by M J Sweeney
/ Staff-Spear of Shevh / Legendary Mithril & Iron-Wood
[+10 Strength, +10 Agility, +10% Accuracy, +10% Armour Piercing, Staff/Spear +1, Light +1 (2000 Mana)] (Warrior, Priest or Divine Warrior Only, 50 Agility or 50 Strength Required)
190 zorb
At first glance, it didn’t seem like such a great item, as the extra damage seemed a bit limited, even though armour piercing was quite good. The Light spell was also more a generic use ability, even if it was (occasionally) a good defence against rogues. The bonus to the staff/spear ability was good, although it seemed the weapon didn’t deliver as much damage compared to many other “legendary” calibre weapons. Staff/Spear +1 for me meant a bonus level of deflection added to whatever I had already put into that ability. Basically, it gave an extra 5% deflection, or 10% total. I just didn’t understand why the system wrote it that way.
Even though I definitely couldn’t afford it, the Staff of Shevh still seemed a little under-priced, so I wondered why. The forums stated it wasn’t a best fit for priests, as it didn’t offer any extra healing abilities and its melee attack capabilities were more agility-based, a statistic that was hard for most priests to increase adequately. Most priests would either go for a full healer’s staff (with healing bonuses) or the classic hammer and shield melee option.
I looked down the list. There were set items to match!
/ Bracers of Shevh / Legendary Shadow-Leather
[+10% Attack Speed, +10% Critical Hit Chance, Accuracy +2, +15% to all Healing Given] (Priest, Divine Warrior, or Rogue Only, 50 Agility Required)
280 zorb
/ Crown of Shevh / Legendary Shadow-Leather
[+20 Intellect, +50% Slow Resistance, +33% Critical Damage Resistance, +10% Mental Resistance, Light Efficiency +2] (Mage, Priest or Divine Warrior Only, 50 Intellect Required)
(Not for Sale)
1800 zorb offered for trade (multiple entries)
Lore
[Shevh (family name now lost to time) was a wandering mendicant of the second age during the advent of Ulgorrim and Kraazacht. He travelled the earth healing seelie and unseelie alike, and only rarely needed to use his bracers, staff, and crown in defence. More often than not, he was able to heal his way out of a problem. His clothing and accoutrements were so worn after seventy years of this service, that to this day the three items look so nondescript that many an adventurer has passed them by unwittingly]
The second two items were amazing. The bracers were really liked by rogues and priests, and the crown (unique) was lusted over by mages and priests—it granted resistance to critical hits. What a nice item! The improvement to slow resistance on that one was no joke either. There was only one of these crowns in the whole world, so the chances of actually finding it were small to none. Its stats were there on the forum because someone had found it, secretly shown its stats, and not taken anyone up on the offer to sell or trade. If I had found it I wouldn’t trade it either.
As a side-line, I also found Anzan had a small but nice rack of clothes for men. Perhaps some of his cast-offs, but all well-made threads that would do for more important stuff like fancy dinners, or business meetings, that kind of thing. So I bought a couple of vests, a matching set of black pants and shirt that fit, and a couple of nice fashion scarves—long and silky, and definitely elven style. Just what I needed, at a bargain price of just a few dran.
I was actually saving my coins to buy some more rings, and maybe an amulet, but now I really wanted those items too—particularly the bracers, and maybe the staff. I sighed and logged off the interface.
“Anzan?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“I need to get my armour repaired. Where is the Elven Armourer’s Guild?”
“It’s south of the tree on Whistle-blowers’ Avenue. Shall I mark it on your map?”
“Yes, thanks.”
I then made my way back my room to think. I looked up information about the Elven Pantheon through my interface.
Lindane and Cylvai were generally considered the King and Queen of Elven mythology—Lindane for his understanding of the forest and its creatures, Cylvai for her knowledge of the fae and the astral, the ghostly realm. However Anthul was one of the elder gods, and considered above them both. Like Enh (the goddess of meditation), he did not encourage or attract many followers, as he disdained the accumulation of power and wealth. He was harmony for its own sake, not for any gain. He was more popular with moon elves, and apparently in the last centuries, less so with high elves. Seti was considered half-elven in most cultures (human, dwarven, and beast races), but in the elven community, she was believed to be a full high elf. Apparently, there were some arguments about this, and not a few battles had been fought in her name.
On a more mundane level, I read that in Geras Anandiel, at the top of the priestly ladder was the Arch Druid Denchen Adarenin’Anandiel, dedicated to Lindane. He sat on the council of Unity, chief among advisors to the High King Urh’Anandiel. He also lived in the Great Tree, in the Cave of Roots, and cared for its well-being. Next, I read about the High Priest Gath Torren, the Lord of Rangers, also dedicated to Lindane. He was also on the council of Unity, although his abode was outside the city, at the Hunting Lodge Kang Andain.
Then there was the High Priestess of Cylvai, Siderenne Alendh, dedicated to healing, magic, and knowledge of the fae—she attracted healers, mages, researchers, and summoners. Her abode was deep in the northern forest, in a place called the Grove of Bells. A wood elf by the name of Follin Bedanois was the only well-known priest of Seti (no high priests for her), and he wandered the realms, current whereabouts unknown. The child-goddess Seti had no formal church.
There were two priests to Anthul, though neither were listed as “High.” The first was Priestess Illaniel Olvarre, a high elf enchanter who ran an elite school for magic-makers. It seemed to get in to the school you had to be at least a level 50 mage or priest, and dedicated to Anthul. The last was Ascard “Swift-Hands” Artana, leader of the Bards College of B’Anh Goldaire. The Bards College was also dedicated to Anthul. It seemed that elven enchanters and bard both used music to affect the world. The former, mostly elves, sang in old alfar, causing the impossible to somehow become possible. The Bards College by comparison seemed much more mundane to me, and also a lot more accessible, so I looked up the address. The location given for the college was on a hill by the north gate called Northwind’s Passage.
That afternoon, I played the lute in my room and procrastinated for a little. I was feeling impatient waiting for Marcus to get back to me. I rose early the next morning, beginning with my usual warm-up routine, and did a session of shadow-sparring on my own in the church’s outer courtyard.
With all my reading and studies, the efforts of my private training, plus increasing my knowledge of Memory—expanding my map by wandering the streets of Geras—I was clocking up some slow but steady experience. I gained level 19, and edged half-way to level 20. That was a welcome surprise. You didn’t just earn experience from killing monsters, but also earned it by learning and experiencing the world in general.
After that, I was feeling cramped in my room, so I went to the Popina to have an early lunch before I did some errands. There seemed to be more dwarfs in the tavern than was usual, though being midday, it wasn’t so noisy yet. I asked Big Nose about it.
“It’s ta end o’ the mining season,” he explained, “Dwarfs be hard workers, mind, but we love a good drink and a good story, so fer the end o’ winter and ta Festival o’ Lights, half me northern brethren come down from ter mountains and drink ta tha ‘ealth ‘a Durdain.”
I ate my lunch in silence, thinking about having a drink, but decided it was too early.
“Well, well, if it ain’t me old friend Cordaen the Dryad.”
I looked up from my musings and was surprised to see Hagard Hagstrom standing at my table, one knuckled hand pressing into its surface. I noticed the dwarf had upgraded his armour and was now wearing a full metal breastplate—if a bit dul
l and scratched—and the same huge silver axe strapped to his back.
“Oh, Hagard. Good to see you,” I said politely, though it wasn’t true.
“It’s good timing for me, but not so much for you,” he snarled. He looked me up and down, squinting at my better-than-average clothing suspiciously.
“What? What do you want, Hagard?”
“It’s time for you to pay up. I want my money.”
“What?”
He stood there with another dwarf behind him, a sly, weasely-looking fellow in studded leather armour. “You owe me coins for that stupid trip out east. Now pay up.”
“The fuck I do. You refused to accept my leadership, so you get nothing. Now get lost.” I expected him to get angry at that and was preparing to lurch backwards out of my chair and grab my spear, which was resting on the wall behind me. (Dwarven pubs allowed everyone to wear whatever armour and arms they wanted, unlike some of the more upmarket elven taverns, which usually required you to deposit weapons in a guarded cloak room. It was part of the reason I preferred this one.)
But Hagard remained strangely calm. “I was hoping you’d say that, bark-face. I was promised compensation for that trip—all expenses paid, if I recall correctly. Are you refusing payment?”
I heard my interface ding, and by the look on his ugly mug, so did Hagard.
/ Just Cause—Pay Hagard His Expenses /
/ Accept Y / N /
“Fuck. You can’t be serious.”
He just glared at me.
I sighed. “How much, you stumpy numb-nuts?”
He glared at the insult and clenched his fists. “Two zorb.”
I let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Now that’s a joke.”
“Pay up.”
“No way. No way did that trip cost you two gold. Gods-damned, worm-faced liar.”
He grated his teeth, leaning in a bit. “Now, normally that’d piss me off, but now you’ve made me really happy.” He stepped back slightly. “I’m calling you out. Fight to the death. And I’ll take all yer coins off yer wimpy little body when I cleave ya in two.”
/ Just Cause—Fight Hagard to the Death /
/ Accept Y / N /
/ Win - Gain Experience and Gain 1 Item /
/ Loss - Lose Experience and Lose 1 Item /
OR
/ Pay Fee and Lose Reputation with Various Guilds /
What the—? I blinked on yes.
The room had gone quiet, then suddenly became noisy again as the lunch crowd turned to look at us and talk. It looked like some were already taking bets. Hagard rubbed his hands gleefully. Big Nose came up.
“Now, now, lads. Is there really call fer—”
“Deal is done, Big Nose!” Hagard growled. “And me cause is just, by-the-beard.”
“Maybe so, Hagard, but rules is der rules, and I’ll be followin’ ’em by ya beard or nay.” He glared back at Hagard, deterred not at all. “Now, yer say he owes yer money.”
“The Gods’ truth,” Hagard declared.
“Be this true, dryad?”
I thought about it a moment. “Yes, it is,” I replied grudgingly. It had completely slipped my mind that I had promised the group all expenses, but I had been mad at Hagard at the time.
“Ha!” He barked a short laugh. “I told you so; death at dawn!” Hagard danced around, happy as if all his birthdays had come all at once.
“Now, you just sit the fuck down, pip-squeak,” Big Nose growled. “Calm yesself.”
Hagard kept dancing for a moment, but stopped when he realised that Big Nose was serious. His face started to go red.
Big Nose pointed at the chair. “Sit. Now.” Sullenly, the smaller dwarf complied.
“Now, dryad… Cordaen, is it?”
“Yes, master dwarf.”
“Do you owe… what was it? Two zorb to our friend Hagard here?”
I was about to say no, but thought about it. Why should I resist this? If the stupid dwarf wanted to fight, I was fairly confident I could kick his ass. Probably I was a higher level than him, and only wished I knew for sure.
“To be honest, sir, I don’t rightly recall the amount. It might have been possible.”
“Yer sure?” I could see the glint in the ugly dwarf’s eye; he was trying to help me out. I winked at him.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He frowned at me, then slowly nodded. “All right then, lads. Yer both agreein’?” We both nodded, Hagard now looking at me suspiciously. “Tomorrow at dawn it is. Out ta back o’ the Popina in the courtyard. Yer can bring anything ta tha fight that yer can carry. May the best dwarf win.” He winked at me as he said it.
Hagard clapped. “Yer a dead elf, fool.” He pointed at me, then got up and left, his lackey trailing faithfully behind. Why did that type always have a lackey?
“Yer sure about this, elf?” Big Nose asked.
“Nothing sure in life; just got to make the best of it as it comes, no?”
“Surely be truth in that.”
I left the tavern then, my appetite for drinking soured. It looked like most bets were going against me, even from some of the dwarfs I’d befriended. Erilesse backed me up however, and with a wink loudly proclaimed she’d back me against a dwarf-runt like Hagard anyday. Well, that was nice, so I gave her a short bow before taking my leave.
I checked the interface as I walked back to my room. Duelling had three levels: Friendly—for training and fun, Serious—to first blood, for honour or coin, and Deadly… the last was obvious. You could muck around with friends with the first whenever you wanted, but for the other two, the system required you to wait about twenty-four hours, sober up, and potentially call it off. I wondered if the slimy dwarf had been following me somehow just so he could make the challenge. I didn’t suppose it mattered.
I changed into my better duds; black cotton and wool trousers, matching high-collared black shirt, and a deep red vest that offset the darker shirt. The trousers covered my worn boots, mostly, I’d have to get proper dress shoes later as I couldn’t really afford them now. Lastly, I brushed out my long grey hair. Tying that back neatly, I grabbed my spear and set off again.
Chapter 20
The Bard’s College was a large three-story building of whitewashed wood and stone, with large windows on each floor. It had what looked like a training yard for weapons, and a larger fenced area for horse-riding training. There was a bright gold lettered sign out the front, hung from a long white pole.
B’Anh Goldaire
Bard’s College
Geras Anandiel
When I went to knock on the large front door, three elf lads came bustling out, instruments in hand, and nodded to me politely in passing. The last held the door open for me, so in I went. The atmosphere inside was friendly—it seemed more like a school for musicians. Perhaps that’s what bards mostly did—talk, drink, and sing. Teenagers and adults of various ages walked around, going to classes and chatting.
I found a receptionist partway down the main hall. “Name?” he asked.
“Cordaen of-the-Forest.”
“Purpose of visit?”
“Oh, well… I…” I trailed off.
“Yes?” The man, a human, wore spectacles and a dark suit and tie, but was otherwise nondescript.
“I would like to speak to the Bard, the leader—Ascard Swift-Hands.”
“Purpose of visit?”
I hesitated a moment. “Ordination, I guess.”
“Eh, what’s that?”
“I guess you could say I felt um… a calling. To come… to be a priest.”
He really looked at me then, though smiling a bit condescendingly. Taking in my relatively neat and polished attire, he nodded slowly.
“Possible. I don’t think Lord Artana is free today. Do you want an appointment?”
“Yes.” I heard a door opening and closing from further in.
“Georg? Georg? Who’s that with you?”
The secretary turned. “My lord, he was looking for an interview.
I told him you were busy—your schedule, your classes…”
Ascard Artana was a tall half-elf with long blond and grey hair tied back with a leather cord, a neatly trimmed grey goatee, and bright blue eyes. His face was lined and weathered with a mass of laugh lines and frown lines. He had a holy symbol of the harp around his neck, and next to it, on another leather thong, a rusty hilt from a sword. It was one of those “basket” types, from a cutlass or rapier. Strange. He was grinning at me.
“Never mind that, Georg, introduce us.”
“Lord Ascard Artana, may I present Cordaen of-the-Forest.”
“Greetings.”
“Now, Georg,” the bard brushed him off impatiently. “I’ve told you about that lord stuff. The title was given only begrudgingly, and I don’t care for it, so stop it.”
“Yes, my lord,” the man replied mildly. Clearly it was a long-standing argument.
The bard sighed and turned towards me. “You seem an interesting chap,” Ascard commented, though his eyes seemed to take in my scuffed leather boots poking out from the edge of my trousers. “Much more interesting than my four o’clock private with Lady Uinevene. Cancel that one for me, Georg; give it to Sharisse. She needs the experience.”
“But my lord! That’s three times this moon; she will—”
“Georg!”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And stop my-lording me!”
“Yes, my lord.”
The bard grinned at me, then scowled at Georg. “C’mon, let’s have tea. We can go to the back office.”
He took me up some stairs and into a corner room. The area had an upright piano, a few instruments—mostly guitars and lutes—hanging from hooks, and a large, comfortable couch on the back wall, half-facing the window. Leaning my spear against the wall by the piano, I sat on the couch and we sipped some tea.