Mary rolled her eyes and remained standing in line. How it was people like James would constantly pander to her and think it got them anywhere she’d never understand. She wasn’t some delicate woman, she had her combat class unlocked and leveled higher than most of her peers of a similar age. Luckily, the line wasn’t very long

  The Dungeon entrance was less congested than a normal day, which was sort of to be expected for a couple reasons. Calling it the Dungeon entrance was a little deceptive, because it implied that there was only a single entrance when there were, in reality, nine of them spread out in a perfect circle around the Nexus. Mentally, Merrick had tagged this entrance with a capital ‘The’ in his thoughts due to the fact that it was the most suitable for non-Delvers to enter, with most of the surrounding areas having less combat and lower counts for the swarms when combat was included.

  Usually, Merrick could expect to queue up for over an hour since it was rare to ever see less than six parties waiting to delve.

  “Hey, where is everyone today?” James struck up conversation with one of the guards nearby, who quickly confirmed Merrick’s theories on the lack of people in line.

  “‘S the apogee tomorrow. With magicka at an extreme high in the dungeon, the monster spawns increase dramatically. Wouldn’t expect the Noobhole to be crowded for the next couple months, really. Anyone willing to deal with that level of difficulty would be off to a different entrance. Better rewards, and all that.” The guard picked at his teeth with a piece of wood as he explained the obvious to James.

  A few minutes later the dungeon’s entrance shimmered lightly, indicating that the it would now lead to a different area of the dungeon than the previous party had gone through. The brass colored arch that made up the dungeon entrance was able to accomplish moving the entrance every 3 to 10 minutes without having a discernible pattern of location. It was rare for separate parties to run into each other in the early floors for that reason, it somehow always separated them greatly.

  It was just as well, most people who came to this entrance were people like Merrick, just out to scavenge a few bits of raw material and go about their day. Very few full time delvers, or other combat oriented professions for that matter, would bother coming to the ‘Noobhole’, as the guard so eloquently put it. Outside of training the new generation of youth and helping them acquire their starter skills, they’d be much better off going to some of the other eight arches.

  Soon enough they were next in line to go in and the guard had to give them the usual spiel.

  “Make sure you’re not trying to smuggle any living creatures out of the dungeon. Plants are fine, obviously, but bramblekin cannot be tamed. I don’t care how cute they are, they’re feral,” the middle age man shot a look to Mary, obviously judging her most like to ignore his words. Be that because she was a woman, or a druid, he had obviously seen his fair share of rule breakers that matched her description. He went on to give the rest of the spiel, basic safety and tax technicalities.

  “It is either 2 copper due now or 3 upon exit, dungeon goods of equal value accepted. Now, if you’ve got a combat class raise your hand so I can annotate that. Okay good, three out of four is good for this arch. Is anyone comfortable disclosing if they’ve got an innate skill? I know its private, but I’ve got to ask for the form.” Only James’ hand stayed up.

  “Combat related? No? That's fair, most of them aren’t. Okay, with all that out of the way, it should be your turn anytime soon.” Luckily for Merrick, Mary paid the guard out of her own purse. The Guard was more than happy to split the 2 copper change left over from the silver coin she’d given him with his fellow watchstander.

  Moments later, the arch shimmered again, a blueish color this time, and it was their turn to enter. The color of the shimmer didn’t have any noticeable impact on the landing zone, as the first room one was dropped into was called, but lots of people were superstitious about the colors anyways. Much like horoscopes, however, people were able to twist any color into whatever meaning they wanted.

  “I’m so tired of the non-blessed looking down on me just because my innate skill isn’t related to my class. It’s not like any of them are the second coming of Thaum or they wouldn’t be standing guard duty!” James kicked a rock shortly after they entered the first room. Merrick was still busy trying to get his ears to pop, made uncomfortable by the sudden change in atmosphere, to listen to the same rant he’d heard a few times already.

  Anyone who had ears and spent any time around the man knew that he’d gotten an innate skill related to wood working. Apparently, any product he made would scale in strength the longer he spent actively working on it. It was a fairly common innate skill and the church had many records on it, Merrick had previously looked into it. There were even legends that someone had once made a mythical weapon with the innate skill, the Sun Slaying Bow. Of course, on average it just made a table a little less likely to get stained, or a chair better able to hold up to a nobleman’s heft.

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  As far as Merrick knew, Rod did not have a blessing. Everything about the man’s stealth, archery, and general demeanor was learned behavior. Not a surprising result, considering his work ethic and pedigree. He couldn’t help but think he’d rather have a single Rod than three James by his side in any battle. The guards could likely wipe the floor with James too, innate skills did not dictate if someone was destined for greatness.

  As for Mary, nobody really knew if she had an Innate skill or not. Although her father was a well known local, her mother was from a different stronghold and had raised Mary for the most part. By the time she’d been sent to Steelhearth, she’d already conducted her Draw ceremony, and she’d never outright denied or confirmed having an Innate skill.

  “They’ll see, when I fletch the next Sun Slaying Bow and trade it for a Legendary blade they’ll understand that even noncombat innates set us apart from the pack. I’m sure I’m onto something here, I just need your help with my project Mary. I’ll even fletch you an amazing battlestaff. They’ll all stop calling me the ‘Knight of broken branches’ then,”

  James was convinced that his blessing did more than people realized. That time spent tending a seed into a sapling, and then a tree would count toward his blessing’s scaling strength. Even if it took years for the tree to grow, he was determined to prove the legend true. Unfortunately, his aversion to the bow meant he’d been the target of ridicule amongst certain circles. It was apparently ill-adviced to buy arrows from someone who wouldn’t even shoot their own product, some woodsman’s superstition or another.

  “What’s wrong with the Cobaltbranch staff my father gifted her?” Rod asked with a scowl on his face. His eyes darted around the room they’d arrived in. Although the landing zone was generally safe, rules went out the window when the magicka levels in the dungeon were raised so high.

  “Apart from the fact that he had to strip all of the metal out of it to prevent it from interfering with her druid spells?” James retorted with a roll of his eyes.

  “Uncle Will didn’t strip any metal out of my staff. The entire growth was metal free because it was an Yin-Yang Aberrant. The Cobalt metal was concentrated on one half of the tree and the magical properties on the other. You should be able to tell from looking at Rod’s bow.” Mary huffed. She was knelt down with her eyes closed and one hand pushed to the ground. Her sensory spells weren’t able to perfectly penetrate the dungeon’s flora, but she was still able to check for life in the next few rooms. “We’re clear by the way.”

  “I know that's what he said, Mary, but I can tell you right now that if there was a Yin-Yang Cobaltbranch tree harvested near Steelhearth in the last decade my master would have gotten his hands on at least some of the lumber. He's one of the top 5 bowyer in Steelhearth!” James made his way over to the thickets that surrounded the group and started looking for lengths of wood that were straight enough to force into wood.

  “Have you forgotten that Rod’s father is literally one of the best Rangers in the surrounding area? He's run more search and rescue missions in the wilds than every ranger who's ever wasted-” Rod put his hand on Mary’s shoulder and shook his head to let her know to drop the subject.

  James had been prejudiced towards Rod and his father for both being ‘Unblessed’. The fact that Rod was an outstanding member of their generation without having an Innate Skill and his apparent closeness with the target of James’ affection was reason enough for them to butt heads.

  “Whatever, you’ll all see when I complete my magnum opus. My name will go down in legend as the creator of the second ever human crafted siege bow and we’ll be able to turn the tides on all the Kin,” James tossed another branch off to the side with a scowl on his face. The dungeon, known as the Mulberry Grove, was not very good for collecting quality fletching wood. It was almost entirely berry brambles, made of wood that was far too flexible and thin to make a good arrow shaft. Plus the berries constantly stained his fingers.

  The group got a little somber and sunk into silence at the mention of Kin, the collective name for the sapient races who were responsible for pushing humanity into hiding behind their walls in a handful of Strongholds. Every few years there was news of another of the outer-ring Strongholds falling to their enemy and it was a never ending uphill battle to protect what they had. Luckily, Steelhearth was in the inner ring and located very far from the frontier. The kingdom hadn’t lost an inner ring Stronghold in decades.

  Clink! Clink!

  A noise rang out through the room, causing Mary, Rod, and James to snap their attention over to Merrick.

  He’d been silently inspecting their landing zone while the other three argued. The group had been dropped into a room that was about 30 feet wide and 9 feet tall, roughly oval shaped. The walls were mostly covered with honeysuckle vines and the ground was coated in blackberry brambles, thickest nearest to the walls. Behind them was a staircase leading up into the mist, he knew ascending the stairs would take them to one of the many exit archways.

  While they were arguing, Merrick managed to collect a handful of mostly-ripe black berries. He was careful not to eat any, as snacking while he worked was his usual habit. He still had a portal to catch the next day and was supposed to be fasting. Instead he packed them away and managed to see a thin vein of metallic ore while doing so.

  The clicking was the sound of him accidentally pining against the metallic vein with his hand pick, rather than the stone around it as was his attention. He cursed his clumsiness as his ears started ringing so soon after finally adjusting to the dungeon’s pressure. He then shot a glance over his shoulder, hoping nobody had noticed his folly, only to make eye contact with the rest of the room.

  “I, uh, need some powdered ores for a brew. A bug crawled on my neck and it startled me, that's why my strike missed. No other reason.” Merrick swore to himself, he’d get a mining skill soon to help guide his swings as his neck turned red in embarrassment. Oh well, he’d blame the color on a bug too if anybody asked.