Dungeon Deposed

by William D. Arand

  Cracking the seal and popping it open, Adele upended the contents. Out slid a gold ring, unadorned and plain.

  “And there it is. She’s on her way,” Adele said, pocketing the ring. “She’ll be here in a week or so. Suppose I need to sober up and get my clothes laundered. Was fun while it lasted.”

  The queen’s actually coming?

  Here?

  Chapter 10 - Cold Shower -

  “A golden ring?” Wynne asked, sitting on the back of a chair in front of him.

  “I assume it had some meaning. No idea, doesn’t really matter though. Adele is… Adele, and I don’t think she’d lie to me in any way, shape, or form,” Ryker said. “She wouldn’t even skirt the truth or twist things the way Claire might.”

  Wynne wrinkled her nose and slowly began to kick her legs back and forth.

  “How do we prepare for a royal visitor? I mean, what do we need to do? Will we be hosting her? Will she be staying at the Royal Guard garrison? Are we expected to provide her with anything?” Wynne asked, rattling off the questions one after another.

  “I… didn’t ask. I should have. Though… Adele probably wouldn’t know. And if she did, she probably wouldn’t care. Better off asking Claire,” Ryker said, scratching at his jaw.

  “I’ll ask her. You get a dense look when you talk to her, or stare at her boobs,” Wynne said with annoyance clearly written in her tone. “As for your thoughts about adding another wing, and the quest walkers, that’s fine. If anything, it might help the economy in the long run. It’s hard to imagine children running quests for a copper, but that’s what’d happen.”

  Ryker held up his hands in front of himself. “Okay? I mean, I don’t see how it’s such a big deal. I’m going from the logical extension, aren’t I? It’s not as if I summoned the dark lord of the north to see us in person.”

  “Yes… you are. And that’s half of the problem. Dungeons aren’t logical,” Wynne said, crossing her arms in front of herself.

  “If you don’t think it’s a good idea, I won’t do it,” Ryker said, trying to placate her. He’d already pissed her off enough this month.

  “No… it’s fine. I’m just frustrated. This is all so complicated now. It was supposed to be a dungeon we could use to get our revenge and you’re turning it into a story,” Wynne said, letting her arms drop.

  “Yeah, but it’s fun. And it’s a good story so far.”

  “You don’t have to get defensive, and yes, it is. I’m just… adapting slowly. I’ll get there,” Wynne said. Then vanished in the blink of an eye.

  Need to go easy on her for a bit. Working her a bit too hard there, aren’t I?

  I wonder if her revenge is what she wanted or if she’s getting bored.

  Ryker wasn’t sure what he’d feel once he’d scooped Rob’s brains out of his skull and used it as a toilet.

  Immediately he shied away from the very thought of what he’d do once his vengeance was complete. Too much time, effort, and energy had been spent to get to this point to even dwell on what would happen after.

  Instead, he got up and went into his basement and locked himself in.

  Most everyone left him alone on his hilltop farm. No one wanted to go bother the lone dungeon owner. It had only taken a couple of trespassers losing fingers for their crimes. Courtesy of the Royal Guard. Everyone knew which way the wind blew, and that staying on Ryker’s good side was the best way to not have problems with the Royal Guard, or the City Guard.

  Edwin had outdone himself and those guardsmen weren’t just up and running, but actively patrolling, keeping the peace, and even catching criminals. The enterprising man had set up a gate guard on the designated portal entry area and took great delight in capturing criminals as they arrived.

  Sitting down in a comfortable chair he’d purchased, Ryker leaned back and let his mind start drifting down towards the dungeon beneath him.

  A group of young adventurers were slowly clearing their way through the outskirts. Another group was working their way through Hob city.

  Huh. I guess they broke it into two different parts. I should expand the Outskirts a bit more then. Give them some more playtime there while the other group clears out the city.

  In the Gnoll camp a band of experienced guild members were actively working to kill the entire camp. Apparently they wanted to clear the whole damn thing.

  Before their time ran out of course.

  With so many people wanting to run the dungeon, time limits had been placed. It had been a simple spell Wynne had thrown together that would let people know when their turn was over.

  A spell for each wing.

  As for the limit, it was more than enough to clear whatever wing they were in, provided their pauses and breaks were brief.

  There were a few grumbles at first, until everyone realized how much more quickly they were getting turns.

  In the gladiator cubes, all hell was breaking loose. Every single solo room was full, and had lines.

  Even the party battle rooms were engaged.

  And thus the need for another wing. More wings, more people.

  More deaths.

  More skills, more memories, more abilities.

  Ryker wondered briefly at his strange obsession with collecting memories, skills, and abilities from the dead. After a moment, he decided it was like collecting seashells, or stones.

  Settling his mind, Ryker hunted around for a spot that he could put down the “kingdom” encampment, as he was calling it.

  Checking the location of the entryway, he found he could actually put the new wing down rather close to it. In fact it would only require a single staircase behind the quest giver.

  Shifting the stone, creating the greeter, and moving the whole thing up and out didn’t take much time at all.

  Except now the whole thing was outside. Both the buildings and the encampment.

  Above ground.

  It technically wasn’t in the dungeon. The whole thing would be visible from Dungeon, in fact.

  Ryker hesitated for a minute. It was still daylight out. Anyone who happened to look upward would see the whole mountain.

  “Whatever. Fuck them, fuck me, fuck everyone,” Ryker said. He was done wasting time.

  Ryker set to work building up the human encampment. Building it out as if it were a military camp. He’d seen the layout a few times when they’d been doing field exercises in the guild.

  He’d have to wait and ask Edwin what he thought about it later.

  Finishing with the foundation, Ryker set down the walls, towers, and even the front gate. Deciding to make it more different than it already was, he slapped down a road from the main boulevard off the hotel, all the way up.

  Go big or go home.

  Calling up several of the memory cores in their entirety, Ryker began to rapidly search them all for personalities that matched military types.

  Military types and trainers.

  Anything he could dredge up that had a rigid or locked mentality.

  He put them in all throughout the military base. Juggling memories and personalities around, he worked to build each and every blueprint into an individual. He had more than enough material to do so, and honestly, Ryker felt like building out generic people would be boring.

  Boring to him at least.

  Having set up an entire camp of individuals, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something.

  Going through what he’d made, he found everything exactly as he wanted it to be.

  Frowning, he sat there and stared down at the compound beneath him.

  It’s just another wing though. It’s at a level where even masters would be challenged but… it’s no different. It’s just… another wing.

  Grumbling, Ryker stared at the firing range for ranged weapons. Idly he poked at the blueprint of the woman he’d put there.

  Slowly, he started to modify her personality into that of someone who would remain here and offer training in archery and shooting a crossbow. The m
emories of teaching were there amongst the many dead, he only had to fish them all out.

  Pausing, Ryker stared at the blueprint again.

  Much of the training she’d be offering had been imprinted from countless different backgrounds. Some with secret traditions and training methods.

  All distilled down into a simple skill that could be taught.

  “Well, that won’t work, now will it,” Ryker said, wrinkling his nose. “Wynne would beat me senseless. What if it’s a token based system? Similar to what we were thinking about for a token based store.”

  Quickly, Ryker added a simple token requirement for each skill. A simple trade of tokens to learn said ability.

  Then going back through the other wings, he began adding the tokens to specific spawns. He tied the spawns to the token and made them only possible to appear, instead of a given. The blueprint now had the chance to simply fizzle out, instead of making the construct.

  On top of that, he began adding them as rewards to the quests.

  “We’ll need to balance that later if it becomes too much,” he said to himself. “We’ll need to talk to Wynne about it first though.”

  Disabling all the attached token blueprints for now, he looked out across his dungeon with his senses.

  “But is this good enough I think it is. Maybe. But is it… no, that’s not enough…”

  Settling in, Ryker began constructing a trainer for each and every type of “class” he could think of. He had to lump some in and change the names around, since a footman who taught hand to hand fighting wouldn’t call a strike ‘tiger’s paw’, now would he.

  Blowing out a sigh, Ryker sat back and reinspected the outpost. The trainers, the quests, and even the rare spawns were now all in.

  Yet it still wasn’t enough for him. He wanted it to be unique.

  Truly unique.

  Even unique for his own dungeon.

  “Didn’t we want to put in quest givers that would walk the town? Let’s do that then,” Ryker murmured.

  Floating over to the front gate he began to build what he referred to in his mind as dungeon walkers.

  He set the blueprints for them down on the inside of the gate and gave them a specified limit. They couldn’t leave the roads, and had to remain within Dungeon, or the dungeon.

  Creating ten of them, he began to set the level for the quests to be varied. Dependent on the location in the city, and even time of day, the quests ran the gamut from escort, to finding something, to killing a rat or some such. Even delivering missives to another dungeon walker.

  Most of them had a skill and ability level to the first or second wing. Enough to defend themselves if someone decided to attack them, but nothing insurmountable.

  Scratching at his jaw, Ryker felt like it was definitely unique now.

  He didn’t feel done though. He wanted to add more.

  To create. Breathe life into his dungeon.

  The only thing he needed to do today was farm otherwise.

  That or sit in the inn and drink. Probably get antagonized by Adele.

  Or Claire finds me and drags me off for some type of political meet and greet.

  Shuddering at the very idea of being dragged into another meeting he pondered the encampment. Ryker wondered what else an encampment in foreign territory would have.

  Then it came to him: an emissary, and a few ambassadors.

  Throw in a detail of guards, and it would be the perfect high end “boss” if someone decided they wanted to have a go at something truly frightening for the ending of the beginner ranks.

  But why? Why would they even want to? It’s a lot to risk just to say they did it.

  Tapping his chin with a finger, Ryker blinked and then realized it only needed a reward. One that even a master would want.

  When the dark church had been slaughtered, amongst their number had been someone who actually understood enchantments. They didn’t have the ability to make them, not enough magical prowess, but they knew how to read them. Repair them.

  Ryker had the power to do it, though.

  Tapping back into the emissary and the ambassadors, Ryker began crafting enchanted weapons that would spawn in with them.

  Deciding to take it a step further, he made sure to provide a weapon for every type of training that the encampment provided. Setting up the pattern for each weapon, he built the enchantments as simple yet useful things.

  Durability.

  Sharpness.

  Resistance to magic.

  Piercing ability.

  Then Ryker froze.

  There’s no reason not to offer similar enchantments at the lower levels. Is there? If I just tone down the strength of it, it’d be fine. Wouldn’t it?

  Abandoning his project in the encampment, Ryker fled down into the first wing.

  He began outfitting certain creatures with minor enchantments for their armor and weaponry. Nothing huge, but small things that would be a step above what normal equipment would be.

  Moving through the outskirts and right through Hob City he put in the enchanted items. Having some fun with it, he made a couple that people might consider cursed. A pair of boots that squeaked loudly, but allowed someone much better traction was his favorite. The bright pink helmet that granted people a small boost to their bravery was his second place. He could imagine a group of people wondering if it was worth squeaking everywhere or walking around in the helmet.

  “What are you doing?” asked Wynne, startling him out of his reverie.

  “Nothing, nothing. I was adding rewards. Making sure people wanted to get into the dungeons,” Ryker said, and then swiftly went back to the encampment. “What do you think? I’m all done here. I think it turned out rather well.”

  “Let me see,” Wynne chirped happily. Her presence vanished off into the sprawling military layout immediately.

  Ryker held his breath, mildly hopeful that he’d managed to derail her interest in what he was working on with the enchantments.

  “Are these the walkers?” Wynne asked from behind the wall.

  “I assume that’s what you’re looking at, yeah,” Ryker said, floating over to check. “Yeah, that’s them.”

  “Turn ‘em on. Everyone down in Dungeon is already wondering what is going on up here. You might as well send them out. It might calm them down a bit,” Wynne said.

  “I figured. Someone was bound to notice. I mean, building an entire military base up here on the side of the hill,” Ryker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Yeah, they noticed. I finished my chat with Claire when everyone started standing in the street staring up at the hill. They’re contemplating what to do. The adventurers guild is holding an emergency conference. I imagine someone will eventually come to talk to you about it. That might be a while though, not much you can do for this. Well, in their eyes at least,” Wynne said with a snicker.

  “You did? With Claire, that is. What’d she say?” Ryker asked, opening his eyes and disconnecting the spells.

  Wynne was sitting on the ground in front of him. Her eyes flicked open and she shot up to her feet.

  “She said we don’t have to worry about anything. But that it would be wise for you to dress well, be presentable, and make yourself available for an audience with the queen. Nothing out of the ordinary, really,” Wynne said, waving a hand back and forth dismissively.

  “That’s good at least,” Ryker said with a grin.

  “It would be, if she wasn’t arriving tonight. Apparently, something changed on her way over. Claire and Adele got an emergency dispatch an hour or two ago. Her timeline was updated, but the messengers were waylaid on their way here. Which is another problem in and of itself but…”

  Ryker blinked slowly.

  “Tonight?” he asked.

  “In a few hours. You can see the cloud of dust trailing up in the distance. They’re not making great speed, but more than enough to get here an hour before true nightfall,” Wynne confirmed.

  “Ah. I see. Ye
s. And… you didn’t think it would be good to lead with that information?” Ryker asked, opening and closing his hands.

  For whatever reason, he felt a lot of irrational anger bubbling up from the depths of his guts. Surprises could be a problem for him at times. He knew it. Knew his anger sometimes spiraled out of control.

  He only ever realized after though.

  “Not really. It wouldn’t have changed anything for you. I mean, is there anything you would do differently if I had told you three minutes ago?” Wynne asked, fluttering up above him and out of reach.

  “I’m going to catch you, pull your wings off, and then… and then I don’t know. Maybe pull your guts out and use them as a condom to fuck your own corpse with. And after that, I’ll see if Adele is feeling feisty. Ya like that? I’m going to murder you, and use you to fuck yourself!” Ryker said, jumping up and swatting at her.

  “Have to catch me first,” Wynne said and vanished out of existence.

  “Oh my gods I’m going to kill you. Get back here, Wynne, and help me pick something out to wear, damn it. Damn you. Damn everyone.”

  “Nope! You said you were going to use me to sleep with Adele. Maybe you should ask her for help. Besides, you could do better than her,” came Wynne’s voice from nowhere.

  “You tiny monster! Okay, I’m calm. I’ll be calm. I am calm. You can come out, and help me, because if you don’t, I’ll let your little Fairy army go free. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

  “Promise? You won’t hurt me?” Wynne asked, her voice coming closer. “You have such extreme swings in emotion that I worry for your mental health sometimes.”

  “Yes. I promise I won’t hurt you,” Ryker said through gritted teeth. He felt like a raging, shaking ball of anger.

  An irrational one, but one all the same.

  One that needed to be quenched in the blood of someone.

  “Good! Now, you should wear the blue outfit that Claire bought for you. It’s in your wardrobe on the far right side. Black pants with it though. It won’t match when you look at them separately, but they will when you wear them together,” said Wynne, not uncloaking herself.