Scamps & Scoundrels: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Bad Guys Book 1)

by Eric Ugland

  “Yeah, but that’s fine,” I said. “I just had a chat with some asshole from the Iron Silents. You know of them.”

  He sighed and shook his head.

  “I hope you were nice to them.”

  “I tried to be polite,” I said.

  “Well, shit.”

  “They want this building. Do you know why?”

  “This place? Please don’t sell to them.”

  “I’m not looking to sell to them.”

  “Thank the gods.”

  “How about thanking me? I’m the one not selling.”

  “They’re really quite terrible people.”

  “I’ve heard. Now, is there something special about this place?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “No basement or anything?”

  “Of course there’s a basement. Two of them. Basement and sub-basement.”

  “Nothing special in them?”

  “Beer? Whiskey?”

  “No tunnels or runes or—”

  “Runes? What are you talking about?”

  “Why they might want this particular building.”

  He looked around at all the kegs and crates, then ran his hand along the brick pillar going upstairs.

  “I just don’t know,” he finally said. “I mean, I know what’s in the basement, and there’s no tunnels attached to it, nothing special about it. Just more supplies for the tavern.”

  “And the sub-basement?”

  “It’s mostly empty.”

  “What does mostly mean?”

  “Something's living down there, but other than that, it’s empty.”

  “Uh, Titus, I think you may have glossed over one of the more important aspects of that sentence.”

  The door to the tavern slammed open, and a young woman was standing there.

  “You two finished gossiping?” She yelled.

  “Pipe down, Penelope,” Titus roared back. “Talkin’ to the landlord here.”

  “Oh,” Penelope said, her rage face dropping and immediately replaced with a sweet smile. “It is so very nice to meet you.”

  She dipped into a curtsy, and I smiled back at her. She had a cute nose. Which is weird to say, but after looking at Insidious’s perfectly designed face, something was appealing about the natural formation of a face.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I said. “Clyde Hatchett.”

  “Penelope Calpernus,” she replied. But then she looked back to Titus, face hard, “Bit busy out there, love of my life.”

  “Give me a damn minute more,” Titus snapped back.

  She gave him a look like he was sleeping on the couch and then spun and left.

  “She thinks I don’t know we’re busy?” he asked. “I know we’re busy. I’ve known we were busy all day I’ve been working, what is she doing. Sorry, she’s, it’s, we’re busier now, which is good, but difficult I might need to hire someone to come and help because gods know we could use the help and what were we talking about?”

  “Do you get enough sleep?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “But that wasn’t what we were talking about was it?”

  “Something living in the sub-basement.”

  “Right. Something lives there.”

  “Okay, but what?

  “I don’t know. Why would I know.”

  “What do you mean, how would you not know what’s living in your basement.”

  “Not my basement, your basement.”

  “Okay, but, how do you know there’s emoting in there?”

  “You can hear it moving around.”

  “What if it’s someone trapped down there?”

  “No one answered when I called down.”

  “Did you open the door and call down? Is there a door?”

  “Of course there’s a door, how else would get you down into the sub-basement? Magic up a hole and jump in”

  “Does magic work that way?”

  “Why do you think I know how magic works? I don’t truck with demons like that.”

  “I think demons and magic don’t go together like that.”

  “If you know magic so well, why are you asking if it can make holes. I expect it can, otherwise, not much use in magic, is there?”

  “I don’t know, I didn’t know there was a basement until just now, let alone a mystery creature living in a sub-basement.”

  “I opened the door, the door to the sub-basement because we also have a door to the basement if you’re interested in that bit of structure as well, I looked in the darkness, saw nothing, called out, no response, so I closed the door.”

  “Why didn’t you go down there?”

  “Because I don’t know what’s living there?”

  “It might just be a rat.”

  “Sure, but if a rat’s making the noises I’ve heard, I don’t want to meet that rat.”

  “What about throwing a light or something down there?”

  “Mister Rich Britches may be able to toss glowstones about like they aren’t golds apiece, but I have a family to feed, and up until recently, too high a rent to pay.”

  “This has been a fruitless talk.”

  “Go to the grand market, all the fruit you want.”

  “Ha. I’ll get a glowstone, we’ll look in the basement.”

  “Subbasement.”

  “Sub basement, sure. Where do I get glowstones?”

  “You buy them from the Empire. Empire has the monopoly on glowstones.”

  “Is there an Imperial Store of some kind?”

  “Ha. You’ll find ‘em if you look. I got beer to serve. And when you find it, you can go look in the sub-basement if you want,” Titus said, walking back to the door to the bar, “I’ll have none of it.”

  And then he left.

  I tried to figure out the keg ladder for a minute or two, then gave up, and went around the outside to my apartment.

  26

  I slept like a baby for about two hours. Back in the world, I’d only ever slept four hours at max. As far back as I could remember, that was the extent of my need for sleep. Even as a kid. Drove my parents nuts. But it was pretty helpful for me. I could go to bed at ten and wake up at two and play a solid five hours of video games before I had to go to school. So waking up after two hours was a bit strange, but I felt good. Sore. My busy day of archery after a full night of parkour was definitely going to leave some reminders.

  Notably, no one visited me during my brief respite. I wasn’t expecting the Iron Silents to get back to me that quickly. I had a feeling I’d had the bad cop visit, and I was going to get the good cop visit next. Then the torture and killing.

  I did some stretching, then some parkour practice. And then I got dressed, belted on my weapons, put the massive bundle of arrows onto my back, and headed out into the predawn gloom.

  The city was definitely different than when it was still dark out, but the night had mostly spent itself. I saw almost no one out and about. Sure, there were guards on the walls and near the gates, and they glared at me as I walked by. But otherwise, basically nothing. The occasional cart came by, a wagon. Some folk walking. Everyone kept their heads down, no one spoke. It was almost as if they were afraid to make noise, that something might hear them if they did. A few lights were on in the windows of buildings I passed, and I was near enough the industrial area to listen to a few of the factories coming to life, the roar of forges, the clang of metal on metal, but it was such a marked difference to how the city had been during the day. Plus side, it did make it much easier to get through the streets. I didn’t really have to dodge horses, people, or poop, and I was at outside the Gallifrey Pit when the sun was just barely coloring the skies.

  I stood out there like a tool until Matthew opened the gates as the sun hit them, and then we continued our training. He instructed me a bit on sword work, which was useful because we had to clear all the animals that had made their way out of the pit during the night, keeping them from leaving the pit as well. And once we cleared the ground l
evel, we set up an archery spot again. Matthew did take some more time to instruct me, stopping me every so often to change my stance, pull back to a different point on my body, that sort of thing, and I was improving quickly. Plus, I was getting a smidgen of experience from each and every cymothoa I killed. And even though it wasn’t an enormous amount, it all added up.

  And that’s really how the day went. And the next. I bought a ton of arrows, I shot them into the pit. I killed pit parasites of all different stripes. I fought them with a dagger, with a short sword, and with a bow. Over and over again. Blisters popped and bled. My arms and legs ached. Hell, my whole body ached. I had cuts and bites all over. Matthew never let any of the creatures get close enough to real damage, he was always there to push the little buggers back into the pit, but he didn’t seem to care if they got a nip in.

  Five straight days of this, and I realized I’d thinned out the numbers in the pit down to the point where I actually had to aim carefully to hit the creatures. We spent less and less time killing the ones that had come up overnight. And I started to kill the cymothoa in single hits. I began to hit the soft targets on the otherwise hard bug-like things. I’d sneak arrows between chitin segment, or, on a lucky occasion, right through an eyeball. And I started to feel good about it. I was moving in up in levels and skills, and, finally, I hit my next level.

  Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 5! You receive 2 attribute points to distribute in the next 36 hours, or you lose them. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

  During our lunch, I spoke with Matthew about leveling up, what I needed to look for, what I needed to do.

  “Show me your sheet,” he said.

  “My what?” I asked.

  “Character sheet.”

  I saw that I could share my sheet, and did so, giving access to one Matthew Gallifrey.

  He looked it over, something I could tell because I could see his eyes scanning across like he was reading something. Which, I suppose, he was. He made a few faces then nodded a bit.

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  “Just been a while since I’ve been in the position to advise someone, especially someone like you. Trying to think here.”

  The man pulled at his mustache a time or two.

  “You have a lot of holes here,” he said. “Lots of room for improvement.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” I said. “But what should I be focusing on?”

  “What would you like to be focusing on?”

  “I just asked you that.”

  “And yet they are two different questions. You need to know what you are focusing on in terms of the external. Of why you are tracking along this path. Are you hoping to be a cat burglar? A highwayman? And why are you doing this? All of these questions need an answer if I’m going to give you an answer. But I have a feeling you don’t know those answers. Otherwise, you’d have already told me. So, back to work until you have an answer. And then I can give you your advice.”

  “But I only have 36 hours to use those points?”

  “Better come up with an answer quickly then.”

  27

  On the evening of day six, when I had about twelve hours left to use my points, we killed the last visible parasite. The pit was littered with arrows. And mud.

  Matthew nodded to me, getting off his chair and finishing off his ale.

  “Looks good,” he said, peering into the pit.

  I started packing my things up, heading to the cottage.

  “Not yet,” Matthew said. “There’s still work to be done tonight.”

  I looked up at the sky, the dark sky.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “Just, uh,” I started, not really wanting to admit the fear roiling in my gut, “it’s just about night, and—”

  “And? You are afraid of the darkness?

  “Uh, no.”

  “You’d be a fool not to, at your level.”

  “I feel there’s a but coming along.”

  “It is the night you want to operate within, you cannot live in fear, little-elf boy. Must overpower that emotion.”

  “Sure, why didn’t I think of that? Just overpower the emotion.”

  “Ah, sass. The armor of the young and foolish.”

  “Young and foolish is my stock in trade.”

  “Better sass than fear, I suppose. You ready to get dirty?”

  “I’m guessing we’re going into the pit?”

  “Maybe your points should go into intelligence.”

  “Is that your official advice?”

  “You have an answer for me?”

  “No.”

  “Then, no. Let’s get to work.”

  He grabbed my bag of things, and he carried it into the cottage, then returned with a wooden crate. He opened it up and pulled out what looked like a jumpsuit. Or coveralls. The fabric of the suit was weird. Different.

  “Put this on,” Matthew said.

  “What is it?”

  “Keeps the nasty stuff off.”

  “Is it that nasty?”

  “Vile. Truly vile.”

  “Is this really part of my training?”

  “Maybe.”

  “This better be some Mister Miyagi type thing here,” I said, “otherwise—”

  “Who’s Miyagi?”

  “Famous trainer from my home town.”

  “Might be some Miyagi thing then. Whatever that is. Get dressed, or don’t. And bring your sword.”

  He stripped his clothes off, then pulled on his suit. He wrapped on a thick leather belt. He attached his mace to the belt, then he started rolling his shoulders, loosening up. He looked over at me, still not dressed.

  “You’re going down in the pit, boy,” he said. “Or you’re getting away from me and never coming back. I don’t do half measures.”

  “Walk left side road, fine. Walk right side road, fine. Walk middle,” I closed my fist tight, “squish, like grape.”

  “Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but yes.”

  I smiled and pulled off my own clothes before pulling on the oil-cloth coveralls. There was definitely a funk to them. Not necessarily unpleasant, but a smell nonetheless. The fabric was smooth though, a nice respite from the scratchy cheap clothes I’d been wearing. I almost wanted to wear this stuff out and around the town.

  Matthew held up a thick belt. I put it on my waist, then got the sword on my belt. Then I felt someone pulling at the back of the belt. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Matthew tying a rope to a massive metal ring on the rear of the leather strap around my waist.

  “Just in case I need to haul you back up,” he said.

  “What’s down there?” I asked.

  “Million gold question, ain’t it. To tell you the truth, I have no idea. Part of the excitement is finding out.”

  “You want to trot out a few more cliches before we go down there?”

  “Next time I take a trainee, I’ll make sure there’s a sarcasm waiver.”

  “Next time, I’ll sign it.”

  He gave the briefest of chuckles, then headed around the back of the cottage, and returned with several ladders. Which connected, with only the slightest of structural integrity.

  “We’re climbing down those?” I asked as he slid the ladders, one after another, into the pit.

  “You prefer to jump?”

  When the ladders were there, all twelve of them, they definitely sagged a bit against the wall of the pit. Stepping onto the first rung, there was a light jiggle, one that only increased as I went down.

  The walls of the pit were full of holes, and those holes were of all different sizes. Some as small as my finger, the largest being about the right size for me to stand up in. I couldn’t tell how deep they went, there was a decided lack of light in the pit, until, that was, my mentor dropped in lines of lanterns. They were ropes with lamps at regular intervals, ten or so feet spread, all lit, and going all the way down to the bottom. Suddenly, we were awash in l
ight, and I could see the mud at the bottom wasn’t still. Something moved there. Correction, some things moved down there.

  After a terrifying climb down, I stepped into the mud. The foul stuff reeked, quite horribly, and it squelched as I put my foot into it. And I sunk. Up to my thighs. Worried I might sink even lower, I got my bronze short sword out of the scabbard, and held it out.

  The things that were moving in the mud had stopped. I moved forward, out of the way of the ladder, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t block Matthew’s descent. The solid ground below was rocky, and it was tough to get my footing. Even tougher to keep it. I slipped, managed to catch myself, and almost dropped the sword.

  But I kept my grip, which was useful when the snake-headed creature launched itself out of the mud at me.

  I brought the sword across almost involuntarily, and the blade bit deeply into the creature’s neck, knocking it just off enough the course of its attack that it went right next to my torso, way closer than I was comfortable with.

  Holding onto the sword, the momentum of the creature caused the blade to slice through more of its serpentine neck, and I must have severed an artery or something because there was a sudden spray of bright orange blood, shooting out all over me and the muddy terrain.

  I hacked at the neck one more time, just before it disappeared under the mud again, and I got a good cut on the thing.

  GG! You’ve killed a Grey Anguid (LVL 6 Monster)

  You’ve earned 280 XP! What a mighty hero you are!

  An anguid. A grey one. Cool.

  Now that I knew its name, it was time for its friends to come after me. And come they did. It’s possible they were just drawn to the blood from their former comrade, but I was there as well. And thankfully, for whatever reason, they liked to attack above the mud. I wondered if it had something to do with the way they saw. Or the way they felt movement. Whatever the case, it certainly made it easier to fight them.

  They launched themselves out of the mud, over and over again, never their whole bodies, just necks and heads. I backpedaled, dodging the attacks, swinging my sword where I could, trying to get any sort of attack in on the anguids.