| “The times I've failed?” The woman shakes her head. “More than I can count. By the grace of the gods above, I am still here. But many others were not as fortunate as I have been.” She reaches down, grabbing some prayer beads from her pouch and lets them run through her fingers. She stares at the floor. “My first party, I found by myself, after I came of age and was given the class of priestess by my faith.” She shakes her head and stays silent for a time. “My second party, I found after I was too weak to save the first.” The beads spin around for a time. “This tragedy was my first crisis of faith,” she explains. “Why would the gods raise me to be a priestess, teach me how to heal and cure the hurt and then, on my first breath of freedom, show me that I was simply ineffective at doing either of these things?” she asks. I do not feel as if she is asking me. “Four people died that day, because we went too deep, after I had promised that my healing was up to the task. It wasn’t.” She sets the beads back down into the pouch. “After returning alone, I whipped myself for as long as I could, as penance. After my arm gave out and my other arm lost its strength too, I asked my sister in faith to continue my punishment for me. She did no such thing and instead, restrained me and tended to my wounds.” The priestess lifts her head, staring up through the stained glass windows behind us and remains quiet for a while. “Through the weeks that followed after that, she became my caretaker and soon my dearest friend and then more.” The priestess shakes her head. “I think I have come to understand that this was the gods’ plan all along and, despite what I had felt then and even now for those poor souls, who were given up at the altar for my lesson, I thank the heavens for blessing me with the life I have gotten to live.” She rises up from her seat. “From every failure, there is something to be gained, if you dig deep enough.” She leaves the room, walking towards another priestess who is waiting outside. I notice the old scars visible on the nape of her neck. |
~ Interview series six with the priestesses of the grand-cathedral, from Aro-ara’s book of adventuring lifestyles
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Shortcuts]: Allows your workers to create shortcuts before every boss room. These can be used by inhabitants and workers to quickly move between areas. However, they can also be used by intruders if they clear the floor that a shortcut is located on. |
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Pilgrimage]: Wanderers drawn to your dungeon carry pieces of the world’s ambient magical essences with themselves. Upon arriving, this excess magical energy is given to your dungeon. Extends your territorial radius by 25% Grants EXP for every person who enters the dungeon's territory. The further they travel from, the larger the gain. |
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Bell-tower]: Allows the construction of a giant bell to signal the start of events, as well as the periods of a day. Attracts all attention within your dungeon’s radius towards the tower for the duration of the chiming. |
Isaiah swipes the last window away, doing its best not to think about the mess that it’s currently in.
These abilities are a good combination. Shortcuts will allow the uthra to work faster and the two holy abilities will draw in more weaker enemies from the surrounding region. They'll all bring the tower their passive magics, even if they don’t stop to pray. In essence, the tower now gets power now from everybody who comes here; from those who pray and also from those who wander here, because of the ambient world magics they’ll be carrying in on themselves, like pollen, coating the fuzz of a bee.
Black flies up. “All buried, boss,” it says.
Isaiah nods. “Thank you.” The entity thinks for a moment. “Does the graveyard need more work?”
“Uh…” Black rubs its head. “Well, I mean, there’ve been some animals and stuff trying to get into the graves,” it explains. “We could still use a fence?” it suggests. “We talked about it, but it never really got started before.”
Isaiah nods, looking at the uthra who are just about all sitting on the branches of the very-big-tree. “Gray.”
“Make a fence for the graveyard, got it,” says Gray, flying off from the branch.
Crystal and Green raise their hands. “We’ll make a bell.”
Isaiah nods. “Make the floors first. Put the bell on floor ten.”
“Isn’t that the boss floor?” asks Crystal, shrugging. “Sure thing.” The two of them fly away and set to work.
“White, did you find anything interesting in the tunnels?” asks Isaiah.
“Of course,” says White. “Have you not been watching the stockpile?”
Isaiah blinks. It has not.
| ~ [Stockpile] ~ |
| - Perishables - Berries Red: 99 Blue: 99 Fish River Salmon: 02 Hunting Boar: 06 kg Bones: 27 kg |
| - Raw Materials - Wood Dead Wood: 06 kg Stones Assorted: 19 kg Quarried Stone {15kg}: 587 {30kg}: 116 Ore Impure Iron Ore {5kg}: 54 Copper Ore {5kg}: 16 Gemstones Sapphire: 01 |
| - Fabricated Materials - Ingots Iron Ingots: 32 Copper ingots: 12 Fabric {Rough Blend}: 08 kg |
“The ground here by the river is soft and easy to dig through, but there is a strong core of minerals not far beneath the surface.”
Isaiah nods. It points at white. “Good work. Next, find silver. Find gold. Find marble.”
“Hallow. A tall order, but I will keep the faith,” says White and flies off to set to work.
“Teal. Make bandages,” it orders. “Make them look good.”
“Will do!” says Teal.
Red is the only one remaining and the two of them stare at each other for a time.
“…What?” asks Red.
“Red. Are there others?” asks Isaiah. “Like Rorate? Others who would join us?”
Red shrugs. “I mean… it’s not really normal for people to ‘join’ a dungeon, you know?” she asks. “I don’t think it’s ever happened, actually. Well, maybe apart from an odd witch or something, but that’s really about it,” she says. “You gotta understand, this whole tower thing is super unorthodox.”
Isaiah gestures around them. “The territory has expanded far. The forest is big,” it says. “Search everywhere you can go. Find anyone. Lure them here. Do whatever you can think of.”
Red nods. “Sure. Any preferences? Women? Children? Big, strong, hunky men?”
“Everyone,” says Isaiah. “Gather the faithful.”
Red lifts an eyebrow. “And if they aren’t faithful people?”
Isaiah points at her with a taloned finger. “- Then make them be.”
Red hits her fist into her free palm. “Now we’re talkin’!” Red buzzes up into the air and flies off, setting to her task.
Isaiah sighs, looking around.
What a mess.
It just wants to be there for its chicks, when they’re born. Why is that so much to ask for?
Isaiah stares towards the sky, wondering about the very confusing ways of the gods.
| ~ [Rorate] ~ |
Rorate lays on her back, staring up towards the ceiling of the room.
Her head is spinning so much that she’s sure she had been drinking the mushroom-brew again. But this time, it aches so much more than it had done from that.
She remembers the people coming in and her trying to do her best to fulfill her new role but then…
— Ah! She slipped and fell. She remembers now.
“Oh no…” mutters Rorate quietly beneath her breath, sitting upright. She messed up.
She had been given a super simple task and she couldn’t even do that right. Unbelievable. She really is a screw up.
Her eyes wander around the place that she’s in. This is a room, made out of ornate brickwork like the rest of the tower. It is furnished and tidy and she lays on a bed, covered. The red spirit had told her that this is her place to stay. But really, why? What’s the point of her staying here, when she can’t even be of any use to the graceful entity that had saved her life? Twice now, apparently.
Although, through flashes of memories of her stuporous episodes, while she was under the influence of the drink, she feels like it was many more times than that.
— Her head really is killing her.
“Are you well?” asks a familiar voice, interrupting her melancholy.
Rorate opens her eyes again, shooting upright in a jolt as she stares at the porcelain entity standing before her bed. It gazes around the room, looking warily around the area with twitchy, bird-like movements, as if it were paranoid about something.
“I- I’m fine, thank you!” says Rorate, lowering her head. “I’m sorry that I messed up,” she says. “I’ll pack my stuff and go.”
A warm glow fills her vision.
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| (Isaiah) used: [Minor Heal] on (Rorate) |
| Cost: {4} SOUL |
| Restored target HP to 100% {86%} |
| SOUL: 26/30 |
Rorate feels her vision becoming clearer. “I would prefer it if you stayed, Rorate,” says the reassuring voice. “I have use for you here. There is much work to do.”
She doesn’t understand why the divine being would see any use in her now or even before. But her throat clenches up and her eyes fall shut, pressing a fresh dew out of their corners. “…I’m sorry that I’m not useful,” she apologizes.
A hand places itself on her shoulder.
“You are very useful,” is the last thing that the celestial creature says to her.
Before she can open her eyes again, having heard this sentence for the first time in her life, it is gone, vanished as if by the grace of the heavens themselves.
She sits alone in her room, in her bed.
But a warmth that lingers on her shoulder, head and in her core tells her that she is no such thing. If anything at all, she is a fool for having thought so.
Like any other healthy adult, Rorate spends a while crying in bed and then gets up and puts on her work-clothes.
Nobody had ever given her something as grand as the title of ‘being useful’ to live up to and now that it has happened, she can’t let them down.
Isaiah shakes itself out, coming back upstairs from the tunnels. It hopes that Rorate didn't notice it scrambling away like a mole escaping a fox. It probably looked very undignified. But it loathes being underground. What a terrible place to be.
Already upon reaching the surface world, it feels strength returning to its body and as it flaps its large wings and hovers up into the air, flying higher and higher, it feels itself becoming stronger and stronger and as it becomes stronger, so do the monsters of the tower at the same time.
| “The times I've failed?” The woman shakes her head. “More than I can count. By the grace of the gods above, I am still here. But many others were not as fortunate as I have been.” She reaches down, grabbing some prayer beads from her pouch and lets them run through her fingers. She stares at the floor. “My first party, I found by myself, after I came of age and was given the class of priestess by my faith.” She shakes her head and stays silent for a time. “My second party, I found after I was too weak to save the first.” The beads spin around for a time. “This tragedy was my first crisis of faith,” she explains. “Why would the gods raise me to be a priestess, teach me how to heal and cure the hurt and then, on my first breath of freedom, show me that I was simply ineffective at doing either of these things?” she asks. I do not feel as if she is asking me. “Four people died that day, because we went too deep, after I had promised that my healing was up to the task. It wasn’t.” She sets the beads back down into the pouch. “After returning alone, I whipped myself for as long as I could, as penance. After my arm gave out and my other arm lost its strength too, I asked my sister in faith to continue my punishment for me. She did no such thing and instead, restrained me and tended to my wounds.” The priestess lifts her head, staring up through the stained glass windows behind us and remains quiet for a while. “Through the weeks that followed after that, she became my caretaker and soon my dearest friend and then more.” The priestess shakes her head. “I think I have come to understand that this was the gods’ plan all along and, despite what I had felt then and even now for those poor souls, who were given up at the altar for my lesson, I thank the heavens for blessing me with the life I have gotten to live.” She rises up from her seat. “From every failure, there is something to be gained, if you dig deep enough.” She leaves the room, walking towards another priestess who is waiting outside. I notice the old scars visible on the nape of her neck. |
~ Interview series six with the priestesses of the grand-cathedral, from Aro-ara’s book of adventuring lifestyles
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Shortcuts]: Allows your workers to create shortcuts before every boss room. These can be used by inhabitants and workers to quickly move between areas. However, they can also be used by intruders if they clear the floor that a shortcut is located on. |
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Pilgrimage]: Wanderers drawn to your dungeon carry pieces of the world’s ambient magical essences with themselves. Upon arriving, this excess magical energy is given to your dungeon. Extends your territorial radius by 25% Grants EXP for every person who enters the dungeon's territory. The further they travel from, the larger the gain. |
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| [Bell-tower]: Allows the construction of a giant bell to signal the start of events, as well as the periods of a day. Attracts all attention within your dungeon’s radius towards the tower for the duration of the chiming. |
Isaiah swipes the last window away, doing its best not to think about the mess that it’s currently in.
These abilities are a good combination. Shortcuts will allow the uthra to work faster and the two holy abilities will draw in more weaker enemies from the surrounding region. They'll all bring the tower their passive magics, even if they don’t stop to pray. In essence, the tower now gets power now from everybody who comes here; from those who pray and also from those who wander here, because of the ambient world magics they’ll be carrying in on themselves, like pollen, coating the fuzz of a bee.
Black flies up. “All buried, boss,” it says.
Isaiah nods. “Thank you.” The entity thinks for a moment. “Does the graveyard need more work?”
“Uh…” Black rubs its head. “Well, I mean, there’ve been some animals and stuff trying to get into the graves,” it explains. “We could still use a fence?” it suggests. “We talked about it, but it never really got started before.”
Isaiah nods, looking at the uthra who are just about all sitting on the branches of the very-big-tree. “Gray.”
“Make a fence for the graveyard, got it,” says Gray, flying off from the branch.
Crystal and Green raise their hands. “We’ll make a bell.”
Isaiah nods. “Make the floors first. Put the bell on floor ten.”
“Isn’t that the boss floor?” asks Crystal, shrugging. “Sure thing.” The two of them fly away and set to work.
“White, did you find anything interesting in the tunnels?” asks Isaiah.
“Of course,” says White. “Have you not been watching the stockpile?”
Isaiah blinks. It has not.
| ~ [Stockpile] ~ |
| - Perishables - Berries Red: 99 Blue: 99 Fish River Salmon: 02 Hunting Boar: 06 kg Bones: 27 kg |
| - Raw Materials - Wood Dead Wood: 06 kg Stones Assorted: 19 kg Quarried Stone {15kg}: 587 {30kg}: 116 Ore Impure Iron Ore {5kg}: 54 Copper Ore {5kg}: 16 Gemstones Sapphire: 01 |
| - Fabricated Materials - Ingots Iron Ingots: 32 Copper ingots: 12 Fabric {Rough Blend}: 08 kg |
“The ground here by the river is soft and easy to dig through, but there is a strong core of minerals not far beneath the surface.”
Isaiah nods. It points at white. “Good work. Next, find silver. Find gold. Find marble.”
“Hallow. A tall order, but I will keep the faith,” says White and flies off to set to work.
“Teal. Make bandages,” it orders. “Make them look good.”
“Will do!” says Teal.
Red is the only one remaining and the two of them stare at each other for a time.
“…What?” asks Red.
“Red. Are there others?” asks Isaiah. “Like Rorate? Others who would join us?”
Red shrugs. “I mean… it’s not really normal for people to ‘join’ a dungeon, you know?” she asks. “I don’t think it’s ever happened, actually. Well, maybe apart from an odd witch or something, but that’s really about it,” she says. “You gotta understand, this whole tower thing is super unorthodox.”
Isaiah gestures around them. “The territory has expanded far. The forest is big,” it says. “Search everywhere you can go. Find anyone. Lure them here. Do whatever you can think of.”
Red nods. “Sure. Any preferences? Women? Children? Big, strong, hunky men?”
“Everyone,” says Isaiah. “Gather the faithful.”
Red lifts an eyebrow. “And if they aren’t faithful people?”
Isaiah points at her with a taloned finger. “- Then make them be.”
Red hits her fist into her free palm. “Now we’re talkin’!” Red buzzes up into the air and flies off, setting to her task.
Isaiah sighs, looking around.
What a mess.
It just wants to be there for its chicks, when they’re born. Why is that so much to ask for?
Isaiah stares towards the sky, wondering about the very confusing ways of the gods.
| ~ [Rorate] ~ |
Rorate lays on her back, staring up towards the ceiling of the room.
Her head is spinning so much that she’s sure she had been drinking the mushroom-brew again. But this time, it aches so much more than it had done from that.
She remembers the people coming in and her trying to do her best to fulfill her new role but then…
— Ah! She slipped and fell. She remembers now.
“Oh no…” mutters Rorate quietly beneath her breath, sitting upright. She messed up.
She had been given a super simple task and she couldn’t even do that right. Unbelievable. She really is a screw up.
Her eyes wander around the place that she’s in. This is a room, made out of ornate brickwork like the rest of the tower. It is furnished and tidy and she lays on a bed, covered. The red spirit had told her that this is her place to stay. But really, why? What’s the point of her staying here, when she can’t even be of any use to the graceful entity that had saved her life? Twice now, apparently.
Although, through flashes of memories of her stuporous episodes, while she was under the influence of the drink, she feels like it was many more times than that.
— Her head really is killing her.
“Are you well?” asks a familiar voice, interrupting her melancholy.
Rorate opens her eyes again, shooting upright in a jolt as she stares at the porcelain entity standing before her bed. It gazes around the room, looking warily around the area with twitchy, bird-like movements, as if it were paranoid about something.
“I- I’m fine, thank you!” says Rorate, lowering her head. “I’m sorry that I messed up,” she says. “I’ll pack my stuff and go.”
A warm glow fills her vision.
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| (Isaiah) used: [Minor Heal] on (Rorate) |
| Cost: {4} SOUL |
| Restored target HP to 100% {86%} |
| SOUL: 26/30 |
Rorate feels her vision becoming clearer. “I would prefer it if you stayed, Rorate,” says the reassuring voice. “I have use for you here. There is much work to do.”
She doesn’t understand why the divine being would see any use in her now or even before. But her throat clenches up and her eyes fall shut, pressing a fresh dew out of their corners. “…I’m sorry that I’m not useful,” she apologizes.
A hand places itself on her shoulder.
“You are very useful,” is the last thing that the celestial creature says to her.
Before she can open her eyes again, having heard this sentence for the first time in her life, it is gone, vanished as if by the grace of the heavens themselves.
She sits alone in her room, in her bed.
But a warmth that lingers on her shoulder, head and in her core tells her that she is no such thing. If anything at all, she is a fool for having thought so.
Like any other healthy adult, Rorate spends a while crying in bed and then gets up and puts on her work-clothes.
Nobody had ever given her something as grand as the title of ‘being useful’ to live up to and now that it has happened, she can’t let them down.
Isaiah shakes itself out, coming back upstairs from the tunnels. It hopes that Rorate didn't notice it scrambling away like a mole escaping a fox. It probably looked very undignified. But it loathes being underground. What a terrible place to be.
Already upon reaching the surface world, it feels strength returning to its body and as it flaps its large wings and hovers up into the air, flying higher and higher, it feels itself becoming stronger and stronger and as it becomes stronger, so do the monsters of the tower at the same time.
