Charles Warner stood at the head of his guild, waiting for their applicant to arrive. The man had claimed to be a 'Tamer', but what that was exactly no one in the Doom Raiders knew. He suspected it was like how Laurence called himself a 'Knight' even though it was blatantly clear he was only a fighter.

But this applicant had added a bunch of pokemon nonsense to the wiki with great earnestness and there was always a chance it was legit. When monsters could appear in a real-life dungeon that gave you stat levels and ability points and magic weapons, nothing was impossible. This may be the third class they'd been searching for, the elusive mana equivalent to health's Fighter and stamina's Ranger.

Laurence had insisted that they should recruit the guy no questions asked, he'd leaked tantalizing hints of even greater knowledge through his answers of the application test.

Charles wasn't so sure. He'd been asking around, and it seemed this applicant had been tampering with the wiki and posting all over the forums trying to get some weird artifact no one had heard of. He wasn't going to accept anyone sight unseen.

He checked his watch. Late.

One point against him already.

Then the applicant appeared, wearing battered leather armor that looked as though it had been in more than a few scraps, frayed at the edges, burned and darkened, stained with blood both human and otherwise. A gremlin strutted along at his side like some sort of tiny herald or perhaps bodyguard, watching the assembled guild members with clear suspicion. The applicant carried himself with utter self-confidence, eyes roving as he took in the surroundings.

Charles felt immediately intimidated, even before he read the tag over his head. Levi Morrison, Level 8 Tamer. It was all he could do to keep his excitement under control. "So you weren't lying about your class," he said, as casually as he could manage.

Morrison's eyes zeroed in on Charles, gaze unflinching. "I'm not in the habit of lying."

"What is a Tamer, exactly?" asked Bella. She looked around, eyebrows raised. "Is it just the gremlin, or do you have a wolf or something?"

"Something." Morrison's smile was thin and fleeting, a flash of humor before his face returned to its default grim set. "I wanted to ask about this dungeon. I'm looking for something that was here until recently, and from what I can find your guild is the only one to have regular access. Have any of you found anything strange here?" His eyes swept across them.

Charles instinctively looked down to where he kept the weird spiky framework he'd found with the treasure map.

Morrison was after that thing? It seemed pretty useless, apart from its rarity. More a trophy than anything.

When he looked up, Morrison was looking right at him.

"Charles? Did you find something?"

Charles scowled, not liking the way the applicant used his name so casually, as though he had a right to, and raised his chin. "So what if I have? You're here to join our guild, not to make demands of us."

"Actually, I'm here to collect the treasure from Dungeon 3 and move on. But I'm willing to trade what I know and provide as much assistance to your guild as possible in exchange. I want you to be better prepared and thrive."

The arrogance of this man! Charles was already annoyed with him, thinking he was better than the rest of them with his fancy unknown class and his extra levels, but he dared come in here and start making demands like this? "It's not for sale."

"It's no use to you without the other pieces I already possess. If you'd rather buy them, we can negotiate."

Charles crossed his arms. "I don't need anything from you."

"Shouldn't we vote on this?" Laurence asked. "If he's offering information we can't get elsewhere..."

Shut up, you big slob, don't let him know how much we want it, that's the first rule of negotiating! Charles silently seethed, but outwardly maintained his composure. He shrugged and pulled out the framework on its chain. "I suppose we can discuss it."

Unbound Framework (Legendary)

Bind what was sundered

"I figure something with a pretty purple tag like that has to be worth a lot." It was the only item above 'Uncommon' that Charles had ever seen or heard of, even if it looked like the ugliest goth necklace and had no effects.

It couldn't even be used with a power stone, he'd checked and the central cage was too long and narrow to close over it. But Morrison clearly wanted it very badly.

Charles could work with that. As long as Laurence kept his stupid mouth shut.

"I have some materials and weapons I can trade," Morrison said calmly, giving no visible reaction to the rarity of the item. "I'll also stay here for a day and answer any questions you have."

"A week," Laurence said, breaking in. "I'm sure everyone has questions."

Charles sent his subordinate a glare. "This isn't guild property, it's my property. If anyone's going to negotiate, it's me."

Morrison, meanwhile, had started setting out items on the ground. Weapons, the weird useless items like empty books and glass balls, the coin-shaped dungeon tokens, and even a variety of power stones. "This is everything I have available. What are you interested in?"

"Junk, all of it." Charles scuffed his foot into the pile of useless objects, sending a staff rolling across the floor and the blank book flop open. His eyes drifted up the Tamer's body, pausing on the glowing sword at his side, and the bow on his back. "But add those two in, and we can talk."

Morrison's eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "I need my weapons."

"I thought this was all you cared about?" Charles stepped closer and swung the framework tantalizingly in front of his face. "Sword, bow, this pile of junk, and a week of info. That sounds fair to me. Probably on the cheap side, for a legendary item."

Morrison frowned slightly, while his gremlin squaked and gestured angrily. "No, it would be a problem if you kill him for me, but thanks for offering."

Charles burst out laughing. "A gremlin? Kill me? That's ridiculous."

Morrison's eyes glinted as his mouth flickered in that tiny, brief smile again. "Oh? Then how about a friendly little wager? You fight Skarm here. If he wins you'll accept my original terms: one day, and your choice of anything from these piles. If you win, I'll give you the full week and my weapons too. Sound fair?"

Charles's laugh turned to a cackle. "Deal!" He could squash a gremlin any day of the week, level 5 couldn't be that much harder than level 2.

Skarm: Level 5

(Horned Gremlin)

Health: 100%

"I'm assuming you don't want him to actually kill you," Morrison said wryly. "Winner is whoever drops the opponent to below 10% health first? Sound fair enough?"

Charles nodded, drawing his two swords. One flickered with intermittent orange light as if in response to his excitement. That sword had cost him weeks of grinding to get. He eyed the brown gleaming shortsword at Morrison's side with unconcealed longing. Very soon, it would be his.

The gremlin squealed a sound like a dying goose, but Morrison apparently understood. "Not yet, wait until he's ready." He turned to Charles. "Do you want any limits on space?"

"No limitations. I'm not going to have you saying it was unfair. The little rat can do whatever it wants."

Morrison stepped back. "Anything? That's a dangerous offer."

"Anything," Charles repeated confidently.

"Then you don't get to complain about this being unfair. It's been witnessed by everyone here." Morrison seemed to be laughing at him, quiet mockery in his every word.

That only made Charles more determined to win. "Anything," he growled. "And I don't need time to prepare."

"Anyone care to give them a countdown?"

"I will," Bella offered. "Three, two, one, begin."