“Shit,” I said and wiped my nose. Then I sneezed again.
“Blessing of the Five upon you,” the woman said.
“Uh. Thanks,” I replied. The Five? That rang a few bells, but my head was too out of it to even deal. You ever have one of those mornings where you feel like you drank yourself into oblivion and did something monumentally stupid the night before? Well, I felt a lot like that multiplied by ten thousand.
Something stupid. Now that did ring a bell. Something on the edge of my memory. Friends in need. My fight to survive, and then my… death. Magic spells, and me battling a beast of some sort.
The memory faded and I was left staring slack-jawed at my shirt sleeve.
I shuddered, what was I wearing? My sleeve fell back to reveal my pale wrist but not before I noticed the fabric that could only be called rough-spun cloth and it felt like some shitty wool sweater my grandmother would have given me when I was ten, and we lived in Montana.
This was a hell of a dream. Did one of the guys from work roofie me?
“A drink?” The woman interrupted my drifting thoughts.
“I don’t know, what do you have to drink?” I asked her.
I rubbed my eyes and then took in the server. She was a slight thing with big blue anime eyes, and tanned skin. Long locks of hair cascaded around the sides of her head before colliding with a bright red dress that unbuttoned in front to reveal a little skin. I quickly averted my eyes before she caught me staring at her cleavage. Then I looked again because why not? This was my dream, after all, pale expanse of cleavage and all.
“I can offer you mead, wine, or water. We also have diluted brandy from the Spring of Isabel Farrow imported at great expense. That requires you to show gold and not just a few pieces.”
“I’ll show you something,” I said with a lopsided grin and a wink that was meant to be roguish and charming, even though I was a complete dork around women.
“Mead, wine, water, or diluted brandy from the Spring of Isabel Farrow?” she asked.
“Uh is that some kind of fancy water or just like straight from the tap?” I said.
“Only the freshest. I retrieved the water from the spring of Candleburn but a half day ago, my lord,” she said. “So, mead, wine, water, or diluted brandy from the Spring of Isabel Farrow?”
“You kind of sound like a broken record, you know. You keep repeating stuff,” I sighed. “Just water. Mead is gross, and I’d be suspicious of any kind of wine in my dreams. Nasty. Wait. Am I in some kind of mental hospital or something, doped up on Thorazine or whatever they give to crazy people?”
“Mead, wine, water, or diluted brandy from the Spring of Isabel Farrow is all I can offer you, my lord.”
“There’s that broken record again,” I tried.
She gave me a quizzical look.
“You’re killing me, Smalls,” I offered. “Just bring me a glass of water, and I’ll be good. Now that I think about it, I’m parched.”
“Water it is. I should tell you that there is a trough outside and you’re welcome to drink from it for free.”
“Clean water?” I asked.
“Clean enough for one such as you.”
“Such as me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Copper-less and lacking in experience,” she said.
“I have plenty of experience,” I said with a wink.
She turned away with a saucy tip of her hip and strode toward the bar. My eyes followed her even though the layers of her dress made it hard to see her shape. My dream could have chosen a better wardrobe for a tavern wench. Like, no frumpy garments at all.
The room was lined with wooden tables on log legs of all things, and it appeared they were held together with twine. A pair of men in dented and rusting armor sat at a table across from me. One lifted a mug to his lips. They had placed heavy helmets to their right side, ornate pieces with the etchings of birds’ outstretched wings that swept over the cheeks and up to meet at the center of their brow.
The men were nearly twins with the exception of their beards. Mug sipper had one. Stew eater had none. Both had piercing blue eyes, and dark brown, closely cut hair.
“What are you staring at, towser?” Mug sipper met my eye.
“Just taking in the sights. How do you and your brother like this place?”
“Brother? I don’t follow, towser.”
“You keep calling me towser. My name is Walt,” I said defensively.
“You lot. Buncha towsers. No shame in being penniless and without weapon or experience. Find a field to work while we patrol the town and keep you peasants fat and happy,” Mug sipper said with a chuckle.
“Rude,” I said and turned my attention back to the serving wench as she came back with my drink.
“Water,” she said and set a wooden mug in front of me. “That will be a quarter copper.”
“Water costs money?”
“That will be a quarter copper,” she said.
“I was in a bar in L.A. once, and they charged me for water,” I muttered. “But that was L.A. What is the name of this place anyway?”
“This is the Grey Gull Tavern in Candleburn on the western shore of Th’loria. Welcome,” she said. “That will be a quarter copper.”
This dream was getting weirder by the second. I hadn’t visited the town of Candleburn in almost five years, ever since my first level character took his first tentative steps into that virtual world. Now I was a level 69 sorcerer with my first monumental. Not an easy task, I can assure you, because I had at least a thousand hours in the game.
Wait a minute. It came back to me in a rush. The raid the night before. My guild mates screaming at me to help. Fighting an umber-hulk and dying poorly. But that had been in the game.
Then something else hit me. Candleburn was the name of a town in Realms of Th’loria. The thing about the little village was that it had been replaced in later updates to the game. No one had mentioned Candleburn in years unless it was for nostalgia’s sake. The problem with the starter town had been its initial difficulty. Just hitting level 3 had been a tedious bit of work. Th’loria had since grown into a theme park MMO, but I still played because it was the greatest game ever created.
“Okay, fine.” I said and reached for my wallet, but my hands only found the waistband cinched up with a cord and no pocket. “You’re sort of pushy for a tavern wench.”
My head rocked back. Pain erupted across my left cheek, and I saw stars. Holy hell. She had slapped the shit out of me.
“Call me a wench one more time, and I’ll drive a dagger through your face,” she picked up the cup. “If you can’t pay I suggest going out and earning some coin.”
“Ow!” I managed to gasp.
“Serves you right,” she crossed her arms. “Have you no manners?”
“I’m sorry?” I offered as I rubbed my cheek.
“You don’t sound sorry,” she said.
Stew eater lifted a mug to his lips and used it to cover his laughter.
“I can pay, hang on. This is my dream after all. I wouldn’t have entered it without moola,” I argued. “Didn’t think I’d get my ass beat by a tavern…”
She reached towards her belt.
“Er. Such an excellent server,” I said.
Something thumped against the side of my leg.
I felt along my waist and located two items.
The first item was a slim book on my right side where I had felt the tapping a few seconds ago. The second was a pouch on my left. I lifted the flap and dug around but only found two coins. I pulled them out and tried to examine them in the poor light that was provided by burning torches of all things. Caused a hell of a bunch of smoke to stream upward before escaping from a hole. The rest of the room’s illumination was provided by candles and a fireplace from which a large metal pot hung over smoldering coals.
The girl was fast and snatched one out of my hand. She put the water down in front of me and slipped the coin into a pocket. Then she dug out three sma
ller round bits and dropped them in my hand.
“Thank you,” she said, twirled around and left with a curt, “Blessings of the Five upon you and may you avoid the wrath of the shard bearer till the end of your days.”
“This is turning into the worst fantasy dream ever,” I was doing a lot of muttering today. “Wait. Did you say ‘shard bearer’?”
“Aye. Falstace waits in the castle beyond the forest for one to challenge him. He is the bearer of a shard of Th’loria.”
“He sounds like a badass. I have a shard you know.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and then she laughed out loud.
“One such as you? A fine jest, my lord. Now I must be back to work.”
I turned my attention to the change she had given me. The coins were hand-stamped and featured a woman’s face on one side. She looked familiar, but the art was so rough it was hard to make her out. The other side said 1C and nothing more. I put the coins back into my pouch and pulled out the book.
“What’s that?”
I jumped in my seat and nearly had a freaking heart attack. Sitting next to me was the one person I wouldn’t expect to pop up in a dream. Oswald Blackwell. He wore clothing similar to mine and looked like he had been through the ringer. His short black hair was stuck up in places as if he’d just awoken from a full night of tossing and turning. I patted my head and found my hair wasn’t in any better shape.
“Where did you come from?” I said, heart racing from the scare. “You shouldn’t be in my dream.”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Weird, isn’t it? We were in that room talking to Howard Thomas while drinking that shitty booze and then we were here,” Oswald said.
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was just in the same room with you.”
“You know what I mean and don’t be a dick all the damn time,” Oswald said.
“Oh, I’m a dick because you’re popping up in my dream? The hell is wrong with you?”
“A dream? Dude. Does this feel like a dream?” Oswald said, then hauled off and punched me in the arm.
I recoiled and grabbed my bicep, such that it was. I hadn’t worked out for so long it was just flab on top of flab.
“Son of a…” I pulled back to take a swing at Oswald.
“Just chill out. I was trying to make a point.”
“You made a point alright,” I mumbled.
Dream or no dream. I was going to get Oz back for that.
“I don’t understand what’s happening and I don’t need you being a whiny little bitch, okay? Let’s just take this one step at a time. What did we do right after we had that drink?”
“We didn’t wake up here. I’m still asleep, dumbass. None of this is real,” I said and waved my arms around the room even stopping to point out the guards at the table across from us. They both looked at me like I was a loon.
“So we’re both hallucinating. Got it. Thanks for clearing that up,” Oswald said and crossed his arms over his chest.
“We were in the R and D room and we were about to toast Howard’s new invention,” I said. “I mean his new overpriced VR gear. I like the stuff I have, and there’s no reason to upgrade. Oh and Karian was there. But we weren’t in any part of the building I remember.”
“Right. Then they took out those fancy looking motorcycle helmets with the wires hanging out of the back,” Oz said.
“The helmets. The most advanced VR tech ever invented blah blah blah. I’ve heard it all before. It’s just another overpriced bunch of gear. I like the stuff I have. It works.”
“Think about it. That guy promised us a preview. Said it was beyond anything we have ever experienced.”
“Just marketing lingo,” I argued.
“Hah!” Oz laughed. “Just look around at all of the marketing lingo.”
“Wait. Who offered us the preview? That part is fuzzy,” I said as I tried to summon up a clear memory.
“Huh. That is odd,” Oz said.
“Doesn’t make sense because Karian also tried on one of the helmets and she’s not here,” I argued.
“That is weird,” Oz nodded.
“Wait. How long have you been sitting there?” I asked because I refused to admit that any VR gear could provide this kind of immersion. Feeling pain from a punch? This was all just some stupid dream probably brought on by too much booze and my first sip of that new stimulant stuff called NitroGroove.
“I don’t know. I was all alone in this room when it sort of came together like it was being stitched around me,” Oz looked around. “Smokey in here.”
“Yeah it’s stinging my eyes, and my nose is stuffy,” I said, then lifted my head and blew out a violent sneeze.
“Leefser bless you,” the server called from across the room.
“Shit. That hurt,” I said.
“So did you look in that book yet?” Oz asked and nodded at my side.
The book was attached by a cord. I lifted the slim volume and cracked open the thick cover which was made of leather and then sniffed the book.
“Smelling your book. Weird.”
“Just wondered if it was leather, is all. Smells like it,” I said.
Oz shrugged and leafed through his slim volume.
I’m sure you’re thinking, gee, Walt. You sure are going out of your way to deny a bunch of obvious shit like how leather smells. Fair point, but you have to understand that at this juncture in the story I was more confused than accepting. My reality was not what it should be. Not even close.
The left page looked like a list, but it was written in a language I couldn’t understand. There were numbers as well, and they reminded me of a game interface. I flipped to the front of the book and found a shape drawn in dark ink that looked like a person. There were lines with little bars next to symbols of weapons. I ran my fingers over the page but and found it was made of some rough parchment-type crap. The weirdest part was that the bars were raised like they were embossed.
“It’s like…” I started to say.
“Stupid Realms of Th’loria,” Oswald finished my thought.
“If it’s so stupid why do you work at the company?”
“Because I played it a few years ago just like every other male in the world,” Oswald said. “But I got over it and started playing real games. To answer your second question, I work for the company because it’s a great employer and I don’t have to mess with the game. We do interface testing. If I had to spend hours every day testing inside the game I’d probably blow my fucking brains out.”
“Really, man? You’d rather work on the stupid shit that customers see before they enter the game than the actual game? Such a weirdo.”
“Like I said. Let every dude in the world enjoy it. I have other things to do with my damn time.”
“It isn’t just males in the game. Plenty of women play,” I took the defensive.
“Whatever. I only played it for a few months then I decided that getting laid every night was more important than getting some stupid in-game monumental,” Oswald said.
“Screw you. I get laid plenty,” which was a lie, but whatever.
“Sure you do,” Oswald nodded and rolled his eyes.
I was getting sick and tired of Oswald’s shit. I had to put up with him at work but that didn’t mean I had to put up with him in this alternate reality. I should find a weapon and just slit his throat. I could get away with it too. My dream. My rules. My throat-slitting.
Just then the door to the tavern crashed open, and a man stumbled in with blood running down the side of his face. He blinked his eyes and wiped the crimson fluid away to clear his vision. Poor guy looked like he had been dragged behind a car.
“Chitterlings are attacking the western gate. Gather your weapons and defend the town,” he gasped and then fell on his face.
“Chitterlings?” I said. “This is going south real damn fast.”
“I think that about seals it. Chitterlings were a noob monster in Th’loria. Dude. We’re somehow in the game
.”
“Yeah but …” then I ran out of words as my mind collided against this hard truth. Maybe I should have asked for a pitcher of shitty sweet wine after all.
FOR THE EXPERIENCE
What were we even doing here? I wished like hell I was back at home, or in the office. At least there I knew that people didn’t like me. Here I wasn’t even sure if anyone was aware of me more than as an external intruder.
Oz had been a jerk to me the whole time he’d been at AlgerTech. Always bitching and calling me out in front of my boss about my repro steps during testing. I filed all the right stuff and could repro it just fine so a programmer making six figures a year shouldn’t have even batted an eye. You wrote the code; you should know how to fix it.
Unless it was a bug I knew was going to Karian. In that case, I tended to take copious notes but also to leave subtle holes so she would at least talk to me. She was the cutest girl in the office by far. That mocha skin, her arched eyebrows, the little nose ring, and I knew she had a couple of tattoos because sometimes she wore shirts that revealed them on her arms.
She wasn’t much shorter than me and tended to wear Keds or some other kind of flats. But I sometimes got a little flabbergasted around her and didn’t know the right thing to say. I tried to joke with her but always ended up talking about the game and how much I love it. She didn’t work on the game but she had created most of the version 3.0 interface that allowed new customers to sign up via an electronic form, or by logging into the VR helms, and talking into the microphone to confirm their billing info. I thought the system was sweet, but some in the industry had complained it allowed others to eavesdrop.
Oh man. Enough about my dream girl. I had other things to worry about like how in the hell we were going to get out of here, much less how we were going to survive the next day.
The two soldiers kicked their chairs back, snatched up their helmets, dropped them over their heads, and strode for the door with a clatter of metal and chainmail like synchronized swimmers dressed in armor. The twins wore leather boots with even more metal strapped around the fabric.
The bar wench, make that the server with the strong hand and sharp dagger, rushed to the fallen man’s aid.
SHARDS OF REALITY: A LitRPG novel (Enter the Realm Book 1) Page 2
