14 x Savanna Health Potion - Mid
7 x Savanna Health Potion - Major
9 x Savanna Mana Potion - Minor
9 x Savanna Mana Potion - Mid
1 x Potion of Jaguar Speed
2 x Potion of Monkey’s Ability
She’d all but cleaned out the town’s stores of advanced food, a decision that still made her a bit uneasy. But with the increased production capacity, the settlement’s stock would refill quickly, whereas no one in the party had even a single skill point in cooking. While they could forage and hunt to meet their nutrition requirements, it would slow them down and the food would taste terrible. Better to have the ready-made meals, and even better to have the buffs the advanced food granted.
She pressed her lips together when she scanned the rest of the list, wishing there’d been a way to get more Lightfooted potions made. The reduction to Fatigue would be awesome for the journey, but with only four potions and eight party members, it would make little sense to use them while traveling. If the search for the relic took them into a dungeon, though, she’d give them to the melee fighters who tended to run around more.
In any case, she closed down the UI, satisfied she’d brought everything that could help in the way of expendables. To complement her preparations, she’d asked Torald to bring the bulkier gear, stuff like spare weapons, armor repair kits, bedrolls, and a couple of canvas tarps in case of bad weather.
That settled, she tapped a finger on her thigh for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out an excuse to avoid her character maintenance a little longer. Unfortunately, she drew a blank, so it was time to stop hoarding her unspent attribute points. She pulled up her character sheet.
Character: Devon (click to set a different character name)
Level: 24
Base Class: Sorcerer
Specialization: Unassigned
Unique Class: Deceiver
Health: 412/412
Mana: 629/629
Fatigue: 16%
Attributes:
Constitution: 28 (+6 Stonehaven Jerkin)
Strength: 17
Agility: 21 (+4 Gloves of Deceit)
Charisma: 48 (+4 Big Girl Pants, +2 Champion’s Circlet)
Intelligence: 31 (+2 Frostwielder’s Belt)
Focus: 20 (+1 Gloves of Deceit +3 Champion’s Circlet)
Endurance: 27 (+1 Big Girl Pants)
Unspent Attribute Points: 8
Eight points to spend. Endurance would be the most critical for the journey, reducing the rate at which she gained Fatigue. If she spent most of the points there, it would also help out her combat because Endurance also affected health and mana regeneration, though not to the same degree. But she had also been neglecting Focus which mattered when she was trying to maintain a spell, in particular, the Wall of Ice that was so handy for splitting dungeon pulls into manageable sizes. After chewing the corner of her lip for a moment, she finally decided to drop five points into Endurance and the rest into Focus, then accepted and closed her character sheet before she could second-guess herself.
Over at the bikes, Chen was kneeling and inspecting the hub of one of the rear wheels. After a moment, he lifted the bike by the seat and pushed the wheel to get it spinning. The pedals remained motionless. Next he stood, the seat still raised, and squeezed the brake lever—another of his suggested improvements—on the handlebars. The wheel squeaked to a stop.
“How did you and Chen do working together?” Devon asked Tamara.
The woman sighed and shook her head. “Man, if I had his skills in real life, I’d put every bike mechanic in St. George out of business. But if magic actually worked in the real world, I guess a whole bunch of stuff would be different. For one, I would have been able to find a healer to fix my lungs.”
Hailey sighed at this. “Yeah. If only,” she said quietly.
Devon nodded, thinking all the people that could be helped with the abilities in Relic Online—and all the people that could be harmed. Of course, she’d take the risk on the harm if it could help Tamara. But at least she’d been able to get her friend riding again.
“So Chen says he was able to add some ability for us to adjust the bikes to our body dimensions,” she said. “Want to get ours set up?”
She glanced back at her friends and noticed Hailey looking at something with a faint expression of…shock? Horror?
“Guys?” the woman said, pointing.
Across the square, a half-naked man had stepped into the sunlight. Well, not exactly half naked. He looked as if he were wearing hotpants and a skin-tight T-shirt. And platemail boots.
“Uh, Torald?” she asked, her voice a bit squeaky.
The man, apparently unaware that he’d forgotten to put his armor—or much of anything—on, grinned and strode across the square, Manpurse of Holding bouncing lightly against his hip. Devon took an unwitting step back.
He held out a hand in greeting.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, accepting the handshake.
Torald blinked, confused, then looked down when he realized what she was talking about. He stuck a leg out and rotated it at the hip. “Yeah…I couldn’t find a razor.”
“Wait, what?” Devon glanced at Tamara, hoping the woman wasn’t too terrified of the paladin. They hadn’t had a chance to meet before now.
All at once, Tamara giggled. “You’re a roadie.”
Now Devon was really confused. Like, one of those people that traveled with rock bands?
Torald shrugged. “Guilty as charged. We don’t have anything but asphalt in my area of Pennsylvania.”
“Guys, I’m confused,” Devon finally managed to say.
“A road biker, the kind that rides on skinny tires on pavement,” Tamara explained. “Thus the spandex.”
“Spandex?”
“Lookee there, boys!” came a dwarven shout from across the square. “He’s turned up in nothing but ‘is skivvies!”
The dwarves had managed to snatch one of the bikes away from Chen, and now one of the stumpy-legged folk was sitting on the seat, feet dangling a good eight inches above the pedals. Two of the rider’s clansmen were holding the bike up by the handlebars and seat, making whooshing sound effects and pushing the bike around between bouts of laughing at Torald.
Near the center of the square, the pushers counted to three, sprinted, and sent the rider careening for all of about five feet before the bike crashed. The pair who’d done the pushing laughed uproariously as the victim laid a hand on his head and groaned.
“My garments are not spandex, technically,” Torald said. “The item descriptions call them a delicate wool blend, gentle on the nether regions.”
Devon grimaced, while Hailey raised an eyebrow. “We’re skirting the edge of TMI, dude,” the seeker said.
“I do have a question, though,” Devon said before she could stop herself. “Did you happen to get that outfit at the same place you purchased your manpurse?”
Torald smirked at her. “For your information, I was given quite a few layers of underarmor and padding when I took the platemail proficiency. You seriously don’t think I go around with nothing but my birthday suit under all that metal, do you? I mean, the pinching could be catastrophic.”
Devon gave an over-exaggerated cringe. “We were just discussing the notion of TMI, weren’t we?”
Torald laughed, still seeming completely unashamed of his attire. Devon had seen herds of highway cyclists—she hadn’t known they were called road bikers—migrating like caribou through St. George in the spring and fall and yeah, most turned up in these kinds of skintight outfits, seemingly oblivious to the fact that most of their anatomy was on display.
And when she thought about it, it did seem that riders of both genders had surprisingly hairless legs. She’d never really paid enough conscious thought to realize the men were shaving theirs, too. But did that mean that Torald shaved his legs in real life? What did his friends think when he showed
up for some sort of barbarian LARP with baby-smooth legs? When she realized she was smirking in amusement, she quickly straightened out her expression.
“And anyway,” Torald said. “I’m pretty sure no one would want to be downwind of me if I were to do this ride in platemail.”
Tamara laughed and plugged her nose. “Oh man, yeah.”
Devon finally turned her attention away from Torald’s ridiculous outfit and glanced at the bikes. “I guess we’re about set then, right? Just need Jeremy.”
“I seriously wouldn’t want to see Greel’s face if he heard you say that,” Chen said as he walked up to join the group.
Devon laughed. “Actually, I was secretly hoping he’s listening in.”
As they started for the bikes, a godawful blatting sound filled the square. Devon grimaced and clapped her hands over her ears as Jeremy strode in carrying one of those antique bike horns with the big red squeezy part. He squeezed it a few more times, cocking his ear like he was learning an instrument.
Devon glanced at Hailey. “We don’t really need a haste buff, do we?”
Hailey curled her lip apologetically. “Unfortunately, yeah. Given that the last time I rode was in elementary school, I think we need all the help we can get.”
Devon sighed as loud as she could and rolled her eyes, making sure Jeremy could see the gesture. He just laughed and started searching for a spot to attach his horn to one of the bikes.
“Well, if we’re quick, we might be able to get out of town before Gree—”
The somehow shrill sound of Greel clearing his throat made Devon hunch shoulders as if hearing nails on a chalkboard.
“Fortunately, I’ve arrived to save you from saying something stupid,” Greel said as he marched into the square, followed by his lackey. “And now that I’m here—wait…”
He trailed off, eyes narrowing as he looked at the collection of bikes. “I believe we agreed on a two-seater so that my apprentice could provide power to those things you call pedals.”
Devon grinned and nodded at Chen, who rushed toward a darkened alley between buildings. This part of the preparations almost made the prospect of Greel’s company worth it. Moments later, Chen emerged wheeling another bike.
“But there’s only one seat on that one too. I don’t…” He trailed off again, as, behind the new bike and attached to the rear wheel’s hub by a long ironwood pole, came a ridiculous-looking trailer. Much like the seasonal migration of road bikers through St. George, similar conveyances were all over the city and trails, especially in the spring and fall. Some insane parents who didn’t want to give up riding even though they had perfectly good, pint-sized excuses to sit safely at home, dragged their poor kids around in the things. Devon had even insisted on having a five-point toddler harness installed. For Greel’s safety, of course.
“No,” the man sputtered. “I will not suffer the indignity of sitting in a compartment sized for a…for a…in that thing. I am meant to be up at a lofty height, ready to apply my keen eyesight to our avoidance of threats.”
“Oh yes,” Devon said. “I even had a special crash helmet and the facemask fashioned for you. Wouldn’t want to squander health potions if there happens to be an accident.”
The lawyer looked to Valious for support, but the man just shrugged. Devon liked him for that.
“Well, shall we,” she said.
As the group mounted up, everyone but Greel smiling and cheerful at the prospect of an adventure, a message popped into her view.
You have gained special skill points: +2 Improvisation
Honestly, the bikes are a good idea…did not see this coming.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
THE LATE-MORNING sun warmed Devon’s back, sinking through the thick leather of her Stonehaven Jerkin as the group pedaled along the wagon track. They rode double file in the parallel ruts, wheels bumping over rocks and potholes. Devon kept her eyes pinned to the trail ahead, gripping her handlebars tight and sometimes forgetting to blink. The track wasn’t quite as narrow as the mountain bike trail Tamara had taken her on in real life—at the time, it had felt as if the bushes and boulders were attempting to eat her—but it was definitely too skinny for someone of her dubious cycling skill to attempt casually.
At the rear of the party, Greel’s trailer jostled along, canted at an angle because one of the wheels kept getting stuck in the rut while the other plowed through grass that had been pressed flat and broken off by the wagon beds passing over it. The lawyer gripped the sides of the trailer with blanched knuckles, his eyes white-rimmed. His crash helmet jiggled on his skull, and his lips were pulled back from clenched and rattling teeth.
This was definitely worth it.
In front, Tamara and Torald set a moderate pace, chatting and taking in the scenery. Tamara kept one hand on the handlebars while sitting upright and gesturing with the other as she regaled the paladin with tales of St. George rides and asked about his gaming experience. Torald told her about his early days in Relic Online and his recent specialization quest, occasionally pointing out landmarks that Devon hadn’t noticed before.
As Devon’s thoughts started to drift toward the city and the challenges to come, she felt the Greenscale Pendant bouncing against her breastbone. On her index finger, the Azuresky Band rubbed against the handlebar, creating a little blister where it pinched her palm just below her finger. Like the pendant, the ring seemed to warm as they drew nearer to the city. She couldn’t feel the Ironweight Key inside her backpack, but somehow she felt she could sense it. The other relic she’d recovered, the Blackbone Effigy, was currently resting in a little niche in the Shrine to Veia, strengthening the shrine’s power—especially its ability to repel demons.
It seemed so long ago since she recovered the first of the relics, and now she was heading to retrieve the last one. What would happen when—if—she managed to secure it? How would she actually take possession of the city? Just walk in and declare herself supreme ruler? She snorted quietly at the idea.
If it didn’t happen automatically, the first thing she would probably try would be to find the Vault of the Magi that the Ironweight Key was supposed to unlock. If nothing else, it sounded cool, and it was the only specific mention of an Ishildar location amongst the item descriptions. Of course, how to find it was another problem. With the city stretching for around ten miles in every direction, that was way too much area to search.
Maybe the game would give her some more instruction once she’d reached that point.
Due to the easy pace set by Tamara and Torald, Devon’s Fatigue score climbed no faster than it would have if she’d been walking. When they reached the bend where the road turned toward the mountains, her butt was sore from bumping over ruts, but she’d only hit 40% Fatigue. Though the sun had climbed to its high point, a fresh breeze from the Argenthals cooled her skin. Squeezing her brake to stop beside Tamara, she grinned.
“So? How was it?
Tamara’s eyes shone. “So awesome. Seriously the best time I’ve had since the crash. I don’t even mind that we have to portage.”
“Portage? What’s that?”
Raising an eyebrow, Tamara snorted and gestured toward the waving grasses that stretched toward the wall of jungle that stood between the savanna and Ishildar’s border. The woman picked up her bike and stuck her arm through the frame where the bars made a triangle. Balancing the bicycle on her shoulder by supporting it under the top bar, she turned a smirk on Devon.
“Ready to hike?”
Devon groaned. How could she have failed to think about this lovely detail?
***
“I think I’m dead. Do I look dead? Because I feel dead.” Devon lay sprawled on top of a carpet of vines and fallen leaves. Beside her outstretched hand, her bike lay where she’d dropped it while collapsing onto the clearing floor. Blinking, she stared up into the jungle canopy where the late afternoon sunlight fractured into thousands of shining patches between the leaves. Ever
y muscle in her body hurt. The bones too. And probably some other stuff like internal organs.
Tamara laughed. “You did good, Devon. I’ve seen grown men turned to heaps of whimpering Jell-O by portages of that length. And that was without all the spiders and vines and 100% humidity.”
Devon groaned. “Don’t remind me.” But it was too late, and a parade of memories marched through her head, recollections of endless fallen logs and tangled underbrush and grasping vines that had snagged her handlebars, feet, even her hair. She swiped a hand down her face, unable to banish the feeling that a coating of cobwebs still clung to her skin.
“Well, if nothing else, I think we’ve learned why mountain biking hasn’t caught on in the Amazon basin,” Torald said as he picked up Devon’s bike and carried it to the tree trunk where he and Tamara had neatly leaned theirs. For the jungle portion of the portage, he’d put his platemail greaves back on to protect his legs. The new look—his skin-tight tank top emerging from what now looked like an oversized, metal lower body—was possibly even weirder than the hotpants.
“Thanks, Torald,” Devon said. Groaning, she managed to lever herself into a seated position so that she could get at her backpack and inventory. “Anyone hungry?” she asked as she pulled out a Termite Turnover. The little cake crunched as she bit down, then crackled with each chew. For once, she didn’t even care about the insect parts she was munching.
Tamara smirked. “Nothing like a day on the trail to stimulate the appetite, eh? I think I’ll pass on the termites, though.”
Devon shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
As she ate, she glanced through the trees to where the forest opened up a few yards north of their clearing. Between some of the trunks, she could make out Ishildar’s stonework, clean lines of marble and light-gray limestone catching the last of the afternoon sunlight. With dusk not far off, they’d agreed it was best to set camp and rest—not that Devon could have made it much farther anyway; her fatigue was at 92%. Much longer, and she would have flat-out collapsed. The other party members looked equally worked, except Torald and Tamara, who seemed to have leveraged their out-of-game biking knowledge to minimize Fatigue gain. Even Jeremy seemed to have lost his snark. He sat with his head bowed and simply nodded in gratitude when Torald fetched his bike.
Vault of the Magi: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 5) Page 22
