Land of the Undying Page 4

  So as a level 20, if Mace died here, he’d lose zero experience. And compared to the loot he’d just picked up, losing his most valuable equipped item meant little.

  There was still the pain, of course. Dying, or being injured in Elysia was no joke. The pain sensors were not adjustable without a petition to the company that included a medically or psychologically valid reason. So, a cut felt like a cut, 100%. Taking a wound serious enough to kill sent many players out of immersion, and in no big hurry to log back in.

  Feeling invulnerable, but not stupid, Mace retreated to the back room after closing and locking the front door. He took a moment to look around the room for any additional treasures. There were a couple of spellbooks that might be valuable laying on the floor next to an overturned table. He swept those up and into his inventory, then began to search the desk. He found several vials of potions, some spell ingredients, a small pouch that contained 120 gold, and a ring. He equipped the ring before making a calm, but still hasty, exit out the window.

  *****

  That was the very ring that Mace wore now as he prepared to leave his room at the inn. That very profitable day had been four months ago. Well before the world ended. He had managed to raise himself up to level 28 during the time between then and now. He thought to himself ‘stats’ and took a quick look at the character sheet that appeared in a translucent blue box on his UI.

  Character Name: Mace Class: Sorcerer Level 28

  Race: Drow Spec: Darkblade Experience: 2,800/4,000

  Health: 1200/1200 Mana: 300/300 Attribute Pts Avail: 1

  Stamina: 14 Wisdom: 19 Charisma: 10 Life Regen: 12/sec

  Strength: 12 Intellect: 21 Dexterity: 10 Mana Regen: 3/sec

  Agility: 10 Luck: 10 Armor: 15 Skill pts avail: 0

  In Elysia every player, regardless of race or class, started the game with ten points in each of the major attributes. For each new level attained, they received one attribute point that could be assigned wherever the player chose. There were no automatic points awarded based on class. If a player wanted to roll a warrior, and pile all their points into charisma, that was up to them. They’d be the most popular guy in the tavern, and the least popular in raid groups.

  At level 20, Mace had been able to choose a specialization. This was done so that players could get to know their characters, make some friends, join a guild, generally get a good idea what purpose they wanted their toon to serve by the time they specialized. Unfortunately for Mace, there would be no more guilds, no more raid groups. He had chosen the specialization that seemed like the most fun. Because he had no group role to fill.

  Mace opened the door and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He made his way to the stairs and descended into the tavern below. The innkeeper greeted him with a grunt and a nod. Mace had been staying at this particular inn since the day the game launched. Before embracing the drow way of life, he’d foolishly tried to gain reputation with the innkeeper by buying him drinks, over-tipping, and attempting friendly banter. Mace’s reputation had only gone down. Until he’d killed a pickpocket he caught trying to lift his purse. That act had earned him grudging respect.

  “Yeah, I missed you too.” He winked at the man as he passed the bar, headed for a table. He sat down, saying “Breakfast. The usual.” in as gruff a tone as he could manage. The key to life here was to project enough strength that you didn’t seem worth the effort to kill, without projecting so much strength as to be considered a threat to be eliminated.

  A waitress brought him a plate of sautéed mushrooms with gravy, a single boiled egg, and half a loaf of bread. She set a mug of ale down next to the plate, then turned away without a word, or a smile. He tucked into the food, acquiring a buff from the gravy that gave him +2 to stamina. If he drank enough of the ale, he would get a +2 to charisma buff, but he suspected that was just a developer’s joke.

  Finishing his breakfast, he left twenty-five silver on the table. Breakfast was 20, the rest was for the waitress. A reward for her sparkling personality.

  Stepping outside he was greeted by the eternal darkness of the underground city. The drow had a natural ability to see clearly in the dark. But the other inhabitants of Immernacht, the kobolds, duergar, goblins and other ‘lesser’ races were not so fortunate. Their dark vision was more limited. So, to avoid constant collisions, the elders set street lamps with faint red magic flames every sixty feet or so. The glow was sufficient to light the way without irritating the sensitive eyes of the drow. As a result, everything in the city had a reddish tinge to it.

  Out of habit, he checked the general forums for traffic. Three months ago, the channel would have been scrolling so fast that it was nearly impossible to read. Millions of people expressing their opinions on varied topics, or just shouting random thoughts like “Gnomes Rule!”. Multiple channels were required to handle the traffic.

  Today though, as with most days over the last several weeks, the channel was silent.

  “So, it’s just me and the NPCs again.” Mace said aloud. He caught himself doing that more and more, lately. He knew it was a bad sign, but didn’t see what he could do about it. Outside the game there wasn’t another living soul to talk to.

  Not that there were any live humans in the game anymore, either. He was hoping that once he reached level 30, he could leave the city and hit the surface world, maybe find a player or two there.

  But first he had to reach level 30. There was a plethora of epic quests posted on the board in the main square. But most of them required a group of three to five players to complete. Boss kills, dungeon clears, all of those were unavailable to him as a single player. So as usual he scoured the board for decent solo quests.

  He found one likely candidate—an assassination quest with a twist. He needed to also recover a stolen brooch. It was worth 1,000 xp. That was nearly enough to take him to level 29. If there was some killing involved, that might just do it.

  He followed the directions on the flyer to a tavern on the south side of the city, near the wall. Stepping inside, he found a variety of patrons sitting at tables or standing at the bar. There were goblins, trolls, duergar, and a few drow that he could see. All of them wore traveling gear, which made sense. This close to the south gate, there would be a lot of caravan guards and guides to escort traders moving between the drow cities.

  Striding up to the bar, Mace waited patiently for the bartender to approach. The orc looked to have rock troll blood in him. He stood a solid eight feet tall with shoulders wider than most horses. His skin was a mottled green and grey. “What’ll ya have?”

  “Brandy, please.” Mace replied, sliding the flyer across the bar. The bartender took a look at the paper and grunted. He reached below the bar and produced a bottle of brandy and an appropriate glass. As he poured, he asked “Ya think ya got what it takes?”

  Mace nodded, his face grim. “If not, I’ll be dead, and you’ll just have to pin that flyer back up.”

  “HA!” the orc’s burst of laughter shook the room and caused several patrons to spill their drinks. “True enough. Ya got balls, at least. Here, take this bottle, head to the back. I’ll join ya in a few minutes.” The orc slid the brandy across to Mace.

  Mace grabbed it before it could slide off the bar, and headed toward the indicated door. He found himself in a kitchen staffed by two more orcs nearly as large as the bartender. One, a female with a clear family resemblance, pointed to a second door that led off to one side of the kitchen. He followed her silent instruction, and found himself in a small private dining room. Taking a seat, he sipped cautiously at the brandy. It tasted sweet before it burned its way down his gullet. Mace set the glass down after another sip. ”It’s a bad idea to get drunk around strangers in Immernacht. Or friends. Or family.” thought Mace.

  The orc joined him shortly. “Name’s Grunk. Don’t tell me yours. If you get captured, I want to be able to say I never heard of ya.” the massive orc ginned at him. “Here’s the job. My brother and me, we come from a
village up on the mountain. We were captured, along with my wife and daughter, during a drow raid one night. Brought down here as slaves. Took twenty years, but I earned our freedom, and enough money to buy this place. I did it by fightin’ in the arena.”

  “That’s a rough road. Congratulations.” Mace acknowledged as politely as he could.

  The orc eyed him for a moment, as if trying to judge if he was for real, then continued. “Our mother and father died in the raid. The only thing I have to remember them by is a brooch. It’s black and silver. My brother stole it, and has been trying to sell it.”

  “The thing is, it’s basically worthless. He still has it because nobody will give him what he wants for it. The dumb rockskull thinks he’ll find a sucker, and retire from the gold it gets him.”

  “So, you want me to be that sucker?”

  Grunk shook his head. “I don’t care how you get the brooch. Just get it, and bring me my brother’s head. He’s dishonored my family for the last time. I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly stealthy. The brooch isn’t worth losing my own head, if I get caught.”

  Mace laughed “So you’ll leave it to me to lose mine. I don’t blame you. I’ll get your brooch back. How far away is your brother, and exactly how heavy is his head going to be,” he made a show of studying Grunk’s massive melon.

  “HAHAHA!” Grunk slammed a fist down on the table. “I like ya!”

  Quest Accepted: Dunk Must Die

  Difficulty: Medium

  Find Dunk and remove his head. Return it to Grunk along with the family heirloom. Don’t die.

  Reward: 10 gold; 1,000 xp.

  Grunk continued “Ya can find him in the blacksmith’s section. Yarg’s shop. He works there. Ya can’t miss him. Big as me, twice as ugly!”

  Mace rose to leave, and Grunk followed. He gave Mace a solid clap on the shoulder that was going to leave a nasty bruise. “Good luck, friend.”

  Mace left the tavern and made his way across town. The blacksmith section was on the west side. There was an iron mine on that side of the cavern, and the smiths could get easy access to the ore.

  Immernacht wasn’t the sort of place one could stop and ask directions. So Mace made his way from shop to shop, looking for a giant orc that looked like Grunk. Only uglier.

  He found his target at the fourth shop he visited. Dunk was unloading a wagon behind the smithy, lifting several long rods of iron stock at once and depositing them in a bin near the alley. Mace didn’t see anyone else around, so he approached the orc. Dunk was truly as large as his brother, if not larger. He had the same mottled skin and wide shoulders, massive arms, and hands the size of cart wheels. Mace noticed the family brooch was pinned directly to the hide of Dunk’s chest. It was an ugly thing with a roughly cut stone and a silver setting that looked like it had been shaped by a child.

  “Hey, you. Is this Yarg’s shop?” he asked in as authoritative voice as he could muster. He was, after all, a drow.

  “Yup. Who’re you?” Dunk responded.

  “I’m here to commission a special blade. Tell Yarg I’m here.”

  Dunk looked confused. “Yarg not here. You wanna wait?”

  Mace looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ll wait.” Dunk just grunted and went back to unloading. Mace let him work for a few minutes, then asked “What is that pinned to your chest? A medal? Were you a soldier?”

  Dunk, not quite as dumb as he looked, dropped the iron he’d been holding. “Yes. Orc army. Hero medal. Highest honor. Give’d to me for killing 100 kobolds in one fight. Very valuable.” he eyed Mace hopefully.

  Mace obliged him. “You must be very proud. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to part with it? It would make a perfect gift for a friend who loves all things military.”

  “Dunk has sick mother. Needs medicine. Expensive medicine. And decent food to eat. Dunk only has medal to sell. Not happy, but will sell for 50 gold.”

  Mace kept a straight face. The ugly thing wasn’t worth a single gold. Grunk wasn’t kidding about it only having sentimental value. Still, Mace played along. “I’m afraid I don’t have 50 gold on me. It isn’t safe to walk around the city with that much gold. But if you’ll accompany me back to my home, I have more gold there.”

  Dunk’s eyes lit with greed. He nodded his head, saying “Dunk escort you. You’ll be safe. Nobody screws with Dunk the Hero!”

  So Mace led the massive orc away from the smithy and northward to the temple section. Drow worshipped a variety of gods, and each one required regular sacrifice. A solid 15% of the slave market trade went to providing sacrifices for the temples. At any given time of day or night, screams could be heard ringing through the temple district like church bells in a human kingdom. It was a good place to murder someone without drawing attention.

  Mace looked back at Dunk, saying “Shortcut” as he turned into an alley between two ornate temples. The orc followed him without hesitation. At the end of the alley, Mace turned left into a smaller alley, then halted. Looking around in confusion, he said “I think we made a wrong turn.”

  Dunk shrugged, looking around the alley. Naturally, he turned himself around to head back the way they’d come. As soon as he did so, Mace drew his sword and plunged it into the orc’s back. Dunk roared in pain and in rage as the blade failed to reach his heart. It seemed Dunk’s rock troll blood made his skin and bones quite a bit tougher than normal.

  Mace was barely able to withdraw his sword before the orc spun around, aiming a massive backhand at Mace.

  Mace ducked under the blow, and activated his ring. The spell he chose was a summoning spell. He called out a two-word phrase “Stone Golem!” and the ring pulsed with magic. A blue flash temporarily blinded Dunk. The orc put his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyes. When he opened them again, he found an 8-foot tall stone golem standing between him and Mace.

  Dunk shouted “Why you attack? Dunk doesn’t even know you!”

  Not waiting for an answer, he stepped forward and attempted to shove the stone golem out of his way.

  The golem reacted to the attack. It grabbed Dunk’s wrists in its own massive hands and began to squeeze. Dunk howled in pain and kicked the stone golem backwards into Mace. The orc took damage as skin was ripped from his wrists by the departing golem. Mace took crushing damage as the golem fell against him. His health bar dropped to 60%.

  Dunk was already stepping over the fallen golem to get to Mace. But his summoned minion wasn’t through yet. It reached up and pulled at Dunk’s leg, throwing him off balance. The two of them tangled on the ground. They rolled back and forth, punching and grabbing, stone grinding against flesh and bone.

  Mace regained his feet and stepped closer to the battle. Dunk currently had the upper hand. He had managed to roll on top of the golem and straddle it. He was trying to pin its hands when Mace stepped behind him. With all his might, Mace swung his sword at Dunk’s neck. The sword did its job, mostly. Dunk’s neck was half severed, great fountains of greyish-green blood spouting across the alley. He quickly took a second swing as Dunk futilely tried to stem the flow of blood with his hand. This time the sword passed cleanly through, and Dunk’s head fell to the alley floor.

  Unfortunately for Mace, Dunk’s body fell forward, burying the brooch under about a thousand pounds of half-orc flesh.

  Mace commanded his badly damaged golem to roll the body over before dismissing it back to the nether realm. He used his knife to cut the brooch from Dunk’s chest, then looted the orc’s body. Not surprisingly, the orc had nothing of value to take. Some die carved from kobold bone, a pouch with thirty coppers in it, and a rusted knife that would have served as a dagger for Dunk, but was nearly a sword for Mace. Still, he could sell it all for maybe a silver. It was against his instincts to leave any kind of loot behind.

  Wiping the worst of the orc-blood spatter from his clothes and boots, Mace left Dunk’s body for the scavengers, taking the head and placing it in his bag before making his way back toward Grunk’s tavern. He drank one of his mi
nor healing potions as he walked. It was a bad idea to be moving about this city at less than full health.

  Arriving back at the tavern, he nodded at a surprised Grunk as he passed through the bar, and headed directly for the small dining room. The bottle of brandy was still there so, Mace helped himself to two good shots before Grunk joined him.

  “Ya change yer mind? Lemme guess. Ya found Dunk, and decided he was too much to handle?”

  Mace just winked at the orc, pulled Dunk’s head from his bag, and set it on the table. Then he produced the brooch, and balanced it atop the skull.

  “Ya actually did it! Well I’ll be a dung lizard’s ball sack! Didn’t believe ya could pull it off!” Grunk picked up the brooch, pulled off the rough patches of Dunk’s skin still stuck to it, then pinned it on his own chest.

  Quest Complete: Dunk Must Die!

  Rewards: 1,000 xp; 10 gold.

  Mace shook hands with Grunk and headed for the door. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He said. Grunk ignored him, staring at his brother’s head and shaking his own.

  Feeling tired from a busy day in and out of the game, Mace used his recall stone to teleport himself back to his room at the inn. He set his staff against the wall, and sat down on the bed. “One more level, and I’m out of here.” He said aloud.

  Laying back on the bed, he logged out of the game.

  Chapter 3

  Forsaken

  After a solid six hours’ sleep in his real-world bed, Mace got up and went to the cafeteria’s kitchen. He pulled down the box of pancake mix from a pantry shelf. The kind that didn’t need eggs or milk. “Just add water” Mace said to himself, reading the box. The mix didn’t make the tastiest, fluffiest pancakes in the world, but they were still damn good. And he was mostly in it for the maple syrup. He whipped up some batter in a stainless mixing bowl, turned on one burner on the commercial stovetop, and heated a frying pan. A few minutes later he sat on a stool right there at the counter and dug into a stack of warm pancakes soaked in maple syrup.