“Father, I refuse to let this coin monger anywhere near your branches. Could you create somewhere we can converse?” Esme says as her little leaf-like wings let her settle on a root near the Heartwood.
“I must agree. A place to negotiate and plan is essential for proper discourse, Father,” says a silver hatchling with bright orange eyes, who somehow makes the adorable hatchling walk look regal.
“Ah, but ladies, why waste resources on such things, unless you plan to rent the place out after? Actually, never mind, I think I saw some empty places that would be perfect for this idea. Father, please give them their fancy hall or whatever, it’ll keep all the profits coming my way,” says the black scaled rotund kobold who seems to be appraising everything around him.
I go ahead and create a large hall, well, large for hatchlings and kobolds. Humans would find the seats terrible. The hall rises from a root of the Heartwood, grown into shape as though the tree anticipated the request. The walls are made of Heartwood plank—warm, pale-golden wood with veins of glowing green—and the scent is somewhere between petrichor and spring honey. Light filters in through leaf-shaped skylights, and moss-grown cushions ring a large round table. The floor thrums faintly with safe zone magic, tuned to recognize court representatives and bar unwanted adventurers from entry.
“Let's hope I don’t need more decoration for the floor. But it's done, and you all can come sit down. I’d like to talk to you about our plans and how this place is supposed to work.” As I speak, Esme flutters along and takes a seat. “Father, this is excellent, and I hope we can all focus on growing rather than scorching while here.” Thalia looks around the hall as if it weren’t her first diplomatic meeting place and is judging it. “This will do, the seating is all wrong, but the table is large enough for more courts, and no one can pretend they are more important.”
“If we are complimenting Father’s work, I have to say the lack of snacks, ledgers, or a vault makes it feel lacking, but it has the vibes of somewhere important things are discussed, so we can probably sell tickets once it's in full operation. But Father asked us to chat about the plans, not his architecture. Personally, Father, I’d think step one was obvious: we need more kobolds to staff this place. I’d estimate at least a good fifty if we want the town to look a bit empty, but functional. We need shops and taverns, and don’t forget the money makers. Adventurers are going to want an inn or a storage place. My guys got the latter covered already, though. I do need to know what the public story is, though, important for branding and that lore for coin deal I was planning.” Snaggletooth says as he hops into a chair with the grin of someone about to get everything they want.
Stolen story; please report.
“While I deplore his phrasing, Father, I do think he has a point. We all know the nature of this place and our role, but unless they need to know, future denizens don’t need to, and adventurers are better off thinking this place is truly tied to its myth.” Esme states while glaring at Snaggletooth.
“It would be easy to claim the dungeon’s floors are closed by setting up Heartwood gates along the edges of town and keeping them closed. We claim a terrible conflict is going on, and Nestroot sealed itself off to protect the Heartwood and our thrones, of course. Surely Father can manipulate his roots whenever he wants?”
“Thalia is a brilliant little hatchling, and if I could give her a head pat, I would…. Fuck, I need to figure out how to hide my thoughts from you three. Well, may as well own it. Thalia, you are correct, and I will shamelessly steal it for our early chapters. Though it won’t hold up long, we are doing a massively multiplayer roguelike here, and I refuse to force people to repeat content that is no longer meaningful, even if I could figure out how to do it. We will act as if this isn’t a dungeon, the system won’t rat us out, and anyone who can identify a dungeon will be hard pressed to explain why we are so different. So the Dragon Queen is canon, and no one breathes a word of dungeonness. If I hear about you selling that info, Snaggletooth, I will drop a gold-eating insect into your hoard.” Snaggletooth looks both appalled and insulted.
“I would never sell off classified information without approval. That said, I agree with the roadmap and would like to request official permission to open some gambling dens around town. We could even use them to fulfill the meta reward for our opening checklist, Father. Win, Win right?” He says, slowly shifting from kicked puppy face to seedy used car salesman.
“Father, I must protest such depravity; this filth would rot your roots. Please consider the hatchlings; this town is mostly hatchlings, and its primary role in lore is to care for them. It makes no sense to establish such businesses.” Esme’s voice chokes on business as if she feels the idea of gambling dens being a business disgusts her.
“Esme is right. It would set a bad example if such a place were in the hatchling-accessible areas. I’ll pretend it's not there if I find a back alley building in the upper reaches of the skull market, though. Just remember that Esme has to approve that it's hatchling-proof. I’ll leave it to you to come up with a reward for your winners, just remember that it's coming out of your hoard.” Esme looked like she was attempting to inhale her own frustration, wings fluttering sharply. But she nodded, slowly.
Snaggletooth, naturally, was already grinning. “Not a problem, Father, I had this wonderful little scheme involving ‘Fortune Tokens’. I don’t plan for many to ever get them, but they’ll exist, which is the important part.”
I sighed. Or rather, I radiated an odd vibration of mild regret and begrudging admiration through the Heartwood. Either way, they got the idea. “Alright, now that we have that out of the way, we need to discuss classes and how I want to handle the adventurers since we are pretending not to be a dungeon.”
Mechanics Content
