by Cube Kid
I wasn't surprised to hear all kinds of odd names. ReindeerGirl. Mr. Pasta. EnderLord80000, KraftyKreeper. As odd and varied as their appearances. Some had normal-sounding names, though. Harold. Alex. Jake. Rebecca. Sarah. Emma. Barnaby.
Anyway——
Seeing all these people made me recall something Kolb once said. In that game the humans used to play, there were these things called skins. A skin altered one's appearance. In the game world, a player could exist as pretty much anything. Knights. Wizards. Elves. Dwarves. Ninjas. Faeries. Princesses. Even animal people. So maybe some of these people used to be players from that game? After all, many of them talked just like the humans back home.
Even so, there were times when I couldn't understand what they were talking about. Some words I'd heard before yet didn't know the meaning of, like mod and server. Of course, there were many more I did understand. Quest. NPC. Dungeon. Loot. Boss. Armor. Stat. Looks like my time spent hanging around the Legion paid off somewhat.
One conversation in particular caught my attention. A dark dwarf was chatting up a girl with large, cat-like ears.
"Man, we really crushed that boss!" the dwarf exclaimed. "That stone golem didn't stand a chance! Honestly, the dungeons around here are way too easy!"
"Yeah, well, the patrols are another story," cat-ears said. "Those pigmen are pretty tough. What are they looking for, anyway? Why are there so many of them in this area? Maybe we should head back west. I'm sick of dealing with them every time we hit the plains."
(Note: she must have been talking about the very same monsters who are looking for Kolb. So he wasn't lying. He said they ambushed his clan mates before they even reached this place. But they probably aren't looking for a villager like me. Is that why he sent me?)
"Aww, come on!" the dwarf said. "Just think of the loot, huh? Every dungeon we've cleared so far has been absolutely loaded! Let's clear some more!"
Clearing my throat, I approached this odd duo.
"Err, excuse me. I'm a bit lost. Do you know where I could——"
The dwarf glared at me. "What do we look like, the Lost Legion?! Go ask one of them for help!"
"In fact, I just saw one." That was cat-ears. She pointed down a sun-filled street. "I thought I saw her go into that library over here." She drew closer and smiled. "I was a noob once, too. Don't worry, eh? You'll get the hang of it. Here's a little tip. The Lost Legion has a lot of codes, and its members must follow them at all times. One is protecting noobs from trolls, griefers and aggressive monsters. Another is offering assistance to any player who asks. So, whenever you see a Legionnaire, use this to your advantage."
The dwarf laughed. "Ah, what a sight! A high-ranking member of the Boss Wizards, handing out advice like an NPC in a starting zone!"
"It's his lucky day," she said with a shrug. "He caught me in a good mood." Then she gazed at the sky: storm clouds were growing quickly, signaled by ominous thunder and distant lightning above the mountains to the west. "All right," she said, "we are not going out in that. Remember last time?"
"Aye. Let's hit an inn and wait it out." The dwarf patted me on the shoulder. "Good luck, kid."
With that, the two took off, leaving me thoroughly confused. So the Lost Legion has a code of honor, huh? Seems like they forgot all about that when they first showed up at my village. Who are the Boss Wizards, anyway? Another clan? Well, I'd better hit that library. If someone from the Legion is there, they'll surely help me out. Hmm. If they really are in the Legion, why aren't they with Kolb?
Suddenly, a redstone torch practically lit up over my head. Library. I zoomed down the street, in the direction cat-ears had pointed, and spotted it immediately: The Quill & Feather.
It really is my lucky day, I thought, and glanced at the clouds. But I shouldn't push it. I don't feel like being turned into a witch just yet. Potion brewing is so boring. Hey. Wait a minute. Why is it called The Quill & Feather? Aren't quills and feathers pretty much the same thing?
The storm was already raging by the time I reached the door. That wasn't odd, that's just how it is in the Overworld. One second it's all sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and the next it's pouring rain, the lightning so frequent you can only cower indoors. And not due to thunder, or the chance of being struck, but knowing those hills are most likely filled with enough charged creepers to blast through an obsidian door.
As for the library's door, I burst through it like a human in Villagetown. Inside, only a single person could be found, and sadly, that person was no member of the Legion.
Nor was it Feathers. It couldn't have been. From what Kolb had told me, Feathers was not only a librarian, but a wizard who specialized in ancient lore and studied ancient objects; thus, based on this description, and judging by the name, I'd expected Feathers to be similarly ancient, with a huge white beard, bushy white eyebrows, billowing blue robes and a gnarled staff.
You know, a walking cliche of wizardly fashion.
However, the person who stood before me was nothing of the sort.
DAY 7—FRIDAY—UPDATE I
Upon seeing a girl with light green skin, thoughts of advanced crafting tables and saving my village once again vanished from my mind. Only a single question remained where countless others once stood, and that question flew automatically from my mouth:
"Are you a . . . zombie?"
She gave me the strangest look. "You've never seen a limoniad before?" At my obvious confusion, she added: "Ah. First time away from home, I take it. Well, you've come to the right place. I have a little something that just might suit you." She grabbed a tome off a nearby shelf and thrust it forward almost as if she were attacking me with a sword. "On the house," she said with a smile. "It'll do you some good to brush up on your mythology.
Great. As if I needed another book. With a mental sigh, I stared down at the dark red leather cover. Races of Aetheria.
"Oh," she said, "I'm Feathers, by the way."
She then gave me a lecture on how a limoniad is a type of nymph with ties to meadows; a nature being similar to elves, dryads, faeries. Which explained her skin color, hair color and bracelets of woven flower petals. As for the people with gray skin, they're called moon elves. The humanoid wolves are lupins. I'd already figured out dark dwarves because I heard some people talking about them back there in the street. (That, and I'm basically just really, really smart.)
Okay, enough of this, I thought. I'm on a quest, not some school assignment.
I glanced at the two strange-looking blocks nearby. When I'd first burst through the door, Feathers had been fiddling around with one of them. They didn't really look like that crafting table Kolb had shown me, but it was a solid start and way better than talking about faeries.
"So, what are those things?" I asked.
"Command blocks," she said, turning to them. "Picked them up at an auction on the cheap. In fact, I was the only one to place a bid. Everyone thought they were worthless because they don't appear to do anything. But I think that's only because no one knows how to operate them. They're over three thousand years old."
Fearing another lecture, I decided to get straight to the point: "How about an advanced crafting table? Do you have one of those?"
"Advanced crafting table? Oh. You mean aeon forge?" She smiled again. "Looking to do some real crafting, huh? You're in luck, then. I have one for sale. Only 2,500 emeralds, too."
When she said this, my mind shorted out due to the following two points:
① Only.
② 2,500 emeralds.
I almost wanted to inform her of proper trading etiquette: when stating the price of an item, ① and ② may never be used in the same sentence.
"Is there any way you can lower the price? Student discount, perhaps?" I did my best to look pitiful. "It's for a class project. Those teachers, they said I'd never pass Crafting VIII until I craft a powder keg." I wiped away imaginary tears. Sniffled. "No, without that table, I just can't go on!"
"Sorry," she said. "The price is
not negotiable. Do you know how in-demand those things are? No one knows how to craft them. Not anymore. It's a lost art. Which means there's a limited number of them left in the world. And every time someone carrying one slips and falls into a pool of lava, well, that number gets closer to zero."
So it's like that, huh . . .
Summoning all of my wit, I crafted the following response in my mind:
"I see."
That was all I had. Seeing all these weird people had taken a lot out of me. Nothing would have helped, anyway. She was clearly proud of her wares. I had one last idea, though.
Long story short, I left and came back minutes later with a piece of paper in my hand. Slapped that thing onto the floating carpet that served as a table. Boom, boom. (I didn't make that sound, although looking back, I should have, probably, for dramatic effect.)
"Nice try. By the way, you spelled approve wrong."
DAY 7—FRIDAY—UPDATE II
I roamed the streets after that. Forlorn. Wallowing in self-pity. Rubbing my chin as I thought about my situation.
Man, it's like my trading skills didn't help at all back there! That girl is clearly a pro. 2,500 emeralds. Do people actually walk around with that many? And why did Kolb give me so few? Was that really all he had?
By that point, my food bar was at two. There was a villager peddling bread nearby, so I traded 25 oak blocks for 5 loaves. A bad trade, but I didn't care. (Little did that guy know, the joke was on him. I would have traded the entire stack for one.)
Then I hit up a nearby shop. It specialized in arms and armor, judging by the signs. I don't know why I went in there. I guess I just needed information at this point.
The dwarven blacksmith didn't greet me. Actually, he flat-out ignored me. To him, I didn't exist. He clearly had a well-trained eye for low-level emerald-pinchers such as myself. Which was fine. I just wanted to look at the various sets, including leather, dyed red and enchanted with Fire Protection, and two full sets of diamond. I'd never seen armor of such quality for sale back home. Nor had I seen such prices. ♦8,000 for a diamond set.
So it's official, I thought. Around here, emeralds apparently grow on trees——err, drop from leaf blocks the same way apples do.
That was when I saw an endersteel breastplate. It was straight out of that book Max gave me. Diamond has nothing on armor like that. You could probably tank an enderdragon in that thing. I approached this wondrous item with slight disbelief, staring at it, gazing at it, studying it . . . it, and its ♦27,000 price tag.
This sight—of this masterfully-crafted piece of armor, just hanging there on that armor stand like some ordinary item, while costing such an obscene amount—seeing this undid the fabric of my existence. It destroyed my entire world. My carefully crafted little universe—so sheltered, so innocent—shattered, just like that. For it made me realize that my home village, at least compared to this place, is, for lack of a better word, a noobtown.
Seeing that armor, there was no doubt in my mind: I knew absolutely nothing of this world, and had nothing, was nothing.
But isn't that the exciting part? Isn't this what I've always wanted? There I was, a budding adventurer on the open road, surrounded by unknowns, nearly one hundred thousand blocks from home, five hundred emeralds to my name and a newfound desire for more.
I stood up straighter. Nodded to myself. I had to do this. No moping, no crying. My village was counting on me. Just me. Breeze was no longer here to hold my hand and neither was anyone else. But where would I begin? My diamond sword was only worth a small fraction of what I'd need. How could I possibly get enough to buy that table?
As I stood in the armor shop, pondering this question in dismay, I soon found that things often have a strange way of working out. For the answer to my problems walked right through the door.
DAY 7—FRIDAY—UPDATE III
The young man, with his tattered leather armor and beat up iron sword, approached the counter in a timid way, where he threw down an assortment of flowers. Blue orchids, daisies, morningcrest. Several others I didn't recognize.
The blacksmith beamed like a glowstone block. "Thank you! You don't know how much this means to me! Oh, it looks like I'll be able to craft that set of armor in time for the King's birthday after all! What a joyous day!"
Flowers used in a crafting recipe for armor?
I forgot about this immediately when the blacksmith threw down a pile of emeralds.
Whaaaaat?! Once more, my jaw felt heavy. That had to be at least 150, possibly 200, no: "250," the blacksmith said. "As promised."
Without any sort of response, the swordsman scooped the emeralds into his belt pouch, turned around, headed for the door. Then stopped. Right next to me. Turned slowly. Stared at me. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it and closed it again. A cube of sweat formed upon his brow, and at last he exhaled.
If I had to describe this person with a single word, that word would be lost. Looking into his eyes, that was all you could see. Perhaps he had only recently arrived in this world, whisked away like all the rest. Or perhaps he was still coming to terms with living here.
"H-hey," was what he finally said.
"Hey," was my reply. "Um . . . I have a question. Fearing the blacksmith might overhear me, I glanced over my shoulder before whispering: "Why did he give you so many emeralds for a bunch of flowers?"
A raised eyebrow. "You . . . don't know? It was a quest."
"Is that like a job?"
Another strange look. "Quests were one of the things included in the last server update." The more he spoke, the steadier his voice became." Most NPCs will give you one if you talk to them long enough. Especially in this town."
"So I just ask them about quests?"
"Something like that. Come here. I'll show you."
I trailed behind him as he approached the counter once more.
"This guy's looking for some work," he said to the smith. "Do you have anything he could help you with?"
"Why yes," the blacksmith said. "I'm looking for some glowmoss. You'll find some in a tomb to the southwest of here. The Tomb of the Forgotten King. Retrieve this rare crafting ingredient, and I will pay you most handsomely. 750 emeralds. "
Upon hearing this, my heart sank like a zombie in a waterfall. That was less than a third of what I needed. However——
The swordsman nudged me. "Take it," he whispered. "750 is pretty good, and dungeons are usually loaded with loot. The items you'd collect could be worth thousands."
Suddenly, zombie slowly sinking under a waterfall became zombie who chugged a Potion of Flying and was now dancing upon the clouds. "I accept," I said. "Just show me that dungeon, and I'll show you some glowmoss retrieved in record time."
"Glad to hear it," the blacksmith said. "Do you have a map? I can mark it for you." He took my map and added the Tomb's location.
"So I just go there and retrieve your glowmoss? That's it?"
The blacksmith smiled. "That's it! An easy task for a fine young warrior like yourself! Of course, before you take off, you'll be needing this." He slid a weird-looking item across the counter. "Best of luck, young man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a birthday present to craft. Armor fit for a king!"
I stared down at the bizarre object. I'd never seen anything like it before.
"What do I do with this?" I asked the human, whose name I still didn't know.
"Seriously? You don't know what a key is? Wow. Never thought I'd meet someone who knows less than I do . . ."
And so, I received another lecture. This time, about dungeons and keys.
"Dungeons were another part of the last server update," he said. "They can be anything now. From your typical underground maze, to a small castle or even an entire town. And here's the craziest part. They can't be modified. When you're in a dungeon, you can't mine anything, place anything. Often times, you need to use a key to open a dungeon's front door. Keys are usually provided by NPCs. Beyond that, monsters sometimes drop them."
; "I don't get it," I said. "Why can't dungeons be mined?"
"Because the Builders made them," he said. "If you could just run around mining everything, it would undo all of their hard work, right? Plus trolls could place obsidian blocks over the front doors to prevent noobs from entering. Besides, if you could just tunnel your way to the final boss without first dealing with the minions, puzzles and traps, what would be the point? Dungeons were built for the players to provide challenges, places to explore."
Wow.
Information overload.
But hey, I wasn't complaining. At least he wasn't calling me an NPC.
Although I didn't understand everything he said, I got the general idea. In a dungeon, you have to play by its rules: you have to explore it the way the Builders had intended. Who are the Builders, though? Why would they go out of their way to build places just to challenge other people? So mysterious.
I must have looked extremely confused, because the swordsman gave me that funny look again. "I'm guessing you used to play a lot of singleplayer," he said. "Was it your first time playing on the Aetheria server? You were connected, right? During the crash, I mean."
"Um, well, I . . . I mean, I . . ."
"How'd you even survive this long, anyway? Have you been hiding in this city the whole time?" When I failed to respond, he followed up with even more questions: "Um. Do you have amnesia or what? Like, do you even know about what happened? The crash? The event?"
I had no idea what he was talking about. Probably related to what the humans back home always kept arguing about. Interface this, MindLink that. A virtual world that turned real. Which meant he thought I was one of them. A person from Earth.
"I kind of don't really, um . . . err, I'm what some might call an NPC."
"Oh." What followed was the longest ten seconds of silence, until: "It's the outfit," he said. "I've never seen an NPC villager wearing something like that, so I just assumed . . . huh. Yeah. Feeling a little noob right now. Anyway, guess it's about time I made friends with an NPC." He smiled and extended a hand. "My name's Eto."