Necromancers, Demons & Kings

by LitRPG Freaks

  The flaming white arrow shot up into the sky and turned around to plummet right back into the group of them all. Bishop closed his eyes and threw his arms out wide as the shot hit home and sent the rest of them into a shimmering oblivion.

  Chapter 07

  “Do you see her yet?” Jimmy asked, standing on his toes to peer around the crowd gathered in the Training Hall. They stood near the forges at the crafting end, waiting for Calista.

  “No, not yet, and stop doing that. You might scare her off,” Bishop grumbled.

  He really couldn’t talk since he was doing the same anxious sideways step dance to try and find the elf from two days before. Calista. He thought about messaging her, but he didn’t want to put her off by seeming too forward. His worst fear was that, in the past two days, she was recruited into another guild and would no longer be able to assist Bishop and his group. He looked for the black and blue locks of hair and the pointed ears with piercings amongst the crowd of other players. Many of them looked at Bishop and murmured quietly as they passed. They weren’t exactly talking about him, but word spread of their failed attempt at making it through the third dungeon, and now everyone was on edge.

  If the Bishop’s Guard, along with the LongBeards, couldn’t beat the third dungeon, how could anyone else?

  “Oh, I think I see her!” Jimmy announced, and he pointed through the crowd. Bishop couldn’t see her yet, but his friend suddenly called out, “Calista! Hey, over here! I’m with Bishop!”

  “Seriously?” Bishop grunted.

  “What? I saw her face the other day too. I think she likes you.”

  “Just don’t embarrass me, please? Or I’ll have to challenge you to a duel and humiliate you in front of Maverick.”

  Jimmy gasped, rubbing his torso as he feigned fainting. “For shame! You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Wouldn’t dare to do what?” Calista asked lightly, stopping before them. She smiled and her right eyebrow arched. “Bishop? Good to see you again. Didn’t think you usually hang out around the Crafting Halls.”

  “Uh, no, not normally,” he said, stumbling over his words as those bright blue eyes pierced his. “This is Jimmy, my friend.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Jimmy said, and he kissed the back of her hand.

  Calista shook her head. “I know you. You’re the idiot that led that Leroy charge yesterday.”

  Jimmy’s cheeks burned red and he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah well, I figured why the hell not. Anyway, I have to get going. Meet up with you later, big guy.” He rushed off into the crowd leaving Bishop with Calista and Willy. The wolf sauntered over to the elf and promptly sat at her feet. He leaned his head back and preened himself before her. Bishop rolled his eyes, swearing the wolf grinned at him.

  “He’s beautiful,” Calista remarked, crouching low so she could run her hands through Willy’s fur. “He’s your pet?”

  “Companion,” Bishop said. “I actually got him for saving the rest of his pack back near my starting area. His name is Willy and he is a ham.”

  Willy huffed, blowing out his nose and Calista stood. “I was kind of hoping to see you again,” she said, surprising Bishop. “I wanted to ask you what went wrong with that dungeon. It sounded like your group had it in the bag, well mostly.”

  “I thought we did too, but turns out we forgot to pay attention to something and I feel like an idiot for it.”

  Calista smirked as she drew up a menu and checked out the gear Bishop had on. “I was going to say something yesterday, but didn’t want to burst your bubble or anything. You seemed pretty set on getting in there and killing that next Demon Lord.”

  “You knew my gear was useless?”

  “Well, not useless per se, but definitely not as high as it should be.” She motioned for him to follow as she walked to the forges. “I’m going to assume everyone else’s gear is about at the same spot and you’re here to ask me a question.”

  Bishop plopped down on the crates beside the forges, and he watched as she pulled ore from her bags and laid out four pieces on the anvil, more than she had yesterday. She drew out a hammer next and went to work, beating at the ore. The way she moved in this game was too real, her focus too natural and too intense.

  “Is this all you do in the game, crafting I mean? You don’t quest? You said you hadn’t even selected your Talent yet.”

  She ran her arm over her forehead. “I quest when I need to, but I like to craft. Out there in the real world I’m a blacksmith. Have my own forge and everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I got into it with my dad and then when he retired, I took over. I’m a big cosplayer,” she told him, leaning her hip against the anvil. Bishop took the moment to admire her curves and cleared his throat, forcing his gaze back to her face. “I make my own costumes, but the weapons I forge help fund the forge and, you know, pay bills and adult things like that.”

  “That’s pretty impressive, better than anything I ever did out there, well, almost,” he added, thinking of his son. “But this has to be boring compared to out there. Here all you do is what, collect the ingredients and hammer things out for a few minutes and then you magically have a weapon? There’s really no artistry to it.”

  She waved her hammer at him. “You would think that way based on all the other games, but here everything is different. The creator, Dennis, right?” Bishop nodded in affirmation. “He took the time to actually get inside what makes a weapon a good weapon, or armor, or anything else you use as gear. This crafting is almost as real as what I do back in my home forge.”

  “I haven’t seen it yet,” he mumbled.

  “Is that so? And how much crafting have you done, Bishop?” she asked, closing the distance between them.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and leaned back in the chair. “Well, I mean I made bows and staves for those in my guild, but there wasn’t much to it.”

  “Not much that you saw,” she whispered with a wink.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, curious as to what he missed those times he crafted items.

  She chuckled, a deep rich sound that warmed him and made him want to hear it again. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”

  “For starters, I’m going to work at recruiting you into my guild,” he admitted as she brought down the hammer on the ore. Sparks flew and sweat beaded her brow as she worked so close to the heat of the forges, though he knew it was only a simulation. No one actually sweat or bled in the game. “And hopefully get you all the materials you could possibly want to help us fashion new gear. We’ll make it worth your while, of course.”

  Her hammer tinked against the anvil after every three hits on the ore, and her work began to slowly take shape before Bishop’s eyes. She shoved it back into the fire to reheat it and pulled it out again, hammering even harder than before. Fascinated, Bishop couldn’t take his eyes off her as she grabbed a few more items from her bags, gems, and oils he hadn’t heard of yet. She pressed them into the heated ore, then hammered them in. She thrust the weapon, in the shape of a sword now, back into the forge and drew it out one final time. The hammer slammed down four more times, before she whirled around as if in a dance and quenched it in the water barrel behind her, filled with a black, thick oil.

  “There is so much more to crafting in this world,” she told him. “It’s an art and I think you are in need of an artist to show you the way.”

  “Sounds about right. Does that mean you’re in?”

  She extracted the double-edged blade from the oil and wiped it down. She waved it through the air, the whooshing of the sword coming close to Bishop’s ears. After looking it over with keen eyes, she turned it around and handed it to Bishop. The hilt was expertly crafted with a bone hilt, silver and gold inlaid guard, but the real magnificence was in the blade itself. The steel was run through with etched runes giving the blade strength and stamina for added attacks. He pulled up the stats on the weapon and blanched.

  “Purple item, you ca
n craft purple items?” He double-checked the sword level. “Starting at level twenty? How much crafting have you done?”

  She tapped her finger to her chin and shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across her soft face. “Since the game started, I think.”

  “And you can make everything?”

  “Light, medium, and heavy armor, as well as weapons of all sorts,” she informed him. “I don’t mess with potions or food; those are too far outside my comfort zone.”

  “We have someone who strictly does potions, so we’re good there.”

  She thrust out her hand and waited. “I’m in.”

  “Just like that?” he asked, and he handed back the sword.

  After she laid it on the table behind her, she held her hand back out again.

  “Why haven’t you joined any other guilds? I saw at least four people approach you the other day. Your gear is all over the Auction House.”

  “It is, but that’s just the stuff I make for fun,” she explained. “And none of those other boys were you.”

  “Really?”

  Calista’s eyes lit up and she reached down to shake his hand. “Don’t sell yourself short, Bishop. I know who you are out there. You’re a good-looking man and I would like to think I’m not so bad myself, but despite your background in gaming, you’re not an arrogant asshole.”

  “I try not to be.”

  “Well you succeeded, so I will join your guild and help you guys craft the gear you need on one condition, well two, really. However, we’ll get to the trickier one after we have a chance to chat.”

  “Should I be afraid of this condition?” he asked, cringing.

  She let go of his hand and he longed to have it back in his grasp, but she was already holding her hammer again as she prepared more ore for another weapon. “Not really, unless you’re scared to have dinner with me. On the other side, I mean.”

  “Dinner?” He rubbed the back of his neck and puffed out his cheeks. “In the cafeteria? That’s really what you want?”

  “I want a chance to pick the brain of Harrison Harper,” she said in between her hammer blows.

  “I’m afraid there’s not really that much to tell.”

  “That remains to be seen. Do we have a deal?”

  Where was the harm in having dinner with Calista, or whoever she was in the real world? As Jimmy pointed out, he did like her. She was charming in a rugged sort of way and her character was gorgeous. He could only imagine what she looked like in real life. If she was a real blacksmith, she was probably muscled and could easily kick his butt. Amused at that notion, he bobbed his head.

  “I think we have a deal. You’ll just have to give me a rough estimate at how much gold you think you’ll be wanting.”

  “How about instead of gold, you help me set up my own shop back in Weston? I’ve been wanting to do it, but needed a guild to help back me for materials and such. That would be my second condition.”

  Bishop’s guild and the Longbeards had several foragers. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

  “Good then, I will be seeing you at dinner time.”

  “Yes, dinner,” he repeated, and he backed away with a little bow. Willy huffed beside him and rolled his big brown eyes. “Oh, uh, how will I find you?”

  Calista flipped the hammer over in her hand. “I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

  “Right, of course. I’ll see you later then and Calista? Thanks, really, you have no idea how much you’ll be helping us out here.” He sputtered another thanks and she laughed again, that deep sound he wanted to wrap himself up in.

  Get ahold of yourself. You sound like one of the heroes from some sappy romance chick flick, he scolded himself. But even as he thought it, he found he couldn’t stop smiling.

  He and Willy left the Crafting Hall and ducked outside. Night had fallen over Hillside and he walked towards the inn where the others said they would wait for him and Jimmy.

  Willy circled his legs and, with a loud yip, raced off towards the town’s main gate. “I guess I’ll see you later, boy,” Bishop said. That wolf certainly had a mind of his own.

  The walk to the inn took him a while as he thought of Calista and how well she moved around the forge. Each time he blinked, he pictured her back in her own blacksmith shop, working away, or dressing up as some gaming character for a convention. His stomach filled with butterflies and he paused when he reached the door to the inn. The last time he’d been this nervous over a woman, he’d been getting ready to pick Juliet up for their first date back in their high school days. A date, is that really what it was? She said she wanted to pick his brain, but her face said she wanted to do much more than that.

  Without thinking, Bishop stepped inside the inn and was met with a rumbling chorus of yells from his guild. The LongBeards were not around, but that was fine by him. Having this many people know he was about to step off a cliff and into oblivion, or at least that’s what it felt like, was bad enough.

  “So, what did she say?” Maverick asked, hopeful. “Please say she’s in?”

  “She is,” he announced, as he sank down on the bench and hung his head, “on one condition, well two actually.”

  “Oh? And what might those be? Do you have to serenade her with a song perchance?” Jimmy teased. “Woo her with flowers and chocolates and eloquent poems of love?”

  Bishop kept his head down as he nodded. “Something like that. She wants to have dinner with me, in the real-world dinner. And we have to help her open a shop back in Weston instead of paying her outright for the gear.”

  “Bishop has a date?” Maverick said, brightly.

  “No, Harrison Harper has a date and he is freaking out right now.” Bishop’s stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. “Frankly guys, I don’t know if I can do this. I haven’t been on a date in years, like a decade plus years.”

  Jimmy slid a full tankard of ale towards him. “Yes, you can. For all of us, you can.”

  Bishop chugged half the ale, wishing it would actually help calm him down. But all it did was make his stomach long for the soothing taste of real whiskey to halt his jittery nerves and leave that weird aftertaste in his mouth of too much hops. “Yeah, yeah I can do it for us. We need the gear and I just watched her make a purple item level twenty sword like it was nothing.”

  “What?” Maverick blurted, choking on her drink. “How?”

  “I don’t know, but she said she’s been crafting since the start of the game.”

  “She made it on the first try?”

  Bishop nodded again. “Maverick? Your face is turning purple. You alright?”

  “I’m good I just… I can barely make potions to match our level and there she is just spewing out purple level items like it’s nothing.”

  In all these long days playing together, Bishop never once saw Maverick pout until that moment. He smirked and started to laugh as she glowered at him. “To be fair, she’s a blacksmith in real life, so that might have something to do with it. Apparently, crafting in this game is more complex than in others, and she appears to have mastered it.”

  “Your date better go well,” Maverick warned him. “Otherwise, you can learn to make your own health and mana potions.”

  Bishop’s face scrunched in annoyance, but he had a few hours to get himself together until dinner time when he would have to face one of his hardest quests yet: successfully courting a woman. He was a thirty-one year old man and he was terrified of a date. Then another horrible thought struck him. He had no idea how old this woman was. What if she was ten years younger than him? There was no way. They had too much of a connection going on for her to be that young. Right? He groaned, resting his head on the table as he realized he could have just condemned himself to dinner with a person who could turn out to be an obnoxious fan from his glory days.

  ***

  Harrison smoothed back his hair and glanced around the cafeteria. His right leg bounced up and down, until he cracked his knee on the underside and cursed with the pain
blooming at his knee cap. Rubbing it, he shifted, trying not to look like a creeper as he leaned back and forward again. Jimmy and the others sat at their usual table and he could sense their eyes on him. He told Jimmy not to be a stalker, but his friend was practically falling out of his seat to keep his stare on Harrison.

  “Harrison,” a man’s voice said, and he sagged when he turned to see Dennis. “Oh dear, have I interrupted something?” His brow rose and his knowing smile lit his face. “A date, perhaps?”

  “How did you know?” he asked, surprised.

  “Intuition and the fact that you appear more nervous than the first day of the game. One can only assume it has to do with a woman.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, as Dennis sat down beside him. “I haven’t been on a date since I met my ex-wife! I don’t know what to do, or say. We have to get ready for a dungeon and I’m freaking out over a date!”

  Dennis chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, I’m certain this setting does not help matters. Quite a few pairs of eyes watching you.” He nodded towards Jimmy who quickly looked away, whistling loud enough for Harrison to hear him. Maverick whacked him upside the head and he kissed her in return. “Ah, love. An old man does enjoy seeing such things.”

  “Are you married? I don’t think you ever told me,” Harrison asked.

  His face darkened and he cleared his throat as if trying to swallow a lump. “I was, many years ago, but she passed away and I threw myself into this game. It’s kept me going.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “No, no it’s alright.” He flattened his hands on the table and stood. “What is not alright, however, is you trying to have a date here. Come along with me, please, Harrison.”

  “Where are we going? I’m supposed to meet her here.”

  “Not anymore. I have arranged something a little more fitting for a first date.” Dennis clasped his hands behind his back and sighed with an amused grin on his face as he walked away.

  Harrison had no choice but to follow. Jimmy gave him a questioning frown. All he could do was shrug in return. He had no clue what the old man was up to. Dennis led him out of the cafeteria and through the building until they reached the cacti gardens. Stringed lights were hung beneath the canopy and a table set for two awaited.