Zone: Central Dewalt

Location: Lemond’s Crossing – Edacity Guild, Dewalt Chapter

Lore: (Specific) Supported by its centralized location, the Dewalt Chapter of Edacity is the organization’s first and largest campus. As such, Edacity has turned Lemond’s Crossing into a focal point for those seeking to engage in the more visceral experiences available on the island. The finest food, liquor, and even intimate companionship are for sale here… if one knows where to look and how to ask. The guild’s founder, Douglas Hale, still plays a part in its operation, though much of his day-to-day responsibilities have since been delegated to other, newer members. While some in the Lemond’s Crossing government blame Edacity for the concerning rise in Vegna addiction, guild leaders vehemently maintain their innocence on the subject.

Starting Town

Restrictions: Guild Membership required

“Oh,” said D, but Vannin was too nervous to notice. His attention was trained elsewhere. Mostly on the location of the nearest exit.

Edacity’s Freshman Lounge was an opulent sitting room featuring rows of plush velvet couches, polished mahogany servers brimming with mismatched crystal decanters, eclectic works of paint and stone, and dozens of… comfortably dressed men and women of varying age and race. Drifts of pipe tobacco crawled through the air, twirling like ballroom dancers in the wake of passing attendants. Gaudy curtains guarded against the intrusive day but did little to mute the incessant chatter and unapologetic laughter. And though Vannin could neither taste nor smell the cacophonous atmosphere, the heavy air clung to his throat with every breath.

The waiting, though... that was the worst part. What if, after all his effort, the leaders of Edacity decided to not even see him? What if he’d taken too long to find the [Swine’s Esse], and they wanted nothing to do with someone incapable of completing one of their quests in a timely manner? What if they’d heard about his inability to taste or smell, and didn’t see any value in working with someone with a disability so antithetical to their philosophy? What if, like that bastard Justin, they just took one look at him and decided he wasn’t worthy of respect?

Seated on the left side of a spacious couch, Vannin nibbled on the remnants of a piece of [Stale Bread]. After the sixth or seventh piece, he’d lost count of how many he’d eaten and D had quickly grown tired of him asking if he’d finally sated his Hunger, eventually barking out a simple ‘no’ just as he’d finished swallowing each new piece.

“Your Hunger is at zero, Master. More food will only be wasted.”

“Right.” He crushed the rest between his palms, and with no remaining Durability, the [Stale Bread] turned to dust and evaporated. Rubbing his belly, he wondered how normal people experienced fullness. Did it announce itself with some sort of physical signal? Discomfort? Pain? A general sense of well-being? He didn’t know. Because of his inability to feel, the only recognizable signal his gut ever sent was the gurgling rumble of mounting Hunger. He relied entirely on D for everything else.

“Oh,” said D again, this time with a touch of insistence.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

The little orb brightened, bouncing up and down in the air excitedly. “I have messages for you! Would you like to hear them?”

“That’s why you- Next time just tell me you have a message!”

D bobbed up and down. “Of course, Master.”

For some reason, Vannin didn’t believe him.

“Well, what have you got for me?”

The orb turned stark white and stilled. “Newest or oldest first?”

“Uh...oldest, I guess?”

“Very well! Your first message is a friend request from an Atrea Walscott. Is this someone you know? How would you like me to respond?”

Atrea? That Minos girl? Vannin frowned. “What’s a ‘friend request’?”

D floated about in a lazy circle. “Well...it’s kind of like a spiritual connection between you and another person. It makes it easier for you to find one another. Friends always know if their other friends are around.”

Weird. Atrea hadn’t exactly struck him as someone who really liked other people. He cocked his head. Then again, she did say she was waiting for a friend of hers to show up.

He shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. What do I do?”

“Just say if you want to accept it or not.”

“Oh. I accept?”

D brightened again. “Done. Atrea Walscott has been added to your friend’s list. Congratulations on your very first friend, Master!”

"Please," he sighed. “Please. Van or Vannin.”

“Of course, Master! Up next, with have another friend request just now from a Norik Florrik. Is this someone you know? How should I respond?”

Vannin sank back into the plush cushions, crossing his arms as the fabric hugged his body. Norik may have been obnoxious, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Not like the three that had come to gloat over the man’s failure to climb the clock tower. And as mad as Vannin had been about his broken chest piece, that was really no one’s fault but his own.

Four game years without one friend request, and now two in one day? In truth, he didn’t really know Norik any better than he knew Atrea, and he had accepted her request. Why stop now?

“I… accept.”

He regretted it immediately.

D flickered briefly, fading in and out like a light bulb nearing the end of its lifespan. Its normally white glow waned blue, and it wobbled in its orbit.

“D?” he said, sitting up in his seat. “Hey, are you okay?”

A pair of smiling cat girls in nearly sheer white robes glided past his sofa, giggling quietly to one another as they looked him up and down. Blushing, Vannin averted his eyes and did his absolute best to feed his entire body to the cushions. (1)

“Yeah. I’m okay.” The orb flickered again. “I mean… I think so at least. How would I know? I-”

With a flash of white light, D dropped like a stone.

Cold fear, like being doused in frigid water, crashed into him. Vannin’s reflexes took over. With his arms outstretched, he dove across the cushion, cupping his hands to catch D like the little daimon was nothing more than sphere of delicate glass. He surfed across the yielding velvet, barely getting his palms out beneath his friend in time to catch him.

D brightened, stalling in the air mere inches above Vannin’s hands.

“Master?” it said quizzically, rising in the air to occupy its previous position.

“D? What was that?”

A ripple of light washed across D from top to bottom. “Hmm. I’m not sure. That did feel a little odd.”

“But you’re okay?”

“I think so.” The little orb drifted over to his side, alighting on the seat cushion like an oversized firebug. “This is very exciting! Two new names to add to your friend’s list, Master.”

“I guess,” he said, keeping a wary eye on his friend. Whatever had happened may have just been a temporary glitch, but he hoped it didn’t happen again. Gremlins, indeed.

“I’m your friend, too. How come I’m not on your friend’s list?”

“That’s different. You’re not… that’s…” He trailed off. It felt odd telling a computer program they weren’t friends, but not quite as odd as having a computer program pose such an uncomfortable question.

D continued as though Vannin had never spoken. “Oh, you know what? I think I see the problem. You have to have a name to be on someone’s friend list.”

Vannin rolled his eyes. “We just talked about this.”

“You promised.”

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“I know, I know. Once I get accepted into this guild, I will find someone to help me do the naming ritual.”

A stiff attendant approached carrying a high-backed chair with armrests carved in the shape of lion paws. The uniformed Heem, likely an NPC purchased by the guild to perform menial tasks, placed the chair opposite the sofa without a word before exiting in the exact same manner as he entered. Vannin looked around, expecting one of Edacity’s leaders to follow in on the attendant’s heels, but saw no one.

Sure like to keep people waiting.

“In related news,” said D, perking up once more, “your new Experience Debt(2) total is 27,325.”

"What-" Vannin jerked to attention. “Keep it down! I do not need these people to know about that!”

“That’s a lot of ground to make up before you’ll be able to perform the naming ritual.” D shifted to a pronounced yellow color. “You’re still ranked 1st for the largest Experience Debt among players in the Dewalt Region, but did you know? You’re now 7th overall, up from 11th as a result of your most recent death.”

He snatched the glowing orb out of the air and smothered it with a pillow. The expansive room was noisy enough that he doubted anyone would have heard the embarrassing exchange, but that didn’t keep him from anxiously looking checking. All around, men puffed out their chests and raised their glasses, boasting unintelligibly to their enraptured peers. Women whispered to one another as they picked at platters burgeoning with exotic fruits. Fingertips tickled flesh in shadowed corners. Engaged. Oblivious. Not at all concerned with Vannin and his overly talkative invisible friend.

His breath whistled across thinly parted teeth.

All but one.

At the rim of the room, standing at the foot of a curved staircase, a black-haired Heem clothed in layers of varying shades of gray watched him intently, each hand gripping firmly its opposing forearm. His sharp features and unflinching glare lent him a raptor-esque quality, like a hawk perched on a fencepost over a field of unsuspecting mice. In this den of slovenly comfort and unchecked extravagance, the dour Heem stood out like a straight line in nature, order amid hedonistic chaos.

Vannin squirmed uncomfortably beneath the weight of his stare.

“I must say,” said a jovial, mildly effeminate male voice, startling his attention away from the distant observer. D took that opportunity to shake free of his grasp, zipping quickly out of reach. “I don’t know how much I trust a man with access to all of this lovely liquor that doesn’t at least attempt to sneak a little taste.”

Wiggling his stubby fingers in anticipation, a stereotypical pointy-eared Lleywin sashayed past his sofa, bumping against the server with his potbelly as he picked through the decanters. Glass jostled as his bulbous fingers danced across decorative stoppers. As Lleywin were generally slight, lithe creatures roughly the same height as a Heem, Vannin found the man’s rotund stomach and hairy arms rather out-of-place.

Like someone glued sharpened ears to a teddy bear.

The man poured himself a glass of golden liquor, splashing almost as much on his hands as he did the fluted snifter. The man giggled, wiping his hands on his robe. “Whoopsie! I’d pour you a glass, young man, but it seems I’ve spilled your share.”

“Pity you didn’t spill your own.” The nasally voice spoke up from somewhere around his knees, and Vannin was surprised to see a similarly clothed green and blue caterpillar pattering across the carpet toward them. At roughly the height of a medium-sized dog, its robe dragged behind it like a wedding train. It crawled up on the sofa beside Vannin, curling around itself to use its lower body as a chair back. “I’m certain Pamblen wouldn't be offended if you at least attempted to remain upright during daylight hours.”

“What a beautiful creature,” gushed D, fading to muted pink color.

Vannin’s eyes stretched wide. “You… you can talk?”

“Baha!” The pot-bellied man nearly choked. “The real miracle is getting him to stop.”

One of the caterpillar’s many stubby legs idly scratched its exposed stomach. “The same could be said for your drinking.”

“Ugh, I’m surrounded by prudes.” The Lleywin plopped down in the chair opposite Vannin and sipped from his snifter, his pinkie extended toward the ceiling. With a coo of approval, he reached out to Vannin as he spoke. “Still, I do love meeting new people. I, young man, am Ulrich Annandur, journeyman alchemist and unrepentant lush. I was ever so excited to hear that someone had taken up our dreadful little quest and returned triumphant from the wilds.”

He shook Ulrich’s limp hand. “Vannin.”

The man tilted his head expectantly. “Vannin…?”

“Oh. Garrett. Vannin Garrett.”

“Delighted,” he gushed, leaning back in his chair. “My squishy, terminally sober companion here is known only as Puapo, though I assume no responsibility for that fateful tongue twister. Lay that at the feet of the Reaper. At your own risk, of course.”

The caterpillar produced a small fan from inside its robe, using it to wave off Vannin’s attempt at a handshake. “Quite pleased, I’m certain. But what of your friend? Have you blessed it with a name yet?”

"Not yet. But… you can see it? I didn’t think anyone but its master could see an unnamed daimon.”

"A fellow Aquanuat?" Ulrich clapped his hands excitedly, sloshing liquor this way and that. "How truly exciting!”

Nodding, the handsome caterpillar flicked open his fan. “Mature daimon prefer ‘handler’, not ‘master’. As we evolve, so too does our intelligence and sense-of-self blossom, such that a fully realized daimon barely resembles the creature it began as. But you are correct. Only other daimon share a kinship that allows us to recognize one another, no matter our state of maturity. What my handler here is oblivious to, I can see quite clearly.”

“Wow,” Vannin said, awestruck by the talking caterpillar. It took every ounce of his willpower not to reach out and poke the creature in its exposed belly, just to confirm it was really there. “D told me he had the ability to one day take a specific shape, but I had no idea daimon could wear clothes, use items, or even carry on a conversation with anyone other than their ma...uh, their handler.”

"D?" The fan clicked closed. “This is what you call it?”

He nodded.

Ulrich scoffed, interjecting before Puapo could press the young man further. “Your misdirected attention wounds me, young man. And here I am, sacrificing valuable leisure time in exchange for a cold shoulder.”

Vannin anxiously straightened, scooting to the edge of his seat. “I’m sorry, Master Annandur! It’s just, I’ve never met-”

“Yes, yes. My friendly caterpillar is truly fascinating, of that I’m aware.” He sighed, swirling the liquor in his glass. “I was told you had something for me. A certain rare item?”

Before setting out for the guild, Vannin had made a quick stop at the local market, and without all the extraneous loot clogging up his pack, reaching in to retrieve the [Swine’s Esse] was a simple affair.

“Ooo,” Ulrich mewed, clapping his hands. “The very thing itself! Did you know that quest has been renewed on five separate occasions, and yet you are the first to ever successfully make it this far! I had almost given up hope.”

He stood, peering deep into the smokey green orb as he waddled back over to the long server. He set down his snifter and pulled an empty leather pouch from within his robes, slipping the [Swine’s Esse] inside and drawing it closed with his teeth. Next, a silver-gilt hammer emerged from his robes, and with a tap to the pouch, Vannin winced as the [Swine’s Esse] shattered.

“Make it this far?” he asked, watching Ulrich empty the pouch’s contents into a flask of some unknown clear liquid. “Don’t you mean ‘successfully finished’?”

Ulrich chuckled, swirling the mixture round and round until the powdered [Swine’s Esse] had completely dissolved. “My dear boy, that first leg of the quest line was merely the audition, to see if the applicant possessed both the patience and resourcefulness to find the item in question. You see, [Swine’s Esse] has rather unique spawn conditions. It has no actual drop rate, per se. While it must be retrieved from a very specific type of mob, the rules around getting it to spawn focus more on the seeker than the target.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You see, an Esse is a marriage of two worlds.” The pot-bellied man sank back into his chair. He lifted the strange potion to eye level, admiring how the room’s muted light seemed magnified by the metallic green flecks suspend within the bottle. “A mixture of our world with that of the Earthen Realm. Persistence is one of the defining features of Earth. The ability to withstand the ages, to withstand change, to stay the course. As such, the seeker must also persist, must stay the course until the [Swine’s Esse] appears.

“You have proven your grit, young seeker. Proven you possess not just the ability to find the unfindable, but that you bear the strength of will, the temperance we are looking for.” He held the potion out for Vannin to take. “All that’s left for you now is to finish what you started.”

There’s more?! “How many more steps are there?”

“Just the one.”

Vannin stroked his chin. He’d already invested so much of his time and energy. What was a little bit more?

He reached for the flask, but Ulrich pulled back.

“There is… one thing you must know before you move forward. What we have here is no simple tincture. Contained within this bottle is a covenant.”

It was D’s turn to chime in. “A covenant?”

Ulrich nodded. “Once enacted, you agree to finish what you begin, and in failing to do so, you will fall victim to a particularly nasty curse called Fool’s Penance.” He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “Those who suffer the consequences of Fool’s Penance will have their current level reverted back to the starting point of the previous level. This is the terrible price one pays for biting off more than they can chew.”

Frowning, Vannin retracted his hand. He didn’t exactly understand what it meant to lose a level, but he was certain he didn’t want to ask Ulrich and appear ignorant. Perks, ability and skill points… these all seemed to increase independently of one another and of the experience he acquired from adventuring. They leveled, so to speak, through use. But it didn’t sound like Ulrich was referring to that.

Not like it matters. If I don’t succeed in joining Edacity, I only have one other thing to try to see if my senses are completely broken, and the only resource THAT requires is a heaping amount of cor. He squeezed his money pouch. Which I already have.

Nodding in agreement, Vannin took the flask from Ulrich’s hand. “So… what now?” Making a sour face, he held the potion high. “Please tell me I don't have to drink this.”

“No, no, no. Not unless you want to turn to stone, I mean.” He laughed, a full belly-clutching chortle. “It’s a splash potion. Return to where you received the [Swine’s Esse] and break it on the ground. Do this, and the quest’s denouement will come to you. But move quickly, for this quest has but days left before it expires, and you will have to wait until next season to try again.”

Pulling his robes about him, Ulrich rose from his chair. “May Pamblen walk at your side.” With a sweeping curtsy, the pot-bellied Lleywin swept out of the room. Puapo trailed not far behind, shaking his head the whole way.

“Try not to die,” said the caterpillar as he passed. “I should very much like to meet the daimon your friend is meant to become, and sooner rather than later.”

As Ulrich and his daimon left, Vannin looked for the stern man that had been watching him from the foot of the stairs, but he was nowhere to be seen.

His little lightorb floated into view. “Master?”

Vannin tapped the flask against his palm. “Yes, D?”

“You’re getting kinda hungry.”