Confused, I brought out my blowtorch tool. The item description informed me that the power of the fire rune inside was at 54%. I assumed replacing it would waste the current fire rune in there but I had spare ones now.
Popping the old rune out like a clip of ammo, I jammed the frost rune into the blowtorch chamber. Now it spewed a jet of freezing frost like liquid nitrogen.
“C’mon, hurry up,” the gnome snapped imperiously.
“You’ve got a lot of lip for someone trapped in a burning metal coffin.”
The cold torch was working, I think. The handle was turning icy at least. Continuous use drained the rune fast. When it hit zero power, the stone popped out of the chamber, falling as a regular pebble to the fall. Taking out my smith’s hammer, I struck the frozen handle once, twice. On the third swing, it shattered, crumbling into tiny pieces.
I stepped back just as the door burst open and a coughing gnome leapt out of the smoke. He landed at my feet, struggling for breath and doubled over. As I bent to help him, he promptly started to spit soot onto my shoes.
“Hey,” I said, stepping back and shaking the saliva off. “Not cool man. I just saved you.”
Next thing I knew, a sharp cutting pain exploded in my thigh.
The gnome has just stabbed me with a screwdriver.
Already low, my health descended to 50 points. Panicking, I kicked wildly, catching the gnome square in the chest and sending him flying. Unsheathing my crossbow, I loaded a bolt, took aim and prepped a fire rune in my free hand.
Seeing my weapons bearing down on him, the gnome fell to his knees. “I surrender, I surrender.”
“Throw away the screwdriver.”
He did, lobbing it as far as his stubby little arms would allow. Now I got a better look at him, I reckoned he could be no more than three feet tall when stood upright. He had short, spikey green hair with the bizarre addition of mutton chops which were also green. Brown dungarees over a white shirt tied at the waist with a toolbelt marked him clearly as some engineer.
Ignatius Brightspark – Engineer – level 20 Elite
“Please don’t kill me,” he begged.
I sighed inwardly. Even this little guy was an elite, and I’d have a hard enough time fighting him even if I was at full strength.
“I won’t hurt you,” I said, “But attack me again and I’ll have no choice.”
“The others didn’t give us a choice.”
“I’m not with those other people. They’re trying to kill me too.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly,” I said impatiently. “We cool?”
“Indeed we are not cool,” the gnome puffed up. “I’m terribly warm from the fire.”
“I mean, are we friends? We’re not going to try and kill each other?”
“I won’t try anything, I swear,” Ignatius said. He hobbled towards me on his knees, hands clasped before him and his eyes popping. “Will you help me to escape this terrible place?”
“Maybe,” I said, sensing the chance for a deal to be struck. “Will you help me access that crystal?” I inclined my head to the workbench.
The gnome’s eye’s darted between the crystal and me a few times. He licked his lips. “What do you want that for?”
“That’s none of your business. Will you help me access it or not?”
“I’ll help you, provided you help me to escape. Deal?”
“Deal.” I sheathed my weapons, removed one of my gloves and extended my hand for him to shake. He gave my hand a dirty look.
“You should wash that more regularly, human.”
I thought that rich considering the oil stains on his work clothes.
“I’ll remind you again that I just saved your life. You should work on your manners.”
Ignatius jumped to his feet, hands on hips. “Do you not know to whom you speak – I, Ignatius Brightspark, second son of Gazzlewicks the Great Cog.”
“I – errr…”
“He’s gnomish royalty,” Ellie said.
“What the—” I exclaimed, staring down in disbelief at the odd little man.
“Ah yes, that’s better,” said Ignatius. “Your shock and awe are far more pleasing. Endeavour to maintain this during our time together.”
I forced down a laugh, not wishing to sour my chances of getting the crystal.
“Yes, your majesty.” I even bowed to him.
He conked me on the head.
“We do not bow in Gnomeland,” Igatius said tersely. “Although, I suppose we are quite a ways from Gnomeland. So terribly far, stuck here in a city lacking mecho-servants and shock therapy spas.” He sighed deeply and looked wistfully towards the workshop doors.
“Do you have a plan to get out?” I asked. “I’d have escaped ages ago myself were it not for the walls and moat. They kind of trap us here.”
Ignatius rolled his eyes. “Human, it is obvious. I shall climb the walls. Here,” he produced a scrap of paper from his toolbelt and shoved it at my waist without so much as looking at me. “These are the materials I shall need to build the device. Fetch them for me.”
I glanced over the paper; the corners were torn and the writing hastily scribbled and blotchy. After reading it once over, I received this notification.
Rare Recipe Learned!
Recipe – Grappling Gun
Intelligence Required: 50
Associated Profession: Engineering
Grappling hook x 1
Barrel chamber x 1
Trigger mechanism x 1
Create a handheld gun to fire a retractable grappling hook. Reach of the hook is 20 meters
My attitude towards Ignatius changed in a heartbeat. The range of the grappling gun was far greater than the regular grappling hook; surely enough to reach the tops of the walls encircling the Spire.
“This could work,” I said.
“Naturally,” said Ignatius. He clapped his hands. “Now go on, do your job scavenger. You ought to be good at it.”
“And you’ll give me the crystal?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Now I am going to find my favorite wrench. I can’t leave it behind. Also, I tire of speaking with you.”
Charming, I thought, as Ignatius flitted towards one of the gnome-sized crates and began rooting around inside it.
I turned my mind towards the issue at hand. The grappling hook I already had, though it would be a shame to give it up. The barrel chamber and trigger would be harder. If I had access to some weaponry, I could break it down as I’d done to get the trigger for my own crossbow. Presumably breaking down enough pistols or rifles might grant a barrel but I didn’t have any on me, nor was this the right room to find any in.
Hang on, I thought, opening my inventory. I had just picked up something that should do the trick. Withdrawing the flare gun, I activated Breakdown.
“Hold on,” Ellie said.
“What?” I muttered, trying not to let Ignatius hear me. Kreeptic thinking me a madman talking to myself was bad enough.
“Just think for a moment. With a barrel chamber, we can build the grenade launcher. There’s got to be enough scrap lying around to upgrade your crossbow to gain a second attachment. If you make the grappling hook for Ignatius, you won’t get the chance at the launcher.”
I chewed my lip, pondering the matter.
“But without the crystal, I can’t upgrade my gloves.”
“Oh, that’s why you want the crystal, is it?” Ellie said.
“You know, I’m thinking you just don’t want me to get a device that might actually let me get out of here. I could escape with him. I could get out of this completely.”
“You’re being difficult.”
“Ah ha, now that’s a very human thing to say. You’re getting the hang of this, Ellie.”
I imagined her non-existent face turning beet red with anger.
“Seems like you don’t want my help anymore. I’ll take a break, shall I? It’s too tough holding the connection if you’re going to act like this.”
>
“Go then,” I said. She was bluffing.
“Fine then.”
“Fine!”
No reply.
“Ellie?” I said more softly. “Ellie?”
Still no reply.
Grumbling, I went ahead and broke the flare gun down. She’d come back. This was just her going off in a huff, which didn’t seem like AI behavior. Could they take offence? Could they get angry? I wondered if she really did have to take a break to recover from the effort of maintaining a connection to me and didn’t want to worry me, and had used our little fight as a cover story.
A pang of guilt stabbed at me but there was little else I could do now but carry on.
My avatar finished breaking down the flare gun, providing me with a trigger mechanism and a barrel chamber as promised. Materials to hand, I began crafting.
Success! Grappling Gun level 25 created
+26 Crafting EXP
+85 Engineering EXP
It looked a bit like a harpoon gun and could be held with one hand.
Ignatius was upside down in a scrap pile, his little black booted feet sticking up above the rim of the crate.
“Oi, Ignatius, I’ve got the grappling gun for you.”
The gnome dove down, then sprang up in an eruption of cogs, gears and springs. “So soon, human?”
“How’s that for service?” I said. “And you know, I have a name, right? Call me Jac — I mean, Zoran.”
“That’s an awful name,” he said delightfully. “Oh, to be in such lowly company. It’s been nothing but drudgery since arriving in this tower.”
“Why are you here anyway?”
Ignatius slouched. “Mother and father felt it would be good for me to get away from the techno-palace. They thought I spent too much time at the mecha-races and scorned my interest. Be a proper engineer and make bombs and gizmos, they told me. They even took my own strider from me. I’d built her myself,” he added forlornly.
“What’s that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Mechanical animals which you ride in the races, obviously. Where have you been scavenger? No. Don’t answer that. I’d like to pretend I won’t have caught a disease from you.”
“Do you want this gun or not?”
“A bargain was struck, sir,” he said thrusting a wrench at me. Evidently, he’d found his missing possession. “I must escape this ghastly place, return to Gnomeland, rescue Gwendolyn and pursue my true ambitions. I shan’t let them dictate my life, prince or no.”
I decided to assume that Gwendolyn was the name of the racing creature he’d built; to conceive of a complicated love affair in this gnome’s life seemed a stretch too far. Yet, barking mad as he appeared, Ignatius’ words had struck a chord with me. He’d been denied the right to follow his own path and disrespected for playing when he might have been expected to do, well, whatever it was royal gnomes were supposed to do. Not picking his nose with his screwdriver, I imagine, as he was currently doing.
Personally, I reckoned that his parents had sent him away for being a cheeky shit rather than his enthusiasm for mechanical creatures. But despite all that, I found a strange kinship with this gnome. Ellie’s words on helping others came back to me. Game or not, I found I wanted to help him.
“What animal is Gwendolyn?” I asked.
Ignatius puffed up his chest. “An ostrich, the noblest of birds.”
“Sure. Sure,” I said nodding. A little lost for words I handed the grappling gun out for Ignatius to take it. A glint entered his eye. He scrambled out of the crate and pumped his little legs furiously to take it.
“’Tis a fine make,” Ignatius said, running his hands over the gadget. “I’ve heard that scavenger craft from humans is mostly rubbish, but perhaps I was wrong?”
I ignored him. “And the crystal?”
“Ah yes. A moment.”
He bounced over to the workbench and pulled out a pair of gleaming black tongs from a pouch at his belt. They were of a regular size but looked giant in his hands. He caught my eye, his eyebrow cocked.
“You’ll be wondering how I am able to carry so many possessions at once,” he said.
“Not particularly.”
“A decompression chamber bag,” Ignatius said proudly. “Patented gnome technology it is.”
“Very clever,” I said, feigning wonderment. In human terms, we just called that an inventory.
With these tongs, Ignatius carefully reached through the static field. The sparks didn’t bother him as they had me, and he grasped the crystal firmly between the metal prongs.
“I’d like to see the look on Master Whizzkrak’s face if he knew I was doing this,” Ignatius said with a barely concealed glee. “He’s the sour old burke I was sent to study under. Such a snore fest. And he thought gnomish technology could be mixed with the arcane if he deduced the exact formation of the crystalline structure of this gemstone.” He laughed as though I too was aware just how foolish this task was. “Although I suppose we’ll never get to see his reaction, on account of him being dead.”
My opinion of the gnome was swinging on a pendulum with everything he uttered. At last, he brought the crystal fully out of the static field. I stepped forward, arms out, eyes fixed on the money.
Ignatius opened the pouch on his belt and shoved the crystal inside.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Call it… insurance,” Ignatius said. “Escort me to the walls. Once I’m safely there and able to escape, you’ll get your payment.”
“You little—” I bit down my choicest phrase. “Sneak,” I landed on, feeling it wouldn’t piss him off too badly.
“Oh, I’m flattered,” Ignatius said. “You’ve been very biddable, Zoran, I must say. Now. To the walls!”
I couldn’t leave yet, I still had upgrades to do, traps to make. I couldn’t be sure I’d be able to come back here.
“Hold on,” I said, throwing out my arm. “I came here to upgrade my gear. Let me do that first, then we can be on our way.” I could tell Ignatius was working himself up into a good grumble, so I cut him off. “All the better to defend you with, your highness.”
The gnome scratched his chin. “And how were you planning on paying for these materials? You weren’t thinking of just freely looting the workshop were you?”
“Uh… D’you know what. Yeh. I was. I’m a scavenger and everybody else is dead.”
My point felt less impressive with the bodies of the other gnomes despawned.
“Ha, that’s fine by me,” Ignatius chortled. “None of this is my stuff. Take what you like.” As though to make his point, he aimed the grappling gun at one of the oil lamps and pulled the trigger. The hook flew, knocked the lamp over to smash upon the floor, then he pressed a button on the gun to recoil the rope at speed back into its chamber. “You should have mentioned this earlier. I’ll even help you. More optimal power to kill humans – I mean, these villains – is sound logic to me.”
27
After twenty minutes of crafting with Ignatius, I was assured of two things. First, he understood which traps and explosives were best suited for maximum pain. Second, I was well pleased we had developed a neutral alliance, rather than hostility. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of him.
“Careful,” I shouted, “These are explosives, you know.”
“Pish posh,” Ignatius said, lobbing another gnomish landmine in my direction.
I lunged for it, my hands swept clumsily through the air – I missed it.
The mine clunked to the ground, then skidded into a table leg.
My heart stopped. Ignatius winced and ducked.
Nothing happened.
“See,” the gnome said, between parted fingers. “Nothing to worry about. Even if it had gone off, there would barely be any structural damage to the building.”
“And what about me?”
“Oh, you’d be toasted. Hence, why I’m letting you have them to kill these villains – fighting undead is a nasty business.” He shivere
d. “That and you appear incapable of crafting anything better.”
I was also assured of a third thing about Ignatius Brightspark, he really was a prick.
With a weary sigh, I bent to collect the landmine.
Gnomish Land Mine
Item level 33
Explodes when stepped on
Damage: 700 – 740 fire
Radius: 5 feet
One-time use
They seemed very powerful, even for their level, although I supposed a player had to be foolish enough to stand on them. I’d need to find a way to make that happen. They were also far more powerful than anything I could make at my current Intelligence level. Placing this one in my inventory brought me up to 10 of them. While Ignatius had set about grabbing the choicest materials for himself, I’d cobbled together enough scraps to make better quality crossbow bolts – now with jagged arrowheads offering significantly better damage – along with more grenades and caltrops, fashioning the tier above those I’d made for the ambush.
Journeyman Grenades
Item level 20
Explodes upon impact
Damage: 250 – 280 fire
Radius: 10 feet
Cooldown: 5 seconds
Crafting a dozen of these grenades had finally got me up to rank 5 in Engineering and I acquired my first crafting bonus.
Engineering
Rank 5
Materials required to craft items below your Intelligence level reduced by 25%
+5% power to Engineering items you create
Looking over these perks, I was beginning to see the depth of the Hundred Kingdoms’ profession system take shape. The better ranked someone was in a profession, the better the items they could make and with fewer materials. It made sense to a point, as a master blacksmith should be able to craft better swords than a novice. Many reviewers had praised the system in theory during the beta, and Frostbyte indicated that the highest ranks players would be able to create fully customizable equipment; its aesthetics, it’s stat allocation, everything. If someone wanted to become the best blacksmith or tailor in the game, they could do so by investing into it. Professions would have meaning and give players identity.
Battle Spire Page 28