Elemental Spirit Intrudes
“Most of the time,” said Grengel the mighty, straining his tiny frame upward to reach the shelf of cleaning supplies, “I love this job.”
It was Azravel’s first day, so she had no notion of “most of the time” and sensed a “but” coming.
“But you know what I can’t stand?” Said Grengel, stepping back down delicately from the stack of rusty helmets with a giant jar of McGrugan’s cleaning fluid in his hand, its contents sloshing back and forth over the lid.
Azravel knew she was about to find out what Grengel couldn’t stand anyway, so she saved her breath.
“Most of the time, there’s good spoils in the dungeon cleaning business. Enough discarded bric-a-brac and valuables to compensate for all the bodies and gore we have to cope with.”
Azravel nodded. She had heard of the spoils. That’s why she was here. A friend of hers found a gem while cleaning up after a woefully unprepared but over-resourced party stumbled into the dungeon of the Lich King, Kraäaäg. Her friend had retired to some faraway beach, living the sort of life all Goblins dreamed of.
“But what I can’t stand is…” Azravel waited with bated breath. They had been here already. Gengrel must have lost a few brain cells thanks to the cleaning fluid he imbibed over the years.
“…is dungeons with elementals. They leave so much mess behind!”
Grengel poured cleaning fluid into a rusty old bucket, and it fizzed into a dozen colours. He gestured at Azravel to bring the mop she was holding over to the bucket.
“The water ones, well, they just make everything wet. Well, it’s wetter than the usual dampness of a dungeon, anyway. Cause a smell that takes months to get rid of.”
Azravel nodded. An Orc chieftain had once hired her for some bodyguard work, and they encountered a water elemental. Her clothes had smelt for weeks, and she’d caught a cold.
“The fire ones, well, they’re OK, I guess. Just destroy everything, but sometimes that does you a favour, you know? Gets rid of a particularly troublesome stain you’ve been working on for weeks.”
He took the mop from Azravel and swished it around the bucket, causing tiny sparkles to appear in the tatty tendrils. She guessed this must be an enchanted cleaning fluid. That made sense. The dungeon owner was a famous mage. Or at least they said they were.
“Now, the air ones. You think they might also be helpful, but actually, they cause so much mess and chaos, blowing everything about the place. Usually, the client gets annoyed as nothing is in the right place anymore. Not to mention all the rubbish they blow into a dungeon.” Grengel wandered to a small wooden cupboard in the corner and removed a series of brooms and rakes, placing them noisily in a stack next to the bucket and mop. “You know, one day, we found a fishing boat in a dungeon? And the dungeon was in the great desert! Blew all the way there it did!”
At the mention of fish, Azravel realised how hungry she was, and her stomach growled.
“Now. The worst are the earth elementals. Just destroy EVERYTHING.” He said, gesturing with his small, calloused hands, the memories of destruction lingering sweetly in his cleaning fluid-addled brain.
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