Killigan's Copse, East Fander Field

 

 

Taking a break from my lumber gathering, I glance at the promotion notification and note the absence of a World Announcement. I suppose that means that I've been overtaken, but it's hardly a surprise. It's also not a bad thing, since from the start my objective was the materials rather than a mad dash to the peak of the Gatherer community.

Taking a quick look through my inventory, I've managed to just about fill up all but a couple of free slots. More than I actually needed, if I'm honest, but there is a quiet charm in repetitive manual labour that arrests the mind.

Frowning, I dodge sideways, a small throwing knife lodging in the bark of the tree behind me with a dull thunk.

Took him long enough to show up.

In spite of his brash personality, the Scout does not do anything hasty, remaining both quiet and out of sight. No doubt looking for another opportunity to strike or a chance to reposition.

Squinting, I see a faint outline of a person dart from behind a tree ahead of me around to my left flank, stopping behind another as the Skill presumably ends. The Scout's Camouflage, huh?

Fortunately, with my frankly ludicrous Perception with the Monocle equipped, the move is completely useless.

Swapping my Lumber Axe for my Zweihander, I start to take a few steps toward his original hiding spot, before snapping around and charging at his current location, "<Rush>."

Activating the buff between strides to prevent the sudden acceleration from tripping me, I arrive at the shocked Scout's hiding spot and swing for his legs in the same motion, "<Swift Strike>!"

Activating both skills in combination leaves the ordinarily faster Scout with little room to avoid my blade, the tip gouging through his thighs in a thin line. Howling in pain, Irikis collapses to the floor, madly scrambling backwards before one of his flailing calves gets nailed into the ground by my sword, locking him in place.

Irikis writhes in agony, "Fuck man! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck that hurts that fucking HURTS!"

Expressing no sympathy, I equip my Lumber Axe, and rest it on my shoulder, staring down the whimpering Scout, "I asked you a question last we met. I have yet to hear an answer. I believe you should have enough HP left to survive an amputation or two. So, I'll ask just one more time: What do you know about the future of this game?"

Gritting his teeth, Irikis glares at me, "You're a fucking psycho, you know that?! Fuuuuuck it hurts..!"

Threateningly, I heft my axe a little off the shoulder. His face pales, "Alright alright! I'll talk."

No doubt he's already tried to discretely log out, but so long as the game has him flagged as being 'in combat/immediate danger' the only way out of his predicament is to be forcibly kicked from the server. With my sword stuck in his leg, he's stuck here until I see fit to let him go.

Taking a few deep breaths, Irikis explains, "I-I don't know why I know, alright? I was just walking north when th-this image flashed through my head. Saw a guy I know opening the door. So, I figured why not check it out? That's it, man! That's all!"

Nodding, I give one last warning, "I don't want to see you again. Is that clear?"

Irikis nods rapidly in agreement.

"Then I'll send you on your way. Hold still if you don't want it to be messy."

Taking the haft of the axe, I swing it down at Irikis' neck, cleaving it from his torso. He doesn't even have time to process what's happening before his head bounces off. Better a quick death than being forced to crawl his way back to the City, and it'll reinforce the point.

You have killed Irikis Falk.

Irikis Falk is Infamous.

Awarding 401 Experience.

 

 

That's an unexpected bonus. Looks like Mr Falk has been a very naughty boy if he's been tagged as Infamous.

Ordinarily, killing another player will, at most, net you a chance at some of their valuables. But killing too many in a short period of time will cause you to accumulate Infamy, with each level of Infamy giving you access to certain benefits with criminal and Evil-aligned NPCs and things like increasing the chance of a victim dropping something. But it also increases the value you have to other players, as they will get scaling rewards for taking you down depending on how high your Infamy has gotten. Kill enough people over a period of time, and your Infamy can become permanent.

There's more to it, but not until RotA, which causes a war to explode between bounty hunters and PKers.

Unfortunately, the experience is all I'm getting, as it doesn't look like Irikis dropped any of his items. He'll just pop back up at the last church he visited with one less level after the mercy period for someone to resurrect him ends in five minutes.

All that said and done, he came at a great time, since it's time to head back to the city to get all this lumber processed. Pulling my sword out of the corpse's leg and wiping off the blood with a clump of grass, I sheath it and leave the Copse behind after splitting my 10 free attribute points from levelling up between Strength and Agility equally.

---

 

Tridor Plaza, Meteo City

"City Hall appreciates your continued support, Citizen."

Handing off another Donation Crate filled with Simple Blue Charms, I leave the Captain to her business of standing in place all day and start making my way back over to Stone Arsenal.

I realise I'm not supposed to be meeting Henna until later, but I've money to burn and smithing proficiency to train. If I can get to 3-Star Novice, I'll be able to start working on another Donation Crate a day, but it's a lot pricier to fill to capacity thanks to the extra materials involved and I really don't have the bag space for it at the moment.

Walking by, I spot a gaggle of Fighters clamouring for Gragg's attention, the Mentor absolutely lapping it up with an utterly disgusting smile.

"Please, please, my adoring students and customers-to-be, I am but one man down on his luck! Ha ha ha! Form a line and I shall see to all of you, I promise!"

Doubly glad to have found him earlier now. I'd hate to be one of those players with how big the crowd is getting.

---

 

Approaching the turn-off point for a sidestreet close to the open-air market, I jump back to avoid a thick, muscled arm shooting out and swiping at where my head was about to be. The ambush a failure, a large, balding Firm man with a pudgy face dashes out with a knife pulled back behind him for a lunge. Activating Rush I put a few extra steps of distance between us and rapidly pull out my zweihander before the buff duration ends, assuming a defensive stance to receive the charging thug.

Not smart enough to realise the situation, the thug mindlessly runs at me, only for his piddly reach to be his ultimate undoing. The moment he's in range, I lunge forward and impale the idiot through the throat with the tip of my blade, then retreating a step back and resume my stance as he clutches his profusely bleeding throat, gurgling as his body collapses to the floor.

Opportunistic Thug slain

Awarding 140 experience points.

Quick and clean, I feel like I'm finally getting used to the delay between thought and movement thanks to the high tension situations of the past hour.

"Whoa, what the hell was that, man?!" A few players nearby are stunned by the sudden combat.

Cleaning the blade, I shrug at them, "Quest."

"What Quest is it?" A Silva man asks.

My response is blunt, "Secret. Excuse me."

Not to be dissuaded, he jogs up alongside me, "Come on man, do you know how hard it is to find a decent Quest around here?"

I give him a rather pointed look, "Yes. You answered own question, there."

"I can help! Come on, man, share and share alike!" his voice is getting a little desperate.

"If you can find it on your own, you're welcome to assist me, but otherwise, I don't need the help at this stage."

"What's your name?" the Silva asks as I start to melt into the crowd, "I'm Jupiter Trail!"

"Silver Nosster," I wave goodbye and push my way into the market.

---

 

Jupiter

"So, Bronzeguy is Silver Nosster, huh?" I muse to myself, "Interesting."

It's too bad I couldn't get him to tell me about that cool Quest of his, but with who that was and how cagey he was being, it has to be something pretty big. I was just about ready to give up on this joke of a game, but this positively reeks of adventure.

Yeah. He said if I found it he'd work with me, right? So it's not restricted on who can do it, but it's pretty well hidden. I see, I see.

Leaning against the wall of a building, I wonder about where this Quest might be hiding. Before long, I hit upon a novel idea that just might work.

"He's a pretty famous sight around Meteo, right?" I mumble aloud, "If I find out about his movements, maybe I can trace his steps to the Questgiver."

Just like that, a gleeful chuckle rises up from my belly, "Challenge accepted, Bronzeguy!"

---

 

Stone Arsenal, Meteo City

The forge outside is busy with players looking to speak to Henna when I arrive, and she looks rather annoyed by all the attention she's getting, "If you want to buy somethin' then go into the shop and I'll handle you when I'm done with this, otherwise, sod off! I'm working!"

Under her cool glare, a few weak-hearted players wilt away and leave, while most of the rest take the hint and push at each other trying to enter the shop's single door at more or less the same time, shouting and grumbling protests at each other as they go. Those who remain, excepting myself, get another hard stare from the irritated blacksmith, "Well? Didn't you hear me telling you to go away?"

A brave faced Kon girl clears her throat, "We were wondering if you could teach us about blacksmithing?"

Henna glances at me, "I've already got an apprentice. If you want pointers, then I'll tell you once again. Sod off. I'm busy, and I don't have enough anvils to teach all of you at once."

The would-be blacksmiths look dejectedly at each other, "Guess we'll just have to try again later?"

"Yeah. This sucks."

"Why are there only two anvils anyway?"

They leave one by one, complaints still fresh on their minds bemoaning the poor facilities. It's an unfortunate consequence of Henna only being a 1-Star Merchant and the influence of Geronil pulling most of her business to the in-house blacksmiths in the basement area of the Pioneer's Alliance. They have many more crafting stations there, but as long as Geronil is in power, players can't get in very easily to use them, requiring a pretty hefty amount of contributions just to get your foot in the door.

And unless you're a Firm, you can forget about it altogether. Racist ass.

Left standing alone, Henna gives me a questioning stare, "You need something, apprentice?"

Shrugging, I wave my hand in rejection, "I can wait. Just looking to get some materials to smith with for a while."

A placid nod is all I get as Henna resumes her work, swinging a few times with her hammer when a look at the crowding players in the entrance of Stone Arsenal's storefront elicits a huff of annoyance, "Make yourself useful then, and get these idiots orderly while I head 'round to the back entrance."

"Alright," I agree a little reluctantly.

Setting to work corralling the ornery Newborn, the process proves to be both difficult and highly annoying, with people questioning my authority, attitude and so on until Henna gets in behind the counter and gives the amassed players an earful. Within short order the whole event attracts a growing crowd of spectators from the market-going players, and the line of curious customers and a few members of 'Bronzeguy's' apparent fan following wondering what's so interesting about Stone Arsenal rapidly evolves into a serpentine beast that stretches down the street as the rumour spreads.

Henceforth I find myself transitioning from cat shepherd to usher, trying my best to keep the line orderly until a few City Guards arrive to keep the peace.

It's a full hour at least before the commotion dies down, Henna's stock of saleable items all but completely cleared out and the tourist types shoved forcibly out the door for wasting her time and valuable floorspace.

I saw a few faces I sort of recognise in the procession, like the pushy Silva and Dire Wolf Bait Party #1. Most players only have enough money to buy a basic weapon, tool or a few throwing knives, but they look uncommonly pleased with their purchases - as if they stumbled across some great secret treasure.

The average player getting better equipped is a good thing, though, and with the growing awareness that they need to look farther out to make any progress, I can expect a period of high growth to be in the cards for the near future. They can't just amble around the city in starter gear forever, and they are no good to me so long as they do.

If I'm to make any money off them, they need the means to be able to get some money to spend to begin with.

Feeling a little worn out and irritated at the lost time, I shut the door to the shop behind me, giving a half-hearted wave to a pleased looking Henna.

"Best business I've done since Dad's time, that. Nice to have some coin again, but I don't think the Arsenal'd survive a repeat too soon after," she muses, tossing a handful of Stone Coppers in one hand, "Thanks by the way. You said you wanted some metal, right?"

"Yeah. I'm looking to make some Beginner's Bronze Shortswords to fill a Donation Crate," I explain.

Placing the coins under the counter she nods, "Alright. I'll give you a hand for half what they pay you with. Don't need to worry about selling anything else today until I can get some new stock in."

I agree without a fuss, since time saved is money earned and she has a better success rate at crafting than I do.