Despite the fatigue, I was interested. Asking those gathered by the entrance was useless— they wouldn’t be up to it and it’s not like the clans to welcome excess curiosity. Besides, as I watched, the clan revised the order of battle and sank into the blackness of the entrance. The raid began. But a little away from the entrance, next to a blazing fire, were answers— and I directed my feet to go that way. Curiosity is a not vice.
Coming closer, I got behind the players and began to listen.
- … Then we saw them! – excitedly blabbered a copper haired elf, clearly not repeating these words for the first time.
- Saw them! – growled the warrior man, dressed only in a standard diaper— Harpoon in my belly, you see! But didn’t see them!
- And then your heels flew away into the darkness. And your cry “mommy!” was heard— the elf laughed sarcastically, slapping his knee. By the way, the elf was wearing exactly the same thing— only the diaper.
- And you wouldn’t have yelled? – the warrior sheepishly muttered, and sipped hurriedly from a leather wineskin— So unexpected…
- I also yelled. Was so scared… -- quietly said a blonde girl in a skintight leotard— And had no time to heal anyone. You flew away so quickly! Just like that! And you’re gone! And then us too… harpooned…
- What the hell happened, guys? – boomed an approaching gnome with a spade beard— What is it? A boss or something?
- Yeah right, nothing like that! – said the elf determinately, whom apparently it did not bother to repeat the same story over and over— Boss… ha! Grebehroks, that’s who!
- Who, who? Upon grebe… -- the gnome faltered on an unfamiliar word.
- Grebehroks! Horror! Harpoons! Poison! Armor! Ghostly light! And the agony!
- Huh, that’s what… -- I muttered under my breath, trying to recall the Grebehroks.
Something fresh in the memory.
Some extremely rare shellfish. Predatory shells, to put it simply. This information was the best I could come up with in my exhausted mind, but I still didn’t understand all the hype. And why was the Crimson Cross suddenly involved, tearing into the dungeon in such a large group? Not because of shells…
A discussion continued in the meantime, and I didn’t fail to overhear. A few minutes of listening and I was aware of what happened.
The truth was this: a group of eight players went to the breeding grounds. They reached the last level quickly enough and, unlike our group, decided to try their luck and have a look at the very bottom. A chance they sure paid for. At the entrance was a warm welcome. And not from Kobolds, but from another alien monster. It all played out like a horror movie— with terrible, highly unexpected special effects. Out of the darkness flew thin spears and stabbed the warrior in the front of the team in the stomach. A strong jerk— and the screaming warrior was dragged into darkness. After another moment, he died, but more harpoons had already flown from the abyss. Part of the group ran off, and the rest flew back to the revival location. It wasn’t the death of their teammate which frightened the players but the stealth and invisibility of the enemy. But that’s not the point. Many are killed in the breeding grounds. Not a rare case.
The point is the monster— as soon as he players were in the revival location and started yelling about the horror, instantly, a couple of the soldiers of the Scarlet Clan approached them as if materialized out of thin air at the mention of the word “spear” or “ghostly light”. The victims were questioned, after which each was awarded with ten gold coins for the information. And in another three minutes, fighters of the Scarlet Clan began to appear at the entrance of the caves, hastily forming a battle group. That’s when I got there, in the midst of organization.
Much was cleared up, but questions remained. What had frightened the Scarlet Cross so much that they had so quickly rushed after these mollusks? Do they have shells of diamonds or gold? I highly doubt that.
Hell… no matter how hard I try, I can remember nothing good about the Grebehroks. Memory is peddling the same information. Shellfish. Shells. Light. Harpoons. Poison. They live in a location of… the location of… but I do not know. I have never heard of a home location of Grebehroks and do not know where they “live.”
Right! Grebehroks are related to Gravers!
They live in water and darkness. Sometimes they suddenly appear in a particular dungeon, “pleasing” all players with their presence. Grebehroks are certainly not “registered” in the Breeding Grounds. And it was not clear how they got here, having immediately sent a few players to the revival location. Roughly speaking— there are still some monsters to be killed in the Breeding Grounds. Hmm… it turns out that the Crimson Cross went to destroy them, so that nothing could come in the way of newcomers and their adventures. Honorable cause. As “big” players should act, when a Graver is born in the dungeon.
- Rigging! – said a familiar fellow from the Scarlet Cross grudgingly – from him, I had bought a colorful booklet about the Karst Caves.
Catching the salt-soaked sea word, I stopped digging in my own memory an listened, pricking up my ears to conversation.
- What “rigging?” – repeated the surprised girl in a skintight leotard, which seemed to have replaced her standard T shirt and diaper. Modest and tasteful.
- From the Grebehroks it can be obtained almost perfect rigging— willingly explained the player in a white cape— So, kids, if you see these monsters anywhere, just tell us. No one left without a reward. Alrighty?
- Award… - said the girl, hurt— All of my equipment was left there…
- We’ll return it— said the fellow very seriously— If it’s still in its place— we’ll take it and return it.
- O! Thanks!
- What about my stuff? – said the dwarf, above whose shoulder loomed the man in a diaper.
- We’ll gather everything and return it. In gratitude for the information about the shells— reiterated the player of the Scarlet Cross clan, hitting his chest with his fist for validity.
- So it’s for rigging? You’re joking!
- Eh, you ground rats! – he shook his head, although he did not look at all like a sea wolf— What do you mean, joking? Running rigging! Attachments. Mast arms. To raise and lower the sails, and stuff…
The fellow stopped in embarrassment and I realized that he himself was not really well versed in this matter. Might have caught a couple of terms from other people and used them at the right time and had exhausted his entire stock in a few moments.
But I could go on much longer. If desired, I could even list several famous ships from the past. All the lines, sheets, halyards, braces… and so on. No way to pluck it from my memory. Although the sea is definitely not my thing. It’s all my dad…
- And how is it perfect? – the girl did not let up, obviously excited about her equipment being returned.
- Resistance to damage— said the youth, already turning— Very strong, stable physically and magically, plus… Ehhrm… In short! The best material for running rigging. Clear? The ideal material. And if you enchant it for additional strength and put it through the hands of a master, you get a real fairy tale! Got that kids?
- Righto, daddy— squeaked the girl.
The rest of the crowd laughed and excitedly began to say something but I did not hear because I walked away with a quick step, having completely lost interest in the topic of conversation.
Rigging. Accessories for ships. Even for a fool it is clear for which ships. Work at the shipyards does not stop for a second. Stocks in ship after ship. And they are not just ordinary ships, they’re masterpieces. Not even by their form but by their content.
From small ships to giant monsters. Choose any one and get to work! The options are countless— there is much to choose from.
But as for the materials… that is the important part…
The ship can be constructed from conventional timber with hemp rigging and silk sails. The standard option… with almost no chance of reaching the lost c
ontinent. But to go sailing along the coast— a sweet deal. For fisherman or small merchants, this is perfection. Spacious, and relatively cheap.
Or you can build a ship out of unique and raw materials. Insert special artifacts, inscribe protective runes, hang amulets and charm the sails… very much can be done. Everything depends only on money. Rigging of Grebehroks— one of the most expensive options. Because they are unpredictable, and they are never in groups of more than two or three at best. Most of the time, only one. There is no “home” location for them— and if there is, I cannot imagine where. Although I firmly know that this location, if it exists, is full of high level players, day and night hunting after these creatures for their strong harpoons. And if the location is occupied by a powerful clan, they destroy not only the predatory shellfish, but all those other players who happen to wander by. Competition.
I am confident that if there were Grebehroks rigging on the market, they are long since bought by the wealthy clans for big money. Bought and turned into a ships rigging at the speed of light. Right— but I do not have to worry about it. For me there is always going to be a place on a ship— take your pick. As long as I can get the necessary mana points.
Remembering an unfinished business, I abruptly turned around and hurried to the tall cloaked figure who had not gotten a chance to leave, and was left to answer a barrage of questions. He, however, seemed to like to play the role of omniscient guru— this is understandable. Any other player would not be have been able to put up with it, though— I, for example, would have howled at the second hour of such a life. To walk to the location, explain everything to newbies, distribute flyers, reassure fallen heroes, inspire them to repeat the attempt… total darkness… For this work, one must be a real nurse— only with a beard, and armor and an axe at the ready.
- Here. To repay my debts for the booklet. Thanks— I nodded.
- Huh? – The fellow momentarily broke away from the story and focused his eyes on me— Aha! Hey. Debt accepted. We are even. Thanks, small fry. Good luck.
- And you— I chuckled, turning back again. One less debt. That’s good. I don’t like debts. Forgetting about me, the fellow continued his lecture, not forgetting to put the gold in his pocket:
- If a Grebehrok is tame and you put him in a special water tank on the upper deck, he will make a kick-ass gun harpoon. Have you heard about the big fish in these oceans? That’s right. That’s where you’ll need these shells. And aim is not necessary— poke a finger, the shell fires his harpoon, and it’s done. All that remains is to drag the fish and collect the trophies. And in naval battle the Grebehroks are needed too. Makes a great harpoon gun. You laugh? Shoot the side and reel the enemy to your craft, just like that. Well, I guess that’s really what we need them for. There is a pirate clan hunting on the seas. A whole fleet. In their main ship live as many as ten Grebehroks! Their rigging is so strong that you can’t cut through it, and can’t climb over…
- Why harpoons? Surely you could just use magic! – squeaked the indignant, girlish voice.
- Ha! Magic! – snorted the fellow— Ships are protected. Amulets, talismans, artifacts and special materials for construction. Laughing? Not every ship, of course, but the clannish— almost everything. So magic won’t do it alone. Grebehroks, catapults, explosive and fiery potions, achilot saboteurs… Ah! Romance! Somewhere about a year ago, there was a very cool thing that happened— I thought, I wouldn’t get out alive… a lot of people died!
I had gone so far away already that I did not hear the continuation of the story. Newcomers eat up such stories. I was the same in my time.
Passing the watchtower, I pulled up at the counter of another sleepy seller and settled another due— for the unique AntiProt boots that were not, in the end, very useful. Saying goodbye to the merchant, I continued on and headed to the revival location. A couple of dozen steps forwards and I stopped and chuckled in surprise— I was standing on a small hill, and before me stretched the nearly indistinguishable dark ribbon of the river, on the shore of which gleamed no less than two dozen fires. Well, and which one was mine?
- Hehehey!— I heard a familiar voice and, smiling, hurried towards the call. Bom. Professional donkey. Even his call corresponds to the unspoken name of his beloved profession.
Everything seemed very cozy— a neat fire, a stock of firewood and several thick logs placed around the square. In the grass were perched a few pot-bellied bottles and bundles. There was even a guitar— so simple and unpretentious that it seemed absolutely real and not “digital.” The fire, however, looked somewhat otherworldly— instead of scarlet and yellow flames there shimmered at least a dozen different shades, including ghostly green. Probably someone had added some magic powder to the flames.
The whole company was assembled around the fire in exhausted poses. Like tired hunters.
Kaylan Seeker and her dwarf companion sat side by side, and Bom and Doc were on the other side of the fire. And Orbit was there too— the hairless elf sat on the grass, close to the fire, staring into flames. Sitting so close, that he was nearly about to fall in. Maybe it was for this reason that the bald head sported so many scars? Maybe burnt up a bit… twenty times…
- Happy returns— greeted Bom, slapping a log with his hand— Fall!
And I “fell”— meaning, flopped down backwards upon the log and, with a long sigh of relief, stretched out my legs.
Tired…
“Soon Decay is going to begin”… I thought for the umpteenth time that night, the thought flashing in my clouded mind. And I didn’t want to exit Valdira— not now, when so much is left undone.
Reaching into my bag, I retrieved the wine and marshmallows and handed them to Bom.
- Hold this.
- Holding— Bom nodded, handing everything to Doc— all except for two bottles of wine and a pack of marshmallows, which somehow casually went directly into his bag.
- Bom— I said reproachfully.
- For later! – said the half orc, who already had no sword or shield behind his back. Everything was in the bag. Respectable.
- For later— I chuckled. As though we would still have meetings and general business. But who knows… everything is possible.
- Marshmallows, wine and stars— Kaylen said dreamily, opening the bag of sweets— Cool! Thanks, Ros. By the way… don’t take it personally…
- Yeah?
- Can you take off the mask and hat already? Somehow it doesn’t really fit for the occasion.
- Aw damn! – I muttered and, to the sound of laughter, pulled off the mask and wide brimmed hat— There’s the masquerade in Algora again. So I…
- There’s always a masquerade there— grumbled Bom— Slackers!
- And yourself then? – Doc pinned him, uncorking a bottle of wine.
- And I am on a break— retorted the half-orc— A short one. I sit here with you for a bit and then go back into the cave. Only first to the village and the personal room, and then back here.
- Again in the cave? – I was amazed— Aren’t you gonna be sick?
- Me, sick from filling up my own bag? – Bom was amazed— Yeah right! Right! I’ll be sick if I went a day without filling it about ten times over.
- Interest-ting-ggg…-- drawled the half elf, and again stared into the fire.
- Oh! Before I forget! – said the startled “ass” and, running his hand through his bag, fished out a bundle of burgundy— Here you go, boss. Red coats. For the quest. From the bald elf. Five pieces. Sign here to obtain.
- Huh – I was amazed, holding out my hand— Orbit, and you?
- I have them— shrugged the melancholy Elf— This is for you. A g-gift.
A royal gift— now I don’t have to go back to the breeding grounds. But where did the elf get the raincoats? Something doesn’t add up… or was I not paying attention? In any case, I wasn’t going to refuse a gift.
- Thank you— I said sincerely— I owe you.
- Eh— Bom sighed— And I thought we could go i
n again together. We didn’t do a bad job. For wealth and for experience.
- I’m glad you enjoyed it— I smiled.
- Maybe we can stop talking about work? – said the offended woman, taking a crystal goblet filled with wine from the dwarf. Where’d the glass come from? Does the dwarf always carry it for his girlfriend? It is possible— Cray was clearly head over heels for the girl. Treated her like a princess.
- It’s not work, but the meaning of life— didactically boomed the half-orc.
- Yeah! – echoed Doc— I would take another walk in the caves too. When will I ever find such a group?
- Join a clan or something – shrugged Cray.
- What do you think I am, a stray dog? – said the offended doctor— and anyway, I want to join the clan as a gifted healer.
Another diagnostic of Valdira. Many players would prefer not to join a clan just as “another member” but as a “highly skilled character.” In most cases, nothing good comes from these desires. Alone, it is difficult. Even among such cases as being the unique Navigator— I am only irreplaceable until the first ship pokes its nose upon the shore of the lost continent. Immediately after that, all indispensability ends.
- Let’s not talk about work— I said aloud, sipping wine straight from the bottle.
- Come on then, and how about you?— immediately reacted Kaylen.
- What about me? – I was surprised.
- Ha! – growled Bom— We already heard enough. You’re a legend of Valdira, right? There is even a site about you. Respect.
- This is a coincidence— I waved sincerely— Believe me guys. I do not need this grandiosity. I’m just playing.
- Just playing? What about Lizanna? Part of gameplay?
- A job turned up— I said— why not earn a couple of dozen gold coins? Would you have refused, Bom?
The Way of the Clan 4 (World of Valdira) Page 4