“Complaint number 14,347 has been reviewed. The non-player character was found to be acting within the bounds of his program. Player Euiikh has been denied his request.”
“He did that on purpose, the rat!” I tried to get in a complaint of my own. “He tried to confuse the admin. That’s the kind of person he is.”
Number Nineteen shook his head.
“All players have the right to lodge complaints, and we are required to promptly and impartially review them. Player Hagen, the help you have voluntarily and objectively provided in this matter deserves a reward from the administration. Would you like to receive one?”
I almost let out a sarcastic “of course not,” but decided against it. Number Nineteen could have taken that to be my answer.
“Obviously!”
Number Nineteen snapped his fingers.
You received a blessing: Left Hand of the Creator
+20% protection from fire
+20% protection from cold
+15% protection from mental effects
+20% vitality
+15% health restoration speed
+15% mana restoration speed
Active for one hour
“Wow!” I was impressed. “And that’s just the left hand! I wonder what the right hand is like.”
“If you don’t have any pertinent questions, I will leave.” Number Nineteen drew the meeting to a close.
“Thanks for the buff.” I decided to be polite. “And please unfreeze Gunther. I need his help with that witch.”
“He’ll wake up as soon as I leave. Have fun playing the game.”
And with that, Number Nineteen disappeared—you know, how the image on a TV screen disappears, bam, and it’s gone, just darkness and heat.
Gunther started.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“No, you just blinked. For a long time.” I reassured the nervous knight. “Ready to go?”
Off we went.
I really liked the local forest. Everything was open, there wasn’t any dead wood laying around, the terrain was flat, and we were left alone. We walked to the sound of birds chirping, the grass crunched under our feet, and we enjoyed the pleasant, fresh smell in the air.
“Sir Hagen, what else is in that book they wrote in the east?” I had apparently piqued Gunther’s interest.
“Well, there’s a lot,” I answered.
I needed to be careful. If I quoted it to him, I’d have to explain what a shogun was, what a kakemono was, and why samurais can’t lay down with their legs pointing toward their suzerain’s residence.
“Tell me a piece of wisdom they have.”
“If a samurai loses in battle and is about to die, he has to say his name proudly and die without doing anything that would humiliate him.” I had to think for a while, but I came up with something simple.
“Exactly. We’ve talked about that, too. I think I’ll definitely make a pilgrimage to the east. You aren’t going that way, are you?”
Again with the east. I had the feeling I was literally being pushed in that direction the whole day. Could it have been more than just a feeling? Maybe it was true.
A small house appeared behind the trees. It was neat and tidy, the roof was red, and it had white walls with green shutters. The clearing was charming. The sun gleamed down on it, and it was covered in flowers.
“Is that the witch’s den?” I stared at the house. “It can’t be!”
“Witches are tricky.” Gunther nodded his head. “Our eyes could be playing tricks on us, so don’t believe anything, Sir Hagen.”
I glanced at the house again and pulled up my map. We were standing in the very center of the red circle.
“Yes, this is the place,” I said to the knight. “Let’s go see what we can find.”
We walked out into the clearing and were greeted by an adorable old lady with white curls, a ruddy, wrinkled face, and a white apron. She was sitting on a bench knitting something that looked like a large stocking, and the whole picture could have been pulled from a Christmas card. Our footsteps caught her attention, and she looked up at us.
“Hello, noble knights!” Her voice was as pleasant as could be. “What brings you here?”
Chapter Fifteen
The Hunter and the Hunters (Part Two)
“No, I’m not a knight. He is, though,” I said, flicking my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m just a warrior.”
“Then what brings one knight and one warrior here?” The old lady continued knitting as she asked her question. For a second, I thought the ends of her needles flashed red.
“We’re looking for someone.” There was little sense hiding the truth. “A scary witch.”
“What do you mean, we’re looking for her?” Gunther cut in, having unslung his shield with his right hand. “She’s right in front of us! You can’t see her?”
“Of course I see her,” I said. “And she knows that we know. This is how the game works, Gunther.”
I took a few steps forward until there were no more than ten meters between the witch and me.
“It’s true,” she said, her needles clicking ever faster. “But you can still leave—no harm, no foul. I’m in a good mood, and my belly’s full, so you may be able to make it back to Fladridge in one piece.”
“But maybe not?” I asked.
“Maybe not,” she said with a shrug. “I’m in a good mood right now, but who knows how I’ll feel in another ten minutes? I’m a woman, and our mood is always changing.”
“You’re no woman!” Gunther’s outrage surged. “You aren’t even human! I should destroy you on the spot!”
“So we’re going to do this the hard way. Don’t say I didn’t tell you so,” she said in an even, controlled tone as she rose from her chair.
Above her head appeared an inscription written in blood-red letters.
Witch Frida
Level 26
She stretched out her hands to either side, each holding a needle, the tips of which glowed bright red.
“Time for your exercises, grandma?” I crouched and prepared for battle. “Let’s go—feet shoulder width apart!”
Frida, the witch, grinned ferociously, brought her hands together, and thrust them in Gunther’s direction. She shouted a spell in some gibberish language. It could have been Ancient Chaldean, or it could have been Hindi—I was none the wiser. Or maybe it was some kind of local dialect? Who knows?
Gunther may have been young, but he obviously had some experience under his belt; he very nearly ducked out of the way of the fireball hurtling toward him. Very nearly, but not quite. The fireball—a word that perfectly describes what the evil woman conjured up—glanced off his left side, and the shock wave threw him all the way back to the edge of the clearing. He smacked into a birch tree and collapsed, feet twitching. When he made no effort to get up, I realized he had been temporarily knocked out of our little game.
“A-ha!” Frida was apparently satisfied with her handiwork and turned toward me. “Now you and I can have some fun!”
“Aren’t you a bit old for that kind of thing, grandma? Besides, I’d prefer someone a bit younger and maybe a little more busty.”
“Oh, I won’t be enjoying you like that.” She nodded toward Gunther, whose head now twitched in time with his feet. “That one’s canned like a peach, and it’s a pain to claw him out of all that armor. Plus, knights like that are too stringy. But look at you: fresh, soft, juicy. I’ll have you for dinner with some roots and cabbage!”
The witch was obviously trying to keep me talking as she crept closer. Still, I maintained some distance between us. At the same time, she kept her needles spinning relentlessly in an effort to distract me.
The needles flashed, one with red lightning and the other white. I kept my attention firmly fixed on them and was ready. My knees were bent, and, realizing that the sizzle coming from them meant something bad was in the offing, I rolled forward. It didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted because my shield caught on
my jaw, but I sprang up much closer to Frida and swung my mace at her. She dodged, grazing my arm with one of her needles.
You are taking cold damage.
You will lose 0.8 health per second for three minutes!
This is really bad, I thought. Another couple of those, and I won’t have to worry about the merciless blows of evil—she’ll finish me off with her spells, even with my protection buff. If it weren’t for Euiikh and his stubborn orcishness, I’d really be in a pickle.
“Well, my dear not-a-knight, how do you like my needlework?” The old lady’s evil smile was playful as she toyed with me.
“You’ll knit me a scarf and hat later,” I said in the same tone, keeping one eye on her hands.
The old hag obviously knew her way around a fight, and we spent the next minute warily circling each other. It dawned on me that sooner or later, she would outwit me. Plus, eight-tenths of a health point may not seem like much, but I was losing a full 48 health a minute.
I was just about to attack when I heard a rumble and a shout. “In the name of the Tearful Goddess!” From somewhere off to the side, Gunther crashed into the witch, apparently having recovered from his stupor. The collision sent the hag flying sideways. Her needles clattered to the ground and, with a crunch, shattered under the knight’s iron-clad feet.
Gunther landed two blows that luckily left the witch stunned. They had some heft behind them, too; her health turned yellow. After a second, she realized something was wrong and quickly figured it out with a screech.
“My needles! You broke them!”
The witch sprang backward, avoiding yet another crushing blow from Gunther, and screeched out what was apparently a powerful spell. Lightning sprang from her hands and pierced the knight.
The witch snarled, lightning pulsed, and Gunther shook as if he were sitting in an electric chair. It struck me how much she looked like Emperor Palpatine—all she needed was a hood.
“My needles!” Frida shrieked crazily. “They’ve been in my family for centuries, handed down from mother to daughter for generations. My sister is going to kill me!”
Gunther shook with more violence, and his head swung lifelessly from side to side. I felt rage pulse through my veins.
“Kill the Sith!” I roared, throwing my shield to the side and gripping my mace with two hands. I ran at the witch and sank my weapon into her head with every bit of strength I could muster.
She stopped her electrical roasting of the knight and tried to wrap her claws around my throat, spitting out one spell after another.
You are taking cold damage.
You will lose 1.3 health per second for two minutes!
You are taking grave horror damage.
You will lose 0.5 health per second for three minutes!
You are taking fire damage.
You will lose 1 health per second for three minutes!
Ignoring the stream of messages, I evaded her stranglehold and thrashed her with my mace.
“Sword of Retribution! Strength of Fire!”
“A-a-ah!” The witch lit up as my ability kicked in. “Fire!”
My health turned red. I had no idea how much health the witch had left; I was too busy to check. I rained blow after blow down on her, though she answered with fire spouting from her fingertips, searing its way through me.
“That’s it, that’s i-i-it!” the witch screamed at me from inches away. I looked into her eyes and saw neither pupils nor irises—nothing but liquid fire and hatred, all as real as I’d ever seen in any human. Adrenaline pounded through my body, and my hands found her throat. She mirrored my new tactic, and I felt her fingers squeezing the life out of me.
“Do-o-o-ne!” The word choked out of her and a moment later, she dissolved into a pile of ash. I looked up. A step away stood Gunther von Richter, and in his hand was the sword he’d used to land the killing blow. His armor was dented like an old teakettle; his eyes were black and blue; his helmet was still laying under the birch tree; and he was as pale as a ghost—but he was victorious.
You unlocked level 23!
Points ready to be distributed: 5
Thank God. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d have earned an honorable death along with my victory thanks to all the crap the old devil threw at me. But when you level-up, you get your full quotient of health and mana, so…
“Here, eat this.” I tossed Gunther a crust of bread and a piece of dried meat.
“How can you eat after a battle like that?” The knight looked at me in bewilderment.
“Just eat it. Forget the battle, eating something will help you regain your strength. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go see what I can find over here.”
I walked over to the pile of ash that was once Frida, —quite the powerful witch, as it turned out. And what did I find?
Witch glasses. Serve as proof that you killed the witch.
That works. In the old days, games would give you the head, but this was the era of tolerance and humanism. So glasses it would be, torn straight from the witch.
And that was it; nothing else. Where was the gold? Where was the book? Also, why didn’t the mayor want me to bring him the glasses? It didn’t really matter, glasses or a book, as long as I finished the quest.
“I’m going to check out the house,” I called over to Gunther. “You look around here.”
“I wouldn’t go in there.” The knight pursed his lips. “You’ll trigger some kind of wizardry, and that will be it.”
“I have to. There’s something I need to find so I can prove that the witch is dead.”
“Things aren’t how they used to be.” The young knight shook his head. “Nobody believes the word of a warrior without material proof anymore.”
“We’ll talk later.” He didn’t know what a respawn was, but I did. The witch was quest-specific and probably wouldn’t respawn, but you never knew. Plus, she mentioned something about a sister; maybe they lived together.
Inside, the house was small, neat, and even rather cozy. There was a good-sized wood stove, and cooking utensils were everywhere. It looked like the old witch had told the truth about her cannibalism.
In the corner, hidden under some kind of cloth, was a chest. I walked over, uncovered it, and lifted the lid.
Frida’s Chest
In the chest belonging to the evil witch Frida, you found:
The witch’s magic book, which describes spells and voodoo rituals
700 gold
Greaves
Magic ring
8 bundles of Drianod grass
Goblin-shaped chess piece made with extraordinary skill, perhaps from some incredibly rare chess set (Who knows how or why the witch came to have it?)
I emptied the chest into my bag.
You completed a quest: Kill the Forest Witch.
You killed the witch living in the forest near Fladridge.
To get your reward, bring the witch’s book of magic to the city mayor as confirmation that you killed her.
I left the house and called out to Gunther, “All right, let’s get out of here!”
“Maybe we should burn the house down?”
“What? Are you some kind of pyromaniac? If we burn it down, an hour from now, some forest devil or terrible ghost will crawl out of it. Witch houses are better left well enough alone. Burning them never ends well.”
“What could happen?” Gunther was intrigued.
“Anything. And, really, the less you know, the better you sleep.”
“I’ll sleep fine,” he said, laughing loudly. “I always sleep well. It takes me a while to fall asleep, but I’m fine once I do.”
We talked as we walked back to the road, where we found the knight’s horse grazing as it waited for him.
“Sir Hagen, if you want, you can ride Duke. I’ll run alongside.” Gunther’s offer was kind and gracious.
“Who? His name is Duke?” I looked at the horse.
“Yep.” Gunther nodded. “The Duke of Orny gave him to me afte
r I saved his daughter from a leech lurking in their castle dungeons. He marched me right into his stable and let me pick a stallion.”
“You saved his daughter, and that’s all you got?”
“What are you talking about?” The knight said, incensed. “Everybody knows that the Duchy of Orny has the best horses in all of Rattermark. They’re worth their weight in gold. Do you have any idea how much horses weigh?”
Worth their weight in gold? Nice. I’d heard of swords being paid for that way, but not horses…
“So that’s why I named him Duke—to show my appreciation. Well, up you go?”
“No, no, no. I don’t like horses, and I don’t know how to ride them. You go ahead, and I’ll just walk.”
“Duke isn’t a horse; he’s a stallion. But if you’re going to walk, I will, too. We’re brothers in arms, and we should share everything.”
“By the way!” I slapped my forehead with my palm. “Thanks for reminding me; we need to split the loot.”
“Split what?”
“I found some gold and some other things in the witch’s house. Half of it is yours!”
I was well aware that NPCs don’t need gold or anything else you could find in the game. But I would have felt like a rat if I hadn’t offered my worthy—if digital and naïve—knight his half.
“No, no, Sir Hagen. I don’t need any of the witch’s belongings.” The knight was indignant. “You should probably forget it, too. Nothing worthwhile comes of anything—good or otherwise—that you get from a witch.”
“Whatever you say. If you change your mind, your half is waiting for you.”
I realized I had forgotten to take a look at the greaves and ring. The greaves turned out to be pretty nice, and the ring as well.
Ivy Greaves
Protection: 340
+9 to agility
+8% to attack precision
+6% additional damage done by Toxic Shock (if it is learned)
Durability: 230/230
Minimum level to use: 27
Now I just needed to find that Toxic Shock ability…
Woven Grass Ring
+4 to wisdom
+3 to stamina
+0.7% mana restoration speed
More Than a Game Page 20
