Zone: Central Dewalt
Location: Baccana Clearing
Lore: A Chuurik word, 'baccana' is believed to reference the beasts certain tribes train to fight alongside them in their raiding parties. This clearing was once the scene of a massive battle between two such tribes, long forgotten but for the bleached bones half-buried in the dirt. Whether one or both tribes employed the domesticated boars as baccana is unknown, but at some point in the battle the untested beasts turned on their masters. Among the Chuurik, there was no winner that day, no winner but the hardy Battleswine that survived to regain their freedom. Their hides still embedded with the broken weapons of their masters, the Battleswine have made this clearing their home, and their great numbers have even managed to keep their natural predators temporarily at bay.
Difficulty: Novice+
Restrictions: +25% Experience Debt
His chest heaving, Vannin yanked his simple spear free from the slain Battleswine and took a step back. All across the wooded clearing, the blades of broken weapons glistened weakly in the afternoon light, peeking out beneath the hides of the fallen mobs he had yet to search – a particularly aggressive breed of boar with an above average armor rating and a hide embedded with valuable weapon remnants that didn’t require a specific skill to harvest. The extra loot wasn’t the main reason he had spent the last few weeks farming these pigs, but it didn’t hurt either.
No, the main reason he made the daily trek to Baccana Clearing was out of a desperate desire to obtain an item so seemingly rare that weeks of fighting had shown no evidence of its existence, and Vannin was beginning to lose hope. The numbness infecting his virtual body was beginning to spread to his real mind, and it wouldn't be long before he'd be unable to manufacture any more reason to pull himself out of bed every morning.
Chewing on a piece of [Stale Bread] to stave off his Hunger, he rubbed a hand down his [Ragged Leather Cuirass], a number of tears and snags in the leather catching on his rough hands as they passed. He hadn't repaired his gear but once since starting this quest, and he wondered how he must look after weeks of travel and fighting, weeks with no real break aside from the time it took sleep or scarf down the cheapest food he could buy to keep his Weariness at bay.
Not that there was much to look at.
Of the five different ‘Races of Fortune’ the game could have chosen to start him as, Vannin wasn’t sure if he was lucky or unlucky that it had settled on Heem. Human, for all intents and purposes. On the one hand, it was a body he felt comfortable in, a body that belonged to him. He couldn’t imagine walking around as a Minos, sporting a pair of curved bovine horns and a thick coat of matted fur. Or even as a Puck, a pint-sized impish creature with a talent for crafting various mechanical bobbles.
On the other hand, Vannin was about as average-looking as they come. Ruffled brown hair, searching brown eyes, pale skin, and a narrow frame did a poor job of helping him stand out among the sea of players who had designed their avatars to make an impression. Still, he’d yet to find anyone – either pc or npc – that looked quite like he did, so he supposed he could at least settle for being ‘uniquely nondescript’.
He sighed, eyeing what had to be nearly two dozen bodies scattered among the yellow and blue wildflowers and vibrant grasses carpeting the floor of the clearing. Eight seconds per mob to complete the harvest process. Another five or six to transfer the loot to his inventory. Add a few more for traveling from one body to the next…
Constant disappointment had turned looting into his least favorite activity.
Vannin retrieved a small brown envelope from one of his two belt pouches. Had this been the real world, the well-read letter within would be creased and oily from handling, its ink smudged, its corners blunted. Yet here in Teravitum, its durability still hovered above half, and it otherwise appeared none the worse for wear.
Greetings Esteemed Adventurer!
The Edacity Guild has issued an open invitation to anyone interested in experiencing the greatest pleasures Teravitum has to offer! Chasing pleasure is its own reward, and none know the race better than the leaders of one of the number one guilds in world. Every six months, we allow adventurers of any race, skill, and level to apply for new membership, and that biannual enrollment time is finally here.
Though we are seeking full- and partial-dive players in particular, the ability to taste and smell and feel the world around you are not what makes you valuable, but that you are willing to go out and make those sensations possible for yourself and for others! Rare materials and ingredients are required when concocting unique, intense experiences, and we would be nowhere without those with the patience and know-how necessary to retrieve these items. Find what we seek, and you prove yourself worthy of joining our illustrious guild!
Quest – Seeking Admission into Edacity!
Type – Gather
Requested Item – [Swine’s Esse]
Restrictions – Drop only
Reward – Special (To be fulfilled by a qualified Edacity member)
Expiration - At noon on Vinson, 4th of the Blooming, 52 PSC
The type of member we are looking for will be able to locate the item we seek with nothing more than this quest description to go on. Chase your dream, so that we all might prosper!
Vannin folded the letter and returned it to the pouch on his belt. The ability to taste and smell and feel. How often had he sat and watched other adventurers enjoying a [Roasted Quail] at Haggerdy’s, wishing he could take part in their groans of pleasure as their teeth scraped hunks of greasy meat from the bone? How often was he taken by surprise when a passerby squealed in delight as the door to a local bakery swung open and released a fragrant puff of freshly baked [Banana Bread]? He often had his eyes lingered too long when a casual touch between acquaintances inspired shy smiles and rush of color to the cheeks?
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Were his senses dead, or could they just be asleep? Maybe they just needed a shock to rouse them. Edacity – with their expertise in crafting high-level food and alcohol and unguents – should be able to give him a definitive answer to that question.
But would he like that answer?
“You aren’t looking so good,” said a small voice one might expect to find on a talking mouse. “This looks like a good time for a break, Master.”
A prismatic ball of light no bigger than his fist zipped around his head in a tight spiral. Vannin waved it away. “They barely ever hit me, D. I should have plenty of health left. And stop calling me Master.”
"These creatures aren't weak. In your current state, one or two good hits would be enough to send you right back to Eternity's Solace." The glowing orb – a daimon designed to help him interact with the more gamey aspects of the world in a less immersion breaking manner – flitted rapidly about before stopping to hover a few inches over the corpse of Vannin’s most recent kill. “You’ve been in Masochist Stance ever since our arrival. Most of your wounds are entirely self-inflicted. Couldn’t you feel them?”
“I never feel them,” he grumbled.
According to the game notes, Masochist Stance increased a player’s damage and speed while active, but each successful attack by the player returned a portion of the damage onto themselves. It wasn’t much, and was completely negated during critical hits or the successful targeting of weak points, but he supposed it was the other drawback that would turn most new players away from investing in the perk. All the pain experienced by a player in Masochist Stance is magnified proportional to the damage or wound type received.
Of course, this secondary effect was only detrimental to a player capable of feeling pain...
Vannin swiped two fingers down his right forearm. A series of translucent bars rose from his skin, each a different color and each representing one of three fluctuating stats. From top to bottom: a forest green bar sat at 34%, a gray bar was completely filled but sported a harsh red line directly through its heart, and a light-yellow bar ticked steadily back toward full, its regeneration bolstered by his current lack of movement. Health, Mana, and Stamina, respectively, and at the bottom, a tiny decorative silver triangle.
He frowned. D was right. He knew these creatures’ attack patterns like the back of his digital hand, but despite being able to take most of them out before they even had a chance to retaliate, his health looked like they’d been getting in lucky hits all morning.
“I’m not switching it off. Not yet. Masochist Stance is making this whole process bearable. I’m starting to forget there was once a time I wasn’t farming these stupid pigs. And the faster I can kill them, the faster I can find what I’m looking for and be done with this place.”
He squinted down at the corpse, his focus signaling the game to open the fallen critter’s loot list. A translucent gray window appeared in the air, and four familiar empty boxes greeted him. Vannin made a face. “I’m starting to think [Swine’s Esse] isn’t even on their loot table.”
The orb dimmed slightly, then brightened. “I don’t know, Master. Information received directly from the Paper Caravan Society is generally pretty trustworthy. I mean, it makes sense that it’s so hard to find. Not every pig is going to be an ideal representation of ultimate pigness.”
With a pained grin, Vannin scratched the back of his head. Annoying as it was, the little daimon had a point, but he always found it comical how his companion would twist and manipulate its responses to ensure it wasn’t speaking about anything in ‘video game’ terms. It could understand them just fine, but something in its programming always translated it back into a more setting and lore appropriate message. A loot table might be little more than a list of potential treasures found on a monster’s corpse, but the daimon didn’t see it that way. To it, a [Swine’s Esse] was the physical manifestation of what it meant to be a pig, and that could only be received from the rarest, most piggy of pigs. Random numbers and luck played no part in its logic.
“Then again, you do have to actually search them in order to find one, Master.”
“Please,” he groaned, “For the thousandth time, just call me Van.”
The orb bounced up and down in agreement. “Of course, Master.”
He fished around in an unadorned burlap sack tied to his belt, trying to find the last of three health potions he had brought along for the day’s farming. He downed it reluctantly. Each spent potion was money he had already allocated for something else. Something even more important than keeping him alive out here.
He frowned with the flask still on his lips. No taste. No sense of rejuvenation. He barely even felt it slide down his throat. He raised his forearm to eye-level. The forest green Health bar flashed, its value immediately climbing back up to 72%.
The glowing orb flitted over to the next fallen Battleswine. “Let’s check this one! It’s more piggish than that last one you searched. This one has to have a [Swine’s Esse]!”
Vannin couldn’t help but smile. It might be nothing more than a simple chat-based AI, but his little daimon kept his spirits up when nothing else could. Still, two weeks of seemingly pointless farming was beginning to wear on him, and he’d lost count of how many he’d killed in search of a single [Swine’s Esse], a rare drop that would finally cross off the fetch quest that was burning a hole in his journal.
And get me one step closer to gaining membership with the Edacity Guild, and possibly putting an end to this pointless existence.
His eyes turned once again to the untouched corpses of Battleswine scattered all over the clearing. He’d never make any real progress if he didn’t actually loot them.
**********
Crouched in the brush, hidden beneath the drooping boughs of sleepy elms and prickled fir, a shadowy figure silently watched as the young warrior moved from corpse to corpse. The figure made no move as he reached out and plucked free the shards of broken swords and ax-blades. The figure waited as the young man, growing increasingly frustrated, closed the mob's empty loot window before trudging on to his next target, Sisyphean in his dedication to the search.
The watcher squinted, activating its Discernment skill to get a feel for the young man's status. A small window opened with the following data:
image [https://i.imgur.com/LfiD3r1.png]
Vannin Garrett
Player (????)
Type - Human
Health - 73%
Mana - Nil
Weariness - ???
Level - ???
A sigh broke the silence. A low-level Discernment skill wasn't very helpful, but at least it verified the target was in range.
The watcher would need to be ready to strike if the opportunity presented itself.