by Ramy Vance
I couldn’t be happier … I mean, I not only get to collaborate with one of the most successful indie authors ever, but we were actually building a universe.
Talk about Ultimate Cosmic Power (and an itty-bitty laptop). What? Not an Aladdin fan…
Anyway, I digress. Launch day is fast approaching, we’re starting the pre-launch buzz and then it happened. We got hit by an author friend and former lawyer who said, and I quote, “What the fuck are you doing? You can’t call your book Middle3arth.”
“Why not?” we proclaimed.
“Because it’s copyrighted, dingbats.” Yes, he really did call us dingbats. People do talk like that. Well, lawyers based out of Alaska do, at least.
“But … but … we like Middle3arth.”
“And Tolkien’s lawyers like money.”
“But … but … Middle3arth is a great title.”
“And Tolkien’s lawyers are great at getting your money.”
“But … but … we already have the cover.”
“Fuckity, fuck, fucknessity.” Another direct quote. I don’t know what Alaskan lawyers are into, but this was getting weird.
“So no way we can call it Middle3arth?”
“No way.”
“No way at all?”
“No way at all.”
“Fuck. Then what do we call it?”
“I don’t know,” quoth the lawyer turned author, “it’s your fucking story.”
So Michael and I scrambled until we finally found Middang3ard (the ‘3’ is an ‘E’). An old word spelling for Middengard (with a better location for the ‘E,’ too. Looks cooler). And there you have it … the birth of Middang3ard.
Fucking Lawyers.
Late To The Party
Middang3ard Book Two
Chapter One
Beneath the streets of Eleshier were catacombs that stretched far beyond the reach of the city. It was said that they were created thousands of years before the elves moved to the realm.
They’d been carved out by creatures who slunk in the darkness, etching their likenesses into the cold, wet stone, groping about in the darkness as if they were looking to find some kind of meaning or perhaps create their own.
The catacombs were left untouched for thousands of years, the smell of death festering in their walls as those who were entombed rotted away, along with the subsequent civilizations that had risen and fallen. The current residents of Eleshier avoided the catacombs.
They dumped their shit in them and left it at that.
It was this shit that the Mundanes were trekking through. Robert “Suzuki” Fletcher led them down the claustrophobic corridors. He held a torch that cast a flickering light across the smooth sandstone.
He wore tight-fitting leather armor he had picked up a few weeks ago that was decorated with two sets of runes. The purpose of the runes had been lost on him, but he had been told they might be helpful. His helmet hid a scarred and burned face covered in stubble. His short sword was chipped, and his shield was covered in basilisk hide.
Stew followed closely on Suzuki’s heels. He was a hulk of a man whose true nature was betrayed only by the softness of his acne-scarred face. His eyes rapidly searched the darkness, and he gripped his torch so tightly that his fingers were nearly as white as the sandstone walls. He wore hardly any armor, only a steel kilt. His chest was covered in myriad deep, long scars. What he lacked in armor, he made up in weaponry. Throwing daggers were strapped to his war-painted chest, and short swords, longer daggers, and a great sword hung from his waist.
The barbarian seemed more jittery than Suzuki, and he puffed out his chest as if to prove to himself that he wasn’t afraid. Still, his free hand hovered over the hilt of one of his short swords.
Behind Stew was a young woman named Sandy, whose long hair was pulled back in a braid. She did not carry a torch. Instead, a flame flickered in her open palm. She wore no armor, only an ornate set of robes with embroidered arcane symbols . Her feet floated a couple inches off the ground, her toes lightly scraping the stone floor as she glided forward.
She didn’t seem to care much about the narrowness of the walls. In her free hand, she held a book which she winked at every time she wanted to flip the page.
Stew jogged to catch up with Suzuki. “How much longer are we going to be slogging around down here?” he whined.
Suzuki sighed and looked at Stew. “We all spent long enough staring at that bullshit map. You couldn’t make any more sense of it than I could. But if you would prefer to be the one leading the way into the caverns of darkness, please, be my guest.”
“Dude, you know I have that whole dark thing.”
“You mean being afraid of the dark?”
Sandy closed her hand, and not only did the flame in her hand go out, but so did the light from their torches.
Stew yelped.
With a snap of her fingers, a small fire burned from the palm of her hand, illuminating the dark corridors again. “Nyctophobia,” Sandy chimed in with a devious giggle.
“Yeah, that,” Stew said.
Suzuki turned his head so Stew couldn’t see his smirk. “Kids are afraid of the dark. You are not a kid. You’re a big-ass, manly man, right?”
Stew looked down at his boots. He sighed and nodded his head. “Yeah. I’m a big-ass, manly man.”
“You know,” Sandy cut in, “it says that the people who used to live down here once conducted human sacrifices to communicate with their gods. The elves say that when they first disturbed the graves, they unleashed an army of spirits who possessed the first villagers and made them turn on each other. And that was when they started to hear the voices coming from the catacombs, telling them to—”
Suzuki turned to Sandy, his lips pursed. “Sandy, will you cut it out with all the history lessons.”
Sandy floated closer to Suzuki and Stew. She closed her book, and it vanished. Another fireball snapped into existence in her open hand.
“Why?” she leaned forward menacingly, the flames of the fire casting shadows across her face giving her a corpse-like appearance. “Are you getting afraid, too, Suzuki? That maybe, just maybe, whatever was locked down here…” Sandy whipped her head around suddenly. “Did you guys hear that?”
Suzuki sucked in a deep breath. “Not funny.” He was happy that his helmet was on. He was pretty sure that he had just dropped three shades of color in his face.
Sandy’s smile widened, and all the menace in her face was replaced by a smile far too cute for where they were. “You both need to chill out. These catacombs have been abandoned for hundreds of years, which is why we’re stuck with basic groundskeeper duties.”
Suzuki shook his head. “This is not groundskeeper duty. We are on an important quest.”
“Dude,” the barbarian chimed in. “We’re killing giant rats. How many times in the last week have we been sent to dank places like this to kill a nest of giant rats?”
Suzuki sighed. “Actually called a ‘mischief’ of rats. I told you that last time. But these are undead rats, so would it still be a mischief? Maybe something like a ‘macabre’ or a ‘naughtiness’ of rats, or—”
“Suzuki, nobody cares what the rats are named.”
Suzuki looked at Sandy for support. Even in the dark, he could see the apathy on her face. “You don’t care about the historical significance of the caverns we’re exploring or the fact that we might be the first people to uncover its secrets in at least five hundred years. But you do care about what a herd of rats is called. Priorities, man. Priorities.”
“Mischief,” Suzuki muttered, “Mischief of rats.” But they were right, killing a bunch of rats, whatever they were called, was shitty work, work that Suzuki hoped would give them what they needed to accomplish their r
eal mission: saving Beth.
Stew cocked a thumb in Suzuki’s direction. “This guy is hopeless. Can we just get back to walking?”
The Mundanes started down the dark, winding underground tunnels again.
Suzuki was keeping quiet. He didn’t want to disclose how frustrated he was getting with the journey. Stew and Sandy were right. These quests, if you could call them that, were nothing more than vermin extermination. Granted, the exterminations were of very large, dangerous vermin. But in the grand scheme of things, they weren’t heroes.
They were pest control.
Their skills weren’t being put to use. And to add insult to injury, it didn’t seem that any of this was helping him or the rest of the Mundanes figure out a way to save Beth.
It almost felt as if the MERCs were intentionally wasting their time.
Suzuki couldn’t imagine why they would be doing that, though. Milos, a high-ranking dwarf MERC, had vouched for them on multiple occasions. They were one of the few new recruit parties who were qualified to hit the field without any veterans watching over them.
And they hadn’t suffered any casualties worse than a few sword wounds or burns. Yet here they were, walking through another set of catacombs with yet another terribly-drawn map, looking for rats. At least they were just rats this time. Suzuki was still trying to scrub the smell of basilisk shit out of his armor.
Stew scraped his daggers against the stone wall, causing a screeching noise that cut through Suzuki’s musings. “Do you guys remember that one raid we did? The one with all the Wyrm Sisters?”
Suzuki nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Remember how it wasn’t nearly as boring as this?”
“Fuck, Stew if you’re just going to—”
“I’m just joking. Just joking. Seriously though, I was asking because you brought it up last week. You said you wanted to see if we could find footage for some nerdy ass reason.”
Suzuki wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet so he could pinch the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “I wanted to review the video and take some tactical notes. There’s nothing nerdy about wanting to make sure that I don’t get us killed.”
Stew flexed, but his muscles were lost in the dark. “Just point me in the direction of whatever you want dead, that’s how we’re going to keep from getting killed. Anyways, I got the video last night from a homeboy. I DMed it to you earlier if you want to take a look at it.”
“Thanks, Stew.”
If Suzuki could see his face, he’d note that the barbarian was smiling, in a devilish way. “And I was thinking… You know, since I did you such a solid, you know, like a good friend does, maybe I’d get the first crack at any of the loot?”
Sandy and Suzuki chimed in unison, “No.”
The fire lighting their way flickered, threatening to go out, “No way,” Sandy said. “You got the first crack last time. Besides, I’m up.”
“Come on guys, you know I need—”
“Nope. As your fearless leader, I’ve been keeping tabs. We all agreed to the rotation. Sandy has first dibs this time. And you’re not allowed to say anything until three days afterward. I’m tired of you guilting everyone into giving you what you want.”
“If you guys weren’t so soft, you wouldn’t feel so guilty.”
Sandy floated closer to Stew and when she was next to him, floated up, bridging their height difference. Once she was face-to-face with him, she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Soft for you. When you’re hard, that is.”
“Oh, baby.”
Suzuki groaned. “Guys. Get a room.” And before Stew could say anything, Suzuki added, “After the mission.”
The Mundanes came to a fork in the tunnels with one veering off to the right and the other to the left. Suzuki consulted his map. “There’s no fork in the map,” he murmured.
Stew scoffed. “So what I’m hearing is you got us lost.”
“Sandy, you need to control your man.”
“He wouldn’t be my man if he was controllable,” Sandy purred.
“Why don’t you just use that Find Target thing you’re always using?” Stew asked.
“One,” Suzuki started, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to always be relying on magic to figure out how to accomplish things. What if we end up in a non-magic area? What are we going to do then? Secondly, I want to conserve my mana so we don’t have to spend a couple of days down here trying to get back home. And thirdly—”
The barbarian lifted his hands in surrender. “All right, all right, I get the point. So, left or right?”
Suzuki walked over to the left opening. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear anything. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Sandy came up beside Suzuki and pulled out her book. She flipped through a couple of pages and stopped. She pointed at the opening on the right. “If either of you jackasses had been listening earlier, you would have heard me tell you that the crypts were always built to the right. The split in the tunnels was to confuse looters. Every turn we’re supposed to take is going to be a right. There’s a lot of them. I guess the idea was that people would eventually get fed up and try a left and get lost.”
Suzuki looked over Sandy’s shoulder, trying to make heads or tails of the scribbles on the page. “What language is that written in?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been using that Cypher SD that Diana gave me last week. It works pretty well. I’m thinking about splurging to have the Chipmaster upgrade it if we get a good haul on this one.”
“Why don’t you pump some cash into something more useful?” Stew asked.
“I dunno, honey. That Smell-o-vision SD that Suzuki got a while back has been pretty useful. Plus, I’ll get to read more. And more reading means more spells. You’ve been liking the spells I’ve been learning, right Stew?”
Stew laughed nervously and cleared his throat. “Yeah, they’ve been fun.”
“Gross,” Suzuki cut in. “All right. Right turns it is.”
They took the right turn and the tunnel instantly descended, the roof shortening so that the Mundanes had to crouch to continue moving forward.
It was not easy going.
The floor was muddy and covered with brittle things that Suzuki thought would be best to avoid looking at. Instead, he focused on the darkness beyond what their torchlight illuminated.
Suzuki let his mind wander as Sandy made her way to the front of the queue, guiding them through the next series of tunnels. It was nice to sit back and let Sandy take care of something.
Over the last couple of quests, she had started to take a more assertive position in what was being planned. It was greatly easing the general stress that had been building in Suzuki’s head about planning every step along the way. When Sandy knew something, she would speak up and help out, providing things that Suzuki wouldn’t have been able to see on his own.
Even Stew was trying his hand at different aspects of questing. The fact that Stew had gone out of his way to hunt down a video specifically for tactics was proof that he was learning to prioritize, even if the extent of his knowledge was defined by how to get the best loot for himself.
The Mundanes were not the same group they had been just a few months ago. The hours that they used to spend plugged into Middang3ard VR seemed like a lifetime ago. Suzuki didn’t even feel he resembled that person who had played that game for years. Even the initial recruitments with the military and their eventual poaching by the hands of the MERCs seemed like a distant memory.
There was just the here and now.
And now they were crunching bones and shit beneath their boots as they hunted a mischief of undead rats.
“Maybe a perversity of rats,” Suzuki muttered to himself, “That might work better than—”
“Drop it, Suzuki,” Sandy interrupted. “Do you hear that?”
Suzuki was silent. Sandy pointed down the tunnel. There was a sound of teeth gnawing wood, and a few screeches and squeals.
Stew started down the tunnel. �
��Sounds like rats to me.”
Suzuki grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving forward. “Remember what we talked about.”
“Yeah, yeah. Save the Leeroy Jenkins shit.”
Suzuki nodded. “Yep. Save the Leeroying for later. Come on. Let’s check it out. Slowly.”
The Mundanes walked down the tunnel. The walls were built farther away from each other here, and the ceiling opened up so that they no longer had to crouch. After a few feet, the tunnel opened up to a large crypt. Suzuki rested his hand on the wall. The sandstone had been replaced with brick.
Suzuki pointed his torch. “Sandy, can we get a little bit more light.”
A handful of small, non-flammable blue sparks floated out of Sandy’s hands. The sparks took an orb shape and floated down the tunnel, shedding light on the catacomb’s dark crevices.
Suzuki had been right. The walls were brick. What he hadn’t noticed though was that there were crypts dug into them. Thousands of skulls were stacked on top of each other. Their blank eyes stared out as if they were meant to watch whatever was coming to pass. The floor of the crypt’s open area was covered in bones, some more decomposed than others, although many of the bodies still wafted the fumes of the dead.
Among the skeletons and rotting corpses were rats. They were scuttling about, ignoring the lights that flickered over them. Each rat was nearly five feet, long, and they were indeed undead. Most of their flesh had rotted off and what was left was green and toxic-looking. Their hair had mostly fallen out, and the remainder was knotted up in mangy tuffs.
The undead rats gnawed at the flesh of the decomposing carcasses, occasionally snapping at each other. Their teeth, visible from behind their gaunt cheeks, never ceased moving.
Suzuki looked closer. He could see that there were even more rats than he had initially expected. Much of what he had thought were the bones of humans were nothing more than smaller rats piled on top of each other. The floor looked as if it were waving back and forth because of the unceasingly moving, ironically dead bodies.