Faction Specific: The Empire of the Seven Paths
Soul-Bound Item: Yes
↑ Attack + 450
↑ Defense + 400
Current LVL: 02
Speed: 55/55
Attack: 30/30
Defense: 30/30
Item summons a Chinese Yin Yang Dragon. Damage dealt to enemies restores a portion of the wearer’s health.
Item has a five minute cooldown after each use.
Must be LVL 98 or higher and a member of The Empire of the Seven Paths to equip this item.
You do not meet the requirements to equip this item.
A weapon that looked like jewelry? He turned the coin over in his hand. It took health from one person and used it to restore part of the wielder’s. It would be hard to combat something that he didn’t see right off the bat. Swords and pistols were one thing. Easily hidden and discreet amulets were something completely different.
John studied the body, looking for anything else that resembled jewelry. A jade hairpin was shoved into the man’s topknot. Squinting suspiciously, John freed the pin from the man’s hair. One end was rounded with an ornate dragon carved into it. The jade tapered to a sharp point on the other end. Accidentally pricking his finger on the sharpened tip, John sucked in a quick breath. A drop of blood welled up from the tiny puncture. He placed the fresh wound in his mouth to stop the bleeding.
A shadow passed over him. The temperature had dropped several degrees. A chill sent shivers across his exposed skin. John blinked a few times. The area around the field was darkening. He looked up, but the sun was still blazing in the sky. There was no wind to account for the sudden chill. The players that were battling didn’t seem to notice any difference. The heat of battle and the rush of adrenaline were probably clouding their senses. He knew the thrill of battle could keep a man going even in the worst of circumstances.
Shaking his head to clear the fog forming in his mind, John read over the menu that had opened in front of him.
Item: LVL 95 Poisoned Jade Hairpin
Currently Equipped: NONE
Minimum LVL: 95
Durability: 92%
Faction Specific: The Empire of the Seven Paths
Soul-Bound Item: Yes
↑ Attack + 450
↑ Defense + 400
Current LVL: 02
Speed: 55/55
Attack: 30/30
Defense: 30/30
Item is used primarily as an off-hand weapon. Item is coated in poison that is released once the hairpin pierces the skin.
Must be LVL 95 or higher and a member of The Empire of the Seven Paths to equip this item.
You do not meet the requirements to equip this item.
Poisoned? John’s eyes widened. He had managed to live so much longer this time. His mind raced. What would have happened if the wearer accidentally pricked himself? There had to be failsafe, an antidote, something. He rifled through the man’s robes. “Dried plums…steamed buns…come on, come on!” His hand closed around a vial. The liquid was mostly clear, but in the bottom of the container was a hairless, dead baby mouse.
Item: Rat Wine
Minimum LVL: N/A
Durability: N/A
Faction Specific: No
Soul-Bound Item: No
Fermented for 24 months in the Silk Temple.
Drinking item will cure most ailments and reverse the effects of most poisons.
For maximum effect, the baby mouse must be consumed along with the wine.
“Are you kidding me?” John uncorked the bottle. The smell was acidic. It burned his nostrils and turned his stomach. Heart racing, he plugged his nose and chugged the liquid but left the mouse in the vial. The taste made him want to throw up. The darkness was still enclosing around him. He waited for the medicine to kick in, but he could still feel himself growing weaker. It wasn’t working! John held up the glass to look at the mouse. There was no way around it. In one swift motion, he tipped the rest of the contents into his mouth.
The mouse’s body started to disintegrate in his mouth like a morbid piece of cotton candy. The tail and organs became gel. John chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could. He gagged but managed to keep everything in. A hot flash passed through him. The darkness receded. It was the worst thing he had ever put in his mouth, but he was still alive.
Level Up! LVL 03!
Profession Unlocked: Analyst!
Profession: Analyst
Current Professions: 1/2
Primary: Salvager
Secondary: NONE
Minimum LVL: 03
Faction Specific: No
Profession Bonuses: Increased Understanding of Various Items, Ability to Discern Materials Used to Create Items, Increased Understanding of Item Enhancement Processes
(Bonuses level up as player levels up.)
Current LVL: 03
Speed: 60/60
Attack: 35/35
Defense: 35/35
Make Secondary Profession!
No Thanks!
Still trying to forget the taste of the rat wine, John shoved a steamed bun in his mouth and locked in his secondary profession. He felt his strength start to return. It was just in time, too. The battle was starting to heat up. John quickly shoved the remaining buns and dried plums into his makeshift bindle.
Before the warring parties could close all of his avenues of escape, John dodged his way to the edge of the field. An outcropping of rock removed from the Eternal Battlefield caught his eye. A small alcove was formed by the position of the rocks. He ducked inside. It was just big enough to keep him hidden from prying eyes. For the first time since he had been dropped into the game, John had a moment to relax and take a breath. The rock was cool against his exposed thighs. The grass by the entrance was green and supple. It swayed in a slight breeze. The area around the battlefield was full of life. Not even weeds survived in the battle zone.
The professions that he had managed to unlock would be able to serve him well. Knowledge was not something to be scoffed at. Anyone could wield a sword, but understanding the pros and cons of an enemy’s items could expose overlooked weaknesses. Using a person’s weaknesses against them was John’s specialty. The next item on his to-do list was to make some cash selling the items he had salvaged from the field. If he made enough, he could finally get himself some decent clothing and maybe a weapon. To do that, he would need to find the nearest faction city.
Chapter 04
John pressed the back of his neck to open his inventory menu and see how his stats were holding up.
Character Information
Character Stats
Currently Equipped
Inventory: 15/60 Items
Faction: N/A
Class: N/A
Guild: N/A
Primary Profession: Salvager
Secondary Profession: Analyst
XP Penalty: Player has had multiple deaths in a short span of time.
XP Penalty: Player has had multiple deaths in an area designated for players 20 LVLs or more above player’s current LVL.
Current LVL: 03
Health: 160/160
Mana: 0/0
Speed: 60/60
Attack: 35/35
Defense: 35/35
Charisma: 25/25
Weapon Skills: 0/0
Buff: 25% Increased Pain Tolerance (15 Minutes Remaining)
Chest: NONE
Bracers: NONE
Legs: LVL 01 Cloth Briefs (Starter item: no stat bonuses)
Boots: NONE
Cloak: NONE
Neck: NONE
Main-Hand Weapon: NONE
Off-Hand Weapon: NONE
Bandana--Black
Dried Plums x 4
Salted Meat x 4
Steamed Bun x 2
Well Water x 3
Willow Bark
/> “How do I open the Void Storage to see the map?” He tapped the ground impatiently. The words triggered another menu that replaced his character stats.
Pay 10% Blood Sacrifice to Retrieve Items from Void Storage?
Pay Blood Sacrifice!
Add Items to Void Storage!
Cancel Transaction!
John opted to pay the sacrifice. He watched as his health dropped until it was only 90% full. Selecting the map, he scanned the paper for the nearest town. The closest faction territory was the Wastelands. The Enlightened city of Steamgrad was the first town inside their borders. With any luck, he might be able to pawn off some goods there.
According to the map, if he headed west from his current location and followed the road, it would lead him right to the outskirts of the city. He tucked the map into the bandana he was using for a knapsack. John took a moment to ready himself mentally and emerged back out into the treacherous world of EWO.
A dirt path was what the game was calling a road. It was pocked with pitfalls and rocks. Wagon ruts ran along the edges. John kept to the tree line just far enough for him to move unnoticed but still be able to stay on course. The road wouldn’t be safe until he was a higher level.
The further he walked, the less he could hear the battle that he was leaving behind. The trees were becoming scarcer the closer he came to the Wastelands. Ahead of him, a group of players garbed in western attire were clomping towards the Eternal Battlefield. All three of them were over level 90. They looked more annoyed than battle hungry.
A man with a black hip holster bouncing with every step sighed grumpily. “We aren’t even going to make it before the battle starts. Why can’t they just wait the six hours?”
One of his companions with a large handlebar mustache spat on the ground. “They already paid us to get their soul-bound items back. Unless you want to go sell back your holster and pay back the recovery fee, I suggest you stop complaining.”
A third man adjusted a half-full bandolier of ammo across his chest. “We’re understocked as it is. The old man needs to raise the prices. This isn’t cutting it anymore.”
Handlebar whirled on his companion. He placed a knife at the third man’s throat. “If you don’t like the way he handles business, then take it up to him. One more complaint, and I’ll send you both back to Steamgrad with one flick of my wrist.”
“Relax, relax! I’m just thinking out loud!”
The knife slipped back into Handlebar’s sheath. “Maybe you should do less thinking and focus on your job.”
The three men continued towards the battlefield in silence. Handlebar took point, leaving the other two the chance to exchange pointed looks with one another. From the sound of things, they had been hired to retrieve soul-bound items by players that didn’t want to wait the full six hours for their goods to come back to them. That might be a way for him to make some extra cash once he was higher up.
Before long, the city limits of Steamgrad came into view. NPC’s patrolled the borders, checking for other factions. He needed a way in. John hunkered down near some of the few remaining trees. Three roads joined together and led to the city gates. Players filtered in. Some were on foot, some were on clockwork horses. John waited a moment, analyzing his options.
A clattering noise made him turn his head. One of the side roads had a wagon being pulled by two mechanical horses coming down it. The horses had demonic, red eyes. The person guiding the coach was covered in the dust that was billowing around the wagon. The side of the wagon was painted in thick, black letters, “Cog City Steamcoach.” Golden filigree decorated the exterior. The dust swirling around the coach would be thick enough to mask his presence. All he had to do was get under it without being noticed.
John waited until the coach was passing in front of the tree he was hiding behind. Once he was certain that the driver wouldn’t see him, he bolted for the wagon. John quickly shoved the knotted bandana into his mouth. He would need both hands free to make this work. Dust filled his nose and lungs. He fought back the urge to cough. He gasped around the knotted fabric in his mouth, trying to get some oxygen. The back axel was large enough for him to use as a handhold. Pulling his body off the ground, John swung his feet towards the front chassis. His legs wobbled from the strain, but he kept himself off the ground. The wheels on the coach slowed to a stop. Clockwork hooves pawed at the dirt.
The guards walked up to the coach. From his location, he couldn’t see what was happening. John listened intently. His muscles were aching, but he didn’t dare let go. An NPC called out to the driver. “Coach pass.” A faint clinking sounded like the driver was digging in a purse. John saw the NPC’s feet shift as they leaned forward to accept something. “On your way.”
The driver urged the horses forward. Once the coach was inside the city, John waited for it to come to a stop again. The chassis wobbled as passengers disembarked. John gently lowered his body. His arms and legs were thankful for the break. The ground was still dusty, even inside the city. It was a far cry from the asphalt and concrete of the real world. The powdered dust was soft on his knees. He glanced around, trying to find an opportune time to leave his hiding spot. John scampered out from under the coach. Standing up, he came face to face with a female player that screamed in shock.
Her scream alerted nearby players and NPC’s to his presence. “Put ‘em up!” A city guard NPC aimed his gun at John.
“Shit.” John darted down a nearby alley. If he was captured or killed, he would have to try to infiltrate the city again. That was trouble he didn’t want to have to deal with.
The end of the alley forked in two different directions. John made a split-second decision and turned left. A few drunks were collapsed behind a saloon. John leapt over them. He could hear the guard racing after him. The only way he was getting out of this alive was if he broke line of sight long enough for the guard to lose interest.
Clotheslines were strung between two buildings. John ducked under the laundry. He managed to grab a pair of worn, brown pants.
Item: LVL 01 Beginner Britches
Currently Equipped: LVL 01 Cloth Briefs
Minimum LVL: 01
Durability: 80%
Faction Specific: No
Soul-Bound Item: No
↑ Attack + 05
↑ Defense + 10
Current LVL: 03
Speed: 60/60
Attack: 35/35
Defense: 35/35
Starter item.
Item may be equipped.
“Not now!” John hissed through his teeth and waved the menu away. He almost tripped over an overturned crate that the menu had been blocking. A quick-thinking leap helped him clear the obstacle.
The further he ran into the bowels of the city, the more rundown the buildings became. John wove through the side alleys until he was certain he had lost the guard chasing him. His side ached from running so much. His in-game stamina was something he was still getting used to. John fished a dried plum out of his bindle. Chewing on it returned some of his strength. John quickly tugged on the pants he had found. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
There was a strange smell in the air. It was a mixture of body odor and stale urine. He moved towards the shadows to get a better look at his surroundings. The part of town that he was in seemed to be made mostly of lean-tos and shanties. The few people he did see had hats covering their faces with shadow. He spotted an NPC leaning against the edge of a shack. He wasn’t like the other NPC’s John had met so far. Instead of being hostile, the other man was neutral. A neutral NPC might be a way for him to get information or maybe even sell some of the goods he had salvaged. Taking a deep breath, John scanned the area and then approached the NPC.
“Howdy.” The NPC spat on the ground. “Don’t get many visitors around these parts.”
John eyed the trash blowing through the street. “Can’t imagine why.”
&nb
sp; “I’m Stub-Nose Pete. Are you here about the heist?”
John squinted at Pete. He weighed his options carefully. “Maybe I am.”
“Follow me.” Stub-Nose Pete turned on his heel and entered the shack.
The interior of the cabin smelled like whiskey. Four more NPC’s were gathered around a rickety table, playing cards. One of the men wore a black bandana tied around his neck. He seemed to be the leader of the group. The man’s eyes glanced down at the bindle John was carrying. He stood up and circled John like a vulture.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rattlesnake Jim. That sure is a fine piece of cloth there. Where did you get it?”
John’s gut told him to tread carefully. “I found it.”
Suddenly, Jim pressed the barrel of his gun under John’s chin. The cowboy backed him up against a wall. “You found it, huh? I find that a little hard to believe. Where did you find it?”
The metal was warm against his chin as if the gun had recently been fired. John swallowed but kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him. “Around the neck of a dead girl.”
The air was tense. After a short minute, Rattlesnake Jim lowered his pistol and laughed heartily. “So, you stole it from a dead girl. You’re quite a man of morals, aren’t you…” He let his sentence hang in the air and waited for John to tell him his name.
“John Smith.”
“Well, John Smith, why don’t you join us?” Jim gestured for John to sit at their table. “I think I can use a man like you.”
“Make it worth my while, and we can talk business.” John had taken contracts in the real world that had required him to do less-than-savory things. Making a few deals to get ahead in the game would be nothing, as long has it benefited his ultimate goal.
“Make it worth his while, he says.” Jim laughed again. He motioned at Stub-Nose Pete. “Go outside and keep watch while I talk to our new friend here.”
Merchant of Death Page 5
