Your Ally, Ranger Jake, is not in your current Quest Party.
Would you like to invite him to join you?
Yes/No
Again, I select Yes. The prompt goes away, leaving me to return to scowling at my reflection. Except, probably scowling is incorrect. I’m probably pouting or sulking at it. And since I can at least now remind myself that at some point I’ll either get magic or, equally satisfying, die trying, the thing that’s constricting my confidence is my big dumb sword. It’s just so boring. I mean, sure, it’s big enough to make me look like I’m really strong, but that’s not my style. Like, I’m not some fucking 5’7 polo-wearing douche bag driving a compensatory pick-up truck, without a spot on it because he doesn’t even use it. That’s not me at all. I like utility. And special properties. I stop my derailing train of thought and remind myself I’m only level one, and that this is natural.
Besides, I bet everyone starts off with lame ass gear.
From outside the office, I hear Bane’s nails skitter on the hardwood floor. Jake’s footsteps too, followed by the words, “Nice choice on the Moon Quest!” Then he is standing in my office doorway. “Now, check out my new shit!” He struts inside, swinging his arms wide to do a runway twirl. “How bad ass am I?”
Glaring at him as he swoons over his reflection, I find it difficult to look away from the weird eyes that he inherited from his Ascendant Race, the Aviandel. They blink horizontally for fuck’s sake. A subtle verbal nod from Jake reminds me staring is rude, unless it’s directed at a requested area, such as clothing. His Ranger’s Cloak looks like any tropey cloak at a first glance, but now I’m noticing a sort of green velvet with, of all things, a dollar sign pattern. His quiver fucking glows, and so does his goddamn bow. He shows me the bow up close. And, of course, there's some elegant looking unknown script engraved along the wood. I’m pretty sure it’s fucking humming.
I hate it here.
I grit my teeth. “Looks good.”
“No, you gotta check the stats!”
“I gotta…” his sad bird eyes force me to silence. There’s no way out of it. I can’t be rude, and I’m a terrible liar so he’ll know if I lie about inspecting his items, which would probably be worse. I drop my head back in exasperation. “Fine.”
Begrudgingly I navigate to his Inventorium. It shows a side by side display. A classic character view on one side and a list of his equipped items on the other. I read the list.
Item Description
Item Properties
Accurate Bow of Experience Bestowal:
You get the sense that this masterfully crafted bow rarely misses, and might just be one of the luckiest items an individual could receive.
Durability: 100/100
Item Class: Rare
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Level Req: 01
Damage: 19-30
Special properties:
+08 Dexterity+13% Chance to Crit+10 EXP per kill
Quiver of Infinite Printed Versatility:
Capable of printing an infinite amount of arrows from its pocket dimension. Additionally, has a chance to produce special arrows at any given time.
Durability: 100/100
Item Class: Epic
Level Req: 01
Special Properties:
5% Chance Bursting Arrow5% Chance Entangling Arrow5% Chance Weakening Arrow5% Chance Splitting Arrow
Ranger’s Cloak of Greed
Said to be worn by the most generous ranger in all of myth. Which one, however, is largely debated.
Durability: 100/100
Item Class: Magical
Level Req: 01
Special Properties:
+5 EXP per kill+10% Magic Item Drop+10% Gold Find
I can’t do anything but scowl. And fume, but fuming is only natural. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Jake tries to console me by saying he’s sure I got some cool stuff too, but he never actually finishes the attempted consolation for three-quarters of the way through, he apparently sees my own Inventory, and bursts out laughing. “Big Sword? That’s it?! A Big Sword. Damn. That’s rough. But hey, I’m sure my Lucky Core Belief is just so I can keep up with you. I mean, you did get that Undying thing? That’s gotta be pretty overpowered, right?”
I scratch my head and search my memory banks. Nothing comes up though.
Jake rolls his eyes. “You never read over your Core Belief, did you?”
“I will later. Just let me finish my Character Profile! All I have left is my Companion, and I’m actually kind of excited about that.”
Jake’s demeanor changes in an instant. He’s standing all shy and timid. “Right. You do that. I’m gonna go get another edible or something, be back in a minute.”
Strange. I’ve never seen him scurry that fast before. Whatever.
I see the Doomsday Clock on my EverScreen. 11: 52. Frenetically I pull my Character Profile back up and scroll down past the Quests section to find the final thing I’ve got left to finish. Adopting my Companion. I’ve purposely saved this one for last.
Companion:
All humans who have survived the Apocalypse Update are allowed a beast guide. Should you already have a pet, said pet will be modified to fit this role. If there is one pet for a household consisting of more than one person, the pet will become the beast guide for whoever it has the strongest affinity toward. Unlike normal pets, pet Companions adopt their partners just as much as their partners adopt them.
Note: If you do not already have a pet, or a pet you thought was yours chooses another person in the household, then you will be allowed to select your beast guide from our preselected base pets.
I rush out of my office. I’m about to call Bane to my side, excited that my little old man puppy will finally be able to speak to me, a suspicion I’ve had for a while is confirmed.
Jake and Bane are in what’s technically our dining room, just, without the dining room table. They’re talking to each other in what sounds like a language of dog grumbles. Not just talking though. They’re communicating.
“Fuck,” I curse. “Did Bane adopt—”
Your pet has chosen to serve as Companion to Ranger Jake!
I hate it here.