Chapter 81 (Patreon)

Chapter 81

The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook.

24th Edition. 

Potions, Explosives, Traps, Secret Societies, Dungeon Shortcuts, and more. Much more. This guide to creating chaos was originally generated into the system during the fifteenth season. It was awarded to the High Elf Crawler Porthus the Rogue on the ninth floor, disguised as a blank sketchbook. The fact you’re reading this indicates that this book and the knowledge within remains active in the code. It has been passed down from dungeon to dungeon. It is automatically generated after a set of predetermined conditions have been met. It will disappear from your inventory upon death or retirement where it will find its way to a worthy recipient in a future crawl. 

There is only one price for access to these pages. You must pass your own knowledge on.

In your messaging menu, you will find a scratchpad. If you’ve yet to discover this, it is a place to mentally write down recipes or thoughts or anything else you wish to recall. If you look now, you will find you have been given one extra page into your scratchpad. Anything you add to this second page will be included in the 25th edition of this book.  

While the true contents of this guide are invisible to the showrunners and to the viewers, it is not invisible to the current System AI. There is nothing about owning this book, or the information hidden within that is against the rules. However, if the organization running this season begins to suspect that this book is more than it appears, or if you tell anyone about the existence of this book, the information within will erase, and you will forever lose access to the hidden text. 

This is important. While this book’s contents may be invisible, your actions are not. You must become an actor. Every recipe, every secret, if utilized, must be presented to the outside world as if you are discovering this all on your own. How you do that is up to you. Do not spend too much time staring at these pages. 

<Note added by Crawler Drakea. 22nd Edition> The saferoom restrooms are a good place to read. Just don’t take long or you’ll get pinched. The rats say there’s a Syndicate rule that they can’t watch you in the bathroom stalls. This is just for the actual toilets, not the rest of the bathrooms. Dunno if it’s true. Those Naga bastards are a suspicious lot, and I fear I may soon be discovered.

My hands shook. I closed the book and added it to my inventory. The Naga? I remembered that Odette had said the Naga hadn’t run a season in a very long time. That was the only season the dungeon lost money. If this note was from the 22nd edition, that meant this book had been in the hands of only two other crawlers since then. 

I opened up my messages and found the scratchpad. I usually posted the list of items from Mordecai’s daily BOLO in there. The last thing I’d pasted was that awful message from Brandon. But sure enough there was now another tab. I closed it out. 

I dragged the chair back to the kitchen counter. 

“Come on, guys,” I said. “We need to sleep. I gotta use the bathroom, though. Donut I’ll be out in a bit.”   

~

We watched the recap episode in silence. The loss of Mordecai hung over us like a cloud. Some crawler with two heads and a chained weapon called a meteor hammer killed an entire train full of humanoid salamanders. Lucia Mar made herself a necklace out of monster tongues, but one of her dogs sneaked up and snatched it off her neck while she was sitting in a saferoom eating a bowl of rice. If it wasn’t so disgusting, the scene would’ve been hilarious. They showed us fighting the Cornets. 

I’d only dared read a few pages of the book. It was presented in curated chapters. All the potion recipes in one, all the explosives in another, and so forth. Not all of it was actual recipes. There was a chapter that did nothing but list types of monsters and their known weaknesses. Some of it was stories. The last section, by the far the biggest, was the remaining notes that didn’t fit into a specific chapter, one edition after another. I quickly flipped through. Some crawlers filled pages and pages of text while others only wrote a few short lines. It was going to take a long time for me to get through it all. 

I turned to the explosives section, and it contained a list of types of available explosives. A note caught my eye. 

<Crawler Sinjin. 15th Edition> A level 3 sapper’s table lets you infuse bombs. Soak a hobgoblin smoke curtain in a healing potion, let it dry, and it mass kills undead like you wouldn’t believe. 

<Comment added by Crawler Forkith 20th Edition> Confirmed. Works with bombs too but smoke works better. Doesn’t kill high-level undead, but they get mad. I use these to clear rooms of those invisible Swamp Wights.    

I slammed the book shut. I knew if I kept reading, I’d never stop.  

Later, as I watched the recap episode, I kept thinking about the circumstances that led to Mordecai and that Chaco guy being in the same room. I knew that most viewers didn’t see Mordecai. Managers and Game Guides were edited out of the feed. But those with press passes, such as Odette and probably millions of others, could see him. So his existence was no secret. 

But was Mordecai’s story famous enough for people to make the connection between him and Chaco? Probably not anymore. His mysterious relationship to Odette plus our own popularity likely led to someone making the connection, who then floated the idea of trolling the vote. 

I looked up into the air and grinned. “I gotta admit, guys. That whole thing with Chaco was a dick move, but it was brilliantly executed. Good job.”

I needed to get over it and move on. Most of the other crawlers didn’t have a manager at all. I’d grown to rely on him, sending him queries every time I ran across something I didn’t recognize. We were going to have to suck it up and figure out the rest of this floor without him. 

Both Daniel Bautista and the book showed me the importance of crowdsourcing information. And while the bounty was a big concern, we couldn’t let it force ourselves into isolation. I needed to get out there and add as many people as I could to my chat.   

Hello, Crawlers. 

At the end of this message, you will receive a new tab in your interface. This is where you can interact with your first sponsor. It will populate at the end of bidding, which will be in about 15 hours. You can see who your sponsors are, what organization they represent, and if they sponsor additional crawlers. They will not be able to send you direct messages, but you can send messages to them. I highly suggest you thank them for their support and ask them to send you the best loot boxes as possible. 

We are currently updating several issues with the train system. Some lines will be down for maintenance. I do not recommend venturing out onto the tracks as the trains may resume at any moment. 

That’s all for now. Now get out there and kill, kill, kill! 

“You know what we need?” Donut asked, looking about. “We need alcohol. And dancing. Let’s party.”

“You know I don’t have a pass to the club, right?” Katia said. “I’ve told you several times now.” 

“Oh yeah,” Donut said, sounding dejected. “You need to do something bad and get a tattoo.” 

“What did you guys do to get access?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, interrupting Donut. We’d received it after the incident with the goblin babies. “I think it might be a better idea for you to try to get into the other club, Club Vanquisher. I don’t know what is required, but we’ll find out.”   

She shrugged. “Okay. You guys go have fun. I have stuff I need to do anyway. Mordecai told me of a type of craft table I should buy. I’m going to pick it up while you’re out and try to get some work done. Just don’t take too long.” 

~

The station-only entrance bar was empty. A jackal-faced gnoll stood behind the counter, drinking directly from a bottle of vodka. He ignored us as we pushed through to the double doors. It was just me and Donut. Mongo was safely ensconced in his carrier. Donut had yet to ride him. He started jumping up and down crazily the moment she even approached the saddle.   

The next bouncer in the small vestibule was the same as it always was, Clarabelle the Crocodilian. 

“Where’s your manager?” she asked as we walked up. She was the same type of creature as Florian the guy with the shotgun. She was pretty scary looking close up. Through the door we could hear the thump, thump, thump of music. Donut bopped her head. 

I gave the bouncer a quick recap of what had happened. 

She nodded. “Yep, that’ll do it. He only gets one warning, I think. So you better remind him to behave when he gets back. I don’t really know the story, but your manager has spent many hours crying into his cup, and he’s mentioned a list of a few scores he wants to settle once he gets out of here. And that Chaco idiot has come up more than once. That’s all I really know.” 

I nodded. “Is it busy tonight?” 

“As busy as it ever gets on the fourth floor, which means not really. Casino is now open. Oh, hey, that reminds me. Management wants me to offer private security for your visit. It’s 500 gold for the both of you, but if you spend at least that much at the tables you’ll get a coupon for free security next time.” 

“What sort of security?” I asked. 

“Nothing fancy. You’ll get two bodyguards who’ll accompany you anywhere in the club, including areas where security is a bit more lax. Between you and me, it’s a rip-off for most of the people who get it. But I know you two are both on that bounty list. I think it’s a pretty good idea. We got one other top-ten in the club right now, and she has a guard.” 

“It’s not Lucia Mar is it?” I asked. 

Clarabelle grunted. “No. She’s been banned for life. Tried to get in a few times now, but we’re prepared for her. She’s mighty pissed about it, too. No, it’s that Frost Maiden and her butterfly friend.” 

Mrs. McGibbons. Elle. She was here.  

“So what’s your best price on the security?” Donut asked. 

Clarabelle looked at Donut. “Your charm doesn’t work on me, little one. My best price is the only price. It’s 300 for one person, and 500 for a team of two.” 

Donut looked as if she was about to object. Before she could say anything, I said, “We’ll take it.” 

~

Our two guards were both level-35 rock monsters called Cretins. One was named Bomo, and the other was “The Sledge.” They seemed about as intelligent as one could expect from someone named Bomo and The Sledge, but the 7-foot-tall, tuxedoed monsters followed us at a respectable distance. 

I did the hand wave thing to create a privacy bubble over my head as we entered the large, bouncing room. The dance hall was only moderately busier than it had been the last time we were here. I didn’t see any elites this time, but there were plenty of crawlers. We were noticed right away. Several people stopped what they were doing to point and stare. A pair of crawlers looked as if they were going to approach, but after a glance at our security, they went back to the dance floor. 

I saw Elle before she noticed us. She had a single guard, yet another rock monster who stood behind her with his arms crossed, looking bored. His name was Clay-ton. He put up his rocky hands as we approached. 

“No closer,” he grumbled. 

“She’s expecting us,” I said. 

When I saw Elle on the recap episode, I hadn’t realized how small she’d become. She’d been a diminutive woman before, but she’d shrunk to about four and a half feet tall, and her skin was now a light blue, like the sky on a clear day. Her white, haphazardly-cut hair was almost exactly the same as before, but it fit with her smaller frame, and it no longer looked so sickly. She floated about a foot off the ground, and I noted she still wore the anti-slip socks from Meadow Lark. The privacy bubble around her head was like a nimbus, making her look like one of those haloed figures in a renaissance painting. She was leaning over the bar, waving her hand furiously at the badger-headed bartender, who was serving someone else down the line. 

“Look at how beautiful she is,” Donut whispered. “She’s like a vision of pure elegance.”

“Yo,” Elle cried at the bartender. “Whose dick do I gotta suck to get another drink? Christ.”    

“Hey, ice princess,” I called out. “This one is on me.” 

Elle didn’t turn. “Look, needle dick, buzz off or when my real bodyguard gets back, she’s going to add another skull next to her nametag.” 

“You mean Imani?” I said. “Where is she anyway?” 

She turned around at that, eyes going wide. 

“Carl! Donut!” she cried, pushing Clay-ton the bodyguard aside to hug me. When she moved, her feet didn’t touch the ground at all, but she still moved them. Our own two guards stepped forward, but I put up a hand to stop them. She pulled me into a hug, and it felt as if I’d just been wrapped by a pair of icicles. She reached up to pat Donut on the head. 

“You got a new tiara! We saw the last one get destroyed on the show.”

“I liked that one,” Donut said sadly. “It was purple.”  

I grinned. “I didn’t know if you were going to remember me.” 

Her eyes were almost twice as large as they’d been before. But I could still see it in her face, a resemblance to the ancient woman she’d been. 

“I remember most of it. Kinda like watching a movie while tripping and then trying to remember it later. But how could I forget you saving my life? When Jack pissed on the wall… That’s not the sort of thing one forgets, even with a brain that’s turned into mush. So, you like my new digs?” She floated back, rising further off the ground and spreading her arms out. She moved her legs like she was backing up an invisible staircase. I wondered how high she could fly. “I’m a Frost Maiden. For now.” 

“It’s pretty cool,” I said. “I saw you shooting icicles out of your hand.” 

Behind her, the bartender approached. “You want another?” 

She looked back at the badger. “Fuck, man. There’s like five real people in here. Are you fermenting the potatoes yourself? I do want another drink. My friend Carl is paying for it. But then we’re going to have another one after that, and I’m paying for that one. And don’t give me a shitty pour like last time. Carl is having what I’m having. Donut, what do you want?” 

“A dirty Shirley! In a bowl!” 

“And the cat is having a dirty Shirley in a bowl. Extra cherries.” 

I made a quick check of my inventory to make sure I still had some alcohol cure potions. I did. 

“So anyway, Frost Maiden ended up being my only real choice.” She lowered her hover and leaned up against the bar, feet still floating. “I had a long list of options that’d put all my marbles back in the bag, but Brandon made me pick this one. This is a tricky race, let me tell you. But we went with it because of you, actually.” 

“Me?” I asked. 

“The manager benefit,” she said. “You told Brandon about it, and I hadn’t yet gone. It usually comes with classes, not races, but it comes with this one. Mistress Tiatha… that’s our game guide. Have you ever met her? She was over the moon. I’d never seen her excited before. Turns out she wasn’t allowed to say anything. But the moment I picked it, she actually cried. Not that I noticed since I was in the middle of turning into this thing.” 

“I heard about Brandon,” I said, suddenly somber. “He sent me a message.” 

The bartender plopped down four shots and a bowl on the counter. I handed him the last of my drink coupons and a couple of gold coins. Donut leaped to the counter and ate a cherry. 

“Go easy,” I said to Donut. “We’re not staying long.”  

Elle nodded. She downed her drink. “Brandon was a good kid. His brother, too. A shame what happened.” 

“What did happen?” I asked. “He told me they got into a fight, but not the details.” 

“Miss Imani knows the story better than I do. She’s over on the Silk Road getting supplies for the crew. We’re the only two of the whole squad who have access to the club. I only got my tattoo because I accidently shot an icicle up the keister of an orc bartender on that last floor. We’d had to hightail it out of town after that.” She laughed. “That guy will be shitting cold blood for the next three seasons.”  

Obviously, going from a dementia-suffering, 90-year-old woman in a wheelchair to this fairy ice mage was going to alter one’s personality. But there was more to it, too. She had an edge to her. In the short time I’d known the woman before, I’d caught hints of that, but I hadn’t realized she was so… loud. I wondered how close this personality matched with how she was when she’d been younger. 

“How many are you?” I asked. I took the first shot and almost gagged. It tasted like rubbing alcohol. “Oh god, what is this?” 

She laughed. “It’s called Knockout. It’s got a kick. It’s the dungeon’s version of Everclear. My Barry and I used to get blackout drunk on that shit.”

Next to me, Donut ate a second cherry out of her bowl. She jumped to The Sledge’s shoulder and asked him to take her dancing. They started to lumber toward the floor. I looked up at Bomo. “You go, too. Watch her. Elle’s guard can watch the both of us.” 

The rock monster grumbled but complied. 

“Anyway, there’s twenty of us left. Imani is the only one remaining from the kids. She still acts like a babysitter. I keep telling her that she doesn’t need to wipe our asses anymore, but she doesn’t care. She’s going to die from an ulcer before the dungeon gets her… Speak of the devil. Here she comes.” 

I turned. 

Crawler #12,329,440. “Imani C.”
Level 24.
Race: Obsidian Butterfly.
Class: Fire Spiritualist. 

She had transformed into a gaunt, skull-faced vision. Imani had been a skinny woman before, but now she looked as if she weighed half of that. A white skull was painted on her face, reminding me of the Danger Dingo mobs. 

But most striking were the translucent, ethereal butterfly wings trailing behind her. The four wings were a striking mix of orange, yellow, red, white, and black. Almost like a monarch butterfly, but more saturated. She had to have a twelve-foot wingspan. As she walked, the wings passed through columns and dancing NPCs and Crawlers. They were not physical wings, but I noticed the dancers reacted when the wings touched them. It was a quick thing, but each of them gave off a very subtle glow for a moment after the wings touched them. 

“Hello, Carl,” Imani said. She folded her wings back. “I see my message found you.” 

Imani turned and scanned the room, eyes resting on Donut, who was in the middle of the dance floor, bopping on the shoulders of The Sledge. She twirled while the rock bodyguard was doing an approximation of the robot. A crowd had circled around them, and they were chanting, “Go Donut! Go Donut! Go Donut!” Thankfully Bomo appeared to be paying attention. Plus additional guards circled the room, eyes wary. 

I don’t know why you’re being so paranoid. You shouldn’t be more afraid of your own people than the monsters. 

“Those are some wings,” I said. “Can you fly with them?” 

“Not yet,” she said. “When we get to the sixth floor, I have to choose between two paths. One will let me fly. The other will keep them as they are.” 

“She’s a support race and class,” Elle said. She’d managed to get another drink. I realized she’d pinched my second one. That was okay. “She can claw your eyes out, but mostly she sits back and keeps everyone’s health topped off.” 

“A healer,” I said. “Just like you and Yolanda were before.” 

Her eyes clouded over at the mention of Yolanda. “Do you know about Brandon? He said he sent you a message.” 

I nodded. “What happened with his brother?” 

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” she said. She pointed over at Clay-ton the bodyguard. “Chris picked a rock race, like these guys, but a different kind. Called an Igneous. He looks like he’s made out of lava rocks and is covered in little holes. I don’t know if you’ve seen them. He got very strong, but it changed his personality.” She gave a sidelong glance to Elle. “Race changes seem to do that to some people. He was fine the first couple of days, and then all of a sudden he and his brother were fighting a lot. Chris wanted to spend every minute of every day hunting and killing. He wanted to go out and reconnect with you two. He says you’re aggressive. He insisted you were just south of us. I don’t know why he thought that. But Brandon wanted to stick close to the stairwell and spend the days training close to the exit. They got into a fight, and several of the men left with Chris. This was right around the time you left the floor.” 

Elle laughed. “Then Henry got pulled into an alleyway and banged some succubus witch who ended up giving birth to thousands of these little goblin monsters called Shade Gremlins. It started this whole thing. You should’ve seen it. Those green fuckers were everywhere. They all had Henry’s face.” 

“Henry?” I asked. 

Imani shook her head, apparently irritated with Elle. “He was one of the residents. He died, along with Brandon, protecting our escape.” 

I let a second pass in honor of Brandon. Donut was now wrapped around The Sledge’s head, like she was slow dancing, even though the music was the same EDM beat as before. She’d only eaten two or three cherries, and I could see that she was plastered. 

“Chris hasn’t talked to you?” I asked. 

“No,” Imani said. “I can see he’s alive. He’s the only one of those who broke away who still is. He won’t answer us. But I know he’s looking for you. I thought you should know the story before he finds you.” 

“I appreciate that,” I said. “And it’s good to see you. Before you guys go, though, let’s get into each other’s chat. Plus I want to show you something. I want your thoughts on this.” I pulled out the roll of paper Mordecai left on the floor by his alchemy table, the one with all the known train stations mapped out. “Let’s find a table where we can look over this together. We need to figure out…” 

A loud commotion from the dance floor turned my attention back. 

I’d only looked away for a second. Bomo and The Sledge were on their backs. The crowd, both the NPCs and Crawlers were screaming and running back. The remaining bouncers rushed toward the center of the club. 

In the center of the floor stood Donut, swaying. Her health was in the deep red. Her cockroach skill had activated, the skill that saved her from dying from the first killing blow. 

The entire front of her was covered in blood. A human crawler lay dying on the floor, blood geysering from a slash across his neck. A moment passed, and the man went still.

A single skull formed, appearing after Donut’s name.