Quotes featuring Cervial

“Why not let the other adventurers go in first and wait for at least one or two to come back for more insight? I know I organized us to talk—but I’m still not sold myself. This isn’t like you, Yvlon. I could see Calruz wanting to go in, but how’d he manage to talk you into it?”

“What does Ceria Springwalker think about the Ruins?”

“I might, might be willing to give this a try. I’ve wasted enough time in Liscor to see that the other teams aren’t organized. Charlez was brave—but he went in alone, with only his team for backup. The Horns of Hammerad and the Silver Spears together represent a large fighting force. If I throw in my team, we’d have a party big enough to challenge even the deeper parts of the Ruins of Albez.”

“She might not have any idea what’s down there. It could be fine. They’re not all-knowing. I mean, despite her name.”

“If—”

“You seem awfully confident about that, Calruz. The High Passes are no joke. If it were there we were going to explore, I wouldn’t feel comfortable even with all three of our teams working together.”

“That’s what Charlez said. He took his entire group in right off, and they came back as zombies. Not a scratch on their weapons, but their armor was nearly ripped off. We all know what that means.”

“Then why didn’t Ceria join us and lend her support while we were all arguing? If she had—”

“I wondered where I’d seen her face. That girl—I believe I saw her last night. She ran straight into the city just before dawn. She’s here now, in fact. I saw her entering the guild.”

“Only if you’re taking the worst view of it.”

“I’m not suggesting they are. But between our three teams, we’re at least equal to one or two Gold-rank teams, and if the rest of you joined in it might work. Might.”

“I understand, but I’ll trust our resident half-Elf on this one. If she thinks it’s worth the risk, I’ll take my team in, cramped corridors or not. How often do you think we’ll get a chance like this?”

“It took some doing, but Ceria convinced me that the ruins could be loaded with ancient artifacts. They’re quite similar to ancient crypts apparently.”

“Adventuring isn’t easy at our level. We’re just good enough that it’s not worth our time to take requests clearing out Goblin tribes unless they’re really big—but we don’t have the strength to take on the stronger types of monsters. Sooner or later, our luck runs out and we take an injury we can’t heal up from—or die. That’s why these new ruins might be our break. If we can get in there and find some serious magical artifacts or equipment, we could easily reach Gold-rank.”

“Still, we’re going in carefully. Both Yvlon and I are only doing this for the treasure.”

“Hold it, Calruz. You can’t just order someone to leave. Pull up a chair or sit at the other end of the table.”

“He just wants the challenge. That stupid Minotaur doesn’t care what enemies he’s fighting so long as he can gain experience from it. He’s an old-fashioned type. Death or glory with no in between. Not like the rest of us.”

“Really? And which Runners do we sound like?”

“Not that we ever plan to get in trouble of course, but when we’re in a pinch…at our level, we need to forge friendships and build up our group. It’s not something people think about, but there’s really no other way to survive. We trust each other with our backs or we’ll fall together.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to use any other weapons besides your fists, would you? A bow, for example?”

“Really? That’s not a good thing, usually. The Runner’s Guild and the Adventurer’s Guild don’t get along. They think we’re all muscle-bound idiots, and we think they’re—”

“Being an adventurer is all about finding trustworthy contacts. Good Runners like you for instance—having someone to rely on when we’re out exploring dungeons is far better than requesting an emergency delivery and hoping the Runner we get is competent.”

“A shame. But I hope if you see a request from us you’ll consider taking it. In fact, if you’d like, we could arrange to request deliveries from you alone if you’re ever in the same area as we are.”

“When you put it like that, I imagine I’d be biting mad at everyone. Thanks for letting us know, Ceria. No wonder Calruz and Gerial speak so highly of you.”

“Does that mean she hasn’t slept for at least a day? And then she ran over here and picked a fight with a Silver-rank Captain? She’s got the attitude of a Gold-ranker.”

“[Appraisal]. It’s a Skill that [Marksmen] get sometimes. I can’t see your level or your class.”

“Ceria, what did you want to say?”

“I can agree with that. And I know Fals. He’s no coward, although he does represent most of the things I dislike about the Runner’s Guild. But he’s not wrong. It’s a tough world. Yet you seem to disagree?”

“The difference? Well—it could be just a few levels depending on their equipment. Remember, in most cases it’s the entire party who gets the Gold-rank. I guess Silver-rank is mostly in the low twenties at best while Gold-rank is anywhere from Level 24 onwards.”

“Your skill at unarmed fighting is quite incredible. I can see how it would be useful keeping away bandits and Goblins.”

“And you lot have this entire inn to yourself? We’ve barely standing room in our inn, and we’re sleeping three people to a room. Mind sharing?”

“We’re not ready to go in, Calruz. We need supplies. We thought we could get them here, but prices are high and supply is low. Besides that, we need to send some scouting teams in. And there are other adventurers to consider letting join—”

“They’re part of Liscor! You hurt them, you make an enemy out of the city! They’re not here for a fight! These are the Worker-types.”

“Let’s go. I can’t see her. The girl must have some kind of running Skill.”

“Yeah. He tried to get into the city, but the guard told him the gates were closed. He’s stomping his way back now.”

“It cost nearly every gold piece we had, but it was worth it. We cracked the armor of a Stone Golem with one shot, and we’ve brought down more shielded enemies than I can count with this.”

“That’s because this one is made by Dwarves. Custom-ordered. Ever seen one this nice, Gerial? It’s like a bow, but one that you can load and wait until you need to shoot. This one’s a piece of art. Pure Dwarfsteel, straight from the forges of Deríthal-Vel.”

“We might be at a disadvantage if we run into tight corridors, but with this, we’ll be able to pull our weight.”

“No use fretting about one or two swords now. We’re five adventuring teams. Counting the extras, we’re over forty people strong, and all of us are Silver-rank. If there’s a Gold-rank team better than this, I’d love to see it.”

“Gregor is busy going through the last adventurers clamoring to join the expedition. He says he’ll probably turn them all down, but you never know who’ll turn up.”

“The Flawless Flights are ready to go.”

“I don’t like these unexcavated areas. Something could tunnel their way around and ambush us.”

“I hear them.”

“Back!”

“Let my archers soften them up first. We can take down at least half in this open area. Save you the energy.”

“Got one.”

“Hm. Look at this, Yvlon.”

“Perhaps not.”

“They don’t play nice with other monsters. That would be my best bet.”

“Very likely. But see behind them—?”

“Still, that was quite a group. Not exactly a small welcoming committee, was it?”

“This is a good place to fall back to, though. See—there’s only two ways in, and we can use that long corridor as a killing zone with our bows if we need to.”

“Look at the sides. Stone. It was attached to something. A wall perhaps, or some kind of art?”

“This is strange.”

“Still. That was a bit too convenient and quick for my liking. Normally, I’d expect them to be spread out as they sense us and follow each other, not rush all at once like that.”

“Must be. And these other…yes, these are all bags full of loot! Abandoned. Why?”

“Zombies can sense the living. It’s only natural they’d feel so many of us and come running.”

“This. They’re mostly Human, these zombies. And freshly dead. If they weren’t, we’d be fighting skeletons. Average zombies rot to bone in a year or less. Even sealed—they’d be all dried out, not actively rotting.”

“That sounds like a failing preservation spell to me. Something is keeping them from rotting. Zombies are a bit tougher than skeletons so someone wanted their flesh intact…but didn’t spell the gear. That’s why there’s a mismatch. How long does it take for good armor to get to that state? They must be ancient.”

“Duck!”

“I fired it right at the damn monster, but it just took Elise and ate her. Damn it. Damn them.”

“They were our best. Nothing should have been able to take out all of them without making a sound. Not even a horde of the undead. All of them had escape skills. So how—”

“It was a terrible ambush. My [Dangersense] only went off at the last moment. If we’d paid more attention to the scouts—”

“Retreat?”

“No. We don’t do that. That was an ambush, not a fair fight. We’re going to go after those monsters and shoot them to bits.”

“[Point-Blank Shot]!”

“There’s no way in hell I’m retreating, not without a huge pile of gold to put on my people’s tombstones.”