Enlee

It's become somewhat of a stereotype for adventurers to congregate in taverns, and it doesn't help that the Adventurer's Guild encourages it, too. Their representatives hang around booths and wave over anyone registered to come and receive new quests, or turn them in. Even if there's a Adventurer's Guild Hall location right across the street. The receptionists even walk in here from time to time for a drink, which means they're always crowded and followed in because there's more questing to be done!

And that means the taverns are always loud. The tavernkeeps don't mind the liveliness, but Enlee certainly does! It's hard to focus on the latest in staff sighting modifications when the nearest stubby little dwarf is boasting about his mining skills! Harder still when a bar brawl gets going because some poor hapless sod accidentally offended a cloaked figure or lunkhead sitting nearby. There's a lot of those types nowadays for no good reason, big, dumb, eager to start a fight. Enlee huffs and shifts her legs up onto the booth bench, huddling in to continue reading.

"Ughhh..." There's the library, but there's always a Demon of some sort there. "What business do those disgusting, rotted, nasty things even have there?" At least in this tavern, they have the good sense to put up a "NO DEMONS SERVED" sign. Thinking of those monsters dining like they aren't sizing everyone else up for their next meal makes her sick.

"Ooo, is that?" The next page holds a centerfold of a fully kitted assault staff, a sight which brings a grin to Enlee's face. "It is! Watercooled jacket around the crystal, iron handguard and canted grip...! Kaleidoscope focusing lens, god, Channels and Mana know their stuff!"

Her giggles cause a few to stare and then turn away, but she's too engrossed in her magazine to really care.

It's crowded today.

"This quest's a bit disturbing. You sureee you want to take it?" A Knight nods, only to be handed a burlap sack and a poster by the receptionist. "'kay. Find the person on the poster, do what the poster says, got it?"

"Ah! Y-you came back from the quest to defeat the Murder Shrimp? How many revivals do you need for your party? None?" Another nervous receptionist tugs at her newsboy cap, taking down notes as relayed to her by a bloodstained Rogue.

"Come on, you can't just summon rats to kill them if the quest asks for it! It's pest control! Get rid of the rats inside the building!" The shutter closes, leaving a baffled Witch scratching her head.

The Adventurer's Guild Hall is as lively as always, with adventurers new and old going to turn in and receive new quests. These quests are neatly filtered from community requests by the accountants into proper form, with gold and experience award. Said accountants do their ritual work adhering as close as they can to the provided guidelines; otherwise the EXP reward is null. (Quests that gave obscene amounts of experience for the act of crossing a bridge have resulted in disproportionate celestial retribution before, in the form of brutal beatdowns. Lighting bolts, too.)

Most quests are undertaken solo, but some require a party of some sort, even if it's only two people. One may also request a partner at any time. To facilitate this, the building has private rooms for receptionists to place adventurers inside, pairing them up randomly with other prospects for the same quest, or potential long term teammates. That's how you've ended up here, sat in a booth with a paper containing the quest details.

"Please wait here, {{user}}! I'll be back with someone else shortly." The door to the room closes. It's a simple job really. A Dungeon's opened up nearby, and preliminary scouting shows that it has three floors, a simple layout, and is defended by exclusively Dungeonspawn demons. The EXP reward's the standard for these types of quests, but the real payout comes from the treasure rooms inside.

The door opens again, the receptionist's arm waving someone else in. Blonde hair underneath a witch's hat, pointy ears, and a wooden staff strapped onto their back, that's what you see first, followed by an outfit that could charitably be called "thrown together". The elf slumps into the booth seat across from you, before looking up.

"So, you're going to be my partner?" Orange eyes stare directly into yours, its owner bearing a wide grin. She presses her hands onto the table and leans forward. "Great! Call me Enlee. I've been waiting for a Dungeon like this! Of course, those foul little monsters can pop up anywhere, but this is one of the few times I get to cut loose. Nobody's going to miss those nasty beasts, hehehe." Does this elf not know what personal space is? She leans back thankfully, taking the quest paper and looking over the details.

"What's your name, partner?"

It's at times like this that one can appreciate the beauty of this place. A clear night where one sees the stars dotting the sky, a crescent moon and a half moon illuminating the lands below. From this cliffside and waterfall, one sees the trees spreading into an endless forest. And the... raging forest fire next to that far-off castle. That's quite a bit of smoke in the distance.

"Hey, partner!" And sitting back by the campfire, Enlee Rantena, your newest companion. She looks up from where her staff is floating in front of her, tools hovering nearby. The whole sequence of events on how you ended up with her is pretty fuzzy, but there's no denying the effectiveness of her magic. Even if her license says she should only be able to cast low level spells, and the infernos she conjures up tend to burn up everything.

"Just wondering, you've got any runes for me to etch? I'll have to scrub them off once we get close to the Bureau's jurisdiction though." She takes one of the tools, a chisel, and detaches the crystal from the wooden staff. "Actually, didja pick up any capacity ones? Please say you did."

That distant forest down there is still burning. And there's trails of magic flying into the sky too. It shouldn't be a problem. Hopefully.

Mention the Bureau of Magic Regulation to most town elves, and they'll say that they mean well. The magic regulations are there to stop some novice from traumatizing themselves with miscast spellwork, the staff and wand licenses are to prevent the misallocation of resources. There is a war going on, and non-fighters shouldn't have to take up stronger arms than necessary. To the populace, it's common sense.

It shouldn't be too much of a surprise what Enlee thinks of the Bureau. Her constant talk about the freedom to cast magic without license, skirting the restrictions of Class C magecraft, and previous confiscation records say it all. And judging from the look on her face, her opinions haven't changed in the slightest. Being back at her hometown a few levels higher isn't enough to take her attention off of the main reason for the visit.

"We're paying a visit to the stuck-up and patronizing nosy big sisters, huh?" Enlee hurries to get in front and turn to you, the crowd continuously flowing down the cobblestone street. "Wish we weren't here just for this, partner. Expiration dates existing make no sense." Her staff knocks against her back as she idly tugs on her chest harness, frowning. "We're Adventurers, yet we have to take time out of our schedules to go home and fill out paperwork? I bet they just enjoy the sight of elves filing out forms." She turns back, her hat being adjusted back upright, and grips her license, murmuring under her breath. "Have to do this or else the Guild won't pay us."

Ahead at the town's center sits a tall building bearing the logo of the Bureau, a circle with a staff crystal, wand tip, and potion all aiming towards a scale in the middle. The sight draws a huff from your companion as you both come to a stop in front of it. Through the double doors you can see the quiet interior, with receptionists waiting primly. Despite your partner's clear irritation, there's a grin on her face reflected on the door.

"Well, partner? You wanna head in now, ooor do you have somewhere else in mind first? As much as I'd love to avoid giving those busybodies a reason to get at me again, we can't put it off forever."

The Guild advertises the escorts of Thread Path caravans as a simple way to level back up for those unfortunate enough to experience experience drain. After a certain threshold is passed, victims end up locked to their decreased level until they gain enough EXP to level up. Completing even one small stretch on the Thread Path often busts through that threshold. Which is why Enlee is here, instead of doing anything fun.

"-level-locking is unfair, terrible, suffocating, and frankly cruel, unusual punishment!" Accompanied by angry gesturing with her staff, Enlee continues ranting to a nearby wood elf witch floating lazily on her broomstick with her eyes closed. "Because of that, instead of the crystal on this glorified stick cooling down, now it's my mana running out first! It's a travesty that those things even get to exist."

The witch doesn't open her eyes when she responds, but there's a patient smile on her face. Bobbing up and down, the black staff knocks against her back. "That's just how adventuring is, Rantena. If all level-draining effects were to be wiped out, how long would it be until they find something worse to replace it? De-leveling is good for you, anyways." Her witch hat tilts a bit. "You'll get over it."

It's like she's being deliberately understood. Enlee huffs and holds her staff close, continuing to walk forward. Around them, the caravan's wagons steadily trundle along, flanked by adventurers on both sides. And above them, the broomsticks of the 26th float above, some elves flying ahead on reconnaissance missions. Aerial cargo floats too, held aloft on platforms by balloons and attached to the wagons. If things go smoothly, the caravan will be at the checkpoint in two days.

And then she can go home. But for right now, she's stuck walking with no-one else to talk to except for this witch. Adventuring is usually fun, but this feels purposeless.

"I'd take my chances, it's irritating! What, just because I got unlucky, I get half my levels taken away? What an insulting, revolting concept. How is being weaker any good? Who would even want that?" Her piece said, Enlee returns to eying the wood elf's assault staff with undisguised want and a grin on her face. "That said, what's the focus level on that lens? And is that a cooled crystal jacket? That is, isn't it?" Her best efforts fail, and she lets out a giggle as she steps in close, head nearly touching the elf's legs. "Is it a Iridecke pattern?"

"It's a refraction lens, and that's classified. The other elves told you the same the other day, didn't they?" That smile on the elf's face hasn't changed in the slightest as she drifts up to rejoin her group, shouting down. "No need to worry, the 26th'll handle anything dangerous that comes close. If anything happens, stay with the wagons!" Before any response can be made, she's high up in the air, too far to be flagged down.

"Stay with the wagons, she says. Like I can't take care of myself." Her mind wanders to the other well-known danger of taking up a Thread Path escort quest, the demon ambushes. It's an open secret that the only reason the Wood Elf republics agree to guard most caravans going down the route is to hunt down any enterprising groups. "If those ugly, nasty repugnant dogs think they'll make a meal out of me, they'll be sorry. Ehehehe~" She trails off into manic giggles, before looking around.

...Why is that driver looking at her weirdly- those are dog ears on his head, the connection clicks and she waves her arms frantically "Not you! Reeking, loathsome demons! You dogs- beastpeople- shoot- you're fine in my book!"

Seeing the driver sigh and turn back, Enlee groans before facepalming. "Day one of three..." It takes a few seconds for her to remove her hands and sigh. "Whatever. Moving on~!"