Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Amaric Temple

[Merciless Medic]

LOCATION—Stairway to
2nd Floor, Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—0955

Cole Forrest​

Lvl. 1 | Warlock
Status: Shocked, Contemplative
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2
Pact 1/1

TAGS EmperorsChosen Prizzy Kriyze Sir Les Paul November Witch

The emotional shift from Leander was not even noticed until he spoke. The sudden sarcasm gave Cole whiplash. He stood up, staring bewildered at Leander, having thought he was just a happy-go-lucky golden labrador.

However, upon looking around, not only did he find Cassius and Neha were gone, but looking back at the Trading Post, he saw people wearing armor. Some looked like veterans too. Leander’s sarcasm actually helped wake him up from his earlier infatuation with Lumina, which helped that she had embarrassed him with his advances, and he was going to be petty about that.

What he saw did destroy Lumina’s earlier points, and he found himself questioning her advice more and more. He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Daaamn, didn’t know you even had it in ya.” His tone was more congratulatory even if reserved, as if praising Leander for speaking out in such a way. It was clear that he respected Leander more for that, even if the sarcasm nearly sounded childish.

“Well, now that I think about it… I’m seeing some veterans wear armor.” He glared and set his hands at his hips as he stared at Lumina with a disapproving glare. “If you’re gonna make a sweeping statement, maybe don’t include your own personal preferences or experiences with the experiences of the many, travel guide. That’s how you kill someone with information that doesn’t fit everyone. If a big muscular guy doesn’t have good enough speed and agility, he’ll need plate armor and it will save him more than armor made for someone who’s agile or no armor whatsoever. Do you even know anything about armor? Hell, I’ve heard experiences differ on these floors, so we can’t rely on one person’s account.” He huffed, crossing his arms and standing a bit closer to Leander.

“But uhh…” He then looked at Leander. “Maybe the two dipped? Like, Lumina’s here, so why would Neha stay? I can’t comment on that monk guy though, maybe he wants to stay in the Trading Post and become a merchant instead of going with us.” The thought did sound a little funny, but he had to keep his smile hidden.

 

[November Witch]

Lumina Wynntress

~{A Scholar's Mindset}~​

Status: Excited
Location: Amaric Temple - 1st Floor - Trading Post
Mention(s): Sir Les Paul Merciless Medic Meredith EmperorsChosen Prizzy Kriyze

Lumina stood there, arms crossed, waiting for questions. And come they did. She was thankful the group wasn’t so eager as to not have questions. It was a sign that they were using their heads. A question about what was to come. While every level had things that were likely to appear, there were always surprises, outliers, and odd phenomena that occurred no matter how deep or shallow. The question was a good one, and while her answer may not be satisfactory, it was part of how she felt it was beneficial to approach the dungeon.

“One thing you all will need to understand is that the dungeon is, first and foremost, unpredictable. While certain depths and areas can be more likely to house certain threats, you will encounter plenty you never expected to. For this first delve, I will hold back details about the specific threats you’re likely to face. I want to see how you all approach the unknown. It’s how you should approach the dungeon as a whole.”

She would explain, as Cole reached out to the icy flowers on the ground. The flame under them, relying on nothing but the spell with nothing to catch, would go out in only a few moments, leaving just the icy bouquet which was definitely cold. Cold and dry enough to stick to his hand for a moment as it froze the moisture on his fingers and stuck to him. But after about a second, the heat from his skin melted that ice, and it was no longer stuck to him. Lumina’s gaze turned to the next person to speak up. Leander. She smiled at his remark.

“I didn’t expect you’d be the one to notice. You seemed the most eager to get going just moments ago.”

Another test passed. Even when eager, and excited to explore the unknown, they still asked questions and kept an eye on their surroundings. Cole spoke up once more, and Lumina simply smiled brighter than before. In fact, her icy eyes shone, like sunlight reflecting through a bright blue glacier. Cole’s sudden change up was unexpected, but his words made her scholarly side proud.

“That’s it! While somewhat flawed, this is how you should approach most advice given to you. Don’t always take everything as 100% truth, even if the one telling you has more experience or knowledge in a specific area. This is not to say don’t listen to them but really be critical and think about what you are told. Too often are things exaggerated or tainted too much by bias or opinion. It’s a fine line to walk, between too much trust in others, and too much confidence in your own thoughts. So, if your party member says something you aren’t sure of, or even me, please discuss further with them. Don’t be afraid to question me, as I’m happy to explain myself if need be. Everything can be a learning experience.”

While some of his logic seemed obvious enough to not need stating, or flawed in some way, he was still questioning her, and not just sitting there, absorbing everything she said. While it could be good, it was better to be critical and ask questions in order to avoid bad advice. It was how she’d gotten so far in her studies. Questioning what she was told and thinking critically. Outside the box, so to say. So seeing others exhibit this rare trait was always a treat. She was also surprised Cole was the one questioning her. If anything, he seemed like he’d be the one to listen and absorb everything she said. While drooling and staring, of course. It seemed today was full of surprises.

“Normally, I would suggest we wait here for them, but it would be a good chance to familiarize yourselves with the training post. So, let’s go look for them, shall we?”

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (5th Floor)
DATE— Early Summer
TIME— 1124

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

Level 2 | Guardian-Paladin
Status: Tired, pensive
Spell Slots
Lv. 1 0/3

TAGS ERode Sir Les Paul November Witch Carolyn

The day was won, though there was no fanfare flourishing in the air. Not a peal from a single trumpet. There was only bitterness, and a taste of damp dirt from the lingering spores in his tongue. The victory, to him, felt hollow.

Even the warm feeling of that black dagger etched over his face growing didn’t feel quite earned.

He was sat closest next to Symphony after the fact, further away from the group huddled around the campfire. Ensconced, with his back against a wall, one knee held up to his chest, a hand holding a whetstone crossing over it as he absentmindedly ran his claw against it. Hadn’t looked up once, simply busied himself watching the razor-edge at the tip of his fingers latched and grinded along the grit of the whetstone, unhitching sharply and slanting at an angle once it reached the end. Then repeated, stolidly, without a hurry. It was like watching a noblewoman obsessively file her nails; even if it wasn’t an uncommon thing to see a Lion Knight do maintenance on their claws.

It was a robotic habit of his, something to get his mind off things.

The ‘treasure’ and cores he’d looted— whatever hadn’t been charred useless from the white flames— was sitting there in a pile by his side, and even if he looked like he was purposefully keeping himself out of the conversation, he was hanging on every word from Markus. Hadn’t spoken a word in rebuttal simply because there was no rebuttal at all. Their performance was all over the place.

Leonel just kept quiet, sharpened his claw, musing over if he would’ve stuck out his neck and really been the shield he’d big talked himself out to be for them if things had gone south back there.

If Markus hadn’t been there to erect a barrier, and if Heleni didn't have the ability to blind the immature treants— what could Leonel have done to protect the party?

“…” — He was only drawing blank after blank, beating himself over it.

The grinding of his claw against the whetstone only stopped once Markus addressed him. Again, there was no rebuttal from him, only a sharp pause before he spat out the same words he’d yell at the top of his lungs at his instructor when he was a child, tripping over his own feet in training — “I will be sharper next time.” — The only thing a blade could promise. He didn’t have the nerve to explain or rationalize what he'd done or why, knowing it’d been more selfish than righteous.

Something to atone, punitive, a thousand self-inflicted lashes and flayings— to find some twisted theodicy in the pain he felt. At the heat of the moment, it wasn’t — ‘This is the only thing I can do for her.’— No, it was more akin to — ‘I should be the one to suffer, not her.’

All vainglory, thinking punishment alone would be enough to set his wrongs right.

“Sharper…”— He sighed, muttering the words back at himself almost mockingly, setting the whetstone down and throwing his head back into the pale-blue walls. Leonel was beginning to understand it. A sad old drunk playing martyr couldn’t reach his brother dearest, wouldn’t fulfill his oaths. He had to move on, be something else. Something stronger.

Something he couldn’t really envision just yet.

All he knew is that he wasn’t defeated, no matter how bitter the win felt. That alone was enough to keep him from feeling fully dejected — “I’ve no use for my portion of the bounty, my current gear is still holding up, so far. Don’t have anything essential to grab in mind besides a shield…Unless you have any suggestions.” — He started, finally looking back at the group once the topic of what to do with their loot was brought up. Leonel glanced to his side, gestured a chin over at their orichalcum doll — ”I could fork over part of my earnings so that Symphony gets herself a serviceable weapon for the next delve. Something decent, something that won’t break on its first swing.”

“Call it a ’team investment.’”

 

[ERode]

​

Ayn coughed into Leonel’s face when he crouched beside her, doing some entirely unnecessary magical-religion shit. It had been an attempt to tell him to leave her alone and finish the job first, but, alas, pollen prevented that.

She settled for glaring at him (at least she thought it was him) through tear-blinded eyes instead. What, did he think she didn’t know? That this backlash was entirely a surprise for her? That this was the first time she’s ever used this? If she could roll her eyes, she would. Ayn settled for rolling around instead, trying to gradually feel out if any of her tendons had snapped in the process.

…kinda hard to tell that as well, when she couldn’t feel anything in her body!

---

By the time the group had limped their way into a resting spot, Ayn had regained sensation in her own body. The healing potion worked well enough to take the edge off her pain, and through her own personal diagnosis, she figured that nothing had broken or torn in a way that she hadn’t dealt with before. The Gingerscale was also surprisingly tasty! She ran her tongue over her teeth, then sucked through the gaps, before finally spitting the bloody globule off to the side. If she stayed still enough and engaged in some deep breathing, she could practically meditate away the pain!

But instead, Ayn swung her legs out to the side, took a deep breath, and then went through her usual stretches, contorting her body and occasionally letting out squeals or winces. In the end, no matter its cause, overworked muscles were overworked muscles: rest and recovery didn’t just come from lying as still as a corpse. And physical ailments perhaps kept her mind just distracted enough that she didn’t get too mad over what Markus was insinuating too.

“Yeah?” Ayn said, her voice still a bit ragged from all the pollen-infused phlegm she had hacked up over the course of the last few minutes. “That’s what I used it for? Didn’t you literally say that Symphony would’ve been torn up by those things? So that means basically everyone else would’ve been as well. And they moved super-fast too. Faster than Leo, for sure. Heck, you didn’t do a thing for all the stuff that happened before those treants and I totally remember that guy…uh, Whitefang something? That didn’t like you because you didn’t teach. So obviously if you did act, it meant that things were going wrong in a way that was actually bad.”

Ok, maybe she was getting a bit mad after all! Deep breaths, Ayn, deep breaths.

“That’s a lotta words, but basically what I’m saying is that…you said any tricks, so I used my biggest trick, because I didn’t know how strong they were! Like, I definitely didn’t know they were actually that weak!”

She’d have folded her arms in that moment and huffed dramatically about it, but Ayn had the feeling that her arms might get stuck in that position if she did. She settled for rolling her head from side to side instead, thankful that her neck muscles were fundamentally still in good enough shape. It was nice to get things off her chest anyhow; she was entirely confident she won that argument. And hey, at least Markus didn’t spend nearly as much time making an obvious point as he did dressing down Symphony.

When the topic of spending money came up, of course, Ayn had plenty to say as well.

First and foremost…

“How about a better pair of boots for you, Leo? So you don’t get pulled like, twenty meters away from us without even being able to give a shout next time.” After all, if it could happen once, it could happen again, and it definitely wasn’t the fault of the shield in that case. “And if you’re gonna get into the habit of throwing away your weapons, I’m sure a javelin or a handaxe would be way better.”

She swivelled over to Symphony afterwards, this time flashing a grin. Strong but kinda clueless? That brought to mind a very particular archetype, didn’t it? “And as for your weapon…well, something heavy, blunt, and small would work out for you, right? You get something to bonk people with, and we have something to tie to your strings for when we want to do the long-range bonking too!”

Oh, but there was that other thing too. What was it again…the egg comes before the chicken?

“Well, no need to settle on anything like that first. Didn’t you say that prices change all the time at the Trading Post, Markus? Can’t decide on those things before we know exactly what we’re on about, right?

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

Like puppets without a string, the mossmen collapsed when the core’s full attention turned elsewhere. Heleni unsheathed her sword and sat near an unburned archer. As Markus went on with his instructions, she nodded along and pulled out her dagger to skin the creature. There was time to catch her breath and recoup financially. She went around collecting anything valuable from the corpses. Even a crusader had to eat at the end of the day.

The lecture later at the small fire wasn’t too bad. It was more direction than bluster. She was well acquainted with the latter in her orphanage. What Markus said had truth to it. The opening move from her to expend her Unleash was done on impulse as was some of her targeting.

“Better wit, eh?” she said, a faint smile by her lips. It was better than the grin she wore during the battle. It reflected the image of a nun had she been garbed in adventuring gear that was grimy after a fierce battle. “I’ll try to think more.”

Then a thought did cross her mind. The part where her faith had manifested. And the part where the guide moulded it. “Say, Markus, have you ever communicated directly with Espel before? Like, you know, talked to them. Not exactly part of the usual experience for us.”

Heleni tuned out the haggle for boots and other lesser topics.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (5th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1126

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

Short Rest!​

Leonel, Heleni, Ayn, and Symphony all regain one Lvl. 1 Spell Slot.

Ayn is still considered Moderately Injured.

No one is tired or hungry. Especially not Symphony.

That could have went worse. He had some pupils explode upon critique, some break down, some even cry. This group, if anything, was just despondent with a touch of petulance. Hell, none of them even took a swing at him. Most of them were alive, if you counted whatever animated Symphony.

There might be hope for them after all.

Still, there was more work in front of him to keep them on the right path. He had to earn the Guide part of his title and do exactly that: guide them.

Given she was perhaps the most energetic of all those to respond, Ayn was the first he felt inclined to provide some form of rebuttal for. He was neither harsh nor overly stern, more matter-of-fact, bordering on slightly condescending. "I did not mock or ridicule your choice to use your ability, did I?" he said, plainly. It was true, she spoke as if he had said she should not have used such a technique, but such words never left his mouth. "I told you that I forbade its use," he added, making his exact meaning clear, more so really reiterating what he felt important.

"You seem to have an issue with keeping words straight. Kaelic never claimed I did not teach at all. It is the priority of my lessons he does not agree with," Markus explained, "there is something he—alongside many members of the church—believes I should teach you early as a fundamental part of training. I believe it is done in vainglory and you should prioritize learning to survive in the Dungeon first."

"And, as for my intervention, well... if Espel can provide you lot a miracle, it would be a great insult for me to abstain. You know it not, but Leonel and Heleni do: Espel graced us this morn and in his light you were gifted white fire," Markus told her, his speech returning to the somewhat flowery vernacular of the church, but it was a truth that at least half his companions could not deny.

"Which, leads me to answer a question..." Markus continued, shifting his attention over to Heleni while the topic was still somewhat fresh.

"Yes. I have spoken to our Lord Espel. As has Leonel. When a Paladin gives their Oath, Espel will personally confirm if it is accepted. As a Crusader, your relationship with Espel is much more indirect. If you choose not to take an oath, your abilities will fairly different. You may never gain the right to smite in the name of Espel, but you will likely gain more diverse Spells as gifts. Some Crusaders can even learn abilities from priests. Paladins are always gifted their abilities. In any case, I have spoken to Espel on a handful of other ocassions... even now, when you received your miracle, I prayed for Leonel to be healed. Our Lord obliged. Leonel can confirm," Markus told her, being somewhat excited and more positive about sharing the details of their holy order. It was an interesting dynamic. Priests could learn various blessings and rites, almost like a mage, but all based on the skill and dedication of the priest. Paladins could not do so, but in turn often had greater, unique blessings of their own. Crusaders were a type of middle ground. Often blessed, but without an Oath that directly tied them to Espel. They could learn abilities like a Priest, but not use the greatest of them like a Paladin. It meant that Crusaders were not strictly inferior Paladins. They had a place, a purpose, and value.

Markus finally shifted over to Leonel. Those pale blue eyes of his just trying to make sense of his fellow Paladin. He couldn't help but have some type of sympathy for how pathetic Leonel looked at times.

"You should not be so quick to throw away your coin. First, you owe me for the shield. I'll take installments. Secondly, Ayn brought up many a good point, but she only scratched the surface. I may carry the potions and equipment, but all of you will be expected to chip in for them. Beyond that, you haven't even considered special items. Aside from polish for that armor of yours, you could purchase magic scrolls for single-use spells if you truly have so much excess. If all else fails, you could place your Daric into bonds at the Guild to accrue interest. That, or pay a heft tithe to the church, but our dues are high enough as is..." Markus suggested, throwing out plenty of points and ideas for Leonel to consider. It was frustrating, admittedly, to see Leonel be so defeated, but such was unfortunately understandable.

Symphony said little and Markus had little to say back to her. "Whatever weapon you choose, I would also suggest a small knife. Something the size of your hand. Not necessarily for combat, but a blade is always worth having on you. You never know when you need to cut something," he told her, possibly providing the most bland and basic advice he feasibly could.

"But, yes, you will be at the whim of the Trading Post. A suggestion, though, would be to avoid buying armor or weapons at the Trading Post. There is a certain premium you will pay for the convenience of the service in the Dungeon. A rule of thumb is that raw resources and necessities are often cheaper, but goods, services, and niceties tend to be more expensive," Markus informed them, again just providing generally useful information. Such would be expected from a veteran of the Dungeon. It was literally his job.

"If none of you are keen on playing the market in the Trading Post, your best bet is to just cash out the goods the caravan merchants will accept. They'll draw a up a contract based on the current value, then you'll have to take that contract to the Guild Headquarters to exchange it for Daric. What most new groups do is split the Daric instead of the goods to avoid the annoying arithmetic, but it does mean we'll have to pick a time to meet at the Guild. They won't cash a contract without all the names signed," Markus told them, providing them a simpler alternative to the process of cashing out their goods. He suggested they discuss how to divvy it up, it seemed they elected not to listen to him. Now it seemed like he had to hold their hand.

"It should go without saying, but always make sure your name is on the contract," he added, making sure they clearly heard this as he elevated his voice to emphasize the importance. He had seen too many cons in his day.

 

[November Witch]

Symphony

~{Indefinite Excursions}~​

Status: Inquisitive & Anxious
Location: Amaric Temple - 5th floor
Interaction(s): Sir Les Paul ERode Haze- Carolyn

Symphony was too in her own world to even comprehend the things being said behind her now. That fleeting feeling of the past, something she held desperately onto for as long as possible. But like petrichor, it was bound to fade with the slightest of breezes. While it seemed like a long time to the doll, it was likely only 20 or 30 seconds until she tuned back into the conversation. Something about Markus taking installments for a shield. Likely the one he lended to Leonel. Like earlier, Symphony enjoyed the thought of a shield. It would make her worry less about her condition and if she can handle taking a hit. But at the same time, she would have to lug around a large shield. It wouldn’t hurt to try though, right? She could always sell it if she didn’t like it. Or maybe she could get one for free from some poor soul who didn’t have a use for it anymore.

Turning back to the group when Markus addressed her, she gave a nod, her face as neutral and emotionless as usual. “Then I shall buy a knife, and something else.” She said quite matter-of-factly. She looked down at her right hand, with those words still echoing in the back of her mind. A gash upon its surface only served to remind her why she was here. To fix things like that upon her body. To restore it, her mind, and her memories. Nothing else mattered.

Of course it did. Lots of things mattered. But Symphony just couldn’t figure out what. She couldn’t remember.

She dropped her arm, looked at the battered, but mostly healed party at this point, taking in the sight, then looked to Markus. “I assume we’re heading back up after you all finish resting?” She would pause for enough time for a response, but add onto it, possibly cutting someone off. “Can I come down with another group then? I would like the opportunity to make more daric.”

Symphony, being a construct, had no use for rest or downtime. Well, she did. She just didn’t remember. Physically though, she didn’t need anything like that. The faster she could make daric, the faster she could buy Orichalcum, the faster she could find someone to repair her. Besides, what would she even do during the day or overnight? Walk around town maybe. But when she got bored of that? She’d probably just sit upon the top of the temple again, waiting for morning and dungeoneers to come once again. There was no other task on her mind besides finding or buying Orichalcum.

She did wonder what her cut of the Daric would be, and how much the weapons would cost she would need, but that was only a secondary worry. Right now, she just wanted an answer from Markus.

 

[EmperorsChosen]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—0931

Cecelia Blake​

Level 1 | Arcane Assassin
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 3/3

TAGS Meredith Sir Les Paul Merciless Medic Prizzy Kriyze November Witch

Cecelia's head turned softly, to Cole, then Leander, then back. She was silent and her expression neutral as her eyes moved to Lumina.

The first thing she took note of was Leander's puppy-like demeanor had vanished. He wasn't standoffish. Perhaps a bit prickly, however he wasn't the cheeky bubbliness he was before, seemingly taking issued with some of Lumina's remarks. Cole surprisingly followed suit with criticism, and even more surprising was Lumina's response.

Cecelia was a follower. She had spent most of her life abiding to the motivations of others; a good little soldier who followed orders. She was additionally quite pragmatic. So, Lumina's responses didn't sit right with her.

Cole had posed an excellent question, asking for intelligence on what they should expect. Lumina's response was that she would withhold information to see how they would respond and should generally treat expeditions into the labyrinth as unpredictable. Cecelia didn't find that to be a suitable reason to refrain from information. Whenever she took a mission, she spent immense amount of time gather information and studying the best way to approach the task at hand. The fact that they would often have to venture in more or less blind was not an excuse to be averse to information when it was actually available.

The second statement was just as perplexing. They were to question everything that they were told. Thinking critically was one thing. Of course one should do that, however likewise, one didn't know what they didn't know. Guide's existed as they had more experience and knowledge regarding expeditions into the labyrinth. They had a greater foundation for knowledge, and to think critically required not only logic, but knowledge as well. A guide or veteran would not be correct in every circumstance, but certainly their information should be, for the most part, refined and curated. If they were to question and argue everything, then what even was the point of a Guide? What could they trust? Nothing, apparently. A discussion was fine and dandy here. What of when things go awry? There is nary time to have a debate when in a fight or decisions must be made within a split second.

However, unlike the other two, Cecelia didn't voice her thoughts. Her expression didn't give them away either. It was the same as usual, her cold eyes glancing back to Leander and Cole, as if waiting to see if they would take their guide up on their advice and continue to question her thoughts before she took steps forward.

"...She was so easy to find before..." Cecelia murmured, skipping past the previous topics. It was a wonder how someone with such a striking appearance like Neha could vanish. There was Cassius, as well, but he at least could blend into a crowd better.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (1st Floor)
DATE—Early Summer, 07/02
TIME—0957

Leander 🗲 Cromwell​

Lvl. 1 | Mage-Storm Sorcerer
Status Excited
Spell Slots
Lvl.1 3/3
Metamagic
1/1

TAGS Meredith Prizzy Kriyze Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen November Witch

What Lumina would soon learn was that Leander listened. Perhaps, a little too well. What his body lacked in agility, his mind was more than nimble enough for. Much like his magic, his thoughts flowed through that brain of his like electricity. Jumping from point to point almost instantly, filling the gaps between his synapses but more so creating ideas where once there was none. Lumina was a mystery at one point, but the more Leander learned, the more he filled out his mental image of her. It was growing rapidly and hardly flattering.

He could see it all from beginning to end. The entire interaction like a frozen bolt in his mind and every spark that flowed through it merely another verbal exchange between party members.

Lumina walked them through the Trading Post, inquiring if anyone had questions.

Leander asked why wear her garb; to him, it made little sense for the environment.​

A valid question. He, a mage as well, might have had something to learn.

Lumina provided pathetic answers, claiming herself a scholar. That she did not wish to be a Dungeoneer.​

That answer was illogical. The reasoning poor.

Lumina was in fact a Dungeoneer and dressing like a scholar in a Dungeon was a poor decision.​

When pressed, she wrote it off as some lesson of trust and critical thinking.

That answer was illogical. It still gave Lumina a distinctive disadvantage in the Dungeon.​

Leander had been dissecting her rationale from all sides, looking at all outcomes. Lest she had a spell that magically enhanced her armor or prevented damage–which was possible–then she put herself a pure disadvantage. If her endurance was so low that leathers or mail were too much for her, then even as a scholar, that would be something to improve upon. If she was withholding her magical capabilities, then she was diverting actual, viable answer in favor of the illogical one she provided. It was worse than that, really.

She dissolved the trust that existed within a student-mentor relationship. If her first lesson, effectively, was trust nothing you say or hear, then what was there to learn? There needed to be some line. Of course, blind trust would always be problematic, but if they couldn't get a straight answer from someone more experienced regarding something as simple as armor, then what exactly could they expect from her? Nothing of value, not now.

Dungeoneering could be pretty lucrative. Surely, she was doing this solely for the income. If she could make more at the Ballard Houses, Leander was pretty sure she would.

This assurance struck him quick—and hard. Lumina, Cole, and Cecelia wouldn't even get to finish their responses before Leander had a red-tinted glare at Lumina, now scrutinizing her every word and move. With the young sorcerer, it was not that looks could kill, but they most definitely sling some silent insults.

"I'm sure she's just hiding with the Mage armor," Leander replied, specifically to Cecelia given her commentary. Unlike Cecelia, Leander didn't question how either of the two could so easily disappear into a crowd. Neha was small in frame with a dark color palette. Cassius could likely translate some of his martial skills into sleight of hand or deception, all depending on his preferences. No one within their group was particularly skilled at tracking, either, so it wasn't as if the two had bypassed some wardens.

Leander was just as quick to change his tune, both mood and objectives, as he was to deduce such a harsh opinion of Lumina.

He had no problems darting off in front of the group back to the Trading Post at a far quicker pace, only to stop once he neared the threshold of the barricades that made up the entrance.

"Coooh-oole, Ce-seel-yaaah, hurry up. I want to see what the craftsmen seeell," he shouted, completely ignoring the party beside him that side-eyed him once he raised his tone.

He didn't wait.

Leander was off in the Trading Post, at the Northeast section where most of the skilled crafters and artisans either peddled their wares or had a shopkeep of sorts do so. At the exact moment, Leander was looking over a stall that had various staves, wands, and scepters on display. He preferred his spear, of course, but there was value in having an actual magical weapon. Wands, for example, often helped with high levels of control for Wizards with a whole slew of specialized components for them. A skilled Wizard with a wand could make a firebolt whiz through the air like a guided firework. Staves were better with channeling large sums of magic for big Spells. Leander had to practice Lightning Bolt with a staff thousands of times to get where he was now. Even still, many Spells could only be cast at their lowest level with a Staff as a conduit.

Scepters where what he truly had his eye on. While scepters were definitely a middle ground in terms of size, they performed a whole separate purpose. Scepters were common to help with a specific type of magic. An element, or a school, so on and so forth. Scepters were common for both Sorcerers like himself and Warlocks like Cole. A Lightning Scepter would undoubtedly provide benefits to Leander, but scepters were not exclusive to the use of World Magic. Warlocks that lacked control over their Spells might find some amount of control or restraint with the use of an appropriate scepter. Leander of course was not considering Cole, but instead looking at the limited selection of scepters in front of him. The Myriad Arcana would have more, and unfortunately, there was not a lighting-based scepter in front of him. Which made sense, his school of magic was one of the less common ones.

"It's like a carnival... come in with your loot from the games and turn it in for goodies..." Leander mused.

 

[Megilagor]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (Exterior/Trading Post)
DATE—Early Summer 07/04
TIME— 9:57/10:22

Ake Sigurd​

LvL 1 | Totemic Warrior

Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2

TAGS @Daddy Dream , @Shotgunpenguin , The Regal Rper

"Ughh. Listen I am not your game. Besides you're not my type, I prefer people who know when to shut up, can handle the cold of the north, and are optionally female. You don't fulfill even one of those three requirements." Ake responded coldly, so cold even the blizzards back home in the north were warmer than his tone of voice right now.
"I might not last five minutes against him in a fight? That might be true, as I haven't been a fighter for long, I don't have as much experience as him, that might be true. But at least I have the balls and guts to try, and not have to resort to petty attempts at orchestrating a fight. Besides, if I was gonna die in a fight against him it would be an honor. As the only honorable deaths in my area are out of old age, during a fight, or during childbirth." Ake voiced his opinion, he knew he wasn't the greatest fighter, after all most of his life he was just a lumberjack at his village, only in the past few years had he trained as a fighter, and most of his opponents were wild animals, and sometimes gramps when he felt well enough. Ake knew when he wasn't gonna match his opponent's strength but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to fight. To abandon a fight is to dishonor his ancestors. but this wasn't a place or time for a fight, they were just about to go into the dungeon, and he still was a bit green in terms of fighting other people. However, Ake did see that even the man the bugbear says Ake wouldn't be able to win against has a strained relationship with the bugbear.

When Lucas came out with a strong man beside him, Ake looked at the two of them, then at Griffith. Finally slamming his closed in fist hand against his own chest where his heart is. A small gesture from his homeland of respect to another, used to respect ones by their strength much rather then their personality. Ake could sense that Griffith was strong even without Lucas'es introduction, his ancestor's blood was literally boiling at the sight of the man, ready to fight him just for the thrill of it.
"So in simple words. Don't get too cocky, and don't overly rely on our seals. I can get behind that. Cockiness leads to recklessness, and over-reliance leads to bad foundations. Bad foundations lead to death most of the time." Ake said as he released his hand from its area of respect before adding. "I can work with that. If someone as strong as you says it then it must be true."

 

[The Regal Rper]

Malikron | Amaric Temple,

Overhearing the conversation between Dr. Cal and Lucas did give plenty of insight into the relationship between his guide and the man marked for a gruesome death, perhaps Lucas would be the key to ensuring a future engagement with the man that needed to die.

It was observing the help around him though that made Malikron take a step back, a real one from his early intense emotions, and really analyze his situation, especially as Griffith entered the room and his presence became immediately known. To which Malik only offered the man a respectful, ingrained bow on reflex both to dismiss his shift to alertness when he had first senses the man stepping in.

In a way it was a humble reminder that despite his Patron given gifts, he was far from a powerful Spellsword himself. Had things been different perhaps he could have learned to attain the same level of power as this man, but as it was now, he has to figure out the reason his Lord, wanted this man dead. He had helped his father in alchemy work as a youth before being taken away…perhaps he could use the limited knowledge of that to inject himself into the conversation more eloquently.

It was specifically thinking over Dr. Cal’s comment on Lucas business management that garnered the delayed little laugh that came from the Elf’s throat and was accompanied with a warm if not nostalgic smile. The comment reminded him really of his dad, something he had said once years ago about how important it was to take care of one's materials and ingredients as an alchemist with delicate attention.

“My father certainly would have agreed with your statement, sir. He dealt in alchemist work also you see. Always talked about these things when I helped him in youth.” Malikron politely explained, speaking up for the first time, and erasing all the aggression or even cautionary alertness that had been smoldering within him this entire exchange and new introductory.

Mentions: Sir Les Paul @Shotgunpenguin Megilagor @Daddy Dream

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