The challenge lock glitters as you roll is between your fingers – it's almost exactly like the claimant crystal, an octagonally cut gem a few inches across. Where the claimant crystal was a bloody red however, the challenge lock was a honey amber. The torchlight shines across it's surfaces, captivating you as it sparkles.
The menu above it also occupies a portion of your attention.
Like many of the options for your lair, the drop down menu is myriad. Riddles, passwords and keys are the most basic, with additional options for spawning clues, for changing the password or which key is needed... the only limit you can see is that heroes have to be able to have a fair chance to pass. If a password is needed, there will be clues spawned around if you don't designate them yourself. If it's a key that's needed, the door won't close if the key is beyond it.
Why would it be anything else? It's a hero's world, after all.
But that still leaves you with a great deal of leeway, and you don't intend to make it easy for them.
Firstly, you go for a key. While a riddle would be amusing, it also would not be particularly secure. Having the riddle's answer be 'one thousand gold' would make you a lot of money... if people bothered to pay. Anything that might get you resources you would have trouble gathering yourself is far more likely to gain you nothing – and while that would make the second floor very defensible, it doesn't feel right to use the challenge lock as a glorified toll booth. Especially because you have now named everyone, and Amanda has been so excited about being the floor boss of the second floor. A password runs into problems the other way – the fact that you need to have fair clues scattered around means that any heroes who attempted to clear out your first floor, as most would, would find the password with little difficulty. This could be an issue with stealth focused heroes able to slip past and into your second floor without challenge.
Even if every hero you've met so far who was some variant of the rogue class has acted almost exactly like a fighter in tighter armour. Some day you might fight a smart one.
You shake your head, clearing it of the foibles of adventurers, and refocus on the menu.
A key is the right balance of security and functionality, you think. Although you're not planning on anything as plebeian as a literal key. Not with all the options available to you.
First, you scrap the pre-generated design – an ornate but relatively simple key with a gem in the handle, and an ethereally floating padlock. It looked good, but it doesn't fit what you want. You want something that pays some homage to where you came from, what shaped this lair you call home.
The lock reshapes under your control and the power of the menu, rough shapes forming, refining as the system understands your intent, till a statue stands in wireframe before you. A kobold, standing proud, with one arm outstretched, palm up. It's other hand goes up onto it's shoulder, where it supports a small goblin child. The statues are life size, which will force most adventurers into a half stoop – nearly a bow, to unlock your door. Penance for the death and suffering they've caused, if you're feeling poetic – petty spite if you're being honest.
The statue fits perfectly in the pillar you placed in the final room of the first floor, behind the small golden plaque you placed there so long ago.
The doorway itself you just make from stone blocks, continuing the pattern on the walls, until you're sure it will be indistinguishable from the wall around it.
The key takes shape next. A simple sphere of crystal three inches across, placed in the kobold's hand, will cause the stone wall to fold away and reveal the stairs up. You colour it the same honey amber as the challenge lock.
Then you split the ball in three.
The strange magic of the challenge lock gives you a lot of freedom – to the point that you can recolour the crystal segments individually, and still have them shift back to the golden yellow when they're brought together. One piece is turned into a bloody ruby, one a glittering emerald, and the final piece is turned into a brilliant sapphire. The ruby is placed into a hard leather arm band, and you designate it to Feathers. The Emerald gets set into a delicate silver tiara, and assigned to Mercy. The sapphire is turned into a small amulet, and you give it to Sapphire.
Lets seem some asshole steal this one, you growl to yourself, still smarting over the hero who stole Sapphire's original namesake gem. The challenge lock key piece will always return to her.
With that all set, and the material costs taken care of by the challenge lock itself, you take a moment to double check your designs and then confirm your choices.
There's no fanfare, or sparkle, or blueprint. One moment you're stood in front of a pillar of stone, the next in front of a statue.
You incline your head towards it, and close your eyes.
Your reverie is broken some minutes later by soft footsteps.
“You make it very hard to stay mad at you, sir.”
You open your eyes to see Sapphire. One hand is fiddling with the gemstone around her neck. Her eyes look wet. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.
You know, at some point I'm going to run out of excuses for my slow writing – my fingers are fucked up at the moment, joint pain and stiffness. I've got a blood test in a few days to hopefully start getting it looked at, but I have a feeling it's because I hold my mouse wrong. Either way, it makes writing kinda painful at the mo, so I apologise for the slightly shorter chapters.
A huge thank you to my patreons Spockk Kirkk, Abysslsniper, Tyrant615, Dakkanor, Jakelandiar, Roman, TheDrTelos, RD, Bakerdea, Hemlock, Baby Bird and Torish12. A special thank you to Spokk Kirkk who is paying more than they need to, which is one of the most incredible feelings. A very special thank you to Roman for being insane and updating their pledge to a truly silly amount.
The challenge lock glitters as you roll is between your fingers – it's almost exactly like the claimant crystal, an octagonally cut gem a few inches across. Where the claimant crystal was a bloody red however, the challenge lock was a honey amber. The torchlight shines across it's surfaces, captivating you as it sparkles.
The menu above it also occupies a portion of your attention.
Like many of the options for your lair, the drop down menu is myriad. Riddles, passwords and keys are the most basic, with additional options for spawning clues, for changing the password or which key is needed... the only limit you can see is that heroes have to be able to have a fair chance to pass. If a password is needed, there will be clues spawned around if you don't designate them yourself. If it's a key that's needed, the door won't close if the key is beyond it.
Why would it be anything else? It's a hero's world, after all.
But that still leaves you with a great deal of leeway, and you don't intend to make it easy for them.
Firstly, you go for a key. While a riddle would be amusing, it also would not be particularly secure. Having the riddle's answer be 'one thousand gold' would make you a lot of money... if people bothered to pay. Anything that might get you resources you would have trouble gathering yourself is far more likely to gain you nothing – and while that would make the second floor very defensible, it doesn't feel right to use the challenge lock as a glorified toll booth. Especially because you have now named everyone, and Amanda has been so excited about being the floor boss of the second floor. A password runs into problems the other way – the fact that you need to have fair clues scattered around means that any heroes who attempted to clear out your first floor, as most would, would find the password with little difficulty. This could be an issue with stealth focused heroes able to slip past and into your second floor without challenge.
Even if every hero you've met so far who was some variant of the rogue class has acted almost exactly like a fighter in tighter armour. Some day you might fight a smart one.
You shake your head, clearing it of the foibles of adventurers, and refocus on the menu.
A key is the right balance of security and functionality, you think. Although you're not planning on anything as plebeian as a literal key. Not with all the options available to you.
First, you scrap the pre-generated design – an ornate but relatively simple key with a gem in the handle, and an ethereally floating padlock. It looked good, but it doesn't fit what you want. You want something that pays some homage to where you came from, what shaped this lair you call home.
The lock reshapes under your control and the power of the menu, rough shapes forming, refining as the system understands your intent, till a statue stands in wireframe before you. A kobold, standing proud, with one arm outstretched, palm up. It's other hand goes up onto it's shoulder, where it supports a small goblin child. The statues are life size, which will force most adventurers into a half stoop – nearly a bow, to unlock your door. Penance for the death and suffering they've caused, if you're feeling poetic – petty spite if you're being honest.
The statue fits perfectly in the pillar you placed in the final room of the first floor, behind the small golden plaque you placed there so long ago.
The doorway itself you just make from stone blocks, continuing the pattern on the walls, until you're sure it will be indistinguishable from the wall around it.
The key takes shape next. A simple sphere of crystal three inches across, placed in the kobold's hand, will cause the stone wall to fold away and reveal the stairs up. You colour it the same honey amber as the challenge lock.
Then you split the ball in three.
The strange magic of the challenge lock gives you a lot of freedom – to the point that you can recolour the crystal segments individually, and still have them shift back to the golden yellow when they're brought together. One piece is turned into a bloody ruby, one a glittering emerald, and the final piece is turned into a brilliant sapphire. The ruby is placed into a hard leather arm band, and you designate it to Feathers. The Emerald gets set into a delicate silver tiara, and assigned to Mercy. The sapphire is turned into a small amulet, and you give it to Sapphire.
Lets seem some asshole steal this one, you growl to yourself, still smarting over the hero who stole Sapphire's original namesake gem. The challenge lock key piece will always return to her.
With that all set, and the material costs taken care of by the challenge lock itself, you take a moment to double check your designs and then confirm your choices.
There's no fanfare, or sparkle, or blueprint. One moment you're stood in front of a pillar of stone, the next in front of a statue.
You incline your head towards it, and close your eyes.
Your reverie is broken some minutes later by soft footsteps.
“You make it very hard to stay mad at you, sir.”
You open your eyes to see Sapphire. One hand is fiddling with the gemstone around her neck. Her eyes look wet. You lean down and nuzzle her cheek.
You know, at some point I'm going to run out of excuses for my slow writing – my fingers are fucked up at the moment, joint pain and stiffness. I've got a blood test in a few days to hopefully start getting it looked at, but I have a feeling it's because I hold my mouse wrong. Either way, it makes writing kinda painful at the mo, so I apologise for the slightly shorter chapters.
A huge thank you to my patreons Spockk Kirkk, Abysslsniper, Tyrant615, Dakkanor, Jakelandiar, Roman, TheDrTelos, RD, Bakerdea, Hemlock, Baby Bird and Torish12. A special thank you to Spokk Kirkk who is paying more than they need to, which is one of the most incredible feelings. A very special thank you to Roman for being insane and updating their pledge to a truly silly amount.
