The Butcher's Masquerade (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #5)

by Matt Dinniman

I have never claimed to be a smart person. We all do stupid things. A lot of times, people do stupid shit not because they are stupid, but because in the heat of the moment, they make rash decisions. It’s a different sort of thing. That’s my excuse here. Heat of the moment. At least that’s what I tell myself. When Samantha said, “I almost have him,” I should have waited a moment and asked who she was talking about. She would have answered with, “The lightning-shooting river monster that has taken over the throne room of Fort Freedom.” And then I would have followed up that question with, “Are you biting down on this creature right now?”

Samantha: IT SWALLOWED ME AGAIN. DO NOT WORRY. I’LL JUST KILL HIM FROM WITHIN.

New Achievement! Premature Questjaculation! You beat a quest before I could even give it to you! Anticipating what’s going to happen is one thing, but this is just ridiculous. It’s like arriving in your pants before your date can even untie their shoelaces. Pathetic. Reward: You get nothing! And you would’ve received a good quest box, too!

“Do you think there’s enough of her left? Do you think she was worthy?” “She worthy,” Areson said.

This is a feather. It’s pink. It’s garbage. Fuck off with making me describe this shit. Do you want me to describe the dirt below your feet, too?

Carries a wand too, but it run out of zaps a long time ago.

They are nothing better than selfish, wild animals, reminiscent of those creatures who crawl over each other to purchase televisions on Black Friday each year.

Reward: Upon killing Queen Imogen, the contents of the High Elf Castle will become available to loot. There’s a rumor they have something hidden within that will protect one from Scolopendra’s attacks. That, plus a metric fuck ton of other good shit.

“She is not Miss Nadine,” Signet said, looking down lovingly at the new tattoo. “She is a blood and ink elemental, and she is a combination of the remains of who she was and of my personal memories of her. She is like a living portrait painted with her blood. But she is not real. Not in the sense you’re asking. She is a facsimile. A loving memory.” As I watched, the caterpillar straightened and then formed into a young, female chee wearing a long, flowing skirt. She looked up at the ogre, wide-eyed. A smaller, child chee appeared, peeking out from behind her skirt. Next to me, Holger gasped. “It’s Clint! She brought Clint with her! Oi, but he’s how he was before we changed. Look at all that hair.” “It happens sometimes,” Signet said softly, watching the new tattoo. The child Clint looked about, wide-eyed. “She loved him so much that his memory lived within her. So when we drew the tattoo, she brought his memory with her even though we didn’t have his body.”

and then maybe poke at the dinosaur quest.

“Do you know who the mayor of this town is?” “It was R’aggah,” the tree guy said. “But he has returned to the earth. An evil woman has taken control. A woman with two beasts that kill indiscriminately. Mayor Lucia Mar.” Fuck me. “Where is she now?” I asked. “Ooh, who’s that? She looks like my type of crazy,” Samantha said from my back. And that’s when I transferred away.

PART 3 THE UNHINGED CHILD

With every minute that passed, my panic rose. The thought of something happening to Donut and me not being able to do anything about it filled me with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

My interface snapped back on for a moment before snapping off again.

“Yeah,” she said. “That was quite the fight,

!!!!!

zone. So we’re sitting at the bottom of the ocean. Not far from the headquarters, actually. The ship is normally sectioned off into different environments, but it’s been cleared and pressurized to Earth standard, and most of the interviews will occur here from now on.”

Zev lowered her voice and spoke slowly and deliberately. “Your involvement in CrawlCon is highly anticipated. Not only is the universe looking forward to meeting you today, but it might be in your best interest to… linger as much as you can. Do you understand?” “No,” I said.

I instinctively formed a fist to see if my gauntlet worked. It did, just like when I was above sea level. I quickly dismissed it before I summoned security. Weird. What did that mean?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Try not to swear for this one, Carl. They’re children.” 31 “My daddy says you’re the cat’s bitch,” the little boy said. He was human, and his badge said his name was “Keith H.” The boy was about six or seven years old, and he had a weird-ass haircut.

“Ask your dad why that other guy is always coming over when he’s not home,” I said. I reached over and clicked the number one on the virtual tablet that hovered in front of me. “Next.”

from digital tablets to “nano, self-learning sculpting clay”

the little poop dumpling with the highest score wins.”

I’m Hurk. Designer of the Desperado Club along with several different sets.

“Thanks. She’s dead,” the girl said before turning away. “Jesus,” I muttered.

I reached down and picked five, which was the lowest I was giving everyone except that little asshole Keith.

“They’re all like that. You should see the adults. Your fellow contestant, that caprid guy, goes on a program with them every few days where they just sit in a circle around him while he screams, and they scream back. It’s the strangest thing. Nobody knows what’s going on in their heads. It is bizarre, even to me, and my boy, I have seen things you wouldn’t believe.”

Hurk turned all the way in his tank to regard me. “The gnoll child? Why would I do that? I’ve been giving all of these little snot factories ones and twos all morning.” “If you give her a good score, I’ll say I really like the design of the Desperado Club during my next panel.” “Sold!” Hurk said. He looked up at the soother kid holding the flower sculpture. “You’re still here? It’s middling at best. Make way for a real artist.” The tall alien kid nodded solemnly and walked off.

“It’s my pup-pop,” the kid said. “He’s helping rid the universe of tax-avoiding scum.”

“Most of the time, I am okay with that,” Hurk continued, “With missing the ceremony. But I am rather interested in watching today’s service. The Eyber faction will be quite ruffled. They’ll be squirting anger slime all over the place. Gonna stink up the whole convention center.” “Who’s that?” I asked. “The kid who drew the portrait of your cat companion. They usually win this thing. The kid won yesterday. They love blowing bubbles up the posterior of the judges, but when they don’t get their way, watch out.”

“Good luck to you, Carl,” Hurk said. He paused a beat. “You know, it’s been a while since there’s been a crawler like you. One that people pay attention to. One that they actually see. Be careful.”

“Are you… are you doing okay, Zev? Donut seems to be pretty worried about you.” The fish woman smiled sadly. “I’m doing about the best anyone can expect. We don’t know what’s going on back home since the entire system has gone dark. When this is all over, those of us who stayed on after the change don’t know if we’ll be welcomed home or executed as traitors. Plus, you know, my entire family was slaughtered because I refused to wear a pin. But I got a job to do. I gotta go, Carl. See you in a few hours.” She blinked and disappeared before I could say goodbye.

We’ll likely turn your inventory back on right before you return to the dungeon, just so you know.”

“Hey,” Dr. Ratchet called over at me as I exited the far door. “Uh, good luck. At both the panel and when you return. Keep your head down.” I left the room, an ominous feeling coming over me. I suddenly felt like I’d wasted my time in the training room. Like I was supposed to have learned something that I hadn’t.

“That is correct,” Biff said. “Except for myself and the two flea-infested mercenaries who are smoking illicit, mind-altering materials while on duty.” “Watch it,” Moxo called from the corner. “Oh, I am terrified,” the frisbee robot replied. “My servos are quaking.”

“Yeah, he’s a psycho,” Moxo added. “But he’s a funny psycho, so they use him a lot for panels. I think he’s a worm head now. Can’t remember.” “Don’t say that in here,” Frito growled to his companion. “And he is. He died a few years back in a fight at a waystation, but he had a Valtay contract, and they got to him in time.” “They always do,” Moxo said. “Keeping the best of you alive,” he added in a sing-song voice, like it was a jingle. “Godsdamnit, Moxo,” Frito hissed. “Don’t fuck around.”

“Someone leaked her path to the panel room, and it is packed with fans,” Drick said. “Carl and Donut fans. She’s going to be grumpier than usual.”

Circe Took

“Your luck is a dishonor on the hive,” she said finally. “The hive can lick my sack,” I said. Thwap. The attack came so fast, I didn’t have time to react. Circe’s top, right arm blade came down and cut straight through the table, cleaving a huge chunk out of it.

I’d like to say my lack of reaction was because I was cool and collected. But it was really because it’d happened too fast. Still, I seized the moment and looked up at the bug, smiling. “I wonder how many times your daughter practiced that move. Too bad she never got the chance to use it.” A deep, chittering noise rose from the throat area of the mantis.

Circe leaned forward. She delivered the words in an almost deadpan voice, like a bored college professor. “We are here to discuss the history of the crawl and how it has changed over the cycles. We all know how it started. When the original council nations first accidentally tripped the primal engines and started the chain reaction that overpopulated the galaxy, it was eventually decided that we needed to both collect the primal elements left behind on all the pre-seeded worlds and to beat back the new biological overgrowth. In addition, superior species such as the Hive—who have been at the forefront of decoding and reverse-engineering primal technology—approached the council and demanded the ability to field test macro-AI-controlled enhancement zones. This, unfortunately, led to the formation of a Syndicate subcommittee that put the request under advisement….” She went on like this for almost ten minutes straight, not allowing anyone else on the panel to speak. The story was actually kind of interesting,

Wait crazy were 5 books in and not only finally getting this but also i didnt notice the abscence of the origin really with being so enveloped in our story

I kept thinking, if Donut was here, she’d have stopped this by now.

Sweet he looks up to her in this way

After a few more minutes of the bug woman discussing how the formation of the Indigenous Species Protection Act was endangering the very existence of all life in the universe, I leaned forward and banged my head loudly on the table. I placed my head firmly on the illusionary broken spot. It banged louder than I expected, echoing through the room like a gunshot. Circe paused her droning and didn’t speak for several moments. The other members of the panel didn’t speak, either. “Carl,” Circe eventually said. “What are you doing?” “You did it,” I said, not moving my head from the table. “You killed me. I am literally dead right now. Your kid couldn’t do it, but you pulled it off. You’ve succeeded in boring me to death.” The crowd erupted in laughter. To my right, Uptown Hal said nothing, and neither did Sydnee. Drick guffawed.

The heavy scent of the drug remained in the room. You idiot. This was the same thing as the drugs hidden in the pet treats on Odette’s show. This was a setup. I’d been drugged with something.

“So,” I said, loudly. “Can someone tell me the best way to kill Vrah?” Circe froze, stopping dead in the space between the raised platform and the audience. She stood rigid, not turning. To my right, Sydnee let out a gasp. The audience was suddenly dead silent. “I mean, that’s what you talk about at these things, isn’t it? That’s why we’re here, no? That’s what this whole convention is, is it not? To celebrate killing. We talk about monsters. NPCs. We glory in the casting of spells that melt the faces off people like myself. Vrah decapitates her kills and wears their heads on her back.” I allowed the uncomfortable silence to hang for a few seconds before continuing. “I just judged a little kid’s art contest where a bunch of them drew pictures of me dying. Of my friends dying. You treat us like we’re nothing. Like we’re not real. Like we’re below you. It’s like you’re all members of this giant death cult, and all the pain and suffering is just great as long as it’s entertaining and as long as it’s not you. You’re all smart. You’re intelligent, thinking species. You allow yourselves to separate people like myself into a different class. It’s okay. It’s just crawlers. But deep down, you know. You have to know what you’re doing. I don’t get it, and I don’t think I ever will. I have to get over that and accept it for what it is. So y’all like it when other people die. Great. Let’s go all in.” I pointed down at Circe, who remained frozen in place. “I’m not asking to cheat. I’m j...

Just little seeds here and there, and soon enough you have a forest.

“That’ll be me,” I called. “I’ll be the one responsible. And you should have thought of that before you sent them all off to die in my dungeon. It’s too bad you’re not in there, too. I guess you’re too old or too cowardly to face me.”

Or one that can’t be cured.”

They believed people like me—someone born on a “seeded” planet—were an abomination, and they considered the act of hunting us as a sort of crusade.

AND NOW I AM ATTACHED TO THE BACK OF THIS BUG. I AM SURROUNDED BY DECAPITATED HEADS AND LET ME TELL YOU, THEY ARE POOR COMPANY. Donut: OH, HONEY. YOU USED TO BE A SEX DOLL. I’M QUITE CERTAIN YOU CAN HANDLE ALL MANNER OF INDIGNITY. Samantha: DON’T SLUT SHAME ME. I’M GOING TO KILL YOUR MOTHER.

AND THE LAST TIME WE LOOKED, SHE WAS PUNCHING HERSELF IN THE FACE.