by Matt Ryan
The bandit I struck pleaded for mercy as he backed away from me, badly wounded from my first strike. I did one final thrust on the guy and got the kill.
Good Job! Bandit Ash is Dead.
145 Damage
+ 45 XP
Congratulations! Level 3 Unlocked:
+ 5 attribute points
+ 2 points in spear proficiency
Hell yes, another level. I scanned the forest. If there were any more bandits, they seemed to have fled.
Gor called for help, as he continued to pull against his trap.
Killian and I each took a side of the trap, opening it long enough for Gor to get his foot out. We let go and the trap snapped shut.
“Thanks,” Gor said as he sat on the ground, inspecting his leg. A gash bled on both sides, and he looked a bit paler. “For a moment, I thought you were going to abandon us, Mago.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging like that.” I inspected my bleeding shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks,” KILLian said. “You did hesitate though.”
“Was just trying to come up with a tactic,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, not sounding convinced.
“Come on, let’s get going,” I said. “We need to stay on the road from here on out.”
“Wait, you guys are bleeding. I bet you’re dropping health right now,” KILLian said. “I picked up a first-aid kit back at the store. Let me at least get the bleeding to stop.”
My HP was slowly falling. I was indeed dying. It might take a while, but I bet it would just keep dropping as long as I was bleeding.
Gor and I sat on the dirt road and watched KILLian place white bandages across both our wounds. My HP stabilized at 183.
“Ha, I just leveled for healing,” KILLian said.
“That’s not a shock. You’re a girl, it’s your job,” Gor said and slapped me on the shoulder with a smile. I did not reciprocate his attempt at bro-dissing KILLian.
“Screw you.” She tossed the bandages to him. “You can heal yourself next time.” She stormed down the dirt road toward the city.
“What? It was just a joke.” Gor got to his feet.
We headed back down the road at a jogging pace and we all agreed to not let any road-side distractions stop us. Along the way, a middle-aged woman frantically called out for help, saying her child was missing. And if it wasn’t for the near-death experience with the bandits, we might’ve helped her.
She cursed at our backs as we jogged by, screeching that we were heartless assholes.
There went their E rating.
During our hasty exit from that possible trap, I swore I saw a pair of golden eyes in the shadows of the forest, but they were gone when I blinked.
“What do you think happens when we die? You know, away from the angel of resurrection?” KILLian asked.
“I don’t know, but all these games have consequences with death. Maybe we drop a level, or have to pay half our gold,” I said.
“You guys play Drinkers Pines?” Gor asked.
“No.” KILLian shook her head.
“Yeah,” I said, knowing where he was going.
“In that game,” Gor explained, “a death meant you started over. Not just like running back to your body, but all the way back to level one.”
“Harsh,” KILLian said. “We better not die then.”
We kept jogging and just as the forest on either side of the road started fading into grasslands, we came upon a great wall and gate blocking our entrance into the city. For the first time, I saw other players near the walls. They were on some kind of quest and picking stuff off the ground near the forest’s edge. Their jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies made them stand out. One woman had on a sheet with a piece of cord holding it against her.
Two guards flanked the large wooden door.
Gor approached the guards at the gate with a bow-legged walk and chest pumped out. “Hello, fair guardians of thine gate.” He used his hands in wide gestures as he spoke. “We would like to formally request entrance upon your auspicious city.”
“What?” the guard asked as he adjusted his pointy helmet.
“We have traveled far and wide,” Gor said, continuing to speak as if he was a king addressing his court. “And thy legs are sore, and our stomachs are barren, but the sight of this fair city raises thine hearts so we might continue our journey.”
“Were you dropped on your head as a kid?” one of the guards asked as he leaned on his halberd, while the other snickered. They both wore thin plate-armor and held a long halberd in one hand.
“Don’t mind my friend,” KILLian said. “His parents were exposed to the gas fallouts of ‘57. So, what do you say, can we get in, fellows?”
“For a pretty thing like you, we’d be honored to have you in our city. No fighting or criminal activity is allowed, especially you.” He gestured to me. “We’ll be watching you.”
I looked at myself, thinking I had a sign that marked me as an asshole, but then realized it was the evil points. It must be part of the game mechanics, the more evil you had, the more people would distrust you. I’d have to be careful not to get any more.
The two guards opened the large wooden doors and we entered the city.
Brayer City, Capital of Realm One.
Non-PvP zone.
The noises came to life as we walked inside the gates. The bustle of people hurrying along the stone roads, and workers carrying various wares in carts and on their backs. I saw a couple of players who stood out in their modern attire among the NPCs, who were in clothes that weren’t quite medieval clothes, but not modern either. I spotted some in cloth pants, while others were in cotton-looking T-shirts with logos that looked like a family crest. The majority wore what I’d describe as a mash of fancy Victorian-era garb, with a mixture of military and peasant clothing.
The city had a smell to it; a mixture of ocean, fire, and body odor. Most of the NPCs ignored us, save an occasional glance. The guards, however, never seemed to be too far away, and they did pay attention to me. Some even gripped their weapons as we walked by.
The buildings were mostly white with plastered walls. Farther down the street, a few smatterings of polished marble stood out. On the walls, light fixtures appeared to have light bulbs in them. I half expected to see a car come driving down the road with a horse and buggy right behind it.
“Odd mix,” I said mostly to myself.
“It seems low tech. My guess is there’s a human fantasy element mixed with modern tech, but only where it suits them,” KILLian said.
“Like a flashlight with batteries,” I said. “I bet most of these people wouldn’t even know what a battery is.”
A man wearing a green suit walked up to us with a big smile. I put my hand up, stopping what I knew was coming. But this did little to stop his approach; he looked to the side and around my defense.
“Young man, I know you’re a traveler, but have you no manners?”
“He’s sorry,” KILLian said. “What is it that you need?”
“You look to be the adventurous type, and I was wondering if you could go into the forest and retrieve some mushrooms.”
A quest option popped up in front of me, but I swiped it away.
“No, I don’t want your stupid quest,” I said. “Can you tell me where Tommy’s Inn is located?”
-5 Charisma
Goddammit. Can’t a man just be direct about getting business done?
The man was slightly taken aback, but continued with a smile. “There is a much nicer place on the upper side of town. You mention my name at the door and you can get a ten percent—”
“Listen, maybe you didn’t hear my friend here,” Gor said. “He wants to know where Tommy’s Inn is, so you either tell him or bugger off.”
“See if I offer you a discount ever again, Gorgon the Tard.” The man begrudgingly looked at me. “It’s right down Third Street, you can’t miss it from the smell.” He walked off in a huff.
Gor looked at the sp
ace in front of him and I could tell he was reading a text box. He swiped it away in anger. “I just lost points with the Merchant clan. What the hell is the Merchant clan anyway?”
“I don’t know, but if you guys want to do your own thing, I get it. Either way, I need to go to the Inn.”
“We’re with ya, Mago,” Gor said.
“I think it’s a good idea that we stick together for now,” KILLian said. “That piece of paper you got. It said to go to this Inn, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. Just some private quest thing the game’s giving me.”
“Private quest thing?” she said, trying to seem less interested than she was.
A woman walked up wearing a white dress with a fair amount of dirt near the bottom, and a white hat that had lost about three of the four pins holding it onto her head. With puffy eyes, she locked in on Gor. “My child, have you seen him? Where is he?” She grabbed onto Gor and he staggered back with his hands up.
“I don’t know, lady.”
“The Spider Queen took him.” She pointed to the island across the bay. “She’s a plague on this city, stealing our children and turning them into spiders.”
“My fair lady, you are as distressed as a headless chicken. I, Gorgon the Tardis God, will bequeath my powers upon said Spider Queen, cutting her in twain,” Gor said with a slight bow of his head.
“What? My boy, he went into the forest and hasn’t returned. The Spider Queen has dark magic. She took him. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Doth thy want to present me with a quest, so I may renounce my party and rid this Spider Queen from your offspring’s path?”
She looked at him quizzically. “What are you talking about, do you remember my missing child?” She moved to KILLian and I. “Are you guys his handlers? Maybe you can help?”
“Mom, I’m over here,” a kid called out.
The woman spun around and let out a cry of joy. She laughed and ran to her child, lifting him up in a tight hug.
“What the hell was that?” Gor asked.
“Mission plant,” KILLian explained. “They use them in games all the time. Something to pique our interest. Like, come on, we’re really going to go off and kill some Spider Queen at the whim of some woman who can’t keep an eye on her own—”
“I will kill that Spider Queen if it’s the last thing I do!” Gor declared in a booming voice, hand raised, as he turned in a slow circle. “It will be glorious, and this town shall give me a parade, chanting my name.”
He elicited a few looks, but none were of admiration.
“Gorgon the Tard! Gorgon the Tard!” KILLian chanted and I laughed with her.
“You’ve spent too much time in RP servers, haven’t you Gor?” I asked.
RP servers were a role-playing area where players kept to a strict code of conduct. Once in, players couldn’t deviate from their characters, and would act out the part to the bitter end. They were okay, and I played in them for some laughs, but the RP players would never pay a person like me to help them. That would be breaking a fourth wall for them.
“Maybe I have spent some time on RP servers, so what? Maybe elsewhere, my name demands respect, not ridicule. The second we log out, I’m writing an email to V Corp., demanding a name change.”
“I like your name,” KILLian said. “For real.”
“Hey,” Gor said, “I bet this Spider Queen bitch drops freaking epic shit. And the battle could be kick ass. We should try to get a quest to her.” Neither KILLian nor I responded. “If you guys aren’t into this shit, why are you even playing?”
KILLian lowered her head. “Sometimes we play for a more than shiny loot,” she whispered.
“I’ve got a job to complete first, but then, I’m right there with ya, man,” I said, trying to deflect the awkwardness of KILLian. She was hiding something. Too bad I didn’t have time to figure out what it was. If she wanted to tell me, then she’d bring it up. At this point, I wasn’t going to pry it from her.
Another woman looking distraught started to approach us but I jogged away from her before she could speak. KILLian and Gor kept up with me, and I headed to find the very person behind all of this. My heart raced as I began to think of what they could possibly want from me to warrant such an expense.
Chapter Eight
The man in the green suit had been right about the smell. Just standing outside of Tommy’s Inn, it reeked of beer, sweat, and cooked meat.
We entered the double swinging doors. The insides were decorated in wood from top to bottom. The beams, the floors, the tables, the bar, and the ceiling, all made of a similar densely grained wood.
Where the people on the street seemed to dress in more fancy attire, the people inside Tommy’s Inn wore heavy linens dyed dark colors and held wooden mugs. They glanced at us with dirty faces.
Most of them kept to small groups of three or four, all but grunting at each other for communication. They all seemed to be having a good time. The laughter in the place was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile as we walked past all the happy people.
Finding a person that worked in the establishment—let alone Tommy—became a difficult task. One woman carrying several beers ignored my inquiry and sat down at a table of men, laughing as she handed out the drinks. She might have been a waitress, but there wasn’t a uniform.
Wedging my way between a few men sitting along the bar, I got to a place where I could see the bartender. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Tommy,” I said loudly to the man behind the bar.
“Hey, Tommy, you got a traveler looking for ya,” called out the barkeep.
That was the second time I’d heard that phrase, Traveler, from an NPC. Odd for them to have slang for players.
A large man came up to me wearing a white button-up shirt and brown slacks. He had a round face that held about four days of scruff, and his blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail with a strap of leather. A dagger hung from each hip. The blades had a mirror-like finish on them, with pearlescent handles.
“Look at them too long and I’ll cut your eyes out,” Tommy said, flashing me a smile that said he was kidding, or not. I couldn’t tell.
“Tommy?” I asked and he nodded. “I’m here to see a mutual friend of ours, I was given this note.” I handed him the piece of paper, but he just crumbled it up and dropped it on the floor.
“Come with me,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll be right back,” I yelled to Gor and KILLian. KILLian glared at me and pushed some guy getting too close to her.
I followed him to the back hall and made it to a room with 103 on the door. He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. I looked at him, thinking there was more to it but he just stood there silently. I glanced into the empty room and took a step across the threshold. As I did, it felt as if I was crossing through a thin veil of pressurized air. As if there was an invisible line I had crossed. The sounds of the bar were gone as well. I looked back to see Tommy standing at the door, but the air had a shimmer to it. Tommy slammed the door.
In the room sat a single desk, with an empty chair behind it.
“Hello?” I called out.
A man appeared, sitting behind the chair as if he had just teleported there, right in front of me. He wore a dark gray cloak with a large hood covering most of his face. “Magoton, I take it?” he said with a soft voice.
“Yes, and I want to thank you for the generous hospitality—”
“I hired you because I’ve seen you in action. You treat other players fairly, when at all possible, and are a skilled player yourself.”
“Well, again, I appreciate what you’ve done.” My voice cracked and I took a deep breath. I’d rehearsed what I’d say once I met my benefactor, and in none of those situations did I start breaking up. “You have no idea how much you’ve changed my life, right at the moment it needed changing. Thank you.”
He looked up at me and I caught just his narrow chin in the light—fair-skinned and clean-shaven. It was hard to put it to
gether with the rest of his face that still resided in the shadows.
“You can thank me when this is over,” he said.
“So, what do you want me to do in this game?”
“Game?” he said and leaned back in his chair. “This is a game to end all other games.” He leaned forward and pointed at me. “Let’s start with loot. There are rare items attached to boss kills that I need.”
“Okay, so just a loot grab? Simple enough. What do you need specifically? I can get it for you,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.
“It’s not going to be simple.” He looked up. “In this world, there is an entity named Adam, and the moment you entered this game, you became his.”
“Adam, the dude with the plaid shirt, jeans, and a kicking problem?”
The man sat up straight in his chair. “You’ve met him?”
“Yeah, he greeted me at the starting point of the game. He knew things about me—things outside the game. He wondered if I'd be cheating in this game.”
“Interesting. We may have less time than I thought. There is a god in this realm, and if she is indeed watching you, she may notice you entering this room . . .” He took a long breath and the glint of his eyes appeared through the shadows. A set of brown eyes gazed at me with open concern.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“No offense, but what you’ve done for me in the real world is payment enough for me to do whatever you want in this game. I’m all in.”
“Listen,” he adjusted, as if uncomfortable, “I’m no saint here. You should know if you keep helping me, they may try and stop you—not only here, but in the real world. Perhaps more so in the real world. I have to at least warn you of the possible dangers at stake here.”
I frowned and wondered what the hell he was talking about. “Just tell me what you need.”
