by Kevin Murphy
“That’s about three times as much fur as I’ve harvested from one of these,” remarked Hebbeson.
“Most I’ve seen too,” agreed Ramses. “Must be because it went down so quickly, we didn’t get a chance to mess it all up.”
Hebbeson walked the spoils over to the cart and dropped them in, barely filling a twelfth of the space, without accounting for any attempt to stack future materials on top.
“All right,” said Dakkon. “Let’s do that again.”
The group found and killed another krimmer as quickly as the first. Then, after the third krimmer went down in much the same way—immediately after getting hit twice on the underside by Dakkon—Ramses had questions he wanted answered.
“Pretty good with a knife, huh?” remarked Hebbeson with a smirk.
“Just what was it you said that your class was?” asked Ramses, eyeing Dakkon up and down. “And your level?”
“I can’t talk about it,” Dakkon lied. “Sorry.” He kept his words short—he really needed get in the habit of not giving out important information.
“And is there any particular reason why not?” pried Ramses.
“Yes,” Dakkon stated bluntly. “But I can’t really talk about that either.”
Ramses looked a little taken aback at first, but seemed to come to the realization that alienating his newly found golden goose wouldn’t be in his best interests, and so relented. “Fine, whatever,” he said.
“Perhaps he just can’t tell us, Ram,” said Zelle. “There are all sorts of weird classes with restrictions in this game.”
Dakkon smiled at Zelle. It was timely and, from a shaman who appeared to be a class with weird restrictions, seemed believable enough. Dakkon simply hadn’t considered the friction that could arise from keeping his class a secret while doing loads of damage for his level.
“Back to hunting, then?” asked Benton.
The group continued killing krimmer until, after about an hour and a half, the party had a close call where one kicked Dakkon away and was completely uncontainable by Hebbeson, despite his efforts. Benton and Ramses managed to slow the creature down, giving Dakkon enough time to rejoin the fight, but Hebbeson and Ramses both nearly died in the process. No one was prepared to lose several days of game time to a random boar, so it was clear that they needed a tank first and foremost to keep attention as far away from Dakkon as possible. They decided to try their luck in town once more, this time bringing back a cart filled with krimmer bits to advertise their success in the field.
The advertisement worked. When the ragtag group returned with cart in tow, every person who had turned down Ramses’s initial request came up to him asking if the group was planning to go back out, and if they needed an extra member. Ramses made sure to look extra thoughtful as he said the group “wasn’t sure quite yet,” and “we’ll get back to you,” which worked to brighten up his temperament tremendously. Zelle chuckled at the little acts and Hebbeson simply snorted ambiguously.
After selling their collection of parts, the group made just shy of 12 gold in total, which divided evenly into two gold and 40 silver per member. Now that Dakkon knew about what a gold was worth, he wasn’t very impressed with the haul. After a moment of consideration, however, he realized that a higher-level character could probably do that all by themselves in that amount of time, earning around 20 gold in two hours. That converts to 10 credits per hour, which isn’t much at all—but when one considers that there are eight hours in game time for every one in real time, that 10 credits per game hour can amount to 80 credits per real hour. That’s a good rate of accrual, or would be if it wasn’t actually tied to eight full hours of in-game labor. Still, Dakkon was sure that there would be plenty of people working full time in-game to make money, even if that meant 320 hours of in-game work over the course of one real time week. The thought of working for a real-world company inside the game sent a shiver down his spine and he dismissed the topic.
From only that much time, Dakkon had gained nearly 10,000 experience—enough to level himself twice, and just short of what he’d need for his eighteenth level.
|————
|Statistics ( ][][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Strength: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped) ( ? )
|Stamina: 25
|Agility: 64 — (50 + 14 Equipped)
|Dexterity: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Intellect: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Luck: 0 ( X )
|Free Stat Points: 25
|Hit Points: 475/475
|Endurance: 262/262
|Mana Points: 258/258
|Level: 17
|EXP Until Next Level: [_____3,939/4,370____ ]
|————
|Traits ( ][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Appearance – 8 (Equipped)
|Disciplined – 12— 62% [______________ ]
|Heroic – 2— 2% [_ ]
|Hunter – 7— 61% [______________ ]
|Rider – 2— 15% [___ ]
|Steadfast – 1— 0% [ ]
|Stealthy – 4— 50% [__________ ]
|Thick – 1— 20% [_____ ]
Chapter 18: Lucky You
Before the group could begin their search for a tank in earnest, Benton received a summon from his ‘betters.’ The wind mage was a local of Tian, where an order of aeromagi had a strong political presence and it simply wouldn’t do for an initiate such as Benton to keep a superior waiting. He explained that, throughout the city, when influential members beckoned, other members dropped what they were doing and came. With as little as that, the group was down their wind mage.
It didn’t take long for the group to refill its ranks, however. Within 10 minutes, the party had gained two new members—hand selected by Ramses to ensure they were not among the 20 or so that originally turned his group invites down. One was a shorter-than-average and abnormally stout warrior by the name of Damak, who greeted the others with a devilish grin. The other, a red headed and freakishly slender bard called Finnegan.
The two new members received a very warm welcome from Ramses, Zelle, and Hebbeson due to their classes. Dakkon agreed that they needed a tank, but he wasn’t sure how a bard playing music and alerting another krimmer while they hunted would benefit the group—granted, he was eager to find out what the others clearly already knew.
The party of six walked back into the forest and Ramses updated their battle plans to account for the new additions. Zelle was to distract the boars with bees if needed. Hebbeson would make a pincushion of the boars with his arrows. Damak was in charge of threatening their target, which would cause it to focus on him. Ramses and Dakkon’s roles remained unchanged and, lastly, Finnegan was given the role of soothing each krimmer as they approached. Instead of asking for an explanation of the bard’s task, Dakkon decided to wait and see how the musician would perform.
When the new group came across the first krimmer of their hunt, Finnegan casually strolled in front of the others in the party, even before Dakkon and Ramses had a chance to start moving in to flank. As Finnegan moved towards the tusked beast, he casually slipped the lute hanging from his left shoulder into his eager hands and began to pluck at it. The boar turned to face the approaching bard, but stood still—listening to the harmonious notes he played—while the rest of the party members closed in, surrounding the porcine creature. The krimmer stood, transfixed, as the group raised their weapons in unison. The bard played a strange, discordant note, ending the beast’s brief serenity. The party struck together as one and felled the krimmer in a quick, but mighty, display of burst damage.
[You have slashed a krimmer in a vulnerable location for 487 damage.]
[You have slashed a krimmer in a vulnerable location for 497 damage. Krimmer has been slain.]
[You have gained a level! You have 30 free stat points to distribute!]
[You have gained 490 experience! EXP until next level 59/4,570]
“That song was incredible,”
said Dakkon to Finnegan. The bard looked just as shocked as Dakkon did.
“What’s incredible is how quickly the swine dropped,” said Finnegan. “I was just switching to a battle hymn and the fight ended.”
“I did say you’d just be soothing the monsters as we walked up to them,” said Ramses with a smirk.
“That you did,” said Finnegan. “Still, I did not expect this.”
Damak looked confused as well. “I thought you lot needed a tank,” he said. “Not that I’m complaining about an easy job, but I don’t really think I’ll be of much help if what I’m tanking never has a chance to strike back at me.”
“Dakkon’s some sort of hush-hush assassin class,” said Ramses. “He’ll drop mobs in an instant, but we need you around to make sure the pigs don’t get him first.”
While the others conversed, Hebbeson harvested the krimmer in a flash of light and deposited its remains in the cart. Dakkon discreetly used hit Hotspot skill to draw a small, cold bubble over the materials to see if they could be better preserved.
In the following battle, Finnegan never dropped his soothing song in favor of a secondary tune. The group simply walked up and slew the krimmer.
“What an insane ability,” thought Dakkon. “Can he just completely pacify an enemy?” He turned to Finnegan once again, who had been watching him as their prey dropped. “That song,” said Dakkon, “seems incredibly powerful.”
“The song does?” said a surprised Finnegan. “Not the instant coup de grace, but my song?”
“Being able to soothe anything like that w—” Dakkon was cut short.
“It only works on animals and creatures with particularly low intelligence,” said Finnegan. “It’s far from useful in most situations. The song can’t even calm an already startled animal. The way we’re using it now is really as good as it gets.”
“I see,” said Dakkon. “I suppose it’s not as overpowered as it first appeared.”
The group continued defeating krimmer after krimmer and harvesting their parts. As they did so, Dakkon ensured they were kept cool. If Hebbeson ever noticed while adding fresh harvests to the cart, he didn’t let on. At two points, the group challenged and defeated an additional krimmer, giving both the tank and healer their first opportunities to feel helpful. At no point was there any member who was placed in a perilous situation, and when the alternative is a shot at missing days of gameplay, an easy grind is typically how players preferred leveling to go. Dakkon was pleased with the progress, but couldn’t help feeling that things would be better if the EXP and gold weren’t being split six ways.
|————
|Statistics ( ][][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Strength: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped) ( ? )
|Stamina: 25
|Agility: 64 — (50 + 14 Equipped)
|Dexterity: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Intellect: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Luck: 0 ( ! )
|Free Stat Points: 40
|Hit Points: 550/550
|Endurance: 300/300
|Mana Points: 310/310
|Level: 20
|EXP Until Next Level: [_____4,479/5,130___ ]
|————
|Traits ( ][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Appearance – 8 (Equipped)
|Disciplined – 12— 62% [______________ ]
|Heroic – 2— 2% [_ ]
|Hunter – 8— 23% [____ ]
|Rider – 2— 15% [___ ]
|Steadfast – 1— 0% [ ]
|Stealthy – 4— 60% [_____________ ]
|Thick – 1— 20% [_____ ]
Before he knew it, he was level 20. He had almost forgotten about the initial, randomized allocation of stat points he had been granted for choosing not to customize his character at the start of the game, but he noticed that the little ‘X’-marked bubble next to his statistics had changed into an exclamation mark. Eager to find out where his stats were distributed, Dakkon clicked on the new button and a message displayed for him:
[You have created your character without customizing it.]
[Now that you have reached level 20, your hidden statistics will be revealed.]
Dakkon went as far as holding his breath. He knew that, ultimately, nothing was changing. He had had the stats all along, so he wouldn’t really be gaining anything new. But now at least he’d know if he had been blessed with talent in the arcane arts which he should be pursuing. He was feeling rather intelligent, after all. Dakkon looked back at his statistics in anticipation:
|————
|Statistics ( ][][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Strength: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped) ( ? )
|Stamina: 25
|Agility: 64 — (50 + 14 Equipped)
|Dexterity: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Intellect: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Luck: 50
“What the—luck! Only luck?” Dakkon nearly hyperventilated as he struggled to keep his shock internalized. He didn’t need to randomly lose face in front of the other group members. As far as he was concerned, he had been shafted. The exchanged words of two brothers on his first day bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts:
“Luck’s trash… if you put points into strength, you get stronger. With agility, you can feel yourself moving faster… but with luck, it doesn’t do anything. You don’t get stronger, faster, or smarter. You get nothing-er. It’s garbage in basically every game.” He remembered agreeing with the older brother’s sentiment at the time. It seemed that, instead of a boon of great strength or importance, he’d been given some sort of booby prize.
Though it hadn’t been the wonderful surprise he had expected it to be, he’d simply have to shrug it off. It didn’t harm his development. At worst, luck was still better than nothing, and Dakkon didn’t feel particularly cheated by defaulting his appearance to his own instead of spending hours crafting a visage. Still, it sucked to learn that he wouldn’t be able to pick up a mage class and start off leaps and bounds ahead of everyone else.
The newly entered, younger brother’s response to that initial conversation came to mind once again: “If luck’s so bad then why is it even in the game?” Now, he’d have the opportunity to find out. Considering the things that had happened to him so far… had he been particularly lucky? He recounted some of his earlier experiences:
Nearly scammed, experimented on, and attacked by bandits on his first day? Not lucky. Rat stew and a swarm of rats? Also not lucky. Bag of incredible loot? Insanely lucky. Getting lured into the forest to die? Definitely not lucky. Finding the goatmen? Arguably lucky. Making it through the goatmen? Probably very lucky. Finding the resurrection relic? Beyond lucky. Dropping and crushing the priceless relic? As far from lucky is imaginable—though it did sort of lead to his special edgemaster class.
“Bah,” Dakkon scratched his head as he thought, “As far as I can tell it all just sort of evens out in the end.” He decided that, for now, he’d dismiss the matter. Dakkon knew he’d have plenty of opportunities to see just how lucky he was in the future.
When the group finally made their way back to town to sell their cart load of parts—containing approximately double what they had sold before—the material appraisers were surprised to find that so much of the glands were untainted. Before, the group received 12 gold in total. Selling double that amount without taking the effects of Dakkon’s refrigeration into account, ought to yield around 24 gold—but the group’s jaws collectively dropped when they were offered 120 gold for the pile. Taking it gladly, each player received an equal share amounting to 20 gold.
“Which one of you brilliant bastards chilled the pork?” asked Ramses. “That was a top-notch move. I don’t see any ice, though. Zelle, did you have a spirit that can cool things?” The shaman shook her head. Ramses looked from person to person. Dakkon reacted to the inquisition by looking away, betraying himself to Ramses’s sharp eye.
“No way
,” said Ramses. “You can do that too?”
Dakkon simply shrugged. Explaining that his damage came entirely from an item and that he was a glorified mobile ice chest wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
“Well, pat yourself on the back my friend. You’ve just changed the way things are done around here. Once the word gets out, every group will pay to bring a cart load of ice if that means five times the profit,” said Ramses. “We should see if we can buy some ice and set up a stall—unless of course you can make ice, too.” Ramses looked at Dakkon with a grin that suggested he wasn’t serious, but held the gaze for a length of time that showed he wasn’t really sure what to expect.
“Not much,” Dakkon said. “Probably.”
Ramses shook his head in a cocktail of exasperation and bewilderment. “You’re kidding! Set up a damned stall! Tell you what,” he said. “If you want a business partner, I’m sure I can find some folks to build you a stand—and someone else to sit there and sell it for a cut of the profit. How much ice can you make by morning?”
“I think it would be better if we didn’t spread the word so soon,” interjected Finnegan. “People will find out about this eventually since we’ll continue hunting, but if the profitability of hunting krimmer quintuples overnight then we may find ourselves with a shortage of boars to hunt. Plus, more hunters turning in higher quality materials may end up leading to a decreased demand for the ingredients, and that would mean lower profits.”
Damak also chimed in on the matter, “The people who buy krimmer meat and glands are the hoity-toity sort. If krimmer becomes easy to come by, I bet they’d abandon it altogether in favor of something more exclusive.”
“Good point,” said Finnegan, nodding to show he was of the same opinion.
“How about we just keep our lips sealed for now,” agreed Dakkon. “While we can grind these boars for reasonable experience, I think we should keep at it.” Ramses huffed a bit at the general group-refusal of his proposition, but it appeared that he could appreciate the others’ concerns.
