Dungeon:[structure][type]: Dungeons fall into one of four structure types based on their layout and orientation. Catacombs are underground dungeons with only one or two sprawling floors. Their counterpart is the compound, which is an above ground dungeon with only one or two sprawling floors. The other pair is the well/tower with their multiple smaller floors oriented either below or above ground. Dungeon structures cannot be determined from the outside, and only become apparent as they are explored.

  One of the two front display windows lay in ruins. All of the stock that had been there was gone, leaving behind only the glittering motes of shattered glass. Joe couldn’t believe it. In all the time he’d lived in Acadamyway he’d never even heard of an instance of vandalism, much less seen one. Now here he was with a busted window and stolen goods. I can make an educated guess on who ultimately is responsible for this, but I’m equally sure there’s no way of proving it. Instead, he waited for Paul to get back and went to buy some boards to seal up the opening.

  Paul was beside himself. As Joe guessed, this sort of thing just didn’t happen in the sleepy little college town. When Joe tried to pay for what he needed, Paul refused. Apparently vandalism and lost stock was covered under the insurance that was included in Joe’s guild dues. Joe didn’t argue with him and he soon had the breach sealed.

  The next few weeks left Joe in a bit of a funk. Gerald and the broken window weren't the only things weighing on his mind. The contract with the adventurers guild was an absolute pain in his neck to deal with. Their first counter offer was a pitiful monthly stipend paid out on guild credit with zero access to the dungeon. Not only the dungeon, but Joe’s own basement as well. The representative they sent, a sapphire blue Lamnotta in a finely cut black suit, explained it as a needed safety buffer and guild staging area. The rep had urged Joe to sign the agreement, stating that the guild would not be willing to hear a counter offer and would move towards sole dominion proceedings if Joe refused to work with them.

  Joe had, of course, instantly tapped Paul who sent the guild rep packing with a counter offer and a colorfully worded rebuttal. From there it devolved into a series of increasingly terse back and forth messages and thinly veiled threats. Joe grew to hate getting mail, knowing that even if the adventurers guild budged an inch, they’d ask for a mile in return. They eventually settled on a five silver a month stipend in guild credit for the use of the dungeon, plus a once a month delving that he got to keep eighty five percent of plus guards. It was far less than he’d originally asked for, but Paul seemed happy with it so Joe wasn’t going to complain. Joe had the whole five silver credit assigned to Pual, despite the hob’s protestations.

  Gerald senior, or rather a representative of Gerald senior, came around a few days after the window incident. As Paul had guessed, they were there to discuss a settlement for the actions of his son. It was a mighty good settlement, with a mighty big caveat. If Joe took the money, he could legally never mention the incident again in any capacity. Doing so would not only cause him to have to pay back the whole amount of the settlement, but further fees would be applied on top of it. The total was more than enough to completely ruin him. He turned the offer down, deciding it was best not to take that poisoned apple.

  The only bright spot of those weeks were the handful of nights he spent at the Fairchild household. Things were still a little awkward between him and Moira as they figured each other out, but slowly the two were getting to know one another better. Joe still walked home after dinner each time. Moira had said sex was off the table, and Joe had taken that to mean sleeping over as well. The rest of the family warmed up to Joe remarkably quickly. Gretta just seemed happy that her employer had found someone, while Sarah had taken to him immediately. The novelty of a new person in the house was enough to win the exuberant catgirl over.

  In fact Joe had quite the opposite issue with Sarah that he had with Moira. While her mother still remained somewhat cagy and reserved, the six year old just wouldn’t leave Joe alone. She constantly wanted him to come play with her, attempting to drag him off to her toy chest as soon as he arrived. Joe made sure to spend some time with her, but also let it be known that he was there to see her mother as well. Usually Gretta would come rescue Joe, eventually.

  Like Paul before her, Moira was aghast at the casual vandalism of his home. She had assured him that the local guard was quite good, and did not take kindly to that sort of thing. She also let him know that his guild insurance covered a replacement window, which she got to work on the morning after he told her and in short order Moira had the glass ready for Joe. She wasn’t able to install it however, which led to Joe finally meeting Rah’ll.

  The C’tahl had a Jaguar-like head and deep blue black fur. He was apparently a man of few words, preferring instead to simply nod or shake his head if that would get his meaning across. Paul had been right in that Joe claiming the half charter for enchanting would be the push the young C’tahl had needed. He still helped extensively on his parents farm, but had started to branch out into domestic runework and household repairs. He had Joe’s new window hung, and an alarm enchantment placed in a little under a day.

  It was after the window was finally repaired that Joe started to really wonder about delving. A quick talk with Paul got the right paperwork filled out, and soon Joe was prepping for his first ever dungeon delve. When it came to who he wanted to escort him, he could think of only two people he knew and trusted enough to ask.

  Micah and Jill showed up on the day of the delve around dawn. They’d warned Joe ahead of time that it was important to start early on a long delve. Joe wasn’t sure what to expect, so he’d spent the last few days prepping a variety of potions that he thought might be handy. What he ended up with was a grab bag mix of healing and buffing potions of a higher grade than he usually made. Although he thought as he carefully packed the used satchel he’d bought from the Meadowbrooks. Now that I have a sanctioned dungeon tucked into the basement, I’ll probably get more of a call for these grade two potions so I shouldn’t use them willy nilly down there. Whatever I bring back I can always resell.

  There came a quick succession of knocks on his front door, which was followed a moment later by the creak of its opening.

  “Knock, knock, hired escorts here to serve.”

  Joe had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he trusted himself to respond to Micah’s unintentional double entendre. When Joe felt he could give a proper response he nodded to the young minotaur. “Morning you two, I’m just finishing up packing.”

  “Bought the food and water we told you to get?” Micah asked, coming up to the counter and leaning an elbow on its glass top. Goober popped up and gave him a greeting lick which caused Micah to gag as he got a full blast of Goober's halitosis. Joe tried to keep the laughter out of his voice and only failed a little.

  “Yeah,” he said, patting the overstuffed canvas bag on the counter next to him. “I’m also packing a few other things that I thought might come in handy.”

  Micah and Jil exchanged a look before Jill held out her hands. “May I look over the contents Mr.Alderbright?” she asked in her normal neutral tone. Joe gave a shrug and pushed the bag over to her. Jill tugged at the straps to loosen them and peered inside. “This is quite the assortment of potions Mr.Alderbright. Are you sure we need so many?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me.I was told anything could happen in an aberrant dungeon.” Joe knew he was being more than a little defensive, but he’d really worked hard getting those potions together. “I wanted to make sure we were prepared for whatever it tried to throw at us.” He watched as Jill pulled out one of the standard sized bottles, specifically the tall rectangular ones which packed the best and were easy to label. The label ran vertically along the long edge of the bottle, which meant Jill had to tilt it sideways to read.

  “Water breathing potion.” She glanced back into the bag. “You appear to have six of these?” Joe nodded, already feeling more than a little foolish.

  “They only last for half an hour each, that amount would give us each an hour of time.”

  Jill nodded and set the bottle back into its place before withdrawing another. “Fire resistance” she read outloud.

  “Joe,” Micah said, and Joe could already hear the admonishing lecture creeping into the man's voice.

  “I wanted to be prepared.” Joe cut him off before he could start in. It took me three days to brew all those potions while keeping up with the shop and I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave them behind. Alright it might be a bit overcautious, but we’re literally going into a chaos dungeon.

  “This level of preparedness usually is accomplished through condensed potions or pills.” Jill placed the potion back in the bag before closing and returning it to Joe. “As it is, it’s too heavy to carry comfortably, especially since you packed it into a shoulder bag.” Before Joe could protest she held up her hand to silence him. “We’ll cache the majority of them just inside the threshold to the dungeon. As long as we don’t all step outside, the dungeon shouldn’t try and shift under us.”

  “Shift?” Joe accepted the bag back, but couldn’t stop himself from asking.

  Micah took over for his companion. “The exact mechanics aren’t fully understood, but basically so long as a sentient individual is within a dungeon they seem to exert a certain amount of stability to it. In the absence of this stability dungeons will rapidly shift states within the confines of their aura signature. The layout, monsters, hazards and harvestable resources all change around and replenish themselves. So long as there’s enough mana to create them.”

  “What happens if there’s not?” Joe asked.

  “The dungeon collapses and winks out of existence. That’s the dungeon’s ‘life span’ I talked about earlier. Essentially, how long do you have to harvest resources before the mana runs out.” Micah gave a shrug, “sometimes dungeons will pull in more mana and replenish themselves, sometimes they won't. There’s no way to know right away.” He glanced at Jill, raising an eyebrow as he did so. There was a moment of unspoken communication between them that ended with the barest of head shakes from the lamnotta. Micah turned back to Joe, eyebrow still cocked. “All that prepwork and you didn’t pack a weapon?”

  “I don’t have one.” Joe admitted, “plus I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to carry one since I’m not a guild member.”

  “It’s quite the opposite,” Jill stated. She pulled her own pack around and unlatched a familiar looking weapon from its side. “The guild requires all participants in a delve to be armed. You can borrow my handshaker for this trip, but you’ll need to purchase and get comfortable with your own weapon before the next delve.” She handed Joe what looked like a fat spear. It was about four feet in length and as thick as his forearm at its widest point. Said point was quite pointy, as it had been capped in metal with a foot long steel spike sticking out of the end.

  They have geodendags here Joe thought as he took the weapon from Jill. I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like it’s a complicated concept to grasp.

  Micah nodded. “Good call Jill, everyone knows how to shake hands.”

  Joe smiled at that. I wonder if that’s how it got its name. Now property equipped, the trio descended the stairs into the basement. There had been some changes down there in the last few weeks as well. Namely the addition of a set of worn, but serviceable benches pushed up against one wall. Joe’s dungeon had become a popular one, with groups queuing up sometimes three or four deep. He’d finally taken pity on them and installed the benches, purchased of course from his ever helpful neighbors. I wonder if I should get some games down here, maybe a table like the ones at Two Brother’s. A vision of a cozy little tavern in his basement flashed across his mind.

  There could be a bar in one corner that served adventurers drinks as they waited, with a few tables set up so groups could plan their next delve, or sort through what they’d brought back. He could even rig up a bell system so groups could stand inside the dungeon and get his attention to buy replacement potions without having to step out and reset the dungeon. He couldn’t do it of course, the charters for the four restaurants were already claimed. Even if one was available, he’d have to abandon one of his current charters to get it. Maybe I could partner with someone. I wonder if Merrie Carrie would like to open a satellite shop. So long as she still trusts me to have ideas. Joe could still taste the ghost of their failed stamina potion drinks on his tongue.

  All that was a thought for another day however, so Joe brought himself back to the present. Micah had opened the dungeon door to reveal the iridescent barrier the adventurers guild had erected just inside the entry. It was meant to repel mana constructed monsters and keep them from exiting. It would also solidify behind anyone going the other direction, not allowing another group in until the first was safely out. It was a sort of tag in/ tag out system. If they went over their allotted time, they had better have a good reason when the guild rescue squad showed up.

  One of the stipulations in Joe’s contract was the ability to reserve the dungeon for the whole day instead of for the two hour chunks most people got. Paul had told him that only the most popular dungeons did that, with remote dungeons being far less policed, and far more dangerous because of it.

  Stepping through the barrier felt like pushing through cold television static, a penetrating pins and needles sensation that set Joe's teeth on edge and made his skin feel slimy for several seconds after he’d passed beyond it. They took a moment to dig through Joe’s pack and cache all the situational potions and half his healing ones before they moved deeper into the dungeon. The corridor beyond was different then the last time Joe had been down here. Instead of the T junction he remembered, the hall gently curved to the right with the tunnel’s end lost to the slope of the curve.

  “Alright crew,” Micah said, a business-like tone entering his voice. “We’re officially in it now. Keep your eyes open and call out anything that looks odd to you.” He glanced at Joe. “And I do mean anything. Even if you think it’s nothing, point it out. It’s better to be weary than dead.”

  Joe nodded, gripping his handshaker tighter as they moved down the tunnel. He was holding it in a spear grip, the corridor being too narrow for a good swing. Darkness soon enveloped them as they got further around the curve of the tunnel. Before it could fully cut off the light from the entrance, Jill set a bronze manacoin alight with a candlelight spell and threw back the darkness again. The tunnel was still made of the familiar sandstone Joe had seen when he first peeked inside, but now it was splotched with moisture and lichen. The air felt thick with ice cold moisture that cut straight through his linen shirt and pants with the distant roar of rushing water bouncing off the walls from further down the path. “I have some cold resist potions back in the stash,” Joe tried to sound casual, but the cold made it difficult. “ Should we double back and get them?”

  “No,” Jill sounded completely unphased by the clammy conditions despite her gelatinous body. “Those are good to well below freezing. We shouldn’t waste them when it’s still this warm.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Warm.” Joe grumped, which got a chuckle from Micah.

  “Hey try being in my shoes.” He laughed, shouldering the two handed great sword he carried and flexing a bare bicep. Like every other time Joe had seen him, the minotaur was clothed in a loincloth and a smile. Today though his look was accented by a plethora of leather pouches strapped around the circumference of his waist. Of the two of Joe’s companions, only Jill was wearing armor. She had a small leather day pack attached to her leather armor directly so as not to restrict her arms with straps. At first Joe wondered how she got anything out of it, then he’d watched her retrieve a small pistol bow from its depths. Her arm had simply stretched back over her head far enough to access the pack with no regaurd to where an elbow should be placed. The bolts for her pistol bow sat in two rows strapped to the front of her armor just under her breasts where they were secured, but still within easy reach. By comparison, Joe looked and felt like a peasant. He was wearing no armor and carrying what amounted to a pointy stick.

  They had continued down the corridor while they talked and had finally gotten to the point where the group could see the room beyond. The air here was even damper, if that was possible. More intolerable than that however was the noise. It had slowly been getting louder the further down the tunnel they’d gone. Now on the threshold to the next room it was deafening.

  The reason wasn’t hard to see. As they stepped beyond the doorway, Joe’s jaw dropped. The room was a massive natural cavern that shot straight down further than their light could reach. The vertical space was crossed by a number of moisture slick ruined bridges that looked on the verge of collapse. A massive waterfall emerged from a fissure near the top of the cave and plummeted into the depths, drenching the lower bridges and adding to their danger.

  “Whoa,” Joe whispered, awe leaking out of his voice. “ So this is what a well type dungeon looks like?” He had to raise his voice to be heard above the noise.

  “Not necessarily,” Jill answered, craning her neck to look into the darkness below. Without seeming to be aware he was doing it, Micah reached over and gripped her belt. “ A well can be any subterranean dungeon with multiple , small floors. This one just happened to take on the appearance of a natural well.” She stepped back from the edge and looked over at them, either not noticing what Micah had done, or not caring. “I can count at least six paths further down, with likely more outside the range of our light. No discernable movement, but be aware of ambush predators the further down we go.”

  Micah and Joe both nodded before they continued out along the first bridge. It was just as treacherous as it looked, being covered in water and thick with slime. Joe slipped about two thirds of the way across, but was caught from behind by Jill before he could bounce off the unforgiving stonework. They made it the rest of the way without incident, leaving Joe a bit shaken but unharmed. The next chamber kept the cave motif of the last, with the added touch of an abandoned mineworks.

  Decrepit wooden platforms lined the walls giving access to higher veins of ore with crates and rubble piles collected underneath. A makeshift command center had been erected on a raised wooden platform in the center of it all made of marginally more stable looking planks. On it squatted a long low table and several chairs. The table itself was covered in papers, as well as several mineral specimens. No immediate threat presented itself, so the group cautiously made their way into the room. Joe moved up onto the central platform and picked up one of the papers.

  My linguistics ability isn’t even trying on this one. I’m not surprised though, this looks like it was written by an A.I.

  “Don’t even bother with those.” Micah said, picking up one of the fist sized crystal specimens and somehow getting it to fit into a belt pouch. “Dungeon generated text is always garbage. Don’t trust any maps either, they’re never right.” He managed to get three more specimens into the same pouch before Joe really started to get suspicious. Wait, are those all bags of holding?

  While Micah finished with the table, Jill scanned the room around them. After a moment she pointed casually towards a large pile of wooden crates stacked haphazardly in one corner. “Mimic” she said with no more emphasis than if she was simply stating the word.

  Micah glanced up at the pile. “More than one?”

  Jill shook her head without taking her eyes off the crates. “I only saw the one move, but I think it’s alone.”

  “How do you know that?” Joe asked. He’d been starting at the crates since Jill had first pointed them out and they looked identical to him.

  “The boards on the others in the stack are all either horizontal or vertical, The ones on the end crate run slightly irregular, going up at a ten degree angle.” Joe squinted at the indicated box. Now that he was looking for it, he could indeed see that the planks it was made out of didn’t seem to line up right when compared to the others. It was subtle, but noticeable if pointed out.

  “It’s not near the exit to the next room, what do you think Jill?” Micah didn’t look away from the crates as he addressed his partner. As if made uncomfortable by the three staring adventurers, the crate in question very slightly scooted away from them.

  “Leave it. If it blocks our accent we will deal with it then.” Jill answered.

  “True, but we’re close to the entrance. Mimics might be a good monster type for Joe to cut his teeth on. We can fall back to the potion cache if it goes really bad.” He finally broke his staring contest with the wood of the box to look at Joe before continuing. “‘Mimic’ is a general monster type. They tend to be slower ambush style predators that rely on a good first hit, but are otherwise pretty weak.”

  “Usually,” Jill added.

  “Usually,” Micah conceded, “I bet that you can set it off early though if you tag it with one of your bolts. Then Joe can move in and kill it before it’s had a chance to reset itself.”

  Jill’s all black eyes made it difficult for Joe to discern what she was looking at if she didn’t turn her head, but he got the distinct impression that she was looking out of the corner of her eye at him. A moment later she addressed him. “What do you think Mr.Alderbright? Would you be willing to fight alongside us?”

  Joe gripped his handshaker a little tighter and nodded. It was part of what he was down here for after all. The “fight” with Gerald had left a sour taste in his mouth. Delving seemed like the best way to learn how to defend himself.

  His nod was returned by Micah before the minotaur sketched out the plan. “Alright, Jill will get its attention with a bolt. It’ll likely turn to attack her. While it’s distracted you need to rush in as fast as you can and get your handshaker into anything that looks vulnerable. I’ll hang back and bail you out if things look like they’re going sideways, ok?”

  “Ok, Any advice on how to take down a mimic?” Joe asked.

  “Mimic’s generally fall into a few different categories.” Jill’s monotone voice somehow took on an almost lecturing quality, like a text to speech program reading school notes. “They are usually either ooze, insectoid, enchanted, or flesh based on what is under their false front.”

  Gods I hope it’s not a flesh mimic Joe silently prayed before Jill continued.

  “If the mimic is ooze based, then your weapon won't work on it. You need to not engage it at that point and let me handle it. If it’s insectoid, swing for joints if at all possible. If you can reach its underbelly, use the tip of the handshaker in any seam you can find. If it’s enchanted, again do not engage. Instead leave it to me. If it’s flesh, use the tip to make as many puncture wounds as possible to bleed it out.”

  “Wonderful, and I assume the only way to find out is to pop it open?” Joe couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice even if he’d felt like trying. That’s a lot to remember. Ok, basically if it looks like a bug; smash it. If it looks like meat; poke it. If it looks like anything else; run away.

  “Basically,” Micah chuckled, one of the minotaurs' meaty hands landed on Joe’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But remember; we’ll be here to back you up.”

  Joe took a deep breath. “Ok, do it.”

  Jill’s bolt struck the box on its closest face. A second later a return jet of sticky mucus fired back at them with a startling amount of accuracy. Joe had to jump out of the way or else take it in the chest. The offending box was some thirty feet away when he rolled to his feet, only to have to dodge another money shot. The crate cracked open at the seams, sagging pink flesh pouring out of the freshly opened gaps. The lid hinged up on a mollusk-like foot, allowing a circular mouth full of too-human teeth to rise into the air.

  “Close with it!” Micah yelled from somewhere behind Joe. “You don’t have a ranged option.”

  Cursing himself internally, Joe got to his feet and made a dash at the horror. He had just enough time to notice what looked like a flabby breast swell up along the creatures neck before he was forced to dodge another geyser of mucus.

  “This has to be the grossest thing I have ever seen!” Joe yelled as he soldered back to his feet.

  “Welcome to an aberrant dungeon!” Micah laughed.

  Joe was finally able to clear the distance between himself and the wobbly nightmare, wheezing like the serial smoker he was. I am so fucking out of shape Joe whined in the privacy of his own head. Lacking any better target, Joe thrust the tip of his handshaker into the ‘throat’ of the creature. The mimic’s reaction was unpleasant. It let out a low bellow of pain as half a dozen new, what Joe was choosing to call ‘mucus sacks’, swelled up and discharged their payloads in a wide circle around the beast.

  Joe just managed to dodge it by ducking down behind one of the wooden panels that made up the creatures shell. Well, I’m committed now. If I even take one step backwards, I’ll be caught up in that goo. Joe gripped the protruding end of the handshaker and yanked it back out of the create. The tip came free followed by a fountain of red brown ichor that made Joe gag. Staying as low as he could, Joe drove the sharp end of his weapon up over his head and into the fleshy side of the mimic several more times.

  The beast didn’t take kindly to this development. It twisted around, managing to bend double and thrust its mouth down at Joe. More by instinct than tactics, Joe thrust the business end of his handshaker upwards. His only thought was to try and prevent the jaws from closing around him, but he managed to score a hit deep within the creature's mouth. Said mouth snapped shut an instant after Joe yanked his arm back out of the way, closing on the shaft of his weapon. The mimic reared up, handshaker still clenched between its teeth like an oversized toothpick, when it was eclipsed by Micah falling from above. The minotaur had cleared the distance at a charge, before leaping over both the pools of mucus and Joe to deliver a dive bomb attack that split the horror in two.

  Unfortunately, Joe and his rescuer were caught in the splash zone as the mimic’s body popped like a gore filled balloon. Joe didn’t even try to keep himself from throwing up. The smell of the monster's innards was too much for him. It was like a mixture of an abattoir and a chemical factory. The fumes coming off the hunks of mimic were causing his eyes to burn.

  “Jill,” Micah coughed, doing only marginally better than Joe, “any time you’re ready.”

  The two of them were drenched in a short, but intense shower of cool rain. Wherever it touched the ichor of the deceased mimic, it drew the foulness into itself before evaporating away, leaving only damp soil in its wake.

  “Gods above,” Joe swore, still gagging and coughing despite the shower. “Do they all do that when they die?”

  “No,” Jill moved up to her companions now that they were clean. ‘Micah likely burst whatever internal organs held the different chemicals it used to produce its slime. Most of the time they just fall over and don’t get back up.” She looked at Micah who stuck out his tongue at her. She bent down and picked up her handshaker and offered it to Joe. There were now prominent indents just behind the metal head. Joe couldn’t help but think what sort of damage the teeth of the mimic would have done to his arm if he’d not gotten it out of the way in time.

  Jill must have misinterpreted his look, as she set a hand on his shoulder and said in her even, flat tone. “The weapon is still structurally sound despite the damage. You have not done anything to it that I have not done as well.”

  “Oh, well, ah, if you say so.” Joe stammered, not entirely sure how to respond to her attempted reassurance. After a few minutes for Joe to get his breathing under control they moved on.

  The next two rooms proved to be less harrowing for Joe, Although they did provide a modicum of catharsis for the still jittery chemist. The monsters they encountered were charybdis stars, the first monster Joe had ever seen and the one that still occasionally hunted his nightmares. By the time they had made it back to the bridge room, Joe had gotten fairly good at baiting them into falling off the ceiling and right into a perfect baseball swing which saw them take a short, terminal flight into the nearest wall. The abandoned mine theme continued, with more platforms and workstations scattered around the periphery. They had obtained a few more mineral specimens, as well as a small pouch of thumb sized gold bars before their path looped them back into the well room.

  They were now two bridges down from the entrance however. When Joe pointed this out to his companions, they just shrugged and said it was an aberrant dungeon. The path beyond was more of the same, more ambush style monsters including an insectoid mimic that was both less and more horrifying than the flesh mimic before it. By this point Joe felt like he was getting his feet under him. As he dug around in a spoils heap he reviewed what he’d learned so far. Ok, so most dungeons follow a structure type. This one is a well, which is an underground dungeon with lots of smaller floors. It also has an aura signature which is supposed to give you an idea of what it’ll be like. Except this is an aberrant dungeon, which means it’s theme is ‘fuck you’. There are four basic classifications of mimics, two of which require magic to fight. Joe dug his arm in up to the elbow, navigating by touch and guess work as he looked for anything valuable. His diligence was rewarded when he dug out a large red faceted gem about the size of his thumbnail.

  Firelight Gemstone

  Fire aligned enchanted gemstone that provides a small boost to users core temperature as well as a persistent glow when activated. 1mu/ 2 minutes

  30/30 mu

  Sweet. Joe pocketed the gemstone, already knowing who he was going to give it to. He left the spoils heap brimming with confidence in himself. This happy state lasted right up until they crossed the next bridge and he came face to face with a metal door. What the fuck? That looks like an airlock to a spaceship.

  Beside him Micah groaned. “Oh great, we’ve got metal elementals…”

  <><><>

  Goober let out an almighty yawn before setting his head down on the counter. Guard duty was so much more boring than vermin hunts. Unfortunately his demonstration of strength against the three Nothounds that had challenged Bighound had finally shown Bighound the value of exterminating vermin. Goober had been a little hurt when Bighound had chosen to take the two Nothounds with him instead of Goober. Perhaps he was training them up to be additional guards. Not that Goober thought the pack needed it. He’d been more than a match for the three Nothounds before. Perhaps he'd see Littlehound while he was down there fighting vermin. Goober shifted on the large wooden crate Bighound had given him so he could see over the counter without standing. It was comfortable enough after he’d piled up the blankets from Bighound’s bed on it.

  With that line of thinking done, and nothing else of interest happening around him, Goober decided to switch off his brain for a bit. Some indeterminate time later, he was woken from his stupor by the front door opening and admitting a Nothound he did not recognize. By itself this wasn’t particularly alarming, as Goober didn’t recognize most things. Goober was also dimly aware of the transactional nature of the front of the shop. This was a space that Nothounds were allowed to be. They came in, they selected things they took a liking to, and in exchange for letting them keep those things they left tribute to Bighound in the form of small pieces of mana that Bighound seemed partial to.

  The Nothound in front of Goober announced itself, as was proper for a Nothound to do. It seemed unsure of itself when there was no answer, so Goober gave one half hearted woof to let the Nothound know he was aware of it, and to be on their best behavior.

  The Nothound gave him a look Goober didn’t understand and therefore didn’t care about, before calling out again. When no response seemed forthcoming, the Nothound began to swiftly move around the room, loading it's pitiful forpaws full of Bighounds bounty. It wasn’t until the Nothound tried to move to the door without leaving tribute that Goober realized something was wrong.

  He let out a low, threatening growl that stopped the Nothound in its tracks. It looked back at him, eyes wide with an appropriate amount of terror. Goober yawned, not because he was tired but to show the Nothound just how many teeth he had. They paled as they beheld his might, as they should. With indecent haste, the Nothound crossed to the counter by Goober and dropped several of the small mana fragments in front of him.

  Goober was incapable of exact counting, as it was beneath him. He was however able to tell when things were more or less than they should be. The pile of mana fragments the Nothound had laid out was less than it should be. Goober made a show of inspecting them, which the Nothound seemed to take as acceptance. They were almost to the door when they were once again stopped by a warning growl.

  Goober’s shoulders brushed both sides of the opening as he came around the counter and onto the shop floor, hackles raised in indignation. He took up position by the door and glared at the Nothound, giving it one more chance. They backpedaled towards the counter where they dropped more of the mana fragments next to the others. Goober couldn’t see how much more was added. He decided that whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. The Nothound looked about ready to submissively urinate when Goober let out a single bark that rattled the windows in their frames. They took a pouch from their belt and emptied its contents onto the counter. The fact a significant number of mana fragments fell from it told Goober that he’d been right to demand more.

  Finally satisfied, Goober moved aside to allow the Nothound to flee the shop. Once they had gone, Goober wandered back to his spot behind the counter and tried to get back to doing nothing. The pile of mana fragments were in the way of him setting his head down on the counter. A quick swipe with his paw sent them to the floor where Goober promptly forgot about them.