Herald of death

As the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, Ethan, Sylas, and the rest of their group are nearing the city of Opal. The city emerges like a behemoth from the sea, its imposing walls standing tall. The group of priests accompanying them rides in silence, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion.

One of the priests keeps checking a jar badly hidden in his bag. He presses on its lid repeatedly, worried that the dead parasites he stored inside could jump out.

The inner buildings of Opal tower above the city. A grand castle commands attention even from a distance. It seems to have been built for a taller and more formidable kind, with its thick walls and its unreasonably high floors.

The clatter of hooves echoes as they transition to a cobblestone road. The distant sounds of the sea reach them, mixing seagull calls and crashing waves. Guards stationed atop the walls and along the gate cast wary glances at the newcomers, their hands holding spears.

An air of tension hangs over the passersby. The flow of travelers and merchants leaving the city largely exceeds the flow of those who wish to enter. The priests accompanying them murmur amongst themselves.

With each step closer to the gate, the sense of unease grows stronger. The guards, their expressions stern, make no move to stop their cart as they see the priests. They eye Ethan and Sylas with suspicion but remain still. Waves of Ether parkour Ethan and windows appear in front of several guards. His heart tightens, but none of them react.

Ethan jumps down from the cart, waving his hand. "See you, Sylas," he says as he moves away.

Sylas moves to the side of the cart closest to Ethan. "Wait, I don't even know your name," Sylas says. Ethan doesn't answer, disappearing into the crowd.

'I should disguise myself before going to the adventurer guild, where the artifact should be,' Ethan thinks. 'Just in case Sylas tells the regent that I came with him, and he sends for me.'

Ethan spots a merchant display filled with dyes and art furniture. He approaches, pointing at what he thinks is henna and indigo. "How much for the black and the blue dyes?"

The merchant lifts his head. "How much do you need?" he asks. Ethan places two empty vials on the display. "Three coppers."

"And would you perhaps have iron salts for sale?"

"Indeed." The merchant pulls out a pouch from behind him. "Five coppers."

Ethan hands the coins to the man and fills the vials from the baskets of powder. Hidden in an alley, he mixes everything in the remains of a water bottle. It turns into a deep black sludge he pours on his ginger hair. As the dye settles on his hair and beard, he summons a small flame in his hand. He heats up the air around him, intensifying the resulting color. He dries up the remaining product from his hair and face with a cloth and examines the result with his phone. His hair and beard turned black.

'Now for the clothes,' he thinks, spotting an armorer at the other end of the alleyway. He opens its door, entering a small workshop where armor and clothes lie on mannequins.

A man appears from the back of the shop, his face and clothes covered in charcoal stains. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I need something discrete, yet that can still protect me," Ethan begins. "If possible, something slightly elegant."

The man looks around his shop, where he finds only thick pieces of iron and steel armor. "Would you mind if I customized it for you? It will take a few hours, and I'll need you here for measurement. I can use bull leather and steel plating for a few silvers, unless you have a bigger budget."

"What do you have for a few golds?" Ethan asks, manipulating two gold coins between his fingers.

The artisan smiles. "I've had the skin of a Shade Drake on hand for a while. The average blade will be unable to slash through it."

"I'll take that," Ethan says.

The armorer's eyes light up with excitement. "Excellent choice, sir," he says, gesturing for Ethan to follow him to the back of the shop.

As they approach a large wooden chest, the armorer carefully unlocks it. It contains the sleek, shadowy scaled skin of the beast. He takes measurements of Ethan's chest, shoulders, waist, arms, and legs. "Should I plan for a margin? Should you gain more muscle or take a bit of weight."

"That won't be necessary," Ethan answers. "Improving my strength doesn't seem to enlarge my muscles, and I don't plan on fattening."

While the armorer works on the armor's pattern, Ethan takes a moment to examine the Shade Drake skin. Its texture is smooth yet rigid. He can feel the Ether deeply embedded in the material.

After several hours of meticulous work, the armorer presents Ethan with the finished armor. It takes the form of a long coat with a hood, reinforced with steel plates hidden in the chest's lining. The coat perfectly fits Ethan.

In addition to the coat, the armorer also crafted a shirt and pants from the same skin. The armor is subtle yet elegant, its dark color blending with the shadows.

"If you want more protection we could add a steel breastplate and perhaps chain mail inside the coat." The armorer motions at such pieces.

"Maybe another day," Ethan says. He hands the armorer the two coins. The man's hands are bloodied, damaged by the pressure he repeatedly uses to pierce the Shade Drake skin.

Ethan exits the building into the night. The streets are dark, lacking any form of public lighting. 'Off to the adventure guild,' Ethan thinks.

The night air is cool against his slightly wet hair and beard. His new armor doesn't bother him in the slightest as he moves through the streets. In the darkness of the alleyways, he hardly sees his own clothes.

After asking for directions a few times, Ethan finally arrives at the Adventurer Guild building. From the outside, it appears unassuming, its weathered façade blending with its neighbors'. But as he steps inside, he's greeted by the lively atmosphere of an oversized tavern.

The interior is bustling with activity. Adventurers of all shapes and sizes recount tales of their missions. The air is thick with the smell of ale and filled with raucous laughter. The building itself is old and often repaired. Its walls are adorned with faded banners and trophies. Tables and chairs are scattered haphazardly across the room. A large hearth crackles with warmth in a corner.

Russ moves to the fire by himself, exhausted from his long day of walking. He tucks himself into a ball at the feet of the chimney. Ethan spots the artifact he's coming for in another corner. A man clad in plate armor guards it, with a spear in his hand and a sword at his belt. The massive crystal embedded in a stone structure pulsates with a soft blue light.

Ethan navigates his way through the crowd, his appearance drawing curious glances. He feels several waves of Ether passing through him. No one seems to overreact as they read his status. As he approaches the crystal, the guard steps in front of him. "Guild card, please," the man says.

"I'm afraid I don't have one," Ethan says calmly.

The guard motions at an empty counter. "You have to be an adventurer to use a Waystone. Unless you've just lost your card, you can enroll right here."

'She didn't mention anything about needing to sign in their organization,' Ethan grumbles inward. He moves to the counter, drawing a few more glances. He finds a bell and presses on it twice.

He can hear movements in a room behind the counter, and moments later, a woman joins him. "Hi, I'm Alara, the guild representative at the Opal Adventurer Guild. Welcome!" Her voice is warm, but she can barely hide the fact that she woke up a minute ago. She scans Ethan from head to toe.

She extends her hand in greeting, her grip firm and confident. "What brings you to our guild? I don't think I've ever seen you around here."

"I need to use your Waystone, but it seems I need to work for you to do so," he replies with a faint smile.

Alara's smile widens, revealing a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You are certainly welcome to join our ranks. Only adventurers of rank D or above can use our Waystones, but I'm sure you can work your way there."

Ethan sights, his shoulders tensing slightly. "How do you determine one's rank, if I may ask?" he inquires.

"It depends on your abilities. Typically, a party of four adventurers of a given rank should be able to tackle a dungeon of the same rank," Alara explains, her hands moving as she speaks.

"Do you need to see my Dungeon Conqueror titles to determine my rank?" Ethan asks, already planning on modifying his false status.

"Sadly, because some use the Anonymity ability, we require a test to determine your rank. You may request such an evaluation when you join our guild, and then once every three months," Alara responds.

"And can I request to be tested for a specific rank?" Ethan queries.

"Absolutely," she begins. "But if you fail, you'll need to wait three months. Furthermore, we'll only agree for you to take on requests of your rank or lower," she explains, her words carrying a note of caution. "If you're able to read, we have a pamphlet resuming every rule of the guild," she says, handing a copy to Ethan.

He skims it quickly. The guild promotes neutrality, as their role is to rid the world of monsters and discover its secrets. As such, their services, including the Waystones, will be blocked to any adventurer who is currently in the service of another. 'Interesting, they explicitly state that you can use a pseudonym. I'm going to guess that the rule on neutrality must only be an afterthought for some,' Ethan observes.

"Very well, I'd like to register," Ethan announces, sliding two copper coins across the counter to cover the listed fees.

"I'll only need a name and a rank for which you'd like to be tested," Alara prompts.

"Grim, D," Ethan says.