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Welcome to this side-story of The Little Dungeon That Could. This will be a one-shot.
Here’ll we’ll test some new mechanics that we might be able to introduce into The Little Dungeon afterwards.
Keep in mind that I might update the mechanics are we are working our way through the quest, the purpose of this thread, other than to entertain, is to close it out with proper system of mechanics.

I hope I don’t have to change the mechanics, but I might.
Just mentioning that for people who hate that sorta thing.

What we will be testing in the one-shot

- Limited equipment system
- Explicit ranking system for items and skills (Similar to games like World of Warcraft)
- Alternate combat system
- Slight change to the writing format

The New Combat System

- Is based on things like Darkest Dungeon, Pokémon, Fire Emblem, Octopath Traveller, Dragon Quest
- Will NOT include movement
- Will involve rolls for both sides, though dungeon monster rolls are done by the QM in bulk to keep things moving along.
- Will use D100s and a "Dice stack" mechanic instead of advantage / disadvantage
- Has no "Classes" just like "The Little Dungeon", your "role" in a party is a result of the equipment, statistics, and skills/spells you have
- Will include rounds and turns similar to D&D. With turn order being decided by statistics and skills.
- Will retain "Essence" based casting system and "Per invasion / Per room" mechanics.
- The goal is simplicity


>Health - Flat stat gained by equipment. Allows you to take more damage before falling
>Essence - Used for spellcasting.
>Strength - Increases damage done when hitting an enemy with physical weapons
>Magic - Increases damage done when hitting an enemy with magic
>Accuracy - Increases hit chance for both magical and physical damage
>Defence - Physical resistance that attackers need to beat to hit with physical attacks
>Magic Resist - Magical Resistance that attackers need to beat to hit with magical attacks
>Speed - Determines “Turn Order” placement

All stats can be increased through equipment.
All rolls outside combat will be done using flat d100s.


The equipment system uses four (4) slots.
Where the "Armour" is essentially all body armour combined.
This will be your main way to increase your statistics.

Slots: Armour, Weapon (+shield), Amulet, and Ring

Dice stack
It's essentially an uncapped version of the "Advantage / Disadvantage" from D&D 5e.
Certain spells and abilities can simply grant you an additional d100. This can be done multiple times.
Positive and negative dice cancel each other out, but you keep going beyond that.

Let's say you get absolutely slathered with buffs and debuffs.
You get four (4) negative d100s
You get five (6) positive d100s
Then the final result is two (2) positive d100s.

You then roll the base 1d100 + 2d100 (buffs) and take the highest roll.

Combat Example

>Turn order based on Speed, highest to lowest
>Select target to attack with your sword. Roll d100 + Accuracy
>If it beats their "Defence" then you hit.
>Deal damage to their health
>Next turn

That’s it.

Character Death

Can happen. The death of the main character is not the end of the quest.
Dungeon clearing is done in groups. When the main character dies, we vote on the new main character from the pool of remaining party members.
If they all die, well that sucks. Depending on how far along in the quest we are we might just pick a new group.


There’s going to be a big introduction of the new setting and the main character.
However, I know that not everybody likes that, but I would still appreciate your help in fleshing out the system.

If you CTRL + F “SKIP TO HERE”, then you’ll find the post that’ll tell you everything you need know to start playing.

Thank you.
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All posts will be tied to this.
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“You’re a piece of trash, Arthur!” cried the haggard man from his knees, his body shielding the whimpering dog beneath him from further blows.

“I asked you five times to get the fucking thing away from me,” said Arthur Valra, scowling and wiping his boot on the barren ground.
The blood didn’t come off easy. It would be somewhat redeeming if we could say that he took no joy in it, but that would be a lie.
It was the kind of dog he hated most.

As far as Arthur was concerned, the city was better off if not a single mutt remained within its useless walls.
They were a hazard. Just sniffing? Right. It’s just curious, just sniffing, until it isn’t.
Arthur wasn’t about to risk getting bitten by something that spend all its timing licking its own balls and dining on barf.

Unfortunately, the city was crawling with them, but they were, somehow, not even half as bad as the rest of the filth that crawled within the city.
The irony of Whitewater’s walls was that it was safer outside than within them. If you could even call the ruined things walls at this point.

Arthur ran a hand through his black hair, “Just give me what I came for, will you?” he said.

The haggard man’s face hardened, “I can’t,” he said, “It’s gone!”

The leather-clad half-elf angled his face to the sky and boomed a sigh in annoyance, then turned his gaze back towards the man, “Will, come on. Just trying to do my job here,” said Arthur, “What did you think was gonna happen? You take a loan, you have to pay it back! Think ahead, will you?”

The man named Will turned his attention to his dog, gently stroking the fur of the creature breathing shallow, rapid breaths.
The movement caused his thinning hair which he had teased over his dome to slide forward, covering his forehead. “I can’t spend any thoughts on the future,” said Will, “Not in this godforsaken place. I’m just trying to get by.”

Arthur squatted down, looking Will in the face, “Look, I don’t care,” he said, “You think you’re the first? Every single idiot that borrows money ends up buying food with it. The guy you borrowed the money from is the same guy selling you the food, by the way. It’s all fucked.”

He began fidgeting with his ear cuff, the small golden cylinder running across the length of his ear, rolling it between his fingers.
Arthur owed these people nothing and he knew it. He knew it. There’s no place for empathy in Whitewater, you have to put yourself first.
His fingers stopped rolling the ear cuff after he had done so six times, then thought about what would happen to himself if he returned with nothing at all.
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He had return with something. Arthur knew what he had to say, but couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Off in the distance a mangy dog scratched at the dry, barren ground with a paw.
“Man,” he began, postponing the painful for as long as he could. He couldn’t do it.
“You have to give me something,” he said instead, knowing full well that the man had nothing to give.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Each of them fully aware of the unspoken message.

There really wasn’t anything Arthur could say that would make it better, but he tried anyway, “Look, they’ll just starve if you keep them all. Surely, doing away with even on--,” he said, but was unable to finish his sentence on account of a sizeable rock hitting him in the back.
Arthur wobbled forward like a puppet dangling at the end of its strings, hands questing for the painful spot on his back.
He looked over his shoulder to see a small boy with fury in his eyes being held back by his mother, who was pale with fright in the knowledge of what her son had just done.
A small group of children crowded behind her.

Will, the father, had his mouth drop wide open, his face slowly turning from his son to Arthur.

Here he was again: forced to play the bad guy. Fuck it. Let somebody else take care of it.
Arthur took a deep breath and turned towards Will, “It won’t be me next time,” he said, then turned to leave.


Hands in his pockets and kicking a pebble down the road, Arthur was thinking of what to say once he had to face Sylas Agnet, one of the pieces of vermin masquerading as a council member.
He glanced left and right, staring at the ruins around him, as he walked along.

Whitewater, sitting beside a river and resting near the foot of a mountain called the Tidestone, was once a place of songs and grandeur.
Its river festivals were the stuff of legend, and it was the jewel in the crown of the empire, but those days are a distant memory.
Only the bones of Whitewater remain, mute witnesses to its fall from grace.
Though it hadn’t been called Whitewater back then, it had some fancier name – something very pretentious.

Arthur nodded at the thug pretending to be a guard as he walked through the gate, leaving the slums behind.
The slums, known as the Barrens, themselves weren’t patrolled, but their entrances and exists certainly were.
Calling them slums might make one think that the remainder of the city was in a somewhat better shape – it wasn’t.

All over, the once jaw-dropping buildings were a shell of their former selves, the city had neither the time, money, skill, or desire to fix things up.
All five districts, from the Barrens to the Boilers – decrepit. It was a city filled with squatters.

Hadn’t always been that way, of course, but half a decade ago some group decided to mess the place up , they went above and beyond.
Thousands of people died, but that all happened before Arthur had moved here so he didn’t care much.
Not only had this group done a number on the city and infrastructure, they also decided to crack open the dam high up on the mountain.

Using their absurd magic, they destroyed the ancient dam high up in the mountains. Now the river descending from the mountain rushes in unbound and primal.
The unrelenting torrent scratches against cliff faces and tumbles over rocks, turning the water a foamy-white as it is swept along the rapids – granting it the name: Whitewater.

Overnight, trade stopped. The current of the Whitewater river is so ferocious not even the sturdiest of ships have a chance to traverse the waters.
Carts push their way up the slopes of the mountain from time to time, but there are nowhere near enough to feed its population.
Well, for now, anyway. Numbers are dwindling by the way. Add in an on-going epidemic and, surely, you had a little piece of heaven?

How Arthur wished he could leave. He never would’ve moved here if he had had anything to say about it.
Duskmire, the neighbouring city some eighty miles out, was a dump, yes, but it was still better than this place.
He remembered it fondly.


Eventually, he arrived outside Council Member Agnet’s mansion. Well, mansion. It was a big place, sure.
However, half the columns in front were missing, not a single glass window remained, and in their place they had hung massive drapes, carpets, and thick linen bedsheets.
More like an adult’s attempt at a pillow fort. Though the massive amphitheatre standing beside it was quite impressive.
The city was full of places like it.

It was sometimes hard to believe the city had been so prosperous that people couldn’t fill their days by just solving their problems.
They must’ve considered boredom a crime because the city was filled with places for entertainment.
From tall halls serving as museums to gladiatorial arenas and amphitheatres. Families live there now and the museums were looted long ago.

Arthur idled outside, back pressed against the wall, thinking how he was gonna bring the news.
He absent-mindedly began to unsheathe and sheath his short sword a tiny bit. There was no real purpose to it, he just liked the sound it made.
It helped him focus. Some people tap their feet, Arthur did this. He had been made fun off on account of it at times.
He didn’t care. Clack. Clack. Eight times total. Good. Now he could move on.

No, wait. He still had some thinking to do. Ah, man. No good.
He was probably gonna get his shit kicked in by some new half-giant with fists the size of boulders.
He could already taste the blood in his mouth and smell its awful iron stench.
There was the sound of Dogs barking. Arthur looked around and saw nothing, he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind.
The stench remained.

His employer, Sylas, was a first-rate bastard. Lending out money to folks he knew that couldn’t pay it back, just to send his lackies after them the next week.
Fresh stock. Prime entertainment. Amphitheatre filled to the brim with jerk-offs all too eager to lick the sand from Sylas’s boots.
Sylas and the five folk like him called themselves council members, but they were nothing more than a gathering of crime lords.
Moneylender Sylas retrieved what was due – one way or another.

Dawnmaiden’s tits, the stench was bad. Arthur wrinkled his nose, must’ve been a private show – beaten bloody somewhere in the mansion.
Sucks to be that guy, but at least beatings like this put Sylas in a good mood.

Taking a breath, Arthur just decided to get it over with and went inside.
Large, marble pillars lined the first room, to provide the place some measure of stability.
All equally spaced out and perfect, save for the few that a couple of chunks nicked out of them when some cannot-pay had been slammed against them.
Sunlight rained down through the square opening in the centre of the room, warming some destroyed furniture.

Nobody here. Chairs and tables lay toppled all over. Arthur frowned and unsheathed his sword, holding it low at his side as he crept further into the mansion.
On second glance, he could see streaks of crimson coating the toppled furniture.
A fight had broken out here. Perhaps some extended family members ambushed the place, to fight against the doomed fate of their relative?
That had happened before, but they usually didn’t stand much of a chance.
He carefully made his way through the room, saw some coins on the ground inside pool of blood, their glint covered under a red coating, then pocketed them.

Three gold coins and some clippings, half-coins and quarter-coins, not bad.
His survival instincts screamed at him for lowering his guard like that, but his mind chimed in that sudden unemployment was a very real possibility right now.
Further investigation of the mansion’s first floor revealed nothing.
Arthur had checked the underneath the bookshelves where valuable things like jewellery had been kept, but it had been emptied out.
He clenched his teeth, that would’ve been quite a haul. Not that he had anyone to sell it to, but still.

His survival instincts sat muttering the corner, twitching at the idea of somebody just lying flat on their stomach as they look underneath a bookshelf at the site of what is probably a massacre.

Arthur stood at the bottom of a stone staircase, looking up and twirling his sword in his hand.
He wasn’t as strong as he had once been, a diet of stale water and dry, flat bread will do that, but he was still fast.
If he could get up unnoticed, he was confident he could get the first blow.
One measured step after the other, he made his way up the staircase in complete silence. The smell of blood became more overpowering by the step.
Once he got high enough, he peeked over the final steps of the staircase and knew at once that he better start polishing up his resume.
Save for maybe the lucky few, like Arthur, who hadn’t been here, the entirety of Sylas Agnet’s crew lay splayed out on the white flagstones of the mansion.
Side-by-side. Like meat on display in a butcher’s shop.

Arthur had a careful look before entering, but it seemed like whoever had done this had since departed.
The bodies has been picked clean of anything valuable.
At the far end of the row of bodies was a man in his early fifties, his face lined with cuts, and still-wet blood, drippled from his mouth, coated his salt-and-pepper beard.
They had even taken Sylas’s ornate belt-buckle. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Not all of them had been bad. Well, that was a lie. Crooks and scoundrels, the lot of them, but still.
Arthur hadn’t been exactly proud of his line of work, but you took what you could get in a city like this.
He hadn’t been alone in this way of thinking. The ranks of Sylas’s forces contained many men who extorted folks during the day and then went home to the loving family they were supporting.
Proper folk you could have a drink with – just not during business hours.

Some strange symbol had been carved into Sylas’s forehead. It wasn’t any that Arthur recognized, so not one of the other 'council members'.
It was rather simplistic in its design: some kind of barren tree. Just what Whitewater needed. Some yuppy upstart gunning for another turf war.
“Goodbye, you old bastard,” said Arthur as he looked down at Sylas.


Arthur roamed the second floor for a short while and pulled down a thick, linen blanket with the least blood on it that had been covering one of the windows.
He rolled it up and swung it over his shoulder. The days are hot now, but won’t be for long.
It can get icy cold here in the mountains and he knew he could get some good use out of the blanket.

There’s nothing for him here in the city now, probably best to find a place outside the walls.
That’s where the holy men and woman of the Dawnmaiden see to those suffering from the diseases brought on by the epidemic, but it was probably still saver than staying in the city with a group of killers that might be eager to finish the job.

There was one last stop he had to make before that though.
Hell, it was practically on the way. Only a slight detour. Maybe thirty minutes.
Arthur realised he wasn’t thinking straight. He simply didn’t want to be alone right now.


Once again, Arthur found himself in the Barrens – his rolled-up, linen blanket swung over his shoulder.

Before him stood Will, the badly-balding man and father of the small girl beside him – and the three other standing some distance away.
How do you manage to have four children in a shithole like Whitewater?

The girl standing beside Will was reed-thin and shivering.
Some small effort had been made to make her look presentable, but it was like prettying up a corpse.
The mother’s wailing thundered through the glass-less windows from somewhere deep inside the building serving as their home.
The family couldn’t keep all of them fed and they knew it.

The victim: a small girl that would live forevermore with the knowledge she’d been cast aside.

And here Arthur was thinking he’d, for once, be bringing happy news.

The father put a hand on the thin girl’s shoulder, squeezing gently.
Looking up, the girl understood and tried to stop shivering, but was unable to keep her lower lip from cooperating.

Will looked up at Arthur, “I thought you said they would send somebody else.”

Arthur stood before them, staring blankly. His mind was a blur. He hadn’t even figured out what he was going to do next.
He fidgeted with his ear cuff. Six times. There was no need to extend the family’s heartbreak.
“Your debt is gone,” said Arthur in dead tones, “It’s all gone.”

The father’s eyes widened, his mouth opened and closed, mind struggling to put together a sentence.

Arthur answered the unspoken question, “Why? They’re all dead,” he said, “Turf war, I think. Some new group, maybe. I don’t recognize the symbol they left. There’s nobody to pay your loan back to.”

Some child ran inside and went screaming for their mother, she came rushing out and basically slid the final distance across the barren ground peppered with tiny stones on her knees, embracing the small girl with mighty sobs. The father did likewise, his knees buckled and he simply took his wife and child in a mighty hug.
Finally catching on that the time to be brave had come and gone, the thin girl between them unleashed the waterworks.
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Arthur watched the display without any real emotion whatsoever.
Barely an hour ago he had told the father he hadn’t cared about their suffering.
Now their roles were entirely reversed.
The father probably had a pantry full of food bought using their loan while Arthur had no idea where his next meal was coming from.
Dammit, he had people to support, too.

Somewhere deep down a tiny spark of humanity told him that he should be happy for the family.
But he couldn’t manage it. His own problems weighed down on him like an anvil.
Arthur simply turned and walked, then kept walking, until he left the barrens, and then the city itself, behind.
He had somewhere he wanted to be.


“Don’t forget your cloth,” said the priestess, handing him a piece of white cloth. With her hood up and the cloth in front of her mouth, only the priestess’s blue eyes were visible.

“Much appreciated,” said Arthur, pocketing the cloth with the hand not holding the linen blanket over his shoulder.

The priestess rolled her eyes at him, but said nothing.

He knew full well that wearing the cloth in front of his mouth was the proper thing to do, but he wasn’t about to do that to the poor girl who’s tent he was walking towards.
She probably saw nothing but robes and face-masks. A friendly face would probably do her some good, even if the face was that of Arthur.

Crouching down, Arthur opened the flap of the small tent.
Wide-eyed, the girl inside started, shoulders and threadbare blanket raised up, then slowly lowered them, “Arthur,” she said.
The blonde girl had the general disposition of a field mouse and was scarred on more places then not.

“Got you something,” said Arthur, lowering the linen blanket, then pulled away the threadbare one the girl had been using.

Arthur winced. Whatever disease she had was doing on a number on her, her legs were riddled with sores.
He probably shouldn’t stay in this tent for too long. “You seem to be doing better, Sylvie,” he lied, then unrolled the new, linen blanket and tucked her in.
She smiled as he did so.

“The sisters of the Dawnmaiden taught me a new hymn today,” Sylvie said with excitement lining her voice.

“That’s great,” replied Arthur, tugging at her pillow, “Head up.”

Sylvie raised her head, allowing Arthur to pick up and fluff the pillow before placing it back.

“Do you want to hear it?” she asked.

“No, that’s alright,” said Arthur with a dismissive wave, “It’s wasted on me.”
Although Arthur was grateful for the care the church provided, he was less happy about how they were constantly pushing their faith on his bed-ridden half-sister.
Yes, half-sister. They shared a piece-of-shit mother, an Elf, but had different human fathers.

Still, if the servants of the Dawnmaiden hadn’t been here then she would’ve already died after that pack of famished dogs had mauled her some months ago.
One moment they had been walking down a street in the Barrens, the next they were surrounded.
Arthur had told her to keep walking since they were just sniffing and curious, but something about Sylvie’s skittish behaviour had set them off.
All it took was for one of them to take the first bite, then they went into a frenzy – quickly pushing her to the ground as they tore into her flesh.

Seven of them dragging her all over the place while she lay there kicking and screaming.
A trial of blood followed their passage and barking filled the streets. The barking was a constant.
Arthur had done what he could, as fast as he could, but fighting off seven units of starving muscle was no easy feat.
Months of recovery later, she was covered in scars and had a sloping, useless shoulder.
They both gained a dislike for dogs, although they show it in different ways.

If only she had died, then I could’ve gotten out of this place. He paled at his own thoughts.
Arthur was a selfish bastard, he knew as much, but even he should have limits.

And now she had contracted this new disease. Yet another mutation in a long string of variations.
The church must wonder if there was ever going to be an end to this epidemic.
Nevertheless, the church’s presence had been a great boon to the community and their numbers had bolstered for it, many citizens – now aimless and without prospects – had decided to become a part of the Dawnmaiden’s members.
Arthur wasn’t a part of their numbers, but he had a certain fondness for their slang and curse words that he had picked up here and there.

Truth be told, It wasn’t all that unexpected that Sylvie managed to contract the disease when cooped up in a camp full of folk who had it and attended by sisters who probably went from one tent to the next, but still – unlucky.
There seems to be a common phenomenon where, in any pair of siblings, one seems to have all the luck, while the other has none at all – Sylvie was clearly the unlucky one.
It was like they were living in a third-rate story where Sylvie’s sole reason for existence was to be pitied.

Arthur patted her on the shoulder, then, looking away, rolled his ear cuff between his fingers. Six times.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sylvie.

“Nothing,” said Arthur, “Just thinking.”
He stared into empty space for a moment longer, then spoke, “Focus on getting better. Then we can get out of here.”
Arthur got up and opened the tent-flap half-way when Sylvie spoke.

“Sister Ena said that I might be able to become of a member of the Dawnmaiden myself,” said Sylvie.

“I bet she did,” replied Arthur without looking back, then left and closed the tent flap behind him.

The encampment had been here for quite a while, but, aside from a handful of semi-permanent structures, there were mostly tents here.
Rows upon rows of tents set against the sloping hills near Tidestone, the mountain adjacent to Whitewater.
Arthur scanned the horizon before finally locating the priestess from earlier.

She was gazing to some far off spot in the distance.
Arthur dug in his pocket as he walked up beside her, palming the golden coins there – leaving the clippings for himself.

“What are you looking at?” he said as he stood beside her.

“Carts,” she said matter-of-factly and pointing them out, “There’s a bunch.”

Arthur followed the direction of her finger, “That’s good. Hopefully loaded with supplies.”
He turned to face her and held up the bloodied coins, “Here,” he said.

The priestess flinched at the sight, “Why is there blood on them?”

“Does it matter?” said Arthur, “Just take them.”

“I couldn’t,” said the priestess, holding up her hands as if to fend of the coins, “We do what we do as an holy act. We take no payment.”

Arthur sighed, “Dawnmaiden’s tits,” he said, “Are we going to do this song and dance every time? All this shit isn’t free. Faith is great, but it doesn’t feed my sister. Use the coins on those carts over there. Here, take it.”

The priestess took the bloodied coins, her eyes cast towards the ground, “Please don’t blaspheme,” she said in a small voice.

Arthur rolled his eyes at her and focused on the incoming train of carts.
They crept ever closer and closer, until the first few carts passed in front of him and the priestess.
Proudly displayed on the side of the carts was the symbol of the Delvers Guild.

The Delvers Guild was the organization in charge of exploring, cataloguing, managing, and breaking dungeons.
Managing dungeons was a business. Their rights belonged to whoever managed to conquer them and could then be sold along to the highest bidder.
Even if the heart of the dungeon, the core, was broken – it would still churn out resources which people could then go in and harvest endlessly.

Arms folded, Arthur watched the dozens of carts amble by, “What are they doing here?” he said towards the priestess.

“Haven’t you heard?” replied the priestess, “They’ve discovered a string of dungeons in the mountain.”

“What the fuck,” cried Arthur, throwing his hands wide, “When did that happen?”
He wondered if Sylas had known. “Man, they really don’t tell me anything,” said Arthur to himself.

Unfortunate that these dungeons were high up in the mountains somewhere -- a logistical nightmare.
It would be great if somebody discovered a dungeon in the middle of a city, but nobody had ever been that lucky.

“Hmm?” said the priestess, her blue eyes looked at him in question.

“Nevermind,” replied Arthur with a wave of the hand, “So, that’s what this all is for. Some giant expedition into the mountain?”

“Not quite,” said the priestess, moving the bloodied coins around in her hands, “They plan to form a Delvers Guild Headquarters here in Whitewater. I assume that they’ll start doing whatever it is a Delvers Guild does after that. Go to dungeons, I suppose.”

Arthur rolled his ear cuff between his fingers as he stared at the carts while they crept over the landscape.
Mappers. That’s where it starts. They’ll first need to explore these dungeons. That is if they haven’t done so already.
Wherever the dungeon is, it’s probably crawling with guards. Six times. He let go of the ear cuff.

Arthur turned towards the priestess again, “Does anyone know where these dungeons are?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes betraying the smile underneath the face-cloth, “That’s why they’re here, I imagine.”

Arthur gave her a look.

The priestess coughed into a fist, which did nothing as the face-cloth was in the way.
“I suppose they’ll keep it secret for a bit, wouldn’t they?” she said.

Arthur frowned. Mapped. Tagged. Bagged. Sold.
The people of Whitewater wouldn’t see a clipping.
These Delvers were little more than vultures come to pick the carcass clean.

Why anyone would risk their life to clear out a dungeon just so it can be sold off to some random twat who never left their mansion was absolutely beyond Arthur.


Things had moved quickly after that, the Delvers Guild had set up shop in mere days.
Rumour spread of these new dungeons and mercenaries, wizards, witches, druids, and all other kinds came from far and wide to enlist as a Delver.
Business was booming over in the Boilers, the crafting district, they had more orders for weapons, upkeep, and repairs then they had had in years.

It turned out there were at least seven surface-level dungeons.
How deep these went they didn’t know, mappers had only been able to go until the second level thus far.
The number of casualties among the Delvers Guild staff was already in the thirties, but this didn’t dampen people’s spirits in any way.
Those people had just been reckless, something like that wouldn’t happen to me. Right?

Today was the first day they were going to allow registered Delvers to enter the dungeon.

The Delvers Guild had assumed temporary ownership of the dungeons. Even they didn’t stand above the laws and regulations regarding dungeons and their acquisition.
They said these dungeons had to be carefully nurtured. You were free to clear the levels, but don’t try to break the dungeons just yet.
There was no reason to kill the golden goose before it could lay its eggs. Breaking a dungeon that was maybe two floors old was a huge pity as it would never grow again.
You’d be depriving yourself of a prospective third, fourth, or maybe even fifth floor with constant, renewable resources.
However, as the dungeon grew, so did its threat level – the whole practice was more or less like raising a man-eating tiger from infancy.

All-in-all, the arrival of the Delvers Guild had been a blessing.
The crime lords that had reigned the cities for years now had even been pushed back and were now lying low – not making any moves out of fear of being demolished by the Delvers Guild and their wealth of military resources.

Which is great. Everyone was happy. Well, everyone expect maybe one individual whose entire job history consisted of crookery, thieving, scamming, and continuous loitering.
People like that might be struggling. Which brings us to the following.


The haggard looking Arthur stared down at the bright-faced girl behind the counter, “Hello,” he said in mournful tones, “I would like to register as a Delver.”

The place was absolutely swamped. There were people everywhere. People of all races.
From half-orcs, to dwarves, to elves, half-elves, and even races originating from the Hollow – those usually don’t leave the vast network of tunnels located underneath the surface.

Before him stood a girl wearing the Delvers Guild uniform, which covered everything from feet to shoulder, though she had the upper three buttons of the blouse underneath her vest undone in an effort to combat the heat.
“Great!” said the girl, smiling brightly, “Have you decided what role you’d like to take on?”

Arthur gave her a stare, he hadn’t had a proper meal in a long while and didn’t have the energy for this, “I have a sword,” he said eventually.

“Fantastic!” cried the girl, “I see a 'Breaker' in you! Most people are. You simply deal with whatever dangers the dungeon throws at you. If you get some experience under your belt you might even qualify to be a Mapper.”

Arthur knew about those. Great Mappers were the stuff of legend.
Not every party had a Mapper, but Mappers created these lengthy guides on what to expect in a dungeon.
From traps to monstrous terrors, it was all in the guides.
Just make sure you had a recent one in case the dungeon decides to swap things around or add new monsters and rooms.

“Sounds swell,” said Arthur, noting the small symbol of a rising sun at the end of a chain around the girls neck, “I thought the Dawnmaiden was more of a local religion. You’re not from around, right?”

She followed his gaze and paused briefly, then closed two of the upper buttons of her blouse. Arthur hadn’t been looking, but okay.
”Gosh,” she said, “I know, they’re like vested on the other side of the mountain, right? I didn’t think myself very religious, but they do so much good here? Don’t they? They really spoke to me. Though I don’t wanna be a sister or anything, I hear they have to be celibate.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling into a smile.

She stared at him for a moment, then blushed as she realized what she had said, eyes downcast.
She picked up some piece of parchment and slid it across the counter towards Arthur, putting a quill and inkpot beside it.
”I’ll be right back,” she said to her feet, “Fill in the form and my co-worker will help you afterwards.”

This had probably been some form of sexual harassment. Not that Arthur cared much.

Arthur shrugged and took the parchment with him, then found a place to sit.
”Dawnmaiden’s tits,” he said to himself as he read the parchment.
It wasn’t just some registration form. It was a contract. Not just any contract either, but a blood-bound one.
There was a small square at the bottom where he was supposed to drip some of his blood. A magical contract.

He decided to read over the fine print. Arthur blinked.
This was basically servitude. He ran his hand through his black hair and sighed.
His stomach rumbled to remind him why he was here in the first place.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he began filling in the form.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see what the rest of the people here were doing.
A good chunk of them had some Delver Guild staff member looking over their shoulder, they probably couldn’t read or write.
Fortunately, Arthur did know how to read and write. It was one of the few worthwhile things his mother had done for him, educating him in the use of letters.
To bad any points she had built up doing that were crushed under the weight of her deciding she could do better and two-timing on Arthur’s dad with Sylvie’s one.
Such things never last, she eventually she had to choose. Tough choice.
Arthur’s dad had been a delver, so was ripped, but Sylvie’s dad had a beer gut and a pile of money.
She picked the money.

Arthur’s dad wasn’t a bad person or anything, good morals and all that, but life had just worn him down like a grindstone.
He eventually hit that tender middle-age where they just stopped caring and, slowly, but surely, slid down and got involved with increasingly worse crowds.
Of course, that slow descent happened after the whole affair business came to light, so Arthur, being the adult that he is, blamed his mom for all of it.

Arthur’s dad took the perfect moment to become an unfit parent, filling his days muttering things like ‘How the hell did she hide the pregnancy…’, so that when Arthur’s mom, Calena, decided to move to Whitewater along with Sylvie’s father for the ‘riveting business opportunity of a lifetime’ – Arthur had little choice but to follow along.
Too bad Sylvie’s dad ended up dead in a gutter barely two weeks in because he had decided to compete with crime lords.

“Finally,” said Arthur as he finished filling out the form, though he wasn’t gonna drip blood onto the contract until he knew the parchment was somewhere safe.
These contracts turn into magical circles that are imprinted on the body, after all. He wasn’t entirely sure how they worked, but he wasn’t gonna take any chances.

Shouldering his way through the mass of people, Arthur returned to the counter and handed his form to a different staff member, some dwarven woman.
She took it to some office out of sight. Arthur began to roll his ear cuff between his fingers. Six times.

The woman returned a short while later, holding up the form, “You forgot something,” she said.

“I didn’t forget,” replied Arthur.

A tired look crept onto the staff member’s face, “One of those, huh,” she said, “Very well. Come along.”

A rare smile graced Arthur’s face, he knew he had made the right decision. Straight to the big boss to personally finalize the contract.
The dwarf led him down a series of corridors until finally she gestured towards a final bend.

“Take your form to the office around the corner,” she said, then walked back the way she came.

Arthur rounded the corner and was greeted by a line of roughly fifty people. He groaned and got in the back of the line.

The half-orc at the tail-end of the queue turned around to greet him, “You made the right decision, pal. They’re not gonna take OUR blood and run of to who the hell knows where with it. I bet it ends up in the registers of the nobles. Just passed along government branches and used in magical experiments and contracts. I heard they use it so soul-bind people into birds and force them into a decade of service. Mostly pigeons. All pigeons are government agents.”

Arthur nodded politely until the man turned back around.
”Dawnmaiden's tits,” he hissed under his breath.



Four hours of waiting later, Arthur had finally finalized his contract in the privacy of the local guild master’s office.
Afterwards the contract had been pressed to the back of his hand and a magical circle had formed there.
Other than the contract itself, the magical circle contained some minor form of illusion magic that visualized Arthur’s general information and rank within the Delvers guild.
He was told some kind of physical badge or emblem denoting his rank was forthcoming, but there had been so many new Delvers at this location that they had simply run out.

The ranks, in order from weakest to greatest, were as followed: bronze, silver, gold, platinum, and diamond – padded with numbers ranging from one to five.
An example being: “Bronze IV”. Arthur’s rank was, unsurprisingly, Bronze I. The lowest possible rank.

It was not even afternoon at this point, so there were plenty hours left in the to take on one of the dungeons even if you took into the account the three hour hike up the steep mountain.
He checked the rosters, there was no group registered for the next slot in the Fifth Dungeon, whose first floor was populated by spider-like creatures.

Arthur dreaded the idea of entrusting his life to some random folks he had never met before, but even that was still better than going by yourself or the alternative: sitting here and starve.

Party creation

>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
"Just write a book, cunt."
JK, glad the thread is up, see you tomorrow once I read everything
>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
Damn, surprising amount of effort for a one-shot. Good work QM
>>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
Just write a book, cunt.
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
I'm not fussy with our group, we will figure it out anyway.

>bloodbound contract for joining the delver's league
Eustacia might struggle to join them.
Though if its possible for us to remove a brand off of her with the branding chamber, then it might not be a problem. Might even be good camouflage, as no one will suspect someone under contract would be up to anything fishy.
Hell, even if she dies for breaking the contract, she might just respawn. We will have to see.
>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
Just write a book, cunt
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
I dont know ANYBODY well enough to make our own team.
that does sound like a big problem. I'd assume they would also find out if the contract were broken. Then again, the Blackwoods haven't done shit when we destroyed Grez's contract, that was all Ben. We'll just have to wait and see when the time comes.
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
We don't know anyone else, but we know that there are plenty of dead Delvers on that mountain now. Finding a group of people that are willing to take the catious approach and remain alive (or at least die before we do in case of a fuckup) rather than rush for glory sounds like a good approach.

>Unfortunate that these dungeons were high up in the mountains somewhere -- a logistical nightmare.
>It would be great if somebody discovered a dungeon in the middle of a city, but nobody had ever been that lucky.
Yeah, what kind of self-respecting Dungeon would spawn underneath a city and suffer the eternal fear of being found and broken like a badly made toy soldier before they're ready to fight back?

>Then again, the Blackwoods haven't done shit when we destroyed Grez's contract
Undoubtedly this is because they can not locate Grez and possibly consider searching for her a waste of resources. Remember that the contracts themselves act as magical GPS trackers, without a contract on her shoulder they need to find her the old fashioned way which is very manpower and manhour intensive. You can put those grunts to better use than hunting an orphan girl.
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)

You are a Madman QM. Very well written and hot damn. I might get me some inspiration for my short summer campaign from here.
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
What a cunt.
>Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
Voting closed

>2 - Take a moment to explore the Delvers Guild and try and put a group together yourself
>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)

>1 - Join a pre-made group (Skip party-building and timeskip to dungeon)
Heads-up that the dungeons used in this quest are less detailed than the one in "The Little Dungeon" since I'll be making a bunch of them.

Arthur looked around the busy guild hall and figured that there would probably be a half-formed group in here somewhere.
The kind that more-or-less formed after a few “I don’t have a group, do YOU have a group?” glances.
He slicked back his hair and adjusted his coat, “Time for some of that Elvish charm,” he said with a playful smile.


“You kind of look like a weasel,” said the girl wearing a pointy hat, holding a cigarette between fingers, “Or a rat.”
She looked Arthur up and down again, “A… Reasel. Or maybe a Ratsel,” she added, then blew a cloud of smoke in Arthur’s face.

Arthur gave her a look, “Do you need another member or not?” he said, using a hand to wave off the smoke, “I count three of you and there’s isn’t much time left in the day. So either I join you or you spend the rest of the day on your ass.”

The woman wearing the casual robes of a hedge wizard didn’t say anything, but instead just looked at him and took a pull of her cigarette.

As Arthur glanced past her, he made brief eye contact with other two party members sitting at a table nearby.
There was a short, green-skinned woman that waved at him with giddy excitement.
Sitting beside her and shorter still, was a bald, dwarven man with a perpetual frown.
He didn’t wave excitedly or anything, but granted Arthur the downward nod of acknowledgement you reserve for total strangers.

There were a few near-empty tankards on the table before him – not enough to be a problem.

The hedge wizard standing before him, looked-up, “How do I know you won’t just stab me in the dungeon?”

“I can stab you now and we’ll save on time,” replied Arthur.

The woman half-chuckled, “Alright, creepy. You can come,” she said, “Brief introduction: I am Inge Vitsut. Wizard, leader, and in-charge. Stay out of my line-of-sight over in the dungeon as I primarily use Fire magic. I also use a Wand at times. That’s it about me. Do you smoke?”

“Arthur Valra,” said Arthur, “And, no. I don’t.”

Inge looked him up and down again, “Weird,” she said, “You look like a smoker. Well, whatever.”
She took a big drag on her cigarette, but had the decency to blow the smoke in a different direction this time.

Arthur forced some determination in his face, “I’m sure you’re all very dependable and skilled, but I’m gonna need to see your Delver sheets to make sure you people can really back up your claims.”
The small illusion showing your general information that was brought forth from the contractual magical circle on their wrists was visible to everyone, so the information on it could be shown and shared.

“Jeesh, Arty,” said Inge, tapping the cigarette to make some of the ash fall, “Why not just ask me to strip naked right here and now? You want me to lay bare everything about me?”
She watched Arthurs's face closely, looking for a reaction, “Very bold.”
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If it was some squeamish, shy, apologetic response she was looking for, she wasn’t gonna find it.
”If a show comes included then by all-means, feel free,” said Arthur, loosely gesturing with his hands, “Just need to know if you’ll be useful over in the dungeon.”

“Fine,” she said, she then turned to put the remaining part of her cigarette in her tankard.
There was a short hiss as the dregs of her drink doused the flame.
Inge ran her hand over the magical circle on the back of her hand and revealed her information to Arthur.

>pic related

Arthur nodded, then glanced in the direction of the remaining two party members.
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The dwarf got up with all the groans and puffs of a man in his middle-age, but seemed to have no desire to lord his age over the remaining party members.
“Greetings,” he began in a voice so low you nearly had to crouch down to hear it, “Krosen Hornbrow the Fifth. Got a good set of armour on me and I ain’t afraid of a fight. Got me hammer, too,” he said, raising the hammer as if the huge thing could’ve somehow gone unnoticed.

The dwarven man shared his information.
>pic related

“What made you take up the Delver life, Krosen?” asked Arthur.

“Well, I don’t live too far off from ‘ere. Done smithin' all me life. Figured I could use the thrill, y’know,” said Krosen.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and wondered if taking a dwarf with a mid-life crisis was a good idea or not.
He seemed as sturdy as they come, however. Arthur decided to let it slide.

“Let’s not make things too exciting, eh?” said Arthur, gripping the man by the forearm – a dwarven custom, “Don’t wanna make you late for supper.”

The man was somewhat surprised when Arthur grabbed hold of his forearm, but was delighted as he recognized it, and returned the gesture, “Aye,” he said.
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He looked towards the final member, the green-skinned girl.
As she got closer, Arthur was surprised to find that the girl didn’t seem to be a half-orc – which had been Arthur’s guess.
There was a distinct lack of pointy teeth and hostility. There was also the matter of the long, Elvish ears.

Arthur extended a hand for her to shake, she grabbed hold of it with both of hers.
”Hello, hello, I’m Emily,” she said, shaking the hand with such excitement that it made her dress sway, “Are you a bandit? A crook? A thief? Scoundrel and/or thug?”

“What?” said Arthur, leaning away slightly.
All things considered, he probably was a bandit.
Or a crook, thief, thug, and any of those other variations.
But not right now and it was probably for the best to leave that past unmentioned.

“No?” said Arthur, trying to take back his hand.
The bright-faced girl’s grip was strangely soothing, warm like the dull glow of the late-afternoon sun.

The girl seemed disappointed at that, her face fell, “Awh,” she said, then released Arthur’s hand.

“Why’s your skin green?” asked Arthur.

A short distance away, Inge was already trying to light another cigarette, but stopped the match mid-movement.
“Jeesh, Arty. You can’t just ask a girl why her skin is green,” she said mockingly.

“I just did,” said Arthur.

Joyful energy returning at once, the girl pressed herself suspiciously close to Arthur and revealed the information from her Delver sheet.
Whatever place she is from doesn’t take much stock in the concept of personal space.

>pic related

“I’m from a small tribe in a forest far, far away,” she said, seemingly happy to tell about herself at length, “We don’t break our dungeons there, but live alongside them. We get food and other things from the dungeon and in return we sacrifice monsters or animals to the dungeon. They also promise not to eat us.”

“I see,” said Arthur, “Doesn’t explain the green skin though.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at the colour of her arm as if it was something she had forgotten about, “When you get a certain age you have to hunt something big and drag it to Selnis, the dungeon, and then you receive a blessing that turns your skin green.”
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A soft glow appeared on the edge of Arthur’s vision, then smoke.

“Emy,” said Inge, tapping the ash off her cigarette, “I never heard that last bit. I mean, you are aware that the plan is to eventually break these dungeons?”

The green-skinned girl shook her head knowingly, waving a finger, “No, no, no,” she said, “We’re exploring them first. We get to meet them. We can figure out if any of these dungeons are GOOD dungeons. Nice ones, like the one back home. With this many there’s bound to be at least one, right?”

The hedge wizard Inge shrugged, “Maybe,” she said.

Arthur folded his arms and glanced over at Inge, “Overcome with a desire to share your life story yet?” asked Arthur, “Seems to be a trend.”

“Not a chance,” she said, readjusting her clothing to prepare for the upcoming trip up the mountain.

Running a finger over the back of his hand, Arthur shared his information with the rest.
>pic related

Then they began to pack and prepare for the long hike up the mountain.

It took them a little longer than expected because a certain hedge wizard had no stamina whatsoever.
Nevertheless, they arrived at the place unceremoniously called “The Spider Dungeon” after about three hours.
Krosen, the dwarf, had remembered to pick up a guide made by a Mapper back in the guild, but it only contained information on the first floor.
Apparently you had to pay for these guides by the floor and they weren’t cheap.
Inge had mentioned that it was extremely important to check the date on your guide and luckily this guide was updated only yesterday.

They idled near the entrance, checking their equipment.

Arthur turned his gaze this way and that, looking into the dungeon from a safe distance, “Can already see a few,” he said, “Seems like a fight.”

Her hair slightly frizzled and clinging to the side of her face with sweat, Inge stood beside him and narrowed her eyes to make out the skittering shapes in the darkness.
They were the size of ponies. Aggressive, man-eating ponies.

The green-skinned Elf named Emily stood behind them, bend at the waist, her head hovering between Arthur and Inge’s shoulders, “Should we be casting any spells or are we good to go?”


Dungeon Preparation
>1 - Save your Essence for the time being.
>2 - Cast Inge’s “Mage Armour”
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”
>4 - Cost both


Won't be able to run the dungeon right away as I have to run D&D first, but I hope to get to it later today.
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”

Extra Defence is always good.

Have fun with your DND Session
>4 - Cost both
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”
Would this last for the whole dungeon? If yes, then that seems pretty good. +10% chance not to get hit for the whole party, if I understand correctly.
>>1 - Save your Essence for the time being.
better to get a feel for the party without magic first, then expand on our powers.
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”
One cast to bless the whole party with extra defense, oh my what efficency!
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”

Allright, I have the most important question right now.
Do we pronounce Inge with a hard "g" or a soft one?
Like, is her name Cringe without the CR, or more like ingay (without the y; the e pronounced as in bed)
Voting closed
>3 - Cast Emily’s “Gift of the Wild”

I'll start the dungeon tomorrow. Roughly 11h from the time of this post.
It's pronounced like the final part of "Smashing" and then "Uh". Ing-uh.

>Would this last for the whole dungeon? If yes, then that seems pretty good. +10% chance not to get hit for the whole party, if I understand correctly.
Yes, this lasts the whole dungeon. More or less 10%, yeah. Depending on +accuracy ratings of the monsters.
I love our Dwarf Friend already. Let us hope he survives

“Might be a good idea,” said Arthur.

“Gonna hold off for now,” said Inge, “Save my essence for later. You got any supportive spells, Emily?”

“I have one of those!” cried Emily, then began to perform a spell of her own.
Her casting method was much more involved. There was a soft green light, some kind of incantation, and a full minute of voicing her gratitude to the woodland spirits that made the spell possible to begin with.


[…Hostile creatures have gained the benefit of the “Gift of the Wild” spell, increasing their Defence and Magic Resist by 10.]


Inge winced, “You gotta do all that for spell?”

Emily looked at her with a hint of confusion, “Not at all,” she said, then went to stare into the dungeon.
It didn’t seem like any additional explanation was forthcoming.

This was Arthur’s first venture into a dungeon. He wouldn’t say he was nervous. No, of course not.
It would more apt to say he wasn’t entirely relaxed. Arthur began to fidget with his ear cuff, rolling it between his fingers.
Six times. He calmed down somewhat.

“Get yer' move on,” said Korsen Hornbrow, then began walking towards the dungeon, “Any fear I hold fo' these ‘ere beasties is nothing to the wrath of me wife if ai’m late for dinner!”

Inge grabbed the man by the shoulder, “Hold it---,” she tried, but was simply dragged along by the dwarf as he stepped towards dungeon, her boots scratching against the stone beneath her, “Stop! Stop, dammit!”

“Aye?” said the Dwarf, glancing over his shoulder.

“How about we look at the guide first?” said Inge, adjusting her wizardly hat.

One of Korsen’s bushy eyebrows raised up, “Where’s the fun in that?” he said.

A short distance away, Arthur tilted his head, “Why’d you buy it then?”

“Well,” began Korsen, “The missus at the guild thought it important an' I dinnae wanna disappoint 'er.”

Arthur’s confidence in his group was falling by the minute, he gave the dwarf a lazy stare, “Just show us the damn thing, will you.”

Together they went over the guide. It had been last updated only yesterday, so hopefully things hadn’t changed too much.
The first room was supposed to contain some spiders. Two of them.
Afterwards they would walk through some corridors, then a room with glowing stone that sheds some kind of vapour that’s best avoided, then more spiders, and finally a boss room.
It also seemed fairly straight-forward.

A metal sound echoed through the cave as the dwarf tapped his foot, “Can we go now?”

Arthur unsheathed his blade, “Yeah, let’s get a move on.”


[…Four hostile creatures have entered the dungeon.]
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Round 1, Turn Order

Arthur Valra (Speed: 20, Increased to 40 because of skill 'Fast Hands')
Giant Spider (Speed: 20)
Giant Spider (Speed: 20)
Krosen Hornbrow (Speed: 10)
Inge Vitsut (Speed: 10)
Emily Honeyfly (Speed: 10)


Upon entering the dungeon, two giant spiders immediately skittered their way down the walls and darted towards them.
Their fangs were large and menacing, but not dripping any kind of foul toxins from what Arthur could see.
A giant, stone pillar dominated the centre of the room, forcing one spider to approach them from the left and one from the right.
Krosen’s short legs pumped with effort as he ran straight towards one of them.
Arthur grit his teeth and ran towards the other – thought with considerably less enthusiasm.


Arthur Valra (DEF 35, MR 20, HP30)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
>2 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>3 - Do nothing

Krosen Hornbrow (DEF 40, MR 20, HP40)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his hammer (1d100+0, 15 damage on hit)
>2 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>3 - Do nothing

Inge Vitsut (DEF 10, MR 30, HP 20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
>2 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
>3 - Cast a spell (Mention what spell and what target)
>4 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>5 - Do nothing

Emily Honeyfly (DEF 20, MR 30, HP20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)
>2 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)
>3 - Cast a spell (Mention what spell and what target)
>3 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>4 - Do nothing
Arthur Valra (DEF 35, MR 20, HP30)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
Krosen Hornbrow (DEF 40, MR 20, HP40)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his hammer (1d100+0, 15 damage on hit)
Inge Vitsut (DEF 10, MR 30, HP 20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
Emily Honeyfly (DEF 20, MR 30, HP20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)

Lets concentrate on the first spider to kill it off as quickly as possibly so we can flank the other spider.
Supportan this
>>5326678 +1
Voting closed

Arthur Valra (DEF 35, MR 20, HP30)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
Krosen Hornbrow (DEF 40, MR 20, HP40)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his hammer (1d100+0, 15 damage on hit)
Inge Vitsut (DEF 10, MR 30, HP 20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
Emily Honeyfly (DEF 20, MR 30, HP20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)


Need Attack Rolls for all party members.
Use the modifiers listed above.
The number you're trying to beat here is 20.
Yes, that's a low number, but this is the very first fight.

Please include the following message:
Rolling for PARTY_MEMBER against Giant Spider #1

One roll per reply
Spider has 20 DEFENCE so physical attacks roll against that.
Arthur, Krosen, and Emily have to beat a 20 using a 1d100+Accuracy roll.

Inge is using a magic wand so she only has to beat a 10, which is the Magic Resist of the creature.
Rolled 51 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Rolling for Arthur Valra against Giant Spider #1
sorry if I'm doing this wrong I'm a bit confused
Rolled 44 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

Rolling for Inge Vitsut against Giant Spider #1

>Yes, that's a low number, but this is the very first fight.

This is supposed to be the Goblin Equivalent is it not? I would be more shocked if it were incredibly hard to hit them.

Interesting.... i should have figured that Wands and Staffs used different Attacks. SO is Inge using like a DND 5e Cantrip she can pretty much use at will or how can we imagine her magic attack?
Rolled 34 (1d100)

>Rolling for Krosen Hornbrow against Giant Spider #2
>forgot anchor
Was going to happen at one point.
Rolled 3 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

No worries, you rolled as you are supposed to.

>I should have figured that Wands and Staffs used different Attacks
They do. Emily uses her staff like a D&D "Quarterstaff", she just whacks people with it. Using strength.
Inge uses a magical wand that relies on her Magic stat. The wand is pretty much a cantrip, yes.


I've never rolled for my own posts before, I do wanna make some progress so:

Rolling for Emily Honeyfly against Giant Spider #1
Not that it matters here, but I thought Arthur had speed 30? >>5325478
Rolled 90, 76 = 166 (2d100)

>roll for once in my life on my own post
>immediately punished
I'm sorry, dice gods.




As a trial run (as mentioned in the OP), I'm trying out that the QM rolls for the monster rolls like in D&D
Rolling 2d100 for the "Giant Spider's Attacks". I will add +20 (Their accuracy) after the roll.

Giant Spider #1
>Attacks Arthur (DEF 35)

Giant Spider #1
>Attacks Krosen (DEF 40)
Just to clarify that I understand correctly, in this case Arthur has no chance of missing since their accuracy is higher then the Spider's defence right? Same for Inge with magic resist.

Also while we are at it you might want to specify which stat a certain weapon hits on the sheet, because it might not always be clear. I mean clearly if it is scales with strength it "hits" defence and magic scaling makes it "hit" magic resist, but if you intend to have magic weapons or something that hit the other defensive stat/both it might be best to specify anyway. If that makes any sense.
>Everybody has very little Defence and decent bonuses to Accuracy
>No one is very likely to miss anything
Not sure I like that
I mean, that is fairly obvious already. If anything would be changed, I would change Defence into Physical Resistance or Armor or Physical Defence rather than have a note explictly babying people. Magic Resist is already explicitly obvious.
You are correct. My bad.

Both spiders hit, dealing 5 points of damage to Arthur and Krosen.

I'll change the name of "Defence" into "Physical Resistance" going forward.
That way there can be no confusion what "Defence" is defending against.
I'll also add a tiny little text next to the weapon name along the lines of "Shortsword (Common, Targets Physical)" or something along those lines.

Yeah, feels off, doesn't it?
Didn't want to start of with too high of a DEF and MR on everything as that would result in people just missing each other for a long time, but I might've skewed things a bit too much in the other direction.

Round 2, Turn Order

Arthur Valra (Speed: 30, Increased to 60 because of skill 'Fast Hands')
Giant Spider (Speed: 20)
Krosen Hornbrow (Speed: 10)
Inge Vitsut (Speed: 10)
Emily Honeyfly (Speed: 10)


Arthur Valra (DEF 35, MR 20, HP25)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
>2 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>3 - Do nothing

Krosen Hornbrow (DEF 40, MR 20, HP35)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his hammer (1d100+0, 15 damage on hit)
>2 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>3 - Do nothing

Inge Vitsut (DEF 10, MR 30, HP 20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
>2 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
>3 - Cast a spell (Mention what spell and what target)
>4 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>5 - Do nothing

Emily Honeyfly (DEF 20, MR 30, HP20)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)
>2 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)
>3 - Cast a spell (Mention what spell and what target)
>3 - Flee (Done at the end of the round)
>4 - Do nothing


Fluff for combat will be written after this round as there is only one spider with 5 health left.
I am a copy/paste criminal.

>1 - Attack Giant Spider #1 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
Arthur Valra
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his Shortsword (1d100+30, 10 damage on hit)
Krosen Hornbrow
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using his hammer (1d100+0, 15 damage on hit)
Inge Vitsut
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her wand (1d100+10, 10 damage on hit)
Emily Honeyfly
>1 - Attack Giant Spider #2 using her staff (1d100+10, 5 damage on hit)
Just kill the fucker.
As far as I can tell, Arthur goes first and has 30 ACC versus 20 DEF so the spider just dies.
Voting closed
>As far as I can tell, Arthur goes first and has 30 ACC versus 20 DEF so the spider just dies.
The hallmark of a great system. Cough. Moving on.
>Inb4 DungeonQM having a breakdown about challenge level and pump all defenses by 50 and all magical defense by 30
The problem of being a seer is being right.
Damnit. Surely the giant enemy spiders didn't get him...right? please?
The dream is dead. The only thing that could kill DungeonQM was his own mechanics.
QM when you said 'Moving on' I took it as we would get more updates; not that you were leaving us forever :<
so... is your life just super busy? Did you pick up a third, fourth and fifth DND Game?

Any communication would be nice. I am still very interested in this Quest.
Truly a victim of his own hubris
DungeonQM was killed by the Giant Metagame Spiders, and then absorbed by the dungeon. May he quest in peace. F.
rest in piss QM
Thread is now archived. RIP QM, you will be missed.


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