[February Special] DC/RH: Amron Swiftblade I

DC/RH Special: Amron Swiftblade I

The plains of the second floor were vast in scope. The chamber he was in was so large that if you stood at one end, you couldn't quite make out the other side of it. To the uninitiated, the place was a wash of green and brown. Tall grass, dead in some places, grew damn near everywhere, and no matter how easy it was to forget, there was always a niggling reminder that you were underground. It jumped out at you when you drew too close to the cavern walls or looked up past the strange light stones beaming light and heat onto your brow into the rocky ceiling. Still, he loved it.

If you wandered off into the brush, you'd find yourself in thick grass that grew up to your armpits. There, a simple half-crouch would see you disappear, free to stalk the unwary as practice. Away from the beaten paths, the underbrush became a hidden, private world. There were so many interesting things to see. He'd found monster nests, corpses, bizarre magical plants and even made a special friend. If you were tired, a palette of grass was fine to rest on, and both thirst and hunger were easily solved. The scattered shrubs often had tasty fruit on their branches if you knew where to look. After weeks of this, he knew this place like the back of his hand.

Amron didn't think he could tire of it. That feeling he felt when he climbed up the eastern rock outcrop just to sit and stare at the animals gathered further below at the watering hole wasn't something that could be replicated outside. He hadn't quite understood the appeal of 'natural beauty' until he came here.

For him, the wilds were dirt and sweat, discomfort and insects. It probably helped that he only had to be here for short periods. Instead of slumming it in the wilderness like he would be when forced to on an extended mission on the outside, he could simply return to Black Briar town when he was tired. After a hot bath and a good meal, he would be primed to come back again sometime later in the week.

The outside world could get extremely grating. When that happened, he could return here to his rocky outlook and reclaim his peace. Disturbed by his passage, a giant badger turned to look at him before waddling away with a dismissive snort. Amron wondered, not for the first time, how many adventurers knew this secret, that most of the dungeon creatures were happy enough to let things lie. They only responded to visible threats. A passive clear approach would have them treat you like any other beast of the plains. Not the blightwasps, though. Those things were hate incarnate. Amron made sure to return that hate in kind.

As he drew closer to his usual perch, Amron picked up sounds of merriment. Human merriment. The change in his demeanour was immediate. Scanning his surroundings carefully, he found no watchers and nothing that would give him away. His hand reached for his neck and pulled his mask back into place. Slowly, his figure faded away. There was no visible effect, no smoke and certainly none of the inky black darkness he'd once seen used to cover a retreat. Amron's stealth skill was practised and perfect, effective on nearly everyone he had even used it on. He didn't need to rely on parlour tricks.

Usually, at this point, he would walk away, move to another chamber or leave the dungeon outright. The Realm of Valour was dangerous. Adventurers would react badly if they bumped into people exploring alone against the guild's recommendations, especially since solo dungeon delves were against this branch's policies. You couldn't even book a delve slot as a five-and-under team without special permission. Despite all this, Amron remained at the foot of the outcrop, sharp eyes staring at the top.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. He circled the place and confirmed his suspicions. The watering hole was empty of its usual visitors. No wonder the place had seemed too quiet. Traces of battle could be found everywhere he looked, and the air was heady with the stink of spilt blood. An unusual fright burst to life in his chest as a dark thought occurred to him.

Before he knew it, Amron was clambering up the exposed rocks that made up the outcrop. On reaching the top, his worst fears were made manifest. Six adventurers had made camp atop the peak. The noise he had picked up on the approach was their celebration. The cause of this celebration was placed in the centre of the camp for all to see, an iridescent bow made from golden antlers. Amron's blood went cold. There was only one creature that could be from.

The 'elite dungeon' had been open for months now, and over time, two kinds of adventurers had emerged. The clearers and the gatherers. The gatherers were a small but significant portion of the population who spent their time trawling the fields looking for treasures. They looked for herbs, hidden treasure chests, strange resources and even slaughtered some of the wildlife for meat and leather. It was good, steady work that was fast becoming the bedrock of the town's economy. It was also safe and boring.

Most adventurers in the Black Briar Hills focused solely on beating the bosses and/or delving ever deeper. These were the clearers. They focused on 'clearing' a dungeon floor. The bosses offered the best rewards. Clearers would beat a boss twenty or thirty times until the rewards became too shit to bother, and then they would move on to the next floor to do the same thing all over again.

These days, you could retire off a staff from the wisps on the third floor and a full armour set from the armoured bear --cuirass, gauntlets and boots--- could set you up for life, provided you found the right buyer. Bows from the first floor tended to be confiscated by the guild, unfortunately, and being the guild, their prices were appropriate but definitely not in keeping with the market. Blightbows were fantastic tools for killing, and their existence had already become legend all over the four kingdoms. Smuggling any related materials had been made a crime: one Amron committed on a regular basis.

However, the floor bosses were not the only significant creatures in the dungeon. There were also certain special 'elite' monsters. These creatures were so rare as to as to have their existence become a subject of dispute; the gleaming stag, the vanishing stoat, the watching raven and even the queen blightwasp. These ephemeral creatures roamed the dungeon, with most adventurers being none the wiser. When he first caught sight of the gleaming stag, Amron thought he was having a waking dream. It was only after overhearing rumours of it in the tavern that he realised it was likely a real beast. Even then, it took several days of searching for Amron to find it again. It was weeks still before he managed to befriend it and now, it had been slain, ambushed at the very watering hole he often met with it.

Amron saw red.

This is Part I of the monthly patron special!