New Dungeon Discovered! – Jurassic Classic – Where boyhood dreams meet grownup nightmares.

The notifications snark hardly registered. All of Arron’s focus went into where to put his feet in the underbrush.

“Why is it different? Seems like everything else we’ve done so far,” he asked, bringing a round of curses from the group.

“It is most assuredly not the same!” Mercutio hissed. “And keep your voice down, we are endeavoring to be stealthy here.”

Accentuating the Bard’s annoyance, a branch swung back, smacking Arron in the face and drawing a glower from the Bard.

“We chose this dungeon specifically to work out some of our tactics and get used to fighting together,” Torbin chimed in. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

Arron kept his opinion of the place to himself for the time being. Unsure why, yet again, he was crawling around in the leaves and dirt, trying to be quiet. He hated sneaking around.

A snapping tree branch under his heel made it quite clear that being stealthy hated him too.

All heads turned, and his team gave him the “dude, seriously?” look you get when you’ve done something foolish.

“Sorry,” Arron mouthed, holding his hands up and over exaggerating his chagrin.

Thankfully, the sound didn’t pull any monsters from their dens. Roughly fifteen minutes later, they hunched down to peer through a patch of tall grass onto a clearing below.

Dinosaurs. Two actual dinosaurs. One red and one green circled each other, swishing their short, muscled spiked tails in agitation. And huge bone plates lined their backs, like jagged teeth protruding toward the sky.

Iris leaned over and pushed Arron’s jaw closed.

An impossibly loud grinding sound ripped through the valley when they came together in a brutal crash and Arron flinched.

The red dinosaur dipped its head to try and ram its plates into the soft sides of its opponent. Not to be outdone, the green stegosaur spun its powerful body and impaled its foe’s side with its tail.

Childish excitement thudded through Arron, reigniting memories of beloved toys from his childhood. Even classic movies featuring cavemen battling the giant lizards with nothing more than spears. Movies watched from the safety of the couch with his father smiling nearby.

“Dinosaurs! We’re fighting dinosaurs?” he yell-whispered, nearly hopping up and down.

“Aye,” Torbin said. “That there is the first mob of this dungeon.”

“Yes!” Arron nearly squealed in excitement.

With a full-throated, near crazed giggle, he sprang up, ran to the ledge and jumped without pausing. His increased Strength pushed him fifteen feet through the air before he started descending toward his targets. Mule was stretched out high above his head, a manic smile plastered across his face.

Deep belly laughs erupted from his throat while images of him and his father took center stage in his mind.

Anticipation radiated from his weapon, building on the desire to smash the subject of his frenzy. The longing from Mule mingled with his own, deepening it and setting fire to his veins.

The beasts scent started to register the closer he got. An earthy musk reminiscent of a pet shop, mixed with the sharper scent of crushed dandelions.

And then the green dinosaur spun its body again, quicker than any animal that size should be able to move and slammed its three-foot-long tail spike directly through Arron’s chest.

You Have Died!

Respawning at dungeon entrance.

When you go in head first…

XP Lost! Level Down – You are now Level 19!

You have died, and in death, lost some of the vital experience which made you more dangerous.

Sometimes it is better to travel with friends.

Arron woke up with a start, staring at the top of a cave illuminated by the cozy warmth of a fire.

“Hello, hero! I am Hildr, caretaker of those slain outside of time. I am here to help you rejoin your quest.”

Shit.

With a groan, Arron sat up, rubbing his chest where the spike skewered him. That had gone well.

Even his sarcasm tasted bitter after this particular defeat. After a few deep breaths, adjusting to the emotional whiplash, he turned toward the woman’s voice.

A spartan version of the respawn area he knew so well from Glendale—only this one included a fire pit in the center of the circle of benches—all awaited him inside the small cave. And as expected, another winged woman hovered off the ground with an amused smile.

Arron rubbed his face, trying to wipe away his disappointment.

His emotions warred with each other. Discouraged by his death and subsequent Level loss. Embarrassed at how quickly he’d been killed. And the leftover excitement from there being actual dinosaurs lingered. Another jolt of excitement rushed through him, even though one slammed a spike the size of his leg through his chest.

“Outside of time?” he asked, just now noticing the difference from Brynhild’s original greeting.

“Yes, hero. Everything that occurs inside of a dungeon, raid, or other instance is considered outside of time. Little pocket universes where your adventures occur and are then reset for the next player to enjoy. It is in these realms that I serve as guide.”

Arron grunted at that, filing away the information for later, but not in the mood for in-game machinations.

Wind blew through the trees in the forest beyond the cave, their movement a stark contrast to the ruins in the distance. Focusing on the peaceful view, he fought down his frustrations.

Thankfully the Valkyrie seemed content to leave him with his thoughts.

“So… I got myself killed again,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“You were slain in battle, hero. Though you would certainly have fought valiantly had you made it to the actual battle.”

Arron looked over his shoulder at the Valkyrie, searching for a hint of mockery in her tone. Knowing Brynhild, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe it wasn’t there.

The Valkyrie smiled, unconcerned and unapologetic.

Huffing, he got to his feet and started through the forest, trying to retrace his steps to where he’d left the party. Something about that attempt must have been doomed to fail. He didn’t land a single hit before being killed. Hell, he hadn’t even touched the ground.

Did the rest of the party do better?

No one else had shown up at respawn, so clearly they defeated the beasts without losses. The group didn’t even need him. Embarrassment resurged at just how bad he must have been and shame at letting them down followed on its heels.

The group had done so much for him recently. Sure, they had something to get out of it too and were hoping he could help them get to the “end game content.” But they’d gone above and beyond even that, and truly welcomed him into their party.

Even the Bard was helpful on occasion.

He would have to apologize. Ask what he missed when he found the group and take their every critique without complaint. He would do better.

Determined, he picked up the pace.

A mind-numbing length of huffing and puffing later, Arron finally emerged on the clearing to find they were still there.

Casually sitting around, each passing the time in their own way.

Sonya was reading something on her interface. Iris was sharpening her daggers. Torbin was tending to a damaged tree nearby. Mercutio had a little notebook out and seemed to be… writing something? Arron eased closer.

“He leaped through the air, roaring with a sense of duty,

Emboldened as our safety’s steward.

His gleaming muscles taught with menace, a thing of beauty,

To be impaled, thoroughly skewered.”

Wait… Was Mercutio writing a funny poem about how Arron died? No. The Bard wasn’t that tactless.

“I liked the verse with shish-ka-bob more,” Torbin said.

And Torbin too? The dwarf knew better!

“Ah… “would never wish the sod / to become a shish-ka-bob.” It was one of my finer lines,” Mercutio said wistfully.

Arron’s teeth hurt from how hard he was grinding them, and heat burned in his cheeks. They were laughing at him. Actually laughing at him. For dying. And here he’d been drowning in guilt thinking he’d let them down! It was too much.

“Seriously?” he growled, bursting into the clearing. “You’re writing a poem about me dying? What in the actual fuck?”

“Welcome back, oh noble—”

“Oh, shut it, Merc,” Arron snapped, turning his attention back to the group. “Seriously, why are you all still here? Did you even attack the dinosaur? You just what, left me to die?”

“Well, not exactly—” Mercutio began again, standing.

“Shut up, Merc!” Arron said, his volume steadily increasing, now in the full grips of his anger. “I know things are a bit loosey-goosey here with the whole respawn and Pain Threshold thing, but that is seriously fucked up!” He turned on Torbin, pointing an accusing finger. “You talked about how you’re having trouble building out your team. Well, I can believe it if this is how you treat people! Am I expendable? Am I not cool enough for your little club? Am I too much a filthy casual to be taken seriously?” he yelled, throwing that last part at Iris.

“Certainly not cool now. You’re running a little hot at the moment,” Mercutio said.

Arron rounded on the Bard, rage in his eyes and vision starting to take on the familiar red tinge. He took a menacing step forward.

“And you! You obnoxious, annoying little twit. Did you not hear me tell you to shut your mouth?”

“That’s enough,” Torbin said, stepping between Arron and Mercutio.

“Do your ears not work, you fucking miserable prick? Is that what you do? Make fun of people all day? Like you’re so damn smart. This how you get your kicks?”

“Arron, stop,” Torbin said, louder this time.

“You’re pathetic. Useless. A waste of fucking space.”

“I said enough!” Torbin yelled, shoving Arron hard enough that he flew bodily through the air and crashed into a tree.

Silence descended on the clearing. Not even the surrounding forest made a sound as tension hung in the air.

Torbin stalked over to Arron, getting close enough for him to smell the berry scent of the dwarf’s breath.

“I am only going to go over this one time, Arron,” Torbin growled in a low, dangerous tone. “Don’t you ever, ever talk to anyone in this group that way again. I don’t care if your Class has an anger mod. I don’t care if you can help us advance. I don’t care if you are the fucking founder of this damn game. I vouched for you here. So. Do. Not. None of us deserve that kind of treatment and that includes her.”

Torbin held Arron’s gaze for several moments, refusing to blink or turn away. “Do you understand?”

Arron nodded.

Torbin held his gaze a few more seconds before visibly relaxing.

“Her?” Arron asked quietly.

Torbin winced, looking over to Mercutio apologetically.

Mercutio’s head was held high, but for once, he was no longer smiling. “My name is Helen, Arron.”

Arron gawked, trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

Torbin coughed, interrupting his thoughts. “Now, if you had taken even a moment to talk to the group, rather than burst out shouting accusations, we could have told you that dying here was entirely your fault.”

“My fault?” Arron shouted, sitting forward, the flush returning to his face.

“Yes. Your fault,” Torbin said more forcefully, shoving Arron back down. “None of us even bothered to follow you after you jumped into the fray like some sort of suicidal moron. You need to understand you’re part of a team now. A team. Meaning we work together. This isn’t ‘Arron runs in and everyone else tries to keep him alive.’ You’re a piece of the plan, not the center of it. It just so happens our group has beaten this dungeon many times, without you. We know how to kill those beasts. We chose to come here with you because it’s set up perfectly both for your unique abilities and to help us work with each other. Get it?”

Arron blinked as he processed Torbin’s words.

“You knew I was gonna die as soon as I jumped, didn’t you?”

Torbin nodded.

“I take it someone else has been skewered before?”

Iris raised her hand, waving. “First thing I tried.”

“And you were waiting for me to get back to try again after a rookie mistake.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say rookie,” Torbin corrected. “Rookies at least know not to run into a fight without their team.”

Arron snorted. He turned away from their stares, embarrassed all over again. He’d jumped to conclusions, overreacted, and wrongfully accused them. A douchebag trifecta.

“Alright, everyone,” Torbin said, “show’s over. Gather your gear. We move on in five minutes. I’m gonna go make sure our shouting hasn’t scared away the mob.”

Everyone began dusting off their clothes, doing a few stretches and jumping jacks, anything really to not look at Arron. The tension hadn’t left with the dwarf’s declaration.

Swallowing his pride, Arron jogged over to Torbin. “Hey, do you mind if I scout with you?”

Torbin gave him an odd look before nodding and mumbling to himself, “If we haven’t scared ’em off yet, his loud ass isn’t going to now.”

They set off towards the overhang, crouched low and trying to be quiet.

After the third branch snapped under Arron’s clogging feet, Torbin stopped and offered to carry him. Arron tried to protest, but the hard glare from the dwarf made it clear he wasn’t joking or taking no for an answer.

Feeling silly, Arron let Torbin throw him over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes, certain he was going to struggle, especially with their size difference. Torbin didn’t even breathe hard, reminding Arron yet again that not everything was as it appeared in Interius. Though the size difference did mean his head hung right at ass level. Not something he particularly appreciated.

With Arron playing the fainted damsel, they made it to the overhang without so much as another whisper.

Looking down on the stegosaurus pair, Torbin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. They didn’t run off. We gotta get that red’s tail to move on to the next section of the dungeon. It’s a pain in the ass to track them again if they flee.”

“We need the tail?” Arron asked confused.

“Aye. We head to those ruins next, but to get in through the giant door you have to have three keys. Spike from that beastie’s tail is one of ’em.”

Oh. They had to do certain things in order. Good to know.

“What happens then?” Arron asked.

“We deal with the ruins and the locals. Don’t worry about that now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Arron nodded, going silent for several moments as he suppressed his pride.

“Hey, Torb, I’m sorry, man—”

“Don’t need to apologize to me,” Torbin said, emphasizing the last word to make it clear who deserved Arron’s apology.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I didn’t know, man. I mean, she is playing a guy. Had I known she was a… well, she—I wouldn’t have said those things.”

Torbin pegged Arron with a truly amazed expression.

“You, Arron, are an idiot, aren’t you?” the dwarf asked seriously.

“W… what?” Arron stuttered.

Torbin took on an element of that fierceness Arron had seen earlier, shifting silently closer and keeping his voice down.

“Listen here, you chauvinistic man-ass. You shouldn’t talk to anybody, regardless of gender, the way you spoke to Helen. Who, speaking of, has the right to play this game in whatever way she damn well pleases. She, in real-life, is stronger than you and I combined, while somehow managing to be one of the kindest individuals I’ve ever known.”

Arron was taken aback by Torbin’s sudden flip in intensity, literally rocking back on his heels as the dwarf closed in.

“You don’t get to decide for someone else how they play this game. Get it? Everyone who plays as much as we do, plays it for a reason. Everyone. I don’t know why you’re here, and shit like this makes me not sure I really want to know, but I’d wager it’s something more than just an evening activity after a few beers. Honestly, why you’re here doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that is another person back there. A person. A person who you told was useless, a waste of space, pathetic.”

Arron hung his head, shame settling onto his shoulders like the weight of the world. Of how he acted and his blindness. He’d been embarrassed before, even recalcitrant. But something about the way Torbin spoke made him understand something that, perhaps, he hadn’t quite been ready to accept.

The people in this game were other people with lives and histories, motivations and issues. He’d been so focused on getting to Bella, on saving his wife, he forgot, or perhaps ignored, that the people along the way weren’t here for that particular sacrifice.

“I want to be sure this is absolutely clear,” Torbin continued. “If you have an outburst at one of us like that again, you will no longer be welcome in this party.”

Torbin let the moment stretch uncomfortably long before raising an eyebrow, indicating he was awaiting a response.

Arron nodded his understanding, feeling a scratch in his throat, likely from the adrenaline of the confrontation. Definitely from the adrenaline.

“I’ll… I’ll try to be better,” he whispered.

“Good,” Torbin replied, putting an end to the conversation. “Now, let’s get back to the group, let ’em know the targets are still here.”

They stretched out a few cramped muscles, and after a pointed look and a forlorn sigh, Arron let Torbin throw him over his shoulder again.

“By the way,” Torbin said, “I’m a girl too. My name is Toshiko.”

Arron couldn’t see the dwarf’s face, so he missed the knowing smile as he tried to deal with that revelation.