Player Reborn 2

by Deck Davis

  Meanwhile, Rolley lacked a long-range weapon and had to rely on his roguish agility. Tripp had seen plenty of rogues before in Soulboxe. Just like with thieves and assassins, he was always impressed by the speed of their movements. Higher level rogues moved so fast they were a blur.

  Rolley was less practiced than some, but he was quick enough to keep his scourge out of striking distance.

  Tripp retreated to the corner of the room, where he took out four of the iron swords he’d bought in Windborne. The handles were made from undecorated wood, and their blades were dull. These weren’t swords made by a proud smithy. They were apprentice-level work, and they were made in bulk for the army recruits. No self-respecting master of his craft would call a sword like this his own creation. No soldier with a sense of self-preservation would use one.

  Now wasn’t the time for pride or pickiness. Tripp was about to employ an altogether different kind of artificery. The do-it-or-die kind.

  He tuned out the yells of his party, the scuffles of their feet, the roar of the scourge’s fire.

  Strapping his goggles over his head, he saw the artificery holes gouged into the swords. These blades were so basic that they had just one circular and one octagonal hole. One effect could be put into each weapon.

  Tripp took his ice-troll essence from his inventory and quickly artificed these into the octagonal hole in each blade. He could only finish artificing two of the blades when a message jolted him.

  Cannot craft; manus depleted

  Damn it; he knew using Underlay so much would bite him on the ass. He’d have to be more sparing this time.

  He eyed his newly-artificed swords. It was rough, imprecise work. Outside of the tower, he’d have just started over.

  No time for that now.

  Item created: [Poor] Iron Ice-Damage Sword x2

  He took off his goggles and let the room come into view, allowing the sounds and the light to reach him again.

  Rolley was on his back, his face scorched, a scourge advancing on him with flames flickering from its form.

  Barnard and Etta were side by side. Barnard had dropped his staff, and Etta jabbed wildly with her spear.

  “Etta!” shouted Tripp, and he threw an ice sword to them, where it landed by their feet. “This is artificed for ice damage. It’ll cause critical damage to fire.”

  To give her time to pick up her sword, Tripp ran at the scourge nearest to them. He sunk his ice blade deep into its back, further and further until flames teased across his knuckles.

  Backstab!

  Ice damage!

  Critical hit!

  The scourge spread its arms out wide, screamed, and sank to its knees. Tripp’s blade cracked and then fell apart like smashed ice, falling to the ground in hundreds of pieces.

  That was what happened when quick artificery met low-quality metal.

  “You’ll only get one use,” he said, equipping his flagellation flail.

  Trusting Etta and Barnard with two scourges, Tripp turned to Rolley. He had backed away on his ass until he was up against the wall, with a scourge ready to attack him.

  Holding his flagellation flail, Tripp steeled himself for the pain that was to come. He breathed in, raised the flail, and then he stuck himself in the stomach as hard as he could.

  A sharp flood of agony shocked through him, before his Defenseweave armor artificery worked, taking what it could of the damage and turning it into a healing mist. It could only convert 60%, meaning Tripp had still taken a chunk of damage.

  Just as his armor tried to heal him, his flail took the damage and stored it as an energy, ready for him to release. The weapon thrummed with power now. Tripp could feel it reverberate over his knuckles, hand, and to his wrist.

  He aimed for the scourge’s neck but it lurched forward just before the spikes met fiery bone. It lunged for Rolley.

  “Tripp!” shouted Etta.

  He turned in time to see a flaming hand reaching for him, and he didn’t have a chance to move before it seized his throat.

  Pain throttled over his neck and then his chin as fire caught on his beard and spread outwards. His instinctive reaction was to drop his flail and then push the scourge away. The slightest contact burned him and dropped his health points further.

  With space between them now, he put his hands to his face and tried to smother the flames.

  Rolley screamed. As Tripp batted the flames on his face he saw the scourge straddling the rogue, biting and scratching. It didn’t care how it destroyed him, just as long as it did.

  He heard a clanging sound. A scourge charged at Etta, hitting her chest and driving her against the wall, hard enough to disarm her.

  Tripp reached for the ice sword on the floor as his own scourge grasped for him again.

  Lacking rogue agility, Tripp dropped to his knees. He was only just quick enough for the scourge to miss his throat. It grabbed his hair and pulled, and he felt the heat on his scalp.

  All he could see now was the scourge’s burning frame. He grasped for the sword, touching only the floor.

  Rolley shouted for help. Etta said something, but Tripp couldn’t hear what.

  Flames tore through his hair and burned his scalp.

  And then he felt cool metal against his fingertips. The coldness was a better feeling than he could ever remember.

  He got a better grip of the ice sword and then swung it upwards in an uppercut motion, piercing the scourge’s chin.

  The scourge screamed. Tripp’s sword cracked and shattered, and he felt the shards of ice tinkled onto his face. He smelled burning hair and ash and spent fire in the air now.

  Across from him, Etta pushed her scourge away, grunted through the pain, and grabbed her spear.

  Tripp joined her as Barnard looked on helplessly. He and the minotaur beat the scourge to death with flail and spear.

  This left just one. Now, fueled by fear and anger, Tripp and Etta dispatched it in seconds.

  With that the room was silent, save the sound of Barnard’s boots echoing as he ran to Rolley. Etta took deep, wheezing breaths. Tripp took one of his own. He breathed in a gust of scourge smoke, the taste so foul that he spluttered until his chest hurt.

  CHAPTER 19

  The only signs that the scourges had been there were the four piles of ash on the floor. The air smelled of fire. The residual heat, lacking ventilation, kept the room too warm and made Tripp wish his suit wasn’t made out of metal.

  Barnard took one of his potions from his satchel, uncorked it, and put it to his friend’s lips.

  “Drink it all, don’t save any,” he said.

  Rolley groaned. “I feel like crap. How do I look?”

  “Like crap.”

  Rolley tried a chuckle but even that sent him into a coughing fit. When he lifted his hands to his mouth, Tripp felt his breath catch in his throat.

  “Rolley. Your hands.”

  The rogue’s hands were charred so black they looked like the leftover pieces of coal after a barbeque.

  “I reached into the flames,” said Rolley. “Tried to pry apart its bones.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “It hurt mildly at the time. I’d be a little more concerned about it if we weren’t in Soulboxe.

  Check your combat notifications,” said Tripp. “For your hands to stay that way after drinking a potion, it has to mean something.”

  Etta went from ash pile to ash pile, collecting loot in a pile in the center of the room, ready for the loot auction.

  Tripp opened his character screen. His manus had regenerated by 25%. Between the scourge grasping his throat and having to use his flagellation flail on himself, he was down to 45% health.

  Needing better news, he checked his post-fight notifications.

  You have leveled up to level 24!

  - HP Increased to 556

  -Manus Increased to 325

  - 5 lootpoints gained [Total: 55]

  Please choose a stat to add [1] attribute point to:

  Powe
r [3]

  Mind [8]

  Technique [12]

  Artificery leveled up to Tin 5!

  - Artificery hole unlocked; Utility [square]

  This was great! Reading the description in detail, Tripp learned that his artificery game had changed.

  Until now, all he could do was add damage or resistance to something. Unlocking the square utility hole meant that he’d been able to do something else with his artificery. He wasn’t quite sure what, yet, but it would be fun to try it out. He could already add defense and offense effects to things, so what did utility mean?

  “Tripp, we have a problem,” said Etta, breaking him from his stat sheet. Tripp loaded his level-up point into his mind skill, boosting it to 9, and then turned his attention to the others.

  Rolley held up his hands. They looked like black oven mitts, except they were covered in red liquid as well.

  “We thought putting a health potion on his skin might help it,” said Barnard.

  “You look great,” Tripp said. “Anything in your notifications?”

  Rolley nodded. “Let me show you. I’ll give you access to all my notifications from here on out.”

  “Maybe we should all do that,” said Barnard. “It can’t hurt to share information.”

  Tripp thought about it for a second, and he could see the sense in it. “Agreed.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” said Etta.

  “Why?

  “I don’t know you guys. Not really. And sharing all our screens? I don’t know.”

  “Are you saying you don’t trust us?” asked Rolley.

  “Maybe we shouldn't trust her,” added Barnard. “What’s so special about her notifications that we can’t see them?”

  “Fine, if you’re going to be so moody about it,” she finally said.

  Tripp nodded. “Thanks, Etta. Rolley, let’s see your notifications.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Notification: Rolley

  Scourge blight gained!

  You were burned by a scourge’s fire for too long and you have contracted blight. Your body parts affected by the scourge will be ineffective.

  Tripp had to read the message three times before he could comprehend it. Now he understood why Rolley was so pale.

  “Ineffective? What exactly does having ineffective hands mean?”

  “This,” said Rolley.

  He reached for one of the daggers next to him. His face looked strained as he tried to move his fingers. Through a tremendous effort, he forced them around the blade handle, but he didn’t pick it up.

  “That’s as far as I can move them. I can’t do anything.”

  “Great. You’ve lost use of your hands. And this is room 1? Really?”

  “We’re done,” said Barnard. “This is over. Without Rolley’s daggers and lockpicking…”

  “The fight could have gone better,” said Etta. “In fact, I might go as far as to say this is a hindrance. I know, I know, I’m getting carried away. But come on. We still haven’t worked out what to do here. So Rolley can’t use his hands anymore. Are we going to give up?”

  Tripp wasn’t so sure they’d made the right choice in leader now. When Etta talked, Barnard listened. Tripp found himself listening. Even Rolley couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Now Etta was looking Tripp’s way. “What next, captain?”

  That was a good question. Tripp looked around. Figure out the room next?

  No, there was something else first.

  “We better divide the loot. Remember, I get first choice at the crafting stuff. The rest goes to a loot auction.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Rolley, getting to his feet.

  He was remarkedly cheerful for a rogue whose fingers had just been burned to cinders by a fire scourge. One who wouldn’t be able to use his dagger or lockpicks anymore.

  “How do we do that?” asked Barnard. “I thought all loot goes to auction.”

  “As a party, you can all give me access to the loot. I’ll sort through it, take what crafting things I need, and leave the rest.”

  “We’re supposed to trust you?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Why should we trust you to leave the good stuff?”

  Great question, Tripp thought. He wouldn’t have trusted him, in their shoes. Deep down he knew he was a good guy, but they didn’t know that.

  He’d just have to show them by his actions, the same way he’d judge them by theirs.

  “Just trust me this once. The worst that happens is I take all the loot. Then what? You can kill me for going back on my word. Three against one.”

  “Fine. Let’s get on with it. I trust you,” said Etta.

  Tripp sorted through the pile of loot from the dead scourges. He didn’t find much.

  Items received

  - Undead essence x2

  - Fire essence x4

  After that, the others held their loot auction. Etta won, and she made sure both Rolley and Barnard knew it by holding a new spear above her head. It was made from a dark red wood that seemed to weep, so slick was the shaft. The tip was forked, with steel tips that seemed to shine.

  “Staff of Righteous way,” Etta told him. “It’s more effective against inherently evil creatures. Something tells me it might get a lot of use in a place like this.”

  Rolley paced the room now. His demeanor had changed since the scourges had blackened his hands, rendering them useless. Tripp guessed that made sense. He could forgive him if he wanted to mope around for a while.

  Turned out Rolley wasn’t much of a moper.

  Now the rogue was motivated, prowling around the room like a hungry cat, inspecting every inch of it. Maybe he thought he could make up for his loss of lock picking and fighting skills by being productive.

  “All I can see is that the levers have reset,” he said, nodding at the floor. “They’re ready to be pulled again.”

  Tripp shook his head. “All that’ll do is summon something else. Using the levers must have done something.”

  With some of his manus regenerated, Tripp cast underlay around the room. With such depleted manus, he had to be strategic in where he spread it. He managed to cover the whole floor, walls, and ceiling in 3 casts, leaving his bar empty.

  No more Underlay for a while, he promised himself. Now that we’re safe, I’ll save whatever regenerates for crafting.

  Checking the Underlay results, something was different on the wall next to the door.

  Underlay Analysis

  Granite

  Wood

  Sandstone

  The granite was from the walls, the wood from the door. But the sandstone was new.

  Tripp took his pickaxe from his inventory and began pounding the granite surface. It fell away easier than he expected, and soon he had rendered the outer surface of the wall as rubble.

  This left a lighter sheet of granite beneath, except with sandstone blocks placed in it.

  Tripp stepped back, saw the pattern, and smiled.

  “The sandstone blocks spell something,” said Etta. “Well done, Tripp! A little hard to make out, though.”

  She was right; the blocks were randomly cut, poorly placed, but they spelled words, alright.

  “Someone…no…sometimes...” began Rolley.

  “Sometimes to go forward…” said Tripp.

  Barnard pointed, his expression excited. “You must go back! Sometimes to go forward, you must go back!”

  Now that Barnard had said it, Tripp could see the pattern. They had their first clue. The question now was, what did it mean?

  They were all silent for a minute as they thought about it. Rolley looked like he was straining so hard for an answer that his head might burst. His cheeks had reddened, his vein on his temple stuck out.

  “I think I have it,” said Barnard. “I knew straight away, really. But I thought I’d give you guys a chance to figure it out,” he said while looking at Rolley the whole time. The rogue hung his head down.

 
“Let’s hear it,” said Tripp.

  “To go forward, you must go back. Simple; we go back through the door we first used to enter this room.”

  “Yeah, I buy that.”

  “Sound just cryptic enough to make me feel like an ass. Sure,” said Etta.

  “One thing first,” said Tripp. “We messed up earlier, and we need to fix it.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Etta.

  “When the scourges came, we were a mess. No plan of attack, no defined roles. We were like a little league team sent to the world cup and told to score a goal.”

  “Little league? Goal?” said Etta. “You don’t watch sport, do you?”

  Tripp shrugged. “I’m a sucker for feelgood dramas. My point stands; we were a shitshow, and we need to sort it out before we head back through the door.”

  “I'm with you,” said Rolley. “More in spirit, then anything else, since I can’t use my god damned hands.”

  “Rolley, you’re our trap guy,” said Tripp. “We don’t move through a room without getting the all-clear from you. Etta, you have the most HP out of all of us, and I have my Defenseweave armor. We’ll take most of the damage, where possible.”

  “What about me?” asked Barnard.

  “That’s the question. I don’t want to be mean, but what can you do?”

  “Hey, Barny can…he can…” Rolley said, failing miserably to come to his friend’s defense.

  “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out as harsh as it did,” said Tripp.

  Barnard waved his hands dismissively. “Don’t worry.”

  Even though he was smiling, Tripp could see in his eyes that it wasn’t okay, and he felt bad. What he’d said was exactly right, but he still felt a little mean.

  “Barnard, I understand how powerful a dice mage would be if you got things under control. But is this really worth it?” Before Barnard could answer, Tripp carried on. “Forget it. If you feel like you can cast a spell that helps us without setting us on fire or something, then do it. I have faith in you, okay? But only do it if you feel certain. Finally, Rolley, since you can’t fight now, you can be our healer in battle. Everyone needs to give all but one of your health and manus potions to Rolley. He can administer them as we fight. Everyone ready?”