Dungeons and Noobs

by Ryan Rimmel

  I’m probably not going to like the result. I held up my hand and began cycling Mana through my Biological Aeromancy core. My hand turned bright, smokey green.

  “That’s new,” said Bashara, looking at the swirls in my hand. “Well, try it. Point it at something.”

  I did, trying to Will a breeze or something out of my hand. Nothing happened. I flipped to my skills.

  ● Biological Aeromancy, You are an Initiate. (937/1000 SP)

  “I’m only at Initiate rank,” I said.

  “How? The only spell I’ve seen you use that for is making people. . .” she coughed. She had been defeated by my all-powerful magic before.

  “I use it for barriers all the time,” I countered. Biological Aeromancy was considered a higher tier magic. Thus, it was more effective at countering lower tier magic. The smokey green barrier was my default, because, when I used the Hardened Barrier perk to Block, it granted Skill Points to Block, Barrier, and Biological Aeromancy.

  “Oh, well that makes more sense,” Bashara said after a moment. She eyed my glowing hand a moment before shrugging. “Can’t be helped, then.” The Wizard reached out and grabbed my hand, scrunching her eyes shut.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, as her surprisingly strong hand squeezed down on mine.

  “I’m trying to trigger the effects of your skill,” she answered. “Whatever it is, the effect is not super obvious. . .”

  I was watching her carefully. Since she’d grabbed me, her skin had become more vibrant looking. Her hair was bright and glossy in the light of the sun. Those effects were nice, but I expected they would end quickly when she released my hand. Since her eyes were closed, I used Lore.

  ● Bashara: Wizard Level 19

  ● HP: 325/310

  ● Stamina: 50/50

  ● Mana: 183/420

  ● Skill: Illusions Expert

  ● Skill: Mental Manipulation Expert

  ● Skill: Waterology Talented

  She had managed to advance many levels since the last time I looked at her with Lore. On someone else, I’d have been impressed. However, this was Bashara. I suspected that she had some trick that was showing a false read on her Lore screen, especially considering her Hit Points. I was doing the same thing, so complaining about it would have been pretty hypocritical. I was fully capable of being a hypocrite, if the situation called for it, though.

  “So thirsty,” she mumbled, watching me for a moment before releasing my hand. “Wait, you used Lore on me? Without my permission?”

  “I just wanted to see the spell's effects,” I stammered at her innate hostility. Doing a full Lore scan on someone was more than a bit impolite.

  Bashara visibly collected herself. “Like what you saw?” she asked, a vague smirk replacing the anger on her face. As I looked at her and my eyes lingered on her scar she frowned and turned away.

  “Yes,” I stated, happy to move on with the topic at hand. “I noticed you had more Hit Points than your maximum?”

  She paused, examining her own sheet for a moment, “Yes, but they are going down.” She grabbed my hand again and watched. “Neat, your Biological Aeromancy grants temporary hit points. I wonder if it grants real hit points, too.”

  “Well, we’d have to -” I began, but Bashara had already gotten out her dagger and started working on her palm. It took her a moment to get through the temporary hit points, which manifested as almost instant healing in this case. Soon enough, her left hand was a bloody mess.

  Grabbing my glowing hand with her right, she began examining her left. Bashara flexed her fingers into various casting signs. “Nope, just generates temporary hit points.”

  I would have asked, like a chump, how she could tell, but the big, oozing wounds were a pretty good indicator that I wasn’t healing anything. It did look like my effect restored some of her Stamina, though.

  “What’s your Mana look like?” she asked, so I flipped over to my own sheet.

  ● Jim: Level 3 Sorcerer

  ● HP: 700/700

  ● Stamina: 478/530

  ● Mana: 201/250

  “It's eating a big chunk of it, and my Stamina is down,” I said, focusing on the effect. Generating light with Flameology required so little Mana that I didn’t even think about it, but Biological Aeromancy was actually draining. I couldn’t keep it up forever.

  “Ha,” I heard a voice in the back of my mind. It could only have been Shart.

  “It's using your Stamina,” said Bashara as she thought. “That’s. . . different. I really need to take you to a magical college somewhere and let them dissect you.”

  “I think I’m going to pass on that very tempting offer,” I said. She grinned at me. Then, she shook her head and stepped back, apparently content regarding the passive powers of my Biological Aeromancy skill.

  “Alright, enough messing around. It's time to show you how real Wizards fight,” she said. Grabbing her staff, she strolled over to her mark in our makeshift arena. The actual arena was circular using the long line we had built as a center line.

  “I thought we were already doing that,” I said, bringing up a barrier and then deactivating it.

  “Badger’s balls, no,” chuckled Bashara. “Well, I mean, I guess we were doing what low-level practitioners would call a magical duel. Now, however, I am going to show you how we do it on Dragon Mountain!”

  “Where is Dragon Mountain?” I asked, as she began warming up. Small jets of flame were shooting from the tip of her staff.

  “Out East? The Zentarim Academy? You certainly have heard of it,” she said flatly. She narrowed her eyebrows at me, groaning. “You know, the one located on the pelvis of the Dragon?”

  “The Dragon Mountain has a pelvis?” I asked, like a total idiot would.

  “Boy, Shart is gonna be sorry he missed this,” my oh-so-faithful animal companion muttered sleepily. Badgelor had been curled under some fallen debris but was rousing himself for the very moronic spectacle he was surely about to witness.

  Bashara’s face tightened. “Yes, because the mountain is an immense fossilized dragon. The Zentarim Academy is located between the dragon’s legs.”

  “I don’t think I know where that is,” I said.

  “You’re fucking with me. Everyone knows about the Zentarim Academy at the Dragon’s Balls,” Bashara ground out.

  “That’s a long way to go for a DBZ joke,'' I shrugged. Bashara facepalmed.

  “I assure you that the Zentarim Academy is no joke,” she said haughtily.

  “It's no school of witchcraft and wizardry, though” I ventured. Bashara became irate. Insulting someone’s college was universally offensive. Good to know.

  “I swear to the gods, you do “ignorant buffoon” better than anyone else I’ve ever met and I’m close friends with Sir Dalton,” she shouted, before regaining control of herself. “Just cast a streaming spell at me.”

  Summoning up the Mana, I worked it into magic and proclaimed, “Lame thro!” Instantly, a jet of fire erupted from my palm and went streaming toward Bashara. Normally, she would generate a barrier to block the spell, but not this time.

  “Tra’Cutioner!,” she yelled. A blast of bright blue lightning shot straight into my stream of fire. Both spells met in the middle. They caused quite a bright, flashy shower of power. Magical fire and magical lightning did not behave at all like their mundane counterparts. Whereas a welding torch and an arc welder would have gone right through each other, our magical streams instead met in the middle and formed a vortex of power.

  The sensation was unusual, to say the least. It felt like I was pushing against Bashara’s spell, which I supposed I was. I focused my Will and pressed on the spell, forcing more Mana into it. The vortex in the middle began to shift toward her.

  Bashara, never one to be outdone, smirked. She focused her own Will against my spell, causing the lightning to bore into it. The vortex began to press toward me and, despite my best efforts, pushed well past the halfway mark. It was headed inexorably f
or me.

  Too much magic. Can’t push anything more through my hand.

  “Don’t worry about it! Everyone has performance issues their first time,” yelled Bashara comfortingly, cupping her hands over her mouth.

  “How the hell are you doing that?” I yelled back.

  “After the spell is activated, you don’t really need to hold your hands there. It's a bad habit,” Bashara called back, laughing.

  Hands.

  I had the Twin Casting perk, which allowed me to cast spells with both hands. I had enough Mana to defeat Bashara. I just didn’t have enough pipe to get it there. Focusing the runes into my other hand, I cast Flame Stream again. Both my jets of flame hit her single bolt of electricity.

  If there hadn’t been three streams of power exploding into each other, we would have looked ridiculous. I was standing there, my hands touching each other at the base of the palms, while all ten of my fingers were tuliped out. Meanwhile, Bashara was leaning toward me, her hands at her sides, looking for all the world like a petulant child who didn’t get her way.

  In the time-delayed arena of a magical duel, our battle stretched onward, with Bashara using her superior skill to offset my Improved Flameology. She would bob, weave, and feint her magical stream. I just kept plowing forward. Her tactics were foreplay for the big event, and I was just trying to crash land a rocket ship.

  Unfortunately for her, simplicity has a power all its own, and we weren’t using advanced magic. My streams of power were ever so slightly stronger than hers. Eventually, I pushed her spell all the way back, until the magical vortex was erupting right in front of her face. It was as far as I could go; the arena’s design placed her out of my Flame Stream’s range.

  She looked pissed, until I screamed, “That was awesome! We have to try that again!”

  Then she looked. . .malevolent.

  We had a total of thirteen contests that day. I won one.

  Chapter 15: Calm Before the Storm

  “Well, that was a good day of training,” I said. Glorious Robert, Splendid Gloria, and two of Sir Dalton’s daughters were following me back into town. I’d finally picked up Journeyman Sprinting as I fled from Bashara’s last ‘training’ exercise. She was right, the town’s barrier had decided we were training.

  “I guess you could say that,” grumbled Glorious Robert. He was still upset that he hadn’t been able to break my dodging block, despite his comprehensive and exhaustive efforts. “Seems to me that you are as ready for the dungeon as you are going to get.”

  That was not a reassuring response. Glorious Robert had spent the last several hours demonstrating conclusively that he could pound me into the floor at his leisure. All he had to do was actually swing at me, and he could make contact nine out of ten times. He’d actually tried that for a while, figuring that actually beating the crap out of me might work. It hadn’t.

  I nodded, letting that pass. Holding up the thingamabob that Hansa had prepared for me, I examined it. It was a prototype, one of five I’d started with. With a simple toss, I could strike a target and cause the small explosive device to detonate. Unlike my Fire Stones, this thing was impressive.

  ● Thingamabob: Inventor’s Gadget, Explosive. 6-36 points of Fire Damage, 10 foot radius.

  That was a nice attack, but I could lob several of them at once to compound the damage. Each additional device did less damage than the last, but even up to five of the devices would still provide a benefit.

  Splendid Gloria bumped into her husband, causing him to step toward me. I turned around, catching just the edge of a serious look on her face, before she turned to talk to Margwal for a moment. Glorious Robert seemed to be steeling himself for something.

  “So, Mister Mayor,” he said hesitantly in his Basstown accent as we walked. Glorious Robert looked back at his wife before continuing, “Have you considered who is going to go down into the dungeon with you? Assuming, of course, that you are going to go down into the dungeon?”

  “I’m going,” I said, turning back to face Glorious Robert.

  “Well, you are going to need a strong team then. Have you made any choices?” he asked.

  “I have some ideas,” I said after a moment. “Did you want to come?”

  He growled, and Shart chuckled.

  “Everyone wants to come, you nimrod,” stated Shart, rolling his eyes. He had been gone all day, only reappearing now to mock me. He has to have some skill that alerts him to statements of stupidity. “Dungeon running is one of the best ways to power yourself up. There are tons of experience points to be earned down there, as well as great treasure.

  Duh, I thought, watching Glorious Robert’s expression. It was dramatically flipping between angry and calm, as he attempted to collect himself. Shart didn’t get the art of negotiation at all.

  “Yes, I’d like to come,” stated Glorious Robert, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “However, I wondered how many party slots you had.”

  In a dungeon, you entered as a party, led by the person with the best Party Leader talent. I had that talent, of course. I had quickly checked and verified that I had four slots to add in other people, or, in one specific case, a Warg.

  “I’m not stopping anyone from going to the dungeon by themselves,” I said after a moment. “You could always go there on your own.”

  “I could,” he replied, as if considering the problem. I knew him too well, though. He’d already gone through this with Splendid Gloria. “The problem is that there are six adventurers in town, and only one of you.”

  “Maybe I’ll just go in by myself,” I joked.

  “”Yeah, maybe,” replied Glorious Robert. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind running for mayor, after we scrape up and bury what’s left of you. We certainly know you aren’t going to be dodging any of the attacks.”

  I sighed. Actually going by myself would have been impossible. While we’d been talking about my problematic Footwork skill, I had the same issue with Block and Parry. Attacks made with fast weapons above the Journeyman level were too quick for my skills to engage. The last time I fought a sub-boss, I had been readily beating that troll. Then, it managed to grab me by the head and repeatedly smash my face into the ground. I didn’t know if that was luck or if the troll had just realized my weakness.

  “Look, you’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you? “ sighed Glorious Robert. “You are decent at a whole bunch of things, but you aren’t really good at any of them. You go into this dungeon without a strong team, and you’re going to get pounded flat.”

  “Fine, I’ll think about it,” I responded.

  “Well, if you don’t want me to go, you could always pay me fo-” started Glorious Robert, before Splendid Gloria kicked him.

  “The training is a gift,” she smiled, before whispering to her husband, “If you give him a value for the training, he’s just going to pay you off. You need to get inside that dungeon.”

  Having a high Perception skill was annoying at times.

  “We can’t go until the Phoenix Moon, remember. We have plenty of time to decide,” I said, thinking. “Tomorrow we have the parade and Badger’s Night. I‘ll call a meeting before the post parade party to discuss it.”

  I sent out a timed quest invite to all the adventurers in town for a meeting at my house the next day. At the gate, our group dispersed. I headed toward the inn to get some supper.

  “I’m starving,” growled Badgelor.

  “We are going to eat as soon as we get to the inn,” I replied.

  “Walk faster,” urged the badger.

  Before I’d made it fifteen feet, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Mr. Mayor, it is good to see you,” proclaimed Zorlando as he led a half-dozen people in a squad behind him. They were jogging, which seemed to be his preferred method of basic training for the Dashing Dandies.

  From what I could see with my own two eyes, the new squad appeared to be shaping up nicely. As they were in formation, individual name tags were out. All I could s
ee was the squad title. “Specialist Corp” floated over the entire group.

  I hadn’t realized the new buildings would have been completed so quickly. Either structure was a half day's work for any of our construction teams, and I knew several members of those teams were part of the army. I supposed that was incentive enough for quick building expansion and new army divisions.

  “Didn’t waste any time,” I said, nodding at the new squad. They continued to jog in place, once Zorlando had halted his progress.

  “They were very eager to get started training under the great Zorlando,” replied the great Zorlando.

  “Well, don’t let me stop you,” I said, turning back toward my destination.

  “If you do not mind, I have a question,” said Zorlando, as he stepped closer to me. His idea of quietly talking was best described as a stage whisper. “Fenris was training with us a few moments ago. Then, he said he needed to get something and vanished. Do you have any idea why?”

  “I sent him a quest invite for a meeting at the house tomorrow, after the parade,” I answered.

  “Will it be something you need my assistance with?” asked Zorlando.

  “We’ll be talking about the dungeon,” I said tactfully.

  “Say no more,” replied Zorlando, signaling his unit to keep jogging. As the last of the squad ran past, I momentarily examined the backside of one of the female recruits. It looked familiar, despite her wearing nearly the full suit of combat armor. Next to her, I spotted a blond ponytail and realized that Ashe was a member of the Specialists Corp.

  “Dalton is going to kill him,” muttered Badgelor.

  “Yes, he is,” I replied.

  “So, they are bumping uglies,” stated Shart gruffly. “Why does it matter?”