[Graduation Dungeon] Jove

[Grey Dragon]

It was a good thing Jove had been warned ahead of time. His brother's well-timed words of advice and encouragement had saved the pup a good lot of struggling, biting, and general nuisance-making when he was finally abducted from his room and dragged out to be dropped at the graduation dungeon.

Was he really ready for this?

Jove discarded the remnants of ropes and gag and blindfold and got to his feet. He was suddenly very nervous, but he could only go forward really. Wasn't that why he had been sent to the academy in the first place, to go forward?  

[Grey Dragon]

((12. Prompt - Who You Wanted to Be))

Stepping through the doors, Jove was suddenly an entirely different person. Yet he was… himself. A Jove that was taller, more confident. He could feel it inside himself, the strength he took from his own skills and the support of his friends, the strength of knowing that the weakest part of himself was accepted.

Pain radiated from his left side, but it did little to diminish the fierce determination in his chest. Blood ran down his face, and he couldn't hear through one ear. That left side was rife with injuries, bruises spreading across his chest, ribs cracked, skin split open and oozing dark, dead blood. But he was still strong, and so was his team.

He helped the werewolf in front of him back to his feet, wounds healed, body back in fighting shape. HIs teammate dashed back into the fray, and Jove moved on through the mist to the next prone body. The edge of a spear appeared to his left, and he was barely able to sidestep before being skewered. They got better every year it seemed, but Jove had fought enough hunters. He hammered the white-cloaked figure with a multitude of ghostly fists, dropping them like a rock, and then he was able to move on.

When he reached his target, he realized it was no use. They were already beginning to dissipate, stitches holding dead arms together falling loose before dissolving themselves as piece by piece the zombie became stray particles in the mist. Another friend lost in the battle. If he had only been able to get there sooner… Would he have been able to make a difference?

Yet he couldn't stay in one place. If the hunters got him he might end up the same, the FEAR keeping his own body together was not immeasurable. He ran forward, pressing onward with the shadows of his team members running through the fog on either side. They had to be successful, for everyone's sake. Even all these years later he still felt that desire to fight for Halloween, and protect those he loved.

A building loomed out of the mist and, and Jove ducked through the doorway...  

[Grey Dragon]

((8. Prompt - The World In My Hands))

Jove stepped through a delicate wooden arbor, and found himself in a little, well kept yard. The small vegetable garden was free of weeds, the flowers approaching the end of their bloom. His soft ears turned to listen to the crickets, much like the ones he remembered from his youth in Halloween, except with less menace. They were almost calming, carried on the light breeze.

It was a quiet summer night in the human world. He couldn't remember how many times he had visited, and how much FEAR he had harvested. Children and adults alike, he preyed on their curiosity and led them astray. His glow lured them out, and his nimble feet led them on a dance through the fields and woods and mountains. It was so easy for a small wisp such as himself. Lead them out, get them lost, feel the slow building of FEAR as they realized they were no longer familiar with the land… Some he brought to the edge of a cliff, or a deep bog, always stopping just shy of putting the humans under his care into real danger. Then he would lead them safely home, staying out of sight and leaving his continued presence unannounced as he cleared the way. They would tell stories later, of the will-o-wisp that had nearly gotten them, and he would have done his job for the night.

This was as good a place as any, the little well-tended house at the edge of the woods. There was a deep ravine here, and he knew his route would end with success. He pulled a little bell out of his fur, an old trick he had learned from a kitsune when he was younger, and gave it a couple light rings. That always seemed to bring the curious humans out.

Yet after a few long minutes, it wasn't an impetuous child or concerned adult who opened the door to the back porch, but an old man. He pushed open the screen door and stared out across the yard, as silent as the foxfire gently lighting the bushes. Preceded by his cane, the elderly man hobbled across the old and worn porch and stepped softly into the grass, but he made no move to follow the curious light.

Jove rang the bell again, and although the old man turned in that direction, he did not appear to see.

"Oh, little Snowdrop. Have you come to visit again?" The old man said, his voice raspy and warm with affection. "It's been so long, my son simply refuses to put out the tuna anymore. He seemed to think you were not long for this world, I am glad to hear your bell again."

The wisp paused, head tilting, bell chiming ever so softly. This old man… was blind?

"Ah, come on over here," the old man said, letting out a wheeze as he lowered himself to kneel on the grass. He held out one hand in front of him, expectantly.

And after a long pause, Jove did. He slowly left the safety of the bushes, cautiously wandering across that well-kept lawn. The man was too old to have cut it short himself, it took younger, stronger humans to run the grass-cutting thing that kept everything short. Maybe that son had done it? His ears turned left and right, but there were no sounds of anyone else stirring inside the house or out.

He wandered over, and put his fluffy head under the man's hand. "There you are my sweet. Have you gotten fluffier? I always told your folks to brush you a bit more often, they always said you were just getting old but I knew you just needed a good bath and brush. Someone's got to keep an eye out for you, eh?" The old man winked one blind eye.

Jove let the old man pat his head, and scratch him behind the ears, and there was silence for a couple minutes. "What are you gonna do after I kick the bucket?" The old man said, in a softer tone this time. "I can't stick around forever you know. You probably haven't got a care in the world, but oh I know, nothing sticks around forever. And I can feel it in my bones. The joints ache something fierce, and my ticker ain't what it used to be..."

The old man sighed. "Still, it's good of you to stop by."

Jove sat in silence, held in place by the gentle surety of this blind, elderly human. Those fingers, translucent and spotted with age, caressed his fur with a lifetime of experience. And then finally there was another sigh.

"Ah but the night is too cold for my old joints, I'm rustier than a tin can on a fencepost." He got his cane in front of him, and used it to lever himself to a staggering stand. "Come around again, you fluffy little beast. During the daytime. You have no shame, waking up an old man at such late hours."

The man's mumbled words were full of fond affection as he hobbled back to the porch, and for a second he turned to gaze back out across the lawn. "I am ever so glad to hear your bell again..."

Jove waited until the screen door had clattered shut, and once again he was left in the silence with the crickets. Finally he turned and left the little yard...  

[Grey Dragon]

((12. Prompt - Who You Wanted to Be - Revisited))

The room had grown dark. The faint glow of candles cast weak shadows on the walls. The soft sound of breathing sleepers was the only noise filtering through the gloom to reach his sensitive ears. Or ear.

He had fought. He had been brave, defended his people from the hunter attacks. He had watched friends fall, and had helped some back to their feet, and had carried others off the battlefield, others who would never regain their feet. The weight of their lives fell heavily on his ghostly heart as he lay in the darkness. He could still hear their voices, some of them, but when he tried to think back farther, he couldn't picture their faces… With enough time they would simply vanish from his memory, he was sure, leaving only the feeling of fond familiarity and poignant loss behind.

Sometimes he wondered if that would have been a better fate than the one laid out in front of him. To dissipate so simply, break apart and vanish from this world, and then vanish from the minds of those who knew him.

This would be his last night there, with his team. His fight had ended, in the morning his broken body would be sent back to Halloween Town. Perhaps he would recover, in time, but for now his FEAR was only just barely holding him together. His brother would be horrified at the sight of him, he knew for sure. Ren would be angry. Maybe the gryphon would cry, when he was alone, thinking of his poor, mutilated little brother...

Jove raised one arm and rubbed his right eye, wiping unexpected tears away with a heavy hand. It felt as though he lifted the weight of a thousand chains wrapped around that one slim wrist, but it rested like a feather on his forehead, as light as ever. He would be welcomed back by his family, and they would take good care of him even as he was now. How much would him and his burden weigh upon them? Would he feel like a feather, or a chain?

From this point on he could only be carried forwards. Had it been the right choice?  

[Grey Dragon]

((3. Prompt - Forged Anew))

He was carried forwards, striking out with quick, biting movements. His fine edge never dulled, it cut with ease through fabric and flesh alike. Jove was once a foxfire, a glowing wisp of a thing, but now he wore a body of cold steel rather than cold skin. His blade was thin, piercing, and from his hilt dangled a chain with an impossibly soft tassel of fur at the end. Hardly longer than his hunter's outstretched hand, he was barely a knife, but even before meeting his hunter, hadn't he been barely anything?

Jove was not terribly fond of his hunter, but he had to admit, they were a good team. When he was not defending himself from the almost-bullying nature of his companion, they seemed to anticipate each other's movements, and through movement, understood each other more thoroughly. Some weapons communicated with their humans through words, but he was silent. It was their movement together that determined their place in the world. One day his hunter would realize what he had learned a long time ago in that hazy past lifetime, it took great strength to be so small…

His keen blade cut through the air with ease as he was twirled around, the FEAR from his opponents feeding him, recharging him. And then once again they changed opponents, little stabs and slashes whittling away at the familiar face in front of them. A face contorted in pain and hatred and anger.

As he was spun through the air, he realized his heart wasn't in it. This opponent stirred up old emotions, things deeper than the irritation he often felt for his human, or the satisfaction of the fight. There was pain, the deeper he searched his hazy memory the more painful it became. Who was this opponent? Had he possessed the shape of his past form, he would have recognized this feeling as surely as he would recognize tears on his cheeks, or the tightness of arms around him, holding him tight. It was the pain of being held too tight. The pain of a parting touch. It was a pain he had long forgotten, a feeling found in the most heartfelt longing for the company of old friends he loved. Had he ever been loved strong enough to leave these bruises that caused him such pain now?

His blade struck metal, sparks flew like miniature wisps. Their opponent fought desperately, did they feel the same pain? Was it merely a fluke that their pain mirrored his own, or did it exist at all? Why was it that this interaction could feel stronger than anything he had felt for his new hunter? Weren't the calloused fingers real enough to draw out his emotion? Wasn't his mental connection strong enough? How was it that this familiar opponent could pull such tender pain from inside him, when his human's thoughts left only the shadow of irritation in his mind?

They moved onto another target, one of their hunter comrades stepping in to take their place with the former opponent. Jove felt that twisting, longing, crying pain again as they separated. And the joy of battle had disappeared, he wanted only to see that familiar face again…  

[Grey Dragon]

((5. Prompt - Everything You Ever Wanted))

Jove found himself once again as he was, and wiped a strange tear from his cheek. The emotions still lingered. Whatever magic swirled around this dungeon was still in the air, although it had left him clear-headed and once again in mind of the situation. He would never let Ren know he had cried during this exam…

Stepping into the center of the next room, he paused. It was bare, and empty, yet something behind him caught his attention. When he turned, he realized it was himself.

The ghost in front of him was reminiscent of his first room's appearance, taller, with slightly shaggy dark hair and brightly glowing eyes. His expression was gentle, his face reminiscent of his brother's face, and his posture was confident, without being arrogant or aloof. The older Jove did not look conventionally strong, not with his lean body and delicate features, but his presence was firm. In that gentle expression he seemed older and wiser, and even though the same freckles decorated his nose, those bright eyes seemed ageless.

The older Jove reached out, and ruffled his hair softly, just like Ren would, and the pup leaned into the touch. He knew in a moment this was what he had always wanted, to be grown up, strong and unafraid. This figure in front of him seemed amused. Reassuring. Don't worry, you'll get there, he seemed to say. You're on your way, just keep your head up.

Jove felt a trace of impatience, but even that was swept away by the calm gaze of his older self. He wanted to be strong now, strong in heart and mind and body, not small and frightened of the future. But with this strong future self's hand resting on his head, he felt it would be okay. One day he wouldn't be so small anymore. Maybe he was already even stronger than he thought. It would be okay.

The room swirled and the vision of himself faded away. Jove stood there for several long minutes before moving on.  

[Grey Dragon]

((Moving to Boss Room!))

When Jove passed through the last archway into the last room, the great green knight in front of him seemed to be his last challenge. For a minute he stood his own ground, staring up at the armoured figure who held his diploma. A part of him was scared. What would he do if he failed? Could he even take down something this large?

He took a deep breath, and lashed out with many tendrils of ghostly essence.

HP: 50 - 5 = 45
DMG: 11  

[Grey Dragon]

Jove jumped back as the lance came down, slicing through several of his tendrils. It stung, but he wasn't going to lose any ground. One day he would become the person he had seen, the gentle, confident Jove that was so far away from him. But to do that, he first had to make it past...

HP: 45 - 10 = 35
DMG: 0  

[Grey Dragon]

Jove felt that familiar fear well up inside again as he was swatted aside. He was going to fail if he couldn't get past this knight's guard! Each blow from the javelin packed such a punch, he was simply too small...

HP: 35 - 10 = 25
DMG: 0  

[Grey Dragon]

Lunging forward again, Jove dodged the oncoming blade and lashed out with his own claw-like tendrils. They glanced off the green knight's armour, but the little strike gave him hope. He had gone up against bigger, fiercer enemies before...

HP: 25 - 5 = 20
DMG: 2  

[Grey Dragon]

The knight's weapon was fast, Jove couldn't avoid it entirely. But he was able to keep on his feet, and stay close to the giant as he darted left and right looking for an opening. Finally he saw a moment, ducking the weapon and slashing at the knight's armoured hand.

HP: 20 - 5 = 15
DMG: 3  

[Grey Dragon]

Jove whirled around, gritting his teeth and making a mad dash just to the creature's left side... And right before it was able to turn and strike him, the pup found his opportunity. Invisible claws penetrated deep into the chinks in the knight's armour, sinking into the ghostly mass within. And slowly, the knight slumped.

The white and blue ribboned roll of parchment fell to the ground.

HP: 15 - 0
DMG: FINISHER~  

[Grey Dragon]

Jove stared at the parchment for the longest time, holding it in shaking hands. This was it. This was... it? He had passed?

Quote:

AMITYVILLE ACADEMY

To all whom these presents shall have come: Greetings unto you.

Be it known that we, the Headmistress and Faculty of the Academy under authority of Fear and the Laws of Halloween, have admitted

Jove the Steadfast

the Rights, Privileges, and Dignities to which a Persons of Halloween with Amityville Experience may Expect.