Reluctant Dungeon: Chapter One - Wyverns in the Window Box

Dollitrice Grandmeir sipped her favorite tea from her favorite cup and surveyed the sprawling garden outside the window of her hut. She was in a foul mood. The icon in the corner of her vision blinked an annoying red again. Damn this magic from the Heroes’ Realm, Dolli thought to herself and took another swig.

She selected the icon and brought the message into full view:

[Warning: Dungefication Imminent!]

Your personal renown with the Heroes of this land has reached a critical low [5/1000]! This combined with the decreasing citizen count of your zone, [Little Crossroads], will cause the area to transform into a dungeon. Dungefication will begin when the citizen count drops to [125]. Dungefication will take approximately [2] minutes to complete. Any inhabitant still within the zone parameters when Dungefication is finished will be transformed into monsters. As Regnant of the zone, you will become the Dungeon Overlord upon transformation.

To prevent this process, increase your renown by offering Hero Quests, or increase the population in your zone.

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“Hero Quests,” Dolli mumbled into her teacup, then took a sip. She panned over to the menu that let her call heroes to her aid… more like to her ruin. The single, long overdue quest looked back at her with annoying urgency. “Complete me!” the quest—Plague in the Crossroads—seemed to yell with silent blinks of gold light.

Dolli’s lip curled back as she stared at the heroes’ names who awaited payment for mass murder. Keegan, Gamergrl12, and Jelly-d. Those stubborn three heroes had refused to drop the quest and move on. They’d come screaming at Dolli for a few years, but had eventually forgotten about her, and forgotten the old quest in their log. Dolli couldn’t cancel it, since the Hero Magic deemed it was “complete.” The only way it would get out of her menu was if the three stubborn heroes dropped it, or she paid them.

Dolli would rather die than pay them for what they did to the people of Little Crossroads.

She frowned and waved her hand through the screen. It disappeared, leaving her with the view of her beautiful garden. A shadow passed overhead, drowning her little forest home in darkness before receding as quickly as it came. She wished her sour mood would retreat as fast, and those stubborn townsfolk, too, but they were dug in like ticks.

So what if Dolli would transform into a monster in a dungeon, at least she’d finally have some peace! Between their hostile treatment of her and the local Blacksmith, Greg, challenging her every year for the “Seat of Power”, or the random visits from Keegan—the angriest of the three murderous heroes—Dolli had had enough. She wanted nothing more to do with heroes, challenges for the throne, or angry villagers throwing mud wherever she went.

Dolli wanted to live out the rest of whatever life she had left in the cottage she’d built so many years ago. Letting the village transform into a dungeon sounded like a good way to go about it. The joke was apparently on her, since none of the villagers believed it would happen.

Greg, the self-declared ruler of Little Crossroad, had told all the people Dolli was lying.

Dolli scrunched up her face and mimicked Greg, “That witch’s gonna sell off the land to some heroes arse when we’re all off it, make a fortune of the village we left behind!” Dolli harrumphed and took another sip of her tea. “So what if that’s my plan, at least I won’t be dead, and they won’t be monsters.”

The seat of power was tied to Dolli’s soul by the cruel magics the heroes brought with them when they burst into their world, Hafheim, the land of a thousand oceans. The only way it could be passed on was if Dolli had a child­—fat chance—if she was murdered, or if all the inhabitants moved on, or at least, that’s what she’d heard. Even more cruelly, Dolli couldn’t concede the challenge for the throne. If anyone challenged her, she had to fight until they conceded, or she died. She couldn’t ask for mercy, as Greg had… and she’d always spared him.

Why?

Every year he’d come back to kill her, and every time she’d let him go with his life, and his shame. Greg improved little year over year, but he was trying. Maybe she wanted him to surprise her and show up good enough for once…

Dolli smirked and sipped her tea. “Not this year though, the pumpkins are coming in well.”

The icon in the corner of her vision flared to life, and automatically opened before her.

[Population Update]

Another citizen has departed Little Crossroad, dropping your population to 125.

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[The Dungefication Process Has Begun!]

You have [2] hours [59] minutes to evacuate the town. If the Citizen Count drops to 0, the Seat of Power will crumble, deactivating this zone and killing the Bound Regnant.

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Well, that was an interesting complication. It was Dolli’s understanding that if the village was empty the title could pass on or be sold, but like all information bought from heroes, it was once again just a lie. Dolli assumed whichever hero had told her this fable would swoop in to claim the land and build a new seat of power as soon as hers was dismantled.

But that wasn’t the complication that upset her. Dolli had been hoping the villagers would’ve pulled their heads from their rears and packed up. She knew there were still two children in town, along with a few broken families left childless from the plague. She didn’t want any of them turning into grotesque creatures, forced to battle heroes day in and day out. She had to at least try to get the families to leave.

Dolli sighed and finished her tea in one, big gulp. She went for her cloak when another shadow zipped across the garden. Dolli scowled curiously, grabbing her walking staff instead. One shadow got a pass, two meant they were circling…

She moved through the garden door and looked up to the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, but there was a blot over the sun—two blots.

The grey-scaled wyverns pumped their wings furiously as they descended at landing speeds. Their six-inch rending claws dug into the dirt of her garden when the dropped, sending spurts of pumpkin guts across the yard. She feared what that claw might do to her own gut, if she wasn’t careful.

Dolli straightened and gripped her staff tighter. “Welcome to my Seat of Power. The property will soon be for sale—”

“We do not come to buy,” the male, clearly marked with red along his grey snout, snarled at Dolli.

Dolli cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not in the mood for dying or killing, so you better just move along.”

The male looked to his mate. “I promised you a powerful roost.”

The female, nearly five full feet longer than him with radian opal spots dotting her sides, hissed. “Claim it for me.”

The red-snouted wyvern pinned its gaze on Dolli, and suddenly she was grateful for her yearly practice with Greg. The challenge popup appeared in her vision with a countdown from five. When the notification disappeared, the battle would begin.

Dolli strained her eyes to see around the obstruction in her view. The wyvern’s claws were nestled right in her pumpkin patch, and this little love bird didn’t know who he was dealing with. She checked her Spark pool, what she’d use to cast magic, and grimaced. She’d wasted precious magical abilities on boiling water for her tea and was now down to only 500 Spark. If only she’d known she would’ve been having company today.

The popup vanished and Dolli spent 30 Spark to summon the [Anima] spell. Yellow mist materialized over the garden and the magic of the potions flowing through the vines of the pumpkins activated in a blink. The plants came alive at her command and roped themselves around the wyvern. It struggled against the strong pull of the pumpkin patch with a glint of surprise that made Dolli grin.

“Concede and I won’t kill you—"

A wild screech ripped through the air and distorted Dolli’s vision. She winced against the pain, losing concentration on the vines as her health bar dipped to ninety percent in the corner of her vision. She’d gotten cocky from all that practice with Greg and forgotten what kind of powerful creatures lurked in the world.

The wyvern pumped its wings and ripped free from the vine’s hold. Dolli raised her staff activating [Voxen Shield] around herself and half her cottage. Blue light sprouted from the top of her staff and blanketed her in a shimmering wave that vibrated the air. The beast ripped at the magics, destroying the Spark that held it together with every swipe. Her pool was down to 350 and dropping by 10 with every swipe the creature made. This wasn’t a winning strategy.

Dolli stepped back until she crossed the threshold into the cabin—the throne room. She tried to open the Regnant Powers menu, to activate her traps, but a notification bombarded her vision instead.

[Dueling for the Throne]

You cannot take advantage of Throne Room benefits while you are in a duel!

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Drat! How had Dolli forgotten that simple rule?

She dismissed the notification and reached for the nearest flask on her counter. She’d been brewing up a strong pest repellant that seemed quite effective against Wendigo, so perhaps the wyverns wouldn’t enjoy it.

Dolli hurled the glass through her shield. It shattered against the wyverns face and the creature dropped back with a scream. Dolli deactivated the shield and ran for her cloak on the wall. The fabric folded around her like a blanket of ice, dropping her into the shadows.

The wyvern roared and smashed his way through the back door of the cabin. Pink fluid dripped down his snarling maw as his head snaked through her home.

“I know you’re still in here, witch,” the wyvern snarled.

Dolli held her breath and she inched toward the portal stone she’d left on the table next to her rocking chair.

Air whistled through the slits on the wyverns blood-colored snout. “I smell your fear.”

He also smelled bear urine and nightshade blossom, which was undoubtedly saving her life right now. She slid her foot across the dusty wood floor stretching, reaching, with her left hand.

Creeeeak.

The beast smiled. “There you are.”

Dolli leaped and the wyvern lunged, but his teeth chomped down off target. The creature’s maw snapped tight around Dolli’s staff, yanking it from her grasp just as her hand touched the portal stone.

Dolli tumbled into the underbrush two miles west of her home. She came to a stop with a heavy smack against the base of a tree, the air pushing out of her lungs. Pain needled through her chest, and she gasped for breath. Another agony stabbed from her skull, and warm blood tricked down her temple.

A notification popped up in her double-vision, letting her know she had a mild concussion. As if Dolli couldn’t feel the concussion. She gritted her teeth through the pain, and sat up. After another minute, she wobbled to her feet.

She grabbed the nearest stick and started poking around the dirt until she found the soft spot—her stash. The cover came away easily with a swirl of purple magic, revealing food, restoration potions, clothing, and money. She’d never wanted to leave her home in the mountains, but if it meant surviving, she would do it. She could always build another cottage in another forest.

Dolli gave another swirl of her hand to clear the dirt from her belongings and cringed when a negative buzz filled her ear instead. She was completely out of Spark, and regeneration could only happen when she was relaxing.

With a sigh, she plopped down in front of her stash. Slowly, she sorted her items and watched her Spark bar climb. When it had refilled by a bit over half, the Dungefication timer flared bright red in the corner of her vision: [1:30:00].

With every ticking of that clock Dolli’s heart grew heavier. If she left those people to become dungeon monsters in a dungeon she’d abandoned—what would happen? Would the wyverns take over? She couldn’t condemn those people to a fate so cruel. She had to get them out, as many as she could.

The village was at least an hour walk from where she was, leaving them just thirty minutes to pack up and go. They wouldn’t be able to take much with them, but they would survive.

With that, Dolli steeled her nerves and found a good walking stick. It wasn’t her staff, not my a measure and a half, but it would serve as a Spark conduit all the same. She scrawled in the dirt with the end of the stick, channeling Spark through it as she cast [Wayfinder].

The dirt came to life with green light in two rings. An arrow appeared on the outer ring, pointing the way to the village. The inner ring shrank until three hashmarks were between it, and the point on the outer ring. Drat, it was farther than she’d remembered.

The furious shriek of a distant wyvern drew Dolli’s eyes skyward. She pulled her cloak up around her head, slipping into the shadows and getting on her way.