by James Hunter
Abby stared at me, her lips drawn into a firm line. She looked as conflicted as I felt.
She stood, the chair squeaking softly in relief, circled the table, and sat down next to me. She reached over and took my hand in hers, our fingers intertwining. “I know this is tough. You didn’t ask for this. Neither did I. None of us did, Jack. But I just want you to know, I’m proud of you. And, for the record, I trust you. So if you think Merchant-Craft is the way to go, then I’ll get behind you. Let’s give it a look.” She waved her free hand over the giant emerald in the center of the table.
The crystal flared to brilliant life, bleeding tendrils of jade into the air, which unfurled and morphed until a hazy interface screen hung suspended for everyone to see:
This wasn’t our first time studying the skill tree, but this time, we examined it under a new light: given our circumstances, what were the most likely skills to foster innovation, attract new talent, and keep us alive? After what felt like a lifetime of strenuous back and forth, we toggled over to the State-Craft skill tree to see if there were any new features we needed to pick up—after all, the Recruitment and Black Market skills had already saved our underdog faction more than a few times:
Another half hour passed, filled with even more vigorous debate.
The chief kept mostly silent, leaving the faction business to us and only offering input when prompted, but Anton and Abby had lots and lots and lots to say. Anton advocated heavily for the merchant-oriented skills—Barter, Investor, Entrepreneur, Caravan, and Fence—which, in his defense, basically amounted to a license to print great gobs of money. Abby, the pragmatist she was, argued for a more balanced mix of skills with a heavy focus on crafting. Finally, we settled on five abilities which seemed like they’d give us an edge over Osmark and his cronies:
<<<>>>
Faction Ability: Salvage
Eldgard is full of crafted items—from bridges and buildings to weapons and armor—which can be built, earned, and bought. The usefulness of those items, however, is often up for debate. But no longer. With the Salvage ability, faction members can destroy items and salvage them for parts, whether that be scrap iron, for weapons and armor, or quarried rock, useful for constructing roads and building homes. Even more important, salvaging complex crafted goods allows players to learn how those items are made …
Faction Ability Type/Level: Passive / Max Level
Cost: N/A
Effect 1: Destroy any player-controlled item and receive 60% of the original building material.
Effect 2: Destroying a complex crafted item gives the player a 35% chance of discovering how the item was built or enchanted—allowing the crafter to reproduce the item.
Restriction: Salvage doesn’t have any effect on potions.
<<<>>>
Faction Ability: Alchemic Wonder
Alchemists have the power of creation at their fingertips: transmuting common substances into potions, poisons, and weapons which can significantly shift the tide of any engagement. With the Alchemic Wonder skill, all Alchemic concoctions become more powerful, and ingredients can be combined in new and exciting ways. Additionally, Alchemists can now manufacture potions while in the field and utilize a new subspecialty, Explosive Catalyst.
Faction Ability Type/Level: Passive / Max Level
Cost: N/A
Effect 1: Healing potions, skill tonics, and poisons are 15% more potent.
Effect 2: Utilize the Splice ability to combine items and ingredients in unconventional and, often, unpredictable ways.
Effect 3: Alchemic concoctions can now be created without an alchemy lab; all alchemic potions created in the field are 25% weaker.
Effect 4: Access to the subspecialty Explosive Catalyst for all players with the Alchemist class.
<<<>>>
Faction Ability: Weapon-Smith
Eldgard is a harsh unforgiving land filled with a myriad of deadly creatures and natural threats, not to mention devious travelers and citizens looking to exploit the weak and defenseless. Survival in Eldgard is often dependent on the edge of a sword, the string of a bow, or the crushing head of a mace—and a fighter is only as good as the weapon they wield. With the Weapon-Smith skill, crafters can drastically improve weapons of all types while simultaneously lowering the cost of production.
Faction Ability Type/Level: Passive / Max Level
Cost: N/A
Effect 1: Improve weapon durability and damage by 20%.
Effect 2: Production costs for all weapon-related crafting is decreased by 10%.
Effect 3: Alter existing weapons into faction-specific items; faction items offer (1) additional enchanted property slot, but are usable only by current faction members.
Effect 4: Modify and upgrade existing weapons using ultra-rare crafting items, such as Argentum Dust, Arcane Nightshade, Essence of Magma, and Dragon Scales.
<<<>>>
Faction Ability: Armor-Smith
Eldgard is a harsh unforgiving land filled with a myriad of deadly creatures and natural threats, not to mention devious travelers and citizens looking to exploit the weak and defenseless. Survival in Eldgard is often dependent on the strength of a breastplate, the firmness of a shield, or the durability of a helm—and a warrior is only as safe as the armor they wear. With the Armor-Smith skill, crafters can drastically improve armor of all types while simultaneously lowering the cost of production.
Faction Ability Type/Level: Passive / Max Level
Cost: N/A
Effect 1: Improve armor durability and base defense by 20%.
Effect 2: Production cost for all armor-related crafting is decreased by 10%.
Effect 3: Alter existing armor into faction-specific items; faction items offer (1) additional enchanted property slot, but are usable only by current faction members.
Effect 4: Modify and upgrade existing armor using ultra-rare crafting items, such as Argentum Dust, Arcane Nightshade, Essence of Magma, and Dragon Scales.
<<<>>>
Since I was a non-crafter, none of those skills looked especially promising for my character, but I could just envision all of the cool new things we might be able to achieve as a group. The ability to break down trash loot and form it into something worthwhile, had some serious appeal, and the weapon and armor smith abilities sounded beneficial to our frontline fighters. And then there was the Alchemic Wonder ability … We’d attracted lots of Alchemists over the past few weeks, but our secret weapon was Vlad, the ultra-rare Alchemic Weaponeer. His inventions were already game-changing, but what would he be able to accomplish with these new abilities?
The possibilities left me excited and anxious all at once.
Last, we picked up one skill from the State-Craft tree:
<<<>>>
Faction Ability: Savvy Bureaucrat
Warriors fight the battles, clerics and priests heal the wounds, alchemists brew potions, crafters build the goods, and merchants supply them, but it is the bureaucrat who oversees it all. The Savvy Bureaucrat, a peerless politician and administrative cog, keeps the war machine running, the city well stocked, and the rule of law maintained, holding everything together through hard work, political intrigue, and sheer force of will.
Faction Ability Type/Level: Passive / Max Level
Cost: None
Effect 1: Faction-EXP level requirements are reduced by 10%.
Effect 2: Due to bureaucratic efficiency, the faction tax—money and experience currently levied on faction members—is increased by 8%.
Effect 3: Faction officers can access a private communications channel through the Faction Tab interface, allowing them to communicate in real time, even over great distances. Faction officers can also send group PMs and can post universal notices for all faction members.
<<<>>>
With that all done, I checked the time. Dear God.
Somehow, things had gotten away from us—it was already creeping up on 9:30, and we still had a crazy amount of work yet to do. “Hold on a second,” I said
to everyone, then stifled a yawn with a fist. I toggled over to the Keep interface and ordered a cup of Western Brew from the kitchen below, which was now manned and fully operational. A small miracle I was constantly thankful for. “Okay,” I said, focusing on Abby and Anton as I dismissed the menu with a lazy flick of my hand. “Now, for the nitty-gritty … we still need to decide what to do about Osmark.”
A tense, uneasy silence settled over us. We needed to talk about this, but it was obvious no one wanted to. It was one thing to complain about Osmark and grumble about the awful skirmishes, but it was another thing entirely to come up with a workable plan to oppose him.
“I think I have a solution or at least a direction for us to move in,” the chief said, breaking the quiet. “A word of warning, though. Following this course could be”—he faltered, eyes downcast as he picked needlessly at his robes—“dangerous. That crown you wear,” he said, waving toward my helm, a rough crown composed of chunks of polished jade and spikes of bone, “Dokkalfar legends speak of it. Though I’ve never seen it in the flesh, I am sure it is the Crown of the Jade Lord, yes?”
I nodded.
I’d acquired the crown as a loot drop from Gentleman Georgie, the former head of the Rowanheath Thieves’ Guild, who’d been corrupted by one of the black priests of Serth-Rog. The item itself was a phenomenal find and part of a rare armor set tailor-made for Dark Templars, and it came with a unique quest chain. According to my quest log, I was supposed to take the crown to the Dark Conclave and talk to them about some mysterious event known as “the Downfall.” With everything that’d happened over the past week, however, I hadn’t had the time.
“May I see it?” Chief Kolle asked, an uncharacteristic tremble to his words.
I frowned, confused, but slipped it from my head and handed it over with a shrug. The chief sat and stared at the crown for a long spell, running reverent fingers over the elegant metalwork and the yellowed bone, lingering on the pieces of jade. A single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. An older Wode woman—her face worn and tired, her hair streaked heavily with silver—slipped into the room a moment later, giving me a much-needed distraction. The woman carried a heavy tray loaded down with a pot of steaming coffee and several porcelain mugs.
Quickly, she set about pouring drinks for everyone present.
I passed her a fat silver coin as a tip before she ghosted away, then turned to my cup, lifting it to my nose and taking a deep whiff of the rich aroma. The tension in my shoulders melted away in anticipation as I took that first sip, savoring the nutty, slightly bitter flavor. When I’d transitioned to VGO, I’d thought for sure coffee was one of those things I was giving up for good, and I was so incredibly happy to be wrong—even if the stuff did cost an arm and a leg to import. A notification screen popped up a second later:
<<<>>>
Buffs Added
Western Brew: Restore 150 HP over 30 seconds. Increase Health Regen by 18%; duration, 30 minutes.
Caffeinated: Base Intelligence increased by (5) points; duration, 30 minutes. Base Vitality increased by (3) points; duration, 30 minutes. Base Strength increased by (3) points; duration, 30 minutes.
Remember, with enough good coffee, all things are possible.
<<<>>>
I smiled and dismissed the notice with a thought. When I glanced back up, the chief was holding the crown out to me; the deep creases of his weather-beaten face were somehow content and sad all at once. “It is truly a wonder to see,” he said as I accepted the helm and slipped it back on. “I didn’t want to broach the subject until you were ready, Grim Jack, but the time is right, I think.”
“The time for what, exactly?” Abby asked, stealing a curious sidelong glance at the crown before taking a long sip from her cup.
“Time for Jack to meet with the Shadow Conclave and embark on the greatest quest of his life: a quest to unify the Storme Marshes and resurrect the Nangkri Dynasty. It is time for him to once again accomplish the impossible …” He faltered as he searched our faces, noting the dark purple bags under my eyes. “But, the Nangkri Dynasty has waited five hundred years. I think, perhaps, it will wait one more day. Go and sleep, all of you. Get your rest—you’ll need it to face the trials in store for us …”
FOUR: Departure
I startled awake, eyes shooting open as I blinked against the sparse firelight coming from the wall-mounted candelabras. My heart thudded away, sweat dotted my forehead, and confusion raced through me as I tried to figure out where I was and how I’d gotten there. I thrust out a hand, groping at an oversized mattress and a set of silky soft sheets much nicer than anything I’d ever had IRL. I rolled onto my side and caught the shape of a body curled up not far away; a bob of brown hair and a set of bare shoulders poked out from the tangle of sheets and blankets.
Abby, I finally remembered as the shape of her body jarred me back into reality.
Hard to forget that.
We’d come back late, exhausted out of our minds, but restless. Anxious all the way down to our toes. And that restlessness had led to sleeplessness, which, in turn, had led to some light conversation. We talked food first: she reminisced about the best pizza place in the Valley—a little mom and pop place called Peppino’s—and I couldn’t help but remember the sub shop, Richie’s, off of El Cajon and Alabama. Just small things. Things we were homesick for. Books. Movies. Games. Places. Relatives.
Then, late in the night—during an idle chat about pie of all things—her mouth was suddenly on mine, her hands running through my hair, our bodies pressed together, our limbs tangled. Watching her sleep, I couldn’t help but smile. Of all the things that’d happened since coming to VGO, she was definitely the best part.
Pretty soon, we’d be clashing head-to-head with Osmark, going to war, but I couldn’t forget that all of this—my second chance at life and my second chance with Abby—was all thanks to him. I pushed the uncomfortable thought away and instead considered running a hand across her cheek. I resisted the urge, though, not wanting to wake her. Eventually, I sighed, pulled up my interface with a lazy yawn, and checked the time. 6:15 AM. Awfully early, but I had a full day ahead of me, so I reluctantly threw back the covers and slipped my legs over the edge of the plush mattress.
Abby stirred despite my best efforts, rolling over as her arms stretched and she blinked sleepily against the light. “Jack,” she murmured, “what time is it?”
“Just after six,” I replied, stifling another yawn.
She groaned, rolled over, and pulled the blanket up over her head. “No,” she protested, voice muted by the covers. “I don’t want it to be morning. A few more hours.”
“Does that mean you’ve decided to come with me today?” I asked, a playful edge to my words, though I already knew she was going to say no.
She groaned, rolled onto her back, and flipped back the blanket, glowering at me. “Har-har, Jack. I’d love to come with you, but if we both go gallivanting off on some wonky quest, who’s gonna run the faction, huh? This place would implode without one of us behind the wheel—though I’m going on the record right now. Next time there’s a crazy adventure or an awesome dungeon dive, I say you should have to stay behind and be the adult while I go out, kill the monsters, and backstroke through piles of loot and heaps of gold.”
I snorted and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You know that’s not how it ever happens. I vaguely recall being tied up by a giant spider, then eaten. Sucked dry like a juice box. Horrible is the understatement of the century. Believe me, adventuring isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“You say that now,” she growled, “but that’s only because you haven’t been stuck doing all the admin work for the faction. Stacks of paperwork a mile deep is worse than the Spider Queen.”
“Fair enough,” I said with a shrug, raising my hands in surrender. “So, are you at least going to get up with me? We could shower together,” I said casually.
She dived back under the covers, slipped onto her side, and curled into a bal
l. “Not on your life. The one upside to admin is I don’t have to be in the Command Center until eight. But good luck, Jack. Call me over the new chat feature once things get going.”
“Of course,” I replied, slipping from the bed, my feet touching down on one of the thick gray carpets littering the cold stone floors. I glanced around, still shocked by all the polished granite, gleaming chrome, and fancy art; my Master Suite in the Darkshard Keep looked like it belonged in an upscale New York penthouse. Somehow, though, it actually belonged to little ol’ me. I shook my head in disbelief and padded toward the bathroom, which boasted loads of stylish gray tile, glossy mirrors, a huge walk-in shower, and a tub large enough to qualify as a pool.
I stripped down and opted for a hot, steamy shower to clear my sleep-addled brain. The water, nearly scorching, washed away any lingering weariness and worked out the tension in my still-sore muscles, leaving me refreshed and sporting a new buff:
<<<>>>
Buffs Added
Well-Groomed: Restore 200 HP over 30 seconds. Goods and services cost 5% less and Merchant-Craft skills are increased by (1) level; duration, (4) hours.
<<<>>>
By the time I killed the water, the mirrors had fogged over and Abby was back asleep, snoring softly, her chest rhythmically rising and falling. I geared up and silently slipped from the room, using my Stealth ability to ensure I didn’t wake Abby a second time. The Keep’s halls were empty as I made my way down to the courtyard; it seemed folks around here were night owls instead of early risers. The kitchen staff, however, was up and already hard at work.I snagged a sweet roll in passing—the bread warm and soft, the icing sweet and creamy—and a cup of Western Brew, before hopping a ride via the stone port pad into Yunnam proper.
The town was a bit livelier than the Keep; the gunmetal-skinned Murk Elf residents were already up and about their business for the day. Folks were busy making and selling food—huge pots of rice boiled over low fires, and meat roasted on wooden spits—while crafters dutifully went about their business. Seamstresses worked away in the small shops set up below their stilted houses, and smiths worked at forges, the clang of steel ringing out in the early morning air. A handful of hawkers and peddlers—mostly Outlanders, new to Yunnam, brought in by the flood of new faction members—cried their wares at passersby: weapons, food, health potions, ingredients. Anything. Everything.