by G. R. Cooper
“They’re also useless when talking about game mechanics,” added Snorri, “I mean, you ask them what level they are and they just look at you like you’re off your meds.”
Rydra laughed, “That reminds me of the first time I played Dungeons and Dragons. It must have been around 1978 or so, and I did exactly that. I asked a NPC what level they were. The dungeon master responded in that very way; he had the NPC ask me what the hell I was talking about.”
Wulfgar smiled as he looked up at the sky and wondered if there were some guide for the alien races playing NPC’s in this world. Did they have to be mindful to give nothing away? Were they required to limit their interaction to prevent letting something slip? He also didn’t really think that every NPC in the world was really a front for a sentient creature - he couldn’t see some alien wanting to spend their entire existence role playing some shop keeper in the hopes that a human player might wander in and drop some meaningful insight into human culture. No, he was sure that they were likely only about as numerous as the human players in this world. If even that plentiful.
“It works to our advantage sometimes,” continued Rydra. “When I was new, I accidentally slipped and used my true name with an NPC,” Wulfgar looked to Lauren who looked back and him and winked, smiling, “but they immediately forgot it and used some close-but-no-cigar version of my name.”
Wulfgar, thinking back, realized that had happened to him. When he’d tried to get in to see Clive, and told the guard that his name was Duncan Sheriden, the NPC had responded with something like ‘Dundas Sherican’. Wulfgar had thought that the man was just doing that as part of its mockery of him, but Rydra’s information painted the exchange in a new light.
He thought, yet again, to his problem. Finding Shannon. Knowing her true name would help, if he could find someone who could use an appropriate spell. But, he countered himself, that would give someone Shannon’s true name and, apparently, great power over her. He wasn’t at all sure what could happen, but he knew it wasn’t up to him to risk that for her - he’d already done enough wrong to her by his assumptions. She wouldn’t even be in this world if he hadn’t taken it upon himself to resurrect her, and he wasn’t going to compound the problem by making her way in this world even more difficult than it should be.
But, he wondered, how else can I find her? This world seemed immense.
Then he had a thought.
“I think,” he began, “that I need to exit out. To reset and change my character.”
“Why,” said all three of his companions at once. Bear just rolled over on his back, hoping for a belly rub, but was ignored this one time.
“I think,” Wulfgar continued, “that I should be a mage. A wizard. I want to study magic.” That would solve the problem - he would be the one to use his knowledge of Shannon’s name to find her. He just needed to learn magic. To learn the appropriate spell.
“You can,” said Lauren, “as soon as you hit level three, you’ll have a skill point to spend. Use it for level one magic.” She paused, staring into infinity, “and your intelligence is at five,” Wulfgar realized she was reading his character sheet, “which is plenty for level one.”
“And a rogue-mage is a very viable character,” added Rydra, “I considered that one myself,” he shrugged, “and I still might become a thief-mage.”
“A pure mage isn’t all that common,” Snorri pointed out, “and they’re next to useless in adventuring until they get up to a pretty high level. Their buffs are good, but not worth the split in treasure. They usually get screwed out of loot until they can pull their own weight.”
“Buffs?” asked Wulfgar.
“Enchantments,” answered Rydra, “enhancements for combat, for offense or defense. Like the Faerie’s Kiss and Serpent’s Sting that the Aos Si gave us last night.”
Lauren rolled over onto her stomach, her chin resting on her crossed hands, and, Wulfgar had to admit, hormones or no hormones her athletic shape stirred him. She smiled up at him, tilting her head sideways until it rested on her right forearm, “So, you’re really in a good position now to begin your magic training. Just keep adding to your Intelligence as you gain even levels, and add to your magic skills as you gain in odd ones,” she paused and smiled again, “no need to leave and reset.”
Wulfgar thought for a while, and the group continued making small talk. Talking about anything except the upcoming fight. By an unspoken agreement, nobody had mentioned the bad feeling that accepting the quest had given them. He thought about what the others had said, about how he was still in a good place to begin a career in magic. He had no idea how the magic system in this world worked, but that was going to change. As soon as he reached level three, he’d have two skill points to spend, and he now intended to spend both of them in furthering his magical ability.
“How,” thought Wulfgar, “do I tell how long I have until I level up?”
His character sheet appeared, translucent, in front of his eyes and he looked at the beginning, where it listed his level. Level 2. As he read the number, he understood that he was about three quarters the way to the next level. He began to scan down the sheet, some of the skills were further along their advancement to the next milestone, some less.
He looked further down and, at the bottom, noticed that there was an entry, a log, for his combat. He began reading last night’s entry.
Stealth activated. (2 [Stealth level] +5 [ItemBuff]) x 1.5 x 11 [AGI] = 115.5 - 0 [fog] - o [night] = 115.5% Success!
Buff activated. Faerie’s Kiss. Duration 260 seconds.
Buff activated. Serpent’s Sting. Duration 260 seconds.
Revenant 1 Stealth visual check. 115.5 - 50 [visual acuity] = 65.5 + 20 [fog] + 20 [night] = 105.5% Success!
Revenant 1 Stealth aural check. 115.5 - 25 [aural acuity] = 90.5 + 10 [sea] + 35 [combat, local] = 135.5% Success!
Revenant 2 Stealth visual check …
Wulfgar scanned down the sheet, past all of the entries that showed that there was no chance that his Stealth would have been detected by the revenant on the foggy night, surrounded as they were by the noise of the sea and the screams of the sailors.
Target Revenant 1. AC1. Level 3. Hit Points 45.
ToHitAC1 = 35% + 40% [Backstab] + 5% [Small Blade Level 2] = 80%.
RNDRoll: 37. Success!
“4 points of damage!” 1d6 Roll: 2 + 1d4 Roll [Small Blade]: 2 = 4
“13 points of damage, Hidden Stab!” 10 [STR] + 11 [AGI] x .5 + (2 [Small Blade] + 1 [Hidden Stab]) = 13.5
“Faerie’s Kiss! Target is stunned!” 17 [Damage] x 1.5 = 25.5 seconds
“Serpent’s Sting! Target is bleeding!” 1d10 Roll [Damage]: 2 points for 1d20Roll [Duration]: 10 seconds.
Wulfgar looked down to the end.
Target Wulfgar. AC3. Level 2. Hit Points 21. Mana 5. Stamina 13.
The Eyes of the Abyss. BaseChance 40% + ((3 [Revenant 2 level] - 2 [Wulfgar level]) x 10) = 50%. RNDRoll: 21. Success!
1d6Roll [Duration]: 4 = 240 seconds - 13 [Stamina] = 227 seconds.
“The Eyes of the Abyss envelop you!”
Wulfgar closed the sheet and stared up at the clouds floating by as the ship moved through the sea. There was, he thought, a lot more going on in regards to his skills than was presented to him through the little, flash, system messages that his subconscious voice seemed to shout at him during combat. He would have to do some further studying, to learn how all of the different factors combined to determine his success or failure at any given task.
Just like a lawyer went to law school to learn the best way to use the rules of society to his client’s advantage, he needed to apply himself to the rules of this world in order to learn the best way to use the rule-set of this entire world to his advantage.
Wulfgar opened his eyes into a darkening sky. A chilling breeze blew over the deck, over him and, shuddering, he sat up and reached for his clothes, stacked next to his body. He pulled his shirt over his head, then stood to pull on his pants. He looked up at the
rest of the group and smiled.
“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Lauren chided softly, smiling up at him as she sat, leaning backwards on her arms that were planted on the gently rolling deck behind her.
Wulfgar just smiled as he continued dressing, looking around to take in the surroundings. The Aos Si and rats had joined the rest of the party, and all, except for Wulfgar, looked well kitted out and ready for the evening to come. All of them sat around the foredeck, looking up at him. He began to feel a bit like the center of attention, a feeling that had always bothered him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“We were just beginning to plan out what we’re going to do when we get to the island of …” Rydra paused, looked to Bael and Tane, sitting by the base of the bowsprit on the ship’s bow.
“Ma’Keis,” said Bael, looking down his nose, squinting toward the trailing horizon. Tane just lowered his head, saying nothing.
“Ma’Keis,” continued Rydra, “the home of the …” he paused as Bael and Tane looked up at him suddenly, “ … our, uh, adversary.”
“Truly,” admitted Bael, “it is the home of our adversary, the Baen Si,” he and Tane looked pained at the words, “but we go to rid Ma’Keis of whatever it is that drove her from her home.”
As he spoke, a howling wind began to wail, and Wulfgar looked up, past the port edge of the boat and saw that they were passing, fairly closely by, an island. It fronted the sea with steep cliffs against which the surf pounded, and was topped with rolling verdant green hills that stretched into the distance to Wulfgar’s right and left. As he looked, he could just make out the figure of a pale woman, her white cloak and long silver hair whipping around her in the wind, her arms folded across her chest. Even from a distance, Wulfgar could read the pain and anguish in her body language. The wind’s shriek increased.
Bael and Tane leaned forward into their knees, pressing their balled fists into their ears.
“The Baen Si,” whispered Lauren, looking back at the wraith over her right shoulder. Moving easily within her plate armor, she shifted until she was seated facing the island, then looked back to the faerie.
“Ma’Keis?” asked Wulfgar.
Rydra shook his head, “Baile,” then nodded toward Bael and Tane, “their home.”
Wulfgar nodded his head, understanding. Seeing how the faerie were effected by the sound - a sound that he knew was much more to them than the scream of wind - he understood why the folk had been forced to flee their homes.
Lauren pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin on her armored knees.
“The Baen Si’s wail signifies death,” she said softly.
Wulfgar looked at her appraisingly.
As if feeling his stare on her back and understanding his thoughts, she continued, “I’m Irish,” she shrugged, answering his unspoken question.
Bear stood and walked to Wulfgar, who sat, taking the dog into his arms. Timidly, Doe moved in next to her protector and Wulfgar reached across and, hesitantly, began stroking the fur around her neck. She sat on her hind legs and sighed, leaning in against Bear as the dog rested his head on Wulfgar’s knee.
He looked back up, to the island, and noted that the woman, the Baen Si, was no longer in view. The wind began to lower, to quiet, and the faerie straightened, recovering their composure.
Snorri looked to the little pair with true concern in his eyes, “Are you two going to be all right? I mean, if what we’re going up against can make that,” he gestured with his thumb toward Baile, “flee, does it hold power over you as well?”
Bael and Tane exchanged glances, then looked back to the human.
“We are not sure,” said Bael, adjusting a small filigreed head piece - it looked almost like a tiara to Wulfgar - that circled his head just above his eyebrows.
“We have been thinking,” added Tane gesturing toward his brother, “and have been discussing, about the possibility that what we’re going to be facing is …” he paused, gulping. Bael just looked down and wrapped his chest in his arms.
“What we might be facing,” continued Tane, forcing himself to speak through obvious discomfort, “is,” he gulped again and looked up at the rest of the party, his little face screwed up in seriousness, “a leprechaun,” he finished quietly.
Snorri burst into laughter, cutting through the dread that had fallen over the group.
“A leprechaun? Really?” he thought about it some more, then laughed even harder.
The brothers looked at each other incredulously, “He laughs,” said Tane, “at a leprechaun.” They looked back at the big man with wonder in their eyes.
“Of course!” chortled Snorri, “they’re magically delicious!” He lost control in another bout of laughter.
The faerie jaws dropped in unison, “He’s eaten of the leprechaun?” squealed Tane.
“I think,” said Lauren levelly after Snorri had gathered himself, “that they are not speaking of the creature on a box of Lucky Charms.”
“They’re not,” added Rydra, then looked to Snorri, “How familiar are you with your Norse legends?”
“More than passing,” said Snorri, catching his breath.
“As am I, and from what I remember,” he said scratching his head in thought, “what they’re referring to is not so much something you’d find in an Irish gift shop’s toy selection, but more like Loki.”
Snorri paused, thoughtful, “So, kind of like a spirit of mischief,” he pondered some more, “But that’s not so bad. Loki was always getting his ass handed to him.”
Rydra nodded, “But by whom? Thor? Odin? How would you stand up against Loki?”
Snorri gulped, understanding.
“We are,” continued Rydra, “maybe,” he conceded, nodding toward the faerie, “going up against something that made the Baen Si flee, and the Baen Si made the entire Aos Si flee.” He smiled, “That frightens me.”
“Me too,” said Lauren softly. She looked up at Wulfgar and smiled. The group sat in silence for a minute, contemplating their near future. Wulfgar looked toward the island, the shadows thrown by the small hills lengthening, and wondered at the beautiful desolation, wondered at how such a gaunt, windswept scene could be at once so eerie and yet so welcoming.
“So,” concluded Snorri, breaking the silence, “it doesn’t have a pot of gold?”
“Oh no,” said the brothers immediately, “the leprechaun is never found far from his fortune.”
As the evening fled into night, the small ship rounded a promontory, giving it and the waves crashing heavily upon it healthy leeway. As they moved past it, a small island that looked to be no more than a kilometer wide, at the most, hove into view just off the shoreline of the larger island. Like the larger island, Baile, Ma’Keis seemed to rise steeply out of the ocean, with only one lonely spar that reached down into the water. As they approached that point, the captain had the crew pull the sails and drop anchor, leaving the ship stationary half a kilometer away from the shore.
“Should we wait until morning?” asked Snorri quietly. A palpable dread had fallen over them as they came into view of the island, the home of a wraith of death.
“No point, I think,” said Wulfgar, “there doesn’t seem to be a house on the island, I’m guessing that she lives underground,” he looked down to the Aos Si who nodded, “so it doesn’t matter whether we go now or later. Might as well be now.”
Snorri nodded once, then again more forcefully; as if trying to convince himself.
“Yeah, ok,” he said softly, then more loudly, “let’s do this.”
The group gathered into a skiff lowered off the leeward side of the ship and were rowed to the shore by two of the crewmen. As Wulfgar got out, he looked around the beach. It was a narrow, low arm of land that rose up until cliffs formed on either side as it merged with the rest of the island. Waves, seemingly funneled toward the cliff by the nearly ninety-degree meeting of the spur and the bulk of the island, exploded upward, spraying the crest every few seconds. Gulls s
creamed above and through the wash, endlessly startled by the recurrent violence of the sea. Foam churned on the tops of the breakers and seemed to glow in the gathering gloom of the deepening nightfall.
Lauren and Snorri led the way up, with the Aos Si on their left flank, Prince and Bear on the right and Wulfgar and Rydra bringing up the rear. Doe was safely encircled in the middle of the group.
Rydra looked to Wulfgar, “We should probably coordinate how we operate,” he began, “if it turns out we’re going underground, on a dungeon crawl.” Wulfgar nodded, listening. “Our role,” continued the thief, “will likely be as scouts. We’ll each take it in turns to go ahead of the group, to see what’s awaiting us, then return and report. That should allow us to move through the,” he shrugged, “whatever it is, fairly quickly. You take one room, I take the next, and so on. We might have to wait, for the Stealth cool-down, but we’ll be able to get through twice as quickly as otherwise.”
Wulfgar nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”
The little man laughed, “Well, you know what they say. Even the best plan never survives contact with the enemy.”
“That’s why you develop contingencies,” added Wulfgar.
Rydra looked up at him appraisingly, “Yeah, it is. You a vet?”
“No, sir,” chuckled Wulfgar, “project manager.” He thought for a moment, “You a vet?”
Rydra nodded. “U.S.M.C. 1968.”
“Tet?”
“Damn, you do know your shit. Yeah. Hue city.”
Wulfgar laughed again, “Like I said, I used to work in a video store. Full Metal Jacket.”
Rydra shook his head, “A lot of that movie was bullshit,” then he paused and said more softly, “and a lot of it wasn’t.” Wulfgar got the feeling that Rydra didn’t want to discuss it further.
“In any case,” said Wulfgar, “I’m guessing that after that all of this,” he spread his arms wide, “doesn’t really hold a great deal of fear for you.”
“It can, it can,” Rydra acknowledged, “but, yeah. Knowing that you can res takes some of the sting out of it.”
Wulfgar was startled out of his train of thought, “Oh shit, I forgot to bind at a church before we left.”