Active spell slots remaining: 7 of 8.
“Was everyone successful?” Coleus asked, examining the players clenching the air with their fists.
The group mooed something resembling an answer and I guess our lack of enthusiasm finished off the instructor completely because he waved at the rack of musical instruments behind him and sat down on a bench with a despondent expression on his face.
But my eyes lingered on the rack he’d indicated. I instantly fixed on the lute when another player named Pickle grabbed the instrument by the neck—causing it to utter a pitiful whimper—and snatched it off the rack. I almost got upset before I noticed something strange: The lute remained on the rack, while its copy was now in the hands of Pickle. Perhaps my puzzlement was so evident on my face that another player with a mohawk of gray-green leaves on his head butted in to explain:
“Each player gets his own copy of the instrument. There’s enough for everyone.”
He was one of those who had completed the spellcasting training by the time I showed up. And as he spoke, he placed the same lute on the rack, causing it to vanish without a trace. He reached for the oboe next—though judging by his face, in his mind, anything from oboe to French horn could simply be called a ‘pipe.’
“What do you play?” I inquired, jumping at the chance to strike up a conversation with a fellow player. Like all the others, Agave the Green had not chosen his class yet.
“That’s the problem. Nothing,” Agave confessed and looked doubtfully at the oboe in his hands. “But I still want to try playing as a bard.”
“I feel you,” I replied. I picked up the lute and immediately almost dropped it on the floor.
The cause of this was Agave who had blown into the oboe with all his might. The poor instrument uttered a revolting sound like a tomcat who’d had his tail trodden on just as he was serenading his cat girlfriend. If you take into consideration the creative endeavors of the other players trying out their instruments…I couldn’t help imagine being the NPC instructor and having to listen to this cacophony day after day. Judging by his sour face, it wasn’t a fun time. I’d even say it was hellishly awful.
Sympathizing with the poor fellow, I finally read the notification that had appeared some moments earlier.
Item acquired: Common Lute. Two-handed item. Durability: Unbreakable. Description: Used by bards for performance. Item class: Common.
Attention! You cannot remove this item from the training area.
And that’s it? No bonuses? By the Pasta and the Sauce…
Readjusting the lute in my hands, I strummed an arpeggio, checking its sound. Look at that. It’s in tune! Targeting a training dummy, I activated the Magic Missile spell in my mind and began to play the first thing that came to me—a tune called ‘Goldentown.’ Four seconds later, a shimmering rainbow arrow flew from my strings, striking the motionless dummy without any issues.
8 damage done. (Magic Missile Damage ÷ 1 (Target Level ÷ Character Level)) × 2 (Natural Environment damage bonus).
Skill increase:
+10% to Intellect. Total: 10%.
What’s this then? A short dive into the guides revealed that depending on what I did, I could boost one or several of my stats. For example, casting spells boosted my Intellect. When the boost reached 100% it would permanently increase my Intellect stat and reset to 0%. I wonder whether I’ll need the boost to reach 400% when it comes to increasing Constitution. I’ll need to check. And anyway it would do to examine all my stats. So what do I have right now?
I’ve got 3 in Constitution, which means I have 30 HP. My Intellect is at 2 and that grants me 20 MP. Everything else is at 1.
It’s odd how few stats there are in this game. There’s neither wisdom, charisma nor luck. And I was especially fond of the last two, since they made the game unpredictable and interesting. But I guess I have to work with what I have. I returned to the guide to study what it had to say about the main stats.
My main stat was Intellect. This determined the magic damage I would do as well as my mana pool and the rate at which my mana regenerated. At first glance, I didn’t really need Strength and Agility, but Constitution determined my life pool and the rate at which I spent and regenerated Stamina. It follows that Stamina is like an analog for action points. Almost everything costs Stamina, from running to playing the lute. This is no good. I’ll need to come up with some alternative way for leveling up Constitution. But that’s for later. Now, I need to estimate what kind of combat potential I have.
A few brute calculations brought me to a disheartening conclusion: In the best of circumstances, I might be able to handle a mob of my level, after which I’d have to wait for my mana and life to recover. Yeah. This bard class is definitely a bit underpowered. I’ll have to find a party and figure out a way to gain at least one level in the city. Then dump everything in Intellect and try to kill mobs before they reach me. Or first grind Intellect and Constitution by some alternative means and only then wander outside of the secure area.
An ear-shattering bang right beside me caused me to jump where I stood. I was seized with the sudden urge to crawl under one of the benches. At the same time, a five-minute long disorientation debuff, indicated that Barliona had some undocumented features. The spellbook said nothing at all about disorientation. Strictly speaking, this thought only occurred to me once the debuff had expired and my thoughts stopped wandering all over the place.
The source of the hellish clamor was Pickle, who’d swapped his lute for a timpani. Even though it wasn’t very large in Barliona, a mere thirty centimeters in diameter, the noise the drum made was much louder than I expected. On top of this, Pickle was hammering the poor instrument with such violence that I could only assume he’d imagined the timpani to be some mortal enemy standing in his way.
At this point, two of the remaining players cursed colorfully, declared the whole thing a dolt circus and left the tent. I noticed that the instruments in their hands went up in smoke as they stepped out. By this point, our ranks had thinned significantly: More than half of the original players had left the training ground—I suppose to seek better deals from the other class instructors.
Meanwhile, the effect produced from his beating of the drum left such an impression on Pickle that he immediately decided to repeat his fortissimo. But barely had he brandished the mallets above his head when a captivating strain from a clarinet filled the tent and a shimmering blue sphere appeared around him. It took me five seconds to realize that the sound wasn’t coming from the timpani. It was Coleus who was playing the clarinet and, it seemed that his spell blocked any sound coming from Pickle. Interesting. So it follows that a bard can be disarmed with a counterspell.
Pickle to his credit noticed the sphere too. Leaving the timpani alone, he tried to step out of it, but the magical shimmering moved with him. Pickle’s lips began to move mutely but what he was saying remained a mystery. I bet there’s plenty of girls out there that’d pay good money for a spell like that…
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle…Wish I had one of those for my mother-in-law,” said a voice behind my back.
“What, does she drive you nuts?” Someone else inquired sympathetically.
“Nah—she just sits at home all day, doesn’t have anyone to chat with, so in the evening she starts calling,” the unfortunate husband explained his sorrow. “I mean, she’s a worldly old bat and all, but you just can’t shut her up when she gets rolling.”
“Ah, well, that’s still not the end of the world…” rattled a third voice and here the discussion of family matters drew to a close.
Pickle, meanwhile, realized the cause of the spell he’d been cursed with. He made a show of placing the timpani on the floor, at which point it simply vanished. Coleus put away his clarinet and simultaneously the sphere around Pickle vanished too.
“What the hell?” the player asked outraged.
“Music,” Coleus replied in a mentorly tone, “is not noise. A bard must first know what he wis
hes to achieve with his performance. For instance, if there were a pirc, an elf or a drow nearby—your performance would have required the intervention of a healer. Those creatures cannot bear loud and strident sounds. Despite its seeming simplicity and allure, the way of the bard has its disadvantages. One peril is unexpectedly finding yourself turned into a scratching post. A pleasant idea, don’t you think?” He looked around his silent audience.
“Please be cautious around irritated nobles and rich people,” the instructor went on enumerating the perils we faced on our journey to fame. “Rogues, pirates, and warlike tribes. Every one of them may thank you from the bottoms of their hearts—or to the contrary, send your spirit to the Gray Lands. So don’t tempt fate unnecessarily.”
“In other words if you don’t know how to play an instrument, choosing a bard is pointless,” Pickle summarized.
“Let’s put it this way: I doubt anyone will find you very valuable,” Coleus restated.
“What a dumb class for a bunch of dumb nerds,” Pickle rendered his verdict and proudly stepped out of the tent.
The rest of the stragglers followed his example and a sacred silence descended on the tent. Finally, I could practice in peace. My fingers touched the strings and the lute’s clear notes swept across the tent. Not bad the acoustics in this place. You could easily play a concert here. But that’s still a ways away. For now, what do I have to do for today?
A song of healing. I drag the spell to the active spells, activate it, play and enjoy the results. The spell poured into the training dummy and my Intellect grew by 10%…Okay. And if I want to heal myself? Same thing. No problem. What about Coleus?
Having exhausted my mana and raised my Intellect bar by 50%, I grew bored. The paltry arsenal of spells had been learned and there was nothing else to do. Is this it? All of the bard babble ends with this nonsense? ‘Now you are ready, my young Padawan, go crush some mobs…?’ Seems a bit dull. I was expecting more. I should ask my teacher whether he’s not perhaps wasting his time.
“Say, Coleus, what’s next?” I asked, sitting down beside the bard. Looking at him, I didn’t want to be overly formal or shower him with compliments. He smelled of dusty roads, voyages and bonfires. “So I mastered a couple spells but so what? Surely the point of the bard lies elsewhere. We travel the world, collect tales and share them with others. We’re wanderers, seekers of adventure—not mages with guitars and trumpets.”
The biota’s face filled with the expression of a teacher pleased by his student’s progress.
“I am happy that someone understands this. For a bard, knowing how to tell a tale is much more important than weaving some spells together. If you really want to become a true bard, prove that you can captivate an audience. Travelers frequently have to travel lightly, earning their bread in city squares, taverns and even palace functions. If you manage to earn twenty silver pieces before dawn—by playing in front of an audience—come back to me to continue your education.”
I grinned unwillingly. This was pretty much the way Ash, my music teacher, had taught me how to play. Thanks to his method, I had no stage-fright whatsoever.
Quest chain available: A Bard’s Calling.
A Bard’s Calling. Step 1: Earn at least 20 silver pieces with your performance. Quest type: Class-based. Reward: +30 XP, +10 Reputation with the Biota, and a Bard’s Bag. Deadline for completing the quest: Before dawn. Penalty for declining the quest: 30 days until the quest chain can be restarted.
Hah! Easy as pie! And it was only once I’d accepted the quest that I recalled a small but important detail.
“It’ll be my pleasure, but what am I supposed to play if this lute vanishes as soon as I leave the tent?”
“Head over to Pirus the Luthier and tell him that I sent you. You can choose whatever instrument you like. Only make sure to choose wisely. If you want to change it, you’ll have to pay the luthier the full price of the instrument and his work isn’t cheap.”
It wasn’t that simple to find the luthier. I didn’t feel like wasting time on finding Amaryllis first, so I asked the first NPC I came across. The biota happily explained that I need to reach the Branch of the Craftsmen and it took me another few moments to realize that there was a small problem here too: I had no idea how to use the leafevators. I didn’t want to appear dumb chasing after the polite NPC who had helped me, so struggling against my vertigo at the sight of the ground far below me, I stepped onto one of the leaves docked beside the branch. The vertigo was too much and I was forced to take a seat and think what to do. Amaryllis hadn’t uttered any code phrases during our first ride and I could see no operating lever, so I had to try something else.
It occurred to me that the tech employed in Barliona delved fairly deeply into the human mind. This was how the system determined when someone was telling the truth or lying—or could, for instance, find someone an attractive imitator in the local bordello. How did I know all this? The debates and protests about this issue had been broadcast across our entire planet. Human rights activists complained about the invasion of privacy and claimed this was a violation of human rights, while the Barliona Corporation claimed that its employees could not access the system and you could just as well accuse lie detectors of the same violations. On the whole there was a big ruckus, but afterward everything went quiet quickly. The players saw the advantages quickly and did not object to the mental scanning that made the game more interesting. It was now my turn to check out the new tech.
Getting a bit more comfortable in the leaf, I squashed my desire to adopt the lotus pose and do some meditation—especially since it wasn’t like I could contort myself into a lotus pose if I wanted it—and focused as clearly as possible on my desire to reach the Branch of the Craftsmen. To my astonishment the leaf moved and smoothly drifted toward one of the branches.
Achievement unlocked: ‘Flying Vessel Level 1’ (19 flights in transport leaves remaining until next level).
Achievement reward: +1% to transport leaf movement speed.
You can see the list of achievements in the character settings.
I bet it’s a real thrill to be taken on a whimsical tour of the Tree when you really need to get somewhere. I hadn’t grown tired of the landscape yet, though, and savored the view the entire way.
Master Pirus looked like a luthier from a movie about some ancient violin—he was gaunt, sinewy and he moved quickly around his workshop examining everything with engaged, glinting eyes. When it came to me, the look he gave me was full of unconcealed doubt. I could understand him—when a tree is full of wandering biota with extremely dubious manners, it makes sense to regard every new face with suspicion.
“Choose whatever you like from the rack,” he pointed in the direction of a rack beside the entrance, stocked with the most basic instruments. “My students’ work.”
Oh sure. Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, but render to a janitor the things that are a janitor’s. Casting a longing glance in the direction of a grandiose rack upholstered in ermine and proudly displaying instruments that just by their appearance alone would cause any musician to salivate, I looked over at the assortment offered to me.
“This one,” I didn’t bother tarrying with my selection and pointed at the lute closest to me. I mean, it didn’t have any cracks, the action looked decent, so it would do as a start. Either way it would be better than what I’d started with—my first performance irl had been on a devastated acoustic with a pencil for a saddle.
Item acquired: Student’s Lute. Two-handed item. Durability: Unbreakable. Description: Used by bards for performance. Item class: Common. -25% to casting time for Bard Spells when equipped by a bard.
Attention! This item cannot be traded.
Ah! A faster casting speed! So it’s not that basic of a lute after all. I should pump Pirus for info on how I could get one of his own instruments, though something tells me that I’d need more reputation and a whole lot more gold than I have. Plus I got this countdown timer ticking. Dawn�
�s coming and I need to get on with my first quest!
The square in the Market Branch was bristling with flower-tents among which vendors and customers milled buying and selling. An enormous orchid grew in the very center, serving the function of a fountain. Various biota would go up to it, scoop up its water and drink thirstily. What a healthy ecological set up. If they tried this in my city, they’d wither up in an instant.
An unusual spectacle dispelled my ruminations on the fate of my planet: A pirc had appeared among my tribesmen. A furry, snow-white giant named ‘Spiteful Chip’ walked along the square, grimly examining the biota around him as if he was choosing a side for his entree. He was wearing green pants and a hooded jerkin, boots that laced up to his knees, and mittens with cuffs on his hands (or would paws be more correct here?). A bandoleer girded his chest and a rucksack hung from his back. Yet perhaps the most curious element of this creature’s outfit was his hat. It resembled a bycocket—that is, Robin Hood’s hat—that bore a bob and a feather from a bird I was not familiar with. It was truly a silly bit of clothing for such a terrible monster.
The pirc, like the other players of whom there were many here, roved busily between the various market stalls, trying to sell something and at the same time examining the NPCs’ wares. Every once in a while, players would approach the giant, ask him something, receive a curt reply and walk away quickly. I couldn’t hear what was said—the pirc was too far away—but I figured that the players were trying to recruit him to be a tank in their party. Judging by Chip’s face—such offers had long since begun to grate on him.
“Have they lost the plot here the lot of them?” exclaimed a biota necromancer named Prickly Sloe beside me. Not a bad name, by the way, especially in view of the branches sticking out of his head. I could not say the same for his companion—Girasol the Majestic. Where this person had encountered a majestic artichoke remained a mystery to me.
The Renegades Page 4