The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel Page 7

  The Alchemist class was no different, and Locke was hesitant to make a decision without knowing what path it might force him down. There was very little information known about the skills or trees, and the prospect of making the wrong choice made Locke anxious. Putting off a choice between the three options--something he was allowed to do since he had permanently disabled in-game notifications after he first started crafting and decided that listening to ‘You have successfully crafted a cheap iron sword’ hundreds of times would be beyond obnoxious--he went straight to the skill tree to look at what talents were available for the Alchemist.

  When he opened the skill tree, however, he didn’t find a single skill listed. There were hundreds of recipes, most of them were greyed out, indicating that he couldn’t learn them yet for whatever reason, but two were backlit to show that he already knew them. There were five yellow, pulsing options above one of the two, the Deadly Poison recipe, that let him know he had choices to make. The other option remained unchanged, and Locke suspected that he hadn’t reached a high enough level on the healing potion to actually unlock any of its branches.

  He expanded the menu and inspected the new options. Each was very similar to Deadly Poison, except that instead of adding one point of damage to a weapon, each new skill added a debuff that would apply to whomever the weapon struck. The debuff subtracted one point from one of his enemy’s stats on strike or caused whoever consumed it to lose 10 status points, both effects being multiplied by the skill level. The effect would, like the poison, last five minutes. They all had lame names too, things like Weakening Poison (for Power), Slowing Poison (for Speed), Fragility Poison (for Vitality), Soulbane Poison (for Spirit) and Butterfly Poison (for Concentration). Locke did a double take on the name ‘Butterfly Poison’ and chuckled. That’s Ash, isn’t it? he thought, remembering that she was the one who had pushed for the class’s introduction in the first place.

  About then, a timely message popped up:

  You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to open your skill tree and see those names. I still can’t believe that tool, Gary, didn’t notice me change the name on the one for concentration. I was going to change all the names, but I figured he might get angry if I changed Soulbane to Gary’s Mom, or the Weakening Poison to Leg Day. Anyway, I should probably also mention something encouraging to get you motivated. Like, if you don’t make my favorite Alchemist class famous before I get fired, my last act will be to ban your account and then find out where you live and beat you with a giant rainbow trout so hard your grandkids will smell like dolphin food. Yeah, that sounds very encouraging. You feel inspired, right? Have fun!

  P.S. Did you know that no one in the office knew the word Zymurgist? You’d think that at least one of them would have been able to look it up online.

  Locke laughed at the message. He could even hear the ogre-sized plate armor’s cute voice as he read it. Zymurgist? A scientist who studies brewing? Without a panda nearby, most people probably just won’t understand what a brewmaster really is. He shrugged. Realizing he wasn’t exactly excited about any of the debuffs, he moved right on to the big decision he had been dreading: the specializations.

  You have reached Level 20! You may now take on a specialization for your Job Class. There are three different specializations the Alchemist can choose from:

  Apothecary: Apothecaries draw customers of all sorts and sizes, constantly harassing them to make a potion for everything from a blister on their foot to unmentionables on the backside. That’s why the Apothecary spends most of his time learning how to make the one thing he really wants to give his customers: Poison. An Apothecary has bonus options for each of their damage-inflicting poisons.

  Pharmacist: People often complain that they are assaulted outside of or near a good Pharmacist’s shop. It’s gotten to the point that, in some towns, they’re labeled as locations of especially bad luck. All that should be ignored, however, because, whatever the reason people find themselves injured, the Pharmacist, no matter how high-priced his goods, will always have the appropriate remedy for their troubles. A Pharmacist has bonus options for each of their health-restoring potions

  Zymurgist: If there was one potion that, when drunk to proper proportions, could dispel all sincerity and manners, it would be beer. But let not the drunkards in the tavern rave about its benefits when the Zymurgist hasn’t even begun to recount them all. The Zymurgist gets bonus properties to all ‘Buff’ potions and ‘Debuff’ poisons.

  Locke studied all the available options. So, I can be a brewmaster, eh? He got a little misty eyed at the thought. Like most of the men in his college dorm, he had spent many nights dreaming of making a fortune as a brewer. Drink beer all day, tend bar all night--it was a dream that far surpassed his limits. What also caught his eye was that none of these specializations limited his ability to make any of the potions or poisons. Each of them just said that, by selecting a specialization, he’d get bonus benefits for his poisons or potions.

  Hmmm. . . Locke looked at the three long and hard. He would have loved to spend all day picking between them, but he knew that time was precious. Whatever. I already have a poison. Might as well stick with it: I select Apothecary! he told Tiqpa.

  You are now an Apothecary. You have been granted additional options for all damage-inflicting poisons.

  And now I can handle all the rude customers! The Apothecary knows my pain so well, and I have just the perfect customer to kill. He wanted to rub his hands together maniacally and give a slow ‘muwahaha’ laugh to complete the villain stereotype from a 1980s cartoon, but he decided it might not be for the best with a group of customers within earshot.

  He went back to the skill tree, or potions tree as it might as well be named, and looked at Deadly Poison. The same five yellow, pulsing poisons were still above it, but three new options had appeared underneath it:

  Sticky Solution: Adds a +10% per poison skill level increase to the duration of the poison’s effect for augmenting weapons.

  The Persistent Client: Adds a lingering effect on the ingester of Deadly Poison or victim of a weapon with Deadly Poison applied. Over 10 seconds, the ingester or victim will receive an additional 50% of the Deadly Poison’s base damage. This effect may stack infinitely.

  Growing Ambition: Increases the base damage of weapons to which Deadly Poison is applied by .25% per skill level of poison.

  Locke’s eyes shined with dollar signs as he saw all three of the effects. He was already confident that he could make a decent living off the Alchemist class, but now that he saw the bonus effects he could add to a potion, a decent living would be an understatement. If he was able to get his Deadly Poison to a skill level of 100, that would be 25% bonus damage to the weapon! Or, with Sticky Solution at 100, it could be applied once and practically forgotten because of its ridiculous duration. No, wait, that would kill my customer base. If they could apply just one of the potions and forget about it, I’d have never have repeat customers. That’d ruin my income! Locke kicked himself for thinking of selecting that one. Well, at Level 23, I have twenty-two free skill points to allocate. May as well see how this works. Locke took a deep breath and selected the ‘Growing Ambition’ poison. He was scared for a minute, worried the other options would disappear, but as his selected effect went from pulsing yellow to white, the other two remained, each one pulsing yellow on their own. Alright, time to grab the DoT, or damage over time, so I can get that damage even higher and hopefully the paycheck that goes with it! He grinned.

  As Locke made the new potions, impressed with their bonus attributes and thoroughly satisfied with his Apothecary pick, he felt a tinge of regret that he didn’t put a point in the extended longevity for the potions. It would mean that for the rest of the game people would be wanting a new set of potions every five minutes. On the other hand, if he was with a leveling group, just for his Journeyman potions alone, he’d reduce the required potions he had to shell out per member to stay in the party from twelve to eight. That
’s thirty-three percent fewer poisons that will have to be spent keeping my membership in these power-leveling groups, Locke thought, then quickly opened the menu and grabbed the poison duration bonus. Hopefully, people will be way more interested in buying potions that don’t fade away in five minutes.

  “Hey guys,” --Locke stopped the group as Sparky and Sampson were busy lifting corpses-- “I have new poisons for you,” he offered.

  “The old ones haven’t worn off, though,” Sampson grunted as he picked up four Tiger-Ants and stashed them away.

  “These are better . . . A marked improvement if I may say so myself,” Locke bragged as he tossed one to Tubal. “Check them out! I think you’ll like the new product a lot.”

  Tubal held the poison, letting his teeth show from behind a smile for only a moment before a straight face returned. “Are you going to be using these to pay for the leveling now?”

  “Well, can I shave off those five poisons per hour and maybe stick with just five extra at the end?” Locke tried to haggle, hoping he might be able to give away fewer of his wares when they parted. He didn’t mind the five poisons per hour of power-leveling, but if he could do better, why not try?

  Tubal grinned. “Deal. Everyone, trade out your bottles for the new poisons. You’re going to like these a lot.”

  “I hope so,” Locke said, using his most polite voice. “A customer’s satisfaction brings me nothing but joy.” And now you can level me faster, he thought to himself with a laugh. The only depressing part of the whole power-leveling experience was that he was constantly having to recycle the bottles he used. Since he had started with only a measly two hundred empty bottles and he had no way to purchase more, he couldn’t afford to let one go to waste. If he could find a way to sell his product and procure containers in bulk from all the way out here in the wilderness, well, that would be a much better deal. Oh well, once I get to civilization and this product hits the market, I’ll be rolling in gold and orders, he thought as he patted a bottle of his trusty poison. Enough to afford something to stab Anthony with.

  As the day drew closer to an end, it took all of Locke’s willpower to push through and keep picking flower after flower. In truth, he felt like he had finished ten years of job training for a florist shop. The group was growing restless, and even as he drew closer to the Level 40 mark, he still hadn’t received the next level of specialization decisions. As a Blacksmith, he had been granted more options at Level 30, and he had been expecting the same progress with his new class. What the heck? You’re not going to tell me that the next choice I get will be at Level 60, are you? It better happen at Level 40, or I’m going to be really upset with Ash. Locke couldn't help but feel very disappointed. The first specialization had given him such immense bonuses that his potions had more than doubled in value, and he had been looking forward to increasing his profit margins once again.

  “Is this going to be the whole day? Killing stupid Tiger-Ants and Knight-Clubbers?” Sampson complained as he finished throwing another pair of Knight-Clubbers in his inventory.

  “There is no glory in killing the weak. There is no reward in murdering the defenseless,” Sparky exclaimed boisterously.

  “No reward? Why do you always have to be so dramatic with stuff,” Katherine asked, vocalizing her exasperation. “Just say it. You don’t like the fur-balls and slither-withers because there isn’t any loot. I think we can all agree that that’s a problem.”

  “Definitely. We’ve been out here hacking and slashing like our lives depended on it, and the only one with something to show for it is the flower picker on the sidelines. At least his poisons are getting better. No offense, Shy.” Sampson’s Minotaur face shriveled up in disgust.

  I’m not offended at all, but the lack of loot is apparently more offensive to you than any words I could say. Locke wanted to laugh out loud as he saw the cringing, bullheaded axe-wielder look pained like he missed a morning bathroom run and chugged too much coffee. Wait, is that actually what he needs to do? How does the game notify someone that they’ve gone past the threshold and have to make a break before something breaks?

  “You guys want to take a quick break? I can check the forums for good loot zones around here,” Locke suggested, looking at the Minotaur with a little bit of worry. He’s not planning to hold it the entire gaming session, is he? Do people do that?

  “I’m going to grab a sandwich real quick while we pause. I haven’t eaten in ages,” Bianca said. “My mom’s starting to make skeleton jokes at me.”

  “Your mom?” Locke looked over at her, the question obvious as it hung on his words.

  “Yeah, can’t beat free when it comes to rent, and we both work at the same place,” Bianca explained, a tinge of shame carried with each word.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. If I could stay at my parent’s pro bono, there is no way in hades you’d catch me anywhere but there. Cheap is cheap!” Locke tried to smooth out what he felt like was an accidentally-stabbing remark. Seriously, what I would give for a free room to stay in.

  “I wasn’t embarrassed,” Bianca responded and gave him ‘the eye.’

  Crap, now I’ve done it. Locke grimaced as he saw her expression. “Well, what do you two do for a living?”

  “We work at a doggy daycare. Well, I say ‘work at,’ but my mom owns it, so it’s more like she manages it, and I do all the work. You know how parents are, though, right?”

  Locke couldn’t help but frown. Did she not get the part where I don’t have a set of parents to crash at for free? Or is she purposefully taking shots at an open wound? She must still be mad at me for the embarrassed assumption. “I wish, but, hey, let me be right back. I need to go check on that map.” He excused himself as quickly as he could and logged out before anything else could come from the conversation. There was no reason to drag out it out if she was still upset with him and gunning for nothing but potshots.

  Hopping on the forum and checking what was said about the area around him, he found one particular article about a swamp that started less than a ten-minute walk south of where they currently were. The only notes it had were: ‘Heard there was great loot if you can find the boss. Our group was wiped by those filthy little P-Ps though. They’re everywhere, and they are deadly. Don’t mistake the books.’ What the heck are P-Ps? Locke stared at it. It does say that it will have some good items, though, so I suppose this will do.

  He quickly noted the location, took a break for necessities and a fast snack and then logged back in. “Are you a fan of swamps?” he asked as soon as he had entered the game. With everyone else still gone, Reginald was the only one back to hear him.

  “Like, the crocodile, leech and hillbilly infested places littered across Florida?” Reginald looked at Locke with a suspicious glare.

  “Uhhh . . .” Is someone from Florida? “Maybe? I’ve never been.” Locke did his best to dodge the accusation. “Are there a lot of hillbillies in Florida?”

  “Yep, I’m one of them. I say we do the swamp. I bet it’ll freak out little miss Sampson,” Reginald said with a laugh. “She hates things that are icky and gross.”

  “She?” Locke’s face spasmed in confusion. “Don’t you mean ‘he’?” Does he hate him? Is he making fun of him? That was too many times in a row for it to be a mistake.

  “Oh, no, Sampson and Sparky are both girls. They play as dudes because they hate being hit on. I have my suspicions that Katherine and Bianca are both guys, but I’ve yet to find confirmation.”

  Is he messing with me? I mean, “How do you know for certain on Sampson and Sparky? Does Sparky have a real name other than a bad reference to a breath attack he’s never used?”

  “You mean ‘she’s’ never used?” Reginald laughed. “And I know for certain because I’ve been playing games with them forever. Trust me: They’re both girls, and they’re going to kill me if you say anything about it, so shhhh.” He put a finger up to his goatish mouth.

  This guy is totally kidding me, right?

  �
�Hey, don’t give me that look!” Reginald called Locke out on his surprised facade. “Name a single MMO where there aren’t a ton of guys playing as girls, being overly flirtatious and trying to get extra items from people. Or girls playing as guys to avoid the throng of creeps that try to hook up with them.”

  “Well . . .” Locke thought about it for a few minutes. “I guess you’re right.” He gave up. Reginald’s points were all legit, and Katherine and Bianca’s attitude in any game other than Tiqpa would have cast suspicion on them as being that type of men who take advantage of the different gender. “But why are you telling me now?” Locke couldn’t figure that one out.

  “Cause I like to mess with the new people,” he cackled a bit. “It’s something us swamp people enjoy.”