by ilo man
“Witherers?”
“Ghosts, ghouls, some call them soul-crushers.” Vinnie sat frozen, the words coming from behind him. He turned slowly.
“Soul crusher?”
He couldn’t make out any of her features; such was the depth of the hood that rose up from her emerald cloak.
Perception Check: Atrixa. Half-Elf. Ranger. Player.
She pulled a stool up next to him. “Soul Crusher. They go by many names, but just one look at them makes your timber wither and your blood freeze.” She looked past Vinnie at Sorrell. “So, where did you pick up this waif and stray?”
“Not me,” Sorrell grunted. “Heaven took a liking to him.”
Atrixa suddenly stiffened. She brushed her hood back, a pointy ear peeking through her long, white hair. “Soldiers,” she hissed.
“Probably coming for your friend,” growled the drow. “They’re rounding up any and every stranger and adventurer. Adventurers called Vinnie in particular.”
Atrixa swept up Vinnie’s ale and downed it. “With me,” she barked, dragging him off his stool.
The inn’s front door burst open before Vinnie had moved, wood splinters exploding in. Armor-clad militia spilled through. Atrixa shoved Vinnie down a narrow corridor, Sorrell behind them, blocking out the light.
“Run you fool. They are coming for you!” Atrixa’s words were urgent, striking a chord.
Vinnie started running, clattering down the cluttered corridor, crashing through a door at its end and emerging into daylight. His heart pounded. His mind raced. Atrixa darted past him, her hand shooting out, grabbing him and pulling him along. They sped down an alleyway, sandwiched between the backs of a line of shops and a palisade fence.
“Pull the damn bins and baskets over!” Atrixa screamed.
“Oi! Stop right there!” A cry from behind.
Vinnie grabbed at a pile of wicker baskets, toppling them, seeing more guards spilling out of the inn and into the alley. Fierce guards, mean guards, guards with murder in their eyes. Vinnie grabbed at anything he could as he darted past it. Atrixa cut left into a tight, cobbled lane that wound up in a series of twists and turns. Buildings either side pressed in on them. Vinnie gasped for air, his lungs already on fire. The half-elf pulled him on, the lane cresting, peaking, then tapering down into a town’s square resplendent with gaily colored stalls and chirpy marketers all haggling for coin. Atrixa slowed and pushed her hood up. “Head down, hat down,” she hissed, as she carved a way through the milling throng.
They crossed the square, their pace slow and matching everyone around, threading along the stalls, sliding through the crowd and vanishing along another dark alley before coming to a path that ran alongside a languid river. Atrixa stole along it and up to a makeshift bridge, no more than resting wood planks. She crossed it and pushed through a pair of warehouse doors, pulling Vinnie in with her. Only then did she take a breath.
“What are you? A fucking dick?” she hissed.
“Eh?”
“You do know Vinnie’s not a common name? What aren’t you getting about being a wanted man?”
She reached into her emerald cloak and brought out a folded note, shoving it into his hands. Vinnie unfolded it, but he’d already guessed what it was.
Wanted, dead or alive (if dead, with respawn point bound). Reward: 50 gold.
Name Vinnie. Human. Somewhere between level 3 and 6.
A charcoal sketch of his face stared blankly from the paper. Vinnie looked up. “Doesn’t look much like me.”
Atrixa snatched it back, spinning around and marching farther into the dusky warehouse. “Doesn’t matter you fool. They have your name. They have your level, and that’s enough.” She slumped into a pile of ale. “We’ll have to hang out here for a while.”
Vinnie edged closer to her. “Why are you helping me?”
“Velvet sent me. Said you were kind-hearted but completely inept in this land. She said you had coin and would pay handsomely for passage to the Wanton Witch.”
Vinnie’s heart leaped. “You’ll help me?”
“For coin,” the elf said, coldly, ruffling her long white hair and tucking strands behind her fine, pointed ears. Her skin was as pale as morning mist, her features slim, sharp, and decidedly elven. Vinnie came under her intense gaze as she seemed to dissect him mentally. “You don’t act like a killer nor an assassin, and you’re only level 4, just how did you get into so much trouble in such a short time?”
It was a question that had recently been plaguing Vinnie, and by recent, only for the last few minutes. All he could surmise was that he was good at it. He quickly concluded that this must be the case, and in normal circumstances, i.e. his real life, he’d be too drunk to notice.
“I think it’s quite normal for me,” he admitted, quite sheepishly.
This admission seemed to take her by surprise, and a delightful smile graced her expression. “She said you had something about you. Come, sit.”
Vinnie slumped down in the hay. “To be honest, I’m at a complete loss as to what to do. Since I first got here, it’s all gone wrong.”
“Hmm,” mulled Atrixa. “So much so it smacks of something else at work. Have you got any hidden quests? Any secret banes? Anyone after anything you’ve got?”
“I pumped all my points into my cock,” he blurted.
Atrixa burst out laughing. “You’re one of those? All dick no pump? You’d be amazed how many men do that.” She cocked her head. “Mind you; they normally come out on top.”
She smirked. Vinnie relaxed. His heart finally settling as her hostile attitude waned.
“I can pay you up to…” Vinnie thought quickly. “Up to five gold for the trip to… wherever the Wanton Witch lives.”
“Hundenwyrdich,” Atrixa reminded him. “And you’ll pay me much more than that by the time we’re done.”
“I need to visit the Dancing Lakes before we go.”
Atrixa raised an eyebrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Err,” said Vinnie. “Err.” He struggled. “I err, have a… I have a nymph in one of my sacks of holding. She…”
“She?”
“Lavender, her name is Lavender. She was in a little trouble, and so I kinda rescued her, and I have her in my Grand Sack of Holding along with a few dozen gallons of pool water.”
He wanted to add, and a crystal core with a tiny demon in. He wanted to get it all out in the open, but after everything, how could he possibly trust anyone?
Atrixa frowned. “You did what?”
“I rescued her from two player killers who had her trapped in a small pool by a waterfall.”
“How?”
Vinnie relayed his tale. Atrixa rolled her eyes, smiling. “Boy, do you know how to complicate your life. So, to sum up: you have a nymph in a Grand Sack of Holding currently swimming around in few dozen gallons of pool water. You took on a quest—tell me it was at least a quest—don’t tell me you’re just doing it because you’re nice, to drop her off home on your way to steal through the night to see the Wanton Witch?”
“Yes,” said Vinnie, decisively.
“You, Vinnie, are priceless.”
Your status with Atrixa has altered. You have leaped from 0, indifferent, to 3, relatively friendly. She likes you, Vinnie, don’t fuck it up.
She leaned in, and they knocked shoulders. “You hungry?”
“Famished,” Vinnie replied, only realizing it the minute she mentioned it. “I’ve got raw potatoes, onions and some green things that look like snot.”
“I’ve got slabs of meat, fresh bread and a barrel of ale in my sack. Which shall we break into first?”
Vinnie dithered and then broke. “I’m not very good at this, am I?” He wondered what was happening to him. He was used to Vinnie, ever-confident Vinnie, lead singer, superstar, idol, not this indecisive sap he’d become. Real Vinnie took what he wanted. Real Vinnie didn’t worry about what people thought of him. “What the fuck’s happening to me?”
Atri
xa looked at him out of the corner of her bright blue eyes. “Maybe you’re finding your new self. I’ve been here a few years. I’m bound to know my way around better than you. So, let’s get you up to speed, and if possible, keep you out of trouble for the rest of the day. Deal?”
Vinnie could have kissed the elf, but something about her told him he’d get a slap for his troubles. She was the first player he’d met who looked normal, yes, he thought, normal was the word. No tight basque, no overflowing corset, just a cloak with felt boots protruding from under it. She reached into her sack. Vinnie noticed a whole bunch of colorful leather and bead bracelets slide up her forearm.
“What are they?”
“These?” She thrust her arm out. “Various. The red one’s a mana bead. If I need more mana, I bite at it, and it gives me a mana infusion. The green ones are health; blue are stamina—all boosts. The others enhance skills like…” Atrixa reached into her sack, pulling her cloak down and covering up the bracelets. “They enhance other things. Now bread, meat, and ale. Best eat up. Sorrell will be here soon, and once he gets his fat hands on the loaf, there’ll be little left of it.”
“Sorrell’s coming too?” Vinnie didn’t know why, but it made him happy the half-giant was coming. “He’s an NPC,” he declared.
“So?” Atrixa tore a heel of bread and handed to him. “The NPCs…” she made to say, then thought better of it. Instead, she poured him a mug of ale and passed it over.
Pro Tip: Non-Player Characters are fully sentient in XdCexX Online. While they work within certain parameters, they are free to make choices for themselves. Treat them as simple computer programs at your peril. Once one NPC turns against you, the word can spread, and you’ve already murdered two of their number.
Atrixa smiled, clearly knowing the game had clued Vinnie in. “Sorrell can be your loyalist friend or—”
“Or my greatest enemy,” Vinnie filled in for her.
“Nope,” she said, “just indifferent. Sorrell hasn’t got a hateful bone in his body.” Vinnie tucked into his bread. Atrixa passed him a slice of meat. “So, Dancing Lakes, release the nymph and then to Hundenwyrdich. Have you opened your weapons skill yet?”
“Nope,” said Vinnie.
“You ever use a bow?”
“Nope.”
Atrixa pulled a bow and quiver from her sack. She jumped up, strolling over to the end of the warehouse and setting up a makeshift target. She shrugged off her cloak, and Vinnie gasped at her lithe, stunning body. A hunter green waistcoat accentuated her perfectly flat stomach, buttoned up under gravity-defying breasts and concealed by a white frill top. Her waist curved out, with tight, figure-hugging and matching pants tucked into velvet shin-high boots. Cascading white hair flowed over her shoulders as she took up her bow, her back elegantly straight. She nocked an arrow, loosing it in one fluid motion. Vinnie watched in awe as it streaked through the air, thudding into the plank of wood.
“Simple,” she said, offering Vinnie the bow.
Vinnie pushed himself out of the hay and took the bow. Atrixa grinned at the way he handled it.
“It’s not a snake. Here,” she grabbed Vinnie’s shoulders, facing him side-on to the target and kicked at his feet, bashing them into position.
Vinnie felt her soft breath on his neck. Her hand grabbed his, holding it firm on the bow. She nocked the arrow, her other hand guiding him as she pulled the bowstring slowly back. Vinnie’s hands started shaking, but Atrixa’s grip held him firm. “Now,” she whispered and released the string, Vinnie letting go too. The arrow shot away, its fletching wobbling, limping to the target, falling short.
Atrixa let slip a giggle. “Now you try it.”
Vinnie tried again, the arrow somersaulting through the air and landing a dozen feet away. Vinnie slumped, at first mortified, but Atrixa couldn’t contain her mirth and broke. Vinnie realized he was a hopeless cause and broke down in laughter too.
A system prompt flashed.
Ranged String—Those who take this skill will, over time and practice, become adept at the bow, the longbow, crossbow, and catapult. Choose wisely though, as you are only allowed one main weapons skill.
“It’s only offered me the skill,” he said, incredulously, and that tipped them both over the edge.
Sorrell snuck in soon after and polished off the rest of Atrixa’s food. They waited an hour or two, and as soon as dusk drew in, they made their preparations. Sorrell rummaged in his sack and tossed Vinnie a cloak. “Put the cloak on, lose the hat and pull your hood up. Is he any good?”
“At the bow? Nope, not a hint of natural talent,” Atrixa replied.
“So it’s magic then,” Sorrell grunted. “Hate magic.”
“Hey,” said Vinnie. “What about sword, blades, stabby, stabby?”
“Didn’t you leave your sword embedded in a guard’s guts?” Sorrell asked.
“Yes, but…”
“A natural wouldn’t lose his blade.” Sorrell stowed his sack, pulled up Vinnie’s hood and huffed. “Boat’s waiting.”
Vinnie was inwardly chuffed. He fancied himself a wizard—some eccentric sorcerer wielding random magic, bolts of lightning forking from his fingertips, balls of ruby flame gathered on his outstretched palm. Yes, he thought, Vinnie the White or Vinnie the Gray, a name upon which he could build a legend.
“Wizards can be such assholes,” Sorrell grumbled, hulking towards the warehouse door.
“And shit lovers,” Atrixa added, following.
“Wait till you meet Vinnie the Mystical,” Vinnie proclaimed, but neither of the others turned, so Vinnie fell in line. “Vinnie Dickwand,” he ventured.
“Now that’s my kind of sorcerer,” said Atrixa.
Vinnie couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw her hips sway under her heavy cloak.
Chapter Fourteen
Sorrell took up most of the little rowboat. Atrixa sat crammed in the front, or according to Vinnie, the pointy bit. She had her bow close at hand and a quiver full of arrows down by her side. Vinnie sat in the back, or stern as Sorrell referred to it, using his flash, nautical terms.
The glow of the town’s torchlight bloomed over them like a mushroom cap. A waning moon sat above puffing chimneys, and stars twinkled against a deep azure sky. The dip of the oars was the only sound nearby, others, like the catcalls of night, barking dogs and arguing drunks fading as they rode away. So far, so good, no one had hailed them, no one had shown the slightest interest.
They passed the city wall, and Vinnie breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been so looking forward to Slaughterhaven. He’d pictured a soft bed in a homely inn. Relaxing, taking a bath while attended by saucy wenches, frothy pots of ale, long wooden tables and a bard sitting by a roaring fire belting out tunes that told of heroes past. Mostly the saucy wenches, though. Meh, if he was truthful, it was all saucy wenches. Vincent Iron Dick—his current wizard name—had not envisioned sneaking out that very night and returning to the dark, dank forest.
Sorrell rowed on. Atrixa breathed a sigh of relief, and the forest engulfed them.
“The Dancing Lakes?” Sorrell asked, for the umpteenth time. “Are we sure?”
“Yes,” Vinnie hissed.
“Listen, if you’re going to get uptight about it, you could row you know.”
“Do you want a raw potato? Perhaps an onion?” Vinnie tried to appease the friendly giant.
“It’s, it’s, it’s,” Sorrell stuttered and then tried again. “It’s just right in the middle of the creepy bit.”
Vinnie’s ears perked. “Creepy bit?”
“All forests have creepy bits,” Atrixa said, standing, scanning the shadows, and cutting a mighty fine silhouette.
“These are really creepy.” Sorrell kept rowing, his strokes like a metronome.
“So,” said Vinnie, keenly aware his cowardice was gathering, ready for a fight, or more like flight. “So nymphs, right, they like water, right?”
“Water nymphs do,” Atrixa muttered, offhandedly. “Fire sprites
hate it, and they’re technically nymphs.”
“This nymph though, Lavender, she likes water. The Dancing Lakes and this river are linked, couldn’t we just…tip her out here and be on our way?”
“Good idea,” Sorrell agreed, a little too quickly and clearly wary.
“No can do. The quest said the Dancing Lakes, you accepted it, and so that’s where we dump her off. You’re in enough trouble without going around trying to weasel your way out of quests.”
“Can’t I just flunk it?” Vinnie asked more out of intrigue than intention. He didn’t want Atrixa to think badly of him.
“You can. You can fail in any quest, but there’s always an unseen penalty, and you don’t want that.”
“No, I bloody well don’t. Row on Sorrell, my good man.”
Vinnie didn’t want to do anything that might arouse the ire of the game even more. The bloody thing already had it in for him. He was damned if he was going to encourage more bad karma to come his way.
They rowed upstream and soon came to a lively confluence. Sorrell steered the boat up the smaller tributary, then turned again into one that was no more than a fair sized brook. Shadows, like craggy fingers, reached out for them. Vines and trails of silken web brushed over them. All around fell to an even deeper silence, deathly quiet. The brook wound through the midnight forest, yellow eyes staring out from its undergrowth. Fast legs scrambled in the skeletal trees.
“Couldn’t we have waited until morning?” Vinnie hissed, now scared to his core.
Atrixa fiddled in her sack and brought out a staff, a creepy green glow soon emanating from it, spreading about the thick forest like some luminous fungus. Vinnie’s eyes darted around, searching out danger, painfully aware that he was unarmed.
He spied a flash of red, like a flame, but moving along by the side of them. Another appeared on the opposite bank, then more. Atrixa gasped but said nothing. Sorrell’s renewed smile calmed Vinnie’s nerves a little. More of the little flames gathered, forming a cordon on the bank, lighting up their way with crimson.
