Chapter 15

Ignis, his brow furrowed in contemplation, delicately plucks a small, iridescent mushroom from a cluster of glowing green fungi. The ethereal light cast an otherworldly glow on his face as he examined the specimen with rapt attention.

"For the love of all that is holy, DON'T EAT THAT!" Grok exclaimed, her voice booming like thunder. "That infernal fungus will make your legs explode! Or worse, it could leave you crippled." With a swift, practiced motion, she slapped the mushroom out of Ignis' grasp, the delicate stem snapping with a sickening crunch. "What is it with you humans and your insatiable desire to consume every bizarre object you encounter?"

Flint, erupted in a boisterous laugh, "You know, I blame Evolon for that. It all started with her enlightening us about... well, let's just say she has a way with words."

Evolon, her face flushed with indignation, retorted, "How was I to know that the Orcs had such… unconventional methods of family planning?"

Pierce, interjected, "Well, calling not being a raging, bloodthirsty killing machine 'defective' is certainly… subjective. But we mustn't judge their culture. They are, after all, like a primitive, magical version of the Klingons, and Grok here… well, she's our very own Warf!"

The group, their conversation punctuated by the rhythmic thudding of boots on the forest floor, resumed their hurried trek through the stone hallways.

"What is Warf? Is it strong?" Grok inquired, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Warf," Ignis replied, taking a deep breath as they navigated the labyrinthine underground corridors, "once single-handedly dispatched a dozen enemies to protect his captain. A true warrior."

Grok, enthralled by this tale, pounded her chest with a resounding thud, declaring, "I like this Warf! I yearn to face him on the field of battle, to test my strength against his!"

Suddenly, Gustavo announced, "We are here, Donner Party. Master Pierce, I believe this location would serve admirably as your enchanting workshop. Observe these weapon racks – a veritable arsenal awaits your touch. And fear not, I shall assist you, for I possess a certain… affinity for the arcane arts." With a flourish, he gestured towards a previously concealed chamber, revealing a well-appointed space complete with bunks, a generous supply of rations and water, and a staggering array of weapon racks and armor stands.

Turning to Pierce, Gustavo inquired, "If I may venture a guess, you are a newcomer to the Cadium system?" He gestured towards the empty weapon racks, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"You may assume that, and why did you call me Master?" Pierce inquired, approaching the armor stands with a discerning eye. They resembled department store mannequins, stark and eerily lifelike.

"While I do not claim a life debt," Gustavo declared, his voice firm, "you have performed magic upon me that has irrevocably altered the balance of our relationship. Orcish culture, in which I was raised, simply does not condone such an imbalance. I must strive to restore equilibrium as swiftly as possible. Gustavo cannot be indebted to another." His chest puffed out with a sense of pride.

Pierce raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Just a moment ago you were attempting to haggle us with outrageously low prices, and now you offer your unwavering assistance? It all seems a bit… fishy."

A wry smile played across Gustavo's feline features. "All is fair in commerce," he conceded, "but healing the seemingly unhealable, as you did for me, without any expectation of recompense? Such a generous act simply cannot go unacknowledged. I must assist you, lest your… shall we say, 'unique' perspective lead you to make disastrous choices, choices that could leave you imprisoned within a box for eternity, endlessly healing at the whim of your captors."

"So, power and kindness make me crazy. I'm about to get all Klinger on these guys," Pierce laughed.

Evolon tilted her head, a puzzled expression on her face. "Didn't he date a Kardashian?"

Ignis, corrected her, "No, he was a renowned basketball player, a forward for the legendary 1991 Chicago Bulls!"

Flint, offered a different perspective. "He was actually Gene Roddenberry's neighbor, and the writer used him as the inspiration for the Klingons."

Pierce chuckled. "No, no, no. I'm talking about Klinger, from MASH, you know, the crazy healer? I assume none of your grandfathers forced you to endure endless marathons of MASH reruns every Memorial Day, instilling in you a profound respect for his wartime service… He would tap on the metal plate in his head whenever they announced incoming artillery fire."

Grok, her eyes widening with interest, exclaimed, "So, mental instability does not appear to be a hereditary trait in your family, I see. I would be honored to meet this grandfather of yours, to challenge him to a test of strength!"

"YOU ARE NOT HAVING SEX WITH MY GRANDFATHER!!! You might actually grind his pelvis into dust at this point!" Pierce shouted at the Orc, his voice echoing through the chamber.

He then lowered his voice, addressing Gustavo, "Okay, how exactly does this work? I have a vague idea, but I'd rather not inadvertently cause a catastrophic explosion in this room."

Gustavo raised an eyebrow. "You have an inventory skill, correct? Have you ever attempted to equip another person from your inventory, or perhaps… disrobe them? "

Pierce stared at him, bewildered. "You can do that? "

"Certainly, but only if they themselves do not possess Cadium. This is precisely why those blessed with the holy stone stand head and shoulders above the common folk. Even the most powerful non-Cadium user can be rendered utterly defenseless, stripped bare by a single individual possessing the sacred stone."

Gustavo demonstrated, summoning a vibrant ball gown and a fearsome halberd from his own inventory. The gown materialized upon the armor dummy, while the halberd materialized perfectly balanced within the weapon rack. With a flourish, he then returned both items to his inventory. "Try summoning the armor by touching the dummy, visualizing it appearing upon the dummy instead of yourself. The same principle applies to the weapon racks. Touch the rack and summon the weapon, but instead of appearing in your hand, imagine it resting securely within the rack."

After several frustrating attempts, during which the leather breastplate repeatedly landed beside the dummy or appeared inexplicably upside down, Pierce finally grasped the intricacies of the process. He began summoning some of the more heavily damaged armor and weapons..

"I will practice on the most damaged items first, then gradually work my way towards the best," Pierce proposed, seeking Gustavo's approval.

"Acceptable," Gustavo confirmed. "Now, you currently possess only the most basic enchanting skills. The initial enchantments are largely random, but as your skill level increases, you will gain greater control, allowing you to create more powerful and intricate enchantments. Most ordinary, non-magical items can only withstand a single enchantment before succumbing to the sheer force of the magic. However, well-crafted magical weapons and armor possess the capacity to hold multiple enchantments, and when applied strategically, these enchantments can transform even the most insignificant warrior into an unstoppable force."

Pierce reached out and touched the first leather breastplate, which still bore the scars of battle: two arrow holes in its back and a deep slash marring its surface. He channeled his mana, the familiar yellow light emanating from his chest, coursing down his arm, and finally converging upon the armor.

Upon completion of the enchantment, Pierce meticulously inspected the armor, reciting its enhanced stats aloud, "Crude Leather Breastplate: Armor 518 (5+211), +304 Strength, Condition: Bad."

Gustavo's fur fluffed up dramatically, making him appear much larger than his actual size. His tail formed a strange, question-mark shape in the air, and his eyes widened in a look of sheer terror before rolling back into his head. He then proceeded to faint dramatically onto the ground.

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"I guess the slimy car salesman doesn't like it when you LS swap a Miata," Flint chuckled, his attention focused on the small forge and bellows he was currently operating.

Ignis, perplexed, inquired, "What does that mean?"

Evolon, expertly wielding a hunting knife to whittle a sapling into a crude bow, explained, "LS refers to the legendary Chevy Corvette engine, which can be easily modified to fit into a wide variety of vehicles. You essentially transplant this incredibly powerful engine into a lightweight car like a Miata, transforming it into a veritable Mario Kart."

Pierce, observing his friends diligently begin to level up their new professions, couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Why are we even doing all this? We need to remember that this isn't some fantasy role-playing game like Dungeons & Dragons. This is real life. Why not simply return home and kick up your feet and watch TV until this all blows over?"

"You know, each and every one of us has been waiting for this day all our lives," Flint declared, a sense of exhilaration in his voice. "All those years of tabletop role-playing, all that meticulous teamwork, it's finally paying off. Evolon, with her uncanny accuracy, pinpoints the target. Ignis sets one ablaze, freezes another. I stand tall, wielding my hammer and shield, and you, Pierce, your healing magic is a beacon of light in the midst of chaos. We've rehearsed this countless times, honed our skills, perfected our roles. This time, however, we're not simply role-playing; we're living it. This magical stone, Cadium, grants us the strength, the endurance, the pain tolerance to excel in this new reality. I can only imagine the struggles faced by those without Cadium. As a wise man once said, 'With great power…'"

Flint's proclamation was abruptly interrupted by a chorus of groans from his companions.

Grok finished the quote with a triumphant grin, "With great power, you can more easily crush your enemies!"

"I know we all indulge in our fantasies," Pierce began, his voice serious, "but let's be clear, this isn't a tabletop game. This is reality. If any of you, at any point, feel overwhelmed, feel the need to step back, I will not judge you. This isn't some television show where you're constantly on the run, perpetually chasing some grand, apocalyptic threat. We've already achieved a great deal. This is bonus time, a chance to exact some measure of revenge for their invasion.

"While you're all reveling in your newfound magical abilities, I want you to pause, to reflect. Ask yourselves, 'Why am I doing this?' Is the risk truly worth the reward? We're facing adversaries of unimaginable power, beings who could crush us like mere grapes. And unlike in a game, there are no do-overs, no 're-rolling your character' and showing up for the next session. Death is final." Pierce met the gaze of each of his friends, his words heavy with the weight of reality.

Grok offered a glimmer of hope, "Until you get the Resurrection spell, of course."

Ignis, his brow furrowed in contemplation, exclaimed, "WTF! I'm starting to think Gygax was an interplanetary traveler, created D&D, making a fortune by selling stories based on his own experiences back home!"

"Pierce, we're all in this for our own reasons," Evolon explained, her voice calm and steady. "I'm an adrenaline junkie, seeking the thrill of the fight. Flint, well, he just wants to smash things and prove his manhood, despite his… diminutive stature. Ignis just wants to shout FIREBALL as things explode"

Flint bristled, "I am not short! My family simply has a gluten allergy!"

Ignis, ever the stickler for detail, interjected, "It's FireBLAST, not FIREBALL!"

Pierce, seemingly unfazed by their bickering, continued his work, enchanting armor sets and weapons one after another. The process, initially a novelty, quickly became routine, almost mindless. He barely registered the expenditure of mana, the enchantments flowing effortlessly from his fingertips.

Suddenly, a notification echoed in his mind: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 2!"

He paused, searching for any noticeable changes, but found none. The process remained as effortless as before, the mana consumption slightly reduced, but otherwise, there was no discernible difference.

He continued his work, a steady rhythm developing as he enchanted over a dozen armor sets and twenty weapons. Then, another notification chimed: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 5! New Enchantment added to pool!"

"Pierce, read the new enchantment aloud," Gustavo urged.

Pierce scanned the new enchantment description, then read it aloud, "Enchant an item or weapon to also include a second random stat or damage type up to your Base Cadium."

"Nice, bro!" Ignis exclaimed. "You have all these amazing materials to work with, and I'm over here making weird dishes out of protein bars, Red Bull, and beef jerky. Anyone want to try my first batch?"

Grok, however, seemed intrigued. "I will try your Bull Shit," she declared, her tone devoid of any irony.

"We’ll give it a few more levels…," he mumbled, discreetly returning the meatball-looking concoction to his inventory.

Pierce, oblivious to their exchange, continued his enchanting spree, meticulously placing each enchanted item back into his inventory. He even created separate inventory tabs – "Healer," "Tank," "Ranged DPS," "Caster" – to efficiently arm and disarm his allies as needed.

Approximately ten minutes later, another notification chimed: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 10! New Enchantment added to pool."

Pierce eagerly read the new enchantment: "Enchant an item or weapon with up to your Base Cadium,a second stat up to your base Cadium, You can then also choose a utility enchantment to add to the item."

"So you can have over 1,000 in a stat, armor, or damage. That seems a little overpowered…," Flint remarked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Not if you remember that most individuals possess only a single Cadium, and even the most powerful among them rarely exceed twenty," Grok explained. "They would be content with armor boasting an armor rating of sixty, while the Donner Party can now craft armor with a rating of fifteen hundred. We will become gods, forging armor coveted by all. Even the most rudimentary paper armor crafted by our hands would surpass the finest creations of the most esteemed masters. Though, I fear, this newfound power may inadvertently sow the seeds of greater chaos."

"I have an idea," Pierce interjected, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We use Gustavo here as our exclusive merchant. The Donner Party will act as couriers, delivering these exceptional creations from our masters to the merchant." He paused, then posed the question, "What should we call this esteemed collective of Master Smith, Cook, Fletcher/Bowyer, and Enchanter?"

"The Collective," Flint suggested, his voice gruff.

"The Sith," Evolon offered, with a mischievous grin.

"The Celestial Artisans," Ignis proposed, his voice filled with a sense of grandeur.

"Ooohhh, I like that one," Pierce declared, "The Celestial Artisans." His friends nodded in agreement, acknowledging the elegance of the name.

"When the merchant wakes up, we need you four to get tattoos," Grok declared.

"Umm, I'll jump out of a perfectly good airplane, but I don't do needles, and I definitely don't like permanent marks on my skin," Evolon declared, her focus intently on adding feathers to an arrow.

"These tattoos are invisible to anyone without Magic Sight," Grok explained. "They will grant you the ability to understand any language you hear and, after hearing a brief sample, speak most known languages fluently. The only reason you can currently communicate with Gustavo is because he possesses a similar tattoo."

"How big are we talking?" Flint inquired, flexing his bicep. "Full sleeve?"

"The size of your fingernail," Grok clarified. "And they must be placed near the ear." She then poured a vibrant purple liquid into a small bottle, sealing it with a cork stopper.

"Do they have magical tattoos for other things?" Ignis asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Most are battle-related," Grok began, "but there are a few that might pique your interest. One, for example, is designed to increase the size of ones…"

Grok's explanation was abruptly interrupted by Gustavo, who awoke with a startled shout.

"MONSTER! I must know how much Cadium you have, Master Pierce?!" Gustavo exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as he remained sprawled on the floor.

"Well, we need to discuss that," Pierce began, a thoughtful expression on his face. "We intend to utilize you as our sole merchant. To maintain our anonymity, you must inform your clientele that these exceptional items are crafted by 'The Celestial Artisans,' while we will act as their couriers."

"Of course," Gustavo agreed, his greed momentarily overshadowing his fear. "If it were known that you possessed over a hundred Cadium, you would be relentlessly hunted. Powerful individuals, lieutenants of planetary leaders, even beings of far greater influence, would stop at nothing to acquire your Cadium, to distribute it amongst their armies. Such an event would undoubtedly disrupt the delicate balance of the Council, potentially triggering centuries of devastating conflict. However, the potential profits… they are truly staggering."

"Who knew the Ferengi would actually be cats?" Evolon chuckled.

"Who runs the banks? Dragons?" Flint inquired.

"How… how did you know?" Grok and Gustavo simultaneously exclaimed, their voices filled with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension.

"Gustavo," Pierce interjected, "we require communication tattoos. Could you arrange for us to acquire them, and what would be the cost?"

"I will spread word about an auction," Gustavo announced, a sly grin spreading across his feline features. "Three armor sets, each with unique stat values, and three weapons, each imbued with a different damage type. You should be swimming in gold within a week. Of course, I will have the tattoo artist arrive shortly. However, I must warn you, refrain from commenting on her appearance. She is quite sensitive about her… unique fashion choices."

As Gustavo spoke, he produced a small, shimmering rock and began to communicate with it in a language that only Grok seemed to comprehend.