Shining brightly overhead, sunlight streamed through the conifers shading the Lair’s hidden grotto. Beams illuminated the shallow pool at the center of the glade, sending reflections across ferns and tree trunks. Breaking the quiet like a toddler stubbing a toe, Polly began squawking in panic and flying circles around Grumblebark’s canopy. She even managed a broken “He-Heeeelp!” and “Chas-ing me!”
Snapping out of a fugue of introspection at the screams of panic, the Lair hurriedly focused their attention on the commotion. Before they could focus in on what was really happening, the exuberant caws and chirps of small griffins in pursuit calmed any encroaching anxiousness. The playful group circled Grumblebark a few times, undoubtedly trying to rile the denizens of his foliage, but went back to weaving in between the pines near the griffin nest.
Over the last couple of weeks, this clearing had become comfortable and familiar. The temporary shelter was transformed into a defensible home through the efforts of the tribe. Scurrying about in an extensive tunnel network that reached to the boundaries of the Lair’s domain downwards, the huge ants stockpiled leaves and other edibles. Almost every tree had groups of birds, griffins, and climbing creepy-crawlies. Dominating the center of the clearing resting at the edge of the pond, lowing and snoring, the catoblepas basked in the mid-day warmth.
Joining these familiar creatures were a few new additions to the family, only one of which appeared to have decent long term prospects. In between summoning countless small fish, insects, squirrels, rabbits, and other small forest dwellers came a truly remarkable addition:myrmidons. On first glance, the Lair had simply assumed that more myrmekes had joined their forces, based on the reaction of the giant ants. Practically erupting from their tunnels, the insects piled over the fresh arrivals.
Black-brown carapaces roiled in a mass at the main entrance to the lower levels. Antennae, legs, and pincers flailed in all directions until gradually the myrmekes backed away and gave the new pair of summons some space. Standing finally to their full height, the myrmidons dumbfounded the Lair for a moment.
The Lair hadn’t truly expected to create any truly sentient beings for some time, however a spark of understanding shone clearly in the beady black eyes of the myrmidons. Each stood roughly at the height of an adult human being. Gracefully stroking her long black hair, the female quickly braided the strands and stretched languidly. That was when the Lair took note of her form. A myrmidon was the combination of dwarf and ant in the same manner that a centaur was a combination of human and horse.
Beginning at their torsos, each of the myrmidons had an impressive humanoid physique, their bodies toned and sturdy. The male sported a shock of thick auburn hair and beard, in comparison to the female’s ravenesque locks. Unsurprisingly, the pair was completely nude.
Fluidly merging with the upright torso was a horizontal myrmekes like body, undoubtedly containing the same strength as their kin. Four legs sprouted from a single dark brown bulbous carapace. On the top of their heads, each of the myrmidons had antennae that were twitching as they spoke with their cousins in a soft rhythmic buzzing sound. The speech was rapid paced, and while the Lair could not understand the words, they could make out the intent and information communicated by the sound.
“You should come see the tunnels!” and “Finally you will be able to tell the big tree to keep roots out of our bedroom!” were two of the most common, but plenty of the lair’s subterranean summons were intrigued by the myrmidon’s hair and appearance as well.
It was all rather curious to witness for the dungeon. A blinking notification finally caught the Lair’s attention, the information contained within helping to explain these new advanced members of the clan.
Quest Title: Peerless Pursuit
Conditions: Focus on ranking up a singular skill for an undisclosed period of time. (Hidden Quest)
Rewards: 2 Skill Levels in focused skill
Penalty for failure or refusal of Quest: None
Do you Accept? Automatic
You have received 2 skill levels in Creation Magic for the completion of Peerless Pursuit.
Skill level up! You have reached level 10 in Creation Magic. You have gained access to new spells!
Spells: Creation Magic (Dungeon)
Level 1:
Summon Trap:
- Type: Instantaneous
- School: Creation
- Sub-school: Dungeon
- Mana Cost: 5 + 10 per level of caster
- Casting Time: 5 minute
- Duration: N/A
- Range: Sphere of Influence, will remain after area of influence is removed
- Components: Local Resources
- Effect: Summon a trap related to your current terrain, alignment, and class. You will be unable to select specifics of this trap and it will be chosen at random. This trap will do damage equal to 1d6 per the caster’s spell level in creation magic when created, i.e. at spell level 3 (skill level 20 – 39) the trap will do 3d6 damage if it successfully hits. Some traps may have additional effects or be inferior to the baseline damage based on chance.
Summon Loot:
- Type: Instantaneous
- School: Creation
- Sub-school: Dungeon
- Mana Cost: 5 + 10 per level of caster
- Casting Time: 5 minute
- Duration: N/A
- Range: Sphere of Influence, can be removed from area of influence
- Components: Local Resources
- Effect: Summon loot related to your current terrain, alignment, and class. You will not be able to select the type or specifics of this loot, it will be chosen at random. The value of this treasure will be determined by the caster’s current spell level.
You have gained an Aspect! You are Diligent! Your recent actions have defined a core element of your personality. You have chosen to earnestly apply yourself to a goal with singular devotion and focus.
Effects: +1 to Orderly Alignment and you receive an additional two hours of skill experience leveling per day before the diminishing returns penalty applies.
Biographical Information:
Name: Lurking Lair
Level: 6
Experience: 25,157
Race: Dungeon
Class: Unavailable – Requirements not met
Alignment: Neutral (+1 to Chaotic, +1 to Bad, +1 Orderly)
Languages: Common, Serpent Tongue
Stats:
Influence: 1,028 ft. radius
Durability: 900/900
Mana: 168/168
Strength: 0
Dexterity: 0
Intelligence: 26
Spirit: 26
Charisma: 11
Luck: 13
Movement Speed: 0
Resistances:
100% Mental Resistance
90% Magic Resistance
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90% Physical Resistance
Aspects:
Gluttonous
Diligent
Skills:
Creation Magic 10, Natural
Combat Tactics 5, Natural
Feeding 1, Natural
Construction 4, Significant
Sub-skill: Simple Structures 4, Significant
Dungeon Loremaster Skills:
Foraging
Grazing
Spells:
Level 0:
Summon Dungeon Monster
Summon Dungeon Familiar
Level 1:
Summon Trap
Summon Loot
Abilities:
Dungeon Essentials: Bind (1), Consume (3), Assimilate (3)
Traits:
Magical Construct: Strength, Dexterity, and Movement Speed set to 0. Constitution stat x100 becomes starting durability score. 90% Physical Resistance, 90% Magic Resistance, and 100% Mental Resistance.
Dungeon Loremaster: Can gain any skill, but can only use dungeon appropriate skills, i.e. magic and knowledge-based skills. Non-dungeon appropriate skills will be gained with no level or aptitude, but can be taught to creatures with high enough levels of aptitude.
Sphere of Influence: Dungeons have mana sense and can perceive all elements within their influence throughout the sensory spectrum. Dungeon influence naturally expands at a rate of 1 radial foot per day.
Ooo! Shiny new toys! I can’t wait to start littering the area with all sorts of spiky things. Finally something to summon that won’t crowd the grotto. It has been getting pretty cozy in here. Not to mention that cycling one spell has been boring as all hell. I could do without the ability to summon treasure, but I get why it’s an early spell.
“Beg your pardon… dungeon, would you like us to engage in any particular task?” The male myrmidon made an opening gesture, stretching his dark brown arm out languidly, while speaking towards the where the Lair’s gem, nestled between Grumblebark’s branches.
The Lair ‘blinked,’ shocked out of their musings, attention immediately drawn to the speaker. Up until this moment, no one besides Grumblebark and the serpent folk had addressed the Lair directly without coaching. Well, I was impressed with myself when I made sentient humanoids, I should have expected them to act like it.
“Ummm… Hi. I am the dungeon, you can call me the Lurking Lair, or just Lair for short. The big ol’ lug of a tree here is Grumblebark, my familiar. I suppose what would be best is if you start to get to know the other members of the tribe. Do you have names? What should I call you?” The Lair sent a pulse of warmth and friendly feelings along with the words.
Almost in unison the pair responded. “We have no names, Lair. As our sire, it is up to you as to what we will be named.” Each of their antennae seemed to twitch as they looked around the glade.
“Gotchya. I was just curious if you had any preferences or not. Since it seems like you don’t, how about Queenie and...” The Lair was about to state the obvious next title, but everything went sideways in a hurry.
Whistling as they flew, amorphous greenish-yellow blobs began splattering across various parts of the glade. Rushing through the glade, a thick cloud of pestilence effervesced from the impact sites of the projectiles, coating vegetation and animals alike. Then came the storm of arrows, dripping with purple liquid and tipped with heavy barbed heads they pierced hides, chitin, and feathers.
Wails of pain, high pitched screams, and a deafening growl echoed through the trees. Hero bolted from his roost above the griffin nest glimmering in the sunlight.The miasma seared on contact with the champion’s glittering iridescent feathers, but he would not be deterred. Snatching a pair of stymphalian birds from the back of a catoblepas they had been grooming with his impressive talons, Hero bounded in a pounce to the shore of the small pool and released them into the water.
The Lair’s disbelief only lasted for a fraction of a second, time seemed to slow as tendrils of information poured into the dungeon’s center. Dispassionate, rational reactions will get you through this. Stay centered, stay calm. It turned out to be simpler than the Lair had thought; there was no rush of adrenaline, increased heartbeat, or rapid breathing to escalate a physical reaction. Sweeping over their influence, they scanned for everything that was out of order and all of the information that they could take in during the span of a heartbeat.
Charging into the range of the Lair’s senses from all sides were the leading edge of the worshipers of Phobos, serpent kin. Hissing and slitheringcut through the tribe’s cries of pain. Various shades of green scales covered their bodies and tails. Like before, some had four limbs, others only two. However, each had a viper’s head and tail. There were too many to count.
Most of the attackers had long spears, wickedly barbed and mounted on long shafts. Interspersed among the spear wielders were sword carriers and shield bearers, but they were far fewer in number. Once they established a perimeter, they suddenly stopped – spears braced.
Spreading from the center of the glade, the sickly fog continued tobubblefrom the blobs. No more arrows followed the first volley. Only a minuscule number of summons had been wounded outright. However, the fog was burning and stinging everything it touched, instilling a contagious panic. The catoblepas whose natural immunity was holding up, were the few unaffected.
Reverberating from the center of the Lair’s pulsing lavender core, a crashing wave of intent, strategic information, and hurried instructions washed over the tribe. This was a full-out assault. The Lair didn’t know what the opposition’s plan was, but it wasn’t to simply do a ‘dungeon run’ and leave.
Everyone form up in the teams from the competition. Defend the tribe! Flashes of direction brought the fliers down from their perches rapidly. Myrmekes dashed into bolt holes, several preparing their modest traps. The chaos of being attacked quickly changing into readiness. Grumble, take my core and throw me into the center of the pond, quick!
The Lurking Lair has mobilized the tribe and issued the edict: Rally
Buff granted to all members – Rallied: +1 to all attacks for the duration of combat.
For once the sturdy familiar moved with haste, uncoiling the bundle of branches that held the purple gem, grabbing it with a branch, and hurling it into the shallow pool. Everything pitched and tumbled, the Lair came to rest in the sandy bottom at the base of the waterfall – the whole world turned upside down.
Shattering branches, eerie slithering, and blood chilling hissing sounded from every direction as the serpents began their charge. A lone catoblepas near the edge, with no hope of grouping in the center, was slaughtered outright as the wicked spears tore massive chunks from it’s body. Searing jets of magic flew from behind the scaled warriors and the bovine exploded. Blood and flesh splattered against leaves and dirt.
A thundering bellow sounded from Ogre, the alpha bovine, as he hurtled towards the attacking mass. Upon nearing the snake-folk bursts of color flew from the lumbering beast, a pair of Stymphalian birds and Polly streaked over the heads of the invaders. Ineffective as they were, Polly’s beak and claws still managed to distract as she wove in between spear-heads and sword blades. Darting to cover Ogre’s flanks, the Stymphalians fired off their gaze abilities before circling back for another pass.
Swinging his long neck back and forth to build up momentum, Ogre lumbered with impressive speed towards the attackers. Grotesque and revolting a massive belch of green vapor streamed from the catoblepas’ mouth as he let loose his breath attack on a particularly unlucky serpent. Horns collided with blades and scales sending splatters of blood to the ground. Ogre’s tail whipped to his other side lashing against armored legs and torsos. His flying companions had finished rounding from their first volley and dove to cover their leader.
Iridescent feathers shimmered in the fading sunlight as the flock erupted in magical explosions. A plethora of radiant multi-colored balls unerringly connected with each of the fliers. When all was said and done, there was nothing left in the air except fizzling motes of energy.
Reigning in a sense of equilibrium had been next to impossible while sinking to the silty bottom of the pond. Everything spun and pitched. Sound inside the water was muted, but the Lair’s sense beyond the pool was being battered by screams, bleats, and whimpers.
I have to get control! I can’t lose everything I have worked for! Pull it together Charlie!!
Resting in the muddy silt, the core ceased moving. Panic and purpose enveloped the Lair’s consciousness. No quick heartbeat or rapid breathing reinforced the surging emotion, but they didn’t need to. The Lair cobbled together their control, closing off all input but sight and information from their troops.
Sudden realization at the loss of two of the named summons almost made the Lair waiver. Perhaps if there had been a greater bond through time and discussion it would have stung worse. Instead the Lair harnessed the loss as fury.
“Grumblebark, don’t you dare move a leaf. You’re my ace in the hole. Either my final strike or my only lifeline.”
Rage and frustration bucked against the command, the pale teal orb seeming to wrench out of alignment. The mental rebuke was harsh and quick, none of the meliae’s ponderous nature tinting the words.
“I will not stand by as my grove is assaulted! My seeds and saplings are being destroyed!”
The Lair wanted to explain, butthere was no time. Calculated regret washed over the core in a disgusting yellow sheen. Cracking from the dungeon center, a shock of compulsion froze the hulking familiar.
I’m sorry Grumblebark, I never wanted to use this ability on you. After the battle, one way or the other, please forgive me.
Reassessing the situation with a scan of the perimeter, the Lair committed to a strategy for counterattack. Charging in recklessly had already proven unsuccessful, but at least Ogre and Polly had bought them time. Suffused with determination and buoyed by hope, the commands rippled from the core outwards. Immediately the screeches and bleats of the disorganized rout silenced.
Myrmekes scurried into the tunnels, using the slowly dissipating gas in the glade as cover. Hero guided the remaining fliers high into the trees with an echoing chirp. Skulking through the underbrush, a small band of monitors, which remained from the Lair’s first days, inched towards the attackers. Sliding through the trees, coils smoothly running over bark, pythons shadowedthe lizards overhead. Pawing angrily at the dusty ground, the catoblepas took position in a half circle around the pond.
Tightening, the circle of serpents inched forward, spears and blades glinting malevolently. No roars, yells, or battle cries sounded. Unsettling hissing wove through the trees, alien and dreadful.
“Sssss… the dungeon ran from usss. We gave it a great ssscrifissse and it provided usss nothing! All who fall will be offeringsss of blood. Ssslaughter everything, ssseize the core. For Phobosss!”
Cold as an arctic breeze, the command froze the dungeon. It was the same speaker from the previous encounter. The snakefolk acolyte’s words confirmed the Lair’s worst fears, this was all or nothing.
Tense silence answered for the Lair’s tribe, holding resolutely to their orders and new positions. Everyone had pulled back into the tunnels or was holding guard at the pond. Skittering nervously along a branch, Hero relayed the first good news the Lair had received during the battle. So far as the griffin could tell, the line of encirclement was only two layers deep. No massive reserve force was ranging outside of the Lair’s sense of influence.
“Everyone hold until Hero gives the signal, then attack with everything you have.”
Now that the scope of the challenge was presented, they had a chance, albeit a small one. Overall, there were an equal number of combatants on each side. The Lair had been on a summoning spree after all. However, the serpents undoubtedly presented greater threats pound for pound. They were higher level, more skilled, and vastly better equipped. The Lair had to rely on the last resort of the underdog: surprise.
Advancing cautiously, the noose of assailants constricted. Weaving through the trees, the enemy closed the gap between them and the defenders. All too rapidly, only the dirt mounds surrounding the pond separated the two forces, thirty feet of relatively open space. Hanging back in the foliage, the second line of attackers aimed bows and brandished glowing staves.
Tension sparked and filled the space. Pawing at the ground, a catoblepas lurched and bellowed. Clumped on the small sandy bank, the meager force presented little threat.
“Hold! Wait for the signal. We only get one shot at this. We will defend our tribe!”
Whistling through the air, more arrows and magical exploding missles sailed overhead of a surging onslaught. The enemy closed with alacrity, only twenty feet of no man’s land remained. Then ten. Grooves sliced through the soft dirt left in the wake of the serpents’ advance.
Bleating nervously, a catoblepas broke into a panic. Eyes crazed and thrashing chaotically, the sudden disruption nearly broke the defenses’ resolve. Bucking with wild abandon, it was quickly separated from the group. Isolated, it was cut down. Only five feet.
The Lair waited, just as the serpents were about to close the final gap, they screamed the command into each summons mind, “Now!”
Myrmekes sprung from tunnels, tossing aside branch and leaf coverings. Chittering with rage, the giant ants poured over surprised warriors. With a deafening round of “Moos!” catoblepas thundered outward, thrashing with their low-slung horns and followed by their stink. Striking against the back lines, the Lair’s own reptiles went to work, biting at the mages and archers. Diving from the pines, Hero led the aerial contingent in deft harassing maneuvers. Fighting for their survival, the tribe surged as one.
Caught off guard, for the first time the snakefolk’s organized line splintered into chaotic pockets of battle. On the ridge, Hero harried two mages with beak and talons, disrupting their casting. Arming themselves with weapons from fallen attackers, the myrmidons waged into battle with ferocity. A quarter of the serpents fell in the brawl.
Organization was an afterthought as the Lair’s attention was pulled in all directions. On the northern front a gap opened in the line. Summons pushed almost to the boundary of the dungeon’s influence and started in on the snakefolk’s flanks. Opposite the breakout, a pack of myrmekes and a catoblepas pushed a band of the attackers back. Shrill sounds, like barking coughs, screamed from the snakes as they fell into a deep pit filled with sharpened stakes.
Parallel to the ridge, on the east, in the tall grass hit and run tactics kept the fight at a stalemate. Overall the fight had turned in the dungeon’s favor. The invasion transformed from a pitched assault to a free-for-all. More accustomed to the terrain of the Lair, the defenders were able to give back more than they took.
We can do this. They’ll break. Just a bit more and I can let Grumble free. I have to know we are going to be victorious.
Hope is a dangerous thing, however. It stirs the heart, providing the ability to do more than one thought possible. However, it crushes that same organ when overwhelmed by a stronger force.
Trumpeting from above, a griffin’s call carried ominous news. A clear transmission of terror was relayed to the core. The flier couldn’t count, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Reinforcements had arrived.
It wasn’t exactly clear what happened next, but the results of the barrage spoke for themselves. Family and foe alike were torn asunder. Severing one of the meliae’s largest branches, a thunderbolt etched a path of destruction through the glad. Before the chunk of once-animated wood hit the ground, more than half of the combatants were reduced to a sizzling heap of corpses.
Bolts continued to rain down for what felt like minutes, but had to have been only a flash. Small fires caught here and there. Blackened myrmekes carapaces littered the ground, strewn in between broken catoblepas pieces and shimmering feathers. Even most of the tunnels collapsed during the strike. Nothing remained of what the Lair built.
Gliding in amongst the carnage, three to four times the amount of snakefolk entered the battlefield to survey their work. Four dressed in long flowing robes, garnered a large berth from the others. Hissing gutterally, one of the priests spoke a loud order in their tongue.
“Sssss… we gave the brood a chansssse. They failed and became sssacrifisssesss to our god. Sssethisss’ offssspring are never good warriorsss. Sssshe isss from the priessstsss line. Now get the core ssso we can leave thisss playsss.”
Holding their staves before them the commanders began a rasping chant. Upon reaching a hair raising crescendo thin orange strands reached out from their weapons. Weaving through the air like gossamer tentacles, they spread out to search. They found the core in a matter of minutes. Not long after the magical thread wove around the gem that a scaled claw latched onto it.
The Lair’s world twisted and turned again. They didn’t know what method of capture that the snakes were going to employ, but instinctively Charlie knew there would only be one more message to send. Sorrow and regret filled the dungeon. They had ripped Grumblebark from their grove and left nothing but destruction in their wake. No grand artifice, no amazing summoned monsters, and no friends.
“Grumblebark, I am sorry. Please, please forgive me for everything. Go find help, if you can. You’re my only lifeline. If you find anyone else from-”
Pure darkness surrounded the Lair. Every direction their senses could reach was empty and barren. Trapped in a senseless void. Alone.