He heaved himself out of the hole in a posture reminiscent of a gorilla, his body unfolding with a fluid, almost primal grace. His head was rounded and unsettlingly pale, completely devoid of eyes, yet a pair of sharp, bony teeth protruded conspicuously from his jaw. His nose was an obtuse triangle where a human nose should be, and his face curved strangely outwards, while his neck seemed... entirely absent. He had a pronounced humped back, from which three sharp, bony spines jutted from his spinal column, the middle one noticeably larger and more prominent than the other two. He jumped down from the hole with a loud thud, splashing dirt and pebbles. I thought he'd be taller, but he stood around 5'2" or 5'3" with a perpetually slumped posture. He was clearly ripped, muscular, but his lower limbs were oddly shorter, giving him a Johnny Bravo-esque top-heavy appearance. He was carrying a huge sack bag, made of worn leather with intricate, almost alien writings that looked like runes I couldn't decipher. He was wearing a black leather armor vest with spike studs glinting defiantly on the neck, sleeves, and waist area. A strikingly red G-string, boldly paired with leather pants, completed his ensemble, making him look less like a cave dweller and more like a Rockstar Troglodyte. He even sported a fiery letter 'T' gold chain necklace. Though he wasn't wearing any shoes, proudly displaying his three prominent toes, he truly rocked the outfit with an undeniable flair.
He placed his massive sack aside with a soft thud and raised both his three-fingered hands, palms open, a clear, chill gesture that he was not aggressive. "Sir, I'm Toni," he rumbled, his voice deep and masculine, carrying a surprising suave, almost jazzy tone to it, like he was trying to talk to me while singing a smooth lounge number. "Yes, I am a Troglodyte. A businessman by night, dungeon diver by day, at your service, my dude. I'm happy that you have an awareness type skill; it saves me the trouble of introducing what I am." He finished with a subtle, eyeless wink.
I didn't drop my guard, not by a long shot. "How do you know that I have an awareness skill?" I said defensively, my sword still at the ready. "Maybe I just know what you were like; I have seen your kind before."
"You might be right, my saviour," he drawled in a calm, surprisingly relaxing manner, his invisible gaze unperturbed. "But saying 'maybe' implies uncertainty meeting my kinsmen, because if you did, you already cut my throat." He continued, a shrug rippling through his hunched shoulders. "Most of my fellow troglodytes are, shall we say, feral, unlike I. As one might say, domesticated. Anywho, as a token of my gratitude, I will give you an exit portal where you can use to instantly teleport you out of this place." He casually reached into his massive sack bag, his fingers rummaging.
I raised my sword towards him, pointing the tip. "No funny business," I said defiantly, my voice a little tighter than I intended.
"Don't worry, good sir, I am no threat. You took down that big snake; you can easily take my life if you wanted," he said calmly, pulling out a scroll with a blue ribbon tied neatly around it. He held it up, a silent testament to his offering.
General Awareness:
Scroll of Exit:
Definition: When used, brings the user back to the entrance of the dungeon.
He slowly placed the scroll down in front of him and kicked it gently towards me. It rolled harmoniously to my feet, a small, paper cylinder of salvation. "I mean you no harm, good sir, you can rest assured. I am but a humble businessman trying to find loots in dungeons to sell." His tone was smooth, almost reassuring.
I cautiously took the scroll and put it under my hoodie pocket, my sword still firmly in hand. "Um, thank you for the scroll," I said, not dropping my guard even an inch.
"No, sir, thank YOU!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with genuine, laid-back appreciation. "That's just a gesture of my sincerity, my good sir. I can also identify your two items lying on the ground." He gestured with a casual sweep of a hand towards the tanto and my new leather armor, which I had dropped to pry open the hole. "I left my weapon inside, sir, you see, I'm unarmed, just chillin'. I'm just going towards you slowly and identify both of your items, if that's cool."
"Okay," I said blandly, my eyes narrowed. "No sudden movements, though."
"You got it, sir," he said, nodding his head – or his torso, I wasn't sure 'coz he had no neck. Then, he left his sack and raised both his hands once again, walking slowly, with a confident, rolling gait. I instinctively moved back, giving him space, as he closed in on my dropped leather armor and dagger. He knelt with surprising agility and held the leather armor, murmuring incomprehensible words that seemed to vibrate the air. A magical diagram shimmered into being on the leather, glowing faintly but not too bright. He raised his right hand, thick fingers moving with delicate precision, and began twisting and moving ethereal dials within the diagram.
My curiosity got the better of me; this was too cool to waste. And he was trying to win my trust, I figured, by showing off. I decided to watch him. While he meticulously focused on twisting the magic dials, a silent, intricate dance, I went over his shoulder, watching closely the complex patterns he was making. "What are you doing?!" I said, my voice curiously like a child's, my left hand on my knee and my right hand to the sword, using it as a cane.
"What the—" he was startled, jerking back with a sudden, sharp movement, and nearly stabbed me with his humped-back spines. It was pure reflex on his part, a defensive twitch.
"Chill," I said, stepping back slightly, sword still poised. "What're you doing?"
"Oh, don't scare me like that, man! Our hearing is a hundred times more powerful than humans," he tried to clear his 'ear' with his overgrown finger, a gesture of exasperation.
"Sorry, bro," I said, the word slipping out, casual and friendly, as if talking to my friend Carlos.
"Bro?" he said, his eyeless face seeming to lighten, a subtle shift in his stance. "I always wanted a bro. Can I call you bro as well, sir?" There was a hint of almost childlike desperation, a yearning, in his suave voice.
"Sure," I said calmly.
"Yaay!" he exclaimed with a huge, almost unsettling smile that showed his crooked and heavily discolored teeth, like a happy little child, suddenly overwhelmed with joy. "I finally have a human bro!" He excitedly said. He then cleared his throat with a sound like a barfing cat, but managed to make it sound smooth. "So, bro," he said nervously, waiting for my reaction.
"Uh huh," I anticipated, raising an eyebrow, bracing myself for whatever came next.
"Identifying items depends on how old or how rare it is," he went back to dialing the magic diagram, his fingers once again dancing over the ethereal controls. "Scroll of Identification is a one-stop shop for common and newer items, but for older items, let's put it this way: the diagram is my lock pick, trying to pick the lock of this item." He continued to crank diagrams with his right hand, his humped body swaying slightly to the rhythm of his manipulations. "The older or rarer the item, the lock mechanism gets more complicated, because you don't know what things do, like reading a different language."
"Sound tricky," I said.
"It is, but I've identified similar ones before," and he clicked the last dial into place with a satisfying, almost musical thud. "Aha! Behold: Scaled Leather Vest Armor of the muffled laugh. Used by practitioners of the Unseen. Lightweight and doesn't produce a sound. An armour for the tooth of the night, swift and with a deadly bite." He said, reading the intricate description now emblazoned on the magic diagram hovering over the armor.
"It looks like it's part of a set, but the other names of the items are incomprehensible. It's not translated to modern tongue," he said, scratching his head with a long finger, a gesture of mild frustration.
I was so amazed, thinking of lockpicking in games, but lockpicking an *item's properties* sounded so much cooler. "Can I learn it, identifying?"
"Bro," he said, his voice laced with genuine regret, his hunched shoulders sagging slightly. "Sorry, I can't teach you. You need to learn basic Identification from an institute, and from there, I can show you some tips and tricks on how to use it." He explained with expansive, almost theatrical hand gestures. He handed me my vest and picked up the dagger. He mumbled, a low, guttural chant, and a magic diagram engulfed it, which he began to crank once again. "This one's easier," he said, already twisting the ethereal dials. He cranked a few more. "Behold: Dagger of poison. Created by the assassins of the north mountains. Its sharpness never fades as its poison tip. Be cautious, be vigilant; in your sleep, it drips poison." He tossed it to me like it was on fire, a gesture of pure revulsion. "I don't like poisoned items, they're poisonous, and their descriptions are no better," he said in disgust, wrinkling his non-existent nose.
He stood up slowly, a rolling, deliberate movement, while I instinctively stepped back, careful not to be impaled by his back spines. "Try your armor on, bro," he said casually as he stood, hands on his hips, grinning with that unsettling, crooked-toothed smile.
Like an excited kid receiving a new shirt, I left my sword on the ground, removed my linen shirt and my torn hoodie, living my black Tool band t-shirt on. Oh shoot, is this a trap? My heart jumped, and I looked back to Toni, anticipating an attack, but he didn't move and stood there grinning like a proud older brother giving a gift to a younger brother.
"What's wrong?" He said, tilting his head – or his humped torso, rather. "Doesn't fit?"
"No, not really," I said, a slight flush creeping up my neck. I equipped the vest, and it was a surprisingly good fit. I tried moving around; it really doesn't make any single sound even if it had metal scales up front. "Whoa, it doesn't make any sound at all," I said, thinking out loud, genuinely impressed.
"Yeah, that's one of its properties," he said proudly, his posture puffing up slightly. "Looks good on ya too, bro."
"Thanks, bro, it just looks okay," I replied, feeling my face flush even more. Is my troglodyte bro trying to flatter me? I thought, my mind racing. How can he see me though, being eyeless? Tricks of the trade, I see you, Toni, I see you.
"Now that I showed you I mean no harm, bro, can we get down to business, shall we?" he asked, his suave tone returning, hinting at a new, intriguing rhythm.
"Business?" I asked blankly.