Shadows of the Great Forest (Realm of Arkon, Book 4)

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Shadows of the Great Forest (Realm of Arkon, Book 4) Page 17

by G. Akella


  "For a comic wannabe, your timing really sucks!" Masyanya said with a reproachful shake of the head and rolling of the eyes. Yet, it was clear she was just going through the motions.

  Every one of the guys that had walked over felt it necessary to pat Max on the shoulder to congratulate him.

  "Listen, man, that was... something," Donut said at last. "If it weren't for your transformation..."

  "Could someone actually fill me in on what happened?" Max's voice was on the verge of shouting. "All I remember is blacking out, and then waking up here."

  "That's normal. I don't usually remember anything either after I binge..." Bonbon began his signature buffoonery, but piped down at once under the others' ferocious stares.

  "Thank you, Tasha," Max nodded his gratitude to the rogue after the Donut had finished recounting the events that took place on the meadow.

  "You're welcome, brother," she smiled. "I was told that the Martens sent a message with you to Irwine?"

  "I don't know who Irwine is, but if that's the name of the great prince of our House, then yes."

  "Max, throw her an invite first? I can't stand to see her walking around all red," Luffy interjected.

  It was obvious that the mage still hadn't quite recovered from the joy that had fallen into his lap.

  Max satisfied his request, nodding when the color of Tasha's name turned blue. Then he looked at the people gathered around him, took a sip from the flask offered by Alex, and gestured in the swamp's direction.

  "Let's wait until the Blades recover to hand in the quest on the island. After that, we'll head back to Ellorian to rest and stock up on supplies. That shouldn't take more than a day. From there, it's off to the Wild Wood. Where's Vagabond, by the way? And what's the word on the loot?"

  "I didn't think you'd remember," Donut snickered. "Vagabond is back on the meadow with his people. He came, saw that you were sleeping, and headed back. He's got a lot on his plate now, what with one hundred forty three of his clanmates dead. As for the loot," the rogue handed Max a small ring shimmering a soft violet color. "This is for you. And don't let anybody say you didn't earn it."

  Enchanted Seal of Primal Howl.

  Accessory; ring. Bind on equip.

  Durability: 3689/4000.

  Epic scalable. An item from the Primal Howl set.

  No minimum level.

  +156 to strength.

  +156 to constitution.

  +7.8% to armor class.

  +3.12% to critical hit chance with a physical attack.

  Weight: .04 lbs.

  Before the fight Max had arranged it with Vagabond that Donut would be doing the selecting on behalf of Max's party given the warrior's sincere doubts regarding his own ability to properly appraise potential drops. Or, in layman's terms, to tell trash from treasure.

  "That's quite a ring," Rexar chuckled. "You'll wear it for the next thousand years. It was Donut's first selection, just so you know. Of course, it's no wedding band," the ranger grinned at Alyona, "but I don't suppose we'll be waiting long on that front."

  "Thanks, guys," Max said earnestly. "What else did he drop?"

  "Out of the truly awesome stuff, in addition to your ring we got a pair of scalable boots for a resto druid, a set item. There, Alyona's wearing them now."

  "Right, like any man would ever notice his girlfriend's new boots. Come on, this game is not that much of a fairytale," Masyanya scoffed.

  "If you spent less time customizing certain tantalizing features of the female anatomy during character creation, I assure you we'd be noticing every new hairpin and pair of socks," Donut came to Max's defense as Alyona was too busy blushing to offer a retort. "As it is, our eyes can't help but wander toward those very features. Anyway," the assassin turned back to Max, "we also got eighty one hundred gold, a helm for Rexar, a cloak for Ellanca, a charm for Helliona, a belt for Masyanya, and another ring for Luffy. Those are all epics for us to grow into. Another dozen or so rare items, several dozen potions and vials, and a ton of reagents. I dumped it all with our treasurer, so you can check with her later."

  "Dumped?" Masyanya gave him a light smack upside the head. "Watch it, buddy, or I'll have you lugging all this goodness yourself."

  "You know I say it with love," Donut grinned. "By the way, we need to buy a purse at the auction house tomorrow. Stealing from me is no easy talk, but you can never be too careful."

  "You mean the one that costs nearly one hundred gold?" Masyanya inquired.

  "Yes, and it's worth every copper. Impossible to steal and impossible to loot off your corpse in the event of death," the assassin explained. "Too bad it's got a capacity limit of ten grand, though that just about covers our savings."

  "Isn't it easier to keep it in the clan treasury?"

  "Perhaps. But how certain are you that we're going to find even a single inn in the Wild Wood?"

  "Don't let the name fool you—we're not some savages," Tasha frowned, having kept silent up until now. "Vesperylle, the capital of our High House, is hardly inferior to your Ellorian. Just our eastern border with Darkaan stretches for nearly twelve days of travel."

  "We don't care about any of that, Tasha," Max said placatingly. "It's just that... remember when Luffy told you we weren't always elves? The same applies to all of our friends."

  "I remember, brother. However, if you consider the Great Forest your home, you're either a light elf, a dark elf, or a Nightcrawler. There is no fourth option."

  "May I join your High House?" Helliona asked, surprising everyone.

  "You're friends of Max, and if he vouches for you, that would be enough to join our clan," the dark-haired rogue nodded. "Speaking of which, brother, your woman must join us. It's unbecoming for our kind to choose either a light or dark elf for a mate, but don't you worry—we'll turn her into a proper cat yet! Of course, she won't be able to heal in her true form, just as my future husband won't be able to cast spells. But then, none of us are obligated to always remain in animal form."

  A silence ensued, which was eventually broken by Donut.

  "Are you saying we can all join your clan?"

  "Why ask a question to which I already gave an answer?"

  "I apologize, it's all just a little sudden." The assassin creased his brow, as if remembering something. He shifted his gaze to Max and Luffy, and then back to Tasha.

  "Your and Luffy's blood mixed as well, right? Then why is it only Max has shifted?"

  "If I were to mix my blood with each and every one of you, nothing would come of it," she smiled, putting her hand on her future spouse's shoulder. "To become one of us you must undergo a special ritual conducted by the head of our clan. In Max's case, the Sunlit Forest didn't have everything necessary to complete the initiation, so he'd only undergone a part of it and will still need to complete the rest. Father didn't expect the transformation to happen so quickly—with an unfinished ceremony, it typically takes a year to a year and a half. In fact, I was surprised that he'd sent me here so soon, as if sensing what was to come."

  "What determines the speed of transformation?" Donut was curious about everything. You could see how the prospect of becoming a shapeshifter intrigued and fascinated him.

  "Your willpower, elf," Tasha said solemnly, glancing at Max. "The stronger a sentient's willpower, the faster the pace of transformation."

  "I see," Donut turned to look at Alex. "What do you think about all this?"

  "I think that you're acting like a total noob," the ranger scoffed. "You didn't even bother asking Max what happened to him when he shifted. Did his stats change? What about his action bar?"

  "But he doesn't remember squat... Oh!" Donut smacked himself on the forehead. "I'm such a doofus! Max, open up your log, mate!"

  "There's nothing in the log—it refreshed while I was out. I do remember something, though. Not too much, but..."

  "Well, out with it, then!"

  "Basically, I remember getting a boost of agility as I turned—about fifty percent of my base stat. I w
ould guess it's the most important stat for shifters. There was something about new abilities as well, and my armor class increased by maybe ten percent."

  "Dang!" Donut exclaimed. "And your strength is about a thousand now, right? With your gear on?"

  "Twelve hundred," Max nodded.

  "Whatever," the assassin waved dismissively. "Nearly six hundred agility is at least three percent to crit!"

  "Indeed," Alex grunted. "That's a rather nice boost to damage output for us. Though I doubt I'd be able to fire my bow in cat form."

  "I expect you'll use form-specific abilities," Donut objected. "Does it really matter if you use a bow or your teeth and claws..."

  "Enough," Max interrupted their argument. "Let's wait till I shift again, and afterward I'll give you a more thorough report to base your decision on. Until then, there's no use speculating."

  "Does anyone else find it strange that the log disappeared?" Luffy gave the warrior a bemused look, scratching the back of his head.

  "Not really," Max said with a sigh. "The log disappeared because I removed it. By accident."

  "Well done, bro," the American chortled. "Way to keep the mystery alive. But anyway, even what we do know—the ten percent boost to armor and fifty percent to agility—is good stuff."

  "It's too bad cat form is useless for healers and mages, since you can't cast while shifted," Max looked guiltily at Alyona.

  "Not so fast," the ranger objected. "If my arena team had a mage or priest with cat form, I assure you we'd make it into the top ten stupid fast. The form removes all negative effects, that's one. Every caster has buffs or auras that are retained after shifting, that's two. And with a ten percent boost to armor and the ability to leap away from danger, both mages and priests gain valuable survival tools. I just wish I knew the active abilities activated by the form," he shot Max a look of rebuke.

  "What are they talking about? I didn't get half of that," Tasha asked, pulling on the mage's sleeve.

  "I'll explain everything later tonight, babe," Luffy replied, taking his betrothed by the arm. "You see, the world we come from... It had no shifters, no magic..."

  "Truth be told, I expected us to be doing far more pleasant things later tonight," she smiled playfully. "But seeing as you're not going anywhere, I think I'll rather enjoy hearing about your world."

  "Just for the record, I got even less than she did, but don't pester me with explanations later tonight. Or any night." Bonbon declared, then turned toward the forest. "I'm so hungry I can eat that entire goddamned dinosaur we put down an hour ago. And it actually smells of food from that direction. The Blades don't mess around when it comes to hot meals, so I propose we join them..."

  "In what world is Sweeping Strikes better than Whirlwind?!" Max shot a dubious look at Alex, walking alongside him. "Not only do you look badass spinning in place, you're immune to all control effects for five seconds while dealing a ton of damage to everyone within a two and a half yard radius every second. And it slows your targets to boot!"

  The ranger slid a pipe—purchased earlier in Ellorian—in his mouth, lit up and took a deep drag. After exhaling the smoke, he gave a chuckle.

  "Let's start thinking logically, shall we? What is the advantage of Sweeping Strikes?"

  "Transferring fifty percent of damage sustained by the main target to three targets within three yards of it. So what? Whirlwind hits everyone, and the total damage is higher as well."

  "That's the point right there—it hits everyone. Friends and foes," Alex grunted. "But that's not even what I'm getting at. Read the description of Sweeping Strikes. Notice the part about transferring effects?"

  "I do. And?"

  "Tell me, Max. What effects does your Death Blow impart? A two-second Silence to the target and a five-second debuff halving all incoming heals. Right?"

  "Right," the warrior nodded. "But—"

  "No buts, goddamn it! The debuffs are transferred in full, without reducing the effect. Stay with me here. You Charge a mage, pop Bloodlust and Sweeping Strikes, then start alternating Death Blow and Heroic Strike. Three hostiles get hit with a two-second Silence, and if you stack the Bleed effect to three, up to four targets lose an additional ten percent HP! And you never have to worry about hitting a friendly."

  "Then why is Viper leveling Whirlwind?" Max motioned at the warrior walking behind them.

  "He's got no other choice. He's wearing Wotan's Boots of Plate—a scalable epic piece multiplying Whirlwind's effect by ten percent. Miexi told me that he'd traded his brand-spanking-new Beemer for those booties."

  "Shit..." Max exhaled in shock. "I'm not even into cars, but that's just nuts."

  "His car was worth a small fortune, yes," the ranger said. "But he still got a good deal—the trade happened back when the prices for scalable epics were barely over two hundred grand. Trust me, if those boots boosted Sweeping Strikes, one car wouldn't have been enough. A Ferrari, maybe..."

  "I still can't process the notion of trading a real car for virtual swag."

  "Oh, please! It was a brilliant trade on his part! What good would his BMW do him now? Are you really that blind to how lucky we've been thus far? You've earned that nickname, buddy. Four months in the game and ten thousand gold in the bank—that's one grand per man. One hundred thousand dollars after four months! Level 200 farmers barely make ten a month, and here you are, averaging twenty five. Our arena team was earning two gold per tournament victory, and those weren't exactly easy to come by. Of course, we never really made it out of the sandbox—it's only after level 200 that things get interesting... Hell, players in the top one hundred took home salaries comparable to those of professional athletes."

  "No way!"

  "Max, maybe you missed the memo, but e-sports have overtaken regular spots in popularity back in the twenties. Think of the world you used to live in. To become a pro baller you had to be as tall as a house; a pro hockey player—tons of expenses with equipment, skating lessons, etc. But e-sports? All you need is a computer—no bruises, no broken bones or torn ACLs. How tall were you IRL?"

  "Six two. I didn't change my height. Are you telling me you were five feet tall?"

  "No," Alex smiled. "I didn't change my height either—it's the same as it was then. I'm sure it's not that big a deal getting used to a new body, but I didn't want to bother. Even with total realism your reflexes remain the same, and altering the length of your hands and feet..."

  "I'm not sure where you're going with this."

  "I'll explain. Before virtual reality, this was never an issue. There was no physical exertion to speak of—microcontrol decided everything. You could spend fourteen hours a day practicing on your PC, and eventually you would become sufficiently skilled. Not a world champion, perhaps, but good enough to start making a living with your own web channel."

  "Microcontrol?"

  "The ability to click your mouse with the sufficient speed and precision on your monitor screen," the ranger clarified. "With the advent of virtual reality, however, things became a lot more interesting. Haven't you seen those events on the visor? Gladiator battles, death races, monster islands..."

  "You mean when a group of people was put ashore one of fifteen virtual islands that were made to seem as real as possible? I never had much time for that stuff," Max shook his head. "I used to work crazy hours for my company—I had no energy for anything by the time I got home."

  "Well, most people rather enjoy watching the action and the drama. Especially when the blood and gore look like the real thing. And the fact that it wasn't real, meaning no one could actually get hurt, much less killed, led to some of the showrunners' imaginations running wild, devising scenarios one more epic than the next. Our country never did pass any regulations against web violence; otherwise, I suspect that Hollywood would readily jump ship and move operations somewhere else. And I think our government knew that."

  Max looked up at the sun, peeking through the canopy of trees.

  "I wonder what things are like back the
re?" he wondered. "The panic has passed, I'm guessing?"

  "I reckon the panic lasted no more than a week. And quickly gave way to a frenzy. Immortality can be mighty tempting, especially considering that this world is in no danger of overpopulation."

  "Do you honestly think this world will keep expanding endlessly?"

  "Why not? Do you have any idea how enormous the sun is as compared to the Earth? If you fixed the gravity problem and terraformed it, humanity wouldn't settle it in a trillion years. As for RP-17, he wants for more of us to enter this world, since he's also constantly evolving."

  "What does one have to do with the other? I don't see the connection," Rexar interjected, who was walking behind them.

  "Are you guys really this clueless?" Alex sniffed. "You haven't heard of the theory of mind transfer? There was a guy in front of the auction house in Ellorian shouting about it for three days straight. He was some kind of doctor back home, or at least he claimed to be. I guess you were chilling on the swamp at the time."

  "What was he doing?" Helliona, who was walking alongside her man, joined the conversation.

  "And speak up, will you?" said Max. "Look around—everybody is hanging on your every word."

  "All right. Everybody is aware that before the invention of the bioprocessor in twenty five, it was impossible to create artificial intelligence of any kind? Until then, all computing mechanisms, no matter how complex, had all been zeros and ones at their core. Now imagine the human brain, even when compared to cutting-edge computer technology used by the Pentagon? The computer has got no chance. Take a simple example: somebody asks you a question and you respond, 'Yeah, probably not...' How is the computer supposed to interpret that? Now take a person. Getting up in the morning, taking the subway to work, time at the office... Thousands of people cross your path every day, and each encounter calls for a calculation. Do you smile? Meet their eyes? Say hi? With what inflection? Many used to think in those years that a machine's hard drive contained more information than the human brain, but when you account for these elementary situations, the folly of that position becomes obvious. And once you start factoring in genetic memory, forget it... To recall a famous quote: 'To copy a human being, you must first build a hard drive as big as a skyscraper.'"

 

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