by Brent Roth
Days like these.
These were the kind of days where you didn't mind just lying around, doing nothing more than enjoying what nature herself provided. To let the lapping waves wash your troubles away. And for the wind to carry what was left, to some far off place. Bask in the glory of the sun, for night was sure to come.
Yawn.
Opening my eyes, it became apparent that I had fallen asleep and an hour had already passed me by. Behind me, my collection of furs lay undisturbed.
A lucky thing when one is so close to civilization.
Thievery was always an issue wherever people were concerned.
Collecting myself and my gear, I headed south towards that town in the distance. It was only a few minutes away, barely a couple of miles at most.
Yeah, it wouldn't be long now.
The closer I came, the more detailed the scene. Soon the bustle of a town made itself known as groups of blobs flurried about in the not so far distance. Dozens, no, possibly a hundred… maybe hundreds of people had gathered.
This was the massively-multiplayer aspect I had been avoiding in the North. These were the people I had no desire to be associated with. But… they were a necessary evil. My dislike for the general population stemmed from a variety of things, none worth really mentioning. Only because it would become apparent in short order.
Gaming could bring forth the best or the worst in people.
Anonymity provided courage.
But, it also provided a situation where consequence was minimal if not lacking entirely.
It's quite telling really on the nature of humanity. When you bolster the courage of individuals through anonymity, it often leads to more bad than good. Free of the personal repercussions that would apply in a face to face situation, people feel as if they can get away with or do anything.
Yeah, I had no patience for that shit.
There was a good chance my name would be shining brightly red soon.
"Hey!"
Ah, the noise of the crowds could now reach my ears.
Good bye, serenity.
"Hey! The man with the furs!"
Well, I guess I should head to the trade post first.
"HELLO!"
What's with this Elf, I don't know you. Move.
Before I could continue any further a young female Elf had blocked my path and was standing with a hand on her hip while leaning forward. Waving her other hand in front of my face as if I was blind… who does she think she is?
"Finally you stop! Sheesh."
"Pardon me?"
"I've been calling out to you, but you kept walking…. Jeez."
"I see. What can I do for you, miss?"
Scratching my chin in confusion, I couldn't help but wonder what this elf girl in front of me could want from me. Looking around, I was certainly in the minority as far as races were concerned. At least seventy-percent of the population here were Elves, around twenty-percent were Dwarves, and the last ten-percent were Humans like me.
The girl seemed to take a deep breath as she continued, "Those furs you've got on that sled, are you selling them?"
A silly question, of course I would be selling them. Why else would I bring so many. With a puzzled face I replied, "Yeah. That was my intention."
"Sell them to me. How much do you want?"
She was brimming with a smile now.
She was a curious one, but to each his own. Thinking over what I had, I was a bit hesitant to name a price. The fact that I had yet to reach the trade post put me at a disadvantage since I didn't know the going rate for pelts in this town.
Well, let's see.
"I'm not set on a fixed price yet, having just arrived in town I'm unaware of the going rate."
Clasping her hands together, she started a rather long reply, "Oh! No biggie, I'll fill you in. I fancy myself as somewhat of a trader, and seeing as we're birds of a feather I'll help you out. Those wolf pelts are worth about 48 copper here at the trade post, I can probably sell them at maximum 72 copper if I took them all the way back to the Northeast. So, if you're interested at meeting somewhere in the middle, I think we can work out a deal."
With a weak smile and a nod, I took her at her word. She didn't strike me as an untrustworthy individual. Plus, I was usually pretty good at reading people.
"How many are you looking to buy here? I'll factor in a bulk price if that's what you're interested in."
"I'll take all of them. They're all white, right?"
"Yeah, they're all white. Is that important?"
With that last line she seemed shocked as her eyes went wide for a second while her head moved back. Regaining her composure she started to explain, "Yes that's important! White pelts are only found in the far North after all. The Northeast has silver and gray pelts; the Middle Kingdoms have black and dark brown, while the Southern Kingdoms have beige and tan."
She continued, "You… you aren't actually from the far North are you?"
With a smirk I laughed a little, "Ha, I am."
"Wow. I'm sorry for your troubles."
Hmm, it seems people really do look down on the North.
"Don't be, I get by just fine."
Thinking over everything she told me, it seemed the price of the pelts were worth more the further from the source you got. If the pelts were worth 33% more a hundred miles south and 100% more a hundred and fifty miles to the east from my original location, I could only imagine how much they would be worth in the Southern Kingdoms.
"Well, I have seven wolf pelts, sixteen fox pelts, and twenty-four rabbit pelts. Going by your numbers, the straight trade value would be 48c, 8c, and 3c respectively. I'll sell them all to you at a bulk price of 54c, 8c, and 3c each."
She looked at me with a confused expression as she quickly responded, "You're sure? I said I could sell them for 72c for the wolf pelts. And straight trade on the foxes and rabbits?"
Nodding my head I continued on, "Yeah, you also said that was your maximum value. I figured in travel expenses and came up with what I felt was a fair number. Like you said, we're both traders. I understand the costs associated with running a business, I have no interest in driving a hard bargain to squeeze a few copper coins. You can consider the fox and rabbits discounted for the information, as well."
Finishing my sentence, I offered my hand so we could shake and conclude business. I had no interest in standing around hawking my pelts individually, so this worked out in my favor.
Time was money, after all.
She readily shook my hand and handed over 5 silver coins and 78 copper. It was the first time I had seen a silver coin, which was equivalent to 100 copper coins… I felt a little bit fancy for a second.
"Thank you, I'm glad you didn't ask for 72c for a wolf pelt. If you did I would have slapped you for being an inconsiderate ass."
Ah, I suppose there are some greedy characters out there that think they're shrewd business men. They're only successful if the person they're doing business with is an idiot though. It was an interesting thought, but even if I was an ass, I wasn't someone who looked to cheat people.
"Before you go, that small crest on your jacket… is that your guild tab?"
"Yes! I'm in the guild [Liberated Souls]. We've got a small campsite in the Northeast!"
I think I might have found something valuable.
"Is there river access at your campsite?"
"Yep! But it's a small one, only about eight feet wide and two feet deep at the shallowest. Too small for any real boats sadly."
A large grin crept up on my face, "Would you be interested in future trades?"
After a long discussion, I parted with the female elf known as Ellieby with a loose verbal agreement to bring furs directly to her guild's campsite in a few weeks real-time. By then my shipyard should have churned out at least one longship.
An interesting thing in Dragon's Wrath was that any crafters that you recruited from the NPC-Recruiter came with a skillset based on the region you were in. Since I was
in the far North, the Scandinavian-like region, my shipbuilder came with the archaic knowledge of how to build a Viking Longship. In a Dark Age period game such as this, I had the best boat of the time frame by hundreds of years, at my disposal. A cold smile formed, but I didn't care. There were benefits to the North.
I just didn't want to tell anyone; they were my secrets after all.
Chapter 38: Looking For Group
(Sunday, May 23rd Game Day / Wednesday, February 17th Real Day)
Walking forth into the crowded town square I soon found myself surrounded by well over a hundred players screaming and shouting for all manner of things. The grassy clearing where I stood only provided for shoulder-width room, but it was a necessary inconvenience. Toggling the LFG option in the Menu, my name which had been hidden soon flickered on above my head.
Looking down into the small puddle beneath my feet I could see a clear reflection of light blue letters above me:
[Roth Sigurd, First of the North, Archer]
My name had been displayed along with my highest title and my highest proficiency in order for other players to see. Since I was now Looking For Group, it was a necessity. Though, there was no reason to display my title or Archery… there were a million Archers here already.
One look around the place and you could see that the majority of the population was filled with Archer or Rogue-types. They were your standard damage dealers or DPS even though the acronym didn't necessarily make sense for a person, seeing as it meant damage per second… but that's the way abbreviated phrases go nowadays.
Yeah, I would never find a party as an Archer.
This wasn't going to work.
Going back into the Menu, I toggled through the options to remove my title for privacy reasons along with switching my proficiency to Warrior. I had developed that through my usage of a Two-handed Axe and it should serve as a base tank despite the lack of shield.
Tanks were always in high demand, as were healers.
Staring back down into the puddle, the blue lights flickered for a moment as they changed to describe my new state:
[Roth Sigurd, Warrior]
Yeah, I liked that.
Within moments of the change a few invites rang up in front of my visual field, but I declined them all. I preferred those with manners even if it was a simple, "Hi, join my party!"
Anything was better than blind invites.
Those types of invites lacked tact, and spoke more of the people who sent them.
In the distance I could see two high elf females pushing their way through the crowd, stopping directly in front of me. The blonde clearly had some fun modifying her appearance as she was definitely not proportioned normally, with her exaggerated hips and ass that stuck out at least a hand. The brunette was a little tamer, but was still a modified appearance as well.
The blond spoke up first, "You're a tank right? We just need a tank."
Then the brunette chimed in, "We don't have any melee classes in our group."
Oh.
They were from different groups.
Answering them both, "Yeah, I'm a tank."
Unfortunately, this is where the situation becomes complicated. As the two girls stared at my character and the two-handed axe hanging off my back, the dagger in its sleeve on my chest, and a bow lingering by my shoulder just above the quiver dangling by my hip, they came to the major issue.
I had no shield.
The blond didn't seem to think about the shield though, as she asked, "Are you new here? Have you tanked before?"
Of course I've tanked before… but not in this game. It was a tricky question, one that couldn't be answered at face value. Hesitating first, and then just going with it I said, "Yeah I've tanked before, but I'm also new to this dungeon. It was just discovered the other day."
The brunette seemed to be the keener one as she pointed out, "Uh, you have a shield right? …I only see an axe, dagger, and bow."
Well that was quick.
"No, I don't use a shield to tank."
Yep, here it comes.
As soon as the words left my mouth both of the high elf females' faces contorted in that weird way people do when they can't believe what they just heard or saw. Like a comedy unfolding on their faces, I could read it plain as day.
The dejected brunette turned around and walked away with only a tsk.
The blond was a bit more sociable though, "Um, I'm sorry but we need a real tank with a shield to get through the boss fight. You won't be able to tank without one… but good luck!"
I didn't blame them for being cautious.
At the end of the day, most of the players who believed they were "tanks" weren't that great at it. Throw in that bucking typical convention and not gearing the way the masses gear… and well, you're shit out of luck.
People don't respond well to individuality when they don't have a personal reference. For all intents and purposes, if you don't follow "proper" convention you might as well be trash.
No shield, no invite.
That's how most of the players here would treat me.
The worst part was that tanking in general was such a neglected existence. Every party needed one player who could take the aggression and the attacks of the monsters they were fighting. In order to survive that player usually wore the heaviest of armors, thus he would be called the "tank."
But there was no praise or recognition for good tanks, only condemnation for the bad tanks. An unrewarding profession that tended to have more negative preconceptions than it was worth.
Thirty minutes had gone by and I had been rebuffed by twenty-seven parties.
I wasn't sure if there was even a twenty-eighth party to reject me.
I'm pretty sure they all rejected me, already.
Some were quite rude about it, too.
Grabbing my gear, I quickly dumped my sled and excess items off at a room in the inn and paid for a few nights stay. I had already grabbed the two quests pertaining to the First Floor of the dungeon and decided to try my luck elsewhere. At the entrance to the dungeon there were bound to be parties a little more desperate.
Proximity to the goal line has a way of clouding one's judgment.
The closer these parties were to starting the more persuasive having any type of tank would sound, regardless if he or she had a shield. And as I had predicted, relocating to the entrance of the dungeon had proved fruitful, as I ended up waiting thirty-seconds before being courted by a few parties.
Deciding to lay it all out at first to save the trouble, "I'm an experienced tank but new to this dungeon. I do not have a shield but my Health is at 2,100. My defense is also sufficiently high for our levels."
A few people turned around immediately and walked off, but two elves started murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually, they decided to include me in that discussion.
"You say you're experienced, so you've tanked before?"
"Yeah, and I've tanked for years in other games at a high level."
"I see. Your health is kind of high though… did you dump all your stats into Vitality?"
"Nah, I'm a premade."
"Oh, okay. Well, as long as you don't lose aggro, we'll go as far as we can."
Success!
Not a minute after arriving in front of the dungeon I was invited into a party. Screw the people in town who were trying to form the perfect party for an hour or two before ever stepping foot outside. This was how it was done.
Heading inside with them, the black-haired female elf that was talking to me appeared to be the healer of the party. She also had a small crest near her collar, as did the female rogue and both of the male archers next to her. They were of the same design as Ellieby's.
That could prove interesting.
Chapter 39: The First Floor
(Sunday, May 23rd Game Day / Wednesday, February 17th Real Day)
Stepping through the tranquil turquoise barrier that denoted the dungeon entrance was an odd feeling. The warm late spring air and s
unlight that was my reality a moment before was soon split by the cold muddy feeling of the barrier. Passing through that barrier, I found myself in a damp, dark dungeon; an old mining complex of sorts.
We were two worlds apart now.
Glancing at the gray and black rock walls that were barely visible as small torches burned along the edges, reflecting and projecting shadows across the domed ceiling, I had a feeling that things might get complicated. As we walked, our shadows appeared to dance around us yet just as quickly disappeared without a trace.
Yeah, the lighting in here wasn't that great.
The dark and dirty brown ground beneath our feet was mostly stable, which led to some general relief as there was no fear of stumbling or tripping. But there were areas that were slippery as moss appeared to be growing sporadically throughout; we would just have to be mindful of where we stepped.
Though of all things, it was the stagnant air filled with ash that was the least bearable. The smoke was difficult to breathe and clouded the eyes, obscuring our already dimly lit visual field even more. But it was a condition we would have to put up with.
With eyes and nostrils alike burning, we pushed forward.
The cave-system with its large open rooms connected by smaller passageways held together with a random assortment of lumber gave off an odd atmosphere. The sizes of the rooms were simply too large compared to the narrow tunnels between them.
Yeah, it was a dichotomy of strange proportions.
And then the echoes came.
Just out of sight and at the edge of our hearing, we could hear the faint chatter of the goblins. Multiple goblins were chattering in broken English for me, and perhaps chattering in a broken language of some other user's preference if selected.
Exiting the second of the narrow passageways and turning around the corner we were presented with our first glimpse of an in-game Goblin. The two [Outcast Goblins] and the three [Minor Outcast Goblins]... weren't fun to look at, really.
