This follows Damage Management Team Part IV, Part III, Part II, and Part I…
“Soooo… how long have you been in…?” Fror leaned back as he asked the question, not sure where to take it.
“Dungeon Management.” I inserted for him.
“Right. Dungeon Management?” Fror leaned back over the pleasantly crackling fire. “Grunk?”
“My entire adult life… so about fifteen years?” Grunk flicked a toothpick into the fire, watching it catch as it fell amongst the embers.
“Teller? How about you?” Fror was being polite.
He wasn’t a total orc taint, but he was still a dwarf, and an explorer. So he had a couple strikes against him. And I was going to hold them against him. I was goblin. We are great at grudges.
“I started in Dungeon Management after a stint in farming. It was what my dad and mom did, but it wasn’t for me. I have been at this for only six years.”
“This is my first year,” Omish volunteered.
Christoph chewed on a bit of journey cake, nibbling the corner thoughtfully. “When you do start working?”
“Five,” Grunk offered.
“Wow. Five years old.” Christoph nodded. “How long do Goblins usually live for?”
“My grandpappy died at the age of thirty. But I would be most of us kick off well before that.” Grunk shifted in his seat and I knew that he was farting. He would blame Omish if anyone looked uncomfortable.
No one noticed.
Does that mean that everyone was farting?
Should I be farting?
I had never hung out around a fire with a party of explorers before.
“Wait, that can’t be right.” Streya hooked her thumb and finger into some old bow twine she was refining into lashing. “I met Miki, what? Twenty five years ago? When I had my outparty?”
Miki winked salaciously. “Your fifty fifth! I remember that! Oh, I got so drunk!”
“You set the salad bar on fire. My da was pissed.”
“Who wants salad at a coming of age? Come on, Streya, beers and steaks. That’s all you need!” Miki laughed.
“Hold on. Back the fuck right up-” I interjected across their jog down memory lane.
All four of the explorers stopped and turned expectantly. Miki made a face. Something between an eyeroll and admonishment.
“Let me ask you a question first, Teller. Why do you think Goblins only live for twenty five years? And before you give me some bullshit… think about this. Christoph? How old are you?”
“Twenty eight.” The human meat shield replied.
“Fror?”
“I just had my one hundredth and fourth.” The beard with arms replied.
“Streya?”
“Eighty even. Still a maiden.” Streya crossed her huge hairy feet like she was keeping a secret.
“And I am nearing fifty.” Miki finished. She waved at me as if I needed permission to answer her dumb question.
“Stress?” I offered lamely.
Grunk nodded as if what I said made perfect sense. Omish, poor kid, looked so confused his might spin backwards and fall off.
“No. Not stress. This is an extractive ecosystem. This whole thing.” Miki waved her arms erratically.
“The whole thing? What whole thing?” I said.
“The Underfell.” Christoph said kindly, his voice was gentle. A stark contrast to the huge sword at his waist.
Grunk shook his head emphatically. “That is a lie.”
“I assure you it is not,” Streya said.
Miki continued, “Three hundred years ago the Underfell Wizardking was just another guy. War came to his part of the world-“
“We all know the story,” Grunk crossed him arms, his body reflected his opinion. “His family, his people, all of them were killed. He searched the world to find a way to protect others, those that could not protect themselves. He created the Underfell, reshaping the world to allow those that had been beneath the heels of the world above to have a place down below. He locked you all out from those protected spaces. He gave us the ability to choose for ourselves.”
“That is what they told you?” Miki was making that confused face again.
“That is what happened,” Grunk asserted firmly.
“Oh that is what happened, alright. But not for the reasons you think.” Miki snapped her fingers, a set of sparks lighting the space. “And you do NOT have a choice.”
“I have a choice.” I said.
“You have the illusion of a choice.” Miki fired back. “But you are inside one of the largest lifeforce generators ever devised. And everything you do is to keep it running. Smoothly.”
I frowned angrily, “This is dumb.”
“It might seem that way. But the Underfell Wizardking did not win three hundred years ago. He was defeated.” Fror recalled sadly. “Many were lost that day. My father included. Many tens of thousands of good people were lost. We believed it was a mighty victory under the direst of circumstances.”
“So you are telling us, that the Underfell Wizardking… fucking died? And then created the Underfell? And he just decided to hole up for three hundred years?” Grunk said, his lip curled like he was smelling a shit smeared across this upper lip. “This is bullshit. Look at all that he has done for us? For all the species underfoot of the ‘humans’ and the ‘elves’ and the ‘approved races’.” Grunk added air quotes for each, as if he was using prejorative slang. “The WizardKing has done more for all of our lot than any of your kind. What have you ever done? I mean besides kill us?”
Fror showed his teeth (a mash of white squares nestled in the darkness of his bushiness), “You think the dwarves have had it any easier? Or the Elves? Or the Humans? Or the Halflings? Our kind have seen violence and death just as much as your kinds, and usually at the hand of you and yours.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Christoph sighed. “Can we just agree for right now that none of us wishes harm to any of the others?”
Everyone nodded slowly, except me.
“No.” I grimaced. “I very much wish I could harm all of you. For being dumb. Grunk is right. We were the ones being stepped on. When have goblins ever won anything? We are not even in the middle of the food chain compared to all of you. And the Underking has been nothing but a protector for us.”
“I know you believe that…” Miki tipped her chin upwards, looking at the ceiling as if she searched for inspiration. “But the Underking is using you. All of you.”
Streya pulled an old flechette arrowtip from a pocket to pick at her teeth with the sharp point. “Teller. Look at me.”
“What!? I mean, what are you? A stunted human?” I said angrily. I don’t know why I was so upset. Something boiled in my gut, and everything they did was pissing me off. Grunk seemed uncertain, and Omish looked like the fucking idiot he was.
“I am a halfling. We are not human. We are not dwarves. We are our own. I have traveled very far and wide. Across the continent to the seas of the east, the deserts of the south, and the northern wastes, and in all of that travel, I have learned that there is much evil out there-“
“No shit.” I mumbled hotly.
“Let me finish. I have seen many evils, but they are simple evils. Mundane, even. Selfishness. Gluttony. Envy. The protection of kith and kin at the cost of others. Evil that seems to come out of good, out of love, but is a harm to the greater good. That is where our people’s struggles comes from, Teller… bad communication. Lack of patience. Lack of empathy. Lack of understanding. But the Underking is something else. He is evil personified… and the fact that he is causing you harm and you do not even realize it, that should be a consideration in just how evil he is. He has bent the world to his whim, and that is evil of a wildly different sort.”
Grunk groaned with a lilt of admission, as if it all made sense.
“It is no different than a dragon hoarding untold wealth that will never be spent,” Miki said. “The Underfell was created for one purpose and one purpose only.”
“And what is that?” Omish’s voice was full of wonder. Just a stupid ass kid entranced by a story.
“To keep the Underking alive,” Miki finished.
“I don’t believe it.” I groused.
“Come with us then. See for yourself,” Miki ventured. “Better yet, prove us wrong.”
“If I prove you wrong… what do I get out of it?” I tried.
“Knowing that you are right.” Streya offered with a shrug.
“I will go.” Grunk said.
I hit his shoulder. “Grunk!”
“I will go too.” Omish grinned. Yep he was hooked. Dumb shit intern.
I would have hit him too, but Grunk was in the way. So I hit Grunk again. He looked at me sidelong, annoyed as hell, but he did not move otherwise.
“What about you, Teller?” Christoph nodded encouragingly.
What about me? I grabbed my gauntlet, leveled it, and the red beam turned the knight’s top half into a red mist. I jumped into Miki with my fist extended splattering what was left of her pretty skull into Fror’s eyes. Then I death-beamed the stunted half-human thing, turning her midsection into a gaping hole of charred nothingness. She plopped backwards like a felled tree. Finally the dwarf roared, and I punched him as hard as I could in the face. His head popped free like a cork, bounced twice and hit the door with a dull thud. I cheered in victory, roaring over their carcasses. Omish clapped in admiration… while Grunk was in shock. And he shit himself again.
“Teller?” Christoph repeated. “Are you alright?”
I looked at the party of adventurers, inwardly bummed my fantasy was not true. I nodded. “Fine. I will go too. But only because someone needs to watch these two.”
I hit Grunk again.
“Stop it.”
“I need to get it out of my system, Grunk.”
“Then hit the guy with the armor,” Grunk said.
“If it will help, that is not a problem,” the infuriatingly nice knight smiled.
Fuck.
“I am going to go lay in the bench and attempt to sleep.” I grumbled sullenly. “If the world ends, please don’t wake me up. I rather die oblivious.”
I got up and did exactly that. I dropped my gauntlet from my hand next to me, curled up around it and somehow managed to go to sleep surrounded by the ancient stone, its presence making me feel like I was home.
… Even if it was killing me slowly.