Book 8, Chapters 28 and 29. Book 8 release dates. (Patreon)

Hey all! I'm about to head to Lucca, Italy for a few days to hang out with the awesome Italian publisher of DCC, but I thought I'd drop a few more chapters. We are chuggin'.

Here's a post I just made on Reddit:

So a bit of an update on my last enthusiastic post about the release dates of book 8. I had said simultaneous, which caused a minor case of "Yo, Matt, STFU, we didn't confirm nothing yet. Smack" amongst my friends at Penguin Random House and Audible. I'm pretty sure Shawn over at the Signed Page/Grim Oak Press actually started crying. So let's rephrase all this.

The ebook will release on 5/12/26, like originally announced.

Audible’s audiobook will pub 5/26/26 and will be available for pre-order starting next week.

Ace’s hardcover edition will be published 6/2/26, available everywhere books are sold, and will be available for pre-order starting next week.

Additionally, there will be a limited number of trade paperback copies with the Luciano Fleitas cover only available directly from Grim Oak Press, also pubbing 6/2/26. Sign up for their newsletter at www.grimoakpress.com to learn when and how to pre-order. If you ever bought anything from the Signed Page, they're the same, amazing people. They're doing me a huge favor by allowing me to continue to offer the same paperbacks you've been collecting, so please give them love.

ANYWAY. Onto the chapters:

Chapter 28

“Wait, what?” Botis asked, his demeanor changing once again.

“It’s true,” Donut said. “They just told us in our messages. They said they’ve been trying to tell you all about it because you control the tunnels or whatever they’re called, but you’ve been leaving them on read.”

The line of goats all started to make a braying noise. All the spotlights turned on at once, showing the caprids descending into panic. Across from me, the door back to the green room opened, and Lexis stepped into the studio, eyes huge.

“The Epicure,” one of the goats said. “We shall manifest the Epicure.”

“The True Judgment,” another said. “She has fulfilled her bargain.”

“Stampede,” another shouted. “The great stampede comes.”

“The beautiful place,” said yet another, followed by a screaming bleat.    

Prime Minister Victory: Carl. That was reckless, even for you.

Carl: Please. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you asked me.

Orren: You’re not wrong. We knew it was a possibility. We had no other choice.

Carl: If the AI didn’t want this getting out now, he wouldn’t have allowed it. If I didn’t say it, he would’ve. And based on the way these nutjobs are acting, it looks like you haven’t been trying too hard to speak with them. They clearly didn’t know.  

Prime Minister Victory: You don’t understand anything, Carl.

Carl: I understand that you’re just as in the dark as I am. The only difference is I’m not pretending like I know what is happening.

One of the goats, Bathin with the jowly face, just started screaming. This wasn’t like a Prepotente scream, but a human-like wail, and I couldn’t tell if it was joyful or panicked. It seemed like both. Two of the goats had fallen right off their chairs and were on their backs, stiff as a board, arms and legs raised in the air, almost like they were dead.

Donut: YOU KNOW WHAT THIS REMINDS ME OF? THOSE CITY ELVES ON THE THIRD FLOOR WHEN THEY WERE LOOKING AT MY BUTT.

Carl: I was just thinking the same thing. They weren’t looking at your butt. It was your Oak Fell bracelet.

Donut: THE MIDNIGHT EPICURE. ISN’T THAT THE GOD PREPOTENTE WORSHIPS?

Carl: Yes. And I have his patch on my jacket.

Donut: AND ARE THEY EXCITED BECAUSE THEY THINK THE GOD IS REAL NOW? I’M SO CONFUSED AS TO WHAT’S HAPPENING.

Carl: Yeah...I have no clue.

We just sat there as the goats, including Botis the host, continued to slide into panic. Oddly, I’d seen this before, but with real goats. When one freaked out, they all did. It would escalate and escalate until it hit a head, and they’d scatter.       

But then I noticed one of the goats was not reacting. This was a female, harbinger-style goat still sitting on her chair, glaring at me. This was the one who’d cleared her throat when Bathin was explaining the Justice Light trap to me.

“It’s my turn to judge you,” she said once we met eyes.

Lexis: Carl, Donut, just be aware that we are still live.

Zev: What the heck is going on? I was too busy to watch, and now the entire board is lit up. Carl, what did you do?

Donut: THIS WASN’T CARL’S FAULT. NOT THIS TIME.

Lexis: It’s a little bit his fault.

Donut: WELL, IT’S ALWAYS A LITTLE BIT HIS FAULT.

I examined the goat glaring at me. This one was pretty evil looking. Honestly, I couldn’t tell these things apart, though this one wore a strangely ornate belt around her waist, cinching her robes.

This is Gamori. She was the lead engineer of the Plenty Tunnel Project and is the current Matriarch of the Plenty. In other words, she’s the boss. She looks mad. Probably because she just got caught out not relaying vital information to the rest of her herd.

All around us, the chaos continued to unfold as the other goats devolved into full-blown panic. Suddenly, as one, they all bolted to the left, stampeding out of the room and through the wall, their holos flickering as they disappeared. Botis ran right through us. And it wasn’t just the ones who’d been sitting in a circle, but multiple other goats who’d been invisible until just that moment. These were techs and assistants, all scattering away, leaving the only caprids in the room Gamori and the two fainted goats.

The goat spoke after a moment. Her strange eyes bored into mine.

“You are rash. You are impulsive. You are loud. You make sudden movements. You are a troublemaker. You startle us, and you attract attention. When we sponsored you, it was at the behest of our partner. I worried against it, but we thought perhaps it was for the best. We believe we are on the correct path, but I have my doubts. I was waiting to respond to this new predator in the forest, to study its movements and its implications. Your declaration has removed the ability for thoughtful reaction. You have invoked a stampede, and we will not stop running until we are safe.”  

“None of those are questions,” I said.   

“No, they are not. This is judgment. I do not ask a question of you. I do not consider you an enemy. But you are too dangerous to allow anywhere near the herd.”

“Yeah?” I said. “Why are you even here if you didn’t want this to come up?”

The goat jumped to her feet.

“How dare you ask questions of me when you weren’t invited! How. Dare. You?”

“Well, that was a question, so I’ll ask again. Clearly you guys aren’t normally on this show. So why are you even here?”

She burst into tears.

“Now you’ve done it,” Donut muttered.

The goat started making loud, snot-filled gasps as she went from stoic leader into a blubbering mess. I hadn’t realized this sort of reaction was a caprid-specific thing and not just a Prepotente thing.

She blubbered, literally shaking as she talked.

“We wanted to do something special for you because you’re doing such a good job and you’re best friends with our champion. And the council really wanted to meet Princess Donut because she’s so wonderful and beautiful and sassy. The kids all love you both. I’ve been too scared to tell everyone about what’s happening because I just knew they’d take it as a sign that the end times are here. We can’t startle my people with information like that, or they react. I was going to go slow. I didn’t think.” She started smacking herself in the head with her hand. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

“Err,” I said.

 One of the two fainted goats suddenly jumped to his feet, looked about the room, let out a yelp, and promptly fainted again, arms and legs once again going stiff.  

I caught eyes with Lexis who was standing there, mouth agape. The goat continued to smack herself. Lexis mouthed “What the fuck?” at me.

“Okay” I said after a minute. “Stop. Just stop. Listen, I...”

Crack!

“Mother,” a new voice said.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, jumping out of my chair. I tried to step away, and I stumbled because of the damn suit.  

Harbinger. The giant goat liaison had teleported into the room right behind me. He was really here, standing right behind us. I could smell the heavy, animal musk of his presence. The giant caprid had an enormous pulse rifle, but he had it pointed away. He wasn’t looking at me, but at Gamori, who stopped hitting herself and stared up at the newcomer.

Donut yowled in surprise and jumped to my shoulder, her claws out, digging dangerously into me.

“I told you of my suspicions,” Harbinger rumbled. “I warned you what was going to happen, yet you did not listen. And now you did not prepare the herd for the truth.”  

“Did he just call her mother?” Donut whispered.

“You have been judged unworthy of the herd. You have been expelled,” Gamori hissed at Harbinger as she snottily wiped her nose and eyes on her own fur. “You know you can’t be here. You know you can’t speak to me.”  

“Yet I protect the herd, and you do not,” he said, his voice a deep, grumbly growl.

She pointed a finger at the goat. “You have no right. No right to even speak to me. Begone!”

I eyed the gun warily. I made a little hop backwards. We were in the production facility, not the dungeon. I only had the limited ability to respond. My tech shield would work, but I’d never seen that sort of pulse rifle before. It was huge. At this range, two or three shots would probably poke a hole right through me. I did another hop backwards.

The second fainting goat awakened, got to his feet and bolted from the room, screaming.

“I have sacrificed everything to protect the herd,” Harbinger barked. The bass of his voice rattled my teeth. “The moment I saw how many residuals were in the dungeon, the moment I learned how unstable the AI was, and how it favored this predator, I feared this exact thing would happen. I told you. I warned you. I warned you all. You didn’t respond. Nobody helped me. I have been alone in this. I am so lonely. But I have not forgotten my duty, mother. You asked me, once, why I didn’t exert myself at the end of our circles. Exertion is supposed to be an expression of joy and of comfort. Well, mother, I will exert myself now. I will protect the herd. I will protect the universe. I will do what should have been done from the very start.”

He turned to look at me and raised the gun.

And that’s when, finally, the AI intervened.

Harbinger exploded.

More accurately, everything on the inside of his goat body was suddenly on the outside of his goat body.

There was a sucking, sludgy sound, not loud like one would expect. More like the sound of a stuck boot being yanked out of mud. Harbinger sprayed outward, the consistency of his innards like warm jam being sprayed out of a particularly enthusiastic showerhead.

The gun clattered to the floor, splotching into the thick gore.

Nobody moved or said a thing for several moments.  

Donut, Lexis, and I were just covered in dead goat.  

The entire room was covered with the gore. It plopped and dripped from the ceiling in thick, hairy clumps. Donut started hacking from my shoulder.  

The holo of Gamori lowered her head. “All stampedes have their casualties,” she said sadly before she disappeared with a blink.  

Zev: Holy fucking shit. Did that really just happen? Is everyone okay?

From my shoulder, Donut continued to hack.

I met eyes with Lexis, who’d been on the other side of Harbinger. Her tablet was on the floor, and she had something in her hand. A gun. She hadn’t fired it. She returned it to a hidden holster on her back. She slowly reached down and picked up the dropped computer. She shook it a few times, gore and blood spraying off. Then she used her sleeve to clean the screen.

She’d gotten covered worse than we had. She looked as she’d been dipped in a river of gore. She pressed a button.

Lexis looked up at us, smiling grimly, her teeth shockingly white against the carnage.

“The good news is,” she said as liquified innards dripped from her thin face, “is that the viewer ratings on this episode are the highest they’ve ever been.”

Chapter 29

All racers proceed to the starting line. Heat three starts in five minutes.

“Yeah, bitch. Yeah, bitch. I’m ready. Let’s do this!” Gluteus Max shouted from the driver’s seat.

He was bouncing up and down, bellowing and revving the engine as he clapped his hands. He slammed the horn.

“Make way for the big shot! Bawwwwk!”

“Can you not,” I said.

We’d picked the short, hairy stripper to drive this race because the kangaroo suit made it difficult for me to reach the pedals properly. Of all the strippers, he’d been the best at Mario Kart.

I could still taste the Harbinger guts in my mouth. I’d been expecting Orren or Zev or even the AI to say something more, but we’d just teleported back to the garage, still covered in gore. We hadn’t heard anything else about the interview.

It seemed so stupid, us having to still do this bullshit while all that craziness happened outside the dungeon. I wondered if the gods leaking would cause people to stop watching and focus more on what was happening out there, but based on my stats, our views hadn’t let up.

I looked down at my furry, kangaroo claws and sighed. At least the suit was clean-ish again.

All the occupants of the garage had just stared at us when we appeared, nobody asking what had happened. Mongo came up to me, sniffed, squeaked, and started furiously licking my leg before Donut shooed him away.

Inside the saferoom, a group was still crowded around the screen. It was Dr. Bones, Tipid, a group of Sluggalos, and Jamal playing. Jamal had a Wii wheel in his mouth, and he had to move to the back of the room to fit. He was using his legs to stabilize himself as he rocked back and forth. He wasn’t doing too well. Neither were the slugs.  

They’d switched to a game I didn’t recognize until I saw one of the characters was from Sonic. I hadn’t even known there was a racing game with Sega characters.

Samantha was there, apparently trying to coach the large shark on the use of the wheel controller with little success. He whimpered has he rocked back and forth. Samantha looked up at us when we entered.

“Ooooh, someone had a party. Was it fun?”  

Neither of us answered as we moved to the showers. We cleaned all the gore off, and we returned to the truck. We still had a lot of work to do.

Now, several hours later, it was time to race. I examined Gluteus Max as he continued to vibrate with enthusiasm from the driver’s seat.

The hairy man had removed his gauntlets. He still wore his usual outfit, which was nothing except a pair of speedos, but he now wore a hockey helmet that he’d borrowed from the pile of discarded gear. The hat had a Cat-Like Reflexes enchantment. We didn’t need to drain it for Donut’s tiara as she already had the skill, but she did make him promise to give it to her when the race was over.    

It was him driving, Donut in the passenger seat—secured in her new “chair,” and me crouched down between the two. This position was difficult in the kangaroo suit. The two ghouls were lined up behind me in the back of the truck, both situated in their cages, their teeth chattering. I turned, making sure both still wore their belts.

Their job was going to be exceedingly dangerous. I was glad we’d secured undead for this part, but the odds that they were going to fall off the truck were pretty high. And if we lost them, we wouldn’t have time to gather them back up. So the belts were a necessity.  

I’d wanted to put a belt on Gluteus, too, but Donut absolutely refused to let me. I didn’t want to fight her on this one. Not for this race, at least. I could see her point as Gluteus was a Faction Wars veteran, and I trusted him not to wander off. Plus he was going to be driving, not hanging off the side of the truck.

Or, at least, I trusted Gluteus until I saw him acting like he was now. He was a good guy under normal circumstances, but he reminded me of those testosterone soaked morons who got themselves so worked up about random things all the time. Like the sort of guy who’d get into a fist fight at a sporting event with a fan of the opposing team.

Still, he was acting even crazier than usual.

“What’re you gonna do with that gun, you dragon bitch!” Gluteus shouted out the window at the APV next to us.

The draconian mercenary sitting atop the APV for One Fine Pig, which sat parked next to us at the starting line, looked down at Gluteus and said something I couldn’t hear. The dragon-faced mercenary stood on the roof of the large truck, manning what looked like a massive, heavy machine gun. I eyed the gun warily. The weapon did not glow with enchantment, but that didn’t mean the mercenary himself couldn’t imbue the bullets with something.

This was a new weapon. I knew they also had some sort of pulse cannon I couldn’t see. We needed to get away from them as quickly as possible.

Donut’s shield spell should protect against a standard, heavy gun. Still, we wanted to be safe as we could. We couldn’t add magical upgrades. We couldn’t remove the base materials before the race.

But there were loopholes. A lot of them. And thanks to Florin’s visit to the not-yet-open C&W&U store, we knew just how far we could push it.

Florin, in searching for the hidden war mages, had stumbled into the empty store. The front appeared to be an about-to-open restaurant that specialized in food upgrades for racers. The C&W stood for “Chicken and Waffles.”

The back of the store was also abandoned, but hanging on the walls were multiple instructional diagrams of DIY upgrades that would skirt the rules for both mechanical and biological mounts.   

None of the diagrams were particularly useful, but the ideas themselves had made me realize what could and couldn’t be done with our truck.

As Donut called it, we could “Mad Max-out” the vehicle. And while we couldn’t make any of the spikes or armor plating magical, we could add self-contained items that were in themselves magical. Or tech-based.

In the case of the food truck, we went into the massive pile of magical gear that had been left behind by those who’d taken deals. Mistress Tiatha had been cataloging it all. She was separating it all out. Weapons. Clothes. Armor. Rings.

And shields. We had lots and lots of shields.

We covered the exterior of the truck with them. Round shields. Kite-shaped shields. Square ones. While my fighting style never really lent itself to that sort of thing, literally thousands of crawlers carried them by the end. And most of these shields had built in enchantments that worked whether or not the item was equipped.

We wrapped the interior walls, plus the hood, with anti-piercing tech under armor that was meant to be worn, but could still be turned on and off. We even had some Kevlar-like sleeping bags the Dream soldiers had all carried.

And the best part was, most of this stuff was ridiculously light. It barely added any weight to the truck. It just made it look even more ridiculous.   

None of this would do shit against non-conventional weapons, like fire or clouds of acid or a million of the other things. And there were countless magical spells that could screw us. But it was better than nothing, and it would work against the guns some of our opponents were favoring.

Still, I didn’t want to risk it. We couldn’t attack each other just yet, but the surefire system still worked. I marked the draconian with two denial-of-service missiles and the gun itself with two more of the same. I’d fire them as soon as we were free.  

They weren’t our target for this one. I didn’t want to kill the vehicle, but I wanted to keep them from trying to kill us and hopefully slow them down enough that we didn’t have to worry about them.

Carl: I can’t see from here. Is the unicorn still driving the bush?

Chiyome: I can’t see them from here, either, but we did get a glance as we pulled up. It is difficult to tell who is driving that thing, but they do not have anyone else in the bush with them, so I am assuming it is the unicorn.

Donut: DOES YOUR KANGAROO SUIT SMELL AS BAD AS CARL’S SUIT?

Chiyome had also donned the joey suit during the last race, and she, too, was stuck for a few more hours.

Chiyome: It itches like you wouldn’t believe. And yes, it smells.

Carl: I’ll do three missiles for Dwight and one at Lucienne. Make sure you’re clear of them. You too, Free Love.

Chiyome: Understood.   

Jasha: We ain’t gonna be anywhere near the fucks.

I selected the four remaining missiles in my 8-pack launcher and programmed them.

By this point, all the teams would have shields. Direct attacks would likely do nothing. So we had to kill them in different ways. I just hoped these missiles worked as advertised. This was a Rosetta idea. It was a different recipe than what we had in the potion balls, but just as insidious.   

Race starts in five minutes. Starting blocks loading.

That was told in the regular voice of the AI.

“Starting blocks?” I asked.   

Dr. Metcalf beeped.

A new rule has been announced. Each team for this heat will be contained in a starting block shield that will provide invulnerability to your vehicle for the first ninety seconds of this race. This will not affect controls.

“Shit,” I said. “Dr. Metcalf, what sort of shield is it?”

How the fuck should I know? Have you upgraded me like I asked you to? I’d probably know if I was upgraded. But no. Instead you let them pick that chair for your cat. It’s almost like you don’t care about me at all.

“What?” I asked.

Nevermind. The answer is no. I don’t know.  

“Shit,” I said again. We were going to have to re-think the plan. Invulnerability was different than a shield. But after a moment, I realized this might actually be a good thing.

I started calculating how long the missiles would take to arc through the air. If I timed it properly, it’ll keep the other teams from firing on us.  

Chiyome: Do we need to alter our plans?

Carl: It’s okay. Let me worry about that. Just make sure we’re all ahead of them when the ninety seconds are up.

I’d talked the foxes and bugbears out of focusing on the Lady Dominators and on Team Sparkles for this race. The unicorn and rodent were a real wildcard, and because they’d finished first place last heat, who knew what sort of upgrades they’d gotten themselves.

We’d deliberately pulled up to our slot last in hopes that we could examine each of the teams to figure out what their upgrades were. So far the only changes I noticed was that team Free Love’s van sparkled with some sort of shield, there was a new gun position atop One Fine pig, and the dog for the Jugglers was now covered in armor. Whatever the unicorn team picked, it wasn’t obvious from the outside.     

The black asphalt road was straight and very wide. It had to be a hundred meters from side to side. It swept straight down like a ski ramp. On either side of the road was just lush, green grass as far as I could see. A red, alien sun crackled above. The temperature outside was nice and warm.

“My goodness,” Donut said, struggling to peer out the windshield. “I think I can see the finish line from here. The road really is steep.”

“Great observation, my precious princess,” her new chair said.

“Thank you, Dorata,” Donut replied.  

The original voice was that of a creepy dude, but Donut had insisted it change to a woman “with a Polish accent.” I had no idea why, and I didn’t want to ask.

At first glance, the new chair in the passenger side of the van was just a regular, bucket seat. You couldn’t tell there was anything different about it until Donut sat in it.

Apparently this was a real thing out in the universe. Rosetta said videos of these things were going viral right before she’d come to Earth.  

It was called a Smart Companion Royal Pet Throne. This was the Ultimate Diamond Pampered Pet Princess edition.

It was a pet chair designed for long road trips. It could be installed in cars, space ships, boats, and more. It could be used by regular people, and nothing would happen, but the moment the chair’s assigned “Princess” sat upon it, a small, fluffy, rectangular bed appeared. The chair adjusted like a gyro, and it would supposedly keep her safe in case of an accident.

But the chair did a lot more than that, too. It also monitored her vitals and offered her “relief” when she was stressed. We still didn’t know what that meant.

It also talked. The thing clearly wasn’t a real intelligence like Dr. Metcalf or a Mexx robot. It was more like the robot Donut toys. It seemed its main goal was to keep Donut happy at all costs. It did that by agreeing with everything she said and randomly complimenting her.

I suspected it would quickly wear thin, but for now, Donut was pretty excited about it, especially when she discovered it could feed her snacks on demand.

I had no idea why she named it Dorata. I did know that its very existence pissed off Dr. Metcalf.

“Your fur is quite luxurious today, princess,” the chair said. “Your enemies will quiver with jealousy.”       

Doctor Metcalf beeped.

Oh, do shut up.  

“See what I mean?” the chair replied. “The jealously runs deep on that one.”

You want to know what’s going to run deep? My virtual foot up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.

“Stop fighting,” Donut said. “The race is about to start!”

“Very diplomatic my princess,” Dorata said.

From behind, the two ghouls groaned.

Race starts in two minutes. Racers start your engines or prime your mounts.  

For this race, we were all lined up side-by-side with us on the end. To our immediate left was the large APV of team One Fine Pig. I couldn’t see any of the teams past them from my position in the back of the truck, but I knew we were in the order we’d placed in the last race. So it was Team Sparkles, then the Jugglers, then Team Free Love, then the Wild Hunt, then the Lady Dominators, then One Fine Pig, and us at the end.

I again looked at the road.

“We need to be quick, but we gotta be careful,” I said to Gluteus. “That’s gotta be a 30-degree angle. We go too fast, we’re gonna flip. And if we flip, we’re dead.”

“Yeah, we’ll flip. We’ll flip into victory,” he said. “Man, I wish Steve was still with us. He’d love this shit. He wasn’t a pussy. He’d want me to go even faster.”  

Even through the fur, I could see the veins on his arms bulging as he rocked back and forth.

Holy shit this one is worse than the last one. Where’d you find these idiots?

“Actually, I don’t think that is the finish line,” Donut said, distracted, leaning in. She was using her zoom ability. “It’s like a big, blue and yellow dome. But it’s on the road. It’s hard to tell at this angle.”

Gluteus turned toward me, and that’s when I noticed how red his eyes were.

Oh, fuck me.

“Gluteus, are you on something?”

He cackled and slammed the horn again. “Samantha found some outworlder uppers in that garbage pile from the snake guy. She said if one takes them before a race, one can taste time. It’s what she’s been taking to win at Mario Kart. And you know what? She’s right. That’s why I took two.” He leaned in closer. “The space between each individual second tastes like cotton candy mixed with the sweat dripping off the tits of a randy high elf priestess. It’s fucking delicious.” He then howled like a goddamned dog.

Shit, shit, shit. We were at the line. It was too late to kick him out. We didn’t have time to set up the Donut driving apparatus. I couldn’t drive like this.

“Donut,” I said, moving back. “Get your Laundry Day spell ready! We don’t have a goddamned choice. You have to get this suit off of me!”

“Carl, no! Mordecai said it could really hurt you, even kill you! Wait, do you feel that?”

The ground was rumbling.

Dr. Metcalf beeped.

Information is now available on the waves of mobs for this race.

We will be sharing the track with migrating Sugar Hermits who will be moving in the same direction as you. The initial wave is approaching from behind. Further waves may come from additional directions. All will be migrating toward the finish line.

The truck rocked as a wave of wailing, colorful, Samantha-sized creatures rushed past on the road. They started to tumble down the road, rolling and clicking, and screaming. There were literally thousands of them. Tens of thousands.

“What the heck are those things?” Donut asked. “They’re like Imani heads! Why are they screaming?”

They were skulls. Dozens of types, all painted in colorful, festive colors, like Day of the Dead sugar skulls.  

Twenty seconds! Racers be ready!

“Fuck yeah!” Gluteus shouted, revving the engine. “Let’s do this!”

One of the skull things pinged off the roof of the truck and rolled down the windshield. This one was white with orange highlights. It was the skull of a goblin. The teeth were painted in alternating colors. A dozen little, purple tentacles reached out from the interior of the skull, leaving a slime trail. The slime hovered a good inch off the windshield. The invulnerability shield had already activated.

Each tentacle had a little barb on the end. From next to us, the Draconian was shouting, but it seemed he, too, was protected by the invulnerability. Still, one of the sugar skulls had attached itself to his head. This was a bigger skull, like that of an ogre. The tentacles were wrapped around the head of the Draconian, giving him a bizarre appearance. It appeared the creature was trying to rip the mercenary’s head off, but it gave up after a second and rolled away.

Despite being protected, the draconian started shouting in panic. He went to his hands and knees and started banging on the roof of the APV to be let inside.

“Holy shit,” I said as I examined one of the skulls.  

Female Sugar Hermit. Level 11.

These horrific little terrors feed off of two things. Brains and bones. And they are experts at extracting both from soft bodies.

They wear skulls like a snail wears a shell. They are agile, and they are terrifyingly fast.

Still, I thought they were kinda boring looking, so I gussied them up a bit. Yeah, yeah, cultural appropriation, this and that. Suck it. They look freakin’ badass!

The sugar hermits you see today are all female, and they are migrating. They’re migrating toward the kaiju skull that blocks the finish line. Why? Because I fucking said so. They’ll lay their eggs in it or some shit. It doesn’t matter. I just needed an anchor point so they all did what I wanted. All that matters is that there’s going to be a lot of these crunchy little fuckers on your route today. Hopefully they won’t get in your way. Or worse, they get their little tentacles wrapped around that prime real estate y’all are carrying around on your shoulders.          

The good news is this race is only twenty minutes long.

“Yeeeaaa fucking haw!” Gluteus shouted as the light turned green.


~~~~~~

Thank you all!