It took me an hour to find four baseball-sized stones and two tree branches of just the right size. The first branch was long, slender, and came to a point, and the game recognized it as a -1 spear. The second branch was shorter—narrow on one end and thick on the other—and the game recognized it as a -1 club.
Thus armed, I climbed the south wall of Lessel’s house and pushed aside one of the heavy thatch bundles that formed the roof. Below me, the giant rat didn’t notice my intrusion. Like a proper monster in a fantasy game, it continued battering the front door.
Locking my legs against the wall, I leaned back and hurled the first of my stones. I missed the rat, which stopped striking the door and glared up at me. My next two stones both hit, and the rat’s health dropped by about a fifth.
The rat leapt onto the kitchen table, and then onto the cupboard. It launched itself upward but couldn’t reach me. I struck its face with a stone, and I smiled as it fell snarling to the floor.
“Better luck next time.”
As if it understood me, the rat snarled. It climbed up the cupboard and jumped again, opening its mouth to reveal rows of sharp, hooked teeth. But before it could close its jaws, I drove my makeshift spear into its mouth, deep into its throat. The look in its eyes transformed from hatred to shock, and it fell gagging to the floor.
“Gotcha,” I said.
Club in hand, I leapt from my perch and landed on the choking rat. The impact took my health down by two points, but it was worth it. The monster’s health plummeted to less than half of its maximum.
I struck the beast as hard as I could, and it was too busy trying to dislodge the spear from its throat to defend itself. After a second strike, my club snapped in half. The rat’s health had fallen to a third, so I started punching. What would El Gato say?
“No matter how fierce the adversary…” I quoted.
I hit the rat just above the right eye. Blood spurted from the wound—its health was falling fast.
“No matter how overwhelming the odds…”
I punched and kicked until my stamina fell to zero, and then I fell to my knees, unable to walk or raise my arms. The rat was in worse shape, though, and after moments of gasping, the health bar vanished. +600 XP!
“If you’ve got cunning and courage, there’s always a way.”
Even though its health had fallen to zero, I watched the giant rat intently. When I was certain that it wasn’t playing dead, a sense of relief washed over me. For the first time, I started to think I might stand a chance of beating this horrible game.
When my stamina returned, I retrieved Lessel’s lantern and returned to the cellar. The room beyond the secret door didn’t appear to have anything worth hiding except the mostly eaten corpse. Only half of the man’s face remained and its expression was one of crushed hope. He’d come close to recovering the recipe book, but not close enough. Sorry, friend.
Stealing from the living is a crime in fantasy games, but looting corpses is always acceptable. In a computer game, a player only needs to stand over a body and press a key, and then its possessions become available for taking. But when I stood over the adventurer’s body and thought of different commands, nothing happened.
“Can’t make anything easy, can you, Konrad?”
Gritting my teeth, I knelt and turned the dead adventurer’s face to the side. Then I searched the body carefully, proceeding from head to foot. The adventurer had no weapons or armor, but there was a silver chain around his neck and 17 copper in his pockets. A leather pack lay beneath the body, and its only content was a book with engraved pictures of herbs on the cover—the book of alchemical recipes. This quest was really going to end.
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I removed the book from the pack and tried to read it, but I couldn’t recognize any of the characters. After wiping the blood off my fingers, I leafed through the book and saw hand-drawn pictures of beakers, flasks, and oddly shaped plants. But none of the words made any sense.
In fantasy games, alchemy is a crucial skill because it allows adventurers to brew their own potions. Right now, it was a secondary concern. The important thing was that my active quest had changed from RETRIEVE RECIPE BOOK FROM LESSEL’S HOUSE to RETURN RECIPE BOOK TO THE ENCLAVE.
I placed the book into my new leather pack and slung it over my shoulder. I couldn’t wait to see Prezon.
⚔
I returned to the Enclave and found Prezon still making checkmarks in her ledger. I set the alchemy book on her desk and cleared my throat. She set down her quill and smiled as she paged through the book's pages.
“Lessel’s dead,” I said. “One of his experiments turned a rat into a giant beast, and it killed Lessel and the first person you sent. Thanks to my courage and cunning, I didn't have a problem at all.”
"Very impressive." Prezon pursed her lips and withdrew coins from a wallet. “Thank you for your assistance.”
A message appeared: QUEST COMPLETED - RETURN RECIPE BOOK TO THE ENCLAVE. +700 XP! As the message faded, a gold plus sign shimmered in the upper-right. I took a deep breath. I'd reached Level 2. Finally.
I smiled as I took Prezon's payment. Ten silver.
“How many copper coins equal a silver?” I asked.
“Ten copper to a silver, five silver to a gold.”
I leaned closer to her. "Well, now that I have some coin, I don't suppose you're free for lunch?"
"I'm busy at the moment. Maybe some other time."
I nodded. Her response wasn't a yes, but it was far from a hard no. I decided to continue hoping.
“Another question," I said. "Lessel was wearing a yellow robe, and you’re wearing orange. The other wizards are wearing green, red, and blue. What does a robe’s color signify? Is it related to the types of spells you cast?”
“No, a robe’s color tells you the wearer's experience. New spellcasters wear red, then orange, yellow, green, and blue. Only the kingdom’s most senior wizard, Kazerath, wears violet.”
“Wizards don't wear white or black?”
“Not in the Enclave. White robes are worn by followers of Theris and black robes are worn by followers of Dhok’kor. If you see someone wearing a black robe, prepare to kill them or run.”
“Followers of Dhok’kor are necromancers?”
Prezon nodded gravely. “Followers of Dhok’kor are the enemies of all that breathe.”
“Are there any necromancers you need slain?”
“No, the King’s Guard has done a fine job of stamping out necromancy in the kingdom. But there are owlbears in the Northern Forest who attack travelers, and our diviners will pay handsomely for each pair of owlbear eyes you can bring us.”
I’d encountered owlbears in other games. Large and ferocious, with the head of an owl and the body of a full-sized bear. But not particularly smart.
“There are also packs of wolves roaming in the south,” she continued. “Our alchemists will pay for their fangs, which they use to make potions of heroism.”
“Owlbears to the north, wolves to the south. Anything else?”
“That’s all we have right now. Of course, if you find anything interesting, let us know.”
“One last question," I said. "I’d like to learn alchemy, but I couldn’t read any of the pages in Lessel’s book.”
“We have alchemists who can train you, but we prefer not to deal with the godless. Is there a reason you haven’t chosen a deity to worship?”
“How do I choose a deity?”
“Go to the Cathedral of the Gods and find the statue of the god or goddess you wish to follow. Then kneel and profess your devotion.”
“What deity do you recommend?”
Prezon’s eyes widened. “Zeknir, of course! He’s the god of knowledge. Followers of Zeknir can harness the hidden forces of the physical world, from fireballs to hurricanes. Everyone in the Enclave follows Zeknir.”
“Thanks again.”
As I left the Enclave, I focused my attention on the shimmering plus sign. My character sheet popped up and said I was a Level 2 Godless with 12 health points instead of 6. I was happy to rise a level, but I still didn’t have any weapons, skills, abilities, or affiliations.