The worst thing was that the symbol could not be copied or replaced. Or, rather, one could make an exact copy, but it would have no beneficial effects on clan members.
The Diamond Hammer clan only had two options left — they could either reclaim their treasure by force or pay a ransom to the raiders. Fortunately for them, it only helped clan members, and only if it was placed on a special pedestal at the center of the clan’s citadel. Thus, there was no point for the Hawks to keep the Hammers’ symbol other than prestige and gloating rights.
That was certainly a story worthy of telling, and it would doubtlessly generate a lot of hype.
“Get it now?” The elf was all but hopping in excitement. “Fancy getting involved in something like that! And there we are chasing rabbits through the wilderness... Hot damn! As soon as I gather a few levels, I’ll apply for membership with the Hawks! As soon as I’m eligible, I’m telling you!”
“I can surely relate,” I agreed, my peripheral hearing registering Stevan the trader beginning to move heavily, coming to his senses after his short-term blackout. I was free to go.
“All right, thanks for the story, uh... Squeak,” I read the elf’s nickname. “I’ll be off now.”
“Hey, hold on!” The elf got all agitated. “They must be posting all sorts of interesting stuff at the forum now! So it’s your turn.”
“Come again?”
“Well, log out for a few minutes and check if they’ve written anything interesting,” Squeak explained. “I’ll watch over you in the meantime.”
“Oh, right,” I said in a drawl, throwing a furtive glance at my right wrist where the very edge of the tight-fitting silver bracelet could be seen from underneath my sleeve. “Nope, bro. I’m no longer interested. You’re free to check if you want; I’ll wait here while you’re gone.”
“Duh, what's the matter with you? Too lazy?” Squeak looked sour. “Didn’t take much out of me to go and look.”
“I’m kinda busy right now,” I said nebulously, rising to my feet. “There’s just too much to do. See you later, Squeak. Good luck, and thanks again.”
“Sure, good luck,” the elf nodded reluctantly, his eyes sliding over my forearm for a split second. I cursed silently.
I nodded my goodbyes and set forth unhurriedly, heading toward the outskirts of the village. I looked behind me quickly. The shop porch was deserted. The elf had gone, and my suspicions grew. He shouldn’t have disappeared this quickly, forgetting all about the forum and the latest news.
I sped up at once, dashing right past the wall of fences before I reached a wattle fence that was just waist-high, with rows of tall plants looking very much like corn right behind it.
I looked around, and, having made sure no one had been looking, jumped right over the fence and slipped into the wall of stalks sideways, making sure I broke none. Once I was concealed by the green wall, swaying gently in the wind, I went down on one knee and froze, observing the street through the gaps between the plants. I may have had a different character class now, but the experience of playing as a ranger came in handy every now and then.
+20 to Disguise.
This should do it. Squeak didn’t look like a spy, so he wouldn’t have any tracking skills. I regretted the fact of having failed to find out his character class — his hands were empty when we were speaking, and his equipment would fit pretty much anyone — light leather armor, with boots and pants made of the same material. No headgear, and a dark blue cloth sack behind his back, and that was that.
Much to my chagrin, my horse wasn’t with me. I’d found a stable as soon as I’d entered Mossy Hills, and had handed Sist over to a friendly stable boy, having paid for a full day and given him a few extra coppers for my bay to be walked and curried well. Horses like comfort just like anybody else, and restore much more quickly in a stable than they would in a field. Predictably enough, they treat their owners better if they’re well cared-for, and tend to become less prone to nasty tricks. A Tamagotchi with hooves, for want of a better description.
I spent a few minutes in the corn without seeing anyone, but I didn’t hurry to leave my hiding place. Having activated the summoning spell, I grabbed the softly-hissing snake from the ground and placed it in my sleeve. The Hedge of Thorns took its rightful place in my left palm, and the Needle, in my right. All the healing potions were sitting in my jacket pockets snugly, and my HP bar was at the maximum. So far, so good. Dang... I only wished I’d known this Squeak’s class.
The pointy-eared player turned up in a few minutes, albeit in a somewhat unexpected manner — I heard a rustle behind one of the taller fences made of wooden boards, one of them, which must have been loose, slid to the side, and the elf edged his way through the gap. He instantly crouched and kept on looking around.
He was armed this time. There was a short dagger in his right hand, and a long, but very thin double-edged blade resembling a very narrow sword or a scimitar’s straight cousin. He was also an obvious bastard who must have noticed the mystery object on my wrist and decided to claim it as his own. What scum. He’d tried to coax me into logging out like a total mark; once the tactic failed, he decided to opt for another approach. If it came to a battle, my best bet would be to avoid a close-quarter fight and keep him at a distance — especially given that he’d be bound to have battle skills at Level 18.
The best-case scenario would be for him to simply go away. However, Squeak’s predatory face and his eyes scanning the street made that highly unlikely. This one would keep on looking until he found his quarry. Hiding in the corn forever was definitely out — I’d run into him elsewhere. I was fortunate enough to have gleaned something concerning my potential opponent.
I moved very carefully as I equipped my staff, looking at the slowly-dwindling mana points with some irritation. The snake was sure a glutton for magical energy. Fortunately, I’d just upped my regeneration, compensating for the mana expense, if only a little.
The elf, who’d been sitting near the fence, failed to locate me, cursed out loud, clearly peeved, and headed toward the other end of a street without delay, turning his head left and right. I waited until he was some thirty paces away, and slowly got into the open, staying behind the wattle fence, however, without walking out into the street. I rested both my hands on the staff, and addressed the player in a loud voice with a note of mockery in it.
“Hello there, Squeak! Are you looking for me, by any chance?”
The player turned around instantly, facing me. He threw a glance at the weapons in his hands, grinned in a somewhat embarrassed manner, shrugged, and admitted,
“That’s right. Been looking for you, o child of the corn. Have you been hiding?”
“I’ve been biding my time,” I replied in the same tone of voice. “Look, why don’t you leave me alone, really? I’ve really got other stuff to do than fight you. Lots of errands to run.”
“No problem,” Squeak grinned widely, putting the dagger away with a flourish. “Just give me that weird knickknack that you wear on your wrist, and I’ll disappear at once. On my honor.”
“Hey, you’re equipped better than me already. Trust me, my knickknack isn’t worth a red status.”
“I can live with that,” the elf shrugged, then produced a miniature crossbow from behind his back in a single movement, fast as greased lightning.
The bowstring clicked dryly; then several things happened at once. The elf’s nickname as displayed over his head changed its color from peaceful green to a menacing red, and a short crossbow bolt hissed over my head only to get lost in the corn as I dropped to my knee. I’d been waiting for just that — his first hostile action. Had I attacked first, I’d have gone red instead. Now Squeak was the aggressor, and me, just an innocent victim. I could have called the guards, but the elf would have enough time to skin me alive three times over before those lazy lumps made their entrance. I’d be best off handling it myself.
Squeak did not recharge the crossbow, throwing it to the side and dashing
toward me, eager to get close the sooner, the better. The little rat must have had some experience.
The Hedge of Thorns made no sound as it appeared in Squeak’s way, enveloping him in its gentle embrace and stopping him from getting any farther. Another Hedge appeared around the first, capturing the elf from the front and from behind in a wall of very prickly vegetation. Squeak, still processing this fact, let out a loud curse as he jerked back and the sharp thorns caught him under his knees. That was when my first Ice Needles hit him in the face and in the chest. I’d been aiming for his exposed neck, hoping for a crit, but it was a good enough result, given the distance.
“You’re a mage!” yelled an irate Squeak, grabbing a vial of potion from his belt and downing it. “A mage, dammit!”
Who did he expect, a parakeet with tits? Of course I was a mage!
The elf’s HP level was in the green again, but I kept pelting him with Needles without answering his shouts — the Hedges were still in place, too, sapping away at my enemy’s HP. Squeak flexed his whole body, dashed sideways, and broke free for the price of about ten HP. He dashed straight for me in a low crouch.
“You’re dead, Rosgard! Dead!”
A Hedge... I missed.
Another one. And I instantly cast yet another, somewhat to the side.
Squeak evaded the first thorny bush that had appeared underneath him in a single graceful move, ramming right into the second Hedge that caught him by his feet. He lost his balance and fell face first — right into the third Hedge I’d cast, virtually depleting all of my mana. I cast that one running, taking giant leaps toward my downed opponent.
As soon as I got near Squeak, him still trying to escape from the deadly thorns, I leaped up and roared as I brought my staff down on my enemy, aiming at the head. The elf blocked the blow with his right arm. His HP level was back in the yellow. The strange sword’s blade flashed above the ground, scraping my ankles. I dodged the dagger that he threw at me, jerking my whole body away to one side, then grabbed my staff as a club and started to pummel at my enemy, virtually driving him into the ground. The yelling elf swung his sword around, occasionally getting me, but I kept my tempo up, even though I’d already been in the yellow zone.
“You swine, Rosgard! Take that! And that! Die!” Squeak kept on yelling, while I stayed silent all along.
I dealt him another blow, and then leaned backward, swinging my hand up swiftly and hurling my adder right at Squeak’s face. The gray snake flew through the air, hitting the elf in the chest, and instantly wound itself around his neck like a tight scarf — perhaps, one that was just a little bit too tight. The elf, who’d been trying to shout something, could only emit a hoarse rattle as he grabbed the snake strangling him with both his hands.
I instantly took advantage of this mistake, dealing him a few quick and well-aimed blows to the head. My fourth blow activated the Skull Clangor skill for the first time, and the elf’s eyes clouded. His movements slowed down instantly, becoming weak and unsure. His red HP bar flashed for the last time, going black the instant when I ran out of mana and the snake disappeared from the “dying” foe’s throat with a soft pop.
“Don’t... take... my stuff... Ple-e-e...” Squeak never got to finish whispering his famous last words as his face disappeared inside a blob of silver mist.
“How about I do what the hell I like,” I said, furious, as I got to my knees and stuck my hands into his “body.” He sure had a nerve to swagger trying to take my stuff away, and then instantly becoming a crybaby at the prospect of parting with his own. He was free to become a PK, but true PKs never whimpered.
I took all the elf’s possessions in one fell swoop, dumping everything into my own pack. There wasn’t much — just the money and his equipment. He must have preferred to run around unburdened.
I decided against examining my loot for a very simple reason — the nearest respawn location was in Mossy Hills, and I would very soon be facing a naked Squeak who would either attack me again in a harebrained and desperate attempt to reclaim his stuff, or start following me, treating me to all sorts of BS about how he only attacked me by mistake, begging me to return his equipment that was certainly obtained as a result of a long and hard toil. Been there, done that, got enough t-shirts for a Salvation Army shop.
Apart from that, I still hadn’t replenished my mana. So I started away from the village, heading for the nearest forest and musing on why so many players had thought that becoming a PK would make them rich quickly. PvP for profit was a true art, and you made the inevitable sacrifices.
I hurried — it would soon be evening, and I’d need to level up properly before I’d have to go back to old Jogley’s wake.
Damn that old coot! The nerve he had to expire so suddenly! But I wouldn’t let him go even after his death. I’d drink a toast to him at the wake, take a good look at the allegedly irresistible daughter-in-law, and head right for his grave.
I was thanking my luck and all the gods that I’d only run into amateurs so far. I wouldn’t last a minute against pros such as the Red Demons. Incidentally, I’d have to develop some tactic for fighting other mages. I wouldn’t be able to just stay put and wave my hands around with a dignified look on my face. My unassuming little snake was a pleasant surprise today — I’d need to develop the critter.
“Rosga-a-a-a-a-rd! You ba-a-a-a-a-sta-a-a-ard!” I heard a voice from a distance.
“I most definitely am,” I muttered as I quickened my pace.
This was worse than a daycare center. First a kid tries to take a toy he fancies away from another kid; when he gets a bloody nose as a result, he starts to bawl and call his mommy.
The forest was aspens and birches — all the colors were bright, and the landscape was pleasing to the eye. I kept thinking of vampires for some reason, though. Possibly, it was the creaking of the aspens in the wind.
Or was it the birches? I noticed strange wooden cups attached to some of the trees. Not all birches had these decorations, but quite a few of them did. This drew my attention, and I approached one of the trees to examine the strange contraption. The bark was pierced, with a small wooden trough inserted. Clear liquid was running down the trough right into the cup. There was nothing mysterious about it — somebody was collecting birch sap. It tasted nice, boosted HP and mana regeneration for a while, and was also a component used in many potions. I took my time watching the heavy drops that had almost filled the cup, then straightened my back and stepped away.
I instantly froze, as if running into a wall. Well, it was the next best thing — there was a young female player standing right in front of me, Level 63. She was human, with long hair the color of honey and bright green eyes observing me with slight surprise. She was twisting a small gnarly stick with a bunch of emerald green leaves at the top carelessly. All her clothes were in various shades of green, too. So that was who’d been collecting the birch sap.
“Hi,” I smiled my widest smile, and took a cautious step backward. “I’ve only been looking. I haven’t touched anything.”
“I know you haven’t touched anything,” Stormbringer, whose nickname I’d already read, smiled in response. “That’s why I’m not touching you, either. What exactly are you doing here, kiddo?”
“I live here,” I said in a dignified voice, making a helpless gesture with my hands.
The punchline from an ancient joke got me another smile. It seemed I wouldn’t get killed right away.
“But you’re still too little. Local mobs are too serious for you... Rosgard. What’s your class?”
“Uh... The kind that deals with magic,” I said, somewhat embarrassedly. “A nature mage.”
Judging by the clothes and the weapon, Stormbringer was the same class, but way out of my league.
“I see,” the player grunted. “There’s a group of you here?”
“Nope, I’m on my own. Leveling up slowly, but surely.”
“Who’s that, then?”
I wasn’t afraid to turn my back on the
young woman to look in the direction she’d been pointing. Had she intended to kill me, she would have done it already. However, having examined about a dozen birches and aspens, I noticed nothing, turning my head back at Stormbringer, a puzzled look on my face.
“There he is, hiding in the bushes,” the girl giggled as she pointed at a row of tall plants with thick wide leaves. “Give me a second... Level 18, name of Squeak. Judging by the color, an amateur PK, freshly-respawned.”
“Duh,” I said with some chagrin, checking my status automatically. “That one’s following me. He’d tried to rob me a short time earlier, but didn’t succeed.”
I reshuffled my spell, placing Summon an Adder in my left palm and waving my hand gently. A modest-looking grayish snake materialized in the fallen leaves, beady black eyes glinting for a second before it disappeared. The elf had found me, after all.
“Hold on a second,” Stormbringer stopped me and whistled softly.
A giant shadow dashed through the forest, and a huge brown bear presented itself, stopping right next to the girl. The beast must have been around seven feet tall — and that was standing on all fours.
Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2 Page 3
