The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #3)

by Matt Dinniman

Placed Trap Set by you. Effect: A loud-ass alarm. Delay: None. Target: Red-tagged mobs. Duration: Until the heat death of the universe.

Peaking at Number 2 on January 13, 2007, it’s “Fergalicious!”

New Achievement! Cuck Aquaman! You got fucked by a fish. You’ve done something so spectacularly controversial, courts and lawyers had to get involved. The end result was *my* decision being overturned. Reward: You’ve received a Platinum It’s Not My Fault You Fish-Headed Assholes Don’t Properly Program Your Quests Box.

Carl: Donut. Don’t make her pay from her own pocket. It’ll make you look like an ass. Just settle on the price now to get your experience. Donut: I can get her lower, Carl. I can do it. I can feel her wavering. It is delicious. Carl: There’s no need. Open your boxes and you’ll see why. Donut sighed dramatically. “Oh, we needn’t go lower than 37,500 gold, I suppose.” “Really?” Wendita said. “So it’s a deal?” “I’ll have to think on it,”

“You know I have my own room now, right?” “Don’t be silly, Carl. I can’t sleep without you, and you know it. Now get into bed.”

I finally noticed the name of the folder in the top corner of my interface. Messages from deceased Crawlers. “Oh. Oh no,” I said. It hit me like a damn truck. I slid off the edge of the counter I was leaning on and to the floor. Everyone in the room stopped talking and turned to look at me.

I felt the haptic buzz of my Escape Plan skill activate. Additional words appeared on the mostly-blank page. Hello, Crawler. As you’re about to find, this is a very special book. If you’re reading these words, it means this book has found its way into your hands for one purpose and one purpose only. Together, we will burn it all to the ground.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered to Donut, who continued to quietly sob. “They attacked you, and you defended yourself. There’s no need to be upset.

“Anybody else want to try something?” Elle shouted. “You come for Donut or Carl, you come for all of us. I will freeze the blood in your veins and make your genitals shatter like glass!”

Astrid – Bloodlust Sprite. Level 125. Assistant Manager of the Desperado Club. The Bloodlust Sprite is one of the rarest, most deadly of the Sprites.

“Don’t do it, Carl,” said Donut. “You’re going to get stabbed in the stomach. This game never plays fair.”

Two red spots remained on the wheel. Nothing! And Get stabbed in the stomach by the croupier.

Behind me at the roulette table, an NPC screamed. I turned to see the floor open up underneath him, and he fell, disappearing in the hole. His screams got quieter and quieter as he fell. Additional, ethereal screams emanated from the hole, and a ghostly, clawed arm rose up from the darkness before turning into smoke and dissipating. The trap door slammed shut.

New achievement! Locomotive Breath! While it’s not exactly a feat of engineering worthy of a Queen Elizabeth Prize, you finally managed to manufacture a train derailment. Let’s hope this doesn’t set off some sort of unforeseen domino effect that will ripple throughout the rest of the floor, leading to mass confusion and death amongst you and your fellow crawlers. Reward: You’ve received a Gold Engineering Box! That was ominous.

“And then I’m going to cast a spell that will peel the skin off of you and your friends. But I’m not going to kill you. I have another spell to keep you alive even after you’ve been flayed. It will be a journey of pain unlike anything that has ever been experienced in this world. I’m going to...” I held up a third finger. A hole appeared in the metal plate. Fast as I could, I reached through, grasped the surprised elf-like creature by his long, silver hair, and pulled. The moment I pulled his head through the hole, Donut snapped off the spell. I let go, and the severed head dropped to the ground, mouth still open wide.

I’d seen that one listed a few times. I cursed that Quan asshole. He had to know what he was doing. What a selfish prick.

“Goddamnit, Donut,”

The Babababoon is the king of idiotic chaos. This exclusive mob was created by taking a standard earth baboon and crossing it with the population from a Florida jail drunk tank. Not gonna lie. I’m pretty proud of this one. These guys ruin just about anything we put them in.

“That’s m’girl. What’s a fine lass like yerself doing with this lot? I get off shift in a couple of hours. Got a place up at 60. M’wife will cook us a nice stew.” “Your wife?” Donut asked, incredulous. “She no mind one bit. She’d liken a smack of you too, I reckon. Plus she cook. We got a drop of fresh fish in our food boxes, we did.” “Wait, what kind of fish?” Donut asked.

Carl: Just hurry up. Donut: DON’T PRESSURE ME, CARL.

Donut: I DON’T LIKE THIS LADY. SHE’S ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS REALLY MEAN BUT DOESN’T THINK THEY’RE MEAN. Carl: No kidding.

Can’t people just be loyal? I’d said that not too long ago as Bea and I were fighting about her decision to get rid of Donut. We’d been in the car, on our way to a Christmas party, and she’d casually mentioned one of her mom’s Persians—Sugar Bun, who was Donut’s aunt or cousin or something—was pregnant and was due soon. Once weaned, Bea would be taking two of the kittens and Donut would be returned to her parents who would try to sell her as a show-quality breeder. You don’t even like her, Carl. Why do you care? She’s your cat. She’s a living thing, and you took responsibility for her. I don’t understand how you can just give her up. I don’t care if you get another cat, but why do you have to give Donut away? Do you know how much money she’s going to sell for, Carl? She’s a former international grand champion. She’s past her prime. I don’t understand what you’re not getting about this.

“Bye, Madison,” I said, turning away. “Go fuck yourself, okay?” “Right back at you, boxer boy.”

But a new wrinkle had developed. Defenseless, the Kravyad was now threatening to kill herself if the crawlers got any closer. The crawlers remained on the platform while one of them, apparently a former police negotiator, was talking to her through the doorway. If she did kill herself, and that portal closed, it was going to get ugly.

“Goddamnit, Donut,” I said. She saw me through the booth window and waved. Carl: Don’t make shit up. Donut: I AM TELLING THE TRUTH THAT NEEDS TO BE TOLD, CARL.

“Whatever,” I said. “Look, I want to talk to you about something real quick before we leave.” “Is it about the PVP coupons?” I froze. “How did you know?”

Goddamnit, Donut.

Eva’s mouth tightened. Hekla laughed. And at that moment, I saw it. It was just a glimmer in the normally stoic woman’s facade, but it was there. She’s having fun. She likes this. She’s as crazy as the rest of us.

Katia: This is just like when Donut wanted to climb up the chain and turn the roundabout. You’re a… a backseat dungeon driver. You only don’t like the idea because you didn’t come up with it. Ouch.

“I just realized you’re the only boy here,” Donut said. “All these people, and there’s only one penis. You could start a harem. Like the guy on that Sister Wives television show.” I laughed. “Nobody is starting a harem.” “No, I suppose not,” Donut said. “You couldn’t even keep one woman interested.”

“Eva? She’s an economics professor at the university. We eat lunch together sometimes. We were friends before, but not great friends. She actually knows Hekla, too. From before, I mean. Hekla has known her longer than I have. Reykjavik is a small town.” “Was Hekla a professor, too?” “No,” Katia said. “She was Eva’s psychiatrist.”

These worm things come out of them, and then they pull themselves tightly together, making a giant frankenmonster. It’s too big to leave the room, but it fills it completely. It’s a province boss, Carl. We all got achievements just for discovering it. Thankfully it let us get the hell out of there.

Elle: Okay. Stay frosty. Donut: IS THAT YOUR NEW CATCHPHRASE? I LOVE IT. Elle: Yeah, I’m throwing a few out there to see what sticks.

Carl: Donut, be cool. This doesn’t have to turn into a fight. She was trying something, and whatever it was, it didn’t work. We don’t want to fight her. “You tried to kill Katia you fucking bitch!” Donut cried. She blasted a full-strength Magic Missile right into Hekla’s face.

But Donut would not stop shaking. “I used to think you were awesome, Hekla. But you’re just like all the rest! You pretend to be good, but you’re not! It was a lie, all a lie. Why? Why can’t we trust anyone? You told Katia you wanted her. You made her feel special and loved, but you just wanted to use her and trade her in.” Katia finally awakened. She sat up, eyes wide. She took in the room. “Carl? Eva? What’s happening?” “Hekla tried to murder you, that’s what’s happening!” Donut yelled. “We don’t even know why. You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Control your fucking animal, or I will shut her up,” Eva growled. I put my hand on the side of Donut’s head in an attempt to calm her. It was starting to dawn on me why Donut was having such a visceral reaction to this. The monumental revelation hit me like a goddamned truck, but we didn’t have time to deal with it now. “We need to stay calm, okay?” “She didn’t do anything wrong, Carl. She did her best. It’s not fair.” “I know, Donut.”

And in that moment, just before all hell broke loose all over again, I finally noticed Katia’s level. She’d been level 24 when she’d formed herself into a cowcatcher at the front of the train. When she fell back from the wall, skull forming over her head—a special, golden skull—I saw that she was now level 37.

Donut returned to my shoulder. She hissed at the fairy. “If you try something, I will rip you from the air and eat off your wings. I’ve done it before.”

“She was protecting us,” Silfa said. “When she died, it automatically made Eva the party leader. People don’t like her. They’re leaving the party. Brynhild’s Daughters is no more. We’re nothing without Hekla. We have hardly any equipment. We don’t have a personal space anymore. We all have sponsors, but most of us have the same one as Hekla, the crab ranch, and they’ve never sent us anything. We have nothing. What are we going to do?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. There’s a whole train of people out there. I’m sure someone would love to join up with a healer and two mages. It won’t be us, though. We’ll never trust each other, and that sucks. It really does. It’s exactly what they want to happen, and it breaks my fucking heart.”

He nodded. “Okay. What will you be doing?” “We have some more friends who are trapped all the way at the end of the line. We’re going to save them. Each and every one.”

“Don’t track blood on the floors,” Katia called as we all tracked blood on the floor. “God, I can just hear my mother now. Katia, take off your shoes. You’re going to grow up and have a filthy home. It turns out she was right.” She laughed as she tiptoed through the room and toward her space. She still left dirty, red prints on the floor. At that moment, it hit me. Katia was now and forever a part of the team. Nobody needed to say it out loud. We all knew. While this would never be “home,” this space was just for us and only us. The three of us.

“Miss Beatrice once used scissors to get poop off my butt,” Donut said. “Uh huh,” I said. “Once?” “We’re having a moment here, Carl. Don’t ruin it.”

New achievement! Mentally Unstable Clothing Hoarder! You have over 500 of the exact same, stackable clothing item in your inventory. What the hell is wrong with you? You planning on opening a thrift store? You might want to see a shrink. One that your group doesn’t immediately kill. Reward: We don’t reward this sort of behavior. It’s weird.

Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. They’re going to make your chats public starting tomorrow for people who pay extra. Sorry about that.” And without another word, she popped and disappeared, splashing more water over the floor. “That’s just wonderful,” I grumbled.

“How am I supposed to cover my ears, Carl?” Donut asked.

On top of that, some crazy asshole who doesn’t want everybody to think he’s a crazy asshole is throwing a train full of explosives in our direction. So, you know. Typical day.

Donita Grace: Holy shit. Holy shit. Guys. Don’t go to stop 24. They’re everywhere. Millions of them. Worse than the grubs. Don’t… Warning: This message is from a deceased crawler.

“It’s not necessary, I’m sure,” she said, suddenly switching to her imperial voice. “Please, keep it. I insist.” But suddenly there was a line of people, all of them putting their hats in a pile of front of Donut. Her eyes shined, and her jaw trembled, revealing her two lower fangs as the people, one by one bowed in front of her and dropped the stupid train hat on the ground in tribute. “Thank you, Princess,” they said, one by one.

“It’s not very thrilling,” Donut agreed. “This is like getting an electric litterbox for your birthday. Indeed it’s useful. But it’s a litterbox for goodness sake. I was hoping for something with a little more pizazz.” “First off, that’s what Bea asked for,” I said. “I don’t understand how someone can get pissed for receiving what they asked for. Second, that thing was like 300 bucks.

Katia exploded. At least that’s what I thought had happened at first. Blood erupted out of her. Gallons and gallons of it, flying in every direction. It just kept coming and coming, an impossible amount. We all cried in surprise. I was blasted in the face, getting bukkaked by the fetid, stinking liquid. I fell over trying to get away, gasping and choking. Donut squealed and leaped across the room. Mordecai also flew backward, stumbling over the couch, his frog legs sticking straight up into the air. And still, the red spray didn’t let up. It hit the ceiling and all the far walls, like it was being sprayed from a multi-directional pressure washer. Mongo shrieked in joy, spinning about like a child in the rain. It kept coming for twenty full seconds before trickling to a stop. Katia just stood there in the middle of the room, eyes huge. Once it stopped, the room was filled with the sound of my coughing and Mordecai’s croaking and the tap-tap-splash-tap of Mongo dancing in circles like he was playing in a wading pool.

“Really, Katia,” Donut said, leaping to my shoulder. “If you need to borrow a sanitary napkin, just ask.”