Right after he got dinner and a good night's sleep that is.
When Ambrose came down for food the tavern was more packed than it had been the previous nights, though the reason was clear as slabs of beautifully grilled meat were placed in front of customer after customer. Evidently the town had heard that something other than fish was on the menu, dragging those who would usually cook their own fish and vegetable meals out to spend their money.
It was a lively evening with all hands on deck, there were even a couple town members playing music, bringing more and more people out to see what all the commotion was. Eventually the tavern wasn’t big enough to support all who came by, spilling the impromptu event outside as the town had a celebration for the sake of celebrating.
Ambrose got in the swing of things as well, with word eventually coming out that he had been the discoverer of this ‘new’ untapped meat source, he was forced to dance with many who wished to celebrate with him. Arm wrestling competitions began to break out, with Ambrose faring quite well, though all fell to the might of Whesker the bestial giant.
At some point Luce approached a tired Ambrose, who had separated himself to get some air and was enjoying simply watching the festivities unfold. She had clearly stolen more than one drink as the young woman tottered over with bright rosy cheeks and a slur in her words.
“You know Ambrose, you are pretty cool, I’m pretty cooler. We should go out sometime.”
Ambrose was unsure of what to do, not being well versed in being asked out by anyone, he wasn’t sure of the best way to let the girl down.
“Tell you what Luce, let's come back to it when you are actually old enough to drink, or preferably in like a decade.”
The drunken Luce pouted and glared at Ambrose, before throwing up in his general direction. The two drinks he could get on his own weren’t enough to drop his guard so he was able to push off the wall and avoid the projectile.
“Alright Luce I think that's enough excitement for one day, let's get you home okay.”
“Shmokay”
The night grew long and the festivities began to die down. Ambrose had laughed, drunk, and danced with most of the town at this point, and was surprisingly happy. He slept soundly that night, though this peace wouldn’t last long.
The morning had long begun before Ambrose had arisen, when he eventually woke, breakfast was waiting for him, alongside a well scolded and hungover Luce, who hopefully didn’t remember the night prior.
The group ate in relative silence, though Jobe did warn Ambrose that they had gone through some of one of the prepared barrels of meat to be able to supply last night's festivities, so he would need to bring back another couple of Loobins if possible. But he would get more of the cut from this shipment to makeup for the extra risk and inconvenience.
Rested and fed, Ambrose returned to the dungeon, forgoing his morning training. It was time for a miniature war against the Loobin camp.
He had brought his backpack this time, rather than the body transport bag, after all he anticipated lots of loot from the camp, particularly within the primary tent where they all seemed to deposit anything of value. He had also harvested the entirety of the flower patch belonging to the sheep he and the Loobin hunters had killed yesterday, filling the bag halfway with seeds after working out that the flowers themselves were not nearly as filled with the drug thanks to his new Herbalism Skill.
Setting the bag off to the side, Ambrose carried only what he needed for his plan, his weapon, his air bag a covered Prism who was to come out only once he been discovered, a small gathering of tinder and flint ready to light with a spark, and of course his creation that made this solo raid all possible.
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Rage Bomb (Uncommon)
A ball created from Loobin skin to hold powder, once lit the powder begins creating smoke that intoxicates those who consume it.
Durability: Fragile
Quality: Poor
Properties: Narcotic (Consuming the smoke created will grant temporary pain resistance and increases Strength of Body, but comes with reduced Strength of Mind and addicting properties.)
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Ambrose had created the rage bomb shell by using the plentiful amounts of Loobin skin he had gained the day before. The skin was rubbery and extremely stretchy, Ambrose had worked out that by cutting a small amount out, he could tie it up in a way that it would resemble a water poorly shaped balloon. The idea is that he would fill the balloon with the Somniferum powder which he could light before pulling the string holding it together taut, tying the top of the bomb closed. It would then stretch as the smoke grew in volume until it would pop, billowing the smoke out in all directions.
It had taken several attempts to create a version that would be air tight enough to do what he needed, each attempt giving him a better idea of how to improve it. Once he had finished the first version fully, he had gained the Bomb Making Skill and a trash rated bomb, forcing him to remake it until getting a poor rated bomb, which he believed would be enough to work.
He had many ideas to improve the design once he had the tools to do so. Making the powder fine enough that it would become dust, when combined with a fuse should allow him to create a version that could be set up quick and would go off when thrown, the powder being agitated by the throw and landing would in theory make it into a cloud of dust causing a minor explosion followed by the problematic smoke. Creating more permanent and shatter able vessels, fuses, better shaped vessels, sewn together rather than haphazardly tied together, were all things he had thought about to improve the quality.
He knew from his conversations with the Enrick’s that the quality of an item changed how effective it was from its base. The base was determined from the rarity of the item, any rank below normal reduced the effects down heavily, his poor ranked bomb was effectively as strong as a common item, meaning the smoke cloud would be contained to a small area, the effect that the smoke itself had was unlikely to be affected by the quality of the bomb and rather the powder inside, which had been of subpar quality, meaning it was only somewhat reduced from what he had tested. His original trash quality bomb would be considered a trash rank item which would likely cause it to misfire somehow.
He had been sitting waiting for a large group of Loobins to return for several minutes, wanting to hit as much of the camp at once, if he was lucky they would arrive before another group headed out allowing to finish the whole camp. When he saw them approaching, he visually went through the camp for a fourth time, scanning each Loobin he could see, finding the strongest of the group and marking them in his mind to be the first deaths. Lastly he checked the air bag he had created, it was just another balloon of Loobin skin that he had filled with air, it had an overhang that he placed over his mouth, untying the string holding the air a small amount allowing him to breath as air slowly escaped. The item wasn’t good enough to even count as an official item just yet, and had been made with his Improvised Crafting Skill, its goal was to just reduce the amount of smoke he inhaled, not needing to be a proper gas mask, at least not yet.
The group headed inwards, bringing pouches of food over to the central pile. Ambrose quickly lit his fire starter bundle and dropped it into the rage bomb, and pulled the string, trapping the smoke inside as he starting the process. He had positioned himself uphill from the camp, and when the group reached the centre and started placing their offerings, Ambrose leapt into action.
He flexed his Skulk ability to its maximum getting as close as possible while the camp of Loobins were distracted, as they all turned to look over what the returning group had brought. He of course wouldn’t make it all the way into the camp as not all could see the pile from their location and weren't as distracted, but it was enough to get him within throwing range.
The rage bomb had been growing larger and larger as he had been approaching, stretching from the original size of a large misshapen softball to the size of a beach ball over only a minute, the agitation from Ambrose moving about only speeding up the process.
It was as the first Loobins spotted him and screeched at the intruder, drawing the attention of the others, that Ambrose threw the fleshy bomb at the camp. The ball was heading straight for screeching Loobins face. The ball popped as the Loobin, seeing something coming at it, instinctively struck out with its tongue to destroy or deflect the projectile. The skin stuck to the tongue as the ball continued travelling, wrapping over the Loobins tongue as the back side popped when the tongue pierced out. Smoke and still burning powder instantly billowed out over the camp.
Ambrose smiled under mask as the first part worked, the Loobins now screeched in fear, growing worse by the moment as the smoke found its way into their mouths as their core tried to pull in more air to assist powering the Loobins continued survival.
Ambrose flitted in, smoke only aiding in breaking line of sight and maintaining his stealth advantage as he moved from target to target, the wheezing sound of Loobins collapsing from a core rupture was all that he left in his wake. This process wasn’t as clean as it looked from the outside, as Ambrose repeatedly stumbled into creatures, tents, and scattered pouches of food, popping his head up above the majority of the smoke to determine his location and compare it to where he remembered the Loobins being, before dropping down and crouch walking over to them while trying his best to not trip, before stabbing repeatedly until he heard the magic blue smoke that made Loobins work hiss out of their bodies, a clear sound of victory.
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The camp was quickly overflowed with the smoke, many of the Loobins too short to see over the cloud clearly panicked, attacking whatever they ran into only making things more dangerous for Ambrose, but prevented most from fleeing as they froze in place lashing out towards any noises that approached.
He had quickly managed to kill ten of the Loobins that had been grouped at the food pile when things took a turn. A much louder, angrier yell echoed through the smoke, originating from within the large central tent.
A creature that only slightly resembled the Loobins stumbled out of the tent, rage filling its features. The creature was taller than its compatriots, coming up to Ambrose’s shoulders as its small black, but forward facing eyes, squinted against the light, searching the smoke angrily. Unlike the Loobins, this new creature wore clothing. As to what the clothing actually was, Ambrose wasn’t sure, it seemed to be a cross between armour and pyjamas but also included a cape. All of it was thrown together with strips of hide holding the wool of a dungeonese sheep to the body of this new creature, the end result looked like a large child wrapped up in pillows with its arms, feet, and head poking out. It was holding a club made from scraps of metal, partially melted into a large awkwardly shaped mass. Finally, a similarly shoddy looking crown sat upon its head, made from only the shiniest metals and stones that poked out at all angles.
Ambrose met the eyes of a creature as a manic smile overcame his face, the loot was better than expected.
“Miniboss.”
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The Ousted King (Dungeon, Elite), Greater Level
Once the king of the dungeon's castle, this formerly proud Gabrawl lost everything when the dungeon’s decay destroyed his castle. Without his Seat of Power he was ousted by his general and now spends his days leading the largest group of Loobins, the creatures it once treated as cattle.
* Strength of Body: Higher
* Speed of Body: Lower
* Strength of Mind: Comparable
* Speed of Mind: Comparable
* Strength of Soul: Comparable
* Speed of Soul: Comparable
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Fighting the king was a bad idea, it was likely meant to be taken on by a full party of people at Ambrose’s level. But what did he care, beating it would give him the resources needed to buy everything he needed to beat the rest of the dungeon and escape the island, or potentially even buy it if that was what he wanted.
Despite being tall enough to see over the smoke, the creature struggled to see Ambrose, squinting as it came out of the tent and into the artificial sunlight of the dungeon. Ambrose made note of this, knowing he would need all of the advantages he could get.
“Prism, hover above and just behind my head.”
Prism didn’t respond but repositioned themselves to the specified spot.
Madness tinged Ambrose’s voice slightly as he raised it so that the whole camp would hear. “Alrighty. Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. Loobins and Losers. Welcome, welcome, welcome. For tonight’s entertainment, I present to you. The death of the king”.
The king and the Loobins both turned to the source of the current chaos, as Ambrose stood tall a cocky smile intentionally placed on his face. Only the king could see him clearly over the still billowing smoke, but the remaining Loobins each screeched and moved towards the voice.
With their resistance to emotional damage turned from meagre to non-existent, it was simple to turn the Loobins from fear to rage, their Strength of Mind now low enough to affect their spatial reasoning and making them easily confused.
The king was meant to be fought by a party of creatures around Ambrose’s level? Well who was he to go against that convention.
“Well I mean, it would be the death of the king if I could actually find one, all I see here is some weak little kid playing dress up.”
Ambrose hadn’t been sure of whether the creatures could actually understand him, and he still wasn’t sure if the Loobins could. The king certainly seemed to. Ambrose's little used Speech Skill combined with the mental loosening of the Rage Bomb, bombarding the king with emotional damage intending to infuriate. It was as if a dam burst in the king's mind as his features twisted as he screamed with rage as he stopped standing on the edge of the tent, and finally began to move on Ambrose.
Now all parties were stumbling towards the same location, the still unarmoured Ambrose armed only with his dagger. Focusing on the sounds around him to get a gist of where the Loobins were, he stood waiting nonchalantly, ready to meet the charge of the pudgy creature who would call himself king.
Or at least that was what he had wanted the king to think. As the creature pushed through the smoke screaming, Ambrose simply dropped down and rolled forward when the king raised its club for a brutal overhead swing. As the king stepped forward his foot met with Ambrose’s back as he rolled forward into the king who tripped over him, the heavy weapon swinging at thin air with empowered strength quickly pulled the king to the ground, burying the club into the dirt.
Ambrose moved in the direction of the least noise, as the king continued to scream incoherently, struggling to dislodge the weapon.
“You. Will. Die. Human” The king spat out in a gravelly voice, the words stilted, heavily accented, and garbled in a way that resembled choking, as if the creature had not spoken in many decades, and had forgotten how to.
One of the Loobins, blinded by rage and lost in the smoke, continued through the camp, tripping over its companions, tents, and food in the process, but finally it was in range, reaching the location the interloper had announced itself, it was now screaming and grunting, perhaps some of the others had already caused it wounds? Emboldened by the belief that its opponent was falling, the Loobin struck out towards the sound with its tongue. The tongue pierced into Dungeonese Sheep wool but was unable to pierce through and into the flesh below.
The King was not going to fall to such a weak creature as a human, many had come to claim his throne in the years now long ago, though none had succeeded in many an age. He was blessed, one of the few to remember his previous incarnations, and while this current vessel was limited in the Attributes due to the dungeon's demise, it still had its mind. A weakling could never overcome him, even in this form. He tried to inform it of its mistake in coming here, finding it difficult to speak after so long.
As he recovered his Royal Sceptre from the ground, the human, clearly intimidated by his power of speech, attempted a strike but was unable to pierce the royal garments. He whipped around, grabbed the opponent with a clawed hand and pulled him forwards with all his might, into his now raised weapon.
The Loobin’s head connected with the club as the king pulled forward, the force behind the pull, mixed with the jagged surface of the club, piercing through the rubbery skin and splattering the poor Loobin's head like an overripe watermelon.
The king laughed, he had already won. It wasn’t even a strike, he had simply pulled the human into his club where it had exploded, covering him in victorious blood. He went to screech at the Loobins in their simplistic way of communication to reassert dominance and calm, but was interrupted as a second strike hit him, then another, then another.
He yelled in confusion and rage, struggling to see the human through the smoke, only ever managing to see his flock of Loobins, his clouded mind unable to figure out the truth of the matter.
Meanwhile, Ambrose sat outside the smoke cloud, Prism currently stowed in his pouch, keeping the main tent between him and the ongoing conflict so that the king could never spot him. He had taken several grazing blows as Loobins had blindly clawed him during his exit, losing his bag of air in the process, preventing him from entering in again until it the smoke had dropped enough. The tent grew as the smoke shrunk, it was spreading out across the valley and pushed away in great gusts where the king swung his club at his own followers. Ambrose was forced to will his notification glass to appear, only life threatening messages would appear in combat after he had changed his settings.
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CONGRATULATIONS OUTWORLDER, YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 8
3 Attribute points have been gained.
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While glad for the gain as it had helped keep his wounds from bleeding, the level was unfortunately not that useful, as he was forced to increase both his Soul Attributes, still unaware of their effects. The last point however went into Strength of Mind, further bolstering his emotional resistance and staving off the effects of the smoke that had seeped into his body through his wounds and through his gasps of pain while getting out.
Only a minute later the fighting had stopped, ended with a sudden meaty thwack as the last of the Loobins was splattered across the camp. The smoke cloud was down to Ambrose's waist at this point, no longer enough to hide in, he moved around the tent as Prism once again took her place floating above him, he no longer needed to fake the smile.
The king screamed in anger, his flock had turned against him, plotting with this human to overthrow him just like he had been in the old days. He searched around the lowered smoke the traitors had used as cover, hunting for the only opponent that still escaped him. The filthy human had made a mistake though, the king was a special creature and consumption made him stronger, the smoke made him so much stronger than anything else he had consumed. He wanted more but the traitor's cover had begun to flee like its master should have, he bent over and heaved in large breaths, feeling his wounds being reduced by the breath as his strength and desire for blood only increased, he dropped his Royal Sceptre, it was only slowing him from being able to chase down the empowering smoke.
Ambrose peered around the corner to find the king bent over, dripping with blood from numerous wounds and breathing heavily from the clear exhaustion. He chased the dissipating smoke trying to consume it all, the addiction Ambrose had been warned of clearly having taken its mind.
Ambrose approached the king's forgotten weapon, it was too heavy for him to wield as a weapon himself, but not to such a degree that he couldn’t carry it. He moved towards the king, the cape of his haphazard clothing trailing along the ground behind him, covered in blood of king and kin.
The king paid him no mind, his steps quieter than the creature's gasping inhales. Ambrose awkwardly tossed the blocky club towards the king's legs. The king collapsed to his knees as the heavy weapon slammed into the back of his legs, it caught on the cape choking the king as his head was wrenched backwards. Ambrose reached around the king's clawing hands and plunged the dagger into its throat and twisted before viciously ripping it out. Blood spurted out of the gaping wound as the king managed to cut the hide which was keeping the top of his armoured clothing, and attached cape, tied to the rest of the horrendous outfit.
Blood ran down the now top naked Gabrawl from its many small wounds. Ambrose retreated to a safe distance as the creature reached for its weapon and swung wildly. Intelligence no longer filled its eyes as it charged Ambrose. The young Outworlder was for the first time in his life on Eramen, completely faster than an opposing creature, though if a single of the wide swinging blows fully connected, he would end up just like the Loobins.
The king wasn’t slowing down and Ambrose couldn’t think of leaving, as his vision and thoughts tunnelled onto killing this creature not because of the smoke, but out of simple desire and greed. He wanted to be the one to kill this thing, he didn’t want to simply sit back passively as it bled out, dying once the drug had run its course. He wanted to prove himself, to show the asshole that brought him here, to prove that he wasn’t as worthless and cowardly as the chauvinistic god had thought.
Wanting to create an opening, Ambrose threw his dagger towards the king, his aim was true but the king didn’t care, swiping the dagger from the air. The king bared its teeth as blood and air bubbled out its throat as it attempted once more to growl at Ambrose. The king rushed forward, its opponent tiring and unarmed.
As the king closed, Ambrose didn’t run away, he didn’t dive to get out of range before the strike could get close, that would mean he wasn’t in range of striking back. Instead he reached up and backwards, grabbing Prism as he sidestepped the incoming blow. The wind kicked up by the large weapon whistled past Ambrose’s determined face as he came a mere inch from certain death. He struck back just as the weapon cleared him, slamming Prism into the bridge of the king's nose with both hands. The king dropped his weapon, blinded by the blow and Prism’s light blaring in his light sensitive eyes, and instead began to claw at Ambrose. Ambrose released Prism, she wasn’t a good enough weapon and reached for the only other one he could wield.
He stepped into the king, body checking him, but taking a heavy blow to his chest in the process while stopping the king from being able to properly swing or go for his more vulnerable neck. Ambrose grasped for the crown, wrapping his hand around it and yanking upwards. He began to slam the crown against the king's skull, the jagged mass of metal and jewels bludgeoning the king while tearing at both of their skin.
Blood poured from Ambrose’s hand and chest as the king collapsed, Ambrose dropped to his knees straddling the king, still slamming the crown into the king's face. Teeth and bone was shattered as Ambrose’s flesh was ripped to shreds, only stopping once the king finally went limp, and Ambrose’s body was suffused with energy.
He had won, and he had hit level ten in the process.