Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon)

by G. Akella

  Players would consider themselves very lucky to encounter such mobs in the game due to guaranteed good loot. A mob that was about 1.5 times stronger than the regular sort would give the lucky victor a rare item in every case. The fact that its level would often be two or three times higher than that of the zone would normally be fairly inconsequential—you could call a fellow clanmate of a higher level, or several friends, and pocket the trophy. Alternatively, you could sell the info to someone you trusted.

  This particular encounter, however, made me want to howl at the moon. It was hard not to get discouraged in this situation… the more self-pity I felt, the more I hated myself. Finally, hatred triumphed over pity, and an outburst of fury destroyed my melancholy completely. "Screw all of you!" I hissed, rising. Seventeen levels lost—so what! I got to keep all my talents, and fifty seven points of stats were small fry considering the gains from the equipment. I'd be able to equip my armor and sword again. As for the cloak, the earring, and the ring—I could put them back on once at level 70, so no great loss there. However, I still needed to think of a way to retrieve aforementioned armor.

  The first thing that came to mind was to ask the legionnaires for help, but how would that reflect on me? And how would I put it to them? "Why don't you guys snuff the gargoyle with those mighty high levels of yours, and poor little me will stand and watch? Oh, and I also need to get that armor off my corpse." Yeah, right. Ludicrous. I had to get the armor myself, and I knew how to do it. All I needed was to pop into my room and grab two vials of Medium Invisibility Potions.

  There was a huge pile of boulders some thirty feet away from my corpse. Skeleton packs didn't venture that far—the gargoyle's roost was close nearby. It was pretty simple—I would use the first potion to get to the pile and wait out the five-minute cooldown. Then I'd cast Shackles on the nearest pack and Silence the sorcerer, if they had one, just to play it safe. Then I'd grab my stuff, pop the second bottle, and split.

  It would still probably be a good idea to tell the legionnaires about the gargoyle—it wasn't like they would rush out to the ruins and start exploring right away. But I had to go either way, otherwise I wouldn't manage to sleep at all—why would I want that kind of anxiety? I shouldn't draw any aggro on my way to the ruins—that much had been established.

  As usual, my mood lightened once a decision was made. What was a month or two of delay when you had eternity at your disposal?

  "Stone gargoyle, eh?" Neyl scratched the back of his head, deep in thought. I was fortunate—the captain wasn't asleep, so I didn't need to wait for someone to wake him.

  "Yup. Sitting on a protruding part on the wall of the keep, right above the entrance. I won't be able to handle it alone, so I thought I might tell you about it."

  "But we've been there, haven't we?" the demon frowned. "Although those creatures are great at disguising themselves—you can't tell one from a rock. We may have failed to notice it."

  "He's no fool to attack a dozen soldiers, is he?" I don't know why I had to specify the gargoyle's gender or why that would even be important—Hart only knew how those beasts were classified! And I definitely shouldn't mention the aggro radius. Neyl's was... somewhat different from mine, given that his level was 230, and mine, 82... formerly, that is. Little wonder that the legionnaires hadn't noticed anything.

  "Thanks, Krian. We'll definitely check it out today and see what kind of beast hides there." Neyl looked toward the ruins somberly. "Will you come with us?"

  "I'll definitely join if I manage to get there in time," I nodded. Where else would I be? Hell, I should get some popcorn as well, and a front-row seat to the execution of the brute that had sent me to be reborn.

  "It's agreed, then." The demon shook my hand. "Come by midday—that's when we set off."

  It took me about an hour to get to the ruins. I could have been quicker, but I was trying to move as stealthily as I could, keeping to the very center of the path lest I waded into the aggro range of some wild beast, god forbid.

  I only realized how stupid it was to travel through the forest by night once I got deep enough. The forest had a life of its own. The light of the moon barely got through the gloomy canopy of the trees that stood to either side of the road. Silence was often broken by mysterious sounds that would make anyone in their right mind want to run as far and as fast as they could.

  For a moment I thought about going back and retrieving my equipment later, after dawn, but I instantly suppressed it. The decision had been made, and I wasn't about to go back on it.

  The eyes of the skeletons patrolling the environs of the ruins shone with a blue light—the devs must have thought it would intimidate the players, but I found it funny for some reason. The ruins themselves, lit by moonlight alone, looked like a huge dark blotch from where I was standing.

  The position of my corpse was marked on the map. There shouldn't be more than three hundred fifty yards left—about three hundred to the gates, and another fifty to the dungeon entrance. I pulled the vial with the Medium Invisibility Potions from my inventory. Invisibility would kick in two seconds after ingestion and last a minute. The potions's cooldown time was five minutes. It would indeed be odd if the cooldown time were shorter than the effect—everyone would turn into a brigand. The first goal was the pile of boulders. Let's roll.

  You are currently invisible. The level of threat you represent has been lowered. No enemies can target you. The effect's duration is one minute. Any extraordinary action on your part will result in the termination of the invisibility effect.

  So, I could run around, crouch, shout and wave my hands. However, if I used Jump or looted my corpse, invisibility would instantly fade. It took me about fifty seconds and nearly all my visor to reach the designated spot. Now all I had to do was wait.

  No doubt, it was unwise to visit such places at night. Apart from the resurrected undead, nothing seemed to have changed over the time that I'd been gone. Fragments of walls that had once protected this castle were scattered all over the place, along with the rubble from a stone statue, the dark remnants of a well and the somber arch of the keep's entrance. All in all, the moonlit courtyard of the castle looked decidedly spooky.

  The ugly thing that had killed me was sitting some five feet above the ground. Neyl was right—if you didn't know exactly what to look for, the still body of a stone gargoyle was hard to tell from a simple rock. Noon isn't that far off, you monkey. I didn't care for the loot the gargoyle had on it—I just wanted to see the damned thing kick the bucket! This is strange—I've never been this bloodthirsty. I quickly chased all that sappy self-reflection out of my mind. Sure, I'd really enjoy seeing this scum die. And then I'd come closer to kick its corpse. Something like that. The game was no longer a game, and I was now able to rejoice at my enemy's death. And I didn't give a damn if anybody judged me for it.

  Five minutes went by as one instant. My corpse was fifteen yards away, with a single four-mob pack close nearby. Let's rock!

  I cast Shackles on the skeletons and quickly ran toward the dearly departed. I should leave the Jump in reserve in case I might need it. I threw Silence on the one with the staff while running—the last thing I needed now was his lousy magic. I approached the body lying on the cobblestones, quickly looted all my stuff, and instantly downed an invisibility potion. Two seconds till I could run back to safety.

  Shit! I had originally assumed the fourth skeleton—the one armed with a dagger—to be a rogue, but he turned out to be a necromancer who'd managed to hit me with a thirty second periodic damage debuff, instantly stripping my invisibility. Gah! How was I supposed to tell them apart if all the undead in the courtyard flounced about in the nude with nothing but the legend "Ghorazm Ruins Skeleton" and their level floating above their heads?

  Getting past eighteen packs of the undead without any armor on was certain death—I'd never be able to leave the ruins again. "Screw you all!" I bellowed and leaped toward the dungeon entrance. I heard the familiar scraping sound above my head o
n the right—the winged ape had woken up. I accelerated and dove into the dark arch of the keep, hearing a loud thud of the heavy body hitting the cobblestones behind me...

  Chapter 8

  Welcome to the Realm of Arkon, Max...

  "I made it!" Max took a small step forward, struggling to keep his balance, and pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to mitigate the splitting headache pulsing in his skull. "I'm alive!"

  "You're a tough one, bro," a tall dark-haired guy dressed in rags, who was passing by, nodded respectfully. "I lay flat on my back for about five minutes after the jump, but look at you—you've managed to stay on your feet!"

  Max wiped cold sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coarse-wave shirt, taking a few deep breaths, and finally allowed himself to take a good look around. "Knock me sideways!" he breathed out in admiration as he took in the splendor that surrounded him. Majestic trees of enormous size stretched hundreds of feet upwards. Their luxuriant canopy was like a sunlit ocean sparkling with every shade of green imaginable. Inexplicably, enough sunlight filtered through to sustain fresh growth below, which, in turn, was breathtaking—a wide variety of plants filling the air with pleasant aromas. This beauty was augmented by the elven architecture, which seemed to exist in perfect harmony with the vegetation and complement the forest in its exquisite elegance. Elves resided inside the trunks of trees, which kept on growing untroubled, as though by virtue of kinship with the creatures living within.

  The only thing spoiling the view were a few hundred other players dressed the same as Max. He wondered why none of them seemed to be doing anything—they just sat on the grass and talked, gesturing wildly, while others roamed the wood without any visible purpose. About fifty yards away away a group of young men and women with flowers in their hair were dancing at an impromptu disco. He felt as though he paid a visit to the Moscow Botanical Gardens and ended up at a mixed hippie/emo party. The hair color of those around him ranged from snow-white to raven-black; many had tattoos and piercings of all sorts on their faces, and as for the ears...

  The ears! Max felt the rims of his ears and gave a mirthless laugh. But of course, I'm an elf now. He shook his head. Why couldn't Alyona choose a human character? Still, his ears felt the same as usual under his fingers, and the shape was hardly a problem—he'd get used to it. He took a good look at his hands, just in case, and then felt his face. All the sensations appear to be the same as before.

  "You should feel yourself between the legs while you're at it," smirked a dark-haired fellow lounging on the grass some twenty yards away. He had a stick of some sort in his lap, which vaguely resembled the handle of a spade. "Are you disabled?"

  "Why would you think that?" Max approached the guy and sat down on the grass next to him.

  "About thirty-six hours have passed since the patch—the first wave here were those who had nothing to lose IRL." He stuck his thumb in his chest. "A few days later, once everyone realizes what's going on, there'll be hordes of people here." The guy sighed heavily and turned away, ending the conversation.

  What a weirdo! He should be overjoyed, but look at him sitting there all mopey, thought Max as he opened his character's menu. Having never played games of this sort before, he had spent the whole night before his departure in front of his computer, choosing a suitable class for his character and then memorizing the guide. He had no time to manage anything else—he was afraid that the opportunity to relocate to the Realm of Arkon might cease to be available any moment, which would forever separate him from the only people he'd ever cared about. His race was chosen for him—since Alyona had decided to become a dark elf for whatever reason, he had no choice in the matter—an elf is an elf is an elf.

  The game's interface was intuitively understandable—the semi-transparent square with system messages, eight slots on the action bar, and three additional bars for HP, energy and mana. One could access the skills and abilities displayed on the action bar from within one's head as well, but the author of the beginners' guide recommended to keep it visible until around level 30, so that one could have visual confirmation of every action. He was physically incapable of reading all the system messages displayed at login after the surge of pain that had jolted through his body, but now that he was feeling perfectly fine again, Max tried to concentrate on the text and ignore the shouts of joy coming from all over the place.

  Welcome to the Realm of Arkon, Max. You are currently in the village of Armilan in Sunlit Forest (zonw level 1-8). Sunlit Forest and the adjacent areas are starting zone for the race of dark elves. We remind you that attacking friendly NPCs or other players in starting locations is prohibited. You can leave a starting zone anytime by passing through the Origin Gates and entering a suburb of Ellorian, the dark elf capital. However, the administration strongly advises against doing this before your character reaches level 10, since you will not be able to return. Get your first quest from Mentor Almaren. His location is indicated on your map.

  The guide said you should never leave starting zones before reaching level 15, the highest that could be achieved there. The enormous amount of people in the outside word would inevitably make leveling a great deal harder. Max glanced toward an enormous tree that served as the local town hall. There were two sullen elves standing at the entrance, level 50 each. Max sighed heavily. He surely wanted to find Alyona as soon as he could, but what was the next step? He needed to be able to protect her. What could he do now, having never played games of this sort before? Any kid would know tons more about these things than he. Therefore, he grudgingly swore to himself to follow the guide's recommendations.

  According to the author, one needed around five days to get to level 15. He was prepared to spend this time here. According to Alyona, she was already level 21; however, leveling up was anything but easy here, so she was unlikely to get too far ahead. As for experience, he was nothing if not tenacious. Nothing ever came easy to Max. He was twenty one when his mother died, and he managed to find the resolve to keep on practicing his swimming, then graduate from the Moscow Power Engineering Institute, which he had gotten into without any connections or privileges, summa cum laude. This was followed by six years of slaving for a company. At the age of twenty eight he invested all his savings into a business of his own. Now he had to work even more, and it wasn't his fault when the company he had founded went bankrupt. A week later his wife left him, and the young man suddenly realized there was hardly anything to his life but his work. He suddenly discovered that his school friend Roman—and Roman's beauty of a sister, whom he saw often since the two lived in the same apartment block—were the most important people in his life. His feelings for Alyona had long gone beyond mere friendship, so it didn't take him long to decide. When his friend called him to report he'd gotten stuck in some godforsaken gaming plane, Max had already made up his mind.

  After talking to Roman's aunt, he called his ex and told her he was leaving the real world for the game. Then he smoked half a pack of cigarettes in the kitchen, building up his courage, and then, finally, got into the gaming capsule...

  "Why so gloomy, boys? Come celebrate with us!"

  Max's recollections were interrupted by a tall and slender elven maiden that stood about fifteen feet away. She looked just like an anime character—regular people's eyes re never so large or so green. The picture was complemented by D cups and incredibly long and slender legs. The girl spoke with a slight accent. The game used a single common tongue, translating into it from a large number of other languages, but players opined that native speakers of different languages could still hear a slight accent in non-natives' voices.

  "Thanks, gorgeous," his eyes stopped for a second on the two undone top buttons of her blouse that revealed the girl's cleavage in the most tantalizing way. "I just got here. Gotta get my thoughts together. Maybe later..."

  "Suit yourselves," the girl snorted, eyed Max's neighbor, who never uttered a word, and turned around sharply, heading for another nearby group of young men sitting o
n the grass with spring in her step.

  "I could get used to this," said Max, his eyes following the girl.

  "Indeed," his taciturn neighbor finally spoke up, his thousand-yard stare fixed on the clearing where new players kept emerging from the golden fog, alone and in small groups. They turned up on the grass in different postures, stayed motionless for a while, then rose, and walked away shakily.

  So, what about those stats? Max could see his neighbor's reluctance to get on with the conversation, so he reopened his character's options screen.

  Agility: 1.

  Strength: 8.

  Constitution: 8.

  Vigor: 1.

  Spirit: 1.

  Intellect: 1.

  HP: 80.

  Energy: 10.

  Mana: 10.

  Just like it said in the guide. His first skills would only appear once he'd reach level 10, so he didn't really need energy for anything save running so far. Strength and constitution are much more important now, so I'll just walk for the time being, he grunted and checked the inventory bag. Mm-hmm. The rusted lump of iron inside (the so-called Apprentice's Sword) with 3-7 damage could only be called a sword in the most general sense of the word, whereas Apprentice's Round Shield was more like a lid from a barrel with pickled herrings. But then, his clothes (a shirt, trousers, boots and belt) didn't look any better. All that junk combined gave a +35 bonus to armor and allowed to ignore five percent of incoming physical damage. Max rose and tried to swing the sword a few times. The result left much to be desired. No matter—weapon skills would come once he'd invest some talent points. The time on the clock was 9:30 AM—he had the whole day ahead, and he needed to make it as productive as possible.