Chapter 6
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I left the castellan's room, turned to face the wall, took off my helmet, and, after calling up the menu, left the game. Then I grabbed all my "paladin gear" and, dropping sweaty things on the way, headed for the shower.
Only an hour in the game, only three training fights, and the jersey could be squeezed.
A cup of coffee and a hot shower slowly brought me back to life.
Stay awake, Vova, there's still work to be done today!
Helmet on the head, gloves on hand...
"Comp, the start of the Creators of Destiny!"
There was a wall in front of my eyes. I turned to it before I left. The character whose "driver" left the game froze for half a minute and then melted into thin air. For those thirty seconds, he was completely defenseless, so it was recommended to leave only in safe places.
Well, the shield and sword are there, the temple aura was given to me, and the initial quests of the class are done.
It's time to go out into the big world!
I took a step under the gate and stepped outside.
"Looking for a party to the fields!"
"Sharpening, inexpensive!"
"I'm pumping cooking on your meat! From you only your meat! I roast it myself, I give it all back to you!"
"Sword plus one to combat abilities! Prices start at three gold pieces!"
"Sharpening, inexpensive!"
"Sharpening, expensive but good!"
The screams were not deafening, but merged into one pounding rumble, causing me to press my head into my shoulders.
So, this seems to be a general trade channel that changed with the change of game location. Step back.
Silence. It's so good!
Calling up the menu, I restricted the merchant chat to line-of-sight. Listening to the shrieks of traders from across town? No way.
I stepped forward cautiously and looked around.
On one side of the street stretched the wall of the temple complex, while the other was built up with fairly ordinary houses. No fortresses, no ruins - an ordinary European-type city, with corrections for the Middle Ages.
But creatures were walking down the street. I couldn't call them "townspeople," because they were all so different, though mostly anthropomorphic. I couldn't help but stare at the swaying hips of some beautiful woman in a garment that reminded me of the vaguely familiar words "peplos" and "stola" - the wide fabric that enveloped her body was either stretched, outlining her curves, or twisted freely, forcing my imagination to work.
What a graphic! And this is a simple townswoman's outfit!
"Hey, buddy, don't stand in the aisle!" A voice distracted me from contemplating the interesting outfit.
It turned out that, as I stood in the doorway, I was blocking the passage of a warrior in ringed armor who was clearly in a hurry to get the blessing of the temple.
"I beg your pardon, esteemed one. First time out on the town." I moved aside to let him pass.
"Rookie of the temple guard." Unlike the name, the title, or rather the designation of the chosen path, was visible if the player did not wear a cloak. "Are you a melee player? Decided to pump a tank or will you be a physic-damager?"
I shook my head: "No. I am a paladin of Amala."
"Yo, let me guess - this is your first character?"
I nodded. The reaction was expected.
"Friend, my advice from the bottom of my heart - give it up! Experience ratings greater than the paladins, only the knights of death! Dumb thing to do, start a multi-warrior, then you'll buy yourself a healing ability!"
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"No, thank you. I've thought it over, I'm going to be a paladin."
The guy faked a long sigh. Judging by his demeanor, he played from the keyboard but used a microphone.
"What kind of craft did you get? If it's the drawing then..."
"That's it. Good craft, judging by the description."
The guy sighed again: "No offense to you, but paladin-drawer is a game meme."
"What's the big deal? I looked at the auction: there are a lot of scrolls, all expensive. I could trade them for armor." I tried to act like an incomprehensible but stubborn newbie.
"Well, look." The guy walked away from the gate of the temple and sat down on the low porch of the house opposite. "Wait a minute, I just got out of the fight. Came back with a binding amulet. I barely had time to activate it. Such a fight was! Miscalculated a little with the level of mobs, ran into a patrol."
I raised my hand silently and cast the Healing Touch. I was only allowed to do it once, because my legend, "paladin newcomer only from school," did not allow me to do it again, though I had mana for almost two dozen after I spent the rings. My interlocutor's health level went up a bit. He seemed to be much higher than I was: the twenty hits added by the "touch" were barely visible.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. I'll pump my healing on you, too." I winked.
"Yeah, but don't forget that they pump ten times slower in peace zones."
I had to shrug.
"At least it's an improvement. So what's about the drawing?"
"Yeah, look - the drawing lets you write any known spell. But only the first rank is captured first. So you can't just get a scroll with a high-ranking spell. Vous comprenez?"
"Je comprends bien, yet."
"Well done! Next, one scroll takes one minute to draft. In the combat zone, any craft used attracts the attention of mobs, so that you will be cut to pieces before you start. In the peace zone, the skill is pumped ten times slower. It takes ten successful uses to pump one percent of the first rank, a common parameter for all crafts. But then comes a total ass, because even in the most popular craft, blacksmithing, the second rank requires at least fifty successful applications per percentage, and successful to failures go as one to three, at best. Now count: the first rank requires at least a couple thousand scrolls, the second is closer to fifteen, and the third, which will finally allow you to record spells at a higher rank, is forty to fifty thousand. And now multiply by ten, because you just can't draw properly outside the city, so you have to sit here."
I listened carefully. All of this had already been read from guides comparing crafts, but sometimes it's helpful to get a generally accepted opinion from players.
"So all you have to do for the third rank, taking into account the failure rate, is about two hundred thousand attempts. Not bad, huh? One minute per scroll... uh... Comp, calculator!"
The disease of the century is the inability to count in the mind...
"Yes, almost five months without stopping. You can put a bot program if you're not afraid of verification, but such programs calculate very quickly, so you have to do everything by hand. Well, plus a little nuance - the sheet and the ink for one attempt to cost money: fail an attempt - gone. Upgrading the first rank will cost four thousand silver coins only for consumables. The second - twenty thousand. Man, I'd spend that kind of money smarter! Or are you going to take the gold at auction?"
I pretended to sigh: "You say so, that this craft seems unnecessary at all. What's it for, then? I thought I would sit for half an hour, and then in the battle to heal with scrolls or hit with magic."
The interlocutor shrugged: "Drawing is a guild profession. They take a character, save rings for him for a year and buy for them the third rank of drawing and one spell of the second or third rank. Then these chars pumped in a specially assembled group to the hundredth level, and a couple of heavy-armed guilders look out on the sidelines so that the PK did not interfere. Then this drawer dressed up in clothing with int and a chance to successfully use the profession. In the real world sits a man with a tablet, one of the officers of the guild. He is given the best ingredients that increase the percent of the skill: such as paper, extracted from raid dungeons, and ink, brewed by a guild alchemist. So he spends hours every day writing one of his highest-ranked spells, and it turns out to be about rank four or five. So the guild gets, say, a hundred and fifty scrolls a day. Scrolls spent faster than written so that the whole game with this character comes down to drawing, well, occasionally will try to capture a new spell from a monster - again, under protection. This is quiet for those who have crazy about the game, for half the time and money you can pump two characters one-hundredth of a level, which will do the same thing as the scrolls!"
Yeah, I was thinking about selling my "cheater" char to some hardcore guild. A perfect billet for a guild crafter. I don't even know why I turned it down. I just didn't feel like it.
"So, man, you shouldn't do that. A paladin, and even with a drawing? If you're less than level five, then erase the char and start a new one. My advice from the bottom of my heart!"
I shook my head: "I'll take my chances. I just want to play this char."
That's probably why I gave up the idea of selling it right away. I want adventure.
My interlocutor suddenly grinned widely: "Stubborn! A real paladin! Open your inventory." The exchange sign blinked in front of me. I clicked on "I agree." "Here you go. I'm just from the Negrin Catacombs, the paper sometimes falls there, from the mummies. Consider it a gift for the stubborn noob!"
The exchange menu is lit up:
A player offers you an item - a sheet of old paper (31). Accept?
Yes.
"Here, make good use of it. It seems to give you a plus two to the chance of using it. By the way, my name is Warran, warrior archetype level forty-seven. You're welcome if you need anything. So long, paladin."
The player put you on his friends list, now you can see his name
I looked at the back of the departing Warran. It felt good, damn it! He told me a lot of useful things and gaveme the right item, not even believing that I could get something out of it. By the way, the same paper from the NPC-trader for three silver. It turns out he gave about a third of what he earned during a day of play to a stranger to do what he thinks is stupid. So there are people like that around here, too. Good to know.
"Warran, hey?" He looked around. "So where can I buy ink?"
"Idiot, look around." He laughed and moved on.
It turned out that the whole time we were sitting just in front of the "Goods for Beginning Craftsmen" shop.
Hmm... Right, idiot.
Let's go in.
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