Grae understood now.

It was like a light had shone down into his tiny existence, illuminating things that had previously been dark to him. Centuries?

He had been here for centuries.

And nobody had come. Not a single, searching soul.

The city above must be gone. The dungeon was a cesspool for its filth, and now there was nobody left to throw their refuse away, allowing monsters to be born from the magical scraps accumulating underfoot. The symbiotic cycle had been broken.

But was it just the city?

Grae knew there were far more terrible beasts than a lowly tuskling. If he could live for centuries, why had nothing else? Wasn’t there some beast tucked away that had his same obstinate nature, refusing to give up and fade away?

No.

For the title to fall to a creature only centuries old…

Something had gone terribly wrong in the world above.

But understanding the world beyond was only part of the Title that Grae had been given. That part alone, might have been a blessing…

But Grae also came to understand his own life.

Scraping his tusks against the corridors as he walked in an endless circle. Too stupid to crave anything new, too comfortable to leave the stagnant, empty pit as everything else gave up and withered into death. A laughable cretin.

A fool…

Centuries of life, and he had done nothing but feed on rats and amuse himself by telling jokes to his own shadow….

But, for all that, Grae had been happy. And now that he had been ‘blessed’ with a superior mind, he would never be satisfied in that same, simple way again. He couldn’t stand the sight of his familiar home anymore- he could feel the sameness and the monotony of damp, stagnant air weighing down his lungs with every breath…

He was cursed to venture out into the world.

Cursed to find the home he’d loved boring and dismal.

Cursed with an intellect.

And for the first time, Grae felt the immense sadness of the dungeon around him. The lack of other beasts, the graveyard-quiet of corridors that used to be full of little tusklings snorting and fighting…

Grae sighed. His long, hairy arms swept away the scattered embers from the fire, and he sat down to eat his stew. The wand he picked up and toyed with for a moment…

When he gave it an experimental flick, a jet of flame exploded outwards and painted the wall with ash.

His new intellect gave added strength to enchanted tools. Noted.

He carefully stowed it away again.

Over the next day, Grae collected what he could from the dungeon. He picked up a set of loose armor scraps and tied them around his lanky body. None of the helmets fit, no matter how hard he tried to hammer them into shape.

He pried spellbooks from the hands of dead mages. Most of them were rotting and useless, but he managed to peel out a few pages that still had diagrams on them. It wasn’t that Grae wanted to learn magic. He had to.

His people were born from magic. The dungeon had been full of it, naturally gathering stray specks of energy to form monsters and stranger things still.

If he ever wanted to bring life back to his people…

Magic was the only way.

Piecing the papers together with strips of bark for added stability, and mashing up pastebugs into a sticky glue, Grae assembled a crude spellbook. None of the pages belonged to the same book, and he wasn’t sure he had a single complete spell between them…

But it was a start.

Perhaps more importantly, he’d discovered what the little jewels he’d used to light his lair were.

“Iiiiinspect.” He oinked.

Instantly, a little screen popped upon. Grae liked the little screens. They rippled like water when he tapped them.

[ Star of Rainwater ]

10.7 Motes

Chaos

Contains a Rune from the Heavens of the Watersource, bearing elements of spring, replenishment, and luck. Can be attached to a Constellation to add its Form.

These little jewels didn’t look like much, but…

They were the secret to those curious abilities humans had.

Grae stared into a pool of stagnant water. He had an ape’s shaggy, lanky-limbed body, with long arms and bent legs. His face was all pig. Tusks emerged from either corner of his leathery, wide lips, and a folded snout snuffled at the air. Tufts of curly gray fur covered everything.

“Inspect…” He grunted. It was becoming easier to talk.

Grae Mangefur

the Eldest, the Last Blood, the Coward, the Defeated, the Strong

Race

Tuskling (Ascended)

Level

Red (0/10)

Capacity

78/78

Attunements

Decay

Constellations

The Open Eyes (0/2), The Gentle Beast (0/6)

When he focused on any of the Constellations, a second screen expanded.

The Gentle Beast

“Null”

Passive

Grants the ability to speak and understand Common.

Completion

Grants a permanent increase to Mana capacity. Locked after completion.

◆ [Empty]

◆ [Empty]

◆ [Empty]

◆ [Empty]

◆ [Empty]

◆ [Empty]

Beneath the words was the image of a celestial lion, its head bowed and noble. Six stars connected by lines made up its body, overlaid with a more detailed drawing in luminous ink. Each ‘star’ was hollow, an open socket, waiting for…

Something.

Lifting the Star of Rainwater in his fingers, Grae pushed it into the socket.

He waited for a moment, but nothing happened…

With a growl of frustration, he picked through the four other ‘stars’ sitting in his palm.

The Star of Vital Strength…

The Bursting Star…

The Archer’s Star…

The Shieldbearer’s Star…

There seemed to be two distinct types. When he flicked through their descriptions, they were similar. Each was given certain aspects or elements. Each had a count in Motes, accompanied by a direction. But half were described as granting their ‘Form’ to the Constellation…

While the other half added ‘Function’ instead…

[ The Archer’s Star ]

11.8 Motes

Order

Contains a Rune formed by diligence and practice with the bow. Can be attached to a Constellation to add its Function.

If he was guessing correctly…

A Constellation needed both. Pushing the Archer’s Star into place, he felt a sudden pang of energy spread outwards from his chest. He could feel- somewhere deep inside, near his heart- a power taking root. It was a cool, confident strength, one that called to be used.

Lifting his hand, Grae drew that strength out into his fingers. Red sparks surrounded his hand.

Ribbons of water spiraled together in his open palm to form the projectile, a perfectly shaped arrow. Grae stared at it in wonder. It was made of water that had somehow become solid. It was weightless and elegant in his hand. When he tried to bend it or break the arrow droplets flowed between his fingers to reform the complete whole.

After a moment, it dissolved.

Eagerly, Grae picked up the Bursting Star. Pressing it into the third slot, he felt the energy in his chest shift and reshape itself. Threads of energy wove themselves into a new purpose…

This time when he lifted his hand a sphere of water erupted forth, smashing into the wall and shattering the bricks to rubble…