The Destroying Plague

by Dan Sugralinov

  Quickly accepting the suggestion, I looked at Zoran. It seemed he was already reading the debuff. The paladin drank his heat resistance potion and waited a couple of seconds to feel the effect. His eyes widened.

  “Damn, Murphy, we need to go get some of those weeds as soon as we can! The resistance potion cut down on the debuff a little, but this is still going to be tough. This is nuts. And we’re under a protective shield right now...! What are you waiting for? Drink while you still can!”

  I wondered, would the reduced health from the debuff on me be imitated? Under Zoran’s piercing gaze, I took one of the potions too, and Imitation invited me to change the way the debuff was being shown again. The hourly health reduction went down to a tolerable one percent. Nether, how did people live here? Did they go to sleep and not wake up? All you had to do to sentence someone to death was lock them in a room.

  The paladin remembered something and ran after the councilor as he walked out of the room.

  “Mr. Westwood! One moment!”

  After a moment he came back, dripping sweat and scratching furiously, trying to poke his fingers through the joints in his plate armor to reach his skin. Unable to withstand it, he removed all his gear, ending up in light pants and a shirt. For the sake of my disguise, I did the same.

  “Listen, Murphy,” the paladin muttered. “Westwood says there’s some cooling fountain in the city. Sounds like just bathing in it nullifies the debuff. Want to go try it?”

  “With pleasure!”

  We left the hall. A tall shaman player at level seventy-six with the funny name of Ehehe was milling around outside. A round-faced man around forty years old, with a huge protruding belly, he stood in nothing but a loincloth, sweating and constantly wiping his brow with a handkerchief. He smiled broadly at the sight of us, showing jagged teeth. A strange appearance for a human character.

  “What’s up with this guy?” I asked Zoran vaguely.

  “Looks like he believes in that unannounced feature,” he shrugged. “You know, they say Snowstorm rewards you for using your real appearance by increasing your chance of getting rare loot. Or if you make yourself totally ugly, with some kind of physical defect like a limp or a squint, then it’s all legendaries, they say!”

  We reached the shaman and he spoke, his ingratiating smile still firmly in place.

  “Finally! Been standing here all day, waiting for someone, anyone.”

  “Might I ask why?” Zoran asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “It’s all because of that damn jantak weed! It only grows in the desert, you can’t buy it, you have to pick it yourself. I can’t handle it solo; it needs at least two. You got the quest, right?”

  “What makes you think we need the weed?” I butted in.

  “It’s obvious! Anyone who’s been here at least once jumps straight to the tavern or here, to the hall, with a Return Stone. But you came out of the guest hall, so that means you came by portal. Only people coming here for the first time do that. The airships arrive in the morning, and there’s no other way to get to Vermillion. It’s a desert! Although I did know one fella that decided to save money and fly on a griffin — he didn’t arrive alive. Or dead either, heh-heh… There are the caravans too, of course, but that wouldn’t be your cup of tea at all.”

  Exchanging a glance with Zoran, I shrugged. The fat guy didn’t bother me, since I was planning to quietly disappear in the desert and make my way to the place of power anyway. The paladin asked Ehehe a few more questions and found out why you couldn’t gather the weeds on your own.

  The jantak bushes were home to desert cockroaches, weak creatures, but numerous. They couldn’t deal any damage to us because of their low level, but their bites gave us a one-percent penalty to movement speed. The effect stacked. And speed, as it turned out, was the most important thing in the desert. This meant that players in Vermillion had developed a way of gathering in pairs: one took aggro from the cockroaches and drew them away while the other pulled up grass. Then they swapped roles and repeated the process.

  “What’s to stop us from quickly picking some and running away?” Zoran asked.

  “Have you seen people mining ore?” Ehehe answered his question with a question. “It’s like casting, and any cast gets interrupted when you take damage. It takes a minute to gather three bundles of weeds. How’re you going to pick them if the cockroaches are biting you all the time? They’re immune to spells too. Those parasites are tough!”

  “What about mobs?” I asked. “Cockroaches are one thing, but I bet there’s plenty of other wildlife out there.”

  “The mobs here start at level four hundred. Snakes, worms, sand spirits and elementals, vultures, basilisks, scorpids, carbuncles, giants… You can run into a dragon or a golem, a hermit or tumbleweed. The last one is awful; it’ll just digest you alive; you can’t get out and it takes ages to die.” Ehehe flinched. “If we get into trouble, nobody can save us. Be ready to respawn. Top levels can fight them, especially in a group, but we don’t have a chance. So, there’s one rule: if you see a mob, don’t aggro it, avoid it, and if you attract attention, mount up and get out if you can. But some of the mobs out there… When you realize they’re close, it’s already too late.”

  “How come you haven’t used a power-leveler?” Zoran asked with suspicion.

  “It’s expensive and… dangerous,” the shaman shook his head in annoyance. “I’ve been hanging around here a week! Me and my teammate got ganked on the first day. On the second day I spent all my money on a high-level escort. Plus, I was glad that two at once would be going with me! I was so dumb. They didn’t even take me into the desert, they just ganked me right outside the city. The next day was no better… Well, you get the picture! You see what I’m wearing. I want to finish this damn quest soon as I can do social quests. My whole progress plan revolves around Honor Points…

  Zoran scratched the back of his head quizzically. We’d thought the shaman had specially taken his gear off because of the heat, but he had none left. Feeling bad for him, we agreed to take him with us and left the city council building together.

  The road dust, stones, fences and walls of buildings — everything around was cracked and shimmering in the heat. The sweat on our faces evaporated faster than we could wipe it off. My traveling companions stopped in their tracks, getting used to the heat under the open sky — it was far cooler indoors. Making as if I was melting alongside them, I looked around.

  Fort Vermillion had grown to the size of a town, but it was still far from the size of Tristad, let alone Darant. The buildings were crowded close together. The narrow streets barely had room for two carriages to pass. The sun was descending to the horizon and people were beginning to go outside. A riding turtle crawled past with its rider, its feet moving quickly. In the distance I saw a caravan of camels raising a small dust cloud. A single-humped camel lazily chewed some thorns in a stall across the road. It was one of those epic Lakharian Dromedaries.

  “Everything dies down here around midday,” Ehehe noted between gulps from his flask of water. “The debuff is dynamic, the penalties vary depending on the time of day and the shade. Life in the fort starts after dusk…

  The fat man was in his element in the town. We took a shortcut through a tavern full of people into the backyard. From there they climbed over the fence and found themselves one district from the square into which the central street ran.

  Ehehe pointed at a small fountain with high borders. Players were splashing around in the water. Nearby, some enterprising players and NPCs sold drinks and ice cream from open wagons on wheels. The shaman licked his lips and headed toward them, asking us to find a seat. He returned with a tray of six perspiring mugs of cold, frothy beer.

  “Cheers,” Ehehe said, offering us the tray.

  Thanking him, we sat down on the stone border of the fountain. The shaman downed one of the beers in a single gulp, then started on the second at a civilized pace.

  “Let’s sit a while and then freshen up in the
fountain,” he suggested. “The heat effect is increasing, it’s best we reset it. It’s still tolerable in the city, but it’ll be horrible as soon as we go out into the desert.”

  “What about at night?” Zoran gratefully took a swig of his beer. His brows rose in surprise and he downed the rest in a few gulps. “That’s the tastiest beer I’ve ever had!”

  “It’s local,” Ehehe said with a certain pride. “Cheap, but tasty! As for night… Night brings other problems. Chills! I hope you stocked up on cold resistance? Jantak weed is rare, we’ll need to periodically come back to the city to clear the debuff.”

  According to the shaman, high-level players had taken over a narrow strip at the edge of the desert, thirty miles wide at best. They hadn’t gone any deeper, since the temperatures were even more extreme there both in the daytime and at night. Defensive potions and creams weren’t any good out there. Plus, the mobs were over level five hundred.

  We finished our drinks and bathed in the fountain, and when we got out, I suddenly felt an attentive gaze on me. I turned my head but saw nobody.

  “What’s over there, Ehehe?” I asked, pointing at a small, but high building on twelve columns with a sloping gilded roof.

  “Fortuna’s temple,” the shaman chuckled. “She’s the most worshipped goddess out here on the frontier. Even Nergal doesn’t have as many followers. It’s a good thing you reminded me, Murphy, ha-ha. You guys should look in there and get a blessing!”

  We headed for the temple. The shaman explained what to do; we had to place a sacrifice on the temple’s altar. It could be anything; an animal’s innards, gold, equipment. The goddess took everything offered and gave a blessing in return based on the value of the sacrifice.

  After queuing up for the altar, Ehehe the shaman went first. Thrice robbed and several times killed, he’d lost almost all his gear, so he could only give a handful of silver. Zoran went second. The paladin pulled out a bunch of all kinds of garbage that he hadn’t had time to sell at a vendor. He added sword and a few gold coins. A blueish glow shrouded him. Smiling widely, Zoran moved away from the altar, whispering as he walked by:

  “Don’t be stingy, it’s worth it!”

  At the altar, I felt the familiar sensation of the unwavering attention of a higher power. I’d felt such invisible pressure before. It always felt different; heavy and warming from Behemoth, fleeting and burning at Nergal’s temple in Tristad, sticky and cold from the Nucleus of the Destroying Plague. Right then I felt as if thousands of streams of champagne were pouring over me from head to foot, cooling and tickling my skin. In the hellish heat of Vermillion, it was like a gulp of water in the desert.

  I stood by the altar for several seconds, hoping that the goddess would speak to me as she did during the undead invasion. But I heard nothing but angry complaints from the people behind me in the queue.

  “Hurry it up, archer! Others are waiting!”

  I pulled out some gold, then remembered the two legendary pieces of gear that the Triad were interested in. My intuition told me that I could donate something of the exposed items — none would be the wiser, and they’d be unlikely to emerge again.

  The people were getting more antsy and I caught movement in the corner of my eye; a priest of the goddess heading toward me. I couldn’t make myself sacrifice the Vestment of Irkuyem’s Fury, the legendary druid set piece. Blocking the altar from view, I put the second legendary on it, the shamanic chainmail. Someone in the queue laughed.

  “Nobody cares about your garbage, noob! Move it along!”

  Three seconds later, Fortuna accepted the gift. A deep purple glow infused me, and I walked away from the altar under envious gazes.

  Fortuna blesses your endeavors!

  +250 luck for 12 hours.

  I had time to see the priest freeze, then start praying furiously. Some other notifications popped up:

  Your reputation with Fortuna, Goddess of Luck, has increased: +1000.

  Current reputation: trust.

  Fortuna favors you! Accept these gifts from the goddess of luck:

  +50 luck.

  +5% chance to avoid critical damage.

  +5% chance to detect invisibility.

  +5% critical hit chance.

  +5% chance to get a unique quest.

  +5% chance to get upgraded loot.

  Fortuna Smiles Upon You…

  Fortuna, the goddess of luck, wants to get to know you better. Visit Fortuna’s main temple in Kinema, which is on Bakabba.

  Rewards: next quest in the Wheel of Fortune divine quest chain.

  I accepted the quest and heard the goddess’s gentle laughter in my head. You’re funny… dead man. I heard the playful voice with perfect clarity. Sorry, Fortuna, but there’s no way I can get to the goblin continent just yet! Unless I swim across the whole ocean myself… Fortuna didn’t answer, and I put thoughts of her aside for a more appropriate time and rejoined my companions.

  “What did you sacrifice?” they asked, but I just smiled mysteriously and shrugged.

  In the end I ‘admitted’ that I’d been boosting my reputation with Fortuna for a long time and today her attitude to me moved to the next level. That caused a wave of vulgar jokes that I doubted the goddess would have liked.

  Leaving the temple, we saddled our mounts. My mechostrich rumbled beneath me, Zoran traveled on a regular horse, and Ehehe had an exotic Desert Turtle which was surprisingly quick. We soon left the bounds of the fort and found ourselves in the Lakharian Desert.

  The sun was entirely hidden behind the horizon by then. It had baked every stone and every grain of sand all day, and rare decrepit plants swapped the day’s gaudy colors for the charm of their night-time scents. It smelled as it only smells in a desert after many hours of hellish heat.

  I could have left Zoran and Ehehe some time ago, but I was putting it off. For the first time in a long time, I was in the guise of an ordinary player with ordinary quests and cares. I swore on Fortuna’s breasts, as Flaygray would have said, I was playing! Really playing, and I liked it.

  Avoiding the shadows of mobs darkening the ground beneath the scarlet sky, we moved further and further out. In half an hour of careful riding, we ran into just one jantak bush — low, just up to my knee, with fat meaty leaves, seedpods and thorns. The system illuminated a couple of sprigs of weeds that could be picked for the quest.

  I volunteered to be the first to kite the Desert Cockroaches. The shaman and paladin stood off to the side, and at their signal, I pulled at the flimsy bush, pulling it out with its long roots. Then I dropped it and started running. A stream of large, hand-sized cockroaches with oily gleaming sides flooded out of the sand.

  Afraid of running into aggressive mobs, I directed my mechostrich back in the direction we came. I had to go quite some distance away for the horrible insects to finally retreat, but at least my riding skill leveled up again. By then, Zoran had written in the group chat that they’d collected the weeds and I could go back.

  Halfway there, I saw the paladin’s portrait suddenly flashing red. Someone was attacking him. I thought it might be the shaman’s doing, but a couple of moments later both their avatars switched to skulls: both Zoran’s and Ehehe’s. They’d been killed.

  Laughter from ahead of me made me stop my mechostrich sharply. I recalled my mount, laid down and activated Stealth. Nothing stopped me from just turning around and leaving. Night would fall in a couple of hours, when the timer should kick in and throw me out of Dis. I had more than enough time to reach the place of power. I doubted Zoran or Ehehe would have any issue with me. Anyone would have run away in my position.

  But I wasn’t anyone.

  Chapter 19. The Lakharian Desert

  THERE WERE TWO of them. A hobbit at level hundred and forty-two, a fairy one level below: a rogue and a mage. A sweet ganking couple. Laughing, they dug through the bodies of the dead and exchanged comments. Hiding in the dusk, I listened and tried to decide what to do with them.

  Murphy, some gankers g
ot us. Hide! Zoran wrote in the group chat. He’d already revived, but Ehehe was offline. Apparently, this was the second time he’d died that day.

  “Damn, that guy was obnoxious,” the fairy noticed. “No decent loot either, just garbage.”

  “Carol, you need to think outside the box,” the dwarf chuckled. “That fool with his dumb nick led us to fresh meat. Look how rich this one is! So much gold dropped! Imagine what he still has!”

  “Pfft, I could have lured the paladin out myself,” the fairy giggled, taking flight above Zoran’s corpse. “I’m a cute little angel, you know!”

  Despite her size, the fairy looked alluring with her fine figure and her enticingly light dress. The dress must have been at least an epic.

  They’d already finished collecting the loot, and I had to decide quickly if I wanted to fight them. A hundred levels of difference, and I only had enough plague energy for one… Ugh, Nether! Best to just do something.