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Traps appeared sooner rather than later. A simple trip wire sat across the route, one highlighted by the interface. Once tripped, an elaborate system of pulleys along the ceiling did get highlighted a warning orange at least. Flint on flint induced a quick burst of flame that engulfed a ball of pitch. Another fallen counterweight fell, causing this makeshift fireball to be sent careening towards the narrow walkway – which was to say, directly at Calaf’s head.
A steel kite shield preserved Calaf’s precious hit points (and the integrity of his facial features). The fireball splatted against the shield, fell to the ground, and swiftly smoldered out.
He would have to tread carefully from now on.
There were not a lot of clues regarding where to go. Calaf was no Scout – not even a Trailblazer, really, so the full list of skills and passive abilities that would allow him to highlight the faintest of footsteps down these corridors was unavailable to him. Ah, if he could have possibly enlisted Gerard in this, he may have had a better time of it.
But it was not all stumbling around in the dark (though there was a lot of that). He still had the basic-level highlighting ability available to anyone. And it found quite a few false bricks embedded into the walls.
Calaf tried the first one he could find. The brick sunk deep into the wall. Another false wall raised, revealing… a treasure chest with a gleaming golden lock mechanism.
“Has to be fake.” Calaf shook his head. “Not going for it.”
And so, the aspiring Paladin left this very obvious booby trap behind, looking for slightly less conspicuous routes forward.
Another floor-mounted interactable sat beneath an overturned bucket. A bit less obvious this time. Calaf pressed it with his boot.
This time, an ankle-height spiked vice contraption flew out of a flooded gutter not two paces in front of Calaf. If he’d continued onward – and hadn’t been wearing heavy steel armored boots – he’d have suffered a crippling Status Effect: Broken Leg. (-90% movement speed, -90% to all Agility calculations, requires a healer to cleanse).
Not for the first time, Calaf questioned the wisdom of proceeding down here alone. Yet, he certainly didn’t want to involve an unaffiliated group of near-novices in either the relic theft case or his own personal chivalric quest for justice.
Still, he carried onward. To a dead-end flanked by two deep pools of water.
Here there were two points of egress: a pull chain connecting to some unseen mechanism in the ceiling, and another false brick highlighted by the interface.
Both seemed a little… obvious. Part of him wanted to try the brick given the nature of what kind of organization he was looking for. But they could be expecting that. He thought it out some more.
The guild hall he was searching for here met in secret. They were borrowing this space, built into ruins that existed long before the Ancient Heroes of Yore. They didn’t have the luxury to custom-build secret passages into this cistern so much as they were just borrowing preexisting false walls and switches meant for much older purposes.
Calaf tried the pull chain.
Immediately there was a gurgling sound. A whirlpool formed in the leftmost drainage pool. Slowly, steadily, the pool drained, revealing stairs and a damp corridor leading off to a ladder. Calaf examined this ladder – relatively bereft of rust. Meaning it was either not placed in this pool indefinitely or was otherwise well-maintained.
This path forward, he could work with.
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A wide, round chamber – a circular stone and wood platform over a deep reservoir, awaited in the cold stone-brick heart of Port Town’s drainage network. The stone floor itself was high and dry – no evidence of recent flooding. Plenty of room to set up a hidden base beneath the streets and avenues of the busy port.
A handful of ruffian-looking fellows waited around a makeshift table. Calaf scanned their interfaces. Mostly higher-level twenty-somethings. Not a battle Calaf would be winning alone, but a small enough level delta to where these thieves would at least try to negotiate. Killing a fully armored near-peer at level even with a group still required a bit of effort.
“Welcome to the thieves’ guild,” said a lazy, droning voice belonging to the highest-level figure in the cistern – a level 39. “We heard your armor clangin’ about on the ladder twelve minutes ago. Not exactly our usual clientele.”
Calaf emerged into some torchlight.
“You a church guard? This a sting?” asked the presumed leader.
“Just a wayfarer.”
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The ringleader read Calaf’s title and status off the interface. He scratched at an unshaven beard, steely grey eyes gazing at Calaf through the dark.
“Right. Well, if you’re buyin’ or selling we’ve hardly got a taboo against doing business with knights. Greetings, morally scrupulous paladin. I am:”
Name:
Metzger, Humble Custodian, Thieves Guild
Rank:
Thief(?)
Level:
39
Status:
67/67 HP (Shady)
Yep. By far the strongest person in the room. His relative dearth of HP offset by highly useful mid-level Scout skillsets.
“Good day, sir,” Calaf did a little bow, as trained. “Are you in the business of acquiring holy relics?”
“Not dispelling the suspicion that this is some kind of elaborate church sting,” said Metzger.
The others in the group fanned out along the flanks. Calaf took a subtle step back to ensure they were all in a one-hundred-eighty-degree cone in front of him. The ideal engagement positioning for a shielder, stalwart, or any higher ranking thereof.
“There’s someone who’s been stealing church relics. A pair of criminals. Apostates, threatening to throw every stop along the pilgrimage route into chaos. I’m trying to stop them.”
“Apos-who?” Metzger’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll have you know we’re legitimate businessmen. Read our names off the menu. We’re on-brand, same as you.”
Calaf eyed the group warily. “Yes, but, you’re all thieves. One step up from bandits out in the field, living most un-Menuly lives.”
Some of the lesser thieves scoffed.
“Oh? If our lives are so against the glories of the Menu, why do we fit so well into its class system?” Metzger asked. “Thief is a job just like any other. Why, none other than your besainted Thief himself was among the four holy heroes.”
“That’s not.” Calaf stomped his foot. “That’s not true at all. The Scout was an honorable, fleet-of-foot vanguard for the heroes. He was no simple brigand.”
Church scriptures were clear.
“Oh. Some Pryor tell your that?” Metzger laughed.
“As a matter of fact my martyred foster father taught me everything I know.” Calaf puffed himself up, renewing his grip on his shield. “And if a lowly thief were among the olde heroes, why, there’s surely no reason for him to lie!”
Brigands on the right slunk past, flanking Calaf’s 180-degree cone of defense. He took a few steps back…
“Funny you should say that,” Metzger mused, looking past the outnumbered Stalwart.
… right into a hulking and fleshy wall that had not been there moments prior.
A fist the size of Calaf’s entire head struck a percussive blow against the Stalwart’s steel shoulder plates.
“Gents, leave him for Bruce,” Metzger said with a sinister grin.
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Enter Bruce.
Name:
Bruce
Rank:
Monk, Thieves Guild
Level:
60
Status:
119/120 (Sniffles)
Weapons:
Fists.
Level 60! Wearing naught but a toothy grin and plain clothes, and even then, one blow to at-level armor had shorn twenty HP off Calaf’s health.
Name:
Calaf
Status:
79/99 HP
Bruce was twice Calaf’s height and about Calaf’s height stretched horizontally too. All muscle, of course. And that class, ‘Monk’. Not one Calaf was familiar with.
“Funny thing about those church teachings.” Metzger took a sip of wine before he continued. “They prioritize combat and pilgrimage parties at the expense of everything else. Oh, societally useful skills like farming and smithing get you some levels, sure. But clearing out traps, picking locks? You can do it for years and not gain ten levels. Church doctrine is biased towards church builds, ja? Hence why they reward our scouting skillset far more than our burglary kit.”
“Burglary is a sin!” Calaf wheeled around and threw his shield up. “It’s only right and proper to avoid rewarding such immoral behavior.”
Bruce swung again with a heavy wind-up, full force punch. Calaf held his shield up to block, and went flying back.
Critical hit!
Name:
Calaf
Status:
12/99 HP
The kite shield should block one hundred percent of all damage. Meaning Bruce’s strength values were so prodigiously high that it was breaking all manner of Menu-vaunted protections and blessings.
“Now Bruce here is what we call a Monk. Not a monastic title mind you. Combat-focused, a spinoff of battlemage around level 12 that forsakes magic for inner cultivation. Off-meta for the church’s pilgrimages. Fighting dire-gators and fire dire-geckos with your bare hands is not good for anyone’s life expectancy. So, anyone who survived to level 60 must be particularly powerful…”
Calaf fell to his knees. On the flanks, the other thieves put their knives away. They were unneeded. The battle was between bodyguard Bruce and Calaf, and it was effectively won already.
“Funny thing, we did get a few Brandless in here earlier. Somewhat infrequent customer but I’m aware of her,” Metzger said. “Wanted to sell a few relics for inflated prices. Almost laughed her out of the cistern before she explained their importance as more than just dusty old saint’s bones.”
Bruce looked down at Calaf with a neutral expression on his face. Even one more blow would finish this.
“But Riverglen is a long way from here, even by boat. An artifact that can control the power of beasts down in the glen is of limited utility here. Why buy relics we can’t truly use when we can just go for one much closer to home?”
“You’re going to…” Calaf spat out blood. “Steal Port Town’s relic? The guards are already alerted to Jelena’s crimes. You’ll never get anywhere near it, thief.”
“Bah. Guards are mostly on my payroll anyway.” Metzger motioned to Bruce. “Finish it quick. And preserve his arm – amputated brands are worth a pretty penny on the black market.”
Calaf tried to rise to his feet and found he had to steady himself with the blunt end of his spear. Bruce approached, knuckles cracking.
“Woulda sicced Bruce on Jelena too, if it weren’t for that freak of a mountain man with her.”
Bruce pulled his fist back for another full-force punch. Calaf held his shield out futilely.
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