by Shawn Wyatt
"How much can I make with a single crafting kit?"
"Around 15 to 20 shells, if you're good. And a bit lucky."
Not a bad price, I thought. Merchants sold low level Caster Shells for 10 gold each. If I could make my own for a fraction of the cost, it would reduce the financial burden--especially as I grew stronger and could craft more powerful Caster Shells. "I'll take one kit," I said.
"You'll get the hang of this in no time," she said. "Just don't expect to make them all perfectly your first time around. You might make a few shells that don't work exactly as you expect."
I nodded. That was standard. In MMOs, low-level crafters always made a few duds. "Do you have any weapon upgrades?"
"Well, there are quite a few on the wall, but they might be out of your price range. Take a look."
I strolled to the wall, a grin on my face. I had a lot of gold built up from quests we had completed. I could afford this.
One pair of pistols glowed with a dim illumination, all the brighter because of the gloom of the shop. The damage and stat boosts were unbelievable.
And so was the price.
"250,000 gold? How can anyone afford that?"
The woman laughed. "They can't," she said. "That's why those haven't sold. Even the cheapest weapons we have are 7,000 gold or more."
I hung my head. "I'm going to be stuck using a beginner's weapon forever," I said. "Oh well. Thank you for your help in creating Caster Shells."
"You can thank me by coming back when you need equipment," she said. "I don't see many Marauders. Toris is not where most of them spend their days."
I nodded. I'd noticed the same thing.
Bastion and I stepped out of the tent into the bright sunlight. "That was impressive," he said. "I need to pick up a crafting skill of my own."
"Got anything in mind?"
"I'm leaning toward armor crafting. Something to help make gear that would be useful and protect people," he said.
"I'm sure someone in this market place teaches that," I said. Sundials dotted the marketplace, mounted on a pole so the sun's light could reach them. "It's just five o'clock, so we have time to kill before we met Evey at the Gilded Boar. By the way, about those grinding groups...did you work with any of them before you joined up with us?"
"No, they were too cautious for my liking," he said.
"Too cautious? How can someone be too cautious in this game?"
"They backed off at the first sign of damage. The fear of death and all, I guess. I would fight until my HP was near zero, so I grinded alone."
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. Bastion's face was a mask of determination, but I could could see what I thought was a glimpse of hope in his eyes that had not been there before.
"What was that like?" I asked.
"Oh, it hurt. It hurt a lot." Bastion laughed. "I was too full of anger to care, but in hindsight, yeah. That was not pleasant."
"What was the closest you ever came?" Bastion had not been open about the time between meeting us and the death of his girlfriend. I wanted to keep him talking.
"I dropped to just three hit points once. That was the closet I ever got. Without the pain inhibitors, that really sucked. I could barely think to cast a healing spell on myself. The moment I did, though, a lot of the pain faded."
"Evey and I noticed the correlation between HP and pain, too. And there seems to be no bleeding out."
"Oh, it's possible," Bastion said. "It works like a debuff. It only happens with slashing attacks, at least as far as I've seen."
"So it can be removed with a cleansing ability?"
"No, you have to heal through it. It's almost like an HP bar on top of your HP, except it constantly drops and doesn't disappear until you heal it to full."
I shuddered at the thought. The damage I had taken in combat hurt enough. I didn't want to experience a bled effect.
We found the armor coat. The vendor specialized in everything from leather and cloth armor to plate mail. The man behind the counter had the harried, pinched-faced look of someone with too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it all.
At Bastion's request for training, the man gave a terse reply. "I don't have the time. I don't even have the time to fulfill all the orders I already have. Look, there's a stack of books on the shelf to the left. Take them. Study them. You can learn what you need to there."
"What would I owe you for that?" Bastion asked.
"You can pay me by getting out of my way and out of my shop," the man said.
"And where do I find ingredients?"
"Get. Out." The crafter bellowed this last part. Bastion did not argue. He took a handful of the books and left with me hot on his heels.
"I guess we'll have to find another vendor for the equipment and parts," he said.
We spent the rest our our downtime wandering the market and gathering the required components. As dusk fell, we made our way out of the market place and to the less crowded but significantly louder Central Ward where the Gilded Boar was located.
Evey leaned against the building across the street from the tavern, a book in her hand. Boris lounged on the ground beside her. At our approach, she glanced up and started to laugh. "Did you boys have a fun day of shopping?"
I scowled. Bastion and I had not yet put the items away, so we both carried armfuls of components. I glanced at him, and he nodded. He dumped his load into my arms, opened his inventory, and shoved the components inside.
The one element of the virtual world I never lost gratitude for was the inventory. The space might have been limited, but we could always find what we sought and we did not need physical space to keep everything.
"Come on," Evey said. "Sounds like a lot of fun inside."
She was right. From where we stood, music drifted out the open door with the sound of raucous laughter and heated conversation.
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE GILDED BOAR
Rune had been right. The atmosphere inside the Gilded Boar hummed with energy, far more exuberant than the city had been in the first three days. Adventurers sat at every table, many drunk beyond recognition. Conversation consisted of guttural sounds that took the place of words, spoken from wine-swollen tongues.
A few of those seated near the door turned to see who had entered and sent up a cheer of welcome that made its way round the rest of the tavern. One of the players near the door raised a glass of ale in greeting. "Welcome!" he shouted. "Find an open seat, sit down, and order some ale. In fact, you know what? First round's on me." He waved over a waitress, put a few gold pieces in her hand, and pointed to the three of us.
Evey had told Boris to stay outside. Given how crowded and drunk the adventurers were, she didn't want to cause a stir by bringing him inside, despite mine and Bastion's insistence that giving Boris wine could be fun.
We found an empty table in the center of the room. The previous occupants had apparently passed out where they sat and had been hauled upstairs to sleep it off. A waitress appeared and snatched up the empty ale mugs and hurried them into the back. When she opened the door to the kitchen, the smell of roasted meats and fresh baked bread assaulted our noses. My stomach growled.
Bastion laughed. "You must be hungry if I can your stomach over all this noise," he said. "Not that I blame you. It's been a while since that sweet potato."
"Let's get some food before we discover if you can starve to death in this game," I said.
Our waitress approached the table, a long-legged Elven girl that looked like an RPG nerd's fantasy. She battered her eyelashes and gave us a demure smile. "Welcome, friends. What can I get for you tonight?"
The flirtation had not gone unnoticed. I suspected her tips would pile to the roof as more adventurers heard about this place. "Just a flagon of ale and whatever it is that smells so good from the kitchen for me," I said.
Bastion and Evey echoed my sentiment.
The waitress swaggered away--literally swaggered--her hips swaying from side to side. Evey rolled her eyes. "C
an you believe that?" She asked. "I"m surprised some of the players here are not throwing gold at her."
"Most probably think she's just an NPC. An attractive one, sure, but still an NPC."
"Isn't that exactly what she is?" Bastion asked. "She's no different than those soldiers."
"And how hard did you work to keep those soldiers alive?" I asked.
"That's different," Bastion said. "It's a quest."
"Is it?"
"Well, one of the men talked about how eager he was to see his wife and kids. I couldn't just ignore that."
"Exactly. They may be NPCs, but as far as I can tell, they don't know that."
"Ren's right. When we rescued the girl from the village, I saw genuine sorrow on the face of our wagon driver and Hammond. Call it top-tier programming all you want, but I refuse to believe it's just that."
Bastion looked thoughtful. "I'm skeptical. But I've noticed some of the same things. The more time we spend here, the more realistic the NPCs become."
"It isn't a stretch to say a player could convince the waitress to go home with him. After all, a lot of other full dive games include brothels, although they're usually locked behind an age gate."
"That's true, and I don't see any reason why it would be different here. Not when you consider how lifelike everyone is," Evey said. She looked between the two of us and down at her own hands. "This body in game is a near perfect copy of my body in the real world. I can't tell a difference. And we're more than ones and zeroes."
The waitress returned with three plates of food. She sat them down in front of us and gave us the same smile from before. "Enjoy," she said.
As she walked away, I noticed several surrounding tables watched her go. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the change in the atmosphere wasn't because of some shred of hope that crept into the city. Maybe the CHIP had just figured out hormones.
"I can't believe how good this is," Evey said. "The bread is so fresh and soft."
Bastion nodded. "It's hard to find food this good in the real world, especially if you have to cook it."
"You cook?" I asked.
"I dabble. I"m not great, but I'm not that bad either."
"Then I'm designating you cook for the party," I said. "No objections? No? Okay, motion passed. Done."
"I can try, but remember that cooking is a skill in this game. I don't know what kind of restriction a low-level cooking skill might place on what I can make."
"Or maybe it just means you'll level up your cooking skill that much faster because of your real talent," I said.
After that, we fell silent as the three of us tucked into our food. Evey was right. The food was delicious.
A commotion outside the door interrupted my train of thought. A player stumbled in and complained about the bouncer outside. The same player that greeted us when we came in shot the newcomer a confused look. "Bouncer? What bouncer?"
"The bear. Creative idea, yeah. But he's staring everyone down as they approach."
From behind me, I heard Evey mutter under her breath. "Uh oh."
Several players stood and went out the door to investigate. It only took a few seconds before their surprised shouts reached the inside of the tavern. And then the entire situation went to hell.
Some players drew their weapons. Others looked confused. We heard an annoyed roar from Boris, as well as the shouting of several players.
I looked at Evey. "Should we do something, or let Boris handle this?"
She shook her head. "I'll take care of it." She jumped onto the table and let out a shrill whistle.
In seconds, Boris bounded through the door and knocked players left and right. He slid to a stop at our table and sat down in the center of the pathway between the tables, his gaze locked first on Evey, then on the food.
"Boris, calm," Evey said.
She glared at Bastion and I. We couldn't help her through the tears of laughter.
Wounded players made their way back into the tavern. Most took their defeat at the hands of a hungry bear with good mannered cheer, but a few were more upset than the rest. They glared at Boris and, when one started to stomp toward us, I held up a hand.
"You don't want to do that," I said. "The city guard doesn't permit fighting in the city. They'd lock you in prison."
"I could kill the bear before they got here," the player said.
I looked them up and down. "You're a level 7. Boris is level 13. He would wipe the floor with you, and that's assuming Evey didn't turn you into a human pincushion before you reached the table."
I looked over my shoulder. Evey had already drawn an arrow and twirled it between her fingers. "See what I mean? We like the bear. You mess with him, you mess with all of us."
The player scowled, but turned and left the tavern. One of his friends, a Dervish that still missed a quarter of his HP from his brawl with Boris, shook his head. "Don't mind him. He's always short tempered, and he really hates to lose. Your bear is strong. I tried to attack it from behind, but he whipped around and charged me. Slammed me into the wall. I didn't realize he was a Beast Tamer's pet. I am sorry if he was injured in any way."
Evey looked at Boris. He sat on the floor with his eyes glued to her plate of food. "He's fine," she said. "And I doubt he would even remember you or your friend at this point. Which is probably for the best. If he remembered, he might try to eat you later."
The player blanched, and I bit down on the urge to laugh. Good to see that Evey had a mischievous side.
"Are you with the grinding groups?" I asked.
"I am. Name's Line."
"Pleasure. Any chance you'd be willing to provide information about what you've seen in the forest?"
"Only if you do the same," he said. "Hold on and I'll call the rest of the group."
Within a few minutes, the rest of Line's grinding group had gathered around a large table in the center of the tavern. Most had passed the point of sobriety hours ago. Thankfully, Line was able to translate the drunken slurs of his comrades.
"Have you noticed anything different about the monsters you've encountered?" I asked.
"Yeah. They're getting uglier." The comment met with a roar of laughter. "I think their strength is tied to their ugliness," the player continued. "Seems the worse they look, the harder they hit."
"That jives with what we found," Bastion said.
The player shot us an appraising look. "So...you guys trying to form your own guild?"
"No," I said. "We're just a party." I hadn't even thought about guilds.
"All of the grinding groups in the city have been talking about forming a guild," the player said. "You three are welcome to join up if you like. You're the highest level players we've seen yet."
"Considering we aren't that high level, that's saying something."
"Well, give it some thought. Now maybe return the favor and fill us in on what you found?"
Evey, Bastion, and I told the gathered players what had happened between the airship landing and the outlying villages. Their faces grew solemn when they heard the news. Rune had walked into the tavern unnoticed.
"That doesn't make any sense. I started in one of those villages," he said. "It's where the teleport threw me. Doesn't make any sense for a game to destroy its own infrastructure."
"I know. So either this game is unlike anything any of us have ever played, or there is something else at work behind the scenes."
The first rays of dawn began to break over the city before the conversation ended and we retired to our rooms. Line and Rune had given us a decent amount of low-level components we could use to practice crafting. Several members of their grinding group already had higher level crafting abilities as a result of their time fighting. All in all, they didn't know much more than we did, but they had seen a larger variety of monsters than we had so far. We had to be prepared for our journey to the Sacred Grove.
The next day, we all stood in front of the Forest Gate. The massive structure had been constructed from a single tree trunk, t
he carved arch through its center all that separated the city from the forest outside. The ramparts stood as tall as the trees, their base supplemented with stones the size of boulders. A wrought iron gate could be raised and lowered as needed.
Given the deteriorating situation outside the city, the gate remained closed until travelers needed to pass through it. Just inside the gate, a small city of tents had sprung up. The frequency of monster attacks and incursions had reached a point where none of the guards could leave their post for extended periods. All men had to stay close at hand so they could respond as needed.
The number of soldiers that lay inside the makeshift infirmary spoke volumes about the extent of the attacks. The situation had not grown serious enough to call in the army, but the guards had taken a beating.
Constant attacks had made the men wary, but had not broken their spirits. Off duty guards sat around tables, ate their breakfast, and boasted about their latest scars. One man stood and pulled his shirt down to reveal a newly-healed wound. He illustrated how he got the injury with wide gestures.
"I slammed down me shield, but it wasn't enough to stop him. The beast charged straight through it. The wood barely slowed him down, and he got me right here." He slapped his chest and winced. "Not quite healed yet, but it won't slow me down."
Other men had not fared so well. Several lay on carts, either unconscious or writhing in pain. We approached the gate and nodded to the guard. The man raised it, but called out as we passed. "Be careful out there. Monsters have taken to roaming in packs. I take it you're going to Nyfed?"
I nodded. "Anything you can tell us about the journey there?"
"You won't make it in just one day. Maybe not even two. It depends on how quickly you move and how much resistance you encounter. And be wary of abandoned campsites. Travelers in these parts leave no trace. If a camp site is abandoned, it's that way for a reason."
"Thanks," I said. "I'll keep an eye out."
The man started to speak, but paused for a moment. "One more thing. Watch the shadows?"
"What? What's in the shadows?"
"No, no, it's not what's in them. The shadows themselves are dangerous." He glanced around and lowered his voice. "The darkness changes creatures when it touches them. Swarms of fireflies changed from small insects to large, blood-sucking monsters in what seemed like seconds. The shadows are alive."
