Dueling Dungeons (Rogue Dungeon 5) - Chapter Six
Added 2020-12-14 16:01:01 +0000 UTCDraconian Changes
Roark and the Poser Owners finished off the last remaining dregs of Ganksters and Undead creatures summoned by Takumen-Ra, then began to loot the Burial Chamber. While Mac trundled around the corpses, trying to get the heroes to feed him the hearts of creatures he’d killed, Roark searched the Dungeon Lord’s corpse. The Transmutation Core was moderately high level, though he had no plans to use it for himself.
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Superior Cynic Transmutation Core
Rarity: Tier 8, Peerless
Creature Core Level: 63
Durability: Stable State
Half-life: N/A
Notice: Because the Superior Cynic Transmutation Core is Peerless level, it has a Stable durability and will not deteriorate over time.
Notice: Once implanted in a compatible host, the Superior Cynic Transmutation Core cannot be removed without destroying the Transmutation Core.
It’s what’s on the inside that counts… but sometimes what’s on the inside can significantly alter the outside…
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Perhaps he could find a Dungeon Lord who would benefit from the Cursed Priest’s core. Several of them were waiting for their chance at Mega-Evolutions. He stowed the stone, then took a moment to examine Takumen-Ra’s Crook and Rod more closely.
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Unique Cursed Crook and Rod of Cynical Evocation
One-Handed Damage: 78-91
Defense: 87
Durability: 199 of 199
Level Requirement: 52
Intelligence Requirement: 243
Equipping this Unique Dual Item grants the user the ability to summon Rabid Undead Jackals (Crook) and Infectious Plague Mummies (Rod).
Dual Class Weapon – Attack and Defense
+20 Necrotic Damage (Crook)
-20% Stamina Required for Dual Power Attacks (Rod)
If my afterlife be cursed eternity, then let me bring my curses down upon the entire world…
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It was tempting to take the weapons back to his Smithy and destroy them to learn their Enchantments, but Roark had come on this raid with one goal in mind: reaching level 70. The rest he’d promised to the Poser Owners. It was time to make good on that promise.
Suppressing a sigh, Roark handed off the weapons to PwnrBwner as a show of good faith.
“Spoils of war,” he said.
“Balls yeah.” The Ranger-Cleric assessed the weapon. “Wrong alignment for my build, but…” He jerked his chin at GothicTerror. “Yo, Screamo-tots, you can use Cursed items, can’t you?”
“Yeah.” The dark elf looked up from the Rabid Jackal she was looting.
“Congrats.” PwnrBwner tossed her the Crook and Rod. “You can summon your very own Undead dogs and mummies now.”
“Sick,” she said, eyes gleaming with admiration. “I’ll have to grind out a couple of levels, but totally worth it.”
“Told you, I keep my boyz stocked,” PwnrBwner said, shrugging.
Roark tried to keep the look of shock from his expression. The oddly generous side of the Ranger-Cleric was not one he’d often seen. It did, however, make him feel better about making such a power-hungry hero into essentially a small dictator.
While the Poser Owners finished looting the gold, jewels, and items, Roark filled his Inventory with several new types of poison sacks and the Transmutation Cores from the varied mobs roaming the Tomb. Then he waited, impatiently, for the heroes. He wanted to get back to the Cruel Citadel and utilize the Core he’d taken from the NecroDragon.
Finally, PwnrBwner announced that they were done.
“Mission complete, POSes,” the Ranger-Cleric announced, puffed up like a prideful peacock. “Time to party. Get us out of this dump, Griefer.”
“Gladly.” Roark cast a Level 9 Mass Portal spell, tearing the temporal fabric wide in shimmering violet.
The lot of them climbed through, stepping into the chiming grass at the edge of the Troll Nation Marketplace.
“Let’s get drunk!” the Blackguard Knave yelled, pumping his fists in the air. Several of the heroes agreed heartily, and they headed off for Flavortown.
“Good raid,” PwnrBwner said. He held a fist out and waited.
Roark stared at it, not certain how he was supposed to grip forearms with a fist in the way.
“Don’t be a weirdo for ten seconds,” PwnrBwner said. “It’s a fist bump. Boom.” He demonstrated with his opposite fist, hitting the knuckles together, then held it back out.
“Ah, I see.” Roark bumped the Ranger-Cleric’s gauntleted fist with his own. “Good raid.”
“Close enough.” PwnrBwner scrubbed Mac’s scaly head, then started backing toward the market. “Gonna come party with us, Griefer?”
“Not today,” Roark said. “I have a date with a Transmutation Core.”
PwnrBwner smirked. “Git them levels, boy.”
They parted ways, PwnrBwner following the route his Poser Owners had taken, while Roark took the portal plate to the Keep with Mac waddling along at his side. Excitement and anxiety coursed through him in equal measures as he imagined the possibilities of the NecroDragon core.
A recently Mega-Evolved Bonesnap Behemoth was posted outside the door to his study, courtesy of Zyra. Not to protect the room from looting by high-level heroes who made it this far, but to stop every mob in the Troll Nation from bursting in at all hours demanding Roark’s time and attention for small matters that could be handled elsewhere.
“Dungeon Lord,” the Behemoth rumbled, dipping his head.
Roark nodded in return. “Crusher, I need total solitude for at least the next hour. No matter who they are, no matter what’s coming down on our heads, no one is allowed through that door.”
The Bonesnap Behemoth saluted sharply. “Understood, Dungeon Lord!”
Roark opened the study door, and Mac trundled past him beelining for Roark’s accustomed seat.
“Er, Dungeon Lord?” Crusher said, a hint of squeamishness twisting his features. “Will there be much… screaming?”
Roark laughed. Occasionally, his experiments with new magicks failed horribly and killed him in shocking and gorey ways. Another reason Zyra had posted the guard—to prevent lower-level Trolls from finding shreds of their fearless leader scattered across his own study from spells gone wrong.
“Let’s hope not,” he told the Behemoth, clapping him on the shoulder.
That didn’t appear to assuage Crusher’s qualms. The Behemoth gulped and nodded resolutely.
Roark ducked into the study and closed the door behind him. Mac chirped from the seat behind Roark’s enormous black walnut desk.
“In a moment,” Roark said in a low tone. He was too excited to sit down yet.
Quickly, he opened his grimoire to the Character page. He was giddy with the possibilities of the NecroDragon core, but that didn’t mean he could neglect the basics of the new level. In a few moments, he’d distributed his new allotment of points, investing six points into Intelligence—his prime attribute as a spell caster—then adding two points apiece into Strength and Dexterity, so as not to allow them to become too imbalanced. Strangely, the number of Vassals, both Greater and Lesser, he could make had multiplied significantly. He couldn’t imagine needing so many, but perhaps those would become useful in the future.
As Level 70 was high above any Evolution a Jotnar should have reached, Roark had gained no new Infernali Spells. He had, however, unlocked another ability of the World Stone Pendant.
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World Stone Pendant
Durability: Indestructible
Level Restriction: 1
Property: Soul-Forge – Imbue the undead with life and will.
Current World Stone Authority: Greater Vassal 11/52; Lesser Vassal 68/630 [random numbers; not sure what we want here]
Property: Glamour Cloak – Use arcane power to disguise your appearance even to the keenest of eyes. Cast 1 per day; duration, 3 hours.
Property: Transmute Energy – Meld and merge the primal energies and magicks in the world around you to your will.
Property: Transmute Flesh – Twist and shape the very fabric of living flesh, crafting unspeakable creations fit to serve your bidding and will.
Property: Temporal Binding – Form, shape, and stitch together the fabric of reality itself, bending time and space as you wish.
Property: ???
The World Stone can bend, shape, and distort reality, allowing the bearer the power of Creation and Life itself …
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Bending the temporal fabric that held worlds together was such an insanely powerful ability that Roark could hardly wrap his head around the implications. The first and most obvious was that he should be able to use Temporal Binding to create a connecting point between Hearthworld and Traisbin, one that he controlled rather than one that he had to take from Lowen.
Roark twisted the pendant in his hands while he considered that course of action: create a portal directly to Marek’s bedchamber, step in, cut the despot down while he slept.
It sounded convenient and simple, but that was exactly the plan that had landed him in Hearthworld in the first place. It had failed horribly because of Lowen. If that overwriting horse’s ass hadn’t been the one to set the trap in Von Graf Manor for Roark in the first place, then Roark would eat his Initiate’s Spellbook.
No, if he were to have any chance at killing Marek and ridding Traisbin of the Tyrant King’s influence, he would have to take out the despot’s right-hand mage first. Then Roark could finish the job with Marek knowing he wouldn’t get an Angelic Lance in the back before the tyrant was dead.
To deal with Lowen, however…
Roark turned to the page in his grimoire displaying his slowly spinning avatar. Lean, ghostly pale, covered in swirling purple tattoos of power. Thick ram’s horns curled back around his skull and spiked leathery wings folded behind his back, but there was still a hint of the man he’d been before coming to Hearthworld. The shaggy black hair, the slightly hooked Lyuko traveler’s nose, the hell-for-blood determined scowl hardening his sinewy jaw.
In the lower right corner of the page, a bit of text blinked.
[Preview Transmutation Core?]
As soon as he selected it, a list of the cores he’d collected in the Tomb of Takumen-Ra appeared. They were impressive, from a host of high-level mobs, but none were so powerful as the Arch-NecroDragon’s Artifact-level core. Roark selected the deadly looking black stone. Twin blue and orange lights pulsed from its center, reminiscent of the NecroDragon’s Ghostly Fire and Nuclear Winter Ice breath attack.
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Arch-NecroDragon Transmutation Core
Rarity: Tier 9, Artifact
Creature Core Level: 99
Durability: Stable State
Half-life: N/A
Notice: Because the Arch-NecroDragon Transmutation Core is Artifact level, it has a Stable durability and will not deteriorate over time.
Notice: Once implanted in a compatible host, the Arch-NecroDragon Transmutation Core cannot be removed without destroying the Transmutation Core.
It’s what’s on the inside that counts… but sometimes what’s on the inside can significantly alter the outside…
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The fist-sized core stone floated over the head of his avatar, lines of spidery text appearing in response to his selection.
[Compatibility: 99%
New Evolutionary Path for Roark the Griefer, Draconic Chaos Harbinger, detected! Archdaemon Tyrannous (available at level 89) or Undying Dragonblood Seraph (available at level 99).]
Roark read over the changes that would take place when he merged with this core. Not only would the transmutation raise his current level from 70 to 84—locking in his new respawn cap at 84—but his Primal energy type would change from Infernal to Undead Infernal. That would give each of his spells a new dose of Necrotic Damage in addition to their base Infernal Damage—exactly the shift he’d been hoping for. As Infernal was the Subservient Dyad to the Divine, Roark’s pure Infernal magicks had been worthless against Lowen or his Herald ilk. Divine energies, however, were Subservient to the Undead on the Primal Creation Wheel, which meant Lowen would be at the mercy of Roark’s Infernal Undead spells once the transmutation was complete. That, combined with his grasp of Discordant Inversion, should give him a leg up over the overwriting mage, even with the gap in their levels.
There were also a host of new abilities awaiting Roark. He grinned as he looked them over.
Dragon’s Flight: Take wing from any location without draining your Stamina. Red Updraft and blue Downdraft arrows no longer have any effect on you.
Infernal Necrotic Breath: Breathe a 15-foot gout of gangrenous Necrotic flame upon any hero or chimera. Opponents struck by Infernal Necrotic Breath take 9n damage, where n is the caster’s character level, and 9n Necrosis damage + 9n Infernal damage per second for 30 seconds. Necrotic flame cannot be extinguished. 15% chance opponents with a Constitution less than caster’s Constitution will suffer immobilization by Rigor Mortis for 15 seconds.
Raise Thralls: Raise the bodies of the slain as Infernal Undead servants with n/3HP, where n is the caster’s Health. Caster may raise 1 Thrall per every 3 character levels.
Draconia Form: The soul of the Eternal Dragon lives on in you. Once per 24-hour period, leave behind your lowly lesser form and reign supreme over land and sky as the Undead Serpent.
Each of the abilities were beyond what Roark had hoped for, but that last was the most intriguing. His grin stretched even wider as he considered testing the Draconia Form. There would be time for that later, though. With a twenty-four hour cool down, he would have to choose his testing ground wisely. First, he needed to finalize his lesser form.
He returned to his avatar and quickly went through the host of alterations available for his transmuted appearance. His ram’s horns he altered until they curved up and away from his head like those the NecroDragon had sported. The alteration turned his hair from shaggy and in need of a crop to long and flowing. In place of the Hardened Leathers he’d been wearing for armor, his body was covered in thick onyx scales trimmed with a deep glowing purple. Sharp pauldron-like overlapping plates grew out of his shoulders and covered his upper arms, and a bevor of solid onyx curled up from his throat to surround his ghostly pale jaw. With a quick adjustment, he extended the bevor upward until it came to dragon-fanged peaks at his temples.
Bloody damnation if he didn’t look rather fearsome. Not to mention powerful. He could almost pass for the Sky Devourer from Traisbin’s ancient Day of Reckoning legends like this. Hopefully instead of trapping Traisbin in eternal night, however, he would free the land from her bloody despot.
Roark checked over his stats and abilities one more time to make certain he hadn’t missed anything.
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Satisfied, he turned to the question that now waited in the corner of the page.
[Would you like to transmute Jotnar Infernali and Arch-NecroDragon to form mega evolution: level 84 Draconic Chaos Harbinger? Yes/No]
Taking a deep breath and steeling his resolve, he selected Yes.
Brilliant amber light flashed from the World Stone on his chest, filling the room and temporarily blinding him. Scales and armor erupted from his flesh and tore a scream from his throat. He dropped to one knee. His heart charged like a rampaging rotbeast, and he had a moment’s clarity to hope his shout wouldn’t draw Crusher from his post outside.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the transmutation was over.
The World Stone Pendant went dark and lifeless once again, and for a moment, the only sound in the study was Roark’s harsh breathing. The stone clinked slightly against Roark’s chest scales as he stood.
Delicate claws ran through Roark’s long hair, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Impressive,” a dusky feminine voice purred. “Cold-blooded reptilian monster becomes you, Dungeon Lord.”
Roark spun around to find Zyra hanging from the ceiling. A dark veil obscured her face—hanging upward from her recurved onyx horns as if gravity worked differently for the Orbweaver Ravager—but Roark could see the glint of her mismatched purple and green eyes appraising him from behind the sheer black lace.
Roark raised an eyebrow. “I thought I told Crusher to keep everyone out.”
Zyra laughed and used her long spidery limbs to climb down and face him.
“Crusher may be loyal to you, Griefer, but he’s terrified of me.” She hooked a strand of web around his shoulders and pulled him closer, whispering, “I think it’s the fangs.”
Roark lifted the veil aside and spent a few moments testing her fangs himself.
“I don’t know,” he said when he pulled away, a trickle of blood coming from his lips. “I rather like them.”
Zyra’s smile disappeared behind the veil once more, and she wandered around him, inspecting the changes made by the transmutation.
“Level 84?” She hummed approvingly. “If you hadn’t already killed him, Azibek would die of jealousy when he saw how far his arrogant little Changeling rival has come.”
“I’m hoping at least one Dungeon Lord will lose his head over it,” Roark said, smirking. “Then I can plant it on a stake.”
Zyra stopped in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest. “While it warms my heart to hear you’re finally coming around to decorating your throne room with your enemies’ heads, Griff isn’t so convinced your plan to storm the Vault of the Radiant Shield will work, new levels or no.”
Roark frowned.
Griff had been growing more and more concerned ever since Lowen tried that assassination attempt with Talise. The grizzled weapons trainer thought Roark was rushing into this attack now that he knew his sister was in the hands of the enemy. Roark disagreed. While the thought of Talise in Marek’s clutches did serve to keep him pushing constantly toward the goal of taking Lowen out and getting back to Traisbin, the truth was if he wasn’t prepared now, with everything he’d gained, then he never would be. It was time. Waiting longer would only give Lowen time to prepare a stronger defense or learn about Roark’s new Draconian abilities.
“The new levels and the Undead spells will go a long way toward taking the Vault,” Roark said, making a mental note to speak with Griff as soon as possible. “Whatever ground is left to cover after that, I’ll find a way. In that vein, I found something that might help.” He dug into his inventory, searching for the shiny Black Fire Scorpling corpse. “Fresh from the newest dungeon in Hearthworld.”
She inspected it, one set of hands holding the Scorpling out while the other cupped her chin.
“Its venom is corrosive to metals,” she said, excitement creeping into her voice.
“Highly,” Roark said. “I watched a few drops eat through solid steel plate today. I brought back as many as I could carry.”
He transferred the lot of them to her.
“For me?” Zyra chuckled darkly. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
He gave her a wry smile. “It comes with an ulterior motive. I’d hoped a certain veiled Septic Brewmaster could find a way to eat through the Herald’s gold skin with it.”
“It’ll require some modifications,” she said, cocking her head thoughtfully and rubbing her chin beneath her veil. “Gold is a sun metal, and steel is a moon alloy.” Suddenly, her body language shifted, extra spider-limbs shivering with excitement. She clapped her extra hands together. “I may have just the trick. I’ll come find you when I know for sure.”
She turned sharply on a heel and headed for the door, then stopped suddenly. “Oh, and Griefer, a group of representatives from the allied Dungeon Lords is waiting for you in the Grand Hall. They showed up about five minutes after you left to the Onyx Sands and refused to leave without speaking to you. I think their masters are getting as anxious about your plan to attack the Vault as Griff is.”
Roark frowned more deeply this time. “And you didn’t think that was important enough to tell me straight away?”
“I don’t ferry messages for Dungeon Lords anymore,” she said, shrugging one midnight shoulder. “I was Azibek’s messenger and look where that got him.”
With that, she slipped out the study door.
Cursing under his breath, Roark headed for the Grand Hall. He had allies to reassure.
