“You must report your success to the Honorlord. He will undoubtedly want us to push against the elves now that we have an opening.” The minotaur says, rewarding us with another quest.
Report to the Honorlord accepted.
Report to Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer 0/1
“Right, we have to go to Masstaoir and let the Honorlord know we beat the tree. Then he’ll send us back here, and we’ll get a quest to clear E.S.” Peter says. “That stands for Elf Stronghold, it’s a dungeon.” he clarifies.
“How do you know?” I ask, looking in the direction of the city. It’s quite a ways away on foot.
“I watched someone go through this whole storyline.” He tells me. He also mentioned having a max level wizard, which I realize could also explain his knowledge.
“Hey, do you recognize me?” I finally decide to ask.
“Uh, no, sorry. I can’t see your face though your helmet and your name doesn’t seem familiar.” Right, the last time he saw me I was barely clothed and my name was Urul. I open my settings, remembering there’s a option to only show my helm in combat.
“When we met I was Urul Mulush.” I say, watching his eyes light up
“The guy roleplaying as an armor vendor!” he says, snapping his fingers. “Right! Finally decided to get out there, huh?”
“Something like that.” I turn to the woods. “Should we stay here and grind, or go see the Honorlord?
“We can do both. Just take our sweet time and kill everything we see on the way there.” He marches ahead, daggers drawn.
I follow him out, stepping carefully through the woods as we make a beeline straight for Masstaoir instead of taking the road. As I spot an elf in front of us, Peter goes translucent, half crouching and walking up to them. He must be invisible to them, because they don’t react. He stabs both daggers into the elf’s back, earning a shout and a returning blow. They trade blade strikes for a few seconds.
Mind killing that elf? I think, purposely communicating with Esquire directly.
Certainly sir.
He freely floats out of the sheath and flies through the air, decapitating the elf in one smooth motion. He floats casually back to my side, staying unsheathed and ready to strike again. I stare down at the body, it’s spraying blood from the stump. I feel nauseous again. Full immersion has only made this part of the game worse.
“I'll never get over how cool that is” Peter says after looting the elf.
I look at him in horror, thinking he’s enjoying gore in front of us. I realize he’s talking about Esquire flying around and taking care of the elf itself. He's had immersion turned on for weeks, he’s probably completely used to this by now. Should a video game really have this kind of stuff in it? I hope children don’t play.
We continue like this for a few hours, I let Peter get a few hits in before sending Esquire to finish the job. The blade makes quite a show of it, dancing around the elves and swinging in wide arcs. He makes unnecessary sounds of exertion and taunts in my head, unheard by anyone else. I level up four more times before we reach the border of Masstaoir.
“I’ve never been to this area” I say, taking in the different buildings in this section of the city. They are made of wood and metal, not a single mud hut in sight. There are guards stationed at the gate and at regular intervals inside. The shops have higher quality gear on display, and everything is cleaner.
“Oh yeah, there’s a whole expansion about how rich and nice things are for this side of town. We pretty much burn it all to the ground.” Peter remarks casually.
“What?” I stop on the paved street. “Why the hell are we walking right up to the king or whatever if we’re enemies?”
“Well, we’re not enemies yet.” he says, unbothered. “And we don’t have a king. The humans have a king. We have an Honorlord. It might not seem like a big difference but when we get to that part of the story it’s important”
“Alright” I say, continuing down the street, wary of the high-level guards. They pay me no mind. Just like any regular non player character that doesn’t have a quest or service for me. Empty stares at nothing.
We make it to a huge building the size of a mansion, built like a fortress. The walls are reinforced with crossed logs and metal, every inch ready to repel invaders. As we enter, the guards stand at attention, presenting their spears and shields. I jump at the sudden movement. Through several thresholds with portcullis held up high, we enter the main hall, torchlit, filled with long tables and chairs, with an occupied throne in the back. Not a king, huh?
“Scuse us” Peter says to the unresponsive characters with humor in his tone. He walks right down the center between two long tables, not colliding with the figures occupying them. He passes through them like a ghost, coming face-to-face with the Honorlord.
I follow behind, raising my arms to avoid contact. It’s still really unnerving to share space with others like that.
Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??
Wauktug, First Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. level ??
“Speak.” the orc standing next to the throne, Wauktug, barks. He has a striking resebelace to the Honorlord seated beside him, olive green skin and dark, braided hair draped over his armored chest. The axe strapped to his back almost scrapes the floor, so large I can see the blade and pommel from the front. The Honorlord is wearing decorated armor, a dark metal with a huge pelt draped over his shoulders. The wolf’s head on his right stares just as menacingly at us as he does. His axe rests on the floor, an evil looking black edge with a swirling blood red engraving.
“We've cleared the way for the Gormer Outpost to make the final push to the Elf Stronghold, My lords.” Peter says. It sounds very respectful and clear. I wonder why he’s interacting with them this way. They’re not players, right? The throne made of skulls creaks as the Honorlord rises from it.
“Then why are you here?” he says, with a deep, unnerving voice. The question sounds more like a threat.
“We were instructed to report our progress to you personally, Lord.” Peter responds, confidently. “We shall depart immediately for the stronghold.”
The Honorlord grunts, taking a seat. Peter turns to walk away as I stay behind.
“Are you people?” I ask, regretting it immediately as the attendant son draws his axe and steps towards me. I back up, bumping the table behind me.
“How dare you? Only a human spy would question the Honorlord in such a way. Are you a human spy?” The orc gets in my face, axe pressed into my chest. It hurts.
“I apologize for my comrade, Lord.” Peter steps next to me. “He suffered a head injury and has yet to recover. Please Earl, let's go.” he grabs my elbow, pulling me away. The orc grunts, shoving me in the back with his axe as I'm dragged out. I feel it piece my skin, blood running under my armor. “You have to talk to them like real people. Now that your immersion is turned on, certain N.P.C.s will act like people and expect you to treat them that way.”
“He hurt me.” I say, baffled. Nothing has so much as laid a finger on me since I put on this armor. How did he manage to go through it, and my shield? “How?”
“Did you see his level? Peter asks as we stop outside. I look back in.
“Question marks?” I say. “That's his level?”
“That means no matter what level you are, he’s higher. The Honorlord has like ten kids and they’re all question mark question mark." Peter tells me. “They could all kill you in one hit unless you’re max level. Max level for the first expansion, at least. Level seventy.”
“Jesus.” I say, though I'm not sure why. “How do you know when you have to talk to them like people?”
“They've got names.” Peter answers. “Mergigoth and Wauktug. When they have generic nouns over their heads,” he pauses, pointing to a nearby guard with “Masstaoir City Guard” above his head. “They are just unintelligent game pieces.”
“Thank you” I say, both for his explanation and for pulling me away from the danger.
This interaction makes me wonder though, are the named N.P.C.s like me? If so, they are really committed to the bit. Peter didn’t treat me like a vendor when we first met, maybe because I couldn't act my way out of a paper bag.
“N.P. dude. I should've warned you before we went in.” Peter says with an apologetic look. “The R.N.P.C.s take some getting used to.”
“R.N.P.C.?” I sound out the acronym letter by letter.
“Real non-player character. It's the community term for A.I. controlled N.P.C.s.”
“Did I seem like one of them when we first met?”
“No.” Peter laughs at me, unable to stop himself. “All of the R.N.P.C.s are established characters in the game lore. On top of that, the creators of the game had demo videos about them. It was a big deal when the game first came out, an ‘innovative new technology’, they called it.”
“Oh ok.” I say, somewhat reassured. “Shoot, do I need to go back in there to turn in the quest?”
“You can turn in the quest anywhere once you’ve talked to the Honorlord.” Peter informs me. The quest information on the right has a Complete Quest button next to it. I press it.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Report to the Honorlord completed! experience gained.
level 10 reached!
Strength increased by 4%!
Agility increased by 4%!
Intelligence increased by 4%!
Class now available!
Talents now available!
Dungeons now available!
I open the Talents page, but I still can't interact with it. A Class Selection button is highlighted in the middle. I press it, and a new menu opens
Classes available: [Warrior] [Rogue] [Wizard]
Special class available: [Weaponmaster]
I arch an eyebrow when I notice the special class. Hovering over the button, it explains I unlocked it by wielding Esquire. My instincts tell me there’s more to it than that, but I am provided no further details.
“Huh” I say aloud.
“I think you should go for warrior. You could choose anything, but that sword and your heavy armor are suited for high strength builds. Of course any class can focus on strength, but it’s sub-optimal. At least that's what top-tier players would tell you.” Peter starts a long winded explanation of class choices and the stats associated with them. He mentions something called the “Meta”. I try to wait for him to finish but the end doesn't seem near.
“What about Weaponmaster?” I ask, interrupting him.
“Weaponmaster? Is that one of your choices?” Peter takes a breath.
“Yeah, it says it’s a special class I got because of my sword.”
No thanks necessary, Sir.
Why didn't you defend me in there? I ask mentally, realizing the sword had not moved an inch during that whole ordeal with the Honorlord.
I apologize sir, I dare not raise a hand to royalty. Sullying your reputation, and compromising your position as a royal knight is unthinkable.
You don’t have a hand, I think without purposefully projecting the thought to Esquire.
“A special class already? Sick dude. those unlock after you meet a condition, but never at level ten. Most players don’t bother with them because by the time they unlock them, they are so used to the class they’re already playing. What's it do?”
“Let me see.” I press the class button.
Weaponmaster: A Telekinetic combatant with the ability to control their weapons more effectively than any other. The general standing behind their army of steel.
I read aloud for Peter. “So it's a class that is better at what I was doing already. Should I pick it?”
“Let me check the forums.” Peter goes completely still, his eyes glazing over.
I check the Help button in the ESC menu, but it still fails to connect for me.
Peter stays that way for an annoyingly long time before he suddenly starts breathing again, a confused look forming on his face. “Nothing. I can't find a single mention of it anywhere.”
“Does that mean nobody picks it? Is it a bad class?” I ask, wandering over to the warrior button in my vision.
“No dude that means you're the first person to unlock it. You have to pick it!” he practically hops with excitement. “There’s no lore in the game either, I’d know.” I press the Weaponmaster button, and several things happen simultaneously. My class menu is replaced by the talents menu, several new spells gently descend onto my action bar with a flourish. One of them has an image of a stout hammer gripped tightly. The spell next to it is an image of an ethereal spear, translucent and sparkly light blue. The talents menu has three columns, with options at the top.
One-armed Swordsman: Wielder of one weapon, you focus all of your power into powerful strikes. A single-minded damage dealer that quickly dispatches single targets.
Armorer: Your options are as plentiful as your weapons. A versatile damage dealer that spreads his weapons around a single or multiple enemies.
Wall of Swords: The best defense is a good offense, a lesson you’ve taken to heart. A tank with illusionary abilities to confuse enemies as you get their attention from multiple directions.
I read my talent choices aloud. “Those all sound so cool!” Peter listens intently, slack-jawed. “Tanks are the most valuable players. If you don’t mind the pressure, and taking a beating, I’d go with that.”
“What's a tank?” I ask, rereading the Wall of Swords description.
“In a group, they are the ones in front. They get the attention of enemies, and prevent them from hurting your damage dealers and healers. Smaller dungeon groups only bring one, so it’s on you to protect everyone else. Larger raids require a pair of tanks, and you have to have good chemistry with them to be successful.” Peter gives me the rundown.
“And if I chose the other talents my only responsibility would be dealing damage?” I ask, wondering if I could also heal, but not needing an explanation for that job.
“Yeah. It’s a lot easier, but you’ll have a harder time finding groups. You'll end up waiting for your group to find a tank every time.” Peter nods. “Also, I don't know if you realize this, but you’re choosing a talent tree. As you level, you’ll get more spells and abilities that improve your ability to do the thing your specialization is meant to do.”
“Got it… and if I change my mind?” I hesitate over my choices.
“Once you’ve made your decision, the in-game store unlocks, and you can pay to change your specialization.” Peter seems distracted suddenly. “Hey, I've got to log off for the night. School in the morning. I'd love to play with you again tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Sure.” I say. He seems immature, but I hadn't realized he was actually a kid. In that adult character, there’s no way for me to have known. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
“Sixteen,” he answers. “You?”
It takes me an uncomfortably long time to answer. “Thirty” I say, guessing. It didn't occur to me until this moment that I don't know.
“Cool. Alright old man, don’t stay up too late!” He smiles just before vanishing. I smirk in return. Turning my attention back to my specialization choices, I finally settle on Wall of Swords. If I regret it, I can just change it back, like Peter said.
Store now available!
The talents menu highlights the column with Wall of Swords at the top. Small boxes appear with spells in them, all linked together with lines like the roots of a tree. It says I need to level up before I can pick any, so I close it. Thinking S opens the store menu. My vision is filled with bright colors and flashing notifications, like I’ve just stepped into a casino. Services, armor, weapons, pets, and mounts appear in the overwhelming storefront. Everything is labeled “cosmetic”, making it clear they would give no stat advantage. Looking at the strange assortment of creatures called mounts, it takes some hunting around to discover they are restricted to players at level twenty.
The blood drains from my face as I read a section tucked away in the corner of the menu I hadn't noticed until now.
Remaining game time: 29 days, 2 hours.
This game is on a subscription model. Pressing the Buy Time button explains to me I can either pay twenty dollars, whatever that means, or five-hundred thousand gold. If my time runs out, would I go back to shopkeeping? Would I cease to exist? As I ponder my fate, my legs are already headed in the direction of the dungeon I’m meant to conquer.
I run, opening the store screen to nervously check the timer every few feet. 29 days, 2 hours. I have less than a month to raise… four hundred ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine gold. and forty silver. “I only have sixty fucking silver” I say aloud, my heart beating out of my chest. “How the fuck am I supposed to get that much fucking gold?” The boars and elves I've killed only drop a few copper pieces. The only reason I have any money at all is looting it off of them. I need to sell the other crap they dropped to get a better picture of my actual funds, but I already know it won’t be pretty.
Earl says: Hey, how do you make enough gold to buy time?
Hobag says: dance on the mailbox outside of the auction house.
Mypeanits says: sell your body
Wellaktchuale says: You’re lvl 10. there’s no way to make that much gold until you’re max lvl.
Reddress says: unless you get and auction a rare drop.
I open a private chat with Reddress, the only person who gave a helpful answer.
Earl says: Rare drop?
Reddress says: yeh, like a baby goblin pet. easy mil.
Earl says: You can sell baby goblins???
Reddress says: yeah its pretty fucked up but theyre cute so its whatever
Earl says: Thank you. Where would I get one of those to drop?
Reddress says: NP. The baby goblin drops from goblin rebels in TH. It’s a dungeon for lvl 20.
You have added Reddress as a friend.
I can’t have enough helpful people on my friends list if I have less than a month to put the gold together. Maybe this E.F. dungeon has a rare drop too. An hour later, I arrive at the entrance, a great archway containing a swirling portal, free-standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Several groups of players are standing idly outside. I noticed some chatter from them looking for more players, but I decided to wait until I got here to join anyone. I send a private message to the most recent player to say “LF tank EF” and they invite me to the group.
“Hello” I say. None of them respond, quickly sprinting through the portal. Alrighty then. I follow them. My vision is obstructed by the image of a voluptuous elf archer twisting her body at a painful angle to show off both her front and back assets, in front of a wooden structure. A bar grows across the bottom of my vision. Loading Dungeon.
As soon as the elf threatening me with her bow vanishes, I watch my party members sprinting forward into the wood building I had seen moments ago on the loading screen. It doesn't look like the wood used was harvested normally, it still has branches and moss, and is not cut to fix together snugly. If I had to guess, the trees were encouraged to grow a certain way to create the structure, or already grown trees were molded by magic. Only after hearing the sounds of combat do I realize my group has gotten started without me. I rush to catch up, finding them throwing down with a group of three elves.
I command esquire to deal with them, he flies from my hip and cuts them down easily. My group takes seconds to loot and is already on the move again. I lag behind, trying to catch up as they engage more groups of elves, Esquire deals with them in my stead. They finally come to a stop in front of a treant in a large courtyard.
Ashsplinter the Living Siege Weapon. Level 16
“Trespassers” a booming voice echoes around us. “You have desecrated these forests with your presence long enough.” The treant’s name changes from green to red. The party immediately rushes forward and begins hacking at his shins. Esquire waits for me to catch up, letting them get a few swings in.
Shall I, sir?
Hold on, I think to him. I want to see if they can handle it themselves. As one of the party member’s health plummets, and the healer stops whacking the boss to try to restore some of it, the dying player says “Tank” in the chat. I guess they just expect me to keep up without a word. don’t they realize this is my first dungeon? I grasp Esquire, charging in. One swing is all it takes, like usual. The treant collapses to the ground, the party loots it, and charges ahead without me.
Ashplsinter the Living Siege Weapon slain! Experience gained.
You’ve reached level 11!
Strength increased by 4%!
Agility increased by 4%!
Intelligence increased by 4%!
You’ve reached level 12!
Strength increased by 4%!
Agility increased by 4%!
Intelligence increased by 4%!
You have looted Branch of Ashplinter
Interesting, I jumped by two levels and my loot has a fanciful name, instead of Generic Garbage Stick. I open my inventory and hover over it.
Branch of Ashplinter - Rare Two-handed Staff - Requires level 15 - Minimum Intellect - Minimum Blunt Damage
My first rare drop, neat. It has intellect, instead of strength. I wonder if it would even help my warrior-esque class. It’s not worth equipping over Esquire, and it’s especially not worth thinking about while my group is fighting without me. I take off, pumping my legs but finding that my running speed caps out at the same pace as everyone else, no matter how much effort I put in. When I catch up, they’re in a losing fight against more elves. I slash through the entire group, taking them down in a single blow. Loot and run, loot and run. The group makes no effort to make sure I'm keeping up, even as their health bars plummet.
They come to a sudden stop again, this time in front of a single elf. She is dressed in a wide robe, interwoven with sticks and leaves. A staff that looks a lot like the one I looted earlier, a wooden shaft with leaves sprouting from it, is strapped to her back.
Talindra Quidove, Guardian of Gormer. Level 17
“The trees scream for justice!” The elf yells, attacking us first. She casts a spell that looks like a ball of leaves flying from her hands at high speed. It impacts one of the damage dealers of my party and knocks off half of his health. Before the elf can get another cast off, I step in between her and my party, not taking any damage from the second or third cast. I casually walk up to her and poke her midsection with Esquire. Her health drops to fifty percent exactly, no further.
“Nature’s wrath!” she yells, casting another spell, but this one looks different. She's pulled her hands together, as if the spell won’t be shot towards us, but will be centered on her instead. It’s also taking a lot longer to cast. I look around for my group, finding them huddled behind a rock. Why aren't they attacking her?
What specilization would you have chosen?
