Dungeons Are Bad Business

14.

Rattling and clattering, the skeleton lancer charged forward on its bony pony and struck the ectoplasm on the wall with its lance. The weapon, a small and jagged red spear that looked like something a child might make out of sticks, sank into the blue-green goo and quivered. However, the blow did not pierce the boundary, and Kai was able to lasso the minion with a well-aimed root. Vee waited for the bonsai treant’s barkbody to wrestle the skeleton to the ground and then asked, “Well, what do you think? Can we keep them in the menagerie until we need them in the dungeon?”

Kai got up and gestured to Dandelion, who hurried over and took hold of the root so that the lancer wouldn’t be able to escape. The eyes of the barkbody went dim and Kai himself popped out of the top. He looked a little tired, with his branches mostly bare and the flowers on his shoulders faded, but his jade green eyes burned with excitement and energy the way they always did.

“I think it’ll be okay. I’ll have to pump some extra Green Spirit into the warding hedges to make sure that they’re tall enough so the lancers can’t ladder themselves up with their ponies and jump over, but that shouldn’t be a big deal with Dandelion’s help.”

The fiend swelled with pride, and Vee noticed the tiny glimmer of green in its eyes was more vibrant than it’d been when he’d seen it a few days before. It was still a good deal duller than Kai’s, but was definitely heading in that direction.

“Alright, that’s good to hear” Vee said, tucking the stack of warning labels that’d come with the skeletons away into his coat. Though he’d only skimmed the first few sheets, he’d noticed the word “Warbands” printed more than once…which was a little worrying. “I was afraid that we’d have to lock them all in here and make the most of it until springtime. Now, let’s check out the elementals.”

He walked over to a blue wood box and looked down at the label. It said: Minor Frost Elementals, and had a big W logo on the side. Vee squinted at it and tapped Reginald’s brim.

“I’ve never seen this logo before. Also, didn’t we order lesser ice elementals?”

“Frost elementals are close enough,” his [Majordomo] said. “As for the logo, it’s probably just a different supplier or something. Maybe these were cheaper for the union to get or something.”

Vee opened the box and took out the invoice slip. It too said Lesser Ice Elementals, but beneath it there was a handwritten line that said, “Product unavailable, closest substitution made – D.W.”

Well, there went that question. The minor frost elementals were cuboid things as big as both of Vee’s hands clasped together, with squeaky voices and disproportionately large blue eyes. They squealed like pigs as they slid back and forth in the makeshift pen of ectoplasm Vee slapped together for them, spitting tiny ice cubes now and then.

They seemed a little underwhelming for dungeon minions, but Vee figured he could make them work.

Honestly, since they were actually kind of cute, he’d simply put them to work in the Lobby if they didn’t work out in Crestheart.

He looked at the bonsai treant. “How do they look?”

Kai laughed, and his upper branches quivered. “They’ll be fine. Or they should be so long as the slimes don’t get to them too early. We’ve got a big pen ready for them, so I’ll go ahead and take however many you don’t want for the dungeon right away back to the menagerie once we’re done here.”

Vee grinned. “Thanks Kai. You know, you’re doing a great job over there. I really appreciate all of your hard work. I’m sure it can’t be easy to keep things growing when you’re Snowsapped. ”

Now it was the bonsai treant’s turn to puff with pride – quite the sight, given all the bark – and Vee grinned at the fact that Dandelion’s earlier gesture had been an almost exact replica of Kai’s. He made a mental note to add the mimicry to his list of observations regarding the fiends later; it was an interesting divergence from the rest of both the medium section and the other sections of his orchestra.

“It wasn’t much,” Kai said as he clambered back into his barkbody. The wooden construct’s eyes started glowing once more, and the [Menaovei Caretaker] got back to work wrangling the lancers.

Vee’s focus returned to his task, examining the rest of the delivered minions and deciding on the best way to allocate them in the dungeon. His ultimate goal was to get Crestheart back to normal in terms of minion count per run, but secondarily he wanted to preserve his supply for as long as possible.

It was going to be a delicate balancing act. By his count, Vee had only gotten about sixty percent of the minions he’d ordered. Worse, some of them were damaged – including one of his skeleton lancers that’d had an arm destroyed with some sort of polearm – so he’d taken Reginald’s advice and ordered more right away. He’d even paid for expedited shipping, hoping to take advantage of the lull in bandit activity provided by the open call’s recent activities. Doing so had almost doubled the price of his order, but after seeing how quickly adventurers lost interest in Crestheart without minions to fight, the [Dungeon Master] was more than willing to pay it. An old favorite saying of his father’s echoed in his thoughts: “You can’t put a price on resilience.”

The [Dungeon Master] smiled bitterly at the rest of the recollections that came along with the first, then shook his head and resumed his work.

Alforde, Kai, and Dandelion had assembled roughly half of the skeleton lancers, and they were already getting into mischief. Riding around with their jaws chattering, the minions swung their lances at anything that got close. Their tendency to congregate in pairs and trios – the warning’s usage of the word ‘Warbands’ seemed ever more apt – made them natural pack candidates, and so Vee decided to take a closer look at the supplied specs and suggestions.

Unlike the skeletons he was familiar with, these lancers couldn’t change forms depending on how they were equipped, but they could use a greater number of skills. There was [Charge], [Piercing Stab], [Trampling Blow], [Pursue], [Warcry], and [Rebuild].

That last skill was the most interesting of the entire lot, as far as Vee was concerned. It worked just like [Lesser Rebuild], giving the lancer a chance of coming back after being destroyed, but had a twenty-five percent chance of activating instead of fifteen.

In theory, that should mean that his supply of lancers wouldn’t run out too fast, but it was far from a sure thing and he was still going to be cautious about how he used them.

Especially since he only had a hundred and eighty.

Vee clapped his hands and Cecil floated over. The [Ghost Maestro] had summoned the [Excellent Spreadsheet] earlier to help keep track of the minion inventory, and looked at the results. All told, he’d received a maximum of 180 Skeleton Lancers, 300 Skeletons, 500 Minor Frost Elementals, and 2000 Lesser Ghosts. Those numbers would probably decrease by the end of the day; Vee didn’t have all the damaged ones properly accounted for yet.

He just had to make them last. His own slime and ghost supplies – not to mention Mr. Chills – would work to supplement Crestheart’s numbers, and if all went well, the dungeon would be back to “normal” the next day.

Assigning Reginald and Do to the task of installing the newly created packs, Vee stood up and headed toward the door. He still had another task to complete before heading back to the boarding house. He had to track down Torres and see about getting some flyers made for both the snowball fight and the dungeon restock. He had a nagging instinct that it was important to soothe the [Stationer]’s wounded ego and do what he could to help the man bounce back from the dearth of guide sales.

A loud snapping sound came from the other side of the room and drew Vee’s attention. The [Dungeon Master] looked back and saw Dandelion wrestling with the one-armed lancer. The fiend was winning, probably, but the skeleton was fighting back with a surprising amount of determination. It was plucky.

Maybe there was something to build on there? He didn’t know much about how skeletons worked, as proper necromancy wasn’t really his wheelhouse, but Vee thought he might be able to do something to bolster the minion’s natural qualities.

Leaping through the air and making a shrill noise that could only be [War Cry], a second lancer hit Dandelion with its pony. Kai’s apprentice fell away, but thankfully looked unhurt as both minions darted away. They were subdued by Alforde, who grabbed them both in a big bear hug and ignored the blows of their bony fists.

Vee rubbed his chin. So the lancers had an instinct for hit and run tactics, huh?

That gave him an idea.

[Plotting +1]

Basking in the radiant warmth of his sanctuary, which some lesser souls might call his office, uncultured swine that they were, Torres carefully laid out his finest writing instruments and smoothest papers. Ambrosial purpose stirring in his breast, the [Stationer] ran his hand over each of the textured pens and savored the sensation. He paused for a moment – nay, for a heartbeat – as he closed his eyes. Would the muse, poetic inspiration that She was, appear before him now and bestow upon one of his pens Her divine blessing? If only he would be so lucky.

Torres waited in perfect silence…save for his breathing and the incessant scratching of that damnable dog – capricious canine companion! – at his door, savoring each and every anticipation-tinged heartbeat the way a freshly planted olive tree savors at least six hours of uninterrupted sunlight every day.

Alas! Oh, alas indeed! She was silent! The muse, fickle temptress that She was, had abandoned him! And he! The greatest of Her followers! What a travesty upon his gentle existence!

Opening his eyes, Torres reached up to twirl his mustache, angrily staring at the ceiling as he did so. With a voice that trembled from pure, unadulterated emotion, he wailed, “Oh why, oh why have you for-for-FORCHOO!”

A dust bunny, or perhaps a bit of pet dander – curse that mangy dog and all of his descendants! – had gone up his nose and caused him to sneeze! After a repeat performance as boisterous as it was heartfelt, Torres was a new man. Or at least, a different one.

That wasn’t just hot air, either. The sneeze had caused [Front And Back] to activate, temporarily freeing Torres from Heart Of An Artist, the stat which he loved and hated in equal measure. Still, there was no time for dwelling on his blessed curse; he had to be quick with his work, for he never knew how long these periods of clear thought would last. Without any fanfare, he hurried to grab a pen, paper, and ink that would work for the jobs he’d gotten from Vales that afternoon. He just had to make some flyers, so any of his tools would do the job just fine, if he was being honest. The blue-haired punk wouldn’t know good writing if it punched him in the face!

Gawain’s balls, that felt good to think!

Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to freely do so. Instead, he would have to agonize over his every word and every thought, spinning tortuous turns of phrase that genuinely hurt his soul – no, he wouldn’t compare the act to a slice of cheese being grated, stupid brain! – before making a decision that ultimately mattered very little.

Such was his life.

The [Stationer] frowned as he found his turns of phrase growing longer, and his thoughts started stretching like fully-cooked spaghetti noodles. Oh no, was [Front and Back] starting to activate once more?! But he hadn’t sneezed! He wasn’t ready to flip back yet! Please! Just a little longer!

His nose, filthy traitor that it was, twitched. Torres had to hurry. Throwing open his ink chest with desperate energy, the mustachioed man grabbed the first bottle he saw – a lovely midnight blue, with an angel’s kiss of shimmer and a luscious sheen that sang beneath proper light – and dunked an empty pen into it. Gritting his teeth, the [Stationer] yanked a piece of paper – Rediya – over and started writing as fast as he could.

Do you want to get stronger? Test your skills against the best Crestheart has to offer! New minions, new challenges, and a new Mini Boss encounter! Can YOU defeat the terrifying Mr. Chills? Come find out!

It would serve its purpose. Copy was easier to write when he was like this, and he’d make the most of it. Honestly, Torres had no desire to spend the rest of his evening coming up with flowery snippets of verse that he’d struggle to fit together before finally accepting that they weren’t going to suffice. He had other plans that were much more –

His dog scratched at the door again, and Torres sneezed. He cursed as the world took on a familiar lilac hue, and within seconds was clutched tight in the thrall of Heart Of An Artist once more.

Alas, such a short period of sweet relief, a small glass of cold lemonade on a scorching hot day! A thimble of water on a desert journey! A…a…a not enough time!

Wincing, Torres stood up and opened the door, letting Milly the now-happy pup bound inside. The tiny brown furball ran up to Torres with his sausage-like tail whipping back and forth and licked the man’s hand. The [Stationer] frowned and took a big sniff of air, but no sneezes were forthcoming.

He considered the dog for a long moment. Conventional wisdom claimed that these creatures might be man’s best friend, but this particular specimen – who’d eaten his own waste more times than Torres could count! – was more like the longwinded uncle at the family reunion who insisted on telling the same three stories every year than a true companion: deeply grating and barely tolerable.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Torres had to admit that the pup was cute and generally agreeable. With a small smile, the [Stationer] leaned down to scratch beneath the critter’s chin. A joyous melody of bright barks filled the office, and as the fluffy furball hopped up to settle in his lap, Torres decided that he could spare a few minutes away from his noble, exhaustive duties that normally demanded so much of his time and attention.

The flyers weren’t going anywhere.

Main Character Sheets:

Vee Vales

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

Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar’s Crest), Level 17

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

Might: 12

Wit: 32

Faith: 21

Adventurousness: 7

Ambition: 13

Plotting: 18 (+1)

Charisma: 12

Devious Mind: 21

Leadership: 16

Guts: 12

Intimidating Presence: 9

Citizenship: 20

Public Relations: 6

Alforde Armorsoul:

Primary Class: Hammer Afficionado (Self), Level 21

Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 12

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar’s Crest), Level 14

Additional Class: Glaciernaut (Sacha Silverblade), Level 3

Might: 38

Wit: 12

Faith: 25

Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 8

Endurance: 18

Intimidating Presence: 13

Heart of a Champion: 8

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 8

Vigilance: 6 (+1)

Vanity: 4

Reginald:

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

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

Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 39

Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 14

Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 7

Might: 1

Wit: 32

Faith: 11

Ambition: 26

Greed: 22

Deceptiveness: 27

Manipulativeness: 35

$#&*!@!!

Loyalty: 45

Patience: 10

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

%^(@#!! @#$@!@#

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 7

**************

Bonus: Torres Character Sheet

Alubardan Torres:

Primary Class: Stationer (Self), Level 38

Secondary Class: Sneak (Dahlia Samuels), Level 24

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

Might: 22

Wit: 75*

Faith: 31

Penmanship: 51

Greed: 17

Ambition: 42

Smooth-Talking: 37

Mustache-Twirling: 29

Budgeting: 26

Stealth: 33

Hustle and Grind: 14

Heart Of An Artist: 60

*(Modified by [Inflated Sense Of Self Worth])