Dungeon Core: Bugged Ascension

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Despite all the tension, emotion and excitement of waking up that morning, the rest of the day and the weeks following were unconscionably banal. Especially considering that he was openly bringing his lover, his mate, along for a trip with the Mu’Reign Queen to seek an audience with his government.

As they traveled, he spoke often and candidly with the Queen or the Advisor. Sometimes those topics were about human intimacy and the more physical aspects of those expressions. If not for his long relationship with “Honey” who’s Naming almost made him blackout with how much it cost him as a mere Epic tier; their blunt and scientific approach to discussing so-called private details would have put him off.

The years of living among the Mu’Reign have certainly changed him. He was swept up in romanticism before, when he declared Honey as greater than his duty to his country. But as their journey draws them ever closer to the city he grew up in, he is surprised by how true that feels. After some soul searching, in those quiet moments alone together, he realizes that he should probably officially resign from his post.

The Mu’Reign don’t have or value conventional wealth as many in the Gestalt Kingdoms do, nor is there a stigma of race among them. For them, all people are people. Though some people, whose reactions and manner of interactions are more disruptive than harmonious will find themselves excluded, ostracized and unwelcome. When those traits arise amongst their own kind, these people are sent out on pilgrimages, to either discover themselves or a better place to be. Many end up returning and being able to reciprocate the hive’s embrace once exposed to the world at large.

He knows his place amongst them is secure and is somewhere he would have been able to thrive, even if he hadn’t found Honey. The air just tastes better among them than it ever did back in the Capital. So, in his actual private moments with her, they discuss how they will live if he’s no longer an envoy with her as his governess.

As they arrive at their destination and the various pomp and ceremony is observed for such a rare occurrence of a Royal’s visit, he plays his parts appropriately while awaiting his chance. Once the Envoy’s presence is no longer needed in public, he escorts Honey as he goes back to the offices to give a full debrief. When he asks for the head of the department he doesn’t expect to get an appointment with them quickly, but as it happens the chief wanted to speak with him as well.

After a relatively short exchange of information about the more compartmentalized portions of his job, he’s allowed to invite Honey into the meeting. Feeling unexpectedly nervous, though keeping solid enough control to not show it, he starts in on what’s become more important.

“So, with that business done and before I get to why I called you in here. I’m told you also wanted to speak with me specifically. As you waited until you’d brought in a guest, I imagine this might be something of a personal nature?”

He nods, gathers his courage and speaks plainly, “Yessir. This is Honey. We met during my assignment with the Mu’Reign-“

His boss greets her kindly, “Naturally. Meaning no offense miss, but you’re one of the more integrated of the Mu’Reign I’ve had the pleasure to meet.”

After shaking his boss’s hand, when she steps back and takes hold of his own again, he feels his anxiety wash away. He turns from where he was captivated just looking at her, still occasionally struck with amazement that they belong to each other, “Yes. So, uhh, I’ve come in today to declare that I will be making her my wife. Also, I feel that I may be no longer well-suited for this occupation.”

His boss gives him another more congenial handshake, clapping him on the shoulder with a laugh and large smile, “Well first, congratulations are in order! And also, excellent that you broached the subject first.”

He keeps his professional smile on his face while his nerves go haywire as he nods along as his boss continues, “From the reports we’ve gotten on your activities while among the Mu’Reign, along with this visit from their Queen. The higher ups have agreed that an Envoy will no longer be necessary.”

Only his learned bodily control from all the time and experiments he’s performed with Honey allow him to keep the blanch form his face, but his boss isn’t finished, “Due to the recognition of both their independence and yet steady commitment to the Gestalt Kingdoms as a whole, it has been decided that an Ambassador will be appointed. Considering the glowing recommendations you’ve received, and your pending nuptials only furthering your candidacy. What do you have to say?”

As attuned to him as she is, Honey recognizes his shock and pushes herself closer to him, an application of force on specific pressure points keeps him from losing control of himself. His boss leans back on his desk, a cheerful smile as he looks between them, “So, are you up to being the image of what the Gestalt Kingdoms represent and living your life amongst the Mu’Reign as a more permanent arrangement. Ambassador?”

As a beat of silence descends, Honey discreetly supplements his biochemistry while pulling his mind out of its stall, “%Well, Dear? It’s a big step, and different than what we were planning. What should we do?%” In those short moments of speech, they share a deep communion, something they’d been working on over the last several months. But it was only after being so open about their relationship with the Queen and the Singer who was brought along, that with the latter’s support, they were able to make progress in leaps and bounds.

Seconds stretched out to minutes and hours of in-depth conversation between them. The change in responsibilities that being an Ambassador would mean for them, versus the quieter life they’d already planned out.

Ultimately, she appealed to his better natures to convince him it was okay to accept. His love for her and his genuine interest in her people would be the best possible representation they could ask for.

Pulling back from the short, chaste kiss she gave him after her question, his mind now settled, he turns to his boss with a smile, “I consider it an honor to accept. As Honey mentioned, we’ll have to shuffle around our plans, but-“ he nearly stumbles out ‘we’ but is able to seamlessly continue, “-I think it’s something we could work out. We both love our peoples, and if it’s felt that I would make a good representative, then I’ll happily adapt.”

“%Yes. We can make it work. Thank you for offering this opportunity to my husband-to-be. May our people’s union be as prosperous as-%” She pauses and hugs herself to him, “%our lives have been enriched since we found each other.%”

It is much later that the couple get their first assignment. As an attaché to a Singer making their way with Mu’Reign and Kingdom escort on a tour of some of the farther territories. Purportedly as a means to allow those on longer pilgrimages to have a chance to commune with the hive, but with his new set of clearances, on both sides, he knows its true purpose. To discreetly check in with a specific expedition of Mu’Reign sent out to perform research on a dungeon.

A newly scouted Divine dungeon that has somehow caught the attention of War Herself. Now in their moments alone, he finds himself shaking while she holds him close. The mere mention of that Mythic figure enough to drive many that have already attained True Legendary status to terror, and now he must be the official face of a mission which holds personal interest for them, “I’m sorry for being so weak my love.”

As she holds him tightly, a soothing hum resonating with his shuddering, “%You have nothing to be ashamed of husband mine. She terrifies us too. Even our Queen Famine defers to Lady War.%”

~/Someone bound in the\ Throne Room /of the Demon King\.

My shackles seem lighter today. The joy the other Heralds felt at the return of Famine’s lost /blasphemous\ twin in spirit if not in form was a great boon to the latest battle. I feel that the strength I spent was, for once, not more than I gained from Reaping those final breaths. More of my fallen kin join me briefly before they are then ripped away by these accursed chains.

And yet, I retained some measure of peace after their extraction. With Pestilence able to act once more, to disseminate the {Tainted} bodies and warped souls, as Famine saps their will after War has thrashed their capability for violence, once more my caress can reach out and sooth the torturous nature of how my kind were changed.

Although I remain bound here long after his defeat, a final measure to prevent me from destroying the vision he held for the world. My spirit and connection to those other Grand Concepts feel the turning of the gears as the world beings to change radically, and at such a fast pace. Hopefully for the better.

All of this is none too soon either. For the Heirs have been whittled down to mere handfuls of Chosen. When at last there is only one remaining, they will attempt to claim this Throne again, and the World Itself must unite in defiance of what they would seek.

One day my chains will either grow long enough that a new King may cast me fully from the Throne, enough of my Aspect stolen and sealed within the links and throne itself to separate me from it. Else, someone will need to venture /into the deepest Rust Wastes\, conquer /the Broken Core\, and ascend /its Infinite Staircase to arrive at\ the Throne. There they will have the opportunity to free me… in one way or the other.

My will used to be unyielding, but as the ages pass and more and more Myths are brought forth that know not the Second Apocalypse… I falter and begin to wonder if perhaps even the first escape would be a mercy I would accept.

I think… I will try to hold on a while longer. For the young chick brought into a conflict far beyond her knell, “God speed, young phoenix. Your power is needed.”

~A colossal gold dragon.

Death’s faint whisper is heard by the oldest and grandest of dragons. Usually sleeping for decades at a time, he is roused earlier than expected. Last pacified by Young War’s assurances that Pestilence’s fall would be dealt with… but then the poor hivemind perished. The grief at losing a second companion of Ages when he felt the change wrought by Famine had him dive back into torpor. He doesn’t blame War for her actions, she fights with her all and respects her Aspect, so when Pestilence was slain, he knows it was because no alternative was given to the poor human child.

When he opens his jaws and unleashes a yawn of world devouring proportions, he also extends his senses through an exhale as he is released from the bone popping grip of lethargy. As his breath of Wealth swiftly encompasses his domain, his gentle procedure of waking is interrupted. There has been a massive population boon in just, “23 years?” That doesn’t sound right.

A second, deeper pass with his senses alerts him to a massive influx of hoards in addition to the higher tally on the census. Confusion more than delight fills him, because he remembers many of the hoards out there, and most of them are relatively unchanged. Yet, there are a smattering of enormous collections now present, collections he doesn’t recognize in the slightest. And the Herald of Wealth never forgets a coin.

Before he can truly begin to investigate this anomaly further his hearing finally clears enough to notice the quiet sobbing of a youth. That more than anything causes him to push himself to full wakefulness. He can deal with questions of new-old money and learning what a phoenix is later. For now, there is a child in need.

He rumbles his voice in his chambers to be sure of its control before casting it to the nook the little dragon has claimed in their time of sorrow, “Speak, as I am listening. Why do you cry?”

There is a hiccupping reply, “Silver’s son taunted me about my old friends. Called me a traitor for befriending someone other than our kind. Said I’m stupid for not realizing-” the emotional dam bursts as they scream out their wretched pain, “that they’re dead!”

As he projects out a comforting presence, he finally rouses fully. Straining his aching and stiff muscles, long locked from their prison of sleep. Because while his efforts are on comforting, such that he can, the devastated youth, his mind whirs as an old rage begins bubbling in his gullet. ‘Silver’ isn’t a name he recognizes. For there to be a son of theirs insulting a dragon for cultivating the wealth of friendship…

His long unused Title, Wyrm Eater, rouses with him as he continues his quiet conversation where the little one pours out their heart and soul to the mountain. Likely unaware that the Sleeping One hears them, grieves with them, and will do battle on their behalf. The ancient cloak of grief that he’s worn, burying his head in the sand, and worse still, denying himself and his people the remembrance of the Mantle his lost sister once held.

A carefully shielded growl tears through his chambers as suddenly, many things fall into place. The rumors and whispers in his dream walking amongst the banks and vaults across the lands, the fear that a dragon would take their wealth. The unrecognized hoards of new but old wealth and an influx in population, “Bandits. Thieves. Where is their (PRIDE!!)”

The mountain shakes despite the strength of the shield holding back his roar as the Grand Gold Dragon erupts from his chambers. While far away from the Midas Volcano and unseen by anything living or otherwise, one of the links connecting a Rusty set of chains to a massive if dull throne, cracks.