by G. Akella
...returning scouts confirmed the destruction of the House's consulate in Misty Thicket...
...our dwindling chances, the lord ordered me to keep the letter safe while he executed a diversionary attack on...
...took the phantom pastures after fighting through the cursed web woven by the dogheads' dark mage. Knowing that my life's thread would break in the next several days, I hid the missive and headed northeast...
...the curse is devouring me from within, I will not survive this night... ...will send the missive with Gyrt. He cannot deliver the map, so I went and hid it in the third branch, concealing the cache with Alvaric's Hand of Fog.
May the crowns of the Great Forest rustle forever and ever!
Farewell.
Ryhn Falanir aka Silver Bough of Syndahl, Adherent of the Fourth Paw, Exodus Mission.
Cave inside the Five-Finger Mountain. Thirteenth night of the month of tepid water.
"I suppose we should be rejoicing. A unique quest and a new adventure, and yet... I don't have a good feeling about this," Alyona said with a shiver. "Did anyone get all of that?"
"Some kind of mission from some High House went into Misty Thicket carrying some kind of missive to the House's consulate," said Max, ticking off the points on his fingers. "They were attacked on the road by Darkaan forces, who apparently have dog heads. The mission was headed by a lord who bid the letter's author to try and escape with their precious cargo. The runaway did, but not before getting afflicted with some deadly curse, and now his corpse is lying in some cave in some five-finger mountain. Hiding somewhere nearby is the map indicating the location of the thing that his lord had commanded him to escape with. Does that sound right, more or less?" Max looked at the focused faces of his companions, scratched his cheek, and added. "All right, then. The only thing I don't quite understand concerns this Gyrt character who was with him. Who was he and why couldn't he deliver the map?"
"I'm guessing it's some kind of bird or critter. I heard about elven scouts using trained weasel-like creatures. Let me have a look," the rogue reached for the scroll. Taking it from Max, he brought it closer to a magic lantern and proceeded to study it intently.
"Bingo," Donut pointed at a spot on the cracked surface of the leather, then at another one. "See these holes? I think those are tooth marks. The scroll itself must have been attached to the neck, and the creature had to adjust it every so often. Here," he handed the scroll back to Max, and gave a yawn. "No need to speculate further, I think. The mission was sent by the Fifteenth House, that much is clear. They'll explain the rest when we get there. It's the 'getting there' part that we should be focusing on."
"We'll get there one way or another," Max concluded philosophically. "In the meantime, does anyone have any thoughts on where to look for Kirana's temple? I checked the map, and it would take us a century to locate it without any specific information."
"Didn't the goddess say it was on the edge on the Great Forest, bordering Darkaan?" said Helliona.
"The border between the dark elves' lands and the Darkaan Empire spans roughly one thousand kilometers. Plus, if the Great Forest has receded even five hundred more in the goddess' absence, that leaves us with one and a half million square kilometers to comb through. The temple is probably decrepit and not easily visible from a distance..."
"Let's stop guessing and start sleeping!" Rexar sprang to his feet. "I'm content to put our fates in Sata's hands—that's the name of the goddess of luck, right? Especially since she and our commander are on friendly terms."
"You're right," the warrior nodded in agreement. "We won't get anywhere tonight, so let's get some rest. We stand watch in pairs, standard schedule. We rise at oh eight hundred. Good night."
Sleep wouldn't come easily for Max on this night. The dead girl, the gloomy shrine of the dark god, the necromancer's derisive smirk—all the episodes of the past day raced through his mind, bringing little joy. The more the warrior tried to shake off the dread and fall asleep, the more he felt as though he were missing something important... Mercifully, there came a point when the visions faded, and Max succumbed to a restless, tumultuous slumber. And instead of the familiar twilit forest, he dreamed of a giant cobalt-colored bird...
When he awoke, the folds of morning fog were gradually retreating from the meadow into the woods, leaving behind large droplets of dew hanging off stalks of emerald-green grass that dazzled in the morning sun. Dew... Dew was the reason he hated waking up in the morning. He might be feeling differently if he were wearing rustproof mithril, but his half-iron, half-steel suit of armor needed to be cleaned with a clean dry rag every morning so as to prevent rusting. Not to mention, waking up in the grass made him feel as though he'd been hosed down in his sleep—suffice it to say, the sensation was hardly pleasant. The warrior washed himself using a bucket of water prepared the night before, and joined the rest of the party as they broke their fast on plain but hearty food. Once done with the meal, Max started to reach for a rollie when he noticed Alyona's alarmed glance at something behind him. He sprang to his feet and turned around.
Walking toward the camp from a line of bushes some thirty yards away was a level 90 dark elf warrior. His name, Kevin, glowed with an ominous color—the color red. He walked with his hands in front of him, palms open to signify his ostensibly peaceful intentions. He drew a doleful sigh as the party readied itself for combat anyway, but kept walking. Stopping twenty feet away from them, he spoke:
"We... I'm not here to hurt you. I simply want to buy a bit of food."
"Two more in the bushes on our right," Rexar said in the party channel. Bonbon took a step forward, raising his shield to block the healers standing directly behind him.
"Easy," Max commanded in the party channel. Sizing up the dark elf, he asked:
"And the two in the bushes—are they hungry, too?"
"Aye, they are," the warrior replied calmly. "If you decide to attack me, they will just leave."
"A priestess and a ranger, levels 90 and 91," Donut reported in the party channel. "That is all. I would need five seconds for the priestess, no more..."
"Stand down for now," Max grunted. "Let's find out what they really want."
"It's true, all we want is food! And we're willing to pay twice its worth," a frail raven-haired elven female stepped out of the bushes, looking defiantly at the warrior who had spun toward her. "Oh, quit it," she waved a dismissive hand in response to his withering look. "There are nine of them, including a stealthed rogue in the bushes, and that one is a ranger. If they want to kill us, there's nothing we can do to stop them. The location is swarming with guards, and we wouldn't get far even if we tried."
"You're pretty weird for PKers," Max grunted musingly, somewhat bemused by the tirade. "If you're in need of food, why not just take it from somebody?"
"And have two more weeks per corpse added to our redness? Thanks, but no thanks—we've got a month of hiding in the bushes already, and we're not looking for any extensions," spat out a tall fair-haired ranger named Alex, emerging out of the bushes after the girl. "We're nine levels away from a portal, but we can't get there in this newbie zone. And all the zone's exits are guarded by level 200 wardens—no way we can get by them," he shook his head, then looked right at Max. "You can tell your rogue that I see him. And dismantling traps from under his feet is getting tiring. My anti-stealth talents are maxed out—I've been mostly PvPing in the arena, so..." he turned toward the assassin's translucent silhouette, smiled and winked.
"Sorry, bro... that was dumb of me," the rogue returned the smile upon leaving stealth. "I had no idea you were so badass. "This guy really is tough as nails," Donut reported into the channel, his eyes boring into the ranger. "More than three hundred arena victories, and at least two epics in his gear. If things get hairy, Luffy, you sheep the priestess. Rexar, you stun the warrior, and we all focus fire on him. Of course, there's no reason to lay their cards on the table if their intentions were hostile to begin with..."
"We're no
t here to attack you, folks. Three against nine are crummy odds, even with all my badassery," the blondie spoke calmly. "We're not PKers—we simply fell for a stupid trap."
"Give these guys the leftovers, Bonbon. We'll pick up more grub in town, but they have another month of guerilla warfare ahead from what I understand," Max decided.
"Thank you," the ranger nodded as Bonbon handed over all the food left over from breakfast. "How much do we owe you?"
"Nothing! Instead, won't you tell us about that trap?"
"It's a long story," the ranger said with a sigh.
"It's all right, we've got time," Max pressed on. "Besides, if whoever or whatever has got you might be a danger to us, I'd like to know about it in advance."
"Fair enough, but we're going to eat during the story, all right? It's been a day without food—our Toughness will start ticking away soon."
Alex handed out portions of food to his companions, then settled on a fallen tree trunk.
"We're from Seattle. Merit is my cousin, and Kevin her fiancé. I've been playing for a little over a year, and they joined about three months later. Experience comes half as fast in the arena, so I didn't quite make it to 100. When the shit hit the fan, my teammates were scattered all over: two to Vaedarr, one to the dwarves in Kfar Hator, and the last one to the spiders in Louu. That's slang for drow, for those who didn't know. For my sister here," he looked at the black-haired priestess and smiled, "this life definitely beats that other one. PvP is in crisis mode—nearly all the arena junkies have quit. Everyone has got their own pain threshold, and though there are no penalties for dying in an arena battle, the sensations are hardly pleasant, believe you me. Whereas before NPCs never fought in the arena or in battlegrounds—aside from those written into a script, obviously—nowadays they rule the roost. Level scaling is gone, meaning I can just as easily encounter a level 200 elite as one in my level range. Even those around my level are a nuisance since they're almost always either Wind Talkers or Green Wardens." Taking a sip of beer from the bronze tankard, Alex shut his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. "We were lucky that Merit and Kevin had picked dark elves—that's essentially how our trio came about. Tank, dps and heals—I couldn't have planned it better! After the patch we made straight for Azharis, where the locations are all in the 80-100 level range. It's swarming with other dark elves, but there's still plenty of opportunity for questing and leveling. It was there that we met those two: Hikki and Ngae. They claimed to be Korean, though I knew right away they were lying. Three of my arena teammates were from Korea, so I could tell. They were either pretenders or genuine fans of the culture. Anyway, that's not important now."
Finished with his food, Alex rummaged in his inventory for a black pipe, then put it down with a sigh.
"Here, enjoy," Max handed him a tobacco pouch with a smile. "And I thought Americans didn't smoke anymore—at least according to CNN."
"Thanks, bro," the ranger grunted appreciatively. "If you listen to CNN, you'll think Americans don't smoke, don't drink, work nine to five, and live in suburban homes behind white picket fences with 2.3 kids and a dog. Don't put too much stock in all that, is what I'm saying. Plenty of folks still smoke, and that's especially true in Arkon."
The ranger filled his pipe and lit up. After taking a few ravenous drags, he exhaled the smoke through his teeth with gusto.
"This shit always happens when you least expect it... We ran out of both food and tobacco yesterday while in a caravan." He sighed again, and continued his story. "Anyway, we accepted those two into our party—five beats three every time, after all. With a frost mage and a rogue, our damage output blew up. They seemed to be good people at the time, but then... We stumbled into a rare quest chain—like, crazy lucky stuff by today's standards. Nothing particularly interesting or extraordinary in terms of content: a ransacked campsite of some elven expedition culminating in a small instance designed for precisely a party of five."
"You say nothing interesting. I say those beetles will haunt my nightmares for the next month," the priestess said with a shiver. "And those half-digested corpses in the cobwebs..."
"Well, yes, the dungeon was pretty high on atmosphere," the ranger grinned. "But that's not the point. The final boss dropped a rare level 90 priest chestguard, the exact one she's wearing now," he motioned at his sister and continued. "Merit had maybe a few hundred XP points left till 90, so she threw it into her bag. For reference, the chestguard goes for about a hundred gold at the auction house if priced to sell. That must have been the main reason for the shitstorm that ensued."
"I don't understand," Max shook his head, confused. "You got the chestguard, and it's your names that got dyed red... Or were there problems with divvying up the loot?"
"No, nothing like that," Alex said, pausing for a moment. "The five of us were all different classes, and we'd agreed at the very beginning that loot would be awarded based on specialization. Money would be split evenly, including proceeds from the auction house for gear no one needed." The young man shot a vexed glance toward the bushes from which his group had emerged, then took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke. "I had the sense Hikki's behavior was off after clearing the instance, but I couldn't have imagined they would try what they did. The final quest needed to be turned in to a hermit about a mile north of the dungeon—he wanted the final boss' chitin and mandibles for his apiary. That was actually what the lost expedition from Azharis had been after in the first place. The elf paid us ten gold each plus a few trinkets. Merit dinged ninety, but didn't immediately equip her new chest. If we only knew... We set out and made camp maybe a quarter mile from here, near a small creek. Now I understand why those two had insisted on skipping an inn," the ranger drew another sigh. "Supply runs were always on me on account of my increased speed on woody terrain, and if it weren't for three bushes of starleaf... I'm working on my alchemy and herbalism, and starleaf is a fairly rare herb even in 90+ locations, let alone here. I was ecstatic to have come across it, so I got down to work. The harvesting process takes some time, roughly three minutes per bush. That was when I heard screams coming from the meadow..."
"The rogue, Hikki, tossed me a level 70 dagger with intellect, asking me if I needed it," Merit picked up the story. "The bastard knew I specialized in staves, and the dagger was pretty crappy besides. So, just as I threw the dagger back to him, he and his buddy left the party, and the system naturally deemed it an attack... Before we even knew what happened, the mage sheeped Kevin, and the rogue rushed right at me. I screamed..."
"You've made it to ninety without ever hearing of this scam?" Donut seemed genuinely surprised.
"Are you always this smart or only in hindsight?" the girl narrowed her eyes angrily at the rogue. "How were we supposed to know about these scams? We've never even grouped with anyone else before Alex joined us. We never expected those bastards to stoop so low," Merit looked down in bitter contemplation. "Anyway, it's no use rehashing the past. My brother killed them both, and now all three of us are PKers..."
"Did you loot the bodies?" Donut inquired of the ranger.
"No, we're not complete idiots," Kevin replied for everyone. "We have two weeks till our new status resets—looting their corpses would add two more."
"All right, then," the assassin threw his hands behind his head and stretched, his face assuming an expression like that of a cat catching a whiff of yogurt. "How long ago was this?"
"About an hour ago. We really were very hungry, so we headed toward the inn in hopes of finding someone to barter with," Merit explained. "Why do you ask?"
"A barter, then," reaching into his bag, Donut produced a map. "You show me the location of the tricksters' corpses, and I'll show you how to go from red to blue. Not two weeks from now, but today. On the condition that you told us the truth."
"Sure, I'd tell you even if you had simply asked," Alex sniffed, indicating a spot on the map spread out on the grass with his finger. "Right here, by the creek. There's a steep shoreline of white clay with shrub
bery down below. I dragged the bodies into the bushes and hid them there."
"Excellent," the assassin nodded. "Now listen up. See this?" he pointed at the image of a small house drawn on the map. "That's the shrine of Setara the Winged, the goddess of justice for the uninitiated. It's maybe five miles from here. Your task is to make it to the shrine and shout 'I demand justice!' or some other pompous plea to that effect. That will put you under the goddess' protection, and nobody will dare touch you before her judgment is rendered. You won't be able to leave the shrine's territory either, but that's of little consequence. Then simply put a gold coin each into the charity bowl, slide your hands into the opening, and give your account of what happened. If you're telling the truth, it is highly likely that you'll be cleared of all culpability within a few short hours. But if you're lying, I strongly advise against taking this route. They say this shrine used to be something akin to a mailbox to the support team. Meaning admins would listen to the requests and act on the goddess' behalf. But now... It wouldn't shock me if the Winged Goddess herself administers justice, or maybe one of her servants. All I know is that this is your only shot at turning blue quickly. Surrendering to the guards means each of you paying a fine of one hundred gold per corpse—the fines have increased tenfold. And if you don't have the gold, you'd better be ready to work in the mines to raise it, which would take forever and a half, not to mention—"
"Hold up," Max cut the rogue short. "Why do you say that the fines have increased tenfold?"
"If you spent less time checking out females at inns and more times reading bulletin boards, you wouldn't be asking," Donut smirked, then turned to Alex. "So, are we good?"
"We're good," the ranger nodded. "Listen, whereabouts in Ellorian are you going to be? If your idea works, drinks are on us."
"The White Crane came recommended," said Max.
"I know it," said the ranger. "A decent spot, though I'd sooner call it a bear than a crane. You'll see what I mean," he grunted, handing Donut a vial of something. "When you find the bodies, position yourself upwind, about ten feet away, and sprinkle this powder. I'd left a few traps behind that will only despawn in twenty four hours. They're not going to kill you, but you won't appreciate the sensations, I assure you. Thanks for the good advice—we'll throw ourselves at the goddess' mercy and hope for the best..."
