The next morning, I felt rebuilt. Pest was full of energy as well and had ransacked the longhouse for treasures all morning. I saw him running off and back to the rucksack often. I quietly slipped on the rucksack and scooped him up as I made my way out of the longhouse. He tolerated my holding him and lay along my forearm as I got to ruffle his fur like a bond villain. We slept in a communal sleeping room that was mostly occupied by soldiers. As a majority they snored loudly, sleeping off their drinking from the night before. They must not get the blue-screen alarm clock like I did.
The few that were awake just nodded at me as I made my way out. I raided the bits and pieces of food left out for breakfast and Ingamar appeared while Pest and I snacked to hand me a leather sack of supplies. Peeking inside I found a mixture of trail rations and dried meats. I thanked her and she smiled for the first time. It was an imperfect crooked smile. And I wished she could do it more often. She was more of a person than Oskar was. I felt I shared more of connection with her in the few bits of contact we had while she served me snacks and found me clothes than I ever shared with the boy who followed me for days. Maybe it was the higher cognition level she held or maybe her ADAPTABLE trait made her more present to my mind. Whatever it was I felt a need to help her. Hell, maybe I was just a sucker for a crooked smile. I motioned for her to sit across from me and after a great reluctance she agreed. She sat shyly, hunched in on herself like she was trying to hide in plain sight.
“Can you buy your freedom?” I asked her bluntly. She looked up in surprise and blinked at me owlishly.
“Yes… but no, it is too much.” She stammered in a whisper to me.
“How much?”
“A half-pound of silver,” she said and cast her eyes down. I had no idea how much that was, but apparently for her it was an unimaginable sum. A half-pound of silver for your own life? It seemed too little. I frowned as I dug in my rucksack, pulling out a small handful of coins. Pest did not attack me this time.
‘Good deal.’ He told me when I glanced at him. I was mildly surprised he understood.
The handful of coins were a mix of sizes and colors, one of them a gold coin that I had found in the crypt. I put them on the table in front of her and she just stared at the small pile.
“Is this enough?” I asked her as she gazed mutely at the coins. She nodded the tiniest nod.
I looked around the room and a handful of the soldiers watched us closely.
“These are hers,” I announced loudly. “If I find anyone has taken them from her without her permission, or hear any harm befell her...” I left the threat hanging. I’m sure a Viking mind knew plenty of tortures worse than anything I could give voice to.
I stood and looked at her. She had her hands hidden in her lap and just kept staring at the little pile of coins. She was stuck, but only her own choices from here on out would help her. I prayed that Uhtred was honorable, and nobody stole the coins from her before she was able to buy her freedom. As I was leaving, I hesitated and almost went back when the thought of someone accusing her of stealing or doing something untoward to earn the coins entered my mind. No, I had to hope it would work out. That a little of my Golden Ticket luck would rub off on her. Hopefully not the luck that made me pitch face first from the side of a cliff. I would check in later, to see if she was able to break free from her role. And if things were not as they should be, as in if something ill befell her, then I’d become one of those Chosen that they feared. The undying grudge holding kind.
I had to rouse the boy thrall that handled the stable to get Finley. They had brushed and fed her, and she looked spirited and ready for a new day. I led her out of the earl’s courtyard and took a long look both ways down the street. I didn’t see any evidence of Vinlander ambush. I led Finley away from the Chosen Tavern, towards the shoreline. There were multiple docks going out into the water, early morning fisherman casting off or inspecting nets for their daily chore. I had two choices as I saw it. I could lurk in the city or leave it. I was more than a little annoyed, as I had just gotten here and wasn’t ready to leave yet, but this city had dangers and wasn’t that big. I didn’t even know if it technically qualified to be called a city by my modern standards. I needed to make friends or get rid of the Vinlanders. Both would be best. But I couldn’t stay here without a plan. They’d find me eventually.
I made my way along the coast heading towards the closer wall, which was opposite the one I entered by. The docks were sporadic and unconnected but they were low and flush with the shore so Finley could easily make her way along. The area looked mostly like storage and support structures for the ships. Dry docks and weavers for fishing nets amongst other things.
I was fascinated by the ships, the fishing vessels were small single mast dinghies. A few guys could easily fit and handle it with space left for the nets and catch. The classic Viking raiding ships were present, some larger than others but overall, they had the same features. A single mast and oar holes for at least a dozen men on the small ships, twice that for the larger craft. A figurehead adorned each ship, some in the shapes of monsters with snarling teeth, some with swirls reminiscent of a snake’s tail. I wish I knew more about sailing ships, but it was something I could only guess about. Seeing these sleek and awesome vessels made me want to steal away with one and go on sea bound raiding adventures. But I would probably get stuck out on open water not knowing how to handle the sails and run down by competent mariners who wanted their vessel back.
As I went further the buildings turned into ‘industrial’ crafts. Blacksmiths, tanneries, and things of that sort. Even a sawmill was there, run by horses attached to a wheel. I was curious as to why they didn’t use a water wheel on the river, but I guess that would ruin the rich guy’s view.
I finally came to the wall of the city, a ramp led up the interior side of the wall to a roadway that went along the top of the earth structure alongside of the wooden palisades. I couldn’t see through the logs, they were so well put together, but I imagined the view from the wall would be nice. Even if it only looked over the low hills of the grasslands.
We made our way along the road and looked over the city. It did afford a good view of that, being higher than most of the buildings. I could see the Chosen Tavern amongst its little fort and the handful of outbuildings. It was a block or so away, with the craftsman buildings separating us. Some of them had already started up and were billowing smoke out the top, helping hide me from searching Chosen, if they cared to look.
The only corners of the city I hadn’t gotten a glance at were behind the poor section, and the little corner behind the market. But from what I could make out from here, the market area looked to be livestock pens. As we approached the gate I didn’t dally and went down another ramp to get to the main street and slipped out of town. When we got out of town I mounted up and started riding along the road.
To my surprise the grasslands had a little bit of forest on this side. It had been heavily reduced but remaining stumps and more brush like foliage revealed its biome change. There was a good distance before the trees started, and I was happy with that fact. I could hide out in the woods until I figured out my next course of action. I needed to meet more Chosen, hopefully ones that weren’t complete assholes.
As I rode, I considered the problem of the Vinlanders. They couldn’t die for longer than a day. And I still wasn’t sure how respawning worked. I assumed one could have a home base respawn seeing as how Urkel coming back in his hunting blind. But I never received any sort of spawn point set notification after I built my camp. I had tried commands. Hadn’t I? It was getting hard to keep track of things. There was so much new to me about this place.
Set spawnpoint. I intoned in the special way.
[Spawnpoint Set]
I face-palmed. God damnit. Next spare points I get, they are going into Wits or Recollection. I’m lucky I didn’t die when building my camp or travelling down here. Who knows where I would have popped back up. And if Pest didn’t catch a ride in my rucksack, would he teleport in wherever I spawned, or would it become a forever journey of reuniting? This wasn’t Homeward Bound or a Terry Goodkind novel.
“Pest, set your spawnpoint.”
‘What?’ He asked from his perch atop the rucksack.
“Can you say, ‘set spawnpoint’ to the system please?” I asked him.
‘The auditor did not respond.’
“Auditor?” I asked confused.
‘Yes, the business auditor who grants skills and rewards to all successful associates.’ He informed me. ‘Do you not know of the auditor?’ He asked, his stance going ridged. ‘Or do you lack the spark of intelligence that allows you to see it? Like so many of Pest’s kind?’
I frowned, and my frown only deepened the more he spoke. Inspect.
Name: Pest
Race: Ferret
Type: Creature
Allegiance: Viktor (bond)
FLAGS: COGNITION_3, IS_BOUND (Viktor), MERCHANT, ADAPTABLE
Health: Healthy
Energy: Full
His cognition had gone up. He got ‘smarter’. And the first thing he did since I noticed was call me stupid. Cheeky little fucker.
I pulled up his profile as well since I hadn’t looked at it in ages. It was still mostly undisclosed to me and auto-hid those fields to save on space.
[Pest - Ferret]
Trust: Unbreakable Contract + Companion
The trust had an addition to it. Companion. I wonder for how long Pest thought of me as a companion as well as his ‘chairman’.
I decided to check my profile as well. It’s not like I had anything too excitingly different on it, but a refresher didn’t hurt.
[Viktor]
Strength 8
Agility 5
Constitution 7
Wits 7
Recollection 5
Charisma 5
Luck 9
Titles: Alpha Tester
Perks: Golden Ticket
Boons: Loki’s Boon (Furry Lover)
Skills: Collapsed
Schematics: Collapsed
I was pleased that my skill tree and schematics collapsed, else I might be reading for a half hour going through everything I unlocked. Maybe I could take some time later to go through everything with a fine-tooth comb, but right now it sounded a little dull to look at all my punching and kicking skills or the junk I could make.
“Pest,” I asked politely, “What is your Wits score?”
‘Six,’ he told me immediately.
“Mother fucker!” I burst out.
‘Yes, someday Pest wishes to sire many kits.’ He responded.
“You are almost as smart as I am!”
‘Almost?’ he asked with his piercing stare.
“Almost!” I glared at him through slit eyes. I knew he was mocking me now. “Go sleep for like thirteen hours or something you little weasel.”
‘Okay,’ he said with a yawn and dove into the rucksack without a hint of shame.
I just shook my head as we continued the ride away from town.
How to deal with immortals with respawn capabilities? Death would only last a day. Imprisonment would work until they committed suicide or starved to death. Banishment would only work if their spawn point wasn’t set to inside the area they were banished from. Could I somehow forcibly set their spawn point somewhere and then dump them in a hole they couldn’t crawl out of? I think I read something like that once. Could they just undo the spawn point and return to random location spawning? I don’t think I had any way to do away with them. Even the earl grew tired of killing them every day and locked them into a self-imposed quasi-prison with free booze and thrall women.
I grit my teeth. Women like Ingamar. Innocent women. These NPCs, even though some were dumb as a box of rocks, were indistinguishable from real people. Some people I had known back home were dumb as a box of rocks, and society let them live their lives. If anything, we, the Chosen with our skills and abilities and lack of permanent consequences, were the strange ones. What could a group of normal people do against someone with a bad attitude, unending life, and a vengeful streak? We could be saviors or monsters.
That asshole boss of the Vinlanders had tried to blind me. Of all the things he could have done, he went straight for my eye when he got serious. So that led me to believe that we could still be maimed. I took the way our bodies scared instead of healed clean as supporting proof. I could maim them. How dangerous were thugs that had no arms? How dangerous is a rapist without a dick? I pondered with dark vindictive thoughts.
Maybe Highlander rules applied? Beheading was the only way to end the cycle? I felt if it was that simple, it would have been done. Vikings weren’t known for leaving enemies intact. And if the earl had been killing Chosen, he should have found out something along those lines. I lacked information that was vital to rid me of these bastards.
“Hey Loki,” I said to the sky in a semi-mocking prayer. “Do a guy a favor and show him how to end other Chosen?”
The blue sky failed to respond.
“Some benefactor,” I muttered.
I realized, for a guy needing information, I had fucked up. I didn’t inspect any of them. I cursed myself for slipping up. Maybe something I would have seen would have helped me. Maybe they had an ASSHOLE flag I could have erased for them.
As I chastised myself for my error, I decided to pay more attention to my surroundings. The grasslands and abutting clear cut forest biomes had an obvious division. The grazing animals that I had ignored before were spread out. They weren’t uncommon animals, but differed from what I was used to seeing. Back home I normally saw mostly cows out to pasture. But there didn’t seem to be any in this area. It was mostly sheep and horses. The sheep were dark, near black and extremely puffy. I didn’t know how they could manage under all that weight of fluff they carried around. A great majority of them had multiple horns. Not just a single set, but two, or some even three. One set would come out the top of their head and fan out, another would go down ringing the face, and the rare third set would come out the sides. They looked like depictions of demonic entities. But they just chewed at grass and randomly baa’d at me if I passed to close. The horses were like Finley, ranging in multiple colors, and with thick fur. The little afro-like manes were common, making it hard to see their eyes amongst all the floof.
I gave Finley a friendly tousle to her mane. None of them were as pretty as my, bronze copper swirl with a hint of lime, girl. I decided I was far enough away from the town and cut towards the coast. I dismounted and led Finley through the tree stumps, they didn’t do a lot of work on cleanup. Fallen limbs and bushes made snares on the ground that threatened to trip us. I had to go carefully for fear of a broken ankle, or even worse, Finley breaking a leg. We made it to the beach after careful navigation and stood on a sandy beach. At the low water mark stones full of barnacles made footing treacherous, at the high water mark a collection of driftwood made a mess of tangles.
But between those dangers a nice sandbar stretched along the distance that we were able to walk down easily. We went along the coast for a little while until I felt satisfied that we had made it far enough away from the city to take a rest. I decided to take stock of my belongings. My rucksack was a mess of stuff and the random rations in my food bag smelled a little ripe. I found a nice open spot with a driftwood log as a seat and upended the rucksack onto the beach. Junk, and Pest, spilled out in a pile.
“Inventory Audit!” I exclaimed happily. He glared at me.
I noticed right away that my coin stash had taken a decent hit. Down to around two dozen coins of various sorts and only one gold coin left. The random bits of hardware were still present. Chain manacle, nails, and lockbox parts. I even still had some stone arrowheads I had completely forgotten about. The leather scraps had seen better days, it looked like Pest had used them for chew toys. The bowl that the dark elf had gifted me with its companion spoon. Even though I had unintentionally eaten some human soup out of them I was reluctant to part with them. They were metal of some sort and seemed durable.
I found the pipe that the old man had given me last night, as well as a twin to it that Pest must have added. He acquired quite a lot of bits and pieces over our journeys it seemed. His little collection had added some interesting sparkly rocks. Quartz if I wasn’t mistaken. A collection of soft sticks full of chew marks. A small carving tool that the old timer had been using to whittle at the wood. It had a small, curved blade with a cutting edge on the inside that was attached to a dark wooden handle. He had been using it to round out the bowls on his pipes and add engraving to them.
As I was pawing through things Pest immediately started snatching up the coins and returning them to the rucksack, one at a time. I let him take care of his chores as I examined the rest of his treasures. What an interesting little guy he was. A particularly bloody piece of something had me confused. It was curved with a rounded edge and was very squishy. Almost like a small section of cording, but the material was odd.
“Hey, little buddy, what is this?” I asked him.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
‘Ear.’ He said and continued recollecting his horde.
“Ear?” I asked in confusion as I squished and twisted it. It was weird, kind of cartilage like.
‘Ear from rival.’ He confirmed for me.
“Ear from r… Oh.” I dropped it and wiped my hand on the sand. It was a piece of Fat Pitbull’s ear. Pest had ripped a chunk of it right off his head and brought it back as a trophy. I hadn’t even noticed he had it in his mouth when we fled.
He snatched it from where I dropped it and dove into the rucksack with it.
“Dude!” I yelled at him as he stowed it away. Okay, I guess he liked trophies. “He buddy, I have an idea. Bring it back.”
He came back out with his trophy, and I took the little neck bag I had taken the cannibal.
“Why don’t you put your special trophies in here, so it doesn’t… So it doesn’t get in the way of enjoying the coins. Yea?” I offered him the little bag. He stuffed his head into the little pouch and came out without the trophy. I sinched it up tight and tied it to the outside of the rucksack. “There ya go.”
I gave the little pouch a pat. I would be losing that at the first opportunity. Gross.
Amongst the rest of his loot, which was mostly bits of food and various debris, he had a ring. It was a silver band, with a piece of amber set in it. It may have been a real treasure. As sun filtered through the amber, a rune cleverly carved in its surface would show up faintly on the sand. It was really neat, and I was disappointed that it didn’t fit any of my fingers. I went ahead and Inspected it.
Name: Ring
Material: Silver, Amber
Value: Treasure
FLAGS: CORROSION_RESISTANT
Someone was going to be seriously disappointed in the loss. I didn’t mind Pest’s minor thievery, a small moral revenge for their slave trading ways. Like stealing from a large corporation that paid its workers trash rates while raking in the profit for the few on the top.
I went ahead and repacked the rucksack, leaving all the trash out. Pest wasn’t pleased and tried to put some of it back, but then we played fetch. As in, I threw bits of trash as far away as I could, and he chased after it. His little hoarding drive couldn’t handle any of his treasures to be lost.
I went into the food bag. It was mostly scraps. My poorly dried meat and a last very soft apple. I tossed all of it to the side, only keeping the henbane leaves that didn’t have yuck on them. Not that I had the fresh rations I didn’t need any of that. There were even some nut and grain clusters bound together with honey. As Pest came running back with a piece of a stick he had reacquired I distracted him with a chunk of the granola. He immediately abandoned the item and stared at me.
‘Tasty!’ He announced and tracked the little morsel in the air while I waved it around.
“You want this?” He tried to climb my leg, I just laughed and gave it to him. He rushed into the rucksack with it, and I heard faint crunching as he chewed it up. I smiled and picked up the rucksack, affixing it and the other leather bags I had to Finley’s saddle. She got a crumble of the granola as well.
With two happy animals, I continued down the beach. It was time to find a camp site to base myself out of near the city. I considered going back to the cliffside cave, but without a way to get Finley to it, she would be at the mercy of whoever came along the road. That wasn’t ideal.
We passed far enough through the clear-cut forest that trees began to come back. Rock stacks started to jut out of the water and before long the beach started to mingle with more cliff faces. The trees hid the coastline from me as they grew right up to the edge of the water. It looked like my beach crawl had come to an end, so I had to climb a steep crumbling incline to get off the beach and was instantly swallowed by the forest. Finley struggled a little but was able to climb up behind me. I couldn’t remount her in the trees as there wasn’t a good trail through the suddenly dense woods. Only the grace of a high canopy kept her able to move through it at all, but if I got on her, I’d never stay seated with all the limbs just over out head.
The abrupt biome changes were unnatural feeling, the transition from one area to the next too sudden, but I had to chalk it up to the game-like nature of the tower. There was no other explanation for it. It was like a giant had cut a chunk of forest out and just plopped it down next to the water. But I wasn’t going to complain, I was happy about the variation after spending all those days in the very boring hilly grasslands.
I decided that this could be a good camp location. It was a heavily forested area surrounded by close trees and thick brush. A steep rise in the earth made a natural wall for a span until it joined some hills. The only obvious immediate access was from the beach and that was a bit of a struggle climbing the loose soil that made the incline. If anything came from the trees, they would have to fight through brush, and we should be able to hear it. I released Finley and she immediately began chewing at some berry bushes. She seemed to approve of this spot too. I didn’t have much space to work with at first but using Frontiersman to clear some ground opened it up for use. I fetched some of the driftwood high on the beach that had been sun dried, it was light and easily chopped up with my hatchet. I set up a firepit but didn’t light it, just having it ready to go. The hatchet made it so much easier handling the wood than using a stone axe. I took down a small tree that I sectioned into beams and poles for crafting. Using a collection of driftwood and brush I made a small lean-to. I tried to replicate the weaving method of the sticks I had seen in town to mild success. It earned me two new notifications.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the schematic for Lean-to!]
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the schematic for Wattle!]
I guess the fence and wall woven stick things were called wattles. Who knew? It made a decent panel, but it wasn’t very waterproof looking, so I tossed some branches full of leaves on top of it for better insulation. And before long I had a suitable little camp. Pest had arisen and started investigating the area. He started digging at the dirt wall to the side of our camp as I rested on a log that I made into a seat.
As he dug at the dirt I examined the wall, it was an odd rise in the earth, like it had been worked or shaved away at with an excavator. Kind of like a highway overpass, just missing the bridge. And road. And the construction equipment required to make it. Or maybe like a giant molehill? At least a season old so grass and vegetation had grown back over it.
As Pest dug through the top layer and started to get into the dirt, I saw it was loose soil easily removed. He was having a good time making a hell of a mess.
A familiar tickle of excitement started to grip my heart. A promise of treasure below the surface. I used my hatchet to fashion myself a crude digging stick from a wooden pole.
“Here buddy.” I said and scooted Pest to the side. “Let me take a turn at digging.”
He looked happy to have some relief and flopped onto the ground. I started stabbing into the dirt, breaking it loose with my stick. It wasn’t very efficient but worked better than using my hands.
[Congratulations! Excavator has increased to Level 2!]
[Congratulations! You have gained one stat point to allocate!]
The skill made it a little more efficient, but I wasn’t going to win any speed awards. And since I didn’t feel like passing out from energy expenditure, I dug the old-fashioned way. I even used my bowl to scoop the loose dirt I broke away from the hill. It gave me plenty of time to think about how to deal with Vinlanders, the mindless task of digging was perfect for that.
Unfortunately, nothing new came to my mind, it was just more of the same. Vinlanders were bad and needed to be removed. Somehow.
We bedded down, dirty and sore after a day of hiking, making camp, and digging. I gave Pest another snack of honey granola and stared at the bottom of the trees. I still didn’t light the fire, hoping to stay under notice for as long as possible. The darkness engulfed us quickly. It was a moonless night, and I enjoyed the peaceful night in the dark. I missed my deer hide bedroll. I’d have to find a replacement.
With thoughts and plans on how to sneak back into town and visit the market next to the Chosen Tavern I fell asleep.
The next morning, I got my normal survival message popup wakeup call, and a notification on getting another perk fragment. That put me at six. As slow as the buildup to getting another perk was, I hoped the payoff was worth it.
I had a breakfast of bread and salted fish. It tasted like sardine and wasn’t spectacular, but it was something. Pest had no complaints. The excitement gripped me again as I stared at the wall, and it didn’t take long before I was digging at it again. The loose soil was problematic, and I had to cut down some trees and make them into boards so I could reinforce the mini-mineshaft I was making. After starting to dig again I noticed how much of a mess I was making of my new clothes, so I decided to go au naturel. The dirt was soft so going bootless didn’t bother me. And I could just wash up in the lake afterwards.
After about half a day and six feet of digging I hit some stone. It wasn’t natural stone, but bricks that were mortared into place. I cleared off a square section of a few feet finding a whole wall worth of them. The bricks were solid and well fit, so I used my spoon as a scraper and gouger and picked away at the mortar. It was tedious, and I soon damaged the spoon enough that it wouldn’t function so well as an eating utensil. Nobody wanted a spoon with sharp edges and burs in it. But it worked at removing mortar.
I finally managed to loosen a brick and pulled it free. I peered in the hole, but it was dark. I made a crude torch out of a stick and some dry ground brush rapped around the end.
[Congratulations! You have unlocked the schematic for Torch!]
A handy addition. I lit the torch with my flint-knife and Pyromaniac skill and stuck it into the hole I had made. The small room was made all of bricks, a door was on one wall, it looked made of metal with strong banding and rivets. A true-blue fantasy treasure chest sat in the center of the room facing the door. Fuck yea!
I had to make myself a maul out of wood since I lacked any rope to bind a stick to a stone. Luckily my Woodworking skill and new carving knife let me cheat a little and easily put a hole through a block and join a handle with it.
I smashed the bricks with it, the ones I had loosened the mortar on caused a cascade failure in their structural integrity. With a decent bit of effort, I broke through the wall. Pest was hot on my heels feeling my excitement overwhelming through the bond. He dove through the hole in the wall, the little guy easily able to fit through the space of the missing bricks.
“Stay back buddy,” I asked him as I continued working at the wall.
Just as I smashed through enough bricks and started to squeeze into the room, the roof of my little mineshaft gave out and loose dirt collapsed onto me. I must have kicked a support or something as I struggled to crawl through the wall. It buried my legs and abdomen as my front stuck out the hole in the wall. I must have looked like a damned mounted wall trophy. An earth centaur. I pressed my elbows against the wall and struggled to pry myself loose. The weight of the earth made it hard to breath and pressed on my legs so hard they tingled. I struggled and fought to break loose. It was slow progress but eventually I got my hips past the wall and slipped out like the wall birthed me into the chamber. I lay on the ground panting. That was almost disastrous. Pest came over to tickle the side of my face with his little nose. This seemed to be a common theme. Me lying flat out and Pest checking on proof of life. I wonder if he’d eat my corpse like a cat would. Probably, he was all about easy meals and cutting costs.
“I’m fine,” I said and coughed as dirt fell into my mouth. I rolled over coughing and spitting before getting back to my feet. I rescued the torch from the floor as it was nearly snuffed out. I stabbed it upright into the dirt that avalanched into the room. It illuminated the small room quite adequately. My legs and ass were scraped and raw from dragging it through the collapsed earth and bricks. I knew au naturel would somehow go bad.
I looked around my new prison. That’s exactly what it looked like, a prison cell. Small and enclosed with solid brickwork and a metal door with only a most beautiful treasure chest to decorate it. It was large, the size of a steamer trunk and made of light-colored wood. Runes and caricatures of beasts were carved along its surfaces.
The clasp was a simple hook and ring with no lock. I slid it open and opened the chest.
The results were less than exciting. Within were a scattering of mundane items. Apparently, my treasure chest was some sort of travel luggage! A blanket was folded and stowed in the base of the chest, the classic red and white checkerboard look of a picnic blanket. A small woven basket with a lid held a set of wooden mugs with a corked bottle of something. A small silver flask and a wooden spoon tucked between them. I took the basket out and looked it over, it was just a plain picnic basket, no great masterpiece. I flipped out the blanket and spread it on the floor, placing the basket on it and unpacking it. A set of square wooden plates were under the mugs. I struggled for a moment and uncorked the bottle; it smelled like the local mead. I decided to begin my Inspecting with the bottle.
Name: Bottle
Material: Glass
Durability: Undamaged
Value: Average
FLAGS: NONE
Contents: Honey Mead
Contents Flags: RESTORATIVE, ALCOHOLIC
This was my first time Inspecting a container, I found it incredibly helpful that it also showed the contents. What’s more I hadn’t inspected any of the food or drink before that I can remember. Was RESTORATIVE a common flag for sustenance? Or was this a magic healing mead. I poured a sip into a wooden cup and took a drink. It tasted the same as the stuff I had sampled previously and looking at the scrapes on my legs and nether regions from the mini cave in didn’t reveal any magical sudden healing. I shrugged. Again, I wasn’t using my skills to their utmost. I needed to do better.
The small silver flask was a lot easier to open and didn’t have any scent to its contents.
Name: Flask
Material: Silver
Durability: Undamaged
Value: Treasure
FLAGS: ANOINTED(AEGIR), BOTTOMLESS
Contents: Spring Water
Contents Flags: NOURISHMENT
This little trinket was very interesting. ANOINTED, which made me think about priests and ceremonies. It had a name, I think, indicated with it. This item may have been dedicated to a god or person, if my guess wasn’t wrong. And BOTTOMLESS made me only think of one thing. I began pouring it into the mug. It was a very slow pour, just a tiny stream, about half the speed of a refrigerator water dispenser or public drinking fountain. But once it got to the point where it should have been completely empty, seeing as it was a small flask, like the sort you used for hard alcohol, it should have had only enough to fill half the mug. It kept pouring. And the NOURISHMENT made me lean more to the idea that the mead was indeed a healing item.
I filled the mug up and drank the water. It tasted clean and cool. It was great. I filled all four of the mugs with the little flask before stopping. A truly wondrous item. I wondered if I could change the liquid somehow. The flask was BOTTOMLESS, that just meant it had an infinite storage capacity, not that the water inside was infinite. If I poured all the spring water out, could I throw it in a bucket of ale and just wait for it all to drain into the flask? Is that why it was full of spring water? Someone had just tossed the thing into a spring after it was made to fill it up? An exciting find. I decided to inspect everything else to make sure none of these other mundane looking objects held hidden secrets. Most of the remainder of things were mundane and flagless but the spoon had something going on.
Name: Spoon
Material: Wood
Durability: Undamaged
Value: Treasure
FLAGS: INERT
A wooden spoon was treasure? What the hell kind of nonsense was that? It was a boring looking spoon, crudely carved from wood. The pipe that the old man had gave me day before yesterday was much better quality. It held the INERT flag though, like my hatchet. I needed to figure out what that meant. I sat on the picnic blanket cross legged and sipped at the mug of water with a pinky extended. A fine little tea party. Pest had come over and sniffed at all the new loot and was lapping water out of one of the mugs. He eventually unbalanced it and spilled water all over himself and danced away.
I took a peek into the ‘treasure chest’ making sure I didn’t miss anything, and low and behold I had missed something. A blue chunk of folded cloth was at the bottom of the chest. I frowned, it was a very familiar shade of blue. Maybe not quite as brilliantly bright as the boxes, because it wasn’t black lit. But it was still very blue. I pulled it out and it unfolded into a long jacket. My mouth dropped open at the sight. It was a long coat with a pointed tail, tailored slim at the waist and had large lapels fitted with silver buttons that went down one side. Small runes were embroidered throughout the fabric in dark grey. The colors were mirrored but it resembled the rune-code in the rifts, it only missed the glow effect that the letters put out. The end of the sleeves had large cuffs and three silver buttons in a row serving as cufflinks. The silver buttons alternated in rune carvings of a four lettered word and the relief of Loki that he had stamped on all the coins. Silver embroidery circled all the buttonholes and edged the seams. It looked like a steampunk or pirate’s dream jacket. I immediately inspected it.
Name: Frock Coat
Material: Wool, Silver
Durability: Undamaged
Value: Treasure
FLAGS: DURABLE, CHOSEN_ARMOR
It was fantastic, even though it was the evil blue. I slipped it on, and it felt amazing against my skin. I was grinning like an idiot, it fit perfectly. I wasn’t sure what the CHOSEN_ARMOR flag meant, but it was armor for a chosen, so I chalked it up as a tag to indicate its special anachronistic nature. I quickly opened its rune-code and copied CHOSEN_ARMOR and added CORROSION_RESISTANT to its flags. It was the only flag I had that would grant any benefits that I could think of. I doubt giving it an ANALGESIC flag would help. I didn’t want to eat it to get the effect. I was grinning like a buffoon and went back to my little tea party picnic.
I decided it was time to start collecting the flags from the new items and opened the rune-code rift for the bottle of mead. RESTORATIVE would be an awesome flag to have. I could turn regular food into healing items. Even if it was a weak effect. This time while I was tinkering, something went wrong. I found the flags section and started my normal routine of removing one rune at a time to pull out the flags and something different happened. As soon as I removed the first rune, the bottle turned buggy pink and exploded. Shards of pink glass went everywhere showing my naked body with mead and glass.
I screamed in pain as the force of the detonation was significant enough to impale the glass bits into me. The jacket protected me a little but had been hanging open, my lap directly under the bottle had no protection from the glass shards. I was staring right at the damn thing and yawning when it exploded. Glass tore into my eyes, nose, and mouth. I screamed a bloody gurgle and fell back, the god damn thing had blinded me, and glass was cutting into my face with each movement. I could taste and smell blood as it welled and threatened to drown me.
Report. Report. Report!
[This issue has been reported three times in quick succession. Do you wish to elevate the report to URGENT?]
[WARNING: Misuse of the URGENT feature could result in serious consequences if administration deems it necessary.]
Urgent Report! I shouted at the system, choking on my own blood.
I rolled to the side and got on my hands and feet, the glass embedded in my hands and knees ground into me as I tried to empty the blood out of my face and clear my airways. I didn’t want to scrape at my mouth, afraid that the action would make everything worse. I just had to hold up until Loki decided to show up, then he could fix my fuck up. How was I going to explain the pink exploding glass? It didn’t matter, I couldn’t see shit to fix it, I would just have to play dumb. I shouted in panic as something crawled over the back of my hand and started licking my arm. It was Pest, he had been away from the explosion and was checking on me. The party system still showed his outline to me, even though I couldn’t see anything else other than flashes of color and light.
I tried to tell him I was okay, even if I wasn’t, because that’s what one did. But the words wouldn’t work, each flex of my tongue or mouth painful. I was fucking maimed. If I died, would I come back a cripple? Unable to see or talk? God damnit. What went wrong? I broke the shit out of that bottle. Maybe I broke the separation in the code between the container and contents? This place’s version of splitting an atom? Occupying the same space with different matter at the same time? Did it matter? It was violent. And it fucking hurt like a mother fucker.
“What in my name did you do to yourself?” A snobbish voice called from above me.
“’ant ‘al’” I tried to talk, but it wasn’t working. It just came out as a strange moan. I tried to wave a hand in the air, hoping the pink glass would catch his attention.
“Oh, that looks bloody.” He said commiserating for a moment then took on his normal superior airs. “You know, Urgent Report should be used for bug reports that are disastrous to the tower, not for when you get a…. boo boo.”
“If you abuse the system, there needs to be punishment,” he said sternly.
“’Ink ‘Ottle E’s’lode.” I suffered through the glass in my mouth trying to get some understandable words out.
“Ink waddle is loaded?” He let out a sigh. “Listen Alpha Tester Viktor, if this level of gibberish is the only excuse you can come up with, we may need to reconsider your Senior Alpha Tester title.” He started to sound quite irritated.
“’ait,” I got out and reached a trembling hand into my mouth, it was wet and slick with blood, but I grabbed a large shard of glass that had impaled my tongue. I gagged and shuddered as I ripped it loose from my flesh.
“Ate? What…. What are you doing, are you trying to make yourself vomit? Do you have bulimia?” He sounded disgusted as he said it.
With a trembling hand I waved the pink shard of glass at him, shaking it violently hoping the blood would come off. I heard him step away with a disgusted noise.
“Pink!” I said, finally able to get the word out clearly. “Pink bottle exploded!”
I heard a snap and suddenly the pain was gone. I found myself standing and able to see. I looked at my hands, the glass and wounds were gone. Looking up, Loki stood with a cloud of glass shards circling above his hand like the world’s most dangerous baby mobile.
“A pink bottle, like the flower, I was looking at it, and it exploded in my face.” I finally was able to explain to him. He spared a glance for me and winced.
“What the hell are you wearing?” He asked me.
“A very fine jacket.” I told him while opening it and doing a spin.
“Why is it the only thing you are wearing?”
“Reasons.” I informed him.
“Why are you so weird?” He asked me. I snorted.
“You are one to talk!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Look at what you are wearing!”
“Do you have a problem with my fashion?” he asked haughtily with a bit of a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Dude, you are wearing a black bowtie and leather chaps without a shirt,” I exclaimed and gestured at him. He was sporting the male exotic dancer chic today.
“You are wearing a bright blue pirate jacket and nothing else!” he shot back.
“Touché,” I said to myself. “But if you look close, the buttons are little pictures of you face.” I twisted one around making it dance. He glared at me until I stopped.
“I am not sure if that makes it better or worse.” He said before turning back to the remains of the bottle. “Now, as for this thing. Whatever it once was, it is completely broken and corrupt now. I cannot even tell what it was supposed to be.”
He swirled his hand and made a fist. The glass shards all twisted around and came together to fuse into a ball with sharp jagged shards poking out. He fiddled with its rune-code a little and it resumed a glass quality losing its pink color. He gestured towards me, and the glass ball flew over to me like he had tossed it underhand.
Like an idiot, I reached out and caught it. It embedded into my hand, stabbing me.
“Mother fucker!” I yelled.
“Do not ever talk shit about my fashion.” He said with a scowl and snapped his fingers. He disappeared.
I cursed some more as blood poured out of my hand; the ball stuck in my grip.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this bullshit?!” I shouted.