Chapter 14: Brainstorm Beavers

Azwold trudged along the road to Dreen, dodging mud ruts and whispering curses. Each gravelly boot crunch reminded him of his poor, drowsy judgement; having left a self-aware minion alone… But a silvery shimmer pulsed around the [Hive Scepter], solving many of his pressing questions.

The Eld had strayed too far. The scepter’s magnetism had drawn his spirit back into it.

“There you are,” Azwold whispered to his weapon. “Now tell me where your bones are?”

Predictable silence followed.

The mage had logged on to find the Eld, the Gremlin’s [Helm Wheel], and the [Gremlin Signal] all gone. He had tried to cast [Spell: Summon Skeleton] multiple times, producing only fizzles.

Azwold had stolen precious few hours of sleep out-of-game. It left him ill-prepared to handle setbacks, but he had given up on rest. Logging back in was better than tossing and twisting up his bed sheets.

Now, nearing Dreen’s gate, Azwold displayed the quest objectives for review. The greyed out text meant his progress halted without the Eld summoned at his side. He suspected the next leg would be relatively easy otherwise. ‘Go to a place, talk to a person, keep escort alive, follow instructions’ type quests were typically straightforward. Stuff like: ‘Kill 7 dust elementals,’ or ‘Collect 8 [Stick],’ or ‘Scare 9 varmints out of farmer So-N-So’s cabbage field.’ The hard part would be getting there, but Azwold had enough gold to splurge on a flightpath if necessary.

He read:

Quest Name: “Gnarlroot the Eld’s Stolen Bones” (Progress: 6/11)

Quest Type: Epic, Multi-stage, Class-specific

Class: Spirit Mage (Level 32+)

Requirements: Keep Gnarlroot the Eld summoned and alive, or quests fails and you must start over.

Objectives:

-Travel to Cloud River Canyon in the Soleus Mesa

-Speak to the Herbalist Medett in the Tang Tree Orchard

-Assist her

Rewards: 400XP, 550gold, [Eld Kneecap], [Spirit Walkers]

(When 11/11 Complete: [Spell: Summon Epic Skeleton])

Quest Text:

A new sickness has befallen the people of Soleus Mesa. Their healers have devised remedies, but to learn a true cure they may need a Spirit Mage’s insight. Lend them your skills, but while you’re there, investigate rumors of a lost [Eld Bone] somewhere atop the Mesas. Good luck and Spirits guide you.

“Hey you! Wanna duel?” came a shout.

Azwold looked up from his tablet. “Stand aside plebeians,” he said with a wave of the hand.

“Aww c’mon!” said a muscle-armed player. “Plebs? I hope you can take sick burns better than you dish them.” He spun in place, igniting his twin gladius swords.

Azwold surveyed the ragtag skirmishers; five players in their upper 20s.

“I don’t have time right now,” he said. “But let me ask; have you seen anything strange today?”

“Maybe I have? Fight me and find out.”

Azwold sighed. “Fine.” He cast [Spell: Summon Boneling], but nothing happened. It was a basic spell, a lower level precursor to [Spell: Summon Skeleton]; it allowed a Spirit Mage to summon three small bone constructs to keep enemies busy for a short while.

Azwold grinned at the players, who had finished their bouts and were now watching. There was a spoony-looking bard among them, hiding behind a tree and clutching a harp. Next to him was a pallid spirit mage, with stringy silver hair, a wine colored doublet, and a scythe. He was paying particularly close attention.

When Azwold failed a second and then a third attempt to summon a minion, it became clear that he would be at a disadvantage until he located the Eld. The game was treating him as if he already had an active minion, and minions were vital to his build.

“Like I said before,” said Azwold, “No time for duels.”

“Then I got no time for talking about strange things I seen,” said the one with the flaming gladii.

“See ya then, I guess,” Azwold shrugged. “I pegged y’all as knowledgable, but what can ya do?”

The level 26 Spirit Mage caught Azwold’s eye momentarily. A chill wafted through him, glancing at the other mage’s tarnished scythe blade. Azwold closed his eyes, stretching his neck and shoulders, then strode away, gazing up at Dreen’s wooden gate frame. An intimidating pair of sea beast jawbones hung above with two weathered oars nailed in an X below. A rusted ship anchor and coiled, sun-bleached ropes flanked the gate on either side.

Azwold walked across the cobblestone plaza and ducked under a mossy wood shingle roof. He grabbed the shop’s door handle, but there was a hand on his shoulder the next moment. He turned.

“Can you not summon your minions?” asked the stringy-haired spirit mage from the gate.

“Pardon?”

“Highly unusual happenings are afoot,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” said Azwold. “What have you seen?”

The other mage, whose name was “Trojainous,” looked from side to side, then whispered closely, “We can speak honestly, ey my fellow?”

Azwold nodded, stepping back from the man’s stale breath.

“My power grows,” said the other mage. “Soon, [Spell: Summon Skeleton] will be within my grasp. I see your powers surpass my own. Have you not embarked to Gnarlroot Hill?”

“I’ve been there, yes.”

“Well, I was there earlier this very day,” said Trojainous. “The graveyard there? It is locked! None may enter.”

“Is it?” said Azwold, feigning disinterest.

“Come, friend,” he said. “No spirit mage worth a pinch of salt would reach level 33 and ignore an epic class questline.”

“What are you driving… friend?”

“In approximately 3.5 levels, I will be high enough level to acquire a skeletal minion of my own. My disappointment will sink to new depths if I’m unable to attempt it. Tell me, are you past step 4 of 11, or not?”

“Tell me what you know about the Eld’s graveyard site and I might help you.”

“You lucky son of a boneling!”

“Keep it down,” said Azwold. He ushered the other mage through a creaky gate in a stick fence. The shop’s side yard was just a dirt patch surrounded by long grass, a barrel, and an empty bottle. “You’re right,” said Azwold. “Weird stuff has indeed gone down recently. I’ve been working nonstop to set things right, okay?”

“Dish,” said Trojainous. “You simply must.”

“The graveyard?”

The other mage gave Azwold an incredulous glare. Then he huffed and said, “I was there, as I told you. The site is blocked off. Gate is locked. There were signs saying it’s undergoing renovation. But I think we both know there’s more, ey?”

“Why were you there if you’re too low level?”

“I accompanied a few other mages. To observe, you see. No harm in field research, most would agree. My own chance approaches after all.”

“What else did you see?”

“Primarily? My comrades bickering amongst themselves, complaining about their plight.”

“Anything helpful?”

“Ah ah ah,” the other mage shook a finger.

“Fine. Telemoon,” said Azwold. “I think they’re why the quest glitched out.”

“I see. A simple thing to believe. They’re just terrible, aren’t they?”

“Agreed. Now. You dish.”

“Mmm. What would you have me tell you? Shall I recite our dialogue while we loitered by a locked gate?”

“If it’s useful, yes.”

“You know what…” said Trojainous, “there was one noteworthy visitor. Now I’ve had a moment to ruminate; a Light Rogue.”

Azwold made a face, then turned to leave the side yard.

“I bluff you not. I even challenged her to a friendly duel, but she refused.”

“How is this useful info?”

“Because, dear Azwold, she was asking about our quest. Specifics. She wanted to know all the whys, hows, and wherefores.”

“Hmm.”

“And she had a straggler along, sitting on her [Luminous Llama].”

“Describe them.”

“The rogue had yellow studded leather armor. Grey pants. Yellow hair, too. You’ve probably seen the golden mounts before. The llama was one such. And the straggler? He waited on the mount all the while. I wonder now…”

“Was he wearing a grim dim?”

“May have been, yes. Purple, if I recall. And he had a strange helmet. Like a hoop attached to his hood?”

“The rogue’s name, quickly.”

Trojainous, peered up at the shop’s mossy shingles. “It was something odd,” he said. “She could use a lesson on proper naming conventions.”

“Think.”

“It was something abstract. Something nonsensical. I’m afraid I cannot recall much more. Perhaps I was mystified by the sight of a rogue running around using Light magic.”

“Understandable,” said Azwold. “Your help has been useful after all. Can I send you a friend request? If you remember anything else, you’ll message?”

“The flow of information has been a little one sided, wouldn’t you say?”

“Nope. Wouldn’t say.”

“All the same, surely my discretion has value? How about a favor?”

“You want me to buy your silence?”

“It doesn’t have to be all unfriendly and transactional like that,” Trojainous shrugged, exiting the side yard out into the plaza. “A little favor. That’s all.”

“Fine,” said Azwold. “But if it’s unreasonable—and I get to decide what’s reasonable—then you wasted your favor. Got it?”

“These terms are unreasonable, if you ask me. But fine.”

“Okay, friend request sent.” Azwold tapped his tablet. “If you remember anything, hit me up on my pager.”

“Indeed…”

The men parted ways and Azwold mumbled to himself, “First I owe the Queen of Bees a favor, and now this guy. Okay, Eld,” he whispered to the scepter, “who’s your Light Rogue pal, huh?”

The [Hive Scepter] was dim.

“Well,” said Azwold, “shouldn’t be too hard to find a yellow-jacket Light Rogue who rides a [Luminous Llama], should it? Sounds like an attention seeker. But who do I ask?”

He glanced across the plaza to Dreen’s gate. The duelists were still out there. A few more had gathered, and Azwold saw something he did not expect to; leaning against a tree… Telemoon. Quiet and alone, dressed like the men on Stonesthrow Island in a navy blue uniform.

Surreptitiously, Azwold scanned around for more. Unsure, he slipped into the shop. A bell dinged above his head.

“Welcome,” the NPC shopkeep greeted him. “Best fishing gear in town here.”

The shop lobby was barely big enough to move around in. There were barrels of fish and bait on ice, rods, reels, baskets, and bobbers clogging the small space.

Azwold dropped a sack full of items to sell on the counter, not saying anything.

“What do we have here?” said the shopkeep, perusing the sack’s contents. “It’s all junk. I’ll pass.”

“What?” Azwold cocked his head. A strange gleam in the NPC’s eye signaled a problem. “It all has value. I give you items I can’t use, you give me gold. Shopkeepers can’t refuse a sale.”

“We know who you are: Azwold, level 33 Spirit Mage,” said the shopkeep. “Interfere with our projects again at your peril.” Then the shopkeep’s eyes zapped back to normalcy. “Welcome. Best fishing gear in town here.”

Azwold shouldered a barrel against the door and began inspecting the shop. He hopped up to sit on the counter. Feeling around under it, he identified an out-of-place device. It reminded him of a smoke detector, and it came loose like one when he twisted it.

“Fun toy,” he said. “Too bad it’s already fallen into the wrong hands. But we can reverse engineer that.”

Telemoon knew Azwold’s location now, so he needed a stealthy egress. He slid off the counter and combed the place for other hidden devices, but found none.

The NPC stood at the counter, staring at nothing.

“We’re in a pickle now, ain’t we?” Azwold said to the scepter.

The mage rubbed his head, frustrated that it wasn’t laying peacefully upon a fluffy pillow. He imagined a colony of brainstorm beavers damming up all his streams of thought.

Then a message pinged on his tablet.

“Ah, Mr. Trojainous,” he whispered. “I had a feeling your memory would jog itself.”

But it was not the other mage. Nor was it anyone he knew. The message read:

DarkNeon: “Hey, so I did a little digging. Found ya! I have your skeleton buddy. Gotta log off in a sec, but I’m stashing the bones in your sweet ride. BTW, if you’re trying to keep this thing secret, you couldn’t have chosen flashier wheels, man. Kinda sus, don’tcha think? BTWx2, what’s with the bees? Seriously.”

Azwold moved the barrel and cracked the shop door to peek out. He grabbed his night binoculars, peering beyond the skirmishers at Dreen’s gate, and farther down the road.

There, a distant glimmer. Faint and far, but unmistakable. Was it a llama? That was unclear. Azwold dug a hand down into his inventory pockets as a plan pathed through his thoughts.

He removed his [Tomb Cloak], then took out his black tablet, and [Gloomgill Bulb]x1. He crushed the bulb, letting the oily juice soak into the cloak’s dingy green fabric. Then he prepared to read [Spell: Umbral Veil].