“Good choice, so with the trade of your old spear its 95-copper, agreed?” she asked.
“And the maintenance training is included?” I asked. The last thing I needed was for her to charge me for the skill.
“Yes, it’s included.”
“Whetstone and Shield Oil too?” I asked, trying to squeeze her for as much as I could. I had a limited amount of money until I could get to a bank in Root City.
“Greedy little grub,” she complained. “I suppose I could throw it in given you are buying both weapon and shield from me, but no more free handouts, you got me?”
“Deal,” I replied. She removed the spears I didn’t select from the counter and walked them back into the backroom while I looked at the shields next.
Light Tower Shield
A light tower shield in the phalanx class capable of covering more of the body. +7 Armor – Durability 10/10
Light Round Shield
A round shield in the phalanx class offering solid protection. +10 Armor – Durability 15/15
Maasai Shield
An ovoid shield in the phalanx class that is very lightweight. +4 Armor – Block Chance increased 5.00% – Durability 7/7
I eliminated the Maasai shield right away as it was less defense than my current shield, even if it did offer an increase to block chance, it wouldn’t absorb enough damage to be worth it. The tower shield was definitely tempting, but I saw one major problem right away, first being it would limit my field of vision. Having trained with the sergeant as much as I have, I’ve learned a great deal about the need to see your attacker. The round shield was already in the style I was used to working with and it had more defense and durability than the other two.
By the time Mrs. Dunkirk returned I was already experimenting with my new ‘Hasta’ spear and the ‘Light Round Shield’.
“So, picked the shield you wanted then?” she asked, gathering up the other two and already walking back.
It just struck me as odd, the woman was being awfully trusting of me not to steal anything, but then I recalled Dogson’s warning about his bathrooms. I could only imagine something similar had been done here to prevent a thief from leaving with anything they had not paid for.
She was quicker to return this time, but she was also carrying a whetstone, rag and a bottle of what I could only assume was the shield oil.
“The shield is 50-copper, minus the 5-copper for scrapping the old shield comes to 45-copper. All told, you owe me 1-silver, 40-copper,” she tallied the final bill.
I happily paid her . . . well not happy, but close enough to happy, plus the improved gear was much needed.
“Okay, now, I am going to use your old weapon and shield to teach you, as I do not you want to start losing durability on your new toys so soon,” she explained, but before she could start, I had to stop her.
“What do you mean, lose durability?” I asked.
“You are not a smith of any sort so every time you do maintenance on your equipment you will reduce your piece of equipment’s overall durability. As a beginner, at most, you will only be able to restore 1-2 points of durability at a time. For example, your old spear here. If you perform maintenance on it, you might bring it up to three durability points from its current durability of one. But, the maximum durability is almost guaranteed to drop two points from eight to six. Obviously, this will improve as your skill improves, but until you improve, you will cause permanent harm to the equipment. Understand?”
“Yeah, I think I get it,” I replied. Thankfully this was all low-level gear, so it didn’t much matter how much I damaged it in the long run as eventually, I will replace it with better and better gear.
“Now, a professional smith like my husband or even an engineer like myself can repair any equipment brought to us if it is within our specialty. So, for my husband, anything with metal, save guns, which is my specialty. Any questions before I get down to finally teaching you?”
“No ma’am,” I replied. For the next hour Mrs. Dunkirk, who I learned during the training was named Giggle-Ana, drilled into me how to use the whetstone for the spear tip until it met with her standards and in the process pretty much destroyed the spear. The next hour had me polishing the old shield until I could see my reflection in the polished surface.
“Not bad,” she finally said. “Now, don’t be too eager to maintain the new equipment you just got. I don’t want you ruining it.”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied, causing her to giggle again. I was beginning to understand why she was named Giggle-Ana too.
“Well, I should see about an early lunch, I have a midday meeting,” I said, preparing to depart when the door opened to an unexpected but pleasant surprise.
“Olaf,” I greeted the friendly mining ogre I’d befriended a few days ago.
“Bye-bye, how are you doing my good man?” he greeted in return.
“Not bad, finally upgraded my spear and shield,” I answered the big man . . . ogre.
“Nice, I’m kind of envious,” he replied, frowning slightly before shooting a glance toward Giggle-Ana.
I glanced back and saw her frowning and glaring at Olaf.
“What’s that about?” I asked, looking back to Olaf. I was shocked by the change in the little gnome’s attitude.
Olaf sighed. “It’s a racial thing.” Then he snorted, “Imagine that, me a white guy in the RL getting racially profiled in a game. Talk about bollocks!”
“I do not need such language in here, you can leave if you’re going to talk that way, ogre,” Giggle-Ana nearly spit.
I was honestly shocked. I hadn’t expected that at all. Especially when Giggle-Ana was so kind and friendly to me. I couldn’t help but intervene. “Giggle-Ana,” I started, trying to sound as disapproving as possible. “Why are you treating my friend so poorly?”
“You are friends? With that . . . that . . . that ogre?” she asked in shock.
“Olaf and his wife Micaela are nice people. They were helpful to me a few days ago,” I chided her.
“But he is an ogre, they kill people, do you not know?” she expounded.
“Some do, but so do some gnomes. I heard a story about some gnome engineer name Whiztinker the Inept the other day, he destroyed an entire town, didn’t he?”
“Well, that is . . . it is not the same. Everyone knows ogres are dumb beasts, they only know how to smash things and kill people,” she protested.
“And has this ogre ever smashed things or killed?” I asked.
“Not that I have seen, but I cannot watch him all the time,” she retorted, but I could see her defenses starting to wane.
“And dumb? Doesn’t he speak to you clearly and articulately?” I challenged her further.
“It is a trick,” she tried to defend.
“Giggle-Ana,” I chided her again. Despite the level difference I couldn’t help but think of her as a spoiled little girl, so I may have treated her as such, but given it seemed to be working, I wasn’t going to change my approach.
She frowned, fighting an internal debate, but I could see she’d need just one more nudge of encouragement.
“Tell you what, I’ll personally vouch for him and his wife, then if they cause any damage or hurt anyone in the village, you can hold me personally responsible, sound fair?”
That seemed to do it. “Fine, but if he or his wife causes even a little trouble, it will be my husband’s boot to your backside,” she threatened.
“Deal!” I replied, turning to face the gobsmacked Olaf. “Stop gawking and get to talking. You’re here for a reason, right?”
Olaf snapped out of his dumbfounded state after a moment, he carefully approached the counter.
“Hello ma’am,” he said politely, giving a small bow of his head to the diminutive woman.
Giggle-Ana took a deep calming breath then gave a quick glance for reassurance, to which I just nodded. Finally, she looked at Olaf and spoke. “What can I do for you?”
“I wish to order two pistols and am
munition, for both,” he replied. “I know they’ll have to be custom made for my size, but I can pay.”
Giggle-Ana studied him for a minute and though I was sure she would never admit it was there, I saw a small spark of excitement in those little eyes.
“No,” she replied firmly. “I cannot and will not make a pistol for you.”
For a moment both Olaf and I were going to protest before she held up a hand stopping me in place.
“A pistol would be little more than a toy for you. You would probably break it the first time you used it. What you need are hand-cannons.”
Suddenly Olaf’s face lit up like it was Christmas and his birthday all rolled up in one. “Thank you!” he said emphatically, the smile on his face threatened to split his head open right there.
“It will not be cheap mind you, and the ammo will cost too, but it should do you fine,” she explained.
“I’ll pay it, whatever it costs,” he replied excitedly.
“1-gold each and another 8-gold for 200 rounds of ammo,” she stated.
That sounded stupid expensive to me, but I saw Olaf happily drop the 10-gold onto the countertop without another word, or complaint.
“Okay then, come back in about a week and I’ll have your hand-cannons and ammo ready. Make sure you purchase or have an artillery-pack crafted by then for the ammo,” she instructed, sweeping the gold off the counter.
“Thank you so very much, Mrs. Dunkirk,” said Olaf, once again super grateful.
“Thank Bye-bye,” she said, trying to act highbrow about the whole event.
“Oh, believe me, I will,” said Olaf.
“Now, will there be anything else?” she asked. She still did not appear completely comfortable talking to Olaf but was at least making an effort.
Olaf hesitated a moment.
“Just ask,” she said, seeing him hesitate. As much as she wanted him out of the shop, she wasn’t going to kick out someone paying so well. Apparently, even she could be bought.
“I want to learn Engineering,” he said in a rush.
Here Giggle-Ana growled a little, she clearly did not like his request. I could hear her grumbling to herself before taking a few more deep and calming breaths before she spoke again.
“I do not want to teach you, especially not an ogre. However, I am required to take on students willing to pay my fee. So, I will warn you now, I am going to gouge you so hard, you will be poor for the rest of your life. Are you sure you still want to learn from me?”
Olaf swallowed nervously before nodding the affirmative.
“Fine, 50-gold, and you need a minimum 20-Intellect and 20-Charisma though the last part is just, so you are not so ugly to look at all the time.”
“Holy!” I couldn’t help but exclaim. That price was ridiculous. I could already picture Micaela strangling Olaf for doing something so stupid. And yet, Olaf looked completely relieved.
As if the price wasn’t shocking enough, I could hardly believe what I was seeing when Olaf easily put another 50-gold on the counter, not even flinching. I was sure my mouth was hanging open in shock at this point.
“Fine, come back when your Intellect and Charisma are where I told you I required them,” said Giggle-Ana, sweeping the gold from the counter. “Unless you need something else, please depart. Oh, and Olaf, be sure you are bathed and deodorized next time you enter this shop, or I will send you away for at least 24-hours.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, bowing his head again.
“My mother would be turning in her grave if she found out I was teaching an ogre, of all things,” grumbled Giggle-Ana as she retreated to the backroom of the shop.
“So . . .” I started, not sure what to say.
“Lunch?” asked Olaf.
“Yeah, sounds good,” I replied.
“Great, just have to find the wife. Who knows where she got off to?” he wondered.
I couldn’t believe neither of us wasn’t going to say anything about what just happened. It was eating at me the entire walk down the street where we met Micaela coming out of Ned’s with her usual pixyish grin on her face. How an ogre could look pixyish I don’t know, but Micaela pulled it off.
“Bye-bye!” shouted the woman spotting me with Olaf.
“Hey Mic,” I greeted her in return.
“I was just telling Olaf we should see about getting dinner with you again soon.” She was quick to speak. “We had such fun last time plus I got a few points of Charisma which was totally cricket.”
“We’re treating Bye-bye to lunch at the Dog House Inn,” said Olaf, a content and happy smile firmly planted on his face. I was getting the feeling nothing could bring him low at this point.
“Great,” said Mic, one of her giant hands patting me on the back, almost knocking me to the ground in the process.
The walk back to the Inn was mostly quiet except for Micaela jabbering a mile a minute, filling me in on all kinds of gossip from the mine, not that I had any idea who she was talking about, but it was entertaining all the same.
Dogson happily served us each a beer and a sandwich with chips, though Olaf and Micaela’s dishes were twice the size of mine.
We ate in near silence, Micaela finally seemed to have picked up on the odd mood Olaf was in. I couldn’t tell if he was just preparing for the storm or if he was trying to keep the suspense for his own entertainment. Maybe both.
Still, I didn’t crack, just kept eating my meal. Having a second beer which I pretty much moved to just nursing it as I still had a meeting to attend in a little bit.
I should have known it would be Micaela would crack first. “Okay, what in the name of LJ is going on? What happened? Did the little witch finally agree to sell you a weapon?”
“I got a class offer,” he finally said.
“You did?” asked Micaela, the surprise was written all over her face. “I thought you were going to hold out for artillery?”
“I did,” he replied, his already large smile grew even more.
“What?” she shouted. “How?”
“So, I went back to visit Mrs. Dunkirk as I have every day since the first day we logged in,” he began.
“What was different this time?” asked Micaela.
Olaf simply pointed at me. “This beautiful man was there.”
“You’re not my type Olaf, but thank you for the compliment,” I replied, trying to take the focus off of myself. I was never the center of attention kind of guy.
“What did Bye-bye do?” asked Micaela, literally starting to bounce in her seat with excitement.
What followed was the story from his perspective in which he witnessed me bring Mrs. Dunkirk low and guilted her into letting him shop there. Then he started talking about his request for the pistols and her refusal.
“That little witch!” shouted Micaela, her face turning red with anger.
“Calm down, let me finish the story,” Olaf chided her.
“Hey, just wondering, why didn’t you select a gun during character creation?” I interrupted.
“It’s because of our account type. Financers have to work off our pods, so we get a gathering tool to start with, but no weapons. It’s also how we ended up as Ogres. There were only two choices for financers in the race category. Ogre miners and Sprite herbalists. Sprites get more choices once they’ve paid off their pods for classes, but herbs are super inexpensive right now. I imagine in a year or two it’ll reverse but for now, the ore is worth three to four times as much. Anyway, most financers go with the ogre and then as soon as they pay off their pod, they cancel their account for a month which wipes them from the system. Then they can sign up again and start any toon they want,” he explained.
“So, there is a way to change classes?” I asked, making sure I understood him correctly.
“Only on the financers account,” replied Olaf. “It’s some legal loophole. Seed Inc fought it tooth and nail, but because of one little miss in the financing contract, they are stuck. Not that it matters. I actually
prefer my ogre. Especially now that I have my preferred Class.”
“Right, so continue the story before I go squash the little witch,” said Micaela.
I was sure, if Olaf didn’t have a viselike grip on his wife’s hand, she’d have already charged back down the street to attack the gnome.
Olaf continued on to the part where she refused then stalled any protest by saying he needed hand-cannons which prompted the artillery class.
That got us both questioning.
“That was only what the forum had said,” defended Olaf. “I’m betting people only ever enslaved the work crews, which triggered the class and only then because of the strength requirement for a regular cannon. I’m starting to think most of these players are complete idiots.”
“So truthfully, all you need is the hand-cannon to trigger the class?” I asked.
“Well that and 75 strength, which is the minimum required to carry them. I’ll have to up my strength more still to carry the ammo plus other gear, but at least I can start working on my ‘One-Handed Artillery’ skill. Man, I can’t tell you how excited I am. I’m just dreading her other conditions?” the ogre griped.
“What conditions?” asked Micaela. “And conditions for what?”
“So, I also got her to agree to teach me Engineering. It cost 50-gold, but we knew it would be at least that much anyway. It’s the 20-Intellect and 20-Charisma I’m worried about.”
“Seriously, it only cost you 50?” asked Micaela, her face looked shocked.
“Okay, maybe I’m crazy here, but 50-gold sounds like a whole lot of money to learn a profession, and I thought you still had to pay off your loan for the Seedpods?” I interjected, my confusion reaching its limit. If my math was right and it usually was, 50-gold converted to about £2,500.00
“As for the gold, well, remember that geode Olaf mentioned finding? Well, the gems sold. The rare gem made us almost a 5,000-gold alone, so we’re in good financial shape right now. As for the other part, we’re ogres, we get huge charisma penalties,” answered Micaela. “As a result, we usually get price gouged everywhere we go, if we’re even let in the door. Plus, we get a racial penalty on charisma, half of normal so the citizens, almost by default, hate us,” Micaela explained.
The Curse of Hurlig Ridge_World Tree Online_1st Dive Page 16