Dungeons Are Bad Business

Alisanne Henret could recall with perfect clarity the first time she’d ever read about adventurers. It’d been a cold, windy morning that followed a night of terrible weather that’d painted the world in orange and yellow maple leaves.

She’d been seven…or maybe eight years old. Okay, maybe she didn’t recall the morning with perfect clarity, but the set up wasn’t important, it was the takeaway that really mattered when she contemplated her path through life, as she was doing now.

It’d been an article about Alrick the [Brooding Spellblade], who’d risen to fame by nature of possessing a sword that was somehow less cursed than his personality. However, despite his melancholy demeanor and tendency to sabotage himself through negligence and arrogance, Alisanne found him enchanting. She envied his fantastic twists of fate that snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. The coincidences that always seemed to break his way. The kindly strangers who offered aid on frigid nights seemingly without reason.

Alisanne wanted those things for herself.

The highly summarized and sanitized version of his campaign against a wicked dragon woke something up in her heart, and she dreamed of a world bigger than the dirty streets and broken windows of her neighborhood. She wanted to meet people and creatures beyond the beggars and criminals that seemed to lurk around every corner, and have adventures that were worth writing down.

From that moment, she became a girl possessed, saving her birthday and holiday money for training sessions at the adventurer’s guild, helped weed gardens, walked and took care of pets, babysat for her neighbors, and did everything she could think of to scrape together a few fleurs here and there. With time and effort, her pile of money grew and grew.

At least, it had until she’d started running Crestheart regularly. The [Fighter] sighed as she stared at the meager scraps of her savings.

“Nearly three months of spending roughly half a gold most days does that,” she muttered to herself.

Scooping up her training bag, which carried her clubs, knuckle tape, and other miscellaneous bits of gear, Alisanne decided to head down to the guildhall and see if there was any work to be had.

It was pretty early in the morning, so the streets of Oar’s Crest were relatively empty except for the bits of garbage and debris that were always there. They bothered her in a way they never had before; she’d gotten spoiled from all her trips to Crestheart, Alisanne thought with a smile.

Apparently [Dungeon Master] Vales was working to get the rest of the city cleaned up too. She couldn’t wait to see it.

The guild hall was busier than the streets, with a gaggle of adventurers milling about near the job board. Alisanne nodded to the other adventurers she recognized as she gently pushed her way closer. It was hard for her to see over the shoulders of adventurers who were so much taller than she was, but things didn’t exactly look promising.

Nominally, the job board was divided into two distinct sections. The first was for “classical” adventuring jobs – the type she’d read about as a child…the kind that people normally thought of when they heard the word adventurer – like hunting monsters, delivering packages of varying importance with differing levels of secrecy, going on quests to find missing people or objects, collecting special ingredients from a far-of locale, and other things of that nature. The second section was for dungeon sports types jobs, which were almost exclusively advertisements for different dungeons and circuits around the continent.

However, beyond this simple distinction, which was made by the guild, there was another separation that was imposed by some of the adventurers themselves. These were “open for all” jobs, and “special” jobs that were only allowed to be taken by select adventurers…which in practice meant just the high levels. This latter group made up the majority of jobs on the classical side of the board, which meant that adventurers like Alisanne were forced to compete for scraps like dogs at a holiday table.

Ugh. just thinking about that made Alisanne’s blood boil. She hadn’t ever imagined that adventurers could be so petty, short-sighted, and foolish. Weren’t they all comrades chasing the mystical butterfly called adventure together? Shouldn’t they all be striving to help each other grow stronger and improve their city and rest of the continent?

The stupid high levels didn’t think that way, and they had a nasty way of making sure that the low levels stayed in line. Truthfully, that was one of the reasons that she remained a [Fighter] and worked so hard to keep leveling: if she reached the threshold of “high level” – somewhere around level 27 in her primary class – she could more forcefully intervene and bring the practice to an end.

Unfortunately, that was still a long way away, and likely to get even further once the rest of her money ran out and she could no longer afford near-daily runs of Crestheart. She’d have to make the most of those discounted runs she’d bought, as well as the one on one fights with [Dungeon Champion] Alforde to have any chance at it.

A burly salamander carrying a socketed crystal staff slid to the side as she approached the board, hissing at her as she did so. She glared back, but the matter went no further than that and Alisanne turned her attention to the board itself.

It was, of course, basically empty…except for the poster that had caught her eye a few days before.

Upcoming Dungeon Development Committee Activity, it said. Starting in Oar’s Crest, come test your mettle against five unique dungeons! Sign up today!

Alisanne winced as she threw open the door to the Quenching Bucket a good deal harder than she’d originally intended.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said as she carefully shut the door with a sheepish grin. “Misjudged my strength again. ”

She’d have to be more careful with that, she thought. She was still gaining Might rather quickly, especially with the new weighted clubs she’d gotten to help her training. Thankfully, the shop was nearly empty since it was still pretty early in the morning, and Vera, the old kitrekin who ran the place didn’t seem to mind.

Vera was tall and regal, with sharp features and bright green eyes that seemed to see right through a person. She dressed modestly, had perfect posture, and was always covered in a bevy of beaded jewelry that looked to be handmade. Her fur was gray with a bit of a blue tint, and it grew more gray with each passing year.

Walking up to the counter, Alisanne forced herself to smile and said, “Good morning, Vera. I’ll have one strawberry tart, please.”

The kitrekin raised her eyebrows. “Just the tart? No coffee this morning, child?”

Alisanne shook her head. “Not today, thanks.”

She felt a pang of regret at the refusal. Truth be told, she would have loved a coffee, but she kept thinking back to her dwindling pile of fleurs and lack of income prospects. With that said, though, she wasn’t quite ready to cut all of Vera’s treats out of her life, but was committed to making some small changes until things turned back around.

Reaching into her pocket, Alisanne drew out a pair of bronze fleurs and set them on the counter, then wandered off to pick a table and sit down.

A few minutes later, Vera brought over a small plate with the tart on it, as well as a mug of steaming black coffee.

Alisanne opened her mouth to protest the free drink, but Vera waved it away as she sat down. “Think nothing of it. You’re a regular. It’s just a cup of coffee.”

“I wouldn’t feel right taking it without paying for it,” Alisanne said.

“Bah. You humans are so weird about such things! Fine, you can pay me for the coffee by telling me what has you so upset,” Vera said, sitting down and setting her paws on the table. She smiled kindly. “Your heart is twisted in knots, child. Some trouble at the guild, then? Something to do with those other adventurers you spoke of before that have been giving you and some of your peers issues, right?”

“Sort of, but it’s not entirely their fault,” Alisanne said, taking a bite of the tart. It was as delicious as always, tasting vaguely of spiced strawberries and honey. “I mean, make no mistake, they’re not helping matters, but I’m mostly just frustrated. There’s something I want to do and I can’t afford it.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

Alisanne spent the next few minutes explaining her situation. Vera listened quietly, and inclined her head forward slightly when the girl finished.

“I see. So your problem is that you lack the funds to enter this dungeon circuit?”

Alisanne nodded glumly, taking a sip of the free coffee and wincing. She idly wondered if it’d be rude to ask for some milk to go with it, and decided against asking. It’d be rude, given that the drink had been free. Telling herself that the bitterness of the drink offset the sweetness of the tart, Alisanne took another sip.

“I think I could pull the entry fees together, but I don’t have enough for travel and lodging for the other dungeons. That’s the biggest problem,” she said. “So, I went down to the guildhall to see if there were any quick jobs open that I could take, but there aren’t any. The high level adventurer jerks have got them all stashed away for themselves.”

Vera reached up and pulled one of her whiskers, tilting her head to the side as if deep in thought. “That is unfortunate indeed. Pardon me if this is impolite to ask, but how short are you?”

“Huh?”

“How many fleurs do you think it would take for you to be able to participate?”

“Oh. I see what you meant. Uh…fifteen gold would cover everything. I think.”

The kitrekin sighed quietly.

“Indeed, that’s quite a bit of money for a girl your age. I understand that you can’t get adventuring jobs, but have you considered a different way of earning money? A part time job in an unrelated field, perhaps?”

“I don’t think I’d be able to earn enough money in time before the circuit starts up,” Alisanne said hesitantly. She’d thought about getting a job here and there, but hadn’t wanted to distract herself from her adventuring journey.

That…was probably not the wisest course of action, in the long run. Maybe she’d have to make her peace with a normal job like most of the other adventurers in the guild did.

Vera drummed her paws on the table a few times, then got up and said, “Give me a moment, please. I’ll return shortly.”

She vanished into the back, and Alisanne heard the muffled voice of Vera’s husband Mykl. A few minutes later, an interval of time that allowed Alisanne to finish her tart and coffee, Vera emerged carrying a small bag. It jingled rather brightly when she set it down on the table.

“It occurs to me that I might be able to offer you a solution to your current issue,” the kitrekin said, pushing the bag over toward Alisanne. “How would you like to become the adventuring representative of my little shop here?”

Alisanne blinked hard several times. “You mean a sponsorship?”

“Indeed. Aren’t such things common in dungeon sports?”

“No…I mean, yes, they are, but not for adventurers like me. Usually it’s only the high levels that get sponsorships and stuff.”

Vera smiled. “Well, then think of this as a stroke of good fortune, eh?”

As soon as the words were out of the kitrekin’s mouth, stories about a pale, moody swordsman burned through Alisanne’s mind. Shelter in storms. Guidance through deserts of dreambeasts and twisted magic. Sponsorship in a dungeon circuit.

She threw back her head and laughed.

Alisanne's Character Sheet:

Alisanne Henret

Primary Class: Fighter (Self), Level 14

Secondary Class: Scrimping Saver (Self), Level 11

Might: 16

Wit: 9

Faith: 14

Determination: 12

Ambition: 7

Greed: 5

Focus: 8

Idealism: 8

Bravery: 6

Adventurousness: 5