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With the enchanted tooth filling the gap, Derek looked less like a thug. Even so, somehow it didn’t measurably improve his Appearance Score.
Glenn wondered if makeup, or lack of makeup, would affect one of the game’s basic stats. Or if taking steroids might affect a Strength Score.
He figured to ask later. At the moment they were waiting for Kirby to pay Patti for their biscuits and honey, and tea. The Red Brick was mainly a carryout business for merchants and laborers, and the main morning rush was over. Normally, they would’ve just remained and discussed the issue around one of the two standing tables for customers. But a fairy might unnerve Patti. It would definitely attract unwanted attention from any customers or passersby that might lay eyes on Stephi.
They could’ve gone back to the Glade House to discuss the pawnshop owner’s proposal, except that Stephi increasingly felt antsy, or agitated. She needed nature. Plants and sunshine rather than an urban setting, surrounded by stone, bricks, dead wood, and the constant threat of iron. Ron stated it was a deep need related to her inherent fairy, or fae, nature.
Who was to argue? So the party wolfed down their biscuits and tea before heading out to Glenn and Kirby’s fishing spot near the willow tree. Near Kim’s grave.
Once outside the wall Glenn asked Ron, Derek and Kirby, “What’s the logic behind ranks? I get that gaining experience would make someone a better swordsman or spell caster. But more hit points?”
Derek snorted a laugh. “What brought this on, gnome?”
“I really nailed that Rex guy. He just sloughed it off, like I hit him with a Nurf bat.” Glenn threw his hands up in exasperation. “I bet that guy could take a swipe from a grizzly bear and laugh. Heck, he could lay on a Florida beach for hours without sunblock and not even get sunburned.”
“Dude,” Kirby said, “ranks and hit points are the only way the game can allow humans, like Derek with a sword, to eventually stand toe to toe with ogres, and maybe dragons.”
Derek interjected, “Hey, who says I can’t take out an ogre.”
Keeping pace, Kirby squinted up at the big warrior. “You’re second rank. Ogres are four hit-die monsters.” He held up a hand to stall Derek’s objection. “You got a good Strength Score, so you get bonuses to hit and to damage. That definitely helps. Still...”
Derek reached back over his shoulder and placed a hand on his sword’s grip. “What about my sword?”
“And you got a magical sword,” Kirby admitted. “But it’s only plus two against ogres. You and an ogre probably deal out equal damage, and with your breast plate armor, you have a better armor class. But the ogre’s gonna have more hit points, and has a better ‘to hit’ chart.”
Derek grumbled, but didn’t disagree.
“To answer the other portion of your query,” Ron said to Glenn, “I believe, under the Florida sun scenario, such a warrior would suffer the effects of sunburn, despite having a large reservoir of hit points.”
They were off the road and crossing the meadow grass. Stephi was no longer in her basket. Instead she rode on Derek’s shoulder. There were still scattered people on the road, and they might see her. Maybe mistake her for a giant butterfly, maybe not. Sitting on a shoulder until they were nearer the river would be less conspicuous than flying around. Her Camouflage ability helped disguise her, especially from anyone at a distance.
Stephi kept stretching her arms out, soaking up the sun. She was definitely tired of riding around in a basket.
“But not the bear?” Glenn shuffled faster to keep up. “I mean I get bears, ogres and dragons having more hit points, because they’re bigger and they’re monsters. And husk mummies because they’re magical undead...”
“That’s the point of the game, dude,” Kirby said. “Monsters, Maces and Magic would get boring if all you could do is fight goblins or lizard men. Wouldn’t matter how good you are attacking and defending with a sword if you came up against a dragon. One bite and you’re dead, dude. Don’t even think about surviving its breath-weapon damage. Be like a scarecrow against a flame thrower.”
“When I get enough ranks and hit points,” Derek interjected, swinging his fist as if he were wielding a sword, “I’ll go toe to toe with a dragon.” He shrugged, showing a lopsided smile. “At least for a few rounds.”
“Takes a party effort to kill a dragon,” Kirby said.
“Gnomes gotta watch out, though.” Derek smirked at Glenn. “Dragons always swallow them whole, first.”
Stephi smacked Derek on the top of his head. “You’re making that up.”
“Working at being Domestic Abuser Barbie?”
Stephi stuck out her tongue.
“You are correct, Marigold,” Ron said, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Kalgore’s assertion with respect to a dragon’s preference for gnomes is a fabrication. It is not found in the game rules.”
“I watched my brother play videogames,” Stephi said. “Those games weren’t anything like this world. More army soldiery stuff with tanks and explosions. But he leveled-up a lot faster than we are. I mean, he completed missions and collected loot and guns and bombs—.”
Kirby cut in, “You mean grenades?”
“Grenades, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “After a big fight or two, he’d have enough experience to level up.” She threw her hands up in the air, just like Glenn had. “I should be fifth or sixth level by now, not second.”
“Video Voyeur Barbie?”
Kirby snickered at Derek’s comment.
Stephi pointed at Kirby. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Rank, not level,” Ron corrected, scanning the area around them.
The road had turned west, before angling south to the small port. They kept walking south, across the meadow grass, toward the river.
Stephi’s wings fluttered. “Rank, level, whatever.”
Glenn looked away from Stephi, down his at boots as he trudged through the thick grass that reached up to his knees. Her beauty, especially in the sunlight, distracted him. He said, “I get killing a monster giving experience points toward going up a rank. But gold coins looted off the bodies or from their lairs?”
“You also get experience for getting magic items too,” Derek said. “Not a lot, which always sucked about this game.” He looked around in the sky and across the terrain with his lip curled. “Sucks about this world.”
Glenn couldn’t argue. But more than gaining few experience points for finding magic was far from the only thing about the world that sucked.
“Monsters, Maces and Magic was designed to focus on role playing rather than rank advancement,” Ron explained. “While the experience point totals listed to advance a rank appear comparable to similar tabletop role playing games, experience gained for slaying creatures is less. Each gold piece secured is worth merely half of an experience point compared to similar tabletop games. An enchanted item’s contribution to experience points earned is one twenty-fifth the item’s gold coin value, as listed in the Game Moderator’s Guide.”
Derek thumbed over his shoulder—the one Stephi wasn’t sitting on—toward the hilt of his sword. “And you get none for buying or trading for a magic weapon.”
“Any enchanted item,” Ron corrected.
“They help you on adventures,” Kirby said. “Help you survive. That’s their real value.”
Petie flew down, landing in the meadow grass. He came up with a small grasshopper in his beak.
“So the game focuses on role playing,” Glenn said, scorn in his voice. “Which we’re literally doing.”
“And encourages long-term campaigns,” Ron said.
“Which we’re literally on.” Glenn kicked at an especially thick tuft of grass, nearly tumbling in the process.
Kirby grabbed Glenn’s arm and steadied his friend.
Instead of laughing at Glenn’s near tumble, Derek smacked a fist into the palm of his other hand. “When we get back,” he said, “my fists’ll be doing some long-term campaigning on that shithole GM’s face.”
They sat in a circle under the willow tree’s shade, ten yards from the river. Derek leaned his back against the tree. Ron sat to the big warrior’s left and Kirby on his right. Glenn sat between Ron and Kirby, with Marigold squeezed in between Glenn and Kirby. With her natural-leaf green garb, except for her shimmering wings, Stephi nearly blended in with the grass.
Glenn had to keep himself from sneaking glimpses of her. He noticed Derek didn’t bother. For some reason the big warrior wasn’t affected in the same way Glenn was.
Despite Petie in the willow tree above watching for approaching danger, Glenn did his best to remain vigilant. Less than a month ago a zombie with some sort of blue-glowing Tracking Gem imbedded in its forehead stumbled across Kirby, Stephi and Glenn while they were fishing.
That, and the gnome didn’t want to be surprised by the leprechaun. The others didn’t seem concerned. They all remained confident Bataí Fidil na Maidine wasn’t in the area, and wouldn’t return until he was called.
“So, we’re like, going to do this, right?” Stephi asked, concern in her voice.
The pawnshop owner wanted them to travel to Riven Rock and complete a retaliatory attack on a business owned by a member of the guild currently working to expand into Three Hills City. The guild to which Higslaff, and Josiah—and Josie—were members, headed by some powerful guy that went by the name Black Venom, obviously opposed that expansion effort.
If the party did his bidding, the pawnshop owner would give them the leprechaun’s gold coin as payment.
Trying to take the coin from Higslaff didn’t seem feasible. And whoever he eventually sold or traded it to, if he didn’t keep it himself, would probably be a good measure more difficult to take it from.
Kirby said, “Of course we are, Marigold.”
“You say that like it’ll be a piece of cake job,” Derek said. “It’s not gonna be, you know.”
“I know,” Kirby said with a scowl. “We all know. But his idea of us going in the town as part of a small trade caravan makes sense. Safer than us travelling alone. And wagons are a good way to get into a city without questions.” He scowled again. “Well, not as many questions.”
Derek’s lip curled. “And we’re doing him another favor by guarding the wagons and helping him turn a profit.”
“He’s giving us scrolls for Stephi, to cast some tough spells,” Glenn said. “They’ll even be written fairy-size.”
Glenn shot a quick glance at Stephi. He usually avoided bringing her small size up—like she didn’t notice her tininess pretty much all the time. He noticed his short stature at least a hundred times a day.
Glenn’s mention didn’t pull her attention away from Derek. He was against the adventure, or at least leaning that way. The big warrior was going to be outvoted, even if Ron was against it. No way would Kirby vote against getting Stephi back to her normal self. Glenn would risk about anything for her, and for Kirby, too.
“Working on the assumption that we accept this adventure,” Ron said, “we will require sufficient details with respect to the city of Riven Rock, and the business therein, and probable security the business employs.”
“You can bet they’ll be expecting payback,” Derek warned. “Remember, their attack on the pawnshop didn’t end so well for them.”
“That’s because of you and Jax jumping in right away,” Stephi said. “You cut off that magic user’s arm and fought that cleric and other warrior, remember?”
“Yeah,” Kirby said, “but we’ll be smarter than them.”
Glenn picked a few strands of grass and twisted them together. “Higslaff didn’t give us much information about the target for his payback.”
Ron explained, “He will refrain from providing details until we accept the adventure.”
“Right, dude,” Kirby said, his hands becoming animated as he spoke. “Otherwise we might tell the target, because he’s being a jerk by not giving us the coin.”
“That’s just wrong,” Stephi said. She tried to cross her arms over her chest, then pounded her fists on the ground instead. “He should’ve given that stupid leprechaun’s coin to us.”
Derek fingered his new tooth. Josiah had painted it to match his others, and used some sort of spell to make the paint durable and not rub off. “Remember, this world’s got zero charity.”
“Well,” Kirby said. “There’s gonna be three, maybe four wagons, and he’ll have some men guarding them, along with us. We’ll have him commit to a minimum number of men-at-arms.” The half-goblin thief scratched behind his ear. “But those’ll be his dudes...”
Derek was about to say something when Kirby snapped his fingers first and said, “Since Higslaff said he’d fund the venture, we’ll get folks of our own.” Kirby grinned like a beggar who’d just found a twenty dollar bill in his coat pocket. “And Mr. Pawnshop Dude can pay for it.”
“Like who?” Stephi asked.
“Blizz,” Kirby said.
Blizz was an old half-goblin animal handler that had travelled with the party twice into the Dark Heart Swamp. Him and his donkey.
Before Stephi could complain about Blizz being a creep that stared at her every chance he got, Kirby added, “Plus, we could get our own man-at-arms to go with us. One old animal handler and one lousy man-at-arms? No way he’ll turn us down for that.”
The half-goblin thief gestured to the two warriors in the group. “Kalgore and Lysine, you guys gotta know someone who can do that, or know how to find someone.
“Blizz can help with driving the horses pulling a wagon. That’ll free us up more.”
“Right.” Derek grinned menacingly. He nodded once at Kirby. “Even better, it’ll come out of his pockets, not ours.”
“An item to consider,” Ron said. He waited until everyone looked his way. “Taking on this adventure, even if we succeed, may draw us into this war between rival thieves’ guilds.”
Derek asked Kirby, “You know what’s going on with that, thief?”
“Is it gonna be really a war?” Stephi asked.
“It’s more like rival street gangs fighting over turf,” Kirby explained to Stephi. “Except they’re using daggers and swords and spells, instead of guns.”
Kirby plucked a long piece of grass and stuck the end in the corner of his mouth. “From what I’ve heard, a few killings on both sides. My guess is the Riven Rock Guild has been planning this for a long time.” He pulled the piece of grass from his mouth, examined the tip, and bit back onto it again. “Years, and it’s just getting started.”
“I say we vote about going on this adventure,” Derek said, laying heavy on the sarcasm. “We already know we’re going.”
“Any additional discussion?” Ron asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
Ron nodded once. “Those in favor of attacking the property of the rival guild on Higslaff’s behalf in order to secure Bataí Fidil na Maidine’s coin, raise your hand.”
All five hands went up, Glenn and Stephi’s more enthusiastically than the others.
“The party shall proceed with the mission,” Ron said.
“You realize,” Derek said, his intense gaze focusing on Stephi and Glenn, “if we don’t get killed, and get caught instead, better hope it’s the city’s guards that did the catching.
“That way we’ll probably just get thrown in some dungeon prison for twenty years.” His gaze dropped for a few seconds while he stared intently at the grass in front of him. “If we survive in there that long.”
Derek refocused his gaze on Stephi. “They’ll probably just lock you up in an iron bird cage, and make you perform for the warden, or whoever, like some Caged Canary Barbie.”
A menacing grin crossed his face. “Lysine and Gurk’ll back me up on this.” He leaned forward, locking eye contact with Glenn. “If it’s thieves that catch us...they’ll do some nasty things before we die. Things that’ll make those old Saw movies look like kindergarten playtime.” The grin fled Derek’s face and his voice reverberated dire seriousness. “With none of us walking away.”