The Drunken Gryphon reeked of stale ale, sweat, and roasted boar - a heady combination that would have sent his olfactory senses into overdrive if not for the lingering scent of ozone and burnt troll flesh clinging to his clothes. But hey, who was he to judge? After a day spent navigating the chaotic symphony of Everlight, a tavern brawl seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to unwind.
Speaking of chaotic symphonies, the common room was a masterpiece of organized chaos. A bard in the corner, bless his soul, was attempting to serenade the crowd with a lute ballad that was tragically losing the battle against the raucous laughter and drunken arguments erupting from every corner of the room. A group of orcs, their faces painted with intricate war markings and their voices loud enough to shatter glass, were engaged in an arm wrestling contest that threatened to demolish the entire establishment. A gaggle of goofy goblins, their beady eyes darting around like hyperactive squirrels, were huddled in a corner, no doubt plotting some mischief that would likely involve pickpocketing, explosives, or possibly a combination of both.
And then there were the adventurers. Ah, the adventurers. Clad in mismatched armor, their weapons gleaming with a mixture of blood and pride, they swaggered through the tavern like they owned the place, their voices booming with tales of daring exploits and near-death experiences. He overheard snippets of conversations about dragon slaying, dungeon crawling, and the occasional goblin-related mishap that involved a misplaced fireball and a singed beard. It was like stepping into a live-action roleplaying game, but with real consequences and a distinct lack of respawn points.
A firebrew materialized in front of him, courtesy of a bartender with the kind of situational awareness that suggested either precognition or really good tips. The potent concoction tasted like a dragon had sneezed in a barrel of fermented berries, but after the day he had had, Zaro needed something strong enough to numb the lingering fear of falling through another dimensional rift and landing in a clown dimension.
System notification. Mental fortitude required.
Status effect. Mild inebriation pending.
Warning. Drink responsibly.
He settled into a corner table, watching the tavern life unfold like an especially chaotic theater production. A party of young adventurers crowded around a table nearby, arguing over the best way to tackle their first dungeon. Their equipment looked fresh from the market, price tags practically still attached. Another group, weathered veterans by the look of their scars and enchanted gear, discussed something called the Whispering Caves in hushed, nervous tones.
That caught his attention. He focused his Void Sense, letting the ability filter through the ambient noise.
The more experienced group huddled over their table, voices low. Their leader, a battle-scarred dwarf, shook his head. The corruption there is spreading. Three silver ranked teams already turned back. Something in those caves is drawing power from the void itself.
Zaro nearly choked on his firebrew. Well, that explained a few things about his arrival. He made a mental note to definitely return there once he was stronger. Like, significantly stronger. Maybe after acquiring a full set of void-enchanted gear and possibly a small army.
The evening wore on, the common room growing more crowded as additional adventurers filtered in from their daily quests. Some celebrated successful hunts while others drowned the sorrows of failed missions. Through it all, Zaro observed, learning the unwritten rules of this new world.
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Guild rankings apparently mattered here. Bronze ranked adventurers tended to give silver ranks a wide berth, while gold ranked parties drew envious stares and whispered speculation about their latest achievements. He caught mentions of various factions, territories, and the politics that bound them all together. It was like an MMO social system come to life, but with real ale and significantly more stabbing.
His Void Sense occasionally pinged unusual energy signatures from weapons or armor, each one teaching him more about this world's magic. Some gear practically screamed with power while other pieces held subtler enchantments. One adventurer wore boots that seemed to bend space around them, while another carried a sword that hummed with elemental energy.
System notification. Equipment analysis available.
Basic enchantment recognition unlocked.
Note. Window shopping activated.
As the night progressed, the crowd thinned slightly. Those with early morning quests retired while the serious drinkers settled in for the long haul. That's when Zaro noticed them - three figures at a corner table whose equipment radiated power that made his Void Sense tingle.
The first was an Orc warrior who looked like he bench-pressed small buildings for fun. His curved warhammer leaned against the wall, its size suggesting it had been designed less for combat and more for remodeling castle walls. The Orc was regaling a small audience with what seemed to be an increasingly embellished tale of monster slaying.
Beside him sat an Elf ranger, her bow unstrung but within easy reach. She cleaned her arrows with methodical precision, occasionally rolling her eyes at the Orcs' more outrageous claims. Her gear spoke of someone who valued efficiency over flash, though the void energy in her quiver suggested these were not ordinary arrows.
The third member of their party, a human mage whose hat seemed to be compensating for something, interrupted the Orcs story with frequent corrections and arcane terminology. His robes sparkled with enough enchantments to power a small city, and he adjusted his hat with the air of someone who practiced the gesture in mirrors.
They were obviously experienced, their gear alone suggesting high-rank status, but something about them felt more approachable than the other veteran teams. Maybe it was the way they actually seemed to enjoy each other's company, their bickering carrying the tone of old friends rather than just business partners.
Zaro nursed his drink, considering his options. He needed to join a guild eventually, and finding a solid team would make that process easier. These three had clearly survived their fair share of adventures together. Plus, anyone who could tolerate that mages constant hat adjusting probably had the patience of saints.
He stood, gathering his courage and what remained of his dignity. Time to introduce himself and hope they didn't immediately identify him as the newbie he was. He approached their table just as the Orc reached what seemed to be the climax of his tale.
And there I was, he boomed, facing down three hill giants with nothing but my trusty hammer and a questionable understanding of gravity!
The ranger sighed. It was one giant, Ramrod. And you had help.
Details, details, the Orc - Ramrod - waved dismissively. The story sounds better my way.
The mage snorted into his drink. None of your stories sound better your way. They just get progressively more impossible.
Zaro cleared his throat. Pardon the interruption, but I couldn't help overhearing. You wouldn't happen to be looking for another team member? He gave what he hoped was a confident smile rather than the nervous grin it felt like.
The mage looked him up and down, his expression suggesting he found Zaro about as impressive as a wet sock. And what exactly could you bring to our illustrious group?
Ramrod elbowed the mage. Now Chad, give the lad a chance. He has that look in his eye.
What look? Chad adjusted his hat again.
The look of someone who has already survived something they probably shouldn't have, the ranger said quietly, her keen eyes studying Zaro with newfound interest. I am Ezra, she added. The loud one is Ramrod, and our fashion-challenged friend here is Chad.
Zaro bowed slightly. My name is Zaro. As for what I bring to the team... He smiled, letting void energy flicker around his fingers. Let's just say I have a rather unique skill set.
The void energy drew their attention immediately. Chad leaned forward, scholarly interest overwhelming his previous disdain. Interesting. Very interesting. What class exactly produces that particular energy signature?
Voidwalker, Zaro replied.
The three exchanged glances. Ramrod grinned broadly. Well now, that's not something you see every day. Pull up a chair, lad. I think we have some discussing to do.
As Zaro settled into what would become his regular seat at their table, he felt another system notification ping.
Achievement unlo
cked. Squad Goals
First team formation initiated
Note. Try not to die first