Merchant of Death

by Jared Mandani

  Character Information

  Character Stats

  Currently Equipped

  Inventory: 18/60 Items

  Faction: N/A

  Class: N/A

  Guild: N/A

  Primary Profession: Salvager

  Secondary Profession: Analyst

  Specialist Tertiary Profession: Smuggler

  Current LVL: 04

  Health: 180/180

  Mana: 0/0

  Speed: 85/85

  Attack: 65/65

  Defense: 70/70

  Charisma: 65/55

  ↑ Charisma + 10 LVL01: Ring Of Mild Charm

  Weapon Skills: 0/0

  Adventurers’ Backpack

  Chest: LVL 03 Peasant Tunic

  Bracers: NONE

  Legs: LVL 01 Peasant Pants

  Boots: LVL 01 Wood Sandals

  Cloak: LVL 02 Hooded Traveling Cloak

  Neck: NONE

  Head: LVL 01 Peasant Straw Hat

  Main-Hand Weapon: NONE

  Off-Hand Weapon: NONE

  Bandana--Black

  Dried Plums x 3

  LVL 03 Button-Up Shirt

  LVL 03 Chaps and Pants

  LVL 03 Leather Boots

  Jet Dragon Brooch

  Salted Meat x 4

  Steamed Bun

  Steamgrad Gate Pass

  Well Water x 3

  Willow Bark

  Xan’s Map to Gelmara Mud Pits

  Gold: 41

  John scanned through his stats and dismissed the screen. Not too bad, he reflected, but he had a long, long way to go. He considered purchasing a weapon, but decided against it for the time being. He was such a low level at the moment that he wouldn’t stand a chance in combat with any other player anyway, and he doubted he could come across anyone while he was out in the mud pits. Besides, he was anxious to get this over with and move on to setting up connections with criminals in the Holy Seal. The sooner he got his network up and running, the sooner he could have a steady supply of money coming in.

  He gave Lao a curt nod and headed across the dingy interior of the shop to the front door. The little bell tinkled as he opened it and stepped onto a wooden porch. Bright sunshine beamed down, warming his face and showing him the spacious street beyond. Unlike the chaotic sprawl of Steamgrad, Bastion was neatly arranged and pristine. White stoned buildings with elegantly curving roofs flanked the main thoroughfare with lines of pink blossom trees stretching its length. Empire NPCs and players went about their business, and the city was filled with the noise of life and bustle. John stood on the porch and soaked up the ambience for a few moments before heading out into the street. He was mindful to keep his head bowed, allowing his face to be concealed by his wide brimmed straw hat, and tried to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

  Despite this, he attracted one or two stares from passing players, but nobody stopped to talk to him. He noted that the majority of them seemed to be mostly level fifty upwards, and many of them wore Chinese medieval armor fitting with the style of their faction. A few of the players he saw wore long flowing robes, suggesting that they followed magic orientated professions. But then, what did he know? This was only his second day in the game…

  Keeping his gaze downwards, he followed Lao’s instructions and made for the riverfront. The neighborhood became less attractive and residential buildings, shops and temples gave way to warehouses and small scale medieval industries. The huge expanse of the Swan River—a ribbon of deep steel blue water—came into sight, studded with junk boats and smaller fishing vessels. A number of NPCs, mostly dressed as stevedores and sailors, were busy around the river port.

  John moved closer and spotted a burly-looking NPC with green serpent tattoos on his broad arms, sat on a crate, smoking a pipe. He took the Jade Dragon brooch from his pack and held it tightly in the palm of his hand as he headed towards the big man.

  “I’m looking for Captain Shen,” he said. “You know where he is?”

  “I might do,” grunted the man without looking up from his pipe. “Depends who wants to know.”

  John showed him the brooch. “I’m on Tong business, for Master Xan. I want to see Shen now.”

  The big NPC nodded and got to his feet. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? This way.”

  John kept pace with the man as they ambled through the hustle and bustle of the river port, coming to a warehouse. He was escorted inside to a small untidy office where a smaller NPC, with a drooping moustache and watery eyes, was sat at a desk, writing in a large leather bound ledger.

  “He’s been sent over by Xan,” the big man said when Captain Shen looked up questioningly. “He’s on business.”

  “Who are you?” the captain said.

  “My name’s John,” said John, showing the captain the brooch. “Lao the shopkeeper said you could get me out of the city. I need to get to the Gelmara Mud Pits.”

  “A new associate, huh?” Captain Shen replied, looking him up and down. “You’re in luck. There’s a trading skiff about to leave in half an hour to deliver goods to the villages further down river. It can take you as far as the swamps, but you’ll have to hide down in the hold. The City Watch is searching all river traffic that go in and out of the city now and they’ll get suspicious if they find a player on board who’s not part of the Seven Paths faction. It’s a clamp down by the Mandarin on smuggling. Naïve fool. I hear Xan is planning a nice little assassination to get rid of him, and then we’ll get a replacement who is much more sympathetic to the Tong. We need someone in charge who knows what’s good for business.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” John said, “but can you get me on that boat right now?”

  Captain Shen gestured to the big man with the tattoos. “Take him over to the Sleeping Crane, Jok, make sure her skipper understands what’s going on.”

  “Sure thing, Captain,” Jok said. “This way,” he said to John, slapping him so hard on the shoulder John felt a few hit points disappear from his total.

  Without saying another word, Captain Shen went back to his work, and John was led out into the bright sunshine again. The man called Jok took him further down the riverfront until they came to a wooden pier with a ramshackle-looking boat moored next to it.

  A grizzled old man wearing tattered cloth pants and with skin as tough as old leather—who turned out to be the skipper—listened without much enthusiasm as Jok explained he would be taking a passenger out with him and he needed to be hidden to avoid awkward questions from the City Watch. The skipper was clearly no stranger to this type of secretive activity, and when Jok had gone, he ordered the cabin boy to take John down below.

  “In here,” the cabin boy said, opening a secret compartment set into the bulkhead. “Stay real quiet Mister, while the City Watch do their search.”

  “I got it,” John said.

  “We’re casting off,” the skipper called down below. “Get him hidden and quick.”

  The cabin boy urged John to climb into the small compartment and he slid the wall back into place, plunging him into darkness. John hunkered down in the small dark space, ignoring the strong smell of fish and exotic spices that permeated through the hold. First the stinking pot, now this… EWO was definitely not for people with claustrophobia or a low tolerance for foul odors, he thought to himself. The little craft creaked and swayed under the swell of the water, and he soon felt the sensation of movement.

  For a long time, nothing happened and tedium began to set in. And then, just as John was beginning to doze off, he heard the stamp of many booted feet above him and loud voices. He listened tensely as a sharp voice demanded to know what the skipper was carrying and where he was going, which was then followed by the skipper’s surly reply.

  A few moments later, he heard footsteps on the stairs and two men grumbling as they entered the hold. John tensed, listening to them moving about as they perused the cargo that was stored there. Judging by the
less than complimentary things they were saying about the captain of the City Watch, the soldiers were not particularly enjoying their assignment, and they were equally disdainful of the smell that was down here. As a consequence, their search was short and sweet, and they soon headed back to the fresh air above deck. The watch captain was saying something else to the skipper, but John couldn’t make it out, and then silence came quickly, followed by the sensation of movement again.

  After about twenty minutes or so, the cabin boy returned and opened the compartment. “You can come out now, we’re out of the city,” he said with a grin.

  “Thanks,” John replied, clambering from the compartment and stretching his legs. “It was getting cramped in there.”

  “You can go up top now,” the cabin boy replied. “There’s no more danger.”

  John nodded again and did just that, grateful to be out of the unpleasant confines of the hold. The fresh wind that hit his face as he emerged onto the top deck was like a rejuvenating tonic. He looked back at the river gate and the high walls of Bastion, and watched them slowly recede as the skiff sailed sharp and swift away from the city. He then went up to the prow of the ship to see where he was heading. Lush paddy fields and pastures flanked each side of the great river, dotted with little farmsteads, and behind them was the dense expanse of sprawling forests. In the far distance rose the rugged outline of snowcapped mountains.

  “The swamps are several leagues ahead,” the skipper said when John asked him how far it was to his destination. “There’s an inlet that turns off into them. I’ll drop you there and you can get to the mud pits on foot, just keep going in a straight line and you’ll walk straight into them, but you’ll smell them long before that, har har!”

  John spent the rest of the journey enjoying the languid pace of the boat and the scenery rolling by. Soon, the landscape changed, becoming swampy and packed with dense vegetation. The boat came close to the shoreline and John jumped down onto the lush grass. The cabin boy waved enthusiastically to him as he made his way along the inlet toward his destination. John nodded back as the skiff carried on with its journey downriver.

  Turning away from the boat and the river, he began marching further into the swampland. The fresh air and bright sunshine of the morning gave way to a sweaty afternoon of hard slog through a harsh and unfriendly landscape. The ground was soft and treacherous underfoot, and soon the rancid stench of the Ooze of Animation filled the air and clogged his lungs. He was breathing in the wretched stuff long before the bubbling mud pits came into sight, and part of him wanted to turn around and abandon the quest completely.

  Maybe there’s an easier way, he thought to himself. He could go back to Bastion, try and connect to other criminals without having to jump through hoops for Xan and the Jet Dragon Tong. He dismissed the idea straight away. It looked like the Tong was the most powerful criminal network in the city and Xan could turn out to be incredibly useful to him. There was Rourke and the criminal interests he represented outside of the game to consider. He decided it would help him achieve his aims a lot quicker if he collected this slime for them and got back to the city as fast as possible.

  Coming to a halt on the edge of the Gelmara Mud Pits, he looked out in disgust at the vast bubbling mess before him. Steam rose up from the deep mud pools, along with large bubbles that burst when they rose several feet in the air. It was so hot here he was drenched in sweat in moments and the steam made it difficult to see. Most of the Ooze was the same greenish color as the stuff Rourke and Manny had brought down to the cellar the day before. But further away, opposite to where John was standing, he could just about make out the reddish hues of the other type of Ooze that Xan required. It would mean navigating through the green crud to get there though. As he stood there considering his next move, he made out a narrow path of solid earth zigzagging its way towards the red ooze. If he stuck to it, he should be able to get to the stuff relatively easily.

  Relative was a subjective word, he grimly realized as he looked at the seething pools around him. One slip and he’d be killed instantly. Still, there was no point worrying about that now. He had to at least try.

  Without dwelling on it any longer, he stepped out onto the path through the pits and slowly began moving along it, careful where he put his feet. The ground was soft and spring, and a chunk of it gave way when he stepped onto it, tumbling into the gaping maw of a nearby pit. John backed over onto the center of the path before he went in with it and kept on moving, picking up speed as he did so.

  He got halfway across when one of the mud pits began churning violently and sent up huge gouts of burning hot ooze into the air. John was grazed by the eruption and his arm felt like it had caught fire.

  Scalded! 09 Health Points Lost!

  John rubbed at his arm, wincing, and kept on moving. A few feet away and another pool erupted just in front of him, catching him on his chest and the side of his face.

  Scalded! 15 Health Points Lost!

  “God damn!” John growled.

  All around him now the pits were churning and bubbling, and more eruptions came shooting upwards, spraying their burning detritus. A huge chunk of hot ooze slammed down onto his right shoulder, sending shockwaves through his body.

  Scalded! 30 Health Points Lost!

  Desperately, he clawed at the slime, burning his fingers as he tried to scrape it off his cloak and then hurried forward, keeping his head down. Up ahead, where the red ooze was located, it was considerably calmer, and he bolted for its relative safety.

  He was almost there when a huge bubble floated upwards dangerously close to his face and burst, spraying him with boiling liquid. The impact took him off his feet and he went tumbling into the pool nearest to him.

  Burning agony took the breath from his body and everything went black.

  DEAD.

  John let out a frustrated cry as he floated in the limbo between game lives. He glared at the gameplay tip that came up on the loading screen as he waited to be reinserted into EWO.

  Tip: Save Markers can allow you to respawn anywhere of your choosing, but keep them in a safe location as they can be removed by another player and your save point overwritten—meaning you will respawn in a random location.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” Lao said cheerfully as the general store began to take shape out of the virtual reality darkness. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Might I interest you in my wares?”

  Chapter 07

  It turned out the bubbles weren’t the only hazard in the Mud Pits. Sure, when all was said and done, he did die a few more times from their direct hits. But as he kept coming back for more, John quickly found out why Rourke and Manny had stuck with the green stuff. Every step into this area was a possible death sentence. Parts of the ground would crumble and rush him to his fiery end, pockets of toxic gas would break from under his foot and poison him… Once, when he had made it to the red Ooze, just to spite him it seemed, the earth started to shake and sent him tumbling head first into one of the pools.

  Of course, every time he bit the dust, it was back to square one and he had to find a new boat to bring him here. After a dozen deaths or so, he stopped counting how many times he had to return, and he dared not look at any clock or watch. Hell, he had probably grown a beard outside the game by now!

  At one point, he had considered taking the Save Marker with him from the shop and placing it at the edge of the Mud Pits to cut out all the traveling, but the game tip about other players being able to take the Marker for their own stopped him from doing so. Even though the location was pretty remote and he hadn’t met either another player or NPC, there was always the chance he’d lose it as he made his way to gather the red Ooze of Animation, and he had no intention of trusting to his shitty luck.

  Still, through sheer resolve and dedication, John finally managed to collect the required amount that Xan had requested. As it was, once he had hauled enough of the foul stuf
f in the wicker basket, it was a simple enough matter to just grit his teeth, jump into the nearest bubbling pool, and respawn back at Lao’s Emporium with his precious cargo safely in Void Storage. How he hated that despicable sensation when the lava-like Ooze engulfed him whole and made every synapse in his brain fire with pain, but that beat making the journey back any day of the week. Besides, he had wasted too much time already.

  Leaving it all down in the cellar as instructed, John got out of his dirty and rotten smelling peasant outfit and slipped back into his cowboy gear, mindful to keep it hidden under his heavy traveling cloak. With the hood pulled up, he set off across town to the elegant wood and stone building that served as the Nine Celestials Tea House.

  The Tea House was clearly an exclusive establishment that catered to a select clientele, judging from the fact there were two mean-looking NPC guards at the door. They almost ran him through with their swords when he dared to walk up the steps to the red lacquered doors. Even after he showed them his Jet Dragon brooch and explained that Xan was expecting him, it was touch-and-go whether they would kill him anyway just because they were having an off day. Fortunately for John, they resisted the urge, and once inside the Tea House, an elderly serving woman led him up a set of stairs and urged him down the corridor to the pair of black lacquered doors decorated with swirling gold dragons at the far end of it. He did as he was instructed and knocked on one of the doors.

  “Enter,” Xan’s iron hard voice came gruff and irritable from the other side.

  John opened the doors and found himself in a plush chamber with thick rugs and dark red drapes hanging from the walls. Xan was sat behind a large ornate writing desk, sifting through some parchments. He looked up and gave John a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I’ve done it,” John said brusquely, coming further into the office. He sat down in a high backed chair near the desk. “I’ve collected that muck you wanted.”