by RJ Creed
Reward: Unknown
60 EXP
Huh. Looked like my idea had been accepted as a possible path forward by the system. The reward for the quest was now ‘unknown’, so I knew I may not receive any money if I went down the other avenue, but it looked the most enticing to me at that moment.
“Hey, uh, you seem like a really nice guy, so let me just tell you something,” I said, and cleared my throat as Roark lowered the jerkin and looked concerned. I cracked a grin. “Hrzog sent me here to prank you.”
He rolled his eyes and looked down at his pieces with extreme irritation, and I realised he thought I was telling him that I was completely wasting his time. I raised my hands.
“No, hey, I was still on my way here for armour, as it happens. But I passed by Hrzog and he sent me here with this curse to put on your pendant.” I fumbled for the scrap of paper and handed it to him. “I’m still planning to buy a set, and I was only seriously considering the quest since he would have increased some of my skills.”
Roark took it and sighed, and shook his head and handed it to his silent friend; the guy I’d honestly almost forgotten was there. “How’s your Curse skill?” he asked.
The other man grunted in return as if this was a ridiculous question, and took the paper. “Ceshal’s minions,” he muttered under his breath. “This is heavy.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, he was going to have you squawk like a chicken instead of saying ‘leather’ or something, which would have been annoying for the rest of your workday,” I laughed. “Sorry about that, Roark.”
The man raised his obscured face and I could almost feel judgmental eyes sizing me up. “You didn’t bother to check what the curse was? You were just going to say it?”
Shit… “What … does it actually do?” I asked.
He pocketed the curse. “Do you know what the Siren’s Curse is?” He folded his arms. Roark took a step back and whimpered at the thought.
“No,” I admitted, heat creeping up my neck.
“It’s an affliction for sailors, most commonly. If they get too close to too many enticing women at harbour they will, uh, always remember it,” Roark put delicately, his face pale, and nodded downstairs.
“The guy wanted me to give you a freaking STD?” I spat. “That’s insane! What did you do to him?”
Roark shook his head. “I … we had a bit of a fight in the marketplace last week. He called my kind cowardly fighters and I insinuated that he needed swords that large to … overcompensate for something else.” Despite his sickly colouring, Roark managed to snicker at the memory of his joke. “I guess he’s more sensitive about his, um, size than I gave him credit for.”
“Christ,” I said. “That’s so uncool!”
There were STDs programmed into this goddamn game? Who the hell had that great idea? At least I knew that now. You know, just in case.
“Uncool?” the silent man spat. “Yes, it’s unforgivable.” He turned to Roark. “We must send a message.”
Roark shook his head and waved his hands quickly. “No, no. We have no need to kill him, but we could perhaps get him back in kind.”
They both turned back to me.
I raised my own palms. “Guys, I’m just not comfortable giving a guy a sexually transmitted disease, I’m sorry.” Those were words I never thought I’d say.
“But this cannot be ignored,” the man hissed.
“I agree,” Roark said. He stepped closer, and lowered his voice so I couldn’t hear as well, but I still caught his next part. “But allow this to be a personal matter, not one that concerns the guild.”
“It concerns the guild since he has so disrespected a member!” the man replied, clearly less bothered by my listening in. “This will not go unpunished. That filthy orc, he just wants everybody else to be as diseased as he is, I’ll wager.” He chuckled at his own joke. “We will plan our revenge this minute.”
I cleared my throat gently, and they turned to face me again. “I have 400 gold,” I said, feeling really dumb for standing there and talking about leather again.
“Right, yes, that’s fine for the first set,” Roark said, shaking his head as if to clear his head.
Congratulations! Bartering has reached Level 1!
I wondered if he was going to bag it up for me, but clearly not. “Do you mind if I just…” I said, eyeing my timer. I had over thirty-five minutes left. I’d be fine.
“Yes, yes, fine,” Roark said, and didn’t direct me to a fitting room. I chewed on my lower lip and simply pulled off the sackcloth — ahh, finally! Such sweet relief from so much itching — and hauled the brown leather jerkin over my head, and then grabbed the rest of the set too, including a helmet, boots and gloves. Once the piece was on the right part of my body, it snapped to my skin, giving me a perfect fit, which was very handy. As I dressed myself and picked up my old clothes, the men continued to talk in hushed tones. Moro sniffed at my new outfit thoroughly before backing off and returning to sit by the door patiently.
I let them finish and methodically inspected every new piece of armour. There was 5 from the jerkin, 3 from the pants, 2 from both the helmet and boots and 1 from the gloves. As I thought, it was a total of 13 extra points of armour.
“Alright, boy,” the faceless man finally said. “The orc knows our faces.” I resisted the urge to point out that nobody could see his face. “It’ll have to be you to get revenge for our guild—”
“Just for me,” Roark corrected.
“—on our behalf, but we will reward you handsomely. We will not abide disrespect like this!” he said, clenching his fist tight.
“Alright,” I said, “but I have to go out on Collective business right now. I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day.”
“That’s fine,” the man quickly said. “Let us lay low, have him think he has won!”
I sighed. “Listen, I still kinda want his reward. Do you mind if I tell him I went through with it, then?”
They exchanged a look. If you could call it a look when one had no face.
“That would be ideal, in fact,” Roark said with a nod.
“Return here when you’re back from business and we will discuss how to get our revenge.” The final word from the man’s hidden mouth was drawn out and exaggerated. I gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Sure will. Thanks for the deal,” I said, and strolled outside, back into the warm light of the city.
Thirty minutes left. It had taken me fifteen minutes to get over here, but I could see the spire to get back and it looked less than ten minutes away without getting lost in twists and turns. I had the time to accept some levels, as long as it didn’t take too long.
I hadn’t decided what to level up in, though, I realised.
What had it been? Smithing, Enchanting, and Bartering. While two more levels early on in Bartering would definitely be helpful for saving money, I also knew that it would be the easiest for me to level up on my own. And there wouldn’t be many more chances to get a Smithing lesson from one of the greatest smiths in the area, so that would be my best choice.
I entered with a smile on my face, and Hrzog looked up instantly and greeted me by name.
“Matthew,” he said pleasantly. “How did it go?”
I smiled as warmly as I could. “I did it all like you said.”
He looked a little suspicious of me and his face fell. “Did he cluck like a chicken?” he asked. I realised what he was doing, and it was pretty smart — he was checking that I hadn’t just pretended I’d done it. Because if I said yes, I would have been lying.
I tilted my head and pretended to look thoughtful. “Well, no there was no clucking,” I said, “but he looked, uh, uncomfortable? And he said he had to leave.”
Hrzog nodded at my armour set. “But he still served you? Or did you steal? Tell me you did! That would be rich. Stealing from the Master Thief himself?” He slapped his knee. “You’re something else, kid.”
I shrugged, allowing him to think what he wanted.
> When his laughter had died down, he wiped his brow and let out a high whistle, which looked like a struggle to achieve with those big lower fangs.
“Good lad,” he said. “Here are your coins. Have you chosen your skill?”
I nodded firmly. “Smithing,” I said.
Quest Completed!
Roark the Cock
You will receive Smithing training!
You have received 50 gold
You have gained 60 EXP!
“Good choice,” he said with a rumbling laugh. “I would have thought less of a man who came to the greatest smith in the land for anything else.”
I glanced at the timer with just twenty-five minutes left, though, and began to panic. “How long will this take?” I asked him. He furrowed his formidable green brow at me and I realised how ungrateful that may have sounded. “I just, uh, I have to be back at the Collective to begin a very important assignment,” I said. “I only have ten minutes before I should run back.”
He screwed up his face. “You do?” he asked. “That’s a shame. I can unlock it for you in that time but we may not reach a full level up in under thirty minutes.”
“An unlock would be perfect,” I said, making sure to show him my brightest smile. “Thank you, Hrzog.”
“No, thank you, boy. You’ve given me the best laugh I’ve had in months. Come to the anvil with me.”
For the next ten minutes Hrzog showed me very quickly how he created iron ingots and how to use his blacksmith’s forge without getting burned up. The process was a little watered down from how it would have been in my reality, I noticed quickly.
Then when Hrzog began to tell me to vividly picture what I wanted to create in my mind before I began, I knew it was not going to exactly how I’d expected it to be.
“I have to go,” I said finally, full of regret since I hadn’t even unlocked the skill yet just by watching.
“You have to do some first,” he said, and handed me his hammer and tongs. “Take these, hammer the ingots and picture a basic dagger.”
“How long will it take?” I asked. The timer had ticked down to nine minutes so I already knew I was going to run back to the spire.
“To finish, at your level? An hour. Don’t waste time, give it a couple of bashes.”
I held the ingot tight with my tongs and whacked the metal with my hammer. Nothing happened, the hammer just bounced right off it as if deflected by a barrier.
“Boy, come on. Picture a dagger! Look at your own if you’ve forgotten what they look like.”
Right. I closed my eyes and pictured the most vivid dagger I could, and then opened them with the imprint still fresh in my mind. The next blow of the hammer actually flattened the ingot by maybe a half-inch.
You have discovered a hidden skill!
Smithing: A man who can forge his own sword in his small, feminine hands is a man who can forge his own future.
Related Attribute: DEX
I grinned and hauled it up to do again. The next blow altered the shape even further. I could used to this. No actual thought process, just hitting? And then I’d have a cool handmade weapon at the end. Man, I couldn’t wait to progress in Smithing.
“Dammit, I have to go,” I said and laid down the hammer and tongs, wiping my hands on my leather pants. “I’ll be back for that level.”
“See you around,” he said, and then bent double laughing again as I made my way back to his front door. “Sorry, just picturing Roark, uhh … clucking like a chicken.” He wiped at his eyes. “Thanks again, friend.”
His wording led me to inspect him before I left; I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t done it already.
Hrzog the Merciful
Level 18 Orc
Dawnspire Bladesmith
Friendly
Like other merchants in town, I figured he would have been Neutral to me before this, and even though I had lied, that quest had probably made him Friendly.
I nodded at him one last time, hoping that he wouldn’t figure out I was lying before I returned for the rest of my lesson. I pinpointed the huge spire and bolted in that direction as fast as I could. Moro was right at my heels. The leather impeded my movement just a little, but enough to notice, as I ran.
By the time I got to the spire I was wet with sweat and thoroughly out of breath, with just over a minute to spare. I burst back into the Hall of Silence panting, and waved at Nickel, who nodded, relieved. He must have been watching the timer tick down just as I had, and it was clear from his face that he hadn’t wanted to go in my place.
Exactly how dangerous were these witches? Maybe I should have really pushed Roark to consider giving me that expensive leather set … but I couldn’t see how he would have gone for it.
“Selected your party?” Nickel asked me, getting to his feet.
“Yes, I pick Ryken and Gellert for this one,” I said, sucking in a breath. Nickel’s eyebrow raised incredulously.
“Are you sure?” he asked, but then he glanced over at spindly Samson and madly gesturing Atraea sitting together, and nodded to himself. “Right then,” he said. “Here is the map to their last known location. Hunt them down, and take care of them.”
I had to check. “Do you mean kill them?”
He didn’t answer right away. “You can kill them, or otherwise ensure they don’t encounter anyone else.”
That meant ‘yes’.
“Here are supplies enough for two days,” he said, handing over three thick leather packs from the bench beside Silas. I took them gratefully.
When Nickel turned away again I studied the map he had handed over and was disappointed to see that its location did not happen to line up with the map I had stolen from the storeroom. Stolen — shouldn’t I have discovered some hidden skill by doing that? Or had I missed out since Ryken had technically been the one to breach the lock?
It didn’t matter too much; I wasn’t often one to do too much stealing in games, preferring to level up a sturdy tank character with a broadsword. Looking at my stats and my gear, though, it was starting to look like I was a stealthy liar with a quick dagger. It would be interesting to play so differently from usual.
“Right, let’s go,” I said, nodding at Ryken, who looked almost as confused at my choice as I was, and at Gellert, who simply nodded back to me. I pulled out the map and inspected it closely. “East,” I said. “Take a pack each. Let’s go on a witch hunt.”
8
The Glitch
Name: Matthew Blake — Level: 4 — Progression: 13%
Race: Human — Specialization: None
Faction: Dawnspire Collective — Rank: Initiate
STR: 14
DEX: 10
INT: 8
WIS: 5
FORT: 10
CHA: 9 (+4)
Atk: 7 (+4) — Def: 5 (+15)
Alliances:
Dawnspire Collective — Friendly
Top Skills:
Snickersnee (Level 3 — 0%)
Speech (Level 2 — 60%)
Dodge (Level 2 — 10%)
First Aid (Level 1 — 0%)
Stealth (Level 1 — 25%)
Deception (Level 1 — 95%)
Bartering (Level 1 — 5%)
Abilities:
Draw Strike (Level 1)
After we left the city gates I took some time and studied my character sheet. I had a point each to put into an attribute and a skill, and I thought it’d be best to figure that out now. I chose Strength again, because it was always a good idea, and was pleasantly surprised to see that my attack power ticked up by one in response. I thought about my skills for a short while before I decided that putting an extra point into Dodge would be useful.
Now that I had a good base, I decided that I was going to save my subsequent skill points for as long as I could, because it was going to become harder to level them up organically. Attributes I would continue to liberally add to my sheet until I figured out if there was another way to increase them.
“How’s everyone
’s stats and gear?” I asked the others. Ryken moved silently, sullenly, on my left and Gellert strode on my right, staring up at the sky.
“Fine,” Ryken said simply.
With a sigh I turned to Gellert. He smiled back at me. “Hmm? Oh. While you were gone I borrowed a simple shortbow from the Collective, and practised on some rats in the sewers.” He winked. “So much for innovative gameplay, right?”
“What?” Ryken asked, an unhidden sneer on his face. I made a face at Gellert, reminding him to try to keep meta talk away from the non-players.
A quick inspection showed me that Ryken was still Level 6 and Neutral, and Gellert was still Level 4, like me. Hopefully this quest would get us all up a level, and maybe would get me a better weapon too. I couldn’t help but notice that Ryken was still in his sackcloth pants, but had managed to somehow acquire a dark leather jack he had pulled on in place of his scratchy old shirt. Good to see he was trying his best to get out of his low-level clothing. Gellert was still wearing his starting outfit. I may have been the most prepared of the three of us, which felt odd.
We veered off the dirt path to cut a corner beside some farmland. The map showed a curved trade route and warned that predators looked for wandering travellers off the beaten path, but I figured the three of us would be able to handle whatever we came across, especially in farmland. That wasn’t exactly no man’s land, after all.
I saw the same woman I had seen the day before, back when I had initially spawned, and when she raised her head I gave her a wave, remembering how she had bandaged me up and showed me the way. She was wearing the same clothes as she had been in then, and looked even scruffier than I remembered. I realised that was probably because I had spent a lot of time in Dawnspire now and was used to seeing clean and well-off people around me. This woman wasn’t doing as well as the people inside the gates.
“Hey,” I called, breaking off from our trio and making my way over to her. She was kneeling and tending to some newly planted vegetables that looked like they were going to turn out healthy to my untrained eye.