by Sam Ferguson
Brian wasted no time. He knew if he waited then one of the guards might loot the beast first. He rushed in and seized the moment.
[+1 manticore hide]
[+1 manticore heart]
[+100 XP]
Not an overly impressive haul, but better than nothing. I bet Barry doesn’t have a manticore hide.
“Thank you, citizen,” one of the guards offered as he approached.
“You’re welcome,” Brian replied.
“We’ll be needing the armor and sword back now.”
Brian frowned. For a split second he thought of running. To buy replacements for the armor and sword would cost a small fortune. Then again, running from the guards with his Greencap reputation at zero might get him thrown out of the faction, which would cost him much more in the long run.
Brian doffed the armor, grimacing as he watched his armor rating drop back down to hardly anything. He then dropped the items on the ground, trying to ignore each message line that rubbed salt into his wounded pride.
“Your actions won’t be forgotten,” the guard said as he collected his fallen comrade’s items.
[Fezhik reputation +15]
[Greencap reputation +15]
Net positive ten reputation for Fezhik, Brian thought. And not a bad increase for the Greencaps either.
[YO, YOU COMING TO THE MEETING?—KOLVURIN]
Crap! Brian sent a message in response. [On my way. Just killed a manticore.]
[HAHA, YEAH RIGHT. Hurry up. Prof is waiting on YOU—Kolvurin]
[OMW]
Brian hustled through the streets back to the Drunk Imp Public House, glancing occasionally at his stamina bar and hoping it wouldn’t be an issue after one or two more level-ups. He entered the building as the sun beyond the town wall began to set and quickly climbed the stairs to the second-story room they had been led to yesterday.
Each member of the team was seated on either a simple wooden chair or a bed, even Mike. Brian noted that Barry’s gamer tag was concealed as he was proudly wearing his assassin armor, including the cowl. He scanned the walls quickly to locate his character’s tapestry and verify that the manticore kill had been recorded properly. If he needed to, he would direct the professor’s attention to it to explain his tardiness.
“Welcome to our gathering tonight, Brian,” Professor Rojas said with just a hint of a smile. “We’ve got plenty to discuss, so let’s get started.” He gestured to an empty chair in the back corner of the room and Brian quickly moved to it, casually cuffing Barry across the top of the head as he passed by his smirking face.
“I’ve got some exciting news to share with you,” the excitement in Professor Rojas’s voice was unmistakable. “I know that we’ve had only intermittent chatroom meetings over the past two weeks while I’ve been working to get Meredith and her equipment brought overland from Pucon and settle her at my site. Thanks to Mike and Rhonda for their assistance with that.” He nodded to each of them and gave a small clap in each of their directions.
Rhonda and Mike were working at the same location and were in charge of both using and safeguarding all the lab equipment and the couple of pack horses the team owned. They were also the only two at a site with running water and electricity tied into a grid. The two of them had made numerous trips to and from the nearest city with a small airport to transport Meredith and the donated equipment her employer had sent to Site 5, the name they still used in lieu of an official designation for the cave on the east face of Quetrupillan Volcano where the professor had been working. Their work there had only been going on since the spring, when the same earthquake which had taken out Route 199 had dislodged a significant amount of rock and debris from the mountainside.
Though initially thought to be a fresh fumarole, one of many that had been cropping up across the volcanic system over the last few years, the professor himself had tenaciously dug away at it to discover that it was as much an archaeological feature as a geological one—buried approximately 1,400 years ago when a pyroclastic flow covered the eastern face of Quetrupillan during its last eruption. Now it was on the verge of becoming one of the most exciting things to happen in South American archaeology since an earthquake nearly thirty years ago had revealed the existence of a temple within a pyramid in Cuernavaca.
Over their old chat system, Brian had heard about the massive amount of gear that had accompanied Meredith. He and Mike had also had an evening to chat about both the exciting new imaging equipment and the foul mouth and condescending attitude their new team member had brought with her when Mike had made the rounds on horseback last week to deliver headsets and new laptops with the gaming software installed.
Professor Rojas continued. “I’ve mentioned in our previous chatroom meetings that I had found what appeared to be the entrance to a secondary chamber here.” The professor paused dramatically. Brian moved to the edge of his seat and noticed his pulse quicken. Games were all well and good, but the thrill of discovery in the real world was what really drove him. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I think I have uncovered the location of the oracle.”
Gasps, exclamations of excitement, and a flurry of questions burst from every member of the group at once. After a few failed attempts from the professor to quiet the group, a sudden pulse of energy knocked them all lightly back in their chairs and made them gasp for air for a moment. Brian was confused for half a second before he noticed the spark of light in Meredith’s hand.
“Word warden,” Meredith said as she extinguished the spell. “Simple low-level spell for silencing a mage for two seconds, or anyone else talking who needs to shut up. You can find it in the green and gold book on the second shelf from the left in the tower at the end of the stairs around the corner from this room.”
Professor Rojas chuckled, “Thank you, Meredith. I share your excitement, team. This is exactly the thing for which I’ve been searching for over thirty years. My grandfather’s legend of the oracle that brought order to the Mapuche villages for over a thousand years and gave them the knowledge they needed to repel Incan dominance has haunted my imagination since I was a child. So many have told me that it was nothing more than that—the fanciful imaginings of a child. The truth behind the legend seems to be much more than even I might have dreamed though.”
Augustin was on his feet in a moment, “Professor Rojas, we have had many spirited discussions on this topic. I know your love for the tales spun by Lonko Kilapán, and while I admit the idea of a great oracle which provided wisdom to our people long ago is tempting…”
The professor cut him off, “Augustin, I’m not saying that I have found another Delphic Oracle. Amusing as I find the story of Spartan travelers, I consider this to be purely endemic to Auracania. Yes, my investigation was inspired by the idea of a volcanic vent emitting gasses that would influence the priest to prophesy, but what I have found is very different.”
Augustin seemed to be less than wholly convinced, but he took his seat and remained silent while the professor continued. “When I finally gained access to the chamber, I found it to be enormous, with a carved platform I presume to be for petitioners and an alcove with strange devices where I believe the oracle was thought to have dwelt.”
“What do you mean, ‘devices’?” Rhonda asked.
At this question, Professor Rojas paused and looked to Meredith. She cleared her throat and turned to address the group.
“I am creating a virtual model of everything the professor has found. There is some truly remarkable stuff here that I’m picking away at. I am also working to upload all of y’alls contributed information to a full rendering of the entire area. This is why you should all thank your lucky stars for my involvement. There are precious few people in this world who would be able to take your discoveries and turn them into a rendered world that could function like the one we currently find ourselves in. It will take time though, and to be honest this is only my second priority. My main objective is to get this world,” she gestured all around them, �
��running smooth as oil.”
Chris caught Brian’s eye and mouthed the phrase back to him with a confused expression, smooth as oil? The exchange wasn’t as subtle as he might have hoped, and Meredith’s eyes were quick to target them both.
“Shakespeare, you ignoramus,” Meredith quipped as though it was a completely normal thing to say. “And now, lest I lose that title of respect which is only paid to the proud,” she continued, presumably still quoting Shakespeare, “may I clearly explain that I can only be motivated to spend minutes on your project with advance payment of information regarding bugs you have located in the game. You all had time in-game yesterday and I’m sure you’ve managed to find play time today. What do you have for me?”
No one spoke up. Brian glanced to Barry, who supposedly had spent more time in-game than anyone else, but he only looked awkwardly to each of the others and shrugged when he caught Brian’s eye.
“Oh, come on people. While I don’t doubt that every string of code I’ve personally written is performing flawlessly, there were at least twenty other people at work on the programming here, and each one of them is bound to have screwed up at least once. What have you seen so far?” Her insistent tone and penetrating stare had each of them squirming in their seats.
“I noticed that my inventory only records harvested items from a portion of the plants in the city,” Rhonda offered tentatively.
“That’s likely the result of the randomized algorithm for success in a harvest. I’ll double-check, but I suggest you simply increase your skill level,” Meredith’s tone was more dismissive than thankful.
Without waiting for a reaction from Rhonda, she turned to Augustin with a laser-like focus, clearly waiting for feedback from him. Brian assumed she would expect something from each of them and began to wrack his brain for something to say. Everything had been pretty amazing so far. Things had run as expected, beyond expectation in fact, with a satisfyingly updated twist for most of the mechanics, including the HUD and menu. He only listened halfway as Augustin and then Chris stumbled through some simple observations they had made, just enough to clock how close he was to the moment those judging eyes would turn on him.
“What about you, Bob?” Meredith emphasized his in-game name with a hint of amusement that nevertheless left Brian sure she was being more condescending than friendly.
“There was a little awkwardness to the conversation with the elite assassin I met at the guildhall,” he offered lamely.
“What elite assassin?” Meredith asked, genuinely confused.
“Maybe that’s not what his rank is, but I mean the tall elf with the red cowl. He asked me about my name and where I came from. It wasn’t really clear how I was supposed to respond to the questions, so either the gestures or the wording might need to be rewritten.” Brian just wanted her to move along to Barry. Let her pick him apart, he thought.
She nodded vaguely and then went still for a moment. He assumed she was making a note to herself in a secondary system. When she perked up again, she simply commented, “That guildhall was under Felix’s supervision, so I can see how it might have some bumps to smooth out. What about you, Barry?”
Phew, finally!
“Well, I…” Brian was surprised to find Barry without criticism to offer. That usually was his forte.
“Listen, folks,” Meredith began with exasperation, “let me make this simple. Buy property, hunt monsters, put emphasis on trying to ingratiate yourself with the folks over at Panterra, follow the main questline. Those are the aspects of the game I know were overseen or programmed by the biggest jack—”
“Meredith,” Professor Rojas cut in firmly. “We talked about professional communication while on-site with us.” The professor had a no-tolerance policy for cussing, gambling, or any other “unsavory” behavior while employed by him. More than one student had been dismissed and sent home early every summer for being caught disrespecting the team or the locals in some way according to the professor’s rules.
Meredith exhaled dramatically and looked at Professor Rojas, “I’m sorry, Anton, I really am trying to use language you deem professionally appropriate,” the disdain in her voice was obvious, “but sometimes you just have to call a… spade a spade. Suffice it to say, some people on my team are more capable than others, and the… spades who were working on the monsters, the house-founding functions, Panterra, and the main questline are the ones I have the least faith in. That being said, there’s only one of me, and there are plenty of other game aspects I haven’t had the chance to inspect with a white glove for clean gameplay yet, so keep me apprised. Obviously fulfill your duties for the professor here, but don’t short me on my time.”
That seemed to be all she had to say. Meredith crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, evidently done.
“We have a lot of exciting material to comb through, team. I’d like to check in with each of you over the next couple of days, so keep an eye on the old chat system for invitations to counsel together on our new platform here. Yes, Augustin, I’ve already reserved time for you tonight,” he nodded to Augustin’s avatar, who had been fidgeting since the professor’s bombshell announcement. Brian knew that the results of the research they were all doing here meant more to Augustin that any one of the rest of them, maybe even more than the professor himself.
The professor had an interest in the work from an academic perspective. His own grandfather had made a name for himself recording oral histories from elderly representatives of the indigenous peoples of Chile and Argentina, preserving aspects of their language, traditions, and mythologies, but Augustin had actually grown up on a Mapuche settlement. His uncles had been injured and some of them jailed in protests thirty years ago, fighting for the return of indigenous lands. Augustin was a talented linguist and archaeologist, but more than that, he was with them as an official representative of Mapuche interests in the history that was being unearthed. The local counsels wanted to ensure that there was no “white spin” put on any of the papers written up about what was found here.
Everyone was breaking up and moving out, clearly aware that they needed to give some space for the professor’s conversation with Augustin.
“All right, I’m off to hunt bugs and monsters,” Chris said. He sprinted out the door before anyone could say anything back to him.
“Well, I may not have killed a manticore, but I have some fun assassin quests to follow through with,” Barry said. “I’ll be seeing you later, Brian.”
Brian shook his head. Whatever, he can’t go after me now that I’m a full Morr’Tai member.
Brian noticed Mike and Rhonda facing each other, evidently using the DM system. When they started to move toward the door, Rhonda beckoned for Brian to follow them out and down the stairs. Meredith moved to the save point and then disappeared.
He was on his way out when he realized with a jolt that he hadn’t saved since the assassin guildhall. He didn’t want to lose his level up or the XP from the fight with the manticore. He strode quickly to the save point and interfaced with it. His gamer ribbon appeared on the edge of the pedestal, alongside Meredith’s, the professor’s, and Chris’s. It seemed the others had most recently saved elsewhere in the game. Quickly saving, he rushed out of the room—it was time for him to head out and see more of the world.
6
Dungeon Diving
Brian found Rhonda and Mike seated at a table laden with food in the dining hall on the first floor. A variety of NPCs also populated the room, some engaged in conversation, some silently eating or repairing gear. A minstrel in the corner was singing a song in what sounded like an elvish language
“How long do you think we’ll need to wait before Augustin is willing to let Professor Rojas out of that conversation?” Rhonda asked as Brian took a seat next to them.
“It might be a while. Did you spend gold on all this?” he asked, indicating the variety of dishes on the table in front of them.
“Nah,” Mike said, “a ser
vant was on the way to the room as we were coming out. Gave us the option to have the food served for us in the dining hall instead. Looks like they refill the rations in that room every day.”
“What did you think about the meeting?” Rhonda asked, a significant tone to her voice.
“If the professor has really found the oracle, that would be amazing. I don’t think he is really considering that it’s part of some Hellenic overlord conspiracy though,” Brian shrugged as he moved some of the food items into his inventory.
“Is that what Augustin was talking about? I didn’t catch the reference to Spartan travelers.”
Mike leaned forward and raised his voice to answer over the sound of a spirited drinking song that had suddenly burst forth from a group of old sailors two tables away, “There’s some book out there from the seventies that purports to be the secret record of Mapuche mystical historians who have passed down an oral history of Spartans travelling through Asia and across the pacific thousands of years ago to colonize this part of Chile and mix with the local population.”
He paused for a moment as the three of them watched the minstrel loudly berate the drunken men for interrupting his own performance. After invoking Osei’s name and tossing a few final choice insults, the men cleared out, laughing hysterically as they walked through the door. The minstrel returned to his place in the corner and took up his performance again.
“It’s not much more than an urban legend,” Mike continued, “but I’ve heard it’s enjoyed some circulation in Greece. Augustin loves it when we joke that it was probably the other way around—that ancient Chileans carried the seeds of advanced culture across the pacific to inspire the Greeks.”
