by Neven Iliev
It was worth keeping in mind that this rating signified the recommended power level an individual needed to safely complete a task. It was only a rough assessment meant to be taken as a guideline, as it was literally impossible for such a metric to be completely accurate all the time. Job, Skill, and gear compositions varied wildly, not only from one person to the next but also between adventuring parties.
For instance, it was entirely possible that a group of adventurers with an average Level of 30 could flawlessly complete a three-star Quest. Even a four-star one wasn’t out of reach if they had excellent teamwork, equipment, and were prepared to suffer casualties. A five-star one was, however, nothing short of a suicide mission for that theoretical team. Whether they would be allowed to leave on that expedition depended entirely on the internal policies of the guild they belonged to.
As far as the Mercenary Guild was concerned, they allowed pretty much anyone to accept Quests from their Board, no questions asked.
However, such freedom came at a price in the shape of a mandatory deposit. It was a requirement unique to the Mercenary Guild wherein individuals would have to leave behind a certain amount of gold for every Quest they undertook, to serve as collateral. If the mercenary accomplished their task to a satisfying degree, they would get their deposit back in full in addition to the Quest’s completion reward. Should they fail or disappear, never to be heard from again, then the guild would re-post the Quest and keep their deposit for themselves.
That way the guild either had a satisfied customer in the face of the one who posted the Quest, or they had a lump sum of gold with which to settle any damages or grievances that resulted from the failure of the Quest. Even if the Quest was technically complete they also had the authority to withhold part of the deposit should the client have viable complaints. Bottom line was that the Mercenary Guild would make a profit no matter what happened in the field.
There were, of course, a significant number of high-profile Quests that were not made available to outsiders. Non-members also did not have the backing of the Guild should things go awry with a client or the authorities. But such trifling matters were of little concern to Boxxy. The Mimic could get paid without having to subject itself to an Appraisal examination, and that was all that mattered.
“Accept Quest,” it chanted.
Both the crystal and the parchment glowed with a soft yellow light for several seconds. The tracking-type magic then enveloped Boxxy and a message appeared for both it and the receptionist.
[Boxxy T. Morningwood has undertaken a Quest: Collect 120 KG of Bouncewood Bark.]
“Will that be all?” asked the wrinkled old dwarf as he put away the crystal and the parchment behind the counter.
“No,” answered Boxxy. “Selling.”
Its arm reached out from under its cloak once more and placed something before the receptionist that looked like a rose flower made out of steel razors and wires. The dwarf picked it up carefully, making sure not to cut his fingers on the numerous sharp edges that jutted out from it.
“Identify.”
[Bladeblossom]
A disposable weapon made by a rookie Artificer. Pulling on the wire at the base of the Bladeblossom will trigger its mechanism, which launches a high number of spring-loaded blades in all directions. This particular item is of superior construction, allowing it to inflict exceptional damage despite being made out of common materials.
[Estimated Value: 24 GP]
Boxxy had placed three more of the things on the counter by the time the receptionist was finished appraising the first one. The dwarf quickly verified those as well, and then made an offer.
“Alright, I’ll buy all of them for 70 GP.”
The man-shaped monster on the other side of the counter simply nodded in response, as it did not possess the knowledge or people skills necessary to haggle. The dwarf then quickly produced the money and handed it over to complete the transaction. With its business concluded for the moment, the Mimic briskly walked out of the building without saying another word.
One of the human men who had been silently staring at the cloaked figure since it walked in went over to the bar and took a seat on the stool.
“Hey Grog, who was that?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
“Mister Morningwood,” came the casual answer. “He showed up about a week ago and has been working hard ever since.”
“What do you think his deal is?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Though I do kinda like the guy, to be honest.”
“What, really?”
“Sure. He’s quiet, efficient and doesn’t try to haggle with me like the rest of you morons. He’s basically the ideal mercenary in my book.”
“Oh … Right. Yeah, you have a point. I don’t like him one bit, though.”
“Hah! What’s the matter, Torel? Jealous he’s been scooping up all the work?” the dwarf asked with a small chuckle.
“No! Well, a little – but that’s not what I’m talking about. Something about him just don’t feel right.”
“Okay, granted, the fellow is a bit creepy, but –”
“No, no, no, Grog. Not creepy. Terrifying. My hair stands on end whenever I’m in the same room with that guy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” said his ginger-haired companion, sitting on the bar stool next to Torel. “There’s a thick stench of death about him. Just looking his way makes some small part of me want to run for my life.”
“Ah, you two are just imagining things. I mean sure he’s got that ‘mysteeeerious’ and ‘inteeeense’ atmosphere about him, but he’s no worse than most of the other part-timers I’ve seen. Besides, has he ever shown even the slightest sign of hostility?”
“No … I guess not,” Torel admitted.
“Well, maybe he hasn’t shown any hostility, but I definitely fucking felt it!” claimed the other human.
“Hah! Look at you!” Grog mocked. “You’re actually scared of the big guy in the heavy cloak! You’re way too green if you let superficial stuff like that get to you.”
“But what if he’s actually a criminal? Some mass murderer or psychopath!” Torel said.
The dwarf shrugged his shoulders in response.
“Ain’t none of my business. Ain’t none of the Mercenary Guild’s business. And unless he does something to you, it ain’t none of yours, either.”
“Well … what if he has a huge bounty on his head!”
The dwarf stopped organizing his bar and sighed.
“Then it would be some bounty hunter’s business. Look, lad, I like you, so let me offer you some advice on the house: Do not mess with that part-timer.“
“…”
Torel briefly considered the elderly bartender’s words. The dwarf was right, of course. There was no legal profit to be made from poking one’s nose into some suspicious individual’s private matters. Yet some part of him didn’t let him put this matter out of his mind.
“And just so we’re clear,” added the bartender, “neither me nor my bosses are gonna be responsible if someone finds you dead in an alley, alright?”
“Y-yeah, okay. You’ve made your point. I’ll stay out of his way.”
The bartender’s last few words struck a nerve with Torel. Not because he was afraid that scenario would happen. Just the opposite, actually.
His intuition told him they wouldn’t find him at all should he make an enemy of this ‘Mister Morningwood.’
Part Two
Boxxy walked through the streets of Erosa with purpose. The new Quest it picked up required a visit to the dense forest that was visible on the horizon beyond the city’s walls. But that could wait. It had more pressing matters to attend to. As it continued along the relatively crowded streets, however, it yet again noticed an oddity that was pretty much a pattern by that point. Humans were shying away from it, giving its tall, cloaked figure a wide berth. At first it thought that was just the natural reaction to meeting a towering, dark, and maske
d stranger but was growing convinced that wasn’t the case.
Mostly because it was only the humans that reacted this way. Dwarves, elves, and even the rare beastkin or lizard-man all showed much more subdued reactions. They also got out of its way while it walked around town, but that was mostly to avoid bumping into it. The humans practically leapt out of its way with looks of anxiety or even outright fear on their faces. Some even went so far as to let out a yelp and run away whenever they realised the towering stranger had snuck up on them.
It wasn’t just pedestrians, either. Human merchants also seemed unwilling to do business with it, and a few outright denied service. And while non-human businesses treated it with a certain amount of suspicion, that was immediately dispelled when the gold was brought out.
Boxxy had no idea why any of this was happening, but it didn’t like it one bit. Many of its victims had made the same sort of expressions and reactions, so having others act this way when it was supposed to be hiding its true identity was quite untasty. As a mimic, Boxxy’s instincts told it to hide in plain sight and wait for its prey to draw close before it struck. Walking around in the open with so many pairs of eyes following its clearly conspicuous form was the exact opposite of that, making it a nerve-wracking experience.
Having its cover blown and being targeted by more guards and adventurers than the monster could count was something Boxxy wanted to avoid at all costs. However, there was no other way it could accomplish all the things it wanted to do, so it accepted these public appearances as a necessary risk. Thankfully, it reached its next destination without much incident. It stood in front of a small two-story building on the busy market street. The sign above the solid wooden door read ‘Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets.’ There was a large glass window to the left of said door that was too dirty for anything but traces of sunlight to pass through. Boxxy pushed the door open with a pale hand and went inside.
*Ring-a-ding-ding-ding*
The interior of the shop was not too different from the general store Boxxy had visited several times before. Immediately to the right of the entrance was a mostly bare beige wall that had little going for it other than a random picture of what looked like an orange tabby cat. There was a wooden L-shaped counter to its front and left, with several shelves filled with various contraptions and mechanical gizmos behind it. The window was worthless as a light source, though that wasn’t a problem due to the bright lamp hanging from the ceiling. A half-open door was visible in the far left corner from where the Mimic was standing, allowing weird grinding and whirring noises to spill in from the workshop beyond it.
*Ring-a-ding-ding-ding*
Boxxy closed the front door behind it, causing the door frame to ring the little bell overhead for the second time. It immediately felt a pang of relief wash over it. Being indoors was a lot more comfortable than having to deal with the hundreds of prying eyes outside. It didn’t feel quite right being inside a building though, so it was perhaps more accurate to say that its new environment was simply ‘less uncomfortable.’
“Just a minute!” came a slightly squeaky voice from farther inside the shop.
The door in the corner opened up all the way and a creature about the height and build of a nine-year-old human girl walked out from within. She had a cute face with pink hair tied in twin pigtails. A pair of huge, leather-bound safety goggles covered her large green eyes. Black splotches of oil stained her brown overalls, grey work shirt, and heavy leather gloves. In her right hand, she clutched a well-used steel wrench covered with scratches.
This was Cornie Fizzlesprocket, an Artificer and current owner of Fizzy’s Fidgety Widgets. Though she looked like a child, she was already a woman in her early twenties. Her small stature and somewhat awkward proportions were due to the fact that she was a gnome. Though her people were nowhere near as strong as humans due to the difference in height and mass, they more than made up for it in quick wits, sharp eyes, and nimble fingers.
“Oh! If it isn’t Boxxy!” she exclaimed as she lifted the goggles from her eyes.
The Mimic returned the greeting with a nod, which seemed to be a satisfactory response.
“Alright, gimme a sec to clean up,” she added while she disappeared beyond the back door.
As for the monster in her midst, it was still somewhat amazed by how easy it was to get by just by nodding and gesturing. It wasn’t like it couldn’t speak, but it really needed to work on its communication skills when it came to talking with actual people. The last time it tried to hold an actual conversation it almost got arrested for asking a street vendor if she was tasty. It had no idea what this ‘sexual harassment’ thing she kept yelling about was, but it was made abundantly clear it needed to avoid speaking as much as possible.
Fizzy returned from the back after a minute. She had changed out of her filthy clothes, and now wore an off-white tank top, brown work pants, and a fresh pair of gloves. She had also made an attempt at wiping her face, but there was still a small black smudge on her cheek. She walked up to the counter and climbed on top of a small crate so that her entire upper body was visible above it. Her customer, on the other hand, sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, putting the two of them on relatively equal eye level.
“So, what can I do for you, big guy?” asked the peppy gnome.
“Need more lessons and materials,” came the curt reply.
“What, already? Are you sure you properly practised what I taught you last time?”
The Mimic nodded and reached into its cloak, taking out a Bladeblossom identical to the ones it sold earlier and placing it on the countertop. Fizzy reached over and carefully picked it up as she pulled a small screwdriver out of her tool belt. She then began inspecting Boxxy’s handiwork.
“Not bad,” she commented, rolling the device around in her fingers and poking at it with her screwdriver. “Triggering mechanism is put together well, springs are coiled properly, and the blades won’t clash into each other when activated.”
She kept commenting on the device’s construction while taking it apart with practised ease. Once she was done, she gingerly set the partially disassembled Bladeblossom down on the counter and put away her screwdriver.
“You did a great job on the overall assembly,” was her verdict. “Frankly, it’s kind of amazing you can do detailed work like this with those sausage-like fingers of yours ... er, no offence.”
The Mimic waved its hand dismissively, which the gnome took to understand as ‘don’t mind the small stuff.’
“Size aside though, you have some serious talent for this stuff,” she continued. “I only taught you how to make these three days ago and you’re already this good. You should be past Level 2 of the Job by now, right?”
Boxxy nodded in response. The two then sort of stared at each other in silence for several seconds before Fizzy remembered how bad of a conversationalist her latest student was.
“So, er, what Level is your Artificer Job now?”
It was odd that she had to specifically ask all these rather obvious questions, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Doing exactly what one was told was vital for a rookie Artificer. Getting unnecessarily creative or omitting certain steps was how accidents happened in the workshop.
“Four.”
The gnome blinked her huge eyes a few times, then smiled up at her student. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I think I misheard that. Could you repeat yourself?”
“Job is Level 4.”
“Holy – Four? But you only started a week ago!”
The cloaked figure tilted its masked head to show it didn’t quite understand. “So?”
“So? SO? It takes most people a month of practice to get their basics up to that Level! Just how many – wait, didn’t you say something about materials? Did you already use up all the parts you bought last time?”
She got another nod in response.
“B-b-b-but there were enough bits in that toolbox you bought to make a hundred of these!”
Making s
o many and in such a short amount of time was a significant feat, but it wasn’t just about the apparent speed of the assembly. If Fizzy’s newest pupil really did progress that quickly, then almost all of those spring-loaded traps were as well-built as the sample she had just examined. Meaning that the guy in front of her not only worked fast but did so without sacrificing quality. Granted, the gnome herself could easily do the same, but a total rookie pulling that off felt like cheating.
“Show me how you put one of these together!” she demanded.
“No.”
Boxxy didn’t want to demonstrate it for her since that would mean revealing it was a shapeshifter. If this truth got out, then it would no longer be able to stay in town and take advantage of the various goods and services that only civilization could provide. So if Fizzy were to somehow catch wind of it, she would have to be … dealt with.
The persistent gnome, however, wouldn’t give up so easily. “Come on! I’m super curious!”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“No.”
“I swear I won’t spill your secret!”
The Mimic hesitated for a brief moment. If this little thing could keep its secret, then surely it would be okay.
However, it then remembered Xera’s helpful hint for blending into civilized society.
Everybody lies.
“No,” it repeated, though it did little to discourage the increasingly petulant gnome.
“I have to know! I need to know!”
She slammed her tiny fists onto the counter with more force than one would expect from a small woman like her. It actually shook the wooden counter, causing the Bladeblossom to rattle and clatter against its surface.
*Click*
“…”