The Crafting of Chess

by Kit Falbo

  On inspection I see it gains the trait aggressive, each consecutive attack on the same target adds a stacking +1 attack. I hand it back, Sarah isn’t impressed, though it could get impressive if you got into a long fight with a single creature like a boss. “Thanks.” She says, sounding not that appreciative. The rest of the group are chatting faintly between themselves, loosening up, I guess.

  Once we move off the fork, the ground turns boggy and harsh. While the others trudge through it, my shoes keep me out of it, giving me a whole new level of appreciation for them. I have to stagger my pace to keep with them. El Morde is using his staff to help pull his feet out of the muck. “You got a spell to help with this noob?” he asks.

  “Just got lucky enchanting my shoes. I could lend you a hand if you need it.” Thankfully, the bog is starting to subside, and we start to enter the rockier wooded area where the mine should be located. Mad Monk even starts whistling a tune from the rear.

  Boulders jut out of the ground in the middle of the forest like they were placed there or had burst out of the earth years ago. They vary in size. Some are as large as cars or even houses. At times it is hard to see the trail from the woods and stone.

  A crying howl pierces the woods “EeeeeeeeeeeeEEEE!” and birds shoot from the nearby trees.

  Hairs on the back of my neck start to rise, and I shiver. “What’s that!” My voice cracks a little. This isn’t like me, in the corner of my vision. I noticed a new icon. It is a fear debuff, you would think that would calm me, but my heart beats faster.

  Sarah frowns, “Haven’t you….”

  “Shhhhhh…” Axel interrupts. “They’re hunting us. Chess, let’s get you safe. You being lowest level means they’ll target you first. It’ll be wasted time for us all if you die.”

  El Morde pulls Sarah back with him while the others pushed me forward.

  We hurry, the howling egging me on and making my skin crawl. “Cave!” barks Geoorge. It’s more of a pit than a cave surrounded by several large boulders. It has a three-foot steep angular drop leading a short way back only a few meters before dead ending.

  At the entrance, Axel nudges me in, and I slide down the short drop. “Quick! The swords, we’ll take care of this fast.”

  A screeching howl, even closer now, makes me cringe and sweat. Keeping the Star Strike blade, I hand him the eight-slot bag they’d given me at the training grounds. The four other swords in there should be enough. I get a prompt asking about the item transfer and select Yes.

  As he steps back from the entrance, bag in hand, a small smile touches the edge of his lips. The physical sensations are still ripping through me. Why smile. Suddenly the boulders shift crumbling over the entrance, “Wait!” I yell. It’s too late, and I’m sealed into the dark.

  Chapter Nine - Chess

  I go through my character windows. There must be a team chat function. Thankfully the screen is nice and bright in the darkness for me, though it did fail to illuminate the surroundings. “There.” A notice pops up before I can do anything.

  You have been removed from the team.

  I notice the fear debuff is now gone, but that doesn’t make the wrongness in the pit of my stomach feel any less intense.

  Axel Thorn has removed you from his friend list.

  El Morde has removed you from his friend list.

  There is an incoming message prompt. I hit Accept. It is Sarah Tam’s voice: “Sorry man. I’m kind of stuck playing with my brother and his friends. No hardies.” The last notification is

  Sarah Tam has removed you from her friend list.

  “FUCK!” I push at the rocks sealing me in. I am pushing uphill with no leverage, and they refuse to budge. I punch the rock. All it does is cause my knuckles to tingle, and I lost a hit point. Too eager to get my next level in smithing, I should have just stuck with players closer to my level, fresh out of the training grounds. Most importantly I should have taken into account the fact that they chose to treat a companion as a mule. Sure, it’s an NPC, but it’s a sign.

  The timer for lunch starts: thirty minutes and counting. I already planned on taking a break before making a run at the mines with the team. Well, former team. As it is, they already got paid twenty gold deposit, and my starting bag holding four swords. I need to calm down, so I log out.

  Compared to the dark cave, the reactive room is blindingly bright. There is also the now very familiar feeling of needing to pee really badly. That alone pretty much kills any anger I have, and I shuffle off to the bathroom. The long line moves at a glacial pace. “Hey, what are the creatures that go eeeEEEE and cause fear?” I ask the captive audience of the line.

  “Howlees. Not even worth the XP. Some beast trainers will summon them to clear low level areas of dumb beasts to make travel easier. That or harass noobs. Only affects lower level things though. Pure limited utility since it will affect you too.”

  We all move forward with the line, “I guess you would really need to be raw to get played by them,” I say.

  “Yeah, who doesn’t check the wiki?” Who indeed. When I finally get my turn in the restroom, I try to void my stress as I void my bladder. The stress doesn’t all go away. I could have handled the whole situation better. I played myself into a corner, or in this case, a sealed pit. It has happened to me in chess at times as well, either by underestimating my opponent or just not being in the game. Sometimes you lose, tipping your king over not seeing an out. Other times you can take stock of all your options and make your way back.

  I make it back to my room just in time to catch the delivery of my lunch. The tacos are much better warm and crunchy. Between bites I plan. The easy way would be to die, literally fall on my sword, to give up on the Garrish Mines quest, and therefore any other future Enchanters guild quests. Considering I’ve only seen them be dicks, that wouldn’t be a huge loss. Then I’d join a low-level group and hope to stumble on one of the random group quests, though rumor is that can take days.

  Another option is to see what I can do with where I am at. Odds are I will die anyway and just find a new group tomorrow. It all depends on what I want to do with my final four hours of playing time.

  I log back into the darkness. The only light is the faint orange glow of my sword. I charge a Sorcerous Bolt in my hand, focusing on keeping it there and not releasing it. The illumination improves with blue and purple sparks dancing in my palm, but not enough to really see. I wait for my eyes to adjust to the limited light. This is a game. You’d think there would be some mysterious writing or maybe a slight breeze coming out of a crack. All I can find is stone and dirt.

  The spell in my hand starts to flicker and squirt off wisps of sparks and colored flame. I direct it back at the entrance. The impact produces a splash of rock chips and dust. The room settles back into darkness. I flick through my skills. Strengthen will probably have the opposite effect of what I want, assuming I manage to cast it. I suppose I could try to dig with my sword, but that seems a waste, not that I haven’t already wasted four others this trip.

  I focus on the latest spell that I had earned at level 5, Summon Familiar. I haven’t used it yet. It would have been a waste of mana while I was working the forge, besides, who knew what kind of creature might appear. The base description is Summon a creature or spirit to be bound to the caster and assist him in the game. Would being trapped keep it from finding me? I look deeper at the descriptions info tab.

  Creature summoned in part based on the casters class, sub class, professions, and achievements. Summon generated by the game system upon being cast and bound to the caster. Status: unbound, more info available once binding takes place.

  What’s the worst that can happen? I get a canary and die in this coalmine? At this point, it’s this or dig. I focus on activating the ability for the first time. An amorphous blob pulses next to me, bringing light. Being trapped wouldn’t be an issue at all, I guess. It starts to solidify and darken into a shape. Of course, in the dark I can’t tell exactly what shape. I bring energy t
o my hand again to lighten up the room.

  “Hello!” shrieks a voice in my head.

  I nearly blast it then and there, an instance of Familiaricide, but manage to stumble back in surprise, falling on my ass, onto the hard ground.

  My eyes adjust slowly to the low light. The creature is roughly three feet high, standing on two legs. It reminds me of a large otter with claws and a pointed snout, much like a badger’s. It has eyes so small they are almost invisible. “Um, hi. What are you?”

  “Me familiar, Me digger.”

  Maybe I am lucky. “Can you dig me out of here?”

  The creature starts shifting back and forth from one foot to another, rocking slowly. It walks slowly to a wall and sticks its hand into the wall. It goes in like it’s sliding into pudding. “Me.” It then pulls its arm out and punches the wall, this time hitting the stone with a solid thud. “You. No out.”

  At best, I can send it out to get help, if there is any help to be gotten. I let out a long sigh, “What do I call you? What can you do for me?”

  “You name.”

  A prompt pops up before me, asking me to name my familiar. Well, my character is Chess, so the obvious route will be something along those lines. Pawn seems too diminutive, but knight, rook, bishop and the rest don’t seem to suit the creature. Duffer would also be similarly insulting. Zeitnot? Nah.

  “Cook. I’ll call you Cook. It’s not a cooking thing. I’ll explain it later.” Now I’m dithering towards my NPC familiar. Well, if this cave is my island, he can be my Wilson.

  “Cook!” Cook squeals excitedly causing me to cringe. “I do my best. I find and bring you metals and gems. I help when you need.”

  With all my crafting spells and professions, a familiar to help gather materials is useful, just maybe not so much now. The spell in my hand starts to sizzle and spurt again. I try to shake it out, but that only half works and I take a small amount of damage with a warming sensation to my hand. “Ugh! It would be nice to see without needing to do that.”

  A notice pops up.

  Cook casts Darkvision on Chess.

  The room isn’t bright, but it’s now certainly much easier to see than it was with any of my previous attempts. A timed buff in the corner of my vision is counting down from two hours. “You can cast spells?”

  “Only see in dark and hide. Diggers don’t fight.”

  “Do you have any idea of how I can get out of here?”

  Cook starts to go back and forth on its feet again, hobbling around the room. He walks in and out of the walls a few times before coming back and settling near me. “No. But Cook see another cave past little rock there.” He points to the ground near the lowest part of this cavern.

  The blast of Sorcerous Bolt didn’t do any real damage to the entrance blockage, so I doubt it can do much here, but maybe there is something I can try.

  I stand at the spot Cook indicated. What’s the worst that can happen? I blow myself up and die? If this doesn’t work, I’ll need to die to escape anyway. I hold the sword in my right hand and point its tip at the ground. The bolt in my left hand is ready, and I’m holding both charges on the blade, the Searing Strike and Star Strike, ready to activate. I lift the blade and bring it crashing into the ground while channeling both strikes and my Sorcerous Bolt there. The rebound blast throws me up in the air for a half second, and I crash back down, a quarter of my life gone.

  A cloud of dust obscures the area that I hit, but there’s no hole, no sign that the blast did any good. Well, that sucks.

  Crack! The floor splits and starts to fall away, and I’m falling with it. I land with a jolt that knocks all the air out of me. Now I only have a quarter of my life. I look around a bit dazed, trying to get my bearings. “You okay, Cook?”

  The little fellow phases himself out of the rubble, no worse for wear. “I found a shiny.” Cook hands me a large blue crafting gem. I put it in my pink bag, the bag from Byron, where I’d been keeping supplies that weren’t weapons. I hadn’t wanted to grab the wrong thing in a fight, which is why I kept the weapons Axel stole separate. While the bag is open, I fish around until I find a healing potion. I toss back the potion and, well, inhale its cherry syrup medicine taste. It bumps me back up to half a life.

  I’m in what had been a tunnel to somewhere, the rubble my blast created blocks the way behind me. At least there’s one direction I can go. After a few yards, the path curves out of sight. “Cook, can you check up ahead for anything that might be dangerous? And if you find anything special or shiny, bring it back too.”

  Cook takes off. I use the time to recharge the charges on the sword. Using it as I did to make the explosion has taken off several points of durability.

  Cook returns carrying several pieces of crafting material, including two farren ore shards that are part of the quest. The description lists them as a base material for farren ingots. My enchanter’s skill shows them as a powered item. At least players aren’t collecting something useless. “Nothing until big cave. Big scary there.”

  We make our way slowly down the tunnel. Cook weaves in and out of the walls grabbing two more shards and another gem before we reach the opening to a larger area. I poke my head in and quickly pull it back out after getting a quick look around. We have a problem. A big problem, in the shape of a giant with a craggy, rocky exterior, sharp fangs and overly long arms filling much of the space. Inspecting tells me it’s a Troll. This troll is maybe 30 feet taller than I’d thought trolls were supposed to be and wields a long stone club that extends his reach to those parts of the cavern his body isn’t taking up.

  There are two obvious exits, this one and one straight across the cavern. There’s what looks like it might be another opening behind the giant troll. The creature is big enough that I don’t see how it could fit through either so, if I can make it to the other exit, I should be fine.

  I take a step into the large cavern to get a better view. The Troll is in a crouched seated position, the ceiling barely allowing him to straighten his back. No way would he be able to stand. I say “he” because, well, it’s naked, and though the parts are blurred out because of age restrictions, it is certainly a male-shaped blur. Two heavy chains with links as thick as my waist anchor the troll’s feet to the wall behind him. A large semi-circular gouge in the stone floor begins a few feet in front of me and curves around past the far exit to the wall on that side of the cavern. Behind the troll, the wall sparkles with farren ore shards and gems.

  The only sound is the steady breathing from the troll. Maybe he can’t see me in the dark? I inch closer to the grooves to get a better look at them. I squat down and reach out to touch them. A faint metal grating sound disrupts the rhythm of the room and warns me to stop, which is good as the stone club suddenly flies inches away from my face. The force from the gust of air generated by the swing knocks me back, and little sparks fly as the club scrapes along the groove clipping the far wall before it finishes the swing. “Shit, I suppose that should have been obvious.”

  The troll roars and the cavern shakes. I duck back into the tunnel, covering my ears to shut out the roaring that continues. Then it clicks. The troll isn’t roaring. He’s yelling, yelling in a thick grumbling accent that garbles the words. I try to decode the accent.

  “Obvious! Obvious to all! They wait then run! When they don’t choose to waste fire and arrows on me!” At least that is what I think the troll says.

  Cook is still waiting outside the cavern, “Cook.” I whisper. “Can you sneak your way through the walls and grab some of those shinies that are behind the troll.”

  The digger trembles, “Scary!”

  My head rings. “Not so loud,” I whisper.

  “Only you hear Cook.”

  “And only I need you to be quieter. Can you sneak over there? I’ll try to keep him distracted.”

  Cook nods but is clearly unhappy with my plan and phases slowly into the wall. I step back into the cavern, making sure to stay in the area that the troll’s club can’t
reach. I raise my hands around my mouth to form makeshift megaphone. “Seems to me like you could use some help!”

  “Help?” the troll roars. The gust from a new swipe pushes against me as the club scrapes around the cavern. “You won’t give me peace! How can a pest like you give me help?”

  “I don’t know. What do you want? Maybe you can tell me. Maybe start by telling me who you are.”

  The troll glares at me with a mixture of malevolence and sadness. He can’t reach me, and he knows it. “I’m a monster!” His roar shakes the cave. “I’m a slave!”

  He continues to speak at a quiet rumble now. “Dwarves of the stone axe so long ago found me, took me and bound me and forced me to guard this door.” His lips curl into a sneer, displaying his large sharp teeth. “Then they fed me. I wasn’t even hungry. Magic. Scraps. Garbage. Slime. Their own dead. And I grew. Then they sent their prisoners, murderers, beggars. Then they hunted the underworld taking prisoners. It was a steady stream. I could not stop. I wanted to. They would use a word, and I would freeze, allowing them to pass. I would crush every one of them if I could, but they denied me that. Then they died. Plague or magic, I know not. Dwarves of the stone axe died, their restless spirits still haunting their old homes. But me, Gar, I survive. I am still bound. I am bound by these chains and by my size, and you say you could help me!” The club swings its arc, but this time with less enthusiasm.

  “You may not be able to leave, Gar, but there are things you might want. For example, you seem to really want to be able to use that club on me.”

  Gar snorts.

  “And maybe you want something to make your life more bearable. Make you more comfortable. A story or a song, perhaps. Or a pet. Or advice.”

  He doesn’t push back at that, so maybe he’s listening.

  I continue, “Did you know that those groups who harass you and run past live for doing things to earn rewards? They seek those stones that decorate your walls. They even seek the experience of doing things.”