(Dog Days: With Su and Fredrica)
The days raced ever faster towards fall’s inevitable reign. With each passing cycle, the gang’s base grew in stature. In lieu of nothing insane going on, everyone settled into a routine.
Today was Fredrica’s turn to reacclimate their newly leased on life friend on the ins and outs of dungeon diving.
Especially after that abysmal first dive of theirs...
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Three figures hike in the moonlight of the second floor, two high on confidence and one steeped in years of anxiety.
Easily forgotten when pushed to the extreme, not so much in everyday life. But this is all forthcoming.
In the shaded forests of the dungeon’s second floor, the trio encountered a pair of bogey beasts.
Under the moon’s scrutiny, their immaterial forms traced solidly on the ground. A tidbit of wisdom from those who’ve treaded further ahead.
Expertly dealt with by the two well versed in combating these creatures of the night. Sushila was a mess the whole way through. Her attacks shaky and mobility frantic it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.
So, the two took it upon themselves to ‘whip Sushila into shape’ much to everyone’s worry. Which leads to today’s fripperies.
Confronted with an origami wolf half the size of her, Su stumbles, sidestepping its lunge with professional efficiency and prey-like frenzy. “Come on, Su! Don’t forget to stab it in the back!” Fredrica cheered on, waving a little flag with ‘Let’s go Su’ stitched on it, followed by a small cartoon Su standing victorious.
A few tries later, the pale specter of death found her mark. Gouging into the paper wolf’s neck with a machete-like cleaver while thrusting into its eye with the other. Instincts kicking in, she twisted her body, decapitating the poor beast.
All with the poise of a schoolgirl who just saw a bug.
Stifling out a sigh, Fredrica knew she had some work ahead of her.
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(In for a Penny, in for a Pound: With Nick, Antonia, and Tsukiko)
After the insane debacle that was the Felschonheit sprint, Nickolas was glad for the dose of normalcy.
Wake up, eat, work, sleep. Simple life, happy life...
If only he wasn’t in his current predicament. Stuck between the troublesome two bickering his ears off while facing down a hurricane vomiting roided up man-wolf.
He had woken up late this fine morning, only to find a lone sheet of paper on the bulletin board that survived the morning rush. Along with two others glaring up at that very same request.
And, of course. Those two happened to be Antonia and Tsukiko, each having arrived late due to personal reasons.
It also didn’t help that the request was a juicy one. Gather bricks from the three pig’s event, one of many prizes up for offer after beating the event’s boss, which someone had identified as Guardian.
They stared each other down like starving beasts, hungering for the adventurer’s ambrosia that is a request. Until a brave A.A receptionist bonked them over the head and lectured them into working together.
So here they were. Hid behind Antonia’s fortress defining shield, waiting for the man-wolf to run out of breath.
“Now!” The boy cried. Popping out from behind the towering shield, shooting an arrow. All the while, Tsukiko played support from behind cover, chanting sutra.
The arrow flew true, increasing in intensity as it was channeled with mana. Finding its target, the mote of light left a gaping hole where it silently struck the man-wolf’s throat. Dissipating into the aether due to the magical strain. Fed back into the dungeon as most spells tended to do.
Another slash from Antonia sent the story boss’s dangling head loose.
“Whew, that should be the last run today.” Nickolas used a tree as support, waiting for Antonia to receive another helping of bricks.
Countless runs had helped them get the Guardian boss fight down to almost an exact science, ignoring their disastrous start. Though the arguments never got any lighter.
A jab from Antonia, a rebuke from Tsukiko and Nickolas helplessly stuck in between trying to mediate the two.
But they were well versed in the art of combat if nothing else. It was almost comical how well they worked together, contrary to their venomous bites.
And so the trio used a make-shift sled to transport almost a house’s worth of bricks outside. Course, this was a tall order, warranting many of the on-duty A.A staff members to hurriedly bail them out. But even with money spent towards that, there was enough earned to go around. Maybe even enough for them to tolerate working together again.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
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(A Book in Due Time: With Curator)
Back in the dungeon saddle, troops ready and Alice happy. The first thing the dungeon core did was get to writing.
The tale was still fresh on their mind, but they knew making the book itself would take time.
And would follow an unusual process, they concluded after examining the Little Red Riding Hood storybook. Its make was different but almost familiar.
Formed of a voracious Dp, materialized and compacted into form. They found themselves musing that Smith might be their next call-up, but that’s neither here nor there.
Currently, Curator was working on the actual writing. Which was inscribing words using DP. And the Catalyst? One of the copies they had of the three little pigs.
People had been quick on the draw after seeing Zhenya receive an item for returning a book. But the core never thought they would get this religious about it!
Entire groups were doing dedicated runs to obtain more books. While others formed conspiracy spanning cork-boards on how to obtain new literature.
Unnerving observing the things people will try, but reassuring at the same time. Each day brought at least one more book to grace their paltry library.
It warmed the dungeon’s core seeing parents using those very same books as material to teach their children how to read.
Resuming their craft. Mind a pen and Dp the ink, it wasn’t hard beginning the process. Only that writing in such a manner required a delicate touch, a skill that the core had only begun to hone. Turning the act of simple chirography into a nightmare.
Some strokes too thick, some too weak, while others not even strong enough to stick on paper.
“It’ll be some long nights till I find my stride... Hope Smith can help with this.” The cries of a young core, unaware that miles away they were heard... Or felt via some hyperactive blacksmith’s sister senses.
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(The Aka-Su-ic Records: With Sushila)
Once again, in a cornucopic dream. A young girl traverses her mind’s archaic caverns. Memories buried in dust were now proudly displayed on exhibit.
Nothing new nor groundbreaking was found, simply more of the same. Strengthening ‘that man’s’ connection to the Dutchy.
Deeper she ventured, past memories of espionage and intrigue. Until her curiosity landed on a pile of rust obscuring a memory. All of which she found little significance in. Except for a ‘her’ that ‘that man’ uttered in respect during one of his report sessions.
An entirely coincidental slip as he did not expect her presence. Having slipped his mind in all the planning and web-spinning.
It was a start, perhaps a false start but one nonetheless. Only time could tell.
Sealed deeper in the recesses of her mind was a gate, far more secure than the rotting hunks of steel that held memories of ‘that man’. Restricting access to memories of the ‘operations’ the Elder Council had sent her on. Unblemished by time, it would take time to undo these bindings.
One she didn’t want to deal with today. The past, she’s been living there long enough it was time to live in the present.
Also, she had a meeting with Fredrica in a short bit. The sea revenant just hoped the knight was reasonable and wouldn’t throw her to the wolves on the first day.
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(Trails: With Virgil)
It had been days since his meeting with Zhenya and gang. And perhaps by coincidence, the inn they had shown him made for a perfect meeting point for his operations. Clear of the usual traffic, but with enough comings and goings that a face can get lost in the crowd.
Today however, Virgil had gathered up all his operatives for a meeting. “Today’s the day.” He started, keeping his voice to a subtle rumble. “We finally have Bargas in our sights.”
The team had managed to track the man down to a cave near Felschonheit. Not as obvious it may have seemed, considering Bargas’s gift for growing flora.
This infiltration would have to be fast, hard, but most importantly, thorough. That man could slip out a number of ways.
That is why for this operation, they’ve enlisted help from the local A.A branch. Mostly to encircle the area and act as a net. But otherwise, as a safety measure, in case Bargas’s forces prove too much to handle.
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Putting plans into motion. The small army assaulted the forested cave. With most doing their job as net, while Virgil took a small elite group with him.
Not through Bargas’s death forest. No, that would be tantamount to suicide. The man could hold himself in a brawl, but point defense was where he excelled.
Instead, the group of five found themselves in the realm of shadows, more precisely Virgil’s realm. One few have seen, and even fewer had the balls to traverse, and only a single hand’s worth could say they found a way back.
This unfeeling plane where all senses dulled, one could see the colorful shape of mana in the wild instead of the pure haze seen commonly in dungeons.
His companions gathered around him like children, hands tugging at various places as he guided them. Swearing they had seen shadowy figures just beyond their purview.
If it was any other place, this plan would be ludicrous. As proclaimed by the silver-haired man himself. But considering this is a forest created by Bargas using mana, the colorful substance ran through each tree, flower, and blade of grass.
Appearing on the other side, in front of the cave entrance. A collective sigh was expelled, happy to be out into the normal world.
That was the difficult part as they would learn. The cave was lousy with grunts, but none posed a threat. At the end of it was their prize, Bargas.
The fight didn’t last long, and they managed to apprehend him, though the lack of Sabastian and Kheru was unsettling.
‘Something is brewing. This can’t be it.’ Was the collective thought. But they had their man. Even if he wasn’t going to say jack, it’ll at least pull some public trust back to the A.A.
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(The power of a story: With ???)
The scratch of a moving brick beckoned him. And as always, he met it. Lifting up his armored hand to retrieve the letter.
Reading the contents, a smile cracked on his lips. “Finally!” He chuckled. After so many ups and downs, his plans had finally borne fruit!
Public trust in the A.A lowered, both the Dutchy and the Kingdom were, at least, in passable states to declare war again. And now Bargas delivered him his ‘weapon’. It was time.
Standing, almost bumping his head on the ceiling, the chains that bound him quickly decayed. The armor that served as his prison within a prison could wait till later.
One of the cell guards turns towards the noise, only to be knocked out by their partner. Soon enough, the cell doors ceremoniously opened to a damp dungeon to which the armored prisoner bid adieu.
It was time for people to learn the truth of the monsters their government harbors. It was time to start a war so that it could finally be put to rest. It was time for revolution.