When he walked inside, he was almost bowled over by the sheer noise being made by the massive number of humans in one place. There must be at least 30 humans just in this room! Most were sitting around tables in little groups, talking loudly to be heard over everyone else, while others were looking at little slips of something attached to a giant wall. No one paid him any attention when he walked in, which he thought was a good sign; he smiled as he thought, this will be easy – I shouldn’t have any trouble finding some help here!
His plans hit a hitch as soon as he approached the bored-looking DAS person behind a counter along one wall. He was dressed in a not-so-practical-for-the-outdoors outfit that included a shiny blue vest and a thin short-sleeved white shirt; his beard was trimmed and neat, cut close to his face – a sharp contrast to the facial hair he had seen on every other person he had ever met.
“In order to become a new recruit with the Dungeon Adventurer Syndicate, you need to have a sponsor that is Rated F or above to vouch for you, along with the 20-silver-piece application fee – which will cover your initial starter gear and supplies, as well as what we require for your SDIA,” the representative told him in a flat voice, as if he had recited those same words every day. Well, maybe he has.
The silver pieces weren’t a problem, as he could easily Create them; the “sponsor” could pose a bit of problem, though. That, and he didn’t know what a “SDIA” was, but he didn’t want to express his ignorance any more than he had to – the Syndicate person was already looking like he wanted Fred to leave him alone. “Ok, I have the silver…but if you don’t mind me asking, where would I find a sponsor?”
The man waved around the room. “Check with any of the other members here, most of them are at or above the requisite Rating. Be warned though, most will only sponsor you if you shell out a little extra coin for them; if you end up not making it to an F Rating within a year, the sponsor gets charged the remaining balance of whatever you owe for the SDIA,” he said, then really looked at Fred for the first time – and apparently didn’t like what he saw.
“Based on your appearance, however, you’d probably have to give them the entire amount.” In a lower voice, he continued, “Look, I’m not supposed to turn away any potential recruits, but you’re in way over your head here, boy. Come back in a couple of years, preferably when you’re old enough to shave.”
Rather than be indignant at the man’s comments, Fred smiled and told him, “I appreciate your concern, but I will take my chances. Thank you for your advice.”
Before he could walk away completely, the Syndicate man grabbed his sleeve. “Ok, if you’re dead set on joining, then I can’t stop you – it’s your funeral. One piece of advice though – stay away from that one.” He nodded his head at what Fred assumed was a woman, as she didn’t have a beard like nearly everyone else in the room. The hair on the top of her head was longer than anyone he had seen before, hanging loosely down her back until it ended just above her knees. Also unlike most of the room’s occupants, she was wearing a long piece of black cloth that covered her from her neck to her feet – practically clinging to her body – and looked impractical for the northern climate.
He turned back to ask why, but the man was already engaged with another person, who was handing him one of the slips from the giant board. Shrugging, Fred faced the crowd and steeled his nerves; it was one thing asking for help from allies that were already part of the same Syndicate as him – it was another trying to convince those same people to vouch for a stranger in the first place. Judging by the Syndicate man’s initial impression of Fred, he was worried it was going to be an uphill battle.
He was right – every group he approached took one look at him and rejected him. Even offering to pay them more silver pieces wasn’t enough; they said it wasn’t about the money and they didn’t want to be responsible for a young kid going and getting themselves killed. A few even laughed at him and told him to “go home to mommy”, which made him angry. A warning from Deecy – who had been listening intently to everything – was enough for him to hold his temper.
“Ignore them – they don’t know your story, nor are they the ones responsible for their deaths. Concentrate on your objective and leave your personal feelings out of it. At least…for now.”
It was easier said than done, though he managed to restrain himself from doing something that he would probably regret. When he had asked every human that had been in there when he arrived, he moved on to the few that had arrived afterwards. By the time he had gone through every single Adventurer inside the building, most of them had left after giving a slip to the same Syndicate man he had talked to earlier.
Well, almost every single one.
He had avoided the lone woman in black the entire time he had been asking and pleading for sponsorship from the other members; she had ignored him running around as well, though Fred thought it was more the fact that she ignored everything around her except for the giant board she was staring at.
With the room essentially empty, he glanced again at the man behind the counter, receiving a pitying look in return. Which quickly turned into a shake of his head as he saw Fred start towards the woman at the end of the room. Ignoring the man, he walked up behind her – intent on asking for her help right away to get it over with – but then he looked at the board for the first time.
Hundreds of slips were pinned to it, covering the entire surface. Here and there, empty spots were present where some of the members had grabbed one off the board, though compared to how many were still there, it was still a vast minority. Thankful that he had learned how to read at a very young age (his parents thought it was imperative for him if he ever did somehow become a dungeon core someday), he read the descriptions on each slip he could see.
He was so lost in his perusal of the board that he completely forgot about the woman standing right in front of him.
Chapter 16
Eisa looked at the job board, hoping to find something lower-rated that she could do by herself. Coming to the backwater town of Gatecross seemed like a good idea a month ago, since the area was known for its lower-rated dungeons nearby; however, the reality of the situation was that even doing what she could solo, there was small likelihood that she could complete one of the jobs – let alone complete a dungeon by herself. Being a Necro-healer allowed for a lot of flexibility, but there was only so much she could do alone.
While she was an E-6th-Rated member of the Dungeon Adventurer Syndicate (which was fairly impressive for a 22-year-old), most of the jobs she saw required at least a party of three or more to complete. Even if they were in a G-1st-Rated dungeon – the easiest of the easy – getting caught by a trap or overwhelmed by a swarm of monsters without backup was a real possibility. Though she doubted it would be enough to kill her, having to retreat and fail the job would damage her reputation even more than it already had been.
The jobs still on the board were variations of the ones she had seen there all month long, with only differences in location and item retrieval. There were even ones that were repeatable, such as the one she had her eye on.
Dungeon Name: Frostwood Forest #23
Dungeon Rating: G-2nd-Rated
Dungeon Type: Plant
Recommended Party Members: 3 or more
Reward: 85% of Dungeon Loot Received, 10 Copper Pieces per Job Item Retrieved
Job Description (Repeatable): Delve into the Frostwood Forest #23 dungeon and retrieve as many of the rare Flearantha Flower as can be found. Only intact flowers with stem are acceptable for job completion.
DAS-provided Equipment: 1 Minor Health Potion per Party Member
Penalty Upon Failure: If less than 1 Flearantha Flower(s) are turned in, any equipment given at the start of the job must be returned or reimbursed at 30 copper pieces each.
It was a crap job, since there wouldn’t be great loot to be found in such an easy dungeon, and the Job Item reward was so low that it was barely worth most parties’ time to journey there a
nd complete it. On top of that, 15% of whatever she found inside the dungeon would be taken as a fee by the DAS. While that might seem excessive, it was usually a great deal when you considered what they provided to would-be parties taking those jobs. Not so much this one – as a single Minor Health Potion was worth maybe 10 copper pieces – but on the more difficult jobs they might provide special equipment, higher-grade potions, or even a monetary advance so you could equip yourselves however you wanted for the expedition.
Additionally, the Flearantha Flower (the item the job tasked those who took it to retrieve) was worth – if you were to sell it in the market – five times what the DAS was paying for it. Every once in a while, there would be someone stupid enough to try keeping what they found inside the dungeons they explored, refusing to give the DAS their cut and selling Job Items on the side, but they were inevitably found out…and never seen again. Therefore, the thought of crossing the powerful organization never even flit across her mind.
Overall, it wasn’t a bad system; the DAS trained new recruits – if they wanted it – and provided some basic gear to start them out with. Along with the job-specific “equipment” they provided for each job, they actually helped a great deal. But the lure of rewards from both the dungeons and what the DAS was offering in exchange for certain items led many to their deaths – a fact that Eisa knew all too well.
A job like this, fortunately, didn’t have a “fail” issue: it was entirely dependent upon how many of the flowers were turned in. Because the flower was rare, it was entirely possible that even a full group of Adventurers going through might not find any at all, though the chance of that was very low. Either way though, it wouldn’t penalize her for not bringing anything back, though she would just have to turn in the Minor Healing Potion they would give her at the onset. Which was fine, because she had other, better potions that she could use if she really needed to use one.
But it would allow her to get back out there and earn a little coin, as well as a little “juice” – the slang term for the energized spiritual essence that defeated dungeon monsters and discharged/deactivated traps gave off. She had been stagnating in her personal development lately, and she was so close to the E-7th-Rating; even an easy dungeon-delve or two would probably get her there. The increase in her available power alone from “rating-up” would be worth the possible danger. Of course, she’d have to be very careful by herself – which wasn’t exactly her strong suit.
Eisa was a lot more reserved and cautious when she was in a group; she had to be, otherwise everything might fall apart since she was usually the designated healer. But when she was by herself…that was an entirely different issue. If she didn’t have to worry about healing anyone but herself, she tended to go all out, taking risks she probably shouldn’t. But as things stood, it was probably her only option, since her reputation had preceded her even in Gatecross; there wasn’t a DAS member within 500 miles that wanted to group with her.
Being the only member (and the only healer) of a 5-person party to come back alive from a dungeon tended to make most people think not-so-nice things about you.
Not that she did anything wrong, but that didn’t matter to the minds of many of the members who heard about the disastrous delve. As a result, she was destined to spend as long as it took going it alone until people either forgot about her or there were enough new recruits that didn’t know who she was. The thought of just abandoning her chosen profession as an Adventurer never even crossed her mind – it was just who she was and there was no going back.
Eisa grabbed the job posting off the board with a quick jerk, committed to finally getting started on her new solo Adventurer career. She wasn’t broke yet, but the day was soon coming where her savings would run out; she needed to find a steady income to sustain at least her room and board at the local inn.
She looked down at the job posting in her hand, sighing in resignation as she glanced past it at the travel-stained, tight-fitting black wool dress she was wearing. Is that a tear near the hem? Where did that come from? She didn’t have enough coinage lying around for such luxuries as laundry and repairs at the moment – and she couldn’t sew if her life depended on it. She had another, nicer blood-red colored dress, but it was much thinner than the one she was wearing; despite it being spring already, it was still so cold this far north that she’d freeze if she didn’t wear her warmer wool outfit.
Her long, loose-flowing, straight black hair swirled around her face as she turned toward the Syndicate’s counter, intent to get started on the job as soon as she could. She was eager to get out there and finish it quickly, so that she could come back and repeat it; dungeons of this Rating were usually able to respawn and restock their monsters and loot within a couple of hours. It was still early enough in the day that she might be able to finish the job twice if she hurried and it wasn’t too far away.
She took one step without looking where she was going and smacked hard right into someone behind her; it was such a surprise that she rebounded backwards and lost her footing. She would’ve hit the ground if a hand hadn’t reached out and grabbed her wrist with a bit of strength, checking her fall and giving her enough leverage to re-right herself.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to get in your way.” A young man’s confident voice overrode her surprise at the sudden impact, and the hand that helped her from being sprawled over the ground let go of her as soon as she was steady. Her hair had fallen in her face after the impact, so she reached up quickly and pushed it aside, looking at who she had bumped into.
A country bumpkin, fresh off the farm and looking to get rich by living the “glamorous” life of an Adventurer. At least, that’s what he looked like with his freshly shaved face (or maybe he isn’t even old enough to shave – I can’t tell), unadorned basic coat and pants, and dirty tattered boots. Even the bag over his shoulder looked plain and home-made, most likely filled with food and little mementos from home. The only thing going for him were the two knives at his waist, though even those looked like they were brand-new and had never been used before.
She had seen thousands like him come and go; the few lucky ones learned early enough that it wasn’t as “glamorous” as they thought and went home within a couple of weeks. On the flip-side, a few actually proved to be suited for the life and moved up the ratings rapidly. As for the majority – some 95% or so of the ones she had seen, at least – the promise of riches was too much of a temptation; as a result, they strived for more-difficult jobs than they were prepared for and usually didn’t survive longer than a few months.
Not that that discouraged anyone; if anything, it only encouraged more to try their luck at dungeon delving for profit. Added to that, there was never a lack of willing recruits since their vast population was slowly growing too much to easily support. Not that she was an expert in the matters, but she once heard from a drunk government official in the capital that the slow attrition of willing delvers was the only thing keeping them from having food riots. He said that the dungeons surrounding most of the population centers encroached on their farmland year after year; which, as a result, reduced the food they could produce to feed the growing population.
And when she took in this young man’s appearance and apparent enthusiasm on his (granted, fairly attractive) face, this potential recruit looked like he was going to join the extensive line of rookie Adventurers not long for the world. Not that it was any of her business; he could throw his life away if he wanted to, though she hated to see such wasted youth and potential.
“Hi! My name is Fredwynk—er…Fred, and I was wondering if you could help me out with something,” the young man – older boy is more likely – asked her hesitantly before she could extricate herself from the situation. She took a few quick glances around the lobby of the DAS building, which had been fairly full when she arrived that morning; it was empty now except for the Syndicate representative behind the counter. Everyone must’ve cleared out earlier after getting their jobs – I guess I wa
s daydreaming longer than I had thought.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going and start this job before it gets too late in the day,” she responded, before adding with a nervous chuckle, “no rest for the wicked…or so I’ve heard them say.” Why did I say that?
While it was true that she needed to get going on the job if she wanted to complete it a couple of times before the day was done, the real reason she tried to blow him off was because she didn’t want to help him. That would inevitably lead to getting to know him, knowing him would lead to caring what happened to him (even in a distant way), and when she ended up hearing about his death – like she expected she would – then she would always wonder if there was something that she could’ve done to prevent it. She was done caring about people like that…at least so soon after…
But the man didn’t seem to care about what she thought, as he pleaded with her. “Please, it’ll only take a moment of your time, I swear. And I can give you some silver pieces if you help me out here.”
Now that caught her interest; she needed the funds the job would give her, but if she could earn that (or more) in less than half that time – she would take it and ignore the consequences to her psyche later. As long as he didn’t want her help to do something illegal, illicit, or dangerous of course. She decided to see what he needed help with first; if it didn’t suit her, she’d still have plenty of time to get the job done that she was already planning on doing.
“Ok, you have my attention, but you better make it fast – I don’t have all day. What is it you need help with?”
Dungeon World: A Dungeon Core Experience Page 11