wizard.

“You are difficult to kill, Kindra Van Groer,” I said. She just glared at me with the fires of hell burning behind her orange eyes. “You look battered and worn.” I added trying to spur on the conversation for she was in a sour mood for some reason.

“Oh, I do, do I?”

“Yes.” I said for it was the truth.

“I wonder why I look like this. Hm, let me think, oh right. You let me die in a hole full of rats.” She got up from the chair, her torn robes showing plenty of her battle-weary flesh. It truly was a sight to behold and admire.

“Let you? I didn’t let you die, wizard. I made a choice.

“And he was your choice!” She roared pointing at the shivering goblin clutched to my long, muscle-bound leg. I knew what my answer would entail but a Shieldfather did not lie when it came to matters of war, death, honor and loyalty. I wanted to tell her that indeed she was the first choice, but a string of coarse words from my right stopped me.

“Yer left her to die, did ye?” The dwarf warrior Ramdun of Khaz’Moob accused me before I could answer, postponing the inevitable tears in Bleff’s eyes. He dug a finger in my bronze arm with a mug in the other hand and glowered. “Ye bastard. If ye weren’t a tank, I’d show ye!” He threatened, fist waving.

“Who’s a tank?” Yet another, but unknown voice said. Kindra rolled her eyes and sighed. A few long steps later, a tall white-robed fellow appeared with silvery hair and pointy ears protruding between his strands. His face was long and noble, a certain wisdom glimmered in his eyes. He looked me up and down and smiled.

“Wow, you’re huge. You tank good?”

“I tank well,” I said returning my focus to Kindra, but pointy-ears would not seize his uninvited introduction.

“My name is Marabel Ilumius Moontreewoods.”

“Shieldfather,” I said and pushed him to the side. He stepped back right in front of me and smiled again.

“I’m a whisperwinder, a healer from the great ancient order of The White Falcon. I have studied the great works—.”

“You’ve studied shit, Marabel. You can’t even read. Now piss off, I’m in the middle of a conversation here.” Kindra snapped and the entire room felt suddenly warmer.

“I can read!” The silver-haired fellow said though his voice was croaky, devoid of any confidence. “I read a hundred books once! All the longest ones, too!” He continued but with every word he uttered, he took a step away from me and back towards the chairs in the far-left corner.

“You were saying? Kindra closed on me. Looking down at her I noticed there was now a small bald-spot on her scalp left by either fire or rat-bite. Possibly both. Though she was the size of a Varian child and probably lighter than one, there was a ferocity about her that almost made me fear her. Almost, for her fires were barely enough to warm me, let alone hurt.

“I said your death was not my choice. Besides, it was a warrior’s way to die and you should not feel aggrieved just because you slipped through Kold’s grasp. You should hope to die the way you almost did down there.”

“I should hope to die covered in rats?”

“Perhaps something larger and more menacing would have been better, yes.” Kindra grabbed a handful of her remaining hair, grinded her teeth then tore out a few strands. I grimaced, for that was not the way a warrior should behave.

“If only I could burn you to cinders! But I can’t do anything to you! It drives me insane! You. Drive. Me. Insane!” I sighed exhausted by the fury I stoked in those around me. I couldn’t understand Godfrey who I respected, I couldn’t understand Kindra who excited and warmed me. The only one I understood was Bleff who was still clutching to my leg, sniveling and though he thought I didn’t notice, I knew he was wiping his snot against me.

“If only I could fight a hundred demons now. It would be easier than having to converse with you people.” Kindra didn’t seem to acknowledge my words at all.

“Why did you leave me there when you could see my health bar wasn’t empty? Huh? Is it because you’re a clueless idiot? Is that it?”

“I did not notice the health bar, no.” I said somewhat shamefully.

“And you! Goblin! I know you know how things work. But you kept your dirty little mouth shut, didn’t you?” She grabbed for Bleff who used my legs to shield himself from her angry swipes.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Let the goblin be. He’s as dumb as he’s dirty, but he’s not evil.”

“Yes! I’m…Not evil!” Kindra’s nails dug into my leg trying to snatch the goblin so I pushed her away as softly as I could.

“That’s enough, wizard. I came here to rest and my heart warmed when I saw you live. Yet, you squander Kold’s gift trying to find someone to blame for your own wounds.”

“Go! Drink, eat, fuck! Do whatever you like. You’re the tank, you can leave anyone behind you want.” She said and turned away returning to the warmth of the hearth.

“We have a tank?” Someone from upstairs yelled.

“Who’s a tank? Will he tank?”

“I can heal!” A woman’s voice said before a stampede of eager men and women thundered down the stairs pushing and grabbing forward like demented demons smelling a Shieldson’s blood. Humans and lizards and tall and small creatures, some hairy, some bold and tattooed, others pierced with silver jewelry and others still with skin of stone or wood. All shapes and sizes, a dozen and more to choose from. They all vied for my attention and their voices and bodies drowned out the image of Kindra sitting at the hearth. Each claimed to be indispensable, skillful, smart and strong. Each offered a lifetime of loyalty.

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Just as the swarm of potential heroes was about to drown me in pleads, a rough, almost animalistic voice bellowed behind me.

“I am a tank!” The room fell silent instantly and as I turned, I saw a man only a head shorter than I standing in the doorframe, the sunlight behind him was casting his face in darkness. He had the build of a proper warrior with broad shoulders, thick muscly arms and two axes in each hand.

As he walked into the light of the oil lamps, he revealed his true nature. Long filthy black hair with clumps of dirt, an unkempt beard ripe with lice, animal skins covered parts of him, where they didn’t, old scars told the story of war. A barbarian. A savage, a witless animal in the skin of man. Everything they accused me of being, this man was. I didn’t hide my distaste. I couldn’t hide it. But seemingly neither could he.

With a grimace of disgust on his battle-worn face, the barbarian looked me up and down then spat onto the hardwood.

“What the fuck you think you are?”

“Who are you to talk to me like that, dog?” I retorted tightening the grip on my sword. Bleff circled my legs so he could hide in a different direction. The heroes of Underock took several steps back. A frantic murmur broke out among their ranks, the only word I could discern was ‘Northman’.

He pointed an axe at me then roared in laughter, “You think yourself a Ganta God? Do you? Here in the deep south? What a fucking joke the gods are!” He shook his head, “Fuck you Kold, fuck you for this!” My blood boiled at the heresy and even more so at the accusation. I did not know what a Ganta God was, but judging by the rest of his words, it wasn’t a compliment at all.

“Turn your words to steel, barbarian,” I said and pulled free my shield and grinned. Despite everything, my guts ached for the thrill of bloodshed.

“You can’t fight inside the hub!” Bleff’s croaky voice warned me. “A brawl is one thing, Shieldfather but if you shed blood here, the gods—.”

“Be silent, goblin,” I ordered. “A barbarian will not mock me and the gods and remain to see another cycle.”

“You Ganta whore will rue the day!” He roared and just as he took a step forward, I felt the warmth of Kindra graze my shoulder. She moved in front of me forcing the barbarian to steady his assault.

“You’re a tank, you say?” She approached him fearlessly then lowered a hand on his axe and pushed it down. The barbarian seemed entranced by her, his whole body suddenly relaxed and he smiled. I on the other hand felt the fires of hell rage through me. My heart thumped in my throat.

“Come, forget about him. Let us go together and clear out the underground. I bet you’ll do much better than him anyway. What is your name?” She placed a hand on his large square shoulder covered in stinking animal fur. The barbarian grunted like a rattlewyrm but then grinned again showing his yellow teeth and filed canines.

“Woflman,” he said.

“Well, Wolfman. I’m Kindra Van Groer, a red wizard. Come, let’s leave this bunch behind us. There is much more useful killing to do.”

“I can heal!” A young girl said enthusiastically then pushed by me.

“You have my axe!” The dwarf Ramdun said.

“No thanks.” Kindra answered. “You and you.” She pointed at a gawky creature with wood for skin and a bushy green canopy for hair and the sickly looking dusker rogue from before.

“Not the only king in the castle, anymore, huh, big guy?” The raspy voice of the half-dead rogue said as he passed by me.

I could not speak for the treachery unveiling before my eyes could not be put into words. Had I deserved any of it? For three-thousand cycles I had born the brunt of Hell’s fury against my shield and soul only to be mocked and humiliated. I defended this world so that the only spark of hope I cherished would choose a filthy, illiterate, worm-brained barbarian over me. There was nothing like this in Hell. Not even the demon princess could wring such a fate. I stared at the wooden floor at my feet trying to come to grips with it all.

“Next time, I’ll let you lick the blade of my axe.” Wolfman said as he made for the door with Kindra and the others in tow. I did not take kindly to threats, they either made me laugh or draw my weapon, but I felt like neither.

“You alright, Shieldfather?” Bleff’s voice was a whisper. I collected my thoughts and locked eyes with the wizard then spoke in soft tones though my soul was screaming.

“Make it so, Kindra Van Groer. May you find a good war to die in.”

“Hah!” The savage roared disappearing into the cold of day. Kindra glanced at me before she left and for a moment, I thought I saw a hint of guilt that quickly dissolved into a mocking sneer.

Trust only the brother next to you.

The words of Great Oomer rang truer than ever before. As soon as they left, a collective gasp of relief echoed across the dungeon hub.

“Them Northmen all smell the same. Good think he’s gone,” Marabel said.

“What’s the lad doin’ ‘ere anyway? A Northman so deep in our fine lands, that don’ sound right at all to me it don’t.” Ramdun added.

“So…You want to tank the dun—.” A third voice from the group of a dozen or so remaining beggars began, but I just walked out and closed the door behind me. Bleff finally let go of my leg and stretched his neck on the porch.

“Sheesh, that was uncomfortable.”

“What is a Ganta?” I asked.

“Ganta? No idea. I’m as new to this world as you are, fellow. But he did seem to recognize you as one. Wonder what that was all about. Hey, on that note, can I ask you something? How come you didn’t bash his head in? You know I saw you threaten to fight a dozen armored guards with your bare hands for lesser insults.”

“You told me not to,” I said though that was only a half-truth, and the goblin picked up on it immediately.

“Yeah right. No, seriously?”

“I’m Shieldfather, Bleff. And though this world has tested my honor time and time again, making me almost falter on several occasions…” I looked up the muddy dirt road toward Godfrey’s hut. “I have continued to act as a Shieldfather should.”

“Alright,” Bleff let the words roll out of his mouth. Sensing he didn’t grasp the least of what I said I continued. “My heart burns for the barbarian’s blood, but unlike that honorless dreg I have a code to live by.”

“What’s the code?”

“Will your questions ever seize!” I snapped and felt guilty immediately after. Bleff cowered before me again and that just made it worse. Never before had uttering the truth been so difficult. I didn’t care for the barbarian; I could have taken his head then and there. It was Kindra’s shameless betrayal that steadied my wrath. I would not shed blood in the name of envy, it was the lowest of motivations unfit for a Varian of my stature. But how would I say this to Bleff whose life I had thrown away for Kindra’s back in the dungeon? Shame had coiled itself around my heart and squeezed it empty of honor. I couldn’t tell the truth, I couldn’t bare Bleff’s face when presented with it.

Demons! Pisshaulers and bilescreamers, mudgorgers and hornhawkers take me for I can’t stand this torment no longer.

“Alright, big guy. You’ll tell me one day about that code of yours. Right? Or you won’t. That’s fine too.”

“I need to talk to the priest. I need to leave this rotten place.”

“Can’t argue with that, let’s just hand in the quest here at the board.” I heeded the goblin’s words and leaned my hand against the board.

DUNGEON QUEST: Underock Underground Complete!

DESCRIPTION: Something beneath Underock has been stealing grain from the Underockians. Find the entrance to Underock's underground and investigate.

REWARD: 200 XP

“Oh, sweet momma, yeah, that hits the spot…” Bleff’s tongue lolled, and his eyes rolled back. He just stood there as if drowned in a lake of pleasure, drooling away. I reluctantly poked him with a single finger and to my utter horror, he quickly wrapped his lips around it and sucked on it giving off the most horrendous moans imaginable. I pulled my hand back then slapped him across the face.

“Oh, shit. What happened?”

“You were sucking on my finger, goblin. Have you no shame?” He rubbed his cheek.

“I did? Huh…Alright, sorry for that. I hit level six and almost creamed my pants. That was some sensation.” He still seemed barely present.

“To my very reasonable displeasure, you’re not wearing any pants. I feel disturbed to even have to say it but do refrain from inserting anything of mine inside your mouth.”

“Hah! Will do,” he chirped with a jovial tone. My eyes landed on the little church’s entrance door which had swung open. Out came the priest, seemingly drunk again. I eyed the puddle in front of him and gnashed my teeth.

“Not again!” I roared then dashed across the mud road and caught the fat holy man before he plunged into the dirty waters again. As I cradled him in my great muscle-bound arms, the inebriated face looked up at me, eyelids half closed.

“Father,” he muttered.

“Yes, I am Shieldfather,” I said my heart suddenly racing again.

“Can I go out to play with the farmer boys?” And just like that my soul was crushed once more.