It's some time before you can bring yourself to leave the grove. The moonlight on your closed eyelids is cool.
It's not until the soft sound of feet crushing grass intrudes on your solitude, that you open your eyes and turn around.
Mercy has stopped, a few paces behind you. Her weight is on one leg, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. You meet her eyes, red to green. Her shoulders slump a little. Without a word, she walks around you, deeper into the grove. You can see her, leaning against her bonded tree before the mass of bark writhes and she seems to fall into it.
You leave shortly after.
Moonlight, real moonlight, hits you as you round the corner into the arena, making you flinch. The moon hangs, low and full, perfectly framed in the entrance to your lair. It seems to fill the space, the white blue of night flickering around the corners of your vision.
You run, wings half unfurled to let you glide, in a mad dash to the workshop. One of the kobolds is working, sleepless, but you push him out of the way, slamming your hands into the unfinished door. The progress bar leaps up with each blow, and long before your anxiety is spent an imp swoops in, taking the completed blueprint away.
You don't move until you hear a thud, and a creak.
You hit accept, more out of habit than thought, and leave room.
The entrance hall is dark, lit only by a handful of flickering torches. Wooden doors, bound in iron, block the archway to the outside. There's no visible locking mechanism but... they'll do.
You crawl into the small side cave and collapse, exhausted.
It takes some time for your mind to calm enough to sleep.
You wake. It's dark. Too dark. The torches are gone. Still half asleep, you reach for the entrance to the hallway. Maybe a goblin put them out by accident? But your questing claws find only stone. You spit a shower of sparks. The doorway is gone. Behind you, the passageway gone too. The cave looms over you, ever smaller, the stone pressing against your back until you are -
You wake. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. The grass under your feet feels so good. The sun beets down on your stretched wings. Your eyes snap open. Forest stretches around you. And a notification hangs in the air. 'Mini-boss left lair! You have been temporarily given the designation “Wandering Boss”'
You wake. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. But it's dark. Too dark.
A nightmare. Just a nightmare.
“Red!”
Someone is shaking you. Your eyes are bleary, your body feels like you've been run over by a bull. The sound of a ringing bell just adds to your confusion.
“Red! Wake up! We're under attack!”
Under attack? We're under attack? We're under attack!
Your eyes snap open. The ringing . You roll to your feet, pulling a surprised exclamation form Sapphire as she leaps backward.
“How many? When?”
“We don't know yet – Everyone was woken up by a noise but you. The doors – come look!”
She dashes from the cave and into the entrance hall. The doors that you placed... the Dungeon Entrance... is glowing, white light seeping out from within. Picked out in the light are words.
The numbers tick down. A countdown.
What..? Why..? Do all dungeon's get this?
The whole lair is gathered in the entrance hall, staring at the numbers as they fall. The goblins cluster around Feathers, the kobolds around you – no, around Sapphire. The imps hover around Mercy.
The Oread is nowhere to be seen, and part of you is grateful. You don't want that particular secret getting out any time soon.
“Sapphire! Organise your kobolds back there,” You point toward the back of the entrance hall, “Feathers, take the goblins into the cave, attack them in the rear. Try and keep them quiet until then.”
The gobliness and kobold both nod and start barking orders.
“Amanda, what's your spell list like?”
She shakes her head. “Not good. One spell, ranged attack.” She's terse, cutting her words out, eyes locked on the timer.
“Hang back. Get as many hits as possible. We want levels for you.”
The necromancer nods too, stepping half behind the archway into the pool room and pulling out the bone amulet. It starts to glow a sickly green.
Mercy meets your eyes. “It's too late for me to war-form. I have support spells.”
You consider it for half a second – Mercy is a powerful defensive combatant with a range of debuffing spells... But she's better in her wooden armour.
“No. Go, now. You can jump in if we need to turn the tables.”
She hesitates, then nods, running deeper into your lair. The imps that were following her hover, hesitancy whit large on their small faces.
“Ranged magic?” They nod. “Stay back. Stay up. Support the others.”
And then there was one.
You work well with Sapphire but... you glance over. She's sat astride Hyena, the kobolds arrayed around her. She's trained with them, not you. You trust Feathers but she too has taken to a commanders role like a duck to water. Even knowing where to look, her goblins are nothing more than glinting eyes in the darkness.
You step back, until you're level with Amanda.
You'll step in if you're needed. You're probably the most agile front line fighter you have.
The numbers begin to blink, flashing lights spilling across the floor and sending twisting shadows up the walls.
The clinking of metal on stone from Jack. The creak of flesh shifting in leather from Willow. Sounds fade away as your blood begins to roar in your ears.
Your breath is hot and heavy as smoke gathers in your throat.
The very air in your lair seems to be writhing in anticipation.
Memories of Amanda, collapsing to the floor with blood pouring from her back, force their way into your mind's eye. You force them back.
A huge thank you to my patreons NA, Spockk Kirkk, Un Casualsniper, Tyrant615, Jakelandiar, Curious Krissy, Torish 12, CBK and Ted.
It's some time before you can bring yourself to leave the grove. The moonlight on your closed eyelids is cool.
It's not until the soft sound of feet crushing grass intrudes on your solitude, that you open your eyes and turn around.
Mercy has stopped, a few paces behind you. Her weight is on one leg, her hip cocked and her arms crossed. You meet her eyes, red to green. Her shoulders slump a little. Without a word, she walks around you, deeper into the grove. You can see her, leaning against her bonded tree before the mass of bark writhes and she seems to fall into it.
You leave shortly after.
Moonlight, real moonlight, hits you as you round the corner into the arena, making you flinch. The moon hangs, low and full, perfectly framed in the entrance to your lair. It seems to fill the space, the white blue of night flickering around the corners of your vision.
You run, wings half unfurled to let you glide, in a mad dash to the workshop. One of the kobolds is working, sleepless, but you push him out of the way, slamming your hands into the unfinished door. The progress bar leaps up with each blow, and long before your anxiety is spent an imp swoops in, taking the completed blueprint away.
You don't move until you hear a thud, and a creak.
You hit accept, more out of habit than thought, and leave room.
The entrance hall is dark, lit only by a handful of flickering torches. Wooden doors, bound in iron, block the archway to the outside. There's no visible locking mechanism but... they'll do.
You crawl into the small side cave and collapse, exhausted.
It takes some time for your mind to calm enough to sleep.
You wake. It's dark. Too dark. The torches are gone. Still half asleep, you reach for the entrance to the hallway. Maybe a goblin put them out by accident? But your questing claws find only stone. You spit a shower of sparks. The doorway is gone. Behind you, the passageway gone too. The cave looms over you, ever smaller, the stone pressing against your back until you are -
You wake. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. The grass under your feet feels so good. The sun beets down on your stretched wings. Your eyes snap open. Forest stretches around you. And a notification hangs in the air. 'Mini-boss left lair! You have been temporarily given the designation “Wandering Boss”'
You wake. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. But it's dark. Too dark.
A nightmare. Just a nightmare.
“Red!”
Someone is shaking you. Your eyes are bleary, your body feels like you've been run over by a bull. The sound of a ringing bell just adds to your confusion.
“Red! Wake up! We're under attack!”
Under attack? We're under attack? We're under attack!
Your eyes snap open. The ringing . You roll to your feet, pulling a surprised exclamation form Sapphire as she leaps backward.
“How many? When?”
“We don't know yet – Everyone was woken up by a noise but you. The doors – come look!”
She dashes from the cave and into the entrance hall. The doors that you placed... the Dungeon Entrance... is glowing, white light seeping out from within. Picked out in the light are words.
The numbers tick down. A countdown.
What..? Why..? Do all dungeon's get this?
The whole lair is gathered in the entrance hall, staring at the numbers as they fall. The goblins cluster around Feathers, the kobolds around you – no, around Sapphire. The imps hover around Mercy.
The Oread is nowhere to be seen, and part of you is grateful. You don't want that particular secret getting out any time soon.
“Sapphire! Organise your kobolds back there,” You point toward the back of the entrance hall, “Feathers, take the goblins into the cave, attack them in the rear. Try and keep them quiet until then.”
The gobliness and kobold both nod and start barking orders.
“Amanda, what's your spell list like?”
She shakes her head. “Not good. One spell, ranged attack.” She's terse, cutting her words out, eyes locked on the timer.
“Hang back. Get as many hits as possible. We want levels for you.”
The necromancer nods too, stepping half behind the archway into the pool room and pulling out the bone amulet. It starts to glow a sickly green.
Mercy meets your eyes. “It's too late for me to war-form. I have support spells.”
You consider it for half a second – Mercy is a powerful defensive combatant with a range of debuffing spells... But she's better in her wooden armour.
“No. Go, now. You can jump in if we need to turn the tables.”
She hesitates, then nods, running deeper into your lair. The imps that were following her hover, hesitancy whit large on their small faces.
“Ranged magic?” They nod. “Stay back. Stay up. Support the others.”
And then there was one.
You work well with Sapphire but... you glance over. She's sat astride Hyena, the kobolds arrayed around her. She's trained with them, not you. You trust Feathers but she too has taken to a commanders role like a duck to water. Even knowing where to look, her goblins are nothing more than glinting eyes in the darkness.
You step back, until you're level with Amanda.
You'll step in if you're needed. You're probably the most agile front line fighter you have.
The numbers begin to blink, flashing lights spilling across the floor and sending twisting shadows up the walls.
The clinking of metal on stone from Jack. The creak of flesh shifting in leather from Willow. Sounds fade away as your blood begins to roar in your ears.
Your breath is hot and heavy as smoke gathers in your throat.
The very air in your lair seems to be writhing in anticipation.
Memories of Amanda, collapsing to the floor with blood pouring from her back, force their way into your mind's eye. You force them back.
A huge thank you to my patreons NA, Spockk Kirkk, Un Casualsniper, Tyrant615, Jakelandiar, Curious Krissy, Torish 12, CBK and Ted.
