Worthy Core

It's somewhat to Raylin's surprise when the first joint noble dungeon expedition is set for the very next day, but after spending an afternoon listening to the sound of construction work he found himself more than eager to get away from the estate for a day. As the four of them enter the dungeon inn - Raylin, Gilda, Taylim, and Sweet - the Marksman takes a moment to examine the place for changes which may have occurred since his last visit. Physically, not much appears to have changed on first glance. The extra party space had finally been closed back up, putting the place back to its original layout as he remembers it for the most part. What does strike the man the most however is the change in the people.

For starters, there's clearly an incubus working behind the tavern's bar alongside the rabbit-eared staff, and one of the waitresses taking out drink orders seems to be a mundane human as far as he can tell. Beyond that, the place is packed compared to the last time he'd visited the place. Every New Continent ethnicity aside from draconics and slimes is represented, and even a few stranger faces like beastkin or goblins can be seen in smaller numbers. Many of them seem quite impressive as well from a quick glance, with elaborate armor and clearly-enchanted weapons gracing many of those present. It's still early in the day, so the tavern's musical stage is empty, but Raylin can already imagine what the place must look like once evening falls.

What isn't immediately obvious though is the reason they came to the inn first. "So, Lady Gilda, you said your healer will be waiting for us here?"

"Indeed - and you can drop the honorifics, Raylin, I don't want us to be delayed in a fight because we're trying to be formal about our deaths. The same goes for you, Taylim."

The man gives a slight bow, but there's a smirk on his face as he answers. "As you wish, my lady." The intentional formality draws a bit of ire from the half-elf, but Raylin quickly interjects.

"You'll have to forgive Taylim his quirks. If it wasn't for his dry pretense at pretending he respects noble rank, the man would have no sense of humor at all."

"Is that so?" Gilda doesn't seem entirely sure how she ought to take that, but fortunately for the bodyguard she soon finds herself distracted. "Ah, I see our man - his table is over there, follow me." The group does so, and Raylin doesn't need long to identify their fifth member. He's an elf - and if Raylin judges it right, a full-blooded one rather than the half-human lineage that makes up most of House Highbranch's noble members. The man's hair is black and slicked back, kept short enough to be worn under a helmet, and his shoulders seem thick enough to indicate that he's no stranger to handling himself in a melee fight. As they get closer other evidence of that becomes plain as well, including quite a few scars on his face. The color of his green eyes even seems slightly mismatched, indicating that at some point the man lost one - or both - and had the injury magically regenerated. All in all, it's very much not what Raylin was expecting when he was told they would be meeting their party's healer here.

The man rises from his seat and gives his own bow as the party approaches. "Lady Highbranch, Honorable Perlin, it is my honor to meet you here. I've been anticipating our first dungeon intrusion together."

"Simply Gilda is fine, as I was just telling the others." Gilda claims her seat at the table without fanfare, and the others soon follow. "It's been a while since we've last met, hasn't it? Raylin, Taylim, please meet Paladin Barlond Tanglethorn, our healer. Paladin, this is Raylin Perlin, Noble Marksman, and Taylim of Anchorfest, Royal Sentinel."

Raylin's brow furrows as he shakes the man's hand. "Paladin? I might be mistaken, but I thought the Paladin line usually focused on offense and defense. Is healing not usually more the line of Clerics?"

Barlond grins, his cheerful expression somewhat marred by the scars that stretch across his face as he does so. "Aha, it doesn't surprise me that her ladyship would forego expressing my full title. I am a Paladin of Pain, good sir, in service to Jaaleni, the Goddess of Pain. Manipulation of the body is a key part of our church's training."

For once, Taylim's stoic expression cracks a bit. "...Manipulation of the body, you say?"

"Indeed! Our Clerics, the Masochists, are experts at taking the pain of both themselves and others and using it as fuel for their own abilities. We Sadist Paladins however tend to more directly take that pain and immediately redirect it onto our enemies! It's not exactly a traditional healing method, I'll admit, or even truly intended as one. But as a side effect pain and its sources are removed, leading to much the same outcome."

Raylin seems unconvinced, leading the usually quiet Sweet to speak up in support of the Paladin. "If it helps to have my own word to vouch for him, I have worked alongside Paladin Tanglethorn on several occasions myself - and sparred with him several times. I know a few things about causing injuries, and I can say that Tanglethorn is rather adept at undoing my work. Which I should note that some other, more traditional schools of healing have trouble accomplishing."

"I see." Raylin eyes the man for signs of his equipment, but if it's present it seems to be stashed into a bag of holding. "What would be your role in the party then, Paladin? Front-liner? Or more of a support position?"

"I believe myself to be quite flexible, but generally I react to the type of enemy we're facing. My abilities work strongest when I'm the one generating pain myself, you see, but in a dungeon that doesn't always work. Many undead, for example, feel no pain. In those cases I will traditionally fall back, and focus on managing the well-being of my companions. Fortunately our party seems to be rather flexible in general - I know the lady here is suited for both front-line and support work herself, and while Sweet may have the strength to lead a charge, I know she prefers to play the role of a flanker."

Taylim speaks up with a note of approval in his voice, apparently liking his analysis of the elf. "I look forward to seeing you in action. Where will we begin, then? Have you begun clearing the dungeon already?"

Gilda answers for her retainer. "I've had Barlond here work his way up alongside other parties these past few weeks, and he just cleared Floor Seven the other day. Since the rest of us have cleared it as well, I was thinking then we would go right into Floor Eight."

The Marksman shoots Gilda a disbelieving look. "Hold on, now - our first battle together as a group, and you want to go right into the hardest floor of the dungeon? One that has yet to be cleared by anyone? Why not, say, Floor Four, just for practice?"

Sweet bares her teeth in a grin. "I respect your caution, but the lady and I have discussed it, and I believe the risk is manageable. The mimics making up Floor Eight are not too severe a threat, certainly not to a party of our tier. It's only Master Mimic Parker who's been keeping the floor uncleared, and we do not need to engage him on our first try. We will be needing to try the floor eventually anyways, so we may as well begin there. Unless you feel your skills have grown rusty these past few months, Sir Marksman?"

Examining the group again, a realization occurs to Raylin. "Ah - Paladin of Pain, that's a Master-tier rank, yes? And Gilda, I know you've trained up recently, as well as Taylim here? Well...that makes me the only Expert in this group, I suppose. It hadn't occurred to me that I was the newbie in this gathering." He gives a bit of a wry grin. "In that case I suppose it's up to me then to try and pull my weight here. No worries, Sweet - my aim is as good as ever, I've not been neglecting my own training these past few months, even if I am not yet ready for a tier graduation."

"Very well then." Gilda gives a curt nod at his assent. "We'll give Barlond here some time to change into his armor, and then we'll see just what sort of mimics the dungeon has available to throw at us..."

When the party steps into Floor Eight, making their way through a convenient shortcut portal, they find themselves in a rather large yet cluttered space. The room, longer than it is wide, has rows of beds along each wall all the way up to the opposite side. Trunks sit next to most of the bunks, alongside nightstands with candles, snacks, loose articles of clothing and other miscellaneous items. Barlond eyes it for a moment before nodding to himself. "Looks like we're starting in the barracks, then."

Rather than responding right away, Raylin finds himself rather distracted by the Paladin's 'armor'. He'd been expecting something rather more like what Sable Bluehair often wore around the dungeon, a shining set of full plate emblazoned with the symbol of the paladin's church. Instead, the man's torso is covered only by a set of black leather straps covered in enchanted runes, while in the place of a helmet the man wears a leather cowl. The large amount of exposed skin exposes quite a few scars along with it, many of which look like they ought to have been lethal. The Marksman had held his curiosity at first, but he finally finds himself at his limit.

"I have a question on that, but first, I'm sorry, I really have to ask - are you certain you're equipped for this, Paladin? It seems as if the first arrow to fly your way could end your Challenging career rather abruptly..."

Barlond gives the noble a grin, a rather sinister-appearing act thanks to the fashion of the cowl covering his eyes and nose. "Do not think me unprotected, sir. My gear is enchanted to protect me - but unlike most such enchantments, which protect the skin, my enchantments only protect what's beneath it. Thus allowing me to feel the full impact of every blow I receive, without sustaining lethal damage to my vital organs."

"...I see. And that's a...good thing?"

"For me, it very much is. Now, you said you had another question?"

"Ah, right. You sounded as if you weren't expecting us to start off in a barracks. Or did I misread you?"

The elf nods, as he returns his attention to the room around him. "This floor is more dynamic than most. Rooms are said to change layout between visits, with some not appearing at all on some runs. More than that, the ambushes change as well. After all, they wouldn't be surprise ambushes if you knew exactly what all the mimics were disguised as, yes? A bedsheet might be a mimic one day, on another, it's the pillow. All in all, it's always best to remain cautious."

Taylim grunts, as he points his sword toward the door at the other end of the room. "Ought we just ignore everything then, and then proceed on through? As I understand it, mimics often just punish greedy adventurers." Sweet growls out her disagreement, though.

"Remember, our purpose here today is practice, not to complete the floor as quickly as possible. Hunting out mimics is exactly what we're here for. Besides - would you like to have a room full of monsters to our rear, should we need to retreat?"

"Fair point. Where do we start, then?"

Having finished double-checking the runes recently painted onto her shield, Gilda grins. "I imagine Sweet here could sniff out most of them if she put her nose to it. But where's the fun in that, hrmm? Let us begin by introducing some of the furniture around us to our blades, and see what complains..."