by Kevin Murphy
“Ugh, not you, too, Mina,” grunted Melee. “I don’t want to watch—anything—with cheesy dates and cat magic.”
Dakkon watched the scene play out before him with a contented smile. The last hour and a half had been a blast and he was quite fond of everyone. Mina was young, but she was incredibly smart and had a bubbly disposition. Cline was a bit of a joker, but he didn’t seem spiteful so much as curious. Roth was both laid back and interesting. He was the kind of guy who seemed to have everything figured out. Melee was a firecracker. She was lively and courageous. Dakkon imagined that her hair in the real world was every bit as crimson as it appeared in the game. Dakkon felt like he had met the equal and opposite counterparts to the sinister lot who had tricked him only so recently. He was thrilled to group with them.
“All right, all right,” Dakkon said with a chuckle. “Let’s take a break. We could all use one. And for the record, I’m not much into cat magic either.”
“At least someone has some sense here,” Melee shook her exasperated head.
“But I don’t like it either,” Cline said in a voice that was hushed and not altogether convincing.
“It’s all right, Cline,” said Mina. “You can like whatever you want.” Roth shot Cline a thumbs-up.
“But… I don’t. Really,” Cline said disheartened.
“There now,” Dakkon said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“Speak for yourself,” spat Melee as she turned to Cline. “You should feel shame’s burn, you cat magic lover. Feel its fiery burn!”
Chapter 10: To Battle
During the party’s break, events related to their quest began to unfold without them. A large force of some 30 goatmen appeared from the western woods and attacked the village of Greenburne in broad daylight. Since the goatmen had only attacked after dusk before, players and townsfolk were caught entirely unprepared. The goatmen rolled in as freely as the tide on a beach shore, killing and plundering until they had gathered as much as they could carry back, then receded into the forest as though draining back into the sea.
Dakkon had been browsing through forums in an attempt to find out how quickly and how meaningfully increasing agility would affect his movement and ability to dodge. After he began reading what he believed to be a particularly good post on the matter, he heard the scream of a woman. Without delaying, Dakkon backed out of the browser and thanked the developers that the massive glowing media console was visible only to him.
Cline had also noticed the woman’s scream and the two met each other’s eyes. With a nod, they drew close behind a tree and watched a parade of goatmen carrying and dragging away what could only be the spoils of Greenburne.
One goatman held the screaming woman by her long, brown hair, leading her onwards as though tugging the leash of an obstinate dog. “Bahahaha,” the goat bleated in a laugh that sounded to be deep and pleased. “Come,” the goat commanded in a brutal, throaty recreation of the common tongue. The goatmen were of varying sizes. Some as short as a boy, others taller than a man. Each had its own distinct curvature of horn. Some were neat and short, while others spiraled wildly outwards like a ram. Every one of them had the head of a goat which melded, like a chimeric abomination, into the torso of a man. The men torsos then each transformed back into two legs of a goat. They marched along like a war party of corrupt satyrs.
The goat band had already passed Dakkon’s party by and were heading towards the northwest. Dakkon turned to Cline. “Listen. I know that looks pretty bad,” he said as Cline nodded with wide eyes, “but this is our best chance to follow them back. I don’t see anyone else trailing them, although that doesn’t mean we’ll be the only ones. One of us needs to follow them, and the other needs to wake up the others or—in the worst-case scenario—wait for them to tune back in and then tell them what’s going on here.”
Cline was the picture of uncertainty, but he nodded all the same. “You look eager, so go on ahead. I’ll inform everyone. We should be able to keep in contact with this.” Cline targeted Dakkon and said, “I’d like to add Dakkon as a friend.” A window opened in front of Dakkon.
|Cline wishes to add you to his friends list.
|Accepting will allow him to communicate with you, regardless of distance.
|Would you like to accept?( Yes )( No )
Dakkon gladly accepted, and immediately began to trail the herd of goatmen. He kept his distance, but in a forested area he found it difficult to remain completely silent. Fresh on his mind from his research during the break, Dakkon knew that increasing his agility should allow him to move more carefully and would help him keep quiet. The thought of spreading his points too thin worried Dakkon, but as he was already leaning towards agility as one of his primary stats… He went into his character window and distributed half of his 40 free stat points into agility.
Immediately, Dakkon could feel the change it made. His movements came more easily, his sneaking pace increased, and he was far more silent. It wasn’t as though he felt particularly clumsy before, but now he couldn’t imagine how he had lived before while constantly bumbling about. Although his agility rose from a mere 10 points to 30, it wasn’t as though he had become three times as agile. Still, he felt significantly changed. He felt improved.
Dakkon was now able to gain on the raiders while managing to carefully move through the trees. He didn’t dare to get too close, however. He knew, no matter how long it might take, he would have to follow the goats from a safe distance or, not only would he ruin his perfect opportunity to make a small fortune and save a village, not only would he be barred from the game for another grueling 11 hours in which sleep would be entirely out of the question, but he would let down the people he had just ingratiated himself with. He trailed the monsters for 15 long minutes before he was contacted by Cline.
“Dakkon,” Dakkon was startled by the sudden address from Clines mildly-echoing, disembodied voice. It didn’t seem to come from any discernable direction, but it was there all the same.
“Has everyone come back yet?” Dakkon said aloud in an unnecessarily quiet whisper. Then waited in silence for a few seconds.
“Dakkon, if you’re unsure of how to reply… Think of my face and the word contact, or message, or anything of that sort. The system should take care of the rest.”
As he followed Cline’s directions, a strange sensation overtook him as though he had completed some sort of link. A connection was established between the two players and it could be felt. “Cline? What’s the status on your end?” Dakkon thought the words.
“Everyone is up and anxious, I assure you,” Cline’s voice filled his mind.
“I’m still following the goats in the same direction we saw them heading before, travelling at the same speed.” Dakkon transmitted the message through the new outlet of telepathy.
“Right, in that case we can probably get there in about 10 minutes. Maybe sooner if we hurry.”
“Just take off towards me at about the same speed you saw us set off. If you get here too soon anything could happen,” Dakkon emphasized. “Have you seen anyone else in pursuit of them?”
“No one else, as far as I can tell,” replied Cline. “But I’ve been trying to force these guys awake and explain things. Everyone’s anxious, but we’re gonna head your way.” And as easily as his voice had appeared, it left Dakkon. The sensation was akin to cutting a taut string with a sharp knife.
Dakkon continued his creep in pursuit of the battle-rich monstrosities. His constant slinking was beginning to cause him stress. When he was nearly unable to bear the crouching and hiding any longer, a message appeared before him.
[Trait unlocked! Taking great care to stay out of sight, your steps begin to fall a little more softly. You have gained the Trait: Stealthy]
That’s right. He was playing a game. Dakkon had forgotten. He didn’t feel like he was playing a game. The exhilaration of stalking the war band was a real sensation. The tension was real. Now, at least, it felt a little easier to
bear. Twenty more minutes of trailing and keeping silent finally bore him fruit. The goats were walking up to a cliff face, and their ranks were thinning out quickly.
The cliff in front of Dakkon was at least 100 meters high. The base of it was studded with large and small rocks of all different shapes that tended to smooth. Between a large, pyramid-like boulder and a smaller one that looked something like a column, the beastmen rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. “Found them.” Dakkon was relieved that he had completed the first part of his self-imposed charge.
“Cline,” Dakkon focused on his friend’s face, and after a moment felt the tug of an invisible string. “I’ve found them. There are no lookouts as far as I can see. That’s probably helped them stay so well hidden. I’ll double back and meet up with you part way.”
“Roger,” Cline replied simply and the tether was broken.
After only five minutes, Dakkon had spotted the rest of his group and after he realized that they didn’t see him, allowed them to walk up close to the tree he was now hiding behind. “Greetings!” Dakkon said as he popped out, smiling. The four jumped.
“Jesus, Dakkon. What the hell was that about?” Melee raged. The others simply took in a deep breath and let out calming sighs at each’s own pace.
“Thought you guys might be interested in experiencing what I was going through, is all,” Dakkon said with a grin. “And how were the magical cats?”
“Very relaxing,” said Roth. “I was, at one point, very relaxed.”
Dakkon nodded. “Well, enough of that. It looks like the goats are holed up in the side of a massive bluff. Judging by the number of them and how quickly they got in, there’s bound to be a big cave system or something like it.”
“So… what’s the plan?” Mina asked.
“If you ask me,” said Dakkon, “we’re in something of a unique position. We seem to be the only ones who have found out where the goatmen headquarters are, and since they’re only just back from their conquest, it stands to reason that they won’t be expecting guests, and—if we’re really lucky—some of them may still be injured from their raid.”
“Not to mention we will probably have to act quickly if we want to save that girl,” said Cline. He seemed more composed now that he had had some time to grapple with the situation.
“But, if that’s a cave system like you’ve mentioned, then I’m pretty sure any sound we make will carry through the place like an alarm and pull every goatman to meet us,” Mina deduced.
“That’s not the sort of greeting I’d like, personally,” Roth added.
“Agreed,” Melee supported the sentiment.
“We won’t know until we check it out at any rate,” said Dakkon. “We’re going to have to push our fears aside for now and strike while the iron’s hot.” Dakkon looked towards Mina, as though he expected some measure of dissent, but there was none.
“Well, you’re right at any rate,” said Mina. “We won’t know until we try.”
“At the worst-case, we’ll have a chance to see what death is like while we’re still low levels,” Roth said.
Melee sighed. “I guess this is the right level range to try something completely stupid. Count me in.”
Cline reluctantly nodded. “I think we should all register one another as friends. That way, if something happens, we can meet back up and find a saner way to level.” Everyone agreed and sent or accepted invitations. Afterwards, Cline added, “If only some of us die, then the others shouldn’t feel obligated to wait around on them. We can meet up later.” Everyone agreed again.
Chapter 11: Onwards
After ten minutes of discussion outside the realm filled with pain, certain death, and goatmen, followed by a game of rock paper scissors to decide marching order, the party was relatively content with Dakkon leading their way onwards. He snuck towards the goatman lair and, with great care, stole a glance inside. It was certainly darker than the sunny, wooded space where the group had been conversing, but not too dark to easily see. Sensing no immediate obstacle, Dakkon looked back to the others and beckoned them with a flourish of his hand. As the party stepped into the side of the cliff, their expectations of a filthy den were blown cleanly away. What they had believed to be, in the best case, a deep, dark, and perhaps dank cave turned out to be an antechamber with painted walls which progressed in sections like the pages of a storybook.
“These paintings here,” Mina said in an excited but deliberately hushed voice, “depict stories that I’ve read about. This one here shows the legend of how the hero Adelin stumbled upon one of a few scattered relics which grant their bearer immense power.” Mina pointed at another of the large murals. “And this one must be the fall of King Feloran who made love to a beautiful temptress whom he had insulted in another form.”
“You seem awfully well informed,” Cline said with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. “How can you tell so much from only a quick look?”
“Those are a couple of the few surviving legends from the Valin empire.” When no one showed any sign of recognition she pressed on. “The pinnacle of strength on Validesh which reigned for a thousand years and gave the continent its name?” Despite some non-committal neck-craning from Melee, the group was still. “They’re told as bedtime stories here. Surely, you’ve heard at least one of these tales,” Mina gestured towards the walls around them.
“I haven’t heard of them,” said Roth and the rest shook their heads in agreement. “That doesn’t mean I’m not interested. What about these?” He nodded towards a painting which depicted a massive bull bowing before a young girl who then climbed on the animal’s back. Next Roth pointed towards another of a man by the side of a river where a fish watched him for panel after panel as he ate, slept, and washed himself.
“I haven’t got a clue,” Mina admitted. “Judging by the other two, I’m guessing they’re tall tales in which fortune plays some part.”
“What does it matter?” snapped Melee, clearly less than pleased to be discussing a gap in her education of fairytales in enemy territory. “All I care about right now is that this is no cave system.”
“That’s right,” said Dakkon. “We may not have to worry about echoes after all, if we’re lucky.”
“I don’t know…” trailed off Cline. “This area seems… kind of important. What if there are traps ahead?”
“If there are any traps, I’m guessing the goatmen would have set them off,” said Dakkon. “Since the people in these murals aren’t goats but humans, it stands to reason that the beasts just found this place before anyone else did.”
“Fine then,” relented Cline with a look of grim resolution. “After you,” he said with an arm outstretched cordially towards the brighter, flickering light of the room beyond the antechamber.
“Before we go,” Dakkon met with each of his party member’s eyes in turn, “if we come across one or two goatmen, we’ve got to engage and kill them as silently as possible. If you’ve got the choice between blocking an attack or covering the goat’s mouth with your arm, cover their mouth. The last thing we want is to bring that whole war band, or more, running back to us.” The silence and unease that followed served as indication that the severity of the situation was understood.
Dakkon crept into the next room. He paused to scan the cracks and crevices, searching for enemies, but aside from piles of rubble and two massive stone columns towards the center, the room was clear. As the party approached behind him, he finally took in the magnificence of the area. It was a massive hall around 20 meters from floor to ceiling. Four pairs of horse-sized iron braziers illuminated the crumbling stonework that filled the area. Ancient, battered statues littered the place, their features wrecked, no doubt, by the vandalization of irreverent goatmen. The walls were lined with cloth tapestries so old they had mostly disintegrated; their colors indistinguishable. Mina gasped sharply upon seeing the hall, then was told off with a glare and disapproving shake of Melee’s head. Before they looked around, they’d have to deal w
ith any squatters.
After only a few steps into the large hallway, a message appeared for Dakkon.
[You have entered a dungeon: Lost Temple of Arstak.]
[Your group is the first to discover: Lost Temple of Arstak.]
[Experience gain is doubled within this dungeon for 24 hours.]
[The chance of finding rare loot is doubled within this dungeon for 24 hours.]
[This area may be reclaimed for the followers of Arstak.]
“Arstak?” Melee said aloud in wide-eyed surprise before covering her mouth.
“Who’s that?” Dakkon asked in a whisper.
“The god of luck, good and bad,” Mina said in a volume matching Dakkon’s. “He’s something like a trickster god.”
“He’s a popular reference for players on the forums,” added Cline. “People call him ‘RNG God.’ They curse or praise him when something goes very wrong or very right for them.” Dakkon had read the phrase before, many times in fact, but didn’t think there was anything deeper to it than asininity for its own sake.
“I haven’t ever heard of any temples for Arstak,” Mina said. “As far as I know, there aren’t any orders or sects that openly follow him.”
“We’ll give it a thorough combing through after we’re done. We might be able to find some pretty valuable stuff in here,” suggested Dakkon.
The group’s mood seemed to improve considerably, except for Cline who looked as though he might take off in full flight as soon as the situation deteriorated. Even if they failed, they had uncovered an interesting location and stumbled upon the rare opportunity to explore a dungeon with doubled EXP and drop rates, providing they didn’t die in the first few encounters. As the group stepped around a large stone pillar, Dakkon nearly kicked a goatman who lay asleep on its back, clutching a partially-drained bottle. Dakkon spread his arms, cautioning the others to not step around the pole and dropped to one knee while drawing out his dark dagger. With one hand, he reached out and clasped down firmly on the creature’s mouth, using its snout and billy goat beard to bind it. Dakkon’s other hand thrust down twice into the beast’s chest as it stirred then stilled.
