by Drew Jager
Were my instructions not enough to let you make your choice? It is a rare thing for me to be questioned, and even rarer for me to be able to respond. Speak, and I will answer.
It didn't realize it had been speaking, it figured it was just thinking very loudly. More important thoughts came first, though. It could tell this was not normal, and may be its only chance to get some answers.
What is box? What is Treant? Why, Bound Monster?
The box was very intrusive, so, it felt it should probably ask multiple questions before it responded.
No horrible grating sound this time. The presence was still all around it, though, threatening to suffocate it again.
A Treant, is what you are. You will become a living tree, capable of great feats should you live long enough. You were chosen as a Bound Monster by pure chance, just as all things have been. Your Dungeon and their Herald will explain more, but know it is ultimately your choice whether or not you decide to serve them.
What am I? You are far too fleeting to warrant an answer to that question.
Not a very detailed answer, again. That last part irked the Treant, but it knew it was not in control at the moment. So, it bit back a retort.
A Dungeon and a Herald. Those voices. It wasn't sure how, but it knew, that was who they were. The one that had seemed so excited it was infectious, and the other so warm it felt at peace just from listening. How bad could it be, to serve somebody like that?
It would like to get to know them, become part of their family. This struck a nerve with the Treant, and it had to know.
Family. Can Treant have this?
There was a small shudder throughout the room he was in, and the box returned.
Family? It is likely you will never meet another of your kind, or the original creators for the Treants. No, you will not have a family.
Voices can be family?
Another shiver ran throughout the room, unnerving the Treant even more than it was before.
The voices you heard were those of your Dungeon, and his Herald. It is not up to me to decide if they accept you as more than the Monster you are.
If it couldn't belong with its own people, it would belong with the two who were there with it from the beginning. It would make its own family, with whoever it chose.
I choose... to be... more. Make me more... for family.
It took a lot of effort, but it got out exactly what it had meant to say. At the final word, the previous shuddering turned into a violent shaking. The walls of the grey room began vibrating, terrifying it. For the briefest of moments, a pair of eyes that covered the entire ceiling could be seen peering down onto the Treant. The blue irises surrounding snow white pupils stared unblinkingly at the Monster, then dissappeared as quickly as they had come.
It was far too busy shaking uncontrollably to notice, though. The presence had come back in full force, and was now actively suffocating it.
No box appeared this time, but instead, a voice. Decidedly less inviting than the Dungeon and Herald, it invaded into the Treant's mind and spoke directly to it.
Give me a reason, and I will gift you this, little one. Fail, and you will not have to worry about making your earlier choice.
The presence was slowly tearing away at the Treants sanity, and it knew it wouldn't last more than a few seconds under the gaze of this entity. It had managed to back itself into an even more dangerous situation than it had been in earlier. Figures.
There was no chance of responding out loud, so it settled for thinking about why it wanted this. Hopefully, the box could hear its thoughts as well. Otherwise, it was already over.
It knew there was nothing noteworthy about it. It had existed for all but a few moments, and already it had been placed into this terrifying situation. All it wanted was to be back under the light of the second voice, and the happiness of the first. It wanted, more than anything, to not be left by itself in the grey room.
What could be worse than being trapped, doing nothing but listening to the others around you? Unable to join them, unable to speak to them? Watching on, without ever being able to experience the joy for yourself.
I don't want to be alone. It screamed in its head.
The voice returned, echoing throughout its mind. It sounded, if only slightly, hesitant.
No. I suppose not. Who would?
After the Treant had recovered enough to focus back on reality, the entity had begun speaking again. It didn't think it could handle more than one more exchange with the power in the voice.
So be it. You have given sufficient reason to warrant your existence.
A brief pause. It didn't know why, but the next words shook the Treant to its core.
You, are Sol. From now, until you are dust. This name comes from your very being, and encompasses who you are. Do not forget, little one, you asked for this.
The room quieted all at once. The walls had stopped vibrating, the air became tolerable, and the Treant slowly stopped shaking. The presence had vanished, and in its place a familiar sound came.
Chime
Congratulations!
You have been gifted a glimpse into your true self. Your name, Sol, is a piece of who you are. It will grant you a better understanding of yourself, and always serve as a guide towards your goal.
Should you attempt to take another name, you will be torn apart. Should you stray from the path you have chosen, your very being will be ripped to pieces. Should you forget your name, you will be removed from existence.
(I think you get it.)
Do not forget, little one, you asked for this.
One last shiver from the memory of the experience, and the Treant felt ready to unpack all that happened. Not Treant, Sol.
Sol reread the box multiple times, trying to make sense of the entity's words. It didn't feel any different, though the thought of its new name did fill it with a sense of warmth. The possibility of being torn apart was nerve wracking. Considering it had come close to death multiple times just from speaking to the voice, though, it got over the nervousness quickly.
It would have spent a lot longer pondering the new name, but the consciousness of its mind suddenly shifted. Instead of seeing nothing but an empty grey room, it saw green. Then gold, and then a little bit of grey. Soon a face came into its view, obscuring its vision entirely.
The face retreated, revealing a small body. At least, it assumed that was what a body was. A tiny thing, with small wings and brown hair. It looked cute. It felt familiar. The small thing circled it, and touched the top of its head.
It had a head now. Neat. It felt the leaves of its hair being ruffled. Apparently, the box wasn't lying, it was a tree. It took a glance down, and saw the bark making up its limbs. It had a distinct sense of the exact capabilities of the wood, and how far it would grow. As well as the ability to stretch forward, if only for a short time. Small leaves covered its hands, and toes. Toes!
How it knew all of these different things were strange to Sol, but it chalked it up to the box. It had no plans on trying to contact that voice again. Never again.
After staring at the small thing flying around the room one more time, it noticed something new.
In the center of the room, on top of a strange pillar, was a large green gem. Sol saw many different sides, and facets, and was interested to see the green color was similar to its own leaves.
It wanted nothing more than to touch it, something about it just seemed so familiar. It was as if Sol could feel the excitement radiating off of the large gem.
Sol moved to reach out and grasp it, but its legs failed it. It had managed to take half a step before falling directly into the dirt. It felt red-hot embarrassment, but didn't let it deter it from the mission at hand.
Sol heard a small shriek to its side, most likely from the small thing, and nearly stumbled again at the voice. It felt warm.
This made Sol pick up the pace, in a hurry to confirm its suspicions. Stopping at the base of the strange pillar, it was interest
ed to note small carvings. Strange animals covered the entirety of the stone, along with a few trees and plants. It looked cute.
The goal was far out of reach from its arms, though. So, Sol attempted to reach out and grasp the gem by stretching its legs. It cheered in its head as it rocketed towards the green orb, and it was soon eye level with it. Once looking at the gem, it hesitated.
Staring directly at the orb, Sol felt immense joy radiating from the gem. It felt excitement, happiness, and so many other emotions. Laughter sounded out in its head, and it knew it came from the gem. No, the Dungeon. The small thing laughed as well. The Herald.
Sol felt warmth spread through its entire body, and joined in with them. Laughter spilled from its mouth, and it knew it had found the family it wanted. It wrapped the roots of its hands around the Dungeon Crawl, smiling the entire time.
"Father."
The Crawl and Herald both screamed.
* * *
Shortly after Sols appearance, Grizzly paces in his cave.
Something's different. Something's new. Someone, is new.
He kept pacing the cave his Creator had so graciously given him, creating tracks in the stone with every step. The fissures were wiped away with a swipe of his paw, but it irked him he couldn't even walk without damaging his home.
For the past few minutes, something felt wrong. Something new happened, and he didn't know what. He checked on the other Monsters via his mental link to them. Being the Boss had its perks.
Though he could check on the other Monsters, he could not talk directly to them. Not unless they went into his room. Then he could speak to them uninhibited, though, they could not respond.
The Serpents were still patrolling, except for the one stationed in the Ore room. The sisters still lay under the Silverbark, and the Howlers were busy fighting over a leaf. He knew the Leader of the Troop would never let anything go awry under her watch, so it must be his Creators.
What happened to them? Why haven't I been told about it? I don't sense any intruders, and the Great Ones are still in the Crawl room.
He did, however, feel a strange presence in the Dungeon. It hadn't been there earlier, so he assumed it must be the cause. It didn't feel violent, nor did it feel particularly dangerous. Actually, it reminded him of what he imagined a child would be.
His thoughts were interrupted by a shiver throughout the Dungeon. This feeling, at least, he understood.
More Two-legs come to test themselves against my might.
Of all the groups sent in today, none had managed to even make it to the Troop. Let alone, to his room. The Elf from the night before had amused him, but he yearned for a challenge. To test himself, and feel the bones of his Creators enemies crack under his paws.
He decided to lay down, and simply observe. He watched in fascination at the tenacity of the first rooms Serpent. He had proven to be a very capable, if not eager, Dungeon Monster.
Sadly, he fell all too easily to the group.
They have good coordination.
He felt his hopes rise, but tamped them down with a thought. No need to set himself up for disappointment.
Through the Trapped hallway, and the Flower room they went. He was shocked to see the dark-skinned Human had the ability of healing. Wounds that had left other Adventurers unable to continue mended into small scars in the blink of an eye.
That doesn't seem fair. A real fighter does not flee from pain, but embraces, and utilizes it. Cowardly Two-legs.
He huffed, and the dust in his room blew out of the entrance. Secretly, he wished for the ability to heal as well. Though, his affinity was a blessing of its own. He growled towards the Crawl room again, in thanks. His Creators were truly kind, and he should not besmirch their gifts.
The Leader of the Troop was impressive in action, and he could tell she had given her all. Sadly, the group proved too strong even for the Monkeys. She did, however, grievously wound the short one during their confrontation. The cowardly Cleric healed the cuts shortly after, enraging him. Erasing all the hard work she had gone through just to wound him.
He growled again, much more forcefully.
Cowards! Clinging to life, even after attacking OUR home. They would be wise not to open my door.
He was sulking now; he hadn't expected any Adventurers to make it this far. His earlier hope was replaced with rage. Seeing the broken bodies of his fellow Monsters fueled his anger, and only made him want to crush their bones even more.
He knew this was how it would be, but that didn't mean he would forget the faces of the ones who did it.
Then, they reached his favorite part of the Dungeon, the hallway that the Creator himself had blessed with his own personal statues. He had no idea what the beasts depicted were, but he longed to meet them. To challenge them, and to befriend them.
Any Monster that could catch the eye of his Creator, like these ones had, deserved his respect.
"What the fuck is that?" The short one yelled out, looking at the statues.
The dam broke, and he redoubled his pacing. He didn't bother refilling the tracks in the stone of his cave, and began digging a trench in the floor of his home.
I am going to rip the limbs from their bodies, and use their bones to decorate my cave. I am going to sever the spines of the short one, and shove it up the backside of the-
His ranting and raving were cut short as the three Adventurers started trying to open his door.
He flared his nostrils, and began to get ready. He took a position just behind the hill from the door, out of the view of the Adventurers. With any luck, they would over-extend themselves before he showed himself. He had no doubt they would lose their nerve when they saw him.
Sadly, he heard the three speaking on their plans to NOT fight.
Filthy cowardice.
Once the door had opened far enough, he knew the Adventurers were taking in his room, most likely searching for him. Unfortunately, they were wiser than he gave them credit for. They did not take more than a step inside, and didn't seem as though they would take another.
"Amazing..." One said quietly.
"It's like I'm back in the Ferst Plains!" The cowardly Cleric exclaimed.
"Where is the boss, though?" The short one, the one who killed the valiant Troop Leader, questioned.
Thinking about the effort she had put in, and the unfortunate death she and her family suffered enraged him again. In a fit of anger, he let out a roar loud enough to shake the entire Dungeon. The very air vibrated with the sound, and he felt a brief flash of pride at his power. Then, he saw the three turn around, and immediately sprint away from his room.
He knew he had no chance of catching them, he was far too large to fit through the Boss door. He still gave chase anyway, hoping to scare them away from the Dungeon, permanently. He watched in cruel satisfaction as the short one turned around, saw him, and screamed. The look of terror in the Two-legs eyes made him smile. Though, he imagined it looked far less friendly on his face from their point of view.
He waited at the door for a moment more, then slowly returned back to his cave after nudging it shut. He had no idea why everyone struggled to open it, it was so light.
After a short while, he felt the presence of his Creator fall upon him. He stood from the floor, and growled low as an acknowledgment. Respects had to be paid.
"Grizzly, we have a new addition to the Dungeon. I'm having the other Monsters come to your room, but you will be the first to meet him."
After his command, he was gone. Only his Creators could be strong enough to command him. Only they, the Great Ones, deserved his utmost obedience.
Now he knew what felt off, though. A new member to the Dungeon. It was strange that the presence felt different from all the other Monsters. He knew the Great Ones had made each type of Monster available to them at the time.
A new species? What could it be, if not another Serpent, or Monkey?
He knew one of the Serpents, and the Leader of the Troop, were both near
evolutions. Even if they themselves could not tell, he knew. Though, he also knew they hadn't achieved it yet, so what could it be?
Just then, the door to his room opened. The door from the Crawl room. He saw the Creators Sun emerge from the connecting tunnel, and smiled at the beauty of her. She was perfection, and balanced his Creator out, creating harmony in the Dungeon. Without her, the Dungeon would be useless. Just as, without the Crawl, she would be.
Then, he smelled a strange mixture of foreign wood, and dried leaves. It didn't smell particularly terrible. It reminded him of the trees in his own room, but more exotic.
