He woke up in his pile of sheats, looking at the door nothing had changed the scavenged rope still held around the torch holder.
Getting up, his spear sunk into the ground as he used it to pull himself upward. His legs were still unwieldy and refused to bend the right ways when he wanted them to but he could stand. His legs still ended in a stringy nub, which would not help when he would get walking down.
This is so screwed up, I don’t particularly care too much since I just woke up. But I have nubs… nubs for feet do they even count as feet.
Moving toward the door he paused and listened, the rustling of bugs across the floor had stopped. That concerned him, it would be too quiet to be moving around like he did. But he would have to risk stepping onto the dry rotted wood. Each step causes it to break down further, one particular step had his foot crashing through the wood reverberating through the empty hallway.
Looking down the hallway, the intersection he was coming toward didn’t show any signs of movement.
Either the bugs were asleep or something else was moving. Tom hated this sort of tension, it was so unnecessary he wished something happened already so he could do something about this creeping sensation of dread wriggling through his skull.
Passing curtain after curtain got stale after a while so he started keeping track of how far he had gone and the turns he would take. He went down the left instead of the right either way he would still find an exit eventually. Each step another creak in the wood, he didn’t crash through the wood this time hopefully it was a rare occurrence.
None of the doors he had opened stood out to him, more broken boxes. More turns leading to nowhere.
I’m starting to think this might not be the way out. I have left several doors open and looked inside. I swear I've seen that particular set of broken boxes before. But when I backtrack those doors are still open and nothing has changed, does that mean that these are copies?
He came across another safe room, broken bed, ruined sheets. Except this time he had an idea, his feet, hooves?
Still stringy and raw, no sensations to be felt but he was sure walking around on them wasn’t good for them healing. So he grabbed the broken bed posts and broke them up further. Facepalming himself he felt his hand hit something flat and smooth ignoring the spike of panic he felt. He continued on with what he was doing.
Grabbing some more sheets and using these smaller pieces of bedposts he made a makeshift tourniquet. Making sure to use the pieces of wood to make sure it was tight enough.
Looking around the hallways, he noticed more torch holders. Grabbing them with a surprising amount of strength he ripped them off the wall. Then he grabbed seven more for his project, floors creaked as he moved somewhat quickly to complete his task. After putting them in a pile along with some sheats he felt like he was missing something. Shambling outside he grabbed some curtains, the window showed a forest. Pausing to take it in he looked further and saw a grey sky…
No I know what that is, that isn’t a sky it’s the ceiling inside a stone cavern. Looking close I can see Stalactites hanging from the roof. I guess this is still a dungeon but what the hell, how big is this thing?
He grabbed the holders and snapped them into two pieces, the more round part, and the stick. Using four sticks and wrapped curtain and sheet around them and attached to his leg. He intermittently tied the curtain and sheet together to make a solid framework for support for his legs. Tapping the metal sticks he thought they sounded sturdy enough for what he was trying to do.
Taking a shaky step, the floor barely holding his newfound way to walk.
On the plus side I am no longer walking on an open wound, downside is I still have an open wound. The flesh inside looks less pink and more blue, with the bone a very dark grey or black shiny, wet, and dripping occasionally. My blood was a sickly sweet shade of purple with some black running through it that didn't smell good. It dripped and pooled beneath him on occasion when he stopped occasionally after a long walk. I didn’t feel faint so he must not have lost a lot of essential fluid. I was an idiot. I should have treated this first, but no still somewhat thought this was a dream.
With his newfound height he had to duck a little under the doorway before being able to make it out into the hallway.
Grabbing more curtains he fashioned a makeshift shift and skirt. Another curtain was cannibalised to make a backpack for yet more curtains. Taking another two the first he used to make a longer pack in which he stuffed multiple pieces of wood, using his fingers he cut the next into long stripes a couple of which he used to secure his bags. The rest he shoved into his backpack.
Tom wondered if he should grab some more but ultimately decided there were curtains in every hallway so if need be he could just grab some.
Continuing on with his journey he attempted to find a new room.
It has been what feels like hours and I still have found not one forsaken room in this abandoned piece of crap bug infested place. That isn’t the exact same as the ones before it, it is so frustratingly stupid that the pattern I have noticed is five broken box rooms followed by one empty room and 2 more patterns down there is one bedroom room.
There is no kitchen, no wardrobe, and certainly most of all no bathrooms!
My next plan before I pass out without warning is to make it outside through one of these windows and search the forest for a lake or pond, or really any water. And then search for some animal traps, if there are great if not I will quietly scream inside.
He didn’t expect there to be animals under here, beneath who knows how many layers of solid rock. But there were trees, and hopefully that meant some kind of animal. If not he would have to come back here. And eat the mysterious insects he hadn’t seen a lick of but heard all through his stay here.
The next skittering, rustling, or crawling heard was going to be met with either the spear or a claw-like hand.
Looking at the window he noticed through the murky glass that it was the same brightness outside as he had last seen. And that it had a wooden frame, and was not just glass and stone. Forcing his fingers into the side of the window inside the wooden frame he tensed and with one hand pulled forcefully and slowly outward toward himself. The glass cracked and the wooden frame groaned before a couple of seconds of pulling had the glass shattering and the wood falling to the ground in a clatter. This window was a small one.
The others had been large enough to get his body through, but he hadn’t wanted to risk large glass shard falling on him.
This window was large enough to get both shoulders through with some squeezing. Brushing his hand along the hole to get any remaining glass off. He poked his head through and looked down, grabbed a loose piece of flooring and dropped it he had barely counted to one.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Assuming gravity was still around the same and defaulting to ten meters per second that fall was maybe eight to nine feet. Not an excessively long fall but I should probably drop my spear first and take off my new ‘shoes’.
Reaching through quickly and dropping his spear and eyeing it just long enough to make sure it wasn’t pointed up. He took off his new shoes and dropped them as well, making sure to mine the tourniquet a couple inches above the raw flesh. He looked out yet again to make sure the landing was safe and dropped.
Tom barely took a breath before his rear met the ground in an astonishing reunion.
Wow, I still feel little to no sensation luckily I had the presence of mind not to land on my stumps. Let's take stock of my body and maybe check out what my body feels like…
Reaching toward his legs he took a look at his stumps, they appeared to have clotted or was that the improper term considering he wasn’t sure if what he had was actually blood.
Screw the technicalities or anything more intelligent right now, let's figure out what I look like.
His legs felt unnaturally smooth, and solid as his skin still felt rough. Reaching further up he grabbed his knee and bent it both ways, he still wasn’t sure the exact extent it could bend in all four directions but that looked normal enough. His hips twisted a probably acceptable amount, his wrists felt fine, his spine probably wasn’t supposed to bend like that as a human but could still move normally.
When he was feeling his spine he noticed an oddity he had three points on his back that jutted outward. One at the base probably a tail, one in the upper middle which was probably wings or something and one in the middle.
Reaching up toward his face hesitantly.
Do I even want to feel this…. probably not but best not to chicken out now while it’s relatively safe.
His face was smooth… in one way to describe it. He had no nose and he had to open his mouth to even know if was there. And only when he brushed his hands over his eyes did he realise that they were just as smooth as the rest of his face. Reaching upward he noticed something strange.
When he reached up his vision felt off, only when he reached up with both hands did he finally put down that feeling of offness.
I ‘see’, ha puns the answer to all my mental health issues currently.
I have two sets of eyes, one set next to where my nose should be, and the other set where my eyes would have normally been.
Taking a second to experiment he realised that yes, he could now look independently through four different directions at once. Tom almost giggled to himself in realisation that yes indeed he could move all of them independently. He must have been subconsciously using them how he normally did. About five minutes went by of him covering his mouth as he hysterically laughed inside his head.
That's not that funny….
Reaching up toward where his hair should be, he felt the beginnings of something along with seven bumps along his forehead. Two more toward the front, two in the middle, another two trailing behind them. And one singular bump around the start of where his spine and skull met.
Done with his little self done info dump on what he felt when he was trying to make out what his body might look like. He grabbed his shoes and put them on. Taking a look at them he brilliantly deduced that he would need to bend them some more. Although not sharp they were starting to cut into his new skin. He grabbed where they met skin and bent them more outward, he strained a little bit, maybe he still felt foggy on what exactly his body was feeling. Just like his thoughts, some things he felt like he should remember like his last name. And most of his teenage years, although that could be his natural memory.
Taking note of the treeline as he grabbed his spear and made his way on foot. Each one was similar, not in a this is the same species sort of way more like it’s the exact same tree just facing a different direction.
Making a passing note of that he dragged his feet while walking to leave a small barely visible path.
Every stick along the way was the same as the trees around him. Same coloration, just a different rotation or direction some at a smaller scale than others. He knew he should be feeling a sensation of dread or at least he normally would. But he only felt a small tingling note of wariness inside his mind. No physical notion that he should be feeling that way.
There is no sun here, so I will have to rely on my trail to know the way back. The ground here has a subtle illumination along with the leaves on these trees. All these branches twisted and turned pretty much the same way. If I dedicated the time to it and counted all the leaves I’m sure each tree would have the exact same amount. Not only am I mildly upset but I am questioning how this is possible, these aren’t any trees I know of. Each tree is some weird mix of a fir tree, a birch, an oak and some sort of fruit tree.
Reaching upward somewhat he grabbed a fruit, and proceeded to crush one against the skin of his right hands pinky finger.
It will take a while to know whether or not these are safe…
His trek went on for quite some time, his watch being gone still sent pangs of something through his body. He didn’t particularly like that watch, and his memory on why was still fuzzy and shifted inside his skull like thick glue. His mouth was still dry, and now knowing he had no nose it made sense why it felt clogged.
It wasn’t even there… or was located on a completely different location in his body or perhaps his skin skin doesn’t have a dead top layer and is porous enough.
He couldn’t tell and was busy trying to find drinkable water.
The ground after a while started to give way to mud, he hoped he would find it before his wound got submerged.
Actuuuallllly that brings a thought to mind… didn’t I watch a show at some point that putting mud on a wound was okay as long as it is clean. Well I was probably half asleep and it needs to be somewhat clean most likely, but this forest looks generated and the soil might not have enough harmful bacteria that it's okay.
Ignoring the possibility of mud getting on his wound he continued trekking deeper and further into the mud as it gradually became deeper.
He started sinking to his knees in mud, now normally he would have found this somewhat disgusting at least the sensation. But with his brain and body probably being how they are he didn’t mind so much how it felt this time. Better than when he tried to run his hand through that water in the city, he never could get rid of the phantom feeling of being unclean.
Eventually he found some mostly clear water after he continued on for a bit and the mud gave way to more solid ground. He wasn’t sure if the ground was supposed to work like that but that would give time for the mud on his legs to dry.
Sitting by the newly found river of water he started to think about what had happened so far.
I have found some food and water now, the water is running or moving and should be safe to drink. I haven't felt a reaction to the fruit he had rubbed on his pinky. I still am of the mind that normal fruit is not striped like a particularly out of the way suit that a nine year old got their hands on. Things in nature aren’t normally sky blue either, that is reserved for I dunno the sky.
How does fruit mutate in such a way, did it just ask nature or this thing that I refuse to call a system because it hasn’t benefited me yet. Who even kidnaps someone and is upset when they don’t have permissions. Although this thing doesn’t have emotions as I didn’t hear any sort of tone, I just felt the words inside my head.
With how sleep deprived I was during that I'm of the mind that there is something odd about that.
[The Dungeon Welcomes you Explorers]
What does it want now?
[This marks the 24 hour mark since you arrived in the Dungeon]
[If you swipe your hand with two fingers extended you will be able to open your Options with your Permissions]
I thought I didn’t have permissions, better yet I know this has probably been going on for longer than I’ve been here why did this pop up now.
[Several errors have been fixed, and certain functions have been made available for Creatures of a certain awareness up]
[Explorers will have access to a communications platform, while Monsters will be able to keep track of Missions given to them by either their Patrons or their personal ones if they so choose]
Does Patron mean what I think it means, this situation is soooooo-
[Explorers it is hoped and encouraged that your clear your Dungeons as soon as you can]
[This is your Warning, errors are being fixed and locations may change and Monsters may appear or disappear in locations affected by an error]
[This S???o???m???e???t???h???i???n???g???/__-/U/s-er In-ter_face is Adapting to new Circumstances]
[Explorers the Dungeon Welcomes You]
[This marks the end of Day One, for further time keeping open Options]
That confirms things, some other things have disturbing implications. Most of which I will ignore as right now I need to drink water and get some shut eye preferably up in a tree tied up so I don’t fall down.
Should we do a poll every ten chapters?
