Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

Renown

Renown is the measure of fame or infamy you possess in a locale. In every location where you complete (or fail to complete) quests, you can potentially gain renown. Renown is important for players interested in Mass Combat.

Like most things in Archemi, Renown is accrued through points. After accumulating a certain number of renown points, you gain bonuses or penalties to dealing with people in your locale. The size of the locale where you command fame or terror varies depending on your renown tier. The tiers are as follows:

●       0-300 - Stranger: Unknown and unnotable.

●       301-700 - Adventurer: Some people have heard of you, and neighborhoods where you completed adventures are friendly/hostile. You can gain the alliance of small units.

●       701-1081 - Local Hero/Villain: You are a person of note in your city, able to command respect, fear, or both. You can potentially command loyalty from a medium-sized organization.

●       1080-2217 - Public Figure: You are well-known everywhere in your locale. Bards begin composing and singing about you, spreading the news of your deeds. You can command small armies under a General or other important figure.

●       2219-5628 - Idol: You are known across your nation and are sought after for your abilities. You can potentially command larger armies as a general.

●       5629-12450 - Celebrity: Your deeds have spread internationally, and your fame is recognizable across borders. You may command generals in warfare.

●       12451+ - Legend: Your deeds will go down in history, heroic or villainous. You may qualify to rule a kingdom.

Chapter 1

The Bashir Desert, Dakhdir

We were almost at the end of the Stone Forest when the bandits finally decided to make their move.

“God fucking dammit,” I muttered to Cutthroat. Hauling on her reins, I drew the dinosaur to a reluctant, prancing halt. Four shadows slipped out across the sand from behind and around us - big shadows, animals with riders. “We don’t have time for this.”

“The big black hookwing threw her head back, snapping her jaws petulantly behind the iron cage around her face. “Skreeek!”

“I know, right?” I put away the [Bronto Jerky] I’d been gnawing for the last half hour and unequipped her iron muzzle. It vanished from her face and into the depths of my Inventory. “Well, girl, how do you feel about murdering some bandits?”

The coal-black dinosaur stamped her feet, rocking me side to side in the saddle. I felt her lungs expand as she raised her head high, inflated her throat with a hiss and weaved her head, flexing the sword-like single claw on each hand. I took that as a yes. Cutthroat was usually down for murder.

I could feel them moving around us, mutated senses picking up the scuffle of feet on sand and stone, the click of wood, and the sound of a flintlock hammer being cocked back. We hadn’t gone more than fifty feet when a dozen smaller, slimmer hookwings materialized from the walls of the narrow canyon road, stepping out from behind the coral-like formations of red stone that had earned the Stone Forest its name. The dinosaurs and their riders were dressed to blend in with the desert. Faded orange cloth draped over their saddles and armor distorted and disguised them. Dun-colored scarves were wound around their heads, leaving only their eyes visible between layers of fabric. The mounted bandits pointed pistols and crossbows at the three of us. There were sounds from above. I turned my head just enough to look up there – another six waited on the lip of the canyon, sighting down the barrels of smoothbore rifles.

“Do not move!” The [Bandit Leader] was at the front of the cavalry line. He was a big man, but he had a voice like a squeaky wheel, high-pitched and melodramatic. “We have poison on these bolts! My men will drop you and the girl and leave your bodies for the scorpions if you try to flee!”

“Snnrk. Huh?” Karalti, who had been snoring against my shoulder, jolted upright. Bleary-eyed, she wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and peered at the throng of bandits. Her telepathic voice was thick with sleep. “Whoa. Who are these guys?”

“A huge waste of our time.” I shrugged, and switched from communicating telepathically to speaking aloud. “Okay. Sure thing, boss.”

The point they’d picked to waylay us was odd. The canyon narrowed toward the end of the road, just big enough to allow a pair of wagons through into the endless dunes of the Bashar Desert. We were only about a hundred feet from freedom. This suggested one of two things: either the bandits knew something about this spot I didn’t, or they were really, really dumb.

“Do as we say, and no one gets hurt.” The [Bandit Leader] motioned with his crossbow. “Both of you, get down off the bird.”

I held up my hands. “Look, dude: how about I give you guys something for your time and we go our separate ways? I’ve got less than eight hours to break my girlfriend out of prison before we have to meet with the Volod of Vlachia-”

“SILENCE!” The [Bandit Leader]'s voice jerked up an octave. I winced, and Cutthroat’s head jerked. It was like nails down a blackboard for us both. “Get off the hookwing! Or die!”

“Dude, seriously. Look at me. I'm Level fucking 23. Do I LOOK like the kind of guy your Level 10 NPC ass wants to shake down?” I gestured to the impassive black visor of my helmet. “I mean, come on. Didn't your teachers in Bandit School ever tell you to ever avoid lone travelers who dress all in one color?”

He squeezed the trigger until it clicked. “Get! Off! The bird!”

“Okay, alright already... Jeez.” I heaved a long-suffering sigh, patted Karalti’s leg, then slid down to the ground. “Come on, Tidbit.”

The girl yawned, stretched, and slithered down to join me, and every one of the bandits immediately stood to attention. Karalti was petite and gorgeous: a lithe ribbon of muscle, with long, straight blue-black hair that