Chapter 22: Skipping Stone Kneecap

The lid of our loot chest creaked open.

[Azwold has reached level 34!]

[Player minion has reached level 11!]

[Player minion has reached level 12!]

“Grats,” said Azwold. “I’ll miss these multi-level ding fests once you’re higher.”

“Aye,” I said. “Looks like I have a skill point or few saved up.”

“Here’s this,” said Azwold, tossing me my [Eld Kneecap] pendant.

I caught it by the thin leather string.

“You can have these [Spirit Walker] boots, too,” he said. “Mine are better.”

“I am fond of my stone kneecap,” I said. “It works fine.”

I put the pendant on under my coat hood.

Old memories floated around me…

The ship’s sawbones had cut out my kneecap while I bit down on a belt. He replaced it with similarly-shaped rock,—pilfered from a skipping stone collection—poured rum on the wound, gave me a swig, then stitched my skin with fishing wire.

As a tribute from a crew mate, my original kneecap had been inlaid with a gold coin, melted to fill in the cracks where it had broken. I had healed quicker than the repairs took, and since the stone felt fine, the bone was fashioned into a pendant.

But I realized this was lore data for the Eld. I could tell a genuine memory from a programmed one; useful yet disconcerting.

“Anything?” said Azwold. “Do we need to reattach it?”

“I have recalled several things,” I said, “but the memories are only character lore.”

“Some days it’s hard to tell myself from my game role,” said Medett. “I get so busy fielding quests that I lose myself in the character.”

The concept was not dissimilar to Gnarlroot and I. “You think the NPC data blends itself with our consciousnesses?”

“Over time it might,” said Berem. “But I feel alright. If we’re stuck here, we’ll get used to it.”

“Hmm,” said Azwold. “I think I need to take a break. I’m still sleep depped from our last session.”

“Let us discuss my freedom of movement, then,” I said. “Before you go.”

“Movement to go where?” he said.

“Wherever I have a need to.”

“You have a need to stay right here, incognito.”

“I’ll stay with him,” said Berem. “How about that?”

Azwold considered. “Maybe. Hmmm.” He showed me the map on his tablet. He highlighted the Tang Tree Orchard and Berem and Medett’s habitations, showing me a perimeter encircling the area.

“Will you stay inside that circle?” he asked.

“As you say."

“Alright, let’s see where our new friend’s going next,” said Azwold, plugging the [Data] into his tablet. “Stage seven of eleven is on his list, but it’s not the only place. Ralos, er, Trogdor or whatever, he probably knows what you are, Eld. Might target you. You’d really better just stick around camp. But inside the Gremlin maybe? Trust me, there’s nowhere safer. Here.”

He gave me the [Gremlin Signal] and I nodded my thanks.

“And you’ve got your quest item,” said Medett. “The other guy doesn’t.”

“He’ll be wanting it,” said Azwold. “You two good and awake?”

“We only sleep to relax or quiet our thinking,” said Berem. “We don’t need to.”

“One last question,” said Azwold. “Are you like normal quest NPCs? Strong like town guards? You can repel combat-flagged players?”

Berem laughed, then flexed.

“Your rival would be a fool to attack my orchard,” said Medett, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good,” said Azwold.

“What time should I expect your return?” I asked.

“Eight hours? I’ll set an alarm.”

“Be punctual this time.”

“Mmm,” he said. “The Rogue, Mystic, and I should appear wherever you are when we log back on. Don’t fiddle with party parameters, ok? Not that it matters because you’re gonna be right here, right?”

I nodded.

Lavender lines traced out shapes below Azwold’s boots as he performed his exit animation, then he vanished in an inky swirl.

[Azwold has logged off]

The malady struck me instantly. I pressed the [Gremlin Signal]’s button as I fell to my knees. And the Gremlin materialized. I clamored for the doorhandles, discovering it was locked.

“Fool mage!” I wailed.

“Why are you freaking out?” said Medett.

“I must board the motorcar,” I said.

“He’s offline,” said Berem. “You can relax.”

But then I remembered Azwold pocketing the keys back on the beach. Near the oubliette where I obtained the [Grim, Dim Purple Coat]. A brief search of its inventory slots and the keyring was found.

“Oho!” I unlocked the door and scrambled into the captain’s chair.

As soon as the malady’s phantom pains faded I set about unhinging the [Helm Wheel] from its column. DarkNeon had showed me her way, and I replicated it with my finger vines. I stepped out of the Gremlin and re-entwined the wheel behind my skull, neck vines twisting up through the existing shoulder rips. The weight of the [Helm Wheel] behind my hooded skull felt reassuring. I decided I would keep it there. The mage will simply have to deal with it.

Berem and Medett watched as I did this, curious.

“What was that about?” said Medett. “Quickly. My lineup of questers looks rowdier than it did ten minutes ago.”

“I am tied to the mage’s [Hive Scepter],” I said. “It has a ring in its pommel that I can unscrew and wear, dramatically extending my roaming range from the scepter. When Azwold is offline, the game re-designates the Gremlin as a temporary [Hive Scepter]. And this [Helm Wheel] fills in for my [Hive Scepter Ring].”

“How does that help if you’re staying in camp?” asked Berem.

“Until I learn to pilot the motorcar, I prefer to be free of its confines.”

“I just thought of something,” said Medett. “Azwold is good with gizmos, right?”

“So he says,” I said.

“Could he make something for me and Berem?”

“You think he could extend my prowl range?” said Berem.

“Mayhap,” I said, “but I know not. Ask him in 8 hours.”

“I intend to!” said Medett, then she returned to her NPC place. “Alright!” I heard her call from the Tangybark station. “We’re back! Mama had to do some business. Who’s next?”

“Okay,” said Berem. “Perimeter patrol time. Come Vish.” Then he tapped the corner of his eye, “Stay vigilant.”

“Aye.”

As I watched the Beast Ranger prowl the orchard’s edge, it occurred to me that Medett’s crowd of adventurers must have seen me. I peered in their direction, but none marked my presence. Perhaps they failed to notice Azwold log off, and assume he is near? One convenient thing about the “player minion” designation is that average players are too concerned with their own objectives to scrutinize me much. I doubted my ability to remain a secret indefinitely, but my mundane classification provided a degree of camouflage at a distance. Close up was another story.

I clawed at the flaps of Berem’s hide tent and crawled inside. It was dark. A safe place to explore my skill point options. I retrieved my tablet, partially illuminating the tent with its dull glow. I lit an oil lamp sitting on a stone slab table.

Beast pelts and carved bone decor, an array of drying herb sprigs on a twig lattice, a bed of ripped up rugs next to a little pile of critter bones. I could almost smell the pungent musk.

“No matter,” I whispered, concentrating on my tablet.

I had three ability categories: Bone, Vine, and Ectoplasm. Now that I was beyond level 10, my second tier of spells was available. In Bone, my choices were: [Spell: Tooth Rush II], [Spell: Bone Armor I], [Spell: Rib Cage I], and [Spell: Marrow Rot I]. The latter two were still greyed out. I would need to gain levels to invest there, but [Spell: Rib Cage I] looked like a way to trap enemies or hinder their movement. [Spell: Marrow Rot I] looked like a damage over time spell.

For Vine, I was looking at: [Spell: Regen III] (maxed already), [Spell: Thorns II], [Spell: Root Foot I], and [Spell: Re-compose I]. [Spell: Regen III] was one of my favorites and I liked [Spell: Re-compose] for similar reasons, but I required level 20 to unlock it. It sent out vine runners to drain nearby corpses, healing Azwold and myself, restoring a small bit of health and mana per corpse, but rendering them unusable for further Spirit Magic. [Spell: Thorns I], while it seemed okay on screen, required enemies to hit me in order to reflect their damage back at them via sprouted thorns. I planned to avoid taking hits, always. But I was stuck with the one point I had already put into it. [Spell: Root Foot I] looked interesting; by stomping a foot into the dirt it provided substantial resistance to knock-back. It also emitted a taunt effect, calling monsters to me and away from the mage. So, no.

The Ectoplasm skill tree looked like utility and indirect effects. I had [Aura: Wisdom Tooth I], giving our party a 5% Wisdom stat boost. I could invest there and get it up to 15%. [Spell: Fright Hand I] gave me the ability to scare enemies away; very appealing. I would need five more levels to invest in [Spell: Weaken], which sapped an enemy of 10% their stats, transferring them temporarily to Azwold and I: strength (STR), dexterity (DEX), intelligence (INT), wisdom (WIS), charm (CHA), and vitality (VIT). Effectively boosting our stats by 20% across the board compared to the target seemed overpowered, but I was too low level to select [Spell: Weaken], anyway.

At level 20, I gained access to a spell called [Spell: Vision Wisps]. It allowed me to see things I otherwise would not, like stealth or invisible players. It sounded like a must-have. I planned to keep my eye on it and invest as soon as possible.

It appeared that all of my own stats—aside from raw, automatic stat boosts from gaining levels—were imparted to me via my gear. The existence of stats suggested that careful investment was a part of the PC leveling experience. I did not have to bother with it. Based on foggy memories and the mage’s monologuing, I had gathered that a player’s stat allocation had a lot to do with how the game auto-detects Classes. Other factors were: school(s) of magic chosen, spells and abilities within those schools chosen, types of weapons and gear used, general play style, etc. Hit things hard with a bludgeoning weapon, cast healing spells, and wear heavy armor? You’re a Cleric or Paladin, most likely. Sneak around stabbing and stealing? You’re a Rogue or Thief. Still, I suspected the classification system held mild mysteries for me yet.

Azwold rode the line between Mage and Summoner, I suspected. He could teach me how it works in greater detail later. For now, it was time to choose. I felt an under-abundance of context to know which was best. Was there a “best”? I noticed some spells possessed synergies with others, both in potential combinations of spells that produce better results together, and actual tablet number boosts. Sinking points into [Spell: Bone Armor] and [Spell: Rib Cage], for example, made the cage harder to break, and the armor last longer.

I noticed that each point in [Spell: Fright Hand] increased the effects of [Aura: Wisdom Tooth] by 1%, and each point in [Aura: Wisdom Tooth] increased [Spell: Fright Hand]’s fear debuff by 0.5 seconds, so I sunk my two points into Ectoplasm.

Now, with all 8 points spent, my skill bar looked like: [Spell: Tooth Rush I], [Spell: Fright Hand II], [Spell: Regen III], [Spell: Thorns I], and [Aura: Wisdom Tooth I]. Boosting Wisdom could give the mage new insights, but I did not plan to hold my non-existent breath over it.

I felt my power increase with these new spells. I was eager to test them out, eager to gain more levels and acquire even more abilities. I did not need the mage to earn experience, and this fact spurred me to action.

Rifling through Berem’s belongings, I searched for pants and gloves. If I could complete a costume, get my legs and hands hidden, mayhap I could move freely without random interrogations.

[Cub Mitts]. Low level trash gear, but they would do. I equipped the paws and a pair of ugly [Pelt Pants]. Then I pulled my cowl low over my face and stepped outside of the tent.

Completing quests was essential to leveling up, and I happened to know a quest-giver. I walked over to Medett and got in line with the other morning adventurers.