Warfang: (Sky Realms Online Book 5): A LitRPG Series

by Troy Osgood

  Dried blood covered the ground, pieces of meat and bone on the ground. More bone and muscle in the chest cavity, everything else gone. Removed by the Gangori.

  Caryn stepped into the cavern, her globe shining more light, revealing more of the dead humanoid.

  It was about five feet tall. Not thin, thickly muscled but not stocky like a Dwarf. It wasn’t a Duntin. The skin was pale, like the Gangori. The head was covered in wispy long hair, with a thick ridge of bone above the small and deep-set eyes. No nose, just two slits below the eyes. A wide mouth showed lines of small sharp teeth.

  “What is that?” Caryn asked, holding the globe close to the face.

  “I have no idea,” Hall said, standing up. “Turned into the Gangori’s lunch.”

  He stepped closer to the pile of loose stone. Tons of small rocks, looking out of place. Hall looked up at the ceiling, expecting to see a crack or the stone missing from above. But there was nothing, just the rough ceiling. How had the stone gotten here? Why?

  This had to be the entrance, Hall thought. This was how the Cavlyn, Gangori and the mysterious leather wearers had come to the dungeon from deeper in the mountains, the underground realms. Somehow the passage had collapsed behind them.

  Did this mean no other mobs would be able to enter the dungeon?

  Hall had no idea how any of this worked. He’d have to talk with Brandif. He hoped the dungeon would repopulate. Caryn was moving from corpse to corpse, each the same. Dead, their muscles and organs harvested. She found two more of the serrated knives, storing them in her inventory pouch.

  Hall crouched down by the moss, surprised to see little flowers sprouting from the green spongy material. Only about an inch high, the flowers were the source of the glow. Pulling out his dagger, Hall worked to scrape some of the moss off the wall.

  It proved harder than the others. The first attempt ruined it, the flower shriveling up. With practice he managed to get enough. Barely.

  QUEST COMPLETE!

  SMALL FROST MOSS (repeatable)

  Gather Green Cavern Moss 13/12

  Gather Lavender Shining Moss 15/12

  Gather Striped Graystone Moss 14/12

  Gather Flowered Gem Moss 12/12

  Rewards: +150 Experience, +5 Experience per every 5 items beyond the requested.

  Skill Gain!

  Herbology Rank Two +.4

  He dismissed the notifications, disappointed there wasn’t any bonus experience for getting more than the requested items.

  “Hall,” Caryn called. She stood to the side of the pile of boulders, holding the Greenfire globe close to the wall.

  Coming up next to her, Hall wasn’t surprised he had missed it. The cavern wall jutted out, curling in on itself, making a hidden alcove behind, wrapping around something that Hall recognized.

  It stood about four feet high, a couple of inches around, growing wider at the base, one piece of stone grown out of the cavern floor. The sides were smooth; the top was notched in a hexagon shape, containing a green gem that glowed with an inner light. It fit snugly in the stone notch, barely rising above. Bending in close, trying not to be blinded by the light, Hall couldn’t see any seams between stone and gem, which pulsed slightly.

  Stepping back, he saw runes carved into the stone behind the pedestal. Shapes and patterns he recognized. The rune work, in a wide circle, surrounded a hexagon shape.

  The pedestal and the carvings reminded Hall of what they had found underneath Breakridge, in the small and old dungeon he had named Under Ridge. There had been hope, and a little fear, that the dungeon would repopulate once they cleared it, but that hadn’t happened. Hall and others had gone back down every couple of weeks to make sure it was still clear. Nothing had come through the small crack to repopulate the dungeon.

  He studied the pedestal and the green glowing gem.

  That gem was missing from Under Ridge.

  Was that what allowed the dungeon to repopulate? The magic of the gem called out to roaming monsters, drawing them here? That made some sense, in a way. A game mechanism that could be described in terms of the world around them.

  Hall walked away from the pedestal. He was happier having this dungeon respawn than the smaller one under Skara Brae.

  Chapter 20

  Hall stood on the top of the Breakridge, beneath the arch, looking out over the meadow that was his home and his land. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the village; the sun had set almost an hour ago, the nights getting dark quickly in the islands of Hankarth. He could see the shadowed shapes of the structures in the meadow, the moon shining down from above him, the light making it past the many islands above.

  He always paused when returning to his lands.

  The rest of the party walked past, too tired to stop and enjoy the sight. Light from the Greenfire globes highlighted their passage.

  Hall hoped he would never get tired of this view, looking down at his home.

  It had taken longer to clear the dungeon than he had planned. The walk back through the Frost Tips slower. He had hoped to return to Skara Brae before dinner. That hadn’t happened. It was well past. Torches lined the streets, just starting to be lit. One after another. The light just peeked out above ground, bits between the exposed roofs.

  He knew it wasn’t anyone waiting up for them. Brandif and the others would have returned hours ago. The rest of the citizens were used to Hall and the Breakridge Irregulars adventuring. The torches were for the visitors who were arriving for the celebration.

  Covered by the shadows of the Thunder Growls, Hall was still able to recognize the hull of the Twisted Gale. It was in the middle berth of the elevated dock, between the much smaller Ridgerunner and the Desmarik Republic ship.

  He started down the worn path into the meadow. The walk up to the Ridge had been hard, the trail switchbacking multiple times up the steep slope. Just wide enough for a single wagon, there were spots to turn around or pass another wagon at each of the switchbacks. A long walk up the steep slope, for horses or people, but it was a defensive measure. One that Hall was thankful for. It had stopped a Trow raiding party not that long ago.

  There had been wagon tracks on the path. Fresh. They had no wagons in the village, not yet, so the tracks had to belong to some of the other visitors. He hadn’t really expected them to come. The distance was great and through wild country.

  Walking down the slope, he could make out the shadowed forms of the wagons in a small cluster to the side of the village. He couldn’t see them all, just the back three. All were covered, wooden sides with canvas over the top, hanging off a single pole, making for steep sides.

  There was a single campfire before them, not large, using the wagons to shield it from the ever-present wind that blew across the meadow.

  Looks like everyone is here, Hall thought. He glanced to the north. There were no lights along the lower plateau of the first mountains. He caught the moonlight reflecting off the waterfalls above and below the plateau, sparkling as the river made its way to the pond at the base of the ridge. Was Leigh in the village or the Grove? He thought about sending Pike off to check, but the dragonhawk was still in the mountains to the north, hunting. If she was in the Grove, there was no way Hall would be able to sneak off to see her.

  He hoped she was in the village.

  Maybe not, he thought, knowing how much blood he was covered in. He probably stank pretty bad from sweat and blood.

  Another thing that had changed. Pre-Glitch, the stink of the body was not something they had been concerned with. There had been blood, they could be covered in it after a fight, but it would fade away soon as if it had never been. And there were settings to change the level of gore graphics. It could be very little to much more realistic. Now there was no setting to change. They got messy and had to clean up after.

  Hall really needed to get the leatherworker to fix his armor. It was patched in so many places, barely held together in others. The durability was low on all the regular pieces. The few magical ones he had
were in much better condition, though they too were in need of repair.

  The lights from the Greenfire globes spread out as the party walked down the road. Small points of green light in the dark. Having the open side of the meadow meant a constant wind, which blew against Hall as he walked down the ridge, but it also meant a view of the sky beyond not blocked by mountains.

  He could see the shadows of other islands and the pinpoint lights of stars beyond. There were no constellations in Hankarth, the movements of the islands and clouds making it hard to find the same points in the sky. The view was different everywhere you went, as the islands above at different angles and elevations changed what was seen.

  Hall was starting to recognize some of the clusters he could see from the ridge. He hadn’t come up with shapes or names yet. None had leapt out at him with a particular shape.

  Until tonight.

  He stopped halfway down the slope. Almost directly over Skara Brae, clear of any other islands, was a grouping of stars with a bright one in the middle. The way the stars were grouped, there appeared to be a circle cut in half, a couple of lines in the middle, more above and below, and a couple to the side.

  Hall had seen that shape before. A couple of times, and the last recently in the cluster of stone houses on the side of the Thunder Growls. And the other on the other side of the mountains.

  It appeared to be the mark of Bastian the Sage.

  That wasn’t possible. He shook his head, closing his eyes. Opening them, the same cluster was there. He could still see the shapes but not as clear. The mark was the only thing he knew that resembled the cluster; that was why his mind had put it there.

  And the brightest star, in the middle, didn’t fit into the pattern. The others all surrounded it, but it was isolated, not part of any of the shapes.

  Knowing how the natives regarded the Sage, Hall was not going to be mentioning it to anyone.

  Hall walked down the slope onto the road, turning left and crossing through the tunnel. He could hear noises from ahead, near the inn. The curving road turned around the central homes, and he saw the small gathering. More torches had been placed on poles set into the ground, casting light that filled the space between the buildings. The door to the inn was open, more sound coming from within the sunken space.

  Everyone from the party, but Roxhard, had turned right to find the homes they had claimed. Seo, living in the Grove, had walked off the main path a while ago. The Dwarf was already in the cluster of people. Hall could see the three Battleforge brothers, with mugs in hand, surrounding Roxhard, asking about the dungeon.

  Heads turned, looking past Roxhard, waving at Hall.

  Tiredly, he waved back. All he really wanted to do was clean up and sleep, but now he knew that wasn’t going to happen soon. He saw Captain Hart turn away, rotating back with two mugs in hand. Brandif was next to him, his own mug in hand. Garrick was talking with one of Hart’s sailors, a female Arashi Hall didn’t recognize.

  But the closer he got, he found he did know her.

  Barely.

  Idita, a Witch, he had used her services when passing through Land’s Edge Port to Scry the magic weapons he had found in the treasure chest in the Far Edge Peaks. The same chest the Duntin raiders had come after him for stealing. She was dressed far more functionally than the last, and only, time he had seen her. Trousers, a wool blouse, her long gray hair done up in a bun.

  No wonder he had thought her one of Hart’s crew.

  A couple of others made up the group, some citizens of Skara Brae and some of Hart’s sailors. It appeared some tables had been brought out from somewhere and placed on the road as stands for kegs. The Battleforge brothers always managed to come back with kegs of ale on the trips to Silverpeak Keep, more than Hall sent them to buy.

  “Welcome back, Lord Hall,” Captain Hart said with a deep bow.

  Instead of offering his hand, he offered a mug of ale.

  Hall took it with thanks.

  He took a long drink, savoring the taste. He was tired, but the ale was good.

  “Glad you could make it,” he said.

  “Brandif here was telling us about this dungeon,” Hart said, taking a step back, looking Hall up and down. “It sounds fun.”

  “Not quite the word I would use,” Hall replied. “But it was worth the trip. Although the enemies were ones I’d never heard of,” he added, turning to Brandif.

  “What were they?” the elder Skirmisher asked.

  “Large catlike creatures that moved and attacked silently and could hide in shadows. They were called Cavlyns. But it was the skinny and pale humanoids that were the oddest. Gangori.”

  He saw Idita’s head whip around mid-conversation with Garrick. She stepped toward Hall, her beautiful face a mixture of curiosity and concern.

  “Did you say Gangori?”

  Hall nodded. “Bloodcarvers, Bloodsingers, and the leader was a Blooddrinker. Have you heard of them?”

  Idita nodded. “Yes, but not down on these islands. They are not common, but have been seen in the deeper caves in the Arashi islands. I do not know how they would have ended up in the caves here.”

  Hall nodded politely but still thought it odd. Pre-Glitch, he had explored all of the islands that made up the Arashi Kingdom, as well as the other desert islands not officially part of the kingdom. There had never been any race called the Gangori. But if Electronic Storm had patched in a new race, it made sense they would patch in a history.

  He dismissed those thoughts, not really wanting to go down that path. It had been weird enough when an entire backstory had been created for Roxhard when they had voyaged to Axestorm Hall, the home of his in-game ancestors. Hall even had a village on an island to call his birthplace.

  He didn’t like thinking of the world that way. It just felt unnatural to think of someone typing in lines of code and changing the history of the world that he was living in. There were moments he remembered that he was stuck in a game, but they seemed fewer as more days went by.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you,” Hall said, changing the subject. He glanced past Idita to see Garrick a little displeased that his conversation with the pretty woman had been interrupted.

  “I wasn’t planning on being here,” she said with a shrug. “I decided I needed a change,” she continued. “Land’s Edge Port was growing old. I’ve known Hart for a long time and signed on with him for a bit to see where the winds took me.”

  “It was a deal I could not pass up,” Hart said. “I could never say no to one so beautiful,” he finished, bowing to Idita.

  She gave him a tired smile. Hall could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes.

  Hart hadn’t changed.

  There had to be more to the story, but Hall knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

  “Welcome to Skara Brae,” he said.

  Idita laughed, giving a bow of her head.

  “I must admit,” she said. “When you and your band walked into my shop, this is not where I expected to see you again.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  With a smile, Idita excused herself, returning to talking with Garrick.

  Hall wondered if they had already known each other. He had met Garrick and Brandif at the fighters’ guild hall in Land’s Edge Port. As adventurers, they probably had come across a lot of items that needed to be Scryed, so it made some sense they’d know the local Witch.

  Something about her being here bothered him, though. Not that she was there; that wasn’t the problem. It was the coincidence of her presence. They had recently gotten a lot of magical items that needed to be Scryed. They had no Witch and needed the services of one. And who should appear? A Witch who was high enough level to Scry and had done so for Hall already.

  “Hall,” he heard Hart say.

  Shaking his head, Hall focused on the ship captain. “Sorry, you were saying?”

  “I was congratulating you on your fleet,” Hart said with a smile. “The Ridgerunner is a remarkable ship, but that
other vessel, I have not seen the like before. Captain Stoneglare has said he’ll give me a tour tomorrow. I also noticed the two Duntin ships you have scuttled.”

  Hall laughed. “Not something I planned,” he said, taking another drink of his mug, only to find it empty. When had that happened? Hart took it from his hand, turning to the keg behind him and refilling it. Hall thanked him by taking a long drink. “I’m still not sure what we’ll do with the Red Blood Death.”

  “Besides rename her?”

  Hall laughed.

  “It’s a tough one,” Hart said, somewhat serious for once. “She looks like a good ship, but even if you clean her up, taking her anywhere will draw a lot of attention. Not all of it good. Someone will want to know where she came from and might be mighty tempted to take her.”

  Hall nodded. It was all stuff he had thought about and discussed with Gorid and Brandif. It was why the ship stayed where it was.

  “Where did you find her?” Hart asked. “Brandif and the others wouldn’t say. Or explain about the Gael with the strange accents or those others. Said it was your story to tell.”

  Hall looked up at the night sky, trying to find the moon, to judge the time. He glanced down at his mug, half full. It was late; he was tired.

  “It’s a bit of a long story.”

  Hall walked into the inn, holding onto the wall.

  He was even more tired now, and the couple of mugs of ale weren’t helping. The floor was five feet down, a set of stairs running parallel to the wall. Most of the tables were empty, the guests in the finished rooms accessed off the stair at the far end. Only Bradberry was still up, mug of ale to one side, candle on the other, parchment laid out in front of him. The older Arashi was tracing lines onto the paper, dipping the quill into a small bottle of ink. He looked up as Hall entered.