The winds outside roared with a vengeance as the seasonal storm swept over Shallowcoast. The floodwaters swept through the docks, submerging the port underwater. While the roads were turned into temporary sluices though, the ramped paths and design managed to keep most of the water out of the houses.
With the winds blowing debris around like straw, Yvalyn looked out at the storm before she finally spun the circular window shut. She pressed down on the latch, locking the pane in place, before she finally turned back to the rest of the room. “Well, it looks like the structural support is holding up still,” she commented, and sat down at the table. Yvalyn glanced over at the dwarf next to her and asked, “Have you filed the pay bonus form for the team yet, Taryl?”
“Yeah, it should reach the central guild in Abyrn in the next few days,” the wiry bearded bookkeeper confirmed, then shuffled through the papers for other details. As he looked at the details, he ran his fingers through his beard as he commented aloud, “Anyways, if there’s no emergency damages, shall we do the disaster review?” Several groans came up from the comment, but with little left to do in the shelter, the guild members hesitantly sat down for a meeting.
Taryl slid over to let Pithott sit at the front, and the guild leader nodded gratefully before he tapped a ceremonial silver hammer on the tabletop. “Now, I know a good bunch of ya are feelin’ stir crazy, especially after the week of overtime we’ve all been buried under,” he commented, earning chuckles from everyone. With frustration slowly vanishing, Pithott clasped his hands together and suggested, “So, how about we get through this quick-like, and then we can all clock out ‘till the storm passes?”
With the murmurs growing more positive, Pithott tapped the table then looked at the dwarf to his right. “Morta, start us off,” he insisted, then asked, “What’s the mission rec’rds show for the rate of completion?”
Morta started at the question, still nursing a mug of Brunheim Farms ale. Seeing his confusion though, Taryl passed a sheet over to the dwarf. Morta nodded in thanks before he read off the details. “Thankfully, the surge in visitin’ adventurers meant all disaster-related quests were finished in half the suspected time,” he summarized, then tapped the parchment as he added, “In fact, we were able to store away excess supplies a full day before the storm hit.”
Pithott nodded along to the description, then glanced over at Yvalyn. “Speakin’ of, how’s our visitors handlin’ bein’ in the bunkers?” he asked her, “No riotin’ adventurers yet, I hope?”
“Nothing yet, sir,” Yvalyn commented with a shake of the head. She glanced down at her own guild tablet, then added, “Granted, I haven’t heard from any guards in the last few hours, but I doubt there’s been any severe problem.”
Pithott nodded along, and jotted along to the notes before he tapped the tabletop again. “So, we at least got everyone in, but what about recovery supplies?” he asked aloud, and glanced over at a human flipping through his book, “Riktor, could you share the details?”
The man only looked up from his book briefly, only to idly nod along. “Good news is we have plenty of direct repayments, and the food supplies are well-off enough to prevent any need for rationing,” Riktor commented. However, he frowned in contemplation when he added, “However, depending on structural damage, we may need some more lumber to replace any beams and walls.”
A few of the guild workers pursed their lips at the comment, but little protest was actually spoken. While the storms only passed through every few years, the risks for damages were pretty high. However, before the discussion could devolve, a sharp cough came from the corner, and folks turned to look at an orukin clad in hunting gear.
“While the storm damages are bad enough, we gotta deal with another problem,” the hunter stated as he pointed to the north, “After all, if the beasties passing through get aggravated, we’ll have to worry about them going ape-shit in the town.” As he said that, the orukin looked over at Ogir and added, “In fact, didn’t you deal with one earlier, Ogir?”
Ogir sat up when attention turned to him, and fiddled with his jacket. “Right, the giant vampire eel,” he muttered before he tapped the table. The wooden surface flickered, only to showcase a map of the town. He tapped down at the bay, and the map expanded to focus on the designated area. As he pointed to the main northern port, Ogir explained, “On roughly the fourteenth’s hour, adventurers in the bay area had been culling the vampire eels, when they managed to draw an attack from the anomalous vampire eel. It was roughly fifteen yards in length, vastly outside the norm, with skin that was tough enough to rival landsharks.”
A flurry of murmurs arose at the comment, but a sharp rap on the table cut through the noise. “Quiet, quiet!” Pithott barked out, slamming his ceremonial hammer on the wood. When a vivid blow sent a crack down the table, and the room fell quiet at the violent action. The guild leader glared at them all, before he finally let out a slow sigh. “Look, I know that the beast was rather… problematic, but we can’t fight over it,” he commented, then glanced back at Ogir, “Outside of the sheer size though, I’m guessing that it had several other features?”
The oruk guard nodded, then put one of the beast’s fangs on the table. “While the size is fitting to recorded features of deep sea vampire eels, it had several features that seemed abnormal,” he stated, and glanced over his shoulder at a distant room, “The processing guild’s still breaking the beast down, but it could slide on land like a greased snake, splintered its own teeth for a barbed bite, and its hide had high resistance to ranged skills that targeted it.” With his expression turning solemn, Ogir looked around the table before he declared, “With these features, I suspect that the giant vampire eel was a Boss-class beast.”
A series of shocked gasps arose at this, and Pithott leaned forward in concern. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, worry audibly tinting his voice.
“It’s not confirmed, but with the multiple abilities it had, I would say it’s very likely,” the guardsman replied, still toying with the fang.The oruk glanced down at the fang, then set it on the table. Ogir added, “Honestly, it’s a miracle that the new Star Hero managed to lure them out.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Seeing the other guild members perk up, Pithott threaded his hand through his beard before he glanced back over at Yvalyn. “Ah, yes, the new rookie in town,” he murmured, then asked the elven girl, “Given how you interviewed him, what’s your thoughts on the man? Will he be a problem?”
Yvalyn let out a small yelp at the sudden focus on her, and tugged at her collar. “W-well, he thankfully doesn’t have the ego that most starting Star Heroes have,” she commented, mind racing to recall all the details about him, “Said hero, named Troy Ericsen, joined a little under a month ago, and has been mainly working with a Charcoal-rank adventurer. However, he’s thankfully been pretty well-mannered about quests. He’s actually been a stellar adventurer.”
As Yvalyn thought it over some though, she frowned before adding, “Actually, last I checked, he was still a Brick-Rank. How did he even get the quest?”
“Oh, he just signed the guild waiver,” a dwarven employee down the table chimed in, one hand raised in greeting, “He wanted a more active quest to take with the kid he’s with, so he signed the waiver to go on the Porcelain quest. Besides, it wasn’t like he would have a lot of trouble with the eels.” Seeing the glares sent his way, he gulped before he added, “Well, not the smaller ones, at least.”
Yvalyn clicked her tongue at the reminder, but didn’t argue while she pulled out his file. “Anyways, even if he didn’t kill the beast himself, we should talk about his promotion,” she commented. She pulled his mission list out, and began to read it off, “With all the missions he’s been doing, a boss fight like this easily fills the mission gap. In fact, with the features the Vampire Eel had, I know that other Star Heroes got promoted straight to Bronze Rank.”
As she suggested that though, Pithott scowled and leaned forward. “Does he really deserve that, though?” he asked, glancing around the table in concern. When no one bothered arguing, he stated, “Every time I’ve seen a Star Hero, or any adventurer, jump the ranks, the power boosts their ego and cripples their logic. The hero who killed the Northern Blizzard? Entered the regional dungeon, only to be killed on the third floor. The team that slew a Faerealm lord ended up going into debt in a month by overstocking on arcane artifacts. So, should we really give him that much leeway?”
The guild remained silent at the question, before Ogir finally coughed into his hand. “While I can’t say that he’s completely peerless, he’s at least relatively stable for now,” he commented, then waved a hand in Pithott’s direction, “If you don’t wanna trust him with full power, why not just make him a temporary Charcoal rank? It puts him on the same rank as his partner, but if he doesn’t meet the needed criteria…” Ogir shrugged, but didn’t expand further.
Pithott hummed in thought at the suggestion, then slowly nodded. “Yes… That’ll be a safe option,” he eventually relented, then gave a thankful nod to Ogir, “I’ll have the guild fill the form out soon, and we should have the form filed quickly.” As he picked up his hammer again, he glanced over at Yvalyn before he asked, “Speaking of the man, which bunker is he in?”
“Oh, he left before the storm,” the dwarven employee stated. When the group turned to look at him again, he pointed westward and added, “He turned his quest in, got his reward, and booked out before the first rains started. Guess he has a sanctuary skill or something.”
Grumbles rose at his comment, but Pithott simply tapped his hammer on the table. “Well, we can’t do much until he gets back,” he murmured, then glanced around the room. “Anything else that needs immediate attention?” When no one else answered, he set the mallet down and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! In that case, I call this meeting adjourned!” Pithott proclaimed, then hopped off his seat. As the guild split away for the night though, Yvalyn couldn’t help but purse her lips as she thought about why the eel might’ve chosen the bay as its home…
----------------------------------------
“You used my lam’priv? For spite?!” a wiry man hissed, his face hidden under the bony helm he was wearing. Delphi flinched at the comment, and scrambled back to avoid his spear flashing down. “I’ve had her feasting on the bay’s prey for over a decade, growing her brood to fend off the Undertide’s next invasion!” he snarled, digging his spear into the stone, “Why on earth would you-?”
“Enough,” a voice sternly cut in, the mere word forcing the two onto their knees. Delphi gasped at the sudden pressure, and glanced up at the stern patriarch on the throne. Cloaked in the shadows of night, the elderly deity looked over the room with glittering eyes under a crown of stars. The god’s gaze swept over the gods in disappointment, he pulled his presence back and sat back in the seat.
“I do not care about why you selected the beast, for the hunt or for knowledge,” the god stated, his voice thunderous despite his calm tone. His gaze focused back on Delphi, and she balked when his gaze hardened. “So, tell me, maidenlyn, why did you interfere so blatantly with the mortal world?”
Delphi gulped in fear, then coughed into her hand. “W-well, Skyfather, I had been following a hero I’ve been guiding,” she began to say, her voice trembling at the literal tension crackling in the air, “However, the last few weeks, there’s been a rather erratic issue that keeps blocking my scrying like a persistent cloud of smog. His new companion has been able to keep even the divine pools from following them. So, I used Svarog’s whistle to help take care of the problem.”
“By using my lam’priv?” the god of the hunt proclaimed, digging his spear deeper into the stonework.
“Hey, I just went for the closest beast that could take him out!” Delphi sputtered, waving her hands in the air, “You really think I intended to pick your monster on purpose, Hurne?”
The god of the wild let out a feral growl that made Delphi’s hair stiffen, only for a new wave of force to flood the room. “Enough with your needless whining,” the Skyfather boomed, then glanced back at Delphi. His glimmering gaze narrowed, then asked, “Is this problem that big of an issue for your duties?”
“Yes!” she immediately proclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, “I can’t even check on him vaguely without the effect kicking in out of nowhere. It’s like he’s actively working against me!” As she crossed her arms, Delphi couldn’t help but mutter, “I swear, with all the gear he’s got on, it’s like the man’s an unregistered Star Hero or something.”
The Skyfather didn’t visually react to the comment, but rose back in his seat. “If the being is that problematic, then perhaps a bit more action is needed,” he mused, his crown of stars flickering at the idea. Before Delphi could get excited though, he declared, “However, the Verdant Hall will be the ones to investigate this interloper. Not you. For now though, the death of the Mother Eel will be left as an accident.”
Delphi froze at the correction, but seeing the Skyfather stand up to leave, she gave a short nod. “Yes, Skyfather,” she responded, Hurne echoing her words with restrained vitriol. When the Skyfather quickly vanished from the room, she stood back up and left the hall. She knew the Verdant Hall would definitely get the details from him, given how most of the knowledge gods were gathered with them. But with how they preferred to hoard secrets than share them, how on Mugarde would she be able to find out herself?
As she passed a fountain carved from silver, Delphi paused, then changed directions. Maybe a certain friend of hers could help her through some third-party prayers…