That was doubly important to retain my skills increase. Old Man Carver had a wealth of abilities across the board. Examples included [Knowledge: General Weapon Handling] which stacked on top of [Weapon Focus: Two-Hander] and [Weapon Focus: Bladed]. The list went on. Like a true player, both kinds, his skills were many and varied.
The new players were sent on their way. Recently I had dealt with an odd group—three creepily happy faces like children on Christmas. Each one had a different goal in mind, but they approached as a trio. They walked with the same pace and overly annoying swagger. Even their names were styled the same.
Siblings? No, their faces were different enough that they were probably something else, such as longtime friends. Continue Online enforced a seventy-percent body likeness for all new players. They could edit their looks or become other races, but there would still be a similarity to the person in real life.
“Ehh.”
Children ran by with parents strolling around.
“Ehhh.” Another groan. They didn’t seem to be letting up today.
In the distance, a small, fuzzy creature was watching me intently. [Coo-Coo Rill]s had taken to keeping a scout following me around. Abnormally smart for NPC rodents. Keeping tabs on me would let them track the [Messenger’s Pet] and protect their treasures.
“Ehh. Hm.”
Noises kept escaping me uncontrollably. By now, I was almost used to it. Hours passed while I groaned and thought about all manner of things. Nothing seemed to be happening fast enough. The few players and NPCs that had showed up didn’t mention my flier. Fine.
I had under two weeks left. Maybe something would push me up to a higher percentage so that this quest could be completed with a great adventure. I needed to solve this issue with Mylia. One new player was working on that very topic for me.
“Hmm.”
Maybe I could get in a fight with something. The [Messenger’s Pet] had attempted to conquer everything his size across [Haven Valley]. Why not me?
Three useless days passed by. Thoughts jumbled around in my head—possible ways to find adventure or talk to Mylia. Oddly, she hadn’t passed me once since our vague interaction. Even the orphanage children seemed to shy away. Phil, who was doing to and from chores, was always huffing through.
Oh. Oh, wait. I had an idea. Neat! When one possibility came through, a whole series followed closely behind. Many possible angles fitting a cheesy high school plot occurred to me in rapid succession. Why would Old Man Carver care about Mylia? Why would she care about Carver being a [Dragon Slayer]? Why would Carver want one last adventure?
“Ehhh!” A happy groan escaped me. I tried to stand up and do a jig. After a few weeks of stonewalling, I finally had a path through.
All these things were related somehow. Beth had been on point. Quests had layers upon layers. Doing this wasn’t as simple as sitting on a bench pretending to be an old man for four weeks! Setting up a flier would only garner so much attention, and I hadn’t had a real bite regarding it.
“Aha ha ha.”
My hips hurt like crazy and my shoulder ached, but happiness overrode all of that. I kept trying to dance around my cane for entirely too long as ideas occurred to me one after the other. My stamina bar was dwindling rapidly and warning boxes spun into existence.
“Carver, what are you up to now?”
“Dancing in happiness. It’s what you do when you’re happy,” I grumbled and kept going, but my momentum had dwindled in the face of witnesses. Sure enough, the one percent gained from helping new players went away, leaving me back at seventy-four.
“Wyl, I need someone to watch my seat for the rest of the day.”
“Oh? That’s unusual. You have plans?” His constant grin was turned up to the max.
“I’m going to talk to some beautiful ladies.”
“That sounds…”
“I know! I’m too old for the ladies!” I, in Old Man Carver’s body, had already started walking off. “But the ladies aren’t too old for me!”
That wonderfully cheesy comment scored me a percent back. Whew, I needed the bonus for being at seventy-five percent in order to make this work. [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] would be super useful in sorting through these possibilities that had occurred to me.
First would be the High Priestess of Selena up the outcropping. That walk would take forever. I trudged my way up the virtual, in both senses, mountain. It took almost an hour of staggering and frequent pit stops before this old body made it up the hill to Selena’s column-littered temple.
Recently I had discovered William Carver had a number of titles: [Dragon Slayer], [Guide], ones for other monsters killed, bounty hunting, or top-tier skills. One out-of-place title was marked “New” with bright fancy letters. This one said [Messenger], but it had no information. I had a feeling it was tied to William Carver’s warning of the Travelers’ impending arrival.
Being able to separate my own information from William Carver’s seemed impossible at this point. Hopefully these things would become more obvious soon. Considering the detrimental traits with Carver’s body, it was a wonder he accomplished anything. These problems offset his abilities. Otherwise, Carver could run out of town, slay all the monsters in the area, and make it back before dinner. That was the difference between his gathered abilities and statistics versus other new players.
Skills, on the other hand—once I unlocked this latest bonus—were the key. I couldn’t lose a rank if I wanted this plan to succeed. Telling off Selena’s statue was not to be considered. Glaring at her fuzzy marble form in the distance didn’t lose me any points in progress though.
“Ehhh.”
“William. This is unusual of you,” said the plump High Priestess sounding sweet with a note of caution.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure it is. We should sit.” I lifted the cane and pointed toward the same ledge we had shared a week ago.
I couldn’t make out her face from this angle. Carver’s vision was a bit more blurry than normal right now. Most of my hour-long journey had been spent trying to find the right landmarks and checking my map.
“If you desire so, William, we can sit.”
“Good. Good.” Slowly nodding, I debated which of my two options would be best. Method one included the blunt telling of who I was and what I was doing here. Method two involved vague questions to avoid losing my progress points.
My little friend the [Messenger’s Pet] poked his head out of my hood and looked around. Moments later, while my old silent self was debating what to choose, the tiny dragon leapt off the cliff and soared away.
High Priestess Peach sighed. For once, it didn’t seem sweet or pleasant. It seemed sad, extremely sad.
That was an opener and made me toss the roundabout questioning process out the window. Besides, WWCD implied that being vague and coy was the wrong route to go.
“You were the first to ask me about him.” I shook the cane toward where the tiny dragon had leapt off. “Why?”
“Because if that”—Priestess Peach managed to sound twisted with sadness—“is a Messenger’s Pet, it means you’ll be dead soon.”
Old Man Carver’s [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t show any falsehoods. Plus she’d answered without any sort of hesitation. So much for being suspicious. I nodded slowly, once again asking myself, WWCD?
“And if it were true?” He would ask questions. Old Man Carver didn’t provide others information until he got something out of them.
“Then it’d be a sad day for all of us.”
“Ehh.” The groan escaped me.
“Hips again?” she asked.
“And everything else,” I admitted. “Rest easy, Peach, I’ve no intention of dying.”
“Only the Voices can know, William. If they sent the Messenger’s Pet to you, then your time is set. Soon you’ll be gone.”
“Then I’ll go out the same way I lived.”
“Oh?”
“An adventurer. I’ll do my best to go out like an ad
venturer.” Carver had never considered himself a hero. Not once did he use that word in his journals. His actions certainly fit the ideal version of one though. Slaying monsters for the greater good of all common folks was a tried-and-true method for becoming great.
“Is that why there’s a flier in town?”
Standing was difficult with this old frame. Priestess Peach had her answer so I took the Carver way out of things and didn’t give any additional information. The advertisement had my name signed across its bottom.
“William?”
I gestured a good-bye with the cane and slowly made my way out of the temple. My conversation hadn’t awarded me any solid progress points. Giving Selena’s statue a parting innuendo wasn’t worth the loss. Soon I was too far away to hear her questioning tone.
Onward, toward my next target! Maybe I would get there before sundown. I ambled past Peg’s training hall. She was busy yelling at the latest person to try her brand of torture. Farther on my route was the bakery. Pie Master and Ladette were both there and waved. A third person was busy sweeping up the shops. My first Traveler, the girl who’d wanted to learn cooking, was still in town. She smiled. I grunted with a cane-lifting salute and got my batch of cookies.
I ordered an extra dozen as part of my peace offering. Chances were they would come in handy after my conversation with Mylia. If not, then perhaps Phil would take my money-making bribe. As an old man, I’d stumbled across one fantastic idea that a newbie town should have put in a long time ago.
While resting, I studied the map. During one stop, a player came up and asked me for guidance. I glared and gave him a mindless task—earn Peg’s approval. The player didn’t know it, but Peg would be able to give him a quest related to his goals if he did well.
Almost two hours had passed by the time I got to Mylia’s orphanage. The sun wasn’t down, so no points were lost. Hopefully this behavior wasn’t too far out of the norm for Carver. Teetering on the edge of this percentage bonus was mildly nerve-racking.
“Geezer! What are you doing here?” Phil shouted at me far before I made it to the door.
“Bringing a peace offering. Help out or get nothing.”
“More cookies?” Phil hushed as he drew closer, as though we were discussing a conspiracy. “What do I need to do for some extras?”
I leaned in and pretended to conspire with the youth. “Help me smooth things over with Mylia.”
Phil put out a hand and gestured toward the bag.
“Cookie first.”
Smart boy. He wasn’t giving anything away for free either.
“We have a deal then?” Carver wouldn’t hand over anything first. Not without some sort of exchange.
“Sure thing, geezer, you know we orphans don’t renege on our deals.” He was practically glowing in anticipation. “Deal’s a deal’s a deal.”
[Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t trigger. I forked over a cookie slowly. Luckily the [Messenger’s Pet] hadn’t come back or there would be some cookies missing already.
“So?” I asked.
“Hah! You don’t smooth things over with her. Once you’re on her list you’re on it forever!” Phil said.
“Am I?” Here was my next outright test of Carver’s abilities. I gave Phil the best level stare this body could muster while hoping those were his eyes and not his smudged cheeks. Blurry vision was a curse.
“On her list?” the youngster asked.
“Yes, yes. Come on, boy, you know darn well what I’m asking.” I tried to sound grumpy and it came out exhausted.
“Sure do. And no, I don’t think you’re on her list yet. Maybe. She’s been upset though. Easier to make mad. The littles have been running scared when she comes in.”
I frowned. That wasn’t a good sign. Phil watched everything like a hawk. His [Identification] results led me to believe that he knew what was going on between Mylia and me. The boy had a few traits of his own that all pointed toward a grifter watching for his mark.
“What’s going on out there, Phil? Who’s here?” Mylia was practically shouting from inside the house. If she hadn’t been so loud, I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand her.
“Got to go! Bye, geezer!” Phil snatched another cookie and ran off.
“Ehhh.”
The door slammed open in a rush as Mylia tried to catch us conspiring.
“Mister Carver. What are you doing skulking about out there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you finally lost your mind.” Judging by her tone, I was certainly not in a good place with Mylia.
“Oh, no worries, Mylia. I lost it a long time ago.”
Mylia looked at the bag I was still holding awkwardly with one hand. The cane was barely offsetting its weight.
“More treats? Those may work on the kids, but not on me, Mister Carver.”
“Miss Jacobs, if I knew what worked on you, I would have tried it a long time ago.” Which would have solved this whole side quest from the get-go.
She actually smiled a little even though my progress bar showed a negative response. It must have been part of a percent though, because I managed to stay above seventy-five. Some of my progress points went like that, with a flash of red and green arrows but overall unchanged numbers.
“You can keep right on trying, Mister Carver. Maybe one day you’ll crack it.”
“I don’t have long left to figure it out, Mylia Jacobs.” Combining Priestess Peach’s information with Mylia’s earlier concern painted an obvious picture. A [Messenger’s Pet] somehow heralded death.
She stood in the doorway looking flustered. Up close it was easy to see how thin she looked. More so than she had looked in the days prior. Mylia seemed to be wasting away. Was she sick with something?
“So it’s true then?” she asked.
“About the Messenger’s Pet?” Standing here holding a bag of cookies was getting harder. My stamina bar was dropping slowly.
“Yes.”
“I honestly don’t know the answer,” I said.
“So you’re not going to die?” Her words came out slowly, with a hint of confusion.
“Mylia Jacobs, we all die eventually.” I tried not to think of the woman who had been my fiancée.
“That’s morbid for an old man. Do you think you can just die and leave all your past deeds unpunished?” she said.
Clearly the whole Dragon Slayer thing had been key in her attitude change. Stories about Carver’s past should have been shared around town before.
I sighed and moved on with the next phase—poorly trying to tie in our past moments to progress this quest forward.
“Do you remember the poem you read, Mylia?”
“I do.”
“Then the answer is clear. If I do pass, I will not regret my choices.”
“What choices could possibly bother a seasoned man like yourself?”
I tried to stomp my foot in emphasis but didn’t manage to move that fast. The slight lean reminded me instead of Carver’s hip problems.
“Mylia, what bothers me is unimportant, but I killed a dragon and that disturbs you.”
This wasn’t me taking a stab in the dark at why her attitude had changed. She was clearly upset because the quest text had said so. Too bad Carver’s [Truth Sense: Verbal specialist] didn’t extend to body language.
As Beth had pointed out, quests may have layers. Side quests may tie together in weird ways to the situation at hand. She had suggested thinking about what the NPCs had, what the players had, and think outside the box.
Old Man Carver was not the sort to give away information unless there was an exchange. He kept his cards close to his chest. He grumbled about everything. Like these cookies that were now too heavy to hold. I set them down.
“Why would you say that, Mister Carver?” she asked.
“Because I’ve been around the block quite a few times, Mylia. I may be blind, nearly deaf, have an ache in my joints when it’s too hot or cold, and my shoulders
kill me every morning, but I’m not stupid. Just old.” Progression points up!
“So? Why does any of that mean you care? You come around and tell your stories, and the kids like it, but why?” Mylia asked.
Another person was testing my WWCD instincts. But, and this was the important part, she was reacting to these statements. Mylia was giving me more information and talking more than in the entirety of the last two weeks. Pushing her now would be useful in solving the quest. Tossing my Carverisms out the window right now would be risky to my progress marker. I had come up with a roundabout plan to get more information.
“I came to see the kids anyway, about a story.”
“Fine. For the children,” she said.
“For the children.” I chuckled. “The battle cry of warring couples everywhere.” Mylia got a pat on the shoulder as I walked past her into the orphanage. “Warn me before you start throwing dishes.” Progress points dropped from my offhanded snark.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Mylia at least played along rather well.
My chuckling continued. She was a fun lady. If it weren’t for this whole quest series while pretending to be William Carver, I would have had a better time.
“Uncle Carver!”
“Mistrr Caaver.” The youngest little girl seemed pleased.
“Hi, little miss. I brought treats again.”
“Yay!” The children descended on the container like a pack of savages. Considering their almost constantly thin look, they were probably always hungry.
“Eat them all before my little friend shows up.”
“The tiny baby dragon whelp thing guy?” one of the little children asked. They had been relegated to the back of the cookie line.
I nodded. “That’s the one. He’s a bit of a pig, so you’d best hide all the crumbs.”
“Okey, Caaver.”
“Good. I spent time trying to find out the best story ever to tell you all, but I’ve been having a hard time. Maybe instead, you all can help me.”
“Uncle Carver, I want to pet the little dragon.”
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 26
