Nick sighed. Could he just enjoy five minutes without this asshole breathing down his neck? At least he hadn’t spawned near Kain.
For the first time he responded to a message in-game -
BaronFuckAss: Morning Kain. Look forward to seeing you out on the sand.
KainDestroyer18: Your blood on it, baby. Yours.
BaronFuckAss: Gotta get to me first. Bitch.
Nick normally hated the banter that went on in PvP sessions, so he didn’t know why he’d responded. Maybe it was because he felt better than usual. Or that he’d finally worked out that trash-talking Kain helped to reduce some of the fear he instilled.
Whatever the case, he was alert and ready to go. His strategy would be the opposite to the one he used yesterday. This time, he would hunt the hardest beasts. He wouldn’t worry about dying. He would accumulate XP. Grow as a character. Git good. Wield the dream weapon. Become the badass he’d always hoped he could be.
At the base of the next dune valley he engaged his first enemies. A family of black beetles emerged from a small hole and attacked without provocation. Nick elected to dual-wield his maces rather than fight sword and shield. It meant that he received more damage but it also sped things up considerably.
He didn’t have time to draw and isolate - Bariz was going to be about rapid destruction and furious leveling up. It took him a while to get used to the various ins and outs of dual-wielding relatively light crushing weapons but he was soon turning the beetles into sticky green plasma.
The beetles didn’t yield much XP but there were plenty of them, making for some happy butchery. Unfortunately they didn’t yield any loot, but Nick was getting used to Oakshield Junction’s stinginess. He was just about to leave the area when a squeal preceded arrival of a huge black beetle - clearly the mother of the clan.
Nick smiled and circled the beast, glad to have something meaty he could sink his teeth into. The beetle was reasonably quick and landed a couple of hits, draining Nick’s HP by a third. Wondering if he needed his shield, Nick tumbled clear of the next thrust and beat up on the creature’s flank.
Frustratingly, his blows did no damage. Frowning, he evaded the next attack and moved round to the beast’s rear. When he struck at its lower back its entire body quivered. Curious, Nick drew another attack, evaded, then maneuvered to the same spot.
Trying a power attack with both maces this time, he struck hard. The beetle flipped over, forty hairy legs flailing in the air. Nick had to wait a moment while his stamina recovered, then he slammed his weapons against the thing’s soft underside. Its HP drained to less than 50%, then crashed to zero as Nick squeezed another hit in. The huge carcass turned to ash and blew away, depositing a tantalizing loot package. He scooped it up eagerly - a midnight beetle plate. Something he might be able to give to a blacksmith later.
Time to continue farming. Nick headed north-northeast, hoping he’d encounter more farmable creatures. Hopefully something challenging too. He didn’t want to strike into the heart of the desert just yet.
Over the next dune he encountered a nest of scorpions, which he dispatched with little difficulty. By the time he was done, however, he was down to under half his HP due to residual poison damage. The price of dual-wielding. He didn’t have any healing herbs either. In better news he was able to level up. Another point to STR. It felt reckless to be so lopsided in his skill allocation, but all he had to do was think of the halberd and his concern melted away.
Nick was sweating profusely by the time he reached the top of the next dune ridge. Blinking the salty sweat from his eyes, he saw a lone figure under a crude shelter two dunes over. He set off for it, smiting several scorpions on the way.
Though he was facing the other direction, the man under the shelter seemed aware of Nick. The pixel runner considered attacking him from behind, but instinct stayed his hand. This guy was a merchant, he was sure of it.
“Look at them all,” the strange man muttered in disgust, not bothering to turn around.
Nick approached the lip of the dune. The first thing he noticed was the man’s skin - drawn and parched, similar to a ghoul’s but not bloodless. He was looking down on a settlement. Traders on large, tusked creatures moved slowly through a cluster of sandstone buildings.
“I take it you don’t like them,” Nick said.
“It’s not as blissfully simple as that, stranger,” the pseudo-ghoul said darkly. “She assured me I’d be able to stay.”
“You’re betrothed to someone down there?” Nick said, reading between the lines.
“Aye, boy, aye,” came the reply. “Since our Dance of the Dawn. I was bitten by Jago not long after that.”
“Jago?”
“The corpse scorpion. Curse of the Sands. It ventures this way to feed every few years. I was bitten defending the outpost. My kin cast me away soon after.”
Nick’s heart went out to poor wretch - his story was filled with pain.
But the pixel runner was thinking about his own survival. He could see a fellow runner down there, dealing with the merchants. A string of calculations ran through his head. He didn’t need to trade. He wanted to level up. How many levels could he burn through if he torched the entire settlement? The act would earn him everlasting infamy in the annals of Oakshield Junction, but being able to wield that halberd was a tantalizing prospect.
Plus, all those Hate points could lead to a tasty payment. He thought of Emily. The gift he could bring on their date.
“My friend,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you - I bring violence to this place. Tell me what your betrothed looks like and I’ll spare her life.”
Nick would never forget that ghoulish face as it split into a repellent, lipless smile.
“Kill her,” he hissed.
Nick blinked. It was like that then. It made his job easier.
“I have nothing to sell,” said Pseudo-ghoul, “except skills.”
Nick would’ve jumped for joy if he had the energy. Finally, he could get his skill tree started! They were so fucking hard to find in this game!
With his halberd and a few skills, Nick would be ready to take on the world. But there was one problem - he had no crowns.
“Go,” Pseudo-ghoul said. “Those fools will have crowns on them.”
Nick nodded. He equipped his reinforced steel buckler in the left slot, figuring he’d need it. There would be enemies coming from every angle in just a few moments, and he needed to shore up his defensive rating.
All set to go, he took a deep breath and scrambled down the dune face. The pixel runner would need to be dealt with first. He could see the name tag above the crowd - Gameson55.
A cowled figure, male judging by his size. Looked like a Brigand, Oakshield’s version of a rogue/thief. They were usually straightforward to fight once you had them in the open, but there was the odd nasty surprise.
This was one was dealing with a merchant, probably stocking up on poisons and resins. Brigands were a curious breed of gamer. Some liked to progress through a game with minimal kills, proving their skill through exquisite stealth. Nick could appreciate the ambition - it was a pure form of gaming.
Other rogues were loot hounds, addicted to cracking every fucking door and chest in a game. Nick could understand that too, but he felt rogues were limited by their lack of offensive options. Still, Oakshield Junction did have an attribute devoted purely to guile. He’d never seen that before, and wondered what kind of builds were possible.
He was about to find out. Gameson55 sensed his presence even though he was in the merchant screen. Could be a perk related to guile. As GUI builds were completely foreign to Nick, he needed to tread carefully. His opponent circled him calmly, producing a medium-length dagger to wield with both hands. Nick tracked the movement with intense concentration. GUI builds probably benefited from heavy AGI augmentation, so this guy might be able to get behind him in a flash.
Gameson55 was cleverly drawing Nick into the NPC crowd, where a stray blow would cause all k
inds of mayhem. Nick tumbled backwards, and for a few horrible moments he thought he’d lost his quarry. The inevitable attack came from the side, and Nick only just saw it coming.
The dagger, which was now tinted green, rang out against his shield. Nick stepped back, watching to see if his opponent was stunned. He wasn’t. Gameson55 tumbled close to Nick and somehow got in behind him. This time his dagger struck home, knocking Nick forward and draining 600 HP, plus 300 poison damage over the next few seconds. Nick ended up at 25%, which made him feel like he was already out of the game.
If Gameson55 killed him, that was it. He’d have to go back to Sea Eagle, where an obscenely expensive sec guard was waiting for him. Worse, he’d have nowhere to live. Emily would think he was a loser and drop him like a hot potato. These dark thoughts raced through his head as he raised his shield and let his stamina creep back to max.
If the Brigand could move so quickly and backstab with such devastating power, how was he going to survive? Gameson55 was also a level above Nick. Which was surprising, since in his experience rogues tended to level up slowly. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. It was easy to forget one of the golden rules of role playing - when in trouble, use the terrain.
Nick backed up a staircase leading up the side of a nearby building. Gameson55 had no choice but to follow. At least here his backstab was an impossibility. It was critical that Nick avoid over-extension - Gameson55 was sweating on that kind of error. It was basically what all rogues waited for.
Nick held his shield aloft and settled into the kind of conservative, gritty fight he knew so well. He was very hard to beat in this position - as long as he stayed on the stairs. Gameson55 tried to work him around, buffet him off the narrow causeway, but Nick was as solid as a rock. As soon as Gameson55 made a mistake he would pounce.
It came after two minutes of foxing and feinting. Gameson55 slashed with his knife and it struck the sandstone wall. Nick immediately cracked him over the skull with his mace, sending him tumbling down the stairs. There was no time for holding back. Nick was near-dead and needed to close.
He tumbled down the stairs and timed his follow-up attack perfectly. It didn’t kill Gameson, but stunned him for a split second. A simple shield butt and the Brigand was dead before he hit the ground. Nick breathed in deeply as the name tag disappeared. Just another casualty of Oakshield Junction.
2000 XP for a pixel runner leveled above him - not bad. Nick pumped another point into STR without even thinking about it. He was inching closer to that elusive halberd. It was time to farm the innocent NPCs. Of course, he began with Gameson55’s loot.
The Brigand had a seriously good cowl that boosted GUI by 10. It was a pity that Barbarians didn’t have a slot for cowls or capes. He also found a poison-enhanced dagger called “Stinger”. The other stuff was generic Brigand fodder - bombs, throwing knives, lockpicks, traps. Nick sold most of it at a weapons dealer, keeping Stinger as a backup weapon. You just never knew when you’d need something devious.
The cowl was particularly valuable, netting 5000 crowns. He used the funds to replenish his healing stocks at a herb dealer. Leveling up had already maxed his HP. The next item of business was a strategy for dealing with the NPCs. How strong were they likely to be? There were RPGs that punished you for attacking helpful townsfolk, but there were others that reasoned that the hero was obviously more than a match for a pumpkin farmer.
Nick suspected Oakshield leaned toward the realism of the latter option, which was why he was about to risk everything on a taboo attack. Technically, if the mob killed him, he’d simply respawn. If he defeated the mob, the rewards were huge.
The stairs seemed like the best place to be a one-man-wrecking-crew. All he had to do now was strike his first victim. After a brief reconnaissance, he determined that the closest thing to a warrior in this outpost was a guard in leather armor.
Nick belted him over the head, draining 75% of his HP in one hit. An encouraging start - this trading post was going to be the best farm ever. He followed up with a second, standard blow that killed the lowly fighter outright. Screams and challenges erupted as the man fell. Nick backed into his safe zone on the stairs as an angry mob formed to tear him apart.
Pain shot through is skull as a fat merchant clubbed him from behind. Nick fell down the stairs to lie at the feet of the baying crowd. He was stabbed, kicked, and punched, his HP taking a massive hit. He lashed out with his mace but didn’t actually connect with anyone. He tried to run but was chased down by a group of fucking kids, who pelted him with rocks until he was dead.
The world went black and Nick couldn’t think of a worse RPG humiliation. If he was playing alone, like he normally did, it might have been OK, but that was probably the worst executed plan in RPG history. Still, nothing of value was lost. He respawned on the dune opposite Pseudo-ghoul and had enough crowns to see about some skills. The curious figure under the shade cloth was making a huffing sound. Nick realized he was laughing at him.
“I’ll finish the job later,” Pseudo-ghoul said, and Nick’s smile faded.
The skills on offer were interesting, even though there was nothing explicitly tailored to a strength build.
Katana Training +1
Herb Lore +1
Animal Harvesting +1
Immunity +1
Nick didn’t hesitate in taking Herb Lore and Animal Harvesting for 1000 crowns each.
“What’s the Immunity for?” he asked. “Fire? Poison?”
“Sexually transmitted diseases,” Pseudo-ghoul said.
Nick blinked. It was that kind of game.
“Alright, I’ll take that too.”
Though he didn’t need Katana Training, it was good to see that weapon specialization was possible. He resolved to keep an eye out for the person responsible for halberd specialization. Now that would make his day.
“I wish you well,” he said to Pseudo-ghoul. “I don’t think I should attack those poor folk again.”
Nick’s dream of epic XP farming had failed, but his dishonorable death had earned him thousands of Hate points. Perhaps it had been worthwhile after all.
“There’s a bandit camp not far from here,” Pseudo-ghoul offered. “They trade drugs to the kobolds. Fucking dog heads are addicted to karajan. The bandits have been secretly funded by King Andaran for years.”
A bandit camp sounded like the perfect Plan B. Nick had no problem wasting them. Pseudo-ghoul pointed in the direction he should travel - east, along the dune ridge.
Nick pressed on, mindful that he had three and a half hours left. He was finally acclimatizing to the crippling heat inside his plate armor. Or perhaps he was so dehydrated he’d become delirious. Whatever the case, he made good time and spotted a black plume of smoke behind a rocky crag. He carefully climbed the jagged basalt outcrop and was rewarded with a birds-eye view of the bandit camp.
It was a little larger than Nick expected, but eminently farmable. Bandits in light, desert-adapted armor wandered the perimeter and guarded a central store of loot under a shade cloth. In short, a typical bandit camp, the kind he had so much fun with back in the day.
The raid needed to be swift and deadly. There wasn’t much cover down there - a few stunted olive trees along the perimeter but no buildings. The camp was nestled in a depression and encircled by rock - using the higher elevation, a Ranger with a good longbow would have a field day.
A melee fighter would have to do it the hard way. Nick checked his setup and was satisfied. Sword and shield. There was a way into the camp below the crag to his right. The path wasn’t very wide, making it a great spot to draw and isolate his enemies. He dropped from the outcrop and approached warily. There were three bandit sentries standing in the shade cast by the rock. Nick drew them out, relishing the chance to extract some serious XP.
The bandits were fleet-footed but vulnerable when pressed. Nick made sure he kept them all in his line of sight, chipping away with 2-3 hits at a time and never letting his stamina drop below
30%. It was the old RPG adage - have an escape route, but make sure you could get away. The bandits scored a few hits but trouble him.
Nick had them all on the ground within a couple of minutes. 400 XP each - not bad at all. The entire gang would make for a fine haul. He noticed glowing loot packages but that particular delight would need to come later - an archer was attacking from under the olive trees, a second entering the fray.
Only one way to deal with them. Nick rushed in, shield raised. He always enjoyed dispatching archers at close range. Strength builds liked to kill archers before they could draw their melee weapons. It was just a pride thing. The bandit archers offered 300 XP each and more loot.
Something ran headlong into Nick - a powerful-looking hound. He lashed out and killed it with two strikes. Three more bounded through the trees. The bandit camp was now on high alert. Time to back away and spread the enemy force. This wasn’t a game where mobs wandered back to their original positions, so Nick would have a lot of enemies surrounding him shortly. Keeping the dogs in front of him, he backed down the path. He killed them quickly, mindful of being overwhelmed.
The main body of bandits followed. There would have been at least ten of them. Nick turned and bolted, hugging the rocky crag to his right. He lay in wait as his enemies approached, ambushing the foremost with a brutal power attack. The man fell on the second blow.
The rest of the battle was a dour affair. Nick blocked the flurries of attacks with the restraint of a true professional. He only attacked when he had a safe opportunity, and even then it was always a standard right with no follow-up. It took him around twenty minutes of game time to work his way through the main bandit host, but it was well worth the painstaking effort.
By the time the last of the bandits lay dead in the shade of the crag, he had enough XP to level up twice. Both points went to STR. Only one more level before he could wield the Halberd of the Moon. He’d never been so in love with an unused weapon before. It was an obsession, but that’s what games did to him.
Now that he was in no immediate danger, Nick had an opportunity to loot. Much of the bandit gear included basic mail armor and standard weapons, although an iron shotel drew his attention. It was a strange, bladed weapon with a high dexterity base. Many of the swords in Bariz were dexterity-based, as opposed to the traditional swords of Durandor.
Strength Build: A LitRPG Saga (The Complete Strength Build Cycle) Page 11
