Tiny Dungeon

POV Wenigo, The First Among Many

Wenigo sat on his throne and breathed deeply to let the rich Aether infuse his body. Only here, at the heart of the Third Floor could he get the right Aether density to truly live. He listened as the forces outside threw themselves at the Delvers. He tasted the word carefully in his mind, placed there by his Lord. Like the rats, his Schema bordered on Psuedo-Sapience, and that increased intelligence let him understand that there was a difference in tone to how his Lord spoke of these invaders.

Delvers. Invaders who were welcome. It was hard to understand. They fought but didn’t kill and his Lord spoke of them with cautious optimism. Wenigo’s purpose for this moment in time had been made clear. He was to test them, test their resolve, and test their might. He would not fail his Lord. If they were to pass deeper into the Dungeon, they would first have to surpass him, the First of the Named.

He was no longer the strongest, as he had felt through his Name when another had been Named, the former enemy turned ally. That creature might now be stronger but he was not the First. Wenigo resolved once again not to falter. He would reach that height of strength and surpass it and become his Lord’s primary blade in the process.

Wenigo’s ears twitched as the tumult outside died down. His kin around him stirred as the stone doors to the castle opened and five figures entered. The large mouse was struck for a moment by the way they moved, fluid and confident, without any wasted movement. He knew at that moment that he would fail. An awareness stole over him generated by the Divine Potential that had been used to create his Schema, divinity flowing from Ile’Fen, the Lord of Conflict. He read how they moved and in the movement saw the readiness for battle, the years spent in ceaseless training, and the physicality honed by Aether to super-enhanced capabilities.

It didn’t matter. Wenigo stood, letting the fur of his mink cloak settle like a second skin against his back and flanks. Towering over the Delvers he grasped his battle blade even as one of the figures let their eyes go wide and spoke in an intrigued tone. “That’s a bloody big mouse.” There were chuckles from the rest until one of them spoke up. “It’s Iron Rank and a Guardian. Two artifacts.”

The silence that fell was gratifying. Wenigo stepped forward, set his blade tip down, and gestured to the figures before him. “Welcome.” His jaw still ached a little at the uncomfortable nature of speaking rather than squeaking and his words held an indefinable accent but he had practiced as hard as his mind could handle the foreign speech. It was the language of his Lord after all.

In the stunned silence his words brought one of the Delvers spoke with a different kind of awe. “Did that giant mouse just speak?” Slowly Wenigo spoke to answer his Lord’s guests. “I…did.” He gestured to himself. “Wenigo…First. I…was…First.” He brought a paw up to massage his jaw as a spike of pain worked through it but the Aether in the room soothed it. His ears perked up as another presence made itself known. His Lord had arrived.

Immediately he knelt, as did his kin beasts arrayed around him. The Delvers looked a little startled as he did so but their confusion cleared quickly when the Lord spoke. “Ah, Wenigo, my First Among Many.” The feelings of comfort and gratitude that flowed through their connection humbled Wenigo even as his Lord turned to greet the Delvers. “Natalia, my niece, I hope my Dungeon has been at least diverting to your party.” There was humor in his voice but Wenigo couldn’t understand why. Why wouldn’t this Natalia find his Lord’s domain fascinating?

The answer came from that indefinable place within his psyche. There was no challenge to be found on the Floors below. That was why he had gone deeper, that is, to be the Guardian of his Lord’s inner sanctum where his heart dwelled. The mouse rose at a nudge from the Dungeon and turned to face the Delvers, his not-so-quick mind grasping another important detail. His Lord had called this hairless two legs “niece”. The word's meaning was hard to work out but terms about family were easier to figure out than most. Now his Lord’s cautious optimism made sense. There was family here to see him but one not of his kind and nothing like him in power.

Natalia, one of the females in the group, spoke to answer his Lord, saying, “There is a lot in your Dungeon that I find diverting actually. The sheer volume of creatures, tiny creatures, is quite extraordinary, especially their rarities. For example,” Here, she turned to face Wenigo and he cocked his head to the side in a questioning motion. “Having a Rare mouse creature of this size is, well its rather bizarre. Most Dungeons would have moved on from tinier creatures by now.”

A low hum went thrumming through the room and Wenigo realized that his Lord was laughing. Something about the situation was funny but Wenigo couldn’t understand the nuance and so he shrugged and continued to ready his mind for the upcoming engagement. His Lord spoke as the laughter died down but the humor was still present in his voice. “You must forgive me. You don’t know the reality of my existence so I suppose my Dungeon must seem strange to you who are used to looking at things with a larger perspective. I have only just begun to try and see things as you do but it is a work in progress.”

Wenigo felt his Lord’s gaze, one filled with love and pride, and his body straightened, standing tall and proud. “Regardless, Wenigo was the First of my creatures to be claimed, the First to evolve, and the First to be Named. He is a Guardian of my Dungeon and a creature I trust implicitly. He is also your next opponent.”

Feeling his fur stand on end, Wenigo bared his teeth in a grin and cracked his tail in anticipation. The Delvers didn’t startle but their eyes did widen just a bit and he took in their responses in his instinctual way. These were not weak untested creatures but battle-hardened slayers and their stances told him much. Although. Wenigo rammed his sword into the ground and massaged his whiskers in agitation. These Delvers were not armed. He squeaked a question and his Lord’s amusement rolled through their connection.

“Natalia? Why do you not carry weapons? My Guardian, close to sapience as he is, has a surprising sense of honor, although perhaps it is not all that surprising considering the god who crafted his evolutionary path. Wenigo does not wish to face you while he has a blade in his hand and you do not.” Wenigo continued his whisker care, more to make sure they were ready for battle as to hide his embarrassment at his Lord’s statement.

Natalia for her part looked a little taken aback at the words. “Uh, well, we took a potion that shrank us down to a size capable of passing through the wards outside. It only works on clothes and armor, though, so we had to leave our weapons behind.”

With a hum, the Dungeon responded by beckoning Wenigo’s squire forward. His squire did so with alacrity and presented his needle when commanded to. In a flash of divine power, the needle shifted and transformed into a proper battle blade, long and double-edged with a crossguard of polished Dungeon wood. It wasn’t nearly as fine or powerful a weapon as Wenigo’s own but it was a magnificent creation. The sword floated over to the larger mouse, and Wenigo felt the nudge of his creator. As if in a trance both he and his squire faced each other and Wenigo felt the new blade rest in his hands with a solid weight.

He brought the blade up and saluted his squire before nodding to the ground. He ignored the gasps of the Delvers as he brought the sword down upon his squire’s right shoulder and then the left before presenting the sword hilt first. With contained exuberance, the younger mouse accepted the blade and saluted before bounding over to the Delver woman Natalia. He presented her with his blade and moved his head in a nudging motion when she hesitated. She did so and his squire moved to the center of the room motioning to the two, now armed, combatants.

Wenigo gave his whiskers one last stroke before grasping his blade and wrenching it up from the ground. His gaze found Natalia’s where she was testing the new blade by swinging it back and forth in awe. When her gaze locked on his Wenigo let her see his excitement and battle lust and the response it drew from her both excited and terrified him. Wenigo hadn’t felt like prey in a long time. As he moved to take his position across from her, he felt it again. To this hairless two-legged creature, at this moment, he was prey.