For the average man, the concept of free will is the grandest illusion. Yet, this misconception is dwarfed by the more profound and enveloping deception experienced by those touched by Mana. Forces whose natural state is one of indefinite paradox.
Those blessed, or perhaps cursed, by Mana operate under the belief that their choices are their own. However, their actions are manipulated by Mana, a pattern as old as the universe. This deception is so deeply ingrained within the fabric of their souls that they never think to question its reality as they are slowly molded into something other. What remnants of free will they might possess are slowly traded for new invisible shackles on their souls.
This is the reason for their madness as they progress down their ‘path’.
But there is a force even more constraining than this. The notice of the gods. Once their gaze is upon you, and their voice reaches your ears, you are irrevocably transformed into a mere extension of their divine will.
Gone now is the illusion and all pretext that man’s choices are his own.
- Attributed to the Wrack Witch before her execution circa 245 AC.
The Adventurer’s Guild was not what I expected it to be. A walled and sprawling edifice of clashing Western and Eastern architectural styles, it was a fortress in miniature. A blue and white tiled mosaic of the Guild’s symbol, a sword crossed over a burning torch, was displayed proudly above a large arch that opened the compound to the busy public. Through this, I could see a large squat keep, past a courtyard of graveled stone. The keep seemed to be more a hodgepodge collection of cut yellow stone than a proper construction. Behind this crude construction, a wooden pagoda with golden tiles rose elegantly upwards toward the sky.
A small group of three, of what I assumed to be adventurers, stood just outside the threshold and seemed to be having a heated discussion.
“That is the last time I’m doing a job in the sewers, this is not what I signed up for,” moaned a rather vexed diminutive woman, hands on her hips. Freckled and pale in complexion, her face was stained with the color of emotion. “If I wanted to trudge through muck, I would have stayed at the farm! Heavens, even though I spent half a day washing I can still smell it!”
Garbed in dull gray robes and a wide broad-brimmed hat, she had a long wooden staff, festooned with fetishes and gems. A magic user, if I were to make a guess.
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“Don’t be like that. I told you before, Tally, and for the umpteenth time, we need to do jobs like these to get some success under our belt. Look right, we knock out a few more easy jobs, talk to Aylin, then we do better stuff once we get the Bronze. You know how things is…” replied a middle-aged and dejected-looking man, his voice frayed with annoyance born from a long-time association. His stained rust-splotched coat-of-plate and notched weaponry gave him a decidedly disheveled appearance. In stark contrast, he wore a necklace featuring a large red gem. A ruby, at my best guess, that hung prominently at his front. Although roughly cut, the gem was clearly valuable, showcased on a fine chain of untarnished silver. It seemed wasted on him, like fine jewels on a pig, and for a moment, the temptation to rip it from his neck was almost overwhelming.
A tall man, whipcord thin, suggested in a reedy voice, “I’m with Tally on this one, Gers, I’d rather ride out a bit into the Wastes than mess about in the sewers. It’s that time of year, right? They say the Alchemist in the basement always wants those horns and offers good money for ‘em.”
“Hiring mounts’ll cost us a pretty penny. More trouble than it’s worth, hunting those three-eyed freaks. Finding ‘em is also half the problem. Can’t read the sands like I can the forests of home. Remember Del and his crew? They went out like yesterday, came back empty-handed, the lot of ‘em. I say keep things steady, keep things slow. It ain’t the best job, but it's safe, if not a little dirty,” explained Gers, sighing as he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders.
“Tell me, where is the man who promised me the good and easy life in the City of Gold, eh? Tell me…” shrilled the one called Tally, in complaint.
“Not for that promise did you follow Gers, Tally…” started the tall, thin man.
"Excuse me," I chose to interject, flashing my most convincing, fabricated smile. "Is this the Adventurer's Guild?"
"What tipped you off? The massive, glaring crossed sword and torch?" the small woman retorted, directing her annoyance squarely at me.
"Tally..." Gers cautioned, rubbing at a spot behind his neck.
Ignoring the woman, I decided to instead focus on the mercenary pauper. “The name is Gilgamesh, a fellow adventurer. If you would be so kind, could you tell me where I can find the job board? I am still new to this city…”
Taking off a beaten spangenhelm that had seen better days, he addressed me. “Pleasure to meetcha. Names Gersal. Over there in that building is where you can find the copper and bronze rank jobs,” explained Gersal, pointing at the squat yellow keep. “I don’t think you are of the Iron or Silver, but just’n case, the Tower of Triumph is where you can find the higher-ranked requests. Bloody self-aggrandizing name if you ask me though…” he added, pointing at the Pagoda.
Gersal looked like he was about to say something else, but he was beaten to it by the other member of the group. “What happened to you? Looks like you got in a fight with a pack of animals. I thought we had it bad with sewer work… bloody giant rats…” the tall one commented.
“Indeed. I had a run-in with a few violent animals, the bipedal sort. Anyway, thank you for answering my questions. It is most appreciated,” I said grinning. Giving them all a small formal bow, I moved off. Behind me, Zariyah hurriedly mimicked my actions and chased after me.