Fantalia Online

by Jason Krew

  The roof? Soph pointed at a tall crate, buzzing with flies. He clasped it, hauled himself atop it. The nearest foe was less than ten feet away. He jumped, fingers clutching at the roof. He hoped his virtual body would pass this strength check. He managed to hook the edge with his right leg, and hauled his chest and stomach onto the ledge. The sound of creaking wood met his ears as the bandits followed. He swung his other leg over and rolled onto the roof proper.

  But there was no time to waste. His stamina bar was low, and it felt like he wore ankle weights as he stepped to the edge of the roof and began to stomp at the pairs of hands trying to haul themselves up after him.

  They cursed and swore, but there were other ways to the rooftop, and they abandoned this one in favor of them. The top of the building was flat, and so were those of its neighbors. In fact, the whole town was fairly uniform. Roger took one last look behind him, jumped the gap to the nearest building and raced off, Soph trailing after him with his claws locked in the fabric of his shirt.

  His stamina bar was depleting rapidly, while the other bandits, with their varying levels nearly double his own, managed a pace that he could not keep. Slowly they drew in on him from all sides. The stamina it took to jump was yet another chunk from his energy pool, and slowly but surely the distance closed.

  He had lost all sense of direction in the chase. He didn't know if he had gotten closer to the outskirts of the village or had merely moved towards its center. Panicked as he was, and with his stamina almost at zero, he couldn't see the brigand close in on his left and drive into him with his shoulder. He lurched to the side, striking at the bandit as he fell. They tumbled between buildings in a tangled heap, and the ground plummeted towards them.

  Chapter VII - Part 1

  The world spun in a sickening circle, then stopped with a jarring halt. Roger was facedown, on top of something not entirely solid. He lifted his head, looked into the glassy, vacant eyes of a dead outlaw. The one who had knocked him off the roof. The man began to fade before his very eyes.

  Coarse barks snapped him back to attention, as the other rogues filtered down from the roof. He stood up, a difficult process with such drained energy, and staggered away. He felt so heavy. He had to rest, and he dropped his hands to his knees. One brigand closed in, hammer scraping the nearest stone wall as he aimed a swing at Roger's head. He managed to lift an arm to guard, and the blow sent him reeling to the ground once more. A red haze pulsed at the corners of his vision.

  Someway, somehow, he managed to twist his head to the side as the glint of a knife point flickered towards him, striking the pavement with an ugly dink. He scrabbled away, panicking, and his back pressed up against a closed door. A woman with a red mask approached, and drew her arm back for the killing blow, sword rusted and jagged like an implement for torture.

  I knew I shouldn't have done this, thought Roger. A small part of him had known this would happen. He felt like he'd been seeking it out from the start. It was like there was a part of him that never wanted anything good to happen. Anger welled up inside him, and he felt himself snarl.

  'I'm not... gonna die... sitting down.' The bandit raised a long, pencil-thin eyebrow at his words.

  You understand me?

  The sword thudded into the door, right where his chest had been. He surged to his feet, energy restored, and put his fist through the womans mask. She fell back, and his fists were a blur as he swung about with his heavy gauntlets. They weren't for show, these gloves. It wasn't simply armor to ward off blows, but a fist weapon with spikes forged into each knuckle. He'd spent all of his money on them for a reason.

  The bandits fell back, and in their strange, almost real eyes, Roger could see surprise. It wasn't just about what level you were. How high your hit points, how well you min-maxed your stats. There was something else to this game. Something oddly human.

  In the small alley they could not bring all their numbers to bear, but Roger was surrounded, and although they fell back from his initial blows, their numbers were too much to overcome. Rather than strike at him with weapons, they grappled him, with one managing to trap his arms behind his back and hold him tight.

  Now it really was over. Roger struggled against his captors, to no avail. It wasn't an actual knife, but the way it caught the light made it seem so, and the edge looked no less sharp than what you would find in his kitchen. The bandit holding it wore a relaxed grin.

  A strangled cry broke out from the back ranks of the bandit mob, and Roger thought he glimpsed a flash of amber light. There was another cry, and all of a sudden a woman was in sight, thrashing about with a sword and shield. There were already several bodies on the ground, in various stages of disappearing.

  'Kill him,' he heard his captor shout, and the once smiling bandit cast a nervous look over his shoulder before lumbering forward to finish the job.

  Chapter VII - Part 2

  Roger was shoved forward and into his would-be killer. They went down in a tangled heap, this time Roger on the bottom. He grabbed each of the man's wrists, but his strength couldn't stop the knife from driving towards his face. The killer's face was furrowed with effort, until suddenly his eyes opened wide as dinner plates, and he collapsed atop Roger, pinning him in place.

  The screams of dying bandits were everywhere, echoing in the narrow strip, but Roger couldn't move until the fellow on top of him began to despawn. When the screams finally stopped, a man with a pair of daggers at his pockets stood over Roger. Mousey brown hair fell over one eye, and he stood there for a moment, hands on his hips. After a second, he held out a hand. Roger took it, and was lurched to his feet. Someone clapped him on his shoulder. It was the woman, her square shield now slung over her back.

  'What were you thinking?' she said. She had a rough voice, as though thirsty from slaying all those bandits. There was the hint of a russian accent.

  'Wh-what?' Roger was still bristling with adrenaline, and his mind was struggling to keep up with the development of events.

  'We've been trying to clear this place for three days, and you just sneak in here like an idiot and stir up the whole town.'

  Three days? Roger found that hard to believe. What quest zone took three days to clear?

  'It doesn't matter,' said a firm voice behind him. The voice had a mature timbre to it, but the man standing before Roger was yet young, perhaps early thirties. 'We ought to thank him,' he looked at his partner, 'for giving us such a good distraction.'

  'I suppose,' said the woman. 'Oxala, by the way.' She gestured at the man, who laid a palm on his chest.

  'Kristofer.'

  'Roger.'

  'Well, Roger,' said Oxala, the slurping noises of pikshene looting reverberating in the background, 'care to tell us what you were doing here?'

  Roger looked from Oxala to Kristofer. They spoke English to him, albeit with different accents, and he considered it lucky that his was decent.

  'I'm on an assassination mission,' he said. He produced the quest note. Rayne Ristretti, bring me his head.

  'We seek the same target,' said Kristofer. 'What on earth made you think you could do it yourself?'

  Roger shrugged. 'I was actually hoping to find someone here to team up with.'

  Oxala laughed then, and it was a heavy booming sound. 'There are better ways to recruit party members than to charge in and hope for the best.'

  'There are?' Roger scratched his head. He hadn't really considered the alternatives.

  'He didn't complete the tutorial,' squeaked Soph, and Roger swatted at him.

  'Really?' Kristofer turned to Oxala, looking genuinely dismayed. 'What an interesting kid.'

  'That's one way to put it.' There was the sound of metal on stone as Oxala leaned her back against the wall. 'So, do you know what a settlement is, kid?' Roger shook his head, and she sighed. 'You're standing in one.'

  'This whole camp?' he said.

  'The whole camp,' said Oxala. 'Settlements are essentially a town.' Kristofer nodded along to her words. 'You ma
y not have noticed, but enemies don't respawn here.'

  This was news to him. 'Then why the hell are there so many bandits?' he said. 'Surely this place would have been cleared by now.'

  'Where have you been?' said Kristofer, shaking his head. 'Or have you just not been paying attention?'

  Roger looked at him with knotted brows, and the adults glanced at eachother.

  'Half the player base has gone chasing after the treasure.' Kristofer was speaking, but his eyes were constantly checking down each end of the narrow alleyway. Roger was already beginning to forget what had just gone down. A moment ago he'd been on the brink of death, now he was having a chat.

  'The treasure?' he said. 'I didn't hear about any treasure. Then again,' he looked down at his hands, doing the math, 'I haven't been online in a few days.'

  'Well that explains it.' Kristofer started off down the alley, and they made to follow him. He paused at the end, took a quick look around. 'There was an announcement in all the villages. I was in Turnville at the time, on the other side of the plains.'

  'I heard it too,' said Oxala. 'Was just about to log out, in fact. Treasure guarded by a powerful monster, on an island in the ocean.'

  Roger felt his excitement growing. What the hell was he doing here then?

  'Why didn't you guys go after it?'

  Kristofer looked at him like he was stupid. 'And contend with ten thousand other players? No thanks.'

  I suppose that's fair. They crossed an empty courtyard. There were discarded bottles, scrap wood and broken weapons lying about.

  'So,' said Oxala, 'we thought we may as well take advantage of the situation.' They slipped into another alleyway. 'We've made a lot of money and experience so far.'

  'So what happens when you clear a settlement?' said Roger.

  'You liberate it.' Kristofer led them along, and Oxala seemed to trust his judgement, and so Roger followed. 'People will move back into a liberated settlement over time, and business will resume as normal.'

  'That's cool, I guess.'

  'Yes,' said Oxala. 'It's quite cool. And you're in luck, because you helped us eradicate a particularly difficult quarter of the town.'

  'Yeah?'

  'And we're getting close to the center.'

  'Oh.' Sopherus had mentioned that Rayne was probably there. But that meant that, 'It's going to be the most dangerous part of the zone, isn't it?'

  'Yeah,' said Kristofer, looking back. 'Once we get there, we'll need to come up with a plan.' He froze, and quickly put his back up against the wall. He looked at the two of them, and held a finger to his lips. 'There's someone there.'

  Chapter VII - Part 3

  'How many?' Oxala hissed back.

  Kristofer looked confused. 'Only one.' He shook his head as Oxala brushed past him.

  'Shit,' she said. 'He's seen us.'

  'Is it an outlaw?' said Roger.

  'He sure looks like one,' said Kristofer. 'Guess we'll find out.'

  'Shhh.' Oxala emerged from the alley. 'Heya, friend.'

  'Ahoy,' said the man. He was heavy-set, with a great dark beard and a skullcap clinging tightly to his head. 'I'm Sinbad.'

  Shake my head, thought Roger. Role playing a little hard there buddy. Oxala introduced the three of them.

  'Well met,' said Sinbad. 'It's good to see another friendly face. You here for the bounty as well?'

  'We are,' said Oxala, visibly relaxing. 'Did you come alone?'

  Sinbad shook his head, looking wistful. 'There were more of us, but we underestimated this place.'

  Oxala nodded. 'We lost someone as well.'

  Roger just stood there, eyes glancing from Oxala to Sinbad, feeling like he was in some kind of poorly acted war movie. We lost people. It was bad.

  'Well, we could use the help.' Oxala gestured towards the town center. 'The resistance is probably going to be pretty heavy there.'

  Sinbad unfurled a map and placed it on the ground, kneeling over it. 'We should devise a strategy.'

  'Wow,' said Oxala. 'You found a map of the town?'

  'Yeah.' Sinbad looked up with a whiskery grin. 'Got it off one of them.' He pointed at a section of the map shaped like a circle. 'This is where Rayne is.' He traced his finger north. 'We came through here, but their numbers forced us this way.' His finger moved as he spoke.

  'I see,' said Kristofer. 'And what makes you so sure Rayne is there.'

  Sinbad nodded his head towards the column of smoke. 'That,' he said. 'It's not just a fire. There's a pattern to it. She's sending out smoke signals.'

  'She?' said Kristofer.

  Sinbad shrugged. 'She, he, whoever it is, they're sending messages to someone.'

  Roger considered his words. 'Does that mean reinforcements are coming?' The three looked at him, and he was made painfully aware of his junior status.

  'That's what I'm thinking,' growled Sinbad. 'We have to move fast.'

  Roger grew nervous, mind filled with the prospect of this place flooded with enemies. Already, this quest had turned out pretty impressive. The ads had mentioned stuff like this. Dynamic questing and world events. Smart AI that adapts to player intervention.

  'I'll scope out the place,' said Kristofer, breaking off Roger's reverie. 'Hold tight.'

  He slipped off into the shadows, and so they waited. Oxala looked concerned, but it was only a few minutes before Kristofer returned. He nodded at Sinbad.

  'You're right. There's some kind of command tent in the middle of the courtyard.'

  'Rayne has to be there.' Sinbad looked at Oxala. 'How do you want to do this?'

  'They will have the numbers advantage,' Oxala replied. She looked at Roger. 'Our friend here showed us the best way to deal with that, however.'

  Roger raised his eyebrows at her, and then it dawned on him. 'You want me to lure them, don't you?'

  'Yes,' said Oxala. 'And crush them again.'

  'I can help with that.' Sinbad produced something from the bag on his hip. Roger had seen something like it not more than a couple of days prior, on Bonfire night.

  'Explosives?' he said, and Sinbad winked at him.

  'All we need is a distraction.'

  They all looked at him, and he shrugged. 'I'll do it.' Oxala clapped him on the back, and he nearly fell over.

  ****

  He once again stood atop the town, back against the broken spire of what looked like some kind of temple. He was so close now that he could hear the bandit chatter below. He could see Sinbad crouched by an overturned stand. It was his signal he was waiting for.

  Time crawled past until finally, Sinbad made his move. He pointed a finger at Roger, then into the clearing. Roger gulped. He stepped out of cover, walked to the edge of the building overlooking the clearing. The tent had a great big skull emblazoned on it, like the jolly roger from a pirate movie, only this skull had a pair of twisted horns sprouting from its forehead. He could see the source of all that black smoke burning away in a corner of the courtyard.

  No one had seen him yet, and so he took in a deep breath, and bellowed across the clearing.

  'OI.'

  A few heads turned towards him, followed by the hiss of drawn steel.

  'Which one of you is Rayne Ristretti?'

  'Piss off,' one of them yelled. He blinked.

  'No.'

  He heard the twang of an arrow, and ducked out of sight. This wasn't going well. He grit his teeth, and revealed the explosive he held in his hand.

  'I'm not leaving without that bounty,' he cried. He sent the firebomb sailing through the air in a smoky arc. Astonished cries were met with an explosion. The firebomb landed in the middle of the tents skeletal visage, shredding it with a thunderous peal.

  This was the part that frightened him, and he cursed his partners for putting him up to it. As nimble as possible, he clambered down the side of the roof and into the alleyway below. An arrow struck the wall next to him.

  He scattered off down the street, pursuers hot on his trail.

  Chapter VII - Part 4<
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  Praying that he was going the right way, he loitered for a moment in order for his pursuers to catch up, and then headed left down a connecting street. They gave chase. He wasn't sure how many or what kind but his ruse hadn't been a complete failure, at least. He turned right, straight into a dead end.

  A series of heavy footsteps pulled up behind him. They watched him back up against the wall, which was a hodgepodge of stacked boxes, odd ends and carriage wheels. With two men standing shoulder to shoulder, they rounded on him with weapons drawn. One of them held a spiked, iron mace, and something in Roger's brain registered it as a very legitimate and painful threat.