by A. M. Sohma
“Thank you, but you still haven’t made a weapon recommendation.”
“I don’t think there’s anything we have in stock that will suit your needs. The mallet does the most damage, I reckon, but it breaks real easy. If you’re traveling with a weaponsmith, they may be able to mend it, but each time it’s mended, it will get more fragile. If you’re not in a rush, I’d say your best bet is to order something—or perhaps to check the market. Someone might be selling something rare.”
The woman was right—the market where other players peddled their goods more than likely had dancer weapons. The problem was that players didn’t theme their stalls like the NPCs did. Kit would have to check every single stall herself, and even then it wasn’t guaranteed she’d find something in her price range that her character would still be able to use with such a low level.
She sighed. “Unfortunately, I’m in a bit of a rush. I will keep your words in mind if we happen to pass through here again. Thank you for your advice, though.”
The NPC nodded, then began shuffling back to her counter. “Holler if you need anything.”
Kit nodded absently as she stared at the array of dancer weapons. She brushed the mallet with a fingertip, calling its stats up on a pop-up screen. “It has a luck bonus? What good will that do? Dancer spells can’t receive critical upgrades, and they really shouldn’t be physically attacking monsters.”
She shook her head and looked over the leather whip with a grimace. She was pretty sure she’d rather have Prowl and Cookie mug a bobokin—a blue-skinned goblin—and use its wooden club than a leather whip, but she was desperate to have anything that would protect her in the meantime.
The bell attached to the door jingled, and Kit glanced over her shoulder long enough to see two guys—a pirate and a beast tamer—enter the shop.
The NPCs greeted them cheerfully. The beast tamer returned the greeting as they perused the two-handed swords.
Kit furrowed her eyebrows and went back to staring at possible dancer weapons. She was considering a stick covered in bells when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kit, being a tall elf, looked down at the pirate who smirked as he squeezed her.
“Hey there. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
Kit’s brain flatlined for a moment as she was struck dumb. People actually use lame pickup lines like that? She’d received more unwanted male attention in the past game day (assumedly because of her class’s awful armor) than she had in her entire existence as her main character, and she was feeling particularly unsympathetic. So she pasted a wooden look on her face and said,
“Welcome to Luminos!”
The pirate blinked. “Um, what?”
Kit jerkily clasped her hands in front of her. “Retha needs your help, hero!”
Wrinkles spread across the pirate’s forehead. “You’re...an NPC?”
“The shadow of darkness stands over the land,” Kit parroted.
“One of the anniversary NPCs,” the pirate muttered.
In homage to the old RPGs, Retha had released a number of anniversary NPCs during the second year Retha had launched. These rare NPCs parroted dozens of old lines from even older games.
The pirate stared above Kit’s head—looking at her nameplate probably—when his friend nudged him. “Hey, I think I found a saber for you. It’s not as good as the one you were telling me about, but it’s way cheaper. Hello.” The beast tamer finished by nodding at Kit.
“Welcome to Luminos!” Kit repeated.
The beast tamer shifted his gaze from Kit to his friend. “And you are staring at an anniversary NPC.”
“I thought she was a player.”
“Let me correct that, you were apparently hitting on an anniversary NPC.”
The pirate scratched his ear. “I think she really is a player, she’s just pulling our legs.”
The beast tamer rolled his eyes. “If she is, then you’ve obviously made her super uncomfortable. Come on.” He yanked his friend along by his arm, pulling him away.
Kit relaxed as they approached the counter, and returned her attention to the dancer weapons. She had nearly gone over all of them when a pair of blue silk fans covered with painted petals caught her eye. It had both an intelligence bonus and a vitality bonus, two important stats for dancers. Intelligence determined the amount of mana Kit had, and vitality would help keep her alive longer and increase her health—a particularly important thing as dancers were given a pathetic amount of health points.
The fans didn’t do much damage, but then again neither did any of the other dancer weapons.
Her mind made up, Kit selected the fans and waited until the pirate and beast tamer had left before carrying them up to the front counter.
The slender male NPC wordlessly took her money (the fans had cost her nearly a third of the remaining gold she had left) then bowed low.
“Come see us again,” the female NPC said in a singsong voice.
“Thanks!” Kit slipped out of the shop and into the street, accidentally stepping directly into the path of an Imperial guard.
The guard narrowed his gaze as he studied her. “Are you...?”
“No! Definitely not me!” Kit zipped back into Griffin Hill Armory so fast she almost shut the door on her skirt.
The female shopkeeper didn’t look up from polishing the sword. “Told you,” she said.
Kit scurried to the back of the store, passing the dancer weapons once again before she reached an unassuming door in the back corner. It opened directly into the back alleyway that was surprisingly cool. It smelled faintly of over-ripe fruit, but was shaded by the buildings and riddled with shadows.
Kit shut the door behind her and leaned against it. “Whew.” That was more stress than I would’ve liked to encounter. When her heart stopped frantically beating, she took a moment to equip her new fans, both of which hung from her wrists on pink silk cords.
She admired them and tried snapping them open and closed a couple times with a flick of her wrists.
Gravel crunched under a boot, and Kit whirled around to see a woman dressed in all black ghosting down the alleyway. A moment of scrutiny revealed she was NPC—probably thief based on her elegant gait.
Satisfied, Kit returned her attention to her fans and flicked them open again. Just as she shut the fans with a click, she realized an NPC thief would undoubtedly be allied with the Court of the Rogue. Kit glanced back at her as she drew closer, and this time saw the glittering dirk in her hands.
Kit sprinted down the alley faster than she’d ever run before. “Fudge. Fudge! I mean it, fudge!” She shot out of the alleyway, skidding into the main street and raising a small cloud of dust.
“There she is!”
Kit turned around, and this time was treated to the sight of several Imperial guards marching after her.
“Halt!” the leader called.
“Nope!” Kit darted between the crowds, heading west to the armorsmith guild. If anything, this afternoon has taught me it will take more sugar and cocoa than Retha has to make enough candy to worm my way out of this. Maybe I should have just chosen furniture maker. At least then I would have a hammer I could throw at them!
Kit reached the armorsmithy much faster than expected, likely due to her elf athleticism that seemed to inconsistently kick in. She leaned up against the smithy and peered up and down the road, looking to see if the soldiers or thief had successfully followed her.
Good. I’m in the clear!
Kit stepped into the smithy, her eyes stinging from the heat of the forge, where a dwarf worked on a giant warhammer.
“What do you want?” A snot-nosed kid asked. He was perched on a precariously leaning stool and had a huge book sitting on a wooden bench in front of him.
“I’m here to apply for an armorsmith apprenticeship.”
The kid rubbed his nose and tore a page out of the book. “Are you aware of the guild rules, which clearly state once you are accepted as armorsmith you cannot leave the guild. ‘N you can onl
y be a part of two crafting guilds. After you are accepted as an apprentice, you are expected to abide by guild rules—which includes not pestering the senior smiths to make stuff for you because you’re a wussy beginner and haven’t got enough strength to your blows. You got it?” He looked at her as if he doubted she understood much of anything as he dipped a white feather quill into an inkwell.
Kit took the paper and quill from him. “I know how it works. I just sign at the bottom?”
“Yep.”
From sheer habit, Kit skimmed over the apprenticeship paper. She paused when she heard a little bell ring and a transparent screen popped up in front of her.
You have a private message from: Riko.
Accept message?
Kit flicked the yes button.
“Hey, Kit. The group is all set. Everyone has their crafting classes and is geared up about as best as we can do at this local level.”
“Great! Thanks, Riko.”
“It was my pleasure. So where are you? Prowl and I will come pick you up. We’ll bring you to the quest starting point, then we can all get started at the same time.”
Kit brushed her cheek tattoo with the feather quill. “I’m at the armor smithy.”
“We’ll be there shortly.”
“Okay.”
Kit finished reading the paper—which was the same basic rules all crafting guilds presented their apprentices—then signed her character name with a grimace. “Here.” Kit handed the paperwork back to the skinny boy.
He glanced at it, then carried it over to a crate and filed it. On his way back to his stool, he grabbed six scrolls and a grease-covered tool belt.
“These are yours now. It’s the basic starter set all apprentices are given, and the six basic armorsmith recipes. As you get better, you’ll be able to understand more recipes and forge more armor, but it will take a lot of practice.”
“Thanks,” Kit said. She picked up the scrolls and opened them, making them disappear as they were added to her skill inventory.
Congratulations! You can now forge: Bronze Armor.
Congratulations! You can now forge: Bronze Boots.
It continued in the same vein as she opened up the last of them, then added the toolbelt to her inventory.
“If you want help getting started, talk to Bailbrock over there.” The kid pointed to a jolly-looking man who stood next to a cool forge.
“Maybe some other time,” Kit said. “Thanks for accepting me!”
She waved to the kid, then stepped outside after cautiously poking her head out and peering up and down the street.
“Kit!” Riko waved to her from farther up the street, with Prowl at her side. “You decided to become an armorsmith?”
Kit trotted up to the pair with a smile. “Yeah. I want to be able to forge something that covers up more of my body so it doesn’t look like I’m walking into battle asking to be run through the belly with a spear. Plus, I really don’t like walking around like this, feeling only half dressed.”
Prowl frowned at her. “Didn’t you pick the wrong crafting class then?”
Kit blinked. “What do you mean?”
Prowl adjusted his goggles. “Dancers don’t wear metal armor like plate metal and chainmail. Their clothes are always made of silks and linen, which you need to be a tailor to make.”
Kit stared unseeingly at a building and curled her hands into tight fists. She was so angry that not even so much as a single thought was able to surface in the churning pits of her mind.
“Did you not know that?” Riko gently asked.
“No.”
“How could you not?” Prowl snorted. “Your main character is an echo of arcane. They also only wear cloth armor.”
“I never really paid attention to my armor class,” Kit said.
Prowl snapped his goggles off his head. “You were in one of the top raid and PVP guilds. How could you not be aware of armor classes? You had to have purchased gear for your character!”
“One of my guildmasters gave me all the battle gear I ever owned,” Kit said.
Prowl opened and closed his hands like a cat flexing its claws. “You sound like a MMORPG equivalent of a clueless trust-fund kid when you say something like that.”
“Prowl,” Riko scolded.
Kit pressed her palms into her eyeballs. “This is awful! It isn’t bad enough Bryce saddles me with this terrible character, but I sabotage myself, too!”
Riko tilted her head. “Are you really that angry?”
“I’m FURIOUS!”
Riko smiled and patted Kit on the back. “Perhaps it isn’t so bad. Do you have your other crafting job open?”
Kit shook her head.
“No? What did you decide on?” Riko asked.
“Candymaker.”
Kit, Riko, and Prowl were all silent as they marveled over Kit’s poor choice in crafting jobs.
“Considering you’re Azarel, you’re a lot less intelligent than I thought you’d be,” Prowl said bluntly.
Riko frowned sharply. “Prowl!”
“I killed your guild leader whenever I faced him in a PVP match,” Kit said darkly. “You should ask him how intelligent I am.”
The threat seemed to appease Prowl, for he nodded. “That’s better. Well, you’re screwed. But standing around isn’t going to change anything. Let’s go to the quest starting point.” Prowl folded his arms behind his head and began to stroll away.
“It isn’t that bad, Kit,” Riko said as they trailed behind him. “It’s not like you’ll have time to level your crafting class anyway. If I remember correctly, this quest takes you all across Retha. And you can always buy more…protective clothing. Prowl can lend you the money if you need it.”
“Stop volunteering me to bankroll everything!” Prowl barked.
Kit sighed. “Thanks, Riko. I’m sorry…I know I’ve been gone five years, but I’ve still been playing other games. I didn’t think I’d be so…out of it.”
Riko laughed. “I’m fairly certain that anyone who has to deal with the class, race, and reputation you’ve been given would be ‘out of it’ as well. Try not to let it get to you.”
“Yeah.”
“Attention, Heroes. Retha is still experiencing server difficulties. Log off capabilities remain unavailable, but we are investigating the issue. Thank you for your patience.”
The announcement was made in a computerized voice, making it pleasant sounding but flat.
Prowl shook his head. “I still think it’s stupid to attempt this quest line with such a small party…but I’m glad we’re doing something to try and get out.”
“Yes,” Kit agreed. “Did you notice the sneaky wording? They said they’re ‘investigating’ the issue, but they didn’t mention a patch installation or a fix that will solve it.”
“They probably don’t want to make it public that the issue is more urgent than it seems,” Riko said. “Either way, I agree with Prowl. We need to make this quest our priority. Our lives might depend on it.”
Kit grimaced. “I really hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The druid smiled sadly. “Me, too.”
7
A New Quest Received
Kit was unsurprised that the NPC responsible for handing out the mission was an ancient geezer who reeked of alcohol and was so old his skin was papery and mottled. He was splayed out in a back alleyway behind one of the many Luminos taverns, clutching an empty pint mug the way a baby holds a bottle.
The rest of the party stood near him. Cookie and Axel looked around with interest while Vic pinched her nose closed and Gil waved to them.
“Are you ready to begin?” Gil asked.
Kit fussed with the silver bells that were attached to the leather cord that tied her hair back. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Let’s talk to him.”
“Before we begin, if he asks you anything about having approached Malignus’s stronghold, just say you have,” Prowl said.
“Yes, sir.” Cookie saluted him.
“What? What do you want? I ain’t hurting nobody!” The old man scowled at Axel and cradled his mug.
Prowl crouched in front of him. “I’ve heard rumors you can tell us how to get into Malignus’s stronghold. Are the whispers right?”
The old man peered at Prowl with bloodshot eyes. “Maybe they are, maybe they ain’t. What’s it to you?”
“We’re looking to remove the wall,” Riko said.
“Wall?” Axel parroted.
Prowl slapped his hand over the young warrior’s mouth, but he was too late.
“Ah, the wall.” The old man stared unseeingly at an empty crate. “The wall that seals in the ancient evil. Once our world was on the brink of ruin. All the free peoples were under siege by Lord Valdis Moarte, who filled the land with blood and death.”
“Now you’ve done it,” Prowl growled.
“What has he done?” Gil asked.
Kit flipped a broken crate upside down so she could sit on it. “He asked what the wall was, so now the old guy has to fill us in on Retha’s lore. You may as well make yourself comfortable; we’re in for a wait.”
“An alliance of elves, fae, dwarves, and men fought together and locked up the Lord Valdis, sealing his spirit and locking it away…. But the success came at great cost,” the old man rattled on. “Man, once powerful and united under the Solis Empire, lost so many armies that the empire crumbled, and now only a small remnant remains. Elves found their forests polluted—”
“And let me tell you they never shut up about it ever since they found that out,” Kit complained.
“Dwarves were forced to mine some of their most precious quarries into desolation, and more. But with Valdis Moarte sealed in what once was his castle, peace returned. Centuries passed, and the great sacrifice of our ancestors was forgotten until a new evil stirred, Malignus. Twisted and dark, he is a necromancer who forced his way into the lands that once belonged to Lord Valdis. His sole goal is to revive Lord Valdis Moarte and cast Retha back into ruin.”