Dungeon Floor Bosses – These are spawns captured from overpopulated worlds and are typically the leaders, queens, and/or most powerful from among the species. Rarely, and under specific circumstances, a dungeon boss is made from an intelligent spawn. These bosses are then altered to create a measurable threat to an adventuring party, acting as a gateway to the next level of challenge. This is to ensure adventurers are up to the task of a dungeon level. Before the introduction of the bosses, entire adventuring parties would often find themselves overwhelmed and perish.

* The Adventurer’s Guild Guidebook

It seemed to take all night but he finally arrived at the outskirts of the frontier town of Gravenport. Nash walked out of the blackness of the night and into the sickly yellow illumination of the magical lanterns that lined the cross streets of the small town. A pair of large beastmen, bulls by the looks of them, gave him dark looks as he passed them by, but otherwise left him alone. They seemed to be part of the town’s militia from their uniforms.

Nash paid them little heed. He was heading straight for the large building at the end of the road. A lewd illusion played above the door; a voluptuous woman with bat wings was bent over, wining, and blowing a kiss to all who passed by... over and over again.

Nash shook his head slowly before focusing on the door below a flashy sign that read ‘The Seductive Succubus’. It was a tavern-style door but nearly filled the entire doorway, letting out laughter, music, and the flicker of flames beyond. The party was still in full swing. Axes in hand, Nash let his body push the doors open and stepped inside.

The tavern area was large, with many tables strewn about and not one of them empty. Several small stages held dancing women and the patrons were mostly men. A satyr sat on a chair at a corner stage, the beastman playing the lute and singing a bawdy song for the tavern’s guests. Nash took in all these sights in a moment, but he was here for a reason.

His head on a swivel, it only took Nash another moment to spot the guilty parties. A group of fellow adventurers were sitting around a long rectangular table made from unfinished oak. The six men looked like a rough lot. They were all unkempt and unwashed from the road. Those facts alone meant little to Nash.

However, the biggest guy had his back to the door and was wearing the same armor, boots, and cloak that Nash had just had stolen from him. If that weren’t proof enough, he also saw a newly enslaved Tamsyn being forced to dance on the table for them. The poor nixie looked miserable. The men were all leering at her body and laughing at her torment. Nash had seen enough.

Many of the patrons within the tavern were watching Nash closely, not used to other guests walking around with weapons hanging at the ready. The fact that he was bare-chested, well-muscled, and covered in war paint made them fidget nervously in their seats. The dried blood he had splattered across his body also didn’t help to calm their nerves.

Nash didn’t care and didn’t have the time nor inclination to pontificate. He strode straight to the table surrounded by the men who had robbed and murdered him and planted Darkward into the top of the supposed leader’s head. Surprising even Nash, the man was dead before he knew what had happened. Nash reasoned that the man’s level was much lower than he probably made it out to be for his gang of thugs. Leaders didn’t have to be powerful if they could seem powerful.

“What’d you go and do that for?” hollered one of the men across the table from Nash and the now-dead man wearing Nash’s stuff.

“He already took all my armor,” replied Nash, giving everyone at the table a nasty grin. “So, I figured I’d give him my ax too. How about the rest of you? Any of you want my other ax?”

All of the men shook their heads vigorously, eyes wide with fear. Nash looked each one in the eye. No one else in the tavern had moved to interfere. Finally, Nash’s eyes stopped on Tamsyn. He hadn’t been able to tell from the doorway, but now that he was closer, his blood began to boil. They had made her strip. Pulling his former cloak free from the dead man, Nash wrapped it around Tamsyn.

“Too bad,” he growled, Dark Rage activating subconsciously.

Nashe pulled Darkward free, and leaped atop the table, straddling the bundled nixie. By the time Nash had buried each of his axes into the faces of two of the men still seated around the table, the others took the hint and turned to run. Only one was closer to the door than Nash, so he killed him first. Turning back to the last two men, Nash saw that they were cornered. Beyond feeling sorry for them or guilty about what he was doing, Nash’s axes claimed two more victims.

Stolen story; please report.

Once the last of the gang had fallen, Nash scanned the room once more. Everyone was finding either the floor or their drinks incredibly interesting. The room was silent, save for the occasional sniffle or cough.

“Where’s the Sheriff of this town?” asked Nash, starting to calm down.

A few of the patrons looked at him in fear and confusion. Rolling his eyes, Nash pointed Moonglow at the satyr with the lute.

“You,” said Nash.

“Um, I guess you are,” stammered the satyr.

“What?” asked Nash, annoyance clear in his question.

“The big guy there was the Sheriff,” answered the satyr. “Now that you’ve defeated him, regardless of how, you are the Sheriff.”

“Is that so?” asked Nash, the rhetorical question more for himself than the satyr.

The beastman merely bobbed his head, his eyes still wide with fright.

“Relax,” said Nash, speaking directly to the satyr before addressing the rest of the tavern’s occupants in a much louder voice. “Unless any of you have robbed or attacked me lately, you have nothing to fear from me. Carry on.”

Nash didn’t wait for his words to sink in. He stepped down from the table and spoke into the bundled cloak. “Tamsyn, are you okay?”

“Yeah...*sniff*...I guess that I am now,” she said.

“Good, now... can I free you again?” asked Nash.

“Not without the focus,” she replied, her voice quivering from her ordeal.

“Right,” said Nash, quickly selecting the button to ‘loot all’.

Flaming Spear – Two-handed weapon

Necrotic Plate – Torso – Heavy Armor

Eye of Galosh – Ornament – 2 of 3 of the Dark Seer Set

Sheriff’s Badge – Ornament

Gem of Enslavement – t$532 - Trinket

Sinburner Cloak – Back – Light Armor

Blackened Wyrmsteel Legguards – Legs – Heavy Armor

Boots of Entrenchment – Feet – Medium Armor

Panther Golem: Black marble – Mount

Iron Marks: 3,124

Nash was surprised at the money. One or more of them must have pulled it out for some reason, probably gambling. Seeing the Gem of Enslavement in his inventory, Nash felt a twinge of revulsion creep up his spine. The odd letters reminded Nash of cyphertext from his old world. It wasn’t worth thinking about now.

Remembering the words he had used to release her before, Nash repeated them. Nash heard the sound of the nixie’s manacles bursting into dust, noticing a moment later that the gem was no longer in his inventory. Relief flooded his body. Detesting slavery, he wanted no part of it. That gave him an idea.

“Alright, listen up,” said Nash, equipping the Sheriff’s badge. “From this day forward, Gravenport is slavery-free....”

“You can’t do that!” yelled the barkeep. A low murmuring and grumbling from the patrons told Nash that his proclamation wasn’t popular. Nash didn’t care.

“I can, and I will,” announced Nash, projecting his voice so that everyone heard. “If you don’t like it, then you have two choices. One, you leave town. Two, step up and take a shot at becoming the new Sheriff.”

Nash scanned the crowd but didn’t have any takers. They apparently had better things to do than become the new Sheriff. Or maybe they weren’t so confident in their abilities to depose the current one. Even the barkeep went about his business, wiping the bar down and muttering to himself.

“Well, partner,” said Tamsyn, dressed again. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a new Sheriff in town.”

“Funny,” Nash flatly replied. “Now what?”

“Well,” said the nixie. “Why don’t we find you a helmet or something. I don’t want you getting cold-cocked again. That didn’t work out for either of us.”

“Agreed,” replied Nash. “First thing in the morning. For now, I’m gonna help dispose of the bodies and then get a room for the night.”

With the help of a couple of ‘deputized’ patrons, Nash removed the bodies and brought them to the town’s gravedigger. Apologizing for the late hour, Nash plunked a sack full of iron marks down in front of the half-asleep ogre. Looking down at Nash with a scowl, he quickly changed his demeanor once he saw all the coins. They shook and Nash returned to the tavern and bought a room, paying the tavernkeeper extra for the damage and disruption. He didn’t feel like making enemies if he didn’t have to. Besides that, Nash thought that Edgar the tavernkeeper seemed a likable fellow.

Trudging up the tavern’s stairs to the second level, Nash quickly found his room and threw the door open. Looking around for any unpleasant surprises, he stepped inside with Tamsyn fluttering in right behind him. Nash gave her a look but was too tired to argue. She just smiled and winked at him.

The room itself was plain but clean. It had a table and chair, wall hooks for outerwear, and a big bed with a couple of pillows in the middle of the room. A lantern sat on a nightstand for when there wasn’t enough light streaming through the one window in the room.

Locking the door and checking the rest of the room, he finished by sending his armor and weapons to inventory and falling onto the bed. After the long and grueling day and most of a night, Nash was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.