Crisis at Clearwater - A LitRPG Virtual Fantasy Adventure (Book 2 Unexplored Cycle)

by Alara Branwen

  The broth was almost rancid, and Cleave nearly spit it up. He swallowed it and made a face. Warmth flooded through him and the throb in his muscles receded. When he finished, most of the weariness from his trip in the woods was gone.

  Kurkmud neatly moved a stack of papers from one of the chairs and sat down. “You mentioned something about Old Elvish. Do you have a document or something that needs deciphering, or perhaps you came to talk about the evolution of the Elvish language. Fascinating subject I could talk about it for hours. I-”

  Cleave quickly handed the diary over to the troll, who carefully took it in his long fingers. Kurkmud’s eyes grew wide when he read the cover.

  “This journal belonged to Veluthial, king of the Lren, well, chieftain now. His title was diminished after the fall of the elves. Is there anything particular you want me to look for?”

  The party told him about the quest for the Ring of Treesoul. At the mention of this, Kurkmud began to gush about the ring and the many feats of heroism that Devdan accomplished with it. The troll recounted these things as he looked through the book and made notes on a scrap of parchment. Cleave looked up and noticed the troll was writing over some notes that were already made.

  Cleave was very interested in the stories Kurkmud told. What was particularly interesting to him was the fact that the ring allowed its wearer to turn into a tree or control the spirits of trees. The troll went on at length about the many exciting things that could be done with such magic. While he found it fascinating, he noticed that Krug and Tarka’s eyes had glazed over.

  After going through the entire journal Kurkmud shrieked, “Eureka!”

  This outburst shook the half-giant and the kobold back to full consciousness.

  “What is it?” Cleave said.

  “If my notes are right, and with my knowledge of old Elvish I’m certain they are, this diary tells of a hidden tomb where Devdan was buried along with the ring you seek,” Kurkmud said as he stroked a couple of hairy warts on his chin.

  “Some of these runes on this page here,” he pointed to a page toward the end of the book, “that are actually a detailed map of where the tomb is. If I drew in a few lines, connecting the dots if you will, I can create a map for you that you can read.”

  “Where is the crypt?” Cleave said.

  “I would be happy to tell you, however this information will come at a price.”

  “Name it,” Krug said.

  “Two gold.”

  “We’d be happy to pay you, but we don’t have that much,” Krug said.

  “That is a shame. Well, perhaps we could work on another arrangement.” The troll's eyes travelled over the tight leather Tarka wore. “It does get a bit lonely out here in the woods.”

  Tarka stood and stretched out her body. Kurkmud seemed fascinated by the kobold’s generous curves. She turned and lifted her tail to give him a good view of her bountiful butt.

  “Tell me historian, what was your name again?” Tarka said.

  “You know well what it is, it’s Kurkmud. Why would you even ask?”

  “Because, I want to know what I’ll be screaming later when you pin me down to that table and take me.”

  Something jumped in his dark green breeches. He straightened his sackcloth shirt and cleared his throat.

  Tarka smiled at her friends. “Would you boys mind stepping out? Mister Kurkmud and I have some business to take care of.”

  Tarka shot a searching glance at Cleave.

  “Sure, I don’t mind,” Cleave said. His voice was calm but acid bubbled in his stomach.

  Krug rose silently and they both walked outside. The door shut behind them.

  SIX

  Krug walked away to the edge of the clearing and looked through his inventory. He asked Cleave if he was coming and he said he was, but his feet stayed rooted at the door. The half-giant waited for him to follow, but after a few moments he left the elf to his own devices.

  Cleave listened to the thumping and the moans coming from behind the door. Acid curdled in his stomach. His cheeks flushed red.

  Cleave’s member jerked into his pants as he listened to the kobold get it from another male. They talked about this before and he agreed that her sleeping with other males in the game didn’t bother him. He honestly didn’t think it would. But hearing her pleasured screams and telling the troll he was “massive” made him react in ways Cleave hadn’t predicted.

  The sound of the kobold’s moaning rose in volume and pitch. The pounding grew heavier. Cleave reached down and stroked his hardening cock through his breeches.

  Kurkmud was probably pinning Tarka down on that table, railing her mercilessly, slamming his massive troll member into her.

  Cleave’s world spun and he increased the intensity of his rubbing. He had the urge to throw open the door, rush the troll and punch him. He wanted to rip his hands away from Tarka, toss him to the ground and kick him until he stopped moving.

  The elf squeezed his member. Yes, that’s what he’d do, and when he was done he’d gut him with his sword for good measure. Information be damned, they’d just find the ring the other way.

  He heaved a breath through his throat. From the sounds they were both making, Kurkmud was pleasuring the kobold well. He’d kill to take Tarka like that.

  Cleave was mad. He was furious. The rage he felt was palpable.

  He was…also more excited than he’d been in a long time. Rage wasn’t supposed to make you feel woozy and a little bit elated. It wasn’t supposed to make you feel a burst of excitement when another male made the girl you liked moan.

  The consternation faded from Cleave’s face and was replaced by wonder. What was he feeling? Why did he like this so much? Yes, he admitted it to himself. He wasn’t feeling rage at all, he was just aroused, very, very aroused, and he didn’t understand it.

  The elf pulled himself away from the door and the sounds that brought him to the edge of ecstasy. Why did that get him all excited? Cleave leaned against a tree behind Krug and let his erection die down. Ice crawled up his stomach as he tried to figure out what he was feeling. What was this? Was it normal?

  His thoughts turned to Mary, the real Mary, getting laid by some guy, then Mary watching him doing it with another woman. His erection was peaking again. He shook it from his mind. Cleave resolved to sorting his thoughts out later. They had an important mission to complete.

  Loud noises stopped coming from the hut twenty minutes later. Tarka emerged with the book and a parchment in hand. She waved to the troll and closed the door behind her.

  “Have fun?” Cleave said, a strained smile on his face.

  Tarka gave a wan smile back and looked at her feet. “Uh, yeah. Kurkmud drew out the map to the crypt in the journal. It’s not too far away, only a couple of miles. When we log tomorrow we should be able to get there without much trouble.”

  Awkward conversation passed between the three. Cleave kept thinking about Tarka’s encounter with Kurkmud. He kept the feelings and emotions he felt listening to them on the edge of his mind.

  Cleave had a wistful look on his face as he heard the loud and long moans Tarka made. The kobold looked at him and frowned. The elf knew his friend was worried and he wanted to say something, but it the idea of saying it in front of Krug made the ice return to his stomach. He’d just hold onto the thought for now. He was sure the kobold would bring it up eventually.

  Besides, him feeling this way without Tarka knowing gave the whole thing an illicit thrill.

  The elf did his best to keep up polite conversation, but he found it hard to talk without feeling embarrassed or strange. Things drug on and eventually he just sat quietly while Tarka and Krug talked about their mission. The kobold threw worried glances his way. He wanted to say something to allay her fears, but the words wouldn’t come.

  The conversation carried on for a few painfully long minutes before Cleave found an opportunity to politely excuse himself and log off.

  Clint removed his VR headband and stared at th
e veiny paint lines on his apartment ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing before drifting to sleep.

  SEVEN

  Another day inside the gates of hell.

  Clint corrected the error on the spreadsheet on his holoscreen and hit save. The phone rang just as three help request holos popped up over his desk, and he sighed. Ever since three members of the marketing department had been let go, their entire team relied on him to supply the information they normally did. He had more help requests from his coworkers than he’d ever had in his short career at Madeline’s, the grocery store chain whose main office he’d worked at.

  The constant barrage of help requests from coworkers however couldn’t keep his mind from the game world. Events from the day before still whirled in his mind, and an icy ball tumbled through his stomach. The quest and his group’s part in it weighed heavily on his mind, but the worst was how he kept remembering Tarka’s encounter with Kurkmud. Clint had seen his reaction to it and probably thought he was upset with her.

  He wasn’t, of course. They’d cleared that hurdle a long time ago. Clint wanted to tell her why he was feeling the way he was but he didn’t want the kobold, or her real life counterpart Mary, to think he was some kind of freak and not talk to him again. He wouldn’t play Unexplored again if that happened. In fact, he probably wouldn’t want to do much for a very long time.

  Clint’s brain was full of confusing thoughts and impulses, and the work day from hell wasn’t helping.

  He sent the spreadsheet off to one coworker and picked up the ringing phone. A frightened voice was on the line. She had a meeting in fifteen minutes and all of her information had gone missing from her spreadsheet. She sent it to him and found that she had somehow hidden all of the data and set the spreadsheet language to Swahili. He fixed the problems just in time for her meeting and was greeted by the sight of more help requests floating around his desk.

  The phone rang again. Clint’s temples pounded and the blood vessels in his forehead felt like they were going to burst. He picked up the phone, it was his boss.

  “Clint, how are you doing my man?” The voice of Roger Whitaker was as cheery as ever.

  “A bit busy, sir. But I’m hanging in,” Clint said as he rushed through the ever expanding number of help requests popping up over his desk. “How can I help you?”

  “I just wanted to tell you that starting tomorrow, I’ve got a month off. My family and I are vacationing in the Bahamas and I’m gonna need you to pick up a little extra slack. A few reports and some calculations I go through for the CEO, shouldn’t be an issue.”

  Clint tried not to imagine how nice sunbathing would feel on a nice beach. “I should be able to swing that. I’m sure I can get the info I need from accounting and finance.”

  “Ah, that will be a no go. The whole department has the week off next week and a few of marketing will be out too, so I’ll have to ask you to take on some of that.”

  Clint gritted his teeth. He’d asked for a vacation and it’d been denied. His blood boiled but he kept his composure. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

  “I knew I could count on you, ‘preciate it.”

  “Hey boss, did my request for a raise go in yet.”

  “It did, and I’m sorry to say it was denied. We’re still undergoing cuts and the market for your position is really competitive. So, prices are low. I couldn’t convince the budgeting team to give you a raise when the market is in it’s current state.”

  “Okay sir, thank you for checking.”

  Several more requests popped up over his desk.

  “No problem. Keep it up Clint, you’re a regular machine.”

  Phone cords were a thing of ancient history, but Clint imagined wrapping one around his boss’s neck and strangling him with it.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  There was a click on the other end of the line, and with a sigh Clint went back to his help requests.

  It was ten o'clock at night before Clint was able to leave his office. The adrenaline that pumped through him was long gone, and now he was left running on fumes. He drug himself toward his car when he heard his phone go off.

  Without looking at the screen he put it to his ear.

  “Yes,” He said with an exasperated sigh.

  “Clint?”

  Mary’s familiar voice came from the other end. All of the built up frustration was pushed aside and Clint responded as calmly as he could manage.

  “Hey Mary, sorry about that. Work and -boss and - yeah, frustrating.”

  “I called because you weren’t in game and I wondered what was wrong.”

  “I didn’t mean to hold you and Krug up. I wanted to make sure I finished all my work this weekend so we could focus on adventuring.”

  “I’m trying to do the same thing. Hey, I wanted to go out this weekend but I have to take this stupid test to see if I’m brain dead or not. Mind if you help me study?”

  Clint’s perception of things quickly brightened. The idea of studying over the weekend didn’t seem like a fun one, but if it was with Mary, the experience would be worth it.”

  “Sure,” Clint said.

  “Awesome. Hey let’s get together tomorrow morning. We can go over some stuff and I’ll order up some pizza.”

  “Okay, I’ll hurry home so you and Krug won’t be kept up.”

  “Alright later, and thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  Clint placed the phone in his pocket and walked toward the car with a spring in his step. He was bursting with energy.

  EIGHT

  Cleave appeared in the clearing in front of Kurkmud’s cabin where he left Krug and Tarka yesterday. The kobold was leaning against a tree with her feet up on a falling log. Their half-giant companion wasn’t there.

  “Hey Cleave, you good to game tonight?” Tarka said.

  Exhaustion wormed its way through his VR body. The combination of his stress from the real world and from their travels was starting to get to him, but they were getting close to the ring now and he was excited to get started.

  “Course, I’m ready for a distraction after the day I had. Where Krug?”

  “He’s away for the moment. Hey Cleave, before we get started, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Cleave sat by Tarka and leaned against the tree like she did. “Sure, what’s up?”

  Tarka saw the worry on Cleave’s face. “I wanted to talk to you a little bit about yesterday. About, you know, with Kurkmud.”

  Hot thrills rushed through Cleave. “What about it?”

  “After what I did with him, well, I noticed you were acting strange.”

  Cleave wasn’t fast enough to hide the shock on his face. “I was?”

  Tarka looked down and away. “Yeah, you were. You were really quiet and kind of acting like something was wrong. Kind of like that time with the shopkeeper and those potions.”

  Cleave’s stomach churned. She knew didn’t she. Tarka knew how he felt and it was making her feel awkward. The elf felt another bout of excitement coming on when he remembered how the kobold pleasured a merchant so she could get adventuring supplies for their first adventure. He pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time to get randy.

  The kobold sighed. “I know you probably don’t want to discuss this, but it’s something we have to get out in the open. We talked about this before but, that was before you knew I was me.”

  “I know.”

  “What I need to know right now is if this is going to be a problem. I like having sex in game with other characters, PC and NPC, and I need to know if you’re still going to get jealous each time it happens. If you do, I don’t think we can adventure together anymore.”

  Those final words visibly stung Cleave. Tarka bit her lower lip.

  “Cleave, I need to know. I love adventuring with you but, I want to have fun playing this game, too. We can still hang out in real life.”

  There was an internal war raging inside of Cleave. His face screwed up. He wanted to tell her the
truth, but at the same time he didn’t understand it. How would she react? What would she think? Finding it erotic in the game was one thing, but he had a feeling that it went beyond that. He feared she’d never speak to him again, in or out of game, and that was something he couldn’t stand.

  Tarka looked up at him. “Cleave.”

  Cleave rested his hand in his palm. “I - I uh,”

  Tarka turned away from him. She shuddered a little.

  This was bothering her more than Cleave thought it would. The elf sighed to himself and closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand to see her like that. He was weird, but the idea of it possibly bringing his friend to tears wasn’t worth keeping it a secret.

  Tarka looked at Cleave again, her gaze steely. “Cleave, I don’t want this but -”

  “I’m fucked up,” Cleave exclaimed, interrupting her.

  “What?”

  “I think I’m fucked up.” Cleave hugged himself. “I w- wish I could say I was just jealous but I uh-”

  “You?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Tarka’s face brightened. “You weren’t? Then what’s the problem? Why are you fucked up?”

  “I don’t really get it either, because when we had that big orgy with our friends I didn’t get like that.”

  “Get like what?”

  “I was uh- when I listened to what that troll was doing to you, plowing you like it was the end of the world I- I loved it. I wanted to see him fuck you, actually watch him rail you until you couldn’t move.”

  Tarka smiled. “Oh, that’s good. But I’m still not seeing why this is bothering you.”

  “Because I think the real me was turned on about you having that done to you.”

  Tarka leaned back a little. “Like, me-me?”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure. I didn’t think about the real you at the time, but if it did,” Cleave could feel his body reacting at the thought and he cringed, “I don’t know if I want to think about it.”

  The kobold placed a hand on his elbow.

  “I don’t know what to make of it,” Cleave said.