There was little else on my mind aside from bloodshed when I entered the only other large building in Underock. Inside, gathered around a crackling hearth, sat half a dozen men and women arguing in hushed words.

That was until they laid eyes on me.

The dungeon hub, as Bleff called it, was a decrepit hall filled with dusty trophies sitting on crooked, cobwebbed shelves. My gaze wandered from the people sitting around the fire to the rusty, half-deteriorated weapons in racks of worm-infested wood. A sense of decay permeated the room, but I didn’t want to dwell on it. Everything in Underock seemed at death’s door, be it housing, weapons, roads, or people.

The silence was broken by a sudden outburst of deep, coarse laughter. Sitting in a comfortably looking upholstered seat was a man much larger than any I had seen yet. His face was that of a bear and brown fur covered him head to toe, yet his build was that of a man. Leather straps held up his short pants and he had vines and flowers in his bushy black hair.

“What in the name of Vildegard the Green is this thing?” he said, pointing at me.

The others around the bear-man gave me curious, but careful looks and didn’t join in on the laughter. All except one, a tall, slender creature cast in tight black leather. A thin red scarf covered most of its face, leaving only two seething orange eyes staring back at me. The few visible patches of skin had a sickly blue-white hue to them as if rotting while the creature still walked.

My patience was at an end, and I had no intention to exchange insults once more. I walked up to the bear-man as the others looked on, grabbed him by the throat, and then threatened to sink my blade into his mouth. He grabbed onto my arm with both hands, trying to stall the well-deserved iron dinner, and though his arms seemed thick with muscle, his strength was that of a child’s.

I saw the rotten, leather-bound creature move to stop me. I leaned the tip of the sword against the bear-man’s mouth as a warning.

“Stand back, corpse. Do you not see my sword tickling your friend’s lips?” I said and it did, but not before it giggled again like some demented demon.

“I’ve fed steel to men for lesser offenses, creature. Why do you disrespect a complete stranger? What is wrong with you?”

The rotten man from what I gathered, somehow slid to the right of me so quickly I had barely noticed it. His hand landed on the hilt of my sword, and his elbow lodged itself into my ribs.

The strike did little to curb my boiling blood.

I took hold of his forearm and sunk the hilt of my sword into his shoulder. He winced in pain and dropped to a knee. A moment later, another jumped at my back, trying to restrain me. Strong hands this time. They slid under my armpits trying for a chokehold.

A pathetic attempt, truly, for I had wrestled Varian since childhood.

Before he could even try and incapacitate me, I swung him over my shoulder and into the bear-man’s lap. The furry offender yelped, curling up and grabbing onto his fruits. Only then had I seen the creature who tried to mount me from the back. A short, stocky man with a rich red beard and grey eyes.

The room suddenly brightened before a warmth spread all over my back. It felt nice, but I had little time to enjoy it. As I turned, I saw a lizard-faced woman with a branch for a staff incanting spells.

“It did nothing!” she cried, righteous fear spreading across her face.

I had no time to bask in her misery for the rotting man tackled me. Even so, I did not lose ground but stood firmly in place. The bear-man, and the short, bearded creature each grabbed hold of one of my mighty arms and it took all my strength to barely resist their attempt to bring me down.

“Enough, you idiots!” Bleff yelled, his voice croaky and weak, ignored by everyone present.

“He’s a tank! He’s a fucking tank!”

With those words, all commotion suddenly stopped. The rotting man let go of my hip, and so did the bear-man. Only the red-bearded fellow still hung, legs flailing, on my sword arm.

I shook him off and he dropped to the floor with a thud.

Suddenly the bear-man jumped from his seat and grabbed onto my leg, looking up at me with the most miserable expression.

“I beg for your forgiveness! For the love of Vildegard, take me with you. I’m a healer! The only one in the hub!”

“And a shit one at that,” the rotting man said. “However, you will need a good rogue and there’s no greater rogue than a Duskar. I will come with you, yes.”

“Such a handsome man,” the lizard lady, said curling her hands around my biceps. Her forked tongue slid in and out as if readying to lick my flesh. “So much muscle and power and tankiness, hmm… If only you had a capable sorceress in your group.”

Their sudden shift in demeanor was insane at best and demonic at worst. Bleff’s words were like a spell that changed the hearts of everyone present.

“It is, of course, a shame you fools have dirtied what little honor you had,” said a man stepping into the light from the shadows of the far-right corner. He hadn’t partaken in the short, unsatisfying brawl and seemed righteous about it.

“Keldar Brightstar,” he said with a courteous bow.

There was an air of nobility about the man despite his deteriorating tunic and splinter-ridden two-handed mace. He combed back a strand of his long white hair as he swung the clumsy weapon demonstratively.

“Paladin of the Order of the Sparrow, protector of the weak and desolate. Glad to meet you, mighty tank.”

“My name is Shieldfather,” I said.

I did not know what a tank was and yet the word had caused these witless apes to shower me with respect.

“Shieldfather,” the paladin repeated. “How marvelous!”

“Indeed it is,” I agreed.

“Stop sucking up to the giant, Keldar. Yer fucking useless in a dungeon!” the red-bearded short man said as he picked himself up from the floor and dusted himself off. “The name is Ramdun of Khaz’ Moob. I’m a proper dwarf warrior. Strong as te mountain, me friend. Ye need me in a dungeon—”

“To steal your loot and get you killed,” the only other woman beside the lizard one said.

She wore a long, dirty red robe and her hair was a mess of fiery orange just like her eyes. I had my reservations about her, truth be told. She reminded me of the fire witches at the Steel Bastion, yet she hardly radiated power close to those hated demons.

“What you need is fire, my friend,” she said, approaching me.

“Yer only good for burning yer own, you demon!” the dwarf cried.

“Are you a demon?” I asked.

“Of course not!” she claimed. “My name is Kindra Van Groer and I burn demon and non-demon alike, bronze man. The fires don’t choose.”

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“Fire can hardly kill a demon, woman,” I said.

Her ignorance, though disturbing, alleviated thoughts of demonic trickery. For now.

“Is that so? Are you a demon then?”

“How dare you!”

“Has the lizard’s fire spell done any damage to you? I don’t see any burn marks.”

“A Varian is born of the flame so he might fight fire with fire.”

“Born of fire!” she gasped and her eyes widened. “Why, you are one of a kind.” The woman took a step toward me, holding her hands out as if to hug me.

“Piss off!” the lizard lady hissed, still holding onto my perfectly formed biceps as she saw the red lady approach. She didn’t heed her colleague's warning, but instead took my face into her hands, piercing me with her seething orange eyes.

“You truly are of the flame,” she muttered, and I grinned. “I must have you.”

“Many wish it so,” I said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s takin’ the women. It’s always the same with these damned tanks,” the dwarf said and fell back onto a chair, seemingly defeated. “All ye have to do is lift up yer skirt and the tanks stick to ye like flies on dung.”

“I will incinerate you, dwarf,” the red lady hissed and let go of my face.

The lizard lady still stuck to me, however, and soon the paladin Keldar did too, appreciating my other biceps. The bear-man was still groveling at my legs, whispering sweet words of praise.

This was good.

This was normal.

Perhaps this world wasn’t as strange as I thought. It took only a day and a night for the people of this land to learn their place in my presence. But despite this surprising moment of unbridled appreciation, my heart still ached for the only thing that brought a Shieldfather true clarity: war.

“Bleff,” I said, turning toward the goblin and almost knocking over my admirers. “I have many questions. But more than answers, I seek bloodshed. What do we do from here?”

“You’re a tank, Shieldfather. You’re supposed to take the brunt of the damage in dungeons, you know? That’s why all these idiots here are falling head over heels to suck up to you.”

I thought on this for a short moment and nodded, satisfied with my conclusion.

“There is no harm in appreciating me, goblin. It is well-deserved.”

“We’ve been waiting for almost a week,” the bear-man at my feet said. “Not a single tank. That damned dwarf over there could have been a tank but he refuses.”

“I don’t like gettin’ hit on the head!” Ramdun protested.

“That’s the only thing your head’s good for!” The red lady said.

“You have been here for a week waiting on a tank?” Bleff asked, his voice quivering.

“Yes!” The druid said as if proud of it. “We can’t enter the next zone until we get to level six and the king and his lackeys have been hunting down adventurers left and right so we can’t really risk hunting in the woods.”

“Why would the king hunt us down?” Bleff inquired.

“Because he can,” the duskar said in his raspy voice.

“That is no explanation, corpse-man.” I said hating to hear empty words strung as insults rather than answers.

“Well, I ain’t got any better.” Seeing no true answer came, Bleff addressed me pulling on my fingers.

“We must choose three, no more, no less, and we can go find the entrance to the dungeon. It’s posted right outside the hub on the message board.”

“And who says you’re going, goblin?” The rotting man said.

“Eat shit, duskar! You don’t get to decide in any case,” Bleff shot back then slid behind a wooden beam and poked his ugly face out. “Right, Shieldfather?”

“Rightly so.”

I gave the rogue a flat stare and he grunted, looking away. “The goblin is with me. Where I go, he goes.”

Bleff’s face lit up at those words.

“I suggest you take the healer,” Bleff said and I nodded. The bear-man shot up to his feet and dusted himself off.

“Tamban Bambadan will keep you healthy!” He said excitedly.

“And the red lady. We’ll probably need a good caster with us.”

“Of course,” I said, not truly capable of grasping his words. Yet I found it wise not to portray complete ignorance. It didn’t matter in the end, anyway. I would slaughter whatever came my way in this dungeon of theirs with or without their help.

“And lastly,” Bleff began. “Well, why don’t you pick someone, Shieldfather?”

“You need a rogue,” the rotting man said as if commanding me. I knew of their classes from books, and it was true a rogue could serve one well, but only if he turned out to be honorable which was rarely the case.

“You want me, don’t you,” the lizard lady said, licking her lips.

“I do, but not for war.”

She suddenly let go of my arm, hissing. The fire from the hearth made her green-white skin glisten like a demon in light of the Steel Bastion.

I pushed the image away.

“Then the only one who showed some sense of honor, Keldar, you’re coming with us, mighty paladin.”

Keldar offered me a wide toothy smile of appreciation.

“I will serve you well, Shieldfather,” he proclaimed and I nodded at him, lowering my hand on his shoulder.

“I trust in your word, paladin. Do not let me down.”

“Never!”

“Well, fuck,” the duskar said and slid into a chair next to the dwarf, then pulled out a dagger from his back and stabbed the wooden armchair in frustration. “I hope the rats end you all,” he added as Bleff and the others led me outside.

“Your words are poison, corpse,” I said, turning back to him. “You should be lucky I’ve left you breathing.”

“Duskar don’t breathe,” he said before Keldar closed the door behind us. I could hear the lizard lady and the dwarf argue as Bleff brought me before the message board. There was a single notice there and below it an empty square.

“Put your hand there and apply for the dungeon quest, Shieldfather.”

I did as told and new words found their way into my Soulforge.

Do you wish to form a dungeon group with:

Bleff Deadsoon, goblin Hierophant

Tamban Bambadan, feralen Druid

Kindra Van Groer, human Red Wizard

Keldar Brightstar, human Paladin

[YES] [NO]

As soon as I accepted, the notice above the square on the message board lit up and another string of words assaulted my vision,

DUNGEON QUEST: Underock Underground

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

REWARD: 200 XP

DO YOU ACCEPT?

[YES] [NO]

I accepted once more then swiped at Bleff’s head instinctively. The goblin ducked and leaped away, then met my gaze with an insulted expression.

“There is strange magic at hand, Bleff.”

“It’s just our health bars, Shieldfather. We’re in a group so everyone can see each other’s health.”

I grunted softly in confirmation. I had never known the health of my Shieldsons for it did not matter. Whether they had a thousand points or one, they would stand and fight unmoving.

“The entrance is in the church cellar,” Keldar said. “We have tried to group up without a tank but failed to even get through the first room. Good men left their lives down there.”

“There will be ample room to take your revenge on those foul creatures who hide in the darkness and kill honorable men.”

“Yes, Shieldfather, yes!” Keldar said enthusiastically.

I liked the man. He was eager for war, but polite and civilized in speech. If he weren’t born a human weakling, he’d make a good Shieldson.

“I’ll stay behind, you know. For the buffs and all,” Bleff said.

And yet my first companion in this world was the very opposite. Alas, war beckoned me and I was unperturbed by Bleff’s unwavering cowardice. We had to carefully step over the sleeping priest, then we walked over to the small flight of stairs leading into the Church of Kold.

I wished not to look at the insides of this place in fear of offending my God, so I chose to close my eyes and told Bleff to guide me.

“What? Why?” the goblin protested.

“I wish not to see this world insult my God. Though you call this decrepit pigsty a church, it is not worthy of Kold. Lead me to the basement so I do not sin.”

Just as I spoke those words, my sandaled foot caught into a broken tile and I opened my eyes as I felt myself falling forward. The bear-man caught me with some effort and I straightened and looked around, after all.

“Forgive me, Lord,” I muttered, laying my eyes on the insides of the building.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, for despite its outer appearance, the church was well-maintained and clean. The runes of Kold and the other gods graced the walls and ceiling, and images of the Shattering sat high above the altar. I felt my heart skip, seeing Ra’een in eternal combat with his brother the Angel Arbiter depicted with great craftsmanship across the entirety of the far wall.

I stood speechless there for a moment as rage and disappointment grasped at my heart.

“Why, Lord? Why all this?” I asked to the mostly empty church, my thunderous voice bouncing against the walls and low benches.

“Are you a man of the gods, Shieldfather?” Keldar asked after a long moment of silence.

“I am the shield of Ra’een, Keldar. I am his will and yet I am here in this world, wandering aimlessly.”

“If you’re here, it’s the will of the Gods.”

“Your words echo those of the Steelspeakers.”

“Wise men, I wager.”

I snorted into a laugh.

“Yes, Keldar. Wise men.”

I noticed Bleff rolling his eyes at our brotherly exchange. I scoffed at the goblin. What did he know of the gods, honor, and war? He was a coward. Perhaps a loyal one, but a coward no less.

“This way, man of the Gods,” the red wizard said.

I noticed her sweating quite a bit. She looked nervous, or possibly just eager. The fire in her veins made her skin almost pulsate.

I looked to Keldar and he nodded so we took to a tight side corridor and down a flight of stairs. I shuddered as the temperature dropped further. It took a lot of restraint not to shake among my newfound warband.

We came upon a small room filled with empty and broken jars, torn burlap sacks, and broken wooden crates. The stench was that of rotting food and foulness found in demon tides ripe with Blisterflingers and their rolling balls of foulflesh. Either that or Bleff’s breath.

A cellar door was cracked open to the right side of a crooked empty shelf.

“Here,” Keldar said, prying the doors open wide.

More words appeared before me.

DO YOU WISH TO ENTER: Underock Catacombs?

[YES] [NO]