This follows Damage Management Team, Part II, and Part I…
Something hit me at speed. And time slowed down to a crawl.
There are moments in my life that I would hope would flash before my eyes when I am about to die. Like, I would see glimpses of childhood, growing up in the village of Stoccard-on-the-Well. It was probably the third largest Goblin village on the continent, nestled in the heart of a lonely mountain about a two hour walk in the Underfell. I would see my mother. I would see my father. I would see my siblings. I would see us hunting. Fishing. I would see us laughing in our cozy Goblin kitchen, tearing into a flank and greasily making fun of each other’s eating habits. I would see that one girl. You know the one, Teller. The pretty one with the long ears.
But no. As I was flung across the open space of the ant nest column, and I looked downwards into the dark depths of my impending death, none of those memories crossed my mind’s eye. Not a single great moment arose from the depths of my consciousness, and instead, you know what I got?
The urge to scream. That’s it. This is how you die, Teller. Screaming like a little baby Gob as you fall to your death towards the crushing darkness, only to be eaten by ants the size of stupid ass dogs.
But hey! At least I would be dead when they would eat me.
Then time spun back up, and after being flung, I hit the far wall and amazingly did not fall to my death. The warrior ant that had flung me in such an insulting manner was apparently surprised I did not fall to my death either.
The ants rushed us from all sides.
Grunk and Omish landed near me. Omish pulled his lighttosser and fired a bolt at the nearest cluster, and the flare shattered as it hit the lead ant in the head, spraying fuel and flame all over the rest. The light in the dark tunnel was brighter than it had been so far, and I watched as Grunk come to terms with his death as he simultaneously pulled his chisel and his hammer from his belt, the grizzled veteran making the choice in taking a few six legged freaks with him.
I looked at my Enchanted Power Gauntlet Mark 4. My baby. And she hummed. She was alive! Thank the Underfell Wizardking.
I flicked my fingers over the control grid, and with a start, realized none of the controls were the same. The nobs, the nubs, the depressions were all laid out differently. And the colors! It hummed with a fell purple light, not the customary arcane blue that it had before.
With dawning horror I realized the purple ball of death that I had grabbed in the Kelpie pool room was something more than just another power source. It must have been an engine hex core. I had somehow, mysteriously, miraculously just had my EPGmark4 upgraded against my will and with zero technical or arcane knowledge.
AND NOW I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO OPERATE IT.
A couple ants lunged in from my right, and I swung with my EPGmark4 encased fist. The balancers hummed, and the control I felt was immense. It was like dancing. I twirled, and my fist crashed into both ants. The first one’s head caved inwards like it was made of paper, and my fist smeared the first ant’s head bits across the face of the next one as it continued, caving the next exoskeleton inwards as well. The ants behind them stopped, confused.
Imagine the scene. Three goblins. And not even big goblins. Just regular old maintenance goblins, standing in a row, dirty and disheveled. The one on the far left is screaming at the top of his lungs, swinging his discharged lighttosser like an axe, as a trio of ants burned nearby in a hastily assembled bonfire of limbs and fuzzy carapaces. Then in the middle, a grizzled, slightly overweight, veteran goblin slamming his hammer into the forehead of a warrior ant, sending the oversized pinchers flying outwards as if he had just hit a mandible ejection button. The last, but not least, leader of this motley group, covered in fresh ant goop, roaring as if he had just taken down a minor god all on his own.
The ants stopped.
They slowly backed up and seemed to regard us, antennae waving to and fro confusedly.
“YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT, YOU HAIRY FUCKWADS! OMISH WILL BURN YOU ALL!” Omish screamed fervently, his eyes bugging worryingly from his skull. At some point he had pulled a flare dart from his belt and was brandishing it like a knife.
Grunk was breathing so heavily I thought he was about to have an apoplectic fit. He held his hammer over his head like he couldn’t decide to chase the ants down or put himself out of his misery.
And all I could do was marvel at my gauntlet like an idiot. There were four red nubs along the knife edge of my right hand, and another on the inside of the wrist… almost like…
I laid my left hand across the back, and sure as shit, all my fingers lined up with the red nubs. They glowed briefly as each finger made contact, and as my thumb came to rest on the last nub, the fingers of my gauntlet straightened of their own accord and my palm…
Growled?
It quickly shifted upwards in tone, transforming into something like a banshee’s high pitch scream…
THEN A RED FOUNTAIN OF ENERGY POURED OUT OF MY MOTHERFUCKING PALM AND OBLITERATED AN ENTIRE COLUMN OF ANTS.
I yanked my left hand off the gauntlet, looked worryingly at the remainder of what I assumed would be now very pissed-off ants (their antennae had stopped waving altogether, which had to be bad), and I felt my face scrunch up with embarrassment as black ash that was previously their compatriots drifted downwards all around us.
“Sorry?” I tried.
The hissing noise that came back at us was nothing short of shit-your-pants-terrifying. The column of ants that I had just obliterated had left a nice empty ramp upwards though. That was nice.
“RUN!” I yelled. I hauled ass up the ramp, into another tunnel. Grunk flung Omish ahead of him, and turned to swing his hammer at the wall. He pulled his hammer hard across the face of it, and the metamorphosis of rock spell of the hammer did its job. A wall formed behind us, blocking our pursuers for the moment.
“I have no idea how long that will keep them.” Grunk put his hands on his knees and was attempting to take some very deep breaths. “Next time you decide to deathray something, you should let us know, first.”
“I had no idea that was going to happen.” I admitted. It sounded lame to my own ears.
Omish’s face appeared to be covered in something like surprise. It might have been shock. I wasn’t sure. But then his eyes somehow went even wider than before and I was certain that he had blown a brain vessel.
“That… that… was FUCKING AWESOME!” Omish squealed. He held his hand up, mimicking my gauntlet. “It was like all AAAAAAAAAAAH and then WOOOOOOOSSSSSSH and then… was that ash? Am I covered in Ant ash?” He sat down heavily as he came back to himself. “This might be the best day of my life.”
“We still have to make it behind that explorer party.” Grunk grizzled. “Let’s be honest, it might be the last day of your life.”
“Seriously, Tell, what the fuck is going on with your EPG?” Omish laughed.
“I wish I knew, Om. Grunk, look… the hexgrid is… different. Like the controls are not the same.”
Grunk took a few steps and slipped his tools back into his belt. He took my arm into his hands and looked over the gauntlet cautiously. “Well it’s purple.”
“Yeah, no shit.” I sighed. “What else do you see?”
“I have no fucking idea, Tell. I have never even heard of something like this. Mickroof was a great artificer, but this is beyond what I know of his work. This is… something else.” Grunk tapped his knuckle against the side of the metal.
It knocked back.
“Was that you?” Grunk looked at me.
“Uh, no.”
“Huh. Possessed Gauntlet. That’s new.” Grunk nodded. “Thought I had seen it all.”
“You have never been on your own before? Remember? Never cut off from a portaling?” I teased.
“Today is just full of new for you Grunk!” Omish grinned. “What’s that saying? Old gobs can never learn new tricks? Or was it a new gob can’t learn old tricks? I can’t remember.”
I laughed. “Shut up, Om. Come on.”
We trudged up the tunnel and after a few minutes of quiet walking upwards, we came to wall. Cut and carved stone. Not ant. Big development.
Grunk pushed past me and laid his hands on the wall. “Ha, this is new to me too. The backside of a wall.”
He pulled his chisel and hammer from his belt, and thumbed a sigil on the side of the hammer’s head. He lightly tapped the back of the chisel and cored out a peekhole out like he was uncorking a bottle. He put his eye to the hole and Omish and I collectively held our breath.
He leaned back. “Looks empty. Another hallway. There is a dubndub to the right across the way. I don’t see anything else.”
“What should we do, Tell?” Omish whispered. “Are we still on level two? Or is this one?”
“We have been heading upwards for a stretch. Why wouldn’t we be on one?” I scratched my chin. “We could be?”
There was a faint angry hissing behind us.
“I don’t think we have a choice.” I amended. “Go!”
Grunk nodded, repeatedly tapped his chisel in the shape a relative Goblin sized door, and then slammed his hammer against the center of the mass like it was a door knocker. The section of wall pivoted outwards.
“Neat!” Omish noted.
“You haven’t had to repair a labyrinth yet, have you?” Grunk teased. “It’s how we traverse the maze.”
I tilted my head towards our new exit.”Come on.”
I ducked through the entry way, Omish followed behind, his lighttosser in his hands, and finally Grunk. He pulled the hammer and the door slid shut as if it had never existed. There was a slight sizzle as the rock fused back together. Grunk slid the core back into the hole and tapped it lightly with his hammer. Another sizzle sound and the wall was exactly as it had been.
“When do I get some enchanted tools?” Omish whispered in awe.
“When it is the right time for you to get enchanted tools, numbnuts,” Grunk whispered back.
I sulked slowly across the tiles, keeping my eyes wide for traps, wires, and the like between us and the dubndub. The fell light of the ceiling stones helped me pick way towards the water and waste room, and thankfully there was nothing. I pushed the door open, held it for the other two, and then closed it in a rush. I slung the lock shut, and prayed that no one would wander along to test it.
I needed a nap. The chemicals in my bloodstream were finding ways to exit, and the fatigue was hitting me hard. I slumped against the door.
Grunk sat down heavily against the wall, tilting his head back in repose. Omish just laid flat on the stone floor.
“What a day.” I groaned under my breath. I cradled my EPGmark4 in my lap and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but it had to be longer than a few minutes. When I came to, Grunk and Omish had a small fire going in the warming pit, and they were drinking some of Grunk’s breaktime tea that he carried in his backpack.
We should probably inventory our gear. I can’t imagine we have much in the way of supplies. Or food. My stomach growled as if on cue.
“We may starve to death.” I grumbled.
“Nonsense.” Grunk smiled. “I have jerky!”
“And when that runs out?” I said.
“Then we eat Omish!” Grunk laughed brightly.
I made a face. So did Omish.
“Hey, I am sitting right here!” Omish complained.
“Don’t stress it Om. We both know you would taste terrible.” I stood and walked over to the small fire. “Any more tea?”
Grunk handed me a small wooden tea cup with a wink.
“Thanks Grunk.” I took a sip. It was warm and delicious. Grunk handed me a piece of jerky, and I bit out a chunk savagely.
“There is actually plenty of food to be had in the Underfell. Just have to go looking for it. Mushrooms, gardens, groves, fish in the pools… even bigger game if you are for up it.” Grunk said thoughtfully. “The Underfell is world unto itself.”
“But what’s the point?” Omish asked.
“The point of what?” Grunk asked.
Omish waved at the group sitting around the small fire. “What we do?”
I spoke up. “We manage the dungeon. Fix what needs to be fixed, help where we need to help. You know this, Om.”
“But WHY?” Omish overemphasized the point.
“Do you ever wonder why we don’t live on the surface?” Grunk asked.
“Uh, we don’t like the surface.”
“No,” Grunk shook his head. “The humans, the elves, and the ones they deem ‘good’ species lay claim to the surface. The rest of us have to rot at the edges. We have to stay in our realms.”
“That makes sense,” Omish nodded. “Goblins can be bad, alright.”
“But you are asking why the Underfell exists. This is why.” Grunk said. “What if we aren’t supposed to stay in our realms? What if the surface belongs to all of us? I will tell you straight up Om… humans and elves can be just as evil as any orc or dragon. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t get it.” Omish shook his head. “That is not a why.”
“The Underfell exists to provide a home to those that aren’t allowed to have one. Up there. And in creating it, the Wizardking worked magics that have had lasting impacts on the world above. They topsiders see him as a great enemy. They seem him as a devil. In reality, he is a savior. He gave us power. He gave us control over our own lives.”
“True, true, Grunk. That he did.” I tipped my cup towards him. “He took all the scattered peoples, Om. He took all of us and he made us something new.”
“So he just creates dungeons that anyone can wander into?”
I tapped my chin. “Yeah, what’s up with that?”
“I honestly don’t know. Obviously, the Underfell Wizardking knows something we don’t.” Grunk admitted. “Maybe the exchange is important for some reason. It has to be.”
“It keeps us in a job!” I grinned, knocking the rest of the tea back. “Although our lead is definitely shot now.”
“Team Snake can suck a dick.” Omish frowned heavily. “Ratking too.”
“Maybe they got shit assignments too.” Grunk said.
“Maybe,” I nodded.
“Maybe we got lucky, and that nasty Ratking leader got her mouth blown off!” Omish grinned.
It seems everyone hated that one.
I glanced down at my EPGmark4-something and noted that it was off again. By its own choice? Does an enchanted gauntlet just get to decide when to itself off? It had learned to knock? It had learned to shoot a death ray. Hopefully it didn’t learn how to consume goblins that stick their hands in unknowingly.
I pulled my right hand out slowly and besides that bit of a tacky moisture feeling that I always had on my skin after taking the EPG off, everything looked completely normal. All five fingers, all my skin, and all of my pre-existing bruises and scars were accounted for. No new bruises and no new scars. I flexed my hand with a hesitation, like it wasn’t my own.
Grunk huffed. “It is just an enchanted gauntlet, Tell. Not the devil himself attached to your arm.”
“Did you not see the gnarly beam of total destruction come out of it?” I raised my eyebrows up as far as they could go. If I had been wearing a hat, it would have been pushed off.
“Well, yes… that was a bit odd.” Grunk conceded.
“A bit odd? Grunk, dude, its a power gauntlet. It is for construction! Designed for a goblin… like me… to do construction-y stuff. Earthmoving! Preparing materials! Not shooting beams of death!” My voice was rising of its own accord. “And bashing in the heads of a couple ants with a single swing? This was supposed to help goblins like me avoid using a shovel and a mattock, not cave in any skulls that get in the way!”
My gauntlet vibrated like an instrument strong for a hot second and then powered up. Grunk and I looked at each other and then to the gauntlet. The artifact rolled over and spread its fingers, forming a hand shaped gauntlet crab. It scuttled towards the door, hovered next to it like it was listening, and then scuttled back to me double time.
Omish was so invested in his jerky, he didn’t notice the EPG walking around of its own volition.
My gauntlet leaned against me and then butted me. Then butted me again.
“Why is your EPG bouncing against your thigh?” Omish said airily.
It pointed a finger at the door. Then again. Insistently.
“Douse the fire,” I whispered. “Gather the things.”
“Why?” Grunk looked at me weird.
“I don’t know why, but I think someone… or something… is coming.” I whispered again. I slid my hand into the waiting gauntlet. I got the sense it was like a puppy dog, just waiting to be petted lovingly.
Omish doused the fire, and pushed the wet smoking remnants into the drainage grate.
“Grunk, quick. Build a box against this wall, something that nestles in the corner. Make it like a bench or something simple that we can hide in.” I gathered all of our things as Grunk tapped a sequence out on his hammer. “Shit! Omish, unlock the door. Fast!”
Omish nodded and padded off.
Grunk tapped the stone lightly, and folded out a stone ledge from the wall, and another from the floor. I crawled into it, pushing our stuff ahead of us. Omish followed close behind, and then Grunk came in behind and closed the end with another slice from the wall. The joins sizzled briefly, and I knew it would blend right in. Grunk tapped a couple peek holes for us and we collectively held our breath.
The door opened.
“Oh thank the heavens above! Its a bathroom!” A human in silver armor walked in, a long sword at his waist, and a leather satchel across his back. “I feel like we have been attacked and wandering for days without a good place to rest.”
“We have been attacked. And have been wandering. For days.” A deadpan female’s voice came up from behind. A small diminutive woman, she had bow over her back and a pair of knives at her waist. I thought she looked like a human, but she was too short. And she had no shoes on. Big hairy feet instead. Not a dwarf either. I had no idea what she was.
“That golem was unexpected,” a third voice came up behind. It was definitely a male dwarf, the massive axe on his back was impressive. “Thing must have been sitting there for years.”
“And that is why you have me. To reduce things like that to slag.” A fourth voice said.
My eyes went wide.
“You are the best fire mage I have ever met, Miki.” The dwarf laughed.
I looked sideways at Grunk and then over at Omish, and they couldn’t believe it either.
The fire mage was a goblin.
A very pretty female goblin with gorgeous long ears. I felt a twinge in my gut.
Holy shit – ah…
Holy shit.
Holy shit!