Viridian Gate Online: Embers of Rebellion: A litRPG Adventure (The Firebrand Series Book 2)

by J D Astra

  Otto really hadn’t been kidding when he said I needed my own room back at the Boar’s Head. He had been snoring like a freight train all night and through the morning, and my debuffs made me painfully aware of how little sleep I’d gotten.

  <<<>>>

  Current Debuffs

  Level 2 Hungry: Carry Capacity -30lbs; Health and Stamina regeneration reduced by 20%; Stealth 15% more difficult

  Level 2 Thirsty: Health, Stamina, and Spirit regeneration reduced by 25%

  Level 1 Tired: Skills improve 5% slower; Carry Capacity -10lbs; Attack Damage -5%; Spell Strength reduced by 10%

  <<<>>>

  Two of those I could fix in a few minutes, but the tired would have to wait until later tonight. How was it the first two nights here he’d made reasonable snore sounds, and now he projected like an angry bull with a megaphone?

  I turned to my side as an orange glow began in the hall, growing brighter and brighter. Tabor came around the corner with a lamp in one hand and rapped a knuckle against the B5 plaque with the other. I rolled away, groaning at the bright light that seemed to pierce right into my pupils.

  “Rise and shine, fellow rebels! It’s time to raid an archive!” Tabor said with a chipper tone. He must’ve been really excited to be done with school duty.

  “Five more minutes without Otto’s racket,” I groaned as I pulled the sheets over my head. Instant regret hit my exposed feet with the chill morning air and sent cold shocks up to my gut. I curled my legs under me and hugged my knees, breathing warmth into my little bed cocoon.

  “No way!” Tabor laughed, and I heard him set the lamp on the ground. Seconds later, I heard the distinct sound of sheets being ripped away from a bed. Otto’s “Rah!” was near instant, and the shink of his dagger pulling free of its scabbard rang through the bunks. I couldn’t help but chuckle, despite my exhaustion.

  Comforting warmth was yanked away from me a second later, and I yelped. With sudden vigor, I leapt from the bed, my feet aching from the landing, and tore the blankets from Tabor’s grasp. I wrapped myself in them as I sat at the foot of Otto’s bed and leaned against the bedpost.

  Tabor lit the candle at our bedside from his lamp, then Renzik’s. “Get up, lazy fools! Check your time, it’s so late!”

  I popped open my menu; it was only 5:15 AM. “Don’t we get some kind of exemption since we’re running a mission today?”

  “Nope.” Tabor chuckled as he put his hands on his hips, taking a very “power-pose” stance.

  “Well, where I come from, anything before 7 AM is sleeping time for people doing the hard labor,” I protested, my words muffled by the blankets draped over my face.

  “Well,” Tabor said as he moved to Renzik’s bunk, “where we are, you wake up when the sun gets up, because that’s when it’s time to do work.” Tabor whipped the blankets off Renzik in the same fashion, but halfway through the tug, Renzik caught the sheet and yanked it back.

  Otto’s teeth chattered as he moved across the dirt floor and retrieved his gear from the wardrobe. I jumped up and pushed in beside him as I grabbed Wildfire, giving Otto a grin. My gear was easy to put on, just a simple swap. It popped onto my body and heat radiated into my limbs. Gods, I loved Wildfire.

  “Get up, get up!” Tabor nudged Renzik, who tossed and batted Tabor away. “Patrick is getting his contact in place soon,” he went on. “We need to make sure we’re ready to go.”

  This perked Otto up faster than a jolt of lightning. “We’re going in during the day?”

  Tabor gave a “yeah, duh” shrug, the kind a sixteen-year-old gives their parents. “Visiting parties don’t come in at night. Remember?” Tabor pulled Renzik upright. In a flash, Renzik’s open palm zipped out and struck Tabor in the chest, sending him staggering back several feet.

  “Ugh!” Tabor held his sternum and shot a wink to Renzik. “Nice one. Like I was saying, we’re going to be guests of the great Kameo Petraeus. We need to look good and be on our best behavior, except for when we’re stealing back what’s ours, of course.”

  “We?” Otto asked as he adjusted his breastplate.

  Tabor grinned. “Can’t shake me that easy, Otto! You need me to activate your wards and deal with the locals and...” He darted in, jabbing a fist at Renzik’s shoulder. Renzik batted his hand away without pause, then turned, planting a heavy kick in Tabor’s gut as he braced his hand against the bed.

  “Guh!” Tabor inhaled sharply, struggling to catch his breath. “And keep y’guys safe,” he said without air in his lungs.

  Renzik returned to the bed, stretching lazily as if he’d not just moved as fast as lightning. I was becoming more and more impressed with Renzik with every passing moment. He seemed to be quite adept at hand-to-hand combat, he was knowledgeable about portal magic, curious about Travelers... He was definitely an NPC since Travelers couldn’t offer quests. But he was certainly coming out of his shell. His playfulness was a grand improvement from the slave who had shied away at raised hands.

  Tabor gasped. “Breakfast in the mess-all. Le’s go.”

  “I don’t think you should come with us, Tabor.” Otto snapped his over-the-shoulder sheath belt into place and turned away, digging around in the wardrobe for his boots.

  My eyes darted to Tabor in his silence. His brow was furrowed with hurt that quickly shifted to anger. “It’s not up for debate. Arcona says I’m going.”

  Otto turned, his enormous bare toes curling into balls on the solid dirt. They stared at one another, then Otto shrugged. “Fine.” He turned back to the wardrobe and boots popped onto his dark legs.

  Tabor didn’t look satisfied by “fine.” His jaw wiggled from side to side, his tusks rubbing against his upper lip.

  “I’m sure you’ll be a great addition to our party.” I smiled at him, and though he looked to me with a quick smile, it was obvious he was unhappy. He was seeking Otto’s approval.

  “Let’s go, day’s wasting.” Tabor stalked out of the room, his shoulders pulled all the way up to his ears.

  Renzik hopped to his feet. He’d slept in all his gear, and I was starting to wonder when he was getting a chance to clean it.

  I pulled up next to Otto and nudged his elbow. He looked down at me, a hardened expression wrinkling his forehead. I smiled and said, “He just wants you to see him as an equal.”

  Otto raised a brow. “I do see him as an equal.”

  I mirrored his facial expression and crossed my arms. “Really?”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “He’s been doing this for five years without you. It’s going to be fine.” I punched his arm playfully, then shook out my hand.

  Otto harrumphed in reply, then patted me on the shoulder. We took off down the hall, Tabor keeping a quick pace, his shoulders tense and fists balled all the while. I looked up to Otto, who did not look back at me, but sighed. He took a few jogging steps until he caught up to Tabor while Renzik dropped back and walked closer to me.

  “I am curious,” Renzik started, his hand resting on the hilt of a small dagger on his belt. We watched Otto and Tabor talking lowly, Tabor using some exaggerated hand movements.

  “What about?”

  “Your world. This predicament we are now in because of Osmark. If you, if all of the Travelers had not come here, would we still be in such immediate danger from the Imperials? What will change in our world when yours is destroyed?” He trailed off, his eyes locked dead ahead.

  I’d had my doubts about the NPCs being sentient, though Otto had me pretty well convinced by now, but Renzik’s questions were next-level shit. And maybe Otto had these thoughts and never mentioned them. Either way, Renzik was certainly aware, and not just, but intelligent too.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  He looked to me with a pained smile. “We will know the last one soon, I suppose.”

  My eyes flicked to the countdown timer in the corner of my vision: 6 days and 3 hours. “Yeah.”

  We walk
ed through the Great Room, Otto and Tabor still going at it in hushed tones. The hustle and bustle of business was already getting started. Trickles of orange light shone through the holes at the top of the room, casting long, snakelike shadows of the roots on the ground. The sun had just barely breached the horizon, but already we were seeing some of it. I wondered where we were.

  “Be careful, that’s all I’m asking,” Otto said with a tone of finality as we stepped into the mess hall. Tabor seemed even more upset than he’d been minutes ago in the bunks, but he nodded in reply.

  The line snaked along and we made it to the front far faster than in any middle school. I got my sloppy grits mixed with creamy goat cheese, some kind of roasted nut, and dried fruit. Kind of a nice switch up from the smoky meat flavors. We grabbed an open table with our little trays of grub and water, everyone quiet. Despite a few prodding attempts to get Tabor to loosen up, go back to being the chatty guy he was, he kept his eyes on his meal, nodding noncommittally to my comments.

  “Alright.” I slammed my bowl down, getting the attention of not just Otto and Tabor, but a few tables over as well. “Tabor, Otto is concerned for your safety. Warranted or not, he doesn’t want you to get hurt, and that’s a kindness you won’t find from everyone, so you should cherish it.” Tabor gave Otto a sideways glance, then dropped his head with a sigh. “Otto,” I said sternly. He and Tabor both looked to me with surprise. “Tabor is not a child. He’s responsible for his own actions, and you need to respect that.”

  I looked between the two of them, each face chugging through the thoughts I gave them. Otto dropped his spoon, stood, and wordlessly extended his hand to Tabor. Tabor climbed to his feet and turned to face him.

  “Thank you, brother.” He slapped his palm against Otto’s and yanked him in for a hug. They beat each other’s backs a few times, then released and sat. Within seconds, a smirk was gracing Tabor’s face. I wondered what he was thinking.

  The rest of the grub went down amid Tabor’s avid retelling of times past when he’d executed similar infiltration quests. When we were nearly done, Patrick plopped down a few feet from me, his gaze locked on the contents of his bowl.

  “The contact is in place and expects you at the top of the hour,” he said between bites of steaming mush.

  “What’s their name?” Otto pushed his bowl aside, angling himself toward the officer.

  Patrick blew on a spoonful then stuffed it in his mouth. “No need to know their name. I’m not exposing my informants to you.”

  Otto ground his teeth, a sound like rocks being pulverized. “If we don’t know their name, how do we confirm we’ve met with the right contact?”

  In what seemed like an act of defiance, Patrick refused to look up at Otto while he spoke. “Use the code word—it’s in the previous team’s mission notes.”

  Shit. I’d completely forgotten. I opened the quest log and found the little button at the bottom, but before I could select it, Otto was back at it with Patrick. “I read the mission notes, there’s nothing about a code word.”

  I closed the menu and watched as Patrick set his spoon down, wiped delicately at his mouth, and shot a glare full of daggers at Otto. “The code word is Auralia.”

  Otto’s face went pale, or as pale as forest green gets. He swallowed hard and set down his spoon. “Patrick, I am sorry for what happened—”

  “No!” Patrick snapped. “You should be sorry for what you did.”

  Tabor stood, defiant. “Otto is innocent, he proved it.”

  “Risi combat law bullshit,” Patrick muttered, grabbing his utensil from the table. He stuffed a large scoop of grub in his mouth and stared off into space. “The contact will be at the location marked on your map at the top of the hour. You should go. It’s getting late.”

  My quest log popped up with an updated map and information about using the code word “Auralia” with the archivist. It was 6:30, not a whole lot of time to get topside and to the location marked on the map. I zoomed and scrolled, looking for the DrinkZzz tavern icon compared to the meeting location. It was at least a fifteen-minute walk, and several to the portal.

  “We better go.” I shut the menu and saw that Otto was already on his feet. Tabor was still fuming from Patrick’s accusation. I was beginning to get the sense that Otto’s departure from the group had something serious to do with Patrick, and whatever or whomever Auralia was.

  “Right,” Otto growled. “Let’s geetee effoh.” He turned and headed with his bowl back to the kitchen to drop it off. I smirked and followed after Otto with my empty dish, not giving Patrick a second glance.

  We were quiet, a sense of acrimony hanging in the air as we walked through the maze of halls to the portal, when I realized we weren’t heading the right way. “Tabor, isn’t the portal down there?” I pointed to the hall we’d just passed, which had a plank engraved with an archway and a “Q” inside it hanging on the wall.

  He shrugged. “What, you think there’s only one way in and out of this place? That would be dumb.”

  I pursed my lips and mumbled as we walked on, “I was just asking.”

  Tabor took us through the very next hall, which had a similar plaque staked to the side with a “C” in the arch. He held up his hand, and I noticed the tiny scar from many previous portal uses.

  “Abby.” Otto pulled me aside as the portal lit up like an orange hazard sign. “Your robes.”

  I looked down to see the radiant red of Wildfire and remembered the wanted poster specifically named the color of my robe. I sighed, then had a thought... What if I put the old Initiate’s Robe on top of Wildfire?

  I went to my inventory and pulled out the brown sack, then stuffed my arms through. With Wildfire being skintight and the lowbie gear being so incredibly loose, it fit over the top with some room to spare. However, as soon as I had both garments on successfully, a notification appeared.

  <<<>>>

  Debuff Added

  Overburdened Movements: You are wearing additional chest armor and have restricted movement in your arms and abdomen. Spells requiring hand gestures take 5 seconds longer to cast. All other spells take 2 seconds longer to cast, including instant cast spells. Spells have a 25% chance to have no effect on their target. Melee weapons are harder to swing, deal 50% less damage, and have +25% chance to miss.

  <<<>>>

  I choked. Are you kidding me? I opened my inventory screen and saw Wildfire and the Initiate’s Robe stacked one on top of the other, and they were disabled. I tried to remove one of the garments and another pop-up appeared.

  <<<>>>

  Extra Layer

  You are wearing an extra layer of armor and cannot remove either by quick swapping. You must remove the top layer of armor by hand.

  <<<>>>

  It was good that I could still reap the benefits of both robes while I wore them, but the Extra Layer and Overburdened Movements debuffs were serious enough to make anyone think twice about doubling up like this. I looked over Wildfire’s stats, and the Item Boons stuck out. Every level I gained while wearing Wildfire had a 2% chance of adding a new stat to the item. I was only 100 XP away from leveling. If we did anything up top, I’d definitely level, and I really didn’t want to miss out on getting something new.

  I took a deep breath and concluded the Overburdened Movements debuff was just something I’d have to accept. It was going to suck if we got in trouble, but I was sure everything would be fine. I closed the menu and nodded to Otto. “Let’s do this thing.”

  Bushwhacked

  THE NEW PORTAL DROPPED our party off at the edge of the business district, about ten minutes closer to the meeting location. With Renzik no longer in chains and looking quite healthy, we had to change our cover story. Now I was a traveling monk of the far northern Wode cities, and Tabor, Renzik, and Otto were my hired guards. I was in Alaunhylles to study the ancient texts of Cernunnos.

  I knew the Overminds were considered gods to the citizens of Eldgard, but it felt really weird to roleplay worship
ing them. I didn’t even believe in IRL God, and now I was pretending to believe in computer gods that I knew were definitely not gods.

  It was a good cover, though. I definitely looked like an impoverished monk, and moved about as slow as one, too. Though my legs weren’t overburdened, every swing of my arms felt like I was pushing through molasses. It was a struggle just to look like I was walking normally, and I often opted to put my hands together in prayer pose, as it made walking a little easier.

  Otto and Tabor led the way through the bustling crowd of the business district while Renzik stayed close by my side. His eyes darted from face to face, lingering longer on some than others. He was menacing to say the least. While Otto and Tabor had a physical presence in height and bulk, Renzik had an emotional presence. He was hunting with all his senses, and everyone was his prey.

  Dawn Elves of all shapes and sizes, but mostly tall and slender, moved about the clean streets with purpose and intent. Everyone had a place to be and a thing to be doing. The buildings were like those of the housing district: pure white stone and functional. It seemed the only real beauty of the city was in its strict organization and the mountainous grove of vividly green trees.

  Ahead there was an alley between two iron mills, and in that alley was the “x” marking the spot. It was loud between the puffing of bellows and the hammering of metal, a perfect location to meet when the conversation wasn’t one to be held in broad, 7 AM daylight.

  Otto and Tabor didn’t even look around as they passed between the buildings into the four-foot-wide passage. They looked straight ahead, as if that was exactly where we were destined to go and no one should question us. And no one did.

  I opened the quest log to see we were just fifteen feet away from the meeting location, so I snapped it shut and removed my brown burlap hood for a better look. No one. But it was still three minutes from meeting time.