by Galen Wolf
"Nice to see you, Bob. But it’s not a social call. I was looking for some information."
Bob bowed. “Well, you've come to the right man. After all, I am known as Mr. Information.”
I hadn’t known that. As we stepped up the stone stairs, I said, “What's been happening with you Bob, I don’t seem to have seen you for a little while?”
He sighed. “We were busy with politics for a long time, me, and Parzifal. You heard of the war with the Horrabians?”
“I don't know if you remember, Bob, but I was at Pennred the time I drove off Attila with that new Ranger guy Barcud.”
Bob nodded. “Barcud’s okay. It was down to him and all the hours he wasted playing Total War that we beat back the Horrabians. And now they see Horrabia is on the run, the Council of Vinab have finally agreed to back the war. Total shits.”
“All’s well that end’s well,” I said, quoting Shakespeare.
“It’s not over yet,” he said, puffing as we climbed. We were nearly at the top. Sheepishly, Bob said, “I got myself in a little trouble during the war.”
“Trouble? What?”
“You may notice I’m only Level 10 now.”
A gentleman never asks about another man’s level, but I must admit I raised an eyebrow to hear Bob was only level 10. He’d been 20 last time we met.
He pulled a sour face. “They killed me down to level 1, you know. “Attila, Loki, and Elrick had me in the Warlocks Guild. It's down to Barcud and his party that I got out of there. Achilles helped and the Druid Birog and you won't believe this – Harald Runestorm!”
“Harald Runestorm?” I was further taken aback by this. I stammered. “But Harald Runestorm is a complete bastard.”
Bob said, “Yes, but he loves Birog.”
“A murderous slavering thug is in love with a pacifist vegetarian?” I shook my head. “This world is very strange at times.”
Bob told me all the gossip about the doings of Birog and Harald and what happened to him in Horrabia and he also brought me up to date with the state the war. I had been involved, as I mentioned, at the village of Pennred. I had fought off Attila the Horrabian leader for the rangers. I hated Attila and was upset he'd come back to play the Greenwood, but he'd avoided me since I'd chased him off from Pennred. The gossip was all very interesting, but I had other fish to fry.
Bob's study at the top of the Astrologers Tower was gloomy. The walls were lined with thousands of books all looking antique. I idly wondered whether there were ever any new books; it didn't seem so. The usual implements stood on Bob's desk: a brown stained skull, a pack of Tarot cards and a ball the size of a grapefruit made from cloudy, faulted quartz. The windows were flung open to let in a little ventilation on that stifling day. I could hear the shouting of the dockers from the harbor just outside the city walls. Seagulls floated almost on a level with us because we were so high.
We sat. ”So,” Bob steepled his hands and fixed me with a friendly stare. "What's up?"
I told him of the visit of the Queen of Summer.
He sat back in his seat, clutching the arms of his chair. “The Queen of Summer? I've never seen her. Is she as fit as they say?”
“Fit?” I shook my head. “I don't know whether she does any physical exercise.”
“No, in British, fit means attractive. Was she fit?”
"Bob, you fox me with your idioms. Though I love the English language, you must remember I am from Toledo." But I sat back anyway, remembering the vision of youthful beauty that visited me and drank from my best china teacups. I sighed, “Oh yes, she is quite lovely.”
“And I understand they have immense power,” Bob said. “The gods.”
“They do. Fully maxed out in all skills.”
“What did she want to come and see you for?”
I winked. “You might not know it but the gods still play quests. They collect items, just like we do.”
“I don’t anymore. I’m sick of all that shit. I spy.”
I tapped the desk. “But most players collect items. The gods do too. And they have enemies, just like we do. Her enemy is the Queen of Winter.”
“Well that would make sense, Bob mused."Summer and winter – you know, opposites." He splayed his fingers on the dark wood of the desk. “How does this tie in with me?”
“She said she would give me her favor – which she said would be +10 stat boosts all stats for a month.”
“Wow!” Bob grinned. “You must have really tickled her fancy.”
And she mine, I thought. And she mine.
He said, “And what do you have to do to get that boost?”
“That's the trouble. She's given me an errand to run, but I don't know how to run it.”
“Oh?” Bob cocked his head. “Do tell.”
I rubbed my eyes. “In this competition with the Queen of Winter, they have to collect several artifacts. There's one called the Mirror of Revelation.”
“The Mirror of Revelation? What’s that do?”
“I have no idea. I guess it’s some kind of scrying implement.”
Bob looked interested. “It certainly does sounds like a scrying instrument. I wonder what kind of thing it reveals?”
I shook my head. “Bob, don't get too excited about the Mirror of Revelation. I get the impression it's only usable by gods.”
“So why can’t she get it?”
“Apparently there's some advantage to her getting it stealthily. So the Queen of Winter doesn’t know she’s got it.”
Bob sat forward. “I'm not trying to be rude here, mate, but why did she come to you and not a thief?”
“That's what I asked myself at first. But she said something about there being undead guarding it.”
“Undead?” And then Bob's eyes lit up. “And the undead can see through all stealth skills and invisibility.”
“And as a high level Bard I have the skill Music of the Dead.”
“I get mixed up with all your weird Bard skills,” Bob said. “Tell me how that one works?”
“The Level 6 Bard skill Symphony in music is used to fascinate everyone who hears our music and make them stop dead in a trance. If they fail their willpower save."
"Natch. Go on."
"The difficulty check is the bard’s level plus the level of the instrument, so a +5 mandolin for example, plus the bard's charisma bonus. Plus a luck component 1 to 6. So the difficulty check of my Symphony is between 42 and 47.”
“You know you always boast about being the best, Romeo…"
My fingers curled round the chair.
"…Maybe you are."
“However Symphony doesn't work on the undead. So at level 17 in Music bards get a skill called Music of the Dead, which is just the same as Symphony except it works on undead. Now different undead have different will saves. You know that the mindless undead such as skeletons have low will save? I think it's 10 plus a 1 to 6 luck component, whereas highly intelligent undead such as a Lich or a vampire have a high save and Music of the Dead isn’t much use against them.”
“So she envisages you creeping right into this place where the Mirror of Revelation is held – guarded by undead, the type of which you don't know – and simply picking of the mirror and waltzing out with it?”
I nodded. “I think that's how she sees it.”
“And what about you? How do you see it Romeo?”
I scratched my head. “I hope it's as simple as she thinks.”
He stood. “Let me have a look at my books for the Mirror of Revelation.” Astral Bob walked over to his dusty bookshelves. He didn't actually look through the books he searched on his HUD and came back with a red leather volume that was tatty at the corners. In silver script, part of which was rubbed away, was the title Artifacts of Delight by Anonymous.
“Sounds mucky,” I said.
He gave me a gimlet stare. “It’s not mucky. It’s learned.” Bob sat down and leafed through the tome. He jabbed his index finger at the yellowed parchment. “Here it is”. He
showed me the entry that hand written in black ink with illuminated capitals in red and gold.
It read:
The Mirror of Revelation is one of the greatest and rarest artifacts of seeing that the world has ever known. It was created centuries ago by the God Genesis. With the Mirror of Revelation, whatever is reflected in its surface of liquid mercury is the true nature of he who looks. So a vampire will be revealed beneath its disguise; a werewolf will be shown as the ravening beast he truly is, and an ordinary man's soul will be displayed in its naked honesty.
The Mirror of Revelation was lost centuries ago and is believed to be destroyed.
“Sounds cool,” Bob said. “But not as interesting as I'd thought. I thought it might be something I could spy on people with.”
I looked at Bob. Some of his habits worried me. He was a good guy but terrible at poker. That was why I invited him round. For someone with the second sight you’d anticipate that he would win more than most people, but that wasn't the case. If I ever needed little extra cash, I'd simply set up a poker game and invite Bob.
I said, “I don't care what it does, really. It's just that she wants it, and I’d do anything to please her.” I coughed a little theatrically and added, “I mean I’d do anything for the +10 stat boost.”
Bob narrowed his eyes. “I want to give you a bit of advice, Romeo.”
I listened. I hate getting advice, but it was Bob after all.
He whispered. “The gods are dangerous – they're not like us. They're as much above us as we are above the NPCs. They have powers and insights we cannot dream about and they toy with our lives here in the Greenwood. They're the developers after all.”
I corrected him. “They were the developers but now the game’s been taken over by Miskatonic Games.”
“And so”, Bob said. “That makes them more dangerous than ever. They now can inhabit this world with no responsibilities. They don't even have to keep the player base happy. I would be very careful of the Queen.”
“But she is so very pretty,” I said.
Bob sat back in a businesslike manner. “We have established what the Mirror of Revelation is. But I'm correct in thinking you don't know where it is. Would that be right?”
“I haven't got the faintest idea where it is. And that's why I'm here, Bob.” I gave a winning smile, trading on our friendship, but stopping short of using skills from the Influencing skill set. That just wouldn't be acceptable.
“I suppose I could try to Intuit the item for you. The trouble is Intuit isn’t a very specific skill. But I can try.”
“I will be really grateful to you if you could, Bob.”
Bob closed his eyes and splayed his fingers on the dark wooden desk. Soon began to mutter, "I see a mirror in the hands of Doreen the grey lady of Salonika, I see a mirror laid on the table of Elrick the sorcerer, I see a mirror smashed in the ruins of Ostral, I see a mirror in the dining room of Armboth hall, I see mirror in the showroom of the Rune Tower…"
“I interrupted him. Are you going to see every mirror in the Greenwood?”
He nodded. “That's how it works, Romeo.”
“It’ll take hours if you’ve got to go through everyone like that.”
He nodded. “As I said, Intuit isn't a specific skill.”
“You have any other skills that might help?”
“There's a similar skill to Intuit that we get at Level 10. It's Keyword Search.”
“Keyword search? That's not very RPG. Shouldn't it be called something like mystical magical elf something?”
“Keyword Search does seem a bit mundane I admit. The problem is it takes ages to do.” He stood and went to the scrying bowl that sat on the windowsill by the open window. It was a shallow bowl of black onyx. He said, “I fill this with fresh spring water from the Silver Stream, because it’s pure. I can’t use the Great River here in the city, because people piss in it. Then I leave the pure water here to be charged in the first moon of the season. After that I can do my Keyword Search.”
“So you type something in?”
He shook his head and. No, even though it's called Keyword Search it's just really like me thinking of a keyword and I think into the bowl. And then I come back later and there's a lot of images related to the keyword floating around in the water.”
“It sounds very imprecise.”
He tutted. I could see that I was offending him. To be honest, I didn't see much use in any of these scryer skills. I thought he'd be a lot more useful than this. I shuffled on my seat.
Bob raised an eyebrow. “Time to go, Romeo?”
I stood. “Yes, I have business to get back to at the theatre. I got some new dwarf NPCs who are going to be putting on A Midsummer Night's dream with me.”
Sounds good. I could see by his sarcastic impression he didn’t mean it. Bob has always been a philistine. He told me his favorite film was Piranha in 3D. I was on my way out. I said, “You must come round again sometime. I’ll get drinks in and invite the boys round.”
Bob nodded. “I bumped into Khuzud the other day in Pennred. You know he’s gone to be blacksmith there?”
I said," No, I didn't know that. I haven't seen him for ages. I'll invite Achilles and you can ask Khuzud and we can have a game of poker.”
Bob smiled. "I'd like that,”
I shook his hand. I really was very fond of Bob, even though he was such a bad poker player and didn't know it. Or maybe because of that.
As I was leaving he said, “I can't tempt you to a Tarot reading?”
I shook my head. "No, I'm good, but thanks."
5. The Play's the Thing
After leaving the Astrologers Tower, and emerging into the bright sunlight of the Theatre District, I got some tarka dhal and a chapatti from a street food vendor and wandered back to the Theatre Royal. I smiled self indulgently as I observed the canvas banner had already gone up advertising: “Coming Soon: Shakespeare’s Magnificent A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
I had a macro to handle all my promotion and advertising. The banner hung just below the crest of the Theatre Royal, which was a jeweled crown with three ostrich feathers emerging from it. The dwarfs on their cart sat there looking morose. Their deceased companion Starveling had gone.
I rubbed my hands and called out a greeting.
The lean faced dwarf with the grey beard nodded back without smiling. The fat blond one with the tartan waistcoat was better mannered. He jumped from their wagon and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. El Mejor, sir.”
“Señor El Mejor, actually.”
He bowed some more and pulled down the blue-hatted, red-faced one who bowed too. The grey beard remained on the cart.
I said, “Starveling? He’s gone. Did you bury him?”
Grey beard glanced at me scornfully. You don’t bury anyone in The Greenwood, they merely disappear.”
Tartan waistcoat said, “We NPCs believe that we return to the Code from whence we came: Code to code, pixels to pixels: We are all contained in the Algorithm.”
So the NPCs had a religion where the great program that ran the Greenwood took on the role of God. Interesting.
Grey beard said, still perched on the driving bench of the wagon. “Were you serious when you said you’d give us a job?” His expression was hard to read. I took him as a proud NPC who didn’t want to beg but knew the seriousness of his plight.
“Yes, of course.” I took out my keys and opened the tall black painted double doors of the Theatre Royal. When the play was on the audience would flood in through this very door. “Follow me, amigos,” I said. Then I turned, grey beard had got off the wagon. I said, “Could you park that round the side?”
He nodded and disappeared.
The fat blond extended his hand with a broad smile. He had a damp handshake but was friendly enough. “I’m Quince. This,” he pointed to the blue-hatted dwarf, “Is Flute. Bottom’s the one with the grey beard.”
Flute bowed again so low his dark beard touched the floor, as he came up he said, “So
rry about Bottom. He was very close to Starveling, what died.”
“But he’s always a miserable dog anyway,” Quince said. “He don’t mean nothing by it.”
