by G. R. Cooper
The elf king presented Wulfgar with two gilded scrolls, four quivers of arrows, and a bag of coins. It looked like the rewards were for himself, Connor, and Corwin. He didn’t see anything that would interest Bael or the werewolves. He closed his inventory - he’d worry about how to split up the loot later.
Wulfgar looked back to the king, “My thanks, your majesty.”
“That is not all,” the king replied, “in addition to my irreplaceable son, you have returned the sword of my forefathers,” he held the silver sword into the sunlight. It flared in the glade and a hush fell over the gathered crowd.
“For this, I would grant you a boon.”
Wulfgar’s mind raced. He knew exactly what he wanted from the elves, but wanted to be sure to make the request exactly right.
“All I would ask of your majesty, of your people, is to be allied with my own.”
“Done.”
“You are now the ally of the Elf King!”
Wulfgar breathed a sigh of relief. The entire reason that he’d come here, to this forest, was now accomplished.
“But,” continued the king, “before I can grant what I know is your next request, to aid you in your coming fight, I must ask something of you, my ally.”
“Name it,” said Wulfgar, bowing, “and I will do whatever is within my power to grant it.”
“Our natural adversaries to the south, the dwarven lords, are ever threatening our borders,” he sighed.
Wulfgar hadn’t been aware that the relationship was so adversarial; he just assumed that the elves and dwarves disliked each other, and that was all.
The king continued, “And it would not be prudent of me, as the shepherd of my people, to leave my realm without protection while aiding yours.”
Wulfgar bowed again, understanding, “I will travel to the dwarves. To gain their assurance of peace.”
And their goddamn help in this war, as well, he thought.
“You have accepted the quest Suspicious Minds from the Elf King!”
Wulfgar and Connor rode easily, Corwin’s horse trailing behind, as they moved through the small hills and valleys that made up the Marchstone dale. He estimated that they would make the village by nightfall. In time for dinner. He wondered idly if Enquire Arenis or Heather the herbalist had arrived.
He flipped through the loot provided by the elven quest. To Connor he had given the arrow quivers and, while they were obviously of extremely high quality and workmanship, neither Wulfgar nor the ranger had the skill required to identify any other properties they might have. Lauren would have to take a look at them.
He smiled thinking of her. She was a ray of sunshine, full of good humor and positive energy. He had been lucky in all of his friends so far, and hoped that luck would hold with the desired influx of players to the village over the next weeks and months.
Eyes flicking through his inventory, he focused on the two scrolls - both thankfully marked. He read the first.
Alchemy (10). This skill provides the player the ability to use recipes for the creation of potions and access to those recipes that require the Alchemy skill. In some cases, the skill level adds to the potion level to determine the efficacy of the brew.
Wulfgar frowned. He already had the ability to create the Cure Poison potion. This seemed to imply that the Alchemy skill could increase the curative ability of whatever he made. Valuable.
He looked to the other scroll.
Veterinary (10). This spell gives the caster the ability to heal animals within sight. Damage heals at a rate of one (1) hit point per level of spell skill per second. Mana is drained from caster at one-half the rate of damage healed. Restricted to Morning. Cool-down 1 minute. Ingredients required: (1) Basil, (1) Feverfew, (1) Marigold.
Restricted to Morning, so that meant Galad. Wulfgar was glad to have something to give the player, and hoped that he didn’t already have the spell.
He looked to Connor, “Is it OK with you if we give the coins to Corwin, Nop and Gar to split?” He didn’t assume that Bael was interested in loot at all - being an NPC.
Connor nodded, “Sure. How much was it?”
Wulfgar opened the bag and thumbed through the coins, “Looks like eight gold and a handful of silver.”
“Not bad for a day’s work,” smiled Connor.
Wulfgar looked back to his inventory. He would have to add a few coins of his own to even out the payment to the others, depending upon how much the scrolls were worth. He pulled out the Alchemy scroll and unrolled it. It vanished as he read it and the knowledge leapt into his brain.
“You have gained ten levels in Alchemy!”
“You have learned the Alchemy recipe Strength!”
“You have learned the Alchemy recipe Intelligence!”
“You have learned the Alchemy recipe Agility!”
“You have learned the Alchemy recipe Mana Refresh!”
“You have learned the Alchemy recipe Superior Strength!”
He read through the description for each of those additional messages.
Strength Potion (1): Allows the creation of Strength potions. Drinking a Strength potion gives the player +3 Strength for four (4) hours plus ten (10) minutes per level over one (1). Recipe automatically granted at level 2 Alchemy. Buff potions cannot be stacked with the same effect.
Intelligence Potion (1): Allows the creation of Intelligence potions. Drinking an Intelligence potion gives the player +3 Intelligence for four (4) hours plus ten (10) minutes per level over one (1). Recipe automatically granted at level 4 Alchemy. Buff potions cannot be stacked with the same effect.
Agility Potion (1): Allows the creation of Agility potions. Drinking an Agility potion gives the player +3 Agility for four (4) hours plus ten (10) minutes per level over one (1). Recipe automatically granted at level 6 Alchemy. Buff potions cannot be stacked with the same effect.
Mana Refresh Potion (1): Allows the creation of Mana Refresh potions. Drinking a Mana Refresh potion gives the player five (5) times their current base Mana regeneration rate for ten (10) minutes plus ten seconds per level over one (1). Any other buffs for Mana regeneration are factored after the potion’s effects. Recipe automatically granted at level 8 Alchemy.
Superior Strength Potion (1): Allows the creation of Superior Strength potions. Drinking a Superior Strength potion gives the player +6 Strength for four (4) hours plus ten (10) minutes per level over one (1). Recipe automatically granted at level 10 Alchemy. Buff potions cannot be stacked with the same effect.
Each of those recipes came with an associated list of ingredients, as well as the steps required to manufacture them. Superior Strength, in addition to needing a higher skill level, required a larger amount of ingredients than the regular Strength potion. In some cases, he would have to heat the mixture for hours to complete the process. He hoped that the recipes scaled - so that he could create large batches of the tincture at a time and portion them out into jars. He assumed that each required a minimal amount to be effective. He would have to experiment once he got back to the town.
His mind was jerked away from Alchemy as a message flashed into his brain.
Danger! Danger! Hurry!
Wulfgar looked to Connor. The ranger seemed no different. He was riding as before, unconcerned.
“Did you just get a message?”
Connor looked to him, shook his head, “What message?”
“Danger! Danger! Hurry!” Wulfgar frowned, “It was like a voice in my head.”
“No, nothing at all,” Connor shook his head again.
“I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Me neither.”
Wulfgar thought for a moment. The what of the message wasn’t as important right now as the why. Whoever had sent the message needed help. Now. There was only one where that made any sense to Wulfgar. Marchstone village.
Without waiting for Connor, he leaned forward onto the horse’s neck and spurred his mount into a full gallop.
Wulfgar reined in his hors
e. Connor and Corwin’s horse pulled alongside. They were on the crest of a small rise, a few kilometers from the village. Wulfgar shaded his eyes and rose in his stirrups. The wind, slight and from the east, brought a smell like a campfire.
Smoke, black and roiling, rose from beyond another hillock.
From the village.
Wulfgar dropped back into the saddle and, without saying anything, spurred his horse back into a gallop.
As they sped through the dale, the smell grew stronger, the smoke higher. They finally leapt the small stream and entered the square. The inn was ablaze. Fire licked from the windows of the upper floor and smoke poured out of the door. A body lay in front, hacked horrifically.
Tim! he thought, looking frantically toward the wall for his nemesis and supporters.
“Wulfgar!”
He looked to the shout. Lauren was crouched, in between her shop and the one closest to the inn. He dropped from the saddle and sprinted toward her.
“Watch out,” she shouted, motioning him toward the shelter of the buildings. A ripple of shadows accompanied the low thunk as multiple arrows embedded themselves into the dirt of the square.
Wulfgar changed his course, moving perpendicularly away from the inn. More arrows hit the ground behind him. He jumped the last few meters and bumped to a halt against the building wall, next to Lauren, Snorri and the rest. Connor reached them a moment later.
“What is going on?” he asked, breathless.
“Orcs,” growled Snorri.
Wulfgar’s jaw dropped. Had there been another raiding party that they’d missed on their trek outward?
“Orcs,” agreed Glain, his dwarven brother nodding beside him. “They fell upon us. We were below. Excavating for the cistern. We hadn’t dug more than a piddling when we broke through, into what looks to be another cavern.”
“How the hell could that have happened?” Wulfgar wondered aloud.
Snorri laughed, “Don’t you read fantasy? Dwarves always delve too greedily and too deep. It’s a thing.”
“Yeah, thanks Gloin,” said Wulfgar sarcastically, frowning at Snorri.
“It’s Glain, your majesty,” corrected the dwarf.
Wulfgar smiled apologetically, “Of course. Sorry. Your crew. Are they safe?”
The dwarves nodded, “The orcs were as surprised as we. We beat a hasty withdrawal outside, with them hot on our tails. They managed to make a quick foray outside and overwhelm the inn. With your friends, we beat them off with no losses.”
Wulfgar looked to the body, “One loss.”
“A girl,” said the dwarf, dismissively, “No matter.”
“Maybe to you,” growled Wulfgar. Making up his mind, he sprinted to the inn. Arrows chased him as he skidded to a stop. He scooped up the girl and began running back to his friends. He looked to his right. The orcs had taken over the keep. The door was shut and presumably barred. Arrows shot from the darkened windows on each floor. He slid back in between the two buildings and, kneeling, gently laid the body on the ground.
It was Rosie. The barmaid.
He tried to heal her, but it was no use. The orcs had been too thorough.
Wulfgar frowned, “I’m sorry, Rosie,” he whispered. He looked up. A woman was looking at him, strangely. She was surrounded by children - the five of Wulfgar’s wolfpack and four or five others. They all huddled together. He looked to her character sheet.
Baker Belle. Level 13. Mender Chef.
Her hands were on the heads of two of the children. She didn’t say anything, just continued to watch Wulfgar.
He looked back down to Rosie. Pulling off the Cowl of the Wolf, he laid the cloak across her, covering her face gently. He looked around the corner, toward the keep. Arrows shot once more toward him. Angrily, he raised his right hand and launched a Fire Shot at the first of the missiles. It flashed into fire and streaked past his head, embedding itself into the wall of Lauren’s shop.
Moving swiftly across the alleyway, he pulled the flaming arrow from the wall.
“Bad idea,” he muttered, dropping it to the ground and stomping out the fire.
“What’s the plan?” he asked turning to his friends. They all looked up as Shannon, Schwartz and Bear all rounded the building from the northern, lakeside, part of the village.
Another wave of emotion flooded through Wulfgar.
Happy! Happy! Happy!
Bear jumped up and Wulfgar took the much too large dog into his arms and buried his face into its fur. He realized what the messages were. Bear must have beamed his first message when he saw the smoke. They must have been to the north. He looked to Shannon.
“Mind Speak?” he asked.
She nodded, “I managed to grind him up a level through some training while you were gone.”
He smiled. That was a talk for another time.
“Plan?” he repeated, turning to the rest of the group.
“None so far,” answered Snorri sheepishly. “We fought the orcs back into the keep and managed to get inside after them, but it was an ambush. There are a lot of them in there. We got our asses kicked. We all just resurrected when you got here.” The others were busy pulling equipment from out of the inventories where it had returned upon resurrection.
Wulfgar nodded, “I need to bind up at the church before I go rushing into anything,” he said, “Otherwise I’ll res back at the lake.” He looked over the group, they all looked back at him expectantly. While he thought through the problem, he leaned back out to look again at the keep. He launched another Fire Shot, this time at the door of the keep instead of the arrows that came in response to his peek.
Just before the missiles overwhelmed him, he saw his spell fizzle and die in mid-air.
He ducked back into the alley. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself. He scanned down his character sheet.
Fire Shot (3): Sends a directed ball of flame up to five meters from the caster (plus 1 meter for every level). Maximum size of the ball is determined by the skill level of the caster. The fire can only ignite and damage flammable objects. Maximum size = ((Spell Level + Magic Level)) x .1 meter). Damage depends on flammability of object. Damage continues until flame is extinguished. 09 Mana per cast. No cool-down. Ingredients required: (1) Goat’s Rue, (1) Motherwort, (1) Mountain Mint.
That was it. The range he currently had was only eighteen meters. The keep was probably around twice that distance.
Crap, he thought, that means that Fire Shot is going to be next to useless on the wall in the war. He pushed away any fantasy he’d had of launching fireballs at advancing troops.
He looked to Connor, “Start putting some arrows into that door. Get it burning.” He smiled ferociously as the ranger began stringing his Fire Bow.
He turned back to his waiting friends. Catcher was there.
Good.
“Catcher,” he began, “can you take Schwartz, Bear and RaNay to the roof of the keep. We’re going to hit them from two sides at once.” He looked to Shannon, “RaNay, do you think the three of you can manage the stairs. I just want you to scare the crap out of the orcs. Keep them busy while the rest of us go through the front.”
“After you bind at the church,” interrupted Lauren.
Wulfgar smiled, “I haven’t forgotten,” he said lightly.
He looked around, counting heads, “Where’s Galad?”
“In the mountains with Bael. They went to get some rare reagents,” said Lauren, “for uber healing and buffs.”
Wulfgar nodded and stepped back as he watched Bear curl into a ball behind Catcher. She lifted her carpet off of the ground and raised into the air over the building. He moved to the lakeside of the alley and continued to watch as she moved over the keep and settled onto the tower roof. After a few seconds, she lifted and flew back.
“Any problems?” he asked.
She shook her head, “No. The door’s closed. Bear is watching it.” She looked to Schwartz. The cat, twice the size of the dog and longer, curled around Catcher as sh
e scooted in the center. All eyes were on her as she repeated the procedure from before.
“Wish me luck,” smiled Shannon as she boarded the carpet for the third trip.
“Wait for our attack before you start coming down. Move slowly. You’re as much as distraction as anything else,” warned Wulfgar, worried for her.
She just smiled as the carpet lifted, “OK, but you’ve obviously never seen Schwartz in action. Those orcs are fucked!”
Wulfgar smiled as they flew away, “Catcher! Go ahead and stay with Shannon!” He didn’t think she would add much to the doorway assault. For that matter, he laughed inwardly, I’m not sure what use I’ll be.
The sorcerer nodded understanding and agreement.
Wulfgar looked back to Snorri.
“I’m going to go around the right. I’ll be the distraction. The rest of you,” he looked through Snorri to Corwin, Connor, the werewolves, and the dwarves, “go around the back of this house. Be ready to attack when you see the arrow storm come my way.”
He peeked back around the corner then ducked once more into the alley.
“The door is burning nicely. Good job Connor,” Wulfgar smiled as the ranger bowed, “You’ll be cover fire for the rush of the tanks.” He looked to Baker Belle.
“Mender. Healer, right?”
She nodded.
“OK. Wait here, watch the kids. Maybe move up to the outside of the keep’s door if it sounds like we’re making headway. We might need a quick heal or two.”
He smiled at the bard, “BeeBee. You any use in a stand-up fight?”
“Not much, I’m afraid.”
Wulfgar nodded, “Do what you can, when you can. If nothing else, be eyes for Belle’s back. Make sure nothing sneaks up on her.”
The musician nodded. Wulfgar idly wondered if the lute he found in Lilu’s storeroom would be of any help, then dismissed the thought for later worry.
Wulfgar watched as the raiding party moved through the alley and disappeared around the back of John Tailor’s shop. Baker Belle and BeeBee hurried in the other direction, ushering the children to safety into the back of Lauren’s shop.
He was alone - except for Lauren.
“You joining the rest of the attackers.”
