Chapter 1 - Dungeon Crawling

Cursed. 

Isn't it a strange thing to be? MARKED FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY UNTIL- until... the problem with 'until' is that sometimes it never gets attached. It's a strange little loophole that some sorcerers and witches never really pay much attention to, damn them all. Sometimes you're just cursed, forever. 

And forever is a mighty long time. 

Never make a deal with adventurers, especially when they say, "the job will be easy"! I truly should've paid more mind to their inexperience, it was a death sentence to journey with them! I mean, who is stupid enough to accept the job listing of 'dungeon guide'? Anyhow, they all died; I was not so lucky... and on that there isn't much more to say. 
Ever since I was cursed by this crypt's "warden", and up until relatively recently,  I have been no more than a wall ornament. A slime. A fungus. Disgusting. For a long time I believed that my fate was sealed, and as time passed my mind truly faded into that of a slime's. But the thing about dungeons, and life in general, is that everything dies. Monsters included. Overtime the denizens of my lovely moldy abode; goblins, orcs, and the other rabble all passed away or killed each other. Unfortunate stuff really. I would've mourned them, really I would've, had I the eyes to weep for them... or if they didn't hack at me every goddamn chance they got. The bastards. So I ate them instead, served them right.

It was slow eating, but eventually I got the hang of it. Strangely enough the more I consumed the more I grew in cognitive ability, edging closer towards my previous intelligence, which had once been "diminished" by the curse placed on me. I consumed those goblins and orcs, kobolds and zombies, learning their tongues and dreams. I really wish I hadn't consumed their dreams, nasty stuff. Most importantly I understood their tactics, their history, and a glimpse of what remained of the outside world through their eyes. From the visions of the fallen I learned that the world I once knew had grown soft, lacked its hardiness and its grit. My town, my home, had lived on without me; flourished even. These goblins and beast had failed to ransack it, defeated countless times by adventurers and defenders of the commonwealth, only their progeny had survived these failed assaults (only for me to later consume). 

But time had passed! Who knows how long it's truly been? Years? Decades? Perhaps centuries since the scrambled memories of the monstrous survivors and their failed offspring? I have grown in that time, I'd like to think as an intellectual, as a connoisseur of knowledge and memories; but few memories can be formed in the dark recesses of a dank dungeon. I'd like more, I want more, I need more...but I'm slime, I like it in my hole... the sun is no longer my friend.

Since I've begun eating, I've gotten quite large, to the point where I can feel the vibrations beneath the earthen soil. It's close, the rhythm of footsteps among leaves. It must be fall, it sounds so faint. I long for many things, very few of them entirely human by this point...

So, a quick run down, I've gained a myriad of abilities since consuming all those corpses. First, an almost uncountable number of limbs with their own digits at my disposal. they're a little stubby, but for the most part they work considerably well for little jelly cubes. 

After a fair deal of time I realized that I could separate small pieces of my being from the whole, essentially into small semi-sentient blobs. They can't do jack shit, but I guess it's interesting. 

Lastly, I've found a way to move the "conscious" part of my mind into various parts of my overall form. Hasn't been entirely useful but when you're the size of several small houses it's important to move around with ease; without necessarily moving. 

Ever since I felt a whisper of the surface all I can do is dream of what the sun feels like, only to recoil at the thought of it. I want to feel what it's like without having to wo- Holy fuck is that a rat! Goddam I hate vermin... goblins, trolls, the rest of the like? Fine. Rats? Uck! Well it's not biting me atl- This fucker just bit me!

Mother Astara, goddess of all that is holy... it doesn't really hurt, but fuck... 
Wait a second, I feel that rat. I feel its thoughts. Its dark pebble of a mind has seen so much! The feeling of cobblestone beneath its feet, the taste of garbage, the sun! This is so alien, being able to connect with something living; like I do with the dead...

With a twitch of my mind the rat spins in a circle, lies on it's back, and diligently obeys a series of my commands with merely a thought, yet the little bastard still is a leg ahead of me. 

A rat...even a rat has more of a break from the darkness than myself, free to roam and explore! But the feeling is fleeting, this small rodent's mind can't possibly sustain the memory of surface life...Now, if only I could access the memories of something or someone a bit lar-

Idea.