Outpost: A LitRPG Adventure (Monsters, Maces and Magic Book 1)

by Terry W. Ervin II

  Kirby stepped forward. He bowed his head like Ron had done. “Ma’am, we appreciate your time offered explaining the situation to us. Would you be willing, if we have Byeol’s body here a half hour before sunrise tomorrow, to cast your Tether Spell? We will offer an additional four gold coins in contribution for your inconvenience.”

  The representative looked down at Kirby, her lip curling in distain. “That will not be possible.”

  Ron grabbed Kirby’s shoulder and pulled him back. As he did, Glenn stepped forward. “Please, could you ma’am?”

  “To be candid,” the yellow-clad woman said, her eyes remaining focused on Glenn. “I believe that you are unlikely to have the necessary contribution before sunrise tomorrow. Two weeks or three weeks and a day, to gather sufficient gold to repay the Mighty Apollo for granting a Revive the Dead Spell to be cast, I do not believe it is within your capability. To cast the Tether Spell, while it would benefit the temple, it would offer false hope.”

  Derek spoke up. “How many gold are we talking about?”

  “Nine thousand, eight hundred,” she replied, “was the contribution the last time such a spell was cast.”

  “Oh,” Derek said, his eyes breaking contact with the woman.

  Ron said, “We are in earnest, when we say we intend to secure sufficient gold to have our friend Revived.”

  Stephi drew back her hood and gazed down at the temple representative. “I am Marigold, what is your name, worshiper of Mighty Apollo?”

  “You may address me as Oarlah, Priestess of Apollo.”

  “Oarlah, Priestess of Apollo, we intend to do whatever it takes to see our friend revived. Anything.”

  The priestess appraised Stephi, then Derek, Ron, Glenn, and finally, Kirby. “You are an eclectic group. What manner of person is your friend?”

  “Byeol is a warrior monk,” Ron said.

  “Human,” Kirby said, after stepping forward. He gazed up at Ron before stepping back.

  “A woman, a brave woman,” Stephi added.

  “I see,” the priestess said. “Bring your sunrise friend to the side entrance.” She pointed, indicating the north side. “A half hour before sunrise tomorrow, and I will be prepared to tether your friend’s soul to her body.

  “Securing the necessary gold to see your objective come to fruition appears unlikely. Whether you can secure the forty gold coins that I require, I do not have full confidence. However, I sense in the majority of you that your intent is sincere.”

  Majority? That word caught in Glenn’s ear. From the hitch in his breathing, Kirby caught it too.

  “We will arrive a half hour before sunrise,” Ron said. “At the indicated side entrance.”

  Chapter 11

  All five comprehended their perilous situation, not only existing within the aberrant concurrent world, but moving toward a course of action that guaranteed greater risk.

  Ron had apparently spent a lot of time thinking about the world they’d landed in, based on the changing name he gave the world. People native to it called it Earth. Glenn was satisfied with that, and put more thought into how they might get back, or at least communicate with the GM, if he was watching through his flat screen portal. Glenn hadn’t shared that idea because he hadn’t really thought it through. More important was their current situation.

  Ron and Derek were visiting back at the Chief Magistrate’s Court, verifying, and probably bribing one or more of the workers there to be available before sunrise, with Kim’s body.

  As a group they’d trudged through the muddy streets all day, long after the rain stopped. The purpose was to make sure everyone knew the streets from the Blue Bugle to the Temple of Apollo, and from the Blue Bugle to the Chief Magistrate’s Court, and from the Chief Magistrate’s Court to the Temple of Apollo. Also, the location of the well house with the eagle atop, near the Ox Wagon Tavern, and how to find it was important. It was a rallying point, should anyone get lost or separated, or some sort of unexpected event occur. The final backup meeting place was around the large courtyard near the main gate.

  If a message needed to be left, one of the Burts at the Ox Wagon would do. Plus, a room could be had there in a pinch. The world of texting, Instagram, emails, and IMs seemed almost like magic itself in the oddly medieval Three Hills City.

  While Glenn found it the most difficult to walk and keep up, he understood the necessity. The city looked far different in the dark, and he spent a good measure of time looking over his shoulder, trying to recognize buildings and landmarks from the opposite direction. Low light vision allowed him to see in near darkness, but not in full color. More like a black and white television screen, with varying shades of gray for contrast.

  Glenn sat on a bench near a fountain, his tired legs dangling. Kirby had picked up a bottle of weak wine, which he shared with Glenn and Stephi. He also found three half-pound links of sausage that were more like kielbasa than anything else. Kirby thought it was bland, while Stephi, from beneath her hood, said it was just right. Glenn didn’t care. He was hungry and it was better than the porridge they’d had over eight hours ago.

  Petie flitted around the fountain, the only blue jay among a dozen pigeons. The circular, shallow pool was made of granite, and the statues, a unicorn with three fauns dancing around it were carved from marble. Each faun blew into a conch shell, the apparent result being a stream of water equal to a small garden hose flowing from the shells.

  “You think magic is what keeps the water flowing?” Glenn asked Kirby.

  He shrugged. “Either that or somewhere underneath there are some laborers, or slaves, working a pump. Detecting Enchantment is a spell that Marigold might learn, which could tell us. Lysine could get it too, I think. But really Slumber and Curing Spells are about the best at first rank, at least for adventuring and survival.”

  Stephi reached over Glenn’s head and took the bottle of wine from Kirby. It made Glenn feel like a little brother sitting between two older siblings.

  “How can I get other spells?” she asked Kirby.

  “Gain access to a guild library and study to get one,” Kirby replied. “Or have someone of higher rank teach you, or get a scroll with the spell inscribed upon it.” He shrugged again, and bit into his sausage. “All ways cost lots of coin, but when we have it, I’ll help you with that.”

  “Hopefully we’ll be home before that happens.”

  He glanced up at Stephi. “Maybe. But if we get the chance, I might not go.”

  Stephi said what Glenn thought, and she almost dropped the half-empty wine bottle. “What?”

  “I kind of like it here,” he said, quickly adding, “but I can see why you all want to get back and I’m totally for helping with that.”

  “Why, Gurk?” she asked, shoving the bottle into Glenn’s hands.

  “My life pretty much sucks,” he said. “My mom’s a heroin addict and my dad drinks, and we have no money.” He stared at the brick walkway surrounding the fountain. “No friends either. I get picked on, but here I can defend myself.”

  Stephi put her arm around Kirby’s shoulder. “You’re my little man. When we get back, I’ll be your friend.”

  “Come on,” Kirby said. “You’re a college student and I’m in junior high.”

  “I think after this,” Glenn said, “we’ll have bonded in a way that’ll make things different between us.”

  Kirby didn’t raise his head but looked back and forth at the elf and the gnome out of the corner of his eyes. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  Stephi squeezed his shoulder, then took another bite of her sausage. “Give me back that wine, Jax.”

  Glenn handed Stephi the bottle then leaned forward to get a better view of Kirby. “So,” he said in a hushed tone, “so far you and Lysine haven’t been too clear on the plan tonight. I know we’re going into the Blue Bugle and you’re going to do…your thing, based on your character class.” He figured nobody who might overhear would understand what he meant.

  “We’re playing it
by ear,” Kirby replied. “There’s some gambling there, and Lysine believes he can do what they kick you out of casinos for in Vegas.”

  “Think that’ll work with his lower intelligence score?”

  Kirby took a bite of his sausage, stuffed it in his cheek and answered Glenn. “Good question.” He chewed and swallowed. “Me, I’ll just be looking for openings. Some richer merchants are supposed to let loose there, drinking, gambling, and there’s supposed to be stage music and shows.”

  “That doesn’t sound medieval,” Stephi said. “Card games and a stage show.”

  Kirby shrugged. “You two will help me if I get into trouble, or need a distraction.”

  “I know,” Glenn said. “People seem to like gnomes, so I’ll use that to my advantage.”

  Stephi sat up straight, emphasizing her chest beneath her robes. “Don’t expect me to be flashing these for a distraction,” she said.

  Glenn said, “Maybe just drop your hood and flash that super model smile.”

  “Right,” she said. “Make the girl use her body instead of her brains.”

  Kirby held out his hands, gesturing for them to stop. “Places that have gambling usually watch for magic. Sometimes have anti-magic protections up, so people can’t use it to cheat. So what your brain allows you to do magically probably won’t work.”

  “I know,” Glenn said. “But Kalgore’s muscles will, if we get into trouble.”

  Stephi rested her hand on the basket hilt of her rapier. “You said they let us keep our weapons?”

  “Yeah,” Kirby said, waiting for a few porters to pass by before he said anything. “But while you’ve got training with that, just about everyone else who carries a sword will be better with it than you. And they’ll have bouncers that are probably mid-rank warriors.”

  “Think they’ll mind if Petie comes in with me? He’s pretty smart.”

  Kirby shook his head. “Probably not a good idea. Will mark you as a magic user of some sort.”

  Glenn added, “If you were gambling with cards, would you want someone’s familiar in there with you?”

  “Right,” Kirby said after finishing his last bite of sausage and signaling Stephi for the wine bottle. “And if things get nasty, they may try to do something to him to get at you.”

  “Oh,” she said, and took a quick drink before handing the bottle to him, over Glenn’s head. “Have you done this type of thing before? Like in a game?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Great,” she said. “How many gold coins did your other character get?”

  “None,” Kirby replied. “Got caught and tossed in prison.” He quickly added, “But I got better stats this time and people who aren’t a bunch of lame dicks backing me up.”

  Chapter 12

  The five made it to the Blue Bugle just before sunset. It was a wooden building with sturdy framing and actual windows. The front was single story and wide, but it extended back to become a three story structure. Painted on the wall facing the side street on which it sat was a large blue bugle. Glenn stared up at it. Go figure.

  He and Kirby were supposed to be Stephi’s entourage, her assistants. But with this establishment, that meant security or muscle, which seemed odd, them being anything but physically intimidating. Well, Kirby could be, when he let his goblin nature off the leash. How much backup he had with that, being a low rank thief, was another question.

  Patrons were allowed to bring weapons, but they could only be drawn and used in self-defense, under penalty of imprisonment—or death, if the patron couldn’t or wouldn’t be disarmed. Or that’s what Kirby and Ron said, based upon what they’d gathered on the street.

  That didn’t make sense to Glenn but he brought his cudgel in anyway, slid into his belt loop. He had his shield on his back…mainly because he didn’t have a place to put it. Ron had left his spear along with Kim’s at the courthouse where they were holding her body. Sort of like a temporary morgue, as Ron described it. “Rent” for space, and the preservation crystal was a silver a day. Not many people, it seemed, paid for it. Not many people, it seemed, were ever actually Revived.

  The Blue Bugle wasn’t exactly an exclusive place, but it cost three silver coins for admittance, two for assistants. Stephi, wearing her hood, paid. One of the doormen wearing a well-cut tunic and blue shirt gave her a wooden token with a stylized bugle and a number burned into it. Glenn and Kirby followed her in. A less smartly dressed doorman painted a red mark on their right hands.

  Moments before, Petie had taken flight to perch somewhere on the roof. Stephi seemed to miss the blue jay’s presence on her shoulder.

  A few minutes behind them, Ron, accompanied by Derek as his assistant, were to arrive. Better to come in two groups, and not necessarily be associated. Or that was the plan.

  So much was being played by ear that it bothered Glenn. Far more than Kirby, or even Stephi. But he went along as there didn’t seem to be another option. Time was their enemy—Kim’s enemy—and that enemy was closing in fast, swooping in for the permanent kill.

  Some of the people Glenn pegged as adventurers of some sort. They had armor and weapons, but nothing like the regular citizens, who might wear a dagger or a small sword, which was a smaller version of a rapier. Various types of armor, and swords, some with semi-precious stones set in their pommels. One fellow even had a staff with weird etchings carved into it. But they were in the minority. Still, Glenn thought it might be a good thing to strike up a conversation with one or more, if the opportunity presented itself—or he’d suggest it to Kirby. They might have some clues as to an adventure or two, some way to gather a lot of gold within a two week deadline.

  Of course, why would they share anything of value with their competition? There weren’t any other gnomes, mostly humans with a few half-elves mixed in. There was a dwarf working behind the bar with a couple human bartenders.

  But other than that, patrons entering and already within the Bugle were mostly human, probably merchants, based on their dress and armament. There to have a good time, do a little showing off of wealth, and avoiding the common riff-raff. Those sorts couldn’t afford the entry fee.

  Glenn glanced at himself and at Kirby. Wrong on that score, sort of. He was a healer, and Kirby was a trained thief, probably someone they really didn’t like, beyond him being an often despised half-goblin, based on his nonhuman heritage.

  The thought occurred to Glenn, was Kirby’s father a goblin or his mother? He guessed rape of a human by a goblin, resulting in his birth. He shook his head to clear the thought. First, that was pretty bigoted, although his first encounter with goblins hadn’t been positive. Second, because he needed to pay attention to his surroundings, and what was going on. It was already hard enough being shorter than everyone else. He tried to keep up with Stephi. It was like being a second or third grader trying to keep up with his mom in a crowded department store on Black Friday.

  Kirby pressed Glenn forward. “Keep up with her,” he urged.

  Stephi sliced her way through the people and found a high table with four stools along a wall. It wasn’t optimum for viewing the stage, being at a good angle off to the left-hand side, but it did offer a glimpse of the upper two levels from across the room, sort of like one of those hotels where one could look up at the mezzanine and the second floor. There some of the gambling appeared to take place. Probably the big-stakes games, Glenn figured, as two hulking bouncers that could’ve doubled for Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime guarded the spiral stairwell leading up.

  Stephi took a seat along the wall with Kirby hopping onto a stool to her right. Glenn stared at the tall stool. No way was he going to get a boost from anyone. Stephi spotted his concern. She took hold of the seat with her left hand and put a boot on the lower crossbar to steady it.

  “Thanks,” Glenn said, figuring it would’ve toppled had he tried it alone. “Being short really sucks.”

  Stephi laughed from beneath her hood. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.” She then reached o
ver and lightly punched Kirby in the shoulder. “Thanks for not letting me play a hobbit.”

  “Monsters, Maces and Magic doesn’t have hobbits.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Kirby rested his hands on the table. “It does have pixies and fairies, but not as player characters.”

  “We don’t need a game lesson now, Gurk. Let’s watch for Lysine and Kalgore.”

  The bottom floor had several rows of benches with backs arrayed up near the stage, which was near the back of the first level. Glenn guessed, by the structural view outside, beyond the stage was where any cooking, storage, offices and whatever else the Blue Bugle needed for the place to run.

  Behind the benches they’d arranged nine round tables with seats for between four and eight customers. They were lower tables than where he and his two companions were sitting, larger and more appropriate for dining. Most of the high tables were along the north wall where they sat. Along the south end of the large, low-ceilinged room, was a gambling area. Tables with a few people playing cards around them, what looked like a blackjack table, and one where people would shoot dice. The dealers and those running or monitoring the tables wore blue, similar to the fancy doorman. Several of the men were pretty large, and wore short swords on their hips.

  Glenn wondered if the world had a north and south, east and west, and if a compass would even work. Probably, he figured. Heck, in his history classes that covered the Dark and Middle Ages in college, he never heard of such an establishment, or doormen marking paid customers. Whoever made up this game was sort of whacked—or was the game’s design influenced by the world that it came to parallel?

  He recalled his high school physics teacher discussing a theory of infinite parallel universes. Glenn thought she was whacked. Apparently, she was right and he was whacked for doubting her.

  The place was filling up with merchant men and women in linen and silk outfits. Some were pretty conservative, while others sported odd patterns, with reds, blues, oranges and greens. And everyone seemed to carry some sort of weapon. Convenience and ease of wearing seemed more important than deadliness. No axes or spears or polearms. A few men and one woman wore a larger sword strapped across their back. Glenn smiled. That would make things interesting if they wanted to sit down. It was uncomfortable enough with his cudgel, and its little stocking, resting in a loop on his hip. The shaft extended down, over the edge of the stool. A cushioned chair, one with arms, would make that impossible.