Announcements - 2004/06 - Clockwork and Chaos
Original Link (now dead) - http://ac2.turbinegames.com/index.php?page_id=237
June Teaser: Clockwork & Chaos
he knight was old, old. He couldn't remember his name, or the day he'd first taken up arms, or the face of the first king he'd served in battle. Though his breastplate was scarred with a hundred dents and gouges, he couldn't dredge up a heroic tale to fit any of them. The deep rust that infested his armor, despite his best efforts to keep it oiled, was the best hint he had as to his true age.
And he was proud of that age. Absent any other evidence, he took it as proof of a valiant and successful career. Still, he blamed himself for the rust. To the knight, it signified the slower corrosion inside him: his dragging steps, his slackening reflexes, his inability to recall the past. Surely these things resulted from an inadequate devotion to duty. After today's patrol, he resolved to attack the rust twice as hard as usual.
For now, he must remain focused on his mission. As he strode through the dark corridors, the knight peered left and right into debris-strewn rooms and collapsed vaults, searching for any sign of movement. At these depths, any living thing he encountered would be a deadly enemy. The king's people dwelt much nearer the surface, where the king's magic kept them safe. Only the bravest knights were sent to patrol these furthest reaches of the king's domain. At least, that's what he'd been told.
He wished he'd remembered to ask exactly what he was patrolling for, but he assumed he'd know it when he found it.
The knight halted briefly to consult his sense of direction. He stood in a broad gallery decorated with empty, worm-eaten wooden frames, their canvases long since mingled with the dust at his feet. At regular intervals, doorways branched into the endless darkness. The knight wasn't certain which ones led deeper, and which led towards the surface, but he supposed they all needed patrolling just the same. On a whim, the knight summoned his loudest voice and boomed out: "Who goes there?" Nobody answered, but he felt better for having made the effort. In fact, he felt so pleasantly useful that he shouted it again, slower and louder: "Who...goes...there?"
And froze, suddenly alert. There was a tiny rustling noise in the air, like dry leaves in a breeze. This excited the knight for reasons he could not recall. Gripping his greatsword with suppressed eagerness, he turned slowly left, then right, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound. At first it seemed to be coming from the great cracked arch at the end of the hall. Then it seemed to be coming from behind him instead. And then it seemed to be seeping up from the ground itself, no longer a rustling but a chittering, clattering flood of sound....
"Submit or die!" the knight yelled joyfully as a score of Olthoi burst into the gallery from every direction. He was so thrilled by this development that he forgot to fight back for a moment. Lightning-fast strikes from their talons rained upon his armor and staggered him, but in the next moment he swung the greatsword in a vast arc, cleaving half a dozen of the vermin in two. After a moment's hesitation, the insects surged forward again; the old knight's sword hacked savagely downward, and chitinous limbs flew in several directions.
The knight laughed to himself as the remaining Olthoi backed off, clacking and hissing angrily while reinforcements from below swelled their ranks. Let them come! His armor might be rusted, but his blade was sharp enough, and his heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of purpose. This was a knight's real business after all--not endless marching and peering and shouting, but mortal combat against an implacable horde!
He couldn't remember when he'd had so much fun.
"Careful...careful, now! Nothing can be replaced!" Lord Sigurd cautioned the apprentices who were hauling his trunks onto the deck of the Shaper's Quest. A few of the youngest children shot him dirty looks, but the older boys and girls knew the value of the relics they were manhandling onto the ship, and they merely tightened their grips. They had been through this routine many times before.
Albert, Lord Sigurd's Prime Engineer, was waving at him from the aft deck of the Quest. He looked worried, but that was Albert; on Launching Days he never rested until the Quest's boilers had been fired and the mighty ship was underway. Sigurd hitched up his robes and made his way across the cluttered deck, stepping over gleaming tools, heaps of iron and silver ingots, stacks of rich fabric, and the other treasures of the Brotherhood which had not yet been stowed below.
"Ho, Albert! What news?" Sigurd greeted his old friend.
The Prime Engineer twirled his grey-shot mustache and scowled. "All bad, I'm afraid. You know as well as I that we'll never get the starboard boiler to hold steam again. We were lucky she didn't tear the ship apart when she blew."
Of course, it hadn't been luck, but sacrifice that had saved them. A lowly apprentice had discovered the overheating boiler during their last voyage. Unable to budge the ancient emergency valve, he resorted to "opening" it with a sledgehammer. That rash action had probably saved the ship, but the apprentice was parboiled by the resulting blast. Mercifully, he died before nightfall.
"And the port engine?"
"Always was a heap of junk, still is," Albert sighed. "We've cast three different spells of warding, reinforced the tanks with dramastic plates, even forged a new piston rod, but the fact is that we're not really able to match Empyrean workmanship. And then there are the magical components--those are an utter mystery. If we only had a few more weeks to shore her up..." he began wistfully.
Sigurd shook his head impatiently. This, too, was part of Albert's Launching Day speech. "You know the law, Albert," he admonished. "We stay until one of the scouts spies an Olthoi. Three days later we leave. Anyone left ashore stays ashore."
"But it was just a grub!" Albert complained. "Hardly bigger than my foot. And there's been no sign of the bugs since. Why, it was probably lost, or dying..."
"Three days, and not a minute longer," repeated Lord Sigurd. He motioned towards the western sky, where the setting sun cast a sullen red glow against the gleaming stacks and polished decks of the Quest. "And the last day is almost gone, Albert. Tell the bo'sun that nobody else may leave the ship. And fire the port boiler--if she'll not hold pressure, we'd best learn that now. I'm going to shut down the Sanctuary."
"Aye, sir," Albert sighed. Privately, he wondered whether the last boiler would hold steam, or whether they'd end up rowing to their next home. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to regret their departure. There was something unsettling about the ruins they'd spent the last year exploring and cataloguing... something worse than the usual sadness of such places.
"Careful, Sigurd!" the old engineer called out. "May the hammer and tongs guide you!" But the Lord of the Brotherhood didn't hear as he made his way across the rickety causeway towards shore.
Sighing, Albert set aside his concerns; there was still plenty to be done before the Quest sailed. He collared a young apprentice who seemed at a loss for work. "Go find Ludward, would you? We'll be getting underway soon, and I want him on hand to deal with any mechanical problems that crop up."
And we don't need that brilliant old idiot running off again, either...
Everything was empty and desolate. Nothing remained in the once-busy chambers except for dust and rubbish. Even the great central hall where the Brotherhood had erected its forge was once again bare, with only the blackened chimney-shaft marking where it had stood. Only a few battered lanterns were left behind, and these burned dim and low. Every time the Brotherhood left a landing site, the ruins always felt this way to Sigurd--abandoned and resentful. It was like a second death for these places that had lain empty for so long.
"Is anyone here?" he occasionally shouted down the halls, but of course, there was no response. Everyone knew that when the Quest sailed, she would never return; most of Sigurd's people had stuck close to the ship since dawn. Finally satisfied that the camp was abandoned, Sigurd steeled himself to collect the last and greatest treasure of the Brotherhood--the Sanctuary.
The descent to the Sanctuary's resting place took several minutes. As Sigurd picked his way down the treacherous, crumbling staircases, he braced himself to withstand the thing's pulsing rhythm. It wasn't something you could hear, exactly--it was something you felt in your chest, like a second heartbeat. Soon you found yourself walking, breathing, even thinking in time with the magical pulse. The effect was strongly hypnotic to lesser minds. To the Olthoi, it was a fatal poison.
The old Prime Mystic, who had passed away shortly before the Quest's last voyage, had explained the Sanctuary to Sigurd thus:
"It's part machine, part magic talisman. Long ago, when their race was near extinction, the Tumeroks discovered that certain drumbeats drove the Olthoi insane. That discovery saved their people. But the Olthoi are as adaptable as any insects, and they learned to ignore simple drumbeats. The Sanctuary, though, projects similar rhythms into nearby portalspace. It's ten times worse to the bugs than mere drumming--it rips their minds apart. But they adapt. They evolve. If you ever see an Olthoi within ten miles of your camp, it means they've learned to block out the Sanctuary's pulse. Then you must flee or perish."
And that was how the Brotherhood survived. For generations they had roamed the vast mainlands of Auberean, sifting through the ashes of Empyrean magic and technology. They had recovered countless priceless artifacts, and Sigurd suspected they had surpassed the ancients in the forging of weapons and armor. But they were still unable to fathom the mighty engines of the Shaper's Quest, the strange self-propelled ship found by Sigurd's great-great-grandfather. That chance discovery freed the Brotherhood from the dangers of the mainlands, transforming them from desperate nomads into scholars and kings.
When the Quest's last engine died, what would become of the Brotherhood? Would they eternally flee the Olthoi on foot, nomads once more? Or, worse, what if the Sanctuary itself should fail? They could never make landfall again, for as every child knew, there was no place on Auberean that was free of the Olthoi scourge. Nor could men survive on sea biscuits and caught fish alone. Scurvy was a bitter way to die.
Finally, Lord Sigurd reached the vault where he'd secreted the Sanctuary six months before. He fumbled at the keys on his belt, feeling a growing sense of unease. There was something wrong, he knew it. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
And then he had it. He still hadn't felt the pulse of the Sanctuary.
Instantly, he whipped out the correct key and fitted it into the lock--which turned out not to be locked after all. The vault door swung easily on its hinges, and Lord Sigurd saw two things that struck absolute terror into his heart.
A sheepish old scholar stood next to the Sanctuary's pedestal, looking both embarrassed and strangely proud.
And there was the Sanctuary--disassembled, shattered, broken. The intricate silver webbing that had once suspended the resonating crystal was hopelessly tangled; the Deruwood frame was in several pieces; the crystal itself was nowhere to be seen.
"What...have...you...done?" Sigurd screamed as he advanced on the hapless inventor.
Ludward's face glowed with happiness. "I've succeeded beyond our wildest dreams, Lord Sigurd! We'll never have to worry about Olthoi again! I borrowed the Sanctuary's crystal, and it turned out to be just the power source I needed...."
"To the Abyss with that, Ludward! We'll talk about your toys later! How long ago did you destroy the Sanctuary?"
"Destroy?" Ludward sounded offended. "I hardly destroyed it, Sigurd. I experimented with it." Noticing the rage in Sigurd's eyes, he added hastily, "Although I suppose I started experimenting with it, say, two weeks ago?"
"Two weeks? If you can't experiment it back together before the Quest's stores run out, I'll feed you to the sharks." Seeing Ludward's dismay, Sigurd choked back any further criticism. "Gather up the pieces and let's be gone. Two weeks! We'll be lucky to make it to the ship."
"Oh... yes... the pieces. It's funny you should mention that. I mean, most of the pieces are right here." He gestured at the twisted mess on the pedestal. "But that crystal I borrowed..."
He seemed about to say more, but Sigurd held up a warning hand and Ludward fell silent. The Lord of the Brotherhood listened to the silence intently for a moment. Then he drew his longsword, a fine weapon, forged and enchanted by his own hand. He doubted it would be good for much.
Ludward cleared his throat. "You see, we'll have to go downstairs to find the crystal, but..."
"It's too late, Ludward. The Olthoi are here." As if on cue, a hollow hissing noise began to seep into the room. Sigurd made a couple of practice passes with his sword, then savagely swept the worthless remnants of the Sanctuary onto the floor. The old scholar started to protest.
"No, Ludward. You'll never fix it now. And wherever you left the crystal, that's where it stays. We're getting out of here."
"But, my Lord," Ludward began, "if you'll only listen..."
"On the count of three, I'm going to open this door. Then we're both going to start running. We're not going to stop until we reach the Shaper's Quest. If one of us falls, the other keeps on running. Do you understand?"
"But, Lord!"
"One...two..."
As he lay dying, Sigurd decided that his plan would have worked if he'd taken his own advice.
When he'd opened the vault door, he'd found himself face-to-face with a fully grown Olthoi worker--a deadly opponent for three strong warriors, let alone two old men with one magical sword between them. The Olthoi seemed as surprised as Sigurd when Sigurd's first thrust slipped between its chitinous plates, piercing a vital organ and killing the creature instantly. Sigurd hadn't even realized that Olthoi had vital organs. Well, that was Brotherhood weaponry for you.
Then Ludward and Sigurd ran for their lives, their robes flapping madly behind them. At first, it seemed they would easily escape the catacombs. They encountered a few grubs and one buzzing nymph, but Sigurd dispatched these immature foes with confidence. And then, curse his worthless hide, Ludward had stopped in his tracks!
"Wait... did you hear a voice? Yes! It's him! Stay here--I'll get you your crystal back!"
And Ludward had torn off down the staircase like a madman, which, Sigurd reflected, he most certainly was. That was when Sigurd should have returned to the ship. But the lure of the crystal was strong--with it, perhaps they could build a new Sanctuary. And he simply hadn't wanted to leave his old friend behind.
When he'd caught up with Ludward in an abandoned storeroom, the scholar was backed into a corner, shrieking helplessly at a menacing trio of workers. Sigurd's berserk attack swept the head off one Olthoi's carapace and mortally wounded a second before it could react. But the third was too fast for his blade to parry, and one of its razor-sharp legs pierced Sigurd's abdomen from front to back. It was his death blow, and Sigurd knew it.
But somehow, Sigurd never figured out how, Ludward had leapt onto the creature's back and throttled it with his bare hands. With his bare hands! He held on as the Olthoi lurched about, screaming and pounding on the thing's carapace and digging his fingers into the cracks, and finally the bug fell over and stopped moving. It was the most ridiculous thing Sigurd had ever seen, and a fine story if anyone survived to tell it.
Regaining his feet, Ludward cried out, "Stay here! I'll bring help!" And then he'd vanished again.
Sigurd's vision was dimming. He couldn't have much longer to live. But when a great Olthoi noble loomed up in the doorway, easily twice the size of any vermin he'd encountered so far, Sigurd gripped the hilt of his longsword with glad determination. Here was a worthy opponent to give him a clean death. He staggered to his feet, clasping one hand to his bleeding side and waving his blade with the other.
"Looking for a snack? Say, what do you Olthoi eat, anyway? Seems like you must've killed everything that isn't an Olthoi by now. Myself not excepted." The creature chittered with surprise, then took a decisive step towards the dying man.
"That's right... come a little closer. Do you have a mind of your own? Or are you just part of your Queen, like a bone or a fingernail?" Dizzily, Sigurd tensed himself for his final leap.
Sigurd had always expected death to be strange and surprising. His father had once told him, "Death comes to men in strange guises," and Sigurd had believed it. But he'd never imagined that Death would burst into the room as a rust-clad mechanical giant. He'd also never expected Death to shout, "Hail! Submit or die! Long live the king! Victory and honor!" And he was completely taken aback when Death plunged his massive greatsword (wasn't it supposed to be a scythe?) deep into the confused Olthoi noble, which promptly quivered and died. Sigurd smiled gently as Ludward slid down from Death's back and rushed to his side.
"So, Death found you too? Kind of unconventional, isn't he? Maybe if you spend your life working with machines, a machine takes you when the time comes... it's rather appropriate, really..." Sigurd swayed, then collapsed into his friend's arms.
"So you destroyed the Sanctuary and risked all our lives to build a Gear Knight?"
"Well, I could never build one from scratch. Not by myself. But I found an old hulk on the lower levels and thought to myself, 'Ludward, there's the solution to all our problems.' An army of Gear Knights! It worked for our ancestors..."
"Who were all killed or driven off, I'd like to remind you."
"As I said, it worked for our ancestors, and it'll work for us. Gear Knights aren't even Empyrean technology--they're pretty simple compared to the Quest, for instance. It's too bad you wouldn't let my first success set foot on the ship. He saved your life, you know."
"A seagoing vessel is no place for a senile half-ton killing machine, Ludward. Not even one with a sense of chivalry."
"It's no matter. I'm sure I can build another. Why, maybe I can even teach them to build themselves! They'll soon scour Auberean clean of Olthoi, you wait and see."
Alarmed, Sigurd propped himself up painfully on one elbow. The swaying motion of the Shaper's Quest made him faintly ill, and his wound still hurt like the devil.
"Building themselves, eh? It's quite an idea, but.... You won't do anything rash, will you, Ludward?"
"Of course not," Ludward soothed the Lord of the Brotherhood. "Just a couple of experiments, that's all."
From belowdecks, a crash resounded through the ship, followed by a rusty voice bellowing, "What ho! Who goes there! Avaunt ye, scoundrel! Where's my armor?"
Sigurd raised an eyebrow at Ludward. Ludward grinned weakly. "You did say set foot on the ship, my lord..."
"You kept the head?"
Rollout Notes
Original Link (now dead) - http://ac2.turbinegames.com/index.php?page_id=238
June Guide
The Shapers have returned...
It all began during a violent nighttime storm off the eastern coast of Osteth. The locals were startled from their sleep by three mighty horn-blasts from offshore. Most huddled fearfully in their beds, but a few brave souls ventured into the driving rain and down to the beach. When the lightning flashed, they witnessed an incredible sight -- a massive iron-clad ship, foundering on a distant reef! Faint cries of alarm could be heard, but the folk of Cavendo had no way to aid the distressed mariners.
When dawn broke, the iron ship was nowhere to be seen. However, a group of Human craftsmen had made landfall in four heavily-laden longboats. Their leader, who called himself Lord Sigurd, described his people as the Brotherhood of Shapers. He explained that they had long wandered the Olthoi-infested mainlands of Auberean, seeking the crafting and forging secrets of the ancients. But they had been forced to abandon their great steam-driven vessel, and now Lord Sigurd hoped to forge a new destiny by sharing the Brotherhood's ways with the people of Dereth.
It quickly became apparent that the Brotherhood's arms were vastly superior to anything forged since the Golden Age. Crafters of every stripe flocked to Cavendo to learn these potent new secrets. Even now, the mighty forges of Dereth are burning hot as cunning smiths forge blades of power. But whose blood is destined to quench those blades?
NEW CONTENT
- Do you know how fast you were PK’ing back there?
- John Cameron, an artist who worked on AC2 during its development, recently passed away. In memory of John, Officer Cameron may now be spotted on patrol in Dereth.
SYSTEM CHANGES
Crafting
- The long-awaited Crafting 2.0 is here! Please see the Crafting 2.0 Rollout article for more information.
SKILL CHANGES
- The Lugian Elementalist Hero Pet "Sand Goliath" was not executing its “Root” ability. This has been fixed.
- The Lugian Berserker skill "Intimidate” was calculating accuracy incorrectly. Fixed.
ITEM CHANGES
- The maximum gold value on all level 50+ loot items has been reduced to keep gold income in-line with gold costs in the new craft system
CONTENT CHANGES
- The reward for the Mucor Mushroom Hunt Quest has been increased from 6,000 XP to 60,000 XP, and the retry timer has been increased to 46 hours.
- The number of creatures loitering around Elder Mines has been reduced
- Guiding Mechanisms will now re-spawn 2 hours after being killed
- Spawn issues with the Chaos Eidolon quest have been addressed, and the quest should now be more stable
MISCELLANEOUS CHANGES & FIXES
- Shadow creatures will cease and desist casting Oubliette
- The contents of Bloodstone vials is now red
- The visual effect for the Human Alchemist skill “Everlasting Fire” was lasting too long and has been reduced to 60 seconds. The skill itself has not been altered.
- The visual effect for the Lugian Juggernaut skill “Decapitate” been reduced to 5 seconds. The skill itself has not been altered.
- The /love emote is now persistent
- The “Friends” drop-down box has been cleaned up – the non-functional scrollbar was removed, and the drop-down arrow has been fixed.
- The Seeker Faisi Sclavus (part of the Lord Eeruk's Treasury Quest) were accidentally removed from the landscape. They may now be found, in the Southern Tou-Tou area.
