Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon) by G. Akella, Mark Berelekhis Page A

Lars would have wanted his Tear to go to the person who saved his people. As for the ring in the case," the archmage's face assumed the highest degree of seriousness, "its plain appearance is very deceptive, and I would advise against handling it directly. It won't bring my people any good, but you... You should decide for yourself. And that's that," he gave a wistful smile and gazed up at the sky, which was growing rapidly awash with light. "Farewell, my apprentice. The goddess is calling for me."
    "Farewell, master, and thank you for everything..." the last words I spoke into nothingness, as Altus' ghost had already disappeared. No pillar of light, no swarm of sparks. Having been such a great boon to me, the archmage had simply vanished into thin air.
    In the meantime, dawn was breaking in Demon Grounds. The first rays of the morning sun had already penetrated the ravaged gorge, illuminating meekly the sites of two great battles, tracing silhouettes of molten stones and reflecting off the glass-like surface of rock. My heart felt heavy. I realized that Altus had found his long-sought redemption, and might have even reunited with his beloved, but when a person with whom you've developed a deep bond leaves you, it invariably leaves a void in your soul and a bitter taste in your mouth.
    What now? I looked around in search of an exit from the gorge... and realized what an idiot I was. This was a game! Somehow the latest events had blurred the lines between virtual and true reality. Then again, this was now my world, and it operated by the game's rules. Case in point, the rotting carcass of a level 473 monster lying in a lake of slime fifty yards away, reeking like a dozen decaying elephants and likely containing a small fortune.
    Fighting back nausea and shuddering with disgust over the bluish slush oozing into my boots, I waded through to the carcass and touched it. They say that in every player sits a hamster that squeals with delight at the sight of good loot. Well, if that's true, then my hamster's squeal at that moment was like the roar of King Kong after something massive had fallen square in his nether regions. Sixteen pieces of equipment of rare quality and above, around fifty variegated vials, a piece of fabric inscribed with strange glyphs and several burnt-through holes, a plain oval-shaped hand mirror with a handle twice the size of my palm, and over nine thousand gold. With zero strength left to rejoice, I shrugged wearily and mentally pressed the Take All button. At that very moment, my rear end plopped right into the abominable ooze to the shrill ringing of coins exchanging ownership.
     
    Warning! Your character is 147/12 overloaded and cannot move. Get rid of the excess weight to resume movement.
     
    Fat chance!
    The worst item on that list was worth at least five thousand bucks! For a moment I even forgot about the stinking, disgusting puddle in which I sat. I opened up the stat menu. One point in strength extended carrying capacity by five pounds. In a regal motion, I threw 94 points into strength and another 10 into stamina, seeing as I'd need to do something about heavy armor anyway. My burden suddenly light as a feather, I rose and headed toward a small spring I'd spotted earlier trickling out of a nearby mountain. I washed off the filth and the caked blood—yet another new element. It used to be that your clothes never got soiled or even wet (you could wade through a swamp and still come out perfectly dry); similarly, blood never flowed and certainly never crusted. At least I'm not cold, I thought to myself, wringing out my rags. I could finally head back to the village and catch a breath. The rabid pace and nerve-racking nature of recent events had taken their toll. Besides, I needed to mull over the catastrophic changes that had taken place in my life.
    "Oh, damn!" I smacked my forehead, then started toward the archmage's bones and collected his remains into my bag. All that was left of the once mighty