We're still here and we're still half-naked. Going to the IG fort isn't really optional.
There's a caravan. There is also a merchant being robbed by thugs. What can we do? Nothing since we're a low-level block character and we need heavy armor.
I feel as if the game is telling us something. Only plebs like arenas though so we just continue onward to Pavola.
"An observant person could deduce much about Legatus Pavola by his rank and posting. Maadoran is the last place where troubles are expected, which means that the legatus' abilities weren't needed elsewhere, which means they weren't needed at all. At the same time, it was an important post, which could only be given to a reliable officer accustomed to carrying out orders quickly and efficiently, without ever questioning them. Finally, both the rank and the posting suggested that Pavola was a performance-oriented officer who knew how to keep his superiors happy - an often overlooked trait but vital for one's advancement." To summarize: he's a competent but average officer who needed to go somewhere so he ended up here.
"Carrinas!" (Antidas!) says Legatus Pavola instead of greeting you. "That son of a bitch could never get along with anyone. (He seemed to like us, I suppose we aren't a queen though.) They thought they got rid of him when they sent him to Teron. He sure showed them! And now what? Now Gaelius looks at me as if I'm his enemy. Now I have to be. Now it's him or me. Fucking Carrinas! They should have just spared us the headache and sent that son of a bitch back to the wasteland."
Options are either "Well, he did succeed..." or the extremely dense "What headache?" I think I know what I'm going to pick.
"Well, he did succeed..."
"He did," agrees Pavola. "Carrinas is the new lord of Teron. We all dreamt to rule Teron one day, but he went to conquered it. And then he wept (for the end of innocence?) because there were no more shitholes to conquer. A tragic fucking tale."
"You mentioned a problem?" I guess we have to be dense.
"How do you think Gaelius reacted to the news? (15000 imperials worth of concubines and wine?) We are guests in his city. I did twenty five hard years in the wasteland to earn this post. I wanted peace and quiet and what better place to enjoy it than Maadoran - the city of all cities. Lucky for me, Carrinas had other plans, so now I have to look over my shoulder and wonder what Gaelius is up to, especially after I let that fat fuck Strabos talk me into getting involved in his plot."
"Peace and quiet? That's all you dream of?"
"What else is there? Oh, I was young once too and thought that we fight for something, that we have the power to make the world a better place, that our sacrifice has a purpose. It doesn't."
"Me, I can live with it. Carrinas can't. His life must have a meaning. His sacrifice a purpose, even if he has to start a war to forge it in fire. Still, I'm a soldier and if I have to fight, I will. I would have preferred peace and quiet though." At least Pavola is a mediocre leader with no ambition, he could've been Antidas, he could've been Antidas.
"You mentioned a plot?" You mentioned possible plot advancement?
"Pavola sighs. "Strabos, the head of the merchants, came to me and asked me to back him up. The way he presented it to me, it was a done deal. (That argument was, if you can't remember, something around the lines of "You're fucked no matter what happens, so get in our bed and it'll be a bit softer.") Gaelius would be gone, Serenas - his nephew - would take his place and the rest of us would be back to peace and quiet."
"Guess what? The Boatmen got involved and a lot of people, including Serenas and other conspirators, ended up dead. Except for Strabos. Which is where you come in."
"What do I have to do with that?"
"Strabos is shitting his pants. Rightfully so, I might add. He's begging me to protect him. I wouldn't even speak of it, but he's offering a trade - his life for what he claims to be vital information."
"I don't want my men to be seen around a traitor who conspired to kill Lord Gaelius, but you are new to the city. Nobody knows you." Especially Gaelius, he blacks out when he's sassed.
"What do I have to do, Legatus?"
"Spend an evening with him, listen to his bullshit, kill anyone who might look threatening, and get the info. One evening. That's the deal I made with Strabos. They kill him tomorrow - not my problem. (That sounds like a massive oversight in his plan.) Tonight, he's safe because one of my finest will be looking after him," he says, slapping you on the shoulder."
"I was told that my things will be sent here. Where can I find them?" Deep within your heart.
"Do I look like a quartermaster to you? Talk to Vitus, he should have it."
"What do you need?" inquires the quartermaster, his tone indicating that the only acceptable answer to his question is "nothing"." I don't know why Vitus has a name, but he does.
"Do you have my things?"
"They're in the chest over there. Here's the key."
"Thanks." Say farewell to the LP, Vitus. You'll probably never be featured again.
Now that we've gotten our equipment, there is a special someone that we're going to give a stern talking to.
No, not that guy.
This guy.
"You see a drunken man yelling at the patrons and waving around his spear. Accustomed to his outbursts, the patrons seem to be ignoring him. You couldn't help but notice that it's a damn good spear, steel, custom-made."
"Nice spear." This guy was added in an update by the way. He's got a one-handed spear with two-handed range, it's kinda something we want.
"Nice spear?! Ha! This spear had made me the champion of the fucking arena (That's an unfortunate bit of wording there.) back when the title meant something!" He shoves the spear in your face, presumably for closer look (sic)."
"Just ignore him," says one of the patrons. "Kadmos is always like that when he starts drinking."
"Was he really a champion?" Is that really blue-steel armor?
It is."Hard to believe, eh?" says the patron. "You should have seen him ten years ago when he was in his prime. Now he's a pale shadow of what he once was."
"Provoke Kadmos." What else are we going to do? Tickle him?
"Pretending to leave, you bump into Kadmos and shove him out of your way."
"Watch it!" yells Kadmos, looking pissed. "You spilled my drink. You're lucky I'm -"
"Lucky you don't remember how to hold that spear anymore?"
"Kadmos stares at you drunkenly as the words sink in. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face and for a moment there you see that lethal spearman who ruled the arena ten years ago. Then the moment's gone and all you see is a drunkard, swaying on unsteady legs."
"You an me," says Kadmos. "My final performance." At least the man we're killing for material reasons wants to be killed. We've got that going for us.
Guess we're going to fight in the arena after all.
Although I question the legitimacy of this crowd.
(Had to reload because I forgot to heal\repair equipment.)
Kadmos has the range of a two-handed spearmen and can still attack in close-quarters. This is going to be rough, might even have to do this later.
He doesn't do much damage to us and we don't do much damage to him. Probably should've made poison for this fight.
Despite being decidedly mediocre, Kadmos' armor deflects most of what we do. Meaning...
"You try to get up, but you can't. The puddle of blood around you is getting bigger. You know what it means, but you refuse to believe it. It can't end like this. You try to say something, but almost choke on the blood and pass out."
"Later on the slaves pick up your body and drag it to the dump. You're still alive when they throw your body into a large pile of rotting corpses and waste - your final resting place. The smell is nauseating. You start praying for a merciful death, but the gods are busy and you have to wait for hours until your wish is granted." This is the generic death message, I might write new ones to replace this now that we've seen it, but I wouldn't count on it.
"Kadmos spasms violently again and falls down, convulsing uncontrollably. Finally, Kadmos' heart stops and he lies still." Did it on the second try. Blue-steel can't protect your blood.
Kadmos has some nice stuff to say the least. We haven't even really lost anything from killing this dude! The most we'll have to pay is the healing expenses.
Speaking of healing expenses.
[
stat damage] "Let me see," says the healer. "Do you know that one of your eyeballs is hanging out of its socket? It's not a pretty picture. Hmm... the skull is caved in. Lucky for you, I've just got a new Dent Repair kit. You won't even notice the damage after I'm done. What else is there? Smashed ribs, ruptured organs, the works. Had some fun, did you?'
"150 imperials. consider it an investment into your well-being."
Goddammit lady, why can't you play ball? I suppose we'll have to go to Strabos then.
Well, maybe we don't have to go to Strabos yet.
"A deeply tanned fellow works at loosening some netting on a cart laden with sacks and baskets of produce. His thinning hair jerks about as he vigorously yanks a corner knot free and tosses the net to the front of the cart. Pausing just long enough to wipe his forehead with the back of his forearm, he grabs a basket of potatoes and turns to carry it over to the nearby stall. He moves with the strength and efficiency of one well accustomed to physical labor."
"Got a moment?"
"Yeah. Several." He grunts as he sets the basket down by the stall and begins walking back over to the cart. "Planning to spend them all on these baskets though." He grabs another basket and pauses to give you a grin, "But if you can work and talk, I can talk and work." He slides the basket off the cart and turns for the stall."
"Roll up your sleeves and grab a basket of onions, "Fair enough."
"Name's Eugenius," he says as the two of you walk over and stoop to sit the baskets down. You head back to the cart and grab a sack of what is probably dried beans as Eugenius lifts a basket of dust radishes."I can't help but wonder what I've got to say that would be important enough for you to lend a hand to hear it." Isn't stalling a conversation with Strabos a reason enough?
"Looks to be a good load here. Is it not difficult raising a harvest out there?"
"Eugenius squints his eyes inquisitively and grins, "What do you think?"
"He pauses and looks up into the sky, his face turning grim. "Some years are brutal, trying to scratch a living out of the dirt. You feel like a damn fool trying to coax stubborn seeds up out of the ground in this," he waves his hands around, "hellish world. Who can blame them, right?"
"But then, some years, a few showers here and there... it almost feels like the gods might just still give a shit. They probably don't," he quickly and matter-of-factly adds, "but when you go from a year where you're spitting on prickle fruits seeds every day just to get them to sprout... to a year like this one." he points to the baskets of produce, "its almost enough to give a man religion again."
"Why do you keep doing it?"
"Well, we gotta eat, don't we?!" He laughs heartily before trailing off and wiping his eyes. He lets out a mirthful sigh then turns serious again. "It's a noble profession, you know? Farming. I mean, I'm no house noble by a long shot but it's an honest living. Keeps my conscience clean and my neighbors fed. These are troubled times, no doubt, but at the end of the day I know I took care of myself and didn't hurt anyone while doing it. (What about the plants, you monster?) The harder I work, the more I grow. The more I grow the more money I earn *and*... the more food there is for you to buy. Sometimes what's good for one is good for another. A novel notion these days."
This is one of those mammoth dialogues. I'm not going to go through all of the options but I'll at least go through the important ones.
[
alchemy success] "Potatoes, onions, dust radishes, and some very healthy tomatoes. No luck with yellow gourds I'm guessing?"
"Eugenius stops and eyes you quizzically, "None. They won't take. How'd you know?"
"They're conspicuously absent from your otherwise impressive harvest. They don't tend to do well in areas where tomatoes grow that large. Your soil is probably acid bent. Prior to turning soil for the new season, has the winter sedge grown in thick?" Poison-crafting has practical uses too. Why not be an alchemist?
"He smiles, "It does."
"It's possible to shift your soil's nature. If you can, acquire limestone... enough to fill two of those sacks. Your best bet would likely be the salt mines to the west. Cook the limestone fiercely and then grind it fine. Spread it evenly over your gardens and you'll likely see a measurable harvest increase, including yellow gourds if you wanted. You're the farmer, but I'd leave a spot untreated for the tomatoes. I'd hate to see those beauties suffer."
"If it works, I'm indebted to you for this advice. Thank you." Alright, that was a lot of text. So much text in fact that I'm going to end this dialogue here. Enjoy random farming advice, dude.
Strabos, o Strabos, where art thou?
Right in front of us. If you thought you were safe from pop-scares in this LP, you were wrong!
"What do you want?" asks Strabos with disdain. "Who are you?"
"
The last woman you'll ever see. Pavola sent me."
"What?" explodes Strabos in rage. "I asked for twenty
good men! I thought they would surround the building and wouldn't let-"
"I can assure you that I'm as happy about it as you are."
"That's very reassuring. Are you one of those individuals worth at least twenty men? The kind whose sword is a natural extension of their arm, that sort of thing?"
"That's me."
"Gods be praised," sighs Strabos with relief. "I wonder how many men the Boatmen will send. A man of my status and influence? I wouldn't be surprised if they send two teams, so stay alert."
Guarding a merchant from vague threats? I feel as if we've been here before. Suppose the familiarity will help.
The Maadoran MG has turned into a haunted house; it'll even have real skeletons soon!
"I can't believe Pavola gave me one woman. Well, if I die, the joke's on him. Trust me."
Once again, we wait.
The day is almost over when a man in his fifties walks into the guild, glancing around casually. "Master Strabos," he says politely."
"Fuck!" yells Strabos, moving away. "It's Hamza! The assassin! Do something, Gnaea! Kill him!"
"The man looks at you without any emotions. "Shall we get to it?"
Hamza can fuck you up if he can hit you. He's a master of poison and critical hits, but he's not a master of constitution thankfully so we can just out-poison him.
"You're lucky he came alone, Gnaea," says Strabos, breathing heavily. "I'm tempted to tell Pavola to fuck himself for what he did to me, but I'm a man of my word. And if Gaelius brings the Ordu here, we're all fucked."
*Boatmen reputation decreased*
"That Ordu?" No really though, The Ordu? Why would Strabos tell a random Guard about the Ordu?
"Gaelius doesn't trust the Imperial Guards and the recent... events didn't improve his faith in people around him. He made a deal with the Ordu. They will be coming through the mountain pass. It's Pavola's only chance to stop them."
"I'm new here. Can you explain what you're talking about?" I think we might need an exorcist to get rid of the exposition-wraith possessing Strabos.
"We're protected from the north by a mountain range, which is the only reason why we haven't been overrun by the Ordu yet. They are fucking savages, bred to fight and kill. These hellspawn live in tents made of animal skins and drink the blood of their horses. Bringing them here is like inviting the fox into the henhouse. If they get through the pass, it's over. We won't be able to stop them."
"And Gaelius hopes to control them?"
"He thinks he can. He thinks that he can elevate their khan and his generals and they will serve him faithfully, out of fear to lose it all, like civilized men do. But the Ordu aren't civilized. The (sic) care about these things and by the time Gaelius realizes it, it will be too late."
We could say more, but I'd rather not talk to Strabos more than is necessary.
"Report!"
Hamza is dead! The Ordu are coming!
"So much for peace and quiet," groans Pavola. "Take one squad and go to the pass. I'll send several pigeons with the orders to lock the pass tight and wait for your arrival."
"I'm putting you in charge, Gnaea. Your orders are to hold the pass against the Ordu no matter the cost, even if you're the last woman standing."
"See the quartermaster before you go. I'll instruct him accordingly. Dismissed!"
*You gain a new insight - 16 skill point gained.*
*You receive 150 imperials for your service*
*Imperial Guards reputation increased*
Somehow I doubt this quartermaster will have better stuff than we already have, but we might as well check him out.
"My orders are to hold the pass against the Ordu. I'll require your best weapons and armor."
"Right," says the quartermaster, looking at you skeptically. "Well, as it happens, all our gear is fairly standard, but I can probably spare a couple of steel ingots if you know what to do with them."
"But the legatus said -" Sadly there wasn't an option to leave this dialogue immediately so this is what you get.
"The legatus believes that issuing orders is enough to restock our supplies and conjure quality steel out of thin air, but you and I, we know better, don't we?"
"Are you saying that the Imperial Guards are under-equipped?"
"Don't be daft, Gnaea. The priority is to keep our legions in the wasteland well fed and looked after. The garrisons that are just for show get the leftovers. Get it?"
"Alright, what *can* you spare?"
"Three... Ok, fine, four steel ingots and a couple sharpening stones. If you want to know how to take good care of your gear, I can teach you a thing or two."
"I'm all ears." Please no. I just wanted some shitty armor I could sell!
He then says a bunch of stuff about smithing and increases our crafting. If we were a smith I would transcribe this, but we aren't. See you at the healer.
A fortune of imperials later and healer lady finally plays ball.
"You look like the adventurous type," says the healer instead of her usual greeting, "judging by your present condition and the number of times I had to patch you up."
"It occurred to me that we can help each other. There are rumors of a certain pre-War elixir called Rapid Cellular Regeneration and I'd love to get my hands on it. The job's dangerous, but danger is your middle name, ain't it?"
"What's in it for me?"
"You'll be the guinea pig and the lucky recipient of the first batch of the elixir. If it goes well, as I'm sure it would, you'll never need my services ever again. Why, your wounds would close instantly the moment you get them and you'll be unstoppable in battle, but first, you need to get me the key reagent called the Extract of Amaranthus, of course. So, do we have a deal?" Yeah, the whole using a healer thing repeatedly thing is so only combat characters will get this quest. Pretty clever bit of game design really.
"Sign me up!"
"I've heard an interesting story of a hidden village up in the mountains. THe man who told it to me swore up and down that there are chambers filled with ancients (sic) vats going deep into the mountain."
"He claims that he was given a few drops of the very extract I seek. It's an elixir so rare that it was thought to be a myth. You see, there are more than seventy species fo Amarathus and most are common as dirt. Yet, there were always rumor (sic) of a rare species of this plant with almost mystical properties and now we finally have proof that it exists." "Proof."
"So, whom do you expect me to fight? The villagers?"
"The man who sold me the exact location of the village ended up dead a few days ago. I admit that I was skeptical when I first heard his story, but it looks like someone took him seriously and shut him up for good. So, expect some competition."
We won't be doing that for a while since it's a tough quest from what I remember. Anyway, I started up the power armor quest too just in case anyone wants to do that. Isn't required, but it definitely has its rewards.
With side-questing out of the way we can finally go to Harran's Pass.
"You've heard many stories about
Harran's Pass. (The IG theme is pretty much made for this scene, listen to it.) In the stories it was a legendary place, high in the mountains. Great warriors, each worth a hundred of the wasteland scum, were tasked to ensure the safety of the southern cities. Time and time again, they held the pass against those who would destroy us. Travelers bold enough to brave the dangers spoke of towers almost touching the clouds, picturesque views, and the horrors of the wasteland."
"As usual, the reality proved to be far less glamorous. The pass is nothing but a wide ledge on the side of the mountain. Two walls blocked the ledge, forming a makeshift fort, housing two small buildings - a place to sleep and a place to eat? - and two old, weather-beaten, wooden towers threatening to fall apart at any moment."
"The "great warriors" look more like the very cutthroats they are supposed to defend travelers against than military men. They are well armed. Perhaps, too well, you wouldn't be surprised to learn that they do a bit of raiding on the side."
"You must be Gnaea," says the Centurion - a young man with quick eyes. "My name is Bass. Welcome to my humble kingdom!"
"I expected a bit more."
"Everyone does," nods Bass. "But this place isn't so bad once you get used to it. Good air, plenty of goats."
"What about the Ordu?"
"They know better than to mess with us, so we don't see them often. We do a bit of trading with them, but that's about it."
"When was the last time they attacked?"
"Probably, forty years ago or so. The Ordu burned down the outpost and charged into the valley below, straight into the waiting arms of the Aurelian legions. The Aurelians chopped them to pieces and rolled their heads down the mountain."
"The sight of thousands (sic) heads raining down on the Ordu camp below left such a strong impression on them that they've stayed away ever since. Of course, now things are about to change. Nothing lasts, eh?"
"Did you get Pavola's missive?"
"We did," nods Bass. "Closed the pass right away and caught the sneaky bastard in time. He masqueraded as one of the traders." RIP Vibius, you had to die eventually.
"How did you know it was him?"
"We didn't. He was my second guess."
"What happened to the first guess?"
"He died," says Bass in a straight forward manner. "We had to be sure, and by the time we were, he was on his way to better pastures. It was my understanding that there was certain urgency, so we erred on the side of caution."
"Where is the messenger?" Probably on a cross.
"Dead. We had to make sure he kept nothing from us and there is only one way to do it," Bass shrugs. "Don't worry, he told us all he knew and then some."
"What did the messenger tell you?" That the end is nigh!
"Turns out he wasn't the first messenger and probably not even the second. The negotiations with the Ordu have been going for a while. They are getting ready to move and will be here soon. So, you and I have a lot of work to do."
"You and I?"
"The last, best hope of the southern cities. Ready to lay down their own lives to protect their loved ones. Do you have any loved ones, Gnaea?"
"Yes." It's hard not to fall in love with a spear like ours.
"You're a lucky woman. Me, not so much. Hard to get loved ones when you're stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, unless you count this lovable bunch," he gestures to his men."
"I already sent a message to Caer-Tor, but it will take them a while to get here, assuming they would want to get here in the first place, instead of letting the Ordu cross the pass and watch what transpires from a safe distance."
"And in the mean time?"
"In the mean time, you will pay the Ordu a visit and try to talk some sense into them, while I stay and see to the defences. The walls won't stop a child."
"And why would I do that?" So you can learn the customs of your enemy and use them against them!
"Because I need all the help I can get, and so far you're the only help I've got. So, if you think that I will let you go back to Maadoran, waving good-bye and waiting for the Ordu to kill us all, you are very much mistaken. I can't force you to help me, but I can order my men to throw you off this god-forsaken mountain. If anyone comes looking for you, my men will swear that you tripped and fell. So, feeling patriotic yet?"
"Very. What do you want me to do?"
"Anything you can do to slow them down. According to the messenger, the Ordu weren't as eager to come to Maadoran as you'd think. Apparently, the idea of serving Gaelius and living in a city doesn't sit well with them. Lucky for Gaelius, things are getting harder and the plains aren't what they used to be, so Thorgul - their lord - is willing to come. Some of his men see it as a betrayal of everything they hold holy - like shitting where they like, hence the conflict." All they have to do is go to the Slums if they want to do that, just saying.
"The Ordu camp is easy to find. Head north until you clear the mountains, then turn left and head west. It's a ten-day journey, but as long as you stick to the mountains, you should be safe."
And so we return to the road.
"It takes you almost two weeks to reach the Ordu camp. It's a loose arrangement of large, round tents made of felt, worn out and patched. The camp reminds you of a busy bazaar and smells of cured meat and strange spices. All around you the Ordu tend to their business - fixing tents, butchering sheep, curing leather, working with metals, fletching arrows. The men seem indifferent to your presence; perhaps your reputation as a great warrior simply hasn't reached them yet." Now that final sentence actually makes sense!
There's a number of things we can do here, such as poisoning this well. Sadly, it requires sneak and steal and we have no skill in either.
At least we can talk to Thorgul without sneaky skills.
"Description, description, description."
"Description then dialogue."
"I bring greetings from Lord Gaelius."
"Annoyed dialogue."
"Who are you to question Lord Gaelius? Now that you've agreed to serve him, you will do wise to remember your place."
"And what is my place?" asks the khan calmly, stopping his bondsmen with a gesture." Pretty sure this is new dialogue anyway.
"That of any vassal, of course. You and your men will be given food and lodging in exchange for faithful service and obedience. You will lead your mean as their khan, for as long as my lord is pleased with your service. If not, another will take your place."
"I'm puzzled," says the khan, managing to control himself. "The other emissaries carried a very different message. They spoke honeyed words of friendship and new beginnings. You speak as one would to a dog."
"I would please me (sic) to watch you killed, but business must always come before pleasure. Explain khan Gaelius' change of heart to me and I'll grant you a clean death." A death screen approaches...
[
persuasion "Did you really think that you'd come to Maadoran as Gaelius' equal? On these plains you are a khan, but in Maadoran you'll be Gaelius' dog kept on a short leash, lest it bites its owner. I thought you knew that."
[
failure] "No," says the khan shaking his head. "Something is amiss here. Take her away!"
Looks like we're about to be booted back to the mai- oh hey. The game is still going!
"The khan's bondsmen take you to a small tent, serving as prison. "Your weapons!" demands one of them."
These guys are like two mini-Hamzas and we don't even get a special death screen when they kill us. I'll try to win this battle just in case something special does happen. This is probably just an extended death screen though.
Poison really is our bread and butter when it comes to combat. Good thing the game never nullifies its power.
"It looks like the noise of the fight was drowned in the noise of the camp. You put on the Ordu armor and slip away quietly."
At this point we could try and poison the well again, but it still requires stealth. Back to Bass it is.
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Topic: Let's Play The Age of Decadence Part Holiday Spirit: Christmas Special (Read 46473 times)