13
Spirit
8
Willpower
8
Cunning
14
Active Abilities
Medley
All party members recover 1 HP every 5 seconds
Morph
Assume the outward appearance of a target PC, NPC, or monster (granted by Deceiver’s Reflector)
Passive Abilities
Swords 20/100
Serviceable aptitude with bladed weapons
Can wield light blades.
Strings 60/100
Modest aptitude with stringed instruments
Can play modestly complex songs
Can access spell-songs on enchanted lute
Everything seemed to be in order at first glance, except his health dropped down from 30 points to just 15 points. He also lost 2 points in cunning, which he invested back when he first leveled his Bard.
These drop were expected since he lost a level during the reset, but he remembered starting off with 20 health points as a level 1 Bard.
His biggest loss, however, was his ability to play Ditty. The Bard skill would have bolstered the accuracy and evasion ratings of his party, helped out a little more.
He pointed all these changes out to Casadraggrio, who just shrugged as he slumped—apparently drained from drawing on his meager computational resources to tweak Argo’s character sheet.
“You lost a level, reset your ranks. Of course you’re going to lose stats. And the health drop? That’s most likely because of cross-classing as a Spy. Like your friend here mentioned earlier, spies primarily gather information—not bash heads in with the warriors. Balance in everything, like that stuck-up Over Monitor loves to drone over and over again.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Henk cut in. “Even if your new Spy class is less focused on combat, I wouldn’t neglect your bardic skills too much. Your songs can still help out when our party is engaged in combat, even when you hang back far away from combat. Sure, you were pretty much muzzled in the Crystalweb Cavern because you had to conserve the charges on the Lute of Decimar, but that won’t be an issue in most other dungeon runs. Bardic buffs and debuffs can go a long way in prolonged encounters.
“You’ll need to build up your Cunning and Dexterity anyway. Your natural stat growth will benefit both the songs you play as a Bard and the infiltration techniques you’ll use as a Spy. You won’t get the invisibility spells of the Illusionist or the camouflage skills of the Scout, but you can still move faster while crouching and dampening your footsteps.”
“Um,” Argo said, his old nerves coming back at the thought of moving along. He stuffed them down though, with the prospect of becoming someone actually useful for the Crew. “I… can’t wait to get started.”
“Good,” replied Henk, “because I’ve already got a mission lined up for you.”
Argo froze for a second. “You have? What is it?”
“Well, it’s linked to the quest we were discussing last night, you remember? The one escorting the merchant through the Giantglint Mountains,” said Henk. He went over to one of the reading tables and sat down, waving Argo over to join him.
“Remember what you promised,” Casadraggrio sounded out as he crossed his arms. “One day riding around in your head, seeing what you see in your world.”
Henk grunted at the Sentient NPC, his lips curling into a frown. “I know. But no shenanigans, yeah? First sign of brainjacking and you’ll only wish the Over Monitor deletes your code.”
Argo shot up at Henk’s words, his eyes widening at what he heard. “Henk… no. It’s too dangerous!”
Henk waved him away. “I don’t think Cas will go for it. I’ve known him for quite some time already. And besides…” He shot an evil grin at the NPC in question, who was picking out a book from one of the nearby shelves. “I’ve got contingency plans in place if he does decide to try and jack my brain.”
“Save your threats for someone who deserves them,” grumbled Casadraggrio dismissively as he leafed through the virtual pages of the book he held. “I just want to see more of your world, compare the sensations against this game I was born into. Or I guess coded into, if that’s what you call the creation magic of your world.”
“And there you have it,” Henk replied dismissively. “So… about the mission, you still up for it?”
“Um… yes, I guess so,” Argo said sheepishly. “How can I help with that?”
“The quest is pretty straightforward: protect the merchant from bandits, wild orcs and goblins, and so on. Basic escort stuff, ranked for a level 5 party,” Henk said. “I thought it would be a pretty simple exercise, considering the current levels of the Crew. But I’ve been hearing a lot of reports that many of the players and adventuring groups that take it on get their butt handed to them. An unusual number end up failing the quest, wiping out and getting their gear stolen.
“Apparently, a bandit gang made up of about forty wild orcs and trolls will sometimes come down from the mountains and attack the merchant escort. Higher-level players ignore this quest, the escort rewards being too low, but it’s a big pain in the neck for the level 4’s and 5’s running it. Not only do they fail, but the raider mobs loot your corpse.”
“A simple escort mission with a risk of forty bandits swarming all over us? That’s a scary thought. Why… um… why do we want to risk it?” Argo asked, trying to hide his nerves at the thought of having to eat yet another fiasco.
“Don’t just look at the escort rewards, Argo. Ask yourself: where did all the captured loot go?”
Argo blinked once, twice, then widened his eyes at what Henk had in mind. “Oh. You don’t want to just finish the escort quest. You want the bandits themselves.”
“Exactly!” Henk shot back with a grin. “It’ll be good for morale after what happened in Crystalweb Cavern. And with Aaheli’s new schedule coming up, we have a short window of time to pull off the raid. Sonia’s got a lot of schoolwork and exams coming up as well, so her time will have to be rationed. I don’t think we could do this with just me, you and the two boys, so I figured we bring the fight to the bandits, hit them where it hurts instead of waiting for them to hit us.”
Argo inhaled deeply, balling his hands into fists to control his nerves. “Okay… so what do you need me to do?”
“The bandit gang operates out of a walled compound nestled high up in the mountains. It’s pretty much impregnable, and players who’ve tried to attack it head-on have bitten the dust. I was thinking with your Morphing ability you could easily sneak in, blend in among them. These bandits should possess pretty low Cunning levels, so they shouldn’t be able to see through you if you play it right.”
The prospect of going into an enemy stronghold all alone didn’t sound very appealing, but after Henk had gone to all the trouble of providing him this new class, Argo didn’t want to appear ungrateful by refusing to go. Instead, he kept the worry off his face and nodded in thought. “Okay, and what do I do when I’m in?”
“Wait until dark when they are sleeping, and open the main gate,” Henk said. “We’ll be waiting for you. We will then slip inside.”
“We’re going to attack them in their own base?” Argo exclaimed.
“If things work out right, we won’t have to face them head on,” replied Henk. “Once you are in, you need to locate where they store the loot and gear they’ve stolen. And when we join you, we’re going to take as much as we can. After that, Sonia will detonate a couple of gnomish oilfire bombs.
“The compound is made up of mostly tents and huts, so it should catch fire pretty easily. In all the confusion, we will escape, and hopefully the whole place will burn down, taking with it the best part of the gang. With their base gone, those that are killed won’t be able to respawn, and with any luck the survivors will scatter. Once we’re done, we’ll start the merchant quest with extra equipmen
t and without the added worry of the gang to contend with. What do you say?”
The prospect of running this raid had Argo on edge. There was a lot riding on him getting this right. One slip-up, and he wouldn’t have anyone to bail him out of a bad situation. On the flipside, he would play a pivotal role in pulling off this mission. He would finally be useful to the Crew, prove that he was more than just dead weight they lugged around with them.
Then again, the price of failure…
“I’m not so sure,” he admitted with a slight quiver in his voice. “It’s a pretty risky mission and I don’t want to let you guys down. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to get in and open the gates.”
“There’s no guarantee, of course,” replied Henk, “but it doesn’t hurt to try. Besides, nobody is going to think any less of you if things go south. All I’m asking is you give your new life a try. That’s what Delby asked me to do when he introduced me to Drake Realm all those years ago. If I hadn’t entered the game world, plunged into both success and failure, then I might not even be here right now. This is a game, Argo. You can take all the risks you want and come back fit as a fiddle, remembering what you did right and learning from what you did wrong. Just take a chance; you never know what you can do until you try.”
Argo wavered for a few moments, bit his lip as he thought, and finally nodded as he came to a decision. “Okay. I’ll do it. Like you said: what else have I got to lose?”
Henk grinned at him. “Great, buddy. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
“One thing I don’t get: even if I’m disguised as a wild orc, I’ll still be a stranger to the rest of the gang,” Argo said. “Even if they don’t see through the disguise, won’t they want to know who I am and where I come from?”
“Don’t worry,” the Paladin replied. “I have a little plan to get you in under their noses. All you have to do is stay out of the way until nightfall.”
Argo nodded. “How are you going to do that?”
Henk gave him a crafty smile. “I’m going to send them a little present, and you’ll be going along with it as an extra surprise.”
Chapter Six: Infiltration
Urzug Scourgesicker watched with anticipation as the small wagon was pulled up the narrow mountain path by one of the trolls to the gates of his compound. The wagon had been heading through the Gaunter Pass when the raiding party he’d sent out swooped down and seized it.
Its driver, a spineless gnome, fled as soon as the raiding party showed themselves. The miserable coward slipped into the mountains before Gutsboy—the leader of the party—could send any of his minions after her. It didn’t really matter, though. They had secured the wagon’s cargo and that was all that mattered.
The orc eyed the casks of ale eagerly, pleased that none of the rabble in the raiding party had opened any of them before getting here. The last time anyone had taken something before he’d had a chance to look at the goods for himself, he’d had the offender flayed alive and his skin turned into a thick, leathery cloak. That cloak became a constant reminder to all about the consequences of going against his rule.
The wagon was drawing closer now and Urzug stared down from his position on the wall at the guards below. “Open the gates!” he roared.
The guards scrambled to obey, and the troll pulling the wagon lumbered into the courtyard and slowed to a stop. The rest of the raiding party followed the monster in before the gates were quickly slammed shut.
Word had quickly gotten around about the unexpected windfall and the rest of the gang began emerging from the squalid dwellings that made up the compound. They’d been reduced to drinking goblin vodka for as long as Urzug could remember and they were running low even on that. Lack of alcohol always caused problems with discipline, and Urzug needed to start executing the more mutinous warriors when that happened.
It hadn’t helped that the pickings from travellers coming through the mountains had been lean too. They hadn’t had an adventuring party trying their luck for a long time, and already there were grumblings of discontent. Then one of the scouts had spotted the wagon coming through and hurried back to report it. Urzug sent out a raiding party to wait at the pass just beside a steep ravine. His brilliant plan, as usual, reinforced his place as the rightful leader of their growing camp.
It was only a matter of time until the rest of the world recognized his brilliance, bowed down to his iron will.
Already, cheers were going up as he made his way down the steps leading down from the wall, and several of his men grinned as he approached the wagon. Gutsboy looked particularly pleased with himself.
“Here you are, chief,” he said smugly. “Look at all these casks I got for the camp. There’s enough ale here to keep us in our cups for the next month!”
Urzug frowned, nodded, and inspected the wagon. Gutsboy was getting too cocky and fancied he could take Urzug’s place. Urzug would have to do something about him soon, before any of the others started to think that Gutsboy could be a better leader. Make a show out of his execution, rip off his head, just to remind the others who really was in charge.
But before that… a little lesson in humility, cut the upstart down to size before actually cutting him into pieces.
The orc leader looked up at the wall and raised his arm. The large, disease-ridden buzzard perched on the wooden palisade enclosing the compound swooped down instantly and landed on Urzug’s outstretched arm.
“Srev reports you let the wagon driver escape,” Urzug said, giving his subordinate a hard look. “Sloppy. They could have had some loot on them we could have used. I expect better from my men. I should have you flogged.”
A couple of orcs, who were in earshot, turned and sniggered as they watched Gutsboy’s dressing down. Gutsboy scowled and gave Urzug a defiant look. “I got the ale. That’s all what matters, chief. Who cares about a sniveling gnome? She weren’t carrying nothing when she ran off.”
Urzug made to shout him down for insolence and then decided to bide his time, in case the others took the lieutenant’s side. It was better to wait until they were all drunk on ale before he made his move. He gave Gutsboy a fang-filled grin and clapped him on the shoulder. “Aye, the ale is all that matters, ain’t that right lads?”
A cheer went up from the rest of the bandits, and Gutsboy relaxed. “Yeah, boss. I did well, didn’t I? You was smart to tell where to attack though. It’s all down to you.”
Stupid weevil brain thought he could soften me up with slick words, Urzug thought. Still, he let him believe that he couldn’t see what he was up to. It would make killing him that much sweeter.
Urzug ambled over to the wagon and Srev hopped onto his shoulder. The other gang members stepped aside as he hoisted up one of the caskets and pulled out the stopper. He lifted it up and let the delicious tasting ale pour down his throat. That was good stuff. Dwarf brew, if he wasn’t mistaken. They did well capturing this consignment.
“All right, you maggots,” he bellowed, feeling the crisp, fruity drink warm his throat and stomach before leaving a pleasant buzz in its wake. “Get this wagon over to the storehouse and start unloading it. We’re gonna have a feast! Krempy, we got some salted rat dogs in the ice cellar, right? Break them out and get them on the spit! We’re gonna have a celebration to remember!”
The rest of the bandits let out a loud cheer and the troll who had pulled the wagon took it towards the larger wooden hut at the far end of the compound that served as the storehouse. The others followed eagerly to start unloading it. Urzug watched Gutsboy as he swaggered after them, and noted which of the men congratulated the orc for the capture of the wagon. When he’d seen to his lieutenant, he would make sure they were executed as well. The gang had gotten too complacent. It was good for morale to instill a bit of fear in them from time to time.
Laughing at the thought of what he was going to do to Gutsboy and his cronies, Urzug took another swig of ale and headed back to his quarters.
* * *
Gained 5 XP for successfully infiltrating the Scourgesicker Encampment! Bonus 5 XP for infiltrating undetected!
Argo bit back the temptation to chuckle. His first 10 experience points as a Spy, all from lying on his stomach underneath a large pile of smelly, scratchy, and totally uninteresting burlap sacks. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was still XP. All he needed was 90 more to hit level 2, and unlock a new skill point.
Argo peeped out of his refuge and scoped out his surroundings. The wagon was now at the storehouse, and the orcs and trolls were busy unloading the ale casks. Fortunately for him, one of the orcs stepped on the clawed foot of the troll who had been pulling the wagon. The big brute responded with a fierce backhand that sent the other monster flying into two of his comrades. They soon started punching and kicking him in turn, and a brawl suddenly erupted all around the wagon.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Argo slipped out from underneath the sacks while all eyes were on the fight. He inhaled deeply, biting his tongue as he mentally triggered the command to activate Morph.
Spy: Reborn Page 14