Entry: 009
“The A.S.O.B. is a beautiful building built around a rotten core. They sell children on heroism using cheap hologram fireworks, but the classes they assign are just uniforms for cannon fodder.”
— Captain (Retired) Jona Sixx, Former Knyght Order Scout
The Adventuring Society Operations Bureau was, as always, a complex affair. The building’s exterior was a nine-story circular structure of stone and glass with Corinthian columns evenly spaced around the perimeter. Inside, the main hall displayed a domed ceiling held up by more columns. Ensconced along the outer wall was a series of small enclosed planning rooms for rental. Between each room, the walls displayed trophies from some of the greatest accomplishments of the office’s regular lances.
A single circular office desk wrapped around the room at the halfway point to the center. The desk was operated by clerks, each taking and dispensing physical and digital documents. Hands exchanged papers between folders, or digital holograms appeared at the beck of the therra-node at each of their temples.
Several paces past the operations management desk was the Adventurer-only job board, a hologram display board covered with work ready for acceptance. Even at that moment, men and women from all walks of life eyed the board for paying work that matched well with their lances’ skills.
Beyond that, the job board was four elevators leading above and below ground in transparent tubes. Those elevators were doing a brisk business, rising and dropping clerks and adventurers on surfaces of hard air.
Sin felt out of place in such a grand scene of power and ready action. He stood beside the rest of his lance, Alex still in his tank-ish shape. Faith led the team up to the desk to interact with a ready-and-waiting clerk. The clerk was a Wood Elf woman with a plastic smile and dead eyes. Her nametag read Willow. “Welcome to the A.S.O.B. Broadhead Settlement branch.” She said in a falsely bubbly voice. “We’re here to offer services great and small to Champions new and old. How can I help you today?”
“Greetings and thank you for your aid, Miss Willow,” Faith said in a polite, slightly positive tone. “We,” she gestured to the newly named lance. “Are you looking to register a new lance and acquire the needed classifications and seals for our outlier team members?”
“Of course, ma’am,” Willow said as her eyes lit with rectangles of blue light as she interacted with her therra-node. She made a few poking and typing gestures before a scanner in the desk projected a beam of light tracing up and down Faith’s body. “Thank you for your patience, Miss…Faith,” she said, the woman’s name like she was reading from a document only she could see. “All of your legal and social seals seem to be in order.” Willow focused back on Faith. “Will you be a member or a patron?”
“Patron,” Faith answered with a platinum-quality smile. “I have already filed all the necessary documents for two re-seals, five rank increases, two classification examinations, and a starter sealing.” She listed off the filings like she was reciting a grocery list.
“Of course, ma’am,” Ivy said. “I see here that all of your documents are in order.” She pointed toward the elevators. “Re-sealing will be done on the second floor. Rank-up testing is done on subfloor two. Class examinations are on the eighth floor, and starter sealing is done on the top floor.”
“Well, you heard the lady,” the Witch said. “I want everything done ASAP so we can get started right after.”
Without another word, Ill Omen Acquisitions moved to the elevators to make their way to the necessary floors. Sin rode up to the top floor when his turn came. As soon as Sin reached his floor, he’d gotten one foot off the plate of hard air before it vanished, almost sending him falling back down the chute. However, Sin managed to right himself before looking around the space.
The ninth floor looked no different from an ordinary office floor. A reception desk sat just ahead of the elevators, operated by a haggard male Dwarf. Sin nervously asked the man where he was supposed to go, and the irritated Dwarf gave him vague directions while he sorted through papers.
Sin found himself lost not once but twice before heading back to the desk and requesting the Dwarf escort him. The stout man slipped from behind his desk, muttering something bitter under his breath as he led the Immortal down one hall, then another, and stopped before a door labelled ‘Entry Video Room’. Sin opened the door wearily to find a dark room occupied by rows of desks and chairs, each desk installed with a hologram projector displaying the same little show across each desk. Several of the chairs were occupied by fresh-faced recruits. Three Humans barely old enough to be called men sat close to the front. A large green-skinned Orc woman sat near the back. A High Elf man sat in the farthest left row, while a Wild Elf woman sat in the farthest right row.
As Sin took a seat behind the Wild Elf, he took note of the video that was playing on the screens. A cartoon figure of a sword comically walked back and forth across the desk’s face. Behind the bulging-eyed character sat five logos, hovering and bobbing lightly in place. “Now that we’ve covered what Adventurers do,” the sword said. “And if you think it’s still something for you, you might be asking, ‘Gee, Mr. Saber, where do Adventurers fit in when it comes to the Ascension Archetypes?’ Well, I have an answer for you.” The character bounced off his pommel to leap across to the other side of the desk. “While you and I might know about the Archetype system, we might have a stranger to the method, so we’ll cover the basics really quickly.”
Mister Saber held up two of his three-fingered hands, indicating the number five. “We have five standard Archetype fields. Each of these fields is critical to keeping society running and healthy.”
The Wild Elf in front of Sin gave a derisive snort. “Healthy my ass.”
The sword character continued with his lesson. “Everyone inside a standard settlement is classified under one of these Archetypes.” The icon on the far left floated forward to slowly bob and rotate beside Mister Saber. The character gestured to the icon of a crown containing a crossed quill and gavel. “First, we have the Authority Archetype. These are the leaders and decision-makers. From Sovereigns overseeing settlements or nations to Judicators making legal rulings and even Preachers guiding their followers, these are all leaders in their own right,” the sword wagged a finger at the viewer. “So be sure to listen when they speak.”
“Yeah right.” Muttered the Wild Elf with thick disdain as she folded her arms and leaned back on the rearmost legs of her chair. Sin couldn’t help but agree. Authority figures we far too often corrupt, inept, or both.
“Of course, next are the Auxiliary Archetypes.” The sword snapped its fingers. In response, the Authority icon floated back and turned a dark gray. At the same time, the next icon came to the front. This one was a crossed smith’s hammer and syringe encircled by a laurel of olive branches. “These are the crucial men, women, and others who perform critical services like medical aid, farming, resource management, scouting, and transport. These are a critical part of society, and don’t forget that.”
The Wild Elf turned back to Sin, resting an arm across the back of her seat. “Can you believe this dreck?” She asked. “My Da was an Auxiliary. Got treated like trash every day.”
Sin gave a wordless grunt in response before turning back to the hologram. The Auxiliary logo drifted back and grayed out as the next symbol came forward. This one was of an open book with a sextant on one page and a pen crossed with a ruler. “Next, we have the Scholar Archetype,” the sword said. “These are the inventors, archivists, and explorers. They are the brains of society and are at the core of our progress in technology, study, and discovery.”
“More like eggheads with lead lobes when it comes to anything outside their books.” The Wild Elf said. Sin agreed with the woman’s perspective. The great minds of almost any age were busier digging into mysteries or defying the natural laws before they even thought about whether they should be doing so.
The Scholar logo faded into the background, replaced with a symbol made up of four circles outlining a square and surrounded by another twelve, six above and six below, these circles linked with the one directly opposite them. “Another critical cornerstone of our civilized world is the Mystics.” The character continued. “These are the Mages. Whether they use Proto-Arcana or Neo-Arcana, they are critical to keeping our settlements safe and running smoothly.”
The Wild Elf snorted and shook her head. “A bag of limp dicks, the lot of them.”
The Mystic logo faded into the background, and the last one came forward. This final logo was a crossed rifle and sword with a wand lined up down the center, all set before a backdrop of a classic kite shield. “Now, this is where you come in, soon-to-be Adventurer.” At the cartoon character’s words, the logo bounced once and dissolved into four separate designs. “Champions are on the front line of defense and offense of our society. While each of the other Archetypes can be widely broken down into five subtypes each, Champions are broadly subtyped as Shields, Strikers, Supports, and Slingers.”
The first symbol — that of a shield — bounced and spun cheerily. “Shields are the defenders, ready to take a hit and hit back just as hard.”
The second symbol — a sword — bounced and spun. “Strikers are your lance’s heavy hitters. The job of this role is to strike and drop any threats that need to be prioritized.”
The third symbol — this one, a crossed syringe and wrench — bounced and spun. “Supporters are often the backbone of any lance. These members can provide aid ranging from in-field medical support to deployable tactical aid like defenses, traps, or turrets.”
The fourth and final logo — this one a glass orb holding a still flame — bounced and spun. “Our final subtype is the Slinger,” said the sword. “These are simply Mages. The Slinger role can be filled by anything from a Sorcerer to an Arcane Circuiter. The Slinger’s magical specialty should be carefully picked to fill whatever tactical holes your lance has, or coming from the opposite direction, your lance should be built around your Slinger’s skill-set.”
Sin let out a slow, tired sigh as he sat back in his seat and rubbed his forehead with two fingers in a futile attempt to ward off a headache. “Sinisterly structured society,” he cursed. “Mice from the warrens working for the cats in a bloody tithe.”
The Wild Elf turned back to Sin. “Mice and cats is right, Brother. I can’t believe what a world we’re in.”
The hologram character spun across the desktop, knocking the four forward icons back, to merge with the four rear icons. The character continued. “You should keep in mind that you can have more than one Archetype. An expedition leader would be part of the Authority, with training as a Champion, and maybe even training as a Scholar.”
The gathered symbols then merged into a single coin that bounced twice before expanding into a window displaying a list. “Keep in mind that not all Champions are Adventurers. Many become a Champion simply for the access to the classes.” The sword did a pirouette before strolling back to the other side of the desk. “Now, you might be asking, ‘Mister Saber, what are classes exactly?’ Well, I have your answer right here.” He waved toward the window, scrolling a list of classes. There were dozens of classes, if not hundreds. “Classes aren’t just for Champions. Every Archetype has classes, but most people call them jobs or careers. Classes are trails of life that have already been blazed by those who came before. Mage classes are based on their elemental affinities and decide their spell focus. For them, it’s a simple label that defines what they can do.” The cartoon sword snapped its fingers again. A logo of flames held by a gauntleted hand appeared, followed by one of a crossed staff and wand, and a third displaying the core four elements of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water. “Sorcerers have a different affinity list than Wizards or Elementalists, or any other Mage class. Thus, they have a different skill set. Sorcerers make excellent Battle Mages.” The logo of flames bounced high into the air and exploded into a micro-show of fireworks. “Meanwhile, Wizards make great arcane engineers or researchers.” The logo of the staff and wand spun faster and faster, circling the desk before splitting in half and vanishing. “Along the same lines, Elementalists can be versatile team members.” The elemental logo split into four pieces that flew around the desk in an equidistant circle before clashing together and melting into the desk.
Sin rubbed one eye with a single finger, irritated that he had to sit through this monologue to learn about the basic facets of society. The standard information on Adventurers could be gleaned simply by asking anyone on the street. There was a reason that so many people stepped into the adventuring field of work. The way the Adventuring Society Operations Bureau managed classes and rank progression was ingenious. Offering an Adventurer a clear path of progress within their class, offering new tools, equipment, training, and/or skills with select ranks kept the bees coming back to the hive for just a little more honey so they can get just a bit further and that much closer to death.
The Sword continued its explanation, drawing another sigh from Sin. “Adventurer Classes can be labelled as one of three types, not to be confused with the roles that they can fill.” Three new icons came into being, each shaped like a coin with a different design. The first coin displayed a pair of crossed swords, the second showed a magic glyph, the third bore a crossed sword and wand. “You have your Martial classes like Warrior, Knyght, or Deadeye.” The martial coin burst into a cloud that coalesced into an armored Warrior, slashing a blade at nothing, then defending an invisible blow with a shield. “These are Champions use no magic, instead favoring martial skills or advanced equipment to control the tides of battle.”
The second coin burst like the first, the cloud condensing into a robed Elf casting bolts of lightning into the sky with muted cracks of thunder. “The second type are Mages or Mystics.” The sword character said, waving a hand toward the Sorcerer. “We’ve already discussed what they can do to some degree, so I’ll keep this brief. Some Mystics can use Neo-Arcana, or new-age magic, utilizing modern technology as a medium to cast spells, like Arcane Circuiters. Some utilize Affinity-Arcana, crafting magical formulas within their minds to produce magical effects, like Sorcerers or Wizards. Some use Proto-Arcana, old-age magic based around faith and service to a god or titan, like Clerics. Still others gain power from a pact with a powerful being, which dictates what abilities they have access to. Witches and Warlocks fall into this last category. Regardless of what type of Mystic they are, they are all people you should show respect and cross at your own peril.”
The last coin burst to form into a Human woman with less armor than the Martial, but more than the Mystic. She held a sidearm that looked distinctly familiar to Sin. It was a Hexgun, not unlike the Witch’s. The figure fired three shots into the nothingness before flames enveloped her free hand. “Our last organization type is a hybrid between Martial and Mystic, known as Manifold. These are individuals who blur the line between the other two types. Their magic isn’t as strong as a full Mystic, and their martial skills aren’t as honed as a full Martial class, but they can be a force on the battlefield to be ignored at your own risk.”
The three hologram figures instantly burst into combat with one another. The Mystic lashed out at the Martial with an arcing flow of lightning. The Martial defended with his shield while circling and closing the distance between him and the other two. The Manifold fired a shot at the Mystic, striking him in the leg. “There’s a common misconception,” said the cartoon sword, “that these three types of classes work like a big game of rock, paper, scissors. Mystic beats Martial, Martial beats Manifold, and Manifold beats Mystic. However, this is a gross oversimplification. For example, a Knyght is a Martial class, and an Adroit is a Manifold class, but if the two faced off, it would only mean a stalemate.”
The Martial figure shifted to a hulking figure of power armor, while the Manifold figure shifted, losing her gun and armor to be dressed in thin and tight clothes. As the two took up battle stances, the Mystic faded into the background. The Knyght and Manifold flew at each other. “The Knyght’s armor can’t be easily broken, even with the physical enhancements of the Adroit, but the Adroit is far too agile to be easily struck or captured without assistance.” The battle that took place on the desk reflected the cartoon mentor’s words. The Adroit raced around, flipping over the Knyght, dodging heavy blows, but none of her blows left any damage whenever she saw a chink in the Knyght’s armor.
“As another example,” the sword’s words, the Knyght retreated into the background and the Mystic returned. The Manifold retook the form of a Hexxen Bane, and the two started battling. The Manifold flung out her free hand and made a grasping motion. In response, the lightning crackling around the Mystic died out like a switch had been flipped. “A Hexxen Bane could seal the negative-aligned magics of a Mystic for a short period, making them devastating to classes like Sorcerer or Profane.” The Manifold character put a shot between the eyes of the Mystic, dropping him like a sack of flour. “However,” The Mystic’s body started glowing, and his robes changed to something more priestly. “If they were faced with a Cleric of a positive-aligned god, they would be hard-pressed to win the fight.”
The three figures vanished in puffs of smoke that reformed back into the list of classes. “After you finish here, you will be tested to see which class best suits you.” The sword said, rubbing its non-existent chin with a finger. “But before we let you dive into that, we need to discuss how being an Adventurer works.”
The hologram synthesised a band of five Adventurers, three Human men and two Human women. “Your job will be to take quests that can range in work from collecting herbs to guarding a caravan or exterminating monsters, and much more.” The hologram lance set about doing tasks as the environment around them shifted. The women were picking herbs in tall grass while the three men battled goblins rushing at them.
“Once you have a lance team, you’ll need to complete a preset number of missions of a difficulty matching your present rank.” The figures and environment vanished to be replaced with a list of ranks. “After you’ve completed enough quests and enough time has passed, you’ll take a rank-up exam.” Check marks appeared beside each rank, starting from the bottom rank of Copper Novitiate and proceeding up to the top rank of Adamantine Master. “If you pass the exam, you’ll be granted access to a new list of tools and training that is exclusive to your class and rank.” The list shifted to images of weapons, spell tomes, design blueprints, and assorted gadgets. “You’ll be allowed to pick a single goody from the magic box, and you won’t get another chance until you rank up again. These benefits and how you can gain them are exclusive to being an Adventurer, which requires you to work with the Bureau, so don’t go thinking that doing some freelance work without the Bureau will net you any gains.”
Sin closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of his seat, tired and ready to move on to some real work. Both of the front legs of his chair snapped, and Sin fell forward, bouncing his head off the face of the table.
It hadn’t been thirty minutes since Vex had entered the Bureau office, and she was already more than ready to leave. She stood at the entrance to a massive metal-walled arena. She was waiting for her turn to show her stuff to this clearly newby proctor. At that moment, an Orc with the Jager class was clashing blades with his own proctor.
Her proctor was a Star Elf man of maybe seventy years of age, meaning he was in the Human age window of about his mid-twenties. But it was always hard to tell with Elves with their timeless faces. His name was Tolke, and he kept making these nervous actions, touching his over-gelled lavender hair, scratching his pale pink skin, and fidgeting with his hex weapon, a large dagger with intricate hex-work and a large pink-red gem set into the guard. Worst of all, Tolke kept giving Vex furtive glances, like he wanted to say something.
Vex took a slow breath, smoothed the few wrinkles from her coat, and allowed a predatory, but practiced, smile to soften the edges of her face. Vex didn’t have time for the boy’s crush on her. He may have had several decades on her, but he was still a kid to Vex, even if he was a gold journeyman rank. Vex had no interest in trying a fling relationship with the first guy who hit on her. She’d always been of the mind that if she was meant for love, it would find her when she was ready. And with this new job, she was far from ready for another drastic life change.
However, Faith had given Vex explicit instructions to flirt with the proctor to gain his favor. She didn’t feel comfortable cheating to get where she needed to be. Vex didn’t like it, but she couldn’t disregard an instruction from her new boss on her third day on the job. Vex hated having authority figures looming over her with commands and demands in equal measure. Faith might not have made any demands yet, but she twisted Vex’s arm to get her under the Immortal’s thumb. But Vex needed the Omens. She needed her curse gone. She needed not to have voices screaming in her ears whenever she passed somewhere some poor luck bastard died with stains on their soul.
“So…” Vex started, causing Tolke to jump a little in surprise. “That’s a nice-looking hex weapon. What’s it enchanted with?”
“Oh! Um…” Tolke stumbled over his response. “Nothing too fancy. Just a few Hexxen Brands like Resonance Breaker, Spell Counter, and Shackle-Stone Grip.” He unsheathed his dagger and deftly twirled it around his fingers in practiced motions. “What about you? You’ve got a Hexgun, right?”
“Yeah,” Vex said. “It works different from melee weapons, like yours. I need to enchant individual rounds with brands. I use Shackle-Stone Rounds, Leech Fang Rounds, and Spell Cracker Rounds right now. Like you, nothing fancy. What about the rest of your Hextech gear?”
Tolke rolled his eyes. “I’m no good at building the things, and need crafters to slap the dumb things together. To top it off, my patron has given me crumbs for designs beyond my spell focus.” He held up his dagger by the point to emphasize his words.
“Speaking of, who’s your patron?” Vex asked.
Tolke blew out an irritated breath. “A dead guy who goes by The Grave Keeper,” he said the title with a falsely dramatic voice like some old-age horror movie narrator. “The guy is a copper-pincher of the grumpiest kind. You?”
Vex rolled her tongue piercing around her mouth in thought. How much should she tell him? Normally, asking a Hexxen Bane about their patron was bad manners, but Tolke seemed eager to talk to her. She decided that she could share a bit, but not everything. “Not far from your situation. I’m tied to a dusty Immortal gunsmith Dwarf. He’s… got some odd quirks. I’m pretty sure he’s insane.”
Tolke let out a barking laugh. “I think any patron in our line of work is at least a little crazy. I mean, what sane person has that much power AND gives out pacts like candy?”
Vex snorted. “I think you have a point.” She had his interest. Now she just needed the hook to catch him. “Say, after this, you want to go catch a quick munch?”
“Yeah!” Tolke half shouted in eager excitement. “I know where to find a Beefy Boy Burger Shack nearby that sells pretty good stuff.”
Vex had him now. Tolke would pass her just to make sure he’d get that meal with her. She felt a bit sick at the manipulative act. She had half a mind to stand him up after the test. She had places to be and Omens to hunt after all. But leaving poor Tolke to eat a lonely burger was a hard and somewhat sharp mental image. Vex had been used and manipulated plenty of times. It never got any better being to one whose strings were pulled only to drop when you turned to ask for help and support.
When Vex’s turn came for her exam, the test was easy and quick. Instead of fighting her proctor, he’d used his therra to activate a series of semi-solid illusions from the room’s projector system. Two ogres, a pack of undead wolves, and a feral Minotaur wielding an axe as big as Ex’s, each illusion filled with low-tier Static Kinetic energy. With each false creature filled with the equivalent of a low-grade defensive shield, they had physical presence and moderate resistance to attacks. The illusions were also thoroughly programmed to respond to environmental alterations, like conjured rough terrain, bindings of magical or mundane means, and much more.
Vex had dropped one ogre as soon as the exam started, with Leech Fang round planted in the creature’s skull. While the illusion didn’t have blood or life force, a phantasm delicate of the hex round’s effects took hold. Bursting from the bullet wound were several scarlet tendrils lashing at the targets surrounding the still toppling corpse. Those tendrils, which normally would’ve been fueled by the victim's life force, struck out at several of the wolves, entangling them or killing them outright. Vex was a bit annoyed that the secondary effect of the Leech Fang rounds wouldn’t take effect since the bullet wasn’t truly triggered. "Should have remembered phantasms don't have blood to fuel the siphon," she muttered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Vex backpeddled as she tracked off another five shots. Two of those rounds dropped a pair of wolves, the third stuck the remaining ogre in the stomach, the fourth and fifth missed the mark, ricocheting off the floor and wall. The bullets that struck home erupting tendrils of blood red burst from the wounds to hinder and kill the surrounding illusion creatures. The wolf pack dropped within moments, the ogre thrashed against the tendrils that bound it, and slowly devoured it.
The boss of the fight, the Minotaur, charged her while she was reloading her sidearm. Vex pulled a quick-load cylinder from a pocket with her free hand before rolling under a heavy swing from the boss’s axe. She lunged to her feet right out of the roll and sprinted away while she reloaded her hexgun. The Minotaur spun to follow her before breaking into a charge that would’ve been thundering if it had more mass.
Vex cracked off two shots at the struggling ogre, still struggling with the last round she’d planted in it. The first round struck the illusion in the chest, its image stuttered, then shattered at the second shot. The boss closed the distance in seconds, but Vex was ready. She brought her gun to bear when the illusion was only a half-dozen paces away. She fired the last four shots into the boss’s chest, shattering it just before the creature gored her with its horns.
Vex slowly stood, checking her surroundings as Tolke walked towards her, clapping. “That was awesome. What were those last shots?”
Vex cracked open her weapon and ejected the spent casings before reloading it again and holstering it. “Spell Cracker Rounds.” She said simply. “Did you give me a dumbed-down test? That felt too easy.”
“What?! No.” Tolke looked away, his tone clearly telling his lie.
Vex didn’t like that. The test was too simple. The opponents were too slow and too stupid. She hadn’t earned the rank up. It had been handed to her.
It hadn’t been thirty minutes since Vex had entered the Bureau office, and she was already more than ready to leave. She stood at the entrance to a massive metal-walled arena. She was waiting for her turn to show her stuff to this clearly newby proctor. At that moment, an Orc with the Jager class was clashing blades with his own proctor.
Her proctor was a Star Elf man of maybe seventy years of age, meaning he was in the Human age window of about his mid-twenties. But it was always hard to tell with Elves with their timeless faces. His name was Tolke, and he kept making these nervous actions, touching his over-gelled lavender hair, scratching his pale pink skin, and fidgeting with his hex weapon, a large dagger with intricate hex-work and a large pink-red gem set into the guard. Worst of all, Tolke kept giving Vex furtive glances, like he wanted to say something.
Vex took a slow breath, smoothed the few wrinkles from her coat, and allowed a predatory, but practiced, smile to soften the edges of her face. Vex didn’t have time for the boy’s crush on her. He may have had several decades on her, but he was still a kid to Vex, even if he was a gold journeyman rank. Vex had no interest in trying a fling relationship with the first guy who hit on her. She’d always been of the mind that if she was meant for love, it would find her when she was ready. And with this new job, she was far from ready for another drastic life change.
However, Faith had given Vex explicit instructions to flirt with the proctor to gain his favor. She didn’t feel comfortable cheating to get where she needed to be. Vex didn’t like it, but she couldn’t disregard an instruction from her new boss on her third day on the job. Vex hated having authority figures looming over her with commands and demands in equal measure. Faith might not have made any demands yet, but she twisted Vex’s arm to get her under the Immortal’s thumb. But Vex needed the Omens. She needed her curse gone. She needed not to have voices screaming in her ears whenever she passed somewhere some poor luck bastard died with stains on their soul.
“So…” Vex started, causing Tolke to jump a little in surprise. “That’s a nice-looking hex weapon. What’s it enchanted with?”
“Oh! Um…” Tolke stumbled over his response. “Nothing too fancy. Just a few Hexxen Brands like Resonance Breaker, Spell Counter, and Shackle-Stone Grip.” He unsheathed his dagger and deftly twirled it around his fingers in practiced motions. “What about you? You’ve got a Hexgun, right?”
“Yeah,” Vex said. “It works different from melee weapons, like yours. I need to enchant individual rounds with brands. I use Shackle-Stone Rounds, Leech Fang Rounds, and Spell Cracker Rounds right now. Like you, nothing fancy. What about the rest of your Hextech gear?”
Tolke rolled his eyes. “I’m no good at building the things, and need crafters to slap the dumb things together. To top it off, my patron has given me crumbs for designs beyond my spell focus.” He held up his dagger by the point to emphasize his words.
“Speaking of, who’s your patron?” Vex asked.
Tolke blew out an irritated breath. “A dead guy who goes by The Grave Keeper,” he said the title with a falsely dramatic voice like some old-age horror movie narrator. “The guy is a copper-pincher of the grumpiest kind. You?”
Vex rolled her tongue piercing around her mouth in thought. How much should she tell him? Normally, asking a Hexxen Bane about their patron was bad manners, but Tolke seemed eager to talk to her. She decided that she could share a bit, but not everything. “Not far from your situation. I’m tied to a dusty Immortal gunsmith Dwarf. He’s… got some odd quirks. I’m pretty sure he’s insane.”
Tolke let out a barking laugh. “I think any patron in our line of work is at least a little crazy. I mean, what sane person has that much power AND gives out pacts like candy?”
Vex snorted. “I think you have a point.” She had his interest. Now she just needed the hook to catch him. “Say, after this, you want to go catch a quick munch?”
“Yeah!” Tolke half shouted in eager excitement. “I know where to find a Beefy Boy Burger Shack nearby that sells pretty good stuff.”
Vex had him now. Tolke would pass her just to make sure he’d get that meal with her. She felt a bit sick at the manipulative act. She had half a mind to stand him up after the test. She had places to be and Omens to hunt after all. But leaving poor Tolke to eat a lonely burger was a hard and somewhat sharp mental image. Vex had been used and manipulated plenty of times. It never got any better being to one whose strings were pulled only to drop when you turned to ask for help and support.
When Vex’s turn came for her exam, the test was easy and quick. Instead of fighting her proctor, he’d used his therra to activate a series of semi-solid illusions from the room’s projector system. Two ogres, a pack of undead wolves, and a feral Minotaur wielding an axe as big as Ex’s, each illusion filled with low-tier Static Kinetic energy. With each false creature filled with the equivalent of a low-grade defensive shield, they had physical presence and moderate resistance to attacks. The illusions were also thoroughly programmed to respond to environmental alterations, like conjured rough terrain, bindings of magical or mundane means, and much more.
Vex had dropped one ogre as soon as the exam started, with Leech Fang round planted in the creature’s skull. While the illusion didn’t have blood or life force, a phantasm delicate of the hex round’s effects took hold. Bursting from the bullet wound were several scarlet tendrils lashing at the targets surrounding the still toppling corpse. Those tendrils, which normally would’ve been fueled by the victim's life force, struck out at several of the wolves, entangling them or killing them outright. Vex was a bit annoyed that the secondary effect of the Leech Fang rounds wouldn’t take effect since the bullet wasn’t truly triggered. "Should have remembered phantasms don't have blood to fuel the siphon," she muttered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Vex backpeddled as she tracked off another five shots. Two of those rounds dropped a pair of wolves, the third stuck the remaining ogre in the stomach, the fourth and fifth missed the mark, ricocheting off the floor and wall. The bullets that struck home erupting tendrils of blood red burst from the wounds to hinder and kill the surrounding illusion creatures. The wolf pack dropped within moments, the ogre thrashed against the tendrils that bound it, and slowly devoured it.
The boss of the fight, the Minotaur, charged her while she was reloading her sidearm. Vex pulled a quick-load cylinder from a pocket with her free hand before rolling under a heavy swing from the boss’s axe. She lunged to her feet right out of the roll and sprinted away while she reloaded her hexgun. The Minotaur spun to follow her before breaking into a charge that would’ve been thundering if it had more mass.
Vex cracked off two shots at the struggling ogre, still struggling with the last round she’d planted in it. The first round struck the illusion in the chest, its image stuttered, then shattered at the second shot. The boss closed the distance in seconds, but Vex was ready. She brought her gun to bear when the illusion was only a half-dozen paces away. She fired the last four shots into the boss’s chest, shattering it just before the creature gored her with its horns.
Vex slowly stood, checking her surroundings as Tolke walked towards her, clapping. “That was awesome. What were those last shots?”
Vex cracked open her weapon and ejected the spent casings before reloading it again and holstering it. “Spell Cracker Rounds.” She said simply. “Did you give me a dumbed-down test? That felt too easy.”
“What?! No.” Tolke looked away, his tone clearly telling his lie.
Vex didn’t like that. The test was too simple. The opponents were too slow and too stupid. She hadn’t earned the rank up. It had been handed to her.
