《Turen》 Prologue - Forced Dive Ian looked out through a smudged third story window pane in rapt concentration, his eyes darting back and forth across the empty industrial street below. A ringtone came across his earpiece and he absentmindedly waved a hand over the thin bracelet on his right wrist. A projected image cascaded into his field of view utilizing an advanced contact lens and he noted the appearance of his friend and confidante Alex. ¡°Ian! I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay.¡± His friend was visibly relieved, sitting back heavily into his padded chair. His eyes soon squinted in contemplation. ¡°Where are you? Your transponder is blocked.¡± Ian¡¯s calm, cold voice quietly echoed out into the abandoned warehouse. ¡°In hiding, obviously. I can¡¯t say where. We don¡¯t know where the breach originated.¡± He paused. ¡°What¡¯s the situation on your side?¡± Alex shook his head. ¡°Control is reporting an 89% loss in active cells. We¡¯re not sure how they found us, but they¡¯re steadily finding all of our bases and weeding out our operatives.¡± Ian grimaced from the mental feeling of loss. Every single of those brothers and sisters had been personally vetted by him. The sound of a pipe skidding across the concrete came from across the cavernous room, drawing a practiced reaction. He silently withdrew into the shadows and tried to conform as much of his body into the adjacent I-beam as possible, slowing his heart rate and triggering the cooling function in his suit to hide from their infrared. He whispered to the bracelet he brought up near his lips. ¡°I don¡¯t have much time here. How¡¯s the extraction plan coming?¡± Alex frowned in his field of view and paused before finally shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s not. All of the pockets of resistance in the area have been dismantled and we don¡¯t have anybody nearby. The bridges are covered, the waterways watched at the edges of the island. All the highways are blocked. They even have a squadron of F-42s patrolling the skies overhead and a battle group off shore. You¡¯re on your own.¡± He looked down in shame and then turned his eyes back to the screen with resolution. ¡°I can only recommend the Dive plan.¡± Ian almost groaned in disgust. He hissed back, ¡°Like hell I¡¯ll go into that game! It¡¯s the main culprit behind the apathy running rampant in our society!¡± Alex threw up his hands defensively. ¡°Preachin¡¯ to the choir, pastor. But Ian¡­ things out here are bad. Really bad. We¡¯re going to have to rebuild from scratch. I¡¯ve already got four teams relocating our tech personnel to the arctic research lab and we¡¯re torchin¡¯ this place in twenty.¡± He leaned in and emphasized with his hands, saying, ¡°We can recoup our losses with time, but the one thing we cannot lose is you. You¡¯re our figurehead. Our philosophical leader. If you die, it would destroy any hope our movement has of ever killing this Leviathan of a government that rules over us.¡± Ian cursed to himself and then replied with quiet fervor, ¡°All of you are just as capable.¡± His eyes darted to the side after hearing a muffled set of steps stalking towards him. ¡°In any case, my time is done. I know that you¡¯ll¡­¡± The sound of an old .38 being cocked drew his eyes back towards the projected screen. Alex displayed the gun in his hand and then placed it on the table. Continuing with a tone of exasperation, he said, ¡°I hate to do this to you, old friend, but you¡¯re the most stubborn man I know. Let me make this irrevocably clear: I will unload this into my head if you do not go to Dr. Schneider.¡± Ian gave a frustrated grunt as he flashed out of his hiding spot and covered the mouth of an armored SWAT agent who had just walked near him. Taking out a diamond-edged blade, he plunged it downwards with a flash and punctured the soft tissue of the throat, ravaging the trachea and vocal chords. The subtle tearing of flesh was softly accompanied by the rustle of clothes, but no cry ever left the dying man. A faint gurgle of blood was all that announced the sudden injury. Ripping out the blood-coated steel, Ian ill-temperedly drove it back down with lightning fast precision in three separate and lethal places, silently, and mercifully, ending the man¡¯s life. Pulling it back out, he flung it with force towards another agent who¡¯d just rounded a beam twenty paces away. The dagger accurately pierced the neck area again, causing the man to fall to the ground clutching the blade, terror in his eyes. Crossing the span, Ian retrieved it without fanfare, noting the usual bloody tide. He wiped the blade on his pant¡¯s leg and then slid it back in its holster on his thigh. Grabbing the agent¡¯s legs, he started pulling him across the small section of concrete as quietly as possible. Refocusing on the projected screen, he sighed and then spoke softly, ¡°Fine.¡± Alex visibly relaxed, the tension flowing out of his nervous posture. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said tiredly. ¡°Do you know the way?¡± ¡°Mhmm.¡± Grunting in affirmation, Ian dragged the man back to the edge of the window he¡¯d previously been looking out of and then propped up the dead weight on the wall as he opened it up. Feeling the breeze on his skin, he paused for a moment in realization of what he was about to do. Sighing he grabbed the agent and heaved him upwards and over the windowsill, feeling the weight disappear from his hands and get taken over by gravity. A moment later, a dull thud accompanied by the clatter of metal and a crack of a helmet echoed back up to him, followed by a few low shouts of surprise and anger. ¡°He¡¯s on the third floor!¡± ¡°Third floor, bravo team moving to engage,¡± the squawk of a radio announced. Ian derisively chuckled to himself as he seemingly floated across the room towards another window. Maybe it won¡¯t be so bad to not have to do this every day. Turning his attention back to the open call, he whispered, ¡°I¡¯ll go, you don¡¯t have to worry. Is the lazarus project progressing well, then?¡± ¡°As well as the scientists expected. We¡¯ll need about three years to grow the clone, though, so make yourself comfortable. We have some members who play the virtual reality game, but after your scathingly prophetic words last year before its launch, not many have developed their characters beyond confirming your assessment. They instead opted for the real world.¡± Alex shook his head in frustration. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we won¡¯t be able to offer any assistance with your survival there.¡± The quietly stalking man nodded approvingly. ¡°That¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t need them.¡± Alex appeared even more frustrated at this. ¡°But Ian, it''s a hardcore style world. You get one life. If we upload your mind using Dr. Schneider¡¯s illegal procedure, you could absolutely die there if your character dies.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°The government is sure to have their own already in the game, though! I heard down the pipeline that they already have a high leveled guild named Valorous. What if they get wind of you?¡± ¡°Enough! I¡¯ll be okay, Alex.¡± Ian placed a hand on a catwalk railing and smoothly dropped down to another metal walkway below. Continuing his soft padding across the room towards the target window, he added finally, ¡°But if it¡¯ll make you feel better, have a few that we can spare to begin the game as well. However, do not let them actively seek me out. Open the safe in my office. The code is 72372. There is a guide in there that will prove useful to them. If they follow that, I will be able to find them. I need to go.¡± Alex nodded reluctantly. ¡°Godspeed, Ian. Purge the darkness...¡± ¡°And make way for the light.¡± Ian finished with a warm smile. ¡°See you in a few years, my friend.¡± With another wave of the hand, the communication terminated. Opening up the window once he neared it, Ian paused to listen to the flurry of boots ascending the metal grated staircase, the flashing of barrel flashlights sweeping the corners of the same floor as him. Frowning, he peered back out the window and at the murky black river below. He murmured to himself, ¡°But still¡­ do I really have to go back to that world? After all the efforts I¡¯ve taken to avoid it?¡± Shaking his head, he suddenly leapt gracefully out the window and disappeared with a few ripples of the waters below. *** ¡°Dr. Schneider, I presume?¡± A graying elderly gentleman, thin as a rail, stopped in the alleyway and looked towards the young man who¡¯d just appeared out of the shadows. He snorted slightly and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, saying, ¡°Former doctor. I had my license revoked, my research grant cancelled. I cannot help you with whatever it is that ails you.¡± Ian smiled. ¡°I heard you had a hell of a headache prescription, though. Might I trouble you for an informal checkup?¡± That stopped the doctor in his tracks. He turned ponderously, weariness evident in his wrinkled face. ¡°Young man, I implore you to reconsider. This world needs the vigor and passion of youths like yourself now more than ever.¡± Ian stepped forward and placed a small briefcase on the dirty pavement. His eyes creased in sadness as he looked at the man steadily. His resigned voice rang out,¡°I couldn¡¯t agree with you more, doctor, but I have no other option.¡± Leveling a gaze at the average looking Ian, the doctor shook his head dispiritedly. He stepped closer and popped open the case, noting the bills that were arranged neatly in bound stacks. ¡°Full disclosure? This isn¡¯t a guaranteed procedure.¡± Ian¡¯s sky blue eyes bore into him resolutely. ¡°I understand that.¡± The good doctor threw his hands up in acquiescence to the fact that he couldn¡¯t persuade him further, and then grabbed the briefcase with little ado. ¡°Follow me then.¡± The two passed through a couple of whitewashed hallways and descended down three flights of stairs to be dumped out into an underground lab. In the center was a gurney surrounded by lots of machines and apparati that Ian couldn¡¯t identify. There was an old school EKG, he knew that one, but the rest were all new and, from the looks of their construction, handmade. Motioning towards the gurney as he climbed on, Ian remarked, ¡°Kinda morbid doctor, don¡¯t you think?¡± Schneider shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s it matter to you? You¡¯re abandoning this reality after all.¡± He unceremoniously strapped in Ian with the restraints and added, ¡°If you must know, though, I¡¯m an old man. I can¡¯t lift a brick like you.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Ian chuckled. Dr. Schneider manipulated a few of the machines and attached a headdress to Ian¡¯s head, placed diodes all over. Next, he hooked up an IV and then took a second large needle, gently inserting it into the side of his neck, angled towards the spine. Ian immediately felt all sensation beneath his neck disappear. He could only barely breathe. Mildly panicking, he started to croak out a few desperate words, but the doctor noticed his expression and said soothingly, ¡°You¡¯re fine. Shh, now. It¡¯s necessary to isolate your brain signals. Easier on the resonance machine.¡± Schneider went to stand next to a terrifyingly complex machine and leveled a solemn gaze back at him. ¡°Are you sure I can¡¯t talk you out of this? This is a permanent choice. I have no way to bring people back.¡± Ian cleared his throat with difficulty, lightly shaking a strand of his black hair out of his eyes as he cut his gaze towards the man. ¡°Necessity begets action, good doctor. Today, I am a traveler. But there will come a day that I return. This is my home, and I will see it change.¡± Twitching his head more than nodding, he added with finality, ¡°Do it.¡± The doctor¡¯s hand floated downwards and pressed the button. Ian felt his world fade into darkness, bereft of all feeling and thought. *** A flurry of motion and the sound of hurried feet announced the people before they ever entered the room. Dr. Schneider turned from his cleanup work in bewilderment as a dozen heavily armed agents came flowing through the door like a tide. A man stepped up who was different from the rest. He was clad in an expensive suit with an adaptive armor vest while sporting clean-cut blonde hair and a powerful jawline. His eyes came to rest on the body still attached to the gurney and a streak of wildness started to appear within his gaze. Striding over to the doctor with confident steps, he took the frail man and slammed him against a cabinet. ¡°What did you do!?¡± he growled more than exclaimed. The doctor was terrified. ¡°I-I uploaded him to Turen. Th-that¡¯s what he wanted.¡± The blonde agent groaned and dropped him down. ¡°Do you know who that was?¡± he nearly shouted. ¡°That was Ian Leon Czolgosz. The leader of the Reformed Anarchist Movement responsible for the assassination of one hundred and eighty-three government officials. He¡¯s the one who began it all! And you just uploaded that monster into a gameworld where we have no authority! Fuck!¡± Dr. Schneider¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Holy¡­¡± Glancing back and forth between the agents, he quickly added, ¡°I want my lawyer.¡± The agent started and then chuckled dryly. He smoothed out the doctor¡¯s ruffled lab coat and said reassuringly, ¡°Of course.¡± He then strode over to Ian¡¯s body and pulled the diamond-edged blade from its scabbard. ¡°How many people have you killed with this?¡± he mused quietly before turning and plunging it into the doctor¡¯s chest. The old man crumpled to the ground without a sound. Looking back towards the agents gathered around the room, he demanded, ¡°He was dead when we got here, right?¡± ¡°As a doornail, sir,¡± one SWAT member replied. The blonde agent in charge sighed and then motioned towards Ian¡¯s steadily cooling corpse. ¡°Collect the body and add anything on him into evidence. We can use it for publicity at least until we find him in-game and delete his consciousness permanently.¡± ¡°Agent Gray?¡± another member asked confusedly. Gray tore his gaze away from the doctor and looked back up at them. ¡°This task force doesn¡¯t disband merely because the criminal we¡¯re tracking flees to a digital world.¡± He sighed and then suddenly grinned. ¡°Look on the bright side. We¡¯ll get paid our salaries to play a video game from now on. I¡¯ll take that over the threat of diamond-edged blades in my sleep any day.¡± Laughter swept the room. *** In a digitally built holding space, Ian suddenly woke up and stared around in confusion. A beautiful setup AI materialized in front of him, perfect in every way. A figure to die for, he was sure that many of his peers had drooled over her when she appeared to each of them. Her crystal-like eyes gazed back at him in curiosity and questioned, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m have difficulty confirming your pod status. Are you a player or an AI like myself?¡± Ian cleared the fog from his thoughts and said resolutely, ¡°I¡¯m a player.¡± She smiled in response happily and clapped her hands with enthusiasm. ¡°Great! Well, welcome to Turen. You are player #1,356,876,322. What would you like your username to be?¡± Ian almost threw up right there and then if that were physically possible in this space. The entire world¡¯s population was sitting at around 5 billion after the third world war. Over 25% of the world¡¯s population has escaped to this reality! This included the fact that a full third of the world was still encapsulated in a persistent state of poverty and technological deprivation. Ian replied somewhat squeamishly after a moment, ¡°I would like to delete account #0000000045, security code cSghc@ol211, and acquire its name.¡± She blinked and replied somewhat robotically. ¡°Security code accepted for beta account #45. Name shift confirmed.¡± She came out of her stupor and smiled warmly back at Ian. ¡°Congratulations, the name Anarch is available. Which starting class would you like to choose? There are 12 base classes¡­¡± ¡°I would like to forgo class selection, please,¡± Ian interrupted. ¡°Are you sure? It will be very difficult to have a future in the world of Turen without the aid of starting spells and abilities,¡± the blonde AI cautioned. ¡°I am sure,¡± he promised. The truth was that he¡¯d played the game before. Sure, he had the beta account, but that wasn¡¯t the full story. The reality was that he¡¯d played Turen before in another lifetime. It was ironic that he was now forced back into the game that he¡¯d so desperately avoided. He shook his head to forcefully draw his thoughts away from those unpleasant memories. What he was doing at the moment allowed him to pick up a discovered hidden class from that alternate timeline. He had to go in as a blank slate, because the game wouldn¡¯t override his primary class. It would assign it to the secondary class slot if he didn¡¯t already have one, but he couldn¡¯t allow that to happen. He had a perfect design in mind for his character that would achieve all of his aims. Shaking her head, she moved on. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve given this thought already. Very well, race?¡± A large circle consisting of slowly revolving pedestals with an example race for each appeared in his vision. ¡°Show me the high elves, please.¡± ¡°Certainly.¡± A tall elven that looked exactly like Ian, besides the pointy ears, stepped forward off of his pedestal and regarded the player before him coolly with subtly glowing eyes. ¡°Lithe and graceful, the high elves are the masters of spells and magical abilities.¡± A screen appeared before Ian. [Racial ability: Innervate] [+10% magical skill experience gain] [+5% reputation gain with all factions] [+2 spell accuracy] Ian nodded in satisfaction. It was perfect for what he had planned. He turned to the A.I. ¡°This is the one I want.¡± ¡°Very well. Starting location?¡± A gigantic map of the currently explored and named territories, cities, and geographical landmarks was displayed in front of him. His eyes turned to the upper left hand corner of the map and silently brooded. Padun or Claford? Padun is closer to the Hlaca Plateau, but there is also that follower camp in Claford¡­ Tapping the map with a digitally rendered finger, he pointed. The A.I. nodded in acceptance. ¡°Claford is an icy coastal town that thrives on the northernmost reaches of the Dragon Sea. The closest areas of note are the northern town of Padun to its northwest and the Fallenwood to its immediate southeast. While it is possible to start here, it is recommended that only veteran players begin here due to its geographical¡­ difficulty.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Ian stated firmly. The blonde A.I. smiled happily. ¡°Choice confirmed. Please be advised that the death penalty is 25% of the current level''s total experience and you will also drop one piece of random gear, with better gear taking priority in the drop table. Furthermore, if you die in Turen, you will be forcefully ejected from your pod whereupon you will have to wait 24 hours until you can log in again.¡± Ian snorted mentally, not me...I¡¯ll just bite the dust since I have nowhere to be downloaded. I¡¯ll end up like a bug splattered on a digital windshield. ¡°Hosted PvP encounters like battleground realms feature a suspension of this rule, but all world PvP and PvE will abide by it. Please keep this in mind. Do you acknowledge this risk?¡± ¡°I do.¡± ¡°Then allow me to be the first to welcome you to the world of Turen. Have a pleasant and rewarding game.¡± Ian smirked as he started to dissolve into fiery ash. ¡°Thank you, Duchess.¡± The A.I. gasped in surprise, but didn¡¯t have an opportunity to ask him how he knew her name. Her emerald green eyes twinkled in curiosity as she watched him vanish into motes of light and flame. *** A tunnel of light dumped Ian out onto a summoning circle in the heart of a wintry coastal town. Shops buzzed with activity and the cry of seagulls echoed overhead, drawing his light blue eyes towards the sails that peeked over the rooftops. NPCs manned all the stalls and crowds of other NPCs and players milled around, either selling their hard earned loot or buying items needed for another grind session. Taking in a lungful of cold, salty air, Ian breathed out with mixed emotions. He was here once more. For better or for worse, he had to play, to fight, to survive in this virtual world. Until the day came that Alex could get him out, he would do just that. Thinking of the government sponsored guild Valorous, a demonic grin spread across his lips. Perhaps I can have some fun while I wait. He set off towards the edges of town. He had a follower to recruit. Chapter 1 - Marcus Hale Hello, and welcome to Turen! I put the fanfiction tag on because I¡¯m going to be using some mechanics and item ideas from some familiar systems of MMORPGs. This includes legendary gems, combination of like gems to form better gems, item abilities, followers, dungeons, races, and crafting. I¡¯ll try to not straight rip it, but it¡¯s a lot to manage so if you have unique suggestions about alterations, I¡¯m listening! I may also go back and change game mechanics on the fly. For example, I altered the death penalty to 25% experience of a level and the random dropping of a piece of equipped gear, with better gear having a greater chance of dropping. Of course, this does not affect Ian. He still only gets one life, since he has no mental ¡°respawn point¡± like the pod that everyone else uses. Anyways, enjoy.
As Ian was strolling down the street through a line of various carts of different wares, an ethereal system prompt appeared in his view. [Since you have elected to start your journey without a class, please pick a starting set] [Warrior] [Spellcaster] [Rogue] [Shaman] Ian stopped abruptly, eliciting a few curses from the players walking behind him as they moved to go around. His mouth dropped open. This is it?? These lazy bastards really only designed four starter sets? The game was 95% generated by an immensely powerful adaptive AI. The other things though like starting sets, basic classes, and professions were implemented as a framework that the AI could use to build off of and grow. If the developers were as lazy with the classes and professions as they were for the starting sets... Respect for the AI grew in his heart like a burgeoning tide. Peeling his eyes away from the prompt, he swept his eyes over all the players in the vicinity and unfortunately found no newbies with which to compare. He¡¯d only ever played a mage class, so he didn¡¯t have any experience to go off of when it came to other classes¡¯ starting circumstances. Plus, it was regarded as trash equipment. Why would anybody ever discuss gear that they were going to toss five quests from then? Quickly choosing the spellcaster set, he noted their materialization in his Bags. Turen borrowed a lot of interface mechanics from previous mmorpgs. Ever since Turen¡¯s parent company VRSoft came into power as the premiere virtual reality gaming developer, a lot of the former tycoons had fallen into bankruptcy or were bought out to consolidate market share. Thus, it was no surprise that the bags had appeared here and for the most part unaltered. Every new character started out with a single 16-slot bag. Each player could have up to five bags on his person. The quality of the bag determined how many slots were available by equipping it.The idea that it was a ¡°bag¡± was more symbolic in nature than reality, because no bag could ever be seen on the person of a character. The objects were like digital pocket dimensions that perfectly stored and preserved anything you could put into them like reagents, herbs, ore, weapons, armor, etc. Every single type of item took up one slot, including large items. Crafting and profession materials below the legendary rank could be stacked on top of each other up, in the same slot, up until a predetermined amount. For example, the gather professions - herb gathering, mining, skinning, logging, and fishing - could stack the materials they produced up to a stack of 100 for each slot in the bagspace. In the beta, they had tried to institute a 20 count limit, but the world of Turen proved to be way too vast. Having smaller limits meant that players would have to come back to town more often to either sell or craft with their materials, and that simply wasn¡¯t an option when the players could range for several hundreds of miles away every time they stepped out the village or city gates. Ian walked around a corner, equipped his beginner gear and then came back out. Trying to hide it was nearly impossible, but changing your rags into a starting set in the middle of the street practically begged people to notice you. In this veteran-filled area, he had already felt the probing glances of passing players. Some of the sick bastards liked to target newbies merely because they found it amusing to crush a new player¡¯s dreams. They¡¯d follow a mark, usually with the help of a tracking skill from a hunter or rogue, wait for them to get a few levels on them or until they ran across a rare drop and kill them before they could pick it up. If they were real assholes, they would camp the city and repeatedly kill the target until they went back to level one and had no more gear. Rounding a fountain, he sat down on a drier section that wasn¡¯t partly frozen and opened his interface to get his bearings. Name: Anarch Race: High Elf Level: 1 HP: 100 MP: 110 Strength: 10 Agility: 10 Vitality: 10 Intelligence: 10 + 1 Wisdom: 10 Spell Hit: 85.25% (against lvl 1 mobs) Spell Power: 11 Crit Chance: 5.11% Racial: Innervate None How utterly depressing. I fucking hate this game, he thought dourly. Why the ire? Well, to a player like him who¡¯d spent almost a decade leveling a character in his other life, starting again from square one was enough to invoke what some gamers referred to as grind weariness, or grind burnout. It¡¯s the idea that a player had spent so much time towards building a character and experiencing every little thing along the way that he or she would literally feel exhausting just thinking about doing all again, especially the work involved with grinding materials or experience from mobs repeatedly. This was exasperated by the fact that he was still feeling ambivalent about being here. Sure, the game itself was fun, but how could he enjoy being here when the world was going to shit on the outside? That 1 spell power is from¡­ ah, wouldn¡¯t you know it. [Crude Staff] 4-6 blunt damage +1 Intelligence The rest of his starter stuff was just 2-3 armor per piece, resulting in a whopping 16 total armor. That would net him about 1% physical damage reduction. Joy. Alright, this is killing my motivation, let¡¯s go see Marcus. Walking past an inn where a lively scene was playing out, as in two players fighting over a barmaid, Ian drew closer to the fifty foot high stone wall that encircled 3/4ths of the town, the other 1/4th being water. Every once in awhile, groups of two or three guards with thick beards and mean eyes would walk by, eyeing the new person to the town with vigilance until they saw his gear and then they¡¯d always walk off laughing. The people here were known as the Brinane and were roughly equivalent to a combination of early Vikings and a middle ages knight culture. They were a strange people. They enjoyed brawling, hunting, and - oddly enough - bear tickling. It was this sport where enterprising lads would sneak into a bear den and try to get the best reaction of a hibernating bear without it waking up. Hilarious to watch, terrifying to watch go wrong. Thinking of that made Ian smile. While he loathed the game, at the same time he didn¡¯t really. It was a strange clash between his ideals and the reality of experience. Seeing the culture and perfectly played out scene like a movie, he couldn¡¯t help but feel an endearing sense of nostalgia. He was already trapped here. Did he really have to hate it every second of every day? These were an honest people that brought warmth to heart when you got to know them. They were hardy and strong, and thrived in the cold climate of these northern lands that bordered the icy plains and mountains of Icehelm. Of course, to the players and residents of this world, they had no clue that there was even an empire sitting on their heads. The Icehelm content wouldn¡¯t be released for another year, so Ian was confident in having the run of the land for the meantime. After all, no one would willingly go to somewhere as desolate as the far north unless there was reward to be found there. As of now, there had been little success by exploration parties, so most players stuck to the dungeons and zones that offered a guaranteed benefit. Shaking his head, Ian ignored the jeers of the most recent guard pair and headed in the direction from whence they came. Along the way, he got an eyeful of the populace. Stall owners and artisans mingled with the players in perfect harmony. Sometimes a player would get uppity with one of the locals but the high leveled guards would always show up and put a stop to it. Pushing around players or NPCs within the walls was a good way to get your ass handed to you. The main method of travel was horses that could be bought or rented out. If the players were trying to be economical, then they would rent a horse and buggy. Generally speaking, however, players would really only rent mounts at this stage. The game had yet to institute summonable mounts. After all these years, Ian really believed that it was just because the game devs were massive, colossal dicks. He refused to to think that the game AI couldn''t handle such a thing. There had to be a limiter in place. Casting his eyes above, Ian watched as car-sized snow eagles came flying into town with players aboard. This served as the ¡°quick travel¡± option for long distance traveling, but still it took a good while. The longest flights, assuming you¡¯d been to grab the nodes before, were days worth of flying. Many would simply log off while the process continued. It was currently the golden age of mages, simply because players would offer several gold to be shuttled through portals with their group to save on time. In a few minutes, the cold cobblestone gave way to dirt and he found himself at the edge of town, staring up at the coldiron portcullis that gaped menacingly like the jaws of a stone and steel giant. Snow would sometimes blow off the top, revealing a bundled up guard that was merely clearing the space between the parapets so that he could out of it. The banner of Jarl Icehammer flew beautifully from a pole on the center of the gatehouse, letting all who came near that this town was under his protection. Nodding to the four guards that guarded the main entrance, Ian briskly walked out of the gate and was met with a blast of frigid wind. Shivering, he turned to the side and followed the wall a short distance to a camp that was erected like a lean-to against the town¡¯s wall. There were well-made leather and cloth tents all around, the men and women occupying them corralled around a large bonfire for warmth that burned 24 hours a day. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Ian crunch up to them in the snow and asked brusquely, ¡°Marcus Hale?¡± None of them there paid any attention to him. Laughing to himself, Ian asked again loudly while secretly lamenting his neutral reputation with all factions and the lack of a basic identify skill, ¡°I¡¯m looking for Marcus Hale. Is he among you?¡± A tiny, shifty looking man finally frowned and turned around, training his eyes on the newbie and then snorting at the sight. ¡°Sod off ya noisy cunt,¡± he said, and then turned back to the fire while picking up a bottle. Ian took a deep, cold breath to calm himself. He ignored the little shit and turned to a freckled redhead woman that had to be named Helga. She was large and muscular, but the aura she emitted was noticeably less hostile. He tapped her shoulder and asked politely, ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bother, but could you point me to Marcus Hale?¡± Her dull, green eyes, which made him think of a matriarch bear, regarded him coolly for a moment before jerking her thumb in a direction. Saying his thanks, Ian turned to see a haggard man sitting off to the side, snoozing with a bottle in hand. He reeked of piss and booze. Is this really the high templar I¡¯ve heard about? Ian regarded him with mute wonder. Walking over, he roughly nudged the man, causing the arm that was propping up his snoozing head to fall forward. ¡°Thrice-damned orcs!¡± He started, blinking to see through the buzz and haze of sleep. Once he saw Ian, he snorted and added, ¡°Fuck off,¡± before turning to settle into a comfortable position again. In a matter of moments, he started snoring. Ian sighed and rubbed his forehead. Followers were supposed to be a really cool addition to the game. You could literally recruit NPCs to go around and battle with you in PvE situations. This was a monstrous help to ranged classes like mages that constantly had to either party up or hit and run a mob, also known as kiting, to wear it down. Followers came with unique, useful abilities that generally operated on cooldowns rather than mana and a cooldown like players. On top of that, they could wear gear like a player could while also having the ability to equip special follower items that were rewarded by quests or boss drops. As such, they were a guaranteed factor in strategizing for combat if they were available. That was the catch, though. Followers weren¡¯t a guaranteed for most players. In fact, they were a downright rarity. They were simply too expensive to hire, as they acted like mercenaries. Also, the better followers, like the templar in front of Ian, required special conditions to be hired. There was also the fact that Marcus Hale had seen better days. Sending a swift kick into Marcus¡¯ leg, Ian jumped back before a dagger came flashing by where his neck had used to be. The templar looked around confused and then settled on the player before him. Ian ignored his brush with death and instead asked curiously, ¡°How do you stay warm over here, Marcus?¡± The gruff man with a beard and shaggy hair as black as night snorted and pulled his bearskin blanket closer. ¡°My faith keeps me warm¡­¡± He scrutinized the youth before him and emphasized, ¡°Boy.¡± Turning over, he added with a chuckle, ¡°That and a bottle of 50 year old Elion bourbon.¡± Ian smiled and then prodded, ¡°Surely going on a grand journey would warm those old bones better than a bottle of liquor from the East. Why don¡¯t you follow me and earn back your glory?¡± ¡°What would you know?¡± Marcus scoffed. ¡°I¡¯ve been on more so-called ¡°grand journeys¡± than the hairs on your delicate chest.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re burned out. That¡¯s your story?¡± The drunken man suddenly sobered up and sent a hard gaze at Ian. ¡°You¡¯re asking a lot of questions, kid. Tread carefully.¡± The black-haired Ian gazed back for a few seconds before finally sighing. Scratching his cheek, he said, ¡°Fine. I can see you¡¯re the straightforward type. I¡¯d like to hire you. I have a difficult road ahead of me and I need someone of your caliber at my side.¡± Marcus¡¯ eyes swept over his gear and then mockingly said, ¡°You? Hire me? In your dreams, kid. In any case, I hung up that mantle. I have my own road to walk.¡± ¡°Would that road be the path to Clara?¡± Ian asked quietly. In the next instant, he blinked and then found himself pinned against the icy stone wall, pain radiating from his back. Marcus¡¯ crazed eyes took up his entire vision and he felt the cold bite of steel on his neck. -85 hp ¡°What do you know?¡± the High Templar asked with an eerily calm tone of voice. ¡°I know a lot. Most of it from stories, but the sources are reliable,¡± Ian said somberly. He took no joy from knowing details beyond him right now. He could see the manic fervor in Marcus¡¯ eyes, willing his mouth to open and divulge information. This was a soul-wrenching dilemma for the man. His sad voice continued, ¡°They tell of a noble who took a fancy on a high templar¡¯s wife when he came to the city to visit the Emperor. He knew that he shouldn¡¯t touch the woman of such an esteemed personage, but this caused him to want her even more, because she was both unfathomably beautiful and untouchable. Finally, on the last night of his visit, he snuck into their home, stealing her in the dead of night while her husband was guarding the Hallowed Halls of Elion.¡± Tears streaked down from the high templar¡¯s eyes, freezing on his cheekbones. There was a hunger in his tone as he asked, ¡°What was the noble¡¯s name? WHAT WAS HIS NAME?¡± He ended with a roar. Ian saw the group of mercenaries hovering over Marcus¡¯ shoulder in the background, casting a vigilant eye at the situation. Their hands inched over the scabbards at their waists in preparation to draw at a moment¡¯s notice. He turned his attention back to the bear of a man still holding him with an iron death-grip and said soothingly, ¡°They didn¡¯t say, Marcus, but they did know a bit about him. He has¡­ twisted¡­ morals. He did not force himself on her. Rather, he is waiting to break her by making her feel despair over the fact that you didn¡¯t come for her.¡± He stared into the man¡¯s eyes and nodded comfortingly, saying reassuringly, ¡°We both know that won¡¯t happen, right?¡± Marcus steadily dropped Ian back down to the ground and took a deep, shaky breath. Ian went on to say, ¡°I¡¯ve already asked those people to gather more information on the man like his name and where his keep is. However, you do realize that there is a price for this, yes? As much as it pains me, I must force your hand back into the slaughter for my own goals. This way, both of our aims will be achieved.¡± The high templar sat down heavily on his heavily furred cot and cradled his head in his hands. Several tense minutes went by until his muffled voice finally rang out, ¡°How long?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll take three months for my path to stabilize with your help. Inside of four, I anticipate that we will have the information we need. As soon as that happens, I will assist you in storming his keep myself.¡± This was, of course, complete horseshit. At least, the first two statements were. He could tell him right now where Clara was being held, but that would be an incredibly stupid move. Noble, but idiotic all the same. Right now, Ian was a classless ¡°novice¡± with no spells, proficiencies, or skills to his name. Sure, his skills in the real world were awesome, but the game had an awful way of handicapping players who tried to do something in combat without the correct proficiency or skill. A level 1 snow wolf pup would give him an annoying fight, much less the larger fare or, God forbid, a level 2 creature. Having a veteran of combat, who was essentially a paladin, at his side would go a long way in keeping him alive through this next bit of his plan. His hidden class awaits. Marcus removed his hands and snorted with dry bemusement, ¡°Virtuous words from a man wishing to exploit a High Templar into becoming a follower.¡± He gave another calming breath and then stood up, facing Ian with his broad shoulders, the furs layered under his armor making him seem all the more a giant than a man. ¡°I agree to your proposition. I, Marcus Hale, the High Templar of Elion, will aid you in your endeavors so long as they are just and until the contract is completed.¡± Unique Follower Quest generated! The High Templar Marcus Hale has agreed to serve you for a period of four months, during which you will aid him in rescuing his captured wife. If completed successfully, the templar will be eternally in your debt. If failed, he will employ his vast and considerable influence to hunt you down to the ends of Turen. Time Remaining: 118 days Reward for completion: +135,000 exp +5 bonus skill points +Marcus will become a permanent follower with no upkeep +3,000 reputation with Elion Penalty for failure: -6,000 reputation with Elion -12,000 reputation with Marcus Hale -3,000 reputation with all other Sea of Emis factions Ian about gagged at the quest notice. He¡¯d never even heard of a quest that threatened to destroy a player¡¯s reputation so thoroughly. Running from Marcus he could handle. He could even barely scrape by with not going to Elion for the near future, but that last reputation penalty was enough to ensure that he couldn¡¯t get in the gate of any popular city or town within a 100 miles of the Sea of Emis. 3,000 reputation points in either direction was enough to land you in friendly/unfriendly. If a city was unfriendly towards you, you couldn''t even approach without the guards chasing you off. It¡¯s not like he had planned on reneging or anything, but damn did the pressure mount quickly. The rewards though were more than worth the risk. Swallowing, Ian patted down his clothes and tried to still his beating heart. Twice. Twice today he had come close to dying. All while at level one, no less, and just having barely stepped out the gates. A shadow loomed and Marcus asked with his normal gruff tone, ¡°I never did ask. What is my employer¡¯s name?¡± He stuck out a hand. Ian grabbed the proffered hand and gave a solid shake, feeling the crushing strength of his new follower. He said while looking into the bearded giant''s resolute eyes, ¡°You can call me Anarch.¡±
Workin'' on a map! Map and Game Mechanics I have a map! I thought about trying to do the responsible writer bit and draw it up from scratch, but I''m honestly more enthused by the story than making sure the map details are perfect. Thus, I ran through a random world generator until I got as close to what I wanted as possible, altering some names and such. Yes, I''m lazy, forgive me. The MC is currently in the northwestern section in the town of Claford. Spoiler : Map of Turen The section below is the compendium of basic gaming mechanics that I''ll be using. There are lots of VR novels on this site, so I think it''s better to go ahead and give you a cheat sheet and lay some things down in stone. I''ll still explain in the story, but this can serve as your reference in case you''re ever confused. Gear Quality Gray (trash) < White (Common) < Green (Uncommon) < Blue (Rare) < Purple (Epic) < Orange (Legendary) < Red (Artifact) *As a general rule of thumb, the stats and damage of the item at the listed level will be enhanced according to which tier the piece of equipment belongs to. The scheme for such is as follows: (trash) = -30% armor/damage, no stats (Common) = Normal armor/damage for level, no stats (exception: starter equipment) (Uncommon) = +15-30% armor/damage, possesses stats equivalent to lvl norm (Rare) = +30-40% armor/damage, +30-40% stats (Epic) = +50-75% armor/damage, +50-75% stats (Legendary) = +100-125% armor/damage, +100-125% stats (Artifact) = +175-200% armor/damage, =175-200% stats *All items have a required level to wear *Most items have durability. Exceptions include starter equipment, a few legendaries, and reforged Artifact equipment *The higher an item is on this hierarchy, the greater its probability to drop upon death. Artifacts have a 100% chance to drop, regardless of whether another item is chosen in the random death penalty roll. On such an instance, the player will lose both items. Gems Gems are naturally occurring gemstones that can drop from mining nodes or mobs/monsters/bosses. Each have a respective innate ability to focus atmospheric mana in a certain way. A gem''s quality and cut affect how well the gem''s innate ability is displayed when socketed into items and weapons. The jewelcrafting profession has a lot to do with obtaining the highest levels because they have the ability to combine and improve lower tier gems into higher ones. Quality: Chipped < Flawed < Normal < Flawless < Teardrop < Duke < Flawless Duke < Emperor < Flawless Emperor < Sovereign Effect: Lapis Lazuli = Usually just referred to as "Lapis," this gem is essential for mage-type casters. Socketing it into caster armor will provide bonuses to Intelligence. Socketing it into a weapon will increase both Spell Hit and Spell Critical Chance. Jade = Gem that is essential for Rogue-type damage dealers and tanks who want to build dodge, because it increase Agility when socketed to Armor. All classes possess interest in socketing it into a weapon, however, as it increases Critical Strike Damage, or, in other words, it multiplies the damage received by the target when a critical strike is achieved. Garnet = A gem that strength users love, it provides Strength bonuses when socketed to armor. Socketing it to a weapon will give the weapon a chance to rend a target, causing it to bleed for x damage for x seconds, based upon the gem quality. Amethyst = Also known as the gem of Life, it provides Vitality bonuses for armor sockets. If equipped to a weapon, it gives the ability to siphon life from the world around the character, crystallized the atmospheric mana and turning it into HP. It does not affect the target however. Moonstone = A mysterious gem, it has never before appeared in the hands of a character or npc. There are legends, however, that state the gemstone has the ability to "layer a person in moonlight" boosting damage reduction across all aspects. Legendary Gems = gems that possess unique "abilities" that aid the character in some facet. Will be updated in the future. No characters on the world of Turen have reached a level or location where such a gem can drop. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Followers *Followers are immortal, but can be incapacitated upon losing all of their hp. When this happens, they will go into a "downed" state and kneel on the ground to recover. There are stories about legendary items that can enable them to persist through their wounds however. *Followers can equip most of the same gear of the closest class. Templar most closely resemble Paladins, so they can equip the majority of what Paladins can wear. The only exception is class specific items that Paladins alone can equip. *Followers can be sent on missions or to run errands * *Follower gear can be socketed and equipped with gems, including legendary gems. *A character IS NOT limited to how many followers they can obtain *Followers are ranked in ability exactly like items. They follow the same schema and bonuses to their respective abilities just like how items have their percentage gains per tier. This does not compound/affect the equipment they''re wearing. Gray (trash) < White (Common) < Green (Uncommon) < Blue (Rare) < Purple (Epic) < Orange (Legendary) < Red (Artifact) Example: Marcus Hale is an (Epic) Follower Spell and Melee Hit Turen is a dual system where it has both automated attack movements and skill exclusions. What this means is that Turen will assist players in making the appropriate attacks, literally taking over their movement in order to achieve this. Such a mechanic locks down a player''s action, but since the average player is not a master of combat, most still choose to leave the function enabled. Those who learn combat and martial art styles are encouraged to turn off this function, as the game will allow critical strike, critical damage, crippling strikes (like hamstring), and skill shot bonuses if completed skillfully. Average players may not be able to hold their own against such players in 1v1 PvP, but they still possess the option to band together to make up for their inadequacies and overcome their limitations. In fact, all players are encouraged to learn enough combat training to step away from the system''s training wheels. Spells and ranged attacks are much the same. General spells like Frostbolt and Fireball, or bows and thrown weapons, are auto-seeking towards the player or creature targeted. Most spellcasters leave the function enabled for the expression reason that they have to attack from extreme range and do not possess the skill to anticipate movement. However, this makes their damage predictable and they suffer from the precision capabilities of melee veterans. The select few skillful ranged damage dealers are the highest scoring in PK or PvP situations. Professions Professions are limited to two primary choices. These main two receive a 25% bonus in leveling speed and drop/effect creation. However, players are not limited to only having two professions. Since the game is structured for long term use in the world, players may branch out and learn technically any and all of the other professions. However, they level -10% slower than the previous set of professions. For example, a player has two professions that gain the 25% buff. This player adds on another two, but they get 15%. The next two 5%, the next two -5%, and so forth. This encourages specialization while also still allowing characters to become self-sufficient to a degree. Professions are not easy to level, though, so the market impact is minimal. Gathering: Crafting: General Professions:
Questions, comments? I''m about to start working on the next chapter now. Chapter 2 - Loophole I¡¯m really itching to show you the guys the hidden class¡­ and the secondary class¡­ and the rest of the story. All in due time! If you want to know approximately when the first class will be revealed, it should be chapter 4 or 5. In the meantime, enjoy!
Marcus nodded to Ian¡¯s words, tasting the name on his lips, ¡°Anarch, huh. A strange name.¡± ¡°It means ¡°ideal sovereign,¡± the positive counterpart of an anarchist. I got it from a book that I liked,¡± Ian commented with a chuckle. ¡°In any case, the first meaning of the name is incomplete. I¡¯m working on expanding it.¡± The two turn and walked towards the city gates. Marcus had miraculously sobered up to an astonishing degree. He raked his calloused fingers through his immense black beard a few times to shake loose the ice and snow that had settled there. The Templar grumbled absentmindedly during his task, ¡°That¡¯s very ambitious of you, youngster.¡± He looked up to squint at the giant eagle just passing overhead and continued sarcastically, ¡°Is that your path then? Planning to take over the Emperor¡¯s seat?¡± Ian rolled his eyes. ¡°Hardly. I have no feud with Elion. I meant the immediate future when I mentioned my path earlier. Like hell I could get past your counterparts in the Hallowed Halls after only four months of training.¡± The massive Templar snorted as they passed under the portcullis, ¡°Indeed. No one of your¡­ capability¡­ would be able to come within a mile of it with hostile intentions before dying an abrupt, light-filled death.¡± He looked around at the gawking guards who seemed surprised to see him sober and then frowned. ¡°Where the hell are we going? You haven¡¯t explained anything to me yet and I¡¯m starting to regret agreeing on a whim.¡± ¡°Ah come off it. We¡¯re heading to the Tailor shop, followed by the Jewelcrafting trainer. Then, I need to swing by a few other trainers while picking up a few items in preparation for grinding the next day. Ah, scratch that, I only have 50 copper...Just those two professions then. After that¡­¡± Ian turned his gaze to look at the templar swaggering beside him like a mountain. ¡°I need you to teach me dagger proficiency, sword proficiency, staff proficiency, healing light, and blessing of intelligence.¡± Marcus came to an abrupt stop, gawking at the young man dressed in white gear. He ground out slowly, ¡°I can understand the first three, but do you realize that the last two are the greatest reward my order can give out? To be able to learn those spells outside of the correct class is the highest honor.¡± Ian nodded with a small knowing smile. ¡°Of course I know. Would I have been knowledgeable enough to include them if I didn¡¯t know the circumstances?¡± He paused to look at a food stall wistfully before continuing unhurriedly, ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve realized this Marcus, but I am a classless traveler. I have no abilities at the moment.¡± The templar¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°That¡¯s a death sentence!¡± he exclaimed gruffly. ¡°If not for you, yes, I would be royally screwed. I do have a reason for it though,¡± Ian explained. ¡°I¡¯m after a hidden quest that awards a special class upon completion. It requires me to be a novice level 10 to be able to get the reward. Asking you to teach me these spells is so that I have at least some survivability and damage capability until then.¡± Marcus grumbled a few more complaints before finally giving in. It wasn¡¯t really a huge deal to him anyway. He just had to teach him the phrase and show him how to harness the power in the right way. The game wasn¡¯t too brutal in requiring spoken spells. Learning it once was enough. From then on, it became more of a ¡°channeling¡± process to cast while the game automated the special effects for the players. Ian really hadn¡¯t anticipated him giving him too much trouble over it. The templar was retired, so to speak, and no longer had to hold to the customs of the Hallowed Halls where he used to serve. It was entirely up to him who he taught his skills to and Ian was currently his employer. What the young twenty year old didn¡¯t tell him, however, was that a loophole had been discovered nearly 8 years after the game¡¯s inception in his other life. A novice, classless idiot had miraculously stumbled across a sorceress that was in a bind, helped her and then was granted her service for a term for getting her out of that crisis. Pretty soon, that lucky bastard had figured out that he had gotten his hands on an epic follower and randomly asked her if she had skills she could teach him. He¡¯d meant it as a joke of course, but the sorceress had taken him seriously, granting him a Buff spell(spell that enhances a target for a duration), an elemental shield skill, and the ability to teleport to city nodes he¡¯d been before. This, in and of itself, wasn¡¯t necessarily a new concept. Uncommon or Rare followers could also dole out skills to travelers who were novices. These spells always went away though whenever the player inevitably picked a class when they reached level 10 and all experience progress was halted. The Turen-shattering difference in this case was that his skills remained even after he¡¯d already picked up a class. And it wasn¡¯t even a spellcaster; he¡¯d picked a warrior - which was hilarious in its own right, because warriors didn¡¯t have mana, the resource required to operate all three of the skills. After the information spread, and every guild in the area had hunted him back to level 1 for wasting such an opportunity, several trial cases were conducted by some guilds and private companies to determine what the conditions were for this to happen. The two criteria that were revealed was that a) a player had to be a novice without a class, and b) the follower granting the skill had to be at least of epic tier. This didn¡¯t mean much for the average player, but for a veteran like Ian it was incredibly important information at the time. Sadly, the grand majority of epic followers, which were damn near impossible to find, were already snatched up. He would spend hours researching sightings and possible candidates, as well as players who had already succeeded in obtaining an epic follower, just to get an idea of how conversations went and quests were generated. Followers are that important to ranged classes like mages, especially melee types that are tanky. Like the big, lovable bastard walking beside him. As soon as he¡¯d decided on the starting town, he immediately searched his memories for untaken epic followers in the area and that inevitably led him to Marcus. Now that he was back at the beginning of it all, it would be foolish to not take advantage of it. He even knew where to find a legendary follower, but that was a long and arduous journey away from now. He couldn¡¯t get to her, let alone complete the quest needed to gain her loyalty. Numerous preparations would have to be made. The pair walked in the door to the tailoring shop and Ian felt himself bump into a cloaked girl on the way out. Noticing the delicate skin and strands of shiny brown hair that peeked out from under the lip of her hood like the mirage of an oasis, he was momentarily stunned before shaking himself and proceeding into the store. Though she seemed to be pretty, it was obvious that she was hiding her features for some reason. The cloak must have been special, because it merely said [player] above her head, instead of the typical name and level. For instance, most of the players in this area were in the 45-50 range. He wasn¡¯t one to pry if he could help it. Once the two were in front of the tailoring trainer, which turned out to be a well-dressed, wiry old man with crude spectacles and and a kempt beard, Ian greeted him with a smile and asked, ¡°Tailor, I¡¯d like to take up your profession, please.¡± The trainer paid little attention to him, however, still busily stitching a seam on a vest that looked like it was going to be used in a traditional Brinane wedding. Ian and Marcus waited patiently for a few minutes until the shopkeeper finally sighed and put down his needle. Peering over his glasses at the young man, he said, ¡°If you want to learn this line of work, you need to have steady hands and a discerning eye. Do you think you are to the task, elf? I¡¯ve heard tale of your predecessors who blew themselves up because they mishandled spells that were beyond them. At the higher levels of tailoring, handling spellwork and weaving it into cloth is a big deal, so you need to be sure.¡± Ian smirked in amusement. ¡°I can handle it. I am not them.¡± The tailoring trainer seemed uninterested in his assurances, speaking while holding out a hand, ¡°That¡¯ll be 10 copper, then.¡± The high elf player nodded and looked at the prompt that displayed to him. [Do you wish to learn Tailoring as your first profession? It costs 10 copper to learn.] [Accept] [Decline] ¡°What the hell?¡± He looked at the unavailable ¡°accept¡± option and was momentarily surprised before quickly checking his currency counter through his inventory. 0c 0s 0g ¡°What the fuck!¡± he exclaimed. There should have been 50 copper there. The tailor wagged his hand at him. ¡°What, you can¡¯t even take out 10 copper? Hurry up, I don¡¯t have all day to mess around ya know.¡± Ian grit his teeth as he thought of the hooded girl. She was the only one who had gotten close enough to him besides Marcus to trigger a Pickpocket skill. To do that to a new player... She obviously new that he wouldn¡¯t have much money on him. She must have done it just to fuck with him. Just wait, you''ve earned yourself a negative level in the future. He turned to look at the Templar and asked, ¡°Can I borrow 50 copper?¡± Marcus looked back at him bemused, ¡°That bottle was the last of my wealth, little lord. I go out and hunt whenever I run out.¡± The eat shit grin on his face was repulsive. Ian ground his teeth together and then looked back at the tailor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to have wasted your time. It seems I¡¯ve been pickpocketed on my way in here.¡± The wiry old man snorted and turned back to his project. ¡°If you want the profession, bring the coin.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do that.¡± Ian turned around and Marcus followed after with a huge smile on his face. Once they were outside, Ian turned to the templar and said, ¡°Well, that kills my plan to get my first two professions before we go out. Let¡¯s go hunt, but before that I need those proficiencies and spells.¡± This wiped the grin from the large man¡¯s face. He begrudgingly imparted all of the knowledge that Ian was looking for, going into small demonstrations right there on the street. Some of the players stopped to watch, but were unable to tell how high the follower was and merely snickered at the sight of a noob getting skills that he was destined to lose. Each secretly hoped he put skill points into them, which would be a complete waste once he hit level 10. Skills in Turen were all on a ranking system that was governed by level requirements. For example, when Ian learns [Blessing of Intelligence] a pair of parentheses will appear next to the skill which indicates (1/20), meaning that up to 20 points could be placed into the skill. However, he couldn¡¯t just grind to level 20 and dump all his SP into it along the way. There would always be a few levels required before the next SP could be placed into [Blessing of Intelligence]. He would have to stagger his points between several skills as he levels up. Active skills like [Blessing of Intelligence] were not the only type that players could put points towards, however. There were also Passive Skills which benefits certain scenarios, other skills, and weapons. In fact, lots of them had been designed to be paired with a few active skills and possess what gamers call ¡°synergy.¡± The proficiencies that Marcus was teaching Ian at the moment were in fact passives that he could apply SP towards if he so chose. The first level where a player can have a maxed out skill is level 80. This is also the last level where a level requirement will hinder a player from maxing out a skill. Many players grind as quickly as possible to that level merely so that they can finish out the build that they had envisioned for their character. There was a lot of strategy that went into building a skillset. Some players opted to go for the highest level of a few skills, while others chose a diversified spread so that they could deal with a variety of mobs, players, and situations. There were benefits and trade-offs for every skill point spread. For frame of reference, the highest level player in the game right now is 95 with 100 being the cap. The last 10 levels were notorious for being extremely difficult to grind out, even with the help of dungeons or quests and their concentrated experience. This cap would be readjusted along with the difficulty of advancement when the next patch comes out, which is due in another 6 months. With what Ian knew, this would be plenty of time for him to catch up. Taking another look at his follower, he smiled. Marcus Hale lv. 75 Epic Templar Follower At the moment, Marcus¡¯ level would be locked. Once followers agree to a contract, they stay at whatever level they¡¯re at until the player can catch up to them. When Ian did that, he would then start to level alongside him, growing in experience as Ian continued to level. There¡¯s always a cost, however. Perhaps because the system AI anticipated players abusing high level followers, it applied an experience gain debuff on the player that amounted to the difference in level between the player and follower. Ian was currently receiving -74% experience from mobs while the templar was around. In other words, he had to kill 4 times as many mobs to get the same amount of experience as any other random player at level 1. Marcus soon finished teaching Ian the requested skills and proficiencies and several prompts filled his vision. [You have learned Dagger Proficiency( 1/20)] [You have learned Sword Proficiency (1/20)] [You have learned Stave Proficiency (1/20)] [You have learned the Skill [Blessing of Intelligence (1/20)]] [You have learned the Skill [Healing Light (1/20)]] Dagger Proficiency (1/20) *Gain 1% hit chance and .5% critical hit chance per level* Current: (1%) hit chance (.5%) critical hit chance Sword Proficiency (1/20) *Gain 1% hit chance and .5% critical hit chance per level* Current: (1%) hit chance (.5%) critical hit chance Stave Proficiency (1/20) *Gain 1% hit chance and .5% critical hit chance per level* Current: (1%) hit chance (.5%) critical hit chance [Blessing of Intelligence (1/20)] *Buffs the target for 1 hour, adding 1% Intelligence per level* Current: (1%) Cost: 10% of base mana [Healing Light (1/20)] *Heals friendly target for 50 + (.3*SP) hp. Initial value scales with subsequent levels.* Cast time: 1.5 seconds Mana Cost: 20% base mana Ian smiled happily for the first time since reaching Turen. Just like that, he¡¯d picked up 3 Passive Skills and 2 Actives for free. Normally, players would have to pay that 1 skillpoint just to learn the skill in the first place, so he¡¯d received 5 levels worth of skill points right off the bat with no cost to himself. That¡¯s one additional thing to mention. Skill points could be earned outside of just leveling. The quest that Marcus gave Ian earlier was a perfect example of that. Certain quests would often offer additional skill points. Players absolutely loved these quests and actively looked for them in the world. The grand majority were not unique questlines like the templar¡¯s either, so all players could go and do them for the rewards. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Feeling that his day was finally looking up, Ian motioned to the templar and they both walked out of the gate to begin grinding. *** Ian grimaced while fending off an attacking mob. Tundra Boar lvl. 8 Health: 212/280 He himself was only level two. The boar glared back at him with hate-filled eyes, crusted snot mixed with ice crackling with every heated breath through its snout. The creature was very shaggy, possessing a mane of black and white from age that bulged outwards like an ugly coat from one of those fashion designers in the early 21st century. The two circled each other and the boar suddenly charged back in, seeking to skewer Ian on his gory tusks. Dancing out of the way at the last second, Ian scored a hit on the cranium of the boar with his staff which made it squeal with bloody rage. -3 damage (Critical hit!) ¡°Hahahaha... your turn, Marcus,¡± Ian laughed deprecatingly. The level difference coupled with his shitty white staff resulted in horribly depressing damage. The boar stopped a few meters away and started to rub its head on the ground, like he¡¯d just gotten a headache, or an itch. Ever heard of adding insult to injury, you bastard! Ian shook his head mentally. While it was definitely faster to level with Marcus, he still had to deal 25% of the damage to the mob for it to give him 100% of the possible experience that he could gain. He¡¯d need better gear as soon as possible, or else this would be extraordinarily painful. The templar, who looked supremely bored, stepped forward from where he¡¯d been watching off to the side and unsheathed his sword and shield, which they¡¯d retrieved on their way out of town. Since Ian held 100% of the aggro, and no lvl 8 creature would logically attack a level 75, Marcus had to step in the creature¡¯s path as it charged again, choosing to bash it with his shield in a gigantic backhand that stirred up the snow in an arc in front of him. It was a home run. With a vicious crack of the neck, the bashed boar was flung backwards, soaring in a straight line until it smacked against a large tree that was in its flight path. It fell down lifelessly to the great gray roots below, tumbling until it finally rested in the snow beneath the barren tree. Blood oozed from all of its orifices, dying the snow around it. -1,254 damage (Critical hit!) -312 damage (Environmental) [Lvl 8 Tundra Boar died!] With the death of the boar, a large pulse of energy rained down from the heavens, completely encircling the novice standing nearby. The light was warm and radiant, sending shockwaves into the surrounds and disturbing the birds on the nearby trees. The heat was more than welcome in this cold northern environment. [You have leveled up!] [You are now level 3] [You have 5 unspent attribute points] [You have 3 unspent skill points] Navigating to his character panel, he quickly assigned his attribute points. Name: Anarch Race: High Elf Level: 3 HP: 120 MP: 170 Strength: 10 Agility: 10 Vitality: 12 Intelligence: 16 + 1 Wisdom: 12 Spell Hit: 86.75% (against lvl 3 mobs) Spell Power: 17 Crit Chance: 5.17% Unspent Skill Points: 3 Active: Racial: Innervate Blessing of Intelligence (1/20) Healing Light (1/20) Passive: Dagger Proficiency (1/20) Sword Proficiency (1/20) Stave Proficiency (1/20) None Right now, he was assigning his attribute points in a 1/3/1 spread to vitality, intelligence, and wisdom, respectively. This was the best possible assignment in his mind because it constantly increased his HP, MP, spell critical, spell hit, spell power, and mana regen. All were vital pieces of the mage class that he was going for. He was also holding on to his skill points until level 10 and the quest for the hidden class was unlocked. Turning to the templar who was dragging the dead boar over, Ian asked, ¡°Do you need me to throw you a heal there, Marcus?¡± The gigantic man deadpanned. ¡°I think I¡¯m alright.¡± ¡°You sure? I think I see a scratch there¡­¡± Ian hummed, his face full of schadenfreude. ¡°Let me get that for you.¡± Before the templar could say anything, Ian cast a Healing Light on him. [You have healed Marcus Hale for 0 HP! (55 overheal)] ¡°Ah damn, you were right.¡± Marcus shook his head before chuckling slightly. ¡°Fuck off, kid.¡± Ian suddenly stopped and stared back at him annoyedly. ¡°Let¡¯s get something straight here. You keep referring to my age like you think I¡¯m a pre-teen... I¡¯m actually 26, sir, and a grown man. You¡¯re what¡­ 32, 33? I don¡¯t want to hear from you.¡± ¡°No way!¡± the templar scoffed. ¡°What twenty-something year old would still be in single digit levels?¡± He stopped and looked at him strangely, ¡°Or look so¡­ delicate?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, I am. And did you forget that I¡¯m a Traveler? A high elf? I just came to your world, so of course my level is going to be low,¡± Ian replied. The templar finally came to halt in front of him with the giant boar and Ian swiftly moved to collect the drops, borrowing Marcus¡¯ sword to chop off the tusks. [You have picked up (2) Tundra Boar tusks!] Ian grumbled while looking at the corpse. If he was an alchemist, he could collect the blood. If he was a skinner, he could collect the hide. If he had herb gathering, he could pick that Iceblood Vine over there, but no¡­ no, that bitch had pickpocketed him back inside city limits and fucked his first grinding session. A vengeful gleam entered his eye. Just wait, you¡¯ve now earned yourself two levels of lost experience! Turning back to the templar, he finally allowed himself to say the words, ¡°Let¡¯s go back and cash in all this crap.¡± Looking at his solitary backpack bag that was crammed full, he felt a little bit better at least. Each of the tusks could vendor for 15 copper a piece, and he had had twelve stacks of 5 to make up a total of 60 tusks. That would net him 9 silver, which would be plenty to secure his first two professions and a new bag or two. Currency in the world was pretty simple. 100 copper = 1 silver 100 silver = 1 gold 100 gold = 1 platinum However, at this expansion, there actually wasn¡¯t any platinum yet. That would be introduced in the next patch. Then, three patches from now, they¡¯d introduce a new, higher currency type: crystal coins. These would be much harder to get, as they were equivalent to 1000 platinum coins. In any case, that was for the distant future. Players of the game today barely had a couple hundred gold, let alone enough to dream about 1000 platinum. Just as the tusks disappeared into Ian¡¯s inventory space, a small green gleam emitted from the boar, catching his eye. Nestled beneath its hulking body, was a softly glowing dagger. Ian picked it up and brushed off the bits of hair and snow on its pommel. Boar Sticker (dagger) 10 - 12 Damage +3 Intelligence Requires level 5 ¡°Ah... praise be to Barath.¡± The 26-year-old looked skyward. Marcus was cracking up off to the side. ¡°It¡¯s just a low leveled dagger. While I agree that you should praise the deity of light, what¡¯s your problem?¡± Ian looked back at him with a reprimanding expression. ¡°Can I not be excited to ditch that fucking staff in the near future?¡± The templar wiped away a tear. ¡°I thought you were going to be a mage class though, judging by your staff and cloth gear.¡± Ian nodded. ¡°I am, but it¡¯ll be very¡­ different from the normal mage.¡± He cut his eyes at the staff in his hands and frowned, disgusted. ¡°And it won¡¯t involve wielding a fucking staff.¡± ¡°Always so secretive. I¡¯m stuck with you for four months, ya know. It wouldn¡¯t kill ya to give me a heads up,¡± Marcus replied gruffly, sliding his tower shield to his back and sheathing his sword. ¡°You¡¯ll know in a few days,¡± Ian said simply while blowing warm air into his cupped hands. Suddenly, a fierce rustling came from a nearby bush and the berry clad limbs parted, revealing a silvery version of the same type of boar that the pair had killed only a moment ago. Ian focused on the ethereal nameplate above its head and sucked in a cold breath. Icetusk Tundra Boar lvl. 9 Rare Leader Health: 560/560 ¡°Hurrhurr¡­¡± Ian smiled while a low, embarrassing chuckle escaping from his chapped lips. Leader class monsters were the same as chiefs for humanoid races. All leadership level mobs had increased drop percentage chances. If it were only a leader, Ian would at best hope for another green item. It being a ¡°rare,¡± though, gave it a chance of dropping a rare blue piece of gear. He licked his lips before charging towards the new mob, almost as if he were afraid that somebody would show up and take it from him. Beady eyes gazed back, taking in the sight of its fallen brother, and the look finally morphed into one of rage from initial confusion. Striking at the ground with a hoof, the boar reared and then rocketed forward, pointing its fierce, 3 feet long serrated tusks at the charging player. Creating a small burst of snow, Ian launched himself upwards, barely skimming the tusks as the boar wrenched them upwards in a bid to gouge a piece of flesh from him. Using a hand that was just above the boar¡¯s head, he furiously gripped at the silver mane, causing his body to suddenly flip and come down onto its back, right where he wanted. Riding the beast like a smaller version of a bucking bronco, Ian desperately help on by squeezing his legs and his fur-filled right hand with all of his strength, all the while raining down blows on its head. -2, -2, -1, -2¡­. Blow after blow, buck after buck, Ian felt himself coming loose from his perch. After whittling away 50 hp from the beast, he finally couldn¡¯t hang on anymore and pushed off as hard as he could, falling into the grassy snow that lightly burned on his exposed arms. Whirling around, the boar fixed its gaze on him once again and charged with reckless abandon. Ian¡¯s eyes searched the surroundings and alighted on a tree that was right behind. It had two low-hanging branches and an idea sprouted in his mind. Scrambling to his feet, he positioned himself in front of the tree and watched the boar melt the distance between them. 15 feet. 10 feet. 5 feet. With a flourish, he placed his staff on top of the two branches, using it like a bar to swing his body upwards and narrowly avoiding the serrated tusks. The dull sound of something sharp meeting a solid tree rang forth and Ian looked down to find that the boar had momentarily gotten stuck in the bark from the combined efforts of its charge and sharp tusks. Dropping back down, he continued hammering on it with all his might. Eventually, his Crude Staff splintered, cracking into two pieces, but still he continued raining down blows on the creature¡¯s head while its shoulder muscles strained to pull its head away from the tree. After 2 minutes, Ian finally reached the 75% hp mark on the mob and backed up tiredly. Turning to Marcus, he pleaded wearily, ¡°Marcus?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah. I got it.¡± The templar moved forward and took out his sword, neatly drawing a dull red line across the beast¡¯s neck. -250 damage (Icetusk begins bleeding for 10% of its hp/sec!) -58 damage -58 damage -58 damage [Icetusk has been slain!] Ian focused to the bottom of his vision and blanked as he found that it was already 48% of the way to the next level. One rare lv. 9 leader mob was enough for half of a level. That was huge. Remember, he was still suffering from a -72% experience debuff. Leveling was not easy. He and Marcus had already hunted over 30 boars that were in the 7-8 level range, which netted him a multiplicative bonus of 600-700% to experience gain based on the difference in level. This was about as high as he could go because the system limited him from getting any experience if the killed mob was over 10 levels above him - not that he could damage the thing by then. Or even hit it. Here, those boars were only enough to get him two levels in as many hours. It could be understood how arduous it would be to level on one¡¯s own and why even the best players of the game weren¡¯t max level yet. All of the weariness suddenly left his body like it¡¯d never been there, replaced instead by vigor as he greedily eyed the corpse. Approaching near, he sawed off the two husks and then rolled over the corpse to find a beautiful, indescribably awesome blue light emanating from the item. However that moment of glee didn¡¯t last. [You have picked up (2) Tundra Boar tusks!] [You have picked up Icetusk Leggings!] Icetusk Leggings (Mail) 75 Armor +5 Vitality +7 Strength Requires level 10 Ian knelt down and cradled his head in his hands. He couldn¡¯t wear mail armor. A few moments later, he silently stood up and began walking towards town while thinking quietly to himself, Damn you, Barath! Chapter 3 - A Persistent Shadow I will eventually do tables...but right now I just don¡¯t have the time to figure out the huge complicated one. I¡¯ll experiment with the how-to guide later and replace all the previous tables when I¡¯m comfortable. Enjoy!
[Your item: Icetusk Leggings has sold for 1 gold and 23 silver!] Ian looked at the prompt in surprise and put down his cup of ale. After Ian and Marcus had returned to town, they immediately went to a stone structure that had this air of finality to it, as if would exist for all time. Broad columns of stone decorated the front of the building, dividing the fairly busy foot traffic that the players and locals provided like rocks breaking waves. This place was known as The Exchange. There was even stone carving decorating the walls and columns, depicting fierce battles between the Brinane warriors and the various surrounding species that constantly threatened their existence - naga, Ice Demons, the Trolgol tribes¡­ there were even carvings of Ice Revenants and undead, though no one around here knew why they were included as they were myths most often included in bedtime stories. Inside, players could find an exchange desk and place any of their items on a global selling platform that operated through the system. They could then choose variable bid and buyout amounts, as well as the time frame for which the item would be listed - all in an effort to get the highest price for their exchanged item. What bewildered him momentarily was that it had reached his reserve price so fast. He¡¯d chosen to have the item listed for 12 hours with a starting bid of 75 silver. It was a suitable price in his mind and felt like a great sum of wealth. However, he also listed a hidden buyout option where, if the price was reached in the bidding, the first person to choose the buyout option could just go ahead and reserve the item. It had only been an hour since he placed the item on the Exchange, though if he thought about it with his rusty mind, it would make sense. There were over a billion players at the moment. If one assumed that there were a 100 million players browsing the Exchange at any given moment, which is less than 10% of the total population in the game, then it stands to reason that there were probably many within that number who found that item useful. Guilds, for instance, could buy it in order to equip newly leveling characters. In any case, it didn¡¯t really matter to him who bought it. Ian was now feeling pretty rich with his 1 gold and 32 silver after having sold everything in his bag besides the green dagger. Turning to Marcus who was busily chowing down on a roasted pheasant, he slapped one of the silver coins on the table and motioned to Marcus while flagging down the waitress. She was a comely little girl and judging by how the Innkeeper and his wife kept an eye on her at all times, you could tell that she was their daughter. Ian smiled at the protective gazes while standing up and leaving. ¡°Where are we off to, Anarch?¡± the large templar questioned while licking the grease off of his fingers. The sound was obnoxious and Ian frowned as he shot a look at the man. ¡°We¡¯re heading to the mail array over by the fountain. I received notification that those mail leggings sold.¡± Marcus roughly brushed his hands against the furs on his body and mused, ¡°It¡¯s always fascinated me that your kind can receive ¡°prompts,¡± or whatever you call it, straight into your mind.¡± Ian chuckled. ¡°Your people are more intuitive by nature, right?¡± The templar nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. I can look at a person and tell what level they are, or what class they chose. Names aren¡¯t included in that usually unless the person has an extreme level of either infamy or renown.¡± ¡°Makes sense.¡± Ian¡¯s eyes swept over the fountain as they walked into the right plaza. The temperature was palpably warmer here than the streets they¡¯d just traversed. In the center of the fountain was a stone statue of a huge warrior that was wielding an axe and shield, battling against a vicious looking Trolgol - a strange hybrid creature of a troll species and some water humanoid race known as the Mogol with muscular arms and fins. The Brinane was wearing full plate on top of warm furs that prevented the encroaching chill of the icy water that the Trolgol thrived in. The creature also had armor and a tri-pronged spear in the shape of a triangle. The waters below the display were produced via a hot spring that that bubbled up from the ground below. As such, the entire area was about 10 degrees warmer than other areas in the coastal town and steam continuously billowed up. Lots of players and locals lingered here for that reason, preferring the warmth to the ever-present biting chill of the North. Ian walked over to a small platform where a slanted tablet lay, runes inscribed all over its surface with arcane power flowing through the diagrams. Being so close to the magic, he felt an innate calling in his high elf blood reaching out to the energy coursing through the structure. It was a strange feeling that passed before it really even had the chance to affect him. Reaching out, he held up his hand to the plate that looked like an arcane lectern and called forth his character sheet in his mind. [Verifying identity...complete.] [You have one message containing: 1g 23s from The Exchange. Do you wish to retrieve it?] Ian pressed the holographic accept button and the money automatically transferred to his bag. He was so thankful that it transferred through space rather than him having to take out the gold and put it in his bag. If he had to do that, he may as well be asking to be robbed. Feeling a weight come floating off his chest, he looked around suspiciously for any hooded women nearby. He didn¡¯t want a repeat of what happened before. If she took him for all he was worth again, he¡¯d be handicapped when he went out to grind. Again. What was her deal with him anyway? Did he look at her the wrong way or something? Shaking his head, he turned to the templar next to him who was curiously surveilling the surroundings. He said, ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go get those professions now. And some better gear... and some bags.¡± Receiving a grunt in reply, he plodded off back towards the trade section of town. *** ¡°Ah, that feels so much better to look at than a blank profession section.¡± Ian looked down at the character sheet in front of him with a contented smile. Name: Anarch Race: High Elf Class: Novice Level: 3 HP: 120 MP: 170 Strength: 10 Agility: 10 Vitality: 12 Intelligence: 16 + 1 Wisdom: 12 Spell Hit: 86.75% (against lvl 3 mobs) Spell Power: 17 Crit Chance: 5.17% Unspent Skill Points: 3 Active: Racial: Innervate Blessing of Intelligence (1/20) Healing Light (1/20) Passive: Dagger Proficiency (1/20) Sword Proficiency (1/20) Stave Proficiency (1/20) Primary: Jewelcrafting (1/200) Tailoring (1/200) Secondary: Enchanting (1/200) Runecrafting (1/200) Tertiary: Mining (1/200) Skinning (1/200) Quaternary: None General Professions: Lockpicking (1/200) Cooking (1/200) Fishing (1/200) Triage (1/200) Literacy (1/200) His reasoning for the order of his professions was carefully planned out. In Turen, the primary two professions receive a 25% bonus to leveling speed. After that, each subsequent tier results in a -10% decrease to this bonus. Following this schedule, secondary would yield 15%, tertiary would yield 5%, and quaternary would yield -5%, etc. Turen was viewed with a ¡°long term¡± mindset by the people and the company, so the developers and the AI chose to not place a limit on the number of professions a player could have. There had already been several other VR games that did this, thus everyone had come to expect it. However, they instituted the graduated experience gain in order to encourage a sense of specialization into the market place. With enough time, a player could theoretically max out all of the professions, sure, but those last few would take years, because leveling a profession is not as easy as it appears. At higher levels, like the 180-200 range, a player may not have a recipe or design schematics with which to level it, so they basically can¡¯t do anything further until they either find an appropriate recipe on the Exchange or procure one through dungeons and raids. An interesting caveat to this rule was found out 5 years from now by a pair of real life friends who were discussing crafting outside the game. Previously, it¡¯d been proven that players could only craft a recipe or design that they¡¯d seen before. In order to skirt the high prices of designs, people had tried all kinds of methods in order to share or sell what they knew. However, every time they tried to go around the system in-game, they failed. It wasn¡¯t until these two friends discussed the crafting design outside of the game, down to the letter, and tried to create it from scratch when they logged back in that something unique happened: recipe discovery. The second player had managed to successfully craft the item from scratch, earning a +1 to his profession level in the process. Perhaps other guilds had already known about this possibility and just kept themselves, or maybe it was a newer feature that the game instituted - no one knew for sure. What it did lead to was an era of experimentation and design and a decreased reliance on the system-assist crafting function. It was later determined that a recipe was only discoverable if a) the player was in the right profession level range for the item and b) he or she had had no prior interaction in the game that discussed the process of creation. It was a strange loophole that maneuvered players into spending more of their time outside the game to memorize recipes and designs so that they could receive the bonus profession level points. Clever marketing strategy? Was it the game AI who tried to make them do that, or was it the developers? No one would fess up to it, but players had their suspicions which they rarely ever tried to follow up on. General Professions were altogether different from the others.. They did not receive this graduated experience gain and instead leveled at 100% of what the devs considered ¡°normal¡± profession speed, nor did they have recipe discovery. This enabled any and all players to pick these up and pursue at their leisure. In fact, many players who came to the game were more interested in the fishing and cooking aspects than anything else, sometimes opening stalls or restaurants to sell what they produced. For Ian, he¡¯d chosen the order listed for the express reason that crafting professions were the hardest to level by far. Tailoring and Jewelcrafting would benefit him the most in the long run followed by Runecrafting and Enchanting, so he naturally chose those four to have the highest bonus tier possible. As for the tertiary section¡¯s gathering skills, they directly supported his main crafting professions. Tailoring actually used a fair bit of materials from animals and creatures - the rest, the cloth in other words, had to be created or found on humanoid mobs. Only these types would drop cloth and different level mob tiers would drop different quality cloth. In fact, this was the rule for all gathering professions. Each zone and creature had what is referred to as a drop table, a list of possible things that could spawn or drop when a mob is killed. For example, the Iceblood Vine that he ran into during his first grinding session was a 1-10 area herb. It could appear in higher level areas, but really it was mainly found in starting zones that were icy and had winter climates. That boar, if skinned, would give Light Tundra Leather, or Light Tundra Leather Scraps if he was unlucky. When he leveled up to the 11-20 area and could finally grind there, he would encounter a whole new different drop table of mobs and gatherables. The plan was to gather and mine whatever he came across to go ahead and be working up his professions alongside his level. It wasn¡¯t the fastest method to gain levels of course, but it was the most efficient, and Ian was all about efficiency. He¡¯d rebuilt the Reformed Anarchist Movement from the ground up on this principle, and it was likely the only reason they¡¯d been able to grow to be such a large thorn in the US government¡¯s side. While Marcus and Ian walked down the road back to their previous hunting ground, the latter pulled up the new gear that was sitting in his inventory just waiting to be equipped. Red¡¯s Skinning Dagger 4 - 7 damage Requires level 3 Vest of the Budding Mage 15 Armor +2 Vitality +2 Intelligence Requires level 5 Leggings of the Wand Jockey 14 Armor +1 Vitality +3 Intelligence Requires level 5 Bracers of Fizzle Power 8 Armor +3 Intelligence Requires level 7 Simple Jack¡¯s Cape 6 Armor +2 Vitality +4 Intelligence Requires level 9 Gloves of the Wannabe This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.12 Armor +4 Vitality +3 Intelligence Requires level 9 These were the cheapest, best pieces of gear he could find - besides, of course, the white dagger. His staff was than-, er, unfortunately busted. Each went for around 10 silver because they¡¯re so low level. The only thing that made him crack up was the names of the pieces. It wasn¡¯t that different from when he¡¯d played before, but were the names really that absurd last time? He couldn¡¯t wear them yet, but at least he could stay out and grind until level 10. He¡¯d also picked up 4 bags that had 12 slots each, but those were pretty cheap at this point. The game had already been out for a year and a half - it¡¯s not like those were anywhere near being the best quality bags out there. Judging by the creator credits on them, the same tailor had made all four of the ones that he bought. He or she was probably trying to use the bags as the best way to both level up their Tailoring and also make a bit of coin while they¡¯re at it. In no time at all, the pair reached the edge of the clearing where he¡¯d killed Icetusk. Ian suddenly thought of something and turned to the barbarian templar beside him. ¡°Marcus, I forgot to tell you something kind of important¡­¡± Marcus scrunched up his face. ¡°Is it that you¡¯re being hunted?¡± Ian was alarmed. He immediately thought through it and started scanning his surroundings before turning back to Marcus. ¡°How did you know?¡± Well¡­¡± The templar scratched his beard after crossing his arms. ¡°We¡¯ve had this persistent little shadow following us. They never get close enough for me to identify the level or gender though. Just the one following.¡± ¡°Shit.¡± Ian said simply while a shiver ran down his spine. If the agents found him now, his chances of surviving for long would be practically nil once they started to employ their guild resources. He brought his voice low with a grimace, ¡°Can you tell where they are now?¡± The templar nodded and then turned to cut his eyes towards the road behind him nonchalantly. Ian immediately positioned his body to face that direction and cupped his hands as he shouted with a slight french accent, ¡°I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s just a misunderstanding that you¡¯re following us, but is there something we can help you with?¡± A few moments passed before a ripple of shadows unfolded by a large coniferous tree near the road. Trace wisps of smoke and indistinct shadow drifted away until it revealed a lithe figure that stared with piercing light brown eyes. The mouth was covered by a scarf below and masked the majority of the face. All of the figure¡¯s garb was designed around being nondescript and casual, but he could tell by the animation of leaving stealth that the person was at least level 50 and had spent a great deal of skill points towards stealth. Ian sucked in a breath of cold air once he saw the hair peeking out from under the hood. It was her! It had to be! She walked forward cautiously until she was about 20 feet away from the pair, all the while scrutinizing Ian¡¯s face with this analyzing gaze, like she was trying to extract some secret. The closer she got, the crueler her eyes became, but never lost their inquisitive light. Seeing this, Ian felt a little better. Such an expression would never appear on agents familiar with his picture. A faint, melodic voice came out through her mask, ¡°Are you Ian Czolgosz?¡± Ian squinted his eyes suspiciously and then tilted his head. ¡°That anarchist guy from America?¡± He continued to use his accent, fervently hoping that she would give up. ¡°You must be,¡± she sneered, her honeyed voice bottoming out into one filled with venom. ¡°I¡¯ve been tailing you long enough to hear how you speak. What normal player would bother to alter their voice only when they get approached by someone following them? In any case, I don¡¯t believe that there¡¯s someone who looks exactly like the World¡¯s #1 Most Wanted to such an extent.¡± Ian released the tension from his shoulders and wiped the look of confusion from his face. This fucked up his plans so much. He sighed, ¡°In the flesh. What can I do for you?¡± Her eyes flashed with hatred as she flung herself at him. ¡°Bastard, you can die!¡± Ian backpedaled, but the hairs on his neck instantly rose when she disappeared in a puff of shadow. In an instant, she used the rogue ability Shadow Teleport to appear behind him, whipping up the snowdrift into a white vortex that flung it everywhere like a . Slowing himself, he tried to fling himself forward to avoid the backstab. Time seemingly slowed down as his head turned to the side, watching the blade approach his spine. A cold harrumph came from the side. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough of that.¡± Marcus finished casting his spell Aegis and a bubble of pure divine energy appeared around Ian¡¯s body, blocking the dark blade that had almost reached its target. The templar then dropped his shield in front of his body and blurred, launching a Shield Charge point blank. All at once, Ian turned around and watched the two fly across the snow, leaving a trough five feet wide until they arrived at a nearby tree. A dull thud rang out and the girl slumped to the ground with a pain-filled moan. He couldn¡¯t see the prompts since he hadn¡¯t actually gotten into contact with her yet, but Ian could tell that she¡¯d be stunned. Striding over, he patted Marcus shoulder and then heaving a breath to calm his beating heart. That was the third time today that he almost died. Seeing she was coming out of her daze, he couldn¡¯t help but say, ¡°Why the hell do you want to kill me anyway? I have no idea who you are!¡± ¡°The name¡¯s Anna. Anna Waters.¡± She grit her teeth as she put a hand on the trunk of the tree, pushing her body up into a half kneeling position. ¡°I¡¯m the daughter of the policeman you murdered a year ago at that Electric Plant in Pennsylvania!¡± A flood of memories came back to Ian¡¯s mind as he stared into those raging eyes. The Electric Plant was one of the first acts of what the government classed as domestic terrorism. His newly formed group had targeted that town because it didn¡¯t have any vital services linked to the grid there like a hospital. The town was supposed to be an easy public demonstration to get people¡¯s attention, because who doesn¡¯t get pissed and want to know why the power¡¯s gone off? The problem was that it went wrong from the get-go. A policeman had followed them because he¡¯d seen some of their duffel bags when they were loading up earlier that day at a cheap motel. Deciding to play it safe, he¡¯d followed and inevitably called in backup when he saw what Ian and his cohorts were doing. After Ian had made sure that the plant went down, they ran for it, finally getting shot at by the police as the distance widened. It was only by using Ian¡¯s contingency plan that they were able to escape. Later on, he¡¯d heard that an officer had been gunned down, but it was impossible that they had done it. The news had been hard on him. They¡¯d never been involved with the death of another human before that day. He shook his head at the furious girl and kneeled down to look at her on the same eye level. ¡°The first time I killed an officer of the law was February 16th, 2098, after they shot and killed my best friend. The Pennsylvania demonstration happened in November of ¡®97. Hell, we didn¡¯t even have guns that day!¡± ¡°Liar!¡± she screamed, hot tears in her eyes. She¡¯d ripped off the scarf at this point to get a deep breath, revealing a perfect pair of lips that tragically uttered, ¡°They showed us footage of you turning around with a gun in your hands!¡± ¡°That was a stun gun!¡± Ian spoke coldly, an icy feeling seeping into his heart. ¡°If it looked like a real gun, then I can only say that they doctored the video, because we did not have real guns on us that day.¡± ¡°Liar!¡± ¡°Listen!¡± Ian¡¯s eyes drilled into her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that your father died. I really am. But I was not the one that did it.¡± That statement made her rage all the more and Marcus had to step in, threateningly baring his sword halfway out the scabbard. In the end, all she could do was weep and stab at the ground with her dagger. After watching her vent, Ian stood up and turned away, rubbing his hands together to create warmth. ¡°I asked around after that incident. You want to know what the cops said? That it was friendly fire, but the government told them to hide that detail in the report. It¡¯s a lot cleaner to pin the blame on a budding ,¡± Ian spat out the word, ¡°than be truthful. It¡¯s embarrassing to their public image, after all.¡± He looked back at the kneeling girl. ¡°I don¡¯t why your father had to die that day, but I want you to know I¡¯ve always admired him. Everything about him and his life declared that he was good man, heads and shoulders above the rest. That kind of thing is so rare in public service these days... Anna.¡± At the sound of her name, she looked up with puffy red eyes. They were like swirling pools of hatred framed by a surreal beauty. Her cheekbones, her perfectly proportioned eyebrows, even the way her chin was shaped was fascinating. Had he ever seen such an angelic face before? The only imperfection was the grief that warred against the desire for retribution. With as much sincerity as he could muster, he looked back into that overwhelming sadness and denied it the closure it wanted. ¡°I did not kill your father.¡± With one last sob, Anna dropped her head downward. The tears on her cheeks detached and fell to the snow below. With one last groan of frustration, she suddenly dissolved into ash, the subtle breeze that flowed between the evergreens surrounding them picking up the particles and scattering them in the air. Marcus leapt forward with wary eyes. ¡°Shit, she has Vanish!¡± Ian waved a hand. ¡°Let her go. She needs time to process the information I gave her today, anyway. After that... I doubt she¡¯ll be a threat to us anymore.¡± The templar sheathed his readied sword but kept his tower shield out, poised to launch another Shield Charge should she try to get the drop on them again. Meanwhile, the breeze had finished picking up all of the ash it could. A few strands even lazily landed in Marcus¡¯ wild black beard. Ian straightened his robe, which was getting a rather uncomfortable chilly draft from the disturbed air flowing by his feet, and started plodding through the accumulating snow towards their boar paradise retreat. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I want to get to level 5 before we head back for the night.¡± Grunting, the templar turned and followed along behind the high elf novice. *** In a town across the world, five portals opened up simultaneously right in the middle of the town square. With a flashing view of a tunnel made of light, five figures materialized at the same time. Agent Anton Gray swept his eyes back and forth over the fantasy world and people set before him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Turning to his squad, he called out to them. ¡°Roger, Mikhail, Candice, Eliza...you all good?¡± He got back several nods whereas Eliza tousled her hair, throwing a flirtatious look back at him. A small smile cracked the edges of his lips. He¡¯d had to pull some strings to get this particular field agent to come to his team. Practically every agent in the country wanted in on this deal. Hunt the world¡¯s #1 terrorist while playing a video game? Yes, please. He check his own person and noted the beginner warrior gear that adorned his body. It was just a few pieces of mail armor accompanied by a sword and buckler. Anton had been briefed on the game for the better part of half a day. After learning that tank classes were the core of every team, he¡¯d felt that it was obvious what role he had to play and picked a human paladin straightaway. In fact, all of his teammates had picked the human race, come to think of it. Strange. ¡°Sound off your classes.¡± They¡¯d all coordinated roles beforehand, but there were a multitude of ways to go about it, so they allowed for a good deal of freedom. Roger looked perpetually bored. He had these pair of lazy eyes that regarded the world with mute apathy. Other than that, the best way to describe him is tall, lanky, and slimy, like the greasy kind that gives women the creeps when he slicks back his black hair. Gray was almost convinced that the man was a contracted felon masquerading as an agent, despite the numerous reassurances he¡¯d gotten from the Director. Waving a hand, Roger pulled out a staff. ¡°Mage, here.¡± Candice stepped forward next, her short blonde hair hardly reaching down to the eyebrows that sat on top of a face that was the very definition of the word ¡°stern¡±. She had this imposing air of discipline that was always around her and a ¡°no nonsense¡± attitude that gummed up the other squadmates¡¯ attempts to be friendly. Anton had read that she was one of the ones who¡¯d served in the 4th World War and participated in the subjugation campaign of the southern american countries. 90% of her file was redacted, but he had been able to gather that, except for her, the entire platoon where she was stationed had met a gory end in the amazon. How she inevitably made it to the FBI, he had no clue. Reporting in military fashion, she replied, ¡°Sir, I chose a strike druid,¡± and then immediately morphed into a giant black mamba that coiled up until it was eye level again with everyone. Its scales were as black as night and shined in the waning sunlight with a hint of the sunset¡¯s golden red. A drop of venom glistened on the tip of a fang as Candice unfolded them experimentally and bared them at the group for inspection. The wide, gruff agent stepped forward next. Mikhail was a second generation Russian American. His parents had fled into the icy waters of the East Siberian Sea after the foot riots of Logashkino, surviving aboard a rat-infested freighter all the way to the Bering Strait where they managed to plead onto a passing American cruise liner. From there, they rode all the way back down to Oregon where they applied for refugee asylum, and then later citizenship. Mikhail grew up wanting to serve the nation that saved his family, so whenever Gray looked back into those pale blue eyes, he would see a man willing to die for the cause. He was a true patriot, unlike the RAMs that they¡¯d constantly had to hunt. Mikhail gave a nod and took out a giant two handed hand. ¡°Barbarian here.¡± Anton was secretly pleased at the fit. A true warrior needed to be on the frontlines at all costs. Anything else would be a waste of his potential. Last, but not least, Eliza cutely stepped forward and produced a staff with a flourish. She was an auburn haired college grad who¡¯d also just graduated from the academy. Gray had met her when he¡¯d gone to give a short presentation on counter-terrorism inside American border. He¡¯d felt that they¡¯d really hit it off, so when everything had played out the way it did, he rushed to get her in on it. The way he looked at it, this was a leisurely turkey shoot, not some pressing manhunt. The fugitive was trapped and no longer had a body to return to. What was there to fear? They may as well enjoy their time in the game. Feeling the rough grain of the Crude Staff, she winked and said, ¡°Cleric. I¡¯ll be healing all you fools, so be good to me okay? I expect lavish meals as compensation for timely heals.¡± Shaking his head, Anton was just about reply to her nonsense when hurried steps came from behind him. Turning around, he was greeted by an imposing man in full plate. Once the figure saw that they were already there, he sighed in relief and walked up to them. Sticking out a hand, he offered, ¡°Agent Gray?¡± Receiving a nod he went on, ¡°Nice to meet you all. My name is Claude and I¡¯m a part of the Valorous team. I help run guild operations and scheduling. If you¡¯ll come this way, we¡¯ll get you set up with some equipment and money so that you can get started.¡± Smiling appreciatively, Anton fell in where the rest of his team, Candice having transformed back into human form, and walked down the heavily crowded street. Gazing around at the bustling stalls and players who talked animatedly with each other, he paused to feel the hot Turen sun on his skin with closed eyes. Opening them back up, he caught a disappearing glance from Eliza who hurriedly looked back towards Claude as he talked about the city and its history. He could tell. He was going to like it here.