Biter

Dungeoneer’s Guild - Scouters, Explorers, Butchers, Merchants, Blacksmiths, Mercenaries, and Mages.

““A Guild is established per the King, Apsimir Rex Caloman II, to oppose the state of severe Fantod and unrest opposing the peace of the Kingdom of the northern continent of Kladia. Individuals will be compensated for the subjugation and destruction of unholy Magic Beasts within the kingdom…”

Is an excerpt from the royal decree from 25 years ago during the beginning of the era of demons. Guilds have become a very intricate symbiotic faculty with daily life of the lower and middle class along with prestigious dutiful valor in the case of nobel households across Kladia’s major holds.

A guild will hold up to a certain amount of staff members in conjunction to the population’s increase of monster subjugation needs, or local population economic activity and foot traffic, as the increase of individuals begin to arrive within any guild they will be checked to ensure no attempted coup, demonic worship, nor unjust treatment of any groups will be held.

A guild has members called “Adventurers,” each will be able to use a gods gift, a mass produced artifact, called an “Identity(or identify if you are somewhere else) Stone” which determines an individual’s [Skill]s, (Talent)s, and their attribute points, while they can see their freely available points they do not require an Identity Stone to allocate them, an Adventurer just needs to will their own status. It may be easier for those with a certain [Status] skill, or a (Keen Eye) talent to see and possibly interact with their own Status.

Each Adventurer, or other member of the Guild system has a Ranking. In the case for adventurers, there are:

Plateless (level 1, promoted to copper upon leveling up)

Copper (individuals below Level 5, with less than 5 requests completed)

Iron (adventurers exceeding Level 15, requires a subjugation of a medium magical beast to qualify.)

Bronze (adventurers exceeding Level 35)

Silver (adventurers Below Level 50, Officiated by the King once every 6 months)

Gold (adventurers that exceed Level 75, inspected by the church and the Kingdom, usually never seen as an adventurer afterwards)

Higher plate ranks exist for adventurers, but the number of adventurers with such plates have exploits that are on a global scale.

Merchants and Professions have 3 ranks, Bronze, Silver, and Golden, and while not less important, they perform duties integral for the guild. A normal bronze mage or blacksmith may be able to assist anyone with a basic set of equipment or their trinket-like artifacts, while a gold rank blacksmith would be able use the skeleton of a Hydra to make equipment for a bronze rank adventurer, comparable to a Gold-rank Adventurer.”

- Excerpt from “History of the Guildhouse.”

A wet thud sounds as a bloody horned rabbit hits the root-clad dirt of the dungeon grove, followed by a scream that rattles the hidden rodents within the first floor of the dungeon, a crying Sebas is seen stuffing his ripped shirt cloth within his left palm. Clenching his right fist and making a fuss in pain, he reels back and punches a tree closeby, a bad habit from his childhood training, his mentor’s suggestion, while brash and unruly it usually assisted him in mellowing out.

At this time it was the worst idea, as a stray tree limb floored him, shoving him into the reddish dirt, right where a rabbit’s lifeless eye stares at him in some form of judgment.

“Shut up you don’t know anything, you couldn’t even blind me.”

With a weak grasp, he grabs the horned rabbit by the ears and heads towards the entrance. Somehow able to manage opening the massive iron barrier blocking him from the dark sky beyond. He did just level up, he heard the mind message, it is not the worst thing to happen he supposes.

The loud dragging of metal against stone drags the attention of Elimir, Sir Elimir, the Asshole.

“Fuckin hell you look like shit.”

Sebas’ looks at him with a judgemental “no shit” expression.

“Well, you do, Urchin. Seems like you managed to not die, so good on you. I can take the spoils from you if you’d like.”

“Are you seriously mugging me?”

“Kid relax, I do my job here, sell me the horned rabbit corpse, and you get a bed to sleep in… and probably a new hand.”

An “oh” could not even be mustered from the weak boy. He flopped the dirty corpse on the counter

.

“Wow. Kid, I gotta say.” The guard has a curious expression, somewhere in between a smile and a smug grin, causing a raised eye from Sebas, who sits on a chair near the desk.

“This is the smallest, weakest looking Horned Rabbit I ever did see. Congrats, they would have carved “Tiny” on your grave if you died to this thing.”

“Sir Elimir.”

“Yes lad?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are the worst?”

A loud chuckle is heard as the guard pulls out 1 silver coin and 28 copper, placing them in small leather sack, drawing Sebas’ attention and a sneaky hand before the guard covers it with his massive palm: “I like you kid, you didn’t die, despite not going in without a weapon, and you can throw words back instead of sitting and taking a verbal beating, go do me a favor and meet with this one maiden at the church, her name is Nria, she’ll fix your digits.”

Sebas, taken aback, mutters a thanks and awkwardly grabs for the coin pouch after the guild man’s gushy gesture.

Later, he arrives at the guildhouse, where a new shift of guild handlers have arrived. “I was told I can get a bed here?” Sebas asks.

“Of course sir, a mere 3 copper and we’ll get you a fish and a cot.” A male guild handler with animal ears says.

Placing 3 coins on the table, the guild handler bows, and leads him to an available room, taking a staircase near the main desk, where halls of small singular rooms, some with these blue circular rune circles placed upon the door’s latch, which upon prodding makes them immobile.

The handler shows Sebas a room labeled “16” and says, “if anything is needed from us, you just need to ask, perhaps a potion for the wound?”

Sebas asks “how much?”

With a wry grin, the cat-like man says “5 Silver for a good quality potion sir, surely an Aren will have plenty?”, which prompts a “uh-huh” and a slammed door from the newbie Adventurer.

Small, compact, with a place to store your belongings, a door at the southeast, and to the east is a mirror, where a young lad with bright red but dirty hair and black eyes looks at himself, a shocking amount of blood stains his mouth, teeth, and bare chest.

Extremely scrawny… muscles atrophied… look like shit.

Over in the northwestern corner of the room sits a bed, a mana powered bulb on a lamp atop a bedside table, and even a strange, probably complementary journal.

Sebas sits on the edge of the bed, brushing the clean animal furs on the bed, and clenches it with his good hand, sobbing softly.

Comfort is an alien sensation. Sebas passes out, curled up in the bed, reddened eyes are allowed within a sanctuary. He will deal with the wound tomorrow, hunger, and his clothes.

[5 Stat Points are available to be allocated.]