by Brian Simons
Analyzing NPC death statistics…
Recent NPC deaths: 20
Recent respawns: 15
Respawn fail rate: 25%
Primary respawn fail location: Havenstock
Initiating Havenstock patron deity sequence to address in-game inconsistency…
16
Daniel lied on his prisoner’s mattress for a while, but no one logged back in and the guards never came down to check on him. He logged out and pulled himself off of his real mattress, in his bedroom, and yanked the visor off of his face. He would have torn the nanotech out of his body too if he could.
He walked to his window and opened it. Cool night air came rushing in. He was only in a T-shirt and his skin quickly turned to goosebumps, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to let the outside in. It was easier than letting what was inside out.
How did things devolve so quickly? He had wanted to tell Coral how impressed he was with her for accomplishing so much in so little time. Somehow, all he had done was insult her and make an ass out of himself.
Maybe, if he worked really hard and earned up enough gold, he could afford to finish his degree. And maybe he’d keep playing Travail anyway, but it would be nice to know he had options. So that when his ragtag team of raiding buddies fell apart, he wouldn’t be left stranded. Maybe that’s why Marco had disappeared. Maybe he found a job out there and didn’t look back.
Or maybe everyone just needed a good, long sleep. Maybe they’d wake up in the morning and Sal would be his normal buoyant self. And Sybil would think about the gold she could earn tomorrow instead of what she failed to earn the day before. And Coral, well, maybe Coral would see that Daniel’s heart was in the right place, or at least getting there.
Too many maybes for one tired brain to process. He closed the window and lied back down. The next thing he knew, his alarm went off and pulled him out of a deep sleep. He had passed out in yesterday’s clothes. After a shower and some breakfast, he was ready to log back on and see what Havenstock Castle had in store for them.
Sal was back in his cell, but the others hadn’t come back online yet. “Hey, Sal.”
“Daniel! It was getting lonely in here. I figured I’d rather hang around and wait for you guys than sit at home doing nothing.”
“You’d rather sit in jail? Damn. How awful is your house?”
“It’s a studio apartment, actually. In a bug-infested building in a bad neighborhood deep into West Philly. It’s not worth the rent I pay, but there’s nothing cheaper for miles.”
“Ah. I’m in Manayunk,” Daniel said. “I grew up here. It’s not a bad neighborhood, but not much to do here on the cheap. I’d rather be in-game too. I didn’t realize we lived so close.”
“Me neither,” Sal said. “All this time, and we could have hung out in person! If you’d want to, I mean. If not that’s fine, hanging out online is good too. It’s just that ever since my family moved to Ohio I don’t really see many people in person.”
“Your whole family moved without you?” Daniel asked.
“Not all at once. My parents are medical researchers and their company moved, so they had to move too or give up their jobs. And then my older brothers went to college and our parents got them jobs at the same company. And then my little sister did the same. I’m the black sheep of the family. I took my chances here in Travail. I like it, don’t get me wrong. I just miss my family.”
“Well, you have us.”
Coral materialized back in her cell. “Good morning,” Daniel said.
“Oh,” Coral said. “If it isn’t the erudite and all-knowing Daniel_the_Maniel, gracing us common folk with his sagacious presence.”
“Uh oh,” Sal said. “You guys had a fight after I left.”
“Yep,” Coral said.
“Come on, Coral,” Daniel said. “I said something stupid and I didn’t mean it. Besides, if I thought I was so much better than you, I wouldn’t have died for you back in that raid dungeon!”
“Oh, that’s right. You did die for me. That makes this, what, your second coming? What’s the appropriate way to thank you, shall I wash your feet?”
Daniel slumped onto the uncomfortable bed on his cell floor. “I give up. I’m sorry.”
The sound of hard leather soles on stone echoed from the stairwell. The door to the small jail opened. Ten guards filled the small area outside the prisoners’ cells.
“Let’s go,” one said.
“Should we wait for Sybil?” Sal asked.
“The Regent waits for no prisoner!” a guard shouted.
“So, that’s a ‘no’ then,” Sal mumbled as the guards opened their cell doors and shackled their hands behind their backs. They led the three up the stairs and down the long hallway toward the throne. The Regent sat there, flanked by guards, a man in yellow robes with a matching conical hat, and a woman wearing a purple leather skirt and vest and tattoos up her arms and neck.
The Regent spoke first. “I understand you tried to force your way into the castle yesterday evening. Explain yourselves.”
“Your Highness,” Daniel started, hoping he had the right title for someone styled as “Regent.” “We received a quest yesterday that urged us to come speak with you. We saw no other way in.”
“Why not pull the chain and ring the bell?” The Regent asked.
Daniel looked at the others, flummoxed. Coral and Sal had been the ones to get to the castle first.
“I have never known the gates to have a bell attached, Your Highness,” Daniel said. This much was true.
“I installed a bell yesterday in anticipation of your arrival. No matter. Prove to me that you are the ones who received the quest, and I will share the details. Otherwise, we’ll put you in the stocks. We must deter people from whacking the castle gates with mallets.” The Regent glared at Sal. “It’s very uncivilized.”
“I killed a zombie dragon yesterday,” Coral said, “and the reward was this quest.”
“And how did you do that, pray tell. Stab it with your fabric shears?”
“I threw a burning weapon down its throat and it barbecued to death from the inside.” Coral’s voice trembled as she spoke.
“Very cunning, dear girl. When I stashed my quest away with that dragon, I expected to draw in a great fighter, but I’ll take a sharp mind over a strong fist any day.”
Daniel bristled at the insinuation that his former character was inferior to a low level Seamstress just because she had a lucky break. However, now was not the time for pride. “But Your Highness, that raid dungeon was instanced,” Daniel said. “Wouldn’t other players have gotten the same quest?”
“Only one chest contained my quest. The other chests all had gobs of money or high level gear and such. Those were protected by some pushover griffin or something. My quest was far more important, so I entrusted it to the foulest demon at my disposal.”
Daniel’s jaw dropped. But for a twist of fate, he could have been a rich high level Fighter right now. He wasn’t sure how much money qualified as a “gob.” He was sad he’d never find out.
“It’s a matter of discretion, really,” the Regent continued. “Can’t have everyone traipsing around with what I’m about to tell you. That would be mayhem. No, the quest would only go to someone worthy to meet the challenge of it. I must say, I’m doubtful that’s you. You’re a sorry looking squad. And you still haven’t proven you’re the intended questers.”
If their story about the dragon didn’t prove it, what would? Sal had swiped a flagon full of slime, but Daniel drank it to get the stamina he needed to outrun Otto.
“Oh, here comes the fourth member of your merry band of misfits,” the Regent said.
Daniel, Coral, and Sal all turned toward the hallway to see two guards ushering Sybil toward the throne. Her hands were shackled behind her back and one guard clasped a gauntlet-covered hand over her mouth.
“A Shadowsiren! Interesting. Most Bards don’t choose such a sullen path,” the Regent said.
T
he guards stopped in front of the throne and pushed Sybil forward. She stumbled, but didn’t fall.
“I’m not your average Bard,” she said.
“One lyric from that purple little mouth and my court wizard will slap you with a mute spell that will last for weeks,” the Regent said. “Now, you lot were going to prove that you unlocked my quest? I’m waiting.”
“Is there money in this quest?” Sybil asked.
“Brazen that you ask,” the Regent said. “I suppose, if that’s what you like. The quest is for one person technically, but she may share it with those who get us past the finish line.”
“Good, because from now on, I won’t do a lick of work without getting paid.”
The Regent raised an eyebrow. Sybil drew out the silence, seemed to play with it like a cat with a ball of yarn. When the Regent opened his mouth to speak again, Sybil cut him off. “It’s in my bag. The dragon’s tongue. I think it speaks volumes about what this band of ‘misfits’ is capable of.”
A guard reached into her inventory bag and removed the foot-long gray organ, which had stayed preternaturally slimy. He immediately dropped it to the floor in apparent disgust.
“Well said, chanteuse. Now, guards, unshackle our new friends.”
Daniel wished the Regent had added a “gently” to his instruction. One guard nearly broke his wrist removing the heavy metal cuffs.
“As you may have noticed,” the Regent said, “there’s a madman running about with a pure white battle axe. As the Regent of Havenstock, it is my responsibility to ensure the welfare of my people. Until now, there has been no reason to involve myself in the daily affairs of the city. However, this lunatic has killed some of our citizens. He has killed players that visit Havenstock expecting peace and security. He has killed guards. He has become stronger with each kill, like a vampire slowly draining the lifeblood of our fair home.
“When a soul is lost, our patron deity, Januar, oversees their reincarnation or respawn. Death is a painful and dire fate, but rarely permanent. Until now. This evil axe seems to interfere with Januar’s restorative cycle by inflicting permadeath.”
That news took a moment to settle in. Not only had Daniel narrowly escaped death yesterday, it was a death from which there was no coming back. If what the Regent said was true, even the old lady couldn’t send him back to Travail if Otto killed him.
The court psychic stepped forward, her tattoos glowing faintly green as she spoke. “Januar is on his way here to Havenstock, though it is not his nature to intercede.”
“You want us to kill this version of Otto, who wields this terrible weapon,” Daniel said.
The Regent and guards all laughed. Daniel wasn’t sure what was so funny.
“You lack such power,” the Regent explained. “Otto is far too strong for you. No, all I ask is that your Seamstress craft armor for us that will protect our army from his evil weapon. We will take care of Otto.”
“Why not a blacksmith?” Daniel asked. “Perhaps the fabled ores of other realms would offer protection.”
“I chose a Seamstress. Do not second guess me.”
Daniel blushed. “Of course, Your Highness.”
“How should we start?” Coral asked.
“You are eager! So am I. There is a witch who lives in the swamp southwest of here who owes me a favor. Cash that favor in. Ask what training would help you accomplish our task. I have run out of ideas, but I believe Galbrag may have a few.”
Quest Update: Hemming and Hawing
The Regent of Havenstock asked you to cash in a favor from the swamp witch Galbrag. He believes Galbrag can help you create armor that will protect against Otto.
Requirements: Cunning. Guile. And a sewing kit.
Rewards: New Tailoring skill / gold.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Coral said.
“Now, away with you!” he said. The court psychic leaned over to whisper in the Regent’s ear.
“Not you, Daniel_the_Maniel. I’d like a word.”
The guards ushered the others toward the front of the castle while Daniel hung back.
“Alua here,” the Regent said, gesturing toward the tattooed psychic, “is in touch with Januar. Apparently you have much potential. Yet, your class is that of a lowly Scout. How did that come to pass?”
“I’m not sure. The old woman who offered me this path said that I knew something of sacrifice and leadership, and that I could become a great General one day.”
“That is one way forward,” Alua said, “but not the only way. Your path will fork many times, young Scout. Choose the path of valor when it does.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Seek Januar’s blessing before you traverse the swamp. And when Januar himself comes, do what must be done.”
“By the way,” the Regent said, “you should keep an eye on that siren of yours. Her kind are trouble.”
“Shadowsirens?” Daniel asked.
“Dark elves. The Elf Queen banished the drow from the great forest of Diardenna for a reason. They are an evil brood. Never trust a dark elf.”
“Sybil has always been a trustworthy friend,” Daniel said in her defense. “I trust her with my life.”
“You should rethink that,” the Regent said. “Their people have a motto, ‘embrace the darkness.’ Don’t let your guard down or you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of that darkness.”
“Thank you for your advice,” Daniel said. He would suggest to his friends that they visit Januar’s temple for a blessing, but he refused to let the Regent’s words call Sybil’s loyalty into doubt. She had stuck by him through thick and thin. He bent down on one knee in genuflection before the Regent, then walked away from the throne to catch up with his friends. They were at the castle entrance receiving their weapons back from the guards.
The four adventurers walked in silence until they were outside the main gates to the castle.
“Let’s get to the swamp,” Sybil said, no doubt with dollar signs in her eyes. They didn’t know how much gold this quest was worth, but if the Regent was backing it, it could have a considerable jackpot.
“We should be careful on the streets, though. Otto could be lurking anywhere,” Sal said.
“Right, Otto,” Daniel said. “Let’s pay him a visit.”
“Are you insane?” Coral asked.
“I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll find a Level 2 Otto behind the counter of his shop. Besides, we need to load up on supplies, and then go to the temple for a blessing before we head into the swamp.”
Daniel watched each of his friends digest this information and slowly agree. Together they walked through the streets of Havenstock.
17
Coral stood just outside Otto’s shop when she saw a notification pop up in her chat log.
>> Your bank account has been approved! You can now purchase gold directly from your Inventory menu anywhere in Travail.
Paying to play was not on the agenda. There was no reference to selling gold back for real world cash, but everyone knew that was an option too. It was precisely why so many people got into Travail in the first place.
Coral and the others walked into Otto’s shop. There was Otto, standing dutifully behind his counter. He didn’t look the least bit perturbed to see them. Coral gave him a long hard look to inspect him. His basic information popped up.
>> Otto, Level 2 Shopkeeper.
“I’ll cut right to the chase,” Daniel said. “Are you running around Havenstock terrorizing people with a huge battle axe?”
Otto rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go again. I don’t know why these things have to happen to me, of all people. I’m just an unassuming shopkeeper. Someone seems to be dressed up as me running around killing people. It’s been awful for business. I figured you hadn’t heard or you wouldn’t have come, and I wasn’t going to say anything that might scare you off.”
“So that’s not you?” Coral asked. “We had a run-in with this guy. He had your exact face, Otto.”
“I
don’t know what to tell you,” Otto said. “I haven’t left my shop since I saw you last.”
“Ok, let’s get on with it,” Sybil said. “We’ll take however many potions you’ll give us in exchange for this.” She dropped the severed tongue of yesterday’s kill on his counter. It landed with a dull thud and rolled to the side, leaving a trail of slimy saliva behind.
“What in Travail is this?” Otto asked, putting a monocle to one eye and bending close to the foul appendage. “This may have application in potions or spell crafting. I’d give you fifty gold for it, which amounts to two greater health potions.”
