“What kind of quest did they put here?” I ask. I can’t hide the glee from my voice. My Power Perception picks up the golden glow, indicating that this stone is the first step toward a Camlan quest.
“Be careful,” Balderdash13 says.
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s dangerous. I don’t get the same red warning that I’ve gotten from enemies and traps. I’ll be careful. Just cover me as I go in.”
I creep forward, past the tanks, past the defensive perimeter of the team, through the knee-high bushes and closer to the partial stone wall that stands in our path. I hesitate, not yet ready to cross the threshold into the structure itself. I raise my hand tentatively to the stone, careful for what might happen when I touch it. There’s no telling what kind of magic or quest is coded into this ruin.
First my fingertips, then my palm, lay flat against the surface of the stone. It’s unexpectedly warm, almost tingling in its resting power. It reminds me of the giant yew tree in the center of Castle Nennius that provided us with the magical blossoms for our last potion. But the smooth surface of the stones draws me in even more than the rough bark of the tree.
Attention: You have discovered the Ruins of Trevena
Description: Trevena was the birthplace of the Departed King, untold centuries ago. Lost to history, no one has lived here for so long, rumors of its existence are now doubted. Camlan mythology promises that when the Departed King returns, his birthplace will be restored.
Reward: +100 XP
I let out a long, slow breath. What had we stumbled upon?
Erinocalypse appears at my side, her hand flat on the stone near mine. “Departed King? Who’s that? I haven’t heard about this mythology, have you?”
I shake my head.
“That’s… I mean…” She trails off, smiling to herself.
“I know.” This feels big. This feels overwhelming. This feels like the kind of quest you can spend years pursuing. “Maybe you only get it at a certain level, or you have to be holding a certain object. Maybe there are only specific quests or spots like this that reveal it.”
“Clues,” she suggests with a grin. “Like a mystery.”
“Right. So let’s see what this clue is.”
The floor of the former castle is peppered with ancient-looking stones, some still lying flat like the floor, some upended, corners dug into the earth. Beyond the single corner of a building that remains standing, the space opens up a bit to reveal the extent of the ruins. Half of a wall stretches to my right, with a stone archway on the far side. To my left, I spot a handful of knee-high piles of stones and partial walls still standing.
Whatever this structure used to be, it hasn’t been anything for a very long time.
“Do you feel that?” I ask Erinocalypse in a whisper. “There’s some strong magic here.”
She nods, but doesn’t take her eyes off our surroundings. She seems to be holding her hands ready, in case she needs to cast, but no enemy approaches.
I peek around to my left, through the doorframe. Power Perception doesn’t pick up any warning red glow, so I move to the left around the crumbling stone wall, and step deeper into the the remains of Trevena. I am in what probably was an entrance hall, with the stairs to my left and a hallway in front of me. With no roof, and none of the walls to their full height, it is easy to see the layout of how Trevena could have been.
For some reason, I am hesitant to arm myself, even as I walk deeper into the unknown. Maybe it has to do with the birthplace mythology of this place, or the wonder around this so-called Departed King, but these ruins don’t strike me as the kind of place I am likely to be attacked.
In fact, it’s more like a feeling of welcome, as though the very location has been expecting me, drawing me to this very moment.
SteelFeather and Balderdash13 elbow us behind them as they take point. I’m startled for a moment; I had forgotten they were even there, the pull of Trevena’s magic is that strong. The tanks hold their weapons ready, one on each side, as the five of us walk slowly through our new discovery. The stone walls indicate where rooms used to be, but not a single one of them is still whole.
“Where to?” SteelFeather asks over his shoulder, also in a whisper.
“Just keep moving,” TexBadass calls from behind me. “If we find something, fine. But let’s not go seek it out.”
“Yeah, but what if there’s some good loot?” I ask him over my shoulder with a grin.
He chuckles. “Damn straight.”
We stay quiet, walking from room to room, ready for whatever adventure is about to find us.
Chapter 17
The stone ruins in the middle of Dyrnwood feel safe, and more comfortable than maybe anywhere else I have been in Camlan. I don’t want to trust it; I don’t let down my guard. As the five of us cautiously pass through the empty hallways. Here and there we come across a rat, easily dispatched with for a few XP, but otherwise the ruins are utterly deserted. The glow indicating a quest hasn’t reappeared since that first outer wall.
“I thought there’d be more to this place,” TexBadass says with some disappointment. “Not even any good mobs to kill.”
He’s right. It feels like there should be more, that we should have to fight our way in at the minimum, but our footsteps just echo off the old stones. We come across what had maybe been a Great Hall, with the remains of an enormous fireplace at one end. We duck our heads into several side rooms, some lined with empty shelves, some with the sad, abandoned remains of child’s nursery. In all it’s the exact match of a ruined castle, the remains of where someone powerful had once ruled.
I find myself wondering about this Departed King and what happened to him. Why has what clearly used to be a home now been completely abandoned?
We’ve reached the throne room, still without having met any creature or open quest. My adrenaline is all keyed up, like watching a horror movie and expecting something to jump out at any second. The throne itself is gone, but on the dais, growing up through the stone floor through where a ceiling used to be, is an enormous willow tree.
All five of us look up and up and up to the top of where this tree is. It has been growing up towards the light, towards the sun, past the rest of the canopy of Dyrnwood. The magic and power in this willow tree is reminiscent of the power I felt in the stones of the ruins. With a quick switch to Power Perception, I realize the tree is glowing with the tell-tale golden glow indicating a quest.
Something tells me to approach this tree with respect. The lack of red glow confirms this instinct and I stow my weapon in my inventory and step forward toward the dais.
“Be careful,” Balderdash13 says. She and SteelFeather hang back, but keep weapons up and ready. I’m grateful I have them looking out for me when I let my guard down.
I take the first step up, slowly. The second step. I raise my hands up to place them carefully on the trunk of the tree. I can feel someone just behind me, and know it’s Erinocalypse. Of course, she’ll want to find out what this is about as much as I do.
I take a third step and have almost reached the wide trunk of the tree, when a saucy, feminine, musical voice teases me.
“Excuse you!”
I stop, looking around for where it comes from. “Um, excuse me?”
“What…?” Erin whispers.
“Watch those hands, mister,” the voice comes again, this time laughing as she says it.
Right in front of us, the bark of the willow tree begins to shimmer and flutter. I take a couple stumbling steps back, accidentally bumping into Erinocalypse. What is happening?
The bark continues to twist and undulate, in some place seeming to pull right off the tree itself and reforming in a new shape. The wrinkles and grooves of the bark smooth out in places, stretching and altering. The color shifts as the new figure takes hold. The shimmer begins to fade and the new figure becomes more solid, softer, and human-shaped. It all happens quickly, and suddenly everything is different.
I blink, taki
ng in what I just witnessed. A woman stands now, just in front of the trunk of the willow tree, where I was standing just a few moments ago.
Her red-gold hair hangs in loose curls around her face, matching the color of an willow’s leaves in the fall. She grins at us, flashing a dimple. Her skin is a pale, almost ashy, white, reminiscent of the tender flesh of wood that is protected by the rough bark. She has materialized directly out of the tree itself. She wears a filmy gown in various shades of green, that set off her red hair perfectly. I can’t tell what it’s made of, but it doesn’t appear to be any fabric we use in the real world.
“Welcome, travelers,” she says. “Welcome to the Ruins of Trevena.”
My mouth hangs open in surprise. “Are you…” I begin, before realizing I’m likely speaking to a minor goddess, not just any NPC. “Pardon me, your, um, eminence, but are you a dryad?”
“I am.” She smiles. “Why, how did you know?” She pats my arm playfully. Is she flirting with me? “Could it be the fact that I climbed out of this trunk here?” She patted the rough bark tenderly. “My name is Briaris, and this is my tree.”
Name: Briaris
Dryad Level: 78
Description: An ancient dryad, living in the famed willow tree of Trevena, Briaris has seen centuries of history of Camlan Realm. She is a source of immense knowledge, and as such, deserving of immense respect.
“As Guardians of Camlan,” she continues, “and as the first to discover the Ruins of Trevena, you are hereby entrusted with the responsibility of restoring the Departed King to his throne and saving the realm of Camlan.”
My mind whirs. Restoring who to what, now?
“That’s … that’s it?” Erinocalypse asks. “We just happen to be here and we are now responsible for the fate of Camlan?”
“Oh, no!” Briaris looked shocked at Erin’s question. She lets out a giggle. “It’s never so simple as that. It’s all of those things, of course. But mostly, the bearer of the Blade of Burnical is called to complete this quest,” she says with a deferential nod to me.
“Me?”
“Of course you, silly. Without this blade, the realm cannot be remade.”
“Oh, great,” Erinocalypse groans under her breath.
SteelFeather snorts a laugh and echoes the dryad. “Without the blade, it can’t be remade.”
“Back up, now,” TexBadass says, inserting himself into the conversation. “Start over. SirAsh3r here has some fancy sword, and then we wander into Dyrnwood and now … What?”
Briaris looks at each of us in turn, confusion clouding her expression. “Do you not know about our Departed King and the need for him to return to Camlan?”
All five of us shake our heads.
“Oh.” Briaris deflates momentarily before brightening again. “Very well then. I’ll tell you all about it.” She beams at us.
Chapter 18
Briaris, the dryad who we watched appear out of a willow tree in the throne room of a ruined castle, gestures to my group to all sit on the stone dais steps at her feet, as though this is just a normal story time and not one of the more surreal experiences of my life.
The open roof overhead looks out to a canopy of trees that had grown over where the castle once stood. After almost thirty minutes of progressing through the Ruins of Trevena without encountering any enemies, it seems okay to let down our guard. I sit, the others find their spots as well, and we listen.
“Many many centuries ago,” she begins, “the King of Camlan ruled this land graciously and without conflict. His bevy of knights was loyal, and his subjects honored him.”
I hide my smile, remembering that we are in a game, and none of this existed centuries ago. But some writer, somewhere, got to make up all this story and mythology. We get to act as though it’s all real, and this is why I love these full-immersion games. Suspension of disbelief.
“When the King reached his fortieth year, he was betrayed by one of his most trusted knights. He was drawn into a battle against his right hand man, and was gravely injured. After the battle, his wounded body was taken by three queens, to be healed and hidden, never to be seen again.
“With the position of King vacant, Camlan has fallen into a lost, chaotic kingdom. We have less powerful rulers taking advantage of no oversight. We have dark creatures gaining power and territory. We have sinister magic destroying good. Camlan needs our king, but only a very specific confluence of events will bring him back. Legend tells us that the Departed King will return once more. It requires only a Guardian of skill and valor to restore the true leader to the throne.”
The end of her sentence is drowned out by the sound of multiple, deep growls. I immediately jump to my feet. The growling echoes around the nearly empty throne room, and it’s impossible to determine how many creatures are growling. Two? Four? The others stand as well, and we form a defensive semicircle around Briaris and her tree, facing outward to whatever enemy is approaching.
Although the throne room itself only has one doorway, there are broken down walls and gaps in the stone perimeter all around us. Through the space, the faces of armored trolls appear in the darkness. One, two … I count five attackers, all but surrounding us, and cornering our group in the throne room.
Enhancement received: Bubble of Protection
Description: You will sustain -5% damage for the next sixty seconds
Enhancement received: Arm of Monmouth
Description: You will enjoy +5% Strength for the next sixty seconds
Without even a word exchanged between us, the five of us leap into action. The five trolls step through the gaps and windows, menacingly toward us.
Name: Battle Troll
Level: 34
Description: Much more fierce and intelligent than its cousin, Battle Trolls have one goal: to destroy the enemy in front of it.
While physically the Battle Trolls look like the River Trolls I have already encountered, it is clear from their behavior and even armor that they are far advanced. Chest plates cover their more vulnerable bellies. These creatures aren’t going to come lumbering awkwardly, closed fists to bludgeon us. The maces they wield alone can do significantly more damage than the River Trolls did with their fists.
It will be more than just the brute force of the River Trolls, but still. This I can handle. This I can help with. Far from the mercurial, intangible form of the Fell Shadow Walker, these Battle Trolls are just asking to have an arrow or seven shot into them. Erinocalypse begins firing Petrify at each Battle Troll in turn, freezing their attacks briefly, so the tanks can focus on the still-moving enemies.
One is petrified in the middle of stepping into the room. Another is stopped mid-swing just before hitting SteelFeather. Erinocalypse is churning out her casts as fast as possible.
I use my Bow of Eternal Rest liberally. Every fourth arrow I imbue with the Slay Poison to further weaken the Battle Trolls. But as I watch the Health Points get chipped away, I realize this battle may be the perfect opportunity to expand my skill set. Our team has a good control of the room and of the dynamics of the battle. I can start my sword training with the Blade of Burnical.
With the bow saved back into my inventory, I pull out the Blade of Burnical. It’s a one-handed sword, with deep red rubies in the pommel. The luxury and opulence of this sword is understated; it is very clearly the weapon of a ruler, and I wonder if belonged to the Departed King himself, and that’s why it triggers the quest. This weapon really should belong to a warrior much more skilled than I am, but the chest granted it to me. It’s mine. This is what I should be doing.
The weight feels perfect in my hand, but my experience with sword-fighting is so little as to be not worth mentioning. I haven’t even picked up a sword in this game before now. I take a few experimental swings with it, trying to figure out the best way to start.
“Really?” Erinocalypse says to me, watching me. “You think now is the time to practice that?”
I ignore her. I start down the steps, leaving the two ca
sters on the dais.
Holding the blade out in front of me, I approach one of the Battle Trolls still under the effects of the Petrify spell. I’m not sure how long I have, but as soon as I am close enough, I swing the sword down and to my left, as hard as I can, slicing into the monster’s left arm. The spell wears off as I complete the arc of my swing, and I nearly miss having the weapon knocked out of my hand.
I back up a few steps, almost stumbling in my haste. The Battle Troll is a full three feet taller than me, with better armor and, I’m sure, better sword-fighting skills. But I am determined. I grit my teeth and recover my stance. The troll advances.
I hold my own, for just a few parries. Swinging, making contact with the monster, and even deflecting blows from his mace. As long as I don’t have to pay attention to anything else—I mentally hope SteelFeather and Balderdash13 are holding their own—I can just barely keep up, and even seem to be improving.
Attention: You have unlocked Active Skill: Sword-Fighting Level 1
Description: You are adding to you arsenal of attack.
Reward: +40 XP
Congratulations! You have reached level 30!
You have one attribute point to distribute.
Name: SirAsh3r
Level: 30
Strength: 34
Intelligence: 34
Dexterity: 33
Stamina: 34
Magic: 35
Skills: Woodcraft 3, Slash 2, Club 3, Paddle 1, Climbing 1, Stealth 3, Archery 9, Power Perception 4, Backstab 1
Abilities: Initiative 2, Focus 1
Professions: Cooking 2
Affinities: 12% Earth; 16% Water; 10% Fire
Fame: 350
Achievements: First Explorer of Lake Galavant, First Explorer of Foyle Forest, Friend of Water
I dismiss the game message hastily. It’s great and all that I’ve finally unlocked the sword-fighting skill, but Level 1 is not going to protect me from the Battle Troll that is still coming at me. I see Balderdash13 in my periphery, making her way toward me.
Fate of Camlan Page 7