The Crafter's Dungeon: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 1) Jonathan Brooks (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

trying to find out where you were so that I could learn about the Vampiric Siphon technique.  You’re the only one I know of that can do it, and I’ve made it my mission to learn everything I can about crafting techniques.”

Dramien was silent for a few moments as he supposedly absorbed what she had said.  “You…wanted to know how the technique works?  So that you could…what?  Perform it yourself?  Sell it to the highest bidder?  Bring the Order down on my head?”

What does the Order of Heroes have to do with anything?  As far as she knew, the Order was responsible for culling the monsters that spawned from the numerous dungeons across the land, reducing their power and threat level until it built back up again.  Many of her father’s weapons and armor were purchased by these same Heroes in those endeavors, so she knew them pretty well.  At least, she thought she did; apparently, though, they must’ve had something to do with this creepy Dramien fellow.

“No, nothing like that.  As you probably saw, my hands aren’t really suitable for any type of crafting, and I don’t have a lick of magical power inside of me.  I…learn these crafting techniques as more of a hobby, I guess.  I don’t sell the techniques and recipes I learn, I just enjoy the knowledge,” she finally replied after she worked on getting enough moisture on her tongue.

Sandra had been practically obsessed with crafting since she was eight years old. Which was the first time that she had watched, fascinated, as a blacksmith turned a small bar of iron into a knife, which he then gave to her as a gift.  Her father promptly took it away – because she was a child – but it was the gift of the knowledge that mattered to her anyway.  From there, she spent the next eighteen years searching out different techniques used in the making of weapons, armor, potions, salves, and other items – all without being able to utilize them herself.

She tried repeatedly to craft, but soon realized that all but the simplest tasks were beyond her ability handle with her deformed hands.  Sandra couldn’t even create things that didn’t require manual dexterity, like magical enchantments, because she didn’t have any magical power to tap inside of her.  However, she learned them anyway, as she could still see how the different secret techniques were performed; she could now identify an enchantment based upon the color/shade of the magic, the intensity, and even the placement of the effect on the item it was attached to, even if she couldn’t do it herself.

The only thing she could do was make low-grade alchemical potions and salves, as they didn’t need much in the way of dexterity or strength.  In fact, the low-grade healing salve that she had put on her wound earlier was crafted by her, though she had some help from her father to place it in the jars.  Anything more powerful than that usually needed some sort of magical component to it, which she couldn’t supply.

Dramien made a noise that sounded like he was choking.  After a moment, he made it again – though louder that time – which was quickly followed by another.  Is he laughing?  Soon, it was all too obvious that it was indeed what the mysterious man was doing as a full-fledged chuckle escaped his lips – and then he continued with a deep-voiced laughter that seemed to cut through the pain in Sandra’s limbs and vibrated her insides.

“You…you were looking for me because of a…a hobby?” he managed to ask in between laughs.  “A…a hobby?” Dramien laughed out loud for another minute before he abruptly cut it off.  Silence reigned over the room as Sandra strained herself to get a look at him, but all she could see was a dark-colored robe covering what she thought were his feet.

“Please, I didn’t mean any harm by it.  Just let me go and I will forget I ever knew your name – and you can trust me not to tell anybody anything!  I haven’t shared a single secret technique to—” Sandra begged and pleaded, before being interrupted by a sharp knife blade against her throat.  She hadn’t even heard or seen him move; one moment he was across the room, and the next he was by her side.  She didn’t dare try to get a better look at him now, though, because she had a feeling that one wrong move would end up with her slitting her own throat.

“As strange as your story sounds, I actually believe you.  I have a feeling that you really wouldn’t tell anyone about me and what I do here.”

Sandra let out a long sigh of relief, though she was careful to not disturb the knife at her throat.  She relaxed even more when said knife was removed…but then she heard a sword sliding free of a sheath.  Her father had removed countless swords and knives from their sheathes in order to show prospective buyers over the years – the sound was unmistakable to her ears.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as the sword flashed in front of her face.

“Hmm?  Oh, this?  I just wanted to show you my ‘hobby’,” Dramien told her, as he placed the sword in the middle of the stone “bath” below with a gloved hand.  “And, as a bonus, you’ll be able to say you’ve learned how to do my special Vampiric Siphon technique.”

Suddenly, a stream of magic flowed from his gloved hand and encircled the exquisite-looking sword, which was likely forged by a master blacksmith.  It was too dim in the room to make out many details, but she almost thought she recognized the maker’s mark on the hilt…before it was swallowed up in what appeared to be the dark reddish-black of Nether energy.

Despite her situation, Sandra’s continued infatuation with crafting in any shape or