Chapter 42: 42. Dawn

When the light of dawn strokes your face, you're momentarily confused. Did you not make it back to your lair yesterday? Why are you not deep within the structure? You murmur to yourself in irritation that the light wont let you sleep, and then freeze.

A deep growl had just echoed around you. You feel the soft bodies of Sapphire and Feathers tense, one on either side of you, and you try to unobtrusively wake them. No point dealing with this newest threat alone if you dont have to, after all.

Carefully, you open one eye, and then the other. You're still outside, on the cliff above your lair. You can't see any creature nearby that could have been the sauce of the growl, but that means little, you admit to yourself. Your perception has never been your strongest stat.

Sapphire starts to shift next to you, and you trust her to grasp the situation quickly. Without another thought, you leap to your feet, and scan the area for the interloper. Or at least you try to. What happens instead is you leap far, far higher than you expected, half cartwheel in the air, and crash into the earth with a thud, leaving you staring at a sleepy looking kobold/gobliness pair. Feathers is looking uncomprehendingly at you, her hair sticking up in every direction. Sapphire is struggling not to laugh.

They're both very... small.

“There's som-” you went to warn them of the danger, but choke yourself off when you hear your own voice. It's different. Deeper. You pause for a few seconds, and then very deliberately murmur.

A bass rumble emerges from your chest. It echoes from the surrounding stones.

“Oh.”

You take a slow step, and then another, turning in a tight circle. You never used to have that much tail. The scales like long thorns were new too. Your wings, bigger. Your claws longer. You sit back on your haunches, and nearly fall as new instincts on how to sit come to the forefront. Instead of the catlike grace you're used to, you rear back, your weight on your spine instead of your forelegs.

Your forelegs.. you turn them over in front of you in silent contemplation. They never had this range of motion before, and is that a thumb?

Before you know it, you've hurled yourself from the cliff, leaving your girls behind you. A flap of your wings to slow your fall instead sends you back up at an angle, and your ascent is only stopped as you crash, shoulder first, into the cliff face. Wide eyed, you make your way to the entrance of your lair and walk, dream like, past the staring kobold on guard duty.

Your reflection looks back at you, and you experience a moment of dizzying deja vu.

On the whole, you just look bigger, you reflect at your reflection. Your wings are bigger still, and now look useful, rather than vestigial. Your horn nubs have grown out; one swept back and down on each side of your neck, and a shorter pair curved up above the nape of your neck. The end result was a protective frill of bone that would serve to make near misses with your bites into gouging strikes while protecting your blind spot. Your tail, as you've already discovered, is now a usable weapon. Blinking through an odd sensation in your eyes, you open your character sheet

You catalogue the changes easily enough. A bonus to your physical stats, a penalty to your social ones, and a few minor skill increases. Most interesting whoever were the other changes; your apparent designation increase – you smile somewhat sourly at your new title as Mini-Boss, Because I was doing so well as a micro-boss, and then more genuinely at your species.

Drakelet. Not exactly any more awe inspiring than drakeling, but there was one clear distinction in your mind. Drakelings exist in the wild. Yourself and the one on the other side of the mountain, for instance. Drakes do too. But you've never heard of a Drakelet before. Proof, perhaps, that you're on a path that the gods meant for you?

Finally, you cant help the happy smile as you take in your Winglings ability. It wasn't true, effortless flight, you wouldn't be drifting on the thermals for days at a time. But compared to the gliding that was all you've had before, this was more than you had dared hope for.

“R-Red?”

You turn at the voice, and see Mercy emerging from the sleeping caves. You frown a little – large bags hang under her eyes, and her walk is slow and clumsy.

You nod at her, and walk over. Her hand settles on your shoulder, now level with her stomach.

“You've grown.” she frowns for a moment, squinting at you. A worm of worry wriggles in your gut. Something is pretty clearly off with her. She seems to struggle with words for a few seconds, and then adds, almost as an afterthought

“Bigger.”

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You watch her leave, back the way she came, still with a frown on your face. You remember what she said, on the journey back.

“It's probably best if... When we get to your lair, if I slept away from everyone. Especially you.”

You look around your base once more, and then go on a slow walk, examining it. You head down the stairs into the jail, and inspect the four cells with their crude iron bars, fur sleeping mats and all. You emerge into the light of the sand covered floor of the arena, and hop up into the stands with a single flap, and head through to the area you've mentally designated 'dining room'.

Your minions have done their best without yo – three long tables stretch down the length of the room, with multiple benches acting as seating, but all of it is clearly goblin made. Splinters would be a spire order with every meal here, and somehow you just know that so little has been done to the wood used to make the furniture that you would be able to reclaim it as raw resources with a marginal loss, if any.

Your path takes you into the separate kitchen area, where low firepits sit ready for coal or wood. Currently only a single, corner fire burns. A spit turns slowly, a goblin with a tall hat in what could charitably be called off white and more accurately be descried as puss tended to the meat and flames. He salutes you as you pass, and you answer him with a nod before walking into the alrge cave you'd created with the aim of being a larder, or farm.

The skittering of many legged things reach your ears as you enter. Movement out of the corner of your eye lets you catch a glimpse of a long, chitinous body wind itself around one of the stalagmites that jut from the floor.

You think back to what seems like a lifetime ago.

“What does this dungeon need?” you mutter as you re-emerge into your entrance hall

Then another, pressing thought supersedes that one.

“And how did I evolve without ever choosing the option?”

You bring up your fame menu

Fame: 1014

 

+180 A Hero has Declared you her Nemesis! (Expanded)

Mhæri Flickervin (Level 18) has made it her mission to destroy you!

 

-400 Evolved (Expanded)

-500 evolve form

+100 A God Intervened On Your Behalf

and scan through the options.

Evolve form: 5000 fame

 

You feel the tension drain from your shoulders and form an iron weight in your stomach instead as you let out a shuddering breath.

That raised far more questions than it answered.

Checking your resources, you noted the abundance of stone, wood and scrap that had been gathered in your absence, and turned your eyes towards a new option that had been beating at the back of your mind since you returned to Imporne

Minimum population (10/10), Minimum Rooms (10/10)

Second Level Unlocked!

Upgrade Lair?

200 Fame, 50 Stone, 50 Wood, 50 Metal Ore (Any)

Your claw hovers over 'yes'

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