by Mars Dorian
Rewards: 3000 credits, cont. experience, one special item
“Three thousand credits?”
“With the Syndicate’s defeat, the influence of our movement has grown,” Caspian said. “More and more citizens want to join our path and learn about the continent’s spiritual past.” Celeste finished his sentences. “Fortunately, some of our new followers are generous donors to our cause, which allows us to expand and pay for special services.”
“Money and religion,” Rokkit said with a knowing smile. “United until death.”
I ignored him and accepted the quest offer, since this was my private game and both L’ocean and Rokkit had agreed to join my session.
Caspian and Celeste gleamed. “Marvelous. We shall leave very soon. Please wait until our caravan is ready to depart.”
They joined a gathering of pilgrims who prepped their equipment. Dozens of fowls, some working animals packed with piles of bags and wagons, stood nearby.
“Another boring-ass convoy quest,” Rokkit said with slumped shoulders.
“At least the payment’s good. Plus, we’ll increase the affiliation between the pilgrims and the Blue Flame. Think about the bigger picture.”
“I’m always thinking about the bigger picture, Boltzmann. Watch my streams and you’ll know what I mean.”
I had totally forgotten that I wasn’t the only aspiring pro player in the team. Rokkit and L’ocean both streamed their sessions online. I had never watched a single minute, but according to the gossip in the community, both were taking names, especially Rokkit. He had built his entire online brand on being the snarky alpha male predator controlling the Lancer class. I wondered if he followed similar monetary goals like me, or simply played for fame and fun.
Rokkit grinned on auto-pilot. “Truth is, my stream is bigger than yours.”
“Not for long,” I said and prepared myself for the protection of the convoy.
3
The pilgrims and travelers readied the caravan. I counted four wagons, a dozen fowls wrapped in decorative gear, and a bigger creature I hadn’t seen before. The beast looked like the radiation poisoned child of an elephant and an ogre.
“That’s a bulkor,” L’ocean said, channeling the in-game info section. “They’re big, cumbersome, and stronger than three bulls.”
“Dangerous?”
“Not if they’re tamed. They’re incredibly useful working animals. I’ve seen some high-level players using them instead of fowls.”
“They look too slow for rides.”
Rokkit pushed himself into the conversation. “But they pack a punch. Imagine going full cavalry and crushing one of those suckers into the enemy ranks—brutal damage.”
Celeste approached me with her palms open. “We’re ready to depart, Dash.”
“Got it. We’ll mount up and guard the rear.”
“We look forward to your mind and muscle power.”
She ran back to her people and signaled the caravan leader—a fowl rider—to gallop up ahead. L’ocean, Rokkit, and I mounted our fowls and followed the caravan as it left the Holiplaza. Dozens of NPCs waved goodbye and wished us good luck—some even shouted my name.
“You’re a real local celebrity,” Rokkit said from his fowl and flashed his trademark grin.
“One more price reduction reward and you can buy the whole place.” He threw a dismissive glance at the canyon site. “Begs the question—why would anyone buy this dusty piece of crap?”
There was no point to his ranting, so I ignored him. While we traveled to the main road, I reflected on my current player status.
I was still a Level 14 WarTech. The next tier of abilities awaited me at Level 15. Level 20 would mark the milestone where I had all basic class-specific skills unlocked. After that, I could focus on strengthening my core skills and move toward becoming the most proficient WarTech the gaming world had ever seen. Even farther down the line, I could pick a specialization, making my WarTech a one-man army. Good times ahead.
Our caravan reached the Hope Road leading to the liberated Varmegarden. A wiggly red line updated on the map section of my e-scroll showing that 98% of the distance lay before us. Something told me that the new journey would entail more danger than the last time. With the slow caravan snoring across the broad road, I had enough time to scope out the far distance. Since I didn’t possess the Insight skill as Rangers did, I had to use technical devices to extent my vision range. Back at the Cloudkiss village, I had bought a pair of Farvision goggles which increased my viewing range by fifteen percent. Nothing to brag about, but every upgrade helped out. During our journey, L’ocean used the peer-to-peer channel.
“Whatever happened during the Austin Game event? Did you find an agent?”
It was no secret that I aimed to make a full-time income from the game. Even Rokkit knew by now, having watched some of my commentary and streams online.
“I spoke to an agent called Susan Cohen who showed interest. She told me she only represented players level twenty-five and higher. I’m supposed to focus on my unique WarTech skills and engage in exciting quests to up my stream’s viewerships.”
Rokkit grinned. “In other words, she got rid of you in the most polite way possible.”
“I think she wants me to gain more experience first. I’ve got her number and can call her anytime, so yeah, she’s definitely expressed interest.”
“Sounds reasonable,” L’ocean said. “Only advanced players get access to the best skills, which allow them to participate in bigger and more newsworthy quests. It’s no coincidence that global stars like Holland Pax attract millions of viewers in the double-digits. His Lancer is beyond level fifty.”
“To hell with Pax,” Rokkit said from the other side of the caravan. “He’s a poser desperate for views.”
“Reminds me of certain someone.”
“I ain’t desperate, Dash. I just want to be the best Lancer Fourlando has ever seen.”
“What for? A pro game career?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Rokkit’s sky-high confidence surged. But despite his snark and grumbles, he was a trustworthy ally who knew his character build inside out. He had even saved my virtual life a couple times, so as long as his help surpassed his snark, I kept him along.
Our convoy reached seventeen percent of our path. More than eighty percent to go. Despite the harmonious winds of the Great Plains brushing our way, my eyes stayed on high alert. I spotted no Reepo particles and no signs of infection, endless plains and green prairies.
I matched my fowl to the snail-pace of the caravan and let myself gaze travel around the distance. On the far horizon, dots appeared. Even with my specialized goggles on, I only recognized dark silhouettes. Maybe I should have asked a Ranger to join our quest. Their vision range could probably spot surface patterns on the Violet Lunar. L’ocean told me you could buy NPC mercenaries who compensated for missing co-players, but they cost a lot. Way too much for a simple protection quest, so we three had to suffice.
The dots on the horizon grew into an entourage of riders.
“Trouble’s coming from the east,” I informed the caravan. My worries turned into reality. Almost two dozen armored fowls shot toward our direction.
Enemy: Bandit Landraider
Type: Human fowl rider
HP: Rider 1075, fowl: 645
Weakness: Armor-pierce
Drops: Tekbows, Spikers, Smokers
I swung my gunblade and took aim. With no stabilizer at hand, my aim was wonky. I needed to get closer to the raiders to land a shot. Both Rokkit and L’ocean joined me to the shouts of “Incoming.”
Arrows ran down from the sky. Most missed me and my co-players, but a couple pierced the plates of the wagons and caused minimal damage.
Quest update:
▪Protect all 4 wagons
▪Ensure the survival of all 24 travelers
The HP bar of every wagon in the convoy updated. Thankfully, no arrow had a fire or explosiv
e element, which meant the riders wanted to steal the goods.
Yeah, not gonna happen.
Rokkit yelled. “You intercept those suckers, I stay close to the caravan. My build is too big for prairie speed chases.”
His massive armor did look cumbersome, especially on a slender fowl. Rokkit needed to ride on a bulkor.
“Let’s go, L’ocean.”
We shot into the open prairie to meet the raiders half-way. Thirteen in total, screaming their lungs out while brandishing enhanced sabers or aiming their tekbows.
I squeezed the trigger of my gunblade and fired a pellet. The projectile missed the target and whooshed into the horizon. I needed to reload, which cost valuable time. “Let me try,” L’ocean said. She casted a crowd control-type effect called Reepulse that overheated a radius of a dozen meters. The heatwave caused little damage but delivered pushback, which was deadly for the riders. Three fell from their fowls and kissed the dirt with their ugly-ass faces, but the other raiders spread out to escape the area damage.
I launched a new pellet from my gunblade and finally hit the nearest rider, but the attack only blasted away about a fifth of his total health.
I needed to change my tactics. I used my trusted secondary weapon—the harpoon gun glove+1—and took aim at the nearest bandit rider. According to the analyzer, my excess weight surpassed his, which meant I could pull the sucker toward me. I harpooned the plate of the bandit and pierced his armor. The damage amounted to fourteen percent of his health, but more importantly, it chained him to me. I ordered my fowl to sprint into the opposite direction and pulled the chain with all my might. Thanks to my armor weight, I ripped the bandit from his fowl. The second his body impacted the ground, his health dropped in half, thanks to the smash damage. I fired up my fowl and pulled the sucker across the prairie, dwindling his HP by the seconds. High damage per second deluxe. When the raider died, I retracted the harpoon until its chain curled up in my arm glove with an ear-pleasing clunk.
I gotta admit, that was by far the coolest kill I had unleashed in the game so far. Unfortunately, no one was around to see it, except the online viewers.
A deep, male voice hammered my comm. “Boltzmann, stop posing and return to the caravan.”
My glance rotated toward Rokkit’s direction. My obsession with landing the perfect kill had distracted me from the mission goal. More than half of the land raiders had escaped my and L’ocean’s flank and sprinted toward the least protected wagons of the caravan. The raiders aimed for the unarmed pilgrims, ready to strike at will.
Not gonna happen, part two.
Back at the convoy, Rokkit greeted the incoming raiders with a full swing of his enhanced polearm. I had never seen him using that weapon before, but he wielded it like a master. He pushed forward and impaled a raider before he kicked him off his fowl. The critical damage was insane, around twice the normal amount. But Rokkit’s moves looked slow and cumbersome. A couple of enemies darted for the unprotected caravan riders which I had to protect at all costs. L’ocean and I joined forces again and roared our fowls toward the raiders who didn’t get their ass kicked by Rokkit.
In mid-run, I aimed my gunblade.
“No, you could hit the caravan,” L’ocean warned me.
“The pilgrims are about to get heir heads sliced off.”
I unleashed another pellet. This time, I actually hit a land raider right in the back plate. Not enough to push him off, but I sliced off thirty-eight percent of his health. He moaned and turned around to face me. I traded the old gunblade for my new BlitzBlade with the advanced damage, chose a horizontal attack, and separated the bandit’s ugly face from his neck. A blood fountain launched and splashed droplets against the wagons.
No PG rating from me.
Two more raiders stormed after me when I entered the close range perimeter of the caravan that kept on moving in slow motion.
Rokkit was busy dealing with two raiders at the same time. I used my harpoon, impaled the nearest enemy, and pulled him from his armored fowl. His HP dropped in half as the damaged body ground the soil. I hit my fowl, increasing its speed, and ran over the raider. Fowl legs stomped the bandit meat like a pizza dough.
Instant death guaranteed.
“You’re a beast,” L’ocean said in the middle of a cast. “Let’s make you a beastmaster.”
The particles from the Reepo crystal in her staff encircled me and boosted my damage by fifteen percent and my attack speed by twenty-five percent. The cast lasted only for twenty seconds, so I got busy finishing off the raiders. With a Lancer like Rokkit by my side, we sent the final two raiders into digital nirvana. Rokkit activated a skill that unleashed four to five pole arm jabs. Each one did relatively little damage to the enemy other than piercing his armor. He dashed forward and went full impaler again. I averted my eyes and focused on the deserting raider. He stormed away from our caravan but I wasn’t going to miss any experience points.
“I’ll get the coward.”
Since he was out in the open, I could use my explodas without fear of hurting the caravan with my area damage. I snapped a circle-shaped ball from my multi-tool belt, aimed the explosive with the target pointers of my HUD, and threw the bastard. The device hit the ground next to the fleeing raider, but thanks to the area damage, he and his fowl collapsed. I curbed my speed and galloped toward the raider trying to push himself up from the soil. He had only twenty-four percent of his health left, but he was determined to fight until death. He stormed after me with a curved and spiked saber. “I’m gonna skin you alive.”
“Come get some.”
Eight meters closer to me, I simply switched to my old gunblade again and blew his head off. It exploded like a watermelon filled with dynamite and blew meat pieces into all wind directions.
Update: All 13 raiders have been eradicated.
Return to the caravan and guide it safely to the target zone.
I headed back to my co-players and adapted my fowl’s speed to the caravan again. Maybe I was seeing things, but I believed it moved faster than before, at least by ten to fifteen kilometers per hour. Or maybe the digital fear spurred them on to move faster.
Rokkit smiled at me. “Decent work, Boltzmann.”
“Thanks. Pretty good polearm moves you pulled out.”
“I’ve got five different primary weapons for almost any occasion: broadsword, engine blade, polearm, hammer, mech-axe… you name it.”
Not to forget a big-ass shield that protected him against long-range projectiles and light-to-medium melee weapon jabs. Rokkit’s Lancer build was the tankest of all tanks.
Meanwhile, L’ocean healed some of the NPC riders who received some minor damage during the raid. Unfortunately, three had died.
Update: 99% of the path reached.
We entered the Hope Road gate of the liberated Varmegarden. City guards checked every traveler and inspected their bags and rucksacks, probably for weapons. But when our posse arrived, they simply waved us in. Since we counted as the official liberators, our entrance fee was waived for a lifetime. We entered the sunny township like victors. Varmegarden looked even more stunning than last time with its exotic flowerbeds, crimson roof tiles, and orange-colored facades. Crisp smoke wafted from food stands. Locals wearing work clothes passed us by and cheered. Some even called our names as they remembered our deeds. The artificial intelligence of the NPCs astounded me. Just like in the real world, the folks acted as complex beings with astute memories.
It was good to be back.
Our convoy reached the Aeon dependency in a stone-plastered alleyway where a group of followers awaited us. All of them wore the same gowns, graced with the religion’s symbol of a stylized crystal. A high-priest moved toward us and separated the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. The woman had an extravagant pony-tail, wore a kimono-like garment, and half-bowed in front of me. “I am so glad you arrived unscathed.”
Update. You have successfully protected the convoy. All 4 wagons have survived the attacks.
Rewards: 3000 credits, Season’s Pass to all Aeon dependencies located in Norsefalia
“I’m sorry,” L’ocean said to the high-priestess. “Three didn’t make it.”
“Such is the will of the Aeons. We can only do our best and trust in the flow of the stream. Let us focus on those who survived, shall we?”
She whistled and waved over a couple of followers who took the crates and bags from the wagons and lugged them back inside the brick-layered dependency. Each pilgrim carried a crest symbol tattooed onto their foreheads which reminded me of the Violet Lunar.
“What will you do now?” I asked the high-priestess.
The holy woman focused on her followers carrying the crates inside and barked at a kid fumbling helplessly with a relic. When I bothered to ask her again, she turned her chiseled head toward me. “Organizing our expansion and battling the oppressor. We have to bring our fellow humans back to the light source.”
Her demanding eyes soaked me in. “To be exact, we will strengthen our presence in Varmegarden and introduce its locals to the spiritual history of Fourlando. We hope to replace the hostile rhetoric of the Syndicate with our message of unity.”
I didn’t know if replacing Syndicate rule with religious philosophy counted as the best alternative, but the followers had been kind to me and my co-players. Besides, Balzac believed in their cause. He deemed the group important enough to join the Blue Rebellion, so who was I to judge?
The high-priestess smiled for the first time since our encounter. “Please come back later—we will create our first museum near the central plaza. I am positive we will require your services in the near future.”
I nodded and turned around. L’ocean and Rokkit had disappeared from the spot. I found them via the group ping. Rokkit stood near a bakery and bought health enhancers in the form of baked goods.
