“You don’t sound very convinced, stranger.”
Quinn got up so fast he actually fell backwards, the railing digging into his bruised back as he looked around in alarm. The balcony was devoid of life or furnishings of any kind, but an arched doorway with vibrant, hanging beads led into a cluttered hovel. Iridescent light with a golden tint reflected off of the beads from inside, each swing of the braided ropes in the breeze causing a flurry of halos in his enhanced vision. He squinted through the visual assault, but couldn’t see the owner of the calm, androgynous voice. It was high and reedy, reminding him of the pure-blood elven performers that danced through the market on occasion, selling the little trinkets that Clay collected. Well… it was Clay. He collected everything.
His instincts were screaming at him to jump into the pile of trash speckled with gold beneath him, but he was afraid the enforcers would be there any minute to collect his abandoned spoils. Straightening his back, he put aside the discomfort in his feet and the sharp, hot pains he felt in his chest when he breathed too deep. Quickly pulling off his… “commandeered” waiter’s jacket from the auction, he jammed the hefty ruby into one of the sleeves and began wrapping it into a tight bindle. Lacking a stick, he instead used the empty sleeve as a strap and threw it over his shoulder. Nothing, not even the cold hands of death, would take his ruby.
Cautiously approaching the doorway, he pulled the beads aside to reveal a cramped and dusty office space. The only light was a spinning, golden orb at the centre of the ceiling, and the glow it gave off was sharp and oppressive. Not a single shadow was able to form in the vast aura of the orb, which allowed him to easily spot the top half of a small, huddled figure, sitting behind a short desk near overflowing with papers and scrolls.
Their hunter green skin was cracked and clammy, and a tight patch of silver hair grew in an intricate knotted tuft nearly a meter long, running down to the floor from the back of their nobbly head. Despite their diminutive stature putting them even shorter than Quinn himself, their tapered ears more than matched his height, and they twitched and moved with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Above a crooked nose were eyes almost the size of his ruby, but a milky-white fog clouded their grey pupils, turning their stare distant and unfocused. Hands with claw-like fingers emerged from the edge of the desk like towering spiders, each seeming to have a mind of its own as they tapped and danced across the papers, moving at speeds that his improved reflexes could barely follow.
“What, you never seen a blind goblin before?” they asked with a crooked smile, revealing rows upon rows of black, glass-like pointed teeth.
“Uhh… no I haven’t… sorry…” Quinn said quietly, unsure if he hadn’t actually hit his head when he landed on the balcony, and this was just a very strange dream or hallucination.
“Well you’re the first short elf I’ve ever seen!” they cackled, each boisterous laugh causing the sun-like lamp to brighten and dim in rapid sequence. Each undulation caused painful spots in his vision, but he had grown accustomed to adjusting his pupils to walk in the daytime. He felt his highly dilated pupils constrict to razor-thin slits, blocking out some of the overbearing radiance. Unsurprisingly, the goblin didn’t react at all to the usually unnerving sight of his cat-like eyes.
“Hey, I’m not a… wait, how can you tell what I am anyway, you’re blind!” Quinn huffed, half tempted to jump off the terrace after all.
“I’ve still got a nose, don’t I? I could smell the elf on you if I was dead!" They laughed again, but the laughter died quickly as Quinn began stepping back onto the terrace. “Wait! Where are you going? I know why you’re up here, and you’re safer in here than out there!” they called after him, the joviality stripped from their voice like throwing water on a fire.
“I’d rather find more pleasant company, if you don’t mind.” Quinn said over his shoulder, but his next step through the beads was stopped by a surprisingly strong hand gripping his leg. The hold was tight and slightly painful, and his insides were suddenly roiling at the fact that he hadn’t been able to sense its approach at all. The seemingly frail goblin had speed that he most likely wouldn’t be able to match if this was about to become a chase, so he had to disorient them first. He turned his upper body as his fist flashed forwards, a quick strike to the small creature’s temple to stun them, hopefully giving him enough time to escape.
His fist froze, less than an inch from the goblin’s head. Their murky eyes showed no malice or mockery. They were wide and afraid, but not of him. For him.
“Please… they will find you if you go now. Stay for a while, and you can leave through the main entrance.” their voice was much smaller now, the light dimming enough for ghosts of shadows to dance at their feet. They briefly met his gaze with two large, clouded pupils, and Quinn saw something that few other than Clay had ever shown him before.
“You have kind eyes, stranger, but your words were not.” he said, before stepping back from the beads. The goblin smiled once more, letting go of his leg and dawdling back behind his desk. Now that he could see the creature in motion, he was honestly more intrigued than offended. Their legs could barely be considered such, as they were so slim and tiny he almost thought the goblin was floating. In a slightly disturbing contrast, their arms were incredibly long and pliable, wrapping all the way around their back and over their shoulders as both hands formed a wiry cage around their chubby torso. He realised with a start that they probably could have grabbed him without moving, if they had really wanted to.
“Why would you help me?” Quinn asked half-accusingly, leaning against the wall between two towering stacks of mismatched papers so he could feel a little less exposed. It didn’t help as much as he had hoped.
“I have my reasons… but mostly I’m just curious….” They said with a smirk, the kindness and fear gone from their face like pulling away a mask. But Quinn knew the truth; he had seen it. This was the mask, and he was guessing it was to actually make him more comfortable, not less. With a slight bit of shame, he admitted to himself that it was working. If they had stayed all polite and concerned, he probably would have fled faster than if they had pulled a knife. Threats he was used to, but reassurance? Feeling safe also made him feel vulnerable, as paradoxical as it seemed. Like a peaceful rabbit, unaware of the python slinking down from the branches above.
“Curious about what… my smell?” He said with a small snort, adjusting the “bag” over his shoulder. He didn’t know how the goblin knew where he was before, but he was hoping he couldn’t actually smell mana or something. The ruby was certainly filled with mana, and the less attention that was drawn to it the better.
“That gem you’re hiding from me so well… I can feel it all the way from here, and it feels… dangerous. Powerful. Probably quite valuable, yes?” They cooed sarcastically, causing a blank look to form on Quinn’s face as he adjusted his footing.
“What about it?” He tried to ask casually, but there was a subtle warning in his tone that he couldn’t quite hide.
“Are you going to sell it?” That question had not been what he had expected to hear, and it surprised him enough for him to answer immediately.
“NO, it’s mine.” He said a little too firmly, his iron grip on the makeshift satchel causing his knuckles to turn a strained white.
“Now THAT was the correct answer my boy, HAHA!” the goblin nearly yelled in glee, the lights growing so bright that he almost had to cover his eyes despite his slitted pupils. “Now let me guess… an item you would rather die than part with, despite a quite substantial resale price going by the mana density… and most likely being stolen goods considering how you obviously fled for your life, which is why you were on my balcony…” They began muttering to themselves, a rhythmic tapping echoing throughout the room as their long fingers drummed in waves across the desk.
“Was it a class quest?” Quinn’s rueful silence seemed to answer the question as their grin returned. “I’m guessing the levels have been coming slow, huh? Restrictive class?”.
“Unfortunately, and… yes, it was.” Quinn finally said after a long pause, deciding that talking was better than brooding. He had elected to take after his brother for once and actually talk about his problems. Clay was always so open with him about how he felt, perhaps it would be good for him to unburden himself to a stranger. Especially one that didn’t chase him through the street.“My class is… Thief.”.
“I’m guessing it’s just the theft itself that gives you experience, yes? Not lockpicking, sneakery, donning a disguise and the like?” they replied in an intrigued tone, completely indifferent to what could technically be considered a criminal confession.
“XP does come in short spurts, but I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” He said, the ghost of amusement tugging at the side of his face. “I answered your questions, would you be willing to answer some of mine?”.
“A reasonable request… ‘tit-for-tat’, as it were.” They said with a rye smile.
“Fair enough… so… what exactly do you… do? In this room, I mean. There’s so much paper I’m surprised you don’t get cuts from simply breathing in here…” He trailed off, his eyes roaming over the piles of cryptic documents that littered every surface.
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“I am an Appraiser, and a very busy one at that. I study and catalogue magical items for private buyers, sellers and… the royal houses.” His voice turned sour as he mentioned the royals, like a bad taste had entered his mouth. Quinn knew exactly how bitter that taste could be, as he had been stomaching its filth his whole life.
“So… you have money then? Real money?” Quinn asked, trying desperately to keep the incredulousness from creeping into his voice. If the goblin worked with magical treasures, then surely they had enough money to live somewhere less… modest? Even to Quinn, the goblin’s office was just… sad.
“Sure, I have money! Tons of it! But there's always a catch, you see…” One of their pointed fingers tapped their shrunken brow, and an intricate carving of a complex sigil sparked into being. It covered the entirety of their forehead, and thin tendrils of pulsing energy like the tentacles of an octopus snaked down their face and around their eyes.
“You’re conscripted?” He asked in confusion. “I thought conscripted couldn't… you know… break the law?” Quinn gestured to himself, trying to hide his anxiety after seeing the king's brand. “How are you not obligated to attack me on sight like the enforcers, or raise an alarm or something?”.
“Different shackles for different prisoners, my boy.” They sighed, the sigil fading with a snap of their distended claws. “Lawyers, personal servants, appraisers… all have to follow different rules than those glorified attack dogs. My bonds are a little looser, because if they weren't…” Their distant gaze briefly twisted into a deep, mournful expression, another peak behind their mask of false contentment. “If they weren't, then I wouldn't be able to help with their “off-the-books” orders, now would I?”.
“The lawmakers break the law when it suits them, then use them to break us... sounds familiar…” Quinn muttered, dark memories swirling like storm clouds through his mind as he reflexively opened his character sheet. He always did, whenever he thought of the boots the gods and royals had placed on his neck since birth.
Name: Quinn
Race: Gnelf (gnome, elf)
Class: Thief (common)
Level: 15
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 54 ( 48 + 10%)
Endurance: 22
Vitality: 11
Intelligence: 27
Perception: 63
Willpower: 13
Luck: 27 (25 + 10%)
Unassigned AP: 15
Archetype: Rogue
Your blood is tainted with darkness and trickery, destined for a life of struggle and greed.
AP gained per level: +2 Dexterity, +1 Luck, +1 unassigned Ability Point
Achievements:
Superior Combatant (common)
You have shed the blood of a fellow Classbound of the same level or higher than you. For good or ill, the stain forever lingers, and their strength is yours to reap.
Bonus AP increases with each additional honourable kill of another Classbound. Rarity of achievement and bonus AP may increase depending on the level disparity between you and your kill.
Honourable kills: 1
+1 AP to Vitality and Willpower
Lucky Break (rare)
Survive an attack from a creature more than 30 levels above you.
+5% AP to Luck
Heavenly Harvest (epic)
Gain between 5 and 9 levels from a single instance of class experience gain.
+10% AP to base class stat (Dexterity)
+5% AP to base class secondary stat (Luck)
Skills:
1st level Class Skill: Eyes of Opportunity (rare)
Sharp and keen, always searching for riches and dangers.
Enhanced range and acuity of visual perception. Increased vision in low-light environments.
Active: Learn the monetary value of an object you can see. No other information given. Given value uses the metric of the region you are located.
Mana Cost per Second: Variable, dependent on value of object identified.
AP Level Bonus: +2 Perception, +1 Intelligence
5th level Class Skill: Deft Hands (common)
Precise and true, hands always reaching for the forbidden fruit.
Enhanced hand-eye coordination and accuracy. Increased sense of touch.
AP Level Bonus: +1 Dexterity, +1 Perception
10th level Class Skill: Alleycat’s Grace (uncommon)
Swift and nimble, always ready to cut and run.
Enhanced leaping and movement speed. Increased reaction speed. -15% stamina cost for movement and movement-based skills.
AP Level Bonus: +2 Dexterity, +1 Endurance
Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw the massive jump in his stats, briefly forgetting about his surroundings as he pondered on his gains. An extra 10% to Dexterity would be huge for his future progress; it was the one stat that he relied on more than any other, With perception a close second. Most of the free AP he had gained over the years had been split into Endurance and Perception, and his Luck had always been higher than normal thanks to his archetype. Well, that and the Lucky Break achievement. He had gotten it as a child, when he was too young to see his own progress, and perhaps only his parents knew of the tale surrounding it. He didn’t want to know, especially if it meant knowing them as well. The bonus to his Luck was nice, but frankly he tried his hardest not to rely on chance to keep him alive. Caution and speed were his favourite tools, and he had years of practice using them to the fullest.
Despite his efforts, his eyes kept going back to Superior Combatant. He hadn’t had time to really process the events of the auction, and now that the adrenaline was rapidly flooding out of his system, he felt mentally and physically drained. His stamina reserves had been completely burned through from his stunt on the balcony, and the fact that he ran and leapt through almost every district in the city like a rat in a maze hadn’t helped. He hadn’t slowed or stopped for longer than five seconds until the balcony, and now that he had he felt faint and weak. Finally giving in to his body, Quinn slowly lowered himself to the ground, leaning his shoulder into the wall as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He was suddenly feeling glad he hadn’t fled from his current host, as he doubted he could even stand, let alone run.
“You look tired, boy. Your trial was… arduous, yes? Rest your eyes child… clear your mind…” The goblin half-whispered, their words feeling like a calming breeze that passed right through him. The warm glow of the light was getting dimmer and dimmer, and the slow, rhythmic tapping of the goblin’s fingers felt like it was pulling him further into a dark embrace. All Quinn could do was nod his head once, and close his eyes. The God of Dreams took him in moments, but what met him was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.
The auction.
“Curious indeed…” Jarbin of the Last Harvest sighed with dismay for the frightened young child. His stamina channels had been taxed to the point of actually damaging his body, and even somewhat bruising his soul. His Arcane Assessor skill revealed clear signs of massive mana overexposure, and Jarbin was frankly amazed he hadn’t died from how much had suffused through his underdeveloped pathways. Jarbin had felt their approach from nearly a mile; he was like the sun itself, but holding a spiritual void in the palms of his hands. They had heard whispers of the Dragon’s Eye Ruby, from one of their contacts that saw the massacre this boy had gotten mixed up in. It was likely what had drained the dangerous energies out of him, otherwise he would have burst into flames from the inside. The ruby’s aura was overflowing with blood and hunger, and the unseen threads of the skill kept being broken down and swallowed each time they attempted to study its strange depths.
“Quite a difficult path you walk, isn’t it boy…” Jarbin said with a forlorn expression, reaching into the lower drawer of their worn desk and pulling out a dimensional rucksack. “Perhaps it will be worth it… in time…”.
