The Lost City: The Realms Book Two: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  Commune was like a telephone to the Lords of Order. The description told me that I'd be a fool to trust the jerks completely, but still I loved the idea of having my own magic eight ball. Boons sounded amazing, but potentially dangerous. What kinda payments would a Boon require? Something else troubled me. Commune seemed overpowered for a noob spell. I scratched at my beard as I considered. Something was definitely odd here. Order mages reputation for being no fun irked me. I decided that one of my missions in the Realms would be to change that opinion, sticks or no sticks.

  I cast Commune. The world slowed and then stopped. A haze rolled in like an early morning fog. The people and building around me became ghostly. In the distance I saw movement and something floated towards me through the mists. It was a cube with thin, rubbery arms and legs. A large single eye glowed with an internal light. It drifted towards me and lowered itself onto its thin feet. It looked, for all the world, like Gumby’s less evolved cousin. I used Analyze.

  Quadrata: Level 8 H: 178/S: 234/M: 167/SP: 0

  Quadrata occupy the lowest echelon in the hierarchies of the Realm of Order. They are simple cube shaped creatures whose function is like that of a cleaning servant in the mortal realms.

  Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weaknesses: Unknown.

  “Great, you’re a janitor,” I said. It stared at me unblinking and after several moments I waved. “Hello, how are you?” It said nothing and stared. “Oh right, yes or no answers only.” I cleared my throat. “Do you know where Gryph is?”

  YES, it said, not aloud, but in my head. Then it turned and floated away.

  “Wait, where is he?” I asked in desperation.

  The quadrata ignored me and faded into the mists again. As soon as it disappeared from my sight, the world around me became unfazed and time began again.

  “Well, you’re no damn help,” I yelled. Several townsfolk gave me confused glares, but none stopped. I felt like a beggar in Times Square, ignored and alone amidst the throng, too crazy to risk noticing. I would have to wait until tomorrow to cast Commune again. By then I planned on having a better question ready.

  I concentrated on the other spell stone and learned Order Bolt.

  You have learned the spell Order Bolt.

  Sphere: Order Magic - Tier: Base.

  Allows the caster to fire one Order Bolt per 5 levels of Order Magic mastery. This knife of energy will unerringly hit the intended target for 5 (+1 per 5 levels of Order Magic) points of damage.

  Mana Cost: 20. Casting Time: Instantaneous. Cooldown: 20 Seconds. (-1 Sec per Level of Order Magic).

  “Nice,” I said. Order Bolt was kinda wussy now, but down the road it would be a nice staple in my repertoire. I pulled the last item from my Inventory. It was a large tome, intricately carved and embossed with gold and silver. I opened it and a sense of love and joy flowed over me.

  You have been awarded the Writ of Cerrunos

  Item Class: Base - Item Category: Passive/Active

  Base Dmg: N/A

  Passive Powers

  Power (1): +10% increase in the effectiveness of all Prayers, Incantations and Order Spells.

  Active Powers

  Power (2): The Writ of Cerrunos allows a Priest of Cerrunos to commune with the deity. Through daily study of the Writs of Cerrunos, the priest will earn the ability to invoke the god’s power through Incantations, spoken prayers that have spell like effects. One new Incantation is available per level.

  NOTE: Cerrunos, the God of Knowledge is Dead, therefore communion with him is impossible.

  “What the hell,” I said, startling a few street urchins who’d been digging in my robes while I’d checked out my Character Sheets. I roared at them and they fled, giggling as they ran. I checked that all my stuff was still here and grumbled again. I already knew my deity was dead, but now I learned that I had no capability of using any of my priestly powers. This day was getting worse and worse.

  I was lonely and sad and just wanted to see my good buddy Gryph again. Then we'd go get drunk. But Gryph never showed. To make life worse, something was definitely off with my new body. Whatever energy Aluran had zapped me with gave me periodic muscle spasms, turning me into a twitchy weirdo. I was attracting a lot of odd looks. I was pouting and sure my odd behavior would earn me the title village idiot.

  As the sun set, I decided that the cure to both the twitching and my foul mood was drink and food and more drink. I may have overdone the last part, but gimme a break, it was my first time drinking, ever.

  Back in the inn, I looked down at the mug in confusion and then at Gaarm. I felt great and a goofy grin split my face. I had stopped twitching the moment the energy had surged through the mug and into the table. Whatever kind of odd Tourette’s Aluran had given me seemed to have worn off. I looked at my hands, assuring myself that they were no longer sparking, and smiled. I eased back in my chair and casually picked a nugget of food from my beard. I looked at it, smelled it and popped it in my mouth. Sausage roll, I realized, enjoying the flavor. I’d only had the beard for a few hours, but I’d already discovered the wonder of secrets it could hide. A distant part of my mind told me that was disgusting, but I ignored it.

  The dealer snapped his fingers, drawing my attention back to the game. I’d been so lost in my memories I’d forgotten Gaarm had gone all in. The dealer asked me what I wanted to do? I gave Gaarm a grin and pushed my own pile of coins to the center of the table, earning oohs and ahs from the crowd and a confused scowl from Gaarm. Was that a look of doubt worming into his dung colored eyes?

  The pretty barmaid returned and set a fresh pint of Master Grimslee’s potent honey mead in front of me. I looked up to see her warm smile, and I eased a coin towards her. “Thanks Seraphine,” I said. She snatched the money with the practiced motion of a card trick magician and it disappeared into her apron.

  I took a large sip of the mead, my fifth, or was it sixth, of the day. The sweet nectar warmed my throat and stomach. I stared unflinching at Gaarm. Perhaps it was liquid courage that made me so cocky. It sure wasn’t common sense. Gaarm was a large Eldarian, by way of Orc, whose principal occupations, as far as I could tell, were drinking, bullying and flatulence. Under other circumstances we might have been great pals. But, alas, it was not to be.

  Happy that his stare had been sufficiently intimidating, Gaarm turned his card over with a grin. More oohs and ahs spread through the crowd. There was a reason for Gaarm’s surety. He had a good card. Unfortunately for him, I had a better one. I tossed my card onto the pile of coins with the idle arrogance one can only muster while drunk. Cheers and grumbles flowed through the Shining Unicorn Inn as the sound of coins exchanging hands filled the room. I reached forward and pulled the pile of coins towards me, a smug smile turning up the corners of my mouth.

  Gaarm’s eyes squinted to thin slits as his anger flared. His chair scraped against the rough wooden floor as he stumbled to his feet. The sound of his dagger being drawn from the scabbard at his waist was like the warning hiss of a snake. His other hand lashed out and grabbed me by the scruff of my robes, yanking me out of my chair. “Cheater,” he roared. I used Analyze.

  Gaarm - Level 8

  H: 183/S: 197/M: 112/ SP: 123. Gaarm is an Eldarian.

  Strengths: Unknown. - Immunities: Unknown. - Weaknesses: Unknown

  Well that’s not much help.

  I put on my best innocent look and denied the accusation. I played the holy man with impugned honor, and I played it well. Hand to heart, pious eyes and some other bullshit that just comes naturally to me.

  Gaarm was having none of it. He was the kind of stupid who refused to let something as foolish as logic or facts turn him from his beliefs. It didn’t matter he was right. I had cheated. The point of his dagger eased under my chin and I gulped slowly. The point drew a pinprick of blood and he pulled me closer to his face. There I learned that the promise his brown teeth had made was true, his breath was wretched. He stared at me for a few more seconds, perhaps uncertain on how to pr
oceed, before bellowing again. “Cheater!” he screamed. Several of Gaarm’s associates stood behind him for support.

  “Listen Gaarm, buddy, why don’t I buy you a drink. In fact, why don’t I buy a round for all your friends.”

  A few mumbles of appreciation flowed through Gaarm’s associates and one man even held a hand up to get Seraphine’s attention. A deadly glare from Gaarm shushed the group and the other man’s hand went down, an abashed smirk painting his face.

  Gaarm turned back to me as a winning smile spread across my face. He pulled his blade from my throat and returned it to its sheathe with an impressive spin. I took in a heavy breath of relief and then had it violently forced from my body as Gaarm’s grapefruit sized fist punched me in the gut.

  Only his grip on my robes prevented me from falling to my knees. I keeled over in pain, drawing ragged, desperate breaths. Damn that hurt, I thought, realizing it was the first time I'd experienced real pain. I was in no hurry to relive the experience, but Gaarm had other ideas. Another train force blow punched into my gut and I choked back the taste of bile. Throwing up on the brute was a sure ticket to more violence.

  Gaarm pulled me back up and close to his face. “Hi, Gaarm, I said. What’s new?” Gaarm only grinned and pulled his fist back, ready to deliver another blow, when salvation growled from the bar.

  “Cut that shit out, all of you,” said a voice as deep as any I’d ever heard.

  Gaarm and I turned towards the voice, or to be more accurate Gaarm turned and dragged me along with him. Master Grimslee stood in his normal spot behind the bar, but this time, instead of polishing mugs with the same rag he used to wipe his nose, the innkeeper held a loaded crossbow. It was pointed right at Gaarm and I, and I was certain of two things. One, the innkeeper had no qualms about using the weapon, and two he didn’t much care which one of us he hit. Gaarm’s eyes went wide. Even his dull brain seemed to have processed the deadly focus of the man behind the bar.

  “But he cheated me?” Gaarm said, his voice going almost pouty.

  A relieved smile crossed my face, and I was about to thank the portly innkeeper for intervening when luck threw me a curve ball.

  “Then take him out back and kick his ass. I will not have blood staining my floor and frightening my customers.”

  My heart sank as Gaarm turned back to me with a wicked grin. “This will be fun,” he said and dragged me towards the back door. A half dozen of his fellow goons followed.

  Panic took me and I looked around the common room for aid. Seraphine seemed genuinely concerned, but what could a simple barmaid do? My eyes zipped to the other patrons. The corpulent priest who’d tried to convert me to his goddess, looked down in shame, suddenly finding the stain on his cassock fascinating.

  A twitchy wizard who’d spent most of the evening lighting things at his table on fire, gave me an insane smile as if saying ‘have fun.’ Lurking in the corner was a rogue-like fellow, his eyes flaring red in his hood and then disappearing as he took a drag on his cigarillo. It was clear that nobody would rush to my aid.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “Shit is right dwarf,” Gaarm said.

  “I’m an Ordonian,” I said in a voice that sounded whiny, even to my ears.

  “Really?” Gaarm asked and gave me an up and down look. “You sure?”

  “That’s what it says.”

  Gaarm shrugged and kicked open the door. “I like killing Ordonians almost as much as killing dwarves,” he said and tossed me into the alley behind the inn. I landed in a puddle that I hoped, but doubted, was water.

  I sputtered and attempted to get to my feet when Gaarm’s large booted foot pushed me back down. I inhaled rancid water, gagged and feared that I might drown when a meaty hand yanked me back to my feet.

  “You bit off more than you can chew pally. I’m Gaarm and I’m a wanted man in a dozen provinces. Shouldn’t have cheated me. And don’t think that priest robe will keep you safe.” Gaarm punched me in the gut again and this time I did vomit, adding more proof that my assessment of the puddle’s contents had been accurate.

  His gang of followers surrounded me in a wide semi-circle. “You know, you didn’t cheat just me, you cheated my boys here too,” Gaarm said, as he pushed me towards one. My mind tried to make sense of Gaarm’s inane comment, but before I came up with a response, I was hurtling at another one of his boys. This one, who'd I'd dubbed Aegyptian Goon, cuz, well, he was Aegyptian and a goon, punched me in the face.

  The impact caused me to stumble backwards, and I bounced off another man. He was kind enough to hold me up long enough to deliver another well aimed punch. This state of events continued for a while, and I felt like the ball in a pinball machine. I lost track of how many punches I'd taken, but the blaring red of my Health bar told me that if something didn’t change and quickly, the game would soon be up. To confirm that fact a debuff prompt popped up.

  Debuff Added. You have taken a Beating.

  Health and Stamina Regen reduced by 25% for 30 minutes. Attributes reduced by 5 for 30 minutes.

  Lovely.

  Perhaps sensing my imminent demise, Gaarm spoke up. “Ease up boys. We don’t want to end this game too quickly.” The wiry Eldarian with the large mustachios that I'd named Mustachio held his punch with a grumble. Instead, he pushed me face down into the muck.

  I coughed and wheezed and continued my excellent performance of dying when the voice of an angel chirped up.

  “Now boys, I hate to interrupt your fun, but I really need you to stop all this.”

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  Acknowledgments.

  I couldn’t have made this book what it is without the help of numerous people.

  Thanks to Erica, my first reader, and the love of my life. You make me smile every day.

  Thanks to my mother Kathy for a lifetime of support, and my sister Melissa, who is becoming more and more of a dork every year thanks to my nephew Caleb.

  Thanks to Charlie and Mary Lou Adams for so generously letting me house sit their home in Colorado. Without your roof over my head I’d still be slogging away at this book. And Elbie says hi.

  Thanks to Philippe and Jamie Rasborn (and the kids) for letting me work at their dining room table when I was supposed to be on vacation.

  To my awesome Beta Readers, including Erica Rasborn, Robert Petersen, Ben Evans, Keegan Moss, Scott Frederiksen, Derek Morgan, Trent Baker, Kenneth Darlin, Lance Wheeler, Bret Ankenbrand, Zach Goza, Steven Weber, Jennifer Haviland, and the others who gave me feedback.

  Without you guys, The Lost City would be a shell of what it is today. Thank You.

  And thanks Lou Harper for the awesome cover.

  https://coveraffairs.com/

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