Into The Dungeon

I pointedly didn’t stiffen at his words, only humming in seemingly disinterested consideration. While he was offering something that sounded perfect, I was more than canny enough to notice he had said nothing about safety; a place to gain experience while testing and leveling skills sounds far too much like a battlefield for my liking. The only way you can get experience, to my knowledge anyway, is from killing; thus, if fits that whatever he was offering was far from a safe environment to get a grasp on my new abilities.

I could hear the grin on his face widening, “Oooh, not interested are we?” I ignored him tapping on his chin in an exaggerated thinking pose, deciding to practice congealing the force of my punches with Focused Impact. “Well, it sure is fortunate for your lack of adventurous spirit that I don’t particularly care for your opinion, then! Markus and I think some “opportunists” might take a shot at the dungeon in our territory after news of last night’s casualties gets out; and it will get out, make no mistake, this sector may be a steaming pile of awful, but it has many eyes and many ears.” I could have guessed as much, opsec was always going to be hard when just surviving without a gang behind you in this pit requires notable stealth; I can only imagine the average urchin in this pit is either a cold corpse or a damn shadow by the time they hit adulthood, just from the necessities of living here.

The old beast waved a hand, as if trying to ward off a bad smell at the mere mention of gossip, though his grin remained fixed in place. I was too busy tearing apart the word “dungeon” in this context to care for the man-beast’s smiling, the potential implications of either of the possible meanings whirling and writhing through my mind like snakes in a train wreck. If he meant something as simple as a place where one stored prisoners, then he could very well be intending for me to test out my skills by using them to torture and execute prisoners; something I would be more than happy to do, as free experience like that is not something I would ever pass up (without due concerns, anyway). However, if he meant the fantasy concept of a predatory hole in the ground that created, summoned, or enslaved creatures to protect itself, that could very well be much much better, or much much worse; on the one hand, it meant a potentially infinite source of exp (and possibly loot), on the other hand it meant a potentially infinite font of danger and suffering.

Not to mention the potential societal implications of such a thing. In a world like this, where blood and death translate directly into power, a pit that produces theoretically infinite violence would be the greatest treasure one could hope for. I could easily envision whole nations going to war for a juicy enough dungeon, let alone mere street gangs and cartels.

If the latter assumption was correct and the old vampire meant a pit of never ending danger, our possession of such suggested they're either common enough to be possessed by smaller factions within a nation rather than only government organizations (and this particular dungeon wasn’t deemed valuable enough for a higher polity to seize), or the Burnpikes are bigger regional players than I thought. I'd speculate the gang somehow kept it quiet, but Rokharth speaking of opportunistic attacks suggests the dungeon is an open secret at best and public knowledge at worst.

Rokharth’s harsh laughter put an end to my musing, “I can almost taste all those curious little thoughts swirling around in your head, but I’d recommend you keep your questions all bottled up until we actually reach the dungeon; I’m sure most of them will be answered when we arrive, after all.” He was right, of course, most of my questions were the kind that would be alleviated as soon as I actually laid eyes on the place; logically, the correct course was to simply shut up and go solve these mysteries the practical way.

Unfortunately, that simply isn’t how my mind works; just because a clear and obvious solution is present, doesn’t mean I’m not going to spend hours mentally dissecting it anyway! Especially when said ‘solution’ involved a great deal of languishing in anticipation; I knew every damn step of the journey to this so-called dungeon was going to be filled with swirling questions I can’t answer.

Rokharth chuckled lowly, as if he could so easily tell I wouldn't be following his advice, “Well, you go ahead and stew then; just make sure to meet me in the foyer in an hour, bring whatever you think you need for a day trip.” I could hear his sharp teeth clicking against each other as his smile grew to escape the bounds of his face for a split second before his flesh faded away into the darkness once more, leaving his glittering eyes and far too wide smile hovering in the air for just a moment before they too faded into the gloom. Just as his too-white teeth faded, one last ominous sentence echoed out from him, “Be there on time, or I'll come looking for you.”

I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder at his parting, running a hand through my fur (killing my scent out of habit) as I tried to bottle up the howling fear that slithered up my spine at the paranoia inducing thought that I could never be quite sure he was really gone. As a man who always appreciated his privacy, the repeated blows to my ability to feel secure and alone weighed on my mind like a millstone.

Of course, I was a modern man once upon another life, and as such I was well used to heinous violations of my privacy and was more than familiar with a general feeling of imminent potential danger. Invisible spies and assassins will never not be a terrifying reality to have to accept, but the difference between an invisible vampire watching me and a hidden camera watching me was really only a couple orders of magnitude.

Despite the skin crawling feeling of being unable to verify Rokharth wasn’t invisibly looming over me, I was already well aware of such threats by now; it may be horrendously unsettling, but the human mind’s ability to adapt to crushing existential horrors was more than adequate to slowly transition the feeling into the normal background dread of existence. There are, for sure, enemies capable of hiding themselves from my ability to perceive; this is a fact of life I’m going to have to plan for and seek means of mitigating, but not something I can do anything about right now.

I’m sure the heightened stress of existing in this fantastical hell hole was slowly killing me, but so long as that “slowly” remained at less than imminently lethal levels I’d focus on actionable threats instead; for now I’ll just have to shove aside my trembling nerves and ignore the building chemicals running roughshod over my veins. I’ll just have to hope my pursuit of immortality bears fruit before an aneurysm blooms behind my eyes.

I let loose a deep sigh, using Deep Breath to flush more oxygen through my system. A small smile spread across my face when the skill leveled in response, and I very nearly let myself fall into relaxation; unfortunately, I had to shake off my amused lethargy sooner than later. I wasn't about to test Rokharth's ever so merciful patience, even if I was very reluctant to go dungeon diving.

I suppose the old bastard is using good old soviet convincing; you may fear the unknown before you, but the very certain horrors behind you weigh heavier on the mind.

I didn't have any equipment to gather, so I simply left the room and headed back to my personal quarters. I didn't faff about this time, sparing only a glance for the sights on my way back “home” and thus making better time. I quickly grabbed what little gear I wasn't already wearing, changed my rags out for new ones, and gave my knife a quick once over to be sure it was in functional condition (not that I had the time or knowledge to actually fix any issues if I had found them; yet another thing I'll need to look into, being able to perform basic maintenance is a vital skill).

I spared a brief glance around the nearly barren roam, taking in my near total lack of possessions for a brief moment before shaking my head with a dismissive snort. I was never one for asceticism, but neither did I particularly care to surround myself with ostentatious displays of wasted wealth; even so, seeing how little I owned in this new life struck a jagged chord deep within me. I had more power at my fingertips than I ever had in my last life, and yet I'm still no one here; just a bottom of the barrel gang enforcer, if even that.

I scowled slightly, resolving, as ever, to discard such silly notions as fame and fortune; no amount of adoration or riches would mean anything when the reaper's cold hand comes to take you away. Survival first, power second, entertainment third; a simple list of priorities to guide my actions into the indefinite future.

I shook myself lightly, pushing distracting thoughts of cold golden tombs to the back of my thoughts where it belongs. With only a few second glances to be sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, I strode out of the room with my still blood and mud stained cloak trailing behind me; if I had the time, I’d try to seek out a place to launder said cloak, but with scant minutes to go I just put it from my mind. Appearances matter, but punctuality and effectivity matters more; or, at least I hope they do.

It didn’t take me long to reach the so called foyer, finding Rokharth and twelve goons in cloaks similar to my own loitering about near the exit. The old vampire noticed me instantly (in fact, given the way he was already looking in my direction and smirking before I even rounded the corner, I'm decently sure he was aware of my approach for awhile), though it took the malingering thugs a few seconds to notice my approach.

Given the looks some of the slower amongst them received, I expected remedial training was in their future; well, at least that'll give Rokharth something to amuse himself with.

The smirking vampire clapped his gloved hands, “Ah, and the final member arrives on time, if barely; now we can get this “precautionary venture” started.” He spread his arms wide, smirk transforming into a full blown grin, “Now then, ladies and gentlemen,” from a brief glance I couldn't find any so called “ladies” amongst this group, but I doubt the old monster cared, “after last night's festivities, Markus and the shrikeling think some up jumped assholes might take a shot at stealing our dungeon; we are going to make sure that doesn't happen.”

The walking sin began to pace theatrically in front of us, “Seven of you chuckle fucks are gonna guard the entrance, while six cheery chaps are gonna patrol the inside on the off chance anyone gets past them. You can decide amongst yourselves which of you gets which role…” I barely glanced at the excess goons around me, already sensing Rokharth had something planned from the way he trailed off; I was immediately proven correct when he clasped his hands together and pointed at me with both index fingers, “except the rat, he’s on the inside team because I said so.”

A few of the cloaked thugs sent me considering looks, but no matter their thoughts not a single one was willing to openly argue with Rokharth. Whatever their opinions were, they kept them to themselves as the old monster watched with an amused grin. The vampire's toothy smile widened ever so slightly, “Well? What are you dipshits waiting for? Hop to it!”

The nameless killers around me glanced at one another before shrugging and heading out the door. I spared Rokharth’s grinning face a glance, found his eyes locked with mine and glittering maliciously, and decided to quickly hurry after them.