“In time, such a thing might be possible.” The headmaster stroked his mossy beard thoughtfully. “But first, you must survive. Survive and advance in your classes to get the power you need to reconnect Uroth to the Ashvattha. It is no small thing to do.”
“Survive? Classes? What exactly do you have in store for me?” Logan said slowly. His thoughts flashed back to his time in Iraq. Riding behind a .50 Cal in a steel-ringed turret. Kicking in doors and hurling flashbangs while he and his brothers flooded in through a cloud of smoke, M4 muzzles sweeping the room. If the recruitment process involved being murdered, he couldn’t even imagine what Shadowcroft had prepared. But Logan had gone through some of the toughest training on the planet, and if he could survive that, he could survive this too.
Shadowcroft raised a hand before he could ask any other questions. “In time, all will be revealed. Truly, I wish we had more time to talk, but I am a very busy tree, and you have places to be. I must admit, however, I haven’t enjoyed an interview this much in ages. If ever.”
Logan stood up. “You’re right. Let’s get on with it. I don’t want to get a demerit for being tardy.”
“Sit, young one. As I said, I applaud your zeal, but you can’t use that body for the work we have to do.”
“Why?” Logan asked, eyes narrowing. “It’s served me pretty well up until now. I have two feet, a pair of hands with working digits, and everything in between. Hell, the legs even work.” He stomped them before returning to his seat.
“For one, it’s wholly insufficient for the task to come. For another, it’s not real,” Shadowcroft replied. “In truth, that form you wear is little more than a mask—a construct of light and illusion I conjured to put you at ease during the initial interview. But now... Well, now it is time to shed the old and put on the new. For the mortal to clothe thyself with immortality. Which brings us to the third reason. This is an institute dedicated to dungeon cores. Before you can leave my office, you must pick your guardian form. Then, and only then, can you enter into the academy proper.”
With a flick of his hand, the gem behind Shadowcroft erupted with opalescent light, revealing a crystalline screen of monstrous-looking figures that could’ve been plucked from the pages of any DM manual. Unfortunately, the six creatures all looked like terrible choices to get saddled with: Putrid Ratling. Stink Slime. Muck Crab. Goober Changeling. Anemic Strig. Fungaloid.
Logan squinted, bleakly surveying the first few options. By touching the guardian form, he was able to select the class details.
<<<>>>
Putrid Ratling: Small and aggressive, Putrid Ratlings are a humanoid rat-like creatures that often dwell in small burrows with others of their kind. They are hardworking and industrious in nature and are well known for their ability to make innovative traps, but their fragile bodies and brittle bones mean they are no challenge physically for even the weakest dungeoneers. Putrid Ratlings are bipedal and can utilize simple weapons like swords and shields, but they are severely weakened by sunlight, and dungeoneers with clean hands and good hygiene inflict more damage when attacking.
Because they are so physically weak, they are rarely able to kill even small animals on their own, so rely predominately on scavenging and foraging for meals and supplies. On the plus side, because of their steady diet of carrion, Putrid Ratlings have developed iron-clad stomachs and are immune to almost all poisons and diseases! Moreover, when push comes to shove, they can also summon a small army of feverishly sick rodents to fight at their behest.
Would you like to know more? Yes/No
<<<>>>
No. Logan definitely, totally, completely did not want to know more. The negatives far outweighed the positives on this one, and he seriously didn’t want to lose out to simple handwashing. His gaze skipped to the next option in line.
<<<>>>
Stink Slime: Stink Slimes are amorphous blobs and fill out the lowest rung in the Slime/Ooze evolutionary tree. Since Stink Slimes are both blind and deaf at the Deep Root Level, they have a wide range of severe disadvantages, but they are able to sense nearby creatures through vibrational noise that carries through the ground, allowing them to seek out prey over time.
As Stink Slimes are not particularly fast or agile, catching prey may be difficult, so they secrete a variety of pheromones to lure in small, vulnerable creatures, while conversely utilizing potent stink sacs to scare off more dangerous predators. Using sticky tentacles, they immobilize their prey, then use a weak acid to slowly dissolve the hapless creature over a period of days or even weeks—during which time the slime must remain completely immobile.
Would you like to know more? Yes/No
<<<>>>
This time, he felt the color drain from his face as he read over the description.
Perfect. Great. So, he could go from being a fully functional combat trigger puller to an amorphous puddle of blind and deaf goo that could slowly and ineptly hunt rabbits. Maybe. If he got lucky.
Yeah, hard pass.
“Where are the other choices? The good ones.”
“These are your only choices,” Shadowcroft replied.
“These six. You’re saying I only have those six options?” Logan asked after a moment. “But can I become human again when I’m not in my dungeon?”
Shadowcroft shook his head. “Once you choose your class, you will be forever in that form, though as you progress in your cultivation practices, your body will improve. Assuming you survive long enough to advance.”
Logan studied the six figures: An emaciated rat man in tattered rags. A puddle of stinky goo. A filth-covered, green-shelled crustacean. A grinning little goblin with electric blue skin. A scrawny, bird-like creature with a long proboscis and a bad case of eczema. Terrible. Just terrible. He paused at the last option. A tiny red-and-white mushroom with a dopey grin on his face.
“So my character class, otherwise known as my guardian form, wouldn’t just be Ratling, but a Putrid Ratling.” He let the sarcasm flow. “Cool. Who wouldn’t want to be putrid? I didn’t read everything, but I would imagine my bite would cause a cholera outbreak.”
“Something like that.” The headmaster shifted in his seat. He was getting antsy. Uncomfortable. It was clear he was in a hurry to get somewhere.
Ironic. Shadowcroft wanted to hurry things along. Logan had to pick his new body, which he might have for a long time, if he survived.
“Good thing this isn’t stressful,” he muttered darkly.
“Once you choose your guardian form,” the headmaster explained, “we will take your essence and store it in your core. That core, in turn, will transmute the energy into your guardian form, giving it substance and shape. Material reality.”
“Gee. You don’t say. And, if I understand correctly, I’ll be stuck as a Muck Crab for the rest of my foreseeable life. Dreams do come true.” He was trying to keep his sense of humor.
“You wouldn’t be the small crab you see there forever.” The headmaster tapped the image. “Your form will change and evolve into a greater, more formidable version of the guardian as your core advances from level to level. It is the way of all guardians.”
Logan sat back, thinking. “But why are there only six choices? I’ve played DnD since the seventh grade, and these are all newb monsters for level-one dungeons. Why can’t I pick a dragon or something that doesn’t absolutely suck ass?”