Chapter 17: Chapter 13: Exploits

Chapter 13: Exploits

 

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Skill: Analyze (Level 1) [Utility: Can focus on an item, creature, or person and detect basic information. The breadth and depth of knowledge attainable through this skill is determined by its level, the disparity in power between caster and target, and relevant preexisting adjacent information already known about the object of “Analyze.”]

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Logan sighed in relief as he shifted his weight in the new boots, wiggling his toes and making circles with his ankles. Their warm, snug interior fit perfectly around his tattered feet. The cobbler had spent extra time stretching and widening the boots to mold around him, giving the project his utmost attention and care after Logan’s generous tip.

 

Something about buying new, functional apparel that would increase his quality of life made him feel deeply content. It had been a long time since he’d done anything for himself. He’d long since disregarded the notion of putting himself first and putting any effort into self-care, but his new life and newfound confidence lit a spark deep within his being. He was starting to actually care.

 

He allowed himself a small smile as he watched Ryan, who eagerly ran from shelf to shelf, wall to wall in the smithy, fawning over some dagger, hammer, or bow before darting off to a shiny new attraction.

 

Logan’s age and still-recovering sense of enthusiasm were the only reasons that he wasn’t just as excited about the plethora of weapons available in the store, a combination of shopfront, forge, and blacksmith.

 

After reconvening at the wagon, the group had made their way to a number of armorers, tanners, wholesalers, general stores, and finally, the blacksmith. Logan and Ryan had accumulated so much raw materials during the last few weeks that no single establishment would purchase it all, so they had split their goods among many, finding the best prices and fostering relationships with many shopkeepers.

 

They visited the armorer before coming to the blacksmith. By coming to these two shops last, they’d ensured that they would have enough coin to purchase all that they would need for the upcoming battle against the forest llort.

 

At the armorer, Logan had purchased his beloved new boots, a more practical scabbard for his back-mounted sword, and a cross-body leather strap with notches to hold several small throwing daggers. He’d wanted a medium-range option to fill in the gaps between Ryan’s archery and his swordsmanship, and a way to cover his escape with attacks while he disengaged. Throwing daggers felt like a good choice for a utility weapon.

 

Ryan and Huck had both also purchased some items. They bought new, larger quivers to hold the burning blood and paralytic arrows separately, and an archer’s forearm bracer and concealed belt knife holster for Ryan.

 

Most importantly, Huck, Logan, and Ryan had all placed custom orders for full-body outfits of light-medium armor crafted from a combination of the rabid rabbit pelt, Brightspine boar hide, and steamfish scales. They’d even given Lusal, the armorer, some Sworp feathers to incorporate as he pleased. They had no idea how the final product would turn out, but after asking them some questions about their personalities and fighting styles, Lusal informed them that their armor would be tailored to each of them specifically and would be complete in three days.

 

Logan felt physically, and what he could only describe as spiritually lighter after “clearing” his inventory. Even after ordering three custom armor sets, a purchase that would drain many southlander’s life savings, his pockets were still brimming with silvers and even a respectable amount of gold. Having no concept of the value of the items they carried, they’d almost bankrupted several businesses by trying to sell them the extremely rare materials from the level 2 and 3 monsters of the forest and foothills.

 

Apparently almost no one ever killed them, even in Tarik and its adjacent villages, save for the mysterious “hunter” that occasionally descended upon the town dragging the corpse of some or another mythical beast behind them, which made the hides, fangs, meats, and other materials prohibitively expensive. This “hunter” was the same man, Logan gathered, that had provided the wolf meat for the gyros they’d eaten earlier. Logan was interested in their identity, but there was almost no information about the hunter; they wore a cloak and hardly spoke at all when conducting trades.

 

Logan realized too late that the Hunter’s mysterious identity was not only good for building mystique, but also good practice for keeping one safe. He was kicking himself for not being more discreet about their sales. They had varied whom they sold to, trying to make it seem as if they were never really making too lucrative of deals, but he had felt eyes following them as they moved through the city. Someone had been watching them, and if they were diligent, they would realize just how much money the small group was sitting on. Remembering what Huck had told him about the unscrupulous characters that Tarik attracted, he told Huck about his concerns and decided to keep his guard up until they were safely back in Woolam.

 

Jugo, the blacksmith to whom Master Gjorn had directed them to seek out in Tarik, sat on a high stool behind the shop’s counter. Watching Ryan, he laughed merrily, a deep, booming, sound that seemed to match his thick, bulbous frame purrfectly. The top of his head was bald, a thick ring of black hair encircling the shiny crown. The skin of his cheeks was marked by a distinct griminess that came from decades of manual labor in the smithy, and was leathery and pitted.

 

“Dad, look at this dagger! It’s so sharp, and it’s perfectly balanced! Double sided, and the fuller looks so cool!” he said, looking up at Huck with glinting, excited eyes.

Huck glanced at Logan, shrugging as if to ask how they were doing on money. Logan nodded several times, making a face of easy approval. It made them both happy to enable Ryan’s fascination.

 

Ryan beamed, sprinted to the counter where he deposited the dagger, then immediately resumed his frantic investigation of the store’s wares. They had decided that Huck, though he was an amazing archer, should have a melee weapon just in case. With his height, bulk, and years sent swinging a pickaxe, he’d make a powerful brawler. He began consulting Jugo on the matter while Logan peeled off on his own to look around for upgrades of his own.

 

“Mikey, you said this was based off of a game system, right?”

 

“Yeah, loosely. Why? Do you need to consult my superior gamer wisdom in your weapon selection? Without thinking too hard about it, your arms are pretty tiny so anything heavier than that sword will make you pretty useless,” Mikey said, an image of the boy pinching his chin and looking contemplative appearing in his mind’s eye.

 

“Yeah, that’s why I lifted the hundred-pound bag of pelts onto the counter with one hand at the armorer, because I’m so weak, makes perfect sense Mikey. Anyways, I can switch between clothes and weapons pretty quickly… could that be useful in combat?”

 

“Hmm, maybe. You have a bow, the sword, you’re going to buy daggers. The sword and daggers are on your person normally, and the bow is in the inventory. Maybe you could get a spear or something?”

 

Sneaking a glance at Jugo and Huck who were still lost in conversation, he picked up a spear from a barrel and put it in his inventory.

 

Stealing would be way too easy with this ability… and it’s not like they have cameras to find out who took something after the fact.

 

He didn’t want to create a bad reputation though and would only use the spear for some experiments before returning or buying it. He filed the realization away; it may prove useful eventually.

 

He had his trusty short sword, the weapon that had saved his life against his first rabid rabbit still stored away safely in his inventory. With the addition of the larger sword from Master Gjorn, his bow, and now the spear, he had a veritable “weapon wheel” to swap between.

 

He opened his inventory, putting the four weapons into the weapon hot-bar next to the 3D rendition of himself. There seemed to be unlimited hot-bar slots, the line of grey boxes next to the weapon icon extending out to the right of the screen as he added more items to it. He closed the inventory. With a thought, he could detect the presence of the weapons he’d placed in his hot bar.

 

He held out his hand and thought about the idea of his shortsword, an intimation of the weapon hovering in his mind, almost tangible to his senses. He could feel the sword waiting to be summoned, and with a thought powered by intention, it appeared in his hand. Immediately, he dismissed it back to his inventory and summoned his longsword, then tried to swap back to shortsword. He couldn’t. It felt imperceptibly out of reach, but he could tell it was a temporary effect.

 

“Cooldown timers, huh? I guess this would be too overpowered without some sort of nerf,” Logan said, his enthusiasm slightly doused.

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“You’re telling me that you could figure out that encumbrance stomp thing but can’t find an exploit around this? As your gamer sensei, I’m disappointed in you Logan.”

 

“Again, the parasite blames others for the inadequacy of the powers he created,” Susie said with an airy sigh.

 

“True, there might be a work around,” Logan said, ignoring Mikey’s “gamer sensei” comment and Susie’s interjection.

 

Even if he couldn’t swap back immediately, the ability to change weapons quickly in combat would be a huge boon. He tried swapping to the spear. It faded into existence even as the longsword faded out and returned to his inventory, creating a seamless transition between the two weapons.

 

This could definitely throw off an opponent, he thought, shifting his lead hand up to comfortable hold the spear.

 

The visual effect of swapping between the weapons was disorienting, wood and metal disappearing and reappearing before his eyes like an illusion. He could use this to land unexpected hits with little to no telegraphing.

 

After a few seconds, Logan had the sense that he could swap to the shortsword again.

 

Deciding to try out an impromptu combination, he held the spear out before him in a ready stance towards an imaginary enemy.

 

He dashed forwards, thrusting the spear at head height. Ducking into a low spinning crouch, he swapped to the long sword and swept out the legs of his would-be opponent, the spear vanishing into his inventory. Finally, he leapt from the crouch, the shortsword appearing in his hands as the longsword disappeared. He slammed the shortsword in a doublehanded grip towards the floor, into the chest area of his fallen false adversary, before stopping the blade’s decent some inches above the stone.

 

Oh yes, this will do nicely, he thought, an uncontainable grin erupting onto his face, replacing its previous concentration.

 

He stood, shortsword at the ready, and slashed horizontally in front of him. As the sword passed through the air, he swapped to the longsword a moment before it would’ve impacted the target. The pommels of the two swords exchanged seamlessly in his hand, and the reach of the blade increased by a foot.

If he used this technique properly, the combinations he could achieve with melee attacks would be limited only by his arsenal and his creativity.

 

“See? Pretty useful after all!” Mikey said.

 

Susie snorted, but Logan was beyond pleased with what they’d discovered. He dismissed the sword, turning his attention back to his surroundings.

 

Huck and Jugo were staring at him. Huck began to clap slowly, impressed. Jugo had no idea what to make of the spectacle.

 

“He’s got a few illusion spells, makes him fun at parties,” Huck said, elbowing the dumbfounded blacksmith.

 

Ryan stood a few feet away, looking up at Logan with unabashed admiration. Logan winked at him, then walked up and tussled his hair.

 

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, retrieving the coonskin cap from his inventory.

 

“Where I’m from, skilled marksmen and hunters like you wear these. I think you deserve one too,” Logan said as he pulled the cap over Ryan’s head, adjusting the tail to sit behind his left shoulder.

 

Ryan reached up and felt the fur between his fingers, then grabbed the tail and let it slide through his hand.

 

“It’s so soft, it’s warm and fits well too. I love it,” Ryan said, taking the hat off and holding it reverently in his hands.

 

He turned it over, pouring over the cap, flipping it inside out then back again. He put it back on his head and ran over to a shield rack mounted on the wall next to them, inspecting his reflection in the shining metal of a round buckler.

 

The brightness of his smile outshone the many lanterns lighting the shop as he looked from his picture in the shield to Logan, then to Huck who’d made his way over. As Ryan continued admiring the hat’s reflection, Huck put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and leaned in, speaking quietly.

 

“You make him happy, lad. After his mother passed, I thought he’d lost that spark,” Logan turned towards Huck, who was looking him in the eye.

 

“Thank you, Logan. Ryan’s thought so for a while, but I consider you family now, son. I won’t forget what you’ve done for him.”

 

Huck, at Jugo’s suggestion, purchased a large war hammer and a medium-length, easily handleable sword. For Ryan they bought a long fighting knife, and two backup boot knives; one none, two is too few was the reason Logan had given. He wanted to eliminate as many holes in their plan as possible, and they had the money to spend.

 

As they left the blacksmith and began the walk to Bretta’s Firestone Inn, Logan browsed the “armory” tab in his inventory. He had purchased a lot of weapons. A halberd, a war hammer, an ax, a ball and chain, a short metal club, a simple pointed spear, several shields, and, to Mikey’s utter delight, a narrow, single-bladed curving sword that somewhat resembled a katana. The handguard and hilt were all wrong, more medieval European than Japanese, and it was too short, but it was close enough for now.

 

Cool, sweet night air filled their lungs as they walked to the music of drunken shouts and laughter from the many bars and inns they passed on their way to the Firestone.

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