by Troy Osgood
They quickly searched the three Boarin bodies, finding nothing, not even any coins. Hall was tempted to try to get the leather kilts from the three. A skilled leatherworker would be able to use the material, but the Boarin were too heavy to easily move, and it most likely wouldn’t end up being worth the effort. He did grab the swords and shields, splitting them between his and Roxhard's pouches, both of which were starting to get full. They redistributed all the extra packs so each carried one, adjusting the weight each had and distributing the loot that would be sold.
He was getting tired of having to drop the travel packs when they got into combat.
Instructing Pike to keep circling above to keep an eye on things, they walked through the opening and into the courtyard. The stone of the tower was well worked, showing good craftsmanship and construction. The style was similar to other buildings in Essec so they assumed it was human made.
There was about twenty feet between the wall and the tower, overgrown grass with small trees and bushes. It didn’t look like anyone had been there in decades. Cobblestones, no longer smooth or flat and some missing, led from the opening to the ramp that led up into the tower.
Leigh had Angus stand at the bottom of the ramp, watching the tower. The cow was to alert them if anything came out while they split up. Leaving the packs, Roxhard and Sabine went left, Hall and Leigh to the right, exploring the courtyard between tower and wall.
“Sorry about the questions,” Hall said as they walked. He spoke quietly, not sure why, but not wanting Roxhard, and especially Sabine, to hear. The tower wasn’t that large, it wouldn’t take long to meet in the back. “This is just kind of new to us.”
“How is that?” she asked. “You guys were sounding a little crazy back there. Where are you from?”
“I wish I knew,” he answered truthfully. “But I assure you, we’re not crazy.”
She looked up at him, studying him carefully. She smiled after a minute. “I trust you.”
“I’m glad.”
And he was. For some reason, he wanted Leigh to like him, to accept him. He liked her. A lot, if he had to be honest with himself. She was extremely attractive, fun to be around. He stopped his thoughts and forced them back to the task at hand.
They found nothing hidden in the grass or along the walls. No chests or hidden trap doors. Nothing of interest. Roxhard and Sabine had found nothing on their side, either.
Angus was laying in the grass, happily munching away when they returned to the front. At least he’s facing the right direction, Hall thought with a sigh. Angus jumped up, pretending he had been on guard when they returned. Leigh laughed and scratched behind his ear. He gave a low moo.
The Boarin’s camp was inside the tower on the first level. A great round space with a set of stairs along the far wall and a hearth against the near wall, there was nothing of note. The ceiling was made of wood planks over beams and looked to be in decent shape. There were some rotted planks but the structure looked sound. A firepit was built in the middle of the room, three rough blankets laying around it with three packs.
A quick search of the packs found some cheese and dried meat, a loaf of near-moldy bread, and a couple ingots of iron, which Roxhard claimed. Buried deep in one, they found four silver coins.
Hall led the way to the steps, glad they were stone. He still went slow, tapping steps two or three higher with the end of his staff. None of them had Detect/Remove Traps so they had to proceed with caution. He slowed as his head got high enough to look onto the second floor.
The stone steps continued along the outer wall of the tower, bringing it to the second level which was another wooden floor on wood beams. This floor was also wide open, a single room, with a stone hearth above where the first was on the lower level. Seeing nothing, he continued up to the second level, stopping on the stone landing before the next run of stairs up. The others gathered around, Angus pushing them to make room.
None of them had any skills or spells to reveal hidden objects, so if there was something hidden on the level, they couldn’t see it with their eyes. Hall led them up to the third level. It was more of the same, the size just smaller. The stone stairs curved along the inner wall, the floor wooden and beams supporting the next floor up.
The stairs continued past the fourth floor, ending in a rotted trap door that led to the exposed roof. The ceiling was stone, small blocks fitted tightly together. The mortar was still solid, no light visible through any cracks. In the middle of the wooden floor of this level was a single small chest. It was low to the ground, wide, with nothing else in the room.
They all stood on the stone landing, not stepping across onto the wooden floor, staring at the single chest. Light shone in through openings that would have been windows and through cracks in the wall where stones had fallen or the mortar faded. The chest was roughly two feet long and only a foot high, if that. Made of a metal, they could not identify from where they were standing.
“That’s obviously a trap,” Hall muttered.
Hall tapped his spear on the wooden floor in front of him. First directly in front, then moving it out a little bit at a time in a straight line. The others stepped back, giving him some space. Tapping with the wooden end and then reversing the spear, Hall repeated the process with the metal tip.
Nothing happened.
Taking a deep breath, Hall lifted one foot and placed it down on the wooden floor.
Nothing happened.
He took another couple of steps, slowly and carefully. He was leery of traps but also didn’t trust the aged, wooden floor. It looked solid but he wasn’t taking any chances. He had seen too many party members rush into a room and be attacked by traps. And this, with the chest just sitting there in the open, was too good a bait. There was going to be a trap in this room somewhere. The trick was to find it without triggering it and blowing himself up.
They could have just moved on from the chest. Go up to the next level, look around, and leave the tower. But it would nag at him, at all of them. They were adventurers. They had not chosen a safe life. And it was a lone tower in the middle of nowhere. Everything pointed at the chest containing something of value.
He paused, realizing what he had been thinking. He wasn’t an adventurer. He just played one in a game. But now, he was considering himself a true and real adventurer. Not a person playing a role, but the role itself. He was an adventurer.
Pushing his thoughts back and focusing on the task at hand, he started tapping the floor again, reaching as far as the spear would go. He hit with the wooden butt end and then the metal tip, repeating this process as he made his slow walk toward the chest.
He stopped when he was a spear length from the chest itself. The chest wasn’t that deep. Long, thin, and only a foot or so wide. The metal looked to be dark iron, a dull black. The edges were banded in a grayer metal, steel or normal iron. There was no lock on the lid. No runes or glyphs to indicate wardings. Which didn’t mean much. They could be invisible or the trap could have been mechanical.
The floor was not that thick, Hall knew from the walk up. Just the wooden floorboards and the support structure. He had examined the ceiling while on the floor below and hadn’t noticed anything unusual, nothing that would indicate a mechanical trap under the chest.
Leaning forward, he tapped the chest with the spear, ready to fall backward and out of the way of any blast or spray. He just hoped that Leigh’s healing spell, Touch of Life, would be enough to take care of any damage he got from the trap.
Nothing happened.
He tried the metal tip of the spear. Still nothing.
The spear tapped the chest harder, moving it a bit.
He looked back at the others. Roxhard and Leigh looked worried, anxious. Sabine just shrugged.
Holding the spear tighter with both hands, he pushed at the chest harder, trying to move it. The chest slid along the floor, an inch then two and more.
Nothing happened.
There was nothing hidden under the ches
t. No pressure plate. Just the wooden floor.
With a last look back at the others, Hall took the final couple steps to stand in front of the chest. He wanted to be farther back, use the spear to open it, but there was not enough space to get the tip of the spear under the lid of the chest. Crouching down in front of it, leaning slightly back, he reached out and touched the chest.
He held still, expecting an explosion or a shock to go through his body, or even gas to start seeping out from the chest. Nothing happened.
With one hand, he lifted the lid.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hall didn’t realize he had been holding his breath, body tensed in expectation. Letting out the breath, he relaxed and looked into the chest.
It was mostly empty.
An open space with a small pouch, a long tube, and two sets of bracers. He pulled out the pouch, feeling the weight and the sound of coins jingling. A decent amount. Opening it, he dumped them out in his hand.
Four gold coins, twenty silver, and twenty copper.
Not a large amount but still more than they had currently.
Replacing them in the pouch, he set it aside and examined the bracers. One pair was iron, a dark color. They were unadorned, plain, but Hall could feel the magic around them. When he used Identify on them, they read a blue color, indicating their relative strength.
DARK IRON BRACERS
OF LESSER ELEMENTAL RESISTANCE
Protection +4
Fire Resistance +25%
Water Resistance +25%
Air Resistance +25%
Earth Resistance +25%
Not bad, Hall thought, setting them aside.
Magic on Hankath was based on the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Shamans were able to cast spells that used all four and were able to specialize in a specific element making those spells stronger. Speaking the words of a spell broke through the barrier between Hankath and the elemental plains, bringing that magical energy into the world. It then shaped it to fit what the Shaman wanted. As such, each spell was strong against an element and weak against another. Druids used the power of the planet itself while Witches manipulated the darkness of the planet. Skalds used their music to influence and manipulate the mind, pulling from the body's own energy.
The bracers, being resistant to all four elements, were excellent. Typically, an item only granted resistance to one element. The resistance translated to Protection against spells or damage of that element.
He picked up the second set of bracers. These were made of leather, a white color and a type of hide that he did not recognize. There were symbols traced into the leather, knots, and runes. Like the iron bracers, these designs were a blue color.
HUNTER’S BRACERS
OF QUICK STRIKE
Protection +2
Parry +2
Agility +2
The Parry skill bonus and being made of leather meant the bracers were meant for a Duelist. A dual wielding class with a Class Ability that allowed the Duelist to use a weapon like a shield, the Parry skill increased the Protection given by that Ability. Hall could learn the skill if he wanted, but doubted he would. He wasn’t supposed to get hit. Still, the other bonuses were useful to him.
Setting the bracers down, Hall removed the ones he currently wore. They were his class starting gear and were starting to show signs of heavy use and wear. Dirty, worn, the edges ripping and the stitching coming undone. Stowing them in his pouch, he picked up one of the white leather ones. It was larger than his wrist but when he slid the bracer over his arm, it shrunk to fit. He put the second on his other arm.
When both bracers were on, he felt a tingle through his body. He felt lighter, quicker.
Last was the leather tube. He knew what it was without opening it. The container was the same as the map he had found days ago in the Goblins loot. A treasure map. Where the other one was in a plain leather tube, this one was fancier. The leather was dyed a deep red color with gold thread stitching. The entire tube was made better, showing care and attention to detail.
He carried all the loot back to the others, handing the iron bracers to Roxhard.
“Thanks,” the Dwarf said, looking at the bracers. “Dark iron? Very nice.”
The map tube was held under Hall’s arm as he handed out the coins, an equal share to each. He had to shake the coins in front of Leigh’s face to get her attention, her eyes riveted on the tube.
“What?” Hall asked.
“Do you know what that is?” she exclaimed, reaching out to touch the tube, fingers hovering over it as if afraid to touch it.
“A map,” he answered with a shrug, figuring he’d examine it once they camped for the night.
“Not just any map,” Leigh said, her voice filled with excitement and surprise. “That’s a Masterwork map.”
Hall took the tube in hand and examined it more closely. Masterwork was the highest quality a crafted item could achieve. Some items made by a highly skilled crafter had a quality mark which indicated their greater than normal strength. The higher the mark, the more enchantments an item could have as well as more durability. Most items had no mark, being just average quality. Once a crafter reached seventy-five in skill, they could start getting markers added to their items, giving bonuses. Fair, Quality, Exceptional, and Masterwork.
Only a crafter of over one hundred skill had a small chance of creating a Masterwork quality item. Skills only got to one hundred so items would need to be employed to get higher and items that granted skill bonuses were very rare.
That was what the game had started out with when the maximum class level was fifty. As the developers had added class levels, they hadn’t added crafting levels. Instead, they had added realm crafting, where each new realm introduced had its own crafting levels and recipes associated with it so a player essentially started off at zero and worked their way back up again.
No matter what the new crafting rules were now, the value of the item that Hall was holding was immense.
Slowly, carefully, almost reverently, Hall pulled off the top of the leather tube. It was attached by a thin cord to the rest, and he let it hang. Turning the tube over, he held his hand under it and felt the parchment hit his palm as it slid out. Handing the tube to Sabine, he unrolled the map.
Congratulations!
You have uncovered a Treasure Map Level V.
TO THE FINDER GOES THE REWARD
Reward: +500 Experience
You cannot Accept this quest at this time.
Earn Minimum Skill of 40 in Cartography and Minimum Level of 20 to become eligible for this quest.
Failure!
You have failed to decipher: Treasure Map Level V
Skill Gain!
Cartography Rank 1 +.2
The map was old, parts of it faded, the edges of the parchment frayed. It felt weak in his hands, light, like the slightest movement would tear the map apart. With the other map, he had been able to read the notations marked in the borders and on the map itself. He was unable to with this one. There were notes, lots of them, but they appeared as nothing but random lines and dots. Nothing that made sense. No language that he knew.
There was one island featured, the edges of two others on the south and east part of the map. Only part of those neighboring islands were visible. With no scale it was impossible to tell the distances between them or the size of the one island shown.
“Can you read it?” Leigh asked excitedly.
“I can’t even tell what realm it is,” Hall answered. He showed them all the map and none could recognize the landmass.
He rolled it up, as carefully as he had unrolled it, and returned it to the tube. Capping it, he placed it in his pouch.
They spent the night on the first level of the tower, using the Boarin’s already created fire pit. The meal was taken from their supplies, no one wanting to go back down the hill to hunt for fresh meat at that point.
Except for Pike and Angus.
The dragonhawk had found a
mouse or squirrel and was off to the side, happily eating it. The cow had gone outside and happily munched away on the abundant and tall grass surrounding the tower.
After eating Hall had pulled out the new treasure map, examining it, trying to make heads or tails of any of the writing. It was all still a mystery. He gave up trying to identify the small island that was in the middle of the map, concentrating on the two shown in pieces, trying to figure out which ones they were. He couldn’t remember a formation like it was showing. Two larger islands close to a much smaller one.
It was frustrating. Without a reference for scale he couldn’t tell how big the islands were. The small one could only be a couple miles across and the others so blown up that he wouldn’t recognize them. Or the small one could be the size of Cumberland. There was no way to tell.
And he wasn’t getting any skill gains from studying the map.
He gave up, replacing it and the tube back in his pouch, instead choosing to watch the flames of the fire and the smoke curl up into the sky. Roxhard was already asleep, bedroll off to the side and snoring loudly. Sabine was sitting cross legged on the ground, the ends of her robe slipping to show a lot of bare leg. Leigh was once again using Angus as a pile, laying down with her head on the cow’s chest.
“Tell me more about these people that can get to level twenty-five,” Sabine asked, turning to look at Leigh.
“Not much to tell,” Leigh replied. “Very rare, very special. The kind of people that naturally draw others to them. The ones that become famous and do great or terrible things.”
“So, kings and generals? Nobles?”
“No,” Leigh said, shaking her head. “None of them were royalty or anything like that. Not at first. The ones I’ve heard about appeared out of nowhere. No real history or background. No one could remember them as children, or growing up. That kind of thing.”
