"I'll lead you straight to the Chief," Sharulrath said as we traversed the Golden Forest, trotting along the main path leading to Kurghal Village. The pitter-pattering of our hooves on hard ground was a relaxing drumbeat. Mirdabons peeked at us from the sides before burying themselves back into the snow to hide. "I'm sure the Chief will be delighted to finally meet you. And it'll assuage the concerns of our people that you still have not returned from your prayers."
"You're right, the villagers must be thinking I'm the most prayerful youngling in history," I said, pulling myself away from thoughts of kicking Mirdabons to see what Sharulrath's reaction would be.
Mehubanarath had told me that younglings prayed to the ancestors by the cliffs as some form of ritual to adulthood. That was the in-game lore of the start of my character. Now that I thought more about this story, the villagers were quite on the careless side not following up on a youngling they hadn't heard from for a while. Before I could ask a question, Sharulrath was ready with his exposition.
"None are allowed to disturb a youngling's communion with the ancestors," he said, looking over his shoulder at me. "It may take a candle's notch, and it may take a day or several, it could be weeks. We may never know, for the ancestors could give a youngling a lengthy vision of their destiny, and we are not to stop it."
"When do you check up on the youngling?" I asked. After learning their story, I expected they'd be overprotective of the younglings, given that they—or rather we—only had one settlement left after the Mountain Guardian caused the Great Quake.
"The youngling will return to the village when the time is right."
"That's a nice way of saying that you don't bother. Can I call child services here? I’m technically still a child. What if something bad happened to a youngling during his prayers? What if he fell off the cliff?"
Sharulrath throatily laughed like a parched donkey. "That'd be a sight! I'd give one of my spears to see a Mardukryon with a hollow skull fall over the cliffs."
That can be an easy way for me to get a spear. I might try that next time, but for now, I was excited to enter Kurghal Village. I enjoyed my short time at Amberkeld Town, including its jail, even if it was more of a generic fantasy town—a medieval Eroba aesthetic with magical elements like that in the fantasy books of my childhood.
In contrast, I expected Kurghal Village to be outlandish. Crude, perhaps more on the gritty and barbaric side.
Not only the place, but I wanted to interact with the NPCs and take on the new quests they had for me. There was also a lot of crap in my inventory to sell and plenty of gear upgrades to be done.
Most importantly, I wanted to save my spawn point at the village. I had enough of the cliffs for a lifetime. And I certainly didn’t want to be near any in real life.
Sharulrath slowed down his pace until I was by his side. He turned to me and said, "Remember, youngling, do not tell the Chief that you have met Uncle Mehu."
Intrigue? "Why is that?" I said. "Are they enemies?" There could be bad blood between them since the Big M, from what I could tell, abruptly cut off ties with the village except for his nephew. He kept on calling them tainted; that fossil also called me tainted. Anybody would understandably get pissed by that.
"Enemies? No...not friends either... The Chief might not take too kindly to you learning the Ancestral Flame Arts from Uncle Mehu. Knowledge useless for our survival is what he calls it.
“Not one word of the Ancestral Flames, for the Chief will set off in an ear-shattering litany of the absurdity of drawing upon flames in a world of ice. Best hold your tongue if you want to avoid spending several candle-lengths sitting on the floor of the Chief's Lodge, listening to his never-ending tirade."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," I said politely.
Building relationships with NPCs was a mechanic of some RPGs. It usually came with benefits like unlockable quests, secret rewards, or something as small but valuable as discounts. In MCO, good relations with NPCs appeared to have the same effect. But it was possible that having bad interactions could also lead to unique paths.
Sharulrath advised me, "Tell the people at the village that we met in the Golden Forest. I'll say I was returning from the ruins of the Scholar's Lodge, doing errands for my uncle, which was why I was around these parts. It's a plausible story. After which, I accompanied you because I have taken a liking to you."
"Should I also keep the Ancestral Flame Arts a secret from other villagers? Do they share the ideas of the Chief?"
"Others are ambivalent about my uncle and his goal of relearning our ancestor's knowledge. Some consider him insane. Some consider him harmless. Most do not care or believe that we can manipulate the Ancestral Flame while in this prison of ice."
"I might change that.” I stared up at Sharulrath. “How about you? I know you're helping your uncle. But what do you think of the Ancestral Flame Arts? And why do you want to learn it?"
"The Chief is correct that it is not very useful here. A fitting prison for our people, this lofty mountain of ice. But my heart believes someday we will break free of our chains. When vast Mardukryon herds once again stampede over the plains, we will conquer everything with roaring flames in our wake."
"I think there's a good reason to keep us imprisoned here," I mumbled dryly.
"I live for that day," he said, wistfully gazing at the golden canopy above us. "My hopes hang on your small horns, youngling. Succeed in your task, and we might be able to teach everyone the Ancestral Flame Arts."
“I will,” I evenly said, wondering what would happen when we do finally escape this mountain.
Eventually, the thick forest opened up, revealing Kurghal Village at the end of the road covered with Mirdabons. It was funny that I had reached level ten before stepping foot—stepping hoof?—at what was supposed to be the starting village.
Sharulrath stopped walking by the forked path. I followed suit. He spoke, "Lest I fail to recall, a proper reward I shall give you now before we enter the village."
"Reward for—?" Before I could finish speaking, I gained Essence and Gli.
They weren't enough to push me to the next level or progress my Cidule and Ocadule. But the seven hundred Artas included in the quest reward was an excellent addition to my gear upgrading funds. How were the isolated Mardukryons using the same currency system as other races? Maybe only the Dalkanus could answer that.
"And that is not all," Sharulrath said. "Take these as well."
[ Received: (5) Basic Purchase Token, (1) Carved Totem Fang ]
"Thank you," I said, although I didn’t think the rewards were commensurate with my efforts in completing the quest, especially killing the Craggy Crabore. But then again, that quest was tailored for DPS players who could complete it within a few tries after understanding the mechanics. It was my fault for stubbornly insisting on doing it as a tank.
"Use the tokens to lower the costs of any equipment you wish to purchase. Many merchants in the village are ready to equip you for any endeavor you wish at a price. Each token is worth a thousand Artas. Merchants will charge that to my account. May it help you start on the path you'll set your heart on.
"As for the Totem Fang, it is proof that a full-fledged Hunter-Warrior acknowledges you. For a youngling to join the Hunter-Warrior Lodge, they need such a recommendation. A member of the Lodge will give a youngling a task to prove his bravery and mettle in battle—the Totem Fang is the reward. However, you have already proved yourself to me, and thus I give you this if you wish to join us.”
"Hunter-Warrior? I'll think about it," I said. It sounded like the introductory fighter class in most RPGs.
"Come onwards to the village."
I looked left, examining the narrower footpath that curved back to the forest. The hoof prints I saw on my first day as a Mardukryon were no longer there. It must've been a different quest path closed off because I went with the Mehubanarath route.
"Why are there so many Mirdabons here?" I asked. The temptation to kick them returned. Would Sharulrath help me if fifty Mirdabons mobbed me? Surely, I could survive tanking Mirdabons even if there were dozens of them?
"They're a buffer for Buvalu."
"A buffer?"
"Elder Pabilsag, the late husband of Healer Gula and a genius in the art of crafting wards, devised an ingenious warding circle that diverted the energies of the mountain here. It was done in such a way that the Mirdabons were attracted to the village entrance. Whenever the dreaded Buvalu wanders nearby, it wouldn't be able to resist devouring its own kind, thus giving time for the Hunter-Warriors to prepare themselves for battle.
"Such is the hunger of Buvalu that it wouldn't be able to stop eating once a morsel of meat touched its mouth. Distracted with this feast laid in front of it, our Hunter-Warriors could inflict grievous damage on the most wretched offspring of the Mountain Guardian. Several times have we fended off that loathsome Mirdabon. Since then, it has become wiser to our tactics and decided not to come near...unless it was exceedingly hungry."
Buffer? More like a buffet. I stared ahead to the village, the mound of earth ringing it, the formidable walls of rocks and wood of the next layer, the guards on the towers and by the gate.
A towering Mardukryon, a player identifiable by his overly elaborate attire and the lack of level accompanying his name, jostled past the NPCs.
"Hello! Over here!" was what I think he said. Was he waving at me?
He was bare-chested, with massive strings of beads, each the size of his fist and emblazoned with a burning rune, wrapped around his upper body. Attached to his back was a gigantic scroll large enough to be a picnic blanket. Smaller scrolls hang from his flanks, secured by chains and locks. He carried no weapon or shields—someone building an Unarmed State character.
He had done Mehubanarath's quest. Was he a Contractor? A friend of Luds?
I continued walking to the village. He approached us while continuing to wave, crossing the bridge over the dried moat filled with spikes ringing the village. As we got closer, I could make out his name—SpartanDonkey.
He wasn't a Contractor; he was from the Expeditionary Legion. The leader of the Mardukryon mission, as Nic had told me.
Does he know me? What does he want?
"I'll lead you straight to the Chief," Sharulrath said as we traversed the Golden Forest, trotting along the main path leading to Kurghal Village. The pitter-pattering of our hooves on hard ground was a relaxing drumbeat. Mirdabons peeked at us from the sides before burying themselves back into the snow to hide. "I'm sure the Chief will be delighted to finally meet you. And it'll assuage the concerns of our people that you still have not returned from your prayers."
"You're right, the villagers must be thinking I'm the most prayerful youngling in history," I said, pulling myself away from thoughts of kicking Mirdabons to see what Sharulrath's reaction would be.
Mehubanarath had told me that younglings prayed to the ancestors by the cliffs as some form of ritual to adulthood. That was the in-game lore of the start of my character. Now that I thought more about this story, the villagers were quite on the careless side not following up on a youngling they hadn't heard from for a while. Before I could ask a question, Sharulrath was ready with his exposition.
"None are allowed to disturb a youngling's communion with the ancestors," he said, looking over his shoulder at me. "It may take a candle's notch, and it may take a day or several, it could be weeks. We may never know, for the ancestors could give a youngling a lengthy vision of their destiny, and we are not to stop it."
"When do you check up on the youngling?" I asked. After learning their story, I expected they'd be overprotective of the younglings, given that they—or rather we—only had one settlement left after the Mountain Guardian caused the Great Quake.
"The youngling will return to the village when the time is right."
"That's a nice way of saying that you don't bother. Can I call child services here? I’m technically still a child. What if something bad happened to a youngling during his prayers? What if he fell off the cliff?"
Sharulrath throatily laughed like a parched donkey. "That'd be a sight! I'd give one of my spears to see a Mardukryon with a hollow skull fall over the cliffs."
That can be an easy way for me to get a spear. I might try that next time, but for now, I was excited to enter Kurghal Village. I enjoyed my short time at Amberkeld Town, including its jail, even if it was more of a generic fantasy town—a medieval Eroba aesthetic with magical elements like that in the fantasy books of my childhood.
In contrast, I expected Kurghal Village to be outlandish. Crude, perhaps more on the gritty and barbaric side.
Not only the place, but I wanted to interact with the NPCs and take on the new quests they had for me. There was also a lot of crap in my inventory to sell and plenty of gear upgrades to be done.
Most importantly, I wanted to save my spawn point at the village. I had enough of the cliffs for a lifetime. And I certainly didn’t want to be near any in real life.
Sharulrath slowed down his pace until I was by his side. He turned to me and said, "Remember, youngling, do not tell the Chief that you have met Uncle Mehu."
Intrigue? "Why is that?" I said. "Are they enemies?" There could be bad blood between them since the Big M, from what I could tell, abruptly cut off ties with the village except for his nephew. He kept on calling them tainted; that fossil also called me tainted. Anybody would understandably get pissed by that.
"Enemies? No...not friends either... The Chief might not take too kindly to you learning the Ancestral Flame Arts from Uncle Mehu. Knowledge useless for our survival is what he calls it.
“Not one word of the Ancestral Flames, for the Chief will set off in an ear-shattering litany of the absurdity of drawing upon flames in a world of ice. Best hold your tongue if you want to avoid spending several candle-lengths sitting on the floor of the Chief's Lodge, listening to his never-ending tirade."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," I said politely.
Building relationships with NPCs was a mechanic of some RPGs. It usually came with benefits like unlockable quests, secret rewards, or something as small but valuable as discounts. In MCO, good relations with NPCs appeared to have the same effect. But it was possible that having bad interactions could also lead to unique paths.
Sharulrath advised me, "Tell the people at the village that we met in the Golden Forest. I'll say I was returning from the ruins of the Scholar's Lodge, doing errands for my uncle, which was why I was around these parts. It's a plausible story. After which, I accompanied you because I have taken a liking to you."
"Should I also keep the Ancestral Flame Arts a secret from other villagers? Do they share the ideas of the Chief?"
"Others are ambivalent about my uncle and his goal of relearning our ancestor's knowledge. Some consider him insane. Some consider him harmless. Most do not care or believe that we can manipulate the Ancestral Flame while in this prison of ice."
"I might change that.” I stared up at Sharulrath. “How about you? I know you're helping your uncle. But what do you think of the Ancestral Flame Arts? And why do you want to learn it?"
"The Chief is correct that it is not very useful here. A fitting prison for our people, this lofty mountain of ice. But my heart believes someday we will break free of our chains. When vast Mardukryon herds once again stampede over the plains, we will conquer everything with roaring flames in our wake."
"I think there's a good reason to keep us imprisoned here," I mumbled dryly.
"I live for that day," he said, wistfully gazing at the golden canopy above us. "My hopes hang on your small horns, youngling. Succeed in your task, and we might be able to teach everyone the Ancestral Flame Arts."
“I will,” I evenly said, wondering what would happen when we do finally escape this mountain.
Eventually, the thick forest opened up, revealing Kurghal Village at the end of the road covered with Mirdabons. It was funny that I had reached level ten before stepping foot—stepping hoof?—at what was supposed to be the starting village.
Sharulrath stopped walking by the forked path. I followed suit. He spoke, "Lest I fail to recall, a proper reward I shall give you now before we enter the village."
"Reward for—?" Before I could finish speaking, I gained Essence and Gli.
They weren't enough to push me to the next level or progress my Cidule and Ocadule. But the seven hundred Artas included in the quest reward was an excellent addition to my gear upgrading funds. How were the isolated Mardukryons using the same currency system as other races? Maybe only the Dalkanus could answer that.
"And that is not all," Sharulrath said. "Take these as well."
[ Received: (5) Basic Purchase Token, (1) Carved Totem Fang ]
"Thank you," I said, although I didn’t think the rewards were commensurate with my efforts in completing the quest, especially killing the Craggy Crabore. But then again, that quest was tailored for DPS players who could complete it within a few tries after understanding the mechanics. It was my fault for stubbornly insisting on doing it as a tank.
"Use the tokens to lower the costs of any equipment you wish to purchase. Many merchants in the village are ready to equip you for any endeavor you wish at a price. Each token is worth a thousand Artas. Merchants will charge that to my account. May it help you start on the path you'll set your heart on.
"As for the Totem Fang, it is proof that a full-fledged Hunter-Warrior acknowledges you. For a youngling to join the Hunter-Warrior Lodge, they need such a recommendation. A member of the Lodge will give a youngling a task to prove his bravery and mettle in battle—the Totem Fang is the reward. However, you have already proved yourself to me, and thus I give you this if you wish to join us.”
"Hunter-Warrior? I'll think about it," I said. It sounded like the introductory fighter class in most RPGs.
"Come onwards to the village."
I looked left, examining the narrower footpath that curved back to the forest. The hoof prints I saw on my first day as a Mardukryon were no longer there. It must've been a different quest path closed off because I went with the Mehubanarath route.
"Why are there so many Mirdabons here?" I asked. The temptation to kick them returned. Would Sharulrath help me if fifty Mirdabons mobbed me? Surely, I could survive tanking Mirdabons even if there were dozens of them?
"They're a buffer for Buvalu."
"A buffer?"
"Elder Pabilsag, the late husband of Healer Gula and a genius in the art of crafting wards, devised an ingenious warding circle that diverted the energies of the mountain here. It was done in such a way that the Mirdabons were attracted to the village entrance. Whenever the dreaded Buvalu wanders nearby, it wouldn't be able to resist devouring its own kind, thus giving time for the Hunter-Warriors to prepare themselves for battle.
"Such is the hunger of Buvalu that it wouldn't be able to stop eating once a morsel of meat touched its mouth. Distracted with this feast laid in front of it, our Hunter-Warriors could inflict grievous damage on the most wretched offspring of the Mountain Guardian. Several times have we fended off that loathsome Mirdabon. Since then, it has become wiser to our tactics and decided not to come near...unless it was exceedingly hungry."
Buffer? More like a buffet. I stared ahead to the village, the mound of earth ringing it, the formidable walls of rocks and wood of the next layer, the guards on the towers and by the gate.
A towering Mardukryon, a player identifiable by his overly elaborate attire and the lack of level accompanying his name, jostled past the NPCs.
"Hello! Over here!" was what I think he said. Was he waving at me?
He was bare-chested, with massive strings of beads, each the size of his fist and emblazoned with a burning rune, wrapped around his upper body. Attached to his back was a gigantic scroll large enough to be a picnic blanket. Smaller scrolls hang from his flanks, secured by chains and locks. He carried no weapon or shields—someone building an Unarmed State character.
He had done Mehubanarath's quest. Was he a Contractor? A friend of Luds?
I continued walking to the village. He approached us while continuing to wave, crossing the bridge over the dried moat filled with spikes ringing the village. As we got closer, I could make out his name—SpartanDonkey.
He wasn't a Contractor; he was from the Expeditionary Legion. The leader of the Mardukryon mission, as Nic had told me.
Does he know me? What does he want?
