There is an audible gasp from Varbu and a quick shaking of his head. “You want to go there? Are you sure? It's really, really scary and there are things there that eat you alive! Way too scary for me to go there. If you really, really want to go, then I will show you where on the map. But I really don't recommend it.”
“We really do want to go. What are we to do there?” asks Grace.
“Well, if you must. The creatures in the dungeon are expanding and taking all the wildlife where I normally find the best and rarest mounts. It's at least two to three days away by foot, and unfortunately only one person can go in at a time, so make sure you are prepared before you go! Find as many mounts as you can that are alive and bring them back here. I'll let your friends keep one each out of all of the ones you bring back.”
Mount Quest Unlocked: Save the mounts.
Rarity: Rare.
Details: Travel to the dungeon with the creatures expanding their territory. Cull them back and save as many mounts as you can. Of the mounts you personally save, you will be able to keep the one you want. You may trial them all out on the way back to get a feel of them. That is if you actually complete the solo quest and also save more than one.
Conditions: Cull creatures and save mounts.
Failure: Not saving a single mount.
Reward: Mount of your choice from those saved by you.
Accept quest?
Yes/No
We all accept the quest now that I can't just accept it for them. I hope that the rest of our friends will be able to complete the quest safely. We had better load them up with potions and such before we leave.
“Oh, thank you so much, Varbu! You are amazing!” Grace gushes.
“Oh, dear! You are making my heart go all aflutter!” Varbu fans himself with his hand before heading over to us. “You are all going to need the Riding skill, so here you all go!”
He goes around to each of us, grabbing our hands, and when he gets to me, a notification pops up.
Congratulations! You have learnt the Riding skill. You may now ride any ground mount. However, some mounts require a higher skill than others. Keep that in mind.
Sybaal: Finally. Alright, amazing job, Grace. Now let's clear out.
Grace: Easier said than done. However…
“Oh, thank you so, so much, Varbu! What would we have done without you? Well, we had better get there as fast as we can so that we can save as many of the mounts as possible! See you soon, Varbu!” Grace abruptly turns around and starts heading to the yard entrance.
We all turn to follow.
“Oh! Very well then, be safe, my darlings! I want to see each and every one of you when you return. We can all have ourselves a tea party! With real tea!” he says loudly as we leave.
“I don't think I ever want to see an orc act like that again. I'm permanently scarred.” Kazzrak shudders.
“Get used to it. We have to come back to hand the quest in, after all.” Dosan laughs. “We might even be roped into a full-blown tea party. Kazzrak sitting around drinking tea out of a teeny tiny cup really amuses me, you know?”
“Don't remind me,” Kazzrak mutters as he consults his map and we turn towards the gate of the town.
Turning to the NPCs of our group, I frown. “Are you all going to be okay with the dungeon? I really don't want to lose any of you as well.”
“We will be fine. We are quite stocked in all manner of potions, and with this new armour, we should be able to survive quite well,” Halvard replies with a grin.
“We wouldn't be here if we didn't think we could keep up with you guys,” Lurra says, examining a claw she flicks out of her finger. How that works, I will never really understand.
Eloise looks sideways at me. “You know I can turn into a rock golem, right? I'll be fine.”
“Likewise, my spirits and I can fight solo if we need to. It isn't an issue, so stop worrying about it. If the creatures are too high a level when we get there, then we won't go in,” Kendak says calmly.
“See, they got this sorted, Sybaal. Relax.” Dosan grins. “I, however, need all new minions, seeing as how Morrigan killed all mine. Thankfully, I can now have three Bonded out at once, which is pretty darn cool.”
“That really is cool, considering how powerful they are,” I say, grinning at him. “Still not going to talk about it?”
Dosan twitches. “Nope. Not yet.”
“Righto,” I say, and we continue walking out the gates. These are on the opposite side to where we entered, and thankfully in the direction we need to go. I double-check the map and see that we can follow this road, which goes all the way to the capital, for about a third of the way. At that point, we will need to move off into the forest and find the dungeon.
“We should probably keep to the road so that we can make the best time possible,” I suggest to the others. “Thoughts?”
“But I wanted to use our new relics!” pouts Dosan.
“I'm fine with that, though we should jog most of the way there and only walk when we are recovering our stamina. I'd rather this be a two-day hike, not a three-day hike,” Ezekial says.
“Three days? Is that how long it would take to walk?” asks Kendak.
“Yep, sure will,” Ezekial replies.
Casting haste on everyone, Kendak begins jogging. “Well, I for one don't want to be walking any longer than I have to. Let's go get us some mounts.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Halvard says, walking slightly faster to keep up with the shorter goblin. “I like your spirit!”
Kendak looks at Halvard weirdly before realising he was talking about his want to get there faster, not the haste buff he just gave Halvard.
“How about some drunken dwarven songs to get the blood flowing?” Kazzrak laughs, pulling out a flagon and taking a deep drink from it. “Far over the misty mountains cold…”
Sighing while trying to block my ears, I jog along with the rest of them to the monotonous lyrics of Kazzrak's half-remembered songs.
Least he is trying to stay in character and doesn't start singing AC/DC. Not that I would have minded though.
13
We make it to the point where we need to enter the forest by 22:24 game time.
“That's it. I'm done for today. Me and my tent are about to get acquainted after some hot food. Making us nibble on jerky the entire way here without even a decent break. Slave drivers!” Lurra slowly snowballs into a feisty rant as she stalks off the road towards the forest. Pulling out her tent, she throws it to the ground near to the treeline, well away from the road.
With other grumbles of agreement, we all set up camp in a circle around a central seating area. Ezekial produces a bunch of decent-sized branches as firewood and lays them out like he knows what he's doing in lighting a fire. Which, as it happens, he does. Next, he whips out a cauldron of stew and attaches it to some functional metal rods stuck into the ground over the fire.
“Sybaal, if you would, please?” he asks.
Creating a tiny fireball, I gently toss it onto the wood, where it still does a tiny explosion and ignites the wood all at once. Within minutes, the contents of the pot are beginning to simmer.
Kazzrak has already passed around several flagons of something of the stronger-than-beer variety. One makes its way onto my lap, and I give it a bit of a sniff before holding my breath and taking a chug.
As far as mead goes, it tastes pretty darn good. However, it's the kick in the throat afterwards that puts me on my arse, making me splutter and cough.
“Damn. That's some good dwarven mead. Where did you get it from?” Halvard inquires after taking such a large draught that I believe he may have drained the entire flagon.
“Ezekial found it for me earlier today while you were all sleeping your wiles away.” Kazzrak shares a grin with Ezekial.
“Ah, very good. That hit the spot indeed.” One moment Halvard is fine and dandy; the next, he keels over backwards with a great crash and begins to snore, much to the amusement of the rest of u
s.
“Guess he wasn't hungry,” Dosan says, licking his lips. “More for me, then. When's it ready?”
“Soon. Stop being impatient. Have some of your own stocks if you want to eat that badly,” Lurra admonishes.
Almost like a light bulb goes off above his head, Dosan pulls out a huge juicy chunk of meat on the bone and begins gnawing on it.
No class, I tell you, no class.
“Ho the camp!” comes a shout from outside our circle of tents. “Are you accepting visitors?”
Looking around at each other and kicking myself for not organising the tents so we had line of sight outside them, I call out, “We always accept friends into our camp. What be you, friend or foe?”
“Friend of course!” A gnarled old man comes into sight between the tents. He is dressed in mismatching ragged, old-looking gear, using a staff almost as gnarled as he is to hobble up to us. The firelight glints off a medallion hanging from his neck, showing two circles of different sizes connected with a line.
The old-timer grin and the glint in his eye gives away that he is still full of life, even with his outward appearance. I shift myself over so that he may sit beside me. Friends close and enemies closer and all that jazz.
Just because someone comes close with smiles doesn't mean they aren't going to stab you in the back later. I don't know enough about this world yet to allow myself to be complacent, as my lesson with the tent placement has just taught me.
“Thank you for letting my old bones warm by your fire,” the old man says gratefully.
“Well, we are about to serve dinner. Would you like some as well?” Lurra says as she gets up, pulling a ladle and bowl out of her bag. She fills it up and hands it to the old man first, who accepts. “Many thanks.”
Pulling some bread out of my bag, I pass it around. Lurra continues to give everyone some stew while Kazzrak hands the old man a flagon of mead. He looks at it for a moment before smiling down at his food and drink and looking at us with shining eyes.
“You are all so kind. Thank you.” The old man bows his head slightly to us before taking a deep drink of mead and smacking his lips together happily with a smile afterwards. “What a drop! So clean and pure.”
As if that is the cue to eat, we all dig in. Taking a chunk of bread, I mop up the stew and shovel it in. Ah, so much flavour. There isn't much conversation happening as we eat, at least until after we have all gone back for seconds.
“So, what brings you out to these parts, then?” asks Ezekial, setting his bowl aside and taking a small sip of mead. Our attention moves to the old man.
“Well, being an old wandering tinker, I just go where my mood fancies these days,” he replies after clearing his throat. “When I was younger, I travelled these parts quite extensively with a group of friends myself.”
“Indeed? Were you a tinker back then, or maybe a trader?” Kendak asks, beginning to slur his words a little.
“Well, I was an adventurer much like yourselves, I would imagine,” the tinker replies with a smile. “Sure, I did some trading here and there, but mostly I was hunting for treasure and glory. I guess I was pretty cocky back then, before I grew up. Stumbling across all sorts of monsters and slaying them without a care in the world.
“I used to fight in wars that I thought were righteous at the time, only to realise I'd been played and switched like the two-copper mercenary I turned into. Ah, the good old days. I once sailed the entire Treacherous Strait too. From Glenhoven to the bottom of Branderhoon Falls.”
“Is that far? We aren't well versed with the region yet,” Dosan asks around a mouthful of food.
“Far? We had fair winds the entire way, travelling at a good clip for all five weeks we were on that river, beset by brigands, cut-throats, pirates and foolish buccaneers. Sure, we spent a week grounded from a particularly nasty hole in the hull, but we patched that right up and kept going,” the tinker says with a reminiscing smile and a glimmer in his eyes.
“You sound like you enjoyed it the whole time.” I smile at the old man’s stories.
“Of course! Such excitement! Being a young whippersnapper like yourself, you would understand the fire that flows in your veins with anticipation when staring down the blade of a master swordsman. Especially one who just jumped on deck with the rest of his boarders. Or going toe to toe with an elementalist or a fire Genasi, who actually does have fire in their veins. Not the best person to have on a ship, as their blood burnt a fair few holes in our deck that time.”
He laughs suddenly. “That may or may not have been what put the hole in the hull as well. I never was able to convince the captain otherwise.”
We all laugh at that one.
“How about you all? Have you had any interesting adventures in your travels so far? A tinker I may be now, but a collector of tales is something I have a passion for.” He wriggles his bushy eyebrows at us.
Laughing, Kendak grins at the old man while wriggling his own eyebrows right back at him. “Do we ever! Sybaal there just happens to be the Duke of the Glade of Everhein!”
A shocked look crosses the tinker’s face as he looks at me. “I've been breaking bread with a duke? My word! I haven't heard of any dukes in this region before. Your Grace, are you beholden to King Matonius, the ruler of the Genasi kingdom?”
Eloise laughs this time. “Oh no! With the help of his friends here, Sybaal defeated the Guardian of the Glade of Everhein and was then tasked with the quest of freeing the Glade from a sorcerer who was experimenting with a tainted virus.”
“How did that make him a duke?” The old man frowns at Eloise.
Lurra chimes in, “From what I've been told, Lord Varim, the sorcerer who took over the fortress in the Glade, died in a very unmanly way. Something caught in his throat and gave him a taste of his own medicine. These adventurers saved my people from his experiments, my brother among them. These deeds, and because the Guardian is now Bonded to Dosan here, are what created a need for a new protector of the Glade.”
“Oh, I see. That explains it, then,” the old man says while giving Dosan a sly look.
Eloise pipes back up. “So, then they all come traipsing to my village and put our lazy nymph butts to work. They took us to the base of a mountain apparently filled with ore, where we found a kobold village being overrun by giant rats. I tell you what, those things were huge. Dosan even Bonded the Giant Rat King.”
Another round of the old man's eyebrows reaching new heights as he looks at Dosan. “You Bonded a Giant Rat King as well? You must be a very powerful summoner.”
Dosan brushes a speck of dust off his shoulder. “Well, you know, I had to save the day somehow. However, I'm feeling a bit tired, and this dwarven mead has really hit hard. I'm going to hit the sack, guys.”
Another round of laughter ensues as Dosan ambles drunkenly off into his tent and presumably logs off.
When we quiet down again, Kendak continues, “Well, they were only released because our old chief was a money-grubbing hoarder and made us blow a new hole in the mine. We found mithril, but also all those rats. When these adventurers came and told us who they were and that they defeated the Giant Rat King, our old chief tried to have us kill them! Well, our new chief, now Viscount Kleemek, went and lopped the bastard's head off, and we became vassals of the duke.”
“What great tales! So much has happened to you all,” the old man says excitedly.
“Oh, it doesn't end there,” says Kendak with another eyebrow waggle. “Then we went and had an all-out brawl with three hundred ursine who had gathered to defeat the sorcerer. They decided to have a good old dust-up with us because they were getting restless. Weird folk, those ursine. We absolutely annihilated them with Ifalna's raid tactics and some magnificent tanking by Kazzrak and Halvard.”
“That's when we all travelled to Tarnstead, where we upgraded our gear and abilities, among other things,” Ezekial continues before stopping abruptly and looking down.
“Oh? What other things would those be? From yo
ur expressions, it doesn't look like a good thing,” the old man asks.
“We lost one of our group due to a rogue with an overpowered relic weapon. There is a silver lining though. Knax's soul has been fused with a bar of mithril to become Soul Metal,” I say quietly before strengthening my voice. “We now know we can give him a new body of a Soul Forged; we just have to find out how to do it.”
“Soul Forged? Now there is something I haven't heard about for a very, very long time. If you want answers, you might be best off looking in the Genasi capital city, Solime,” the old man says gravely. “Look up an inn called the Sprocket Haven. You should be able to continue your path there. You all seem like you are trying to do good in the world, so I will help you out that much at least.”
“That's what I was told in Tarnstead, although we didn't get anything specific. Thank you for that. By the way, what's your name?” asks Ezekial with a frown, and I realise we never were properly introduced.
“Funny that. I've actually gone by many names in the past, when I've had to change locations for fear of my live. However, because of your hospitality and you all genuinely seem like trustworthy people, especially you, Sybaal—” the old man turns and nods in my direction “—I will tell you my name if you accept my gift.”
He then takes off the medallion from around his neck and holds it out to me in both hands. “I believe my tale is coming to an end. I wish to pass something on to you, which, if I'm correct, will be of much more use to you than it has been to me. A gift you won't really appreciate quite yet. Will you accept my gift, Lord Sybaal?”
Small smiles are on everyone else's faces while the old man's suddenly clear and piercing gaze pins me to the spot. My blood runs cold as I get a premonition of something big about to happen. Everything slows down for a moment. It must have given me brain freeze or something, because a piercing pain assaults my temple before reducing to a dull throb.
Dream Stream Reality: Publisher's Pack Books 1-2: (A LitRPG Adventure) Page 49