Dungeons Are Bad Business

With Reginald on his head and Alforde behind him, Vee walked into Baudomin's Forge and looked around for the [Smith]. He didn't see anyone at first on account of how cramped the forge was, but eventually he spotted some movement toward the back.

"Be with you in just a moment," the man said, huffing as he twisted a piece of glowing metal with a pair of tongs. "Just have…to finish…this bit…right here first."

"That's fine," Vee answered, watching the man work with more interest than he would have had only a few months prior. Ectoplasm and metal were certainly different, but there were bound to be similarities between [Smith] work that he could apply to his projects. Even something as small as the right way to sit at a bench and work might prove useful.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the [Smith] set down his tools and came over. He was a hefty fellow, with a wild gray beard that resembled a shrub and tired brown eyes. The top of his head was bare, and sweat glistened on his dark skin.

"M'name is Maclen. [Blacksmith], level twenty-eight. How can I help you?"

Vee introduced himself and his companions, then launched right into his sales pitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm the [Dungeon Master] of Crestheart over in Westown, and I'm here with an excellent opportunity. You see, we're working to expand the business offerings near the dungeon, and have recently renovated several spaces that we're hoping to find tenants for. We believe a [Smith] like yourself would do especially well there, given the demographics of our typical clients. Our rents are fair, and we're flexible on several important things. When would you like to come by and pick out your space?"

At the end of his spiel Vee smiled. He didn't particularly like that last sentence, but Reginald had insisted that they include it. It was a "Presumptive Close" and the hat claimed that it would help them find a tenant faster.

Unfortunately, Maclen – like the other two [Smiths] they'd visited already that morning – shook his head. "'M afraid I'm not interested. I've only got another few years of good work left in me, and I don't have the energy to up and move shop. B'sides, did I hear you right? You're trying to get things set up in Westown?"

Vee nodded.

"Well, best of luck t'ya. I'll be heading back to my anvil now, unless you need any work done?"

Shaking his head, Vee thanked the [Blacksmith] for his time and went to leave the forge. Three rejections in a row wasn't yet enough for him to start worrying, but finding tenants definitely wasn't proving to be as easy as he'd expected it to be.

Outside, Vee took out the list of forges and smitheries that he'd made that morning and crossed out Baudomin's. There were still a half dozen names left, but the [Dungeon Master] had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that nobody was going to bite. He couldn't explain why either, and when he mentioned it to Reginald and Alforde they said he was crazy.

"If you're really worried about it, let's go ahead and tweak the pitch some more," Reginald said as they resumed walking down the street. "I think I've got some ideas that will improve our chances."

Vee listened to his [Majordomo] for the next few minutes, though most of the hat's suggestions were simply an increasingly aggressive list of high-pressure tactics that Vee didn't like.

"Make sure you say their name at least every other sentence," Reginald said. "That way you build rapport and as every good [Salesman] will tell you…rapport leads to sales!"

"I think that sounds annoying," Vee said. "Like sure, maybe a few judicious name drops might have a benefit but every other sentence is simply too much."

"That's what yout think. I'm telling you, boss. That's the ticket."

As it turned out, Reginald was right. Sort of.

At the next forge, Vee tried using the [Smith]'s name every other sentence, and the tactic proved to be the ticket to getting thrown out onto the street with nothing to show for it but a string of curses and a warning to never return.

Vee couldn't help but be a bit surly as they resumed their trek. "I'm never doing that again."

Reginald tightened his brim and let out a little laugh. "Sorry boss. I…kind of forgot that you need a pretty high amount of Charisma for that type of approach to work."

Vee growled, but Alforde chuckled and the tension dissipated a moment later.

"I think a better strategy is to try and focus on what we can offer to people instead. You know, tell them what kind of value we can provide if they come into Westown and stuff. With that said, what's the next place?"

Vee consulted his list once again. "It looks like…Dallery's over near Chestnut Street."

"Oh, that's actually pretty close to where we are," Alforde said. "See? Chestnut Street is right over there."

It was indeed, according to the sign, and the trio walked down the winding street until the found the brightly lit forge. It was, strangely, near a junkyard – or maybe just a giant trash heap, if all the bits of broken and rusted metal were any indication – and unlike the other places they'd visited that morning it was completely silent.

And cold. Vee shivered, rubbing his hands on his arms and chest to ward away the chill.

Vee grabbed the handle and pushed, and the door proved sticky enough that he had to ask Alforde to pop it open. The armorsoul complied, and the trio walked inside.

"Uh, hello? Is anybody here?" Vee asked, cupping his hands to his mouth.

Nobody emerged to greet them, and Vee looked around.

"What do you think?" he asked his friends. "Should we just leave and come back later?"

Before Reginald or Alforde could answer, another chilly breeze blew through the forge and a mousy kitrekin appeared from one of the hallways nearby.

His fur was golden. One of his eyes was blue, and the other was the most vibrant green Vee had ever seen. His ears were stubby, and his tail swished back and forth like it had a life of its own. Not a speck of soot marred his clothes or his leather apron, and he carried some of the shiniest tools Vee had ever seen on his belt.

"Hello there," the kitrekin said in a thin, squeaky voice. "I'm Rummy Goldpoint. How can I help you?"

Vee introduced himself, and launched into his pitch. The kitrekin listened patiently all the way to the end, but then shook his head.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Westown? No thank you, there are way too many nasty spirits there and I've got enough problems as it is in that department," he said.

Vee cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone knows that there's all sorts of nasty ghosts out in Westown and I've heard that if you're past the gate after dark you'll –"

"Not that," Vee said quickly, his temper bubbling up a little bit. "I was talking about you specifically."

The kitrekin stopped and looked a bit embarrassed. "Well, it's probably easier if I just show you. Here, take a look for yourself."

Rummy opened his mouth, and before Vee could so much as say 'Eww' a twin headed green and blue blob-shaped monster crawled up and appeared in the back of his throat.

Vee leaned forward and took a closer look. Interestingly, though it was perfectly visible in the mundane, it also shifted and shimmered in the ethereal. Activating [Third Sight], the [Ghost Smith] took a closer look and saw that it was actually a ghost. Specifically, it was a Hanger-on. Hanger-ons were nasty little creatures. Technically speaking they were Malignances – harmful ghosts that bothered people – hanger-ons were especially annoying. They were shapeshifting, parasitic ghosts that tended to set up on a single person and stay there for years, eventually taking the form of whatever bothered their host the most. Worse, unlike other malignant ghosts, it was generally considered a bad idea to try and use [Banish] on them. People who were foolish enough to try ended up suffering from a bevy of undesirable status effects.

"What is it?" Reginald asked. "I don't think I've ever seen anything that looks like that before."

Vee squinted. There was something about the shape that was vaguely familiar…

"Is that…a hairball?" he asked.

Rummy broke out into a laugh and the spirit vanished. "You've got a good eye, sir. Indeed. This little thing has been making my life miserable for well over a decade now. I've gone to [Exorcists], [Spirit Mediums], [Purifiers], and anyone else I could think of to try and get rid of it but nobody's been able to. Such is life sometimes, you know?"

Vee thought for a moment. Originally, he'd been thinking that he could offer to remove the Hanger-on in exchange for Rummy coming out to Westown, but if so many other people had failed to get rid of it he wasn't really sure what else he could do since he most certainly wasn't willing to suffer a litany of status effects for a veritable stranger.

Maybe he could offer some sort of pathway to removal instead? He supposed it was worth a try.

"I understand why you might be wary about working in a place with lots of spirits given your situation," he said delicately, "but Westown is every bit as safe as here. Moreso, since there's a lot fewer threats that aren't spirits if you know what I mean."

He looked pointedly at the little stained glass image in the window until he was sure that Rummy got his point and continued, "Additionally, while I can't make any promises, I deal with ghosts and spirits quite often myself as a [Ghost Smith] and might be able to find a way to get rid of your hairball."

Rummy's eyes brightened. "Really? You mean it?"

Vee nodded. "If you come to Westown, I'll get on it right away."

"And you'll keep me safe from other spirits? I hear there are terrifying fiends in Westown and that they eat people!"

Vee had never heard such a thing – and dimly wondered where such a nonsensical rumor might have come from – but that was of secondary interest to getting someone to commit to the Westown Strip.

"You have my word," he said, reaching out with his hand and shaking Rummy's paw.

"Then we have a deal, Mister Vales."

[Bargaining +1!]

The Expectation – Coxin, he reminded himself – shifted on his shoulders, and Vee felt one of the dragon's scales grow warm. He didn't have the ability to go ahead and check them for himself just then, but he strongly suspected that if he went and looked he'd find Rummy's request written somewhere on the spirit's body.

"So what do I have to do next?" the kitrekin asked. "Are there any papers for me to sign, or agreements that we need to formalize? You can't expect me to uproot everything I've got here on nothing more than a verbal agreement and a handshake."

Vee's stomach sank. He…sort of had been expecting something like that. Ugh. Paperwork. Truly, it was the bane of all endeavors.

"We have some documents back at the dungeon," Reginald interjected, lying as smoothly as freshly spread butter. "Once you pick your spot we'll get everything drawn up properly and taken care of."

Rummy nodded. "That sounds reasonable enough. Is it okay if I come by in a few days? I've got some work here that I should probably finish up first."

Vee agreed, and they shook hands again before the trio left.

A combination of excitement and relief surged through the [Dungeon Master] as they headed off to get a celebratory treat. It had been harder than he'd expected, but he'd managed to get another tenant for the Westown Strip.

Now he just had to go and get some more.

Main Character Sheets:

Vee Vales:

Primary Class: Ghost Smith (Self), Level 10

Secondary Class: Dungeon Master (Oar's Crest), Level 25

Tertiary Class: Guy-Who-Takes-Things-WAY-Too-Far (Self), Level 8

Might: 18

Wit: 42

Faith: 25

Adventurousness: 7

Ambition: 16

Plotting: 22

Charisma: 18

Devious Mind: 30

Leadership: 21

Guts: 16

Intimidating Presence: 12

Citizenship: 25

Public Relations: 8

Determination: 7

Persuasiveness: 6

Bargaining: 7 (+1)

Patience: 4

Competitive Spirit: 1

Pragmatism: 1

<3<3 Infatuation <3<3

Alforde Armorsoul (Unchanged):

Primary Class: Hammer Specialist (Self), Level 6

Secondary Class: Right-hand man (Vee Vales), Level 20

Tertiary Class: Dungeon Champion (Oar's Crest), Level 18

Additional Class: Glaciernaut (Sacha Silverblade), Level 14

Might: 62

Wit: 17

Faith: 27

Adventurousness (Bound – Vee Vales): 9

Endurance: 36

Intimidating Presence: 16

Heart of a Champion: 15

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 10

Vigilance: 11

Vanity: 2

Single-Mindedness: 1

Reginald (Unchanged):

Primary Class: Core Spirit (Unknown), Level ???

#$&Q#$)(@#$#@#$%!@#$##%#%()@#$**@@##

Secondary Class: Loudmouth (Self), Level 43

Tertiary Class: Majordomo (Vee Vales), Level 21

Additional Class: Announcer (Vee Vales), Level 14

Additional Class: Hyperthymesiac (Self), Level 5

Additional Class: Curmudgeon (Vee Vales), Level 1

Might: 3

Wit: 38

Faith: 17

Ambition: 29

Greed: 24

Deceptiveness: 28

Manipulativeness: 42

$#&*!@!!: !!!

Loyalty: 49

Patience: 11

Irritability: 27

Remorsefulness: 17

Expository Prowess: 23

Pragmatism: #@$%@$

Hop@#!! @#$@!@#

@#$@%%^

#4^5#*&_!+++#(@$#

Citizenship (Bound – Vee Vales): 10