She was just as shocked as the rest when the door opened and the completely unexpected came in. A person from one of the outlying hamlets bringing in a Quest? Sure. A small patrol of the Suncrest guard stopping by to pin a notice of a monster sighting? Those happened semi-frequently and kept the Irontrail in business. The same went for the mine foreman or someone from the Highpeak Mining Company when a monster needed clearing from a newly-discovered section of mountain tunnels.
But a half-dragon dressed in a white pair of pants and shirt, with no gear, and carrying an expensive Trader’s Pouch? How could someone expect a Species that was only talked about in rumors, stories, and legend to walk into their workplace and naively ask if he could join up to make money?
Leona’s first thought was, don’t all dragon-kin just hoard treasure, steal, and take to build their wealth? And so she asked about that. It was the first question out of her lips. “So, are you here to rob the place? Going to take all the treasure?”
She didn’t expect him to laugh, or to reply honestly. She was a professional at reading people. Read the Room, her personal Trait, allowed her to instinctively assess a person’s intent and the danger they posed to her—once she spotted them and observed them for a short time. It had saved her life on many occasions.
This guy was actually being authentic. He wanted to work for coin.
So, she got up and asked him, “Well then, what are you good at? I don’t see any gear with you?”
Kryos talked about saving the miners the night before.
Leona knew that event intimately, as news had spread across Suncrest and the hamlets like wildfire. A section of the mine had collapsed when a new branch was being dug to pursue a vein found along an older shaft. Some miners were trapped, and it woke up a bunch of Tremorleeches. The miners recounted a shadowy, scale-covered beast of a man who tore the creatures apart with his bare hands and saved their lives.
Taking Kryos in now, Leona knew that the half-dragon was telling the truth. Her Trait told her as much, and the more she stood in front of him, listening to him talk, she realized he was brought up sheltered. The way his gaze flicked from person to person, the little nervous twitch at the corner of his smile, and the dryness of his lips was all she needed to see to tell her that he was extremely out of his element talking to people. He was trying his best to act like he was a people person . . . but he had been taught how to be around people.
There was no authentic experience there. He was a fish out of water.
She activated her HUD and saw above his head Mass Dragon (I). Not a Class she’d ever heard of before. She said, “I could see that . . . one piece of advice, foundling, don’t take a Quest until someone explains how it works.” She turned and headed to the stairs, going up to her room.
This could be dangerous, Leona thought as she closed her bedroom door and sat on the bed. She wracked her memory for everything she could recall about half-dragons and the stories she had been told in the orphanage her once-rich parents left her at when their business empire was stolen out from under them.
They came in two types, she knew that much. The type this Kryos was—big and bulky with obvious features, and then another type where the only indicator was their eyes, and they tended to be more slim and Essence focused. Both shared traits of their dragon parentage: they hoarded wealth. They kept it to themselves, and sat on it. And . . . they were long-lived. Just as long as elves could live into their five-hundreds. Darkvision, if she recalled that correctly. She just wasn’t sure about the hearing—they had the long ears like her kind, but with small . . . ridges along them. Perhaps he had sharpened senses as well, she just didn’t know.
Leona reached into her coin purse and grabbed a silver piece, rolling it between her knuckles in front of her. She valued mobile assets. Every coin she made that wasn’t in her pocket for short-term use was tied up in gems, jewelry, and assets that weren’t coins but could be traded for it in a pinch. Mobile items that she could transport with more ease.
The question is, she thought, is this Kryos the same type of half-dragon as the ones in the stories? She heard the comments downstairs even now—her sharp half-sea-elf hearing, able to pick up the comment of “half-dragon skim off the top,” and so she knew that others had their suspicions as well. Stories were, after all, based on nuggets of truth.
She had never met a half-dragon, but they were the subject of many a fairy tale. Sometimes as heroes . . . but more often as antiheroes and villains.
The ones that had the draconic, slitted eyes and looked mostly humanoid, taking from their father’s side in that regard? They were often put into roles of politicians and nobles, great saviors of the people and leaders of nations. But, their actions teetered more into the morally grey. Doing what was necessary for a greater good.
The ones that were like Kryos, with the more draconic features and no slitted eyes? The ones with dragon mothers and born from eggs—if the stories were true—they were often the villains in the stories: warlords, sea reavers, and brigands. Selfish, arrogant, brash, and they used their strength to dominate others.
Leona hissed in pain as her wrist flared with heat. She glanced down and saw the red circle appear. A rift notification, and it had just called her.
Damnit. Now? Really?!
She cursed and opened the door, going downstairs. As soon as she stepped off the staircase, she spotted Kryos and Pavish coming out of the equipment room. The half-dragon was kitted out in heavy armor.
Leona also spotted the glow on his wrist, just where the vambrace ended and his clawed hand began. Oddly enough, his claws seemed retracted, revealing near-human hands; though definitely bulky and rough-looking due to the scales.
And of course I got grouped with the half-dragon, she thought. Just my luck.
She scanned the room and spotted the third of their assigned group. Tavan, a Biomancer, who was standing up and heading toward his locker. A human in his early twenties, with a mop of long, blonde hair tied back in a knot, wearing chainmail and a white cloak over it.
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Pavish snapped, “Leona!” and her eyes locked onto him. It wasn’t a harsh tone, just a direction-grabbing one. “Looks like you got the foundling.”
“It’s gotta be a mistake,” Leona said as she turned the bannister and stood in front of Pavish and the thoroughly-confused looking half-dragon. “A single Breach, right when he shows up?”
“You know how it works,” Pavish said. “When a rift calls, you have to answer.”
Leona looked up at Kryos, who she had to admit looked like he would make a great Anchor. He was pounds upon pounds of muscle, very tall and broad, and she hated to admit it, physically impressive. “Fine,” she replied, keeping her voice neutral. “Let’s go.” She turned on her heel and marched to the doors leading out.
She could hear the heavy tread of the half-dragon behind her. “Mind explaining what’s going on? And your name is Leona?”
“Leona Bitterbrine,” she replied, opening the door. “We have to wait for Tavan anyways.”
A voice shouted from inside, “Be there in a second!”
Leona stepped out into the noon sun and took in a deep breath of the crisp air. She took a few more steps then turned to face Kryos, who had a nervous smile on his lips. “Okay, foundling, here’s how it works.” She held up her left hand, which had the glowing red circle with an arrow pointing to her right. “Rifts are these random events that happen all across the world. It’s part of being an adventurer—think of it like a challenge. You don’t follow my lead while inside? You’ll die.”
She saw his face go pale at that, and his nervous smile vanished as his lips tightened. “This rift is really that dangerous?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.
Leona cracked a smile. “I did tell you to ask someone to explain how it works.”
“About Quests!” he replied, sounding exasperated. “Not . . . some random red circle on my hand!”
She shrugged and crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto her right foot. “You don’t have to do it, but you should.”
“Why?”
She held the silver coin up in front of him that had never left her hand. “Simple: money. Well, and other loot, to boot.” She chuckled at her bit of rhyming. “Now,” she continued, pocketing the silver, “You can reject the call of a rift if you want to by putting your other hand in the center of the circle and saying, ‘I reject the call’---I guess for you it might be a finger instead—but I would advise against it. It’ll mean you’re less likely to be called in the future.”
Kryos’ eyes glinted with something Leona was very familiar with—greed. He nodded. “I came here to make money,” he said, his confidence seeming to return. “Okay, tell me more.”
Tavan came out of the building, holding a metal rod in one hand and a shield in the other. “Sorry. I’m ready to go.” He looked at Kryos. “You’re our new Anchor, I guess? Hi, I’m Tavan.”
“Kryos. Good to meet you. Anchor?”
Tavan glanced at Leona. “Oh, wow, he is a foundling.”
Leona shook her head, and pointed to Kryos. “Anchor,” then herself, “Breaker,” then Tavan, “Mender. Got it?”
Kryos nodded. “Got it.” He frowned. “Not really though.”
Leona turned and began walking down the path to the road, checking her wrist every so often to follow the arrow, and leading the way. “Anchor is the role that gets up front and tries to get the monster's attention. You keep them from hurting the Mender.” She hiked her thumb at Tavan behind her on her left. “And then my job as Breaker is to kill them while you keep them busy.”
“Oh,” Kryos replied, voice suddenly assured. “I can do that.”
“Tavan,” Leona said, “you’re well-read, why don’t you explain where rifts come from?” She made sure to glance back every few seconds, wanting to gauge how Kryos took in a deluge of information all at once, since she knew Tavan was an exposition expert.
“Sure!” Tavan said. “Well, Vorunor has a lot of magic. Sometimes it concentrates randomly, and rips open a tear to another reality. But, it’s not really a tear—more like a glimpse, or an echo, or a shadow of that reality. If they stay open for too long, then monsters start coming out. The Quest Conclave, years ago when they first set up, made it so that people would get notified in their HUD. A big, world-wide spell.” He took a deep breath.
Kryos interjected with a question, sounding genuinely curious. “World-wide spell? But we have Skills, not some magic spells.”
Tavan waved dismissively. “This was before the SAVE system was a thing, before magic was simplified down in that way. Anyways, everyone nearby would get a notification, and it was like a gold rush: the first people to clear it by killing the dungeon core would close it and receive an Artifact inspired by that reality that was touched. Everyone wanted in. Plus, there is other loot, treasure, precious objects, and the like. But, just one problem: rifts can only take so many people at once.”
Leona interrupted at that. “Rifts come in three sizes. From small to large: Breach, Chasm, Abyss. Only three people can enter a Breach, six to a Chasm, nine for an Abyss. New people can only enter if people exit.”
“And let me guess,” Kryos replied. “When Classes were grouped into these Anchor, Breaker, or Mender roles, these rifts end up being assigned to balanced groups to ensure the best chances of survival?”
Oh, he’s sharp, Leona thought. He took a little bit of information, added to it from what he learned earlier from Pavish, no doubt, and got . . . a bit right.
“That’s partially correct,” Tavan said excitedly. “A balanced group with one of each role works best, most of the time, but not always if you have good teamwork. Now, if you reject the call of a rift, then someone else is called up in your stead. If there’s no adventurers nearby, then the closest suitable Class is notified. So you could have unbalanced groups. I’ve heard of double-Mender and single-Anchor groups, or triple-Breaker groups doing quite well. You could notify the Quest Conclave of your preferred partners through the Quest Board with a simple announcement, and if you were in the area of a rift along with that person? You’d both get the call.”
“And if no one clears a rift? What happens?” Kryos asked.
“Monsters keep coming,” Leona said. “Until the rift is empty. Then it seals, the treasure and loot is lost forever, and that’s that.”
Kryos scratched his head between his horns. “That . . . huh . . . so there’s gotta be places in the world with tons of monsters just roaming around, right?”
“Oh, yes,” Tavan replied. “Rifts happen all the time in isolated places like deserts and tundras, and the closest people who are notified just can’t get there in time, or choose not to go.”
Leona stopped their journey and pointed down to her left, where there was a slope down a grassy hill into a dell. “Down there.” She led the way down the descent, and then saw it—a yawning, black hole with warbling, green edges. “Here’s the rift.” She looked back at Kryos and Tavan. “Ready?”
Kryos looked like he was sure-footed, and as she looked at him, she saw his body seem to condense. His form sank down an inch into the soil and grass, the armor that was sitting on his shoulders sunk down, the hair that was hanging loosely was dragged down, and she could sense the change in atmosphere around them as he seemed . . . sturdier. “You wanted an Anchor? You’ve got it. I’m guessing I'll go in first?”
“That’s the norm,” Leona replied, feeling a bit more confident than before, but still cautious.
He’s brand new to this, she thought. I can’t be surprised if he dies, or gets really badly hurt. I need to play this safe. And, keep an eye on him around any treasure we end up finding. Even thirty-three percent split all even, after the guild cut.
He moved forward and jumped into the rift, and Leona followed right after.