Tiny Dungeon

As Valterra dived into the Evolutionary Helpdesk he was met by a massive amount of Aether and Potential within the Evolutionary Pool. Whatever power Guardian’s Blessing provided was immense and Valterra realized that whatever creature came out of this process it would not be a strict upgrade to his Wyvres. It would be an explosive leap forward to the point that Valterra didn’t know how it would affect the species at large. It was also clear from the bond between them that his Guardians would grow to embody specific concepts embedded in his divinity. He could feel such a concept being touched upon at the core of his Wyvre Guardian.

There was a hunger there. For growth, for the hunt, for something higher. It was similar to the concept embodied by his Emergent Lord of The Red Tide but it wasn’t as established. Valterra gave his best approximation of a shrug and dismissed that train of thought. It didn’t matter for the work he had to do now. It was something to contemplate for the future but the creature before him wasn’t yet at that stage. What he did have was a massive Evolutionary Pool to play with. As always he started by diving into his creature’s psyche, a task made easier by their more intimate connection as god and created being.

His creature was still young of mind but wanted to grow quickly. He wanted to establish himself as a dominant power in the Dungeon and that desire was the hunger that Valterra had felt. Right now his mind was a juvenile thing and more instinct-driven than anything else. That would change with the evolution but right now Valterra wanted to know about the physical. His Wyvre wanted strength and he despised how easy it was for the small creature to wound him so grievously. Valterra soothed the Wyvre’s ego even as he began to work.

He began by increasing the creature’s size. He would be considered a juvenile no more with almost double the wingspan and body. The bones hardened and the muscles and sinews were enhanced. He laced them all with a sense of vitality a potential for growth and healing beyond what was natural. The next step was to increase the amount of Aether in the blood and increase his Guardian’s Affinity over the natural elements. He had seen how the Wyvre had managed to wrest bits and pieces of control from the human mage. Now he wouldn’t struggle to do so or at least it would be much harder for a mage to affect him.

A larger brain, increased senses, and increased ability to manipulate Aether followed the physical changes. Valterra knew, at that moment, that the creature he would make could become Sapient. His Guardian had enough potential, enough raw Aether still to be used. He also knew that he was reaching his original goal for the Wyvres. When he had first created them he had wanted a list of attributes and the System had downgraded those attributes from Exotic to fit the Uncommon Rarity that he had been able to create. His Guardian would be reaching that high standard and quickly.

Ironically, Valterra realized that the Wyvre wouldn’t be able to stay on the Second Floor any longer. Wenigo was already struggling to remain on the Third Floor much less a lower one and he was Rare. This Wyvre would be Exotic at the very least. And a perfect choice for the Guardian of his Eighth Floor. The Core let the thought hum through him before accepting it. The Guardian needed to move to a lower Floor and the Eighth Floor was a perfect fit although his size would mean that he would terrorize anything and anyone who made it down that far. It was perfect.

Valterra let the changes he had made settle and looked at what he had left. A sizable chunk remained but he didn’t really know what to do with it. He meditated for a time before his thoughts drifted to the other creatures he had at his disposal. The mice, the rats, the mantises, and the Danians all flickered through his mind and he realized they all had something in common. A hierarchy. The mice had their captains, the rats had their mad-ones, the mantises had their Packleaders, and the Danians had their Queens. What would Wyvre’s have?

With that thought pounding through his Core, Valterra willed the remaining Aether and Potential into something more ephemeral. The sense of royalty from the Danians, comradery from the Packleaders, loyalty from the mice, and the zeal of the rats. It all coalesced into… something… else. Something that immediately catapulted the Schema to Sapience. Valterra felt it snap into place and on a whim Named his Guardian in that moment. It just… felt right. “You are Kalaam Furisto, the First of your Roost. Rule well.” The Name melded with the Wyvre’s psyche and Valterra watched as his creature began to evolve. A prompt from the System had him inputting a new name for the Sapient race that Kalaam now represented. He thought it was rather good.

Your “Juvenile Wyvre” is ready to evolve!

New Evolutionary Path synthesized from an existing Schema during Evolution! The Schema “Juvenile Wyvre” may now evolve into the following Schema:

Error! The following Schema is a Uniquely Divine anomaly fashioned via a Boon granted to the Dungeon Core, Valterra Unok’Davaas. The creature has been Named during the synthesizing process. The resulting Schema will remain tied to the “Juvenile Wyvre” Evolutionary Path but this particular path is Unique in and of itself. Only one may walk it.

Kalaam Furisto, First of the Roost (Guardian - Exotic)

A Juvenile Wyvre no more, Kalaam Furisto is a calamity for any would-be Delver or Invader. Bigger, faster, and stronger than any of his kind before him, Aetheric Blood pumps through his veins, and manipulation of that substance is second nature. This Wyvre has been elevated to Sapience and is the first Wyvre Apex in existence. Not only that, but he is the first Roostmaster of his kind and demands loyalty from his lesser kin by divine right. Let all beware Kalaam’s hunger.

Valterra dismissed the System message and let his Awareness fall upon the area around the battle that had occurred. He watched as the light dimmed around his creature from a bright sunlike burst of light to a more gentle hum. He would have to find a way to get Kalaam to the Eighth Floor but that wouldn’t be too terribly difficult. First, he had to deal with the aftereffects of his Guardian’s battle with the Delvers. They had continued to climb after the light show had gone off; it seemed as if they were well on their way to breaching the Third Floor. The mice there weren’t performing nearly as well as they could since they hadn’t been armed like the fortress mice below on the Fifth.

What they lacked in armament they made up for in number as the Third Floor was almost like a repository of success stories. Many mice had made it up to the Third as well as numerous other creatures. Those who had made the climb were allowed to stay as long as they wished as long as they obeyed the ruling Guardian which was Wenigo. Valterra hadn’t put such a rule in place when he had reshaped the Floors but he got the gist of it after going through the minds of his creatures. After Wenigo had beaten the idea into them over a dozen times they had gotten the picture. Even the different snakes and beetles that had made it before the birds had taken over had gotten the message. No infighting unless delving deeper.

As Valterra watched the Delvers fight he begrudgingly admitted to himself that there would be very little that would pose a challenge to these individuals within his Dungeon. It would seem that his niece was a capable fighter which didn’t surprise him considering Calamvor, his father and her grandfather, had most likely been at the pinnacle of human might. Perhaps it was time to delve deeper into the memories his father had left behind. There just seemed to be too much to do but perhaps once he had a better picture of his niece’s party of Delvers and he could trust them not to make a mess of his Dungeon while he was lost in the memories he could begin.

Valterra watched as the Delvers beat his creatures into submission and sighed. His awareness swept through the Third Floor to arrive at the throne room where Wenigo sat with his sword before him. The Core let the colors of a smile shine briefly, letting the fractal color bounce off his Core room deep in the earth. Wenigo, his first Guardian. Loyal, brave Wenigo. Despite the unfair assignment, he was still doing his duty. He deserved a reward for that. Valterra hummed and looked at his stores of Potential, wondering if perhaps another artifact was proper. Maybe armor.

Despite the recent expenses he had gained quite a bit of Potential and while he watched he saw a little more trickle in. He knew that the Risen’s prayers made up a little bit of it and his very nature made up the rest. Perhaps it was time to pay them a visit. He sent feelings of trust and pride to Wenigo and by the flick of his tail, he knew Wenigo had received it. He departed then after leaving behind traces of Awareness to warn him of when the Delvers had reached the throne room.

He darted down the backside of the mansion, past ledges protruding from the cobblestone brickwork. Moss snaked its way in long curling bridges and the green stood out pleasantly among the grey stone. Green grass swirled as his presence brushed past and creatures stood to attention. There was a charged nature to the first few Floors that didn’t quite exist in the Lower Floors but Valterra hypothesized that was because of the convoluted nature of progression within his Dungeon. It was something he needed to change.

Currents of Aether whirled and pooled in places evident to his sight as places he had set pylons in place to keep the Aether levels high enough to keep his creatures alive. As he dipped down past the deck he saw what he had only sensed roughly before. The Risen had been busy. Rough huts had been constructed from deadwood, most likely from outside the wards, and layered with earth from the ground. Dried grasses made up the roofs. Despite the humble appearance, the little village had all the feeling of a festival with Risen everywhere participating in games and chattering to themselves in their weird tonal tongue.

In the center of the village, Geckodo rested on his haunches observing the festivities with glimmering eyes. Even without tapping into the bond he shared with the powerful figure, Valterra could read the pride and hopeful optimism exuding from his Named. As his Awareness began to hover at the outskirts of the village, Geckodo’s gaze snapped to him. An invisible wave rippled through the village but before they could begin to think about groveling or kneeling Valterra spoke first.

“I am glad to see such celebration in my halls. In fact, I believe this is the first time such a festival has occurred. It gladdens me.”

There were low groaning howls at his words but the meaning was carried by their thoughts. It hit Valterra then, as he watched his first claimed sapient race murmur their appreciation in guttural growls, just how low they had fallen before he had raised them up. They had lost true speech, relying on their mental powers and blood connections. Only Geckodo had truly kept the language. He was the last remnant of an abused race. Valterra let a wave of calm and gladness wash over those assembled and he let them feel how truly he regarded them as forgiven and his. He watched as tears broke out and festivities renewed with an abandonment that had been missing previously.

He found himself empathizing with them. Even though he had never experienced the abuse they had, he himself had been lied to by the High Council. They had lied to him for what he suspected was a good reason but it still hurt. Trik’Weri’s betrayal hurt worse and Valterra knew he would need to deal with it eventually. For now, though, he was busy and matters of betrayals and bargains could wait for another time. The Core let the feelings and emotions of those present wash over him even as he began to fix a few things in the village. In the middle he made a deep hole, summoning brickwork to layer the edges and a large reservoir of water in its depths. He fashioned a rope from mundane moss and tied it to a small stone bucket.

With the well complete he shored up the homes and made them more organic with actual grass growing from the roofs. The earthen walls became stonework, and the insides were padded with moss. The happiness of the Risen was something he could feel even as he made what changes he could to make their new life within his halls better. Then he just sat and watched the party for a time content in the happiness of his claimed people. He wondered if the other gods felt the same when they observed the world or if they were often too busy, like him. The Core let the thoughts ripple through him as he watched. Watched and waited for the second battle with a Guardian to begin.