DAS? What is that? Fred was about to ask his friend when he saw one of the other residents of Northend bring over a huge stack (though not as big as their own) of furs, using them to barter for things that the merchant brought up from the south. Regnark had tried to explain the trade system to him, but now that he could see it in action – it made more sense.
Here in the north, so far from “civilization” (or at least what Regnark called it), they didn’t have easy access to things like spices, cloth, tools, weapons, or even basic metal implements. They had fur – and lots of it. So they had to trade it for those things they didn’t have, where the merchant would bring the furs back down south and sell it down there for a profit, whereby he/she/whoever would buy more supplies and bring them back up north. It seemed like a simple system to him, but until he saw it working it had been beyond him.
He hadn’t really “met” any of the other Northend men (apparently, there were no women in the village), but they all looked very similar to Regnark: large, fur-covered, and hairy. What he did find out was that they weren’t as friendly as his new companion; they were gruff in their dealings with each other, and doubly so with Fred. Regnark said it was because it took a certain type of person to live so far up north (Fred briefly wondered what he would think about Fred coming from even farther north), loners and outcasts, usually – who didn’t “play nice with others”.
If that wasn’t enough to display their attitude, they also kept calling him a little girl because he didn’t have any facial hair – like, any at all. He had a head full of straight dark-brown hair on the top of his head, which, according to his memories, had grown until he was about 4 years old and had stopped. It grew down to his shoulders, but it was almost as if it decided that it didn’t want to grow longer than that; he remembered scorching off a portion of it back home in a mock-fight with a small lava salamander, and when it grew back it stopped at the previous length.
Their demeanor toward him meant that he didn’t seek to befriend them; it also showed itself when the man currently doing some bartering with the merchant roared out, “You’re a greedy bastard! Just six months ago, the same amount of furs would’ve gotten me ten times what you’re offering me!” Big, meaty hands reached out for the blank-faced merchant (who was dressed warmly if plainly, though without the furs), but were stopped when the three guards pulled their swords from their sides faster than Fred thought possible.
With three sharp pointed pieces of metal surrounding his neck, the man lowered his hands and froze, eyes bulging out of his head as he tried to stare down at them.
“Thrax, that’s enough; this gentleman was just expressing his frustrations about supply and demand, which I completely understand. With the coming spring and summer down south, the demand for your furs has dropped off precipitously; along with the mild winter, the supply of furs of all types is a bit heavy still. In opposition to that, the supply of my goods here are finite and in high demand; added to the extreme hardships I encountered on my travels through the waning winter season, I think the price is more than reasonable for you fine folks here.”
That was a lot for Fred to take in, but it did explain a lot. The guards lowered their weapons from the Northend man’s neck, though they did keep them at the ready should he turn out to be “unreasonable”. However, having been sufficiently put in his place and realizing that there was nothing he could do, the man only grumbled as he received in return a few small packages for his own trade goods.
After that, there wasn’t anything more than disappointed looks and dissatisfied rumblings from the rest. When it came time for their own transaction, he could tell that Regnark received much less than he was expecting, as well. However, they were able to get the supplies they needed with their furs even if they couldn’t get what his friend wanted: a few new skinning knives and odds and ends.
Regnark ended up having to break out some of what he called his “reserve fund”, a small pouch filled with discs of different sizes and metals. “If it keeps up like this, the people of Northend will suffer in the future. We can survive without the different things that merchants bring here, but things break and wear out over time. It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s comfortable; if we can’t afford to pay for the small luxuries every once in a while, it won’t be even that,” he told Fred, once they had gone back to their house and put their purchases away.
“What are those little discs you gave the merchant?”
“You don’t even remember money? Boy, you’ve really got to go see a healer down south sometime to see if they can fix your memory.” Regnark shook his head in astonishment, before bringing out the pouch again. “See here, this is a copper piece – the most common and, therefore, worth the least,” he said, while showing Fred a flat circular wafer that was a tarnished light-brown color. At some point, it must’ve had some sort of picture of a head on it, though it was so worn that only the barest hint of it remained.
Next, he brought out a silver piece, slightly larger than the copper piece and with less wear, showing even more of the still detail-less head. “It’s worth 100 of the copper pieces, so it is much more valuable.” From what Fred could see, Regnark had about a dozen of the silver pieces, which he thought was impressive; the extra supplies they had paid for with the metal pieces only cost a little over a single silver piece.
However, he was even further impressed when Regnark brought out a single, shiny, barely worn gold piece. “This is all I have left from…before I came here. It’s worth 100 silver pieces; it sounds like a lot, but even this won’t help if we get too many years like this last one. And I’m the lucky one here, because most of the others in Northend probably don’t have more than a couple of silver to their names.”
He saw Regnark quickly put the gold piece back in his pouch, as if having it out in the air might endanger it. I wonder if I can Create more of these? Although he didn’t really care for the others in Northend, he didn’t want his friend to suffer; he knew he would have to leave eventually to get on with his quest to find out who killed his parents and why they did it. If I left him with a bag full of gold coins, however, I think he’d probably be alright.
He remembered seeing something in his Dungeon Core System guide that referred to something called “Rewards”, which he had glossed over before since it dealt with the “loot” that dungeons placed around to entice humans to visit. These metal pieces were in there somewhere, but he didn’t know what they were or what they looked like, so he had ignored it previously.
He hadn’t pulled up the learning plans and courses since before he arrived in Northend, because he both didn’t have time or the need; since he was learning about the human world, he didn’t think it had anything to contribute. He had pulled up his Dungeon Core Status many times – but that was it. When he tried to open the menus now – to look at the “Rewards” section again – it wouldn’t work.
It was just…gone.
Chapter 11
A month later, Fred hiked along the road to the south – though calling it a “road” wasn’t quite what he had been told they were normally like; it was more like a slightly larger than normal game trail. If he didn’t have to follow it to find the next closest village, he would’ve felt better just traveling through the forest – he was much more comfortable with that. However, as he didn’t know exactly where he was going other than “south”, he felt it was better to stick to the known path.
It had grown warm enough that he felt comfortable making the journey without the fur around his body, though it was still cool enough to need his coat. Theoretically, he didn’t need any of it, but he didn’t want to use any of his mana up when he didn’t need to. Especially since he had used a sizable chunk of it just before he left.
Dungeon Core Status
Fredwynklemossering
Core Faction: ********
Core Age: 1
Core Structure Level: 1
Fire Mana: 32/118
Water Mana: 31/117
U
nconverted (Unusable) Mana: 4119
Skills
Master Mana Sight: 100%
Novice Mana Communication: 1%
Novice Mana Absorption: 61%
Novice Mana Conversion: 19%
Novice Mana-formed Object Creation: 22%
Novice Core Crystallization: 14%
Novice **** Mana-formed Object Creation: 20%
Dungeon Information
(none)
He had been frantic when he found out that his whole system guide had disappeared, and it had taken a better part of a day to calm down enough to really investigate what had happened. Fortunately, Regnark just thought Fred was demonstrating one of his weird “quirks”, so the hysterical and desperate look he was sure he was exhibiting passed by with barely a note. Especially when he learned that his skills were all still working.
The only thing he hadn’t done since he woke up in Regnark’s home was to attempt to create another mana-formed object; he hadn’t done so out of fear, but now he needed to do it to fight back the concern that he had lost everything. He wasn’t so foolish as to try to make another fur like the one that caused everything to go sideways; instead, he made the only thing he had been repeatedly successful at: his knife.
He did it while Regnark was asleep that night, knowing that if something went completely wrong – he’d at least have help nearby. And if it killed him, then that’s just the way it was supposed to go; he couldn’t live life being too scared to find out it would work or not.
Fortunately, he was successful! The process went as flawlessly as it had before, perhaps even smoother because his mana wasn’t being strained to help keep him alive at the same time. With that success, he decided to go ahead and try to make a gold piece. And was met with a very unsuccessful result.
The vaguely circular hunk of light-yellow metal that he held in his hand after his first attempt didn’t appear to resemble a gold piece in any way, shape, or form. He not only thought that it wouldn’t pass for the real thing, he figured it couldn’t even be considered valuable. It didn’t look to have the same weight to it as the real one, it had a dull sheen to its appearance, and the head and face that had been detailed on it was a formless blob.
What am I doing wrong? Everything he had created successfully before had been made with only slight variations to their look, even the strange-looking “boots” he had cobbled together (which Regnark had conveniently misplaced, making him a better pair as a replacement). Then he remembered from the system guide that the way to successfully create something was to really know what he was making; he mistakenly thought he just needed to see an object to get an idea of what he wanted to create, and it would be done.
The ones that hadn’t worked so well, for instance the trap and the Dire Wolf pelt, were things that he had seen before, but didn’t know exactly how they worked or how they felt in his hands. Although he had seen the gold piece, it was only a brief look and he hadn’t really gotten a good “feel” for it. I wonder if I need to actually handle it to “know” it.
He experimented that night with a couple of things on Regnark’s walls that he had never touched or handled before: a purely decorative wooden figure that the burly human had carved with his own knife, a short sword that was about three times as long as Fred’s knife, and a couple other random things that he hadn’t ever had the need or inclination to touch before.
He first tried to make the wooden figure, that he had seen every day, without touching it – which ended up a shapeless hunk of wood. A failure, though it was unmistakably wood. Since I’ve handled wood before, does that mean I can replicate the material, just not the exact shape I want? He was going to try some of that later, but he wanted to continue his experiment.
Taking down the figure of a small, realistic-looking bear, he held it in his hands; he ran his fingers over every inch of it, feeling the grain of the wood and noticing a small chip that had been knocked off of one its paws, leaving it with only one toe on its left hind leg. A few minutes later, he put it back on the wall shelf and stepped back.
He visualized it in his head and pictured not only how it looked, but how it felt and even smelled. When he thought he had it in his mind, he pushed his mana into it, holding his hands out to appear. When it materialized whole and complete inside his cupped hands, he almost yelled out with joy! He restrained himself, however, since he didn’t want to wake Regnark up.
Both attempts had only taken 2 mana each, and since he was essentially full of mana – other than the 12 he had used on making another knife – he decided to attempt something else with the bear figure. Instead of making a whole new one, he took his copy and visualized what it would look like if the chip hadn’t been on the hind leg. He had been able to fix the damage on his knives over time by visualizing them gone, but he had made an entirely new one – not altering what was already present.
With the visual based upon what the other toes looked like in his head, he poured some mana into it and was surprised that it shut off almost as soon as it began. Before he could even wonder if something had gone wrong, his figurine had gained some extra toes – right where the damaged section had been! When he looked at his mana, it hadn’t even used a single point.
He tried the same with everything else he picked up that night, including the short sword which took nearly 30 mana to initially create – though the wear-and-tear he repaired on it took a whopping 1 point to fix. So repairing things take much less mana to fix, but it’s not free.
Over the next month, Fred practiced using his skill to repair everything he could see inside and out of Regnark’s house. Not only was it all good practice, but it made him touch everything – which he then knew he could recreate at any time he wanted. The only thing he wasn’t able to touch was the pouch containing all of the copper, silver, and gold pieces – Regnark always kept it around his neck, even when he was asleep and during his weekly washings. Fred might be new to human society, but even he knew that asking to see something that was obviously so valuable to the man was probably not the best idea. So, he waited.
He finally got the chance to see some of the copper “coins” weeks later, though it wasn’t exactly the way he was hoping for.
After arriving back at Regnark’s house a day of hunting, Fred was helping to prepare dinner when he saw that their salt was running low. Thinking about the merchant who had promised to be back in a few days hence with more supplies, he remembered the guards who had protected him and about Regnark’s disdain and comments about them.
“Regnark, do you remember those merchant guards that were up here about a month ago?”
The big man was cleaning up the rest of their gear they had deposited on the floor after getting back with a big buck, which took most of their strength to carry (well, at least most of Fred’s strength – Regnark never looked to get tired even if he were to carry it himself). “Yes, what about them?”
“I remember you said something about them being ‘dropouts’, or something like that. What does that mean?”
There were a few times when Fred was asking questions that it was obvious the burly man didn’t want to talk about something; he usually paused for a few seconds before answering, and when he finally did, his tone usually made it plain that he would answer only what he wanted to and wouldn’t answer any more along those lines again. It came across so clear that every time Fred heard the tone, he knew better than to dig deeper.
Unfortunately, after hearing the answer, this was not one of those times.
After waiting a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure out what to say, Regnark reluctantly said, “I’m sure if you ever head south, you’ll probably learn all about the DAS, so I might as well tell you now.” He then took on a lecturing tone, one that Fred remembered hearing from his parents so many times when they were trying to teach him something that was important for him to learn.
“The Dungeon Adventurer Syndicate, otherwise known as the DAS, is an organization that recruits, trains, and encourages it
s members to delve into any of the – reportedly – millions of dungeons, looking for precious loot. When they then bring that loot or treasure back, the DAS takes a sizable cut of the total treasure found inside whatever dungeon they had looted, thereby lining their pockets as a result of the blood, sweat, and tears the ‘adventurers’ shed to get the hard-earned riches.”
This sounds exactly what I need! I bet I could find some of these DAS people to help me get into a dungeon, so I can find out who killed my parents! Fred’s excitement was a little too obvious when he asked for more information about the organization.
“NO,” Regnark roared out, “I’ve told you enough – that’s all I’ll say about them.”
Fred couldn’t let it go though, as it was the first lead that he had on obtaining allies to further his objective. Therefore, his brain ignored Regnark’s tone and warning signs about venturing too far in his questioning. “How is it I can go about joining this Dungeon Adv—"
“I will NOT be party to ANOTHER young man going to their death, looking for a way to get rich quickly. In fact, I want you out of here tomorrow, if this is your goal. You can stay the night, but in the morning – you’re gone. I’ll pack a bag of food for you that should last a couple of days and I’ll even give you a couple of my precious copper pieces; I don’t want you telling everyone I left you on the side of the road without anything to your name.” He threw on his coat again and slammed the door on the way out, ignoring Fred’s apologies and pleas for him to stay.
Regnark didn’t come back that night, at least not while Fred was awake, but there was a bag sitting in the middle of the table in the morning. This was not what I intended…I need to watch my mouth in the future. There were any number of places the burly man was probably located, and Fred thought he might be able to track him down if he really tried; he felt really bad about the damage he had caused to their friendship, especially since he didn’t have a single other friend in the entire world. However, he wasn’t experienced enough with social interactions to know how to fix it. There should be a skill on my status that says Extreme Novice in Relationships.
Dungeon World: A Dungeon Core Experience Page 8
