Dungeons Are Bad Business

With his yellow spirit hands steepled in front of his brim, Reginald faced Nock’s projection with a stern expression. For once, his mouth was completely straight, and his eyes gave the impression of being drawn tight in thought. In a voice that was clearly trying far too hard to be serious, Reginald said, “And if you’re hired, how do you intend to bolster the dungeon’s performance?”

Sitting a few feet away, Vee couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Reginald had already asked that question three other times, though admittedly he used a different set of words each time. Clearly, his [Majordomo] was just enjoying the opportunity to hear his own voice.

Nock’s projection leaned back so that he could rest his feet on the table and yawned. “Per my last answer, I don’t care about the dungeon’s performance. I’m just bored and tired of being trapped in this cage. If you let me free and give me some fleurs, I’ll do almost anything you ask me to.”

“I see, I see. Let me just jot that down here….Does not seem to be a self-starter…likely a low performer too…great. Okay, next question: What sort of salary were you hoping to get?”

Nock’s projection rolled his shoulders. “Freedom is more than enough to start, but I was making four golds a month working for the bandits.”

Vee nearly dropped the ectoplasmic tool he was holding for Rortenferry, who was on his back attaching the last few panels to the underside of the device he was currently working on. The [Dungeon Master] turned to the weaponsoul and stared like a turkey watching a rainstorm.

“Did I hear that right? You were making four golds every month?”

“Sure was, but that’s only because I was out here where there’s not much business. Some of the guys over on the other side of the continent were making two or three platinums a week.”

Boy it sure was a good thing that Vee was sitting, because if he hadn’t been he probably would have fallen down right then and there. That was serious money! Those old scolds who’d always told him that crime didn’t pay clearly hadn’t ever looked at high end banditry.

Of course, the rates were probably pushed up quite a bit by just how dangerous it was to be a bandit holding commerce for the entire continent hostage, but those were the kind of details Vee wasn’t interested in just then. Like most people who heard about big money being made in something they weren’t expecting, he wasn’t thinking about the costs or risks associated with getting it at all. In his brain, it was all profit.

If he’d only been born bigger and stronger! Okay, not really, but still, the proverbial grass on the other side sure looked pretty green just then.

Reginald made a little hem-hem sound, as if frustrated that Vee had the temerity to interrupt his precious interview. He gave the [Dungeon Master] a Significant Look, and in an irritatingly proper voice, said, “If I might be allowed to continue.”

Vee flipped his hat an obscene hand gesture, and Nock laughed. Reginald carried on as if he hadn’t noticed. This time, he asked that most-loved of all interview questions.

“What’s your biggest weakness?”

Nock laughed again. “You can’t be serious! Gawain’s gut, what a hoot you are!”

Rortenferry’s hand emerged from the gloom surrounding the floating sphere of ectoplasmic constructs and his fingers wiggled.

“I’ll take that medium night claw now, please.”

Startled by the sound of his old [Professor]’s voice, Vee fumbled with the tool for a moment and then handed it over.

“Thanks,” grunted Rortenferry, his hand disappearing once again. A strange hissing filled the air, punctuated by clicks and clacks of the older [Ghost Maestro]’s tool as he twisted something into place. The device-in-progress bobbed up and down, and a string of yellow lights appeared on one side. Vee counted them carefully before they disappeared and waited for the next set, which were blue and green. He counted these too, and relayed the numbers to Rortenferry when they all faded away for good.

“Thirteen yellow, seven blue and twenty three green.”

“Excellent. That means the arrays are coming together the way they’re supposed to. Now, there should be a…yes, there it is. I need the greed grips next. It’s the…no, stay still…the big one with the orange handle.”

The tool in question was as long as Vee’s forearm, and its hand at the end was open and grasping. Like all ectoplasmic vice grips, this one was imbued with the power of its name. No matter how much it held or twisted, it continuously sought more. Vee picked it up, wincing as the echo of its desires flooded his senses and gently pushing them away. He was more than happy to hand the tool over, reminded why he’d never been interested in pursuing [Ghost Artificer] back at school. It didn’t matter what the [Class Researchers] and [Philosophers] said; close contact with tools like that on a regular basis couldn’t be good for you, long term.

A few minutes later, Rortenferry pushed his project higher up into the air and sat up. His face was red and he was breathing ever so slightly harder than usual.

“Not as young as I used to be,” he said with a small smile as he saw Vee’s worried expression. Crawling over to the tool packet, Rortenferry returned the greed grips and the night claw to their proper places before wiping his hands with a big fluffy towel.

“Makes my skin crawl each time,” he muttered as he let the towel hit the floor. Standing up, he turned to Vee and gestured for the [Dungeon Master] to rise as well. “Come on, help me get this downstairs and I’ll show you how it all comes together with the rest of the pieces we have down there. That way, you can put it back together if something breaks in a few months.

Vee nodded, though he doubted he’d be able to do such a thing. Ectoplasmic constructs like Rortenferry was making – where some parts relied on others in complex ways akin to other machines – had always been beyond his ken, and the problem had only gotten worse since he’d become a [Dungeon Master]. He blamed [Big Picture].

Still, he helped his old [Professor] guide the orb down to the floor below, listening dutifully as Rortenferry droned on about arrays of exchanging power, ectoplasmic crucibles, portal stones, and dozens of other small workings that combined their forces like a series of steel-plated animal spirits to form a greater whole. In this case, the greater whole was a ghost printer. Also called a ghost press, due to the average person’s all-too-common confusion between the act of doing something and the tool for doing so.

Thankfully, while its innards were complex, the process of attaching it to the other parts waiting in the new workshop was simple enough. Vee and Rortenferry tightened ectoplasmic clamps, sealed ectoplasmic locks, and activated sigils to make sure that the orb didn’t rattle or move when the device was activated.

When it was all together and Vee got a good look at it, he couldn’t help but think of an octopus. The orb Rortenferry had just finished looked like a head, and the sprawling other pieces looked like tentacles.

“Let’s go ahead and give it a test to make sure that it’s working properly,” Rortenferry said, handing Vee a small token imprinted with blue ectoplasm. “Here, you do the honors.”

Vee inserted the token and waited for light near the device’s handle to turn on. He wasn’t entirely sure how the printer ”absorbed” the token, as Rortenferry’s explanation had gone right over his head, but he could wait the five or six seconds it took for the printer to be ready.

Wrapping his fingers around the handle, Vee pulled and the printer made a little thunking sound. Some of its parts whirled while others wiggled, and after a moment a trio of basic ghosts burped into existence. They floated forward aimlessly, before Rortenferry pressed a button on another machine that sealed them away in a different token, which made them easier to store.

“What do you think, eh? Beats the heck out of doing it all by hand! Once you get the hang of it, I bet you can produce a month’s worth of ghosts in a couple hours.” Rortenferry said. “It’s still pretty simple, but you have a basic workshop now that can hopefully help you keep Crestheart stocked and ready to go with ghostly minions. Once you start making decent designs, you should be well-equipped for success.”

“My designs are fine!” Vee insisted, but Rortenferry shook his head.

“No they’re not. They’re trite, boring, and inherently flawed.”

Vee started to protest further, feeling his temper rising in his throat, but Rortenferry held up his hand. “Even if you don’t want to admit it, you know that I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “Furthermore, you should know that I’m not trying to bring you down by telling you this.”

“What are you trying to do, then?”

“I’m trying to teach you an important lesson that many [Ghost Maestros] go years without learning.”

Vee folded his arms across his chest and got his temper under control.

“Fine, what is it?”

“That like many young [Ghost Maestros], you frequently design ghosts that fall into the trap of seeking balance at the expense of effectiveness. You try to fix with micro adjustments what should be handled with macro planning. Allow me to show you what I mean.”

Raising his hands, Rortenferry pulled a bunch of ectoplasm out of the air and started shaping it. He twisted and stretched it, forming a long, spindly creature with four separate limbs. Then, with the ease of long practice, he [Vivified] it and the ghost started crawling on the ground.

It moved in an unnatural manner, like a spider, and Vee instinctively took a step back as it crawled toward him. Rortenferry stopped it before it got close and ordered it to turn around. When it stopped for the second time, the older [Ghost Maestro] snapped his fingers and the ghost disappeared, leaving a tiny puddle of ectoplasm on the ground in its wake.

“definitely not the best ghost ever made, nor is it going to succeed in every situation you throw it into, but crawling ghosts can be extremely effective in some circumstances. Now, in all the time that I’ve been here, I’ve yet to see you even consider making a serious attempt to design a ghost like that one,” Rortenferry said.

“All your ghosts are vaguely humanoid, which means that you’re ignoring a massive pool of inspiration that you should be drawing from. Where are your lizard ghosts, your spider ghosts, your bird ghosts? What about exploding ghosts? Status effecting ghosts? Weaponized elemental resistance ghosts? Localized aura carriers? Loot-holders? They’re nowhere to be found!

“My ghosts work fine for what I need,” Vee said defensively, tightening his jaw. However, even as he said it, he felt a blossom of new possibilities filling his mind. Why had he been so rigid in his belief that his minions – especially his ghosts – were static? He’d spent plenty of time fiddling with various traps and rooms for the dungeon, hadn’t he? The same principles there applied here too: there had to be plenty of different things he could do to improve his ghosts; ways he could tailor his minions to stop adventurers.

But his old hesitation reared its ugly head and stifled his creative impulse.. Your shaping skills and sigilmancy sucks. You’ll just fail. There are better things you should be spending your time on. You can worry about making new ghost designs later.

“I can’t make anything like that,” Vee said. “There’s too many other things going on right now.”

The comment faded into silence before Rortenferry shook his head and walked toward the stairs. He clapped Vee on the shoulder as he passed, his voice was quiet as he spoke. “I know this isn’t your only job, but if making the same couple ghosts over and over is the level of effort you want to put in on something so important to your future, Vee, that’s your call. If you change your mind, let me know.”

He left without another word, and Vee stayed down in the darkened room for a long time, thinking hard.

What did he have to lose?

“It costs nothing to try,” Vee said, and a notification popped up in front of his eyes.

[You have received a quest: Design New Ghosts! Would you like to accept it?]

Vee hit yes.

Main Character Sheets:

Vee Vales

Primary Class: Ghost Maestro (Locksmagister University), Level 29

Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar’s Crest), Level 21

Tertiary Class: Guy-Who-Takes-Things-WAY-Too-Far (Self), Level 5

Might: 13

Wit: 33

Faith: 21

Adventurousness: 7

Ambition: 14

Plotting: 20

Charisma: 15

Devious Mind: 23

Leadership: 17

Guts: 14

Intimidating Presence: 10

Citizenship: 20

Public Relations: 7

Determination: 2

Persuasiveness: 3

<3***Infatuation***<3

Alforde Armorsoul:

Primary Class: Hammer Afficionado (Self), Level 25

Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 14

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar’s Crest), Level 16

Additional Class: Glaciernaut (Sacha Silverblade), Level 7

Might: 44

Wit: 13

Faith: 28

Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 9

Endurance: 22

Intimidating Presence: 12

Heart of a Champion: 10

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 8

Vigilance: 6

Vanity: 1

Reginald :

Primary Class: Core Spirit (Unknown), Level ???

--~%@(%$@ &% (*$ #&#e !i$$ (#$%#$%#$@!)~--, #$v@& ????

Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 40 (+1)

Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 16

Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 8

Might: 1

Wit: 33

Faith: 14

Ambition: 27

Greed: 22

Deceptiveness: 27

Manipulativeness: 38 (+1)

$#&*!@!!: !!!

Loyalty: 47

Patience: 9

[#&%%%@%!#@__--#%]

Hop@#!! @#$@!@#

@#$@%%^

#4^5#*&_!+++#(@$#

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 7