Dungeons Are Bad Business

Nock closed his projection’s eyes and enjoyed the darkness that filled his senses. It wouldn’t be long before the boredom that’d been his constant companion for the past few weeks returned, but for now he could let his thoughts languish in peace.

His captivity in Blue’s workshop rankled him in a way that he couldn’t explain. Functionally, he knew – knew – that this was better than hanging from a rusty old nail in a half-collapsed shed the way he had after Dazen had settled down for his happily-ever-after with Esmerelda, but he would have traded almost anything to be back there instead of this place. At least in the shed he’d been able to daydream about the Glory he’d earned helping Dazen slay the [Ravenous Harpylord]. What a battle that’d been! He could still hear the way that the beast’s feathers had cut through the air as they’d flown toward Dazen. They’d been sharper than steel!

Nock’s heart, or at least the errant bit of leftover magic from his maker that served as such a thing, twinged. How he missed having a proper wielder! How he missed the sense of having a purpose and the never-ending quest to become a {Legendary Weapon}. He’d been so desperate, so Glory-starved in recent years that he’d even agreed to go along with that fool’s venture to become the |Bandit King|. As if attaining a Role was possible for a man like that!

Out of habit, the bow made his projection snort. Just like Kaletta used to do, he thought. His heart twanged again; he could still remember his second wielder’s face if he tried hard enough, though enough years had passed that he couldn’t quite recall the sound of her laugh when her companion Martin told bawdy jokes around their party campfire.

Of course, his recollection of the moment she’d fallen was as clear as glass, like it would always be. The boiling orange radiance of Embermane’s [Infernal Command], the smell of smoke as the trees around Kaletta turned to ash and blew away in a heartbeat, the pathetically small sound his wielder’s lifeless body had made as it hit the ground. He once again felt his own frustration that her defensive {Artifacts} and skills had failed to keep her alive, and the fury that followed as he projected his first wielder’s form in an vain attempt at vengeance.

“Might as well have been a fly fighting a thunderstorm,” he muttered quietly, mentally shivering at the memory of staring into six burning eyes while eight fiery arms fluttered and flexed. Embermane was a monster unlike any that’d existed before or since; a nearly ten foot tall [Netherborne Titan] truly deserving the mantle of |Humanoid Calamity|.

It only took the weaponsoul a bit of effort to wrench a cold, mirthless laugh from his projection as he remembered his single, futile strike. Such human affectations were important to bonding with prospective wielders, and Nock wanted to stay in practice for when he got out of here.

Wanting to shake the melancholy threatening to consume his thoughts, Nock forced himself to muse on his next job instead. Stalking the halls of the dungeon, eh? It was hardly the most glorious job he’d ever taken, but it certainly beat being stuck in here. Maybe a promising wielder would come visit, and he’d be able to strike a deal with Blue to end his service early.

If only that [Witch] had been an archer, Nock thought as he stood his projection up and had it pace back and forth. Not for the first time, he wondered if it would have been worth it to offer her his service even if it meant leaving his body and taking up residence in another weapon; that girl was almost the living embodiment of Destined For Glory, and he had all the time in the world to get used to a new shape.

He shook his projection’s head. That’d never been a real option and he knew it. The act of becoming a different weapon – instinctively, Nock thought of it as [Rebirth] – was supposed to be safe. He’d talked to other weaponsouls that he’d met across the decades, and none of them had mentioned any issues beyond simple acclimation, but Nock didn’t trust them.

His suspicion was well-founded too…or so he thought. From time to time, he recalled the sensation of slicing and stabbing perfectly, despite the fact that those weren’t things a bow and arrows did; he snapped and twanged.

No, no matter what anyone told him, Nock feared [Rebirth]. He didn’t want to risk losing his memories, his sense of self, or the string of wielders whose names and faces were barely more than a blur in his memories due to their short tenure.

His life – if it could even be called that he thought bitterly – had been far from ideal, but it was still his and he didn’t want to throw it away. Even the worst parts had been interesting, if terrifying.

He’d just have to stay patient, and eventually he’d find another wielder. A proper wielder, who would use him to attain Glory beyond measure. Who would immortalize their names in poems and songs. Who would one day hang him up for a Happily Ever After and start the cycle over again.

That was what it meant to be a weaponsoul. The next step was always just a matter of time away, and Nock had plenty of that to spare.

A little half-finished ghost floated between the tables of the lab, and Nock watched it with great interest. One of its arms was missing, and its eyes were empty, but the weaponsoul still had his projection hold out its hand in a semblance of greeting.

“Evening to you, Butler,” he said, using his nickname for the little creation. “How are you doing on this lovely day?”

Of course, the ghost didn’t respond. It never did, but Nock didn’t care. Talking to things that couldn’t talk back was a key part of enduring extended periods of disuse.

At least the ghost was more interesting than the cobweb that he’d used in Dazen’s shed.

One of the most important things for a hunter to do – and no matter what else happened, Nock thought of himself as a hunter’s tool first and foremost – was prepare a run before the quarry ever got close. That was why Nock had his projection carry him into a wide room down on the second floor of the dungeon and took a good look around. It was filled with pillars and pitfalls, and there were plenty of little nooks and crannies around the walls for him to hide in. Relishing the chance to actually move around freely and test his skills, the weaponsoul spent a few minutes checking all the angles of attack that he could find and thinking about the best path to follow in order to use the room’s layout to his advantage.

When he was done with that, he walked into the next hallway and repeated the process. Room by room he was building his mental map. Already he could see the ebbs and flows offered by the floor, and while he would have liked a bigger space to work with he could make do down here.

Blue was waiting near the entrance to the floor, fiddling with a stack of multicolored tiles and mumbling to himself. For a moment, Nock felt an old itch: he could simply knock the [Dungeon Master] out and take his freedom. He’d taken so many other things that he didn’t value anywhere near as highly, surely this would be justified too?

No, that wouldn’t be right. Blue had offered him a job and Nock had agreed to the terms. It wouldn’t do to become a Cursed weaponsoul. That was a fast path to a forced – and painful – rebirth at the proverbial hands of a cleansing artifact or some wannabe [Hero].

Plus, if he tried to escape, he’d probably have to contend with that [Pumpkin Witch] again. Given the way she and Blue looked at each other, Nock doubted that the girl would be content with simply capturing him if he fought his way out.

Nock made his projection sigh and waited for Blue to notice his approach, but after a minute or so it was clear that the [Dungeon Master] was nearly completely oblivious. After a long moment, he had his projection cough, and when Blue turned towards him with blooming surprise said, “Alright, I think I’ve got the measure of things down here now. I don’t suppose there’s any chance that we could change the terms of our agreement to let me roam the entire dungeon? I think it’d be a lot more effective if I could stalk an adventurer all the way down from the first floor.”

Blue laughed weakly and shook his head. The poor kid looked tired, with dark rings under his eyes and a slight tremor in his hands that wasn’t just skill overuse. “I wish we could change things up, but I’m too tired to go through all the rooms and redo everything again. After the circuit finishes up though we can discuss it, okay?”

Nock had his projection nod. “That’s fine. You should get some rest, Blue. You look awful.”

“Thanks for your honesty,” Blue said with a tired smile. “I just keep thinking that something’s going to go wrong and so I’m checking everything over and over again. Reginald and Alforde think I’m crazy.”

“Like all things, preparation has diminishing returns,” Nock said. “I’m sure the dungeon is fine. You wouldn’t want to accidentally break something or screw it up right before the circuit starts, would you?”

Blue paused and looked up at him, and Nock briefly wondered if he’d said too much. His experience with the [Dungeon Master] was rather limited, but he’d seen the young man’s mercurial moods enough to be worried. Thankfully, it seemed that Blue was feeling pensive or permissive, because he exhaled slowly and said, “Silly as it may sound, I hadn’t really thought of that. You’re probably right, Nock. Thanks.”

The weaponsoul had his projection nod again. “Of course. Happy to help, since an incapacitated patron is one who doesn’t pay.”

Blue stood up and dusted off his knees. “Fair enough. Alright, I think I’m ready to go ahead and go back upstairs. Are you sure that you got everything you need?”

Nock had his projection nod once again. Sometimes he wondered if he used the gesture too much. “Don’t you worry. I’m going to be the best hazard in this dungeon within a few days of starting up. Just you wait and see.”

"I sure hope so. That'd definitely make my life a lot easier."

Falling into step next to the [Dungeon Master], Nock left the dungeon and returned to the lab. He waited patiently while his projection set him down on the table, then deactivated his skill and started seeing about emptying his thoughts.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d get to fight again. An old thrill thrummed up and down his string.

Tomorrow he’d get to chase Glory on his own terms. The thought was frightening, but also exciting, and a tiny heretical desire bloomed inside his heart.

Maybe…maybe he didn’t need a wielder after all. Maybe he could make a name for himself by himself.

…Maybe this was the best place to do it.

Nock’s Character Sheet:

Nock:

{Hunter’s Tool} (Nibor Greentights)

Glory: 517

Equip Bonuses:

Might: + 26

Wit: +3

Faith: + 16

Hunter’s Intuition: + 6

Aim: + 8