“It’s not easy being a Player Killer,” I finally tell those gathered. “Most people turn me away.”
“You knew about this before you chose your class, did you not?” the governor asks.
“I knew. I’ve been around the block.”
“And why is it that you chose to become a Player Killer?”
I glance over to him. The NPC icon over his head flashes green then blue. An RPC?
Reborn Player Characters carry all the traits of the real-world people they were before they died, from personal tastes to behavioral patterns. They are literally digital replicas of their former selves.
“Ever heard of Ducat?” I ask.
“I have.”
“I was the founder of that village, in … ” I glance to the guard next to me. “In another time. A guild of PKers known as the Drachma Killers destroyed my town and killed everyone.”
“Did they kill you?”
“No.” I swallow hard. “I killed me. I was afraid of how they’d torture me.”
“I see.” Governor Talonas’ attendant starts to speak and he silences him. “So you committed suicide to save yourself from being tortured by them, yes?”
I take a deep breath. “I did.”
He considers this for a moment and gestures for me to continue.
“So for my next incarnation, I chose to be a Player Killer because of the attribute bonus tied to Infamy.”
“Five kills gets you one bonus attribute point,” he adds.
“Yes, you know.”
“You can always change your class. That, or do something so bold and noble that the people of the south are no longer afraid of you.”
“That was never my original intention. My original intention was to grow as strong as possible and destroy each and every Drachma Killer. But then everything I’ve just told you happened and, well, the old lady who saved me was a Player Character. She selflessly gave her game life to keep me alive, and there I was consumed by revenge.”
“Revenge is a hungry ghost that will never be satisfied.”
I bite my lip and stare at Governor Talonas for a moment. “Regardless, I will still get my revenge. For now, there are more important things to see to. I will liberate the people of Tangka.”
“That’s … that’s suicide!” The advisor to his left says aloud.
“Then let it be my suicide.” I think of how I ended things last time – at least this death will be worth something.
Chapter Twenty: A Much-Needed Bath
My favorite part of most stories, games, and movies is when the protagonist armors up; yet it’s rare that this trope-heavy scene actually plays out in my own virtual narrative. Usually, “armoring up” is a drawn-out process that takes tons of grinding, a good deal of lira – and even if you have both those things going, you need some connections to really find the good stuff.
That said, Governor Talonas has spared no expense in making me a badass.
Armor: Stater Armor Set (chest plate, gauntlets, leg armor)
Grade: A
Weight: medium light
Def: +69
---
Weapon: St. Lucia’s Buster Sword
Grade: A
Weight: heavy
Attack: +45
---
Weapon: St. Lucia’s Crossbow Pistol
Grade: A
Weight: light
Attack: +19
Speed: +7
Not bad at all. I give my stats a quick peek now that I’ve upgraded my gear.
Oric Rune
Class: Level 9 Player Killer
Subclass: Level 3 Herbalist
INFAMY: 45 Players killed
HP: 1013/1013
HP recovery rate: 2% per minute
ATK: 139 +45
DEF: 151 +69
Attributes
STRENGTH: 10
WILL: 10
DEXTERITY: 10
MIND: 6
SPEED: 5
Things are looking up.
With my hand over my brow to block the sun, I take a quick look at the eastern part of Stater, which is known for its seafruit plantations. Seafruit trees grow from shallow bodies of water and are tipped in pink flowers with bright-yellow pistils. They are about the size of a cantaloupe when ripe and their taste is both sweet and salty, which makes them a perfect ingredient for everything from wine to candy.
Governor Talonas’ mansion overlooks one of the plantations, which are managed by a rotating group of fishermen that patrol the waters with nets attached to large sticks. If they sense activity, they jam the sticks under the water and try to pull up whatever sea creature is disturbing the plants.
I whistle. “Come on, Wolf!”
He tears out of the tall grass that surrounds the mansion, leaps into the air and catches a dragonfly in his mouth.
The guard accompanying us laughs. “He’s just like a real dog.”
I start to give him a “that’s a stupid statement” look, but then I recall several times in which I felt the very same thing. Wolf runs up to us, panting with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. The dark color of his fur isn’t the best match with the brightness of the sun over Stater Island.
“Soon,” I tell him as I pat him on the head. “We’ll get you bathed and groomed.”
We step into a courtyard with a private pool and manicured shrubbery shaped into perfect spheres. Everything is angled, akin to artsy Swedish furniture, and as I take in the surroundings, from the poolside seating to the double chaise with a canopy, I hardly notice the two stocky men approach us from the other side of the entrance.
“We’re here for him,” one says as he nods to Wolf. The two men are clearly twins, and by the looks of the shears on their belt, they mean business.
Wolf drops his head and bares his teeth. One of the twins produces a piece of jerky and Wolf is pretty much good to go after that.
“Damn, you sell out easy,” I say as they lead him away.
With the beautiful courtyard as a backdrop and the sun ever bright above us, I suddenly realize just how dirty and unkempt Wolf actually is. Parts of his coat are dreadlocked and he’s lost several chunks of hair on his rump thanks to shedding.
“Do I get groomers too?” I ask. Again with my slyness. I really am afraid to hear what will come out of my mouth next time I put more points into MIND.
“You could definitely use it,” the soldier says as we enter the mansion. “You smell like swamp ass.”
A beautiful woman stands at the top of a spiral stairwell with a few towels over her shoulder. The brunette has her hair tied into a ponytail and she wears what I would describe as a low-cut tunic. She waves and I look to the soldier, who now has a cheek-to-cheek grin on his face.
“Before we – I mean, I – get to my grooming,” I say, “can we go back to town and possibly to a weaponsmith?”
“We have one here on the property,” he tells me. “He lives in the quarters out back.”
“Even better.”
“But, um, maybe you should get cleaned up first.”
“I have the rest of the day to lounge around in a tub,” I tell him. “I need to see about my weapon.”
“Your weapon?”
I nod and keep it at that.
“Suit yourself. Follow me.”
I wave goodbye to the woman at the top of the stairs. The soldier and I move through a great living space filled with comfortable leather seating, expertly crafted and carved wood paneling, and a black bearskin rug centerpiece.
From there we head through a kitchen featuring arabesque tiling and an attached wine cellar. Out the back door we go, where I immediately hear the clink and clank of metal on metal contact.
Even though the sky is crimson overhead, the sun is still blazing, and it seems as if the temperature is at least ten degrees hotter here on Stater Island than it is on the mainland. I wipe sweat away from my forehead as we approach the weaponsmith. He’s a short guy, likely a dwarf-human hybrid, with a pair of mu
tton chops and a nose the size of a woman’s fist.
“The name’s Brunas,” he tells me in a jovial voice. “I see you’re the governor’s guest, and I’m here to help however you’d like.” He reaches his big paw out and grips mine firmly. A green icon flashes over his head, an NPC.
“Oric,” I tell him.
“Nice to meet you, Oric. What can I do for you?”
I take a step back and unsheathe my St. Lucia Buster Sword. It is about the length and width of an ironing board, comically large yet somehow appropriate here in Unigaea.
“A fine piece, and I should know; I recently worked on it.” He scratches his right mutton chop. “Which is why I’m wondering why you’ve brought it to me.”
“Can you … ” I think of how I should phrase this.
“Can I what?”
“Can you splinter the end of the sword into three distinct pieces.”
Before he can react, I carefully outline how I’d like it to look, much to his horror. He’s shaking his head long before I can finish my description.
“A sword should not splinter,” Brunas finally says, his brow furrowing. “It should not shatter, split, or break apart. It should always be at your side or across your back, ready at a moment’s notice to save you from the inevitable.”
“So you can’t do it?”
“I cannot do it, nor is it even possible for a sword to operate in that condition.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “How much would you like to wager that it isn’t possible?”
“Wager?” He chuckles and waves the bet away. “I’ll tell you what – if it is possible, and you can show me an example of such a weapon, you may use my services for free for life.”
“For life?”
“That’s how confident I am that it isn’t possible.”
“You’re on.” I turn to the soldier and grin, realizing how odd my next sentence will sound before it exits my lips. “I’m ready for my bath now.”
(^_^)
Tomorrow.
I could very well die in my quest to free the people of Tangka from the grip of the northerners. The Tagvornins, while not necessarily the strongest bunch, will have strength in numbers. I’ll need to go about my business at night – hell, maybe over the course of several days – just picking them off one by one, and that will still be difficult, especially if reinforcements arrive.
It’s going to be incredibly challenging, a bloodbath, and that’s if I’m lucky.
The woman at the top of the stairs leads me into the bath. She undresses me, runs her hand over some of the scars on my arms, comments on them softly as she helps me into a bathtub filled with bubbling water and moves in closer for something more.
“Later,” I tell her, suddenly fixated on what may lie ahead.
She lifts her washrag to my chest, smoothing it over my rough skin. The dirt that fills the bottom of the wash basin muddies the water. She laughs at this, drains most of it, and says little as she refills it. She comes in close and again I stop her.
The thought that Unigaea is an online world comes to me, mixes with another concept of my own humanity and why, when provided an opportunity to explore a side of me I don’t normally explore, I push it away. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. I’ve been with NPCs, both paid and ones I was romantically linked too, but now I’m not in the mood.
Ha! I laugh to myself. Since when is one not in the mood for free sex? Since now.
I relax my head, letting her shampoo and rinse my long brown hair. As she runs her fingers on my scalp, the last few days come to me in a series of flashes. From Deathdale tearing through the line of Solidus city guards by lifting her eye patch to the sea dragon that nearly killed Wolf … I see the meteors coming from the sky, the death mask of the bandit who died of smoke inhalation, the old woman …
The old woman.
Her note.
I suddenly want to know what she could have possibly written to her daughter. Even as I’m being scrubbed down with the potential for much more, I find myself consumed with curiosity about the old woman who died lying next to me, the blood drained from her body.
I must see what’s in that letter.
She cleans me, shaves me, cuts my hair, clips my nails, tries yet again to make an advance on me but I’m too distracted. “I want to read the letter,” I tell her instead of no.
Confusion spreads across her face. “The letter?”
“Hurry, dry me.”
She smirks. Her skin is soft, olive, perfect, her eyes like a sky on fire as she probes a little more, her fingers on the sides of my hips.
“Finish,” I tell her. “You can come back later, once I’ve figured some things out.” I sigh. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
She dries me with two large towels and brings me a fresh robe. After she spritzes me with something that smells like blue melon mixed with musk, I slip into the robe and get to my room as soon as she’ll let me pass.
Once I’m there, I find my pants, which she has folded and placed on the footrest of the bed.
Nothing. She must have emptied them.
I see the folded note on the desk and practically trip on my robe as I race over to it. The paper is stained with my blood and some sweat, but the text is still legible.
Player Killer,
If you should change your mind and decide to return to Tangka, it would be best to contact the leader of the Tangka Militia, Sam Raid. The militia has taken to the caves west of the city.
Yours,
July
My heart leaps into my throat as I read the letter again, as if a second read-through will contain a hidden message. “The letter was actually for me?” I shake my head as I try to put the pieces together.
The militia.
It is clear now who I need to find next, and what I need to do once I find them.
Quest update!
Through the old woman’s letter, you have discovered that there is a militia in the mountains west of Tangka led by someone named Sam Raid. See if you can find something to offer the militia that will help you win them over.
Nearly tripping over my flowing robe again, I run to the top of the stairs to find the sexy caregiver just about to walk out the door. “I need to get a message to Governor Talonas!” I cry out to her. “Can you deliver a message to him for me?”
She looks up at me and laughs again. “You sure are a peculiar man, Oric Rune.”
“I’ve been called worse. Can you?”
“Well, I was heading towards the governor’s mansion a little later … You know what? Sure, I’ll deliver it.” She pauses for a moment and finally asks, “Would you like me to return once I’ve relayed the message?”
“Not tonight,” I tell her, “but first thing in the morning would be delightful. I would love another bath; I really have no idea when I will be pampered in this way again.”
She smiles. “Good. What would you like me to say?”
“Tell him, or – shit, you won’t talk to him directly. Tell whoever you talk to that I’d like to see the governor before I set off. I have … some news regarding a group of men who may be able to help me bring Tangka back from the brink. Tell his attendants I will be there at ten.”
“And you’ll see me … ?”
“At seven,” I tell her. “First thing in the morning.”
She opens the door and jumps back as Wolf runs in, his hair trimmed, his coat fluffy, and a comical look on his face. He tears up the spiral staircase and leaps towards me.
“Shit!” I try to catch him and move the hell out of the way at the same time. He pins me and starts licking my face. The scent of seafruit wafts off his coat and even his breath smells minty fresh. “Good to see you too, Wolf, good to see you too.”
Chapter Twenty-one: Quiet Pirate Passage
Damn if sleeping in an actual bed for a solid ten hours isn’t great.
Before I dozed off, an attendant brought me a delicious spread of cheese, cured meats, and red wine. I feasted like a k
ing, gorging myself until I could barely walk. I let Wolf finish off the meat and cheese, which I have come to regret as the morning sun peeks through the white drapes.
“Phew!” I wave Wolf’s borborygmic aftermath away.
The damn dog is sprawled out on the bed and has taken most of the covers, leaving me to a tiny corner and a single throw pillow. I try to push him out of the bed with my feet and he playfully bites at me.
I briefly check my dashboard and see that it’s well after seven, which means my early morning bath and perhaps something more has been put on hold.
“Cut it out, Wolf!”
I hop out of the bed after he fires off another stink torpedo, practically crawl to the window, pop it open, stick my head out and inhale the largest breath of fresh air my lungs can handle. The gates below open up, and Governor Talonas walks into the courtyard, followed by a procession of guards and advisors.
“Up here!” I shout to them, and pop back in before they can see the goofy look on my face. “Remind me not to put any more attribute points in MIND,” I tell Wolf, who has again buried himself under the covers. “And no more cured meats for you. Or was it the cheese? Doesn’t matter. We’re sticking to your normal diet of, um, seagulls and leftovers.”
I keep my robe on and head down the spiral stairs, feeling as fresh as I’ve felt in weeks. Really, there’s nothing like an actual bed, and after so long sleeping in fields, under trees, with only rocks and Wolf’s body to prop my neck up against, I’ve never felt more ready to take on the day.
“I see you’ve gotten comfortable,” Governor Talonas calls up to me. He’s in a variation of yesterday’s getup: a red cape and a uniform that is the same color blue as the Stater armor. Setting his outfit apart are a pair of leather boots stitched together by thick, teal thread and knee guards with griffins stitched on them.
“It’s been a while.”
He grins and the green icon above his head flashes blue, reminding me he’s an RPC.
“Well, let’s get right to it then. I received your message last night and came here to discuss it with you.”
“The Tangka Militia has holed themselves up in the mountains west of Tangka,” I tell him without further ado, “and I’m planning on going there next.”
The Last Warrior of Unigaea Box Set: A Fantasy LitRPG Adventure Page 14