Chapter 93: Never Ahead

The difference between a player with three marks and a player with four is a mighty one, and one which many will never see. The number of players who make it to the fourth mark is less than 10%, however distinction in their craft is but the most obvious of differences. The other, and one which I find is rarely discussed at any of the training islands/mountains/what have you is WHY the fourth mark is so important.

Up until the fourth mark, a player is on a set path. A Fisherman cannot decide after his first contract this over to switch to Warrior, or vise versa (the only expecting to this are the Mage I and II classes but that topic is for another day). Once the Fisherman class has been completed, the player may then choose either the Sailer or Merchant class for their second contract or “mark.” Just like the second, they are still unable to change to another class tree for their third, and have, actually even fewer options than before. Whereas a player about to sign for their second contract has two options, the third contract only gives them a single option (unless they have distinguished themselves and are given the chance to choose a special class). For the sake of your curiosity, I will go ahead and ‘lay out’ what that would be for fisherman.

Contract 1: Fisherman

Contract 2: Merchant or Sailor

Contact 3: Merchant becomes Merchant II, and Sailor becomes…Bard (the reasoning behind this has never been clear, despite my constant pestering of my Advisor)

Contract 3 Special Class: Pirate. This is a very rare class termed Special, and is only given to those who distinguished themselves in either Merchant or Sailor. Such classes have increased buffs and better abilities, as you would expect.

Now, as I expect you would like to know, what are the other Special classes for the other starting jobs? I shall briefly write them down for your perusing:

Fighter-Paladin

Tinkerer-Enchanter

Hunter-Druid

Thief-Assassin

Herbalist-Potion Master II (strictly offensive)

Mages I and II-Summoner (elemental type depends on your original class)

These wonderful classes are the dreams of most any player who first learns of them, but they are not the point of this article. Once again, what is the major difference between a three contract and a four contract player? Simple: the player of the fourth contract is allowed to pick and choose the other class trees. They are no longer bound to a single branch and may hop about as a monkey would with abandon. This means that a player who has just completed Sellsword (one of the the third contracts for the Fighter class) may now explore the magic classes, or the Herbalist, or anything they may like. Truly, this is where the Path of the OP begins. Think you were powerful as a Knight? Imagine the possibilities once you sign up as a Mage I and become an honest to AION Spellsword (that’s not a real class, yet, just a nickname given to those romantics who wish to slash their opponents with a blade whilst either healing themselves or casting fireballs).

-Esem Survival Guide, Nosterly Quarter, 5th edition

“Digging a hole, eh?” Said Ethan. He sounded weary. “Not a bad idea. How far did you get?”

“A couple feet,” said Chase, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nice,” said Ethan a small smile coming to his lips. The flame suddenly grew in his palm and Chase could feel the heat on his face. “No one can say your guild wasn’t a clever one.”

“Thanks,” said Thomas, partly shielding his face from the heat of the flame. “But the brains of the operation is me. The old guy here is for comic relief. The rest are just side characters.”

Ethan chuckled.

“Funny. Thomas, was it?”

Thomas gulped and nodded his head, his moment of bravery gone. Ethen raised the hand with the flame.

“Fire or blood?”

“Enough!” Said Chase. He dropped the stone he had been holding on the ground. “Let’s go, Banes. No one is getting incinerated today.”

“Wise decision,” said Ethan, a look of relief crossing his face. “I’m going to stand to the side in this hallway. And I am going to count as all seven of you walk past me and go down the hall and up the stairs. If I do not count seven, I will be very cross.”

The energy the guild had had just a moment before was gone, but Chase would not allow his friends to see that he was terrified. He stood up straight, slowly brushed his hands on his pants, and led the way out the door. He had known the entire time that this would be the outcome, but for some reason he felt the pain of defeat far more sharply than ever before. The fact that they had tried, and even, however slightly, believed that today they could not die, made this all the more painful.

Chase was the first to emerge into the courtyard, and the scene was something out of a fever dream. The bodies of goblins littered the courtyard. Some were burned, others slashed in two. A group near one side of the courtyard appeared to have been burned to death and had clung to one another as they died, now a small clump of ashy bodies like a monument to death and pain. Markon sat on the body of the Goblin King, breathing heavily and looking like he had just run a marathon through a storm.

“I was wondering where you had gone to,” said Markon. He spit to the side of the Goblin Kings body. “Welcome back, and good job on killing Astor.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Chase, then immediately regretted saying it. Would Markon want revenge for his fallen comrade?

“Interesting,” said Markon as he watched the Banes assemble. He motioned for them to take the places they had been in before the goblin attack. “I didn’t think we were going to lose two Followers today. Leek got his head ripped off outside and Astor took a bolt to the heart. Was it you?” He added, nodding at Brent.

Brent stood up straight and stared down Markon, not saying a word.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Markon with a sigh. “He was a cold blooded bastard and would have killed me in his sleep if he thought it would get him in Xemnara’s good books.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Ethan finally came up from the stairs, flame still in hand.

“They were trying to dig an escape out of here.”

Markon laughed.

“Really! What a plan! I almost wished it worked a hunt though the forest would have been just the thing after this fight.”

“We could always let them go and do that,” said Ethan.

“Nah, to be honest I’m pretty tired now. That Goblin King was peaking. These NPCs are all acting funny now that the Lady is in Esem.”

“Peaking?” Said Alex. “What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter to you,” said Markon. He hopped off the Goblin King. His sword had been plunged in the soft ground by his enemy and he drew it and leaned it over his shoulder. “You’re story ends today. Right here, right now.”

“Moonshine!” Cried Amelie. Suddenly she broke from the line and ran across the courtyard. She had to step and leap over the bodies of the goblins. At the far end of the courtyard was the broken wagon they had bought in Moontown, and before the wagon was the large body of Moonshine on her side.

“Oh no,” said Claire, covering her mouth.

Amelie flung her arms around the neck of Moonshine, who did not move. Even from the distance Chase could tell that the horse had suffered at the hands of the goblins. Deep wounds and dried blood covered the animals body.

“You even killed our horse,” said Chase flatly. Markon did not respond, only his lip curled with scorn. Ethan however turned towards Chase, a look of pain on his face.

“A casualty of battle, I’m afraid,” said Ethan. “After you are executed the horse would have likely died in the forest anyway. In a way this is a mercy.”

“None of this is a mercy,” said Marlon, his voice lacking any of its usual humor.

Ethan did not respond, only glancing at Markon.

“Go get her,” said Markon to Ethan.

Without a word the older man did as he was commanded. Chase watched him slowly walk over to the crying Amelie. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered some words to her. Amelie suddenly looked up at him, wiped her eyes, and nodded. Soon she was walking back with him, even allowing Ethan to guide her over the bodies of the slain goblins. When she returned her eyes were red but there were no more tears.

“Now then,” said Markon. “We are finally back where we began.”

“No change of heart, then?” Said Brent. He sounded light hearted but Chase could hear the finality in his voice.

“Nope,” said Markon. He stared at the Banes for a few moments, looking at each of their faces in turn. “So who killed Astor?”

The Banes stood still, not saying a word. Though Chase was staring straight ahead, he could almost feel the his guild tense, as though collectively they were holding their breaths.

“I don’t really care,” said Markon, examining the nails on his free hand. “But it would be good to know. Someone had to pull out the stops to get that red haired freak free from jail.”

Markon gave them one last look, lazily looking up from his hand. Finally he dropped his arm and pointed at Brent.

“Was it you?”

“I’ll never tell,” said Brent. “In fact why don’t you-.”

A laser beam shot out of Markon’s finger. Amelie screamed, and the sound of a small explosion sounded behind the Banes. Chase ducked, and saw just in time that the beam has gone right past Brent’s ear. Though the rest of the guild, like Chase, had ducked, Brent was standing up straight, totally unfazed by the near blast to his head.

“Brave one,” muttered Markon. He spit to the side and shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who killed him,” said Ethan at last.

“True, but now we’ve lost three followers,” said Markon with frustration. “There were five of us in the beginning. Bisper, Leek, Astor, you, and me.”

“Don’t forget Argo,” said Brent savagely. “Chase broke his neck in Birchtown.”

Markon’s face darkened.

“I haven’t forgotten Argo,” he hissed. “He may have been an NPC but he was a Follower all the same. Ethan, how is it that this guild, with no more than a single contract each, have been killing our people?”

“Well, they didn’t kill but Astor and Argo,” said Ethan, shrugging his shoulders.

“Still, I think this guild is unlucky for us. Xemnara knows something about them them we don’t. Why else would she be sending us at the cost of our lives to kill them?”

“We can ask,” said Ethan. “Well, Banes? Why is it that Lady Xemnara wants you so bad?”

“You already know the answer to that,” said Chase, glancing at the pyromancer. “She is a sore loser, and a cheat, and she cannot abide by her own rules.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense,” mused Markon, rubbing his chin with his hand. “Did one of you do something, before the inn that pissed her off?”

Chase felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck. Would the truth of his old identity change anything in this moment? Surely it would not stave off their imminent execution. Xemnara knew that he was Spade, but for whatever reason was keeping it to herself. Perhaps she didn’t care in the end, and only wanted vengeance for her defeat. Still, this felt enormously unnecessary.

Emissary, thought Chase. I know this is a stretch, but if you are out there, please help us.

“Something on your mind, Chase?” Said Markon.

“He looks like he is praying,” said Ethan, eyeing Chase.

“Praying?” Said Markon, sounding confused. “To who? AION?”

“To the Dream Emissary,” said Chase simply. “She helped us out last time, back at the Inn of the Crone.”

“Inn of the crow,” corrected Markon, grating his teeth. But despite himself he looked worried, and looked around the courtyard. “Well? Is she coming? I’ve always wanted to speak with her again. Tell her my name was the worst decision I ever made because of her.”

The courtyard was silent as all gathered waited. Only the sound of the wind whipping about the place answered them.

“And that is that,” said Markon. “Okay, shall we continue? I think it was the ugly looking girl, first, is that right?”

Both Alex and Brent seethed and spent a solid minute cursing at Markon, to which the large man laughed.

“You two are ridiculous,” he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “But okay, I apologize. Tell you what, let’s have your leader go first. I’m tired of his face, and him praying like it would make a difference.”

“Chase,” said Amelie, soft and sad.

Chase gave her a small smile. He looked for the last time at this guild mates’ faces. They were a mixture of fear and determination. Their time digging the hole, short as it was, had brought them closer to together. Before he stepped forward to his fate he patted Thomas on the head one last time, shook the hands of Alex and Brent, and gave the girls a hug.

“Chase, isn’t there something we can do?” Said Claire. Her eyes were slightly wet.

“Not today it seems,” said Chase. “I guess I’ll see you guys on the other side.”

“There isn’t another side,” said Markon savagely. “Now get over here. I’m tired of all the talking.”

“I’ve been saying that for months!” Said Marlon.

Despite himself Chase laughed. One final joke from his old friend.

“Kneel, Chase,” said Markon.

Chase took a step forward before the large man, and got on his knees. How many times had he seen players at the receiving end of this kind of execution. How many had he ordered? Done himself? Perhaps in the end the Guide, back on training island, had been right. He had been unable to escape the violence of his past life. Had he attracted this to his own guild? He should have just been a Fisherman. At least then he could have spared his friends.

“Any last words?” Said Ethan. He sounded weary beyond belief, and slightly hesitant now that the end was finally upon the guild.

“We already got ‘em,” said Markon. He stepped to the side, and clutched his great sword in two hands. He raised the blade high. “Time to die, Chase!”

Chase closed his eyes. Time seemed to slow. He saw his life pass before his minds eye. His first spawn, meeting Solomon and Karkren. Forming the Old Guard. Training, meeting the other members. Fighting and struggling for recognition. Gaining acclaim. Falling in love. The heights of fame and the lows of the dirtiest lie he could possibly imagine. His shame, and a decision not entirely his own. The command of a man he had once called his master. He saw himself respawning, meeting Alex and Amelie. Their faces as he took an interest in them, meeting mischievous Thomas, and the serious Brent and Claire. Marlon’s creature that he was studying attacking him in their shared room. Forming the guild, telling them his secret. All their adventures from Moontown to the highwaymen, from Lazerpail to the Inn of the Crow to Birchtown and finally back to this little courtyard in an unnamed forest in Avalon. He had failed his mission, and as he heard Markon’s sword begin its deadly fall, he knew that he had failed utterly. The real reason for his respawn would be lost, not that he even knew what that really was, only trust had guided him, and now was to be his undoing.

THUNK!

The sound of a dull axe blade striking a stump sounded. Chase opened his eyes. He was alive, and his head was still attached to his shoulders. He slowly reached up to touch his neck, and it was true. He blinked again.

“You again?” Came a familiar voice.

Chase looked up. Before him, holding Markon’s blade only a few inches from his face, was a potion monster, wreathed in smoke and with a pair of burning red eyes staring daggers at Markon.