World Tree Online- the Endless Savanna- 3rd Dive
Page 19
“Do we want to go back and try again?” Olaf asked.
“Not without Baby,” Rose stated firmly. “It might be worthwhile to have Harrison and Sooty with us as well.”
“Okay, then it sounds like we’re going back to camp for the night,” Olaf said, looking around for our campsite.
“Sparring when we get back to camp?” Rose asked as we walked through the tall grass.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Count me in,” Micaela said. “I think having our stats up near our level caps would be a good idea.”
“Same,” Olaf said. “I’ll head into the city first thing in the morning. I’ll be there a while. I need to hit the forge and see about making a new hand-cannon and some more ammo.”
Chapter 11 – Olaf
Morning came and after a lot of prodding, Olaf walked out of the camp and toward the Bazaar of Beasts. It was the center of commerce for the entire province, supporting several tribes that were scattered around the province. And in recent months, the Bazaar had been taken over by a player who then kicked out everyone that wasn’t a Beastkin.
As a result, Olaf, a Minotaur who counted as half-Human, half-Bull, had volunteered to investigate. Though for Olaf, the investigation was secondary to replacing the lost hand-cannon. During the siege of Anvilton, Olaf had a round misfire, blowing out the side of one of his hand-cannons, ruining the weapon and nearly taking his hand with it. The worst part of it, it was his own fault. After the battle was over and the city had been liberated, Olaf finally took a look at his one remaining hand-cannon, which at the time had a durability of 1/37 remaining. In other words, it was a hairs breath away from critical failure and if one hand-cannon was in that bad of shape then it was likely the other was as well. After using his ‘Maintenance’ skill, he was able to restore the remaining weapon’s durability at the cost of a few points of its overall durability, which left it at 33/35 after yesterday’s lion debacle.
Maintenance
Level: 100
Experience: N/A
Skill Effect (Active): Allows basic repair of equipment restoring 20 points of durability at the cost of 1 durability capacity.
Ideally, Olaf would be able to build up his ‘Blacksmithing’ and ‘Engineering II’ professions high enough to do the work himself without losing any of the overall durability but that was still a long way off. As it was, his ‘Blacksmithing’ was far behind his ‘Engineering II’ by 72 levels. It meant that the hand-cannon he was capable of making was limited by his ‘Blacksmithing’. At least this month looked to be a little slower and would give him time to work on those professions until he could make a pair of hand-cannons commensurate with his level.
“Good morning,”
“Good morning,” Olaf returned the greeting with a nod.
“State your business,” the other guard insisted, lacking all the friendliness the first guard exhibited.
“Looking to use the forge,” Olaf answered. “Maybe do a little shopping.”
“Name,” the same guard ordered.
“Olaf Crushhammer,” he answered.
“Proceed,” the guard said.
Olaf heard the smaller guard grumbling as he passed through the gates.
“It would not kill you to be nicer,” the small guard complained.
“It might,” the larger guard stated matter-of-factly. “What would happen if I was nice and he ended up being a mass murderer?”
“You did not even ask him about his class or if he was a mass murderer,” the Dogman retorted. Olaf lost the rest of the conversation as he continued away from the pair.
Inside of the city walls was an odd mixture of tents, huts, and mudbrick buildings, all in a variety of colors and styles, the only thing consistent was the differences. It was early enough in the day that the streets weren’t very full. In fact, it appeared most of the tents were closed-up tight. There were only a few with tent flaps tied back or huts with doors hanging open. Olaf watched with some interest as barrels were rolled out and tables were set up. A few even started displaying wares for sale. It was quickly becoming obvious that every tent, hut, and structure was a shop of some kind. It strongly reminded him of a Turkish Bazaar crossed with a British Antique Fair in design and layout, leaving him with the distinct impression he had just entered a labyrinth meant to keep him from ever leaving.
“Excuse me, which way to a smithy?” Olaf asked a friendly-looking Sheepgirl.
“Ah, you are looking for fine smith work. Please wait a moment, I believe I will have just what you are looking for,” the Sheepgirl said, quickly rushing inside her tent without answering Olaf’s question.
She returned with a maul resting on either shoulder, she was off balance as she moved, trying to carry the two massive weapons. When she finally came close enough, Olaf saw both of them were engraved with beautiful scrollwork, one inlaid with gold and the other with silver filigree. “Please, please you must try, guaranteed to crush the armor of any enemy,” she said, letting one fall from her shoulder and thump into the ground as she muscled the other one into Olaf’s hands before he could protest. “Only 50-Gold,” she added.
“I’m not here to buy,” Olaf tried to say.
“Fine, fine, 40-Gold,” she lowered her price.
“I really don’t need-” Olaf started to say before the Sheepgirl cut him off again.
“You push too hard,” she said. “But I can see you know good smithing work when you see it. 25-Gold, just for you.”
“Please, stop,” Olaf said, trying not to laugh.
“20-Gold or my children will not eat tonight,” she said, lowering the price again.
“Really, I’m just looking for directions,” Olaf tried again.
The woman harrumphed in annoyance and crossed her arms. “15-Gold, last offer,” she said.
“I’m not looking to buy anything,” Olaf said.
“Give it back. Maybe you do not know good craftmanship after all,” she said with a huff.
With a sigh of annoyance, Olaf just set the maul down and walked away. It was clear she wasn’t going to help him.
Olaf tried a few more times with different stalls but got the same results every time. Eventually, he ended up in a tent serving black tea, resigned to just searching through the city for the blacksmith’s shop on his own.
“Good day,” an unfamiliar voice said, drawing Olaf’s attention from his tea.
“Hello,” Olaf said reflexively, looking to the source of the voice. It was a Lionman with a golden mane of hair wearing a royal blue tunic. From the waist down he wore plate leggings and sabatons that were either painted or dyed white. Over his head floated a nameplate
“It has been a while since I’ve seen a new player in the Bazaar,” Leonidas said, smiling at Olaf, his rather impressive incisors looking both sharp and deadly.
“Nice to meet you,” Olaf said, standing and offering a hand to the Lionman. “I’m Olaf Crushhammer.”
“Nice to meet you, Olaf. I’m Leonidas Lionman, but you can call me Leo. I don’t know what I was thinking when I chose that name,” he replied, meeting Olaf’s hand with a firm shake and chuckle. “Mind if I join you for tea? I don’t see many new players in town and as real as the NPC’s can be, it just isn’t the same.”
“Please,” Olaf said, motioning to the open chair.
A waitress quickly brought tea for Leo and a fresh cup for Olaf.
“I never liked tea in the real world. Then I came here where it’s either tea or water. I suppose I have come to enjoy it after so many months,” Leo said, taking his first sip.
“I’m British mate, tea runs through these veins,” Olaf replied with a chuckle. “I do like the blend.”
Leo hummed appreciatively. “So, what brings you to the province? As I said, I don’t see many players come to town.”
“Adventure,” Olaf replied with a grin.
“Have you found a place to stay yet?” Leo asked.
“My friends and I are camping outside of town,” Olaf replied.
“Nonsense, we have very nice hotels. I can put in a good word for you,” Leo offered.
Olaf knew from speaking with Bye-bye that a player was in charge of the city, which meant that player probably had a very high level, like Leo. He also knew, that for whatever reason, the town didn’t allow non-Beastkin. As such, Olaf suspected that if he told Leo that his friends were non-Beastkin, it could cause problems. “I appreciated the offer, but my friends and I want to take the opportunity to improve our ‘Campsite Management’ skill,” Olaf replied. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“I see, a very good skill to have as you climb the tree I would assume,” Leo replied, nodding his understanding, then he asked, “Well, seeing as you have your living situation organized, is there anything I can do for you?”
“I actually came into town to work on my ‘Blacksmithing’ skill,” Olaf answered. “But, every time I ask one of the shopkeepers, they try to sell me something and refuse to answer the question.”
Leo laughed. “I see. Well, I would be happy to show you the way. However, just for future reference, that is the way of things here. If you are looking for information, then you must buy something. Little information, little purchase and so on.”
Olaf groaned, then complained, “A barter system? Really?”
“It is their way,” Leo said.
Olaf was struggling to see Leo as a villain. He seemed like such a nice guy. “So, what quests are around here that you would recommend?” Olaf asked. The fact that Leo mentioned he had spoken with the NPC’s suggested he knew how to farm up quests. There was a good chance he would be able to point him in the right direction.
“There are always the Hunter’s Union bounties, though they can be difficult with non-members. If you want quests, I would try speaking to the village representatives. They are not always in town and most of the help they need is specific to their village. Just be careful, sometimes a quest to help one village will hurt one of their neighbors,” Leo warned. “Sometimes intentionally.”
“Good to know,” Olaf said.
“Oh, and one last word of warning. Beware of any non-Beastkin you run into, the Hunter’s Union are not the only hunters running around the province,” Leo added seriously.
“Non-Beastkin?” Olaf questioned, hoping to get a little more information. And what did he mean about other hunters?
Leo only nodded.
“Why non-Beastkin? Did they do something?” Olaf asked.
Leo frowned and sighed. “I . . . it is a difficult situation. The Bazaar has banned all non-Beastkin, and for good reason. I know, not all non-Beastkin are bad. Unfortunately, there is a history of bad things happening due to non-Beastkin. As such, I was forced to ban them.”
“You banned them?” Olaf asked, hoping he sounded surprised.
Leo nodded. “I know I am a player like you, but I am also the Lord of this city.”
Olaf tried to look surprised. “This game never ceases to amaze me. Is this the City Building I heard another player mention?”
“It is part of it,” Leo answered.
“Wow, well good for you. But I must ask, even the players are banned?” Olaf asked.
“Even the players. You should know well enough that a great many of the players in the World Tree are scum of the worst kind,” Leo said, a snarl forming on his lips.
Sensing it was a sensitive subject, Olaf let it drop. “Alright, I understand. So, about these village representatives, anyone I should try to talk to specifically? Or, on the other side of that, anyone I should avoid?”
“Chief Gofi is the leader of the Rhinomen tribe. He’s . . . prickly, but a good leader and a good Rhinoman to befriend,” Leo answered. “If you meet Chief Chosi, watch yourself. She is as silver-tongued as they come. She leads the Cheetahmen tribe.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Olaf said, wondering if, in fact, Leo was a bad guy. And did that mean his recommendations should be reversed? Honestly, Olaf would probably try to speak with both of them and try to judge for himself. “Is either Chief in town?” Olaf asked.
“Chosi will be here later today,” Leo said, sounding less than enthusiastic about it. “I have a meeting with her this afternoon at 2:00. She is very punctual, always.”
“Would you be willing to make an introduction?” Olaf asked. “I know, silver-tongued. But maybe there is something I can do for her that will make your life easier.”
“You can try if you want. Believe me, I have,” Leo replied with a laugh. “But alright. Come by my office around 3:00 and I’ll make the introduction.”
“Thank you . . . but uh . . . where is your office?” Olaf asked.
Leo laughed again. “It’s on the way to the Blacksmiths, I’ll show you.”
Olaf was feeling rather pleased with the way things turned out. He had met the player responsible for the ban and he didn’t seem like such a bad guy. Got a few leads on some quests. And, he was going to be able to spend most of the day working in the blacksmith’s forge while he waited to be introduced to Chief Chosi. Bye-bye and the others couldn’t possibly get upset with him for doing what they asked, even if that meant spending the whole day in the forge.
The smithy Leo showed him was underwhelming. There was a single NPC blacksmith leaning lazily on a counter, which wasn’t very surprising as the Goatman was absolutely ancient-looking. The mudbrick building behind the old Goatman was equally unimpressive from the little Olaf could see.
“Mbuzi, this is Olaf,” Leo yelled loudly.
The old Goatman bleated, “Why are you yelling?”
“Let Olaf use the forge,” Leo said in a regular voice.
“What?” Mbuzi asked loudly, putting a hand up to his ear.
Leo slumped slightly. “Mbuzi, let Olaf use the forge,” he yelled.
“Stop with the yelling already, I heard you,” Mbuzi said.
Leo looked like he wanted to argue or possibly maim the old Goatman. Instead, he addressed Olaf and said a very simple, “Good luck.”
Olaf watched Leo go for a moment before getting lost in the growing crowd of shoppers.
Mbuzi snickered. “He is too easy to rile up,” he said.
“You were messing with him?” Olaf asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Mbuzi said remorselessly. “Might I ask, how do you know our . . . esteemed City Lord?”
“I just met him actually. He walked up to my table while I was getting tea,” Olaf answered. “Now, the real question is why were you messing with him? And from the way you said ‘esteemed’, it sounds like you don’t care for him.”
Mbuzi didn’t immediately answer. He looked Olaf up and down before speaking and completely disregarding Olaf’s question. “Now, you want to use my forge, correct?”
“Yessir,” Olaf answered, thrown by the sudden change in conversation.
“What level is your ‘Blacksmithing’ skill?” Mbuzi asked.
“Level 51,” Olaf answered. It was just high enough for him to work with bronze.
“Hmm, not much bronze is available in the province,” Mbuzi said thoughtfully.
“I have a supply of copper and tin to make bronze,” Olaf said.
“How much?” Mbuzi asked, sounding very interested suddenly.
“About a thousand pounds,” Olaf replied. Thanks to Olaf’s race as a Minotaur, he was blessed with excessive strength being able to gain three times the strength points of most other ra
ces. With his mining bag, he was able to carry a few thousand pounds of rock and ore rather easily.
“Well, perhaps we can help each other out then,” Mbuzi said.
“Oh, do tell,” Olaf said eagerly, feeling a quest coming his way.
“I received an order from the Meerkatman Tribe for javelin tips. And they asked for bronze, it is slightly lighter and stronger than copper. Given the Meerkatmen are relatively small, lighter weapons are preferred. If you would be willing to make the javelin tips with your metal, I would be willing to pay you by helping you raise your ‘Blacksmithing’ to rank II. It is a good deal for both of us, what do you say?” Mbuzi asked, prompting a quest to appear.
Professional Quest: Bronze Javelin Tips Made to Order
Blacksmith Mbuzi has offered you a commission to produce 100 javelin tips for the Meerkatman Tribe.
Reward: Training to ‘Blacksmithing II’, Experience
Do you accept this Quest?
Yes
No
“That sounds fair,” Olaf said, accepting the quest. Though 100 javelin tips seemed like a lot for just a day of work.
“Good, today we will focus on just smelting that ore into bronze ingots and then teaching you how to make a javelin tip,” Mbuzi said. “Follow me into the forge and we will get started.”
Olaf followed dutifully, though, from the sound of it, this quest was going to require multiple days to complete. The forge was built inside of a round windowless mudbrick building with the forge occupying the entire back wall. The wash of heat as he entered surprised him, for as small as the forge was, it was putting out an impressive amount of heat.
“Close the door,” Mbuzi instructed. “Then start on the bellows, we need to really crank this heat up if we want to melt the copper down.”
Olaf closed the door then moved to the bellows and began pumping air into the forge.
“Now, you asked why I do not like Lord Leonidas,” Mbuzi said, barely loud enough to be heard over the bellows. “It is simple. Ever since he took over the town, it has begun to die. Every day, another stall remains closed, the proprietor moving to Root City or another province where the business is not being choked out by hatred.”