Dungeon Lord- Ancient Traditions

by Hugo Huesca

  Energy Drain: Constant. Moderate.

  Choosing this upgrade disables the Pledge of Cursed Armor upgrade tree.

  Pledge of Cursed Armor (70 experience) - The Dungeon Lord’s Pledge of Muted Armor is upgraded with new effects. The Dungeon Lord gains knowledge of a ritual to summon a cursewing fiend and bind it to his will. The cursewing cannot survive without drinking a token amount of the Dungeon Lord’s blood each day, so it shall protect him at all costs. The Pledge of Muted Armor allows the cursewing to disguise itself as part of the Dungeon Lord’s vestments, usually as a cape.

  Energy Drain: Constant. Low.

  Choosing this upgrade disables the Pledge of Shadow upgrade tree.

  Elder Lord Aura (80 experience) - The Dungeon Lord’s Ancient Lord aura is upgraded with new effects. He and the minions in the area of effect are now resistant to Holy magical sources. His minions are immune to mind-control magic, and all the attribute bonuses they receive from Ancient Lord aura are increased by one extra rank.

  Energy Drain. Activated. High.

  Wraith Step (50 experience) - The Dungeon Lord gains the ability to instantly transport himself to any uncontested location of a dungeon he owns and is currently inside. All the items he wears on his person are transported as well.

  Energy Drain: Activated. Moderate.

  Warning: This talent advances the Wraith’s Curse.

  Banshee Shriek (50 experience) - The Dungeon Lord gains a scream attack. Any creature within hearing range must immediately pass an Endurance contest. If they fail, they become frightened and unable to cast spells. Any creature with a Fortitude rank lower than five is instantly killed instead.

  Energy Drain: Activated. High.

  Warning: This talent advances the Wraith’s Curse.

  Advanced Spellcasting (150 experience) - Improves the Spellcasting talent, allowing the user to cast Advanced-ranked spells.

  -The user starts with one advanced spell per day besides his basic ones.

  -Upgrading to this talent slows down improvement of the basic version.

  “Advanced metabolism and reflexes are instant buys,” Ed said after everyone was done reading. He chose the version of the reflexes that reduced the energy expenditure, thinking back to his duel with Vaines. Talent-improved creatures had defenses or protections of their own, so it wasn’t as easy to take them down with a single surprise hit. Better to ensure he could go the distance and have enough Endurance to last until he could bypass their magic. This fit his own build and also Kes’ own defensive style of fighting, which formed the core of his own. “Same for power strike and the aura upgrade. I would get advanced spellcasting, but the experience cost is way too high.”

  “That’s because your improved casting skill is not yet trained enough,” Lavy said. “Most Wizards learn advanced casting only later in life, unless they are adventurers that can spare the points. Non-specialized casters rarely pass advanced, though—heroic magic has a geometric increase in power and requirements. Even Vaines hovers in advanced, but she is less of a specced caster than you are.”

  “When are you buying advanced, then?” Ed asked her.

  “I’m only a few points short, but I want to grind the rest of the improved daily spells before further halving my improvement. Also, my Witchcraft relies on rituals and cost-effective castings, so I benefit more from a high skill knowledge rather than brute-force magic, unlike you.”

  Ed’s Dungeon Lord magic made him an innate caster, but without Lavy’s lifetime of training with the inner workings of magic, he was pretty much limited to whatever spells he could learn from spellbooks or through his Mantle. Lavy had taught him a bit, but with barely any free time at all, his progress wasn’t as fast as it could’ve been. Better to wait until he had improved casting understood before dividing his attention even more.

  “Pledge of shadow armor would be useful if you’re caught in an ambush again,” Kes noted. “As you don’t have to rely only on the spidersilk vests for protection.”

  “However, cursed armor sounds way cooler,” Alder said. “Your own pet cursewing? Sign me up for that talent anytime.”

  “Alder, choosing an upgrade because it looks better is not really a smart idea,” Kes said.

  The Bard shrugged. “Well, surely an immortal fiend devoted to his protection has more uses than armor that is made redundant if Ed is already wearing plate.”

  “That’s a good point,” Ed said. “I cannot enchant the tendrils or improve them without experience points, but we can with plate armor. Cursed armor wins this one, I think.”

  Knowledge about the ritual flooded into his mind right after purchasing the talent. He would need to gather a few ingredients, but they weren’t anything the Haunt’s reserves lacked. He could handle it later tonight.

  “Now that we have the less impressive talents out of the way,” Jarlen said. “You’re entering the big leagues, Lord Wraith. Korghiran’s secret resistance is a talent granted by your Dark Patron. It shall make you survive damage that would kill a normal human. Mix it with spectral regeneration and perhaps Master Andreena shall sleep better without you coming and going from the Infirmary so often.”

  “If the snake woman granted it, can’t she also take it away if Lord Ed pisses her off?” Klek asked timidly. “He kinda does that often.”

  Jarlen scowled. “By now, Lord Wraith should know better. I’m sure Lady Vaines has an enhanced version from the Regent of Embers. If I recall correctly, it bolsters Endurance with Charm instead of Mind.”

  “I’m siding with Klek on this one,” Ed said. “Isn’t there a version of this talent that doesn’t rely on a Dark Patron? Because it does seem incredibly useful.” Anything that helped his guts stay where they belonged during a fight he was all about. Also, his Spirit was higher than his Mind. If only he could design the talent himself… “Is there a way to make your own talents?”

  Kes raised an eyebrow. “Only through a lifetime of mastery. Power strike was created by an aging warlord as a gift to the warriors of his family. It spread from there. In other words, you need at least a heroic-level skill before even trying. Just ask the halfling monk that the Haga’Anashi love to train with, he’s developing his own martial style, which includes its own talent tree. If I live long enough, perhaps I’ll try my hand at it as well.”

  “Understood. Well, I’ll sit on secret resistance for a while. I don’t want to rely on Korghiran’s favor, but if the Endeavor comes and I don’t have a better option, I’ll take it.” He frowned. Most of the remaining talents would advance the curse the Light had afflicted him with during his fight with the wraith of Katalyn Locksmith’s father. These talents were slightly more powerful than most of his normal choices, but much like secret resistance, they came with huge trade-offs.

  Ed had seen what could happen to him if he abused the curse in a blind pursuit of power. The Shadow Tarot had shown him a vision of a Wraith Lord, trapped forever between life and death, not truly undead but also not really alive. The Wraith Lord haunted forever the halls of a dead dungeon, its living inhabitants long ago perished, only their bones and reanimated corpses left as remnants.

  A fate worse than death. The Dungeon Lord hesitated. He needed the power of these talents just to survive, that’s why he had selected them from a bigger list in the first place. But he couldn’t take all of them. He had to be cautious to always remain human at his core. If he lost that, all that mattered he would lose as well.

  He shared his misgivings with his friends and explained what he had gleamed from the workings of the curse. “There’s a slider going from zero to ten that marks the progress of the curse. I’m currently sitting at one—” he raised his skeletal hand. “Every point from five to ten comes with increasing penalties to my humanity. I can handle up to three more points without much risk. Most of these talents advance the curse by one point, except the Evil Eye upgrade, which adds two.”

  “Careful, Ed,” Lavy told him. “This is a divine curse you’re trying to use to empower you
r build. It is designed so you want to increase it. If you make a mistake, you could lose yourself without realizing it.”

  “What’s so bad about undeath?” Jarlen said. “You’re inhabiting a reanimated body right now and are not complaining. Head Researcher Lavina has continually claimed she’ll raise you to unlife if you were to fall in battle. Accepting the curse would make you far more powerful than a regular wraith. I’d say the Light was acting on impulse when it cursed you, because in my eyes this is more of a blessing.”

  “Look,” Lavy said, crossing her arms and flashing Jarlen an angry glance. “I say a lot of things. If I wanted to be taken seriously on all of them, I’d let you know. Even if I were to raise Ed, or Alder, or any of us, it would be on our terms. I would take care to preserve their soul—or whatever it is that makes us, us. Learning how to do this is literally my life’s work. Remember Rolim? That’s prototype one. If this curse reached its full strength, the creature that’s left wouldn’t be my friend, so the Light can go screw itself.”

  “Aw, Lavy,” Alder said with a big smile. “I’ll never tire of hearing that you care about us.”

  Lavy rolled her eyes. “Hug me and I’ll hex you.”

  “Only if you target the right Alder among my decoys,” Alder told her.

  “Yes, that’s very kind of you, Lavy,” Kes said before the Witch could preventively hex the Bard. “But when I die, just bury me. Avian afterlife is not that bad.”

  “Same for me,” Klek said. “Batblins go to Hogbus’ great forest in the sky. At least, my father said so. There are huge fruity insects and no wolves.” His ears lowered. “But also no horned spiders. Does that mean I won’t get to see Tulip again?”

  “Don’t worry, little guy,” Lavy said. “As Ed’s minions, we’ll all probably languish in one of the cells of Murmur’s unholy dungeon for all eternity. Also, I’m raising you whether you want it or not, I never said it was up to debate. Anyway, Ed, otherworldly Evil Eye is the most powerful of your choices. Any Necromancer would buy it instantly, but it doesn’t fit your build at all, and if you take spectral regeneration—which you should—it would leave you at four points. That’s safe, but you would be risking it. Listen to an expert and stay on three points just in case there’s a side-effect we don’t know about yet. So take the regeneration and choose between wraith step or banshee shriek.”

  “All of that makes sense, Lavy. Let’s see. I can use the shriek outside my dungeon and silencing spellcasters would be very useful,” Ed said, thinking aloud. “But I can do the same thing with frightening Evil Eye. Wraith step is more flexible and I’m already thinking of some nasty ways to abuse it with the Gray Highway. So that’s my final choice.”

  After he was done upgrading his character sheet, Ed shifted his skeletal body inside his cape. He didn’t feel very different, but that was because he didn’t feel anything at all. Only when he returned to his own mortal body would he notice the bulk of the changes.

  It was so easy to be an animated skeleton. The idea made him uneasy. The core of his being, the spirit that inhabited this body, urged Ed’s mind to return to where he belonged.

  “What’s next?” Alder asked.

  “Well, I should make sure our research will be ready in time for the Endeavor—”

  At that moment, the doors to the War Room opened and Andreena the Herbalist strolled inside, angrier than Ed had ever seen her. She wielded one of Heorghe’s forge hammers in one hand, and her eyes were fixated on Ed’s.

  “What do you think you’re doing outside of bed?” Andreena said quietly, as she approached the head of the table. “I thought I was very specific about your rest. You may have escaped from Vaines’ wrath, Dungeon Lord, but you’re not escaping mine. Your luck ends here.”

  Everyone else hurried to vacate the room. Traitors, Ed thought. Were skeletons capable of feeling fear?

  “Well, you see, technically, I’m just taking a nap—”

  “Go talk technicalities with Murmur. Back to bed with you, and stay there until you’ve healed!”

  Ed wasn’t fully sure how Andreena had destroyed the skeleton. Before he realized it, he was an unshaped cloud of ectoplasm flying at full speed toward the infirmary, and in the blink of an eye he was back in his own body, where an exhausted sleep claimed him at once.

  16

  Chapter Sixteen

  While the Dungeon Lord Rested...

  Forgemaster Heorghe stood regally among the chaos of his forge, like a king watching paternally as his subjects ran one way and the other in varying degrees of urgency, carrying smoking trays with white-hot rods, or primed explosive runes that could easily go off if the batblin that brought them tripped on one of the many barrels or tools lying around.

  Behind Heorghe, orange flames came roaring from a huge furnace, wide maws open like one of the dragons from legend. Kes approached him almost reverently, her avian bones remembering through raw instinct a time beyond memory, when her ancestors hadn’t been the majestic rulers of the skies they were today, but mere prey for the armored titans that made active volcanoes their nests. She barely resisted the urge to shiver.

  “Ah, Kes. I was wondering when you’d show up,” Heorghe said. “How is our brave leader doing today?” he asked.

  “Still resting in the infirmary,” Kes said. “Andreena has him on lockdown. No one comes in, no one comes out. Otherwise he’d keep going until he truly managed to do some lasting damage.”

  “That sounds like Ed. You know, the first time I met him, I thought charging a spider Queen by his lonesome was as brazen as a man could get. Every year I spend in the Haunt he seems hellbent on proving me wrong.” Heorghe’s laughter was booming and boisterous, and his broad shoulders fell and raised as if propelled by a pair of bellows. He patted his belly, which protruded a bit more nowadays than back in Burrova during the good old times.

  Near the furnace, rows of batblins worked next to each other, each one hammering away at small metallic pieces. Drones brought any finished parts to Heorghe’s apprentices for assembly. His daughters, who were the most experienced, led the others. First time that Kes had seen them, they had been tiny, soot-covered fiends running through the blacksmith like they owned the place. They were young women now, tall, with Heorghe’s humor and Ivona’s beauty. The oldest had married a few months ago, to one of the Haunt’s Rangers, breaking Alder’s heart in the process—or so had the Bard dramatically claimed.

  “There’s a small army down here,” Kes said, soaking sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. “It seems like it doubles in size when I’m not looking.”

  Heorghe gave the place an appraising glance, probably noticing myriad tiny mistakes that only a master Blacksmith could even see. “For every army you meet on the battlefield, there’s at least five invisible armies dedicated to feed it and arm it. Sadly, we’re short—on everything. The forge is always expanding, we’re always hiring, and yet it’s never enough. We need more iron, more coal, more silver, more experienced blacksmiths. We need specialists that know their way around advanced enchantments. If only the Militant Church’s blockade wasn’t around, we could get all of that. But it seems that in order to defeat the blockade, we need to defeat the blockade.” He shrugged. “Ed told me once to see it as a resource-optimization game. I see it more like choosing if today I’m going to get kicked in the right nut, or the left.”

  “In that case, I’m glad I’ve neither,” Kes told him. “I’ll see if we can send more gold your way, Heorghe, but I won’t lie to you, our own resource-optimization upstairs is pretty saturated as well.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Kes, I really do,” Heorghe said. “But something tells me the great Marshal of the Haunt isn’t here to commiserate about funding. Do you want to take a glance at our secret projects?”

  Kes grimaced. “Yes, but first you should make sure I’m who I say I am. It’s protocol.”

  It had been Kes herself who had put it into place, and she was sure as hell not going to set a bad precedent by ignorin
g it. Heorghe winked at her and pointed at the small anti-magical circle engraved in silver on the floor a few feet away. A couple of newbie kaftar guards and a small contingent of invisible spiderlings witnessed the whole sequence. After the Marshal stepped on the circle and no illusions were disabled, she also had to repeat two different passwords—one that established her credentials, and another whose last two letters spelled a different secret code.

  “Ah, just to make sure,” Heorghe said, squinting to read the soot-covered manual with the meanings of each combination. “You are not being coerced to betray the Haunt by magical or mundane means, right?”

  “You know, if I were, and you asked me that aloud—” Kes shook her head. It wouldn’t do well to her blood pressure to get mad so early in the day. “Two ‘o’s’ is the all-clear, Heorghe. An ‘o’ and an ‘a’ means I’m being coerced against my will. If that were the case, protocol dictates you should pretend like nothing is wrong, then secretly signal the guards here to notify Lavy and the Diviners—”

  “Yes, yes, I know all that,” Heorghe said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just that there’s a blotch on the page. Alright, since you’re absolutely not being coerced right now, please follow me.” As Kes stepped off the circle, the Blacksmith gave the guards a thumbs up.

  “Was that the signal?” whispered one of them.

  “Of course not,” said the other. “That one means that she was being coerced but no longer, and now is tricking the bad guys into thinking she still is, so we ought to—”

  “—present yourselves immediately at the Training Facility for a remedial course in security protocols,” Kes finished for them. “A thumbs up is just a thumbs up, people.”