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The guards recognize the four adventurers as they approach the Noob Town gates.
“Holy shit, it is them,” one guard says.
“See? I told you they weren’t dead,” the other one says.
The guards usher them inside, and Alice leads them through the streets to a tavern called The Loaded Die. There’s a sign on the front door that reads, “Closed for maintenance,” but she produces a keyring from her satchel and lets them all in. She takes down four chairs from one of the tables so they can have a seat, then lights a hurricane lamp and heads behind the bar. She returns a moment later with a tankard of ale, and all but slams it down in front of Phyr.
“There,” Alice says. “You happy now?” Phyr takes a big swig and swallows, oblivious to the Observation and Informedness rolls that he, Pannych, and Vector just failed.
“Yes,” he says, “Quite.” Alice nods, then fetches water for the rest of them.
“OK,” she sighs heavily, falling down into a chair herself. “Well, we all need showers. And laundry. I’ve got both here in the back, as well as some robes and loaner uniforms you can sleep in. There are extra bedrooms upstairs, too. You guys can level up in your sleep.”
“Right,” Phyr says, “How does all that work? With the 1 XP per kill and everything? You said you’d tell us.”
If you’re thinking, “WHOAH, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THIS,” then you can SKIP IT and click here. Now might also be a good time to read the prologue, if you skipped it the first time over.
If you’re thinking, “WHOAH, COOL, AN IN-UNIVERSE JUSTIFICATION FOR GAME MECHANICS,” then by all means, KEEP READING.
“Oh, yeah,” Alice says, “I did say I’d do that, didn’t I? OK, so basically, every living thing has a life force. And when you kill something, you absorb a small chunk of that life force for being around when it dies - about one percent. When you’ve absorbed enough life force, like a whole person’s worth, then you gain a level in power. And if you kill something that’s second level, you get twice as much; three times as much for third level, and so on.”
“Wait,” Phyr says. “Does that mean I could just kill a bunch of rabbits to gain a level?”
“I mean, you could,” Alice says, “But do you really want to do that?”
Phyr stammers for a moment, then looks down at the table and says, “No, not really.”
“Exactly,” she continues, “But you also gain life force for doing certain important things, too. Making progress toward life goals, things like that. Most people, they work the family farm, or get a job, or trade for a living - those folks certainly gain skills, but they can easily go their whole lives at first or second level. It’s usually only people like soldiers, or guild members, or adventurers who get past the first few levels. But they also lead dangerous lives, and tend to die young. So you don’t really see a whole lot of high-level people around. In fact, Vector, you’re probably higher level than 95% of the people in this town.”
“Huh,” Vector says. “Neat.”
“So, when I kill people,” Phyr says, “Does that mean I’m absorbing pieces of their souls?”
“No, not their souls,” Alice says, “Their life force. You can have a soul that’s not alive - like a ghost, or other spirit. The soul has identity, personality, will, and memory - life force doesn’t have any of those things, it’s just another kind of energy working its way down the mortal coil.”
“Mortal coil,” Phyr asks.
“Right, Metaphysics 101. Let me make you a picture,” Alice says. “Illusion!” She moves her hands through the air over the table, and figures of ephemeral light appear to illustrate her words. “So the world exists in three primary planes: the ethereal stream, the mortal coil, and the howling void.”
“The ethereal stream is a realm of pure change and no stability. Nothing ‘exists’ there, it’s not even a proper ‘place,’ it’s just a constant source of energy and potential. The howling void is the opposite: pure stability and no change. Nothing exists there, either; it simply consumes all that is spent and dissipated. It’s where things ‘go’ when they cease to exist - though again, it’s not really a ‘where’ at all.
“Now, in between these two, there’s the mortal coil: reality as we know it. Energy originates in the ethereal stream, then flows down through the mortal coil, where it changes from one semi-stable thing into another, and then it grounds out in the howling void. Here, there is actual space and time; here, there is both stability and change; and here alone, there is substance that is and does.”
“So when I kill something,” Phyr says, “Some of that energy goes into me, but most of it grounds out in the void?”
“That’s right,” Alice says. “OK, bedtime,” and she starts up from the table.
“But wait,” Phyr says, “How does magic work?”
“UGH,” Alice says, “Just go to the magic guild and enroll in a class already!”
“I can do that?”
“Yes! That is literally half of why they exist!”
“How long do those classes last,” Phyr asks.
“Like a year,” Alice says.
“Man, I don’t wanna wait a whole year - can’t you just bottom-line it for me?”
Alice groans and says, “Fine. OK, so what most people call ‘magic’ is actually three separate things: magic potential, magic performed, and magic manifested. Respectively: mana, abbe, and ether. All beings with magic affinity are able to contain a certain amount of mana, or magic potential, in their being. Think of it like a barrel that collects rain: when the barrel’s full, even if it keeps on raining, the overflow just moves right along without ever being contained.
“Now, when you cast a spell, that is abbe: magic moving through you, and you can put it to a useful purpose in the form of a spell. Think of it like a tap on that rain barrel: when you open the tap, the collected water can move through, and you can use it to, I don’t know, turn a water wheel or whatever.
“So when that wheel’s turning because of the water flowing past it, that’s ether: the material effect of you working your will upon the world. Most non-mages don’t bother to distinguish between the act of casting a spell and the effect that it has, but they are different - after all, if you miss with a spell, your mana’s still gone. Is that clear?”
“I think so,” Phyr says. “So, does that mean I could make some kind of a gadget that would collect mana on its own, and could I use that to make potions?”
“Of course,” Alice says. “How do you think mana potions are made?”
“I… never gave it a lot of thought, really,” Phyr admits. “So that would work?”
“Sure, but the ones they use in the magic guilds can get to be bigger than houses. Something that would fit in your belt would probably take eight to ten days just to make a 25 MP potion, and even then you’d have to charge it up a couple times a day to keep it working, and you’d have to babysit it to get the juice flowing into the bottle. Like, it’s probably not worth your time.”
“Aww, phooey,” Phyr says.
“Now that I’ve crushed your dreams, can it please be bedtime now?”
“Sure, I guess,” he says morosely.
The adventurers take some long, hot, much-needed showers, throw their clothes in the Laundromagic, and head for bed.
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