dungeonbent

[dungeonbent]

Log The 54th. I Attempted To Find Some Mention In Theras’ Writing Of Such A Spectre As Might Have Accosted Me In The Night And Found Little. Or, Perhaps I Am Now Allowed To Say That I Looked Through The Writing Of One Rose Lalonde?

There Is A Scant Three Lines Where Rose Makes Mention Of The World Outside The Dungeon.

In The First, She Mentions The Festival Of Lost Hearts And Its Predilection For Drinking. This Is Where She Has Her Last Aboveground Supper, Surrounded By Her Compatriots For The Expedition. 

In The Second, She Mentions How In The Phenomena Of The Bubbling Biomes, It Can Seem, At First, As Though One Has Come Out Aboveground, Albeit In Different Times.

In The Final Mention, Rose Recalls Something Of Her Girlhood. This Is In The Latter Part Of The Guide, So Close To The End That Objective Voice Has Given Way To Subjective Musing And More Than A Little Emotion, Poorly Hidden. 

Rose Speaks Of Being A Schoolgirl And First Learning How To Design A Dungeon- How Eerily Similar The Layout Is To Some Of Her Adolescent Attempts. She Makes Allusions Throughout The Text That There Is A Persistent Sense of Deja Vu About The Proceedings, And Here, It Seems To Bear Fruit. 

This Is The Only Place Where Rose Speaks Of Her Family. 

How Lonely It Must Have Been, All Alone In The Dungeon!

[dungeonbent]

Log The 53rd. I Am Haunted And Have No Recourse To Remedying It. It Is Not Merely The Spirit In The Dungeon, Whose Chill Creeps Into My Throat Even Still. It Is Not Merely The Spirit Of Last Night’s Nightmare, Who May Have Been that Self Same Spirit Or Merely Worn Her Face. It Is Not Even The Ghost Of The Girl Whose Former Bedroom I Inhabit As One Might A Vacationer’s Inn.

Last Night, When Nightmares Held Me Fast, I Dreamt That I Tasted My Own Blood. It Was An Incidental Thing Borne Of A Need Of Wakening, And Yet The Taste Is Vivid; Molten Iron And Meat, Fresh From The Tap And Warmed By Sleep-Prone Flesh.

I Had Not Realised How Often I Bite My Lip Until I Have Walked About The House, My Tongue Instinctively Licking Over My Mouth To Find A Trace Of Broken Skin. Alas, My Teeth Are Too Blunt, And The Shock Of My Unconscious Desire So Striking, That I Am Unable To Draw Blood. It Is A Distraction That Even Sir Egbert Has Taken Notice Of, Couching His Questioning Gaze In A Well Timed Joke About How I Must Be Positively Starving For That Droll Little Spread Of Breakfast Foods- Of The Type, I Haven’t A Clue, For I Devoured All That Fell Into My Hands- And That I Ought To Only Leave After I’ve Had Double My Fill. There’s Simply No Meat On My Bones.

Meat. In The Elven Lands, I Did Not Crave It Much. Vegetation Tended To Make Up The Majority Of My Feed. But Now My Mind Is Assailed Of Thoughts Of Steaks Cooked Rare, The Glistening Insides Shimmering With The Viscous Fat Rendering The Beef Mouth Tender, Near Buttery. The Hint Of Salt. The Throbbing Crimson Of Sinew. The Gentle Remnants Of That Most Life-Giving Blood, A Satin Elixir Which, Despite Everything, I Find Myself Craving.

Perhaps I Did Not Get Enough Sleep Last Night. Being Accosted In One’s Dreams By Demons From The Ether Tends To Do That, I Fucking Guess.

[dungeonbent]

STORY STATUS - DAY 5

The second day of the festival saw Kanaya more preoccupied with matters of business more than matters of pleasure. Now, though, a new day dawns and the third day of the festival is in full swing! Haunted by nightmares of the missing Egbert party and of her newly awakened craving for blood, Kanaya resolves to find out more about the missing party.

She may have a lead in a half-foot party leader named Karkat Vans, but will he even agree to meet with her, let alone take her to the dungeon? And why do her dreams seem to get darker and ever darker...?

THE LOCATION

The Isle of Skaia, a little island known for it's Dungeon which, while relatively new, appears to draw adventurers from far and wide with a mysterious call...

Lo'Oat appears to come from an old language, meaning "(Land of) Omens and Truth"

THE CAST

Kanaya Maryam, Sylph - A scholar from a Western kingdom ruled by the Queen of Elves. She has set sail to the island of Skaia to follow the trail left by a book penned by a mysterious author...

Karkat, Leader - A mysterious party leader praised by Chilchuck of the Touden party. No one seems to be able to find him...

Feferi, Magic User - A beastman elf with a high affinity for magic and a deft hand at healing and resurrection! She is the likely culprit of who sang the half-foot steward off his ship some days prior, but she made sure to save him before anything terrible happened.

Aradia, Exorcist - A tallman magic user with an encyclopedic knowledge of ghosts and the supernatural. She is another kind face on Skaia, though perhaps a little too interested in the workings of the dead. Would really like someone's ectoplasm the next time they die.

Eridan, Magic User - Feferi's mage friend and apparent elf, a somewhat disagreeable and contrarian companion that Kanaya doesn't necessarily look forward to spending more time with. His mid-ranged attacks appear lethal.

Equius, Berserker - An ogre with a particularly noble bearing and somewhat sweaty demeanor. One of Aradia's friends and a part of Feferi's extended group, he seems to have an interest in the machinery long ago forbidden by the elves and dwarves

Mr. Egbert, Baker - A Tallman hailing from Skaia who owns a bakery in the little aboveground village of Lo'Oat. Five years before, his daughter was lost to the dungeon. Every time he attempts to enter and find her body, he's almost immediately killed.

Porrim Maryam, Court Magician - A Court Magician in the Court of the Queen of Elves and Kanaya's elder sister. This is who Kanaya writes to the most about her adventures within the Dungeon.

R. L. Theras / Rose Lalonde, Magic User - The mysterious author of Learned Complacency: A Record of the Zoologically Dubious in Skaia Dungeon, Kanaya's favorite book and adventuring guide.

Missing, presumed dead.

June Egbert, Egbert Party leader - Missing, presumed dead.

Dave of Stri'dir, Knight - Missing, presumed dead.

Jade Harley, Arcane Researcher - Missing, presumed dead.

ABOUT DUNGEONBENT

DungeonBent is a Homestuck AU created by @jojotier where Homestuck characters have been placed in the world of Dungeon Meshi! It mainly follows Kanaya, an elf scholar who hires the party of Karkat Vantas to escort her into the Dungeon on Skaia Island, where mysterious arcane writings of forbidden magic originate, all penned by a mysterious RL...

(This pinned is a living document, so be sure to check back periodically for upd8s!)

[dungeonbent]

Chapter 15: A Wurm Named Casey (and a ghost)

“Shhh,” the spectre says, that same ghost that had killed you once before. The finger on your lips is gentle, if frostbitten, the sound of her cracking voice almost soothing. This is not helping your impulse to scream at the top of your lungs. But you hold out, shaking your head rather admirably while you stumble back onto the ground with your fawn-like knees. “Shhh shh,” the ghost soothes again, her pale grey form gliding to your level with the fluidity of fabric free-floating in water. “Now, is this the sort of face that becomes someone embarking upon an adventure?”

More excerpts from the field guide of R. L. Theras on the dungeon of Skaia; Kanaya meets a not-so-friendly ghost trying to protect her regardless.

[dungeonbent]

( An excerpt from Learned Complacency: A Record of the Surreal and Zoologically Dubious in the Dungeon of Skaia, written by R. L. Theras. )

… Thus far, the primary conceit of these pages has been to illustrate the base layout of the dungeon and the verifiable history of Skaia. Now that you are briefed on the intricacies of the Prospit-Derse conflict (caused in part due to the differing dynamics between the short and long-lived races within the borders of each kingdom), their eventual ruin, and their ultimate collapse in on one another, I will indulge in something of a detour. Much like the paths of the dungeon in which we venture, my thoughts must make a similar change of course.

However, this is far from a flight of fancy. It would, in fact, be wholly irresponsible not to explore this new passageway being built. For while smaller-minded men may give into the urge to claim sole credit for their achievements, all those in the dungeon know that without a party, they are lost.

I am joined in my travels by three companions. For the sake of anonymity and to ward against all future successes we may find after our return to the surface, I will refer to them by their chosen aliases: Ecto, Turntech, and Gnostio.

Turntech has been somewhat of a companion to me throughout my 90 years, both in terms of age due to his being my pseudo-twin and in terms of study. His accumulated knowledge of anatomy has been as much a boon to my personal research as his expertise in ancient dwarven technology, having previously unearthed a strange set of disks dubbed ‘turntables’- a truly archaic device which appears to me something of ritual significance. He will be assisting us in translation, navigation, and proper time management.

Gnostio is a native to the island whom I met when my brother and I arrived on Skaia, as well as someone intimately familiar with magic of many strands. There is no one on the island more knowledgeable about the flora which will be encountered within the dungeon, nor is there anyone quite so skilled in spatial manipulation. She will be helping to carry out research and act as our scout with the superior lupine senses of her beastman form. She is also, I suspect, to be the primary source of our collective morale going forward. Cheer is truly a strangely infectious thing.

While Ecto has little research experience beyond her brief work with the gold-stripping crews scraping the kingdom formerly known as Prospit clean of its luster, she is an invaluable part of the team; she is remarkably cool under pressure, and her mastery of teleportation magic is second only to her apparent affinity for the spirits of the wind, who flock to her as pets to a beloved master. While all of us have been on expeditions before, none have been on quite the number that Ecto has; therefore, if there is a leader, she may as well be the closest to it.

I take the time to introduce these players because there is one truth which applies to all dungeons: your survival depends entirely upon those who enter the dungeon. For the next two months, these three individuals will not only be a party- they will act as my companions, my flock, and, inevitably, will act as the lifeline which I depend on to live. 

This is even more true considering the small size of the party. While three of us have experience in doling out resurrection magic, and one has teleportation magic which can feasibly take us to the surface if straits become truly dire, it only takes one overwhelming enemy. While the four of us are not green in any sense of the word when it comes to fighting, we are still faced with an unavoidable truth: if we don’t break the dungeon, the dungeon may well break us.

When we reach the bottom of the dungeon to perhaps find that fictional ‘Skaia’ which the island derives its name- that endless pool of creativity where every desire is brought to startling life, sated with the fill of wonder- then, perhaps, we may turn. Perhaps the story of Prospit and Derse is less history and more omen; the long ago echo of a warning.

Regardless of this, I put my full faith in my compatriots. I entrust them my life.

For all my grandstanding about the academic nature of this work, this is, in part, a story. It is my story, if only because I am regrettably unable to attain the full objectivity that would find me in a fully controlled laboratory setting. 

While I endeavor to write this book alone, do not be alarmed should their hands also touch the pen. They are merely telling their part of the story as well.

[dungeonbent]

STORY STATUS - DAY 5

The second day of the festival saw Kanaya more preoccupied with matters of business more than matters of pleasure. Now, though, a new day dawns and the third day of the festival is in full swing! Haunted by nightmares of the missing Egbert party and of the knowledge that her own previous death may have been foul play, Kanaya tries to make the most of the day.

As she attempts to become familiar with the island and meets Feferi's strange friends, can she find the party she was looking for all along? Or will the mysteries simply pile on higher...?

THE LOCATION

The Isle of Skaia, a little island known for it's Dungeon which, while relatively new, appears to draw adventurers from far and wide with a mysterious call...

Lo'Oat appears to come from an old language, meaning "(Land of) Omens and Truth"

THE CAST

Kanaya Maryam, Sylph - A scholar from a Western kingdom ruled by the Queen of Elves. She has set sail to the island of Skaia to follow the trail left by a book penned by a mysterious author...

Feferi, Magic User - A beastman elf with a high affinity for magic and a deft hand at healing and resurrection! She is the likely culprit of who sang the half-foot steward off his ship some days prior, but she made sure to save him before anything terrible happened.

Aradia, Exorcist - A tallman magic user with an encyclopedic knowledge of ghosts and the supernatural! She is another kind face on Skaia, though perhaps a little too interested in the workings of the dead. Would really like someone's ectoplasm the next time they die.

Eridan, Magic User - Feferi's mage friend and apparent elf, a somewhat disagreeable and contrarian companion that Kanaya doesn't necessarily look forward to spending more time with.

Mr. Egbert, Baker - A Tallman hailing from Skaia who owns a bakery in the little aboveground village of Lo'Oat. Five years before, his daughter was lost to the dungeon. Every time he attempts to enter and find her body, he's almost immediately killed.

Porrim Maryam, Court Magician - A Court Magician in the Court of the Queen of Elves and Kanaya's elder sister. This is who Kanaya writes to the most about her adventures within the Dungeon.

R. L. Theras / Rose Lalonde, Magic User - The mysterious author of Learned Complacency: A Record of the Zoologically Dubious in Skaia Dungeon, Kanaya's favorite book and adventuring guide.

Missing, presumed dead.

June Egbert, Egbert Party leader - Missing, presumed dead.

Dave of Stri'dir, Knight - Missing, presumed dead.

Jade Harley, Arcane Researcher - Missing, presumed dead.

ABOUT DUNGEONBENT

DungeonBent is a Homestuck AU created by @jojotier where Homestuck characters have been placed in the world of Dungeon Meshi! It mainly follows Kanaya, an elf scholar who hires the party of Karkat Vantas to escort her into the Dungeon on Skaia Island, where mysterious arcane writings of forbidden magic originate, all penned by a mysterious RL...

(This pinned is a living document, so be sure to check back periodically for upd8s!)

[dungeonbent]

loseyns / mulled wine

The whole dried spices in the mortar seem to you rather tauntingly staring. You hold the pestle tight in hand, uncomfortably reminded of the school days spent attempting to mix alchemical ingredients in the same way, and wonder how you ended up in this situation.

You've never so much as stepped foot in a kitchen. In much of the elven Court's cooking is a dreadful lack of spice which Porrim only ever attempted to rectify with secret vials of dubiously spicy liquids.

Your name is KANAYA MARYAM, and Sir Egbert has entrusted you with the creation of an ingredient known as 'powdered douce'. Still reeling from shame from your escapades the night before and not wanting to let the poor tallman know of your previous death, you wordlessly took up the task, and now you are regretting every decision that has led to your continued lifespan.

You know that there is a grain of paradise inside the mortar. There is dried ginger and nutmeg and cinnamon. There is even a bit of sugar, but not enough to make this a sweet dish, though the way that Sir Egbert dumps flour on the other side of the table may trick you otherwise. You are not sure if there is enough paradise in this world to make the atmosphere feel any less awkward than it is right now. To compensate, you add another little peppery grain of the stuff and begin to grind.

There is a heady scent from the cauldron on the fire as Sir Egbert quietly sets about his task, making a well in the flour with practiced hands. They are the calloused hands of a baker and a seafarer- the kind of hands used to hard work and backed with muscle.

With one hand, he slowly pours a bit of water in the well and mixes with the flour. You continue scraping the wooden sides of the mortar when he asks, "Did you have fun last night?"

You startle, nearly dropping the pestle. You instead grip it tighter and beg your mouth to move. The only thing that falls out is, "I suppose." and you want to brain yourself immediately. Clearing your throat, you add, "I, ah... became a little caught up in the festivities."

"That's easy to do," Sir Egbert says in a plain sort of voice, "There's a lot on offer, and plenty to drink with."

"Yes- the drinking was mostly what preoccupied me," As well as the death, but. That isn't something you can so easily bring up.

"My June was the same way," Sir Egbert says, and your stomach drops. You can't look at him. The past tense makes bile want to crawl up your throat, and you don't know how to deal with the vulnerability. You continue grinding powdered douce.

You ask in a measured voice, "Was she?"

"Mostly just during the festival- she tried to hide it most nights, but sometimes our house was the one to host her friends when no one else wanted to go home." You're afraid to see what sort of expression is on his face. You peek up to see his flour-caked fingers forming an amorphous white lump.

"I see." You say, for lack of anything better to say.

Sir Egbert says, "Sometimes, I even had to carry her to bed- just like when she was a child." You slowly look up to see Sir Egbert's face, and it's worse than what you feared. The sorrow is there, yes- the grief remains.

But the tallman smiles so gently as he kneads, working the tender memory into the dough. The resignation is what makes you want to flinch the most.

You work in silence for a while after that. You aren't good at figuring out what to say in situations like this; aren't good at comforting gestures, at putting thoughts into verbal assurance and lifting burdens that you cannot directly touch.

Over time, Sir Egbert miraculously turns his well of flour into a good dough, kneading with precise, practiced movements. The contents of your mortar are filled with a dull brown powder. You continue to grind and say, "I met a woman named Feferi, last night. And some of her friends."

"Ah, Feferi," Sir Egbert nods with approval, "She's a good kid."

"She said she... knew your daughter. And her party."

"Ah." is all Sir Egbert replies.

You try to formulate a thought beyond that, but it appears Sir Egbert has finished his dough. He places it in a well-oiled bowl, covers it, and consults a watch of dwarven make, presumably to set a time. By the time he goes over to the stove of the little kitchen to begin working on a large pot, you have forgotten what you want to say.

Eventually, Sir Egbert says, "They were a good party. Talented, well-organized- and they had been on longer trips by then."

There is a feeling of dread settling into your bones as you turn, not spotting the fellow's face. There is only the look of his back and the smoke puffing from the pipe he blows on while working on pouring a bottle of wine.

"In comparison, two months seemed like a sort of vacation. It was supposed to be the sort of trip that happened where you only fight if it's necessary. I knew she could take care of herself."

There is the smell of something citrusy as Sir Egbert swipes the blade of a knife over only the vibrant yellow rind of a lemon. You are afraid to interrupt, as this is the most candid the man has been since you arrived on the island.

"Even if she couldn't," Sir Egbert continues, "her party was dependable. They were all friends- thicker than thieves, even when they were younger." He pauses, "Or when Jade and June were younger- it's harder to gauge just how old the Lalonde siblings were when they arrived on the island. I don't have the best eye for the longer-lived races, you see,"

"Of course," You say, and crack a little smile at that. You feel the same about the shorter-lived ones- though a tallman like Sir Egbert looks to you to be about his mid 200s, you just know he would give some ridiculously low number as his true age.

Sir Egbert pours a dredge of sugar into the concoction he's brewing. "They were all strong in their own right. It should have been enough."

But it wasn't. And that sentiment hangs in the air as a dark cloud as Sir Egbert diligently cuts thin slices of orange into the pot.

You can't see Sir Egbert's face as he says, "I think something happened in the dungeon." You wonder if he also read Theras's work- if he also pored over those pages as intently as you, searching for any sign that the party she spoke of was the same that had suppered in his home.

"What makes you think that?"

But he makes no mention of it. Instead, he speaks, and what he says chills you to your core.

"I've been killed."

The silence that rings between you is so sharp that it makes the feeling of blood rushing to your ears hurt. You slowly set the pestle down in the mortar, the crack of wood on spiced-wood a lightning strike through the gloom. You remember your death. The freezing of your joints. The ghost.

"I-In the dungeon?" You ask, stupidly, because where else could Sir Egbert have been killed to be subsequently resurrected? If they'd killed him here above ground, there would be no magic to bring him back from the land of the dead.

"Every single time I've so much as stepped foot in it." Sir Egbert says. There is a puff of steam, or maybe smoke. He doesn't look at you.

But that doesn't make any sense. You read Theras's work- the upper floors aren't too terribly dangerous, if one knows what they're doing. You saw how Sir Egbert worked on the ship coming to Skaia; he does not seem to be incompetent. Perhaps his luck has seemingly dwindled, or his age has made it harder?

The frost, the ghost, the dungeon.

You don't know for sure whether Theras's party is really them. You've had your suspicions, yes, and many of the locals seem convinced that if the book is fiction, then it fictionalizes them- but it could still be a completely unrelated incident.

"Could you... tell me more about them?" You ask, faint. "The Egbert party."

And Sir Egbert does.

The details begin to slide into place as neatly as the thin noodles Sir Egbert makes of the rested dough. A party of four, made up of a tallman; her beastman cousin; a half-dwarf and a half-elf, calling themselves twins. June had been the leader of the outfit while Rose had been their battle mage and something of a researcher. Dave had been their brawler and archaeologist- Jade their scout, their cleric, another researcher.

They had wanted to reach the bottom of the dungeon, and now, it seemed, the dungeon refused to let them go.

"Dear lord- why...?" You want to ask why he's telling you all this, but that would be foolish. You asked. You shouldn't be so brazen when you ask for everything all by your pathetic little self. "If this is too much-"

"It's not." Sir Egbert says, damnably gentle. You wish he would take the sharpened edge of his tenderness and just run you through. It'd be kinder. "I just need you to know what you might be getting into."

You take a deep breath, and say, "I... had something of a sense of it." Especially now. Especially with the spectre's icy claw still lodged in your heart.

The wine has been left to stew in its own heat off to the side; the noodles left to become somewhat hard. Sir Egbert looks to you, silent. Then he bows his head and says, "Then I hope you know to prepare well for this mission of yours." And the only thing you can do is nod.

The chilled atmosphere remains somewhat even as Sir Egbert asks you to fetch a large jug of bone broth to set about the fire and bring to another boil. He cooks the newly made pasta and you both watch the squares bob up under the dark broth. Those noodles are then fished out and, strangely, the broth is not used again.

You watch with mild confusion as Sir Egbert lays the squares of cooked noodle along the bottom of two bowls. He grates a thick, soft cheese over top and asks for the powdered douce, which you provide. He sprinkles a fair amount and then repeats the process twice more, leaving both bowls with a heaping helping of melted cheese over chewy noodles and some spice.

Somewhat unsure, you ask, "What have we made, exactly...?"

Sir Egbert looks at you, bewildered. "It's elvish, though?"

"I should say not." You say flatly, too taken aback to figure out how else to emote.

"Really? It's called loseyns," Sir Egbert says. "Are you positive?"

"I should hope so, considering," You gesture to the length of your ears.

Sir Egbert scratches at his perfectly clean-shaven chin. "Strange. It's been all the rage in Lo'Oat these days..."

You are also served a mug of wine with some kind of spicy kick to it. It pairs surprisingly well with the noodles, which taste much like what they are- warm noodles slathered in cheese with some spice and a little sugar.

It's not bad, but it is warming. You ask why it's become so popular, though. You don't understand it. Then Sir Egbert says, "Well, a traveler coming from the western lands had said that during the Elf Queen's birthday banquet, this had been served and eaten with long sticks. If it was good enough for the Queen, then..."

"Hold on," You say, a noodle falling off the thin wooden skewer that he had handed you to eat this with for some reason, "are you talking about lasagna?"

"No- loseyns," Sir Egbert says, a serious, business-like look on his face. "That's what all the locals are calling it."

"No- it's- it's supposed to have meat," You say, struggling to explain, "but ground rather fine, with herbs. It's actually better than most food, and-"

"Ah! But look," Sir Egbert says, pointing at your plate, "it does have meat."

You're about to argue that blatant lie when you look down and what the fuck that's actually a lasagna now. Where did the loseyns you just spent the last hour making go?

Sir Egbert looks as unflappable as always, but you see him conspicuously hiding a tray of what can only be an actual lasagna on the counter behind the mulled wine. You have no idea what the point of this entire exchange was, but have the strange feeling that you have been duped for some unknown and arcane purpose.

By the end of the meal, you've learned that the two dishes really are interchangeable here in most peoples' eyes, and you're also both laughing and making polite merry. You think that tomorrow, when you enjoy the third day of the festival, things will start to look up.

This doesn't stop you from dreaming that night.

While night falls and the echo of revelry slips in, you cannot stop dreaming of frozen bodies locked within unforgiving walls of stone and brass, hands stretched toward a green sun.

( Click here for the loseyns recipe | Click here for the mulled wine )

[dungeonbent]

Log The 52nd. I Found Feferi's Group As They Were Gaining Numbers For The Evening Festivities. I Am Saddened By The Fact That I Had To Turn Down Their Invitation For The Night.

Feferi Was Quick To Reassure Me That It Was No Trouble, And That Really, Dinner Was More Important. I Mentioned Sir Egbert's Name And She Seemed To Think Very Hard For A Moment, Ears Tilting Downward Slightly.

Then, She Exclaimed, "Oh! i think Vriska liked his gill for a while there! but, uhm..."

"She Disappeared."

"pretty much, yeah- her and the rest of her party. what were their names....?" And Then I Learned.

June Egbert. Rose Lalonde. Dave of Stri'dir. Jade Harley.

Five Years Ago The Four Entered The Dungeon.

No One Ever Found The Bodies.

[dungeonbent]

Log The 51st. I Have Asked For The Whereabouts Of Karkat Vans, But My Search Thus Far Has Been Frustratingly Futile.

The Half-Foot Of The Touden Party Was Kind Enough To Point Me To The Local Adventurer's Guild Set Up Specifically For Those Of His Race, But The Guild Is Not Open During The Festival. When Pressed, Mr. Chilchuck Merely Shrugged And Said That It Was A Paid Holiday, So I May As Well Wait, Before Downing Another Pint Of Alcoholic Swill.

I Still Attempted To Ask Around, If Only To Set Up An Appointment For The Day After The Festivities, But Have Had Little Luck. Of Those Familiar With The Dungeon, Most Had A Sort Of Mockery About Vans, Espousing Upon Childish Temper Borne From Height. Of Those Who Worked With Him, They Had Not Been In Recent Contact. Of Those Who Worked For Him, They Seemed To Only Have Expressions Of Bruised Ego And Ungrateful Lives Saved By His Hand.

Skaia, While Holding Many Depths, Is Not A Particularly Large Island. Just Who And Where Is This Fucking Guy?

[dungeonbent]

more than you can chew

"So you want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon..." Laios muses, nursing the overly sweetened ale that you've just bought a round of.

At first, your impression of the man had been somewhat less than stellar. The easy-going air he has about him, coupled with the enthusiastic way he asked about your home in the western capitol and his overly friendly demeanor, made you slightly wary. But now that business talk has started, he seems to be giving it serious thought.

Laios asks, "Could I maybe get a timeframe on that?"

You say, "I was hoping to enter within the month." You don't have much more time than that. Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you think things might just work out.

Then Laios Touden says, "Yeah, uh. I think we'll have to turn you down on this one?"

He smiles apologetically, as if he hasn't just dashed your heart straight onto the rocks. You stare at him in shock, letting the ambient noise of the tavern and its festival-going patronage fill the silence between you as you struggle to grasp onto what could have possibly gone wrong.

You start to say, "If it's about the money, I can always-"

"Ah- it's really not about the money, I promise!" Laios says, holding his hands up. "It's just... okay, how do I put this..."

You allow some time for the tallman to articulate his response, hands tightening around your own mug. You don't even like to drink. But within the Festival of Lost Hearts, there seems to be some invisible decree that states all of those who so much as step out into the sun ought to have some syrupy alcoholic bullshit liable to destroy more relationships than just that of the body and its liver.

Laios doesn't get to formulate his full response, because his companion takes a pause from downing some of that alcoholic bullshit to cut in with a dry, "Yeah, what you're describing just isn't logistically reasonable."

"How so?" You ask, peeved. You think you've laid out the relevant points quite succinctly, actually. You even provided flow charts! No one can deny you when you have pictures! You are sure there is a law somewhere that says this.

The half-foot- Chilchuck, you think- leans forward, looking entirely unimpressed. "You want us to take you to the bottom of the dungeon on, and I quote, a 'research mission-slash-treasure hunt-slash-general dungeon things', trip. Do you have any idea how vague that all is?"

"That's what this diagram is for," You say, starting to rifle through your papers, "I really have it all well divvied out-"

"And you're basing this off a book?" Chilchuck presses, leaning up to plant an elbow on the table and stare you down. "What makes you think it's even accurate, exactly?"

"I'll have you know that it's written by a very reputable source," You say, trying to keep your hackles from rising. "You can check with all the scholars- R.L. Theras really did disappear in Skaia dungeon--"

"Yeah," Chilchuck interrupts, "and some guy took the real story of some missing adventurers and decided to make a quick buck."

You scoff. Theras's writing style is far too lyrical to be merely any charlatan off the street. "To say such a thing sounds to me like a lack of experience. Perhaps you should live a few more years before making that assertion?"

Chilchuck scowls, the ale sloshing in his skein as he gestures with it, "I am plenty fucking experienced-!"

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Laios cuts in, putting a large hand on Chilchuck's narrow shoulder. Chilchuck turns a glare towards him as he says, "Chilchuck here's one of the best lockpicks you're gonna get. He's more than experienced." That seems to mollify the smaller man somewhat, though not for long, as Laios continues, "That being said, assuming that the book is real-"

"- are you trying to get scammed again?" Chilchuck hisses, but you elect to ignore him since you... suppose it might make sense why this would seem like a scam, to someone who thought R. L. Theras's work to be fiction.

Laios glances at Chilchuck and Chilchuck appears to back down, sinking back into his seat with a grumble. Laios continues, "Assuming that the book is real, you're not giving us much time to prepare, and no clear goal to actually prepare for. It's like... just asking us to bring a bunch of rations down and survive, and nothing else."

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask.

Laios and Chilchuck both look at each other. You do not appreciate whatever secret message they appear to be communicating to each other with their eyes. You wish you had any kind of mental magic to take a peek into what it could be. Or any magic at all.

"Say, Kanaya," Laios says, "have you ever actually... been to a dungeon?"

"Not before yesterday." You say honestly, "But I've been reading about them."

"Okay, so. The big thing about making a trip into a dungeon successful is having a clear plan on how long you're in the dungeon, and how you're going to get out. How long did it take R. L. to get to the bottom?"

Is this a pop quiz now? Somewhat confused, you answer, "Two months."

"And their only goal was to reach the bottom of the dungeon," Laios says, "No layovers for extra research and no extra treasure hunting. So how long do you think it'll take to reach the bottom if you have all that other stuff to do on top of it?"

You start to deflate. "... Longer."

"And getting back?"

"Does your sister not have a teleportation spell...?"

"If she can't use it for whatever reason, I mean."

You feel like sinking into the floor. "Even longer."

"There you go," Chilchuck says, raising his glass. "What you're asking for assumes that nothing's going to happen and that nothing will go wrong. In the dungeon where everything goes wrong constantly. That's a death wish."

You're starting to feel rather foolish, and rather desperate. You know you haven't been entirely forthcoming about the true nature of your desired trip into the dungeon, but even still...

"What if," You ask, despite yourself, "it was to... save someone?"

This catches Laios's attention. He asks, gently, "Save who...?"

"I don't know." And that's the truth.

Chilchuck heaves a sigh and says, "Well, that'd need even more planning- unless you know the exact place their corpse is- and who the corpse even is- you could be canvasing those floors for weeks..."

"What if they're alive?" You ask.

Chilchuck clicks his tongue. "Yeah. That's... kind of doubtful." He pauses, then sets his mug aside. "Sorry. We really wouldn't be able to help you with that."

You all lapse back into silence and you stare at your plans, trying to figure out how you can still salvage this. Porrim gave you six months to find what you've come for in Skaia's dungeon, and you know that if you don't leave in time, the Canaries may well follow. The Touden party are the most qualified party you've spoken to today. If they think this is an impossible task...

"Hey," Laios says, "wanna get something to eat? My treat!"

"Oh, no," You start, "I couldn't possibly-"

"You may as well eat something- it's not like there's anything else to do at a party," Chilchuck says, starting to flag down someone carrying two large trays of bowls, weaving through the throng of unruly patrons.

You have no recourse to deny the men their meager offer of comfort. You're still slightly bitter at having been shut down so soundly, but the stew that's served is warming. It is a dish the locals call 'bukenade', bowl filled with tender pieces of goat meat falling apart under the slightest pressure of a spoon into a savory, fragrant broth which seemed tinged with just the barest hint of sweetness from verjus.

It's only somewhat into the meal, after you start to feel a bit better, when Chilchuck clears his throat and offers, "You talk to Vans yet?"

"Hm?" You hum through a mouthful of food, covering your mouth as you're caught mid-chew like a startled animal.

"For your job." Chilchuck adds.

You swallow and shake your head. Though the name does sound somewhat familiar for some reason... "I don't know who that is."

"So there's this guy," Chilchuck says, and you nod, because you did assume it was some kind of guy. "His name's Karkat Vans. He and his lockpick buddy have a party together. Can't say I see eye to eye with him on everything, but... kid's good at what he does. He gets people to listen to him." Chilchuck leans back, "If he can do that, he might be able to help you out."

There's a glimmer of hope that strikes you when you hear that. You look at Chilchuck and say, "I'll have to do that. Thank you, Chilchuck... sir." Gods, you sound so awkward. You hope he doesn't say anything.

Chilchuck doesn't say anything, but he does roll his eyes a little. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it."

[dungeonbent]

Dear Porrim,

My Morning Has Been So Utterly Consumed In Conversation With The... I Struggle To Call Them Friends Per Se, Since They're So Fucking Weird- The Acquaintances I've Made On Skaia That I Had Forgotten To Speak With Sir Egbert, Whose Home I Admittedly May Have Stormed From The Night Before.

I Only Mention This Because I Believe I May Have Erred Against Him.

When I Finally Left The Home Of Feferi, A Beastman Of Most Fantastical Make, I Went Into Town To Find A Quick Lunch To Make Up For My Forgetting To Breakfast. My Mind Was Duly Preoccupied. Then, As Though The Gods Were Set Against Me, I Had No Sooner Stepped Into The Square When I Spied Sir Egbert Entreating A Local Shopkeep For The Whereabouts Of An Elf Of My Description, A Sheen Of Sweat Upon His Brow.

It Was Upon Seeing His Face As He Found Me That I Remembered Two Things: Sir Egbert's Daughter Disappeared, Never To Be Seen Again, And I Did Not Return Last Night.

The Worst Part Is, He Did Not Reprimand Me. He Merely Asked That I Join Him For Dinner. Then, When I Could Barely Get Out An Affirmative, He Slowly Turned Away And Left.

What Should I Have Done, Porrim? What Could I Have Said When This Man Had Turned So Sorrowful A Gaze Upon Me?

I Miss You More Than You Could Ever Believe.

Wishing You Better Luck Than Mine,

Kanaya

[dungeonbent]

Dear Ms Maryam,

We hear you're in the market for a dungeoneering party, and boy do we have the party for you! We're a three-woman band of like-minded elves looking to get to the bottom of this dungeon and seal it once and for all, before those meddling Canaries can stake their claim. We have everything an elf can need, like magic! Rations! And.

There aren't many elves left on Skaia, Ms. Maryam. Don't you think we should all stick together?

If you want to set up a meeting, bring all your money- and your lovely self!- to the bottom of the cliff just off the side of the shore. We can really get to know each other there!

Best,

a concerned friend

Hello.

I Am Not Doing That.

Kanaya

[dungeonbent]

Kanaya Maryam

I hope this letter finds you well.

I have heard about your death to the hands of a ghost, and you are ponder why such a ghost would not posses you.

the answer is that ghosts are simalar to a out of tune instrument.

ghosts all have a song that they know but the more out of tune the instrument is, the more “wild” a ghost is. on top of that not all ghosts have the power of possession, some stay in the twilight between life and death, attaching themselves to objects that remind the ghost of life.

But a DM(Dungoen master) might use ghosts and fetter them to certain areas to prevent folk form coming to an area, in which case they act more like “living” traps

I hope this helps you out.

PS

I have heard you can use ghosts to make a sorbet of sorts, but I would think you would need some communal wine for that task.

Hello,

This Has, In Fact, Helped Me Immensely. It Does Make Me Slightly Worried About If I Do Find A Ghost Whose Song Is Closer To The Instrument Of My Body, As It Were, But This Is Relieving Nonetheless!

As I Write This Reply, However, I Cannot Help But Spy One Of My Current Companions Looking Ever So Lightly Out Of Sorts As She Reads Your Letter. Aradia Keeps Saying Something About 'Instrumentalist Scholarship' And About There Being Several Common Misconceptions Due To It. Also Something About Soul Eggs. None Of These Things Mean Anything To Me.

I Will Choose To Believe You Fullheartedly, Since The Alternative Is That A Ghost Wants Me Very Dead For Some Reason, Which Is Scary As Presumably My Chainsaw Will Not Work On It.

(The Sorbet Tidbit Is Also... Interesting. At Least Feferi Appears To Think So...)

Thank You For Taking The Time Out Of Your Day To Write. It Is Greatly Appreciated.

Best,

Kanaya Maryam

P.S. Feferi And Eridan Had To Bodily Restrain Aradia From Penning This Reply Instead Of Me. I Hope These Words Of Mine Are Sufficient.

[dungeonbent]

Kanaya, do you have any recipes to share?

Hello To You Anonymous Sender,

I Am Afraid That I Do Not. I Am Not Accustomed To Cooking, And More Than That, I Have Found That Many Tend To Find Elvish Cuisine Quite............ Flat.

I Have Floated The Idea Of Attaching The Recipe To Elf Cake To This Letter But Both Of My Current Hosts Are Shaking Their Heads At Me.

All The Best,

Kanaya

[dungeonbent]

Log The 50th. A Most Unexpected Guest Came To Feferi's Door As The Lot Of Us Were Deeply Embroiled In Our Theorizing Over Possible Murderous Intent. I Scarcely Had Time To Pull My Journal Out To Record The Details.

It Was A Dwarven Maid Who, Were I Forced To Guess At Knifepoint, Appeared To Be In Her 110s; Her White Beard Was Most Excellently Braided, Blending With The Pale Curls Peeking From Under Her Jaunty Courier's Hat As She Held Out A Small Bundle Of Letters, Proclaiming Merrily, "Mail!"

"oh!" Feferi Had Said, Pretty Eyes Alight, "i forgot it was about that time, A.M.!!"

"Oh, no, ma'am," Said The Dwarf Most Cheerily, "I am P.M., now! You all certainly slept in late, hm?"

As Feferi Exclaimed Her Shock At How Long Our Conversation Had Evidently Gone, As Eridan Huffed About And Lolled His Head Onto The Kitchen Table, Aradia Asked If I Knew What Was Going On. I Did, For R. L. Theras Had Detailed The Phenomenon In Her Guide Book, In A Section I Had Often Glossed Over In Rereads Due To Its Apparent Silliness.

Elves Might Have Laid Claim To Canaries For The Warning Call, But The Dwarves Had Laid Claim To A Different Bird; For Once Upon A Time, In Grand Old Prospit, They Had Decreed That The Messenger Was The Most Holy Of Attendants, Guards Of The Free Flow Of Information.

A Nightingale Had Come To Visit. And She Bore Letters Addressed To... Me?

[dungeonbent]

Log The 49th. After Recounting The Majority Of My Ordeal The Night Before, There Was A Hush That Fell Across My Newfound Companions. Each Looked Within The Face Of The Other, Their Bewilderment And Unease Plain To See, Before Feferi Leaned Forward And Asked, "are you shore this is your first time on the island?"

I Replied That Yes, I Was Positive. I Had Only Read Of The Dungeon In Words, Fed Only Upon The Barest Of Whispers. The Elves Of The West Regarded Skaia As Somewhat Of A Cold Case, To My Understanding; A Dungeon That Had Yet To Reach The Point Of Needing To Be Contained.

If Feferi Is To Be Believed- As I Am Given To Believing So- She Found My Corpse Frozen To The Stone Masonry. Once I Was Found, She Sent Eridan To Fetch Aradia, As She Was To Be My Exorcist.

Aradia Did Not Need To Exorcise Me. The Ghost Never Attempted To Complete The Possession; She Never Even Tried To Nestle Herself In My Flesh. But That Cannot Be Right- For If One Is To Go Off Of Aradia's Explanation, A Ghost Necessarily Attempts Possession As A Desperate Act To Gain A Physical Body. This Is The Nature Of The Dead Chained Within The Accursed Dungeon Of Skaia Who Have Lost The Home Of Their Bones.

Aradia Then Informed Me, "a l0t 0f the gh0sts i've seen 0n the upper fl00rs have l0ng since l0st their minds... they usually don't speak."

The Chill Sank Deeper Into My Bones Then. If It Was Not Instinct That Drove The Ghost, Then Could It Be That It

[dungeonbent]

so what was that about ghosts and ectoplasm Aradia?

"Oh, thanks for asking!" says Aradia, grinning wildly. It appears ominous to everyone involved.

"Sorry-" Kanaya quickly says while Feferi and Eridan sit by, seemingly already resigned, "You really, really don't have to explain further- my fairy sometimes picks up a stray signal--"

Aradia, who hasn't been listening at all, says, "Just don't regret it, okay~? And before we get to your question, we have to ask:

why would a ghost make ooze?"

"Simply put, every living thing needs ooze to survive! All humans and demihumans are at the end of the day are bags of meat and fluid, walking around in harmony with their souls!

So what happens when a ghost possesses a body? Simply put, it tries to synchronize with your body the same way your soul is already synchronized! But just like how a body can only hold so many fluids, a body can only hold so many souls- thus, the creation of ectoplasm upon contact with a living host!

You can consider ectoplasm to be a sort of refuse that forms when the invading soul attempts to synchronize itself with the target of possession. A lot of excess fluids- excess saliva, excess tears and mucus, even excess urine!- become forced out of the body through our various orifices, especially as the death process is accelerated! It's as though the ghost instinctually knows it must create these fluids to maintain the body, but the death process tends to stop that in its tracks.

The real big thing is, it's actually really rare to find ectoplasm in its fluid state! This is because ectoplasm is structured so that as soon as it leaves the warmth of a still living host, it freezes into a solid ice state. Essentially, while the ectoplasm might fill your mouth or come pouring out your eyes, its creation itself doesn't necessarily kill you! What really kills you is being frozen to death!

This serves the second purpose of maintaining the body somewhat in its second life as a ghoul, as the ice will stall the decomposition process for a time! As more and more fluid is lost, the ghoul stops being preserved quite so well, leading to its famously horrific stench as it slowly rots into an ambulated set of walking bones!

Of course, it's rare for adventurers in the upper levels to become ghouls, since clerics and corpse retrievers tend to come around often. Which is good! It means that the majority of corpses possessed can be brought in for revival without much fuss!

Still... there is an experiment I'd like to try......

Just once... Just once, I'd like to collect some of the ice that forms on someone being possessed and melt it down, keeping it nice and human-body temperature in a special magic temperature-controlled container... and then after I revive the person, I want to see if giving them their ectoplasm back will help replenish the strength they'd lost!"

There is a ringing silence in the wake of Aradia's lecture.

Eridan looks positively green and Kanaya isn't feeling any better. Feferi's smiling, but it simply doesn't reach her eyes.

"Wow, Aradia...!" Feferi says, putting her hands together, "That shore is... interesting...." She says this with the air of a woman mentally picturing herself beating someone with hammers.

"If that's interestin' to you people," Eridan mutters, "I don't see how any of us are survivin'."

Kanaya says flatly, "Next time it might be better to keep this academic expertise to yourself, Miss Aradia."

"Aha! Sorry," She rubs the back of her neck, and when she smiles so widely it's so utterly charming that Kanaya is having a hard time staying disgusted. "This kind of talk isn't for everyone, huh? That being said... Miss Maryam..."

Aradia takes Kanaya's hands. Her dark eyes glitter as she asks, "When you die next time, can I take some of your ectoplasm-"

"Under no circumstances."