
by cascodia
A dungeon wakes up. It has no name, no language, and no idea why the first thing it meets is trying to kill it. Fear feeds the core. Terrified intruders provide plenty of it. But fear is thin. It never lasts. Then a wounded man is left behind inside its walls, and the dungeon discovers something better: his relief when the pain stops, his confusion when the broth appears, his slow and grudging gratitude when the room gets warmer and nothing tries to eat him. The guild sends kill teams. The dungeon sends them soup. Nobody asked for a hospital dungeon. That hasn't stopped it. New chapters every weekday @ 1816 EST. Books 1, 2, and 3 (~250k words!) of The Hospital Dungeon are complete, Book 4 is being written!
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