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Beethro's Last Job (By Pilchard VIII) (Non-Canon)

Late July Unofficial Competition Entry – Beethro’s Last Job

Some people in The Eighth think that it is customary for a dungeon exterminator to smite vermin until the day they die. Others feel that they can retire whenever the time suits them. For Beethro, well, he thought that he would never retire, that he could roam the dungeons as if he were The ‘Neather. How mistaken he was. You see, everyone in life has to have a final job, this is his.

Beethro was in a real hurry. He was meant to have left for Parnip in Ephelna, yet he was still in Dugandy, fifteen minutes behind schedule. He was rushing around, trying to find his trusted Really Big Sword, yet it was nowhere in sight.
“Where in The Eighth is my sword? It has to be around here somewhere,” Beethro remarked as he scurried about his home trying to find it. After a while, Beethro came to a conclusion. “This is pointless. Perhaps one of the guards at Parnip can lend me a sword.” Although Beethro hated to admit it, he had lost his sword. So he decided not to waste any more time and go. Or rather he would have done if he didn’t see Halph holding a rather large and familiar object. It looked like his sword! That little sneak must have taken it from his room when he had his back turned. He swore he would get that boy one day.
“Halph, you little snotbag!” Beethro yelled rather furiously, “Gimme back my gobbin’ sword!”
“Aww, but Unka Beethro, we were playing Smiters and Dungeons and mum took my toy sword off me when I accidentally smashed one of her vases with it,” Halph whined. “I think she worries too much. Don’t you Unka Beethro?”
“No I don’t think she worries too much. You should watch where you put those things. You get your brother with it and he’ll be at the Roasted Roach Grill cooking on an open spit.”
“Whatever. You’re weird. Take your sword. We’re bored anyway,” Halph said as he and his brother went off to their room. Beethro did feel a little a little guilty about upsetting his nephews, but the feeling soon passed, for he could now go to Parnip.

After a long hike up to Parnip, through the Aurifex mountain range, Beethro finally arrived, fifteen minutes late. He had finally reached his location, Somnion Palace. It wasn’t a large palace at all, in fact, it was hardly any bigger than Beethro’s house. However, it’s dungeons were famous in the area for being notoriously brutal, regardless of it being a mere five levels deep. Beethro grasped his sword and told himself that this should be no problem for a delver of his expertise. He hastily approached the front gate, where a guard was waiting for him.
“Where have you been? You’re fifteen minutes late!” The guard said quite angrily. He was clearly enraged to have been left waiting an extra quarter of an hour. Beethro was about to explain why he was late, but he was rudely interrupted by the guard. “No time for talking. Come, come, we must direct you to the dungeon. Try to keep up. We don’t want to be another fifteen minutes late.” Beethro already started having images in his mind of slicing the guard up.

After a short walk, they finally approached a large metal door. It was locked with all manner of instruments. The guard hastily unlocked the door, and encouraged Beethro to step in. He, of course, having gone through this moment many times before, stepped in without worry. He drew his sword, and he said to himself, “Let’s get smiting.”

Beethro looked to his immediate left, and saw a standard blue door. This obviously led to the next floor. For now, Beethro followed the dimly lit passage in front of him. It was a very old dungeon, hardly entered anymore; in fact, the floor was still back in the old Slime style, as originally laid out by the DAA. In the passages ahead, there lay all kinds of tricks and traps, including trapdoor mazes, tar mazes, serpent battles, roach hoards, and all manner of brutal and deadly rooms, just waiting to lure an amateur delver to his death. Fortunately, Beethro was no amateur. He cleared every room with optimum efficiency, of only the kind that a smitemaster of his calibre could perform. He finally reached the last room, and cleared it out. He backtracked towards that blue door. He walked through it and the staircase was just in front of him. So he took a relaxing stroll towards the stairs. The floor had left him exhausted. He had just reached halfway towards the staircase, when without warning…

He was attacked! He fell forward and hit the ground with an almighty thud. His sword flung out of his reach. He turned to see what it was, but there was nothing there, yet he was still being eaten at. He knew what that meant, spiders. The only thing he hadn’t come across on this floor. So he leapt forwards to grab his sword, but at a cost. The spider was still attacking, and it took a large chunk out of his left leg. Beethro howled in pain, grabbed his sword, and exterminated the spider. He examined the damage, and at the sight of the blood and gore, he fainted.

When he awoke, he was out of the dungeon. He was back in Somnion Palace. When he pulled himself up, he saw the guard that escorted him into the dungeon. He wanted to say something, but the guard silenced him.
“It’s okay. We found you unconscious and brought you back up here. You’re safe now, but you won’t be able to clear any more dungeons.”
“But wait! What about your dungeon?” Beethro said as he leaned for his sword. The guard removed his sword from his reach.
“Don’t worry, we got another guy to clear the dungeon. What was his name? Oh, it was something like Danny, Donny Denny, Denfry. Yeah. Denfry.”
“From Fulce?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“…Gob it.”

The End