Earth – World of The Misplaced Dungeon

{Timeline: January / February 2020 – MD ends with Ch. 143}

Donald Serpiente directed his wheelchair out of Dr Bellwether’s office. He bitterly contemplated the coming end of everything. He made his way to the lift; he took it to the garage.

Half an hour later, he was gritting his teeth against the pain of his cancer, and even worse, of the death of all his dreams. In his mind he kept hearing Dr Bellwether’s raspy tone saying, ‘I’m sorry Donald, the tests are in, you have less than two months left.’

Letting out a sigh of disgust, Donald set his adapted car into motion, and eased his way out of the garage. He squinted slightly at the bright sun and fumbled his sunglasses on. He drove, almost robotically, instinctively.

With a start he realized that, out of habit, he had driven to Falstaff Middle School. He drove into the parking lot and parked his car. He looked at the school he had been principal of, for over twenty years. He had had been forced to retire when his cancer had spread. It had been nearly two years since he had been here last.

The change was shocking. He looked at his former school with growing disgust. It was amazing what a difference two years could do. Galbraith, his successor in the post, had let things run down badly. He freely acknowledged that the school board were a bunch of misers, but— There was no excuse for this. Yes the place had been a bit – tired – under his management. But it had been an OK school.

Now the gym roof was missing a load of tiles, in fact it had a hole in it, and not a small one. Which probably meant it was unusable. Several windows in the main building were broken, and the whole place needed a coat of paint. And a damn good clean. The outdoor basketball court looked bad, the floor of the pitch needed fixing and the basket backboards were severely dilapidated.

Donald gritted his teeth at a fresh wave of pain and fumbled out two pills. He dry swallowed them, and sat back in his seat with his eyes closed. He waited impatiently for them to kick in.

The hallucinations were back, he could see his old friend William Kato. Donald grimaced as in his mind; his old friend resumed his monologue, about his experiences since he moved to Hawaii. Donald tried to cast off the visions but failed. He remembered his last phone call with Will. Was it only a few days ago? He had been going on about one of his pupils. Apparently the girl had dropped out recently, not needing to continue her education to make a living.

Will had been frustrated about that. Donald had gained the impression that Will had been both relieved and upset. Will regretted having a pupil with a guaranteed scholarship drop out but – the girl had known how to game the System – in fact according to Will she tended to refer to it as Bluey, as if it was alive.

And naturally, as he was thinking the System, of Bluey, his hallucinations ushered in the System’s screens. What had old Kato said about the girl, about dungeons? Oh yes...

“Hey Bluey, can dungeons be something other? Could I take over that school? Become... I don’t know... the – heart – of the school. Provide maintenance and protection, and above all – learning,” panted Donald.

Donald felt as if something – spiritually massive – examined him with surprise.

« A dungeon core can be many things. But it is always the heart and soul of a dungeon. »

“Would I have to kill? Or could I protect and teach?”

« Your growth would be slower. Many on this world have avoided killing. »

“Like the girl on Maui?”

« ... »

Donald sensed that ‘Bluey’ was amused by something. He gained the impression that ‘the girl on Maui’ was not as innocent as he and Will had assumed.

“Then how?” asked Donald.

« They hide their deeds, and there are others. They are however far weaker than the ones that kill. »

Donald tried to think things through. He looked at the wreck of the school he had dedicated his professional career on, and felt his anger mounting. He blinked tears away, his mind still feeling sluggish. He laboriously unloaded his wheelchair and dropped into it with relief. He was thankful for the fact that the pupils had all already gone home for the day.

Donald set his wheelchair into motion and headed into the school grounds.

He was surprised to meet Meyer. The school’s netball coach smiled when she saw him. Then her face dropped as she really saw him. “Hiya Donald, how ya doing Snakey?”

Donald snorted at the old nickname his former pupils had inflicted on him. “You’re looking good coach. What in hell’s name has happened here. The bastards on the committee are a bunch of tight fisted misers but...”

Meyer winced and bit back her habitual answer. It was obvious to her that old Snakey was hurting, and anything but well. Figuring he deserved an honest answer, Meyer explained, “I don’t think it’s the committee’s fault exactly. Gallbreath is always complaining, but he has taken two foreign holidays, and he has a brand new Porsche. And he’s still a snappy dresser.”

Donald looked at his old friend, his thoughts might be foggy, but he was not stupid. Coach was more than hinting that his successor, the man who had all but pushed him out of the school was a thief. And that he was stealing from children – children, he, Snakey still considered his.

They ended up in Meyer’s ‘office’, the interior of the school was as depressing as the exterior. The more he saw, the more determined Donald became. He just had to do something. He decided to gamble. He had nothing to loose after all... Just two more weeks or so of increasing pain.

It took Donald a lot of effort, but he managed to convince Meyer. Though Donald suspected that in the end she was only convinced by the knowledge that he was going to do it with or without her help.

In the end Meyer used her personal tablet to find out everything that was available on dungeons and dungeon cores while Donald used the System.

“Don’t worry Meyer, you know I would never hurt the kids. Give one or two of them a good scare... That yes... And only if the little monster in question deserves it, But not hurt.”

Meyer looked at her friend and sighed. “And how do you plan to communicate with us. If you find evidence of what we suspect... How will you communicate?”

“I could make you the dungeon’s Voice Coach.”

“From what I found online, that is a two edged sword. And anyway, I haven’t seen the screens yet.”

“You will Coach, you will... Everyone will, sooner or later. Bluey is persistent.”

Donald called up the System’s screens. “OK Bluey, let’s get on with this. I want my race to be Dungeon Core. I really do.”

« Done »

Meyer watched in disbelief as the air around her former boss and friend seemed to shimmer and was replaced by a small spherical diamond. She stared at the incongruous sight of the diamond resting on the seat of an advanced wheelchair.

Mana swirled thickly as Donald established the core of his domain and Meyer started to see the much talked about blue screens.

« Congratulations on having chosen to become a dungeon core, you may choose one starting monster type. »

« I choose Borribles. »

« ? ... searching ... please confirm your choice – Borribles yes/no »

« Yes »

« confirmed – Borribles »

« Bluey, I wish to offer my friend Coach Meyer the position of my Voice. »

Meyer meanwhile was dealing with her own integration. She had, like many others, studied the possibilities. She was working the screens frantically. Like many she was seduced by the reported lifespan of the elven race.

Then she was jarred back to the world by a screen reading:

« Do you wish to become the Voice of the Dungeon Core known as Donald Serpiente or Snakey – yes/no »

Meyer, regarded the message. Then slowly she reached out and stabbed the ‘yes’ with a finger.

Snakey knew instantly when the link to his Voice snapped into being. He explored it cautiously. He knew instantly that Coach was now an elf. And that she would be growing a good thirty centimetres taller during the next few days, just as hair would change from its mousy brown to a vibrant green.

« Congratulations Coach. You’d better put me in a drawer, then take my keys and drive my car somewhere. You can keep it if you want. I won’t need it any more after all. Use the cash in my wallet towards your new wardrobe. See you tomorrow. »

* * *

First thing Snakey did was to expend his initial allocation of mana to claim the small room he found himself in, followed by part of the gym it was attached to. He then explored the functions that were now open to him.

The Dungeon Exchange Blog surprised him, when he found if was already fairly active. Curious he introduced himself and ventured a couple of questions.

Falstaff Middle School: Hi. I’m err, Snakey. I’m newly established. I used to be the Principal of this school and I want to save it from my thieving successor.

Alligator Haven: Welcome bro. Gator and Swampy here.

Blackrock (cmp): A school! Are you for real?

Weasel-hame: Hey, don’t mind him... He’s just a little uptight.

Falstaff Middle School: Look, I know Galbraith is stealing from the school. Worse the place is so run down it’s becoming dangerous for the pupils.

Alligator Haven: Hey! Monster Mama you there? Youse needed girl...

Blue Lagoon (cmp): I’ll get her. Snakey, do you need a companion or have you already picked one up? What monsters have you got?

Falstaff Middle School: Borribles, and no I don’t have a companion yet. Any chance of getting one that can double as a magic teacher?

Blue Lagoon: *Sigh* You guys who choose dungeon core on Earth are just too trustin’ of the law. You should pick something that has the potential of evolving to stop adventurers dead. Try please to guard your cores and not trust in the good will of strangers.

Blue Lagoon: Mycroft is checkin’ Snakey. I can recommend a couple of possible teachers, but they would be mine. Their loyalty would be divided.

Falstaff Middle School: How do I get an Avatar? I figure I could claim the cancer entered remission. Then I could resume the post of Principal.

Blue Lagoon: Up to now I’ve been doin’ it for the kids. I could gift you with an Avatar but... You would owe me a big, and I mean BIG favour. Miracles cost Snakey, and it would bring you to the attention of your god.

Weasel-hame: My other self has memories of the Guild inspecting his core. Surely that happened to you?

Blue Lagoon: The only beings who have seen one of my cores are my companions Trisha and Jerica, and my guardians.

Falstaff Middle School: Kato really hasn’t a clue about you Ms Silvestre, has he? And I’ll risk it. If you can grant me an Avatar that’ll be able to pass as human.

Blue Lagoon: You know Kato? How ’bout sea-human. You can create a sea cavern to keep yourself healthy. Or Weresnake?

Falstaff Middle School: Weresnake seems appropriate, somehow.

* * *

Snakey’s attention was jerked back to his domain when a presence manifested itself. His dungeon senses told him that a god was present.

« Donald Serpiente, also known as Snakey, I hereby grant you the use of a weresnake as an extra Avatar. Bluey please note I do NOT claim this one’s allegiance. That remains with his God. »

« ting – so noted »

« Luck Snakey, You’ll have’ta scramble an’ risk your neck outside your domain to accomplish all you wish. Mycroft will be letting loose the dogs of the law on Monday. Galbraith is toast, or will be Monday. »

And then a shaken Snakey knew he was alone again.

* * *

Father Emanuel Dombrowski woke knowing he had to visit Falstaff Middle School and meet someone named Donald Serpiente.