Damaia wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected at the bottom of the seemingly endless ramp. Dungeons were weird, after all. It could be a monster, tunnel back up, some sort of treasure chest, or even the dungeon’s core!
What Valorous actually found, though, defied all her expectations.
The room they’d found at the end of the hatefully long spiral wasn’t necessarily small, but there was hardly any room to stand with the mountains of equipment that practically lined the walls. Behind a battered counter in the midst of the valuable clutter, stood a person.
“Welcome,” The dark haired woman said loudly, spreading her arms wide, “to Deena’s Dungeon Emporium! We have everything you could ever need to make your dungeon destroying dreams come true!”
Damaia immediately went to inspect the potions, doing her best to keep her smile intact as her mind raced.
“Any of these potions let you walk through walls?”
The shopkeeper's smile fell slightly. “No,” she said sadly. “That’s on the list, but out of stock. Would you like to be put on the waiting list?”
“No, that’s fine. Anything to make us stronger?”
“Same problem, I’m afraid,” the merchant said with a shake of her head. “Those things are tough to get ahold of. Deliveries don’t come often down here.”
“Right,” Lucas replied dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”
Jubel cleared his throat, approaching the table. “I’m looking for something in particular. Any chance that there’s an old sword hilt amongst your wares?”
Deena looked around, rummaging through the nearest pile. “Swords, daggers, an old axe blade, half a spear…. No, no hilt here. Not on its own, anyway.”
Jubel shot Lucas a meaningful glance as he replied. “That’s strange. I could’ve sworn it was here.”
The shopkeep froze for a moment before chuckling. “Yeah, well, it might’ve been here once, and already got sold. I get a lot of customers -”
“Bullshit.”
Deena scowled. “Excuse you?”
“Bullshit,” Lucas repeated. “No way you’ve ever had customers down here. We’re the first team to make it this far.”
“I’ve run other shops in the past, you know!” The merchant snapped. “And you’re by far the rudest customers I’ve ever had!”
“Ignore him,” Damaia said when Lucas tried to open his mouth to respond. “It’s been 3 hours since his last cup of coffee, so he’s cranky.”
“How addicted to caffeine do you think I am?!” The lycanthrope asked indignantly.
Damaia ignored him, putting a small cylinder on the counter. “Could we trade this for something?” she asked excitedly.
The shopkeeper smiled. “I collect all sorts of stuff, so probably. What is it?”
“An explosive.”
There was a small click sound as Damaia pressed a button on the top of the device, and everyone froze.
“An armed explosive. On a timer. I’d like some information please.”
“What the hell are you doing?!” Deena shrieked, looking frantically around the room.
“Intimidating you,” the felblood said cheerfully. “I’ve been practicing! Normally I wouldn’t do this, but you’re way too suspicious. You expected us to believe that you have a shop in a dungeon that only opened up recently? At the end of a trap filled spiral of hate that took us an hour to walk down - which would make it several miles long! - which was itself guarded by skeletons you in no way could’ve snuck past? And not only did you think it was reasonable to say that you’d gotten this far, but that you then deliberately chose to set up in the worst possible location for a shop? You’re either both the luckiest and stupidest person I’ve ever met, or a shapeshifter who didn’t think their adventurer trap through very well.”
The shopkeeper lunged towards Damaia, their body shifting as they moved, but that, as it turned out, was a mistake. A small shockwave tore through the room as the engineer’s armor flared with heat and power, hurling the shapeshifting merchant into the far wall. Steam poured from the armor as the engineer stored the cylinder.
“You crazy bitch!” the merchant snarled, their voice distorting as they rose from the ground once more. Their skin had shifted to a sort of semi-transparent red goo, with a dark sphere roughly the size of a human head suspended within it. “I’ll kill you! Kill all of you! You’ll be sorry -”
A lance of pitch black magic slammed into their shoulder, interrupting their angry rant. “You were never going to fool us,” Jubel said coldly. “I can sense the hilt. Hand it over and answer our questions, and you might just get out of this in one piece.”
“Emphasis on might,” Lucas said as he shifted to his werewolf form.
“Fuck off!”
“Mistake,” Vivi said calmly a split second before the sound of thunder tore through the room. Lucas flinched as his improved hearing backfired, but whatever their crimson friend heard must’ve been far louder, because even through the ringing in his ears, he heard her shriek in pain as her form rippled. She lunged over the counter, one arm stretching unnaturally far to wrap itself around Damaia’s throat.
“You,” she hissed in a gurgling voice. “You die first.”
Vivi sent another sonic blast toward the slime woman, but this time, Deena saw it coming. Her body’s shape shifted, warping to align with Damaia’s to use the felblood as a shield. “You’re next, girlie,” the slime said in a voice that sounded halfway between her own and the engineer’s. The felblood gurgled in a panic as she felt her mind grow foggy and slow.
Then, she collapsed.
Jubel sent a crescent wave of black energy towards the slime, leaving a painful looking slice in the monster’s shoulder and eliciting a hiss from the creature, but failing to break her hold. Vivi dashed forwards, slicing through the arm around Damaia’s throat with her now shimmering rapier even as the last wound closed before her eyes.
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“I wouldn’t advise trying that again,” Damaia’s voice said through the slime’s lips as her unconscious body fell to the floor, making the elf freeze. “Making me mad will only extend your agony.”
Whatever Vivi might’ve wanted to say in response, she never had the chance. The twisted voice stealer flicked her newly regenerated wrist, bringing a black sword hilt to her hand. A blade of shimmering black energy emerged from the hilt, razor thin and wickedly sharp, as she swung towards the elf’s neck.
Jubel had no time to think. No time to plan. He saw a threat, and he reacted, an instinct he never knew he had kicking in as he raised one hand. “No!” He poured every ounce of the anger and panic he felt racing through his veins into that word, pulling at the strange force that slept within him and pleading that it would be enough.
The disk that Nihlus had given him suddenly emerged from his palm, shooting towards the imperiled bard faster than any arrow and intercepting the blade. For a moment, everyone froze, and silence filled the room.
Then the slime woman turned towards Jubel with naked greed in its alien gaze, still speaking in the felblood’s voice. “What an interesting tool.” With a flick of the blade, which now reflected a starlit sky in its inky depths, she sent the compass - no, the shield - back to his hand. “I simply can’t wait to add that to my collection.” Then, she charged him.
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Damaia was vaguely aware of the sounds of battle for the first few seconds, but as her racing mind slowed, she found herself adrift in a crimson void. Where was she? Why was she?
Who was she?
Then she heard a sound.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“I wanna go outside,” a child’s voice rang through the air. Was that… yes, that was her voice. “Papa, can’t I go back to the playground?”
“I know, sweetie,” a deep, somber voice replied. “I’m sorry. I have too much work to do to take you.”
“That’s what you said yesterday,” a younger man’s voice said, clearly irritated. “Let me take her.”
For a moment, only the ticking sound could be heard. Then…
“Garret, we’ve talked about this. You-”
“Can keep an eye on her just fine!” The teenager snapped as a shade of his nearly forgotten face suddenly emerging from the void. “Let her be a kid, old man! She can’t stay inside all day every day! It’s not healthy for -”
“Healthy?!” The first man’s voice was filled with a sudden fury. A slamming sound disrupted the ticking. “Is coming back bleeding healthy, Garret? Is it healthy to have rocks thrown at you?!”
“I won’t let anyone pick on her!” the teen insisted as the older man’s face appeared, now twisted into a mask of fear and anger. “I promise! I won’t take my eyes off her!”
“And what will you do to protect her?” The rage faded from the older face as the room in which they spoke slowly formed, her memories piecing things together bit by bit. “Will you beat children, boy? Kick them for daring to hurt your sister?” He shook his head sadly and returned to his workbench. “Just because they are not innocent does not make them guilty. They’re kids. Children, just like her.”
“Children can be cruel,” the boy pointed out. “Especially to other children. If you give them a free pass now, you’ll end up with a world full of adults who think they can get away with anything!”
“And did the beatings you received from the orphanage teach you anything?” There was only sorrow in Papa’s voice now. “Anything besides ‘violence is fine as long as you aren’t caught,’ I mean.”
“That was different,” the boy insisted hotly.
“Papa,” Damaia said in unison with her younger self, “Brother, please stop fighting. It’s ok. I’ll just stay home. I like reading and making things. It’s fine. Just stop yelling, please!”
Then the workshop was gone.
But the memories remained.
----------------------------------------
Silence filled the room as the engineer opened her eyes. Then the sound of battle resumed, but only briefly. It came and went in flashes, bringing a horrifying thought to the felblood’s mind; did she do something to damage my hearing? Is it permanent?!
But no, she realized as she weakly rolled over, that wasn’t it at all. When a blade strikes a shield, the sound of steel against steel fills the air. But when nothing tries to force its way through nothing, only silence can be heard. So it was that when the disk hovering in the air near Jubel intercepted the strange blade Deena swung at him, the sounds of battle simply ceased for a second as a peculiar un-sound rippled through the air.
Deena wasn’t gifted in swordplay, but her ability to move her limbs in impossible ways was more than enough to press the half elf into a corner. He tried to block one swipe with his own blade, but rather the magical weapon merely cut straight through the steel, slowing just enough for him to avoid being decapitated.
“How long can you keep this up, I wonder?” Deena said in a voice that sent a chill up Damaia’s spine. She twisted her boneless arms in a peculiar loop, trying to stab Jubel in the back, but the disk interposed itself between the half elf and the blade once more.
Then, it sank back into his skin.
“Apparently, that long,” Jubel admitted. “But not to worry - the fun’s only just begun!” He kicked off the wall behind him, leaping over the twisted ‘merchant’. She spun to face him, only to be wrapped in a painful bear hug by a 7 foot tall werewolf.
“I really didn’t want to do this,” Lucas growled as he sank his claws into the slime, forcibly pulling it away from Jubel.
“What, afraid of fighting a girl?” the slime woman taunted in the engineer’s voice. She stabbed through her own body to wound him, a small hole opening around the blade to prevent it from touching her.
“I’ll kick the ass of anyone who pisses me off - I’m a staunch supporter of true gender equality,” the werewolf replied dryly, ignoring the massive gash in his shoulder. “I just hate having to clean sludge out my fur… almost as much as I hate the headache I’m about to have.”
Before Deena could even respond, a flare of crimson lightning consumed the pair. Lucas staggered back, drained by the intensity of his own spell, but otherwise unharmed.
The slime wasn’t so fortunate. Deena shrieked in agony, her voice slowly returning to the way it had sounded before. “What is this?!” she demanded. “How - why?!”
“Blood magic,” Vivi said, her eyes widening. “She can’t handle being exposed to - LUCAS! She’s a lifeblood slime! Hit her as hard as you can! Your magic is disrupting the memories she stole!”
Deena’s eyes widened in horror, and she began screaming - this time in panic rather than pain. “No. No! Don’t! PLEASE!” She scrambled away from the fiercely snarling werewolf. “I’ll be good. I swear, I’ll be good! I won’t eat anyone ever again! I promise!”
“I’ve heard that sort of thing a lot,” the werewolf noted. “See, back in my time in the military, I had at least a dozen prisoners swear that they’d never pick up a weapon again if we’d just let them go. And I believed them, too.” He leaned in, patting the slime woman on the shoulder and whispering in her ear.
“I kept letting them go. Then, one night, half the people I’d so kindly released showed up in the middle of my camp. Each and every fucking one of them armed to the teeth.” Sparks began to fly from his fur. “I’ve gotten enough people killed by being soft, Deena. I’m sure you understand.”
The slime’s terror vanished in an instant. She leapt forward, twisting and compressing her form as she tried to force her way into his mouth and suffocate him.
Lucas didn’t even bother closing his mouth. Crimson energy poured from his maw as he howled.
An orb the color of freshly spilled blood fell to the ground as the liquid in which it had been suspended lost cohesion, landing next to the black hilt of what had once been an impossibly sharp sword. A dim light flickered within it as the slime woman’s dying shriek faded away.
“I don’t think I like dungeons,” Damaia said matter of factly from where she lay on the floor.
Jubel couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, even as he knelt down to grab their rewards.
“I can’t imagine why!” Vivi replied, failing to suppress a laugh of her own.
“The way you sound, you’d think it just tried to kill you or something,” Lucas added with a chuckle as he returned to his human form.
Damaia chuckled weakly along with them, as the absurdity of their situation slowly pierced through the lingering haze over her thoughts. “You know what I would like?” she said as she slowly rose to her feet. “Some tea, some cookies, and a chance to cuddle Izzy. Let’s get out of here!”
The others looked at her in bewilderment as she dragged herself over to Jubel and placed one hand on the dark red orb, but before anyone could ask how they were supposed to do that -
They were gone.