Vraxious- Hopes Path- Adventurers Guild
The foyer Loomed in front of Vrax like a scene from his favorite tales as a child. Storied wooden floors layered with grime and blood over the decades that no matter how much one scrubbed, stains remained. A barely separate tavern filled with heavily armored men, women, and fantastical summons lurked on the left side of the lobby. A sky eel sinuously writhed through the air, winding between tables, and settled on the shoulder of what appeared to be a dwarf armored in sheets of water. A barkeeper who looked more like an artist's perfect idea of a human than any real man deftly slid mugs up and down the bar, occasionally floating them through the air to gently land on tables with the wave of a hand.
Vrax and Torvald both stumbled forward in a bit of a daze at the sheer density of unique figures around them. They had to weave their way past a pair of elven twins in immaculate matching white robes with black trim who were arguing about the best way to evolve a skill. Then they both got jostled as a man easily as tall as Torvald wearing the thickest plate armor they had ever seen simply walked between them rather than around to make it out the door.
Vrax swept wide around the room, coming around to the guild clerk counter, expecting to see a comely lass with the kind of smile that men fought over. Instead, he found himself eye level with a very bare-chested man who could probably store a potion within his very…generous mass. Vrax almost recoiled from the barbarian picking chicken from his teeth with the drumstick remnant but put on his best happy-to-be-here face. Torvald stifled a laugh behind him. Vrax halfway glanced back. That asshole told me I would weep upon seeing the chest of the guild clerk here. Ha ha, very funny, you big fucker.
The corpulent man belched and threw the bone over his shoulder, and then, with a big smile, still very full of chicken, addressed Vrax, “New blood, aye! I remember that lad coming to register just a bit ago.” He pointed at Torvald. “Although when he said he would be coming back with a friend, I expected someone less…plantey…agh, where are my manners? “Gorub, I’m the clerk most of the time here in between bedding lasses and slaying monsters, of course.” He gave a very hearty laugh at his own joke. Vrax actually stepped half a step back; bits of chicken had gotten him in the face.
With a grimace, Vrax kept his tone even. “Wonderful to meet you, Vraxious, but everyone calls me Vrax. I’m here to register and get a dungeon pass.” Torvald stepped up next to him.
“Dungeon pass for me too, please. Also need to update my Sigil.” Torvald pulled a thick amulet from around his neck and slammed it on the counter. It was a fine wooden texture with the symbol of the adventurer's guild on it: an outstretched hand receiving coins and another hand holding a flaming sword.
Gorub looked then up and down. “Alright, guild registration is five silver, and a dungeon month pass is one gold coin. Big guy, we will update your sigil when we get him one. Follow me.”
Gorub led them out a side door into what looked like a clerk's office. Scattered stacks of paperwork covered the floor and the desk. An extra table was pushed into a corner near the desk to make even more room for paper towers. A harried-looking man with weedy hair and a small stature looked over the glasses on his nose as they came in. He abruptly gestured to a pair of mostly clear chairs in front of him and pulled out some forms as well as an inkwell.
In a well-rehearsed cadence, only half paying attention, he began a spiel: “Welcome, new recruits. The adventurers guild is a neutral entity that spans most civilized nations as such, we take no part in wars or succession conflicts. Sign this first form to state you acknowledge this, and any and all actions taken in either border wars or succession challenges will have absolutely nothing to do with us.” He slid a paper toward Vrax with no further explanation. Vrax quickly skimmed it and signed.
“Wonderful,” the man stated with zero enthusiasm. He shuffled the paper back and pulled another three out.
“All new recruits are required to remove any status-obscuring items and submit to a class and level inspection. This will be stored in our records, but we will never share this information with an outside government without your permission. If you have a passive effect that hinders standard identification methods, we can make an appointment for a high-tier inspector.” He stared expectantly at Vrax.
“Uhh, yeah, man, go ahead.” "Vrax said quickly and signed the first of three forms before him."
“Wonderful.” The man deadpanned, then with a slight flash of mana as he used a skill, his expression went from barely contained apathy to a slight curious quirk to his brow. “To confirm, Vraxious, you are a Level Four full combat class Paladin designation, unique rarity?”
Gorub, behind them, half choked on whatever scraps he was eating. “Did you fucking say the plant kid is a Unique Paladin?” Gorub sputtered.
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“Don't interrupt, please, Gorub.” The clerk's tone became slightly sharp as he gave the looming barbarian a withering glare. Gorub settled back down to being a silent observer, looking at Vrax with a newfound caution.
Vrax smiled. “Yes, sir, that is correct.” He signed off on the next sheet that was slid to him.
The cleric took a sip from a mug hidden slightly below the desk, then cleared his throat. “Alright, Mr. Vraxious, here is the official spiel I’m required to give all the new guys. The ranks are wooden, copper, silver, and gold. Beyond that, you require a tier-2 class of at least level twenty-six. Those are platinum, mythril, and radiant. As a wooden rank, you are a provisional member; your performance on all contracts you take will be scrutinized to make sure you are a good fit for the guild. Obey all local rules and customs; we are not immune to any local laws. Welcome to the adventurers guild.” The clerk took a long breath after getting all of that out in a single go.
He took off his glasses and crossed his legs and arms, sitting back in his chair, finally paying full attention to Vrax. “Unofficially, don’t make life hard for the rest of us. As Hope’s Path’s guildmaster, I have enough to do without covering for new idiots’ mistakes. My name is Lento, and before you ask, I'm platinum ranked and a mage. Now, you both wanted to go into the dungeon?
Vrax paled a bit, realizing the very unassuming clerk before them could probably kill him with a snap of the fingers. “Yes, sir, that is correct. We hoped to gain some levels and funds before returning home to Hopes End and going back into the forest.”
The guild master cracked a smile. “Well, I don’t recommend people delve into that rather wicked place until the fiftieth level at a minimum, but considering you are locals, I’m going to assume you have a plan. Not my business if you die there, however! It is my business if you die in the dungeon. Normally you aren't allowed in even with combat classes until you both are level ten. The city officials don’t like it when the nobles send their kids here, and the overconfident fools get savaged by the first floor. The dungeon doesn’t belong to the guild; it belongs to the city. We just manage some of the business aspects for them.”
Vrax's and Torvald's expressions both fell. Vrax interjected, “But sir, we have…” The guild master held up a hand to stop him.
“But I am allowed to have exemptions to this rule on the condition that you go with a higher-level babysitter and successfully clear the first floor without aid.” He took another sip from his mug, thoughtfully looking towards Gorub, then shaking his head.
“I have someone in mind who needs to make up for making a real mess out of his last contract. He isn’t the best people person, but he will keep you alive if you aren’t as prepared as you look. Now remember, the dungeon is sentient; it mostly adheres to its own rules. The challenges get harder the farther in you delve, but occasionally it just really decides it doesn’t like someone, or maybe it’s bored, who knows? But when it does that, you can run into some very dangerous things thrown in with the minor rabble even on the topmost floors.”
Vrax absorbed everything he had just had thrown at him. “Thank you sir, not to be ungrateful, but why so easily offer us an exemption?”
The guildmaster cracked a smile. “I may have placed a bet last time I was visiting my old friend Cedric on a foolish boy becoming a combat class. that just surprisingly paid out an unexpected windfall. And unique classes are rare. If I can start you out in my debt at least a little, that’s good for me. Now pay the loudmouth behind you and be at the main entrance to the dungeon at noon tomorrow.” He quickly updated Torvald's sigil and handed Vrax one of his own. Then, without another word, he dived back into the stacks of paperwork, acting as if they had already left the room.
They went back out to the main room, the feeling of his new adventurer sigil heavy in Vrax’s hand. With a smile he looped it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. Next to where Torvald was paying Gorub, a huge cork pinboard with different colored borders stretched down half the length of the room. The job posting board, Vrax made his way over to the smallish section with a plain dark wooden border.
He began feverishly browsing, his smile slowly fading to a frown as he shifted from job to job. Dire rats clear my basement for 2 silver. Another one read need fire toad saliva, one jar—1 silver." Vrax incredulously read the highest-paying one towards the right side of the board: "Wayward Forsaken wolf hunting near my fields, proof of kill—9 silver." Torvald shifted up next to him and started browsing the jobs as well, his face doing the same thing Vraxes's had.
“Torvald, we need to get out of wood rank as fast as possible. These jobs are fucking awful, the highest paying is nine silver. Is that a joke?” Vrax stepped away from the job board with a distasteful look on his face.
“Nah, folks know fresh-faced adventurers will do whatever the hell they throw at them for crumbs to climb the ranks. I mean, nine silver is almost a week's wages for a skilled craftsman, but when most healing potions cost close to a gold….” Torvald trailed off.
“Yeah, if you actually got hurt hunting the wolf, you would probably end up in the negative unless a healer in town felt really generous. What was it that guide you read said about ways to leave wood rank? I’m surprised the guildmaster didn’t go over that. To be fair, though, that guy seemed solidly in the “not having a good time” category of overworked." Vrax had gotten the same guide from Gorub, but he hadn’t had the chance to read it yet.
Torvald opened a stubby, thin rules and regulations book, thumbing through to one of his cloth bookmarks. “Ah, here it is, normal advancement…complete three quests of wooden rank, then six copper, nine silver, etc., etc.” He read on for a bit longer, going way forward in the book and then back to where he started. “Ah. Completing a quest of a rank above either through killing the target or bringing required goods, you can't officially accept it until you are that rank, though, so someone could snatch it from under you. Oh...apparently killing a dungeon boss from a sanctioned dungeon of level fifty or higher automatically makes you eligible for silver. Same with level 100 and gold.”
Vrax eyed the copper job board greedily. Later, Vrax. For now, let's get to the dungeon and see what all the fuss is about.