Winfrey
"Trellis, go clean out the other corridor, the rest of us are headed to the upper floors," orders the leader of Rambling Rose imperiously.
"Yessir," Earthen Trellis - a tall, dual-sword wielding Fighter - salutes with one of his swords.
"Miss Fields, lead the way, please," Hadrian smiles calmly.
"Mhm," I walk ahead of the group, then ascend the dusty stone staircase, ready for combat at a moment's notice. The discomfort of movement still exists, but since the lengthy training session with Silver, I feel like I've more or less adjusted to how it works here. Enough to kick his ass a few times, at least.
A small part of me wonders why we're even bothering with the upper floors, but it's the boss's orders, and Rambling Rose don't seem to be objecting, which makes me a little suspicious of their motivations. I surmise they're probably looking to loot the place for valuables - if they can get into the storeroom where they store all the confiscated items, they can make out like literal bandits.
It's not like the people locked up in here are any more deserving of it all, I suppose.
A group of heavily armoured soldiers await us at the top, spears ready to deter further progress, not willing to risk myself, I call back for assistance, "Mages, you're up!"
The spellcasters catch up quickly and start their chants without any complaints, though Hadrian at least looks a little indignant at being ordered around. Whatever, not my problem.
Gouts of fire erupt from the soldiers, forcing them to recoil and giving an opening the melee combatants and myself are able to take advantage of, cutting them down roughly before they can recover from the rather minor conflagration.
"Tch, no experience again," Hadrian complains, "Alright, search and destroy, people, I want all these rooms cleared before we move up to the top floor to deal with a probable miniboss."
The Rambling Rose members voice their agreement and split into pairs, moving smoothly in different directions and different doors, the one-sided slaughter of the workers continuing with efficiency. Not seeing much reason to contribute to the mindless murder festival, and lacking any specific orders, I instead elect to stay behind with Jade and keep an eye on the stairs to the third floor.
"Hm. Something about this indiscriminate death and destruction doesn't sit right," Jade murmurs, "I mean like...I like a 'to whom it may concern' style carpet bombing of enemies armies approach to dealing with problems but this has high-key political extremist vibes."
"Not entirely inaccurate," I agree, "At least one of the prisoners is here because it's politically inconvenient for him to be wandering around telling the first government agent he comes across that Geronil is a demon worshipper."
"What're the odds these poor fucks respawn once the dungeon expires?" she muses, tapping her thigh with an arrow.
I think about it, "Possible, I suppose. I don't know how this whole City Jail mechanic works exactly, but I don't see how leaving the place completely unstaffed until somebody comes back from their lunch break or whatever is something that's a good idea. Elsewise, every Quest that got undertaken like this would make it nigh-impossible for a City to function."
"Eh. If it keeps those fuckers from the gate incident in here for a few more days, you won't hear me complaining," Jade comments pragmatically.
The conversation peters out into an awkward silence, with a lot left unsaid. The trickle of returning Rambling Rose players is something of a relief, even if they're not the friendliest bunch to us. Politely tolerant of our presence would be a more accurate descriptor, which is rich considering they're the hirelings in this enterprise.
Hm. I think Silver's superiority complex is rubbing off on me. Also, not a thought that I want to be voiced out of context. Yikes.
"Find anything?" Generous Morning asks around.
"A few piles of the documents that Silver asked for and a Copper-Tier Dagger," a woman named Quan Youzhang supplies.
"Shame it's a dagger," Hadrian sighs, "But it's better than nothing."
"We're more likely to find something valuable on the top floor, sir," the officer named Harn Terr - fuck that's an awful pun - points out to him.
The imperious Guildmaster nods sagely, "That would certainly follow logically. Onwards!"
Cells B5, City Jail, Meteo City
With a click and a clank, the cell holding the key NPC, Trom, is unlocked. The old, bearded Firm is not in great shape, considering the length of his imprisonment and the negligence of the jailers which are likely encouraged to get the Appraiser to die of 'natural causes' in his cell before some clerk somewhere starts asking questions about why he hasn't been taken to trial yet, given that he is, nominally, a criminal awaiting judgment.
"Thank you kind sir and madam," he whispers hoarsely, with the slightly glazed-over eyes of an NPC not equipped with a sophisticated AI like Henna - who is pulling double-duty as a Mentor NPC and a key Protagonist role in a major storyline. Talking to him will likely only get a few canned phrases about how evil Geronil is, or how he needs to get his story to the authorities, etcetera, etcetera. Trom is functionally a MacGuffin character.
"Let's go," I tell them, sparing a glance at the dungeon timer, "We've about 15 minutes to get out. Should be more than enough."
"You sure this guy can walk up the stairs in that kind of time?" Olrica regards Trom sceptical.
"No, not on his own power, at any rate," I sheath my sword, "But I don't see why that would be necessary."
Not bothering to ask for permission, I scoop the filthy man up in my arms and drape him over my shoulders, feeling my scalp prickle from the sweat-caked grime. Trom doesn't say a word, and if I couldn't feel the swell and fall of his breathing I'd almost think I killed him by accident.
"Wow~ How romantic. When's the wedding?" Olrica smirks, shaking with silent laughter.
I narrow my eyes, "I find myself questioning what you consider romantic. Come on, we have about 6 flights of stairs to climb."
"Whee..." the assassin grumps.
"I've got my hands full, so if we run into any opposition, it's still your job to handle it," I inform her, "Our priority is getting him up to the entrance, so if necessary I'll Rush past any enemies that show up, and you can use Camouflage to slip by."
"Roger that."
I hate escort missions like the rest of the civilised world, but being able to just hoist the target on your back like a sack of potatoes and run with them is always nice when that's an option. RotA NPCs get a lot more irritable about it, not that I blame them.
City Jail B1, Meteo City
Returning to the rest of our group takes the better part of five minutes, and they all look anxious about the dwindling time limit when we arrive. Fortunately, it doesn't look as though there's been any additional fighting since we went down below, nor are there any enemies currently here, so we can all leave to the lobby immediately.
"Hey, boss," Angelus pushes to his...feet? Ehhh going with 'feet' for convenience, "That the last guy?"
"Yeah, this is him. Anything we've missed?" I ask quickly.
Yopha waves her hand in the negative, "Nothing of importance to the operation. We're set to leave then?"
Glancing around at the gathered people, I nod, "Yes. Head up to the lobby, hopefully, the others are already waiting for us."
I consider putting Trom down and making him walk his own way, but at this point, I'm over a week past due for a proper bath and I've already carried him this far, so who even cares at this point? Buckets of water and washcloths will only take you so far. I'm just glad players aren't expected to have to answer Nature's Call.
"You gonna just keep carrying that guy or..?" Olrica questions as we start walking.
"I'm not about to take any chances," I tell her.
Henna looks a little closer at his face, "Isn't that the Pioneers Alliance Appraiser, Trom?"
"Hello, Miss Rask..." Trom waves weakly.
She looks questioningly at me.
Sighing, I adjust my grip on the old man, "To give you the much-abridged version: Geronil abducted your father as a sacrifice for The Magpie Demon and imprisoned Trom here after he found out about Geronil's kidnappings of Panoplasts in the city."
Henna starts, "He...Geronil took my father?"
"Yes. Sorry for your loss," I empathise, "He'll get what's coming to him soon enough, so don't go running off after him - no offence, but you're no match for him. None of us are right now."
Henna grits her teeth, "I.."
"Once we get Trom to safety, the Empire's military will be brought down on his head - we'll have our chance then," I soothe her, "I'm sure your father taught you that 'haste makes waste'. What we can't do on our own in the moment, we can accomplish with allies and preparation."
She calms down a little, "I understand."
Tick. I feel like my integrity decreases inversely proportionate to each bit of inspiration Henna receives. Even so, I can't have her running out of here and busting down the door to Geronil's office, and I'd hate to have to restrain her physically from doing so. Might have been smarter to wait until we were out of the city to tell her about it, but Henna deserves to know.
Passing over the last step and rounding the corner, I can see a few people waiting at the end of the corridor from the topside group, though not Jade or Windy, worryingly. I hurry my stride accordingly, "Looks like they might be done up ahead."
"Good, I was getting bored of this place," Astra replies monotonously.
"Likewise," Jupiter concurs, sticking his head into one of the open office doors, "Yeesh, you guys do not play around. It's a mess up here. Like, Untermehnen Kolibri messy."
"The fuck does that mean?" Astra questions.
"Night of the Long Knives. It's a political purge in the 'indiscriminate murder of people who don't agree with me' vein of purge from the Nazi party's heyday," I supply, familiar with the history not so much by reputation; but because my Art History degree covered the staggering amount of vandalism and theft of important artworks and architecture throughout Nazi-occupied Europe. Some of those works are still missing over a century and a half later, though hope for their recovery is largely gone by now.
I may not be as big on art as I used to be at this age, but it still leaves a bad taste in the mouth, not even getting into the rest of it.
"I could have done without that comparison being made," Yopha shudders.
I more or less agree, but the cynic inside me feels the need to point out that such methods of political expediency will never truly disappear. One need only look at recent history during the global recession for examples of it.
The semi-famous damage dealer from my time, Earthen Trellis, greets us as we arrive, "You're all done?"
"Yeah, where's the rest?" Yopha asks, looking around.
He points upwards, "The Warden's office, trying to crack into his safe."
I look at the time, "They'd better hurry up then, they don't have long left. Are my teammates up there as well?"
"They're waiting in the reception area," Dennis Ion, a Silva Hedge Mage, directs, "Guildmaster Hadrian said to tell you not to leave without us, as we're not sure if the dungeon will vanish once the objectives leave the area."
"We'll wait a couple of minutes, but we'll be leaving at a minute before the timer ends regardless, just to be safe," I inform him.
The Rambling Rose officer nods, "Understood. Trellis, could you run up and tell them - politely - to get a move on? I'm not eager to stick around any longer either."
"Ten-four," the big man shoots up the stairs.
"Any difficulties?" Yopha asks, joining her group.
"The Warden was kind of a pushover, honestly. The ranged dps killed him before he even stood up from his chair," Dennis reports, "I don't know what they get paid, but there was a lot of fancy-looking vendor trash in there that might sell for enough to make this trip worth it even if they don't crack the safe open."
That'll be Geronil's bribe money at work.
Putting Trom down, at last, I move from the lobby to reception with Angelus and my rescuees trailing behind. Olrica, naturally, stays behind with her comrades.
"Took you fucking long enough," Jade says the moment we show up, "What took you so long?"
"500 Cells and 6 flights of stairs down and up, plus the time it took to pick the locks and deal with any jailers," I inform her calmly.
She rolls her eyes but doesn't respond back. Jupiter, however, seems to have gotten tired of keeping his mouth shut.
"That's a fuckload of cells. And almost all of them are populated by dudes who want you dead. Living the life, eh?" he jokes, speaking rapidly, "Been listening to some of these mouthbreathers talk for hours at a time and you're all they ever seem to talk about. Like, no joke, they're straight-up pickling in bloodlust down there, like an army of boiled eggs."
"Sounds fun," Windy remarks, "Got all the documents you wanted, boss."
"Good, depending on how meticulous they were with their corruption, we might be able to squeeze a little extra out of the Empire officials with it," I smile. Any chance to earn more brownie points is a good thing, and any evidence contained within would likely turn up missing once we left without it.
"If there's anything sensitive it'll be in the safe," Jade points out, "Dunno if they can open it though."
"With our main objective completed, it's not something I especially care about," I brush it off, staring at the timer, "When we leave this place, we're all going to the same place we used to get out of the city last time, alright? So no wandering off. Hopefully, he's still available."
"Alright," Windy agrees, "A minute and ten seconds left, boss. We waiting for them?"
"No," Angelus answers, "They're here."
Rambling Rose filter into the reception area, with a very irritated Hadrian King at the head of the group. Looks like they failed to get the safe open in time.
"Silver," He acknowledges.
"All ready to go?"
"Yes. This is where we part ways, I believe?" he questions.
I nod, "We'll be making our way to the Quest hand-in point. If you don't receive a completion notice once we leave, you'll know we made it out when it comes in."
"If you fail and the negative level penalty is imposed upon us, I will be making my displeasure known," He warns, glaring at me.
"We have enough time to get out before anyone raises the alarm, assuming you've dealt with all potential witnesses?" I snipe back.
Hadrian snorts, offended, "Yes, now let us go."
City Jail Exterior, Meteo City
Exiting the instanced dungeon, into the darkening city we say a brief farewell to each other and head on our way. I do make sure to remind Olrica of the need for us to talk after, ostensibly as a means for me to check that Rambling Rose managed to get away from this operation undetected.
"Nice. I feel like this is something I should tick off my bucket list or something," Jade mutters, stowing her bow away in her Inventory.
"Ahh, breathe that fresh freedom air and 5 simultaneous level ups!" Jupiter inhales and fist-pumps dramatically, "Say, can we take a moment for me to allocate my shit real quick?"
I think it over, "Make it quick."
Although he doesn't have any of his items, as a Hedge Mage he can still contribute to a fight with spells. Better he does it now than become dead weight should we run into any of Geronil's goons. While he won't know about our little operation, I and Henna still have active bounties on our heads - although, since her imprisonment, Henna might not be being actively hunted anymore.
"Sweet. Gimme that 50 Imagination biiiiitch," he cackles manically.
"Shouldn't you put some of that into other stats?" Angelus - the other Hedge Mage present - questions.
"Eh. I can compensate with gear and later level ups. Right now, I hit about as hard as a wet noodle with my spells. My Minor Ignite is more like a Minor Topical Rash," Jupiter shrugs, "You feel me? Like, emotionally, not physically, please do not actually touch me."
I can 'feel' Angelus mentally labelling Jupiter as a lost cause just from the look in his eyes. No, don't look at me like that, I'm not responsible for this idiot's build decisions.
