As I stormed out of the cabin, I nearly ran into a Vinlander. I was too annoyed to pay attention to which one it was.
“Watch it! Wouldn’t want you to trip and have an accident.” He said to me menacingly.
“Last time I had an accident was in your mom.” I snapped and kept walking.
I entered the stable and visited Finley while I calmed down. Pest appeared and we planned for the day. Without any funds it made our options limited. I did have one thing high on my priority list, search for Oskar.
As this place was like a game in some ways, in other ways it was quite a bit not. The quest list was basic and lacked details. I hoped that was just an alpha state prototype and not Loki’s final product.
I had played games since before waypoints were a common feature. My favorite being a post-apocalypse RPG with the best slapstick comedy. It was great. Modern games consisted of follow the glowing dots. I had gotten lazy and used to having that. I didn’t have any handy waypoint markers here to hold my hand or a special sixth sense to make footsteps and clues glow.
I glanced at Pest who was quietly inspecting the nooks and crannied of the stable. Well, maybe I had a sort of sixth sense, but not one that would make this task any easier. I decided that the best I could do was retrace my steps where I had last seen Oskar and ask around. That thought led me towards the earl’s longhouse.
Pest scented along the ground as we went, but he couldn’t pick up anything viable amongst the well-travelled roads. It took some asking around but eventually I found the guard who had met me on the street when I was fleeing the Vinlanders. He told me that after we met, Oskar should have headed back to Haroldstadir. He didn’t have any further information.
I was at a little bit of a loss as we walked back towards the Chosen fort. As we went, I noticed that the buildings we passed had the occasional missing poster pinned up.
Donnie may be able to track him down. That was what he filled his afterlife doing.
I went to the tavern and asked around for him, but he hadn’t been around for the last few days. I begged paper and charcoal from Karen, who only relented when I explained about the missing boy. I guess she did have a heart under that leathery exterior.
I added my missing poster and a note to Donnie to the ‘quest’ board. Hopefully he would see it, but the missing posters were overloading the board at this point, so my faith was slipping.
Besides asking around and trying to reach out to Donnie, I was at a loss as to what to do. When had I ever had to search for a missing person? This was definitely out of my skill set, and without a System skill or obvious trail to help, I had nothing.
I found the rest of the guild, sans Mave, at our reserved table and joined them for dinner. It was a quiet dinner if you ignored Carmilla and Dark jabbering about team vampire vs team werewolf. My mind was wandering far enough that I didn’t even notice Pest stealing the meat off my plate.
On the way back to the cabin I caught sight of a couple of Vinlanders heading for the gate. They were wearing piecemeal armor and basic weapons.
“Looks like they finally decided to do something.” Halloway muttered.
“Probably nothing good.” I replied.
The next morning, the sales from the market were divided. My share was three silver coins. I was hoping for more, but I got what I got.
“Pest, it’s another day of picking up schematics and crafting skills, do you want to hang out with me again?”
“No,” he said simply and marched out of the cabin.
“Okay, I’m man enough to admit that hurt a little.” I said to the room.
“Do less boring stuff.” Halloway said.
“Thank you for your helpful input.” I replied and followed Pest out.
Starting off my mission of crafting and learning I decided to go to the market. I found a vendor selling clay vials and bought a dozen for one of my precious silvers. The price seemed high to me, but I wasn’t a great haggler, and the stall owners were experts at fleecing Chosen, so I accepted it.
I swung by the armor vendors but didn’t find anything affordable that was worthwhile.
My last stop in the market was at the weapons stall. I would like to find something good, but I wasn’t some medieval fanatic and would probably hurt myself with anything too exotic. The prices themselves disabused any dreams of a real weapon, much less an exotic one. The prices for Implements were too terrifying to even mention. I had to peruse a section that was more tools than weapons.
A handful of small knives, most with the FRAGILE flag. A rusty hammer with a thin head on one end and a pick on the other. A thin staff, that was more a walking stick than an actual staff. A small pencil-like metal rod that over eager survivalists call a tactical pen. The last item of the bunch was the oddest, it was a stick and a skull fashioned into a crude bludgeon.
Nothing amongst the batch looked worthwhile, so I picked up a replacement knife and called it good.
I made my way back to the Chosen fort and the little hidden alley between the cabins. Tinkering with the rune-code I added all the beneficial flags from my list to the knife.
Name: Knife
Material: Iron
Durability: Worn
Value: Below Average
FLAGS: CORROSION_RESISTANT, DURABLE, INERT, MENDING
The MENDING didn’t raise its durability, confirming my earlier guess that it would only repair the item to the level it was when it received the MENDING flag. I’d have to see if my hacked knife would explode or not with the INERT flag.
Moving on to the vials I had purchased, I filled them with water from one of my waterskins, which reminded me that I needed to refill my bottomless flask.
I added every medicinal flag I had to the contents of the vials. Nothing exploded this time, but the liquid within did take on a turbid quality. It now had small bits floating in it and a dark color resembling loose-leaf black tea.
Name: Bottle
Material: Clay
Durability: Average
Value: Below Average
FLAGS: FRAGILE
Contents: Water
Contents Flags: ANTI-VEISALGIA, ANTIHYPERTENSIVE, ANTIOXIDANT, HEPATOSTASIS, NOURISHMENT, RESTORATIVE, RELAXANT
Contents Efficacy: Average
I considered adding the NARCOTIC flag to the mix but decided against it. If someone was using this during a battle, best not be high as shit while it went down. The same though applied to ANESTHETIC as well, that one packed an off label punch.
I took my collection of little potions back to the market. Showing one of them to the snake oil salesman I had met before elicited no recognition of the vials new value. NPC’s must base their opinions of items heavily from the value indicator of the items, without actually realizing its true worth.
I tried a few other market stalls and got the same non-interest from the stall owners.
I supposed that there was only one way to sell the item. One I wasn’t too keen on, but it had been a staple in MMO’s since their creation.
I stood in the small square in front of the Loki statue and shouted.
“Selling health tonic! One silver per!”
A few people looked my way at my sudden outburst but showed little other interest. I kept shouting out every few minutes until I finally drew someone out.
“So, what does a health tonic do?” The man asked. I assumed he was a Chosen as he was wearing a pair of jeans. Jean Guy was then regaled with my sales pitch.
“It’s a simple potion that calms the mind, reinforces the organs, and heals the body. Not as powerful as a potion, but better than the poison that guy sells.” I pointed in the general direction of the snake oil salesman.
“And how do I know it is legitimate?” Jean Guy asked.
“Well, I’d say give it a try, but you appear hearty and healthy,” I said. “Any injured folks out here that would enjoy a free sample?”
A small gaggle of people started to gather after Jean Guy made his approach. They all glanced at each other, but no takers were present. I guess there is only one way to test it. I took out my new knife.
I put the tip against my forearm and girded my strength. I had always seen badasses in books and shows able to self-mutilate without a care in the world. I was not one of those sorts. It took a minute to push past my natural repulsion at injuring myself with a small slash down my forearm.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Oww,” I hissed and put my knife away. Blood welled up and began dripping down my arm at a steady rate. I was a little alarmed, I didn’t think I had cut myself that bad. In what seemed like no time my lower arm and hand were saturated with blood and making a decent pool on the ground.
“Okay, here we go.” I said quietly, feeling a little dizzy as I stared at the injury. Pain didn’t bother me. Blood and gore didn’t bother me. But this for some reason was triggering a physiological reaction that made me feel faint. I quickly unstoppered one of my vials and drank it down.
It didn’t taste very good. Whatever automated process made the System change things to fit their flags had definitely changed the water. It was reminiscent of bad green tea for taste. The snobby kind that was aged for years and never properly processed. Fermented and rotten all in the same drink. Worse than kombucha. Well, maybe not that horrid.
I didn’t do a very good job at hiding my yuck reaction after downing it. Maybe I could add something sweet to the concoction to help the taste.
“It may not taste great,” I announced to my little crowd of Chosen, “but it is already making me feel better.”
“Looks like you are still bleeding,” Jean Guy pointed out.
“True, I am still bleeding, but I can no longer feel the pain of the wound. This isn’t a Healing Potion, it’s a health tonic. The pain is gone,” I demonstrated by jabbing at my wound with a finger and showing no discernable reaction. “And I no longer feel like I am going to go faint after mutilating myself, due to the anti-anxiety properties.”
“What use is that?” Jean Guy crossed his arms with a frown.
“Have you not been in a fight and seen someone lock up after taking an injury? That sort of thing could lead to a party wipe in the wrong circumstance.” I was starting to get a little tired of Jean Guy. I didn’t have a huge Charisma like Halloway. I struggled explaining things to people in a way to convince them of the benefits of something.
“Sounds like BS to me.” Jean Guy said.
“Did I mention it also gets rid of hangovers?” I said, remembering another benefit. “I guarantee it, and anyone that it doesn’t work on will get a full refund. I can be found at the fort. I am a member of the Red Wolves.”
That got some of them talking to each other with a little more interest.
I patted down my pockets looking for something to clean the blood off my arm. Not finding anything I sighed and wiped the blood on my pants. Under the blood my wound was already thickly scabbed over.
“And look at this, it does have some restorative properties. Again, not as fast as a Healing Potion, but definitely faster than natural healing. Supplies limited.” I said loudly. This was the last selling point I had for my little miracle potion, and seemed to be the last nudge for the cynical Jean Guy.
“I’ll take three.” He said pulling out three silver coins from his pants pocket. The rest of the group rushed in like a tide, shouting to be heard.
“Give me one!”
“I’ll take four!”
“Hey, quiet down! One per person!” I shouted, deciding that I needed to spread out the potions to as many people as possible. The more people that used it, the more word-of-mouth my little potions would get.
I sold out of the potions then and there.
[Congratulations! Barter has increased to Level 2!]
“Sorry folks, that’s everything I have, I’ll be back as soon as I have more!” I called and fled from the crowd. I now had eleven more silver coins in my pocket. My first stop was at the stall that sold the empty vials. I bought a jar of honey and the rest of their stock of vials which ended up being two dozen.
I swung by the armor and weapons stall again, seeing if my new wealth and barter level could get me anything. The armor was a bust, still far out of my price range for something more protective than a T-shirt. The anachronistic clothing seemed to sell at a premium. The real weapons were still a pipe dream, priced in gold coins. The tools and mundane items had a few more options for me.
A rake, the shitty kind with a flimsy metal fan shape on the end. A basic shovel, the handle broken at the halfway point. A scissor like hedge trimmer that was rusted solid halfway open. The last item I could afford made me cackle in delight. A rusty cast iron pan, eighteen inches.
It took seven silver coins to make it mine, but it was the best of options, video games of yesteryear taught me this pan could double as a weapon and a shield. Not to mention it was one of my favorite things to cook with. I could clean off the rust and fix it up. Trail rations would be getting a notch better.
My last two coins went to acquiring some scrap leather.
With new loot in hand, I returned to the cabin. Halloway was inside so I showed him my new prize. He was less than impressed.
“What?” I asked. “What is wrong with it? This pan is glorious! Weapon and cooking utensil all in one.”
“You are an idiot.” He told me.
“You lack imagination!”
I rooted around in Dark’s stuff until I found his sewing kit. Plopping on my bunk I began rigging a harness for it. I managed to get it to hang low on my back with the handle poking out to the side. It was low enough to dangle under my rucksack. After a few more leather adjustments I was able to pull it out from the rig, putting it back took some effort, but I was okay with that.
[Congratulations! Leathercraft has increased to Level 2!]
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the schematic for Unconventional Baldric!]
“Even the System thinks it awesome! I just earned a schematic and leveled up leatherworking after using it a few times!” I spouted at Halloway as I got the notification.
“The System doesn’t think! And how did you level that so fast?” He asked me.
“What makes you think it doesn’t think, it’s an Artificial Intellegence isn’t it?” I asked back.
“Why would it be an AI? This place is all divine magic bullshit.”
“Because it changes stuff and runs the NPC’s. There cannot be anything other than an intelligence running it. Even if it is something divine.” I responded, putting some derision on the end.
“I suppose that makes sense.” Halloway told me.
“I do wonder what Loki used to make it. A supercomputer or maybe a super brain like in…” I trailed off trying to remember. “What is it called… Scifi book, old, had a brain that kept growing bigger in a satellite and it was used to process a huge VR world…”
“Dunno, I’m not much of a reader.” Halloway informed me.
“What?!” I gasped. “Sacrilege! There are so many good books out there.”
“I’m dyslexic.” Halloway said.
“Oh. Shit, does that make prompts hard to read?”
“Sometimes, as long as it isn’t a big word, I’m usually fine.”
“Hmmm.” I had an idea of how to remedy that.
Report.
[Would you like to report an issue?]
[Misuse of this feature could result in administrative actions.]
Dyslexic and illiterate people can’t read the prompts!
After I submitted the report, I noticed Halloway giving me a strange look.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you often break off in the middle of a conversation a talk to yourself?”
“No!” I said. I must have been mouthing the words as I filled in the report. “I was just making a mental note to write you a letter called the Controversial Cinnamon Communication!”
“I hate you,” he said as he narrowed his eyes at me. “And that pan is only gonna protect your ass.”
“Why would it only protect you?”
I took my pan over to the Chosen tavern. With some begging and a offer to do some dishes, I was able to take my pan into the kitchen.
It would have been much easier to clean with modern cleaners. But we didn’t have those. I had to make do with scraping it with my knife and using bar soap that was so caustic it burnt my hands.
The kitchen crew gave me a scornful look, saying I was ruining the knife using it like that, but the MENDING flag kept it at its default relatively sharp state without too much waiting in between.
Switching between cleaning, scraping and heating the pan I did some dishes. It took an hour or two, but I managed to get the pan to a serviceable condition. I got a few notification pings while I was at it.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the Cleaning skill!]
Cleaning? Just what I needed. I could use it to tidy up a dungeon after the slaughter. With a roll of my eyes, I checked up on it.
[Cleaning]
Unlock Conditions – Purposefully use tools and soap to clean something.
[lvl 1] – You can clean up after yourself! HOUSEWORK CAN'T KILL YOU, BUT WHY TAKE A CHANCE!
About what I would expect. Some of these skills were just flat out plain and boring.
I decided to pile it up on my current backlog of reports for Loki. I knew it wasn’t a bug, but he didn’t bite my head off for it yet so I let a report fly. After the normal report message and threat of misuse I sent off, ‘The skills are boring! The names are generic, and the descriptions are lame. Even the references and quotes are super lame like you googled ‘Cleaning Quotes’ or something!’.
I checked my last notification.
[Congratulations! Repair has increased to Level 2!]
Though it was a generic note too, I was delighted to receive it. Versatility in skill use seemed to be guaranteed gains like I had guessed earlier, confirmation of my theory was fantastic.
Grinning happily, I ducked out the back door, giving a jaunty wave to one of the young ladies that Vikky employed in the kitchen.
She was a skittish thing, not unpretty, but needed some growing and about thirty more pounds on her.
“Okay Marie, I’m heading out, the dishes are all yours again.” I said with a smile.
“Ugh, I hate dishes!” She announced, rolling her eyes and throwing up her hands.
“I’ll bring you something to help with your hands in an hour or so.” I told her, frowning at her ragged and angry-looking red hands. She suddenly grew self-conscious and hands behind her back. She looked to the ground and darted into the kitchen.
That soap was not friendly looking at my own red hands, I figured a little health tonic would help remedy that.
I started towards the cabins before stopping short, there was a collection of barrels behind the tavern. Some of them had a loose lid and I took a peek inside. Water. I inspected them to be sure.
Name: Barrel
Material: Wood
Durability: Average
Value: Average
FLAGS: NONE
Contents: Water
Contents Flags: NONE
Contents Efficacy: Average
Seemed good, I took my flask out of my jacket’s inner pocket and tossed it into the barrel with the cap off. After a few minutes the water had drained away. Just enough water remained to keep it submerged. It seemed whatever physics governed the liquid in the bottomless pocket didn’t follow the laws of fluid dynamics.
There were three more barrels lined up next to each other, one was empty, another one full, and the last one had a small wooden aqueduct from some jury rigged gutters leading to it. Rainwater, smart.
I sucked up every drop I could before surreptitiously looking around and walking away with exaggerated step like a caricature of a thief. Those steps mixed with bent arms and grabbing hands brought to mind a song called The Creep.
I continued walking like a jackass before spinning and pressing my back up against the Red Wolves cabin. I looked left and right, seeing nobody watching, I spun again and slinked into the little alley. Hidden away, I ran the rune-code upgrades on the pan and made my flasks contents into healing tonic.
I split the jar of honey between the vials and gave each a vigorous shake to mix it well.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the Alchemy skill!]
[Alchemy]
Unlock Conditions – Combine or transform ingredients to create a compound substance that can help or hinder.
[lvl 1] - You can identify common herbs and their common uses. TO OBTAIN, SOMETHING OF EQUAL VALUE MUST BE LOST. THAT IS ALCHEMY'S FIRST LAW OF EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE!
That was an interesting skill. It made me wonder what sort of potions people could make the legitimate way. Someone had to have looted or made the healing potion that Ryan had. This skill made me think a crafter more than RNGesus may have been responsible. However, I was able to cheat out of the equivalent exchange portion of alchemy.
I made a quick trip to the tavern’s back kitchen entrance and gave a tonic to Marie. She was too anxious to say anything more than a mumbled thank you.
“No worries, just take a small sip so it lasts longer, it isn’t a miracle healing potion, more a herbal remedy, but it should fix your hands up in a hour or so, so you don’t need to wait all the way until the nightly reset.” I instructed her in my best imitation of a medical professional.
She silently nodded and I chuckled rustling her hair before leaving the kitchen. She reminded me of my daughter. That skittish nervous behavior. I peeked in and saw her take a sip of the potion. As I headed back to the cabin, I wanted to consider the day a success, but the missing Oskar squished that feeling pretty heavily.