Dungeon Core: Bugged Ascension

~Ruth (Once ‘Moor, now less).

I wake to pain again. Yet, even as so much of my mind and the body of my Voice aches, there is a comfort and simple joy in how quickly my Heroes have recovered. Forged of both sterner and yet also simpler hives, they were least affected by DNA’s grand working. And despite the days that have passed and the bedrest and healing I’ve received; I’ve begun to expect that the flaws of this body are too much for my reduced state to maintain without consequence.

There is enough of me, of who I could choose to be, to live solely as my Heroes. To become a pack like I was in Times Past. I don’t know how or why, but I feel the lenience of the System ever since my Godhood was torn from me. It would allow me to stay myself, and free me from the agonies of what my Voice has been reduced to.

Yet, I hold myself back.

Considering how deeply intwined our peoples have become, I’m nearly certain that Palace and Pantheon believe I have been killed in some heinous manner. And I do not know how they will react. But those unknowns are not enough to endure this new state of being, so all-encompassing is the pain that some future strife is insufficient to make me stay.

No. I stay for Moth’Her, my daughter. As I lay awake in the bed prepared for me at the Inn, I smile and accept this Challenge as a worthy payment for her life. When the knock sounds on my door sometime later I beckon them inside and mask my feelings. It wouldn’t do to let my son think less of me, even if my Name has changed with this ordeal.

“Alex was waiting to check up on you now that her reports to the guild are finished. The Council feels it would be best if you continued to at least attend its meetings, even if it has been decided that Ruth won’t have a vote, your Voice is still valued.”

I give him a weak smile and modulate my tone to play my part, “Those younglings want the thoughts of these old bones but without the kind of rash actions that got me holed up with the humans, eh?”

Fyer’Fleye just shakes his head, going along with the charade, “You were there when it was agreed that without a God, we would need to work alongside the Gestalt. Though our Heroes outnumber theirs, they have more experience dealing with the local spaces. And since we’re not going to be holding ourselves separate from them, we’ll need to take turns and properly register with their ‘Guild’ to make use of the Haunt.”

As he helps me to my feet, like the feeble old woman I’ve become in sensation, if not quite in appearance, “And how is that going? I recall seeing that cold one, Azure, making preparations with her team to head back when we arrived. If the guild seems willing to allow the Dungeon to still be delved, despite the potential for true death, registration could be easier or more difficult.”

Leading us down to sit at a table as breakfast is brought forth, “The Guildmaster was quite accommodating. They’ve told us there will be trials and tests to determine our relative strengths and what jobs we’d be eligible for in order to establish our quotas. But they were okay with you ‘stepping down’ into a supervisory role and serving as management and liaison for us.”

I nod along, “That’s a sharp one there. Don’t lie to him if you can help it. I don’t mean to trust him with our secrets, but we need to stick to what truths we care to reveal when dealing with him.”

I see his eyes shimmer and strobe with light as he agrees. That light brings to mind a far different set of ocular radiance in circumstances I would far rather not remember. My weakness and disguised pain an easy way to excuse the shudder than ripples through me at the thought of the Bloody Jester having any interest in our little stab at making a new home.

For all the faults of my decisions and their consequences, the Heroic Council has decided that our initial mission is still one to pursue. That being the observation and investigation into DNA being a Haunt that might aid the Mu’Reign with our population issue. While without my Godhood to support us, we’ll need to take a more political route for the establishment of a community, it may do us some good to be closer to other people.

Especially if my reactions are an indication of what being Gestalt will really mean for the Mu’Reign. The researchers are eager to dig into new data and learn more about who we now are, even if that leads us further away from who were once were. Whether it was prophetic, or merely is becoming self-fulfilling, the words of our Queen at the signing of the Treaty are brought to mind again as I sit in a humble tavern with my son, and he tends to my weakened self: ‘Humans won. Human form best.’

I waive aside his fussing and capture his attention, “Son? I need to symphonize again,” I hold up my hand to stall his protests, “I know far better than you what the condition of my body is. But my Heroes are still capable. The Haunt has its Sacred Protection. I’m not going to get better being carried in a litter, or lying in bed as healers pour over me.”

I lean down and whisper, leaning heavily on the buzzing and clicks of our inhuman Voices, “I am not a novelty to be studied. Nor an invalid to be shielded from hardships. I faced my defining Challenge in the War and came out strong for it. My name being made less will not stop me from becoming more again.”

I see the indecision on his face, the darting eyes trying to think up an argument, but I hold our gaze steady as he eventually calms his nervous energy, “You’ll have to join a team-“ This time it is he that holds up a finger to brook no interruption, “You will be part of a greater orchestra. One filled with our strongest Heroes, those most likely to make the climb to Godhood.”

Now he points that finger and me, accentuating each word, “You. Will. Not. Leave to me the need to explain to my sister when she wakes that your recklessness meant her mother failed to greet her after her ordeal. I will Not be having that discussion. Are we clear?”

The swelling of Pride I have at my son makes the smile that comes with it, free of pain, if only for a few moments, “Yes, son. I understand.”

Glaring at me for a moment longer to punctuate his seriousness, “Good. Now, I expected this somewhat, so let’s head over to the guild house and shuffle your registration around. We’re assigning teams at the moment, and with your commitment now known, it will change things up a bit.”

I smirk at his cheeky attitude and stand on my own. Taking great care and an unfortunate amount of effort to stop the agony from showing as I move ‘easily’ under my own power. I give him a bow and a sweeping gesture to have him lead the way, following along behind him even as I cannot spare even a single moment to flinch under the assault. A fine Scout and Mesmer indeed.

The registration ends up being surprisingly streamlined. Based on my prior brushes with politics, I suspect that there are favors, implicit or otherwise, being incurred for this ease. Regardless of my wariness, it makes sense for them to fast-track a population of Epics and treat us well this early on in a Sacre- Divine’s development.

Though, having to meet with the Guildmaster in person was an experience. An old legend, veteran of many wars as a matter of course for the human. Yet when he had me sit down with him and share a drink, we spoke not of my condition, though I saw recognition and confusion when I met with him again, “%Never thought I’d meet your kid, Ruth. Boy’s got moxie. Thankfully seems to have inherited brains from somewhere else though.%”

I chuckle as I enjoy the burn of the toxic beverage, “I suppose I never really spoke of home like that, did I?” I make a sweeping gesture at my body, “Twenty-three years. You’d think it would be enough to get used to it. Feels just as alien as the day it formed.”

He downs his shot and refills our tumblers, as he sets the bottle aside, he flexes his hand for a lost moment, “%Somethings never change. Once something becomes enough a part of you, not having it around anymore is like an ache in the soul. Marks like that don’t fade.%”

I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, “You’ve never opened up like this before… feel up to playing a dangerous game?”

He meets my eyes with a twinkle in his own, “%Answers or Alcohol? That’s an interesting proposal from someone sitting in your position. Sure. Ladies first.%”

I smirk, “Well, then. I’ll start us off easy. How long have you been here?”

He barks out a laugh, “%So, it’s like that, eh? Fine. I’ve headed up this little no-name town for seventeen years, one of the old founders invited me here to settle down after The War,%” he takes a sip of his drink, “%How about yourself. How long have you been a mother?%”

My eyes flit to him and then away. I take a large gulp from my glass and hold up a finger, “Not a pass, just courage. I guess, in keeping with your own answer, it’s been maybe eight years, or just a few weeks depending on how you look at it.”

He tops off both our glasses and grumbles an acknowledgement after he matched my draught with one of his, “%That’s rough.%”

I walk my fingers around the rim of my glass as I hum and think. I can already feel how my hive has begun to numb under the effects of the Godlike intoxicants, “Any family of your own?”

I see how his eyes widen for a moment before a pang flashes across his features. I almost want to call back my question, but he gives me the gesture to pause me and downs his drink, “%A brother. Far from here. Mom too. She got her rank much earlier than I did, so age hasn’t hit her as bad. While he wasn’t ever as skilled as I, his was an unmatched will. Made it through The War stronger than ever, while I gave up the blade.%”

Topping us off once more and the bottle getting low already “%Getting heavier. Though I notice your stamina is much reduced, so I suppose I’ll just come out and ask,%” he tips his glass towards me, “%Was it worth this?%”

I nurse the latest round but take the time to straighten myself up as I look at him, “Every. Breath. And more beyond,” before I polish off my last and hold my hand over the top as he just raises an eyebrow at me, “Last question. What happened to your blade?”

He refills his cup and drinks it down again, “%I gifted it to my brother, after the Treaty. I wasn’t supposed to be in that fight. But when War is called, a Soldier answers. I was stupid back then, impatient, reckless. Already getting old, and feeling myself slipping away, and figured that quelling a monster surge wouldn’t be a bad way to advance. Felt good about my progress too, right up till the signing.%”

He gestures at me, as I’m slouched on the table, “%First time I saw you like that and it turned my joy to ash. I had sworn not to raise my Saber against people after the last war I was in. The Treaty just showed me how brittle a promise that could be. So, I bequeathed it to someone who could make better use of it. And then… just sort of wandered around, and now I’m here.%”

I nod, “Now you’re here, and so am I. What a sight we make, a pair of broken warriors.”

He corks the bottle before bringing out a pair of tankards and fills them with a ladle from the rain bucket, “%Warriors are made to be broken. But there’s time aplenty yet for fixing, yeah? I may not look it, but there’s a saying I heard that resonates with me still: Get busy living, or get busy dying. And I gave up on the later nearly a half-century ago.%”

I smile, “Life doesn’t have to be a grand thing, even if the local dungeon seems intent to prove otherwise.”

As we rehydrate in the easy silence, “%I owe your people a debt,%” he swipes away my attempt at protest, “%More than that, I owe it to myself. A penance. I understand what your people are looking for out here, out in every outskirt’s town at least one of you watches over. I can slow down the paperwork here. Undersell it. Give life and Life a chance to grow beyond what some blighted noble that hasn’t even met War would try to contain.%”

I meet his solemn gaze, “Speeding up registration. Approving joint ventures with the ‘outsiders’ so they can meet their quota by helping empower the locals. Land prospecting, both near and far?”

He grins, “%Maybe he didn’t have to reach all that far for brains after all. But enough of this now. You already tapped out of AoA. Begone with you. See if you can manage the climb once more. I know I don’t have it in me anymore.%”

I stand up and shake his hand once more. As I exit the door, I turn back to him with a smirk and a shimmy as I notice his tracking gaze, “Don’t count yourself out just yet. I may have you beat on years, but there are some areas where I am woefully inexperienced. I could use an older, guiding hand to teach me.”

His gob smacked expression, a genuine and pure delight. The pearl of laughter I release as I close the door is free of the deep pain that even the strong drink managed only to dull. There is much still to learn about our peoples, even if DNA and Moth’Her manage to restore us to the heights of Times Past. We are a changed people.

While Advisor’s briefing on the study unfolding with the Gestalt’s Envoy had me put away my cloak, I suppose my eyes were still shut to the possibilities. It’s a strange thing. Being under this much pain, I shouldn’t have the will for frivolous thoughts like this, but it seems almost a balm to imagine.

It would appear, despite my protests to the contrary, that perhaps some documentation should be done on my experiences. Pain on its own isn’t a useful lesson. But the lessening of it… That isn’t something I should deny my brethren.