by James Hunter
But those openings and gaffs evolved and changed.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one learning. No, the Corrupt Valdgeist picked up on my strategy almost as quickly as I picked up on theirs, and they adapted accordingly. Just when I found myself falling into complacency, one of the tree creatures would change tactics, lashing out with a surprise uppercut or catching me off guard with a wild blow that’d knock me from my feet. Smart. Dangerous. And even more troubling, the deeper I went, the faster the creatures became, quickly eliminating one of my major advantages. It made things more difficult overall, but also more interesting.
Grinding often got mind-numbingly boring because it was so repetitive, but this was never that. I was never quite sure how things would play out.
It’d been nearly an hour—and about twenty Corrupt Valdgeist later—when I heard the guttural rumble of an inhuman voice coming from a small clearing up ahead. I pulled up my in-game clock and checked the time: 1:25 PM. I frowned. I really needed to turn around and head back if I wanted to meet Abby on time, but my curiosity got the better of me. I crept forward, wrapped in Stealth, cloaked in shadow, feet silent in the undergrowth, and pressed my body up against a tree, stealing a gander around the side of the trunk.
The breath caught in my throat …
I counted thirteen or fourteen Corrupt Valdgeist wandering around in a lopsided meadow—a few shuffled listlessly, a few more were curled into hollowed-out burrows of mud and stone. Fast asleep. Some were even eating, stuffing their misshapen jaws with clumps of dried dirt or munching on handfuls of rotten leaves. This was some sort of den. Strangest of all, though, was the large, gnarled birch tree in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a fairy ring of brown-capped mushrooms.
The tree, labeled as a [Hamadryad], had a face on it.
And not just some crude picture carved into the bark. No, an actual face protruded from the white bark: a bulbous nose of knotted wood, deep-set chestnut-brown eyes, a thin gash of a mouth framed by mossy facial hair. “You make me sick, all of you,” the tree bellowed in an earthy voice. “Why can’t you leave my forest in peace!” His mossy beard fluttered as he hollered. “You come in here and spread your rot around, corrupt my brothers with your presence. A pox on you, on all of you.”
The Corrupt Valdgeist ignored the tree’s accusatory rant, carrying on about their business as though they were alone in the world. None of them went near the tree man though; they avoided the toadstone fairy ring as though it carried a deadly poison. The tree continued his ineffectual muttering, offering up colorful curses, occasionally taking a break to complain about how bad the Corrupt Valdgeist reeked or fondly reminisce about better times, back before the infection in the forest.
It was a strange, surreal scene, and I couldn’t help but think of Courage the Cowardly Dog, screaming and buggy-eyed as he confronted a talking tree. That was my life now. I was Courage the Cowardly Dog.
I didn’t really know what to do here. The RPGer in me screamed there was a quest to be had, but the realist in me said there was no way I could take on that many Corrupt Valdgeist and walk away. I was simply outmatched and too low level. Especially without the benefit of having a class yet.
I pulled up my map and marked the spot with a personal quest marker, then jotted down a note: weird tree-face creature in mushroom fairy ring. I closed out of the map and turned away, ready to hustle back toward the ruined temple, and my alarm went off—the one I’d set for myself as a reminder to wrap things up. The brrp, brrp, brrp was only audible inside my head, but that didn’t keep it from startling the heck out of me. I jumped at the sound, irrationally afraid the Corrupt Valdgeist would somehow hear it.
I managed to dismiss the alarm, but in all my reckless commotion, I’d broken out of Stealth mode.
A fact which was plainly obvious since the host of Corrupt Valdgeist immediately streamed toward me, warbling cries of hate ripping through the air as their lanky limbs ate up the distance between us. Looked like I was going to fight these things after all. The first one lunged for me from the trees, weathered root arms straining to spill my blood onto the forest floor. I ducked beneath the attack and dove into a roll, which carried me just outside its effective attack range. I popped back up onto my feet a moment later, pivoting, spinning, bringing the warhammer around in a vicious swing.
I caught the creature in the back of its neck, dropping it in a single, critical hit blow. I didn’t have time to celebrate my lucky break, though, because three more of the creatures were circling around me, hemming me in. I didn’t have much in the way of hit points, unfortunately, so I really couldn’t afford to take a beating, tank-style. I needed space to maneuver. I feinted left, then shot right, catching one of the Valdgeist in the knee with the spiked tip of my weapon. The creature wobbled, suddenly unstable, so I charged into it, shouldering it aside and bursting into the meadow beyond.
Now in the clear, I sprinted straight for the fairy ring surrounding the strange talking tree.
Another of the root creatures barreled in as I neared the ring, throwing its body forward in an awkward dive. I leapt, feet passing above the outstretched creature—a running back clearing the offensive line for a TD—barely avoiding the tangle of limbs. I landed hard, stumbled, then wheeled around and smashed my hammer into the creature’s exposed head, ending its existence. Finally, I hurled my body inside the protection of the fairy ring, safe at last. At least I hoped my hunch was correct and that the ring would offer some protection.
If I was wrong, my little excursion was going to quickly end with a painful game over.
I waited, shoulders tense, muscles flexed, as the horde of remaining Corrupt Valdgeist circled back around, pressing in toward the ring of mushrooms. One creature, partially composed of rock, twigs and old deer bones, charged my position—only to rebound from an unseen force field surrounding the strange tree. I let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
“Smart thinking, boy,” came a booming voice from behind me. I leapt in shock and spun, hammer raised, though careful to stay inside the ring. “No need for that,” the tree said, gesturing toward my hammer with bushy green eyebrows. “Me thinks we’re on the same side. The real question now is, how do you plan to escape?”
I lowered the hammer and turned back to survey the scene. The tree man had a point. I was safe for the time being, but I was also trapped. Trapped and surrounded on every side. I’d have to leave eventually, but there wasn’t a good way to go about that.
“You see the problem,” the tree boomed sagely. “Not only are we on the same side, we are in the same boat. Exactly the same boat. You see, I erected the fairy ring barrier to keep their infection out”—he nodded toward the Valdgeist, his trunk groaning from the movement—“but, as a result, my influence is confined to this damned circle. A stopgap measure ensuring my safety, but a sure-fire loser in the long run.”
Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit me and I dropped to my butt, letting my weapon fall to the leaf-strewn ground beside me. Heading for the fairy ring had seemed like such a good idea in the moment. I let out a long, tired sigh and leaned back on my hands. I could jump in and out of the protection of the toadstool circle—try to take them out one at a time—but if even one of them caught me in a root spell, I’d be trapped and dead. Not a lot of good choices.
“It seems to me,” the tree said after several moments of quiet, disturbed only by the restless shuffling of the Corrupt Valdgeist, “that we might be able to help each other.”
“I’m listening,” I replied, glancing over one shoulder at the tree.
“Excellent. Excellent. It might be that I could break this fairy ring and exert my considerable influence to see you safely from this clearing, but in return, I’ll need you to do a somewhat significant favor for me. You see, once I break the fairy ring, I’ll be exposed to the infection plaguing this forest. In time, it will kill me. Or worse, transform me into a [Greater Corrupt Valdgeist]. But if you destroy the evil tainting the forest, it will undo these v
ile abominations and restore the balance of this land. I help you, you help me. Tit for tat. And if you succeed in this quest, I’ll even grant you the blessing of the forest.” He paused, wooden lips puckered. “So? What say you, boy?”
A new quest alert popped up:
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: Cleanse the Taint
A powerful Hamadryad has requested your assistance in cleansing an evil presence that is tainting the forest, creating a host of Corrupt Valdgeist. Venture to the fallen ruins not far to the west, and destroy the source of the dark taint.
Quest Class: Rare
Quest Difficulty: Hard
Success: Destroy the source of the dark taint within (24) in-game hours.
Failure: Fail to destroy the source of the dark taint within (24) in-game hours.
Reward: 10,000 EXP; Blessing of the Forest: Your relationship with forest-aligned factions will improve from Neutral to Friendly. If you fail, you will receive Curse of the Forest: Your relationship with forest-aligned factions will decrease from Neutral to Unfriendly.
Accept: Yes/No?
<<<>>>
I stared at the screen, reading over the quest once, twice, three times, then checking and double-checking the reward. What were the chances the ruins this tree-guy wanted me to clear were the very same ruins I was already on my way to clear? Pretty good. And though the quest difficulty was listed as hard, turning down a rare quest at this stage in the game—or any stage, really—was stupid. Besides, what other option did I have? If I didn’t accept, the tree wouldn’t help me escape, which was a certain death sentence.
“Okay,” I said somewhat halfheartedly, selecting accept.
FOURTEEN: Skill Bump
“One … Two … Three!” The Hamadryad shouted, his voice nearly deafening up close.
Sweat dotted my brow and a nervous energy caused my warhammer to tremble in anticipation as I stared down the horde of Corrupt Valdgeist barring my path. Even accounting for the three I’d managed to kill, there were still over ten of them. Ten. This seemed like a dumb idea, but I was already committed, so when the tree hit three, I bolted straight out, dismissing the pang of worry nestled in my gut. The root-monsters came for me the second I cleared the toadstool ring, clawed hands extended.
I met their advance with my hammer.
Clocking one in the face with a glancing blow, sending it stumbling away in shock, then smashing a forearm and jabbing the weapon up at an angle into another’s jaw. The damage wasn’t sufficient to put down the Corrupt Valdgeist for keeps, but it did clear a path.
More streamed in from the left and right, though, so unless the Hamadryad came through for me, they were going to shortly converge on me and rip me limb from limb. I tried not to think about that, and instead hunched forward, dropping my head, and kept charging right on ahead. Just as the creatures entered my peripheries, a gigantic snap-boom reverberated in the air as huge tree roots, big as jungle pythons, ripped their way free from the ground, dusty earth raining down.
The tree roots writhed and stretched, curling around the encroaching Corrupt Valdgeist like giant hands, crushing frail bodies and holding them firmly in place. A mega version of the root spell that’d ensnared me earlier. Pretty cool, actually.
For a moment I kept running, eager to leave the clearing behind, but then I came to a stuttering halt. I turned and quickly assessed the scene. The tree-man had managed to snare all of the Corrupt Valdgeist, and although I didn’t know how long his spell would last, for the time being, they were completely defenseless. Helpless. I’d come out here to grind some EXP, and those were basically free points if I had the guts to take them.
I rushed back in with a warbling war cry and went to town, caving in heads with brutal efficiency. They couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. It was easier than smashing a piñata without a blindfold. The whole process took less than a minute—the Hamadryad enthusiastically spurred me on with hoots of approval the whole while—and before I knew it, I’d killed every creature and cleared a ton more EXP.
I looted the bodies with practiced efficiency and, after another quick “goodbye and good-luck” from the tree-man, headed back toward the ruins and my appointed meeting with Abby. I pulled up my menu as I walked, deciding a little multitasking would save me from the tedium of a long, boring return trip.
First, I checked my new quest and was pleased to find the evil presence tainting the forest was, indeed, located at the ruins I was already scheduled to raid. Two birds with one stone. Next, I toggled over to my “Character” screen, eager to examine the gains I’d made in this little restricted slice of the world.
<<<>>>
x8 Level Up!
You have (65) undistributed stat points! Stat points can be allocated at any time.
You have (12) unassigned proficiency points! Proficiency points can be allocated at any time.
<<<>>>
So far, I’d managed to push myself to level fourteen—not bad the way I figured things. True, there were probably players out there at much higher levels, but I still had some big quests remaining to my name, and those quests came with some hefty EXP bonuses. The biggest problem I had at the moment wasn’t my level, it was my lack of class. Even knowing the Shadowmancer kit likely lay in my future wasn’t much help, since I couldn’t access a wiki or pull up a class description. Without that, I really had no idea what major stats to invest my finite stash of points into.
Annoying, but there was nothing I could do about it right now.
As soon as I wrapped up this business with Abby, though, I was jumping headlong into the quest provided by that Murk Elf Shaman. Satisfied with my progress, I dismissed my character screen and pulled up my inventory. I’d accumulated over a hundred gold coins and almost double that in silver, which was quite the haul, and I’d also managed to get a few item drops to boot.
Though most of the Corrupt Valdgeist only dropped coins, one had dropped a short sword with a +1 to Strength, and another had given me a set of black braided leather leggings with a +1 Constitution bonus and an extra 2% resistance to fire. Despite the sword’s extra stat bonus, I decided to stick with my warhammer—it just felt right in my hands. Besides, during my short grind session, I’d already managed to raise my Blunt Weapons skill to level 4, which added an extra 11% damage to all blunt weapon attacks; it’d be a shame to start over after all of that.
The new leggings, though, were a heck of a lot better than the (shoddy) rough trousers I was currently sporting, so I swapped those in a heartbeat.
With that done, I decided to finally check out my Skills section. After unwittingly spending a point on the Umbra Bolt spell, I had 12 unassigned Proficiency Points remaining, and I wasn’t even sure what they did. When I pulled up the Skills menu, a huge screen spread out before me, with a variety of different Skill Trees splayed out in the air: Blunt Weapons, Bladed Weapons, Archery, Unarmed, Forging, Crafting, Enchanting, Merchant-craft, Heavy Armor, Medium Armor, Light Armor, Stealth, Lock Pick, Mage-craft, Animist, and Healer.
Wow, there was almost too much information to take in. Each Skill had its own unique branch with specialty abilities, which could be invested in by allocating Proficiency Points. Since I was reasonably sure I was going to stick with the warhammer, regardless of which class I ultimately ended up with, I selected the Blunt Weapons Tree to see what kind of cool abilities I could unlock.
At my relatively low level with Blunt Weapons, there weren’t many options available. At the higher levels, however, I could unlock skills like Skull Bash—a special power attack capable of stunning enemies while also ignoring 50% of an opponent’s base armor rating—or the Crush Armor ability, which came with a 250% attack bonus against opponents in heavy plate. Powerful stuff.
Even at my paltry level 4, however, there were a few cool things I could do. First, I invested one point into Savage Blow, an attack that cost 20 stamina, increased damage by 25%, and raised Critical Hit by 15%. I also picked Parry, increasing my chance of blocking without a sh
ield while additionally giving me a 10% chance to counterattack with a 125% movement bonus. That dropped me down to 10 points to invest, but I felt happy with my choice.
I was getting ready to check out what the Stealth Tree had to offer when I broke from the tree line and into the meadow I’d left Cutter cooling his heels in. I paused mid-step and dismissed the menu hovering in front of me. There was a broad-shouldered Risi warrior wearing heavy, black-coated plate mail, and he had Cutter pinned in front of him—a wicked blade held tight against the Thief’s throat.
FIFTEEN: Abby Intrigue
“Don’t take another step,” the Risi warrior growled, fangs barred in a rictus. “Not unless you’d care to see what the inside of your friend’s throat looks like.”
“How did you let him sneak up on you?” I hissed at Cutter, trying to decide what to do. “You’re supposed to be a super ninja thief. That guy doesn’t look all that stealthy.”
“I fell asleep,” Cutter replied through gritted teeth. “Now please do what the smelly thug says, since I’m a huge fan of not dying. My kind doesn’t respawn like you travelers—death is sort of a big, permanent deal for us.”
“So this Thief really is with you,” came a female voice off to the right. In my peripheral vision, a swath of tree line rippled, distorted, then changed, revealing a short, curvy woman with an intricate pile of brown curls. She wore an elegant blood-red robe, studded with shimmering jewels, and carried a sleek dark wood staff carved with ember-red script and topped by a fat crimson ruby the size of a pigeon’s egg.
“Is that you, Abby?” I asked, squinting at her. Abby and I went back all the way to our college days. We’d stayed in touch through a variety of MMOs, but I hadn’t actually seen her IRL in years. The woman over there could’ve been Abby, though. She had the same dark skin, the same frame and build, the same hair, though everything was refined and dusted with the sheen of over-perfect VR.
