Hesketh Tolson
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RS 35: Level 10
🕑 Added 2021-05-23 17:23:48 +0000 UTC[Ding! The Fredinator LEVEL UP!]
[Ding! Joan of Snark LEVEL UP!]
[Ding! Alice69 LEVEL UP!]
[Ding! Hugo Balls LEVEL UP!]
[Ding! Epic Failure LEVEL UP!]
“Nice,” said Joan, with great satisfaction. “That’s everyone at level 10 or higher. Great job! Thank you Knights of Cake.” She kicked a shiny breastplate with her boot and it clanged against the rest with a hollow tinkle.
“Can I have my morning star back now, please?” asked Epic.
Joan handed it to her silently. Epic glanced at the bloody weapon and winced. “Thank you,” she said, surreptitiously wiping it on the grass. Stinkums watched her with some interest, and then reached out a paw to pat a stray bit of brain matter. Epic huffed and then gave up. Balancing the blood-soaked shaft between finger and thumb, she carried it to the stream’s edge, muttering as she went.
Joan laughed, and then carried the breastplate over to the pile the rest of them were sorting. The amount of armour and weaponry the knights had been carrying was truly impressive, and there were lots of items that might be useful.
“You know,” said Joan, eyeing the massive assortment of plunder, “this could be quite lucrative. I can see why they did what they did.”
“Slipping back into pirate mode, are we?” commented Fred. “Maybe you really do need to spend a few more centuries being a tree before you are fit to be human again.”
“Hush,” said Joan, pushing him away. The sorting continued amidst much exclamation and comment. Out of the corner of his eye Fred saw one of the defeated knights approaching, freshly dressed in his new life. His eyes were wide and startled, he was moving a bit like a wild doe. He was wearing what seemed to be long johns and a round colander hat. The ex knight popped his metal-topped head out from behind a bush and then scuttled to a nearby tree, peering anxiously at the pile of armour.
Fred flapped his hands at him..
“Beat it,” he said, not unkindly, “go on! Scat!” The knight ran away, the colander hat bumping on his head. Fred turned to Joan. “Maybe we could leave them a chest plate or a–”
“Nope,” said Joan, busy sorting. “That’s a no. Nope, nope, nope. No. Aha!” she pulled out a pair of extremely large pauldrons, and strapped them onto her shoulders. The metal plate jutted out on either side of her as she posed. “How do these look?”
“Breath-taking,” said Epic, rolling her eyes. Giggling, Joan tossed them back onto the heap. Then she dived for another piece, exclaiming in delight.
“Look at this! A golden ring of healing +30HP! Hmm so sparkly. Oh! A Belt of Holding, with extra purses… handy… hmm who wants that?”
“Me,” said Alice, and Joan threw it to her. Alice slid it onto her waist, settling it amongst the motley collection of belts she already had on.
“Ohhh, look at this sword,” said Joan, holding it up. “So shiny!”
“It’s like dating a small dragon,” commented Fred.
“Pity none of us are paladins,” she said. “Or reavers. Hmm. This might be worth keeping.”
“Gimme the war axe, rather,” said Epic. “I find a sword less intuitive.” Joan tossed her the axe and it landed sideways in the turf with a heavy thunk. Epic picked it up and stowed it with her freshly cleansed morningstar.
“Alright,” said Hugo. “This is all nice and everything. And I assume Joan has adequately sated her bloodlust-”
“For now,” said Joan.
“But didn’t you say THE PURGE is tomorrow? Shouldn’t we…I don’t know, be doing something?”
“I suppose you are right,” said Joan, throwing a fancy helmet back onto the pile with a clang. She brushed off her druid’s robes and straightened.
“So let’s sell what we can’t use,” said Fred. “And then shop for supplies and–”
A swell of orchestral music rippled across the meadow. The Incomplete Guide To Some Things popped into existence, making them all jump.
The disembodied head glowered down at them from within the pages of his book.
“Alright you nasty little cretins,” he said, “I see you are still … mmm… alive.” His green eyes glinted and he sounded slightly disappointed. “Made it to level 10, have we? Nice. I wonder if you will die in THE PURGE anyway. Here’s hoping. I don’t get paid enough for this.”
“You get paid?” asked Alice.
“No. I’m a veritable slave.”
“You seem to be in fine spirits,” said Fred. “How wonderful it is to see you too!”
“Well,” the Guide huffed, spinning slightly in his book. Little golden sparks drifted off the pages. “I can’t always be a little ray of sunshine. That shit takes work. Anyway. Here we are. Bonus time, I suppose.”
“Oh goody,” said Hugo.
They all gathered round the Guide expectantly. A spectral hand appeared from the pages to push a pair of glasses onto the Guide’s freckled nose. He peered down at the pages before him.
“Ah yes. Section 36, addendum A. Ug, this script really could do with an index. Hmm. Oh yes, here we are. You all have a choice to make!” He stuck out his chin dramatically. “I said,” he shouted, “you all have a choice to make!”
“We heard you!” said Hugo.
“I don’t think that cue was meant for us,” said Fred.
Somehow, even though they were standing on the grass in broad daylight the sun winked out. They stood, veiled in night, the gloom pierced only by the atmospheric blue glow that spilled out from the Guide’s pages, along with a sizable helping of dry ice. The Guide coughed as the stuff went up his nose.
“Gah . Ug. As I was saying! You have a choice!”
There was a dramatic drum roll from behind a nearby oak. Fred peaked behind the tree, and spotted Betty seated at an extensive drum kit. She was wearing headphones and a small headband with a mounted torchlight on it. He mouthed ‘Hi Betty!’ at her and waved. The goblin scowled at him.
“Choose wisely!” said the Guide. “Your fate, and the fate of mankind rests in your hands…”
“The fate of mankind?” asked Alice, sceptically.
“It might do,” said the Guide, affronted, “you don’t know. Look, can we hurry this along? I have a party to attend. As I was saying, ahem, choose wisely, because your fate, at the very least, is in your hands!”
“Okay,” said Hugo. The Guide sighed.
“The Fredinator, step forward!” Fred stepped forward smartly. “Choose.”
A spotlight blinked on, illuminating two items on two separate rocks. To the left lay a flask – brown, ordinary, with a loop for easy carrying. Attached was a china tea cup and saucer in a leather holster. To the right lay an old pair of dusty boots. The soles of the boots were surrounded by tiny golden motes that orbited them like little planets.
“Which would you rather have?” asked the Guide. “This lovely tea flask - mundane, simple, slightly insulated, or this pair of Ten League Boots that will allow you to traverse the distance in a blink?”
“The tea flask,” said Fred at once. Joan groaned. The Ten League Boots popped out of existence. Fred stepped back, clutching his flask and the teacup happily. “Oh. My. God,” he said.
“What?” the party chorused.
“It’s got tea in it,” Fred said, a beatific smile spreading across his face.
“Joan of Snark,” said the Guide, and Joan stepped forward. The spotlights went dark, then reignited. On the left rock was a floating ball of green flame that curled in on itself, twisting with restless, radiant energy. On the right was a small twisted root, glowing gently as it rested on the flat rock. “Choose wisely,” said the Guide. “Absorb the light and you will become Plant Whisperer. The very blades of grass beneath your feet, the trees of the forest, the flowers by the wayside - all will tell you their secrets, if you care to listen.”
“And the other?” asked Joan, her face intent.
“The Hawthorn Root. Plant it next to your camp by the light of the spring moon and immediately a protective barrier of vines and flowers will surround your company, keeping you safe from any threat! You and your party can slumber safety, lulled by the scent of the thousand wildflowers and sheltered from the rain. The following morning the barrier will disappear, leaving behind only a full English breakfast buffet. You can use this item only once.”
Joan’s face twisted in indecision.
“The Plant Whisperer,” she said.
“It is yours.”
Joan stepped forwards, and the green flame undulated up and out like a living thing. It disappeared into her stomach with a whoosh. For a moment Joan’s whole body pulsed green, then the light dimmed and her skin faded to its usual dusky brown. She stepped back, grinning happily.
“Hugo Balls. Choose wisely.” Hugo stepped forward, looking anxious.
Once more the limelight blinked off and on again, this time momentarily illuminating Betty, who was changing the items. The Guide glared at her and she scurried back behind her tree, looking embarrassed. She left on the rock a radiant sphere of light and a pair of goggles. The goggles were black, with dark glass and inlaid with silver runes. The sphere pulsed like a tiny star, throwing everyone's features into harsh relief as it bathed them in cold light.
“To your left,” said the Guide. “Goggles of the Night! Let your vision pierce the darkness! Never again will you fear to tread alone! For you all will appear as bright as noon on a summer’s day. Never again will enemies sneak upon you under cover of darkness! No more terror, no more shade, no more creeping with smoky torches through pitch-black dungeons!” He turned his head. “To the right you have Star Fire. Take into your heart the core of a distant, dying star. Its cold embrace will ease your soul, while the glittering prisms of its light will flit like fireflies across your fingers. Your enemies will be dazzled, blinded and scorched! At least, while you can maintain your concentration. What is your choice?”
“Star Fire,” said Hugo.
The Guide nodded and Hugo stepped up to the rock. The floating sphere dissolved into a shimmering haze that was absorbed into his skin. Flecks of light chased their way through his veins and then dimmed and settled. Once more the limelight blinked out.
“Cracking on,” said the Guide, stifling a yawn. “Alice69. You must choose wisely. Or not. I’m beginning to believe I don’t care. On the left - the originally named Boots of Stealth. With these beauties you will tread with the grace and care of a water-spider on a mill pond, pad with the deadly gait of a velvet-pawed panther in the forest, and move like a whisper across a slip of silk - all the while adding plus 10 to your sneaking ability and the envy of all who are quick enough to witness your passage. They will be very few. On your right, an ability in potion form.”
Alice stared at the small bottle filled with murky grey sludge. It looked like liquid mercury. “Become an Iron Stomach and you are able to gain nutrition from anything organic. Food, fresh or rotting, it is all the same to you. The bark of an ancient oak? Delicious. The grass underfoot - just more to sustain you. Moss on a rock, water from the sea – your stomach will thank you. This ability has the potential to evolve. What do you choose?”
Alice pursed her lips, her head on one side.
“Iron Stomach,” she said. “Sounds interesting.”
“Good choice,” said Joan, approvingly. Alice knocked back the contents of the potion bottle, and stood with a strange expression on her face.
“Is it gross?” asked Hugo.
“No,” said Alice, considering. “Tastes surprisingly good. A bit like liquorice.”
“Epic Failure,” said the Guide, blowing out his cheeks. “Finally. You have a choice. You can either change your name or you can grow your companion. Choose wisely.”
Everyone looked at Epic.
“I would like to grow Stinkums,” said Epic. “She’s really very small.” The rest of the party groaned.
“Come on, lass,” shouted Fred. Epic blushed.
“You all call me Epic, anyway,” she said, with a shrug. “That’s what matters. I can change it later.”
She held up the baby sabre tooth tiger in both hands. Stinkums hissed at the Guide, drawing back her lips to show her fine, protruding teeth.
“Ug,” he said, looking down his nose at the ghost tiger. “Fine.”
There was a popping noise, and Stinkums expanded, growing dramatically to the size of a large dog. Epic dropped her with a cry of surprise.
“Woah,” said Alice.
Cat and woman looked at each other in shock. Epic’s face split into a grin, and Stinkums started to purr so loudly the rest of the party could feel the vibrations in their boots.
“Alright then,” said the Guide. “Goodbye.”
He vanished in a puff of bad-tempered smoke.
The darkness dissipated and the party stood blinking in the midday sun. They all crowded around each other, petting Stinkums and admiring each other’s abilities and items.
“So fluffy,” said Epic, burying her face in Stinkum’s coat.
“I wonder what she can do?” said Joan. “Now she’s bigger?”
“So, what next?” asked Hugo. “Now we have got our revenge on the Knights of Cake and reached level 10, anything else is going to seem like an anti-climax?”
Fred opened his mouth to speak.
A massive bell tolled.
The dome of the sky flashed with streaks of neon lighting, more intense than any aurora, cracking and flooding the dome with intense colour. They all gaped up as giant letters filled the sky as far as they could see, stretching from horizon to horizon. An intense wave of sound rippled across the land, sweeping over them and leaving them all a little breathless.
“TWENTY-FOUR HOURS,” came a booming voice, “YOU HAVE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO VACATE THE LEVEL. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE GATE OR YOU WILL BE PURGED TO MAKE WAY FOR NEW PLAYERS. TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.”
The voice faded. The neon colours died away. The sky resumed its normal bell-like blue and cloud spotted mundanity.
A bird twittered overhead.
Everyone blinked, a little shell-shocked.
“Right,” said Hugo, “forget what I just said. Um. So, we better get on that, right?”
“So where do we go?” asked Epic. “Twenty-four hours isn’t long? What if it takes up that long to find the gate.”
“I haven’t seen anything that looks like a gate,” said Alice.
“What if it's like the portal into Fairy?” said Fred. “Maybe we have to look for it.
“Help!” said Joan. “We need HELP!”
The Incomplete Guide to Some Things reappeared with an irritable pop. He glowered down at them. He was wearing a little party hat and had steamers in his ginger hair.
“What is it?” he said. “I’m busy.”
“Can you tell us where the gate is?” asked Joan.
“Well, since this is the first level,” said the Guide, looking down his nose at her, “and I have cake waiting – here. It's on your map.” His pages flopped open and they all leaned forward to look at the large ‘X’ marked in red. It was a half days journey to the south, just beyond Skelly Gorge. “Don’t expect it to be so easy next time.”
“Cheers, mate,” said Hugo.
The Guide swivelled to look at him, lips drawing back in disdain. His nostrils flared.
“Cheers,” he said, “mate.” He vanished.
Hugo Balls Level 10
Class: Wizard ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥
XP: 1099
HP: 40/40 [+ 8 Green Wizard's Robes (+5 mana) 4 Bronze Triquetra Belt Buckle + 4 Delightful Boxers with Pink Hearts (+2 charisma) +6 crocodile boots (+2 Mana) +5 Holy Socks (Blessed by Tim God of Hyge + 3 mana) +5 Iron Dagger +8 Merlin’s Hawthorn Staff (+ 20 Mana)]
Mana: 30/30
Bonus: Luck (LVL 2); Identify; Starfire
+ 3 Herbalism
+5 Firemaking
+3 Sneaking
+2 Thievery
+6 Cooking
+5 Discipline
+2 Brewery
Alice69 Level 10
Class: Rogue ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥
XP: 1053
HP: 52/52 [+6 Fine Pirate Blouse +8 Black Leather Trousers (+4Charisma) +2 Ordinary Belt +1 Leather Belt + 2 Fancy Belt +1 Boring Bra + 5 Belt of Holding + 2 Decent Knickers +5 Iron Dagger + 15 Alice Against the Patriarchy Blade +5 Spider Slippers (+2 Sneak)]
Bonus: Dual Wield; Identify; Iron Stomach
+10 Sneaking (2 from Spider Slippers)
+ 8 Lockpicking
+11 Thieving
+2 Cooking
+5 Discipline
+7 Charisma (4 from Black Leather Trousers)
+3 Firemaking
The Fredinator Level 11
Class: Monk ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥
XP: 1258
HP: 68/68 [+ 4 Sexy Sandals + 3 Batman Boxers + 20 Novice Monk’s Robes +5 Austere Rope Belt + 1 teaspoon + 15 Staff of Glorious Bonkery +20 One-Handed Crossbow of Awesome]
Bonus: Dual Wield, Condensed Milk lv 2, Identify
+8 Charisma
+7 Elevation
+ 4 Sneaking
+10 Discipline
+5 Cooking
+2 Herbalism
+3 Firemaking
Epic Failure Level 11
Class: Barbarian ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥
XP: 1450
HP: 96/96 [20 Shimmering Chainmail Shirt of Protection + 4 Nice Bra + 2 Cotton Knickers + 15 Very Nice Boots + 4 Self Cleansing Cotton Undershirt +5 Battle Skirt + 2 Boring Socks + 20 Victoria Sponge War Axe +24 Murderous Morning Star]
Bonus: Identify, Dual Wield, Berserker Rage, Summon Stinkums
+4 Herbalism
+6 Cooking
+10 Thieving
+3 Sneaking
+6 Firemaking
Joan of Snark Level 12
Class: Druid ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥
XP: 1459
HP: 464/464 [+ 3 Scandalous Knickers + 2 Practical Bra + 1 teaspoon + 2 Green Woolly Socks + 10 Sturdy Boots + 5 Iron Dagger + 20 Ash Staff +15 Moss Green Robes] x8
Bonus: x8 HP Bonus, Identify (LVL 2), Plant Whisperer
+4 Firemaking
+7 Cooking
+12 Herbalism
+ 6 Sneaking
+3 Lockpicking
+1 Charisma
+10 Potion Making
