Monroe

Bob leaned back and watched his raptor packs work, taking an occasional sip from his canteen, but mostly enjoying the cool shelter of his pavilion.

It really had been a great purchase.

He remembered reading a quote in of the D&D books he'd skimmed through those first few weeks in college, 'Never do with a spell what can be done with an item, magical or otherwise.'

He had nine effect overtime UtahRaptors out, working as packs of three to take down Lavabears, clearing all three pools at once. He had to replace a raptor from each pack after the fights, but he had just enough time to get them out, if not enough time to buff them with resistance to fire. He instead hit them with Anima Blast throughout the fight for two mana a second in a barrage.

He'd gotten the rhythm down and was clearing all three pools as quickly as they respawned, or every ten seconds. As his packs finished this last batch of bears, Bob mentally commanded them to come back towards the pavilion. He was nearing his two-hour mark, and he'd just as soon that no one knew just exactly how he fought.

Bob stood and stretched, then started folding up his chair and table as his UtahRaptors disappeared, one by one.

He'd killed two thousand and eighty-seven bears, for a total of sixty-six mana crystals, but he hadn't found an Affinity Crystal.

He slipped his pavilion into his inventory just as a young man walked down the tube, trailed by an older man with flames where his eyes ought to have been.

Bob bowed his head and scurried past with a quiet, "Excuse me," and hurried up the spiral.

Given the elaborate designs on the young mans clothing, Bob was almost certain he was a noble, which made the tier six or seven man behind him either an older noble or a retainer of some sort, and quite frankly Bob didn't want anything to do with either.

Bob strode to the Gateway and wasted no time passing through it, before climbing up the stairs to the Under-Cathedral and approaching Annisa.

"I'm glad to see you've returned safely from your delve," Annisa said warmly, "it would seem you encountered no difficulties?"

"Aside from the lavabears being made of actual lava, no," Bob said, "no difficulties."

"In fact I had a fairly successful delve, gathering sixty-six mana crystals," Bob reached into his satchel and carefully picked up a number of crystals.

"Which is fourteen for the King's tax," Bob handed over fourteen mana crystals, "four for the church," Bob handed her another four crystals, causing her to lift her eyebrows in surprise, "and finally two crystals for you, a small token of appreciation for your dedication," Bob finished, handing another two crystals to her.

Annisa's smile widened, and she gave a little laugh, light and melodic, "I appreciate that, it's uncommon for people who aren't from the city to pick up on that custom so quickly," she said.

Bob shook his head and replied, "I've seen the priest of Vi'Radia heal people who came out of the Dungeon worse for wear," he smiled awkwardly and continued, "Austan is a credit to your faith, he doesn't ask for anything, and he isn't paid to watch over the entrance, but he's there, every day, making sure people are alright, and sending Adventurers after you if you've overstayed your scheduled delve."

"He sounds like a good man," Annisa agreed, "and I'm pleased that the customs of Harbordeep have found fertile ground outside of her walls."

Bob gave her a quick bow before saying "Thank you for watching out for us, I'll see you soon," and parting with a smile.

Bob hurried towards the Adventurers guild, his cloak whipping in the cold wind that rushed up from the harbor.

He hated that. The small talk, the niceties.

Anissa was probably a good person, and she seemed nice enough, but Bob wasn't here to make friends, he was here to farm up some Affinity Crystals.

He had friends back in Holmstead.

And he missed them. Harv, Elli, Bailli, Kelli, Austan, even Eddi and the J's, hell, even Thidwell.

Bob was feeling pretty full up on friends.

He sighed as he slid into the foyer of the Adventurers Guild and headed towards the servant's tavern.

He'd already drawn enough attention to himself by becoming a shepherd, from his experience in Holmstead not accepting the offer of a drink or shared meal with a group of your fellow Adventurers was considered to be odd behavior.

So he walked into the tavern and looked for Karri and the three brothers.

Spotting them, he walked over towards their table.

Seeing his approach, the brothers pulled another table beside theirs, giving him room to join them.

"And how was your delve?" Karri asked him.

Bob paused to consider his answer before replying, "Warm."

"I'd like you all to meet my friend Monroe," Bob said as he reached under the table and pulled his sleepy kitty from his inventory while giving the illusion that Monroe had been on the floor.

Larrs, maybe, gave a grunt of surprise and muttered, "Didn't see him with you," while Karri looked Monroe over appreciatively.

Lahft, maybe, let out a surprisingly loud bellow of "Kitty!" and stood up, adoration in his eyes as he approached Bob's feline overlord, shooting Bob a questioning look as Monroe hopped from his arms onto the table and fell bonelessly into a puddle.

"There he goes," presumably Larrs said, "Lahft loves cats."

"As should we all," Bob said approvingly as he sat down across from Lahft who had taken a seat and was exploring the wonders of Monroe's silky ruff.

"He's very handsome," Karri said, "and he looks awfully soft."

Bob gestured from Karri to Monroe as he said, "Have a pet, Monroe hasn't ever reached his hand to cat capacity."

Karri leaned over his shoulder, disturbingly close, and gave Monroe's ears a gentle pet.

"Oh my," she breathed, "he is soft."

Bob edged over a bit and leaned away.

He really wasn't comfortable with having people that close to him.

Karri retreated to her chair with a low chuckle and resumed eating her meal.

Larrs shook his head and took a swallow from his mug.

"Soloing down there is a bit slow isn't it?" he asked.

"I suppose," Bob said, "but I'm training to be able to give our curator some time off, so it's important for me to get used to it,"

Lubrick nodded sympathetically and said, "I considered taking the Curator path, but these two lumps," he gestured to his brothers, "would be lost without me."

"So your pushing for twenty-six then?" Karri asked.

Bob nodded and waved to a server who arrived with a mug of water, and a bowl containing the same, which he set in front of Monroe.

Bob passed over his token with a quiet "Thank you," and took a deep drink of water.

"I'd actually like to push to twenty-seven or even twenty-eight," Bob replied, "but I don't know that I'll have the time."

"We are planning to push to thirty, then join an expedition to found a new town," Karri said with a smile, "things here are played out and locked down, have been forever," she shook her head.

"I've heard a few stories about the expedition that founded Holmstead," Bob replied, "but that was a long time ago. What is involved with getting an expedition together?"

Karri's eyes lit up and Bob suppressed a sigh of relief. The key was finding something someone was enthusiastic about, and expressing an interest in it. He was confident she'd ramble on about the expedition for the rest of the conversation.

He was proven right as Karri, aided by Lubrick and Larrs, described in detail the preparations needed to for an expedition to be successful.

He was a little surprised that the answer wasn't just thousands of mana crystals.

Spatially expanded backpacks and crates were definitely key items, as an expedition packed its own food in, and was expected to have enough to last for a few months, as well has containing items they might not be able to obtain or recreate magically.

It was generally considered that you needed two adventuring parties of four people each, each group having a healer, as well as a curator, two being better, two divine casters with earth/water/plant, ideally separate from the healers, a dimensionalist with the portal spell, again, two being better, and then ten to twenty people level ten or higher who were interested in carving out a new place.

The larger the expedition, the more successful they tended to be, but according to Lubrick the makeup was the most important aspect.

Their up and coming expedition was well sorted, with both adventuring parties shooting for level thirty, a pair of level twenty-plus curators, a husband and wife druid team, both over level fifteen, and thirty people ranging from level eight to seventeen. The only weak point, Lubrick had lamented, was that they only had one dimensionalist.

After half an hour of animated, at least on their part, conversation, Bob made his excuses and headed to bed.

Nora woke up as the lights rapidly grew brighter.

She sat up and stretched slowly, wincing as some of her muscles protested the rough treatment they'd received yesterday.

Delving into the Dungeon yesterday had been an experience.

And Bob had been so much different down in the Dungeon. More at ease, more confident.

It made her wonder if he was truly afraid of the higher tier people in Harbordeep. The meek and quiet persona he adopted around them was surely an act.

She shook herself and stood up, heading for the shower.

Hopefully some hot water would relax her muscles, and even if it didn't she was due to be at the Dungeon in another hour, and she wanted breakfast before then.

Nora did her best not think about her mother and father settling down at the breakfast table, joined by her elder and younger brothers.

She'd see them soon enough, after tempers had cooled. After she'd shown everyone that she didn't need their path, that she was capable of taking care of herself.

Nora stepped under the hotwater and smiled as the hotwater flowed over her shoulders and arms, the heat bringing a relief to her sore muscles.

She knew she was going to need to choose a path, and that the skills she selected as she leveled were what would determine her options.

She regretted never having investigated the paths that others took. She knew a few of them, of course, everyone did. She wasn't interested in being a Laborer or an Armsmen, and she'd never really felt the calling to become a priestess, although she'd been told by her mother that not everyone who used Divine Magic was a priest.

She knew almost nothing about Arcane Magic aside from the grumbling that there were never enough dimensionalists around.

Nora supposed that if she became a dimensionalist, she'd certainly have a long and profitable career ahead of her.

She tried not to let her thoughts flow in that direction, but it was like trying to steer the ocean. She'd grown up expecting to be a part of her family's business, which was the management of Harbordeep's outer wall.

Nora was well aware of her family's history. A mere three thousand years ago, the outer walls had been thirty feet tall, and during a particularly brutal tide, they'd proved insufficient to stop the majority of monsters that had swept over the city.

The loss of life and property had been tremendous, and the King had exiled the family responsible for the walls before holding a public contest, offering up fifty foot sections of the wall to anyone who thought they could provide the city with better protection. The winner would be awarded a writ of lesser Nobility, elevating their family, and would shoulder the responsibility for ensuring that the outer walls provided adequate protection for the city.

Her however many times great grandmother had reconstructed her section of wall using some secret method that reinforced the stone beyond what any other contestant had to offer.

And so the King had lifted her family up from the common masses, and given them the duty and responsibility for the outer walls reconstruction and maintenance.

As she'd never heard the exact details of this secret method, she had to assume it was part of her family's path, and subject to the Geas.

Nora finished washing up and considered washing her hair for a moment before discarding the idea. It took forever to dry, and she didn't have her brushes with her.

She grimaced as she toweled off. She didn't have any of her things with her, and was currently relying on the Inn's laundry service to keep her single set of clothing clean. Things like changes of clothes and laundry simply hadn't been something she'd ever had to concern herself with.

Oh, she went shopping with her mother on occasion, picking out new clothing as she grew into herself, but she'd never before had to think about clothing beyond what she wanted to wear on any given day.

She opened the chest beside the door, and retrieved her freshly laundered underwear and her armor.

She carefully dressed, only making a single mistake when buckling her pauldrons in place.

Grabbing her satchel and tossing on her cloak, she headed downstairs for a bite to eat.

Bob was awoken from his nap not by his alarm, as he'd planned, but rather by a plaintative mereow that clearly expressed to anyone that heard it, that a kitty was in distress.

Given that Monroe was kneading the pillow upon which Bob was resting his head, the volume was significant, and the target of the big cats sorrow was quite clear.

"Buddy," Bob mumbled as he sat up, rubbing his eyes, "what's made a kitty so sad?"

Monroe didn't answer. In nearly seven years, he never had, so Bob had gotten used to interpreting his best friends meows.

Things were a little different now though. Bob concentrated on the bundle of emotions in the back of his mind that represented his connection to Monroe.

Hungry-Thirsty-Light.

"Oh, does the most handsome kitty in the world want some fish for breakfast?" Bob asked Monroe as he staggered to his feet, and then nearly fell to the ground as Monroe ran his shoulder and flank along Bob's leg.

"Okay Buddy, we'll get breakfast," Bob promised, "just let me take a shower and get dressed."

Bob took another step towards the shower and his foot landed on something cold and squishy, causing him to jerk his foot back up.

Bob closed his eyes and cocked his head, taking a few deep breaths.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the floor.

The remains of what appeared to be a mouse were oozing onto the floor.

He looked over at Monroe, who had curled up in the sink, nevermind that he didn't fit, looking awfully pleased with himself.

Bob sighed and reached down and picked the dead mouse up by the tail before dropping it in the toilet.

He turned to rub Monroe's ruff and said, "You're a mighty hunter, yes you are."

Bob turned on the shower and took a moment to wonder where the mouse had come from? Didn't the spatial expansion effectly remove the room from this dimension and place it in another?

He looked over at Monroe, but no answers were forthcoming.

With a shrug, Bob stepped into the shower and started scrubbing. He'd figure it out sooner or later, but first he needed a shower and some breakfast. He was due to take the kids back down in less than an hour.