Chapter 2: Tutorials in town

Chapter 2. Tutorials in Town

I woke up in a bed, which was quite startling as I did not remember going to sleep. It was all the more alarming when I did not recognize my surroundings. I was in a room maybe ten-foot-wide by ten-foot-wide, the walls were made of finished timber planks, certainly not something I was used to seeing. Light filtered in from somewhere behind me, presumably through a window, motes of dust danced in the shaft. I sat up to get a better look, only now noticing the coarse fabric of the linens and the uneven lumpiness of the mattress beneath me. At the foot of the bed was an iron-bound chest of unfinished wooden boards much like the walls and what I could only assume was a wooden dresser, not having seen a wooden one before, but the term was used for similar things at home.

I climbed out of bed, perhaps a little too quickly as the room began to spin. I wobbled my way to the door in one wall and out into a hallway filled with identical doors. It was then my surroundings decided to betray me again, as I moved through the open doorway and out into the hall, I smacked my head against the top part of the frame and in reaching out to steady myself I noticed my hands. My grey-green skinned, black clawed hands. I blinked then stared at them as I turned them over in turn, flexing and clenching them. They were my hands alright. I snorted with a surprised chuckle, it rumbled out like a low growl. I wondered if there was a mirror anywhere, nearby. I eyed each of the suspect doors, ignoring the one I had just come from.

My investigation of each door was fruitless; all of them were locked. I shrugged, guessing the game didn’t want me to enter any of these doors. I continued my awkward, wobbling walk down the hall to the end that didn’t just terminate with another locked door. At what I was now thinking of as the bottom of the hall was a set of stairs heading downwards, sounds of talking and laughter bubbling up from the bottom.

Navigating my way down the stairs, remembering to duck to avoid any protruding beams or other treacherous scenery I found myself in what I could only describe as a mess hall. Human women flitted between tables delivering drinks and food to a varied array of patrons. A dwarf manned the bar, seemingly cleaning a metal tankard with a cloth in perpetuity. In my slack-jawed awe at the scene I failed to notice a girl, no more than a teenager if I had to guess, approach me.

“Ah, Mister Opensky, you’re awake.” She said, prodding me and snapping me back into the moment.

“Who?” I asked, peering down at the small girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry are- are you not Blue Opensky?” She asked, blushing a deep red, it was cute.

“Oh, sorry. Yes that’s me. I think.” I replied, Opensky was my family name, huh? Interesting. I liked it. The AI had done a really good job. I supposed as the girl, an NPC I now realized, didn’t seem perturbed by the name at all. No, her discomfort might have been because I was an orc. While I had not had a chance to look at my appearance yet, and unless there were more races in the game that I was unaware of, an orc seemed to be the best bet. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, of course mister Opensky.”

“How did you know to talk to me?” I quizzed.

“Sergeant Miller sent me to find you, he said that I’d know you by sight.” She explained.

“Because I’m an Orc?” I chuckled, was this some sort of story or quest event? My friend had talked at length about them one night in the past and how some NPCs could be incredibly tenacious about seeing their request executed.

“Yes sir, but also that you were a Chosen of Lil” She explained, she turned and beckoned that I follow, beginning to weave her way through the crowded room, where for me the crowds parted. Yes, I think I’m going to like being an Orc.

On the way to wherever this girl was taking me, I made several discoveries. The first that I was somewhere called Fairfield Island and that currently I was in the town of Meadows Edge. The young girl, Katrina she told me, was eager to tell me about her hometown. It seemed that Meadows Edge was a town, like many others across the world, where monsters were known to form. She went on to explain that newly arrived Chosen of Lil, a term I now understood to mean Players, were to be assessed by the Sargent to determine if they could go out to capture their monsters.

“Are there many Chosen here?” I asked the precocious girl as she gushed at me.

“There hasn’t been many for a while.” She admitted, biting her lip. “We aren’t sure why they just stopped showing up. There were maybe two or three more of you to come through before you did but before that most of the Chosen chose to head for other places like Fairfield island.”

“Okay so, there’s a few more ahead of me.” I nodded; it would be interesting to see the types of monsters they would be returning with from their adventures outside of the town.

On the way to meet with Sergeant Miller, Katrina took the opportunity to indulge in showing me the sights of the small town. She informed me as we wandered through a well-trodden tiled street that she had come to meet me in what was called the Travellers’ district, the area populated by taverns, hotels, and some residential properties. It was the northernmost section of the town. She led me gleefully into the central market district, the southern trade district, and only after we had taken in the sights did Katrina bring to the military quarter, where I was to meet the Sergeant.

It was upon entering the aforementioned quarter that I heard a small chime that was followed by a pop-up window. Katrina watched patiently from the side, smiling. I checked the window.

Quest alert

Katrina wants you to follow her through the military quarter to Sergeant Miller, who has summoned you to be assessed for suitability to enter the wilds of the island’s islands.

While you can always leave the city on your own to try your luck against contentious nature, you could follow Katrina and maybe learn a thing or two?

Possible Rewards: XP

Accept/Decline

So, it was a quest, I grinned and hit accept. Maybe this would get me closer to catching my very own monster. Katrina smiled, nodded, and beckoned me to follow. Now that we were in a less casual environment, Katrina’s outward persona had entirely changed. The chatterbox was gone and she presented herself confidently to those who challenged our travel throughout the heavily fortified area. All around me men and women of various species ran drills with odd weapons of a colour I could only call dull gold. Elsewhere, guards walked in pairs patrolling the streets with spears or walking the external walls with bows, I was impressed, everyone here worked in near unison. They wore armour made of leather and helmets of the same dull golden metal. The only thing to denote officers that I could tell from a casual look, was that the armour seemed a little better, the helms more ornate with various colours of plumage presumably denoting rank.

Our path throughout the district was relatively straightforward as we followed a road that bisected the walled town, separating north from south. It was as we wandered the tiled road that I noticed the smell. It wasn’t pleasant. I was strangely aware of my smell, one that I didn’t find too unpleasant; but, the gathered crowd of races predominantly human, gave off their own distinct, unpleasant aromas. One that was currently bringing tears to my eyes. My blue eyes, I thought, were strange even for an orc or, so I imagined as I only really had the opening cinematic to go by. I had noticed this just before we had entered the military quarter. There had been a store selling mirrors and I had got a real good look at myself. I was bald, as all orcs were, my ears were rounded but had faint tips. My nose was nearly non-existent, aside from a slight rise in my face and two large nostrils. My jaw was square and had a light coating of coarse facial hair. My mouth was wide and expressive even with the four tusks growing up from my bottom jaw, the two outer tusks were smaller than their inner counterparts, I liked it. It made me look fierce, alien. It was so goddamn cool. What’s more I was huge, muscular, easily around seven-foot tall. It wasfor this reason I wasn’t annoyed at the wary glances nearly every man or woman in armour shot me as Katrina navigated us through the orderly crowds.

The sun was high above by the time we arrived at our destination. We had long since left the tiled road which I learned looped southward towards the small agricultural holdings of Meadows Edge. We entered a rough circle of both stone and wooden buildings around a sand-covered area in the centre. To the sides, against the massive crenelated outer wall was an array of targets and combat dummies at which a handful of men and women drilled. Here and there were barrels filled with what I could only assume was collected rainwater and weapon racks were dotted about in any of the open space not designated for transit or training.

At the centre, overseeing a group of recruits, was Sergeant Miller, or so Katrina informed me before she called the man’s rank aloud and announced me. The Sergeant approached. He was a big man, for a human. His hair was grey and cropped short, a handlebar moustache adorned his weather-beaten and scarred face. He carried himself with the lithe grace of a predator that I found somewhat unnerving and at the same time deeply impressive. Here I was, an orc, seven-foot of muscle and teeth and this man strode towards me with a swagger that told me he could wipe the floor with everyone in his vicinity. Indeed, if the level indicator that appeared over him, along with his name as he got close enough for the game to display his information. Sergeant Miller, level fifty, and a red skull icon next to it. I got the message now if I hadn’t already. This guy was not to be messed with.

“So, you’re the orc chosen who’s just arrived eh?” He barked as if in challenge as he assessed me. “Big bastard, isn’t you?” He chuckled and slapped me rather hard on the arm. A Red bar appeared in the top left corner of my vision, a tiny bit of the read vanishing momentarily before it restored itself. Ah, my health meter, cool. I noticed another three bars below the red. One was coloured yellow and represented my stamina; as Katrina lead me through the town at a breakneck pace, I’d learned that if I did anything more than a lazy job the bar began depleting. The remaining two bars were greyed out with the image of an old-fashioned padlock on them both, one was likely for mana and the other I wasn’t so sure about.

“I guess so, you’re not as much of a runt as the others.” I chuckled in response earning a nervous smile from Katrina. Miller remained silent for a moment eyeing me before erupting into laughter.

A message window popped up between us.

Quest Complete

You followed Katrina to Sergeant Miller. Well done, many believe they know best, but you know the value in humility.

Rewards: 10 Exp

Quest alert

Sergeant Miller would like to assess your abilities to prepare you for the wilderness beyond these walls. In accepting this quest, you will begin the combat tutorial would you like to proceed?

Rewards: Exp and Unknown

Accept/Decline?

Combat tutorial? Now that was new, to me at least. I had expected to be handed a monster from the outset but in a way, it made sense. CO, as a game, was a blend of monster raising and traditional RPG elements. Since there wasn’t exactly a class system, my friends had explained once, there were various skills one could acquire such as magic, blacksmithing or carpentry, and the list of available skills was nearly endless. I shrugged, if this would get me closer to having a monster, I would put up with it. Besides I guessed if I knew how to fight, I could actively train with my monster outside of encounters with other monsters or enemies or whatever. I was making a lot of assumptions here admittedly. With another shrug, an action that was rapidly becoming regular, I hit accept.

“Yeah, of course.” I informed Miller, with a smile, then gesturing with empty hands. “Do I just take my pick of a weapon or…?”

The grizzled Sergeant waved me off.

“Not yet, we need you to get a feel for the weapons we have here before we progress onto anything more rigorous.” He explained as he gestured me to follow him. He continued when he arrived at a table baring a multitude of weaponry that I was only vaguely familiar with. I recognized some sort of short wide-bladed sword. There was something that looked like an axe, the head being a semi-circular disk of what I now recognized as bronze. There was a spear and some other mean-looking bronze weaponry and an array of wooden and hide shields.

“Go ahead and get a feel for them.” Miller instructed me gesturing at the neatly arrayed weapons.

After a moment’s hesitation eyeing each weapon in turn and receiving various item description windows, I finally reached and picked up the bronze bladed sword.

Simple Bronze Gladius

Item quality: simple

A bronze short sword favoured by the militia.

Weapon damage: 2-8 piercing damage.

The thrill of excitement that I expected, along with the weight of the weapon, didn’t arrive. I looked at the weapon, my new bestial features twisting in dissatisfaction. It was light enough that I felt silly with the few practice swings the Sergeant indulged me, like I was a child swinging around a toy. I put it back.

“Not feeling the sword eh?” The Sargent nodded. “Not many species have the hands for them lad, not to worry. Got to be something here that takes your fancy.”

He wasn’t wrong. I tested each weapon in turn and after a while I realized that the axe and the small hammer-like object were the only weapons that felt right in my hands.

Simple bronze axe

Item quality: simple

A bronze war axe favoured by an ancient culture with a unique axe head design.

Weapon damage: 2-8 slashing

Simple bronze hammer

Item quality: simple

A simple war hammer design.

Weapon damage: 3-8 bludgeoning

After a moment I put the simple hammer back on the table and hefted the axe. While essentially the same as every other weapon I tried down to the materials, and base damage of the weapon, the axe felt different. I couldn’t explain it; it just felt right in my large grey-green hands. I gave it a few swings and I was enchanted. The axe, something I never had any real use for or saw much of back home, felt like part of me already. It was a hard feeling to quantify yet I just knew with a certainty that this was the weapon for me. Miller seemed to realize it as soon as I did and nodded approvingly.

“An axeman eh?” He asked as I inspected the weapon, nodding dumbly with newfound attention as I gazed at it. “Good choice, dirty fighters axemen are, not like the nobility with their shiny pig stickers and long kitchen knives.” He said, gesturing at the abandoned halberd, a lance-type thing I had discarded a few moments ago and the spurned bronze sword beside it. “I can have another one fetched for you if you like,” he offered as I began swinging and chopping with my new toy.

“Oh, um.” I started as he turned towards one of the weapon racks. “Actually, can I have a shield?”

That gave him pause, and after a moment he turned back to inspect me with a quizzical look in his eyes, a raised eyebrow indicating his scepticism.

“A shield?” He asked. “Why do you want a shield?”

“Oh, well. I have some friends elsewhere that are play- Chosen of Lil like me.” I explained, just stopping myself from using the expression ‘Player’, remembering the AI’s complaints about upset NPCs. “They told me that even where I go to get my creature, a relatively safe place, there’s likely to be something nasty lurking around so I think a little extra protection would be a good idea”

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“Take your pick.” Miller chuckled and gestured towards the stack of shields.

Unlike with the weapons it did not take me long to pick out a shield. The one I picked was a small, round, wood and hide shield with a bronze hub in the centre. I read the item description.

Simple Targe

Item quality: simple

Amour: shield.

A shield of simple design favoured by the militia

Use this to block the attacks you would rather not take head-on.

Block +5%

“All right, what do you need me to do?” I asked, tightening the leather straps that would anchor the shield to my left arm.

The Sergeant stepped back, taking me in again. Only this time I had a shield strapped to my arm and an axe in hand. As before with my introduction to the man he appraised me. However, Miller took his time and only now he circled me. It was unnerving, reminding me a little of my time in school and the circling bullies. I felt myself tighten up instinctively, I wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the game, but I was very acutely aware of our level difference and that looming red skull that appeared when I focused on the Sergeant, or indeed any of the NPCs otherwise they just looked like everyone else.

“Relax,” he drawled from close behind me. “If you get too tense in a fight it could mean the end of you boy. An attack might lack that little bit of power it needs to punch through the hide of a monster or the armour of a man.”

“What if I don’t want to fight, what if I use magic or something?” I asked turning to face Miller, instinctively backing up, fist tightening around the haft of the axe unbidden. He snorted.

“Well, you aren’t a wizard that’s for damned sure.” He pointed, arms crossing across his armour clad, barrel of a chest before heaving a sigh. “If you’re tense, you’re more like to pull something which could compromise your ability to get away from an opponent. From what I’ve heard the spell slingers say about it, that magic would apply as well; if you aren’t relaxed you can’t cast. What’s more, you Chosen can’t learn magic like others can. Nah, you get it from your beasties.”

I blinked. I did not know that, but it made sense. I had never really played your standard swords and sorcery style RPG aside from a few half-hearted attempts at tabletop games. There wasn’t a class system for players, we were just the ‘Chosen of Lil’ but for the NPCs there were supposedly warriors, wizards, and priests. Now listening to Sergeant Miller in a full-on rant about wizards and their ilk, I decided it would be best to get some information from my friends on how the magic system worked.

“Anyway, Sergeant. Do I meet your standards?” I asked, stopping the grizzled soldier mid-rant.

“Certainly, look the part,” He conceded. “Bit of armour and you’d look a mean bastard, that’s for sure. But a monster isn’t going to give a shit what you look like. No boy, you’re going to have to go toe to toe with one of my men.”

He turned and began striding towards a cluster of men and women drilling in the middle of the sand-covered field. He began bellowing orders as I jogged up behind him, the training militia stopping what they were doing and falling into orderly lines, it was quite impressive to me. I can’t stress enough just how novel the entire experience the game was for me in the few hours I had been playing. They looked like what I imagined warriors were supposed to look like, well maybe not with wooden training weapons, but fierce.

“All right everyone, this is the Chosen that arrived last night”. Miller barked gesturing at me rather pointlessly as I was the only other person stood by him. “He’s here because he thinks he can handle beyond the walls.” That earned him a chuckle from the assembled guards, he slapped me on the shoulder. “He might be right, he’s a big bastard, after all, makes the standard-issue gladius look like a child’s toy.”

The militia members, now eyeing me up were murmuring amongst themselves, some seem to be chuckling at the Sergeant’s good-natured ribbing of me, some were appraising me much the way he had on first meeting me. One, a dwarf, even as went as far as pacing around in a semicircle to get a better look at me. Others had darker looks on their face as though they were looking at something vile and not another person, something similar to malice or hate in their eyes.

After a moment's hubbub the Sergeant called his men and women back to order.

“Torsgulf, yer up. Show this Chosen what he’s up against.”

The dwarf, who had been sizing me up before began stretching in his spot at the front of the crowding soldiers. I focused in on him, above his head lettering appeared:

Angan Torsgulf, Level Twenty.

I paused, Level twenty! I was what, Level one? As if on cue, a level indicator appeared above the red and yellow bars that I had come to associate with health points and stamina points. Yup.

Blue Opensky, Level One.

“Eh, Sergeant Miller are you sure this is wise?” I asked hesitantly turning from the dwarf to the Sergeant.

“Wise, eh?” The dwarf barked at me. “Think because you’re a big bastard of an orc and I’m just a poor wee dwarf?”

“No, it’s not that,” I protested. “It’s just that you are stronger than me, this is the first time I’ve even been near a real weapon.”

Another militiaman, a smirking and cruel-looking, human joined the debate. “A green-skin that’s never held a weapon?” A sneer on his acne-scarred face. “Now, that I cannot believe, Chosen or not.”

I scowled at him, not liking his attitude or his tone of voice, and it must have shown on my face as Miller chose to intercede.

“Boyle, enough! Go run laps in full gear until I say otherwise.” He thundered at the man, who blanched at the explosion of sound from the Sergeant who only seconds before was calm, even amiable. It had the desired effect, as the angry murmur that had started from my hesitancy to fight or the perceived slight towards Torsgulf and his stature began to fade. I was guessing that there was some sort of pre-programmed racial biases or relationships between different races. I guessed orcs had a reputation; another question to add to my growing list for my friend when I logged out later. It seemed likely that there was some sort of racial tension; we’d been taught that in history growing up, it was a very confusing and concerning experience. “You see Chosen, out in the wilderness or the horrors of war no one’s going to give two shits if you’re stronger or weaker than you are. In combat it’s kill or be killed. Begin.”

The dwarf lunged with frightening speed catching me off guard and sending me sprawling to the ground to the amused laughter of the audience, I swore as I spat sand out of my mouth. Miller was chuckling. A sliver of red was shaved from my health bar for the impact of both heavy dwarf and unforgiving ground.

“To yer feet, Chosen.” The dwarf grunted hefting his weapon. I hadn’t seen him with it before and had I, I’d have wanted to fight him even less. The stocky bearded humanoid raised a large wooden maul, a type of hammer with an excessively large head. The weapon was intimidating, the head was some sort of tone heal in place with bands of bronze and large bolt heads were present on the side of the head. The face was worn smooth, I noted, as the dwarf heaved the massive weapon at me.

Only now getting to my feet, I hurled myself backward with force, rolling over and over away from the dwarf. As I did, I swore I felt a breeze tickle my face as the hammer swung by like a passing asteroid. There was a chime from somewhere, sort of similar to the quest notification sound I had heard before.

Skill learned: Dodge

Sometimes it’s best to just get out of the way.

Skill level 1: your chance to dodge is increased by 1%

That was interesting. If skills were acquired through an intended action then perhaps, I could gain a bunch of skills through trial and error. And considering the determined dwarf once more barrelling towards me and my slowly emptying stamina bar, the shield was heavy. But as the dwarf moved to swing again, he was relentless in his pursuit of me keeping me, backpedalling away as I attempted to raise my shield to block. The first time I tried to bring my shield to bear I took one of the dwarf’s blows, only the force of impact jarred my arm and knocked the wind from me. I gasped; people did this for fun? My health bar depleted by a good chunk but was still over halfway full. I noted that after the initial impact the pain receded quickly despite intercepting the blow. Apparently I hadn’t done it well enough for the game to consider it an active attempt at a skill. It took a few attempts but the more I scrambled about the training field, the more my stamina dwindled and with each successful strike Torsgulf made against me and my poor attempts to block, my health was depleting at an alarming rate.

“Come on boy,” Miller called from amidst the gathering spectators, voice carrying out over the din of the crowd. “Can’t always run away from things, fight!”

The dwarf chuckled, planting the head of his weapon firmly on the ground with a muffled thud, leaning against it casually he began to taunt me.

“Auch, maybe you orcs aren’t the fierce fighters I’ve heard. So much for a fierce, warrior race. Where’s that rage and vigour, eh!” He chortled, the onlooking militia members beginning to jeer along with him. “Me granny could beat you boy, and she lost one of her arms to a horned cave bear. Though to be fair, she was a tough woman, she killed that bear. She’d likely just tan yer hide and send ye tae bed with nae supper.”

My frustration and embarrassment welling up to the surface, I growled and began advancing on the dwarf. I didn’t know what I was going to do yet, but I raised my axe into a sort of ready position. Torsgulf fell silent, hefting his weapon into a ready position.

“Aye,” He said in a hushed voice, eyes lighting up with excitement. “That’s what I wanted to see. Come on now, get angry!”

Tutorial message

Racial Abilities

It seems that you are engaged in friendly combat.

Many races have active and passive combat abilities.

As an orc you have access to the racial ability [Frenzy]

To use this ability either experience anger or think about getting angry. For the duration of the frenzy effect your attack speed is increased and damage received is reduced by 10%. Lasts 30 seconds.

I swiped the message away with my axe and quickened my pace, a small icon appearing in the top right-hand side of my vision, a timer counting down under it. Once it had been noticed it became unobtrusive, like a subconscious mental clock. I took the opportunity to check my bars. Health was low, as I paid attention to it a percentage appeared. 38%. My stamina was in better shape, the brief respite the dwarf had given me with his taunting had allowed it to begin slowly refilling. The more the yellow bar filled the less tired I felt, the easier I could breathe.

As I closed in on the dwarf, he swung at me. Angry, and with my racial frenzy ability dulling the sensation of pain and clouding my judgment, my shield arm snapped up to interpose, deflecting the blow. A notification icon appeared in the peripheries of my vision, I ignored it as I ignored the sweat stinging my eyes. Passing the devastating head of Torsgulf’s weapon I unleashed what I was sure was a punishing flurry of blows, but Torsgulf proved nimble. He slapped my strikes away having abandoned his weapon and those he couldn’t slap away he avoided by weaving like a professional fighter. But I was not to be dissuaded, the speed and force that my orc racial abilities imparted on me delivering some punishing blows, I pressed the dwarf enough that he was forced back.

It was short-lived. By the time my Frenzy timed out, he delivered a punishing blow to my stomach, and as I doubled over winded, he followed through with a powerful right hook that sent me sprawling, my health bar dropping to below ten percent. I struggled to get back to my feet, looking around as the world spun, a whirl of blurred faces staring at me. I could hear Miller barking orders and cheering but that didn’t make any sense at the moment. Eventually my eyes tracked Torsgulf who was standing hands on hips appraising me. I moved forward and raised my arm only to realize the axe I had been holding but a moment ago was gone. I spun, wobbled, and looked around; it was a few feet away from me, abandoned amidst the churned-up sands. How did it get over there?

“Are ye alright, lad?” A sort of familiar voice asked me, from somewhere in the region of my elbow. I looked down at Torsgulf.

“I believe I am not.” I slurred at him. “I think I need to wait for everything to be a bit more still.”

He chuckled and clapped me on the arm as Miller approached a frown on his face. That didn’t seem right, I thought to myself as the Sergeant talked with the dwarf and sent him away. Why was he frowning? It was a sobering thought though it may have had more to do with my slowly refilling health bar than any actual head trauma from the mother of all punches. I sat down and heaved a deep breath as the Sergeant watched me.

“You’ve got what it takes, Blue.” He told me, folding his arms as he looked down at me. The effect made him all the more imposing. “But you’re raw. I’d feel better if you spent the rest of the day training with Torsgulf. He’s a good man if a bit overzealous in his fighting, but that’s the Dwarves for you, just as tenacious as your lot.” Extending a hand, he hauls me to my feet, dusting the sand from my clothes as he continues. “But he fought you and he’s drilled the basics into plenty of recruits in his time. If he can get you up to at least the standard of a newbie or part-timer then I’ll okay you to exit the city.

Quest Alert

Update

Sergeant Miller’s assessment of your abilities was bleak. However, he does recognize your potential. Raise any combat skill to skill level 5. In doing so he will feel more confident about sending another Chosen out into the wilderness.

1h Axe skill 2/5

Armor proficiency: Shields: 1/5

Dodge 3/5

Optional: raise two additional combat skills to skill level 5 for the chance at an extra reward.

Rewards: XP, Reputation with the Meadows Edge Militia, bonus items.

I nodded, having to agree with the Sergeant’s appraisal. Torsgulf had thoroughly thrashed me in our bout but I was pleased to see that I had gotten some skill gains. I pondered about the optional text in the quest notification. I understood, indeed just at the bottom of my vision was a bar a tenth of the way filled, likely due to following Katarina to Sergeant Miller. I had a long way to go. I failed to see what exactly this had to do with monster taming, but I shrugged and decided to follow the quest. Maybe the bonus items would be helpful?

It wasn’t long until my limbs trembled and ached. Torsgulf, while a friendly, funny, and honestly quite likable man, was strict. He had started by making me run laps, explaining that this would condition me and prevent my stamina bar from depleting. Indeed, it was an hour into the job that a notification popped up.

Physical Conditioning, I

Passive

You have gained the physical conditioning skill. This is a stamina-based skill. Higher ranks of this skill can increase your maximum Ki.

Ki: +0

Stamina regeneration +10%

Carry capacity +5

I had stopped jogging to read the message which in turn attracted Torsgulf’s attention and ire. When he was finished berating me and my imaginary orc mother’s virtue, he calmed enough for me to ask him a question.

“What is Ki?” I asked, accepting an offered waterskin from the dwarf.

“Auch, well ye really are wet behind the ears, aren’t ye?” He chuckled and clapped his belly. “Ki is an energy much like magic that dwells within everyone’s body. Some fighters can draw on it to enhance their physical attacks or snatch arrows in flight. I’ve even heard it being used by some brute to heal wounds to contend with the incoming injuries from multiple or larger opponents. It’s not easy to access; my combat skills had to be raised to a certain point before I could develop any Ki based abilities.”

My jaw dropped the dwarf had just referenced skills. Did NPCs know about skills? Was this guy a player who decided he didn’t want to play the game and wanted to just pretend to be a Dwarven militia fighter. I stared at him for a moment, his lettering appeared no longer a hostile red but a yellowish-green colour.

“So, I could learn a Ki skill myself?” The thought excited me, I had enjoyed the combat and indeed the game was insane; it all felt so very real, indeed even the jarring moments of brief dulled pain was enough to give the situation a sense of authenticity and with-it, urgency. I was hooked and could understand why my friends spent so much of their free time playing games like this. It was exhilarating, liberating.

“Aye, Laddie likely faster than most. Your block and dodge skills have both reached Level five already. I guess what they say about the Chosen of Lil learning faster than us regular folks are true.” He observed stroking his long, braided, and tastefully ornamented beard. “You’ve already accomplished what greenhorns take weeks to learn.”

That was staggering, but I supposed it made sense. AI monsters in the games I played were always weaker than player-raised monsters, so it stood to reason that players were special what with the whole ‘Chosen of Lil’ title. At first I thought it was just dialogue for the sake of emersion, but as my skills rose and I became more confident with what I could do as a muscle-bound orc, it was becoming clearer that the name was used to rationalize the speed at which players progressed to the denizens of the game world. The game had mentioned something about shaping the world of Argaria through my interaction with it.

“Honestly, I was surprised by how strong ye were Blue. Level one and able to take a few blows, though ye did flail around like a new-born for most o' it, yer quick and if you can learn to use that with your aggression you’ll be frightening.” He clapped me on the arm. “Come on, let’s get you swinging that axe properly.”

The sun was already setting far in the west, beginning to slink below the mountains, painting the training grounds in the dusky light. I was covered in sweat and grime, aching and panting like a beast; a far more composed Torsgulf lead me to an important-looking, squat stone building that presumably functioned as some sort of administrative headquarters or officers lounge for “the brass” as Torsgulf had taught me to think of them as. The range of expressions the dwarf possessed was quite colourful and varied.

We found Sargent Miller out of his armour at his desk reading parchments. The small room contained an equally small desk, the walls were emblazoned with ink drawings of various individuals, papers and a range of parchment covered in a strange script I didn’t recognize. What floor space there was, was dominated by the desk and containers of more rolled parchments all neatly bound or kept in some sort of hide tubes. The air was dry but still contained potent smells; neither Miller or Torsgulf paid it any mind but I was adjusting to my new perception of smell. I’d get there. I hoped.

“Torsgulf reporting, sir.” The dwarf said after a brief salute that was absently returned by Miller, his nose buried in a sheath of parchment. “Blue Opensky, Chosen of Lil, has met and exceeded the minimum requirement for a person to be permitted through the eastern gates.”

“Anything of note in his training?” The Sergeant asked looking up and seemingly appraising me once more with his dark eyes.

“He learns fast, it would seem what they say about the Chosen is true.” Torsgulf chuckled. “Aye, the lad exceeded what was needed of him, as I said. He raised three combat skills to Level five in a half-day, what’s more he has picked up a handful of Levels in Physical Conditioning One.”

“Very good, well done mister Opensky.”

Quest complete

You have gained permission to leave through the eastern gate directly into the Badlands where others choose to leave through the southern gate.

Rewards

100xp

Simple Bronze Axe

Simple Targe

Padded Jerkin

Eastern Gate pass

Status Update

Your reputation with the Meadows Edge Militia has changed. Because you chose to diligently train with the men and women of the militia your reputation with them has increased from neutral to friendly. They may now come to you with quests.

I closed the notifications and then to my horror, the items on the table vanished. Was this some sort of trick? I eyed the two suspiciously. They stared back at me as if I was the weird phenomena, not the vanishing equipment. I was about to ask when another window popped open. After a quick scan I noticed it was a message informing me how the inventory and equipping items and armour worked. It was relatively straight forward; I could spend the time putting on the armour and items or I could drag them onto a doll of my avatar and they would appear in place. I did the latter. I was not prepared. It’s a strange sensation having a padded jacket with bits of brass plating and leather stitched on places, an axe, and a shield to be suddenly on my person. It was like an invisible force had pushed down on me so gently I no longer noticed but for a moment there was that heavy sensation as the items settled into place. Weird.

I stuck around to chat with Torsgulf and Sergeant Miller until well after sunset. They both took the opportunity and the time to explain the finer parts of the martial practices and the virtues of the way of life. From what they said it appeared to me that players seemed to favour making their monsters fight, relying on spells for the most part. I couldn’t say for certain myself, I hadn’t encountered any other new players since I had started playing. Indeed, as I idly wandered the town waving at the occasional guard that seemed to recognize me, I pondered this. Why were there so few new players? Surely the training grounds should be swarming them? But instead, everyone I encountered was clearly an NPC with the yellow-green shade of their name but for all I knew, my own lettering appeared green as well so I couldn’t say for certain. But there was just something about them that didn’t seem organic, I couldn’t really tell you why. Just a vague awareness that they were a smaller AI inside a giant AI operated game.

My wandering did eventually yield the answer to my questions; I had somehow gotten turned around you see, and found myself at the southern gate, which people passed through freely. When I asked a guard why that was so, he explained that the difference between the eastern and southern gates was that the lands to the south were patrolled and relatively monster free, while to the east you entered directly into the Badlands, whatever those were.

It was at the southern gate that I encountered a couple of other players. The first was an elf woman, tall and clad in some sort of archaic-looking shirt and cloth hose with thigh-high black leather boots. A silver-grey half cape was draped across her narrow shoulders, complimenting the flowing midnight-blue hair. Above her in blue lettering was her character name it read: Thalias Sorrowsong, Level five.

The second was a human man with short copper-coloured hair. He had a short bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows slung across his back. He wore a mixture of leather and mail armour, I wondered where he had gotten it. He also sported a long green cloak. His name was Dannath Marshstrider and he was also a Level five. They were a bizarre sight to behold to be sure, but it wasn’t really the players that captured my attention, at least not for long. What I was gawking at slack-jawed were the very first example of monsters I had seen since starting my journey.