Waking up on a stone slab in a dimly lit room is not something I'd ever experienced before. As I blinked the sleep from my gaze, I couldn't help but feel… off. Especially given, last I checked, my ears were on the side of my head,
not on top. My bust also was pathetic before, and now it very much wasn't. Wincing, I shook off the last vestiges of my minor headache, one that always fluttered around after I drank more than one glass of wine.
Hauling myself off the stone slab, I immediately fell flat on my face, the hooves I had been provided with unfamiliar and quite
annoying. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself off the floor, muttering about damn ROBs putting me in a new body. As I came upright, I realized that something inside me knew how to tense my legs to keep myself upright. I took a quick look at myself.
My hands were… actually kinda rough. Feminine, to be sure, but scarred and callused, and noticeably hairy. That would be a pain in the ass to keep shaven. My legs were human, right up until my knees, where human hair sprouted and grew into thick, pale blue fur until it terminated in a pair of white hooves. I was wearing a
very ill-fitting tunic; it covered me, but was loose around the waist and tight across my chest, then loose again in the shoulders. Also, it was jet black, and belted with a red cord. When I shook my head, blue-gray hair fell across my face, catching on something above it, which threw off the weight of my skull somewhat.
The slab turned out to be an altar, surrounded by long-dead candles and wax drippings. The whole room was dark, the only light coming from a thin strip of white around the edges, where the walls met the stone ceiling. Sconces holding more candles lined most of the walls, while two more flanking the only door held inert glass orbs.
Shrugging, and brushing my hair out of my face again, I walked towards the door, pointedly ignoring the very cult-like setup. It would, after all, be just my silly brand of luck to get involved in an altercation with one fairly quickly. The door was iron-banded wood, and had no handle. It also would not open.
I growled, deep in my throat, then paused as a well of
something shook in the back of my head. Memories not my own, of waving and causing doors like this to open with a flex of will. Feeling somewhat giddy, I focused on the feeling behind the memories, and with a flex of will, I found a toggle in my mind, which somehow connected to the door.
As I activated the toggle, a floating pane of light appeared before me, in a language I did and did not know at the same time.
Validating Credentials…
Auric Match 98.6% - Pass
Soul Match 28.3% - Fail
Memetic Match 87.3% - Pass
Physical Match 78.3% - Pass
Status Updated. Standard Reminder Activated: "Remember what happened the last time we played with soul magic, dammit!"
[Restoration Complete, Lord Grogar. Welcome Back]
[Sanctum Necromata Cowers at your Will once again]
[Status Report]
[Personal Notes]
[Communications]
[Development Screen]
"Wonderful," I said blandly, "I am apparently either a two bit villain or a final boss level villain. Joy of joys. Now let's see…" Trailing off as I focused on the interface, I paged through the status and development screens. We'd see what exactly I had to work with…
[Status Report]
[Core Charge: 12%] [Hourly Charge Rate: 0%] [Currently in Power Save Mode]
[Anchor: None]
[Wards: Functioning, No Breaches]
[Reagent Storage: Empty] [100% Spoilage since last update]
[Food Storage: Empty] [100% Spoilage since last update]
[Treasury: No Changes]
[Cells: Empty] [8 Prisoners have died since last update]
[Communications]
Currently Disconnected; Establish Anchor
Archived Contacts:
Grumble
Hawkmoth
O. Edge
Minion Leader 1
Minion Leader 2
Bray
Oooh, Hawkmoth was an interesting name. I'd have to see if I could scrounge up what this body remembered of them. The rest would also have to be examined at some point in time. Pushing aside the dead prisoners and my abysmal food and reagent storage, I queried the system, looking to establish an anchor
and take what I assumed was a dungeon off of power saving mode. The system, however, simply reminded me that all higher-access functions were locked to the Throne Room.
Blandly staring at the roof in amusement, I queried for directions, and headed in that direction, fully prepared to see a stereotypical evil overlord lair. This time, the door opened at my mental prod, swinging soundlessly open, to reveal a perfectly bland hallway, one which was still pitch black save for the dim light from the ceiling markers- something told me it was the equivalent of emergency lighting, though there was a phrase to turn the full lights on.
Digging through my body's memories, I scoffed, reminding myself to change the key phrase ASAP.
"Let there be light." I deadpanned, already fed up with my body's former ego's hubris. Seriously, god complexes were
boring. The lights came on, revealing a simple stone hallway with a plush red carpet. I followed the carpet, frowning at the sparse layout; apparently, whoever this Grogar was lived alone 90% of the time, and this retreat was his private sanctum; he'd made it simple for its own sake, splurging more on defenses and functionality rather than furnishings or decoration. Minutes later, I stepped up to a pair of double doors, these bound in silver rather than iron, and decorated with rearing goats; with a flex of will, I threw them open.
The room beyond was small, if ornate. Four silver-streaked columns of blue-gray stone matching the rest of the stonework held up a tall roof, enclosing space about the size of a tennis court before a stone throne of the same material. The throne was covered in red and black felt.
Groaning, I made my way up to the throne, carefully checking my memories to see if the Grogar fellow who I now apparently was had any security measure in place before I sat down. The answer was no; since the system recognized me, the whole place was open for my perusal.
Sighing, I sat down, setting about restoring this place to functionality. 12% Mana or whatever capacity was unacceptable, and I wanted to see what shiny toys I had to play with.
The system fully booted up, but I winced at the first message, even as a full map of the dungeon, a single loop of hallways with numerous offset rooms, appeared on-screen.
Status Update: Primary Anchor Destroyed
Secondary Anchor… Offline
Tertiary Anchor… In Storage (Treasury)
Please Consult Development Screen
[Sanctum Necromata Online]
[Status Report]
[Personal Notes]
[Communications]
[Development Screen]
Navigating to the development screen, I pulled it up, then winced at the length of the update.
[Sanctum Necromata]
[Checking for updates… updates found]
[Adding updates… Roomlist 3.24 > Roomlist 15.78]
[19 New Rooms, 834 New Upgrades Available]
Current Stocks:
- 3526 Mana Shards
- 14 Wealth units (52311 stored in Liquid Assets: Treasury)
- 0 Wood Units
- 25 Unworked Metal Units
Current Rooms:
- Throne Room (Command Chair, Overlord's Map, Scrying Pool)
- Core Room (Reinforced, Ley-Line Tap)
- Ritual Chamber (Ritual Stones, Fast-Channel Conduits, Overlord Uplink)
- Shrine of Resurrection
- Library (Anti-Aging Wards, Unseen Servant)
- Master Apartment (Attached Bath, Dining Room, Guest Room, Unseen Servant)
- Kitchen (Unseen Servant, Better Range)
- Enchanter's Lab (Forge, Alchemy Bay, Sealed Alchemy Bay, Conduit Embuer, Examination Room)
- Dungeon (Unseen Warden, Advanced Interrogation Suite)
- Portal Bay (16-capacity uplink)
- Treasury (Bloodsealed Vault)
Critical Tasks:
Reestablish External Anchor [Elaborate - Help - Force Resolve]
Reactivate All Functions (WARNING! Low Reserve Power, 1% consumption p/day) [Force Resolve - Help]
Frowning, I browsed through my memories to get the best idea of what Grogar would have done, and his thought process behind it. I winced as visions of torture, harvesting materials from sentients, and necromancy faded, and instead focused on the more pertinent information; namely, visiting the Core Room, which would allow him to reestablish a ley-line tap… once he found a suitable location. Also, Grogar would have wanted his armor back. Unfortunately, said armor would likely hinder me as it was fitted to his body, not mine. Recounting that, also made me wince; apparently, said armor was also heavily damaged against his final foes, which had necessitated him heading here to recover.
I shrugged. I couldn't accomplish anything till I visited the vault and the core room, one to get a leyline tap and one to establish said tap. Humming cheerfully in a forced manner, I set about my tasks; heading to the vault and obtaining my needed items (and perhaps convert my liquid wealth to wealth units), and establish a leyline tap.
As I trotted back into the corridor, I winced as my memories regurgitated what a leyline tap was. The Anchor was also the method by which a Sanctum was secured to the physical world; without one, my new dungeon was essentially floating in the astral plane, and would outright collapse with me in it if it ran out of power. I'd need to go into the world and secure a location for the anchor. Groaning, I tried to remember what I could do in combat that wouldn't require stuff I was not okay with, and to see if Grogar had any equipment I could use. Given he was evil, I was fairly certain I'd get attacked fairly quickly if spotted by most people.
…something nagged me immediately. Grogar had planned on coming back quickly; even as he'd staggered to the altar, the Sanctum had been fully charged; and it was on power-saver mode. With a quick query, I asked how long it had been since he went to sleep, and I woke up.
Elapsed Time:
80 billion seconds
"Oh how absolutely wonderful! And useless! In days, months, and years please." I growled immediately, respectfully yet forcefully asking my sanctum to provide a more useful measurement of elapsed time.
Elapsed Time:
2537 Years, 3 Moons, 5 Days, 4 Hours, 38 Minutes, 12 Seconds
I nodded. As it should be. I was
not converting 80 billion seconds to years without a calculator, thank you very much. Then, I smirked. Then I stopped smirking. Wonderful, I was probably assumed dead, which was… acceptable. Unfortunately, if anyone was around or even had an inkling of how much of a threat Grogar could be, I would be dead, very, very fast. Shrugging, I consulted my personal notes, embarrassed that it had taken me so long to do so.
[Personal Notes]
[To-do List]
[Targets]
[Enemies]
[Fools who trust Me]
[=!hjdiREAD ME#^&fm*!]
Being the sane person I was, I tapped READ ME first, ignoring the eldritch text. Wouldn't surprise me if Grogar was in contact with- oh for the love of Inari he had contacted Demons.
[Well, let's hope you turn out to be more entertaining than the last schlub.]
[Anyways, you're welcome for saving your life, mortal, and making certain your soul fit in your new shell. Let's see if you can do something with this one.]
[Your new body and the archived memories it possesses has a rep. Make use of it, or don't. Just don't try to live a quiet life, and we'll be cool.]
[Otherwise, I'll just have to make times more interesting myself.]
[Sayonara, sucker.]
"Since I'm assuming you're watching, does this mean I cannot fuck off until I accomplish some nebulous goal?" I asked aloud, tapping on To-Do-List as I spoke. Before the new list appeared, the words of the message shivered as a new line was added.
[Goals are for pussies. I just want you to ACT. If you want one goal, how's this; this guy had a list of enemies. Talk to all of them at least once; the ones which are still alive. After that? I'll be satisfied, since it'll set in motion all the chaos I could want.]
"Fair nuff. I wouldn't mind living an interesting life, just wanna make sure I have a way to get out if needed." I replied, pressing the To-Do-List once more.
[To-Do List]
[Get my Bell Back]
[Conquer the Known World, then find more to conquer]
[Get some competent minions, for once]
[Locate and pillage more sour beer]
[Kill those upstart princesses]
[Upgrade Sanctum, and find a new Anchor point (PRIORITY)]
[Weekly poker game in Tartarus]
Reading the word 'Bell' jolted something inside me. The Bewitching Bell. My/His masterwork; an object forged from Origin materials, capable of stealing the magic of all it was turned upon. Grogar even used it as a training aid, draining his own reserves and forcing them to grow through repeated draining.
Of course, it also had a significant portion of his magic and soul tied to it. When he'd lost it, he'd lost more than half his magical might in one go. Which is why the Princesses were able to kick his ass. Shrugging, I figured I'd burn it if I got it back. Given the horrors it had been used for, I wasn't really in the mood to reclaim it beyond melting it down to forge something else from its ashes. Though a part of me which was Grogar wanted the power back, at least.
I shook my head, and tapped the next item.
[Targets]
[The Rites of Ascension] (Those princesses didn't spring out of whole cloth. Find out how they ascended to alicorn-hood, and modify the method.)
[The Bewitching Bell] (MY BELL. Get it back, before someone puts a spike through my chest or worse!)
[The Crystal Heart] (Aurora's national treasure. Steal it and watch that pretty little 'empire' get covered in snow.)
[Ashblight's Armor] (Rare enough is the dirt-bound fool who manages to seize power. Rarer still that he clashed with Faust and walked away. Find his tomb and figure out how his armor worked.)
[Key of Mare Dun] (I might have my own extra-dimensional fortress, but Mare Dun had a treasury that vanished with the city. Find the city, and loot it.)
[The Source] (Likely a fools' errand, but finding the Source of magic is every wizard's dream.)
I snorted, and immediately began to softly edit the 'targets'.
[Ascension Ritual: I'm fairly certain that this has to do with the Elements of Harmony, if they exist here. Frankly, an academic concern at most.]
[A new relic: Find Grogar's bell and make my own relic. I'd rather not chance a portion of his soul reclaiming my body]
[Ashblight, Research: Figure out if Ashblight's armor actually had anything to do with his power. It could just be a portion, after all.]
[Mare Dun: Research the City more thoroughly. I don't wanna run into the outer gods]
[The Source: Fuck the Source]
[The Gods of Earth: See if I can't figure out a way to commune with Inari, Jesus, or Yahweh. I'd rather worship them over the demons Grogar decided to make a deal with.]
Nodding, I moved onto the next item, filing away the Targets in [Grogar Archive] for future reference if needed.
[Enemies]
[Those Annoying Princesses] (Sunny and Moony need to die soon. Uniting all the herd-bound idiots won't do much now, but will be problematic later.)
[GUSTY] (That bitch stole my Bell, hid it, and then claimed to have banished me entirely when my creations started fading. Kill her publicly.)
[Tirek] (Asshole centaur who was mad I copied his special-snowflake ability, but better. If he wasn't a demon, I'd just kill him and be done with it.)
[Faust] (The princesses' mom. If we ever find out where she is, avoid her.)
[Gaius Redtalon] (Made his reputation off slaughtering my beasts. I should pay him a visit sometime.)
[Fire Lord Torch] (Dragons shouldn't be that big, nor wipe out entire armies with one breath. Show him who the real monster is, as soon as I get the chance.)
[Empress Aurora] (That shade of pink is unnatural. She should die or dye on general principles)
[Lord Sirius] (Wants my head after that cock-up with the tornado. Better off him first.)
[Discord] (Avoid until we have god-killing weapons handy, or figure out how to moderate intake from the Bell. Hope he doesn't leave Pandemonium any time soon.)
Oh joy of joy Discord exists. Time to see if the princesses had entombed him as per MLP canon, which I was almost certainly not in, but hey, happy thoughts! With a simple tap, [Enemies] became [I have to talk to all of them if they're alive] and I hummed a merry tune as I clicked on the next and last item.
[Fools Who Trust Me]
[Obsidian Edge](Wanna-be necromancer and tool. Has a knack for it, at least, but no stomach for the real deal, and he's too trusting of me. A good cats-paw.)
[Mother Hawkmoth] (Changeling Queen, willing to deal. She thinks she's smarter than me, but other than that knows her limits. Willing to bow to force, but works better in a bargain.)
[Grumble] (Dragon. Swore a geas to me, owes me one more favor. Doesn't know I've still got the heart-breaker curse anchored to him. Will have to renew the geas after I use the last favor.)
This one had me frowning. Obsidian likely was dead, unless he surpassed Grogar's expectations. Hawkmoth was likely dead, and I had mixed feelings about her. Grumble, on the other hand. I smirked. I could work with Grumble. He might like knowing that Grogar was gone for good.
Considering the world I was evidently in, I closed my eyes, trying to feel out the magic Grogar was supposed to have. Something told me to ask a question.
"How can you help me, that which connects and binds all to all. How can you help me help others. How can you help me keep those I will inevitably connect to safe?" I whispered, a sad smile on my face.
The response was… strange. Cautious, but not hesitating, as memories filled my mind and power surged within me.
The memories came thick. Grogar knew of twelve major fields of magic, each with different mechanics. He'd dabbled in every single one, but of them all, five were his main focus.
Improvement, seeping into each plate and pauldron, reinforcing and improving, imbuing each enchantment and action with greater force, inexorable, impossible. The Path of the Shield.
Energy, wrought into elements, transformed into flame, into thunder, into frost, sent hurtling towards his foes, cast forth back into the aether. The Path of the Flame.
Knowledge, distilled into lines, a code which could alter the very fabric of reality, writing out what the world should be, in defiance of what was. The Path of the Rune.
Pacts, bargains with Demons, with Eidolon, with Elementals, with Spirits; done in equality or forced upon the unwilling, binding oaths granting authority. The Path of the Sign.
Refinement, coming from the heat of the forge or the glow of gemstones, and the manipulation of properties, distilling meaning from magic into new strength. The Path of the Hammer.
Other, weaker echoes sifted through my mind (
Note, Seed, Bow, Axe, Dagger, Fist, Crown) and some resonated better with me than those five Grogar favored. Seed, Note, and Sign stood out to me personally, though Seed had been Grogar's weakest field.. Quickly, I gauged the ones that had resonated with me the
most, quickly sorting them mentally and physically into groups.
Sign was, as stated, the strongest of those I thought resonated with me. Pacts made increased strength, especially when both parties benefited from them. Interestingly, the Geas on Grumble had been a Sign pact, despite being one between two mortals. I lacked any of Gogar's pacts; probably for the best, since his only 'equal' pacts were with demons, and the rest were forced bindings. Reviewing the memories, I shuddered; Sign also dealt with Necromancy.
Seed was the magic of growth and living things, both plants and animals. While Grogar was dismissive of Seed magic, it seemed to be a form of biomancy and empathy; understanding of the world, and guiding or forcing its creatures into new and beneficial forms. It could also be used to heal. Grogar had made some minor use of it to create flesh golems early in his career before turning to Necromancy, bound spirits, and thralls. I snickered at his lack of sight, and imagined fondly of how Jealous Nihilo would be.
Note was… interesting. Note magic was powerful, the reverse counterpart to Seed; rather than making living things change, Note magic forced changes on the physical world, by imparting emotions to it to bring it to a semblance of life. It was associated with the Faerie, who could sing Joy into a pair of shoes to make them dance, whisper purpose into rocks to make them move, or force want into a coin to make it desirable. As a fun corollary, a Chanter could sing their emotions out to all around them, sacrificing any deception to bring others into harmony with them. That, especially if I wanted to talk to Grogar's enemies, would be important.
Note was not easy to counterfeit in Grogar's time. I couldn't imagine that changing.
All of the arts which resonated with me were more on the soft side, but the other powers Gorgar had cultivated would still be useful. Shield, Rune, and Hammer were all potent in creating and maintaining equipment; essential for me. Flame was a direct combat staple, and Shield could be used to turn ordinary gear into something viable over time.
I shook my head, then headed to the Vault. I should take a look at what I had to work with. A few minutes later I found myself standing before a large steel door embedded in the wall. This one
was secured, since Grogar had sufficient paranoia to keep his relics safe. Oddly enough, rather than a lock or combination tumbler, the front of the door contained a circle of eight bells.
Parsing through my memories, I nodded,
ringing them in the right order; as the ninth note sounded, the doors opened. Rolling my eyes, I strode into the room, quite (amused) annoyed that the Imperial March oppressed even here, in Equestria.
The Armory was fairly well organized. For the most part, it bore a significant resemblance to a standard fantasy treasure room; chests lined the walls and odd trophies stood on shelves or rested within glass cases, while one wall was covered in an array of mounted weapons. Unlike most treasure rooms, there was no massive mound of coins; instead, there was a series of large bins filled with gold and silver nuggets, loose gemstones, and other assorted treasures.
The center of the room, however, was devoted to a single rack upon which rested a set of dark gray armor bound together with red leather and silver studs. The armor, and the hefty axe which rested at its feet, was mangled terribly; parts had been warped by high heat, and significant gaps opened where small plates had been ripped away.
Frowning at it, I tried to remember if melting down both and reforging them into something else would demerit me significantly, keeping it in mind as I browsed, looking for a few specific items. A melee weapon, a bow (and quiver and arrows), a dagger or survival knife, and a set of clothes that actually fit damnit, hopefully with a cloak thrown in.
Passing by the ruined armor, I winced as more foreign memories assaulted me.
Decades spent imbuing the armor with power, channelling his own might into it to resist and turn every blow and spell used against it; only for all but the bones of the enchantments layered upon it withered away from blasts of shining starlight and blazing sunlight. All undone.
The armor was still enchanted, but without the enhancements of Shield or repairs via Hammer, it wouldn't do me much good. Even the metal had been warped into purpose; if melted down, it would be useful only as slag. A pity; it had been very good armor, once upon a time; enough to ward off an assault by two furious demigods. Deciding that it was a frankly lost cause, I made up my mind to slag it, and use the metal for art or something, if I couldn't find a use for it with
Note.
Browsing the armor stored in boxes along one wall, I found three things of note which might be of value. The first was… essentially lingerie. I stared at the thin strips of silk and leather, composed and designed to show off as much skin as possible without crossing into obscene. Oddly enough, Grogar had had it enchanted; it had enough weather resistance charms on it to let the wearer dance in a snowstorm or a volcano at equal comfort. I took it off the shelves immediately, and put it on; I wasn't afraid of showing skin, and the enchantments were absurdly useful. Also, Grogar wouldn't be caught dead in it, so the shock factor may buy me time if I was recognized.
The second discovery wasn't enchanted at all, but was fully covering; a set of dark grey robes, trimmed tastefully with gold thread. According to the memories, this was actually Lady Hawkmoth's spare set, but my new body could fit it perfectly. It was warm, and had a sturdy set of chainmail as a mid-layer between silk and cloth.
The final find was… perplexing. A suit of armor, a heavy long coat with armor beneath and a mail-skirted cap. It looked… solid, and when I assessed it with my new magical senses, I could feel enchantments for quiet movement, elemental resistance, and endurance throughout. Not the best quality, but this had been intended for a warrior-ranger Grogar had been grooming before she turned on him; the armor would fit my new frame nearly perfectly. On it went, overtop my cheating cheater who cheats not!lingerie. They layered fine, though I could tell there were some conflicts between the enchantments; I'd need to see about modifying one or the other if I was going to use them both consistently. Perhaps
Note would allow some temporary harmony between the conflicts? Browsing my memories, I frowned at the lack of response; Note was one of Grogar's weaker fields, but his library might have more.
The weapon racks were fruitful; there was a dizzying array of swords, spears, and hatchets available, most taken from dead foes or put together for practice. Parsing through my memories, I made my choice. I started looking for a sensible battle-axe most similar to the one Grogar used, looking for a short sword and hunting knife to complement them. Instead, my hand hovered over a simple, flanged mace of some silver metal, eyes narrowing at the Light pouring off of it.
My senses pinged at the Mace as I looked closer.
Sign magic; bindings. Grogar's memories recalled taking it off of a Kitsune warrior-monk. Growling at the memory, forcibly reminding myself I wasn't him, I softly touched the mace, looking to see if the monk was similar to the tricksters of lore, or a messenger of the gods, as I was familiar with.
I had considered that there'd be something
inside the mace. What I hadn't considered was that it would be so desperate for attention that it would latch onto my spirit at the first brush of my power.
Fiend-not-fiend-he-is-dead-you-are-not-the-usurper. A feeling of relief and hope surged up my arm.
Slightly baffled, I latched my magic onto the mace, feeding reassuring feelings into it, and through
Note attempted to bear my intentions to it, a soft song on my lips.
Peace-resolve-apologies-alliance?
Yes. The mace flickered, the image of a four-winged bird, pinions ignited with the colors of dawn upon the tip. As it faded, I felt more than heard the mace link to my spirit. The spirit was a benevolent one, in the sense that it stood against fear and terror; thus they stood against those which caused it. I'd have to see about modifying the contract if needed, if only so it was more beneficial to the Sunbird; I had a theory that intent and benevolence had its own rewards.
The array of daggers… was sparse. I mean, there were a lot of knives and daggers; but the vast majority were ritual knives of some sort, many so seeped in old blood or pain to be worthless. I figured they'd make good scrap, and made a mental note to separate them based on metal; at least the pain and suffering that they had inflicted could potentially be used to benefit others…
I eventually found one blade which met my requirements; a heavy seax knife, taken from a Griffon raider. It wasn't enchanted beyond the essentials, but did have enough of a hefty blade to sever sinew, wood, or leather as needed. Given Grogar's distaste for bows, I quickly sorted through my memories to determine if he had any nice ones, double checking with magical senses to see if he did.
None of the bows on the weapon wall were of any use; but my memories guided me to what I could categorize as 'Trophies.' Mounted in a glass case, a sturdy horn recurve bow rested above a quiver of green-fletched arrows. I sighed as I recalled Grogar pulling it from the hands of an elk-horned elf, displaying the trophy to a panicking warband of royal courtiers. Ambushing a Prince on the hunt to demoralize his mother was frankly stupid, given how pissed off mothers tended to get when you messed with their children. Fucking idiot, it would have been better to lay a trap for the whole family. One royal surviving meant a rallying banner and a bunch of martyrs, and in this case, an extremely pissed off mother.
The bow wasn't enchanted with any aids to accuracy or power; the makeup of the bow was enough to give it strength. I turned it gingerly in my hands; it was a beautiful piece. Hopefully, my meager skills would put it to good use.
Finally kitted out, I searched the shelves, following my memories to one of the knick-knack shelves. Beside a shattered sword and a shrunken head, I pulled a short, rune-carved black rod from the shelf. The Anchor Rod needed to be embedded in a place of power; beyond that, a defensible location would be good. That or a highly remote one, if I got lucky. I'd need to make another tap if I was gonna risk that though.
I turned back to the shattered and soon-to-be-scrapped armor, opening the pouches around its waist. I removed two rings and a small amulet on a leather thong. One ring, made of obsidian carved with silver runes, protected against most environmental effects; strong winds, high heat, extreme cold, or more esoteric conditions. The other, a silver ring with a green stone, protected against poisons, venoms, and drugs. The Free Wind pendant would allow me to instantaneously teleport once per day to a preset location. I would have to attune that to my anchor rod's location as soon as I could; or I could leave it attuned to my throne room.
A bit more rooting around later, I picked up a belt pouch with what my mind interpreted as the Handy Haversack enchantment on it; capable of holding twenty-four times its physical size, and would deliver the object I wanted to my fingertips when I reached in. With this in hand, I did a quick search for possible equipment, only to turn up nothing. My memories indicated Grogar used magic for almost every 'survival' task out there.
Once I was fully equipped, I stepped out of the treasury and made my way back to the throne room. Behind the actual throne, I tapped the three spots on the wall which allowed access to a small room containing a tall pillar of black stone inscribed with thousands of tiny runes in gold. The Core flashed slightly as it attuned itself to the new anchor, and readied itself to connect to the land. Briefly, I dug through my memories, trying to see if I could either adjust some settings, or if the dungeon was sapient.
The settings adjustment came easily; between the Core and the Throne, I could alter anything within the confines of the Dungeon's programming. But that's all the Dungeon had; programming. There was no mind behind the words on my screen., which was what I preferred, honestly. I'd rather not have to deal with a sapient being that dealt with and worked for Grogar. Nodding, I smirked as I began to change the settings, making sure to replace Grogar with a name-
I paused, hands shaking as I tried to force myself to use my name-
The name of a woman who was for all intents and purposes dead, her family mourning her, and her partners lost to her. Gritting my teeth, I put in another name, a name that held some meaning to me.
πνεῦμα, or Pneuma. The meaning behind it varied, but the one that I was going for was the Vital Spirit, Soul, or Creative Force of an individual. With a bit of thought, I deleted all instances of titles from the programming as well. I was πνεῦμα, and that was really all I felt comfortable calling myself. Shuddering, I exited the Core Chamber, making my way to the dungeon for the most somber of my self assigned tasks.
The Cells were… clean. Cleaner than they had any right to be, considering what they were. Walking into the space, I peered through each set of bars, grimacing as I gazed upon seven desiccated bodies. Grogar's memories indicated that the prisoner's rations were automated; these poor souls likely starved to death when the food went bad.
The eighth cell had… something worse, if at all possible. Rather than the stark and clinical nature of the other seven, the eighth had the body contained within strapped into some sort of pillory, dark-brown tubes and dried green alchemical ash crusted and dangling from bound limbs. Grogar had been extracting Fae essence for use in potions; the faerie bound in the stocks was literally bled daily to provide a constant flow for his work.
I snapped, a roar of rage bubbling in my throat as I stared at the atrocity, a flame, white hot in my hands burned, demanding I cleanse this place in fire, though I knew internally that it would solve nothing, nor bring these tortured souls back. Yet-
I threw the flame at each of the bodies, forcing myself to watch as it consumed them, praying to Jesus that they had found rest in the afterlife, and swearing never to commit such an atrocity myself,
Pact binding the words to my soul. It was upon the eighth body that a strange occurrence happened; as the flames touched the fae's bound corpse, it did not shatter into ash; instead it lifted its burning eyes.
"
Thrice I curse you, Grogar. May your spells fail, may your plans rot, and may your soul wither. Thrice and more have I suffered, and thrice my pain you shall be repaid." The echo of the Fae's last curse spilled from her lips, and for a moment, I felt the curse echo back through time.
Well. Now I know why Grogar never woke up. A darkly satisfied smile etched itself across my face, and I bowed deeply towards the body, "Your curse did enough, Fae. He is gone, and I will undo his work brick by brick, dust to dust, and ash to ash. Thank you for giving me a second chance, though it likely wasn't your intention."
With that said, I spun and walked out of the room, headed towards the library, if only so I could look up some very basic things before I went to activate the mana tap.
I emerged from the library with a skip in my step, reviewing the notes I'd taken in the back of my head. Grogar had been many things; cruel, foul, petty, and aggressive among them, but he'd also been a seeker and hoarder of knowledge. Any 'competent' book of magical theory, spell-craft, enchanting, or mystic lore he found ended up cataloged, to be perused at his leisure.
Of course, his library had many more tomes of necromancy and other Sign magic than other types, and he'd had far more books on magical crafting than any of the 'softer' magics. His collection of Seed lore was miniscule compared to the other branches, but that was mostly because none of the tomes and scrolls which were part of his library were focused on that subject. He had a massive collection of research notes on that magic, as well as stolen and recorded crystals on the subject. Unfortunately, unlike his other studies, they weren't organized or labeled; and I didn't currently have the time to sort them all out.
His records on Note magic were far more comprehensive, and I'd taken the time to use my better-rounded understanding to mesh my undeergamets to my armor, enchantment-wise. I was feeling much better about heading out, now.
Readying my gear, I approached the Portal room with speed. Entering the portal bay, I peered around. Sixteen circles of stone were depressed in the walls around me; ten had no labels, and the gemstones set in their uppermost arch glowed a steady, unobtrusive yellow. Of the remaining six, four stones were red, the remaining two were green. A quick gesture brought up the screen for the chamber.
Portal Connections
Whitetail Forest: Connection Broken (Clear/Attempt Reset)
Night Terror Crevice: Connection Broken (Clear/Attempt Reset)
Twilight Woods: Ready
Ev3&F##3 4V21*: Connection Unstable (Clear/???)
Greeneedle Steppes: Ready
Umbral Plane (Tatarus): Connection Broken (Clear/Attempt Reset)
Ten Connections Available
Nodding, I quickly ran through my memories, figuring out how to shatter a connection as Umbral Plane connection came up. I figured the numeral text one was the Everfree Forest or whatever it was called, and left it alone. Greeneedle was too close to Equestria, and that left Twilight Woods, the birthplace of the ponies. It would do, especially if it was abandoned.
With a quick gesture, I cleared out the connection to the Umbral Plane, leaving me with eleven available connections. Finally, I prepared to step into the unknown, moving to stand before one of the portals and tapping my foot on the stone at its base. This caused the green light to shine blue- a glow which enveloped the rest of the circle of stone, flowing inward to create a plane of light. The light grew in brightness, then dissipated to form a hole in the air, through which natural light could be seen filtering through tree branches.
Once more unto the breach, to where no human has set foot before I mused to myself with a giggle. Then I paused.
And still won't, I guess. Can't exactly call myself human in anything but soul now, and I always did identify more as a Nabatean or Manakete…
