50.

  Egbert looks over the loot bug playground thoughtfully; he had rules to implement, and by the gods, he was going to abuse that as much as the system let him. He had already tried making it so no mages were allowed in the dungeon. That had been met with a definitive “fuck off.” From the system, just worded a bit more officially.

  He had tried to narrow the scope down to make it more palatable for the picky, all-knowing entity that was intent on killing all of his fun. He tried making it so individual rooms wouldn’t allow you to cast spells. That was also met with a ‘Stop it, I know what you are doing; use the damned milestone reward for its intended purpose.’

  So here he was overlooking the room, trying to figure out a couple rules to toss out that would at least earn him some coinage. The obvious one for this room was no flight, but he was going to put that one into the loot pit room as well. If someone got down into the pit with Bully, Egbert really wanted them to work for it or pay to get back out.

  I mean, normally this room has people running around like absolute idiots before they brain themselves on something or a lootbug finally gets a nibble in and they run away crying and cussing. If I'm lucky, they use the haste shrine a couple times.

  The mana crystal dispenser has been more ignored than I would have hoped; most people are scared shitless of falling into the pit with Bully, which is fair. Ha, could say no running in this room, but that would…oh gods, I'm an evil genius. One second…

  Egbert hung a bright gem from the dead center of the ceiling that randomly shifted between green and red light. Normally it would stay a pleasant green, but every thirty seconds or so it would flash to red for a handful of seconds.

  Ha, just like the city’s stupid carriage management methods, red light, green light.

  Egbert had a couple of good rules now, so he impressed his will over the room. There was a slight shimmer of golden mana across the air that impressed itself into every inch of the room. Simultaneously a large, impossible-to-miss sign was woven from mana with the rules clearly posted, like the system told him he had to.

  [Rules installed at Loot Bug Playground]

  No running when the light is red.

  When the overhead crystal is lit with a red light, you may not ambulate at a pace faster than a powerful walk. Breaking this rule incurs a 1 copper penalty for each stride run.

  No Flying

  All magically assisted or natural flight from adventurers is banned in this room. This includes but is not limited to. Potions of flight, true flight skills, racially granted wings, being thrown by Thrognar, etc. Breaking this rule incurs a 1 silver penalty per second flown.

  No Cursing

  You must not use foul language while in pursuit of your golden-shelled prey in this room; there are no exceptions for failed dives and near misses. Breaking this rule incurs a 1 copper penalty per curse word used.

  No Crying

  You must not cry within this room, either from frustration or despair. The only exception to this is in the case of testicular trauma. 1 copper penalty for every ten seconds of crying or sniveling within this room.

  Egbert could tell he was right at the limit of how many rules he could impose on the loot bug playground, so he left it off with the no crying clause for now. He had one rule he wanted to put on every single room in the dungeon, and he needed to leave space for it.

  He moved over to the loot pit; honestly, this room was already harder than raiding a dragon's lair for most adventurers. There had still only been something like six parties that had successfully gotten the chest open without simply fleeing in various states of broken and slightly stabbed. There was even one poor bastard that had spent an entire day stuck in the pit in the grasp of a man-grabber claw until the knights had saved him on their way by.

  After that encounter, Oliver Twist’s evil ghost brothers learned the hard way that Joe hated ghosts with a spiteful passion. He had chased those little thieves all the way down into their lair in the corner of the pit just to make damned sure he banished them with his ghost-be-gone lantern. Then he banished the general area for an uncomfortable amount of time just to be damned sure.

  Alright, no flying is another easy, obvious one for a room that is at its heart an evil obstacle course with a few twists. I don’t want to actually make the room impossible, so it should be something that is more of an inconvenience than anything else. Ha, oh, that’s stupid. I’m doing that.

  [Rules installed in Loot Pit]

  Stairs must be taken one at a time.

  When ascending or descending into the loot pit, you must take each of the uneven stairs in turn. No jumping straight down and no skipping them on the way back out. Breaking this rule costs 3 copper per step skipped.

  No Flying

  All magically assisted or natural flight from adventurers is banned in this room. This includes but is not limited to. Potions of flight, true flight skills, racially granted wings, being thrown by Thrognar, etc. Breaking this rule incurs a 1 silver penalty per second flown.

  Ehh, the flight rule might well be redundant, but I damn well want to make sure some monster with a strength that would let them just haul the chest out doesn’t come in and utterly trivialize the pit with a flight potion and a mage deflecting the grabbers for them.

  Egbert was pretty happy with the rules in the first two rooms for now, so he decided to actually go surveil his domain and see how people were doing with quests. He had dotted a couple traps into the loot bug castles, and folks were betting whenever people tried to take on one of the lords. Right now he recognized a pair of adventurers that he had gotten a kick out of last time they were here.

  Jhon and Ender, the rather frumpy monk and his rakish duelist of a teammate, were standing at the quest board bickering over what challenge to take.

  Ender gestured enthusiastically. “We can absolutely take on the spider! Just a quick stab to the brain, and boom, we have a whole fistful of greed points! Did you see some of the rewards other people have gotten?”

  Jhon looked at him with a dead serious frown. “Ender, if you spend our fucking coins on the spider, I’m leaving the party and telling your wife why you really needed that cleansing potion. I’ll be damned if I have to go anywhere near that thing again in my lifetime.”

  Ender rolled his eyes and swished his hat. “Bah, fine! No need to be so dramatic, alright? What about Bubba and Twitch?”

  John slowly read through the descriptions. “Hard pass on Twitch; I saw that thing scurrying after an adventurer yesterday. It looked like a drugged-out demon. Bubba could be a possibility, but honestly, I don’t think we could beat him. What about Remorse? It’s closer to the spider than I would like, but that mimic seems to well, suck, at its job.”

  Ender read through the Remorse information himself a few times. “Yeah, that seems fine! He fed in the required coins, and a small scroll appeared in the air ahead of him.

  Egbert checked his gold total real quick.

  [Copper 5][Silver 7][Gold 39] [Platinum 1]

  The quest board was working wonders for his daily income, but he knew there would be a reckoning on his total when people started getting enough greed points to cash in on loot boxes.

  Oh, speak of the devil, a customer here to redeem his points. Alright, Mr., I'm ready to be robbed blind!

  The adventurer in question looked like he had been dragged across a hostile landscape for days. His leather armor was in shreds, dangling from a single strap on his back. He had enough bug guts on him to nearly obscure his features, and he stumbled the last few steps to the reward station.

  Huh? What quest did he do? He looks like something ate him.

  Egbert checked real quick what quests he had finished and started laughing quietly to himself. The crazy bastard had touched Bully's castle and caught three loot bugs. He'd done all of it in the last day.

  Alright, man, you deserve a nice reward after all that. Besides, this is only going to cost me a gold compared to your…considerable contributions.

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  The man slammed greed points in one after the other. Each one he put in caused the fireflies to flicker and a small sourceless chime to ring across the porch. It turned all of it into a spectacle that Egbert hoped would encourage more people to use the quest board.

  The man chose the loot box for 5 points because, of course, he did. Egbert grumbled as one gold was deducted from his total, and a very flashy chest appeared before the man. He dropped to his knees in sheer exhaustion, tears streaking through the grime on his cheeks.

  “Please, be something good; little Suzie’s medicine is almost out.”

  Oh great…he’s a loving father here to try and get money for his daughter’s medicine. Now I’m really going to feel bad if he doesn’t walk out of here up a few coins overall.

  The man opened the chest slowly, his eyes going wide at the slight magical glimmer that accompanied its opening. He reached into the open top with shaky, hopeful hands. Slowly pulling free a bolt of folded pink cloth. He stood and unfolded the rather lovely sundress with an expression somewhere between disbelief and horror.

  “What the FUCK?” he screamed at the dress.

  Oof, I do feel bad, but not like… refund bad… Better luck next time!

  The father turned with a resigned look in his eyes back towards the lootbug room. He whipped some of the gore and tears away and marched back into the dungeon.

  Still not doing a refund! Maybe a discount… Okay, let's be honest, I'm not going to give you a discount either. Well wishes—I'll toss some well wishes your way.

  ***

  Thrognar and the Orphans—Bandit Camp

  Thrognar marched at the head of the band of miscreants like a conquering hero; his head was held high, and his chest was pushed out, and loosely trailing from his hand was a leash that led around the head of Bacon. The sow wobbled along behind him, its hooves sinking a half stride into the pine needle-covered forest floor with every step.

  Ahead of them, the bandit camp was cleverly tucked into an especially dense patch of trees that surrounded an old abandoned lumber mill. Tarps of a mottled dark grey material were strung from tree to tree to further obfuscate the camp. Right past the makeshift log gate they could see a flurry of activity.

  Dozens of roughshod-looking figures sat clustered around campfires. Some sharpened weapons crudely against whetstones. Others riffled through one of the stolen carriages stuffed towards the back of the camp, searching for hidden compartments that might have been missed on the first go-around.

  Resh made sure to step slightly ahead of Thrognar before they passed through the makeshift gate. The gate guard was an evil-looking man with a hooked nose and one eye. He didn’t say a damn thing as they passed by, simply spitting on the ground and grunting in approval towards the pig.

  Resh knew who they needed to talk to here, and he really didn’t want to risk letting Thrognar mingle too much. He looked around quickly while Thrognar was still busy trying to manhandle Bacon away from the crude kitchen setup jutting from one of the carts. Bacon had managed to get a snout through the cart window and was snuffling up a storm in some half-terrified cook's face.

  There were three campfires with uneven log seats strewn about them. Nearly a dozen stolen carts and carriages had been converted into living quarters with tarps draped over them and personal belongings like mirrors and shaving kits placed on small tables.

  There wasn’t a great pile of loot like Resh was hoping for, but he did see the leader’s carriage. It was emblazoned with rose etchings all along the side and golden filigree. They had obviously stolen it from one of the wealthiest noble houses. And right next to it was an armored cart, the kind the king used to transport taxes and payroll.

  Resh would bet greed’s core that that was where all the loot that had yet to be fenced was piled. He gestured for Orlock and Lily to help Thrognar herd the swine this way and picked his way across the camp towards the leader's carriage. A dozen eyes followed him, measuring his worth. He knew if he showed weakness here, these cutthroats were just going to try and take the pig and stuff him into a shallow grave.

  The leader of the camp stepped lightly down the stairs of his gilded carriage. Nothing about him would scream "bandit leader" to a normal person. He was practically dressed in light gray clothes with a thin, well-worn leather armor that covered him from shin to chin. His features were a bit bland, with short cropped hair—nothing that screamed, "Look at me."

  But Resh knew better; he had dealt with some truly dangerous people, and this was one of them. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, and his loose clothes hid what was probably startlingly explosive musculature. The sheath that held his sword was angled and unclasped so he could pull it without any fumbling.

  The single biggest giveaway to Resh, though, was the man's eyes. They roved over each inch of the camp in turn, constantly scanning for threats. And the dull blue orbs held an almost dismissive light. This was someone who didn’t value any life other than his own very highly.

  The bandit leader forced a friendly look onto his face. “Why hello there, newbies! I’m Conrad! And I lead this little band of miscreants known as The Bloody Toes, ominous, right…” Conrad threw his hands out like he was waiting for applause; a few scattered, half-hearted cheers echoed from around him. Lily sighed vehemently.

  Thrognar looked down at his toes. “But I like my feet.”

  Resh nodded with a pained expression on his face; he was having a real hard time coping with the bizarre friendly bandit boss act when he knew this man would absolutely gut him. “Ahh yeah, and I’m Resh…nice to meet you, bossman, so I’m guessing we are in now?” He gestured hopefully towards the pig.

  Conrad walked around to the side of the pig, giving it a fond pat and Thrognar an appraising, almost concerned glance. “Yep, you guys sure did a good job. I think you probably have what it takes to be members, but…you know, we have to at least make sure you can hang in a real scrap. So I’ll tell you what: you pick one member of your party, I’ll pick another one, and then they can fight with two of our guys.” He said it like it was the fairest thing in the world, but it was obvious it wasn’t optional.

  Resh nodded, a bit concerned about what was going to happen. “Yeah, of course… Obviously I pick the giant orc with the battleaxe the size of my torso.”

  Conrad smiled. “Naturally, and just to make sure everyone in your party is up for this, I’m going to pick the little gal hiding under all those scary-looking mage robes.”

  “Ooff, should have picked Resh; he’s the shittiest fighter.” Orlock mumbled in the background. Resh flipped him off as Lily stepped forward.

  She pulled her cowl back and let a tiny lick of black fire trail from her fingertips. “Do we lose if they die?”

  Conrad's smile faltered; he immediately realized he had misjudged something. “Pardon, young lady? I think I misheard you, but no, you don’t automatically lose if one of you two dies; as long as you put up a good fight, your party might still get in.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked. If my opponent dies, do I lose?”

  His fake smile faded away. “No, no, you don’t lose.” His eyes had gained a cautious edge. “Do we have any volunteers?” He looked around and didn’t wait for anyone to even have the chance to volunteer. “Ahh, well, Klein and Art get over here!”

  Resh stepped back along with Orlock while a pair of bruisers stood up from a nearby campfire, one wielding a great sword and clad in slightly rusted plate mail. The other in a shoddy mail shirt with a metal club as his only weapon. They walked over and squared up facing Lily.

  Thrognar finally realized it was time to spar and handed off the leash to a nearby bandit. “Don’t lose her; she is tricksy.” He patted the guard on the head and stepped next to Lily.

  Thrognar, bless his heart, didn’t realize that this fight wasn’t quite just a friendly bout; he held up a hand. “How hard should I punch the stinky men?"

  Klien made a snuffling noise inside his armor. “Hey, shut up, you filthy orc! It isn’t like we have a bathhouse out here!”

  Thrognar looked toward him, obviously trying and failing to hide a disgusted face. “Stream that way Thrognar show you miracle of soap.” He said with genuine interest in helping.

  Conrad chuckled unkindly. “I think you will figure it out. Start.” Klien swung his greatsword straight towards Thrognar’s face with a grunt and slight cough as his own Bo caught him full force sealed in his armor with the helmet down.

  Thrognar ducked easily under the massive swing. “Oh, not friends?” He looked towards Lily to make sure he wasn’t about to paste a friend, but she was busy.

  A serpent of fire and darkness was pooling from the tip of her staff, rising high above Art. Her cackling features were lit dreadfully by impossible ethereal black and white. Art looked like he was simultaneously about to shit himself and reconsidering every life choice he had ever made.

  The serpent dove down, its maw stretching wide over Art, who was desperately throwing a barrier of some kind above himself. It surged down, and more and more length was endlessly added to the flaming serpent from the tip of her staff. The grass next to the man turned to dust. The nearby campfire sputtered as the air became thin; nothing was left when the serpent finally ran out other than a blackened circle.

  Thrognar grumbled, “Show off. Okay, Thrognar turn.”

  Klien’s hand shot up, still holding the greatsword. “Wait, I don’t want to die!”

  “Don’t worry, friend Lily just teleported your friend! See, he’s all gone!” Thrognar gestured at the slowly dissipating ash like it was obvious.

  Orlock whispered to Lily. “How the fuck did you convince him of that?”

  Lily giggled. “It wasn’t that hard actually; I just had Resh put an apple somewhere when he wasn’t looking after I melted one.”

  Klien looked up from the ash just in time to have the sun blotted out when Thrognar’s fist crashed into his helm, denting the metal inward and sending him tumbling over a log stool. “Dat easy, Thrognar win!”

  Conrad smirked. “Welcome to the team; you will be real helpful for the next job. Now that's over. Everyone who can…gather up.” He glanced at where Klien was crawling around on the ground trying to pry his dented helmet off. “And someone help Mr. Stinky over there.” That got a round of gruff chuckles as the brigands formed into a loose circle.

  “Okay, listen up, you band of thugs. A bunch of you have been here since the beginning, back when we were knocking over small fries like the retirement village in the steppes.” A few figures nodded in recognition.

  One wiry fellow spoke up: “Yeah, I got fucking shanked by a grandma with a letter opener!”

  “Ahh, I remember that one, Orion; she was weirdly spry for being that damned old. Now we’ve gone from that to real jobs, big jobs, like knocking off the crown’s tax runs and even robbing the hoity-toity nobles!” That brought some enthusiastic cheers; obviously the people here weren’t the biggest fans of authority figures.

  “But the next job we have is bigger, much bigger. We have a client that will stuff all our pockets to the brim with gold! You won’t even believe who it is. The high and mighty pricks at Ulfrick's academy have come down off their throne to beg little old us for help. That new nancy-pancy gold-themed dungeon gave them a bloody nose, and they want to give it one back. So the next job is acting as muscle for a bunch of pants-pissing wizards who pay damn well.” He finished with a smirk and upended a large bag of gold onto the ground in a dramatic clamor to still any complaints people might have had.

  He pointed at the pile on the ground. “That’s less than half of the advance, boys. Who’s ready to go break a dungeon core?” That was met with uproar and jeers of agreement.

  Thrognar looked like he really, really wanted to say something, but Resh had his hand slapped over the big man's mouth. “Well, this isn’t great.” He whispered to Lily.

  Orlock looked like he’d been slapped. “But, I get endless free oatmeal…”

  Lily lightly thwapped him on the head. “Obviously we are going to ‘help.’” “She stressed the word ‘help’ with a flicker of hellfire in her eyes. Resh nodded in agreement.

  “I’ve only got like 6 months left; I’ll be fucking damned if they throw me back in a normal orphanage. Alright guys, let’s get ready for the big job.”