As we drew near the city’s walls, I marveled at the detail that had gone into the village’s defenses. The rough-cut stone of the wall curved away from us to either side, tracked by a road that separated the fields and pasture from the defensive structures. The gatehouse itself was considerably taller than the rest of the wall, and was echoed by smaller structures interspersed along the wall’s length, all staffed by men with conical helmets and bows, men who weren’t looking too enthusiastically over the broad assortment of uniformly dressed strangers entering their city.
And it was a city, I realized as I passed through the walls. No village could support the level of fortification on display. Mac and I were jostled through the gate by what had become a throng of players, and were thrust into a broad plaza ringed by shops, inns, and homes, packed to bursting with players.
A man in livery stood on the broad stone rim of the central fountain, calling directions to various features of the city. Anxiously, I approached. He was as realistic as anything else in-game.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where to get technical support?” I asked once he’d paused to take a breath.
“Craftsmen and technicians are located in the Guild Quarter,” he announced loudly, clearly intending to be heard by more than just myself. “Straight along the main road behind me and then south at the river!”
“Thank you,” I said, confused. “But I need to contact customer support! My login got messed up and I don’t have the starter quest or spells—”
“Mage’s guilds are North Quarter. Ask for direction at the central market, just straight along the main road! Merchants aplenty can be found there for your shopping needs!” He was starting to look annoyed.
“No,” I said, flustered. “I need in-game support. I need to talk to a—”
The man bent down close to me and lowered his voice. “Move along, simpleton!” he hissed. “I’ve no time for your nattering.”
Taken aback, I instinctively complied and moved past the fountain. That was some great voice acting, but how was it even possible to program the interaction I’d just had? The crier had looked at me with real contempt. Mac grabbed my shoulder, bringing me back to the present.
“Now that was some nasty AI," she observed. “No worries. Let’s head to the central market and ask again there. I want to unload these.” She patted her pile of furs. “We’ll keep our ears open and get our feet under us, and then we’ll see what’s what.”
I nodded assent and trailed after her, shaken, as she joined the press of people moving down the broad cobblestone thoroughfare.
When we reached the market, the crowd barely slowed, though merchants still called out half-heartedly. Mac hadn’t started with any money, and I assumed no one else had either. That being the case, the players who ventured deeper into the nest of stalls and tents didn’t stay very long. The first quest had a sizeable reward attached to it, and the majority of players seemed intent on first securing said.
Mac began wending her way through the tents and stalls, looking for a likely merchant. As we passed other shopping players—distinctive by their uniform garb—I began to notice rings on several fingers. It was distinctive gear for people I’d only ever seen with a pouch, a dagger, and one additional weapon, maximum, up to that point. I also noticed these were the only players who were buying anything.
“Is that a quest reward?” I asked a passing gnome, gesturing at the ring. She grinned, and splayed her fingers to show off her find.
“Yeah, plus five to whichever stat you want!” she piped. “And a gold piece! They said there’s more shopping on the other side of the portals, but I’m waiting for a friend.”
I thanked the woman, and she trundled off to do more shopping.
“Mac, are you sure you don’t want to get your gold first?” I inquired. “We can always come back.”
She shook her head. “I’m not in a hurry, and I thought you’d want to sell those," she said, nodding at my bundle of sticks.
“Ah, yes," I said. “Those.”
“Let’s try that shop over there. Those are wands on display, right?” When I hesitated, she once again put her hands on my shoulders and steered me over to stand in front of the merchant.
The merchant gave me a sympathetic look, which looked odd coming from a face with such prominent… features. He noticed me staring. “Too true, too right, good sir. Not many of us out this way, but I guarantee you my stock lives up to our reputation. We’ve got the finest in palliative care right here. We’ve got potions and tinctures for tending to wounds, and assorted goods for those who specialize in white magic.” He finished with a grin, smiling wide beneath his enormous green nose. “I see you’ve got some wands there. Are you looking to sell?”
Mac cut in, “We’d like to see your stock first, if we may.” I was a little shocked to hear her sound so polite, but I was grateful she was doing the talking. She was right; I had no idea of how my, uh, “twigs,” stacked up—let alone what I should sell them for.
The goblin shopkeeper waved us over to his selection and invited me to pick up a wand. Whereas my wands looked like branches I had picked up off the ground—largely because that’s exactly what they were—this wand had a smooth, carved pommel and a rounded tip. I examined its stats.
Shezzerack’s Wand of Insight — 120/120
A wand made for mending the greatest of wounds. Shezzerack’s wands are known for their durability and ease of use.
150 Intellect, 120 Wisdom Required
+10% to Healing Spells
+15 Intellect
+12 Wisdom
Suddenly, I felt I was wasting the goblin’s time. I replaced the wand, nonplussed. “That’s an impressive wand, but I’m afraid what I have to trade isn’t quite on the same level.” Mac elbowed me in the ribs as the goblin shepherded us farther down the line of wands. Here we stopped in front of wands that looked similar to mine: an assortment of knobby branches and twigs. Picking one up, I immediately felt more comfortable.
Poplar Wand — 10/10
A simple wand for casting spells.
+1 Intellect
This one was more my speed, almost identical to the wand Mac had thrown into the fire. The shopkeep quoted it at 5 silver and 8 coppers, and gave similar prices for the other more basic wands I examined. Out of curiosity, I asked the price on the first wand and learned that it cost just over 21 gold. That was fine; I wasn’t expecting anything near that for my wands. After murmuring my thanks to the shopkeeper, we moved to the desk at the front of the tent, where I laid out my wares.
I had made a total of seven wands during the night, and as I set them on the table Mac was finally able to see the stats. +1 Mana Regen. +2 Mana Regen. +10 MP. +20 MP. I saved the best for last. +1% Mana Regen. +2% Mana Regen. +3% Mana Regen. Earlier that morning I had tested to be sure, and the percentage increases to Mana Regen magnified the effects of Ether as well. I eagerly waited for the merchant to price them.
Clicking his tongue distractedly, the goblin examined each wand before making his offers. Given the pricing on the wands we had just perused, I was pleasantly surprised at how reasonable his offers were. Pleasantly surprised, at least, until he got to the percentage-wise wands. Those he priced abysmally low. When I protested, he pointed out that for the +1% wand, an owner would have to have over 100 Wisdom in order to make it equivalent to even a single point of Wisdom. That made the +3% wand barely the equivalent of the straightforward +1 Mana Regen wand for most users. I accepted his logic begrudgingly and sold all but the +2 Mana Regen wand which, not coincidentally, he had priced the highest.
The total came to an even 41 silver, on which I simply had to trust the man. A conversion rate of 37 coppers to 1 silver made the numbers impossible to do in my head, but he managed to make them come out nice and round. The friendly merchant also threw in a spare coin purse free of charge, seeing that I had nothing to carry my money in. The jingle as I walked, and the text that appeared to notify me that I had gained the Trade skill, had me
feeling pretty good as we stepped back out into the sunlight.
“Hey, Mac,” I started, “I want you to have this. I know it’s been a crazy couple of days, but it’s been nice having someone to…” I trailed off, holding out the +2 Mana Regen wand. “Anyway… thanks.”
“Aw, Zen, that’s so sweet! Now I feel just terrible laughing about how that goblin just fleeced the shit out of you.”
“What?” I asked, taken aback.
“He knew you weren’t going to buy a wand! He low-balled his own wands to make you think he was giving you a great deal on yours. You probably could have sold them for twice as much!”
Turning a little green, I considered that perhaps my Trade skill should be in the negative digits. “Oh, and I presume you’re going to do so much better with your still-smoldering pile of rodent fur?” I sniped back. “Who’s going to want equipment covered with scorch marks?”
Mac giggled—giggled!—putting her arm around me and pulling me close. I fully expected her to give me a noogie. “Oh, you’re funny, Zen. You’re funny. Just you wait; everyone loves a little ‘hot couture.’” She released me and gave me a brief serious look. “No, seriously. Thanks for the wand.”
Chapter 10
Can we talk about robes for a minute? When Mac facetiously recommended that I try some on at the clothiers, I could see the diabolical sparkle in her eye. She, like me, was envisioning one of those oversized cassocks that a Franciscan monk might wear. Zenzuck as Friar Tuck. I couldn’t imagine how anyone would be able to fight or run wearing such a thing, but at the mention of robes the tailor had run off to gather a selection. Mac laughed at my consternation as I watched the man go.
An hour of being fitted and fussed over later, my opinion on robes had changed. Though he had had me try on a few long ceremonial robes, the majority of what the owner had brought back had clearly been made with movement in mind. The cut I finally landed on was about the length of a waistcoat and was meant to be worn over an undershirt and a vest. I didn’t feel goofy, I felt authoritative. The fact that Mac had stopped making snide comments let me know she didn’t see anything worth criticizing.
By the time Mac and I left the market and re-entered the main thoroughfare, I was decked out. I missed zippers—and elastic waistbands—but altogether, the clothes felt good. I had managed to procure underwear, stockings, an undershirt, a vest, breeches, new boots, and the robes—the latter two pieces costing the most by far. Aside from the purely psychological effect of having underpants again, I thought I looked downright dashing. Perhaps the 2 points of Charisma the robe provided was already taking effect.
The thoroughfare eventually opened onto another large courtyard with a fountain, this one fronted by a large and majestic building in front of which players crowded. Before we had a chance to join the crowd however, Mac’s head swung around. “Namara! Namara! Over here!” a voice called from the edge of the crowd, and Mac searched for the source, her gaze settling on a gnome man perched atop the shoulder of what I had to assume was an orc woman.
Mac threw up her hand. “Katz! Me’Almah!” she called, then turned to me. “Let’s go meet my friends!”
Immediately, my stomach dropped, but I followed her through the crowd to the outside seating area that had been roped off for patrons of the tavern. My cheeks turned red upon seeing that the tavern was graced with the name The Full Goblette, and was advertised with a very crude illustration.
Ducking under the rope, Mac embraced the woman. “Me’Almah, it’s nice to see you! Rrrh!” she growled, squeezing the woman’s very large green arm. “You are a beast!” The woman simply grinned, putting her inches-long lower tusks on full display.
Mac turned to the gnome and grinned slyly up at him. “And look who’s the little tossabout! Ready to be someone’s pocket gnome, Katz?”
The gnome’s smile was long-suffering, but he responded in kind. “No, Namara, I was hoping more women would be wearing skirts!”
Mac scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Varba and Slynx?” she inquired.
Me’Almah nodded toward the interior of the tavern. “Caught up with them yesterday," she rumbled. “They’re inside.”
“We’ve been taking shifts watching for you since yesterday," the gnome chimed in. “Took you long enough.” He tapped the enormous green shoulder he was sitting on, and after Me’Almah helped him down he headed for the tavern’s entrance.
“Well, did anyone else get ganked on the way here?” Mac responded defensively, falling in behind the gnome. I followed in their wake, unsure as to whether I should.
The gnome grimaced at Mac. “Varba talked Slynx into a duel almost as soon as they spawned, but it didn’t last long. She says he squealed like a stuck pig when she landed the first cut, but I think she feels terrible. Real pain, huh?”
“Yeah. Real pain," she growled. “Some fucker took a piece out of me almost as soon as I spawned. Stabbed me right through the chest. Respawn took 8 hours, but I’ll be avoiding the dying more than the time lost.”
She broke off suddenly as she remembered my role in her respawn. “Holy shit, guys! I forgot to introduce Zen! Everyone, this is Zenzuck!” I waved, blushing from the sudden attention. “We came through the forest together. He’s pretty quick on his feet.” Turning even redder at the compliment, I ducked my head and stuttered out a greeting.
“Nice threads," Katz drawled admiringly and reached up to finger the lapel of my robes before vigorously shaking my hand. “Mage, then? What element?” I looked to Mac for help.
“Zen’s character got a little fubared, but in kind of an awesome way," she clarified. “You should see his Mana Regen. Anyway, let’s get inside and sit down. There’ll be plenty of time for introductions later.”
As Katz led the way inside, Me’Almah moved close, taking my hand in her large, rough palm and squeezing. “Nice to meet you, Zen," she said simply.
Inside the tavern, there was little hope of sitting. The place was crammed full of adventurers waiting for companions, looking for groups, and many seemingly just intent on getting drunk. Me’Almah parted the crowd for us as she and Katz led us over to a table in the far corner, where a dwarf and a goblin waited.
The dwarf was taking the jostling from the crowd in stride. The goblin sat with her back to the wall, making a show of her dagger to encourage the crowd to give her space. As we approached, the dwarf man stood and engulfed Mac in a hug. “Namara, it’s good to see you! We’ve been waiting!” He gestured for her to take his chair and she sat.
The goblin woman looked across the table and bared her teeth. “Sup, Mara?” she asked, pushing her mug across the table.
Mac took a swig, and a moment to savor it. “Well?” she announced on swallowing. “Let’s get this thing started!” The five adventurers grinned and leaned in, listening to Mac’s report on what had happened since she’d joined the game. Once everyone was caught up, each friend began to explain their character setups, accompanied by jeers and jabs from the others. Realizing I had never done it before, I examined their names. Sure enough, floating over Mac’s head was the name “Namara.” Blue text filled the air around me, hovering over every head. It was embarrassing that I hadn’t looked before, but at least it helped with memorizing names. Only the bar employees broke the pattern, with only generic descriptors spelled out in green text. I figured those must be NPCs.
There, surrounded by the cloud of inside jokes and the realization of how little I knew about Mac—no, Namara—I began to feel like a sixth wheel. It had been so easy to feel worthwhile when it was just Mac and myself on the road, struggling to get by. Now that I was surrounded by this crowd of friends that were obviously so comfortable with each other and so confident of their standing within the group, I began to feel more and more a hanger-on. As their plans moved toward concretion it became clear that their first order of business was going to be turning in the mayor’s quest.
It dawned on me as they talked that I didn’t belong there. Here was a group of confident, skilled players
who knew what they were doing. They had obviously planned in advance to group up and adventure together, and they had a clear direction. I, on the other hand, was just a kid, on the run from myself as much as anything, and they weren’t going to want anything to do with me. Even hearing the others call her Namara highlighted my status as an outsider. It was obvious I wasn’t considered part of the group.
And so, as the conversation progressed, I eased myself away from the laughing friends and into the general crowd of the tavern before turning and heading for the door. It hurt to leave Mac, but it wasn’t a feeling I was unfamiliar with. Deep into my funk, I resolved to find some form of in-game support. I might not be up to par for Mac’s party, but I’d need to be able to fend for myself at some point. I began working my way with the flow of traffic toward City Hall, away from Namara and her friends.
The scene would've been hilarious if I had been in any mood to laugh. Hundreds of faces, all moving in the same direction. Every human shade of skin, interspersed with green, red, and even purple, but each one bobbing along atop the exact same outfit as the face behind and in front of it. Darkly, I envisioned them as prisoners, dissidents making a forced march from one gulag to another, but the ubiquitous smiles ruined my morose fantasy.
As I moved through the crowd, I kept my eyes peeled for anyone in the red-and-white livery the town crier at the west gate had sported. Soon enough, I spotted one, waving and pointing to direct the flow of traffic. “Here to complete The Mayor’s Request! Here to complete The Mayor’s Request!” she announced. “Make sure to have your preferred stat chosen!”
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