The Rat King was more than just a really, really big rodent. He was the end product of civilization, of wanton waste, compulsive consumption, and rampant growth. If entire towns and cities defecated as one entity, the Rat King would serve as a reminder that everyone should be ashamed of what they had eaten.

His wiry black fur was matted and caked over with countless layers of grime, filth, and sludge, hardening into a hard carapace. His enormous incisors bore the red stains of innumerable kills and devoured corpses disposed of in the sewer. The stench rolling off of the monster caused Berik to gag, but he quickly recovered when the horrible monster’s eyes glowed a fierce red, causing the smaller, normal-sized rats’ eyes to respond in kind. Dozens of beady little murderous eyes smoldered an unnatural crimson at him, each pair sizing him up.

At an unseen signal from the Rat King, they moved as one and surged toward Berik like a horrifying, bitey flood of diseased hunger. Berik gulped. He knew he couldn’t just stand still. Whatever this was, this nonsensical quest and all its bizarre rules, he knew he had to do what he did best.

He knew he had to fight.

He dashed towards the wave of vermin, determined to meet them head on. Swords wouldn’t work here, not against the army of little rodents. A sword was good for taking out one enemy at a time, not an entire stream of tiny creatures all at once. No, his brand new boots would have to do the majority of the damage here. He brought them down in a furious storm of crunching bones and agonized squeals. But his stomping kill-spree was brought to a screeching halt when three rats crawled up his leg and squeezed beneath his chestplate. He felt their razor-sharp incisors begin to gnaw and tear at his vulnerable flesh beneath his fancy new armor.

Berik shouted and screamed, trying to unbuckle his chestplate as quickly as possible just to make the agony go away. Why were his fingers so clumsy? Was he still that hungover? He cursed, seeing another wave of rodents heading his way. It was as if they knew of all their slain brethren back at the guardhouse and were finally coming to dispense some much needed justice. As they climbed his legs and scaled his arms, their red eyes radiated with an even brighter brilliance. They clawed and bit at whatever exposed skin they could find with a hunger driven by a desperation not their own.

His stomping soon turned to him ripping the filthy vermin off his face and trying to smash the ones burrowing underneath his armor using his gauntleted fists. He could feel them under there, all sharp little claws and plague mouths just looking for something soft to bite. He fell to the floor and began to roll, hoping to squash the disgusting invaders underneath him. Using the weight of his helmet and chestplate, as well as his gauntlets, Berik felt a series of squishing under his armor and jumped to his feet. Yup. They had been squished good. Real good. He resumed his stomping and slashed about himself, splitting a dozen rats with one swing.

But, as vicious as his onslaught was, there were too many! He slammed his shield down at an awkward, but somehow effective, angle and took out entire ranks of rats. It was like they were too smart for rats and had dealt with plenty of humans before. Soon enough, they had clustered around Berik again and were ready to attack from all sides.

He grounded himself and braced for impact when he saw the gigantic rat looming towards the rear of the battleground. He just stood there, observing the tactics of his minions, silently directing them if there needed to be a change in strategy. The Rat King was the brains behind all the little rats’ attacks! If he fell, they would be directionless! Probably harmless!

Ignoring the rats that still clung to his pants, Berik dashed to the Rat King. He swung with all his strength, sure that the blade would cleave into the monster’s belly. But the sword seemed to glance off the crusty fur as though the Rat King was wearing a suit of armor all his own. Before Berik could gather his wits about him, he was repelled by an invisible force and knocked to the floor, breathless and dazed by the unseen countermeasure. He tried to get his feet under him, but the rats swarmed over him, biting, clawing, blinding him with their wriggling bodies and rendering him unable to pull in a breath. He felt more than saw the Rat King standing over him, and he knew his time was short. The disgusting creature snapped his massive incisors as if in anticipation of his upcoming meal.

Somehow, underneath the mass of dirty fur, tiny claws, and wormlike tails, he was able to see a scroll emerge, as though it was right in front of his eyes. It looked like a smaller, simpler version of his character sheet, but the message was much shorter and much scarier.

WARNING: 3/18 HIT POINTS REMAINING

Was he…was he about to die? He tried to bring his hands over his face, but he didn’t have the strength. He felt the bulk of the Rat King shift, getting into position for his final strike.

“COME ON, BERIK! USE INVIGORATE!” he heard the Magic Eye shout from its vantage point outside the fight. Had it been there the whole time? What the hell? Berik had no idea what the loud orb was talking about, but the scroll switched from its dire proclamation to a different message. A query.

WARRIOR’S RESPITE: HEAL FOR 1D10 PLUS [FIGHTER] LEVEL. 0/1. USE WARRIOR’S RESPITE?

Berik had no idea what was going on or how to use Invigorate, whatever it was. But he tried to shout his assent as hard as he could and suddenly…

+11 HIT POINTS REGAINED

Suddenly, he felt restored! Berik didn’t feel completely better, but he was replenished enough to drive his sword through the mass of squirming rats, straight up and through the belly of the Rat King that crouched over him. He let out a squeal as blood sprayed from the wound like water from a burst pipe. It soaked Berik, and when he went to wipe his eyes, he saw the smaller, normal-sized rats quiver and fall over, dead like their sovereign. With a resounding thud, the grotesque Rat King slumped over in a puddle of his own blood and the little ones followed suit.

“Y’ALL DID IT!” the Magic Eye shouted, darting over to run laps around the bloodsoaked Berik. “YOU FINISHED YOUR FIRST QUEST!”

As dazed as he was, Berik checked his Quests again, just to be sure.

QUESTS

I Smell a Rat

Kill all the rats in the pantry.

50/50 rats slain
1/1 Rat King slain

“OKAY, NOW HEAD ON BACK THE WAY YOU CAME,” the Magic Eye said.

Not wanting to stay near all the dead rats, Berik turned and walked through the food storage shelves. He soon found the cell where he had awakened and was surprised to see a glowing, shimmering vortex in the middle.

“What is this?” he asked the Magic Eye.

“THAT’S YOUR WAY OUT OF THE DUNGEON,” the Magic Eye said.

“Is this…” Berik began, peering at the strange whirlpool that rotated in midair. “Is this magic?”

“YOU BETCHA. NOW, JUST WALK THROUGH IT. IT WON’T HURT YOU,” the bossy orb said.

He wasn’t sure what was going on, but Berik took a deep breath and stepped into the silent maelstrom. Berik felt a tingling gust of wind and wondered what had happened. As soon as he was through the portal, he found himself in front of a door marked “Pantry”. Had he been in there while he was fighting the Rat King?

He opened the door in front of him, just to see. Gone was the dark, terrifying maze of food storage shelves and rat carnage. It had been replaced with a large closet full of staples for every meal. Bags of flour, salt, and sugar sat on shelves. Bundles of herbs dried from the ceiling. Baskets of eggs sat in a designated corner.

Berik let out a nervous laugh. It was as if the dark stone maze, and by extension, the battle with the Rat King, had never existed. He knew plenty of people were fascinated by magic, but he had always tried to keep away from it. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t want to.

He didn’t have much time to ponder what had happened because a dwarf came running up to him. He had a bushy, blonde mustache and smiled like he had never had a bad day before.

“Great!” he exclaimed in a familiar, too-loud voice. “You did great, kid!”

Berik scratched the back of his head. Oddly enough, all the rodent blood that covered him was now gone, as though the gore had never happened in the first place. “Uh, thanks. I guess. Who are you?”

The dwarf smiled even harder. “Don’t you recognize me? Or rather, don’t you recognize my voice?”

Berik squinted at him. “You’re the Magic Eye?”

“Yessir!” The dwarf put his hands on his hips. “That was me who was watchin and talkin to you. I’m Coach Goldath Beardenbeard and I’m proud to be the first to welcome you to the Dawnport Dragons!”

Berik could only stare at him in confusion as they walked down a hallway. He still wasn’t sure where he was, but gods! Judging from the paintings on the walls and the lavish rugs on the floor, he was someplace way too rich for his blood. “The what?”

The coach grimaced. “Wow. You musta been really wasted that night, huh? Don’t you remember any of it?”

Berik sighed. “I remember losing my job. I remember going to the tavern. And I remember some fop coming in, declaring he was going to put Dawnport on the map. He said he just needed some strong people to join his party. We had some drinks and…I think I arm-wrestled him? We did some push-ups and did some shots…and…”

“And then you signed up to be in the Dawnport Dragons! And now you’re officially the [Fighter] of the party!”” Coach Beardenbeard said.

Berik frowned. “Yeah, but I didn’t sign up to be attacked by a huge rat monster.”

“Oh, but you did,” Beardenbeard said. “At least, you will. Retroactively. Once you take the check.”

Berik was about to ask what “retroactive” meant, but his ears perked up when he heard the word “check”.

They walked through lavish hallways, lined with candelabras and plush red rugs, until they came upon a set of double doors. The room beyond looked like it was formerly a receiving room until it was cleared out in a hurry. A man dressed in the finest fashions sat at the table in the middle of the room. His blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, his shirt finely pressed, but his red eyes and haggard expression spoke of a rough night. A really, really rough night.

“Is this him?” he asked in a cracked voice.

“Yup!” Coach Beardenbeard said. “This is Berik Bauer and he’s trying to be our new [Fighter]!”

“Capital,” the man said, wincing. “Now, could you speak a little more quietly? I am still recovering from last night’s festivities.”

“Aw, then why’d you hire me if not for my commanding voice?” Coach Beardenbeard asked, clearly enjoying making the suffering man uncomfortable.

The nobleman looked up at him with eyes that looked like he wished he was dead. “Greetings, Mr. Bauer. I am Lord Douglas Monrovedere and I am forming a Dungeon League party to put Dawnport City on the map. After reviewing your performance in the dungeon, I am willing to pay you an advance of a hundred thousand gold pieces if you still want to be my [Fighter].”

Berik had to sit down in the chair opposite the nobleman to keep from falling down. “A hundred thousand?” he stammered.

“Yes,” Monrovedere said. “But there are a few more things you need to do before you can join the party. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Yes,” Berik said. “A hundred times yes. I’ll be your [Fighter]. I’ll be whatever you want for that amount of money.”

Despite how hungover Monrovedere was, he still managed to smile. “Then welcome to the party. Next, you’ll take a physical examination and sign some paperwork.”

A chill ran up Berik’s spine. A physical? Wasn’t doing the quest physical? And why did he have to get so drunk last night?