The Renegades Page 3

  At the base of the grand branch—where it met the Tree’s trunk—we found a spacious room full of mannequins wearing various clothes. Holy Spaghetti! I’d never have the imagination to design so many outfits with floral motifs, much less make them as pretty as these were. The NPC passed through this entire fashion show and stopped at some shelves full of green stacks.

  “Here you go. An ordinary integument. Surely in time you will find something more to your taste.”

  Items acquired:

  Ordinary leaf pants. Durability 60. Physical damage resistance: 2. Item class: Common. Minimum level: 1. This item cannot be traded.

  Ordinary leaf doublet. Durability 60. Physical damage resistance: 2. Item class: Common. Minimum level: 1. This item cannot be traded.

  The set also included an ordinary jerkin and matching boots, no different in stats and requirements. Thanking the NPC, I dressed and immediately felt more confident. It doesn’t do to go strolling around a city in your underwear, even if the city’s just a virtual fantasy.

  As soon as we left the ‘dressing room,’ Amaryllis stepped onto a giant leaf, which resembled a boat bobbing in the air and stared at me expectantly. A scene from the ancient movie Honey I Shrunk the Kids flashed through my mind. I felt like a tiny person about to climb aboard an immense bug and be carried away. Well, why not? Using this clumsy bit of escapism to trick my mind, I stepped aboard the leaf transport with the face of a brave explorer. The leaf rocked treacherously underfoot and I plunked down onto my rear entirely un-heroically. The loud guffaw of a player named Beastkiller the Enlightened sounded from a nearby leaf.

  “Relax! No one dies during the tutorial,” he announced in an expert’s tone and calmly followed his personal NPC guide onto a similar leaf-boat. I noted with some envy that the leaf didn’t so much as sway beneath Beastkiller’s weight.

  Then the leaf I was sitting on drifted away from the branch and began to descend magically and smoothly like an elevator. I didn’t risk getting up. Despite the barely-concealed laughter in Amaryllis’ eyes, she didn’t go so far as to make a comment. Either this was due to a sense of tact instilled in her by the developers or perhaps sitting while traveling in the leaf was a permissible manner of traveling after all.

  Here and there, similar ‘leaf elevators’ were carrying players and NPCs among the Tree’s branches. And it should be mentioned that they weren’t quite following pre-planned, direct routes between their points of departure and destination, but rather traveling in the most whimsical trajectories that allowed the players to enjoy the work and attention to detail the developers had invested in this game location. The immense city-tree was worth seeing. I immediately recalled another classic flick called Avatar. Perhaps the designers had decided that everything that was new was merely the forgotten old and so recreated the landscape of Pandora in Barliona.

  The gigantic tree glowed softly with its fluorescent leaves and flowers, painting the night with its neon colors. Various buildings grew from the immense, broad branches, each of which could accommodate my entire neighborhood back in meatspace. And I do mean grew: The buildings’ walls and roofs were formed either from growths of bark or from sturdy, thick leaves. The entire infrastructure turned out to be vegetative as well: Armchairs formed from toadstools invited the player to rest, flower fountains burbled happily, vine-ladders wound from branch to branch…

  The forest surrounding the Tree looked pretty unusual too: Trees you could encounter in real life grew among fantastical creations, giant ferns and flowers of impossible sizes. There was something of Lewis Carroll’s tales in this strange juxtaposition. I definitely wouldn’t be shocked to encounter a caterpillar with a hookah in these parts.

  Tearing myself away from my observations, I finally remembered that I had wanted to record a video of this and turned on my recording—but here a notification popped up before me:

  Attention! Video recording in this location is available only once the player has achieved Esteem status with the Biota.

  Right. Looks like this is in reference to reputation. According to the beginner’s guide, reputation in Barliona works in several stages: from a neutral relationship to friendship, respect, esteem and finally exaltation. In the other direction, this progression looked as follows: neutral, mistrust, dislike, hostility and hatred. By default, my reputation with my native faction was at friendship status and it didn’t seem like reaching esteem would be too difficult. On the other hand, now it’s clear why there aren’t any videos of this location on the fora.

  “How do you know how to get around this place?” I couldn’t keep from asking as we flew past another branch. To my untrained eye, they were similar and all their multi-level intertwining seemed entirely impenetrable.

  “Oh this is not as complicated as it seems at first glance,” Amaryllis calmed me. “The branches grow from the Tree’s trunk at several levels, and each branch serves its own purpose. We departed from the Branch of Slumber. This is where the bulbs bearing your sleeping brothers and sisters grow. Right now, we are passing the Branch of the Craftsmen. This is where the enchanters, artists, smiths, sculptors, alchemist and others study. That there is the Branch of Vocation. This is where the Woke receive assistance in finding their Way and get to know it. You will encounter Coleus there. He will tell you about the Bard’s vocation.”

  Hearing about the bard instructor, I perked up and stopped staring mindlessly around me. I’ll have time enough to enjoy the landscape later. For the moment, I am eager to get to know the class I chose. And yet the sightseeing tour went on so I decided to spend it with a purpose.

  “Where did the Tree come from?”

  “One of the Creator’s sons, the bright Eversquetor, created us and the pircs to fight the monsters that his brother Harrashess had flooded the Hidden Lands with. Eversquetor planted the Tree in the center of the Hidden Lands and the biota grew from its flowers. For many centuries we fought alongside the pircs against the monsters of Harrashess until we eradicated almost all of them. However, not long ago a new evil appeared in our lands. Only this wasn’t the dark spawn of Harrashess but something else. A blight that afflicts the creations of Eversquetor and corrupts them.”

  All right, this is getting interesting. Clearly an intro to some quest.

  “Why are these lands called hidden?”

  “They were not so once long ago but the other races of Barliona began to invade our territory, burning and cutting us, boring mineshafts in our mountains. They were destroying our homes and so we allied with the pircs and destroyed the uninvited guests. Then our mages and druids created the Arras, which concealed our lands from our hostile neighbors. Since that time, many races view us with suspicion and even hostility.”

  Well that’s unpleasant. As I understand it, with a bad rep, I’ll have to struggle for every quest I get. On the other hand, I’m surrounded by an immense unexplored forest which should have enough quests for many months to come.

  “Only the people of the forest can guide one through the Arras,” Amaryllis went on, and here suddenly her voice filled with menace. “But I must warn you: If you bring a foreigner here without having obtained permission from the First, he shall be killed and you shall forever be banished from the Hidden Forest.”

  Message for the player: If you lead another player or NPC through the Arras into the Hidden Forest, without receiving permission from the First, your reputation with the Biota and Pircs will fall to Hatred status.

  Uh-huh. So I better look for a party from among my own kind. Either these biota or the pircs.

  “And who is the First?”

  “You didn’t see her in your Twilight Dream?” the NPC asked surprised. “The First had been our fearless leader since the biota first appeared in Barliona. Hers was the first bulb to bloom and her life as well as the lives of the Ten became the basis for the Twilight Dream that all the subsequent generations of biota have seen.”

  At these words, dim images began to appear in my mind like…yes…like the snatc
hes of a dream.

  A beautiful biota with pale-green skin and lilac petals in her hair, and behind her another nine biota. One after the other, visions of battles flashed past my eyes in which the armies of two races led by the First and her black-furred beast fought against first terrifying monsters and later the sentient races of Barliona.

  The visions dissolved but something told me that if I concentrated, I would be able to ‘recall’ further fragments of my Twilight Dream. Not a bad topic for a song. Or even an album name. Several tales collected under the title Twilight Dreams. I’ll have to bring it up with the rest of the band.

  “Tell me who the pircs are,” I asked once I’d finished mentally divvying up the royalties from the non-existent album.

  “Eversquetor created the pircs in the image of predatory animals and sentient creatures, taking the best from both species. The majority of sentients consider them monstrous in appearance and savage in behavior. Before the Arras was put in place, some of them even tried to hunt the pircs, but the pircs quickly showed them who was the predator and who was the prey.”

  “So should I be cautious around them?” I asked just in case.

  Historical allies is naturally a good thing, but perhaps the two races had drifted apart over the intervening centuries? I wouldn’t want to become a vegetable side.

  “No, Lorelei. The pircs have always been our trusted allies.”

  But of course. If the pircs are predators, I doubt they have much interest in two-legged salads like biota.

  “Do the pircs live here on the Tree too?”

  “No, they live in the mountains. A network of natural caves called the Lair serves as their home. The forest is their hunting grounds.”

  New class ability unlocked: Bardic Lore.

  Bards are the collectors and guardians of legends and tales of yore. They are renowned for their ability to listen to others and discover grains of ancient wisdom in their speech. Bardic Lore allows the bard to uncover extra information in her conversations with NPCs, the chance to identify an item without assistance, to learn an item’s hidden properties as well as other information about Barliona.

  Skill increase:

  +10% to Bardic Lore

  Oh wow! That’s like one of the main bardic abilities in the ancient AD&D rulesets—which are rightfully considered the ancestors of today’s virtual RPGs. Normally, this is information that the DM would tell you. Wonder what happens here in Barliona? Will I be blinded by a tooltip or will it just kind of slink into my vision? Either way, this is freaking cool! I’ll finish this tutorial, find myself some buddies and we’ll sally forth like the adventurers of yore, a merry band to slay some goblins…No. Not goblins. You’d have to be Tolkien to write anything epic about a battle with some goblins. Better, monsters—right—monsters corrupted by some mysterious evil. The lyrics were already streaming into my head.

  Amaryllis drew me out of my reverie. It turns out that we had already reached the branch we needed and the NPC was waiting for me to leave the ‘leafevator.’

  “Are you sprouting roots in there?” she shared a bit of the local, vegetable wit. “Coleus awaits you.”

  That’s right. The bard instructor. But uh how can he already be waiting for me if I was only born a few minutes ago…Ho-hum. Or was I hatched? Ripened? Gemmated? Fell out of a tree? Spawned? That’s the one! I hurried after Amaryllis. Only an utter newb would skip a tutorial.

  Chapter Three

  We were strolling along a broad street running the length of the branch which was filled with all kinds of obstacle courses and training facilities. The air hummed with arrows hurtling at targets. Spells snapped, crackled and popped overhead. The breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the jingle of test tubes and alembics. Biota warriors? With the race penalty to strength? I couldn’t believe it. And still it was as plain as the nose on my face—or in the given case, the bit of lettuce—that we were on the branch designated for class training.

  The facility for training bards was a…circus. We had walked up to a tranquil, shallow creek (though, what the hell is a creek doing on a tree?) and here a bridge had been constructed…crafted…grown…well, it was there, the bridge: two wooden beams with something resembling a cobweb stretched taut between them, the way netting is arranged on ships sometimes—all of it ending at the arched entrance of a circus tent. The circus tent itself was a giant lilac bulb, which for some reason reminded me of a jellyfish.

  I set foot on the cobweb bridge with a deal of caution, but it turned out to be quite solid, bending barely noticeably under my foot. I stepped into the circus tent. And what a circus it was. A geometric pattern of various dots and circles—forming a snowflake or a flower—ornamented the floor of the arena. Three sets of bleachers radiated from the arena, facing a smattering of training dummies, solitary like cacti.

  About thirty players were hanging around the tent, looking quite preoccupied. I selected several and checked their properties. All of them had unassigned classes. I guess they’d shown up to get to know the newly-introduced class.

  “Buncha’ crap,” muttered a player named Green Pea.

  He fumbled with a lute in his hands, strumming it carelessly. The lute produced heartrending shrieks and several seconds of this aural hell culminated in a half-transparent, rainbow-colored arrow that went flying at a training dummy. I have no idea how much damage the arrow dealt, but the awful noise that preceded it just about killed me.

  “Clowns…” Pea went on. “And no damage to speak off. A class fit for autists.”

  Having voice this verdict, the player marched for the exit. Yup. An inspiring beginning.

  An NPC biota stood in the center of the circus, surrounded by players. His dark-blue epidermis stood out against his scarlet-red hair of leaves and similarly-colored veins along his body. Several sprouting stalks created the effect of whiskers beneath an eggplant nose.

  “This is Coleus, your instructor,” said Amaryllis. “He will tell you about your class and explain what you should do next. If you need me, Coleus will tell you where to find me. Or speak to any guard. They’ll set you in the right direction. Good luck, Lorelei.”

  “Thanks for your help!” I replied automatically and almost bouncing from impatience, hurried toward my class instructor. He was just explaining to the players clumped around him how to use a spellbook. Following his directions, I opened the one I had. Two spells, as I understood it, was the accepted standard in Barliona.

  Magic Missile: Using performance, you shoot a Magic Missile (magic damage) at your enemy. The damage done depends on your Intellect stat. Time to cast: 4 seconds. Cost: Character Level × 4 MP. Damage: Intellect × 3. Range: 20 meters.

  Song of Healing: Your performance heals the chosen target for the duration of your performance. HP healed depends on your Intellect stat. This spell is channeled. Cost: Character Level × 3 MP per second. Healing rate: Intellect × 2 HP per second.

  “What’s this performance thing?” asked a player named ‘Dill the Pickled.’ The recurrent humor in the players’ choice of names was a bit dull of course, but I suppose it could be overlooked given the features of the biota race.

  “A spectacle. Any spectacle you wish the audience to experience,” Coleus explained. “You could play an instrument, sing, dance, do a gymnastics routine…I had a student who juggled various items.”

  I could see it now: A raid. Muscles rippling, bones groaning, the tank takes a resounding blow from the hulking boss. He staggers. A bead of sweat streams down the healer’s face as he recites healing incantations. Thunder and lightning erupt from the mage’s fingers. The hunter draws and releases arrow after arrow at his target…While off to the side, a humanoid bush is juggling some colored balls. Spectacle indeed!

  Judging by the giggling players, everyone else imagined something similar.

  “So what’s up? Do we have to know how to play something?” asked someone named Prune the Desiccated.

  Mmm…yeah…My name’s really going to stand out around here
.

  “Strictly speaking, you can cast spells without having mastery of some skill,” Coleus replied with evident disapproval in his voice, “but who’d want to listen to it?”

  “Who cares, if the dps is good?” Prune waved dismissively.

  “By the way, on the topic of dps,” spoke up Dill. “Why’s it so low? I get that we get a bonus to Intellect and all that, but I’d hardly call it a multiplier. Mages and necromancers get 4x from Intellect! Even those bumbling shamans get 3x!”

  The gathered players rabbled their approval.

  “Being a bard is vocation, a calling,” Coleus cut off the rabble coldly. “If you wish to wield the power of the mages, go speak with instructor Verbena.”

  “You know what? That’s the first bit of good advice I’ve heard from you,” said Dill. He, Prune and several other players huffed out of the tent.

  “Are the rest of you sure you’ve come to the right place?” The biota inquired in a weary tone.

  The four of us who remained, nodded our heads.

  “In that case, let’s learn how to cast magic. Open your spellbooks and touch the Magic Missile entry.”

  I followed these simple instructions and the inscription for the spell stuck to my hand.

  “Now clench the spell in your fist or merely close your fingers over it—however you prefer—and place it in your active spells.”

  Do you wish to add Magic Missile to your active spells?

  Uh-huh. I do.

  Magic Missile has been added to your active spells. To cast the spell, choose a target that you wish to attack, mentally activate the spell, and perform any performance for four seconds.