Fey was hungry, so she headed towards the tavern. Blade fell into step beside her.
After a few seconds, he asked, “Where are we going?”
“I am going to get something to eat. I have no idea where you’re going.”
Since Blade had not eaten for about the same amount of time as Fey, he considered it to be a reasonable plan and kept walking with her. Wanting to avoid the hostile comments that would inevitably be aimed his way if Fey continued to be averse to his presence, he tried convincing her that continuing as a team would be a good idea.
“Hey, we did pretty well together collecting those herbs. Why don’t we keep on working as a party?”
“I don’t need a me– Ahem, two warriors don’t make a particularly effective party.” Fey had been about to say ‘I don’t need a meat shield anymore,’ but decided not to be (more) rude at the last second. Instead, she went with the argument that she and Blade did not make a particularly effective fighting unit. Effective parties usually combined short-range and long-range fighters, magic with melee attacks, as well as classes able to buff and heal. Unless they had group-based techniques or simply worked extremely well as a team, two warriors in a party would not defeat monsters at a faster rate than when alone.
Instead of being put off by her argument, Blade took it as a suggestion. “Let’s look for some other party members then.”
Eew, more people. Fey did not verbalize her feelings, but her facial expression eloquently conveyed how she felt about the idea.
When they entered the tavern, Tallen came bustling up to greet them. “Welcome! What will it be today?” Recognizing Fey from earlier (see Chapter 4 if you don’t remember), he brightened. “Ah, the young elfess! (making words up now, are we?) Have you brought me more twiggys?”
“I’m afraid not,” Fey replied contritely.
“Ah well. I’ll feed you anyways,” said Tallen jokingly.
“Many thanks,” Fey replied.
Fey seated herself at one of the tables as Tallen disappeared into the kitchen. Blade sat across from her, looking curious as to her interaction with the tavern-keeper. He had noticed that Fey treated Kallara like a real human being rather than an NPC, and her conversation with Tallen followed the pattern. Being still rather incompetent at dealing with Fey (*understatement*), he broached the subject.
“Hey, Fey, you know that NPCs aren’t real people, right?”
Out of the many (many, many) things that annoyed Fey, number one was probably having her intelligence insulted. If Fey’s liking for Blade had been graphed from their first interaction, it would have started at some small negative value (-10), gradually creeping up to a small positive value (+4) as they collected herbs. That comment then plunged the scale back down into the negative (-1000).
Fey plunged into ‘heavy sarcasm mode,’ her voice dropping an octave and words dripping with scorn. “Really? Oh, but they look so real! What a big surprise! I never would have figured it out without you telling me!”
Blade backpedaled, holding his hands up defensively, sensing that he had sparked true irritation, if not outright anger, from his (soon-to-be-ex-) party member. “Hey, sorry.”
Blade would have been in for at least five more minutes of tongue-lashing, but he was saved (*rescued*) by Tallen’s arrival with two heaping plates of food. Fey’s attention was instantly diverted to the mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips, which looked perfectly fried, golden and crispy. As a bonus, there were even small containers of ketchup on each plate (our heroine really likes ketchup).
“That looks amazing,” Fey breathed, as Tallen set the plates on the table. The tavern-keeper grinned at her enthusiasm. “It tastes even better,” he boasted.
Fey ate a fry dipped in ketchup, and her eyes closed involuntarily at the amazing taste. Ten out of ten.
Still grinning, Tallen said, “I’ll just let you enjoy your meal then,” and retreated back to the kitchen.
Fey continued eating, having completely forgotten about any irritation she had with Blade. (The like/dislike graph now has a blank section where no data was collected.)
Curiously, Blade tried the food. It was very good, but fish and chips were not his favourite food, so he did not go into raptures over it. As the two ate, Blade was rather amazed at the amount of food Fey consumed. She quickly devoured all the pieces of fried fish on her plate, then slowly savoured the remaining fries. He had expected someone as thin as Fey to eat very lightly. In reality, Arwyn’s food intake was very irregular. If she spent a whole day sitting in front of the computer or reading a book, she could eat very small amounts of food and feel full. However, if she did any sort of physical exertion, her eating habits started to resemble that of a swarm of locusts (or a teenage boy). Having spent the (virtual) day walking around the forest, running around after monsters, and beating things up, Fey had worked up an appetite. Blade himself felt full after eating three quarters of his plate, but his manly pride prevented him from losing an eating contest to a girl, and he cleared his plate.
Even though the delicious food had rendered her fairly oblivious to the world, Fey could not help but notice when a female player sat down next to Blade. She was an elf attired in the same newbie outfit Fey herself had been wearing the day before, though the stranger appeared to have taken her hair out of the default braid, letting it hang down to her shoulders.
Evaluating the stranger’s appearance, Fey could tell that the newbie had made some unfortunate choices for her avatar’s appearance. She guessed that in real life, the girl had a round, cute face; when she had chosen the elven race, the sharper angles of the elven ‘mold’ cancelled out the round features rather than enhancing them. This resulted in a rather plain appearance that was neither cute nor elegant. Additionally, the stranger had either kept her real blonde hair colour or chosen the hue; it did not complement the pale skin of a moon elf and made her look washed-out and sallow. Fey sighed internally at the insult to aesthetics, but did not care enough to stop eating her fries (*omnom*).
The strange girl cozied up to Blade in a blatantly flirtatious manner. “Hi, do you mind if I join your party?” she asked in a voice that Fey instantly found annoying, having a bit of a whiny tone.
Blade, to his credit, did not appear affected by the girl’s overly friendly body language (or maybe he didn’t notice). He did, however, sound enthusiastic at the suggestion. “We were just talking about looking for more party members!” Fey shot him a glare at his gross exaggeration, and he hastily tacked on, “What do you think, Fey?”
It did not escape Fey’s notice that the girl looked less-than-pleased that Blade had deferred the decision to Fey. Despite her initial negative impression of the girl, Fey proceeded logically. “What are your level and class?”
The girl looked resentful, but answered, “I’m still level one.”
…She didn’t even finish the slime quest! Fey’s impression that the girl was lazy, not very clever, and looking for a guy to mooch off of was confirmed when she continued, “but I’m sure with your help, I would level up very quickly.” It was obvious (even to Blade) that the “your” in that sentence excluded Fey.
“Uh… Well…” Blade hesitated, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to be saddled with a newbie (n00b).
Fey, on the other hand, had no problems with being rude. “No,” she stated flatly, then went back to eating her fries (omnomnom).
“Nobody asked you,” said the girl, the whiny tone in her voice becoming more pronounced (actually, Blade asked her, you idiot). It was becoming clear to Fey that the girl was trying to play some sort of female dominance game (or something) in order to establish herself as Fey’s superior (or something). Normally, Fey would not hesitate to inflict the sort of emotional wounds that would take years of therapy to heal (Vicious Strike ain’t just a game skill, it’s a way of life), but refrained for two reasons. One, she would have to stop eating her fries in order to talk; two, the (dubious) prize of winning this particular confrontation would be the ‘pleasure’ of Blade’s company, which she was currently attempting to rid herself of. She settled for giving the girl a patronizing look, guaranteed to irritate.
Finally, Fey finished her food. Blade was still hesitating, so Fey assumed (incorrectly) that he wanted to party with the girl, but wanted to avoid having a disagreement with Fey. She resolved his (non-existent) dilemma by saying, “Well, Blade, I shall leave you in the company of this charming young lady.” The amount of sarcasm loaded onto the word “charming” would be enough to make a small child cry. Having just had a great idea as to what her next adventure would be, Fey hurriedly dissolved the party and left the table before Blade could say more than, “Hey-!”
Blade tried to get up and follow, but was hampered by the charming young lady (ooh, now even the dignified non-parenthetical narrator is getting all snarky), who clung to his arm and said, “We don’t need her.”
Ignoring the minor scene happening between Blade and the girl (our heroine is really a bit cruel), Fey went over to Tallen to pay for her meal and to ask a question. “Hey, Tallen, is there a stronger monster than twiggys that can be used for firewood?”
Tallen’s eyes lit up at the question. “Indeed there is! Treants[i] live up past the twiggy clearing, just before you reach the Dark Forest. Each is about a man’s height, big enough for a whole day’s cooking. Bring me a load of those, and I’ll make sure you never have to pay for a meal again.”
“What level are they?” The reward for this quest was attractive, but not enough so that Fey was willing to risk her (virtual) life.
“Fifteen.”
Perfect for some levelling up. “I’ll go after some treants right now. Hope you have some delicious food waiting when I get back.”
Tallen waved that away (of course, of course). Eager for Fey to obtain as many logs as possible, he gave her some advice. “You’ll want to get one of those magical backpacks that lightens and makes items smaller. They’re sold at the general store.” Fey thanked him and headed towards the general store.
Jeral (see Chapter 3 if you don’t remember) was again on duty at the general store and recognized Fey from her earlier visit. “Ah yes, the fair maiden who was in need of rope. How may I be of assistance today?” He smiled charmingly at Fey, and was rather surprised that, in contrast to her previous flustered reaction, she now appeared completely unaffected by his flirtatious manner. Fey had stopped just outside the shop to compose herself before entering (*mentally prepared*) in order to not act like an idiot in front of the handsome elf. “I would like to look at the magical backpacks, if you please,” she said, all coolness and politesse (gettin’ all fancy with the French vocabulary, are we?).
Rather taken aback, and even wondering if Fey was the same person who had visited earlier, Jeral led the way to the correct shelf, stocked with various backpacks made of brown leather. He explained each item. “Here’s your basic unmagicked backpack, only ten gold. The next shelf down holds the weight reducing backpacks, half-weight at 100g, quarter-weight at 1000g, eighth-weight at 10000g, and so on. Below those are the size-shrinking packs, tenth-size, twentieth-size, and fiftieth-size at 100g, 1000g, and 10000g. The bottom shelf holds the packs that both reduce weight and size, at 500g, 5000g, and 50000g for each level.”
Being presented with numbers for analysis sent Fey into robot mode, making it even easier to ignore Jeral’s attractive smile. In the end, Fey finished her calculations and made her purchase. She had to go to the bank and withdraw almost all of her gold (which was a fairly painful experience), but she saw buying the packs as a permanent investment and spent the money willingly.
“I would like to buy eleven of the tenth-sized packs and four of the half-weight packs, please.”
Jeral was confused at the unusual request, but dutifully gathered a pile of the requested items. “That will be 1500g.”
Fey handed over the money, smiled politely at Jeral, and left the shop carrying a considerable pile of leather. Jeral shook his head bemusedly. “That’s a strange one,” he muttered to himself.
Fey started on the path towards the treants, waiting until she was deep enough into the trees to be unobserved before she dealt with her purchases. Back when she had received her first items (see Chapter 2 if you don’t remember), Fey had noticed that there were no item slots to ‘equip’ anything. She had then drawn the conclusion that items in Fantasia were not as restricted as in other games. From that conclusion, she had guessed that she would be able to place her magical packs inside each other for a multiplicative effect on the magic. With her purchases, Fey calculated that she could put ten of the size-reducing packs inside the eleventh, creating a hundredth-size pack. She could then place the size-reducing packs successively into the four weight-reducing packs, creating the effect of reducing size 100 times and weight 16 times, all for a tiny fraction of the cost of a single magical pack with similar effects. For now, she did not bother with the complicated arrangement and simply put all the packs into one, shouldered it, and walked on.
***
Leandriel stood at the edge of Skyhaven, the (not-so-creatively-named) major celestial city that floated among the clouds. Looking down past the clouds, he saw the endless green of forest canopy and concluded that the floating city was currently travelling over the Elvenwood. Taking a deep breath, Leandriel stepped off the edge into thin air.
With his wings spread, Leandriel waited for his descent to change from a stomach-churning free-fall to a controlled glide before he cautiously began to beat his wings. The past few days had been very challenging, adjusting to his two new limbs. First of all, the wings were huge. The game developers had decided to follow some of the laws of physics, making the wingspans of creatures large enough to theoretically support their weight in flight. In the case of Leandriel’s muscled 75kg-frame, plus full plate armour, that meant a wingspan of 6m. When folded, each wing jutted well over his head and trailed all the way to the ground. He had not yet seen himself in a mirror, but, judging by the reactions of the people around him, he guessed that he cut quite an imposing figure. It was a good thing that people automatically avoided crowding him now, because he still felt clumsy doing something as simple as turning around when walking.
His second challenge had been simply learning to move his unnaturally-added limbs. It had taken a couple of hours of experimentation before he learned what his wings ‘felt’ like and could move them reliably. Fortunately, the correct series of movements required for beating his wings in flight were programmed ‘instinctively’ into the wings, or he was sure his first forays into the air would have been fatal.
Last but not least of his challenges was the amount of stamina that flying consumed. While the huge muscles and lungs that would theoretically need to accompany the huge wings had been eliminated in favour of aesthetics, he certainly felt the exhaustion from using his phantom muscles. His wings ‘felt’ rather like arms when controlling their movement, but the power required during flight was even greater than his legs could generate. As a level 99 warrior, Leandriel had vast amounts of strength and stamina, but he was already starting to feel out of breath from his few minutes of flight. He went back to gliding to conserve energy, circling over the forest and wishing there were thermal updrafts he could ride.
Still, Leandriel thought the inconvenience of having wings was definitely worth the trouble. He did not particularly like adrenaline-inducing activities like roller coasters or extreme sports, but the thrill of self-sustained flight was something he savoured. In the blue skies of the bright and sunny day, Leandriel planned to practice flying until he ran out of stamina, then return to Skyhaven and move on to testing other features of Fantasia.
***
On the rather long walk to the treants, Fey did some experimenting. Pulling out a thornweed thorn she had saved (see Chapter 10 if you don’t remember), she held it in front of Amethyst. “Here, eat this.” The slime opened her mouth and engulfed the thorn. (Do not try this at home. Ingesting toxic substances generally leads to ill effects, like dying.) Fey could see it floating inside the slime until it was gradually digested.
Interesting. It appeared that instead of only being able to secrete one kind of poison, Amethyst could memorize and copy all poisons she was presented with (way OP[ii], just for fun). If that were the case, Fey wanted Amethyst to learn Magic’s blue mushroom poison, but gave up that idea considering that multitude of possible effects that Spore could inflict. Instead, she pulled out another thorn and pricked herself.
Fey got a minor headache from the poison, but persisted in training her Immunity ability as she walked. She repeated the cycle of poisoning herself, then waiting for her health to replenish a total of eight times before arriving at her destination.
Footnotes:
[i] Treants are a race of sentient tree-like creatures from the Dungeons & Dragons universe
[ii] gamer abbreviation for “over-powered”
Fey was hungry, so she headed towards the tavern. Blade fell into step beside her.
After a few seconds, he asked, “Where are we going?”
“I am going to get something to eat. I have no idea where you’re going.”
Since Blade had not eaten for about the same amount of time as Fey, he considered it to be a reasonable plan and kept walking with her. Wanting to avoid the hostile comments that would inevitably be aimed his way if Fey continued to be averse to his presence, he tried convincing her that continuing as a team would be a good idea.
“Hey, we did pretty well together collecting those herbs. Why don’t we keep on working as a party?”
“I don’t need a me– Ahem, two warriors don’t make a particularly effective party.” Fey had been about to say ‘I don’t need a meat shield anymore,’ but decided not to be (more) rude at the last second. Instead, she went with the argument that she and Blade did not make a particularly effective fighting unit. Effective parties usually combined short-range and long-range fighters, magic with melee attacks, as well as classes able to buff and heal. Unless they had group-based techniques or simply worked extremely well as a team, two warriors in a party would not defeat monsters at a faster rate than when alone.
Instead of being put off by her argument, Blade took it as a suggestion. “Let’s look for some other party members then.”
Eew, more people. Fey did not verbalize her feelings, but her facial expression eloquently conveyed how she felt about the idea.
When they entered the tavern, Tallen came bustling up to greet them. “Welcome! What will it be today?” Recognizing Fey from earlier (see Chapter 4 if you don’t remember), he brightened. “Ah, the young elfess! (making words up now, are we?) Have you brought me more twiggys?”
“I’m afraid not,” Fey replied contritely.
“Ah well. I’ll feed you anyways,” said Tallen jokingly.
“Many thanks,” Fey replied.
Fey seated herself at one of the tables as Tallen disappeared into the kitchen. Blade sat across from her, looking curious as to her interaction with the tavern-keeper. He had noticed that Fey treated Kallara like a real human being rather than an NPC, and her conversation with Tallen followed the pattern. Being still rather incompetent at dealing with Fey (*understatement*), he broached the subject.
“Hey, Fey, you know that NPCs aren’t real people, right?”
Out of the many (many, many) things that annoyed Fey, number one was probably having her intelligence insulted. If Fey’s liking for Blade had been graphed from their first interaction, it would have started at some small negative value (-10), gradually creeping up to a small positive value (+4) as they collected herbs. That comment then plunged the scale back down into the negative (-1000).
Fey plunged into ‘heavy sarcasm mode,’ her voice dropping an octave and words dripping with scorn. “Really? Oh, but they look so real! What a big surprise! I never would have figured it out without you telling me!”
Blade backpedaled, holding his hands up defensively, sensing that he had sparked true irritation, if not outright anger, from his (soon-to-be-ex-) party member. “Hey, sorry.”
Blade would have been in for at least five more minutes of tongue-lashing, but he was saved (*rescued*) by Tallen’s arrival with two heaping plates of food. Fey’s attention was instantly diverted to the mouth-watering aroma of fish and chips, which looked perfectly fried, golden and crispy. As a bonus, there were even small containers of ketchup on each plate (our heroine really likes ketchup).
“That looks amazing,” Fey breathed, as Tallen set the plates on the table. The tavern-keeper grinned at her enthusiasm. “It tastes even better,” he boasted.
Fey ate a fry dipped in ketchup, and her eyes closed involuntarily at the amazing taste. Ten out of ten.
Still grinning, Tallen said, “I’ll just let you enjoy your meal then,” and retreated back to the kitchen.
Fey continued eating, having completely forgotten about any irritation she had with Blade. (The like/dislike graph now has a blank section where no data was collected.)
Curiously, Blade tried the food. It was very good, but fish and chips were not his favourite food, so he did not go into raptures over it. As the two ate, Blade was rather amazed at the amount of food Fey consumed. She quickly devoured all the pieces of fried fish on her plate, then slowly savoured the remaining fries. He had expected someone as thin as Fey to eat very lightly. In reality, Arwyn’s food intake was very irregular. If she spent a whole day sitting in front of the computer or reading a book, she could eat very small amounts of food and feel full. However, if she did any sort of physical exertion, her eating habits started to resemble that of a swarm of locusts (or a teenage boy). Having spent the (virtual) day walking around the forest, running around after monsters, and beating things up, Fey had worked up an appetite. Blade himself felt full after eating three quarters of his plate, but his manly pride prevented him from losing an eating contest to a girl, and he cleared his plate.
Even though the delicious food had rendered her fairly oblivious to the world, Fey could not help but notice when a female player sat down next to Blade. She was an elf attired in the same newbie outfit Fey herself had been wearing the day before, though the stranger appeared to have taken her hair out of the default braid, letting it hang down to her shoulders.
Evaluating the stranger’s appearance, Fey could tell that the newbie had made some unfortunate choices for her avatar’s appearance. She guessed that in real life, the girl had a round, cute face; when she had chosen the elven race, the sharper angles of the elven ‘mold’ cancelled out the round features rather than enhancing them. This resulted in a rather plain appearance that was neither cute nor elegant. Additionally, the stranger had either kept her real blonde hair colour or chosen the hue; it did not complement the pale skin of a moon elf and made her look washed-out and sallow. Fey sighed internally at the insult to aesthetics, but did not care enough to stop eating her fries (*omnom*).
The strange girl cozied up to Blade in a blatantly flirtatious manner. “Hi, do you mind if I join your party?” she asked in a voice that Fey instantly found annoying, having a bit of a whiny tone.
Blade, to his credit, did not appear affected by the girl’s overly friendly body language (or maybe he didn’t notice). He did, however, sound enthusiastic at the suggestion. “We were just talking about looking for more party members!” Fey shot him a glare at his gross exaggeration, and he hastily tacked on, “What do you think, Fey?”
It did not escape Fey’s notice that the girl looked less-than-pleased that Blade had deferred the decision to Fey. Despite her initial negative impression of the girl, Fey proceeded logically. “What are your level and class?”
The girl looked resentful, but answered, “I’m still level one.”
…She didn’t even finish the slime quest! Fey’s impression that the girl was lazy, not very clever, and looking for a guy to mooch off of was confirmed when she continued, “but I’m sure with your help, I would level up very quickly.” It was obvious (even to Blade) that the “your” in that sentence excluded Fey.
“Uh… Well…” Blade hesitated, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to be saddled with a newbie (n00b).
Fey, on the other hand, had no problems with being rude. “No,” she stated flatly, then went back to eating her fries (omnomnom).
“Nobody asked you,” said the girl, the whiny tone in her voice becoming more pronounced (actually, Blade asked her, you idiot). It was becoming clear to Fey that the girl was trying to play some sort of female dominance game (or something) in order to establish herself as Fey’s superior (or something). Normally, Fey would not hesitate to inflict the sort of emotional wounds that would take years of therapy to heal (Vicious Strike ain’t just a game skill, it’s a way of life), but refrained for two reasons. One, she would have to stop eating her fries in order to talk; two, the (dubious) prize of winning this particular confrontation would be the ‘pleasure’ of Blade’s company, which she was currently attempting to rid herself of. She settled for giving the girl a patronizing look, guaranteed to irritate.
Finally, Fey finished her food. Blade was still hesitating, so Fey assumed (incorrectly) that he wanted to party with the girl, but wanted to avoid having a disagreement with Fey. She resolved his (non-existent) dilemma by saying, “Well, Blade, I shall leave you in the company of this charming young lady.” The amount of sarcasm loaded onto the word “charming” would be enough to make a small child cry. Having just had a great idea as to what her next adventure would be, Fey hurriedly dissolved the party and left the table before Blade could say more than, “Hey-!”
Blade tried to get up and follow, but was hampered by the charming young lady (ooh, now even the dignified non-parenthetical narrator is getting all snarky), who clung to his arm and said, “We don’t need her.”
Ignoring the minor scene happening between Blade and the girl (our heroine is really a bit cruel), Fey went over to Tallen to pay for her meal and to ask a question. “Hey, Tallen, is there a stronger monster than twiggys that can be used for firewood?”
Tallen’s eyes lit up at the question. “Indeed there is! Treants[i] live up past the twiggy clearing, just before you reach the Dark Forest. Each is about a man’s height, big enough for a whole day’s cooking. Bring me a load of those, and I’ll make sure you never have to pay for a meal again.”
“What level are they?” The reward for this quest was attractive, but not enough so that Fey was willing to risk her (virtual) life.
“Fifteen.”
Perfect for some levelling up. “I’ll go after some treants right now. Hope you have some delicious food waiting when I get back.”
Tallen waved that away (of course, of course). Eager for Fey to obtain as many logs as possible, he gave her some advice. “You’ll want to get one of those magical backpacks that lightens and makes items smaller. They’re sold at the general store.” Fey thanked him and headed towards the general store.
Jeral (see Chapter 3 if you don’t remember) was again on duty at the general store and recognized Fey from her earlier visit. “Ah yes, the fair maiden who was in need of rope. How may I be of assistance today?” He smiled charmingly at Fey, and was rather surprised that, in contrast to her previous flustered reaction, she now appeared completely unaffected by his flirtatious manner. Fey had stopped just outside the shop to compose herself before entering (*mentally prepared*) in order to not act like an idiot in front of the handsome elf. “I would like to look at the magical backpacks, if you please,” she said, all coolness and politesse (gettin’ all fancy with the French vocabulary, are we?).
Rather taken aback, and even wondering if Fey was the same person who had visited earlier, Jeral led the way to the correct shelf, stocked with various backpacks made of brown leather. He explained each item. “Here’s your basic unmagicked backpack, only ten gold. The next shelf down holds the weight reducing backpacks, half-weight at 100g, quarter-weight at 1000g, eighth-weight at 10000g, and so on. Below those are the size-shrinking packs, tenth-size, twentieth-size, and fiftieth-size at 100g, 1000g, and 10000g. The bottom shelf holds the packs that both reduce weight and size, at 500g, 5000g, and 50000g for each level.”
Being presented with numbers for analysis sent Fey into robot mode, making it even easier to ignore Jeral’s attractive smile. In the end, Fey finished her calculations and made her purchase. She had to go to the bank and withdraw almost all of her gold (which was a fairly painful experience), but she saw buying the packs as a permanent investment and spent the money willingly.
“I would like to buy eleven of the tenth-sized packs and four of the half-weight packs, please.”
Jeral was confused at the unusual request, but dutifully gathered a pile of the requested items. “That will be 1500g.”
Fey handed over the money, smiled politely at Jeral, and left the shop carrying a considerable pile of leather. Jeral shook his head bemusedly. “That’s a strange one,” he muttered to himself.
Fey started on the path towards the treants, waiting until she was deep enough into the trees to be unobserved before she dealt with her purchases. Back when she had received her first items (see Chapter 2 if you don’t remember), Fey had noticed that there were no item slots to ‘equip’ anything. She had then drawn the conclusion that items in Fantasia were not as restricted as in other games. From that conclusion, she had guessed that she would be able to place her magical packs inside each other for a multiplicative effect on the magic. With her purchases, Fey calculated that she could put ten of the size-reducing packs inside the eleventh, creating a hundredth-size pack. She could then place the size-reducing packs successively into the four weight-reducing packs, creating the effect of reducing size 100 times and weight 16 times, all for a tiny fraction of the cost of a single magical pack with similar effects. For now, she did not bother with the complicated arrangement and simply put all the packs into one, shouldered it, and walked on.
***
Leandriel stood at the edge of Skyhaven, the (not-so-creatively-named) major celestial city that floated among the clouds. Looking down past the clouds, he saw the endless green of forest canopy and concluded that the floating city was currently travelling over the Elvenwood. Taking a deep breath, Leandriel stepped off the edge into thin air.
With his wings spread, Leandriel waited for his descent to change from a stomach-churning free-fall to a controlled glide before he cautiously began to beat his wings. The past few days had been very challenging, adjusting to his two new limbs. First of all, the wings were huge. The game developers had decided to follow some of the laws of physics, making the wingspans of creatures large enough to theoretically support their weight in flight. In the case of Leandriel’s muscled 75kg-frame, plus full plate armour, that meant a wingspan of 6m. When folded, each wing jutted well over his head and trailed all the way to the ground. He had not yet seen himself in a mirror, but, judging by the reactions of the people around him, he guessed that he cut quite an imposing figure. It was a good thing that people automatically avoided crowding him now, because he still felt clumsy doing something as simple as turning around when walking.
His second challenge had been simply learning to move his unnaturally-added limbs. It had taken a couple of hours of experimentation before he learned what his wings ‘felt’ like and could move them reliably. Fortunately, the correct series of movements required for beating his wings in flight were programmed ‘instinctively’ into the wings, or he was sure his first forays into the air would have been fatal.
Last but not least of his challenges was the amount of stamina that flying consumed. While the huge muscles and lungs that would theoretically need to accompany the huge wings had been eliminated in favour of aesthetics, he certainly felt the exhaustion from using his phantom muscles. His wings ‘felt’ rather like arms when controlling their movement, but the power required during flight was even greater than his legs could generate. As a level 99 warrior, Leandriel had vast amounts of strength and stamina, but he was already starting to feel out of breath from his few minutes of flight. He went back to gliding to conserve energy, circling over the forest and wishing there were thermal updrafts he could ride.
Still, Leandriel thought the inconvenience of having wings was definitely worth the trouble. He did not particularly like adrenaline-inducing activities like roller coasters or extreme sports, but the thrill of self-sustained flight was something he savoured. In the blue skies of the bright and sunny day, Leandriel planned to practice flying until he ran out of stamina, then return to Skyhaven and move on to testing other features of Fantasia.
***
On the rather long walk to the treants, Fey did some experimenting. Pulling out a thornweed thorn she had saved (see Chapter 10 if you don’t remember), she held it in front of Amethyst. “Here, eat this.” The slime opened her mouth and engulfed the thorn. (Do not try this at home. Ingesting toxic substances generally leads to ill effects, like dying.) Fey could see it floating inside the slime until it was gradually digested.
Interesting. It appeared that instead of only being able to secrete one kind of poison, Amethyst could memorize and copy all poisons she was presented with (way OP[ii], just for fun). If that were the case, Fey wanted Amethyst to learn Magic’s blue mushroom poison, but gave up that idea considering that multitude of possible effects that Spore could inflict. Instead, she pulled out another thorn and pricked herself.
Fey got a minor headache from the poison, but persisted in training her Immunity ability as she walked. She repeated the cycle of poisoning herself, then waiting for her health to replenish a total of eight times before arriving at her destination.
Footnotes:
[i] Treants are a race of sentient tree-like creatures from the Dungeons & Dragons universe
[ii] gamer abbreviation for “over-powered”
