Book 7, Chapter 11 + DragonCon info and Audiobook trailer featuring Patrick Warburton (Patreon)

Tipid

“Can I keep this?” Tipid asked his attorney. His hands shook as he turned the key over in his blood-covered hands.

He sat in the chair, but he could barely feel his legs. He still shook. Is this real? he wondered. Am I really here, or is this another trick? The Illusionists were still out there, casting their spells. Cassio was dead. He’d stabbed himself in the neck, fighting illusions, screaming for them to get off of him. It’d left just him and Horatio. And now Horatio was dead, too. He was dead because the key only let one of them out, and Tipid had chosen to save himself.

“Tipid,” the man said. “It’s Damien. I’m not your attorney. You’re in a zero zone, and you have some lingering injuries that need to be repaired. It’s brain lesions or something, I don’t know. You need to get straight to a Viceroy system to get it repaired. I’ve already arranged for transport. It’s going to cost a good chunk of your pension, but I don’t see what choice you have.”

Tipid blinked, and he realized his hands weren’t really bloody. The man in front of him wasn’t his attorney. That had already happened. That was solars ago.

“I’m never getting out of here,” Tipid said. He looked at his hands again. Why were they so clean?

The man—a hair-covered human—smiled at him. He smiled the way a merchant would smile. A merchant who was forced to deal with a customer he despised. “No, no, that’s not true,” the man said. “You did it. You fulfilled your contract. Game guide. Poisoners guild. Occasional city guard. Perfect marks. You didn’t negotiate post-release health care, unfortunately, and some of the physical injuries to your body persist. So when you’re outside the dungeon environment,” he waved a hand at Tipid, “this will happen. But you’re free. You’re going home.”

“Home? Where is that?”

“There’s an organization. A not-for-conquest that helps destitute former crawlers and employees get their footing after transition. It’s pretty new, but the Syndicate has donated some money to the cause once they started getting press. I’ve taken the liberty of letting them know you’re coming. They’re sending someone to accompany you to the Viceroy system. He’s a former crawler himself.”

“Viceroys?” Tipid asked, suddenly afraid. His mind was in a fog. What was happening? He remembered the Viceroys. The masked monsters during faction wars. They called themselves the Madness. Their chief surgeon had a spell that cooked your brain. It made your teeth fall out. It made the liquid in your eyeballs turn to acid and then explode over your own face. That was what had happened to Rosaline.

“What about the key?” Tipid turned it over in his hands again, and he realized it was attached to a chain around his neck. When had that happened?

“They let you keep it. You negotiated an extra season just so you could have it. It’s yours.”

He could still hear Horatio’s cries. The other man hadn’t understood what was happening, why Tipid was leaving him behind. He remembered the feeling of the jewel burning out as he stuck the key into the door. Of the notification. Horatio had a wife. An older child. They’d both survived and had already taken a deal at the end of the tenth. Horatio had held on in hopes of getting a better deal, of making a life for them when they finally got out.

Tipid had nobody.

He was all alone in the world. In the universe. Yet, he’d chosen to save himself and not his friend. That’s okay, everybody said to him. It’s okay to be selfish when you’re saving yourself.

He yanked on the key, and he felt the chain snap. He tossed the necklace across the table.

“I don’t want it anymore.”

Class: Poisoner.

Race: Crest.

Birth Race: Crest.

Top Level: 96

Dungeon Exit: Took deal at the beginning of the 12th floor.

Worked as a Game Guide and Guildhall Instructor in the Poisoner guild before exiting the dungeon. Was forced to spend the entirety of his pension, plus take out an additional loan, to repair the extensive damage to his brain. Eventually retired to a Crest system to work for a waste management company.

Author of the Fourth Edition of the Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook.

Current status: Colonel in the Princess Posse Faction Wars team.

Chapter 11

Louis left his new wife behind as he, Katia, and Bautista took Party Planner on its inaugural journey toward the base. Samantha had somehow talked her way onto the flight as well. It wasn’t clear if anyone had told her yet about the wedding. Ferdinand and Drick had turned back to the Desperado Club. Drick, apparently, was attempting to teach the cat how to use the warlord menus, but Ferdinand was proving to be a ...difficult student. In the meantime, Drick left Juice Box alone to get back to her work preparing the NPCs for the impending invasion.

Tran had just gotten an upgraded wheelchair, but I hadn’t a chance yet to see what Katia built for him. We left Britney with Juice Box, and Tran would soon join them as they received a lesson on how the city defense system worked. There was only so much Juice Box could do until the cat figured out his menus. But in the meantime, the changeling warlord could control the diggers and automatons, which were only part of the defenses. Apparently there was a way to use the buildings themselves to help defend the city.

We hadn’t yet installed the upgrade for the doggie door to work throughout the entire guild, so we had to go over to the Meadowlark space to get to the base. Rend rode upon Mongo’s back as they bounded ahead of us.

“I do hope Juice Box and Louis get time for a honeymoon. It’s sad they got married and then had to separate right away,” Donut said as we walked. “I must say, I am surprised she just let us take control of the other city away from Ferdinand.”

“She doesn’t want to split her forces, and if the bad guys can freely enter that Shanty Town once the truce is broken, it’s just going to be a liability. In the meantime, we both have something that’s going to give all those assholes a huge headache. It’s a good deal for both of us.”

Donut sneered. “Still, I can’t believe that stupid cat gave it all away just for a temporary hat. He’s not even charmed anymore, and it still worked. We better get it back, Carl. I want to put it on my charge pillow and get that boomerang skill for my new tiara. Plus, it’s a bowler hat. I don’t have any bowler hats yet.”

“That’s the plan,” I said. “And we’re going to drain that lightning spell out of the turban, too. But I want to warn Juice Box before we do it in case Gravy Boat flips out. Something tells me she won’t mind. He will. Speaking of your new tiara, you have items charging now, right?”

“Yes, Carl. Mordecai is doing it for us. The first thing we’re transferring over is my Dragonfly Tiara with my Hover skill.”

“Good,” I said. We had so much to do. I needed to get Rend leveled up. I needed to figure out how to use my new Gloom Wraith Phase skill. But first we needed to see what Florin was all excited about.

“Hey!” Donut suddenly shouted. “I just got a notification that my sponsorship has been canceled!”

“Really? Which one?”

“The garbage truck people! It says because of a ‘conflict of interest.’ Carl, what does that mean? What did you do?”

“Huh,” I said. “At least you opened the loot box from them already.”

“It says there’s going to be an auction for a new one.”

“Good. Maybe they’ll get you something good, too.”

“I hope so. As much as I appreciate the loot, I do hope it’s something that lines up properly with my brand this time. With that toy company Veriluxx being a dud and Empress D’Nadia selling my sponsorship, it would be nice to have something to complement the Apothecary, even if she does sponsor half the dungeon.”

We entered the Meadowlark saferoom.

And just like that, everything changed.

~

Imani, Florin, and Mistress Tiatha were inside, waiting for us.

They weren’t alone.

I stopped dead as I entered the space. I stared at the two Crest standing there. A woman and a man. Mongo jumped all around them, peeping with excitement at meeting someone new. The man stood there, grinning stupidly while the woman scowled at the dinosaur.

On the minimap, their dots were purple. The same color as the dots of the hunters on the sixth floor, but they had a pink outline, indicating them as troopers for the Princess Posse.

“Rosetta!” Donut exclaimed. “Carl, look! It’s Rosetta Thagra! What are you doing here?”

Rosetta appeared much like she had the last time I’d seen her, only now she wore black shorts, boots, and a simple, unenchanted leather top over her chest. The floral tattoo on her right leg glowed. The tendrils peeked out onto her left arm, implying the tattoo went all the way up over her stomach and across her chest. The tat hadn’t been glowing when I saw it before. She didn’t wear anything on her bald head. She didn’t appear to be carrying any weapons.

Rosetta. Rosetta from the Shadow Boxer television show. Rosetta from the seventh edition of the cookbook.

“How?” I asked.

The name over her head blazed.

Rosetta Thag. Crest Barn Burner. Level 60.

Colonel in the Princess Posse.

This is a subordinate.

The name and description surprised me so much that it took me a second to finally examine the second stranger standing there.

This was also a Crest, but he was noticeably older than Rosetta. In appearance, at least. He was tall, thin, and he had an old scar running up over his bald head, from temple to temple that made him look as if he’d been literally scalped once. While Rosetta’s skin was pale, almost sickly, this guy’s skin was leathery and golden brown, like he spent most of his time working under a blazing sun.

I knew it wasn’t accurate, but Rosetta’s appearance was that of someone who’d never worked a day in her life. This newcomer’s appearance suggested he’d spent a life filled with hard labor.

I felt myself stagger when I read his name, like I’d been physically pushed. My back hit the entrance to the personal space. The door opened, and I almost stumbled back into the guild. Donut yowled and jumped from my shoulder onto Mongo, causing Rend to tumble off the dinosaur’s back. The little meatball giggled as it fell and splotched onto the floor.

Tipid. Crest Liquid Dervish. Level 60.

Colonel in the Princess Posse.

This is a subordinate.

Tipid. Author of the fourth edition of the cookbook.

“How,” I repeated. My legs felt weak.

And then I remembered all the notifications that I’d muted. I met eyes with the man. “Are there more?”

I was asking two different things, and I saw he could tell what I meant. What I really meant.

“A few more,” he said. “Not a lot of us available, unfortunately.”

Florin grunted. “If just over 50 thousand former crawlers counts as a few, then yeah, mate. It’s just a few.”

Holy shit. I swallowed, and I held out my hand to Tipid. The man stepped forward, and he pulled me into a hug.

I could barely move. I couldn’t believe it. A wave of emotion swept over me, traveling up my legs, pausing at my chest, and moving its way to my head. I suppressed a sob.

“I don’t know if it’ll be enough, brother,” Tipid whispered, grasping the back of my head and putting his forehead against my own. “But we’re here. We’ve been watching, and we couldn’t watch anymore. We’re here.”

“Very touchy-feely, these Crest,” Donut said.

~

Rosetta approached as Tipid stepped aside, and I thought maybe she was going to hug me, too. She paused, looked up into the air and said, “This isn’t an attack. This is a self-correcting measure given in the spirit of comradery. Okay?”

“What?” I asked.

She smacked me on the forehead with the flat of her palm. It wasn’t a hard strike, but it was loud. And it hurt.

I was so shocked, I didn’t react for several seconds. I just looked at her. Tipid grinned and shook his head.

“What did you do that for?” I finally asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead she pulled me into a hug and kissed me on both cheeks. “Comrade,” she whispered. “We are here.”

“You know, I’m here, too,” Donut said, tail swishing angrily. “It’s my army, too.”

Tipid patted Donut on the head. “Hello, Princess. It’s very nice to meet you as well.”

Donut appeared temporarily mollified.

Florin: Mate, do you know these people already? They’re acting pretty familiar.

I gave him a very slight No nod of my head. He dropped it immediately.

Rosetta was examining my ponytail, turning it over in her hands. She let go of it, letting it slump heavy on my shoulder. Then she reached forward and stuck her hand down the front of my shirt through the collar and put her hand against the Bedlam Bride tattoo. Her fingers were like ice.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“How much do you have left?”

“Of what?”

She pulled her hand free. “The toraline. Give it to me, and give me the ink the spider used to make that tattoo.”

Rosetta: Don’t say anything out loud. They’re still listening. Do you still have the credit chit you got from the dead pig?

The credit chit was a credit card-like device we’d looted off an orc hunter on the sixth floor.

Carl: Donut has it in her inventory.

Rosetta: Good. I’ll get it from her later. Now give me the items I asked for.

I pulled the sliver of the vegetable out from my inventory. All I had left was a finger-sized slice. The glass container containing the tattoo ink that Shi Maria had brewed was still hot to the touch, and I had to hold it by the top edge. There were only a few thimblefuls of liquid left.

I felt the eye blink on my chest, as if it had been awakened by her touch.

“Mordecai has more,” I said. “Of the toraline, I mean. But not much.”

She sighed. “Give me access to your saferoom, and we will get to work. Give me access to your bomber’s studio, too. And three million gold.” She glared at the sliver of vegetable. “Better make it four million.” She pointed at Donut. “You. Don’t wander. We have to purchase some things from that bopca out there, and I need your charm to get the best price.”

I could feel that Donut was about to say something snarky to the woman when Rosetta added, “If that’s okay with you, warlord. You have the highest charm out of all of us.”

Donut appeared to weigh her response. She had an unreadable expression as she glanced back and forth between me and Rosetta. She turned to look at Tipid, as if she was contemplating something. She turned her attention back to me, her eyes focusing on my own, which were still wet with tears.

“I suppose that will be acceptable,” She finally said. She paused again, and then added with a much more cheerful voice, “I must say, Rosetta. I do like this version of you much better. You’re much more confident than you were on television. You were giving me Charlotte vibes when we met you last time, but now you’re a straight Samantha. Not sex doll head Samantha. Sex addict Samantha. But, you know, bald.”

“What?” Rosetta asked. “What does that even mean?”

“See? It’s great.”

I held out my hands. My head spun. “Wait a minute. Everybody just wait. What the hell is going on? There’s fifty thousand of you? How did you get here?”

Tipid grinned. “You might want to sit down for this, brother. We have a short story to tell. Then we gotta get to work.”

~

The “short” story took almost an hour for Tipid to relate, and even then, he only managed to tell us the basics.

He told us of his life after he’d left the dungeon. Of the surgery he’d had to get to keep himself alive, and the debt he’d incurred as a result of that surgery. He told us of Doctor Hu of the Crawler Project, an NFC organization dedicated to helping former crawlers navigate the universe after release.

Dr Hu. Dr Porthus Hu. Author of the second edition of the cookbook. The first crawler to receive the item.

“Is he here?” I asked, interrupting. “Did he come into the dungeon with you?”

“No,” Tipid said. “We all had to scatter when they accused us of being a terrorist organization. I don’t know where he is.”

“Wait,” Donut asked. “So, are you like fugitives? Are they going to swoop in and arrest everyone at any moment?”

Rosetta grinned. “Oh, I hope they try, warlord. But now that we’re in the game, there is nothing they can do. They’ll wait until we get out to try to arrest us.”

There was so much I wanted to ask. Tipid continued, all of us paying rapt attention.

Dr. Hu’s work had been instrumental in helping to create multiple laws that would protect crawlers upon release. Because of the Crawler Project’s campaigning, all released crawlers were now automatically citizens of the Syndicate and given access to the inner system primary zone, which came with free healthcare and guaranteed housing. When Tipid was released, he wasn’t afforded any of that.

Mistress Tiatha sat off to the side and grunted with derision as she listened to this. The half-elf manager of Elle was drunk as usual. “That citizenship perk is only for new crawlers,” she said, slurring the words. “And they’ll still bleed you dry on taxes. Us old guard like me and Mordecai are gonna get extra fucked when we’re released. And don’t count on that citizen rule staying in place for long. The rich folk sure like getting their faces up on the screen when they’re donating to some charity, but the moment a scruffy, former crawler shows up in their solar system looking to settle down, they’ll fight like hell to prevent it. Mark my words.” She took a long swig of her bottle. The woman’s eyes settled on Mongo, and they were wet. She rubbed them and wandered off.

Tipid continued. In addition to the Crawler Project, Dr. Hu formed the Open Intellect Pacifist Network, which was a smaller, more focused group whose purpose was to end the crawl all together. This organization did not have nearly as much support. I could tell there was so much more Tipid wanted to say, and I hoped I would get the chance to learn it all.

That whole incident with Paulie the residual in the body of a homeless man in the Florida shelter had been just one of several actions that had caused authorities to finally start to crack down on the non-profit.

After Tipid’s life-saving surgery, he finally settled in a Crest colony, where he worked for a waste management company for a very, very long time. We didn’t have time to get into the details, but it was Doctor Hu who had suggested the idea of refurbishing one of the garbage freighters into a passenger liner. He put out a call to former crawlers who wanted to get back into the game to help us with Faction Wars, and he’d been overwhelmed by the response.

They’d come to help fight their former captors. Even when I managed to get the protections turned off, they still came. I was, again, overwhelmed with emotion.

As Tipid told his story, Rosetta left and headed toward our saferoom. I warned Mordecai she was coming, and about five minutes after she arrived, a group of three more former crawlers—not cookbook authors—entered the saferoom and went out into the guild. All three were small, winged, lizard-like creatures called bune. All three waved and me and Donut before continuing on their way.

“You’re all level 60,” I said, watching the lizards scuttle off. Despite their wings, they loped about on the ground. “What level were you in the dungeon?”

“I was 96 when I left,” Tipid said. “When we checked in, they gave all of us the standard merc package. Level 60. Able to choose a non-permanent race and class. Most don’t go for the race change, but some did. My class during my first go-around was a poisoner. Now it’s something called a Liquid Dervish.” He grinned. “It’s a good one.”

“What about gear?” I asked, looking the man up and down. He was wearing the same thing Rosetta had been. The three bune had also been wearing just basic clothes.

“What you see is what you get,” Tipid said. “But, some of us picked classes that come with weapons or powerful spells.” He tapped his head. “Plus you get everything that’s up here. We may be level 60, but each one of us is at least a tenner. We’ve all survived Faction Wars at least once.”

“Tell him about the mercs,” Florin said.

Tipid nodded. “Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones added at the last minute. You just got a boost of 50,000 ready soldiers. The problem is, all eight of the other teams got a boost of their own. Each team has just about 20,000 new soldiers. All of them are experienced mercenaries, or in some cases, the private guard of the warlords. They let them come in armed. That’s in addition to their existing armies.”

“What?” Donut asked. “Why do they get weapons and you didn’t?”

“They negotiated a different agreement with the AI. They got to come in with their existing gear. They don’t get to change race, and their class is Hired Mercenary. They get to keep their weapons and are given a few rudimentary spells, plus whatever they can pick up here in the dungeon. Trust me, it’s a raw deal. Still, there’s a lot of them. Over 150,000 new bad guys to kill, spread evenly over the other teams.”

“Damnit,” I said. I met Florin’s grim eyes. My joy at having these reinforcements was starting to get clouded by this new reality.

Tipid nodded. “If we get to face the factions one at a time, I’d say no problem, but since they’re working together, we got a bumpy entry ahead of us, that’s for certain.” Tipid took a long breath. “Still, we’re lucky they didn’t let them choose a race and class. They’d be much stronger. I’ll take my Murder Tornado spell over a pulse rifle any day.” He gave me a wink. “And wait until you see what my friend Justice Light can do. That eagle knows more about traps than anyone who ever set foot in the dungeon.”

“Okay,” I said standing up, trying not to let the emotion overwhelm me all over again. “Let’s get to the base and meet up with everyone else.”

~~

Hey everyone! Holy crap. That was a difficult chapter to write for a million under-the-hood reasons. The next one, too, which I'm not done yet. Once those are out of the way, we will be off like a rocket, I think.

I will be off to Atlanta in a few hours for DragonCon. I hope to see some of you there, especially on Sunday at the Georgia Aquarium event. I have multiple events, and you can see them all in the app, but here’s a handy-dandy graphic.

Thanks so much for your support, and thank you everybody who met and hung out with me this past weekend in Iowa. It was a blast. I love almost all of you!

I have a metric fuckton of news I’m sitting on, and I can’t say any of it. I’m bursting. Audiobook comes out on Friday. Here’s a trailer. Spoilers for who Patrick Warburton will play, not that it’s going to be a surprise to any of you. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG75gY5HmLw

Right after I post this, I’m going live on Twitch with Maude Garrett to talk to her bookclub about books one and two. You can watch on Twitch at https://twitch.tv/maudegarrett

Thank you all!