8:10 A.M.
February 5
Frostmonth 7
Pyre Hill, Limeroom, Veotera
The attitude inside the church was a particularly somber one that morning. After the evening’s revelations Remmy had decided that cremation would be the best course of action for the three bodies. Three shrouded figures remained unmoving in the cart Gary had borrowed as he and the old priest went outside the city to a spot that was set up and waiting for just such a need. Gary followed the priest as he made his way in full vestments while Gary was back in his dark symbol-less cassock.
Their destination was a place he’d come to know as Pyre Hill. While many chose to be buried in traditional graves and Gary could see the unfortunate rows of headstones as they walked among them up the road to the hill in question, there were some people who wanted to be reduced to cinders on the wind or those whose bodies were so badly damaged digging graves was at best a symbolic gesture. Cresting the final bit of walking, Gary took a moment to look around.
The view here was wonderful. One could easily see Limeroom existing back the way they’d come but the rest of the vista was taken up by farmland and interspersed forests for as far as one could see in the rest of the directions. It gave a good lay of the land, and was a living display of the world around them as one could give their goodbyes to loved ones. The facilities here that of a large prebuilt brazier-style platform in the dead center of the hill’s highest point, with prepared firewood and charcoal stored in a protected shed Remmy pointed out quietly. The pyre had been preloaded by a few workers from the local lord’s retinue of servants earlier this morning, presumably as a gesture of respect to the fallen genteel victims.
At the simple gesture Remmy gave, Gary put all three bodies on the platform. Husband and wife went side by side with the child nestled between them forming something of a pyramid structure. Gary stepped back and cast a critical eye over the remains’ positioning before he felt satisfied and retreated back to Remmy’s side. The man’s cross-shaped relqa came out into his wizened hands and he glanced at Gary before holding the magical tool aloft in the direction of the pyre.
“In the name of God, we commit your mortal remains to the flame. Your path here has been difficult but you may be at rest now. Be at peace, in the name of our divine.” Gary felt the tug of magic as Remmy let the relqa take a measure of his strength. The top bar of the cross pulsed with light and Gary was surprised that a beam of energy lanced out and the kindling beneath caught fire. He was more surprised that Remmy used Pearl magic as a laser to ignite the pyre. That tool had more than one use, it seemed.
The flames swiftly came up in a roaring column; the design of the platform and location at the apex of a hill allowed the natural wind currents to turn the structure into something like a blast furnace. That explained how the fire would get hot enough for proper cremation, then. Gary watched the flames and knew they danced in his silvery gray eyes as he glanced to Remmy who had lowered the relqa and stored it away without further comment.
Unbidden, Gary stepped forward and chose to speak in a low voice mostly masked by the titanic heat that would drive others back from being close enough to hear him. “I didn’t know you three. I cannot swear that I would find vengeance for the atrocity committed on your household, but I will keep an eye out. No one should go through what you did; trapped in despair and needless tragedy. Nothing you could have done would justify what happened. Now that I know of the existence of such senseless evil I will remain vigilant for it, and perhaps I can stop your end from coming to others. That I can vow.”
Nothing but the rush of the pyre’s heat greeted his words, but he felt it had been enough for 「Gentle In Death」 to trigger its secondary effect and ensure whatever remained of their spirits couldn’t be chained to the mortal world any more. He finally stepped back to alongside Remmy, the old priest watching him with mild interest.
“Part vow, part using a section of my new Skill,” he answered the unspoken question. Remmy nodded without pushing and led Gary to a nearby stone bench to keep watch over the platform as it did its grim work. As they sat down and watched, Gary broached another subject that had been bothering him. “So what the Hell’s with curse weapons? You had a pretty visceral reaction just being near one.”
“Ah, Gary. I want you to know you did a good thing. Those monstrous things are the product of true evil. As you saw and described a weapon is inscribed like in the manner a relqa would be, then it is used to commit an atrocity and left to.. stew as you put it yesterday. It is something truly wicked, as someone figured out how to use suffering and death to make what is effectively a type of magic not bound to the System.” Gary took notes and frowned at the explanation. He wasn’t the System’s hype man by any stretch, but this sounded like something that it had deliberately not included in its array of mystical gemstone-focused shenanigans.
“People back home would call it some form of blood magic. Something that uses a victim’s life force and vital parts to forge a demonic tool. ..Are there demons in Veotera?”
Remmy nodded. “There are. Most are souls twisted at the cusp of life and death into abominations against their own souls. All but a few types are mindless brutes, reveling in carnage of all flavors like it nourishes them. The thinking ones are by far more dangerous. Other races exist as well, but most are descendants of certain monsters using humans as soil, so to speak. Anyone with bright hair that isn’t blond or has some sort of inhuman body features is usually a product of such violations, or has one in their bloodline. It’s considered rude to bring it up in conversation.”
Gary noted that down too. It explained why there was a low smattering of people with the whole ‘anime technicolor’ hair here and there but most people he’d seen so far stuck to a more so-called natural range of hues. He thought to the ghost lady that he’d freed, and a new layer of tragedy got stacked on top of her list of violations. Life really wasn’t fair at all. Remmy saw Gary thinking and chose to continue.
“But back to the weapons. Part of the training for the clergy is being able to detect those things so we can find and see to their disposal. The reason it was so visceral is so that others can see us react and know they have one nearby in case we’re unable to speak. Part of the Skill, unfortunately for me.” Remmy pulled a nauseated face for a minute as he continued. “Those weapons cause wounds that cannot be healed by magic. They’re usually the tools of assassins who have to ensure their target suffers a mortal blow. A whole section of the Holy Order is dedicated to their discovery and destruction. The good captain sent it to a place each city on the continent has that is warded to conceal and contain them until the Order can get to them for destruction.”
“I take it the Holy Order is the church’s chamber militant?” A nod. “Probably full of paladins. Good thing I’m not evil!” Gary laughed at his own lame joke earning him a bemused smirk from Remmy. “It’s good to know people are on the case of dealing with those horrid things. When you say that magic can’t heal the wounds inflicted, are we talking ‘the wound can heal naturally if the victim lives’ or are we talking ‘bleed until dead’?”
“The former. But as I said they’re mostly used by assassins and they aim for mortal blows to prevent exactly that.” That was good news for Gary. He had so much medical knowledge available to him with his Virtual Network, and he was able to potentially save lives if this came up. His relief was noted but not commented on by the priest as the pyre finally began to seemingly lose some steam. Gary could see there wasn’t anything but a few red-hot embers left of the trio. At least that was dealt with properly.
“Odd question, Remmy. Is resurrection magic a thing?”
“..If it were we’d have no need for places like Pyre Hill anywhere near as often as we do.” Death is Permanent, then. Another Trope Bingo box checked. Gary nodded to himself. He was feeling better and better about that choice to buy himself some armor. It wasn’t like he had a proper Hit Points bar so he’d long assumed he was working on mostly-realistic rules given Limeroom wasn’t some high fantasy ‘everyone uses magic in daily life like it was breathing’ situation, and was more anachronistic blended late Renaissance to early 1700s if he were to put the vibe of this place into Earth-based comparisons. He actually was coming to like the aesthetic.
The fire died down quickly enough to embers leaving a clean but probably flesh-meltingly hot platform bared once more to the open sky. Seeing the task completed, Remmy stood up and Gary stood with him. They made their way back to the cart and the priest gestured at the conveyance.
“Make sure you return that.”
“Of course. You’ll be fine going back by yourself?”
“I’m old not decrepit, boy!””
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Taking some time to get the cart back to it’s true owner with thanks, Gary made it back to Limeroom in good time. He swung by the blacksmith he’d commissioned armor from and found his purchase was ready. Speaking with the man revealed that Jack had sent someone behind him and paid a bit extra to ensure his order was given priority. Probably liked the idea of his rising star having material between himself and the nasties of working as a Delver. The looming threat of a dungeon popping up any time now probably added a sense of urgency.
He carried his new gear to the church and changed into the protective equipment in his chambers. He was very pleased with how the armor had turned out, and the measurements he and the blacksmith had worked out were spot-on. He’d gotten some thick short-sleeved tunics to go underneath it all.
[https://i.imgur.com/3P1SFPq.jpg]
The base of the outfit was a supple dark leather across the upper torso and into a protective collar guarding his lower neck, augmented with sections of plate. He’d opted to split the cuirass design he’d originally considered into a trio of smaller sections; a plate across his rib cage, a similar plate at his upper back, and a girdle-like bit to cover his abdomen with a set of small hinged plates covering the section of his spine between the upper back plate and the lacing points of the ‘girdle’. The arrangement left him with leather-covered gaps in the overall defensive structure, but it gave him a degree of flexibility he preferred. Hinged two-section pauldrons covered his shoulders and the leather under armor stopped at about mid-bicep. There was a gap with exposed flesh between mid-bicep and near the top of the forearm section of his elbows to help a tiny bit with keeping himself cool in the armor.
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He had replaced his simple bracers with proper metal gauntlets, the backs of which were reinforced and extended over his knuckles to give him built-in knuckle dusters. It would be a boon given his martial arts training. The leather returned on the inside of the gauntlet and extended most of the way up his fingers to leave up to the first knuckle of each finger exposed to keep his sense of touch. The leather also returned in the form of trousers held up with a wide brown leather belt that worked itself into a knife sheath strapped to his right thigh. The Bowienet went in the new sheath flawlessly, while the simple dagger and club were secured to spots on the back of the belt.
The ensemble was finished out with sollerets covering his shins and the tops of his boots. He knew he was going to have to kick someone properly at one point, and he wanted metal to aid the protection for himself. Kicking those Skeletons had left him with some rapidly-healing bruises. All in all, he was exceptionally pleased with the way the armor protected him while allowing him to retain the maneuverability he’d always enjoyed. He went through a few push-ups, a few sit-ups, and basically wriggled himself in whatever way he thought he could get into to make sure nothing snagged or overly hindered him.
Remmy came to see what the quiet clattering was about and watched at the doorway as Gary was finishing his movement tests as he nodded to himself. The strange movements elicited a snort out of the old man and Gary stopped what he was doing to stand there and spread his arms out wide in an inviting gesture.
“What do you think? Does this make me look good?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the chest piece supposed to be one solid bit?” Gary grinned at him.
“Normally, yes. I decided since I’m far more mobile than anything I needed something that gave me the ability to move as I fight. You saw how I tend to do things with those thugs.” Remmy pulled a face but nodded. “So I opted to go for a style of armor design popular in fictional stories back home known generally as ‘half-plate’. I sacrificed the raw structural defense of plate armor with deliberate gaps to improve movement range. This is a popular style for characters who value maneuverability; like hunters, rangers, and us sneaky-beaky types. It’s half a suit of plate armor, hence its name!”
“..You clearly put some thought into this. I can only imagine the look the blacksmiths working on this contraption gave you as you described what you wanted.” Gary’s grin only widened.
“Oh, they looked at me like I grew a tail out of my forehead. Dumping a big pile of runee and some Sovereigns on the counter quickly changed their tune.” Gary was about to continue speaking when a flash of pain made him visibly flinch. Remmy stepped forward two steps before Gary held up a hand as he grimaced at the familiar pain.
It seemed it was showtime. Gary remembered this pain very well and had come to figure out it was his reaction to those rifts in space opening up nearby. He growled as the headache was slowly climbing in throbbing tempo and looked towards Remmy as he gathered his cloak without a word. Putting it on as he walked past the priest, he simply called back as he made for the door outside.
“Remmy, go get the Delvers. I think the dungeon just opened up. Tell them to look for me.”
“But how do you know that?” Gary opened the doors and spared a glance backwards as the man traveled in his wake. He tapped the side of his head.
“I figured out on the way here that I get a very specific headache when one of these rifts is nearby.” Another grimace crossed his face at a particularly sharp throb. He swallowed and continued. “I’m gonna track this feeling down and hopefully intercept anything that comes out of the dungeon to say hi. Go now.” With that, Gary put on a burst of speed and vanished into the daylight city crimson cloak flapping like a crisp flag behind him.
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Following the throbbing in his head, Gary quickly ran through the streets weaving in and out between groups of people who were startled as he rushed by. As he moved and stopped every now and then, he noticed the throbbing was gaining a sense of direction. As he turned his head one way, the source point of the throb shifted another way and pointed him to a shopfront about halfway into the noble’s district of the city. The closer he got the steadier the pain in his head became until he stopped right in front of a particular estate with a large manor on it and some well-manicured grounds.
The source of his pain was coming from inside. The guards at the gate into the grounds saw him as he slowed his approach and moved their weapons into more steady grips as they eyed the tall gray-eyed teenager move closer.
“Halt, boy! This is Lord Wevre’s place of residence! You need an appointment to get onto the grounds, Delver!” Thankfully Gary had remembered to put his medallion on display as he ran to cut some minor confusion out. Gary glowered at the man who spoke.
“There’s a dungeon opening on your lord’s grounds. Open the gate.” That earned him a scoff from both guards. Gary clicked his tongue at them as the headache reached a previously unknown threshold, causing him to stagger for a moment before he managed to overcome it thanks to his Constitution kicking in. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this.” Gary took two steps back, gathered himself, began a sprint and by the third footfall used 「Leap」. With the momentum he easily cleared the smooth-topped painted iron gate and landed in the grounds proper. The guards immediately scrambled to follow him as Gary took off again, circling to the building’s left and drawing his two knives as he went.
Once around the corner he saw a sight that made him pause for a moment. In the air hovering perhaps a few inches off the ground in a circular garden patch with some flowers he didn’t care to identify was an ovoid cloud. The cloud was made of energy crackling happily to itself, but what made Gary pause was the color. A gleaming glowing blue was the name of the game, and Gary’s Virtual Network flared to life as he searched for what color this actually was as the guards and some of their buddies finally caught up to him. The entry he found filled him with dread.
“Cherenkov Blue,” he muttered under his breath as something in his posture actually brought the guards up short, weapons and all. This rift - his headache was pointing him dead at it as he stalked a perimeter around it - was glowing the same kind of blue that nuclear reactors did as they ionized the water around them. This was a new phenomenon for him, and the guards watched Gary as his stalking continued and he raised his knives in a ready-to-attack position at the glowing cloud. Finally pacing a circuit around the cloud Gary was about to say something when a figure stepped out of the cloud.
It was a short, stubby thing with limbs too long for it’s proportions, a head too big for them either, and a mouth full of needle-like teeth. The creature panted as if in anticipation and locked eyes with Gary. The mouth stretched into a grin showing way too many of those needle-teeth, and the mottled green skin around the sulfur-hued eyes crinkled with delight at the idea of doing something bad to him. With no further warning, the creature charged. Gary immediately met it with a counter-charge and the creature’s crude knife was batted aside by Gary’s simple dagger before the Bowienet came slamming down through the neck and into where he hoped the thing’s heart was. Burgundy blood sprayed from the fatal wound as the monster immediately lost life and fell limply off his blade to a lifeless puddle at Gary’s feet.
The guards reacted way too late to the sudden surge of violence, crying out and leveling their spears at the dead creature. Gary looked down at it and mentally labeled it some flavor of feral goblin. He kept his gaze centered back on the rift.
“Someone go raise the alarm. Direct the Delvers here; tell them Gary found the dungeon and is holding position until I get reinforcements. Someone get me some chalk or something so I can mark where it is!” He heard bodies scrambling as one of the guards took off to get help and another was searching his hip pouch before stepping forward and offering a piece of simple white chalk. Gary sheathed the simple dagger and keeping an eye that he didn’t get too close slowly drew a circle about a foot away from the edges of the rift’s boundaries. The other guards now had a spot to watch and took up defensive positions around the circle Gary marked, spears at the ready.
“What is the meaning of this?!” A manly roar of upset confusion sounded out as a man began to stride towards the assembled people but Gary simply looked over at him and raised the hand still holding the chalk sharply to indicate he should halt where he was. The man was dressed in a velvet robe in a rich purple, having clearly been relaxing in the privacy of his own home when the commotions started. The immaculately curled handlebar mustache was the first thing Gary noticed, then the fact the man exuded an aura of wealth and privilege. The man glowered at Gary and the name he’d heard finally clicked.
Wevre. The local leader of this ‘Velvet Court’. Gary gave him a glower before flicking the hand with the chalk at the dead goblin on his manicured lawn. The man’s face went suitably pale which lightened Gary’s mood. He clearly reassessed the situation; his guards standing at the ready around a chalk ring drawn on his clean stone pathway, a creature dead on his lawn, and a Delver telling him to stay where he was. Lord Wevre wisely took two steps back and Gary finally lowered his hand.
“Dungeon,” Gary said simply as he waved towards the circle and the glowing cloud that apparently only he could see. “I suggest you vacate the grounds. Quickly. The other Delvers should be here any moment.”
“How did you find it so quickly,” the lord asked with a clearly suspicious look on his face. Jack trotted around the building’s corner with an assortment of other Delvers at his heels and heard the question asked.
“That’s a good question, milord.” Jack echoed with an identical look on his face. Gary glanced at the lord and chose to address Jack instead. He pointed to his own head then hooked a thumb back at the rift.
“I found out recently that I get a very specific headache near these things. I have to be a certain range from them, but turns out I can find them by following the throbbing in my head.” A flicker came across said headache and Gary whirled towards the portal to see another creature emerge armed with a wooden club with some rusty iron spikes in the top fourth of the weapon. The nearest guards reacted immediately and rammed several spears into the hapless thing dropping it where it stood. Gary looked back at Jack, then at Lord Wevre, the look at the lord a clearly pointed one.
“Damn, it’s already leaking out monsters,” Jack cursed as he motioned to the Delvers as they trickled in, all wearing and making final adjustments to their gear as they took positions to support the guards in warding any monsters. The guards clearly appreciated the assistance, and Gary looked at the ring that was forming as even city guards were streaming in and even brought mobile iron-banded wooden barricades with them. Lord Wevre was looking on with a weary expression at all the people trampling his lawn and the few bits of garden immediately near the rift.
Once everyone settled in for what they presumed would be a long barrage of drawn-out encounters Gary turned back to Jack as a third goblinoid creature emerged and was met with another hail of spear blows. He voiced the question that was on his mind aloud so everyone could hear him clearly.
“So, who gets to go in?”
“Gets? The Delve is handled by drawing lots unless they’re a specific type of monster that needs training to fight. Gets to go in.. Bah!” John looked at him like he’d gone mad, and out of the corner of his eye he was watching the lord watch him like a hawk at the question and it’s response. Gary gave a wry smile and responded.
“In that case, I offer myself as tribute.” That drew a reaction from the men present. It was apparently common wisdom that no one volunteered to enter a dungeon. Gary laughed aloud at the reaction, his laughter a tinge mad in an attempt to weed out the weaker hearts around him. “Come on! It’s not like we get to do this every day. I think we should at least clear it out once so the Lord here has the chance to skedaddle.”
John waffled back and forth before sighing heavily and pointing straight at Gary’s chest with an index finger. “You’re so eager to go inside, then fine. You’ve got 「Stealth」 so you should be able to scout out the numbers. Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Understood. One last question. Is there some sort of nexus or Core I should be on the lookout for?”
“If you find anything like that, it’ll be a first. No one knows how to destroy dungeons, so the good Lord here’s probably out a manor at this point.” Jack gave Lord Wevre an apologetic nod and the lord returned it, his eyes still locked on Gary and his oddly cheery attitude about this disaster. Gary’s mouth twisted into a grin at the news it hadn’t been done before. A plan was formulating in his head.
“Good to hear I’ll be the first. I wouldn’t be a proper Plunderer if I didn’t want to steal the unstealable. Time to make history!” Giving Jack a half-mocking salute, Gary turned and ran at full tilt through the rift before anyone could think to try and stop his seeming madness. He felt a painfully familiar warping of the world as he crossed the Cherenkov Blue aura of the rift and vanished into thin air to all of the observers who watched his fervor with slackened jaws.