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Picture a stretch of coast, ragged cliff sides being battered by clear almost cyan blue waters. Algae and Corals creeping up the crevices of the cliffs. Bathed in the foam of the constantly high waves.
The beauty of the sea impacting the land is not transferred further inwards, as the land itself is barren rock, not a patch of grass in sight. The land stretching into the sea as if a thick limb separating from the main land. In a few areas the land slopes down into small inlets. The lower ground covered in clumpy sand with spots of algae and various sea delivered detrius.
Now picture in one of those inlets, there is a crack in the rock facade. Now imagine that you could hear screaming. You can't of course. No one can hear it.
That doesn't mean it isn't there…
In fact the screaming and swearing had gone on for quite some time. You couldn't blame him really. Having gone to bed as a normal human being with a normal job and a normal life, he had awoken inside a tiny cave, his entire existence a cyan little orb of a jewel. Well, he was gorgeous no doubt about that. Definitely the best jewel around. It's just… He had been quite attached to his legs, and arms. Other parts would also be sorely missed. The ability to talk had been quite useful too. Screaming in pure frustration and anxiety just wasn't the same when you weren't making any sound.
Now why was he screaming? Well apart from the whole woke up without his body, now existing as a floating orb. Which was a whole thing to be anxious about. He had also been completely gypped in this new beautiful orb life. He was a dungeon core, or at least that was his assumption, he doesn't know what other kind of beings exists as an orb in a cave. Except no matter what he tried to think, yell or force forward, he didn't see a system, status or monster breeding option, any option really. He would settle for a mana bar or count or something, just anything.
All he had. Was a tiny cave, a crack in a wall from which water sloshed in and out. And of course his own astonishingly beautiful self. Which could just sit there, looking amazing. Uselessly. And scream. He didn't know if he's in his own world, another world. If there is a God in this/his world. They/it have not responded to his many many insults of their parentage or sexual habits visavi goats.
Perhaps the gods are goats and are therefore not as insulted as they should be about their mating habits. When one has all the time of the world, one ponders such things.
A sudden gush of a wave, stronger than before sends a whole mess of algae and sea life through his crack, smacking his orb in the face. Do orbs have faces? Who cares! He's the orb here and he's going to say his face was very rudely smacked. The ocean would rue the insult one day. Once he figured out how to do more than scream profanities at it.
If the ocean could her it, the ocean would be feeling those insults keenly, he'd had a lot of time to sharpen his wit.
Suddenly the algae and fish which had landed beneath him started turning into motes of light, and he could feel something. Some sort of pressure at the back of his head. Or orb as it was. Was this mana? Another few waves splashed against him and he felt the pressure build, not unpleasantly, it was just there. This was some kind of bullshit! He'd been there screaming his orb off for however many hours or days, the water had washed in constantly, including fish, debris and plants. And nothing happened. Why now?
He pondered the question, wondering if perhaps a god had heard his pleas/insults. Then disregarded it. As it was, if he had been heard, a positive outcome was less than likely. He wasn't sure if orbs could be smited… or was it smote? Either way he had enough orb related issues to deal with to wonder too much.
Like considering his general shape, was there a possibility that his greatest enemy would be a pickup game of soccer and being mistaken for a ball?
Concentrating hard, he could now feel a constant flow with every incoming wave. The ocean was penetrating his crack (hah, humor!) and was bringing him gush after gush of life, and therefore mana, with every pass. He paused, going over his last thought. That might not be the best way to put it, even in his own head. He really wished he had a face he could rub exasperatedly.
No. No bringing gushing and his face into question in the same stream of thought!
Could orbs even have a sex life? He moved away from that thought quickly, because he had a feeling the answer was, no… And he wanted to pretend he was quite the fetching orb, all in all.
Okay! So for some reason he could suddenly use what he couldn't ten minutes ago. Cool. He had no idea why, but he'd roll with it. Heh, roll. He's an orb... No! Focus! Mana, dungeony things. Work. He knew work. It was that thing you pretended to do because you needed money to eat food and play videogames. So…. How can he go about making it work?
He tried again to pop up a menu of some sort now that he sort of had mana, he thought it's mana anyway. Alas, help is not forthcoming. So he concentrated really hard, staring at the wall behind his orby self and imagining carving a corridor further into the rock. Nothing happened. He imagined it harder. With helpful swear words. The rock wall mocked him with its permanence. It took him an embarrassingly long time to try and touch that swirling pressure that's constantly filling now, that he feels sort of behind his imaginary head. He attempted to direct it to the wall. Thinking very hard of a corridor.
Like magic the rock started parting, no sound being made as tons of rock, just shifted to make space for a large smooth corridor. Yeah that's right rock wall! Take that! He thought at it smugly. Now that he was concentrating on it, he could feel the slight dip in the feeling of whatever it was swirling around his orb unseen. He decided to just call it Mana. No need to be complicated and make up something new, probably was Mana anyway, and he'd look such a silly rural dungeon going about naming it something else. Was there a convention for dungeon cores? Dungeon email?
Dungeon blind dates?
Anyway, back to figuring things out. The dip had been miniscule for the corridor, which had him look at the constant flow of water coming into his dungeon and draining out from it again - flowing through by a crack in the ground at the back of his tiny cave. How much mana was he getting from this? And really, this was kind of all kinds of cheating if he just got a refill every few seconds. He wondered if he had a limit?
Something like a system or notifications would be really swell he thought really hard at everything. Nothing happened of course - everything was very rude. Maybe constant mana delivery is his consolation prize for having absolutely zero help or assistance in figuring things out, and being placed in a completely barren land. One hell of a consolation in that case, maybe he could even do something about the barrenness with no need to worry about mana expenditure.
He'd have to see how quick he ran down to the bottom of his mana if he really started building. See if the mana delivery system he was 'born' with, worked with lots of expenditure. If it did. Well then that would make him a very happy orb! As a human being turned orb. Or core, he should call himself - He wasn't relishing killing humans for mana, which seemed to always be the best way to earn it in stories he remembered. If he had enough mana coming in already, maybe if he was a nice dungeon with lots of resources and pretty things, people wouldn't want to kill him?
Wishful thinking perhaps. Yet worth a try, he didn't want to spend his core life murdering people. He didn't really want to die either, if it came down to it. Hopefully things would work out. Common sense would prevail, it would be stupid to murder a dungeon giving you nice things right? He pondered safeguarding his life on the belief humankind would have or exercise common sense…. Right… A small amount of traps and monsters wouldn't go amiss, he thought - wishing be could sweatdrop, but an orb would look silly doing things such as that.
And if there was a convention, he didn't want to look bad in front of all the other cooler orbs.
He looked at his new corridor. Alright. Time to find out what he could do. First floor. And… He rummaged through his mind, feeling out for what he could do. Most of what washed into him were algae, corals and fish. Let's see how he could turn that into something special.
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It turned out that once he got into the swing of things, it really wasn't that hard to control the space inside his dungeon. Just a thought was enough to send out his mana to cover whatever he wanted changed. And then like magic it would happen.
He'd get these feelings when he did, a slight warmth when what he was doing would work, and a warning chill when something either wouldn't work, or required more mana then he had available. He had decided he wasn't willing quite yet to test and see which of them the chill was or attempt to drain himself that low on mana, even if he kept getting fed more by the ocean. Not until his core was better protected.
It seemed he was either being fed enough, or had a large capacity already filled up. Because he planned to go grand, so the first and likely only room on his first floor he made into a huge cavern. The rock and dirt melting away quickly as soon as he laid a thin film of his mana over it. Somehow he felt that if he ever needed lots of rock and dirt it was there for him to pull out now. Neato.
Now it was time to Bob the builder this shit. Except with magic, so…Not actually like Bob the builder at all.
God… He missed cartoons…
So now he had a miles long and deep cavern. So… Lights right. Lights would be good. Did he have anything that could make light? Trying to think of lightbulbs served up the equivalent of an error message into his brain, he felt an incompleteness, probably a sign he lacked the materials. That's fine. Lightbulbs weren't impressive anyway, he'd just wanted to test it.
He'd have to figure out something else, for now the dark wasn't a problem. He could see just fine. It was him after all. If some people entered right now he didn't particularly want them able to find their way. With a thought his orbiness gently floated to the back of the large cavern instead of right by the entrance.
Hmm.. Maybe he should start with the entrance before he poked around more. He eyed the small stairs coming down from the crack, it really didn't have the proper atmosphere to walk down just three steps. Not very dungeony.
He'd be so ashamed if people walked in right now, it would be like he wasn't wearing any pants.
God.. He missed pants… Or at least the parts that filled them.
With a thought the entrance level and cavern both sunk down, the stairs to the dungeon entrance growing into two dozen steps. He eyed the water still flowing down the steps. He cut several inches of space on either side of the stairs, rock crumbling into nothingness, then created a small space under the stairs and up the back of the walls. A nudge of mana telling the water how to behave had it divert to the sides, come back up through the back of the walls, which opened up near the highest point of each wall in a long thin edge.
This allowed the water to fall back down the wall into the sides of the stairs as two long miniature waterfalls. Creating a nice ambiance of falling water, and although the stairs still got wet from some splashage, there weren't waves of water coming down the stairs anymore. No adventures would die from slipping down the entrance stairs in his dungeon!
Which probably defeated the purpose of a dungeon, but he felt it would be terribly embarrassing to kill someone by something that could be defeated by a wet floor sign.
Still it needed more oomph, the walls slowly changed into brilliant white coral with golden corals slightly protruding from the walls into themes of massive waves impacting a wild explosion of fire, creating a cloud of steam in the middle, a figure only partly visible in the steam, showing a mad toothy grin.
The other wall got the same treatment this time with a kraken crushing a ship in it's grip, little sailors sinking into the abyss where again a non distinct form is shown only that grin completely visible. He added some luminous algae down the walls, and hanging off the ceiling, giving off a sickly green light that just barely lit up the entrance way. With the white walls it was enough light to safely descend the stairs.
You could do a lot with coral it seemed, just using different coloured ones you could paint any picture you wanted.
Lastly he edited the bottom and top of the stairs, sinking the ceiling slightly and adding dripping stone fangs, having fangs and sharp teeth protruding out of the bottom as well, giving the impression of walking into the beasts mouth, lowering the ceiling enough a normal sized person would have to squeeze through the entrance, mindful of the sharp fangs.
Maybe he went a little bit overboard, but he wanted shock and awe didn't he? To really impress people, and maybe scare them just a little, so they would hopefully be less likely to want to do bad bad things to him.
He turned to his little entrance cave, where he had been 'born' and transformed it to just a continuation of the corridor to his large cavern. Smoothing over the crack in the floor. A new tunnel under the stairs leading back out to the ocean to continue the cycle of water flowing in and then leaving again. He wasn't cruel enough to make his first floor a water level. He still had nightmares from Zelda thank you very much.
Water levels were just evil, only a truly evil soul could invent them, so of course it had been gamers and developers that did it.
He looked over his large cavern like first room. There really wasn't much he could do with such limited materials. He wasn't even sure how he'd go about creating monsters yet. Just imagine something and stuff it with mana? Would it be sapient? Could it respawn or would it die permanently if killed. He was reluctant to experiment yet. It would be pretty horrible to create someone intelligent just for them to die days later for nothing. Did they need food? Or was Mana enough? Would they die if he ran out of Mana?
No. Monsters would have to wait. He needed to think more about it. So what could he do? First off, it was all pretty barren and boring looking. He stuck to the coral theme and transformed every surface into coral. Choosing a mix of golden and white coral again to give it a more rich look.
He grew an entire outcropping of corals on the ground, with twisting paths going through them. He felt the coral with his mana, and they were just that, normal coral, he tried to suffuse then with Mana and make them harder to break, it worked to a point. He could feel them getting denser. Then he got that little chilly feeling signifying most likely that he was missing a material to harden it properly. If he had some steel or the like he could probably move it further along. It really proved that materials was going to be the logjam in this whole dungeon thing.
Did this world have Amazon? Did Bezos accept payment in slightly used algae?
He moved along from his outcropping of corals for now. Raising some off the floor into sloping hills and valleys, creating outjutting coral shelves on the walls with small crumbling coral paths leading up to them against the wall.
Maybe he'd carve some caves up there for monsters later, or some puzzle or resource. He carved a groove across the floor, halfway through the cavern, ending in a carved out basin at the left side of the cavern against the wall. Then he punched a hole through the right side high up the wall over the start of the groove and connected it via a dozen small tunnels to the ocean, making it small enough no human could swim through. It also had the benefit of adding more water rushing into his innards supplying him with more Mana. The water rushing through the dozen holes, finishing into one large hole in the wall and falling down in a majestic waterfall into the cut out groove.
He watched as the river filled up, and as his carved out basin filled to the brim and became a lake. He noticed with interest that with no escape tunnel for the water built yet under the lake, the water all flowed into that storage space he could feel somewhere inside him. Useful that. Maybe he'd skip the tunnel funneling water out of him just for this one place. He looked above the lake, to where he had a small shelf of coral jutting out.
He pondered. He had gravity. So could he make gravity his bitch with Mana then? He could with everything else that was inside him. He made a small island of coral grow out of the little shelf. Then cut off the connection and willed the island to stay in place. Covering it with his Mana. Feeling it strain against him. He stubbornly added alot more Mana. Enough that he actually felt the dip this time. The island stopped struggling.
He whooped in joy as it sat up there, a few feet of air separated from the shelf on the wall. Just hanging in the air above the lake. He quickly added another three islands, creating a ring of four islands hanging perfectly in sync with the circumference of the lake, but up in the air. He created a small little island in the middle of the lake. Perfectly in the middle. He'd figure out something fun with that once he had something fun to figure out with.
Really he didn't have much to do, not that he could think of in the moment. So he started just prettying up the place, cutting corals into elaborate trees or pillars against the walls, and other beautifying little edits.
The sea would bring him materials eventually. He'd just have to wait.
Now he didn't have any beer bottles but he could imagine it as he began singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall, lacking much else to do.
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Elsewhere,
The people of the tiny village of Millerton had all turned up in the small town square, it wasn't much of a square, just as it wasn't really a town, village really didn't do it justice either, but you couldn't call a place just some houses and assorted stuff. So the town of Millerton it was. There was just one muddy street through Millerton, so the middle of the street had simply been appropriated for the occasion. As the only village near the Titan's arm - life was hard.
The Titan's arm or as it was sometimes called when children weren't around, Malorn's dick, had been lush and full of farms once upon a time. Now the entire area, a full thirty percent of the kingdom, jutted out into the ocean as just barren rock. And as they were on the edge of that, Millerton constantly struggled to manage a good harvest.
In typical Malorn stubbornness. No one ever even mentioned moving somewhere else, or maybe just putting the village 15 miles more inland. This is where they lived for the past 15 generations, this is where they'd keep living. They'd snap at you that this was proper Millerton mud around these parts and it would be folly to give that up for some strange worse mud, further inland.
Who knew what weird shit was going on with that inland mud after all.
A dirty bedraggled man covered in scrapes and bruises, and yes, mud - was led forward by some men in boiled leathers with swords hanging by their sides. The mark of the kingdom on their chests. The man was dragged in front of the jeering crowd, (All 33 of them) and stood up in front of a young woman and a stern looking man in mud covered armor, once gleaming perhaps, but now having suffered through enough dings and scrapes to be considered well worn. His short cropped dark hair had started to show signs of grey. His dark eyes pierced through not only the squirming filthy man in front of him, but the men holding him and the crowd beyond.
"What is his crime, Sir Rowen?" The young woman asked tiredly, she was an unusual one. Olive skinned with golden hawk like eyes, and long dark hair falling in several long braids behind her. Undoubtedly beautiful, in a scary kind of way. Even then, to the shock of many in the village, she was wearing leathers and a sword. They'd heard she was… unusual. It was all fine for adventurers to prancy about in leathers and waving swords around - but surely not for someone like her.
In Millerton, ladies made due with a ladle or a frying pan, none of this pointy weaponry, it was unladylike. Of course many a woman in Malorn had muttered at some point under their breath, that the reason swords were 'unsuitable' for women… Was because if they had them, there soon wouldn't be many men around. The frying pan and ladle does keep them alive, see. Just slightly more concussed, which all Malorn ladies agree doesn't really make much of a difference from their normal state of being.
The rest of the kingdom when queried about the women of Millerton have one word of advice - no.
Usually followed by going to the nearest religious dwelling and praying for your immortal soul.
The knight in his muddy armor sat calmly on his steed, hands resting on the pommel of his saddle, "Rape, your Highness. He was caught in the act with the innkeeper's daughter… There can be no doubt, several witnesses heard her screams and ran to her aid." Sir Rowen answered with a distasteful twist to his lips. The most he allowed to express himself. The rest of him could have just as well been carved out of stone. In a small community like this, where everyone not only knew everyone, but could probably, while blind and deaf, identify the rest of the villagers by smell alone. Rape was an unusual sort of crime. How he'd ever thought he'd get away with it…
Well… Every village usually had a village idiot, the usually just drowned them nice and young and saved themselves the headache.
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The young princess pursed her rosebud lips, her somewhat hawkish nose twitched as if she could smell the foulness of the man. In Malorn, rape was generally punished by death. Usually, the accused never made it as far as a lawman. No doubt if she and her small retinue had not been passing through the man would have been ripped apart. She approved of such justice. It certainly saved money on lawmen. Technically death as a penalty wasn't actually on the lawbook for rape, its just what happened so often that it was generally assumed that the law was as such.
Somehow no one ever seemed to end up punishing anyone for killing a rapist either. One of life's many mysteries. Truly the law worked in strange ways.
"Do you have something to say in your defense?" She finally ended the silence with the query. More for formalities than anything - If Sir Rowen believed in his guilt, he was guilty, as simple as that. The old knight had been the one to look after her most of her life, trained her in the sword and the horse and taught her about justice. She trusted him without reservation. He was known throughout Malorn as a just and incorruptible man. Besides, even if she were to simply wash her hands of this and move on, the village would get their pound of flesh, best to make it all legal like.
The man would still be dead, but everyone would feel all nice and law abiding and like they did a service to the country.
The muddy scrawny looking man spat at the ground and sneered up at her. "Not like 'twas no point, yer already made up yer mind ain't ya?"
"Allow me, your Highness." Sir Rowen said calmly and made to dismount. Executing criminals was no hardship for a man like him. Sometimes she envied the absolute surety he had in everything. Other times, she found it disquieting. To believe so strongly in something that killing did not faze you anymore…
"No." The princess said resolutely, allowing her steed to step forward a few steps, before she expertly slid out of the saddle, patting her mount on the nose gently as she walked by. "Malorn is not a country of the weak." She spoke louder, so the crowd could hear her. "In Malorn… Everyone does their share, we all work until we fall down, and when we die… We go back to work because even death won't stop us from looking after our kin and land" A loud murmur of approval swept through the crowd. If there was ever anything a Malorn could agree on, it was stubbornness.
The old legends told of their ancestors taking the country due to simply out stubborning the rocky surface - showing those stupid rocks what was what.
"Family, Country, Fuck the rest!" Someone in the small crowd shouted, and it could be heard over and over again for several minutes before the princess raised her hand. Silence descended quickly. She was used to the chant, it was somewhat of an unofficial slogan for Malorn nowadays. "This man will not die." She said solemnly. Continuing on before the crowd could descend into outrage. "Malorn needs every hand, every worker. This… Pathetic criminal can still work in your fields."
Said criminal started laughing hysterically. "Ah, 'course the girl dinnae have the balls." He kept chuckling as the crowd sent him angry looks. There seemed a great many felt like they could do without him in the fields. No doubt if she didn't make it clear enough he was punished, they'd 'disappear' him, no matter what decree she made.
That would make her look weak, not something a royal could ever afford - especially in Malorn, where the people mostly follow the crown out of pure spite towards anyone else over any other reasons.
She drew her sword, "Someone grab a torch. He will need it to stop the bleeding." She ordered, heart shaped face hardening as she breathed harshly out her nose. "This man will never rape again! He will be fitted with a magic rune to never leave this village. He will work until his death, he will cleanse his sins in providing for his fellow man until his miserable life ends, so I decree!"
"N-now wait jus' a minute!" The man's face blanched, visible even though the mud. One of the guards in boiled leathers appeared with a burning torch. Looking queasy, the man was young enough he didn't even shave yet. The princess steeled herself. He too would be Malorn to the core after today. You did what you had to, and that was all there was to that. Squeamishness was a luxury not afforded by its leaders - certainly no one else had it.
The princess looked back at her mentor and received a calm nod back. She knew he would take over if she asked. That is why she could not ask. She is of Malorn - you use your own two hands, nothing else. She turned back to the criminal which was now begging and crying as the crowd stood silent and torn between elation and horrification. It's one thing to wish for a man's death, quite another to witness his mutilation. Even then, Malorn to the end, no one ran away, no one avoided bearing witness.
"Remove his trousers. And be ready with the fire." She ordered with forced calm as she raised her sword.
The only good thing Princess Aryn remembered after about the small village of Millerton - Was that she hadn't puked until she was back in her room at the inn, out of sight of the populace. Princesses punishing evil doers was acceptable, one upchucking all over herself was not, and would have spread across the country like wildfire.
She had to remain strong. Malorn couldn't afford any less. Weakness for the royal family meant death for all of Malorn. They were the last defense. The only defense.
She had to be better.
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Malorn Dungeon,
He had no real way to tell time, finessing his floor, spires of coral rising into the air, small bridges of coral criss-crossing between them, none large enough for a man to cross, more decorative then anything - or possible laneways for monsters high up in the air.
He was fully aware of everything inside of him. So when he felt something new wash into him he peered out of himself. And saw it was nighttime, a fierce storm was raging, lightning flashing as big waves crashed into the cliff wall and into him.
He noticed the ship immediately, being smashed into a reef. As he watched, the mast tore off and fell into the water with a monstrous splash. Quickly he carved a large space twenty feet under his entrance, just a cavern not leading anywhere except, because it was inside his boundary, anything that floated in or was pushed in would be his. He couldn't count on the sea washing up enough resources just through his entrance. The odds were too low. He moved further and pushed his new resource sucking cave down to the sea floor. Maybe some curious crabs would wander in and be absorbed. Although he found it odd regular animals didn't need to be killed, just entering him was enough for them to be absorbed into tiny little motes of Mana.
Perhaps this was not supposed to be possible, but technically he wasn't making another entrance, no one would be able to enter, only minor things, resources, animals…
First thing he noticed he received was a floating crate of different mushrooms and fungus, the crate breaking apart and spilling into his gathering space. He wrinkled a non-existent nose. The wood from the crate was good, he had wood now. You'd have to be crazy to use mushrooms however. He firmly decided he wouldn't do anything with those - using mushrooms for anything in a dungeon surely led to insanity.
Maybe he could make it so some of his corals have mushroom qualities so they could be eaten… Would that count as mushrooms? No that way lay madness.
Secondly, some wood floated in his actual entrance, still on fire from a lightning strike or maybe a careless sailor and an oil lamp. He wasn't sure, but he had fire now. Muahaha, he thought. Then he felt very silly.
Good thing no one could see him acting weird anyway.
He kept watching the ship wreck feeling different materials being absorbed with each wave. Fervently hoping no humans were going to be washing up. He really didn't want to eat one. The ship must have been carrying food however - as over the next hour numerous fruits and seeds and grains floated over to him.
Not exactly the first material he would have thought of, but he could work something out. He did luck out on receiving steel and iron through some clips still attached to pieces of barrels and containers that floated in. So all in all the shipwreck seemed to work out well for him. Although he felt bad for the people, he hadn't seen a single person, so they'd probably all drowned.
At least he thought, they died without being eaten. Seeing the frenzy of fins out in the ocean he sheepishly added, by him, not eaten by him. They weren't dungeon food. That was something at least right?
He turned his attention inwards. He had new materials to play with.
Because he did. He didn't notice the small boat bobbing along the waves, before finally washing ashore the tiny beach.
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The first thing he did was soaking his walls with mana and using the steel he had received and he hardened them to a steel quality. He did the same for the coral outcropping in the beginning of his room, so it would be harder to cheat their way through.
It would be forcing people to follow the path not go off wherever they wanted all loosey goosey. He closed in the walls towards the path, leaving just enough room for one person, twinning branches of coral above the path to prevent anyone from just climbing out. He made the large branches hollow, with exits only able to open from the inside. Once he had monsters and he decided to use them, there wouldn't be much room to maneuver away from monsters falling onto their heads in the cramped pathway.
He debated on traps. Hemming and hawing, not really that keen on killing people. He played with some coral over in another part of the room. Suffusing it with Mana, trying to impart conditions on it. After a few tries and a really large amount of Mana, he'd figured out how to layer a trap with a condition. It cost over ten times the Mana, but he had Mana to spare.
In the twisting pathway at the beginning of his floor he had the coral trees and walls and outcroppings grow thorns with sharpened edges strong and sharp as steel.
Not only would this ensure people had to walk carefully through the pathways to not cut themselves. He set them to fire off the thorns randomly if his conditions had been met. Adventurers wouldn't know if they'd be fired at from the sides, ahead, behind, it would be totally random. The conditions he set was that if at any point when entering, the words, kill, shatter, conquer or enslave the dungeon were uttered. The trap and other additions he added would becone active.
He had wished to have an intent based defense, but perhaps because he had not had any people inside yet, it simply didn't work to set up.
Or would cost an insane amount of Mana.
The other additions to his little fun area that was barely one tenth of his floor, was first of all making it more labyrinth-esque. He had the coral randomly grow across the pathway as other corals receded, twisting the pathway around back and forth and forcing people to sometimes backtrack as a new way might have opened all the way back at the entrance.
He imagined a party finally coming to the end of the maze like outcropping, seeing the exit, and a coral wall growing in front of it as another pathway opened just off the entrance. And he might have giggled a little in his head just now at that thought.
Maybe he wouldn't kill people, but pissing them off would be something, wouldn't it?
The second addition was creating his first monsters, although really they were critters more then anything. The algae just didn't give enough light and besides didn't fit inside his maze anyway, so all through the coral maze he created large globes of glass, something he had received through pieces of a broken mirrors coming in from the shipwreck. He filled the inside with water from his Mana space, or he figured he might as well just call it his inventory. Something around here should be proper at least.
He as a Dungeon Core was making the experience proper, like a system should be. Hint, hint.
He drooped in disappointment, still nothing, all the work dumped on just him. Lazy gods.
Anyways. He filled the glass globes with Mana rich water, then created glowing jellyfish inside them. With a snicker he made them slightly mischievous, the critters not having sapience just an inclination to mess with people. The glowing jellyfish were able to turn their glow off anytime, plunging the pathways into darkness.
He set a condition that if any of the globes were destroyed or the jellyfish harmed - all the globes would go dark. The jellyfish able to empty their globes of water on any torch or light they saw as revenge. Forcing brutish adventurers to go through the labyrinth with shooting thorns in complete darkness - a real thorny situation.
He needed someone to riff off, this was getting sad.
Well sadder than being a ball floating around in darkness all alone…
He left it at that. Anymore improvements to the globes and it would just be cruel. Besides, It would only be mean to mean people. Nice, happy people could just walk through his pretty, lit up, coral reef on the ground structure. Well… He'd probably keep the maze part, he couldn't be too easy, people would take him for granted.
After his coral maze he had the small hills he had created, from the top it allowed a good view of the rest of the room, well once there was some light and other things to see anyway. Now what to do with the hills and the slope up to them. Something to make them special.
He had wood now, oak apparently. He quickly populated his slopes and hills with thick woods, no discernible path through, forcing people to have to slip around giant trunks of trees. He created extra branches lower down, to get in people's faces and lower the amount of space for people to squeeze through. Higher up he created a roadway of branches tied together for possible monster habitation, even carving out the inside of trees with exit holes high up in the air.
He sunk his Mana into the forest, the oak trees slowly becoming coral, coloured in every possible color. He kept the pliability of the oak wood, but now colored and textured like coral. Even more Mana was expended, making the new coralwood waterproof and fireproof, as much as he was able. He wasn't sure if there were magical fires that burned hotter or anything. He now had a resource people would clearly want though. Wood that came in every color, very attractive and oceanic as well as water and fireproof.
He turned the leaves golden coloured to go with the aesthetic of the first floor, making them larger and more plentiful to hide the upper monster pathways. making sure the trees with the most garish colors were in the middle of the forest, he didn't want to clash too much after all. He wanted awe, not oh god those two colors together, how could you?
Although he wasn't sure fashion critics did dungeon diving. Most dungeon people probably were considered debonair if their teeth colors matched.
He set the leaves to fall often and fill up the ground, making it slippery as well as falling and blocking the vision of people traveling through. The leaves of course grew back immediately. He chuckled evilly to himself as he turned the ground up the hills into gravel and small rocks, making sure there would be no sure footing anywhere. Minor annoyances, that was his jam.
Speaking of annoyances… He played around with the fruits he had received. Heating them up and juicing them and messing around until he had a tasty syrup that was almost like a mix between strawberries and watermelon, and yes somehow he could taste it when he thought really hard about what the syrup tasted like.
He picked random trees and made them able to secrete the syrup. For people to collect. Or if the same condition had been set as in the coral labyrinth, people would stick to the trees like glue if they touched them. And he made sure it was one hell of a glue.
He kept finessing his trees and beginning area unaware of the passage of time. Soon day arrived. And the storm had completely abated.
In the small rowboat a figure stirred. Said figure could be called many things. Corpulent, a gentleman of a large stature, big boned. His men had mostly called him that fucking fat whale. When they were a few miles away on shore leave. In the privacy of their minds. And while looking furtively around to make sure he wasn't there. And if they could pull it off, in a foreign language just to be sure.
Even then he probably knew about it. He was just that kind of asshole everyone naturally hated.
"Get up you lazy sods!" Said captain roared as he kicked the other two figures lying in the boat. Both who quickly rose with groans and muttered swearwords. Both were wondering if death by storm was preferable to surviving with their captain and regretting many of their life choices.
"I dunno why you lot are complaining for, if the rest of the crew's dead, means more of the money for the three of us, eh? By the sea maidens puckered arsehole you're lucky lads!" He laughed uproariously for a minute, stroking his long greasy red beard. His tiny sunken eyes peered down at his grumpy sailors as they sank back down complaining of pains and aches.
Honestly he couldn't quite remember their names. He'd only bothered really with his first mate's name. And he'd had to kill the scallywag when it became a choice of his chest of ill gotten gains or his first mate fitting on the boat. That and also the chance his first mate might have gotten 'ideas'. The two nobodies' survival had simply been because he needed people to carry the damn chest. "Well up with you! Stop lazing about, you hear me, eh?" He put a hand on his saber threateningly.
It was his favorite one, he'd killed his dear old daddy with it, eventually. He'd taken a couple days, it was family after all.
Job and Tallor the two lucky surviving sailors of the ship the Leering Wench, put their feet on the sandy soil, and stood to attention as best as you could when you felt like you've been on spin cycle awhile, with a man who's only relationship with hygiene was having heard it mentioned sometime in passing, decades ago.
"Yes sir, Captain Rix." They mumbled out warily. Although registered as a merchant ship, and sometimes actually bringing merchandise, like they had on this trip, they were more used to pirating. And they had seen their captain cut his way through too many men to even imagine disobeying. Numerical advantages didn't mean much when your opponent could be counted as at least two people, maybe three after a good meal.
He was also damn hard to assassinate, passing so much gas in his sleep that no one could safely enter his cabin to do the deed.
"The water is too treacherous to attempt to travel inland right now men, luckily I can spot a cave. Grab my stuff, and we can hunker down until the water calms." Captain Rix ordered, standing watch over the two as they lifted his heavy chest and the sacks of food he'd brought along instead of more crew members. He refused to walk on and instead walked behind his men, not out of any cowardice. You didn't make it as a pirate if you were a coward. No, he simply wanted to make sure they didn't dare steal a jewel or coin, or a shank of lamb. He caressed his saber, they'd better not touch the lamb, he thought as they neared the crack.
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The dungeon felt a sudden tingling up his non-existent spine and suddenly the Mana he'd been using to improve his floor with, slipped out of his metaphysical fingers. His vision immediately moving to his entrance where just a few steps in, three people stood gaping.
He had guests! Actual guests at his dungeon! He wasn't ready! He still didn't have pants!
The two thin men were scarred and gangly and dressed in cheap tan trousers and shirts, with ropes as belts and bandanas around their head, holding dirty brown hair back. At least he hoped their hair color was brown… At their feet was a large heavy wooden chest, and a bunch of sacks. He noticed with humans now in his dungeon what they put down wasn't being absorbed. It made sense, even as it made him pout. He wanted whatever was in that chest.
Was he a loot goblin now? Were there tests one could take? Multiple choice questionnaires? He felt like he needed to know if he was one, it would be very important for his future dungeonness.
At least he found out he could understand the language as the beachball on legs in a dirty stereotypical captain's coat and hat, rubbed his hands together in apparent glee, shouting at the other two, "We've hit the motherlode boys! An honest to the sea maidens giant tits, dungeon!"
The dungeon watched with bemusement as the fat one bullied the other two down the stairs. And was that supposed to be swear words? What did a sea maidens anatomy have to do with it?
Did she know people were using her to say bad things? Or was she and her, ahem - anatomy - that well known?
"Captain, this is too detailed for a new dungeon, I'm not sure we should risk it." The taller gangly one said, shaking like a leaf. The dungeon decided to call him Shaggy. The other man cowering behind Shaggy nodded his head rapidly, "Yeah Cap'n, I heard new dungeons are only a hole in the ground not…" he waved at the walls apprehensively, "This…" He finished lamely. Obviously his name was now Scooby.
Surely nothing could go wrong with the Scooby gang exploring his body. As long as they didn't split the party anyway.
He wondered if he was actually Mr. Jenkins under an orb disguise.
The beach ball with a beard turned around slowly, his face reddening. "Now see here, who gave you permission to offer opinions?" He said with a dangerous air about him. "I know me dungeons. This is the shit hole nowhere end of Malorn's ruined dick! Nothing grows here, not since that Sorcerer blew it to bits decades ago!" He spat on the ground.
Well that was rude, the dungeon named him Fatty. Although he did have some interesting information. So he was in a country named Malorn. And the top above him had once had all life eradicated from it. That was a bit scary. He hoped those kinds of people didn't delve into dungeons…
He had a feeling his coral wouldn't do much to sorcerer's that blew up countries…
Fatty had continued talking, "- No way this is an old dungeon or there would be life all around the place and the kingdom of Malorn would be creeping all over it like the sea maiden over a sailors ballsack!" He was sounding very certain about what he was saying, and it made him curious about what effects dungeons had on the land around him.
"Captain, the walls?" Shaggy waved his arm pleadingly at the scenes and waterfall.
"It's a new dungeon cuz I say it is, eh!?" Fatty said threateningly. Shaggy looked like he would protest one more time, but Scooby placed a dirty hand around his mouth.
Fatty rubbed his hands eagerly, a look of avarice on his face. "A dungeon core, even if it's a new one, sells for a king's ransom, after we kill this one and rip it out. I'll be rich boys!" He crowed. Rushing down the stairs.
The two sailors exchanged a look, peering at the exit before both slowly followed their captain down the stairs, carrying the chest and sacks. Eventually placing them on the corridor floor past the entrance, sullenly awaiting orders.
The dungeon really regretted not creating some monsters as he watched the fatty captain crow about ripping his corpse out of here for profit. And very glad he made some traps. He was just now stuck worrying about whether they would be enough.
He suddenly felt his mortality again. There weren't any more traps worth mentioning yet, if they got past his first obstacles - he'd die. He didn't like the feeling. He wanted awe, but he'd neglected safety - there wasn't any reason he couldn't be beautiful and deadly as well. He had enough Mana to set conditions to only really go after the bad ones willing to kill him. Why had he been so careless? If he survived this he'd do better, he swore to himself.
He watched worriedly as Fatty ordered Shaggy and Scooby to leave the chests and sacks behind. They'd grab them on their return - they entered his coral maze and immediately the glowing jellyfish turned the lights off. Plunging them into pitch darkness.
He let out a sigh of relief, at least his conditions worked, he'd been a bit worried.
"Heh, dungeons think they're smart. By the sea maidens great tits they've got it wrong! Boys go back and scrape that glowing shit off the walls of the stairwell, grab a great clump each and hold it up in your off-hands, gimme some light here, eh?" Fatty crowed, looking mighty pleased with himself.
The dungeon, and he really needed to name himself if he survived this! Watched in dismay as his glow in the dark algae was scraped off the walls of the stairwell and continued to glow, since they fed off his Mana. And he couldn't change that because he couldn't do a thing while they were on his only floor. Same as with a name and more deadly traps and monsters… Create a second level for his core ASAP!
Or maybe some damn monsters!
Fatty grinned, showing crooked yellowed teeth with several gaps as he grabbed an offered clump of algae, holding it up as he waved his saber with his other hand. "Swords out boys, let's see if this baby dungeon has any teeth, eh?"
Shaggy and Scooby slowly followed Fatty, apprehensively staring around at the very close walls - with trees of coral with sharp thorns and edges just out of reach. The dungeon had to hand it to Fatty, faced with a path only one man wide, he went first, even when wide enough he certainly received scratches from the sharp thorns.
He felt kind of bad, he hadn't designed his dungeon with people of the more… Big boned bodies in mind. He wanted to be an inclusive dungeon, but he supposed for now it was good, since this fatty actually wanted to kill him.
There was a gurgled yelp and many dozens of plings as thorns fired off by the side of Scooby, practically shredding the man's throat, as well as leaving gouges in his skin with thorns stuck in his sides. The plings coming from the thorns that missed, hit the strong as steel walls of the pathway with a plinking sound.
The dungeon lost awareness of the other two for a moment as the body broke down into motes of light. The feeling was… orgasmic. His mind losing concentration. The Mana he received, while not a great amount, was potent, much more potent than regular Mana. He brought his mind back to focus with great difficulty, understanding why dungeons craved killing. It not only made them more powerful and no doubt the potent Mana was more effective when building dungeon monsters if he were to wager… It also felt amazing and he could easily see getting addicted to that sort of thing.
Addiction was bad. He did not want.
What he found didn't really surprise him, Shaggy was also dead. But he hadn't been absorbed as his feet weren't touching the ground. Fatty was using him as a human shield - and he had to give it to Fatty, he had an excellent sense of danger. He was managing to swerve around and protect himself with his Shaggy shield everytime the thorns fired off. Of course being of a more… Round size. He did receive some thorns, but nowhere fatal. He had some speed to him, considering he had to move before the thorns were even fired to have a chance to intercept them with his shield. And he was making too much progress. He was almost to the exit.
"Heh, you fail, baby dungeon!" The fat man laughed as he could see the exit. The dungeon wished fervently for a new path to arrive, blocking off the exit. Nothing was happening. The fat man kept laughing, tossing the body of his subordinate on the ground where it began to be absorbed. Standing by the exit, the saber pointed at the ceiling. "No mere animal mind can match me, eh? By the sea maidens spread legs I have bested you!"
The dungeon desperately tried not to puke or at least thinking of puking, as he didn't think dungeons could puke, trying to ignore the very nice- no, no it was not very nice, repress, repress - feeling of absorbing Shaggy. He somewhat managed to keep concentration, and sagged - or at least imagined sagging, with relief, as the walls grew over the exit. To the shock of the fat pirate. The maze part of the maze finally decided to come into play, took long enough, the dungeon thought, feeling a great sense of relief.
"What's this, eh?" The shocked captain poked at the sudden impenetrable wall in the way of the exit. "You can't do that! Dungeons can't do corrections on a floor while you're in it!" He shouted angrily, poking the wall harder.
He looked around. The algae in his hand was the only source of light. The dungeon could tell the moment he realized how many thorns he could see. The widened eyes and the swear forming on his lips, before the dungeon violently repressed the feelings he received. Letting out a mental breath of relief as he could feel control of the dungeon return to him. The chest and sacks by the stairwell also being absorbed now that there was no humans inside him. He thought of the three people that had come so close, well more one of them. And was shocked to realize he could feel memories. Knew things about countries he hadn't known existed before. Did he… absorb memories as well? Not fully it seemed as it was all a bit blurry and confusing. But he now knew a lot more than he had a minute ago.
Well, either way he really didn't want to get in the habit of eating people. It just… No. He'd rather not.
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Malorn, Royal palace.
The fork clanged loudly as it fell down onto the plate. Eyes were politely and nervously averted around the long dinner table as Princess Aryn stared daggers at her father King Malorn - the 24th of his name.
"Say that again Father. I dare you!" The golden eyes of the jewel of the kingdom of Malorn - were filled with an intense anger. Those that knew her well could see the immense hurt boiling inside. At the other side of the table Sir Rowen closed his eyes with a deep troubled sigh, forehead wrinkled. The most expression anyone had seen from him in a decade.
That's when a foreign prince had managed to fall off the wall, land on a rake, which pierced his bottom - the lad somehow surviving it to simply run into a cart carrying a supply of rakes, all of them spilling out, the prince running into them over and over until someone took pity and helped him. That day Sir Rowan's lips had quirked momentarily.
Jadrian Malorn the King of Malorn ran a hand through prematurely white, coiffed hair. Tired golden eyes with dark bags under them staring down his willful daughter. He'd been handsome once. Before his father had the nerve to die and force him into this position - he still pissed on his grave every year for that. He'd shielded Aryn as much as he could. He couldn't any longer.
"You will be married, six months from now." He said tiredly. He didn't even flinch as the butter knife went sailing past his ear and lodged half way into his long backed chair. The knife vibrating for a few moments as everyone pretended they'd seen nothing. They'd sold off all the ornate furniture during his grandfather's time, so some scratches and dings now would hardly make much of a difference on the bedraggled look of the palace. In Malorn, people and the land were more important then useless frippery. It was bred into them.
"You promised me. You promised I'd never be sold off!" Aryn hissed at him with shining eyes, tears held back no doubt to avoid making even more of a scene. It is after all why he'd broken the news in front of witnesses - less chance of regicide, he definitely wouldn't wish this throne on someone he loved. He sagged in his chair, broken promises only one of the few distasteful things he'd had to contend with to keep them safe. Maybe not well off, but they were alive and unharmed. For a given value of unharmed.
"You know why I need to break that promise, Aryn." He said firmly. She was already twenty. Any other father would have married her off years ago, certainly one in the position he was in. He had done everything he could to stave off the necessity to do this. His late wife had begged him not to before her death of the plague. Begged him to save their daughter from marrying into the line of their enemies. He'd be breaking the promise to her memory too. He could see Aryn composing herself, the initial storm, locked down. He sighed and waved to their loyal retainers and family members, "Leave us." A secondary reason for their presence had been to ensure the rumors would spread fast, and everyone would know to not anger Aryn in the next few weeks to months.
Poor they might be, but they were awash in loyal and leal men and women. The room was cleared in minutes with mumbled respects and soon the large oaken double doors closed, with a ring of finality in them. Sir Rowen the last one out, wrinkle still in his forehead. Aryn finally let tears fall as she grasped her red dress in a white knuckled grip. Jadrian could feel his heart breaking as he walked over and pulled her into his arms. No doubt soon she would rage and hate him again, and he would deserve it. He held onto her like it was the last time. His own tears running down his short beard and onto her head.
For once he hated this damn country and the necessity to keep sacrificing so much to keep their people safe.
If only they had a dungeon like their enemies did, something to kick life into these desolate lands again.
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