I watched as a group of three human crawlers were led away into the Bitches room by an elephant-headed elite who stood about seven-feet tall. I had the urge to get up and tell them to stay the fuck away when the waitress returned, pharmacist in tow.
The waitress placed our drinks in front of us. I received a glass and a bottle that was suspiciously missing a label. Donut received a bowl with a bright-red vodka drink. A trio of maraschino cherries floated within. She sniffed at it and made a face.
I barely noticed our drinks. Instead, I stared at the small, floating drug dealer, Quint.
The top half of Quint was that of a sharp-toothed, beady-eyed opossum. The bottom half of the creature was a whirling dervish, like he was halfway being swallowed by a miniature tornado. It twisted and turned on the floor, and I could feel the wind blowing off the small cyclone. Unlike the waitress, this guy had a description.
Quint – Level 75 Half-Djinn, Half-Garbage Scowl
Desperado Club Pharmacist
This is a non-combatant NPC
Half-Djinns are common amongst the Hunting Grounds and other forested levels of Dungeon Crawler World. Nobody knows for certain why there are so many hybrid Djinns out there, but one theory suggests that a rather ill-timed expletive is the cause of the population explosion. It is posited that a person in control of a Djinn’s lamp and the resulting three wishes once exclaimed, “Fuck this forest” or “Fuck this level” or “Fuck you all” or some iteration thereof, and the enslaved genie took that as a challenge. As a result, thousands of half-Djinn, half-forest creatures roam the dungeon. Only a few are intelligent. Only a few are sane. They are all dangerous little fuckers.
If you kill too many of them, rumor has it their daddy may come looking for you.
“I have lost count of the years, old friend,” Quint said, looking Mordecai up and down. He had an unexpectedly deep and growly voice, like he was a British street kid trying too hard to sound like Batman. “I thought you were supposed to be free several seasons ago. I was a little sad you hadn’t come to say goodbye.”
“Hello, Quint,” Mordecai said. “I’m on manager duty. This is Princess Donut, and she is my ward. This other fellow is Carl, who is in Donut’s party.”
“Pleased to meetcha both,” Quint said. “Mordecai here used to be one of my best customers in the early days. So, a manager, huh? That’s pretty lucky. I’m jealous. It’d be nice to be immortal for once.” He stopped, looking up into the air. “Oh shuddup, I ain’t telling ‘em nothing they don’t already know.”
“Quint here is a former crawler like myself,” Mordecai said. “He actually chose this as a race. He’s from a… an orcish world, right? I don’t remember. Wait, don’t answer. I don’t want you to get in any more trouble from the AI.”
The drug dealer shook his opossum head. “Being a manager is a sweet gig, I gotta tell you. No AI breathing down your back.” He looked up in the air. “Because that nanny can be a right bitch sometimes.” He pointed a clawed finger at my chest. “You two don’t bother trying to make a deal on the tenth floor, you hear me? If I could do it again, I’d push my way through to floor eleven. But you, pretty girl,” he said to Donut, “you got yourself the most knowledgeable manager in this game. You listen to what he says, okay?”
Donut looked at Quint through half-slitted eyes. “Who are you again? And why are you floating?” She looked at me. “Carl, is that a talking anteater?”
Ah shit.
“You’ve taken like two licks of that drink, and you’re drunk already?” I asked, examining her properties.
“I didn’t like it. I just ate the cherries. Vodka is gross.” She reached down and lapped up some more of the drink. “I am absolutely not drinking this bile.” She took yet another sip.
“Don’t worry. Quint here has a potion to snap her out of it,” Mordecai said. “Don’t you?”
“I sure do, mate,” Quint said. “Need anything else? My menu is mostly the same. I’m more expensive than those gits over in the Silk Road market, but my stuff is better.”
“Your stuff is definitely better,” Mordecai agreed. “But Donut’s charisma is 76, and she has a merchant class, which means we’ll be buying it at a quarter of the price you sell it for.” Mordecai, ever the teacher, turned to me and said, “Charisma bonuses don’t work on half-genies.”
“It’s Djinn. Not genie, mate,” Quint said. “You know how I feel about that.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Mordecai said. “You still offer the starter kit? And you up for a trade?”
Quint’s beady eyes grew even smaller. “I do indeed. But I wasn’t expecting anyone to be able to afford one until the fifth or sixth floor. What can you possibly have to trade this early?”
Mordecai sent me a quick, private note. A moment later two bottles of Rev-Up Moonshine appeared on the table. I’d been using them quite a bit in battle, but I had a stash set aside to sell. I still had 23 bottles left, not including the two on the table. I also had another ten boom jugs left in my inventory.
“No way,” Quint said, sniffing the bottle. “That Krakaren bitch said no more of the stuff was being made this season.”
“They were making it,” Mordecai said. “And Carl and Donut here are the reason why it was shut down. They have the last of it.”
That wasn’t exactly true. At least one other crawler out there had gotten their hands on some. I hadn’t received any royalties since the first few coins, but it meant someone had come across a few bottles and had made boom jugs.
“Make it four bottles, and we have a deal,” Quint said.
“We’ll give you three, and you also give me the potion to stop the world from being wavy,” Donut said sleepily. I hadn’t even realized she’d been paying attention. “Oh, my word. Carl, I think I might vomit. You didn’t warn me about this.” She took another drink and then started growling at the bowl.
“Deal,” Quint said.
“Wait, what the hell are we buying?” I asked.
“A starter kit,” Quint said. “It’s a suitcase filled with everything you need to start your own pharmaceutical empire. You’ll be the dungeon’s next kingpin, mate. Just don’t be selling in my territory.” He shot at me with a pair of finger guns.
“Trust me,” Mordecai said. “I ain’t buying all this stuff for giggles. I’m putting together a library for you.”
“You need a table?” Quint asked as we made the trade. He had a merchant-style inventory, similar to my own. The suitcase was actually a large chest. I had to move my bottle out of the way for it to fit on the table. It was filled to the brim with chemicals and herbs. Mordecai opened it up and started sifting through it.
“An alchemy table?” I asked. “We already have one.”
“Suit yourself. You need anything else? Word on the street is you’re looking for earth tobacco. I don’t have any right now, but I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
“Hey,” I said to the opossum as Mordecai rummaged through the box. “What happened last night? The bouncer said there was an incident with a pet or something?”
“Oh yeah,” Quint said. “It was crazy. This woman came in here. A crawler like you. I can’t remember what her race was called. It was something I’d never seen before. She was human, a real looker but with one goat leg. Anyway, she had two pet dogs. She put them in the playroom, and they went bonkers. The monsters killed two attendants plus another pet, and then they broke out onto the dance floor, snapping and biting and snarling. The bouncers moved in, but their owner cast a spell that froze the whole room. I’ve never seen anything like it. A crawler from the third floor casting magic that powerful. Anyway, while the room was frozen, she stole a couple bottles of tequila from behind the counter while her dogs made a chew toy of a few dancers. Then she took out a mace from her inventory and splattered the brains in of an elite gnoll who’d been talking to her. Luckily she didn’t kill any of the real bouncers. You should’ve seen this place afterwards. The playroom ain’t gonna open back up for a week. She got away, but she ain’t coming back. Her membership has been revoked, thank the gods.”