Stephi leaned in close to her friend. “I’m putting down that my hair is that long too, but dark and wavy, and in a ponytail.”
After a few breaths of silence, Ron spoke up. “Lysine is my name. My people have dark skin, however mine is a shade lighter, owing to my grandmother’s full-blooded elven heritage.
“I carry a spear, short sword on my left hip, dagger on my right hip, and also a sling. I wear ring mail, which—although historically there is no legitimate reference to--is all that I could afford. The bronze rings keep the steel, or more accurately, iron total carried below that which will allow for my druidic magic to function.”
Derek spoke up last, keeping his eyes focused on his character sheet, with his chair angled away from the GM. “My character is Kalgore the Courageous. He’s obviously a warrior, with chainmail armor, and a shield with a spike on the front. He carries a dagger as well and is trained in long bow and staff. He’s tall and powerfully built, and definitely can dish out the damage when it comes to a fight.” Derek glanced back down at his character sheet. “Oh, and he’s missing a front tooth from a fight—one, like always, he won.”
“Excellent,” the GM said. “Is there anything any players would like to add or include on their character sheet?”
Everyone looked theirs over, Kirby glancing at Stephi’s for her, and Ron checking Kim’s.
“Then we shall begin.” The GM rubbed his hands together, almost like he was performing a display of anticipation in a high school play. Glenn got that creepy sensation from the black-clad man again, but swallowed and brushed it off. The only other person that had a look of concern was Derek, sitting on the GM’s left.
“It is late spring, in Vandike, one of the lesser kingdoms within the Morrin Confederacy, rival, and some would say enemy, of the Agrippa Empire. You are two day’s travel from your destination, Three Hills City.”
Ron interrupted. “Is there a map?”
The GM scowled. “Do you have one listed on your character sheet?”
Ron frowned, and began jotting notes onto a legal pad he’d brought with him.
“You six, strangers on the road, have banded together for safety. The Dark Heart Swamp is not far to the southwest. Even more, you have camped in the company of several merchant wagons for safety. They frowned upon the one with goblin blood among you, but the more than fair elf and the fact that he is traveling in the company of a gnome, sworn enemies of the goblins, swayed their opinion in your party’s favor.”
“They sound kind of rude,” Stephi whispered.
“It’s a dangerous game—I mean world,” Kirby said. “Narrow-minded and superstitious, usually. And full-blooded goblins are considered vile and cruel. It says so in the game’s Monster Guide, and the expansion book, Tome of Monsters.”
The GM cleared his throat, then continued. “You six are gathered around your campfire, deciding who should stand the third watch. The men-at-arms hired by the merchants will be covering the first two.”
He reached into his trunk and pulled out a black velvet bag and loosened the drawstrings. “Reach in, each of you, and secure your figurine.”
He handed the bag to Derek and reached into his trunk again.
Derek put his hand in the big bag and withdrew one of the figurines. Without looking at his, he handed the bag to Stephi.
After picking hers, Stephi rolled her eyes. “What the hell?” she said, and showed her figurine to Kim. “Looks like a porn star ready to topple forward.”
Kirby grinned at Glenn while he reached in the bag himself. He gasped. “Man, this is cool, GM. Awesomely cool.”
The painting on the two-inch tall figures was amazing. Almost lifelike.
Glenn withdrew his from the bag. “Huh,” he said, holding it close to his eyes. “It really sort of looks like me, mashed down and with a big nose.”
“Mine has a cutlass too, just like Gurk.”
“Is yours warm like mine?” Glenn asked Kirby.
“Yeah, but they were in a bag.”
Glenn saw that he’d missed watching Kim and Ron get their figurines.
Ron started to hand the empty bag to the GM but set it down on the table instead. The GM was leaning forward, placing what looked like an eighteen inch flat screen TV on the table, except it looked old school—gray and textured along the edges, like if it was a computer, it’d be hooked up to a dot-matrix printer.
With a few mumbled words and a wave of his hand over the screen, the square device came to life. Everyone stood to look down into it, like the best 3D device they’d ever seen. Looking down from above, in the center of the picture burned a campfire.
Ron looked at his legal pad and snorted a laugh. “It appears a map may not be required.”
The GM smiled, the lights in the room dimming, the yellow and orange light of the campfire in the screen flickering across everyone’s face, especially his. “Simultaneously, if you would, place the figurines selected to be yourselves around the campfire, as you imagine yourself sitting.”
Glenn’s hand had grown cold, or maybe his figurine had gotten warmer. Maybe a little bit of both. Nevertheless, he followed suit and reached to place his figurine next to the flickering campfire, between Kirby and Derek.
The fact that his figurine didn’t stop where the glass of the screen should’ve been surprised Glenn, enough that he tried to pull it back, but was unable. He couldn’t let go, like the painted metallic figure was welded to his hand, drawing him downward toward the screen’s interior, like a high-powered magnet to a block of iron.
Across from him, the same was happening to Kim. Some of the players screamed or cursed. Kirby grabbed ahold of Glenn’s shirt with his left hand. It helped the young teen as much as one man grabbing another as they both toppled off the high dive.
Glenn, teeth clenched as he felt stretched out, disappearing into the darkness of the screen, looked back.
The GM’s eyes were focused on Derek, laughing at the former football player, now college student, as he merged within the new reality, along with the rest of the party.
Chapter 3
Glenn’s jaw remained clenched, but he wasn’t looking up at the GM, or even at the ceiling and florescent lights of the Grimes Student Center’s group study room. Above him, through some leaf-budding branches, shone a sky full of stars.
He was squatting in front of a small campfire, a hand gripping the right shoulder of his jerkin.
Screams and curses around him fell silent.
Two men in armor raced toward Glenn’s campfire, spears held ready.
One of them shouted at the group around the campfire, “What? What is it?”
Everyone sitting around the fire stared up at the man, blank-faced with mouths open. A blue jay launched from a tall woman’s left shoulder and flew into a nearby tree.
The man, or creature, or man-creature to Glenn’s right, gripping his shoulder, let go and flashed a yellow-toothed grin. “Apologies, fine man.” The long-nosed manlike creature, thinner, but a little taller than Glenn, continued, saying in his creaky voice, “The gnome here just finished a scary campfire tale that shocked us a bit.”
The spear-wielding man-at-arms frowned down at Glenn, and then glanced over at the musclebound man squatting in front of the fire to Glenn’s right, a man wearing chain armor and armed with a sheathed sword. A look of surprise, and then disgust crossed the man-at-arm’s face before he marched off back into the darkness.
The man to Glenn’s right resembled Derek, but only if he’d been on steroids for a decade and a half. A light-skinned African American man sat cross-legged next to the guy who resembled Derek. He wore a leather shirt with metal rings sewn to it in rows of eight. A woman with Asian features and braided hair was next to him, a spear on the ground next to her. She looked remarkably like Kim, except for the long hair. Then a tall woman, stunningly beautiful with what looked like throw pillows stuffed in her blouse knelt on the other side of the man-creature. She resembled Stephi, a glamour model version, but with poin
ted ears and a bundle of wavy hair tied back behind her head.
Glenn squinted his eyes, and saw what he suspected. Beyond the muddy brown skin, and long hooked nose, and ears that had a downward point where the lobe should be…lurked Kirby’s face.
All six stared intently at the others assembled around the fire, observing the same clues of recognition that Glenn had noticed.
“Awww, this is so cool,” Kirby said, standing up and drawing his cutlass.
Stephi was the next one to stand. As she’d illustrated in her character description, she towered over Kirby by over a foot and a half. Glenn climbed to his feet. He was almost a foot shorter than Kirby, making him feel like a munchkin compared to the abnormally tall elf.
Stephi stomped her foot. “This is not cool!”
Kirby put a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh.”
“Don’t shhhhh me, you ugly little creep.”
Kim took hold of Stephi’s hand. “Marigold,” she said, “he’s right. We don’t want trouble before we figure this out.”
“Why’d you call me Marigold?”
“I didn’t.”
“In fact, you did,” the ring mail-wearing, African American warrior, Ron, said. Then he held up a finger. He turned to Derek on his right, who was also standing, and said, “Kalgore is the name I know you by, my friend.”
“You called me Kalgore,” Derek said.
“That is interesting,” Ron said, bringing a hooked finger to his lips in thought.
“Could this be some sort of inclusive virtual reality?” Kim asked.
Ron lifted his left hand and held it forward. “Do you feel the warmth from the fire as I do?”
Stephi rolled her eyes, demonstrating both impatience and frustration. “Step back away from me, Gurk. I can’t see you through these ginormous boobs you gave me.” Venom filled her voice as she leaned forward and pointed at the half-goblin. “You did this to me, you perverted little creep.”
Kirby’s mouth fell open and he dropped his cutlass. The weapon thumped onto the damp ground as he took several steps back from the fire, away from Stephi.
From a tree above, the blue jay that earlier had been perched on Stephi’s shoulder began a screeching call.
Glenn looked up, realizing he understood the bird’s meaning. “Danger!” he shouted, relaying the blue jay’s warning. “Danger!”
The discussion around the fire halted and everyone looked down at the gnome.
One of the perimeter guards in reply shouted, “Silence you undisciplined rabble!” A surprised cry of pain a followed a half second later.
Kirby leapt forward and retrieved his cutlass from the ground. “Bandits must be raiding us—or worse.” He turned, allowing his half-goblin eyes to peer out into the darkness. “Kill the fire. It’ll silhouette us.”
Thinking way back to random encounter raids from D&D, Glenn picked up his shield and hunched down behind it, facing out from the fire. Monsters were coming.
Another picket soldier’s shout of alarm and then death-scream emphasized it.
Virtual reality or whatever—didn’t some researcher say that people who die in a dream, can die of a heart attack in their sleep? What about dying in virtual reality?
Ululating cries, pitched like a teenage boy’s hormonal voice changing, sprang up from every direction in the darkness. Swishes and thunks sounded, announcing a flight of arrows entering the camp. There were two other fires besides the one Ron was kicking over and attempting to put out.
Derek grunted. An arrow shaft was sticking out of his shoulder, through his chain mail armor. He drew his long sword before dropping to the ground. Stephi spun around, looking left and right, panic in her eyes as she didn’t know what was going on, let alone what to do about it.
Kirby ran for the nearest tree, the one with the screeching blue jay in it.
Coward, Glenn thought upon seeing the half-goblin retreat. But he was doing no better, hunched down behind his round shield. He pulled the cudgel from his belt and flicked the cover off the end.
Horses from the two wagons neighed and men shouted warnings. Metal clashed on metal.
Glenn peered over the top of his shield in time to see a second wave of arrows fly into their camp. One struck his shield, causing him to duck. One caught Ron in the thigh, just above his knee, and another struck Stephi in her left breast. She squealed in both surprise and pain before squatting and cupping the shaft with her hands.
From within the tree, Kirby shouted, “Goblins!”
“Here they come,” Kim announced, the only one of the group standing. She hurled her spear, taking the one leading the charge in the chest. The short, manlike creature toppled back, dropping his notch-covered scimitar.
From somewhere deep inside Glenn’s heart, the sound and smell of goblins stirred up a whirlwind of anger. He stood and charged, building up as much speed as his stubby legs could muster. He rammed into one of the ugly wiry creatures. It toppled to the ground and Glenn got a better look. The goblin had coal black skin and matching black eyes that captured and reflected the remnants of the camp’s fires.
Glenn was a gnome with keen vision that required little more than starlight to see almost as if it were day. That allowed him to stomp his sturdy boot down on the prone creature’s crotch before charging ahead. He swung at the next goblin in sight, but the silver-lined end only connected with air as his wily foe jumped to the side.
Another set of swift whooshes over Glenn’s head announced several more arrows flying into the camp.
From the tree, now behind Glenn, Kirby shouted, “Marigold, use your Slumber Spell on the archers—the ones with the bows!”
Glenn couldn’t take time to see what was happening behind him as he traded unsuccessful blows with his foe. The goblin was too nimble to hit, yet it couldn’t get past Glenn’s shield.
Before Glenn realized it, a second goblin got in behind him and slashed at his leg, cutting deep into his hamstring. Glenn swung his cudgel wildly as he fell backward to the ground, his leg unable to bear his weight. The maneuver forced the second goblin to retreat a step, giving Glenn a second to contemplate his impending death.
Instead, internal instinct kicked in, and Glenn mentally released some spell strength he didn’t realize he had up until that moment. The pain in his right leg faded, replaced by a tingling warmth. His healing magic.
That wouldn’t matter if the two goblins got their way. He raised his shield to block the first goblin’s downward strike, deflecting the scimitar. The second goblin didn’t get a chance. Kim appeared, landing some sort of round house kick to her shorter foe’s head, dropping him like a sack of wheat.
With lightning swiftness she leapt over Glenn, stepped inside of the first goblin’s scimitar stroke and smashed the palm of her right hand into the surprised goblin’s nose, crushing it and several bones in his face. It collapsed faster than the first.
Glenn rolled onto his stomach and climbed to his feet. “Thanks, Byeol.” She nodded once and sprinted back toward their campfire’s embers.
“Jax, take out the sleeping ones,” Kirby shouted.
Glenn looked around and saw three goblins with bows sprawled on the grass just his side of the road. Clubbing someone when they were down felt wrong to Glenn, but this was life or death—and a deep urging reminded him they were vile creatures that had unceasingly warred with his kind for generations upon generations.
He marched up, hefting his cudgel, and delivered each an overhead slam, crushing their skulls. The sight both sickened and satisfied Glenn. Distant logic told him it was just a game, the creatures weren’t real, and he simply did what the game demanded. The continued sound of combat said his party, his friends—if they were that—needed him. If nothing else, he owed Kim for saving his life.
The others of his party must have drawn the same conclusion he and Kim had: They had no choice other than to fight, whatever the circumstances, or true reality, might be.
Derek was up, maneuvering around the remnants of their f
ire, swinging his blade, keeping four goblins at bay—three as he clove the right leg off of one that got too close. Kim and Ron were standing back to back, surrounded themselves by six goblins, but both he and Kim had their spears, using their reach and fighting abilities to their advantage.
Stephi was engaged with a single goblin. Her long reach and the quickness of her rapier kept her attacker at bay. But she was completely on the defensive and it was only a matter of time before her foe found a way to get past her parrying blade. Glenn decided she needed help.
When he was half way to her, a spread of darts rained down on Stephi’s foe, one biting into his off-weapon shoulder. At the same time, her blue jay swooped down out of the tree and strafed the goblin. A successful peck at his ear caused the goblin to spin and slash at the retreating bird. That was all the opening Stephi needed. With a swift lunge and thrust, she caught her foe in the throat.
How her epic chest hadn’t thrown her off balance, Glenn attributed to game mechanics. Didn’t female fighters in videogames, also with epic chests—although nowhere near epic as Stephi’s—suffer no penalties?
Glenn redirected his charge toward Kim and Ron. Along the way, Derek managed to behead one of his foes while receiving a slash to his sword arm, just above the elbow. Gurk hurled another spread of darts down from his perch in the tree, catching one of the goblins facing Ron in the back. Ron took advantage and pierced the wounded goblin in the stomach with a quick spear thrust.
Stephi closed on the goblins facing Kim, taking one in the kidney with a rapier thrust. Her blue jay swooped down to the attack again, distracting Kim’s other foe, allowing her to sweep her spear’s tip across the goblin’s throat as it looked up to see what had struck him.
At the same time, Derek went on the offensive, smashing his shield’s spike into the chest of one goblin while kicking another in the throat. Both went down. He missed his parry and suffered a strike to his head. The scimitar’s blade clanged off his Norman style helmet. The blade wasn’t heavy enough to do more than momentarily stun Derek, leaving enough senses to interpose his shield and block the next attempt to cut him down.
Outpost: A LitRPG Adventure (Monsters, Maces and Magic Book 1) Page 3
