"In doing nothing, one may find the world comes bearing gifts. It is best to accept them without question, for questioning is too much effort." — The Tao of Idleness, Book 2, Verse 8.
The percussion beat of repeated soft dings woke me up, my eyes fluttering open to see wooden rafters above me. For a moment, I had no idea where I was, but the pounding ache in my skull, an extremely sore chin and the feel of an unfamiliar bed beneath me gave me a couple of clues: I clearly still wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The stench of stale beer and sweat lingered all around me, which made me think this was probably an upstairs tavern room into which someone - hopefully Lia? - had dragged my unconscious body after Kal had comprehensively rung my bell.
I tried to sit up, only for my body to protest with a series of musical pops, crunches and twinges. Lovely. My memories of the pub brawl were fuzzy – is it really a brawl if only one person throws a punch? - but I had a very vivid memory of his fist connecting with my face and my oh-so-helpful Ability triggering a Crit for him. As if someone so far above my Level needed that extra bit of help!
Trying to blot out the cacophony of whinging and whining reverberating around my head, I summoned up the internal resources to crack an eye open. Although the world continued to spin for a second, it soon managed to compose itself into something approximating normality. Sunlight filtered through a pair of shuttered windows, casting an anaemic glow over the room in which I found myself. Wherever I was, it certainly wasn’t fancy – they hadn’t exactly sprung for the Honeymoon Suite for the heroic Rogue, had they – and with a squint, I could just make out a rough wooden chair, a table on which was perched with a basin of water, and a small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall above it. It’s damn sad, but this is probably the plushest accommodation I’ve woken up in since Sonia kicked me out. I’d say the room even had distinct HMP vibes, but it’s far too clean for that. Oh, and I can’t make out any strung-out bunkmates licking Spice off the floor.
Good times.
The dings were becoming pretty insistent, so I gingerly gave a mental flick, and with it, a series of messages started to scroll down my (blurry) vision.
Idle XP Gains: 8 hours of inactivity
Progress: 60% towards Level 3
Nice. So even while I was knocked out cold, my Class would keep racking up those sweet, sweet rewards. Who knew lying face-down in a puddle of my own drool would make me a productive member of society? The notifications kept rolling in, layering over each other like when you accidentally crashed Solitaire on your PC, and ended up spreading the image of the card back all over your monitor.
Come on! That can’t just be me, right?
Loot Leech Activated: Buffed due to 8+ hours of non-collection.
Gold gained: 150 coins (x2 due to non-collection buff)
Items collected: 2 random resources (x2 due to non-collection buff)
Special Reward: Idle Loot Box (8-hour non-collection bonus)
Yeah, that ability is ridiculously OP. And a ‘Special Reward’ loot box? Don’t mind if I do. I may well have still been naked, tangled in rough sheets that were sticking to my sweaty skin and with a pounding headache, but that didn’t stop me from doing a little happy dance at my good fortune.
Free stuff was good stuff. Especially when you’d done nothing to earn it.
Loot Box Unlocked!
500 Gold
Epic Gear Set (Rogue Class)
‘The Tao of Idleness’ by The Great Slacker (First Edition)
Epic Gear. Yay! For a Rogue? Fuck off! Whoever is in charge of this reward system is clearly a) my confectionary-spreading Sugar Momma (thank you!) and b) enjoying royally taking the piss by perpetuating my lie (please, please, please stop!). Nevertheless, considering I have no idea where my actual clothes have gone, I’m not going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. With a bit of mental jujitsu I brought the Rogue set into focus, and sure enough, it’s a full kit designed to make any self-respecting Rogue look like the real deal.
Epic Rogue Set
- Shadowstalker’s Hood (+5 Agility, +3 Dexterity)
- Darkblade Tunic (+7 Dexterity, +2 Constitution)
- Silent Step Boots (+4 Agility, +1 Luck)
- Shadow Dagger (+10 Attack, +5 Critical Chance)
I couldn’t help but laugh: someone somewhere is absolutely invested in this ridiculous Rogue charade, aren’t they? Now, I don’t want to kink shame, but enforcing your leather fetish on the poor car-crash victim from another world feels all a bit ‘dark side of the force,’ no? But, counterpoint, I was going to look pretty damn dashing with all this on.
Who knew I was this easy?
Positive vibes stretch to the Shadow Dagger, though. This was a weapon absolutely built to fuck someone up. It was glinty and sharp and all things vicious, and I honestly couldn’t think of any circumstances in which I wanted it anywhere near me. During my time inside, I’d developed a healthy repulsion towards the type of person who ‘carried’, and I didn’t think – regardless of what I was being firmly prompted to do in this ‘new’ life - I was interested in wielding it.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
I left it be for a moment and turned to the book: The Tao of Idleness by The Great Slacker. I hesitated before selecting it. This was intended as some sort of sign, right? Like Moses receiving the Tablets. Even I – lacking any sort of deductive mind - could join the dots that I’d obviously met the actual Great Slacker in one of Eldhaven’s alleys. And this dude was clearly the one fucking with me by notification, right?
Maybe he explained why in his book? I cracked open the weighty tomb, and the pages flickered apart. One line immediately stood out, etched in gold ink:
"The world is full of gifts for those who wait long enough. Life – eventually - gives you loot boxes. The apprentice Slacker should learn to say ‘thank you’ and put on the fucking gear."
Subtle, Mr Slacker. Subtle. I sat up in bed, the sheets falling away, exposing my skinny arse to the elements. I wasn’t sure who had undressed me, but I retained the hope it had been Lia. Never hurts to give the ladies a prequel, if you know what I’m saying. Putting the book down, I stood, legs wobbling but eventually deciding to play ball, and moved to the table with the bowl and splashed some icy water on my face, shivering slightly as I washed the mud and blood away.
When I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror, I paused, taking a moment to really look at myself. You know, all things considered, I’m not really that bad. A bit too tall, obviously - which is why I stoop slightly- thin, but from missing meals, rather than any genetic choice - and with an insane mop of dark hair that gave every impression I’d inserted my finger, permanently, into an electric socket.
Beneath the spiralling scruff, my face looked drawn, pale from days without sunlight (and, you know, being killed) and the night’s drinking had left my blue eyes rather bloodshot. Oh, and the massive fuck-off bruise on my jaw would certainly a talking point for a bit. I wasn’t going to make JLo’s heart beat faster, but neither was anyone going to be too embarrassed to wake up next to me.
All in all, I was solid 6 every day of the week. A 7 with the right lighting and a sympathetic – and appropriately pissed - audience.
Level Up! Congratulations, you have reached Level 3.
Progress Points available: 5
Ability Rank Up: Lazy Aura (Rank 2)
Sleeping really was for the win, eh? Maybe I hadn’t done anything to deserve it, but hey, who was I to turn down a Level-up? I was sure The Great Slacker would approve.
Lazy Aura (Rank 2): Enemies within range are increasingly likely to lose interest in attacking if you do not engage. Additionally, enemies who become disinterested may leave Loot behind as they leave.
More rewards for doing fuck all. If I wasn’t careful, I might actually start enjoying what this Class was putting down.
I was so busy marvelling at my shiny new upgrades that when there was an urgent knock at the door, the sound startled me so much that I slipped on a wet patch, completely failing to balance myself on the table before crashing face-first into the bowl of water. Right on my already sensitive jaw. Smooooooooooth.
"’Rogue’?" Lia’s voice filtered through the wooden door, laced with what I was coming to recognise as her trademark combination of annoyance and impatience. "You awake in there?"
Not quite ready to face her (especially not with all the goods out and proud), I pulled my new gear out of whatever mental inventory space it existed in, for it to immediately settle around me. The moment the leather touched my skin, I felt the warmth of all those new stats immediately kick in. Honestly, that was a bit freaky. It wasn’t a million miles from that rush of exhilaration I had when Borrowed Strength kicked in during our Dungeon run.
"Uh, yeah. Gimme a sec!" I called, hastily trying to sort myself out. Letting her feast her eyes on all my naked glory when I was passed out was one thing. But it would be awks for a repeat show when I was fully awake. Yeah. I can hear how that sounds. I’m entirely open to therapy.
Now decent, I ran a quick sense check in the mirror. The difference was…well, startling. I actually looked like a Rogue now. The dark material clung to me perfectly, emphasising just enough muscle definition to pass as someone who had spent years honing his body instead of sitting around doing fuck-all. The hood hung over my face perfectly, casting half of it in shadow like a guy who’d just walked out of a successful Assassin’s Creed audition.
Then, just before crossing to the door, I frowned at the sheath that had appeared on my waist. With a flourish, I took the dagger out and held it before my face. "Nope. Not you," I said after a moment, throwing it next to the bowl.
Another knock, far more impatient this time. "’Rogue’, open up before I break this door down. We’ve got places to go."
That sounded interesting . . . I yanked the door open just as Lia was raising her leg for another kick. I suspect this one might have been pretty detrimental for the door’s ongoing wooden integrity. She put her foot down slowly, eyes apparently judging me for a crime I’m not wholly sure I had committed—yet. "Well, look at you. Isn’t someone looking all spiffy this morning?"
"Yeah, well," I shrugged, "turns out unconsciousness is a great opportunity for a wardrobe change."
“You up for shenanigans?”
I wasn’t. Not in the slightest. But, look, she’s hot, and I have absolutely no history of not making a fool of myself in such circumstances. "Of course. Totally ready. Bring it on. What’s new on our agenda, boss?"
"Yeah, don’t call me that.”
“Noted. So, what’s next on the agenda, buttercup?”
“‘Boss’ works, actually. So, I’ve been offered a contract. A big one. We’re talking serious gold. But… there’s a catch."
"Of course there is.”
Lia’s eyes darkened slightly, her usual cool exterior cracking just for a second. "You’ve obviously heard the rumours about my father, right? Kal said that’s what your disagreement last night was about?” I nodded non-committally, making sure the light caught my bruise in just the right way so she was reminded how very brave I was in defending her honour. I’m not sure I pulled it off. “There’s a sizeable debt that needs paying, and if I don’t find the money fast, things are going to get . . . difficult."
"Difficult as in breaking bones and kneecaps, or more like they’ll send him on a ‘trip to the farm’?"
"Both, probably," Lia said flatly. "Look, this job’s going dangerous. But if I can pull it off, it’ll cover his debt and then some. I’d do it on my own, but it’s apparently locked into being a two-person deal."
Quest Received: The Gambler’s Debt
Objective: Help Lia pay off her father’s debt by completing an, as of yet, high-stakes mission.
Rewards: 1000 XP, 500 Gold, repaired Reputation with Lia Jorgensdottir.
Failure (or Refusal): Lia’s father will be sleeping with the fishes. And then she will never, ever fuck you.
"Well," I said slowly, the true enormity of the stakes becoming clear with that last line, "Guess we better get to it, then."