Dungeon Keeper (LitRPG/Monster Evolve)

[Chaperone]

Little disturbed the water's surface. Moss paddled across the inky mirror with an eerie silence as company. And the Doul. Its tiny candle allowed him to see barely three keepers out.
He hugged the shore, saying nothing to his mute companion so as not to attract the attention of any hungry MonarchWorms. Especially as the blue pollen was a part of his cloak now. Even scrubbing with a rough bone and water couldn't wash it off.
As they drifted along, Moss noticed a dull twinkling beneath him. He leaned down to get a closer look letting his boat drift. As the ripples died a star scape revealed itself.
Thousands of lights danced in the depths. Nestling on the riverbed in a murky jade that reminded him of the Graveyard's sky. Except these moved and flowed with the water. A festival played out before him, filling him with a sense of wonder. Only Pools could produce such beauty in a dismal place like this. He thanked her for sharing a moment like this with him, even if he had merely chanced upon it.
The lights slowly faded away. Leaving him staring at the reflection of his stitchless cloak, his thin cloth and stumpy claws. He felt disconnected from the dungeon, lost in its darkness. How am I supposed to stand up against the Supreme? What if she has me killed on the spot?
Moss sat back, thinking he should focus on the present and its more immediate dangers. Where's the shoreline gone?
With a hint of desperation, he pumped the paddle towards the festival..
But he couldn't find any lights, not even a hint.
A strange coldness brushed his face.
He turned to find the Doul poking him and shaking his head with the pace of a FortSnail.
"Well which way is it?"
It didn't answer. But the river did. Gripping them with a current.
The river was moving and pulling the boat. A turbulent gurgling came from the darkness ahead. Growing louder and more violent with each flicker.
"Pools! Save us!" Moss yelled. "I'm sorry for doubting you!"
Paddling with all his might. He looked over his shoulder as the waterfall revealed itself. It drank the waters like a greedy dragon. Chugging away as the keeper's tiny arms tried to resist it. Desperate, he looked for an escape and spotted a purple rune. It was huge and engraved into a black totem that protruded from a rocky bank. Moss rowed towards it with all his might. The bone paddle had activated his CorpseCarrier ability. Allowing the weak monster to fight the force of the current with improved strength.
The keeper praised himself for making the right choice when his breath grew heavy. His arms sagged.
Stamina wasn't the keeper's strong point, yet he had the determination to force the bank closer. Each stroke brought him within claw distance. He could almost touch-
Crack.
The paddle hit a rock and snapped. Its end was whisked away immediately, leaving Moss with the handle and no hope. His claws sank into Fangor's body as the torrent flung them over. He screamed into the Doul's face, seeing a reflection of his own terror in its warped eyes.
The boat flipped. Cold water soaking and blinding him.
Then light. Overwhelmingly bright after their time in the bleak Passage.
A kaleidoscope of greeny brown smothered his vision as he struggled to open his eyes. Then impact. Back into a watery doom. No barrel this time. No body boat within his grasp. The keeper was rolled and tussled. And just as Death pursed her lips for his last kiss. He was spat out and onto dry land.
Sweet, beautiful land. I'll never leave you again.
Exhausted, he passed out.


Moss awoke in a groggy state. His Doul remained perched on his shoulder. Seemingly mocking his sleepy demeanour with a crazy grin - Or was that just his imagination.
They were in the Watcher's Woods. Now he knew where the Infinite Falls got its water from. Having almost drowned several times in it, the keeper was done. His boat, that was Fangor, was also washed up close by. He wobbled over to the gnoll's remains and remoulded it back into a ball.
His abilities were increasing nicely. It didn't take long to manipulate the dead remains thanks to his improved VenomClaw. As he worked, Moss felt a chill in his cloak. The keeper scanned the mists. Feeling exposed. Feeling watched.
It's just exhaustion, not maddness.
Every dweller knew not to stare into the mists.
Just watch your feet while Pool watches your back.
That old saying didn't feel as reassuring as normal. But Moss followed the advice while rolling Fangor to the floor's entrance to deposit him into a well. With the fatigue kicking in he decided rest was a priority, and not the liquid potion type, but an actual bed. He always felt terrible after a vial of the green stuff wore off.
Plus 4 scrips added.
Wendy told Moss as he wobbled to the Village's hidden pulley system. Tugging on a series of ropes that activated the weighted mechanism and flung him upwards into the misty canopy.
The settlement among the great trees bustled with dwellers. The main bazaar in the whole dungeon offered almost any item or service a monster could afford. Though most spent their scrips in the Quarter - where enhancing stimulants were sold at a reduced price - not all had access.
Moss wasn't used to being awake at this time. In fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. He weaved through the loud crowd of creatures. Trying not to get stepped on and already dreaming of his bedroll. He skirted two young HowlerBears having a chuckle to each other.
"I heard raiders got in and put holy water in the kegs." One said.
The other scoffed. "Nah my mate was there, said as he heard the bells go off. Then Hell's ghost rose out the stage and slaughtered them all. That's why so many went missing."
"How'd your mate get out then?"
"Stood perfectly still, ghosts can't see movement."
"Course, basics. I'm glad it went to shit, my brother's stall has been heaving for shifts now."
For shifts? How long was I asleep?
Moss started to rush, getting beyond the stalls, away from the noise and into the keepers' Grotto. The mounds were dark, their residents slumbering.
He found his hovel, the front door left open to welcome him home.
That's nice of them to think of me. Moss crept in and collapsed on the floor, too tired to climb into his bedroll. The meagre light of the Doul's candle didn't even phase him.
Events played out in his mind. So much was happening so fast to the little keeper that he couldn't keep up. He just wanted to do a normal shift, go back to routine and not have to dodge death at every turn. The fatigue was awful, but it also smothered his anxious mind.
I'll find Tink and the others tomorrow after work. Introduce them to Rene. I'm sure he'd-
Ombay's roar brought the howling winds and a flurry of parchment. Fresh from the Herald of Truth.
It swept into the hovel, rolling Moss into the wall.
"Holy Pools!" He yelled, snapping awake.
Franc's head poked out from his nook. "Moss? You're alive-" His red eyes grew. "Is that FairyDust?"
A pink tongue flicked out another bunk and licked Moss's shoulder, right where the Doul sat. It screamed in horror, but remained.
"Nah, not sure what it is?" Dill said.
"Hey, I thought Stew was taking that bunk." Moss said to him.
"We haven't seen him since..." Dill motioned to the state of the hovel.
It was trashed. Light streamed through grooves in the wall. Fabric and rubbish were piled beneath the white parchment. The bunks had been destroyed and licked back together. And the front door hadn't been left open for him - it was missing completely.
"What in the Hells happened here?" Moss asked.
They shrugged and started climbing out of bed. Franc passed Dill an ebony to crush up with the last few nuggets of LowGrade herb he had left.
"Are none of you even a little concerned your home was trashed?" Moss asked, perplexed by their casual reactions. "We're keepers for Pools sake. Why would anyone do this?"
Franc shook his head. "It's simple, dwellers hate us."
"Dwellers don't hate us, they would have to notice us first." Moss pointed out.
"True. But keepers hate other keepers. Maybe it's one of the blue cloths."
"Holy shit!" Dill jumped up. "It's fucking Stewy going after Moss. It all makes sense."
"No, Stew loved his job more than he hated me. He wouldn't risk it. But maybe he was here when it happened."
"There wasn't any blood. Not a drop." Franc said. "He's just missing."
"Probably dancing in the mists with Pittons and your cousin Twig." Dill giggled.
"That's not funny." Moss snapped. "We know Pittons has a few loose stitches, he could actually be lost out there. Has anyone looked for him?"
"The dungeons got him now." Franc claimed. "I looked for cousin Twig for three seasons and never found a scrap of him. Checked everywhere and let me tell you, there are some dark places out there that not even a monster should go." He suddenly yanked Dill's hood around to stare deeply into his eyes. "Promise you'll never try and climb down into the Abyss. Promise me."
"I promise." Dill said, shaking him off. "Now stop acting like such a den mother and light this." He handed over the rolled parchment containing the mixture. It was a copy of the Herald of Truth.
Moss could only see part of the headline, 'Quarter closed for refurbishment.'
How are three keepers missing and no one cares?
"What is happening here?" Moss wondered aloud.
Franc poked his glittery cloth again. "Could ask you the same question?".
"I fell in a crevice on the Third floor. It's some sort of fungal spore."
"Actually, now that I think about it, it looks more like MoonSugar." Dill stated.
"MoonSugar." Another voice groaned from the top bunk.
Kole poked his hood over the top.
"Hey, that's my bedroll." Moss snapped, annoyed he'd been replaced in less than a shift.
All the keepers were poking and sniffing him now. More concerned with free enhancers than their chainmates feelings.
"It's not spores. There's no smell." Franc pointed out.
"Hhhmmm, did you meet a ManaLich?" Dill asked. "Gotta bit of a tingle to it. Where abouts is this crevice?"
"Graveshifts on the second floor. Minor's Quarter. Hustle up keepers!" The new keeper Orderer shouted from outside the hovel before stepping in. Moss's mouth was agape, the bastard had finally taken the job. Working both key and manager positions now. He must be confident in himself, Moss thought. The others looked happy to see the 'pride' of their race enter their trashed hovel.
But Kai only had eyes for Moss, he squinted at him. A moment of confusion painted his usually stoic face. Then all the keepers were all staring at him. Waiting for an explanation.
But he couldn't say it. He'd have to admit he'd been in a restricted area and how he'd gotten there. Which would connect him with the Quarters brawl.
Where Kai had also been. Moss knew he'd got out using his loot, for he was an annoyingly illusive keeper.
The Oracle's wisdom was meant for moments like this.
'The wool is soft for a reason'. Moss thought as he looked around his chainmates. He couldn't show them the truth without endangering their lives.
"Like I said, I got lost in the Trenches and fell in a hole." He lied. "It happens to the best of us."
"Does it Kai?" Kole asked.
The Key keeper cleared his throat. "Shift starts soon lads, and we've got a lot of work to clean up. Let's get to it"
They all piled out, even Moss hoping he could help tidy up the mess he'd made.
Kai stopped him. "JunkDuty is needed in several other areas." He pushed a rolled scroll into his chest. Lingering there for a flicker before pinching his cloak. Nothing came off, but Kai remained unsatisfied. He leaned in, inhaling deeply. "You smell Moss-"
"That's fucking rude."
"-Of cinnamon."
His accusation was clear. The suspicion laid out. But the heavy coating of glittery pollen was difficult to place. Though Moss was surprised that even with all his recent water plunges that the smell of smoke had clung on.
"You think I've been baking treats with all that spare wax I've got?"
Kai tutted and went to leave. "Stews… missing. You are to report to Guk now, every four candles at the entrance of each floor. That will line up perfectly with the job listings. You're allowed to clear HolyRelics again. But to save candles, Guk will be disposing them for you. However he will give you the scrips at the end of each shift. No more crevice diving, keeper. We all have to do our part." He left.
Moss almost tore the scroll where he stood.
That demon loving shit expects me to find holy items for him. He can suck on my cloth.
Moss stormed out of the hovels. The list was dauntingly long, essentially covering every part of the dungeon. Except for the Sixth floor, nobody went there these shifts.
"Back to the grind."
When did I start hating work?

 

[Chaperone]

Moss poked the goblin with his foot. Its yellow eyes stared blankly into the graveyard's night sky. All seven of them looked quite peaceful in death. Except for the bloody froth bubbling from their mouths. The golden apples from DarkPines orchards lay nearby, only a few bites missing from each.
"There's a metaphor." Moss said to his new carer.
Guk spat a globule of EbonyBark on the goblin's body. "Metaphors are for WoodElves." He flicked Moss's glittery cloak. "You fit the scroll then. Wait for that poison to run out before you clean this mess, I'm not licking any dead cloths today. I'll be at the entrance." He said already walking away.
Can't believe I miss working for Stew.
The goblins always loitered around the graveyard floor causing mischief. Typically attempting to steal the golden apples without success. Both the FruitBats and DarkPines would scare them off before they got close. Annoyingly Gala and her warriors hadn't been present to discipline the skittish monsters, resulting in the entire tribe's death. But more importantly, Moss was hoping to talk with the OverSeer about the Believers. The only benefit of working JunDuty was knowing he'd eventually be in her territory. But where is she?
He kicked the greenskins in frustration. Goblins had always been a pest in the dungeon, never quite sticking to a floor or point of interest. Some dwellers believed the green kind were an old monster race gone mad due to a GreedCurse. Others say they're born from the shrooms in the trenches and are walking spores, used to spread the fungal forests. Whatever the case they only really become an issue towards the end of the season - when LootGoblins appear and the Hunters come for them.
Right now Moss had this group on his job list. Of all the menial tasks their kind had to do, this was the most insulting.
The goblin gang's smiles were partially covered with the frothy residue that continued to pour out. As if mocking him from the dead.
They're only going to hop out the well and head straight back for the orchard.
"We've got better things to do, aye little Doul?" He asked his companion. No other dwellers were able to see the strange creature. Moss had no idea why, but assumed it was because of the glittery spores still attached to him. Through his friend's ghostly body, Moss spotted a flash of gold. Not the polished gleam of the apples, which were unnaturally coloured. But the dark yellow of real treasure.
Beneath the skinny frame of a goblin, was a purse of coins. They always had gold on them. Where they stole it from, no one knew. But Moss wasn't going to waste an opportunity, since technically the anti-looting policy strictly applied to HolyRelics. He pillaged all their remains, hopping between each one deftly to avoid the toxic spilling out.
32 pieces filled his pouch. That was more wealth than he'd ever owned before, he assumed. The keeper had never actually got his hands on GoblinGold before. Heroes and demons seemed to love them just as much and always looted the bodies. He now had something on top of his scrips to spend at GaDiver's shop. With all the events that had played out recently, Moss decided that the bastard cheater Kai was right. He needed enchanted items to survive instead of leaving it all to chance. The keeper's new abilities were helping, but mostly in terms of work related situations.
Moss laid each Goblin out flat. Then with a quick lick and his CorpseCarrier, he piled them atop each other to make a log. That way he could avoid their smiling faces and the nasty aftermath of the apples. With a heave, he started to roll the goblin log to the nearby well. Flattening the blue grass as he went, until a small bump rocked the log. Moss looked back to find an old body lost amongst the foliage. He couldn't identify the race from the mere bones that remained. But the keeper was more interested in the silver bracelet around it's wrists. A HolyRelic. This is my chance.

Guk hucked a black globule from his patch of grass, then scanned Moss's work order.
"Sure, did this. Done that… maybe. That one… Who care's." He smeared phlegm across the scroll as he went. Using his ebony stained mouth like an ink pot and his claw the quill.
"You know I'm not going to miss anything. I always do my work to the letter." Moss said.
"I always do the work to the letter." Guk mocked him in a youngling's voice. "You're such a cloth sniffer. I'm surprised Stewie hated you. You would have made such good bedroll buddies."
Moss glared at Guk while he 'worked'. Kai was a lot of things, but the keeper had style and decorum. None of that had licked off onto his chainmate. Guk found very little interesting about JunkDuty. There were practically no scrips in it, no exciting events or laughs with his chainmates. He was miserable.
Guk scrunched the work order into his cloak. "I bet the boys are already shooting dice at the KeyHouse. They'll actually be winning scrips for once since I'm doing all the hard graft now. Obviously not including Kai. That keeper's got Elite work ethic. Wakes up at the 2nd candle everyday and trains. Only eats the best. Minotaur calf's, LionsMane, you know. None of that magic in a bottle poison you grubs chug all day. It's a mindset, it's why we're the best chain in the dungeon."
Moss wasn't in the mood to hear about Kai's DragonDung routine. He hadn't stopped since speaking with the key. He'd wanted to break away and meet up with the QuestGivers in the Shifting Sands, but Guk was latched onto him like a parasite. Following him around each floor, always in his shadow.
Ensuring Moss got all the rubbish and bodies from recent scuffles. Not raids, but dweller on dweller crimes, which were starting to peak with the closure of the Quarter. This led to many back alley taverns and alchemy labs popping up and seizing the demand. Enhancers were being sold on each floor. Grog was flowing without watchful gnoll guards and peaceful music to subdue the rowdy lot. Guk had found it comical, saying the dogs suppressed our freedom, yet he never helped clean up after so many died from expressing their freedoms.
In fact his new manager did little else but complain and brag. Moss was sick of hearing his self proclaimed title of 'second' key. He never thought JunkDuty could get any worse and yet Kai had found a way.
I'm a Custodian, a QuestGiver and a highly ranked keeper. I don't need a DenMother to watch over me while I pick up rubbish. I have my own quest to get on with.
But none of those achievements were going to get him out of JunkDuty.
Moss needed to look past the petty numbers and dig deep, just as Fangor had said.
The keeper had a plan. He'd considered how little Guk disrespected and loathed him. His carer looked down on Moss like he was a literal grub - that couldn't be trusted to his normal job.
"I found a HolyRelic." Moss said, pulling out the bracelet. "It burns so bad that I keep dropping it though. Maybe I should go hand it in now."
Guk spat out a black globule and snatched the item. "Not a fucking chance in hell. Keys' orders."
His smile reminded Moss of the dead goblins. He's already thinking about how happy this will make Kai. And all the scrips he'll get for it. Now to poke his ego. Let's see how long the 'second' key can oversee the real JunkDuty.
"I've cleared the Graveyard now." Moss pointed out.
"Wow, congratulations. You want a colourful ribbon for your cloak?" Guk snapped, spitting again.
Moss tried not to let his irritation show. "I just meant, I'll be heading back to the other floors now and sweeping the back passages. But before that, I have to sort my bags out." He tipped out one of his rubbish bags beside Guk.
"Banish me!" The carer yelled as he rolled away from the sudden mess "Are you stitched in the head? That's a whole shift's worth of shit. "
"This is the best part Guk. I'll show you."

 

[Chaperone]

Moss sat amongst the pile of rubbish.
"I'm going to sort out the common items from the junk now. Get any scraps of BlancMaterial for the wagons, probably burn the rest." Moss pulled out a slither of heel. He nibbled the end, licked the side then carefully inspected each crack. "Yep, almost certain it's junk. But only Pool knows the truth, I can only pray she offers me a glint of her wisdom. Will you pray with me." He asked the carer.
"Fuck no."
Moss got on his knees and silently prayed for several flickers. He opened an eye at the sound of leathery wings beating through the air. The mighty crack could only belong to one FruitBat.
Finally.
Gala blocked out the moonlight as she circled overhead. Not once did she look down at the keepers. But Moss wasn't worried, he was getting far better at catching the attention of giant monsters.
As Guk started to grumble, Moss decided to hold the prayer a little longer.
"Come on." Guk snapped. "She doesn't give a toss about you or your junk."
Moss finally stood and placed the heel by itself.
"Thank you Pool's for your clarity, she told me it's a… maybe. This is the maybe pile."
"It's trash you stupid grub. All of it." Guk was on his feet now, hopping in frustration.
"Wait!" Moss shouted before clawing through the pile to reveal a shiny shard. "BlancMetal. One keeper's junk is another Ke-"
"That's literally glass!" Guk howled. "Even if it was BlancMetal you're only holding a shard, no one's going to pay for it! Holy Pools!" He pulled the JunkDuty work order from his cloak and tossed it at him. "Make sure you tick off all that crap in the next several shifts then find me at the Grotto." He ordered before rushing off.
Moss cleared the rubbish pile, shoving it all back into his bag.
Fangor was right, the numbers don't show all your strengths. Like being the most annoying keeper in the whole dungeon.
Moss knew his usual overenthusiastic self was enough. Guk was lucky he wasn't chained to this duty. Otherwise escape from Moss would require a painful 'accident' to take place. Now alone and ready to go, he headed away from the exit and made for the orchard once again.

"Gala! Do you remember me? It's Moss." The keeper yelled into the trees. The great bat hung from the upper branches. Awake, vigilant and ignoring him.
Tear my cloth. Why is it never simple?
The keeper didn't want to shout any louder and attract Happy Howl's attention. He peaked through the orchard to the hut nestled at the back. It was home to a monster that matched Pitton's level of maddness. Furrys used to throw stones at his door, thinking they were safe amongst the trees.
Took us a whole shift to get all the pieces out of the branches. And here I am climbing them again.
Moss dug his claws in and started to climb the apple tree. His body shook as he got higher and higher. The soft grass below started to look a lot harder at a distance. It wasn't his climbing ability he doubted. But appearing as a thief to the winged monsters.
"Gala! It's Moss. The keeper you spoke to!" Her ears twitched but her oval orbs looked everywhere but at his blue cloak.
How could he appear as anything but a grub in the trees. Shouting you're a Believer is one thing. Convincing a dweller you see the truth is another. He knew what would convince him.
"I'm here to talk about our freedom, my freedom! From bloody Pool's and her fucking rules!" He shouted, looking to grab the next branch.
It swayed before his claws. Causing him to miss and fall.
The keeper scrambled for branches but couldn't grasp any. The hard graveyard floor rushed towards him. Eager to catch his body and drink his blood.
A gust of wind blinded him as he was wretched back into the air.
A sharp pain cut into his leg from Gala's claws. He didn't have time to think before she dumped him back at the exit and flew off into the night sky.
"Banish my life." He moaned.
But more wings flapped over him. Causing the keeper to cower on the spot. He sunk into his hood and held his cloak in fear completely. Any bravery he felt climbing the tree was gone, any pride after tricking Guk had vanished. He was a monster for the shadows and crevices, not an open plain.
But it wasn't claws or poisonous apples that brushed against him, but a scrap of parchment. A symbol filled most of the paper. The red ink showed a shield imprinted with a clawed hand. Underneath was written 'Hide behind our shield and unite, for Pool's is watching'. In tiny writing was a location with four candles beside it. The Abyss, an endless pit located in the Fungal Trenches. As Moss read the parchment, small runes on its side started to smoke.
Why would they put runes on-
It burst into flames. Engulfing the dry paper as he cried out and tossed it away.
The keeper had been invited to attend a meeting. He presumed it was the same one the Lesser mentioned in the Quarter. This was his chance to gather actual information.
Moss looked at his bloody leg and dirty cloak. If he was going to infiltrate a secret rogue organisation, he needed to prepare.


The gold rattled onto GaDiver's counterspace. Rolling and pinging off jar's full of oddities and elixirs. The HowlerMonkey hung from a rafter, his long legs dangling down to inspect the coins. Picking up several pieces to sniff and lick was his methodology of choice. The keeper was impressed by his recently accumulated wealth. The shop owner wasn't. "GoblinGold. Cheap stuff. It's more BlancMetal than actual gold."
Moss, who was already browsing on how he'd spend his riches, snapped around at the obvious false accusation. "That's true dungeon tender right there. Everyone trades with it."
GaDiver rolled his eyes. "Listen keeps. We both know you had fun 'acquiring' this wealth. You can't have both."
"Fun? What are you accusing me of?"
"When my balls were higher than my howl, I used to go goblin bashing with the troop. It's a laugh. We'd impress upon the LadyHowlers, competing with each other. They're walking training dummies." He tapped his head and made a knocking noise. "Head's full of SoftWood. That's the point of them. To be killed and looted. But these crappy coins could be melted down into a nice knife or doorhandle. They aren't life changing."
Moss was a little shocked by GaDiver's casualness to simply kill them for sport, it was demonic behaviour. At the end of the shift they were fellow monsters, just suffering from a persistent SlowSpell. But the HowlerMonkey's confession showed his honesty, he wasn't trying to swindle him. Moss's imaginary wealth just took a dive. Now he couldn't afford most of the shop's stock, he wanted it so much more.
"So what can I get for my 'fancy door handles'?
"A handful of LowQuality herbs or a thimble of elixir."
Moss groaned, this wasn't going to help him during the meeting. A claw full of herbs against the rebelling OverSeers of the dungeon. He was going to get laughed at then boiled alive. It was just the same muk, different day.
"I've got about sixty scrips as well." Moss offered. To the keeper, that was a lot. But looking at the prices on the products was a harsh economical reality slap.
GaDiver saw the defeat in his eyes. "Hhmmm, I'm sure we'll find something for you. But all this dungeon turmoil isn't great for the supply lines you see. The SnailWagons haven't been coming through as often."
"The Core suppliers? Is this because of what happened at Minors?"
"Who knows, bloody rumour mill is all you get. My mad neighbour thinks raiders are hiding on the Sixth. Some dwellers reckon it's the Core punishing us for destroying the Quarter. Others blame Queenie, but she's always had sand in her clam." He clicked his fingers together with sudden realisation. "Some Furries saw a Ghoul in the mist. Swore on their litter it was true. But that means nothing, they'll eat younglings if they're closer than the pantry."
"A ghoul. They're just a myth, right?" Moss said, chewing on his claws. He was just in the mists.
GaDiver hopped down from the rafters and leaned close to Moss. Whispering in a hushed voice. "I wish, little keeper. I've seen one, a real terror of our world. Was like a DreamCurse mixed with a bad batch of ManaCrystals. That shit never leaves you."
Moss remembered the noises on the second floor. The feeling of being watched in the mists. He was scared to know. But he had to ask.
"Tell me, what you saw."

 

[Chaperone]

GaDiver took a handful of LowQuality herbs and packed them into a pipe. Smoking it for a flicker before beginning.
"It was many seasons ago. I was barely off my mother's tit and reaching for branches alone. The dungeon's last Core, Hells, had just retired. But a lot of dwellers forget that a change in leadership isn't always a smooth transition. Lost the whole of the Sixth because of it. All the floors were wild in those shifts, hardly a structure to stand on let alone support a monster. There was a lot of infighting back then. Nothing crazy like war, but more tribal chest banging and howling. Led to a few deaths - like that matters. Anyway I was joining my Dad for work, gathering the fruits in the Woods. Was fun, simple work. He was great at it. Made it into a game to see who could gather the fastest, racing each other through the trees. I miss that monkey, he was a good one. When we heard the screams. I knew they were bad because he stopped swinging. Just stopped like a frightened youngling. But the screams kept going and going and going. And then… nothing. We waited there in the branches for what felt like a whole shift. Then it came. Not from below, not from where the screams were. But in the branches above. Moving through the canopy with such speed. It passed right by us. I could see its arms were too long. Too many of them as well. It had these huge fangs that split through its cheeks and passed its jaw. That wasn't what scared us though, it was the insanity behind those eyes. I can see them now. But it just glanced at us and kept going. Like we were critters to it. I think Pools was watching us that shift." GaDiver's hit his pipe deeply. Looking out the window in a trance. "Turns out it had killed a whole family of SwampBears. Just tore them limb from limb, and they were mighty monsters. Unlike their lanky ancestors you see around the Village. Demons didn't mess with those green giants. It was a ghoul alright, a real fiend."
"Limb from limb." Moss repeated.
He thought about the demons at the Oasis. Their shredded remains. Could it really be a ghoul or are dwellers just scared.
The keeper looked through the floorboards to the curling mist below. He'd been dumped down there after passing through the waterfall. Casually resting on the bank while a true fiend lurked nearby. A HellHare was one thing, an apex predator but also a monster with normal behaviour. It slept, ate, got bored, walked around, slept some more, and got angry when you shove a HolyRelic in its asshole. But a Ghoul was more than a monster, it was wild and mad. The myths talk of its unparalleled strength and ferocity. If both creatures met in a dark alley, the HellHare would run for the hills and pray to its god.
"I heard they're completely unpredictable. Appearing from the shadows when you least expect it." Moss said, shaking at the mere idea of walking through the dungeon. There were a lot of shadows. "They're supposed to tear your soul apart, piece by piece. For seasons, leaving you stuck between life and death until madness consumes you."
The HowlerMonkey chuckled. "I don't know about that. I think they're just mad. Running on primal instinct."
"Then why didn't it kill you?" Moss asked.
GaDiver picked his teeth. "Who knows. Dad said it was because I didn't use Holy words. But he swore like a drunk cultist. Anyway, tis only a rumour. Words will have you reaching for rotten branches in a hurry. Clear your head and the right path will present itself. Now." He wiped the coins off the counter and onto the floor. Then slammed something down in its place. "If you gotta face a Ghoul than this Ring of Silence will sort all your problems."
The brass coloured ring was smooth and spotless. Not a scratch or ding on the BlancMetal. Moss's heart skipped in excitement, washing away his fears.
This is it.
"Silence. I'll be undetectable? Invisible?" He asked. Thinking of his UnseenRunt ability paired with this item, it was a perfect match.
No raiders will catch me. No keepers will judge me.
Moss thought of the endless possibilities. Toiling away in secret. Building his scrips and improving his rank. Even Kai couldn't stop him then.
"Exactly." GaDiver said. "Well not exactly. Actually not at all. Silence will disrupt abilities and effects. Whoever it touches will be rendered useless. It doesn't stop people from talking, as I found out with my old partner…." He looked at a lock of hair hanging near his hammock. "I suppose it did get quite quiet in here after she left. So I guess it did work in the end."
Moss tossed the ring back onto the counter, unimpressed. "Why would I want that? I wouldn't be able to use my abilities at work. It's useless. What happened to treat thy neighbour?"
"I am, this is an absolute bargain. Plus I'll give you a thimble of that enhancing elixir your mate drinks."
"Which mate?" Moss asked.
"You know Kai, that key keeper. Gaggle of lackeys in toe. Real smooth talker. Gotta a great cloth on his shoulders."
GaDiver placed the teardrop bottle down on its flat bottom. Its contents swirled with a glorious blue glow. A tacky label was plastered on the glass that said 'GooodStuff'. The liquid barely rippled as Moss kicked the counter in frustration.
"Oi, none of that. We have rules in here." The HowlerMonkey snapped, pointing at a makeshift sign on the wall. 'Hurt yourself in your own home'. Beneath that in smaller letters was, 'No product testing allowed'.
Moss was too livid to respond.
That cheating fuck uses loot AND enhancers. I'll never catch his cloth at this stage.
But he knew he had to take any ledge to raise himself up, no matter how thin it appeared.
"A full swig and another item for the gold and sixty scrips."
The store owner rolled his eyes. "Fine, but your only other option is that." He pointed a long finger into the corner where a sunset coloured cloud slowly rolled off the ground. Billowing from a central point, it looked unbelievably soft like the tail of a BunnyLamb, before they moulted and turned carnivorous with age.
"It's called a CloudMount."
"Yes, yes, yes, yes." The keeper yelled as he sprinted and leapt onto the cloud.
The wind left him as his chest smashed the floor. He shivered as he gasped for air, his cloak soaked from passing through the cloud.
"Yeh, never worked out why it's called that." GaDiver said. "Terrible mode of transport really. So you'll take the ring?"
Moss gave him a thumbs up.
Any ledge will do.

Moss was wandering back to the hovel, reading through the effects of the enhancer. He was gonna try for a full gulp, but GaDiver had seen it all and had filled a small cup for him to drink from.
GooodStuff (Common):
+5% rate of ability advancement (24 candles)
He needed to get his claws on a full bottle one day. Then really go to work. Wearing the ring was pointless so he pocketed it.
Maybe I can sell it to one of my chain-
A small sea of blue came into view. The keepers had a massed outside their homes and were anxiously mumbling to each other.
Moss found Franc amongst them. He looked more tired than usual. But the real oddity was his obvious anxiety. The keeper was licking his claws in haste. A strange orange paste was caught beneath the tips.
Some sort of calming tonic?
"I didn't hear Ombay." Moss said.
His roommate jumped out of his cloth at the sight of him, before turning back to face Kai, who was standing on a hovel reading through a scroll.
"It's to do with the last shift." After seeing Moss's lack of understanding he continued, reluctantly. "There wasn't any work. No bodies, nothing. Was like a shift had already passed through. Have you seen many during your JunkDuty."
"A few in the woods and goblins on the first. But not loads."
"Hhhmmm." Franc said, his concern was evident.
Keeper's were paid by the body. This was their main mine, their fruiting tree. It wasn't like they depended on seasons of Flow like other dwellers. Dwellers always died, raiders always raided. Moss knew the Quarter had been hit by the HellHare, which removed monsters indefinitely. But had it gotten into the rest of the dungeon? That would be cause for alarm and require Queenie to mobilise all her troops.
"What are others saying? Have they seen any weird… things?" Moss questioned, not wanting to give away too much.
"Yeh, yesterday Kai's chain were sent to recover these odd monsters. Apparently they'd been torn apart at work or something." Franc answered. "Someone said they were ParchmentPushers, whatever that means."
More monsters torn apart. Moss felt the fear creep over him again. As if the shadows in the Grotto were watching, waiting for him to be alone.
Are the rumours true? Are there ghouls in the dungeon?

 

[Chaperone]

Are ghouls real? Moss wondered.
Before he could ask Franc anymore questions, Kai scrunched up his scroll and raised his claw. To Moss's disappointment, everyone grew silent immediately.
"Our castle is crumbling." Kai said softly. "Its walls are assaulted, it's gate splintering and the holy hordes are taking our people, our friends, our family and condemning them to a painful death. That most will never recover from." Kai stepped into the crowd, and grabbed a young keeper. "What is your name?"
The kid mumbled before finding his voice. "Wick."
"Will you mount the ramparts and face them? Do you have the strength to stop their golden armies?"
"I'm… I'm not sure I do. I'm just a keeper."
"Exactly. We keep the cycle going. Even the soft cloths with only a few seasons behind them know our place. As appointed by Pools herself."
"I'm honoured sir." Wick squealed out.
Sir? Who's this little shit think he's talking to?
"We all wear the cloth. So when the dungeon calls upon us, will we respond?"
"Yes!" The crowd cheered.
Kai hopped back to his rock with his fist high. "And when our castle needs more out of us than ever before, can we do it?"
"Yes!" They cried in joy.
Franc's groan reflected Moss's own attitude, though he imagined for different reasons.
"That time is now. We'll be working double graveyard shifts from now on. Followed by JunkDuty to help restore our numbers. Bodies have been left and forgotten for too long. That ends now. Chain leaders to me."
The crowd dispersed with an excitement not usually felt amongst his kind.
Moss felt it too. "Guess that means the old chains back togeth-"
A hand landed on his shoulder. His innards lifted as he was wrenched behind a hovel and smashed against the wall.
"Oops. Didn't mean to be so rough which ya." Lui said with a broad smile. "Sorry, Mossy."
"Don't frolic with the fairies, lad. They'll show you happiness then rob ya blind." Tink flicked his glittery shoulders.
The keeper went from mild terror to joy in a wing beat. His mates had survived the watery depths and made it back in one piece. The blind musician felt the look of confusion on his face. "Wait till you hear our tale."
"Aye, it's madness. But not here. Not with that fella knocking about." Tink nodded towards where Kai stood upon his rock.
"Let's get out of here."
Moss led them through the Grotto. Sneaking between the alleyways and over hovels until he was back at home. Safe inside, away from the other keepers. They caught him up with their experiences after the fall.
"Thanks to Lui's quick thinking I didn't drown." Tink said, slapping the MolePede on the shoulder with respect. "Not many places to swim in the maze so I never learnt. He saved my greasy hide from a wet death."
"It's all in the fur. Light as air." Lui lifted his bandana to wink with a glossy eye. "Six arms help though. Like I said on the Sixth, I'll be teaching you the ways of water after our quest."
Moss gasped. "Quest? What qu- No wait. The sixth? You guys went there?"
"Aye, we washed up on this bank-"
"Full of bones?" The keeper cut him off. Hoping to share his trauma with another monster. "Like a white beach covered in-"
"Moss, shut ya yap and I'll tell you. We washed up on a rocky bank. There was this purple pillar with a rune." Tink explained.
The keeper wanted to say he'd also seen that but held his tongue.
"We could see another in the distance so we followed it, then another until we saw actual sunlight. I'm used to dark spaces, but that cave was wrong, like a cold wind creeping into your inner parts."
"The Sixth thawed us quick like." Lui said, taking over the tale. "You must see it Moss. Rolling hills of soft grass. Pieces of land hanging in the blue sky."
"Hanging?" Moss asked, he couldn't help it.
"That's right, suspended by the Flow. Like small islands. And the statues, monsters made of stone. They were every which way, not a spot of land without at least one. We were actually in one. The cave mouth was a giant's mouth."
"Aye, didn't realise till we jumped down the waterfall. Looks like it was spewing after too much grog." Tink added. "Been there."
Moss couldn't believe they'd made it to the Sixth. He'd never gone there himself, few dwellers were even allowed. It was said to be haunted and full of wraiths. The lost spirits from the doomed HiveSects that once called it home. He was a little jealous of their adventure, but the keeper wasn't about to risk his life to see some floating rocks.
Lui scratched his chin and turned to Tink. "Do you think the giant lived in that big castle on the hill you described?"
"Nah, the walls were massive but not giant size. Shame we couldn't get in."
"What castle?" Moss asked, suddenly intrigued with the sixth.
"More of a ruin." Tink said. "But I couldn't see a way in except through these huge doors, but they were locked."
Moss summoned his key, making the others step back in alarm. The large rusty teeth stuck out towards the gnome. He leaned in to inspect the ornate design on the handle. "Never seen work like that before. What is it?"
The keeper went on to explain the rune Rene had given him. Quickly catching Lui up with the series of events that led to the secret area's discovery.
Moss was practically buzzing with excitement. Barely able to ask the question. "Do you think the castle is my temple?"
"I didn't see any windows like you described. The walls weren't exactly built for my kind to look over. Only one way to find out." Tink said.
Moss looked at the broken insignia, it whispered promises of a deeper purpose. Another path in his journey as the Custodian.
He was itching to go but the Believer's meeting was starting soon and the graveyard shift.
Moss groaned. He was happy to go back to work with his chainmates, But he had more important places to be. Which he quickly explained to the others.
Lui and Tink both shared a look.
"Only the lonely and mad willingly swim in a swamp. You're neither Moss." Lui said.
Tink shook his head. "Aye, lad. Tis dangerous. I wanna hear what Queenie's lot have to say but what if Pool finds out? Attending is treason. You'll be called.." The gnome looked over his shoulder before whispering. "A rogue."
"If I get caught I can always use this." Moss showed them the QuestGiver token and explained what Sir Quetin had told him.
Lui scoffed. "The gnolls will pull that off your dead body and then start asking questions. They enforce the law, but only in the order they see fit."
Moss nodded in agreement, but it didn't change his mind. He had to know, he had to take this leap.
"I'm going, I have to." He confirmed, to them and himself.
The gnome unsheathed his shifter. "So am I."
"No, I think this is invitation only. The OverSeer Gala knows me. If they see an outsider then claws will start flying, I don't wanna see your cloth getting torn because of me." The keeper said.
Lui whistled in agreement. "This is Moss's quest. You have your own Tink."
Moss was already heading for the door, but stopped at hearing this.
"What's this?"
The gnome pulled his polished goggles down and started wiping them excessively. "Me and Lui have been talking… about family. I think it's time I spoke to mine."
"And I'm gonna search for mine at the Quarter as well." The MolePede added.
Moss slapped Tink on the arm. "That's a monster you can face, I believe in you. And Lui, I'm sorry, but I heard there were no bodies left at Minor's. And your band were right in the middle of it all." A twinge of guilt started in the keeper. He'd saved their lives by releasing the HellHare, but sacrificed a good clawful of dwellers in the process.
"Nah, those string pluckers weren't my family. They were Katz. That loot goblin wanted me to teach them and go touring the floors. I'm searching for Ruffles, my HareHound. She'd outpace any monster so I know she survived."
"You'll find her." Moss told him.
The last Keepers were spilling past his hovel by now.
Moss had to get amongst them if he wanted to sneak out early.
"I'm going to check on Rene after my meeting. But Good Flow to the both of you. We'll meet back here after our quests." Moss said.
But before he could leave, Guk walked into his hovel.
"Oi, SoftCloth!" His eyes went wide at seeing the other two. Lui's hunched form still towered over the others, while Tink whipped out his shifter.
Guk cleared his throat. "Sorry dwellers, can you rob him after his shift? He'll have more scrips by then anyway."
"He's our mate." The gnome spat.
Guk laughed before seeing they were serious. "Right. I've heard some odd shit flowing around the dungeon, but that's the maddest. Your back with your chain, Moss. I'm out."
"Do you have my scrips for that HolyRelic I found?" Moss sneered.
"Fuck no! You grubs are always trying to live off the crumbs of real monsters. Try working a bit harder next time." He said, flicking him the HolyV as he turned to leave.
But a hulking figure blocked the way, a deep snarl escaping its snarl.
"Oh pools no." Guk cried out.
Long claws slashed out, tearing cloth like MothWings and splashing gore across the others.
In the dim torch light. Moss could only see red blood and its large white fangs.

 

[Chaperone]

Guk's remains dripped off the bedposts, the walls, their clothes. The hulking figure stepped into the hovel's torch light.
Lui melted back. "I wont! I wont go back!"
Tink lifted his shifter out, ready to die for his friends, again.
While Moss just shook his head. "For Hell's sake."
Between sharp fangs, it growled. "Life for a life, pack brother."
"Fangor your smile is terrifying. Guys, this is the gnoll I mentioned."
The keeper's words did little to bridge that trust between dwellers and guards. He also didn't have time to start now.
Moss started licking his hovel clean, gathering Guk into a manageable boulder. "I know he was an arsehole but why? Why cut him down?"
"Few may disrespect the pack and live. He shall return from Pool's waters knowing his place amongst us now." The gnoll licked his own claws clean. Pleased with himself. Moss noted his own time in the well. A large section of fur across one shoulder was now thin and dull. He could see warped scars where it had been torn free by the MonarchWorm.
The keeper rolled the body out the door. He had to admit, it did feel good watching Guk die. Plus no one was going to punish a guard for his actions. They were the Core's muscle, her enforcers. Their actions were accepted as her own. It was their job at the end of the shift to maintain order. Guk's personality could be conceived as an offensive to public wellbeing. A small smile crept across Moss's face. His Flow was starting to change for the better.
"Right, I'll see you guys back here after my shift."
They timidly waved him off.
"I shall join you." Fangor announced, following his shadow.
"HHmmm, you don't have to. You were never in my debt. But, well we're even now anyway." Moss pointed out.
He had a good excuse for being late now. Even Kai's lot couldn't deny the action of a guard. But having the same gnoll following him around would look a little suspicious.
"My oath to you isn't repaid, brother. The fiend left nothing for the grubs." Fangor said.
The keeper noted both the respectful familiarity and derogatory title. No matter what he did or achieved would never overcome his race's prejudice.
They'd reached the swinging bridge that led from the Grotto to the Village. It bounced and swayed with gnoll's weight. Causing Moss to almost lose his 'excuse' over the side and into the mist.
Maybe I should just let him go. Who's going to miss the pest anyway?
The temptation was sweet. But the Orderer's lash would be waiting.
Moss reluctantly accepted he needed both of them, for now. Once his shift started then he could use his UnseenRunt and slip away.
Eventually they caught up with the keepers, who trudged along the platforms of the Village. Fangor had brought up the glittery spores. Moss had explained his great escape from the passage. Then subtley asked about the Doul on his shoulder.
"Do you notice anything else different about me?"
The gnoll glanced at him as the keepers formed a huddle. "You are… taller."
It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeh, must have been the blue mushrooms."
So no one can see it. Interesting.
Two keepers got on their knees, allowing Kai to hop onto their backs and be seen above the crowd. Where he spotted Moss and his new 'chainmate'. A poster hung off the tree trunk beside him. Most of it was covered in dye, but Moss knew all of the Core's sayings by now.
It read; 'Some Heroes have fangs. Watch thy neighbour. Do your part for Pools.' Monsters had always been suspicious of each other, especially between races.
The message painted over the top fought against that notion.
"This." Kai slapped the orange dye. "Is an offense to Pool's and an attack against our dungeon. Any such symbolism is illegal and punishable by immediate exile."
Moss was attuned to seeing mess for what it was, not hidden creative subtleties. The orange liquid had dribbled badly after being quickly slapped on. But it was certainly there. A flame in the shape of a shield wearing a crown. Not many monsters walked around in a perpetual blaze - or wore crowns.
Not your smartest move Queenie. But that orange… where have I seen it?
Moss looked around the crowd. All looked bored, except Franc.
"Unionists are not dwellers. They're a curse that needs banishing." Kai finished.
Fangor growled at the name, causing Moss to flinch. Several other keepers turned around then quickly scuttled away at the sight of him. That wasn't a good sign for a dweller hoping to attend their meeting.
"Not a fan of Unions?" Moss whispered.
"They're a festering plague on dungeon society. A rot that must be cut out and burnt before the masses. We shall route them out when the time is right." Fangor answered.
The crowd began to disperse, setting off throughout the Watcher's Woods and beyond to clean the vandalism.
Kai appeared from the masses.
"You're late." He said. Addressing Moss but looking at the gnoll.
"Yes, unfortunately Guk died. And I couldn't leave his shredded remains behind."
The Key keeper seemed to understand the hint. He put a claw on the boulder. "I'll recover him myself."
"And the scrips?" Fangor growled.
Kai looked between the two of them. "Will be delivered to Moss by Guk."
The gnoll nodded. It's nice having a bit of muscle, Moss decided.
Kai asked, politely, for Moss to find his chainleader and clean their appointed zone.
Instead of dismissing them, the key keeper simply stared at the gnoll.
It reminded Moss of the time he saw a monster, who'd just travelled across the Shifting Sands, seeing a cold brew that he couldn't afford.
The keeper left to start his work order and looked for his chain. They were already positioned at their station, and rapidly dispersed at his approach.
Moss felt like he was wearing Holy armour. But he knew what the real issue was.
"Fangor, while you're here could you reach that top part of the paint. If that's okay?" Moss asked, pointing up a great tree where his tiny frame couldn't get to. The gnoll tore his eyes from the mist for a flicker to regard the vandalism with disgust.
"Duty bound I am. But the dens taught us our place in this dungeon. I cannot." Fangor admitted. Once again vigilant for unseen foes that didn't exist.
Bloody brilliant. Does he think rogues are going to drop from the trees at this very moment.
"That's fine. I'll just climb up." Moss scaled the trunk with his claws and started licking it clean. "So… which den… are you… from?"
"ThreeClaw. We resided beside the Quarter. All gone now. Everyone I know."
The keeper was glad he was facing his work at the moment. Any monster would see the guilt across his face. "Hells bells. I'm sorry to hear that."
"It is the way of my Flow. When Hallowed Eve arrives I shall be rewarded with the Lover'sFruit and rebuild my den." The gnoll stated.
The Lover'sFruit was gifted to the high achievers. The keys of each races to be used or sold as they saw fit. This was for Minor monsters and above only. Keepers didn't make the cut.
But with so many dens spread between each floor. And the ThreeClaws beings obliterated while failing at their duty of maintaining order. Moss couldn't see why Fangor was so confident.
"What happens if the fruit goes to another den?"
"It shall not. All dens are given a mandatory supplement each season to maintain our numbers. I will receive a SnailWagon all for myself by the festival's end."
"At least get to start a whole new den. You could even give them a good name this time."
Fangor growled and held up his hand. Three claws curled out from his to make his point. "My ancestor's blood gave me these. My DenHead welcomed me with a name and added their own. It is our warcry, for we are proud to bear it into death. They taught me discipline and control, as condoned by our Core. It is the reason I am oath bound to you now. So please, if you have nothing important to say to me. Silence will suffice."
"Sorry. That was…" Moss cut himself off. He was about to mention how he'd love the idea of starting a new chain of keepers. Building them up, training in the best methods and work ethic. But the keeper could see a pain in Fangor. Even when the gnoll held himself high and growled at the mist.
He's hurting, and feels that he must repay me. When really we both don't want him to be here.
Moss looked over to his chainmates and saw Franc working alone. Sulking or angry. He usually hung around the others. But not this shift.
"Hey Fangor could you find out what candle it is?" Moss asked.
"At once." The gnoll charged on all fours into the mist and headed for the nearest platforms. Most shops held shift long candles burning inside. On a shelf beyond all their wares. The merchants claimed it was an expense they were happy to front for the community. But all dwellers knew the truth. You had to enter their shop to find out the time and then you'd get hit with some deal offer or sales pitch.
The mists swirled as the bounding figure disappeared. Moss had to rush. He ran at Franc who was currently cleaning the side of a SnailWagon stable. The large barn had been hit with a huge message; 'Together we are strong!'.
As Moss ran, he passed Dill and Kole. Who were lounging on thick shrubs and smoking ebonys.
"Yo, Moss. You running from those demons?" Dill asked, causing Kole to sit up and look around. Satisfied with mediocre inspection of the area. The keeper squirmed back into the foliage.
Moss skidded to a halt.
"Demons in the woods?"

 

[Chaperone]

Moss skidded to a halt. "Demons in the woods?"
"Yeh bro. They just tore up a whole chain about three trees back. There's bits of blue in the branches. Blood and guts and cloth and shit. It was terrible." Dill said.
"So terrible. We just had to have a break." Kole admitted as he handed his companion a smoke. Moss now smelt it for what it was - LowGrade Herbs.
Why would demons come onto the fifth when there were no raiders? Queenie always kept her warriors training in the ShiftingSands. Strange.
"Thanks for letting me know. Could you shout out if you see them?" Moss asked.
"Fuck no! I'm running." Dill said.
Kole shifted even deeper into his shrub. "I'll shout out for you Moss. You can hide in my bush castle with me."
Moss just nodded and headed for Franc. Now with less wax than before, he had to be faster than a gnoll.
"Holy hell, Moss!" Franc snapped, almost falling off the side of the stable. "I thought you were a ghoul!"
"Sorry about that. Look, I need to talk to you about that orange dye on your claws."
"Well… I'm cleaning it. So, yeh. It gets everywhere. There's some on your cloth too."
Moss didn't need to check his own cloak. He cleaned with his tongue and did it well.
"I saw it on you before the meeting. We've worked together for seasons Franc. So I know when you aren't yourself." Moss told him.
Franc's claws were trembling then. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder.
"I had to do it, Moss. They said I had to prove myself or Purry would be taken. Please don't report me. That gnoll-"
Moss took a step back. "It's not like that. He's only gone for a flicker so listen. I got the invite for the meeting. I have to go but it's by the Abyss. Can you cover my shift work?"
The other keeper stopped still. "You're skipping work to attend a Union meeting. Are you on ManaCrystals?"
"No. I'm on a quest. But I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important."
"I know. I know you've never missed a shift ever. But, Moss. You can't go. It's-"
A wave of cold mist wafted over them as Fangor landed. He breathed softly behind Moss as the keeper turned. The gnoll stood still like he hadn't just sprinted through the floor.
"Candle ten and a half." Fangor announced. His predatory gaze regarded Franc as he sniffed the air. They say gnoll guards were trained to smell rogue dwellers through walls. Both keepers waited while his nostrils flared.
Then the air puffed between them. And Kai appeared.
Moss wasn't surprised that the key keeper was no longer hiding his loot ability. As Orderer and leader, few could challenge him now.
Though I do have a gnoll whose life is dedicated to maintaining the law of the dungeon. Which Kai has broken.
"Great work team." Kai said, inspecting the nearby trees and stables. "You're progressing nicely."
Franc thanked him. Moss didn't.
Fangor growled.
The key regarded the gnoll once again before turning to him. "Moss, can we talk for a flicker?"
He nodded as they separated themselves from the others.
Kai sighed and shook his head. "You know, I never thought I'd say this but I miss Stew. He could be a real HolySword up your clothside most shifts. You know?"
The question sounded rhetorical but Kai let it hang between them. Moss needed this to be over so he could go. So he tried to fill the space with whatever came to mind.
"A real troll tosser."
Kai laughed. "Yeh. A mad goblin for work scrolls."
"No, he was a HarpyBanshee but every shift was his RedMood." Moss said with a giggle.
"Exactly. You know my pain. But you wouldn't believe how much I miss him now. Getting all these orders done each shift is more painful without him."
"Right. Well, I've got to actually finish my section too." Moss pointed out.
"You'll be fine. Your lot are one of the better chains." Kai stated even as they heard Dill and Kole chuckling from their shrub castle. "The others are useless or dead."
"Oh I heard. Demons in the woods?"
"It must be linked to these Union messages. But the guards won't leave the platforms just for keepers. It fucking pisses me off. No respect for us even when we maintain their entire world."
The constant fire in Moss bloomed. This was the reason for his ascension. The respect he'd bring the keepers once he held Kai's position. But right now he was getting a glance through the window. The struggles it brought. What they needed was more power. Both in council meetings and a seat with Pools herself. Once Moss claimed that, he could petition for greater punishments against keeper killers. Or armed gnolls to protect them on their shift.
Just like I have.
"What about Fangor?" Moss asked.
"The gnoll."
"Well he's kind of my gnoll now. Duty bound to me. It's a deep seeded practice taught within den culture, I'm sure you haven't heard about it. But I could ask him to protect the other chains during their shift." Moss offered.
"Seriously? And he'd go along with it, just like that?" Kai said.
Moss stood straight. Feeling bigger than the mighty key Kai for a flicker. "Of course. He'll do anything I ask."
"That would be huge, Moss. I'd have to find a way to repay you."
"Scrips usually work." Moss considered the numbers. "Say twenty for each candle he works."
"For a gnoll? I'd pay at least fourty."
"Deal." Moss said, shooting his hand out to seal the deal.
Kai hesitated. "Well, the only issue would be that we only have one gnoll and so many chains. All spread throughout the floor each shift. So to maximise Fangor's protective capabilities, he would have to know where they all are at all times."
"What are you saying?"
"Just that I know these things, but only because I'm the Orderer. Believe me, I've been key for a few seasons and I never paid attention to this scroll licking work. It's so dull. Would you wanna do it?" Kai said, offering his hand.
Orderer? Hell no. Parchment pushing dragon dung. I'd have no candles for my actual work as custodian or my quest.
"I'll have to pass. I like to get my claws dirty when I work." Moss told him.
"A real salt of the dungeon kind of monster. I respect that. I'll have to hold onto the position until we find Stew or you change your mind. Shame, the other keepers could have done with that gnoll." Kai shrugged and started to leave.
"Wait. Hey Fangor!" Moss waved over the gnoll. He then grabbed Kai and shook his hand. "40 scrips a candle." He whispered before the gnoll arrived.
"You summoned me." Fangor grumbled.
"Yes. Since your duty bound to me and I am a keeper of the cloth. Could you work with other keepers? Just to protect them. No cleaning or what not." Moss asked.
The gnoll thought for a flicker before shaking his head. "Shusky, the matriarch of the ThreeClaws spoke of a single bond that cannot be broken. This I share with you and you alone."
Banish my soul.
"How about I take our special 'bond' and pass it over to Kai here. He's the key keeper so similar to your den leader. So helping him is like helping me." Moss suggested.
The gnoll nodded.
"Excellent." Kai said. Once again offering his hand to Moss.
The keeper had rushed this part earlier so Fangor didn't have to see. But now it was out in the open and the others were both watching him.
Moss took it and felt a little bite in his palm.
He pulled it back to see red.
"Sealed in blood like the ThreeClaw's late Alpha Shusky SilentFang would trust. Order above all." Kai stated, showing the gnoll his own bloody hand.
"Order above all." Fangor repeated. "What do you need of me?" He asked, following Kai into the mist.
What in the hells just happened?
A hand landed on his shoulder causing Moss to jump.
"I think you just got swindled." Franc told him. "But if you're going to make that meeting I'd leave right this flicker."
Moss agreed and rushed off. He had more important things on his mind than scrips and hierarchy. He had to find out what Queenie was doing with the HolyRelics or no one was getting paid.
The keeper needed to spy on one of the dungeon's most dangerous enemies.
A Union of Rogue dwellers.

 

[Chaperone]

Moss crawled through the fungal foliage, it was dense and gloomy. Just like the mists, monsters were told not to stray from the paths. Unknown creatures lurked in the shadows. Strange noises and birds called from the hanging caps above. Their glow was dull now, making the journey slow and difficult. But the frightened keeper had the Doul's light, allowing him to push on. The wax was burning and the Believer's meeting would start soon.
"Mosssssss." A voice whispered.
He spun on the spot. Looking into the lights of the spore patches and shroom shrubs. Two blinked back at him.
Fuck this.
Moss dived between two fat caps, squeezing his body beneath their gills and wriggling his way through, towards a clearing on the other side.
It was wet inside, allowing his cloth to slide through with no issues.
Oddly warm too, and what is that sweet smell?
Having not eaten or drank any stamina potions in a few candles. The keeper couldn't help himself. His tongue probed the damp surface.
Wow, it's like MoonSugar and SwampTea all at once.
He licked again. This time across the gills where it dripped from. It worked wonders to his tired mind, killing the anxiety of going to the meeting. The stress of leaving his shift early was gone. Moss just wanted to curl up and stay in this dreamlike bedroll forever.
Pools must be smiling down on me to lead me to such a wonderful place. Why have I never heard of this shroom? I've never felt so safe and loved.
The keeper licked the gills again.
It was less sugary now, leaving only the bitter SwampTea flavour along with something else.
Bit of spice in there. And why is it more like syrup?
The keeper crawled forward, trying to find the delightful treat again.
When his claws grabbed a hard object. Even in the near darkness, Moss knew what this was. He'd worked with them his entire life - a bone.
The gloop was hot now, dripping over his cloak and wrapping him in a cosy blanket. Reminding him of the peace and quiet at the Oasis.
I promised myself to enjoy these moments. Why would I leave so soon? I can't even see the clearing now.
The mushroom embraced him, cuddling him so tightly that it blocked out the light.
I've never heard of such a loving plant? What is this? He asked Wendy.

SleeperShroom (Greater) - Rank 25

Full of pain? Regret? Trauma? Make it all go away in a SleeperShroom. These stationary beings are planted throughout the dungeon and offer a loving embrace in your final moments. Known in certain cultures as mind healers, SleeperShrooms release a powerful toxin that removes all emotional damage. Helping to relax their prey before slowly digesting them for several seasons.
There are more notes here. Hhmmm lots of detailed findings on experimenting with their toxins for remedies and elixirs. Trials went poorly due to losing too many researchers. Results recommend relabelling them as DeathBeds along with warning; avoiding their gills at all costs.

DeathBeds? I work with death. Pools must have created them for me. No wonder we fit so well together.
No, no, no. Shut up and listen you little idiot. It's tricking your mind. The toxins have infected you, making you believe you're happy while the shroom dissolves your body. You have to get out.

Moss rolled over, tucking himself deeper into the gills. He didn't like the way she was speaking to him. It reminded him of his old Chronicler.

It's not like that Wendy. It's all love in here. You should come join me.
Focus, Moss. Concentrate on your cloth. Do you feel that? The burning sensation as its acids chew away at you.

The keeper half listened. He didn't want to hear her nasty words anymore. She was treating him like a grub. Ordering him around like every other monster did.
But Wendy's never been mean before. Why now? What did I do?
He couldn't work it out. His head was full of BunnyLambs and clouds. They mushed his thoughts into waves of joy. But Wendy had always looked out for him. So Moss pushed, and pushed through the warm love. As he got deeper, it got warmer. Then hot, so hot it started to sting.
The keeper felt his body burning.
Is it really eating me? I thought it loved me?
Get out you fool. Fight it, Moss. Fight it like the keeper you are!
Moss started to dig his claws in. But the tiny points weren't sharp enough to break the surface. The shroom fought him with more love, embracing him. Forcing Moss into the gills and covering him in the spicy juices.
He couldn't reach for his rubbish bag, not that he had any decent weapons in there.
"Oh Pools." He giggled. "I think I'm gonna die in a mushroom."
He still held the bone, which he tried to swing around but couldn't find the space. It felt like the leg bone of a goblin.
Moss laughed. "Ahaha I'm as stupid as a greenskin."
His cloth was burning so badly now that he almost gave in back to the happy place.
The keeper considered his new abilities. All of them were useless in this situation. But he did have loot now.
Moss pulled the ring of Silence out and pressed it against the shrooms side.
"A gift for my new love." He cooed to the SleeperShroom.
Nothing happened.
The goop created a thick layer, stopping the ring from touching. Moss pushed against it. He struggled with all his might, but it wasn't enough.
"Take my gift! I got it for you!" Moss yelled. He braced himself against the other side. Using the bone for purchase against the slippery surface.
Crack.
The leg bone cracked beneath his grip, giving him an idea. He placed the ring near the knee joint, then pushed the bone against the gills above him. With CorpseCarrier activated, the surface began to bow out. A cold draught washed over the keeper. A tiny slither of light breaking through the darkness.
It's workin-
Snap.
The shroom closed as the bone broke in half. The ring landed on Moss, having no effect. He pocketed it.
Well, I tried. At least I wasn't eaten by the HellHare or torn apart by demons. Moss thought. In his final moments, Moss went to his happy place. Imagining himself working beside his chainmates. Teasing Pittons, bantering with Franc, hearing Dill and Koles most recent adventures.
Life was good at work. Why didn't I just stay there?
He thought of his last shift, with the Unions orange messages. Then he puffed into the frame, Kai, he appeared in Moss's imagination.
Kai will be key forever and he'll waste it. Just like I wasted being the custodian and a QuestGiver. None of them even knew. I never got the chance to show them all how high a keeper could go. And now I'll sleep here forever in a fucking mushroom.
Moss tore through the loving embrace that wrapped his mind. He thought of the demons pissing on his mates. Being called a grub or HoodRat. Being told to clean up after a party or seeing his chainmates killed for fun.
"Aaaahhhhhh!" Moss stabbed up in frustration. "Fuck you shroom!"
He stabbed again and again. More of the spicy syrup fell, but he didn't care anymore. Moss just kept stabbing and stabbing.
Then sweetness landed on his lips. It was cold and delightful.
Wait a flicker.

 

[Chaperone]

He felt the gills, checking between the flaps until he found deep wounds. The keeper sank his claws causing the shroom to shudder as his venom took a hold. Then the DeathBed sagged open, rolling Moss onto the floor in a puddle of juices.
The keeper kept rolling away in the dirt. Laughing like a mad monster as his vision spun with the lights. It was fun, but also helped mush dirt into the syrup, which slowed the burning.
Eventually he landed in the clearing.
With a giggle and sigh he stood.
"I'm reborn!" He yelled into the canopy as muddy gloop dripped down his cloth.
Moss cleaned himself off with a few licks. His tongue was hardy enough to resist the corrosive matter. The keeper felt proud of his abilities, he'd used them effectively at work and in the wilderness. A feat he'd managed through sheer will and the help of his Chronicler.

Thank you Wendy. I don't know how I can repay you for all this help. I think I love you as much as I love Pools.
A loud trumpeting echoed through the keeper's head as she laughed.
Let's not bring the Core into this. But I'll take you up on that offer one shift.

Moss couldn't remember what he'd said inside the SleeperShroom. It felt like his vision in the well. Warped - yet real.
He looked back at the DeathBed, which gaped open like a giant's mouth after too much grog.
You were a wonderful bed, but I don't have the wax to nap. But don't worry my loving shroom, I'll be back - with a clear head and an axe. Moss silently promised it.
His clean cloth looked frayed at the edges, stained in areas, but the damage it had caused was minimal. According to Wendy it took seasons to digest its prey fully. Now Moss was free, he could enjoy the toxins without worrying for his life. His stress and anxiety were gone. Leaving him in a surreal state of sleepiness, as if he hadn't woken up fully and wasn't certain if this was all but a dream. Even the Doul seemed to be slumbering now. He needed to find a way of anchoring himself back to the dungeon.
One of Tink's slaps would work. Or a RustyNail. No, I don't need anyone or anything. I'm already feeling better.
"Hey kid." A small toad landed on a shroom next to him. Its round body only reached up to Moss's knees, making him wonder whether it was a monster or critter.
"Me?" Moss asked, looking around in a daze. Maybe I do need help.
A carpet of hair ballooned from the toads throat as it spoke. "Who else? Listen, you see down there." The toad nodded to a gloomy path. It was dark, like an alleyway, with only a single fungus flickering at the end. "There's a princess down. She's in trouble, deep trouble. Ya gotta save her."
"But… I'm a monster." Moss pointed out. "I think."
"Yeh, so's she. Got fangs and the attitude of one anyway. Go on, she needs your help."
The keeper took another look. Shapes moved around in the shadows. A plume of smoke blew out from a burning ember.
"No thank you. I've gotta go to work." Moss told him and headed in the opposite direction.
The toad yelled after him. "Come on kid. It's just a side quest. Wanna see if you got the claws for it."
A deep growl followed, sending Moss flying. The sound tickled a memory through his muddled mind, but instinct had overtaken him. Even intoxicated, Moss was in survival mode.
"Go! Go!" A deep voice commanded from the shadows.
But the keeper was already running. For once, he was glad to be so small. As he could duck and weave through the gaps in the undergrowth.
The Trenches are wild. Dill and Kole would love this. He'd always liked the beautiful lights and colourful displays on the Third floor. They whizzed by in crazy patterns, swirling and pulsing with his beating heart.
But after this shift he would always remember the ugly world they hid from sight.
Side quests was a term you'd never hear from a dweller, only a WildOne. These were the lawless monsters in the depths of the dungeon. Those that lived outside of Pool's gaze and treated the world as their own. The parts they wandered at least. Rogues in a sense - at least the gnolls and demons would punish them the same. But they didn't work against the order of the society Moss lived in. Just ignored it.
The keeper was focused on solving his own home's problems, not dealing with the pests and parasites that nipped from the sides.
The foliage thinned out as the ground turned rocky. Moss pushed through to land on a hard shelf, with the Abyss stretching out before him.
It was like looking into a starless sky. An endless darkness that promised a terrible end if you managed to fall in. Moss wasn't going to let that happen. Having barely survived the dense fungal foliage of the third floor, he'd managed to reach the edge of the deep hole. Its rocky banks reminded him of the sides of the trenches, though little managed to grow here. He was thankful for the clear path as he scrambled towards a ledge. It jutted out and over the Abyss. It took him far too much wax to reach it, but at least the dancing light there gave him confidence he was in the right place.
Voices spilled over the sides as he climbed the final verge. His claws reached the edge and pulled himself up.
Only to see a large shape blocking the light. It crouched down close to him. A mask, made of a shield painted black, was strapped to the monster's head. Two holes were carved out so the yellow eyes of a HowlerBear could watch him. It gently took his arm and dangled him in the air, inspecting the keeper like a fresh slab of meat.
Her deep voice whispered to him. "Where do we unite and why?"
We unite here? At the Abyss? No, it's about the union. What did the message say?
Moss could only picture the orange crown in flames. But that wasn't what had brought him here. It was the parchment Gala had given him. But the simple text had escaped his mind. And the threat of the Abyss beneath him was sending him into a fray.
"Gala, can vouch for me. She-"
The mask shook from side to side. The HowlerBear's shoulder slumped. "I am sorry. We cannot risk an outsider."
Her arm extended out. Allowing Moss to see the other attendants. There weren't many, less than five chains worth. But all of them wore the masks - shields to hide behind. Because anyone could be in the shadows, watching.
"We unite behind shields because Pools is watching." Moss blurted out. "That's what the message said. Then it burned away."
He was gently placed on the ledge beside a pile of shields. Most of this could end up in his rubbish bag as junk. But the HowlerBear treated each item like it was a delicate jewel. She stacked the towershields to one side, then the roundshields until she found a small dish. A buckler, also black, with straps to fit around Moss's head.
He thanked her and tied it on as the HowlerBear rummaged through a barrel of light. It housed torches, fungal lanterns and crystal sticks. After looking between the keeper and the items, she decided upon a small twig with a glowing shard connected by a string. She fastened it to the side of Moss's mask.
"Welcome believer. Do not reveal yourself to any here and leave your weapons with me."
"I don't have any." Moss admitted. "Except these." He held up his claws.
She chuckled. "A keeper with jokes, how amusing. I must still check, empty your pockets."
Moss enjoyed having his feet on the ground and wanted to keep them there. So he unloaded his cloak in a heap - only treating Po with a gentle touch that she deserved.
The HowlerBear poked through his items with a long claw. Then tipped the bag of holding. Her head titled in wonder as several bones clattered on to the ledge.
"It's a rubbish bag. Work stuff."
"Hhmmmm." She picked up his ring. "You missed a piece."
The keeper smothered his grumble. He thanked her instead of pointing out its value. HowlerBear's leaned on the gentle giant side of monsters. Yet the giant monster could flick him off the edge and take his stuff if she wanted to.
"Food and rubbish" The HowlerBear said she finished her check. "No weapons."
"Po, isn't food. She was the daughter of… a legendary monster."
"I meant the LionsMane. Expensive tastes for a keeper."
LionsMane? Where did that come from?

 

[Chaperone]

Moss accepted his items without question. Though the additional mushroom perplexed him. Either he'd picked it up while travelling through the foliage or the toxins had warped his mind and he'd simply forgotten getting it. Either way the keeper had just acquired an incredible boon. It was only a segment of the yellow cap, yet he still caught the slight musky scent it was infamous for.
He scoffed it down like a starving RatKin, worried another might take his food. His body felt lifted, revitalising his stamina after the trek.
The HowlerBear chuckled again, then stepped back. "Now you have arrived, we can begin." She said and pointed him towards the others - as if he could get lost on the bare ledge face. It was like a giant keeper's tongue had been frozen in stone. Wide and long. Meaning the other monsters only took up a small section at the far end.
Moss wandered over to them. The worms of doubt wriggled inside as they watched him approach.
Yellow, red, blue and green eyes bore into him from behind the shields. Once he was close enough, he could see faces painted onto each. Angry snarls, sad pouts, despair and distress. All captured in orange paint.
A monster stepped out of the group to greet him. "Do not fret little one. The shields are for us, while the markings are for the Core. We may hide ourselves but our message shall remain." The monster said, taking his hand to lead him through the group and towards the ledge.
Moss was praying this wasn't like those cults Dill spoke of. Promising great power and freedom - but in the next life. There was always a 'sacred' passage full of wonder and potential. Usually in the form of a potion or an edible.
As he approached the far end, the full blackness of the Abyss came into view. It promised only a terrible journey.
He still held the kind monster's hand. As he got too close, she pulled him back from the brink.
"There's a saying about the Abyss. It's deep and troubling." She whispered to him.
Moss didn't want to appear dim, so he tried to remember. "When you look into the Abyss… it grows eyes or something."
She chuckled softly. "Not that heroic dribble. Dwellers say its depths are unknown to all, except the curious. We are here to solve the dungeons problems. Best not make that part of it."
"I agree." Moss said. Giving her hand a squeeze.
A spear banged on the stone.
"Welcome Believers." A tall figure said in the middle of the crowd. She was draped in a thick cloak to smother the fire beneath. But any dweller worth their fangs could tell her accent was demonic. And the maddness must have you in its grasp if you didn't notice the large horns that stuck out the side of her mask. She turned in a slow circle, drinking them all in. The painted face was of sorrow. An emotion he'd never associate with the warrior race. After gazing upon each individual, she spoke again. "I will be the Speaker this evening. This is our third meeting and I see we have some fresh Believers. It's tradition that newcomers explain what brought them here. But do not feel obligated, we do not make demands of followers. Unlike the Core." The Speaker laughed, along with the crowd at the comment. "Ahaha. But if you would like to speak, then please move your lantern."
Moss didn't want any part of this bonding moment. The reason he was here would get him tossed off the ledge. So he'd have to lie, which meant relying on his meagre Wit while still feeling the DeathBed's toxins.
The dangling crystal bobbed about on the string. Moving more than he liked.
With his free hand, he cut the cord and pocketed the light source.
A RatKin, waving its torch around, was selected. It skurried into the light in the middle of the circle. Moss was amazed to see shiny strips of dyed leather and beads woven into its fur. Its garment shone in the torchlight. Shards of glass and polished metal were woven into the fabric. It was a dazzling sight. The rodent looked like a banner a raiding group would wave as they marched into the dungeon.
Strange choice for monster attending a secret meeting. Though it hasn't quite covered its mad marks. He thought, noticing the bare skin and scars over its body.
"I'm a Believer.' The RatKin said.
"We are Believers." The crowd replied.
"We lives in the grim confineds of the Maze. Grey, brown and black surrounds us. My brothers and sisters smothers us in the nests. But why? Why does it have to be this ways? I want more from the dungeon Core. I wants to be seen for who I am."
"Hear hear." The Speaker called out in support, along with the crowd. Even Moss managed a little squeal. Emphasizing with the Ratkins' views, for he was the same amongst his kind.
"I wants to shine." The rodent continued to applaud. "I wants to be pretty."
The crowd died to a murmur.
"We drapes ourselves in muck and rot. Ugly colours that Pool's deems right. And yet the heroes get to wear gold and silvers and bronze. They can be themselves. Wear exotic furs of distant beings. Weave jewellery in their hairs, both prince and princesses alike. I wants to shine. I wants-"
The Speaker stepped forward, cutting him off.
"I hear you Believer, but the Core doesn't dictate what you look like. That is still your choice."
"It is?" The rodent asked.
"Of course. No monster cares, along as you do your job. Commit to your role in our dungeon cycle. This meeting is about the demand of the workers, in relation to their position and our lack of rights."
"Oh… well, I don't really cares about that. I just wants to look nice."
"Right." The Speaker signalled to another in the crowd.
The HowlerBear speared the RatKin through the back and heaved him into the air.
"I have no issues with this monster's desires." The Speaker stated. "I myself enjoy painting the warbanners of my race. But we have been brought together for one reason." She worked her way around the circle while the Ratkin squirmed. "To unite in our struggles. To rid ourselves of slavery. To break the chains of our ascent. To overthrow the Core and retake our dungeon."
The speared monster was tossed over the ledge and into the Abyss.
"Unfortunately at this candle, we can only trust a few. Our message is felt by the many, but agents of the Core are among our ranks. Any details must be treated as treasure and protected."
Moss tried not to react. He wanted to chew his claws, or run. But he had to convince himself he belonged or he'd soon follow the pretty rat.
I wouldn't mind killing Chow. She, sort of, represents the Core. Just focus on that. Fuck Chow, fuck Chow, fuck Chow.
Another dweller stepped forward in a lumbering gait. As tall as a DarkPine yet no branches sprouted from behind the mask. Moss thought he'd revived all monsters in the dungeon, but this one was a mystery.
"Alone." She said with a bitter sadness. "Useless. That's what I am. A monster with no purpose since the fall of Hells. They say he stepped down but I know the truth. That's why I was shunned, pushed to the outskirts to toil alone. My family died on the Sixth, leaving me with no one. A monster without a job can't be rewarded. So they'll never give me the Lover'sFruit. I'll never have younglings again, my race will die with me. Forgotten in the burnt wick." She whimpered. Folding in on herself to cry. The Speaker stepped forward, awkwardly patting her back until she recovered.
"It wasn't always like this." She snapped like a wind in fury. "The Flow belongs to each of us. Controlled by none and owned by all. We could decide when to have a family, choose our lovers and grow together. But the Core hated it, it took power from her…"
Is this true? Moss wondered. Did Pool's take that away from the dwellers? Is this why my Flow was restricted?
The keeper's thoughts had trailed off while the monster finished her speech. The Speaker thanked her and led her back to the group.
"Another who knows our pain. Who feels the chains that weren't always there." The Speaker announced.
'The wool is soft for a reason'. Is this what the Oracle was talking about?
The group murmured and growled in response. But before she could continue, the growls grew louder and louder.
Moss gasped. That noise, I just heard that in the fungal forest.
Frightened, he squeezed the old monster's hand.
"It's okay, they're just excited." She whispered to him.
"No. I know that-" Moss cut himself off, trying to remember.
He'd heard it before meeting the toad offering side quests.
Back in the woods, during my shift when I was with-
"Holy Pools." The keeper said to the old monster. "We need to run."
Blood sprayed his mask. The darkness whistled around him.
The old monster lifted her claws in shock. Feeling the side of her throat where the arrow struck. Blood gushed from her mask as she tried to speak.
Moss cried into the Abyss. "Guards!"

 

[Chaperone]

Chaos consumed the meeting as monsters tried to escape. More arrows flew through the darkness. Fired from the fungus at the trapped Believers. Bodies hit the hard stone, their masks falling off and tumbling over the side. Protecting nothing in their final moments.
The old monster collapsed next to Moss.
"It's okay." He whimpered. "I'll revive you." The keeper held her head, offering whatever comfort he could.
Her mask was gone, revealing the grey Furry beneath. She rasped and struggled for breath. Her throat spasmed until Moss licked the puncture and sealed the wound.
"Is that better?"
She nodded, but continued to spew blood.
"To me!" The Speaker commanded, trying to grasp order in the mayhem. But not all monsters were protectors. The gnolls advanced from the shadows, spears and claws at the ready. More arrows were fired, hitting any with a light attached to them.
"Drop your torches!" The Speaker cried.
A hand gently took Moss's head. The old Furry brought him close.
"It's our… dungeon. Tell them… all."
Her head fell limp in his arms. Moss didn't even know her name.
Believers were stepping over him now. The group was being forced back, towards the Abyss.
The gnolls had formed a wall, allowing no way passed. They crept forward, skewering the remains of any monsters. Several screamed out as they died. A few were thrown over the side and into the depths. Arrows continued to sail over the top of their shields.
One slammed into the old monster, almost pinning Moss. He wasted no wax, sinking his claws in and licking her into a ball. Giving him a shield to hide behind. A Furry saw what Moss had done and dragged over two bodies.
"Build another for me?" He demanded.
"Aahhh, I'm not dead." One of the bodys, a fat HowlerMonkey, cried out in pain.
"Hells bells." The Furry tore his throat out. "Good to go."
Moss didn't hesitate. A cornered monster was more dangerous than a mad one.
The remaining Believers formed up behind the makeshift defences. Missiles skimmed around the sides as the gnolls looked for targets.
"Why did we leave our arms? You've killed us all!" A Howler snapped at the demon.
The Speaker smacked him across the face. "We are monsters and you will die as one. A glorious death!" She yelled, then guzzled a blue potion and shattered the vial. "We make our stand here."
Easy for you to say with your demon abilities and expensive mana potions.
Moss had no intention of fighting. He was shocked to find himself more angry than afraid. These Believers complained about work conditions when they have it so much better than the common keeper. He wasn't going to die a martyr for their entitled cause. But he wouldn't have a choice in a few flickers. He couldn't tell how many guards there were, but they clearly outnumbered the Believers.
Why aren't they rushing us?
The gnoll line had halted in the darkness. The rear guard were smothering any light source left behind. Tossing the dead on the flames or stamping out crystals.
Do they fear the flames? No, they are enforcers. Trained to fight heroes and demons alike. So what is it?
"Get ready. We shall rush them on my signal." The Speaker commanded. Forming her own line to face the hidden gnolls.
Hidden, that's it. They're scared of being seen. They don't want their den to be identified in case of a backlash from Queenie.
Moss tugged at the Speaker's cloak. She turned, almost stepping on him with her hooves, only to glare at him. "Hide behind another, grub."
"They're scared!"
"So they should be." She clicked her neck and readied her horns.
"No. They're hiding themselves in the darkness! Look!"
Moss reached into his pocket for the shard of crystal. He tore a strip of fur from the boulder to wrap it in, then tossed it. With his improved Might from touching the dead, it flew across the ledge to land a few keepers from the line.
Her scowl slowly melted into confusion as a guard broke away. He rushed forward, shield held high, to stamp out the light.
The Speaker shook her head. "I see bastard mutts in a shield wall." She spat. "My legion would do the same. Their dens trained them well."
Banish my soul. No one ever listens to us.
"Well trained, yet it just left its pack. When have you ever seen a gnoll hide their fangs or not scream their den's name? They don't want any witnesses pointing them out later." Moss finally had her full attention, but went the extra lick to seal the matter. "Queenie always gets those that oppose her and the gnolls know it."
Moss thought of the Oracle being hunted in the Oasis. He hated to admit it, but Queenie's presence was growing and the dungeon was feeling her reach.
"I shall burn them all." The Speaker said, reaching for her cloak.
"Wait! Wait!" Moss yelled, jumping in front of her waving his claws so his UnseenRunt didn't activate. "You're the only demon here. We need your fire."
A silent command went out amongst the guards. They advanced.
Moss slapped the ball of old monster. "I'll start rolling them first, then unleash Hell."
The Speaker's nostrils flared. Whether from the soft jab or being instructed by a keeper, Moss couldn't tell. As he heaved the boulders forward, the Speaker ordered the other monsters to copy him with the remaining balls.
A fire bloomed in the demon's throat as her jaw extended. A plume of DemonFire roared towards them. Moss anticipated this, he was used to demons treating him like muck, and dived out of the way in time.
The other monsters weren't so aware. Their fur erupted along with the boulders, adding to the blaze that rolled towards the gnolls.
The guards shielded their faces from the sudden light, blinding them for a flicker.
"Charge!"
The Believers chased after the fireballs. One ball fell off the ledge, another was allowed to pass in an open gap, while the third hit them with force. The Speaker had rammed this one at the last moment. Careening it straight into their numbers.
Screams and shouts followed as a skirmish broke out.
Moss didn't waste any wax watching. He was already over the side of the stoney tongue, climbing across with his claws. It wasn't curiosity that brought him this close to the Abyss, but sheer will to survive. This was the second time this shift he was happy to be so small. No one noticed a little monster disappearing from a fight. They focused on the big ones.
Stones showered the keeper as two monsters scuffled overhead. He climbed down lower, hiding his body in the natural shadows of the rocky face. Soon the Furry was tossed over the side. Screaming as they plummeted into the Abyss.
Moss froze. The guard peaked over to check. Its eyes were a dark orange. Their fur was light, almost sandy. The keeper didn't know each den in the Whispering Pools, but after seeing Fangor up close, he could tell the differences in their appearance.
Moss wasn't about to spread this for all to hear. He was a believer, but only in himself and his race. Queenie's Union could all fall in the Abyss for all he cared.
If she wants to know which den to kill, she better pay well.
The guard snapped around to join the fighting. Leaving Moss to climb back to the fungal foliage. He looked back from the undergrowth as a fiery figure crushed a guard with her horns. The Speaker's cloak was gone now, her burning sides lit up the Third floor's eternal night.
"A glorious death!" She screamed as spears punctured her side.
Moss didn't wait for the rest. He had a quest to finish.
The information he'd gained from the meeting would do, but he'd also learnt how dangerous of a journey this was. The keeper needed more than a cheap ring and keeper abilities to survive. He needed to find the temple of Death and the DeathRelics contained within.
He set off, heading for the Sixth floor.

 

[Chaperone]

BalKor split the old Furries chest open, prying back her ribs to claim the heart. As LeadClaw of the SunBacks, this was his right.
A rogue's heart isn't worthy of the wells.
He crushed it before his brethren. Their arms raised high in celebration, yet they remained silent.
BalKor bared his fangs in rage. Not at his gnolls but at those that held their leash.
We do this for you Pools, bloody and proud. We fear no dwellers, no demons. Yet we must muffle our howls and act as pups. How can a guard stand and protect, while they pretend they're denless and wild? How can we enforce her laws, when action must be taken in the shadows? Must we act like rogues to hunt them?
Blood dribbled down his arm, marking his fur with the sin of a traitor. He tossed it into the Abyss, where the remains of the other Unionists followed.
Leaving only one. The Lesser's wrath held strong, even as her burning body dwindled.
Spears skewered her flank, held by gnolls that weren't afraid to twist if she moved or spoke out.
BalKor had many orders. Keeping the Speaker alive was one of them.
Rogues shouldn't be allowed to spread their curses, their lies. Only in the pyres should they speak such deceit.
But still they waited. Unwavering in their discipline as taught by their den.
Waiting for the Core representative - the inquisitor.
Finally he arrived.
Part of their orders was in regard to this monster. Failure to follow instructions would be met with immediate removal.
BalKor had chosen his troop of gnolls due to these exact lines.
Do not look upon the inquisitor.
Do not impede the inquisitor's work.
Do not question the inquisitor.
Follow all orders given by the inquisitor.
Acknowledging or informing upon the inquisitor's identity, race and appearance will result in immediate removal of the offender and their family.
As LeadClaw, BalKor was given special permission to bear witness to the interrogation and offer assistance when necessary. He had also been notified of a secret signal to help recognise the Core representative. As the monster left the fungal forest, it snapped its claw into the air.
BalKor returned the gesture and clicked his fingers. Each gnoll cast their gaze upon the ledge, suddenly finding the rocky outcropping interesting.
Only the LeadClaw remained vigilant, watching over the area for disturbances or violations from his own troops. He was an unquestioning sentry on the outside. While his mind began to doubt the validity of his orders.
Silence hung over them. No congratulations nor acknowledgement was given to his troops as the monster approached. This was about duty, not reward.
Then the demon laughed as the inquisitor stepped into her light.
Balkor tensed, smothering his natural reaction.
Disciple and order. He reminded himself.
The Core representative regarded the demon like it was a drunk goblin, questioning whether killing it was worth the mess.
"You are done and dust." The inquisitor stated. "Removal is guaranteed, whether that is glorious will depend on what you have to say."
BalKor clicked and the gnolls twisted their spears.
The demon didn't howl or cry. She spat blood at the monster instead, snarling through clenched teeth.
The inquisitor put his claws behind his back and started pacing. "I'll go first. Brimstones forges are darkening the Fourth like never before. Demons, as our protectors, only craft for one industry and since nothing has left those gates on the back of a SailWagon or in the middle of the night, we can assume Queenie is keeping it all. This, we know."
The demon laughed, grinning at BalKor. "This? This is who leads you?"
The inquisitor stopped.
BalKor struggled to hold her gaze as his pride crumbled. To look away was to admit defeat. Yet this is wrong. How can his kind make orders?
Through sheer will he killed his doubts, believing in the wisdom of his Core and glaring back at the demon's challenge - and distracting himself in the process.
One of his gnolls seized the chance, lifting his head slightly to glance at the inquisitor.
"Aaaaahh." The Demon screamed as a spear was wretched free and impaled the guard. Taking him through the chest.
None reacted as their brother squirmed on the end of the weapon. No one spoke as he was tossed like a rogue into the Abyss.
The Inquisitor stepped close to BalKor, wiping his claws clean on his fur and then dismissing the remaining guards with a wave. The spears were dropped without question. The gnolls, heads down, marched towards the fungal forest.
BalKor went to follow, but was signalled to remain. Questioning eyes regarded the gnoll for a flicker before returning to the Speaker.
"I know Queenie has been experimenting with HolyRelics. They were smuggled from the Quarter to Brimstone during raids. She now has enough stored away to arm a full legion."
The Speaker's glee from the gnolls' death melted away with each word. Returning to her defiant glare.
Demons, always demanding glory until the end. Arrogant creatures.
"This is a false tale." She spat out.
BalKor stepped back as a red light bloomed across the ledge. It snapped into existence like a waking fiend opening its eye. Exuding strength and demanding respect.
A crimson crest had formed behind the inquisitor's head. The LeadClaw had heard tales of this as a youngling in the den.
Heroes called it the devil's crown. Claiming they were halos of power, stolen from the Divine, then corrupted to create nightmares.
Monsters just called them Elites.
The demon cowered before the crest. Showing fear and… respect.
Cattle will bleat and blowfire, but show them a big set of horns and they'll bend like the rest.
The inquisitor Elite leaned close to her. "Do not lie to me." He whispered. "She will stand on your remains to reach the top, never once looking down."
"No. It's Pools that abandons us." The demon whimpered. "Just as Queenie always said she would. A ghoul roams our floors, slaughtering dwellers. And what does Pools do? Nothing. The protectors will be blamed and the scrips will stop flowing. Then the Core will strike. When we are starving and weak. Just as my Queen foretold." She spoke with brooding fury even as her fires died. Her flesh darkened like the cold stone beneath her - the part not covered in blood. The demon wavered in a ghostly wind. Struggling to keep her eyes open. "War is coming. But… when?. When… it does, the dungeon will stand with… us."
The Speaker fell forward into the Elites claws. He caught her horns as he looked on. Lost in the depths of the Abyss for a flicker. Deep in thought.
"When?" He repeated to himself. "Her only threat. Interesting."
The horns cracked beneath his grasp as he squeezed, then twisted.
"They haven't made progress with the HolyRelics." The Elite stated as he handed BalKor her head. "Otherwise, she would have threatened with that. Clean this mess."
His troops turned away as the Elite departed into the fungal forest. A few steps in and the red crest winked out. Shrouding them in darkness.
BalKor looked into the glossy eyes of the demon. He saw belief. Belief in her own words, right till the end.
Why has Pools done nothing?
His troop reached him.
"What are your orders, LeadClaw?" One asked.
He handed the head over.
"Toss her with the others." He said, rubbing his eyes and trying to clear his head. "Before she spreads her rogue curse further."


***


The lead CriticalTerritory observer glared at her subordinate.
"Performance?"
"Dropping, Mam." He squeaked.
"Rotten bark! Quota output has dipped for several shifts. This is unacceptable." She gripped the white stone around her necklace for strength.
A strange choice of decoration for one of her status.
"Agreed. Seasonal records suggest a probable full recovery with the heightened heroic input before Hallowed Eve. Assuming The Whispering Pools counters its reduced work ethic and infestation. I believe the latter to be the main source of product interference." The low observer stated.
"Explain."
He had to smother an excited chitter. Troubled times bloom opportunity.
'Always be ready', his father would say. 'Fill the stash and another, have more for the plunder. Rely on one ante, the young become your pantry.'
"OverSeer performance had been called into question far before first sighting. Individual floors were showing decreased output at the end of last season, while anti-Core discussion and illegal enhancer trade rose. Yes, this grew rapidly post infestation and furthermore after the Quarter's closure, but the trajectory was already set." He stood tall, tail held high to command the branch and get his point across. "This far exceeds any previous infestation on record. Never before has a dungeon suffered such dire product loss. We mus-
"Silence!" His superior snapped. "Your professional speculation in conjunction with factual figures and reports is appreciated. However, I will not have my observers offering their opinions based on raw emotion like a blabbering WoodPidgeon. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Mam."
"Good. Now, what facts do we have from the field."
"Ghoul sighting on the Sixth. Confirmed by several CriticalTerritory Observers. Superb decision to increase their numbers on the floor, Mam."
"Fluff my tail on your time observer."
"Sorry, Mam."
She considered his report of the ghoul, lost in thought.
A strong wind blew over them. Below, the thick mist shrouded all to see.
Every observer was out in the field.
No one will know, I could push her. Here. Now. Then who-
"I bit a hero's hand once." She said without looking up. "They call it the little finger, yet it helps wield their great weapons. The raider cried like a banished wraith."
He cleared his tiny throat. "Why… why are you telling me this Mam?"
She finally glanced at him. A sardonic glint in her black eyes. "That was the last person who underestimated me. What chance do you have?" She said, holding the necklace once again. He saw it now. It wasn't stone but bone. The hero's finger bone.
She stood over him, tail bushy and proud. "The FakeMonarch doesn't have the horns to make her move. We shall request additional enhancers from the Core to 'encourage' the work force. And reduce supplies to the Fourth floor. Then she will start to understand her place on the tree. I want a full written report for the DRE in two candles."
"Yes, Mam." He whimpered. Feeling defeated.
"Add an additional section 32B form to request expert field Monstrologists. Then we shall have spread out our hoard and you won't go jumping on any FurHunters traps."
Warmth spread through him. He saluted her with excitement. "Yes, Mam!"
"And remember, junior CriticalTerritory Observers that want to climb the tree do not run their own reports through ForgerRunes. Understood?"
"Yes, Mam. I wouldn't even consider it." He said.
Why can't I? I paid for the rune. The prompts are my original ideas. It's like I wrote it myself anyway. How else will I do it in two candles? Time efficiency is respected in the Dominion. She'll see, she'll be dodging my droppings from the high branches in a few seasons.
She removed a scroll from her hidden fur pocket. The seal was stamped with the SupremeSeer's mark of office. Her claws lingered on it as she pondered. "I have done a daft thing." She chittered to herself.
He cleared his throat, reminding her that he was there.
His superior turned to him with doubt in her dark eyes.
"Would you do anything for the dungeon observer? Even if it seemed… wrong?" She asked.
She's conferring with me? The Core shines on me this shift. But is this a test? What does she want me to say?
"I would do anything, Mam. Anything to return projections back to a positive output."
"Yes." She nodded. "When the storms rage through and we're blinded and blown from our path. Any guiding hand is better than none. Otherwise we could be climbing on rot without knowing."
The observer pointed at the seal. "Is this in regards to the SupremeSeer, Mam? Is she… well?"
Only top branch saw the Supreme, taking special notes and orders. But few had come out of her Dominion Archive in several shifts. Seeing one again brought confidence to the Observer.
The leaders still commanded, the Core have faith in them and us.
His superior forced a laugh. "Do not waste wax worrying about our Supreme. That is my role."
"Shall I deliver that message for you, Mam?"
"No." She tucked it away again. "It's in relation to the inquisitor's request to leave. I will do it myself. So scurry off before I send you to Brimstone."
"Yes, Mam." He said, running away like death was swooping low.
They'd lost many observers in the Sands recently. The demons had grown wise to their presence, spelling doom for any operators in the Dominion of Records that were caught.
Maybe I should consider a transfer. My nest will suffer, but do they want a father or scrips? It's no longer safe being a CritTer.

 

[Chaperone]

Moss skulked like a rogue through the Sixth floor. Technically he was at this stage. He'd skipped his shift and attended the Believers meeting. His only defence was the QuestGiver token.
I should probably check it's not a fake. But triggering the symbol above his head was the opposite of stealth. Which he had to maintain throughout the restricted Sixth floor.
Its usual entrance was hidden in the mists of the Watcher's Woods. Placed so both hero and monster struggled to find it. Only the kobold merchants that drove the SnailWagons knew the way. They brought supplies from the lower floors that they traded for local produce and scrips. Moss had briefly spoken to one on his way through, picking up a stamina potion and hoping to use the main path. The kobold took his scrips and then laughed in his face. Leaving the keeper no choice but to use his newly discovered route. Back up the waterfall and along the river with the purple runed totems. This led him safely through the Fields of Passage and into a new world.
It was a wonder of the Flow. The floating chunks of land above fields of grass and statues.
They were everywhere, all shapes and sizes and species. Most he couldn't name due to ignorance but also the slag that covered their frames diminished any features. Just limbs, weapons and the occasional spell captured in solid rock. Brilliant art, highly discouraging to any would-be-invaders.
Could have at least faced them the right way though.
They all seemed to point inwards, towards the main gateway to the 7th floor and the Core.
A minor shadow blocked out the tranquil blue sky and one of the two stars shining overhead. A chunk of earth floated there, suspended as if the dungeon's ground was not good enough to lay upon. Like another army in the sky, rocks boulders and parts of buildings floated above.
It gave Moss many shadows to choose from, and with his UnseenRunt boon he was practically a part of the darkness. Only when he was completely still. Like a PygmyMouse, he scampered between hiding places. Feeling watched.
Eventually spotting the castle upon the hill that his friends had mentioned. Moss sprinted beneath a giant golem, its bulky frame making up a decent hiding spot for the tiny keeper to survey for danger. He skulked along the huge monster's arm's, frozen at the end of a swing. A golem sized PickAxe offered the last hiding spot, its head disappearing into the ground. Strange place to mine, thought the keeper as he made for the castle.
Tink wasn't exaggerating when he described this place. The walls were lined like tower shields. Their watchtowers reached for the sky like the points of a colossal crown. Whoever built this place was expecting to war against mighty weapons. Not the meagre contraptions that heroes rolled into the dungeon. Those petty WarCrafts couldn't get past walking trees. This castle was built to fend off DragonHeralds and SkyWhales.
But was it his 'Temple of Death'?
The nagging doubt in Moss was difficult to ignore. He summoned his key before the gates and slotted it into the keyhole. Initially it resisted, the rusty sides fighting him. But the monsters weren't giving up. He pulled a leg bone from his rubbish bag. Licking the end, he attached it to create a lever. Then licked the rest to reinforce it against his CorpseCarrier ability.
With a grunt, the keeper heaved. Sparks shot out at the metal grinded. The key turned.
"Yes!" He yelled. "Yes, yes yes-"
Snap*
"No, no no!" Moss screamed in dismay.
The custodian's only key to his place of work, his new found responsibility, broke in half. He unstuck the end attached to the pole and tried to reconnect it in the lock. Even when he licked it the other half still wouldn't come out.
Banish my soul, I better not have broken it.
The keeper was about to dismiss it into ash, when he noticed the symbols at the end. Where the wielder's hand would turn the key was intricately flowing embellishment around a wing.
I should look for a match.
Moss pocketed the broken key and marched around the daunting castle, seeking a clue or another entrance. But found nothing.
As he considered his options, he scaled a SnailWagon sized statue for a better view. Struggling all the way since they were made from a dark glass and not stone as he had first thought.
His new vantage only succeeded in killing his hope further.
It doesn't even look like a temple. Hell, it looks more like a small city than a castle.
The Flow had shown him a vision in the well. The keeper remembered a ruin of stone and glass windows. It had radiated with a subtle power contained within, unlike the walls and towers before him. These were supposed to be seen from the other side of the floor. This was a symbol of strength, not worship.
Defeated, Moss left. By the time he reached the golem, he'd decided to forget about his chapel.
The Flow showed me once before. It will happen again and I'll find the door when I'm meant to.
I just need to be-
The breeze ruffled his cloak, carrying a warm air and the sound of hooves.
Demons. The orange of their flame was everywhere. A whole troop spread out and marched through the Sixth. It didn't matter if he'd been invited to Queenie's Union meeting. This floor was off limits to him and the demons. Lessers, who liked to kill keepers for fun.
He wasn't going to bet his life on his UnseenRunt in the golem's shadow alone. Not with the legionnaires heading straight for him. With nowhere to hide, he peaked into the pit created by the PickAxe. In the darkness, he could just make out the bottom. The steep sides and odd colouring gave him reason to hesitate. But not for long.
"ThirdHorn to the Citadel! Find the Ghoul!" The command went out.
And Moss went over the edge.
He tried to slow his fall. His claws tearing at the sides, but they found no purchase. It was flat and smooth like the glass statues. The keeper tumbled down. The earth ate him up like the mouth of a great beast.
He hit the bottom with a splash. A shallow puddle and soft floor had cushioned his fall. But the keeper was more alarmed about the familiar smell that surrounded him. The stench of his craft - the dead.
They filled the pit. Limbs, wings and other parts jutted out of the bloody stew like reeds in the Oasis. Moss searched the floor with his claws. Feeling all manner of monsters and heroes in all directions. He had no clue how deep it went, but the body count to fill it wall to wall was staggering.
No wonder the keepers aren't getting much work. This is where all the missing dead have gone. But what brought them here?
Moss found a large pelt. Sinking his claws into the meat beneath, he was able to tear the fur away in one large strip. Then wrapped it around his blue cloth. Leaving a small gap to see through. The golem's head glared down into the pit, its silent scream offering little comfort. The flicker of demon fire licked the edge, followed by several sets of horns. Their guttural voices echoed down from above..
"Stinks of a poor death."
Her comrade spat down. "Petty monsters are meant for the wells."
The wells.
It was so obvious that Moss had simply looked past it. It wasn't a pit but one of Pool's magical wells. He felt a tad stupid for not realising that he sat inside the most crucial tool of his profession.
Maybe that is why it's full of the dead.
The demons leaned deeper in. Sniffing the air.
"This is the ghouls' work." The demon said.
His comrade grunted. "No wonder Queenie wants it alive. A warrior like that will make the Core weep."
"Move out!" A command rang out from a far.
"Burn it." Ordered another near the well's edge.
Pools help me.
Panic gripped Moss. It watched him with deep crimson eyes from the golem's mouth.
The Lesser's throat glowed with a blazing light.
Moss felt his doom approaching but couldn't tear his eyes away.
It's real.
The fiend emerged from the golem's mouth. Its head rotated like an OwlBear's as it watched the demons. Then it dropped like a boulder.
Splattering the blazing Lesser.
"Ghoul!" Screamed a demon.
The clash of metal and screams assaulted his soul. Blood rained down the well. Lessers bleated as their fiery parts were tossed across the wells opening. As they were slaughtered.
But Moss didn't watch, he dug. Clawing through flesh. Licking parts and stacking them around him.
VenomClaw has increased to level 9.
His head started to hurt as his mana drained away.
I'll build my own temple of death. No castle of death, that not even a ghoul can-
Pain spiked in his back. A headless body had fallen down, its hoof clipping his shoulder. The keeper cried out in pain and fear.
His screams echoed around him until it seized, revealing silence. The battle couldn't be over, there was a whole legion up there. His head snapped up to find its red eyes watching. Its hunch form hung over the lip, facing directly down.
Moss froze. This wasn't like the HellHare that killed with rage. This wasn't like the heroes that fought for glory and greed. There was no emotion in the ghoul, no movement.
It simply stared like a statue.
Allowing the keeper to see its grotesque form up close. Its limbs reached out further than a HowlerMonkeys. Making it overly long like a sapling that had been stretched by a giant. Claws spread out like swords on the end of its branches. Gore dripping off each.
But the real horror to Moss wasn't the parts that made it a fiend, but those he recognised.
A tattered cloak, torn and stitched all over, yet the same blue. Broad shoulders that framed the familiar shrouded head. Crimson spheres, he'd known his whole life, watched from the darkness of its hood. Its claws looked more like scythes, but were the same BoneWhite as his own.
It's a keeper… or it was. Ghoulishly warped and twisted, yet a brother of the cloth.
From behind the ghoul, appeared a demon. Blood ran from a broken horn. A gash had taken an eye, yet the warrior marched forward. Stabbing the fiend with a spear through the side.
No blood escaped, only a guttural moan of… pleasure?
The sadistic noise shook Moss more than anything else. He knew that moan.
"Pittons?" He whispered.
The moan turned into a screech. It swung backwards with impossible agility to finish off the demon.
Releasing Moss from his terrified state. He only had a flicker.
The keeper piled bodies around him, attempting to build a bunker once again. He knew it would do little to hold back those claws. But what choice did-
His cloak pocket hummed. Inside he found his broken key, forgotten after his attempt at entering the Citadel.
It trembled with the Flow as the end reformed.
It pulled towards his half formed wall of flesh, slotting into a slight gap and turning. The air cracked as a slither appeared. Releasing a fresh wind that rushed through the well, dismissing the humid stench of death into the sky above.
It billowed across the returned ghoul, ruffling its shredded and bloody attire. It screeched and leapt. Death plummeted towards the keeper.
Moss threw himself forward. Tearing the slither open into a door and crashing through the other side. With a frantic scramble he slammed the door shut. Blocking out the crimson eyes.
The eyes of a fiend that he once called friend.
Still shaking, Moss turned around as lightning crashed above him.
Lighting up a graveyard, with a ruined building in the middle.
I've found it.

 

[Chaperone]

Are you recording? Excellent.
Now, ensure you get every word. To the letter, you hear.
I'd hate to replace you, Torti. That would mean hiring another intern assistant for the third… no, fourth time this season. Which is far too much work, I can tell you. Had to have several meetings with my OverSeer, Dee, about it. Made me miss a night with the chaps. Which Monty hasn't stopped going on about. Absolute toss pot.
She's a real PygmySnake, that one. A BansheeLoc that could piss acid and sell it as NectarJuice with that ugly smile of hers. I know she's trying to replace me. Well strike your venom while you can, harlett. Not even Professor Stillwort could get rid of me. My stride is fierce. I leap at the promise of adventure, whether towards a frozen tundra or a Jackal's hidden lair. I'll go with a smile - and of course you Torti. We'll never be apart. Unless you fail me. In fact - side note this section for personal tasks - try to filter out the more difficult excursions in the future. If they seem like hard graft on paper, they'll certainly be worse in the wild. I mean this particular research endeavour is the most outrageous creature you've ever heard of. A ghoul. Absolute dribble if you ask me. Myths to scare those rural dwellers. Dim they may be, but certainly lacking a serious education. Not everyone gets to go to DarkMouth. Tuition ruins most families and guilds alone. Not to mention the entrance scrolls you must study and pass. Of course, Daddy being alumni means I didn't have to sit such petty papers. But it's necessary, keeps the plebs out. Speaking of plebs, where did you study Torti?
Really. Never heard of it. Sounds exotic.
It's in the Capital, you say. I've lived there my whole life and never heard of it being mentioned. Which district?
Oh gosh, that place. Me and the lads call it the Wilderness. Would sail overhead and see the most daft animals go about their lives. Was a real eye opener. Winston even visited a brothel there once, we made the poor bastard bathe in HighGrade CureAll. Who knows what hex or curses he picked up. Plus the smell, dreadful.
Monty's been begging his dad, who's the Mayor by the by, but you know that. He's been begging him for seasons to open the dams and give that place a real clean. Would make a great circuit to race our WhaleWyverns.
Pardon me?
Your whole family is there? Well, congratulations are in order. You've made it out and look at you now. An intern - for me.
And you're doing splendid work, I'll make sure you get a few scrips to cover any damages you may incur. So what can you tell me about these ghouls?
Yes, same for me sport. Just the odd stories my nanny would tell me before bed time. That old Howler knew how to tell a good story. Too bad she couldn't get the creases out of my VermontSilk scarf. Had her gone before my seventh Hallowed Night. Gosh she really let herself go at the end. Wailing and wailing. Funny how I remember her crying but not those great tales. Probably wasn't much to garner. Those outer city folk have some wonky beliefs. Like Ghouls, ahahah.
But of course, it must exist or the Dominion of Order wouldn't be sending us all the way to.... Wait, where are we?
The Whispering Pools.
Great Divine, that is truly awful.
Daddy was right, gone are the real creators of our realms. Roll on the seasons of grey and dull ideas. Seriously, who comes up with these names? I'm guessing they graduated from your school, Torti. Not a DarkMouth monster, I can tell you.
We deliver when called upon. Shame Dee can't see that.
Oh that reminds me. She wants me to start doing these ridiculous introductions. Oh where's my notebook. Here, you ready for this malarkey. She wants this part in quotes by the by.
"Here, in the fantastical frontiers of our world. I am attempting to find the elusive ghoul. Join me, Barnaby, monstrologist extraordinaire as I track down legendary creatures and capture them in ink. No floor, dungeon or realm will stop me, as I discover the unknown in my solo adventures."
Oh, and Torti. Make a note to redact any mention of you from the record. Wouldn't want my reputation getting tarnished if anyone went spelunking into my files.
Also, one last thing that that diabolical Dee mentioned was to note my actions. Like a scene. Capture the tone, the feel. It'll help immerse the readers.
I know, I know. We are both suffering together and yes, I could have mentioned it earlier. That's on me, old boy. Just start from now.
Barnaby pulled a packet of smokes from his leather waistcoat. He mumbled a comment on ebonys attracting unwanted attention in the wilds while he lit his darkstick.
The Drake breathed it in deeply. "If the worst was to happen. Then my survival is paramount. You understand? The Dominion was very strict on this. But also try not to get blood on the records."
Barnaby patted him on the head before pointing out a thicket of dense grass.
"Be a doll and cut us a path. This is genuine UnicornVeal leather. Such quality is hard to come by but as you know, fashion requires sacrifice. Mother will be a tad upset when she finds out. I think this one was her favourite. But cattle aren't pets and Barnaby needed a new look. So we can't let it crack from any moisture. I can not afford to be sweating right now."
The plant life was excessively cut back to meet the drake's standards. He checked his runepiece several times throughout the process. Choosing to comment on the candles they were wasting instead of helping.
The edges of the desolate floor soon came into view.
"Dam maintenance teams need to sort those back entrances. This is an absolute state. Look at all this vegetation. The pollen alone will ruin my outfit. Torti, hack those flowers back, they're too much of a threat."
"Sir, those are ArcaneShower bells. Highly sought after and extremely rare. They provide ingredients for several medicines, including the infamous Wooping plague. These are found only in Frontier floors. Shall I cut a path around them?" Torti proposed.
"An intern with a voice. Not an attractive quality to have. I said cut them back and less of that lip." Barnaby said, tossing his spent smoke into the undergrowth.
Torti didn't have lips being of TurtleDrake heritage. That was practically a racial slur. But a member of the SilverSpoon society would never recognise the offense.
His blade sliced through the endangered flower as they progressed into the clearing. Before Torti could step out, the Drake pushed passed.
"Once more into the frontiers." Barnaby announced aloud, with a claw held high. "I couldn't have done this without-" He turned, a glint in his dragon pupils. "- the Core's funding. Make sure we mention that several times. It'll encourage future spending."
The intern nodded with joy. He was in wonder at the beauty of the frontier floor. The sky was filled with chunks of earth, as if held by invisible hands. Statues of solidified monsters were scattered throughout the grassland. Their final moments were captured in obsidian forever.
The intern was mesmerised by the sight. This was his first excursion outside of the Capital, and what experience it was.
"Almost as big as Monty's garden." Barnaby scoffed. "His artwork is far more tasteful than this doom and gloom dribble. Where are the water features? The Nymphs? Is this even the correct floor?"
Torti scrambled through the report of scrolls until he found the right one. "Yes, Sir. Last sighting was noted on the Sixth floor, desolate zone."
"Slap my wand, we'll be out here in a few candles. Does it have the exact location?"
"No, Sir." Torti replied. "This may not be as easy as we'd hoped."
"Nonsense, we have the wind in our wings. Let's ride it while it's high. Suggestions?"
"Fantastical excursion handbook states we set up a campsite on high ground, using the natural landscape to diminish exposure to local weather patterns. From there we map the immediate local area into grids. Then systematically search each-"
"Look." Barnaby said, striding away "Natives."
"Sir, the handbook states-" But the drake was already marching away. His long legs taking him out of earshot - or he wasn't listening.
The intern gave chase, pumping his stumpy TurtleDrake legs trying to carry Barnaby's overpacked travel bag over the grass.
They'll have my shell if we break guidelines.
By the time Torti caught up, Barnaby was halfway through a conversation with the intern. Not realising he hadn't been there at all.
"...terrible with any foreign foods or concoctions. So I'm expecting you to step up and take those for the team. We can't appear to be rude with their local customs. These frontier cultures are always quirky, so expect lots of fluids. Blood, spunk, tentacle discharge, maybe some tears. We definitely don't want to be offending any tribal laws. Daddy always said polite society transcends all economic and social classes. That means I'll do all the talking. Don't need you scaring them with your Wilderness slang. But I don't want to see that quill of yours stop. More notes, more details. I might use it for my biography… and the ghoul paper, of course." They finally reached the native monster.
A goat race with a touch of fire elemental. It wore layers of stacked leather plates that had bleached under the constant heat. Its twisted horns tilted towards them as it took a wide stance. Smoke billowed from flared nostrils. Torti's years of study in Monstrology told him these were potential signs of either courtship or aggressive intentions. Both bad.
The intense grip on the goat's spear further reinforced this point. However, Barnaby hadn't asked for his opinion. The intern was confident the experienced adventurer would recognise these signs.
"Hello to you, fellow resident of the Whimperring Puddles. I come from far away lands that are unimportant. Bequeath us with the local knowledge that we seek and you shall be rewarded."
He presented a handful of scrips. This was recommended as a last resort by the handbook. Not only did the main guidelines offer several worthy tactics to try first but dungeon law actually prohibited them from making contact, unless completely necessary for research purposes or survival. Torti assumed Barnaby had assessed the situation and found this to be the only favourable way of completing their excursion. The intern had complete faith.
The fire smouldered across the goat's shoulders. "My Queen's honour is reward enough. Come with me and be blessed by her presence." He asked with surprising kindness considering the weapon pointed at them.
The adventurer chuckled before producing another handful of scrips. "Can you buy nice things with honour? Such virtues sound great until you want a hot meal or new curtains."
The goat's weird eyes examined the currency. Relaxing its grip.
Barnaby waved the scrips around as if hypnotising the native. "That's right. And there's lots more if you can tell us about the ghoul."
At the mention of their hunted monster, the goat flinched.
"You seek the ghoul?"
"Yes, I am an expert monstrologist looking to study its habits, weaknesses, behaviours, yada yada. The typical stat jargon for a highly noted body. I know what you're thinking, how boring right? Well I agree, but you wouldn't believe how well it pays. Risky business and all that. Plus the tales I can share around the old drinking-" Barnaby eyed the native. "-troughs. I'll have the lads cheering for more. And don't worry, old sport. I'll mention you and this Queen, she can be the comedy part. And I'll be her tragedy." The adventurer chuckled to himself. Unaware of his intern's shaking figure behind him.
More appeared from the shrubbery. Armed and burning.
"They know of the ghouls' weaknesses and have treasures to offer." The goat pointed at the researchers. "Take them!" He ordered.
"Wait, wait, wait… My Daddy will hear-" Barnaby started to say, pushing Torti in front.
But the flaming monsters overwhelmed them in an instant. Tying them down and tossing them on the back of a SnailWagon. They were sprawled out beside other locals. All terrified except for a small Bear child who giggled at their struggles.
"Look Mummy, more monsters for the feast."
Barnaby squealed. "Torti! They're going to eat me! Quickly, save me!"
"Sir, I'm also tied up."
"You are a terrible intern. I will have to let you go."
"Yes sir."

 

[Chaperone]

Moss crumbled to the floor. His tiny body panting like a baby SongBird after its first flight.
He felt the ghoul, it's eyes, it's claws. So close to shredding him like the rest of those dwellers in the well.
The keeper trembled as he checked his cloak for stitches. An old habit of younglings. It took most dwellers a few seasons to start acting like a monster. Moss never quite got there.
Picking himself off the cobbled path, he inspected the air where the door once stood. Nothing was left. Not a seem, not a whisper, not a hint that indicated the space had once been occupied. A gust of relief swept through him.
Then out again as lighting shot through the cloudy sky. Illuminating the new realm he'd entered. A graveyard, which appeared to resemble the first floor. The same blue grass consumed most of the area. But with the addition of thick bramble bushes that suffocated the gravestones and tombs. Even the pathway he stood on was made of a familiar stone. Worn down over the seasons. He bent down and inspected the only glaring difference. A dry moss grew in patches, its purple colouring matched the brambles.
The world lit up once again.
And it matches the lightning as well. Weird.
"We're not in the dungeon anymore." He whispered to his companions. Po in his pocket and the Doul on his shoulder. It was awake now. Silently observing the world with its warping eyes and crooked smile.
Moss thought he'd also be happy to find this place. Yet he only felt anxious, almost uncomfortable.
The air was humid with a sweet tinge that he'd never smelt before. Whenever his heart settled the lightning would explode above him, rattling his soul. The wall of brambles reached out with sharp thorns and deep shadows. Their flowers, also purple, drooped like rotten fruits in a forgotten orchard. He was tempted to ask Wendy to identify them in her records.
But Moss had kept his cloth stitchless by being overly cautious. After so many seasons, he knew what dangers to avoid in the Whispering Pools. Without that knowledge his confidence was limited.
Best to act like a critter. Slow, vigilante and ready to scamper.
Another flash, further away this time, brought the ruin back into view. It sat upon a hill, consuming one end of the graveyard. At its peak was a single finger of stone that pointed to the night sky. Random steps jutted along its side, suggesting the remains of a twisting staircase that once ascended a great spire.
Moss assumed it had collapsed on the building. This explained the massive hole in the roof that now framed the top of a tree. The colossal plant hadn't stopped there. As if a Kraken had erupted from its stony prison, branches and roots smashed through windows, walls and the front doors.
It must have been a magnificent temple in its prime. Why couldn't I have been the custodian then?
Moss trekked at a SnailFort's pace through the thorny pathway and up the hill. It felt like an alleyway of brambles, their twisting vines climbing each other for height. Long fingers crisscrossed the route, making the keeper weave and crawl in areas.
A HowlerBear would have a hard time getting through here. Moss thought as he stepped through a small gap.
Even the Doul dodged them, his smile was long gone now.
"It's okay, they're only plan- Ow!" Moss snatched his hand back from a thorn. The pain was intense, like a hundred webspinners had stung him at once. He expected to find his claw missing and was shocked to see the tiniest scratch mark on its end.
All that from one thorn. He thought, peering close to his assailant.
A thick droplet of blood hung off the point, shimmering in the moonlight. It tried to fall to the ground but was sucked into the vine as if the brambles had drunk it.
"Maybe they're actually HellPlants or BushHells. Or whatever. Let's just get to the temple." He whispered to his silent companion. Attempting to inspire a lick of confidence in him - and himself.
It took Moss half a candle to reach the building. Two huge doors were forced open by fat roots. Above them was the large window Moss had seen in his vision. Considering the rest of the ruins' condition, he was surprised to find it mostly intact.
A tiny branch had poked through one side, creating a large crack that ran through the main image. Cutting across three crescent moons, that hugged each other like nesting Furrys. Beneath was the four pointed star of the Divine. The god of heroes. Her symbol was always seen amongst raiding parties. They were connected by flowing branches and roots, intricately weaved to produce the image of a tree.
Have I seen that moon before?
It almost looked like the eye of Pools. The crest of their dungeon core which accompanied most officials and dungeon property, such as the posters and ScripPillars. It was only missing the pupil and one side.
Now on the hill, Moss had hoped for a refreshing breeze. But the air was still and hot. The sweet smell oozed from the giant tree's roots, maturing into a sickly stench. From this vantage point, he could see across the entire graveyard. The horizon was dark. Neither the moon light nor lightning touched its edge. Then the purple flowers began as the brambles advanced from all sides like an invading plague.
What is that?
Moss squinted, noticing little lights within the vines.
Could be crystals… or wild monsters.
Terrified, Moss ran for the door. He had to climb over the bulbous root to get in. The bark mushed beneath his weight like rotten wood. Where he clawed his way in, it left weeping grooves that seeped a white pus.
Inside, the keeper's discomfort only worsened. Moss felt like he was entering the belly of a beast and not a ruin. His cloth sagged from the damp air, sweat dripped down his arms and legs. The smell made his stomach roll.
I shouldn't have eaten the entire LionsMane at once. I could have plugged my nose with it.
The gluttonous tree had filled the space with its girthy trunk and purple leafed branches. The bark flaked like skin, filling the air and covering every surface with a layer of dust. Where it settled, the purple moss grew like a furry carpet.
Overwhelmed with anxiety and nausea, Moss chundered on the root. Spraying the wood with green liquid, mostly the stamina potion he'd drank on the Sixth. The tree shuddered, threatening to toss the keeper off.
You keep shaking me and I'll puke again. Moss silently promised it.
He knelt down, so as not to fall. Getting his face close to the vomit. A hot wave of pus streamed out, then thickened and bubbled into a dense foam. It smothered the green, eating away until nothing remained.
What is this?
Wendy didn't reply. And most wasn't sticking around until she returned. 'Only the curious know how deep it goes'. The old furrys warning returned to him as he scrambled.
In the entire ruin, there was only one area untouched by the tree. The corner to the right of the main door had no roots, dust or moss growing there.
Moss climbed down the root like a drunk HowlerMonkey being chased. Hastily clawing his way and tumbling off the final section. A cold hard floor caught him - and it felt wonderful. A small fountain beside him was leaking from a crack. The black inky water wove through the tiles by his feet and out a critter hole in the wall. Where the dark water ran, the roots halted. He dunked his hood in the fountain, bathing himself and Doul completely.
Pool's be praised.
It cooled him down and cleared his mind immediately, refreshing him like a swim in the Grotto's stream. For the first time since passing through the door, the keeper felt normal.
"We've found sanctuary. Doul." Moss said, finally relaxing and able to survey his work space. The cleaning alone was going to be a momentous task. But the keeper felt nothing but relief at escaping the ghoul and discovering his path in the Flow. However, invasive plants weren't on his normal work orders.
Regardless, Moss hopped on the spot with glee. There was a mountain of work to do and he was keen to get started. "I'm thinking, start with the broken glass-" The keeper swivelled on the spot as he noticed his cloak was different. The glittery substance was gone, but more importantly so was the Doul.
"Doul?"
Moss glimpsed the little creature's light disappearing through the hole in the wall. He peaked through to see it moving like a HareHound in the inky water, fast and agile.
What in the Hell's?
A small part of him wanted to let it go and be free to make its own choices. But this was a selfish thought, acting out of fear rather than kindness.
Moss remembered finding the Doul. He'd been lost and alone in the Fields of Passage. At the time he'd thought he was the saviour, but it was the Doul's light that had brought him hope.
A light sent by Pools.
Reluctantly, Moss gave chase. Heading back into the strange graveyard.

 

[Chaperone]

Outside, its little candle head flickered over an open grave. His bleak mouth opened into a shout as a feeble arm pointed inside. It was the only bramble free site in the entire graveyard.
This grave hugged the ruin's wall, nearest to the fountain and the hole. Moss could feel the damp grass beneath his feet.
So the tree and the brambles don't like the water.
"We call it a grave." Moss explained. "We use them to scare raiders. Apparently monsters once trapped heroes in them." The Doul stared at him in confusion. "I don't know, it was a weird ritual during old times, when Hell was our Core."
The Doul fell forward and disappeared inside.
"No, I said-" Moss cut himself off as he saw what was inside. The skeletal remains of another filled the floor and wasn't a hero. It was massive, with multiple limbs and a long spine that wrapped around like a tail. The Doul hugged its thick skull, laying between two large antlers. Its light illuminated the rich brown mud, shimmering on one side where the fountain's water dribbled over the edge.
It was strange to see a monster in a grave. However the keeper couldn't deny how peaceful it looked in death. The bones weren't piled like they'd been rolled off a battlefield, instead, they were complete and positioned as they would have been in life.
As if it had laid down there like the Doul did. Ready to die.
The grave lit up as the lightning exploded.
"Rut me, get out of there before we hear the bells ringing." Moss snapped.
The keeper tittered impatiently like his old Orderer always did with their chain. As he shook his head, he noticed a blue light shone from beneath the wilting brambles.
It came from the gravestone.
The bush was dry here. Its vines' skinny and thorns dull. He tore at it to discover a blue glowing rune. Its intricate design was shaped like a wing.
Stale, lilac moss had overtaken the rest of the stone. Which Moss's claw attacked to reveal the other wing, this one burned with a fiery red. And finally the head. Which glowed a bright green like the sting of a LightningBug.
It's some sort of HiveSect. Maybe a moth?
As he considered the runes, the head dimmed and died. Leaving only the dull, lifeless stone beneath.
"What the fuck."
The Doul was crawling out of the grave. Moss looked between his companion and the gravestone.
"Could you go back in?" He asked.
The Doul face warped into scowl. Its arm lifted as two fingers formed into a V.
"I know what I said, but just for a flicker." Moss went to encourage - push - the spirit in, but his hands passed straight through its body.
Oh right, no more sparkle power.
"Go on."
Soon the Doul was nestled at the bottom. He looked up with a crude smile, seemingly at peace. The gravestone head was glowing once again.
"Hhhmmm. Maybe… maybe stay in the hole?" He suggested.
Moss cleared the rest of the gravestone. Stripping the back and sides of any plant matter and lichen. Going from top to bottom, all the way to the dirt. Nearby brambles snagged and tore his cloth as he worked. But the custodian fought on. He scraped each runic groove with his claws to remove any lingering bits of moss. A very satisfying process. Before finally licking the stone clean. It was practically shining in the moonlight. Yet the runes hadn't changed.
There has to be more to this. Moss wished Rene was here to guide him. And then remembered how the RuneMaster had activated the air glyph beneath the Oasis. He repeated the process. Smacking the rune several times, but only managing to hurt himself.
What else can I do? Or offer it?
Moss closed his eyes and placed his hands on the runes. Willing his Flow through. Nothing.
He considered his abilities. Settling on the KeyBearer. The key formed, still old and rusty but no longer broken.
But found no slot for it.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and peaked into the grave. The Doul looked to be sleeping. His normal warping expression had finally settled to suggest a deep slumber. The keeper felt like a goblin peering in on him. But he couldn't stop watching. What was missing? Maybe I'm overthinking this. I should check another gravesite.
He could see the stone face of the closest one through the brambles. The fountain's water didn't reach this far, leaving the plants happy and thriving. Moss gathered a small amount from the leaking hole and splashed it onto a bush. Hoping it would melt away. But the water simply dripped down the vines like it had just rained.
He pulled a few bones from his rubbish bag and used them to push the brambles back, hoping to create a tunnel. They didn't want to budge. Even with his improved Might, the plants were resilient to his demands. Only creating a pocket for the keeper to peek through. Thorns waited patiently for Moss to make a bad decision.
With his hood poking the space, he waited for-
Lightning crashed. Revealing the grave for a flicker.
It didn't reveal much.
Gravestone covered in purple moss. Can't see any glowing runes. Even the grave is covered on this one with blue grass.
It reminded Moss of the first floor again, except there the grass was the only thing growing.
Maybe that's it.
The keeper didn't know how long it took for grass to grow. He hoped the Flow would encourage it along. But step one was going to be filling in the grave. Which meant finding all the mud that was taken out of it.
He found it beneath another frail bush between the path and the grave. A brief fight later and he had his dirt.
Moss's sharp claws were ideal for breaking the compacted soil up. Which he then tossed into the hole with his remaining bone paddle - a snapped hip from a Lesser.
Candles burned while he toiled in the graveyard. His stamina and mana were constantly diminished to nothing, forcing Moss to rest and recover each time. He'd sit near the fountain's hole, using the water to cool himself off and discovered it cleared his headaches as well. When the dirt finally reached the surrounding grass, the keeper was done. His body felt like he'd been fighting in a war for shifts.
Moss crumbled in his resting spot, admiring his work and considering a nap.
He pulled Po from his pocket. "Do you know how long grass-"
A moth appeared, not the completed rune, but a living moth. It sat upon the gravestone. Which started pulsing like the beating wings of fat Fairy- questionably slow, yet intense.
The moth fluttered lazily, wafting motes of lights, before taking to the air. In the moonlight graveyard it flew towards the temple, leaving a clear trail in its wake. The custodian felt like his work at the gravesite was done. He left the Doul to rest and followed the mystical creature.
Hoping it was a guide from Pools. Offering answers in this mystery place.

 

[Chaperone]

Moss followed the moth's trail back inside.
Where it flew, motes of light remained that repelled the flaking bark of the grotesque tree. Working like the fountains water, and refreshing to the touch. The tree shuddered at its presence, repulsed by the teeny HiveSect which flitted through its messy canopy.
Its branches weren't like any Moss had seen before. They weaved amongst themselves like weeds fighting for light, varying in girth and foliage throughout.
Growing with no clear pattern or structure, only aiming to spread its sickly white as far as possible. Certain sections were marred with open wounds. The wood darkened here and split open with a gush of leaves.
They hung in wet clumps, resembling purple entrails more than anything.
Black tendrils spilled from amongst the leaves. Moss assumed these were the tree's flowers, though they looked more like the lashes used by Orderers. They dangled in long, twisting strips that almost touched the roots.
The keeper watched in horror as the flowers moved towards the moth. Standing like PygmySerpents, they undulated through the air as if to strike.
But the moth danced around their lethargic moves, mocking their petty attempt at ensnaring it.
Hadn't I passed some of those as I entered-
Moss turned to find several dark tendrils beside him. One latched onto his shoulder, sticking in place and tugging him closer to the others. The branch above shuddered as the open wound moistened and began seeping puss. They were mouths and him the food.
Moss cried out as his feet left the root and was lifted towards it.
Fuck me, not here. I'll never be found.
He stabbed his claws into the tendril, pumping his venom within.
The flower sagged, but as he tried to leap away it followed, still attached.
Moss searched his pockets to find the small metal object.
The ring of silence. He slipped it on and grabbed a hold of his captor. Strangling it like an unloved youngling, trying to make it let go.
But still it held. He'd gained a little distance from the other flowers, which moved like FortSnails. But they were almost on him now.
Pools save me. I'm not built for this.
The keeper dug his claws into the bark and tried to pull himself free. Painfully stretching his cloth in the process. The agony became too much, he gave up. Sliding back across the bark towards the other flowers.
Moss could see the irony. He stuck the dead together for a living. In a grim yet poetic sense, he was going to die from being stuck. The flower's ability wasn't even that strong. But it had trapped a very weak monster.
I survive the bloody sleeper mushroom only to die to a flower.
"Banish me!" He yelled.
This is pathetic. My tongue is better than this, my lick- wait a flicker.
Moss licked the still numb flower head, right where it met his cloth. Attaching it to himself with his own ability. He then willed it to unstick.
Most of the flower detached, but a few hairs remained.
He leapt as the other tendrils reached him. Stretching his cloth again.
It tore. Sending him rolling down the root, mushing the bark as he went. Until it dropped down the steep side towards the fountain. He turned, raking his claws against the wood to slow himself.
Moss still hit the ground hard. His backside hurt, but nothing like his shoulder.
The flower had torn a patch of cloth from his cloak. Blood seeped out the raw wound making him dizzy.
Everything about the tree was wrong. Moss had no doubt it wasn't supposed to be here. Which reminded him of his current objective, working out what this place was all about. He'd hoped to discover some answers from the moth. But as the flower attacked, he'd lost its trail.
"Muck the bedroll. Where has it gone?"
The keeper licked the white bark from his cloth. Spitting the remains onto the wet floor, where it fizzled into nothing. He then dunked his head in the cool fountain water. He needed a clear head to figure this place out.
In case the flowers contained any poison, he also cleaned his wound with the inky water, along with a few licks.
Refreshed, Moss squinted through the low light and flakey air. Where he finally spotted the flying insect. It had nestled within a bundle of leaves, where the flowers emerged from the open wounds. It appeared to be feeding on small flowers that had only just started to grow. The keeper couldn't tell from this distance whether it was eating them or drinking nectar from their follicles - he hoped for the former.
If I'm going to tidy this place up, that tree needs to go.
As he moved towards the nearest root, pain spiked in his shoulder. His butt hurt from falling. And his anger burned within.
He was tired of being chased, threatened and bullied. Demons and heroes he could understand, they functioned on a level he shouldn't be near. If they killed the keeper, it was his fault. But mushrooms and plants.
Hells bells, they treat me like a critter.
Moss wanted some revenge and he had a plan.
"I got news for you, you ugly pile of firewood! I'm the custodian here! You think you can eat me in my temple?" He yelled, throwing the Holy Vs at the tree's canopy. "I'm gonna mulch your bark and shit on it! I'll shred your leaves and drown those baby flowers in my fountain! I may be small but my claws are sharp! You think I'm a critter, I bet you've never seen one start a fire!"
The tree shuddered, but it was only to shake the moth off.
He glared, not sure if the plant was taking him seriously. Amongst its branches, woven into the bark, he thought he saw a face.
Is it… grinning?
"Aaahhh!" Moss cried out in frustration.
He searched along the floor and discovered suitable rocks for his malicious plan. He began sparking them over a pile of crumbling books, muttering hateful oaths under his breath. When he heard a voice from above.
"A fire? In here?"
I knew it. I knew I saw a face in the leaves. It can't reach me down here. I'm going to burn it down. Then it'll know who's in charge.
"A difficult challenge yet disrespectful. He must have fallen out of the nest quite young. It's all rock and stone down there." The tree said with a deeper voice this time.
Moss tried to ignore the tree. But fewer and fewer sparks were flying now. Not one catching. The fire in him died as his shoulder grew more painful.
Drained, Moss gave up.
"See, rock and stone. Poorly chosen tools, this one won't get far." The tree mocked him.
"Quite the fool we have here." The other voice tutted. "Though I'm not sure he heard."
"Am I not speaking loud enough?"
"You are to me, but I'm beside you and his little ears are all the way down there."
"Should I yell?"
"Heavens no, if he's suffering from a SlowSpell he might get frightened and hurt himself."
"Not with fire anyway."
Its laughter sounded like a cave collapsing.
Assaulting Moss's ears and causing him to tense up.
"Oh did you see that? He reacted. Hey little boy. Can you hear us?"
"Try whistling."
"Whistling? My lips are made of-"
"I heard you." Moss answered the… tree? But it wasn't the tree talking, it was a two headed gargoyle perched above the fountain. The only one that had survived the battle with time.
"So you were ignoring us?" One of the heads said.
The other turned to his companion. "That's incredibly rude."
"Quite hurtful really."
Moss clenched his claws together and gathered his thoughts.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were the tree. It tried to eat me and I just got so angry at everything trying to kill me. It happens all the time, every rutting shift. No matter how hard I work, it's not good enough. And then Pools finally notices all I've done and rewards me. But then I come here and it's a ruin and mess. Which is fine, I don't mind cleaning up. I know my place in the dungeon. But how am I supposed to do that with a massive bloody plant trying to tear my cloth out." Moss slumped in his hood, relaxing his fists and letting out a big sigh. "I'm just trying to clean this place up and hopefully learn about my role."
The keeper looked up to find the gargoyles quietly talking amongst themselves. One peered down as he stopped his rant. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?"
The other looked around the ruin dramatically. "Was someone talking?"
"I think it was that little reaper boy."
Moss let out a huff of frustration, but apologised for ignoring the gargoyles again.
"As statues, our voices are all we have." The higher pitched one sobbed into the other's neck. "It's not like we can just tap you on the shoulder."
"Oh come on, I didn't know." Moss said.
"Didn't know or didn't care."
The other put his arm around his companion and glared at Moss. "I bet you only talk in ClawLanguage when MoleKins are around."
"ClawLanguage? I don't even-"
He could see them hiding their grins. "Oh rutt both of you. You've got hearts of stone."
"Was that a stone joke?" One of them chuckled.
The other giggled. "He doesn't know anything but jests apparently."
Moss tried to stop himself smiling. But it was nice to find a little joy in such a grim place.
"I know you sound like mating RockGolems when you laugh."
They laughed louder as they heard themselves. Banging their stoney hands on the wall for show. This went on for a few flickers until Moss recovered. And noticed the moth was sitting upon the gargoyles leg. The purple moss that clung to their stone bodies was falling away as the blue motes cleansed them. It was subtle and slow, but clearly cleaning the church faster than the keeper.
The gargoyles didn't seem bothered by its presence or the trees. They were happy enough to keep making jokes. But Moss was here to find answers, like what does his job entail and where were these DeathRelics?
'I'm Moss, a keeper. And the custodian of this… 'ruin'?"
"Ruin?" A gargoyle scoffed with offense.
The other squinted at Moss. "Did you say keeper? They all look the same to me."
"This is her temple." The first snapped. "Your patron's shrine of worship. Show respect or be gone with you."
The other gargoyle poked his companion. "Kilma, can you tell the difference? Do they all share the same clothes?"
"No Kixtra, I can't… Hang on." Kilma's head bobbed up and down while he searched the room. His neck movement was severely limited.
"I literally can only hang on." His other half replied.
"Where are all the other reapers?" Kilma asked. "What has Hells done with this place?"
Hells? Are these gargoyles from the old Cores time? This is amazing, they'll know everything. They must have seen this place in its prime and know exactly where all the treasure is kept.
From their vantage point, Kilma and Kixtra were finally noticing the state of the temple. Speechless, their stoney faces shifted from confused to angry as more details came to light. Until it all boiled over into an emotional rant.
Kilma clicked his stoney claws at him. "Hey, hey little cleaner boy. This place is a mess."
"Do you even take your job seriously?" asked Kixtra.
"Look at the pews, the walls, the doors. Oh crack my sides, Kixtra. The windows are smashed."
Kilma howled to the moon in despair. "Not the stained glass. It took seasons for the gnome children to finish them."
"I bet they're all grown up and tainted now. We'll never find such pure, sinless hands like those."
"Don't worry, gnomes hate monsters and especially their own kids. They treat the orphanage like a nestury. It's always well stocked. We will contact their workshop immediately."
"They better still use GloomFeather venom. It's the only way to make the colours so vibrant." Kiltrax demanded.
Kilma gasped. "Who planted that tree there? That is incredibly inconvenient."
"I think it came from the sky. Look, there's a hole in the roof."
"This is a disgrace."
"Absolute shit hole."
Kilma slapped his companion across the face. "Be respectful. You know how she feels about Holy words."
"Who's listening?" Moss asked.
The gargoyles shared a look of astonishment.
"Your god little reaper. Our Lady Death."

 

[Chaperone]

Tink stood in front of the entrance to his family's wall. He wrung his leather coif and resisted reaching for Shifty. He never visited their corridor in case they spotted him. It hadn't changed much, a few new cobwebs and some pitfalls were now left exposed. He could tell his brothers had made it and not his Pa.
No feces. Can'y be Pa's then. Everything he crafts looks like shit, smells like shit and is covered in shit - usually his own. Tink scoffed at the thought. Over compensating. The mark of a rookie.
Lui gave him a gentle tap. "Y'all need me to knock?"
"No, no. Just… give me a rotation. I'm thinking." Tink grumbled.
Just be the bigger gnome. Tis pride stopping you seeing everyone. Bloody pride and him.
The gnome scrunched his face up in anguish until the MolePede leaned over to check once again.
"Ya know Tinks, I spent a whole shift trapped in my cousin's tunnel once. Her partner had come home early because he'd found an OakHeart in the mines. Luckily for us, he traded it for some top grade ManaCrystals, snorted it all and rolled through the Flow for candles. Never found us."
"Would he have cared if he did?"
"Oh Hells yeh, I was two arms deep. He would have ripped off the other four in a flicker." My point is-"
"Wait lad." The gnome's face scrunched up in realisation. "When you say you was in her tunnels? You ain't talking about her home?"
Lui spat on the floor. "This shit again? No, we don't live underground like WildOnes, we ain't freaks. I mean her HiddenEye. You see now?"
"Sure." Tink said slowly. "So where's this story going?"
"When I was trapped there." Lui continued. "It gave me too much time to think. When that happens, you'll always find a bad chord or an off note in your choices-"
"Like fucking your cousin?"
"Exactly." Lui hooted. "I thought, why am I still fucking my family after so many seasons. There are plenty more monsters in the dungeon. And even more realms to explore. That was the shift I decided to travel. Packed up and left before my last arm had gone limp." Lui's smile faltered. "If I'd stayed, I'd never have been a slave in the Quarter. If I hadn't over thought my actions, I'd still be home now - fucking my cousin."
Tink stroked his moustache and considered his companions words of wisdom. Lui was an artist and an explorer, he had life experiences to back his opinions.
"Aye, I see what you're getting at. I was looking at this problem like it was part of my designs. Analysing the outcomes, anticipating the errors and over measuring each step to ensure success. But this isn't the same situation, this is real and happening now and you can't always prepare and predict that. So why bother? Sometimes you just have to tell yourself to shut up and dive in." The gnome smiled at his friend.
"We'll dive in together." Lui said, slapping him on the back.
"Thanks for coming with me, Lui." Tink snivelled. "I wish more monsters were like you."
The MolePede dabbed at the headband around his eyes. "That's kind of you to say, most dwellers would disagree on accounts of the imbreeding."
He waved his six arms around to make his point.
"Wait a flicker lad, you saying you ain't a MolePede?"
"A MolePede, what a ridiculous name. You ever seen a RatKin get along with the HiveSect? Not in my lifetime. No, I'm all Mole. From my six clawed feet to my cloudy eyes, I'm as pure as they come."
"I see. I suppose none of us chose our nests." The gnome stated. "I thought I'd flown mine, but it's still up here." He tapped his head with his tool. "Time to do it properly and see my old pa." Tink slammed his shifter against the wall several times.
"I thought you killed your Dad?" Lui asked.
"I did… in a spiritual, emotional sense."
"Sounds healthy." The mole muttered under his breath.
The wall slid open to reveal a shorter, stockier gnome.
"Good shift, Ma." Tink said.
"Tinkerbell?" She leapt, crushing him in a tight embrace.
Lui covered his mouth, trying to smother a laugh.
'I'll wear your face' Tink silently threatened.
They were swept inside the wall. Tink's mother, Welma, didn't stop fussing over him. She grasped her son at every given opportunity and also Lui for returning him. Tink's defensive demeanour softened in the warmth of his loving parent. They reached the family kitchen. Again, nothing had changed in the chimney shaped room. Shelves, pantries and cupboards were stacked high and required a series of inbuilt ladders to reach the top. The three of them nestled together at the bottom with homemade SilkTea, harvested from TunnelCrawlers by Welma herself. A candle passed while they shared stories and caught up with each other's lives. Lui just listened in throughout, not once did the gnomes make him feel intrusive. Always offering insights into their inside jokes and tales. At one point Welma scaled the kitchen sides, still agile like a HowlerMonkey. She returned with a dark bottle and a cheeky grin. She winked at Tink and filled their mugs with a clear liquid, he knew what it was from the smell of grease and soot.
"Distilled ForgeWater." Tink told his friend.
He chugged the liquor, as was traditional. Burning his throat and igniting his heart with emotion. Probably not the smartest move during a family reunion, but he enjoyed the wave of nostalgia none the less.
"Reminds me of smoking SwampSloth moss with my lot. Cleared the aches and pains. But the best part… the best part was it let us see the truth."
"Like what was important?" Tink asked.
"No, literally see the true world. Fixed our eyes and gave us these crazy visions. Monsters thoughts bubbled from their minds like paintings. It was like swimming in a rainbow of memories."
"Aye, that sounds like a good time." Welma said, patting Tink on the arm. "We had lots of those before TinkerBell ran off to scribble on his traps."
Tink snatched the bottle and took a deep swig. This was the part he'd wanted to avoid, the reason for his leaving. His family had never seen the potential in his scripture.
'Silly WoodElf stuff', his Pa had called it.
The gnome who didn't fear death was too afraid to defend his passion, and had chosen to run away instead.
"So, TinkerBell." She said, "How are your fancy decorations going?"
The gnome crumbled into his chair at the question. "Aye, alright I guess."
"He's under selling it." Lui said as he grabbed the bottle and drank.
"Really?" Welma asked with genuine surprise. "I remember all his little drawings covering his bunk and work space. Very pretty. And he would get so upset when none of them worked."
A fire bloomed in Tink. Fueled by his Ma's words and the ForgeWater.
Definitely shouldn't have drank that. But it's fucking too late now.
He stood up to speak, but Lui beat him to it.
"All artists will revel in their achievements. But I believe the best ones should celebrate their worst performances as well. Even more so, I say. Those are the stepping stones in their journey for greatness. Without them, you'd be flying down anothers river. Not even realising you were heading in the wrong direction and next thing you know. You're a mimic, playing the same old tunes as everyone else. Tink's heading his own path now. And it's going to change the TrapCraft forever." Lui said.
"Is this true?" Welma asked.
Lui nodded to him and handed the bottle back.
"Aye." Tink said, finding his voice. "Even now my corridor is working. Not a single monster operates my traps, only the enhancing scripture. Took a while to sort out the medium, but we persevere. Trap management, repairs, reloads are last season's problem. Now I got the wax to focus experiment and craft new designs." He took a swig and slapped Lui across the arm. "And even find myself a monsterette to go tunneling with."
"Oooooweeeee!" The mole yelled. "Sounds like the next family reunions with my lot."
His Ma embraced him. "Well done my boy." She said with tears in her eyes. "I'm so proud of you. I wish your Pa could see you now." She filled his mug and sat him down. "Tell me all about them. Tell me how these 'scriptures' work."
More drinks flowed, the pantries were raided and the home in the wall was a merry world as he explained.
They were all laughing around the table when Tink cleared his throat. Growing serious. "So…" He began. "I wanted to sort things with Pa. When's he getting in?"
"Oh he's just in the next section." Welma said, pointing at the open doorway.
"Ya kidding?"
She shook her head.
"Pa!" Tink yelled with a red face.
"Fuck off!" A gruff voice replied from only a few feet away.
Tink and Lui shot into the room to discover his old Pa and brothers were all sitting around the lounge.
Before he could say anything, the old gnome pointed out the room and his siblings silently filed out. Not even glancing at Tink.
"This is ridiculous. Tender, Timas, Toll." Tink called after them before rounding on the grizzly old gnome. His eyes were hidden beneath thick eyebrows and deep wrinkles. A fat ebony lingered to the side of his moustache.
"I made a mistake with you Tink." His Pa spat into a tin pot. "Should have blown you into a rag instead of your Ma."
Tink grabbed an empty bottle and smashed it against the wall, leaving the jagged end facing out.
"Oi! I'll have none of that in this wall!" Welma stormed in waving an iron pan. She pointed it at both of them.
Tink discarded the broken bottle and his dad acknowledged her with the slightest tilt of the head.
As she left he tried to dismiss him as well.
"Go on. Run along to your little WoodElf workshop with ya doodles and fancy scribbles. Leave the real work to real TrapMasters."
Tink saw it then. It wasn't disappointment or anger in his Pa's eyes, but envy.
"Take the piss all you want, old monster, we both know you've wasted your seasons in this dungeon."
His Pa ignored him, dropping into his seat and swigging heavily.
Tink unclenched his fists. Don't over think it. He's not walking the same path as me.
His frown dissolving as he shook his head. "Most fathers would be proud." With that, he turned and marched out. His resolve set. His guilt gone. He kissed his Ma and said he'd visit her soon and was out the wall with Lui by the time his Pa caught up to yell more abuse.
The two monsters kept going, never looking back.
Even as his threats echoed off the neighbourhood walls. "I know how you did it lad, I heard it all. The whole dungeon will have your demon blood design. And they'll be thanking me. Me!"
Tink laughed as they headed to the Quarter.
"You good?" Lui asked.
"It's funny. I thought it was me that was broken and wrong. The noise was so loud, but when you pull the panel back and finally look inside. It was just a small loose screw. I let it rattle in me for too bloody long. Making far too much noise for what it was worth."
"Still want ta kill him?" Lui asked.
"I already did."

 

[Chaperone]

As the painting entrance to Minor's came into view, it became apparent, to Tink, that no one was getting in. A troop of gnolls were passing in and out of the PaintWay, while others stood watch beside it.
Tink pulled Lui back round the corner. "Bloody dogs, not seen them mobilise like this for a few seasons. Remember when the Trenches went mad? And the old ShroomSentries were still about?"
"Must have been before I arrived." Lui replied.
"You missed out laddy. They started sniffing their own spores and rubbing them in monsters faces. Kept screaming 'we're all in a dream, wake up or die'. Loads of dwellers went mental, spread faster than HellWarts. Anyway, a big garrison of gnolls rolled out to hunt them all down. Dark times now that I think about it." Tink chuckled, laughing off the memory. "Got me out of work for a bit at least. Took the grubs… I mean keepers, a few shifts to find all the pieces. Point is, they don't empty the dens like this for a few drunk dwellers. They must be seriously worried that HellHare's going to come back. We could try and sneak through the tunnel in my wall, but that ain't going to change the fact the place is full of dogs."
Lui peeked around the corner. "Looks to me like a pappa PorcuPig trying to hide his daughter's soft parts. Spikes and snarls all facing out, so they ain't looking in."
Tink wasn't sure what Lui was getting at. He tended to have his own way of describing and going about the world. Even now the mole was wedging two sets of claws into his mouth and blowing, but no noise came from it.
The gnome poked around the corner, only to see the gnolls with their ears pointed and their heads on a swivel. Grim weapons hung at their sides. Not that the enforcers needed anything but claws and fangs to tear him apart. Furniture littered the corridor, all smashed and ruined.
Bet the keepers had to clear that crap out. I wonder if Moss knows any that did the clean up.
Beyond them the PaintWay stirred, unnoticed.
The portrait knight was leaning on a tree, taking a piss. But something else moved within. A dark shape was racing along the brushstroke path. Flying towards them.
The gnome took a step back, grabbing his friend. But Lui held fast, with a wide grin beneath his twitching nose.
Tink heard claws against stone tearing towards them. His hand clenched on Shifty, ready to bash whatever came bounding round the corner. The Mole stepped out first and caught a white mass in his many arms.
A creature spasmed with joy, licking his face with an intimate affection. Further down the corridor, the gnolls watched them but held their positions.
Aye, we ain't a threat little doggys. Just a gnome and his imbred mate.
"Ruffles." Lui cried with joy. Enjoying the moment before placing the pet down. "This is Ruffles, my HareHound. Little bastard got so much spunk in him, couldn't go faster if you set him on fire. Pisses on my bedroll each morning without fail though."
"Well trained then." Tink commented.
"You know how it is with family. Wanna snip their ears most mornings, it's like a shiftly ritual now. But he just gives me this look… like I'm the only one he's ever had. The only love he ever needs.
Then I piss on his bed. Some on his fur too. Can't show weakness ya see, or that look of love will start shifting away from the family kind."
Tink coughed. "Not sure what comes after family love with your lot."
The gnomes leaned down to scratches behind the hounds long floppy ears. Its long tail swung wildly in its excitement, smacking Tink in the face continuously.
"How'd you bet he'd still be here?" The gnome asked.
"He trusts me. And I stupidly told him to wait. That's the hound in him, you see. Listens to my commands, that's serious responsibility."
Lui started to bother over the beast like a worried mother. Running his hands all over to check for injuries and dirty fur. He pulled back Ruffles lips to reveal two sets of long fangs on either side.
"Set like a predator." Tink pointed out.
"Oooooweee, like you wouldn't believe." The Mole produced a small scrap of blue cloth. Shoving it in Ruffle's nose. The twinned set of nostrils flared excitedly. Then he was off, bounding around them in a rapid circle.
"Go find him boy." Lui commanded, sprinting after his beast.
Tink grumbled as he gave chase. "I ain't built for running ya bloody rodents."

***


Moss produced the Temple's key. It shook in his hand, though he was uncertain whether this was due to the keyhole being closeby or his pounding heart.
The perspective of his world had just shifted. From loving his job, to loathing it. And now a new deity smiled upon him, and his kind. As, apparently, she'd always done.
For keepers were servants and worshippers of Lady Death. Goddess of the travelling spirit. Guardian of the lost and Mother of young. He'd heard her name before, refered to in old sayings and oaths. But not once did he presume she was real. Kilma was ready to throw roof tiles when he'd mentioned that. As Lady Death wasn't only his patron but also part of the RealmTree.
Kixtra pointed towards the stainedglass window with the symbol in the centre. "Lady Death and the Holy Divine are the daughters of the Flow. They ensure it's continous current through the dungeon, monsters and the heroes world beyond."
Moss had smothered his sneer at the mention of the Holy one. For only those that brought harm to the dungeon bore the light. He didn't want to offend the gargoyles further and miss a chance to learn and progress. Especially on how to do his new job.
As custodian, he cared for the Temple and their Lady would, hopefully, see his worth and reward him. Moss was finding it strange to drop to his knees at her fountain - having just learnt of her presence. But he thought about his quest, talking to the Supreme, reuniting Po with the Oracle and helping his race by replacing Kai. It was a lot for one keeper. A few DeathRelics for his cause would help greatly.
I'll pray at the altar, lick that ugly tree away, light the candles and flog my hide. All for you, my fair Lady. Whatever you need to get that Flow coming my way.
But the gargoyles were no fools. If they could see false veneration, then so could she.
And Moss wore his ignorance like a youngling playing in a dragon's cave.
"BlueGrass robes make you a Reaper of the cloth. In regards to our Lady Death's followers. They're… how do I say this? Furthest from the top." Kilma explained.
At the bottom again. Tale of my life.
"Keepers." Kiltrix said. "Moss calls them Keepers."
Kilma scowled. "I don't care what these younglings call themselves. They're Reapers."
Reapers, Moss thought. Is there more to my kind than we knew?

 

[Chaperone]

Kilma scowled. "I don't care what these younglings call themselves. They're Reapers."
Reapers, Moss thought. Is there more to my kind than we knew?
"Grind my claws! Stop acting like a fossil. We've obviously slept through a season or two. Certain things die and certain things live. It's obviously a deadname."
"A page turn ago he didn't even know the name of his Goddess."
Moss cleared his throat. "Either is fine with me."
"As I was saying. Keeper of the…"
"Ha!" Kiltrix yelled in his face. "Catchy isn't it."
"Would you shut up so I can finish this lecture!" Kilma snapped. Spitting flakes of stone over his companion.
Kiltrix prayed to the ceiling. "Lady, please separate me from this fiend. I can't stand another season stuck to him. I can't and I won't." The gargoyle turned sharply to look away and cried out in pain. He grabbed his neck with his one arm. "I've strained myself now thanks to you."
"Well it was…"
"No, I do not accept your apology."
"Kiltrix, can I please finish?"
"Do you know how long it takes to soothe stone. Oh you don't even care, do you? Finish your lesson and send him off to find a soul and see who'll talk to you then. It's no one, Kilma. No one. Because I'll be here suffering in silence and you dam well know the GraveMoths can't speak."
Moss sat awkwardly on the one remaining pew, and not because he didn't fit the furniture - which was a first for him. Kilma placed his face in his one free hand and sighed excessively loud before continuing.
"It goes cloth, wool then silk. For keepers, that is. Other monsters use other words."
"So I'll never be a lesser keeper?" Moss asked.
Kiltrix scoffed. "No and you don't want to be. That's a horrible title, it's no wonder the demons are so insecure."
"It all relates to your role in the dungeon." Kilma added. "Say you were Silk rank. That would place you in a standing above a lesser demon or another minor monster. But you won't match them in battle prowess. It doesn't suddenly make your cloak immune to their abilities and weapons-"
"That'd be ridiculous." Kiltrix commented.
"Exactly. But you will be better at your job. Your purpose. Just as a MasterTrapper crafts greater designs and an ElderBrewer concocts rarer potions."
Moss considered the other keepers. He'd never heard of one gaining a new rank. "I get it. I do. But I've seen a few Greater Demons. But not one Wool keepers or Silk."
"Not one?" Kilma asked, astounded. "That's outragoues. Your generation clearly don't know what hard work is."
"Actually Silks are Rare." Kiltrix added, gaining a scowl from Kilma.
"How rare?" Moss asked.
"No, that's the base name of the rank." The gargoyle answered. "But, yes. There's not many of them. And then-"
"Then what? Can you go higher?" Moss asked with giddy excitement.
Kilma sneered at his companion. "Stop distracting him with the moon while he's still lost in the woods." He turned to address Moss. "There are more ranks but they get more specialised. You will eventually have to choose a pattern, which we call a weave. It's far, far in your future and is an important, life defining, decision."
"A pattern." Moss repeated as he closely inspected his new cloak for the first time.
He could barely distinguish the threads nuances. But they were certainly there. "I think I have one! Look, I'm special!" Moss said. Hopping on the pew and stretching his cloak out for them to see.
Kiltrix made an effort to lean in slightly. Reducing the distance between them by a moth's wing.
"Wow! Aren't you a special monster." He cooed to Moss before turning to her companion. "Pretty sure those are just creases."
"It's not. I can see a pattern!" Moss snapped.
"Not another one." Kilma scoffed again. "Monsters always focus the little details. My silk is true gold so I'm super strong. Well my weave is of the Emerald Tomb so blah blah. Fucking dragon muck. The only person that's impressed by those blank magic missiles is a MoonElf you paid twice so they'd pretend to care. What is important is on the inside…" Kilma lecture went on. But Moss wasn't listening.
The Keeper looked up from his inspection with a hidded grin. "I think it's an eye in the flame of a candle."
Kilma gasped. "The custodian's candle. How? But you're only of the cloth."
"I thought it didn't matter?" Kiltrix sniggered.
Moss went on to explain the rune tattoo he'd received from Rene, thus choosing his career.
The gargoyles went silent. Both looking at each other, before regarding their crumbling home.
"We slept through a new age, Kiltrix." Kilma whispered. "Like the chimneys of an old house, we stand alone."
"Chimney! I'm a pillar that still holds the roof of my time. Who's to say these flesh markings are right. Scarring a soul can be a daming experience."
Kilma's grin stretch from pointed ear to ear. His melancholy flaking away. "Yes, yes. We're pillars." His gaze drunk in the open sky. "Terrible job we've done so far."
"I think that's where I come in." Moss said.
"Of course. The temple's custodian. Shocking first shift you're having." Kilma goaded him.
"Truly dreadful." Kiltrix added. "Who let's a WeepingTree thrive in the Temple. It's not like they can walk in."
"Well I've only just got the position." Moss confessed.
The gargoyles laughed into the open sky.
"We know. It's rare to see a brother of the cloth be appointed as custodian. Though the Flow chooses, not the reapers court." Kilma stated.
"Who are they?" Moss asked.
Kiltrix flicked some white flakes from their ledge. "Does it matter? They must be dust by now."
The keeper could see the sadness that brought on them. Not wanting to push the subject, for now, he moved on. "So I don't have to bother getting other materials for my cloak?"
"What! Of course you do. The material doesn't matter, it's symbolic for Ladies sake. Kiltrix, he's not even listening.".
"I am, but I'd already told you I was a custodian and you didn't care. Then when I point out my pattern, you believe me. So it is important."
"He's got you there." Kiltrix added.
Kilma ignored their comments. "It still matters. All you've done is get a job that you're completely unqualified for."
"So did we." The other gargoyle pointed out before turning to Moss. "Our Lady appointed us in this position herself due to our special relationship."
"Being her children doesn't make us unique, each soul that passes through her realm becomes connected. Reborn in her comforting embrace. That's practically every dweller in the entire dungeon."
"It's still nepotism. So don't fret about experience, Moss. However the ranks represent talent, prestige and perserverence. They're to be respected."
Moss nodded and agreed. But he was still a bit stumped. For he had lived many seasons in the dungeon and never seen any keeper look different. Except for the stitching that marked their deaths, the fabric and colour was always the same.
"How do I gain ranks?" He asked.
"It's simple." They replied. "Do your job and you will be rewarded."
That delicious word played across Moss's tongue. "Rewarded."
The gargoyles both pointed to the fountain. Within the cool waters the keeper found a glass coin. Minted with the shrouded face of Lady Death within her crescent moon. The other side was blank, except for an intricate weaving along the edges. Moss then flipped it to see the same framing was around his deity's image.
"I see your confusion from here." Kilma said. "It's a LinkRelic. Let me explain."
The Gargoyles eyes glowed blue as his voice whispered in Moss's mind. Much like his Chronicler, without her overly sweet admiration for him.

LinkRelic (Rare)
Crafted by the daughters of fate themselves. These relics house the pure currents of the Flow. Allowing a bridge to form between the opposing forces of this world. This LinkRelic contains an anchor into Lady Death's realm.

"Incredible." Moss said, admiring the powerful loot. "What do I do with it?"
Kiltrix snorted. "We'll only hold your claws so far, Moss."
"We have shown you the light." Kilma added. "You must learn how to grow."
"But I have worked for seasons and only just finding the path of my Flow. Can you just tell me if it's the right way." He replied.
Kilma rolled his stoney eyes with the sardonic attitude all elders have when correcting a youth.
Kiltrix shrugged with one shoulder and asked Moss to explain a shift at work.
He was still thinking about that now as the key vibrated. The perpetual moonlight illuminated the small clearing where he'd originally arrived, surrounded by the invading brambles. He had to leave once the gargoyles delighted giggles of disapproval had turned to shrieks of horror. More Kiltrix than Kilma, who simply groaned louder and louder with Moss's description. The lesson had abruptly ended there, Moss being dismissed with only one objective set for him. Retrieve a body and return to the temple. He'd started explaining the gravesite with the Doul and glowing gravestone. But apparently that had been 'anothers' to complete.
Who else would have done it? The GraveMoths?
The gargoyles sent him for a corpse and promised to explain his actual role in this world upon his return.
Why had they been so distressed though?
The key snapped into place. The seams of reality screeched as the door opened.
Distracted by his own thoughts, Moss wasn't expecting the piercing screech. He paniced. Collapsing into a protective ball on the floor to shield his ears.
As he hit the cobbled path, a mass shot over the top of him.
It wasn't the door making that noise, it was the ghoul. Patiently waiting for him this whole time. Pitton's warped frame crashed into a bramble bush and screeched again in frustration. The thorns ripped its cloak to shreds as it tried to scramble out. Red predatory eyes focused on Moss.
"Sorry Lady Death!" Moss shouted, slamming the door closed.
He was back in the empty well. The aftermath of the battle painted the surfaces with gruesome details of the carnage that had unfolded. The keeper's feet sank into the gore that filled the bottom with a strangely comforting warmth. Here, beneath him was his objective. It wouldn't take long to piece together a whole demon, then he could…
Banish me!
The ghoul was standing between him and his graveyard.
At least I have accidentally solved the dungeons ravaging fiend problem. Though I bet Kai will somehow get the credit.
Knowing that Pittons was most likely hiding directly behind the doorway meant Moss just needed a decent cage to release him into. With the Oracle gone, he decided to finally revisit Rene with hopes he knew of another secret area that would make a great makeshift prison. Right after his next shift.

Author note: We're about halfway through the first novel. So if you've made it this far, thank you for reading and I hope you'll stay until the end. Cheers.

 

[Chaperone]

'Serious vandalism reported. ScripPosts are no longer operational. See your nearest guard for shift pay. Warning: Gnolls weren't trained to count scrips. They will punish the impatient.' Pool's axiom #743 - Herald of Truth


Moss waited in line for his work order.
Since none of his chainmates were around, he'd taken the responsibility upon himself. The vibe in the grotto was off. Usually a dismal bunch, the keepers were angry, practically fraying at the seams.
Ahead of him was a keeper called Till. A fairly sour monster even for his race's standards. He tugged his cloak, getting his attention.
"No you can't have an ebony." Till snapped at him, blowing smoke in Moss's face.
"Why're all the chains so… pissy this shift?" Moss asked.
The keeper spat black phlegm on the grotto floor. "You not been about?"
"ManaCrystal." Moss lied. "They've been bending my mind, ya know."
"Yeh… right. ScripPosts got wrecked. All over the dungeon. Only creature that could take those pillars out is the fucking ghoul. Must be trying to get rich I reckon."
The grim face of Pittons flashed through Moss's head. He should expect dwellers to talk about it more now. Ghoul sightings weren't fireside rumours any longer. Too many sightings.
Yet Moss knew this Till's theory was absolute dribble.
"It wasn't the ghoul." He said, trying not to scoff. "Why would they want scrips?"
"Get some of those new concentrated stamina potions I guess. She gets tired killing all those dwellers."
"She?"
"Yeh, Franc saw the ghoul. Was certain it was his old partner. Recognised that look of Hell in her eyes. I met her once, right bitch." He nodded along to himself.
"Anyway. Keeper's and probably the rest of the dungeon are fuming like poor dragons because Pool's is pulling our wages. Scrips are going to be delivered on SnailWagons like in the old tales. And we have to front the cost. Can you believe that?"
Moss just shook his head as the line moved on. Till was soon getting his orders and offering his opinion on the situation to the new Orderer. "Why do we suffer because some fiend got greedy. This is not a wage! It's critter crumbs, where's the rest?"
Moss tried not to laugh at the Orderer's face. But Till had a point, it wasn't the keepers fault.
Who would risk damaging so much dungeon property? And how in the Hells did they manage it.
Moss had seen Demons have a crack at them in the past. They only ended up damaging their egos. Whatever those posts are made from, it was far stronger than the BlancMetal the upper floors used.
"Next!" The Orderer yelled.
Moss couldn't help himself. "Hey, Guk. How's the new job going?"
"Fuck off, grub." The new Orderer snapped, shoving Moss's work orders into his hands. And if you say anything about scrips, I'll have you lashed."
Moss hadn't seen the keeper since FanGor tore him apart. Three fresh stitches marked where the gnolls' claws had torn his cloth.
You'd think a trip to the wells would quell his ego. But that's what happens when you suck on the key's cloth. You start wearing his rank.
"What's wrong Guk? Too windy at the top? I'm sure Kai hasn't forgotten you." Moss cackled.
Guk slashed at him. His scrolls scattered as his claws went for Moss's face.
The keeper, surprising himself, dodged the attack. Compared to HellHare's and ghouls, Guk moved like a DarkPine. Moss jumped backwards into the crowd. The Orderer's oaths were soon drowned out by the rowdy bunch.
"This is fucking dragon shit!" A keeper yelled.
"Pools wouldn't do this." Another said.
They wanted someone to blame, to burn. And Guk was standing at the centre of the bonfire.
"He's saving the best orders for his mates!" Moss yelled.
Pushing through more keepers.
"I hear he's taking half our pay!" He shouted.
Moss kept running as he provoked the aggravated mob.
Finally reaching the edge. He turned, cupping his claws to his mouth. "He gives gold to goblin younglings if they touch his feet!"
Guk was soon swarmed. The keepers tore his scrolls and cloth to shreds.
Grubs are still monsters. Moss thought, feeling happy about himself.
He set off for the fourth floor, inspecting the work order as he marched.

GRAVEYARD SHIFT WORK ORDER:
LOCATION: PyroShroom Cleft
4 x Protectors
2 x Raiders
REWARD: 6 Scrips
BONUS:
HOLYRELICS: 4 SCRIP
Dwellers: 2 SCRIP


The only way to make real scrips these days was the bonus. Which was why Moss wasn't wasting a flicker getting a few licks on Guk. He was getting to work.

Lick has increased to level 19
Shadows from the flaming mushroom caps flickered across his handy work. Moss stood proudly in front of the massive boulder that contained his entire work order. Which consisted of two gnolls, two obese dwarves, one skinny elf, two HalfGnomes and a large humanoid lizard called a Dragonette. These were often mistaken for Drakes. A monster race that also stood on two legs and was covered in scales. If anyone asked Moss to tell the difference, he'd say throw HolyWater on them and see which one screams.
Raiding parties typically varied in races. Therefore requiring most keepers to make several trips to the well and back with multiple boulders. Moss no longer had this problem.
Let's see another keeper do that with their stitched stats. Moss thought with a grandiose sense of pride.
As his Lick and BodyBoulder got stronger, the boulders grew larger. Which brought more confidence in his decision of choosing CorpseCarrier. The ability wasn't only great for work, but also survival. With that in mind, he'd pocketed a few useful body parts - all heroes, of course. Monster parts offered incredible utility for many situations. But harvesting his fellow dweller was rogue like behaviour, and punishable by removal.
Shame really, a demon's horn would make a great tool and it's not like any guards are going to check my rubbish bag. Too grubby.
After considering it, Moss realised he hadn't actually seen any dead demons, only gnolls.
Next raid. He promised himself as he got back to rolling his big boulder.
Luckily Pools, or Lady Death, were smiling on him this shift and he noticed the shallow puddle in his way. He turned to see a GreatToad glaring at him from across the trench.
Muck the bedroll, am I the fool if it happened twice? Who leaves their younglings in the middle of the busiest path?
The keeper almost told the monster how he felt, when its throat ballooned out.
Threatened, he scurried around the ball instead. Where his foot slipped, dipping into the puddle with the black wriggling creatures for a flicker.
Banish me. No wonder Pools doesn't give them a job. They're all stepped on as kids.
Moss managed to get it into the well with a satisfying plop.
As Till had said, the scrip pillars were wrecked. Torn completely free of their foundations. Parts were scattered across the floor. Some pieces even bobbed in the inky waters. Whoever had done this, was either in a hurry or looking to make a statement against the dungeon Core. Pure vandalism, robbery and blasphemy.
Beside the well stood a young gnoll. A fine, light fur covered ropey muscles. An unusual sight outside of their protected dens. These were scattered throughout the floors, and acted as training grounds for the guards. Fiercely protected, very few dwellers had ever ventured inside one.
The gnoll bounded up to Moss.
"Work order?" She asked.
Moss handed over the paper.
She read the scroll several times. Taking quite a long flicker on each word.
She looked at the large ball, only now sinking into the well's depths.
"How many was that?"
"All of them." Moss answered before quickly adding. "And three extra dwarfs… and an elf."
A few more scrips goes a long way.
"Hhhmmmm. I only saw one ball." She said,
"That's right. I have an ability-"
"Half pay." She suddenly snapped.
Moss was shocked. "Half? No, wait. I did my whole order and more. Come on now, you can check my section."
The gnoll started to growl. "I will not abandon my post. I have to check each boulders contents. Be grateful grub."
The insult felt foreign on her tongue. Something she'd heard from adults and never actually used. This was a cycle Moss didn't like, and one he'd hope to break one day.
The gnoll scribbled on his work order and stamped the mark of the Whispering Pools, before handing it back.
PAY: 4 X DUNGEON SCRIPS
He took it. Wanting to argue his case. But the gnoll's growls grew louder as she stood tall. The hair around her mane puffed out, expanding the monster's size. Typical dog behaviour. But it was effective. The little keeper scampered away.
Four bloody scrips.
He'd spent almost double that on a stamina potion before his shift. Usually a great investment, he was not massively regretting his decision. But what could the keeper do? The gnoll didn't have to be such a HellHole. Yet he couldn't completely blame her. His Orderer should have confirmed such details about the boulder checks. Even in death, Guk manged to fuck Moss over.
As the Moss moved onto the next section of the trench. He spread the news about the gnoll to any keeper he saw. Some were thankful, others barely listened. Outside of the Grotto, most keepers tended to expect the worst. It's what they were used to.
With fresh, unattended, bodies to work with. He checked them for loot first. His HolySenses made this a quick operation, since his tongue tingled near any HolyRelics
Such as the leather boots on a raider's foot. He was assaulted by a waft of vinegar as he tore it off. Nestled amongst the toes was a shiny ring.
HolyDetection has increased to level 3
Rank has increased to 39
This gave Moss an idea.
He pocketed the loot and ran through the Fungal Trenches. After passing by several areas, he saw the glow once again. Woven into the bloody hair of a witch, who'd been bludgeoned to death by a demon's mace. It would have been impossible to find without a detecting ability - like the one Moss now possessed. He had to wait for the keepers in the area to roll their boulders away, then he skulked out from the dense fungal foliage. Using his claws to tear through the mess, he found the hair pin, licking it clean for good measure.
Seems like that graverobbers not been through yet. This may be a lucrative shift after all.

 

[Chaperone]

Dungeon Scrip: 61
Moss had made a small, keeper, fortune robbing the raiding party. He'd delivered all the HolyRelics to the specialised SailWagon. Its kobold attendant had been sleeping in the back. A nice spot considering how empty it was of HolyAura. Until Moss arrived.
The kobold had happily taken his goods, even trading his work order receipt for real scrips.
"Has business been slow these shifts?" Moss had asked.
The kobold licked his eyes. "You don't worry about that little grub. Keep cleaning, we keep paying, simple."
Irritated, Moss had left for the nearest vendor. He could tell his exhaustion was catching up with him. Though dealing with kobolds was always a vexing situation.
They think they're dragons just because they travel to the lower floors. Why? All they do is drive the SnailWagons, how hard can that be?
He asked Wendy.
If you want me to find their records in the Archives, then you will have to touch one. The Flow requires connection.
I thought we had a connection?
Oh we do my little tongue monster. It's what makes us special. Unrestricted and unfiltered. But for details on a kobold, you'll have to make a connection with them first.
So you can't just look for it?
How about you jump off your high dragon, fly to the Archive and do it yourself.
Oh wait, you can't fly or read.
I can read… a little.
See, it's rude to point out a monster's shortcomings. Think before you think next time.
Moss deflated further. After discovering the Temple of Death and surviving the ghoul, he'd had a skip in his step. Feeling on top of the dungeon. But the monster's patronising tone was a reminder - nothing's changed in the eyes of other dwellers. And now he'd annoyed his Chronicler.
You're still just a grub, only now you're wrapped in a weave that no one can see.
Moss was still grumbling about it as he descended the dunes surrounding the Oasis. The Oracles hut was a charred heap now. No one had thought to rebuild and occupy the space.
He sighed at the loss of his peaceful retreat and chugged his stamina potion. The keeper's blood was more green than red these shifts.
Some SwampLeaf tea would be nice right now.
From his pocket, he removed the little coconut.
"Look where we are Po."
He swung her around as they got to the waters edge, giving her a full view of her old home. "We'll be back here with you Pa next season. I'm sure it'll all be back to normal by then."
It sounded daft to say aloud after all that had happened. But the ghoul was currently locked away. A fortunate situation for the dungeon, yet mildly inconvenient for Moss. He had questions, lots of them. And out of the monsters he knew personally with any knowledge or wisdom, two of them were out of reach - the Oracle and the gargoyles.
Which left Rene.
Probably my worst options considering the memory lost, but it will be nice to see him.
Regardless of his issues, the DarkElf was old and wise. His insights were a boon to the keeper. Plus he may know of another secret area that Moss could trap the Pittons in.
There were also the QuestGivers, Sir Quetin and Gu'Ku. Last time Moss had spoken to them in the Quarter, they'd been heading to Rene's lab. Therefore allowing the keeper to kill two critters with one stone.
For he'd finally completed his quest. Between the Believer's meeting and overhearing the demons on the Sixth. Moss was confident he knew what Queenie was planning. Revolution. Queenie was a usurper. She wanted the ghoul, and the HolyRelics, to face Pools and replace her as Core. Claiming it was for the betterment of the dwellers, when in truth she was hungry for power. Attempting to wield such dangerous weapons only further reinforced this theory. The keeper had to pass on this information.
Ultimately leading him to meet with Chow and discover the truth of the quest with his name on it.
Moss drank the final dribbles of his potion as he entered the secret area.
And found the lab empty.
Empty shelves, empty floor, empty well. The workstations and the mangled equipment were gone. Even the chains that held the WhiteDwarf had been removed.
Now with the giant crystal missing, the only light spilled in from the torches in the corridor where he stood.
"Rene!" His voice echoed back down from the high ceiling.
A quick circuit around the lab offered no details. He couldn't even check the balconies since the ladders were also missing.
Feeling lost, and lonely, Moss turned to the only person he could.
"Po, do you think something terrible has happened to Rene?" He asked the coconut child. Po stared at him with her furry, eyeless look.
Her reply was an eerie silence, which Moss read as, 'obviously'.
Finding no answers in the empty lab, the keeper left.
As the reed tunnel's light came into view, he heard a muffled cry.
He crept closer, placing his hood against a small gap in the wall. Where he heard happy words between sobs of despair.
"I'm so happy… so happy." The deep voice whimpered. "The light, I love the light."
It was the Echo. The door guardian that wouldn't open without solving its silly backwards riddle. Moss could just make out its stone face in the darkness. At least the half on this side of the hallway. It was contorted into a warped smile. Freakishly odd.
It must have been stuck there this whole time.
"Hey, are you okay?" Moss yelled into the space so he could be heard over the loud moaning.
"Oh, fine. Absolutely fine. It's great out here. With all this light to leave me alone." The Echo replied.
"Okay." Moss said, thinking for a flicker. "Did you see- or hear anyone go past recently?"
"Saw lots. Heard no one."
Moss rolled his eyes.
I'm starting to see why demons just stamp on annoying creatures.
But as the keeper listened to its miserable whimpering, he started to see it in a new light.
He'd assumed it enjoyed irritating dwellers. But what if it couldn't help it? Like a goblin obsessing about gold or a Fairy leaving dust wherever they flew.
Moss stepped out of the doorframe.
"Stay closed."
It grinded shut. Combining the two parts together to create a large, sad face.
Tap, tap, tap rang from beneath the door. Small pebbles were falling from its eyes. A steady stream of sand poured from its nostrils.
"Are you okay?" Moss asked again.
"Not now. Now I can see the dark." It snivelled. "I hate you! I fucking hate you ugly hero! Fuck you very little"
The keeper just smiled and nodded. Turning to leave when the voice called after him.
"I heard no one come through. No banging or shouts."
"And the DarkElf?"
"They didn't take the LightDwarf. It was seasons ago. Slow down, you'll never catch them." The voice boomed.
"Fuck you my enemy." Moss yelled and ran off.
He still might be able to catch them. Not that the keeper would do anything if he did. But knowing who took his friend was key to rescuing him. If it was the demons, then at least Moss could save both Rene and the Oracle in one go.
The keeper hopped on the exit rune and flew out.
He now had another quest to add to the list.

 

[Chaperone]

The inquisitor slinked off the beaten path and through the mists. Soon leaving what little light was offered within the woods.
He was being watched and followed, but only because he allowed it. They kept their distance, aware of who he was.
Yet they lack respect for one of MY station. Those little furry fuckers.
Parasites, observing our truths for sustenance, for recognition.
And now they act as superiors. They've spent too many candles looking down from the Dominion's branches, forgetting what they are.
The Elite arrived at the designated meeting place, and waited.
He'd already passed on the information he'd acquired at the Union meeting and his final assessment.

Stating; immediate action must be taken by the Core to remove the infestation. With recommendations to parade and/or display the remains through the dungeon for all dwellers to see, instilling both confidence and trust through the Whispering Pools.
Further recommendations to mark the event as a seasonal holiday and provide additional supplies and enhancers to the frontier population. Mitigating demand and stress until production returns to satisfactory levels.
Illegal enhancer trade can be alleviated through the construction of two Quarters. Rebuilding the original Minor's only facility, with an additional operation that serviced all other monsters.
Initial contact with the FakeMonarch will focus on re-establishing a positive public relationship and emphasizing the demon populations' needs.
Covert operations will embellish her ambition, narcissism, failed leadership and overall disconnect from the common dweller. A new candidate will be considered from among the legions (any notable warrior with low Wit will do), who will be pushed to challenge for the OverSeer position.
Observation of the remaining OverSeer Unionists will continue. With assassinations carried out when possible, including any confidants, friends, family members, pets or companions they may have.
Work order set by the institute are now complete.
Request for immediate departure/extraction.

The inquisitor strode back and forth, stirring the mists around the roots. He'd been waiting for SupremeSeer Chow for almost a candle now. Since the beginning of the infestation, her Archive had been in lockdown. All contact was made via CritTer observers.
A highly practical method of being infiltrated and exposed.
A rustling noise came from above, halting his pacing. Careful and calculated were what set him apart from other monsters. Not just the mark of an Elite.
The demons weren't aware of his presence in the dungeon. He'd removed many dwellers to ensure that. However the mists were known to contain multiple threats. WildOnes, wraiths and hunters were only a few of many. Most frontier monsters were no match for the Elite.
But it was the fiend he was wary of. Ghouls weren't well studied and it was not part of his work orders to test their limits. The DRE had been petitioned directly to send highly trained monstrologists to carry out this exact research. But whether this was sanctioned was beyond the inquisitor.
I will certainly be throwing the Dominion of T under the dragon during my debrief. The communication lines have been vastly underperforming and cause for a major restructure.
As if summoned by his thoughts. A sealed scroll dropped from the trees above.
The Supreme's mark, as always. He tore it open.
Mission incomplete.
Remove all Unionists.
Contain the infestation.
Extraction is denied.
He neatly folded the scroll away.
Containing his anger as he looked up to the canopy. "The Supreme doesn't have the authority to deny me. I have accomplished what the Institute requested and will have no more involvement with these upper floors."
The Elite readied himself to leave. Visibly sorting his garment of office and personal affects. As he began to march towards the Sixth, another scroll landed by his feet.
Sealed yet again. The golden wax was warm with Chow's stamp smeared across and blotched.
He didn't bother to read it. Like goblins to gold. He had got what little information the observers could offer. For he knew the practices and purpose of the Herald of Truth.
The inquisitor turned and made for the Village.
For amongst the bridges, huts and trees, was a hidden entrance to the Archive.

***

"Rainfall, mist, morning dew, waterfalls." Gu'Ku mumbled to himself.
The intense sun of the Fourth floor beat down on him. Drying his skin out, leaving it flakey and cracked.
"Smooth stones, wet leaves, marble tiles." The FortSnail groaned as the desert sands scraped his sensitive underside.
His trek across the desert had been truly awful. Many times he'd wondered how a fisherman, like the Oracle, had survived out here.
The Oasis. Gu'Ku thought. It must be wonderful to look upon.
Just as the dunes surrounding the glorious, cold, moist body of water had come into view, he'd 'ran' into his colleagues. They informed him the job was done and they were returning to their posts at once.
At once.
"Ice, WaterDragons, snow, a princess's heart."
Gu'Ku didn't even get to see a trace of blue liquid before being turned around. This was the last time he travelled for work. Never again would he leave the other floors. Never ever. In fact, he was going to ask for a transfer.
Surely this is in breach of my contract.
"Shaded trees, dark crevices, deep holes, long valleys."
The issue was, he was only 12 seasons into a 20 seasons preliminary period.
If they won't transfer me, then he'd quit.
"You hear that! I'll quit! Damn the Whispering Pools and it's misleading name!" He yelled to the blue sky that didn't contain a wisp of cloud.
I just want to go home. Nestle in my crawl space with my kids. Oh the kids' shells will be so large now. And my darling Fre'Zar will have laid another batch of younglings by now.
He saw them before him. His lips cracked into a smile.
So many little ones. So many mouths.
The moment died.
Why are they always hungry? Eating, eating, eating every scrap of green.
How can fresh vegetables be so expensive? Who am I kidding, I buy them cabbages and lettuce at the end of the day. When the leaves have wilted and dried out on the stall.
Little Tim Mai's shell didn't grow much last season. He could do with some real subsistence. If I had a bigger fort, I'd demand for a raise. Then I'd buy him a red potion. They should be a scrip a dozen in this damned place.
It's all so costly. The crawlspace, the kids, Fre'Zar's shell varnish business that never took off. I'd be at home with all those tiny mouths screaming for more. More food, more attention, more scrips so we can purchase purple dye. That'll sell darling, I promise.
A moan escaped him as reality crushed him. It was like an OgreBear had just stamped on his dreams, then soiled the remains.
Salt my skin, I need this job.
"I didn't mean it! It's a great name! I love it here." The snail sobbed out. "I just wish there were more pools."
A blue spot marked the blurry horizon. It must be a body of water, his prayers had been answered. The snail mustered all his remaining strength and sprinted across the desert. He hadn't moved this fast since his youth. No, never this fast. He realised as the puddle rapidly grew. This was the fastest he'd ever moved, that any of his kind had. It was a miracle that no one will witness but Gu'Ku. He promised to share this tale with his great grandchildren after surviving this hellscape.
He could practically taste the refreshing liquid. Dribbling down his parched throat. His eyes could no longer blink, but that was fine it was almost within grasp. So close.
He reached forward to cup his hands when the puddle lurched backwards.
"Wow, Gu'Ku." The puddle said. "You okay?"
Water can't talk. Except for WaterNymphs, but they only discuss acidity levels and algae growth. Maybe the sun had finally baked his shell and the maddness taken him. If only he hadn't experimented with ShellPlay in his youth. So many deaths from infections. What a fool he was. And now he suffered his penance.
One last sip of water. Please. Pools it's so close. If only I could see?
"My…eyes." Gu'Ku rasped. "So… dry."
"Let me help you.' The puddle said.
Pure ecstasy followed as refreshing liquid splashed over his eyes. Then ran down his tentacles and across his underbelly.
His body rippled from the sensation. Undulating his tail back and forth.
If there was any moisture left in him, he could have seeded a whole batch of eggs at that moment.
It was over in a wing beat.
Just like the last time with Fre'Zar.
He blinked the blurriness away. Revealing the keeper he'd met at the Minor's Quarter.
Now holding an empty bottle. A single droplet of water dangled from the nape.
"Is that better?"
He moved as he spoke.
The droplet fell.
It hit the sand, hissing into a tiny puff of steam.
"More." Gu'Ku pleaded.
"That's the last of it. Had to fill it up at the Oasis." The keeper pointed behind him.
Gu'Ku's eyes swiveled with the fresh lubrication to see the dune's edge only ten wyvern wings back. Roughly half a shifts trek at his pace. He'd come so far, he couldn't turn back now. He had to hand out quests. It was crucial they tip the scales before it all boiled over.
"Please…water." The FortSnail gasped, slowly pointing at the bottle and back.
The keeper swiveled the empty glass in his claws. "There's plenty at the Oasis. Do you want me to get you some?"
"Yes… Then-"
"I need some answers first." The keeper claimed. His usual passive demeanour was gone. Replaced with a cold, hard glare.
"Of course… ask… but hurry." Gu'Ku rasped out.
"The secret area I told you about. With the DarkElf. Did the QuestGiver's empty it?"
The snail's mind trickled like a damp hourglass. The constant thirst fogged his thoughts. Had we discussed the plan with this grub?
As if to answer his question. The clothed monster pulled out a QuestGiver token.
"I've completed my quest that Sir Quetin gave me. Did he complete his?" He asked.
"Yes… the RuneMaster… His equipment. It's being secured… to the Supreme's Archives..." Gu'Ku admitted.
"Where's her Archives? I could help them."
The snail tried to smile. But his lips cracked with a sharp pain. "Woods… above… Grotto." He struggled out. "Entrance… below..."
All token bearers knew of the Supreme's section in the dungeon. It was where their reviews were held and Quests distributed. Yet revealing that information was an effective way of being marked a rogue. Alas, Gu'Ku needed water more than a clean record.
"I'll go there now. After getting your water." The keeper turned to leave.
The snail had the energy to thank him, he just chose not to.
That DeadLicker should never have been trusted with a token. Their kind do not rise. If the Core are going to accept the DarkElf as a worthy payment, we can't have a grub in our shadow.
"Oh, about my quest." The keeper said, turning back around. "Queenie and her demons. They're using the HolyRelics to fight Pools. She's staging a cuu. I saw them try to capture the ghoul as well. Another weapon for the cause, that's what they claimed."
Gu'Ku didn't care, he'd be long gone before that eruption.
But the keeper was waiting, as if he expected payment.
With a lethargic nod, the FortSnail pointed towards the Oasis.
Holy hells, these maggots are insufferable. I almost want to die.
"Sir Quetin said he'd make me a full QuestGiver. As a reward for bringing back the information." The keeper flexed his claws anxiously. "I want to give back to the dungeon like you do. But I'm afraid I'll end up like the Oracle if I try."
Crack my shell.
"The Oracle… was a traitor." Gu'Ku snarled. "He ignored… Chow's orders… no more…protection-"
The bottle hit the sand.
"He was my friend."
"Water?"
"Oasis is that way." The keeper pointed before heading in the opposite direction.
All four of his stomachs sank in dread. "I need to talk to the Supreme about her 'orders'."
'Wait', he tried to say but nothing came out. His arms stretched forward, but the tight skin was restricting. The keeper was gone.
This is it.
The Oasis had always been off the beaten path by a fair margin. Now with the Oracle gone and the secret room ransacked, there was no reason for dwellers to come here, except demon patrols. His shell would sit beneath the sun for seasons. Bleaching until passing hooves stamped him into dust.
Gu'Ku thought about his life. Working for the Core, and hating it. His younglings screaming for more food while his wife squirted out more of them. The dungeon on the brink of war with a fiend on the loose. No contact from his superiors.
A smirk tried to creep out. Quickly retreating.
We're all cooked now. Why wait for later.

 

[Chaperone]

After the desert's sun, the cold air of the woods felt glorious. He'd raced across the entire floor, hoping to catch Sir Quetin. But failing due to shit short legs and stamina pool.
Couldn't have picked a worse spot to rest.
The platform was heaving with dwellers. Howlers selling their produce. Kobold stalls flowing with 7th floor enhancers and potions. Fairies milled above them all, trading their dust. The Village was alive.
A litter of furries were being led across the platform by an adult monsterette. They jostled and screamed with childish energy, poking and biting whatever they could grab.
"This is the main- Lax! HarLie! Put that down at once!" The adult yelled.
The two younglings dropped the GoldenApples they'd stolen. The poisonous fruit were instantly mushed into the planks by the crowd.
"Would you mind controlling these little ones?" An old HowlerBear asked.
"They're three seasons old." The furry snapped. "They're meant to be fiends at this age."
"I'm just asking-"
The furry rounded on him. "Get your limp whiskers out my face, old monster, before I tear that grey fur off your back. I'm looking after three litters here, so I'd appre…"
No one cares about the ghoul up here. Moss thought. No one knows about Queenie's ambitions.
It was nice to see society going about as normal. The keeper only wished he had more wax to enjoy it.
But he had a Supreme to meet.
He had been hoping to enter her Archive beside the other QuestGivers. Cementing his place amongst them, while hiding what he was. A keeper out of his depth.
Now he'd have to grow some thick cloth and do it alone.
He clenched the token in his pocket.
I have this and knowledge of the Archive's location. Chow will see I belong, especially after I tell her about Queenie's plans.
"Twice as strong, twice as long!" Yelled a kobold from his SnailWagon stall. "Supa stamina potions for half the scrips! Celebrate the 26th shift till Hallowed Eve with some sweet green!"
Pool's be praised. That exactly-
Moss was knocked over. A creature bounced on top of him. Its wet tentacle lashed his face, blinding him.
"Save me!" He cried out.
What is this demon? He thought, since he was unable to see.
Ruff-
A loud banging rattled his mind through his connection with his chronicler. Taking Moss in and out of time, while his face was being blasted.
Oh not again.
Barely audible, he heard her voice as if she'd whispered from another room. Then the Flow between them died and the keeper was left alone to deal with the beast.
It squealed as it was yanked off. Replaced with the scowling furry.
"How dare you rut with animals in public, you're going to ruin these younglings." She snapped at him. "Crawl back to that dirty cave before I call the guards, you little grub."
"Grub, grub, grub…" The litter started chanting.
Moss mumbled an apology while wiping the gruel off his face.
A HareHound sat beside him, long ears bouncing as it panted away.
It sniffed his cloth then howled to the children's delight.
Then it mounted his shoulder and started humping.
The keeper cried out again. Pushing the beast away but only managing to excite it more.
"It's a HoundSerpent." A kid yelled. "I can see it's snake."
"Stop that!" The Furry yelled. "You vile maggot!"
"It's not my fault!" Moss cried out as her claws came out.
"Maggot, maggot, maggot."
The keeper reached into his rubbish bag, hoping to grab a bone to push the beast back with.
But in his panic he emptied the sack.
Flesh, gore, sinew and blood spilled out before them.
The younglings gasped into silence.
Then dived in. Tiny claws and fangs ripped into the meat and tendons, bathing their fur in red. Fights broke out as a fat dwarf's leg was discovered, a girthy feast for the little ones.
"No!" The furry snapped. Grabbing the leg from them and shaking the younglings off. "Elders eat first." She stated before devouring it.
With the HareHound also distracted, Moss managed to crawl away.
Hood down, his claws pulled him along the slick wood.
And right into several hairy feet.
The keeper looked up, expecting more hungry dwellers, but found only familiar faces.
Tink picked him off the ground and dusted him off. "Why is it you're always making mess instead of cleaning it, lad?
"For Hell's sake, Ruffles.' Lui yelled at the HareHound. "Let them have it."
The beast, growling with a string of intestines in its jaws, was in a tug of war against several young furries.
It released it, sending them flying and shouting in victory.
"We should go." The keeper said, grabbing his mates and pulling them across the platform. "There were few bits of Elven Cleric in there. I doubt their tummy's can handle the Holy-"
"Hells bells!" A nearby Howler yelled as the younglings began spewing.
One turned as he geysered crimson liquid over the crowd like a water dragon. More liquid came out then the keeper thought possible.
That's another keeper's problem.
The group caught each other up as they made for the Grotto. Tink and Lui explained their family reunion first. Then came Moss's turn. The keeper kept his voice quiet as they made their way, ensuring the details of the ghoul, Queenie's intentions, his Temple of Death or Chow's executions of the Oracle were overheard by passing dwellers.
By the time they'd crossed the old bridge and reached the cave mouth, Tink and Lui were bewildered by his tale.
"Aye, well it certainly tops my spat with my Pa." The gnome grumbled. "Even if I'd strangled him the first snare trap we made together it would of been a piss poor story in comparison."
"The paths of us may be full of dazzling dragons and large breasted harpies. But that's not the journey you walk my friend." Lui said, putting his arm on Tink's shoulder.
The keeper felt the sentiment was received by his usually defensive friend. It was good to see them getting along like a real chain.
A large grin spread across the MolePede's face. "It's your own journey that's important in life, TinkerBell."
"TinkerBell." Moss repeated, laughing out loud. "You were named after the doomed Core of old."
"Suck my soft tool." The gnome yelled, waving his shifter around. "My Pa named me that to make me a stronger monster. Pressure either strengthens or breaks us."
The other two monsters laughed harder at the gnome defending his namesake. A few passing keepers had stopped and also joined in.
"Aye, well Lui's imbred. He's 'pure' mole." The red faced Tink snapped out.
"Oh." Moss said. "That's good. More arms to play with."
He must be able to play three lutes at once.
"Exactly what my cousin said." The mole replied.
Even Tink giggled now. A group of keepers leaving the Grotto, having spotted Moss, had joined in with the joke - regardless of understanding its context.
The gnome pointed at them, laughing harder now. "Hey Moss you guys all do look alike."
Moss spread his cloak. "You spent too long huffing furnace fumes, Tink. I have a unique pattern."
As the gnome pulled down his goggles to check, two keepers stepped out from the bunch and waved to Moss.
Before they could get within earshot, Moss explained to his friends that the entrance was down the cliff and they'd need to find a route. "I'll deal with these guys." He said as the others moved to the edge of the bridge. But Moss didn't want to draw too much attention to his activities. A keeper being friends with other races was an oddity. Moss having any friends at all was even stranger.
"Hey Moss." Kole greeted him. "You missed the meeting, that'll get you punished for being a bad grub." He wavered as he spoke, clearly enhanced.
Dill stood beside him, eyes wide with joy. "Shame we don't have an Orderer to hold the lash."
They slapped claws in excitement.
"What are you on about? What meeting?" Moss asked.
"It was trash anyway. Should have been a newsletter." Kole said.
"Yeh but then you wouldn't have read it." His mate replied.
"I thought you couldn't read, Kole." Moss said.
"I can't." He grumbled. "Not my fault, the runes always move around."
Dill leaned close to Moss, pretending to whisper but spoke loudly anyway. "Claims it's a family curse. All folks made a deal with succubus for a bigger tongue."
The two keepers collapsed into hysterical laughter. A faint hint of LowGrade Herbs tickled Moss's nose.
Good to see him happy again at least.
"What was the meeting about?" He asked.
"Just that we no longer have an Orderer!" Dill shouted into the sky.
Kole whooped beside him. "Fuck you Stew!"
"Stew?" Dill looked at his mate. "It's been Guk for an age now. Stew jumped into the mists when he lost his job."
"Is that true?" Moss asked.
"I don't know. But no one has seen him since he lost the job." Dill said.
"Couldn't handle being back with the grubs." Kole said, offering a high claw to them.
They both shook their heads.
"That's a horrible word." Moss said. "If we use it, then it gives the other dwellers permission to use it as well."
"I never thought about it that way." Dill said.
"That's inspiring." Kole said to Moss's delight. "Sounds like something Kai would say."
Moss's moment of pride quickly soured. Being compared to both the best keeper and his enemy was a confusing moment.
"Our key is looking out for us these shifts. Says he got a plan to change the whole dungeon."
"How?" Moss asked, suddenly intrigued.
"That's what the meeting was about. No more work orders or shift calls. There will be job boards on each floor now. So we're free to wander about the place and work at our leisure. If the dwellers aren't happy about it, then they can suck our cloths."
Moss considered the changes. "That sounds…"
"Amazing." Dill finished.
"...inefficient. Are the dwellers not going to kick off about it?"
"What are they going to do, report him to the guard? The gnolls were with him at the meeting."
"Fangor was there? What colour was his fur?"
Kole shrugged. "Dog colour."
"There about six of them." Dill answered.
"You didn't tell him the best part." Kole said, dancing on his feet.
"Oh yeh. Kai's going to make the OverSeer's tally the dead and post them on the boards-"
"No, not that. He's paying us a stipend." Kole said. He whipped out a full bag of herbs from his cloak. "Ten scrips every shift. And we don't even have to do anything. I've never been so rich."
"Well you did just spend it." Dill pointed out.
"Oh, yeh. But I'll be rich again tomorrow."
Moss didn't even have to ask. But he needed to confirm. "Who's paying?"
"Kai." They both said together.
His old chainmates - since chains were no longer a thing - invited him to go stroll the dungeon with them. They were going to check out the job boards. But weren't going to do any real work. Because why would they? Ten scrips wasn't going to buy them fancy clothes and decent food. But it was just enough to cover basic pleasures.
Those two will never lick another body again. Moss thought as his old chainmates left.
Kai may have made his people happy. But this wasn't going to sit well with Pools or the dungeon dwellers. Moss could see Kai being brought down off his peak and punished for it.
I wanted change. I wanted to cause ripples in our dungeon society, but he's making waves. This might be my moment to claim the crown.
"Moss, you ready?" Tink shouted from the bridge.
But right now Moss had to find the Archive.

 

[Chaperone]

"This is it." Moss said. They were in the fog of the forest floor. A great place to get lost - or hide a secret entrance. A pathway led into the cliff face. Much smaller than the cave above where the keepers lived. Yet conveniently sized to fit one of Chow's VanGuard gnolls.
"Makes you wonder how many secrets there are in the Whispering Pools." Tink said.
Shapes moved in the fog, freaking the keeper out. "Let's not ponder too long. I'm going in. Thanks for coming down here with me but I'm the only QuestGiver here. And I might still have to justify that to the Supreme. I'll meet you guys later."
Ruffles stared into the rolling white clouds, fangs bared with a silent growl.
"He reckons it's worse out here then in there." Lui pointed out.
"Aye lad." The gnome gazed out from the cliff. "Might have to agree with him. We die out here and no chance a keeper's going to find us."
"I second that." Moss said squeamishly as they heard a distant cry - or was that the wind?
They all looked at each other and moved into the tunnel.
"Maybe come until we see trouble." Moss told them. 'Then we'll go from there."
Tink nodded in agreement. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to pick that RuneMasters head."
Moss looked at the mole who simply shrugged. "Hells, I'm with you monsters all the way. Since you got me out of the Quarter in one piece, it's the least I could do."
The keeper thanked them as they entered the cliff.
Ruffles shot ahead. The HareHound could see in the low light far better than the rest of them. Though Lui didn't exactly need any in the first place.
A thick door, laden with rune etchings laid open. It swung awkwardly on it's one remaining hinge. Deep grooves covered where the handle had been.
What's happened here?
Lui whistled as his paws inspected it. "If that ghoul wasn't in your little pocket graveyard, I'd be skipping to strings of my lute in the other direction."
Moss scoffed. "It's not a little graveyard. It's the Temple of Lady Death herself. One of the three pillars that make up our realm. Her sister is the Divine. Who-"
"Lives in that wee door as well?" Tink sniggered
"No, they probably have their own world"
"Their own pocket church, some might say." Lui said, causing himself and Tink to burst out laughing.
"Oh fuck you two." Moss stormed up to the door and slapped the claw marks. "You'd both be dribbling piss by now if I hadn't caught it in my pocket world."
Tink snorted then pointed at the mole. "Lui will see colour again before I wet my overalls. Ma didn't raise a critter."
"Pipe down, TinkerBell." Lui goaded him.
His shifter was out in a flicker. "I'll beat a cripple. I've done it before."
"So it's not a SoftTool by choice." Lui chuckled.
Moss laughed nervously, but grew serious.
"We are walking into the most powerful monster's lair in the upper floors and I've got to convince her I'm meant to be there. Can we pretend to be professionals?"
"Aye."
"Sure, Moss."
Passing the door and down a long snaking corridor led to a familiar sight.
A large rune was scribed on the floor, facing a long vertical tunnel.
"It's a AirGlyph. It'll shoot us straight up." Moss explained.
"Aye and straight into the rock ceiling above. It ain't my work, so I don't like it." Tink confessed, before leaning closer to inspect it.
The keeper gave him a moment.
Knowing his friend's natural curiosity would overcome his gnomish stubbornness. Soon, his thick brows rose in appreciation.
"Beautiful work?" Lui asked.
"Aye, this is top grade." The gnome answered. He pulled a cloth scrap and charcoal to note the symbol down. "I knew following you about would pay off. I've got plenty of designs that could use this mechanism. I wonder what mana price it uses?"
Lui shook his head. "Monsters say music is difficult, then they start throwing fancy terms around like their cousin rump at Hallowed Eve."
Moss actually knew the answer. "It's what powers the Flow contained in the rune. The mana in you is how your abilities and skills work."
"Not just a cleaner I see." Tink said, impressed.
The keeper pointed upwards. "Rene taught me."
"Aye and I'm sure the DarkElf was wise enough to goblin test his theories before using them himself."
Moss rolled his eyes as he slapped the AirGlyph and hopped on the base rune.
He shot up, just like in the secret entrance below the Oasis.
The keeper sped upwards like Ombay had roared beneath his feet. His cloth whipped around from the speed, which threatened to tear his hood off.
A purple light sped towards him from above. It grew brighter and brighter.
Until he could see another rune. It activated and rapidly slowed his ascent.
Leaving him dangling over the open air. With his little feet pumping, he managed to drift onto a nearby ledge.
A goblin test might have been the way, but the Supreme isn't going to have a broken system leading to her work station.
The others soon joined him. Except Ruffles who wouldn't come close to the rune.
"That's the Hare in her. We'll grab her on the way back." Lui said. "I ain't forcing no monster against their will. That's the first step to slavery."
"Sounds like all the steps to me. But good on you for noticing." Tink said before slapping Moss on the back. "I see your cloths thickened some."
"We ain't living if we ain't leaping." Moss winked at him.
The keeper was riding a few emotions at this stage. Pride, excitement, anxiety and guilt. This was the main thing spurring him on. He'd essentially forced the DarkElf's from his secret area. A place Rene would have happily remained for the rest of his seasons. Moss had done this without realising, of course, but at the end of the shift he had been trying to elevate himself within the dungeon. A selfish act.
I'm sure Rene would have gone volunteerily. Moss lied to himself.
After discovering from Gu'Ku that Chow had had the Oracle killed for refusing to give out the Quest - and saving Moss's life -, the keeper no longer trusted them. If his old friend felt that way, then so should the keeper.
He was also fairly sure at this stage that the Supreme had set the quests herself.
But why? Why single me out?
Only in the Archive would he find the truth.
A walkway lay before them. Straight and angled like the inside of a perfect box. It was a stark contrast to the natural rolling tunnel below.
Rock patterns in the wall could be seen through the polished finish. Tink and Lui were feeling the surface, commenting on it's surreal appearance. But Moss only had eyes for the sign. It hung above the entrance.
'Archives: Dominion of Order'.
The DO. Just like the embroidery on Chow's uniform. This is it.
Down the corridor they went, it felt like they'd entered a building. A series of doors ran along either side. Each labelled with a separate symbol.
"Recognise any of them?" Moss asked his companions.
"No, it's all dribble. I rec- oh wait a flicker." The gnome stopped before a door marked with a horned skull. "Seen this one on those vials of blood I bought for my traps. Fairly certain it means demons, as in the whole race."
The rune was literally a goat's skull with twirling ram horns. Moss didn't want to point that out since Tink appeared proud that his scribing skills were being helpful.
The doors were locked, all of them. Their keyholes were blocked on the otherside, stopping anyone peering in.
Apart from the symbols, there was no obvious difference between the doors. Until the final set of double doors barring the way at the end. They'd once held a large sigil of Pools across them. At least that's what Moss comprehended from the remains. Now they were shattered and splintered.
"I wonder why the ghoul went after her?" Tink asked reading a plaque beside the door. "SupremeSeer Chow - Dominion of Order."
Lui blew a low whistle. "Now that is high class taste."
A ruined office lay before them. Varnished floorboards topped with scraps of ornate rugs. Wooden panelled walls marked by claws. Not a single tapestry or painting still remained hanging. A crystal light sparked from a crack, intricate colours flickered across the room with each burst. A breeze blew through a shattered window that made up the rear of the room.
Revealing the aftermath of a violent battle. Not a single monster stirred in the wreckage, not there remains.
"Doubt your mates ere. Sorry Moss." Tink said as he rummaged through the wreckage.
Moss nodded in agreement, but was deep in thought.
Chow, her guards, the QuestGivers, Rene and whoever else worked here are all gone. Either they fought their way out of here or died and were cleaned up.
But no blood or gore soiled the Archives, not a drop. And yet the metallic scent lingered in the air, like visiting a battlefield a few shifts after the event.
They must have left before the monster that did this came. But where to?
Moss looked back down the corridor.
"Let's try and find the keys for those doors then." Moss said.
They split up and took sections. The keeper headed to the windows which looked out on the Watchers Woods. Chow's desk lay crumpled beside it, now split in half and blocking the glass door. Each draw was open and a mess. Scrolls lay scattered by his feet. He tried to read their contents, but it was mostly numbers that had no reference.
The keeper tried to shift the desk out the way, but the HardWood material weighed more than a HowlerBear.
He went out a broken window instead, poking the remaining shards so he could step out onto the balcony.
Exotic plants in pots had once decorated the outside space. They hadn't survived the attack either. With nothing else out here, the keeper over the high railing. He could just see through the mists below, making out the shape of a rope bridge. The very same that led to the Keeper's Grotto. How many seasons has this place gone unnoticed? Sitting above the dwellers, just out of sight.
"Hey Moss." Lui called for him.
He stepped back in to find his companions beside a small well nestled in the corner.
"You ever used this one?" Tink asked.
"No. I've never even heard of work orders sending a chain- the water." He pointed out. "It's moving."
The inky black swirled slightly. Just coming to the end of working Pool's Flow. As the sparking light sprayed another flurry of light. He saw the slight shine of a trail. A blood trail hidden beneath the mess. They followed it into the corridor and under the door of a locked room.
A GraveMoth decorated its front.
Since the door was adjacent to Chow's office, Moss had been distracted and not noticed the familiar symbol.
A red glow emitted from beneath the door - and through the keyhole.
It's not blocked like the others.
Lui whistled softly, as he did every time before he spoke.
But the keeper grabbed his arm and shushed him.
He peeked into the keyhole and saw a library on the other side. The red light bloomed across shelves of scrolls. Ascending out of sight in each direction. A shape sat at a desk, heavily invested in a scroll.
Splash!
The well sloshed as it finished its revival.
Tink and Lui turned to see, but Moss only had eyes for the keyhole.
The shadowed figure shifted.
Its body was framed by the light, a red halo crested its head as it stood up.
And made for the door.