The Hunter’s Guide To Monsters

Ninety-five percent realism was, to Krow, unexpectedly less comfortable than before. Suddenly, he could feel the clothes scratching on his healing scars, dirt itch between his fingernails, his hair prickle in irritation due to various debris.

It had been a mistake to go to bed in-game before showering.

Ugh.

He scrubbed the dirt away, the soft brush cleaning even nails and hair, mucky liquid draining into the grooves in the stone floor, thankful there was a bathroom attached to his rented rooms with artificially hot stones to warm the water.

Just one month back on Earth and he was already spoiled.

If Zushkenar didn't have magic and ways to replicate Earth's modern comforts to some degree, Krow mused with some humor, the players who transmigrated would've adapted less easily, wouldn't have embraced their second world with the verve that they did.

Finishing, he cranked off the water, the sluice trickling down to a drip. Maybe he should introduce a showerhead in some way.

He shook his head. "Not currently important."

Building a house was definitely a future plan, though.

The land update was offered at the same time as the craft update.

He pulled down the lever marked 'breezedry' and spread his arms, letting the artificial windstreams take care of the water trickling off his now clean body.

He glanced at his clothes, frowned at the grime that was now more visible, the more pronounced rips.

A downside.

Under 90% realism, the starting clothes only needed a Clothesmend Spell to be eternally usable.

Now it probably also needed AllClean or Purify for maintenance.

"Or an Enchantment."

It was a First Apprentice Enchantment technique though, to learn how to blend a Spell with an object. Making self-cleaning and self-repairing clothes would have to wait until then.

Krow took the Darkfall cape and snapped it, backing away at the dust it shook off. The cloak had taken most of the damage and grime of the fight. He tossed it over a chair.

He shook the starting tunic and trousers the same way and put them on, grimacing. They were the clothing items that had the least wear and tear.

But after a refreshing shower, wearing unwashed clothes was still uncomfortable.

He'd endured similar conditions before, he reminded himself. He turned to the slip-on starting shoes; they were already fraying.

He needed boots, new clothes, and a laundry shop.

After tossing the bedding into a laundry basket, he folded the Darkfall Hooded Cape, tucked it under an arm, left the room.

"Excuse me," he accosted a draculkar carrying a large heap of linens. "Would you tell me where the clothes shop is?"

There should be a tailor somewhere around here, right?

Bad luck if this was one of the villages where people made and mended their own clothes.

The draculkar gave him a once over and grinned sharply, fangs peeking out a bit. "You sorely need it, truly."

Krow gave him a slight smile. Friend, you don't need to be so blunt, okay?

"It's in Rormessk," the draculkar said, nodding at the larger tower beside them "two levels up from us."

"Thank you, don't let me hold you up." Krow leaned over the balcony rail, studying the walkways and stairs.

He'd learned in the Gardens that scouting a path first through the labyrinth of floating and hanging paths the draculkar race seemed to prefer saved a lot of grief later.

The village walkways weren't as confusing as the Gardens though.

Krow found the clothing shop easily. Even with the shop sign almost concealed, as if the tailor was conflicted about actually wanting customers, it was only one of three doors on the level.

The sign was a dusky kind of wood with only the delicately carved word 'Moonlight' to differentiate the shop from a residence.

A tinkle of delicate bells announced his entrance.

He perked an ear for a moment, as the tinkling had a tune. A lullabye he'd heard Gojo sing under his breath sometimes, to the younger ones on bad nights.

An odd choice for a shop.

He glanced around, interested. The shop posed at least a dozen mannequins in various clothing styles.

Only bespoke tailors IRL still used model displays and had physical locations. He'd never been to one, even for his expensive interview suit.

Most clothing stores had 3D online catalogs – easier because a person can just plug in their size measurements for automatic fitting. For custom adjustments and tailoring, take a 360-degree measurement-grid photo and upload to the site.

Krow walked around the displays. Draculkar fashion, it seemed, tended toward infinite non-bright shades of red, blue, grey, and white, with green and cream thrown in here and there.

How many colors can you pair with violet-shaded skin?

He stopped for a moment as the tinkling reached a crescendo, humming along.

"You know the music." The murmured statement had him glancing at the old woman who'd come up, shadowed by one of the flouncier flowery display suits. It looked like it was male clothing too. Gah. At least the colors were pleasing.

"I've haven't heard it in a long time," Krow said.

The nights where he and his group had to huddle for warmth against the chill had been years ago, and most of the people scattered around the continent in various professions by the time he died.

He executed a bow, brief but deep. Draculkar revered their elderly, if he recalled correctly. The old woman had the pale silver stripe in her hair of someone at least in their third century. "I am Ilas Krow. For now, a traveler."

"Janggi bal Nareya. Tailor. Well met, Ilas Krow." The old woman studied him, back straight as a steel rod, a cane in one hand. "You have come for a wardrobe?"

"Just the basics."

She exhaled through the nose, a quick puff of air. It wasn't contempt, but Krow didn't know if it was approval or disapproval. Gojo had huffed his laughter a lot.

Was that normal among draculkar?

Gazzy was right.

Where was the Lore?

Why, when Rep was so important, wasn't there wasn't a manual for interpretation and interaction with the various races? Or at least a lawbook that was part of the introduction materials.

The lack of widespread understanding led to a cultural divide that had been difficult to bridge after the Quake.

"Even a traveler should have more than," she waved down his body disdainfully with a wrinkled hand. "that."

Eh. Disapproval then.

"A traveler might lose things quickly, in many situations," he refuted easily. "It's best to travel light."

"There are other shops for 'the basics'," she pointed out, eyeing the mannequin Krow had been studying, then looking him over, shaking her head.

True, he did not have the complexion for ruffles. Zimmerian Silk Formal Court Dress, said his visual display. Price: ?????

"This was the place I was directed to." He was coming to think it had been a prank. Was the number of ?s the same as the number of zeroes in the price tag?

A steep price for non-armored clothing.

"Ah." A wealth of understanding in that single syllable.

"Hm," Krow agreed. "Do you have anything a little more durable than Zimmerian silk?"

Zimmerian silk was from the spiders of the Zimmerian Canyon in Amvard. The silk could only be harvested in the grey of dawn before actual sunrise, when the spiders were at the most sluggish part of their biocycle.

There were similar spider canyons in Marfall, though smaller. But real Zimmerian silk was a unique silver-green color and could not be dyed – something about the ingredients in the smoke that silk-hunters used to quiet the spiders.

It was a fairly durable textile. Just not enough for combat. For one, the effort involved meant that even the low-quality pieces were expensive. The raw silk was delicate and broke easily, making it difficult to weave without magic.

That, more than anything, convinced him that the woman was a master enchanter.

It wasn't really surprising.

Starting villages were kinder to new players than the towns or cities. And it wasn't unreasonable for a couple of questlines to start with some secret grandmaster or other.

Triggering those questlines, however....that depended on the quick thinking of the player. Classically, players just went to an NPC and asked 'do you need help' or some similar variation. It was a more complex exchange in a VRMMO, with game developers wanting a more lifelike social experience.

Social skills and social links affected gameplay. It was difficult for a solo player to stay in their shell, in Redlands; they had to force themselves to engage.

But really, nothing said that the social links had to be with other players. In fact, social links with NPCs could be just as valuable.

Janggi unexpectedly chuckled at his question, then motioned him to follow, out from the displays into the back room.

What?

He'd have expected her to throw him out. This was obviously a high-end shop. Krow only wanted a few pieces of light armor, and some cheap replacements until someone could mend and clean his starter clothes.

Starting gear was important.

That one thing was common advice in all the newbie forum threads Krow remembered from the first time he signed up for Redlands: 'Keep your starting gear, or regret it at Lvl 50.'

"A basic traveler's wardrobe – not something asked of me often, these days. Let's find what you need, shall we? Seven full outfits and one formal, won't you say?"

Seven?! How was that basic?

It's not like he had more corporate suits than that, but he was also planning to buy armor, alright? Blowing cash on non-armored clothing was a waste.

"Three," he protested. "And no formal."

"You have passed the majority?" She demanded. "Older than twenty-five?"

"I…yes."

"I thought so," she nodded. "Then you need a formal outfit."

"I'll have no use for it."

"That is said by many. Until they come to me crying and panicked, that it is after all needed. Five outfits and the formal."

"Three," he insisted. "No formal."

"Even if you do not plan on settling down, a basic formal outfit will be a boon to meeting people, trading, negotiation. Or how do you convince people, Ilas Krow, that you are trustworthy enough to walk through their lands?"

Shkav. She wasn't going to back down.

"Five," he agreed, mulishly. "Including the formal."

"Agreed," she uttered, just as reluctantly, after a moment when he thought she was going to refuse. "And a non-formal cloak."

"I have enough trouble keeping the damned cape from getting in the way. A cloak would be worse."

Her gaze went to the revolver strapped to his leg with some small disapproval. Draculkar preferred blades, traditionally.

"Something like this, then?" She pushed a rack of shirts aside, to lift a hooded phelonion-style cloak, the short front panels clasped together by three frog closures.

As most of the fabric was behind the shoulders, it was less obstructive than the Darkfall cape.

It was also, unfortunately, brocade, in cream and green.

Tsk.

Still too fancy. But it was an acceptable style.

"Not in that color." Krow looked around at the hung pieces of half-done clothing – brocade, embroidery, lace everywhere. "Something more…usable than these, possibly? Can they be armored?"

She glanced at him out the corner of her eyes, imperious. "Young one, 'durable' does not mean 'plain'. And armor? Are you draculkar or not?"

Weeping graves, this was going to be a fight, wasn't it?

But he didn't leave.

This was likely the only enchanted clothing shop in the village.

A starting village barely had any worthwhile player gear, and there was no way Krow was going on another quest without upgrading his defensive clothing.

"But 'plain' means 'not attracting all the bandits and thieves in visual range to target the lone traveler'. And armor can mean the life of said traveler."

"A lone traveler," she countered, "in these fraught times, is a stupid traveler."

"Fraught?"

Her gaze narrowed, piercing.

"As I have heard, it is the young ones who are calling for change. A prerogative of the younger generation," she lifted her hands, palms up. The draculkar shrug. "Bold, to speak against the Cyzar. The voice of the people often gets muddled as it reaches the highborn courts, however."

A quest prompt?

Cyzar was the title for the draculkar king.

The game was determinedly throwing him toward joining the wars, huh.

"Then possibly the divide between the classes should be breached more often," Krow said disinterestedly. "To encourage a wider viewpoint in all aspects. It has nothing to do with me."

Janggi's golden gaze settled on him for longer than he felt comfortable.

Who came up with these complicated ways to accept or refuse quests? The ancient and classic Y/N notifications were fine, right?

"A strong view, for someone so uninterested." She gently lifted a piece of cloth to let him see.

"I can hold strong opinions and not want to be involved, like I can call this embroidery beautiful and inspired without wanting to place it on my clothes."

Janggi lowered the cloth, with a smile. "Strong opinions are rarely divorced from action. And you will buy that embroidery, as it does suit you."

"Too fancy to be flaunting only before woodland beasts, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." She pulled a cloth sample, gesturing.

"I'm not wearing that bright a blue." Krow rejected it immediately.

"It will go well with a draculkar of Air, don't you think?"

It took Krow a moment to grasp that she was talking about elemental alignment.

"Shadow, actually," he refuted, then in his head immediately kicked himself. Had he been arguing too much with this lady already, that he needed to blurt out his personal info to win?

"Shadow?" She paused, a moment of surprise. "Not a common alignment in our race."

He silently groaned at himself. If this were a battle, which it definitely was, he'd just given her an advantage.

Idiot.

"No?" He had only met ten or so draculkar in his life, and two of them were Shadow aligned. With that sample size, it wasn't common?

She looked pensive at his dubious question, but she put down the light blue cloth and picked up a rust-red and dark silver sample. "Perhaps you are indeed a traveler."

He didn't know what to say to that. What did she think he was then, if she hadn't believed he was a traveler?

"Darker still than those," he gestured instead at the cloth sample.

She sighed disapprovingly, but acceded.

The discussion went easier as she stuck to the darker and duller colors, with minimal light accents. At least he convinced her to keep the embroidery to the same color as the cloth, so the designs weren't immediately evident.

Krow wasn't going to pay the 10,000 drax Enchantment for 1% HP-recovery – which, seriously, that was possible on clothing?! But some added VIT wasn't out of the question.

"You can Enchant cloth with that much Durability?" It was a compromise, as she rejected the armor plates he wanted added to the design. Too bulky and ugly, she said.

"Why not?" Janggi looked offended. "You think only jewels and bones can be Enchanted? That only armor can block attacks?"

The only reason the Darkfall Hooded Cape could block attacks was the thin armor panels on the shoulders, so he thought so, yes. Apparently, Enchanting grandmasters can break game laws.

Technically it was a loophole – Durability wasn't an Armor Enchant, but a General one.

A pity she wouldn't let him help. Under a master like her, he'd have leveled his Enchanting even up to Second Apprentice within a week.

"Stop asking," she finally glowered, "or be banned from the premises!"

She tossed the new cloak at him as he left. He stuffed it in his inventory defiantly.

So with his new clothes on, he dropped the starter clothes at a recommended seamstress to be cleaned and mended. He was on his way to a shoemaker when a yell caught his attention.

"That's him!"

He only glanced briefly at the commotion. There were always thieves around.

"See, he has a gun! Sharpshooter!"

That was…

Krow looked in the direction of the excitement, more wary.

Shkav, why were people looking back. He saw a boy pointing at him and jumping up and down.

That didn't bode well.

He slipped out of the central plaza.

"Wait, mister!"

Unfortunately, draculkar village architecture didn't have alleys. He turned at a stifled giggle.

Velinel waved at him from a large, opened window one level above, hugely amused. "How were the Gardens, great hunter?"

Oh.

This was how the +25 Rep from the hidden quest was spread?

"He went this way!" cried someone from the plaza.

Krow winced and leaped for Velinel's window ledge. "This isn't your house, is it?"

It was too low on the tower for a local residence.

She grinned and stepped back. "Glassmaker workshop."

"Excuse me then." He boosted himself through the window as footsteps rounded the corner of the tower.

"I think he went to the market plaza!"

Krow held still against the wall by the window as Velinel leaned out. "They're gone."

He relaxed. "A little excessive. Doesn't the village have hunters?"

"We do," Velinel snickered. "But it's been…five years, maybe? Since an Armored Mothmarmot was killed with all its pack, and so near the village. A few of the crafters probably set their apprentices on you, for the monster materials."

"Oh." Not so serious then. He relaxed further. "How did they know, anyway?"

Fortunately, 25 Rep was still firmly in the Unknown territory. If he recalled correctly, being Known needed 200 Rep.

"A group of apprentices and prospective apprentices were tending to coppertwist shrubs on the upper walkways. You really dropped a rockpillar on it?"

"I couldn't make it leave me alone," he protested.

"A good thing you herded it away from the village, young one." The unfamiliar voice made him jump, to see an older man seated in a corner, examining shards of glass.

Velinel smiled sweetly. "This is my father, Karyavan bal Iluggei. Glassmaker."

Krow bowed politely, after briefly mock-glaring at Velinel for not warning him. "Sir, I am Ilas Krow."

"The last time an Armored Mothmarmot was so close to the village, half of us fell ill with the poison. The caravans were turned away. A tragedy."

The poison or the caravans?

The man didn't look like he was expecting an answer though, so focused was he on glass. Krow glanced at Velinel, who skipped to sit near her father, picking up pieces of glass herself and sorting them.

Krow's lips quirked. Can that happen with sound-based sensing? Or was it vibration-based?

Equating this cheery girl with the stoneshark that killed him….

It didn't compute.

"Do you still need those ringbell flowers?"

*

**

End Chapter

**

Notes: phelonion-style refers to the liturgical vestments of the eastern orthodox church, where the cloak is chest-height in front and falls to below the knees in the back.