Lady Cornswallow, daughter of the Duke of Wrosted, had fancied herself an adventurer. As such, her father sent her to the finest adventuring academy, where she graduated middle of her class. With her free periods, she started some more practical applications of her studies. She began adventuring in the small country of Shangra, were heroes started… or finished their adventures.

  She held her knife to her chest, as if hiding behind it. The Lady skulked the wet caverns of the Underdark. Proud, but terrified, her party had made it dubiously far for their first run together. Cornswallow had purchased an expensive map of the Fierce Forest and the current layout of the Merciless Maze. It came with a list of answers for any riddle trolls. After slaying every vicious animal they met in the Fierce Forest, they expertly evaded the traps and pitfalls of the labyrinth, where they were fortunate to encounter an empty boss level. They slipped down into the Unending Underdark where they were only two more levels away from the castle. Only two more before she inevitably got to the castle. She had insisted to her team that they pushed through, betting that the darkness of the caverns would be the perfect place for her to practice her craft.

  The rogue class seemed a natural fit for the duchess, who was regularly slipping out of her chambers and dipping through the palace; clinging to shade. She could escape without being noticed as early as 10, slipping into town and dressing herself as a pauper where she could feel free to explore the community. When she was old enough, she expressed this interest to her father.

  “I’d like to train to be a rogue.”

  “As you wish,” her father replied. He enlisted his best assassin to train her, before sending her off to the adventuring academy. That pathway, that internal drive to become a rogue, led her to the Unending Underdark. This was not practice. It was not a simple matter of slipping out of her chambers. There was no room for error in the enemy territory. Each of her movements were done with intention and forethough. It ws like her feet could communicate with her brain the exact density of cavern floor she was about to step on, was it moistened soil that had dripped from the holes above? Then she could place more of her weight. Was it dusty from the broken off walls of limestone? Then she would place it down gently, without twisting it on the ground to prevent any sort of noise. When she had no cover, as she didn’t in that moment, Cornswallow kept her body low and hugged the wall.

  “Make every move count,” She thought to herself, “Regroup. Idiots.”

  She had separated from her party. Her not-so-confidants. People she had met through shared classes. The group was a checklist of classes that their teacher maintained as ideal for balance. Someone strong, someone agile, magical… etc.

  Cornswallow poked her head over a corner. The throaty noise had attracted her. She saw him. A duergar sleeping against the wall, his pickaxe resting against him as the beard on his belly went up and down, mimicking the air in his lungs.

  Cornswallow became excited. Her first kill. Her first in-the-wild kill. She had spent most of the time with the party teeing up the barbarian, hiding and slicing with surprise, raking at the health of their conquests but with no opportunity to shine for herself. This would be her first assassination. Her right foot moved. It connected with hard stone. Any faster movement and there would be ‘clacking.’ Were she more trained, had more time in the field, then she would have been able to get there swiftly. It was her lack of experience that caused her to move so slowly, deliberating each move with the forethought of what to have for dinner. But as she crawled, the dwarf stayed sleeping. She took her knife out, a present from her father upon graduation. A bejeweled serrated knife and their family crest on the bottom of the hilt.

  This would be more than enough to kill the sleeping beauty. The duchess placed her knife to the dwarf’s throat. Every instintcst screaming at her to pull the arm. To not kill. Her trainer this day would come. It took a kind of inhumanity to kill a person or an animal. “This thing,” thought the duchess, “Is neither human nor animal. He is monster.”

  The blade hovered over the duergar’ beard, hiding his neck.

  “My first assassination,” She thought, her team would be proud. This would upgrade her instantly. She couldn’t help it, her bloodlust caused the slighted dribble of drool to wick from her chin and plop along the hard stone floor. The drop echoed slightly. Louder than she’d like but not as loud as she had imagined. Cornswallow scanned the corridor. She and the sleeping duergar were alone.

  “I’ll count down from three,” She thought. “

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  1…

  2…”

  Before her mind got to three, she felt a pinch, and saliva began to pool in her mouth. She swallowed it, but the taste of iron made her question her senses. She looked down at her arm where the knife still held the to the dark dwarf’s neck. Her hand was shaking. She pulled the blade and pointed it to her face. She was confronted with her own horrified expression, and behind her, a lumbering figure with two glowing yellow eyes staring down at her.

  She opened her mouth and blood spilled out. She looked down, the lumbering figure’s claws had emerged from her stomach. She looked up at the harrowing yellow eyes that matched her through the reflection of the blade as he said in a soft voice, “Let’s not wake him.”

  Her eyes closed, her head flopped, Grundel took his claws out of her and she fell atop the duergar, waking him.

  “Crap.”

  “Wh-wha?” The dwarf jumped awake. He stared at the dead girl on his body. “What happened?! Who’s she?”

  “She’s dead,” Grundel said, “I… kinda protected you. No big d.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Said the duergar, “Thank you, kindly.”

  “No problem. So… you want to… like, are you hungry?”

  The dwarf looked up at his superior trying to make nice with him, “Uh, sorry, Lord Grundel. I shouldn’t have been slacking off. I appreciate the saving but I have to get back to work. Invader season is clearly almost upon us.”

  “Yeah, no. It’s no problem. Just let me know when you get hungry. Mother packed me too much. I’d love to split it.”

  “Sure. Sure. Probably just… eat at the hall with the other dwarves.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  “Yeah.” The dwarf said as he kicked a rock. He looked down at the dead woman. “Yep. Uh… would you like to join us later?”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose,” Said Grundel.

  “Well, okay then,” The duergar walked away. Grundel stared as the duergar turned the corner.

  “Wait! Wait, I change my mind! I’ll happily impose!”

  But the duergar was gone. Grundel grumbled but moved on. He lifted the woman’s body on her side. This caused the shadow she cast to grow wider. He dipped his toe into the woman’s shadow and it sunk like a pool. He submerged his whole body, off to look for the other team members.

  The last two party members huddled together, their backs pressed against each other. There was the tall magician, a man with short hair, a stretched torso, and gangly arms used to cast spells. There was a short fighter. She was clad in heavy armor, her sword was held up, her shield had been lost in the madness of the underdark.

  “Do you see it?” The magician whispered to his compatriot.

  “N-no. Did you?”

  A brush of chill in an already cold air. The slight rasp of something on hard rock. These little disturbances would rattle the two remaining party members. The tall magician held his wand up, “Did you see what it was? Did you see what killed Befamy?”

  “I worry if I invoke it’s name it will somehow find us. Somehow track us down and drag us into the pitch of black.”

  “But it’s who we think… it’s who we fear? Don’t tell me the Floor Lord of the Underdark is upon us.”

  “Gods save us all,” Said the warrior, “I am not strong enough to encounter Grundell.”

  Then… in the depths of the quiet… a hissing sound rattled them.

  “G-Grundel is a snake?” The warrior turned to her magician after too much silence, “Muto? Muto?”

  She turned around, sickly pale, flop sweat streaming from his foreheads. She could see that she had lost him from his eyes.

  “I… I can’t do this anymore. We have to go. We have to run!”

  “No.. Let’s stick together!”

  She could feel her back become untouched as her magic teammate booked it further into the dark. Only illuminated by the occasional green fire torch that gave everything a sickly feeling, “Don’t!” She cried out, “Don’t leave!”

  She had wanted to say ‘Don’t leave me.’ But that felt too selfish a request. Once he turned the corridor, his silhouette was lit against the back wall. Something long and slithering, with a papal hat leapt onto his torso and coiled around his neck. She stared in awe as another creature, about knee high to her teammate jumped and attacked him with his claws before nervously saying, “Sorry for the stabbing! I’m afraid this is quite necessary!” She could not look as her last teammate had fallen. But when she turned around, her body faced the torch. Her body had cast a long shadow.

  Grundel emerged from the black of a shadow, claw first and used his large claws to scrape out the heart of the warrior’s chest. Grundel pulled it back into the shade with him, disappearing her to a realm few could see. The party had been vanquished.

  Jasssper and Kip looked at the dead body.

  “That one was the easist kill yet!” Said Kip.

  “You’re become more bloodthirsssty by the day, sire.”

  Kip bowed slightly, “Thank you. Now, where is that floor lord? Grundel!”

  “Hey, Kip.” Grundel’s face emerged from Kip’s silhouette on the rocks, “How ya doin’?”

  “Good. Thank you for ridding us of these pesky invaders. Did you know that they got in through a service tunnel?”

  Grundel’s lion-like muzzle nodded along the craggles of the rocks, “Oh, yeah. My guys reported it to me. Me and my guys, we’re like total bros. Mother explained to me why it would be bad and so I put a quick squash to it. How’d that even happen anyway?”

  “Who could be ssssure?” Jasssper asked.

  “I know the how,” Kip said, “But the more important question is ‘who.’ Seems we have a mole, Grundel. Somebody sabotaged that tunnel door. And I’m set on finding them.”

  Grundel shook his head again, “Best you do that, Kip. It’s like we said, Invader season is coming up and we’re getting ready. That was a single party but eventually it would get back to the humans and everybody would know about that door. Mother said that would be the worst thing to happen.”

  “Rest assured to you and your mother, I will spend all my resources finding the source of the mole. Right, Jasssper?”

  “Right, sire.” Jasssper said, a queasy feeling beset him, knowing that the mole they were looking for was him.

  When the Tar Pits opened up, all I could think about was: 'Thank god, another potential income stream.'

  My name is Drake. And I'm completely powerless, but I fight the monsters that come out of the Tar Pits every day. Not exactly my preference, but the pay is fine, and I need the money. Sis is in the hospital. One day, one of the big gods joins us on what was supposed to be a routine raid. When things went sour I found myself staring right at that big god with a knife in his chest.

  I could have saved him. I could have... but then I would have stayed powerless. And baby, I got bills to pay.

  And now? I got all the power I could ever need.

  Read the first 5