“So then do mages just keep getting stronger and stronger?” asked Dakkon, curious. “If so, then after a few years, would a hardworking mage be unstoppable?”
“That really remains to be seen,” Benton said. “The world is still fairly new to us after all, and this game is a lot deeper than anything else I’ve ever played. If I had to guess, though, there is no hard limit to a mage’s power.”
“Could a shaman do everything a mage can do, if they had made the right pacts?” asked Dakkon.
“Maybe,” said Zelle, “but shamans do have access to some of the magics exclusive to faith based casters, too. And some shamans even specialize in imbuing spirits into themselves or others to increase combat capabilities.”
“Shamans do sound really interesting,” said Dakkon.
“That’s true,” said Benton. “But they are fairly unconventional to level up. I read a guide and couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”
Zelle looked like she was considering something, then shrugged. “I don’t understand it very well, either. Raising one’s character level is easy, but getting my shaman level up has been inconsistent at best.”
Dakkon knew he couldn’t afford to get tied down to a class he had no idea how to level up. After hearing that it wasn’t straightforward, he’d have to get some solid details on how to progress before he’d even consider becoming a shaman.
“Ramses, how do you like playing a rogue?” asked Dakkon.
“Oh, it’s great,” said Ramses. “Sure, I don’t control the powers of dead animals or the winds or whatever, but I can stick a dagger in someone and there are several…” he cleared his throat, “opportunities if one is keen to look for ‘em.”
“Does it pay well?’ asked Dakkon.
“I figured you’d know with that dagger strapped to your hip,” said Ramses. “But, the class itself doesn’t get you anything. A clever rogue will, however, always manage to make enough to keep playing at the very least.”
“How about you, Hebbeson?” asked Dakkon. “How’s archery in Chronicle?”
“You aim at something, then you shoot,” said Hebbeson. “There’s not a whole lot else to it.”
“Fair enough, I guess,” said Dakkon. The terseness of Hebbeson’s reply put a temporary damper on the conversation, but soon it was rekindled with discussion of their roles for the upcoming battles.
“Zelle can heal and summon a small swarm of bees, but that’s about the extent of her combat prowess at the moment,” said Ramses. “Truth be told, I’d rather not be covered in bees, so I’d prefer you just stuck to healing.”
Zelle nodded. If she was offended, she didn’t let it show.
“Benton will use sharp gales to slash at the eye and snout area,” Ramses said. “If we’re lucky, that’ll cause the oversized boar to flinch instead of rampaging and trampling us.”
Benton spoke up, “If we’re in dire straits I can expend the rest of my mana to push the krimmer away as we try to run.”
“We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that, but good thinking,” said Ramses. “I’m going to sneak up behind it and poke it in the rump—or the underbelly if it’s not thrashing about too much. That leaves the position of acting meat shield to go to one of you two.” Ramses looked between Dakkon and Hebbeson.
Hebbeson touched his bow and began to open his mouth, but before he could say a word, Dakkon spoke up, “I’m unreasonably squishy right now but I do good damage. I’ll try to flank with you, Ramses, so if one turns on either of us, the other can still get him.”
Hebbeson sighed, let go of his bow, and grabbed the lone spear that the party had been hauling along from the cart. “Fine,” he said. “But you’d better be quick about killing the damned thing.”
It wasn’t much longer until the group of five was at their destination. There, Dakkon saw a krimmer in its full glory for the first time, gnashing at and rolling over a fallen tree with some sort of green and brown fungus growing on its side. The beast was large. Several times the size of a man. “That thing must weigh a ton,” Dakkon thought. It had large yellowed tusks, black matted fur, and could be smelled from where they now stood, downwind a good hundred meters away. And gods, did it ever smell. Dakkon decided the scent smelled like a concoction made from burnt hair, stale urine, and raw chicken left to spoil. It was decidedly foul.
“People eat that?” asked Dakkon as they moved in towards their quarry.
“Try to keep quiet,” said Ramses. “As soon as that pig notices us he’ll charge. We want to be as close as possible, so he doesn’t have a chance to build any speed or he’ll tear right through us.”
The five approached with Dakkon and Ramses farthest forward, each off to a side and moving silently in an attempt to flank the powerful black beast. Next in line came Hebbeson, spear ready to be braced against the ground should the creature draw on him. Behind him trailed Zelle and Benton, moving cautiously forward, holding any further action until they were discovered.
Dakkon and Ramses passed by the boar without notice. Hebbeson, despite or perhaps because of his building anticipation of the fight, failed to notice a particularly dry twig in his path—which snapped loudly—causing the beast to whirl and face him. Hebbeson was about 15 meters from the beast, which would surely charge him, so Dakkon made a decision.
Dakkon shouted, causing the krimmer to spin once again. Despite stepping on the twig, Hebbeson was unfazed by the near calamity, and used the distraction that Dakkon provided him to run forward and stab the boar in its backside. Hebbeson used only enough force to break the skin, pulling back his spear, lest it be caught in the krimmer and wrenched from his hands as the beast twirled to face him once again.
As Dakkon and Ramses rushed forward to capitalize on the situation, the krimmer threw Hebbeson to the ground tumbling with a mighty whip of its head—Hebbeson’s spear had been set, butt into the ground, to meet the creature’s assault. The krimmer impaled itself on the spear which, remarkably, held together in one piece, but was lodged irrecoverably inside the gigantic hog.
The krimmer staggered, but was resilient. It moved to gnash at the downed Hebbeson, but a blade of air cut at its eyes, courtesy of their wind mage, Benton. Just then, a translucent blue, flittering, and luminous butterfly landed on the downed Hebbeson, giving him the strength to pull himself to his feet—a heal thanks to Zelle, their shaman.
Ramses arrived at the boar a second before Dakkon, striking twice in rapid succession at the beast’s hind legs to hamper its mobility. Dakkon imitated the motion of Ramses’s two strikes, but aimed his for the creature’s underbelly.
[You have slashed a krimmer in a vulnerable location for 522 damage.]
[You have slashed a krimmer in a vulnerable location for 440 damage. Krimmer has been slain.]
[You have gained 520 experience! EXP until next level 2,466/3,960]
The krimmer dropped right beside Dakkon, nearly crushing him. The party looked from member to member, confused by what had just happened.
“Did we find an injured one?” asked Benton.
“It didn’t look injured,” said Ramses. “Do animals get sick in this game?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” said Benton.
Dakkon was sure that the krimmer was a higher level than the goat men he had fought during the quest in Greenburne, but he didn’t receive nearly as much experience. Before, his group had been receiving double experience gain from being the first to discover that particular dungeon, but he was still hoping for more from the krimmer than what he received. It was possible that he was losing some experience due to a level difference between himself and his group members as well.
“… Dakkon?” asked Ramses.