by ilo man
“Yerl go no farther down this path,” said the dwarf said. Vinnie decided he was a mean-lookin' mother fucker with murder in his eyes. “Yea can skirt it a few miles that way, or a few the other, but yer not coming through here.”
Atrixa squared up to them, taking a brave step forward. “Are you barring our way?”
Perception Check: Gorbon. Dwarf, Head Pick—Lake Mine Tin Seam. NPC.
If possible, Gorbon puffed his chest out farther and raised his ax higher. “You can come through,” and he pointed his ax at Sorrell, “and you can come through.” He pointed at Atrixa. “But no pure-blood humans, especially players.”
“But dwarf and human are allied,” Atrixa pointed out.
“Times are different now, lady. Rumors are rife. The Witherers are on the wind. Orc and hobgoblins are gathering under the Twin Mountains. There’s talk of war, and talk of the hordes marching on the king.”
“All fair points, Gorbon,” said Atrixa. “Fair points but when the time comes to decide, not all humans will side with the dark, with Sivatious.”
“But most will. Prestige will seduce most,” and then just as Gorbon made to say some more, a god-awful screech filled the air. The dwarf looked up, and the blood drained from his face.
Vinnie’s gaze followed, scanning through a narrow slit in the trees. High up, just above the forest’s canopy, a black-cloaked skeleton hung in the sky. It sucked Vinnie’s gaze straight into to its eye sockets. The thing screeched again, its bony arms now spread, and it plunged straight down towards Vinnie.
As it dropped, Vinnie readied his staff, but as it closed, it grew and grew until it was twice the size of Sorrell. The temperature plunged. Vinnie’s breath froze as he exhaled. The dwarves all gaped upward seemingly immobile, Sorrell and Atrixa too. Down it dropped, through the gap in the trees, its screech like a kamikaze.
Vinnie screamed, his staff poised to strike. He dashed to Atrixa’s side, but she was frozen solid, just her eyes darting around in their sockets, fear painting her pupils, ice-cold fear. The thing crashed into the dwarves, scattering them like bowling pins, and stood in their stead, towering six feet above Vinnie.
Perception Check: Alastor. Witherer. Undead with a pinch of a demon, a hint of the banshee and a touch of necromancer thrown in for good measure. NPC.
“Not you,” Alastor said, “surely not you? Are you the chosen one? The bearer of the ring, the one and the only ring?”
Weighing up the options, Vinnie decided the question was probably rhetorical. He edged back a step. “Maybe.” His staff quivered, ready and eager to strike. He glanced either way along the path. Sorrell blocked one escape route, Atrixa the other, both rigid, both immobile. With the lake behind and the skinny impersonation of death in front, he decided his options for flight were limited.
Alastor reached out, bony fingers clawing at Vinnie. A screech hatched in the depths of his reaper’s cloak, flowing over Vinnie like shattering glass. Vinnie’s fear reached a tipping point. He hovered on the brink of tumbling into an abyss of hopelessness and pissing his pants as a bonus, or—
He growled a deep, dark, primeval growl. Anger pulsed in his veins, firing his heart. His staff whipped around, smashing into the bony beast before him, a sickening crunch. Alastor bent inward from the impact. Vinnie thought he saw a small, golden explosion, but the Witherer recovered quickly, lurching forward before Vinnie could set his feet and position his staff. A bony fist smashed into his jaw sending him flying backward, crashing into a tree. His body slid down it, but hot fury filled Vinnie, and he burst up, darting towards Alastor swinging his staff in the air and shouting, “Windmill!”
The Witherer cocked its head, its eye sockets looking decidedly confused. It raised its bony palm, a black ball of magical nastiness appearing as it reached back ready to strike. But it completely misjudged Vinnie’s erratic advance and the spinning staff smacked Alastor repeatedly in the skull. The Witherer dropped the nefarious, magical ball and staggered backward under the weight of Vinnie’s unorthodox assault.
Driven by his success, Vinnie threw his legs into the air trying a hail-mary-Kung-Fu kick, but without the technical know-how, or the skill, he just flew through the air like a flailing maniac and sailed straight past a bemused Alastor. Vinnie tumbled straight into Atrixa, upending her and sending her rolling into the undergrowth by the trail’s side. He turned, gasping, looking up as Alastor strode towards him.
Vinnie glanced desperately around for his staff but could not see it. He gulped. Alastor closed but stopped mid-stride, suddenly frozen.
“Oh bollocks,” the beast cursed, a certain resignation in its tone.
Alastor looked down at his bony feet. Vinnie looked down too. Black magic engulfed Alastor’s metatarsals, then wound around his tarsals, flowing up his fibulas then engulfing his cloak, clavicle, mandibles, and cranium. The magical black fog slowly swallowed the Witherer. If possible, a look of despair crossed his skull.
“Magical short-circuit,” Vinnie whispered realizing Alastor had stepped on his magical ball. The Witherer exploded, shattering into a million frozen shards of charred bone.
Congratulations! You have defeated a Witherer many times your level. How? That is the question. The Witherer was far too strong for you and should have crushed you like a bug. But, fair dues are due. The land awards you 5000 XP. Well, not that fair, the impossible should be rewarded more, but you know, times are hard, and you can’t just go handing out XP like you could a few years ago. I remember when you could go out with a few dozen XP in your pocket… I’m rambling now. Your current XP is 9300. You are 700 XP short of Level 6. At level 5 you have the attribute Compassion.
Pro Tip: Don’t forget to loot the corpse, wink, wink.
Pro Tip: Take a health potion before you collapse.
Loot! Vinnie thought and scrambled forward on all fours. He didn’t have to look too hard. There, right in the middle of a particularly large pile of Witherer bones, a silver shaft shone brightly. It had a black leather handle on one end and an evil-looking spiked ball on the other.
Loot! You have gained a Morningstar mace. Sometimes a sword just doesn’t cut the mustard. Sometimes you need that extra bit of oomph. Enter the Silver Spiked Morningstar Mace. Designed with your comfort in mind, the Morningstar has a double-wrapped leather handle, sleek, ergonomic 31” sterling silver shaft topped with our very best heavy impact ball adorned with luxurious 2 ½” spikes for your foe-destroying pleasure.
The Morningstar comes complete with a handy carrying case available in indigo blue or forester’s green.
The Morningstar, a mace for all the family.
Cool, Vinnie thought, looking around but not finding the promised carrying case, then collapsing in a jabbering heap as his health sunk one notch too far. He called for his health potion, dribbling it into his mouth just before he passed out.
Chapter Eighteen
He woke with his knees bent up and his heels tucked into his butt—the bed stupidly short, though what the bed lacked in length, it certainly made up for in width. He stretched his arms out and yawned, a peculiar smell flowing into his lungs. It was a mix of stale ale, sweat, farts, earth, and metal; there was a definite metallic tang.
Atrixa stared down at him. “You’ve got to stop doing that,” she scolded, but her eyes held no anger.
“What?”
“Forgetting your health potions. How on earth did you defeat the Witherer?”
“Didn’t you see?”
She shook her head. “After you barged into me and knocked me over I rolled into a tree on the bank of the river. I couldn’t turn, every muscle was locked solid. So spill, how did you do it? No one saw.”
“No one?” Vinnie enquired, raising an interested eyebrow.
“We were all paralyzed, and all fell.”
“So absolutely no one saw the battle.” Vinnie wanted to be sure.
“Not a single soul.”
Vinnie swung his legs off the short fat bed, his feet hitting the floor about a f
oot before he expected them to and shoving his knees up awkwardly. “Well, it went like this—”
It could have been a monumental moment for Vinnie, one where he told the truth about his ineptness and the fluke of his victory, instead it fizzled into his usual pack of embellished lies he would often recant when telling his fellow band members about his sexual exploits, but at least this time he actually thought about telling the truth.
“— and that’s how it went,” he ended with a flourish of his hand, a little like a flowery salute.
“So you battled him with your staff, beat him into submission, and only when he begged and sobbed, only then did you consider letting him off? Oh, Vinnie…”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Vinnie.”
Vinnie’s heart quickened. Mini Vinnie stirred.
“Oh Vinnie, you’re so full of shit. I lied too. I saw the whole thing.”
His heart sank. His bid to impress the alluring half-elf undone, but just when he thought he’d blown it with Atrixa, she burst out laughing. “No wonder you made up that story. It was a ridiculous victory, and epic fluke, the best I’ve ever seen.” She clapped and leaned close. “Keep with the made up story though. The dwarves think you’re a true hero, that’s why they let us in.”
“In?” Vinnie asked, but realization dawned before Atrixa answered. Short fat bed, low ceiling, high floor, no, not high floor—short bed legs, that was it. The smell of metal pervading all. “Are we in their tin mine?”
“Their little village at the bottom of its hill. Look, Vinnie, you must stick with that story, it’s important.”
Vinnie furrowed his brow and made his serious face. “I thought it would be, that’s why I practiced it on you,” he said, and then winked, knowing his lie had already failed. “I got a cool mace for it.” He pulled out his Grand Sack of Holding and called for Morningstar. When it didn’t come, he pulled out his other sack and called again. This time, it appeared in his hand. “It’s a bit sharp for a blunt weapon, will it still count?”
“It’s a class of weapon, so yeah.” Atrixa took it, running her fingers along it. “You’ve picked quite the brutal skill and yet I sense you are soft at heart, even gentle. I hope, Vinnie, that this land doesn’t corrupt you. Now,” she handed him back the mace, “you’ve leveled up. Allocate your points, and we’ll go and get breakfast. Remember, keep the lie going.”
“Why’s it so important?”
“You destroyed a Witherer—you’re all powerful, all important now. The dwarves are going to take us to the Wanton Witch the easy way.”
“How?”
“Underground,” she whispered. “Through caverns and caves.” She grasped his knee. “If Sivatious didn’t know you already, he knows you now. We need to get you to the Wanton Witch as fast as we can.”
“Just what the fuck and who the fuck is this Sivatious?” Vinnie was fed up to the back teeth with hearing about him.
Atrixa looked around, scanning the room. Fear immediately gripped Vinnie. She began. “He’s a blackened soul. Some say he sold his soul to the goblins in return for his prestige system. A system so terrible, so dire, that they’ve twisted his body and turned his mind.” She squeezed, harder. He became, harder. “They say he’s insane, Vinnie, insane and the most powerful in the land.”
Vinnie imagined a mad evil eye, a glowing, blood-red orb atop a crooked staff. He saw Sivatious in his mind. Her hand brushed away her stray bangs, and he gazed into her bottomless, blue eyes. “Sivatious bad,” he mumbled.
“Very bad, Vinnie. Now, allocate your points and let’s get some food. Sorrell will eat it all up if we don’t get there soon.”
Vinnie brought up his attribute sheet. His priority was to get his perception over four so that he could alter his status with Sorrell and Atrixa. One point there would get him to 4.5 with the esteem modifier. He allocated that point.
Intelligence and mana were no longer important to him as it didn’t look likely that he’d fill his Little Book of Spells any time soon, and he thought he had enough to cover any invisibility requirements. However, he was sure there was one other use for mana. Though he hadn’t noticed at the time, he was fairly positive that when he had his ring engaged, as it were, and his todger glowed gold and sparkly, that it used mana too. He didn’t know at what rate though.
“Can I leave a point unallocated?”
Atrixa considered it. “Why would you want to? Just put them into health or stamina and be done.”
“I put one into perception so that I could do this.”
You have altered your status with Atrixa. You have changed it from 0, indifferent, to 5, super friendly.
She threw her arms around him. “You bloody fool Vinnie. You need health or stamina—”
“Or friends,” he said. “So, compassion, eh?”
Pro Tip: Compassion is a powerful attribute in XdCeX Online. Concern for the misfortune of others, warmheartedness, tolerance, and kindness, go a long way to making you more attractive to those all around you. Think of compassion like charisma. High compassion combined with decent esteem will make you irresistible. Compassion is one of the most undervalued attributes in XdCeX Online, just not fashionable with you rich types.
“Few folks bother with it,” Atrixa replied.
Vinnie fancied it though. He had a funny feeling. For him, it was like life. Get strong; there was always someone stronger. Why not try a different angle? Why be worn down by going the same way as everyone else? He hesitated, unsure, with three choices available; another in perception, one to mana, or try compassion.
“Don’t be a sheep, Vinnie.” He allocated the point.
Attribute (Value x Esteem modifier = True Value)
Health: 2 x 1.5 = 3
Stamina: 3 x 1.5 = 4.5
Strength: 2 x 1.5 = 3
Agility: 3 x 1.5 = 4.5
Intelligence: 6 x 1.5 = 9
Mana: 60 x 1.5 = 90
Virility [Cumulative True Value]: 6.75 x 1.5 = 10.12
Perception: 3 x 1.5 = 4.5
Compassion: 1 x 1.5 = 1.5
Atrixa pulled away from him. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
Vinnie heard the words, but he’d become mesmerized. Atrixa had a white aura surrounding her. She radiated goodness. He wanted to give her something, to tell her how much he liked her. The feeling grew and intensified. At first, he wondered what the hell he had done, but the feeling stabilized, and her aura faded a little.
He could only surmise that his perception and compassion were now working hand in hand and that he could tell Atrixa was essentially good, and that she deserved his compassion. “All that from one point,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you on about?” Atrixa pulled him up.
“Oh, nothing. I thought I’d try something different, but you know, probably go back on the health and stamina trail soon.”
“Let’s go get some food.”
When she opened the door to the little hut, Vinnie’s jaw dropped.
He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to see, possibly an idyllic valley, a halfling-like vale or a lakeside retreat. What he didn’t expect to see was wet, black mud, churned by countless carts, or near naked, filthy dwarven kids reeking havoc all around. He didn’t expect to see cottages patched up or skins thrown over shambolic roofs to keep the rain off.
“Guess you didn’t know they gave you the best hut,” Atrixa said grimly, her voice matching the scene outside. “The dwarves haven’t had it good for a while.”
“Why not?”
“Hobgoblins mostly.”
“Hobgoblins?”
“Sivatious’s henchmen, they marshal the goblins, the drows, the ogres, trolls, and orcs to their bidding. The hobgoblin whips crack on bent backs as the miners deep beneath the Twin Mountains pillage the earth of its precious metals, every hour, of every day and every night. Sivatious floods the market with it, driving down the price. The dwarves barely make their ale needs for a day, let alone luxuries like food and clothing.”
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“Sounds grim.” Exactly how it looked.
They squelched out into the dire scene. The light and dusty rain had returned with the morning, the ever-present clouds above and gloom filling the air. They marched through the tumbledown village, and Vinnie started to notice how happy everyone was despite everything. Even so, his heartstrings tugged.
They came to a larger hut constructed from palisade walls with a thick thatched roof on top of it. It looked way out of place, far too well maintained, and busy with bursts of throaty laughter emanating, the mouthwatering smell of roasting meat floating towards them.
Gorbon stood as they walked in and rushed over to greet them. “Are yea rested, Vinnie me man? Come, come, there are plenty of tables. Now, what’s yer poison? We’ve got mornin’ ale or last night’s evening ale, which would yea prefer?”
He looked heartily happy and guided them to one of two central long-tables, packed each side with two rows of upturned faces staring at him. The lively conversation petered out. They looked at him expectantly.
Gorbon nudged him. “I think they want a tale or two.”
“Tell them how you defeated the Witherer,” Atrixa whispered in his ear. “The same story you told me.”
“The morning ale,” Vinnie told Gorbon. “And keep it coming.”
Unbeknown to Vinnie, he was quite the orator. He told a tale of derring-do, a story of an epic battle between good and evil, where the light vanquished the dark, where good souls triumphed and evil ones despaired. He showed them his Morningstar, waving it menacingly in the air, and promised that evil would cower before him.
The morning ale flowed. Vinnie was fed cigarillos. All the dwarves banged on the table, chanting for more.
“Shall I tell them about my cock?” Vinnie hissed at Atrixa, unwilling to step out of the limelight just yet.
