Suffice to say, Folos wasn’t as nearly as busy as Lor-Vold was as they strolled through the lower street level. Although Evie had stated that the lower levels were only meant for gateways to get to the higher tiers of the towers that housed the shops, apartments, and other businesses. There was also a tower meant strictly for Adventurers, which held the guild. Unfortunately, they had to steer clear of that at all costs for the time being, since they were unsure how Aldrin would get in unhindered. The protection enchantments would immediately flag him as a threat, thus alerting all Adventurers in the current vicinity.
Still, the marvel of how the High Elves seamlessly blended their buildings into the rocky hills intrigued Aldrin. He had suspected that the few Dwarves he saw on their way to various points of the domed shaped buildings caused this. He surmised the way the Dwarves were connected to the Earth and the way the Elves sang to nature to shape what they made were in perfect harmony here. There was still a lot to the world that Aldrin had yet been privy to explore.
“When we arrive at Master Waesmenor, I will do the talking,” Evie said, bringing everyone’s attention together. Jared partially listened since he was busy trying to navigate the warhorses around people lest they get a little hungry and try to snack on some poor fellow.
“He specializes in utility enchantments and specialty gear. He is an old friend of my father from when he used to go on adventures so he can be trusted,” she said.
“Then that is when we will take our leave,” Eddock announced. “Adventuring and Dungeon Delving isn’t something my brother and I have ever had any luck with. So we will meet back up with one of our cousins that do business here to carry us the rest of the way home,” he finished.
“What does your cousin or cousins do business in?” Aldrin asked.
Eddock and Cannor shared a quick glance before Eddock shrugged his shoulders, “Simple trading in textiles.”
“Like materials or crafts?” Aldrin asked.
“A bit of both,” Eddock answered.
“So if you ever need anything, just look for a shop or a warehouse called Blue Worthington,” Eddock gave a small smile.
Evie pondered the name for a bit. “I can’t say that I have ever heard of it.”
“We deal with select individuals, the motto says somewhere in there,” Cannor sheepishly replied.
For the rest of the short ride, the group had descended into idle chatter to pass the time. Once Evie had looked out the window of the carriage, she had asked Jared to pull to a stop next to one of the busier spiral towers. Stepping out, Aldrin did not dare threaten to take a breath as the tantalizing scents would overwhelm him. The Elves’ blood often smelled of dessert pies, Humans of different grilled meats, and Dwarves of hearty stews. Realizing he subconsciously categorized what different blood of the Races smelled like; he would need to get a journal to write down the various scents each gave off in order to better understand where his taste lay. Still, he was glad that the streets weren’t packed, although he had yet to see the upper levels of the city in order to fully grasp the situation. Moving from that train of thought, he heard Jared and Evie talk about where to put the warhorses and carriage.
“I need you both to be on your best behavior for the time being,” Aldrin told the warhorses, patting them along their flanks. They snorted and growled their displeasure at being told to behave. “I’ll try to come see you and bring you any meat for you to try,” he bribed them, which they flicked their ears to and sent contentment over their bond.
Looking around, Aldrin saw that there were no guards or anything patrolling the streets, which he viewed as strange. There was nothing that sent off alarm bells to him, but he chalked it up to the city being considerably safe.
“Cannor and I will stay with the warhorses until you guys get back,” Eddock offered.
Aldrin nodded to them in thanks before setting off with Pierre, Jared, and Evie, who led the way into the tower. Inside was bigger than what he expected. There were crowds of people using enchanted large flat stones to move from level to level with levitation. Along the walls, slanted ramps shaped along the spiral tower for the people who had carts or didn’t want to wait for the stone platforms to come back. Vendors in alcoves along the ramp were shouting and trying to get people's attention to buy their products. Oval-shaped windows big enough for decent sized birds to fly in and out of dotted upwards in intervals helped let the light in and keep the haziness from the food stalls cooking ventilate the smoke. Large glowing crystal clusters bobbed up and down every other level that garnered light for the rest of the tower that the windows couldn’t produce.
All of this had reminded Aldrin of what an anthill might look like on the inside. Inside, he could see guards that were patrolling up and down the spiral tower. “Is every tower like this?” Jared asked in amazement.
“More or less,” Evie giggled as she continued to lead them towards the ramp. “Master Waesmenor’s shop is on the 17th level of the tower.”
“How many levels are there for each tower?” Aldrin asked.
She stopped for a second to think, “I want to say around 40 to 50 levels.” She tapped her chin in thought.
Jared’s shoulders slumped. “My legs,” he groaned.
Evie laughed again. “Don’t worry, we all won’t be walking. We will take the lifts.” She pointed to a queue of people waiting for a platform, making Jared perk back up.
“And then we will snake back down to get our supplies,” she finished.
All of them walked up to the waiting line, taking in the scene, while Evie looked at each of them with a smile. She was used to being around people who already understood the world. For her to be around people who have yet to experience all the world in its entirety was a breath of fresh air.
Reaching the front of the line, they all stepped up onto the platform, eagerness to meet the enchanter and acquire gear for themselves could not be contained. Slowly, the platform began its ascent through the levels. It would stop on each floor, letting people on and off before coming to a stop at the tenth, to which Evie told them they would need to take another to get to Floor 17. Each floor was as diverse as the one beneath it. Shops and restaurants filled each floor, each shop was usually catering to at least a few people that meandered inside. Aldrin saw one that held books and wondered if perhaps that he could learn something about Vampires and the Wars but a part of him knew that it wouldn’t be that easy otherwise everyone would have known. However, knowing how Elves were, with their love for knowledge and history because of their long lifespans, there might be something.
Evie cleared her throat. “The higher we go, the better shops there are. But Master Waesmenor prides himself on quality at fair prices.”
“Would he be ok with all of us coming in?” Aldrin asked.
Evie nodded. “He’s a friend of the old ones, don’t worry. And I doubt that he would care. To him you would be something he would be eager to study given his Profession.”
“What do you mean?” Pierre asked.
“Oh, you’ll see,” she beamed.
Evie was right. The higher they went, the higher the quality of the shops became. Aldrin saw groups of Adventurers coming out of weapon and armor shops with new gear. He saw the excitement bloom on their faces when they shared what they got from the Dungeon runs. Eagerness bloomed in his chest, knowing soon that would be him and his group fawning over their new weapons and armor. Upon reaching the 15th floor, however, supply shops for Dungeons also started becoming more common.
“How long do Dungeons take?” Jared asked, peering at all the shops that catered to dungeon divers.
“Depends on the rank of the dungeon,” Aldrin answered.
“Rank 1 can range from a few hours to two days, depending on your pace. Rank 2 is a minimum of a day and a half. Any higher, we are looking at weeks for Tier 3, then months and maybe sometimes years for Tier 4 and above. However, Tier 4 and up dungeons require teams of Adventurers to tackle and are reserved for those of equal rank to the dungeon.” Aldrin said.
“There are cases where wild Dungeons do appear and have to be reported back to the Guild so they can be assessed, but that is rare on this continent nowadays.”
“Folos only goes up to Rank 3 Dungeons and the Guild doesn’t monitor these. They are free since a lot of crafter and merchant Classes usually come in with paid teams to get materials.” Evie added.
“Wait, we have to pay to get into Dungeons?!” Jared bewilderedly asked.
“It depends on the City since it's a way for them to keep it running. If you are part of the Adventurer’s Guild, it usually is free. Luckily Folos is so busy with trades that they can afford to make their Dungeons free.” Evie said as they stepped off on Floor 17.
They chatted along the way, paying no mind to the Adventurers that gave them strange looks when they walked by. Then they came to a stop at a literal hole in the wall that said Waesmenor’s with a blue light illuminating the golden letters above it. There was no door or windows, just a simple black hole in the wall. Aldrin’s senses screamed at him not to enter.
“Is there a sense of dread for any of you?” Aldrin asked each of them, who were all puzzled by his question.
Clarity bloomed upon Evie’s face once she understood, “OH! That! It’s meant to detect any magic that hides someone’s true self. Given your duality as a Vampire you’re probably feeling it but don’t worry! I’ll go in first and explain, and then I’ll come get you.” She said as she stepped through the inky black hole.
The three of them stood around out front, taking in the sights of the portion of Folos. “I wonder what the upper city is going to look like,” Jared said as he looked upwards at the other floors.
Pierre shrugged while Aldrin let his mind wonder the exact same. “He’s ready for you!” Evie said, half of her body sticking out from the door, then disappeared behind it.
One by one they each stepped through the door, the feeling of wrongness seeping into their bones as pitch blackness blinded them. They moved forward slowly at first until there was a pop and they were spat out into a multilevel library of sorts. Aldrin peered around, seeing Imps fluttering about, carrying supplies to little cubby holes. Screeching and chittering echoed further in the shop when an Imp bigger than the rest fluttered to them. It was wearing a necktie, rings on each of its four long gnarled fingers, and ankle bracelets that looked like they would fall off any minute from the way they dangled. Pitch black eyes assessed each of them before landing on Aldrin. Its gaze widened in surprise for a moment before it bowed with a toothy grin marring its red scales.
“News that Kilinos had enacted the ritual was true after all. Isn’t that right, Master Aldrin?” It grinned wider, tilting his head forward.
Aldrin’s undead heart seized at the name. Fangs and claws bared, he roared, launching himself at the imp that scuttled back in surprise. Its small wings flapped furiously to escape the reaching grasp of Aldrin. Pierre and Jared lunged themselves after Aldrin in an attempt to restrain him but were swatted away. Alarmed screeches blared as the Imps from their cubby holes began to fly into the air, creating a humming buzz as they gathered in a circle above everyone.
The buzzing gave Aldrin pause as he looked up to see the swarm of imps whipping themselves up into a frenzy. Obscene curses were thrown at Aldrin in their guttural demonic language. Waesmenor remembered himself before he floated to be eye level with Aldrin from a safe distance.
“I meant no disrespect, but should you take another step towards me and Kilinos will have to wait another century to find a new Progenitor of Vampires.” Waesmenor threatened with a sick smile showing all of his needle-like teeth.
Evie observed the exchange as she was helping Pierre and Jared off the ground. Aldrin lowly growled at the imp, his red eyes promising pain. “Aldrin,” Evie whispered, carefully stepping forward.
Aldrin whipped around, growling at her. Surprise briefly flickered across her face before her resolve firmed as she took another step forward with her hands outreached like trying to calm an animal. “It’s ok, he is a friend. I promise.” She gently cooed.
Pierre nodded to Jared, who carefully and slowly pulled out his bow as they both watched Evie attempt to calm Aldrin down, who eyed them each with a predatory hunger. Waesmenor gleefully cackled behind them, “My, my, my, to hear it through the whispers of the Planes is one thing, but to see it in the flesh is a different entirety altogether.”
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Aldrin’s eyes flicked back and forth from all the threats of the room before regaining control of himself. “I’m sorry,” he said to his friends, his Vampiric features slowly receding.
Jared and Pierre waved him off while Evie relaxed her shoulders, letting out a huff of breath. Aldrin turned back to Waesmenor, offering the same apology to which the bloated imp cackled again. He called off the frenzied imp swarm in their guttural language, making them disperse back to what they were doing.
Waesmenor clasped his long gnarled fingers behind him, “Now that introductions are out of the way, I am Waesmenor. This is my humble abode to which our Giantess princess has taken you to,” he gestured all around him. “I know my appearance as a Demon might be off-putting, as most of my kind likes to dabble in chaos and carnage, but there are few of us that can elevate ourselves from our baser instincts, which mine happens to be knowledge and creation.”
“I guess good and bad is just a manner of perception to some,” Jared whispered.
“Correct, my young fleshy friend,” Waesmenor commented, grinning widely.
Waesmenor turned and flapped his tiny wings rapidly until he got to a blackened stone desk, plopping down with a thump behind it. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“We need a few things,” Evie answered. “Specifically, new gear for a dungeon run and enchantments for a carriage.”
Waesmenor eyed each other, appraising them as they felt small pricks wash over them when his gaze landed on them. “I think I may have items that will be suited for you,” he cackled once he finished Inspecting them.
A shrill screech escaped his wide mouth that made the other imps buzz in a flurry of motion as they flitted around the shop to different cubby holes. They dropped items in front of them all on top of the desk to which Waesmenor began sorting them into piles for the group.
“First up, the budding Archer.” He gestured for Jared to step forward. He placed a blackened bow lined with silver and a faded dark brown empty beat up quiver.
Bow of the Fallen
Slot: Weapon
Tier: 3
Required Stat: Dexterity - 26; Strength - 16
Lore: Looted from a wayward Captain that had to slay the ghosts of his fallen comrades before killing himself in shame for their deaths. A part of his soul that is filled with regret remained with the bow, imbuing it with the power it has now.
Enchantment Slot 1: Spectral Arrow
Effect: Every 3rd shot, a spectral arrow will be automatically nocked and cannot miss.
Quiver of Tricks
Slot: Shoulders
Tier: 3
Required Stats: Dexterity - 23; Intelligence - 20
Lore: A wizard got fed up with his friend’s lack of diversity so he made him a gift to compensate.
Enchantment Slot 1: Specialty Arrows
Effect: Imbue a small amount of Magic into the quiver to change the arrows to one of three elements: Ice, Fire, Lightning
Jared’s eyes went wide briefly before realizing he wouldn’t be able to use them. He opened his mouth to protest but Waesmenor held up his gnarled long hand, “You can grow into them but you won’t be able to use their enchantments until you reach the required stat to which I am sure you will if you plan on dungeon diving for the time being yes?” He shrewdly smiled. “Take them for a favor at a later date.”
Jared flicked his eyes back and forth between the items and the Imp that was enticing him. “What’s the favor?” He tried to sound contemplative, but his greed was winning.
“Take them and find out at a later date as you all will owe me if you decide to take the items presented to you,” Waesmenor’s smile deepened.
“In our world, deals with demons do not end up being the best of ideas,” Pierre piped up.
“Well, you’re not in your world, are you? You are in mine,” Waesmenor fired back, smiling shrewdly. “So take it or leave it.” He rushed Jared, shooing him away.
Jared grumbled to himself, knowing enchanted items were hard to come by until later levels or from finishing higher tier dungeons. He picked them up and swapped them with his current bow and quiver. “I still need to buy some arrows to go with it,” Jared said.
“One of my imps will take care of you,” Waesmenor whistled and an imp zipped in front of Jared, jabbering and gesturing for him to follow it. Jared looked at the others nervously before heading off with the Imp.
“Next, my Princess of the Mountain Giants,” He smiled at Evie, who bounded up without a care in the world. He placed a silver necklace that had dark gray beads at equal points. Inside those beads, upon a closer look, swirls of wind danced within them. He then placed a tattered purple book that was burnt around the edges of the cover. A lavender gem sat in the middle, acting as a lock as gilded chains wrapped around it, with the gem being the center of it.
“Since you are the only Tier 4 among the group, I figured these would be good for you,” He gestured to them.
Amulet of Shifting Winds
Charges: 4/4
Recharge once a day.
Slot: Neck
Tier: 4
Required Stats: Intelligence - 44; Wisdom - 37
Lore: A small trinket taken during the sacking of the Temple of Davos. Their monks were once considered the greatest anti-mage combatants until the secrets of their items were discovered.
Enchantment Slot 1: Breath of Magic
Effect: Boost spells with the latent magic in the air
Enchantment Slot 2: Disruption
Effect: May interrupt a spell cast
Grimoire of a Hex-Witch of Haven-Yew
Slot: Off-Hand
Tier: 3
Required Stats: Wisdom - 30; Intelligence - 22
Lore: Given to the successful witches and warlocks of the Haven-Yew Coven that pass their trials, unfortunately, one of their “supposed” own stole this and their knowledge, destroying the coven in their thirst for power. Now, grimoires such as these have been scattered throughout the lands.
Enchantment Slot 1: Inscribe
Effect: Once a day, inscribe a person or object with one of your spells
“How did you get these… knowing exactly what would help us?” Evie asked once she Inspected her items.
“Oh please,” Waesmenor chortled. “It's in the air if you know how to listen. Especially for something monumental on the horizon.” He quickly glanced at Aldrin, who watched him intently.
“Now for our dashing Rogue,” he turned his gaze to Pierre. He presented a black wispy cape that seemed to fade into the background, fraying at its edges. Then he fished out a pair of dark blue velvet boots with a gold buckle on the top of the foot.
Cloak of the Forgotten
Slot: Back
Tier: 3
Required Stats: Dexterity- 25; Constitution - 21
Lore: It’s not uncanny for a thief to wish to be the greatest there ever was. It also doesn’t help when said thief had a knack for magical enchantments. That was the case for Brun Brunner IV who despoiled his family’s legacy in exchange for pilfering anything and everything without anyone remembering who he was.
Enchantment Slot 1: Fleeting Memory
Effect: The user may become a blurred form once a day in front of enemies, thus rendering the user removed from memories in the process
Boots of Obscurity
Slot: Feet
Tier: 3
Required Stat: Dexterity - 31
Lore: There were once two lovers who met in secret twice a week under the guise of night. Of course, one had a strict curfew whose mother with sensitive hearing often fell asleep in the living room. With a bit of wishful thinking and help from one of their Adventurer friends, these boots were painstakingly fashioned.
Enchantment Slot 1: Cat Steps
Effect: Any noise the user makes is nullified completely unless deduced by magical means
Without fuss, Pierre took them and stood next to Evie, who watched on with interest as to the items Aldrin would receive.
“Lastly, for the upcoming dark lord, a gift from Kilinos,” Waesmenor grinned wickedly. “Consider these an investment.” He pushed forward a dark steel, dull bastard broadsword that was chipped and scratched. A pulse of magic faintly pulsed from it that made Aldrin's enhanced senses pick it up. Waesmenor then placed an obsidian circlet with a blackened gem at the center of it next to the broadsword.
The Ebony Blade, Sin-Screamer, the Etcher of the Void
Growth Weapon
Current Tier: 0
Enchantment Slots 0
Lore: This bastard broadsword is known for imitating the screams of the souls that are trapped in the blade when it is swung. It made a name for itself once it was given to The Condemned Progenitor’s daughter, the Progenitor of Unholy, as she wielded the blade during the Wars.
Circlet of Authority
Slot: Head
Tier: 3
Required Stat: Charisma - 37
Lore: Crafted by a vain and insecure Elven prince, the circlet allowed him to bend those who opposed him to his will. Fortunately, the Elven people rose as one to storm his palace, drag him out, then cast him out to sea to drown.
Enchantment Slot 1: Command
Effect: Usable on one person or creature, command them to your side until they are dead. Must be equal to or lower than your current Class Tier in order to work.
Warning!
Do you wish to bind the Artefact Weapon: The Ebony Blade, Sin-Screamer, the Etcher of the Void?
Aldrin immediately recoiled at the gifts, making Waesmenor cackle in unbridled glee. “Take them. They are gifts from your patron, after all.”
Aldrin hissed in response, baring his fangs at Waesmenor that only incited more cackling. “You surprised me the first time, but you will not do so again in my shop, Juvenile. You aren’t strong enough to threaten me yet.”
“Take them or don’t, but it will be your doom without them. We want you to survive the upcoming events as it has been foretold.” Waesmenor informed.
“But a favor will still be owed? I cannot imagine what kind of favor will be needed if I take these. . .” Aldrin murmured to himself, ignoring the ominous meaning behind his words.
Waesmenor patiently waited for the internal conflict to resolve itself as it danced across Aldrin’s features. He licked his lips, feeling the palpable choice that was going to rear its ugly head and indebt the Vampire to him. The chaos and carnage that he would ensue if he left with the weapon alone. It almost felt wrong to him, but Kilinos had given him strict instructions not to sway the young man in any direction. He had merely just given him a tidbit about what would happen if he didn’t take them. There wasn’t a doubt in Waesmenor’s mind that Aldrin had others looking for him already, since he could not have been the only one to sense the awakening of a Progenitor.
Unaware of what the imp was thinking, Aldrin heavily debated with himself before accepting the weapon and whatever favor that would come with it. He was already too far deep with indirectly destroying a city, so adding a cursed weapon to his name as well wouldn’t be so bad.
Congratulations! You have been gifted an Artefact Weapon!
Artefact Weapons are those whose names and deeds have been made into legends. Although they start off at Tier 0 once bequeathed to another or have been given up; they have the potential to gain their former power and glory back. All it takes is a few sacrifices and the power to bend the world to your will is yours. Take heed for each Tier unlocks a new ability and a little more history of previous owners. Shape your legend as others have done before you.
Waesmenor wetly cackled in absolute madness when he sensed the shift in power as the weapon bounded itself to Aldrin. “I wonder what unique ability it will acquire when it reaches Tier 6 in the hands of the Vampire Progenitor!”
He almost popped his existence on the plane with the rush of excitement that ran through him when Aldrin accepted the items. “Yes, yes! Excellent! You have made the right choice!” he excitedly clapped his hands, flapping up off his seated position to float in front of Aldrin, who still looked conflicted.
“Your arsenal will only grow as you grow in power!” Waesmenor said to each of them. “Do not shy away from anything given to you for each has a purpose here or later. With that business done, your carriage will be seen to! Now begone all of you!” He clapped his hands.
The four of them reappeared outside, varying emotions crested each of their faces as they each held a slip of paper that read, “We shall meet again new friends.”
“Well, he was eccentric,” Jared grumbled, earning nods of agreement from everyone except Aldrin, who stared at the note and the large two-handed sword he now owned.
Pierre placed a hand on Aldrin’s shoulder, snapping him back to reality. “We can go test them out in the dungeons, I guess?”
“Yeah. . . sure,” Aldrin half heartedly agreed as he walked away with the others following him. He looked back at where the entrance to the shop would be only to be met with an empty space.
“His shop is only found when it needs to be found. We needed it and now we don’t. We will find it again when the time is right,” Evie caught his gaze when she looked back at it too.
“I’m beginning to dislike the Demons that have an interest in me,” Aldrin said, earning a nervous chuckle from Jared.