17 - Dungeons and Rare Spawns

The Forest rose before Anilith and friends, its thin canopy creating a warm, welcoming picture of an idyllic summer day. Small creatures scurried about, their movements clear to her growing senses, painting a scene she’d been blind to, her first time traveling into the Forest’s shaded boughs. It looked, for all the world, as pleasant a place as she could imagine, its earthy smell inviting.

Anilith’s heart hammered in her chest, struggling to differentiate the scene before her from the dangers she knew lurked deeper within.

“The Tower has a way of masking its death traps, don’t it?” Orion glanced around, appreciating the serenity before him. “Still, never hurts to take a moment and soak it all in, eh?” He looked over and noticed her tension. “You okay, kid?”

She took a deep breath before replying. “Yeah, I’m good. These last few months have really shown me how little I knew when I came here the first time. Now, I don’t know what I was thinking. You always remind me how lucky I am, and I’m starting to see what you mean.”

“Hey, it’s our luck now. Did you see their faces at the outpost? They musta checked those bodies three times over, when we said they were Scythers. Not that I don’t get it, can’t say I know many people as would know what one looked like. Still, their tools come from the Tower itself, and those ain’t gonna lie.”

She thought of the paper detailing their reward, safely nestled in her ring. “Yeah, and that doesn’t even count the one we saved for Mingus. Something tells me he’ll be interested in that one. Might even give us something fun for our trouble.”

Almost unbidden, the chunk of armor she’d saved after her last encounter in the Forest found its way into her hand from storage. Over and over she turned it, palming it in a way that did nothing to hide it. She’d pulled it out a few times in camp, but Orion had never asked about it. It wasn’t a secret she’d chosen to share, and didn’t look like much more than a rock, even if he could sense a deeper connection lingering on it.

Feeling emboldened by her apparent distraction, he asked, “What is that, anyway? Seen you pull it out a few times now, and you don’t seem the type to hold on to any old rock. Sure, storage tools can lead to some pretty bad hoarding problems, just ain’t seen you storing useless things.”

She looked down, only now realizing what she held. “Just a memento from the last time I was here. Mingus said it would be useful; I just find it calming. It may sound strange, but it’s my rock. There could be many like it out there, but this is mine. It makes me feel…solid. Grounded, stupid as that sounds, even to me. Still, it’s my little piece of this magical place that I carry with me.”

Orion’s eyes seemed to glisten with a hint of recognition as she explained the rock, but he grunted noncommittally, and the glisten faded. “Kid, when you get to be my age, seen the shit I seen, you don’t question the things that comfort others. It could be a rock, a trophy, a memento from a fallen friend. Everyone has their things, and even if they’re worthless to anyone else, that don’t mean they’re worthless.” He sighed. “More an’ more, I find it all comes down to perspective.”

Anilith flipped the rock a few more times before stashing it away, her connection to the earth fading somewhat, before she looked over to the man. Slowly, like the moon reveals its faces, a different heart shone through the callous surface he put on. Somewhere, buried in there, was a man she’d only glimpsed in the shadows his armor cast.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad sometimes, old man.”

“Hey, cut it with the old shit. I said I seen a lot, but I got a lot more in me. I’m just…experienced.” He nodded for a second. “Yeah, that’s it. Now, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She looked around for a second. “Have you seen Razhik?”

“Oh, he won’t be far, but it’s been a while since he’s gotten to play in the Forest. I’m sure we’ll see the signs before long. We’re off to play a little deeper ourselves, anywho.”

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“I’m pretty sure he alerted the entire Forest on the way here,” Anilith declared, leveling a finger towards the grinning creature.

Recently returned from his frolicking, Razhik sported a red beard, a trophy from his efforts. “Did not! I could have been much louder, thank you very much. Besides, it wouldn’t be any fun if I caught everything without any chase, and seeing a herd of deer scatter is just delightful. Does spoil the flavor a little, but, alas, the things we do for entertainment.”

“Well, maybe you can keep it tame now that the trees are starting to darken. You might scare off most creatures, but sooner or later, something is gonna try its luck.”

Razhik started to spit out a retort, but Orion held up a hand. “She’s right, Razh. I let you have your fun so we could approach this next bit with a little more caution. And you stink. There’s a stream a little bit that-away, go rinse that stink off.” Orion pointed to the left of the game trail they’d followed on their way into the Forest. Razhik left, muttering under his breath.

Anilith had grown accustomed to Orion’s nigh omniscient lay of the land. No matter what section of the Plains they’d explored, he’d known landmarks and directions, even without a map. “You always know a spot. Guess that’s why they call you the Wanderer, eh?”

“Kid, I’ve seen more of this place than anyone has a right to, and it still surprises me constantly. I don’t like surprises, so I try to always be learnin’. Don’t ever stop payin’ attention, and you’ll always find somethin’ new to learn. An’ here’s a lesson for you. You know why the places outside the Plains are more dangerous?”

“It’s not just a convenient training scheme? I don’t know. No one has ever mentioned a reason, just always been told to be careful, not that I fully appreciated the warnings.”

Orion led Anilith into a clearing, moving over to a few fallen trees. He kicked them a few times, sparking her curiosity. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” Orion said, as he gave the logs another good couple of kicks, “trees make a good enough seat, but you should never assume somethin’ ain’t made it a home first. That should do, though. Most things would be a mite pissed by now, so shouldn’t be anythin’ too bad in there.” He sat on one of the logs and invited her to do the same. Noticing Razhik had returned from the stream, he added, “Razh, keep watch. This is important, and a conversation best had before we get much deeper.”

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“Sure enough, the Tower’s layout here makes a convenient trainin’ program, but there’s more to it than that.” He pulled a flask out of his cloak-of-many-pockets, taking a quick draw on it. “See, more dangerous creatures group up out here. There are more Rare spawns, too, although that name's a little misleadin’. They come from somewhere, see, not just spring out of holes in the ground or poppin’ into existence. Folks have worked a long time to see where they come from, but end of the day, all we have is theories.”

“And what’s your theory?” Anilith sat and pulled out a snack, happy that she stocked some for moments like this before leaving Spokane, the last time they stopped in the city.

“Well, it’s incomplete, ain’t it? But I’ll get there. First, you need to understand what’s out here, what really makes it dangerous, and what we’re here to take a peek at. It ain’t a coincidence that monsters group up in these areas, nor that these places get more dangerous the deeper you get. See, there’s a place in each, a seat of power that serves as a fortress for these beasts. Here, you can usually tell you got too close when the Forest quiets around you.”

Anilith thought back to her first foray here, remembering the moment she noticed the lack of sound. “Yeah, that makes sense to me.”

“Figured you mighta had some experience with that,” Orion said with a wink. “Well, that silence lets you know you’re near the Dungeon.”

“Dungeon…” Anilith sounded out the word, understanding some of its connotations through the primer. “A prison? Why would the creatures make a prison their stronghold?”

“Ah, well,” Orion scratched his head, “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I’ve felt a while you think I make these names up, but that ain’t the case. Somebody started callin’ things Rare spawns and Dungeons and the like Ages ago; I stopped fightin’ the trend a long time ago, now. May be that the Dungeon isn’t really a prison, may be that nobody’s ever figured the connection out. That’s really neither here nor there, though, kid.”

“Folks have been known to clear out these places, from time to time, an’ it always makes the surrounding area safer for a while. Still plenty of dangerous things around, the Rares just ain’t as common then. Lots of theories on why, but most, myself included, think it’s ‘cause the Dungeon needs repopulatin’. It closes off for a time, see, anythin’ beyond the entrance sealed off. Nobody knows what happens behind those doors of stone.”

Anilith thought a moment. “If people clear these things out regularly, why don’t they try to take them over? If the creatures can use them as strongholds, why can’t we?”

“Can’t say I’ve considered that angle.” A look of genuine perplexion lingered on his face. “Most folks can’t wait to get out, from what I hear. Don’t know from personal experience, but word is they’re unsettlin’ inside. Still, maybe there’s somethin’ to that, maybe we’ll see. Set you straight on somethin’, though; folks ain’t go in and clear them out often. Double-edged sword, that, see? Dungeons are more dangerous than their territories, an’ more have gone in to be lost than have come out again victorious. An’ there’s somethin’ else you ain’t considered. Fewer Rares outside of Dungeons, as happens when they’re cleared, means a harder time huntin’ for better rewards. Sure, you might have the haul of a lifetime if you clear a Dungeon, but that area’s gonna have a long recovery afterwards. Most adventurers don’t see the trouble worth it, and generally agree to leave the things be, unless things start to get too dangerous.”

“I can’t really imagine things getting too much more dangerous, if everything Mingus told me about the group I fought holds true. I was lucky to make it out of that, and it sounds like there are a lot more where that came from.”

“That’s why we’re here, kid. Your little misadventure makes me think that things are worse than we know. See, the Guild assigns danger levels to areas based on casualty numbers. You, bein’ alone out there, would hardly have made a note if anyone noticed at all. May be that you just stumbled on them, in the right place at the wrong time. Either way, seems to me things aren’t addin’ up out here.”

Orion sighed, looking down as he shook his head. “Been tryin’ to tell people a long time now; this approach is dangerous. Let things fester long enough, and you’ll find an amputation the only cure. Nobody ever listens to old Wanderer, though. Sees disaster around every corner, that one. Worries me though, the thought of the Forest bein’ this bad. Folks hunt here more than other places, but nobody gets too close to the Dungeon anymore, preferrin’ to thin the herd at its edges.” He spat on the mossy Forest floor. “I keep an eye on the Dungeons, though. Someone has to.”

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. The sound of birdsong imbued the glade Orion had chosen with the evanescent quality of life. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, washing everything in hues of green and yellow. A gentle breeze drifted through the clearing, bringing with it the mossy scent of the Forest.

“So easy to take the sounds for granted,” Orion mused, “never appreciatin’ how easy it is to snuff a life. These birds are fleeting things, so full of life while they’re with us, before the next generation takes up their song. People fear the monsters, goblins and ogres and all the rest, but they forget sometimes. It’s us as are our worst enemy; It’s people I fear the most.”

He looked over to his young companion. “It’s too easy here, folks forget. A dam can only take so much before it bursts, and the pressures been buildin’ here for Ages, now. That’s what really worries me. Hard times bring out our truest selves, an’ I ain’t so sure we’d like what we see if someone don’t make some changes, an’ soon. The monsters out here, they’re downright predictable, never a question of if they’re out for blood. People, they’re a whole other beast, with layers of intention. Monsters that wear the skin of your kin, lie, easy as anythin’; they’re more frightenin’ than anythin’ I ever seen out here.”

Anilith looked at him, unsure how to reply, or even if she should. His faithful flask was in his hand, the somber atmosphere drawn close around him like a cloak. In that moment, she saw in him the sadness that lingered around the edges of his smile, a sadness she hadn’t recognized at first. She realized then that he needed this moment more than she did, and she was happy to give it.

She thought about the things he’d said, about how the Guild didn’t have the full picture, how things were more dangerous than they thought. Something didn’t sit right with that, and she wasn’t sure which was more likely: that the creatures were more intelligent and organized than they knew, or that people were willfully suppressing the truth. She thought back to conversations she’d had with Orion, about how much he’d seen in his travels and how he moved around, keeping an eye on things others didn’t seem to bother with. He couldn’t be the only one, could he?

Finally, she knew the moment had to end, or the man might find the bottom of that flask she’d never seen him refill. Quietly, she asked. “Orion? Why are we really here? This isn’t just about reconnaissance, is it.”

The Wanderer looked up, a distant look on his face, as if he were peering through the curtains of time, seeing things she couldn’t imagine, slowly faded. “Oh, of course it is. It’s all recon, ain’t it? Keep your eyes open, and you’ll never stop learnin’. Kid, we’re here to make a difference, while there’s still a difference to make. Things are movin’ in the dark, and if we don’t start makin’ moves of our own, the dark will take us all.”

He stood up, squared his shoulders, and placed the flask into a pocket. He started walking, then paused to look back over his shoulder at her. “You comin’, kid?” Continuing his march, reminding her of a soldier walking towards what may be certain doom, unfazed by the duty of it, he left the glade behind him.

Anilith followed, her heart hammering, awed by the honor and conviction of a man she’d never have given a second look if fate, or whatever design, hadn’t put him in her path. The Forest swallowed them both as they prepared for a little reconnaissance, Razhik falling into step, nearly invisible in the shadow of the trees.

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