Dungeons and Noobs

by Ryan Rimmel

  “Yes?” ventured Blots.

  “Good, my Remote Management works perfectly,” I stated.

  Mar rolled his eyes. “Yes, we can communicate with you. How can we help you, Sir?”

  “How are the preparations for the Adventurer’s Guild going?” I asked. Both men looked at each other.

  “The current status is that there is no update to the status,” stated Mar. “I still need the dungeon heart shard, the Log book, and a license.”

  “And a Guild Master,” stated Blots.

  “Yes, one of those as well,” droned on Mar. “When the castle is done, you’ll get the license. When you finish the dungeon and touch the Dungeon Core, you’ll get the dungeon heart shard. Then, we’ll still need at least an Expert Scribe to write the Log book.”

  “And a Guild Master,” stated Blots.

  “Yes, some older adventurer who wants to retire and lead a bunch of young adventurers through the ropes,” continued Mar.

  “Any chance we could hire the Expert Scribe or Guild Master through the trade network?” I asked Blots.

  He responded by groaning. “Not with the town’s current reputation.”

  It was my turn to groan as I flipped over to the town Reputation meter.

  ● Windfall: Rank 1, Locally Known. Locally, your town is known to the nearby areas as a minor backwater.

  ○ Legendary Reputation(inactive): In the Past, Windfall was known as the seat of Grebthar and the valley of adventurers.

  “What reputation would we need to attract Expert Scribes?” I asked, fearing the answer.

  “At least Rank 3, Well Known, possibly Rank 4, Internationally Known. The higher the rank, the less exorbitant rate you have to pay them to come here,” stated Blots.

  “What about the legendary reputation?” I asked.

  “It is inactive,” replied Blots sadly. “If it was active, we’d already be at rank 5 or 6. In order to activate it, we’d need to have the castle fully repaired and a bunch of adventurers in the valley. Right now, it's putting the cart before the horse. ”

  That was just like any other city building game I could think of. After we got the Adventurer’s Guild built, we could build another one easy peasy. It's just that you only needed the one to get started, and it was going to be an ordeal.

  “Maybe I could find the Scribe or the Guild Master personally?” I suggested.

  “The Expert Scribe might be easier than raising the town reputation. They would just require you to develop enough of a personal reputation with them so they would willingly come to the city,” stated Mar, “Or, you know, you could get lucky with a refugee.”

  “Or you could figure out Scribery yourself,” stated Blots. My reputation for learning skills was a bit of a hassle.

  “Scribery?” I asked. There had to be a better name for it than that.

  “Yes, I could show you the basics. As an adventurer, you’d pick it up quickly,” replied Blots. That was true, but a skill like Scribe would still take me a few days of dedicated practice to get up to the Journeyman level. That was if I was lucky. The big problem was a lack of scribing equipment. Glorious Robert was bringing in plenty of squid, meaning we did have some inks. However, we lacked the facilities to make the higher quality parchment that an Expert Scribe would need to make the log book in the first place.

  I’d checked with Shart. A high-level Scribe could not only craft the specialized inks required to write higher level documents, they could also craft the paper that would be necessary to actually make the books. Then they would have to bind them, and that too would take considerable effort. In total, this log book was going to be a significant undertaking for an Expert Scribe, but it should be possible with the town’s resources behind them.

  I just needed to find the Expert Scribe.

  “Well, keep your eyes open for either. I’ll try to get the dungeon heart shard without dying horribly,” I stated.

  “Good luck,” stated Blots.

  “You’ll need it,” muttered Mar under his breath. I disliked Mar.

  I continued walking for a few more moments in silence as I considered my options. The town was located in a good spot within the valley, but we needed to get Windfall Castle restored. Until then, everything was in stasis.

  Thankfully, the stream of refugees had dwindled. I attributed that to the fact that everyone capable of making it through the Western Gate Fortress before HarCharles and TimSimons began fighting had already done so. I glanced to the east, mentally picturing the equally massive Gate of Light Feather. The Eastern Gate Fortress’ name was ostentatious enough, but I was certain there was a disappointingly stupid reason for it.

  “Why is the Western Gate Fortress just named after what and where it is? Why is the Eastern Gate Fortress named so poetically?” I asked Shart.

  “Falcon Crest,” stated Badgelor, as he wandered back over to me. “Those buggers are all about talking to the gods, and the gods like to do things fancy.“

  “Did they actually build it or something?” I asked.

  “Back in Grebthar’s day, more than half the population of this valley were from Falcon Crest. They were all trying to escape the machinations of the political establishment,” explained Shart.

  “Machinations?” I asked.

  “The ruling families kill each other a lot,” growled Badgelor. “Then, they have a little war. A bunch of people die, and they take a break for a few years.”

  “They are my favorite human kingdom on Ordinal,” grinned Shart. Badgelor used that moment to climb my leg.

  “Finished with Bashara?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. She was at the rear of the column now and seemed to be finding great mirth in Sir Dalton conversing with SueLeeta and Jarra. Both women had their arms folded underneath their breasts, very stern expressions on their faces.

  SueLeeta ruined it by glancing at Sir Dalton’s shoulders whenever he turned his head away. He did this frequently, as he appeared to be trying to dig himself out of whatever hole he’d started down.

  “Sounds terrible,” I said, returning to the conversation. I was really at a loss about gods on Ordinal. They were at least ‘little g’ gods, none of whom caused a huge existential crisis for little old me. It was sort of like learning about the Greek gods, the exception being that the ones in Falcon Crest actually could grant powers.

  “So. . .the Golf Gate,” I said, appreciating the name, “Think we could play through it?”

  “Golf gate?” asked Shart.

  “Gate of Light Feather,” I grinned. “G-O-L-F.”

  “I don’t think there will be any playing at all. The last vestiges of the trolls are there,” said Shart.

  “Just one more bogey,” I said. “I’m sure it will be rough, but we can find the sweet spot.”

  “I sure hope so,” stated Shart.

  “With all our iron, I bet we can putter through this round and drive past them!” I continued.

  Badgelor chuckled and put his head down to go to sleep. After a few more paces, he began. . . loudly snoring? It was like a small buzz saw that had a cat thrown against its blade.

  “How dangerous are dungeons, really?” I asked Shart as we continued.

  “Anywhere from easy to very dangerous,” replied the demon. “It all depends on how powerful the Dungeon Core is, and how long it's been between visits.”

  “This is a starter zone. I would assume the dungeon isn’t that dangerous. You’re saying that if the dungeon has not been visited in a very long time, it could be more dangerous?” I asked.

  “Maybe, to a point. The dungeon will continue to expand in power as it digests the energies it collected from dead adventurers,” said Shart. “After all energy has been consumed, it will degrade down to its natural level. ”

  “And it's been awhile since anyone has been here,” I said.

  “It could either be extremely dangerous or super easy,” said the demon. “I’m hoping it will be enough of a challenge for your party.”

  “So, the Dunge
on Core is really going to boost my power level?” I asked. “How many dungeons are there? If we have to keep grabbing Dungeon Cores, this has the potential to become very perilous.”

  “You might gain some skill levels in the dungeon, which would be nothing to sneeze at. You will gain a perk from a Dungeon Core. That will be one of the easiest things you could still do to significantly increase your personal power,” said Shart, before giving me the side-eye. “However, I’m kind of hoping that you’ll see how bad this could get and voluntarily hop on through the Demon Door.”

  “How bad what could get? I asked, “The dungeon, the war, or life on Ordinal?”

  “Yes,” replied Shart.

  “I highly doubt I’ll voluntarily wander in there,” I said. “You know, maybe you guys could get a second human soul and make him a new hero. Then, I would be like Merlin for you.”

  “Yeah, no, it would be nice, but it's kind of challenging to get any souls from Earth. A repeat is not expected for at least another thousand years.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” I said, thinking. “So, when was Windfall’s castle destroyed?”

  “Around 800 years ago,” replied Shart.

  “During the war with the Dark Overlord?” I asked.

  “Maybe at the tail end of it,” replied Shart. “I don’t have access to all the files down here. If you were thinking Grebthar and the Dark Overlord were battling in the valley, you can stop. It seems highly unlikely. More likely is that the minions of the Dark Overlord were still active for a time after his fall, before they got completely stamped out.”

  “His minions?” I asked.

  “His army. He had some strange name for it that no one could pronounce. They were just referred to as the Dark Overlord’s Wind,” replied Shart.

  “That doesn’t sound very scary,” I said.

  “They were a divine gale that torn the world apart,” replied Shart. “At least, I think they were.”

  “You don’t have your files. How solid is your memory?” I asked. “Are you just guessing?”

  “The castle was only torn down. The Dark Overlord had the power to banish things into other dimensions. If he’d fought there, at least some of the castle would have been annihilated. Too much of its ruins remained,” replied Shart.

  I considered that. When we’d tried to rebuild the castle, some of the materials had been missing. The missing pieces were a realistic amount for a tribe of trolls to move over the course of a few months, though. We had found a significant amount of those materials. So much that I would have wagered that the percentage missing from the castle overall was in the low single digits.

  “So, who were the Dark Overlord’s minions?” I asked.

  “You know, I think I saw a book on your bookshelf about the War with the Dark Overlord,” replied Shart. “I hear books are excellent sources of knowledge.”

  “Yeah, but why would I deprive you of the chance to hear your own self-righteous voice? You know you love explaining things to me in that ‘my companion is an idiot’ tone,” I responded.

  Shart relented, smirking at me slightly as he began. “Well, let’s see, the Dark Overlord had a horde of evil minions, all set on conquering the world. There was the Great Necromancer, the Walker of Siers, and TriBlade. They were the two commanders in the field.”

  “Let me guess, TriBlade used three swords?” I chuckled.

  “He only had one arm. He used the deadly TriBlade. It was a force to be reckoned with,” said Shart.

  “What about the other one? The Walker?” I asked.

  “He mainly complained about the choices the Dark Overlord made,” answered Shart.

  “Why did the Dark Overlord keep him around then? It seems like he would want to have yes-men around him,” I asked, considering some of the more powerful people I knew. Some people liked to surround themselves with agreeable people. Others liked to surround themselves with competent people. Some liked to have at least one person who would complain about everything, just to hear of trouble first hand. “What, did you think the Walker had blackmail information?” asked Shart honestly.

  “No, I don’t suppose,” I started, but Shart cut me off.

  “The Walker of Siers was an all-powerful Necromancer, Dum Dum. He could get away with nearly anything, because he was capable of using extremely powerful Death magic,” yelled Shart. “Seriously, do you not have powerful bearded men who, due to their skills, can get away with saying pretty much anything they want, despite a total lack of social graces?”“Yes, they work in IT,” I said glumly. “They speak the language of Cobol. It is an ancient and arcane language, seeped in a power few mortals can comprehend.”

  “Do they wear funny hats,?” asked Badgelor, snorting himself awake.

  “Some do. On a set date and time they will journey to a field wearing strange hats and pants. They will walk around a while, swinging irons to knock small balls into holes and muttering oaths to the almighty, should they fail,” I said confidently.

  “I thought your world didn’t have magic?” inquired Shart curiously.

  “Some say the entire ritual is very magical,” I said. “For most of my youth, they let a tiger play. He won a great many games.”

  “Could a badger play?” asked Badgelor, equally curious. “I’m sure I could make a better hash of it than some stupid tiger.”

  “The tiger had been training to play ever since he was a cub,” I said, looking over at Badgelor.

  “Knocking balls into holes with iron sounds easy,” replied Badgelor. ‘There is a long history of animals being successful at the game. There was a golden bear who played when I was a wee child,” I grinned. “So, an angry badger would probably do just fine.”

  “What about me?” whined Shart.

  “No, sorry. To my recollection, no large zits ever played,” I commented.

  Badgelor laughed. Shart harrumphed but still continued his history lesson.

  “Next, the Dark Overlord had the Great Dragon Omnislaughter. His breath weapon was pure living Plasma. That’s one of the advanced energy types, so it was next to impossible to block,” stated Shart.

  “Living Plasma?” I asked.

  “BioPlasma would be the more modern name for it,” replied the demon. “Normally, plasma is created by combining an Aeromancy rune and a Flameology rune. BioPlasma is a combination of a Biological Aeromancy rune and a Flameology rune.”

  “That sounds awesome! Can I learn that?” I asked.

  “It's a very high-level skill. You’d need to have a very high degree of skill in both spell types and the ability to control your Mana to at least Master level. When you combine two kinds of magic, they are normally incompatible and cause feedback. However, if you are supremely skilled, you can merge the two,” replied Shart. “Understand that when I say ‘you’, I don’t mean you personally, Dum Dum. You would almost certainly die if you attempted it. I was using the word ‘you’ in a much more generalized capacity.’ He grinned at me, looking me up and down. “If you did attempt it, you’d blow your arms off, at the very least.”

  “And that would be inconvenient for you,” I said. “Were there any others?”

  “Only the Dark Overlord’s arbiter and assassin. She was the most deadly of them all,” replied Shart. “She was so good at her job, most of the world doesn’t even know she existed.”

  “But you do, of course,” I replied.

  “Of course.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Even without your files here?”

  “I remember good work when I read about it.” Shart responded.

  “The assassin did good work?” I asked.

  “She was. . .very creative. From what I have read, she seems to be the most interesting of all the people to have existed on Ordinal.”

  “Oh, I see. You would admire a professional murderer. It’s so obvious,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “So, get on with it. Don’t make me ask you her name,” I grumbled.

  “Let me properly finish my story. She sat on a throne of Blac
k Quartz, a throne that previously belonged to a long dead god. From her throne, she judged those that came before her. She was known as the Sphinx.”

  “I thought you said that a Sphinx was a creature,” I said.

  “She had a name, but her title was Sphinx of the Black Quartz,” grumbled Shart. “You ruined my story.”

  “Well, I’m guessing all of them are long dead, now” I said.

  “Unless they figured out the trick to immortality,” replied the demon.

  Chapter 24: The Phoenix Moon Beckons

  “The castle is shaping up nicely,” said Fenris, as we continued walking through the hallway of the castle toward the dungeon door. With the band working its magic and the construction teams pitching in, the castle was. . .still nowhere near being done. They had finished enough of the first floor that we didn’t have to climb over anything to get into the dungeon, though. This part of the castle was ‘done’, so there were no stray blocks of stone flying around in all directions. It was a good thing; this could have been dangerous if not for that

  “I want my lute back,” grumbled SueLeeta, as we continued walking. The crowd that had followed us out of Windfall had finally said goodbye. Most of the villagers headed back to the village. Those that remained were planning on resuming work on the castle.

  “You mean your lyre?” asked Fenris, walking past us in the opposite direction. SueLeeta stuck her tongue out at him as the Warden began to gather our supplies from the back of the wagon.

  “Is it a lute or a lyre?” I asked.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” SueLeeta replied. “A lute usually has a body under the neck where the strings pass. It gives you a richer sound. A lyre is basically just naked strings. My lute has a bit of a body, but not as much as you’d expect for a typical lute. The neck has more strings than a lute, too, making it sound more like a lyre. It's a magical instrument. I don’t really care what it is. I just want it back. I’ll be glad when the castle is finished, and it is returned.”

  “Oh,” I said softly, a bit disappointed. It wasn’t entirely them sending us off. There were still between fifty and 100 Windfallians at the castle on an average day. Even the holiday hadn’t stopped the need for the Militia to protect the place.