As it turned out, Mitch discovered that he could remove the Shadowshroud, but it would kill the creature. The knowledge had been transmitted directly into his mind, a low, rumbling growl of warning that translated to understanding from the Shadowshroud during his cold shower that morning.
Rather than clinging to him like a second skin, the Shadowshroud had shuddered from the water. It coiled itself up his back and shifted from the spray, as if terrified of being cleansed. Now, it rested against his body, reshaping itself into a form that resembled a simple black shirt, but with a subtle, living presence. Mitch felt it waiting and watching.
Mitch adjusted the soul sword strapped across his back. It was a heavy presence that people steered clear of as he weaved through the heart of Shadowreach. The conversation with Robin lingered, offering him a place to stay in the attic whenever he wanted in exchange for small relics he might uncover. It was yet another rare gesture of kindness in this brutal city.
Why does he want a few relics so badly? Are they really that valuable?
The city center buzzed with activity. Vendors shouted their cheap wares, and the occasional crier preached about the Abyss’s growing threat. Cultists gathered at the edges, hooded faces chanting praises to unknown powers. Grimmers huddled in available corners, swapping stolen goods for Grimlace and eyeing the crowds for more rooks to rob. Mitch moved past them as they glowered at his presence.
It’s like they all know. Is it the Grimlace letting them know of the souls?
Hoping none of them were Collectors, Mitch moved swiftly past, his muscles tense beneath the Shadowshroud. He wasn’t looking for a fight, especially not here in front of the crowd. His gaze swept over the street, and he realized just how much more he was able to see now. A result of his new body. It felt strange–unnerving, even–to stand taller than everyone.
Shadowy figures knelt at the entrances of churches, their low chants reverberating off the black stone, feeding the permanent darkness that clung to the city. His attention flicked to the towering spires clawing at the starlit sky. Many of the buildings leaned precariously, their metal finishes trembling in the cold wind. Even with his new perspective, the architecture felt suffocating, as if the stone and metal sought to close in on the crowds.
He approached Crae’s Agency, one of the few places in Shadowreach reputed for its ‘nobility’. Mitch’s memories told him that most of the city’s citizens saw them as the best bulwark against the ever reaching Abyss. For years, they had beaten back underground hordes at the Front and protected the Depths and Shadowreach's inhabitants. This created a universal respect for the Agency throughout the city. It also resulted in unimaginable prosperity for its most successful members and Crae himself.
The building Crae’s had built in the city square stood like a fortress, stone walls reinforced with wrought iron bands. Black roof tiles gleamed under the floating candles from above, and it had already been claimed by a flock of crows, waiting for the next meal to fall. In a city like Shadowreach, Crae’s left their front door wide open. A quiet, unmistakable display of power.
Above the birds, stone gargoyles shifted, their cold, disdainful eyes tracking Mitch. Wings of soot stained granite twitched, talons scraping against the roof tiles as they watched him approach.
Entering the grand archway, Mitch felt a sense of relief wash over him. The hall exuded both wealth and violence.
Finally, surrounded by people who despise the Abyss as much as I do. No lurking threats, no Collectors. Just fighters.
The air inside was thick with the scent of steel, sweat, and the faint undercurrent of burning incense. It stretched out longer than he expected, lined with polished red marble that shined beneath the torchlight. Tapestries depicting gruesome battles against Abyssal monstrosities hung heavy on the walls.
Dozens of people moved about the hall. Elves, orcs, humans, gnomes, all walked purposefully. Their voices were low, conversations murmured beneath the constant clink of armor and weaponry. Eyes tracked him as he walked past. The ceiling arched high overhead, giving the space a cavernous feel.
Mitch caught sight of an elf spinning a glowing scythe with effortless precision. Nearby, a gnome launched black spikes from her hand into a wooden dummy, the wood sizzling and melting under her attack. Strong spirits hung in the air, overpowering the underlying stench of dried blood. His heart quickened at the sight of the casually powerful army around him, their presence a chorus of strength. It felt like stepping into the very heart of violence and command.
If there was a place to be in Shadowreach, this is it. You are extremely strong. You’re no longer a skinny snot.
Urgar spotted him first, hobbling up on short legs and grinning wickedly through his black beard. “Ah, if it isn’t the newest tough guy!” he boomed, pounding the metal plate he wore with a fist. Grizzled veterans from the nearby tables paused their conversations to size Mitch up. He felt their weighing stares as they took in his height and obvious muscles.
Mitch gave Urgar a nod, a grin creeping onto his face. “Glad to see I made an impression,” he replied, matching Urgar’s energy with a firm clasp on the dwarf’s shoulder. He took a step forward, feeling the eyes of the other members staring into him, measuring his mettle before he’d spoken a word.
It was strange, still. He knew this body was formidable, but it still felt like wearing armor that didn’t quite fit. He wasn’t just accepting the role of a warrior; he was forcing it. Wearing his body as a mask. But here, among warriors at least, it didn’t feel as much of an act. Maybe, just maybe, this place would make it real.
Act the part to be the part.
“Looks like a good crew,” Mitch said, letting his gaze drift across the hall. He kept his voice steady, even though the sheer presence of so many hardened fighters had him on edge. His muscles felt tight, not from exertion but from trying to project an air of calm confidence. Most of the real heavy-hitters must have skipped the party last night “Thanks for having me, but…figure I’ll fit right in,” he added, though to his ears, it sounded rehearsed.
“You’d better,” a voice rumbled nearby. Turning, Mitch saw Warrick, bruised and bandaged, but thankfully grinning. The giant green orc lumbered over and extended a hand. “Can’t say I minded that beating you gave me. Means you’ve got some fight in you. Good to have you. And that nasty thing.” Warrick added with a nod toward the swirling black t-shirt Mitch wore. The Shadowshroud clung to him like it was waiting, its presence always a whisper in the back of his mind.
Mitch shook his hand, trying to ignore the wave of discomfort. “Didn’t expect you to be so friendly, after last night.”
Barely survived yesterday, and now I’m pretending to be one of them.
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He didn’t feel like a fighter. He was just wearing the part. But here, among people who were born into violence, he had no choice but to act the part.
The orc shrugged, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. “Only fools hold grudges that aren’t worth holding. Besides,” he added with a glint in his eye, “you’re on our squad, and there’s always the next round.”
Warrick clapped him on the shoulder, and led him further into the hall. “Come on. Sable’s waiting. You’ve passed your first trial by making it through the front door, but there’s plenty left to prove if you want to walk with Crae’s.”
Crossing the giant hall, Mitch noticed more of the ritualistic details that hinted at the agency’s reputation. Members sat sharpening weapons with expressions that spoke of long brutal night work. A hulking half-giant at a corner table was wiping blood off a massive war axe, while a trio of humans pointed at a battered map, plotting.
Sable waited at the far end of the hall, leaning casually against a stone pillar. The same appraising look measured Mitch. “Good to see you made it,” she said in her gravely voice from her stitched together throat. “Crae’s been expecting you. Let’s move.”
Mitch’s sharp eyes caught the tension in the way her fingers tapped against her leg. He’d seen that before, though not often from someone as steady as her. She looked calm, almost indifferent to him, but something about her posture gave her away–too controlled, too deliberate.
She’s nervous. Just like me, in a way. She’s wearing the mask of cold control, I’m wearing the mask of an overzealous newbie. Doing a better job than I am of it.
She turned, and led them up a spiraled wrought iron staircase. The air grew warmer, and the hall’s noise faded to a distant hum.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she didn’t respond. Mitch caught the briefest glance, a flick of her stitched together throat, before she focused on the stairs.
Sable arrived at a heavy iron door and turned to face him. The door was reinforced with Abyssal bones carved with intricate symbols. Mitch felt a subtle vibration from the bones, as if they were testing him. After a moment, they seemed to accept him, their tension easing in silent acknowledgement.
Can they all feel that? Creepy.
“Stay sharp.” She said, giving him a small smirk that left him open-mouthed, and pushed open the door.
Ok, she is pretty. Don’t be weird, Mitch.
The room was both grand, and stark. Black candles floated around the ceiling, casting shadows over the shelved walls holding all manner of relics. A rich red carpet stretched back to a carved desk.
Behind the desk, a figure rose from his chair. He was a full orc, imposing and broad-shouldered, taller than even Mitch with a thick, powerful bulk. Gray patches mottled his green skin, and obviously dyed blond hair hung over his face, shrouding piercing black eyes. Crae didn’t bother with armor. Instead, he wore a simple black coat that emphasized the layers of fat covering his muscles.
“Welcome,” Crae said, his voice surprisingly smooth and high pitched. “You’re the one that put Warrick in his place.” Warrick grunted, and Crae’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, revealing golden teeth around his chipped left tusk. “Impressive.”
Mitch inclined his head, heart hammering. “Just did what I had to. Figured it’d be a quick way to get noticed. Not many chances here in Shadowreach.”
Yeah, just a local kid who needs a chance. He’ll like that.
Crae’s eyes shifted to Sable, his tone softening. “I’ve brought you up through this, Sable. Trained you. Now’s your time to show me what you can do with a squad of your own. If you do well…you know what I’ve promised you,”
Her jaw tightened. “You’ll get results.” Her voice was steady, but Mitch noticed the pressure she felt.
“I’d better,” Crae replied, voice laden with expectation. He let the moment hang in the air before turning back to Mitch.
Crae met Mitch’s eyes, holding his gaze. “You’ve certainly made us notice your potential. But strength alone isn’t enough for our line of work. We’re not just here to fight. We’re here to beat the Abyss back. And to make a hell of a living doing it.”
He stepped around the desk. “You’re new here, so I’ll give you a bit of advice. The Agency isn’t just a place for the strong. It’s a place for the smart. You can’t just muscle your way through everything.” He stopped in front of Mitch, crossing his arms. “If you want to walk with us, you’ll need to prove that you can handle more than just a fight. We always deliver, no matter the cost.”
Mitch held his gaze, feeling an edged respect and wariness for Crae. This was a man who had seen the true depths and returned. Someone who had learned both ends of the game.
No matter the cost. Driven and intense, but a good ally if I play this right.
“I’m just happy for the opportunity to really fight against the Abyss,” Mitch replied deeply, showing Craw what he wanted to see. “I’m ready to make a difference.”
Crae’s eyes sharpened. “We’ve had our eye on a very particular relic. Its guardian has no mercy, and all of our preliminary teams never returned. It’s said to be a dagger forged from shadows. Apparently, it's tied directly to the deepest pit of the Abyss. Retrieve it, and bring it back here. Don’t worry, your new friends will be joining you.”
Mitch felt a thrill of excitement and dread. “Understood,” he said, feeling the weight of the soul sword at his back, and the many others stashed away inside of him. “We’ll bring it back.”
“That’s bloody right we will. Be the first group in fifty odd years to defeat an Abyssal Tramp. First real outing as a group too!” Urgar’s voice swelled from beside him.
Crae gave a nod of approval, assessing Mitch one final time. “Good. Sable will give you the specifics. You all leave tonight.” He offered his meaty hand, and Mitch shook it. There was unmistakable strength there, and also something odd. Something dark that felt oddly familiar. The Souls recoiled from the man.
Hmmm…What is that? Mitch wondered, his gut twisting with a feeling he couldn’t shake. Or am I just imagining it?
If Crae noticed as well, there was no sign. “Welcome to Crae’s Agency, Mitch,” the half-orc said, releasing his hand and giving him a greasy smile. “I have a feeling you’ll do well here.”
As he left the room with his new squad, Mitch couldn’t shake the sense that Crae was testing him in more than just one way.
A meaty palm smacked his back. “First day and already throwing you into the Abyss,” Warrick teased, winking at him through a swollen eye. “Don’t worry, Urgar and I will make sure you live through it.”
Urgar fell into step beside Mitch. “Good to see ya leading us down there, Sable. Always done right by us–no reason this’ll be different.”
Mitch glanced at Sable, expecting some kind of reassurance. She gave him a cold smile. “Not different, but just us, no big team. They’re not wrong, Mitch. Don’t expect hand-holding, everyone here earns their place, but we’ve got your back if you’ve got ours.” She offered him a flat smile before continuing down.
“Let’s go, we need to plan,” She said over her shoulder. Mitch couldn’t help but admire her figure from behind. Tight black leathers clinging to her athletic form. Looking back at them, a slight panic filled him as her multi-colored eyes almost caught him staring.
Be cool, man.
“We don’t need flashy speeches to do what’s expected,” Sable said, glancing over her shoulder at Mitch and the others. “You’ve all seen what the Abyss can do. It doesn’t wait for us to hesitate.” Her multicolored eyes locked with Mitch’s for a moment, her tone firm but quiet. “So, don’t.”
Quest: Retrieve the Shadow Dagger
Retrieve the Shadow Dagger with aid from your comrades.
Status: Incomplete
Reward: A hint at the location of the Sealed Door