FINAL CORE : [A holy dungeon-core litRPG]

1) My father watches over me from the heavens. I walk in his shadow.

2) My mother ordains me from the whispering depths. I stand in her grace.

3) Holy is the red blood that courses through my hands.

4) Sacred is the firm grip that holds my weapon steady.

5) Divine is the marching of my boots unto foreign soil.

6) Purity awaits my wretched soul.

7) Grace — I will transcend towards.

8) Shadows — I will step unto and dispel.

9) Death — I will be given to it, as I will create for it

10) I do this in the name of my father and my mother

11) - They wait for me in the next life to come

12) Hallow.

 

~ Codex of the Crusade - Psalm 6:1-12

 

 

~ [Crusader Invili] ~
Human, Male, Grand Crusader LEVEL: 100 Location: The Central City, Crusader’s Encampment

 

Wood is hammered into everything all around them.

 

Thousands have gathered here in the central city of the nation, beneath the engulfing, heavy shadow of the world-tree that sits in the heart of the continent. Its roots spread deeply, moving to every corner of the country. Its crown rises up to break the clouds, its heavy, green foliage appearing to be an unnatural part of the sky — as if the blueness of it simply ceased to be and gave way for a forest in this most unnatural place.

 

Metal boots rattle as hundreds march in formation.

 

Grand Crusader Invili sits, knelt down in prayer, as do dozens of his other brothers and sisters of the faith.

 

The time has once again come for his hand to find his weapon, for his boots to find marsh, and for his eyes to find cinders and ash. His fathers watch him from the heavens, his mothers watch him from the whispering depths.

 

The central city is a beautiful, prosperous place. It is blessed by the gods to be a splendid, bountiful garden — a place free of strife and wretchedness. Wealth flows abundantly, as does the hope that tomorrow will be just a kind a day as today.

 

In order to protect this garden of the gods, the snakes must be kept away, the unwanted weeds must be pruned.

 

Invili lowers his head as a shadow comes over him — a lid.

 

Holding his folded hands against his bent knee, he rests his head on them.

 

The lid presses against the back of his head as they close up the box fully. Wood presses against his knelt frame, locking him into position — knelt with a bowed head and clasped hands.

 

Crusader Invili whispers his prayers as they begin to nail the tight crate shut, and then, a moment later, he rises into the air as the journey begins.

 

It will take many days until they reach the south, where the turmoil of sacrilege has once again come bubbling forth.

 

Until then, he will stay here, exactly as he sits — in faith.

 

 

~ [Crusader Legionnaire Nostrae] ~
Human, Female, (Priest + Warlock Advanced-Class) - Inquisitor Location: The Island — Ladder

 

What the hell is this?!

 

Nostrae hangs in the middle of the air, at least a kilometer up in the air, on what is very likely the world’s longest ladder.

 

The exhausted woman exhales, looking up at the island that is still very, very, very far away.

 

The staircase still hasn’t been fixed, since the failed siege, so this is the only way up to the island that she found. But, seriously.

 

Wrapping her arms around the rungs of the ladder, she reaches down, undoes her belt from around her waist, and, very nervously, fastens herself to the ladder so she can let go for a minute and rest her arms.

 

She was tasked by the cardinal to infiltrate the tower and weaken it from the inside. But after a week of gathering information, traveling, and then finally getting here, it hasn’t been going as well as she hoped.

 

— The wind presses past her, wobbling the ladder somewhat and sending a chill through her clothes.

 

She isn’t dressed for this kind of height.

 

Nostrae rests for a moment and then undoes the belt, climbing up further.

 

 

~ [Isaiah] ~

 

Orange flies in. “Isaiah! Isaiah!” says Orange, excitedly. This is not too unusual. She is always very excited about everything — a real bundle of energy.

 

Isaiah turns to look at it. “Yes, Orange?”

 

Orange points to the side. “There’s someone actually climbing the ladder!”

 

Isaiah nods. “Yes, thank you, Orange. I have seen this.”

 

The uthra flies in closer, spinning upside down. “Red said I should push her!” says the uthra. She holds a hand to her face, tapping her chin. “But then I thought, ‘hmm… Maybe Isaiah wouldn’t like that’,” she explains. She spins her head, looking at Isaiah. “So I came here to ask you first if I should?”

 

Isaiah tilts its head. “Thank you for doing so, Orange,” replies Isaiah calmly, in contrast to her buzzing. “Please do not push people off of the ladder.”

 

She blinks, flying in a circle around Isaiah. “Even if Red says so?”

 

“Especially if Red says so,” replies Isaiah, following her with its gaze.

 

“Okay!” she replies, not bothered. “Red said that you’d say that. So she told me to just unhook the ladder from the top of the island instead!” The uthra scratches the back of her head. “But then I thought, ‘well, wait just a minute! Maybe Isaiah wouldn’t like that either’?”

 

“You are correct as usual, Orange,” remarks Isaiah. Orange glows with a smile. “Will you do me a kindness?” it asks. Orange nods excitedly, clenching her fists and leaning in as she comes to a very sudden stop and floats there. “Go and fetch Rorate, would you?”

 

“YOU GOT IT!” exclaims Orange, shouting for no particular reason that Isaiah can decipher.

 

Like a falling star embroiled in flames, she immediately shoots off down the tower.

 

Isaiah waits.

 

Nothing happens. The day continues on as kindly and gently as it had done before.

 

— A fat bee flies by, and Isaiah watches it buzz along, very intrigued. A bee atop the roost? This is a very high place for a bee to be. How quaint.

 

The heavy thing lands on a flower, the stalk of which bends somewhat under its weight.

 

The serenity of the day is broken by a terrified scream.

 

Isaiah slowly turns back to look as Orange overshoots the roost, flying up to the sky with Rorate in her clutches.

 

An instant later, she notes the problem and corrects herself, buzzing back down together with the very frazzled and frayed looking priestess.

 

“I found her!” says Orange.

 

“Thank you, Orange,” says Isaiah, holding out its arms and taking Rorate from her to stand the elf on her own legs, which seem to be very wobbly. She steadies herself against Isaiah, trying to regain her composure. “Please be more gentle next time, yes?” it asks.

 

Orange gives it an excited thumbs-up.

 

— She hovers there.

 

Isaiah looks around the area and then back at the uthra.

 

She’s still there.

 

“Orange,” says Isaiah.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you not have any work?” it asks.

 

“I did all my work already!” says Orange excitedly, clearly proud about the fact.

 

Isaiah tilts its head. “I appreciate it. Thank you. Then please, find rest. Have fun.”

 

Orange blinks and then looks down, rubbing the tips of her index fingers together. “I don’t have anything to do,” she admits.

 

Isaiah thinks for a moment, then smiles. “Very well. Then go and find Red,” says Isaiah. “Accompany her for the rest of the day, yes?” it asks. “Your enthusiasm will do her good.”

 

Orange’s face lights up and she nods. “Sure thing!” replies the uthra, and then she shoots off.

 

Isaiah watches her go and then looks back at Rorate.

 

“I thought that this was it this time,” says Rorate, holding her chest. “I mean, I’m used to heights, but…” She still seems to be catching her breath. “— She flew us right out of the window, you know?”

 

“Apologies,” says Isaiah. “Rorate. I have need of your experience. You lived in the city, yes?” Rorate nods. “Close your eyes.” Rorate does as asked.

 

Isaiah lifts a talon, pressing it against her forehead. “See what I see.”

 

(Isaiah) has used: [Divine Vision]

 

 

~ [Crusader Legionnaire Nostrae] ~
Human, Female, (Priest + Warlock Advanced-Class) - Inquisitor Location: The Island — Ladder

 

Ladder.

 

Ladder.

 

More ladder.

 

The woman pants, gritting her teeth in vexation as she climbs with wide, angry eyes. Each rung of this stupid ladder is just pissing her off more and more.

 

She kicks the ladder with one of her leather boots, if only to make herself feel better, and then keeps climbing.

 

 

~ [Isaiah] ~

 

Isaiah and Rorate return to their own visions.

 

“Wow,” says Rorate. “And here I am being afraid of flying with Orange,” says the dark-elf.

 

“This woman, Rorate, do you know her?” asks Isaiah. Rorate shakes her head. “Do you notice anything odd about her?”

 

Rorate thinks. “Boots,” says the dark-elf, right away.

 

“Her boots?” asks Isaiah “What of them?”

 

Rorate shakes her head. “Well first off, they’re too nice. Her rucksack and belt too. The leather is all perfect. It’s like it’s all brand new. But the boots…” She thinks for a moment. “They’re really common. All of the fancy-pants in the city wear them.”

 

Isaiah tilts its head the other way. “So, she is not an adventurer?”

 

“No… I mean, maybe. But my gut feeling is no.” Rorate points over her shoulder. “New boot and belt money is hard to get for adventurers,” she explains. “The southern dungeon in the city is a real tightwad,” she explains. “Like… you can get loot from it, but it never gives you any Obols, which is super weird for a dungeon.” She leans in. “There’s actually a theory that it goes out of its way to not give out any money because it’s so cheap.”

 

“A dungeon?” asks Isaiah. “There is another?”

 

“Huh? Sure,” replies Rorate. “There are five major ones. One in every big city, including that one,” she explains. “Why do you think it’s so big?”

 

“I see,” replies Isaiah. “And the woman?”

 

Rorate shrugs. “My guess is military or… I dunno, church stuff, maybe. Not a noble, but still well paid.”

 

Isaiah ponders this for a moment.

 

A church spy?

 

It’s about time that the church begins to make their move. It’s been waiting for something to happen. Perhaps now is when things are starting to ignite once again. It nods.

 

“Thank you, Rorate. You have helped me once again.”

 

Rorate smiles and shakes her head, still trying to stand up right. “No worries,” she replies, wobbling away to go back downstairs. “That’s why I’m here.”

 

“Would you like me to carry you back to your floor?” asks Isaiah. Rorate looks over her shoulder at it. “I promise that I will fly slow.”

 

She stares for a second, then nods tentatively.

 

Isaiah grabs her, lifting its priestess off of her shaky legs. She wraps her arms around its neck, and then it flies the scenic route down and around the tower in a few circles to deliver her back to her station in a much kinder way than she had left it.

 

 

~ [Crusader Legionnaire Nostrae] ~
Human, Female, (Priest + Warlock Advanced-Class) - Inquisitor Location: The Island — Ladder

 

Hours have passed.

 

Nostrae hangs there, her belt tied to the rungs of the ladder so that she can lean back. Her arms are asleep, and her palms are open and bleeding lightly.

 

She finishes wrapping her hands in fabric from her bag and then continues with her climb.

 

 

~ [Red] ~
Uthra, Female, Worker {6}

 

“Hey! Red!” says Orange excitedly. “I found that rock, Red!” says the uthra, holding the rock out to Red that she had been tasked with finding.

 

Red groans, holding her hand out. Orange gives it to her.

 

The uthra leans her arm back and throws it as far away as she can. It hurdles off into the forest.

 

“Go find it again,” orders Red.

 

Orange shoots off in an instant.

 

Red turns around, determined to make her escape this time. Orange has been stuck to her ass all day, nagging her about this and that. She hasn’t been able to lose her once. This is her own fault. This is what she gets for trying to have fun.

 

— Orange zooms by next to her. “Found that rock again, Red!” she says, holding it out to her. “Are we friends now?”

 

Red screams, flying off to the roost to rid herself of this curse.