by Deck Davis
After collecting herbs and materials, an artificer could grind them into their essence. By placing essence into artificery holes, he could weave magic into anything.
Etta returned with a clump of red moss in her hand.
“Is this enough?”
“That’s great, thanks.”
“Here you go.”
Item received: Red Ruin Moss
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Watch.”
Tripp took out his deconstructor mallet. It looked like the kind of mallet that a chef might use to tenderize meat. It gave off a warm glow and its outlines were faintly blue.
He used it to hammer down the moss, and in four strikes he was left with a pile of red dust. He picked up a pinch.
“This is the essence of the moss. It’s what it looks like with everything else stripped away; no water, no waste. Just its inherent essence.”
He carefully dropped grains of it into the circular holes. When they were full, he smoothed them over with his fingers. This time he concentrated deeply, helped by his increased mind stat. He felt his artificery skill leave him as a warm energy, similar to the way a mage would cast a spell.
A rush of red light flooded the armor. When it dispersed, the armor was changed. It was still a dirty, blade-nicked silver color, except now parts of it had a blood-red hue.
Item Created: Steel Chestpiece of Red Moss Resistance
Effects: +50% resistance against red moss damage
He handed the armor back to her. “Here, put it on.”
Etta looked more excited than he’d expected. “What did you do?”
“Put it on. Give it a twirl and see.”
She fasted the chest piece back over her fur, then spun around like a catwalk model. The sunlight caught the red-hued parts, making them shine.
“Red moss resistance!” she said. “Wow. I can’t believe you can do that with a little bit of moss.”
“A little bit of moss…and hours and hours spent honing my skills, yeah. When you look at a painting you see the colors and the shapes, but you don’t see the skill that went into making it.”
“You’re comparing making armor to art?”
“Everything’s art if you need creativity and hard work to do it. Spells are an art. Killing is an art. Go watch players in the PVP arena and see all the ways they pound the hell out of each other, and you’ll appreciate it.”
“Thanks, Tripp.”
“No problem. Let me do the same for your shoulder bracers. Every bit of defense helps.”
He artificed Etta’s leather bracers to give them moss resistance and then handed them back to her. He wished he could do the same for his own steel armor set. He’d already filled its artificery slots when he turned it into the suit of Defenseweave.
He could remove the artificery if he wanted, but he wouldn't do that. Swapping it from armor that changed damage to health into something effective against moss? That wasn't a good trade.
“Hand me your sword,” he said.
She held up her curved blade. “My fire sword? No offense, Tripp, but I don’t want you messing with it. This is the rarest blade I have.”
“Give me any old sword. You must have something basic. You know, an iron sword you haven’t sold yet. Something like that.”
Etta opened her inventory bag. “Let’s see…”
After rifling through her possessions, she finally handed him a dagger. The blade was made from iron and duller than a butter knife.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged. “Sorry. After I do a quest and get loot, I sell all the rubbish stuff. Must have forgotten about this one.”
Well, sometimes an artificer had to work with what he had. Tripp used the red moss essence and this time placed it in the sole octagonal hole in the blade.
Item Created: Iron Dagger of Red Moss Damage
Effects: +25% damage against red moss creatures
“Here you go. Catch.”
He tossed the blade to her, and she caught it by the handle. “Hey! You know the rule about not running with scissors? Similar idea with throwing daggers.”
Tripp grinned. With a plan, with artificed items, he felt a little more prepared.
Etta twisted the blade handle in her hands, marveling over the shocks of red in the metal.
“You can make anything? Just like that? Or do you need cards? I heard people who make weapons have to learn from an NPC or find a crafting card or something?”
“Right, usually that’s true. When I got to the tin rank as an artificer it let me choose a specialty. I picked the option to create my own crafting cards. It means I can create things that aren’t programmed into Soulboxe yet.”
“Sorry, but I don’t believe that. How can you create something that doesn’t exist?”
“There’s an easy way to test it. Hand me the blade again.”
She gave him the red-hued dagger, which he tossed in the air, letting it spin a few times and then catching it by the handle. If his aunt, who had raised him after his mom died and his dad went to prison, were watching, she’d be horrified.
“If you could add any effect to this,” he said, “What would it be?”
“Anything?”
“Anything in Soulboxe. No…anything in your mind. Conjure up the craziest effect you can think of.”
Etta ran her fingers through the fur on her chin, and she sucked in her cheeks as she thought hard. She looked at the blade and then back at Tripp every few seconds.
“I want it to change color when enemies are nearby.”
“Seriously? I told you I can artifice anything. That’s what you pick?”
“Okay, I want the blade to summon a giant thirty-foot-high troll every time I stroke the blade.”
“Done.”
“For real?”
“Well, not quite. Kinda. Just watch.”
Tripp held the blade in his hands and he shut his eyes, and he imagined the dagger in rich detail in his mind. He pictured himself running his finger over the blade. He saw a monstrous troll spawning from its tip before standing before him, ready for orders.
When he opened his eyes, text drifted in front of him, and he held a card in his left hand.
Crafting card created: Red Moss Dagger of Troll Conjuration
[A small, iron dagger with increased damage against red moss-based enemies. When you stroke the blade, it creates a twenty-foot tall troll. Troll can be an ice, desert or mountain type. Troll may be hostile to the player.]
Materials needed to create:
- 1 dagger
- 7023 troll hearts
- Conjaa-doll essence
- 500 fresh manus veins
- 1 Crystallized manus bonding agent
Tripp couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the requirements to make the dagger. He handed the card to Etta. She took one look and then threw it on the ground.
“Over 7000 troll hearts? Do you know how hard it is to kill even 1 troll? And manus veins? Those things sell for 20 dollars each on the auction websites. Even gold-ranked miners rarely find them. If I had 500, I wouldn’t be making a god damn troll dagger.”
“That’s the point; I can think of anything and create a crafting card, but it doesn’t mean I could actually make it. That wouldn’t make any sense, would it? A tin-level artificer who can create insane things like troll-spawning blades.”
“I guess.”
“The requirements on the card I generate will get easier the more I level up my artificery. Until then, I’ve gotta think on a lower-scale.”
“On the card, it said that the trolls spawned by the dagger might be hostile. How would that help?”
“You know that we’re not making the dagger, right? 7000 troll hearts? You know how impossible that is?”
“I know, but if you can create a card for anything, why would you create one that might generate hostile trolls? Create the chest plate of godlike invincibility. The never-ending coin purse. Stuff like that.”
�
��Did you see the materials I need for a troll blade? Imagine what I’d need to find to make a never-ending coin purse.”
“Nothing is impossible in Soulboxe. That’s one of the taglines, right?
“They sure have a way of making it seem like it.”
“What can you really create?”
“It’s all relative to being realistic, and in keeping with my artificery level. The more I scale down my ambition, the more likely I get a crafting card I can use. So, the last troll-spawning blade was ridiculous, right?”
“Right.”
“Watch this.”
He pictured the troll dagger in his mind. This time, when he mentally ran his finger across the blade, he imagined tiny bottle flies buzzing out of the tip. They left it one by one, then taking flight around him.
Crafting Card created: Dagger of Bottlefly Spawn
[A dagger that can spawn bottle flies.]
Materials needed:
- 1 dagger
- 50 bottle fly eggs
- 2 manus veins
- 1 crystallized manus bonding agent
He flipped the card to her. “See? Still incredibly difficult, but easier than having a blade that conjured trolls.”
“I get it. I get it. I need to lower my expectations of you,” said Etta.
Tripp grinned. “Always a good idea. See, the reason it’s so hard is so I can’t just think of godly weaponry and then make it without a hitch. That’s the main reason, anyway. Secondly, everything in Soulboxe has its purpose. Its intended use by design.”
“What do you mean?”
“A dagger is used to cut, stab, tear. By design, a dagger shouldn’t conjure trolls or flies. It just doesn’t make sense, and it goes against everything we know about forging daggers. By using artificery that goes so far against the item’s purpose, the whole thing becomes much harder. That’s why on the troll dagger card, the materials weren’t just ridiculous ones. I also needed a bonding agent to make my artificery stick to the blade. Otherwise, the blade would reject it.”
“I get it. You can’t create things that don’t make sense. Like, if you tried to make a bow that shot healing arrows made of light.”
“Actually, that might work. See, the purpose of a bow is to shoot arrows. So, arrows of healing light might work. Let me show you what I mean using the dagger.”
Tripp pictured the dagger in his mind. He imagined himself holding it. Turning it so the sun caught the blade and danced down the metal. Next, he pictured stabbing the dagger into a stone wall. He pictured the blade slipping through the brick like butter.
Crafting Card Created: Stonepierce Dagger
[A dagger with a tip fashioned to stab through rock, bricks, and mortar.]
Materials needed:
1 Dagger (Iron or steel)
1 Rock troll heart
“I see now,” said Etta, turning the card over in her hand. Tripp could tell she was impressed, and that gave a little bit of pride in his class.
He took the Stonepierce crafting card back from her and added it to his inventory.
“Let’s get to it. The other players are getting closer.”
When they got back to the clearing at the center of the ruins, they found 22 red moss minotaurs waiting for them. This time, Etta yelled and hollered. She drew their attention and gave Tripp a clear run to the altar.
While Etta fought the minotaurs, Tripp faced the book. He traced his finger down the words, one by one, looking for what he needed.
“Nu san, nu fore. A manathight da gor. Come on…come on…”
He tuned out Etta’s yells and cries as the moss minotaurs outnumbered her. He found and translated the words one by one.
It was as he found the last word, he felt a sudden pain on his shoulders.
He spun around to see 19 minotaurs. Two were behind him, and the others were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Glancing to his left, he saw Etta’s corpse on the ground, her body beaten and bloodied.
“Great.”
Knowing he couldn’t escape, the least he could do was take a few out with him. Raising his flail, Tripp smashed it into the first minotaur.
And then they attacked, and he felt pain.
Lots and lots of pain.
CHAPTER 8
Etta was waiting for him when he respawned outside the ruins. As soon as she saw him she sprinted over, her wide eyes showing her eagerness.
“So, did you get it? Tell me we don’t have to do that again.”
“I did. The phrase means…”
He stopped talking as the party of rival players approached. There was a tall, slender elf, a barbarian with a beer gut, a mage dressed in shorts and a robe, and a human-tiger hybrid.
They barely acknowledged the minotaur and orc, wrapped up in chatting amongst themselves. Tripp waited for them to pass and head into the ruins. He didn't warn them about the red moss minotaurs who were waiting.
When they were gone, he spoke quietly.
“So, the phrase is a little weird. But I guess that shouldn’t come as a surprise when it comes to Soulboxe.”
“What does it mean?”
“Water the plants so they may grow. Only water from within will make it so.”
“Huh?”
“Water the-”
“Yeah, I heard you,” she said. “But that’s cryptic as hell. You have any ideas?”
“Not really. I think we better head back to the tower and check out the carvings again.”
They fast-traveled back to the Tower of Windborne, where the crowd around it had swollen in number. More players had heard about the tower, and its mysterious nature meant everyone wanted to get in.
Luckily, nobody had cracked the latest riddle. At the oval doors covered in steel vines, Tripp saw that the strange phrase was still carved into the arch. The four basins were on each side of it.
Etta stroked her minotaur beard. “Water the-”
Tripp gently grabbed her arm. “Don’t say it aloud. You never know who’s listening.”
Lots of players were listening. There was an elf mage kneeling close by. He was concentrating on the doors so intensely it was obvious he was pretending not to be listening to them.
Tripp eyed the basins. It was obvious that the water from within, whatever that was, needed to go into each basin. So, what was water from within?
The answer must have been in the symbols above each basin. After staring at them for what seemed like an hour, he felt like a solution was there in his mind. He couldn’t quite grasp it.
“Let’s move away a little.”
When they got far enough away that nobody could hear them, Tripp sat down on the grass. Etta followed suit.
“The symbols,” he began. “There’s a mask, a staff, a hammer, and a shield with a cross inside it. What does that mean?”
“I might know,” said Etta. “Take a look at me, Tripp. What do you see?”
“A hairy, overgrown bull.”
“Funny. Look at my skills.”
Then he understood.
Every player in Soulboxe had their best skills floating above their heads. These were represented by symbols made from metal. Archers might have a bow, a barbarian would have a sword, and Etta, a paladin, had something else.
“A shield with a cross inside. Okay, you’re onto something.”
“And you’re an armorer, so you have a hammer. The symbols by the door represent skills people need to enter the tower this time.”
“That makes sense. And I think I know what water from within means. We need someone who has one of the skills carved into the door. You’re a paladin, and the cross in the shield represents your paladin spells. I have the armorer skill, so I can match with the hammer. The mask represents stealth.”
“We need a rogue or an assassin. Or a thief.”
“Right. And finally, there’s the staff.”
“Easy. Mage.”
“Okay. We need to join up with a mage and a thief, or rogue, something like that.”
“What about when we do?”
“Water the plants so they may grow. Only water from within will make it so. I know what it means, but you won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“Water from within must mean blood. We need a rogue and a mage, and we each need to drip some of our blood into the basins. Now, where do we find them?”
“Easy,” said Etta. “We go to the Windborne adventurer’s guild and post a party request.”
CHAPTER 9
Rolley and Barnard
Rolley crept along the outskirts of the tomb. Every step he took was a masterpiece in stealth. Each placement of his sound-muted boots was quieter than a fly’s fart. His pulse thrummed in his ear, but that didn’t matter. Nobody would hear how tense he was.
There was a good reason for him to be on edge. See, he was in a dungeon many, many levels above him. By all rights, he should be dead by now, but part of roguery was getting to places you shouldn’t be. He’d crept into the heart of the dungeon without stirring a single creature.
Now his prize awaited him. There, in the center of this oval tomb, was a treasure chest buzzing with golden light. Its glow promised glorious loot within.
If only it weren’t for the level 76 giant man-eating spider guarding it.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to fight the thing. See, there was a reason he’d chosen the rogue class. It was because he loved loot, and he wanted to get the best without having to grind his way through combat levels.
That was the whole point of Soulboxe, right? A player could do anything. If the only way to get anything was to beef up and learn how to swing a sword, then everyone would play as a warrior class.
So now, with his pulse pounding away, he eyed the monster guarding the chest, and he focused his mind. He forced himself to be calm.
Just twenty steps. Twenty quiet steps and he could get to the chest without alerting its guardian. Course, the chest would be locked until the spider was killed, but a rogue who couldn’t pick a lock was barely a rogue at all.
