Bending the Rules Pt. 01: Beaten Path

Note: not based on any particular gaming system or franchise

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/There are rules/, Nuru reflected to himself, /and then there are The Rules./

He sipped his nameless fermented drink, carefully stepping around a hill of ants on the path.

Most rules were simple, and more obvious over time. Don't get caught breaking laws. Don't make powerful people angry. Don't antagonize beasts above your level. But The Rules were something else - generations of men had come and gone, building empires based on The Rules which underpinned the whole structure of society. The class system, the level system, the contract system, the quest system, all laid down ages ago by the gods' own gods. Each generation fell into the same pattern; learn, adventure, level, loot, and eventually perish amidst the accolades of their fellow party and guild members. All of his friends were waiting back in town for him to go to the town square and declare his class, toss the holy bones, and receive his stats. He could be out adventuring before the day was out, at long last.

There was just one problem: Nuru hated the classes. Barbarians were slow of wit, quick to anger, and even faster of sword arm. That was the idea, anyway; Zaire, his next-door neighbor, was a barbarian, wielding a massive war club and howled a spine-chilling war cry that could be heard for miles, which he did every morning like a rooster. His enchanted hyena skull helm gave a burst of initiative, which was great when fighting a minotaur or a rhinopotamus. But back at home, after the blood had cooled and the gentle flow of conversation would lead to softer, more academic situations, the man became irritable and, to Nuru's mind anyway, repulsively abrasive. Most women of the lower classes had little use for a loudmouth braggart in truth, though they may have held some prestige by proxy if they married him - until he came back dead with a sack of loot that might pay their way for a few months. But a hundred years is a long time to make such a thing last, and you only married once. That was one of The Rules; pacts ordained by the clergy were nigh impossible to undo, even in death.

Yet the more athletically inclined always tended to drift either to the way of the barbarian, or to the path of the paladin, the holy warrior who had no sense of humor and whose moral sensibilities were... blunt, to say the least. They generally never married, except in rare cases to another paladin; when a woman decided to put her ass where her mouth was when it came to pious words, she would be bitterly fought over until some male of the class managed to sway her affection, even if - perhaps especially if - she had taken a Vow of Chastity.

Thief? Rogue. Whatever you wanted to call them, they always needed a challenge, always looked for the opportunity to get one over on their fellow man; they were shameless parasites who served no real function in society for the common good, and only bothered questing because nobody actually left loot lying around in their own houses, but used the community bank instead. And those were the prestige classes; there were those as well for the youth who learned too slowly, or who had too little imagination and creativity. The classes looked down on so much, they were barely considered human, whose armor sets all looked the same. The "non-player character" classes, as if their lives meant nothing, and were just cardboard cutouts standing in place for the "real classes" to be able to do what they did.

And then of course, there was magic. Everybody was a mage; there wasn't a class specifically for it, and there didn't need to be. Everybody had their MAG stat. There were any number of rituals, prayers offered, training quests undertaken, money borrowed for questionably-effective potions, what have you; all for the hope of an extra point or two in this or the INT stat, which increased your MP or your spell limit, respectively.

He wandered aimlessly. So much of the world was denied to him in his current state, and most boys were right at the town square at dawn, waiting to choose their class and start their new life of adventure. Their parents would be there (if still living), their friends, representatives of all the guilds. It was the easiest thing, to be swept away, follow the path of so many that had gone before. But Nuru knew what it was really like. On the surface - always some new shiny bauble to find, some sack of currency to soak up, EXP to gain, praise of his fellow townsmen to hear, if he didn't die too soon, or too young. It was all so simple, and yet, uncompelling. Every day the grind. Find the quest, retrieve the golden widget, slay the monsters in the way. Nothing was ever truly new, no creative outlet remained for him to leave his mark. Day one after a great quest was achieved was fun: free drinks, attention from the ladies, laughter and dancing. But the day after, your name went up on the leaderboard, along with the ever-growing list of those who had already done so, including those who had already accomplished more than he ever would. Some few were rumored to have beaten every quest in the world, but they had all vanished shortly afterwards; dying, perhaps, of boredom, many entombed in a deep slumber, to awake some day in the future perhaps, becoming a quest-giver or even a boss in an Expansion- or die at their hundred-and-first birthday, as everyone did. They were venerated, their names spoken in reverent, hushed whispers, and so high on the leaderboard that the clouds obscured their names - but were they truly happy? Was this all there was to life?

There was really only one thing Nuru knew: he liked women. All shapes and sizes had their appeal, in one way or another. Many ages did, as well. But as a pre-class character, no one gave him the time of day. He could only look on, wistfully. Much of the world, however, was also open. He could not be attacked as a non-class character, and could go without any care for faction, character level, or moral alignment. Unless a door was locked or an archway guarded, no one would molest him or deny him, aside from the beasts of the wilderness which he knew how to avoid. While many of his friends wandered looking for the fattest chest to pillage, he instead chatted with the lower-classes, who had in many cases nothing better to do than wander around looking busy, or waiting for an adventurer to interact with them.

And so it was that the offhand comment of a farmer gave him pause.

"Heard something funny the other day," the farmer said. Nuru hadn't gotten his name.

"Oh?"

"Some wights came out of the glitch a few weeks back. Nothing new about that a'course, but they's got some kinda bug in 'em. They takes 3 of your MAG like usual, you see; 5 if they keep hitting you long enough. But the debuff never expires like it's supposed to. Weeks out and you're still crippled."

The Glitch was a subtle tear in reality, out in Chaos Faction land. Villain territory. Nothing good ever came of it, but those wackos never stopped finding new ways to self-destruct looking for some new spell or permanent buff. Every once in awhile, it would spawn a plague, which had a decent chance in turn of spawning a zombie horde, which would invade all the towns and which was both a celebrated and feared occasion; there was much EXP to be had, and much glory by body count. But Nuru stayed away from Chaos territory, and zombies; his parents had died in the last plague season years ago.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, some rogue was out there slaying a bunch of them, all his highest level spells was broken and he couldn't cast for dung until he killed the one that got him."

Well, that was odd, but these things happen. No doubt there'd be a special bounty on them, if they were so aggravating.

"Know what they look like?"

"Nah. They's just wights I reckon. Level twentyish, if that tells you anything."

Hmm. Well, it couldn't attack him for true. Sure, it would go through the motions, but he had no stats to hit, and no Initiative to preempt. Why did this intrigue him?

"Right. Just another day in paradise, eh?" Nuru said flippantly, turning to go. Back to town he went, on a quest of his own making. Just pretend, for now.

"Say, what're the bounties out there right now?"

The Mercenary's Guild representative shook himself alert.

"Ah! You scared me there. Thought some prickly thief had beaten my Listen Check to try to squeeze some extra cash out of me. Say, you're not even classed."

"Yeah, that's right. Today's my day."

"Ah. Barbarian's my recommendation. Great hits out of the gate. Bag you some little imps in no time. But say, you had a question, didn't you?"

"That's right. What are the bounties right now?"

"Oh, we've got all kinds. Slyzards, gronks, a few boss-level fiends, even a demon."

"What about wights?"

"Ehh, just a few. Coupla nibblers came through the Glitch, got a bite extra nasty. Nothing you need to worry about, of course. We'll have em gone in no time."

"Can you tell me where?"

"Now see here, that's not proper. Against The Rules, you know. No sport if you know exactly where."

"Aw, come on. I just want to look."

"Nothin' special about em to look at. They're wights; ugly, badly dressed, with terrible haircuts. Worst birthday guests ever, I don't care what your aesthetic is - smell's enough to turn your stomach for days."

"Come on, what's the harm in it?"

The man considered for a second.

"Mm - listen here, kid. They're above your level, even if you get an epic roll today."

"I just want to go look. Never seen wights before."

"Alright. You promise me you go before you get your class, I'll put it on your map. There's really only the one left. He hasn't fed, and he's gonna starve before you get anywhere close to his level, so just stay away once you get your stats."

"Make me a contract."

He made one up - a temp, the only kind a non-class could sign. In exchange for a rock of no actual value, Nuru would go find the future grave site for the wight, which was not far from the wight himself. The marking on the map, and the quest, would expire once the wight died or Nuru got his stats, which cancelled all temp contracts. Temps were the contracts used to get prospective adventurers ready for 'real' quests, and never had anything of actual value.

"Now scram, adults are working here."

He went. The map showed exactly where the wight stood, panting dryly in the noon sun. Nuru smelled him before he saw him, snuck up behind him. It was a patch of rock in an open field, which was just one field in a prarie full of them. Rabbit territory, empty of anything valuable, and too far from town to be convenient to trek early in the morning, was about all that could be said for it. The perfect place for a treasure chest, he thought. He turned and went back the way he came.

/What the hell. Let's try something crazy. If it doesn't work, I can turn to begging; paladins love a charity case now and then./

He walked up to the fountain in the town square.

"Nuru, are you ready to choose your class?" The Mayor asked brightly.

"Bard," he said.

The friendly smile slipped.

"Are you sure, son? There's hardly any glory in it."

"Keep your expectations low, and you will not be disappointed," he quoted.

"Ah, well, you'll be an adventurer. A prestige class, at least technically. Could open your own inn, make some good money in your later years, if you make it."

"Sure," he replied, picking up the holy bones. He threw them.

Decent scores.

"Again?" the Mayor said.

"Yes."

Another decent roll - no standouts, really. A bit low on the CON, but not exceptionally so.

Again.

Again.

Again. Yuck, that one's awful.

"Considered any special modifiers?" The Mayor asked. It wasn't unusual to wait until others were not in need of a set of holy bones, trying to get that really great roll. It mattered less at higher levels, and past level 50 everybody was the same aside from MAG; but sometimes it paid off early on. As long as you had recorded a roll before midnight, when it would be randomly selected for you, usually with a penalty of some kind, and a random class.

There. A pretty good roll: 16 CHA, 18 DEX, 10 CON. Modest STR of 12, LCK 10. 6 MAG, 7 INT, though; rather a bit low. Usually a high MAG score was what everyone looked for.

Average was 10. He was ahead, on the whole; he could afford to dump 2 points into his MAG from the other stats and not lose much.

"Ah! According to historical calculations, it'll take you an hour to beat this roll. Want to keep it?"

"Yes," Nuru said.

"OK, you get to move 2 points around. Which ones do you think you'll use the least?"

"MAG."

"Yes of course, we'll move it to your MAG, but from where?"

Nuru filled out his character sheet. He took a special modifier - Spirit's Blessing. It added an extra 2 CHA and 1 CON, in exchange for 1 MAG, and 1 DEX.

Then, in apparently random order, he copied his rolls, adjusting his CON up by two, and filling in the MAG last.

"See here son, you've got it wrong. I mean, the numbers work, but - "

"I'm done," Nuru said, moving the quill down to sign.

"No no, your magic score - "

"What's wrong with my math?" he demanded.

"Nothing! But your MAG is only 3! All the class feats will be useless! You'll be crippled!"

The Mayor made to stop him, grab his hands, but the Character Sheet was sacred - that was one of The Rules. When someone decided, you couldn't stop them. He signed, and The Mayor passed right through his body in the golden light emanating from the ground.

"Oh gods... Nuru... I'm so sorry. I..."

The man looked away. "Well. There's always the inn. Never hurts to have another one in town. Let me know, I'll give you a discount on the zoning permit."

Then, without another word, the Mayor strode off, back to business of the city. Nuru had been the last today.

Squaring his shoulders stubbornly, he turned and went to the bank.

"I need a loan," he said.

"Ah, Nuru! Let me see, new adventurer. Level one is it? How do I know you'll pay me back?"

"You don't. But make it an annual, 50% interest, and no forgiveness clause."

"My, we're a greedy one aren't we? What is it you think I'll give you for that price?"

"A thousand."

"Heavens! That's a risk and no mistake. But I find myself wondering just how much that'll be in ten years when you've not made a single payment."

"A full retirement I expect," Nuru said.

"Indeed. Well, sign here young adventurer. And I advise you, don't spend it all in one place. For the good of my investment, see. I really would hate for you to end up dead."

"Me too."

"Good day - and good luck!"

Then it was off to City Hall.

"I want a zoning permit," he said to the clerk behind the desk.

"What? Aren't the boys your age all over at the weapon shop, eyeing those nice pretty axes?"

"I'm sure. But I want a zoning permit."

"Well, that's sensible. Get your rest bonus in your own home for free, and it'll pay off in the long run. Nothing edgy, until you've got the loot to pay for it. What kind?"

"Residential, of course. Private."

"All right. How big?"

"Ten acres."

"My, that's excessive. Where at?"

"Rabbit country. That meadow with no name."

"Well, I don't see why not, but it's against regulation. I'll have to have it cleared with the Mayor."

He got up and walked to his office. Minutes later, he came back with the Mayor in tow.

"What's all this about?" The Mayor said.

"I'm building a homestead."

"Not an inn? Not that you have money for it, of course."

"Not yet. But I want to build it out slowly, over time, and I don't want any neighbors taking over adjacent real estate and ruining the vibe."

"Well all right. But you know once you zone it, it costs more to re-zone. There's also a consideration period while it goes to the planning committee in that case."

"I understand."

"Fine. In light of all that, I'm giving you ninety percent off the normal price. That's still twenty."

"Done," Nuru said.

"You've been there, I assume. You have to have that part of the map cleared before you can buy."

"I've laid eyes on all of it," Nuru confirmed, showing them his map.

They drew up paperwork, he paid, and left with a deed in his pocket - a deed that was, basically, worthless. For now.

He went to the Home Emporium.

"Yes, I need a fence built. Magic style."

"Don't want to get your hands dirty, eh? But I see you haven't got the EXP for that."

"Right. I want it right away."

"OK. Good country home style?"

"That one." Nuru pointed, indicating a solid cow pasture fence.

"A bargain for being rated for zombies, you know," the salesman said. "Just don't get too close, they can still reach through."

"Yeah," Nuru said.

"Alright, pull it up on your map. You have the deed?"

He showed it to him.

"Oh, you can't - ahem, OK, you *can* put this up here, but I'm sensing an obstruction for a larger structure. There's something there you need to clear out before a house can be built. Get somebody to check that out for you, first."

"It's fine, it's just an old hungry zombie about to die. It'll be gone by the time I have money to build the house."

"Well, I can do the fence anyway. How do you want it?"

"How much fence can I get for nine hundred?"

At ten per standard length, about as wide as he was tall, and fifteen currency for the corners, it came close to twenty by twenty standard lengths, or forty by forty paces more or less. A decent size, and enough to give him a bit of privacy from a distance, but not big enough to attract curiosity. He downsized it a little to give him a bit of money left over to be able to eat for a few days.

"It'll be ready by tomorrow," the conjurer said. "I'll even throw in a gate for free."

"Good enough," Nuru said. "Thanks."

He hadn't thought about a gate because he wasn't expecting to ever let the zombie out, but that might be handy someday.

He went to the market, and bought some food, then slept in a haystack. He woke up covered in centipedes, then ran to shake them loose all the way to the plot of land he now had. He marched right around the brand new fence and stared at the wight. It failed its spot check for awhile, unsurprisingly. Once it did notice him though, it was right up to the fence-line in a flash, whispering wordlessly at him and stretching its hands out through the fence.

"Well, here goes nothing," he said - and stepped close to the wight's reach.

It intensified its efforts, waving its arms hungrily at him, clutching at the air.

"Easy," Nuru muttered to himself. "Take it easy."

He took a step closer. He was in mortal danger here; if the wight got hold of him properly, he would be killed very quickly. There was only one thing he wanted to do.

He stretched out a hand, palm-first. The wight strained. Its cold finger scraped the heel of his hand, drawing a gasp of pain from him. It had done only a glancing blow, but its touch pulled all the energy from the air. He put his hand just a little further out, and waited. The wight thrashed, trying to reach him but falling short. But he knew better than to get any closer. If it had touched him once, it could do so again. Finally, a finger reconnected with his hand, and he cried out as most of his HP left him in a single blow, throwing him backwards to crumple on the ground, cradling the hand that felt like it was on fire. Worse than that was the nausea; he vomited immediately once, twice, four times. The wight cackled at him softly. Menacingly. It fell back, writhing with pleasure. It had now fed, and was in some form of physical ecstacy. And if the debuff was permanent, so was the feed - it would never die now.

Nuru sat back with all of his worldly possessions - a sack of food, and the clothing on his back, and waited. He hoped he would recover before the food ran out.