Dungeon:

:ETHER[INTRA]:

:ETHER[INTER]:

Well okay then.

The little green gem was confused, to say the least. The "invader" was much more than it initially thought. As it watched its entrance slowly tunnel its way upwards, the strange loops and whorls of golden Ether left by the finger wrapped around themselves in an ever-unfurling fractal of impossible complexity.

Huh.

~~~Objectives~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Create Floor[1] CORE ROOM [✔] DEFENSE LAYER [✔] ENTRANCE [%ERROR%] BOSS Begin Next Floor

...?

~~~Objectives~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Create Floor[1] CORE ROOM [✔] DEFENSE LAYER ROOMS [✔] TUNNELS [✔] CREATURES [✔] ENHANCEMENTS~[✔] BOSS ENTRANCE [✔] Begin Next Floor

Okay...?

The strange new option was simple enough to use. It wanted a creature...

Seems more like an extra Enhancement than anything. But I should choose... the last one? Which last one? The last one away from me? The last one I made? The last one... from the Entrance. Ah.

So... was something supposed to happen?

The Dungeon had chosen the outlier Half-Ogre. It was already different, so why not? If something was supposed to happen, however, then it wasn't happening yet. It was still the same Novice Half-Ogre with its quarterstaff.

URGK

While looking over its new "boss," the Entrance burst through the last of the rock separating it from the outside world. The sudden influx of overworked mana was momentarily crippling, tearing through the Dungeon and washing away the previous serenity brought about by its unmoving Ether. The gem had not even known what taste was moments ago, and now it knew it hated stale air more than anything.

Luckily enough for the Dungeon, the sensation slowly ebbed away as the Ether impressed throughout its halls and rooms began to tear apart the flood of aspected mana. As affinities began to be stripped away, the golden ring of Ether permeating the Entrance moved to carefully regulate the outpouring of newly revitalized energy. Every trace of divinity was held within the confines of the Dungeon Stone, and the unaspected mana was released slowly, slow enough to hopefully evade the detection of anyone paying attention...

Uuuuuuggggggghhhhh

What this meant for the young core was that the overwhelming amount of air mana which had inundated its senses was quickly replaced with something much more palatable. Then, since the mana intake Entrance was being crimped by Mystiq's precautions, it slowly rose from its stupor as its rooms lost their air mana stink.

Whhhhyyyyy?

It recovered to quite the sight, all three of its Half-Ogres had placed their weapons down beside them.

I get it already, okay! You didn't have to kneel too...

Indeed, each of the Half-Ogres were bowed, kneeling before the finger as it crawled its way past them.

Mystiq:

At least some of these creatures can show proper deference.

Mystiq was not exactly thrilled after crawling her way across the entirety of this youngling's first floor, but she was still pleased nonetheless with her progress. Already, the amount of ambient unaspected mana had risen enough to begin the next phase.

Squirreling her way into the core room, Mystiq put the finishing touches on her Reconstruction system. Another stream of golden Ether erupted around the green gem, recursively refurling its grand loops ever inwards. Slowly, ever so slowly, the ambient mana in the core room was dragged along for the ride.

A miniscule drop of Ether slowly condensed upon the core's surface before being absorbed into its many facets.

And through those facets, unto me...

~RECONSTRUCTION~>>

RUNNING START SEQUENCE:

...

%ERROR%

...

%ERROR%

>> TWO ERRORS THROWN <<

... SUCCESS

~WORSHIPER~MANAGEMENT~>>

CONSTRUCTS

1.2

Dungeon:

HOLY HOLY WOOWOWOWOOOWWW HOLY WOWOWOOW

The core was feeling pretty good all of the sudden. All it took was a divinely-granted Ether infusion.

Fortunately for the plot, this additional outpouring of emotion was also short-lived. Interrupting its insane joy was a notification:

~EMERGENCY~>>

YOU ARE CHOSEN FOR FUTURE RECONSTRUCTION.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

YOUR CREATOR: MYSTIQ

BLESSES YOU IN HOPES OF OUR CONTINUED SURVIVAL

Oh. Oh!

While a divine finger appearing shortly after the previous message may have clued in a savvy fellow as to its origin, this little core was not even a floor old at the time. With the aid of Etherics this new message was enough to finally inform the Dungeon of its "invader's" identity.

Mystiq? Sure!

But what was godhood to a rock, however sentient the young mind might be? It passed by this divine revelation with the same ease as all of its previous notifications.

Onwards!

~~~Objectives~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Create Floor[1] [✔] Begin Next Floor RECONSTRUCT[*----]

Alright! If it feels like that every time...

<<~RECONSTRUCTION~>>

RUNNING START SEQUENCE:

... FAILURE

EXIT CODE 1: NOT ENOUGH FLOORS

Oh. Well then I know what I'm doing!

<<~FLOOR[2]:START~>>

And yet, despite the eagerness of the Dungeon, nothing seemed to happen.

The core grew panicked rather quickly. Without more floors, how will it ever feel the superjoy again? How would it do anything? How could it gain any new-

Mystiq:

Oops. Note to self: reverse paradigm on new Standard Entry Logic for future floor construction...

I don't care how strong the core is, there's no need to have it plummet down a featureless shaft every floor...

???:

The BrokeKnife Bandits were not a creative bunch.

If the average citizen of the Kurgid Barony, which the bandits called home, were to enquire about their name, the first thing outta their mouth would be: "What the hell is 'enquire?'"

They called themselves BrokeKnife because they were broke and had knives. Simple as that.

As one might imagine, a can-do attitude and a sharp blade can only get you so far. Without a brain behind the organization, it was only a matter of time before they crossed the wrong folk. And despite their initial promise, a camp of over 50 bandits is pretty hard to maintain after all, stealing from the Baron's treasury was not the wisest of decisions.

50 bandits could not survive against a Baron's wrath, or rather a Baron's military.

Thus, they fled. The Kurgid Barony was large, and while fully explored it was not fully settled.

The BrokeKnife Bandits carved out a hidey-hole of their own near a major trade route, and when the occasional plucky young merchant naively thought they could save a bit of coin by not hiring guards... Well.

Then the BrokeKnife Bandits did what they did best.

On this particular evening the crew of over 50, having recruited since their escape into the countryside, was just settling down after a successful raid and subsequent party. The stolen wine wasn't going to drink itself after all!

The few who were forced to remain on watch still partook, despite their many promises. And so when a light rumble near their camp sounded out, they thought nothing of it.

The BrokeKnife Bandits had initially set up their camp beneath a small cliff. The outcropping of rock sat alone in a sea of trees, not even half a day's travel from a nearby road if one knew where to look.

That night, as many of these Bandits collapsed into a drunken stupor, a sizable hole carved its way out of the top of this cliff.

As the scent of blood, death, and mana wafted its way out of the hole, a curious fox approached. Hesitant...

But ravenous.