by K. T. Hanna
Maybe he was evolving, maybe he was just mimicking, perhaps it was all another form of emulation. But he looked up and smiled at Thra, drinking in the envy in her eyes, and suddenly felt powerful.
Like he could change the world.
By force, if necessary.
Murmur blinked at the lineup, a strangely familiar figure standing at the fore. She wracked her brain, trying to remember where she’d encountered these bandits. She’d not even been aware that bandits could be a class, or whatever these were. Except, upon squinting she realized they weren’t players, these were non-player characters. Characters who’d apparently taken a dislike to Fable.
These were the bandits whose leader they’d defeated.
Lieutenant Gashik sent a plea to his men, one of whom will replace him. Your names are known, and the bandits have a long reach. Watch your backs.
The memory hit her like a punch to the face.
“Shit.” She hissed out between her teeth and backed away a few steps, her mind no longer lingering on the thoughts that consumed her moments ago, no longer preoccupied with what or who she was right then. Instead, she focused her skills on how they were going to survive fighting this troop of ten bandits at once.
Scanning the group as they slowly began to advance she realized that their lieutenant wasn’t with them. Maybe he hadn’t had time to respawn yet.
Lowering her voice so their opponents wouldn’t hear them, Murmur quickly outlined her plan. “Dan, once they’re in range, I need you to take the rightmost two. I’ll grab the left side as usual. We need two tanking groups and you’re both going to have to tank two at a time. I’ll grab the other two eventually. We’ll need to ward up.”
“Why are they our level?” Beastial dropped his tone to almost a whisper, his eyes and those of his cat, Shir-Khan, never leaving their approaching opponents.
“Because they hate us and wanted to make sure they could grind our bones into the dust?” Mellow grinned from ear to ear, an evil gleam in their eyes Murmur didn’t want to delve into.
“Probably.” Veranol shook himself and warded both tanks, as well as throwing a ward on Mur. The odds of her getting hit were just as high if she pissed them off too much, only she was squishy. “Let’s hope your plan works, Mur.”
She snorted, already focusing on her first target. A tingle ran through her body, a type of exhilaration she’d rarely felt before. This was real, as real as it could get for her. Her fingers shook at first, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. Fighting in a computer game was one thing, but her mind was actually here, and if she died, who knew what would happen to it.
One more breath and she squared her shoulders, pushing the fear to the back of her mind with a determination to play like her life depended on it. Maybe it did.
She released her Mez, timing it perfectly with Merlin’s shot. Adrenaline coursed through her as she instantly began to cast it again, stopping a second bandit in its tracks before the group reached them. Glancing to the side she noticed Devlish was using his shield again, bashing at the first incoming bandit and catching him directly in the face causing the bandit to stumble back, blood gushing from his nose as he regained its senses. It gave Dev enough time to reel in the second one while Mur Mez’d the last.
Turning to find her next target, she was surprised to see Exbo kiting a lanky female bandit around. It was a good thing the group had cleared the courtyard. It gave him room to maneuver the mob. He loosed a slowing shot at the bandit, and sped off ahead of her, stopping occasionally to riddle her full of arrows before repeating the volley again. Exbo’s aim didn’t appear to hit any critical spots, but even so, the mass of arrows hitting the bandit’s body whittled her health down. Probably painfully.
Murmur knew without looking that Sinister was probably seething with at least a little jealousy. She couldn’t blame her friend; it looked like fun to be a ranger.
Controlling and fighting a crowd this size was going to be challenging—and yet, exhilaration thrummed through her entire body. Murmur immersed herself into the combat and let the current carry her along. She watched the crowd of bandits from all vantage points she could, from behind her own casters and melee, commanding a strong view of the battlefield. It overlaid her vision, almost like it was on a grid, letting her pick and choose how to use her abilities to augment the group’s strengths and apply her own lethal kind of damage.
Sinister’s strong Blood Spores forcefully drained the blood from the bandits and back to the group, filling everyone’s health bars. Their bodies convulsed every time her healing transfers ticked over, and her occasional Blood Bomb made its familiar exploding squelch sound like a welcoming bell. She wove the spells deftly, glowing with her constant blood haze, and Murmur loved the way her and Veranol’s healing seemed to mesh perfectly. It was like the game intended a shaman and blood mage to work together this well. The shaman’s wards slotted into place, making sure their raid took virtually no damage as he juggled debuffing the bandits at the same time. Mellow concocted strange vials of smoky liquids and threw them at each bandit in turn, weakening every single one of them,
Rash’s dodging abilities made her move so fast she sometimes blurred. Murmur realized that the frequency Rash used it probably meant it was a hidden skill. Not able to be targeted obviously played perfectly into the monk’s strengths.
Shir-Khan roared and sunk his teeth into the back of his current target’s calves. His victim yelped and tried to shake the big cat off, only to have those ferocious teeth dig deeper into his leg. The damage wasn’t as much as it would have been had he aimed for the Achilles tendon, but it was still a solid DoT that ticked down, adding to the growing amount of life leeching away from the bandit. Beastial’s face held a feral snarl, a wild glint to his eyes as he cleaved the distracted bandit with his axes and didn’t even wait for the blood to rush to the surface of the deep wounds before he yanked his weapons out and moved on to the next.
Merlin fired arrows into his current targets while Exbo kited his bandit around. Slowing shots, rapid shots, and at one stage Merlin even loosed a fiery arrow to finish off the bandit they were currently facing. The arrow flew directly into his eye socket and exited, somehow still flaming, out the back of his skull. Blood exploded into the air, drawn, as if by a magnet, to Sinister’s already flowing lines of gore and showering brain matter all around it in a rain of carnage that almost made Murmur gag.
Shaking her head to clear the sight from her mind, Murmur catalogued the ranger’s skills. She had to know more about their hidden abilities so she could organize future attacks and raids in a more streamlined way. The only way to protect herself was to stop the wallowing and be her usual efficient self. She’d lost sight of that for a moment. She glanced around, her gaze resting on the group’s necromancer.
Havoc’s face was serious as he sent his skeleton into battle, draining life-force from the thugs into himself while his minion backstabbed the bandits when any let their guard down for even a split second. Together they piled up so many DoTs, it virtually crippled their targets. Reactions slowed. Attacks weakened.
Murmur was impressed with her guild’s power.
Adding her debuffs into the mix gave them such a huge advantage. A few days ago they’d been tiny and defenseless; they’d fought their first mini boss together, Liteutenant Gashik, who was probably still recovering from the beating they gave him. They’d battled together so much that they worked like a well-oiled machine. Her Mez, her buffs, her debuffs—all of them filled the cracks in their characters, in their attack and defense, and diminished the mobs they were facing.
“You’ll not take me alive!” One of the bandits yelled, a swarthy fellow with a red bandana around his head. He was human, and Murmur had to wonder how he made it all the way to Tarishna. A strange cone shaped tattoo stretched down his forearm from underneath the tunic he wore, and he dual wielded his swords with exceptional skill, def
ensively and offensively. But he wasn’t the boss either, just a lowly bandit.
“To be honest, it hadn’t crossed our minds either.” Devlish grinned and slashed with his axe through a sudden opening caused by the bandit’s outburst. The slash ripped across the bandit’s chest, opening a huge gash that spilled blood onto the earth below. His health began to dwindle rapidly and a couple of backstabs and a backbite from Leeroy and Shir Khan finished him off. The NPC looked so bewildered, so confused. His eyes opened wide, and he finally toppled to rest in an awkward heap at Dev’s feet.
“Well.” Dev wiped his axe off on the back of the bandit’s shirt, even as his feet squelched through the blood-soaked dirt. “I guess we really did piss them off.”
They surveyed the carnage around them. Murmur prodded one of the corpses with her toe, her mouth twisting in distaste. Blood stained the ground and had spattered onto most of their clothing. Only Havoc managed to keep himself blood-free, or perhaps his darker robe just hid the stains better.
“Bandits, eh?” Veranol ran a rough hand through his mane of hair and glanced back at the group. “I guess this faction thing is no joke then. This could get interesting.”
“I wonder if there are branches of bandit government. Or alliances.” Rash grinned, propping herself up next to Havoc on the outside wall.
The necromancer frowned. “Not sure, but apparently they’re willing to find us even when we’re half a day’s travel away. I wonder how far they’re willing to go. How far does the AI take this?” His eyes were hidden by the shadows of the castle’s eaves, and Murmur couldn’t even guess at the thoughts running through his head. But they were probably similar to her own. The extent of the vendetta was fascinating.
She shook her head to clear the odd thoughts running through it. After her near implosion earlier on Mikrum Isle, even maintaining her own shielding was beginning to wear on her. While she knew that refusing to use her abilities was a waste, and dangerous, she couldn’t help the insidious whispers in the back of her mind questioning just how much of her was real, and how much was the game, and perhaps, just how much of her would never leave this place.
Scowling, she turned to face the group. “Hazenthorne isn’t going to conquer itself. We need gear, and we need levels. If we keep delaying then Exodus is going to catch up to us. And I’m not having that asswipe Jirald lording it over me because he—”
Their faces had paled at the mention of his name, and that same fear and dread twisted itself in knots in her stomach. He’d tried to kill her, and probably hadn’t an inkling that it could be permanent for her. Which made it all the more terrifying. Set on his revenge, he could inadvertently kill her. The silence of her friends wasn’t helping her panic levels.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Merlin laughed, the sound completely forced and not at all reassuring. “Nothing much. I mean his body is still back there. While it looks mostly naked, I’m pretty sure it would decay if nothing was left on it.” The ranger indicated the second gazebo they’d used, where Murmur almost died.
She gulped, pushing down on that virulent fear that kept threatening to overwhelm her. She was the only one who might die in-game, wasn’t she? “So?”
Merlin shrugged. “Well, he hasn’t logged back in for an extended time, since you sent him flying out into the swamp before he could get all of his things off his initial corpse.”
“I added him to my friends list so I could keep an eye on his whereabouts once I realized he was probably going to be a douche nozzle.” Devlish rolled his shoulders before meeting Murmur’s gaze. “He keeps logging in and out. I mean, either you broke his pride, or else he keeps dying while trying to retrieve his corpse. Which is probably leading to some fucked up little plans in his tiny brain.”
“Great.” Murmur snapped, not at any of her friends, but at the situation in general. He was going to hate her even more now. He couldn’t just have let her enjoy the game now, could he? She muttered, her voice full of irritation. “Thanks for nothing, universe.”
Dansyn began to laugh, a soft sort of chuckle that slowly infected the whole group until they were all laughing. After a couple of minutes, with some of them clutching their sides and tears running down their faces, some of the tension faded and they stood facing each other. The bard smiled. “One thing’s for sure, Mur. There’s never a dull moment with you.”
She playfully punched him in the arm, wishing for some lesser exciting moments to relax in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Never dull, and not completely alive. What would happen if she died?
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
Day Six: Shayla Johnson’s office
Shayla Johnson scanned the data in front of her and frowned. It didn’t matter how many ways she looked at it, Laria was right. She had, very technically, done nothing that could get either herself or her boss fired. Sure, she’d skirted along the precipice a couple of times, but overall this was an amazing feat.
Her friend and co-worker hovered over the other side of the desk, biting her fingernails in a way Shayla hadn’t seen her do since she’d been an intern in college. Trying her best to put her at ease, Shayla inserted as much calm into her tone as she could, despite the turmoil in her mind. “It’s okay, Laria. You’re right.”
The effect was immediate. Laria’s shoulders sagged with relief, tensions rushing out of her like air from a balloon. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her face in rivers of salt. “I just—I couldn’t just let her go.”
“I know, love.” Shayla stood and offered the other woman a hug, a shoulder to cry on. With the door shut and the blinds closed, neither of them needed to show their strong sides. Having known Wren for most of her life, Shayla felt a fierce urge to protect the girl. They stood like that for several moments, drawing strength from each other like they always had to in this world.
“What am I going to do?” Laria’s tone sounded so lost, so unlike the person the world only saw as one of the most brilliant game designers in the business.
She sighed and stepped back, leaning against her desk, running various scenarios through her head and constantly stopping at the one stumbling block she couldn’t seem to surmount. “You said it happened when she used the headset?”
Laria nodded, wiping her nose indelicately with a tissue and blinking away the tears. She squared her jaw and looked her colleague directly in the eyes. It was difficult for Shayla not to smile at the sudden transformation. Businesslike Laria was a formidable woman.
“But how?”
“That’s exactly what I don’t understand. Her headset was personally adjusted. It should have been better than the manufactured ones. While not the prototype, it was one of the lab testing units with extra features that we haven’t implemented into the full spectrum yet...” Laria’s eyes opened wide for a moment and she cursed under her breath.
Shayla waited. It was often best to let the other woman just think. Her brain worked in strange, genius ways.
“I talked with Michael about this like a year ago, before—well. Before he...” Laria struggled with the words, the fire in her eyes fading only slightly before returning full force. “This headset came from his lab. Both Silke and Brandon worked on it, and Michael.”
“Wait.” Shayla stood up, wringing her hands in front of her. “That headset you have was one of their original test units?”
“Well, yes. At first, we thought it would be a good idea for Wren to help further testing. It’s got a slightly different interface, sort of refined tuning following Michael’s revised design. Similar to his own, but even more advanced because they had months to work on it. You know Wren, loves all the high tech gadgets and pushing them to their limits. Monitoring the differing levels of applied intellect was one of the clauses in the funding contract, from what they let us know of it anyway.” Laria finished the
last with an odd expression, her eyes never leaving Shayla’s face.
Shayla knew she had to be careful. While Laria knew the game inside out, neither of them were completely familiar with all aspects of the military contract. Should the idea forming in her mind be correct, it could destroy her best designer in an instant, and maybe the future of the company. Michael had been unpredictable; his AIs were phenomenal, producing eerily perfect reports, almost as if they knew what the research department wanted to see.
What if...
She couldn’t let the thoughts reflect on her face right now. Not while she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. “Did Wren know it was different?”
Laria shook her head. “No. I didn’t see a reason to let her know, to let anyone know really. I did several scans of it myself and only noticed a couple of small discrepancies, not enough to raise any alarm.”
“Like?”
“Its arms seemed more sensitive to placement. The neural scanners were stronger, providing a very slightly more immersive experience, a deeper connection.” Laria stopped, her eyes going wide. “Oh no.”
Shit. Shayla needed to step in before she fell apart. “Look, you can’t know that’s what it was. We have to look at it from every angle. A deeper connection doesn’t necessarily mean it pulled her under. It might have helped, but there were definitely other contributing factors.”
Laria nodded, squaring her jaw again. “I have work I need to get done.”
Shayla nodded back, excusing her friend and hoped she wasn’t doing her head in. When the door closed she let out a pent up sigh.
“Fuck.” She cursed into the empty room. “Those damn AIs better not be doing what I think they are.”
Hazenthorne’s gothic interior was absolutely breathtaking. The sconces on the wall burned with a low amber light. Beautiful stone gargoyle etchings sat hunched in every corner, towering up to the intricately woven crown molding. Sometimes those gargoyles were real, but Murmur didn’t hold it against them. They were still beautiful.
