So... two more days to wait. Lasair had no idea how she was going to starve off boredom that long. Apollo and Mirage wouldn't even be awake for another few hours! With interior design already done, she desired to turn to studying the abilities she had amassed.
[STATUS LOADING...]
[STATUS]: LASAIR
[CLASS]: {SOUL BOUND} DUNGEON CORE
[ROOMS]: 2
[AFFINITY(S]): FIRE, MANA
[LIEUTENANTS]: {SOUL BOUND} [WILL-O-WISP]{APOLLO}, [FIRE-BIRD]{MIRAGE}
[ABILITIES]: SHAPE SELF, EXPAND, INSPECT, SPAWN, MINOR MANA CONTROL, MINOR PYROMANCY, ALERT, A DUNGEON'S PURPOSE
Actually... Lasair had an idea, bringing up the status of her [LIEUTENANTS].
[STATUS LOADING...]
[STATUS]: APOLLO
[CLASS]: [WILL-O-WISP], [LIEUTENANT], [RESONANCE OF MEANING]
[LEVEL]: 10
[AFFINITY(S]): FIRE, LIGHT, SONIC
[BONDED]: [DUNGEON CORE]{LASAIR}
[ABILITIES]: FLIGHT, MINOR PYROMANCY, BEACON OF LIGHT, ADVANCED SENTIENCE, MANA-DRIVEN SONG, MINOR LUMENMANCY
[STATUS LOADING...]
[STATUS]: MIRAGE
[CLASS]: [FIRE-BIRD], [LIEUTENANT], [FLAMING ACCELERATION]
[LEVEL]: 10
[AFFINITY(S]): FIRE, WIND
[BONDED]: [DUNGEON CORE]{LASAIR}
[ABILITIES]: LESSER PYROMANCY, MINOR AREOMANCY, ADVANCED SENTIENCE
Now she was sure of it. Abilities were driven by personality. It was shocking that she hadn't noticed it earlier. She would admit, although a bit reluctantly, that she was a control freak. And she had already gotten two second level control skills, in [MINOR MANA CONTROL] and [MINOR PYROMANCY].
Apollo was about as social as you could get, and his level ten ability had allowed him to break language barriers. Not to mention that his [MINOR LUMENMANCY] went quite well with this, quite literally, radiant personality.
Mirage, although it was not often immediately clear, was absolutely paranoid. Her first skill had allowed her the speed to escape any who would hurt her, and the upgrade to [FLAMING ACCELERATION] had given her a perfect trump card.
Stolen story; please report.
Now Lasair was wondering just how far this could go. If Apollo borrowed one of her skills through [SOUL TETHER], would it react to him differently than her? And what about [ARTIFACTS]? Those were directly designed by intent, and were limited to what she had done.
Or were they?
Lasair was entirely new to this world, and any magic she knew of, was because she had done it herself. If she could just guess how magic would do something, could she put that into an [ARTIFACT]? What about any magic from stories and games back on Earth? Time for testing.
She had no bonus energy from [A DUNGEON'S PURPOSE], but her own capacity was full. She pulled up the design menu, and rushed straight to the effects. She paused, realizing that she had forgotten to make the physical thing that would house the effect. In its place was what appeared to be a small ball of mist. It rippled as she gave it a mental poke through inspect.
[INSPECT]: [NULL]: AN ABILITY IN PHYSICAL FORM. THIS HOUSES THE ABILITY: {E[rR]O}r
Lasair got the distinct feeling that she was not supposed to [INSPECT] this thing before it housed an ability. Seeing the system that was essentially the fabric of reality have an error message was not something she wanted to repeat. But it had gifted her with yet another realization.
She didn't need to make wands, whips, or rings. She could just make abilities. Time for the effect. She channeled her memories of long hours spent in from of a computer. Of gaining just as much rage as joy. Of the sweet, sweet joy of finally getting past the god-damn blow-dart snipers. Of fire, twisted by a heretic.
[TOXIC MIST]: A PERVERSION OF FIRE, EMBODYING THE POISON OF THE GREAT SWAMP.
Welcome to dark souls bitch.
----------------------------------------
Tobias was starting to get worried. Despite how close to the border Willowdale was, nothing ever changed. All the same people did or didn't have money. Sadly, he was always among the latter. But what he lacked in coin, Tobias made up for in connections. He had spent years building his little corner of society. He had fought for the life of his friends- his family- with blood, sweat, and tears.
But it had paid off. He knew everything that happened in this town, and he meant everything. Any passing bit of gossip, any fragment of a guards report, any idle chatter about business as he shined a noble's shoes for a copper. Information was easy to find when you knew where to look. Especially if you were willing to get your hands dirty. And Tobias was willing to do far more than that.
A lot of his boys though he might even get a [SPY] class once he actually did some leveling. But he preferred the simplicity of the town. The simplicity that was at threat of being shattered.
You see, Tobias had too much information. Or rather, too much different information. All of it about some hole in the side of a mountain. You see, when multiple people said different thing about the same subject, one was wrong. And he had far more than two perspectives on this problem.
A few guards had been far more present in the bars the past few days, drinking off the pain. The pain from burns that covered their whole bodies, making it harder to find skin that wasn't burned than finding a copper in a dragon's hoard. They spoke of a wall of fire and air, like the hand of a god swatting them away. Each was sure that the only reason he was alive was do to the mercy of some territorial, powerful, and fiery god or demon.
The guild had whispers of some fool who sounded suspiciously like Mr. Jacobs trying to convince them that the [DUNGEON] could talk. Said fool weaved tales of kind and boisterous flames, and of a deal with forces far above him. Of treasures worth more than his life given out without a second though.
The Bazaar was hounded by a trader wreathed in shadows, promising them that if they followed him to the capital, their wares would be sold next to items that would make a king beg for a try. Only a few believed him, but Tobias had long since learned weasel out the truth. [FACT'S PERSISTENCE] told him that the man told no lies.
Finally, the young lord. Still drunk off a healing potion, he raved of a pathetic beast that got a lucky shot. He swore to Sol, Nyx, and every other god that he would have his revenge. The scars that dominated his right leg seemed to disagree.
Tobias sighed. Wherever this ended up, Willowdale was right in the center of it. He would have to play his cards carefully.
Things were changing, for better or for worse.