by Eric Nylund
SPECIAL ABILITIES: +1 to wielder’s STRENGTH and REFLEX. Adds moderate damage to every (right-handed) strike. Upon command, once per day the fist may cause an explosion on contact—pulverizing a cubic yard of stone, or cubic foot of iron—causing any target MAJOR damage with a significantly increased chance of a CRITICAL HIT.
REQUIREMENTS: Keyed for martial artist classes only.
VALUE: If someone would sell this for mere coin, it would fetch an equivalent of at least 50,000 quins.
HISTORICAL NOTE: Once worn by Ratree Aslan, aka the Mistress of the Seven Sinister Strikes, who expunged all traces of evil from this item.
NOTE: When donned, the wielder must activate the Fist of the Devil God-King with a mental command. It will then sink into and bond to the hand bones. The wielder’s entire hand will appear slightly enlarged, the knuckles more so. Once bonded, this item may then only be removed by surgery or amputation.
Seriously nice. The mega-damage blasting effect was spectacular.
I also appreciated the amount of helpful information in the description. That might have been from my improved Bargaining skill.
The only thing… the price.
I’d seen this kind of economic effect before in games.
Money started to lose its value when compared to mid- and higher-tier magical items. Who wanted to trade a +5 Holy Vorpal Sword for forty million coppers? Instead, magic gear tended to get bartered for other magic or rare items. Except for the highest-level magical stuff. To obtain that, you usually had to fulfill some nearly impossible quest.
“May I try them on?” I asked. “Without activating them, of course.”
She made a little “go ahead” gesture, and gave that smile every car salesman had when you asked if you could just sit inside to “see how it feels.”
I slipped them on.
My fist felt like it had been dipped in molten lead, but that weighty sensation quickly faded.
It morphed shape, knuckle bones rearranging to accommodate my smaller elven hand and even my sixth finger.
I made to smack my right fist into the left, but stopped, deciding that would be an amazingly stupid thing to do.
I removed them and set them aside.
They’d take a serious bite from my budget, and I still needed something with reach. A definite possibility, though.
Ah—I then spied a twelve-foot length of chain. Attached to one end were a handle and straight blade. Halfway along the blade’s length, another curved blade sprouted (imagine an elongated lowercase “r”). On the other end, was a knobby weight the size of my fist.
This was a kyoketsu-shoge, the traditional weapon of ninjas in my beloved Hong Kong action flicks.
It was versatile because you could throw the blade, or use the chain to block, entangle, trip, rip a weapon from an opponent’s grasp, and of course, strangle.
Masters of this weapon could whip the chain around their limbs or neck to seriously increase its velocity. Anyone else attempting such maneuvers would end up smacking themselves in the face.
In my other life, I never would have touched one of these things. You needed years of training.
But… Hektor Saint-Savage had such training.
The description popped:
KYOKETSU-SHOGE (ninja chain) with MORNING STAR ATTACHMENT (EXOTIC, FLEXIBLE weapon class)
Shé liàn, The Living Serpent Chain
(Tier-V magical weapon, very rare)
DESCRIPTION: Comprised of a silver-mithril alloy blade, living xi-mercury links, and a blackened tungsten weight. Crafted by the now-extinct Mecha-medusae of the Island of Ea. Only four such weapons are known to exist. This one is the “Taipan” among the set (named for the snake’s speed, not its deadly venom).
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Enchanted to moderately increase hit probabilities and damage. The chain is alive and responds to simple mental commands, able to slightly alter its link shape, tensile properties, color, and may stretch to a length of eighteen feet.
REQUIREMENTS: Keyed for martial artists only AND the weapon must accept you as its master.
VALUE: If sold for mere coin, consider 75,000 quins a steal.
I could think of so many uses for this. A definite must-have. Damn the price to hell.
“Go ahead,” Lillian urged me.
I grasped the leather-wrapped handle of the blade.
The chain tensed. Tiny razor-sharp blades “chincked” out of the links—like a cat extending its claws.
This must be part of the “weapon must accept you” requirement.
I sensed a connection between us now… like a phone call where the other person was silent, waiting for me to start the conversation.
I thought: Hello? Look, I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll just level with you. I’ve got a ton of questing to get done, a thousand fights, and more blood and pain than I really care to think about. If you’re not up for it, well, better to know right now and we can go our separate ways.
The chain relaxed and the tiny blades in its links retracted.
Hmm. That didn’t feel like a rejection, not quite acceptance, either.
I’m Hektor Saint-Savage, Spirit Warrior, and I guess, part-time Mage of the Line. I’m trying to reshape the very nature of Creation—give the little guys a chance to determine their own fates. I can’t guarantee I’ll come out the other end of this thing alive, but I’m going to try. Are you game?
The chain lay there inert.
I guess it had made up its mind.
I set the blade down. Too bad. I’d liked it.
The thing then, however, gave me a mental “ping” with an encoded thought: it relished the long odds of my task, and more importantly, that I was trying anyway.
The chain wrapped about my wrist.
For a heart-stopping second, I thought it might sprout razors once more and constrict.
Thankfully not. Just a tiny squeeze.
I did my best Rick Blaine in Casablanca and thought: Shé liàn, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I coiled the chain, and set it next to the demon bone knuckles.
There was a knock on the wall.
Morgana poked through the curtains. “Oi, Elmac said” —and she continued in a poor imitation of his dwarven brogue— “tell Hektor that we be moving out in an hour. So that slowpoke better finish.” She smiled at her impression, but the expression dried up as she saw the look on my face. “Everything good here?”
“I’ll explain later.” I frowned. “Wait. One hour?”
She nodded. “Was pretty firm about it too. Look, I’ve got to wrap a few things up myself. See you in a tick then?”
Elmac must have his reasons, but I had vowed to burn through my cash tonight, or rather this morning, and that’s what I was going to do… just a little faster than I’d figured.
In short order, I sorted through a dozen rings, a silk tunic with embroidered dragons, and ten more candidate weapons. Nothing fell into the “must have” category.
Miss Carat-Bringer then presented me with a tray of starter mage items: assorted wands, charms, and the like. All too pricey for what they did, but she had warned me this stuff was in high demand.
“Any stage magician accouterments?”
Her ever-present smile faded.
She pulled a lead box off the pushcart and let it thud onto the floor. Without flourish or preamble, she shoved it my way.
Had I committed a cultural faux pas with respect to… sleight of hand magicians? That didn’t make sense. I’d have to ask Elmac.
Inside the box, I found packs of playing cards, one with five suits and an extra face card, the “Court Magician.” There were also plenty of technical props like breaking steel rings and three-cups and balls, but none of those clicked with me.
Except… I then spied something jammed in one corner of the box, buried in dust and something sticky (chewing gum?).
Blackwell’s Band
(Tier-III magical ring, very rare)
DESCRIPTION: M
ade of seven braided crystalline filaments (each a different, but dull, rainbow color). It remains cool to the touch even when worn.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: In the aether, the wearer of this ring triples the range at which they may manipulate ley lines.
REQUIREMENTS: Must be able to enter the aether and manipulate ley lines.
VALUE: Unknown as so few can use, or understand, this item to properly appraise it. Based on material value alone, the ring will likely fetch 1,000 gold quins.
Huh. This could be extremely useful. That note about so few being able to understand its use had to account for its bargain-basement price.
If it worked as indicated, it’d be a steal. Nice.
Next, I examined a rack of stoppered test tubes, vials, and tiny bottles.
Finally healing potions! I set aside all six doses they had. I took a few bandages enchanted to cure infection and disease. No more lich rot for me, thank you very much. I also grabbed the two vials of “Karl’s Guaranteed De-toxinifier” in stock to counter poisoned weapons.
I was short on time, so I briefly scanned their descriptions just to make sure they were what they said they were.
I then got a few pairs of clean socks, underwear, loose pants, tunics and t-shirts, a waxed canvas jacket, a new wool cloak… and why not? An assortment of silk sashes of assorted colors. Yeah, amateur fashionista here, but no self-respecting gypsy elf would pass a chance to upgrade their wardrobe.
“Anything else?”
“I hesitate to show this to you, sir.” Miss Carat-Bringer pursed her lips and with both hands held out a thin ivory box.
I took it. Inside was a strip of silver-white silk.
“But you did ask for something to bolster your sensory acuity. You will find no item of higher quality.”
I felt magic roiling off this thing.
I concentrated, but no item description popped.
Really? I redoubled my mental efforts.
From the center of the band, an eye winked open; its gaze darted back and forth, and then fixed upon me.
I almost dropped the box.
Azramath’s Headband of Grim and Fateful Insights
(Tier-VII magical armor, unique)
DESCRIPTION: Crafted by the insane archmagus, Azramath the Trembling, this headband is woven from the silk of glass moths only found on the slopes of active volcanoes.
SPECIAL ABILITIES: Grants a defense bonus against gaze-type weapons. Allows the wearer to see the infrared and ultraviolet portions of the visible spectrum. Thrice per day, it can reveal magic auras. Once per day, the eye can reveal the absolute truth.
REQUIREMENTS: EGO 4 or greater.
VALUE: May be traded for an equivalency of 45,000 quins worth of similarly tiered items.
NOTE: Seeing the absolute truth may cause the wearer to go blind, be driven insane, fall into a suicidal depression, or experience other deleterious effects.
Nice. I’d never have night vision problems if I had this. Expensive, though. I wasn’t sure about that “absolute truth” thing, but I didn’t have to use that ability. Hmm. I’d have to boost my EGO to meet the requirement. I had yet to assign stat points for my new level, so that was possible.
Running short on time, Miss Carat-Bringer and I then rolled up our sleeves and haggled.
When she whipped out a slide rule, however, and proceeded to show me the items’ depreciation schedules over the next century to demonstrate their actual increasing worth vis-a-vis my initial investment, I caved.
Her Bargaining skill had to be at least double mine.
It was okay. I got all the non-magic gear I wanted, the healing items, the demon bone knuckles, Shé liàn, the headband, and Blackwell’s ring.
And, after I figured in Miss Carat-Bringer’s tip, I had a whopping seven hundred gold quins left over.
I’d burned through a fortune. On the other hand, hey, seven hundred gold? A week ago, I would have considered that a fortune.
Well, easy come, easy go.
“You are amazingly adept, sir, at identifying and assessing an item’s value,” Miss Carat-Bringer said. “If you ever find yourself in need of employment…”
“Lordren asked me to join your crew last time I shopped here. I don’t know, maybe after I get a few things straightened out in my personal life.”
Like saving the multiverse from a bunch of power-hungry deities. I wondered if Hiltmyer & Co. offered medical and a pension?
Still sitting, I bowed to Lillian Carat-Bringer. “You have more than earned your gratuity. Thank you. Thank you, very much.”
She beamed. “You are more than welcome, Mister Saint-Savage. Please ask for me by name next time you visit. I’ll just leave this.” She nudged the bottle of cognac in my direction. “Compliments of the house. Master Lordren insists. I shall get your change.” She packed up the cart, minus my new items, and trundled off.
I tied a green sash about my waist.
I then went to pick up the kyoketsu-shoge, but before I could, Shé liàn snaked up my body and burrowed under the sash—neatly out of sight. A ninja weapon indeed.
I slipped on Blackwell’s Band, but nothing immediate happened.
The knucklebones and headband could wait.
I opened my inventory to safely store it all…
And froze.
In the lower-right corner slot was a dull 1912 S Wheat Lincoln penny.
It was the coin my dad had given me the night he’d traded his life for mine.
I took it out, held it, and cried.
CHAPTER 11
I was in the dark. Again. Covered in excrement. Once more.
Kind of the theme of my life for the last twenty-four hours.
Oh, and I was in a coffin.
You see, Elmac had a new, better idea to sneak us out of High Hill under the noses of the Silent Syndicate.
His “genius” plan had four parts.
The first part took advantage of the fact that today was trash day for Lordren. Along with the junk deemed unsalable by his appraisers, Lordren’s janitorial staff also had to dispose of the street sweepings they’d collected this week in front of Hiltmyer & Co. This morning it would all be hauled by wagon to High Hill’s dump.
Part two entailed Lordren’s engineers taking three rat-chewed coffins, drilling air holes in them, and then fitting those holes with air filters.
(No one had asked why Lordren had three coffins lying around in his office, but there had to be a story to it).
For part three, our band of adventurers suppressed their inner claustrophobic (except Elmac, who didn’t seem to have one), and we crammed into the aforementioned death boxes… which were then nailed shut.
And finally, the coffins and their not-so-dead corpses were laid to rest in a wagon and all the junk and street sweepings got shoveled on top of them.
Did I mention how many horses traversed River Street in front of Lordren’s shop in any given week? And the quantity of their… leavings?
So, a few thousand bumps over High Hill’s cobblestoned avenues later, we rolled onto an even rougher rutted track, indicating that we’d cleared the city gates.
About an hour after that, I heard whispers between Elmac and Morgana’s caskets. They were so faint, though, I had to press my ear to the side of my coffin to make out any words.
I didn’t get it all, but enough to get the gist that Morgana was asking why there was no aluminum (pronounced “al-you-min-i-uhm” in her British accent) and metals like titanium in Thera. Elmac gave the same explanation he’d given me that chemistry worked ever-so-slightly differently in Thera. No gunpowder, for example, and high-carbon steels and exotic metals degraded faster than pig iron left out in the rain.
They then started exchanging life stories.
It sounded personal… and not meant for eavesdroppers in adjacent coffins.
So, I stopped lurking.
I had my own fish to fry.
Namely, I had to finish leveling up.
I concentrated and my interface ap
peared, thankfully in focus even though there were only two inches between my nose and the coffin’s lid.
Congratulations on selecting a new class:
MAGE OF THE LINE
You must pick two beginning abilities.
Choose wisely, for these will not be offered again.
Future spell/skill branches will be opened (or sealed) based on these choices.
Ah. The standard “pick a path and don’t look back” character design philosophy I’d seen before… only not with a new first-level character. When I’d played a fighter in the Free Trial, and for my Spirit Warrior, I’d picked which skills I wanted at the start, yes, but I had the option to get the rest of them later.
A lot more rode on my initial choices for this class.
I read the few first abilities:
Small Pass (Physical): Teleport an object less than five pounds.
Range: 10 yards.
Cost: 10 mana.
NOTE: Attempts to move one object inside another significantly decreases the chance of success and may have dire effects on the object and spellcaster.
Small Pass (Light): Alter the color and pattern of light to produce visual effects or reproduce images.
Maximum volume: One cubic yard.
Range: 10 yards.
Cost: 10 mana.
Small Pass (Mental): Project your thoughts into the mind of another. Limited to short messages and/or non-complex sensory transmissions. Such thoughts may be forced upon another, producing a variety of possible effects.
Range: 1 mile.
Cost: 10 mana.
These last two were illusionist and psychic-type powers. As handy as those might be, I’d stick with the physical version of Small Pass. Sure, there was that caution about teleporting one object into another (an obvious no-no), but the physical version of Small Pass was the last thing my dad taught me…
