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In came the twin axes.
It was a familiar scene, yet this time Meliadol didn't dodge. He took the blow head on, stepping into the strike, accepting it, and returning an attack of his own. Blood sprayed, and his health bar screamed, yet he didn't back down. Back and forth it went. There was no attempt to reduce damage, no fancy footwork. It was a slugfest, a simple trading of blows.
Yet, in between the attacks, Meliadol had reached into his side pouch to produce a vial full of muddy green liquid. The potion contents were drained instantly, and he was surrounded in a gentle green glow as the healing regeneration took hold.
The skeletons of Styxx did not care about such things, continuing to attack with a single minded relentlessness common among undead.
The potion usage was almost flawless, with only the slightest pause in the rhythm of the fight. Yet that pause made Meliadol grimace. It was such a small hiccup, but he felt it distinctly because it was so insignificant. Like a rock in a shoe, he knew it was there, even if others didn't.
Bast had assigned him this training to do every time he logged on. He was to grind, kill repeatedly, the mobs in Styxx, using a certain amount of potions from a list the berserker provided. Now that he was level eight, he was high enough in level to take the skeletons on in a slugfest. The purpose of this was to get used to using potions while in combat, and to familiarize himself with the types of potions available to him.
Every day that he logged on, there was a list of the potions, along with amounts, to use that day from Bast inside of his mailbox. Each grouping had a trick to it, a challenge inherent to the system.
This current list was weak regeneration mixed with dodge potions. After almost dying a few times, Meliadol quickly learned to take the regeneration potions early, so he could maximize his time using dodge potions to heal up while the mob couldn't hit him. It was simple enough, yet the window for error was surprisingly small. He had to pull up his HUD often to keep an eye on the cooldowns; a difficult prospect to split your attention in the midst of combat.
In this way, he was slowly becoming familiar not only with the potion system, but with fighting while observing his own statuses. The amount of skill required to do so was enlightening. It was like standing on the beach and seeing the ocean stretch to the horizon.
Though, he could admit, it was slightly aggravating to learn a new system. Growing pains as it were. Yet Meliadol did it with no complaints. He wanted to improve, and after seeing the skills of Bast and everyone else, he was willing to take whatever help they could give.
With a final swing Meliadol's sword, the skeleton warrior he had been fighting crumpled up, nothing more than a pile of bones. It took just a moment for him to loot it, and since he was out of his assigned potions of the day, that meant the rest of his time was his own.
Training was done.
With his sword over his shoulder, he expertly avoided the patrols around the inside of the Skeleton Boneyard, heading toward the portal to Arendall. He contemplated just using his Necklace of Recall to instantly portal to town, but he wanted to save the hour long cooldown to return later, after he completed a few quests.
On a whim, he opened up his HUD to see if Bast was on, but was disappointed that this wasn't the case. The berserker had warned him that he would be busy with real life commitments for the next few days, yet he still found time to log on to send him a list to help out with training. Meliadol was silently grateful, and he worked hard to pay Bast back with results.
Still, his mind gravitated towards the last list Bast had sent him. On the bottom, a small message had been written:
"PS: You're almost level ten. Have you given thought on the class path you wish to take? If not, you might wanna start! :)"
With those few words, the berserker had brought an issue to the forefront of Meliadol's mind. The problem being that he had no clue what route he wanted to go. As he was getting more and more invested into Nevergarden, he started looking up more information on his budding passion. From discussion videos to online forums and blogs, he studied the words and opinions of those who also called Nevergarden their game of choice. Couple that with the host of links to resources Bast had sent him, he had a vast pool of knowledge to learn from. Yet none of that could compare to actually playing the class. He had no idea firsthand what the various classes felt like, how they played.
Meliadol had considered going to the Arena and watching fights like he had seen Darlia participate in, but it was a weak substitute for actually playing as a class. If only it was like a car and he could test drive them with no repercussions!
Meliadol realized this was an issue every player faced around this point of their leveling. It wasn't like people could look up videos of gameplay. Every player in Nevergarden had to make this choice knowing that they'd only have one chance to change their class if they chose something they found out they didn't like. They gave you one do-over. That was it. And you couldn't just reroll your character to get around this either. Your account was synced to your unique brain wave fingerprint, and you were only allowed to have one permanent character. Deletion wasn't allowed, because even if you quit, it'd be saved on a server for as long as the game remained.
Nevergarden was a punishing game, and despite a vocal minority of players on the forums, surprisingly, most had come to peace with this. The developers had already shown they were unwavering with the theme and direction of their game system. If you bought the game and didn't accept this unyielding mindset, both developers and community usually recommended you quit.
Nevergarden wasn't for you then.
"What to do, what to do…" Meliadol sighed to himself as he walked the dirt trail.
Occasionally red lightning would streak across the sky, bathing the dark landscape crimson. Far away, the lightning revealed the City of Lost Hope, like crooked teeth, against the soot-black sky. According to the low-level intro quests that Meliadol had done, it was a place that fell to depravity and ruin thousands of years ago. Now filled with undead monstrosities of a bygone age, it was a place that only higher level adventurers dared to explore.
He paused at the top of a cliff side. The wind was stronger this high up, and it felt good against his face as he closed his eyes. In a way, this horrid place of death and hardship had a streak of beauty. Not in an obvious sense, but Meliadol appreciated the work that went into the "feel" of such a land. Even now, after all this time he had spent within Styxx, it sent shivers down his spine.
Still, it was time he moved on.
A few minutes later, the trail led him back to the twin obsidian arches that served as the portal back to Arendall. The device responded to his pendant, and the ivory towers of the city appeared in the mirror surface. It was a welcoming sight.
He held his breath, ready to step through when the surface of the portal bubbled violently. A figure flew out of the portal and slammed into him. As one, they fell off the dais, to the hard ground below, landing in a pile of limbs and cursing.
It was agonizing moments before he managed to disentangle himself enough to sit up. A familiar set of emerald eyes stared up at him. "You!" the woman spat, and Meliadol immediately recognized her from before as the woman that had been running away from Bast and Darlia, "Shit, I don't have time for this. Get off me!"
"I'm so–" Meliadol didn't have time to apologize as the woman arched her back, throwing him off with surprising force.
The woman suddenly towered over him, her raven black hair disheveled around her face, cascading over her eyes in a waterfall. She looked about to say something else, but her focus flicked to behind him. Instinctively he looked back and saw three figures emerge from the portal.
"Shit!" she cursed again under her breath.
One was a thin rail of a man with long ears, and the wings on his back indicated he was of the pixie race. He held a staff and wore ornate robes that swirled behind him with every step. On his flanks were two heavily armored players, one with a shield and sword, and the other surrounded by ethereal floating weapons that seem to circle him with a mind of their own.
Meliadol saw the woman take a step back, as if to run. The thin man immediately held out his hand, as if asking for payment. "Give back the item you stole, thief."
The woman cut quite the imposing figure against the backdrop of Styxx's sky. Wrapped in bands of dark leather armor, with a pair of thin chains curled around her midsection like a sash, even Meliadol could admit she looked every bit the badass she carried herself as.
She tilted her head to the side, giving the trio a lopsided grin, "Sorry, but I must have lost it in the portal. You're shit outta luck!"
"Cut the shit!" The man roared, taking another step forward, "That crafting pattern doesn't belong to you. You stole it, and I demand you return it or else!"
"Or else…what?"
"Or else we kill you over and over again until you drop every piece of gear in your inventory and return to Arendall as a naked reminder to not steal from players!" The player with the circling weapons stated, confidence lending weight to his words.
"You think you can do it?"
"There's three of us and one of you."
The two parties seemed to take no notice of Meliadol, and he began to scoot back on his rear, trying to get out from between them. Emerald eyes locked onto his and so quickly that he wasn't sure if he was seeing things; they turned blue and then back again to their normal color. A message popped on his screen.
[01:23:35]Heoh has sent you a message.
Accept Decline
Heoh? Was that this woman? Curious, he briefly pulled up his HUD, targeting the woman. Sure enough, her player tag above her head confirmed his suspicions.
Heoh, level 60 Ghost.
What an odd name.
He accepted her message without further stalling.
[01:23:35]Heoh to you: dont move
That was it? It wasn't a question or a suggestion. It felt like an order. Meliadol felt his hackles rise, but instead of reflexively ignoring the order like he was tempted to, he decided to give it a moment of thought.
Why would she ask him to do such a thing? It wasn't like he had to worry about being killed during a PvP fight. He wasn't able to attack or be attacked by other players until he was level twenty. This was to prevent high level players from going over to low areas to kill new players. But the developers obviously thought by level twenty, one was experienced enough to learn what death meant. From there on, it was open season. Players could and often would kill you, and your death actually resulted in loss of experience.
It was a brutal eye opener for many.
Try as he might, he couldn't think of a good reason why she told him what she did. After a bit of debate, he decided to play along with the rude woman for now. Mostly to see what happened.
He didn't move, even as the three players spread out to encircle Heoh.
Her dual daggers came out. They were wicked instruments, curved and serrated, stained black with slightly glowing scarlet streak running through them. She flipped them between her fingers in an obvious display of skill, as if to say "come on".
With his HUD now open, Meliadol saw the classes of these attackers clearly. A Wizard, a Weaponmaster, and a Knight? They all wore the guild tag of
Much happier, he sat back, content to be an observer, despite being right in the middle of everything. It wasn't like they could hurt him! He had the best seat in the house!
The first to make a move was the Weaponmaster. His floating weapons became missiles, rocketing toward Heoh with all the force of a battering ram.
The Ghost began to flicker, like a picture slightly off center. In an astonishing display of agility she weaved between each blade as they crashed into the ground, sending up showers of rock and debris. Each movement left after trails of her figure following, and Meliadol was having difficulty pinpointing where the real one lay.
Like a slingshot she crouched and sprang forward, daggers leading the way. The other two were not idle though. With a wave of his hand, the Wizard summoned a column of fire to erupt from the ground. Both Meliadol and Heoh were engulfed in flame, yet he was unharmed due to PvP immunity. But from within the flames, he could see the shadow of Heoh…
…which disintegrated like dust scattered into the wind.
Meliadol almost stood up in alarm, but immediately fell back down on his ass when Heoh appeared behind the weapon master. A flash of metal and tearing sound as her daggers struck, yet it was the Ghost that recoiled and stumbled, blood running down the concave of her neck.
It was only then that Meliadol remembered that there actually three players she was fighting against. The Knight glowed a dark blue, and a thin tendril of power could be seen connecting him to the Weaponmaster. Blood also flowed from the Knight's throat, a mirror to both the strike and damage sustained by Heoh.
Somehow, with some combination of skills, the Knight had taken the blow for the Weaponmaster and returned the damage to Heoh.
With a roar, the Knight rushed in, as if intent on trampling his opponent. A mighty step forward and a quick spin brought his shield around with a vicious swing. In a streak of blue light, his shield bash actually went through Heoh, her flickering growing worse in the wake of the attack.
It missed?
Was the image in front of him even the actual player?
The Wizard must have thought the same thing, striking the ground with his staff. Centered on the impact point, a torrent of ice crashed forth, spreading out, sucking everything it touched into an icy prison.
The specter of Heoh was frozen mid-strike…
"Shit, abo–" The Weaponmaster was cut-off as Heoh flickered into existence right over the Wizard as her frozen facsimile crumbled. Again came the twin daggers…
Tink! Szzzzzzzzzzt!
The wicked weapons skidded off a shield, sending sparks arcing into the air before Heoh danced back, outside of the range of the Knight's counterattacking sword.
Wait, what?
Meliadol glanced back to where the Knight was only a second before. The Wizard was now there, fingers already moving for his next cast. What had happened? Somehow the two had switched places almost instantly?
But the Knight wasn't done yet. He followed Heoh's movement, advancing forward, shield held up to her face. Yet he wasn't attacking, just keeping pace with her retreat. Why? As if in answer, the Weaponmaster summoned even more weapons to surround himself, the deadly instruments poised to strike.
But it was too obvious. Both him and the Wizard were just charging their attacks openly! Meliadol realized the purpose of the Knight's odd movements. He was between her line of sight of the other two. With the shield held up, there was no way she could see the attacks they were preparing, though she probably suspected it was the case.
But the Knight went even further. With a yell, his shield began to glow, a wind whipping around his person, as if he was a storm intent on drawing everything around him inward.
"Come on! Make me bleed!" He growled through clenched teeth, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth.
Against all logic, Heoh listened and turned, striking again and again at the Knight who just absorbed it all with his raised shield. Yet, even to an inexperienced Meliadol, he could tell she didn't want this. With every movement she struggled, yet whatever weird ability the Knight had used kept her within its grasp, forcing her to stand toe-to-toe with him.
Two figures within the center of a storm.
The stalemate could not last. As the Wizard reached his crescendo of casting, another set of ethereal weapons appeared above the Weaponmaster. The two attacked as one. Whips of lightning mixed with ethereal axes, swords, and spears to create a combination attack that left Meliadol breathless.
A torrential downpour of magic and steel rained down on Heoh without a shred of mercy.
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