Dungeon of Niflheim

Booooooommmm!

Findlay’s axe slash was still ongoing, but it now landed on an open part of the winter highlands room, creating a massive crack in the floor that expanded several metres. Findlay frowned, knowing that something was wrong. The shifting of location was so quick and smooth that he didn’t even notice that he changed locations but the response from his axe wasn’t one he was expecting. There was no feeling of bone and flesh or the experience of being splattered by his victim’s blood and.... is this snow? Findlay looked around and finally realised where he was, his soldiers could be seen dotted around him also with confused looks on their faces, completely in the dark about what happened.

Suddenly without warning he roared in frustration while looking upwards “ahhhhhhhhhhh! I was so close! Did it have to happen at that exact moment!” He was letting out his grievances towards Dark who he couldn’t see, knowing that only the dark God could pull off something like this.

All he needed was another second and he would have been able to cleave his opponent in twain in a very graphic way. Allowing the watching dungeon cores to be influenced by his strength, advertising the greatness of his master but no he was suddenly teleported right at the worst possible time, only able to explode some snow. He felt as though he punched a cotton wall, feeling absolutely no rebounding effect from his strike, it was infuriating to say the least. but with his intelligence he wasn’t as confused as his soldiers, understanding what must have happened.

As though to confirm his thoughts he suddenly received a communication from Frost.

“Findlay you’re alright, that’s good, I was worried for a while....why didn’t you respond to my calls?” Frost let out a sigh of relief once Findlay returned to his dungeon, but quickly started to interrogate his commander.

“You had me worried for the past half hour, without any contact explain yourself.” He sounded like an annoyed father who’s child had broken curfew and not returned home until very late in the night. Findlay’s anger and frustration instantly evaporated, and he suddenly felt rather guilty. Of course, he couldn’t really communicate with Frost at first due to his head being clouded with pain and anger. Reporting to Frost didn’t even occur to him at that point but he spend close to 15 minutes climbing up the dark chute all without any interruptions, plenty of time to give a report and alleviate his master’s worries. But no, he was too focused on returning to the battlefield, not thinking about Frost’s concerns.

“Sorry master, I got a little side tracked and self-absorbed in the battle, I’ve failed as your commander.” He bowed his head toward the dungeon menu screen, fully recognising his faults. Only now did he realise that his men were severely diminished from the time he was tossed down that chute. Because of his absence a great many of his comrades died, he couldn’t help but feel pained and responsible. He didn’t even get to have his revenge by killing the hob goblin commander.

.....

Frost saw the guilt in his monster’s eyes as well as the frustration at not being able to unleash his pent up anger. He sighed before smiling gently. “That’s alright, you did a good job. You came back in one...well mostly one piece and a decent number of the troops survived.” Frost examined the numbers and felt pleased. “The frost troll you brought with you did quite a good job maintaining morale and leading in your absence, it may be a good idea to have it train under you directly in case such situations happen in the future.” Frost nodded his head, greatly endorsing this suggestion.

Findlay turned to face the frost troll who was currently acting very much like a leader. Checking up on the soldiers, counting who survived and calming down those that were still confused.

“As you wish Master, it seems I’ve truly overlooked the talents of my own men.” Findlay agreed, also noting down the actions of the couple frost dwarves that took command of the other side. He’d put more time into training his men into capable independent leaders that don’t need his supervision. They needed to learn from such mistakes, not repeat them.

“...Did we win then master?” Of course, Findlay knew the answer, but he wanted to hear from his master’s mouth.

Frost smiled widely in response, his faced suffused with pride and joy. “Yes Findlay, we won, this dungeon war is over, and we are the victors.”

A minute ago in Frost’s dungeon, roughly around the same time Findlay returned to the battlefield in Gobuske’s underground city, the duel between his frost troll and Lagombi and the two hob goblin commanders was coming to a close. The blood and injuries on the two hob goblins had finally become too much.

“Squealch ahhhhhhhhh!” One of the hob goblin commanders’ had his body stop responding to his signals. His machete wielding arm refused to raise itself in defence, allowing for the frost troll’s axes to sink right into its undefended chest. This was the final blow, it screamed in pain but powerlessly fell back, his legs and knees buckled, his entire body collapsing. It had long reached its limit and two axes in its chest finally broke the camel’s back bringing an end to this glorious and honourable duel. The frost troll smiled in victory, looking at the fading hob goblin commander in the eyes as a sign of respect, waiting for the moment it finally passes to remove its weapons.

In the other side room- though with a lot less respect and art form- the Lagombi had also pushed its opponent to the very edge. Unable to withstand the creatures great strength and powerful mass, the hob goblin commander was lifted by the things jaws into the air before.

Crunch!

The Lagombi slammed its jaws shut, snapping the hob goblin commander’s spine, and taking a severe chunk out of it. The two hob goblin commanders died a few seconds later bringing the war to a close. All of Gobuske’s offence forces were annihilated meaning this was Frost’s victory.

Before he and his monsters could even celebrate, Dark made his move. His goals had been met and then some, no need to waste anymore lives.

“That’s the end, Stop!” With a single flick of his hand Dark teleported all of Frost’s remaining monsters back to his dungeon, thus saving the life of Gobuske’s last hob goblin commander, who at this point still had his eyes closed as he waited for death, unaware that he’d been saved.

Dark wiped off a bit of sweat, even for him that was cutting it close, Findlay’s axe was nanometres away from the hob goblin commander’s head but as usual his timing was impeccable. He secretly gave himself a thumbs up for such a good job before prepping himself for the next stage. Now that the dungeon war was over, he needed to congratulate the victor and hand out the various rewards but first his kids probably needed a few minutes to get their affairs in order. He’d teleport them and their guardians back to the gathering afterwards. Meanwhile he also needed to handle the betting pool that he generated. His gaze drifted over to his eldest daughter, Aqua who at this point had a goofy smile on her face as she thumped her fist against Yami’s shoulders. She made quite the killing with her bet on Frost, likely putting him the red as the booky.

Gobuske however was although disappointed about his loss was also relieved, his hob goblin commander and remaining defence force was spared the wrath of Findlay, and he gave his elder brother a good run for his money. He was satisfied with his performance and proud of his monsters, accepting this loss with dignity.

Bala however was raring to go with his mocking and insults, just trying to work out which to start with. With Gobuske’s loss he could use it as an excuse to either separate himself from Gobuske or punish him in the name of education. There were many ways he could harm Gobuske without directly abusing him, he couldn’t give Dark any substantial reason to eliminate him. He wasn’t arrogant enough to go directly against one of the creation Gods after all.

Gobuske quickly contacted his hob goblin commander who was still frozen in place, quickly giving him the good news, that he was still alive. His soldiers as well as the now eyes open hob goblin commander were not in a good mood. They had failed their king, likely causing him to be mocked by his siblings as a loser. They all hung their heads low and remained silent and depressed causing Gobuske to sigh but he couldn’t blame them. No matter what he said they would still be sad as was he, how could he not feel frustrated about the loss, so he kept quiet. Not praising or admonishing them...at least for now.