[You have inflicted wounds upon yourself! Remaining HP 30/50]
[Trait unlocked! Thickness of skin brought about by thickness of action. You have gained the Trait: Thick]
Dakkon rubbed his forehead and grumbled as he read the message. “I suppose it’s apt, though.”
Dakkon pulled up the information for his new Trait:
|-Thick: Gained from causing oneself great, unnecessary strain or damage. Every rank in Thick increases damage resistance by 0.1% and thickens physical features. Speciaclass="underline" Experience in thick is not lost on death.
Dakkon’s eyes widened. “Inventory!” he demanded, and spent several minutes looking over the appearance of his miniature, posable avatar, ensuring his features had not become noticeably thickened.
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It was 20:20 game time, and Dakkon had finally found a thread to grasp and follow. He needed to find a class trainer, any class trainer, and Correndin had a lot to choose from. There were common trainers that could be found everywhere: smiths, warriors, wizards, rangers, and the like; and then there were some less common and even region-exclusive trainers. Content, at first, to simply choose the first trainer he saw, Dakkon figured he might as well pick up something region exclusive. He poured over the rarest classes for the area and found what he was looking for: the thermomancer. There were just two problems. First, not too many players had managed to finish the thermomancer’s introductory training, and, those who did didn’t seem to think much about the power of the class. Second, the sole thermomancer trainer’s personality was the sort that wouldn’t stand taking on an apprentice who dressed like a tramp. And Dakkon looked, in his current state, far less appealing than your average tramp.
Dakkon didn’t care too much about the class being slightly underpowered, he wanted something rare in his arsenal. So that meant, again, his priorities had shifted to getting himself cleaned up.
“I’d better go to a clothier and see if I can buy something inexpensive but clean. I’d probably better visit a cordwainer, too, for a new pair of shoes. If I can’t afford what I need, then perhaps I can exchange my services for the goods.” Dakkon considered his options, “After I get clothes, I’d better take a dip in the river to clean off a bit.” Dakkon looked up the location of a clothier and decided that would be his first stop.
Walking outside for the first time in hours, Dakkon realized that there wouldn’t be much more daylight to work with. He could try to continue playing at night, find a place to sleep in game, or logout for a bit. He had spent about 12 hours playing in game time, which amounted to less than 2 in the real world. “That’d make it around lunch time,” Dakkon thought. “I don’t feel hungry, though, or tired for that matter.”
Dakkon walked in the direction of the clothier’s shop when he was suddenly approached by the very same city guardsman which he had talked to in the morning.
“Damn! You look like week old shite, boy,” the guard said with a hint of amazement in his voice. “How’d you manage… whatever it is you’ve done? No. Forget all that. I’ve got some news that’ll perk you up. You’ll be pleased to know that we caught your attackers trying to rob a merchant.”
“My, uhm, attackers?” Dakkon stammered. The cogs inside his head had been jammed a bit, but were in the process of righting themselves. Earlier in the day he had concocted a sub-par story about being mugged to explain his lack of manners and general knowledge of the area. “Oh, yes. Right. My attackers. You’ve apprehended them, then?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? You didn’t actually go and get hit again did you?”
Dakkon sighed. He’d gone so far as actually being mugged by hoodlums—well, sort of.
“We’ve gotten back your belongings.” The guard handed Dakkon a larger and sturdier canvas bag than the bloody and horrible one he currently used. “We couldn’t, um, find any of your money, unfortunately. The bastards must have hidden it away somewhere.” The guard’s face betrayed a hint of guilt.
Dumbstruck, Dakkon took the bag from the guard’s outstretched hand. Hiding his confusion, he gathered his wits to better navigate the unexpected situation. “No, no. That’s fine. It’s no problem at all. I’m just grateful you could return my belongings. If you do find the money, feel free to keep it as a reward for finding my things.”
The guard looked less than pleased to hear those gracious words and cursed to himself, “Ah, damn it. Right. Here, I almost forgot about this knife we found amongst the recovered goods. We were admiring it and… I had absentmindedly tucked it into my belt.”
The guard handed over a surprisingly ornate black dagger in an equally handsome black stone scabbard. He looked greatly relieved by the conscience-clearing act, but still clearly wanted to keep the interaction as short and sweet as he could. “Well, then, stop getting mugged, all right?” The guard said before quickly scampering off.
“What just happened?” Dakkon tried to put together the pieces of the bizarre scene he’d just been a part of. “They caught three guys matching the ludicrous description I gave, actually mugging someone?” He had trouble wrapping his head around the situation. “And besides the bag full of who knows what, I’ve been given a dagger that looks…” Dakkon trailed off while looking down at the dagger in his hands. It wasn’t black, after all, but a blue so dark the mistake could be forgiven. All of it. The handle, the pommel—Dakkon drew the blade, forgetting about the bag temporarily as it dropped with a muffled metal slink. The grooved blade appeared to be exquisite.
Remembering himself, Dakkon grabbed the bag off the ground, slung its strap around his shoulder, and quickly paced away in search of a safe spot to examine his windfall. “How much money did that damned guard make off with to make giving me this dagger seem reasonable?” The guard had clearly been of the incredibly honest sort. Perhaps even the act of keeping all of the money—which hadn’t been Dakkon’s in the first place—had been eating away at the man. Though Dakkon’s mind was filled with deciphering the various circumstances that led to his new bounty, his feet moved onwards and away, fueled by avarice.
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Dakkon found himself returning to the familiar territory of Griffin Square. The area was every bit as bustling at twilight as it had been when he first arrived in Correndin. With only one thought on his mind, Dakkon sat on an open bench to look through his new goods. First, he examined the bag itself:
|Name: Wayfarer’s Canvas Bag
|Item Type: Bag – Large Capacity
|Durability: 48/50
|Attributes: Water Resistant
|Description: Wayfarer’s bags are treated to withstand harsh weather conditions and contain a variety of pockets for any assortment of small to medium sized goods.
“Anything’s an upgrade to my bag in its current state,” Dakkon considered. “The water resistance will probably prove useful as well.” Next, he opened the bag and examined its contents:
|Name: Gentry Traveler’s Tunic
|Item Type: Armor - Cloth
|Durability: 20/20
|Armor Rating: 1