Forever Fantasy Online

by Rachel Aaron

  “Yes, brother,” James said, ears down from the intensity of Ar’Bati’s lecture. “I will do as you say. Thank you for teaching me.”

  This deference seemed to satisfy Fangs enormously. “Come,” he said, turning on his heel. “Father is waiting to bring us to dinner, and patience isn’t one of his virtues.”

  James nodded, running after his new brother with a rush of relief. There’d been so many ups and downs today that the idea of a belly full of warm meat as he sat with people who actually wanted him around sounded like heaven. As he walked beside Fangs in the Grass, none of the jubatus gave him more than a sideways look as they marched into the village, where the drums were already pounding.

  ****

  The first thing James noticed upon reentering the village of Windy Lake was just how many more jubatus there were. This also came as a surprise to Fangs in the Grass. It took forever to make it to the center of the village because the head warrior was constantly stopping for warm greetings and tearful hugs with friends and family he’d clearly thought were eighty years dead, and James guiltily realized he’d completely forgotten to tell the head warrior about the return of the lost population. Fortunately, Fangs didn’t know that he’d known, so James’s sin remained undiscovered.

  Even though he was in the background for these happy exchanges, James felt joyous as well. He had no idea where the game had stashed the nine-tenths of the population it hadn’t needed, but he was so happy everyone hadn’t actually ceased to exist. For their part, the new jubatus—being neither players nor non-player characters—didn’t seem to know what to make of James at all. He was introduced as “James Claw Born” by his new brother, which seemed to be enough for most, but James couldn’t help but notice how his presence made everyone’s tails go still.

  Eventually, after countless hellos and introductions, James and Fangs in the Grass made it to the center of town. The huge drum had been moved out of the way, and a giant bonfire was roaring high into the evening sky. Smaller drums and stringed instruments had been brought out, and a mishmash band was desperately trying to overpower the noise of the crowd, but it was impossible when every family was seemingly trying to outdo each other by throwing their own massive party. Large spit-roasted animals turned above dozens of cook fires, and every tent had tables set out with booze, appetizers, plates, banners, and so on. Roving partygoers moved on a circuit through the fires, greeting in the loudest voices possible and eating at every stop.

  It looked so much like college football tailgating that James had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He also had to fight not to drool over all the food. He hadn’t eaten since that morning, and the smell of so much delicious cooked meat was making him salivate. He was really hoping that he and Fangs were going to make the rounds so he could try a bite from each table, but the tall warrior cut right through the middle to the center of the square, where a low platform with a wide table had been set up beneath a yellow banner marked with a black curved claw. Both Rend and Gray Fang were seated there, though Ar’Bati’s father—and James’s too now—was the only one who smiled.

  “James, my boy!” Rend said, hopping up from his seat to grab his new son by the arm. “Come with me. We have a lot to do!”

  Before James could ask what that meant, his adopted father yanked him into the crowd. For the next hour, James was dragged from gathering to gathering as Rend Claw Born introduced him to every jubatus family in the savanna. It was a dizzying number of names, titles, and faces to remember. To James’s dismay, his stat-boosted memory apparently still sucked at remembering names. Worse, Rend kept them moving so fast, he didn’t even get anything to eat.

  Finally, they came back around to the Claw Borns’ table, where James was introduced to his new extended family. Like the rest of the village, they were all very nervous to meet a player, but Rend never missed a chance to proudly proclaim his new son’s amazing deeds. The old warrior’s enthusiasm and joviality helped smooth out even the most anxious members of the clan, and soon they were smiling at James as well. Some even talked to him.

  Finally, when all the introductions were over, James and Ar’Bati got to sit on the platform beside Gray Fang, Rend, and the other important family members. Then to his starving delight, someone brought James an entire serving platter piled high with roasted meats and his own pitcher full of something that smelled delightfully alcoholic. He immediately dug into both, but while the meat was every bit as good as it smelled, the stuff in the pitcher was not the burning liquor he’d expected. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it tasted amazing. Sweet and slightly metallic but savory at the same time.

  “Fangs,” James whispered, licking his whiskers as he pointed at his already-half-empty pitcher, “what is this stuff?”

  “Fermented sorghum mixed with fish blood,” his new brother replied.

  James’s eyes grew wide as he almost horked it all back up right then and there. Fortunately, only his human side was disgusted, and all of him was more than a little tipsy. “It’s good,” he said, forcing a smile as he took another sip.

  That earned him a raised pitcher and a grin. James grinned back, savoring the pleasant buzz between his ears as he shoved another piece of nearly raw meat into his mouth, washing it down with the delicious fermented beverage that he’d decided he wasn’t going to think too hard about.

  After the liquor started flowing, the party became a bit of a blur. There was dancing at some point with James being shoved into various arms for some awkward whirls around the central fire. This was followed by more food, which James ate until he felt he was going to pop. He was vaguely aware of Rend drunkenly giving some kind of speech that involved a lot of pointing at him, but James fell asleep halfway through, passing out right there in his seat with his head pillowed on the table.

  He awoke to someone shaking him. Given how rough the treatment was, James wasn’t surprised to see Fangs’s feline face when he finally dragged his eyes open. He was still pretty dizzy, but the fires were all banked, and the partygoers were dispersing.

  James was about to ask what time it was when Fangs turned away and said, “He’s awake.”

  “Good,” said Gray Fang, appearing over James as well. “It’s time for business, then.” She gave James a scathing look. “Cleanse yourself, and we will go inside.”

  James tilted his head at her, utterly confused. How was any business going to get done when everyone was as drunk as a skunk? Then he saw the bright-aquamarine glow of the Cleansing spell before Gray Fang splashed it over her head. The water magic made her shiver from ears to tail, but her eyes were much clearer when she opened them again and moved to start casting the same spell again over Rend, who was snoring in his seat.

  James watched her work in wonder, his jaw slack at the brilliance of it all. Of course. Alcohol was a poison, which meant it could be cleansed.

  He surged to his feet to try it on himself, but he was so drunk his first attempt fell apart. Eventually, though, the strands of magic came together, and he washed the poison out of his system.

  And immediately regretted it.

  Hangovers were nothing compared to becoming instantly and totally stone-cold sober. His head stopped spinning as though it had hit a wall, and his vision seesawed between sharp and blurry as the fatigue he’d forgotten about reasserted itself. After several moments of frantic blinking, his vision finally settled into a crisp black and white, which was very confusing until James remembered that all the fires had been put out. Real jubatus could see in almost complete darkness, so they didn’t bother with torches or lights in their village at night.

  The only color left was the light from the fire that was still burning in the great wooden lodge. Its orange-and-yellow light cut a swath of brilliance across the gray square. Since everyone important was heading in that direction, James followed, blinking as his eyes readjusted to the warm firelight inside.

  Inside the Naturalists’ lodge, a ring of hide-covered pillows had been set out around the fire along with
more sedate refreshments and lots of water. Looking around for where he was supposed to sit, James realized with a jolt that everyone in here was old except for him and Fangs. He couldn’t remember all of their names yet, but he recalled enough of his whirlwind tour around the fires to recognize that these were the elders and heads of the four major clans as well as those of the minor clans. He was still wondering what he should do when Rend caught his eye and tapped his claws on the pillow beside him.

  Obediently, James sat down on Rend’s left, while Fangs in the Grass got the right-hand pillow. James dearly hoped that left and right had the same significance in this culture as they did in his. Fangs didn’t seem upset, though, so James guessed that whatever the positioning meant, it was fine. The head warrior was not good at hiding his upset, particularly with slights against his honor.

  When they were all seated, Gray Fang cleared her throat and turned in his direction. “James,” she said loudly.

  “Yes, ma’am?” he replied reflexively. On the other side of their father, Ar’Bati winced, but Gray Fang didn’t bat an eye.

  “Ar’Bati has explained to me why you two invited the gnolls to come,” she continued. “I find his explanation…uncharacteristic. He uses too many of your words, so you will explain to the clans why we should do anything other than slaughter this Thunder Paw and use the chaos of his death to raze Red Canyon to the ground.”

  James gulped. All the slitted eyes in the room were on him now, and the friendliness of the party was gone, replaced with calculation. He was suddenly all too aware of how his new father, Rends Iron Hides, had countless scars marring his fur, and that he wasn’t the only one. All of the clan heads bore scars, but they still looked fit and eager to fight, their eyes gleaming golden in the firelight. A pointed reminder that he was sitting in a room full of predators.

  That was enough to terrify the human in him, but James had been living as a jubatus all night, and he managed to rise to his feet. He took a deep breath as he did, looking around the circle to meet each person in the eyes. It was a habit he’d developed back in college. As a political sciences major, he’d had to take multiple public speaking classes. He’d dropped out before he could use them, but he’d never been more grateful for those experiences than now, when the fate of an entire zone depended on him not screwing this up.

  “Thank you, Elder Gray Fang,” he said with as much polish as he could muster. “That’s a great question that cuts to the heart of the immediate threat Windy Lake now faces. To answer it, though, I must first explain the state of the savanna as it exists now.”

  It was going to be a brutal one. They’d defeated the lich at Red Canyon, but the gnolls were only one of multiple extinction-grade threats facing Windy Lake. That was the game’s fault. FFO had divided the world into zones, and each zone into quest hubs. To make things fun for players, the area around each quest hub was in a constant red-alert crisis by design. That way, players would have plenty of problems to “solve” as they played at being heroes. As a player himself, James had loved taking part in the epic and desperate struggles to save overwhelmed towns or outposts that needed his help. Now, though, there were no more questing players, which meant all of those game-created problems would be rapidly spinning out of control.

  With no more over-powered players running around fixing things as fast as they could for loot and experience, the whole world could be falling into chaos, and that wasn’t even counting the Once King’s upcoming attack on Bastion. The game hadn’t even gotten to that part of the expansion plot yet, but everything else was in full swing, and if they didn’t do something about it, it was all going to swing right into them.

  Mentioning all of that would just start the player-hate up all over again, though, so James decided to keep it local, starting with the most immediate problems Windy Lake was likely to face.

  “For example,” he said, “if you travel twenty miles down the west trade road, you’ll find a collection of burned wagons that used to belong to the Crazy Schtumple Brothers.”

  All the elders immediately began to mutter about “thieving Schtumples,” and James paused to let the grumbles quiet down.

  “As I was saying,” he went on, “these brothers had an amulet, which I assume is still in their carts, that they acquired by accident. This amulet is cursed with terrible luck for the owner, and they were desperate to get rid of it. If a knowledgeable Naturalist were to accept this amulet, they’d find that the gem inside is actually a compass that points to a spot by the Northern Oasis where there’s an ancient cave that was sealed long ago to trap a fledgling Bird. Not a normal bird. I’m talking a giant, dangerous, ‘from the Age of Skies’ kind of Bird. Now, recently, borers have moved into this cave and begun recklessly mining. At some point very soon, they will accidentally puncture the Bird’s prison. Once freed, the Bird will enslave them all to feed its ravenous hunger, quickly growing into a menace that no one here will be able to stop.”

  “Lies!” cried an old, white-furred jubatus elder. “We would know if such danger existed on our lands! This is clearly made up!”

  James had been so focused on mentally organizing and delivering his speech that he jumped at the sudden outburst. His rhythm broken, he shot a panicked look that happened to land on Gray Fang.

  For once, she came to his aid. “What he says is true,” she said grudgingly. “As a former player, James has unmatched knowledge of the world’s situation.”

  That was a lot more support than James had ever expected from the perpetually disapproving elder. He also found it interesting that she’d called him a former player. He bet that was how she was dealing with him joining the village. She’d never accept a player, but a former player was a different matter. Or at least, that was what he hoped.

  Gray Fang’s words were backed by the nodding of Rend Claw Born, Storm of the Water Born clan, and Ar’Bati. All the jubatus who’d been in the Nightmare understood that James was describing a quest. Unfortunately, the part of the room who’d missed the Nightmare didn’t even understand what a quest was, which prompted a round of demands that James explain how he got his information and what it had to do with Forever Fantasy Online.

  “All in due time,” James promised, holding up his hands. “But the Bird in that cave isn’t the point. Preventing it from waking is actually very easy. Someone just needs to wear an antelope skull with a candle on it on their head. This disguise will let them trick their way into an audience with the borer prince in charge of excavating the cave and explain the situation. The prince isn’t evil. He just wants a nice cave for his people to live in. Once you lay out the right incentives, he’ll even agree to guard the Bird for you in exchange for getting to stay in the cave, no fighting required.”

  By the time he finished, the elders looked more confused than ever. Confused and angry, and James rushed to get to the point.

  “This is just one of many, many new crises that exist in the savanna,” he said. “There are at least thirty other completely different but equally dangerous situations going on in the lands directly surrounding Windy Lake. There were more, but taking out the undead in Red Canyon took care of a lot of them. The point of all this, though, is that we’re not just facing one problem with one solution. Every dark corner and forgotten watering hole in the savanna has some kind of threat growing in it.”

  He started counting off on his fingers. “There are bandits with dangerous artifacts, necromantic cults corrupting animals, and one of the boneyards in the south has been taken over by the spirits of the angry dead. Every old evil or buried problem you can name from your history is on the verge of being unsealed, resurrected, or stumbled upon by some cultist, misfit, anarchist, or criminal. Unless we act quickly and decisively, all of these disasters will be out of control within the week, and chaos will engulf the savanna.”

  “If that’s the case, then we must appeal to the king for help,” Storm of the Water Born said.

  “The king can’t help you,” James replied quickly.


  “Why not?” demanded the warrior. “We Four Clans are Bastion’s oldest allies! The king’s ancestors swore that the Royal Knights would come to our defense in times of crisis!”

  “The knights can’t come, because your situation in the savanna is not unique,” James said bleakly. “Every zone, town, village, outpost, settlement, farm, and island in the entire world is facing their own version of this exact same problem. They’re all just as outmatched as you are and desperately holding together in the hopes that someone will come and save them. When FFO was a game, that someone was the players. Now, there’s no one.”

  James reached down for his bag containing the lich’s letters. “And there’s another reason Bastion can’t come to your rescue. The royal city is about to be invaded by the Once King’s armies. The lich in Red Canyon wasn’t an isolated incident. The Once King seeded the entire world with his operatives, and they’ve been building him an army on a global scale. When the Once King gives his command, that army will teleport into the Room of Arrivals at the center of Bastion and tear the city apart from the inside out. I don’t know when exactly, but I have ample proof that it will happen soon. The jubatus are some of the king’s oldest and most loyal allies, which is why I need your help. I must get this information to Bastion as soon as possible to make sure they’re ready to defend against the attack.”

  “But you can’t leave now,” one of the minor clan heads said. “You’re the only one who knows about these ‘quests.’ You just told us how outnumbered we are. How can you leave us alone?”

  “Because you won’t be alone,” James said with a smile. “The jubatus of Windy Lake aren’t the only ones who want to save the savanna. The gnolls of Red Canyon also want to make a home here, and that’s why you need to make peace. The undead trained them into a formidable army to use against you. Now that Ar’Bati and I defeated the lich, though, they’re free of his influence and a powerful potential ally. They have the logistics and strength you need to stand a chance against what’s coming. The Four Clans have great warriors and unequaled ferocity, but you’re not prepared for a protracted battle of this magnitude. The gnolls are. They can help you.”