Tristan

Tristan emerged from the enormous crimson door near where they'd all entered the raid, deep in the heart of Perpetua. Around him was the constant hum of the City of Cities, now even louder, as many more people had filed in. With just a look, he counted no fewer than four other raid groups that all looked to be approaching the entrance. There was something fresh and lively about them, as if they were excited for the danger they were all about to put themselves into.

It's the promise of loot and glory, he thought, understanding all too well how addictive it could be. He did see that one group in particular looked more nervous than the others. A quick set of [Identify] scans revealed that they only averaged level 15--a fair bit lower than Tristan's own group when they had entered.

I hope they know what they're doing. Or at least avoid the hard modes.

He spotted Opie, Chessa, and Sophie standing a few paces from the doors and moved to join them. They seemed in good spirits, without a hint of the sadness that had started to creep into Tristan's belly when he'd seen them standing together idly like that. He couldn't help but recognize that their time together was likely coming to an end. It had been a lot of fun running with Opie and Chessa again, and he wasn't sure when the next time he'd see them again would be.

Sophie seemed curious, too, and asked, "So what are you two planning to do next?"

Chessa glanced at Opie with a sly smile. "I was kind of hoping to head home for a little while. You know, enjoy the quiet life a bit more before the big push to Tier 3?"

"That sounds nice," Opie said, "but I definitely will want to push to Tier 3 eventually. I don't want to stagnate like so much of Woodsedge, especially not after this. It was good experience, but I think I prefer the smaller groups. Less people standing in fire that way, you know?"

While they'd been talking, Tristan had noticed that Drannis had emerged from the huge dungeon door portal and begun walking toward them, but apparently he'd been stopped. He was now engaged in a fairly lively conversation with...

Oh gods. You've got to be kidding.

Tristan recognized the man immediately. He'd seen that winking face and thumbs-up pose at the start of every dungeon guide he'd ever read. Admittedly, this man was a bit older than those pictures, and noticeably more portly, but there was no mistaking Dungeon Delver Dave. He was even wearing a similar, horribly-outdated blue jumpsuit with yellow trim.

Tristan had once trusted the man's every word as if it had come from his father. He'd read and reread so many of his guides now... only to find they were riddled with misinformation, and sometimes overlooked whole parts of an encounter. Now bitterness tended to rise in him whenever anyone so much as mentioned the man's name--and here Dungeon Delver Dave was in person.

I'll just ignore him, he told himself, clenching his fist. But then Drannis waved at them and began escorting Dave over to them.

"Tristan, Chessa, everyone, let me introduce someone quite special!" the dwarf shouted, already beaming.

As they approached, it was all Tristan could do to keep his face blank. He could already hear their raid leader talking excitedly.

"...Indeed, as I was saying, I am a Dwarf of the Petrified Woods."

"And did I see you emerge from the Cinderbark's Fall raid?" the guide-writer asked. "I gather you were victorious, based on your smiles. Would you like to recount your experiences and strategies from the raid? I'll credit you, of course!"

Drannis clearly loved the attention and immediately launched into a lengthy retelling with far too much detail given just for their opening boss fight.

Dave had pulled out an old school pen and notepad and was scribbling constantly. "So you chose the hardmode encounter right off the bat?" Dave verified, the grin on his face growing with every answer Drannis provided.

Tristan tried to lose himself in his Status by going over his new gains again. But he couldn't really focus on that with Dungeon Delver Dave chatting loudly mere paces away.

Sophie: Are you alright?

Tristan tried to smile at her, and not wanting to outright lie replied:

Tristan: I'll be fine.

He hoped it was more convincing than he felt it was. Based on how Sophie kept looking at him with clear concern, he must not have succeeded.

"We actually decided not to enter the ooze trail," Drannis continued on.

The pen was moving rapidly again. "Ah, then you don't know if you had any variants down that pathway... Though you will have faced the harder encounter at Cinderbark herself! What about in the Barren Grove? Did you encounter anything unusual leading up to or including the Cinder Wyvern, or the Unchained Hydra?"

By this point Manama, Kitara, and Xanax had also gathered around. Almost the entire raid was there, in fact, with two notable exceptions: Cross and Laura were nowhere to be seen.

Delicately, Sophie answered, "We had issues, but that was more within our own party. It wasn't anything the raid did to us."

"Ah, inter-party drama," the guidemaker replied, shaking his head as he sighed. "I've heard too many reports of runs that end that way. Well, actually they tend to end in serious injury or worse whenever inter-party drama rears its ugly head."

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed.

Dave shattered it with overwhelming enthusiasm. "Anyway, back to my original question: did you encounter any variations in the standard running of the raid? Not that I expect any, mind you, as our research is fairly conclusive--"

Unable to hold himself back, Tristan scoffed.

Dave turned to face him. "Oh, are you all right, young man? Do you have something to add?"

Before he could reply, and perhaps because of the look that darkened his face, Opie stepped in between him and Dave. "You'll have to excuse him. He's just had some--well, several--bad encounters with variants."

Dave's face lit up. "Variants! And did you say 'several'?" He glanced past Opie toward Tristan, his curiosity clearly rising. "And only level 19, to boot! Please, swordsmith, which dungeon variants have you experienced? I absolutely must know. It's always so exciting to hear reports on variants!"

Noticing his friend's reluctance, Opie cleared his throat and repositioned himself between the guidemaker and Tristan. "I can tell you about the one we went through outside Woodsedge."

Dave lifted a finger to his temple and squinted his eyes. "Would that be the Acrid Crypts? With the Splitting Ooze?"

"Yes," Chessa said, also stepping forward. "Not a goblin to be seen, but oozes everywhere, and that Splitting Ooze boss split twice for us, by the way."

"Twice?! Goodness, that's great to know! I'll have to add that to my notes for the next edition--and credit you, of course. What are your names?"

Opie and Chessa gave each other worried looks before Chessa said, "I'm Chessa Klimenta, and he's Opie--"

"Just Opie," the healer cut in.

Dave was writing again and repeated, "'Just Opie.' Any other party members?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be me," Tristan said. "It was my first dungeon run."

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Dave was now glancing past the couple and leaning toward Tristan again. "Indeed, indeed! And wow! That's a mighty fine looking greatsword! The perspective of melee DPS isn't one we tend to hear very often. Would you be willing to answer a few questions, too?"

Tristan just shook his head slowly. "You really don't want my opinion," he managed to say.

"Nonsense! Whatever you have to say, I'd be delighted to hear. Especially if you started with your name..."

"Tristan," he supplied, "and all I'd give you is criticism."

Dave's head tilted slightly. "Why, I'm always delighted to hear criticism! How else can I improve?"

Tristan met the man's eyes and held them, trying to decide if the man really meant what he said. An increasingly large part of Tristan wanted nothing more than to tell Dave everything he had to say. Instead, he decided to begin lightly, at least at first.

"Right. When was the last time you went into a dungeon or raid yourself, instead of just gathering other peoples' stories?"

The group grew very quiet as eyes shifted back to Dave.

"Well I used to, of course, but the time commitments grew rather untenable. Besides, I wasn't ever that good in raids. My Path isn't one of violence, you see, but one of helping others. I'd rather be listening to, compiling, and writing about others' experiences!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't claim such certainty in your guides."

The words had slipped out of Tristan's mouth before he'd realized it, and now Dave's face had twisted to genuine concern.

"Whatever do you mean? But I am certain! I've got thousands of responses! That's thousands of data points. For some raids, like the one behind you, I've collected hundreds of testimonials, and those are all from separate instances!"

"Right. And that makes you certain?" Tristan wanted to spit the last word out. But he didn't have anything on Kitara's new pants, right Chessa?"

The huntress nodded. "Not a thing. I triple-checked."

"New pants? From which boss, and what do they--?"

Tristan cut him off. "And how is it that you're missing any information on there being a Rockmoor Cemetery variant? You basically brag about how certain you are that it has none, but I'm living proof you're wrong!"

Dave looked started, and it took him a few seconds to compose himself as several thoughts practically danced across his face. "I assure you, young man, I haven't heard anything about that dungeon having a variant before now. But did you say you've experienced it? I've compiled dozens of--"

"I know," Tristan cut him off. "I read your guide. Cover to cover. I studied it before I placed a single toe inside those gates. Didn't matter." He forced himself to open his clenched hands and exhale, trying to calm down. He needed to be thinking clearly for this.

Dave's eyes were wide. "You really experienced a variant of the Rockmoor Cemetery?"

"Yeah, I did. And it was hardly the same at all. I barely survived."

"That's phenomenal news! You have to tell me everything! I've never heard of a variant for that dungeon!"

"You know why you've never heard of it?! Because it was almost totally different from the normal one--and deadly! The people who experienced any variant there probably died. It was a nightmare--literally at one point! Anyone going in there and finding that variant, if they've used your guide to prepare, would be just as unprepared as I was! You peddle your information, selling us on the fact that you know everything, but you don't!"

Tristan looked down at his own shaking hands, and took a couple deep breaths, striving for control. Luckily no one tried to interrupt him.

"You need to admit that you don't know it all in the blessed guide," he eventually continued. "If you don't remind people of that, if you don't tell people that there might be differences and that they need to be diligent, then the ones who blindly trust you will die, and that'll be your fault!"

"Look, I hear what you're saying, but those adventurers need to bear some responsibility, too--"

Tristan cut him off again. "That only matters if they live! If they die, who bears the brunt of that, huh? You want to push the blame onto the dead? Your guides need a disclaimer, a reminder that they can't just trust you. They have to be ready for differences. Because you don't. Know. Everything!"

"I don't claim to know everything! I just have lots of data points--"

"From survivors."

"Yes, obviously. And I am always up front about where I gather my information from." He looked away from Tristan, spreading his gaze to all the others around the circle, and those beyond it. "I never claimed to know everything..."

But none of the others seemed interested in jumping in the middle of this debate.

"Right," Tristan said, "but you do claim to be certain, and because your name is so spotless, because you're so trusted... Here, I'll tell you something I've never told anyone, at least not all of it. I've been in three different dungeons that I read your guides on, and all three had something wrong."

Dave sputtered a little, but there was something in his eyes that showed that perhaps he had truly heard what Tristan said. It was almost like he was trying to decide what to do, or how to respond at all.

"You need to add a disclaimer," Tristan repeated. "It's the least you can do. Maybe then you'll get all those reports of the variants you claim to want to hear about--because fewer people will die in them."

It was now clear from the reddening of the man's face and the tightening of his jaw that Dave didn't like what he was hearing, but another look around the circle of raiders showed that they had hardened against him and were firmly on Tristan's side.

"It is not an unreasonable request," Xanax said, "and such an inclusion would help those who are less likely to think for themselves. Is that not itself worth consideration?"

Dave tried several different starts before settling on, "Well we won't be printing any retractions, that much is clear! Perhaps in new editions--"

"Perhaps?" Kitara asked. "Only perhaps?" She jerked backward as if physically struck, and when she spoke next, she raised her voice enough that those all the way across the room would be able to hear her too. "I thought you said your Path was to help others, Dungeon Delver Dave, or was I mistaken?"

Matching his volume while strumming a series of minor chords on his lute, Manama offered, "Perhaps Dungeon Delver Dave's become more of a salesman since he stopped actively delving the dangerous dungeons himself. Perhaps I'll have to delay singing about our legendary conquest in the raid, in order to make sure the true tale of Dave is heard."

The entertainer's comment caught the attention of several other people around. Even more heads were beginning to turn their direction, and Tristan noted how several of them had begun quietly whispering amongst themselves.

"Really!" Dave said, blustering, "what you're asking is for me to spit all over my long-established brand!"

"No," Tristan corrected, managing to rein in his anger, "I'm saying that you need to warn people about the dangers of the unknowably-many things you don't know you don't know!"

Honestly, Tristan wasn't sure how that had sounded, but he knew what he'd meant, and it seemed like the others were nodding along with him. Only Opie had given him an incredulous grin and slight head shake before nodding along.

Beside him, Drannis thumped his shield on the ground and cleared his throat. All eyes turned his way. "Without such a clause proclaiming and warning others of your uncertainties, and of course the dangers therein, the Petrified Woods will no longer be using your guides."

There was a quick lull as the declaration sank in. It was now clear that, all around them, lots of people were listening to this discussion.

So when, a moment later, all the others around the circle loudly voiced their agreement with the dwarf--and Tristan--it brought some peace to the smith's heart.

He decided to step up and meet Dave half way, giving him some credit. "Look, Dave, you're not the kind of bad person that deliberately misleads people, and from what I hear a lot of what you write has helped a lot of people. Not me so much, but others." He tried to laugh to soften the blow. "But you've got to stop letting others believe you have it all figured out. It can lead to too many other problems."

After a moment and with a dejected sigh, the guide-writer's shoulders slumped. "Perhaps you're right. I suppose it's been too long since I had any major issues with my guides. I might have overlooked that there were any... problems, as you say, in my guides. Until now."

Poof, from within Sophie's arm right at Tristan's side, gave a disappointed-sounding "Meeeee-eeep."

"Well said," Sophie agreed.

I have got to learn her language, Tristan reminded himself, feeling that he'd just missed some truly scathing burn against his longtime frustration.

Tristan turned to walk away, and Dave perked up.

"Wait, Tristan, won't you at least tell me about the Rockmoor Cemetery?"

"I guess it depends on what you do going forward. If things change, I'll write to you."

Drannis nodded. "Indeed. I hope to see some action come of your words, Dave." He scrutinized the taller human with narrowed eyes. "We of the Petrified Woods shall be watching."

And with that, the rest of Tristan's raid group walked away, with the gathered crowd along with them.

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