by A. M. Sohma
The sprawling main room was part study, part sitting room, and part kitchen. Bookshelves were pushed against whatever solid bit of wall there was, and in the dead center of the room was a circle of chairs and low-back benches.
The side of the building that overlooked the alleyway held a small kitchen with shelves stacked tight with vials, sacks, and wooden dishes.
Two rooms connected off the main chamber—a modest bedroom, and a ridiculously lavish bathroom.
Though she had been gone for years, there was not a speck of dust in the place, and the air was still heavy with the fragrance of dried oranges.
For the first time since logging into Retha, Kit felt like she was back.
“I have quite a bit of extra gear here—though it might not be class-specific. At least I have a lot of potions, weapons, and other useful stuff. I think I may even have a pet cat for you, Vic.” Kit marched into her apartment, opening cabinets and peering at her bookshelves. “You’ll mostly find things in the storeroom off my bedroom. You can take whatever you want, as everything of serious worth is locked to my main character already.”
Vic and Axel wasted no time in trundling into the bedroom after Kit pointed it out.
“So many clothes!” The warrior complained as he waded through the bedroom.
“This way, Axellent,” Vic sneered.
“Watch it, wizard, or I’ll let you die on the field.”
Gil inched toward the bedroom, but almost took out a suit of armor with one of his pauldrons. “You have a rather impressive array of material items,” he noted.
Kit flipped open a tiny jewelry box and frowned at the contents. “When you’ve played as many videogames as I have, you learn that sooner or later you need just about every drop or armor item you come across and become a hoarder.” She offered the tall crusader a quick smile. “I’m almost positive I have several spears with better stats than the one you’re carrying. If they’re not in the back room, let me know. They might be with one of the suits of armor in the bathroom.”
Gil bowed to Kit, then maneuvered his way around Cookie, the druid, and the saboteur—whom the night stalker was filling in.
As Cookie explained to them about Bryce, and that killing Malignus was the one way out of the game, Kit continued to search the main chamber of her apartment. She eventually found what she was looking for: mount medallions, tossed carelessly in a gold bowl that was situated on an end table.
There were lots of ways to get around Retha, but when one was not traveling by a teleportation gate, the fastest way was to ride a mount. There were all kinds of mounts—from regular horses, to flying dragons and pegasus, to giant elk. The most common, and perhaps the most dependable, were everyday horses.
While mounts of any kind were usually quite expensive to purchase, thankfully, players were often given mounts as gifts from NPCs or as rewards for completing quests.
Kit had an abundance of them, as she had been obsessed with collecting as many of the horse mounts as possible, and she hadn’t even bothered to bind all of them to her character. She fished a handful of the mount medallions—the tiny metal trinket that would allow a player to summon a mount and bind it to their character—out of the bowl and considered calling the rest of the party.
“I’m sorry, we swooped down on you and never bothered to introduce ourselves.”
Kit swiveled her attention to the druid and saboteur, nodding to Cookie as the night stalker—having finished her explanation—slipped into Kit’s bedroom to join the rest of the party. “Don’t worry about it. Everything is a little crazy and upside down right now. I’m Kit—though as I mentioned before, this character is a secondary character and my main is—was—Azarel.”
“Cookie explained to us that Kitten Lovemuch was your cousin’s idea of a joke,” the druid said.
“An elf dancer is a joke,” the saboteur stressed as he adjusted the goggles that were nestled into his hair. “But Azarel...You were Milk Crown’s echo of arcane, right?” he asked, naming her original character class.
Kit nodded.
The saboteur raised his eyebrows. “How the mighty have fallen. Uck!” He gurgled when the druid elbowed him directly in the face.
“I’m Riko, and this is Prowl. We’re both from the guild La-Lune,” the druid said.
Kit shook Riko’s hand when she offered it, though she winced at her seemingly poor memory skills. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry to say I don’t really remember hearing about La-Lune.”
“I should think not,” Riko laughed. “It wasn’t established until after Milk Crown disbanded. We’re only a medium-sized raid guild, but our guildmaster is Tough Beard.”
Kit brightened considerably after hearing the dwarf’s name. “I’ve played with Tough Beard!”
“Yeah, the old man got around,” Prowl said as he scratched his side. “La-Lune has a pretty decent ally list and contact list because he’s old as dirt.”
“Is he online?”
Riko shook her head. “I’m afraid not. He and everyone else from the guild who were playing when the server crashed all had rental units. Prowl and I are the only two who were in full submersion. That’s why we would be particularly thankful if you would let us join you.”
Kit discreetly glanced at their nameplates to confirm they were members of La-Lune. Pulling up their public profile, she could see that La-Lune was indeed run by Tough Beard. It gave her some comfort to know players she had been acquainted with were still around.
Confident she wasn’t inviting less-savory players into the party—like a player killer—she extended a party invitation to them. “We’d be happy to have you. Though I’m sorry to say we aren’t as well organized as you’re giving us credit for. I know we need to kill Malignus, and I also know there is a quest line that pits you against him in the final stretch, but I don’t know where it begins.”
“You never played it as Azarel?” Prowl asked.
“Nope. It seemed like a waste of time, as I thought Malignus was unbeatable,” Kit said.
Prowl grunted. “I don’t blame you.”
“It’s a big problem, though, as we can’t exactly look up a guide on the community tab,” Kit said.
Riko beamed. “Have no fear! These are our secondary characters. Prowl has actually gone through this quest on his original character and was violently killed by Malignus multiple times!”
“Careful, your glee is showing,” Prowl said wryly.
Riko’s smile grew. “I wasn’t there, but I was told it was such a beautiful sight, watching Malignus take him out with a single stab.”
“Yeah, which is how I know it’s not possible for us to do it with this dinky little group,” Prowl said.
“Even with you guys joining us, we would never attempt it with this small group,” Kit said. A druid and a saboteur would be welcome additions—the druid was a mage class that used mostly nature-based spells, whereas saboteurs belonged to the thief class and used lots of traps and tricks to stop monsters and then strike when they were weakest. “My hope is that by the time we finish the quest line, EC will have either fixed everything, or players will be more open to the idea given the amount of time that will have passed.”
“So we’re gonna leave soon, then?”
Kit, Riko, and Prowl turned to face Axellent, who was leaning against the bedroom door frame.
Prowl raised an eyebrow—a gesture he seemed quite fond of. “Are you trying to get gossiper or busy-body as a life skill?”
“No.” Axel held up a fur cape. “The old guy wanted me to double check with you that I can take this as it’s got quite a bit of attack boost.”
“Go for it, as long as you can actually wear it,” Kit said.
“Jackpot!” Axel slung the cape over his shoulders, fastening it to his dented metal breastplate.
“The gossiper does bring up a point,” Prowl said. “I assume you want to set out on this thing as quickly as possible?”
“No,” Kit said. “We don’t want to go out ill-prepared, or we’ll ju
st have to come right back. Besides, at bare minimum, all of us lower-level characters should choose our crafting jobs.”
In addition to their character class, players were given the opportunity to select two crafting jobs for their characters. Players could learn anything from armorsmithing, to cooking, or even toy-making. Usually players chose useful crafting classes for their main characters. Azarel, for instance, was a jeweler—giving her the ability to make enchanted jewelry—and an excavator—so she could mine ore in search of jewels for her work.
Leveling a crafting job could be frustrating and boring as all get out, but even having basic skills for some of the crafting classes—like potion making—would be extremely useful as they set out on the quest.
“That’s reasonable enough,” Riko said. “I can take the four greenhorns around and advise them about the best crafting classes.”
“Are you sure?” Kit asked. “I need to choose crafting classes too, so I have to go anyway.”
“Perhaps, but it will take you quite a bit longer to escort them around as you’ll be busy dodging guards and members of the Court of the Rogue,” Riko said.
“I wonder if they’ll be shot on sight as well if they’re seen wandering around with you,” Prowl said.
“While I’m handling the crafting thing, Prowl can send out private messages to some of our contacts who are still online,” Riko said.
Prowl frowned at his fellow guild member. “When did you get administrative privileges, old lady?”
Riko’s smile was flawless as she grabbed Prowl by the cheek and yanked his head up and down. “You’re so cute, for a potty-mouthed juvenile delinquent.”
Prowl freed himself and frowned, then wisely scooted out of Riko’s reach.
“It’s settled, then,” Riko said firmly. “My, this might be fun! It’s been quite a while since I’ve hung out with young folk—they are so refreshing.”
“And you wonder why I call you old lady,” Prowl muttered.
“I don’t know that Gil is as young as the others,” Kit said.
“Perfect! He’ll add a touch of the distinguished to the party. It will be such fun!” Riko held her hand to her cheek and smiled happily.
Prowl eyed Kit. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll just keep to the heavily populated areas where I can creep around in the shadows. I think it’s harder to spot me in a crowd of people. I’ll go shopping while I’m at it. I have a lot of stuff here in my house, but there are a few extra status cures and potions I think we should have on hand, just in case.”
Riko nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Good luck!”
“Thanks. You, too.” Kit could barely keep from gleefully rubbing her hands together. Besides survival, she had a more selfish desire to get a crafting class—specifically that of armorsmith. If she could make her own armor, she wouldn’t have to waltz around baring her belly to every monster as a convenient target.
Soon! She promised herself. Soon Kitten Lovemuch will be just a bit more respectable.
She should have known better.
6
Select Crafting Class
When Kit heard the synchronized stomp of a squad of soldiers marching down the street, she stopped rummaging through her inventory long enough to adjust the gauzy scarf she had wrapped around her head. Nonchalantly, she scooted closer into the shadows cast by a stall cabana, and smiled at the NPC merchant with whom she was bartering.
The woman placed her folded hands in front of her and smiled. “Do you have anything else you wish to share, customer?”
“Possibly...” When she could no longer hear the soldiers, she returned to considering her inventory again. Before leaving the loft, she had ransacked her home for any spare items she could sell. Though her main character was flush with money, Kitten Lovemuch had no way to access it. Just as it was in the real world, money and economics played a key role in Retha, so Kit was highly motivated to gather as many funds as she could before leaving.
She pulled a few more items out of her inventory screen, making them manifest in her hands. “How about this gold ingot, these three sharpened daggers, and one hundred and fifty-two pieces of fluff?”
“Hmm...” The merchant poked over the goods with a critical eye before renewing their barter session.
Kit haggled heavily, securing a number of humility potions—which, when drunken, significantly lowered the amount of aggro a player pulled. (She had a feeling those would come in handy, particularly given that they still didn’t have a dedicated healer.)
“Thank you for your business!” The woman called when they finished the transaction. “Please come again!”
Kit smiled and waved, then joined the stream of players that trickled up and down Retailer Row—the street where most NPC run shops were located in Luminos.
“Let’s see...I bought the extra health and mana potions; we have plenty of antidotes and cures; I got about as many aggro potions as we can afford, and enough sugar and cocoa powder to choke a giant. All that’s left is to get weapons and become an apprentice armorsmith.”
There was an extra spring in Kit’s step, making the bells of her anklets jingle extra annoyingly. She was in high spirits as no soldiers had caught sight of her yet, and joining the candy maker’s crafting guild had been a great deal more fun than she’d expected.
Kit had settled on candy making as her second crafting class, mostly because she knew the second class would be almost completely ignored as her greatest interest was in crafting armor. She also picked it as a futile attempt to buy her way back into the goodwill of Retha’s general population.
Managing a character’s reputation was always a confusing exercise as various groups would like and dislike you based on the opinions of other groups, and your reputation changed marginally based on anything from the NPCs you spoke with to the kind of game you hunted in certain areas. It was constantly changing, and each race had its own requirements in order to gradually accept you. There were big things, of course, like completing large quests. Players could often give specific items to NPCs in order to strengthen those relationships, as well. Each race or organization had a customized list of things they liked, so no one liked the same things, making collecting those items a real pain. The only exception was candy. Everyone, from dwarves, to elves, to even the Empress of the remaining bits of the Solis Empire loved candy.
Candy crafting’s only point was to give treats away to NPCs and improve the character’s reputation. As such, most people never bothered with such a crafting class—unless perhaps it was on their second or third character. Kit had always been curious about the crafting class, and she suspected it perhaps was the only way she could actually win her way back into anyone’s good graces.
Kit dodged a chicken, ignored a guy who cat-called her, and wove around a huddle of players who were loudly bargaining with a merchant over a keg of apple cider. It probably would’ve made more sense to take up a more useful secondary crafting class, but after I get out of here, I’m never going to use Kitten again. Besides, if it really works, giving out candy might be the only way to reverse the effects of Bryce’s meddling.
She paused outside the open door of a clean and carefully arranged store—Griffin Hill Armory. Inside it smelled of leather and wood varnish, and it was just as impressive as she remembered. Racks of weapons lined the whitewashed walls, and barrels of carefully fletched arrows were sorted according to their elements—with light arrows on one end and ice arrows on the other.
Kit had never bought a weapon from Griffin Hill Armory before. Her main character had been a magic user—which meant her weapons mostly consisted of ancient tomes or extravagantly carved wands and staffs. But she had visited the store hundreds of times with her fellow guild members, and it held many memories for her.
The same two NPCs that used to run Griffin Hill Armory back when Kit played Retha were still there: a tall, slender man who wore an archer’s armguard, and a squat woman with thick muscles who could have passed for a
dwarf if she had more hair.
The woman briefly smiled at Kit. “Welcome!” She barked. She went back to polishing a broadsword, until her slender companion nudged her when Kit lingered nearby. “Do you need help finding something?”
“Can you tell me if you have any weapons for dancers?” Kit asked.
The woman nodded and waddled around the wooden counter. “Back here.” She led the way to the rear of the store, pausing next to a roaring fireplace. “We got the basics—your leather whips and dancers’ mallets.” She pointed to the oversized wooden hammers that were as tall as Kit and designed to use more as an anchor for dances than for actual damage. “We can order something special if you know what you want—and if you’ve got the money for it.”
Kit let her scarf slide from her head. “Is there anything you’d particularly recommend?”
The woman shrewdly eyed Kit’s tapered ears that poked out of her silky hair. “You’re an elf?”
“Yes.” Kit tried to respond without sounding like death, but she was not convinced she actually pulled it off.
“You must be on an...interesting journey,” the woman said.
“And you’re probably the least judgmental person I’ve met yet,” Kit sighed. “I would choose a different...path...if I could, but unfortunately I’m stuck. I badly need a weapon—I’ve encountered too many monsters to waltz around without one.”
The woman scratched her chin. “Most dancer weapons aren’t made with damage in mind.”
“That’s just great,” Kit said dryly. She glanced out the window and noticed two soldiers patrolling the street. She tried to discreetly edge out of eyesight, but it seemed nothing got past the weapon dealer.
“You’re an elf dancer who is also wanted by the Imperials?” The woman asked.
Kit tried to keep her face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The woman shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. We get customers on both sides of the law here. But if you’re wishing to avoid the Imperials, I suggest you take the back door out after you’ve made up your mind.”