Forge of Eternity: Alpha Testing, page 10
“Fair enough,” Deacon said, sounding a little disappointed. “I’ve got my lodging taken care of already, I just figured we’d be more likely to find a healer in the temple.”
I checked his health in my user interface overlay, seeing a full green bar in the party members’ area next to his icon.
“Your health looks fine,” I said. “Oh, wait, is the big old tank worried he won’t be able to stay up without some help?”
“You want to rephrase that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” I said, realizing the teasing had a slight, unintended innuendo. “We’ll find someone to address your performance issues, but we’ll start at the inn.”
Deacon winced theatrically at my jab and we made our way into the small village. A few villagers were milling about near the market and at the docks. A ship had come in recently and there was activity bringing the day’s catch to market. There was just enough going on to keep the small town from feeling abandoned. Entering the Hook and Anchor showed a moderate crowd inside, which was a pleasant surprise.
Most of the tables had groups of either halflings, humans, or a mix of both gathered around. Deacon made to start toward a smaller, unoccupied table in the corner but I pulled him back by the hem of his shirt as I scanned the crowd. Most of the people at the inn looked like they belonged, either with their group or in general. As I continued to look around I found that nobody had the telltale signs of exclusion, confusion, or discomfort I’d expect of a new player. Damn, guess we’ll have to wait then.
“I’m going to go grab a drink and a meal. You can pick the table,” Deacon said, pulling away from my grip on his jerkin. “You want anything?”
“I was just looking to see if anyone stood out as an obvious player,” I said, blowing out a half-hearted raspberry. “I’ll follow you, I need to get a room for the night and see what I can do about being covered in dirt.”
“You planning on sleeping in VR?” Deacon asked, looking down at me.
“No, I don’t intend to sleep in VR, the tech for long-term immersive VR like that is some ways off in the future still. But I do want to be sure my character is safe when I’m gone.”
“Alright, in that case, you don’t need your own room. I’ll get you a pillow or something to sit on and your character will be all set.”
“Excuse me? I am not a dog,” I said, crossing my arms and staring back at Deacon.
“No, you’re an elf. That means you don’t sleep, and I don’t have to waste money on a bed you aren’t going to use.”
“That,” I said, relaxing my arms as I processed the words. “That actually makes a fair amount of sense. Good idea.”
Deacon gave a mock bow and started making his way over to the innkeeper. I followed after another quick glance around the room.
“Afternoon, Errol,” Deacon greeted, waving at the portly human innkeeper. “How much for a meal and a drink? Also whatever she’s having, I guess.”
Deacon gestured toward me and I flashed a smile at the older man behind the bar. He returned a grin of his own, surprisingly bright white teeth beneath his thick mustache, then set down the brownish rag he’d been using to polish the bar.
“Meal is ten copper if you want the house stew again, twelve if you want the catch of the day that just came in. Ale or porter is included with either, but if you want wine it’s an extra couple coppers.”
“Hmm, what if I brought my own meat?” Deacon asked, tapping his stony fingers against his chin.
“Five copper service fee for us to cook it or, since we don’t have a rush on the kitchen right now, you can borrow a pan and do it yourself for a single copper.”
“How much do rumors and information cost?” I asked, leaning up to the bar to cut into the conversation.
“Bah,” Errol barked out a short, explosive laugh, “I don’t trade in anything sensitive, so any rumors are on the house. We’re not exactly a big city, so I have the dubious honor of acting as the welcoming committee and local information source. What’re you looking for?”
“First off, where can I clean my gear?” I gestured to my robes. “And secondly, have you seen any new travelers like me and Deacon come through recently?”
“There’s a private well out back for patrons near the privy,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, the privy and water supply don’t mix. We took precautions after the last time.”
“Uh, anything a little more full-service than that? Any laundry services, or a place I can get its durability restored?”
Errol chuckled, then scratched at the side of his nose as he thought. “You could probably ask one of the villagers if they want to make a little coin, have them add your stuff to their own wash, I suppose. It’s late in the day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was willing to help you out. We don’t have any tailors worth their salt around here though but you can probably buy something new down at the market.”
It was clear I wasn’t going to be able to have it magically cleansed as I’d hoped. I guess some random little port town didn’t have a big need for shops tailored to adventurers. Well, time to abandon that goal for now. I can just jump in the next stream we see and hope for the best.
“What about other adventurers?” I asked again, drilling in on the second question he’d ignored. “We’re looking to add a few more to our group before we head out again and the hired help I found here wasn’t exactly worth the coin.”
Errol frowned, the expression looking unnatural on his face. His eyes darted around the tavern briefly. I expected him to lean in and whisper, based on his body language, but instead he just spoke in a quiet voice.
“I’ve seen more of you with the adventurers' curse of late,” he swallowed, looking around again. “I don’t want to make enemies and I’d rather not draw the ire of those that can return from the dead. But if you’re looking to take them with you I’m willing to point you in their direction. With some discretion on your part, of course.”
“You can count on me for that,” I said, flashing my friendliest smile and matching his hushed tone. “Where might I find one of these adventurers?”
Errol’s smile returned and he looked pointedly at a table near the center of the room. A halfling in garish, multicolored robes and a mop of wavy brown hair was standing on a chair and loudly addressing a small group. The half-dozen at the table was an even split of humans and halflings, all sporting the similar drab attire of the town.
“Well shit,” I sighed, looking at Deacon. “I guess we’ve got a bard to add to the party.”
“I hate bards, showy bastards. I was really hoping we’d find a healer first,” he said, rolling his eyes. Glad to see he was as thrilled about the development as I was.
I left Deacon at the counter to handle meals and payment, making my way to the table with the loud little man. Slowing as I got closer, I surveyed the table trying to get a bead on what was happening. The halfling held a deck of cards in one hand, waving it pointedly at the table while addressing one of the humans. Pulling up a chair to an open spot at the table, I sat down and smiled, recognizing the game.
“My dear sir,” the halfling said with what sounded like a fake, over-annunciated British accent. “As I have explained before, there is a hierarchy to the game. I must regretfully remind you that your two pair, despite being cards of higher value, is clearly inferior to the full house held by this gentleman here.”
“I don’t like this game,” the human tossed his cards to the center of the table. “Can’t we just play Primero?”
“Primero is inferior. This is a glorious game, significantly better, and I bring it to you from the glorious land of Texas!”
“You’re playing Texas Hold ‘em?” I asked, stifling a laugh.
“See, this fine creature is a woman of culture. Your pot, sir,” he said, sliding the small pile of coins from the center of the table toward one of the players. “My lady, how do you know of this game?”
“I’m uh,” I looked around at the NPCs at the table and shrugged. “I’m from the land it was made in. Like you, I assume?”
“Oh I am not from Texas, forsooth I am of the great land of Ohio,” he said, shuffling the cards with an elaborate flourish. “But you are not of Texas either, it’s not in your voice. And, I assume, that was not what you intended. Was it?”
The others at the table were watching the interaction with mild interest, mainly just waiting for cards to be passed in their direction. The halfling used a short staff to slide a large rock to the next person in the rotation and coins were placed on the table. The money accounted for, he began expertly sliding cards to the players and gave me a wink.
“You’re, uh, playing? Right?” I asked, receiving a blank stare in return. Time to give up on the subtlety. “As in, you’re in Forge of Eternity?”
The man’s smile widened. “I’ll admit to playing multiple games. Yes, in sooth, I am of your world originally, newly minted in this one as a man of luck.”
“So are you, like, a Bard or a Rogue? You playing in VR or…” I trailed off, rolling my hands in a gesture inviting him to speak.
“My lady, your manners are clearly of another place,” he said, mock horror on his face. “You ask a man for intimate details of his activities without the courtesy to learn his name?”
This time I didn’t try to hide the laugh and smiled. “I’m sorry, yes that was rude. Forgive me. My name is Amalie Valeth, Elemental Mage. And you are?”
I extended for a handshake and he stepped forward onto the table, grasping my hand with both of his. Instead of a shake, he raised it to his lips with his head bowed.
“Well met, ‘tis a pleasure,” he said, bowing low with one leg extended. He then stood upright and thrust his arms out to the side. “You may call me Gavin. Gavin Outbuffs. I have been lucky enough to find myself as a follower of Fortuna. I have pledged my days to furthering my deity’s influence on this world, be it through worship at a game of chance or on the field against worthy foes, as a means to increase my own. With Fortuna’s blessing, I do hope our paths may be headed in the same direction, for this world is now my only world and I need companions to face it in earnest.”
“Seriously?” I asked, holding in laughter at the ridiculous little man. “All this roleplay and your name is Gavin Outbuffs. Sit down please, you’re making a scene. Are you saying you’re a cleric? Does that mean you’re a healer, or just like some sort of support role?”
“The goddess Fortuna grants me the power to heal or harm, as the circumstances need and my faith guides,” he nodded. “I do hope you are looking for others to join you on a quest. Is it so? Has my goddess led you here?”
I nodded as I laughed, feeling my face turn red. I saw Deacon walking my way and couldn’t control my laughter anymore. The sincerity of the delivery, combined with his ridiculous behavior and the incongruity of his name was too much. And this man was going to be the one keeping us, well mainly Deacon, alive? Oh, this was going to be good.
“Deacon,” I yelled at a break in the giggles, “I found our healer!”
Deacon - Looking for Group
I watched Amalie go to join the table with the small flamboyant man, happy to hang back for a few minutes. Fine by me if she wants to do the recruiting, I trust she’ll vet out his skills and class to make sure he can pull his weight. Not that party composition was really a problem at the moment with just a tank and ranged damage dealer. We could feasibly add any competent player and be fine. Looking around the room again, I revised that sentiment. At this point, we could add any player that wasn’t an outright liability. The options in this town were limited and anyone respawnable we could take along would be valuable, even just as cannon fodder.
“So, what’ll it be?” the innkeeper asked startling me out of my thoughts.
“Oh, sorry. Can you cook up some of this bear meat? I’ll also take a couple, uh, porters I guess.”
I fished out the copper coins and placed a couple of slabs of bear meat on the bar. Errol gave me a withering glare, lifting the meat chunks off the counter as he tossed me a wet rag. I sheepishly cleaned up the small pool of blood and juices.
“My bad,” I said when he returned with two full tankards. “Wasn’t really thinking items from my inventory would make a mess.”
“I haven’t met many of your kind, but you all seem lacking in the sense the gods gave horses,” he said absently, before stiffening for a second with his eyes wide. “I mean no offense by that, mind you.”
“Relax,” I said, grabbing the drinks. “You’re not wrong, and you actually raise a good point. I kinda ran off to start questing and fighting without really taking the time to assess my situation here. Any suggestions on being better prepared for the world?”
The innkeeper scratched at the side of his nose then stroked his mustache in thought. “I’m not really equipped to give life lessons that should have been provided by your parents. You don’t seem to be an ass, so you’ll do fine. You can fend for yourself, judging by your weapons and the meat you had on you.”
“Yeah, but what about stats and mechanics?” I asked. “Like, should I have taken you up on the offer to cook my own food to level my cooking skill? What are the numeric increases of my abilities equivalent to?”
“Uh,” Errol gave me a blank stare, “I don’t think I have the information you’re looking for. I’m just an innkeeper in an unpopular port town near an almost empty mine. I neither have, nor want, the adventurers' curse and the burdens that accompany it. Outside of the large cities, you are going to be hard-pressed to find anyone to help with the more, er, unique concerns of adventurers.”
“Oh,” I said, a little disappointed. “I was hoping you’d be able to give me some context but I guess that makes sense. It would be a little weird if everybody knew objective quantifiable details about themselves like that.”
The innkeeper shrugged and turned his attention to another patron who had arrived. Taking the hint, I turned and made my way over to Amalie. She was blushing and laughing where she sat as the halfling stood on the table and spoke with her.
“Deacon,” she yelled, taking a deep breath as she laughed. “I found our healer!”
I felt equal parts joy and apprehension fill me as I approached. The tiny man in garish clothing running what looked like a card game was not what I expected out of a healer. Some of the members of the table shifted to make room as I approached.
“Well met, Master Deacon!” he greeted with a bow.
“Oh no,” the words left my mouth without my conscious consent.
“Deacon, meet Gavin Outbuffs,” Amalie giggled. “That’s his name and his profession I guess. He’s a cleric of a luck god, but he can do healing. You said you wanted a healer. Gavin this is our tank, Deacon. You’ll be healing him a lot.”
“Lady Amalie, your manners have improved greatly in this short time. I can only assume that is my influence. So, what is our great quest?”
“That’s going to get old fast,” I said, handing Amalie one of the tankards. I pulled up a chair, much to the visible annoyance of the group sitting around the table. “But we’re doing some pest removal for the nearby mine. It was a little much for just the two of us.”
“Hey, we going to play or what?” a female halfling at the table called out.
Gavin hit himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand, then plopped himself back in his seat, looking around at the table full of sour-faced card players. “My apologies for the delay lords and ladies, I allowed the time to get away from me with the arrival of these new friends. This will be the last hand for the time being. I see the blinds are in, let us proceed. Lady Amalie and master Deacon, I shall meet with you to discuss the quest shortly.”
“He hasn’t broken character once,” Amalie said, finally over the giggles. “Isn’t this the best?”
I made a non-committal sound and sipped at my drink as we waited for the cleric to finish his card game. Amalie filled me in on the meager details she had gathered so far, which didn’t exactly fill me with joy. The “anyone who wasn’t a liability” requirement I made up was apparently too broad and I figured I’d add some more qualifiers before suggesting it to Amalie.
“Hello Friends,” Gavin greeted cheerily as he climbed into a seat at the table. “I must say it is refreshing to see I am not the only one of my kind in the town.”
“I don’t know,” Amalie said with a wide grin. “You seem pretty one of a kind.”
“I shall take that as a compliment even if that was not your intent,” he winked before continuing. “In sooth, I must confess that I may overindulge in theatrics a bit, but where’s the harm in a little fun?”
“It kind of harms my brain a bit,” I said, with only a hint of frustration in my tone. “So, Amalie said you’re a cleric of some kind? Meaning you can heal?”
“Verily, the goddess Fortuna grants me power in exchange for faith,” the little man said with enthusiasm.
As soon as he finished talking he jumped to his feet on the table and swung his staff like a baseball bat, catching me at the top of my right shoulder joint.
Gavin Outbuffs attacks you for 3 points of damage.
“You son of a,” I made to stand, taken completely off guard by the sudden attack. The halfling stepped back to the far edge of the table and held his staff in front of him, pointing at me. I fumbled my sword from its scabbard, but the pain from raising my arm caused me to drop it out of reflex.
Suddenly I felt a numbing warmth radiate from my injured shoulder, coupled with a new notification in my combat log.
Gavin Outbuffs heals you for 3 points of damage.
“Hey!” Errol’s familiar voice called from the bar. “This is your second, and final, warning!”
“It shan’t happen again, m’lord,” Gavin said, having the decency to look embarrassed. “No harm was intended.”
“I don’t care if you intend to kill each other or just show off, as long as you do it outside.”
