The first thing I did after being…. wait, I wasn’t born…
Most things are born…
What makes me any different?
Slowly I turned my attention to myself testing for limbs, organs, bones, and blood. In my previous existence, this ritual was a soothing affirmation of things already known. This time, I came back from it knowing I was a gem, an agate with flawless facets, clean cut and beautiful. This was new. I also discovered that I was also the room– no, not right… cave around me.
Oh, and I was not the shrine at the back of my cave which was covered in offerings and small winged statuettes. Some were very detailed and others seemingly made by children. A… soft aura of power came off of the entire ensemble. Ignoring it as firmly as I had spirituality in my previous existence, I turned my focus towards the small animals and living things inside of my cave.
Hmmm… wait, why was I so adverse? It dawned on me that the idea of asking for help from any being, especially a god, seemed like a foolish and unnecessary form of self deprecation. If one has a mind to call out for help then they also have a mind to help themselves. In the cases in which one did need help, assistance, or service it was often more effective to entreat your fellow mortals then some deity. No matter how benevolent they claimed to be.
My cave, my dungeon, my body- these facts hit rather fast but clicked into place in the same moment and with them I knew what I was. I was a dungeon. My purpose unknown but my nature certain, I would excavate ever deeper, experimenting with ever more deadly monsters, constructs, amalgamations, and if I could remember well enough, demonic and undead forces. This understanding of my purpose was… satisfying. Soon challengers would come and brave my dungeon. Heroes, villains, delvers, miners, and treasure hunter’s would all come looking for experience, power, loot, and if unlucky or unskilled, their deaths. Hmmm, death. My thoughts on the nature of death, it was just that, nature. Your life could easily be extinguished by a stray dog or spooked horse as it could be done by your own folly, a trap, or by a dungeon. Was my purpose to kill? No. Would I do so if you entered my domain as if I was some trivial thing meant to serve your ambition? A resounding and maniacal, yes.
Oh right, currently, I am undefended, a single chamber with a few bugs, small mammals, and a sparrow nesting above the entryway. Not much for defenses…
Stolen novel; please report.
How to dig? How to move? These were unknown to me. I pushed my consciousness into the rock, demanding it to crumble and with my consciousness came my mana, a thing I had until this moment forgotten yet knew better than my crystalline body. Mana was my will, mana was my nature, mana and magic were one and the will to control it was a fine honed skill I had reveled in until the moment of my death. The walls gave way and with a rush energy leaving my core, a tunnel appeared in the rock. Hmm, what should I design? Willing my gem up into a mana construct in the vague shape of a biped female I walked my gem to the tunnel. A hidden entrance to my deeper floors would be preferred so I stepped my gem into the tunnel and pulled the stone up behind me into a door. I then sculpted the stone into the visage of wood planks and iron bars. However, the second I closed it, my mana stopped regenerating.
So I can’t close myself off from the world? The Dungeons I have once visited had doors. Hmm but there was always a crack, or vents… Two square vents formed above the door and my mana flow returned. It wasn’t necessary for me to be sealed myself in. Then on each side of the hall I carved out three identical alcoves. In the first I painstakingly sculpted a winged biped female holding a chalice, her robe thin and hooded showing every muscle in toned detail. I used my old face as a reference and carved myself into the details. The chalice was an unadorned piece of stone that could be removed from the seraph’s hands. Its expression was solemn as it held the chalice out to the hall in a ceremonial pose. In the opposite alcove the same seraph holding out a manacle of rough stone. This imagery pleased me. I had no tie to the divine but if the invaders were to find such imagery in my design then some would surely walk with respect. In the next two alcoves, I placed statues of the same design holding halberds and looking down at the hall with a grimace. In the last two, the seraphs were feral and savage visages with fangs, horns that curved back over their heads, clawed hands, and crouched as if ready to pounce. This series of images was to warn off the righteous. The chalice, offered to those who wished for peace. The shackle for those with greed in their heart. The guards to show I was martial and the feral seraphs to show I was not going to hold back.
I then looked at the clean shorn stone on the floor and with a whim tiled it. The stylizing wasn’t necessary but I was a dignified dungeon and having plain decals wouldn’t suit. Embossing and beveling as I went I dug the tunnel out and after a few more meters made a room. In it was a table of stone and on it was a scale. On the one side was again the shackle loosely wrapped up and placed in the plate. On the other side was a small sword. The scale was equal. If I could smile fondly, I would, but alas I could only think fondly of a conversation with a dear friend where we weighed the price of a sword against the price of a chain and found them equal. It was much more literal on this scale but it would be a useful puzzle. On the table was a third plate and a pair of stone hands holding it up towards the entrance.
I then pulled my denizens into the new chamber and inspected them all in a row.