-- Hm… -- I repeated – Well, so.
-- So?
-- I understand— it was necessary to save the situation. But with the pillory and public spitting you kind of overdid it— I sincerely complained.
-- I agree— nodded the angel instantly— The situation got out of hand, so we had to act as quickly as possible, using a number of theatrical effects. You understand— there were a lot of witnesses who do not understand anything. If we just silently “moved” you, it would immediately become clear: a failure of the game, of the operating system. Once again, I bring you a formal apology. Of course, you will receive compensation from Valdira’s administration, the amount and type of which you will immediately be informed of, as soon as we complete an internal investigation of the case. I’m not authorized to discuss further on this topic.
-- Got it— I concluded— well, thank you. But why couldn’t I exit the game?
-- Warnings about temporary blackings of the “logout” function in the Golden Alley were hung up throughout the city— informed the immortal— As well as those about the blocking of certain skills and magics. A lot was written.
-- I didn’t read it— I confessed— well… I’ll go then?
-- Go— nodded the angel— But not to the city…
-- Huh?
-- You are a terrible and dark sorcerer, have you forgotten? – The demon smiled slightly, spreading his hands— and have to sit in the wet and gloomy torture chambers.
-- Are you kidding?
-- No. I beg of you. Don’t appear in Algora for at least a day. Maybe even two. And do not talk about what happened. Is this request feasible?
-- No problem— I immediately replied.
It isn’t often that representatives of the administration ask things of ordinary players.
-- I am ready to send you to any destination in the area of Valdira. Anywhere. Just name a place.
-- In a hotel as close as possible to the marshes of Ravendark— after a brief hesitation, I added— I think, that’s far enough away from Algora.
-- Ravendark Marshes? – said the representative gladly— Perfect choice! Workable! And one more thing— before we “put out” personal information of our players, someone can notice and remember your nickname.
-- I’m sure of it— I answered, instantly remembering the slightly crazed Chloe.
-- And just as surely, they will question you about the incident. What will you tell them?
-- What should I tell them? – I asked him, noticing how the demon’s face became complacent and happy. It seems that we had understood each other well.
-- About our conversation— nothing at all. About the events at the Golden Alley… if they are to ask… for example, without going into details, you can hint that you participated in a story skit. That it was all planned ahead of time. One time work, a single payment. It was planned from the beginning and happened like clockwork. And not a single word more.
-- That’s exactly what I’ll say— I promised firmly.
And I was serious. I’m the one who has to continue living in Valdira. To cheat immortals— not the best way to commit suicide. A small but continuous stream of back luck would pour upon my head in a never-ending stream.
In the game, there were several rumors about players who quarreled with demons. And there was no good in those rumors, truth be told.
-- I am very pleased that we have reached an understanding. I will send you to a private room in a small farm that is right next to the Ravendark swamp. Looking at your personal information, I can see that you have an incomplete quest directly related to the marsh. Plus, a newborn cub of the unique class in your bosom. And this, compared to the rest, is mere triviality… you are an interesting person indeed, Rosgard.
-- It is what it is— I shrugged.
-- Well. As a small and non-binding gift… catch…
There were no visible effects, but several virtual lines ran before my eyes.
-- “Divine Hand” for you and your pet for a period of 24 hours— said the demon— casting spells which are invisible to other players. And what is particularly valuable to you— among other things, “Divine Hand” gives a fifty percent resistance to poison. And poisonous swamp monsters…
-- Many thanks.
-- Thank you to you, Rosgard. For understanding and cooperation, in advance. Once the internal investigation is completed, you will be immediately notified and we will discuss the size and type of compensation. Can we regard this conversation as settled?
-- Yes. But…
-- But?
-- Would you mind taking away this damned love aura? – I asked— Zero benefits, but troubles through the roof.
-- Done. Enjoy the game, Rosgard.
-- Wait!
--What else? – The demon sighed patiently.
-- Where did Lizanna get such a powerful weapon? She cut the magic barrier like a tin can!
-- Well… just between us…
-- Mhm!
-- According to the setup, after the sex scenes with the king, Lizanna was supposed to kill him with this dagger. Given the fact that the king is an extremely powerful mage, and has many powerful protective artifacts… you know… she needed a special weapon.
-- Mhm… but why kill him though?
-- The erotic drama— said the immortal, and I could not help but snort.
-- Good luck!
I did not have a chance to reply— I was enveloped in the azure glow and the prison walls disappeared. A short burst of light and I was back in my private room, from which I had emerged only recently. Here, just outside the door, was no longer the sleepless Algora but the gloomy Ravendark swamp. Well… here is where I had sought to be all along.
Well, hold on Ravendark— I’m coming! Just what I needed— an outlet for my accumulated emotions.
Chapter Three.
Tyrant’s first victim.
A friend is known— time to change the cards.
The farm, in truth, was very close to the marsh— the Ravendark Marsh began right behind the rickety fence ahead of me. In the opposite direction I could see a narrow and fairly grassy road leading to the unknown— consulting the map, I was fairly certain that on the other side was the recently abandoned Algora, but the road to it was blocked by a few “white spots”, marking the unknown on my map. In any case, I was not going to go around stomping my feet— teleportation scrolls still remained with me. I surveyed the area without moving from the high, squeaky porch, and looked intently into the distance from under my palm as I shielded my eyes from the sun.
A little further down the road there was a picket sign, towards which I ran up to and the slanted letters of which I read— Apple Grove Farm. Carefully, I swept my head from side to side, but I could not find a single deciduous tree. Only some twisted Christmas trees with yellowing needles, or even without. And the fog. Lots of fog, and a chilly breeze billowing high into the air. And everywhere, a noticeable humidity— raw log walls, huge puddles sucking the earth under their feet. What’s more— the frogs did not cease even for a moment, and amphibians yelled as if it was their last day on earth, and they had decided to give it their all in their final hours.
There was a prolonged yawn, and at the same time a man with a shaggy beard appeared from around the corner. A gray shirt over his shapeless pants, and ragged sandals on his bare feet.
-- Hello good man! – He yawned again, the man whose garb and appearance would be disdainfully perceived even by a scarecrow.
-- And hello to you as well sir – I replied politely, in the same vein.
My sudden appearance in his abode had not seemed to startle the man at all. He just leisurely surveyed me, scratched his him, and walked on.
-- Good sir! Why this farm is called Apple Grove? – I could not resist asking.
-- The devil knows— shrugged him in response. The farmer did not even turn around.
-- Is it possible to buy or sell anything here?
-- Naa-aahhh— the answer turned
into another powerful and prolonged yawn— that’s impossible. We are not market people.
-- So I see— I sighed— so what about a map?
-- What map? Who needs it, no one ever pops in here. A poor place…
-- Hm… so you don’t have any requests? Maybe you need help with anything? Hm?
-- Nahhh… Nothing like that.
-- Nothing at all? – I couldn’t believe him— Just straight up nothing? And no rats in your basement? The undead do not bother you?
-- As I say— no need. Be well.
-- Uhuh. Same to you – I nodded, dumbfounded. What a hell of a farmer…
Behind me, someone vaguely grunted. I turned abruptly, and almost collided with a girl in an equally nondescript, shabby dress. Mouse-colored hair, and expressionless eyes. A dim smile.
-- Good morning…-- I sighed, having “admired” the maiden.
-- Yeah… -- the girl gurgled and briskly thundered up the steps with her wooden shoes, disappearing behind the same corner that… I don’t even know, who he is to her. Maybe a husband, maybe father…
-- Farmers… -- I mused thoughtfully, and turned back to the fence, behind which began the Ravendark territory. Oh, how my heart feels it, I’m gonna have a hard time here.
One good thing— next to these moss covered rocks was the home plate, on which I would be revived. If I was slayed, I would show up here. I did not have to run too far, naked, to retrieve my things. It is for this reason— the fear of being killed in Ravendark Marsh— that I forced myself to leave my legendary items behind. No, thank you. Frankly, I mostly feared death at the hands of aggr-players. No.. I was banally afraid of falling into the death trap of the swamp muck. Given the fact that I would not “die” right away, and would sink rather far down, my corpse would certainly be left out of reach. And what then? To dive?
Yeah right… I’m not an achilot. I’m a moron.
Why? Because such locations as this are considered safe only when you’re playing as a team. If marshes in the world of Valdira are different from those in the real world, it is only for the worse. They are much darker, scarier, deeper, and populated by all sorts of vile creatures. And if you get sucked into the muck, the only reasonable way to get out is with a helping hand. Or, by using a teleportation scroll. But if you constantly use scrolls at any sign of danger… nothing sensible about that. One step forward— two steps back. It is better to take a chance and struggle.
For these very reasons, I had left everything of value in the private room. Behind, a backpack full of flasks of colorful potions, my hands empty and Tyrant snoring peacefully in my bosom. My elegant white jacket was not quite suited for climbing through the marshes, but there was nothing to do about that. As for weapons— personal spells, a wand charged with lightening and a pair of scrolls with combat magic of the highest rank.
Once again looking around, I looked up at the sky and hollered mournfully:
-- Ownersss… Helloooo….
From behind the corner poked a shaggy face.
-- What do you want?
-- I would like to have a longer staff – I asked hopefully— Would you find one for me? I will pay.
-- To go through the swamp y’mean?
-- Yeap!
-- There is, fortunately. There, take any pole from the fence and you’ll have a staff… and sink like a tombstone to the bottom… and you’ll certainly sink.
-- Why thank you, good master— I smiled “affectionately”— Really you rescued me there. And thanks for the great advice.
-- Yup…. take it… -- said the farmer, not noticing my sarcasm and, emitting a long yawn, added— But there are also certain shoes you can wear, that you can walk on the water and not sink! That really wouldn’t hurt!
-- You don’t say! – I started up— You don’t sell it?
-- Hm! Where would I get that? People talk… I don’t know… well, go on, stranger!
-- Eh… May you… live a long and happy life, good master… -- I choked out, and went to the fence.
Here the owner did not lie- the whole fence was composed of long sticks plunged into the damp earth. Pull out any one, and there’s your finished staff. Which I did, when I found one that was long enough. To use this as a weapon is silly— but for the rest, it would do just fine.
My minimum equipment received, now remained the most important thing… and I didn’t need to go far, everything was right at my fingertips.
Just behind the fence was a gentle mount of earth covered with a yellowish grass, among which could be seen a few tiny flowers. Above this “scenic natural splendor” soared five colorful butterflies. Yeah… as though they were drinking the nectar. I wasn’t in much of a hurry, and so I firmly grabbed the sleeping cub by the scruff of the neck and, despite his discontented grumbling, pulled the young one out into the light.
-- Enough of sleep— I chided the pet who, during his “nesting” period, had doubled in size. Literally. The funny ball of fur with beady eyes had turned into a long-pawed puppy. The only thing not changed, perhaps, was the muzzle— the same sleepy and discontented expression.
To my reprimanding the cub answered in a contemptuous snort and tried to get back into my coat. No, no.
I dropped Tyrant on the ground and, not paying attention to his resentful whining, pointed at one of the butterflies.
-- Go on. Attack.
Sniffing, the black and white wolf bared his fangs and lunged at the fluttering butterfly. The butterfly jerked and… escaped from the toothy trap as though nothing had happened. Both my jaw and Tyrant’s dropped in amazement.
-- You! You couldn’t even get a butterfly!— I choked— You only bit it! Assistant, yeah right!
-- Gr-r-r… -- the cub answered my reproach, and rushed after the disappearing insects. The butterfly as obviously not stupid and tried to slip away unnoticed. But Tyrant was faster. One more lunge, the clatter of jaws… and again the butterfly continued its flight.
-- O-o-ohhh… -- I groaned from the grief which overwhelmed me.
Clamp! Clamp!
-- O-o-ohhh… a monster! Torturer! Poor butterfly! – I wailed with grief, watching the torment of the unfortunate insect.
Crunch! Flapping its wings for the last time, the insect fell to the ground. Sticking his nose in the stalks of withered grass, Tyrant returned and proudly shoved his prey into the palm of my hand. One nondescript wing and a few hairy tendrils from the same source.
-- Well… good effort— I grunted— Good, good girl. Hey! Where are you going! No, stop it, no more sleeping in my coat! Do you think, one butterfly down, and your work is over?
Tyrant sniffed an affirmative, piteously wagged his tail, but I remained adamant and with a commanding gesture pointed to the next carefree, fluttering sacrifice.
-- Get em.
And off we went. The mossy hill was quite large so butterflies appeared again lighthearted and most importantly, were completely harmless, not offering up even the slightest resistance. So Tyrant could frolic with might and especially rapidly gain his precious experience points.
While the cub tormented his third butterfly, I set up my virtual interface, removing necessary information and creating a new one. Indicators for Tyrant— his current level, the life indicator and another, as of yet completely empty bar with the word “energy” and an indicator reading 0/0. Everything else I ruthlessly removed.
Tyrant attacked his next victim. A few more clumsy bites and it finally happened! Before my eyes flashed the joyful notification:
Congratulations!
Your pet has gained a level!
And that was all. Just a short message, which I had closed, and ordered the cub on the next butterfly. Tyrant had reached the second level. The operation continued.
In contrast to your own character, the player cannot affect the characteristics of one’s own pet. Not at all.
All pets, regardless of class and rank, developed independently. That’s why players choose carefully, guided by their pet’s playing
style and class character. They ransack information deposits on their forums, consult with many experienced gaming gurus, and read numerous guides and only then make a selection, choosing one of hundreds of completely different creatures. All depend on their own needs, the budget that they have and the skills of the pet.
For example, one girl I met a girl druid who had a bear as her preferred companion. Classic. Standard, practical and absolutely logical choice. A bear is a living tank. Has got lots of vitality points, and can easily cover up his master’s body with his own in combat, not to mention that he is great in dealing physical damage and clean kicking enemies. Plus, he could haul a lot of things on his back, and aside from that, just looks very, very impressive. It turns out that, for flimsy mages, a bear pet is a powerful cover, a strong combat unit, and an excellent mount. All-in-one. Ideal for players who do not see combat as a narrowly focused specialization.
And this is just a single option among many. That bear was a brown, natural forest dweller. But there are also black bears, polar bears, and even pandas. And everyone has their own advantages and disadvantages. And most importantly— every one of them has their own unique fighting techniques and peaceful applications as the pet increases in levels.
Those very same brown bears have a great peaceful skill at their lower levels— retrieval of honey. Forest honey is extremely valuable to alchemists. Usually furious bees have a furious and negative attitude towards any attempts to get into their hive. They will instantly attack anyone stupid enough to do so. But to a bear that doesn’t matter— he’ll climb and collect the honey that the owner will carry. The very first combat skill— a quick swipe with his paw— knocks down the hive and any hits of his enemies.
The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira) Page 7
