Shavari could sulk if that’s what it took for Devon to save her city.
She turned back to Perlda. “How many felsen fighters can you bring? And how many of you can speak to your ancestors?”
Perlda spoke in a flat voice. “There are thirty of us of fighting age. As for who can commune, only three of us have the talent.”
Only thirty? Devon was careful not to let her disappointment show. “Are you able to predict what aid we might receive from your ancestors? Providing they agree to help, I mean.”
Perlda’s knuckles were white where she squeezed her staff, and her voice trembled faintly when she spoke. “The last time we worked any appreciable magic was in the years of my great-grandmother three times over. I fear the attempt will do more harm than good.”
Devon took a deep breath. The woman was naturally stubborn, and it had shown in her early objections. But now that she realized Devon wouldn’t back down from the request, her fear made her honest. Tampering with the ancestor magic could be dangerous. Devon had personally been on the receiving end of malicious pranks by the felsen poltergeists, the spirits having turned spiteful after being forced into the role for so long.
But Devon had an advantage she’d been ignoring lately. She’d been playing the game extra carefully for fear she might let her followers down or get them killed. Her caution had kept her from taking advantage of an edge that the game had handed her the first few days of play.
Stalking around the table, she came to a halt beside Perlda. Devon opened her character sheet and glanced at the special attributes section.
Bravery: 10 (+3 Stonehaven Jerkin)
Cunning: 7
When she heard her awareness over the Bravery attribute, a tooltip popped up.
Grants an additional chance of success against foes or situations that would otherwise be too difficult for your level.
Way back when she’d started her journey through Relic Online, her Bravery score had given her the necessary edge to defeat an ogre she otherwise wouldn’t have been able to scratch. Well, Bravery and Cunning put together with a bit of help from a special skill, Improvisation. Few players had these special statistics, probably because they were too unbalanced. But not only had Devon received them as rewards for her unique play style, she had also received the ability to convey some of the benefits to her followers.
She laid a hand on Perlda’s skinny shoulder and met the woman’s eyes. “Your ancient kin will listen to you. They will follow your commands if you give them in my name.”
Devon almost felt the courage surge through her hand and into Perlda’s body.
Your follower has received a special attribute point: +1 Bravery.
Seriously, it won’t always be that easy. Typically, you transfer advantages to your followers by serving as an example, not by touching them and hoping for something to happen.
But she was being an annoying wusscake, so you got a bonus this time.
Dismissing the message, Devon wondered how she could have neglected the advantage for so long. But as resolve replaced the dismayed scowl on Perlda’s face, she forced herself to stop regretting missed opportunities. All that mattered now was the future.
She turned back to face the group.
“Shavari,” she said, prompting the woman to jerk in surprise.
“Yes…Keeper?” the woman said with obvious reluctance.
Devon ignored her hesitation and plowed on. “I need to know more about the Veian Temple here in the city. Every benefit it provides us. Will you please investigate?”
“I—much of what my order teaches may not apply to such an ancient structure.”
“But you are still the most qualified. Please take the next few days to investigate and report back with a list of capabilities. I want to know about any spells we can activate, any passive defense beyond the Ishildar’s Blessing effect.” Devon glanced toward the upper corner of her interface where the buff granting added Damage and Accuracy vs. demons had been a permanent fixture since she’d taken command of the city and cleared the debris from the temple.
Shavari held Devon’s gaze for a moment, long enough that Devon glanced through her interface to find her reputation score with the woman—145, just on the lower end of Friendly. Shavari hadn’t sworn a formal oath, which would have probably boosted her score into the Staunch Ally range and eliminated this little power struggle. But now didn’t seem the time to ask for that kind of promise.
“You’ll have my report as soon as I believe I’ve made a thorough investigation,” the woman said at last.
Devon nodded. That was about the best response she could hope for considering Shavari’s mood. But the missed chance to secure the woman’s absolute loyalty by swearing an oath reminded her of something she’d been procrastinating. She turned to her paladin friend, Torald, and another player she’d invited to join the council, a druid named Magda. “I’ve been putting off the ceremony you guys need to complete your quest for way too long.” Apparently, the players were supposed to formally swear fealty to her as Keeper of Ishildar to receive the reward at the end of a long quest line. Devon was seriously dreading the process. A bunch of players kneeling before her, probably role-playing out the whole thing? It was like a nightmare for someone who typically avoided human interaction. But she was going to have to suck it up and take every advantage she could get.
Torald shrugged. “To be fair, you’ve had a horde of demons to contend with.”
“Yeah, but it sucks to be stuck one step away from completing an epic quest. I’ll make time this afternoon. Should I come to your camp?”
Torald averted his eyes when he answered. “Actually, some of us have drawn up a plan for the ceremony. We’ve worked with the town woodcarvers…we were planning to unveil your throne once Ishildar was restored, but the demons kinda put some kinks in the plan.”
Oh hell. A throne? She sighed. “And where, exactly, were you planning to hold the ceremony then?”
“Your chambers in the inner keep. We have—”
Torald swallowed his words when a series of nails-on-chalkboard screeches pierced the echoing silence of the hall. He jumped to his feet, yanking out his sword as thumps followed the squeals and something blocked the light from one of the entrance archways.
Devon jumped back and summoned a Glowing Orb, throwing it at the wall before shoving mana into an insta-cast Shadow Puppet.
Footsteps clicked against the floor, a large shadow moving through the forest of pillars that supported the high vaults in the ceiling.
The benches emptied as combat-class players and NPCs prepared for a fight, and the representatives of Stonehaven’s tradespeople hurried to huddle behind the fighters.
“Hail, Keeper,” a deep voice called.
Devon hesitated, interrupting the casting process for the Wall of Ice she’d intended to slam down between the intruders and the council table. “Uh. Hail?”
The clicking footsteps pressed closer. Devon held her breath.
A piercing cry shook the hall as a griffon paced into view, the talons on its front legs tapping against the marble floor, leonine hind legs padding silently. The beast spread its wings wide in a space between pillars, the feathered limbs spanning at least twenty feet.
“What the…?” Hailey muttered.
Astride a saddle fastened to the griffon’s back, a bare-chested man raised a hand in greeting. Long, flowing hair fell beyond his shoulders like a fricking mane, the tips bleached by the sun. Devon blushed when she saw he was wearing just a loincloth. And…had he rubbed himself down with oil or something? Why were his muscles so shiny?
“My liege lady. Heroine of Ishildar. Your light shines after centuries of darkness, and I have come to bask in it.”
“Holy shit. It’s Fabio,” Jeremy, her troubadour friend, said in a false whisper.
Chen snorted, his little stick golem pressing the back of its hand to its forehead before collapsing in a swoon.
Devon stammered. Her face burned with embarrassment over having a nearly naked dude giving Torald a run for the most ridiculous praise possible.
“Uh. So I guess the Skevalli griffon keepers didn’t vanish after all?”
The man leapt from his mount, landing on the marble floor in a cat-like crouch. He stood slowly, long muscles working in his thighs. He stared at her from beneath lowered brows.
When he opened his mouth and actually kind of…growled at her, Jeremy literally collapsed on the floor, hooting with laughter.
“I have come to place myself in your service. Any need you might have, I will satisfy it, my liege. This is my promise.”
The griffon opened its beak and gave a keening screech as the man tilted his head to look at her from beneath lowered brows. His best attempt at a burning stare, she gathered.
Devon swallowed. Just…great.
Chapter Five
OKAY, WELL, SO much for laying out a comprehensive battle plan and setting her minions marching out to conquer the demon horde. After Fabio’s arrival, Devon’s composure had been totally shot. Like, babbling-idiot, why-the-hell-did-the-game-decide-to-create-that-kind-of-NPC shot. Even after she’d told the half-nude dude to take a seat at the table, hiding his way-too-skimpy loincloth from view, he’d continued to alternate between staring at her adoringly and growling low in his throat.
Totally, completely, not what she was looking for in a VR game. Her friends knew it, and Tarzan—his other new nickname—had created more entertainment than they’d enjoyed in months, judging by their reactions anyway. Even Owen had been forced to leave the table and step outside so that he didn’t destroy his sensei/prophet/Yoda image by laughing.
Anyway, the guy’s name wasn’t Fabio. It was Prince Kenjan, and he was heir to the Skevalli Vassaldom. And yes, it did appear that he’d oiled his skin, because he’d also brought her a flask of the stuff, claiming it was a rare extract from a nut that grew only in crevices high up the walls of gorges in the Skargill Mountains. +2 Speed, apparently, but only if the user had greater than 60% exposed skin.
In other news, Veia was an asshole.
And Devon had already regifted the nut oil to Dorden. Not that she wanted to see a bunch of hairy dwarves streaking around wearing nothing but their beards, but the Stoneshoulders seemed most likely to appreciate the gift, if only because their short legs made their natural movement rate lower than the average human’s.
Back in Stonehaven, having cut the meeting short, she was hiding in a back room in the lower level of the keep, collecting her wits and making notes so that the next meeting would stick to the agenda. Prince Kenjan had lifted off on his mount, claiming that he needed to feel the wind in his hair at least a few times a day, while everyone else had set about the business of fortifying and no doubt wondering what the hell they were going to do about the demon army.
Devon sighed and bent over the parchment she’d stolen from Greel’s little office on the lower level of the keep. Her notes so far weren’t all that useful.
-Felsen fighters: Only 30 smurfs…enough for a raid on Gargamel and Azrael maybe. Otherwise?? See if they can make more blowdart poison for Stonehaven’s archers? Wait, does poison even work against demons?
- Felsen ancestors: 3 shamans. How many poltergeists can each spawn? Hoping one thousand million. Harass demon army from behind. Distract them with ghost lights and sounds. Steal their weapons and stuff. Also, haunt them so they get stuck in combat and can’t regen health.
- Hazel: Apprentice more scouts. We have to find out why Ishildar matters. Won’t happen if I keep wasting time sending random and unqualified search parties.
- Shavari = investigating Temple. What else? Figure out if it’s worth improving Reputation with her.
- Greel: Ugh. Ask him to search through the libraries and records for anything we can use. Even if he gloats and acts self-important.
She dipped her quill into the ink and mentally ran through her list of allies. The corvids were great scouts. The awakening stones had also granted trickster-type powers to many of them. Some could read minds, while others could plant notions in people’s heads. A few preferred to work their magic by imbuing shiny objects with the power to charm a person into performing a task for the bird. That kind of creeped Devon out, but it could also be useful if the demons were susceptible.
Windsteeds had an innate ability to sense the other members of their herd, which made for good coordination of mounted unit movements over distance, but it required the riders to blindly trust the horses unless they had a Tier 2 skill in Animal Communication. Right now, her only followers who had that were Hazel due to her Tamer-class proficiencies and Greel because he spent so much time talking to his chickens.
Leaving the awakened races for later, she bent over the paper and scratched down notes for the remaining groups of followers.
-Jarleck: Fill the moat. Supervise the wall extension for refugees. Investigate added fortifications for Ishildar.
-Mistwalkers: Figure out which Esh can train players in new skills and spells.
-Hailey: Can her True Sight ability help figure out the source of the earthquakes? Like, can it look underground for stuff or is it just good for inspecting mobs?
- Players: Form up into raid groups w/ Esh. Power level! (Can we bring other player groups in? Is there a route into Ishildar that doesn’t go through the demons? Ask Hezbek.)
-Oh yeah…what about the NPC trainers? See if they can level past 20 (and train skills past that).
Devon stopped writing and stared at the last item. That was the real issue—aside from whichever mystery benefits Ishildar might still grant her. She needed a bigger army, and she needed them to be as high level as possible. ASAP. But now that Ishildar was restored, bringing peace to the immediate surroundings, where would they find the enemies they needed to grind out experience?
Raids against the demon force might do it, and they’d have the bonus of reducing the size of the horde, but they were also risky because attacks would require dropping the barrier long enough for a Stonehaven force to pass through.
There was really only one region near Ishildar that she hadn’t explored—the maze of chasms and gorges that cut through sheer stone and made the Skargill Mountains nearly impassable. And someone who apparently knew that area quite well had just arrived to put himself at her disposal.
Devon sighed as she scratched a final line onto her notes.
-Ask Fabio for info on Skargill XP opportunities.
A chime and a flashing notification at the edge of her vision made her jerk before she remembered she’d set the alarm herself. Time for her daily training session with Aijal. She yawned and blinked the grit from her eyes, muscles aching as she stood. Just a few in-game hours into her play session, and already her Fatigue was at 60%. On the way to her beating at the hands of the Shadow Master, she’d have to pick up a Savanna Energy Tonic from Hezbek.
Leading the forces of good against the army of darkness was hard fricking work.
***
Devon just barely avoided Aijal’s attack, the blunted lance passing a centimeter from her ribs. Landing awkwardly after her quick sidestep, she nonetheless tried to strike with a quick slice of her dagger, the weapon catching nothing but mist as the Esh turned insubstantial.
Overbalanced, Devon couldn’t recover when her toe caught on an acacia tree root. She managed to get her shoulder tucked to convert the fall into a roll rather than a face plant, but the mistake still left her vulnerable. Aijal’s lance stabbed down beside her ear, vibrating the soil beneath the back of Devon’s head. The Mistwalker’s raised eyebrow made it clear that she hadn’t missed by accident.
Devon lay there for a moment to catch her breath, and then pulled open her character sheet. She selected the option to show any values that had changed during the last day of playtime.
Skills:
Dodge: 5 (+2)
Riposte: 2 (+1)
One-Handed Slashing: 15
(+1)
Combat Forms:
Shadow Shifter - Tier 1: 30% Mastery (+5%)
Abilities:
Downdraft - Tier 1: 43% Mastery (+1%)
Backstab - Tier 1: 67% Mastery (+12%)
Aijal held out a hand to help her up. As Devon climbed to her feet, she kept her eyes off the Shadow Master’s face. It was kind of embarrassing to get so thoroughly trounced every sparring session. In every other game she’d played, the best way to learn her class had been to go out and fight mobs, improving her play skill at the same time that her character statistics improved. But she had a settlement to run and an army to build, not to mention a couple of unique classes played by no one else in the game.
The other problem was the lack of mobs—the same problem that made it hard for her to order her army to power level.
Among the players in the camp, the practice of sparring to raise skills was common. Devon had even been talked into a match against Torald—a somewhat embarrassing memory she didn’t like to relive. But the other players had pretty much maxed out the progress they could make play-fighting each other. For them, further advancement required real enemies.
Devon, on the other hand, had just gained a class specialization for which she had some major skill holes. A Shadowcaster extended the spell repertoire of a Sorcerer and the illusion and trickery of a Deceiver, but it brought its own flair, some of which was melee-based. Devon hadn’t spent much time going toe-to-toe with enemies, and it showed.
And just Devon’s luck, it usually showed most right when an audience arrived to witness her incompetence.
“Hey Hailey,” she said as her friend stepped into the shade of the acacia tree where Devon and Aijal had been sparring.
Throne of the Ancients: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 6) Page 4
