by G. R. Cooper
"My dear," he began as he settled onto the dirt, "we seem to have come into possession of a rather nice piece of hardware and I was wondering if I could bother you to help me identify it." He laid an ornate longsword across her crossed knees.
Wulfgar saw, in the corner of his eyes, the orc stiffen.
Lauren ran her hands down the blade, her practiced eye appraising it. She whistled softly.
"It's named," she said almost reverently. She looked back up, her eyes moving over the orc, "I won't try to pronounce the name."
The orc said something under his breath, it sounded to Wulfgar like "Grishthnact".
"Is that good?" asked Wulfgar, "Named like Shepherd's Bite?"
She nodded, "Player made weapons that can be named are usually of at least uncommon quality. Named weapons found as loot," she continued smiling, "are at least rare."
"So this is a rare sword?" asked Snorri.
She shook her head, and looked back to the warrior.
"Epic?"
She smiled, but waved down Snorri's increasing excitement.
"That's the good news," she said. "The bad news, however," she frowned as she ran a finger down to beautiful blade, "are the attributes." She raised one eyebrow, "Plus ten to-hit, double damage, Alacrity," she looked up at Wulfgar, "which greatly reduces the Stamina cost per swing,"
Snorri whistled, "Those are awesome. Either Alacrity or double damage would make it a rare."
"It's a human slayer," concluded Lauren.
"Shit," grunted Snorri.
"What?" asked Wulfgar.
"Slayer weapons double the damage against type, but that type can't use them. For us," Lauren shrugged, "it's just a generic longsword. No bonus. For him," she nodded toward the orc, "it's a human killing machine."
Wulfgar nodded, realizing the deadliness of the weapon. Not only did it have a built in double damage - for any wielder that wasn't human - it doubled that damage again against humans. Quad damage.
"How much could we sell it for?" asked Rydra. Wulfgar heard a low growl from the orc.
"To a human collector?" shrugged Lauren, "it might be worth a bit." She shrugged again, "Assuming we could find one."
Wulfgar turned to the orc.
"What's it worth to you?"
The orc shrugged.
"Well," continued Wulfgar, "if it's not worth anything to you, we can take it off the table. Remove it from the negotiations. We'll just have to find something else you want."
"You can't seriously be thinking of giving this sword back to him," protested Snorri. "He could single hit kill us with that thing."
Wulfgar shot the Viking a look, to silence the man, but he was glad that he'd brought up not only the possibility that the orc could get the blade back, but voiced his disagreement to the idea. Both would give Wulfgar leverage in the coming talk.
"What we want," said Wulfgar interrupting any further protest, "is for your people to stop raiding humans."
The orc nodded, understanding where Wulfgar was going.
"You give back sword," it growled, having difficulty forming the human words, "and my clan no raid humans for one year."
Wulfgar shook his head.
"We keep the sword, and if you don't raid any villages for five years, you come back and we'll give you the sword."
The orc waved off the human's opening bid.
"You give back sword, we no raid for two years."
"We keep sword, and no raids for four years."
"You give sword, no raid for four years."
"We give sword, no raid for eight years."
"Six years."
"Seven."
The orc nodded.
"You have gained in reputation with the Orc. They now respect you."
"Alignment changed. You are now True Neutral."
Wulfgar sat back and looked over his friend's faces. They looked incredulous. He turned his head back as the orc stood. Tim took a step forward but Wulfgar waved him back. The orc looked down at Lauren who stood and presented the sword hilt-first. The orc nodded once and took the sword from the blacksmith. He stretched his arm back over his head and sheathed the blade, nodded again and stepped into the darkness, walking into the night.
"I have the feeling," said Rydra lightly, "that in seven years and one day, that orc is going to come looking for you Wulfgar."
Wulfgar smiled and leaned back on his hands. He looked up into the stars.
"That's not what worries me," he said.
"You're worried that you're trusting a fucking orc to keep its word," said Snorri.
Wulfgar shook his head.
"Not even that. I really don't care if he keeps his word or not. This was just a test. A test of the system. We'd been given really vague victory conditions for this quest."
He looked back through his friends faces. Lauren nodded. She smiled, encouraging him to continue. He looked back up into the stars.
"We were told to investigate why this outpost had gone silent. We did. We cleared out the orcs and we have our answer."
He thought for a moment, "According to the description, all we really had to do was peek into the windows, learn about the orcs and understand that they were the reason."
"OK, so?" asked Snorri. "We did that. Quest complete! Hurray! What's the problem?" He yawned.
"The problem," responded Wulfgar, "and what's worrying me, is if we've completed the quest, which I agree that we have," he looked back down to his friends.
"Why haven't we received the quest completion message?"
"Maybe just scoping out the tower wasn't enough," said Snorri stretching in the morning light. The humans were all at the top of the tower, looking eastward into the morning sun that rose over the line of mountains that shaded, invisible in the distance, Edonis and their quest source. They'd climbed the tower after breaking camp in order to scope out a higher perch and gain a better understanding of their surroundings.
"Maybe this wasn't the right tower?" suggested Lauren.
Wulfgar shook his head. He knew, felt to his bones, that the quest had been completed. The only part that felt missing was the message - the final completion notice. Closure.
"Maybe the orcs weren't the original reason that the outpost stopped communicating," said Rydra, "maybe they were just some kind of wandering monsters that happened to be in the tower once we got here."
Wulfgar didn't think that was the case, but he couldn't articulate why, so he just nodded.
"Maybe," he said "Maybe. If so, what do we do now?"
"Keep looking," said Snorri simply. He turned and walked to the westward side of the tower. His friends followed him. They looked, for the first time, deeply into and through the mountain pass the little tower centered.
To the west, the slope leveled and once through the steep towers of rock that created the pass, the land drifted into a lazy, beautiful alpine valley; a bowl that lay placidly in a circle of high mountain and stretched into the far distance. Kilometers away, hazy in the freshening light, they could just make out another tower, this one surrounded by smaller buildings.
Wulfgar looked down and saw Tim standing like a stone surrounded by their horses, waiting for them to return.
"We might as well keep looking," he said, "unless anyone else can think of a reason why not. And we might as well start looking there," he pointed to the village in the distance. He looked back to his friends, "Unless anyone can think of a reason why not," he repeated. He looked back into the distance, not expecting a response. After a moment of silence, he nodded and pushed away from the wall and began climbing down the tower's stone stairs.
As he passed through the middle floor, he glanced over the corpses of the orcs that he and Rydra had killed the night before. The pair had been rifled in Rydra's search for loot, but otherwise looked undisturbed. There was nothing special about them, nothing any gamer hadn't seen a million times before.
Nothing about them implied anything about what they had been doing here, but Wulfgar was sure - as sur
e as he knew whether or not he was hungry or thirsty - that they were the reason that he'd been sent to this tower and that the quest had been completed.
Chapter 6
"Why didn't Tim the Enchanter kill us when he had the chance?" whispered Rydra as he and Wulfgar approached the edge of the village. It wasn't late, but darkness had fallen and the townsfolk were either shutting in for the night or making their way to the inn. The pair of adventurers had left their friends a few hundred meters back in a small hollow in order to scout out any possible dangers. They had walked, not especially warily, through the last part of the valley before reaching a small gurgling stream that bordered the eastern verges. They could just make out the shape and wood grinding sound of a small watermill just to the north on the other side of the burbling water.
"What?" asked Wulfgar.
"When we were in his village, when I had my blade to his throat, he didn't seem all that concerned with death. He would just res in the church behind him."
"Yeah?"
"So why didn't he kill us when he had the chance? All that seemed to prevent him were the guards. And all they threatened him with was death."
"Hmmm, I see your point. It would have been much worse for us to have to res back in Edonis than for them to res in the village. Sacrificing themselves to kill us should have been a pretty fair trade."
The pair began to move through the water, side by side, and up the other bank of the stream, behind what smelled like a leatherworker's hut. They walked forward until they were fully within the shadow of the building and looked at each other.
"If I ever run into the dickhead again," smiled Wulfgar, "I'll be sure to ask him."
Rydra smiled, "Which way now? To the inn?"
Wulfgar nodded and followed the little man around the side of the tanner's hut, happy to leave the uric smell behind. They looked left and right as they rounded into the little square that centered the village. It was peaceful, idyllic. There's was nothing that told, outwardly, of any danger that awaited them, but by mutual understanding they weren't going to take their safety for granted.
Centered within the square was a small fountain that likely provided drinking water for the town. A pair of grizzled looking men walked past it on the other side, but neither seemed to notice the pair of players still hidden in the shadows. The old men silently made their way into and through the heavy wooden door of the inn, the sibilant sounds of conversation from within was cut off by the heavy slam of the door. A gentle increase in the rumble from within the tavern momentarily gave indication to the greeting that the newcomers received.
Wulfgar took a moment to scan around the rest of the square. The inn was by far the largest of the buildings - which all seemed to be Tudor-like in their beamed and whitewashed exteriors - except for the tower that anchored the eastern end. It was of a type with the one that they'd raided in the pass, but larger. It looked to be four rather than three storeys, and the base was squared and larger than the keep that rose from it. No lights shone from the windows.
Most of the rest of the buildings around the square gave little indication of their purpose except for a little stone church that balanced the keep on the other side of the group of wooden structures.
Wulfgar followed as Rydra moved toward the inn. They walked into the shadow of a stable the butted near the tavern and entered into a small alleyway that separated the two. A window into the inn was a few meters down the alley, near a stone chimney that jutted out from the tavern wall. The pair took up either side of the open window and peeked within.
The smell of smoke and unwashed bodies greeted the spies as they looked through the crowd. There was nothing out of the ordinary to note - it seemed like any pub crowd in any small town in rural England. Small groups of people huddled and spoke, drinking frothy beers and smoking pipes. Occasional bursts of laughter punctuated the low hum of continual conversation.
Rydra attracted Wulfgar's attention and pointedly looked into the space cut off from Wulfgar's view. He moved to join the thief on the other side of the window and saw, seated around a larger table near the door, three humans. They were young, good looking and wearing clothes that looked of much higher quality than the rest. They also wore weapons.
Players.
Their conversation seemed much more intense and focused than the rest. They were obviously upset about something, but were not arguing. Whatever was bothering them didn't seem to be an immediate threat. None wore armor and all weapons were sheathed, but they weren't happy about something.
Rydra whispered in his ear, "There doesn't seem to be any danger in this town."
Wulfgar shrugged. The place just didn't have an evil vibe. He looked down to his friend.
"We might as well go get the others and see how the beer here is."
Conversation within the inn stopped as Wulfgar entered. They hadn't encountered any guards as the entire group of players had brought their horses down a dusty trail and over a small wooden bridge that crossed the stream. Nothing new had given them any impression that they hadn't already acquired on their reconnaissance - the town was sleepy and harmless to all outward appearance.
As he made his way into the room, he heard a low grumble and an angry mutter.
"Highlander."
Aw, shit, not this again.
He assumed that, in this mountain village, his race would be less of an issue, but apparently that wasn't the case. He stopped next to the table that the other group of players had claimed.
"Can I have your attention, please?" he said loudly. The crowd's rumbles lowered and conversations dropped all over the room.
"Thanks!", he said brightly, "I just wanted to introduce myself and my friends." He grinned into the deepening frowns of the locals. One or two drank from their mugs defiantly, as though not wanting to listen to anything that the Highlander had to say. There were several sneers directed in Wulfgar's direction.
"I'm Wulfgar and this is Snorri, Rydra and," he pointed past the thief to the blacksmith, who curtsied, "Lauren. Tim is with us."
"Who's Tim?" asked one of the other players helpfully, smiling up at the newcomers.
A hush fell as Tim ducked his way through the door and stood behind the players. It was impossible for Wulfgar to tell whether there was any room between the top of the troll's head and the ceiling of the tavern. The silence of the room deepened. The wave of hostility vanished, replaced by cold fear.
"He's with us," Wulfgar repeated, "and he's harmless."
"Unless you piss us off," laughed Snorri loudly. Lauren elbowed him. "Just kidding," he added.
"But not really," chuckled one of the players sitting at Lauren's elbow, then, to the group, "Why don't you guys join us?" He and his friends moved into seats further away from the door, opening up four spots, two on either side of the table which Wulfgar and his friends filled.
"Are you a tamer?" asked the player who was the designated speaker, or at least the most out-going of the group. He was looking at Lauren, but addressing the group.
"What he meant to say was, hello Lauren, my name is Corwin," chuckled the player sitting to his left. The player's face was hidden within a cloak whose hood thrust forward, covering their face. The voice from within the hood was female, "And I'm Catcher." A black-gloved hand thrust over the table toward the third member of the group, "and this is Connor." Wulfgar looked to his left, to the still silent member of the trio. He had long auburn hair, square jawed and clad in dark green. He and Wulfgar exchanged smiles before Wulfgar looked back to Corwin. Corwin had dark hair and piercing green eyes. He wore black clothes with a silver sash that sported a shining silver rose.
"Corwin, Catcher and Connor," smiled Wulfgar. "Quite the alliterative band you have here."
"What?" asked Corwin.
"He means all of our names begin with the letter C," laughed Catcher. "And only three fourths of us are in that group. Our friend Galad ruins the perfection of our naming convention."
"And where's Galad?" asked Rydra.
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The trio exchanged looks. Catcher pulled the hood off and dropped it onto her shoulders. She frowned.
"That is a very good question. A very good one."
"When was the last time any of you resurrected?" asked Connor.
Lauren spoke, "Me. Yesterday morning."
The three looked at each other.
"We lost Galad last night. On a quest," said Corwin. "We three popped back up at the church," he thrust his thumb toward the front door and the square beyond, "but Galad was nowhere to be found."
"Maybe he didn't croak," suggested Snorri.
"Possible. But if he lived, he would have been back by now."
"Where was the quest?" asked Lauren.
"Below the keep. Next door," answered Catcher. "And for that matter, I'm pretty sure that Galad died before I did. Or at least, he was mortally wounded before I was killed. He got a face full of poison."
"Why would the three of you rez, but Galad didn't?" asked Rydra.
"As I said," reiterated Catcher, "that's a very good question."
"Did he bind?" asked Wulfgar, "I mean, here in this village."
"I think so," frowned Connor, "I mean, that was the first thing we did when we got here. We all went to the church together. I suppose it's conceivable that he didn't bind, but I can't imagine why not."
"Where was the last place you bound before here?" asked Wulfgar.
"The last village before the frontier."
Wulfgar and his friends exchanged weighted looks.
"Tim's village," said Wulfgar flatly.
Corwin looked back to the troll, "No, he was not there. I think I'd have remembered."
Wulfgar laughed, "Not that Tim. His namesake. Another player. He's taken over that village."
"When?"
"Probably within the last couple of days," shrugged Wulfgar. "When did you guys go through?"
"A week or so," said Catcher, "and we've been here since."
"What about the bridge?" asked Wulfgar.
"Bridge? What about it?" frowned Corwin.