by Pavel Kornev
I so wanted to believe this. I really did.
But I couldn’t.
Once you got yourself a mortal enemy looking for a chance — any chance — to destroy you and trample you into the ground, you shouldn’t relax. One single mistake, and you’re done. In a game, it’s way too easy to end up on someone’s black list: one word leads to another until one of you slams his club on the tavern table in anger and then all hell breaks loose. There’re no shades of right or wrong left here, as all moral principles seem to be left behind IRL. No one’s afraid of retribution.
I wouldn’t have minded it so much but the problem was, for me this wasn’t a game anymore.
WE’D REACHED the middle of the river when the two crippled hell hounds appeared on the bank. Their howling echoed over the water. Still, they hadn’t dared swim after us. They just stood there howling.
I didn’t give a damn, honestly.
As the boat continued on its way, I began to realize what must have prevented them from using it to send in reinforcements. The river had flooded the valley, turning it into an impassable quagmire. Tree tops peeked above the water; I could even make out a few rooftops, chimneys and lopsided fences where the water level happened to be lower.
There was no way you could take an army through here. The warriors would sink in the quagmire while a tow boat would run aground in no time.
Now our little boat, she was different.
Neo kept rowing, trying to stay away from the trees while steering the boat into deep ravines and bits of lowland. Occasionally the boy had to fight the current, but the unhurried muddy waters didn’t hinder our advance.
At first, I kept squinting my eyes, shielding them from the river’s surface glistening in the sun, as I looked for our pursuers. Then I began to pay more attention to my surroundings, especially the bushes peeking above the water.
These were uncharted lands, after all. You never knew who might be lurking in an ambush.
Still, the place seemed perfectly calm. I put my flamberge aside and decided to look into my stats. I had a few points to distribute. I should also work out a leveling strategy. My leveling rate was about to slow down, so I had to start thinking about the future.
After some quality brain-racking, I decided not to overcomplicate things and focused on strength, agility and perception. I wasn’t really interested in either pickpocketing or lock picking. My stealth had considerably grown too thanks to my chainmail, which allowed me to fully concentrate on evasion.
As always, I had the biggest problems with professional skills. The thing was, you could mix and match combat techniques to create all sorts of combinations — and each new blow you learned gave you access to a great many more combos.
I was really spoiled for choice.
So I decided to choose useful over everything else. The first thing I studied was “Accurate Strike”. Even though damage was on the low side, it offered a decent chance of striking the seams of an opponent’s armor or thrusting your sword into their visor slit.
This choice had opened me access to new combat techniques, so I invested my new point into “Crippling Blow”. I’d done so for a reason. Today, I’d been lucky to chop the hell hound’s leg off. I hadn’t at all expected my “Dog Slayer” to kick in. Had I missed, I wasn’t so sure I’d have been able to escape the mercenaries so easily. I also had a funny feeling I still had some escaping to do. In this situation, the ability to cripple the fastest or most observant pursuer was worth a lot.
Even though this passive skill didn’t guarantee a 100% chance of chopping off an enemy hand or foot, it worked with “Accurate Blow” and didn’t put an extra toll on internal energy. Which was a nice little bonus for a beginner bandit.
AFTER THAT, I opened the “Sweeping Strike” and invested my last point into a level-2 “Blind Strike”. Its use, in turn, significantly increased accuracy in case of loss of vision or in total darkness and also could be applied to the attacks on invisible creatures.
Why did I need that, might you ask?
But what about the ability to feel someone’s gaze?
It was true that no stealthed-up rogue could catch me off guard. But expecting an attack was one thing and being able to deliver a preemptive strike, quite another. A dagger against my flamberge? I was pretty sure I could surprise any cunning bastard!
I saved the changes and spent some time admiring my new characteristics.
John Doe, Executioner, Hangman
Undead. A Night Hunter. Level: 22 / Human, Rogue. Level: 22
Experience: [17 478/18 100]; [17 522/18 100]
Strength: 26.
Agility: 25.
Build: 24.
Intelligence: 5.
Perception: 12.
Life: 1056.
Endurance: 1100.
Internal energy: 374.
Damage: 192-288.
Covert movement: +10.
Evasion: +11.
Critical damage when attacking in stealth mode, backstabbing or attacking a paralyzed target.
Professional skills: “Incognito”, “Execution”, “Tormentor”.
Fencer: two-handed weapons (3), weapons in one hand, “Sweeping Strike”, “Powerful blow”, “Power lunge”, “Sudden blow”, “Accurate Blow”, “Crippling blow” and “Blind Strike”.
Creature of the Dark: night sight, penalty for being in sunlight, Deathgrip, Aura of Fear, Fearsome Bite, “Claws of Darkness”, “Sprint”.
Neutrality: subjects of the Lord of the Tower of Decay
Enemies: Order of the Fiery Hand, the Swords of Chaos clan.
Immunity: death magic, poisons, curses, bleeding, sickness, cures and blessings.
Achievements: “Dog Slayer” Grade 3, “Tenacious”, “Man of Habit”, “Defender of Stone Harbor” Grade 1.
Wow, what a change! Now I was a Night Hunter and a Hangman to boot!
“Uncle John!” Neo called. “You seem to have grown taller! Your arms are longer, too.”
I got up from the bench. Indeed, my whole body felt taller and lighter. I seemed to have become faster, too.
I sat back down and removed the mask. “Scared, aren’t you?”
Neo just shrugged. He caught his breath and returned to the oars. “It’s no worse than it was. Only you’re quite thin now.”
That I’d also noticed. My swollen flesh had shriveled somewhat, my pallid skin clinging to the bones. The death spots were gone now, too, replaced by an intricate network of fine black lines that covered my body all over like pagan tattoos.
Never mind. I’d never been a pretty face. What I found much more interesting, was what kind of surprises my Night Hunter had in store for me in the murder department?
And the Night Hunter hadn’t disappointed. The properties it came with! It offered +25% to speed in the dark and in dungeons devoid of sunlight. In combination with “Sprint”, that made me almost supernaturally fast. The only problem was, this amazing little skill didn’t perform so well in daylight.
Still, it wasn’t bad at all. Now, what’s with the Hangman?
Hangman
Unlike an Executioner who can either kill his victim quickly and painlessly or prolong their death throes for days and even weeks, Hangmen aren’t known for their finesse or self-control. They’re steeped in blood up to their elbows. Hangmen kill without hesitation and in the most cruel way possible.
No idea what bonuses Executioners received for their finesse in dishing out punishments, but a Hangman had extra chances of dealing a “Crippling Blow” as well as the minor possibility of rendering their victim comatose with pain.
I was swift and lethal.
How cool was that?
While I was thus busy, twilight had come. The sky above Stone Harbor kept flashing gold and crimson. It looked like the battle was still in full swing. Either the army of the dead had dug their heels in, or it was the powers of Light and Dark contesting the city.
“Uncle John!” Neo called. “I’m tired! And I’m hungry.”
>
My jaw dropped.
He was what? Tired?
Could it have been the fact that he’d entered a new stage in his development? Naturally, human players needed to eat and drink. But apparently, that applied to NPCs as well.
I had nothing else to do but replace him and get rowing. As for food... that was something we didn’t have.
“How about you catch some fish?” I suggested.
“We don’t have a fishing rod, do we?”
Dammit! I had to swim to the nearest bushes, cut a long straight branch and sharpen one of its ends. I handed the makeshift harpoon to the boy who immediately started looking for fish in the murky waters. He missed twice but quickly got the hang of it. Soon half a dozen large fish wriggled on the boat’s floor.
With a sigh, I started looking for a place to moor. Me, I could have easily rowed through the night as the Deadman’s amulet restored my stamina in no time. But by then, the going had gotten tough. The deep water had by now given place to flooded fields. From time to time, shallow waves rocked the boat. I dreaded to even think what kind of monsters circulated in the murky depths.
We’d chosen a flooded farm to stop for the night. The master’s house stood on a hill surrounded by the flooded river. It was dry inside. We even managed to start the fire.
Neo got busy cleaning the fish while I checked the rooms and sat on the porch, the flamberge in my lap, listening to the chirruping of the crickets. Gazillions of bright stars appeared in the night sky.
Did I feel good? I sure did.
Still, rather than admire these digital views, I’d much rather have woken up in my virtual capsule, had my rehabilitation, then testify in court. At some point, I might even want to go back to the world of the Towers of Power but it wasn’t going to be any time soon. Oh, no.
I saw the darkness — which an ordinary person must have found impenetrable — as a multitude of shades of gray. My Night Hunter’s refined ear could discern the slightest noises, so we didn’t have to worry about any sudden attacks. I leaned back against the wall and began studying the changes introduced to me Deadman kit. Just like before, the addition of a new item had improved the properties of all the others.
Having finished with that, I decided to check on Garth, just out of sheer curiosity. Still, the sly necromancer had followed my example and blocked me. The thought that he might be anywhere now sent uncomfortable shivers down my spine. I tried not to think about it.
I didn’t give a damn. The important thing was, they couldn’t track me down now.
Or could they? I froze open-mouthed.
What an idiot I was! Hadn’t I taken part in that Defend or Die thing? Garth could ask any of them to give him a hand.
I hurried to check on the task. Much to my relief, I discovered that all the tracking permission boxes were unchecked.
But of course! I’d already been Incognito when I’d accepted the task. And I hadn’t shown my profile to anyone after that. Now Garth would never be able to find me.
I looked at the unchecked box next to the half-elf’s name. Victor and I seemed to have gotten along pretty well. Still, the risk of Garth using him to get to me was too great. I could always find him myself later. If push came to shove.
“Uncle John!” Neo called. “Dinner’s ready!”
“I’m not hungry,” I replied. “Eat and get some shut-eye. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”
3
I SHOOK THE desperately yawning boy awake at dawn and sent him to get washed while I walked toward the beached boat and dragged it back to the river’s edge. None had attempted to break in during the night but I discovered plenty of signs of nocturnal visitors in the mud. This backwater was home to giant crocs — provided they were crocs, of course.
This time I took up the oars straight away and began rowing steadily. The boat crossed the flood plane and entered a quiet creek. Around us lay expanses of quagmire studded with waterlogged bushes and strewn with swamp grass. A careless step to the side could see you sucked into the quagmire and drowned without a trace.
I rowed unhurriedly, casting an occasional glance at the map. I found it strange that the marker which denoted the position of the old temple was approaching too slowly. If it was approaching at all.
Should I just forget the whole thing and go back to Stone Harbor?
To tell you the truth, I’d been toying with the idea. The only thing that stopped me from returning to the city was fear. I didn’t doubt that Garth wouldn’t stop at anything to find me. He’d probably wait for me by the Tower of Power for at least a few days.
How about Incognito?
What Incognito are we talking about if I was still walking around earing this tatty cape? Changing into something else might help for a start.
So in the end, I didn’t go to the city. I headed for the temple.
Neo kept nodding off without distracting me. I could hear the birds singing and the splashing of water. The bright sunlight began to bear down on me, stripping me of my strength. I only felt better whenever the boat entered the long shady passages under the waterlogged tree tops. The semidarkness of their thick foliage had a pleasant cooling effect.
The farther we moved away from the Broken Creek, the fewer flooded houses and cleared fields we saw. By noon they’d disappeared completely. Only once had we passed a cliff where somebody had drawn a huge, lopsided letter M with a piece of coal.
I looked around warily but didn’t activate the Incognito mode. The risk of meeting other players in this backwater wasn’t too high.
Soon the swamps began to recede, the land became drier, and the trees higher. Their dense crowns merged overhead into a dense dark canopy. In places where some of the trees had been blown over, pillars of light shone through the gaps.
The creek had narrowed into a fast-moving stream. Now I struggled to row against the current. The ground here was covered with a thick layer of wet fallen leaves which prevented us from telling whether we’d already left the marshland behind. We were also worried about rustling sounds in the bushes. We really didn’t have the time to fight any forest inhabitants. What if some of them were venomous? For me, that wasn’t a problem, but Neo didn’t have much health to begin with.
Gradually the creek had become shallow and rocky. There was no way we could continue. There was nothing else we could do other than pull the boat ashore.
“Stick with me!” — I warned Neo, then walked ahead along the forest path. The air under the trees was hot and wet. The putrid smell of decay was unpleasant. Really, this wasn’t the right time for my olfactory senses to kick in
The path followed the stream for a while, then turned off. Soon fragments of red granite began to peek out from under the rotting foliage. For a while, Neo kept sniffing unhappily behind my back, then complained, “I’ve got blisters on my feet.”
That was the last straw. We had to stop for a break and make him a pair of sandals out of the strips of leather left from the jacket. As a result, I received the “Shoemaker” achievement which unfortunately didn’t give me any special privileges. A shoemaker is a shoemaker, big deal.
“Do they fit you well?” I asked the kid.
Neo laced the sandals up and took a couple of steps to try them out. “Fine,” he said with a happy smile.
Good. Time to get going.
HERE, THE FOREST was more tropical. The air was close and humid. Exotic flowers abounded amid the creeping vines. Occasionally, we came across some local beastie which would scamper away at the first sight of people. Every time it happened, the forest echoed with the sounds of the disturbed undergrowth.
Gradually the path went uphill, giving us hope that soon the moisture and stuffiness of the lowland would be left behind. But the stench of decay only intensified. We started coming across withered trees with moldy trunks covered in moss. Everywhere we turned, we saw dry boughs and bare branches protruding everywhere.
“This is a bad place,” Neo suddenly said.
I stopped. “What m
akes you think so?”
“I don’t know. It’s just bad.
“Well, you brought us here,” I chuckled. ‘Never mind. Keep your eyes peeled.”
You couldn’t scare a deadman with a macabre atmosphere. Personally, I didn’t sense any real threat, but drew my flamberge just in case and rested it on my shoulder. Just for my own peace of mind.
But when about five minutes later the dead black grass began crunching underfoot, I started to feel it too. I stopped and listened, sniffing the air, then looked around.
Nothing aroused any fears, but some kind of gut feeling didn’t allow me to move on, whispering softly in my ear, “Run! Run! Run!”
I didn’t budge. Instead, I continued to carefully examine the gnarly trunks of the dead trees.
Death! Yes, I could feel death here.
I gently tugged at the sleeve of Neo’s cloak.
“Uncle John!” he whispered. — Look!
I glanced in the direction where he was pointing. Only then did I notice an orcish totem pole among the dry tree trunks. Its carved demonic faces scowled in every direction.
“That isn’t right!” Neo said suddenly. “It shouldn’t be here! We need to cut it down!”
“What, and wake up half of the forest?” I snorted..
The boy didn’t listen to me. He fearlessly stepped off the path and prepared to kick it.
“Don’t break any of your own bones,” I chuckled.
Immediately I sensed a glare boring through my back.
This was no gut feeling. This was my Executioner skill at work.
A group of squat forest orcs emerged from the thicket with arrows at the ready on their short curved bow. They weren’t aiming at me at all. I rushed to Neo and covered him with my back. Instead of piercing the boy’s body, the bone arrowheads were deflected by my chainmail.
I swung round to see that the archers were already drawing new arrows from their quivers. Their shaman had now joined them, his unkempt hair braided with dirty red ribbons. A cluster of wispy gray fog swirled in between his outstretched palms.
