by James Hunter
“Be sensible, Kaz,” Roark yelled, shaking Kaz to get his attention. “We’ve got to attack while the Jackal’s distracted. Stealth attacks are worth twice as much damage.”
“But that is our friend in there.” Kaz waved a thick hand toward the burning briar, which offered scant protection to the hero within. “Randy will die if we don’t help him!”
“We’ll all die unless we act now,” Roark snapped back. “We have a bloody job to do, Kaz. Casualties happen—you know that. It comes with the territory.”
The hulking Knight’s bottom lip trembled. “Kaz does not like this side of Roark.”
The words hit Roark like a punch to the gut. Without thinking, he’d echoed Danella. Casualties happen. It comes with the territory. Let’s not stick around and become the next ones. How often had she said as much to him when friends and contacts died, murdered at Marek’s behest? And how often had he bristled at her pragmatism in the face of such cruel, casual injustice? The advice wasn’t wrong, but it felt dirty somehow. Ignoble. There is nothing dishonorable in survival, Danella’s voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He swallowed the guilt and pushed ahead. “That’s an argument for another time, Kaz. If we fail, your quest is locked forever, and Randy will have been sent for respawn for no reason.”
The Greater Hellstrike Jackal reared back for what would certainly be its last strike. Already the thorny sphere was crumbling to ash.
Kaz wouldn’t look Roark in the eye, but he gave a scowling nod and hefted his Legendary Meat Tenderizer.
The angry Knight turned to go on the attack, but stopped suddenly. He squinted his huge eyes at the fire.
“What—”
Before the Jackal could pounce again, the fiery ball of thorns exploded, and the spiked shell of a Young Turtle Dragon backed out of the inferno, dragging Randy by the feathered wing.
Kaz’s eyes lit up, and Roark felt the weight of a thousand worlds drop away from his shoulders.
The Greater Hellstrike Jackal bellowed. Mac dropped the Arboreal Herald and squared off with the titan canine, roaring in defiance.
“Kaz, now,” Roark hissed.
With a sharp nod, the Mighty Gourmet shot toward the Jackal’s unprotected flank. Roark pulled free his spell sook and cast a pre-inscribed level 4 Ball Lightning spell. A sparking ball of green-white energy and plasma slammed into the creature’s vulnerable side where Roark had so painstakingly chipped away the hard exterior shell of cooled volcanic rock. Then, moving like a grasslands puma, he shot right and darted around to the opposite side of the Jackal.
As he ran, Roark pulled his Bow of the Fleet-Fingered Hunter and fired off a volley of explosive arrows. The tips had the same effect on the Jackal that they’d had on the stone Gargoyles of the Vault of the Radiant Shield. Each impact shattered chunks of lava rock and sent shards flying from the site. The first shot received a [x2 Stealth modifier] notice, but the rest counted for regular damage.
The Greater Hellstrike Jackal swiped its remaining tusk at Mac, but the Young Turtle Dragon disappeared. Roark caught the faintest shimmer of visual distortion as Mac returned to Randy and began pulling him away again.
Mystified, the Jackal drew back a paw to stomp on the inexplicably escaping Arboreal Herald. Before it could, a boom erupted from the creature’s flank—Kaz’s Running Power Attack eating through a significant portion of the Jackal’s Health.
The Jackal spun, clusters of eyes wild with desperation and fury. Kaz gave a wordless cry of rage and slammed his Legendary Meat Tenderizer into one of the sparkling ruby clusters. Red shards splintered and scattered across the floor. Blinded on one side, it stumbled and raged, listing madly from side to side. Kaz ducked under a frenzied swipe of its tusk and hit it in the jaw with a stone-crushing blow. Its Health bar flashed out a critical warning.
With a guttural shout, Roark let loose another wave of Infernal Thunder, knocking the creature to its knees. It lifted its head weakly and sent up an eerie keening howl.
Roark drew back another trio of exploding arrows and fired them at the beast with practiced ease. The subsequent blasts ripped enormous chunks from the back of the Jackal’s skull and stole away the last of its Health. The Greater Hellstrike Jackal slumped to the cavern floor, dead.
[Congratulations! You and your party have completed the quest The Lost Recipe of Gry Feliri with no casualties! You have earned 15,000 Experience as well as the rights to Gry Feliri’s Lost Recipe and 1 Unknown Gourmet Specific Item!
To claim the Recipe and Item: recover the lost page from the body of the dead chef before another member of your party.]
An ascending chime rang through the cavernous space.
Roark hadn’t earned a new level, but it wasn’t hard to figure out who had. Mac lifted into the air, golden light enveloping him in a brilliant halo. The bloodthirsty reptile hung there, legs dangling limply. He looked unsure about what was happening, but at the same time completely unconcerned. His long sticky tongue flashed out, licking a round eyeball. The golden light grew more brilliant by the second, morphing into a cloud of indigo power, which crackled with arcs of blue-white lightning.
After months and constant leveling, Mac was finally evolving into his next form.
Deep thrumming war drums filled the air as Roark, Kaz, and Randy all watched with bated breath, wondering what new form would emerge from the cocoon of light.
Finally, the light faded, and Mac dropped to the ground with a meaty thud, the next stage in his evolutionary transformation complete now that he’d reached level 38. A spidery line of text briefly flared over Mac’s head: [Adolescent Elemental Turtle Dragon]. The changes weren’t nearly as drastic as when Mac had undergone his transformation from a lowly Stone Salamander to a Young Turtle Dragon, but they were impressive all the same. His body looked longer, sleeker, than the plodding boxy form he’d been before, though an enormous shell still covered his back.
The spikes peppering his shell had changed, however. Now, they pulsed with a subtle blue-white light, little graceful arcs of lightning leaping from spike to spike in a dazzling display of energy. His serpentine dragon’s face remained much the same, though his beard had turned a shocking shade of blue and now hung nearly to his stubby knees. Curling horns had also erupted from his head, spiraling straight back toward his formidable shell. His long tail—oddly scorpion-like before—was gone, giving way to a graceful electric blue ribbon of scales that fluttered behind him, without ever touching the ground.
That tail reminded Roark of the colossal river tadpoles he used to catch as a boy. Silky as slime and as brilliant as the sun glinting off still water.
Without a word, Mac trundled over to Roark, impossibly silent as he moved, batted Roark’s leg with his blocky head, nearly knocking him off his feet, and nuzzled him as he chirped and crooned. A firm reminder that Macaroni remained Macaroni, no matter how large and deadly he grew. Roark reached out a tentative hand and ran his clawed fingers along one of the spikes, feeling the heady buzz of pent-up power resonating within. Mac had become an Adolescent Elemental, and even without seeing the silly beast in action, it wasn’t hard to guess what his new Elemental affinity was.
“I’ve never seen a mob evolve, real time,” Randy whispered, his voice the hoarse rasp of a man who had been dragged out of a burning home. “And the fact that we survived and that I reached level 41 isn’t half bad either!”
Mac turned from Roark’s side, waddled over to the singed Arboreal Herald, and nipped his arm affectionately.
Randy scratched the newly evolved Turtle Dragon’s scaly head. “Thanks for the assist, Mac. You saved my life. That’s maybe the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Roark glanced around the room until he found Kaz kneeling by a skeleton that wore a crumbling chef’s hat, yellowed with age.
“Did you find the recipe, Kaz?” he asked, joining his friend.
Kaz nodded and reverently removed the page from the remains, along with a small stone jar. Something inside t
he jar jingled softly.
“The last of Gry Feliri’s specially cultivated Five-Alarm Chili Pepper Seeds,” Kaz whispered. His eyes shone. “What a great responsibility!” He hugged the jar to his broad chest. “Kaz will grow them as if they were his own Changelings.”
[A member of your party has claimed the Lost Recipe of Gry Feliri and the Seeds of Gry Feliri’s Five-Alarm Chili Peppers. To claim the items for yourself, challenge your party member to single combat.
Challenge party member for Lost Recipe of Gry Feliri and Seeds of Gry Feliri’s Five-Alarm Chili Peppers? Yes/No]
Disgusted, Roark selected No. He doubted Randy would be underhanded or greedy enough to challenge Kaz for the quest reward, but he kept an eye on the Arboreal Herald until he was certain the hero had dismissed the suggestion as well. He’d been double- and triple-crossed often enough to never let his guard down completely.
“Definitely going to invest some of these in Con,” Randy said, clearly looking over his character page. “Heralds’ bird bones break way too easily.”
Satisfied Kaz would keep the items uncontested, Roark turned to the body of the fallen beast. Unlike its smaller brethren, the Greater Hellstrike Jackal contained a mound of loot. Several smithing components, dozens of Iron and Obsidian Ingots, three Flawless Rubies, three Cracked Rubies, and a few handfuls each of Ruby Dust and Diamond Dust.
Kaz screamed.
Roark closed out of the Jackal’s Inventory, heart hammering, and he drew his rapier and dagger.
“What’s wrong?” He searched the room for the threat.
“Gry Feliri’s Dump Truck Pizza!” Kaz swooned. “It is even better than Kaz could have dreamed! A circle of dough, red sauce that contains both garlic and salt, copious amounts of cheese, and something called toppings!”
“Toppings?” Roark asked, stowing his weapons.
“Yes.” Kaz nodded enthusiastically. “So, so many toppings.”
Seeing that Kaz had completely misunderstood Roark’s confusion, Randy chuckled. “It’s basically what it sounds like. Foods you cut up into little pieces and top other foods with. For pizza, that’s usually meats and vegetables.”
Roark grunted. To him food was food, whether you cut it up and put it on other kinds of fare or just ate it like it was. But if the recipe made Kaz happy, then he was glad the Mighty Gourmet had found it.
He went back to the Greater Hellstrike Jackal and finished looting its corpse. There was the piece he had been so excited about—a Flawless Greater Hellstrike Transmutation Core.
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Flawless Greater Hellstrike Jackal Transmutation Core
Rarity: Tier 6, Flawless
Creature Core Level: 62
Durability: Degrading
Half-life: 71:59:59 hours remaining
Notice: Flawless (Tier 6) Greater Hellstrike Jackal Transmutation Core will degrade to Standard (Tier 5) Greater Hellstrike Jackal Transmutation Core if not implanted in a compatible host within its half-life. Once implanted in a compatible host, Durability status will be converted from Degrading to Stable.
Notice: Once implanted in a compatible host, the Greater Hellstrike Jackal Transmutation Core cannot be removed without destroying the Transmutation Core.
It’s what’s on the inside that counts... but sometimes what’s on the inside can significantly alter the outside...
╠═╦╬╧╪
He wanted desperately to rush back to the Cruel Citadel and begin experimenting with it, but he closed out of his inventory and helped Kaz and Randy sort through the rest of the cavern. The Greater Hellstrike Jackal had killed scores of heroes in its day. Weapons and armor were scattered around the cavern like litter, everything from low-level unenchanted wooden bucklers to a Legendary item glowing with brilliant green magick called the Bow of Whispers.
“Could you use this?” Roark asked, offering the weapon to Randy.
The Arboreal Herald’s eyes went wide. “Oh, wow, this thing is beautiful.” He reached up to touch the bridge of his nose, then pulled his hand back down. “I mean, are you sure? I didn’t do much except almost die.”
“You helped us every step of the way from the mouth of the cave until now,” Roark said. “And you’ve hardly taken any of the loot along the way. It’s the very least you should have.”
Randy’s face broke into a grin. “Well, I could use it.”
In a cracked urn, they found a pair of Peerless Gauntlets of Ultimate Swing, with an enchantment that doubled skill with Two-handed Weapons. Those went to Kaz, who was still in ecstasy over his new recipe.
Out of a pile of bones that had once been a warrior, Roark pulled a Rusty Gladius. He was about to add it to the weapons for low-level Changelings when he noticed the enchantment: +2 Undead Damage.
It was a pitifully weak weapon by itself, but if Roark took it back to his workshop and learned the enchantment, he could imbue it in everything he crafted from now on to fight Lowen and his Divine forces. Roark put it in his own Inventory for later use.
“Well, guys, this was really fun,” Randy said. He yawned and scrubbed at his eyes. “But it’s about three in the morning back in my world, and I have to work tomorrow. I think I’m going to head out.”
“We appreciate the help,” Roark said, grasping Randy’s forearm and giving him a hearty slap on the back. “I doubt we could’ve done it without you along.”
Never one to be stoic, Kaz picked up the Arboreal Herald in a wing-crushing hug.
“Thanks to Randy for helping Kaz and Roark recover the greatest recipe ever lost,” the Mighty Gourmet said. “Hearthworld’s taste buds will thank you.”
With a bewildered grin and slightly rumpled feathers, Randy patted Kaz on the shoulder.
“No problem. Let me know any time you need an extra man on a quest.” He shrugged. “Uh, well, see you guys.”
Without another word, the Arboreal Herald disappeared.
“We’d better get back to the Citadel, too, Kaz,” Roark said. “We’ve been gone for hours.”
The Mighty Gourmet raised the lost recipe in his fist. “Yes, Kaz and Roark must return home with the knowledge of glorious Dump Truck Pizza. There is much kickin’ joy and gangsta tastiness to be baked tonight for the enjoyment of the great Troll Nation.”
Roark shook his head as he popped open a portal scroll. “I don’t know what any of that means. Are you making up those words?”
“They are immortal words invented by the great Gry Feliri for when mere mortal mumblings are not enough,” Kaz said, his onyx eyes sparkling, “and they mean delicious.”
A Ration of Grief
SCOTT BAYANI SPAWNED in an upstairs suite at the One-Eyed Unicorn. Not long after he had joined up with the Griefer and his Troll crew, Scott had reset his OG’s respawn point there. The weekly rent on a room was outrageous, but he was rolling in the dough now, and it was a hell of a lot nicer than his crappy IRL apartment. The Unicorn wasn’t Frosty Ocarina fancy, but it had always been his favorite drinking spot in Hearthworld, so he might as well indulge while he had the gold.
The smell of hoppy beer and roasted meat drifted up through the creaky floorboards of the Unicorn, making his mouth water. He’d snarfed a couple greaseball Nachos Bell Taco Chalupacabras with extra Diablo Loco sauce on the way home from work, so he shouldn’t have been hungry, but the smells in Hearthworld marketplaces and taverns were specially formulated to get players to spend their gold.
Not like he had any of his gold on him, Scott realized, looking down at the Threadbare Loincloth on his High Combat Cleric’s ridiculously ripped bod. At least he wouldn’t have far to go to make his corpse run. For the third fucking time. That stupid goth ho and her ugly rog buddy were probably waiting downstairs—probably right underneath this very room—to gank him again.
Well, bitches, Scottie was back now, and he didn’t come to play. It was time to revenge kill some losers to death.
Crouching to activate Stealth, he crept across the hall to another room and opened the
wooden Chest of Drawers there. Everything inside was marked as Stealing even though no one was currently renting the room. His main’s good/evil rating was going to take a hit, but he didn’t have a choice. He equipped the basic Dented Plate Mail and a doofy-looking Initiate’s Cap. There weren’t any boots or gloves, so he was going to have to go without for now. He wasn’t going far anyway. Once he had all his gear back, he’d dump this mismatched trash on some fence in the marketplace. Or just dump it, period. It’d probably be smarter to get the hell out of Avery City before any other losers trying to get into Bad_Karma’s guild got a murder-boner for him.
There were exactly zero weapons in the rooms, and stuff like books and chests weren’t playable as blunt force objects in Hearthworld, so he would just have to keep his head on a swivel. He could cast most of his Clerical spells without his Magicka-amplifying rings and torques, so it wasn’t like he was defenseless.
Staying in Stealth, Scott inched down the stairs.
The Unicorn was running at about half its usual crowd, a dozen heroes scattered around drinking and talking, with the usual NPCs like the bartender hunkered down behind the counter and the pickpocket trainer leaning back at the shadowy table in the corner pretending to be asleep.
Scott didn’t see GothicTerror or Ya_Boy_Flappie_Sak anywhere. His headless corpse was over by his table, sprawled out on the floor next to an overturned chair. Some asshole funny guy had put his dismembered head facedown on his crotch like he was blowing himself. Fucking comedians. When he wasn’t getting got all the time anymore and had a second to breathe, he was gonna ask the bartender who did it. Then they would see real quick who the funny guy was.
Assured that nobody in the Unicorn was actively hunting him, Scott beelined for his body. The smartest thing to do would be to grab his shit and get the hell out of Avery City. Away from anywhere Karma’s guild had even the slightest foothold. At this point, that pretty much just left the Cruel Citadel. The shithead was basically everywhere else.
