War in the Greenwood: A LitRPG Novel
Page 1
War In The Greenwood
Galen Wolf
Contents
Acknowledgments
1. A Chance Meeting
2. The Druid's Birthday Party
3. Founding Pennred
4. Old Tom Complains
5. Shoddy Infantry
6. Elfhair Returns
7. Rohan's Blessing
8. Getting the Quest
9. The Mystery of Armboth Hall
10. Riddles and Tunnels
11. Boss Fight
12. Pennred, Mon Amour
13. Getting the Runes from Harald
14. The First Battle of Pennred
15. The Astrologers Tower
16. The Burning of Avalon
17. A Trip to Goblin Town
18. Pennred Besieged
19. The Siege Ends
20. Ahn's Garden
21. A Shattered Alliance
22. Astral Bob Captured
23. Harald and Birog
24. Barcud Rescues Astral Bob
25. Ambush in the Woods
26. 3rd Battle of Pennred
27. Sunset
Glossary
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Ian Mitchell for all his suggestions and help. Go read his stuff!
Graham Toseland for his patience and editing skills. Go hire him!
The crazy Bulgarian book cover designers at BoBooks. Go get some art!
1
A Chance Meeting
Two shadowy figures stood in the forest ahead. With a mumble, one handed the other an object. They didn't see me but I stopped dead anyway, hushed my breath and waited. Human eyes couldn't see through my stealth skills, but the demons with them could. They turned, lifted their noses, scented the wind — scenting for me.
I motioned my pet Wolf to be quiet. I didn't know who these characters were, or what skill sets they had, but I was in danger there in the grey heart of the Forest of Nightmares. I could have appraised them to see their levels and possibly their names, but if I did, they'd see me straight back.
One of the characters was a Sorcerer. I knew that from the crowd of demons around him. I identified them as Purson, who has the face of a lion and drains mana; Three Headed Beleth, crowned with the triple heads of man, bull, and hawk and who burns his victims to death; Amdusias, a man with claws on his hands and feet who chokes those he chooses; and Agares, a serpent who slithers to trip his enemies, binding them like an anaconda so they are at his master's mercy.
A ripple went through the demons as they sensed me. The snake Agares slithered over the grey mulch and pine needles of the forest floor heading straight at me. The other demons turned their evil heads, slavering tongues hanging from their mouths, claws flexing on their bony hands.
I wouldn't be at anyone's mercy. I used Flip to tumble like an acrobat back out of their way, also giving me five seconds of invisibility, then I dragged my Bow of Flame from my inventory. I drew three arrows from the leather quiver and used Rapid Shot to nail the demon snake - the biggest threat if he tripped and bound me. Two fiery arrows struck the snake in the head, the third landing a critical hit. I damaged the serpent for 47 health in total. Quickly, I snatched another arrow, firing then rolling right and leaping away. That did it for the snake, which expired in a puff of flame.
I spun to see the band of demons approaching with bandy legs and swinging arms, hooting like baboons, and calling like wild dogs. They sprinted between the slim grey trunks of the trees, kicking up pine needles as they ran towards me.
I looked at Wolf, who stood obedient by my side. I commanded him - go. With a snarl, my companion ran at the lead demon, lion-headed Purson, and sprung, sending the demon tumbling backwards. I reached into my inventory and pulled out the figurine of the Forlorn Tiger, which I dropped. A low growl announced the arrival of the Tiger, which stood as tall as my waist, tight muscled and striped like a moon in a monsoon rain. At my command, the Tiger rushed for the three-headed demon Beleth, leaping, and snapping this way and that to rip at its throats. The demon lunged back with its taloned hands, ripping and drawing rivers of blood from the Tiger's flanks.
Wolf snarled as he worried the throat of the stricken Purson, lying prone under his paws. Rapid Shot was off cool-down now, so I took three more arrows and let loose a barrage of flame like a Soviet rocket-launcher. Then one more with Focused Shot to increase my critical hit range. They struck Amdusias in his chest: one, two, three; then again — a crit. The thing stumbled, half on fire, howling in pain. Shouldering the bow, I cartwheeled across the forest floor, dragging out my daggers: Biter and Mournblade, and finished the creature off. I pivoted, stooped and with a double stab helped Tiger slaughter its opponent and turned to see Wolf, jaws black with demon blood, panting beside me.
A welcome rush of XP flooded in from the demon deaths and I saw by glancing up at my HUD, that I was inching towards Level 11.
All that was left was for me to find out who those two figures were. I nodded at my entourage and my companions fell in line. We ran through the trees to where I had first come upon the secret meeting. Only one figure stood there now. I recognized him. It was Elrick, Sorcerers’ Guildmaster and one of the Ministers of the City of Horrabia. He looked at me with his cue ball white eyes, lightning crackling like a crown of thorns around his bald head. He had waited, confident that his demons would kill me. Maybe they would have once. Not now.
He muttered an incantation and the ragged robed figure of Death appeared, with his skull half hidden beneath his black cowl. Death wielded a Scythe of Draining— it would remove my levels with a critical hit, and do added Evil damage to the normal slash damage of a scythe.
I sheathed my daggers and took out my bow. I didn't want to get close to the scythe. I decided to kite him. With thought commands, I sent Wolf wide right and Tiger left of the demon. The Fletch Arrows skill allowed me to create endless +5 arrows from the woods around me. I had plenty, and as the demon advanced, throwing back its head and keening its dry rattle, I let fly. As it came forward, I went back. When it moved right, I moved left, firing all the time, peppering it with damage. Death was a Level 15 demon and I was only Level 10, but I didn't intend him to close with me. I used my Appraise skill to check Death's health—which felt like an oxymoron—and when he was at around 45%, I ordered my entourage to attack. Wolf leapt out of the brush from the right and Tiger, rushed in, snarling from the left. At the same time, I stood still and concentrated on firing like a machine. Death fought back, slashing Tiger, but when he turned his back on the Tiger, the Wolf savaged him from behind.
As the demon grew more damaged, the graphics set him alight to represent the flame damage I was causing him. Death's death was a done deal. I glanced past him to where Elrick stood. So far, he had not joined battle, and as an experienced level 20 sorcerer, he was a dangerous adversary. Instead, he stood and stared, reached into his pocket, brought out a battered red tin pill box, and popped a teleport pill into his mouth.
In a PVP fight, the second trick—the first being winning—is to stop your opponent from leaving. An Anchor rune thrown onto the ground will prevent them from teleporting away with a pill—I didn't have one—or the Blue Rose poison, which I could daub on my arrows or daggers, would give vertigo, and stop them flying away.
With a shimmer Elrick vanished. But as to who his companion had been, what he had given the other, and why they met here in the rarely frequented Forest of Nightmares, I had no idea. I had heard rumors of impending war. Maybe this secret meeting in an out of the way location on the edge of Horrabian territory was to do with that.
I looked around. I had come to pick the poisons Lallo and Vomwort, but I
needed to speak to my guildmaster about what I'd seen. Using the Forest Teleport skill, I travelled leagues away to Woodheart, the Rangers’ Guild village in the Old Forest. I needed to seek advice about what I'd seen.
2
The Druid's Birthday Party
I logged into the Greenwood the next day as soon as I got out of my real-life bed.
I'd got into the habit of spending all my day there. Greenwood time went ten times as fast as real world time. We used Virtual Reality goggles built into helmets with transcranial receivers. Technology had come on so much over the past fifteen years that using techniques originating in medical fMRI scanners to give real time pictures of brain activity, the different regions of the brain had been mapped. The TCR helmets played minute electrical currents across the skull to stimulate the brain area beneath so the inside of the helmet was a delicate platinum mesh, finer by far than that of the smallest spider web.
The second step to realizing a virtual reality world is to know that at least half of your experience of the world is constructed by your brain on the fly. Sensory information comes in, or in our case is simulated by the Transcranial current, and your memories supply the rest. For example, you see an image of a rose, the current stimulates your olfactory centers, and your brain supplies the scent of a rose, or the sea, or a fire. In this way, full sensory immersion is possible, vision, sound, smell and touch through the haptic vest and haptic boots and gloves.
With the aid of modern technology, I was transported to my real home.
Rohan the Druids’ Guildmaster stood in the centre of the Grove. He was an antlered man of medium height with a long salt-and-pepper beard and a wise face. There was something otherworldly about his kindly green eyes. At first I wondered why he had antlers, then I realized: Rohan was a fey.
Shortly before I walked with my friends into the party grove, we'd come across the Great River in a grey elf boat, crossing the babbling water to land on the lush western banks of the river. Stepping off the boat, one foot sinking into the soft gravel of the shore, I entered the protected realm of Avalon. It was already dark and stars glittered overhead like scattered handfuls of diamonds. The grey branches of the Mallorn trees were hung with glowing lanterns. As we walked, bushes flared in color, outlined in iridescent fairy fire running, tripping along their branches in blue, yellow, and green flames.
Even the grass here seemed exceptionally well nourished and came up to my calves. Strange birds hooted and called out of sight in the trees. The Druids’ Guild had welcomed us for their Midsummer party. It also happened to be Rohan's birthday. Rohan came and greeted my companions.
"Ahn!" he said. "Thanks for coming."
Ahn bowed. Lithe, leather clad Ajora went in close to give Rohan a hug. They rubbed noses.
"A hundred and three?" Ajora said. "You don't look a day over a hundred."
"You're very cheeky." Rohan wagged his finger at her.
Ahn introduced me, and Rohan clasped my hand warmly. I noticed again the strange glow in his green eyes, as if he looked right through me. He smiled broadly and I got a tremendous warm feeling just from being in his company.
"And you must by young Barcud. Ahn talks warmly of you."
I grinned "He does of you too."
A female druid approached from the left, Rohan introduced her as Birog the Deputy Guildmistress. Birog was tall with long dark hair. She looked like an elf by race. She wore a long green kirtle, a shawl of blue silk, and elegant silver jewelry in the shapes of birds and flowers clustered around her neck and wrists. She was barefoot with silver bells hung on a slender chain around her right ankle. She shook our hands warmly, hugging Ajora. "It's so lovely to see you all here. You know we always like to throw a party at Midsummer. And of course, it is our guildmaster's birthday – a happy coincidence."
Rohan went off to greet more guests who emerged from the lantern draped grey trees around the Grove. There were wooden benches set up around the Grove and in the centre, a large bonfire crackled as it consumed the wood and gave off a welcome heat.
I walked up to the fire and rubbed my hands feeling the glow on my cheeks and face. Even though it was Midsummer, since the sun had gone down it was cold. I glanced around the guests hoping to see my friend, the priestess Elfhair from Vinab. Ahn told me earlier that she would be coming tonight to the party with other guests from the city but there was no sign of her yet.
Something moved outside the circle of firelight. I spun my head round to look closer, but it was gone. It was probably nothing. This was a happy occasion, nothing here to get spooked about.
Ajora took a seat and beckoned me to sit by her. A druid probationer offered us a goblet of a rosehip and mead cocktail each. The goblets were elegantly shaped of colored glass with a slender stem. I took a sip still darting glances around hoping to see Elfhair. The mead slipped down and warmed my gullet. From over to the right another druid began to play a harp.
Ajora whispered, "Do you like harp music?"
I shrugged and sipped more wine. "It's okay, I suppose."
"I hate it. I'm more into Norwegian black metal."
"Pig’s heads and stuff?"
She nodded and took a gulp from her colored goblet.
"I never figured you like that," I said. "Black metal and stuff."
She grinned, her pale lips stained red by the juice of the rosehips. "I'm very dark."
More guests arrived crowding into the glade. The druids had set up lanterns that floated around the clearing just over head height. Peering from the woods all around us were the shy and curious faces of deer, and rabbits and other woodland creatures. Mixing with the party guests were satyrs and fauns. They were NPCs that the druids summoned as part of their skill set, but it seemed they too were welcome at the Midsummer party.
I looked around and saw some characters from Vinab had arrived. Elfhair wasn't with them. I recognized Achilles the rogue. Achilles had accompanied me on our raid on the evil city of Horrabia, which so humiliated and angered the Horrabians.
He waved when he saw me stop. I was pleased to see his ruddy face with his ginger hair and the diamond set in his front tooth. He came to sit with us and introduced two other player characters I remembered seeing around Vinab, but whose names I didn't' know.
Achilles pointed at a mailed knight. "Hi, this is Parzifal Sturmwalzer."
Parzifal wore plate armor with a full mediaeval knight's helmet with a nodding yellow feather at its crest. He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he shook our hands with his steel gauntleted fist. Parzifal's armor gleamed in the magical light of the Grove. On his breast the silver unicorn symbol of the city of Vinab was embossed. He had a flamboyant blond moustache, which was waxed at the ends.
"Parzifal's Guildmaster of the Knights’ Guild of Vinab," Achilles said, half standing to clap another of the Vinab party on the shoulder. "And this," he said. "Is Astral Bob."
"Astral Bob? Good name."
Astral Bob wore long midnight-blue velvet robes that had seen better days. They were embroidered with gold suns and silver moons. I noticed some threads of the embroidery were coming loose. He had a tall Gandalf hat on his head also in blue that was crumpled at the top. He smoked a rollup cigarette between tobacco stained fingers. The whole image was constructed to suggest a guy who didn't care about appearances, but he'd obviously chosen this appearance at character creation to make the point he didn't care about appearances.
Astral Bob stroked his wispy goatee beard as I thrust my hand out to shake. He didn't take my hand. Instead, he smiled and said, "Sup, mate?"
"Yes," Achilles said. "Astral Bob – of the Scryers’ Guild and Spymaster of the city of Vinab."
Astral Bob gave Achilles an old-fashioned look. "You're not supposed to tell them what I do in public." I couldn't tell whether he was joking at first, then I decided he was. Astral Bob winked at me. "It's all very hush-hush." He turned to Ahn and Ajora. "I know these other two fine Rangers," he said, "and I'm very pleased to meet you Barcud. I hope
you'll prove to be as sound as your Guildies."
Then from the centre of the Grove, illuminated by the fire's flickering flames, Birog clapped her hands to get our attention. When we all looked her way, she began. "As you know," she said, "Midsummer Night is a very special night for the druids. On this night, we gather together with our friends to celebrate the beauty of nature and the magic of these wonderful woods." She gestured around to the trees and bushes, mysteriously lit by fairy fire. The animals still crowded round, half in shadow, outside the circle of the firelight. They were shy but here they knew they would come to no harm. The Druids’ Guild swore to pacifism and vegetarianism. Not my bag, but I respected the druids for their choices.
Remembering suddenly, I whispered to Achilles. "I thought Elfhair was going to be here?"
Achilles glanced all around. "Funny," he said. "I thought she was here already. She was supposed to be coming with us but when she didn't turn up at Vinab Square ready to teleport to the Old Stone Cross, I presumed she'd come with you."
I shook my head. A pang of anxiety shot through me, but Elfhair was a Level 20 priestess and she'd proven previously that she could look after herself.
Seeing my expression, Achilles sniggered. "You're getting all worried that she's not here." He punched me in the shoulder. "It must be love."
I grimaced.
My guildmaster, Ahn, slapped me heartily on the back. Then he gave a wink. "She'll be here soon, don't worry. As I recall, she's very punctual."