The Guild Core: The Complete Saga Boxset: A LitRPG Dungeon Adventure

by TJ Reynolds

  After they’d finished their noon meal, however, and had started grinding their way into the bowels of the Mirin Swamps, they’d run across their first Fell Bully.

  Resembling grotesquely large bullfrogs, the mobs had black skin and twisted horns on the ridges of their bodies. So random were these malformations that at first Kai had thought the beast just another gnarled stump. Walking past it without a care in the world, Kai would forever remember his folly.

  Their attacks were two-fold. As Kai stepped past the huddled beast, roughly the size of a half-grown pig, its tongue exploded from its mouth and slammed into his side. No poison or barbs armed the tip of the tongue, but rather a thick calcification. It felt to Kai like a boulder had smacked him, and he tumbled to the ground, his breath knocked out of him for a few terrible moments.

  The chain mail had diffused the impact somewhat, but Kai still thought he might have cracked a rib. Hours later, it still hurt to breathe.

  Lifting up his head and staring at the oncoming monster was the most Kai could do. That was when Ban had used one of the champion’s skills and saved his scrawny behind. It was yet another piece of information the Earth Core had hidden from him for some reason.

  Even as the Bully lowered its head to ram into Kai, Ban fell from the sky, his mouth gaping open to show the fine needles of his teeth, and then he screamed. Ripples of black energy erupted from the champion’s throat, slashing through the Bully and tossing it aside like a leaf in a windstorm.

  They found the beast almost twenty feet away and Kai killed it, stabbing his glaive into its spine. The Bully’s skin had broken apart and it oozed blue blood.

  The Gargen Roar, as Ban had called the skill, was an eruption of ether that caused a lot of damage. It took so much ether to fuel the ability, however, that Ban could only use it twice a day.

  They’d fought for a good long while over the dungeon’s omission, with Ban defending his constant need to surprise Kai, until the Earth Core at last agreed to tell him the full extent of his abilities.

  Pressing his point for insisting on the disclosure, Kai had found his own patience on the matter stretching thin. Ban, I know you derive great satisfaction from surprising me. The gifts, the secrets, the endless insights, but this has gone too far! This mission is very dangerous, and if you don’t agree to tell me everything you know, when you know it, I’ll simply head back now! Do you understand?

  Ban had sulked a few moments until Kai repeated the question out loud, his voice ringing disturbingly across the expanse of the swamp. “Yes, Kai,” Ban had replied through his champion’s mouth. “I understand. I can tell you more about my gargat then and agree to keep you informed in the future. I’m sorry.”

  Then the Earth Core divulged the extent of his champion’s abilities, going into greater details than Kai had hoped.

  Not only could the gargat hear and smell better than a blood hound, he could also see as well as Kai, and even better in the dark. His claws and fangs were natural weapons, but another skill that he’d wanted to keep a secret, or as Kai suspected, was perhaps a bit ashamed of, was the Chiroptera Spit: a viscous gob of acidic spittle the little beast could rocket from his mouth over thirty feet.

  Their progress had become slower and more methodical as they encountered many more Fell Bullies. Keeping them at a distance and using his glaive to channel Flame Darts before rushing in for killing blows, they’d managed to take down almost thirty of the creatures. Kai was nearing Amber 2 by the time they were ambushed by the first swarm of Midgelings.

  “I understand your frustration, Kai, but any honorable dragon would never consider genocide an acceptable option, regardless of how obnoxious his adversaries proved to be. Besides,” Ban’s reedy voice lectured, “I think we’ve seen the last of them, anyhow. The last two groups were smaller than the rest.”

  Kai nodded and pulled out a waterskin. Ban flew off and came back in a few minutes with two dead fish. He devoured them, and Kai shuddered, unable to look away. His friend finished his meal in seconds, then looked up, golden eyes blinking owlishly.

  “You know, Ban,” Kai said, “you act different than I thought you would when in that thing. Your table manners are… less refined than I might have imagined.”

  Ban’s forehead wrinkled, and a high-pitched growl emanated from his throat.

  Kai laughed and patted his dungeon’s creature on the head. “I’m sorry. It must be a very strange experience, inhabiting a body for the first time. Now, are you ready to go a bit further? Seems a bit early to break for camp; I’d kill for somewhere dry to sleep. I fear I know the answer already, but tell me, will there ever be a break in this terrain?”

  “Sorry to be the rainy cloud here, my dragonling, but the only dry place in this swamp will be inside that dungeon,” Ban replied, “and that’s if it hasn’t been submerged or changed in some way.”

  Grumbling, Kai put away his water and shouldered his pack again. Night was approaching, and he wanted to make it a bit further.

  This far in, the swamp was as dismal as its reputation claimed. The trees stood as if alive, but their trunks and branches were black, their leaves long since fallen. Oddly, few trees fell over. The swamp’s blight somehow inhabited them, lived within them. Kai wondered if it were some living thing, almost like a fungus, that took over the trees and kept them upright long after their deaths.

  The only plants that thrived here were tall water weeds that thrust their thin spears skywards. They were only a few feet tall, but grew so densely in places that they provided perfect homes and hiding places from which the Fell Bullies and Midgelings sprung their ambushes.

  Two such patches of the reeds grew thick up ahead, presenting a single relatively dry if narrow path to walk through. Immediately, Kai assumed they would be ambushed by Bullies or Midgelings. Maybe by both, though that hadn’t happened yet. Perhaps the two creatures weren’t on friendly terms.

  You ready for another fight? Kai asked Ban who was flapping a dozen or so feet above him in the air.

  I was thinking the same, his friend thought back. It’s pretty quiet. Would you care to make a wager?

  Kai grinned, and answered, Midgelings. I’m guessing seven or eight of the bastards.

  Blast. I was going to guess Midgelings too. Okay, I’ll go with Bullies then. And if you’re going to be so specific, then, five of them. His dungeon warmed to the contest. If I win, you read to me from whatever book I choose when we return.

  Fine, Kai said, knowing exactly what he wanted for a prize. If I win, you learn how to heat my bath water.

  Kai ignored the petulant grumbling from the Earth Core. Something about fleshy fool and wouldn’t know a pin from a pin cushion. He suppressed his mirth, however, for the impending attack made the air practically bristle with tension.

  He trod down the narrow path, glaive held loosely in both hands. His Flame Dart spell but a breath away, just waiting to be released.

  A pocket of mud squelched loudly at his next step and Kai flinched. Freezing a moment, Kai pulled his boot free and looked around. One good thing about wearing boots that fit you was that, when properly laced, they were near impossible to lose in a bog.

  He’d already pulled his feet out of the mud dozens of times today, so much so that his hips hurt from the lifting. Kai’s breathing was shallow and quiet, the only other sounds were a few buzzing insects and Ban’s wings working at the air.

  It was a marvel how quiet Ban’s wings were. They were large, perhaps five feet wide, but the way he flapped made them cut the air instead of buffeting it. Kai knew he could become a stealthy hunter if he practiced.

  Kai’s suspicion peaked until he came to the end of the narrow passageway between the foliage. Then he shook his head, flummoxed.

  Ahead a patch of scrawny trees grew around a shallow pool. The water was almost completely covered by a thick mat of algae. The stuff grew like tufts of messy hair in every bit of water they’d seen, greenish brown, and slick. Thinking about how it resembled hair gave Kai the
shivers; he imagined a body floating face down, long since dead and decayed, but for the scalp that lived on to continue growing its tangled hair.

  Now I’m just scaring myself, Kai said, trying to find his spine once more. He closed his eyes and breathed a few moments. No more thoughts of creepy things that aren’t real, he decided, before opening his eyes once more and walking forward.

  He scanned ahead but the reeds that grew along the side of the pool were too small to hide even a Midgeling. Beyond, however, about fifty feet away, he saw another patch of reeds growing densely together.

  Perhaps there, the beasties would attack.

  Another step and his boot sank into the mud, a spray of water jetting up to his crotch and across the pool. He cursed and tried to pull his foot free. It sucked at him, and he nearly toppled forward.

  His foot remained glued in place.

  As he contemplated whether or not he should keep pulling or use his glaive to pry his foot free—something he’d been forced to do only once previously—a form exploded from the pool beside him. Massive spidery legs lifted a hideous creature, a pair of long palps opening wide to release a hate-filled screech so loud, he nearly dropped his weapon.

  Kai stared up into the wet, black eyes of a Miremog and wisely, screamed back.

  26

  A Night Out, on Mindonne Town

  Rhona

  “By all the yeasty goodness of Andag’s curly thatch, this place smells wonderful!” Rhona cried as she blundered through the doors of the bakery. It hadn’t been hard to find Winford’s. All she had to do was follow the plume of heavenly bliss. Who knew bread smelled so good? I’ll eat seven times seven loaves and leave so fat they can just roll me home.

  The inside of the shop was modest. A few tables at the front took the place of a counter, an actual glass-lined box sitting on top of one of them. A few lamps lit the interior, and everything was golden. Rhona hadn’t recalled seeing such a fine establishment in her life, and she inspected the line of baskets along one side of the store, empty now, except for the crumbs of the day’s bread.

  Two customers still lingered, squabbling over the prices of something, and Rhona snorted. “What kind of wool-headed ass would argue over the price of bread?” she asked aloud, inspecting a small painting on the wall. It was a quaint thing, a pond with a cabin beside it, the tiny figures of an old man and a boy fishing.

  The front door slamming made Rhona turn to see the two customers leaving. One gave her a nasty look, but rather than be offended, Rhona just laughed. “If she knew how very much her neck looked like a sow’s nethers, she wouldn’t go about so high and mighty,” she said.

  “And what do we have here? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.” Rhona turned to see a red-cheeked man whose eyes were so bright and happy, she was certain he was the one responsible for the delightful scents that floated throughout the village.

  “I’m Rhona Bloodspar. Was a soldier but gave it up. I’m a monk now. Swore to never hold a sword again, but for a loaf of that bread, I might break that oath.”

  The man nodded, his eyebrows doing a funny dance above his face. “That’s great news. Name’s Winford, and I, for one, am glad you don’t have a sword on ya. Now, tell me, have you had a few drinks tonight, miss?”

  “No. Though that does sound like a fine idea. Do you make the bread, then? And might you have anything sweeter?”

  Thankfully, the man disappeared behind his shabby counter and gestured to the glass box. “You’re in luck, Rhona Bloodspar. I keep the sweets in here. You’ll find nothing more delicious for days.”

  Rhona pressed her nose to the smooth glass, and relished the gentle warmth that passed through. “Wow. They’re beautiful, Winford. What’s that one?” she asked.

  “The one you’re drooling over is a molasses bun, black walnuts rolled into it as well. This one here is honey, cloves, and cardamom traded to us from Kaltan.” The baker pointed to the other side of the warm display base. “But this, Rhona, I feel will be your favorite.”

  She looked where he was pointing and her mouth fell open. One hand-sized bun was left, spun around itself and shimmering with a white glaze.

  “That is a new creation. I call it a cinnamon roll, and I can barely keep it on the shelves. The glaze is made of cream and white sugar, and the whole thing is soggy with melted butter.” She locked eyes with the man through the rippling glass. Then he asked, “Did you by chance come from the herbalist’s? From Miss Pliernum’s, that is?”

  Rhona nodded, her eyes returning to the treats. “She’s a nice little gnome. They’re good folk, despite what everyone tries to say otherwise.”

  Winford agreed, and inquired once more, “And did she give you a few seeds to… ease your mind?”

  “Yes, three little things. Tasted a bit sour but I’ve felt much better since. I think you’re right, Winford.” She licked her lips. “That cinnamon roll looks divine.”

  “That makes sense. My wife and I lost a babe a few years back, and we visited Miss Pliernum as well. She gave my wife three little seeds and we both had quite the interesting night. It helped though.” Then, seeing she cared less for his words than the roll before her, he threw up his hands and announced, “Here, I’m just gonna give it to you.”

  He handed it to Rhona on a plate, and she sank down to the floor, slouching somewhat as she took a bite of the treat, groaning indecently as the treat took over her senses.

  “Okay. I suppose it’s fine to call it a night,” Winford said. Rhona watched him absently as he latched the front door and closed the few shutters that opened out onto the street. He blew out a lantern and shouted, “Sorcha! We’re closing early tonight. Please, deliver the rest of what we have to Missus Rinters!”

  A young woman shouted back for him to hold his horses, then Rhona heard Winford rummaging behind the counter and when he emerged, she looked up and told him flatly, “If you’re planning anything creepy, I should warn you. I could kill you 20 ways without resorting to my imagination.”

  He blanched and shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. I just figured you needed some company.” And then he sat down opposite her and ate his own sweet bread, the one with black walnuts if her memory served her. They shared a few minutes of silence, broken only by the occasional groan of pleasure as one or the other took another bite.

  When they finished, Rhona leaned back and belched loud enough to make the curtains rumble.

  “Well done. A fine display, young Rhona,” Winford chuckled and gathered their plates up and set them on the counter. He reached down and gave her a hand up, which she accepted gladly.

  “Thank you, Winford.” She gave him a polite bow. “Now, didn’t you say something earlier about a drink?”

  The trip across town was as colorful as it was challenging to navigate. Winford was a saint, always helping Rhona recover her footing and reminding her of their honorable goal. Mindonne was a lovely town, and Rhona admired its elegant simplicity.

  Thoughts of her own hometown flitted through her mind, and rather than recoil from vile memories of her father, she teared up instead. She remembered moments of joy, childhood adventure, and the comfort of familiarity. Her life had been blessed, something to look back on fondly. Only recently, had the shadows grown too long, blotting out her perspective.

  With a sigh, she wiped her face and entered Miss Colmer’s establishment with a sloppy grin on her face.

  Rhona soon found herself seated at a table in the corner of the inn, a steaming meat pie and a chilled ale before her.

  “Something about it,” Rhona declared with the gravest conviction. “Small towns like these have the best ale. Am I wrong? No pub in Creshon could serve a mug this fine.”

  Winford laughed loud enough to draw a few eyes. “I would love nothing more than to agree with you, but I happen to know that this is Migdon’s Ale, bought from a caravan that delivers goods directly from the capital. You’re drinking the same ale, girl, that’s served in pubs throughout the capital.”

&nb
sp; “Chalk it up to atmosphere then and fine companionship.” She threw Winford a wink then fell to devouring the pie again. When they finished, Rhona sat and admired the lovely inn. It was plain but every corner was tidy and the lamps burned clean oil. This would be a nice place to bed a fellow, if she were in the mood. The thought made her laugh and she downed the rest of her mug.

  Winford asked in a careful tone, “I wonder what it is you’re about, Rhona. You’ve come from somewhere else and had a heart heavy enough that the herbalist gave you her special seeds. Why are you here, and where are you going?”

  Rhona met his gaze and observed the man for a moment. His face was handsome and doing its best to fight the ravages of time. Lucky wife, she supposed, not as much for his looks but for the kindness in his heart.

  “The apple of Andag’s eye. That’s what you are, Winford.” She sighed wistfully. “What happened to you that made you push to such lengths of kindness? Lose a friend?”

  Winford winced and his head dropped. Rhona thought he wouldn’t answer, but after a few moments, he lifted his head and told her, “A child. Our second, and the only boy. Died a few months after birth; it nearly broke me. Then one night, I was drunk as I could get on this very same ale, and after I had passed out next to my despairing wife, Andag spoke to me. Told me that should I show kindness to those around me, my heart would mend over the years enough to be there for my wife and daughter.”

  “Was he right?” she asked.

  “Aye. I suppose he was.” The baker nodded slowly. “Now, what do you say we get two more of these and you answer my blighted question?”

  They hailed the only server present who bustled about with practiced precision. Guilt couldn’t touch Rhona in her current state, but she did feel that Winford’s honesty had earned a bit of her own. So, she told him her business.

  “You see, Winford. I’m as true to Brintosh as any great lord or champion. But since I’ve chosen a different path, I can’t sit back idly to let another generation of fools head off to a fruitless war. The best-case scenario for such a conflict, is that Hintar is destroyed utterly. Backed against a wall and slaughtered like a few starving gnomes.”