Delvers LLC: Adventure Capital

by Blaise Corvin

  “Got it,” replied Henry. Tony just nodded and moved forward to inspect the tables. Henry moved to the other side of the room to check out the items on display. The goblins didn’t say anything about it, but he immediately noticed a slight haze over all the items on the table. “Don’t touch anything!” he called back to Tony.

  “Don’t worry I saw it too,” the young man responded.

  After he’d made a complete circuit, being careful not to touch anything, Henry frowned. There was definitely less loot than he had expected for such a large, dangerous dungeon. But more importantly, he wondered what was going on with the energy field over all the items. It made sense that the loot would be protected since the goblins knew how to get into the chamber. Otherwise, they probably would have stolen it or gotten rid of it all ages ago. “How do we remove the protection?”

  Hask spat something in Gholis, and Trask translated, “We do not know. It is a secret and a mystery from the time of the covenant. We are sure the Voice will know what to do.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. More tests, Christ. Instead of arguing, he decided to try an experiment.

  “What do we do now?” Tony spoke English.

  “Just give me a minute,” replied Henry in English.

  “What language is that?” Trask’s eyes gleamed.

  Henry switched to Luda. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Uh, young goblin, gob-folks, whatever.” Trask didn’t move so Henry growled at the young goblin, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward. Trask’s green face grew dark, and he scurried back, folding his hands and slumping his shoulders, looking weak. His mannerisms resembled a dog that had just been nipped by another dog. Henry didn’t believe the show for a second. He knew the interpreter was still watching and listening like a hawk.

  Cautiously, Henry reached out with his Mind Whip ability, bracing himself before he touched the strange protective field. He felt a buzzing, a strange pressure between his eyes, but he could handle it. The sensation was almost like touching an electric fence that was hooked to his brain. He smiled slightly as the underlying feeling registered and he realized it felt familiar.

  Hell of a coincidence, he thought. The field felt just like the sensation he’d gotten from Tony’s dagger. “Tony, wanna try touching that field with your dagger?” Henry asked in English.

  “Are you sure? Messing around with magic is dangerous.”

  “Maybe, but I’m going with my gut on this one. I think it will be okay.”

  “Well, alright.” Tony took a few quick steps forward, unsheathed his dagger, and plunged it into the field. The protective barrier immediately dropped, and the dagger grew even darker, generating a kind of dark cloud around Tony’s head. The young adventurer quickly put the weapon away, his expression unreadable.

  The goblins all bowed, one of the priests gibbering something about apologies and test in broken Luda. Henry ignored them and took a quick inventory of the loot.

  Looks kind of lame. A handful of what he assumed to be enchanted daggers, a box full of Chinese comic books from Earth, a basket of magic stones, some blessed steel tools, including a complete set of tableware, a blessed steel shovel, a few blessed steel spears, and one different looking, probably enchanted spear.

  Henry looked around and didn’t see anything else that really stood out, just a few more little gadgets and adventuring tools. The lone, unique spear had a black metal blade that was long enough to be used as a hewing weapon. Henry frowned and reached out with his Mind Whip.

  When his ability touched the weapon, he saw text scroll over his left eye:

  Vampiric Stabber

  Enchanted Spear

  0 past users

  Magic level: Medium

  Vampiric Stabber? Is that its name? Who the fuck named it, a middle school student? Henry honestly wasn’t that surprised that his ability had given him the information, but the stupid name threw him for a loop.

  He was starting to realize that his Mind Whip ability might be the single most powerful tool he had on Ludus.

  Henry looked around one more time before muttering, “What the fuck is this?” He frowned. “There has to be more than this, right?”

  “Yes, now go to most secret,” said Shaman Hask.

  The Terran man eyed her wearily. “Lead the way.”

  The gob-folk leader walked to the far wall and touched a portion of it like she had earlier. By Henry’s understanding, she disarmed three sets of traps, the faint noises only discernable because he was listening for them. His blood ran cold. This dungeon is nasty.

  Finally, Hask touched one final place on the wall, knocked in a complicated pattern, and a hidden door opened. “Every Gobskulls shaman learn this code. I will be glad that never pass it.” She gestured, and Henry strode forward, the rest of the group following him.

  At the end of the short hallway was a perfectly round room, the stone covered in alabaster. A portrait of Dolos adorned the far wall, and Henry groaned. I’m never going to get away from that motherfucker.

  Two pedestals stood in the center of the room. Whatever was on top of them was shrouded in shadow. Henry reached out with his Mind Whip again and smiled. “Tony, go do your thing, please.”

  The young adventurer nodded, moving forward to dispel both fields. After he was done, his dagger was so dark it seemed to suck in the surrounding light. Half of his body was shown in roiling shadow before the blade was sheathed again. Henry thought he should be worried, but he just didn’t have the time or energy for it. Staying upright and conscious was top on his priority list.

  He moved forward and cautiously examined the tops of the pillars. On one was a strange weapon, the likes of which he’d never seen before. In profile, it looked a lot like a Somoan war axe or club, but was made of a dull, silvery metal with dark script traveling up its haft. The grip looked like a layer of ivory, or maybe crystal.

  On the other pillar was a small animal, about the size of a puppy.

  Henry was confused. “This is this?” he asked, glancing back at Tony. Behind the young man, the goblins were all prostrate, oriented towards the little animal. What the hell? He eyed the creature, but it seemed to be sleeping deeply, so he examined the weapon again.

  Using Mind Whip, he reached out and tried to make contact gently, but as soon as he touched it, it felt like his brain was on fire. The weapon was different; something special...something like Tony’s dagger. It was not a normal enchanted weapon, not even close.

  Henry took a step back, but suddenly Tony was at his side, a hand on his stomach. The young man’s eyes gleamed strangely and his voice buzzed, almost like he was in pain. “You should take that weapon, Henry,” he said. “It isn’t meant for me.”

  Almost in a trance, Henry stepped forward, placing his hand on the weapon’s handle, his Mind Whip was still attached. As soon as he touched the grip, he saw a name:

  Meteor Origin

  Henry’s natural snark was replaced with wonder. He could somehow feel in his bones that the weapon he held in his hand possessed awesome power. Acting on instinct, he pressed the side of it to his hip...and it remained in place, riding as if it was firmly attached to his body through his clothing.

  “Okay, now that’s cool,” he muttered. He thought he heard some commotion back the way they’d come, but his thoughts felt disjointed. Henry turned to the animal and reached out with his Mind Whip, curious if he could figure out what it was.

  As soon as he made contact, his entire spirit rang like a gong. The animal yawned, displaying pearly white teeth, and opened its brilliant purple eyes. *I am awake.* The thought was more of a feeling than words, but Henry understood it all the same.

  With a lazy flick of its paws, the creature righted itself and stood up, stretching. It looked like a badger...sort of; a badger with grey and purple coloring, bright purple eyes…and if badgers could float. The creature had hopped a bit and slowly drifted over to Henry. When it got close enough, it daintily hooked its claws in Henry’s clothing and swarmed up to his shou
lder.

  Henry’s jaw dropped. “What in the—”

  The goblins on the floor were hissing, sounding terrified, all of their eyes fixed on the creature riding on Henry’s shoulder.

  “What in the fuck is this thing?” Henry asked nervously. He turned to Tony, but the young man just held his stomach, smiling sickly.

  Does he have a stomach ache? This is some seriously terrible timing. Henry opened his mouth to ask another question when a female goblin burst into the room, almost flouncing.

  She was young, probably only slightly older than Trask. The goblin girl wore sandals, what looked like leather overalls with colorful beads sewn on the bib, terminating in a skirt. She also wore a bright yellow shirt, the first true, cloth clothing item Henry had seen any goblin wear. She wore a garland of fake white plastic flowers on her head. A satchel decorated the same as her leather overall dress completed the outfit.

  “What is going on here,” she said in Luda, looking around. She barked something in Gholis and Trask looked at her from the floor, frantically gesturing.

  “Rekkla, you must…” the bespectacled goblin whined.

  The goblin girl, Rekkla, ignored him. Her gaze wandered upwards, finally settling on the creature sitting on Henry’s shoulder. She screeched and stumbled. “A memory badger! Graft zra lasltlr hagz na! It is the end of days!” The goblin girl took another step backward, tripped over a rock and fell on her butt, her eyes huge.

  Well, that’s not exactly comforting. Henry could feel the creature’s fur on his cheek. He tried to think calm thoughts and stay absolutely still.

  The strange animal poked Henry’s cheek with a cold, wet nose.

  “Oh hell,” Henry muttered. “Can I ever catch a fucking break?”

  Nibbles

  Aodh stood in the light of the early morning sun, rising in the western sky, and felt like it’d been years since he’d seen it. They were alive...somehow still alive. The surrounding forest was sure to be dangerous, but at least he wasn’t in a cave any longer.

  Shaman Hask and the other leaders of the Gobskulls had come out of the main tunnel from the goblin village to bid them farewell. The priests, in particular, seemed upset that Aodh was leaving. None of the gob-folk seemed particularly concerned about Trask...and they all avoided even looking at his sister, Rekkla.

  Eventually, all the gob-folk from the Gobskulls village had finished saying their goodbyes, leaving Aodh’s small group by themselves to start their journey.

  Behind Aodh, Henry stretched, the last night of sleep he’d had in the goblin village had done him a lot of good. Instead of appearing like he’d die at any moment, now he only looked exhausted, like he’d just fall asleep.

  The Asian man had somehow managed to shave and trim his goatee. Henry’s new acquisition, the stout, furry animal with purple highlights was playing with a pinecone at his feet. All the goblins seemed either terrified or in awe of the creature but wouldn’t discuss it. If Aodh brought it up with the priests, they suddenly had something urgent to do.

  Aodh had asked him about the creature the night before, but Henry said he didn’t know anything about it and was still deciding on a name. Sometimes when the creature was mentioned, the grizzled adventurer would look distracted, almost like he was listening to something.

  Henry’s clothes had definitely seen better days, but he was armored once again. Since the goblins didn’t have any armor that would fit a Terran, the Asian man’s bronze cuirass had been repaired enough by gob-folk smiths to be worn again. The battered armor seemed to match the rest of him now, everything except the strange, gleaming weapon at his waist.

  Aodh had a new weapon too. He spared a glance for the enchanted spear in his hand, his eyes traveling up to its dark metal business end. Henry had said its name was Vampiric Stabber. Aodh was just glad the thing didn’t talk to him, unlike another weapon he wore.

  Thinking about the dagger brought it to mind, and he felt where it was, sheathed at his lower back. It hadn’t talked to him since he’d killed the late Gobskulls head priest. Aodh had been avoiding thinking about it as much as he could ever since. He had a feeling the entire dagger would still be an inky black and would obscure him in shadow.

  Aodh really wasn’t ready to deal with that new development just yet.

  “Voice, we are ready to go now,” said Trask, hefting his pack. The young goblin held a spear with an obsidian point, and one of the enchanted daggers from the dungeon’s loot stash hung from his belt. Aodh had insisted that Trask and Rekkla both get a couple daggers from the loot. Both siblings had accepted, but when Aodh had tried to offer a new dagger to Shaman Hask or any of the priests, they’d looked like they might die of outrage.

  Perhaps Hask and Rekkla accepting a dagger was a sign of just how different they were and why the rest of the tribe was more or less exiling them. The whole thing was strange, and Aodh wanted to figure it out. He felt a growing responsibility towards the Gobskulls.

  What a strange world. Goblins were ruthless, crafty monsters. They were responsible for untold amounts of suffering and death on Ludus. All of that was still true, but Aodh couldn’t deny that he cared about this particular tribe now. They felt like HIS monsters. He wasn’t sure what to do about his new feelings yet.

  “Okay, let’s get going. Rekkla, you can make sure we get through these woods without us turning into monster food, right?”

  “Of course, Demigod,” she said to Henry. “Anything to keep the Voice safe.” Then Rekkla slowly, deliberately winked at Aodh, turned around, and swayed her hips as she walked over to her pack. She bent over in an exaggerated manner while picking up her gear. Her clothing rode up her hips and… I can see everything!

  Aodh quickly looked away, pretending to watch the tree line for threats. What in the bloody hell was she doing!? He knew he was special to these goblins, but mostly to the priests. Rekkla was acting aggressively flirty. But...she was green and came up to his chest. Was she teasing? That must be it; she was teasing him.

  Aodh glanced back and saw Rekkla had shouldered her pack, but was steadily looking over her shoulder at him. He smiled at her to let her know he was in on her joke, but she leered back, her smile showing all her pointed teeth. Her green cheeks and forehead darkened, her pointed ears quivered.

  “Hey, Tony, I need your help over here. I want to leave in ten minutes!” called out Henry, working with their provisions. The goblins had given them water and dried meats for the journey.

  “Coming!” Aodh responded, grateful for the distraction. He jogged over to Henry and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched. The space between his shoulder blades itched. He had an uncomfortable feeling that if he turned around, Rekkla would still be staring at him.

  The look in her eyes was utterly alien, a mixture of predatory hunger, awe, and something he couldn’t identify. She had to be joking with him...right?

  Suddenly, there was a flash of light, its origin only twenty feet away. Aodh was startled, but leveled his spear and stood his ground, covering his eyes with his other hand. The reaction seemed natural now, but was definitely not how he would have responded a year earlier.

  The entire group was still for a moment, waiting for signs of danger. When there was none, Henry asked, “What hell?” He cautiously plodded over to where the light had come from and grunted as he bent over to pick something up. The goateed man returned holding a small wooden box.

  Aodh was puzzled until Henry said, “It’s a spirit stone, compliments of our favorite flying asshole. There’s a little note inside.” Henry read:

  Was hoping you would not survive. Oh well. Here is the petty reward for your little kill. Work hard on producing more data. Kill more test subjects or get killed. Whatever

  -Great God Dolos

  “I really, really hate that guy,” muttered Henry.

  Rekkla growled and folded her arms. All of her flirty body language from before had vanished. “Dolos? The Dolos? The deceiver god?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry a
bout it,” replied Henry. “Tony, what the hell is this thing from? We haven’t killed any ‘Bonded or anything lately.”

  Aodh wasn't sure at first, so he held a finger up in thought. The answer came to him in a flash as he reviewed his memories before getting hit with the light weapon. “You killed that one woman right before we both almost died.”

  “Oh, that’s right. With that big circle weapon, too. Why the hell didn’t Dolos give this thing to us earlier?”

  “I don’t know why Dolos does anything.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Aodh looked around nervously.

  Henry patted his leg, looking off into the distance. He said, “Well, it doesn’t do anything for me, I need like three more stones to level up. Why don’t you take it? You should level up with one. Just make sure you swallow this thing before bed.” Henry held out the box.

  Aodh slowly took it, his hands trembling. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, go ahead. You’ve saved my ass multiple times now. It’s yours.”

  As Aodh stowed the spirit stone in his pack, Henry grimaced and mumbled, “I really need to start always carrying one of those. If I’d had my health potion, this whole cave SNAFU would have been less FU, if you know what I mean.”

  Aodh hesitantly responded, “No, I don’t really know what that means, but if you think you should carry a pack, why don’t you just carry a pack?”

  Henry gave him a level look before finally saying, “Now you sound like Jason and Mareen. It must be spreading. God, I miss my Battlewagon…” The man walked off while muttering to himself.

  Aodh watched him go, wondering if he’d said something wrong. He absently scratched his arm and turned to find Rekkla staring at him again. Her previous body language had returned full force.

  Oh, bloody hell.

  ***

  Henry scanned the forest around the little worn path he was following. The countryside was different than Tolstey, wherever it was they currently were. He still wasn’t sure—the goblins didn’t care about the city races or their maps, a fact they had not been shy to tell him many times.