So yeah… Hello. My name is Arthur. My few friends call me Art. It is my idle ponderings of the histories and The Nine which you had to endure just now. Ahem… Arthur Penrose I should say. Yes, those Penrose.
When the Nine arrived with their System, those bearing the name Penrose were granted a boon for something one of our long dead ancestors did with patterns. The boon: [Strong Patterns] makes any skill used by any of our name 5% more effective. Ours was not the only family to receive a boon. Many families did. It is not even the best family boon in the world. Some can fly thanks to their boon. Free like birds. Every adult enjoys at least one. Some due to the meaning of their first names. Some based on their personalities. Or something they did while growing up.
Semir enjoys her work.
Be that as it may. The Penrose boon has ensured that members of our family have, over the ages, risen to prominence in various fields. It is not as specifically powerful as many other personal boons. For example, the Armstrong family are physical powerhouses. But, combined with humanity’s racial bonus [Adaptability] - 10% extra experience from any source, it is versatile and has served many in the family well. And our family, for the most part, exceedingly well. When we work towards the same goals.
I, however, through dumb luck - Maybe better described as “misfortune” - Attained the class [Miner]. Which I thought was great when I received it on my 16th birthday. As a child I loved nothing better than crawling around in every nook and cranny I could find and digging up the garden to make little shallow dens to play out my childish fantasies in. I imagined great adventures and riches in the hidden pockets of the Earth. Endlessly frustrating my parent - Who invariably struggled to locate me again.
Reality has turned out to be… Less than glamorous. Caves in the wild are too dangerous for such activities. In settled territories I found myself essentially turned into a conscious, autonomous shovel. At this point I am thoroughly sick of the whole thing. And nobody is overly impressed by somebody who can move a few percent more rock than the next person. It has allowed me to attain a position as foreman at an established mining company at least.
So here I am. Standing in line with the leaders of the other teams in HQ to hand in our weekly report. Thank the Gods it is Friday. The weekend could not have arrived too soon.
My turn has just arrived.
-
“Mr. Penrose… I see that you have once again achieved lower than expected results.” The company manager states with one raised eyebrow, and a slight sneer of distaste. “You know the company accepted you into the fold because your family boon is supposed to raise your productivity above the norm. Your starting package was even tailored to this fact.” Whoa! He’s pulling out the big guns now. “Why then have you so regularly underachieved Mr. Penrose? At this rate we may as well replace you with Mrs. Dunning the tea lady who has no talent for mining activities of any kind. At the same salary. She’s a hard worker and should at the very least achieve normal results. Which at this point would be a net benefit to the company.”
A heavy blow. I must defend myself! “Mr. Alexander, sir. I know I did not do all that well this week…”
“This week Mr. Penrose?” He enquires with a faux expression of astonishment.
Ahem… “Yes sir, ah… That’s right! I know. There was that incident two weeks ago, the Tuesday, where my pantry stasis rune failed, and I had to get an [Enchanter] in to fix it.” I think for a bit. “And yes, there was the time…”
The glorified clerk rudely interrupts me. “What is it this time Mr. Penrose? Did your favorite jersey get hooked and torn on the way to work maybe? Did your big toe cramp up just as you were trying to put on your shoes?” The other foremen snigger at this jab. Ouch!
“Um… No sir. See…”
“Never mind Mr. Penrose!” My manager once again interrupts me. Geez. He is really wearing out my surname. He used to call me by my first name when I was just starting here. “We grow weary of your excuses.” I slump in defeat. “Please, for your own benefit, do try to fail at being an underperformer from now on.” He steeples his fingers together looking me squarly in the eye with his bushy brows raised just a tad. As if raising them any higher for my benefit would not be worth the effort. I try my best not to flinch. “Consider this your last warning Mr. Penrose.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
This is serious. Look at that face! He means business this time.
“Thank you, Mr. Alexander, sir. I hear you loud and clear. I will not disappoint you.”
“See that you do not Mr. Penrose. This is starting to reflect badly on me. How somebody with your heritage fell this low I really do not know. Are you sure that you are not adopted?”
I shake my head. To which he states: “Remarkable.”
I nod and excuse myself. Man... I think I heard the last vestiges of my self-respect disintegrate at one point during that whipping. I hate my life.
-
Shortly after I found myself walking dejectedly along Carten Road. There is a nice little Bistro called “Posto Gustoso” on the one corner where I hear a talented [Cook] is making a name for himself with his innovative dishes. The people in the know are saying they expect his class to be upgraded to [Chef] at a young age. I consider walking inside for moment. It is still an hour till D&D club starts, and I don’t have far to go… Indecision on what to do, battling for my attention with ruminations on the verbal lashing I received earlier has me standing there, just staring for almost a minute. They all look so happy.
Meh… I am not even hungry.
Forget the human condition. The Arthur Penrose condition is the pits! If my parents could see me now. They would likely disown me. We were not wealthy, so it would probably make no difference to my life, but they had their pride. May they rest in peace. For a moment there I am overcome with paranoia. Are they looking down on me now? Shaking their heads?
I shake my own head to clear such thoughts and decide rather just continue upon my not so merry way. If I get there early, then I will just hang out with some of the other losers of D&D club if any of them also pitch up early.
Sheesh. Even my favorite hobby sucks. Well okay, I enjoy it, but D&D is such an obscure, ancient, pastime from way back in the classical era, the game so laughably naïve compared to the reality of the actual System, that I am certain most people would laugh at me if they were to find out about it.
I snort thinking about it.
Screw them. I admire the System, but that does not mean I cannot play games with different rules to it. As I have told myself a hundred times. It is no different than the escape a lady, and surprisingly many gentlemen, might find in romantic novels. Those are hugely popular from what I can tell.
D&D is my thing. I do not care if some may think it is a sign of a malcontent. Heck! I am malcontent damn it! Look at my life. For all that I revere the Nine, I really got the short end of the stick.
Damned reasonable me. What could I do about it in any case?
I just find it remarkable that we came up with something even vaguely analogous with what The Nine did. It fascinates me! Okay?
-
The avatar of Rin for the Sol Reach sat down to order the latest amazing dish the owner of his new favorite restaurant in Helsing’s Crossing came up with. A remarkable concoction of pasta and sticky stewed fruits, along with beef cooked till it fell of the bone. Delicately enhanced by a carefully considered selection of herbs and spices. He was practically salivating. This was his guilty little sin. Taking human form and visiting the eateries of the crafty humans. The things they come up with!
The waiter arrives to take the order. After an agreeable length of time it arrives. Rin is practically salivating. Thinking about the explosion of new tastes that is soon to follow. He cannot wait to wash it down with a glass of the dry white he ordered to go with it.
“Today is going to be a good day.” He thinks to himself.
He was just about to dig in after tucking in his napkin when he noticed something. “Is that Arthur just standing there? Man, he looks beat! Hey Janur! What’s eating Arthur’s liver?” He sends her way telepathically.
As is her habit she immediately replies. “It’s that Alexander fellow he works for giving him a hard time again. Not that I blame the guy. According to Kerno our boy Arthur’s job performance has been decidedly lackluster.”
Rin grimaces. “Yeah… Semir really got it wrong with that one. The human talent to ask for the wrong things never ceases to amaze me. It is like they are born not once, but several times. At every stage with different ambitions. But I guess that’s one of the things about them that has so captivated my interest.”
Janur nods. “Do you think this will be a problem for our plans?”
Rin considers the question for a moment. “No. From what I have learnt about them I think tomorrow will go exactly as planned. I believe the time is ripe for our plans to come to fruition! - As they say.” He grins “Such a delightful language. Almost as delightful as this fruity dish I am about to enjoy."
Gair who had been listening in nods along. “Indeed. A creative bunch. Earth is my easiest gig in the local galactic cluster.”
Semir chips in at that. “You lucky bastard.”
"Now, now. You know you love the challenge." Toar fondly adds in her two cents. To which Semir just shrugs. Struggling to hide a smile.
“Yes.” Rin thinks to himself. “Tomorrow is going to be a day to remember. And there. Art seems to have gotten hold of himself and is off on his way again.”