Shadowcroft's Academy for Dungeons Chapter 22

Logan finally found sleep, deep and dreamless. He’d slept like that before, but not since his time in Iraq. True, he’d worked some grueling hours in his landscaping business, but nothing had compared to coming in after a three-day patrol then collapsing onto his lumpy mattress, body worn out and mind broken from the prolonged stress and anxiety. Those had been difficult days, but he’d never slept sounder.

He woke with a start to a warm room smelling of food, with his friends eating. Inga was in her reading chair, with a lamp burning over her head. She had a tray balanced on her lap, with a plate full of colorful cookies and a glass of chocolate milk.

Treacle’s tray had three kinds of grass: red, green, and blue. The minotaur sighed. “I don’t like the blue grass. It’s good for me. So I eat it. Every meal is such a chore.”

Marko had a huge goblet of mead and a big turkey leg. He saw Logan’s eyes open. “Hey! Our guy is awake! And so very yellow!”

Logan pulled himself up and noticed his hands, which were big and wide with three long, thick fingers. They looked like teenage mutant ninja turtle hands except he was the color of a lemon. Apparently, when life gives you lemons, those lemons also occasionally dyed you neon yellow. Around him was the black husk of the cast-off crust from his evolutionary cocoon. Logan grimaced. Being a mushroom had its perks at times, but it could also be pretty gross. “Sorry, Marko, I’ll wash your sheets for you.”

The satyr wrinkled his goat nose. “What? You don’t wash sheets. Is that even a thing?”

Inga sighed. “You’re so disgusting.”

Marko waved his bird leg around. “Kidding! Kind of. Not really. How you feel, buddy?”

Logan’s yellow feet were off the bed, and they were also very TMNT, three thick toes dipped in C-3PO paint. He was wearing a pair of Marko’s linen pants. Wait. How could he fit in Marko’s pants?

Logan slid off the end and stood. He raised his arms. His forearms were thicker than his biceps. And then he noticed the golden ridges of hard chitin lining his body. That hard skin would give his rubbery body some much needed solidity. Interesting. Certain parts of his body had actually been reinforced with what looked like additional layers of overlapping plates of fungal mail:. The lower portion of his left leg, his left shoulder and forearm, and the knuckles of his right hand. All places that he’d sustained serious trauma back in the real world. It seemed the Iron Trunk transformation had not only made him stronger overall but had actually turned his greatest weaknesses into strengths.

Incredible. 

He touched his cap and felt the hard ridges up there as well. His head was less round and more flouncy, like he was wearing a yellow sun hat. He gazed down at his friends. “I’m huge! I grew like five feet!”

“Two feet, short stuff,” Marko said. “Not that tall. But I like the new look.”

“I need a mirror!” Logan touched his face and felt a little nose and thin lips. He had lips again! Marko shuffled through some drawers and gave him a mirror.

Logan instantly recognized the regal yellow mushroom from his visions. It was him. Or he was it. At least partially. He also saw that in some ways, he had his old face back, but now he was a golden yellow mushroom man, thinner than his old Toadstool form, but with bigger hands and feet. The change was striking, but not altogether unwelcome. He was less cute toadstool and more fearsome dungeon core, which was certainly a nice change.

The gem in his belly glowed as he accessed his matrix for everyone to see:

                                                                                <<< ۝ >>>

Logan Murray

Guardian Core Matrix

Base Race: Fungaloid

Current Evolution: Shroomian Acolyte 

Cultivator Class: Iron Trunk Cultivator; C-Class, Rank 10

Primary Elemental Affinities: Morta/Toxicus

Racial Abilities: 

- Digestion

Racial Skill: 

- Domestic Fungi

Level-One Proto-Spore Cultures

- Opal Truffles, Mucal Film, Ghoul’s Snare, Outstanding Allotment!

Level-Two Proto-Spore Cultures

- Braincaps, Outstanding Allotment!

Level-Three Proto-Spore Cultures

- Outstanding Allotment!

Fungal Form (Active): 

- Exoskeleton

Fungal Form (Passive):

- Fungal Vision

- Disease Immunity

- Poison Immunity

Spore Halo: 

- Pollinic Affliction

- Symbiosis

- Athlete’s Foot

- Rapid Growth

                                                                                 <<< ۝ >>> 

This wasn’t the first time he’d show them his matrix, and it wouldn’t be the last. These were his best friends, and every day, he felt closer to them—especially after Marko’s confession the night before.

Treacle sat eating the blue grass and viewed the information without comment.

Marko was drinking from his goblet when the matrix filled the air. He spit out a mouthful of mead. “Shroomian Acolyte? That was my favorite emo band in high school. Oh my gosh. You’re almost impressive.”

Inga approached the glowing information. “Yes, a C-Class, Rank 10. Now he is immune to poison, and yes, I do believe his Digestion skill has improved exponentially. Can you drill down?”

Logan chose the Digestion ability and read through it with his friends.

<<< >>>

IRON TRUNK DIGESTION

-  Digestion converts 10% consumable mass directly into additional Apothos

-  Digestion instantly converts 60% of all Apothos with an Elemental Affinity into pure Apothos. 

-  Create up to (2) Acidic Digestion Pits in your dungeon to aid in your digestion efforts! 

-  Ability Gain: Reclamation/Reconstitution. Now, the fungaloid can consume inorganic matter such as weapons, armor, metals, and fabrics, breaking them down and reclaiming the items as base usable crafting components. Reclaim 40% of the item into raw material! 

                                                                                <<<>>>  

Treacle stopped chewing. Long stems of the blue grass hung out of his open mouth. “Raw materials? Raw materials from inorganic matter? Am I reading that right?”

Inga clapped her hands together. Bits of sugar and cookie crumbs went flying. “Yes! This is amazing, astounding even. And your skin, it has the beginnings of an exoskeleton. Those ridges will make you far more durable.”

Logan focused on his Harden ability and realized that it had indeed been replaced by a new ability called Exoskeleton. He activated it out of curiosity, and the lines of dark gold chitin spiderwebbed across his skin. His whole body widened. He took a step, and yes, he would be a tad slower, but he had his own suit of armor, light but resilient, reinforcing his body without being too cumbersome.

Inga wasn’t done. “I also believe your Pollen ability changes with your new form.”

Logan checked.

                                                                                <<<>>>  

Symbiosis: As an Iron Trunk cultivator, it is now possible to use the Symbiosis ability with more than one host. You may now pair with multiple dungeoneers—acting as an Eldritch Patron—or use your ability in tandem with additional dungeon cores, creating a unique relationship where a single dungeon could host multiple cores. 

Alert! As Iron Trunk cultivator (C-Class, Rank 10) you now have the ability to bond with up to three different hosts at the same time. 

Restrictions! All fungaloids can naturally bond with one Prime Host, but maintaining a symbiotic connection with more than the Prime Host is a taxing process that can only be maintained for a limited period of time. Note, when the time allotment elapses, the secondary Hosts will be released, though the Prime Host will remain infected! Note, to increase your infection time allotments, cultivate more Core Knots, which will allow for greater focus and more efficient Apothos utilization! 

Prime Host = Permanent Bond

Prime Host + 1 = 4 Hours

Prime Host + 2 = 2 Hours
 

                                                                                <<<>>>  

Logan read and reread the text. Now that was interesting, but ultimately useless because his core was so wimpy. If hadn’t grown up on Earth, this really might mean something. True, he hoped to improve, and being able to bind with more hosts could have some added benefits down the road, but outside of the Tartarucha Cells, four hours was hardly long enough to set up a proper dungeon, let alone run one. Maybe he could use it to bind with a Raider party? He wasn’t sure, but at least it was nice to know that the ability would become more powerful as he grew. With a grin, Logan moved on to the next ability: 

                                                                                <<<>>>  

Pollinic Affliction: Now, as an Iron Trunk cultivator, the fungaloid’s pollen will swamp the eyes, nose, and lungs of their enemies. This cloud of spores has the possibility of disabling or even killing.

- 10% chance of causing shortness of breath

- 5% chance of causing blindness

- 3% chance of anaphylactic shock

- 1% chance of mortal sneezing.

                                                                               <<<>>> 

Logan had to joke, “So, yeah, now I won’t have to worry about Sir Benadryl undoing all my evil plans.”

No one got it. Because, as Inga would say, Culturally specific references aren’t helpful.

Marko tilted his head and mused out loud. “Aren’t those percentages kind of lame? I mean, a one percent chance of anything isn’t very world-threatening. Though”—he shrugged—“mortal sneezing does sound pretty bad. Death by achoo.”

Treacle shrugged. “A one percent chance isn’t zero. As for fungal infections, I used to get athlete’s foot as a gnome. My boots would get very sweaty.”

“Not anymore,” Marko said cheerfully. “Having hooves rules.” He clopped his feet down.

Inga couldn’t stop smiling and shaking her head. “You get so many more Proto-Spore Cultures to choose from, including a level three. This is very important, Logan. This changes everything. Your powers are significantly more impressive.” She paused and glanced down, not willing to meet his eyes. “You know, if you don’t want to continue our symbiotic relationship, I would understand.”

Before he could answer, Marko, oblivious, settled an arm over Logan’s shoulders. The satyr was still taller, but now Logan felt more like his brother than his five-year-old son. “This is all great news, Logan, my mushroom mate, my blinding yellow boy, but really, we need to get to the party. A few weeks ago, I had Chef Treegee put aside a pot of coffee for you. There’s a fine layer of muck on top. You’ll love it.”

Treacle grabbed their empty trays. “I don’t much like parties. But it’s too early to go to bed. I might as well be miserable in the Golden Serpent Hall.” He ducked out of the room. Marko left with the minotaur, leaving Logan and Inga alone.

A worry line creased the skin between the astral moth’s eyes.

“Inga,” Logan started, “I told Rockheart, and I’m telling you. I don’t want to do this dungeon core stuff alone. Back on my planet, we had a saying, esprit de corps, which basically boils down to the feeling you get when you’re with a team, working together. It’s what has kept me going.”

Her antennae shrank. “But if you knew about me. If you knew how much I failed, you wouldn’t want me in your team. Besides, I’m so ugly now.” That crease between her eyes deepened.

Logan tried to soothe her. “You’re not ugly, and even if you were, I’d make you look good in comparison. I’m a yellow mushroom guy with a skin condition. Granted, the skin condition gives me armor, but it still isn’t all that easy on the eyes. Bottom line, we’re partners. I want us to take the Winnowing exam together. If you’re willing.”

Inga searched his face to see if he was serious. When she saw he was, she nodded, and her demeanor changed. “Of course we’ll take the Winnowing exam together. And you were right with all your talk of the law of diminishing returns. Now, let’s go watch Marko dance. I find it both amusing and slightly disconcerting.” A small smile crept across her face when she talked about the satyr. It was a far tamer version of the look she usually reserved for Professor Nekhbet.

Interesting.

Logan put on one of Marko’s Azure Dragon robes, and they made the trek to the Golden Serpent Hall. The place had been transformed, with tall trees of every kind growing straight out of the floor. Candles were attached to their branches, giving the place a nice, Christmas-tree light. Not Christmas-y? A strange band of slug people played music on the raised platform at the front of the room.

Treacle stood in a corner, disgruntled as ever, while there in the middle, Marko cut a fearsome rug. He was both funny looking, not caring at all what people thought, and strangely graceful, keeping time, working his arms, bobbing his head, and having the time of his life. The Gelatinous Knight danced near him. He was an awkward, gooey affair.

As Logan and Inga made their way over to Treacle, Ed the Rot Troll came up to him. The huge green thing nodded. “Mushroom. Yellow. Flouncy.” He flicked Logan’s cap, sending wobbles across his head.

“Me like.” Ed kept on walking.

The First Cohort stood across the room with Professor Rockheart. Ned and Zed had done a good job of putting Jimi Magmarty back together. The earth elemental towered over the rest, and it was comical how the gargoyle professor and his favorite band of butt kissers kept their eyes off Logan and his friends. As if Logan cared. Tet-Akhat stood with a bored look on her face. She caught Logan’s eye and nodded at him.

He nodded back. They both smiled, sharing a little moment.

Inga convinced Treacle to dance with her, and they left their corner. Treacle figured he’d be equally miserable dancing as standing, so it didn’t matter. And it would make Inga happy. They joined Marko, and the satyr let out an elated yell. Alphonse the Spice Mummy and Yellsa the Lady Ice Dragon joined them. They all danced in a big group, swaying and spinning in ways no human could ever move.

Logan was left alone, tapping his three-toed feet. 

Shadowcroft was going around talking with professors and students, making sure everyone was having a good time, though the tree-like headmaster would sometimes blend in too well with the various types of trees.

The old tree man happily let out a hoot and spread his arms when he saw Logan. “Yes! You have reached Iron Trunk and a new evolutionary form, Mr. Murray. And my, how yellow you are. Remind me again the name of an Iron Trunk fungaloid.”

“Shroomian Acolyte,” Logan said.

Shadowcroft circled him. “Yes, I see your Harden skill has improved, and I’m sure that’s not all. We haven’t spoken, but I wanted to congratulate you on your many achievements. What you are doing with Inga Thosa Therian is remarkable. Really, truly remarkable. You two have all the professors talking, you know. How wrong I was about fungaloid. But of course, I thought you were a normal core. You are not. You are so much more.” He tapped the side of his gnarled crooked nose conspiratorially.

Logan offered him a lopsided shrug. “That’s what people keep telling me. I like working with Inga. And I love my friends. Honestly, I’m just happy to be here.”

“Friends.” The smile on Shadowcroft’s face dimmed. “Yes, friendship can be a blessing in this world.” A few flowers on his grassy skull withered. “It can also be a curse. I wish you luck in your friendships, the field trip, and the Winnowing. We’re halfway to the end of the school year, Mr. Murray. Halfway to the Winnowing.” Shadowcroft patted his back. “You’ve come along away. You’re not dead, and so you can continue to do wonderful things!”

With that, the headmaster moved on, robes swishing around him as he vanished into the crowd.

Logan wondered at the strange encounter. The headmaster had wished Logan luck with his upcoming field trip. It was just a trip to Eritreus to see a real dungeon core in action. That couldn’t be that dangerous, right? Logan wasn’t sure, but in the end, he liked Shadowcroft, so he chalked it up to the headmaster’s eccentric nature. 

Marko came over with a cup of old coffee. “Did someone order coffee? Extra bacteria?”

Logan laughed and took the mug. He sipped and enjoyed the bitter spoils of percolator warfare.

The two stood shoulder to shoulder watching the party unfold in all its monstrous, otherworldly glory.

Marko sighed. “I love a party. Love those slug guys. They can keep a beat like no one’s business.”

Logan nodded. “I feel bad I didn’t get you guys any Forevergreen gifts.”

Marko knocked him playfully with an elbow. “Don’t worry. You surviving your guardian form evolution is a gift enough. You might not see it, but you’re giving Treacle hope, and you’ve given Inga focus. Remember how scattered she used to be?”

Logan laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

The two fell into an awkward silence. Logan sipped his bacteria coffee. Marko gulped wine from his goblet.

Finally, the satyr chuckled nervously. “Okay, so, you were awake last night when I got all mushy, huh?”

Logan nodded. “Yep. Totally awake. Heard every word.”

Another beat of even more awkwardness.

Marko didn’t know how to move forward, but Logan did. He leaned into his satyr friend. “It’s cool, Marko. We’re friends. I don’t need to know about your past. We’re in this together, and in the end, we’ll have each other’s backs.”

The satyr turned deadly serious. “This time, yeah, Logan, I’ll have your back. As long as I’m here, as long as I’m alive, you and me, man. You and me.”

They clinked their cups together.

“Esprit de corps,” Logan said with a happy sigh.

“What’s that?” Marko asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Inga and Treacle were dancing their way over, and Logan knew what that meant. He was going to have to shake his fungal groove thing. “The Terrible Twelfth. That’s esprit de corps.”

Keep Reading Here: Chapter Twenty-Three