Tiny Dungeon

POV High Marshal Cael’Fen

The moaning howl of abominations reverberated across the torn and rent earth. The cries of battle and the screams of the dying sought to wrest control from the monstrous cacophony but to no avail. High Marshal Cael’Fen was the sea wall upon which the waves of abominations broke. “Hold the line!” He roared and his voice rippled with the power of his god, momentarily silencing the choir that tore at the mortal fighter’s sanity. Soldiers and adventurers alike found themselves steadied and renewed by the High Marshal’s command and the line firmed once more.

With a casual leap skyward Cael’Fen powered his Celestial Gold-Core and sent his greataxe thundering into the earth. With a crack like the sound of doom, golden light exploded forward in a wave consuming aberration after aberration in golden fire. While in the sky, his eyes flicked forward and used the opportunity to glean the information he needed in the moments before he fell earthward. With calculated precision, he landed beside his great-axe with his hand already in motion. The axe was swept up in an arc to obliterate the slavering jaws of another monster. It fell to the ground, smoking from the heavenly radiance that had removed its head from existence.

Falling back into line with the soldiers and adventurers he felt his ability latch back into place sending further renewal into the line as the Aether from his kills was instead directed into the ability he had cast earlier. His passive ability, Eye of the Celestial Storm, made him a living focus, empowering others and offering limited offensive strikes. The longer the storm of conflict went on the more powerful those strikes became and the greater the empowerments that were dished out.

When combined with his Hold the Line ability, which all Marshals of Conflict were granted, he was a force multiplier. Add in some highly skilled adventurers as shock troops to supplement his fellow Marshals and their retinues and his army was a juggernaut of power and destruction. At least they would have been if they were fighting fellow mortals. The Drowning Dark had built something monstrous in the depths of its pits, a dread choir of some kind, using the souls of its victims.

How it had learned to do that, Cael’Fen had no idea, but he wasn’t a researcher of the Magisterium Collegium. He was a Soldier-Priest of Conflict and this conflict was coming to an end regardless of their monstrous foe. Cael’Fen ducked a cruel hooked tentacle before slicing it off, with the rest of the creature following soon after as he marched implacably forward. His aura, Empyrean Valour, surged to protect the weaker members of his army from the Withering, acting as a buffer for them even as they were bolstered by his increasing passive.

What had started as a slow slog was fast becoming a grinding march as the weaker members of the army caught up in terms of power with borrowed strength and the already powerful members became even more so. The High Marshal blurred forward and back, breaking the harder knots of incoming enemies before returning to bolster the line. The screeches of the monsters grew as the grand army slowly ground them to dust and tightened their noose around the Feral Dungeon’s neck.

But if an animal becomes more dangerous when trapped, even more so does a Feral Dungeon. As he reached a small bluff that overlooked the Dungeon itself, Cael’Fen felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw the Dungeon properly for the first time. A breathless prayer escaped his lips as he looked upon the ranks of monsterized villagers, twisted souls with mouths open in soundless screams and bodies transformed into vicious mockeries of life. The dread choir stood in the midst of them like a bloated pustule of virulence, screaming its hate of life into the sky.

Cael’Fen was filled with horror and rage in equal measure as he saw it bolster the villagers in much the way he was doing with his divine abilities. The Dungeon was learning even as it was crushed and he watched as more twisted forms crawled from the gaping tunnel that led deep into the earth. The Dungeon had evidently given up on full transformations and was simply unleashing its mutated victims as soon as they reached enough strength to pose a threat.

Even still there remained huge brutish horrors seemingly made from carapace and hooked tentacles with beady eyes that projected malice and slavering jaws that communicated their endless hunger. So close to the Dungeon, he could feel the Withering increasing in strength. He knew it would become even more prominent the closer they got to the heart but if it got much worse the army would need to halt its march for the Marshals to reinforce their auras.

Using the small bluff while he had it he could see all the way to the other side of the Dungeon, low as it was, and could see the golden light of his fellow High Marshal Adal’Fen as she engaged the South-East flank of the enemy. Her army had been fighting ferociously since the beginning of the outbreak, curtailing the Dungeon’s advance and forcing it to expand to the North-West. With the majority of the Gold-Core adventurers with her, it had meant that Cael’Fen’s army was far slower in the beginning at making headway.

That was by design. Cael’Fen, with his passive ability, could make up for such a slow start and it was time to bring that plan to fruition. He let radiance pool in his hand before sending it skyrocketing in an arc that culminated in a brilliant explosion of light. Searing bolts of radiance began to fall from the heavens slamming into the forces arrayed against them and exploding again. He specifically targeted the larger horrors and enhanced his Strike of Heaven with one of his passive’s limited empowerments, having been refreshed from the constant conflict.

The explosions rocked the enemy, the judgment of his god made manifest. The choir howled in fury and the horde charged. Cael’Fen smiled grimly even as he barked orders. “Gold-Cores to the front, blunt their charge and the Withering! Marshals see to the horde fodder and mind the line! FOR ILE’FEN AND THE END OF CONFLICT!” With a bellow, the grand army charged matched by a similar charge from the South-East. Cael’Fen’s attack had been as much for Adal’Fen’s benefit as it had been a premeditated strike.

Golden energy built all along the line of mortals even as nightmarish purple coalesced to match it among the monstrous horde. The lines smashed together with a near audible boom sending plumes of Aether skyward as abilities clashed. Cael’Fen felt his passive strain to hold on to its empowerment of the battleline and growled as he fed it the Aether it needed. This would end today…and he planned on making sure it was the Dungeon’s end.

POV Natalia Talios

Natalia watched Korim intently as he led them deeper into the forest. They had spent a couple of days searching in the direction he indicated until he had turned his ability off and relied strictly on forest craft to find signs of any presence. That had led them slightly better as he said that the way the creatures of the forest acted could tell someone a lot if they would only settle down and watch. It took only another day before he was certain of his direction and he focused completely on their surroundings to the extent of stubbornly refusing to check his ability, worried that whatever dampened it would also lead him astray once again.

In this way, they had continued following Korim into the true wilds. They didn’t face many monsters but the ones they did face were strong. This made the group more wary rather than less as they had all heard the tales of the forest and the life that grew there. They knew that monsters would thrive in such an environment especially so close to the Northern Wastes. It was only the presence of similarly strong natural creatures and the Fae that kept the balance of power in favor of life and neither of those two things was something they wanted to encounter.

All of these things were at the forefront of Natalia’s thoughts when Korim held his hand up. The party stopped and he signaled with his people’s particular sign language that he would be scouting ahead. Without waiting for a reply he disappeared after taking a couple of steps and going to ground. Natalia shook her head in admiration even as she and the rest of their party fell into a steady wariness. Korim was the best Wayseeker she had ever seen even though he claimed that the far southern forests held members of his elven kin that put him to shame.

Not that that information helped her hold in a girlish squeak as Korim’s voice whispered in her ear. “Natalia.” She whirled around incensed before she realized that it was his Whisper on the Wind ability and calmed herself. That didn’t stop the members of her party around her from smirking at her response, evidently coming to the same conclusion even as they readied themselves further. If Korim was using his ability he was facing something that required constant surveillance. She shook off her old irritation of the ability and listened even as his voice continued with a smirk evident in his tone.

“We’ve found it,” and she had to hold in a shout of glee at his words. “But we’ve got a problem.”

She frowned at those words and tapped into the part of the ability that allowed her to whisper back. “What kind of problem?”

“There is a dome that surrounds the grounds and prohibits vision inside. The outside has quite the variety of creatures testing the defenses though it seems like only the really small ones are allowed in. Think birds and squirrels.”

“What else?” Natalia asked, hearing the hesitancy in Korim’s voice. A tingle of worry coalesced in her gut and it was confirmed by Korim’s next words.

“You know that Dungeon that I sensed before we fully went North.” Without letting her reply he continued. “It’s within the boundaries of the dome. If you open your eyes to Aether, you’ll see the truth of it. I’m sorry, Natalia, but you were correct.” Natalia closed her eyes and let the confirmation wash over her and settle the grief that had never quite settled. She pulled up the System message that had plagued her thoughts and actions for the last few months.

The primary holder of the Guardian Contract has passed on.

Congratulations Natalia “Talios” Calien!

As the eldest mortal heir born under the Guardian Contract, you are eligible for a System-Enforced Name Change. Do you accept?

Yes/No

She hadn’t accepted the name change for fear that it would make it certain, that her adopted grandfather was truly dead. She had dived into delving even as her father and mother held the fort as officials came, claiming that their hold of the noble Talios name was in error. Her grandfather had never sired kids on account of his being infertile, some kind of curse from his adventuring days, and his wife had passed on years before. He had instead entered into a contract with her father and mother, old adventurer friends, a long time ago to see that his name was passed on and the nobility of his name was secured.

The problem was the many cousins and adjacent families that had been passed over in the process of choosing her parents. Their aggression had been kept at bay over the years due to her grandfather’s presence and power but they had gotten more bold over the years as his absence stretched out. They only needed confirmation to turn into rabid wolves and her asking the guild for a leave of absence to find her Grandfather’s killers had unleashed them. Fortunately, the System had an answer. If she accepted the name change the System would make sure all parties knew. She had just needed confirmation. She could do no less and her parents had understood.

It was time to let them rest. She wasn’t concerned about their ability to survive the fallout of her next decision. They were Gold-Cores themselves and were more than capable of defending her inheritance until she came to collect it. She breathed deeply to release the lingering effects of her grief and accepted the prompt. The System whirled to life and she felt it as the Name “Talios” settled more deeply and permanently into her soul in a way neither of her parents would be able to know.

Congratulations Natalia “Calien” Talios!

As the eldest mortal heir born under the Guardian Contract, you have accepted the Name Change. All connected parties have been notified. Welcome to your inheritance Natalia Talios.

Krat’Imos, The High Spirit of Craftsmanship, smiles upon you. He encourages you to find the truth hidden within the dome. Your grandfather’s legacy awaits.

The System message sent a short burst of shock through her. The fact that one of the High Spirits sent her a personalized message shocked her more than the words themselves. The High Spirits almost never got personally involved, preferring instead to operate through their priests. The fact that Krat’Imos had done so provided the necessary jolt to her system she needed to move beyond her grief.

“Korim, can we get in?”

POV Cormac Torgir

Cormac sagged as he stepped free of the Mother Tree’s embrace but was relieved when he found that Fiona and his party were there to grab ahold of him. He let himself go slightly limp as Killian arrived and propped him up. The emerald-golden power of Trik’Weri had left him but his transformed clothes remained. His new clothes of office, he reflected bitterly. His bitterness could not remain for long in the afterglow of his relief. As much as he despised what he had become and what he had done, he was grateful despite himself for Trik’Weri’s intervention on his behalf.

It didn’t matter that he had done so to keep ahold of a valuable asset. That kind of thinking was not foreign to Cormac, after all. What mattered was that he was alive and that his party was safe, regardless of what they had to do next. To say that Cormac was not looking forward to his next assignment was an understatement. Trik’Weri’s conversation with Alu’Mira had been an intense negotiation and not a one-sided one. Age-old issues had been hashed out, the minutiae of which Cormac had no foundation for understanding.

The outcome, however, was certain. A seed would be prepared and nurtured before being presented to the Dungeon. The Dungeon he had just failed to conquer. And he would be the one to present it as an apology for the wrongs done against a Divinity. That had been a surprise and not a welcome one. He had missed the Dungeon’s divinity completely, so focused on taking what he believed was his to take that he never considered the High Spirits’ involvement.

There were centuries-old bargains that governed such things and Cormac had been made aware of just how much he had overstepped. The Mother Tree had been firm but not unkind in her admonition, taking the last opportunity she could to teach him before he left her sanctuary for the last time, never to return. The knowledge hurt but it was a manageable ache compared to the thought of Reclamation and Dissolvement. His exile and the exile of any who joined him was a small price to pay. He would even be able to pack up his workshop and take his tools with him.

It wasn’t all for the Dungeon’s benefit. That part of the bargain had been rigorously debated. The Mother Tree, Alu’Mira, was planted firmly in place but despite the sheer amount of life in the Sylcine forest she was old and her power was fading. She had given up much of her Divinity in order to keep her children strong during her twilight but it wasn’t enough to keep their numbers from decreasing. Without the numbers to sustain it, her Divinity was diminished. She would remain but her children would not and that was not something she was willing to contemplate.

So the bargain had been struck. A seed for the Dungeon and once grown, a potential home for her children. Now all that remained was for Trik’Weri to convince the Dungeon to accept a gift from them and the ensuing responsibilities that entailed. Cormac didn’t think that was going to be as easy as the High Spirit had made it out to be. Regardless, he had other considerations as he looked over at Fiona and smiled. There was one thing he was determined to accomplish before he proceeded to his new duty.