Know Your Roll Read online

  The animal’s impatience made the Hunter even antsier. He prodded the quest rewards with his hand hard enough to risk losing a fingertip. “Are these the only two options?”

  “Sadly, yes.” The glowing question mark above my head pulsed and drizzled a fresh line of sparks as the power inexplicably surged. The dodgy wiring wasn’t getting any younger, and neither was I. “Look,” I said, trying to make peace with this guy for both our sakes, “let me give you some advice, yeah?”

  “Why should I?” he demanded, and for a second I thought he might hit me again.

  I locked eyes with him before making a show of flicking my gaze over his shoulder toward the throng of Heroes glaring daggers at his back. “Because the line’s not getting any shorter, and they’re far more likely to take it out on you then me. I can grant them experience and their pick of a vendor trash tier weapon. What can you offer?”

  “I will hear your advice,” he said, in as thankless a tone as had ever graced my ears.

  “That’s very kind of you… Anyway, the longer you stand there studying these blades, the less chance you have of your head hitting your pillow instead of the cobblestone outside. Neither one of these items is going to remain in your inventory for long.”

  Even from outside, the wolf’s keen ears heard me and growled in agreement. He could sense that I was telling the truth, and his approval got the Hunter to finally stop ogling the weapons and look at me instead. “But I can’t decide,” he whined.

  It took everything I had to not to roll my eyes at him, but I dug down deep and managed. If Gearblin were allowed to know our ability scores the same way the Heroes were, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d have discovered that Poise was our dump stat.

  We had Friskiness and Cunning in spades, but I only knew one member of my Race that was able to grin and bear the slings and arrows of our existence, and she was an idiot.

  I was never a deep and abiding pool of patience, which is probably why I was so surprised when the harmonic background thrum of a Skynyrd bassline bouncing off the walls calmed me down.

  A few of the customers at the bar behind me were already drunk enough to sing along, but even their lyrical crucifixion helped me find my Zen.

  “You hear that?” I asked as I pointed at a speaker, my voice far more tranquil now. “That’s what I am.”

  “You’re a box that music comes out of?”

  “No. A Simple Man. Now, his Momma wanted him to forget his lust for rich man’s gold, which makes her a cork-sniffing hag-seed. I mean what’s the point of any of this if it isn’t to end the day with more than we started it. Agreed?”

  “Sure.”

  I nodded conspiratorially. “Now, I know you’re just a Hunter, but-”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Crap. It was hard enough to guide these wet behind the ear murder hobos from point A to point B, but doing it without occasionally stepping on their sensitive feelings was practically impossible. “No offense meant…”

  “I’ll have you know that I am a Far Strider of the North Woods, wretch.”

  The fake smile plastered on my green-as-envy face didn’t falter, not even a little. We get a wide swathe of variations on the Core Archetypes here in Hallow, and they all prettied up what they were with shiny names and fancy terminology.

  “Of course you are,” I said, holding up my hands in a ‘don’t-shoot’ apology. “All I’m trying to say is that neither of these blades are going to be any use to you in the future. After all, your considerable skills lie in other areas, yes?”

  “Huh?”

  RNGesus, this one’s a disgrace to the rest of them, and that’s saying something… I wasn’t tall enough to lean all the way across the wide desk and tap the longbow slung over his shoulder, which was just as well. Rumor had it that something similar had gotten the last Gearblin that’d sat in my seat gutted, so I aimed my chin at it instead.

  After the air filled with the faint scent of burning rubber as his brain cranked up a couple of gears, he finally worked it out. “Oh! True enough. I suppose I am a ranged specialist.”

  I started to pump my fist in mock victory, though halfway through I caught myself and pretended my intention was and always had been to run my fingers through my thick mop of purple hair. It badly needed brushing, which was just the way I liked it. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. When you sell whichever reward you pick, and that’s when and not if, they’re both going to fetch you the same amount of silver.”

  He frowned, deep in thought.

  “Look buddy,” I said, glancing past him, “I know my name’s Raze, but can I be frank for a second?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You’re trying too hard. This quest is just supposed to get you wandering around Hallow. You’ve already seen the Fraternity’s abandoned temple, and after Illgott ‘N’ Games you’ll hit the pawn shop or the armory, depending on your alignment and allegiances. From there it’ll be off to help the Vigilance Committee enforce the curfew and look for unruly Dregs like me.”

  “And then?”

  “And then, depending on how you do with all of that, one of Commandant Sanguine’s lackeys will assign you a part in the upcoming Reenactment. It’ll be great. You’ll stare at the mountain for a while, shouting or banging your sword or shooting arrows at the door until she decides she’s made her point for the year and that’ll be that.”

  “Right…” He grimaced. “I get the uncomfortable feeling that a lot of the people, places and things you’re talking about are capitalized. Does that make sense?”

  I beamed up at him with as much reassurance as I could muster. “It does. Don’t worry, that’s only because you’re new. Stick with it, and you’ll find that sort of thing slows down considerably, once the majority of the worldbuilding gets out of the way.”

  His furrowed brow made me nervous. I clearly wasn’t getting all the way through to him, and the queue that now stretched out the door and around the corner was getting more restless by the second.

  What’s wrong with this almost-sentient sack of experience? Unless… I snapped my fingers as a new thought occurred to me. “I have an idea. Hold out your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is getting dire.”

  He was reluctant, but he extended his palm and I placed mine on top of his.

  Name: Gratlin Bivett

  Archetype: Hunter

  Class: Far Strider

  Origin: North Woods – Forest for the Trees

  Level: 1

  Intellect: 8

  Strength: 12

  Dexterity: 16

  Constitution: 13

  Charisma: 9

  Wisdom: 11

  Hit Points: 19

  How is he still only Level 1? All he had to do was complete two of the four basic arrival missions to get to Level 2, and by now he should have been… Hang on. “When you first stepped off the Platform, did you receive a quest named ‘All Hallow’s Eve’?”

  Relief washed across Gratlin’s bland features, and even the wolf yipped happily out in the street. “I did, but admit to accidentally erasing it! Do you know how I can get it back? I didn’t want to mention it to any of the other Heroes, but I’m grateful that a… a Dreg, is that the correct term?”

  “That’s our word…”

  He didn’t care. “I’m grateful that a Dreg broached the subject. Thank the Gods both above and below for the likes of one as useless as you, eh?”

  “Indeed. And while we’re at it, let’s not forget to acknowledge the foresight of the Powers That Be, who have seen fit to embrace a complete lack of equality in their laws, thus providing you lot with a dwindling supply of ‘lesser’ races to step on without mercy or fear of retribution.”

  Skynyrd had gone from singing about simple men to Free Bird, and in the gaps between the notes my voice carried farther than I’d expected. Illgott’s big, bald, ogre head swiveled in my direction as he bellowed, “Get on with it, Raze.”

&nbs
p; “I mean no disrespect,” I called back. “If their boots weren’t pressing us down, how else would we have the indescribable honor of lifting these jerks upon our backs?”

  “Stop being clever and start being useful, Gearblin.”

  The Hunter, oblivious as ever, didn’t miss a beat. “How do I get the ‘Hallow’s Eve’ quest again?”

  “Go back to the Platform,” I said. “As soon as you touch it, the quest’ll be offered.” I should have stopped there, but this fool had a tongue loose enough to spill secrets. News of the world beyond the Barricade was scarce, and what little there was had been made off-limits to Dregs a few decades ago.

  “Excellent!”

  “Tell me, you started your journey in the Moors, right?”

  He snorted. “Started? For near on twenty-seven summers I stalked the trees of Gullamere. It is only recently that I’ve ascended the lofty heights of the Brotherhood of Bark and earned permission from She of the Grove to make my way to Hallow.”

  “Tell me more about the Grove. How big is Her army?”

  “I’m not certain,” he said. “Though She did entrust me with the sacred task of inspecting the Towers that surround the Barricade. There was talk of their enchantments weakening.”

  This was more like it. “And what did you find?”

  “I… I don’t remember…”

  Crap. His mind had been wiped, same as the others. “What sorts of spells does She have, then?” I asked, before the stuff in his head faded out altogether.

  His eyes lit up with unnerving intensity. “She has a Geas!”

  Crap. “Don’t talk about that,” I said, trying to get him to shut up. I looked around for a savvy stage director to play him off, but Skynyrd was still the only music and we weren’t at the Academy Awards.

  But Gratlin was already on a roll. “In Her pervading wisdom She placed the Geas upon my mind. All thoughts of self were consumed when Her blessed will rose up around me, and my next memory is of the paltry ‘forest’ on the outskirts of this meager town. After that…”

  His voice trailed off when he finally took notice of me trying to cover his mouth with my hands. It was dangerous, but so was what he was doing.

  “Don’t touch me! I won’t pretend you’ve got the power to request my silence, particularly when the topic is the beloved Grovemaster’s Ge-”

  “Don’t say it again!” I said, cutting him off before he could utter the word ‘Geas’ again. “That’s dangerous magic you’re mucking with. Every single Hero in Hallow’s had their mind scrubbed by the same sort of spell.”

  “But why?”

  “Because ever since the Powers That Be decided outright oppression is the way of the future, they quit warring amongst each other. They need somewhere to send the noobs that should’ve been cannon fodder in their non-existent battles, so they ship you out to us via the Platform.”

  He was even more insulted than before, but that didn’t mean I was wrong. “But I’m here for the experience!”

  I snapped my fingers. “Exactly! The experience points. The leaders of everywhere that isn’t here cooked up the annual Reenactment as a way to pat themselves on the back and pad your stats at the same time. Once a year they get even freer propaganda than usual, and you lot get to level up faster by taking part in the sham. Almost everybody wins.”

  I could see that he wanted to look back over his shoulder at the line of Heroes again, but he showed the good sense not to. “But why don’t you want me to talk about the Ge-” He stopped himself without me having to remind him and tried again. “Why can’t I speak about the obligation She placed upon me?”

  “Because the spell your faction’s honcho cast on you isn’t very different from the one their leaders placed on them. It’s powerful stuff that nobody should mess with, and now that they have they’ll be in trouble if too many of you start to question why you’re they’re here. If things head in that direction, Sanguine and her Vigilance Committee may just, shall we say, hit the reset button and start over.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Pull the plug?”

  “Excuse me?”

  I caught movement out of the corner of the eye, and the next thing I knew Illgott’s bulk was right beside my desk, towering over both of us. “Those questions lead to corpses. You get me?”

  Gratlin nodded stiffly. “I do. Sorry…”

  “And corpses are bad for business. The magic that brought you here sits coiled like a viper in the brain of every Hero that rode the Platform to Hallow. Enough said. Right?”

  “Ri… Ri… Right.” Even though Illgott was a Dreg like me, he was still a big enough fixture in town that the Heroes didn’t like to cross him. Besides, the establishment was protected by the VC, and nobody was dumb enough to go against them.

  Satisfied, the ogre stepped away.

  I lowered my voice, since his arrival had drawn even more attention from the impatient queue. “I’m sure you’ve got a rich and fascinating backstory, full of fearless derring-do and noble sacrifice. Huzzah, and all that. But even your bosses can’t change the fact that Hallow was never meant to be anything more than a starter town. We’re supposed to be the beginning of the road, not the end of it. When they reversed the Platform and funneled troops here for the Smash all those years ago, they broke everything.”

  Whatever minuscule amount of concern I had for Gratlin’s wellbeing vanished when he said, “This is sounding very much like I’ll be getting maximum experience for minimum effort.”

  Now I did roll my eyes. “Spoken like a true and noble Hero. Let’s get back to the task at hand, though. Once you choose a quest reward, head out the door and take a left. The street will end in a couple of blocks, but you’ll find a path that will eventually take you back to the Platform.”

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I asked, grinning at him wide enough that he couldn’t help but see my back molars. “In fact, it’d take a complete and utter imbecile to screw it up, though I have complete and total faith that you’ll manage.”

  He paused, and I could see all 8 of his Intellect points struggling to decide if he was being made fun of or not. I steadied myself, fully expecting to lose a couple more hit points at best or, at worst, my life.

  I was fine with either option. This conversation had drained me of my will to live, and suddenly I was confident that a quick death whilst chained to a questgiver desk in the worst part of a beginner-zone-turned-Hero-stomping-ground was the best sort of end I could hope for.

  “Thank you,” he said at last.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Apparently I did still care about seeing the sun come up tomorrow, a fact which, given my limited prospects, was incredibly unfortunate. “Don’t mention it. Now grab a weapon at random and head off. The rest of my customers are going to murder you soon, and the Vigilance Committee will have both our heads if there’s another riot in here this week.”

  He took another long look at the dagger and then at the sword. “Okay.”

  The Hunter said the right thing, though he still didn’t pick one up. I let out a loud sigh that sounded like it may have come from the empty spot once occupied by my ambition, prior to me slitting its throats. “Even though your best option is to pawn them and you, as a Hunter, shouldn’t bother to equip either one, would you like me to Identify them for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course you do… This one’s a-” I said, laying my hand on the sword and letting the attributes, abilities, and distinguishing characteristics swim up my arm and roll like thunder from my mouth.

  So-So Short Sword

  Damage: 1d6-2, minimum of 1

  Damage Type: Slashing or Stabbing, depending on martial style used

  Additional Effects: None

  Weight: 1.7 pounds

  Durability: 8/10

  Description: The metal used in the construction is probably more valuable as scrap.

  Minimum Level Required to Equip: 1
/>   Base Resale Value: 88 silver

  Base Dismantle Result: 2 Iron Bars, 2 Leather Scraps

  Base Alchemical Result: 10 Iron Sigils

  Base Decantation Result: 2 Aggression Cores

  “And,” I said, “before you ask, the other option is...”

  Lesser Dagger of Moderate Value

  Damage: 1d4

  Damage Type: Slashing or Stabbing, depending on martial style used

  Additional Effects: None

  Weight: 11 ounces

  Durability: 7/10

  Description: When it was first forged this weapon might have been brag-worthy, but it isn’t anymore.

  Minimum Level Required to Equip: 1

  Base Resale Value: 88 silver

  Base Dismantle Result: 1 Iron Bar, 4 Leather Scraps, 1 Scratched Emerald (Low Quality)

  Base Alchemical Result: 5 Iron Sigils

  Base Decantation Result: 1 Aggression Core, 1 Mark of Value

  The Hunter was looking at me suspiciously. “And I’m just supposed to believe you, is that it?”

  I shrugged. “Listen bub, there’s a reason I’m on this side of the desk and you’re over there. Every Gearblin gets a few Knacks, which means we’re good at a couple of random things. One of mine lets me Identify stuff. And before you ask, I can’t lie when my voice goes like that. I wish I could, since I’d make a fortune.”

  “So they’re worth the same amount of silver?”

  “Yep. Now pick one, sell it at the ‘Beg, Borrow, and Steel’ across the way and return to the Platform for the quest you should’ve already completed.”

  Without another word he grabbed the short sword and left Illgott ‘N’ Games. His faithful wolf padded to his side, turning to growl at me before trotting off.

  I watched as a couple of Heroes waiting to speak to me stepped out of line and followed him, one of them drawing a blackjack and making the street cant sign for ‘shakedown’ at his partner. They forced their way out the door, giving anyone in their way rough shoulders and dark looks as they left.