Wow, sorry this chapter was late. I was so busy, haha. Giant Clam time!
Also: The Travelling Merchant knows The Guide = Young Noble.
Armour: Victide (Ranger)
Weapon: Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Rover Drive, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (300/400)
The muffled roar of drunken revelry swelled and ebbed through the night, disturbing the occupants of the inn's upper floors. Even the attic wasn't spared the ruckus. The noise rattled the floorboards and lifted dust from the old books, maps and memorabilia that were stacked about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Even so, despite the banging, dancing and singing from below, The Travelling Merchant remained keenly focused on his task. This was a job from his most lucrative client yet, and it was in his best interests to keep his new cash cow happy.
By the light of a dimming oil lamp, The old gentleman carefully penned his report.
~The Lunatic cultist - the fanatical leader of the Dungeon Coven, always presents with a plague-doctor like mask reminiscent of a large bird or vulture. His typical dress consists of long blue robes trimmed in gold. A powerful mage, second only to The Great Witch, however, whereas her magic is almost purely destructive, The Cultist is a much more versatile sorcerer. He has mastered both offensive magic, supporting and defensive roles as well as necromancy and aberrant summoning.~
His client - The Young Noble camping The Crimson border - bore a grudge. A gruesome, vengeful grudge that filled him with so much anger, he was willing to hand over a chest of diamonds as a down payment for information on the Lunatic Cultist. That man wanted to kill The Cultist?... How laughable. Even if he had that Slayer fighting for him it was still an impossibility. If The Young Noble found himself face to face with a mage like that, there was zero chance he would survive… and what good was a dead client to The Travelling Merchant?
He continued writing, a twinge of guilt twisting his heart as he penned outdated information. At least his intentions were good.
~ The Cultist can be found in the Dungeon on the shores of the Sulfuric Seas - map enclosed - beware of the dungeon, Young Noble, it is not only filled with deadly traps, but also teems with walking skeletons. The Lunatic Cultist has raised an army of undead to serve his own purposes, and The Dungeon has no lack of corpses. Eons ago, The King used those cursed halls as a dumping ground for the casualties of his conquests. It is brimming with angry souls, and my suggestion is to avoid descending into that pit of death. ~
The Slayer had managed to single handedly take down a King Slime (whose crown The Travelling Merchant had yet to find a buyer for). That man-like creature could probably survive the dungeon, if just barely, and granted The Cultist was absent. Hopefully seeing his pet monster struggling against the denizens of The Dungeon would dissuade The Young Noble from any further adventuring.
The preservation of his client wasn't The Travelling Merchant's only ulterior motive. Despite any oaths he may have sworn, all were null and void before his secret, loftier loyalties. On the outside, he was nothing but a cutthroat businessman whose allegiance could be measured, bought and sold. However, although he presented himself as completely neutral, his heart lay with The Resistance. He was a covert revolutionist.
The lamp flickered. He blinked and focused, plotting to the scratch of his pen on parchment.
~ However, in the event you do descend into the dungeon, I have included a rudimentary map of its innards. Not many have descended and come out alive. As such, the information about the dungeon is painfully sparse. However, several traps have been recorded in those dusky halls - whose diagrams I have likewise provided. ~
He would help The Resistance in every way he could - so long as his person wasn't put in danger. He knew of the rumors… The Cultist, Yharim's head mage, was no longer employed under The King. He hadn't been fired (that Tyrant never fired anyone. He just chopped off their heads) so he must have fled his dungeon post. Flee to where, one might ask? Some said he simply wished to retire. Others speculated he took a long sabbatical to focus on his cult. But anyone with half a brain knew The Cultist was too power-hungry to leave such a lofty position… if he was leaving one kingdom, he had joined another...The Resistance.
Heh… a new age is coming...
What a scandal! Who could imagine! The King's head mage had defected to Braelor's Revolution? And if the stranger rumors were to be believed, he was supposedly training that new - incredibly powerful - 'Hero' in the ways of magic. Braelor's Terrarian. A walking legend. The invincible soldier. A pipe dream? Disinformation? Propaganda? A grossly overexaggerated conspiracy?… Nobody knew for sure. Nobody even knew how a Terrarian was supposed to look or act. The only records of them were age old fairy tales…
But... The King had gone to war.
So there was a chance the rumors were true.
The Resistance was already fighting against The King. They didn't need a vengeance hungry Noble knocking on their doorstep with that monster-man in tow. It was best for everyone that that pair exhausted themselves searching for the Cultist in the Dungeon, then lived quiet lives henceforth. That was the decision The Travelling Merchant had made on behalf of his young client.
~The Lunatic Cultist may be found in the deepest bowels of the Dungeon. Nobody knows what dangers lurk in those torpid halls, so remain exceedingly vigilant. The topography of the landscape has been included with the rest of the documents, along with descriptions of the dangers in the area. Take Care, Young Noble and best of luck.~
The Travelling Merchant sighed as he looked over his letter. The purpose of this note was to preserve his client's life and misdirect him entirely from the growing resistance movement. It was misinformation, yes. An illegal sales practice… but The Travelling Merchant felt no remorse. He blew lightly on the ink before carefully rolling it together with the supporting documents; binding the sheaf of papers into a tight scroll and sealing it with a dab of wax. He stowed it in his bag, dusted off his sleeves and stood from the rickety old chair.
It was time to head back east.
"We should jump."
"Uh…"
The chasm yawned at them; its jagged, blasted out edges jutted sharply inwards like tremendous teeth coating the throat of some great stone creature. The Guide was seated at the edge of the deep shaft, panting from exertion as he looked down into the murky abyss. There was a faint otherworldly light emitting from somewhere deep below, but instead of providing comfort it only barely illuminated the depth of the tunnel - just enough so they could see how deep it was. He turned to The Terrarian with a grimace painting his face. He narrowed his eyes.
"Jump? Are you stupid?"
The Terrarian responded in a flat voice. He didn't recognize that he'd just suggested a double suicide. He was squatting, balanced precariously over the edge of the hole and doing his worst to convince The Guide it was a good idea to shatter their skulls on the crags below.
"There's water at the bottom."
The Guide rolled his eyes and took a long swig from his glass water bottle before tossing it down into the hole. It made a whistling sound as it plunged down into the darkness, then - after a suspensefully long time - finally hit the bottom with a loud crack. They both winced at the sound, then made faces as a grinding noise echoed up towards them as some creature began crushing the glass into powder. The Guide carefully leaned forward to peer over the ledge with wide eyes.
"Yeah… Not nearly enough water. I know you're tough, but even you'd be a corpse after that. Can you see what's down there?"
"..."
There was the shift of gravel as The Terrarian mimicked his posture, taking a seat at the edge of the chasm. He likewise peered into the darkness, and The Guide could see the gears turning behind that visor. Although The Terrarian boasted a tremendous number of physical abilities, he still knew too little about basic physics to get around new environments without bashing himself silly. Aboveground, The Terrarian conducted his motions with a weightless, alien grace. That's why it was so jarring watching him leap upwards to knock his head on jagged ceilings or hook himself to cliff sides to ram himself full speed into them. The almost-man seemed to suffer no damage from such activities save temporary disorientation, but it was still painful to watch.
Honestly if he weren't as tough as he is - he would've killed himself a long time ago…
Initially, The Guide had mostly ignored his companion's bumbling, but after watching his battle with The Giant Mushroom Crab, The Guide had become concerned for his companion's structural integrity. The Terrarian didn't appear to be particularly bothered by the horrid gash the monster had laid across his back. It had bled profusely, having split the bonded victide breastplate in two and exposing the vertebrae of his spine. It was truly a miracle he wasn't snapped in two right then and there. Right now, the man was essentially being held together by staples and bandages. Could he really afford to be running into cliff sides and falling into caverns?
Let's not test that out…
There was a scraping noise as The Terrarian stood to his feet. Evidently he didn't understand the concept of 'rest' and, as always, was itching to do something. He shuffled through his invisible inventory, summoning and disappearing several items in quick succession. A thousand bits of rope, a metric tonne of stone, the Mushroom Plasma Root (Put that away! I need you sober!), and finally a handful of grenades (No, NO!). Eventually he sighed and spoke aloud.
"Then, Guide. What do you want to do."
The Guide sighed and once more squinted into the darkness. It was common knowledge that this world was filled with a myriad of dangerous creatures. The ocean-dwellers were particularly ferocious, however, typically didn't attack unless provoked. The last thing they needed was for The Terrarian to throw a handful of grenades into this hole, and trigger a reaper shark attack.
He needed to investigate. He held out a hand.
"Torch, please."
The Terrarian obliged him; likewise raising no complaint when the torch was tossed down into the abyss. Both watched as it descended, illuminating the depths as it fell, until it finally hit the bottom and extinguished in the pool beneath. They only barely caught a flash of what awaited them in the depths, but it was enough to make The Terrarian raise his hackles. He quickly kneeled down beside The Guide and tossed another torch in. Once again, they watched it fall. It bounced off the shell of a tremendous mollusk with a clink before the flame hissed into darkness.
A moment of silence.
"It's a... clam."
"Slayer… that's a Giant Clam."
Slayer: Guide, why do I have nipples.
Guide: ... uh.
Notes: 1) Okay TLDR for the Travelling Merchant section. Travelling Merchant heard that Cultist Defected to Resistance. Wants to divert Guide&Slayer to dungeon because he knows Cultist won't be there. Several reasons why, One: He wants Guide alive to keep doing business Two: he's a resistance sympathizer. 2) Terrarian tried to swallow the Mushroom Plasma root whole, and Guide had to heimlich it out of him. He's gotta wait to go home before eating it. lol. 3) I'm seriously running out of ideas for the ending skits^ help me.
Thanks for your support! much love