Wanton Witch: XdCeX Online - Discretion Guaranteed. A LitRPG Series.

by ilo man

  The demon, he decided, he had to coax the demon to grow. He had a magic cock, now he just needed somewhere to use it—getting his name cleared by the king, rescuing Princess Blanche and tracking down the bitch, Cresta, notwithstanding. He sized up his staff.

  Pulling it up, he held it like a huge baseball bat. Expecting it to be quite unwieldy, he was surprised that it felt quite natural. He gave it a swipe, and it whistled through the air. Pulling it down, he held it like a microphone stand, beginning to strut as he pulled the staff close and pretended to sing into it. His spirits rose, despite the rain and the deep, dank wood. He twirled; he put his boot up on one of the ledges like it was a stage light, and for a moment, he was Vinnie the Rock Star, not Vinnie, the frightened adventurer.

  In mid-chorus, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, and somehow, he knew Sorrell was in danger. He planted his feet on instinct, brought his staff up, flipping his grip and swinging it in a perfect upward arc. The staff connected, but he concentrated on his follow through, bringing the end of the staff around and to a stop above his shoulder.

  While Vinnie concentrated on his perfect swing, Sorrell ducked, and a ravenous beast that resembled a cross between a huge rabbit and an antelope stopped in mid-pounce, had its chin pushed right up into its brain cavity, and then flew backward, stone-cold dead, slumping onto a rocky, moss-laden shelf.

  Sorrell turned, one hairy eyebrow raised. “Well, that was close.” He inspected the corpse. “A Jackalope,” he muttered. “Where there’s one…” Sorrell stood rigidly, a staff appearing in his hands. “Seems like the best way to kill them.”

  Just as he said it, more horns appeared over black ridges on either side of them, and more at either end of the alley of black-rock shelves they had been ambling down. Vinnie swung his staff back. He felt strangely happy, oddly pumped up. The Jackalopes attacked as one. Vinnie and Sorrell swung as two.

  The first flew down on Vinnie, blackened teeth bared, little rabbit eyes glimmering, and Vinnie swung with an uppercut, smacking it straight on the bottom of its chin. Bham! Another hit. He didn’t even bother to watch it slump back, he spun, another beast already running at him. He span his staff, trapping it under his armpit, holding it like a pike, and jabbing the Jackalope in its gut. The beast doubled over. Vinnie brought the staff up, then back down with a sickening thud. He sprang around, ready to face the next.

  One Jackalope fell after another. Vinnie imagined himself on stage again as he pounded the Jackalope’s, knocking them down like songs in a set, smooth, in rhythm, each hit coming easily, blood spurting all over him, horns slicing as they fell to the floor, severed, and teeth biting before his staff caved them in. Thud after thud, squelch after squelch, until suddenly, his strength went, and his energy vanished. He dropped the staff, unable to hold it any more, sinking to his knees, falling under a deluge of Jackalopes.

  He felt his flesh being torn away and screamed in pain, trying to fight but lacking any power. His conscious faded, a dark tunnel consuming his vision now. The pain of the frenzied Jackalopes was far too much to bear.

  Ruing the day he entered the game, ruing everything about it, he screamed in his mind. He regaled his hatred of the game, his thoughts now filled with his days of no esteem, Cresta’s witchy face, and the twins morphing into hags and Lavender, her body twisted and bent with desire. “Get me out of here,” he whimpered and screamed for his agent to come and sort it all out like she always did, like she always would. “Bring me drugs, bring me ale,” he whimpered as his heath plunged. “Felicity, I need you!” he cried.

  His mind blacked over, just a flashing red light remaining. He zoomed in on it, focusing, reading the two words scribed onto it, two three letter words, LOG OUT. Free, he thought, I’m free of the game. I just had to tell Felicity how much I needed her. But then other thoughts cascaded through his mind, of Velvet, Princess Blanche, of Sorrell and Atrixa, of how he was finding his own feet.

  But the light offered him his old life back where he was a god, where he was Vinnie Targetti—a world where he had white sheets and cheap little romps in hotel rooms. A world where nothing excited him anymore and drugs and alcohol dulled everything.

  Then he saw her, the elf with the sad eyes. She was hovering, watching him. Her skin a vivid shade of green, and ruby red lips pouted. Large pointed ears emerged from her mauve hair, hair the same color as her eyes. She looked sultry, she looked sad, and Vinnie realized he’d been wrong, she was no elf, not at all. Quite what, he couldn’t tell.

  But he wanted to know.

  Cool liquid trickled into his mouth, cold and leaching straight into his veins. His fingers twitched, his toes too. More fluid dribbled in, this one was much more sour, nearly making him gag, but his energy returned. It began flooding into him. The quit button receded and his vision of the green creature went with it. Thoughts of Felicity turned from savior to hag. Had she trapped him there just to prove her worth? Then the green creature returned, and she blew him a kiss, and he heard her soft-spoken words, “Goblin, goblin,” and Vinnie fought to survive, to carry on living in the land.

  The dark tunnel returned. He strove for the light, his energy gradually returning. With every bit of his being, with every ounce of his new found strength, Vinnie fought to be reborn. He took Atrixa’s hand as he finally opened his eyes. He felt her grasp as she pulled him to his unsteady feet.

  “Vinnie,” she shouted, then more softly. “Are you okay?”

  “I…,” said Vinnie, but his mouth was parched. “I know why now,” was all he said.

  Atrixa led him to a rocky ledge and sat him down. Piles of Jackalope corpses lay strewn around.

  “You nearly died,” she told him and showed him her wrist, its colorful bangles all dangling. “I gave you one for stamina and one for health. It should see you though.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You did well. You splattered a lot of them.”

  She turned and weaved through the fallen bodies, searching out Sorrell who sat bloodied and bruised in their midst, scratching his head.

  “Pssst,” hissed Little Red. “Plug me into one of them there corpses.”

  Vinnie started shaking, his recent brush with death suddenly creeping up on him.

  “Vinnie, remember our deal. You feed me, and we get to have some fun.”

  He nodded, almost on autopilot, called for the crystal core. Looking furtively at Atrixa and Sorrell, Vinnie stabbed it right into a Jakelope’s guts.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” purred Little Red. “Glad you decided to stick around, Vin.”

  “Oh, I won’t be going anywhere,” Vinnie replied. “I’ve got unfinished business.”

  His belly had become fired, fired with betrayal. Felicity had locked him in the game to get him to beg for her help. He wasn’t going to let that stand. He wasn’t going to do what she said anymore. He growled, staring at Little Red’s core poking out of the Jackalope guts. “You and me, Red.”

  “Forever and ever, Vinnie.”

  He saw a system prompt flashing.

  Blunt Melee—This Vinnie, this is the weapons skill for you. A vastly unpopular skill, it doesn’t have the glamour of a well-swung sword or the beauty of a finely shot arrow arcing through the air. It isn’t magic—no fire bolts, lightning or turning folk into toads. This skill, Vinnie, is Blunt Melee.

  It is the staff, the club, trench mace, and the bludgeon. It is the war hammer, the kanabo, hanbo, and the chainsticks, but more Vinnie, it is every stick in every forest, every hoe in every field, you specialize in one, you excel in all. Accept this skill, and you will be unique, as all go for glory, none go for diversity.

  Vinnie smiled a truly evil smile and took the skill without further thought, bending and picking up the staff that Atrixa had leaned him. A skills tab popped up next to his attributes one. He clicked on it.

  Primary Skill selected = Blunt Melee. Specialized weapons not yet selected, would you like to see some options? Y/N

  Vinnie dithered for a whi
le but decided to skip it for now, or rather, when Jackalope corpses didn’t surround him.

  Then he thought, fuck it, and pressed yes.

  Pro Tip: You should think about your specialist weapons and choose wisely, for instance, if you specialize in the mace, you will automatically excel when using a club. If you choose staff, any broom handle or pole will substitute seamlessly. Irrespective of specialization, you will progress at all blunt instruments. Think about it, but don’t dally, the skill is waiting for you.

  For your information:

  Weapons skills progress in a linear fashion like this:

  Fundamental Awareness: You have a basic knowledge of the weapon.

  Novice: You have limited experience of the weapon.

  Intermediate: You have an understanding and can use the weapon to a practical level.

  Advanced: You understand the weapon and the theories behind it and can apply those theories.

  Expert: You and your weapon are seamless.

  You graduate from one to the next when you achieve the correct level of awareness. There are no progress bars, no levels other than those five.

  You are also allowed to choose a subordinate skill. As Blunted Melee is, by name, a melee skill, your subordinate skill must also be from that class. Your options include Blades, Martial Arts, Streetfighting and Brawling—

  “Street fighting and brawling,” Vinnie said, without a moment’s hesitation. He’d secretly always wanted to be able to win a punch-up in a bar, and if he could master it in a VR game, then who knew, he might get to win one in real life.

  He re-opened at his skills tab, and it looked like this:

  Primary Skill selected = Blunt Melee

  Current weapons status [Specialized weapon not selected as yet]: Staff = Novice.

  Subordinate Skill selected = Street fighting and brawling

  Current skill status: There is no data.

  Satisfied, he retrieved Little Red, popped her back in his sack and jumped off his rocky seat. Sorrell was up and about, and Atrixa was looting the corpses. She looked up. “Go on, take what you can find.”

  Vinnie started sifting through the corpses picking up the odd coin or two, a handy health potion, which added to the one already in his sack that he’d forgotten about, a cooking pot and a white bone pipe.

  Pro Tip: If wild beasts attack you, and they are acting as a mob, then they will always drop loot. If you attack a herd of wild beasts and they engage your agro, then they too class as a mob and will drop loot. In both instances, you will also gain experience points. The experience points gained is equivalent to the total given for the entire mob divided by the number of your party whether formalized or not (unless in a dungeon or on a specialist quest in which case only party members will get XP).

  Congratulations! You have helped beat off a husk of Jackalopes. The land awards you 1500/3 XP. Your current XP is 4300. You are 700 XP short of Level 5. At level 5 you will open the attribute of Compassion.

  Atrixa was watching him closely. “So, you settled on a weapon then?”

  “Blunt melee,” he said, wondering if she would scorn him.

  Atrixa grabbed hold of him, pulling him close and putting her arm around him. They started walking up the path.

  “I think it suits you.”

  “Why?” he said, smiling.

  Sorrell ambled on in front. “It suits him,” the half-giant agreed.

  “Why?” Vinnie asked again, suddenly feeling at home with the pair of them.

  “Well,” Atrixa said, the corner of her lips curling up. “You’ve already done quite a bit of damage with one blunt weapon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The attack of the Jackalopes had taken Atrixa by surprise. By all accounts, the beasts rarely strayed into the Grand Central Forest. Jackalopes, spawned in deep burrows under the Twin Mountains and were allied to all things dark, all things Sivatious. According to Atrixa, Earthpower laced the forest, and that was contrary to Sivatious’s dark-driven magic.

  So, after the initial relief that they’d fought off the vicious beasts, Atrixa began to worry and retreated into herself, keeping her conclusions close and watching over Vinnie as though he were the most precious thing in the land. Atrixa insisted that Sorrell lagged behind Vinnie by a few paces, and she ranged a little ahead of him. So Vinnie found himself all alone.

  At first, he didn’t mind because he wanted to get his mind straight. The log out button coming alive right when he was at his most vulnerable still plagued him. While he couldn’t be sure what was going on beyond his VR pod, it did seem remarkably coincidental that he’d just called for Felicity’s aid, and the button started to flash. But that didn’t make any sense as it would mean that she was watching his every move. Perhaps it was Sandy? That thought kept rearing its ugly head. Sandy was his PAI (Personal AI), and her parameters were simple, to keep Vinnie happy.

  He pursed his lips at that thought, as it might easily lead to that bottomless rabbit hole of self-introspection that was; Was he happy? So, he scrubbed the thought out of his brain and concentrated on watching Atrixa’s fine looking ass sashay down the trail ahead. The rain had relented, but gray clouds still dominated. His boots rubbed, and his crotch was red-raw, but curiously, Vinnie felt upbeat.

  “Where are we going,” he asked but received no reply. “I mean,” he pressed on regardless, “I know we’re going to see the Wanton Witch but are we going any particular way?”

  Atrixa turned, holding her index finger up to her narrow lips. “Shush,” she muttered, then winked. “I’m listening.”

  Vinnie muttered a little grumble, torn between actually keeping quiet and asking her what she was listening out for. He decided, for possibly the first time in his life, to be quiet, though his bottom lip did judder a little. Bored, he took out his map. The heart-shaped land appeared straight away. He exploded his fingers to zoom in on the big band of the forest they traveled through and spied the faintest of green pips blinking. Zooming in farther, he could see a stream a few hundred yards east of the pip. On the other side, darker lines closed in ragged circles giving him the impression they were hills, signaling gentle rises when the lines were spaced apart, steep slopes when they nearly joined together.

  He brought the map up to his eye-level and looked along its surface to see if he could see the hills, but alas, it was just a map. When he looked back, the little green blip had moved along a bit and was much closer to the stream now. The stream flowed from a blob of black in front of the blip, another squiggly line that originated up in the ridge lines fed the blob; he thought likely a pond. Atrixa sniffed the air.

  “I think there’s a lake ahead. What do you think Sorrell, will it be safe enough?”

  Vinnie glanced behind him to see the Sorrell shrug his shoulders. “I dunno depends on how much he pissed them off.”

  “Who?” Vinnie asked, wondering if they could narrow it down just a touch.

  “As long as he doesn’t go near the water—touch it, drink it or swim in it—they won’t be able to taste him, smell him, or whatever they do. I think we’ll be cool,” Sorrell finally answered.

  “Ahh, the nymphs,” Vinnie said, the light dawning.

  “I think we’re getting closer to a stream, and I’m sure there’s a lake up ahead. It might be a good place to rest up.”

  “It is if we’re the green blip,” Vinnie muttered to himself, but a little too loudly, as more light dawned.

  Atrixa span around, glaring at Vinnie. “Show me!” she growled, marching up to him and snatching the map away. She held it up to the dull sky, tried to tear it, sniffed it and tasted it. “Who gave you that? Exactly what kind of a map is it?”

  “It was in my beginner’s sack,” Vinnie said, getting a little irate she’d tried to tear it up. He looked up his items. “Ermm, there it is, in my inventory.”

  “What does it say?”

  “A map.”

  Atrixa stamped her foot. “No, what does it say in the description?”

 
“A little magical map.”

  Sorrell’s shadow fell over them. He plucked the map out of Atrixa’s hands. The half-giant shimmered slightly, then gave the map back to Vinnie. “Leprechauns,” he said, then added, “again.”

  “So, I take it this is no ordinary map,” Vinnie held it out like a used handkerchief.

  “No beginner’s sack map, certainly.” Atrixa tapped her finger on her lip. “I wonder if someone gave you the wrong sack.”

  “Frederick the innkeeper,” Vinnie explained, but they just ignored him.

  “I’m wondering if the map leads somewhere,” Sorrell said, his tone thick with intrigue.

  Atrixa grabbed it back, studying it, then gave it back to Vinnie. “Stuff it in your sack and don’t bring it back out,” she said, before turning, un-shouldering her bow and treading carefully on, eventually coming to the lake and edging round it a good distance away from its shore.

  Vinnie’s good mood evaporated, and he tucked his chin into his cloak and traipsed on head down, and on, and on, and just when he decided that adventuring was a boring as crap, they came upon a not so magical sight.

  A dozen dwarves blocked their path, axes raised, glares fixed, scowls in place. The closest was by far the ugliest. Standing around the four-foot mark, and a shade under the same in width, he had boulders for shoulders and the longest flame-colored beard that Vinnie had ever seen. Given that Vinnie was Mr. Heavy Metal, that was no mean feat.