by James Hunter
“We’re going to get busy,” Abby finally said. Her face was pale and waxy, but her voice hard with resolve. With conviction and anger. For the first time, I felt that same conviction and anger brewing in me. Generally, I was an easy-going, go-along-to-get-along kind of guy, but I didn’t like being threatened. I didn’t like being bullied. In high school, I’d been the butt of too many jokes; one of the best parts about growing up was leaving all the high school B.S. behind. But here this guy was—some drug-dealing thug from Colombia—threatening me and the people important to me. I wasn’t going to let that slide.
“Carrera is overconfident,” Abby said. “He’s cocky. He gave us two days because he’s sure we aren’t a threat to him. But we can use that overconfidence to our advantage.”
“Yeah, but where do we even start?” I asked, running a shaky hand through my hair.
Abby paused for a moment, then glanced over at the Golem. “Maybe we should ask him,” she said.
FOURTEEN: Initiate Tutorial
I turned toward the Golem, not quite sure what to say. “I don’t suppose you have some sort of tutorial for us, do you?”
Surprisingly, the creature nodded, his face flat and solemn, then held out one hand, palm up. For a beat nothing happened, but then emerald light began to bleed from his rocky flesh, coalescing into a globe of brilliant light the size of a beach ball, twirling lazily above the Golem’s hand as we watched. “Faction leaders have a tremendous number of tools at their disposal,” the creature intoned. As he spoke, the twirling glob of light began to change and stretch, unfurling like a flower’s petals, until a hazy interface screen hung in the air for everyone to see.
“First, as Faction Leader, you have the ability to access the Faction Leader Tool Screen, which offers you numerous options. From this menu, you can appoint officers, accept new members into your ranks, and set the rules and ordinances that govern your faction.” The creature gave a slight shake of his hand, and suddenly the hazy interface simmered, shifted, and morphed again: now we saw a new screen, labeled Darkshard Keep. “From there, you can also access the Keep’s interactive menu, used for making updates and upgrades to the compound.
“As the chieftain mentioned, this Keep sits above a powerful ley line, which constantly feeds me energy. Using alchemic spirit magic, I can directly tap into that power and convert Dark energy into physical matter. Here”—with his free hand he pointed to a number, 17,000, sitting in the top right corner of the interface—“is the amount of current Dark energy I have in my reserve. The ley line generates approximately 1,000 points of Dark energy per day. Using this menu, you can select different Keep features, which can be built or upgraded by investing these Dark energy points.”
An interfaced button labeled “Keep Features” flashed, and suddenly a huge scroll-down list of options appeared, along with a point value for each item:
Water Well and Reservoir, 350 pts
Kitchen, 1,200 pts
Stables, 1,500 pts
Alchemy Lab, 3,800 pts
Internal Teleport Hub, 1,750 pts
External Teleport Hub, 2,500 pts
Armory, 1,800 pts
Master Suite, 950 pts
Guard Towers, 700 pts (each)
Exterior Wall, 50 pts per 100 feet
Training Grounds:
—Archery Range, 2,500 pts
—Melee Combat Arena, 2,500 pts
—Sorceress Laboratory, 2,500 pts
—Agility Course, 2,500 pts
On and on the list went. I whistled in awe and ran my hand along my jaw as I thought, scratching absently at my scruffy beard. Wow. There were hundreds of rooms, items, and features to choose from. Hundreds of thousands worth of points in potential upgrades available to us. On top of that, there was even a “Keep Guard Creator,” which would allow me to upgrade the Keep’s existing guardians and even unlock other types of faction-friendly mobs—Giant Moat Leeches, Roving Keep Hounds, Pit Fiends.
Even with the seventeen-thousand-point surplus currently available to us, if the Keep only generated 1,000 points of energy a day, it would take years to acquire every potential feature and upgrade this place had to offer.
“Is there any way to increase the number of points generated each day?” Abby asked, seeming to read my thoughts.
“No.” The creature shook his blocky head. “But Raw Darkshard Ore is a naturally powerful source of Dark energy. I can convert one pound of raw ore into 3 spendable points.” Hmm. That opened up some interesting possibilities—maybe I needed to reconsider that mining profession after all. Before I could think any more about that, however, the Golem’s magical projection shimmered and changed again.
Now a giant skill tree hung suspended before us. “In addition to the Faction Leader Tool Screen,” the Golem intoned, “your faction also has its own Level and Leadership Skill Tree. All skills and abilities selected from the Leadership Skill Tree will be uniformly applied to every member of your faction. Each faction starts off with six Leadership Points to invest; you will earn five additional points at each subsequent faction level—though be warned, gaining faction levels is incredibly difficult and time intensive.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The Universal Alert had briefly mentioned that all Crimson Alliance members would receive faction buffs, but I hadn’t fully understood the implications at the time. But this was a huge advantage—depending on what choices we made, our faction members would have some significant advantages over other players. I paused … but that also meant the other factions would have some nasty extras as well—surprises we’d need to take into consideration when making our plans.
“How does leveling for the faction work?” I asked.
“Factions level up in the same way as all of Eldgard’s citizens,” the creature replied placidly. “By accumulating experience points and hitting level targets. Faction experience points can be earned in a number of different ways: Recruiting new members grants a certain number of points, as does upgrading features in the Keep. The most effective way, however, is through the EXP tax. Faction members gain a number of benefits from joining, but in return, you may tax both their experience and loot—redirecting a portion of each into the faction reserves. How much you tax, if at all, is up to you. With that said, if you tax too heavily, the faction will level up quickly, but your members won’t.
“Now,” the Golem said a bit sharply, gesturing toward the floating skill tree. “There are three distinct branches you can chose from—Battle-Craft, State-Craft, Merchant-Craft—or you can mix and match from all three, depending on what you want your faction to focus on or specialize in. Unlike personal skills, however, which can be upgraded a total of seven times by investing additional Proficiency Points, there is only one available level for each Faction Skill.” The Golem’s glowing light display winked out of existence, leaving a purple afterimage briefly floating in the air. “That is the end of the overview. Do you have any other questions, Baron?”
I paused at the title, not sure how I felt about it, then shook my head. “Okay,” I said, rounding on the others. “So, obviously, I need to induct you guys into the faction, then we should probably start restoring the Keep, write some sort of constitution for our faction, then figure out what to do with our available Leadership Points.”
“That sounds fine, Jack,” Cutter replied, then paused, taking a long look around at the disheveled command center. “But let’s restore this room, eh? All this sounds like the makings of a long and exhausting night, and if we have to hash out all this bureaucratic bullshite, I for one would like to be comfortable while doing it.”
“I second that,” Abby offered, rubbing her hands along her arms, suppressing a slight shiver. During the day, the Storme Marshes were blistering hot, but at night the humidity could make things uncomfortably cool—especially since we were in a giant tower, with a stiff breeze running right through the middle of everything.
“Okay,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. The Golem had already said this was
the most important room in the Keep, so I had no qualms about upgrading the place.
I pulled up my new Leader Tool Screen, then toggled over to the Darkshard Keep interface. It took me only a few seconds to locate the “Command Center” in the long list of available features; I mentally selected “restore,” spending 700 points in an eyeblink. The response to my decision was immediate and overwhelming: a flash of emerald power filled the air—emanating from the walls and bubbling up through the floors—as the room began to change. The rubble littering the ground dissolved and melted into pools of clear liquid, which evaporated into the night.
Then, right before my eyes, the ruined walls began to blur and swirl, old pitted stone giving way to dark, polished rock covered with thick tapestries, showing various battle scenes in intricate detail. A vaulted ceiling, boasting an elaborate chandelier, blinked into existence, while off to my right a massive fireplace took shape. Thick carpets grew from the cold stone floor like grass, and a second later a dark wood table—a hulking round thing, polished to a dull glow, with a huge emerald-green crystal in its center—appeared in the middle of the room, surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs with thick leather cushions. The whole process took only a handful of minutes, and by the time things had finally settled, the room was entirely transformed.
Cutter let out a bark of a laugh, then clapped his hands in approval. “Good show,” he said, a giant grin stretching out his face. “I can definitely get used to this.”
I nodded, knowing a similar grin decorated my own face. It was pretty cool, after all. “Alright,” I said, sauntering over to one of the chairs, plopping down, and letting the padded leather absorb my weight. I let out a sigh—despite its elegant and even imposing appearance, the chair was hands down the most comfortable thing I’d ever sat in. “We’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it, so let’s sit down and work things out …”
The others—save for Baymor and his pair of Ranger pals, who stood watch at the door—took seats as we began digging into the nitty-gritty details. First, I manually added Abby, Otto, and Cutter to the faction, and after a quick discussion, Amara joined the team. Secretly, I’d been hoping Chief Kolle would sign up, but apparently as the official leader of Yunnam, he was obligated to remain apart from the faction, though he could work closely with us and offer us his invaluable advice.
With that done, I quickly elevated Abby to the rank of commander—equivalent to the faction vice-president. The promotion granted her the rank of baroness, gave her full access to the Leader Tool Screen, and authorized her to make binding decisions on behalf of the Crimson Alliance: everything from upgrading the Keep and admitting new travelers or NPCs, to spending faction money or expelling unruly faction members. Abby and I jointly elevated our other three officers to the rank of lieutenant commander, giving them full access to the Keep, authority over all lesser faction members, and limited power to act on the guild’s behalf.
Next, we set into a long conversation about the Keep’s upgrades—Otto and Amara seemed to heavily favor the notion of investing all of our points into defensive features or billeting for fighters. They wanted the walls fixed, the guard towers up and operational, the moat stocked with deadly beasts, the main gates fortified, and the barracks reconstructed ASAP, just to name a few. Cutter, by contrast, wanted to focus on the creature comforts: lavish housing quarters, restoring the luxurious subterranean hot spring and bathhouse, and upgrading the kitchen.
At first, I was inclined to agree wholeheartedly with Amara and Otto—after all, defenses seemed to be the most practical step—but Cutter actually made some pretty decent points. Mainly, we didn’t have enough points to make this place battle ready, not for at least a couple of weeks, so if Carrera decided to attack, we’d be hard-pressed to stop him. And, on top of that, we needed to live here in the meantime, and we couldn’t very well sleep in rubble and cobwebs. After a spirited conversation—with occasional threats of bodily harm—Abby and I finally settled somewhere in the middle.
We’d started out with 17,000 points in reserve, but the Command Center had dropped us down to 16,300. At this point, the outer wall was far too big to restore to operational capacity, but we restored the inner wall surrounding the Keep itself, which was still a whopping two and a half miles—6,600 points down the drain—then restored the four inner guard towers, at 700 a pop. Then, we spent another 1,800 on ten Giant Moat Leeches to guard the Keep’s outer perimeter. Total, our defenses left us at 5,100 points, which felt like next to nothing.
There were just so many other things we needed: an armory, a training grounds, additional guards, a Faction Vault. The list felt endless and overwhelming. But there was nothing we could do about that.
With our few remaining points, we opted for a few features that would make the place livable.
Abby and I splurged and picked a joint Master Suite, sporting its own connecting bath, which set us back 950 points. A lot of points, but in the grand scheme of things, I was sure it’d be worth every metaphorical penny. Then, at the urging of the chief, who vehemently insisted we’d soon have more people than we’d know what to do with, we opted for a basic barracks, capable of housing 150 people. Nothing fancy—certainly not the quartet of personal officer quarters Cutter had been lobbying for—but the barracks cost us half of the officer rooms and was far more practical.
We didn’t yet have the staff to justify a kitchen—but with the buffs V.G.O. offered for eating, I felt we shouldn’t overlook that feature, so it got thrown into the pot on principle. We also picked up a Water Well and Reservoir for 350 points—a small price to pay, considering it provided the Keep with safe drinking and bathing water. With our scant 3,400 remaining points, we picked an item that was the perfect mix of convenience and practicality: an external teleport pad in the Keep’s courtyard, which would let faction members and faction guests port directly to and from Yunnam.
The External Port Pad cost us a staggering 2,500 points, but it would save us loads of time in the long run—I mean, I wouldn’t have to spend a half-hour trekking up and down that ridiculous mountain. Totally worth it. Once we got the Keep more fully restored, we’d have to get the Internal Port Pad, which would allow select faction members to instantly port to any location in the Keep at the drop of a hat. So far, so good, but we’d only uncovered the tip of this massive bureaucratic iceberg, and there was still a lot of work to be done. I wiggled in my seat, adjusting and readjusting my position as I settled in for what was shaping up to be a long, long night.
FIFTEEN: Faction Skills
“Obviously, it has to be the Battle-Craft Tree,” Otto said for what felt like the thousandth time. “That’s the only option that makes sense, given our current position and mission objectives.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed at my temples, desperately trying to massage away the headache building in my skull. It was the lack of sleep finally starting to kick in—it also didn’t help that we’d been talking about the stupid Faction Skill Points for well over an hour already. Endlessly circling the drain and getting nowhere fast.
At first, things had gone so well.
Heck, we’d practically breezed through the Faction Guidelines and Contract settings. We decided to set the Loot Tax—which applied to both loot collected while questing as well as all merchant transactions—at a flat rate of ten percent. An easy choice. We opted for a tiered EXP tax, however. All members between levels 1 and 24 paid twelve percent; members between 25 and 49 paid ten; members between 50 and 99, eight; and, finally, members over 100 paid only six. The tier system seemed counterintuitive, but the way we figured it, a lower tax on higher level characters would provide an extra incentive to join the Crimson Alliance.
Yep, everything was going smoothly until we got to the Faction Skills. Who would’ve thought the bureaucratic nitty-gritty would be the easy part?
“Grim Jack,” Otto said again, thumping a fist against the table to get my attention. “I don’t understand why you’re giving this any thoug
ht. The Battle-Craft option is clearly the best, so what are your reservations?”
I paused, fidgeted in my seat, then shrugged uncomfortably.
Sure, Battle-Craft seemed to offer the most obvious, tangible benefits to everyone in the group: Battle Prowess added additional attack damage, and Disciple’s Mind increased combat-related EXP earned by all faction members. Fleet-Footed added some significant movement bonuses, while Iron Skin granted increased elemental and physical resistances. There was also a skill called Dread Commander, which boosted troop morale and increased unit movement rate. Basically, if there was a skill or ability related to battle or fighting—including elemental and offensive magic—it could be beefed up through the Battle-Craft tree.
What’s more, everyone wanted the Battle-Craft option. Even Cutter agreed, which had to be one of the signs of the Apocalypse. But it just didn’t sit right with my gut, even if I couldn’t quite explain why.
“With those kinds of enhancements,” Otto steamrolled onward, his eyes distant and hazy as though envisioning the possibilities, “we could truly be a force to be reckoned with.” The others were nodding along.
“No,” I finally said, cutting him off as gently as possible.
“What do you mean, no?” Otto asked, voice flat but somehow chilly at the same time. “As a small force, we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get, and the advantages offered in the Battle-Craft skill tree are too formidable to pass up. End of story.”
I blew my cheeks out and stood, letting out a groan as I stretched sore muscles. I began to pace the room—back and forth, back and forth, my boots making a soft thud, thud, thud as I moved. “I know the Battle-Craft tree looks awesome,” I replied, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes settle on me. “Heck, it is awesome, no question. But I just don’t think it’s for us …” I faltered, trailed off.