The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2) (4 page)

After going through the items, I put them back in the bag, got a solid grip on my Mallet and went out into the night. The owners of Barliona know very well that many of the game's players only appear during late evenings. For this reason the nights here are very light and generally have very good visibility. I took a couple of steps from the door and cursed. Just my luck! It looked like Beatwick was on that unique list of places where the rule about lighter nights did not apply. Pitch black darkness covered the village like a blanket and it was impossible to see anything even a couple of meters away. Thus my plan to go to the mine fell through quite thoroughly. I had no desire whatsoever to trudge around in this dark. I sat on a bench, leant against the wall and closed my eyes. There was an almost complete silence that seemed to arrive in the village together with the dark, broken only by the rustle of the forest and the quiet chirping of crickets. There were no dog noises or shouts from crowds of NPCs, which were now peacefully sleeping in their houses. It was an ideal night to go out by yourself and breathe in the crisp, clean air, which contained hints of pine resin, fir needles and a tangy whiff of an animal. An animal?! I immediately opened my eyes and saw just a couple of meters away an indistinct cloud, out of which two red eyes were staring at me. What the...? I selected the indistinct cloud and tried to see in its properties what I was dealing with.

Object properties: hidden.

Hidden? How's that? Concealing a mob's properties was impossible in Barliona. Or at least it was until just now. The entire game is built upon the ability to read them, which allows the players to devise combat strategies with the mob or a boss. I had to get into the manual or on the forums to see who is able to hide their properties and whether this was even possible. But that's for later, right now I had other matters to deal with — what does this thing in front of me want? I had little doubt that its intentions were anything but nice and friendly. As a rule, in Barliona if a mob is aggressive, it's sure to have red eyes. Neutral or friendly mobs would have eyes of any other colour but red. The two red lamps looking straight at me did not make my immediate future look very promising.

Trying not to make any sudden movements, I got up from the bench and started to shift sideways towards my door. I had to cover just a couple of meters. With every small step I took the strange thing also shifted sideways, always keeping a meter and a half in front of my face. I don't think I'm liking this anymore. Maybe I should attack it first? Attack is the best defence, after all. I was about to summon a Lightning Spirit on this incomprehensible something, but then my hand slid against the door knob. The thought of testing which of us was tougher was evaporated in a second — a door, despite its humble status, was a great obstacle against mobs. No-one abolished the principle of 'My home is my castle' — even in Barliona.

I carefully slid my hand behind my back, slowly lowered the door handle and quickly dropped inside the house. Immediately turning around, I tried to slam the door shut with my whole weight. Just as I was making my first move the beast lunged forward and began to push hard on the closing door from the other side.

Damage taken. Hit Points reduced by 30: 260 (Door hit): 230 (Physical defence). Total Hit Points: 650 of 680.

Skill increase:

+10% Endurance. Total: 70%

+5% Strength. Total: 60%

I was just a couple of centimetres away from completely closing the door. I strained all I could, heaving my whole body against it, but the beast that was pushing on the other side just wouldn't let me do it. Moreover, gradually, centimetre by centimetre the door began to open. At some point a mist-covered appendage slipped through the crack that formed. Inside the house the mist dissipated and I could see four sharp claws in the twilight. What is this, an overgrown wolverine? The claws dug into the door and left deep marks — exactly the same as those on the village gates. Was I suppose to think that this is the way the local youth got its kicks? It'll become a running joke if it gets around the village tomorrow — how the Shaman got scared by children's pranks. I was about to stop resisting, but then a message popped up:

Energy level: 30. Stop, you angry Shaman!

This was the automatic message I put in place back at the mine to stop myself biting the dust from the Energy loss. This was no joking matter. It's not like the local kids would have the strength to demolish my Energy in a matter of seconds. This is something else.

But what this something was I didn't have a chance to find out. A couple of seconds later a message flashed that my Energy had gone down to zero and I froze like a broken doll. Unlike in the mines, in the main gameworld Energy can be easily restored from zero, even without the aid of water. But until it is restored to at least ten points, the player freezes like a wax figure.

Another blow on the door threw me far back into the room and already mid-flight I saw some grey shadow speed after me. There was no mist around it, but in the darkness of the room I could not make out what it was. Only one thing was clear — the beast had two arms and two legs. Or four appendages, to sum it up. Why did I put out the lamp before leaving? That way I'd know what I was dealing with now. There was a flash of four sharp claws: a sharp pang of pain and the surrounding twilight became even darker. So, my house is not much of a castle, it would seem. Though it's not like it's really my house — I was getting ahead of myself.

There was a flash and it seemed to me that I almost immediately found myself at the entrance to the local cemetery. A very symbolic respawning point. A small temple stood a few meters away from me, shading me from the bright morning sun. Looks like that unidentified beast did get me in the end, and the compulsory twelve hours from the moment of death went by in a flash. Great.

I was about to head to the temple when I found myself staring angrily at a message that popped up:

Attention!

In connection with your death, your level of Experience has been reduced by 30%. Current Experience: 199; points remaining until next level 1201.

I checked my purse. That's right, it now contained only three thousand gold. The other half was lying in the summer house. I could only hope that no-one had come in and laid their hands on it. It should have been somewhere behind the bed and not really visible from the door.

But what was it that got me? Despite the fact that I had 680 Hit Points and 230 Physical defence, the beast sent me for a respawn with a single blow. I looked into the combat logs, hoping that this feature had become unlocked since my leaving the mine. Yes! Now we'll read what it was that swatted me. I switched on the filter for the damage sustained in the last thirty hours and saw several lines:

23:45:23 Damage taken. 28 (258 'Door hit' — 230 'Physical defence'). Hit Points remaining: 652

23:45:26 Damage taken. 28 (258 'Door hit' — 230 'Physical defence'). Hit Points remaining: 624

23:45:39 Damage taken. 28 (258 'Hit against the wall' — 230 'Physical defence'). Hit Points remaining: 596

23:45:41 Damage taken. 24762 (24998 'Unknown' — 230 'Physical defence'). Hit Points remaining: 0.

I looked at the messages dumbfounded. That was some swatting! Twenty five thousand damage can be inflicted by a mob that's no less than level 70. But where would an aggressive mob of such a level come from in Beatwick and why on earth did it decide to pay me a visit?

"Were you looking for something, my son?" a voice sounded nearby and made me turn around. A small, plump and pink-cheeked priest of some god was standing by the temple, thumbing through the prayer beads in his hands. A black robe covered him from head to foot, but failed to conceal the size of his enormous stomach. "Do you want to receive a blessing from Vlast? In that case you have to become his novice. Are you ready?"

So this was a temple of Vlast. The god of wine making. He was an analogue of Bacchus, Pan and other such gods from the real world. I went into the manual to read the main limitations imposed by serving this god and was surprised to see that there were none — any NPC or players could become this god's novice without any restrictions. This didn't concern just the novices, but you could even become a priest just a few months after becoming a novice. There were no additional costs or donations to be made. All you had to do is drink a glass of wine or homebrew every day and thus receive your divine blessing. Although if you failed to drink it, you'd incur a divine curse, not a pleasant thing, as a rule. This meant that you'd have to atone for your sins with two glasses of homebrew. All right, I was never that interested in Barliona's religions as a Hunter and as a Shaman had even less need of them. Of course, Vlast is a convenient god for levelling up the Faith stat, but there are just too many complications in this field. Not my thing. Now it was clear, however, where the priest got his large stomach — probably from saying all those daily prayers with his parishioners and anyone else who dropped by. With the devout aid of wine and homebrew, that is. I bet those guards I met by the gates yesterday were also his active novices.

"No, thank you. I respect Vlast, but I am not ready to become his novice. You have my thanks," I bowed to the priest, receiving a similar bow in response.

"As you wish. Vlast doesn't force anyone to serve him. Only someone with true insight could fathom the real depth of his teaching. Can I help you with anything else, my son?" the priest run the standard phrase by me.

"Yes. Holy father, can you tell me if there are any monsters in these parts that roam about at night and bring grief and destruction to the local people?" the incident with the respawn wouldn't let me be. I was dying to find out what dealt me all that damage.

The priest stopped fingering the prayer beads, looked around and then gestured me to follow him:

"Enter into the temple, my son. This isn't the place to talk of such things."

There was nothing interesting inside the temple. There was the altar with the depiction of a rather chubby Vlast, whose bleary-eyes gaze stared into empty space, and a couple of benches. That's it. The place was totally Spartan. The priest went behind the altar, took two cups from somewhere and handed me one of them.

"Vlasts' commandments do not permit one to start a conversation without wine passing one's lips first," the priest said in lofty tones. "I see that there's a reason that you asked me about the night monster," he began as soon as we had drunk a couple of draughts. It was ordinary wine and did not give any stat bonuses — just a 'slightly tipsy' debuff after drinking it. "I can see that this trouble has not passed you by. Yes, there is trouble in our land. People don't like talking about it and everyone's pretending that nothing's happened. You've seen the claw marks on the gates, yes? The Headman had to make up a story, saying that he was the one that scratched them on — just to calm the villagers down. But every seven days the claw marks appear again. It's just as well that the local kids got it into their heads that they are the ones getting up to this, so people stopped worrying. And the fact that every seventh night either a cow or a sheep disappears from the common herd — everyone blames the wolves for that. But no-one gives a thought about how wolves would get through closed gates. The whole village is surrounded by a solid stockade, which not even a mouse would squeeze through. Only the Headman and his sons know the truth, since they spend nights trying to catch the elusive beast. It's been evading them for two years now and they've only glimpsed the monster's red eyes a couple of times. From afar. Your help would be invaluable. Would you take this on? If you could at least find out what beast it is that roams Beatwick, you would receive an ample reward.

Quest available: 'Night terror of the village'

Description: Once every seven days a monster roams Beatwick, which brings trouble and destruction to the residents. Find out who is the night terror of the village. Quest type: Rare. Reward: +400 to Reputation with the Krong Province, +500 Experience, +80 Silver coins, a Rare item from Headman's Stores. Penalty for failing/refusing the quest: -400 to Reputation with the Krong Province.

"I'll take it. I'll find out who is hiding under the guise of the beast," I accepted. Now it all became clear. The beast's properties could not be seen, because that was the nature of the quest. So it looks like I'll have to find out about it the normal way and not the one that only players could use. All right, I'll postpone this matter for a week, when it is time for the hunt once again. Our first meeting with the beast ended with its complete victory, but we'll see how things go from here.

"Thank you, Mahan! If you need help, you can ask for it straight away," the priest thanked me and I headed for the village. It was now time to collect my dropped cash and go wolf hunting. There was levelling up to be done.

"W
hen did you manage to get out?" asked Elizabeth as soon as I stepped into the courtyard. "I thought you were having a lie-in until noon, but it looks like you're quite an early bird."

"I thought I'd take a walk," I said, side-stepping the question, reluctant to bring up the monster. "I decided not to wake anyone, climbed over the fence and went to check out the local surroundings."

"How did you avoid getting mauled by Tiny Tim?" she asked in surprise.

"Tiny Tim?"

"Our dog. We let him out into the courtyard every evening. He's been taught not to jump over the fence, but he won't let any strangers into the courtyard either. That's him sitting over there, see?" Elizabeth pointed to the far end of the courtyard, where Tiny Tim was living inside an enclosure, the meter-high wolfhound that he was. He was growling quietly and giving me a decidedly unfriendly look. Where were you, my friend, when I was being sent for the respawn? Probably sitting in your little hole and sniggering at my expense. I suddenly had a feeling that I really had to 'have a chat' with Tiny Tim. It was silly, of course, but since my initiation as a Shaman I have made a habit of trusting any sudden hunches.

"Can I get to know him a little better?" I looked questioningly at my landlady.

"Of course, just don't tease him. It would take him just a couple of bites to rip through the wire, I don't want any trouble. Our Tiny Tim is well-trained and shouldn't attack without good reason, but it's best not to tempt fate."

I assured Elizabeth that I wouldn't do anything to the dog and walked up to his enclosure. Looking around to make sure we wouldn't be disturbed, I squatted and looked straight into the wolfhound's eyes. I couldn't explain why I did this, but felt that this was the right thing to do. Giving off a quiet growl, Tiny Tim came right up to the wire. I was hit by a pungent animal smell. We stared into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds and then suddenly...

The rest of the world went grey, became covered with a mist and a ringing silence surrounded me. It was as if someone turned off all sound with a wave of the hand. A shadow separated itself from Tiny Tim and walked right through the wire as if it wasn't there. The dog's shadow walked at a relaxed pace around the courtyard, like it owned the place. I looked at the real Tiny Tim. He looked at himself, eyes wide, mouth open and tongue hanging out. He was the embodiment of doggy surprise. At this moment the dog phantom took a couple of steps and then suddenly cowered to the ground, tail between his legs, and began to backtrack. I never thought that dogs could backtrack, especially with their stomach to the ground. I could be mistaken, but weren't they not supposed be able to do that? All right, we'll write it off as the whim of the developers. The phantom crawled through the closed door of the enclosure, made his way to the dog-house and when his back was against it seemed to try to dig himself into the ground.

"Did something frighten you?" I asked quietly. My voice sounded like a thunder clap. What could have made such an enormous dog run away in fear and try to dig itself into a hole?

Something mist-covered and formless appeared next to the dog. For a couple of moments it loomed over him and then suddenly this silent drama was broken by the squealing of the real Tiny Tim. The wolfhound fell to the ground, tail between his legs, covered his face with his paws, made a puddle and generally looked so scared that I involuntarily drew back, stumbled and fell on my backside. The darkness around us dissipated and the dog's squealing was joined by the noises of the surrounding world.

Update of the 'Night Terror of the Village' quest.

The monster that roams Beatwick by night terrifies even the largest and most vicious dogs. Keep this in mind during your search.

"What are you doing to Tiny Tim?" Clouter appeared next to me. "He's scared of you! Go away! Mr. Slate was right — you're a warlock! Don't be afraid Tiny Tim, I won't let him hurt you," Clouter put himself between me and the enclosure and looked ready to fight for his dog.

I had little desire to explain anything to this small NPC, so I got up and went to the summer house. As I guessed, my gold was behind the bed. I automatically threw it into my bag and lay down on the bed. The wolves won't be going anywhere and now I really had to give the forum and the manual a thorough read. The place where I ended up was becoming very interesting and I had no intention of playing the hero and trying to find out the monster's secret all by myself.

Let's think. What does a search for 'Beatwick' give us?

Let's look in the manual first. It's a village on the border of the Empire, Krong Province. I already know that. Number of residents, livestock and other NPC statistics do not interest me, next. Yes, there we go. The Headman died recently in Beatwick. Cause of death remains unknown. He was replaced by the Farstead industrial association representative. There are no quests linked to Beatwick residents.

The last sentence left me dumbfounded. According to the manual there were no quests in the village. As it stands, I had already collected two: 'Night Terror of the Village' and 'The Hunt for Grey Death'. Something wasn't tallying here.

I made a search for the quest titles. Right, such quests do exist. However, their description made me think: 'Variable quest, not linked to a particular location.' So, there are no quests, and yet they do exist. That's just stupid. To the manual again. Search: 'Variable quest.' Description: a quest given out by an NPC depending on your progress within the scenario.

Now I became totally confused. What scenario? Why would there be a playable scenario in Beatwick, a village in the middle of nowhere? There aren't even any players around here to do that.

Right, moving on to the forum. What can we find out about 'Beatwick'? The forum also offered little comfort. My search came up with only one message that was over a year old:

'Stupid village! In the middle of nowhere, gryphons don't fly there, the portal to the nearest town costs a grand in gold! The devs have gone batshit crazy setting such prices! In Farstead I got a quest to deliver a package to the Headman. I spent two days on a cart, that's just nuts! I even logged out for that time. Right, so I got there and delivered it. I decided to have a look around at night, and it was bad enough that you can put your eye out it's so dark here, the village is being roamed by a Vagren. A level hundred one! And I'm only at thirty! I couldn't even hit him. He dodged all my attacks, the bastard! My advice to you: it's a waste of time. I had a look around the village by day and there wasn't one quest to be had! What's the point of villages like that if there's nothing to do here for real players? One good thing is that I've done the quest and got some rep with the Province.

BTW, the Headman has a cute daughter! But she won't fall for flowers or presents. Daft NPC!"

A new search, this time in the manual:

Vagren. A type of Werewolf that keeps its consciousness after a shape-change. A Vagren can change his appearance any time at will, independent of the phases of the Moon. It is one of the few races that cannot be chosen by players. Race characteristics: faster movement when in Vagren form, ability to cause fits of panic in dogs, + (Level) to armour due to thick hide. The appearance of a Vagren is provided in the illustration.

I was looking at a tall humanoid dog, or rather, a wolf. The paw-like hands ended in four great claws that looked the same as those I saw last night. So there's a Vagren roaming Beatwick, is there? Then Tiny Tim's reaction was understandable. A panic attack is no laughing matter, especially if you're looking at a hundred-level werebeast. It's a pity that I can't go straight to the priest and share the information I just obtained. He would simply be unable to hear me, even if I was shouting in his ear: the quest hasn't been completed, so you can't hand it in. Never mind. I have a week to think of some way to catch this fleabag. My revenge for the respawn will be terrible.

As I left the house I glanced at Tiny Tim. He had now recovered and was rampaging around with Clouter. Having allowed himself to be mounted, Tiny Tim ran around the enclosure like a veteran racing horse and Clouter was laughing at the top of his lungs, grabbing his ears like reigns.

"What to do with him!" a stout woman that came out of the house threw her hands up in resignation. Judging by the kitchen apron she was the local cook. "He's making a horse out of the dog again! Marianna! Go calm your brother down, before he breaks his neck," she shouted inside the house. I didn't stay to see how it all ended and quickly headed out of the village.

If I understood the Headman correctly, the wolves appeared in the forest not far from the grazing herds. That's where I needed to go.

My initial wolf-hunting impulse petered out after about three hours. I haven't come across a single wolf, even of the mangy, sickly kind. Finding nothing better to do I started killing anything that moved. A level two grasshopper? A Lightning Spirit on you! A three-level toad? Got one for you as well! There was no experience at all or even loot to be had from this and these animals didn't even count towards the 'Bane of the Animal World' achievement. But to stave off boredom I continued to repeatedly terrorise the surrounding insects. Oh, there's a mouse running there. Just hold on, I'll get you now!

Damage taken. Hit Points reduced by 220: 450 (Arrow hit) — 230 (Physical defence). Total Hit Points: 420 of 680.

Despite the excruciating pain in my shoulder, I dropped to the ground and rolled sideways. The place where I initially fell was immediately hit by another arrow. What the hell?

I kept tumbling, without even looking where I headed, and hit a small tree. Ignoring the fact that I lost some Hit Points from the collision, I rolled behind the tree and caught my breath. Phew! Now I could breathe and look about. Nice wolves roam around Beatwick — ones with an arrow-shooting habit. I had no time or inclination to look through the logs (it would become clear who was attacking me soon enough), so I took out my Tambourine and summoned a Healing Spirit, replenishing my Hit Points. Now I was ready for a fight.

A minute went by that seemed like eternity, but no more arrows came. Could this be it? I lifted myself over the grass and had a look around. Silence, not a soul to be seen. So where did this strange shooter come from? And, most importantly, who was it?

The reply came in the form of an arrow that hit me right in the chest. What the ...!

Critical damage sustained. Hit Points reduced by 670: 900 (Critical Arrow Hit) — 230 (Physical defence). Total Hit Points: 10 of 680.

I fell to the ground like a sack and fitfully gasped for breath. That hurt a lot! If I get hold of the bastard, I'll tear him limb from limb! At least I didn't have to take the arrow out: it had already vanished from this world, leaving only a memory in the form of pain behind. I summoned two Healing Spirits, getting myself back to full Hit Points, and stayed quiet. This clearly wasn't a player attacking me, since no message appeared telling me that I was being attacked by a PK-er. So it looked like some mob was out looking for fun. Well, we'll see who has a latent death wish in Barliona. A mob can't sit long on one spot; it really must go and see the result of its shots. Imitators, what do you expect? Stupid and predictable. The main thing was to lay low until that time. Although, truth be told, he's a good shot, the bastard. Nearly killed me! I even had my Endurance go up to level 11. So much for my worries about levelling up. Yeah right. All I had to do was wander some distance away from the village: I'd be hit by more than my fill of levelling up.

I didn't have to wait for long. Five minutes later I heard soft steps, sliding quietly over the grass. Well, well, you wannabe-Legolas. Just wander over for a chat. I was lying with my face to the ground, afraid to stir. The main thing was to get the mob to come as close to me as possible and then we'd see if this archer was much of a warrior. An NPC wouldn't fire a finishing shot at me, the scripts wouldn't allow it, and he wouldn't be able to use his bow up close. I learned all this very well when I was playing my Hunter. If this stranger had all his stat points in Agility, judging by how he managed to critical me, he shouldn't be much of a close combat fighter. And I'll use that against him...

The footsteps stopped right by my head. That's it, whatever it is — it's here. I was about to jump, when I was checked by the painfully familiar 'aroma' coming from my opponent. It smelled of sweat, dung and some sort of musk. A dark goblin! Any player who had ever made a raid into Kartoss would never forget this pungent smell of the main fighting troops of the Dark Lord. But what was one of them doing in Krong? He'd have to walk almost the entire Empire to get here!

The goblin standing next to me muttered something in his 'dark' language, sounding annoyed and clearly surprised that no pile of money was lying next to me. He grumbled thus for a little while and turned around to walk away! It's time! I jumped to my feet, selected the surprised-looking red-eyed minion in front of me and summoned a Lightning Spirit. Take that, you green-mugged bastard!

Damage inflicted. 209: 555 (Lightning Spirit Damage) /2.14 (Opponent Level /Character Level) — 50 (Inner resistance to Spirits)