Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon) (17 page)

I noted mechanically that Kort said "twenty people," as if he were talking about humans. Indeed, the locals seemed to regard themselves as people despite being well aware of their differences from real humans.

"The beast must be killed for its sorcery to be lifted. But finding it is extremely difficult as it camouflages extremely well. For the most part, only a skilled necromancer will tell it apart from a living creature. This is where you come in."

"But I'm no necromancer," I objected in surprise.

"I know that!" Kort waved dismissively. "There's an old with living nearby named Mirana. In her youth she dabbled in all sorts of... methods. I bet she's got a remedy, only she's such a nasty hag that you can't help but want to smash her face in. I feel awkward approaching her," Kort frowned, seemingly remembering some episode from his complicated relationship with the local witch. "But you should be able to convince her. I will give you my sword as a token of my gratitude. It should fit your hand perfectly. I've been saving it for my son, so I hope you appreciate the gesture."

You've accessed the quest: Trap for a Karriga I.

Quest type: normal, chain.

Procure a means of detecting a karriga from Mirana the witch.

Reward: experience; Kort's Lightsword.

"So, she will just give me what we need?" I asked Kort after accepting the quest.

"I doubt it will be that easy," he shook his head. "But it occurs to me that the man who had vanquished Shaartakh will find the arguments needed to convince the old hag."

"What arguments would those be?" I asked, though a curious thought had already sprang up in my mind.

"A clever mage like you will figure it out," Kort grinned. "Your lot is quite skilled at persuading women to, you know... Maybe you could—" he stopped short, giving me a dubious look, then shook his head. "Scratch that, there's not enough swill in our whole village; besides, you couldn't handle the volume. Play it by ear—that's my advice. But if you decide to beat it out of her, don't hit too hard, all right? She does prove useful on occasion—a very rare occasion," the innkeeper burst out laughing.

"Where does she even live? And where do I find the local blacksmith and alchemist?" I asked.

"Give me your map, I'll mark their locations."

While Kort was drawing on the map and writing a note for the blacksmith, I ran up to my room to pick up fifty gold and another vial.

"Here, take this to Snorri. Otherwise that wily ferret will fleece you for all you've got."

I accepted the note.

"Mirana is the finest alchemist around, and she's got plenty of goodies for sale. I will also write a letter to my old commander in the city; he will help you with some advice about returning back there," he stuck his thumb behind him, apparently talking about Erantia.

"Kort, tell me briefly about these lands," I asked him, realizing that I might not get another chance to learn about where I was for quite a while.

According to Kort, Demon Grounds were nearly identical to any other nation in Arkon, only about twice as large. The nation of Alcmehn comprised seventeen dominions, sixteen of which were subject to the central and (by popular opinion) only civilized one in Balliose. The capital was Iskhart, which the developers had designed as a starting city, and it was ruled by Ahriman the Overlord. The collective might of Balliose was roughly ten times greater than the strongest of their subject dominions. It also contained the sealed passage to the Netherworld, though its exact location was unknown to the masses.

At the head of each dominion was a lord to whom all the princes—masters of the provinces—swore fealty. Satraps—another type of hereditary nobility—swore fealty to both the lord and to the princes, depending on whose land their estate was situated on.

To the south, the demon state bordered barbarian lands. Barbarians were demons that lacked a centralized government; led by small councils of elders, they occasionally crossed the border into Alcmehn to raid and pillage. Sometimes the lords reacted in kind. But for the most part, the lords and the barbarians engaged in endemic warfare.

Jarus Province where I ended up was ruled by Prince Ar-Iraz. Lamorna Village was situated practically on the border with the central province of Ashtar Dominion, serving as a transit point. It was the hub where several trading routes came together, used by caravans to travel to Nittal and other towns in the neighboring provinces, and back. For this reason, fifty legionnaires were permanently stationed here. Though Ashtar shared its southern border with barbarians, the latter almost never bothered the dominion. Most of the danger came from the tense relations with the neighboring dominions of Rualt and Lakia, spilling over into some kind of armed conflict every ten-twenty years. Sometimes those were contained to minor border skirmishes; other times whole provinces passed from one dominion to another.

I felt that I'd learned all that I needed to know, except for one final question that needed clarifying.

"Listen, Kort, the soldiers at the gates sent me to see Vellakh the elder. But when I addressed him as such, he gave me a sour look and said that he was no elder. What am I missing here?"

Kort chuckled.

"At the Barley Festival last year he'd had a few too many—or maybe more than a few—picked up the elder's daughter, and the two had themselves a fun time in the hayloft. The girl was only too happy—it was her first time, ain't exactly a beauty queen. So one of his legionnaires blabs, 'Check it, our commander has got his sights on an elder's post!' And it took off from there..."

The smithy was located near the western gates, which I would soon need to take out of the village to get to Mirana's hut. The guards at the gate were hardly enthused by their neighbor, but their opinion mattered little. Snorri the blacksmith—a stocky, broad-shouldered demon, looking like a beardless dwarf—was shaping a blank on an anvil that another demon, apparently his apprentice, was holding down with a pair of tongs.

I waited a few moments to draw their attention. When that didn't happen, I walked up closer and shouted, trying to make myself heard over the clanging of metal.

"Are you Master Snorri?"

I had to wait another minute or so for the blacksmith to put aside the hammer and come out to me from under the tent.

"Why are you yelling, scaring my apprentice?" he asked dourly, shooting me a quizzical look. It didn't get any more dwarf than that! The heavy look made me ill at ease, but I fought through the discomfort.

"Kort sent me. He said you're the best blacksmith around." I handed him the note.

"And what do you want?" barked the blacksmith, completely ignoring my attempt at flattery. He scanned the note and stuffed it in his apron pocket.

"A suit of armor. A full one. For me." I replied.

"When?"

"Either now or later, but sometime today," I shrugged. "I'm setting out to Nittal tomorrow with the caravan."

"Would you like me to forge you a djerngir while I'm at it? It's no bother—five minutes is all I need," Snorri looked at me as if I were either mad or an idiot.

"No, no djerngir necessary," I said, having zero clue as to what that even was. "Just armor, eight pieces of it," I repaid him with the exact same look. "And you don't need to forge anything, I'm looking to buy. Kort said you've got plenty of wares for sale."

"Like he knows," the master groused. "I ain't got anything at the moment. "I promised the last set to that merchant, Torius." He motioned at the anvil behind him, "just finishing up the greaves now."

"What if I beat his price?" I wasn't happy with the prospect of traveling without armor. No one knew what awaited us on the road, and I doubted we'd be traveling through zones where I could solo even one mob. If anything, a suit of armor increased my chances of survival.

"No," drawled the dwarf, err, demon. "I've got, whatchamacallit..." he twirled his index finger through the air, "professional ethic, right. Esteemed Torius promised me thirty five 'yellows,'" Snorri looked at me askance, gauging my reaction. "Do you expect me to let him down?"

With a sigh, I counted off fifty coins and weighed them in my hand.

"There's fifty here," I shrugged. "But if your professional ethic forbids you from accepting it, I have no choice but—"

"We'll bring the set to the inn in two hours," the blacksmith cut me off, reaching out his hand. "As for the, uh, professional ethic," Snorri puckered his brow, recalling the difficult term, "I find the notion rather ambiguous. Now go and stop getting in the way," he waved me away and rejoined his waiting apprentice.

Mirana's house was a half an hour's walk from Lamorna, nestled in a small grove off the side of the road, and I managed to get there without trouble. Indeed, the trouble began only on my approach. The house looked entirely ordinary—nothing sinister or macabre, like owls, skeletal decorations, black cats or bloodsucking bats. It was your typical log cabin with a green roof and a serpent for a weather-vane. The trouble came in the form of a huge Doberman—or a creature the size of a pony resembling one—that appeared out of nowhere and snarled at me as I froze with fear, then took a seat right across. Its black tongue was sticking out of its mouth, a thin thread of slobber running down the muzzle.

I liked dogs, generally speaking, but when you find yourself standing opposite one that's level 180 and staring at you with hungry eyes, you can't help but feel ill at ease. So it went on: me standing there, afraid to exhale, trying to mutter something pacifying, and the Doberman, looking suspiciously like the beasts that had torn the courier to shreds, dribbling as it examined me. The canine's patience gave out first, as it leaped up to all fours and barked. The hut's door creaked, and an old demoness in a plain dress crawled out, leaning on a walking stick. Squinting at the sun near-sightedly, she croaked.

"Who goes there, Hart take you?" she said, then continued incredulously. "A light one? What hole did you crawl out of? Get back and don't get in the way, Khron," the last part was for the dog, who turned right around and vanished behind the hut.

"Did you go deaf with fear?" the old woman turned back to me. "Speak your business."

Interesting horns,
I thought. Unlike with others, they didn't stick outward but ran as if alongside the skull.              

"Why don't you invite me in first, feed my hunger and quench my thirst, before pelting me with questions?" I countered.

"Shall I draw you a bath and make a bed for the night, too? Gee, I'd like that!" The woman licked her wrinkled lips suggestively, making me shudder.

"That's not why I'm here," I shot back hastily. "And I'm really not that hungry."

Mirana chuckled and motioned toward the house.

"You're already here, might as well come inside," and she headed inside first.

I followed her in and took a look around. The interior of the house was prototypical: bunches of herbs and dried mushrooms hanging off the ceiling, vessels of yellowy substance on the windowsill. There was also a black cat—sleeping soundly on the bench who didn't even bother moving to acknowledge my visit.

"Well, light one, speak," the old woman sat at a table and peered at me intently.              

"I need to track a karriga, so I've come to..." I briefed her on what had been happening in the village.

"A karriga, eh," the crone muttered. "A vile beast, that one. I will help you. But it won't be free. Do me a service, and you'll get what you need."

"What service?" I inquired warily.

"Bring me herbs from a nearby cave. And the slime of a speckled toad—they roam nearby. Come back when you're done, and I'll teach you how to draw out the beast."

You've accessed the quest: Ingredients for Mirana.

Quest type: normal.

Bring Mirana 10 tufts of Winterberry and 5 vials of Speckled Toad Slime.

Reward: experience, Potion of Two Moons.

I was in no hurry to accept. The zone was level 170+, which meant the toads were that level as well. Even if the herbs grew right there on the path, somehow I doubted the speckled toads would welcome my attempts at scrubbing the slime off them. Nor did I have any vessels, which meant the toads had to be killed. And only a complete noob would try to solo a mob one hundred levels higher than him. Those toads would dispense with me in a couple of bites. Even if I wore a full epic set, I wouldn't survive more than three minutes against a level 170 mob. The level difference was simply too much.

A decently equipped player might be able to handle a mob within ten levels of him. With excellent equipment, up to about thirty levels. And even then he would need a lot of things to go right.

Therefore, my chances against the toads were nil. Now, I could always go back and get Kort, but I would hate to lose his respect. Shaartakh's slayer chickening out of a fight with toads? No, that wouldn't do. I rejected the quest.

"Madam, I'm in a hurry. Besides, I'm for the ethical treatment of animals," I began a heartfelt speech. "Is there another way to repay you?"

"You are truly shameless," the witch clicked her tongue incredulously. "My great-grandma used to say that light ones chased after every skirt, but I didn't believe her. Oh, if not for your defenses, you'd be seeing me the way I was fifty years ago. I don't know who put them up, but clearly it was a great master."