Yes, change it.
[An Understanding]
[Gives you the ability to extort maximum amount of labour, if an individual can’t pay for goods and services]
[Only effective inside Safezone]
——
[Details added as followed]
[Exchange labour for minimum wage, if an individual can’t pay for goods and services]
[No mind-control]
Perfect.
I mean, not perfect perfect… whatever. I’m not a saint—I’m running a business here.
I essentially rendered the skill into a form of low pay employment… like a 7/11 worker.
One problem at a time Greg.
Wood-guy was more… focused now.
“What I mean to say is that I’m happy to help out. Considering our history and all.”
“Same here, though I think we should get a bit of compensation though.” The Cobweb-thug added.
I raised my hands in mocking surrender, but pointed one of my fingers to the nearby hole in the wall.
“I run this Safezone, which means there’s an image to uphold.” I paused, pocketing said hands and walking over to my “lemonade-stand” of an entry desk.
“You broke my wall, and since you can’t pay—I’ll offer you fair wages in return for labour… if it exceeds the damage that is.”
Wood-guy was the first to respond, again.
“What’s the cost?” His eyes slightly narrowing at the inviting hole in my plaster wall.
“You owe me 5 gold for that, not considering the fact you’re currently staying in my Safezone as non-paying patrons. But I’ll let that slide for now, since you brought me the planks.” Pointing at the fairly pristine looking boards… with some suspicion.
Best not to ask too many questions—I might not like the answer.
I nervously gulped a bit at the thought of these two thugs ransacking some poor merchant of some sort and then bringing the theft to my door.
“Right you are, chief.” Wood-guy responded, grabbing a few planks, as he started to carefully place them next to the damaged ones.
Man, this will look like some crooked-as-shit chessboard. All mismatched… eugh.
“You got a saw of some sorts? Otherwise this’ll be hard to fit.” Wood-guy added, pointing out his lack of tools.
I did have some tools in the garage. Mostly rusted shit or power-tools they wouldn’t be able to use anyway.
So I gave him a raised finger(no not that kind) and proceeded to gather some basic tools from my father’s remaining possessions.
The tool-bag varied from stained hammers to partially rusted screwdrivers…and a saw.
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“Here you go—don’t break them!”
The man nodded and got on with it, while the other thug came up to me, and started to negotiate.
“5 gold is a bit steep for a broken piece of wall, don’t you think?”
It occurred to me that I would have to find a way to incentivise the unwilling into repaying their debts. Since mind-control was now off the table.
“It’s not steep, but I’m willing to offer alternatives.” Looking back to the 2 large bags of gold near the kitchen entrance.
There’s something psychologically calming about seeing large stacks of money… in whatever forms it comes in.
Makes you feel more generous and all.
“How about, instead of working for the 5 gold coins, I offer my services outside this Safezone instead?” The cobweb-thug smugly announced.
Isn’t that the same as working in here?
But there was a slight hiccup in that option—I couldn’t enforce it outside my house.
“And what’s to stop you, or anyone for that matter, to just… go back on your word?”
The man chuckled.
“Greg was it?” He laughed some more, pointing at himself and his woodworking counterpart.
“We’re adventurers, and believe it or not. That dragon-lady was actually a quest.”
Ok shithead, not sure why you’re giving me fresh ammunition to reinstate some form of mind-control—or at least give you “these hands.”
“Your point being?” I muttered through an adequate amount of rage.
“It means that we’re bound by a code.”
“If a quest isn’t completed, the quest-giver assumes one of 3 things: 1, the adventurer perished.
- The adventurer abandoned the quest, or 3. The Adventurer was given a better deal to do the opposite of the quest's intention.”
So adventurers here are more like mercenaries… cool.
“Don’t see how that makes you more trustworthy.” I scoffed, slowly walking back to the kitchen to fancy a snack.
The man following me like an environmentalist through a shopping-centre.
“It’s obvious you’re not a conventional man to our standards. So let me explain a more important part.”
His hand revealing a metal like dog-tag beneath his shirt.
“Our adventurer rank.”
Kind of duh at this point…
“So?”
“It’s an emblem of our devotion to the cause.” He scoffed as I raised my eyebrows.
“If we fail in any way shape or form, these start to turn in colour.”
Noticing the fact that his was copper coloured.
Again, very on brand.
Though I should probably ask how that works.
“So the bottom line is, we had to complete that dragon-girl quest, and as unfortunate as it was… we always complete our work.”
Unless someone paid you better…
I had casually grasped one of the chocolate bars from my shopping bags, the ones still strewn across the floor and continued my conversation through chocolate-infused dopamine spikes.
“Are you going to monologue all day, or are you going to sell me that bridge already?”
The man looking slightly perplexed.
“Not sure about bridges, but like I said before—service for hire inside the dungeon.”
I don’t even know how… wait.
System, can I offer up quests for adventurers?
*Ding*
[Finally asked the right question]
[Prerequisite met]
[Quest Board has been unlocked and can be built through the storefront]
I snake-ate the remaining chocolate bar and started swiping through the menu options, revealing said Quest Board item.
Neat, if only I actually knew what to fucking post.
Like on cue, the man interjected.
“Since you look fairly green behind the ears, I’ll offer some insight for the questing system—for a fee.”
I sighed internally. Of course he would gate-keep.
“Let me guess… the outstanding damage cost?”
The once OCD-Cobweb-guy was way more focused than ever, and apparently incredibly cocky now.
“How awfully perceptive of you Greg, but you’re wrong—it’s double.”
Course it is.