We decided to wrap up the quest and not put it off. We figured Axiom was most likely tooling around inside and outside the new dungeon, so we could swing through town without too much trouble.
Infect brought us to Tristad, and I thought that, at this rate, it would be a while before I would be able to level my own Depths Teleportation skill. I voiced that fear and Tissa made a suggestion:
“Alex, after we finish the quest, we can jump together. Are you level two? That means you can’t choose where to go yet. But I can get you back.”
And that was just what we did. But first we needed to pay a visit to young Alfred Stafford. The home where he lived was in a fancy part of town, but looked poorly maintained: the fence was leaning, the paint was chipped and the garden was full of weeds.
We had to knock for a long time. They were already asleep based on the darkness in the windows and silence inside. Finally, we heard an old man shuffling up to the door. Someone spent a long time fussing with the lock and, when he opened the door, we saw a sleepy yawning boy of twenty years.
“Ali, I knocked out two shifts in a row! Don’t even ask...” He raised his eyes, realized he was mistaken and coughed, giving his voice some seriousness. “I’m sorry, I mistook you for a fellow watchman. Good evening, Tristad visitors! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Alfred Stafford?” I asked politely, although I knew it was him. He confirmed and I continued: “Beg your pardon for the late visit, but this is cannot bear delay.”
“If that’s the case, come inside,” Alfred shook his head indistinctly.
The inside was an even bigger mess than the outside. Noticing where we looked, as if apologizing, he explained:
“After father died, mother went as well. I watched her fall to pieces. I took her to the capital and spent all my money but nothing helped. Their healers just shrugged their shoulders and said they couldn’t do anything about a broken heart. Soon she was gone too and I was left all alone. I work in the city guard on long-distance patrols. I’m afraid I rarely have time for domestic concerns...”
I noticed none of the guys were hurrying the NPC, all listening carefully and even... sympathizing? I came under the impression that the Dementors were taking the boy’s story for the genuine article. Although... Nether! It was genuine! At the very least, considering the age of the game world and freshness of these events, this AI really had been born here, grew up with his parents and lost them both and was now trying to somehow get on with his life despite his loneliness and sorrow.
“Alfred...” Tissa began. We agreed she would complete the quest. “We sincerely sympathize with your loss! But we have good news for you! In the Gloomwood, we encountered the spirit of your father William. His spirit couldn’t find peace until he could send you an important message...”
A few minutes later, we helped the kid dig up a small chest. All of old Stafford’s savings were accounted for. The kid sat at the hole for a long time, clutching the chest with his head sagging. A tear ran down his cheek and all that time we were tactically standing at his side, not wanting to mention the reward.
“I believe this is yours by right,” he said, extending us the compensation his father had promised.
Ghost of William Stafford’s mission complete.
You released his soul and told Alfred where the family savings were hidden.
Experience points received: 100.
Experience points at present level (14): 1060/12800.
Your reputation with Albert Stafford has been increased by 50 points;
Current reputation: ambivalence.
Your reputation with the city of Tristad has been increased by 5.
Current reputation: ambivalence.
Right after that, Alfred’s mood changed. He bounced back mentally and was about run off to the house of his beloved to ask her father for her hand. He couldn’t marry her before because he had no means to provide for a family.
“He definitely won’t say no now!” the boy crowed.
We just barely managed to convince him to put it off until morning.
With a fond farewell, we went outside. It was after midnight and we had decided to end it at that. I had just one thing left to do – teleport my butt somewhere to level the skill. The guys all wanted to join:
“Who cares where it throws you and Tissa,” Crawler said. “Let’s all jump together.”
And when I activated Depths Teleportation, it sent us to the Olton Quarries and, from there, Tissa brought the whole group back to Tristad. To tell the truth, my skill level didn’t go up, but the progress bar showed that, if I used it one more time, it would ding.
“I just noticed we kinda got lucky,” Infect suddenly declared when we said goodbye. “The fact the ring is class-restricted saved Scyth from having to make a tough decision. If he’d chosen himself as clan leader no one would have questioned it but still, there would have been some resentment...”
“You really are a snake, Malik!” Bomber cracked Infect on the shoulder. “And now, do you resent that I got the ring?”
“Yes, I’m jealous, I won’t deny it!” the thief declared proudly and chuckled. “No bullshit, you’re a lucky son of a bitch!”
“What if we got a ring that was for some class none of us had, like shaman? Let’s be happy for Bomb, because otherwise... You have to agree it would be less cool...” Tissa added. “I mean, right?”
“Well, we’d have sold the damn thing!” I concluded the discussion.
On that philosophical note, the second day of our farming venture came to an end. No matter how I looked at it, this was a successful grind of experience and gear. Just the First Kill of Mok’Rhyssa was enough to justify the whole day’s worth of effort!
* * *
The next day, our clan storage, which for now was just Bomber’s bags, got a deposit of a bit over nine hundred gold while my personal wallet was enriched by fifty-two. Overweight had successfully sold almost everything we sent. The letter came with a sheet of calculations for each item: average auction price, actual sale price and commissions. Crawler meticulously checked the numbers and, seemingly, was left satisfied. Honestly, I couldn’t make head or tail of it, just nodded. Knowing him, I was sure that if he had complaints he would make them known.
Just out of interest and taking advantage of the fact we were in Tristad, Ed took a look at the scalable legendaries market to get a handle on how much Svetovid’s Valor might be worth. It wasn’t all that impressive to be honest. The best scalable legendaries gave up to thirty percent to attributes. There were supposedly even better ones, but they weren’t for sale at auction. As for our ring, if not for its impressive property to absorb finishing blows, its value would have been even lower.
After winning the Bubbling Flagon tournament, I was up to over seven thousand gold, but I really had no idea what to do with the money. Maybe I’d need it to buy up equipment before the Arena.
Our business in town took around an hour. The guys dropped by their class teachers to get new abilities or raise their current ones, and I for the first time realized another way my class was gimped. Where was my trainer? Where could I get new abilities?
While I waited for the guys, I decided I wanted an explanation, so I even wrote a letter to support, hoping it would be intercepted by that very same highly placed Snowstorm employee. The answer was very curt. Honestly, to read it, I had to leave Dis and check the mail on my communicator. The letter came from a single-use mailbox and was short and to the point:
Alex!
The game mechanics have not provided the herald class with a trainer. The idea is for you to get skills from your patron deity.
Jackson Briggs (or Sonya Blade, your choice).
Seemingly this was the same person as the Grant and Cooper who wrote previously. That answer didn’t upset me. Better two super-abilities than twenty normal ones.
I went back into the game world and ran to the center of town. At the temple of Nergal, I saw Aphrodite, aka Eve. I waved a hand at he
r in greeting. But she turned around and only then I noticed she was not alone. Crag was walking next to her. Turning around, he waved and gave me a broad smile, then embraced Eve at the waist and led her into the temple.
Eve had hit level seven, and the ganker warrior was up to fifteen. The last time I saw him in the cave of Wot’al, he was just thirteen. And it had been... only four days! Well, well. What progress...
I didn’t see anyone from Axiom. Their table in the Bubbling Flagon was also empty. Wandering the tavern, I eavesdropped on what people were talking about. For the most part, it was the new instance. I overheard that the dungeon hadn’t been vacant even once since it opened.
Contrary to expectation, the first into the ins after us were not Big Po’s guys but... Ambush! They ran back to the place they died before anyone else, and the dungeon was already empty. Without any preparation, they went inside and, of course, got annihilated. They didn’t even get to the first boss: they were wiped by the very first pack. But nevertheless, they did grab some rare alchemy ingredients, earning back what they lost in the battle with us.
Right after that, the ins was occupied by Axiom and they hadn’t let anyone else in since. Wesley Cho split all his highs up into shifts to provide round-the-clock surveillance at the portal. Minor groups went in by turn, reporting on their findings to HQ, which had been temporarily moved to the gully. The analysts were processing incoming information in real time, trying to find bosses with similar abilities in the database.
They only reached the boss by group three, but they didn’t even take his health down halfway. By morning, the fifth group had killed the first boss, but hadn’t reached the second. The packs of mobs had become even larger and meaner.
They didn’t come to school. By midday, Po had a complete report on tactics for the first boss and a rough sketch on the second. Around one hour ago, he and the main team went inside.
If they failed, we would have a direct path to the First Kill.
* * *
Three zones, the Gloomwood, the Mire and Tristad Environs, stretched for dozens of miles, and encompassed guard posts, farms and mines. At their triple point was a small promontory that overlooked the Tremitelle as it emptied into a lake, and there was a spotted tent as tall as two people. Next to it, there were a few smaller plain tents crammed in together, and some wild game roasting over a fire and wafting amazing smells. I swallowed my spit unwittingly.
“We made it,” Tissa exhaled. “There it is, the Hunters’ Camp. Their leader is named Garrison Alt. He’s the only one you can get quests from.”
On our way from the Gloomwood, where Bomber ported us, the guys told me about a faction called Dangerous Game Hunters. A group of tough men and women of various races, their blood bubbled with an explosive cocktail of love for nature, thirst for adventure and a desire to help society. The stick up their ass was an added bonus. They were something like the defenders of all living things, except for dangerous predators. And the hunters considered any species that directly threatened intelligent life to be just that. For example, they had no problem with tigers in general, but if they ever heard about a man-eating tiger that killed just for fun, they would hunt it down.
The local franchise of the faction had made their home here for a long time. The lifeforms in this forest and swamp presented a great risk and it was no coincidence that no intelligent creatures lived in either of these locations. Even stupid kobolds and gnolls kept their distance. So Garrison Alt and his brothers and sisters in arms had plenty of concerns.
“How do they earn money?” I asked.
“The city pays them,” Crawler answered. “If not for them, the city guard patrols couldn’t do their job. What’s more, they have another source of income – processing and selling what they harvest. Dangerous predators mean expensive loot. Rare pelts, guts, fangs...”
Not wasting time, we headed straight for the main tent. Garrison Alt was having a talk with some player, but when he saw us he patted the kid on the shoulder and walked over to greet us. He was an eminent stately man, strong and wearing heavy boots, pants of thick fabric and a leather jacket. But the first thing to attract my attention was his hair. It was pure white, the color of snow on mountaintops. He had it up in a ponytail and it came down below his shoulders. On his back there were two long narrow swords crossed over one another and, in his hands, he was holding a double-barreled gnomish rifle.
“How do you like my little friend here?” he asked, showing us his weapon lovingly. “It can take down a target at five hundred steps! It knocks cave bears off their feet! And you see this?” Alt pointed at a metal tube with lenses inside that was attached above the barrels. “A diamond sight!”
We expressed admiration. Tissa even asked to hold the gun, which Garrison didn’t refuse. “Epic! Personal!” she whispered delightedly. “Linked to its owner. That’s the stuff!”
“My name is Garrison, but you can call me Garr. Garr Alt,” he introduced himself, and I responded in kind. “I already know your friends. They show great potential!”
“We did the first eight quests in the chain,” Crawler explained to me quietly. “Our reputation with the Hunters’ Camp went all the way up to friendship.”
“What brings you to these wastelands?” Garr asked, squeezing my hand hard.
“A desire to aid the hunters in their glorious cause,” I called back. “I hope I can be of service.”
“A very praiseworthy desire, young man!” the hunter lit up. “At the moment we need some help cutting down the legions of Marshreed Catgators. Don’t be misled by the word cat, either. They’re detestable creature. We all love kitties around here. In Darant, I even have a pet panther I took from the Ursay Jungles as a kitten. But catgators are something completely different. If their bloodline ever harbored any feline elements, they ran dry ages ago. They’re more like scaly reptiles covered in a disgusting slime than anything else.”
I couldn’t resist a question:
“Then where’d the name come from?”
“They meow,” Garr Alt admitted with dismay. And after a bit of silence, he added: “And purr. And do you know when?”
I shook my head.
“While chewing through their victims’ guts! Bring me the tails of ten catgators, then we can find something more to talk about.”
Leader of the Hunters’ camp Garr Alt would like you to complete a test mission: kill ten Marshreed Catgators and collect their tails as proof.
Reward:
— 30 experience points;
— 50 silver coins;
— your reputation with Dangerous Game Hunters will be increased by 10 points;
— your reputation with the city of Tristad will be increased by 1 point.
“I’ll bring you the tails,” I said, accepting the quest.
“Wonderful,” a smile spread on his face, then he turned his attention to the guys. “What about you, friends? Have you taken care of the Swamp Needler nest?”
“Not yet, Garr,” Crawler called back. “We want to help our friend with your test missions first so we can all do it together.”
“Rational,” he concurred. “Any questions?”
“Nope,” I answered.
“Then I wouldn’t dare delay you any further!” he exclaimed, nodding and leaving us back to his tent.
On the mini-map, I saw a marker showing the range of the catgators.
“Are you sure we need to do this chain?” I turned to the guys. “How long is it gonna take? Just the moving around will waste so much time...”
“Yes!” they answered almost in concert.
They exchanged glances waiting for Infect to nod, meaning there was no one around, and Crawler whispered hotly:
“No one has ever finished this chain before, Scyth! In the whole history of the sandbox, nobody!”
“What’s the catch?”
“The needlers. They inject their larvae under your skin, which dig into the flesh pretty much like a screw.”
Tissa was overc
ome by laughter and it was catching. I felt a shiver run over my skin.
“Well and? What’s so funny? Guys, don’t keep me in the dark here. I’ve been sprayed with acid, burnt, torn to pieces, I even got my head chopped off... What could the needlers possibly have that makes them so impossible?”
“We aren’t gonna keep you in the dark, Scyth,” Bomber boomed. “The needlers’ larva have a peculiar nature. They’re physical but at the same time somehow... immaterial. Like astral creatures, they don’t so much take down your lifeforce as your soul. And they stick you with a debuff that doesn’t go away even after you die. It lasts a week, and if it isn’t refreshed in that time which, as a rule it will be if you encounter more needlers, the debuff expires.”
“But?”
“The debuff is accompanied by a progress bar which shows your larva count,” Crawler started explaining patiently. “One larva gives one percent to the bar. And that’s how much it brings down your maximum health. When the bar hits one hundred percent, a needler bursts out of your ribcage. Then you die and respawn without the debuff.”
Apostle of the Sleeping Gods Page 33