Dungeons Are Bad Business

Bonus Content: The [Wyrmblood] [Coinductor]



Gavin Galtsbane slammed his fist against the wall of his dressing room, sending six golden fleurs spinning into the air where they stayed. The rest of the pile that he kept on the counter to amuse himself with before bouts scattered, but they basically remained where they were.

The [Dungeon Champion] looked at the coins for a moment and sneered. Not even the sparkle of gold in the air could soothe his temper just then. He snapped his fingers and the floating fleurs zipped over to his left hand, forming a neat stack atop his palm. Another snap and they zipped across the room to join their fellows on the counter. A third snap made the pile presentable once more.

Simple tricks, for a [Coinductor] like him.

However, simple as they were, using his skills required him to move his injured body. He winced. His back, shoulders, and arms were still partially transformed and covered in glittering ruby scales. Eggs and flame, his back hurt. That human filth got me worse than I thought he did.

Stripping off his dirty outfit and turning around, Gavin stared at his reflection in the mirror. Both of his wing joints – shoulder blades in this human body – bore serious wounds courtesy of Larsene Canis III, the [Starfire Swordsman] he’d faced that evening. How Gavin hated him! He was nothing, a mere human! Yet he’d had the audacity to smirk as he drew his {Sword of Silver Stars} free of Gavin’s wings. The physical wound would heal – or to be more precise, would be healed – but the injury to Gavin’s pride might never go away.

The memory of the adventurer’s smug expression burned in Gavin’s mind. Should they meet again, Gavin would make it a point to show Canis how slow and telegraphed his signature attack was. He could have dodged it easily, would have dodged it easily, but alas. Next time, he’d dodge it. Next time, he’d rip the adventurer’s arms off and show the world the real difference between their strength.

Not good; his [Draconic Temper] was flaring up. Instead of fading like they were supposed to, the scales on his biceps and forearms were getting more pronounced. Closing his eyes, Gavin tried to master his emotions. Scarlet rage swirled through his body, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get it to abate. A real dragon would have already accepted the outcome as necessary to protect the hoard, he told himself. But then, I’m not a real dragon, am I?

The thought was sobering, and Gavin felt his rage slowly bleeding away. Finally, he calmed down enough that he finished transforming back into a human and sat in his luxurious chair until he was sure that he had his temper under control. Shaking his head, Gavin rang the bell to alert the [Healers] that he was ready for their ministrations. Dressed in their strange green robes and bizarre goggles, the fat man and skinny woman hurried into the dressing room and examined his back.

“It looks pretty bad,” the fat man said as he poked and prodded the muscle around the wound. “I thought he’d cut your wings right off, Gavin.”

The skinny woman opened up one of the many jars she carried on her belt – like she was a [Bottler], or something! – and spread a vile blue paste atop the wounds. The sludge congealed and Gavin’s eyes filled with tears as it stitched muscle and flesh back together. Once the wounds were covered to her satisfaction, the skinny woman handed Gavin a multitude of vile concoctions that made him want to vomit.

“That’s how you know they’re good for healing,” she said when Gavin complained.

The [Dungeon Champion] rolled his eyes and fiddled with a gold fleur until they left. The touch of gold against his skin was soothing. He flipped the coin from finger to finger and called more from across the room to join along. Sending them spinning through the air brought him a small measure of joy, and he would have been perfectly content to sit there naked for hours, the air around him rippling with heat and dancing coins.

Unfortunately, his peaceful respite wasn’t meant to last, as a resounding knock on his door reminded him that he still had other [Dungeon Champion] duties to perform. As if he hadn’t already done enough that night to entertain the filthy masses.

“Press conference is in five, Champ. Make sure you’re dressed this time.”

Gavin growled. You forget to put on clothes one time and the dimwit in charge of knocking on your door still thought it was worth mentioning two years later. Directing his coins to stack themselves neatly on the ground next to his chair, Gavin stood up and looked over at his post-fight outfit.

It was his favorite suit: an ivory jacket with crimson and pink roses up and down the sleeves, matching pants, and a black shirt to go with it. He winced as he slid the shirt over his back, but once he buttoned it up halfway and popped the collar, Gavin was distracted from the pain by how well it framed his chest muscles. He flexed, and grinned at the way the fabric looked like it was on the verge of bursting. Tucking the shirt in, he put on his pants and cufflinks. Shaped like dragons in flight, the cufflinks were made out of gold and adorned with diamonds. Gavin loved the way they sparkled.

Putting the jacket on was easier than the shirt had been, and Gavin had to grin as he looked at himself in the mirror. Looking good, Galtsbane. Looking gooooood.

As he walked down the long hallway to the press room, he felt a familiar, aching desire. He wanted to go and gamble. His throat burned for some booze, and his desire to throw some dice was almost nauseating. How he longed for the embrace of Lady Luck! Maybe after the press conference he’d slip down to Jerah’s and –

No, that was how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place. He was going to stay away from the betting houses for at least the next few months. Give himself some time to clear the weakness out of his system. Yeah, that was a fine plan, and the [Wyrmblood] grinned at his own resolve.

He’d have to find some other distractions in the meantime, but he didn’t mind. Pleasant companionship was always easy to find with muscles like his.

“Tough battle out there tonight,” a woman’s voice behind him said. Gavin spun towards it. Curse these pathetic human ears! How he hated the dullness of human senses.

The speaker was a tall, blond woman with ice blue eyes. She was dressed in the stodgy brown uniform of the Dungeon Sport Commisioner’s office, and Gavin’s heartbeat quickened in his chest. Why was this woman here? Did she suspect something?”

No, there was no way that could be the case. His performance that evening had been flawless! Every last detail was impeccable. His attacks that just barely missed their mark, his dodges that were just a hair too slow, his inability to dodge Canis’ final strike. Gavin was a master, and they were all perfect!

This must be some routine matter, then.

Bowing his head, Gavin flashed the woman his most powerful [Seductive Smile]. “Indeed, it was a difficult battle, and I regret coming up short. Might I ask what brings such a beautiful woman to see me, Miss…?”

“You can call me Agent Hailake.”

Gavin puffed out his chest a little bit – not so much as to be obvious, but enough that she’d have no choice but to marvel at his majestic pecs – but the woman’s expression didn’t change. She was like granite.

Another blow to his pride! What a cursed night this truly was! But fine, if she wasn’t amenable to his charm or susceptible to flattery, he’d simply have to shift tactics once more.

“And how might I assist you, Agent Hailake?”

“I was curious about your battle with Canis, and was hoping you could answer a few questions for me.”

“Well, I’m about to go have my press conference, so surely if there’s something you want to know you could wait until then to see if I answer there. I’d rather not repeat–“

The woman held up a hand and Gavin’s voice died in his throat.

“Why didn’t you use your [Molten Rain] when Canis rolled into the southwestern portion of the arena?”

Gavin’s heart started pounding even faster. She suspected him! His acting must not have been as ironclad as he thought!

Somehow, the [Dungeon Champion] managed to keep his expression even. He shrugged and did his best to affect the most honest expression he could. He hoped it’d be enough.

“My other fire attacks weren’t working, so I sought to win the fight by closing the distance and overwhelming Canis in melee combat. I didn’t even really consider using [Molten Rain], to be honest. The heat of combat and all that.”

The agent cocked her head to the side. It was true that Gavin’s fire attacks hadn’t done much to Canis. The adventurer had some sort of skill that rendered them virtually useless.

“But according to the [Dungeon Champion Analysts] in our office, you’ve used it in almost three quarters of your matches in that position. Even if it didn’t win the fight for you by itself, wouldn’t it have allowed you to get a better position to win in melee? Surely it would have been better than putting yourself in range of [Meteor Slice], right?”

Gavin shrugged again. “Every fight is different, madam. They’re chaotic. The difficulties faced by actual combatants are hard to measure with the tools your associates use, so courses of action that might seem obvious to them are not always so clear in the heat of battle. Have you ever fought in a Champion’s bout?”

The agent shook her head and Gavin thought that he might have succeeded in steering the conversation away, but this woman wasn’t to be deterred! Letting the inquiry into his choice of attacks fade away, she pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and opened it up.

“Next question, Mister Galtsbane. Are you aware that you were the obvious favorite for tonight’s bout? Jerah’s had you at twelve-to-one, and they were the closest to even odds in the city.”

“I don’t know anything about that, I don’t have anything to do with the betting houses,” Gavin said quickly. Too quickly if the way Hailake’s eyebrows snapped up meant anything.

“Oh really? That’s odd. I’ve heard that you’re a regular at Jerah’s. Lots of people have seen you there playing Horses and Fool’s Wheel. Are you saying they’re lying?”

“No, of course not,” Gavin snapped. “Forgive me, I misspoke. I enjoy card and dice games, but I don’t pay attention to their dungeon sports betting operations. Are you insinuating something? If not, I really must be going to my press conference. I’d rather not add to my shame at tonight’s loss by also incurring a fine for tardiness.”

After glaring at him for a moment, she shook her head.

“My apologies, Mister Galtsbane. I was simply curious, as I’m a big fan and hate seeing you lose. My apologies for taking your time.”

With a slight bow, the woman turned and walked back down the hall, leaving Gavin alone with his thoughts before he headed into the press conference. Hailake definitely suspected him, but it seemed that she didn’t yet have solid evidence to make her case. He’d have to arrange for her to meet some manner of unfortunate accident. Or would that attract too much attention and possibly interest one of her associates? He’d have to think about it once he finished up here.

Such a matter was delicate, and best handled with careful consideration. It wouldn’t do to simply take the first course of action that presented itself to him.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin opened the door to the conference room and strutted inside.

He was met with the familiar flashes of image crystals, but was used to them and so didn’t shy away from their brightness.

His seat wasn’t nearly so luxurious as the one in his dressing room, but Gavin made sure to put on a big smile that was slightly abashed as they peppered him with questions. They were the same boring questions they always asked – What were you thinking about before tonight’s bout? Were you surprised by Canis’ aggression? – but he made sure to graciously answer each one to the best of his ability.

The words of his [Dungeon Master], Clairdelun Debussy, echoed in his thoughts. I don’t pay you to fight, Galtsbane. I pay you to look pretty and give the press what they want.

Making sure that his back remained perfectly straight, Gavin was the pinnacle of gracious in defeat. He was personable and pleasant, cracking jokes and bantering with the [Reporters]. He hated every second of it, but they’d never know.

Finally, the tide of questions slowed to a trickle, and then stopped completely. Gavin thanked the reporters for their time and left.

He was still not free of his duties as [Dungeon Champion]. Win or lose, so long as he was physically capable of doing so, a big part of his job was to go out and greet some of the spectators crowded outside the dungeon. On nights when he won, this wasn’t such a bad thing. He never minded being heaped with praise, but on nights like tonight where he’d lost, the crowd was an entirely different animal.

Instead of compliments and cheers, Gavin was met with boos and curses as soon as he stepped outside.

“You bum! You’re worthless!”

“My grandmother could have fought better out there tonight, and she’s been dead for twenty years!”

“If the [Dungeon Master] keeps you around, she’s lost her mind!”

For a moment, Gavin had to wrestle with his instincts. Men and women – though mostly men -- who’d never so much as been in a fistfight bombarded him with opinions of what he should or shouldn’t have done, and it took all of Gavin’s self-control to not transform then and there to give them an opportunity to put their theories to the test.

That’d probably be bad for publicity, with all the blood and all.

He drew out a coin and let the soothing touch of gold calm his temper, and then decided to take a different approach with the detractors. He held up his hands and the crowd fell quiet.

“Thank you all for your support,” he said. He took a deep breath and let [Alluring Speech] fill his voice. Love me.

“I’m sorry that I disappointed you all tonight, but I promise that I’ll be back better and stronger for my next bout! Thank you all for your passion and excitement, I hope you’ll continue supporting me in the future!”

He smiled at the crowd, whose mood transformed right before his eyes. Humans were such pathetic creatures. Just a bit of suggestion and a few sentences, and the fury of the crowd turned on a fleur and was replaced by cheering that bordered on the fanatic.

In accordance with his desire, they were cheering his name, and Gavin made his way up through the crowd, giving handshakes and signing autographs. It was tedious work, but Gavin grit his teeth and did it. He wanted to make sure that he stayed in Clairdelun’s good graces, should Agent Hailake start stirring up trouble. The [Dungeon Master] had a surprising amount of pull with the local law enforcement agencies, and could probably quash any unpleasant inquiries before they got out of hand.

A child came up to him with a grotesquely-proportioned plushie that was supposed to be his draconic form, and Gavin forced himself to smile. He hated the things, but they sold well.

“Mister Galtsbane, would you be willing to sign this for me?” the boy asked as he held up his toy and a pen.

“Of course, little friend,” he said as he knelt down and flourished “his” stomach with a signature. “Did you enjoy the battle?”

“It was awesome, but I was sad that you lost!”

“I was too,” Gavin said. “But that’s how champion bouts go sometime. I’ll win the next one!”

“Of course, you will,” the kid said with youthful certainty. “You’re the best!”

Gavin handed back the pen and the plush and saw that the kid’s eyes were veritably glowing with joy. He stood back up and made eye contact with the boy’s mother. She stood behind her son and her eyes were sparkling too, though the way they lingered on his chest muscles indicated a slightly different reason.

Ah, what the hell. A job was a job. The [Dungeon Champion] winked at her. She flushed and turned away, but Gavin knew that she’d be talking –and thinking –about that wink for years.

Returning to the crowd, Gavin finished his lap of interaction and turned to head back towards the dungeon.

As he did so, an unassuming man bumped into him. Gavin went to shove him away, but the man leaned forward and whispered in his ear as he slipped a small bag into Gavin’s front pocket.

“Forecast for the next week is sunny, but there’s a chance of sudden hailstorms. Office is keeping an eye out for a suitable umbrella.”

Before Gavin could answer, the man was gone.

His duties finally done; Gavin scurried back to his penthouse as fast as his human legs could carry him. The entire trip, he was terrified of being stopped on street and searched. How had the man been so foolish, making the drop like that in the middle of the crowd? Did he want Gavin to be caught? The [Shadows] of the clan were supposed to be the pinnacle of discretion!

Fuming, Gavin closed all the blinds and locked his door. Eighteen latches fell into place. Then, and only then, did the [Dungeon Champion] feel safe enough to remove the bag from his pocket and investigate its contents.

Six orichalcum fleurs fell into his palm, and the [Wyrmblood] grinned. Payment for a job well done. He didn’t much care for the coins themselves, they were ugly things that didn’t sparkle at all, but they were worth a lot of gold fleurs. It’d be a long time before he could exchange them – he had no idea how long it’d take the clans to find a proper “umbrella” to deal with Agent Hailake – but that was fine. He could wait.

Clutching his fingers around the coins, Gavin looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t ever want to take another dive like this one, but he’d protected his hoard and added to it, and that was all that mattered.

Gavin Galtsbane Character sheet:

Gavin Galtsbane:

+BLESSING OF THE WYRM+

Primary Class: Wyrmblood (Freimia The Victorious), Level +60+

Secondary Class: Coinductor (Self), Level +60+

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Alavakio), Level +60+

Might: +225+

Wit: +100+

Faith: +25+

Greed: +350+

Pride: +200+

Agility: +150+

Endurance: +200+

Intimidating Presence: +150+

Heart of a Champion: +100+

Guts: +200+

Vigilance: +100+

Deceptiveness: +75+

Charisma: +125+

Stealth: +25+

Ambition: +200+


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