Chapter Three Hundred and Nine - Weedbane the Dandelion Slayer

I always loved opening presents. It never happened too often, which made every event where I did get a gift that much more special.

Technically, the boxes that Caprica had sent over weren’t presents--they lacked the always-fun wrapping paper--but I decided to count it as one anyway.

The box tagged Broccoli Bunch was as long as I was tall (not counting my ears) but quite thin, made of some sort of wood covered in leather bound in place with big knobby brass studs. It was quite long, longer than any of the other boxes by a good bit.

My tail was twitching with nervous energy, and my cheeks were starting to hurt.

“Well, are you going to open it today, or are you just going to stare at the box?” Amaryllis asked.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I admitted. "On the one hand, opening the box means I get the present. On the other, leaving it closed means I get to anticipate the present, and sometimes that’s even more fun.”

“You... you absolute moron,” Amaryllis muttered. “Come on, open it up or I will.”

“No! You can’t! Opening a present is a sacred moment,” I said. Dropping to my knees in front of the box, I undid the two clasps holding it shut, then pulled the top open.

What waited for me within was a long wooden staff with a curve near its middle and a small handle poking out mid-shaft. At the end was a curved blade tucked along the side of the shaft, long and narrow and super thin, made of something that almost glowed. It was fixed to the end of the staff by a rather complicated looking swivel mechanism, with some sort of lock on it.

“A scythe?” Awen asked.

“Huh,” I said. Reaching down, I grabbed the scythe by the middle and lifted it up. The blade clunked down and something went ‘snick’ as it locked into place. “With an unfolding blade. Not what I expected.”

“It’s a gardening tool,” Amaryllis said. “Or farming, I suppose. Magical too.”

Magical? I used Insight on the scythe.

Weedbane, Ancient

“Whoa,” I said.

I noticed Amaryllis crouching down next to the box for a moment, and when she stood, she had a small note in hand. “A bit of history on your new toy,” she said.

“Oh?” I asked. I looked around for a place to put the scythe, then handed it to Awen when she reached for it. “I want to see.”

Amaryllis handed me the note.

Dear Broccoli,

This old thing has been sitting in storage for an eternity. I believe it was gifted to a gardener who worked at the old palace, but no one has claimed it since. It should be enchanted with a few dozen old utility spells. May it serve you well in your quest to rid the world of a new sort of weed.

--Caprica

The writing was hasty, but still very pretty. “So, it’s old, huh.”

“That's good. Older items tend to interact better with their own enchantments,” Amaryllis said.

“The mechanism here’s not too complicated. See, it’s just a bolt that unfolds and locks the blade in place, with a little leaf-spring to keep the bolt from unlatching. You just need to press in... here.” Awen’s face went red as she pressed hard on a little stub with her thumb. Something eventually clicked, and she was able to refold the scythe’s blace. “Easy.”

“Cool,” I said as I took Weedbane back. “How do I even use this? There’s a handle here, and I guess you hold this part?”

This was going to be a great improvised weapon, if the level of improvisation was equivalent to how hard it was to use as a weapon. Maybe if I planned to exclusively fight people by hitting their ankles. Or if I was fighting really short enemies.

I gave the scythe an experimental swing, then held back. It was the sort of thing that would require a lot of space to move around in, and we weren’t in a very spacious room.

“Watch it with that thing,” Amaryllis said. “I bet the edge is magically sharpened.”

“Oh, right,” I said a bit sheepishly. “I should put it away for now, at least until we arrive at the dungeon.”

Putting actions to words, I fiddled with the catch--it really was hard to press in--and then folded Weedbane back into its case.

“Alright. Awen, you have a present left right?”

Awen nodded. She closed the box with her new crossbow in it, then set the second box she got atop it. This one was narrower and a bit shorter, about the length of my arm from shoulder to fingertip.

She undid the clasps on the box, then flicked it open. Within, resting in some cloth padding, was a warhammer. It was boxy, with a long square-handled hilt and a head that wasn’t any rounder.

“That’s a sylph hammer if I’ve ever seen one,” Amaryllis said.

I leaned forwards and used Insight on it too.

Sylph Heavy Infantry Hammer, New

Awen pulled it out of the box and spun it this way and that. “I can’t see anything too special about it,” she admitted. “It looks almost like it was drop forged.”

“If it’s a plain old standard arm, then the only enchantments on it will be to prevent rusting and maybe to lighten the weapon. Both the sylph and harpy are keen on having lighter tools,” Amaryllis said.

“Wouldn’t that defeat the point of it being a hammer?” Awen asked. She gave the hammer a couple of experimental swings, then nodded. “It feels nice. My other hammer’s handle is a bit bigger. I think it was made for a man’s hand, and mine are small. This is nicer.”

“Neat,” I said. “Should we pack everything up and head back out? I want to ask the Knight-Captain about the dungeon before we reach it.”

We found Knight-Captain Covenseeker in the airship’s smoking space still, the gentlemanly old knight chatting up a few of the generals. He brightened when we approached. I hoped that no one noticed the aura of Cleaning magic around me getting rid of all the smoke.

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“Ladies, Captain, how can I assist?” he asked.

“We were hoping to see the map of the dungeon,” I said. “And maybe you can tell us a bit about it too?”

“Certainly,” he said. “Rumour has it that all three of you are part of the Exploration Guild?”

“Yup,” I said. Technically Awen hadn’t signed on, actually. We needed to get that rectified at some point. I was certain the local guildmaster wouldn’t mind adding her to the rolls. “We’ve dived our share of dungeons before. This will be my... uh sixth, I think.”

“Impressive,” he said with a nod. The other generals nodded as well. There was much pipe and cigar waving for a moment. “The Long Rest Dungeon might not prove so difficult a challenge then.” With a gesture to the side, he presented us with the dungeon map.

Six floors, each one taking up a square on the large map, with some arrows and lines showing where the floors connected to each other, and little notations pointing out facts about the dungeon.

“The Long Rest is a relatively young dungeon, five floors, each connecting back to a central room.” He tapped what I had thought was the first floor. “This room here. Every time you complete a floor, you return to this room, and when you re-exit the room back into the dungeon, you’ll be on the next floor down.”

“Does it move?” I asked.

“The dungeon? No, I don’t believe so. It might well be some magical effect. Teleportation, perhaps. Though it is seamless. A portal, maybe. We had some academics study the passageways some time ago, but nothing came of it.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“What’s the dungeon’s theme?” Amaryllis asked. “Beyond sleep, I mean.”

Knight Captain Covenseeker hummed. “Difficult to say, exactly. Or rather, difficult to sum up in a single word. I believe the dungeon’s main theme centres around lullabies. Perhaps dreams?”

“Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun,” I said. “And it gives you a knight class?”

“It does! Nightie Knight. We’re quite fortunate that the name is respectable.”

“Respectable?” I asked.

One of the generals chuckled. “The poor Knights of the Dark Burst.”

“Why? What’s so poor about them?” Awen asked.

“The class given by their dungeon is the Flatulent Boomer class. Deadly, yes, but perhaps not a name worthy of polite company,” the Knight Captain said.

I held back a giggle with great effort. “Yup, that’s... yeah. Nightie Knight sounds much cuter.”

“What kind of threat are we talking about here?” Amaryllis asked. “A five-floor dungeon won’t be without risks.”

Covenseeker nodded. “Indeed. But you won’t need to worry about any of that. We’ll have some of the very best down there with us. And I’ve gone through the dungeon a dozen times already. Nothing will harm a hair on our heads, I promise it on my honour.”

The generals all nodded and made a big show of making it look like what he was saying was very impressive.

“If you say so,” I said.

“You just need to worry about showing us how to get rid of those nasty roots that settled in. Quite the pest, I hear.”

“Have you tried to deal with them?” I asked.

“We sent a few younger knights down to deal with them, but they came back banged up and bruised and claiming that there was nothing to be done. Silly young boys that don’t know better. We’ll show them how it's done.”

“Right,” I said.

I glanced at my friends who both seemed equally worried. Being confident was great and all, but sometimes the Evil Roots turned a dungeon weird, and that might mean that previous experience in the dungeon wasn’t worth as much.

“Well, thank you, Knight Captain Covenseeker. I’m sure we’ll all feel very safe down in the dungeon. Do you know how long it will take to get there?”

“Another half hour, winds willing,” he said. “Our little fort isn’t all that far from the capital. That way if an emergency arises, we’ll be some of the first on the scene.”

I felt like that last part was directed to the others more than it was to us. Was he going to use this trip as a way to make the Knights of the Long Rest look better? That wasn’t terribly kind.

“We’ll go rest for a bit then,” I said. “Maybe get our stretching done before we have to walk all over the dungeon.”

“Of course, of course,” he said.

My friends and I excused ourselves to the far end of the room where we found some seats next to one of the only portholes on this level of the ship.

“They’re clueless,” Amaryllis said. “Or they’re downplaying the threat posed by an Evil Root.”

“How long do you think the root has been there?” I asked.

She frowned. “They sent people in. Which means they knew about it. Call it one day to learn about it, a day to send someone in, another to return to the capital and ask for assistance, then today. So that the very least four days have passed. That’s a strict minimum. I’m going to assume that the root has been active for much longer.”

“That might be troublesome,” I said.

Awen nodded. “We’re going to have to be careful. Plus, we’ll be going in with a lot of people.”

“Won’t that make it easier?” I asked.

“These won’t be expert adventurer buns taking things very seriously,” Amaryllis said. “Half of the people we’ll be with will be there because they’re an expert of some sort or another, not a fighter. We might have to carry a lot of dead weight.”

“Oh,” I said

This whole expedition was starting to feel like a bit of a bad idea.

“We’re just going to have to do our best, I guess,” I said. “Make sure everyone that goes in comes out in tip-top shape, and wipe out the root while we’re at it. Maybe they’ll take the threat of the roots more seriously too?”

“We can only hope.”

***