“Check me out. I get it.”
And it’s not clever, I think.
“A Player Killer, huh?” He gives me a toothy grin. “I’d better keep my eye on you. Good thing I’m ten levels ahead!”
Another disadvantage of being a Player Killer – my handle is rimmed in red. Anyone that sees or greets me knows instantly what I am.
He nods at the silent mage. “Her handle reads Deathdale, but that’s all I know about her. That and she’s a fan of pirates!” He laughs again. “Because she has an eye patch,” he quickly explains. “She’s also a Player Killer, likely a Mage subclass of sorts. Boy, did I end up in a potentially sticky situation!” He snorts. “Luckily I could easily, easily, take you both out.”
I grind my teeth as I stare the boisterous archer down. The lira, Oric, that’s why you’re doing this. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“That’s some big dog you have there, Oric,” he says.
“It’s a wolf, which happens to also be his name. Wolf Ruffian.”
“You named him that?” he asks, an eyebrow raised at me.
“He’s a Tagvornin wolf and he can get pretty rough. The name fit. No more questions. Is there something in particular we’re waiting for?”
Deathdale takes a few steps away from us, her heels clacking on the cobblestone. She holds her nose high, as if she’s trying to look over the sun.
“I couldn’t tell you what’s up with this one,” Czech grumbles. “She’s been here all of thirty minutes without saying a word to me. Believe me, I fucking tried to break through to her. Hell, I even did a little magic trick I learned as my last avatar. She wasn’t buying it.”
“Maybe you annoyed her.”
“Hey, what are you trying to say?” He puffs his chest out and places a single hand on the crossbow pistol holstered at his side. I’ve dealt with his type before – a braggart who just so happens to be at a level that makes him dangerous to the general public.
Firearms aren’t allowed in Unigaea. Players can’t craft them, nor can anyone equip one from a shared inventory list from another world. Of course, players have figured ways around this, and one of these ways is the crossbow pistol, which functions almost exactly like a firearm but with bolts instead of bullets. The other is a firework-shooting weapon that looks suspiciously like a sawed-off shotgun.
Czech and I stare each other down for a moment. I am male, and dick-measuring contests seem to be a prerequisite for being a male playing a male character in an online game. I don’t know why this is, but I play my part by not looking away.
The door to the City Council building kicks open, ending our little standoff.
Two soldiers clad in shogun-like armor step out, and the first calls down to us. “You may join us inside. The wolf will wait outside.”
I hear Wolf start to growl.
“Easy,” I tell him as I place my hand on his snout. “I’ll just be a moment.” He looks up at me with his big puppy-dog eyes. “Just relax, lay down or something.”
Czech laughs – whether at me or something else, I can’t tell. He’s the first to take the stone stairs up into the council building, followed by Deathdale. The muted woman walks in a very calculated way, as if she’s auditioning to be a runway model.
She represents both the beauty and the problem of online fantasy worlds – anyone can be anything. They can take on any persona, they can wear whatever they’d like, and they can behave in ways that go against their particular set of beliefs, their culture, or their better judgment.
By the looks of her dress-shaped black leather armor, she’s some sort of mage. No leg armor? This is something only someone with enough magic to keep an enemy at bay would spring for.
As we enter the council hall, I nearly trip over my own feet I’m so focused on the mysterious Player Killer known as Deathdale.
Tin Ingot city council members sit behind raised desks at the far end of the room. They wear purple robes with long collars adorned with an intricate gold pattern. The council is a mixture of NPCs, Player Characters, and even a few Reborn Player Characters, or RPCs, which is the term given to people who have died in the real world and registered to have all their life chip information transferred to an avatar.
“Ah, they have arrived.” The robust, bearded council leader instructs us to come before him. He waits until the great doors of the hall are shut to continue speaking. “I trust that you three know why you are here.”
I nod, as does Czech. Deathdale says nothing.
“Good, then I won’t waste your time rehashing why it is we have put out this bounty.” He coughs, pounds his chest for a moment and clears his throat. His neck fat hangs over the front of his popped collar in a way that looks as if he may choke. His eyes are bloodshot, his face the color of tomato puree.
“You can count on us,” Czech says, smiling proudly at the man.
The leader scowls. “The day I trust a mercenary will be a strange day indeed! That said, your services are needed and you will be paid handsomely for your troubles. So I tend to agree with you, then. I can count on you – that is, until I pay you.”
Two heavily armored soldiers carry a chest out to a smaller table behind us. They set it down and I hear the clank of lira. We’re each given a bag that contains at least 1,000 lira.
“This is a down payment for your services,” says the head councilman. “The rest will be given to you when you bring Drake Farmrot, the governor of Rial Resort Town, to us. If he dies, you get none of the money. If you alert the town in any way, you will still get a portion of the money, but it will be considerably less than the original amount.”
“Ten thousand lira,” Czech says, licking his lips. He looks to Deathdale for confirmation and the odd woman gives him none.
Ten thousand lira. I too salivate a bit at this number. With this amount, I’ll be able to upgrade my gear, which will bring me one step closer to killing the guild of Player Killers who destroyed the village I founded.
“We will know if you alert the town.” The leader coughs again, rubs his hand on his heart, and returns his glassy gaze to us. “We have scouts there now and they will get word to us before you return. Because of this final stipulation, we will not pay you the final bounty until twenty-four hours after you’ve returned. That said, during this time in the city, you will be treated to whatever and whomever you’d like.” He smiles at the three of us. “Whatever or whomever that may be.”
“Got it,” I tell him. “I’m assuming you have transportation arranged for us?”
“We do.”
“Is it big enough to carry a Tagvornin wolf?”
He looks to one of the purple-robed council women. She calls her assistant over, they speak in hushed tones for a moment, and she finally nods at the leader.
“It is now. You will find the raft at the port, in the section designed for Tin Ingot city government employees.”
“Good!” Czech claps his hands together. “Enough of the formalities … let’s do this!” The archer spins on his heels.
“Alive,” the lead council member calls after him. “Bring Drake Farmrot back alive!”
Quest update!
You have agreed to capture the governor of Rial Resort Town on the northern coast of Unigaea. You have been paid a down payment to bring Drake Farmrot back alive. If you alert the town authorities, the bounty paid will be lowered. If you kill the governor or he dies in another way, you will not receive payment aside from the 1,000-lira stipend.
Chapter Six: Rare Class
We’re on the raft all of ten minutes before Czech Meyout gets under my skin.
The guy won’t shut up, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s doing all the paddling, and that we may need his sniping services, I’d kill him, feed him to the fish, and gladly enjoy watching my infamy count increase by one.
The temperature has dropped and the moon is slightly red tonight, which I know to be a bad omen. Still, I’m not superstitious, and as long as we keep to the shadows, I do
n’t believe it will be all that difficult to kidnap the governor of Rial Resort Town.
Czech will need to keep his goddamn mouth shut, and it’s a good thing his job is to provide support.
I pull up my character sheet for a moment.
Oric Rune
Class: Level 8 Player Killer
Subclass: Level 3 Herbalist
INFAMY: 40 Players killed
HP: 869/869
HP recovery rate: 2% per minute
ATK: 133 +51
DEF: 114 +30
Attributes
STRENGTH: 10
WILL: 5
DEXTERITY: 7
MIND: 4
SPEED: 5
From there, I swipe right to check Wolf’s stats.
Wolf Ruffian
Class: Level 4 Tagvornin Wolf
Subclass: N/A
INFAMY: 78 Players killed
HP: 1222/1222
HP recovery rate: 1% per minute
ATK: 199
DEF: 311
Attributes
STRENGTH: 11
WILL: 5
DEXTERITY: 6
MIND: 5
SPEED: 6
At our current attribute levels, Wolf has me beat by one point in MIND.
My dog’s smarter than I am.
I chuckle to myself when I get the feeling I’m not the first person that’s realized this.
I glance down at the big canine, who rests in the center of the raft with his head tucked into his front legs. He’s shaking – the damn dog hates water – and he whimpers every time Czech jerks the raft too suddenly.
Of course, the archer notices this pretty quickly.
“Your dog scared of water?”
“He is.”
“What a pussy!” He snorts. “I had a raven once, a familiar, back when I was at your level. I wanted to name it Ravenus but then I thought of a better name.”
“Which was?”
“Poe.”
“I think Ravenus was better.”
He frowns, but his face lifts back into a smile when he says, “I’m kind of surprised they actually let you take this bounty. Was there a level cut off?” He looks to Deathdale.
The odd mage continues to stare at the water, paying no attention to us.
“Well it must have been level 8 then, ‘cause that’s your level.” He grins wickedly at me. “You saw my level, right?”
“I did.”
“Almost level 20.”
“Yes, you are.”
As we sail along the coastline, the boastful archer tries to provoke me again and I let him. I get the sense that his blood will be on my Splintered Sword by the end of this mission, but until then, we have a pretty small group and we could use some ballistics in case things get hairy.
After realizing he’s not going to get a rise from me, Czech turns his attention to Deathdale.
“What’s your deal, anyway?” he asks her. “We need to be able to talk to get the governor, you know, get a plan going.”
She turns to me and we make eye contact for the first time since meeting each other. A bright light flashes behind her good eye and I suddenly know what she is.
A grin creeps across my face as she turns away.
Holy shit is Czech barking up the wrong tree.
“I like your avatar,” he continues. “Pretty sexy if you ask me, a real hotbody. But the whole silent-treatment shtick, that’s going to get you nowhere in Unigaea. I don’t know how you made it to level 10, to be honest. You have to at least talk to people to accept quests. Hey, noob, you paddle for a moment.”
He tosses me the oar before I can say otherwise.
I bite my lip, watching for what he may do next. “Just relax,” I tell Wolf, who whimpers at the raft’s every tremor. The raft is surprisingly easy to steer and operate; I’m assuming in real life it would take some skill to pilot something this size.
Czech approaches Deathdale. “Well, you have anything to say, lady?”
She continues to ignore him.
Czech places his hand on his crossbow pistol and as he does, a beam of light lifts out of the water and lashes him across the face.
-115 HP!
Czech flies backwards and smacks into Wolf, who yelps and nips at him.
“Shit!” he screams again as the skin on his face sizzles. He scrambles to the side of the craft and begins dousing his face with water. “I’ll kill you, fucking witch!”
He recovers his sense, turns to her, and draws his crossbow pistol.
“Enough,” I call over to him.
He looks at me incredulously. “Did you just see what she did?” A bright red scar is now visible on his face. It stretches from the left side of his forehead down the bridge of his nose and all the way to his right ear.
“You’re lucky she didn’t take your eyes out too.” I smile at him. “She’s a Solar Mage.”
(^_^)
Solar Mages are an extremely rare, randomly generated class. Because of the power, they cannot be selected as a base avatar; rather, Deathdale likely selected the Mage class and was gifted her Solar Mage status.
Lucky.
I’ve played as multiple avatars and have never been gifted a randomly generated class. I’ve never met a Solar Mage either, only seen the results of what happens when someone tries to take one on. Able to utilize any energy that an object, human, plant, or animal has absorbed from the sun, Solar Mages are a force to be reckoned with. They very well may be the strongest class available in Unigaea.
“She’s a what!?” Czech spits, his weapon still drawn.
I continue to focus on my paddling as I explain what she is and what she’s capable of. I end my explanation in a way I hope sums it up for the gasconading jackass. “She could literally use the energy you’ve absorbed from the sun to fry you from the inside.”
He lowers his weapon and I glance back to Deathdale, who still has her back to us. Solar Mages do have a weakness – their power is quickly depleted, especially if they’ve done something that requires a lot of concentration.
Having never faced one, I don’t know how long it takes to deplete them of their energy. After seeing the damage that Deathdale just did to Czech’s face, I’d prefer not to find out.
“This scar is permanent!” he laments.
“Just think of it like this,” I tell him. “Now you’ll always have a story to tell about the Solar Mage that you faced off against, almost literally.”
He doesn’t get my bad pun; he does, however, take the paddle back from me and get back to “improving” his strength attribute through physical labor.
I return to Wolf and crouch down next to him. Aside from nipping at Czech after the archer nearly stumbled into him, the big mutt hasn’t moved an inch.
“Where did you get so scared of water?” I ask as I pet his head. “I thought all dogs could swim.”
I end up lying down next to Wolf for the rest of the trip. The air over the water is chilly and he’s warm, another plus for having a wolf companion.
Deathdale stands at the far end of the raft, watching the reflection of the red moon on the waves. I’ll have to keep my eye on her once we get the governor. She could simply kill both of us and take the bounty for herself. Something tells me this isn’t her MO, but one can never be too sure.
Czech grumbles every now and then about his shiny new scar, but he more or less keeps his trap shut until we start to near the shoreline. “Once we land, we’ll eat and prep for the assault,” he says, the first smart thing he’s said since meeting us.
“You hear that, Wolf? You’re going to get to eat something.”
The shoreline up ahead looks as good as any. Czech steers the raft near the shore and after he tosses me a rope, I hop off and bring us onto the beach. Wolf leaps off the raft, runs up the embankment, breathes deeply, takes a piss, sniffs around for a moment, and finally takes to watching us from his new vantage point.
Chapter Seven: Arrow in the Back
Czech Meyout complains
about the fact he has to use a healing potion to recover from Deathdale’s warning attack. Like Deathdale, I’ve become quite used to ignoring the guy, and instead focus on the map of Rial Resort Town. Our raft now rests on the shoreline below the embankment, tied off to a rock the size of Wolf.
The moon is still red, and gnats and mosquitos buzz around our heads.
Once an avatar visits a town, they instantly receive a map of the area viewable on their dashboard. It is also possible to have the map set in a small circle on one’s viewing pane, but I never go this route as it clutters my view and takes away from the immersion.
As I look at the map of the town, I chew some pork I boiled the previous night. It could use some seasoning, but it’ll do for now. My life bar is full, but due to the fact I’m permalogged in, I feel things like hunger and fatigue. There isn’t really a way to discover this through stats; it resembles real life.
I could be at full health and exhausted.
Wolf busies himself gnawing a slab of pork loin I cooked just for him. Now that we’re out of the water, he’s back to his usual happy self.
“So,” Czech says with his mouthful, “I’ll get to the rooftop of the tallest building that is closest to the governor’s mansion.”
“You think you’ll be able to gain access?”
“I’m an Archer with a subclass of Scout,” he brags. “Of course I can gain access.”
I see the building he is talking about on my viewing pane. It’s the guildhall for an unlisted guild.
I equip the map proper to make it easier for us to see it.
“You think you can brighten this some?” I ask Deathdale, who sits on an oversized hunk of driftwood, eating something that looks as if it has been wrapped in a leaf.
Suddenly, the map brightens as if backlit.
“Thanks.”
“Wow, you two sure have a thing going on.” Czech eyes me suspiciously. “Should I be worried?”
“You should always be worried.” I let him consider what I’ve said for a moment before continuing. “Now back to the plan: Deathdale and I will be on the front line, then. We’ll move up this street towards the mansion.” I press my finger onto the map. “Wolf too.”
The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy Page 4
