Lord Krieger sighed in frustration as he rubbed the weariness from his eyes after penning yet another diplomatic response. A stack of messages seemed to arrive with every activation of the teleportation array and he was growing almost as sick of the scent of parchment and ink as he was with the offers of “assistance”, lobbying for access and threats, both veiled and otherwise. The mess with a group of beastkin sneaking in during the night had done as much for his growing headache as a hammer to the skull. His military advisors were already unhappy about him granting others access, though any other course would have undoubtedly led to war. Even one of their closest allies in the revolution had immediately volunteered a team to help cleanse the dungeon, and while he suspected it was offered in ignorance of Timberhollow’s plans rather than as a threat, it had him treading carefully. The coups weren’t successful everywhere and if they couldn’t count on their allies… The best he could do was try to make the terms as favourable as possible for the city and hope no one did anything foolish. Anything else foolish at least.
A heavy knock at the door drew a sharp intake of breath from him. Surely it wasn’t already time for another stack of letters. Straightening himself behind his desk he bid them enter. The large muscular half-orc who entered was an unusual sight in the halls of power but Krieger recognised him as an experienced and well-respected member of the guard.
“Pardon milord, but there was a bit of a scuffle down at the dungeon. A group from Four Streams tried ta enter armed with nets and man catchers. We told them they couldn’t go in since it seemed obvious with that gear they were tryin’ ta drag out a creature and cause a break. They got a bit violent but we captured ‘em easy enough, though now they are makin’ threats about how their city won’t take it lying down. Probably hot air but the Cap thought you’d want to know in case they sent an ambassador or something.”
The pain between his eyes seemed to grow with every sentence. It didn’t matter that the attempt had been half baked, one of their trade rivals had tried to cause a damn dungeon break right outside the city. Luke had been right to worry and if his people weren’t so vigilant it would have been a disaster. He needed to think of a new approach and soon.
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Keith wasn’t sure how many days had passed, he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, throbbing with pain despite the soft sheets and tender ministrations. He’d woken up to healers checking on him both when light was streaming through the window beside him and while it was dark. His time here was a blur that he was trying to piece together even as he hoped it wasn’t real. Being told he would be bedridden for a few weeks. His parents telling him that the others had vanished but only Tommy had been reported leaving the dungeon. The clan would have to move on leaving him behind, maybe picking him up again months later when they next visited, though with a dungeon so close who knew if the city would even still be here then. The interviews with the man with all the metal armour and the lady who smelt like a storm had just passed. No wait that last bit had happened first. Uncertainty began to gnaw at him as he considered the future, who was he outside the clan and his family and what could he do here while he healed?
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As he caught a glimpse through the curtains of the blue haired lady who first noticed he’d awoken and who had kept him company a few times since, he considered life might not be so bad here. While it was rather strange other races had so little hair or fur, at least for the spellcasters what little they had was interesting and Keith couldn’t help but be curious what the rest of her body was like under that robe. Heat rose to his cheeks as she spotted him and gave him a wave, deeply glad his own hair hid that response. She was always kind and interested in him when they spoke. He knew she came to the healers because of a man who they were treating, but he found himself hoping he was a relative or something.
Before she could join him, a wrinkled priest stepped into his section of the ward and she hesitated.
“Hello, Keith, isn’t it? I’m Father Kieran. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to give you a chance to see if you have any new class options after your time in the dungeon.”
Despite the man’s kindly demeanour and offer Keith couldn’t help but feel his heart sink as over the man’s shoulder Lydia gave him another wave and turned away. He wanted to deny the man and call after her but that would be rude and the moment had passed. Maybe some of his class options would be interesting enough to talk to her about. It was usually a fairly personal thing, hence why she gave him some space on seeing the priest since the clergy were sometimes relied on for advice and were supposed to keep any such discussions in confidence. Still, he wouldn’t mind getting a little more personal with her.
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Ivy watched as the skeletons slowly advanced, less a march and more a clanking mob as the shield wall they had barely been able to achieve when stationary completely disintegrated. It would seem she had found a limitation of the orc skeletons, at least without significant level investment. While they were smart enough for some basic weapon usage and to wait in position until they became aware of an enemy, coordinating their attacks seemed beyond them. It was disappointing to learn formation tactics were out now that it looked like the fourth floor was likely to be quite large. However, as Ivy glanced towards the ogre skeletons she considered at least the orc skeletons had some concept of object permanence. That had been a nasty discovery about the ogre skeletons though she was happy it had allowed that fox beastkin to escape. Not for the first time Ivy got that heavy feeling in her gut as she wondered should she have argued for the [leadership] boon back when they first started out? Then again given the number of deaths and serious injuries maybe the dungeon had been too dangerous all along?
She wanted a manual or some advice or at least an example but apparently - despite having no idea what she was doing - she was the [guide]. She felt her arm begin to tremble and grabbed it with the other hand. She needed to keep her shit together, with all Evelyn was going through the last thing she needed was to be worrying about her. Ivy steadied herself with a deep breath. They had some time. New people might be entering the dungeon every day but Timberhollow seemed to be limiting them to the first floor for now.