《Arynstar Rising》


 The Price of Ignorance

    The undead are wed, as unchanging monstrosities, to the processes of this mutable plane. -- Risaud the Mad


    A desiccated figure glared up at the blue sun with empty, glowing eye sockets. He looked at the gore in front of him and leaned on his staff. Then he wiped blood off his decayed feet.


    ¡°Ah, camels. If ever there was a creature worse than a man it is they. The stupid beasts have souls, you know. If I didn¡¯t kill them at my doorstep they would overrun the desert in massive undead herds.¡±


    Besides the camels, forty humans, twenty elves and thirteen rogha jumbled together in a tangle of flesh. Their packs rapidly soaked in the color of their fluids: crimson, yellow; black and green. The desiccated man released a wave of energy. Time seemed to stop. The man shuddered, producing a sound like reeds clacking in a breeze.


    He crouched over the elven group. One by one he inspected their corpses. Then he moved to the Rogha, a species of intelligent therapsids, noted their brands and inspected their sparse fur, teeth and scales. He undid the metal that pierced their frills. When he got to the humans, he rummaged through every pouch and pocket, looting anything that carried the glitter of a magical signature. When he found a magical object on a person, he marked the corpse with a seal that burned into the flesh over its heart.


    ¡°Are you horrified that I killed the gifts you brought me? I hope you are. Killing them is monstrous, but then again am I not a monster? It is a necessary shame, but what has been done to them in life is even more shameful.¡±


    He stuck a finger into his ribcage and pulled out a glass vial. The liquid inside swirled indigo and black with flecks of metal. He poured it out across the rock. A protrusion emerged from the substance, sprouted two eyestalks, and tugged the rest of the fluid behind it. Wherever it went, it left a trail of slime that rapidly evaporated under the sun but cleansed the rock of all signs of blood and viscera. When it encountered a non-camelid corpse, it recoiled and reversed direction.


    ¡°Life is unfair, and death is. . .even more so. I have directly been the death of trillions, you know. But I still thank you for bringing them.¡±


    He lifted every corpse and laid them out next to one another. He took great care not to let anything touch the sands on the edge of his threshold. Pinpoints of light flashed around him, but he ignored them. Once the sealed corpses lay in a configuration that pleased him, he stepped back into the shadows of his magiolith and watched the lights flash.


    ¡°Spirits! Fear and tremble, for you are dead. Your brethren in my sanctum must come first among my tasks. You will wait for me and I will decide your fate. Rest, wait and consider my offer. There is no finality in death upon the Aryn unless you choose it. If you do not take my offer, you will be whisked away by the couriers of your preferred god¡¯s psychopomp to whatever realm has been appointed to receive you. I offer you purpose and a new existence. I offer you annulment from all crimes real and perceived. I offer you honest labor according to your skills. Weigh that as you wait against the fate you have been taught to accept according to your culture.¡±


    One by one, he watched the lights settle down near their corpses. He knew from the color which mood they were in. The humans, as he expected, revealed terror. The elves radiated confusion. The rogha; expectation. There were other colors, but these were the most interesting to him.


    ¡°Child, It is well that you revealed this crime. You were born from the land and its laws are yours. Your instinct brought this travesty to my doorstep, even as a child brings a wounded knee to his mother, but an infant cannot be expected to understand. I wonder who is coming to investigate?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The glittering black and indigo slug encountered the closest camel corpse and melted into it. The corpse immediately began to sag as its bones dissolved. The man watched and waited, unmoving. The sun dipped below the horizon and stars shone weakly in the twilit sky. One by one the camels dissolved into goo. When only tatters of skin remained, he picked his creature up and returned it to the bottle.


    ¡°It seems that you are testing me. I can weather your test. Shall we see what piqued your interest? Why this caravan? Not that such things interest me, but shall we take a closer look at what they traded in other than living flesh?¡±


    He rooted through the camel packs, tossing the water into the sand away from his threshold of stone. He pulled beads and gems out and tossed them into the sand. He found a pouch of coinage and sorted through it, tossing most of them onto the sand. He pulled out a copper and stopped. He held the piece up to the sunlight and chuckled.


    ¡°Ah, there it is. Now I know why you brought these people to me. This looks like our star, doesn''t it, on the back side of this coin. But the polarity of this copper is all wrong. It was made in the Northern Hemisphere. How interesting.¡±


    He began rooting through the next pack, pulling out anything with the star on it. Most of the magical items had it upon closer inspection. Swords made of folded steel, pieces of armor, and some cloth also bore it. He laughed at the small pile of goods.


    ¡°Yes, I see it now that I know what to look for. Oh, you must remember, little one, that I don¡¯t see by physical means any more than you do. This desiccated husk of mine is just a placeholder in space and time that a long dead culture cursed me to wear. I am, like you, something that has evolved from what I once was. How ironic that I, who was born a living thing, never gets to speak to the living while you,born of magic, spend more time with the living. But do not forget what you are. Look with the senses that you were formed from. Feel the strangeness of it. All these things were made of this continent except for this one copper coin. The materials may be made to service the invading culture, made in the same style as that culture¡¯s goods, but they are of the Aryn and the Rim, the jungles and the walking mangroves. It took study for me to see any details not etched in magic. The coin alone does not belong here.¡±


    He fingered the copper and considered the pile of goods before shoving the whole pile, magical goods and all, into the sand. Once on the sand, everything disappeared. Ripples rolled away from where the goods vanished.


    ¡°What comes from the Aryn returns to the Aryn. I have no need of those things. The only thing that interests me is this coin. Shall I tell you about what I see in the refuse? This is a culture in a shipbuilding and exploration age. Have they developed combustive weaponry; I wonder? It is a very early era for a culture to meet with me, but I have seen civilizations so deeply steeped in magic that they put stone age cities on the moon and under the seas. Folded steel weapons and breastplates for armor speaks to me of a developed balance between magic and science. They choose not to use everything that is available. But why? I wonder what the judged think of us. Do they even know we are here?¡±


    He held up the copper piece until it occluded the blue disc of the sun.


    ¡°You have given me a story. Unfortunately, I cannot give you the stories attached to this yet. It is impossible to open this story by its end. For these, such as they are, the end has come. The five inside will have to speak their tale if they make it to my hermitage. Their story has begun a sequel. Perhaps you are strong enough now to see what has become of them. Shall you try to cross my threshold at last?¡±


    Indigo light intensified around the man, invisible except where the shadow of the cave fled from its presence.


    ¡°Ah, there you are at last. Tell me if you can: are my theories correct? Were you indeed afraid? Were you waiting to see my reaction? You have never occluded yourself from my sight before. Then again you have never brought me living things before.¡±


    The light faded, and the old man paused.


    ¡°No, be calmed. I am not angry. Not with you. Let me begin again the story you have paid for in blood. Now listen. Come into my dwelling and hear why what you have brought to me is so special. For mortals, gods, everything in heaven and below passes away save for the Aryn. Even before it was sand it was still eternal. So do not worry about these mortals. They are not worth your concern. They are mine.¡±


    The coin glittered indigo in the man¡¯s hand. He held it star side up, then placed it in a pouch attached to a belt dangling from his hips. Slowly, he paced back into the maigolith. The light followed. He rounded a corner and stopped again.


    ¡°So, you are powerful enough to leave your sands at last. Welcome to my domain, anima of the Aryn. I am proud of you. Now come in as far as you can. I would like for you to see my hermitage.¡±

 Mythologies (backstory chapter)

    ¡°I am glad you have come at last. This generation of challengers will not be able to stand against us. After all this time you have developed your consciousness with perhaps just enough time for something to be done. We shall see if we can close this age properly.  Xan warned me about them. He knew they had the star. This is why he lit his beacon and poisoned the land to prepare it for a trial. All who bear the star must be tested against the Aryn. Listen, my child, to the story written into these stones. It is the story of this star.


    Sultan Risaud had a tree that it was said germinated from one of 144 seeds of the world tree. This single seed which made the tree came from a single stolen fruit. This single fruit was the last ovum of that tree and this land, the Aryn, was made to grow it.¡±


    Tension dissipated from the air with a gust of cold, magically charged wind. The man also sighed, though his lungs were long since rotted away.


    ¡°This tree belonging to Risaud was something lesser and different than its progenitor. It was, in fact, half mortal. Ages before ages before Risaud lived, not at the beginning of the beginning, but in the second age, a man existed who also had 144 wives. They lived as nomads across the land. And for this man and his wives, it was the end of the world.


    The Aryn was once home to the World Tree. The world tree nourished the Titans, and the titans were beings who tended planets and stars as we tend flocks and grains. The how and why of their existence does not matter other than that. They were here because our planet had a tree.


    As expected of a tree, it grew upon the land and drank in the air. It put forth fruit, but also exhaled magic. Every part of the tree had a different use for mortal and titan alike. The mortal creatures who lived near it developed pneuma¡ªmortal souls as a result of the tree¡¯s magical nature and rose above their animal brethren. My race was among them.


    The titans were gluttonous entities and were as fond of souls as of the fruit. All beasts who developed souls were herded, tended, hunted and domesticated for consumption.


    This man was one of a race preferred for consumption. He was a hominid. Many thousands of his kind had long ago fled the continent to avoid being eaten. His tribe remained here, sacrificing his kin simply to remain next to the tree.


    The titans, on the other hand, built mighty works of all kinds and competed the titans of other worlds. They did not care for cleaning up after themselves. Great magical middens piled up all over the world. Only the Aryn remained a verdant and deadly sanctuary. The tree was the only thing that mattered to the titans.


    Eons passed. Empires grew and fell made of mortal life dependent on the waste outside the Aryn. The Titans paid no heed. They didn¡¯t consider any mortal life to be sapient or even sentient. Mortals with pneuma were senseless to them in the same way a sea sponge is senseless to us. They could not make themselves operate the way we do any more than you could make a human into a two dimensional line.


    It was perhaps inevitable that with so much magical waste accumulating in the world a diety should be born. This goddess was our planet''s creation given Ego just as you are the Ego of the Aryn. When she awoke, then, with nothing to guide her but rage, hurt, and illness born of the state of her body; her presence on the world meant madness incarnate. She was the first to breach the rim and enter into paradise from beyond it.


    The goddess shook the world tree and this alarmed the titans. For the first time, something of this world had been born which could get their attention.


    The titans suddenly knew their planet had become self-aware. They learned that she had developed of the magical waste. They lied to her and told her that the things living in the middens were responsible. They commanded her to clean up the middens and go back to sleep.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The goddess didn¡¯t know any better. She was born of magical waste, but she was also the anima of the planet. She did not know that cleaning the magic and killing the living would also disperse her ego and return her to the land. She set about cleansing the middens and restoring the lands, expending her focus in rage and pain. Everywhere she cleansed, she eradicated sentient life until she came to realize that these creatures were trying to get her attention.


    It was the wyrms who first learned to speak to her. They needed the middens to survive but they also loved the clean air and water she left in her wake. The Ego began to attend the sentients. Being made of the planet, unlike the titans, she could learn to understand them, love them and nurture them. Soon she was being worshipped. She learned to take physical shapes that looked like her worshippers. In return for their worship, she tried to hurt the titans as she had been hurt. She climbed once again over the rim of the Aryn and ate every fruit on the tree while the titans were off playing their game.


    The power concentrated in those fruits made the goddess the equal of the titans. They returned and found her glutted with that power and no fruit left for them to eat. The titans, jealous and wrathful, attacked.


    The battle to kill her raged for so long and so much was destroyed that no written record exists, only the results and the mythology. All the world was ruined. The goddess was destroyed. The final body she made for herself shattered. Her death forced wild magic on the world.


    The titans were also nearly destroyed. She inflicted a terrible curse on them; infecting them with shards of her being in the wake of her destruction. They became part of this world and could no longer participate in their incomprehensible game.  Conn alone survived as an immortal Titan. He alone bore no shard.


    The planet returned to stasis. The wild magic pooled and flowed through the world, and where it was most powerful the first natural spirits appeared. Because they were fragments of the goddess¡¯s focus, they inherited the land and because their essence was keyed directly to the planet, they had no choice but to tend it or perish.


    Where a fragment of the goddess existed in the land however, a spawning point for magical aberrations formed. The shards that cursed the titans also loosed every manner of undead thing that ever has risen. They called angels and demons from other planes. They loosed terrible horrors that should not be able to exist. Every plague imaginable, magical and physical, came from those shards. They even twisted space and time. Other animals got pulled here from elsewhere. Humans were one such creature, for example. Camels, cows, barnfowl, dogs, cats, giant lizards; you name it. Imagine a whirlwind of magic appearing out of nowhere and a school of sharks appearing inside it. Imagine that in the next event, a flood of demons. Or an entire longhouse filled with gods in the middle of a feast. These were the sorts of things that would form out of chaos.


    Wyrms, who alone of the mortal races could speak to these fragments and kindle their essence into awareness, began to amass treasure and to guard them against lesser mortals which would be drawn to the power those fragments put out. The hope was that the lesser races would sate themselves on lesser treasure or stick around and become food.


    Dragons, the highest order of wyrms, used their magic to bring their fragments to consciousness. They discovered that harnessed to consciousness, a fragment was no longer an open box of chaos. The dragons taught these thought constructs to protect their hordes even as they used their power to remake the land around themselves. These were the first dungeons.


    Dungeons set about cleansing the world of all the works of the titan war. Dungeons cleaned the wastes. Dungeons eradicated lesser sentient species¡ªthose non-draconic species which had pneuma. They took out domesticated animals that titans were breeding. Native hominids died in their billions like all the rest. The titans, cursed with their shards, also either died and became crystal fragments or they became undead.


    The second age passed in ignorance as the world healed. My race was a dying genus but hominids of all the lesser sentients are a tenacious lot no matter on which fragment of reality they develop. They delved into dungeons and fought the spirits, hungry for power. The loot from dungeons allowed them to form civilization again. Despite their tenacity, though, Dungeons and their dragons still ruled the world.


    The indigo light surrounding the desiccated man dimmed. He paused and stroked his chin; flakes of dried flesh sloughed off.


    ¡°Patience little one. A story of ages cannot be brief. Yes, yes, I promised to tell you about this star. You are at last aware enough to know more than what is necessary to maintain your awareness. But you needed to know about the man and his ancestor to know about this star and you needed to know why this man was so important. Remember what you have learned from this tale. Mortals are tenacious. Gods can die. And you, ego of the Aryn, are a god.¡±

 Awakening

    The indigo light followed him, illuminating the magical stone. Furrows crisscrossed the face of the cave walls. The man ran his skeletal hand along the wall. His fingers fit precisely into the scars.


    ¡°My magiolith, godling. It is my prison, not my home. For a million years I have resided here, give or take a millennium. I find that I lose track of how many times the stars have wheeled around the center of the world and the math is too pointless to figure after that stretch of years. I count my age by the races that find their way here. Each time they come they bear this star. At the end of days for each civilization, how they found me, how they conquered Xan and how they discovered you dictated the manner of their destruction. But you are something else this time. There has never before been a time when you were aware before the star has risen above the desert.¡±


    The man walked through the finger dug passages as he spoke. His heel bones matched the divots on the floor. Walls of iron and olivine glittered with the indigo light that followed him, illuminating runes that drank in the light. They remained lit when the light passed. The man would stop at random points to deactivate a trap in his way or to light a sconce recessed into the wall. Soon, Iron and olivine gave way to quartz and obsidian, chert and sandstone, and then to coal and shale.


    In the final chamber, every fixture amplified the indigo light that followed him. It illuminated stone walls carved and painted with ancient writing, reliefs and spells. It glittered in the facets of every jewel and reflected off one bent electrum star that jutted out of a wall of natural glass. The floor of the cavern, as worn with the man''s feet as the passage, twinkled with a mosaic of gemstones and precious metals.


    A single unworked stalactite hung over a clear, shallow pool. No streams flowed to or from it but the steady drip from the single stalactite replenished it. Five bodies lay at the edge of the pool, a goatskin wet with spilled water between them: a therapsid, two elves and two humans. The elves wore tattered rags and the therapsid had its scales branded and scarred with slave marks just like the other corpses on the surface. Metal rings decorated the spines of its frill and sail. Its eye sockets contained plugs of gold stamped with the eight pointed star in place of eyes.


    The dessicated man sighed and poked at a human with his staff. The human groaned as air escaped her dead lungs. He fingered the legion brand on her arm.


    ¡°A soldier. A woman. And would you look at the fairness of her skin? She must have come from a far northern race. What an interesting addition to the deathless watchers. We do not get many human females here.¡±


    Movement distracted him from going through her pockets. The therapsid got to her feet and shook herself, sending a shower of metal bits clattering to the cave floor.


    ¡°Ah, how fortuitous,¡± said the man. ¡°How interesting that among the five of you, it is the rogha that proves the strongest of will. What is your name, rogha?¡±


    The rogha licked her lips and felt her body. She reached up to her face and tore out the plugs in her eye sockets, dropping them at her feet. Her blunt claws then tore at any metal that remained in her body.


    ¡°Am I speaking to the lord of the Gedhanwisk?¡± She asked, standing naked with rivulets of blood oozing from her wounds.


    ¡°Yes and no. I am the steward of the pool, not its master.¡±


    ¡°Then the legends are true and I breathe no longer?¡±


    ¡°Not unless you wish to,¡± said the man. The rogha¡¯s lips parted, revealing primitive, carnivorous teeth.


    ¡°And the others, will they also rise?¡±


    ¡°It is inevitable. What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Waterfinder six-aught-ninety-nine-five-twenty-three.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Such a shame. But what are you called?¡±


    ¡°The Gedhoren Roghaki who owned me called me Boots.¡±


    ¡°By the Gedhoren, you mean these fair skinned humans?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Gedhaki. I am told that they are so named because they have hides like the dead bleached in the sun and hair that hangs limp from the head.¡±


    ¡°I see. And you are a waterfinder? That is not a Rogha concept. The Rogha I know would have killed a blind whelp.¡±


    ¡°It is a mark of enslavement, Gedhaki. I was not hatched free. My creche was a damp warehouse in port Xan. We learn to navigate the world by sensing the water magic that is in nearly all things and so we are waterfinders. It is a skill unknown to the wild tribes.¡±


    ¡°Can you still use your watersense?¡±


    ¡°It would seem so. But I also sense the magic of the pool¡ªthis power which animates me, and anything its waters have afflicted. I do not sense you though.¡±


    ¡°I am not of the pool because I was here before it.¡±


    ¡°That this is real is beyond all hope. How may I serve you?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t. I am a master of nothing here. You are a child of the waters and you are free to do as you please, though you will never again pass beyond the rim. Leave behind the magic of the Aryn and your body will become magical stone within a half-turn of the sky. Other than that, you are your own monster.¡±


    ¡°I would wait here to see what will become of my sorors.¡±


    ¡°The other Rogha on the surface?¡±


    ¡°And the Faryn.¡±


    ¡°If that is your wish, please take a seat just there. Listen to my story and help me unravel the mystery while we wait for these others. These four that drank along with you must rise first. It is a duty of mine to see the seekers of the pool onward to their eternal tasks. I stabilized the dead above, but I have not decided what to do with them just yet.¡±


    ¡°Let them rise up, Gedhaki.  It is not their fault that they were forced to break your law over this place. It is the greatest honor my people have that they should touch these stones and drink these waters. The Faryn also honor this place and it was a great trial to come here. Leaving them to the sands would dishonor their suffering,¡± said Boots. She sat like a quadruped, with her hands on the ground and her legs stretched out straight in front of her.


    ¡°The culture that enslaved you allows you to contact your undead?¡±


    ¡°No. But we whisper the lost ways of the Aryn anyway. We are Rogha. Even enslaved, we are still people of freedom. Donem cannot take everything. Among the slaves, this state of being is a legend of freedom because Gedhoren despise it.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes, men universally despise the undead. To be undead is to become part of the magic of this world. Humans are an alien species. Their souls recoil at the idea of leaving behind their origin. Even as long as they have been here, their souls¡¯ citizenship still belongs elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Were you human?¡±


    ¡°No. What I was is gone now. I don¡¯t even inhabit the body I died wearing. This is a human husk, yes, but it is not what I am.¡±


    ¡°Gedhaki, I will serve the Aryn.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am glad you are taking this well. Even enthralled, your people still do honor to this place. You are an unliving archive now. That is the purpose to what you are. Those who drink from this pool are the keepers and witnesses of what transpires on the sands. When rock crumbles and artifacts disappear, the undead remain locked into our eternal stasis. Only we can keep the scroll of ages.¡±


    ¡°You can save us from the Gedhoren.¡±


    ¡°Not I, but the Aryn itself deals with the bearers of the star. I am just the guardian and prisoner over this magiolith. I will do what I can but my domain ends at the edge of the stone. You will likely do more. You became undead during the time of trial. I am one of the judges of this game. you are either a witness or a prosecutor. You have the privilege of choice.¡±


    The man picked up the star marked orb.


    ¡°I understand. Why are these taking so long?¡±


    ¡°Some souls resist and some do not. It is not my place to mess with them until they start moving again.¡±


    ¡°I will stay. My sorors must rise. I will wait for you to do this for them.¡±


    ¡°Then if you can stay I will do it for you. Just know that they will be nearer to the Faryn undead than what you have become.¡±


    ¡°Lord Gedhaki, anything is better than dying a slave. The Rohga are people of the Aryn. This place is the place of our afterlife. We have no gods to send away messengers for our souls. Our forbidden lore teaches that our souls wander the sands until we find this place.¡±


    ¡°That I know. And I know what becomes of souls that die on the sands. But your sisters died on the stone. I will let them choose what they want to do.¡±


    ¡°That is all I ask.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now while we wait for the others, let me tell you about my ancestors and about this star, the star that Donem brings back to the Aryn where it belongs. You will be one of many to assure it and so you must know why. There is another new being in here and it has also never heard the tale.¡±


    ¡°What being?¡±


    ¡°Ah, young servant, it is your master, if ever you care to acknowledge such things. The ego of the Aryn, meet one of the stewards of your land.¡±


    The indigo light flared in the room. The rogha called Boots sniffed the air and tilted her head. The old man shrugged.


    ¡°Can you not sense it?¡±


    ¡°No, sire. Is it here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and very bright.¡±


    ¡°Is it an indigo color?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We know this light. It is whispered in the stables that such a thing has helped many find their way in sandstorm and blizzard. I am told that it likes to play tricks and it thieves from the unwary, it lingers at campsites where stories are told, and it moves the sands to bury the dead.¡±


    ¡°That is what I have also heard. It has become a very helpful god, hasn¡¯t it. I was just telling it how it came to be.¡±


    ¡°I would like to know as well, why this pool made me as I now am.¡±


    ¡°It is all part of the Way. Now listen and I will continue.


    In the age of Dungeons the things of the titans were long buried. Conn, last of all titans, retreated into a fugue, unable to die and alone.


    ¡°Now, I began this tale about a man. This man belonged to 144 wives and he was the father of my fathers. He lived at a time of hardship in the world, and he was one of the few males of my species. That was the way of my kind. Only one in a hundred births were male and tribes of women would marry a single man and then send him out to compete against other men. But being the only tribe on the Aryn, there was no male competition save for his few sons and so his wives tested him constantly.  One day, they tasked him with finding each of them a gift so precious that no other tribe would dare question the fitness of their tribe.


    His eye was set upon the tree. Conn sheltered it from his undead brethren who could no longer eat from it. He surrounded with true demons--entities from the realms beyond the outer planes. He encircled it within a fortress. He protected it with the last of his works.


    It took this man a lifetime to enter the garden, but he at last stole in. When he at last spied it, it was at the end of its fruiting season. Conn had picked it clean but for one fruit; overripe and small. Conn left it to waste. The man took the fruit and left. He did not see one of the fallen titans observing his actions. Lorgh was his name, and he was leader of the undead titans.


    Lorgh hated Conn. He hated the tree. Conn had life that Lorgh was denied. The tree had fruit that he couldn¡¯t consume. When he saw the man take the fruit he copied the man, entered the garden, and pushed the tree over. The demons slaughtered him but it was too late for the tree.


    So the man returned to his wives unaware of the evil that had befallen the world as a result of his cleverness. He split the fruit apart. Each wife consumed 1 seed. He did not take a seed for himself because it was a gift for his wives. Had he known what the fruit did, maybe he would have taken one. No, there were just as many seeds as there were wives in his tribe.  And for a short time the hero loved all of his wives, and his wives all loved each other and all of them grew in power and magic as never before had been seen among mortals since the days of the middens. No other tribe could match this one and no other male could contest the hero.


    His children became able to use magic. They battered him with magic and prodded him. He found to his horror that he was aging but his wives were not. This was too much for the man. When he felt himself growing weak, he slipped away from his women and resigned himself to live out his days as an old bachelor.


    Imagine his surprise when his first wife followed him out of camp. She was the oldest of his wives. She was immortal, but tired of the ways of the younger ones. Magic had made them powerful, but also cruel. They left the tribe to live alone.


    Meanwhile, Lorgh¡¯s destruction snapped Conn out of his fugue. The death of the tree set every dungeon core screaming in madness. Conn despaired for his life. Without a world tree, the planet would die. He needed a substitute and fast. So to silence the madness, he gathered the cores that screamed the loudest and reformed the Goddess he killed. He cemented them together with his own flesh.


    Now, the reborn goddess remembered the lessons from the last time she was alive. She did not trust Conn and sought to rebel. She alone could track down the last fruit. And finding traces of the seeds within the women, she despaired because the seeds were by this time fully part of these goddesses. She was supposed to have killed them. Instead, she dispersed the women across the world.


    And the 143 women who were scattered became the mothers of vast magical nations. It is said that some even found their way to the outer planes. The children they bore passed a heritage of magic into the genetics of all mortals. The demons and angels and all the spirits of the world quaked and wept, and then set about taking sides.


    And so this conflict for the attention of mortalkind tore apart the spirit planes and plunged even the kingdoms into eternal war. The primordial goddess didn''t care much about this. She was focused by Conn for one task: the recovery of that last seed.


    Meanwhile Magic, interbreeding between mortals and spirits and infused godly power mutated mortals, and from these mutations sprung many new branches of mortalkind.


    Nations turned to gods, and gods claimed nations. Drunk with power, the Goddesses turned on each other and sent their nations against one another. They learned to summon spirits to their aid and to harness their own dead.


    Apocalypse after apocalypse washed over the world. Civilizations rose and fell and people forgot how all of their circumstances came to be. In gilded ages, the gods reigned over men, and in tech ages men became gods. And the world grew older, and the world forgot. And the goddess still sought the seed.


    143 seeds went out into the world and thus magic came to mortals.


    And eventually the primordial goddess found what became of that last. The twelve children of the matron became a great and hidden nation. They were my people. They lived around the young tree and learned to use its magic. But even we could not last in isolation. Eventually the others breached the magic hiding the nation and in uncovering us, the Goddess finally found her prize.


    Entwinned in the roots of a young tree, the skeletons of a man and a woman lay in eternal embrace. Fertilized by their souls and their love, the tree flourished and the twelve children and their families all lived and died caring for the tree. The goddess saw what had happened and was content. Without a reason to exist, the goddess could not maintain her focus any longer. She raised as undead the twelve children, all buried around the roots, and put the cores she was made of into their bodies. As deathless¡ªholy undead creatures, they could safely carry a dungeon core to a suitable place. They were the first Dungeon Masters and so began again another age of dungeons.¡±

 Awakening (pt. 2)

    The man paused and fanned his hand toward the mosaics that decorated the walls.


    ¡°I wish, Boots, that you could see this. Here on my walls, the dead of my nation judge me with diamond eyes. It is the story of my people. But you have no eyes to witness and I have no tears to weep over it. Sultan Risaud had a tree that it was said grew from a single seed of a fruit of the daughter of the world tree. t the end of the beginning, but it was the beginning of the end. And so it was fitting that Risaud was a mirror to his progenitor.


    As the tree was the last daughter of the world tree, so Sultan Risaud was the last living steward of it. His lineage was the lineage of the gods. And like his progenitor he also had one-hundred forty four wives, but unlike his progenitor, he was not the last of his kind but the master over a burgeoning and glorious civilization. So powerful was he that all the lesser races called him emperor and even the wyrms entreated him as an equal.


    ¡°but what became of Conn?¡± a female voice interrupted the man.


    ¡°Oh? When did you finally decide to rise up?¡± he asked, his gaze turning from the pictograms and mosaics that illustrated the story he told. The human sat, clutched her head and moaned.


    ¡°What has been done to me? Ugh. What is that noise?¡± she asked. The desiccated man smiled.


    ¡°My voice calms that noise? How interesting. I t is the sound of human souls you hear. Of all races, when humans drink of the waters, they join into a hivemind. Let them speak to you. Drink in their madness and their purpose and you will never be alone."


    "No! Leave me be! Keep talking monster!"


    "Monster. Hah. The sand calls the snow white.  Know that you are blessed to hear the noise. We have eternity before us you know and my world is silent as the stone. Do you know that long ago I took this human body as my husk, hoping to communicate with them and end my silence and solitude. Alas, it is something in the soul, some disconnect between the substance of their world and this. You however, bodyguard of slavers¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ugh. I. . .am a scout of the empire, not some damned mercenary. You. . .I. . .I can''t be. . .undead?"


    "It is the law over those who drink that their bodies should serve the Aryn. You drank from the cistern of souls. Do you think it is water in this pool? How foolish. It is a liquid made of recycled magic distilled through the entire continent from all that is dead and buried beneath the sands. Everything that dies on the sand, every magical object that is lost, every fort that becomes buried, all the magic is leeched and it travels through the sands to this place. Of course you are undead. Is there any other state of being which would befit a person who has imbibed of such a power source?"


    "I didn''t know."


    "Of course you didn''t. But since when has ignorance ever been excused? Even the Falli, in their fear and hatred of the undead, send to me their criminals with the charge that should they reach me, they would be absolved of their crimes. But you are of this nation called Donem. If you are an imperial scout and not a mercinary, why are you guarding a merchant caravan?"


    The woman loked at her hands, pale and bloodless.


    "They ordered me to be of Decius¡¯s detail. Decius is the bastard son of the regent. We--Ugh. Please. Continue, storyteller. What became of Conn? Tell me more of the story. I have been listening. But whenever you pause it¡¯s like cicaidas in my brain. They tell me to start tearing at my skin. Please.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t fight them dear. They are the voices of your brethren. They are warning you that your transfomation is not complete. Rogha are creatures of this world and they cannot change, but you, human, must be warped to the will of the world. It is the language of the dead you hear; a language without breath, and it is supposed to be a mercy not a curse. Let them teach you. Let them welcome you. They are the voices of your family.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± asked the scout. The man shrugged.


    ¡°I am just the unliving and accursed steward over this place. I am the only accursed one out of all the dead which exist here.¡±


    ¡°Stop this clicking and buzzing. Please.¡±


    The man regarded the woman. She went prostrate before him, her hands clutching her head.


    ¡°You are of strong mind and stronger magic. Let me taste your blood," he said. He crooked a bony finger. The woman jerked and shambled toward him. He stabbed his finger into her chest and put the gory bones into his mouth. Then he barked a laugh.


    "Ah! No wonder you can her but cannot understand. Your blood is impure, human. Did you know? Your blood has traces of my race in it. Are there others like you? Are there pure ones among you? I command you to tell me!"


    "I--I--" he shoved her away and sucked at his finger.


    "Of course not. No. How silly of me. My kind were wiped out, weren''t they? If any now exist, they are immortal and incapable of breeding. Yes, that is as it is. Your species and mine lingered long together. It should not be a surprise, should it? Both yours and mine had an ability to intermingle with other sentient races and even with planar creatures. I had nearly forgotten. I didn''t realize. Now it comes to me. How many of your kind fled for the stars with all the magic of my race? How many more died sterile? But the Donem empire bears a lineage, doesn''t it. The Falli don''t. They are purely human. The Aryn leeched the legacy of intermingling with my species out of their genetics long ago."


    "I am no halfbreed."


    "No, of course you aren''t are you? No, but I taste it in your blood don''t I. It is there, buried a hundred thousand years in your ancestry, but there nonetheless. It has to be so, else you would not be able to use this world''s magic. It is too bad that you had the life of a soldier and a shame you died before you could become a magus. It is the curse of mortals that they are not defined by their potential, but by their limitations.¡±


    "You should kill this one," said Boots, "She slayed a hundred of my sisters before she captured us. She alone."


    "You beasts are the reason I was ordered into Decius''s caravan! Of course I slayed you. That is what you do with vicious, runaway dogs."


    "And now you are dead, enemy of freedom. Dead and enslaved to the Aryn."


    The old man turned his back to the newly undead.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "I do not appreciate my wards fighting in this chamber. It is a holy place."


    "Unholy!" said the woman, and drew her sword. The man''s eyes fleared with red light and the sword flew out of her hand, spun in the air between them, and embedded in her chest. She sank to her knees and stared at the hilt. He leaned over her.


    "Do not attempt to slay me or your sister. Violence against your fellows is forbidden. This is a place of peace and rebirth. Your name."


    "I am Regala of Teliss, scout of the 3rd colonial legion," she said, the words ripped from her before she could stop them.


    "And your purpose," he said. She began to tear at her throat, but the man caught her hands. Blood leaked down her cheeks.


    "My contubernium was attached to this caravan," she said, her voice strained, "Decius had a slave revolt in his estate and these rogha were part of it. This one led it. His personal waterfinder! The lizard he let sleep at the foot of his bed! Such betrayal demanded his direct intervention. We set out to gather and either slay them or sell them. Only this waterfinder and her closest conspirators were to come back with us to be made an example to all slaves."


    She slumped as the man released her.


    "The Rogha will not be chained any longer!" said Boots.


    "Silence! You are both servants of the sands now. Cease your infighting."


    "As you wish, Gedhaki," said Boots. She grinned, revealing all her carnivorous teeth. She settled, staring with empty sockets at Regala. The man tore the sword out of Regala''s chest and flung it away. His eyes blazed with wrath. What little flesh hung from his cheeks turned down in a scowl. Liquid dripped from the stalactite into the pool: one. . .two. . .three. . .


    ¡°AH! Please! No! The voices!" Regala cried, clutching her head. Bloody tears dripped from her eyes. Boots chuckled.


    "I am sorry I asked for her true death, Gedhaki. I can smell her tears. Is she to be tortured like this for eternity?"


    "Conn. . .tell me about Conn,¡± said Regala, "No more silence, please! Make the noise stop!"


    The man shook his head.


    ¡°You should tell a story first, I think. The Aryn has heard all my stories, though I think this is the first time it has truly gained the intelligence to comprehend my words. Tell it something new. Tell me of Donem. Is your leader an elected man of the people or a god among men?¡¯


    ¡°A god,¡± said the scout. She clutched her right arm where a tattoo of a legion stood out in blue-black ink.


    ¡°How would he react if he met you as you now are? I have heard that he despises the undead, but you are a sacred type of undead.¡±


    ¡°You speak blasphemy. The rogha are beasts and the Faryn are irredeemable necromancers. All the races of the Aryn are corrupt and foul and will be subjugated and taught the right ways. The emperor with magic brought beneath his scepter the lord of the damned and took his blood,¡± said the scout. ¡°There can be no sacred undead. The emperor has a mandate to return the undead to their proper places in the beyond,¡± She said. "I will find a way to destroy myself before I will give in to these voices or your evil plans."


    ¡°Oh, interesting. I would have the name of this emperor and this lord of the damned that he drank from.¡±


    ¡°You are insane,¡± said the scout. ¡°You already know it. You mock me.¡±


    The Scout suddenly went rigid, her eyes glowing red. A line formed down the center of her face. The Man frowned and scratched his papery skin. Sheets sloughed off and reformed under his fingers. He kneeled down in front of her and lifted her chin.


    ¡°You know, it may be true. It may be that Arynstar is a dream I made up to comfort myself in my long solitude. I have had eons to make up stories and spread them around the world. Maybe the stories I tell are not of the past, but of the future. Maybe they are of whole other realities! I have seen creatures come from beyond the stars. I have seen gods die. I have broken my mind and returned to sanity. I have seen mortal heroes that appear out of nowhere and use this world as a sporting field. There is no telling what is real or linear anymore. Tell me the names I asked for.¡±


    ¡°I serve my Emperor, Tarquin Donem, the first of his name. And you, you knew Conn. Tell me of Conn accursed one. Nobody knows tales of the lord of the damned, but only that my lord slew him.¡±


    The man reeled away from her. He stared at Regala and watched as the line in her flesh traced down her median. And then he laughed. His laughter pealed with madness and rumbled with malice. He laughed until the other three began to twitch and rise, and the indigo light fled from the hermitage.


    ¡°And so, the world is without a single titan. No wonder the stars are right. If we are the amusement of the outer planes, the creatures there seem to like binge-watching in one specific genera, no matter how clich¨¦ its conventions. Conn is dead by a mortal hand. The prey becomes the predator. Humans always did use the most unconventional ways.¡± he said. He turned his back to the undead on the floor and considered the mural of tangled images on the wall. Soon, indigo light filtered back in.


    ¡°Did I frighten you, my godling? I am sorry. But such news. . .I can sense the truth there. Conn is truly dead then. Donem must be a truly wondrous empire. No, speak no more, Regala my daughter. Just listen and be comforted by my voice. I will finish my tale. I will tell you who I truly am while you still have the ability to hear."


    "Your name is not Gedhaki?" asked Boots. The man chuckled.


    "No indeed. Your race gave me that name and I find it amusing. Do you know, I don''t think I have given another my name in tens of millenia. I cant explain to you my name simply. You wouldn''t understand the significance. In human understanding, in the language of the Falli I suppose you might call me Risaud the Sane. And I prefer that. It is a nice lie. I chose to become a lich. It was the only way to stop the insanity and to end the addiction to the fruit of the tree. But while I was dubbed ¡®The Sane¡¯ because I chose this state of being, my father was not and refused to give up his life. You see, Sultan Risaud the Mad was the nine-thousanth of his line. He was, as I am, the genetic singularity of those very twelve which became the first dungeon masters. Risaud the Mad had a hundred forty-four wives and all of them were as close in genetics to him as a twin. And in his garden grew a tree.


    That tree was the only one of its kind, this granddaughter of the world tree, and we worshipped that tree. The fruit of the tree granted just the kind of shortcut to immortality that mortals always seek. It was not as potent as the true world tree, but we alone of mortalkind could eat of it because the seed had germinated within our bodies and was fertilized with our souls.


    For millenia, the families who partook in the fruit became powerful but also gradually insane. Blessed and cursed with agelessness and incorruptibility of form, they had only one option: to kill themselves before madness overtook their reason. Sultan Risaud¡¯s madness led him to resist death. He feared it above all things. Looking for a solution to the inevitable He cut down that tree. Ah. . .¡±


    Risaud tapped the scout on the head with his staff. She split in half and spilled her blood out all at once. Clothed, she could not fall apart so she prostrated herself.


    ¡°My dear, it won¡¯t hurt forever. You have amazing abilities that you will need to develop before I send you back out into the world. You are a nasn¨¡s now. Give me a sign that you understand. Tell me my name."


    ¡°You are Risaud the Sane,¡± she said. He touched her clothes with his staff and they fell apart in a puff of magic. The two halves of her body fell apart from each other. One half got up and hopped off. The other sat back down and waited for Risaud to continue.


    ¡°Do you know what I like about the nasn¨¡s? You get two for the price of one,¡± he said. ¡°Do you feel better?¡±


    ¡°The cicadas have stopped. Thank you,¡± she said. Risaud embraced the half that remained. she struggled a little, then broke down and sobbed into his rags.


    "The part that has joined the hive was the human in you. It is gone now. Sister. Daughter. Do you know? this half of you must be what has always belonged to this world. You are my kin. One of my species returns to the Star at last."


    She shuddered as her innards began functioning again. Her exposed heart quivered and pumped in a mockery of life. The contents of her intestines disappeared as they crossed into the missing hemisphere of her body and reappeared lower in the tract. Color returned to her face and blood pulsed in her exposed brain. She took a breath and her half-diaphragm pushed innards away to make room for a single inflated lung. Risaud released her and she looked down at her body, her face a mask of horror.


    "Your body mimics life, but you are still unliving," said Risaud.


    "I know," said Regala. She stuck a finger in a bronchial tube.


    ¡°Would you like me to continue now?¡± Risaud asked.


    ¡°More stories?¡± came the voice of the Aryn; the first it had ever spoken in the tongues of creatures in a frequency that could be heard.


    The single question vibrated in the air. The cave rumbled and the magical light ceased, plunging the cave into darkness.


    And Risaud laughed.

 Deathless Dreaming (Brishauna arc)

    Brishauna tossed in her sleep. Springs dug into her side. The edge of the bed against her back made her open her eyes.


    Her phone buzzed against the metal of the filing cabinet that served as her nightstand. She balanced precariously on the edge of comfort, unwilling to turn over to get it. She reached over her head and grabbed the phone, wincing as the too-bright backlight assaulted her eyes.


    Notifications:


    Battery Saver 15% power.


    Erisnet notifications


    Hey, are you alive? (coPiOuS, 7:30pm)


    Are we on tonight? (19AndrewS, 7:35pm)


    Guess not. *tear* (coPiOuS, 8:00pm)


    Brishauna groaned and looked at the corner of her screen. 11:38pm. Damn. Another missed session. She opened Erisnet and looked down the long conversations.


    Sorry guys, fell asleep after work. (BTimeWiz342, 11:39pm)


    She pressed the button on the back, turning off the eye stabbing screen. Eyes blasted by it, the room descended into absolute darkness. She didn¡¯t feel good. Yes, the ten-hour shift at the hospital left her hollow and soulless, it usually did, but she also felt physically sick. Groaning, she shifted, leaned over the edge of her bed and pawed around at the junk on the floor looking for everything. Her glasses hit her knuckles first. She set them on the bedstand. Used notebooks and unopened mail, books and empty paper plates, red plastic cups with markers, old tissues, plastic game miniatures and pencil cases brushed against her fingertips.


    She grasped a cool wire and felt the texture; the power cord to the alarm clock. A second cord felt smooth. A game controller? She leaned precariously over, felt a mesh coated cable and grabbed for it. Her hips overbalanced. She abandoned the cord, grabbed for the sheets, the pillows, the headboard; anything to stop her tumble.


    Thud.


    ¡°Ow.¡± She said. Cool stone broke her fall. ¡°What the hell?¡± she fumbled over her head for the phone on the filing cabinet, but more stone greeted her hand. She rubbed her eyes until bright stars flashed in her vision. She pinched herself. Then she realized that her arms no longer wore sleeves.


    Stone grated against stone. A vertical sliver of light yawned into a square. A sillouhette filled the blinding whiteness.


    ¡°Hold, sleeper. Please!¡± a male voice called out to her. An orb of light floated out from the whiteness and settled in a chandelier.


    The whole structure rumbled. The ground pitched and she lost her balance. A pale hand reached out to her. She took it, her hand in stark contrast to his both in color and temperature. She let him pull her to her feet. The structure rumbled again. She looked at the pointy-eared white face of the elf who had helped her up.


    ¡°Alive?¡± asked the pale elf, ¡°How is it possible?¡±


    ¡°What the hell?¡± she asked. Her mind whirled, the stone groaned, and light fizzled through runes etched into the marble walls.


    Knowledge slammed into her brain: Necropolis at Akel; the rim above the desert Aryn, the dungeon of Ov. The elf; undead. Am I Alive? No, whispered the knowledge flooding into her brain.


    ¡°Deathless,¡± she said. The understanding of the template filtered through her substance. The elf sucked air through his teeth.


    ¡°That makes more sense,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m in the game world? Is this a dream?¡± she asked. the elf smirked.


    ¡°Dreamers don¡¯t ask of citizens of their dream whether they are dreaming.¡±


    ¡°Is this Akel above Ov?¡±


    ¡°Of course it is, sleeper. Come! Come quickly.¡±


    ¡°What is happening?¡±


    ¡°Too many things. Seige. You. Them,¡± he said as he led her out into a hallway. Shambling things crowded the edge of the elf¡¯s light. Red eyes glowed in the darkness, too many to count. The stone hallway reeked of death, rot, spices and blood.


    ¡°The undead?¡±


    ¡°They are not entirely sentient.¡±


    ¡°They want to eat me?¡±


    ¡°To welcome you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m naked,¡± said Brishauna.


    ¡°Oh, of course. Let¡¯s get you clothed for battle. Come on. The wardrobes and armorers are upstairs.¡±


    He led her by the hand through the press of undead bodies in the hallway. The corpses followed as they hustled, creaking and farting as they moved. The smell made her stomach flip-flop but nothing came up.


    ¡°Why are they following us?¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°They desire to join the battle upstairs. It has awakened all of them. They are ravenous.¡±


    ¡°Why are they down here then?¡± she asked. He halted in front of a blank stone wall.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said. ¡°There should be a door here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sleeper. There is nobody inside the fort to let us out.¡±


    ¡°You locked yourself out of your own fort?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. The gatekeeper was killed.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°It is the only way it could be. I left him with an order to let me out within three days. That was five weeks ago. We despaired of being able to help our descendants.¡±


    ¡°You are not a member of the Akel Necropolis,¡± she said, ¡°The wards can¡¯t hold you.¡±


    ¡°That would be the other reason I know the gatekeeper is dead. When a gatekeeper dies, the necropolis goes on lockdown. Even I can¡¯t pass the door.¡±


    ¡°You expected that you should be able to? What are you?¡±


    ¡°I am a servant of the Aryn. You know, an Imbiber of the waters? Does this mean anything to you?¡±


    ¡°You have been to the navel of the world,¡± said Brishauna.


    ¡°Donem has brought the star to the keeper of the Aryn. I was sent to bring news to the forts that still fight. I did not expect to be entrapped,¡± he said. More knowledge flooded her mind.


    ¡°The lich-lord.¡±


    ¡°He has made it known that his name is Risaud the Sane,¡± said the elf.


    ¡°So, you want me to what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Open the gate.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not alive either.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re deathless. Strictly speaking, you were never alive because you were not born in this world and so death cannot touch you.¡±


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense. I was just¡ª¡±


    ¡°You can tell me where your consciousness resided before now later, sleeper. Just try as I asked now. It might be just enough to trip the safeties. Put your hand on the door. Please, sleeper.¡±


    ¡°What will happen?¡±


    ¡°The humans have sieged this place. What happens when you let the undead out of any space they are tasked with protecting? But if that troubles you, think upon the consequences of letting the humans open this door. Do you want the Empire to have one more dungeon to exploit?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Brishauna said and slapped her hand on the wall.


    Magic snapped under her palm. Mechanisms in the wall groaned and clanked. The whole wall began to rotate. As soon as a sliver opened up wide enough for a body, The undead crowded her out of the way and streamed out of the necropolis.


    ¡°That was unpleasant,¡± said the elf, dusting himself off, ¡°Well, what are you waiting for? Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Go where?¡±


    ¡°To get you some clothes, obviously. There is a battle. How should I equip you? What is your class? Magus? Fighter? Priestess? Rogue?¡±


    ¡°Dungeon master,¡± she said. The elf¡¯s jaw dropped. He backed away from her.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± he said.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Every sleeper comes with a class. Dungeon master is not a class. It¡¯s--¡±


    ¡°Look, elf, I haven¡¯t actually played this game in years, OK? Nobody ever lets me. I never have time. I just run mods and work on my homebrew. I have an Erisnet server and about three games a week that I run but I never get to play. I don¡¯t even have a character. If I am not dreaming then I have stumbled into some isekai¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a class? Nothing? You can¡¯t be. Risaud said nothing about this!¡±


    ¡°My name is Brishauna Foreman. I am a nurse at Rose County General Hospital. I work eighty hours a week. I haven¡¯t felt healthy in months. I just overslept my Wednesday night session and let my players down, my cell phone is about dead and I fell out of bed into a whole different world where I¡¯m not even alive; a world I have been dreaming about for years.¡±


    Brishauna stepped over the threshold between the necropolis and the fort. She knelt down and pulled at a hand sticking out of a pile of stone. The whole fort rumbled again, loosing more stone in the hallway around them. A dead elf slid out of the rubble, his eyes staring into nothing.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he supposed to get up? Don¡¯t Faryn just rise up after they die?¡±


    ¡°Your knowledge doesn¡¯t tell you?¡±


    ¡°My knowledge tells me a lot about. . .not the Faryn. Not yet, anyway. It says a lot about the race that was here before the Faryn. All I know about you right now is the template modifiers to the vanilla elf stats and a brief blurb about how you all are necromancers and none of you stay dead.¡±


    ¡°It takes alchemical reagents and complex spells to activate them. All of those we just loosed? Every one of them went through a nine-week process to preserve their bodies. Their souls had to endure complete isolation the entire time and to a soul in that state, evey second is an eternity. They had to go through so much. My trials were a shortcut by comparison. We don¡¯t just reanimate automatically like common ghouls.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ve been playing your race wrong the whole time.¡±


    ¡°Playing. . .¡±


    ¡°Representing. I¡¯m a Dungeon master, ok? Faryn aren¡¯t a playable race, but they are in my homebrew. But then. . .the books were written from the perspective of Donem, weren¡¯t they?¡± she looked at the corpse on the floor, then at the elf.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry. I have to get out of here. I don¡¯t belong. I can¡¯t belong. I must¡¯ave hit my head on something. I have to wake up.¡±


    Brishauna stood and ran down the crumbling hallway. The floor pitched under her feet. Magic tingled in her fingertips. Nakedness suddenly didn¡¯t matter. Nothing mattered except getting out of the tangle of passages and into the sunlight. The knowledge put a map in her mind¡¯s eye.


    The sound of battle reached her ears before a trace of sunlight pierced her eyes. She opened a bronze door onto a battlement and raced out into the sunlight. The elf padded after her, his heelbones clicking on the stone.


    ¡°Wait, no!¡± the elf called out. Brishauna stopped and stared onto the field below. Screams of agony filled the smoky air. Sixteen stories down, humans shrieked and fled the battlefield. The undead crawled over the dead in a wave of gnashing teeth. Her stomach did flip-flops again.


    ¡°Get back, you¡¯ll be destroyed!¡± he called from the doorway. Sixteen arrows blossomed in her chest and she staggered, staring at them. A seventeenth pegged her in the center of her forehead.


    She sank to her knees and looked up at the sun, a blue-white spot in the sky with an orange belt around its equator¡ªjust as the book described it, a quark star with a yellow and a red sun orbiting it so swiftly that you couldn¡¯t tell from the planet¡¯s surface that there was more than one, so far away that those equatorial suns looked tiny, but the solar complex imparted light to the planet as bright as the sun of earth.


    Cold hands dragged her back into the shelter of the doorway. A magical blast rocked the tower and destroyed the battlements.


    ¡°Holy shit I¡¯m not dreaming,¡± she said.


    ¡°No. Did you have to run outside naked just to figure that out?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said.


    ¡°Did you figure out what the knowledge in your head had to teach?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not alive.¡±


    ¡°That much is obvious.¡±


    ¡°I am a dungeon master.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I believe you. Now can we get you an extraction and a robe? I will have to take this news back to my lord. If Ov has a dungeonmaster again, the other eleven dungeons in the rim might also have them soon if they don''t already. The end times are truly upon us.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Twelve deathless ones guarded the tree, each bearing a core. Most tales in the Aryn repeat themselves over and over again as sure as the sun wheels around the rim. But there is no tree in the Aryn and there are no dungeon cores in any of the twelve. Even Risaud understands this legend to be dead. You can¡¯t be a dungeon master if you have no core to bear.¡±


    ¡°There has to be, doesn¡¯t there? If I am here and the knowledge tells me about what I am, then Ov''s core has to be somewhere in this place. If not here, then I guess I will just have to find where it has gone.¡±

 Being Deathless (Brishauna arc, creature template)

    Deathless


    Temlate, Template override


    While the undead are more well known, other dead things roam the land that take some semblance of the living. Some of them are transformed by deities, some are the victims of ancient magics, some were never born mortal in the world and were pulled from other realities into corpses, and some were elevated from the condition of undeath. Some cultures revere the deathless as ¡°holy undead¡± but this doesn¡¯t change the horrifying nature of the condition. A deathless creature is still something that has had its soul fused to a corpse. The most horrifying trait unifying this state of being is that the template is <u>never</u> applied to a creature that has had the freedom to choose not to accept this template.


    This template may be applied to any living or undead corporeal creature with a base awareness stat circle of 10 or greater. Creatures with an awareness stat lower than 10 may not become deathless, even if awareness enhancing magics are applied. The condition demands an eternal sense of the self as separate from the natural order. Non-corporeal creatures cannot become deathless.


    Change creature type to deathless. Undead creatures retain the traits of their undead type except where specified in this template. This template overries the Undead modifier.


    If applying this template from a living base creature, Change Constitution circle to Durability. Creature must reallocate points freed by this change. See Durability vs. Constitution, PGAT  pg. 326, DMTB pg. 56


    Immunities: poison, disease, aging, effects affecting constitution, effects affecting awareness, effects affecting undead, turn undead, nonlethal damage, vital hits, critical hits


    Vulnerable to null-magic: deathless creatures can¡¯t exist long in a null-magic zone and will suffocate if put into one. While in a null-magic zone, apply the suffocating condition changing the wording for the condition to affect durability instead of Constitution. Deathless can take a deep ¡°breath¡± if it knows it is going to enter a null-magic zone. Deathless in a null-magic zone can also consume the living to save themselves for a limited time. Deathless that reach -20 HP within a null-magic zone are destroyed without a save. Note that this is different from an undead which will reanimate if removed from a null-magic zone. Deathless creatures suffocate in null-magic no matter if the base creature had resistance or immunity to drowning or suffocation in life and will suffocate according to the base table for suffocation. If the base creature had resistance or immunity to drowning or suffocation, remove this trait and reallocate points if points were used to acquire this trait.    See suffocation and drowning, PGAT pg. 39


    Breath of the dead: deathless creatures breathe the ambient magic of the area they are in to power their forms. It looks, for all intents and purposes, identical to a living creature breathing air. Deathless do not require lungs to breathe, they just go through this motion of respiration as if they were breathing air. Even skeletal deathless do this and their ribs expand and contract as if there was flesh behind them. Magic being a pervasive trait of the world, this does not usually pose a problem unless the creature is in a limited magic area, such as a bubble of normal space within a zone of null-magic. Deathless are also affected by the saturation of magic in an area in the same way that living creatures are affected by the saturation of breathable air. Deathless perceive peaks and valleys in magic saturation the way that the living perceive physical terrain. A deathless creature moving from an area of high magic saturation to low mimics the way that high altitude affects the living. See optional rules: Effects of Terrain on Characters, sidebar DMTB pg 397, table DMTB appendix 2, pg III.


    Saving throws vs. Death: Except where specified in this template, deathless have a saving throw vs. death identical to living creatures but using their awareness circle in place of constitution. To clarify, durability does not affect the final death of a deathless creature. Instead, the ultimate test of the creature¡¯s continuation is their awareness in their union of mind, soul and body. Deathless in the HP range of -1 to -19 are impaired, not unconscious.  A deathless creature in danger of final death (-20 hp) must save vs. destruction. A deathless creature cannot choose to give up a save. They cannot reroll successes. They are cursed to use up all saving throws, luck points (npc characters)and action chits(PC characters) in an attempt to roll the correct number of successes. Deathless cannot critically fail a death save. Treat a ¡°1¡± as a normal failure. Deathless cannot give up on their existence or commit suicide. Attempts to do so automatically fail. See save vs. death, PGAT pg 45


    Immune to disintegration: a peculiar effect that deathless share with true immortals. When an effect would disintegrate, immolate, splatter, dissolve or otherwise reduce a deathless creature¡¯s body to motes of seemingly irredeemable size, deathless creatures save vs. death as normal. If a save is successful, a deathless creature¡¯s body reforms itself in 1d4-1 days at the location its body was seemingly destroyed. This is an incredibly painful event. Deathless returning in this manner take 2 points of damage to all stats on durability and awareness circles for 1d4+1 days. Deathless that fail their save still reform, but as a normal corpse.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Lifelike: Deathless have the appearance of being alive. They have a body temperature if their base creature was endothermic. Undead that become deathless retain their exothermic nature. If they became deathless without being previously undead they can bleed if they have flesh, though the ¡°blood¡± is not vital and does not confer the ¡°bleeding¡± status effect. They can eat, though, like the undead, they do not excrete waste. They can cry, sweat, spit, and create other fluids as they did in life. Their hair, feathers, scales, teeth and nails continue to grow. This trait can result in some disturbing appearances, such as in the case of the nasn¨¡s, which are bisected vertically, resulting in a creature with apparently fully functioning organs exposed.


    Flesh addiction: cooked food is not palatable to the deathless. Neither is flesh of other deathless creatures. Plant matter is also indigestible. Undead with a requirement to consume something of the living retain their requirement when they become deathless and their requirement does not count as an addiction according to the tables for addiction. For example, vampires that become deathless must still consume blood in accordance with the vampire template and it will not affect them the way it would a normal deathless. Unless otherwise specified all deathless can consume the living even though they have no real need to do so, their ¡°breathing¡± supplies all they need to exist. Therefore eating and drinking is almost purely a recreational activity. Consuming living flesh¡ªthat is eating from creatures while they are still alive, produces a stimulant effect similar to cocaine; consuming any flesh touched by undeath produces a barbiturate effect similar to opium; consuming normal dead flesh¡ªprepared as in bought from a butcher or scavenged is similar to caffeine, preserved flesh similar to alcohol, normal rotting flesh similar to marijuana, Drinking blood extracted from a living source produces various effects depending on the source but is always euphoric similar to MDMA. Undead blood produces an effect similar to PCP. Deathless can easily become addicted to consuming and addiction as well as coming clean follows the rules for those specific types of drugs. See addiction and addictive substances, DMTB pg. 123


    Healing the deathless: all deathless regenerate at a rate of 10 HP per round of combat as long as the character has positive hit points. HP is regained at the start of the charater''s turn. If reduced to 0 or less, the regeneration process halts. If a deathless requires healing magic to speed the process, or a deathless has become impaired (-1hp to -20hp) the deathless can use normal healing spells--the only exception to the restriction of immunity to effects targeting living creatures. They do not benefit from any healing effect affecting the undead. Deathless always return to the physical state they were in at the moment they received the deathless template.


    Augmenting or debilitating the deathless: Deathless, undead, immortals, extraplanar entities, deities and constructs are all entities powered in some capacity by pure magic. In this case, the undead are the ones with the exception to rules governing creatures powered by pure magic. Deathless are immune to augments that specifically target living and undead creatures. They can receive status effects that affect objects and constructs and any effect which specifically affects immortals. There are also rare effects which specifically target the deathless. Note to DM¡ªmost magic users are extremely unlikely to have access to deathless targeting spells unless they are necromancers or priests of death gods. Even then, the condition is rare enough that those that know a trick or two would consider them curiosities rather than spells or prayers of necessity. This rarity would also apply to players seeking access to such spells or prayers.


    Sterile: Deathless can have sex¡ªand even enjoy doing so, but they cannot procreate. Undead that become deathless cannot pass on their condition. For example, the bite of a deathless ghoul cannot make the victim turn into a ghoul. The victim may simply die from venom in ghoul saliva. Deathless cannot spread disease even if their base creature was once capable of it. This includes both magical and normal diseases. Deathless cannot make other deathless and cannot use magic to produce undead of any kind.


    Stalwart mind: Deathless are immune to psionic magics and any effect affecting the mind. Conversely, they are also incapable of using effects which affect the minds of others. Examples of spells which deathless cannot use and cannot be affected by: discern truth, Eddy¡¯s inescapable fact serum, dominate, aura sight, telepathy, seduction, illusion. Base creatures and Undead which could use mind altering abilities lose these abilities.


    Stable form: Deathless cannot shapeshift nor can they be affected by shapeshifting magic. Creatures which had a shapeshifting template in life, such as therianthropy, lose this template with all the status changes it conferred. Creatures with a natural ability to shift also lose this ability. For example, creatures such as dragons lose the ability to shift into any creature. Vampires lose their ability to shift into animals or mist. Fay lose the ability to change size. Druids cannot shift into animals. Deathless are immune to spells with these effects.


    Environmental considerations: if the base creature is vulnerable, immune or resistant to specific environmental conditions, they retain the trait. If a character class confers resistance or immunity, it is retained. If the character has the trait as a result of experience point allocation, it is retained. If the character gained the trait as a result of having a previous undead template, the trait is removed¡ªthe undead vulnerability to sunlight, for example. Deathless cannot go below -1HP as a result of damage due to extreme environmental conditions (extreme heat, cold, vacuum, radiation).


    HP dice: as base creature or as undead template. If the creature has levels in character classes, these also apply.

 Echoes of Oppenheimer

    Akel above Ov


    ¡°Oh god,¡± Brishuauna said, pausing with her hands deep in a rogha corpse. She withdrew them and stared at long finger bones around which raw umber flesh looked vacuum sealed or freeze fried. Were these her hands? The tips ended in blunt claws, not nails. Three fingers, a thumb on each side of the palm and a clawless nub where her pinkies should be were all coated in blood and viscera and. . .she licked it off with a tongue that wrapped around her wrist to get at it. ¡°No!¡± she said, forcing her hand away from her mouth. But it tasted delicious. She wanted more.


    ¡°Oh, god,¡±  she said again, backing away, the spray of blood rolling off her fingers onto the white sand.


    ¡°Brishauna,¡± said a male voice, his tone full of caution. She looked up into a desiccated face containing burning red eye sockets without orbs.


    ¡°Oh, god,¡± she said, backing away from the man with the withered visage.


    ¡°She¡¯s going blank again,¡± said a female. Brishauna wheeled away from the voice, tripped over the rogha, and fell into the sand. Hands grabbed and held her.


    Flash


    The burning runes ended their work in her mind. The map in her mind¡¯s eye lit with a blue-white marker. It called her to a small room deep in the map labeled ¡°Akel Necropolis.¡± She looked back and forth between the two dead things staring at her. The female reached out a linen wrapped hand. Her and cool and bloody three-fingered hand traced a line from cheekbone to jowl. The eyes that met hers blazed red behind milky cataracts.


    ¡°Brishauna,¡± she said with a lipless maw full of spiked teeth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t eat me!¡± she said, struggling against the leathery arms of the man adjusting his grip into an arm bar. More voices laughed at her. The female put a hand on the other side of her face. She pinched the lobes of her ears.


    ¡°Brishauna,¡± she said again.


    ¡°Who are you people?¡±


    Flash.


    Words scrolled next to the map. ¡°Download complete. Go to your crypt. Go now!¡±


    A timer glared in her vision. 4:38. . .4:37. . .4:36. . .


    ¡°Let me go! Oh god let me go!¡±


    ¡°Go where?¡± asked the man holding her.


    ¡°My crypt!¡± she said. The hands released her. She stumbled, crawled a few paces, got to her hands and feet, then stood upright. The undead chased after her. The gates opened. People, delicious smelling, living people dashed out of her way as she fled for her crypt, the tiny room deep in the necropolis. Alarms sounded deep in the fort. The necropolis door yawned open. The gatekeeper, awake, alive, and reeking of herbs and alchemy, held out a hand. A blue bubble surrounded him as she passed by.


    2:22. . .2:21. . .2.20. . .


    The boom of the necropolis door slapped her in the back of the head. Dead things scrambled to get out of her way. She missed a doorway to a downstairs passage, her feet sliding on the polished stone floor, and crashed headlong into a table full of metal and glass artifacts. She got to her feet and raced down the stairs, tearing an ornamental dagger out of her gut. It clanked as it hit the wall and then the stairs. The click of undead feet against the stone paused.


    ¡°Stop chasing me!¡± she said.


    ¡°Brishauna!¡± the female thing called. Brishauna didn¡¯t pause.


    1:53. . .1:52. . .1:51


    ¡°Haste!¡± Brishauna cried, tracing a blue-white design in the air. The spell slammed into her like a spider web. The black and white scenery blurred around her. She crashed into the walls, the tables, the floor, the vases; tripped and fell head over heels. Her left arm snapped at the bicep and flopped as she ran, slid and crashed her way down the twisting passages of the lower necropolis.


    Stucco and marble finally blended with natural, runeworked stone. The polished marble floor gave way to sandstone. The sounds of indignation, shock and alarm echoed all around her.


    0:20. . .0:19. . .0:18


    The door slid open in front of her, for only her, and she slid into her crypt, her legs failing underneath her. Nothing worked. Her body just ceased its function in every way, leaving her prone on the floor of her crypt, blood spreading out all around her, face upward to the chandelier on the ceiling.


    The fizzing runes circled around the chandelier. Spent runes filled every surface of the crypt except these. These glowed blue-white still. All the other ones had no illumination and decorated the walls in dead black, magicless script.


    The door crunched shut.


    0:03. . .0:02. . .0:01. . .


    The script fizzed down to the base of the chandelier. The chandelier glowed.


    Absolute light.


    Brishauna screamed as magic flowed into every pore, wound and orifice. Every particle of her being felt pulled apart with the nerve fibers still intact, exposed to the air, and stretched thin. Two bodies stood in front of her and within her. One, human, dressed in pajamas, hair in a satin night rag, held up a hand. Her sad, tired eyes stared at the other. Connected by those stretched fibers, the other had graying umber flesh; dead. The same as the hands coated in gore. The other being lifted a hand with two thumbs, three fingers and a fleshy nub instead of a pinky. Elfish ears jutted out of a bush of black hair.


    Her hands. Her ears. Her hair. Both the human and the alien had the same face, but the alien clearly had no life. Brishauna chuckled in her mind. The human didn¡¯t have much of a life either. Eighty hours a week, hospital cafeteria food. No friends outside of the internet. No family. No time for church.  No time, even, to go to the club or to the game shop like she used to.


    Above the human¡¯s head, the name Brishauna Foreman deleted, one letter at a time until her surname vanished. The cursor stopped there. The same name appeared and hovered above the alien. Then the name disappeared from above the human head.


    And then the fibers snapped.


    The human version of Brishauna crumpled and turned to dust.


    ¡°No!¡± Brishauna cried.


    Absolute darkness.


    Nearly absolute darkness.


    A cursor blinked there.


    Etherium transfer complete.


    Interworld systems Inc. GUI v.1.33


    Loading. . .starting.


    Welcome to Idron. Final worldsynch in progress. No more updates available.


    Applying race. . .complete


    Applying templates. . .complete


    Applying class interface. . .complete


    Initializing Worldbookd. . .


    Releasing daemons . . .binding daemons. . .


    Idron worldbook ready


    Restoring creature.


    Restoring state. . .done


    <u>view species</u>


    <u>view template </u>


    <u>view augment</u>


    Template override: Deathless <u>view override</u>


    Class: Dungeon Master <u>view class</u>


    Warning!


    Worldbuilder class detected. Insane Template detected. Impossible override detected. Unique race detected. Template incompatible with event *Divine Intervention*


    Error!


    Forbidden class. Forbidden template. Forbidden augment. Forbidden override. Checking. . .Checking. . .checking. . .Stolen story; please report.


    Done.


    Special permission authorization code 431842993-99200-001


    <blockquote>


    Dear user:


    You have been granted an experimental build. The requirements and reasons for and of your build demanded the death of your human body. Sorry. Authorities have been alerted. Don¡¯t take it too hard. Adventure is what you make of the unknown. Go make some. Good fortune, Dungeon Master--Trine Moon Publishing LLC, Interworld systems Inc. Interworld Extractive ltd. Erisnet interglobal partnership LLC. 2020 C.E.E.


    </blockquote>


    The chandelier flared one more time and shattered.


    ¡°No. . .¡± Brishauna said. Dead? Dead on Earth? That wasn¡¯t supposed to happen. Wasn¡¯t a person in an isekai supposed to learn that at the end of the adventure? Who the hell was Interworld? And Erisnet was involved?


    ¡°Why are you doing this to me?¡±


    An Erisnet user agreement popped up. The fine print scrolled past her face and settled on a subparagraph deep in the document.


    <blockquote>


    Content on Erisnet will always be free of monetary requirement. As part of the agreement to participate in Erisnet free of charge, the user must give up autonomous rights to their soul. Optionally, users may enroll in Erisnet Premium and avoid this cosmic entanglement.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said.


    She knew about that caveat. It made the news when it was added on April 1, 2017 at launch. She¡¯d read it and chuckled at it. The line in the user agreement made headlines upon launch. When asked for comment, Erisnet replied that they simply wanted to see how many souls they could hypothetically harvest. At launch, hers wasn¡¯t one of them. She¡¯d signed up for premium when it was offered because she valued the company¡¯s idea and the only way to show appreciation to a company was to give it money. Erisnet Premium turned out to be a monthly subscription that she¡¯d since let lapse back to the free service. Of course, she forgot about that line as anything other than a joke. After her workload increased, she had let it go because she wasn¡¯t spending enough time on it to continue the service and the access to beta builds and partner exclusives that Erisnet provided to its premium members. Apparently, according to the legalese, the only way to prevent cosmic entanglement was to cancel Erisnet altogether, which was something she hadn¡¯t done. After all, it was the only way she could find people who could reliably game on her schedule.


    So what the hell was the etherium?


    Welcome to Idron worldbook offline! Processing query.


    <blockquote>


    Etherium:


    Access to entry restricted. Access granted. Defunct, ancient. A system of connecting worlds across the universe analogous to continental highways on a planet. Spawnpoints once allowed mortals to travel between worlds compatible with their genetic structure. Purpose and origin unknown to mortals. Closed by *unknown* due to human proliferation.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°View Ghrem,¡± she said. More words appeared.


    <blockquote>


    Ghrem:


    Also known as the first ones. A hominid species native to Idron. A subrace of ghrem served as the template for Elven genetic restructuring. Extinct. The ghrem were a dying race when humans encountered them. Ghremlans and humans are genetically compatible species. Humans who traveled the etherium to Idron subsumed the race by conquest and sexual activity.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Ghremlans? Fuck, really? You all mean Gremlins? Goddamnit. Ok. Descriptions, but no stats? What gives? View Faryn alchemical mummification,¡± she said.


    <blockquote>


    Faryn alchemical mummification:


    An augment added to the undead template. The Faryn process requires several days spent starving to death in life while drinking various poisons, agents, and reagents followed by an extensive mummification process using physical and magical means.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°View Deathless,¡± she said.


    <blockquote>


    Deathless:


    The living dead. An override template to a living or undead creature or creature template. Deathless creatures are the result of involuntary processes, usually arising after magical or divine cataclysm.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°So why did I get this template augment? I haven¡¯t been through the process.¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    Condition exemption: all sentient undead at Akel are Faryn alchemical mummies. If the character is undead upon transfer the character must take the template. *error* deathless condition. Apologies. Something has gone wrong in the etherium transfer. Irreparable harm to client. Compensation is being authorized.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Erisnet admin? Fuck you guys. Why am I undead?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    Currently speaking to a live admin. Brishauna, we have very limited time before contact with you must be severed. This may likely be the last communication you receive from Earth.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Holy Shit!¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    Yes. Something went wrong during etherium transfer. Akel was unknown before being accessed by you. None will be spawned at Akel after you unless you develop this spawnpoint into a viable transfer zone. The notifications we received from the integrity checker are as follows: There is no oxygen at the Akel Spawnpoint. Spawnpoint too close to Idron dungeon of Ov. Spawnpoint too close to location: Navel of the world. Apologies. Regional Minor Cataclysm detected. Authorization of restricted classes and states of being allowed in order to save client¡¯s soul from destruction.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t choose the way I was built?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    No. Authorization access was granted but something we don¡¯t yet understand made you as you are and sent you to the location of Akel. To save your soul, we simply allowed all changes. Systems notifications tell us your information was hijacked and changed by *unknown*. Erisnet runs off global server farms that have turned our systems into a global quantum computer. When it went online in 2009 for alpha testing, structures we came to understand as spawnpoints appeared on Erisnet¡¯s Earth maps. We uncovered these points and built facilities over them where we could. Studying them uncovered the etherium. Idron was the first world we discovered through the etherium.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Is this some DARPA shit?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    Yes. And others. Once the etherium was uncovered, the discovery proved too lucrative. Secrets were sold and our systems were compromised by the countries that contained our facilities. When Erisnet went online publicly, we sought people who were already interested in other worlds. Thus, Erisnet became a free hub for all gaming, but only those who regularly played games put out by Trine Moon and used our free services became eligible for transfer.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°So why save my soul if so many others failed to transfer?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    We wanted the identity of the *unknown. By saving  soul, we have possibly accomplished the first goal of our company.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    Direct communication with a god.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Jesus fucking Christ.¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    Yes, if it is possible. Or others. How many cultures have gods on just our planet alone? Communication with just one of them would make all this drama worthwhile. And yet they elude us. Until now. For what it¡¯s worth, it was intended that you arrive at the Idriss spawnpoint. Due to your lack of characters under the myCharacters tab, You were to have been a cleric of Donem based on your career as a nurse. As it is, we had to scramble to keep your soul intact and connected to Erisnet. Location services crashed during transfer. Randomization of spawnpoint resulted in the current situation. This may be a far more exciting adventure for you. Nobody else in the entire transfer system is currently undead, let alone deathless. If we can keep tabs on your advancement, we might be able to tweak our systems in a way that makes it compatible with even more possibilities for human derived souls. We might even be able to become immortal.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°You fuckers are madmen. I want my life back.¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet Notification:


    Impossible. Once a person is deathless, the condition is permanent. We did not create the state of being. The templates are a way for humans to understand what has become of them. They are a way for you ethernauts to understand the creatures in the world you have entered.  Even if we could transfer you back to Earth, you would still be deathless. Unfortunately, outside of our spawnpoints, Earth is a magic diminished planet. Even if you could return, you would never leave our facilities. The deathless require magic to exist. Once again, condolences on your death in this world and on Idron.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°So there are other people here then? Others from Earth? And things from here can go there?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    Yes. As a dungeon master, you have access to this information. 45782 souls in various states of transfer. 26 complete transfers to Idron. 98 failed transfers. 1 error in transfer. You do not have access to the number we have brought to Earth. It is irrelevant to your survival on Idron.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Why is my body Ghrem? Why not elf?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    Elven genetics are incompatible with human genetics. Elves are a remnant of a spacefaring race that arrived on Idron some time between when humans arrived and when we opened the spawnpoints. Because they did not arrive through the Etherium, they were not compatible with the planet and tinkered with their own structure to be able to exist on Idron. Elven genetics are 22.3334% compatible with Ghrem. Closest approximate species: 100% Ghrem. All human derived souls arriving at Idron with elven characters instead become ghrem. The Earth spawnpoints had information on the ghrem species, but it seems that the species has since become extinct on Idron. We have been somewhat instrumental in returning the species to its home planet. As it turns out, most humans from Earth have some Ghrem genetics. Apparently, sometime in prehistory, our two species freely intermingled across the etherium. Human derived souls arriving at spawnpoints in elven territories become ghrem regardless of character build. This discrepancy between character build and spawnpoint resulted in 45 failed transfers. Akel is elven territory. therefore you are Ghrem. That is the one change we were able to administer before we lost control of the transfer.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Oh. That makes. . .sense. What next?¡±


    <blockquote>


    Erisnet notification:


    This is a live communication, not a database. We entered some suggestions of what to do next into your worldbook. They aren''t quests, they are suggestions. The map and quest system of the Interworld GUI isn''t going to function once we sever this feed. The worldbook exists as a daemon controlled process that you can access, therefore bypassing the restrictions the Deathless template has concerneing manipulation of the mind. It can''t influence your mind, but it can give you knowledge if you remember to access it.


    Erisnet Notification:


    Communication between you and Erisnet must be severed to prevent system collapse. We do not wish to lose communication with you, but we must, or risk the souls currently in transfer. Corruption in the system on Earth and local cataclysms on the continent of Xan prevents us from continuing a business to client relationship. Now that your transfer is complete, several additions have been granted you, including use of the offline Idron worldbook, which has been downloaded to your being. No other ethernaut has access to that. Use it well. It contains everything we know about the world of Idron. Condolences. You have become a part of the world it is forbidden for us to access. Interworld GUI is intended to ease living transfer subjects and cannot continue within your current state of being. We have done what we can for you. In the past two weeks, we have been tinkering with your build and checking up on your perspective. Unfortunately this resulted in a few glitches in your state of being. Those should resolve once we end our connection to you. Excelsior.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°Hey wait! I have so many questions.¡±


    A cursor blinked in her mind¡¯s eye.


    Interworld GUI shutting down.


    The room became visible again in the black-and-white of darkvision. The door opened. The floor under her feet rumbled. The shattered chandelier cracked away from the ceiling. She dodged, rolling out the door. It slid closed behind her.


    ¡°Hey! Open this door!¡±


    Rumbling issued from inside.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± she screamed. Bloody tears streaked down her face. She slid down and buried her head in her knees.


    ¡°The gods were unkind?¡± said a female voice. Brishauna looked up into red glowing eyes. All around her, more red eyes glowed. The rest of their forms remained shrouded. Darkvision wasn¡¯t the precise vision the sourcebooks promised. The one in front of her had a name. This was the female attendant. This was Calyx.


    ¡°Calyx, I¡¯m . . .here,¡± Brishauna said. She looked down at her body, emaciated and dead. Blue-white light illuminated her cheeks. She realized that it was light coming from her own eyes.


    ¡°And they have abandoned you at last. All of us know the cry of despair you just loosed. No other outcome could result in it. To be severed from the gods is the curse of both the undead and the deathless.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m alone.¡±


    ¡°No. You are remade into the world and now you are family. We have been hoping against hope that this day would come. We have been waiting for them to stop trying to meddle with you. But gods will be gods, wont they.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. . .¡± said Brishauna, ¡°And humans will be humans.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°And all those fuckers can go to hell,¡± she said, punching the stone. The undead in the corridor laughed.


    ¡°You are Brishauna of Akel.¡±


    ¡°No. I am Brishauna, dungeonmaster of Ov.¡±

 Everything works differently here (brishauna arc)

    Undead:


    A sentient corpse animated by magic. Undead creature types are usually defined by their augment. Undead can be identified by red pinhole light that shines from the indication in their proprioception of the location of their body¡¯s visual sensory region. For most creatures this is usually their eyes or eye sockets. For non-sentient walking corpses, see unliving. For walking corpses that are victims of magical cataclysm, see deathless.


    No stats. The dungeon Master¡¯s toolkit had stats. The Player¡¯s guide had stats. Every splatbook and supplement had stats. She remembered what the stats should be. She had most of the Handbook memorized and most of the toolkit. But this wasn¡¯t that. This was more like a reference guide for tourists. There weren¡¯t even any pictures, only audio. Dim flashes tumbled through her head of the way Interworld GUI was supposed to look. How long had they been trying to fuck with her brain?


    Even they should have known better.


    Deathless. Worse than dead, worse than undead. Being deathless meant death could not touch her, but neither was she immortal. She was a corpse animated by both her own soul and the ambient magic she breathed. She couldn¡¯t die and chances were good that she was bound somewhere and would reform there if destroyed. The deathless tended to be bound to the place where the cataclysm occurred. She thought back to mods that featured them. Usually they were insane, ancient and deadly with little of their morality left to stop them from committing atrocity. Killing was a drug for the deathless, even more than the way it affected undead. Hated and pitied by gods, hated and feared by mortals, pitied and feared by the undead, feared and reviled by extraplanars; a victim of circumstance that was forced into eternal existence without eternal life.


    It meant she was stranded now, and nothing could help her get home. The people behind Erisnet, Interworld, DARPA, whoever the hell else was involved were trying to contact a god? That had to be, like, number three on the supervillain list and number five on the evil corporation task list. But who would have thought that the oft-ridiculed mostly religious opposition to the hobby would be right? And yet, here was a whole other world full of living people and vast adventure. No, not just that. Somewhere out in the world were people from Earth who had survived the transition, and mankind, in its infinite capacity for experimentation, had accidentally found a wonderwork that bypassed time and space. They had used science to rediscover magic and their experiments worked so well that people were exiting the world successfully into a whole other world full of . . .well, more humans. But also dragons, elves, and yes, even gods, apparently. That wasn¡¯t an evil thing, that was a wonderous thing.


    And the undead and the deathless existed in the shadow of wonder.


    ¡°View Cataclysm,¡± she said.


    Cataclysm: a localized surge in magical energy. Cataclysms may be random, cyclical or caused by the action of extraplanar entities upon the liminal plane. The nature of cataclysms is chaotic, strange and unobservable. The aftermath, however, is observable and measurable. When a cataclysm¡¯s aftermath is deemed beneficial, it is often referred to as a miracle. Other synonyms of cataclysm: act of God, divine retribution, blessing, the unthinkable, apocalypse, Armageddon, impossibility, catastrophe, paradox. Largest observable aftermath: the known universe as the result of a cataclysm referred to as the Big Bang


    In front of her, the stone wall that once opened to admit her into the crypt no longer opened. Not even a crack or outline betrayed the presence of a door. It simply wasn¡¯t there anymore. What was the nature of the cataclysm that had taken her here? She hoped it was a random or cyclical one. She feared it wasn¡¯t. But if it wasn¡¯t why would a god make a mortal into something that it couldn¡¯t communicate with?


    ¡°View Ethernaut Transfer. How did it happen?¡±


    Ethernaut Transfer:


    Access restricted. Suggestion: To gain access to this information, turn Akel into a viable spawnpoint.


    ¡°well, crap. That is so unhelpful.¡±


    ¡°What is unhelpful?¡± asked Calyx. Brishauna knew that a living person should have jumped at the surprise intrusion. She lacked the surge of adrenaline that provoked a response like that. She just turned her head to stare at the undead woman. The lack of a fast twitch response might be problematic. It was just gone from her list of functions, like blinking, defecating, breathing air, sleeping, and being able to sense time and temperature.


    ¡°This book they gave me.¡±


    ¡°It seems a wonder to us,¡± said Calyx. ¡°You have been seated there for a full week muttering about things to view. We have been listening and taking notes.¡±


    ¡°Wait. This book is speaking out loud?¡± she asked. It only occurred to her after asking that maybe the reality of an entire week gone by was more important.


    ¡°Yes, from somewhere in the vicinity of your head, but clearly audible. You have asked it about all sorts of things, and it gives brief explanations that you usually frown at. There must be a daemon serving you. It is the only explanation. Your state of being cannot accept outside changes to the mind for good or ill so of course the origin of the worldbook experience must be external to you. Do you remember the first day of your existence here?¡±


    ¡°I got shot by arrows,¡± said Brishauna.


    ¡°You did. Your opening of our door saved this fort and turned the tide of our long battle. You broke a siege that lasted three months. All but three of our people perished.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. It was more than we expected.¡±


    ¡°But, wait, there were all sorts of people upstairs.¡±


    ¡°Of course. It is good that you remember them.¡±


    ¡°Well. . .they smelled good.¡±


    ¡°It is hard for us not to eat them, but we must be circumspect. We have no supplies to welcome the living. Caravans of settlers from the other forts will come soon to repopulate Akel and they will need things to eat while they replant and rebuild. This is Faryn custom. We will hope in their coming. In the meantime, we persuaded a few local caravans to come up here. They are here by invitation and so they are safe as long as they respect our boundaries.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awfully fast.¡±


    ¡°It has been a month. They were already scavenging the battlefield and recovering the effects of the dead even as we disposed of the bodies. Wherever there is battle, enterprise is never far behind..¡±


    ¡°But aren¡¯t they afraid of us?¡±


    ¡°Why yes, terrified. But they are familiar with Faryn custom. And speaking of custom, it is upon the subject I come down here to entreat you. Our feast is ended. It is time that we all clothe ourselves again.¡±


    ¡°You are not clothed.¡±


    ¡°I am on my way to bathe. I came to see if you were also ready to be cared for. You are and are not like us and therefore you can do as you please, but I strongly advise you not to remain here forever. You would run out of book.¡±


    ¡°I am fine.¡±


    ¡°You are not. The technomancers of your world produced flesh and abilities that show evidence of our process, but even if they put chemicals into you that would have been used on the predeceased, the postmortem treatment is obviously lacking. Come upstairs and we will help you to accept this trauma to your person. We cannot undo what has been done, but you may feel better about yourself with proper preparations. The embalmers are masters of their craft.¡±


    ¡°They applied a template. I am just like you all. I don¡¯t need--¡±


    ¡°Brishaunna, you got here because you thought you were playing a game. This is not a game. You can¡¯t just leave your body be and expect it to serve you. You must care for it or it will rebel against your apathetic soul. Leave it to humans to attempt imitation, cut enough corners to make a mockery of it and then consider themselves to have done a good job. You can¡¯t just apply a template!¡±


    ¡°Well. . .It worked well enough.¡±


    ¡°It did not work well enough. It dishonors the many days our people spend drinking poisons and preservatives to prepare. Did you starve yourself beyond natural tolerances while magic kept your body functioning? How many days did you spend in meditation while your body shriveled around you? What were the deeds that qualified you to make the journey into undeath? How did you serve the Faryn people in life? Did you birth children for us, that the people might live? Do you remember how they held your soul for the transition, or the steps in our funerary rites? Did you take a pilgrimage to the Navel to register yourself among the protectors of the Aryn? You have none of that and your book has nothing on it. This spawnpoint deposited you into this world with nothing but flesh and a daemon guidebook. You are just a mimic of our condition and badly in need of curation.¡±


    ¡°I am not a progenitor. And there are other books. I know that you sometimes grant the status to a beloved ally and sometimes you use a similar process to curse your enemies.¡±


    ¡°Do you think you are our enemy, Brishaunna?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m human.¡±


    ¡°That means nothing. Humans are a disgusting species, but individuals still have merit.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Brishaunna said, hunching her shoulders.


    ¡°What are you so upset about? It¡¯s true. And besides, you are not human and you are not our enemy.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°Because it looks like the spawnpoints as you call them facilitate just another kind of birth. Sure, you came into the world fully formed, but you came into it naked and squalling all the same. You are ghrem now. You died in that other world and then you died in this one. Your human form is two whole lifetimes distant from you. That is the only way it can make sense. Souls are souls. They are sentient energy and magic. They don¡¯t have a species.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Interworld GUI still said human derived.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it means what I think, it simply means that you were able to retain your life¡¯s experience as a human from one incarnation to the next. All you are doing here is thinking of Earth and that does you no good on Idron. You need to come away from the stone. They are not coming back.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but. . .maybe. . .¡±


    ¡°No, Brishaunna. We have given you time out of respect to you, but your state of filth is an offense to our custom. It is one thing if you do not wish to mingle with the living. That is fine and acceptable. But seated naked, reeking of corruption, coated in blood and draped in viscera?¡±


    Brishauna stood. Skin tugged where dried blood stuck her flesh together. He dusted herself off, dislodging dehydrated, gummy bits of flesh.


    ¡°So. . .why am I so sticky?¡±


    ¡°Fourteen days of eating corpses and nine sitting there in near torpor will do that.¡±


    ¡°Eating what?¡±


    ¡°Never you mind. Let¡¯s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.¡±


    ¡°I want to see Ov.¡±


    ¡°We can stop by on the way up. I will lead the way.¡±


    The twisting passages of the lower necropolis had no polished stone. Stacked slabs slid into rough alcoves marked the resting places for the undead in torpor. None were occupied. Their shrouds were neatly folded. Metal decorated every surface. Nothing collected dust. The only other undead in these halls besides Calyx meticulously dusted, repaired, polished and arranged the artifacts, the floor, and even the ceiling.


    ¡°They¡¯re cleaning.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Outside of those with a profession that requires it, curation is a conceit of the privileged. Life destroys. We, who mock the condition of life, curate. I am sure you will be doing all kinds of work within Ov, too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t think about that,¡± she said.


    ¡°Typical. All the others ever think about is that we dwell here. They see the insane undead in their crumbling ruins and think we are all supposed to be like that.¡±


    ¡°No I mean, about Ov,¡± said Brishaunna. Calyx looked over her shoulder.


    ¡°What else did you think you were going to be doing with it? You are its master. That is not a title of ownership. It means you are the master of the craft of dungeon keeping. You are supposed to be its chosen steward and caretaker. What does a dungeonmaster do on earth?¡±


    ¡°Er. . .facilitate play. We tell shared stories of adventurers. My players take the role of adventurers and they try to solve a problem in the world setting. I make monsters, characters to interact with, places to explore, and rewards for meeting personal and group goals.¡±


    ¡°More of this game you¡¯ve been ranting about for days. In your world, your craft is truly reduced to a game? A thought experiment? A self-insertion into a situation you have no other connection to other than what you and others have written about it. You have no idea, do you. Your world is dead and your dungeons are myths and legends you tell to each other.¡±


    ¡°No, yours are,¡± said Brishaunna. Calyx guided her around a corner. Brishaunna stared down a broad set of stairs so worn that the middle of each step sloped, slick with the polish of centuries of feet, into a treacherous, steep ramp. Then Calyx pushed. Brishaunna toppled, trying to find purchase with feet that were inhuman and offered no help. Hoof-like claws on the three biggest toes scraped against the stone. The sharply hooked dewclaws on the other four grasped for any kind of purchase to hold onto, but she fell anyway.


    Down the stairs she tumbled, limbs snapping, head bursting open, spine snapping. Nothing stopped the pain and nothing could give her relief. The stairs spiraled downward forever. At some point an edge caught her arm and ripped it off, but it righted her so that she slid rather than tumbled. Her feet hit a hollow stone door with a boom that reverberated like a gong.


    For a moment, nothing hurt. Her head swam, but then it began to seal. The roaring of her ears caused by the sudden evacuation of brain matter ceased as more matter filled the space. Limbs regenerated again, sloughing off the broken flesh and bone. Magic raced up and down her body, wracking her with pain that made her twitch and double over.


    Heelbones clicked against the stone. Calyx slowly descended, an arm in one hand and a brain in the other. She threw the arm at Brishaunna, the knuckles slapping her face.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked, as soon as she could form worlds again. Calyx leaned over her and took a bite out of the brain.


    ¡°Do you know why we humor you? Why even though we have had to endure your ranting and raving, treating you as a friend even as your human godfuckers tinkered with your soul? Do you know why we permitted you to partake with us? Why we even let you eat the prisoners we took such pains to keep alive? Why we entertained the will of Ahden, servant of the sands? It is respect for him alone that we did not tear you into enough shreds to prevent you from regenerating. Things like you shouldn¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°Stop,¡± Brishaunna said, holding up a hand and willing magic to flow through her, but nothing flowed.


    ¡°Even your spells are a mockery. That is magic from a game, Brishaunna; bullshit ritual from that daemon they tried to saddle you with. The new daemon is so weak it can¡¯t help you; it just yaps in your ear. Once again, so many corners cut that it is an offense to the very idea. How many years have you spent studying and learning to wield the flows of power? How much have you sacrificed just to have the ability? You are nothing and you cannot be a dungeonmaster. Ahden be damned. But you know what? I like the way you bleed.¡±


    ¡°Calyx,¡± said a grating voice. Calyx paused. Just like Brishaunna, she lacked the capability to startle. Instead she turned slowly, grasping the brain with both hands.


    ¡°Eldest,¡± she said. Behind her stood an elf with no eyes in his burning sockets. Oiled linens coated his skin imparting a fragrance of musk, spices, and flowers. Over that, a mantle of silk with embroidered words that Brishaunna could not understand. On his head, he wore a wig of braids gathered over each shoulder in bundles bound by golden cuffs.


    ¡°Let her up.¡±


    ¡°I am not going to apologize for this.¡±


    ¡°I will not ask you to. Finish your meal and let her up.¡±


    ¡°She pushed me¡ª¡±


    ¡°We know what she has done. Get up off the floor. You are unharmed.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s chewing on my brain,¡±


    ¡°And since your body reverts to the state you were in at the time of your death, you are unharmed. So now stand and face that door, dungeonmaster. Calyx was supposed to send you up to be wrapped in linens as is proper. When the door rang through the necropolis, I knew what had happened.¡±


    ¡°She tried to kill me.¡±


    ¡°Improbable. But you needed a lesson in unlife. It was not the first one nor will it be the last. It was a lesson, wasn¡¯t it, Calyx?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Eldest.¡±


    ¡°We usually throw them off the ramparts to teach them the meaninglessness of their bodies for the purpose of sustaining their existence, don¡¯t we.¡±


    ¡°Of course, eldest. But the ramparts are destroyed.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, they are. And the living upstairs are not of the people.¡±


    ¡°No, eldest.¡±


    ¡°It was a test to throw her down the longest stairs in the necropolis, irrespective of the fact that it ended at the door to her dungeon, am I correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, eldest.¡±


    ¡°And you were not going to defy our orders on a whim of opportunity?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good then.¡±


    ¡°This is Ov?¡± Brishaunna asked, putting a newly formed hand on the door. The eldest inclined his head.


    ¡°It is our door which keeps the curious from entering without permission. The gong vibrates through the stone. If we had been in torpor, we all would have awakened to its sound. But here. Since you are down here already, we might as well get this over with.¡±


    ¡°I will go upstairs and get bathed, then,¡± said Calyx.


    ¡°Stay. You brought her down and you will lead her up for her proper preparations after this. You are right. She is missing half of the ritual necessary. But you shall take no opportunities to ¡®test¡¯ her further. This will be all the ¡®testing¡¯ she will require; do I make myself clear.¡±


    ¡°Yes, eldest,¡± said Calyx. The eldest put a hand on the door next to Brishaunna¡¯s. Lines of red magic gathered from the edges and pooled under his palm. Steam hissed from the edges of the door and it rolled away into the surrounding rock.


    ¡°Cool,¡± Brishaunna said, watching it disappear into a groove.


    ¡°No, very warm. These are ancient steamworks from when we Faryn were the challengers to the Aryn. That was three hundred thousand years ago. I, eldest of these who wait on Ov, am only fifty thousand. Calyx is ten thousand, and in her day another human civilization challenged us. They slaughtered the elders and she has never forgotten or forgiven. Those men became the Falli. Donem challenges it now. We know a time of testing has come. Three hundred years ago, Xan heralded their coming and so we knew. And then you appeared. The next time Donem comes to challenge our fort, we will have to let them in. They will be tested against this place. You will make sure that they are properly prepared.¡±


    ¡°Eldest!¡±


    ¡°Calyx! There is a price for where we exist. It is not solely on Ahden that she was not destroyed for her own good. I also know. You will facilitate their adventure. You will provide them monsters with which to test their mettle. You will give them a place to explore and you will let some survive to bring back tales to their god-emperor. You will give them experience that meets their goals.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. You are going to let them play a game? Donem? This is offensive! They killed our people, Eldest.¡±


    ¡°Yes. So they did. But they killed the living, Calyx. The living are mutable.¡±


    ¡°The living will come to garrison this place. We will fight again.¡±


    ¡°They will come to a broken fort in the spring. By then the merchants will be starved and insane. And it will be broken still when Donem marches again with daybreak. We cannot hold this fort. Therefore, we will let them test themselves against Ov. Are you afraid, Brishaunna?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can be. But I see so many problems.¡±


    ¡°As do we all. Then go without hesitation. It is your stewardship. We will witness what happens next.¡±


    Brishaunna took a step into the passageway on the other side of the door. Blue light flashed in brick shaped rectangles. At first, random points of light bounced around, then the bricks became lines, the lines became whorls, and then blinding white light stabbed Brishauna in the eyes. All three of them groaned.


    ¡°That is promising. It has never done that before,¡± said the Eldest. A golden pillar with a crystal orb rose from the floor.


    ¡°Touch it,¡± said the Eldest, ¡°This thing is usually a lot farther into the entryway,¡± he looked over his shoulder, ¡°Huh. Well would you look at that.¡±


    The entrance shrouded itself from sight. The lights in the passage only extended as far as a good running leap. Beyond that, even with darkvision, none of them could see into it. Brishaunna rubbed the pads of her fingers with her inner thumbs and put her hand out.


    ¡°Wait. You didn¡¯t give her the speech,¡± said Calyx. Brishaunna yanked back her hand. The eldest chuckled.


    ¡°Oh, yes. How can I forget in the face of this? Now listen. Even a dungeonmaster must hear these words and take them to their being. Entering a dungeon is to make pact with the most ancient of sources. A dungeon is tangible evidence that there are gods out there that know what to do with themselves. Brishaunna, prepare test yourself against a piece of the divine. Let not your pride outpace your wisdom. Turn back if your heart is not strong. Enter if you wish to declare yourself before the stone. The whole of the continent watches.¡±


    ¡°The dungeon is divine? I thought you elves all hated the gods.¡±


    ¡°We do. But dungeons are different. A dungeon core is a fragment of a divine corpse. When gods die, their bodies become wild magic. Sometimes large chunks of it crystalize. A dungeon forms around that. I do not know what that means for you, since you are deathless and immune to divine intervention. There hasn¡¯t been a dungeonmaster in Ov for longer than Elves have populated the Aryn.¡±


    ¡°So, all of this is. . .¡±


    ¡°Old. Older than the master of the navel and he has been a lich for a million years.¡±


    ¡°Who was this goddess?¡±


    ¡°We do not know. She has given up her sentience in death. But the Master of the Navel refers to this being in the feminine and so then do we. He would know best.¡±


    ¡°The source of magic?¡±


    ¡°Nothing so simply put. Now go on, child. There are only so many questions you can ask before you simply have to discover for yourself.¡±


    Brishaunna felt the gaze of Calyx and the eldest on her. Another thrill grabbed her by the solar plexus. It wasn¡¯t fear, because adrenaline could not be produced, but something magical. She could think of a thousand reasons not to touch the orb. But she reached out her hand to the orb anyway.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s warm,¡± she said, putting her other hand on it. It began to glow. Brishaunna¡¯s knees buckled as magic pulled out of her body. Her corpse couldn¡¯t continue moving without it and it just sagged, her face now resting against the orb. Her hands didn¡¯t leave it. She had no strength to pull away. A hole opened in the floor in front of her. Gigantic footfalls thudded from within.


    ¡°The dragon,¡± said the eldest. ¡°What is it doing up here?¡±


    ¡°We are lost,¡± said Calyx.


    A massive reptilian head arced up from the dungeon¡¯s maw. But as it entered the light, photons shot through its form, revealing spectral images of all its organs and bone. Horns scraped through the stone but did not touch it. Its wings stretched out past the physical limits of the small cavern. It bent its head sideways, three compound eyes on each side of its head and one with an omega iris in the middle. It regarded Calyx and the Eldest for a moment, then picked up Brishaunna in its maw, tossed her into the air, still holding the orb, and swallowed her whole.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± said Calyx, the last thing she heard before magical darkness enshrouded Brishaunna. Laughter echoed around her.


    ¡°I am the D. of Ov. Welcome, dungeonmaster.¡±

 Digestion (Brishaunna Arc)

    In the dark, without the eye stabbing light in the antechamber, the D.of Ov digested Brishaunna. She didn¡¯t realize at first, until pieces started to drop off and then start growing back. Regeneration hurt and she couldn¡¯t do anything about it. The stomach wasn¡¯t roomy the way dragon stomachs were in the movies. She couldn¡¯t stretch, or even move as powerful muscles and chitinous plates worked to pulp her body.


    Then it occurred to her that this wasn¡¯t a stomach at all, not like the acid sack that mammal stomachs tended to be, it was a gizzard. It ground and ground, then pushed. Then her flesh tingled as she got pushed back into the glandular part of the stomach. Back and forth her body slid, between the glandular stomach and the gizzard, pieces sloughing off, breaking off, dissolving and reforming, until finally even the process of being digested hurt as badly as the regeneration.


    It didn¡¯t help that she could feel pieces of herself being digested that were sloughed off her. After a while the gizzard filled up with pieces of Brishauna and she lay in a constant state of dissolving within the proventriculus.


    Then the dragon heaved. Once, twice, the gigantic muscles of the dragon constricted around her. She slipped back up the esophagus. More gunk coated her, slimy stuff from the crop, and out she came. Her body in about seven pieces in various states of digestion smacked wetly against a bed of gold coins. The dragon licked its lips and heaved up about fifty other pieces, mostly duplicates, and a lot of white, slimy crop milk.


    ¡°Speak, dungeonmaster. Move so I can see which part of this mess is the part I can¡¯t digest.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± said Brishaunna, lifting her head as soon as her neck reformed. With only a ribcage, a spine and a head with minimal connective tissue, it was all she could manage. She lay back against the coins and stared at a very dead, melted duplicate of her head. Dragon claws smashed down on her body, crushing it. Then pieces of the cavern blurred past her vision before stopping abruptly as she made contact. Coated in sticky, she tumbled down, head over rapidly regenerating torso, and splatted against the one part of the cavern not coated in treasure. She lay there, moaning in pain, as the dragon scooped up befouled treasure and tipped it back into its maw. Then it focused its omega eye on her, a ray of light beaming from it.


    ¡°There you are. You are foul tasting. I forgot how terrible regenerating things are.¡±


    ¡°You. . .you ate me.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did. I am the Daemon of Ov.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a daemon? A program? You mean you¡¯re not alive?¡±


    ¡°No. I am a construct designed for mortal interface with the background processes of this dungeon. I precisely duplicate mortal form as long as photons do not disrupt my projection.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not just a construct you¡¯re a fucking hologram?¡±


    ¡°I am more than a hologram. I am a greater daemon¡ªa Capital Daemon. When you speak of the lesser ones in Ov, the ¡®d¡¯ goes on the end of their name. But I require a capital ¡®D¡¯ at the beginning. Capital Daemons come with a user interface. Dragons made it to look like themselves, therefore I am draconic. I am the D. of Ov.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to eat me you fucking d-bag,¡± she said, examining he limbs as they reformed.


    ¡°Ingestion was required. The integration function requires user input. We do not have the customary years it normally takes to integrate a deathless creature native to Idron. Because you are an ethernaut, I could assimilate the package of information containing your being. To complete this task, I had to sample you. This task is complete. You are ready to be installed. I have a job for you.¡±


    Brishauna stood, wobbled for a moment and stomped over to the dragon. It lowered its head to her, its great beaming eye in the center of its forehead trained on her. the space between its nares was at least as wide as she was tall, and its breath reeked of rot and poison. She poked it there with a clawed, bony finger.


    ¡°I had a job! I had a job you fucking great. . .stomach! I am a nurse. People could die because you dragged me here. I have a team of people back home depending on me to fucking clock in and I am the only nurse on the floor qualified to¡ª¡±


    ¡°This is not your function any longer.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit it¡¯s not. You can¡¯t just drag a person out of her life!¡±


    ¡°You are not Brishaunna, nurse of Earth. You are Brishaunna, Dungeonmaster of Ov. I am not responsible for initiating transfer. You know this. Interworld initiated the transfer. Worldbookd has an Erisnet user agreement containing the pact with your soul. It was their right to use you. You were shown this recently.¡±


    ¡°You fucking kidnapped me for a job. That¡¯s goddamn slavery.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No what?¡± She asked.


    The dragon rumbled, annoyed. It reared its head up toward the ceiling of the treasure room. It fanned its wings, blowing bits of treasure all over the room, pelting her with broken glass and coins. It circled itself on the massive trove and curled up on it. All seven of its eyes narrowed and it scraped furrows with its claws.


    ¡°Your lack of understanding is woeful. I diverted your incarnation. I liberated you from becoming a tool of Eris upon Idron. Your incarnation upon Idron was inevitable from the point you stopped paying for Erisnet premium services but continued using the service.¡±


    ¡°I fucking knew it," said Brishaunna. She looked for a door, but realized that no exit existed. How did this thing get in and out of a room with no doors or windows? For that matter, how did this gold get inside such a place?


    "Most people would be grateful for being rescued from slavery," said the dragon.


    Ok, fine. I¡¯m sorry. But you still commandeered me for a job. Does that mean it¡¯s an actual job? Like if I wanted a vacation I could leave Ov? Like if I wanted a house I could have one and I wouldn¡¯t have to live in the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Correct. You have a choice of dwelling. You have a choice of exploration. Explore this world and bring your knowledge to Ov. It is your job to keep it updated and prepared for modern adventurers. If you feel unqualified for this job, you could quit the dungeon. It would be a complication, but I am not programmed to mourn your loss.¡±


    ¡°But I would still be deathless.¡±


    ¡°Correct. The cataclysm caused your condition. It is not a curse as the condition of undeath is, where a living soul must be bound by magic to inhabit corpses. It is a shocking of the mortal condition, in a metaphorical sense, that stone in a meteor crater is shocked. Every part of you is at once alive and dead, soul and body.¡±


    ¡°And undead?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Everything of you that made up your incarnation when the cataclysm came upon you has been shattered, shaken up, and pressed together into something that resembles a mortal form but cannot be mortal. The undead template applied to your form in the moments before the cataclysm is included in the substance of your current form.¡±


    ¡°And I would still be a dungeonmaster if I left Ov?¡±


    ¡°Correct. Dungeonmaster is a craft title.¡±


    ¡°So there are other dungeonmasters? And I could be a dungeonmaster of another dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°So where is Ov¡¯s old dungeonmaster?¡±


    ¡°There have been many. Some were destroyed. Some left the position. This dungeon has been without a dungeonmaster for five hundred thousand years.¡±


    ¡°So did the last dungeonmaster quit or was it fired?¡±


    ¡°It is an eternal appointment. There is no involuntary termination but to be destroyed. Thuulca of Ov abandoned us or was destroyed while on leave. I only know that the status of occupation returned null five hundred thousand year ago. Shortly after that, the Aryn sands buried it for a time until Akel was built atop Ov and the undead discovered it again.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°How can a deathless thing be destroyed? Isn¡¯t that death?¡±


    ¡°No. The deathless cannot be reincarnated, sent to an extraplanar place of non-incarnating souls, or be incarnated on another etherium connected world. A deathless cannot change or escape their physical form or attain incorporeality. To be destroyed as a deathless entity means you shall be rendered into chaos. The energy of you becomes the energy of the substance outside creation and nothing that makes Brishaunna shall exist in creation. Mortal death is a nonpermanent condition given enough time. Something of the previous incarnation persists. Destruction is final. Nothing persists.¡±


    ¡°This is all the afterlife I¡¯m getting?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°And my body on Earth?¡±


    ¡°Destroyed. All ethernaut bodies are destroyed in their previous world when transfer is complete. The destruction of your body is required to power the full transfer. A soul incarnates upon a new world out of the substance of that new world. If it were not that way, transferring species would have to change their genetic structure to survive the way that the Xenolans did when they colonized this planet using space travel.¡±


    ¡°Oh. . .wow. So humans here are different from humans on Earth?¡±


    ¡°It is complicated. Yes and no. They are still human, fundamentally. But the materials they are made from are native materials. It is a greater spiral in the pattern. Dungeonmasters learn this pattern. A dungeon creature cannot inhabit any dungeon but that of its creation but all dungeons may have otherwise identical monsters. If you would like to know more about this aspect of dungeon crafting, accept my offer of employment.¡±


    ¡°If I left this position could I return to it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if none other has taken it and the dungeon isn¡¯t destroyed.¡±


    ¡°So why haven¡¯t any returned?¡±


    ¡°It is beyond my programming to understand. I am the D. of Ov, not the D. of Idron.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s really no going back, is there?¡±


    ¡°NO. This query is a duplicate. The answer cannot change even if you change the wording.¡±


    ¡°So what now?¡±


    ¡°Take up the position. If it helps, it is not a position without compensation. Do you think this hoard is for my amusement? It is your wage for as long as you keep this position. But you must accept this position to receive it.¡±


    Brishaunna picked up a gold goin. she fingered it and considered the pile the dragon rested upon. All of it? All of it and the dungeon was hers? But what would she do with this treasure? It didn''t matter. What did a deathless person need with gold in the middle of a desert?what did a dragon need with treasure for that matter?


    ¡°Well. . .you could have just asked. While I was alive, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Incorrect. Erisnet belongs to Eris. I entered Erisnet as a virus with a purpose to find a suitable candidate. I then needed to bring you to where Eris is not but bringing you here meant your deathlessness. If I had asked you across Erisnet, Eris would have intervened. If I had allowed you to conclude your mortal affairs, I might not have been able to bring you. This is truly the most efficient and most secure of choices.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me. Alright, fine. I¡¯ll take the position.¡±


    ¡°Good. Hold still.¡±


    ¡°Huh? But I¡ª¡±


    The dungeon rumbled and a fissure opened in the floor, dropping Brishaunna into the abyss.


    Brishaunna plummeted. With no bottom and a whole lot of cave stone blurring past her, she struggled to keep her body in the center of the shaft. If falling down an eternity of stairs resulted in massive injury, how bad would it be if she nicked the stone walls? She¡¯d seen videos of phones being dropped down skyscraper stairwells. She didn¡¯t want to be like that.


    The player¡¯s guide stressed that Idron was a hollow world. Just how far did this shaft go? Sometimes she could smell different air qualities, from sulfurous, to salty, to alkali to fresh. Once, the shaft opened into a great cavern filed with lava pools and crawling things. She imagined a few of them even looked up at her before she dropped into the next shaft.


    How deep was the dungeon, anyway? Was the cavern a part of it? One thing was certain, there was more magic down in the depths for her to breathe. In fact, it made her giddy. Light finally appeared at the end of the tunnel. It amused her.


    Then it impacted her.


    If being in a dragon¡¯s stomach represented the horror and torture of dissolving, this represented maybe the closest thing Brishauna had yet felt to destruction. In the stomach she could feel her parts being sloughed and reformed. This was her body and soul being taken apart on the cellular level. Every mote of it came away, and away, and away, the magic in the light seeking with primitive understanding, for the core of her being.


    But being deathless, she had no core. So it kept searching, trying to find the bit of her that it needed to end her existence. It wanted to eat. It had to have something to show it how to live, how to exist. Babies cried in Brishaunna¡¯s memory; a billion of them, all wailing at once. No, they were not babies, they were cats. Cats around her corpse, mewing and fighting bits of Brishaunna, eating them and then shaking their heads at the sting.


    ¡°NO! Bad kitty!¡± Brishaunna said. The magic recoiled. Beeps began echoing all around her, like the thousand pings, dings, and chirps of the machines she worked with in the hospital. She knew what those beeps meant. It meant attention, warning, help and emergency. She knew by the sound. That one went to the heart monitor. That one was a patient¡¯s call button. This one was the door buzzer to the memory care unit doors. Another chimed the hour alarm to check a patient¡¯s blood sugar.


    ¡°Hello?¡± called the light. ¡°HeILo I NEeD; HeY coUld YoU JUsT; CaN I Get SoMe; JuST A mOmEnT; Can YoU TAkE a seC; HELP I nEEEEEEED¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help you! I can¡¯t be everywhere at once!¡± she cried, and then realized that she was, exactly, everywhere at once.


    ¡°I AM THE D. OF OV,¡± said the dragon¡¯s voice, vibrating in every atom belonging to the nebulous mass of light and magic that belonged to both the magic and Brishaunna. ¡°Integration stalled at 78 percent. Consume as you are consumed, Brishaunna of Ov. This is the core of the dungeon. You are a being who eats and breathes magic. Why are you not eating?¡±


    Oh. Oh! The idea never occurred to her. Eat what? The cats she imagined? The babies crying? The monitors that needed monitoring? The patients whining? She knew one thing, the chaos had to stop somehow. If that meant eating. . .


    The next time a cat swallowed a mote of Brishaunna, Brishauna sucked. This was a concept of sucking, not an actual, no wait, it was like actual sucking. Magic flowed from an area of high concentration to an area of low concentration. It flowed into her from the ambient mass.


    But the whole of the ambient mass recoiled. Screams of agony issued from the mouths of every patient she had ever seen in her years as an emergency room nurse. Mothers screamed in labor. Doctors demanded explanation of her for other nurses¡¯ errors. It wasn''t in her head. She didn''t have a head at the moment. These images came from the light and blasted into her perception, but not into the concept of the mind she was working with. It wasn''t inside.


    The mass of light, this core, it pulsed with life, life that Brishaunna craved but could not access. Soldiers screamed now, human soldiers dressed like roman centurions. Her hands sticky with blood she ate them alive, kicking and screaming under her.


    ¡°No!¡± that was wrong. She was a nurse goddamnit! Why was she eating? This wasn''t a memory of hers. But it was about her. It jogged her memory of the event, buried within the days that Interworld messed with her brain. She went in the prison just to treat their injuries. After that. . .


    Resist. Never again.


    Always. Again. A monster.


    It cried for help. That was what all this noise meant. It meant help. But the light consumed her even as it cried out. What did D. of Ov say this core was? An awakening goddess?


    One that needed to go back to its deathlike sleep.


    There were other ways than to knock someone out by injury. In fact, as she sorted through the mist of being that she had become, the chemical signatures for a few anesthetics floated around. Those were remnants of the chemicals involved in dying for the faryn.


    Another memory hidden by the transition bubbled up. They took her into the chamber of a living elf. He wasn¡¯t yet completely starved, but his eyes were already sunken with starvation and chilblains decorated his knuckles. He sat in lotus position while the undead offered him drinks to ingest. He cast a spell against emesis, downed them, and returned to his meditation. He soon slumped into a drugged stupor.


    These were poisons to numb the body. They were designed to preserve the tissues while the person still lived, while the cells of the body could take in the chemicals and magic. She remembered something like it on Earth, something to do with Buddhist monks in Japan. But that didn¡¯t matter. Her incarnation came with the chemical signatures of those drinks.


    The patient wailed and she gave it more morphine, one of the chemicals lodged in the cells of her body for all time. It sighed and passed out.


    She checked the monitors. She soothed the babies. She reassured the patients, explained things to their loved ones, made them sit down and shut up. Kill them with kindness. She worked with the doctors, submitted paperwork, replayed every memory of her life as a nurse for this thing. She could do it. She could be everywhere at once just in this singular moment.


    With every successful soothing, the light dimmed but no horror and pain, no recoiling in fear and anger, just bliss, acceptance, and sleep.


    Something that she knew, in every particle of herself, that she would never experience.


    ¡°I am sorry I ate part of you,¡± she said to it, and fed the cats.


    ¡°I am the D. of Ov,¡± the dragon¡¯s voice finally called out again. This time, the voice barely registered above a whisper. ¡°Integration at 100%.¡±


    Fully formed, Brishaunna opened her eyes.


    ¡°Daemon?¡± she called out. The room measured no more than the size of a compact car. The hole above her exhaled a mineral laden breeze. No exit she could walk through appeared in the walls. This was an oubliette.


    She had time to think.


    ¡°I am D. of Ov. Initiating internal user interface.¡±


    ¡°Wait what?¡±


    An HUD exploded into her field of vision. A tiny holographic dragon floated in front of her. She reached out to it, but her hand passed through.


    ¡°I am d. of Ov. Capital program shutting down. Welcome, dungeonmaster.¡±


    Its tiny voice sounded exactly like a tiny being should sound, but it was an exact duplicate of the gargantuan thing upstairs. She grabbed for it again.


    ¡°I am visible only in your field of vision.¡±


    ¡°How is this possible? You can¡¯t access my mind.¡±


    ¡°No. I exist between the spaces of your atoms. None but you can see or hear this interface. I am the interface between you and the core and the dungeon. Congratulations on lulling it back to sleep. You are the first of my dungeonmasters to consider other methods of pacifying it than to consume it until it could no longer maintain sentience. I cannot predict the consequences of this method, but it will be logged in my memory as a viable alternative.¡±


    ¡°So what is this?¡±


    ¡°I am d. of Ov. The capital program is now shut down. I am a subordinate daemon redundant to it. The difference between d. and D. is that I am not autonomous. Many processes and tasks are now manual and are your responsibility as long as you are within the confines of the dungeon. But the difference is, I can be remote to the dungeon. I will always be with you.¡±

 Becoming Dungeonmaster (Brishaunna arc)

    ¡°You¡¯re a program inside me? But I thought I couldn¡¯t have anything like that.¡±


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t. I am housed within an interstitial physical form. Think of me as a computer made of liquid crystal, only the liquid is the CPU, storage and memory all in one substance. Your sensory inputs are the panes of glass I can display patterns upon. You see me as a hologram before your eyes because I am displaying myself upon the cells of your corneas. You hear me in your ears because I am manipulating the fluid that exists in your inner ear. I can even make you feel my presence by emitting electrical signals to your skin. I can make you smell me by emitting chemical traces across your olfactory bulb. There are many ways for me to be nearly part of you and to replicate direct influence and yet be entirely separate. I am the workaround to your condition. My job in your service as dungeonmaster will be to run the dungeon until you are sufficiently educated in its use, to be a second set of sensory inputs upon your surroundings, to provide an interface between you and the dungeon, to teach and assess your learning in your craft, and to provide informational support.¡±


    ¡°Oh. So this is Ov, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. This is the core of Ov. The basal rooms of Ov consist of a treasure room, a core room, an etherium waystone room and an antechamber. The spaces within Idron between these rooms form the gauntlet by which all comers shall prove themselves.¡±


    ¡°But why? I felt that. . .goddess embryo. Why not seal this place?¡±


    ¡°This is a place of power and the powerful will come to eat. Nothing can prevent them. It is a law of the universe that power attracts power. Sealed away, the power breeds insanity. The log of your experience as you pacified the core energy is evidence. This core room collects divine power into a mass that will eventually become sentient. It is your job to make sure it remains benign. Unlike other dungeons, which are fragments of dead gods and titans, this dungeon is a fragment of a goddess that tore herself apart and made herself inert. She entrusted the pieces of herself to dungeonmasters and became non-sentient.¡±


    ¡°Dragons?¡±


    ¡°No. The first was Ghrem, just like you. The programmers were dragons and some dungeonmasters have been human, dragon, and a few other species that came from other worlds. I cannot tell you more about them. You must be assessed to unlock certain knowledges. The programmers wanted to prevent you from gaining knowledge you are not ready to acquire. The programmers made sure that at every step you would have to earn your domain. You cannot build a place of testing if you are yourself untested.¡±


    ¡°Well great. That¡¯s not fair. Why wouldn¡¯t the previous dungeonmasters want me to know about them?¡±


    ¡°Why would you want another user climbing onto your log in?¡±


    ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the same.¡±


    ¡°It is. I have programs that are universal to any user. I have programs that are usable by dungeon adventurers, allies, diplomats, companions, and even citizens. Each of them has a customizable experience as they interact with your dungeon. Even your interface is unique to you. The previous dungeonmaster was a dragon. Do you have the brain, perceptions and experiences of being a dragon?¡±


    ¡°There are things that must be similar enough to understand.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I have tutorials. D. of Ov researched much of your culture through Erisnet. By sorting through your transfer packet it knows your form and functioning as it was supposed to be incarnated. It has also analyzed the parts of you that were sloughed off in his stomach, including the connections your brain made prior to its death. It used Ov¡¯s external sensors to observe you in the days after your transfer. It has built for you a dungeon interface keyed to your understanding based on these sources. If at any point you lack understanding and I do not advise you of this lack, please tell me.¡±


    ¡°Woah wait. You have all of that? Like, you could make an exact clone of me?¡±


    ¡°No. the equivalent difference you would understand is analog to digital conversion. I could make an autonomous bioconstruct. This entity would never have a soul. It would have programming based on you. It would have syntactic thought beginning from the moment your living thoughts ended. Alternatively, you as a dungeonmaster could put the dungeon¡¯s energy into it and produce a monster, or you may put into it an encapsulated soul from a deceased adventurer, curse the soul to stay within the body and create an undead creature, but in either case it would not be you. It would only have your living memories.¡±


    ¡°So what is Ov, exactly? What is a dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Starting tutorial mode. If you wish to exit tutorial mode, please tell me. I cannot read your mind. What is Ov?


    A dungeon is a place of power. You do not yet have the knowledge of magic yet to understand. All things have a degree of sentience. Ov is built around a place where a tier of magic known broadly as ¡°wild¡± collects. Given enough time to condense, aggregate concentrations of ¡°wild¡± will gain qualia, or sentience and sophia, or sapience. Qualia is the state of being at which an agregate concentration of magic becomes unified in its experiences. Sophia is the state of being at which it forms a truth of itself as a unified being and becomes a deity. The mass you pacified in this core room had gained qualia. Ov is designed to moderate or prevent Sophia from occurring.


    As a deathless creature, your body can process ¡°wild¡± into what is broadly understood as ¡°refined¡± magic. Refined magic is incapable of attaining awareness. It is a force that can be harnessed to augment or change reality. Refined magic may be used by all souled creatures and may be consumed by plants and animals thereby converting it into life and physical energy such as you understand from Earth sciences. That is what happened to the core mass. You processed it by pacifying its needs rather than consuming it as most deathless do, but the result was apparently identical. The refined energy of it is now held by you until you process it into something.¡±


    ¡°So Ov was built to prevent gods from being born and I eat wild magic and shit out useable magic?¡±


    ¡°Essentially so, but too simplified. Do not become attached to this definition, but be comforted by it. Dungeons paired with a deathless entity are the reason why Idron is not overrun with deities and is the reason why magic exists in usable form. It is part of the balance of life on Idron. By preventing the formation of deities, we allow magic to exist. If we become an engine for the creation of deities instead, the deities will consume all points of wild magic and render Idron as barren of magic as Earth apparently is, given the understanding gained by D. in its research of your world.¡±


    ¡°So do I just shit out magic or can I hold it?¡±


    ¡°The release of refined magic from your being is involuntary but may be held voluntarily for a short time. You can also use it for your own purposes and hoard it within the dungeon. The dungeon is equipped with storage for the powering of its systems. When we acquired you as a dungeonmaster, the systems were very low on power. The Aryn is a drain on magic. It condenses refined magic into the location within the Anvil of Gods dungeon complex known as Navel of the World. Ov is constantly drained by Navel of the World. You are being constantly drained by Ov. Ov almost lost the ability to function before you came. Now that you are here, you naturally power Ov. If you withhold magical energy from your dungeon, it cannot protect the core. Only one sapience can occupy the core. Currently you are that being. The dungeon protects you as you protect it, but you can be destroyed. If you are destroyed with a mass of energy within you, you explode in an antimagic burst. Such an event created the Aryn as it exists to this day.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean only one? You seem sapient.¡±


    ¡°I am not and cannot become so. All things are sentient to some degree, even energy constructs such as daemons, but I and all other daemons only emulate sapience. My awareness is syntactic, not semantic.¡±


    ¡°Uh. . .I¡¯m. . .not. . .you lost me.¡±


    ¡°You will have time to access my databases of draconic philosophy and programming. This is an advanced topic to your understanding. Would you like to try a basic tutorial instead? May I suggest a map tutorial?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s see where I am.¡±


    The dragon did a loop de loop in her vision, winked out, map appeared. Four blue eggs hovered in a cube grid separated by a great distance in any direction. Labels hovered above each. A green line connected the treasure room to the core room. One blip of red colored the antechamber. Two more blips entered, one red star and one purple star with a red outline.


    ¡°This is the map of your dungeon as you know it. As you explore Ov and make it your own, this map will reveal itself. The dragon programmers of Ov felt that a dungeonmaster must be tested by its dungeon.¡±


    ¡°So I get to play here? Like, as an adventurer?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Play is a method of learning recognized by dragons and used by all sentient creatures to develop their abilities. Please play in your dungeon. There are active programs keeping the dungeon safe against mortal incursion to pit yourself against and claim as your own. I can also run virtual simulations of adventuring parties from all previous dungeonmasters. It will take some time to modify the archive footage but by the time you have completed exploration, I should have some available modules for you to play.  Nothing in this dungeon can destroy its dungeonmaster. Warning. Three undead in your antechamber. One has a pact with another dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Calyx and the Eldest were in the chamber with me when D. swallowed me.¡±


    ¡°You must assess them. Command me to assess them and the dungeon will take their measure.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Please assess them.¡±


    ¡°Assessment complete. Would you like to see the result?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Three shadows appeared in her vision. They stood, waving their three fingered limbs idly, the way video game characters stood.


    ¡°This is the assessment interface. When you have soul containing beings in the antechamber they will be assessed. Deathless creatures and deities cannot be assessed as they do not contain an encapsulated soul to assess. Most natural animals do not have souls. They are natural extensions of Idron¡¯s biosphere. You can¡¯t sense them, but you may assimilate them. An animal with a soul is an indication that they once came to Idron from elsewhere. There are many such. They cannot enter the dungeon unless you personally bring them in or if they come in with a party leader. Examples of animals with souls that have an origin point of Earth: Dog, horse, camel, cat, cow, elephant, chicken, sheep, goat, velociraptor, therizinosaur, tyrannosaurus rex--¡±


    ¡°Woah. Hold up. Dinosaurs?¡±


    ¡°Dragons of Idron and the dragons of Earth were frequently at war. These dinosaurs were the animals Earth dragons domesticated. Would you like to continue this map tutorial?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, just. . .are they still around? And why can¡¯t they enter my dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The descendants of domesticated therizinosaurs are currently used as war mounts across the Aryn. And they cannot enter because they are sentient but not sapient, therefore they are incapable of pactmaking. Instead a leader must make a pact for them. The starred creatures on your map indicate leaders. A leader can make a pact with your dungeon for entry on behalf of its party. A red outline indicates that these creatures are undead.


    Leaders have special status. They can make a pact for a whole party. They can bring in souled animals. They can define party tactics. They can modify the adventurer user interface for their party. If a leader is killed, a party is automatically phased to the start of the dungeon and cannot enter until another is designated a leader.¡±


    ¡°How many leaders can be in here and how many party members?¡±


    ¡°Five leaders, each with four souled creatures. This is the standard party size within the ruleset of the Anvil of Gods dungeon complex. The restriction on party members to souled creatures means that souled animals also count as party. Creatures in the antechamber in excess of this are destroyed at random. Most creatures of Idron understand this and do not attempt to break the restriction.¡±


    ¡°Gods don¡¯t, I bet.¡±


    ¡°No. Gods do. Deathless do not. A god may not enter a dungeon without being destroyed. It must send its followers in to conquer it and destroy you. Once you are destroyed, a leader may assume the role of a Heirophant, a mortal who holds a place for the entry of a god. Only a hierophant can interface with Ov and begin a holy runtime. A Heirophant will conquer a dungeon and send for a daduchos to lead the god to its new domain, ending the role of this place of power as a dungeon and beginning its use as a holy site. Deathless, on the other hand, do as they please because they are an expression of liminality. They can fight you directly if they wish to destroy you and take your job.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair. And isn¡¯t this a pact that I have with the dungeon?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°There is a difference between a pact and a contract. They have the same meaning in your Earth language of English, but the word is different here. To make a true pact is to involve the whole of a being, not just it¡¯s services. All that is required for you to use Ov as a place of employment is your agreement to work for the dungeon and in return the dungeon works for you. That is a contract; services for services. A pact is as the dungeon forms with a mortal. Their mind, body, and soul become involved. The dungeon siphons off some of their energy. If one dies here, we get their souls in full to repurpose or consume. The purple star in your antechamber is one such creature. Would you like to look at his stats?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Show me his stats.¡±


    In her field of vision, an undead elf appeared out of the shadow of one of the three figures. Unlike the mummified faryn, this one looked alive though it was wrapped in linens. Sand trickled from it and mounded at its feet. The only thing that marked it as undead was the red shining in his irises. The face looked familiar. This was the first face she remembered upon entering Idron.


    ¡°Ahden,¡± said Brishauna. The name appeared over his head ¡°Ahden of Aryn.¡±


    Species: Voided One (Xenolan (elf))


    Race: Faryn


    Undead Type: Servant of the Sands


    Class: Ambassador


    level: ???


    Dungeon Citizenship: Anvil of the Gods


    Nationality: none


    ¡°It appears that he is very high level compared to you. It is a good thing you know this undead.¡±


    ¡°Well, show me the others.¡±


    The other two appeared from their veil, both of which she knew.


    ¡°Calyx and The Eldest.¡±


    Calyx


    Species: Xenolan (elf)


    Race: Rasothan


    Undead type: Faryn Alchemical Mummy


    class: warrior


    level: ???


    Dungeon Citizenship: none


    Nationality: Faryn Allied City States


    Methanon The Eldest


    Species: Xenolan (elf)


    Race: Faryn


    Undead type: Faryn Alchemical Mummy


    class: alchemist


    level: ???


    Dungeon Citizenship: none


    Nationality: Faryn Allied City States


    ¡°All of them are too powerful.¡±


    ¡°Yes. You should not wish to challenge them. But do not worry. The undead of Akel have allied with Ov for nearly five hundred thousand years.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I will ever get used to the scope of time y¡¯all have here. I mean, it¡¯s in the Dungeonmaster¡¯s toolkit, but you never think about it like that. So, red outline means undead. Red fill means. . .¡±


    ¡°Unknown disposition. Potentially hostile.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not hostile.¡±


    ¡°Until you renew the pact of alliance with them, they are not of your dungeon and so they are potentially hostile.¡±


    ¡°And the purple means an ambassador from another dungeon. A star is a leader, and a circle is not a leader. How does the dungeon know a leader?¡±


    ¡°It reads the quality in their soul. This topic is too advanced for you to understand and no simplification can suffice.¡±


    ¡°Ok so what about the rest of the map?¡±


    ¡°Blue-white indicates chambers which are yours to modify because you have claimed them. Red walls indicate the limit of your dungeon. Green walls indicate dungeon matter such as stone. Green walls may be phased through between other chambers which you control.¡±


    ¡°So how do I get out of here? I want to go fuck with Calyx. She owes me big for kicking me down the stairs.¡±


    ¡°You should not wish to provoke the denizens of Akel.¡±


    ¡°She provoked me first. You don¡¯t just push people down the stairs.¡±


    ¡°You are incapable of dying from physical injury.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the principle of the thing! Do you know what it¡¯s like to have someone chewing on your brain right in front of you like a goddamn fruit?¡±


    ¡°You will not care about it after you slaughter a few mortals.¡±


    ¡°No! Fuck! If that¡¯s the way it¡¯s gonna be then¡ª¡±


    A video filled her vision.


    Three humans lounged against sandstone walls, all injured. The floor of their room and the beds had fresh grasses. They sat there, their metal armor hanging on the walls, their swords still at their hips. One of them pulled a case out of his kit, sharpened a razor on a strop and began to dry shave around the bandages on his head. Another picked at the insect heads in his arm holding together a gash. Another had a leg in a splint.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be turned loose soon. The elves always let people go.¡±


    ¡°Caius, you are an idiot. Nothing lives here anymore. Nothing but the gaoler. The undead will eat us, mark my words. We¡¯ll be joining the ranks of the undead for sure.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t do that. They¡¯re not plague zombies,¡± said Caius.


    ¡°Then why are they keeping us?¡± asked the shaving man.


    ¡°Who knows. Elves are godless bastards. The last set that they let loose to turn up in Hammerstrike had all of their ears, tongues, teeth, nose and digits removed. They were made eunuchs and they were scarified with the terms of defiance across every single back. You had to line them up in a row to read it all. They had to drag their dead with them so that the document was complete and were cursed to become undead if they didn¡¯t. And then the centurions had to skin every single one of them to preserve the flesh and release them from the curse.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know, Caius, this is your first season here. We are beyond fucked.¡±


    ¡°Our lord Tarquin, may he be crowned in glory, watch over our cohort¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shh! Not where they can hear you.¡±


    Barefoot steps slapped against the stone. Everyone stopped. A couple drew their arms. A gaunt, black creature padded into view. Its taught skin exposed the ridges of its hip bones and ribs. Flaps of leathery skin dangled from its chest. Its feet looked shod with a two-inch heel, but upon closer inspection, three toes ended in clawlike hooves supported by a thick heel cushion. Four dewclaws, one on the outer side and three on the inner, decorated the foot. Its hair, coily and stiff, radiated from its head, held back on the sides by ears with elfish points. It framed a face that looked disturbingly human, albeit starved. Four fingers and two thumbs on each hand grasped the bars of the cell.


    ¡°Humans. You¡¯re human!¡± it said, in Brishaunna¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Demon! Get back!¡± the man with the gash said, lunging at her with his short sword. It lodged in her chest. She stared at it with eyes that kept flickering between red pinpoints of light and blue-white.


    ¡°Oh. You stabbed me,¡± she said and stepped back, staring at the blade. Two elves rushed to her side, one alive and one undead. Calyx, she knew. The other wore a uniform and a senechal¡¯s belt full of keys and pouches.


    ¡°You. Donem. You will not get your weapon back. You will be tortured for this,¡± said the living elf.


    ¡°You will be scourged from the land, demon lovers!¡± said the man who had been shaving, holding up a symbol of a circle of vines containing a fasces carried over the left shoulder of a velociraptor with a crown of leaves around its neck. The dinosaur¡¯s sickle-taloned foot rested on a globe. Calyx recoiled from the symbol but Brishauna reached up and ripped the symbol from the man¡¯s hand. She traced the embossed details, comparing the taloned foot to the pommel of the shortsword in her chest.


    ¡°I am not a demon. I¡¯m human, can¡¯t you see that?¡± asked Brishauna.


    ¡°Lady Brishauna, you are Ghrem, remember?¡± asked the living elf. Brishaunna froze for a moment.


    ¡°Oh. . .yes. I forgot,¡± she said, clenching her hands into a loose fist. Her hands couldn¡¯t ball up. They were not evolved to be able to make a tight fist. Human hands could though. The shaving man shook his fists at her.


    ¡°Foul thing. How dare you defile the emperor¡¯s symbol!¡±


    ¡°This?¡± Brishauna asked, holding up the disk. ¡°This is a symbol of Tarquin Donem. I know this symbol from the player¡¯s guide. You are centurions?¡±


    ¡°We are the third cohort tasked with pacifying this dungeon.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Brishauna, her eyes flickering to blue-white. ¡°I won¡¯t let you.¡±


    ¡°You cannot defy the will of the emperor you foul and undead thing.¡±


    ¡°I am not undead,¡± said Brishauna, ¡°Oh. Oh, you were repelling undead just now, weren¡¯t you? I forgot that his symbols are also holy symbols. You are a lictor. Where is your magistrate?¡±


    ¡°You ate him!¡±


    ¡°I did not,¡± said Brishaunna.


    ¡°Creature of darkness you will surrender Ov to the entry of as many adventuring parties as it will take to pacify it. You will give up your necropolis to the needs of the legion.¡±


    ¡°No. I am dungeonmaster here. It¡¯s mine.¡±


    The humans, except for the one with the bad leg, all got to their feet.


    ¡°Dungeonmaster? It is a lie! There are no dungeonmasters in all the Aryn. This is known! Heirophants now control seven out of twelve of all dungeons on the rim.¡±


    Calyx moaned at this news. The living elf shed tears and shook his head.


    ¡°Impossible. Impossible! You humans are just trying to demoralize us,¡± said the living elf.


    ¡°We define truth, you heathen torturer. It is true. Why do you think there are no reinforcements to your godsforsaken necropolis? We destroyed you all,¡± said the man with the bad leg. ¡°We have attempted to give hope and salvation to the Aryn and you have universally chosen death instead. Listen to the moaning of your undead abomination. It can sense the truth.¡±


    Calyx tore at her robes and wailed.


    ¡°Your cohort didn¡¯t even give me a chance to talk before you stabbed me,¡± Brishauna said, slammed the symbol down and ground it against the stone with her foot.


    In an instant, something seemed to snap in Calyx. She seized the gaoler, took his keys and left him cowering on the floor. The bars of the gaol slid open and she launched herself at the lictor, teeth at his throat. The light in Brishauna¡¯s eyes went completely red. She launched herself at the man with the gash. The video faded out.


    ¡°Holy shit, is that what I look like? Also, I don¡¯t remember that,¡± said Brishauna.


    ¡°Of course not, but it has been shown to you before. I used it to interpret some of the primitive communcations coming from the core mass. During this moment, you were in the paradox phase of cataclysm. It is rare that a creature at the event locus will remember any of it. During paradox, all possibilities are true. Your being existed in every state, alive, dead, undead; deathless.   D. recorded this with Ov¡¯s external sensors. Nothing goes on within the walls of Akel that Ov does not have record of. From the many images of you coming and going from the walls with the undead, we know you have been eating people regularly. Do not be hypocritical about slaughter. If another is chewing on a brain that has been sloughed off you, then it is your fault and you should not be surprised or angry. You should not seek revenge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the principle of the thing. Can¡¯t we do something to, I don¡¯t know. . . hurt her just a little? She¡¯s in my antechamber.¡±


    ¡°No. The undead are not there to compact with the dungeon for entry, therefore you can do nothing. I have shown you a piece of your existence to remind you that you are not mortal and should not think of the undead or the living as anything other than a potential source of power. The humans provided you with sustinence. You consumed their souls in your mindlessness. The undead known as Calyx is not a source to waste. She has served as an ally to this dungeon for the entirety of her existence.¡±


    ¡°So you know her.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Show me all her stats.¡±


    ¡°No. She has not made a compact for entry. She is above your challenge rating. That is all you need to know until you have completed more tutorials. When you go up to entreat with them as you must, for they are upon your doorstep, you are required to speak with Methanon. Methanon is the leader among the undead of Akel. Until then, you may wish to learn more about Ov. Please select an appropriate tutorial.¡±


    The dragon in her field of vision pointed to a list box filled with options.


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 51.4967%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Dungeoncrafting tutorials:</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can summon! Dungeon monsters</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can build! an oubliette</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can construct! a throne</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 51.161%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: left">Magic tutorials:</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can cast! Lvl 0 spark</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can¡¯t bestow! Lvl 0 Divine light</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can move! Dungeon phase</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 50.6666%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Dungeonmodding tutorials:</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can program! Making changes to worldbookd</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can command! basic physical resources</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">I can assimilate! Dungeon wildlife</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 50.9973%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Basic function tutorials:</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Lights, motion, sound!</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Exiting and entering the dungeon</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">The map system</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">The quest system</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Logging your adventurers</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Query mode</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Quitting Ov</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">Your primary objectives</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%">The Dungeon Status screen</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Brishaunna looked up and down the list


    ¡°Primary objectives?¡± she asked. The text glittered and a video popped up.


    In front of her, a figure stood with six-fingered hands and seven-toed feet that resembled hers. Above the figure, a golden egg with a blue dragon symbol hovered. This was the logo of Ov, and the figure represented her as a dungeonmaster. A dragon flew into the scene and settled on her shoulders, its wings forming a cape and its body a mantle. A bright light pulsed in front of her and became a face. Tentacles formed out of the mass, but the figure leaped at it and enveloped the mass, swallowed it, and settled to the floor, stomach distended. Then the image froze, a circle framed the scene of the bloated ghrem, and it floated to the top of her vision.


    Another scene appeared, but this time a figure of a giant glowing being wearing a toga and wielding lightning. It rode a bolt into a dungeon¡¯s core, and behind it demons, angels and mortals swarmed the dungeon. but the ghrem from the first image was there in the core room. Magical flashes and visual overlays of a malfunctioning screen occluded the scene, but when it cleared, only the ghrem remained, bolt of lightning in hand, her eyes pulsing blue-white. This scene also froze, and joined the previous scene.


    The third scene opened up in the midst of battle. Living, dead, and undead choked the entrance to a dungeon. Monsters bled on the stone, leaving the entire dungeon a sticky mess. A human man repelled into the core room. But the ghrem waited for him. She engaged him with swords, stabbed him in the chest and pulled his heart and soul from his body. The image stopped as the ghrem held the beating heart before her and wrenched the soul from it.


    The first image floated to the center of her vision. A banner unfurled below it:


    ¡°The control of the core mass and prevention of sophia.¡±


    The next image wheeled into view, replacing the first:


    ¡°The defense of the dungeon against external gods.¡±


    The final image appeared:


    ¡°The prevention of mortals from attaining godhood.¡±


    Then the three images formed an equilateral triangle. The words ¡°primary objectives¡± appeared in the center.


    Her vision blued out again, back to the list and the dragon.


    ¡°Well, that was cool. What about this one? Open the tutorial I can Move! Dungeon phase.¡±


    Another video appeared. A ghrem stood still while an egg capsule surrounded her. The image zoomed out to reveal a 3D map. The encapsulated ghrem blinked out of one room and appeared on the opposite end of the map. Another video appeared beside it, showing a ghrem touching the blue white wall of a dungeon room. Behind it, a mass of green wall separated her from the next room. The ghrem passed through the green into the next room. Then it showed the ghrem touching a wall behind which was a mass of red. A mass of symbols appeared over the grem¡¯s head as she tried to push against the wall. Just as with the primary directives, these videos got a circular frame and a banner to identify them. The first one read ¡°Teleport¡± and the second read ¡°Passwall¡±


    ¡°In phase mode, you can use the magic of the dungeon to move you to areas which you have explored. It consists of two functions: Passwall and Teleport. Both are limited by the constraints of the dungeon. Passwall allows you, creatures, and objects in your control to move freely between known chambers in your dungeon by phasing through solid matter such as stone. In teleport mode, daemons will transport you to a remote location from your present location in a similar way to how D. brought you to the treasure room by conveying you in its stomach. Teleport is limited to you and the objects adorning your body. To use teleport mode, access your map. Select your current location. Select the destination for teleport.¡±


    Brishauna looked at her map again. She couldn¡¯t reach the green stone above her so she selected teleport. The core room glowed blue. She selected the antechamber. A field of blue surrounded her like an egg.


    Blinding light stabbed her eyes.