A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

That damnable old man was going to get an earful after this. If Orion had a copper, a term he found most fitting for the least valuable rupee, for every time that merchant sent him on a, seemingly, wild goose chase, only for it to turn out far more interesting than it had any right to, well, he'd be able to afford at least a couple more beers. The cheap stuff was damn near unpalatable, after all. But really, where that old hermit got his information was anyone's guess. Orion had once paid people to tail the man and see if he ever left Spokane, and if he did, where the hell he went in his wanderings, but, lo and behold, the absolute head-scratcher of a man never even left his shop. He had runners come and drop off anything he wanted: RUNNERS! By the gods, how that man could even afford the expense, when no one ever seemed to buy anything from his shop, was beyond him. That was all besides the point, though.

Orion had been doing this for a long time. Not the longest, by far, oh no, people had been at this game long before he ever stepped foot in the Tower, even if time seemed to be a bit more subjective here, but a long time, nonetheless. His scars were less telling of his experience than his patched-up, mottled, brown cloak. If that thing could speak, the stories it would tell. Even with his wealth of experience, it had been a while since he'd seen such a flabbergasting demonstration. Not only had this complete chortler ignored the heavy-handed hints Pashikh, a known newbie groomer, had undoubtedly given, as he always did, reinforcing the importance of sticking near the Plains while she got used to the differences of this pocket world, and it was different, mind you.

Now, it's important to remember that for most people, the Tower is a culmination of a lifetime spent honing one's edge. To say nothing of the edge people honed once inside the Tower, even the dullest blades were damned dangerous on their entry. This, naturally, translated into a relative increase in the challenge level within said Tower. Where, you know, the best-of-the-best came to duke it out for fame and glory and a cool new hat.

It had been Orion's experience that, no matter how fascinating and wonderful one's newest capuisition, as he called it among good company, there was always a newer, cooler hat. People couldn't just be happy with the hat on their head or the laurels in their waistline, no, there was always a taller mountain to climb, bigger bosoms to rest upon, and a hat that just said better, "Can't you see how much better I am than you, who are unworthy of even gazing upon the magnitude of my hat." But, alas, the woes of life's true tragedies.

Anywho, not only did this prize-in-the-porridge-bowl ignore the ever-so-subtle clues to work your way up the ladder, jumping several steps at once, but they also proceeded to waltz through the Forest without a care in the world. The Forest did seem relatively safe, at first glance, but, oh, that is the problem with relativity. One second, something seems safe, and the next, you've learned that safety is for the living. Well, most never learned that, really, because they die. And yet, here strode this teenage wonder, clearly conflating the comfortable conditions, something the Forest was well known for, with a lack of danger. It was, in a dangerous world, a relatively idyllic vacation spot when one simply needed a break from it all, but again, that was relative. The real veterans preferred the sights where the Blasted Expanse met the Brined Depths. The beauty, not to mention the danger, was unparalleled. Yeah, the locals were a touch on the "where did my rocker even wind up?" side, but no one vacationed without full battle gear here. Still, even they had more sense than this gem. HA!

Oh, how nice it must be to look at the sights, smell the carnivorous roses. And just to top it off, this woman walked directly into a trap, seemed to acknowledge it was a trap, and chose to spring it. Alone. IN THE WOODS.

"Now, children," Orion couldn't help commenting under his breath at the time, "I don't know if you've ever taken a wilderness survival course, but this wouldn't be covered too often anyway, so don't feel bad. This is, as they say in the business, a rookie move with all the makings of a bad, bad day."

Then, to top it off, this absolute peach manages to find a Rare spawn, as the adventurers had taken to calling the more dangerous wandering monsters, of all things. Now, most people might choose fighting withdrawal when outnumbered at least four-to-one, especially factoring in a Rare; Most people had that much sense. This kid moved well and seemed to have pretty decent senses to top it off, but gods if she wouldn't find the pointy end of a blade if she were dropped off at the wrong end of a dark alley, for all the survival instinct she showed.

Alright, Orion was a little impressed at the way she handled the archer, even mostly dodging an enhanced sniper shot, but her senses weren't that good. She still hadn't caught on to the fact that he'd been watching her since before her encounter with Pashikh. New worlds could be overwhelming and all, he was sure, and he was no slouch when it came to hiding, truthfully one of the few skills at which he excelled, but, gods, he couldn't help but be frustrated by her lack of care.

Seeing she transitioned into her attempt at stealth, something he would see through while passed out drunk in a dark cellar, he cheered. "Yes! I was beginning to think you didn't have even a passing thought for self-preservation." He'd been preparing to help the pup out in earnest, having already taken out the already uncommon gob-loud, as he called that variety, in the trees with a well-timed shot as he watched her knife fly well to the right of the creature, when the Rare beast caught sight of her. She might have managed to hide from most creatures here, but the Rare was a step above most. Orion was only pretty sure it wouldn't spot him, even if it weren't so distracted to begin with. Clearly, it had been holding on to a cast because, no sooner had it seen her than it let loose an overcharged fire lance.

Confoundingly, she managed to dodge that, too. Worse than that, not only did she dodge the spell, but she managed to turn that near death experience, which he was sure she didn't fully appreciate for what it was, into an advantage, using the falling tree to eliminate yet another threat. Orion wasn't one to waste an opportunity and, under the cover of the cacophony this kid was causing, retrieved his arrow, disguising the entry wound with a rough knife-wound he hoped would be enough to explain away the absence of her knife.

Orion knew from experience that, after all that noise, this battle was on a timer. More beasts were doubtless on their way, as much to loot the fallen as finish off the intruder. The kid had wandered deep enough into their territory that it was only a matter of time. If he didn't act soon, he'd have to knock the girl out to get her away. Otherwise, he was sure he'd fail the old man's quest notice.

That wasn't an outcome Orion could condone as he'd recently spent his last pocket change at the Marmot, something he'd been warned against doing countless times. Damned if it wasn't worth it every time, though. Well, until the next morning anyway. He never was sure if the headache was worse, or the disappointment at finding his day's pay had evaporated, once again, took home the turkey.

The next few moments were the most baffling of any. After allowing the creature time to overcharge yet another attack, the kid didn't even attempt to dodge. No, she was gearing up to take the attack head-on and try to knock it back like a game of stick ball. Now, most people wouldn't need to be told that this was a bad idea, but Orion was quickly discovering that this person hardly qualified as "most." Despite using the most inadvisable tactics known to man, displaying a complete lack of critical thinking skills, the walking conundrum of a newbie managed to one-shot the thing with a form of magic he'd never even seen before.

Some people had all the luck.

If Orion had learned one thing in his time walking the earth, it was to pay attention. Most often, this led to, occasionally exceptional, meals. Sometimes it led to unexpected adventures, but occasionally it led to the most wonderful confluences of all. Not one to look a giving pony in the kisser, he thanked his own lucky pittance for having brought him here today.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Orion had a saying. Well, he had many, but this one went something like this. "When you walk into a confluence of stupidity, you best strap yourself in for the ride of your life. There's nothing like a capable idiot to really turn things upside down."

Stooping to pick up the poorly aimed throwing-knife, Orion claimed that trifle: a trinket to commemorate the occasion, as all auspicious moments should have. A shift in the winds of fortune was something to celebrate. Things weren't looking so bleak, if he did say so himself.

He stuck around to watch the kid's back while she did some good old-fashioned looting. Prepared as he was to take care of some of the reinforcements, he couldn't help but shake his head, seeing them turn tail and flee the moment the Rare went down. The kid just sat there looting, none the wiser to the horde that nearly descended upon her.

Some people really did have all the luck. He only hoped some rubbed off.

The Drowned Marmot was a pleasant enough dive, if you took it in stride. It was the perfect hole-in-the-wall for a nondescript free-agent like Orion. Perfectly seedy, it had the essentials: palatable food (if you knew what to avoid), a discreet staff (if you didn't strut around like an easy mark), and the best ale this side of the Tundra. The first two were negotiable, in Orion's humble opinion, but that last list item was essential. Gods knew he'd spent enough time in this warped place that he needed a good bender or two every once in a while to keep his mind right. He really couldn't afford anything more frequent; he would be disappointed to admit, not that he'd ever actually tell anyone that.

Nothing like a good bit of inanity to keep you straight. Works out the kinks, oils the gears. That's how he saw it.

Orion had been a regular, well, a regular here, anyway, since just a couple of weeks after it opened, and he was not sad to leave his old haunt. It was getting a bit too loud there, as is like to happen when a place starts getting too swanky and uppity. Nothing like a proper coat of grime to keep out the troublemakers. Anyone willing to rough it a bit sure wasn't looking for no trouble they didn't bring with 'em. That's why he liked the Marmot.

Well, that and he had an in with the owner, proprietor, and chef. Decent bloke that one, knew how to bring in the right crowd. Some said the joint was downright criminal, but they just couldn't appreciate the cost of exclusivity. Nah, it was always the more upstanding folk that caused issues around here.

Shouldn't walk around with your valuables in clear sight if you don't want to invite any enterprising strangers. It's just downright rude to flaunt your goods near such entrepreneurial individuals. Anyone who's ever run their own show knows you've gotta have a certain willingness to seize your moment, or so he'd always seen it.

Orion was out of that game now, thankfully. No, now he took pride in providing a safe harbor for those in need, and there were always people in need around here. Outside of your own home, there were few truly safe places. You weren't likely to be mugged on the street or killed in cold blood, but only an amateur thought those were the truly awful things in life. Experience had taught him otherwise. That's why he was always careful in his choice of companions.

Too many souls wandered out into the wilderness with one hanger-on or another, only to suddenly have their possessions up for barter, whereabouts unknown. Orion didn't have any respect for that kind of behavior. People came here seeking adventure: seeking riches, power. There were dangers enough out there without decent folk turning on each other for trinkets. Not when the real treasures still lay unclaimed, shortsighted fools. Some people just didn't know how to read the winds of fortune, something Orion found himself ever more thankful he'd learned early.

He was here to play the long game; no need to rush things along. A nudge here, a careful suggestion there, and a curated list of the local bad elements went a long way towards forging a proper haven for like-minded individuals. While he didn't care for wanton violence, a little pruning went a long way when it came to keeping the town healthy. One bad apple and all that.

He was done with that work for now, though, having found a new hopeful ally. It was always the willfully stupid ones who found the most exciting adventures, if they survived long enough. Something about their unshakable self-confidence, they just couldn't see the cliff they walked until it was too late. Honestly, he admired them for it, but he saw too much to follow too closely. Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and he hadn't been blissful in an age.

That's what led him back to the Marmot, time and again. A little oblivion in a familiar locale was often just what the doctor ordered.

"What'll it be," came a voice from beneath the counter.

"Don't know why you even bother to ask," Orion chuckled, "just make sure it's strong and keep 'em coming. I got a job coming up and I'ma need a clear head for it."

A flagon, roughly engraved with an "O", plopped onto the countertop, courtesy of a small, furred hand. "Aye, the usual then!" The flagon bubbled up until foam crested the top.

"Just throw it on the tab," Orion replied before taking a deep draft.

"Y'know, one of these days I'm gonna have to make you square up, start fresh. Good and proper." The bartender's voice held no malice or displeasure, only a sad resignation at a payday delayed.

But Orion always paid up eventually. It just took the right job, and gods, did he have a good feeling about this one. "You betcha, buddy! The winds are changin'. Good things are comin', just you wait. Just you wait." He took a long draw on his mug, as if to emphasize his point.

"Well, get to it, then," laughed the bartender. "Best clear your head sooner rather than later. Gods know your luck's shite when you don't set yourself right."

"Oh," Orion sighed with exaggeration, "you just know me so well. At least make sure I get to my room this time, alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'll handle that personally," laughed the bartender while an undersized mitt slapped the bar top. "One of the boys will be along, this time, I'm sure. Should I set aside two kegs, or three?"

"Two should do just fine," Orion called back, already walking to his favorite, darkened corner. "I've got work to do, you know!"

Orion awoke to the unpleasant feel of wood grain on his cheek, and he could tell that the landing hadn't been stellar. The rough finish of the floor told him he hadn't made it to his room. Again. Unfortunate.

It wasn't his worst bout with a sudden burst of consciousness, but he did prefer coming to his senses in his room. Slumped over the table, hung over the couch, or in his bed, he'd experienced each variation often enough that he didn't have a great preference.

Pushing himself up off the floor, he took a quick glance around, he determined that, oh! He actually had made it back to his room. It would have been a greater relief, but something had torn up the floor pretty phenomenally. He pulled a few splinters out of his cheek. That would surely be some story, with a bill on top, no doubt, but that was a problem for later. For now, since he was already in his room, he dragged his bedraggled keister into his bed for a little more shut-eye. Orion pulled his travel-worn blanket, the only thing on his bed, over himself. A few more splinters prodded other areas uncomfortably, but he ignored them for now.

His head throbbed something fierce, and he only wished someone had left him some water…oh good! A large tankard of water, which he promptly drained, sat waiting on his bedside table. Gods, he appreciated that marmot. A few more winks would do him good and wouldn't delay his plans too much. The day would still be there when he was a touch more ready for it.

The old man would be there when he got up, and, gods, did he have a lot to tell him. Even if that insufferable merchant always seemed to know everything that happened in this place, he was good about feigning ignorance. Orion couldn't ask for a better audience and, boy, did he have a story to tell today.