A/N: Demon Slayer, selling you pure bred dead puppies, now at thirty percent off!
TheAwesomess1: Godfree will prove you wrong someday!
NetherOrbit: Is that a KibaouxSachi ship I'm seeing? Sounds original!
Remember guys, I love reviews. Lemmie know whatcha think when/if you finish reading this.
Enjoy!
Want a [Unique Skill]? Congrats, so does everyone. Some of them are given when you maintain a percentage of stat investment, like Godfree with his crazy levels of [Vitality]. You can only possess two non-mastery related [Unique Skills]. This includes:
- Titan (Vitality)
- Marathon (Endurance)
- Juggernaut (Strength)
- Dual Wielding (Dexterity)
- Inner Focus (Agility)
- Lord of Change (Luck)
- Prodigy (Intelligence)
- (There's more, just haven't found them all yet!)
[Mastery] earned [Unique Skills] can be acquired without limitation, past of course the time needed to actually achieve such. I'm looking at you, master fishermen...so useful.
- Argo, December 14th, 2022
November 10th, 2022 5:28 AM - Town of Beginnings
A morning of misery awaited Lisbeth, an all too familiar head and stomach ache welcoming her back to a digital prison. With shaking hands she grabbed her temples, throbbing left her reeling on the bed, groaning loudly as she gripped the curls of her brown hair, eyes half opened.
Ow, ow, why's my head-oh yea. Dammit, need another.
Drawing a bottle of [Congregate Brandy], the half Scot attempted a quick remedy, tasting cheap liquor. Containers of similar fermented juice scattered across floorboards, emptied the night before. It wasn't long till she was down half a bottle, pain continuing to gnaw at her brain and core despite this. A piece of glass twisted in her stomach, unsatisfied by virtual drinks.
[You are now intoxicated]
[+5% Strength, Vitality]
[-10% Dexterity, Intelligence]
Grief brought Lisbeth to downing more, desperate to find an end to the momentary grief. The notice, however, didn't end her plight, something the brunette noticed right away, contents emptied. Tossing the bottle in frustration, broken glass scattered along the floor, fragments reflecting leaking morning sunlight.
It won't work, why isn't it working? I've drank a whole bottle, me hands are still shaking. I've made a mess too, perfect.
Lurching over, Lisbeth hobbled back and forth, a combination of aches leaving her overwhelmed as another familiar feeling came, purging. While a trash bucket existed, her attempts didn't register in-game. In reality, however, her body continued the process regardless, much to a hospital nurse's surprise.
Lisbeth shook, eyes wide as a sharp cold hit her face, lingering like a wet towel.
"Ugh that shit's rank!" she cried out.
Soreness and drowsiness, aftershocks of a hangover. Freckled cheek rested on wood, energy gone from vile expunging, eyes closing. Such respite didn't last, Lisbeth waking again in an unfamiliar land, beside a rented bed, very little money, and only one goal.
I need more, gonna be off me trolley if I don't find a bevvy.
A menu inspection proved her fears true, its log out switch broken. Heat flowed faster from her face, efforts to change accelerating Lisbeth's decisions. While quiet, the outside was packed with fear ridden masses, huddled together for safety.
Getting up, a lack of coordination generated by the game had her stepping on bottles, her efforts to remain balanced resulting in an inevitable collapse. Her freckled face met wooden floorboards, brown eyes dulled from drowsiness and drinking as her hands adhered to sticky patches, poked by bits of broken glass.
Oi, gonna be one of those days, ain't it? Come on, get goin', ya lazy git.
Lisbeth slogged, brushing off sharp pieces as she left the rented room, the key vanishing from her inventory the second she stepped out into the world she and hundreds of thousands occupied. Wearing a small brown cloak, she attempted to hide her discomfort, even if her body language and awkward gait proved it.
The creak of wood sounded so loud, worsening an already stifling headache, ruining coordination further as she passed others. While most were preoccupied with their own dilemmas, even the slightest glance from unfamiliar faces was enough to send her down a sinkhole of self critique.
I look awful, should go back to bed. Got no makeup, got a bloody hangover, and I'm still trapped. Stop bein' so pathetic, they'll bug me. Why didn't I put on makeup yesterday mornin', they'll see me freckles like every other flaw I got. No, stop that. I'm beautiful as I am.
Her hands clenched, fingers tight against her pale palm as she struggled downstairs. While her real brain didn't feel the bump of descending, Lisbeth still winced out of habit. That being said, she quickly found the sting absent, one positive fact she appreciated.
What am I even doin'? What am I gonna do today? Might just sleep, I dunno. Wait, why ain't I sleepin'?
Gazing upon her, strangers kept their distance, fearing a sudden reaction from the mistress, who appeared fairly drunk. Lisbeth veered her sight away, mind concluded on what thoughts passed their minds.
They're gonna laugh at me eyes again, how me nose's too big. How about making fun of me accent, softies could never handle anyone different. Even the worst English git I've met's better than these. Don't need their approval, don't need it.
"Aye let's have a good time 'ere!" she forced a smile, drawing a wooden bucket.
To her surprise, none of it came out right, her state scrambling her speech. Stepping down those stairs turned into an arduous task, despite persistence. Short, ebony brown hair skirted around, pin held bangs long enough to shroud her eyes should they ever be freed. With focus, however, she made it to the ground floor, almost stumbling down.
The main room of the inn was filled with the hopeless and depressed, many of them resorting to tactics Lisbeth used far before the hostage situation began. Seeking levity, the brunette lifted the bucket, approaching the bartender.
"Hey, what're you doing with that?" the bot growled.
Hearing what sounded like awareness, Lisbeth dropped the bucket anyway. The wooden container shot out like fuse-less rocket, causing immediate chaos as it rebounded off tables, open bar stools, players. Knocking down drinks, however, she suddenly felt a tinge of regret.
"Oops!" she cried out.
"Hey!" others shouted. "I paid for that shit!"
Cheeks reddened, eyes darting to corners, that same bot looking to her with great displeasure.
"I'm gonna have to clean that up cause of you, get out!"
Lisbeth refused to stay, fearful of punishment yet to be received.
[You have committed Public Indecency]
[-1 Reputation]
[+1 Reputation (Ruffians)]
Sunlight stroked her freckled cheeks, brain squeezed down a tube by hammer from exposure. Preoccupied by this, she wandered the crowded, lonely streets. Watching others guzzle down beverages left her already parched self craving more. A stray whistle caught her attention, Westerners hungry in their gazes.
"Sup girl." one smiled. "Whatcha doing alone on these streets?"
"Excuse me?"
[Intoxication] slurred her speech, resulting in only a quizzical stare from the guy. A sudden heaving feeling from her stomach, however, left her in the motions, deterring the previously attracted male with revulsion.
"That's gross, man..."
Gripped with peculiar insecurity, Rika rose up again, shivering despite scantly remembering his face. The laughter of two unrelated individuals leaving another inn grabbed the brunette's attention, her fears manifesting in the wake of her mentally weakened state, imagining one of them to be the insulting figure.
"Ugo doesn't even begin to describe that one. I mean, sheesh."
Drawing a [Wooden Club], the aggravated woman pursued them, albeit sluggish and uncoordinated.
I'll show 'em fer laughing at me. They're gonna apologize right now.
The pair of males stopped around a local street corner, chatting away as they leaned against a lantern pole. Completely unaware of their pursuer, they popped open new bottles of their own, trying to laugh away the grim environment. Closing the distance, the addict briefly paused, eyelids clamped shut as she lurched.
"Honestly, she's such a moron!"
While she didn't know who they were referring to, it didn't matter. In her eyes, vengeance had already taken the throne.
"Oi, ya wee bawbags!" Lisbeth called, "Stop that, right now."
The two males glanced, perplexed by the short, highly imbalanced Lisbeth standing before them. What made it harder for them, again was the slurring of speech, topped off with her accent. Left unknowing of the cause, let alone what she's saying, they simply backed away.
"There be a big mistake yer makin', laughing at me from behind." she pursued.
"What?" one blinked, "We were joking about something else."
"Quit yer lyin', wanker."
"We were laughing about memes, not you." one defended.
"Aye, now yer bum's out the windae." she cursed, "Tell ya what, gimmie some Cor and I'll forgive ye."
Unbeknownst to her, however, a [Town Guard] was walking by, only a few meters from the loud brunette. With her threats easily audible, the officer was quick to make his approach.
"Ma'am, may I ask what're you doing?" he growled, his bronze chainmail bright in the morning sun.
Lisbeth looked with annoyance, feeling that no one's listening.
"I'm gettin' rid of a nasty headache, ya stupid sod."
"Really, because it sounded like you were trying to extort these two."
Seeing an escape behind authorities, the two yielded. While they barely understood what she said, deference was given without question.
"Officer, she was." one nodded.
"And your weapon is out, interesting." the guard noted, "Ma'am, really sorry to say this, but that's not appropriate behavior."
Lisbeth frowned, her still very shaky hands barely clutching the club.
Look what you've done, Rika. Why would ya do this to 'em, they weren't even laughin' at ya!
Her headache worsened, the awkwardness of the situation bringing her to tears, sitting on the pavement as she shook.
"Please, I need a drink." she sobbed, "Just one, I promise I'll leave ye alone. It hurts so bad, dammit."
By this time, the males she confronted had retreated, Lisbeth's instability quickly warding them off.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean nothin'!" she called out to muted ears.
Others passed in capricious indifference, steering clear of the crying woman on the ground, another familiar feeling. The world shrank in Lisbeth's eyes, as if stuck on the side of an empty road, the next drink her only next stop. Remaining vigilant was the watchman, keeping eyes on her the whole time.
I need it, my stomach hurts so bad.
Picking up her club again, Lisbeth rushed to the closest person in her area, brandishing the weapon with eyes burning.
"I need money, I'm losin' it here! Please?"
[You have committed Extortion!]
[-5 Reputation]
"Alright, that's enough."
Lisbeth's fury was met with a simple notice, the woman she charged fleeing for her life.
[Pay fine: 300 Cor]
[Go To Jail]
[Resist Arrest]
A lack of funds and will to fight narrowed her options, the embarrassment of her public display leading her to a swift sentence.
[Sentence: 9:56 minutes remaining]
Her choice was made, Lisbeth's items stripped away as she was locked behind bars. Thrown into the darkness of a dimly lit cell, she wept in an attempt to resolve the conflict crushing her insides on an assembly line of mallets.
I'm bein' so mean, this headache's killing me. I wish I could stop, but it hurts so bad, feels like I'm taking a drill bit to the skull.
Her stomach tightened further, converting to a twisting sensation as deprivation worsened. Curling into a corner, she sprawled on the moist stone, writhing for relief in the lonely cell, switching back and forth between rage and depression every new second.
"Oi, whatcha cryin' for, love?"
Lis stopped, glancing back out.
"It's only a few minutes, right? Bloody relax."
The guy chuckled lightly, a blonde and tall male waiting patiently in his cage. Hearing the English accent, Lisbeth shook her head.
"Hm, hope the situation's not gettin' to you. Name's Oran."
Lisbeth groaned, clutching her stomach as she inched to the cold iron of her choices.
"Lisbeth...why...why're ya-"
"In here? Glad you asked!" Oran laughed, "Girl forgot to turn [Ethics Code] off, thought it'd be funny to send me here. Got another ten before I'm out again...Christ, Graye's gonna kill me."
He stretched, leaning against the bars.
"How about you? Look like you shat yourself. Were ya fightin' Geese?"
"No, it's cause I'm too nice." Lis winced, clutching her stomach.
"A nice Scot? Bollocks, there's only bad Scots or great Scots. Better a bad Scot though than a French. Christ, met too many o' those. So really, love. Why here? You look bloody hungover."
What stung the most, more than the grief of a booze hungry stomach, was knowing the meaning. Lisbeth knew the predicament it presented, fighting mentally every day to just put a bottle down. With the allure of pain relief, however, even she felt sometimes utterly helpless.
"I'm really parched, got a bevvy?"
Oran looked to her, eyebrows raised as he leaned his head back against the wall.
"Nope. Not when I'm out either. Spent it all on upgrades."
"Ugh..." Lisbeth griped, crying quietly, "On what though?"
"My [Tree Branch]."
"Eh?" she tilted her head, forced to brush her bangs aside with the loss of her hairpins.
"Yea, seemed like a good idea...till it broke." he laughed softly, twisting himself till his spine started popping repeatedly.
The brunette winced, listening as Oran's back crackled repeatedly, as if the whole vertebral column was loosening.
"Ooh yea, replicated that too. Ooh this'll be better than I thought."
Lisbeth stayed quiet, though nodding to the strange Englishman.
There's gotta be a way to make money here...I can't be doin' that. It's not right, I know better than that. Quests would be a good start, maybe fight some mobs? Wait, but the first bottle didn't work. What's a second gonna do to fix that?
"You alright?" Oran quipped, resting against the stone.
Lisbeth said nothing.
"Oh, well time's up. Take care, love." he waved, vanishing into a sphere of blue. "Gonna pay that dumb thot for this. Cheers to the best vacation of my li-!"
Just before vanishing, the blonde rose to his feet, hands straight as he held a Y shape with his arms outstretched, palms outward. With that, the brunette was alone. Thankfully the conversation eroded most of the time waiting. Lisbeth was warped back moments later, standing outside the double doors of Black Iron Palace. Sudden sunlight had her reeling, headache flaring again before easing moments later.
Not doin' that again, need to do somethin' more effective. Ugh, but what for? What if it doesn't work? Nah, was probably just a weak drink. Would I just stop? Oi, who's grabbing me?
She turned, but found no one remotely close to herself.
Not good...
Anxious Lisbeth turned east, going for the nearby [Town Board] for quests. Simple in design, NPCs posted their requests on the wooden forum, providing players a list of jobs available within their town.
"Hey, that guy's got gloves!" an elf called. "Guards, help!"
[Town Guards] rushed past Lisbeth, their bronze helmets shining like dull mirrors as they approached another player. Weapons were drawn immediately, the officials demanding his compliance in removing his hand protection. Other NPCs gathered, some secretly readying [Daggers].
The heck's this? They hate gloves or somethin'?
"He's clean."
The guardsman's call rippled through, a collective sheathing of weapons stirring a bit of concern in her. Approaching one of the elves, Lisbeth bowed her head softly.
"Excuse me, but what was that about?"
"Firebrands, bad luck in these parts." the bot spoke in a low voice. "You'd do well to avoid any of 'em, they burn souls."
Walking away from her, business returned as usual, albeit a panicked player reeling from the dramatic encounter. Putting aside the cryptic messaging, she continued to seek work. Having played this game for the four days since release, Lisbeth had already reached level three, investing most of her stats towards [Vitality], least until she got a grip on how to fight. Arriving at the nearest [Town Board], she found a huge gathering of Japanese players, taking notes of the quests available, communicating to each other the steps.
[You are no longer intoxicated]
On the approach the shakiness suddenly stopped, a feeling of calm seeping in as her headache dissipated. Lisbeth paused, alerted by the absurdly quick changes, smiling in the bliss of that moment.
"Ooh that feels so good!" she cheered, hands splayed up in momentary arrest.
Sighing softly, Lisbeth drew a small pouch of marbles, rolling out the cheap spheres all over the pavement. People either paid little heed to this or simply failed perceiving, either way the bucket was readied. Sadly no NPCs were present, meaning she had to reconsider. Luckily the reclaiming of lost marbles was simple, a system function warping every ball back to the original bag.
Hm, I'll find a use for these later.
What her reality failed to reveal was an IV application, most notably a minor dose of alcohol being applied to her body from the hospital accepting her last night. Feeling the pain stop, the bright flicker returned in her brown eyes. Reviling in respite, she felt a bit bolder as she moved through the crowd.
[Quests Available:]
[Milk Run (Daily)] [Recommended level: 1+]
[A Request from Harunka (Hourly)] [Recommended level: 3+]
Lisbeth accepted the second, already knowing the location of the first. Taking coordinates for the second quest led her to a building east of town. [Waytalon Trading Company], their simple equestrian and pack logo marked on a sign in front of their door. A repurposed barn, its venerable red wooden structure standing out sharply from the stone composing the rest of town.
Lisbeth entered, patches of the wood blackened in random patches. The entire space looked like a city of boxes and rope, woven together with knots and ties. With containers nearly reaching the ceiling, pulley enabled lifts allowed movement. Patches of hay lined pockets of the building, clearly meant for horses or other domestic beasts, yet strangely absent.
Players gathered near the large double doors pointed east, chatting to each other atop wooden prisms. To the middle of the venerable storage facility, a monocle wearing elf sat behind the desk, walls of papers shielding him from the incoming rays of sun an open door brought.
"Calling all hands, we got a shipment order waiting! Harunka doesn't have all day! All hands, all three of 'em, ya dorks!"
Stepping past Lisbeth, another player entered, seeming more curious of his environment than directed. The clerk spotted him, giving him his full attention with an elbow on his desk and a smile on his dry lips.
"You there, got a strong back? Stuff's gotta ship and it means money!"
"Oh um, yea." the guy said blankly, about as feeling as dried wood.
"Excellent, how aboutcha join this here caravan?" the clerk nudged, "You get one twenty if ya bring your [Crate] over to Harunka. Untouched, unopened, everythin' intact."
"Uh."
"Aye, where do I sign up?" Lisbeth smiled, stepping up with hands on her hips. "Got some [Strength]."
The clerk glanced to Lisbeth, his attention stolen less than a few seconds after speaking.
"Like the attitude, miss!" he extended a clipboard and feather. "You can sign right here. Long as you can carry it, you got the job."
[You've been invited to join a Waytalon Caravan. (9/10 spots filled)]
[Accept/Decline]
Eager to make money, she didn't hesitate hitting accept. Shortly afterwards, a docking bell rang, the nine other volunteers getting off their seated spots. Each were each given a large wooden [Crate], the contents within unknown to either of them. Strapped to their backs with awkward harnesses of leather and rope, it left everyone off balance, stumbling about with a two foot wide box.
Hm...maybe I should.
"Remember people, these boxes go to Harunka Village. People there're gonna be really ornery if ya don't show up with it!"
While others focused on the NPC, Lisbeth dumped marbles around the closed eastern doors, slipping back after concealing them thinly with stray hay.
"Got important stuff in those crates, so don't be late either!"
The barn's doors were unlocked, sliding open as the group gradually marched out. None expected their feet to slide, marbles causing several already troubled members of the caravan to trip, even breaking open [Crates] with loud cracks. All of this, directly in front of their overseer.
"By Cel's grace, someone's getting fired!"
Lisbeth's eyes widened a bit, looking distantly.
Uh...what kind of wood are they even made of?
Spilled along the ground were an assortment of objects, including weapons. A sweeping storm of apologies eased punishment, new [Crates] distributed within minutes. Recalling the marbles with a swift press, Lisbeth was sure to keep such truths hidden. The golden blades of Floor One's vista welcomed them minutes later, the bright sky of a partly clouded day warming their faces.
"Who the hell put those marbles there? I nearly lost rep for that." a front line carrier inquired.
"Doesn't matter, we're watching you all." a [Caravan Guard] growled.
Standard yellow gambesons indicated an escort of [Town Guards]. Two of these officials marched alongside the party, their tone reflecting the irritation of the caravan's sender back in town.
"God this weighs a ton." one whined.
"Ya, where're the horses? This is a caravan isn't it?" one piped.
"You're clearly new to town." one the guard's quipped, face hidden by helmet. "Don't you know the history of how we got here?"
"No?"
"Well then here's an abridged, the Taurus ate them all."
"What?" another cried. "That's horrible!"
"Yep, that's what General Ilioc had to go through to get us here. Eight foot tall beasts have freakish appetites, so horses were preferable compared to us. That's why you don't see any horses out here, won't find any from here to...probably Zumfut?"
Lisbeth grimaced slightly.
Poor horses...what's past this floor that's big enough to eat those?
"I'm freaking stuck in this game, thank you very much!" one whined, seeing the notice regarding time spent in-game. "Stop telling me how many hours I've played!"
The guards looked quizzically, their eyes locked on the complainer among them, who looked back with sudden alarm.
"Hey, show me your hands." one guard approached quickly, sudden in his change.
Lisbeth was quick to spot it again, a player wearing gloves. The guy didn't resist, showing all ten digits freely.
"If any of you sees a glover in town, let us know." one mouthed off, lowering his [Spear]. "Not having any of that weirdo stuff here."
Again with the gloves, can't for the life o' me fathom the reasoning for this. Oh, but what if there's magic?
The group continued on without further arguing, vague notions leading Lisbeth to questioning town culture. It seemed a bit paranoid underneath its layer of coastal splendor, its guards twitching at even the smallest divergence. Deeper matters were afoot, things she had the wisdom to not entangle herself in.
Grasslands as vast as lakes swayed around them, gargantuan islands floating gently above, bloating out the sun occasionally. People rarely spoke, keeping their heads down as they followed up the weed splotched stone road. Along the way, however, the caravan encountered a lone NPC, a [Prospective Bandit].
"Hey, hold up!" he called, his weapon still sheathed to his belt. "Wanna make a bargain?"
"Don't, they want the [Crates]." one guard growled.
The front guard, however, seemed far more lax, waving the bot over.
"They aren't threatening us, they know better."
Players looked to eachother, panicked by the sudden intrusion, the lack of immediate defensive reaction from their supposed protectors only boosting suspicions.
"Oi, that be a highwayman, sir!" Lisbeth called, "What're ya doin?"
More emerged, the rear guard groaning before stepping back. The first of the bandits approached Lisbeth, none of them pulling weapons, nor intruding personal space.
"Hey now, we ain't drawin' weapons. The request's simple, tradition really."
"What tradition?" Lis quarreled, "Why you gotta be so vague? Oi..."
"Boss's birthday, of course. Wouldn't wanna ruin it with a spillin' today, would we?"
Some turned to the [Town Guards] in protest.
"Aren't you gonna protect us?" another decried.
"When there's fifteen or more?" one shrugged, [Spear] planted. "Not worth it."
To their surprise, however, no weapons were drawn. The [Prospective Bandits] didn't surround, merely sticking to one side of the road, their boss calm as he paced back and forth.
"Alright folks, you know the drill." he waved, chin high as he grinned slightly. "Boss Allston here, your guards might know me by now. I wanna crate, just one. Got some good money here for any willing to 'forget' their shipment."
Lisbeth blinked, astonished by the lack of tension in any of the NPCs. While their presence was notable, the fact they weren't immediately hostile changed the playing field. Others drew back, alarmed by the demanding bot.
"How much are they paying ya? One?"
"One twenty." one replied weakly.
"Hm, well how about this." the leader pointed to the player beside Lisbeth. "Your crate, one fifty."
"You're criminals." the kid grumbled. "Gotta give it to Harunka Village."
The leader grinned, stepping up to the boy.
"I'm only a 'criminal' cause your governor's a wuss, gotcha? I'm my own man here, son. Follow my rules, and you win big! Besides." Allston put a hand on the player's shoulder, "I can always ask someone else." looking to the rest, "Am I right?"
Calls from the rest made it apparent, a lack of threat easing their minds. Presented with this, the boy yielded, giving the [Crate] to the bandit boss, sitting before uncoupling his harness. Converging around the container, the highwaymen cheered as their leader opened it up, using the claws of his [Warhammer] to pry the nails loose.
"Woo, look what we got here. You see that, Kingo?"
"Yes sir." another beamed.
A store of ingots resided inside, a mixed package of bronze and copper lurking inside.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about. Our smith's gonna love me tonight."
The player incurred a minus three penalty to his [Reputation] with [Waytalon], but a boost to his [Reputation] with [Ruffians]. Receiving his pay, the boy frowned, harness empty. With that, the gang left without further harm. Traversing further along the cobbled road, Lisbeth patted the seller on the back.
"Oi, go on back to town. That rep's an easy fix."
"It feels wrong, what would my friends think?" he whined.
"They'd think yer a bleedin' idiot if ya didn't." Lis smirked, "Go on, no point in the trip. Ya already got paid."
Agreeing, the member left the [Caravan], racing back to town. Further up the path, however, Lisbeth started to feel a familiar urge setting back in. Fearful, she kept quiet for the sake of self image.
Oh crap, no, no, no. Not now, not even halfway there yet. I don't need another drink, okay maybe I do, but now? Come on, I can wait!
Trees came into view, tall pines standing sharp against the golden sea south of themselves. While plenty of [Dire Wolves] were spotted further off the path, none dared approach, knowing full well the wrath of an antagonized group of bipeds. Lisbeth kept quiet, feeling the need for booze overpower her, eroding her common sense.
"Oi, any of you mates got a drink?" she called.
Some glanced back, but the rest ignored.
"Anyone?"
Absence of verbal cues left Lisbeth feeling further pressured.
"I-I'll give me [Crate] for one!"
Eyes turned, attention received from not only the players involved, but the NPCs as well. One of the guys slowed to match her pace, showing a full bottle of [Congregate Brandy]. For the thirsting Lisbeth, this was more than enough, passing him the wooden container. Within moments the bottle was hers, her incentive to follow the crowd reduced as she hastily popped off the cork. Moving past the drinking woman, the others barely noted the rising of the glass's bottom, Lisbeth distracted by the need to stifle her habit. Scope of the objective was lost, the act all consuming. It wasn't until minutes later did she realize it was empty.
[You are intoxicated.]
[+10% Strength, Vitality]
[-15% Intelligence, Dexterity]
Confidence returned, but the caravan away, Lisbeth's crate gone. Groaning, Lisbeth shook her head, having surrendered a hundred and twenty Cor for a drink costing ten at most.
I've made smart choices...this ain't one of 'em.
Frustration compelled her to throw the glass piece, the container shattering against a tree, leaving its fragmented contents reflecting the sun before vanishing.
[Quest Failed: A Request From Harunka]
[-3 Reputation - Waytalon]
Way to go, me. Wasn't even feelin' thirsty, should just farm some [Beach Geese] for cash.
Lisbeth turned back, discontent while following the road back in a disoriented gait. What took hours to reach was wasted, all for a single drink. The growl of [Dire Wolves], however, froze her in place. With hazy vision, even she could see that a pack had ambushed her.
They dared not attack a group, but it was not a group they found, but a stray. Six to one, her only option was to flee, sprinting further down the road in great distress, nearly tripping every few seconds as cost for drinking. Such predators proved quicker than her, flanking around and biting Lisbeth, individuals trying to drag her down by a lock on heels with teeth.
[HP: 88%]
"No! Get the fuck off!"
Shrieking, Lisbeth swatted the arm gnawing dog with her [Wooden Club], rushing to a nearby tree in a burst of fright, nails digging into bark as she tried climbing. A dozen yellow eyes, six rows of saliva glistened white teeth, one simple goal, to wound and feast. Her drunk state had her slipping frequently, the [Dire Wolves] quick to bite her more for her mistakes, tearing her sleeves every time.
[HP: 72%]
[HP: 56%]
"Stop that!" she cried out, forcing one away with a whack of her club.
Her heart kept racing, Lisbeth veering again to try and climb, her boot catching on to a hitch in the tree's bark. Just as she reached a foothold, wolves took hold and dragged her down. Screaming, all she could do was swing, her [Strength] stats resulting in a [Stun] or two, battering noses. Nonetheless, she was bitten, torn into without remorse.
[HP: 39%]
[HP: 24%]
Scottish blood within her, however, refused to yield. Kicking and flailing, Lisbeth eventually freed herself, tearing loose of their jaws. Shooting back up the tree, she climbed to the highest branch her little hands could grasp, gasping as her vision blurred from inebriation. Flicks of spit flew, the result of snapping lines of teeth, failing to snatch, scaring her to rising further heights.
"Not happenin', bitches!" she spat.
Climbing higher, she eventually found a nook to rest on, gripping the nearest and thickest branch for safety. [Dire Wolves] stopped jumping towards her, vaulting themselves to low hanging branches instead. Three failed, two kept watch of her, one succeeded. Making a cautious path towards her, its bright eyes directed, Lisbeth trying to retreat further. Another tree rested alongside hers, but not close enough to reach. She instinctively knew she had to jump, but rightfully feared her own lack of coordination. Fall damage was a factor, so she drank down a [Saint's Aid] potion.
[HP: 64%]
Just before she tried jumping, however, she heard a squeak. Checking beneath her, the branch wasn't cracking, it was a squirrel displeased with her being so close to its nest. The furred predator closed in, hesitant in its ascension. Trembling in despair, a new option arose to combat the question of survival.
"Aw, why?" she cried. "I dun wanna hurt you!"
Reaching a hand in the hole, Lisbeth snatched the little squirrel, the beast biting her hand as it shrieked in protest. With panicked eyes, she dropped the creature below, watching it race off, the wolves instinctively chasing the rodent across the forest floor, the sacrifice made. The clearing welcomed her, the brunette jumping down to escape.
I'm so sorry, Mister Squirrel! Run away!
The wolf closest to reaching her, however, hadn't dispersed, dogged in its efforts. Leaping down on her, however, its advantage in numbers was lost, a fact Lisbeth keenly knew. Raising her [Wooden Club], she clumsily rushed the [Dire Wolf], bashing its skull open with a couple of quick swings. With the shatter of glass, she sprinted away, vanishing from sight.
[Assassins], a whole new way to flame.
If you see those stalls around the exits of towns, then you should know them. They're [Mercenary] rental stores basically, giving us a wide variety of hired muscle to bring along with us, for a fee upfront and a daily if you wanna keep yours.
Unlike all these guys though, [Assassins] do not follow you if hired. Instead, they target a specific player (thankfully leveled for the target, yay game balance) and eliminate them. If a [Bounty] is placed on someone, then sending one of these dudes will result in them getting the money.
If the guy you targeted wins the fight (killing your murder hobo), then he'll get the name of who sent him, so no ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, people!
- Argo, Beta Tester's Survival Guide, November 20th, 2022
A/N: Lis be out clubbin' xP
Hey everyone, reviews are highly sought after since I accidentally jettisoned most of my reviewers out an airlock (was supposed to let them inside the ship...x.x) Favorites and follows are high appreciated, I will remember the right buttons this time.
See you all in a week!