Capítulo 10: CHAPTER 10 [Clan volunteer]
"Look, my dear barbarian," came the soft voice of the one she called Carol. "The Hounds of Death are a powerful clan. An influential clan. A clan with a long memory. And they always remember who their friends and their enemies are. We can't do anything to hurt them since they could crush us without breaking a sweat. But we could help them... Leaving would significantly weaken the clan alliance the Hounds are focusing on more and more. It would be a moral and literal blow to the alliance, and things like that aren't easily forgotten."
"Well, okay. And just like that, we'd look like rats—and we wouldn't even get anything out of it."
"We'd get something out of it," Carol quietly chuckled. "Our reputation would suffer, but our horizons would brighten. Sure, we would violate our agreement. Yes, we would pull a bit of a dirty trick. Okay, so we would have to grovel a bit... What's that face for?"
"Grovel? Why?!" roared Carolan.
"Do you want to get to Rivenholm? New lands, new quests, get the clans over there to bend over for us?" the woman chimed in.
"Of course," answered Carolan. "Why even ask? Everyone does."
"How many ships does our clan have?"
"Two. And we're building two more."
"Is that enough for a full convoy? Enough to get there, considering the competition will be trying to sink us every step of the way? Kraken and his tentacles? Jolly pirates flying the no less Jolly Roger trying to run a jihad on us landlubbers? Whatever else might happen?"
"Of course not," admitted Carolan. "Although nobody's ever gotten there, as far as I know."
"Exactly. So what's wrong with asking the Gray Witch to let us join their flotilla? As attendants. If we help them and show that we're loyal, she probably won't mind. And if we can prove ourselves to be a reliable, friendly, and useful clan for the Hounds of Death once we're in the flotilla, they'll help us when we get to Rivenholm. And you can't put a price on that. So, my dear, we will do all the groveling it takes. Happily. And it wouldn't hurt to do something else for them, something unusual…"
The woman started rocking back and forth on the bench, which made me rock in my rug. The beer inside me began complaining about the treatment it was getting.
"I heard." Carol continued insinuatingly, "that the Gray Witch was interested in someone…"
"Yes? What kind of interest?" Carolan laughed at his double entendre.
"Not what you're thinking," Carol answered coldly.
"Not personal."
"How do you know?" the woman asked with interest and stopped rocking, which made me feel better.
"I just do," Carol answered evasively. "How... Well, what does it matter to you, Mila?" It's secret information that isn't meant to leave the clan. They call him Wanderer, and he hasn't reached the last level yet. The Witch is trying to find out everything she can about him, and especially wants to know where he's located in the game."
"Unbelievable!" shouted Carolan. "You have ears in the Hounds?"
"Dear God!" the other two exclaimed at once, obviously shocked at their companion's stupidity.
"Do you know why she's so interested in Wanderer?" the woman asked.
"All I have are rumors." Carol answered. "They say Wanderer got the Great Dragon quest."
"Oh, come on, that's nothing," announced the bass. "Just one more of who knows how many who have the Great Dragon quest."
"Sure," agreed Carol. "But why would the Gray Witch be so interested in him? Just for the hell of it? That I doubt."
Okay, Carol," the woman clapped. "Let's check with our contacts and see what we can find about Wander-er. Maybe someone knows something. That could be a nice bonus for us—we'll just have to do it quietly."
"Well, obviously," Carol huffed. "If anyone learns that we found out, they'll make life miserable for us—if they don't just destroy us outright. It's no joke sticking your nose in the Gray Witch's business."
"You're telling me," said the woman. "Phew, what a day…"
She stood up quickly, the bench rocked back, and that knocked the rug with me rolled up in it out from under the bench.
What happened next could have been pulled directly from some old comedy. The rug unraveled, leaving me to thud out onto the floor, and I looked up to see the group of three staring down at me in mute surprise. There was a hefty half-ore in armor and wielding an enormous battle axe. At least, I imagined that's how half-orcs look—light-green skin, big teeth that don't stick out of their mouth like my friend vuiikh's, with a well-built, powerful body knotted up and down with muscles. Next to him was Carol, a small human with a forgettable face dressed in unassuming clothes with a set of metal knives and a small sword strapped to his back. I guessed he was a scout. I wasn't exactly sure what a scout was. Though, judging by what he was saying, it was apparently something like an intelligence agent...or spy. Finally, there was a tall, staggeringly beautiful elf woman. She had almond-shaped blue eyes, textbook-sharp ears, golden hair, and white clothes—probably a mage. Also, she was probably more a girl than a woman.
She crouched down next to my carcass and, in her melodious voice, asked me with some bewilderment "Who are you?"
I don't know what got into me. The time may have expired for my intoxication, or maybe it was the elf's beauty. It could have been the thought that I was royally screwed, or that real life doesn't happen like in books or movies. Whatever the reason, the gift of speech returned.
"Leyton," I answered.
"Well, that's very informative," the elf observed.
"How did you get here, Leyton?"
"I came here with Fat Billie for some beer. He got me drunk, rolled me up in the carpet, and stuck me under the bench," I answered truthfully.
"That's probably Wild Billie," the half-ore said, "the one who left when we got here. It's Wild Billie, though, not Fat Billie."
"Who cares which Billie he is?" the elf sadly exclaimed. "What are we going to do with this one now? He heard everything! You heard everything, right?" She turned to me.
"I heard everything." There was no point in denying the obvious. "Though I didn't understand it all."
"Well, at least he isn't lying," said Carol. "Still, this is a problem."
"Seriously, Carolan," the elf turned to him and said,
"We have a clan fortress with spell protection, comfortable rooms, and everything else you could want. But no, you had to drag us to this squalid pub. I told you! 'The beer is good.' You're kidding me!"
She crossed her arms over her chest and nervously paced the room.
"But it is!" answered the half-orc. "And we shouldn't use the scrolls so often. We need to save money!"
"Yeah, save money. Look at what we saved," the elf responded and squatted down in front of me. "Do you understand how much you've screwed everything up by being here and hearing all of that?"
"Of course. I could tell right away." I wasn't about to argue.
"What's the point of going over everything with him?" roared Carolan. "We'll add him to the clan's blacklist and smash him if we ever see him again. He won't even leave the city."
"Carolan, do you even know why you're still in the clan council?" the elf turned on him.
"Because I'm cool!" The half-ore proudly stuck out his chest.
"Because you're one of the founders. And that's the only reason."
"What did I say this time?"
"Carol?" The elf looked at the scout.
"Look, Carolan," the scout started just as gently as before. "If a serious clan gets all up in arms about a Level 6 noob, everyone will notice. Their analysts will all wonder what we're doing, and soon enough, they'll guess that the noob knows or saw something he shouldn't. And they'll be right. Then, whoever figures that out first will promise to protect him, help him develop, and give him things (which is both easy and cheap), and the noob will tell them everything—and willingly. We're screwed, and someone else has hit it big. That will get the Hounds of Death breathing down our necks if they don't just kill us outright. And to top it all off, once the information gets to our old friends, they'll make life interesting for us as well."
"But aren't they going to anyway?"
"Of course not. If our plan works, we'll have the Hounds of Death behind us," the elf explained to her dim-witted friend.
"So what are we going to do with you?" She looked at me thoughtfully.
"Stalemate," I muttered.
"What?" asked Carolan.
"Stalemate. You can't do anything much with me holding you back, but you could ruin everything for yourselves. I can't stand up to you, though I'm going to be a threat to your clan for the foreseeable future. Stalemate."
"Good job. You're smart," the elf announced.
"What's wrong with you?" Carolan snarled. "A threat! I'll eat you right now! A threat…"
"Shh!" The elf suddenly hushed him. "I made up my mind."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Carol looked at her sideways.
"It's the best option," she nodded.
Mila the Wise, leader of the Thunderbirds, invited you to join her clan.
If you accept, you will become a member and receive the following bonuses:
+5% experience received
-7% damage done by opponents
+4% ability to see objects' hidden attributes
+4% damage done by all weapon types
+5% protection from cold
+5% protection from fire
+15% healing received (25% when healed by another clan member)
+3% chance of receiving rare and hidden quests
You can fix two items each day using money taken from the clan account.
20% cheaper prices for vehicle rentals in areas that respect your clan
Additional bonus: Because you are joining the clan at the invitation of its leader, you get +10% items in dungeons (when playing with a group made up of clan members).
Your bonuses can be modified or increased by fostering respect within the clan.
I shook my head and said, "Wow!"
~ ~ ~
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