by Troy Osgood
And for the better.
Moving slow, cautiously, they made their way around the great tree and stopped.
Sitting with his back against the tree was Vertoyi.
He looked thinner, more emancipated, but stronger in some way. There was life to the Custodian where before there had been just madness. He wore a contented smile on his face, head leaning back against the tree with his eyes closed.
Hall saw a line of sap running down the trunk and behind the Druid. He traced the line up with his eyes and pointed, catching Leigh’s attention.
“Wasn’t that where the Demon’s Nail was?” he asked.
The Nail was no longer there, removed. A small hole in the trunk remained, a black scar in the bark.
She nodded, crouching down in front of Vertoyi.
One hand still held the broken staff, the other was laid across his leg, palm up. In that palm was a black ash. The Nail, Hall guessed, assuming that was what happened when the deal was rendered null and void. It had taken the last of Vertoyi’s strength to pull it out of the tree.
Quest Complete!
You have discovered that the Grove’s Custodian, an Elf named Vertoyi, had become corrupted, and desecrated the Grove through his dark power. You have managed to end the corruption of the Grove and the corruption of Vertoyi.
THE CORRUPTED GROVE
Find the Source of Corruption 1/1
End the Corruption of the Grove 1/1
Reward: +1000 Druids of the Tree Renown, +1000 Alliance with Leigh, +500 Experience
You are now “TRUSTED” with Leigh.
She is grateful for your aid and friendship.
Leigh went to stand up when Vertoyi coughed. She almost fell back while Hall gripped the spear, shifting it so he could stab down quickly.
The Custodian’s eyes opened slowly and he blinked, trying to focus.
“What is your name, child?” he asked, staring at a point over Leigh’s shoulder but somehow still able to see her. His voice was no longer as rough. It was softer but weak.
“Leigh,” she answered, kneeling on the ground in front of him.
“Thank you,” Vertoyi said, a small sad smile across his face. “You have saved me and the Grove.”
She didn’t say anything, unsure what to say to the obviously dying Elf.
“I was a fool,” he said, coughing, in almost a whisper that Hall had to strain to hear. “Jealous of the Elders, angry. I was easy prey for the Feardagh.”
He stopped talking, overcome with a coughing fit. The rasping sounded painful but Vertoyi still smiled, his unseeing eyes bright. Hall felt the sun breaking through the strange miasma that had shrouded the Grove. A beam fell across Vertoyi and the smile deepened.
“The Grove will need a Custodian,” he said, his eyes turning and focusing on Leigh. “Someone strong to undo the corruption I have caused. It will take someone special, someone dedicated. Will you be that someone?”
“I cannot,” Leigh replied, not moving, tears flowing down her face. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to be a Druid. I cannot care for a Grove.”
“But you can,” Vertoyi said with confidence, his words soft and encouraging. “You proved that today when your words broke me out of my confusion.”
“I am not worthy,” Leigh cried. “There are others.”
“The Grove chooses you,” Vertoyi said with a deeper cough, raspier.
His head fell back, his eyes closed. He reached up with his free hand, the black ash falling away and disappearing on the wind. Hall watched as Vertoyi touched his forehead, tracing a pattern across the skin. He pulled his hand back, and Hall saw that there was a small glowing object held between two fingers. It was a seed, a small one, glowing bright.
Vertoyi’s hand fell limp, still clutching the seed. His chest stopped moving, no breath escaping his lips.
Hall pulled up his Settlement menu and looked at the Population listing. It said one. No longer two, just him. Vertoyi was dead.
Leigh stared at the seed in Vertoyi’s hand. It still glowed, brighter than before. Pulsing, a call.
“You don’t have to take it,” he said.
“I know,” Leigh answered, her voice full of conviction, and reached out. “But I want to.”
She gently took the glowing seed from between Vertoyi’s fingers. She held it up, turning it every which way, examining all the sides. She looked up at the Branch, the piece of the World Tree, the reason that her order of Druids existed. The reason that the world still existed and Edin floated in the sky of Hankarth.
Smiling, tears running freely down her cheeks, Leigh placed the seed against her forehead. There was a bright flash, blinding, and when Hall’s vision cleared the seed was gone. There was not a mark on Leigh’s forehead, nothing to indicate she had gained some great knowledge or power.
But there was a change to the Grove. The purple of corruption was no longer as bright, hints of greens and browns appearing. They were small, fighting hard against the corruption, but Hall knew they would get stronger with time.
He looked up at the tree. Silver was appearing at the ends of the leaves, the cracks and pits starting to heal.
Opening the Settlement menu again, he saw the population was back at two.
“Come on,” he said, reaching a hand down to Leigh. “Let’s go back to town, neighbor.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Neighbor?” Leigh asked as she stood staring at the large tree.
“The Settlement Stone,” Hall explained. “It shows a population of two. It was Vertoyi and me, now it’s you and me. Apparently, the Grove is in the confines of the settlement.”
“So, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other,” she said, glancing at him with a coy smile.
“Yeah,” he said and was glad. “As long as you call me Lord Hall and pay your taxes,” he added. “Your Grove is in my lands.”
Leigh rolled her eyes. Hall laughed. It hurt to laugh but at that moment he didn’t care.
Together they walked across the stepping stones, crossing under the standing stones. They made their way across the meadow toward the thin part of the cliff where the entrance stones were. They saw two figures standing on the edge.
Roxhard and Sabine.
“I thought I told you to head to town,” Hall said.
“Yeah, well,” Roxhard started to say and shrugged.
“We didn’t,” Sabine said simply. “We got the quest completed prompt and stopped, figuring it was safe enough. What happened?”
Hall motioned to Leigh and let her explain. She did, quickly. It didn’t amount to much. She was the new Custodian and wasn’t quite sure yet what that meant.
“You’re going to fix all that?” Sabine asked, motioning to the corrupt Grove behind them.
“I hope so,” Leigh answered, looking over her shoulder.
Her face dropped as she realized the monumental task ahead of her.
“You can do it,” Roxhard said.
Leigh turned back and smiled.
“I don’t know about the rest of you but I need some serious rest,” Hall said.
They all nodded.
“And food,” Roxhard added.
Hall lay on his bedroll, blanket pulled up, staring at the rotted ceiling above him.
They were in the same building as before, where they had left their gear. A small fire, a quick meal, some more healing, and they had all laid down. There was no watch. Not this night. Hall had gone back and forth. They weren’t in truly safe territory but he felt safe enough.
And they all needed the rest.
But it wasn’t coming for Hall.
He didn’t know why. He was tired. His body ached. He wanted to sleep but it wasn’t coming.
Instead, he was staring at the ceiling.
A ceiling that belonged to a building in his village.
His village. He was wondering if he had made a mistake. He didn’t want to be a leader, let alone a mayor or governor or whatever he was now.
Which wa
s nothing. Not at the moment. And he could control what happened. He didn’t have to rebuild the village, expand it or find citizens. They could fix up enough housing for just them and make it a just a base of operations.
But he knew himself. He wouldn’t stop there. He had already been thinking about what rebuilding Skara Brae would mean, what the town would need.
He opened up the Settlement Menu and started looking through all the options. He looked through the text on government and was surprised to see there were options. He had expected there to be only the one. It appeared that the Lord of the town could control how much power they had over the day to day operations.
Rank II Settlement Available Forms Of Government
Mayoral: The Lord of the Settlement, or chosen representative, is the sole voice of rulership. There can be a council that assists but they would be advisers only. The Mayor is responsible for all final decisions.
Lord’s Council: The Lord and chosen representatives, chosen by election or appointment, make the decisions together. The council has a say in the decisions but the final decision is up to the Lord. The Lord can follow the council’s advice or chose another direction.
Town Council: A council of representatives, chosen by election or appointment, which can but does not need to include the Lord, make all decisions by vote. The majority vote wins and decides the final decision. The Lord can override if they so choose but would most likely not as they appoint the council to run the day to day operations of the settlement.
Hall liked the last option. He had no desire to deal with the day to day operations of running a village. He just wanted the village and to make it grow and turn into something. At the same time, he still wanted to be free to adventure.
He spent about an hour looking through the menus, seeing what was there and getting an idea of what his next move would be.
That scared him. He was thinking long term.
Getting up, careful not to disturb anyone, Hall headed for the front opening of the house. Pike did not move from where he lay curled up next to Angus but the cow did raise his head. He saw it was Hall and lay back down, going back to sleep. Hall walked outside where it was darker down below the ground. He made his way around to the nearest set of stairs.
The moon shone down, providing light now that he was out of the shadows of the buildings. It was a bright night, and he could see the edge of the island not that far away. He started walking in that direction.
He stopped about five feet from the edge. Close enough that he could see the edge, the grass growing and tufts of dirt hanging over with nothing below, just held up by roots connected to the rest of the meadow. It was a jagged line, the edge of Edin. Sharp points, long and thin pieces extended out and in. It appeared as if the rest had just been snapped away.
As it had.
Hall could see some of the other islands. Darker shadows in the dark of night. The stars were above, some blocked by higher islands.
Previously, before the glitch, he had not been a long-term planner. He played, he leveled, he did dungeons. He didn’t think about what the best build was, what path he should follow to be the best at endgame. He just played.
He had known others that planned everything out. They plotted their path of progression from Level 1 to max level, knowing what they needed for equipment and skills to be the best at endgame. The problem was that the endgame had always been changing. It was a moving target. New content was added on a regular basis, just as people got bored with the old.
But now Hall realized he needed to plan long term. He needed to think about where to go and how to get there, especially if he was going to grow Skara Brae.
He needed to be smart about it.
It wasn’t just about him. Not anymore.
He wondered when he had finally accepted that this was truly his life. He had believed them to be stuck in the game, there was no other real choice but to think that way. But in the back of his head he had thought there was always a chance. When had that changed?
Why had it changed?
Hall sat down on the grass, feeling the ever-present wind passing along the meadow. It felt cool against his skin, refreshing. He looked over his shoulder, surveying the land between the ridge and the mountains, the land that was now his.
It was rugged, unwelcoming, but it was his.
He looked up at the stars and smiled.
It wasn’t like the previous life was anything special.
But this one? This new life?
It could be something very special.
Epilogue
He pulled the knife out, feeling the blood splash onto his gloved hand. Cursing, the thrust messier than he had wanted, he stepped back and let the body fall to the ground. It landed with a thud that sounded like it could be heard for miles around.
Looking down both ends of the long and dark alley, Davit waited in the deeper shadows, ears alert for any sound. There was none. No running feet, no cries of alarm.
He bent down and carefully but quickly searched the body. A Gael shopkeep, this one a tailor. Just another body. This kill made an even half dozen. Ever since Auld and that Skirmisher, Hall, dismissing him, Davit had been forced to move from city to city. A growing trail of bodies behind him.
That group had been the only other Players he had seen. Just him and a lot of NPCs.
Even here, in Cold’s Ridge, a port town on the island of Huntley, there were no other Players. He had finally managed to leave Auld, killing another NPC to get the money to book passage. Davit had wanted to return to Cumberland, start fresh, but unable to, he had instead chosen Huntley as a destination. He had hoped to find another group of Players, others to join up with. Others that could protect him.
He didn’t want to kill, not really, but he was good at it and they were just NPCs, after all. They’d respawn, and if they didn’t, not a big deal. Before the glitch, before getting trapped here, he had killed NPCs every chance he got. Had driven the ex-girlfriend crazy. He had fun with it. No harm, no foul. Now was different. There were consequences. Armed and angry consequences.
Guards.
It wasn’t fair. He was a Player. They were NPCs.
And this dead NPC was poor.
Only twenty silver and nothing else of value.
Pocketing the money, Davit left the alley and stepped out onto the hard-packed dirt of the streets. Cold’s Ridge lived up to its name. There was a light covering of snow across the frozen ground. He could see his breath in the air. Hunching down, pulling his arms in tighter, Davit started walking down the street. There were few people out, drunks mostly. Nights in the Ridge, as the locals called it, were cold and windy, and the smart people were inside already.
He made his way through the dark streets, taking random turns in case he was being followed. There were not that many Bodin in Cold’s Ridge, so he stood out. There were not that many Bodins in most cities or towns. There had been before, when there had been more Players, but not now. He stood out. Too much for his liking.
Davit hated being a Bodin. He had never liked it.
He turned down the street that led to the abandoned house he was staying in and stopped. Out front were four armed guards and what looked like two men. All turned toward him as he stepped into the light from one of the few street lamps in the small town.
“That’s him,” one of the men shouted, pointing. “That’s the Bodin.”
“You there,” a guard said as all four turned and started his way.
The numbers against him, Davit turned and ran. He slipped and stumbled on the icy ground, hearing the running boot steps of the guards close behind. He cursed, grunting as he slammed into the corner of a building, turning into an alley.
A dead end.
Drawing his two rapiers, Davit turned and faced the open end of the alley. The guards drew their weapons, stepping into the alley two abreast.
“You’re under arrest for theft and murder,” one of them said.
He wondered how he had messed up, h
ow they had found him. It didn’t matter. He’d have to kill the four guards and leave Cold’s Ridge. There were no airships tonight, so it was into the wilds of Huntley and make for one of the other ports. Level four now, the idea of being in the wilds wasn’t as daunting.
The alley worked in his favor, only allowing two of the guards to approach at a time.
Fifteen feet, ten feet, the guards approached with caution.
Sounds of fighting, grunts of pain, came from the front of the alley. The two guards turned at the commotion, and Davit attacked. He took a couple steps and slid across the ground using the icy surface to his advantage. He stabbed with one blade, sliced with the other. The guard screamed in pain as one rapier sliced his hamstring, the other stabbing into his lower back. Slipping and sliding, falling, Davit pushed up with the blades, catching the guard in the back and using the momentum to make the guard fall to the ground behind him.
Jumping up, he turned to the second guard only to find a sword stabbing into the man’s chest. The guard fell back without a word.
Davit could barely see the owner of the sword. He was tall, a Wood Elf, that was all the detail visible in the dark alley.
“Boss wants a word with you,” the Elf said, no threat in his voice, just friendliness.
Davit realized the Elf was a Player.
Any reluctance and caution he might have felt fled. Davit was excited to see another Player and one that had quickly, and without hesitation, killed town guards.
Walking out of the alley, the Elf following, Davit saw the bodies of the other guards. Both looked to have their heads crushed, the bodies leaning awkwardly against the walls. Smiling, wanting to laugh, he stepped out onto the street. Lamps gave pockets of light against the dark, and standing in one of those pockets was a large man with a female Norn, a Shaman, and a female Elf, a Skirmisher, standing behind him.