Scrambled Lives

by Rue Vespers

Jenner stood in the sand in triumph, and received a very welcome visit from those radiant blocks.

  Congrats! You are now Level 4!

  Chapter Eighteen

  The greater city of Galadras was in much finer condition than the lowly Rundown. Paved roads, clean windows, and unmarked walls were what Jenner had noticed first on his way to the gladiator rings. There were sidewalks, too, upon which the mixed-race foot traffic traveled while polished carriages rolled along in the streets. Even the alleys were lovelier: flowerboxes hanging off the windows and the trashcans concealed behind artful screens.

  Nobody sold food out of drums over here. Fine restaurants dotted the roads, their menus hanging outside upon the brick posts bracing the doors. Nor did prostitutes lean out of windows at the brothels, shouting down their particular services, talents, measurements, and prices. As for the brothels themselves, almost tasteful, artistic images of naked figures decorated the outer walls. Some of these places were so exclusive that one was required to apply for membership in order to join.

  The gladiatorial school was a mile and a half northeast of the rings. The shops and inns fell away beneath Jenner’s feet to a hilly area dedicated solely to industry. Smoke streamed into the air from chimneys atop windowless buildings, and wagons rolled past him with their heavy loads roped to immobility.

  Why? Why was the game designed like this?

  It mimicked what Jenner recalled of the outer-world, just with more dragons and minus the cars. Yet he was soothed by its familiarity, just as he had been soothed to spawn as a human player who looked pretty close to himself. Even if these factories were manned by NPCs, busily creating goods that had no need of being assembled piece by piece when they could simply be summoned up whole, goods that Jenner would have to save up and buy in turn . . . it was comforting. There was so much that he didn’t understand about this world, yet so much that he did.

  He consulted his map to confirm that he was going in the right direction. The locations of the human Houses upon the parchment caught his eye. House Armada was near the Palace of Light; Houses Ondine and Gherithe were blocks apart in the center of the city. Surprisingly, House Thorus was in the Rundown just north of the dock. Jenner had passed it unknowingly more than once, and somehow that condemned it further in his mind. A House should look grand, shouldn’t it? Something that stood out from the crowd. Clearly, House Thorus was just as ramshackle as everything else in the Rundown.

  He turned left at the next corner to a long, dead-end road that wound down a hill. According to the map, his new school was located where the street stopped.

  The factories petered out ahead for sloping fields of tall grass. “Why do you think the school is all the way over here in the middle of nowhere, Rosy?” Jenner asked.

  Rosy was riding around in quiet contentment upon his shoulder, taking it all in; the little teacup really had seen enough of that wizarding lab to last a lifetime. “It’s the perfect place. Who wants to live or work next to a gladiator school? All the noise of the clashing swords and arrows flying everywhere.”

  “Good point. You’re smart for a cup.”

  The teacup bopped him on the ear with the spoon.

  “What was that for?” Jenner asked.

  “Don’t get scrambled while you’re training.”

  “I’ll do my best. You must love me back.”

  “Purely self-preservation,” Rosy said tartly. “I’m with you until your next scrambling. That’s what the INTC told you, right? So what happens to me when you inevitably get scrambled?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I might respawn as a teacup on a shelf at the college. Just another thoughtless, inanimate teacup. You’ll be alive somewhere else in this fucking game, but I’ll be dead. What are the odds that I’ll get struck with another spell from a corrupted wand?”

  Even a piece of rogue code could treasure its life. “What happens if I end up soulless?” Jenner wondered. “That’s technically not scrambling, so you might be alive.”

  “I’ll stay with you wherever you wander,” Rosy promised. “Smacking you with my spoon to keep you out of trouble, and smacking any necromancer that tries to dig a wand into you.”

  Touched, Jenner said, “Oh, Rosy, don’t do that. Go out there and have adventures. You’re a good ally for a new player to make. Mostly.”

  “You’re mostly okay, too, Gramma. Hey, there it is!”

  Jenner stumbled over nothing in his excitement. At the base of the hill was the Augustus School for the Gladiatorial Arts. It wasn’t a very grand-looking place, but what did he care? He wasn’t here to criticize its architecture but learn how to fight.

  A stone wall encircled the property. Squat buildings in beige faced a practice field, upon which tiny forms could be seen sparring. Odd indeed were three splotches of blackness that shined radiantly within the grounds of the school. They weren’t shadows. No, they were as brilliant as the screen blocks in a dark way.

  “What are those black areas?” Jenner asked.

  “Those are the entrances to the underground dungeons,” Rosy said. “There was one on the Tremaine college campus, but it had to be closed down.”

  “Why?”

  “The remnants of those demonic curses! No matter what the wizards do, they can’t eliminate the effects entirely. Students went in with fresh wands and potions and the dungeon warped everything in minutes and kept the monsters regenerating even after they’d been vanquished. It can’t be fixed. Occasionally a stupid student or two sneak in, thinking they can beat it and impress their little friends, but they never come out.”

  “The school should remove it.”

  “They can’t, and that’s the effect of the curses, too. The staff blocked off the entrance and the students are shuttled over to the dungeons at another college of wizardry to learn.”

  The sidewalk came to an end. Jenner jumped off the curb to jog in the road. There was no traffic of any kind. “Demon magic sounds wild,” he remarked.

  “They’re wild,” Rosy corrected. “They’re proud but sloppy, powerful yet lazy, and they think they should be in charge even though there’s never been a demonic rule in Talvenor that’s lasted longer than a few days. Wizards are the biggest tools in this world, but demons run a close second.”

  “Is that so?” said a cold voice.

  It was Hellsbore. The demon’s approach had been utterly soundless, as he was riding upon ice plates a couple of inches above the ground. Giving them a look of scorn, Hellsbore zipped ahead with the plates dripping on the pavement.

  “Well-timed,” Jenner said.

  “Oh, whatever,” Rosy said indifferently. “He’s a demon. If you’re nice to him, he’ll hate you. If you’re mean to him, he’ll hate you twice as much but might gain a measure of respect. Demons think everybody is trying to screw them over when they’re the ones doing the screwing.”

  Still, those ice plates were pretty cool. The blocks seemed to agree.

  Fun Fact Time! Ice demons often travel upon skimmers, which look like plates of ice beneath their feet. The speed, height, and longevity of a demon’s skimmers are determined both by level and practice. Go to the gladiator rings sometime to watch an ice demon match . . . you’ll be amazed!

  Jenner jogged faster, determined not to let those wooden doors in the wall around the school open to only Hellsbore standing there. “Will I still be myself if I ever scramble into a demon?” he asked the cup.

  “You’ll be yourself,” Rosy reassured. “Just a worse version of yourself.”

  “That’s not being myself. That’s someone else.”

  “That’s still being yourself, you simpleton. The game capitalizes on different attributes of your personality depending on your race. They’re all your attributes, not someone else’s grafted onto you.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “If you’re naturally a tad paranoid and suspicious, the game will inflate those negative qualities a little more when you’re a demon. If you’re a braggart, if you’re
conceited and arrogant, you’ll be even more so as a wizard. You’ll be more aggressive as a troll; more retiring as an elf; more family-oriented as a shifter. It’s all you, kid, just slightly different versions of you. It’s a boosted you. The game doesn’t create from scratch. It works with what’s already there.”

  As if to prove the point about the negative qualities of demons, Hellsbore knocked without waiting for Jenner to catch up. Jenner ran the rest of the distance and reached the school just as the doors began to open.

  “I am here,” Hellsbore announced, as if his presence was an incredibly amazing event worthy of jaw-dropping awe.

  “Good for you, chum wad,” said a man sarcastically. “Good for fucking you.”

  It wasn’t Tennus August but a human fellow with the limited NPC crystal around his neck. Colorless hair was clipped close to his scalp. His red vest was open over his vast, obscenely muscled chest, and his close-fitting trousers were stained with sweat and dirt. He was nearly as tall as Dan the Troll.

  His square jaw worked hard, like he was chewing on a tough piece of gristle while he scanned them in distaste. The breeze shifted and a nasty smell invaded Jenner’s nostrils. The guy stank to high heaven of ale and body odor.

  Maybe Jenner should have dished out the silver for Jawbreaker. This guy didn’t look like he was going to let them in.

  “Another ice demon,” the man said after several uncomfortable seconds passed in silence. Hellsbore was standing in a puddle of his melted skimmers. “I’ve had six of your kind pass through these doors in the last month. One graduated, four scrambled themselves in the dungeons, and I scrambled the last one myself when I slipped in the puddles he left everyplace.”

  He put his fists on his hips and stared at Hellsbore. “Like puppies taking piddles, you lot. I’m always stepping through a damn piddle party. Go and wipe off your feet before you track more of your ice piss in here.”

  Deflating, Hellsbore took himself sourly across the street to wipe his boots in the grass.

  Then the man confronted Jenner. “You ever heard of Sword and Spear?”

  “No,” Jenner said, adding, “sir.”

  The man’s reply dripped with sarcasm. “Of course you haven’t heard of it. You’re just some squalling, shit-level human who’s been here a couple of days and doesn’t know squat about squat.”

  Jenner was not inclined to debate this.

  “Sword and Spear,” the man enunciated with care. “It’s the premier gladiator school in Galadras with a five-percent acceptance rate for human applicants Level 10 on up! You got to be something special to pass through those doors, and you got to be really special to pass back out of them. You give Sword and Spear a hundred human students, and by the time that school is through with them a week later, only two actually make it to the rings. The rest of them dropped out or got scrambled.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “‘Yes, sir,’” the man said mockingly as Hellsbore returned. “I was the tennus at Sword and Spear. Tennus. I walked in and four hundred students fell to their knees to put their foreheads on the ground. I dropped a dagger and they clawed each other to shreds for the honor of picking it up. I only graduated the best of the best, the ones who would bring honor to my school.”

  He glared at them ferociously. “I turned out champions. Champions! I turned out craftsmen of blood and carvers of flesh and artisans of agony. I turned out the fiercest fighters this world has ever seen. They gave me glory, and House Armada couldn’t wait to get their hands on them upon retirement from the ring. Armada. They took my champions as their combat teachers, which means they’re teaching their players my training strategies.”

  Wow! Boomer sure doesn’t like you! Step carefully, because your reputation has-

  Boomer paused to drink from a flask. Hitching it back to his belt, his eyes settled upon them with even more contempt than before. “You think you two are future gladiators?”

  Neither Jenner nor Hellsbore answered.

  That was for the better, since the question was answered for them. “You are nothing. Hear me? Nothing.” Boomer’s index finger swung between them with disdain. “You’re a demonic piddle princess. You’re a human reptile with a cup on your shoulder. You’re someone’s future kills. This joke of a chum school isn’t ever going to take any pride in either of you, because you don’t take any pride in yourself. You’ve chosen the shittiest gladiator school in all of Galadras to learn your craft. Who can master anything in three days? No one! You want to do it fast instead of doing it right. Both of you are a disgrace to the glorious sport of gladiatoring.”

  Rosy made a terrible, throttled sound at gladiatoring, which Jenner was ninety percent sure was not a word.

  “But that’s the problem with your generation!” Boomer boomed. “You all want it fast. You all want it now. You feel entitled to hoist a trophy in those rings when you aren’t fit to rake the sand. You wouldn’t last five minutes at Sword and Spear. Not! Five! Lousy! Minutes!” He punctuated each word with his fist slamming into his palm. “And you never saw me as a tennus lolly-gagging around at the rings to pick up some Level 3 dipshits-”

  “Level 4, Tennus,” Jenner and Hellsbore blurted.

  It was the wrong thing to say. Three times over.

  They shouldn’t have corrected the man, or called him Tennus, or spoken at all. Jenner knew his mistakes the instant the words flew out of his mouth.

  Those fists seized their shirts. They were yanked right beneath Boomer’s chin.

  “Let’s get a few things straight, you and you and me,” he said to them in utter hatred. “You don’t interrupt me. Ever. Do you think it matters? Level 3? Level 4? Level 5? I’m Level 101. You haven’t accomplished anything but pulling up your big boy pants, so don’t tell me what level you are like a single-digit number is worth anything! And it’s a mockery of the title tennus to use it at this school as if every school stands equal. That title means something. I am the arms-master here, but you won’t ever need to call me that, you chum wads, and do you know why?”

  They were silent.

  He dragged them through the doors, rotated around, and stalked into the school grounds. The practice field was a giant sandbox, crowded with fighters engaged in brutal battles. They fought each other with real swords, crashed staffs together with ringing blows, wrestled and threw punches. An elf whipped around a twenty-foot troll NPC, slashing at its knees and shoulders to incapacitate it.

  The students got out of the way hastily as Boomer strode onto the sand, pulling Jenner and Hellsbore along for the ride. “I’m done!” he roared. “I’m done with trash blowing in through these doors! I’m done with trash sullying up my sand! If you don’t start looking smarter out here, if you don’t give me one hundred and ten percent, if you look like trash blowing around on the ground, then I’m going to treat you like trash! And what do you do with trash? WHAT DO YOU DO WITH TRASH?”

  “You throw it out, arms-master!” the students shouted in unison.

  “You throw it out!” Boomer yelled.

  Was he going to take them around the back of the buildings and throw them into a trashcan? This wasn’t the school experience that Jenner envisioned on his walk. Desperately, he looked around for Tennus August to intercede, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

  Boomer stormed along through the sandbox, breathing hard from temper as they got closer and closer to a black dungeon light on the far side of the field. At any second, Jenner thought, the arms-master was going to swing wide to go around it.

  But he didn’t.

  “I’m taking out the trash!” he shouted one more time, and threw them in.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Darkness.

  Dimness.

  Light.

  Uh-oh! Are you equipped for a dungeon battle? Once you leave this room, danger awaits!

  Congrats! It’s your first visit to a training dungeon. A piece of chalk has been added to your inventory to be used in your adventures. Mark your way – some dungeons are m
azes and you don’t want to get lost!

  Inner-World News: Guilds are often on the look-out for new members willing to go on dungeon raids. The risk of scrambling is high, but the rewards can be worth it! Ask more experienced players for advice . . . and maybe they’ll share a funny story or two about the dungeon bunny glitch!

  Fun Fact Time! There’s nothing like a dungeon to get your blood pumping. Whether you’re seeking treasure or practicing your combat skills, a dungeon is a great place to go! Talvenor has many dungeons, and sometimes in the most surprising places. But don’t walk in unprepared, or you might never walk out!

  “What if you get thrown in?” Jenner said as the blocks flew away.

  He had landed hard on his ass, but it didn’t hurt thanks to his scales. Sprawled at his side was the arrogant ice demon, who was wincing from pain.

  They were in a small room carved out of rock. Dim light shined in from nowhere, the air itself producing it. A crude passage led away from the room, the ceiling low and the ground bubbled, round-tipped stalagmites pushing up against the walls.

  So this was a dungeon. A training dungeon, as it was. All was still, as still as a grave.

  “He can’t do that!” Rosy yelled, hopping in agitation beside Jenner’s boot. “He can’t do that! You got into this school fair and square!”

  “He did it,” Jenner said grimly.

  “He looks like someone sticks a hose in his ass every morning and inflates him with helium. And I didn’t even mention it because I didn’t want him to dislike you anymore than he already did. I should have said it! I should have just said it! What a gas-bag!” Rosy hopped even faster from temper. “Why don’t you teach at Sword and Spear anymore, Mr. Level 101? Why did you get demoted from tennus at the premier school of gladiatoring to arms-master at Crap-Whacker U?”

  “OFF!” Hellsbore spat, waving his hand reflexively in front of his face. “I don’t give a damn about the dungeon bunny glitch!”