Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon) (37 page)

I had leveled to 76 on the tenth pack, and the experience bar had crawled to 14% since then. Toughness and Focus had also increased by 1% and 2%, respectively. I allocated the free talent point to the last connecting skill before Silence, and used stat points in the usual way—by dumping them into HP. You could never have enough, after all.

The two road sentries got a better grip on their pikes and looked at me with some concern. But then, recognizing me as the mage who'd passed their way a few hours ago, they lowered their weapons and stood aside, letting me through. Neyl gave me seven gold coins, wincing at the smell and muttering something about crazy necromancers under his breath. He recommended to dump all the stuff that fell from the pigs into the pit by the side of the road, and I followed his advice five minutes later.

As I reached the inn, I went upstairs quickly so as to not expose the locals to the stench that came from my armor. I entered my room and went right into the shower without taking off the armor, and opened the faucets fully. The armor would have cleaned itself by the morning, and the room was well-ventilated, but I hated the thought of leaving my equipment in such a horrendous state.

The tails I handed in didn't bring in much experience—the bar moved to 21%.
Looks like I'll have to stay here for a long while,
was my final thought before I drifted to sleep.

***

The remnants of stone walls formed a trapezoid around the ancient castle. There were four destroyed towers in the corners—like ever-vigilant sentries, they eyed the surrounding area with the dark pits of their embrasures. I could see the ruins of the structures that lay inside the perimeter and the sinister remains of the castle keep. The area around what once used to be a castle was peppered with large rock, with groups of zombies and skeletons maneuvering in between.

Around two weeks and a half had passed since my arrival to Urcahnta. I had managed to waste so many pigs, wolves and bears in the surrounding area that animal rights activists would definitely have placed a bounty on my head if it were happening IRL. Half a month of endless farming, ten to fifteen hours a day, had made me so weary that one sight of the local fauna made me ready to retch. However, level 82, fully studied Silence, and 43% Toughness were totally worth it.

I no longer had to recollect Cheney to invoke this fury—simply entering combat sufficed. Rage no longer blinded me—I never lost touch with reality. Fury and hatred seemed to have become inverted in some way, and now I could only sense them remotely. Pain would only come after the loss of half my XP, so I was quite content with myself.

Today I decided to sneak into the ruins and take a good look around. The levels of the local fiends (79-80) and the packs of three or four skeletons or zombies didn't scare me at all. On the contrary, it was much easier to use the shield for blocking the strike of a former humanoid than to parry a side blow of a bear's paw or the attack of a wolf clinging to the very ground.

Earth Shackles bound a tall skeleton with a two-handed sword, and the bonehead running my way with a club was met by an Ice Blade. Then I cast Silence on the third skeleton, whose hands became surrounded by dark flashes indicating that it was preparing to cast a spell. I used my shield to parry the strike of an ironclad club, sending my first opponent to be reborn again with two strikes, and then cast Ice Blade once again, getting the dead sorcerer who had swung a club at me right in the head—the stupid mob was deprived of his capacity to cast spells for ten seconds and decided to try his luck in a melee attack, of all things. The blade's Frost kicked in, and it took just one more blow to make the hapless lich's bones fall to the ground with an icy clangor. The enormous skeleton's dash stunned me for a second and a half, and I failed to parry a powerful strike with the two-handed sword that knocked off almost a quarter of my HP. Before the warrior skeleton swung again, I managed to land two blows, then crouched, with the second blow swinging over my head, and struck the warrior in the exposed side. There was a cracking sound—I'd knocked two ribs from his ribcage. Before he managed to react, I chopped off his head with my final blow. I calmly waited for the pinkish HP bar to refill and bent over the bones scattered underneath my feet.

Skeletons are no fat cats for sure,
I grunted. Thirty three copper coins, three quest skulls, a rusty ax and a few pieces of woolen fabric—not what I'd call a good haul! You'd need to kill about a hundred mobs hanging around the area to earn a single gold coin. Oh, and Neyl ran out of money on the third day. The magistrate had allocated only fifty gold coins of bounty money, of which nifeteen had been claimed by local hunters.

The captain took a long and thoughtful look at me as I just returned to the village and told me that a necromancer he knew in Nittal was looking for an assistant, and that if there was anyone he could think of recommending, it was yours truly.

I thanked him for caring so deeply about my career and that I would think about it, and took his last gold coin. Good thing I was still getting experience for these quests, or I would have needed those skulls about as much as an oyster needed a parasol.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the ancient castle ruins in somber crimson and wine red hues. I looked toward the fallen gate. Another three hundred yards or some fifteen packs of the undead were blocking the direct way through with their aggro zones. And there were more in the courtyard.
All right, no use tarrying—I need to take a look at the dungeon today.
I chose the next group of fiends as my target and cast Shackles on the far skeleton armed with a sword and shield…

All that remained from the keep was a story and a half. The hexagonal building, once formidable, looked squalid and dilapidated, and even the narrow slits in the walls could hardly scare anyone now. It only took me an hour and a half to get there—most of the time was spent on entering the gate of the castle and wiping out most of the mobs roaming the courtyard. I didn't get much richer—all I got was the copper equivalent of eight silver coins and an unusual helmet for level 71, as well as skulls and pieces of woolen fabric that filled my bag.

The entrance to the main part of the castle doubled as the entrance to a level 75-80 instance designed for a group of three to five. It was at the end of a fifteen-foot passageway, some sections of which had crumbled down. Another week of farming and I should be able to take a look inside and say hello to whoever lived in the castle.

Something glittered on the ground—some ten yards away from the keep's wall, pockmarked by centuries. I came closer and saw a rusty dagger on a gray stone.
This is weird—how did a level 190 dagger end up here?
As the thought occurred to me, I heard a horrendous grating noise. I noticed a blurred movement to the right, upon a protruding part of the wall, and turned instantly, grabbing the shield with my left hand. A powerful blow threw me back onto the cobblestones, and an agonizing pain seared my body—it felt like being caught in a mangle.

Gh'khorsh the Stone Gargoyle hits you for 4742 damage.

Attention! You are stunned!

As I was falling, I cast a teleport spell to a point some twenty yards to the side, shaking off the stun and evading the blow of a level 232 stone gargoyle. The six-and-a-half-foot bulk looked like an inflated bodybuilder with membranous wings. It landed at the very spot I'd just left with a crash. The appalling simian snout with huge fangs made a sharp turn toward me, its yellow eyes flashing. The muscled and taloned paws flexed. The gargoyle was preparing for another leap.

   It took a Herculean effort, but I managed to rise again and meet the monster's leap standing, holding my shield in front of me...

Gh'khorsh the Stone Gargoyle hits you for 288 damage. You die.

***

Attention! Your character's death has resulted in the loss of 20% of your levels. Your current level is 65.

Attention! Your character's death has resulted in the loss of 51 stat points. Your current stats are distributed as follows: Agility—10, Strength—71, Constitution—72, Intellect—72, Spirit—72, Vigor—60.

Shit! Shit! Shit!
I was sitting at the graveyard near Urcahnta and looking at the moon hanging in the darkened skies, my back to a gravestone. Seventeen levels gone just like that! The damned gargoyle had completely nixed all the progress made over the last three weeks—my current level was even lower than right after Shaartakh's demise. Neyl was telling the truth—those hunters didn't just disappear (I'd been under the impression the NPCs were falling prey to the undead wreaking havoc). As it turned out, a named mob was to blame.

Players would consider themselves very lucky to encounter such mobs in the game due to guaranteed good loot. A mob that was about 1.5 times stronger than the regular sort would give the lucky victor a rare item in every case. The fact that its level would often be two or three times higher than that of the zone would normally be fairly inconsequential—you could call a fellow clanmate of a higher level, or several friends, and pocket the trophy. Alternatively, you could sell the info to someone you trusted.

This particular encounter, however, made me want to howl at the moon. It was hard not to get discouraged in this situation… the more self-pity I felt, the more I hated myself. Finally, hatred triumphed over pity, and an outburst of fury destroyed my melancholy completely. "Screw all of you!" I hissed, rising. Seventeen levels lost—so what! I got to keep all my talents, and fifty seven points of stats were small fry considering the gains from the equipment. I'd be able to equip my armor and sword again. As for the cloak, the earring, and the ring—I could put them back on once at level 70, so no great loss there. However, I still needed to think of a way to retrieve aforementioned armor.

The first thing that came to mind was to ask the legionnaires for help, but how would that reflect on me? And how would I put it to them? "Why don't you guys snuff the gargoyle with those mighty high levels of yours, and poor little me will stand and watch? Oh, and I also need to get that armor off my corpse." Yeah, right. Ludicrous. I had to get the armor myself, and I knew how to do it. All I needed was to pop into my room and grab two vials of Medium Invisibility Potions.

There was a huge pile of boulders some thirty feet away from my corpse. Skeleton packs didn't venture that far—the gargoyle's roost was close nearby. It was pretty simple—I would use the first potion to get to the pile and wait out the five-minute cooldown. Then I'd cast Shackles on the nearest pack and Silence the sorcerer, if they had one, just to play it safe. Then I'd grab my stuff, pop the second bottle, and split.

It would still probably be a good idea to tell the legionnaires about the gargoyle—it wasn't like they would rush out to the ruins and start exploring right away. But I had to go either way, otherwise I wouldn't manage to sleep at all—why would I want that kind of anxiety? I shouldn't draw any aggro on my way to the ruins—that much had been established.

As usual, my mood lightened once a decision was made. What was a month or two of delay when you had eternity at your disposal?

"Stone gargoyle, eh?" Neyl scratched the back of his head, deep in thought. I was fortunate—the captain wasn't asleep, so I didn't need to wait for someone to wake him.

"Yup. Sitting on a protruding part on the wall of the keep, right above the entrance. I won't be able to handle it alone, so I thought I might tell you about it."

"But we've been there, haven't we?" the demon frowned. "Although those creatures are great at disguising themselves—you can't tell one from a rock. We may have failed to notice it."

"He's no fool to attack a dozen soldiers, is he?" I don't know why I had to specify the gargoyle's gender or why that would even be important—Hart only knew how those beasts were classified! And I definitely shouldn't mention the aggro radius. Neyl's was... somewhat different from mine, given that his level was 230, and mine, 82... formerly, that is. Little wonder that the legionnaires hadn't noticed anything.

"Thanks, Krian. We'll definitely check it out today and see what kind of beast hides there." Neyl looked toward the ruins somberly. "Will you come with us?"

"I'll definitely join if I manage to get there in time," I nodded. Where else would I be? Hell, I should get some popcorn as well, and a front-row seat to the execution of the brute that had sent me to be reborn.

"It's agreed, then." The demon shook my hand. "Come by midday—that's when we set off."

It took me about an hour to get to the ruins. I could have been quicker, but I was trying to move as stealthily as I could, keeping to the very center of the path lest I waded into the aggro range of some wild beast, god forbid.

I only realized how stupid it was to travel through the forest by night once I got deep enough. The forest had a life of its own. The light of the moon barely got through the gloomy canopy of the trees that stood to either side of the road. Silence was often broken by mysterious sounds that would make anyone in their right mind want to run as far and as fast as they could.

For a moment I thought about going back and retrieving my equipment later, after dawn, but I instantly suppressed it. The decision had been made, and I wasn't about to go back on it.