In ancient times, dungeon portals would remain stationary, but far too often, adventurers would take over the portals and decide who could enter the dungeon. Dungeons disliked this for multiple reasons. Consequently, dungeon portals now jump to random locations. If nobody enters at the new location, the dungeon jumps again after spitting monsters into that world. If an adventurer party enters, the portal remains until the party exits or dies.

  Excerpt from scholar Ze Cante's treatise on the dungeon universe.

  In front of Jeremy stood the biggest clown he'd ever seen. Above the clown was a brightly lit red sign in another language he could somehow read.

  WELCOME TO THE FUN HOUSE

  The huge room was filled with carnival paraphernalia, some recognizable, some completely alien. A spinning target board with throwing knives poking out of it sat off to one side, a guillotine leaned against an empty wire cage with a skeleton of an unknown being inside. Carnival mirrors decorated the walls, and a large cannon pointed at him from beside the giant clown's throne.

  In the mirrors, his distorted forms looked as terrified as he felt.

  The giant clown smiled, baring every one of its long, sharp, jagged teeth, and spoke in a powerful voice that carried to every corner of the large room. “Little adventurer. Welcome.”

  The smaller clowns, some fat, some skin and bones, some smiling, some snarling, some giggling, but all equally terrifying, piled into the room behind him. There were at least a hundred. No doubt about it. He was trapped.

  “Wait! Wait!” Jeremy shouted, trying to catch his breath. “Time out!” He had to say something.

  “Little adventurer. What is time out?” the giant clown asked.

  “Time out is when we discuss things like civilized beings for a short time and don't try to kill or eat each other.”

  “I see. Very well, little adventurer. I will honor this time out.”

  The other clowns grew louder, crowding closer to Jeremy.

  The giant clown snarled in their direction, and they backed off. “Come this way.”

  The giant clown led him up a creaky flight of stairs to a loft that looked over the room. In addition to being huge, the giant clown had an equally large double-edged battle axe strapped to its back. Jeremy followed the clown into a surprisingly cozy loft (cozy for a seven-foot-tall monster) with a large table and an equally large chair made from bones. The giant clown opened a cupboard and removed two large clay mugs and a pitcher filled with green fluid that looked suspiciously like monster blood. The giant clown poured green fluid into both mugs and then sat on the large chair.

  Drinking from one of the mugs, the giant clown seemed to relax. “I am The Lord of the Clowns, but you may call me Clown Lord, little adventurer. Speak.”

  The table came up to Jeremy's neck, and there was no chair to sit on, so he stood at the table, opposite Clown Lord, keeping as much distance between the two of them as he could. “I came to this dungeon by accident. I don't want to be an adventurer. I don't want to fight or kill monsters. Please. I just want to go home.”

  Clown Lord licked his bloodstained teeth with a long, agile tongue and smiled. “That is unfortunate for you. The trapped fly pleads with the hungry spider, but it never affects the outcome. And, little adventurer, I'm hungry.”

  Clown Lord's three red eyes were lower on its forehead than they should be, forming a triangle around its nose. Each eye seemed able to move independently of the other two. The top eye looked around while the bottom two focused on Jeremy.

  Jeremy looked away, feeling sick, then forced himself to look back.

  “Wait. You seem like an intelligent being, Clown Lord. Why do monsters and adventurers fight? Why do these dungeons exist? What's the point?”

  “Ah, you wish to philosophize,” he said, studying Jeremy, red eyes seeming to burn into his soul. “I have died many times. The dungeon always brings me back, stronger than before. The same cannot be said for adventurers. The dungeon absorbs their essence and their deaths are permanent.” He took another drink from its mug. “Why do dungeons exist? Are all dungeons the same or different? Why do adventurers enter dungeons in pursuit of wealth and power, knowing most of them will die? I don't know. All I know is my dungeon believes creating monsters like myself to eat young adventurers like you is making the universe a better, safer place.”

  “That makes no sense!” Jeremy shouted. He was tired, his whole body was shaking. He'd had a very long day in which he'd seen his friend murdered, and he was starting to lose it.

  “It makes sense to my dungeon, and that's what matters.” Clown Lord sat back, having finished the first mug of blood, and offered the other mug to Jeremy. “Fresh monster blood?”

  Jeremy shook his head.

  Clown Lord shrugged and picked up the second mug. “Now eating you is the reason for my existence, little adventurer,” he sighed. “But. After I eat you, I will be bored. I get so few adventurers. 'All the good monsters are on the upper floors of the dungeon,' adventurers say.” Clown Lord stood up to his full seven feet, muscles rippling under his red-and-white polka-dot clown suit. “Look at me. I ooze experience, I drop plenty of monster loot. Adventurers should be lining up to fight me! But no. They go to the upper floors. As a result, I'm stuck for long periods with my subjects who, though devoted, lack my intellectual proclivities.”

  “I had no idea being a monster was that complicated,” Jeremy said.

  “Indeed. Though I want to eat you, I have always wanted to assign quests. If you are willing to accept my quest, I will forgo eating you for the time being.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Okay. I accept,” Jeremy said.

  “No, no. That's not how it works.” Clown Lord paused for dramatic effect and took a deep breath. “Like myself, the Chrysoti spiders live on the first floor of the dungeon. Their fangs hold the dungeon's deadliest poison, and they spin the strongest, most beautiful silk. Your quest is to sneak into the spider queen's chamber and steal her silk for me. If you succeed, your reward will be-” he pulled out a pair of worn soft leather boots. “Charmed child boots. Charmed for stealth and durability. An item you could desperately use.” The Clown Lord grinned in a way that made Jeremy back away. “Their former owner no longer needs them.”

  “Is there another way out of the dungeon?” Jeremy asked.

  “Ahhh. You bargain, clever human. You wish for answers. Very well. In addition to the charmed boots, I will answer one question, honestly, and to the best of my ability.”

  On top of his stat sheet, words appeared.

  YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED YOUR FIRST QUEST!

  Steal the spider queen's silk.

  If successful, your reward will be one pair of charmed boots and the answer to one question. Failure of this quest will mean death. Refusal of this quest will mean death.

  Accept? Yes/No

  He chose Yes.

  “Excellent,” Clown Lord said when Jeremy accepted his quest. “There is a secret passageway into the Queen's chamber. My subjects will take you to the entrance. After that, you're on your own. Try not to let her kill and eat you. That's my job.”

  “I am exhausted,” Jeremy said. “Before I go on this quest, can I rest first?”

  “Certainly. Avoid my subjects. They're not as well-behaved when I'm absent. Oh. I trust your Sneak is up to 6, and if you have any extra adventurer points, put them into Perception. That will give you the best chance of survival.” Clown Lord walked away.

  Sneak of 6? How was he supposed to do that? He'd just gotten it to 3.

  Jeremy put his two points into Perception, hoping Clown Lord wasn't trying to trick him.

  He activated Sneak, watching his mana drop, feeling weakness pass through him as it dropped to zero. He waited to recover (about five minutes) and tried to activate it again. Nothing happened. The long, hard day and continual use of his meager mana points had become too much for him.

  I'm weak. Pathetic. No wonder the other adventurers tried to kill me, he thought. I need to get stronger or die. But first. Rest. He grabbed his cloak, curled up in a corner of the loft, and was out.

  Jeremy woke up far too soon, forcing himself to his feet with a quiet groan. He'd had a nightmare where he was being eaten alive by clown monsters, while standing in front of his class in his underwear, reporting on a book he hadn't read while Mezirma and his party sat in the back of his class, laughing at him.

  Looking around, his fragile hope that he might wake up at home was dashed. Mom must be flipping out right now. Nothing I can do about it, or much of anything else. Time to train.

  Clown Lord was nowhere to be seen. Just as well. Jeremy wasn't ready for the quest. He tried to open Clown Lord's cabinet. He wouldn't take anything, but he was curious. It was locked. That or something else prevented him from opening it.

  He activated Sneak, then pulled out the piece of candy he'd stolen from the first trap, and carefully licked it again. He got sick, dry heaving onto the floor, but not as bad as the last time, and he only dropped two health points before the You Have Been Poisoned effect vanished from his stat sheet.

  He'd been unable to hold Sneak while being poisoned. This was a problem, since that was exactly the kind of situation where he'd need that skill.

  He reactivated Sneak and licked the candy again, longer this time. He dropped four health points before the effect vanished. His poison resistance went up to 1.

  While munching on a dungeon ration, he activated Sneak until his mana ran out. A short time later, Sneak went up to 4. Mana went up to 5. That was something, at least.

  Did Sneak skill level up as quickly if he wasn't actively sneaking or hiding from someone? Did Detect Traps level up as quickly when there were no traps to detect? Questions he wished he could ask Boggan. He activated Sneak and walked as quietly as he could toward the loft doorway. He froze when his mana ran out, waited to recover, activated Sneak again, and peeked out the doorway.

  The Fun House was covered with sleeping clowns. The floor, carnival equipment, and cannon all had clowns sleeping on, next to, or beside them. A clown opened its eyes, saw Jeremy, and then opened its mouth in a half smile, half snarl. Jeremy backed into the loft and tried again, sneaking up to the other side of the doorway. Again, when he looked, the same clown stared back at him. He backed away again, waited for his mana to recover, and tried again. This time when he peeked out the doorway, the clown was looking at him, only this time its face was inches from Jeremy's. While Jeremy had been practicing Sneak, it had silently snuck up the stairs.

  Jeremy screamed and flung himself backward and underneath the large table while reaching for his knife.

  The clown leaped onto the table. A slight creaking noise was all that revealed the clown crossing to the other side. It bent over the edge of the table and looked down at him.

  Clown Lord was nowhere to be seen. Physically, Jeremy was no match for this creature, but he remembered what Clown Lord had said about their intelligence not being their strong suit. He flung himself away from the clown, careful to bang his head on the table and collapse on top of his knife, pretending he'd been knocked unconscious, or dead. Maybe if it thought he was dead, it would leave him alone?

  It leaped down next to him. He could feel its hot breath on his neck, sniffing him. This plan could go very badly. He forced himself to remain still as it moved down his back to his legs. It took a bite out of his right calf.

  Pain! Oh god! What was it with monsters and his right leg? Without thinking, he whipped his knife around, stabbing the clown's neck. His knife glanced off the clown's ruffled collar, doing little damage. The clown lashed out, trying to grab his knife hand. He pulled back, avoiding its grip, and stabbed its neck again; this time his knife sunk deep. With a half snarl, half scream, the clown picked up Jeremy and threw him across the room. Jeremy slammed into Clown Lord's cabinets with a loud boom and fell to the floor, breath knocked out of him, unable to move. Hands grabbed him, pinning his arms to his sides, picking him up and slamming him into the cabinet and holding him there. The evil clown looked down at him, Jeremy's knife protruding from the front of its neck. Jeremy pushed his head forward as far as he could, head-butting the handle of his knife, pushing his knife forward and deeper into the clown's neck until green blood spurted out. Its response was to throw him again, making him bounce off the table and slam into the floor. He struggled to breathe, rolling over and slowly getting to his feet.

  The clown stood next to the cabinet, not moving. Then it slowly dropped to its knees and fell forward, its large red clown nose making a forlorn honk as its face hit the floor. Jeremy staggered forward, yanked the knife out of the clown's neck, and stabbed it again and again until it stopped moving.

  Sometime later, the clown and the green blood pooling on the floor underneath it vanished. A blue flask appeared on the floor where the body had been.

  Something happened to his stat sheet, and he realized his right leg was wet with blood.

  His hands shook so badly that it took him several tries before he could uncap the flask and drink the healing potion.

  While his body healed, he took deep breath after deep breath. Slowly, he stopped shaking. He pulled up his stat sheet.