by John L. Monk
Chapter Eight
Before retiring to my room upstairs, I had a total of six ales and two loaves of heavenly dark bread. I also managed to read some of the surprisingly massive game manual while simultaneously fending off Bernard’s attempts to tell me the history of Heroes’ Landing. Tomorrow morning, after a good night’s sleep, I knew I’d have to let him.
He really was a brilliant sort of lucid, but he was clearly compelled to dole out “ancient lore” to weary travelers. One of his tales would likely send me off on a daring quest. The manual said quests were a great way to get experience points. If you had enough points, you’d rise in levels. I desperately needed levels to reach Ward 2. So far, I hadn’t found anything in the book telling me how many points that took.
Sleeping, it turned out, was a little more necessary than I’d been led to believe. The world had a day and night cycle, and The Slaughtered Noob closed at midnight. So, unless I wanted to bump around in the dark outside with nothing to do—or sit on my bed with nothing to do—I had little choice but to sleep.
It was strange how it happened. One minute, I was wide awake. Then I consciously thought about sleeping—and yawned. I thought about the bed and yawned again. Then I read some more of the manual without yawning once. But when I again thought about sleeping, my eyes drooped and I yawned.
After lying on the soft mattress, I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake until dawn’s first light. Unlike real sleep, I wasn’t groggy after waking or in any way tired. Time had simply disappeared for a while, and now it was back.
That morning in the common room, the tables were filled with homely people eating bread and drinking ale. Bernard stood behind the bar telling several people the history of Heroes’ Landing in a hushed tone. It was as if nothing had changed from the day before.
A weird sort of claustrophobia closed in on me. One where I stared down the eons at a life where nothing changed and nothing anyone did mattered in the slightest.
I moved closer to listen. The barkeep’s animated face matched his relentless cadence, alternating between that of a professional storyteller and the worst sort of hard-sell huckster.
“Lo!” Bernard intoned. “It was here those magical beings left their legacy, beneath the very bones of Heroes’ Landing! For a single gold piece, I can sell you an ancient map showing the entrance to those forgotten passages beneath this modern city. I also have swords, spellbooks, prayer books, totems, effigies, lock picks, ranger quivers, and most of the other class starters. No haggling! Now, let’s see … Who’s first?”
Angry grumbling from the group. Then one of them—a skinny man of Asian descent—said, “Some crazy bitch killed us and stole our starter gold! Totally not fair. I’d like to file a complaint!”
Bernard’s smile was wide, and his eyes gleamed evilly. “And where, pray tell, will you file such a complaint? Customer support? There is none. Tech support? You’re looking at it. If you need gold, go out and beg for it. Someone will eventually give it to you. Or you could always find a god and pray to it, see what happens. Some sects hand out prayer books free. If you like fighting, monks rely on punches and kicks—devastating DPS at high levels. Wouldn’t that be fun? You could even multi-class! Diversity in skills—that’s where the real survivability lies.”
“Excuse me,” I said loudly, then swallowed when ten pairs of eyes turned to regard me. “What’s a DPS?”
Several in the crowd snorted. One of them muttered, “They call us noobs…”
“Ethan!” Bernard boomed. “So good of you to join us. I was just telling these noobs-noobs-noobs about this glorious city!” He pointed rudely at everyone there as he said this. “Oh, and to answer your question, DPS stands for damage per second. It’s an old term from way back when, but it doesn’t really apply anymore. Your kind still says it, though.”
One of the snorters (a woman), and the mutterer (a man) left the inn in a huff, still snorting and muttering to themselves. It sounded as if they were going to try begging.
The other retirees began arguing about what to do. Someone suggested ganging up on noobs entering the game, the way Magda had done to us, thus perpetuating the abuse.
I’d had enough.
“Excuse me,” I said again. When nobody noticed, I raised my voice. “Excuse me!”
That got their attention. I held up a shiny gold piece—the one returned to me by Magda. It had the Everlife logo on one side and a dragon’s head on the other.
“I’ll buy the map and share whatever’s in it,” I said.
“Well done, Ethan,” Bernard said. “Here you go!”
The gold piece disappeared from my hand, and a game notification flashed across my field of vision:
“Under Town” ADDED TO MAPS
I checked the tab in my character sheet called Maps and saw a new entry: “Map to Under Town.”
Another game message:
VIRTUE BONUS: +5 (Charity to Strangers)
I’d disabled the audible notifications, but forgot about those pesky Virtue updates. Stifling a curse, I disabled them with a thought. After that, I endured handshakes and back clapping from players asking how much gold I had, and could they have some too?
Bernard just grinned.
Chapter Nine
“That’s all the gold I have,” I told them. “I’m broke too. Same woman. But she left me a gold piece.”
Some of them started grumbling again. Then a woman with short red hair said, “We can’t do much without weapons. Think you could ask her for more gold?”
I shook my head. “She left as soon as we got to the gates. But if we work together, we won’t need her.” I turned to Bernard. “Sorry, what’s in this Under-thing anyway? What do we do there?”
“Once you get below the city,” Bernard said, “your sanctuary status will disappear and you can be killed again. Over and over again, forever and ever. This isn’t Ward 2, haha. And lucky for you. Wouldn’t last five seconds there.”
“We didn’t last five seconds here!” someone said.
Bernard said, “Shush, you. Now, once you get down there, look around and have fun. The deeper you go, the more dangerous it gets. There’s even a moderately high-level zone way, way down deep, but you’ll need to be able to fly. Probably can’t do that one until around level seventy.”
“Is that it?” I said.
Bernard paused in thought—which was funny because he was a lucid and didn’t need to. “Fight monsters, gather treasure … Oh, and when you get bored, come back here and drink free ale. Then buy better gear with your loot and go back and do it again. Then on and on like that, etcetera, etcetera. What could be simpler?”
Frowning, I said, “That doesn’t sound like a quest. Shouldn’t we be finding a powerful jewel or something that will save the world?”
Bernard leaned close and tapped me daintily on the nose. “You’re too little for that. Just go there, look around, and I’ll give you all … oh … how about six thousand experience points? That and the monsters you kill should help get you started.”
“But we still need weapons,” the redhead said.
“Never fear, Kathy,” Bernard said. “A true warrior needs only her fists. Or a handy rock. Or even a pointy stick. Anything can be a weapon.”
“Say, Bernard,” I said. “You really know everyone’s name?”
“I really do. I told you yesterday: it’s a perk.”
I nodded. “Have you ever heard of a man named Cipher?”
The bartender paused in apparent thought again. “Odd name, and I’ve heard them all. Never that one, though. Were you thinking of changing yours? You can. Your species and sex too, if you’d like. It takes more gold, and you need someone with the proper spells to do it. A wizard or a priest, for example. Or if you perform certain high-level quests. There’s even one that turns you into a unicorn! Don’t see the draw, myself. The ladies seem to really like unicorns, though. Men seem to like ogres.”
“Thanks,” I said, and wondered at the odd quali
ty in his voice at the end there. Almost like he was suggesting something.
Five more would-be adventurers peeled off from the original group. They wanted to try their luck begging while simultaneously sightseeing around the city. That left four holdouts who wanted to go with me.
David was a big complainer, and his dour-faced wife, Marcy, seemed ready to fly apart at the seams. Jim was a quiet man with intelligent eyes who sported a thin mustache. And Rita seemed unconcerned by our weaponless plight as she quizzed Bernard about this piece of city lore or that. She had curly brown hair, a permanently happy look in her eyes, and a pleasant smile that marked her an easy friend. I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done in life.
“So what do we do now?” David said after a low and heated exchange with his wife. Both of them looked at me for answers.
Jim said, “Just because he’s got a map, he’s in charge?”
I shook my head. “I’m not in charge of anyone. But I need to get my footing as quickly as possible, and this seems like the best bet. You’re welcome to come along. Everyone is. Even you, Bernard.”
Bernard threw back his head and laughed. “Would that I could, oh Lord of the Coin. But my place is here, toiling eternally for you noobs, forever and ever, until the game creators turn off the world and kill us all.”
He chuckled merrily at his own joke while the five of us shared an uncomfortable silence.
“Okay, then,” I said to the others. “You ready?”
“I was born ready,” Rita said.
“Let’s just go,” Marcy said and pushed past her husband without a backward glance.
A second later, David and the rest of us followed her.
“Good luck, brave adventurers!” Bernard called behind us.
Ten minutes after leaving the inn, we arrived in a big open-air market with everything you could want for sale, much of it magical looking. There was also delicious-smelling food, jugglers, and music.
Almost immediately, I could tell Marcy was going to be a problem. Every time a woman walked by in sexy warrior armor, or some preternaturally beautiful elf woman glided past, Marcy would glare at her husband and wait for him to do something foolish—like look anywhere but the ground—and then she’d pounce.
“Why don’t you just screw them all?” she shouted.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” David said. “Would you please pull it together?”
“I’m not the one staring at every bimbo that walks by!”
Jim found it amusing and kept throwing me knowing looks, while Rita seemed completely oblivious.
“I wonder how we get way up there?” she said, staring overhead at the griffins and magic carpets as we passed through the busy streets. The cloud cover was lower than yesterday, and the tops of the towers were nearly invisible.
Twice, Rita had almost been run over by horses, only to yelp as I pulled her out of the way. A quick check of my virtue showed each small gesture earned me positive points.
I pulled up the map again and stared at it. The others couldn’t see it because they hadn’t paid. The map was amazing. Though given as a way to reach Under Town, I could use it to more easily navigate the twists and turns of the city, which didn’t follow the sensible sort of planning found in Earth cities.
“Next left,” I said, pointing at an opening between two rows of medieval townhouses.
“Hey,” Jim said, “look at that shop. Armor and weapons. We should go in!”
“And do what?” Marcy said, rounding on him, eyes blazing. “Should I sell my body? Who the hell would want it?”
“Would you knock it off?” David said. “We’ll figure out what to do, okay?”
“I used to be beautiful!” she shouted.
“But you’re young again!” he shouted back, running agitated fingers through his hair. “Obviously there’s something going on and we just need to find out what.”
“Go to hell!” Marcy yelled and hurried into the crowd.
In exasperation, David said, “You guys go ahead. I gotta deal with this.” Then he followed after her and quickly disappeared.
“On second thought,” Jim said, touching my elbow, “screw the shop. Let’s get moving before those two come back.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.”
Chapter Ten
“Well, here it is,” I said.
“I don’t see anything,” Jim said, looking around the quiet courtyard.
“What about the fountain?” Rita said, pointing at a circular fountain with a lovely statue in the middle. Exquisitely designed, the motif was of ogres and unicorns splashing happily through sculpted waves.
“That’s hardly a tunnel to Under Town,” Jim said.
We’d entered a closed-off courtyard with no exit except the way we’d come in. Strangely, the buildings had no windows or doors facing the courtyard, turning it into an obscure pocket of space with no other purpose except to enclose the fountain. There weren’t even benches.
“Let’s look closer,” I said.
No coins in the basin, which would have been handy given our finances. Water spilled from a flagon clasped in the hands of an obviously drunk ogre. I reached up and tugged it to see if anything happened.
Nothing.
“Maybe we have to walk in the water?” Jim said. Without waiting, he kicked off his sandals and climbed in.
“That looks fun,” Rita said and climbed in with him. “Oh, it feels good!”
“You sure this is the place?” Jim said.
I consulted my inner map again. The path clearly ended here. “Says so.”
“Maybe the map’s faulty,” he said. “Or the quest is bugged. I used to play a lot of games, and sometimes the designers screwed up—put in bugs and never fixed them. Not like we can complain, right?”
“Mmm,” I said, ignoring him.
I circled the fountain, analyzing every inch in search of a crack I could tug or something that looked like a button or lever. When nothing materialized, I stared at the sculpture itself: drunk ogres, happy unicorns. But that wasn’t all. One of the ogres was staring at one of the unicorns, and another was daintily pointing at it with a pinky.
Intrigued, I reached up and tugged the unicorn’s horn, but again nothing happened.
I was about to suggest we try our hand at begging in the streets when a thought occurred to me.
“Rita,” I said, “what did Bernard say about unicorns?”
“Uh … that women like unicorns? Kinda sexist, actually. Not that I’m offended.”
Jim snorted.
“Could you do me a favor,” I said, “and tug on that horn right there?”
“One sec,” she said and sloshed to my side of the fountain. She reached up, tugged the horn … and nothing happened.
Jim said, “What about the ogres? He also said men like ogres.”
Rita said, “Ethan—grab that flagon while I grab the horn, okay?”
Together, we grabbed our respective fountain pieces—and a deep, subterranean groan shook the courtyard.
“We did it! We did it!” Rita shouted jumping and splashing around happily.
On one side of the fountain, the pavers had sunk into the ground to reveal a set of stairs leading into darkness.
DUNGEON FOUND: Under Town, 200 EXPERIENCE POINTS
Jim yelped.
“Dammit!” he said, hands clamped to his ears.
“I like the audible alerts,” Rita said brightly. “I set my volume really low and turned off the visual. That way I can still know if a notification comes in. I may switch to tickle alerts though.” She giggled. “Because I’m ticklish.”
Grimacing, Jim dug at one ear with a finger. “Just comes right out of nowhere. How do you turn it off?”
“Fourth page, under Notifications,” I said. “There’s a whole bunch of stuff there.”
Jim’s eyes glazed over. A second later he said, “Got it. Thanks.”
I’d left the visual notifications. I needed to get a feel for when I’d be
rewarded.
“Who wants to go first?” I said.
“It’s your map,” Jim said nervously.
Rita laughed but didn’t volunteer. I had a feeling she wanted to see what I’d do more than any actual fear.
The steps led down about two hundred feet with no handrails. Water leaked through the stone ceiling, slicking the pavers, so the going was slow. No way I’d survive the fall if I slipped. Jim and Rita were right behind me—a little too close for comfort. Twice I asked for space, and each time they gave it to me, only to creep back closer after a few more steps.
“Our sanctuary flag is gone,” Rita said at one point.
“Lovely,” Jim said.
I’d gotten the same notification. Our location had changed from Heroes’ Landing to Under Town, and the SANCTUARY flag had been replaced with PVE/PVP. Whatever that meant.
The going was dark and getting darker, and soon I could barely see at all. Then, as if punctuating the point, groaning from above indicated the exit had closed off, sealing us in permanent darkness.
A few minutes later, we reached the bottom.
“Anyone think to bring a lantern?” Jim said grumpily, sounding too loud after so much silence.
“We could always head back and get something,” Rita said. “If we can open the door. Pretty sure it’ll open again. Otherwise that’d be dumb.”
“One second,” I said, and began feeling around the walls.
The rough surface felt different in one spot. A second later, soft light from the etched-in rune flooded the stairwell.
“Oh, that’s cool,” Jim said. “Just like the inn. The ceiling, remember?”
“All the conveniences of home,” I said, feeling pretty good about myself.
The historian in me wondered if the runic symbols were from a real language or just gibberish. Then I mentally shook myself. What did I care if they were real or not? I was here for two very specific things: points to get levels, and levels to get to Ward 2.
Everything else was just a distraction.
