by G. R. Cooper
He looked to his left, then his right; scanning the walkway along the top of the wall. He could see no guards approaching from either direction, not that it would have been a problem if he had. He could simply activate his Stealth skill - augmented by his pair of rare items, Clandestine Slippers and Gauntlets, to level fourteen - and disappear from sight instantly.
As it was, he slipped as silently as he could between two stone merlons and lowered himself over the edge. Once his body was fully stretched, he let go and dropped to the ground.
And onto a boulder.
His body curled into a fetal position as he lost balance and his ass continued past where his feet were planted on the top of the rock. One of his knees connected solidly with his jaw, and the clack of his jaw being slammed shut sounded out into the darkness.
“You have been slightly stunned!”
He rolled over and pushed himself back up onto his feet, then stood and patted the dirt off of his leather pants. He laughed at himself while he straightened the Cowl of the Wolf on his head and the long, fur cape that he’d had added onto it.
Very graceful, dickhead!
The effects of the stun left him a little unsteady, and he walked slowly west away from the city until it wore off. Once he felt normal, he began to jog, and keeping the Northwest Road to his left made his way to the first copse of trees, a couple of kilometers in the distance.
Wulfgar reached the trees. He smiled. His physical ability in this world still marveled him. He had just run several kilometers and wasn’t winded. He wasn’t sweating. He hadn’t tired or slowed.
He moved into the trees just to the right of the road and froze, listening. After a moment, the low rustle of the trees in the slight breeze allowed the soft sound of movement coming from deeper into the woods. He slid into the darkness, making his way under and around the branches that waved between him and the soft sounds. He heard a light clink. Metal on metal. Then a low snort and a stamp. A blackness loomed in the darkness, a shadow within the dark of the night. Wulfgar put out his hand and felt the withers of his mount.
Smiling, he turned, putting the horse to his back. He began methodically scanning through the darkness. He held his breath, willing himself into silence.
Even though he was expecting it, he was shocked when Rydra’s face appeared in the darkness in front of him. Wulfgar laughed softly as his friend came out of Stealth. The little thief’s teeth shone into the purpled darkness of the wood.
“Rydra,” nodded Wulfgar, smiling as broadly as his friend.
“I’ve been right behind you for the last several minutes,” chuckled Rydra.
“I know,” lied Wulfgar, snorting.
Rydra’s grin grew even wider.
“Bullshit. I lied. I was waiting right here by the horse. You never heard a thing!”
Wulfgar laughed, long and loud. The horse snorted and stamped.
“You got me,” he agreed, “I never heard a thing.” He bowed low, dramatically. “I acknowledge your mastery of stealth and deception, sensei!”
“Rare wisdom in one so young,” said Rydra in mock severity. He patted the horse’s neck.
“Thank you.” Wulfgar nodded, then cocked his head back toward the horse. “And thank you. Did you have any trouble getting out of town?”
Rydra shook his head.
“Not at all.”
After word had begun to spread of Wulfgar’s Rebellion, as it was becoming known, he had started getting some odd looks as he went on his errands about Edonis through the day; he was surprised at how fast the rumor spread - it had only been a couple of days since he had taken control of Marchstone and while he had been unaware that the news had leaked, during the day it became more obvious that people were hearing about it. The pair of friends had decided that discretion dictated that Wulfgar was probably better served leaving town as quietly as possible - avoiding any interaction with the town authorities; especially the gate guards, given his history of animosity with them.
Rydra had offered to bring Wulfgar’s horse and pack to this little wood while Wulfgar made his way quietly over the wall. Wulfgar had readily accepted. They had parted ways at lunchtime; Wulfgar running his errands while Rydra moved through the inns of the city collect what intelligence he could on the current state of affairs.
“News?”
“Plenty. First, King Clive has found his general. The leader of the forces he’ll be sending against you.”
“Interesting.”
Rydra smiled, “You have no idea, my friend. No idea.”
Wulfgar raised one eyebrow.
“Well? Go ahead. Don’t leave me hanging.”
Rydra laughed, enjoying toying with his friend.
“You know him.”
Wulfgar snorted, “It’s you, isn’t it? Field Marshall Rydra.”
“Good guess! No.”
Wulfgar looked into his friends eyes, glinting in the darkness. A coldness swept over him. He realized who Rydra was talking about.
“No. Really? Tim?”
Rydra’s face grew serious. He nodded, somber.
“I’m afraid so.”
“You’re kidding. Please.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“I have no idea. I just happened to run into him in an inn. He was busy recruiting.”
“I hope you had the decency to turn him down.”
Rydra looked back at Wulfgar, unmoving.
“No. You’re kidding, right? He recruited you?” His jaw fell open.
Rydra shrugged, “Kind of. I’m helping him to spread the word.”
“You’re recruiting for Tim? Against me?”
Rydra winked, “As far as he knows, yes.”
Wulfgar nodded, suddenly understanding. “I get it. You agreed to work with him, but you’re really working with me. On the inside, as it were. A double agent?”
Rydra winked again. “More or less. I will be spreading the word, for both of you.” He shrugged, “My take is that people will naturally side one way or the other based on the facts of the situation. I’ve been painting your side in a bright light, but the law-and-order types seem to so far outnumber the rebellious types about two to one. So far.”
“What I will do,” Rydra continued, “is to as subtlety as possible try to steer the folks who naturally support the king into thinking that just avoiding the entire situation is in their best interest. That getting swept up in a war just as resurrection is being turned off isn’t the wisest course of action. On the other hand, the more adventurous rebel-type will hear how risking a short six-month death in return for getting in on ownership of a brand new kingdom is kind of a no-brainer.”
Wulfgar nodded. They had decided that offering players a plot of land, permanently in their name, was likely to draw many of them onto his side. They just had to make sure to do their best that King Clive didn’t hear of it; he had far more land to offer. He could give away parcels as large as the entire village of Marchstone to each and every player who fought for him and still have a surfeit of open plains left in his kingdom. But Wulfgar could offer something more than just land. True ownership. The ability to influence the direction of Marchstone. To help decide how the valley would progress and to profit from its success.
“There’s another thing,” said Rydra, his mien serious. “Tim has been given,” he continued after Wulfgar’s questioning expression, “the ability to resurrect as often as he needs. Alone of all of us, he will not be inconvenienced by the lack of resurrection for the next six months.”
Wulfgar nodded. He looked down, thinking. What kind of an advantage is that? Tim can probably take more personal risks - leading a battle from the front - but really, what difference can it make for him. Wulfgar shook his head, trying to work through the problem. It would probably amount to nothing, but he resolved to factor that into his plans.
Rydra took Wulfgar’s hand, “I’ll send word as I can, but I can tell you now that you probably have onl
y a week before Tim makes his first foray. He plans to recruit a core corps and conduct a reconnaissance raid into Marchstone, and before rez is turned off. A suicide run, to get the layout of the land.”
Wulfgar nodded in thought.
“Thanks. You can send word through the Rat King, he’s an ally now,” he mumbled, lost in planning. “We’ll have to arrange a reception for Tim. Make sure he doesn’t get the drop on us. My Tim should be a big help in that.”
Rydra frowned apologetically, “I’m afraid I let slip that bit of information. I’m sorry, I mentioned him without thinking,” Rydra lied. He had realized that he had to mention his friend’s familiar. If he hadn’t, he risked suspicion once that notable piece of news became common knowledge.
Wulfgar frowned, patting the horse’s neck, “Can’t be helped now, maybe we can figure out a way to use it.” He frowned more deeply, unable to think of a way. He shrugged it off - water under the troll bridge.
He shook off the worry and returned to the present. Wulfgar took Rydra into his arms, giving him a bear hug.
“Thank you, again. I can’t possible repay everything you’ve done for me, for all of the help you’ve given us all in this.”
Rydra hugged his friend back, “Just save me that little hill across the stream from the village. It’ll make me a nice retirement spot for a villa.” He stood back and looked Wulfgar in the eye, “You know, once you get all of this business with King Clive wrapped up!”
“Will do!” laughed Wulfgar as he mounted his horse.
Wulfgar prodded his mount into a gallop as he left the stand of trees and Edonis behind. He looked westward toward the darkened mountains. Toward Marchstone and the fight ahead. He had a lot of planning to do. He began to work out the week ahead, to prepare for the coming war. He frowned, leaning forward into the horse’s neck as he allowed the mount to take its lead and pound down the western road.
He needed to shore up his flanks. The two kingdoms on the western side of his valley were mostly unknowns. The dwarves were at least working with him, so far, but he had no idea what their reaction would be once open war was declared between himself and Clive. Of the elves he had no clue. He hoped Conner would be waiting for him in Marchstone with good news of the ranger’s expedition into the sylvan woodland.
Wulfgar had a lot of preparation to accomplish in the next week.
He smiled.
The preparation had already begun; he thought back to the day that had just ended and reflected, as he rode, on everything he had accomplished since morning. It had been a busy day.
Wulfgar had curled up in front of the fire in Rydra’s room. The back of the fireplace flickered as he stared into it. He was going through the conversation with Clive when Rydra’s voice brought him back to the present.
“What is it that you want?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well,” continued Rydra, “you’re in a new world, right? You’ve been here for a few weeks, but you’ve come a long way. The vast majority of us who’ve been resurrected here just seem to be happy to continue our existence. You seem,” he paused in thought, “driven. Driven to attain more.”
Wulfgar frowned.
“I mean,” smiled Rydra, putting his hands on Wulfgar’s shoulders, “you’re establishing yourself as the leader of a town. You’re all but declaring war on a kingdom that looks like it should be able to easily wipe you off the map.”
Rydra lowered his head and looked up at Wulfgar, smiling.
“I repeat. What is it that you want?”
“I don’t know.” Wulfgar shrugged and leaned back against the wall. They were in Rydra’s apartment. They had regrouped there after their foray into King Clive’s castle. After being escorted out of the front gate, Wulfgar had made his way back to the flat, lost in thought.
He’d been a bit overwhelmed by the confrontation with his one-time helper AI. Wulfgar didn’t know what to think. As Duncan Sheriden, he’d been drawn into playing the Omegaverse; first by his friends, then by the breadcrumbs of rewards left by Clive and his associates - whoever they were.
Wulfgar realized that it was a continuation of his entire life.
As an orphan, he’d been shuffled through a series of foster homes and care facilities. He’d never had any control whatsoever over when and where he went.
Even as an adult, his series of mid-level management jobs left him fulfilling the requirements of his superiors.
His entire life had been a series of decisions he had little to no control in making.
“I want,” he began, searching for words, “control over my own destiny. I’m tired of being used for other people’s ends.” He looked up at Rydra, who smiled back at him. “My whole life, I’ve felt like a puppet on someone else’s strings. I’m tired of it.”
“Then you have a golden opportunity, my friend. You are carving your own realm out of this world. What are you going to do with it?”
“Whatever I want.”
“A good answer for yourself, but you are also in the position of needing, I assume, to attract others to your realm, correct?”
Wulfgar nodded.
“Then you’ll need an answer that will make people want to help you. You are,” Rydra scratched his head, “offering ownership, at least partially, to your land. A plot to call their own. How will that interact within your need to be in control of your own destiny.”
Wulfgar shook his head, “I’m not sure.”
“First lesson. Never say that. Changing a plan or direction at a later date is far preferable to not knowing. Always have a plan. Always have an answer. Nobody will follow, for long, someone who has no idea what they’re doing.”
Wulfgar nodded at the truth of it.
“So, offer them ownership, but make them understand that it’s at your pleasure. I’m not sure I’d use the word fealty, but the concept remains. Their ownership is subordinate to yours. You don’t have to spell it out, but make it understood.”
“How?”
Rydra bowed theatrically, “Well, your highness, a kingdom needs a king.”
“King Wulfgar?”
“Just so.”
Wulfgar shook his head, “I kind of hate the sound of it.”
“Irrelevant. Besides, people are already calling you King Wulfgar. The simple use of the title establishes the hierarchy. Give out titles to your friends. There’s a reason that the kings of old did that. It creates incentive. It creates, or at least fosters, loyalty. You have to have that.”
“Plots of land isn’t enough?”
“To attract, not to keep. If you can bestow, it needs to be understood that you can take it away. That helps to ensure their loyalty, and that loyalty is your reward for what you’ve given them. Never forget that.”
“Sounds medieval.”
“It’s older than that. You don’t have to like it, you just have to remember not to abuse it. The abuse of that relationship leads to tyranny.”
“I’m not a tyrant.”
“Few tyrants think they are,” chuckled Rydra, “but for what it’s worth, I don’t think you have the makings of a tyrant either.”
“Enough lessons,” said Rydra, standing, “let’s go through Clive’s loot!”
Wulfgar’s jaw dropped as Rydra unrolled his cloak over the large bed which dominated his small flat. He looked up at the little thief and smiled.
“Not. A. Bad. Haul.”
Rydra laughed, “Not at all, if I do say so myself.” He reached to a chest the size of a bread box and knocked on it, “Gold pieces. A couple hundred at least.”
Given that Wulfgar’s fortune was currently just a few coins, this was a solid and substantial improvement.
“What’s my cut?”
“In this case,” Rydra smiled, “one hundred percent. Consider my cut from this haul to be an investment in the cause.”
Wulfgar laughed, “Your loyalty will be well remembered, Duke Rydra.”
Rydra laughed loudly, “Now you’re getting the hang
of it, your majesty.” He bowed low.
Rydra reached onto the loot pile and lifted a small, gold ring. He held it up and looked through it to Wulfgar. It shone brightly, the otherwise un-ornamented gold glittered in the flickering light from the fireplace.
“Ring of Meditation. Plus ten.”
He flipped the ring to Wulfgar, who caught it out of the air. Wulfgar held the ring between his thumb and forefinger and examined it.
Ring of Meditation. +10. Adds ten levels to wearer’s Meditation skill level. This applies not only to meditation rate, but to the cool-down as well. Rare.
Wulfgar whistled, putting the ring on his finger. He felt a little buzz as the ring increased his Meditation level.
You have gained ten levels in Meditation!
He thought for a moment. Soulcatcher. Catcher’s magical circle would benefit from this a great deal, since many of her spells could take advantage of a pre-meditation effect. She was currently building up a Plane Travel spell in order to make an expedition to capture a familiar - a hell spawn Imp. The ring was ideal for her. He smiled; a king needed to bestow presents upon his subjects.
Wulfgar looked back to Rydra and took from his friend’s outstretched hand a long, polished recurve bow. He hefted its balanced weight in his hands and examined it.
Flame Bow. Adds equivalent of Fire Shot spell to each arrow shot. The level of Fire Shot is half the archer’s Archery level. The fire can only ignite and damage flammable objects (this is separate from damage inflicted by arrow). Flame damage depends on flammability of targeted object. Damage continues until flame is extinguished. Epic.
“Holy shit,” murmured Wulfgar, looking up at Rydra, “this thing is, well, epic!”
“It will come in handy if you decide to become an archer.”
Wulfgar shook his head, “I think our Ranger, Connor, will get a lot better use of this.”
Rydra nodded his head and smiled. He reached to Wulfgar and handed him a large, ornate double-axe, “And I assume our Norse friend will get this.”
Wulfgar took the axe.
Axe of Lightning. Adds equivalent of Lightning Bolt to each hit. The level of Lightning Bolt is half the warrior’s Axe level. Lightning damage only applicable to objects susceptible to electrical damage (this is separate from damage inflicted by axe). Lightning damage depends on targeted object susceptibility. Epic.