Chapter 96: The Implock – Chapter 90 – “Fortune Favors the Bold”

∼ Fortune Favors the Bold ∼

Chapter - 90

"That'll be one gael and two drel." The barkeep grunted out, working away at polishing a glass, not paying the robed figure much attention. With a mouth full of stew, Nyx retrieved a pouch and simply poured out its contents on the wooden bar, not bothering to look up as he was occupied with eating his fill.

The barkeep slowed as the polishing stopped, hesitating before he warily picked up what coins he needed. Nyx merely continued eating, relieved to finally have something proper to eat after days of wandering in the mountains. The pilfered egg had been good, but nothing he could find in the wild really beat whatever humans could cook up.

Having been dealt the grace of that strange old man, Nyx had found this remote town after about a day's walk; a small settlement that lay along one of the flatter areas of the Spine. The race diversity was much greater here, with it being in the smack middle of the Spine, finding it equal parts human, dwarven, and gnomish.

That meant for Nyx that upon arriving, he met one such gnome. Who even was so gracious to lend him his robes and money - and totally wasn't lying unconscious in a ditch just outside of town right now. Gracious indeed...

He'd be out of here soon, anyway. He needed only food, clothes, and directions. Of which he had gotten all. However, as Nyx ate away, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A board was nailed to the inn wall closest to him. Upon which was a multitude of mercenary requests.

They all were listed as something called an 'open request'. Meaning that they'd stay open for any mercenary and even non-mercenary to attempt. One just had to complete it and bring whatever proof listed as a requirement to the nearest guild-affiliated registration office to claim the reward.

However, this also meant multiple mercenary groups could contest the same request at the same time, often leading to bloody conflicts. This was why these types of missions generally weren't present in the Guild Halls themselves, but only out here in the remote fringes that didn't have any immediate guild presence to help alleviate their problems.

Most of the requests pinned to the board were of a low-to-medium difficulty for Silver Mercenary groups, either asking for raw material requisition such as ore, beast hides, and exotic herbs - or monster-slaying to root out the threats that plagued all the many settlements dotting the mountainous landscape of the Spine.

However, it was one request specifically that caught Nyx's attention. One of the monster-slaying variety.

[Hunt: Rock Golem]

A juvenile golem has been terrorizing the Drainhart Region - giving rise to a collective effort to root out the issue. The settlements have pooled a reward with help of the Mercenary Guild for a grand sum. A lesser elemental, this powerful monster grows slowly over decades. However, it is a threat not to be neglected. Regardless of the fact that the creature has been reported of its young maturity, a juvenile lesser rock golems are no weaker than a Gold-ranked Veteran. Beware mercenaries.

Recommended Rank: Veteran - Gold

Reward: 2500 Gael

There was no party size stated, which meant it was possible for a single capable person to handle it. Still, it was a gold-ranked request, those which brought considerable danger. Multitudes more than what Silver requests did. But what truly had Nyx intrigued, making him completely disregard the glaring danger this request offered, was the fact that the golem was a lesser elemental. A creature of magic.

Meaning, it had a core.

Nyx began feeling excited at the opportunity. As of yet, he has had no chance to further his own core as monsters such as himself grew their magical sources only by evolving, aging, and consuming other magical monsters' cores. Imps, in this case, were an oddity - considering that monsters with magical capabilities usually only came in versions greatly more powerful than a mere tier-one monster. This also meant, that before now, Nyx, unfortunately, hadn't had the opportunity to hunt any or purchase the core of previously slain magical creatures. They were simply that rare - and that powerful.

Compared to the slow and tedious nature of meditating, ever-so-slightly expanding one's mind, consuming cores for monsters was supposedly a quick and easy method of rapidly expanding one's core. Allowing monsters for explosive growth. Not just was this request offering a sizable sum, but the spoils of the hunt weren't listed as a requirement for completion. So whatever he gained from the corpse would be his. Nyx practically sprang at the request, forgetting all about the empty bowl of stew and the money on the table.

Ripping off the board, Nyx read through intently. However, the innkeep voice cut in. "-I'm afraid, you're a little late for that one." He said, nodding to the paper in Nyx's hands as he looked his way. "If you wanted to find and join a group to hunt it, one just headed out this morning, a large one full of powerful silver mercenaries." He shrugged.

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"They've been staying here the last few days, preparing for the excursion. A rowdy lot, all of them mercs." He sighed, going back to polishing his glass. "You might've been able to join them if you had been quicker. Though, I reckon you'd be better off staying away. Those golems are some foul creatures. Their kind has destroyed many a town along the mountainside, killing their fair share of opportunistic mercenaries over the years. A damn menace they are. Listen, if you want to-" He began saying, looking up from his polishing, but stopped when he realized there was no trace of the robed gnome... Gone, the door just swinging shut as the gust of the stormy weather outside pushed on it.

...

Nyx was already out of the inn, his little legs kicking at the ground as he sped along the gravel roads leading out of the town, rain beginning to pour down from dark and thunderous skies. This be damned though. As if he was going to let some damn mercenary group beat him to it. This monster - was his.

‹ Erain Siedemere ›

Feet trod along the wet and muddy road snaking down the mountain, squishing with every step. The rain had picked up as stormy clouds rumbled not far above and everyone was in a relatively sour mood. But most so was the towering woman leading the procession in front, the massive broadaxe hiding her impressive back muscles that gleamed wetly with every strike of lightning.

"-Gah!" She suddenly exclaimed, a foot planted against a small boulder as she kicked it down the foot of the mountain, letting it tumble with mounting speed. "How much more time? I can't fucking take this!" Her entire body heaved in frustration, looking as if wanting to lash out at anything that moved to merely release her built-up tension. The newly recruited mercenaries not so accustomed to their captain's temperament backed up warily.

"Erain, calm." One of the three finely-robed figures in the group placated, his presence standing out amongst the three and their band of nearly one and a half dozen silver-ranked mercenaries - all of them highly leveled and proficient in their chosen expertise.

Whirling on the robed figure, she scowled. "It's been two fucking weeks. Two weeks! For what; a couple of measly silver commissions and a handful of gael? We don't even know where to find this pile of moving rocks."

"The reward for the completion is hardly the true reward of this hunt. You already know this, Erain. Besides, I think it'll be hard to overlook a golem. They're supposedly quite noisy. Not unlike you." He said calmly, completely unaffected by her otherwise frightening visage and presence. The muscular woman sucked at her teeth before she tsked and simply turned and began stalking down the mountain road once again. While Erain's temperament was one without patience or restraint, she wouldn't actually lash out at anyone. At least not those of her party... Intentionally...

"I don't know why you insist she keeps the mantle of captain. Even she herself doesn't want it." One of the other robed figures surrounding him said, coming in close as the rest of the mercenary band just watched their leader storm down the road.

"It's not a matter of who does what. The title goes to whoever is strongest as a symbol. And I'm fine staying in the dark, it's just a matter of time after all." He broke his gaze from Erain, looking at his fellow mages. Thomas and Edna, both dear friends of his despite being in a whole league above them in magical capabilities.

Still, his potential hadn't been enough for him to attend the prestigious academy of Arcanum. At least not in the official branch of the academy. All mages were welcome in the city, of course. Instead, he, Thabel Morridnor, had ventured to prove himself out on the field. As a mercenary. In the hopes that he might catch the attention of a true mage, one that had attended the academy. So he himself might also one day be recommended to attend.

Of which, everything had worked out perfectly for Thabel of course. Having gone exactly to plan up until now...

The other mages nodded gravely to what he had said. "Sir Gideon has been very attentive to your actions as of late. You think you might immediately join the group when you get to gold?" Edna asked excitedly.

Thabel sighed, unable to hide some of the nervousness he felt whenever thinking about it. "That's the plan..."

But... if just he had gotten that warlock on board, then he wouldn't even have to worry about whether or not Sir Gideon would give him a letter of recommendation. But of course, Erian had gone ahead and blown that one up. His fault for not reining her in, he reasoned. In the end, he hadn't just failed in recruiting one of the rare archetypes of magic wielders but he had created a rival for his spot at a recommendation. Sir Gideon had taken notice of the warlock, expressing more interest in him now than he did Thabel...

The group had caught up to the irate Erain, though still keeping a wary distance from her hulking form. And as they continued their trek down the mountain, in search of their hunt - something happened. Or rather, someone happened. A small figure, in dirtied modest robes, suddenly came tumbling down the side of the mountain from an overhanging pass seemingly having been caught in a rockslide caused by all the rain and loose ground.

Laying on the road in front of the entire group, what Thabel and Erain supposed was a gnome, appeared to be a little dizzy before he swiveled to notice them all. But what had both Thabel and Erain frozen in place, were the almost golden eyes peering up at them through the gnome's hood. Although the robes were entirely unrecognizable - they could never forget those eyes.

Nyxel Brasshand, himself. Resident warlock and source of all Thabel's latest troubles. As if a gift from the gods themselves. Had come to grace their presence. All... alone...