Unconquered Tower

THIRTY-FIVE

The defensive mobs weren’t smart. In fact they were rather hilariously dumb. Roan quickly found that he had to order them in precise words what he wanted done as the new Sheriff of the town.

“Take everything that’s not nailed down,” had been a bad order. Piles or rubbish had been heaped in front of him by the glassy eyed mobs as they hurried to follow his orders. He’d changed it quickly, often having to find the small creatures and break them into crews, but the ruined village was quickly being stripped bare.

More than one of the support guild who wasn’t at the funerals had seen what was happening and had pitched in to help. Roan had felt an instinctive, primal desire to defend his hoard, but he crushed it under his iron will and pragmatism.

“I can’t carry all of this. The more who have gear to survive the better for me in the long run. I really can’t carry all of this.” It became a mantra in the back of his mind allowing him to watch as valuable items were grabbed and equipped. He did manage to find a full set of enchanting gear that went into his locked storage ring, which was also nearly full.

Weaponry that he wanted to enchant and sell were stacked to the side, all of them at minimum common-grade. He saw alchemy gear he figured Moira would want or at least have better use for, and set it aside as well. Fires had started to crackle and smell of burning flesh filled the village soon enough as the funeral pyres were lit. With his time running out Roan used his access to the market to look over what his body temper had netted him.

ROAN

STRENGTH: 28 (+10)

ENDURANCE: 33 (+12)

SPEED: 23 (+8)

DEXTERITY: 25 (+8)

PERCEPTION: 21 (+8)

INTELLIGENCE: 13 (+2)

KNOWLEDGE: 19 (+2)

MANA CORE: N/A

SOUL TEMPERING: N/A

BLOODLINE: PURIFIER (POOR GRADE)

“What were my gains for the first level of the temper?” Roan tried to remember, but that entire level had been a non-stop race and with the pendant on that level helping him strengthen himself, it would be nearly impossible to figure out the pure growth.

“Except the perception growth. That doubled. From four to eight and that’s the only time its grown. Aside from intelligence it’s the hardest to make grow.” Roan couldn’t be for sure, but if he used perception as a baseline, then the first temper would have been a net gain of four for his body and this one a net gain of eight. The other stat points were just from him being active and training.

“Can’t know for sure but once I get the third temper done I’ll have a better feel for it.” The thought of it doubling again and being a sixteen point jump was attractive. Something he’d have to aim for on the next level if possible unless somehow he was able to do what he did with the dragon core.

Roan looked over the piles of growing loot and realized the villagers had been holding out on them. Food, herbs, and fighting gear was everywhere. Most of it was poor-grade, but that was better than nothing. Roan was tempted to sell all he could and buy common-grade gear.

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“Better to have others equipped rather than just me. After all, who’s going to buy my enchanted gear if everyone is dead?”

CURRENT BALANCE: 67,741

Last night he hadn’t managed to reap enough of the goblinoids and had received no money for the killing of the dragon or purifying the corruption. His current account was barely enough that he could buy uncommon-grade armor.

“Do I want to blow that much? It’ll leave me without much of a bank balance. Can’t spend money if I’m dead though.” Ignoring the temptation of selling everything and hoarding for himself, Roan started to look through the options for armor. It wasn’t as bad as he feared.

HARDENED BREASTPLATE

UNCOMMON GRADE

25,000 CREDITS

A STEEL BREASTPLATE THAT’S BEEN HARDENED TO WITHSTAND COMMON-GRADE ELEMENTAL ATTACKS

ENCHANTMENT SLOTS 1/2

REFLECTIVE BREASTPLATE

UNCOMMON GRADE

25,000 CREDITS

REFLECT A PORTION OF THE PHYSICAL DAMAGE SUSTAINED

ENCHANTMENT SLOTS 1/2

LEECH BREASTPLATE

UNCOMMON GRADE

25,000 CREDITS

ARMOR DRAINS VITALITY SLOWLY, STORING IT TO BE USED TO RENEW THE USER AT A SELECTED TIME

ENCHANTMENT SLOTS 1/2

“Only a breastplate costs half of the cost of a full set of armor. The leech one is cool, but will it revive me if I die because it doesn’t stop something? What if a slow draining attack hits? Reflective is also good but if the attack I absorb kills me, then does it matter? Hardened is the more overall useful choice, but it’s boring and offers no utility. I don’t like how half the enchantment slots are taken either.”

Roan looked up and saw people starting to trickle in from the funeral, but nobody had come over to him yet. He abandoned the breastplates only and looked over the full sets of armor.

HARDENED ARMORED ROBES

UNCOMMON GRADE

50,000 CREDITS

SMALL ARMORED PLATES THAT ARE RESISTANT TO PHYSICAL AND ELEMENTAL ATTACKS ARE SECURED IN VITAL SPOTS ACROSS THE BODY

ENCHANTMENTS 1/2

CHAMELEON’S SKIN

UNCOMMON GRADE

50,000 CREDITS

A SUIT OF TOUGHENED LEATHER THAT BLENDS INTO THE ENVIRONMENT

ENCHANTMENTS 1/2

HEAVY LEATHERS

UNCOMMON GRADE

50,000 CREDITS

TOUGHENED LEATHER THAT’S RESISTANT TO PHYSICAL, ELEMENTAL, AND MAGICAL ATTACKS

ENCHANTMENTS 0/2

There were more choices, miles of them, but Roan stopped at the first set of armor he saw that had open enchantment slots. With a grimace he bought the set before he could talk himself out of it. The familiar pop of displaced air rang out and a set of folded, black pebbled leathers hit the ground at his feet.

He bought another set of cheap robes and threw them on, tossing his stained set to the ground and pulling on the new ones before he donned the leathers. Sweat instantly started to form as he laced the strings of the heavy leathers on, tightening them quickly.

“I’ll buy a breastplate to put over the leathers later if this run goes well. Need a helmet too.” Roan’s bank account was bled out, sitting at a little under fourteen thousand credits.

“What’s this?” Darren asked, coming toward him with a frown on his face. The man wasn’t pointing at Roan’s armor, but the mountain of looted gear that lay everywhere.

“Talked to Mayor Hana like you told me to. I’m now the Sheriff and the mobs are mine to command. I have them stripping the village down to the bedrock to see what’s useful.”

“Smart. And convenient. We’re going into the temporal rooms to heal,” Darren said, waving a finger to encompass his friends.

“This feels off. Darren isn’t fighting me or accusing me of something? Isolating himself with his closest allies while I’m out here. What’s he got plotting?” The paranoid voice was one-hundred percent his, the voice that had kept him alive in the dead streets of Las Vegas.

“Moira, I found you an alchemy kit,” Roan said, pointing out the extra kit. Moira looked at it and nodded slowly, her eyes guarded. Even Taoya looked solemn, his normal smile not present at all.

“The funeral or something else? I’ll have to keep an eye on them. They don’t know about the second-level of my temper. Can I beat Taoya if he comes after me?” The thoughts ran in a long string as Roan worked hard to keep his face a mask as he waved them through. All four of them, Darren, Taoya, Moira, and Tyler, walked by him with only a casual wave at best.