The Bathrobe Knight

by Charles Dean

  As he walked through the town of charred and dead NPCs, he couldn’t help but remember the bonds he had made with each of them. They hadn’t been long or in-depth connections, and Darwin felt as if he was forcing himself to feel sad. However, whether or not it was forced, the feeling was there. These NPCs, these people, had somehow managed to live richer and fuller lives with more emotion than he had ever enjoyed playing games every free hour of the day with guildmates that didn’t even know his name nor he theirs.

  The bartender had a son, a wife, a family and patrons that relied on him. Now he was charred meat for the crows. Elmont had spent his entire life without a family, but he guarded the city and probably knew every soldier’s name and family. Now he was dead on the streets. They don’t care about the people of this land, only the things they can take from them. Her voice rang through his head again. Was she right? How can they see lines of code as anything real or significant? I didn’t until I got stuck here. They were just quest givers and item droppers.

  As he walked further towards the fountain, the binding spot for Valcrest, he saw more and more burned and destroyed homes and NPCs. God, this is terrible. What was the difference between them, me and Kass? Are the people’s emotions real or just a series of reactions programmed to simulate the appearance of emotions?

  “Sir, what would you like us to do?” a voice interrupted his contemplations.

  “Umm, excuse me? Can I help you?” Darwin responded, looking at the soldier who was questioning him. He was a young recruit, even younger than Kass. He had a clean buzz cut, a Spear, and the standard issued Chainmail Armor every Guard in the town was wearing.

  “Yes, sir. I’m reporting for duty. You are the current Captain of Valcrest, no?” he asked.

  “I guess I am.” What? How many jobs did I get with one promotion? At this rate, I’ll go from the Bathrobe Knight to the Bathrobe King. “What do you usually do when you report in?”

  “Me, sir? I’m the Scout. It’s one of the few reasons I’m still alive at the moment. I was scouting the direction they didn’t attack from.” he said, eyes cast to the ground.

  “So then you know the situation for the whole town right now?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve had heavy casualties: all but seven of the military are dead. Civilian deaths don’t go past the merchants and families living on the wall in the square. The problem is that we’ve taken severely heavy Damage to the buildings because of the fires. All in all, around 80% of the village won’t have fully functional roofs for two to three weeks until the thatching is finished. That means we’re going to have people freezing in their own burnt and nonfunctional homes.”

  “What about our defenses?”

  “Like I said, we only have seven military personnel including myself.”

  “I see . . .” Darwin began to think. As a raid leader he had often organized the players for defensive and offensive struggles against tough odds, but never for defending a town. While he didn’t know how tough the group that had done this was, he knew that another group would do the same once the coffers were fat. He also was aware of his limitations. If he tried to stay in town and defend it 24/7, then he wouldn’t level and would likely be overwhelmed just as quickly as Elmont had been.

  “Anything else, sir?”

  “Yeah . . . actually, what authority does the Captain of Valcrest have? On the domestic front? And which direction are the farms?”

  “Well, normally the Captain has no authority over civilians, but the Mayor died in the raid too, so I suppose that makes you the highest Ranking person in town. As long as the command isn’t ridiculous, the civilians will most likely obey until they get a new Mayor elected. As far as where the farms are, well they are on the east side. It’s why the town traditionally had an army to protect it against the White-Horns.”

  Darwin tried his best to think of a ridiculous command to give the town after being posed the challenge, but came up empty-handed. He was about to resign himself to doing nothing about the situation when an idea finally struck him. “Scout, what’s your name?”

  “My name? I’m Yoo, sir.”

  “Huh? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m m . . . your name is Yoo, isn’t it?” Darwin said, catching himself before he fell prey to the cliche joke.

  “Yes, sir. My full name is Justin Yoo,” the Guard answered with a straight face.

  Don’t facepalm, Darwin. Don’t facepalm. You know his name was probably picked out by a programmer with a sense of humor. “Justin, I want you to mobilize the civilians. Tell them to pack their bags and head out of the east gate. Tell them to bring everything they can hold in one trip. And this last part is crucial, so you need to pay attention to it very closely, do not let any of those that aren’t residents of the town see them leaving. Let me see your map, and I’ll mark the rendezvous spot.”

  “Are you sure Elmont knew what he was doing when he promoted you, sir?” Justin asked, watching as Darwin marked a spot on his map.

  “No. No, I don’t think he did, but given how few of us there are left, I don’t think he had much of a choice now, did he?” Darwin laughed.

  “No. No, sir. I don’t think he did.”

  “Good. Then get moving, Justin. I don’t know how long the respawn timer is, but we have a lot to do and I don’t want to spend all night working.”

  “Yes, sir,” Justin said, rolling the map up and stashing it somewhere behind his back.

  As soon as Justin left, Darwin opened his own inventory and pulled out the Boss loot from the dungeon, Burriza’s Blade. It was a sinister looking one-handed sword that carried a curving four-foot-long blade styled and shaped like a bear’s tooth. He had first drooled when he saw the stats: 215 Damage with + 10 to Power. Why couldn’t Burriza drop two of them! he cursed. His Double-Bladed Axes barely had 135 weapon Damage and didn’t come with any stat power ups. He checked his stats with the blade equipped. Tiqpa Character Screen.

  - Name: Darwin

  - Job Class: Soul Knight

  - Power: 123 + 40

  - Speed: 123 + 25

  - Vitality: 87 + 25

  - Spirit: 51 + 0

  - Concentration: 82

  - Phys Damage Res: 44%

  - Elemental Damage Res: 42%

  - Increased Speed: 29.6%

  - Maximum Hit Points: 1430

  I don’t know what my Race is, but it is so rigged. I never have to pick between physical and magical resistances, or HP and Damage. My Race needs a nerf. That said, the importance of items versus stats is definitely evident. With just a few good items my stats are way higher than they should be. Oh well, time to stop gawking and get to work. I’ve only got an hour or so until the townspeople are going to be waiting for me.

  He went out north to where he had heard of lowbies hunting Ogres. Their levels weren’t high initially, barely reaching level 15, but their HP and Damage were supposedly very high. That was for the better though--he needed scalable mobs.

  He rushed at the first one with his Burriza’s Blade, but as soon as it saw him, it swung a wide arc at Darwin. Darwin dodged back and tried to get in again, but once more the wide arc came at him. He knew if he kept dodging back and trying to dash forward before the Maul the Ogre was carrying came swinging back, he’d probably never get in close enough for a swing though, so this time he dove, sliding face first under the Maul’s arc like a baseball player reaching for home plate. It worked. No Damage. The problem was he couldn’t stand up fast enough and the Ogre swung his Maul straight down at him, forcing him to roll to the side and do a pushup to pop up before the second Maul hit the ground right where he had been lying. Crap, what now? he thought, moving an inch to the side while the monstrous ten-foot Ogre began his horizontal Maul attack again. Screw it! Closing the distance as fast as he could with his Burriza’s Blade aimed right at the Ogre’s throat.

  Critical Hit! You have done 615 Damage!

  You have gained 1 Soul Charge.

  You have gained 15 EXP.

  615? Wow, he actually has
Damage reduction. That hit should have done 984 Damage. Darwin thought, impressed with his choice of monster. Even at only 615, it was still enough to count as fatal Damage.

  Darwin then activated his Racial Skill, Demonic Command, for the first time and used it on the dead Ogre. It caused the Ogre to shrug off its fatal wound and stand back up as if it had never been hit in the first place. And they made fun of me for my red eyes as a kid. He smiled at the creation. The Ogre did indeed look just like it had when he first approached it except for one crucial detail. It now had a strange tattoo-like pattern over its left eye and its eyes had changed from brown to red. Is it a Zombie? Can the Ogre finally realize it needs a brain?

  Please name your Monster.

  Name him ZombOgre01

  ZombOgre01 has been successfully named.

  Add ZombOgre01 to Party.

  ZombOgre01 has been added to your party.

  Darwin inspected ZombOgre01 in the Party Window, Level 14+5. Not bad, but not where he needed him to be. He captured another Ogre, ZombOgre02, and then decided since he still had time before the meeting, he would make the most of it. Between when he started and when he left he had managed to raise ZombOgre01 and ZombOgre02 to level 27+5 each. Since the soul charges built at a rate of one per kill no matter what he killed, he had taken the two ZombOgres to kill small woodland creatures as quick as he could gather them. Sometimes killing as many as a dozen in a minute if he could reach them quick enough. Every swing of the blade was a kill.

  The most amusing part though was the faces of the townspeople and remaining Guards when they saw him approaching with two red-eyed Ogres. Before they had spotted him and his two companions, they were just standing around, silent as if speaking was a sin and smiling was blasphemy, but when they saw him their faces lit up, just not with a smile. Instead it was a pale panic that spread through them at the sight of his two ZombOgres approaching.

  “Umm, Sir. Are you sure it’s safe to be traveling with that type of company?” Justin Yoo said, the first to voice the concern that the group was sharing.

  “These?” Darwin said, looking at the two ZombOgres and then back at the few hundred townspeople carrying belongings and the seven Guards that remained of Valcrest, unsure of what to say to put their minds at ease. Then he decided to just wing it and just explain properly, “These are my slaves, can’t you see their red eyes now? Their souls are mine.”

  The whole group broke out in whispers. Darwin couldn’t catch them all, but he definitely heard a few pieces that made him frown. “He’s the devil who killed an entire army of White-Horns with just a Spoon?” “So it really is him, the hero of the Spoon.” “Look at the red eyes! He really did steal their souls . . .” they kept whispering among each other. I’m right here you know? I can hear you . . .

  “Quiet!” one of the Guards whose name he didn’t know spoke up, silencing the crowd. “The Captain has commanded us here for a reason, and I’m sure he doesn’t want us burning daylight jibber-jabbering. Now file in, stay quiet, and await orders. I don’t want to be here when night falls, and I don’t want the Spoon King upset because we were too rowdy.”

  Darwin was about to complain about the new nickname, the Spoon King, but the Guard had done it. He had silenced the crowd and even gotten them to tighten up and even stand taller.

  “Whats your name, soldier?” Darwin asked, deciding it was best he capitalize on this Guard’s charisma.

  “Alex, Captain,” the tall young Guard said, standing at attention. “Second Lieutenant of the Western Scout’s Division.”

  “Alex. This is where we are heading. Take your Scouts and put a formation around the townspeople during the trip to make sure they don’t get attacked or hurt along the way. If anyone goes missing or gets lost, make sure they make it to this location by nightfall.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As for the rest of you, sorry your town is gone, but you need to trust me when I say we can’t stay there. That group broke the only semblance of defense Valcrest proper had, and other groups will come to clean up what they didn’t kill. We can try to get the rest of your belongings in the future, but it’s in everyone’s best interest if we don’t show up on anyone’s radar for the moment. Now, does anyone have any questions or complaints with that?”

  No one said a thing. They all knew it. It was one more reason on top of the dead family and friends that when he had approached them they had looked like a funeral procession more than a mob of townspeople. The air was still sick with bleak sorrow at the loss they had just suffered, but at the very least Darwin was determined to take away their fear.

  Qasin:

  The King stood alone on the battlefield surrounded by scores of dead Black-Wings. The bodies of countless dead Vampires, Dragonwings, Succubi and Incubi littered the battlefield, and the King found himself truly happy for once. No soldiers were lost. No men were killed. My Kingdom is safe, the battle is won and not a single life has been lost, save for these poor wretches.

  “Well fought, Your Majesty,” Anthony said to the King who was still admiring his handiwork.

  “We’re not here to win a war. We’re here to win peace and an ally,” the King responded. “Now, fetch me a towel.”

  “I’m not sure slaughtering their people by yourself is the right way to go about it.” Anthony squirmed as he stepped over the dead bodies. He does that a lot. One thousand and thirty-five men died because of that fool’s betrayal, and yet he squirms and twists at the sight of blood? Pathetic.

  “I couldn’t move my own troops. It would have given them a hole in our defensive line to attack through,” he reasoned, taking the towel from the messenger and wiping the sweat off his face before using the towel to clean the blood off his swords. “This was the only way to do it.”

  “I meant I don’t think it’s in your best interest to kill them. It’ll be harder to get them to ally with you.”

  “A man is less likely to sell his house when his finances are good and stable. He must either experience a windfall or a loss. A windfall will promise them greener pastures than their home currently offers, and the loss will make them look for fixes wherever there are fixes to be made. In terms of a Kingdom there is no windfall. Kings don’t often sell land to acquire more of it. That leaves me only one option--to hand them a loss.”

  “Your Majesty is saying that their Kingdom is the house, and you mean to have them sell it?”

  “You could say that.”

  “But what if you die in battle? Would that not be dire for the Kingdom?” Anthony asked.

  “It’s not likely. The Black-Wings were fearsome on the field because of their ruler, the Black Dragon who united them in ages past. The fools, in their brilliance, deposed him. Now, their strongest is no tougher than the capital’s Knights, and their ruler is a council of baby whelps, Vampires and Incubi.”

  They deposed him at the same time I was supposed to be deposed. I haven’t received word yet, but it seems they also deposed the Axe-King around that time too. Were all the monarchs supposed to fade into oblivion at the same time? Were we who forged the Kingdoms and united our races to die at the hands of the very people we serve? All so that a few people could gain power at the cost of hundreds of lives? the King thought.

  “Then why does Your Majesty wish them to be an ally?”

  “Because I cannot be everywhere at once, and I might be deposed myself one day. Before that happens I must unite these lands until the only wars it sees are silly merchant conflicts over lumber prices.”

  “I understand. Then I shall pray to the god of war for your success in battle.”

  “Thank you. Now, about the Black-Wing Messenger the Council was using to conduct their dirty business. Did you manage to locate him?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I can arrange a meeting at your convenience.”

  “Good. Set up a rendezvous at the end of the week, and pick one of their border towns to do it in, a few days east of where we are now. I need to hand them a few more losses before we m
eet. Also, arrange for the Scouts to finish the report on the White-Horns. It’s urgent that I am brought up to speed before the meeting.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Anthony said, bowing before he departed. The King had grown accustomed to only talking through Anthony as of late. Given how many soldiers and Guards in the capital must have known something of the Council’s plans, and none had reported anything, he was slowly starting to distrust everyone. But not Anthony. With the man’s daughter and wife held conveniently under his protection, he knew he could trust Anthony no matter how spineless the poor boy turned out to be.

  He started walking east to where the next battlefield awaited him--where he could kill again. He had suppressed his smile while Anthony was around--it wasn’t very kingly after all--but the thought of the fight to come brought it back to his face. I will kill them, and spare my people. I will murder them so that my men will never have to die for petty politics again. If I kill enough of them, then my Kingdom will never see its armies march to their deaths again.

  Valerie:

  Valerie took a deep breath before she dove again. The missions she had been assigned, to clean up the heretics South of the town, kept respawning two to three times a day. The problem was she couldn’t get any NPCs to join her. Two players, Daniel and Mclean, were the only members in her party helping her out. They didn’t join her because she was a Herald of the Dawn; they joined her because she was the only one with a quest when they were about to fly off.

  “So, if you’re a Herald, how come you don’t have any NPCs with you to help us out?” Danielle asked, unknowingly rubbing salt in Valerie’s wound.