I think I may have to come to terms with an uncomfortable fact. Johnathon, whom I’d previously been thinking of as rather daft on account of being a newborn, and a skeleton with slow thoughts, may be smarter than me. I have a theory about this. Soul motes. As his soul mote grew I noticed his thoughts flowing faster and more easily. When I think of how many soul motes have been fused into my own crystal it’s rather inconceivable how smart I ought to be, but instead I feel like I’m embodying the notion of thinking stupidly, but faster. I can do tens of calculations at a time, but my thoughts remain as narrow and limited as ever. Johnathon isn’t a genius, not truly, but he has a more artistic, nuanced, and sensory oriented view of the world, and sensory oriented views are probably the thing I’ve lost most in my long meditations in the void. Additionally he has the patience and commitment to sit down and study something in a way I may never have had. I never thought of myself as too bright despite some thinking me to be, but I can’t say I ever applied myself to my studies as strongly as he does, and it shows. He absorbed all my knowledge and understanding faster then I ever had. While he may be prone to the tactical blunders that are common among overconfident youths, such lessons can only come with time, so I can’t really say his intelligence is lacking, rather perhaps my own is. I suppose I’m just lucky to be surrounded by as many wonderful people as I am.
I might as well do a quick analysis of gains and losses and what I’ve learned from his exploration. Firstly, the world is indeed big and filled with threats, but the people around me don’t seem so bad or menacing. Secondly, we are in the middle of a boarder conflict. Rather we are in one of those small boarder cities drawn in disputed lands, so chances are this could become a war zone if someone started a fight. I hope that won’t come before this supposed apocalyptic tier monster caterpillar forces everyone to move. Thirdly, the trees here are huge, I wonder if I had some chopped down, would eating them consume my black gas faster than bugs? I’m of mixed mind on if I really want to use up my black gas now though. That’s because of something that happened with Brice recently. That’s skipping ahead though, probably better to run through it in order.
I feel understandably nervous about being a living manna printing press in a world where more manna means more levels with which to capture and exploit young dungeons, and a brighter future to any who get it. That feeling of nervous dread is only compounded by knowing there are literal gods running around. Not that I have any point of reference for gauging strength aside from that a more powerful dungeon than myself, possibly the dungeon the danger rocks are from, was destroyed by Ha-Na-Na. I still think this world’s naming convention is ridiculous, but they probably think the same of mine. Moreover the guy survived a mountain being dropped on him, could I survive that? Well, maybe I’m probably going to be able to eat a mountain sooner or later.
Oddly the danger rocks are still danger rocks despite remaining broken. So far I’ve assumed that means the dungeon is still alive, if this really is the dungeon of embers, should I tell them it’s still alive? If nothing else I can save that as an option in case it proves dangerous to me myself. On the other hand knowing there are over ten threats marked as of a similar tier to myself in this small area is somehow reassuring. I mean, sure, they could attack me too, but it means there’s really allot less reason for me to be investigated in the future.
Antagonism between the Empire and Freehaven doesn’t bode well for peace long term, but at least they’re not in outright hostilities already. I wonder, it’s been decades since I’ve become a dungeon core, but it really doesn’t feel that long, I don’t know if that’s a dungeon thing or a me thing, but it means even distant conflicts may be just around the corner.
When Brice began hunting I noticed that he was getting more from the kills than my other children generally got within my manna field. It was honestly more an experiment than anything, but I tried pulling on the tether as his soul mote absorbed the fragments of soul mote from his kill. As it happens, a good half of the soul fragments slipped into the tether, lengthening it. At first this looked like an easy solution to our soul tether shortage, a means by which more of my children would be able to range outwards, and it was, but before I knew it.
[Congratulations on reaching level 6]
[Detecting you have been stealing manna from your dungeon creatures for your own advancement]
[You have gained the ability Embezzlement]
Now it seems that the same thing happens passively. I wonder if I can just pretend this never happened? I feel kind of guilty, but at the same time I advanced a whole level with minimal investment of death attuned manna, mostly just reviving my children when they died in hunts. Perhaps I could see it as a fee, or as a natural reimbursement of my costs? I know the truth though, that’s all excuses, my returns far exceed my investment this time. Moreover it makes me consider strategic implementation of my death attuned manna. If I don’t need to digest things to gain levels, in fact this is arguably faster and more efficient than digesting ever was.
Casually scanning through what I can see through my voyeur ability I see Brice coming back my way, I can’t help but wonder if perhaps these abilities deserve exactly the name they got. Huh, that’s weird, he’s got the whole hunting party with him, even Ha-Na-Na. Are they, I mean, did he notice my inhospitable voyeuristic embezzlement, and think to terminate me? For a moment panic floods my mind and I can’t think, but then I calm down. Calm, calm, lets wait and watch first, as much as Johnathon suspects the kid will bring us trouble, I can’t readily believe that, it seems that he’s trying his best just like everyone else, and I’d hate to doubt a friend and go down the real path of an autocrat without need. When he reaches the sinkhole, he and the other undeads with him pull out axes and begin chopping down trees. After they take swords and saws, working to carefully smooth the logs into monolithic pillars, cutting some thin with saws, and leaving others large. Over the next three days I figure out what they’re doing. They’re building a fortress right on top of me. Watching as closely as I am, I naturally notice when Brice talks to Ha-Na-Na, which he often does in writing.
“See, I told you, I’ve got this under control, there will be no danger here, only a fortress for my people to range out from as we begin doing our own hunts. Whatever was here is inactive and if it shows up again we’ll deal with it.”
“Are you sure kid, I could look into it first if you’d like me to.”
“No, where’s the adventure that way? I can’t grow if you coddle me too much, just you watch me, I’m going to have you eat my dust old man.”
“Ha-ha-ha, I’d love to see that happen, but don’t be holding your breath you bonehead. You may have a thick skull, but yours can never compare to mine! Ha-ha-ha!”
Brice clicked his jaw in mirrored laughter, but a hint of challenge flashed in his hollow eyes.
So that’s what they’re doing, they’re building a fortress, complete with a main gate, a keep, a smithy, a bunkhouse, a training yard, outer walls, a storage room, and a command room. Stopping to think about it I can’s help but wonder, are my days as a real dungeon just beginning? For all this time I’ve only ever had a core room. Mind you it’s a wonderful core room filled with horrifying undeads who will claw apart anything that enters, but my manna field eats anything that enters it, so there’s not really much I can do to build or decorate a greater dungeon area, but with the soul tethers there’s nothing stopping me from expanding outwards, building walls and fortifications upwards, or perhaps even digging down too. I casually mention to some of my closer skeletons that we should dig some stuff out after the construction is over. I don’t need to feel constrained and can begin designing an ideal dungeon, or perhaps just letting it all sprawl around me and see what comes of it. I’m not really sure which is better, but it gives me ideas. Ideas and thoughts and more ideas. Too many thoughts, I should consider these, perhaps in nihility?
[Congratulations on reaching level 7]
[Detecting you have been actively avoiding existence]
[You have gained the ability Nihility]
Monkeyfarts. I probably had that coming. Probably a bad ability to test right away too. With my decision having been made for me I move on to survey what we have so far. The first thing I notice is that I have no manna field, no, that’s not right, more specifically my manna field is full of sawdust, twigs, and wood scraps, it looks like they left a pit in the keep where my sinkhole was and used it as waste disposal. The fortress itself is as they’d previously decided. The gate points north, but the trail leading up to it loops around towards Freehaven. The northwestern corner is an armory, the northeast is a forge, the southeast is a meeting and strategy planning room, southwest is a bunkhouse, though I’m not sure if it’s for guests or just to keep up appearances. At the center is a keep with the overflowing pit to my core and a stairway up to a second floor lined with arrow slits, machicolations, and merlons. I note that the entrance to the keep is on the south, opposite to that of the walls, with the outer wall similarly structured, but only half the height of the keep, and only just wide enough for a single person to walk. Something that struck me as odd was that the keep and wall roofs were given folding covers over arrow slits to allow defenders to fire upwards as well. After thinking about it, it made sense. I mean unlike earth it’s probably more likely to face flying attackers here, but I doubt I would have thought of it. Maybe it’s better I wasn’t involved. The whole fortress was also whitewashed presumably with some degree of fireproofing, perhaps something as simple as a layer of clay.
Underneath the surface several mining tunnels span in seemingly arbitrary directions, like roots spanning out from a central node. Much like the trees from above, many fragmented rocks are piled up around my manna field, with neatly piled cut stones further off. Ironically it seems that the connection to the surface is completely cut off by this buildup of loose debris of wood and stone on either side, making them unable to bring any cut stone up. Likewise while it seems a number of wooden support structures were roughly cut and stockpiled below, it does not seem that more can be brought down, so they are being used sparingly. I wonder for a moment if it would be better to have more surface connections, or if they would create further vulnerabilities. As the tunnels stretching outwards are mined they are shaped with defensive fortifications which only point outwards, making it easier to retake and harder to defend lost segments and easier to defend and harder to take structures for any invading force. For example secondary corridors with murder-holes were dug alongside tunnels with entrances facing towards my core. Another example would be walls, half the height of a man, carved to facing outwards with divots for defenders to stand behind and a smooth path from the rear line to the top of them, where defenders could simply run past and jump down while attackers would be forced to hoist themselves up over as they advanced. I noticed that there seems to be allot more freedom to shape the defenses in three dimensions when excavating them rather than building them from the ground up, but I also can’t help but worry to what extent magic may invalidate these defenses.
Lastly I see that along the surface a veritable maze has been constructed simply by felling trees in such a way that they impede travel, which I note done through a vaguely spiraling rout. Along this spiraling path several smaller whitewashed wooden keeps have been constructed, of which the outermost seems to be most used by Brice and his own hunting party.
Too much has changed, too much has come too fast, I almost want to recede into nihility again to escape from it, but I know that’s a false solution. By the time I’d awaken again there would only be magnitudes more things for me to grow accustomed to, so perhaps it’s better that I simply soldier on and try my best to come to terms with the changes that have already taken place. It seems Johnathon has gathered more than a little knowledge about the world at large and dungeons, but first thing’s first, I never got around to asking him what political structure the cult has. As it happens he’s gathered allot more for me than that. Speaking of, how is he still making the trades without access to my manna; oh right, death crystals, alright.
The cult itself seems to be a loose coalition of powerful individuals and organizations. There are a handful of advantages and disadvantages to a coalition, it’s easier to find members since there’s less commitment involved, likewise the greater degree of freedom afforded to members allows them to generally prosper and fail individually leading to a greater degree of overall stability and prosperity. On the other hand that vary same freedom lends itself to disunity as each member state pursues its own goals without needing to be overly concerned about how it effects the rest of the organization. In the example of a death affinity magic cult this might mean some members go around on murder-sprees animating legions or just gathering the corpses, which could certainly attract negative attention from others.
Speaking of which, it’s a bit tangential, but it seems death affinity manna is naturally occurring, primarily in cemeteries, though it generally takes at least a million years for a single skeleton to animate, though more being in close proximity allows for that death affinity manna to be absorbed by a single corpse. Theoretically this means a mass grave with a million corpses in it could animate one skeleton per year, but in actuality the first to animate begin drinking in the death attribute manna to grow. While animated corpses do produce more than regular corpses it tends to require a certain sort of spiteful strategic planning and one of the initial animated to take control and enforce the animation of all for an entire lichyard to actually animate. These animations are made rarer still by necromancers regularly going around stealing attributed manna from anywhere an undead might appear. Likewise other groups act to purify the land of such manna, so it’s decidedly uncommon to get undeads anywhere that hasn’t been long abandoned. Furthermore as these undeads would be more akin to number one and two than to my own undeads, it would take a vary long time before they even had the intelligence to act independently, so most risen undeads in civilized lands are found simply laying in the ground unbothered by the world.
Back to political hierarchy. Te local chapter of our death cult seems to be a democratic republic as they’d elected Fra-La as a leader, but there’s a bit about that which doesn’t quite fit. Firstly there seem to be several members who simply fancy her and will vote for her blindly. Likewise she has evolved into an icon or mascot by now as one who both reveals her face freely and has more knowledge of death affinity magic than most if not all present. This partially derives from her status as one of the promising disciples of Ra-Lo, giving her access to a whole wizards tower of secret archives. Sharing this knowledge strategically among her following has led to almost frenetically reverence towards her by some. In some ways she reminds me of a theocratic dictator in this regard, but the local cult does seem to have voluntary membership where people can freely leave if they dislike it, so I suppose that serves to curtail her power if only in part. I would like to think that would mean that people wouldn’t feel the need to risk their lives if she asked, but I know better than to underestimate zealots.
Another tangent, the cult choir sings nearby to my abode every three days, and I now know why! Firstly the reason they sing at all is because the death attribute manna that slipped out was absorbed by the native wildlife, and while most died in the aftermath, some survived, mostly grasses with two bushes. It seems they generate faint traces of death attribute manna over time, much like the mysterious cloaks’ suspected death troll presumably does, the ritual serves to draw in and focus this manna, ripping it out of the plants themselves. This ritual is done on the third moon because it has similar associations, moreover it seems like all the moons of this world have magical connotations, with ten moons in total. I suspect however that these moons are not in fact large bodies of stone rotating the planet. This is because of a weird story Fra-La told to Johnathon. Presumably moons have been created and destroyed by sufficiently powerful mages, and the last one to notably influence them was an archmage who changed their orbital cycles. Namely he made the first moon cycle through a full lunar cycle every week, the second every two weeks, the third every three weeks, all the way through the ninth moon which completes a lunar cycle every nine months, but the tenth moon he made cycle randomly with no predictable pattern. Apparently nobody is sure why he did this, though I’m suspecting he’s just an autistic frogfootedbadgersnake that couldn’t keep his magical moon-grabby hands to himself. Honestly I’m pretty sure I understand magic less after this lesson than I thought I did before it, but relevant to us is that darker magics of shadows, pain, despair, and death tend to use the third moon. How do they use the third moon, what is the third moon, how can we use this? I have no idea, presumably the moon being more full will make the magic more potent and give it an advantage when clashing with opposing magics, but this doesn’t always apply within enclosed fields, which only makes me more frustrated at having learned it.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
It seems esoteric knowledge about dungeons, me dungeons not trapped tomb dungeons, is sparser than I would have hoped. It sounds like most dungeons are raised in captivity and often when they aren’t they’ll either send unending waves of monsters out of them to attack cities until they are destroyed, or they’ll devour everything around them sinking endlessly into the ground. The latter presumably ends up similarly badly for them because after boring endlessly extending giant cones through the stone for years on end, there is often an earthquake of some kind which seals the ground as if there was never a gaping conical void in it. That just happens to be the right amount of horrific unknown mixed with world bending power to make me think that they might fall right into the underworld and meet some pissy cathuluesque god that yeets them into oblivion so that it can sleep. That may be far out guesswork, but it does sound less crazy than some of the things I know are real, right? Right? Okay, maybe not, but it certainly goes on my nope list. Apparently it does rearrange the map slightly though, so some leaders opt to build towers that do this intentionally as some kind of dungeon based terraforming, generally taking advantage of the span in which there’s a conical hole as a barrier to minimize invasions from that side until they’re ready to deal with things.
Apparently levels one, two, one zero, half zero, and maybe a one zero zero are important to dungeons, I suspect that these may be the levels I need to reach for my undeads can evolve since that’s all that really seems unique to level one and two so far. It seems that your levels use your own number system too so for me that would be levels one, two, ten, fifty, and maybe a hundred, but for a native it would be levels one, two, twelve, seventy two, and maybe a hundred and forty four. Additionally I may have messed up leveling up, it sounds like the abilities I gain might be more important, or at least defining, than I thought. It sounds like the first, in my case, ten abilities you gain are a single word in length, and the next, in my case hundred, are two words in length incorporating one of the first, in my case ten. Theoretically this means someone with a base one number system would be able to level up far faster than any of us, but with so few abilities that they may well end up next to useless outside of an extremely niche specialty, presumably there are cultures like this. Likewise a nation with a base one hundred number system would forever be stuck as generalists with more specialties than is practical and would almost never advance into any specializations of true utility. I honestly don’t know how I feel about this. I feel like I should be feeling regret over a lost opportunity to control my fate in this, but honestly both of those extremes sound stupid in their own way. Base ten, or in the locals case twelve, may well be preferable. On the other hand I’m starting to deeply regret the collection of insults that it seems will continue to shape my growth, forever, without me being able to truly escape them. Moreover, at one zero it seems the ability that dungeons get is locked on a certain one, which means I only have two left to ‘choose’ as it were through my actions.
Lets review what I have before we get into that. My first ability is uncontrolled, which in hindsight is probably better than it could have been given the general slave status of my race, but if you made a two word ability with that wouldn’t that give me no control over what it does? Is that bad after all? The second is inhospitable, which likewise sounds negative, what would that even give me, terrain mods with inhospitable heat and inhospitable cold, inhospitable jungle? I’m not sure but I can’t help but feel it’s more negative than helpful. The third being voyeur only enforces my general feeling of dismay. Regimented could be good, could be useful, maybe I’ll get a regimented diet that forces me to eat my vegetables or maybe it will make my days each the same as the last extending the torture I once found in this dark void. Linked is probably the most positive, linking things is just more contentedness, networking or perhaps linking locations, times, fates? That would be cool but I somehow doubt that it would be so extreme. Maybe I’ll take on more of a support role coordinating and connecting people where they need? Embezzlement just feels slimy and embezzling something in particular will likely be just as sketchy, and while nihility should probably have been expected I don’t think it’s too useful to have it as an ability so long after it’s already become a routine. In a way it’s kind of disappointing. That gives me what, one or two good ones out of seven? Apparently I could have gotten something like mines or treasure or forestry instead which only deepens my feeling of regret given that there would have been so so much room for resource manipulations and get rich quick schemes if I could actually create riches and resources. Still have two slots left, gotta aim for the skies.
The more standardized dungeon ability is not bad either, cloning. Presumably it allows a dungeon to create fragments, the infant form of dungeons. These fragments will be of the same affinity as the dungeon that birthed them, but will be level capped at the mother dungeon’s level, and pushing to that level will cause the two dungeons to link and battle forcing the mage to fight for their life to defend their tower. It’s a bit frustrating that all of this comes from the perspective of mages. Presumably it’s not at all odd for a mage of Ra-Lo’s caliber to be able to get dungeon fragments, which mages raise into dungeon cores through their own manna, making them controlled dungeons. Interestingly it seems mages actively avoid announcing their ownership of a dungeon or status as dungeon masters, a status similar to a tower mage, until they gain cloning. This is because if they raise two dungeons of the same type through their power, they can cause the weaker to reach the same level but prevent the two from fighting. This presumably allows them to force either side to yield, instantly allowing the other to gain all advancement and resources of the other. This is a rather minor thing for the mage, but what’s really important is that this is widely regarded as the simplest means by which to move a dungeon core, instantly teleporting it over an unlimited distance. This is considered the ultimate fail safe of a dungeon mage, allowing them to safeguard their assets any time they are forced to flee. It’s frustrating not knowing how applicable this would be to me. Anything that can better my odds of survival would be good, but the combative nature of this fail safe makes me worry that this might be a double edged sword, just as likely to end in my ruin, particularly if I create a fragment that falls into the hands of a mage more powerful than myself.
Apparently I’m not the only one who’s frustrated that my only source of information about dungeons comes from mages. The mages too are frustrated by what they consider grand mysteries that cannot be easily comprehended. The foremost among those is how uncontrolled dungeons do some weird reality bending thing they do that apparently restricts everything.
Another is why dungeons are mad. Not angry, but rather off the wall psycho. I feel like I might have the answer to that one though I’m not sure. Being trapped alone in a dark void for untold ages, the only way I retained any resemblance to sanity was by forsaking my sanity long ago, praying for death, meditating to find the state of nonexistence that was created expressly to end such endless torments. I still sometimes wonder if this world is a hallucination, if these are just demons seeking to torture me, if it would be better if I just turned silently from this world. I wonder if others might be driven to slaughter out of vengeance, or if killing somehow makes it all more real, if they need that affirmation in their lives, or if they see no point and just continue on acting in ways that seem entirely nonsensical to a whole mind. I would like to see myself as sane, I would like to say I have my marbles together all in one place and that they’re not rolling loose, I would like to say I am a well adjusted dungeon that won’t go on a wild murmurer or otherwise seek to devour the world, but, but, nihility beckons. That silent void in the back of my mind, the missing piece in who I am, the nonexistence that I once sought to embody prevents me from claiming true sanity. How can I call myself well adjusted when I hardly remember the decades of my life, when I’ve hardly even lived them, when a single conversation carries with it a crushing weight of things that my mind intuitively seeks to reject. How can I watch rabbits frolic and flowers bloom when all I’d ever want from them is for it to end, for it to happen so that I could soak it in so that I would not be alone, but also for it to end so I could be alone, so I could have peace from the endless chaos that existence seems to embody? How could any dungeon be sane? Rather, if that’s the truth, if that’s really the reason dungeons are as crazy as they are, I fear that the most sane seeming dungeons would be the least sane in actuality. What kind of person can step through that and come out unchanged? What kind of screwed up mind would walk through that and embrace it as normal? Perhaps I’m biased asa human, maybe a plant could come through it unchanged, maybe a rock, but I… I don’t know.
I probably shouldn’t work myself up like that, maybe that too is the madness of dungeons.
Another mystery mages struggle with is why dungeons take to the skies. This one is perhaps the least fascinating of mysteries, simply because mages also tend to like the sky, their towers stretching unending towards the heavens they assume it may just be apathy or boredom. The growth of mage towers itself however is a somewhat separate phenomena. The great cycle of life as Fra-La liked to think of it. Dungeons generate endless quantities of manna, but so do all things, or more specifically souls do. Dungeons are in essence just a race with naturally giant souls. While souls be they dungeons, large groups of any given race, or even the accumulation of wildlife wandering through untamed lands, all serve as sources of manna producing it in great abundance. Mage towers on the other hand are manna sinks, they draw in manna from the surroundings. Souls do too of course, breathing it in and using it to form and grow their souls as they grow and levels up, but towers do so to do magic. Sure, the mages within level up, but the vast majority of the lost magic does not go to their own souls but rather is lost as matter in the world around them. Some spells form into air, dispersing into the skies, others heat or water, sometimes even stone, but water flows down, and dungeons exist downwards, this is why the sky is not blue, this world is not dominated by great oceans the way my world was, because sooner or later a great ocean flows into a dungeon and is lost to the world. Instead the sky reflects the endless vegetation of the world. Often towers are constructed to capture and structure this excess in hopes of further minimizing loss, and the result is that the more manna is used, the more manna is lost, the more a mage’s tower will grow. There are a whole class of spells meant to help adjust for this, some will disperse the growth into the surroundings periodically, or to separate and relocate a portion of the tower to be given as a mundane defensible battlement by those with lower levels, but it is because of this loss that mages often say “the world only ever grows.”
In truth it’s all but impossible to verify if this is truth, theoretically a dungeon could eat the world faster than mages could build it, and some optimists believe it must be so, optimists because when a dungeon dies a great many levels are gained and a great deal of manna is released back into the world. To mages there would be no better fate than for all that they see as waste and loss to be turned into bountiful resources anew. Nevertheless evidence tends to point towards expansionist theory with evermore land housing evermore souls leading many to theories that the world is truly infinite as the ends may be growing away from you faster than you can travel. Fra-La finds this notion romantic, but apparently Ra-Lo dismissed this theory as nonsense even though he was unwilling to explain further. Fra-La dejectedly suspects it may be some secret that he knows rather than just the stubbornness of an old man but I’m not so sure.
Apparently attributed manna is worth more than the unattributed manna I need, but we wonder at the feasibility of trading given my the innate difficulty in moving me, the sheer quantity that would need to be exchanged, and the cost of the mediums through which it would need to be transported and apparatuses necessary to drain it. Take for example my death crystals, they can hold one base unit of death attributed manna, but cost me a full twenty five to create. Moreover what I see as one base unit would be close to ten thousand imperial standard units, which is apparently a quantity rarely traded outside of tower mages. The whole thing gives me a headache, figuratively of course.
Johnathon was nice enough to give me more political updates to break me out of my lamentations. It seems our Freehaven neighbors are communists! This seems odd to me since I saw plenty of coin change hands through the Mysterious Cloaked Wanderers Association, but apparently it’s just that, the villages and city are themselves communist communes governed through direct democracy, and money changes hands between them as a collective and the outside world, with the Mysterious Cloaked Wanderers and a handful of merchants being their primary connection to the outside world. Part of me wants to raise my flags and make a stand about how communism has a tendency to centralist power too far leading to tyranny, how in direct democracies the majority tend to become tyrannical, perhaps even to complain about the logistical impracticality of both systems! Instead I will begrudgingly admit that in small populations, generally tens to perhaps a hundred or two individuals max, such systems can be functional and efficient, neighborly bonds preventing anyone from being too overly harsh on each other. I am also forced to begrudgingly accept that magic might make it easier to enact such a system. I still doubt its functionality at a larger scale, but perhaps for the two thousand or so residents of Freehaven it might not be the worst system, until it is at which point I will begin parading about how bad those systems are! The existential threat of giant monsters that want to eat them probably also helps with unity now that I think of it.
My attention is slowly drawn away, something’s flashing at me in the void. Nothing ever flashes at me in the void, well except maybe the white text.
[Notifications: 1]
That’s new, since when has the white text ever cared to announce incoming notifications in advance, or shown any kind of consideration ever? I focus on the prompt and watch as it changes.
[The Dungeon of Blood has sent the collected memories of the dungeon of goblins.]
[Message sent to all dungeons within 5447426 km, would you like to view?]
[yes] [no]
I hesitate, and remarkably the text does not disappear on me while I do. Something’s odd, is it because it used kilometers of all things instead of miles, or knots, or washing machines, or bald eagle wingspans? No, it’s something else, someone’s trying to get my attention. I pull my focus from the notification to find who. Vance is topside with one and two, bringing more twigs to the pit in the keep. Johnathon is farming. Brice is sailing through the air head first, oh, wait, no, he’s riding a mount while chasing some kind of pig thing. Sure it has testicles instead of tusks and pale glowing orbs instead of eyes which periodically drift out of its head, but it looks mostly like a pig, and he’s far too focused on his pig to be trying to get my attention. I wonder who. My focus wanders before it settles on a skeleton I don’t know the name of who’s standing in knee deep water watching a massing incendiary orange cloud grow at the end of the tunnel. The glow is far away, but deeply perturbing. Than I see a twitch of movement. A danger stone shifts ever so slightly.
Is that, could that be connected to this? Warily I eye the notification. I don’t like this, I don’t like this one bit.
[The Dungeon of Humans has sent a message.]
[Message sent to all dungeons within 5447426 km of the Dungeon of Blood, would you like to view?]
[yes] [no]
There's a dungeon of humans? Somehow this is only making me feel more and more concerned about whatever is happening here.
[Yes]
[Disregard prior message, the Dungeon of Blood has bad intentions.]
That sounds purposely vague and obtuse enough that it's likely intended to reassure me without letting me check out these memories. It plays into my paranoia so nicely that I may well have accepted it. After all who knows what kinds of tricks one cam pull with Vulcan mind meld nonsense like memory sharing, except, well, something's clearly happening with my neighbor and I need to know what if I'm to defend myself against whatever comes next.
[Yes]
Immediately I find myself thankful that my larger soul allows me to think faster to cope with the expedited information flow.