???, Cowardly One
Goblin, Male, Unclassed
Location: Deep in the forests of Triestwald, resting on his bed in his tiny cabin
He awoke to the sensation of something wet and sloppy on his cheek, his face rearing back from the affection as he opened his eyes blearily to look at the puppy. The little bits of early spring light that entered through his window shone down upon them both, accentuating the puppy’s golden-brown motley fur.
“You woke up bright and early, didn’tcha?” he asked, still a bit sleepy.
More licking ensued, this time going for his eyes.
“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling at the boisterousness of the little one as she clambered onto his head, fully waking him up, “That’s enough, I’m up, I’m up.”
Picking her up from where she was on his face and placing her onto the wooden floorboard, he got up from the bed and began making breakfast.
He still has no idea what to name the good girl, but he’ll think of one soon.
He looked down to where she was patiently waiting on the floor, her tail wagging as she looked up at him as he mashed the berries and grains into a mushy paste with his mortar and pestle.
“Good girl.” He smiled, the puppy yapping in response.
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Angel, The Goodest Girl
Neuforden/Golden Shepherd-Mix Hound, Female, Huntress
Location: Deep in the heart of the forest, following the trail of a Whiteflesh Buck in the snow
“Keep following the trail, Angel!” her friend called out from behind her.
With her nose down, she sniffed, keeping the almost-white-coloured blood trails in sight as she pursued their prey.
She suddenly stops, her posture going stiff as her ears turn to the left, the noise of laboured breathing present in that direction.
She looks back at him, signalling that she’s found where the buck is.
He strides up to where she is, petting her favourably as he speaks.
“Who’s my goodest girl? You are!” He rubs her head affectionately as he turns to look in the direction of the dying buck. “We’ll be eating like royalty, baby!”
He kisses her forehead before going ahead, whistling for her to follow.
Angel’s tail wags uncontrollably.
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???, Cowardly One
Goblin, Male, Author
Location: Deep in the forests of Triestwald, in his tiny cabin
After their lovely feast of Whiteflesh Venison and Vegetable soup, both he and Angel leapt onto the bed. He held onto his stomach, feeling full from the meal.
“That was a good meal! Your dad’s a good cook, eh, Angel?” She smiled, answering his question. “Good girl.”
Reaching over to the row of books kept in the tiny bookcase he’d made, he plucked out his notebook.
He tapped his charcoal against the bottom of the page, contemplating what he should write. He looks to Angel, speaking as he did.
“I was thinking of writing a short story about you, my ‘lil Angel.” Her head resting on his lap, she looks up at him, still smiling as she barks quietly in response. “Yeah, I think it would be a good idea too.”
He writes the word ‘Angel’ at the top of the page, placing his bookmark made of bark so that he can return to the page quickly.
He scratches her back with his hand, with Angel enjoying the lavish attention as she leans into his affection.
Yawning, he closed the book in front of him before placing it back into his bookcase. “Well, I think I can start on it tomorrow,” he said as he kissed her forehead, repositioning her to be on her pillow beside his, covering her with their shared blanket as he slips into it as well. “Good night.”
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Angel, The Goodest Girl
Neuforden/Golden Shepherd Mix Hound, Female, Huntress
Location: In their home’s backyard garden, resting on the soft grass
Angel basks in the midday sun of early winter.
It is a beautiful day.
“Stupid rabbits!” her friend said as he looked through his crops.
She barks out loud. It’s not rabbits, my friend! It’s the mice and slugs!
“Always sneaking around, eating our food!” He turns to face her. “Can you believe those stinking vermin?!” He throws his arms up, an air of exasperation in his gesture. “Look at how many of our carrots they ate! Leaf and all!” He pulls on a rather limp carrot stalk, yanking it out of the dirt.
It is a half-eaten and misshapen thing. A miserable harvest, she’s sure.
“I hate rabbits!” he declared with a shout facing the sky, still holding onto the carrot.
She barks once more. It’s not the rabbits! It’s the mice and slugs, I said!
He doesn’t understand her, ignoring her remarks, but that’s okay. He’s a smart friend, he’ll figure it out, she’s sure!
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???, Cowardly One
Goblin, Male, Author
Location: Deep in the forests of Triestwald, having a walk outside near his home
He knows that something is wrong with Angel.
She walks slowly, her bones and joints having become too weak for her to play as hard as she once did.
It’s been nearly a decade since they both met.
He fears that she’s nearing her end.
She breathes in and out, panting as she lies down on the ground.
“You wanna take a break?” She turns to look at him from where she lies on the grass, still panting. “Okay, we can take a break, my ‘lil Angel.”
He sits down beside her on the soft grass, pouring water out of his waterskin into his cupped hand for her to lap up and drink.
“We can take as long as a break as you’d like.”
He’s terrified.
He doesn’t want her to go.
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Angel, The Goodest Girl
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Neuforden/Golden Shepherd Mix Hound, Female, Huntress
Location: In their home, lying on her favourite blanket that she shares with her dearest old friend
“Can you take one more bite, please?” he begged, tears gently falling down his face.
It hurts, old friend.
She tries to bring her head up from the bed to eat the food he’d placed on the platter.
She is unsuccessful.
“Please, Angel?” He places his hand into the mushy food, grabbing a tiny portion for her to eat from his hand as he brings it closer to her mouth. “Just one more bite... Last one?”
She tries once more, ignoring the pain as best as she can as she tries to swallow it down.
It hurts.
He cups his hand, bringing water from her bowl for her to drink.
She does.
“That’s good, thank you, Angel... We can go to bed now, okay?”
Her friend gently lifts her off of her favourite blanket, the blanket that they share, reaching down to place it over her body. He shifts the pillow from under her slightly, making it more comfortable for her head to rest on.
After helping her get settled, her friend rubs his eyes from where he lies on his pillow.
“Please don’t go, okay?” he asked, tears still streaming down his face, ignorant of the constant rubbing of his eyes.
I don’t think I can stay, old friend.
“I dunno what I’m going to do without you if you go...”
I’m sorry.
“I’m scared. Please, not just yet, okay?”
I love you, old friend. You know I do, and I always will.
She closes her eyes and rests. She hears him mumbling beside her, as he strokes her head, his tears overflowing into her pillow, seeping deep into its fabric.
“Please, Dryas, give me one more year with her, please, I beg of you…”
I will always love you, my dearest friend.
She wags her tail for the last time.
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???, Cowardly One
Goblin, Male, Author
Location: Lying in his bed beside his Angel
He strokes the back of her head, praying for a sign. Anything.
His prayers go unheard.
Party Member Slain!
Angel, The Goodest Girl, has died!
He sobs as he mourns, bringing her head closer to his face as he embraces her for the final time.
(Angel) has wished with true love and conviction!
You are now being given a new Title!
[Dearest Old Friend] Title Bestowed!
Dearest Old Friend
Description: I may not be there for your lifetime, but you were there for mine — and, oh, what a pleasure it was — my Dearest Old Friend!
Gain an unbreakable bond.
+10 to HP.
Swap out [Cowardly One] for [Dearest Old Friend]?
He laughs even more painfully at the cruelty of the System, his hands still clutched tight around his beloved girl, her fur matted with his tears.
[Cowardly One] swapped out for [Dearest Old Friend]!
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Cryer-Oak
Stone Goblin, Female, Inventor
Location: In the Earthen-Home Tavern, sat in one of the booths with her party
“You and me make good-good team, Cryer-Oak!” the ogre said after he finished his mug of ale. “And you!” He turned to face Sweet-Dirt. “You were holding out on party! More abilities than you said you had!” Quiet-Leaf said seriously before his expression turned to that of a drunken smile, before he continued, “But you do good-good damage to Empty-Heads!”
Sweet-Dirt looked happy at the praise, opening her mouth to speak, “Why, thank you—”
“—They’re starter monsters of the first floor, of course she’d deal ‘good-good’ damage, you moron,” Tiny-Red interrupted, his first mug of ale not even close to being a quarter of being finished.
She sunk inwards on her chair at the Defensive Magician’s downplaying of her achievements, taking a tiny sip of her ale.
Cryer-Oak frowned at the annoying prick. “Shut up, Tiny-Red. You’re just mad you didn’t get to do much!” She stuck her tongue out, further riling the pitiful idiot.
The man flushed a deep red, returning to his ale. “What?! That’s absolutely preposterous! You morons just can’t be bothered following simple instructions!”
Stupid pride, this one has.
“No make me hit you, Teeny-Tiny-Red.” The Berserker side-eyed the human, a flash of annoyance made obvious on his face. “You pissing me off.”
“Oh, fuck off.” The human bit back, with his mug’s rim still on his lips.
We all fall silent, the room still abuzz with activity. Shouting customers and drunken belching are the most prominent and the loudest things you’d bear witness to in this place.
Sweet-Dirt breaks the silence. “We got farther today, at least.”
Tiny-Red couldn’t disagree, mumbling about something else, his voice too muffled for Cryer-Oak to hear due to the surrounding noises.
“We did good-good on run, we do same thing tomorrow. Agree?”
Seeing no fault in the big guy’s logic, both she and Sweet-Dirt agree.
“3 to 1 vote, Teeny-Tiny,” the ogre said, a mocking smile on his face.
“Fuck you.”
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Frederick “Fred” Thume
Human (Fae-Blooded), Male, Cook
Location: On the opposite side to his wife along the graveyard fence
“Honey, I don’t think this is a good idea! What about the baby?!”
She kept clamoring over his body as he supported her, lifting her higher and higher as best as he could through the iron-wrought fencing.
“Use your damn strength, you fool! I’m not getting any higher!”
“I need to reserve the Fatherhood ability for—”
“Use it now, damnit!” his wife shouted, trying her best to lift herself over.
(Frederick) has used: [Fatherhood: Dad Strength]
A surge of energy rushes through his veins, his wife no longer feeling heavy as he slowly lifted her up and over the fence, gently lowering her down to the ground on the grass next to him.
“There goes one of the five uses…” he mumbled as she steadied herself on him.
“You did it for the mother of your child,” she replied, breathing hard from the exertion. “It’s well worth it.”
“Yes, yes, my dear.” He pointed towards his father-in-law’s grave. "Go ahead and—”
Before he could even finish, she was already power-walking to where it was.
The surge of energy faded away, leaving his body wracked with weakness.
He followed his wife, lagging behind a bit and stumbling due to the dire state of his entire body.
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Milly Geoffreys
Human, Female, Bookkeeper
Location: Standing in front of her father’s grave
“What’s it say?” Frederick asked from her side, his legs a bit wobbly.
“It’s a location…” Milly replied.
“Where to, my dear?”
“Deep in the mountains…”
“Oh.” He ran his forearm against his forehead, his sweat coating his arm. “Is that all?”
“It, uh—” She gulps, a bead of sweat making its way down her forehead. “—It says that Papa's waiting for me in a Dungeon.”
“WHAT?!”
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Grimm
Location: Inside his dungeon’s highest floor, standing in front of an odd grave marker
Grimm looks at the leather-bound book, its exterior mildewed and a bit soft, most likely from years of exposure to the rain.
It’s not a conventional grave marker, is it? It must be very special, then!
Instead of inspecting it, he decides to sit in front of the grave and read the book.
He hopes that this was its intended function. Why have a book as a grave marker if it was not meant to be read?
He opens the book, flipping to the first page. To his surprise, the pages themselves are still flawless, unmarred by the passing of time. He began to read.
“Devoted to ‘The Goodest Girl’ there ever was,” Grimm read out loud for himself, feeling less lonely with his own voice for company. “I miss you greatly, my little Angel...”
Something about the words struck a chord within Grimm, his soul feeling a tinge of bittersweet sadness, before placing the book back down where it first lay, feeling like it’s a bit too invasive — even if he is the only one keeping this place in check — to read any further.
...But he is a bit curious.
He raises his hand and waves it into the air, feeling through the many souls that inhabit this place, searching for the one that is directly tied to this book.
“A-ha!” He senses the connection, summoning the apparition as he wonders who would be the recipient of such a special book.
Spirit of Angel, The Goodest Girl
Level: 23*
Class: Huntress
Description: A well-beloved hunting dog, called back to the Realm of the Living once more.
[A Passing Memory]: Has a chance of having a fleeting interaction with loved ones upon being summoned. Once it has been activated, it can never occur again. The chance of this occurring is equal to their level as a percentage {currently 23%}.
*Maintained the Spirit’s level due to an unbreakable bond with a currently alive entity.
The hunting dog is of a large breed, almost reaching up to Grimm’s waist — and he is pretty tall himself.
“Hello there, young pup!” He waved at the confused dog, the Huntress’ head tilted to the side where she sat, her floppy ears folding in the direction of her tilt. “I am Grimm.”
She barks back in what he assumes is a greeting. Grimm is very pleased with this since he’s always wanted a dog.
Delightful! This is going to be great!
Angel turns away from him and sniffed the air, turning around to face the leather-bound book.
“Ah,” he realised. “That must be your owner’s book — do not fret, I have not read past the first page!” Grimm awkwardly stood still, worried that his invasion of privacy might not be well-received by the large hound dog.
To his surprise, the young pup started prancing about the graveyard and taking in the sights of the perpetually dark forest they were in.
Phew!
Seeing that he had nothing else to do and was a bit tired from the summoning, he decided to follow the young pup around, explaining to her what he does here as the Dungeon Core.
She doesn’t seem to care, really, but he doesn’t mind. He just found it nice to finally have someone of good company.
The other souls he’d summoned weren’t as interested, shooing him away or being downright terrified of him.
“Oh, that right there is where my core is!” He points at the orb inside the cenotaph as they near the building. “Would you like to come closer to it?”
With a bark that Grimm took as an affirmative, Angel bounded towards the core and jumped, pushing the orb off of its pedestal.
“Wait! Don’t do that! Come back here!”
She began to roll the ball around once it had landed on the floor, the orb surprisingly not shattering from the fall. She pushes it with her nose, with it ending up rolling into the sharp corner of the building. The Huntress’ tries to get it out of there with her front paws but fails to do so.
Grimm strode closer to where she was. He felt a bit bad for her, to be honest.
Since the core seems to be intact and unaffected, I don’t see why not?
Gently pushing Angel to the side, he reached down to grab the core from the corner. He walks outside of the cenotaph, turning around to where Angel was.
“Wanna play fetch?” He shook the ball in his hand, enticing the Huntress.
Angel barked.
That sounds like a yes to me!
He throws the dungeon core high and far into the forest, the young pup bolting toward where it landed, before rolling it through the leafy undergrowth of the forest and towards him.
He repeats this over and over again with Angel, the young Huntress seemingly never getting tired.