by Ed White
Y/N
“No!”
Shasti’s face falls. “Oh, I will leave you to your bath. I am sorry for disturbing you.”
I throw up my hands. “No, no, I was reacting to my user interface. I’m the one, I apologize.”
Shasti smiles, raising her hand and a rough cloth, a pearl white bar of soap in the other. Oh my. Perhaps I’m in for a happy ending.
Removing my shirt, I step over the low, two-foot high side and into the warm, refreshing water. “Oh man.”
Settling into the tub, the warmth of the water surrounds and calms my body. Back and neck muscles release, even my fingers loosen, and I sigh. Opening my eyes, Shasti fills my vision. Her breasts, caramel hemispheres, sway suspended and full, her nipples pointed at opposing angles toward my own shoulders. She dips the soap and scrubbing cloth into the water.
“May I wash your feet and legs?”
She takes hold of my ankle as I raise my leg. With a strong series of motions, she works at my heel while supporting my leg at the calf. Working my foot and each toe, the sense of relief floods through me again and again. My heels itch but she drives her thumb into the first, then the second, having finished with my first foot.
“Will you stand?”
I do and she works up my calves and thighs. My already hardening willy and tight sack cause me a fleeting touch of awkwardness. “You think too much,” I mutter, adjusting my junk. “She’s an NPC.”
“I’m not an NPC.”
“You’re a PC?” My hand closes over my crotch.
She frowns. “Yes, I work here.”
“Like a cam girl?” I step out of the tub before I fall over.
Rage flashes across her face. “Cam girl? What do you mean by that?”
“You choose to work here instead of adventuring?”
“I get paid. This supports me just fine. Ain’t no cam girl. No one sees the real me. You think this is all some porn thing?”
Well, I just put my foot in my mouth, no happy ending for me. “No! Who said anything about porn?”
There was that security setting about streaming.
She shifts her head side to side, rocking her neck with vicious attitude, her finger raised. “Don’t be tryin’ to judge me.”
Man, I just wanted to wash away the grime and tension from the day. The water is so close, yet Shasti blocks my path, her arms crossed, pressing her breasts together. Best to try again later and bathe by myself as intended.
As I turn to leave, pulling my night shirt back on and over my relaxed manhood, Shasti huffs. “That’s right, you better be going.”
***
Returning to my room, I pull the shirt off over my head, kicking the door closed. My shirt comes away from my face revealing another woman dressed in open shirt and thin dress. Her hands on each hip, a thigh exposed from the split in the skirt, she darts her eyes back to mine, after a proper appraisal of my business.
“Mr. Grey.”
Really? The Conglomerate decides to reach out now? I hold the shirt over my junk. Is she here about Remy joining the group?
“Miss Beechum?”
Her hand up, Julia shushes me. “Lower your voice.”
“I don’t recognize yours.”
“Of course not.” She shakes her head in irritation.
“But Jonesy sounds the same.”
“With the choice to mod your character, there’s no reason to keep your own voice. In fact, it is a distinct choice to replicate your voice.”
“So you’ve created an avatar to walk around in disguise? I still don’t understand why you don’t use, well hijack, an NPC. Come to think of it, the bath was a logical place to meet in private. Did Shasti interrupt your plans?”
Her eyebrow arches. “You want me to bathe you?”
“What? No! Why don’t you use my imp as my contact person? That makes the most sense.”
“I’ve already answered this question.”
“It still makes the most sense.”
She crosses her arms. “I’m a businesswoman, Mr Grey, I’m not here to follow you around, I’ve work to attend to, staff to oversee. We’re all on a clock, people’s lives are at risk.”
Waving her to the door, I open it. “Right. Fine. People’s death on my shoulders, maybe if you’d made contact sooner. Seems to me we’d all find the hackers faster if you worked side-by-side with me. I’m going to sleep for the first time in-game. Is there anything that will help me tomorrow?”
Pointing out my nudity, Julia smirks. “Bathing and sleep are necessary and recommended. You need to recover and maintain HP. You can…”
Throwing my hand up, palm to Julia, I shake my head. “Later. If you’ve no leads for me, any missions about possible hackers, or sightings of the Scythes, then I don’t have the energy for this. Time to build my constitution on the next lot of grinding.”
My unintentional joke falls flat. Julia pulls her blouse closed over her avatar’s white chest, momentarily showing a pink nipple in the folding of the cloth. “Report in. I will be waiting.”
“Fine. I suppose that’s a ‘no’ to giving us any leads? Jonesy’s group, I mean my group, and I are going to a grinding area tomorrow. I don’t see how we’ll just stumble on hackers, but whatever floats your boat. I decided to start at the site of the game instance. Ask around the area, gain knowledge. Feel out the area like a salesman does a market. Anyway, good night. Please, get out, or return the player to that body…whatever.”
She points. “We’ll be watching.”
The bed calls to me as Julia closes the door behind me. Did she hijack a player’s avatar? It’s highly unlikely Julia plays in the game, and not worth figuring out if she does.
Time to sleep.
Sleep: bonus to HP
Restore your health with a night’s rest. Restoring health is essential after a hard day’s adventuring.
How the hell does that work if you don’t log off? Does the game create dreams? Do you sleep? Despite what Jonesy says, this is like an acid trip, all these possibilities.
Tossing my shirt on the small table, I fall on the bed. The release of pressure on my shoulders, hips, and heels is great, but I’m uncomfortable from the sweat and grime. Shasti must have left the bath by now. I’ll go back in a little while. Just a few minutes or so.
***
Sun streams onto my face and arm. The warmth is pleasant, but the light is not welcome. Anxiety clutches at my chest and twists my stomach. Sweat trickles down my back, my legs feel numb. I’m in the United Nations D.P.I. boardroom again.
Shit, where’s that murderous, Scottish-looking giant? Too late, I see him, a flutter of movement and he’s on me, as if he’d crossed the room in seconds, stuttered like a horror movie, his huge pale hands clutched around my throat, choking the life out of me. My head gets rung like a bell against the floor-to-ceiling window. My vision tunneling, the last thing I see is a man dressed in a similar uniform to him yelling and struggling to pull off the red-haired fucker.
Crashing onto the floor, I’m sucking air in with desperate gulps, clawing my throat before I realize the nightmare is over. Sun does indeed, stream in on me. I’ve slept through the entire night and I’m lying on the floor of my rented room in the Wilds Edge.
“Ready to learn, lad? Ready to fight? Ready to level up? The Realms await.”
Ex. The damned imp stands in the middle of the room, waiting.
“Watching me sleep?”
“Watching you scream and cry out like a child. Told you, lad, I always have my watchful eye on you.”
I think about yesterday in the bath. Creepy. I look down.
Ex continues talking. “You didn’t do much modifications, did you? No worries, still time for that by level six.”
I grab the night shirt off the table. “I’m going to take that bath some damned game designer decided to make a necessity.”
Easing into the hallway, with no one in sight, I head to the bath. The room is darker with the sun on the opposite side of the bui
lding. Inside the small alcove, I find rough cloths, sponges, and soap, along with a number of oils. I might use a touch of oil on me and in my hair afterwards. With Lisa in the group, and deodorant non-existent, some aspects of Lenscape are too realistic. Trolls, orcs, barbarians, besides Granger’s warrior, I’d not seen any, but I’m just saying—more than a few rank smells down in the tavern.
Settling into the marble tub my frustration with Julia falls away. I believe there’s a way to learn about the hackers. I’m to report any bugs, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got to see them first hand, at least until I’ve a chance to investigate. Downstairs, in the tavern, dozens come seeking food, drink and companionship. Mercenary companies, adventurers, and thieves brag and boast about their questing and gossip about other players. And they complain. The taverns act like chat rooms, in addition to party chats and open forums. I need only tap in and turn my ear to the tales told. But first, I’m going to lay here and chill.
Chapter Twelve
It turns out a relaxing bath helps to replenish HP equal to your constitution modifier. Not much, but good to know, after a harsh battle, we can all take a spa day. For real, I’m down with that, who’s fronting?
Breakfast restores health too and I’m ready for it, stomach rumbling, mouthwatering. Rich aromas waft up the stairs, drawing the morning risers to the tavern hall.
By damn, they’ve got bacon.
The tavern’s already bustling with hungry travelers chowing down on meats, eggs, ale and warm wine. As I join the group, Lisa’s absence strikes me. Disappointed, I fill two plates from the breakfast spread loaded on our corner table, which is clearly Jonesy’s table booth.
Jonesy grins. “Morning, Dave. Looking for Lisa?”
Shasti shoots me the stink eye, as I wave Jonesy off. “I’m looking for bacon.”
“Sure you are.” Jonesy laughs.
Eyeing my plate, I take up a piece of thick, brown bacon, the fat translucent and glistening with grease. Oh yeah. But does it taste right?
Hell. Yes.
Endurance and constitution increases after a hearty meal. Dig in.
Plating two toasted hunks of bread topped with spiced oil, I layer them with bacon and deep yellow scrambled egg. “Where’s Remy? Did he log out last night?”
Kona speaks up, sitting across the table to my left. “Said he has morning prayers. In or out of the game his faith comes first I guess.”
Sipping from a mug of ale, I slap Jonesy’s arm to draw his attention from his lady friends. “You’ve been here in the tavern a while.”
Jonesy winks at the woman to his left. “I have.”
“No, man. Down here in the tavern. So you must’ve heard things, rumors, people complaining about other players breaking the rules?” I shift my eyes from Jonesy to Shasti and back. Maybe she’s heard something, but she frowns at me with disgust.
Jonesy rolls a slice of fried ham around strips of bacon and scrambled egg. “Yeah, heard people talk of this place out in the Fell Lands, in the Temples of the Gryphons. No one’s got a team large and experienced enough here in noob land. So the loot and XP is there for the taking.”
Leaning forward, lowering my voice, I grip his wrist as Jonesy’s about to sink his teeth into the meat roll. “I meant, and I said, hackers.”
“Dave, you are all business and no play. We’re in a game. It’s okay to play.”
“Anyone with sudden, unexplained upgrades and abilities.”
“Oh, you mean like my old crew.”
We don’t actually know who or what the Scythe Warriors really are, but Jonesy is adamant, vainly obsessed with his idea of the vengeful former gamers soured by his “abandoning” them. I don’t know the details of how he fell out with his “crew”, but whatever the Scythes may be, we need to locate them and any possible hackers.
A gentle touch on my shoulder and I release Jonesy’s wrist. He eyes me, but quickly glances over my shoulder. Lisa smiles at me, a chair held in her other hand. “May I sit with you?”
Am I blushing? I’m probably blushing. Jonesy slops up more scrambled eggs with his rolled ham, his narrowed eyes lewd. The man-child.
“I wondered where you were.” I rub my cheek and jaw with what I hope looks like a casual swipe.
“You did? I was in the baths. It was amazing. It’s like a spa day. They’ve got to extend that option.” She lowers her voice. “I’ve put that in my report. Kicking ass on quests and evenings at the spa.”
Lisa, naked in a marble tub. I pull at my collar. She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “Haven already looks like a gigantic Greco-Roman paradise, the baths fit right in.
Haven actually looks like a megalithic home of the gods, but out here on the edge of the Wilds, this is the domain of the NPCs, merchants and guilds, the perfect place for gossip.
“Lisa, I’m trying to explain to Jonesy how useful this place is to gather info.”
She smiles. “This place is pretty much a chat room. People tend to use it more than the forums. Party chat is one thing, you know? Privacy for a mercenary company on a quest.”
“Have you heard anything about illegal players, stuff like that?”
“No.” She frowns. “But it’s a good idea. Don’t mind Jo, let’s go find your friend Remy, gear up and discuss it on the way to the Fell Lands.”
“You know about that?”
Lisa laughs.
Jonesy releases an epic belch, dragging his forearm across his mouth. “Yeah, man, while you were cleaning your toes, I told everyone.”
I frown at Lisa, she came after I did. She points at Paul, who must have told her.
Paul, what’s up with that guy anyway? Jonesy and I have known Paul since school but damn if he wasn’t a quiet, quirky weirdo.
“Before we head out, I wanna get my baton socketed with the red crystal we earned. Remy knows an artificer, mind if we stop along the way?”
Jonesy squeezes Shasti and swipes his free hand in front of me. “Bro, I’ve been socketing all night!”
Across the table, Kona rolls her eyes.
Jonesy composes himself. “Nah, cool, be back before we leave. Say about noon? When the sun’s overhead. Check the party chat, I’ll set an alarm, a quest alert. The later you make us, the less time there’ll be to visit the location of the game instance. Don’t waste any of that time talkin’ to people in here.”
Lisa touches my arm. “Mind if I join you guys?”
An image of me giggling like a kid flashes through my mind’s eye. “Sure.” I manage with a deep tone. “Let’s go find Remy.”
Ex steps out from the crowd as Lisa and I make our way to the door. A moment of anxiety flashes through me, and is gone. He grins. “You’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time, lad.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes.
***
We cross the merchant districts of Haven, headed for the guilds and the artificers working within the outlying areas of the Haven. Lisa and I make small talk while Remy guides us. I notice Ex is gone, vanished wherever imps go. I assume he’ll will show when he feels like it’s time to. Or not. We pass the numerous workshops and bustling stalls hawking wares of all sorts, mostly magical and martial. Cheap scrolls and items with enchantments that likely last all of one fight, nothing worth our attention.
Remy talks to the two of us over his shoulder. “You have to be wary of artificers and combiners. A player can augment gear into monstrously overpowered items in the Realms, beyond the ability to properly wield them. In this, some players become champions and tyrants to overcome. PvP incentive. The game is not simply one of bosses but those corrupted by power.”
Lisa is quick to add to that cool point of lore, accompanied by her infectious smile. “The early promotional materials said the pantheons of Earth and other planets originated among the Battle Avatars of this age. Who will rule, gods or men? I guess in the end, the tyrants won? You know, they became the pantheons.”
Remy shrugs. “Maybe.” He raises his finger. “You guys should pi
ck your desired skill tree so you’re ready once you reach level five. It’s of great importance once we acquire our subclass, our vocations, and begin to level up past six.”
Lisa nods in agreement and looks at me. “This isn’t really true for our batons, David, as most of our skills at beginner level are paired with our batons.”
Ex reappears and his reason for doing so is quickly revealed with a lewd wink. “Oh, this one’s a keeper, lad.”
I ignore him. “How much gold did it cost to socket your baton, Remy?”
He looks over his shoulder. “About 500 GP once all was done. It can be double that for a legendary item. I don’t think you need to sweat that.”
“Five hundred’s about all I can manage.”
We continue through the bazaar, following the broad-stoned street, each block of stone the width of the ten-foot-wide street, but four feet across. Megalithic structures, everywhere. Enormous walls of Haven proper, jigsaw stones of interlocking shapes placed together with exquisite precision and no mortar. Blocks weighing hundreds of tons lean away from us and the vast wooden structures rising before them. These, although of incredible size by comparison, reminded me of traditional post and beam structures. Cruck and half-timber buildings of England and Germany, with origins in the period depicted in the game. Cross beams and a massive curved single timber in an arc across the faces of the buildings we passed.
The massive timber supports the rooftops of the buildings, sourced from the enormous trees of the Wilds. With trees easily three times the height of the tallest redwood, I’d marveled at the jungles when I first entered Lenscape—they tickled my love of lost history. All now returned to the earth, what if the world before the Ice Age was like this? Was this a glimpse of Atlantis?
Approaching the shop, its exterior doors covered with plating arranged into intricate patterns, Remy slows and raises his hands. “Now, it goes without saying that he’s a little eccentric, but stand back and let him do his work. We’ll do what we can to get you the best price, Greywaters.”
