The Monolith

by Stephen Roark

  Doooommmmmm!

  The riposte went off, staggering the villager, who collapsed to his knees. He was open to a massive attack, but I still had another man to deal with. Without turning, I anticipated his attack and threw myself into a roll just as his torch scorched the air beside me.

  I speared him with the tip of my axe, stopping him in his tracks. Blood sprayed but a quarter of his health was already gone. I swung out again, but he deflected the blow and drove his boot into my chest, crushing a good%age of my health. My Rally bar vanished.

  Another swing narrowly missed me, and I knew that if this turned into a two-on-one, I wouldn’t make it. The villager beside me was still staggered, and I leapt behind him, seizing the opportunity. My axe tore open his back, painting the leaves above our heads with his blood. His health vanished and I yanked my blade free as he hit the ground.

  The surviving villager landed a blow to my cheek that sent my head spinning and whipped me around. My knees twisted awkwardly, causing me to collapse to the ground. Quintessence wisps and strands from the fallen villagers twisted around me and sank into my chest. It was completely placebo, but the gain had me feeling stronger, despite the fact that my health was more than halfway gone.

  I rolled backwards, anticipating the villager’s next attack. His torch blunted the scrub where I’d just been laying, sparking bits of lichen into tiny embers that vanished quickly.

  I looked up and saw I was between the sickly man’s legs and felt a tiny smile inside of me. My final blow caught him right in the groin. Blood spilled like lethal candy bursting from a gruesome piñata. The Corrupted Villager howled. One of his feet caught against my side and he toppled over like a dead tree. A whirlwind of Quintessence wrapped around me like angelic light before being sucked up by my body.

  I was panting, but between breaths I managed to mutter, “Hell yes.”

  I popped a Soothing Syrup, relishing in the sweet taste and sensation of restoration that brought my health to almost full. Not wanting to take any chances with the low amount of HP I had, I tossed back another one that took me to 100%. Quickly, I opened my character sheet and saw I had enough experience to raise my Vitality another point, but the cost had risen. Instead of 110, it now cost 139, a 27% increase from before.

  “Diminishing returns,” I muttered. Still, I had enough to get it up to 7. I desperately wanted to start raising my Strength so I could deal more damage, but what was the point if I died in three hits to Level 2 mobs?

  I really had gimped myself when I chose Meat Sack, and normally would have relished the challenge. But things had changed. I had to find Rey and I had to find her quickly. There were consequences now—real consequences, and I was kicking myself for not just picking Sole Survivor. I’d have been kicking so much more ass so much more easily.

  I plucked loot from the ground, finding a few more vials of Soothing Syrup, some Blunder Slugs and a curious looking shard of blood-red crystal.

  Mortal Shard—Use to obtain 350 Quintessence. Highly sought by Seekers.

  “Sick,” I muttered. It felt flimsy and weak, like it wanted to be destroyed. So, I crushed it in my hand and unleashed a whirlwind of Quintessence. “Two more points of Vit.”

  I used it immediately, bringing my Vitality to 9. My health was still only 199, which was below even the starting health of the other classes, but I was beginning to feel a little less exposed.

  Rand—Level 1

  Vitality: 9 HP = 199

  Strength: 5

  Skill: 5

  Viletaint: 5

  Intellect: 5

  The discovery of the Mortal Shard had me feeling a bit more hopeful about how long it would take me to level up. I was more than halfway to level 2, and was anxious to see what happened when I leveled up, so I shouldered my axe, tightened my grip on my Blunderbuss and kept walking, taking a new path, one that would keep me clear of that dreadful Midwife. It wasn’t long before I was wondering if I’d made the right decision.

  14

  The Order of the Raven

  “A Sky Burial may seem strange to the uninitiated, but I would much prefer my body taken to the wind than entombed beneath the cursed Earth with the beast and bones of dead men. Wouldn’t you?”

  —Alfred of the Order of the Raven

  The way the old hut stood at the center of the clearing was paradoxical. At first glance, the slight building appeared on the verge of collapse, but the way it stood proud against the woods, encroaching in on all sides, indicated some unseen strength, as though the simple existence of the place was enough to scare away the evil of the woods.

  I was chomping at the bit to find out what was inside, but I was also hesitant. It could easily be some kind of high level mob or mini-boss meant for higher level players, or some kind of trap from Mizaguchi designed to play on gamers’ natural curiosity and love of exploration. And I had to admit, if that’s what it was, I’d fallen right into his trap.

  The crumbling hovel sat beneath a shaft of argent light that cut through the rain and seemed to push the branches back, creating a ghostly glade like a lone rock standing against the towering waves of a raging storm. Tiny puffs of smoke coughed from a slanted chimney, and a soft light glowed from a single fogged window. As I stared, I saw movement within. I gripped my axe and readied myself as the front door to the shack opened and a figure emerged.

  It was a man, old but filled with strength. He wore a three piece suit the color of dark chocolate, worn and fraying at the seams. Atop his head was a stovepipe hat with a rose colored sash wrapped around it. Draped over his shoulders was a cross between a jacket and a poncho that hung midway down his thighs. He moved like a younger man.

  “Good evening, Seeker.” Even his voice was able and my eyes moved to the cane in his right hand. He leaned on it, but it was all a ruse. He didn’t need it, and I suspected a hidden blade concealed within the circular shaft of ebony wood.

  “Is it?” I asked sarcastically.

  The man glanced up to the sky and held out a wrinkled hand to collect the water as it fell. “The world weeps at the Weeping Hills. It is a fine evening.”

  I frowned, unsure of what I’d stumbled into. Was this an NPC? An enemy?

  “My name is Rathborne. Seeker of the Order of the Raven. Semi-retired of course.”

  I examined him.

  Rathborne of the Order of the Raven—Level 50.

  It occurred to me that I wasn’t even sure what the max-level in the game was. He didn’t seem hostile, which was good, as I wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

  “My name is Rand,” I replied. The old man nodded, looked me up and down, then beckoned me closer.

  “Come, Rand,” he said. “I do not receive many visitors these days. Come sit with me by the fire.”

  “I really can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just don’t have time.”

  “Ah, but if we never make time, how can we ever have time?”

  He had a point, but this wasn’t me just having a busy life. I had mobs to kill, levels to gain and a friend to find. Chatting with NPCs just didn’t fit into that schedule. But still—there was something about the man that had my attention, and the chill from the rain was getting to me.

  “Okay,” I finally agreed. “Just a few minutes, though.”

  “Excellent!” Rathborne replied. He smiled with an approval that somehow made me feel like a kid again.

  He held the door for me, and I walked past him and stepped into the cottage, which was one small room with two wooden chairs placed opposite each other beside a stone hearth that took up an entire wall. A gentle fire crackled beneath a large iron kettle suspended by a thick chain. There was a faint smell of cinnamon in the air.

  “Tired old bones,” Rathborne grumbled as he closed the door and made a show of moving slowly across the room. His face twisted as he slid himself into his chair, but he wasn’t fooling me. This was a strong man, despite his appearance. I had to remind myself that this was not pre-programmed behavior. This was a real pe
rson with a real personality.

  “The Order of the Raven you say?” I asked him. He nodded and removed the cloak draped over him and set it aside.

  “The most feared Seekers in all of Duskmourne,” he replied. “Until the plague came…swept through the town faster than any of us could have foreseen. It wasn’t a day before they were all corrupted.”

  “The villagers?”

  “Aye. I believe you’ve seen them in these woods. They’ve grown bold lately. If you care to clear the surrounding woods for me, I will reward you handsomely.”

  A quest!

  “Just killed five of them.”

  Rathborne’s eyebrows rose when he heard that. His eyes narrowed like he was sizing me up, and I couldn’t help but feel he was impressed.

  “As a Meat Sack?” he mused, nodding slowly. “That’s no easy feat. You are daring.”

  “What can I say?” I replied, flashing a smile. “I like a challenge, but I’m starting to regret it now.”

  “Why, might I ask?”

  “My friend is gone…missing,” I told him. The words stung my lips as I spoke them. “I don’t know what to do, but I have to find her.”

  Rathborne looked thoughtfully back at me. “Missing, you say?”

  “Well…” I said slowly, remembering Corlin’s possessed face as he went mad back in town. Thinking of Rey like that… “Something took her. I have to find a way to get her back.”

  “A true friend is a hard thing to find,” Rathborne remarked.

  You can say that again, I thought.

  “It seems you fit the definition.”

  “I do my best,” I replied. Something had come over the old man. His eyes turned to the hearth. Flames danced about his gaze—he looked inward, as though remembering some horrible pain. My rational mind knew he wasn’t real, but that didn’t matter. I felt for him as I looked around his ramshackle abode.

  “You…you remind me of someone I once knew.”

  “Did something happen to them?”

  The old Seeker looked up at me as though shocked that I’d asked the question. Had no one bothered to inquire about his life? They just showed up, took the quest and went on their way?

  “My son,” he said slowly, his voice almost quivering. “Before we understood the plague, a madness took him. We—we were forced to put him down, thinking it would stop the spread.”

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  Dark, Mizaguchi. Dark.

  The man’s pain was real. I felt it too.

  “But it didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll see his grave out back.”

  “I’m sorry, Rathborne.” And I was. The tone of the hut had shifted dramatically, and I felt as though I was exploring unknown territory, as though I was the first one the man had shared his story with. This man was once great, and possibly still was, and carried with him a powerful presence. But this haunted memory ate at him like a disease, reminding me of what would happen if I lost Rey.

  “I—I have to get going,” I said, quickly getting to my feet as my anxiety got the best of me. Every second I wasted was another second Rey was lost in the world. And I was still Level 1!

  “Wait, son,” Rathborne said softly, taking a firm grip on my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “You are strong of heart, but still weak. The world is vile and filled with treachery. Take this.”

  He rose swiftly from his chair, snatched his cloak from where it lay and handed it to me. “This will aid you in your quest.”

  My first instinct was to refuse. The gamer in me was jumping at the chance of some new loot, but my conscience was telling me no. The man had few possessions, and I couldn’t help but feel as though the cloak had some kind of significance to him. But I saw the insistence in his eyes, held out my hand, and took it.

  The cloth was light but firm, definitely wool but somehow different than anything I’d ever felt. It wasn’t so much “worn” as it was “broken in,” like a pair of good jeans or an old leather wallet.

  My inventory dinged and I inspected the icon.

  Cape Cloak of the Order of the Raven—Made from the finest of Devil’s Wool, designed to convey the same sense of dread one gets when looking into the shadows. Defining possession of a Seeker of the Order of the Raven. Imbued with forgotten magic, the penalty to a Seeker for having lost his cloak in battle is simple—death.

  Armor Level: 25

  Grants the wearer the Shadowstep ability.

  +25% to Rally.

  +20% Health.

  “Wow…” The icon carried an amber border, and the gamer in me was smart enough to know that this was an ultra-rare item I was holding. “My first real piece of armor! Is 25 good?”

  “Negligible,” Rathborne replied. “But the rest…?”

  He raised an eyebrow and curled his lips in a knowing smile. He nodded, indicating that I should put it on. I did, pulling my head through the oval-shaped hole in the top.

  It fit perfectly, and I guessed the game re-sized it to fit the wearer. There were no sleeves, only a break in the fabric to allow freedom for my arms. The collar was thick and wide, like a fabric gorget to protect my neck and shoulders. Strangely, I felt somehow lighter as I wore it—and much more intimidating. It also raised my HP to 239, which was still lower than the rest of the other origins, but far better than where I’d began.

  “Like a glove.” He smiled. As I looked down, I saw a small embroidered raven on the left breast made from dark thread, barely visible if you weren’t paying attention.

  “Shadowstep,” I asked him. “What does it do? How do I do it?”

  Rathborne smiled. “Come outside and I will show you.”

  15

  An Introduction to Beast Slaying

  “I hear strange things from the woods beyond the Hills these days, but I fear what I might find if I ventured forth from my home. So I remain indoors now more than I once did. Sometimes I scold myself for living in such fear—other times I wonder if it is the only reason I am still alive.”

  —from the journals of Victoria Blossom

  I felt like a new man as I stepped out of the heated air of the cabin and into the cold downpour that still wept from the sky. Rathborne marched ahead of me around the back of his hut, and drew something from his pants pocket. A stone, or some kind of pellet made of murky quartz. Without hesitation, he hurled it into the woods. I heard it shatter and watched as a cloud of algae colored mist exploded into the air.

  “What was that?” I asked. Rathborne gave me a sidelong glance and wiped his hand on my chest, leaving a slight trail of moisture. It smelled of peppermint. “What—?”

  “Ready yourself.” Instantly, I had my axe in front of me and a tight grip on my Blunderbuss. “A beast comes. He is fast and unforgiving, but if you keep your wits about you, you will best him.”

  A terrifying cry burst from the shadows, like an enormous dog or rabid wolf. Thick slabs of rain water sloshed down across my cloak as I stared towards the tree line.

  “You asked about Shadowstep,” Rathborne continued.

  “What is it?”

  “It is the key to winning this fight,” he said with a sly smile. “It is something you must feel,” he told me, pressing a finger against my chest. “It will allow you to move in a way you never dreamed. Simply think it, and it will be so.”

  I opened my mouth for another question, but that was when the beast came.

  Sick purple strands of matted hair hung from its thick torso, trailing behind it like kite tails as it dashed towards us with tremendous speed. It would best be described as a wolf, but its head was mostly mouth, with teeth dripping a bubbly yellow foam. Paws the size of dinner plates tore up the earth as it raced forward.

  Flesh Starved Dog—Level 4.

  “Level 4!” I blurted out, retreating a step. “I’m a Meat Sack! I’ve got no health! It’s going to kill me in one hit!”

  “Stand strong!” Rathborne commanded me, placing a hand on my back. “You can best this beast, boy!”r />
  The old man moved aside as the frenzied creature leapt at me. It was all I could do to dodge its claws as they swiped the air. I threw myself out of the way as it spun and snapped at me with its massive jaws. I swung frantically and made contact somewhere, but the beast’s health bar barely moved. My Rally bar, however, filled considerably. But when I spun around, the dog drove his snout straight into my guts, knocking the wind out of me and sending me tumbling back to the stony ground.

  “Watch yourself, boy!” Rathborne shouted as my health plummeted and my Rally bar vanished.

  “I’m trying!” I growled, doing my best to ignore the pain in my stomach as I rolled aside and downed a Simple Syrup to restore my health to around 75%.

  The dog’s side was exposed, and I brought my axe down for a solid hit.

  17

  That’s it?! I thought as the thing snarled and snapped at me, catching my arm and chewing away half my health. I was dangerously low, and one more hit would finish me.

  I rolled back, pressed both of my fists against the ground and vaulted into a backwards somersault. I landed steadily on my feet and raised my axe in time to block an incoming blow. I stabbed back, catching him in the chest with the tip of my axe. His health barely budged, but again, my Rally meter filled considerably.

  “Think it, boy!” Rathborne shouted.

  “Think what?!” I roared as the dog let out another ear-piercing scream and lunged at me. This time, I dropped to the ground and let him soar through the air above me. I was back on my feet before he landed.

  “Shadowstep,” Rathborne called back. “Get behind him!”

  “How?!”

  “Feel it!” he bellowed.

  Feel it?! Is he kidding me?!