Power Up, page 8
To emphasize his point, the thief pulled out his dagger. Everyone understood the universal language of daggers. They cut through all the misunderstanding and got straight to the point.
Nutsack looked on as the man waved his pointy stick around. He’d seen something like that before. He remembered the handle sticking out of his own rags. Sure enough, it was attached to a short pointy stick, exactly like the one his new friend had. He waved it towards them so that they could see it for themselves.
The thieves jumped back as their victim pulled his dagger. What kind of suicidal moron took on three armed men by himself? The problem with fighting idiots was that they were unpredictable. If he was too stupid to know they outnumbered him, he might be too stupid to know he was being stabbed. The thieves had lost friends to idiots. Not today.
The leader flipped his dagger, caught the pointy end, and threw it with all his might. Nutsack watched the dagger flying towards him with great interest. For a squirrel, the world moved much quicker. When you spent all day running and jumping 50ft off the ground, there were very real consequences for not thinking fast. The squirrel gene pool favoured fast reflexes over careful thought, because a thoughtful squirrel was a dead squirrel, and dead squirrels were notoriously bad at mating.
Nutsack casually reached out and plucked the dagger out of the air, catching it by the handle. He admired it. What a strange way for the man to share his pointy stick. It was just like the game he played with his keeper. What was it called? Nutsack tried to make the sound he’d heard a hundred times. The word came out slurred as his tongue flopped around in his mouth. “Ffffettttch.” This man wanted to play fetch! That meant Nutsack had to give him the pointy stick back.
The leader watched in horror as the scruffy urchin snatched his dagger out of the air and threw it back with unerring accuracy. It hit him squarely in the chest. He pulled it out and said, “What are you waiting for? Get him!”
The other two thieves had short swords, requiring them to close the distance. They charged without question, swinging their stunted weapons.
Nutsack was thoroughly confused. He was still playing fetch with his new friend, and now these other two were waving things at him. He didn’t want to get hit, so he dodged their attacks, which were slow and cumbersome. This made them furious. Perhaps this was a new game, and he was playing it wrong?
He tried to ask them how to play, but all that came out was a loud chitter. He concentrated and tried again, using all his happiest sounds. All he wanted to do was to be friends with them.
The result wasn’t so much a word as an intention, which the game did its best to interpret.
Thug is charmed.
Thug is charmed.
Charm failed on Bandit. Opponent is enraged. +20% STR, -20% DEF for 30 seconds.
The two thugs with short swords stopped attacking Nutsack. After a moment to reconsider their life choices, they turned on their leader, who didn’t hesitate to cut them both down in an instant. Apparently, murdering his friends didn’t put him in a cheerful mood, as he let out an angry roar and charged at Nutsack, his dagger held high. His first attack was lightning fast, catching the Rogue unprepared and nicking his arm. A green bar in Nutsack’s view turned a shade of red.
His friend wasn’t being very nice. If he wanted to play a new game, then Nutsack was happy to oblige. Nutsack tried to stab him back, but the thief quickly blocked it with his dagger. So that was the new game. Nutsack parried the man’s next attack, and the next. This was fun, if not a little dangerous, but everything a squirrel did was dangerous. Fear of danger was another thing not welcome in the squirrel gene pool, because all the cute lady squirrels were 50ft off the ground, and mating in a tree was the exact opposite of safe sex.
With a whistle, the man’s dog joined the fight, grabbing on to Nutsack’s ankle and tugging, attempting to throw him off balance. As Nutsack turned to deal with the mutt, the thief pulled back his blade, ready to deal the killer blow. Then he burst into flames. He staggered as another fireball hit him, and then another. Still he remained standing, his HP bar slowly dropping with the fire damage. He turned and ran.
“Help!” Sarah cried as the bandit charged straight at her. She wheeled backwards, throwing fireballs until she ran out of MP. Her Magic Points started refilling, but not fast enough for another cast before the fiery thief caught up to her.
Marcus used his Taunt ability and yelled. “Attack me, you big fop doodle.” He looked as confused as everyone else by the unexpected outburst, but it had the desired effect. The man diverted his attack towards Marcus, who now had a human inferno running straight at him with nothing but a wooden sword to defend himself. It was too late to run or dodge; he was going to have to tank.
The thief crashed into him and immediately attacked. His stabs were quick, and each one caused fire damage, in addition to the getting stabbed damage. Each hit stripped another 20% from Marcus’ HP. Marcus waited for Carlos to top up his health, but no heals came. He shouted, “I need healing!” but there was no response. Carlos was nowhere to be seen.
Tanking wasn’t viable without a healer, so Marcus went on the offensive. Unfortunately, he couldn’t land a hit. The fire did little to inhibit the Thief’s agility. He easily dodged Marcus’ ponderous attacks. When Marcus eventually landed a hit, it only did 5% damage. The Bandit promptly countered with another 20% damage, leaving Marcus perilously close to being dead.
Marcus yelled, “Hey Jas! Any chance of a little help?”
Jas stayed rooted to the spot, her swords clutched firmly in her hands. The man attacking Marcus was exactly that, a man. He looked like a person. She couldn’t stab a random person, even if he was attacking someone on her team. There had to be a more peaceful alternative.
“Excuse me, sir, I believe there may be a better way to resolve this misunderstanding than physical violence…”
“Seriously?” said Marcus, as he was stabbed to death. The Thief shook off the flames in time for Sarah to throw another fireball his way, but this time he dodged it with a roll, coming up right in front of Jas. He smiled sadistically at her. “Prepare to die.”
“But, sir, we bear you no ill will. We’re simply defending our companion. I don’t know what started this altercation, but I can assure you…” The Thief stabbed her mid monologue and Jas felt an unexpected sensation.
Rage.
She was tired of being a pushover. Her boss had tossed her into this mess. She had sacrificed evenings and weekends, holidays and birthdays, all for him to cast her aside without hesitation. He had taken advantage of her work ethic and kind nature. Was she going to let this murderous thug do the same?
The Thief stabbed her again. It didn’t hurt physically, but the anger was genuine. Based on her HP, one more hit would kill her. As the Thief lazily pulled back his dagger, something snapped deep inside Jas and she let out a primal scream. She slashed with both her swords, hitting the Thief twice in quick succession for massive damage. He slumped to the ground without a sound, his HP depleted. Jas stood over him, guilt quickly taking the place of anger. She’d killed him. She had taken a life. Things would never be the same. Her perfect academic record, her published scientific papers, her elegant Valedictorian speech, it was all for nothing. She was a murderer.
She was still grieving when the dog slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. The hound had a simple set of instructions, mostly tied to following orders, but one of its rules was absolute. If someone kills your master, they must die. Immediately, and without concern for self-preservation. As the jaws snapped at her, she held it back with all her strength. Sarah lined up a fireball, but the risk was too high that she’d hit Jas. Nutsack ran towards her, too. At least, it resembled running. Even with his speediest stumbling, he wouldn’t make it in time.
Jas had a choice to make. Fight or die.
Fight it was. She tried reaching for her sword, but couldn’t let go of the dog’s snapping mouth without risking a bite. With a whoosh the dog burst into flames, but it still didn’t die. Sarah shouted, “Sorry, I thought that would knock it off you!” She ran over to Marcus to revive him.
A glance confirmed Nutsack was nearly here. He flipped his dagger and threw it, hitting the dog in the leg and almost killing it. One more decent hit should do it. Jas let go of the dog’s mouth long enough to punch it square in the jaw. It slumped onto her, the flames still doing damage. With a strain, she pushed it off and backed away, the reality of the situation finally setting in. Now she’d killed a man and his dog. Without even realizing it, she had her swords in her hands. She tried to drop them, but they stayed firmly in her grasp until she sheathed them on her back. A message popped up, but she dismissed it.
Sarah appeared by her side, putting her arm around her. “It’s ok, Jas. You did what you had to. He would have killed us all.”
“He’s dead?”
“He’s not even real. He was an NPC. It looks like a random encounter. Nutsack must have accidentally triggered the fight. Often you can talk your way out of them, or avoid them altogether.”
“But his dog!”
“Also an NPC. Looks like a pet.”
While Sarah talked her down, Marcus scanned the area. He spotted what he was looking for. Carlos was rummaging through the dead man’s pockets. He charged over to him. “What are you playing at?”
“I’m looting the corpses. What does it look like?”
“I don’t mean now. I mean during that fight. Where were you?”
“I kept my distance. I’m a healer remember, I’m not supposed to engage in combat.”
“Oh, piss right off. You’re still sulking. Grow up.”
Carlos reeled back as if he’d been hit. Then he spat out, “Grow up? Are you kidding me? You don’t get it! All I’ve wanted since we saved the world was to have that feeling again, if only for a moment. To be a hero. Against all the odds, it happened, and instead of being a ninja, or a knight, or a stealth archer, I’m a glorified health pack!”
Marcus saw the frustration on his friend’s face and held back his anger. “I know how hard it was for you to transition back to normal life. You’re way more than a health pack, you are an integral member of this team. We need you. I need you. I can’t tank if you’re not there to keep me alive. We’ll only survive this if we work together.”
Carlos stared back at him. His annoyed expression slowly faded. “I’m sorry you died. I’ll do my job from now on. It’s a big change for me. I’ve never played a healer before.”
“I’m sure you’ll be annoyingly good at it in no time at all, just like you always are.”
Carlos smiled. “Let’s hope so, because you guys suck!”
Level 6: Mole-Playing Game
Carlos waved everyone into a huddle, healing up those that needed it. Once everyone was back to full health, he said, “Let’s debrief, because that was a bit of a shambles.”
Sarah was about to point out why, but she noticed the look from Marcus and bit her tongue. Carlos was a pain in the arse, but they wouldn’t survive long without a decent healer.
Carlos continued. “Marcus, you’ve played games like this before. If you’re going to draw enemies away from the others, you can’t get too far away. Otherwise, you’re going to take too much damage before backup arrives. You can’t be relying on Sarah to be watching your back the whole time. We’re going to need her to be focused on the ranged mobs. Which leads me to Sarah.”
If fireballs could form from looks alone, Carlos would have crumbled into a pile of ash. He ignored the glare. “You engaged the enemy, which drew the agro. That led to mobs heading towards the group when we weren’t prepared. It also reduced your accuracy. You don’t have much MP, and based on the large pause in your attacks, I’m guessing your MP regenerates slowly. Is that the case?”
“I have a better sense of the regen speed now. I’ll optimize my casting rate accordingly,” Sarah said, with as neutral a tone as she could muster.
Carlos nodded. “Sounds good. Now on to Jas.” He softened his tone and smiled. “That was a decent first attempt. We can work on your hesitation, but it will get easier with time. Not all our enemies will be human, so don’t worry too much about that aspect.”
“Don’t worry about it? I’m not a psychopath, of course I’m going to worry about it!” Jas said.
“What I mean is, there will be plenty of chance to practice. I know how realistic this all looks and feels, but you have to remember it’s a game. The NPCs don’t have feelings. If anything, you’re helping them out. Their entire purpose in life is to be defeated. They’re probably already back out there, looking for another fight.”
Jas tried to shake the image, and couldn’t. What kind of hellish existence was it to respawn endlessly, to be murdered over and over by bloodthirsty players? That sounded like something straight out of a nightmare.
Carlos ignored her contemplation and kept talking. “Last but not least, let’s talk about your part in all of this, Nutsack.” Carlos gestured to the rogue, who stared off into the distance, completely oblivious. Mention of his name got a brief bout of attention, but then he started looking around again with a strange grin on his face. He ambled over to a nearby tree and admired it. Carlos sighed. “Ok, I don’t think there’s much point providing constructive feedback to Nutsack right now. We need to figure out if there’s anything we can do to improve his comprehension. If we can’t communicate, he’s going to be a burden.”
“Speaking of which,” Sarah added with a raised eyebrow.
Carlos held up his hands. “I know what you’re going to say, and you are right. I was worse than useless in that fight, and I’m sorry. My head’s in the game now. It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” grumbled Sarah, loud enough for Carlos to hear.
He ignored her and carried on speaking. “Now that we’re on the same page, we need a battle plan to figure out how we’re going to get those daggers. First things first. Where are we?”
Everyone pulled up their maps, except Nutsack, who’d spotted some nuts in the branches of a tree. With tremendous effort, he clambered in their general direction. It was much harder without sharp claws and a tail. He kept slipping, but after a few attempts, he found he could jump and hang from the branches before pulling himself up and repeating the process. As soon as he reached the top, he grabbed a handful of nuts. His problem now was climbing down. He was already down two usable hands; there was no way he could make it back to the ground whilst holding all these nuts. A smart person would drop them, but a smart person he was not.
Instinct compelled him to try stuffing them in his mouth. Unfortunately, the moment they got close, he ate them automatically. That was not what he wanted. He did his best to think like a furless. His keeper had large pouches in his outfits, which Nutsack slept in if a hood wasn’t available. Perhaps his rags contained similar pouches? He tried to find them with a fistful of nuts, and they vanished. Squiggles appeared, which he promptly ignored.
Items moved to inventory.
He grabbed another handful and tried again, with the same results.
Marcus noticed the rogue wobbling precariously at the top of a tree and he dashed over to intercept. He shouted, but Nutsack didn’t respond. Marcus didn’t particularly feel like climbing all the way up there to coax Nutsack down, but the only alternative was to chop the tree down. He stared at his wooden sword and reached for the lowest branch. As he did, he noticed something carved into the trunk. There were words. He let go of the branch and stepped back to better see the whole carving.
It was a poem, and not a very good one. He read it aloud:
“The Hyfforddiant Plains are where you start,
This place is for beginners,
You’ll learn the ropes and gain some skills,
To prevent becoming dinner.
Fear not your fellow travellers,
They need not make you tense,
For ancient spirits keep away,
Those with experience.
So learn the blade and learn your spells,
To help you stay alive,
For you’ll be banished from this place,
When you reach level five.”
Marcus frowned at the tree. They were in some kind of training zone, but the first NPCs they’d run into had almost wiped their entire team. He looked around for more clues, but there were no signs of other players or mobs. He thought out loud. “There must be something around here, a tutorial or training dungeon where we can practice and level up.”
“That doesn’t sound like the King’s style,” said Carlos. “He strikes me as the trial by fire type.”
The ground immediately rumbled beneath them.
Marcus groaned. “You had to say it, didn’t you?” He readied his wooden sword. “Brace yourselves. I think we’re about to have company.”
Something worked hard to erupt from the ground beneath them. Marcus’ first thought was zombies. They would be low HP, slow-moving and numerous, making them perfect fodder for a starter zone.
Movement caught his eye and he span in time to see a small brown hole in the pristine green floor. It was the size of a cricket ball. Either it was the world’s smallest zombie, or something else was trying to get out. He said, “I think I may have something over here.”
Carlos and Sarah moved towards the hole, while Jas remained where she was. Nutsack was still merrily gathering nuts in his tree, oblivious to the new danger.
As Marcus stared into the hole, a small black creature jumped out and bit him on the end of his nose before disappearing back into the ground. His pride was hurt more than his health bar.
“Hey!”
“What was that?” asked Sarah, holding her hands out in front of her, ready to flame anything that moved.
“I think it was a mole.” Marcus waved his sword at the hole in a semi-threatening manner. “Keep your eyes peeled. It probably has friends.”
Carlos cheered. “Hooray, cannon fodder!” He stepped over to Marcus and waved his hands about while chanting. The golden glow topped up his health. Marcus said, “Thanks, but are the sound effects really necessary?”
