by Kevin Murphy
“Good luck, Letis,” said Dakkon.
Letis smiled, “Good luck, Dakkon. If you have another half-cocked, absurd, impossibly arrogant, doomed-to-fail plan, let me know. I’ll mull it over and inevitably decline, but I’d still like to get a kick out of hearing about it.”
“You’ve got it,” said Dakkon. Then the two travelers parted ways.
Chapter 22: Greetings
Dakkon reviewed his progression:
|————
|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
|Free Stat Points: 60
|Hit Points: 650/650
|Endurance: 350/350
|Mana Points: 362/362
|Level: 24
|EXP Until Next Level: [_____3,706/6,380 ]
|————
|Traits ( ][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Appearance – 8 (Equipped)
|Climber – 2— 49% [___________ ]
|Disciplined – 12— 62% [______________ ]
|Heroic – 2— 2% [_ ]
|Hunter – 9— 42% [________ ]
|Rider – 4— 7% [__ ]
|Steadfast – 1— 0% [ ]
|Stealthy – 4— 80% [_________________ ]
|Thick – 2— 5% [_ ]
|————
|Classes
|————
|Primary Class: Edgemaster
|Class Level: Null
|EXP Until Next Level: [||||||||||||||||||||N||||||||||||||||||||||]
|Skills:
|+Mastery – 1— [||||||||||||||||||||N||||||||||||||||||||||]
|+Edge – 1— [||||||||||||||||||||N||||||||||||||||||||||]
|Special: Edgemaster is locked as your primary class.
|Special: Classes may not be changed or removed.
|
|Secondary Class: Thermomancer – 80% Power (from multiclassing)
|Class Level: 27
|EXP Until Next Level: [__ 1,100/7,240 ]
|Skills:
|+Thermoregulate – 28— 55% [____________ ]
|+Heat (Touch) – 24— 88% [__________________ ]
|+Chill (Touch) – 24— 37% [________ ]
|+Hotspot (Area) – 19— 89% [__________________ ]
|+Condense – 1— [______________________]
Only a few hours after the group had fully split apart, Dakkon was out observing the so-called restricted area located on aeromagi guild land. Dakkon had initially tried to contact Benton, the aeromagus whom he had hunted alongside of in the first group he was a part of after arriving in Tian, but the mage was offline or, at least, unresponsive. He’d been asking around about the compound as discreetly as he could manage, but the answers he received were anything except useful. Players and NPCs had extremely varied ideas about what the place actually was. Some believed the area was an advanced training ground for wind magi which offered faster-than-tavern mana regeneration and access to hidden, rare and powerful spells. Others believed the area was a secret society which hoarded exotic treasures, gave out rare classes and quests, and had special maps on display which showed all the best dungeons for the area. That seemed highly unlikely, but the mention of rare classes, no matter how unlikely, would always pique Dakkon’s interest. Another group seemed to believe the area was a playground of the rich which featured free, priceless meals that increased stat bonuses to astronomical levels. While this, too, seemed farfetched, the final iteration was loosely supported by the fact that chefs were frequently escorted into the large, closed-compound throughout the day. Other figures—cloaked to obscure their identities—were escorted in as well. The truth of the matter, however, was about to be revealed to Dakkon because he had walked inside only moments ago.
Getting into the building had proven to be a task suited to the talents Dakkon had cultivated. Two men stood sentry at either side of the large, wooden double doors leading into the compound. Dakkon had observed the two halting each individual and group approaching the entrance. One member of a group would raise a hand, then the guards would allow them entry.
After Dakkon had slowly worked his way to a sufficiently close vantage point, he was able to see that which granted the groups admission. Above each mage’s upturned palm, there twisted a miniature vortex of swirling air. It appeared to Dakkon that entry into the restricted area was dictated by a certain degree of technical mastery in wind magic. He supposed it made sense. If there was a sufficiently skilled wind mage, the guild likely trained them, or at least knew of them. If you want an area to be exclusive grounds for wind mages, why not make the entry requirement wind magic?
Dakkon didn’t know any wind magic, but he had created a whirlwind by accident through magically charged hot and cold air. It had been quite a while since he had made the dust devil in the inn and, since then, Dakkon had progressed significantly as a thermomancer. He figured the task should be easy.
Deciding that he could no longer learn anything useful from simply watching the door or asking vague, unassuming questions, Dakkon pulled the hood of his cloak around his head, dusted himself off, and walked up to the two guards. They turned to him, opening their mouths to speak as Dakkon’s hands pulsed with hot and cold magical energy, funneling it into the air between them. Dakkon now knew how to condense the magical surges of temperature and did so to great effect.
A burst of swirling wind erupted from his hands, blowing off his hood and causing the guards to stumble back slightly in surprise.
“Easy now, we get it,” said one guard.
Dakkon re-settled the hood around his head, his visage completely exposed for a moment. Any passing players would have been able to see the blue name floating above his head while the cowl was down. The NPC guards would also be able to recognize him if they needed to find him.
The guards opened the wooden double doors enough to grant him passage into the poorly furnished entry hall. As doors closed behind Dakkon, leaving him inside and alone, he could hear one guard’s protests about new mages showing off.
The long antechamber looked to be made entirely of smooth, hard stone with a couple of large, symmetrically placed holes on either side of the hall that you could see into—to an extent—when walking deeper into the building. The holes didn’t look to be decorative, nothing in the hall did, which meant that they were functional. If the corridor were trapped, that would explain the lack of ornamentation. Dakkon walked carefully down the corridor, placing his feet gingerly on stone tiles and testing the ground in front of him. Perhaps a display of wind magic was only part of what was needed to gain entry. Perhaps any misplaced foot could lead to a gruesome end. Perhaps he was being paranoid, as one tends to be when doing a poor job of infiltrating a restricted area.
After Dakkon stepped over a stone threshold that looked as though it might have the ability to raise and seal off the antechamber, he found himself in a round, warmly-lit, and lavish nexus with five large passageways which split off like spokes from the hub of a wheel. The hallway to the far left was labeled by an elegant sign with crimson letters on dark tan leather which read ‘Lounge.’ Muffled noises and delicious scents wafted to him from the lounge corridor. Dakkon decided that path would likely be the safest to explore as strangers were expected in lounges—but if there was anything worth finding, it would probably be down one of the other paths. Dakkon eased his nerves by reminding himself that he didn’t break in—he was granted entry. Plus, he was expected to arrive there anyway—albeit sometime tomorrow. What’s the worst trouble he could get himself into?
Dakkon decided he would take his chances with an unknown hallway, choosing the first counterclockwise corridor from the antechamber he had entered through, directly opposite of the lounge. The round hub room had been i
nvitingly illuminated, however the hallway he now tread down had just enough lighting to have a rough idea of where one was placing their feet. Dakkon’s eyes quickly adjusted to the low-light environment. About 40 paces dead ahead of him, he found a stone slab barring any advancement. There was no hinge nor handle on the door of stone. There were, however, three small holes on either side of the slab, each about the size of a human palm. As far as Dakkon could see, each hole travelled in a different direction inside the wall, and they did not inter-connect.
Dakkon figured that the holes must relate to how the slab is raised and lowered. The problem was, he had no idea how it worked. The obvious answer, being in a zone belonging to powerful wind wizards, was that it was some sort of gust-activated puzzle. Placing one hand on a hole and producing wind that spun in the correct way with one’s left hand and in a likely different way through another hole on the right. Were that the case, the puzzle seemed like it would make for an effective lock. Dakkon could produce wind by manipulating temperature, but he had never tried to do so with each hand, separately. There was also the strong likelihood that using the wrong holes would spring some nefarious trap. That’s how he would have designed the puzzle if he had something to guard—and perhaps having something to guard this well meant it would be worth the risk to have a crack at it.
Dakkon didn’t deliberate for long before trying to pour hot and cold air from the pinky and thumb of his right hand. If he couldn’t do it, then he couldn’t do it and that would be the end of it. By condensing the heat and cold as he manipulated the angle of his fingers, he could manage a small cyclone. After a bit of fiddling around—and a surprising amount of joint pain from keeping his fingers in specific, rigid postures for a time—he had managed it. Still, four condensed hotspots powerful enough to create two whirlwinds with the requisite kick to flip whatever trigger needed triggering or tumbler that needed tumbling would probably take every point of mana he had and then some.
Dakkon allowed his mana to fill to full, placed his left hand over the middle hole on the left side of the door and his right hand over the top hole on the right—locations he had chosen completely at random—and breathed in deeply to steel himself against the second most brazen thing he’d tried today behind jumping on and riding a massive snake through the treetops.
“All right, let’s get some mileage out of this luck stat,” he thought, preparing himself. Dakkon condensed his mana and poured it out thickly. Gusts of wind spiraled from his fingertips, counter-clockwise from his left and clockwise from his right. He felt the chill of rapidly expending mana run from his spine to his extremities. Then he heard a loud, deep whistling noise. The slab of rock didn’t move. He had chosen incorrectly.
Dakkon could hear the shuffling of boots at the end of the corridor. The fuel of two torches burst into dancing flame, and the burly forms of several armed guards cluttered Dakkon’s only avenue of escape.
“Hello,” Dakkon called out to his potential captors. “I take it this isn’t the way to the toilet.”
The guards didn’t respond save for moving forward to apprehend him. Dakkon decided now was not the time or place to fight back. The guards led him down the path labeled ‘Lounge,’ extinguishing their torches and leaving them in a large iron brazier.
When Dakkon exited the tunnel, he found himself in a land of luxury unlike anything he had ever experienced. Following the left wall—dark hardwood adorned with simple but elegant carvings and grand paintings—led to a room with large tables, patrons dining, and scurrying chefs in white culinary attire. The guards led Dakkon to the right, which brought them to a wide, forking pathway; the left fork teemed with painstakingly cultivated flowering bushes, trellises, and at least two visible ponds. The right path, which they continued down, slowly transformed into a more arid, desert-tropical setting which might have made the atmosphere feel relaxed and less exclusive if every little detail had not been so precisely groomed. Dakkon was not in his element.
The new area seemed to be styled in the fashion of a god-king pharaoh’s personal oasis retreat. Ahead lay a structure of four massive, tiered infinity pools which stacked upon each other, climbing the side of a hill. The layers of the seemingly edgeless pools were filled with slowly flowing, opalescent waters which cascaded in thin sheets over the side into the tiered pools below. The largest and lowest pool was on ground level, the next tier around a meter higher. The structure appeared like a pyramid formed of slowly moving water—with a square of black stone at each corner which were apparently used for lounging with a view, as evidenced by chairs alongside large, tan sun umbrellas.
The bottom-most pool was in use by men and women, both players and some NPCs. There was a noticeable shortage of clothing in the pool, which drew Dakkon’s eyes and off balanced him further. Surrounding the massive, functional sculpture that was the water pyramid, were statue gardens formed to the theme of Egyptian gods. Dakkon had never seen such a display of wealth and the whole situation put him on edge.
The guards pulled Dakkon to the feet of an oversized lounge chair, on the corner of the pyramid, with a frame made of lightly-colored wood and formed by a breathable canvas material. The chair was on the stone step a meter up from where he now stood, nearly level with the next pool tier. The guards parted and stood behind Dakkon.
A man, seated in the chair, adjusted his shaded glasses and asked, “And who have we caught trying to sneak into my vault?” The man in the chair’s name was not visible, which Dakkon realized must be due to his partially obstructed facial features. A guard stepped up from behind Dakkon and pulled his hood down, exposing his face.
“Ah, Dakkon,” said the man. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” The man tilted his bespectacled head appraisingly. “You know wind magic, too?” the man muttered in confusion. His face lit up. “Ah, forgive my poor manners,” he waved the guards away with a flick of his wrist and pulled his sunglasses from his face, revealing a floating blue nametag above his head.
“My name is Gullen, welcome to my little paradise.”
“You seem to know of me already,” said Dakkon in a voice that was less steady than he had expected it to be.
“That I do, my friend. I have heard very interesting stories about you.” Gullen turned to a lone servant who had been standing nearby in case his master needed service and said, “Go and fetch Azizi.” The servant turned and left immediately.
“Is that so?” asked Dakkon, cautiously.
“It is. I’ve heard that you are a capable fighter, a talented mage, and a clever opportunist. All while being only level 24.”
Dakkon was somewhat perturbed. A player’s character level was not publicly available information, though it can be checked once you group with another player. As far as he knew, that meant one of his recent party members must have shared the information. It didn’t exactly feel like a betrayal, but the open revelation that Gullen had such specific information about him made the powerful stranger seem slimy.
“I see you know me… well,” said Dakkon.
“Not well enough,” said Gullen. “You have the spark of ambition. I like that. I want the best players on my team, you see. It keeps everyone honest.”
If it were an NPC reclining before Dakkon, then it would probably feel like he was about to be offered some sort of quest. Instead, the few words exchanged felt as though the man in front of him wanted to keep Dakkon under his thumb.
“What did you have in mind?” asked Dakkon.
“Straight to the point? I like that, too. Before I get to the meat of things, however, I must ask a question of my associate, Azizi. For now, relax and enjoy the view I’ve created. It’s spectacular here, no?”
Dakkon did as he was requested. He likely owed Gullen that much after Dakkon’s attempt on the vault—even though he didn’t realize it was a vault he was trying to enter. All things considered, that could have gone a lot worse for him. It was entirely possible that Dakkon was jumping the gun when it came to labeling Gullen’s character.
A few minutes later, an NPC wearing white robes appeared from a path behind Gullen which connected to the hill set against the back side of the pyramid. Dakkon presumed this was the man they had been waiting for: Azizi. Gullen turned to Azizi and bid the man lean near to him. Gullen spoke a few words in Azizi’s ear and the robed man straightened his back, then nodded.
Azizi walked in front of Dakkon and, without a word of salutation, began to wave his hands slowly through the air as he chanted in a low tone.
“What the hell?” Dakkon shot up and out of his seat in alarm.
Gullen chuckled. “Relax,” he said. “He’s only checking something to satisfy my curiosity.”
Azizi’s chanting and gestures ended abruptly. A ray of golden light descended from somewhere above and surrounded Dakkon briefly. Then the light faded away from him except for around his dagger and scabbard, where it lingered. The robed man’s eyes widened and he turned to Gullen, nodding.
“Yes, I see it,” said Gullen, whose gaze was fixed firmly on Dakkon. “I have a proposition for you. As a man who likes to get straight to the point, how would you like to make 10,000 credits?”
“You have my attention,” said Dakkon.
“I am something of a collector of curios,” said Gullen in a casual tone which seemed at odds with his now-unwavering gaze. “It appears that your blade is just the sort that I like. I’ll admit that I was at best skeptical before, but the wind magic on top of that really gave me hope. And here we have it,” Gullen gestured toward Dakkon’s sheathed dagger. “What do you say, Dakkon, want to make 10 grand from a line of computer code?”
