PA-01. Den Of Thieves, page 22
part #1 of Pantheon Online Series
Basic Dark Cloak (+10% Stealth)
Stealth Boots (+10% Stealth)
Leather Vambraces (+10% Resistance to Damage)
Leather Greaves (+10% Resistance to Damage)
Inactive Items
Parchment (Work Order)
Lockpicks (9)
Coin (Man of the Mermaid)
Spells
Scan - Level 15
Dark Sight - Level 7
Cloaked Dagger (one time use)
Open Quests
Dimble’s Nimble
The Purloined Letter
Hobo Abode
Gunnar felt a momentary sense of accomplishment at all he’d done the past few days, but it was quickly overpowered by the awareness of all his remaining inadequacies.
He’d played games where the early levels were passed in a few hours, and he could advance quickly through skills, but Pantheon was designed differently. Each of his levels were hard-earned, and his attributes and skills required a lot of work to advance. He had managed to advance a few skills through running and training, but this seemed to largely help his already higher attributes.
Early on, he had thought that it might make sense to pour points into his stronger attributes and skills. But he was beginning to think the points could actually make up for some of his deficiencies. He was able to level up skills tied to Dexterity quickly, hence how he had improved his pickpocketing and climbing abilities so easily with a bit of practice.
But Pantheon had really been forcing him into situations where he needed to round out his abilities, and he expected the party to be no different. He would most certainly need Charisma amongst the nobles at the party if he was going to get near Admiral Benton.
He applied the attribute point and added four more skill points to Art of Diplomacy, bringing it to Level 14.
By then, the sun was beginning to descend behind the Temple of Luka, casting Thailen into the long shadows of dusk.
As Gunnar set out for the crypt, he tried not to think about how much depended on this night.
38
ART OF DIPLOMACY
“What do you think this is? A soup kitchen?”
The Crypt Keeper crossed her arms over her chest and scowled furiously.
They stood in the center of the massive burial chamber where Gunnar, Em, and Kohli had freed the sorceress only days ago.
The room was still a mess of skeletons and rusty weapons, and there was a foul smell that Gunnar was pretty sure belonged to Angus’s decaying corpse, still crushed beneath one of the cages.
Gunnar had brought Cork alone to negotiate with the sorceress, to ensure that all was in order before the others arrived. The dwarf stood to the side, a deep furrow in his brow.
“You said you were in my debt,” Gunnar said. “They’ll only stay until they can find somewhere else.”
The Crypt Keeper shook her head. “This place is enough of a mess from the last person who was let in here.”
“Don’t look like the dead need all this space,” Cork said, scanning the vast chamber.
“You have no idea what the dead require, fool.”
“Yeh see?” Cork muttered. “Even the dead don’t want to deal with no homeless.”
Gunnar shook his head. “If it weren’t for me, that idiot rock star would still be ruling these dead.”
The Crypt Keeper nodded dismissively. “For which we are all grateful. It’s not that I don’t sympathize with this charity situation.”
“Charity?” Cork muttered.
“But you must understand that matters of the dead are sacred, and I won’t have a bunch of lazy tramps mucking up the place even worse than it already is.”
Cork huffed, turning visibly red in the torchlight. “Lazy tramps? Yeh don’t know a damn thing about my people!”
“And you don’t know a damn thing about matters of the dead!”
“Dead are dead!” Cork said, gesticulating at the massive chamber surrounding them. “This is a waste of space.”
The Crypt Keeper’s eyes lit with anger. “You prove my point entirely, uneducated swine!”
Cork growled and turned to Gunnar. “Kid, I should have known better than to fall for this bullshit charade. I won’t sit here and be insulted. This is clearly not going—”
Gunnar gripped his shoulder gently. “Let me handle the negotiations.”
“What’s there to handle?” Cork asked.
“I must agree with the dwarf there,” the Crypt Keeper said.
“Can we all take a moment to breathe?” Gunnar asked. He looked from Cork to the Crypt Keeper. Both grimaced but nodded.
“Alright,” the Crypt Keeper said.
“Fine,” said Cork, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You’re both so busy insulting one another that you seem to be missing the opportunity before you.” Gunnar turned to the Crypt Keeper. “This place doesn’t look much different than when I left a couple days ago. Why’s it still such a mess?”
“I’m one woman,” the sorceress said. “And my first priority is putting the dead to proper rest.”
“Couldn’t you reanimate some of these dead and put them to work?”
As Gunnar expected, the Crypt Keeper’s mouth gaped in disgust.
“Fulcra are an abomination. An extraordinary disrespect to the great people who rest here. I have been entrusted with their care and would never dishonor them in such a way. Angus did enough for many lifetimes.”
Gunnar nodded. “And your hobos,” he said, turning to Cork, “are they a bunch of useless bums?”
Cork gritted his teeth at the term, but shook his head. “Course not. We hit some bad luck in this city, but we’ve all got useful skills of one kind or another.”
“I’m not asking for charity,” Gunnar said. “I’m offering an opportunity for mutual gain for all of us. These folks need a place to stay for the foreseeable future, and this crypt needs a lot of work. This place extends much farther than this chamber, and I’d guess there’s even more that I didn’t see when I was here. Surely there are a couple chambers that could be converted to house twenty people. In exchange, they could help clean this place up, make it a proper resting place for the dead.”
The Crypt Keeper thought for a minute, offering one last glare at Cork, but she nodded her assent. “That could be an agreeable arrangement.”
Cork still crossed his arms, but he also agreed. “My people have no reticence toward labor if need be. Seems this place could become a decent home with some work. A lot of work.”
The two eyed each other for a moment, but finally, the Crypt Keeper extended her hand to the dwarf.
[Congratulations! You’ve reached Level 15 in Art of Diplomacy! Don’t let this go to that thick head of yours! You’ve got plenty of other relationships on thin ice.]
[Congratulations! You have completed the quest Hobo Abode. You have found a new home for Cork and his people. Here’s 70 XP!]
[You have fostered negotiations between two suspicious parties. You have increased trust between yourself and both parties. You’ve earned the Cordial Business Partner badge. Not quite allies, but every great partnership has to start somewhere: +1 to Creativity, +1 to Charisma.]
The experience was just enough to reach Level 9. The world paused as Nymoria congratulated him and awarded him one more attribute point, which was going to be real important tonight.
The burial chamber soon filled with hobos, and the Crypt Keeper led them back into the maze of corridors, with a plan to convert Angus’s concert hall into a sort of dormitory.
Kohli was brought in last. He glared at everyone, including Gunnar. But he was visibly relieved when the mountain orc hobos released him, and he stood close to Gunnar.
The dwarf Kohli had killed stood by Cork’s side, having respawned and rejoined his crew at some point during the day. The dark-haired dwarf did not pay Gunnar any mind, but his eyes never left Kohli.
Cork clapped Gunnar on the back and cackled. “I’ll be honest. I din’t expect yeh’d come through.”
“Why’d you go along with it?” Gunnar asked.
“Like you said, if it wasn’t the two of yeh, it’d be someone else. Least this way, we had a chance. This place might turn out alright. I’d like yeh to meet Furin, my brother from another mother, as they say.”
Gunnar stuck out his hand and the dwarf shook it.
“Sorry about what happened back at the warehouse,” Gunnar said.
“Aye,” said Furin, glaring at Kohli. “Yer mate is lucky I don’t repay the favor. But I reckon this place holds promise.”
“It’s temporary, remember,” Gunnar said. “Once this place is cleaned up, you’ll need to move on. But maybe this will give you a start.”
Cork and Furin both furrowed their brows at this, as though they’d expected him to say something else. “Right, a start.”
“The Crypt Keeper can give you small quests, help you earn some XP. But once this place is finished up, you’ll need to find someplace more permanent.”
The dwarves nodded. “Well, we’d best be seeing to our people.”
Gunnar nodded, and the dwarves shuffled after the rest of their party.
Kohli shook his head. “You best hope this don’t come back to haunt us.”
“Us?” Gunnar said mockingly. “I think I’ll take my own advice from here on out.”
Gunnar began to walk away, but Kohli gripped his arm.
“Look, I know I was a little out of line.”
“You were a damn idiot.”
“I was drunk and angry, and you’re right, I was an idiot. It’s this stupid game.”
“What happened during your trial?” Gunnar asked.
Kohli sighed. “I don’t know. It was going great. We were running a job against the leader of another guild. All of a sudden some mystery person showed up and hijacked the quest.”
“What do you mean by hijacked?”
“I mean I wasn’t the only person sent to rob this dude. Maybe it was someone from another guild. I don’t know. But it all went to shit. They got the loot, and I died trying to get away.”
Gunnar gripped his shoulder. “I’m sorry. This place is rotten, and I don’t think it’s an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’re right. It’s all bullshit. I think this game is… weighted against us.”
“Like it’s rigged?”
“I don’t know. Maybe… or maybe it’s just… I don’t know, a twisted system.”
“Twisted how?”
“I don’t know,” Gunnar said. He started walking toward the crypt exit, and Kohli kept pace beside him. “To turn us against each other. It’s been that way since my opening quest. Look at the trials and the guilds. All the incentives are for looking after yourself, even if it means turning on a potential ally or plundering and pillaging all the low-level characters in the game. And what’s the result? We all steal small gains from other low-levels.”
“So what do we do?”
“Look, I should have left you behind in the crypt. I think the game wanted me to. You should have left me when that undercover Red Cloak turned up. We definitely should be at odds now.”
“You did beat me over the head with a fire stick.”
Gunnar chuckled. “You see? We shouldn’t be friends.”
“Are we friends?”
“I guess that’s up to you. But for my part, if I can help you get another trial, I will.”
They exited the crypt and emerged in the narrow nook of an alley in the heart of the city. The cloudy sky was lit up with brilliant colors. Which meant Gunnar needed to hurry to get to the Golden Hills in time for Dravingdel’s party.
“You think that’s actually possible?” Kohli asked. “Another trial?”
“Maybe… but if I can help, I will. So long as you don’t get piss drunk like that again.”
Kohli clapped his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Gunnar.”
“You too.” Gunnar shook the thief’s hand. “Look, I should be going. But I’ll see you tomorrow for training?”
“We run at dawn.”
Gunnar smiled and headed north as they separated at the first major intersection.
“Hey,” Kohli shouted after him. “Thought you were having dinner with someone from the House of Daggers.”
“Er, yeah,” Gunnar said.
“You’re heading the wrong way,” Kohli said.
He cursed himself for not thinking about that. “Er, right, thanks, forgot to check my MiniNav.”
Kohli pointed at his temple. “Good thing you got someone looking out for ya.”
With that, the thief turned and headed south.
Considering everything Gunnar was dealing with—Sykes and Kohli, Em and the Nighthawks, and now the Crypt Keeper and the hobos—he decided that he definitely needed more Wisdom. He applied the attribute point and distributed all his skill points to Perception, bringing it to Level 19. His HUD teased him with a new Scan ability at Level 20, which would allow him to alter his own Scan information.
The possibilities of that excited him, but for now, he would have to settle for his fake papers and work orders.
Gunnar set out, veering west for a couple of streets. Then, he hurried back north, toward the glittering lights of the Golden Hills.
39
SERVANT
Gunnar was nervous when the guards at the entrance to the Golden Hills asked for his work order. It didn’t help that he had no weapons equipped, having stowed everything in his Inventory when he changed into his party attire. Should they see through his facade, he was screwed.
But when he showed them the parchment Leilani had given him, they swiftly waved him through the gates.
The roads leading up the hills toward Dravingdel’s estate were lit up with far more lanterns than the other night. A short way from the entrance, a minstrel serenaded from an overlook while nobles dressed to the nines made their way to the party. Gunnar felt a bit like a buffoon in his Ben Franklin suit, but he fit right in alongside the nobles.
But for one unavoidable feature, which was made all too apparent when he stopped alongside a group of young nobles watching a troupe of ax jugglers.
“Don’t doddle, Tree Humper!” The young man spat as he spoke, eyes wide with disgust. “There’s privies to be cleaned at the estate, I’m sure.”
It took Gunnar a moment—the moment another young man made an obscene gesture that involved rubbing off a pair of invisible horns on the sides of his head while grunting and making lewd expressions—before he realized why the hell they were even talking to him.
Gunnar instinctively felt at his long ears, then shook his head and chuckled. “Right, Tree Humper. Cuz my people live in trees and shit. Real original.”
The young women accompanying them let out soft gasps.
“Watch your tongue,” said Spit Talker. “Or I’ll—”
“What?” Gunnar asked. “Cut it off? You might have to get your hands on it to do that, and you don’t want to know where this bad boy’s been.”
He glanced at the blonde woman who was clearly with the man.
“You dare suggest that my girl would ever—”
But Gunnar was already trotting off. The other couple chuckled, arousing an angry outburst from Spit Talker.
When Gunnar reached the top of a hill, he glanced back, and the group was once more fixated on the performance.
All talk, Gunnar thought. Typical.
Dravingdel’s estate was lit up like a department store during the holidays. The castle glowed against the night from far off, and it was bright as day at the gates.
Nobles were ushered inside while servants parked their carriages. Gunnar was swiftly ferried around the back of the carriage house, after he showed another guard his work order.
He had to hand it to Leilani. It was almost too easy.
A surly woman handed him a black apron. “You should have been here fifteen minutes ago.”
“Apologies, madam.”
“Don’t waste time, get to work.” She pointed him toward a massive table filled with several trays of wineglasses.
Gunnar immediately took up a white cloth and began polishing them. It was tedious, mindless work. Glass after glass after glass. There must have been hundreds.
He was joined by a dawn elf maiden and a young human woman.
“You’re slow,” said the human after he finished his first tray. She had bright green eyes and plump freckled cheeks and began filling the glasses from a crystal decanter, impressively spilling no wine as she swiftly went from glass to glass.
The elf maiden shook her head. “Both of you are slow.” She gestured to two trays waiting to be filled.
“Why don’t you take these out to the patio?” the human said as she finished a tray.
Gunnar glanced briefly around the room of servants, but caught no sight of Em. He’d expected she’d be here already.
He nodded to the human and the elf and carefully eased one of the trays of full glasses off the table. It was wide and awkward to hold. He placed his right hand at the center of the base, palm up, with his other hand steadying the tray along the side.
Servants bustled all around him, carrying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and Gunnar held his tray as high as he could to avoid spilling.
Dexterity’s a good fit for a bartender too, who knew?
Well, more like bar delivery boy, but it was no matter.
The circular patio contained a large fountain with a sculpture of a pair of pegasus—pegasi? Water gushed from their mouths into a pool about thirty feet across, which flashed in colors of purple and yellow and orange. The patio itself was probably twenty yards across and enclosed by trellises bedecked with vines and flowers. Glowing orbs of light hung from the beams, casting everything in a soft glow.
Nobles began to fill the patio, pouring out of the great hall of Dravingdel’s manor and leisurely making their way down a wide set of steps from the balcony. A large half-moon bar was set at the edge of the patio, and Gunnar set the tray on a small table beside it.
The bartenders were busy preparing an array of drinks, and serving girls ferried them quickly out to the nobles. The servers carried smaller trays, but Gunnar was impressed at how deftly they maneuvered with precariously balanced glasses. Each of the girls was dressed in the same short black skirt and low-cut maroon blouse. Like the girls at the Mermaid, they were as much a part of the show as any actual performer.
