“What happened to you guys!” yelled Nerdraaage.
“We apparently became our characters from Cronica,” said Dangalf.
“You’re so tall!” replied Nerdraaage.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Doppelganger, “you’re a dwarf.”
Shocked, Nerdraaage began looking at his own body and limbs. He quickly took hold of his red beard, more violently than he should have, and he let out a sharp, “Ah! It’s real!”
“So are these!” said Elftrap as he appeared from the mist—or, more accurately, as she appeared from the mist. The “these” that she referred to were her breasts, which she cupped with hands under her shirt. She was now a slender but strong she-elf dressed like the others but only less so. Her garments left little to the imagination, which was just as well, as the Keepers’ minds were reeling enough without the additional burden of imagining.
Elftrap was a stunning female with only the slightest points at the ears and eyes to differentiate her from a waifish human beauty. She-elves were some of the most eroticized creatures in fantasy art, and here was one in the flesh, stunning beyond the works of even the best, horniest fan art.
“Somehow I have become an anatomically correct she-elf,” she said. “Look at you!” she said of Doppelganger. “You’re built like a brick shitehouse.”
“Right back atcha.”
She surveyed her other companions as they surveyed her in return. She nodded her approval at Dangalf, who could only swallow in response. She looked Nerdraaage up and down. “Nice choice with the bright red hair by the way.” Nerdraaage smiled sarcastically. Things were already returning to normal. A new normal. “So where are we?” she asked.
“Acadia,” answered Dangalf pointing to a road sign that stood at the intersection of three dirt roads. “There’s a sign for Hempshire, and I would assume the other two are for Hammersmith and Templa Taur.”
“That says Hammersmith,” said Nerdraaage. “But the third one is gibberish.”
“You’re gibberish,” said Elftrap. “It clearly says Templa Taur. The Magic Wood.” Elftrap said the last part as if a bit surprised herself that she knew it.
“You can read those signs?” said Dangalf.
The dwarf and elf nodded. “Why?”
“Because I cannot. I believe they are written in Dwarvish and Elvish respectively.”
“I can speak Dwarvish,” marveled Nerdraaage.
“And Acadish,” said Dangalf. “If you notice the Hempshire sign, it is similar to English but it is not English.”
“He’s right!” said Elftrap. “I read it so naturally I just assumed it was English. But if I’m an elf, why can I also read human words?”
“According to game lore, human language or Acadish is the lingua franca of the righteous races,” said Dangalf. “Just as Trollish is the tongue of the RGB.”
“Does it bother anybody else that that is impossible?” asked Elftrap.
“If we stop suggesting that our new reality is impossible, we can probably cut down on a lot of unnecessary conversation,” said Dangalf.
Nerdraaage started to say something and stopped. So they stood and talked about the situation, but the conversation kept coming back to the impossibility of the situation, and that resulted in a lot of unnecessary conversation, and finally they had to sit on the dirt road out of fatigue. All but Doppelganger, who would not fatigue and sat down only out of boredom.
They agreed on some key points, which was immaterial because the situation was what it was whether there was agreement or not. But for the record, they agreed that they were in Acadia at a point that in the game was called the crossroads or “noob central.” (Noob being a variation on newbie, or a person new to the game.) Noob central was the place where all new Alliance players began and from where they would embark to their race’s nearest town.
They agreed that they had all taken on the physical characteristics of their avatars from Cronica, right down to race, physique, and gender. To use the game terms, Doppelganger was the mesomorphic warrior, Dangalf was the ectomorphic mage, and Nerdraaage the endomorphic dwarf. Elftrap was a hybrid mesomorph/ectomorph befitting her druid class.
They agreed that each seemed to keep some of their original traits. Voices were the same or similar. (Elftrap’s seemed to be a few octaves higher but still recognizable.) Speech patterns were the same. Dangalf and Doppelganger, knowing each other the best, agreed that their mannerism and posture remained the same, though it was hard to tell because the physical transformations were so striking. Their memories and personalities were intact. They also looked into each other’s eyes and agreed that the eyes had not changed.
“The windows of the soul,” said Elftrap more tellingly than any of them knew at the time.
“My eyes might look the same, but I am seeing better than I have ever seen,” said Dangalf. “I don’t need glasses.”
“My vision is astonishing,” agreed Elftrap. “And the sounds I can hear and the smells.” She stopped to look accusingly at Nerdraaage. “These senses are going to take some getting used to.”
Finally, they wore noob clothing, plain cloth garments and boots that offered little protection from the elements let alone the dangerous creatures they had to believe inhabited this land. Dangalf looked at the clothing that adorned them instantly on their entrance to this world and recognized something odd about it. But he would end up burning his magical clothes before he figured out their worth.
They had no money and no gear. It appeared to be the beginning of a long road to provide themselves with basic necessities in a strange and dangerous world. The conversation drifted back to the impossibility of the situation.
“I must be dreaming this whole thing,” said Elftrap, looking at her long, slender legs stretching out before her.
“That’s a pretty conceited way to look at it,” said Dangalf, also looking at her legs. “You could say the same thing about the world we came from. This is as real as that world.”
“It’s impossible,” said Nerdraaage.
“Not necessarily,” responded Dangalf. “There’s a school of thought that believes that there is an infinity of realities. If this is true, one of those realities would be a duplicate of Acadia.”
“If there’s an infinity of universes, wouldn’t there have to be also an infinity of Acadias?” asked Elftrap.
“Infinity is a difficult concept.”
“What do we do now?” asked Nerdraaage.
“We play the game,” answered Dangalf. “We were summoned here. In time, maybe we’ll find out why. But right now we have basic needs to take care of, like food, shelter—weapons.” Doppelganger, who had been digging in the dirt with a stick, looked up, finally interested. “And we need to address those issues before we can afford the luxury of discovering our purpose. Hopefully the game concepts we know, that we’re expert at, apply to this world.”
“I’m hungry,” said Nerdraaage.
“Hunger is not a game concept,” said Elftrap.
“It is,” corrected Dangalf. “You might not feel hunger, but it affects your stamina, how well your character plays. Remember the Triangle of Achievement when you first began the game? At the bottom was Preservation. That’s where we are. We need food, shelter, and defense.”
“We need money,” said Nerdraaage. “Gold.”
“So, according to the rules of the game, we need to head to town to pick up some quests for money,” said Dangalf.
“Which town?” asked Elftrap.
“We should each go to our racial home towns,” said Nerdraaage. “That’s the way it is in the game.”
“No,” countered Dangalf. “We should stick together. We’ll be safer that way. The Keepers of the Broken Blade is a good group. In that respect we’ve already achieved an advanced phase of the triangle: bonding. It will make the Preservation step that much easier.”
“Where then?” asked Elftrap.
“Hempshire,” said Doppelganger.
“Of course y
ou want to go there,” said Nerdraaage. “You two are humans.”
“It just makes sense,” said Dangalf. “We are two humans but only one each dwarf and elf. You can only begin your training in your own racial land. This will allow two of us to train before we venture to elven and dwarven lands. We’re stronger if we stay together. If we die in the game, we can be resurrected. But there’s no reason to believe that’s true here.”
“But Hammersmith is a dwarven town!” insisted Nerdraaage. “They’ll have the best food, the best gear, great stone-wrought buildings, and dwarven hospitality!” His enthusiasm startled the others.
“How do you know that?” asked Dangalf.
“I don’t know,” said Nerdraaage. “I just know.”
“The rest of you can go anywhere you like,” said Doppelganger finally and with finality. “I’m going to Hempshire.” Doppelganger leapt up and started down the road toward Hempshire without looking back. Elftrap followed leisurely. Dangalf stood with Nerdraaage.
“Come on, Nerd.” Nerdraaage finally sighed and walked past Dangalf toward Hempshire. Dangalf slapped him on the back affectionately and was startled by the solid mass that met his arm. He was a knot of muscle over thick bones.
Doppelganger walked purposefully and found himself stopping repeatedly and impatiently for the rest of the Keepers. Dangalf and Elftrap both seemed to revel in the simple communion with nature brought on by walking down a deserted dirt road. They walked casually and not especially quietly because they did not notice they were being followed by well-armed and bloodthirsty foes.
Elftrap stopped. “There’s a man on a wagon coming.”
“How do you know?” asked Dangalf.
“I can smell him.”
“Do you smell the wagon too?” scoffed Nerdraaage.
“The wheels need grease.”
“Should we hide?” asked Nerdraaage.
“No,” said Doppelganger.
“We have to meet with the people here eventually,” said Dangalf. “A lone traveler seems like a safe introduction.”
The man looked at them suspiciously as he approached. Dangalf walked to him with a broad smile, and the man stopped his horse and leveled a pitchfork at Dangalf. Dangalf raised his hands nervously.
“Hey, it’s cool!” said Dangalf.
“Excuse us,” said Elftrap. “We were just wondering if you could tell us where we are?”
“What kind of question is that?” answered the man.
“We’re kind of lost,” said Dangalf. “We were just wondering where we are.”
“Well, right now you’re no place. You’re between places. But you are on your way to Hempshire.”
“And this,” said Dangalf motioning about. “This is the mythical land of Acadia.”
“Mythical land of Acadia?” asked the man. “Are you daft? It’s Acadia.”
“Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
Nerdraaage walked around the wagon, excitedly examining its authenticity. Suddenly he reached into the back and grabbed a large, folded, leathery item from under a covering.
“A dragon wing!” he shouted. The man stood quickly, and Nerdraaage had to fall to the ground not to be speared by the man’s pitchfork.
“Bandits!” yelled the man. He leapt from the wagon and raised his pitchfork to impale Nerdraaage. Instinctively Doppelganger grabbed the pitchfork and took it from the man. He and the man were both surprised by the ease in which he did so. The others watched quietly.
Doppelganger’s mind flashed with possibilities. He could snap the pitchfork in half. He somehow knew he was strong enough to do that even though it was hard wood. Or should he impale the man on the pitchfork for daring to attack one of his friends? No, he decided, that would be an overreaction, and he was surprised it even presented itself as an option. He decided to hand the pitchfork back to the man as a sign of goodwill. The man took it hesitantly.
“You ask odd questions. And I care not for the company you keep,” said the man looking between the dwarf and she-elf. “I bid you farewell.” He returned to his wagon and rode on.
“Godspeed,” said Dangalf. Turning to his friends, he explained, “That’s what people used to say.” They watched as the man went the way they had come.
“That wing would have paid for everything we need,” said Nerdraaage.
“You think?” said Dangalf.
Nerdraaage nodded. Blackguards were not allowed to wear any armor heavier than leather, and dragonwing was the lightest and strongest and rarest of leathers.
“It’s very expensive,” agreed Elftrap, whose druid avatar was also restricted to leather armor. “In the game at least.”
“Oh my gods,” said Dangalf. “If there are dragon wings, then there are dragons.” Suddenly they all found themselves scanning the sky nervously. Only Doppelganger took any satisfaction in thinking of a sky full of dragons. If there were dragons, then there were dragon riders. He might become a dragoon after all.
Suddenly, Elftrap cried out, “No!”
“What?” asked Dangalf. Before she could answer, a group of black-clad figures rushed from the woods and ambushed the man in the wagon. He fought valiantly with his pitchfork, but he was outnumbered and outclassed.
Doppelganger’s warrior blood began to boil, and he charged down the road. Dangalf grabbed his arm and was pulled for several yards before he could sway Doppelganger with one sentence: “What are you going to do without a sword?”
Nerdraaage and Elftrap joined them at the spot where Doppelganger had dragged Dangalf. Fortunately they were still a good distance from the carnage up ahead. The man in the wagon was ultimately overpowered, and his death cry echoed back to the four watching.
“Trolls?” asked Doppelganger.
“Humans,” answered Elftrap.
“Human-on-human violence?” asked Nerdraaage.
“The Temple,” said Dangalf, and the others believed him to be right. The Temple of the Red Rose. The deadly and merciless fanatics led by the Witchfinder General. The four had just defeated the general in the game, but apparently he was still a threat in this world. Or at least his followers were.
The killers took the horse and the dragon wing into the woods. One dallied to savagely remove the corpse’s head. He raised the bloody head and his sword in taunt at the Keepers and howled a blood-curdling scream.
Seeing that they would not respond, the assassin sauntered into the woods with his trophy, his laughter echoing back to them. The four, the once-mighty Keepers of the Broken Blade, were humbled by their new reality. Doppelganger was red faced with anger and shame.
After waiting a good amount of time, the three males slowly and carefully walked to the wagon and confirmed what they had seen. Elftrap remained behind. The murder had overpowered her senses even from a distance, and she did not need closeness to it. Dangalf thought the victim might have letters or some other identification, but he had none.
Nerdraaage didn’t look at the victim. His ruddy complexion was pale, and he seemed uncharacteristically nervous, at least for a dwarf (or what they knew of dwarves from game lore). Nerdraaage was terrified and sickened by the whole experience. He only followed the others to the wagon so as not to be shamed by staying back with the she-elf.
The four of them had all at various times and to varying degrees wanted to live in the world of Acadia as if it were real. Now that fantasy turned reality had become nightmarish. “We could die here,” said Elftrap when they walked back to her.
“If there’s a way into this world, there’s a way back,” said Dangalf.
“If I had my axe, things would have ended differently,” said Doppelganger.
“You could have gotten us all killed,” said Dangalf. “What possessed you to charge, unarmed, toward those guys?”
Doppelganger didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t answer. Words and concepts swirled about his head, but he couldn’t articulate them. In fact, even the word “articulate” was no longer part of his vocabulary. He grew frustrated as
the others watched him for a response. What had possessed him? “Blood,” he finally grunted before turning and again leading the way toward Hempshire.
Dangalf suddenly feared that geography and anatomy might not be the only changes that they had experienced in coming here. He worried that his smart, funny, gentle friend might no longer be any of those things.
V
They walked for hours. Doppelganger felt as though he could walk to the end of the world on these new legs, but the others lagged behind. Dangalf thought back to the game and how the walk from noob central to Hempshire was only about two minutes for his character to make at full trot. That short journey seemed annoying enough when he was impatient to play. Now he wondered if Hempshire was just a name painted on the sign and did not really exist.
“It doesn’t take this long to walk to Hempshire in the game,” said Nerdraaage.
“So they shortened it for the game,” said Elftrap.
“You say that as if the game makers knew of this world,” laughed Dangalf.
“They got the idea from somewhere,” said Elftrap.
“Cronica Acadia,” said Dangalf with sudden realization. “They based the game on a pulp fantasy.” Maybe not so much fantasy after all, he thought.
“Finally.” She smiled and nodded down the road. The others understood that they were near.
Hempshire might have disappointed someone who expected gleaming white castles and princesses riding in gold-leaf carriages, but to the Keepers, it was like coming home. They had all visited it many times over the years and were astounded to see it in reality and not entirely different than that envisioned by the game makers.
The first noticeable feature was a high wooden wall that seemed to run for hundreds of yards on both sides of an open gate. Guards stood by the main gate with long spears and shields with the Great Lighthouse on it.
“Their shields are red, white, and blue, like America,” said Nerdraaage.
“Actually, red, white, and blue like the ancient divisions of our old world,” said Dangalf. “Divisions that still exist in this world. Red for the warrior, white for magical classes, and blue for the craftsmen.”
Cronica Acadia Page 3
