I realized I probably should have just let the trader keep the arrows; he could have used them as a weapon if something bad happened. I mean, yeah, they're pretty useless without a bow, but it would have been better than nothing.
My shoulders slumped as I rode into the village atop my wimpy steed. If something happened to that trader, it would be my fault. Should I go after him? No, that would be weird — especially since I couldn't use the excuse of a trade. He had nothing to offer anymore, now that I'd bought everything off of him...
Whatever, it's not like something terrible was bound to happen to him. Why would anyone attack an innocent, puppy-dog-eyed trader?
Still, my stupid anxieties wouldn't shut up as I pulled my horse to a stop at the town center. I tried to reassure myself that the path the trader took was a popular route; many people traveled on it every day, heroes included. If he needed help, someone would be there to assist him. Not that some rando wannabe hero could do a better job of protecting him than I could...
I had to verbally shut up my thoughts with a forceful, "Shh!" as I stepped up to the bulletin board in front of the Info Center building, groaning irritably as the NPC standing next to it greeted me.
"Greetings, traveler! Welcome to the town center! Here, we help ambitious travelers with quests, events, and ranks! So, how can I help you, brave adventurer?"
I half-listened to the NPC's high-pitched voice, having learned that trying to interrupt them was pointless — it only made them restart their lines from the beginning. "I need a quest," I said bluntly when it'd finally finished.
"A quest, you say? Well, brave adventurer, you've come to the right place! I have new quests every day" — that's a lie; you have to complete a quest first before new ones come in — "and none of them are quite the same!" — another lie. they're all pretty much the same: find antagonist, defeat antagonist, collect reward — "But be careful, some quests aren't for the faint of heart!" That part's true.
The NPC then held up the large scroll that listed the quests, and I looked them over, mainly focusing on the difficulty ratings in the stats. I needed something challenging to help take my mind off the nonsense that stupid dragon force-fed me.
I chose the quest that sounded the most difficult — something about finding the whereabouts of a long-lost "Lyfe stone" — and the NPC jumped into the warnings.
"This quest is a Difficulty Level Five! That's the highest level of difficulty there is! Are you sure you're up to the challenge?"
"Yes," I responded, deadpan.
"You've got a heart of steel, o' great adventurer! Here's a token of gratitude for your courage!"
My XP suddenly went up by fifty, and I couldn't help but smirk — the higher the difficulty, the bigger the rewards, even for just accepting the quest. I learned from experience that you only gain as much XP as the difficulty level — the Level One's give you ten XP, Level Two's give you twenty, and so on. And the more XP you earn, the higher your ranking gets, and with a higher ranking comes proof that you're better than everyone ranked below you.
The NPC handed me the quest scroll, which was filled with all the information I'd need before starting the quest. Then, it squeaked, "Best of luck! I look forward to sending you off on your next exciting adventure!"
The NPC stood there waving stupidly as I walked away, quest scroll in hand. "What a waste of time," I muttered, trying to banish the NPC's squealing voice from my memory. It kept ringing annoyingly in my ears.
Hopping back on my horse, I skimmed the quest instructions, searching for the starting point. I'd just read more into the details once I got to where the journey began, which appeared to be —
I froze, staring at the name of the starting point. I had been everywhere on the map except this place. Don't get me wrong, I would've loved to go there sooner, but I'm not an explorer. A hero has no time to travel needlessly — and no reason to, either.
A grin spreading across my face, I flicked the reins of my horse. As though feeding off my excitement, she darted forward beneath me, and just like that, we were headed off to the most feared destination on the map — the swampland.
The journey took a couple of days. First, the main path cut straight through the canyons, where I had to keep my guard up; the canyons were known for being the raiders' Number One hideout. It made sense, seeing as the plateaus made for both a perfect lookout and an unbeatable ambush. Anyone traveling through best hope they looked more threatening than threatenable.
As someone who fit into the "threatening" category, I was in no rush to get through the canyons, looking forward to beating up a raider or two. But alas, no one attacked me, and I continued into the woodlands without so much as a hitch.
After about half a day, the woodlands slowly faded into the deadlands, which used to be called the "wastes", but evidently that name didn't suit the landscape well enough. I couldn't argue — looking at the terrain surrounding the path, I confirmed that everything was, in fact, dead. The trees stood colorless, their gray branches bare. Logs lay rotting across the washed ground, and I swore I spotted a few skeletons of unknown origin lying about.
I clicked my tongue, picking up the pace to a trot. I didn't want to spend any more time there than necessary. It gave me the creeps.
Finally, after two full days of riding across the map, I reached my destination. The coast of the swamp was surprisingly grassy and green; I don't know what I was expecting — maybe something similar to the deadlands, but with mushrooms and moss everywhere?
I dismounted my horse, taking in my surroundings. Turns out there was moss, but it was clinging onto trees, which I hadn't expected to see here. They stuck out of olive-tinted water, their thin branches twisting and tangling with one another until they created a spiderweb-like canopy overhead. With a closer look, I noticed multi-colored mushrooms growing on the trunks of the trees. Okay, so at least some of my assumptions were reasonable.
Pulling out my quest scroll, I read it through carefully, trying to memorize each point in the story. Quests usually began with a story, which always sounded like some stupid prelude to a children's play, but this one felt different — almost like it was real, like an old legend. Maybe that was just because it was so damn long, but something about it resonated with a sort of ancient truth.
The scroll read:
"Long ago, before the age of adventurers and heroes, the lands were populated by magical creatures. There were dragons, fae, unicorns, trolls, and the like. But hidden deep in the forest, protected by its natural magic, was a kingdom of elves. While the elves were considered egotistical and vain, they were also very artistic and created all sorts of beautiful trinkets in which they stored their magic for safekeeping.
"One of these trinkets was treasured above all, created for the queen by her beloved people. After the passing of their king, who had been brutally murdered by the jealous fae, the elves wished to protect the queen from all harm, magical or mortal.
"And so, the elves took a stone from the heart of the forest and embued it with their collective magic, spurred on by the love for their queen. They attached the stone to a golden chain so that the queen may always keep it with her, and thus remain safe from all which may threaten her.
"The stone worked wonders, and the queen ruled over the kingdom in perfect health; never threatened, never endangered. For its success in keeping their queen alive, the elves named the stone, the 'Lyfe stone'.
"Word of the Lyfe stone's power spread. Many a legend rose about it, and many hungered for its protection during such dark times. Among those who lusted for it was the queen's trusted advisor.
"One fateful night, the advisor snuck into the queen's sleeping chambers and stole the Lyfe stone from her slumbering frame. In her new unprotected state, the advisor ended the queen's life, naming himself king and bringing about the beginning of the end of the Elven Kingdom.
"Believing himself to be invincible, greed overtook the new Elven king, and he led the Elven army out of the forest, waging war on the unprepared creatures of the world. Entire populations were massacred within days.
"From their perches on the mountains, the dragons could see the destruction of the world below and knew the Elven reign of terror needed to be stopped. It took but a single night. The five dragons wiped out the Elven army, sacrificing two of their own in the process.
"However, in the havoc of the battle, the Elven king vanished, and his body was found in the trenches long after the war had ended, the Lyfe stone nowhere to be found. The dragons were dumbstruck — if they hadn't killed the king, who had? And where was the Lyfe stone?
"Despite searching for decades, not a single creature could locate the Lyfe stone, and it slowly faded out of the public mind, becoming all but a legend. Now, hundreds of years in the future, no one believes the Lyfe stone to be anything more than an old myth, told around the campfire as entertainment.
"No, the Lyfe stone is nothing but an old story. But you, o' brave adventurer... you don't believe that, do you? You wish to find the truth — a truth you may uncover if you dare to venture where you never set foot before.
"Travel to the swampland. Take a look, and see what you find. And remember; all stories have an origin. Perhaps it's your job to uncover it."
I stared at the parchment, barely blinking as I struggled to process the shitload of information revealed to me. "Well..." I murmured to myself, "that was intense." I'd never accepted a quest this serious before. Usually, they were more straightforward, like, "Defend the town against the hungry wolves", or just dumb and simple, like, "Help the fisherman fix his boat", "Find out why the farmer's crops won't grow", "Find the missing villager", etcetera, etcetera. But this...?
Glancing up at the swamp and staring through the thickets, I wondered how I was supposed to explore it. It wasn't like I could just ride my horse through the water...
I stopped, glancing back at my horse. She looked me in the eye and suddenly took a step back, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
"C'mon," I pried, beckoning her closer. She wouldn't budge, and I fixed a glare on her. "You're supposed to obey me," I reminded her, gesturing her forward again.
She shook out her mane, turning away from me.
I clenched my hand into a fist, rolling my eyes. "Stupid animal." I turned back toward the swamp to think, and something suddenly hurtled into my back, sending me crashing to the ground, gasping for air.
Once I caught my breath, I pushed myself up, the area of impact burning with ache. I looked over my shoulder to see my horse trotting away happily, and I realized with a spasm of anger that she'd kicked me.
"Fine, have fun trying to survive off the deadlands!" I shouted after her as she wandered away, and her head whipped around in my direction. "I'm going without you, and I'm taking your food with me!"
She suddenly whinnied, charging back toward me. I flinched, expecting her to plow into me or something, but she stomped to a halt before me, snorting indignantly.
I scrambled to right myself, standing face-to-face with this shithead horse that was meant to assist in my quests. She was given to me after I decided on the role of a hero, but the thing was, she hardly helped at all — the only thing she was good for was transportation.
"Listen here, you absolute nightmare of a companion," I told her aggressively, vaguely noticing the irony of the word, "nightmare" in this situation. "Either you do your job and help me out with this quest, or I leave you here and do it alone, therefore disowning you and your useless ass. What's it gonna be?"
The horse stared at me for a moment before snorting again, tossing her mane stubbornly. I waited, staring her down until she finally receded, bowing her head to me — although she stomped her foot irately as she did so. I took this as my answer — I mean, it's the closest I'd get to, "Yes, Archer," from a horse.
"Alright, then let's go," I said, waving the horse forward as I started toward the swamp. She followed me to the shore, and I tested the footing under the water with the tip of my boot. My foot sank slightly, but it didn't go much further than an inch, so I figured it should be fine to walk in.
"Good enough. If it starts getting difficult to walk, don't go any further, got that? I don't wanna have to dig you out of quicksand or some shit," I ordered, turning back toward the horse. I probably looked insane, conversing with an animal as if she could understand me — but after spending multiple years with her, I was convinced she actually could.
The horse flicked her mane, which could have been a typical horse tick, but I took it as an answer, anyway. I headed around the side of her, hoisting myself up onto the saddle.
"Easy, now," I urged, and we started forward slowly, creeping into the swamp.