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Well, that was useless. Xu Jian's idea of shoving her shaft where it didn't below didn't pan out in the slightest. Thanks to the... astute(?) observations by their only party member that was actually thinking about their scenario, it would appear that they would have to actually venture through the doors to the next area to proceed.

And past those doors was death. Less in a literal sense, more in a "this is graveyard aesthetics" sense. There was something in there with them. That odd dragging noise... Probably a zombie or a very belligerent grave digger. This was a graveyard aesthetic rift, after all. Also it stunk like ass and death, which was pretty gross. Charlotte, immortal as she was, decided to go headfirst into danger. Xu Jian gave a shrug of acceptance as she commanded (actually suggested) the party to check out the building. If Xu Jian's game sense was anything to go by, that building either had treasure, enemies, or lead to an underground mausoleum in which the dungeon would continue. Either way, they were probably supposed to go to it.

"Okie dokie chokiefolkie." She said in her weird, always-an-inside-joke-but-never-tells-you-the-origin way. Then she went towards the stone building. Really, it was that simple.
I'm liking the variety in weapon specialization we have this time, too.


erode specifically told me not to use a sword when i told 'em my interest

Floor 2


The party had decided on a mostly safe route. Thankfully, the map was true to the actual layout. While things were occasionally closer or further than they appeared, they ran into little trouble on their way to the third floor. The party was unable to decide on a single way, so they ended up taking a mix of both routes. Luckily, they were practically the same routes; Varanense simply suggested a longer way around Kori's route. It didn't quite matter, however. Both rooms ended up intersecting at multiple points, so it was a lot simpler to take Kori's way. Still, the party went out of their way once or twice only to spot nothing of note.

They safely reached the entrance to the third floor; another hole in the ground with a rope heading downwards. One by one, they went down.


Floor 3



The third floor was similar to the first two. After all, there was little variance between the first four floors. The most notable changes were that the earth was no longer pure dirt. The occasional sharp rock and random hole gave way to break the bland silhouettes of each room. The bright blue lights that had listlessly floated in each room and hall were slightly darker—something that only the catlike eyes of Kori could easily notice. Really, it was just more of the same. Let Penn fumble around her maps for a second as she found the right one, then just find a good route to the next floor.

Except it wasn't going to be that easy.

As the party gained foothold in the trapezoidal room, a large, mud-covered tail had erupted from the ground. About the size two men long, the tail hooked around the unsuspecting Kori and pulled her into a hole. Thanks to a mixture of half-plate and the cat-warrior's innate vitality, she was relatively unharmed from the pull. Save for the fact that she being pulled into a hole, Kori was no worse for wear.

That's when Kori saw it. A large lizard four men long was waiting for her inside. Its maw reached across its head, seemingly large enough easily fit a man in its gullet. This was no ordinary lizard, nor was this a floor boss. No, this lizard didn't belong on the third floor. In fact, the lizard came from somewhere further than any of the adventurers had previously reached.

If there was one thing for certain, it would be that this was no time to slack off.


The show was loud and bombastic. In some ways, it reminded Marina of her old life. Before it all happened. It was all just meaningless aesthetics, though. The comparisons of fighting people on a professional stage and manic-punk-metal started and ended at passion. One band played after another. Marina would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy it. Even though she wasn't one for watching this kind of thing, she could easily see why people enjoyed it. It almost made her forget. Almost.

The last band to play was what that host had told her: the Quartermasters. He played the drums. His hair was the same. His face was the same. His piercings were the same. Everything was the same. Everything. For the entire set, Marina froze. Bravery was fleeting. Simple images and dreams of revenge were nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh.

It was him.

He was there. Watching her, as she was frozen. He participated. That old, dull kitchen knife piercing her skin. He cut deep into her stomach with that knife. Up and down it went, recklessly tearing skin and flesh with great effort. He was the one. The suffering seared her assailants into her mind/ He killed her. Her pulse wavered as her blood flowed out of her wounds. He opened her flesh. He curiously poked around inside, just to see what was going on. He was her killer. Along with the rest of them, they watched and laughed as her arms and legs were taken as trophies. It was his fault. She just couldn't die; not just yet. No, it was all of their fault.

Hurk...

Her hand was already covering her mouth. She could barely hear Yasuo. Not over that ringing. She couldn't see. Light was dark. Everything was fuzzy. It was difficult to make sense out of any sort of shape. She had to get out. She ran out of Galaxy. The second she left that building, her mouth opened to unleash a torrent of undigested booze. No, it wasn't sickness or drunkenness. It was reflex. She remembered what happened.

But she couldn't stop because of it. She still had something she needed to do. It didn't matter who was there. She had to continue. So she steeled herself and walked back in. She might be able to catch him after he left talking to those girls. That's what she thought, anyways. What did Yasuo say again? Something about the plan?

"Letting what happens happen." She faintly choked out.
Arachne || Judith Astera



...

...

...

Fuah? What was going on? Where was Judith? What was going on?

One blink followed another. She slowly became more recognizant of her surroundings. Her scattered memories had begun to reform. Right, she had been in the library. What was that book she was reading? Wasn't it titled something like 'Ethics in Civilian Rescue' or...? Well, whatever it was, it put Judith to sleep. One paragraph and she was out like a light. Well, it wasn't too interesting. With a great stretch and yawn, she went to pick up the book and put it back. No sense keeping a book that you wouldn't read. That was just rude to people who wanted to read about ethics in civilian rescue.

That's when someone caught her eye. Well, less 'caught her eye' and more 'was directly in her line of sight.' After lazily getting up from her chair, she now faced a girl with soft blue hair. She gave a halfhearted wave to a boy some distance away. Judith, however, was sitting directly in between the two of them. Her eyes had met Eira's as she rose and, with her head slightly cocked with slight recognition, gave a small wave back.

While Judith had recognized her as being part of the same class, they had not spoken before. The soft-blue haired woman had a... particular look about her. But that look...

"... Sour?"


Well, they didn't fight in the middle of the town. That was a good sign. Though, that only meant that Renauld's expectations had plummeted down deep. Well, 'keep it to himself' was his mantra. His newfound companions got into some antics from their pure manic energy including (but not limited to) eating a chicken from a burlap sack, disrobing a small child, and getting very angry about stolen introductions. All Renauld could do in response was smile and give a slight chuckle. Oscar, the other straight man of the group, had suggested they go out on a meal to feed the starved priestess.

"Sorry but I think I'll be busy with prep."

Renauld would not take the ranger up on his offer.




His preparations were complete. In a sturdy gunny sack, he had three bricks of pemmican, some hardtack, a small scrap of iron and flint, a small bottle of clear booze, and a water bladder. All and all, the entire travel package cost him a silver. As the only saying went, you had to spend money to make money. His equipment was rather sparse, but that was because it was for only him. The hunter would usually have to prepare things like a shelter or the fire itself, so he could afford to prep lightly. For the most part. In a pinch, he might be able to make something like an igloo. What was the most important thing was, however, not dying in the god forsaken cold. His winter gear that he already owned would suffice. He didn't need to stay warm to keep his mobility. He was a mage, after all.

He did load up his calories, though. Not enough to make him feel sick, but enough to make him feel like he would be satiated in the biting cold.

Soon he arrived at the recruiting office to meet up with his party. Then he moved with them to the granary. The page gave them a basic rundown of everything. Don't die and do deliver. Those were the basics of the operation. All they had to do was load up the cart then haul ass to the fort. Katya had, meanwhile, flopped. In an attempt at lifting grain, she had fallen only to bounce back up. She was tenacious, Renauld could give her that. She struggled to lift it, but she did end up picking it up. Ettamri had, at the turnip's request, picked chosen a cart and given Renauld the 'weak mage job' of loading the cart. Well, he was decent at that. He was also decent at ignoring the overt threat that Ettamri had delivered to the group.

Picking up a sack of grain from one of the holes, he lifted it to the cart. He placed it directly in the corner, making a note of how much space it took in the bed of the cart. Quickly counting and doing some napkin math, he guesstimated the amount of bags that could fit inside of it.

"About 40 bags? 50 if we use the tarp and rope as tension. Just put bags on the cart and I'll rearrange them all."

He wasn't exactly a weakling nerd that was picked on. His arms, were still adequately sized for lifting fourty or so pound bags. The mage lifestyle related atrophy hadn't struck him just yet.


"No," Renauld replied to Oscar, "not at the moment. I'm freelancing for the time being." He didn't elaborate on why the sudden change in position. He also didn't really react to Oscar's bromantic skinship. He just gave an affirming 'hm' and nodded.

Renauld also refrained on commenting on the introduction of black-hair trench coat—Siwon, rather—because he just had nothing to say about it. If you had nothing nice to say...

Then the chaos began. The girl in the scarf obviously knew the armoured giant. They had some bad blood between them. Muu, as she introduced herself, was passive aggressive and goading the aggressive-aggressive giant into some sort of rage. Maybe it was an honest mistake from someone who didn't know better, but it wouldn't matter in the end. It didn't—and wouldn't—matter why a punch was thrown. The only thing that mattered was if and when that punch was thrown. If Renauld could smoothly redirect that punch 24 hours from now and aimed at a monster instead of Muu, then the less chance a guard would come and throw them all in a dungeon.

Renauld could tell that the giant was fuming. Whether it was an impotent rage or a rabid feeling of superiority didn't matter. What mattered was making sure there wasn't a fight in the middle of town. Eyes were beginning to turn on them, after all. Yelling in the middle of the square at the crack of dawn was a bad idea.

There was even a child nearby. Wait, there was a child nearby? Renauld's eyes had been too focused on Siwon, he hadn't noticed the small girl that had been hip-checked by the unknowing fiend knight. Suddenly, she rose. In the middle of Muu's passive aggressive rant, she gave a... rousing speech about joining their party. One that had the occasional bit tongue and misspoken word. It was difficult to listen to both of them, but he could get the general gist of it. Muu was poking a hornet's nest and the girl was being as brave as she could be.

He looked at Siwon and Argentum. They weren't doing anything to defuse the situation. They were merely getting out of the way. That was, in all likelihoods, the best possible move. After all, standing between someone who could lift a horse and someone brazen enough to prod them was a horrible idea.

Had Renauld possessed a greater will, he could have gotten angry alongside them. Call them both fools for fighting each other rather than the monsters. Had he been stronger, he could have stopped a fight that had broken out. Renauld was neither willful nor strong. He was just a mage in personality and ability; standing on the backlines and firing things in. Now, he was entering the frontline. He moved from beside the board to stand between Ettamri and Muu.

"I don't know what went on between you two," he said with a slight fear in his voice, "but it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the winter and us surviving it—all of us. I believe it would be for the best if we try to just focus on the job at hand." By now, every bit of hesitation vanished from his voice. "Rather than being a part of conflict, I think it's best if we just get the supplies to the fort. The more capable hands we have, the more likely we are to succeed. I'm not going to ask you two to become best friends or to even talk to each other. I'm not going to ask you to even make amends. But I trust you both to ride on that horse and carriage and to mess up any monster that comes our way."

Such a speech felt out of character, even for Renauld. Usually, he would have simply sat by and let it run its course. This time was a bit different. He was associated with Ettamri and Muu now. If they were to start shit with each other, he would get caught in the crossfire. Unless he decided to flee from all of them, conflict was inevitable. This wasn't an attempt at mediation, though. No, he didn't offer any solution. He was just trying to get them to stop fighting until after the job was done. His livelihood was at stake, after all. Two weeks was his absolute limit for how far his money could stretch him during the winter season. 10 gold split 6, er, 7 ways was a lot. 1 gold, 42 silver each.

Slowly backing up from his sudden interjection between the two, he turned to the small child priest. He didn't really bend over or get too close. After all, one was patronizing and the other would hurt her neck. He had his issues about letting a child come along with them, but quickly resigned them. There was no other way, he figured. What business would hire a random child? It would be the only way for a girl as young as her to survive. If she was a priest, at least she could be protected. She wouldn't have to fight on the front lines. A minor consolation to the situation.

"Katya, was it? I think we're all glad to have you aboard, seeing how important healers are." He didn't even hide his attempt at flattery. "If I may ask, what spells do you possess?"
It was obvious that the first floor wasn't to put up any difficulty. The kobold writing on the ground had met a quick end to Oben's nodachi. Even though the kobold on the ground struggled, pleaded, and tried to avoid death with everything in its power, the skull-faced warrior's blade was simply stronger. Its head was separated from its body and the pained whimpers had been replaced by a deafening silence.

Kori's simple bladework made quick example of the mutts attacking her. Simple moves were always called the fundamentals for a reason; they worked. The first kobold that she had attacked let its guard down. This was something that kobolds had been known for. They were nothing more than dogs on two legs. To attack, they would leave themselves open to any counter attack. The simple thrust that Kori had prepared had easily sliced through the roof of its mouth. The flying kobold's body went limp while its skull was skewered on the shieldmaiden's blade.

The second kobold didn't fare any better.

By swinging with such force, the mutt attached from brain to blade had been thrown off. The second kobold, which had been approaching just as rapidly as the flying one, had its skull meet with the side of Kori's blade. With a crunch, it cleaved into its skull. Had the kobold been wearing a helmet, it would may have not acquiesced its demise. Dogs didn't wear helmets, though. The force of the blow had carried the mutt off of its feet and into the pillar.

Castor's simple moves were both defensive and offensive; they were trademarks of the spear. The force of its charge had only caused it to meet the pointy end of a long stick. It was skewered on it. Castor's fancy move of planting the spear and finishing it off using his shortsword also bore fruit. The kobold was unable to avoid a blade coming at its neck. Using the genetic freak's natural breadth, the blade cut deep into its neck. However, the head wasn't removed. A mixture of hard pelt, fat, and spine had stopped the blade in place. Was it a bad angle? Even though Castor had struck it at a good angle, the unsecured nature of the spear had only worked against him. The spear then began to fall with kobold and sword attached.

And the room was clear. No more kobolds. Almost instantly as combat finished, the short and (now that the party had discovered) incredibly fast pallum porter quickly dashed from corpse to corpse. In her hand was a strange knife; it was incredibly thin, but had great surface area. It was constructed from a pitch black material with edge on one side and hook on the other. It was obviously not meant for combat; it looked like it would shatter if it ever had to block anything. The speed of Penn was incredibly. She cut into the chest of each kobold with extreme ease. From their now opened chest cavities, she extracted a single crystal. It was about the size of one's thumb and faintly glowed with magic. Upon removal of the stone, the corpse would begin to fade. Muscle would unstrand and wither, skin would tighten and dry, and bone would crack and turn to dust. Within seconds, the body would turn to ash and blow away in the nonexistent wind. One kobold, however, hadn't completely faded away. The kobold that had met its end to Varanense's arrow and Oben's glory stealing mercy killing had left behind its skin. No blood was left to taint the fur as Penn shoved it into her oversized backpack.

"Good work everyone," Penn assured them even though it was a cake walk of a fight, "the hole down should be just in the next room or so. There aren't any stairs or anything for this hole, so you're going to have rappel down a rope. Or learn how to. Trial by fire, you know?"


Floor 2



Sliding down the rope, the party would first notice that it was practically the same floor as before. Dirt and stone were still the primary material the floor had been constructed of. The same blue lights illuminated the halls. If there was any difference that the most astute of adventurers could see, it was that it was slightly darker and the halls no longer felt straight and gridlike. While the rooms remained unturned, the grid-like maps of the first floor had been replaced more free-form paths. Simple curves and diagonal halls. That was the main difference of the second floor. It was much easier to get lost as a result. This time, however, Penn made no attempt to help the party navigate. She would still answer any questions they had, but now the onus of navigation was much more on them. Well, at least making the path they would follow. Penn didn't want to get lost and die on the second floor because she wanted a bunch of adventurers to navigate, after all.

The question made itself apparent: what path would the party choose?
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