Iconic Spell Augment Selection
Choose a new spell to learn. You may replace this spell with any other spell you are eligible to learn by consuming its Spell Card or using a Spell Book.
Iconic Spell Augment – Fragmented Spell
Base Spellcraft: Add 1
Spellcraft Multiplier: Add 100%
You can break your spell’s casting time into fragments. A spell cast this way does not need to be cast all at once: you can finish part of the casting, then resume it later after having taken other actions, including casting spells. If your casting of a fragmented spell is interrupted, the spell is not lost, and you can still complete the spell when you are able.
When the casting is completed, you may hold the spell ready for as long as you wish, then loose it at the moment you desire.
You may only be in the process of casting one fragmented casting at one time.
Iconic Spell Augment – Sudden Spell
Base Spellcraft: Add 1
Spellcraft Multiplier: Add 100%
Casting Speed: Subtract 50%
Cooldown: Special; 2 minutes (see below)
You may use this spell augment while it is on cooldown. If you do, the spell you cast has half the base effect that it normally would.
I read Fragmented Spell. Then I read it again.
Oh, sure, a very fast Hex of Chains was no joke, even if it came at half effectiveness. But instantly casting a spell that I’d finished before combat? By my math, even when rounding up, I’d be able to cast a Supercharged Fragmented version of almost any one of my spells—a quick review showed me that the highest Spellcraft requirement among them was 8, on Hex of Chains. Both Spell Augments would bring it to 30, first by adding 1 each and then by adding another 100% each. My spellcraft was 24; once I was level 5 it would be the 30 that I needed.
And instantly casting a double-strength Hex of Chains, or instantly casting a double-strength Magic Arrow, would be devastating.
I cast a Supercharged, Fragmented Magic Arrow, storing it for later use. Then I went deeper into the cave, eager to find another worm. When I did, I cast a Supercharged Hex of Chains, then hit it with several Magic Arrows, then damaged it down as usual. Before the chains had worn off and it was moving toward me I had brought it to 30%—at which point I released the Supercharged, Fragmented Magic Arrow, brought it below 10%, then finished it with another, normal cast.
I was almost giddy. What would it be like if I found a stronger, longer cast-time damage spell to combo these with? The worms had more hit points than I had when I was a level 6 mage—how strong would a strong spell be against other players?
Better still: how strong would a strong spell be if I expended my Moment of Mastery to make it crit?
I charged ahead into the cave with a sense of elation. A few more levels and enough wealth to buy and build some new spell cards, that was what I really needed. I had no idea how strong I might become if the system contained combos like this, but the prospect of actually doing what the load screen had asked of me—find me in the first dungeon—was seeming less and less like a pipe dream.
And that was important: much as this felt like it was all a game, it—okay, well it was all a game, but there was something else to this. Something deeper, more dangerous going on.
They are going to find Earth.
I killed a few more of the worms, which gave me just short of a third of my experience bar, then decided it was time to head back to town. I didn’t run into a single other player in the caves, but as I’d refreshed my illusion to show myself as a level 8 Mage and had plenty of escape opportunities between my grappling gun and my Mighty Leap, I hadn’t been too worried about gangs of player killers even if they attacked me.
I climbed the stairs without much exertion, but didn’t find Cuby at the fountain. The town square was packed by this point, and the sun was beginning to drop—I guessed it was something like 5 o’clock.
I approached the fountain with a sense of trepidation, half-expecting someone to point at me and shout: “Chosen! Get him!” or something of the kind. But I was as uninteresting to the people around me as I had been before—the illusion was holding. Instead they were all just shouting out what items they had for trade or were seeking—a normal video game town square.
It made me wonder. There was a trading interface, but no shop interface beyond that which I’d seen. I still had an inventory full of stuff. Would I get more selling it to shopkeepers or to players? When the rewards meant new spells and spell equipment, wouldn’t it be worth it to check around?
I opened my inventory:
Inventory [32/40]:
Common Item – Mana Potion (3)
Common Item – Demon Stone (20)
Common Item – Demon Stone (11)
Common Item – Great Machine Fragment (10)
Common Item – Great Machine Fragment (9)
Common Item – Derunite-Infused Scale (221)
[4] Common Item – Derunite Ore (10)
[4] Common Item – Derunite Ore (10)
[4] Common Item – Derunite Ore (3)
Common Item – Natural Glowstone (6)
Uncommon Item – Demon Stone (1)
[4] Uncommon Item – Mature Rock Worm Heart (4)
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Common Equipment – Simple Staff
Common Item – Power Cell (5)
Common Item – Card Stock (2)
Common Item – Scribe’s Paints (2)
Common Equipment – Simple Orb
Common Equipment – Simple Padded Armor
Common Item – Healing Potion (1)
Common Item – Stamina Potion (1)
There were people buying and selling demon stones as well as weapons, but I figured I’d need more information as to what everything was priced at, both in town and in the square, to really sell. At the same time, my inventory had almost completely filled up—funny how fast that happens.
As I thought of what to do and scanned the crowd for Cuby, my attention kept coming back to a man who was hawking his wares nearby. He was a beastfolk, a sort of human-alligator hybrid, physically intimidating at eight feet tall and with girth to match despite the fact that he was a level 4 Professional. He was an exception to the players around us, who typically made their deals and left the square, presumably to resume adventuring or find a place to sleep.
His business, it seemed, was never done. And the more I thought of it, the more I was sure I’d seen him there that afternoon, before Cuby and I had made our grappling guns. He was buying and selling everything, as he was happy to tell:
“Goods!” he cried, “Services! Bought and sold! Herbs, ores, metals, potions, items, I will take what you don’t need and exchange it for what you do! You could stop at five or six traders, or just one! The hierarchy is vanished, here, and yet who will you trust to trade with—if not a Karox of the Fold?”
This intrigued me, and I approached him with a curious request in mind. Hiding my nature as a human and as a player who had a chosen boon wasn’t a problem that would be solved by my False Identity spell alone, and the loading screen’s ominous message still weighed on my mind.
“You may have something I need,” I said, approaching the towering lizard-man.
“Name it,” he said. He smiled as he said this, and I assumed that much like with Cuby the expression was something he was making instinctively—the comfort and reassurance that the expression normally provides is somewhat diminished when it delivered by the face of a humanoid alligator.
“Information and confidentially,” I said. “I have questions that I need answered—but they’re strange questions. I need to know that if I pay you to, you’ll keep every part of our conversation, and the fact that you ever met me, a secret.”
The man was quiet a moment. He regarded me with a serious expression, but I couldn’t read the emotion in it beyond that—but the silence stretched on into discomfort.
“If I’ve insulted you by asking, I apologize,” I said.
“You heard me say I was a Karox of the Fold,” he said pointedly.
“I did,” I said, nodding.
“My comrade,” he began, “if you do not believe that my secrecy can be bought, then I can give you no reassurance.” He cocked his head at me. “But of course my secrecy can be bought. It is a strange thing for anyone to misconceive—are you perhaps an NPC? I took you for a mage with your starter robes still on.”
“I am,” I said. “But, you see, I am an AI, an administrative assistant who got here through the lottery. But I malfunctioned in the upload. I want someone I can ask questions, and I want to know that…” I paused, wondering how to proceed. “—That the vulnerabilities I reveal by those questions won’t be exploited.”
He took this in, then nodded with an expression that I had to guess was understanding, his muzzle crinkling as his brow furrowed. “I see. Then I will give you this, because I am charitable: Upon my honor, I will tell no-one that I met you, or anything of our conversation as it has happened thus far.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He shook his head vigorously. “Do not thank me. I am charitable.”
“Ah, all right.”
“You may ask me whatever you like,” he said. “And I will answer, and keep it a secret that you asked.”
“I want you to keep it a secret that you ever met me,” I said.
“As you wish,” he said. “And you must know that I may refuse your questions, either because I do not know the answers or because I don’t wish to answer them.”
“That’s understandable.”
“If the deal is set, we shall speak of price,” he said with a decisive nod.
“All right.”
“Twenty gold per question,” he said.
My heart sank. I couldn’t afford it, not for all the questions I needed to ask. And if he expected me to haggle—well, there wasn’t a lot of that in Minneapolis, even if my major had been business.
“My work here is valuable,” he said in answer to my hesitation, his eyes scanning the bustling square. “It stands to reason that I may miss a profitable transaction, should I spend so much time speaking with you. I will be well compensated.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I can’t afford that—not for the questions I have to ask, not even if you wanted to buy my entire inventory.”
“That is unfortunate. Because that is my price.”
“And if I return when the market’s not so hot? At night, when there are fewer people out to trade?”
He nodded. “That would be reasonable. Five gold a question, unless the market is still crowded.”
I peered at him, thinking that someone who was profit motivated would be less likely to admit that—more likely to try and make me fear missing out. But what did I know about these people?
“Deal,” I said. “I’ll come back later. Now, want to tell me what you’ll pay me for my inventory?”
The lizardfolk grinned. “I do.”
We traded, and I showed him almost everything: the ore, the scales, the demonstones, the worm hearts. He gave everything a value and tallied it all up quick: 365 gold.
Then I had an idea. “What about this?” I asked, unequipping my staff and placing it into the trade window.
His eyes widened a little. “Ah. Another 800.”
I tried to maintain my composure. I had suspected the weapon would sell well, and not just because it was a nice upgrade—a fancy weapon was exactly the kind of thing some people would overpay for, and this trader-player seemed to know what he was doing.
“Great,” I said, closing the trade. “I’d love to take you up on your offer… but I need to check some things first.”
The lizardfolk positively grinned. “Of course,” he said. “But you won’t find better from the NPCs.”
“Right,” I said. I stepped away a bit, then thought to ask the trader his name, then realized that it might make me seem suspicious to anyone who wasn’t an NPC. I tagged him: his name was Karrol Stir. “See you soon, then.”
He inclined his head. “You will.”
I sat on the edge of the fountain for a minute. The sun was already setting, and I figured it wouldn’t be long. Unless Cuby wanted to go out at night, in which case—actually, what would I do when Cuby wanted to go out together again?
I clearly needed an ally, or more than one. But Cuby’s outright willingness to murder put me off, no matter how much the people around me might accept that as part of the game. It made me scared enough of her that I wanted to hide my Chosen Boon from her, but I’d changed my abilities in such a way as to keep her fooled—which sort of implied, even if I’d been hesitant to admit it, that I wanted to keep her around.
By lying to her. Was it even feasible to convince her I was just a mage if we were partied up? Maybe just for a couple of levels, until the low-level killing sprees wore off….
“Hey!” said Cuby, poking me.
I looked over at her. She’d found me by the fountain, like we agreed. I thought about just telling her everything.
Then I thought about waking up with a knife in my eye. That, or she’d recruit some friends and do a good old-fashioned gank. If she’d kill a few strangers for half a level, what would she do for a Chosen Boon?
“Hey,” I said.
“What are you thinking of?” she asked, tilting her head. “You’re just sort of standing here.”
“Nothing,” I said. “I want to price check some things and sell some items.”
“Great!” she said with her typical exuberance. “I’ll help!”