Zalin knew he was on the right track. Though he had never heard of this quest in all of his studies he was excited for it begin. He opened the quest menu and clicked on the quest titled "The Gates of the Shadowlands".
"Quest: The Gates of the Shadowlands
Quest Time Limit: No Restrictions
Prerequisite: Obtain Death's Remorse
Current Quest Objective: Complete the City of the Lost
Shadows Dungeon ( Lvl. 15 required )
Quest Reward: Twilight Stone
He closed the menu and looked up. I have work to do he thought to himself. To reach level fifteen he would need to finish his current objectives, gather more quests, and obtain better armor and weapons along the way before entering the dungeon. He thanked the Merchant once again and wandered off down the road to complete his preparations.
He needed some armor but none yet had caught his eye, further up the road he recognized a sign hanging from a small shoppe. The sign had the symbol of a sprout growing from the ground etched into a wooden slab, and hung from a long pole protruding from the building. An herbalist shoppe. Just what he needed, he thought to himself. This would be the only place to buy the specific ingredients he needed to make poisons and the also the possibility of finding a teacher to apprentice him as a Poison Crafter. He made his way slowly up the sloping street towards the shoppe, ignoring other vendors apart from the occasional armor stall. He knew though that in most games like this he could earn armor by completing quests, so holding off the was best idea for saving money for now.
Before Zalin realized it he was standing at the front gates of the Herbalist Shoppe. He walked through the open gate and up the stone steps. He knocked on the high arched doors and waited.
"Come in, come in." An elderly woman's voice answered from within.
He pushed the heavy wooden doors open and entered the building. Herbs of all sorts lined the tables, while empty flasks, potions, burners and all manner of herbalist tools could be found lining the walls corner to corner. And behind a counter at the far back wall stood an old lady with cane. Her long rough spun robe hung around her neck and over her humped back concealing everything but her hand holding her can, long white hair fell to her ankles, and icy blue eyes stared at him through narrow slit. Her indicator showed her to be a level eighty-five NPC named Old Hag Frostbloom. He smiled sheepishly beneath his mask.
"Are you looking or buying," nagged the old lady.
"Neither, I wish to be your apprentice," replied Zalin, meeting the Old Hag's gaze.
"You haven't met the requirements boy, come back when you're a little stronger and I'll consider it for the right price." the old hag snorted and when about tidying up.
"Oh, I have one more question Madame Frostbloom," said Zalin politely.
"I'm listening," it was apparent her patients were running thin.
"Where may I find the local Alchemist?" he asked with as much respect as he could muster.
Madame Frostbloom glared at him and smiled a toothless grin.
"Down the street and to the left, can't miss it, now scram." she spat at the ground towards him and he rushed out the door.
Zalin headed in the direction she suggested by the Old Hag and followed it down to an area less populated by NPCs. He had wandered into an open garden-like setting, black thornbushes with dark green leaves surrounding a central gazebo, a path led off towards the right, left, and straight. What a beautiful place this is, he thought to himself as he walked through the garden admiring the black roses growing wildly from the bush. He reached out to touch one of the roses and it's thorn pricked his finger.
The world around wavered for a moment and vanished, only to be replaced by four briar patches with a concrete walkthrough. Had he been under some kind of spell? The sharp pain of from the briar thorn prick must've been what snapped him out of it. He passed through the briar patches carefully and followed the left hand path leading out to a dirt road. At the end of the dirt road was a three story black building with a black wooden sign hanging from a long metal poll by chain. Etched in gold upon the sign was image of a beaker with a metal rod and golden bar behind it. The Alchemist Guild.