Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Amaric Temple

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (5th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1047

Markus ⚜ Stonehart​

Lvl. 5 | Supporter-Paladin
Status Focused
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 6/6
Lvl. 2 3/3
Lvl. 3 1/1

TAGS Haze- ERode November Witch Carolyn

What Markus saw was the pot beginning to bubble. All the right ingredients had been brought together, what mattered now is how well they worked together as they stewed and just how hot the flame was. In truth, the group was proving more promising with each round of revision. If left to their own devices, they might have ran in head first with little plan or cohesion. Now, in no more than five minutes, they had learned more about each other. What they could do, how they thought, who would be the first to throw themselves on a blade and who would be the first to swing it.

Symphony and Heleni proved the most tactical. There were no mages for her to defend in the backline, so her threads would only ever be used from the front. Heleni meanwhile hadn't secured the support of the group to scout, but that type of faith came in time.

Leonel lamented his shortcomings, thus at least acknowledging them. That was better than some. Ayn was both foolhardy and thoughtful. If she lived to see it, and her age became wisdom, she may well one day be a force to be reckoned with.

The stone face cracked. Markus smirked.

"I shall show you another way we Guides earn our keep," Markus announced, yanking the attention back to himself with a slight elevation in his voice and a rejuvenated tone.

He then reached his left hand down and onto a medium-sized, dark-brown leather pack he kept tightly strapped to his thigh. It was dim, but the sharp eyed would see Markus had various packs of relatively small sizes strapped to his thighs and hips. Not quite enough to be obtrusive, but certainly someone as mobile as Ayn wouldn't want. A lifetime ago, he wouldn't have worn them for the same reason as she.

It wasn't but a second, but out from the pack he pulled an entire kite shield. This was clearly a variation of a [Bag of Holding], an item most commonly-associated with the Dungeon Guilds. Legendary versions of the item were things said amongst children with their fairy tales of knights slaying dragons, but they did exist. Unfortunately, the enchantment was not permanent. It required upkeep and expertise to maintain, which the Dungeon Guild had capitalized on. True though it was that some existed in the wild with the enchantment as permanent, those used by Guides such as Markus had to be turned in and refreshed every so often. It kept the market from being saturated with them and their value high.

Whether or not that was intentional was unclear.

The shield was thick, fairly heavy, but not entirely unwieldy. It had obviously seen battle, but also seen maintenance. The leather straps on the back were also large enough to accommodate the claw Leonel wore, if he took the time to adjust them. Ultimately, though, it was nothing special. While it was quality, it was hardly adorned. It was the the type of shield given within the Order to their promoted knights. Hardly ornate, but constructed well enough to protect from nearly anything reasonable. If only the Dungeon was such.

"I'll let you borrow it until you get your own, kitty-kat. I can't have you dying on your first delve," Markus told him, rounding out in another light jab.

He didn't hand or directly offer the shield to Leonel. Instead, it sat, metal against the stone of the Dungeon floor, waiting to be taken by the fellow Paladin. Another special glint in the weapon to those truly touched by Espel: the shield did have a history. Many items used in battle or with valor by those that served Espel had a faint, but radiant glow about them. This shield most certainly did. It was something both Heleni and Leonel would notice. Unfortunately, it likely meant its former owner had died. Died valiantly, but died nonetheless.

"Now, about some of those other ideas:," Markus continued, transitioning to address what was brought up throughout the rest of the conversation, "the Dungeon Walls are in fact tough, but I would not call them indestructible. I have seen them broken, and they do oddly repair when your eye is not on them. However, I doubt anyone here possesses the strength to break them. Perhaps with a pickaxe and my strongest version of Unleash, but such would be a waste."

"Besides, even in the largest chambers of the Dungeon are poor places for maxes and slung weapons," he added.

"There is merit to the plan of setting traps and using lures. Both Heleni and Symphony seem to have good resources for that strategy," he continued, but then quickly changed tune, "however, the mossmen are ambush hunters. You normally cross their threshold long before you actually encounter them. I only warn you of this because I do not want to discourage you from using traps and plans of the like in the future; you are currently targeting a creature that simply isn't suitable for that."

He then inhaled deeply, thinking over what else to explain. Plenty of questions, but time was being burnt. They risked another group coming along after the same bounty. Still, he also didn't want to rush it.

"Something to understand is that the creatures of the Dungeon somewhat... evolve as you get lower. The vines into mossmen, the mossmen into treants, then treants into leshy or any sort of vile abomination. It is their natural life cycle. We simply interrupt it quite frequently. Mossmen are fairly intelligent and have likely acquired the gear of many delvers. Not terribly many, else we would have heard about it before. Two, maybe three groups would be my estimate. It is possible, even, but doubtful that they may possess magic, but that typically does not occur until they become treants and a treant anywhere but a treasure room is unheard of - at least this early," Markus explained, providing more insight and again letting his experience paint a picture for them to draw conclusions from. He did not lead them in such a way that he told them what to do, instead he gave them information and some direction.

"I won't waste time now explaining every little nuance to it, but mossmen are essentially all flowers of the same plant. That plant can span several rooms and will need burnt out. Killing the mossmen is the dangerous part and each one will have the knowledge of the whole," he told them, providing perhaps the most insightful information he could on the species. It The life cycle of the creature was an interesting one. Nearly infinite seeds that grew into the living vines which themselves matured into plants that amassed into the sentient mossmen which themselves gained autonomy as treants whom would eventually find a new, harsher territory to adapt to and spread more seeds. Fortunately, they required magic to grow, else they would be such a problematic species.

"As to what gear they might have, likely nothing more than a few novice delvers. Anything they have must have been scavenged or stolen from someone they killed. Any delver killed by a mere mossman isn't likely to have magical gear, or if so, not much of it. They are likely no better outfit than you," Markus told them, though that smirk of his returned.

"And, on the note of gear, I have no qualms with plate armor. The problem is that even I can cut through typical steel with just my two swords and that most armor made topside is designed to be used with a thick gambeson and draped mail. Once you accumulate some money, I will show you shops with more suitable gear. It is thinner, generally only one or two pieces, and you'll find it will still protect you from most of the threats your current armor will down here. It also designed to be easily worn under cloaks or even swap out damaged pieces," he told them. Pride seethed between his teeth at his claim he could cleave through steel. That was an impressive feat. He had restrain himself from superfluous claim, such as how he could cut through steel plates like paper. True through it was, it was an unnecessary claim at the time.

"Now, while Leonel dons his new, not-so-shiny shield, I propose you four make a decision before you proceed. I am your guide, but not your commanding officer. I will not be directing you in combat, only outside of it. I suggest you lot decide who will be your de facto leader - making judgement calls in the heat of battle. Two people trying to bark orders at the same time amount to one idiot, no matter how brilliant they may be alone. Similarly, a group with no communication or acting alone often amount to several dead idiots, no matter how talented they are on their own," he told them, pushing for perhaps the most important decision they would make now that they had commit to work together.

 

[November Witch]

Symphony

Status: Annoyed & Frustrated
Location: Amaric Temple - 4th floor
Interaction(s): Sir Les Paul ERode Haze- Carolyn

Symphony would watch Markus speak, letting him say all he wanted to before she would speak up. But she certainly had some thoughts of her own when it came to what he had said. The shield was a welcome surprise. In fact, she almost asked if he had a second one. One might come in handy for her. After all, as long as it was close to her body, her threads could act as extra limbs. Meaning taking up one of her arms wouldn’t be a big deal. Alas, it wasn’t very pressing. Perhaps she could get one later, or perhaps not at all. After all, she’d fought things just fine without one so far… right? Her fragmented memory reached so far back in time, but she couldn’t remember clearly.

Symphony was slightly surprised to hear the walls were destructible, but less so what he added context to how difficult it would be to break them. The part about them healing piqued her interest alot actually. What could cause walls to do such a thing? Could she do something similar if she could figure out the cause? Perhaps the need for Orichalcum would be negated. Looking into it would be her top priority later. But for now, she knew her focus should be on the current delve.

She would simply nod in agreement as Markus said what she had been thinking. Slinging weapons weren’t exactly made for spaces this small. Perhaps in a much wider, more open room. But not on these first few levels. Maybe the place opened up further down. But from what they had seen so far, it didn’t seem like a wise decision. Though he would go on to point out that mossmen were opportunists. Ambush hunters. That would certainly complicate their trap ideas. Though it also opened up other doors, just knowing how they would fight. It seemed it wouldn’t be as easy as moving on after fighting them either. They’d have to find the flora that produced them and burn it out. Depending on how maze-like and how big the 5th level would be, it may be time consuming.

The good news was that they would likely be on an equal playing field when it came to equipment. While one couldn’t be exactly sure what they would have, the fact that it was only on the 5th level coupled with Markus’ information did make Symphony more confident. While she mostly tuned out for the small words on armor, the last chunk of what Markus said caught her attention. They needed a leader? Another person she would need to listen to? Her shoulders slumped slightly and her eye twitched once, out of annoyance. It was also clearer on her porcelain face than before. While she wouldn’t mind leading herself, she had vague memories of it not working in the past. Apparently, people didn’t like listening to a ‘toy’ or an ‘inanimate object.’

Symphony crossed her arms and turned away from the group. She took a few steps away from them, down the stairs that led from floor four to five. Though she stopped after only a few steps. Symphony would like to lead, but who would want to listen to her? In her remembered experience, no one. She sat on the steps facing away from the group still. Her elbows on her knees, and her chin resting on her hands.

“I have no preference. Decide amongst yourselves.”

Her voice had bits of annoyance and frustration in it, seemingly writing herself off, and forming the opinions that the others would have towards her. Not only did she form these opinions that the others had of her, but she was already judging them on it and pouting. Well, as long as it wasn’t someone who would scold her like Markus did earlier, she didn’t really mind having a leader. She just didn’t want to be bossed around. It was also yet another vote she had counted herself out of.

 

[ERode]

Well, when it came down to it, none of what they said even mattered because it turned out that while the walls were somewhat destructible, they were mostly indestructible. And even if they were easily destructible, apparently Symphony didn’t really know how to sling a rock properly anyways, if she was concerned about people dodging. What, did archers snap their bows because their arrows were telegraphed and there was only a chance of hitting one target at best? Did the engineers designing catapults moan because enemies would split up?

Ayn folded her arms, looking more than a little annoyed at everyone’s can’t-do attitude…but Markus basically told them all that nothing they just said mattered. She shot the older man a weird look when he called Leonel ‘kitty-kat’ (another term that she had only heard been used in the Virgin Merrow), but didn’t end up commenting on it either. There were more pressing things anyhow: the mossmen were, in fact, intelligent, and also ambush predators. So they were at least as smart as some animals, smarter because they could use tools and weapons. Which kinda meant that maybe they would be the ones to set traps?

“Man, this stinks…”

And that whole promise of showing them around to equipment stores seemed like a long ways off too; Markus had just mentioned some time ago that it would be a while before they could do more than just break-even on their costs, after all.

Still, when it came down to it, their Guide posed a new question towards them, apparently seeing that all their tactical and strategic speculation meant absolutely nothing because they knew literally nothing about their environment or their enemies. Symphony immediately opted out of discussion, and the seaweed-haired swordswoman turned to her with a halfway smile immediately afterwards and said, “Ok, I nominate Symphony then! It should be obvious why, right?”