Andy, the African American Rogue, is delivering a report about the other factions in the basement bunker. He’s slimmed down some, and like the other Rogues, wears an all-black outfit, complete with hooded cloak.

“...puts them at an average level of seventeen. Their proximity to so many dungeons provides a distinct advantage over us.

“Since no one, yet, has access to a Village Core, the few level twenty people they have are stuck where they’re at. Which is good for us.”

Everyone nods their heads in silence. If I could hear their brains, I’m sure there’d be the sound of clanking gears. After a few moments, Jennifer clears her throat.

“What are we going to do to get more levels? I've maxed out my XP gains at Cheap and Easy, and all the other dungeons are either too high level or in enemy territory.”

The burly, and heavily armored, Asian Fighter makes a good point. All the combat classers have been run through the two level five dungeons. Mechanic’s Delight, at level ten, is inside the Blood’s territory on the south-west side of town. After killing one of their groups a few months ago, they’re not our biggest fans. Then there’s the level twenty-five Education’s Lament at the Wittenberg University campus, and The Mangler inside the International factory on SR 72. It’s level thirty-five.

Justin, the Paladin, says what’s on everyone’s mind. “We can always do The Grand Carnivale.”

Going for the classic RPG version of a Paladin, Justin is slowly accumulating a full set of plate mail. Leather armor covers what he doesn’t have in metal, so his appearance is mismatched. His scraggly beard only helps to exaggerate his look. I will say, his long, blonde hair more than makes up for the lack of facial hair.

Besides the White Witch’s Playground, our next closest dungeon is The Grand Carnivale at the fairgrounds. Like Education’s Lament, it’s level twenty-five. Much discussion’s been had about sending a team through it, but with such a large level disparity, no one wants to risk it. The level thirty zone across the street doesn’t help with things.

“Come on, there’s no way we can survive that.” Brian, the Barbarian, lets out an exasperated huff. “I’m only level fifteen. I don’t think we should run it until we’re all close to twenty.”

“ please, you’re just being a chickenshit.” Sarah, Cleric and wife to our Artificer, Donnie, gives Brian a dismissive wave. She points at Curtis. “Mister Alchemist here can brew us a bunch of potions to boost our stats. Add in healing potions, and Justin and I’s restorative abilities? We’ll be fine.”

Brian frowns and crosses his arms. Lately, he’s been more and more hesitant to get into combat. Which is weird, because as a Barbarian, he’s one of our highest damage dealers. Granted, he takes a lot of damage himself, which I think is part of the problem. Though System regeneration heals flesh and bone with ease, it doesn’t do hair. More than once, Brian’s impressive dark beard has been ruined. Though it grows back in mere days, it still bothers him to no end.

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Besides the grooming, Brian’s been wearing more and more elaborate clothing and armor. While skin and hair grow back, the cost of repairing/replacing equipment is a constant drain on his Credits. We keep telling him to use less fancy items, but Brian won’t listen. He doesn’t want to not wear his hand tooled, and fur trimmed, leather armor.

“Potions are easy.” Curtis pulls out a few phials from a pocket. “With the upgrades to my workshop, I can make up to Tier VII. Give me a little time and I’ll brew up a little somethin’ to juice you all to the moon and back.”

Everyone gives the Alchemist a sideways look. With too much money, and too much curiosity, Curtis has been…experimenting. The Shop provides recipes for safe, effective concoctions, but those aren’t good enough. Being too smart for his own good, the Alchemist wants better, and making better means making lots and lots of worse. Only through the grace of passive regeneration has no one died. Yet.

What sort of modifications Curtis has made to himself is anyone’s guess. He was once balding and overweight. Now he has long, thick, stark white hair and is getting thinner by the week, and at 6’3” he’s looking scrawny. The weight loss has nothing to do with lack of food, as he eats more than anyone else, by far. What’s extra weird is he hasn’t lost a bit of strength.

I chime in to assuage everyone’s concern. “Curtis, I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say we’ll only use official Shop recipe potions.”

A defeated couple of nods from the Alchemist makes everyone breathe a sigh of relief.

“Man, I wish I could come along with you guys.”

Donnie, like Curtis, is a non-combatant. His Artificer class is incredibly useful around the Settlement. We’ve got tools, replacement parts, and numerous little gadgets that make life easier in countless ways. Any extra funds Donnie made is reinvested into his workshop. Named Donnie’s Garage and Fabrication, it’s a trove of things that spin, clink, and tick.

Unlike Curtis, Donnie’s physical changes came about via labor. He’s constantly fabricating all sorts of gadgets, from clocks, to toys, to larger machinery for Carcosa. Though he’s of average height, Donnie’s built like a dwarf, with massive forearms and a barrel torso. The shaved head and bushy red beard help sell the image.

“Can’t you make yourself crazy weapons and/or armor?” I give Donnie a questioning eyebrow raise. “I’ve seen you make some pretty impressive stuff.”

“Eh? Even if I did, I don’t have the Class Abilities or Talents to be of much use.”

I nod my head. “Fair enough. So, people, anyone have any more comments about running the Carnivale? It’s sounding like that’s our only option at this point.”

“We could run down more Alphas.” Jennifer shrugs. “That’s all I got.”

No one else has a suggestion.

“Ok then, it seems like we have a plan. Curtis, how long before you can brew up boosters and healing potions for everyone?”

“I’ve got plenty of health phials, but the boosters will take at least a week.”

“Then we wait a week. The dungeon can take a team of ten. Without Donnie or Curtis, that leaves us with four slots. Who do we invite?”

“At least Dominick.” Jennifer counts on her fingers. “Maybe Doctave as well? Having two Wizards will be a huge equalizer.”

“Smart. That leaves us two open slots. Who else?”

“I vote for another Cleric. Lewis is level twelve now.”

Andy takes a cue from Sarah. “I say another Rogue. Jamie is competent.”

“Sounds like we have our ten.”