Heralds- The Proving Grounds, page 5
The axe glanced off the daggers. Sam tried to back away but she fell backward onto the paving stones.
Bulorn’s axe had hooked her foot.
The shield careened downward as she lay on the ground, Bulorn’s voice rising.
The pitch changed in an instant. From anger and challenge to irritation.
Both of Sam’s daggers were buried in the forearm his shield was strapped to. She had ducked in closer, rather than trying to get away.
Her foot landed on the haft of Bulorn’s axe, driving it to the ground as she pulled her daggers free and sliced repeatedly in so close his hands were on the other side of her. He didn’t release his grip on the axe, though her foot kept it pinned.
There were some advantages to being small. Rare, but they existed. And Sam had had more than a year to learn them, especially in regards to The Proving Grounds and her chosen… profession.
Bulorn tried to get free, but the dagger blows kept on coming. He released the axe as he tried to push her away, but that only got him new cuts to his hand.
He fell to the stone floor of the open square a few moments later and lay still.
Sam rolled off of Bulorn’s fallen form. She regained her feet and sheathed her daggers in one fluid motion. She stretched her neck a bit. “Tanks.” She scoffed.
Jen shaded her eyes as she looked down toward the beach. If what Hank said was true, Bulorn should reappear there. At least, thats where they ended up when they teleported back here.
A few moments later a large human shape appeared there. She couldn’t make out many details at this distance, with the sun and the sand backing him, but it seemed to be Bulorn. And she would swear she caught a relieved sigh.
Sam was still holding her chin high when Bulorn made it back to the paved area. “You’re easily the feistiest rogue I’ve ever come across.”
She tilted her head. “Thanks?”
The monk rubbed at his chin. “Well, now that that’s out of the way… our mission is laid out before us. How shall we begin?”
Annabelle inclined her head toward the map room. “We scout. Check out the cities that are appearing. See what people are up to, try and overhear what they think. Maybe offer some help to win hearts and minds. Nudge people our way with words and deeds.”
Kail nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me. We aren’t grouped, so we should be willing to join up with others as the need arises, be it groups or guilds.”
Jen frowned. “How do we explain to people why we are leveling so much faster?”
“Ah.” The monk paused. “That is a problem.”
Sam shrugged. “Talk to people, but don’t go out fighting with them. Or if you do, try and be the third wheel. Follow the group but don’t be in the group. If you get close to leveling make a note of where you are, pop back here for the light show and then head back. It’s the effect that people will notice, not the number.”
“Well, there you go.” The monk inclined his head to Sam. “Quite right. Make friends, but none too close.”
Bulorn’s eyes were fixed on his previous corpse. It vanished once he had retrieved his things. He shivered before turning to face the others. “Be sure to keep moving. Let people know you have places to be. Make something up. Dinner date. Office lunch. Baby screaming in the other room. Normal reasons people hop up from the game.”
Annabelle nodded. “Makes sense to me. Be sure to knife a few things in passing, of course. We could use the levels.”
Jen followed the others back into the map room. They looked over the table for a few moments before each vanished to some distant place on their own. Jen and Sam were the last two left.
It was a lot to take in… the strange event, what they were supposed to do, how they were supposed to go about it, and having no knowledge that they were going to be involved until they were.
“Think I need something to eat. Back in a bit.”
She opened the menu and hit the button to log out before Sam could argue.
5
Someone was knocking on the door before Jen even had her helmet off. It took her a moment to get all the bits untangled.
Sam was waiting outside. She swept into the room as soon as the door moved. “Why did you lock the door?”
Jen shut the door again. “Because I can’t see with the helmet on.”
“Headset.” Sam plopped into the office chair. “It’s a ‘headset.’ ”
“My gravest apologies for offending your delicate sensibilities.”
“No big.” She shrugged as the chair spun. She stopped it when it faced the monitor on the desk. “So you kind of bailed in a hurry… what do you think about all this?”
“It’s… strange.”
“Super strange. On the other hand? Immortal. Immortal makes up for strange in my book.”
Jen moved the “headset” and sat on the edge of the bed. “Immortality is just one of the perks, though. We’re like… deputy game masters. That’s huge. And kind of important. We’re supposed to help with stuff.”
“Also we’re immortal.”
“You are really hung up on that.”
“How can you not be?” Sam tilted her head as she glanced back at Jen. “We’re demigods and you’re tripping over the rulebook. There wasn’t even much of a rulebook.”
“We’re not the only demigods, and the rulebook keeps the others from finding us. We aren’t immortal to them.”
“Bleh. Details.”
Jen shook her head. “I… don’t want to screw it up. I mean, I didn’t ask for the job, I suppose, but I like the game and I want things to go well for them.”
“Right. So we do that. We make things go well.”
“Uh-huh. How?”
“I dunno. Do what Hank says? Sounded like Annabelle had it figured out.” Sam was flipping through various websites. “Weird. The forums are down. And the company’s other forums, too.”
“They must be diverting resources to the login servers or something. Probably getting a lot of people hitting them. Ugh, I should have thought of that before I logged out… I don’t want to sit in a queue.”
“Son of a… I didn’t think of that. Shit. How did I let you talk me into logging out?”
“I didn’t talk you into anything. I logged out. You followed.”
“Psychological warfare tactics.” Sam tapped at the keyboard. “Fan sites should still be up, right? Unofficial.”
“You’d think.” Jen leaned back on the bed. She kept pillows piled against the wall on the far side of the bed to allow it to serve as a sort of long couch. She had limited space, so one learned to make do and double up on a things purpose where possible. “Social media, too.”
“Right.” Sam tapped away at the keyboard while Jen rubbed at her temples and tried not to think.
This was supposed to have been a relaxing week. It was going to be nothing of the sort, not if she did what was asked of her.
She could always… not do what was asked of her. She had that bag packed…
Sam would do it. But the question there was how good of a job she would do. She was as bloodthirsty as players came outside of mental institutions. Jen felt somewhat obligated to do her part just to make up for Sam’s not being done. Evening the cosmic scales so nothing occurred rather than something bad.
It wasn’t a nice thing to think… but there it was.
She glanced aside at the clock on the nightstand.
2:35 p.m.
“Damn. We should get some lunch.”
“Yeah, I ordered a pizza.”
“And yet… you’re here?”
“It’s coming here. Duh.”
Jen sighed.
She still felt… weird about Sam. And yet Sam seemed to be perfectly fine with her. Certainly something to be said for acceptance there, and it didn’t speak well of Jen.
There were times Jen would be content to never see Kevin again, and in those moments everything to do with him was included in the equation. Which included his little sister. Who was presently acting much more like a friend to Jen than she considered Sam in her mind.
Somehow… that made her sad.
She needed to do better.
Jen slid forward on the bed to lean toward the monitor. “So, what does it say?” Jen might not be as on board with all this, but Sam was. And Jen owed her. Even if her nose stud made Jen’s own nose itch the instant she turned to look back.
“Nothing about people like us… they must be keeping that on the down low. Some about the Tobin guy. He’s the big bad, the barbarian warlord. Offing him will end the event, so I guess that’s our goal in the long run.”
“Hank did say we shouldn’t jump straight to that. Ruin the event and all.”
“Fair. I do likes me some PVP.” Sam nodded to herself a few times, but her head paused and her eyes widened when she looked back at the monitor. “Oh, damn.”
“Hmm?”
“Kingslayer.”
“Er… what?”
“It’s a title. Whoever kills Tobin Ironblood gets the title Kingslayer. I wonder if I’m eligible? I really, really want that.”
“Why?”
Sam looked back over her shoulder, one eyebrow practically touching her hairline. “Because it would tell everyone who sees me that I killed a king. I’d have work for-goddamn-ever.”
“Right,” Jen nodded, “you fancy yourself a hit man. How could I forget?”
“A hit woman, thank you. Hit lady? Hit person. Screw it, hit man is fine.”
“Really doubt we can get that. Super advantages and all.”
“Not against him.” Sam pointed at the monitor. “He has to have everything we do, he’s part of the event. It will be a fair fight. Hell, it may be the only good fight I get…”
“Eh… maybe?”
“Totally going to ask.”
Well, at least Sam had a goal. Jen wasn’t at all sure what she planned to do with the special status. By the time she had made it into the beta cities were already set up and competing for resources. Not to mention the lack of open PVP meaning one could adventure without the significant chance of being murdered before you knew someone was murdering you.
Of course, she still could. It still didn’t seem entirely fair…
But maybe she could use that.
Sam had every intention of continuing her targeted death spree, which was fair given her class and inability to make another character. It was what she did. What made her feel useful and like a contributing member of society.
Or at least a contributing member of the mafia.
Not that Jen was going to judge her for that. It was her thing and, by all accounts, she did it well.
Jen just needed her own reason to play. She had a few ideas…
She had picked paladin to annoy Sam and try out melee. Those reasons in that order. She certainly hadn’t planned on it being her only character for the foreseeable future, but that’s how it had worked out.
She could make due. In fact… as her abilities meant she could take risks others could not, it seemed like the perfect class.
Her mission was to win minds and hearts to their side. The best way to do that was to be someone people wanted to side with. To make the choice easy.
Simple enough.
Jen snatched up her phone from its place on the nightstand. Most web sites kind of half worked with a mobile browser, but Sam was using the only computer available.
It took her a moment to find information on the paladin class. She flipped through a few pages for a general idea before going back to the start.
She glanced up at Sam. “Whats the ETA on that pizza?”
Pizza is pretty much entirely bad for you. That’s why it smells so damned good.
Jen’s nose hung in the air over the box as she opened the door for Sam. “That has to be some kind of record.”
“Ghost town campus. Guy just looked for some cars out front. I mean, how hard is it to look for the numbers?”
Jen had taken over the computer when Sam left. She had a few new browser tabs open to pertinent information, and she made sure to plop back into the chair before Sam could take it over again.
Paladins were primarily defensive in nature. They commonly used shields and heavy armor, though they could opt to forgo either or both if the player was crazy. Some swore by using two handers to up the paladin’s offense, especially if they were not acting as a group or raid tank, which sort of made sense. Others claimed using medium or even light armor upped their movement speed to the point they could avoid blows rather than soak the damage.
While that might be a great idea any other time… one probably wanted to err on the side of survivability, and armor meant surviving if you misjudged something and had to eat some damage.
Even with a two hander their damage was not great. They could be built in such a way as to be on par with DPS, but only DPS who were not solely speccing their character to increase their damage output. Which was a nice way to say terrible DPS players.
Paladins did have some magic at their disposal, though most of it was also defensive in nature. Healing, armor buffs, that sort of thing. Clerics got some ranged smite things, and paladins did too, but by the time they got them they were more about aggroing a distant target than doing damage.
The kicker was that their damage, regardless of the source, was considered magical after level twenty five, which was the halfway point to the level cap. It meant she would have an easier time fighting certain enemies like ghosts and wisps that required magical damage at a time when those were starting to be common threats and everyone else was scrambling to find magical weapons.
Well, except monks. Their fists counted as magical damage from level ten. Because… chi? Something. She wasn’t familiar with monks. She was only just now familiar with paladins. And familiar didn’t mean much since she was pretty damned sure she still wouldn’t understand late game minmaxing or theorycrafting.
But she’d get there.
Baby steps.
Sam always ordered olives on pizza. Jen could certainly do without… but she hadn’t ordered it or paid for it, so she didn’t have any room to complain. She hopped up when she realized Sam had left the box out of reach.
Tricksy hobbitses.
“Don’t close my tabs. Learning stuff.”
“At college? Perish the thought.”
“Well it’s stuff that has no practical application in life.”
“Oh, that’s okay then.” Sam stole the chair, because of course she did. She flipped back over to her own tabs and glanced through a few walls of text while she chewed. “I think I need to use swords.”
“Eh? That’s not very roguish.”
“Yeah, but with people being mortal and all they’ve started stacking defense if they have any sense, and we’re in the first few hours here. Before long everyone will be walking Sherman tanks with piles of stamina.”
“So you’re worried about damage resistance.”
“Mhmm.” Sam nodded. “Swords hit harder. If I spec right… it won’t be as fast, but it could work to counter the super defensive leaning of the new meta.”
“Ugh. ‘Meta.’ Hate that crap.”
“What? It’s the right word.”
“I know. It’s just… ugh. It’s supposed to be a game, but everyone gets super serious and busts out their graphing calculators to find the single best thing. So then everyone uses the best thing, and then the devs nerf the best thing because it’s the best thing. Then everyone looks for and finds the next best thing and the cycle continues. Why can’t you just, you know, do whatever you want? Have fun with it? Stop chasing the best thing?”
Sam stared at Jen for a few moments. “It’s like you’re speaking Greek.”
“Never mind. You don’t understand.”
“I understand.” Sam shrugged. “But it’s never going to happen. If I stop chasing the meta, that doesn’t mean anyone else does. That just ensures I can’t compete. I want to compete. I want to win.”
“But you don’t see how destructive that is? It’s all flavor of the month class rerolls and people whining when expansions come out because it throws wrenches into their spreadsheets. That makes people angry. Anger is not fun.”
“Winning is fun. And winning requires knowledge of the meta.”
Jen sighed. “I can see this conversation isn’t going anywhere.”
“That’s because you don’t have an argument.”
There were a few moments where Jen strongly considered throwing something at Sam. She had a few solid options: her shoes were on the floor, totally in reach. The alarm clock might hurt more, but it was plugged in. That might limit its initial mobility.
No. She was better than that. And Sam was her friend, she needed to be more open minded and accommodating of her screwed up views.
Besides, she didn’t have another clock.
“Derf.” Sam leaned in closer to the monitor. “That might be a problem.”
“Hmm?”
“People seem to know where Tobin Ironblood is, and the latest reports say he hasn’t moved in awhile. He’s in a safe zone for now, but I can’t see how he’s going to make it out of there with an angry mob waiting to chop him up.”
Jen hopped up and crossed the room to the computer. It took a sum total of two steps. “That’s bad.”
“Right? I want that title.”
Jen ignored that. “The event will end too soon if they just go all lynch mob on him.”
“On the other hand… it sort of looks like our job is easy? People are already clambering for blood.”
“Pfft. Yeah. That’s how much they like your open PVP playground.”
“… You might be onto something there. Bunch of sissy carebears.”
Jen glanced aside at the clock that by all rights should have been bashed over Sam’s head.
3:16 p.m.
“I guess we should get back in there. Maybe we can fool them, spread some misinformation or something.”
“Or I could start knifing them? That could work.”
“Somehow I think a bloodbath might not be the best way to go.”
“I’ll ask Hank about that, too.” Sam stretched her arms over her head. “You got room in your fridge for the pizza?”
