Before I’d taken that chest full of dragon fire I’d already been debating what my next Skill would be. I’d just gotten a bit hung up on the decision of which to tackle first. My choices had come down between The Overflowing Shield to boost my defence, Detonating Impact to spice up my mace strikes, or Anchored Step which combined with Entrenched Footing would’ve let me start practising the Walking Fortress Style.
Hey, there was no need to rush making up my mind, not like I was going to be suddenly thrown into a new life where the only thing I could rely on was my Skills, right? Ha.
On the positive side of things it meant my current Skills were fully established and more than stable enough to allow my repertoire to handle a new edition.
So, if the skill manual in the Goblin’s hands still worked and was anything even remotely useful it could be an unbelievable boon in my current circumstances.
Gig scuttled up to where I was standing on a shelf among my gathered spoils.
“Hey Boss, I always wondered what’s up with these, cause they got the delver logo on ‘em but they're just full of weird shit. Know anything bout ’em?” She asked in an eager whisper, her eyes shining with curiosity.
I could see why Gig would think the book was just nonsense. It would be full of seemingly disconnected notes that were mostly technical jargon and obtuse Mana pattern diagrams, but that’s only what would be printed on the pages.
Those were only there for specific clarifications and references. The true knowledge in the book could be accessed once attuned. Converted directly through the Mana connection in feelings, impressions, and concepts.
“That Gig, is a real treasure. Me and my old colleagues used those to help us learn new Skills. With any luck it might be exactly the extra edge I need.”
Gig’s face lit up in recognition. “Oh, Oh! It’s one of those. Just like-”
Having had a solid guess to what she was about to say I cut in. “Davey Delver and the Tomes of True Power?” Which just had the goblin nodding enthusiastically, left speechless by my overwhelming proficiency in Davey Delver lore.
“Yeah kinda, but they don’t work like in those stories. They’re not a free pass to skip putting in the work. You can’t just flip through one and be granted instant mastery of some legendary skill. What they are, however, is a very effective learning aid. The next best thing to having an actual teacher on hand to show you the ropes. With study and practice they can give a solid foundation to build on.” I told Gig by way of explanation.
To my surprise she didn’t look at all disappointed by my answer. In fact she seemed even more fascinated now that she knew she was getting the real inside scoop on Adventurers.
“What’s this one got in it?” She asked, bouncing on her toes in anticipation. Mind spinning with the possibilities. “The ultimate instant death punch? Acidic eye beams of doom? Steel body of inviolate invulnerability? Fireballs you can shoot from your butt!?
While I could appreciate her enthusiasm and shared her eagerness to see what she’d discovered. None of those actually existed outside the pages of Davey Delver. Except that last one. That one was a real Spell called Pyrotechnic Irruption - Posterior Variant a.k.a. The Ass Blast. For all that most Mages put up the stuffy front of an overly dignified intellectual a surprisingly high percentage of them had a sense of humour that leaned heavily to the… juvenal.
“Don’t know, but why don’t we have a look-see and find out.” I said while hastily shoving some items aside to clear a space where I could examine the manual properly.
She set it down in front of me and leaned in close to watch. I started by giving the Skill Manual a poke with [Delver’s Insight] just to see what it might have to say.
[ Dungeon Marked Item: Unknown Book]
[ Type: Magical Loot ] [ Rarity: Uncommon ]
[ A book with a magical aura. ]
Yeah, super helpful. Well, if I needed anymore proof the Dungeon wasn’t all knowing there it was.
The book was a slim leather bound volume with only the Guild’s emblem of a compass on a shield embossed into the cover. It had the easily recognizable appearance of the Basic Skill Manuals regularly sold to Members. They were lesser duplicates copied from masters kept under strict lock in key in the Guild archive. Only being able to hold up to a handful of attuments before the enchantment degraded beyond use. Helping both to keep the costs down and the knowledge inside them from spreading too far. Gaining access to their famously extensive archives is one of the big draws that actively motivated people to strive for Guild membership afterall.
I laid my paws on the cover and felt out the aura. It definitely still had enough integrity to be attuned. However I was immediately hit with a wave of disappointment once I’d discovered what the contents were. After cracking open the book and checking the index I was able to determine It was a decades old predecessor to Entrenched Footing called Heavy Stance.
Adding to the Guild’s archives, whether it was an improvement to an existing skill, a new variant, or an entirely original creation, had the potential to earn you some very lucrative rewards and royalties depending on the value of contribution. So, skills, techniques, and styles were in a constant state of collective iteration and refinement. It was a practice that spurred innovation and helped the Guild stay the powerhouse that it was.
However in this case it just left me with a manual that was not only redundant, but also totally obsolete.
I slumped at the realisation. Trying not to hold up much hope at the answer I turned to Gig and asked. “Don't suppose there's many more of these hiding in among Mount Book Pile, are there?”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
The young Goblin scrunched up her face for a moment in thought. Then answered accompanied by a shrug. “I think so. Maybe a couple?” Which perked me right back up.
~~~~~
Mount Book Pile was a bit more geographically complex than it might have appeared at first glance, imposing some modicum of order over its chaotic landscape. So, from the foothills of assorted smut, to the crags of light entertainment, and all the way up to the unforgiving peaks of miscellanea we searched.
For the most part the vast majority of it wasn’t what anybody would call serious reading. It was generally just the kind of stuff you’d haul with you on a long delve to peruse during downtime. Things you wouldn’t mind losing if push came to shove.
In fact a good portion of the mountain was made up of the more disposable sorts of periodical. Hastly written and cheaply printed gossip pamphlets and news bills. One or two I actually recognized from the streets of Mount Royale, which hinted at some exciting possibilities I’d hopefully be able to follow up on later. Then there were also tattered and yellowed penny dreadfuls of which the Davey Delver serials were a prominent member. Next to those some of the catalogues the more upscale merchants had started to distribute in recent years. I was amused when I noticed the cover of one of those catalogues was an illustration of idealised country living featuring a pretty Elven woman feeding chickens in front of a little cottage that was the spitting image of Gig’s home above the shop. And of course, there was no shortage of more risqué materials, though they had been mostly separated into their own pile. Not out of any sort of sense of propriety mind you, since they’d clearly been prominently placed and were triple the price of their less titillating counterparts.
I also crossed paths with a few slightly more substantial volumes, like dogeared printings of Qwiggly B. Digby’s Compendium of Interesting Things. A book that enjoyed wide popularity by touching on an array of traditional scholarly topics, only written in plain language with an eye to the entertaining. Academics on the whole, hated the book with a visceral passion. Not because the contents were particularly inaccurate, but because it threatened the obtuse mystique they’d grown so accustomed to hiding behind.
There were even a couple copies of The Secret History of Millery. Though not what we’d been looking for, they were still a pleasant surprise to stumble on to. It was, from everything that I’d heard, an absolutely thrilling account of a decade-long conflict between competing Mage institutions which had all been attempting to corner the Capital's pointy hat market. I’d been wanting to read it for ages, but there was always a mile-long waiting list to check it out from the grand library. I totally got Gig to grab one for me and recommend it to Dinkum while I was at it. He was understandably dubious until I relayed a quick summary of the legendarily lurid nature of the events that had been recorded between its covers.
Interspersed among the familiar were stranger texts written in scripts and dialects I wouldn’t have been able to make heads or tails of without [Dungeon Babble] lending a hand. Even then being able to read the words wasn’t the same as being able to understand their contents. Yeah, some of them just seemed to be whatever the local version of trash fiction was but the rest were things I completely lacked any of the context needed to even remotely grasp. For example there was one oddly long thin book titled A Moral Tabulation of the Three Dystiantes Before the Storm. See? Not a single clue what any of that was referring to. Still, just their presents alone indicated the Dungeon’s reach extended far beyond the borders of the lands I knew. I had to count myself lucky to have, so far at least, been ending up somewhere in the vicinity of my old stomping grounds.
~~~~~
After our comprehensive rummage, we managed to turn up a grand total of three more magical books.
The first was a Spell Tome marked with a symbol of a Mage school I vaguely recognized. It seemed to be some manner of Ice Spike. Spell Tomes worked on the same principles as a Skill Manual when it came to conveying the information. However you really needed to be a Mage with all the prerequisite Mage Skills that the Class was built around to get any kind of use out of the contents. Spells were just built wholly different then Skills, even in cases where they produced similar effects.
The second was another Guild manual, though slightly more adorned then the previous with a title actually embossed on the cover. The Skill was simply called Overwhelming Might. An advanced Skill favoured by close combat fighters that greatly boosted strength and resilience while active. Effects along those lines were a common progression of Skills like Vitality Burst, however they tended to be Mana hogs and could take a steep physical toll if overused. Still, even if its mana requirements were a bit beyond what I’d be comfortable with, I may have been able to make use of it. Unfortunately the enchantment had already fallen apart and anything I could have squeezed out of it would have just been a corrupted mess.
The third was when our prospecting of Mount Book Pile paid off and we finally struck gold. It was a common enough Skill I’d seen used plenty, but it was never one I’d have ever considered picking up before. However it had the potential to be just the thing I needed after my change in lifestyle.
The book was a pocket sized volume. Its cover was decorated with a fancy inlay of scrolling vines wrapping around vaguely mystic symbols. Faded traces of gold leaf still highlighting the edges of the designs. If I was to guess, this one had its origins in a Magic Shop. These kinds of common skill books were as available as any other sort of Magic Item. Which is to say, they were easy enough to find if you knew where to look but tended to be wildly overpriced. It wasn’t like Guilds and Academies had a monopoly on magic. The skill likely wouldn’t be as refined as a Guild version of the same Skill, but would still be entirely adequate.
However it’s origins meant a great deal less than the contents at the present. The Basic Skill had the rather dry sort of name favoured by Mages. Namely, Introductory Kinetic Energy Mana Projectile, but the nickname everyone used for it was Mana Flick. The Skill intended for training the core Mage Skills more than actual use in combat. Though, the fact it was just a trainer skill meant it wouldn’t be too Mana intensive for me was a big plus.
In action it was as simple as could be, condense a blob of Mana then unleash it as a tiny blast of force that would impact with about the strength of a slung stone.
Not being a Mage I wouldn’t be able to leverage its full intended effects. It was in a particular subset of Skills generally referred to as Cantrips. Designed to not be disruptive to core Mage Skills the way Skills with chaotically noisy patterns like Vitality Burst would. Furthermore they were intended to be manipulated and enhanced with Mage Skills. For example anyone could project an Illumination Ord to hang near them, but a Mage could use the same Skill and make the orb zip around the room, turn purple, or shape it to a crude caricature of rabbits boinking.
Like I’d said, a bunch of snickering juveniles.
In the case of Mana Flick a Mage would be able to control its trajectories mid flight, change its shape from blunt to piercing after release, or even pour in extra power till they would be classified as anything from a Mana Arrow all the way up to a full Force Lance. I’d even seen a Mage fire a single Mana Flick, super charge it to a Force Lance then split it into an entire volley of Mana Arrows that swerved to wipe out an entire swarm of mobs. A Mage with enough elbow room to work could be fucking scary.
None of which would be feats I’d be matching. All I’d be able to do is shoot off a handful of Mana Flicks in straight lines, maybe shape them as piercing rather than blunt, and with a lot of practice and luck overcharge one a bit. By no means impressive, but the value of permanently adding any kind of ranged attack to my aesental could not be overstated.
To sum up, Rat go pew pew pew!