Fantasy ┌ spellsword ┘ Amaric Temple

[The Regal Rper]

Malikron | Amaric Temple, 4th Floor

He had noticed the movement of the Bug Bear too. Like a Prey vs Predator instinct of alertness- eyes wandered and a certain sensation was felt in the air, aost a second before Lucas himself had spotted it.

In all honesty, Malikron had tensed. What stopped him from moving was Cal and his intervention. Not only that but Griffith's final move to completely stop any chances of a fight. What remained from there was really just listening and taking heed of the words Griffith stated. It was quite the lesson to have but it was better had early than never or too late.

It also made it immediately clear to him what would have happened to him had he allowed the rage inside to blind him to logical approach. It was good he had enough self control to resist it, and made him mindful of being careful in the future.

For Doctor Alessandro’s clear distaste at his commentary, it was pretty clear at least for Malik to see the Doctor was displeased. He had been around enough of the types to read between the lines clearly to add nothing more. With Lucas's signal for them to go, Malikron merely politely nodded. The tension in his shoulders, that he had only noticed from his initial bloodlust had returned slightly, and in all honesty leaving this room would get him away from the target marked by his patron.

The tension however was still heavy enough to cut through what with the noticeable looks shared between Ake and Roika. For all it was worth, which he was appreciative of, Lucas's apology for the Doctor was accepted gratefully with an appreciative small smile in understanding.

With the decision for them to move on, Malikron had to admit, the novelty of this level and the final moment of their interaction on it, had him eager to leave this floor behind for the next.

---

4th floor

The labyrinthine nature of these floors to say anything, was somewhat exhausting. Ake's commentary on his distaste for them was admittedly responded with a somewhat tired smile.

Though he had chosen to go without using his Wild Shapes due to how unnecessary it felt, the other spells he had available sufficed enough to be of use. Perhaps he could look into a bit of sparring practice, it certainly felt like he could do with a bit more work there at least.

It was coming across the first group they would bother to actually acknowledge and the clear rapport Lucas shared with the other guide that had Malikron paying them any real attention. The exchange between the two did show clear experience with the other and the subject of the other party's escapades had Malikron observing things rather closely. The tallest girl of the group in particular who stood with their weight a bit more on the other leg.

Made sense with her stance, she was favoring a side from what Markus said.

The Elf turned his attention to the eye patch wearer, a Paladin from the armor. The notion on the sparring was almost immediately put away since he doubted he would fare any better. There was no point using his forms against other Delvers unless he was in a life or death situation.

There was also just a way he felt in his transformations that fueled a lot of anger, bloodlust, and desire for violence that while he had the ability to keep in control, he wasn't quite certain he wanted to express to his other party members. Still though…this was a rare opportunity, a simple sparring match wouldn't be so bad.

Truthfully he didn't perceive himself that highly in combat to trump someone like the taller girl, from her stance alone. He could read vaguely at least, she was capable. And obviously so given the earlier conversation he knew just looking at most of these folks they would probably beat him in a match of blades or pure physical might if his arrows didn't reach them first.

“Malikron”, the last unnamed replied following Roika’s remarks, as his own introduction. To which he had also glanced at the Doll curiously.

“I shall pass also, I'm afraid. Be more akin to sparring with an animal if it were me anyway.” His tone tilting more humorous, in the remark. Besides, like Ake said, any duel would have to wait till they were outside anyway.

Though he did pause and then turn to Ake as something he said registered. “Wait, did you say bears?” Slightly surprised. And here he thought maybe a bear form would be a challenge for a Goliath. Maybe not the same level of threat it would be to a human but still.

The more you knew, as he hummed in thought. Then again compared to the others he was just at Ake’s shoulder, not even past it entirely. So really, he was not that surprised. Especially given his Fae given gifts.

Mentions: Sir Les Paul Shotgunpenguin Megilagor @Daddy Dream

Interactions: ERode Haze- November Witch Carolyn

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

A swing and a miss. Heleni shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows further. Three strands of her blonde hair hung in disorder over her tired features. She failed to find the will to correct them. Instead, she leaned closer to the fire. The orange glow cast a warmer facade. The crackle of the fire was her answer to his response.

Time passed.

Heleni had been awfully silent. Shortest of them, even Ayn had a couple of inches on her, she blended between their differing strides. But there was a different click in her when she noticed the new company. She felt them—Twice-Blessed—before she saw them.

“I don’t see it, Ayn,” Heleni pipped up playfully. Her fingers pointed up to her own ears. “Symphony doesn’t have sharp ones.”

“Say,” she twirled around to the black-haired doll, “you have sisters? Are they built like you?”

Before she forgot her manners entirely, she said to the other group, Rioka most of all, “No offense meant. I’m Heleni by the way.”

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (5th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1131

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

Good news, it seemed, his party could at least converse with others without starting a fight in the first thirty seconds. That was a feat in and of itself. Markus had been tasked with overseeing idiots that couldn't keep themselves from a brawl for more than a minute without handholding. Imagine the embarrassment of a group of adults stirring up fistfights in peaceful establishments. Still, it wasn't wise to either encourage the habit of conversing while traversing, and the best course of action was to nip it in the bud. Etiquette, unless it was a team-up of parties or a dire emergency, was to offer a quick greeting, then be about your business. Time was fleeting in the Dungeon, after all.

"Ayn, stop courting the Goliath and c'mon..." Markus said, teasingly somewhat, mostly trying to keep up a more jovial appearance in front of a colleague like Lucas. More so, he was being somewhat gentle in urging his entire party to continue. He might have said her name, but he really meant 'all of you fuckers, c'mon'--of course, in the politest way possible.

He allowed a moment of pause for their short farewells before the group continued.

"That will be the way it is most of the time in the Dungeon," Markus told them, "you greet an acquaintance, then go about your way. Even if two parties are going in the same direction, it is common practice here to split up. From what I've been told by the Free Companies, other Dungeons welcome teaming up, but the Temple here is different," Markus explained, proving yet again to be a wellspring of information.

"The simple explanation is that over your career, you'll likely learn about half of the other delvers. If you stop to talk to each one, you'll burn far too much time. It adds up quick when you remember that every time you descend into the Dungeon, you have to go through the same floors. Even if you're exploring below the thirtieth, you still have to go through those top thirty and potentially fight three bosses. Each and every time... it's why the veteran parties don't even bother with Rooms of Surprise; they just become a waste of time. Hell, it still took us a whole day to get to the thirtieth floor and we were a top level party," Markus told them, continuing his educational rant. Monotonous as ever, but insightful. The thought might not have occurred to the group, but it was true: every time they went into the Dungeon, they would be going through the same old floors just to reach new ones.

"Plus, Party-Hoppers are a problem. The last thing you want it drama," Markus injected, "and, I don't mean people swap parties."

Markus didn't want to step into the conversation regarding Symphony too much. Mostly because it was better to let the party develop some dialogue between themselves. As long as it didn't spark a fight, it might foster a type of kinship between them that would be useful. Markus did, at least, have a single question:

"How exactly is it that a bunch of Constructs know their gender?"​

---

1208​

While slightly slow than their descent due to Ayn, the group still made it back to the Trading Post in roughly a half hour. There, Markus showed them the simple process for cashing out their goods in a contract. Caravan Merchants had stalls prepared for them to unload, so they did, and all of what they gathered from their fight with the Mossmen was accounted for. All of it was items that the merchants were willing to purchase, too. Between the gear, minor trinkets and jewelry, and of course the looted cores, the cash out value came to be seven hundred and fifty two Daric, though it seemed Markus was intent on keeping a brass ring from the jewelry, which he deducted from his payout. Each one of them would be getting a hundred and fifty Daric from just their morning. The five mossmen cores alone were worth thirty Daric a piece. To Ayn, the only one with a proper job, this mean each mossmen core they extracted was worth about two days of work at the Merrow. A hundred and fifty Daric was about a week's pay made in just one morning.

Of course, Markus then made sure that all five of them were put on the contract. The merchant and a witness from the Guild were on the line above them. This meant the Guild would only cash it if all five of them were present.

Then came their next stop. The Dungeon Guild tent. Markus produced the trophy Symphony had made, gave his accounting of the story, a receptionist dictated it, and they all signed on the dotted line to testify for the claim. It took some evaluation afterwards, but it was only a few minutes. On the name of Markus Stonehart, no one was going to argue the claim, it was just a factor of determining the value of the bounty. They had a flat amount, but often paid higher depending on the group accomplishing it. The final value they settled on was thirty White Daric, the equivalent of three thousand Daric. Split five ways evenly, that meant each one of them received six hundred Daric, or five White Daric and a hundred regular--which was how it was paid out due to its weight.

Their pay due to the bounty had just jumped from a week of work to over a month. It wasn't a common circumstance to get a bounty, but it still meant that their one encounter--difficult and humbling though it was--earned each one of them in a morning what the average citizen might make in two months, if they didn't work seven out of seven days per week. This type of income was why people became Delvers.

With the bounty sorted, Markus finally returned the five of them to the East side of the Trading Post, exiting the Dungeon Guide tent. There were options for bedding and food if any of them wanted to take a rest or fill up. They certainly had the money to buy from any stall they wanted. There was also the free infirmary, though it was doubtful they could help Ayn given her internal injuries. Still, visiting it was a possibility.

"The plan from here is to head back to Ardynport, probably do half the journey this evening, then half in the morning. When the sundial reads two in the evening, we'll reconvene to cash the contract and discuss when to plan the next delve depending on how quickly Ayn heals," Markus informed them, knowing full-well the best course of action was to provide them a timeline and instructions rather than just ask. Experience told him that if bickering broke out over a timeline, it only made things harder to actually get done. Establishing boundaries and expectations made for a better team dynamic. "If you want food to a brief rest, now is the time. Otherwise, we should head out so we don't waste daylight," Markus told them, again, asserting a timeline. He wasn't coarse, but he was intentionally not leaving much room for input. Not that he wouldn't accept it, but why bother if he didn't have to?

 

[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 watched as Leander wandered off, stopping to call out to them and urge them hurry like a kid in a carnival. Cole was next to go, after giving a scathing review of Lumina to her face. The rogue watched monotonously before giving a sigh. Perhaps Cecelia was the guide, in actuality, having to deal with disappearing guides and party members and arguments. Perhaps this was some test or prank.

As she began to take steps forward to follow them, she wondered if one of the merchants sold magic leashes. Cecelia had nothing more to say. Like Leander had iterated in his thoughts, the rogue didn't see a point in prodding at the woman. Cecelia wanted direction, but it would be fine. She had figured out much on her own. Certainly, no one prepared her for that one job where her mark trapped his home wear bear traps and tripwires. She lived in the city. She shouldn't have had need for any trap skills, yet here she was.

As she reached the other two, Cecelia's facial expression didn't change, indicating that she perhaps hadn't heard Leander's remark. However, her words reveal that she in fact did. "Ah, so Sir Leander always says the third thing in his mind when in my presence. What wonderous insight into the minds of gentlemen," Cecelia hummed, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she glanced at the storefronts.

They were looking at wands and staves, items of little interest to Cecelia. Her magic didn't make use of it--or rather, she was sure hers did, however it was hard to garotte someone with a wand.

The rogues eyes then turned to an assortment of arms and she strolled a few feet away from them to peruse that stall. Her own armaments worked fine and were well kept, but nothing lasted forever. She wondered if these were better suited to the creatures in the dungeon given they were being sold here.

 

[ERode]

​

“You can lose when you’re sparring?”

There was a genuine expression of befuddlement in Ayn’s tone at Ake’s response, but she quickly brushed it aside as just a cultural difference. Sparring was just sparring, after all. A step more technical and focused than playfighting or drills, but not really worth investing your self-worth in. The stranger thing, of course, was everyone else around her saying that they weren’t interested in sparring. She affixed a raised brow towards the other adventurers present in a clear ‘did I ask you?’ but before there was much more to be exchanged, Markus butted in, causing Ayn to roll her eyes.

“At least I’m not calling him ‘kitty’,” she snapped back, heading forth past the other group. As she stepped beside Ake, however, the swordswoman’s eyes caught something. She stopped immediately, her eyes alight with mischief as she caught Leonel’s gaze. “Oh, Ake, I had a question…are those handaxes on your belt?”

“Throwing axes actually, if you consider my size. I wouldn’t have them if I couldn’t throw them, especially since they come back.” Ake took out one of his smaller axes and throws them into the distance, then made it come back to his hand, before placing it back in its place.

Ayn let out a low whistle, her martial discipline keeping her calm even as the answer wasn’t exactly what she wanted. If the first strike didn’t land, then just keep striking away. “So,” she continued, “If you weren’t considering your size, you’d call them handaxes?”

"Wouldn't you call a rapier, properly sized for a rat a toothpick? But yes if i was as small as you I would call them hand axes."

“I’ll take that!” Ayn crowed, seizing her victory with a wide-tooth smirk. “Hear that, Leo? Handaxes! You throw them!” She patted Ake on the shoulder as she walked off. “Find me at the Virgin Merrow, friend. I’ll take you on, injuries or not!”

...

Ayn wasn’t a materialistic person, really. She didn’t need many comforts to live, and the excesses of luxury would only dull her blades. It was why she was satisfied with just a roof over her head and straw bedding for a night’s rest, after all. Simple tools were enough to keep a blade sharp, and simple meals were enough to keep a person fed.

That being said, even then, seven hundred and fifty Daric within the work of a morning? She had to keep herself from daydreaming about all that could buy, her hands tight over her wrists as if to lock the avaricious grip away. It was hard, indeed, to picture what ‘breaking even’ meant for an adventurer within the Amaric Temple now, if they could make this much money on a relatively shallow floor. Sure, this was largely due to the mossmen they had swept up, but on the other hand, it was clear that their method of combat had cost them some amount of what they could’ve collected.

If they had been more careful…if they had considered more strategies…if they had utilized regular steel instead of holy flame…

It was easy to dream. Better focus on the present.

“No problem,” Ayn spoke, as the most injured of the lot. “Let’s leave now then. We got a lot to talk about on the road anyways, right? Like, what should we buy in prep for the next trip? Is it gonna be a multi-day one? And for the whole leader thing too…does Symphony get more chances, or are we picking someone new right now? Oh, and magic weapons and armor! What can we get with the daric we're gonna have?"

 

[Merciless Medic]

LOCATION—Trading Post,
Amaric Temple
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—1003

Cole Forrest​

Lvl. 1 | Warlock
Status: Intrigued, Exasperated
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2
Pact 1/1

TAGS EmperorsChosen Prizzy Kriyze Sir Les Paul November Witch

Cole watched Leander as the mage went about thinking, only to notice how his eyes darted. Usually, it was pretty common to see eyes minutely shift because it was almost impossible for the eyes to stay completely still, but Leander's eyes darted around. Cole had a hard time judging what Leander was looking at in any given moment, so he thought Leander's eyes were having a seizure.

Well, that would normally be the case if this man didn't have such a proficiency with lightning (and even then, most eyes during a seizure roll back).

All Cole could think about was likely how quickly his mind thought if this theme of being "the embodiment of lightning" was to continue. Even how he stood made Cole think of a soldier. No mere boy would stand like that. It honestly intimidated Cole a little. He would hate to be stared at by this guy.

Just as quick as it had happened, it ended as soon as Leander began speaking. He raised an eyebrow at the objects he chose. Staff or scepter...

Well, given Cole capitalized on his agility, a staff would be too long and impede movement, but a scepter... Yeah, a scepter could work. He nodded slowly as Leander further explained, giving an impressed smile. Leander continued, figuring a wand would help if he wanted to practice his own magic. Thank goodness it was cheap, but at the same time, Cole wondered how cheap it was in relativity to what Leander's wallet. "Thank you-" He couldn't even finish his sentence, as Leander immediately shifted subjects and began staring at him. Cole felt a little vulnerable, he didn't like the way Leander stared through him.

Until Leander spoke about Lumina. He sighed with some exasperation, looking away, only glancing back when Leander actually agreed with his points but thought it was best to apologize.

The actual advice he gave from his father had Cole raising an eyebrow. "What are you, a dad now?" He gave a soft chuckle, his joke more playful than scathing. "I'm no good talking to people in general, most of what I say - first, second, third, and beyond - come out wrong. But, we'll see how it goes. Oh," He held up a finger as he sensed Cecelia was nearby. "-and before we run away from the topic of magical weapons, you lightning-fast-topic-changer, thank you. With scepters, it matters, because you don't want to accidentally cause friendly fire if your patron doesn't give a shit about how far it spreads." He huffed, sighing as he thought about Abarex. "And I am allowed to learn other magic, I'm just not good at learning beyond what was given to me, the ice spell should be obvious."

That could be fixed.

Cecelia's one comment had Cole snickering. He hummed, looking over to where Lumina was. "Fine... But what do I even say...?" It was a question more so aimed at himself than at Leander, but it wasn't quiet enough for it to sound like Cole was mumbling to himself.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (1st Floor)
DATE—Early Summer, 07/02
TIME—1005

Leander 🗲 Cromwell​

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

TAGS Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen November Witch

It seemed Cole could at least keep up. Leander had met many that couldn't. A pleasing prospect given that the young sorcerer had a disdain for being held back. He could recall plenty of times at the Consortium that he would be amongst his peers and either thinking or speaking well beyond them. In magical theory courses, he was often thinking one chapter ahead in their texts. But, then, he knew well enough that he couldn't demand everyone keep up with his pace. Fast though he was, he was hardly the most gifted.

For a brief moment, Leander thought back to his courses on the natural flow world mana. On a fundamental level, the world had ley lines like blood vessels and within them was mana so rich and pure that it would kill a lesser mage to harness. Current study tried to follow the flow of mana as it dispersed from ley lines into local environments, but there was older means of study that looked for explanations regarding odd magical phenomenon that could be observed. It was one such class that he was first humbled by another brilliant mind. One Lace Dewbuan, a nine-year-old Twice-Blessed Quartling from the Borosi Empire that could be described as nothing less than a prodigy.

When she was first exposed to the idea that one could try to deduce the flow of mana from both directions, her mind began racing until within the half hour, she asked a question to their professor that was the backbone of the what was known as the Simohne Theorem: that mana, if unaffected by other forces, would always find and take the path of least magical resistance. While it was a widely-accepted principle, it was a fairly complex one. It took multiple researchers determining that magical occurrences contrary to the idea were being acted on by unknown forces. That fact alone led to dozens of findings when researchers began looking in places they shouldn't.

Lace pieced it together through logical deduction in a half hour. The professor was astounded; it was weeks before he intended to introduce that concept to the class due to how new and relatively controversial it was.

Leander was still at the time exploring just how many weird and wild things mana would do in an environment before it finally dissipated. A girl four years his senior was that far ahead. The boy of lightning thus knew all-too-well what it was like to be left in the dust. He was just glad he didn't have to extend too much patience for his allies.

Cole spoke. Blah -blah-blah, slightly useful information about Patron Magic, admitting he sucked with normal magic, Leander got the gist. And, Cecelia got the jump. Specifically, the jump on them, he wasn't expecting his commentary or advice to be overheard by her. It did have the potential to put a slight damper on their relationship. There was a good chance it might have hurt any trust that was building. Though, if she was smart, she wouldn't trust a soul.

Game on, bitch.

"That is a good question..." Leander responded to Cole, though he wasn't going to keep his focus on their Demi-Human pal for long.

"Cecelia, darling, since gentlemen like us must think it thrice over, why don't you give some advice to our dear comrade Cole on how he should apologize?" Leander suggested, firing back at the teasing sarcasm that she had bombarded him with earlier.

"Perhaps if I'm impressed, I might let slip one of those firstborn thoughts," he tacked on, only ever riding the wave of danger at knife's edge.

 

[November Witch]

Symphony

~{Setting Off Alone}~​

Status: Neutral
Location: Amaric Temple - 1st Floor
Interaction(s): Sir Les Paul ERode Haze- Carolyn

Symphony stayed relatively silent, and simply watched and listened as the interactions went on around here. She didn’t have anything else to add or anything to say herself. So, she remained silent for more of the time. Until Heleni twirled around to face her.

“At one point, yes. There were many of us at one point. Thousands, or maybe tens of thousands. I can’t remember. But now there are certainly very few. I don’t think it is probable, but it is possible I am all that remains.” She would admit. Symphony assumed there were some of her siblings left. Somewhere in the tens. But she didn’t think triple digits were likely. The doll also didn’t think she was the last one. But it was certainly possible.

The girl was somewhat relieved when Markus ushered them onwards. She didn’t really want to spend time talking to strangers. What Markus went on to explain didn’t seem to matter much to Symphony, as she still didn’t care much for social interactions, so she stayed quiet, until he asked a question directed at her. One not related to dungeoneering… She was surprised, but her answer was simple.

“Because my goddess told me so.”

-

Symphony was intent on heading to the city to check it out and look for possible avenues for cash when she wasn’t in the dungeon. So, she didn’t want to waste any of her time waiting for mortals and their needs. “If you all would like to judge me on a single encounter, so be it. Whatever the group votes for, I will concede to.” Symphony told Ayn as she asked about the doll being their leader still. “I will see you all at 2 then.” She would pull out a pad of paper from her satchel, and mark the time down, as to not forget as she walked off towards the stairs to the surface away from the group.

 

[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 , Sir Les Paul , ERode

"What did you think we eat in the cold north? Rabbits are hard to find, foxes would be blasphemy for my village to eat, greens are hard to farm or find, and our main sustenance are fish, moose, and bears, along with whatever we manage to farm or gather in the few months when it's hotter than normal out there." Ake answered Malik's question in a monotone manner as he usually did with anything during their journey so far.

"Not that hard to lose when you are sparring. Sparring's job is to improve, find your or someone's weaknesses, where they lack training, and help them realize it and patch it up. If that isn't achieved it could be counted as a loss in sparring." Ake answered semi-psychologically, though he earned this view on the matter from Gramps. Sparring and not growing from it to Gramps was the same as going into a fight and dying, sure it was extreme but it got the right image into someone's head to motivate them to improve.

When the little one known as Ayn called out his name he turned his head towards her with a questioning look on his face, and after hearing out her question he said.
“Throwing axes actually, if you consider my size. I wouldn’t have them if I couldn’t throw them, especially since they come back.”
Ake said as he took out one of his smaller axes into one of his hands before throwing it into the distance as if some enemy stood there, only for Ake to soon extend his hand to the side to catch the returning axe, then he put it back in its place along his hip.

"Wouldn't you call a rapier, properly sized for a rat a toothpick? But yes, if I was as small as you, I would call them hand axes." Ake replied to her second question, He did not know why she wanted to ask such a question, but seeing as his first interaction in the dungeon was sour he wanted this one to at least end up sweeter than that one. Though seeing his answer being used to spite or prove a point to another member of a party did make Ake a bit confused about social interactions in this land. Though he was glad that seemingly out of it he gained a friend or at least a sparring buddy.
"If you so wish, just don't cry later on because of it Ayn. We Goliaths rarely know the meaning of holding back, so I expect you to do the same." He answered waving one of his hands at Ayn's direction as they were going their separate ways.

"So Lucas where do we go next?" Ake asked Lucas as he was their guide, and as guides should guide, Ake left it to him, especially since Ake really hated mazes, and sadly was poor in directions within such enclosed spaces.

 

[Haze-]

LOCATION— Amaric Temple (5th Floor)
DATE— Early Summer
TIME— 1131

⚜ Leonel Blackmane ⚜​

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

TAGS ERode Sir Les Paul November Witch Carolyn

There was a short moment where he exchanged glances with Ayn, caught a glimpse of the fiendish glint in her eye, like a shark in crimson waters, though he didn’t think much of it. Leonel, instead, busied himself with wiping a thumb over his breastplate to smear a green blotch of plant-blood off of him. Absentmindedly, bored, completely out of frame from the conversation.

His eyes only snapped back up to focus on the group when he heard her voice call out to the Goliath — “Oh, Ake, I had a question…are those handaxes on your belt?” — He knew exactly what she was trying.

“Oh, fuck off…” — And his knee-jerk reaction was to spit out something un-Paladin-like.

What a fool he was. Of course she’d take up the chance to make fun of him.

“Yeah, yeah— handaxes…I get it.” — Leonel grunted, waved her off and starting taking steps behind Symphony. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame the big man for going along with her, he only had a crumb of the context behind their pettiness. What he could find within himself, however, was the stubbornness to turn a cold shoulder and plug his ears. He had crawled out of what would’ve been his grave, half-dead, every fiber of his being only locomoting out of sheer spite; what was he if not a stubborn bastard.

Oh, he would show her a throwable longsword, alright.

“Blessing of the light go with you, friends.” — He bid the other group farewell, for now.

---

Seven hundred and fifty Daric in— what — 10, 20 minutes? Enough coin to have a commoner with dotted stars glimmering in their eyes. He was seeing a live example with Ayn, as a matter of fact. She wasn’t doing much of a good job at hiding it.

His reaction was almost a one-to-one from that of the doll’s; he just brushed off the sum. It wasn’t an amount he hadn’t seen in his hands before.

Leonel had been the son of a noble lord since he had the strength in the arms to swing a sword, the brain power to be aware of his situation. Even if he was a bastard son, a slave preened into lordship on the whims of a mad warlord, he had still enjoyed the privileges that came with the life. After the hellish trainings had passed, each day, he’d step into the innards of Blackmane Manor and rest his sore muscles until they were good enough to raise his blade again. The royalty, the pretense luxury, the absurd ‘allowance’ he had at his disposal, all of it made the days a little more bearable back then, in some odd ways.

It could have been much worse — “I’m good. We should get going.” — He crossed his arms, tapped a metal nail on his armguard — “On another note, I do plan to spend all of my earnings on at least one new piece of equipment. Would you mind showing me where these ‘magic scrolls’ you mentioned are sold at, then, Stonehart? A smithy’s a given, but I’ve not a clue on where to find a shop that sells magical items. Never been to one.”

Then there was the whole thing about leadership.

He took a paused beat of silence, throwing glances between all members of the group. It would’ve flawed pick no matter which they picked. Ayn would send them marching off into their deaths in record time. Heleni was still an inexperienced crusader, no matter how talented, prone to mistakes, even ones as simple as picking the wrong target in battle. Symphony simply didn’t understand human emotion, or even humans at all, wouldn’t be able to move them properly on the battlefield.

And he, well, he was a washed old fraud who’d long since lost the right to lead.

It was a matter of picking the option that would (probably) get them killed in the long run, not the next delve, then. They could work on it later.

The one thing he knew is that Ayn was definitely not in the list of prospect leaders — “Who is going to be our leader? That’s a good question.”

 

[Carolyn]

HELENI​

The depth of Symphony’s history reminded her of the turquoise water that drifted in and out of Ardynport’s shore. It plunged beyond normal insight into the realm of mystery. There were thousands like the doll long ago. Now there were a handful at best and one at worst. What had the amber eyes that watched Heleni seen? What calamity left unspoken caused such loneliness? The younger girl felt a knot in her stomach.

“That’s a more somber thought than I expected,” she confessed. Her teeth were bare in pithy. She dared to even put a hand on Symphony’s shoulder. “I pray you’ll meet a kin of yours someday. Even waves meet, after all.” An old Ardynian saying from its nautical heritage. Sailors needed the comfort of those words in the Borosi Sea.

Past the point of their return to the Trading Post, Heleni counted her share of the loot. Five white darics with a hundred basic coins to spare. This amount was far more than she’d earned either as an orphan or a student. The contract had to be cashed later, but it was in principle still hers. “The sisters will be happy about this,” she said offhand.

“We’re all still learning here. And Symphony did kill the bounty in the end, no matter how messily done,” she said, picking up on the dialogue about their leadership. “Unless either of you want to take charge, I think we give her another chance.”

 

[Sir Les Paul]

LOCATION—en route to Ardynport
DATE—07/02 | Early Summer
TIME—2011

Markus ⚜ Stonehart​

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

TAGS November Witch (mention) Haze- Carolyn ERode

Shhhhhhlink.​

The sound of Markus' sharpening stone sliding across the edge of the spear Leonel carried. Not that it wasn't entirely sharp before, but that Markus felt it was sharpened wrong. It was sharpened like a knife with an overly fine edge. While a spear could in theory make use of such an edge, it was mostly used to stab and penetrate. In that way, it was more like an axe than a sword or knife. To work optimally, it needed a wider angle. Else, especially with the low-quality iron used to make the [Unimpressive Spear], it was too delicate for the harsh work it needed to withstand.

Sitting 'round the campfire before bed, Markus showed Leonel just how to reshape the edge. It was a bit of work, but it would save chipping and damage later on down the line. Might even prevent it from failing at its earliest inconvenience.

Not that Leonel was his only concern. The group had voted Symphony to remain their leader. He still felt that a mistake in and of itself, but some mistakes were worth learning from. Perhaps this would prove one of them. Besides, it seemed like none of them had the drive to lead. They all voted for her, the construct. A construct of another god was a blasphemous thing in and of itself. Yet, still, the friction that would be caused by enforcing his opinion wasn't worth it.

Nothing of import now. Symphony was long ahead of them and Markus had promised to answer other questions in depth once they stopped.

"Lest you know a Wizard with skill as a Scribe, the most reliable place to get Magic Scrolls is the Myriad Arcana. Rule of thumb with scrolls: if the deal is too good to be true, it normally is. Most basic Spells can be made into scrolls and sold, but it costs the mana and mental fortitude of the maker to do so. It means every scroll you buy was a Spell a wizard had to give up casting in addition to the hours it took to write it. Don't be too shocked if you see a [Scroll of Fireball] priced at two-fifty or even three-hundred Daric. You may only use it once, but that one time could save your life," Markus explained, monotonously going over the ins and outs of scrolls. He was still focused closely on the edge of the spear, making sure he kept a steady angle every time his coarse stone went to shave off another layer of the uneven metal.

He hummed, though more low growl given his somewhat gravelly voice.

"There are better scrolls out there than Fireball. Spells that offer more utility are generally cheaper and more worthwhile to buy as scrolls. I won't say I've never been saved by a Fireball or Lightning Bolt, but normally a Wall of Water or Illusion scroll can get the job done. There are some Scrolls worth it for different reasons. Dispel Magic, Mana Disruption Field, Silence Sphere... all expensive, but also things that can save your ass against powerful magic or casters. Think about it: if Leonel, Heleni, or I couldn't pray in a Sphere of Silence, we can't use half our abilities," he told them, livening up slightly as he gave them more specific input about the scrolls he specifically found useful. He wasn't going to tell them that some of those scrolls cost upward of eight hundred Daric.

He did quickly add another bit of information, "On that thought, abilities like ours granted from Espel can't generally be made into a scroll. There are only a handful of Bishops in the world that can do so and none in Ardynport."

He flipped the spear over. It was time for the other side.

"Magic items are a whole different ordeal. They come in a few varieties, but the ones you'll likely encounter first are the lowest-level: Maintained Magic Items. I'm sure you've heard the legends of swords and shields with magical enchantments that could fell dragons and block their breath, but the truth about it is items like those are incredibly rare, even in the Dungeon. The vast majority of Magic items are manufactured. Maintained Magic Items can be found at various stalls in the Dungeon Square and there were even some at the Trading Post. Their enchantments are generally pretty straightforward, but they wear off over time. You have to pay to refresh the enchantment. Some can go a few weeks, some a few months, but if you let it go entirely, it has to be reforged and at that point it would be cheaper just to get a new one. That all said, it's generally worth it. Once you get to a certain point in the Dungeon, actually, you need a way to combat some enemies that will melt metal and leather like it's nothing... magic items, Spells from a caster, or alchemic salves are the only way to do that. So, unless we have someone like Lucas or Heleni learns a spell that will protect all of us from corrosion, magic items are the most reliable way to go," Markus explained, though this time he was a little more scattered. The topic of Magic Items was a big one and admittedly an exciting one. Going into it all would be a time-consuming task, which he wasn't against, but he didn't know how much the group actually cared.

"There are also some magic items that are for utility. The most well-known is a Bag of Holding. The Dungeon Guild makes these, some secret recipe it seems. They used to give them out freely, but that caused problems. Even in other Dungeons, people would slit your throat and take your bag. Now, they keep track of every Supporter with one and don't sell them. If you want to buy one, it's some absurd price to keep the merchants off them. Something like ten gold bars, if I recall. It's a pain, but the Guild maintains them for their Supporters for free. I've seen other items, though. A flask that could capture creatures of a certain strength level, mirrors that consumed mana or reflected spells, a Rook chess piece that could turn into a small fortress, and even once a whole boat that unfolded from a woman's purse. Some are useful in the Dungeon, some aren't, and I frankly don't know where people even got half of'm," Markus told them, going over one of the more obvious magical items present and some of the more wonderous ones he had seen.

"As for what you actually need, a lot of that is preference. With this haul, you could probably get one half-decent Magical weapon, or you could save up for an better one. The cheaper ones might give you some magical effect like a Lightning Blade, but they won't have magical resistance; or, they'll have magic resistance, but no effect. Save up your coin and you can get one with both. You'll all want some type of magic armor eventually, what type doesn't matter. Aside from that, most parties will either buy their own potions and elixirs or they'll throw money at their Supporter to do it. Either way, most of the time, the Supporter holds onto them. Now if you use poisons or tonics for your weapons, those are generally on you," he informed them, though his attention was broken for a moment.

The fire was now dancing in the new, thicker bevel of the spear he was sharpening. it was shaped, quite evenly, something even Ayn might notice and appreciate. Markus had a fine eye for detail and there wasn't a fault in his regrind of the blade. No, instead, he swapped out his stone. With the spearhead reshaped, it wasn't actually very sharp. He needed to put an edge on it's new, thicker bevel, then it would be ready for Leonel to use. In the old stone went into a bowl of water and out came another, darker stone. The shlink sound this one made was distinctively different.

"After we cast out the contract, I suppose I can walk you lot through the Dungeon Square to show you where a few things are," Markus offered, returning his focus to the task at hand.

 

[Shotgunpenguin]

LOCATION—Amaric Temple (4th floor - 7th floor)
DATE—Early Summer
TIME—10:34

Lucas Decovo

Level 3 | Alchemist/Supporter
Status: Cautious
Ki Points 4/4
Spell Slots
Lvl. 1 2/2
Lvl. 2 1/1

TAGS The Regal Rper @Daddy Dream Megilagor Sir Les Paul

Lucas stood in the background as Markus and his groups exchanged small pleasantries, as well as offers of sparring that were thankfully turned down on his end. It seemed like their groups were hitting it off, or at the very least weren’t immediately hostile to each other. While that might have sounded pessimistic, the fact of the matter was that Marcus was right in a sense. Every delver was out for themselves, and the same person you waved to as you descended could be the very same person who could steal a bounty from right underneath your nose.

Giving a slight huff of amusement, he jerked his head towards his goliath companion before giving a small wave with his free hand. Despite having already been hit on earlier in the day, Lucas was pretty sure that Ayn’s offer of sparring was just that, and not a veiled suggestion of getting some alone time with the goliath. If that was what she wanted, Lucas was pretty sure she could find herself a partner in the Ballard district. “Ahh come on Markus, it’s just a little fun. Besides, whatever happens outside of the dungeon ain’t none of our business.”

At Markus’ rather forced ascent of his party, he rolled his eyes and gave a small two fingered wave to the man. He was good at his job, but by the gods could he sometimes come off as prickly as a porcupine that was slathered in chili powder.

“If you’re ever in the market for potions or elixirs, stop at my shop!” Lucas cupped a hand over his mouth and called out, his voice echoing down the stone halls and after the departing group. “First building once you cross the bridge into Ardynport!” It never hurt to get his name out there to fresh faced delvers, considering that his extracts and droughts made up the majority of his income from the store. When the average delver could expect to earn a months wages for someone who worked physical labor in a single delve, they tended to be able to afford quality goods.

Letting his hand drop back to his side, he turned to his group and lifted his quarterstaff before laying it on his trapezius and draping his arms over the ends. Turning as Ake asked him where the group would be going now, he jerked his head down the corridor that Markus’s group had come from. “We’ll continue down to the lower levels. Should be pretty quiet all things considered if they managed to come back up without any trouble.” He was about to motion for the rest of the group to move out, when a thought came to him.

Markus mentioned rooms of surprise earlier. It’d probably be dangerous if one of the three he was guiding entered into one without thinking, as slim as that chance might have been. “Should probably explain something Markus mentioned. He mentioned rooms of surprise, and how more experienced delvers tend to ignore them.” Lucas motioned for the group to follow behind him, following Markus’s lead in getting his group moving. Seeing how they were descending down the same path his group was emerging from, he could afford to give an explanation to the trio.

“Essentially, a room of surprise is an anomaly in the dungeon, one that appears at random once you get down past the fifth floor. As the name implies, the contents of the room are a surprise. It could be chock-full of monsters and creatures, it could be filled to the brink with traps of all kinds, or it can even be empty. Hell, there’s even a chance of something nastier from a lower floor poking its head in if you’re unlucky.” While those situations were common enough, there was usually a limit to how deep the room would pull from. From what Lucas knew, outside extreme circumstances, the creatures tended to be pulled from around five floors below where the room appeared. Which meant that a room on the seventh floor could have creatures that only existed on the twelfth or thirteenth floor. Dangerous for unsuspecting parties, but not a death sentence.

“Of course, if all the rooms offered were danger and no reward, no one would bother with them. No matter what, somewhere in the room are some pretty valuable goods.” He explained, coming across a split in the dungeon. Removing an arm from his quarterstaff, he reached into a small pouch attached at his hip, he produced a small stick of charcoal and marked the wall leading right with an X, before stowing the charcoal and leading onward.

“What form the goods take varies. It can be anything from pure steel ingots, jewelry, magical artifacts, or even armor and weapons. Point being, there’s always some sort of value in them. Whether the risk is worth the reward however….” Lucas trailed off, shaking his free hand around his side. Sometimes it was very much worth it, with a quick jaunt and encounter resulting in enough loot to live comfortably off of for at least a month. Other times, you might fight tooth and nail and come out half-dead, only to find everything had been destroyed in the chaos.

That uncertainty, especially at lower levels where the line between life and death was already razor thin, meant that unless a quest was issued most rooms of surprise went unexplored.

---

07/02 | 1126​

Much to the surprise of even Lucas, the Rooms of Surprise on rooms five and six were completely barren. Not even noon on the opening day of Summer and two floors were already picked over. Rumor was this year had a particularly large batch of new delvers (and the amount of Spellswords amongst them was no secret), but two floors being clearly out so quickly was unprecedented. In his first year as a delver, the fifth floor wasn’t entirely clear until the end of the day and the sixth still had a few pesky rooms until midweek. Some Rooms were simply more difficult than others, some had an encounter that wasn’t defeaten in conventional means.

For two floors to be wiped clean so quickly, it was an accomplishment. Clearing them all out today meant, depending on the activity in the Dungeon, some if not all of the Rooms of Surprise would be available again by the end of the week. That type of turnover was virtually unheard of. The Ballard Company at one point had tried to enlist combat slaves to create a cycle–just one of their many shady attempts to monopolize the Dungeon–but this type of free for all was on an entirely different level.

Markus wasn’t the only familiar face Lucas had met on their way down, either. Each passing was shorter and shorter, reinforcing the idea that social meetings within the halls of the Dungeon were short, professional, and effervescent if they existed at all. In the few times more words were said, it was rumors being shared with Lucas.

Apparently, word was that a few rookie delvers slipped past the guards to the Boss room on the tenth to get to the eleventh floor. In general, the rule was that even of a boss had been slain–and it obviously was as veterans needed to get by–that one was not to pass the threshold of the floor if they had not slain it. This proved to be a self-solving problem, as he was told, as apparently half that squad was killed. Not only that, but some fights had broken out between Free Companies–requiring the Dungeon Guild to send enforcers to intervene. That’s probably what someone like Griffith was doing just sitting back at the Trading Post.

That all paled in comparison to the rumors that there were already fifty deaths in the Dungeon. Suspicions were raised about some type of murderer, but nothing confirmed yet.

The rumor mill in the Dungeon wasn’t a new thing, though. There were always incredulous stories amongst the delvers. This year was just particularly rough. Made worse by the fact plenty of teams were having issues finding any encounters at all.

Lucas had a clear advantage, though. As one of the teams that was comprised entirely of relatively powerful Spellswords, at the first level or otherwise, there was a certain level of justified confidence in what they could do. If they had to have their first real combat encounter on the seventh or even eighth floor, it might be tough, but it was probably doable, especially if he helped. Parties with fewer or no Spellswords couldn’t quite say the same.

Thus, despite the fact the party had to walk past the corpses of two former delvers left behind by their party and a handful of doors marked as deviant–Deviant Doors being those that did something unexpected, such as pull from outside of the Dungeon–and weird, out-of-place shadows cast by webs intended to catch Dungeon Beetles, it was in many ways a relief. The eighth floor Rooms of Surprise could pool from creatures known to be corrosive, and starting out against foes that could dissolve gear might prove problematic before proper income was established.

What Lucas, and his party, would come to is a large, dark-wooden door inset in the stone of the Dungeon along a hall with a handful of other doors interspersed onto it, only two open of six in total. This was a rare find indeed. It meant if the encounter went well, they might even have another lined up quite conveniently. More so, it gave some hope that the entire floor hadn’t been entirely cleared out yet. Seeing several doors like this was a good indicator that this probably wasn’t a Deviant Door, at least.

Lucas held up a hand to signal the group to pause as he inspected the doors in front of him. He considered whether or not to pass up on the rooms, a part of him reminding himself that he was acting as a guide as of now and not a delver. But another part argued that he shouldn’t pass up the opportunity in front of him, as both a delver and a guide. They had already made it down to the seventh floor, all without encountering any kind of trouble. If this continued, they’d arrive at the tenth floor and potentially face off against the floor boss. All without him having any idea of how well they could each hold their own, let alone how they handled fighting as a group. These rooms presented a perfect opportunity for him to see what he was working with, and whether or not he even thought that they should descend any further.

Turning to address the group, he let his hand fall to his hip as he spoke. “Right, listen up. Since the previous floors have been cleaned out, we’ve had it good with avoiding having to fight.” Lucas brought his hand up and rapped his knuckles against the stone wall just shy of the door. He avoided knocking on the door itself in the chance that it was inhabited by creatures. If they were going to go in, it’d be best if they kept the element of surprise on their side.

“Havin’ said that, I can’t say I feel comfortable with us going down any further until I know you all can handle yourselves. So here’s the deal. This is one of those rooms of surprise I mentioned before. Seems undisturbed, which means that there should be something that'll be a good test in there. You lot clear the room, and I’ll know you can hold your own.” Whether that something was creatures, traps, or a combination of the two, it’d be a good experience for everyone involved.

The trio could get a grip on each other's styles, how they thought and approached a combat scenario. Wouldn’t be a good thing if Roika started throwing out mass area spells while Ake tried to close the distance. As for Lucas, it’d let him understand exactly what he was dealing with. Their current formation was all theoretical, and there was no telling exactly how it would hold up once they tried to use it. This way, if it ended up failing they could always make a hasty retreat and rethink their strategy.

“Of course, I expect you all to use your heads. If you think it’s too much, we all retreat and shut the door behind us. Can always try again later, once you’re better prepared. Knowing when to cut your losses and run is just as important down here as being able to hold your own. Is that understood?”

Lucas made sure to give each of the trio a long look, one that conveyed that he wouldn’t think twice about having to drag them out of the room by force if necessary. An action that he secretly hoped wouldn’t come to pass, especially in the case of Ake. Once he was sure that the message was clear, he turned and pressed a hand against the wooden door. Gripping his quarterstaff in his other hand, the muscles in his legs tensed, ready to leap back should something come rushing towards him as he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

 

[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

The rogue's head tilted but slightly at Leander's call to her, a sign that she was indeed listening as she continued to peruse the weaponry before her. Darling was an interesting choice. It didn't bother so much as it was an unusual. She could count the number of times she was addressed as such, none of which were used with the cheeky little tone he spoke of it with.

"Ah, Ser Leander's firstborn thoughts? What an enticing offer," Cecelia remarked with dry wit, her eyes still window-shopping before she finally turned to look at the two directly.

"A gift perhaps--Albeit she doesn't appear very fond of flowers." Cecelia's tone made it difficult to tell if that was another poke or honest statement.

Despite the levity, Cecelia couldn't help but consider their suggestion. Lumina was a strange one, but her behavior thus far gave some indication of her outlook. She appeared to be more of a researcher than adventurer. She didn't seem like she took offense to being questioned. Rather she seemed to enjoy it and approve of it, indicating she wasn't that sensitive or overly emotional. Lumina also quite harshly rejected Cole's attempt at flirtation, but even if he hadn't produced a wilting flower, she doubted the woman's reaction would've been different. That along with everything else gave Cecelia the impression that their guide preferred things of substance rather than shallow.

"Perhaps simply apologize," Cecelia finally said, turning back to observe the shopkeep's inventory. "Recognize that you were overly crass and apologize for it. State your confusion towards her previous lecture, albeit with better choice of words and follow-up by asking her about her experience in the Dungeon--What led to her suggesting that we should question our mentors? It's plain that something must have occurred within the Dungeon, whether that be a mentor lying or making a mistake. I'm sure she would appreciate an inquiry and attempt to understand her statements than just shallow apology, rejection, or blind following."

Then again, Cecelia was raised to stab people in the back rather than make friends. She was ever cordial, of course, but she wasn't exactly a people person either.

"Am I entitled to thee's first thought's now or must we wait to see how Ser Cole executes my advice?"