Ashes of the Fallen

"So even when you killed it the last time, someone still died?" I asked, a little puzzled that the boss was so difficult. I had honestly expected it to go quite smoothly, and thought it did until I screwed up.

"Right, I died last time but the goblin went down while it chased the priest around," said the dwarf with a bit of laugh as he patted his friend on the back. "It was hilarious watching this elf 'ere run around with his skirt up, 'oh look at me prance, can't step on me gown now!'"

"Oi jackass, it's not a skirt, it's a robe," the priest shot back. "All casters wear one."

"Oh yeh, this caster 'ere doesn't 'ave a skirt does he?" the dwarf retorted while pointing a finger at me. "Movin' on, what do ye say to continuing down to the third?"

"No issue with me, experience is what it is," I said with a chuckle.

Since I basically lost all of the experience I had gained from the first floor, I figured it couldn't hurt to at least try and recoup some of the lost experience with a quick trash clear. Well, I did complete the two quest chains, so it wasn't a complete loss.

A quick glance at the loot before us, there was another [Old Dory] and a [Cracked Aspis] from the goblin guard that no one really wanted along with a [Crude Sleeveless Leather Jerkin] and [Crude Leather Gloves]. Those two actually made for a fairly decent entry level tanking set, seeing as they were slightly above the [Worn Leather Vest] both the dwarf and I were wearing.

As far as stats go, the only real difference was in the thickness and hardness of the leather. It wouldn't last long if you were stabbed a few times, as it would simply be shredded apart, but it would take a bit more effort from the opponent to pierce through.

The game didn't really have a conventional loot system with random plus defense numbers or plus health numbers and offered a more realistic resistance based off material quality and design.

What that meant for late game… well, I could only imagine once iron armor made its rounds and if steel plate armor is ever discovered, I would start to worry about the practical effectiveness of melee weapons or bows in general. A fully armored tank in plate armor would be a serious monster when super human physical abilities were added on top.

I mean, weight and mobility were essentially the only drawbacks to such armor in the past, reduce or remove that liability and you have the definition of a super tank.

Yeah, well I didn't have to worry about that.

If I've learned one thing in life, it's that metal conducts electricity quite wonderfully. A bunch of metal cans running around the battlefield waiting for a lightning strike?

Hah, I couldn't wait.

After everything was piled and sorted on the floor, I was able to finally get a good look at our assortment of goods. There were seven poor quality swords, six enchanted rings with plus-two to a random attribute, two rings with plus-three, the aforementioned leather armor, shield and spear, and seventy-one inferior quality vendor swords.

"Quite the haul, really," I said after looking everything over. "At least three-hundred copper for each of us, if not a bit more." My mind was preoccupied with what kind of NPC I could draft, or if I should invest in livestock or other goods to help develop my village. This was easy money and experience all in one nifty package, and certainly more enjoyable than hunting wolves ad infinitum.

"I'm taking the leather if there's no objection," said the dwarf as he looked around.

"None here, you're the tank," I replied as I eyed the plus-three strength rings. "I'll take the vendor trash and two rings, if you guys want the better stuff."

"I don't need any of it," said the priest.

"Same, maybe a ring but it's all junk," reiterated the mage.

That just left the archer, but he didn't say anything.

He was a bit of a quiet fellow. Fairly forgettable really, not even sure what his name was, honestly. Ah, well, I didn't actually know any of their names since we all had our name plates hidden.

Taking as many of the ten copper inferior swords that were cracked and rusty as I could, I had devised a slight plan in my head. From the looks of the weapons they were certainly brittle and most of them had already cracked but the rust was only on the surface. The iron used to make them was still usable… if I could bring them back to the blacksmith, he could probably melt them down and smelt them into new swords. Raw materials essentially, and at a discount price.

That was one way to corner a market, take junk people were willing to give away and turn it into a valued commodity that they would pay top dollar for. Shrewd, perhaps, but I saw it as utilizing what was given to me. In the far North, the northern wastelands were a desolate place with no potential. At least that's what they say.

The joke was on them, though.