by K D Brand
True to form, Cord’s glare fell away the instant they passed the limited zone of his watchfulness. He went back to pacing aimlessly.
Ty chuckled and started instinctively toward the Orchid, the NPCs trailing behind. Then he stopped, causing Deven to stumbled into him from behind.
“What’s wrong?” the butcher mumbled, stepping back to give Ty room.
“I just remembered Defiler and his thugs are going to be waiting for me at the tavern; maybe you guys, too,” he groaned, frustrated that he’d dragged them into his drama. “And I was so looking to sitting down and relaxing for a bit since I can’t train, and now that it’s night, there’s really nowhere to go.”
“Perhaps now would be a good time to work on that collar?” Amon suggested, shrugging.
Ty brightened. “That ‘a great idea. We can go to your shop?”
Amon nodded. The others agreed, and they started off, following the feral, his tail swishing back and forth happily.
They made their way through town and, luckily, the shop was on the opposite side of Altunn to the Orchid. They ran across a number of PCs puttering about and avoiding going to sleep and possibly up to no good, but none of Defiler’s goons were out and about.
At the shop, unoriginally named Amon’s Crafts, he let them in and closed and locked the door behind them, drawing the shade so no one could see inside. He lighted a couple of effectively-placed lanterns, and the entire store was illuminated in a soft, dancing yellow glow.
Ty looked about, impressed at the array of tools and items. The shop was a noob’s treasure trove.
Shelves that covered all but the back wall were filled with a variety of crafting tools and their ingredients: small hammers, cutters, clips and belt loops, scraps of various materials, and boxes full of tiny little metal pieces Ty had no idea what they might be used for.
Dust covered everything, given Ty a good indication of how long it had been since Amon had last opened the doors to his shop. Ty circled the room, checking everything out and blowing some of the dust aside as Amon settled in a workbench near the back of the shop, pulling his chair up to it with a loud scrape.
“Bring me that collar,” he called out, waving Ty over.
Ty dug in his pack and pulled it over, then went over and dropped it on the table in front of Amon. “How long will this take?”
Amon paused for a moment, looking as though he were thinking about spitting out a stock answer, but he seemed to catch himself. “Not long.”
He went to work before Ty could say anything else. The feral’s clawed fingers danced around the collar, feeling every inch as though becoming familiar with it before he started working. Then, once he appeared satisfied, he turned the collar and picked up a pair of leather snips. He cut tiny little bits of the leather here and there, and it looked to Ty as if he were thinning it out and folding it back in on itself, adjusting the metal coils, rather than simply cutting and resizing it.
Rather than question the process, figuring Amon knew better than Ty what needed to be done, he untied the knots of rope that held his armor together and, with Char’s help, he took his jerkin off and thumped it down on the table to Amon’s left.
“I don’t really need to take my pants off, do I?” he asked, casting a nervous look at Amon.
The crafter chuckled. “By all means, no,” he replied. “I think I have enough leather to craft you a new pair entirely. The one’s you’re wearing are hideous and barely do anything.”
Ty growled, ready to argue that Amon could have done that a long time ago, but he bit his tongue, raised his hands, and walked away, deciding to pace the room.
Char and Deven laughed at his reaction, but he ignored them as Amon worked on the collar. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before he was finished and called Ty back over.
“Try this on,” he said.
Ty stomped over and snatched it from the crafter’s hand with a grunt.
“I guessed on the sizing, but gauging your neck at a glance, I think it will fit perfectly,” Amon told him.
Ty examine the collar for a second, admiring Amon’s work. Despite all the snips and tucks, the thing looked in perfect condition, as though it had always been Ty’s size.
He wondered if that was a game mechanic in play or Amon was just that good, but he realized it didn’t matter any. It was the results that mattered, and the collar was immaculate.
He slipped the collar around his neck and clasped it. A sudden rush of warmth ran through him as soon as he did, nearly knocking him over.
Ty stumbled and grabbed the edge of the table to stay upright. “Whoa!”
“What’s it do?” Char questioned, standing right on top of him.
The notifications scrolled across his sight.
You have equipped Torque of Luck.
Ty grinned. Vile One had already identified the item, so it appeared in all its splendor.
Torque of Luck! +4 to Luck stat, +2 evasiveness. This is a character’s best luck charm. It helps a player to avoid the negative effects of combat and magic, and helps minimize damage from both, not to mention the benefit on social snafus someone of your charm is likely to run into.
Ty laughed at the description. “No wonder Vile One wanted it so bad. This is his lucky charm, literally.”
“Didn’t seem to do him much good out in the woods,” Amon commented.
“Well, guess luck only works when you don’t have a swarm of spiders jumping on your back,” Ty chuckled.
Still, he could see why Vile One would want his torque back. It was a serious magic item well above anything found in the starter town of Altunn. That told Ty he either had an alt outside the town and was swapping on its account, or Defiler or one of the others did.
Didn’t explain why they were hanging out in Altunn, acting like they owned the place, but it did mean the goons would be better equipped and prepared than Ty would ever be. That meant, if he wanted to survive them, he’d have to be smarter because he’d never be stronger.
The same applied for Halgor.
And that’s when he had an idea.
He knew how he could stop the troll’s horde, or at least slow them down. But it would take some work…and he couldn’t do it alone.
“How long before you adjust my jerkin and get those pants ready?” Ty asked.
Amon took a moment, clearly calculating in his head. “I’ll have them both done by morning, if I work straight through,” he replied. “That will, of course, cost you extra for the rush order.”
Ty stiffened. “Cost me?”
Amon looked up from the work he was doing and nodded, his expression having shifted from jovial to business-like in a heartbeat.
“My wife and child…they were forced to return to our ancestral lands as my work here wasn’t enough to support us all. They left, and I stayed, keeping the shop open despite losses just so I can send them what coin I make so they can get by without suffering and, maybe, one day, I can bring them home…to me.”
Ty swallowed hard. He knew it was simply a game story programmed into Amon, a backstory designed to flesh out the crafter and make him more than a one-dimensional cutout in the game. His wife and child probably didn’t even exist. Still, just hearing the sorrow in Amon’s voice plucked at strings in Ty’s conscience he hadn’t realized existed.
He reached out and set three gold coins on the table, what he knew was way above and beyond the work the crafter was performing for him. “Here’s to your family, my friend,” he mumbled, barely able to get the words out.
He took a moment to regain his voice before turning back to face Char and Deven. “After hearing that, I think I could use a drink. What about you two?”
The pair nodded, and off they went.
“I didn’t know Amon had a family,” Deven muttered after they were outside.
“Neither did I,” Char answered, both of them shaking their heads as they headed toward the Orchid. “We learn something new every day.”
“I wonder what you’re hiding,
” the butcher told her.
Char shrugged. “Me too.”
TY HADN’T REALLY wanted a drink, but he did want to stop by the tavern. Given the time of night, he knew that pretty much every NPC in town would be there, and his idea depended on drafting a few of them to his cause, if he could get them to understand it.
That’d be the hard part.
He circled the Orchid and peered in through the window. Defiler and his thugs had apparently taken the night off, and that suited Ty perfectly. He wasn’t in the mood to catch and ax in the skull again. Ty’d had that pleasure twice already.
Satisfied he wouldn’t earn a third go-round, he went around and entered the tavern and started toward the table nearest the window.
Always good to have a way out.
“Hey!” Eunice, the bartender, called out.
Ty turned about slowly, glancing around to see who she was talking to.
Turned out, it was him.
She stared right at him, one eyebrow raised. “You Ty?” she asked.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Got a message for you,” she told him.
“Okay,” he muttered, no idea who the heck would be sending him a message through the bartender, or why, for that matter.
She took a second to unroll a small scroll, the paper crinkling. “Defiler of Souls! says he’s coming for you,” she said, then looked down at the scroll and started reading verbatim. “You’re dead, boy! Me and my crew are gonna kill you every time we see you, and we’ll be joining the horde to make sure you never complete the final Altunn quest. Watch your back, punk!“ Her monotone voice did nothing to blunt the threat of the message.
Ty groaned. “That’s it?”
She nodded.
“So, uh…yeah, thanks, I guess,” Ty told her, and she went back to tending bar.
“To be fair, did you really expect anything else?” Char asked as they went over to the table.
“No, I guess not,” he admitted. Still, he hadn’t really pictured them interfering with the quest before, so that was a monkey wrench in the gears of his half-formed plans he didn’t need.
He sighed, frustrated, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it then, so he brushed the warning aside. He’d deal with Defiler eventually.
He held the chair out for Char, memories of his mother’s training in manners still embedded in him, then plopped down once she was seated. Ty went to ask what they wanted to drink when Char’s eyes went wide.
Ty gulped and reached for his sword, easing it loose of its sheath, ready to bounce from his chair like a coiled spring, imagining Defiler creeping up behind him, already making good on his threat. But Char clasped his arm and held him in place, moving in close.
“There,” she whispered. “Varus is here.”
Ty pushed his sword back into place and turned about casually in his seat, glancing across the room. There, he saw the wizard whose spell had gotten him into this mess.
If ever there was a person who screamed adventure or quest, he was it.
Dressed in a crimson robe with runes running along the seams, the wizard sat hunkered over in the seat, a long, raggedy white beard spilling from the shadows that obscured his face. Only the barest gleam of his eyes could be seen within the darkness.
Great golden rings encompassed every finger. They gleamed in the lantern-light, one hand clasped about a wooden mug, the other clawing at the red-tarped table. The cloth covering swayed as if a gentle breeze swept through the Orchid.
Heart in his throat, Ty climbed out of his seat and started over. Every footstep was as if he trod through a mire. The wizard held all the answers to his every question Ty had, and here he was, sitting at a table just feet from Ty.
He went over, hesitant, and stood at the edge of the table, clearing his throat. The wizard, eyes glossy as if he were in a trance, started and looked up. Surprised washed over his expression, cheeks flushing. He spilled his drink, and frothy ale ran slowly across the table top.
“Go away, boy,” he barked. “I’m busy.” The wizard shooed him with a wave.
Something bumped into his feet, and the tablecloth peeled back at the side. A pair of large brown eyes stared out from him underneath, an amused smirk spearing above the tightly-woven brown beard of a dwarf.
“I’m trying to make a buck, ya mind?” she asked.
Ty stumbled back a step, staring, a hand over his mouth.
“Pssst!” Char mouthed.
Ty glanced over his shoulder. She sat there with an embarrassed grin on her face, jabbing a finger to the other side of the bar.
Ty followed where she pointed and spotted another bearded man in the opposite corner. He sat slouched at the table, surrounded by empty mugs. Bloodshot eyes peered over their rims at Ty, a sly smirk on his weathered face.
Knot in his throat, Ty muttered an apology to the other guy and his dwarven companion, and quickly went over to Varus. The wizard stared at him, saying nothing.
“Uh…mind if I sit,” Ty asked. “I’ve some questions I’d like to ask you.”
Varus gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Only if you’re buying.”
Twenty
A Dash of Disappoint
AT LONG LAST, Ty sat across from the man who’d brought him into the game.
And it only cost him a gold worth of booze.
Once Varus had gulped down three of the dozen mugs the waitress had laid out across the tabletop, he finally turned his gray-eyed attention to Ty.
“Do I know you?” he slurred.
Ty shook his head, almost too overwhelmed to speak. He had so many questions piling up on his tongue that they threatened to choke him. Finally, he managed to spit the first of them out, clearing the way for the rest.
“Can you send me home?”
Varus grunted, eyes narrowing as his gaze shifted to look above Ty’s head. He then shifted in his seat and cast his eyes around him, settling in on Char and Deven, clearly putting the pieces together. He eased back and met Ty’s gaze again. Sort of.
His eyes wavered so much as to make Ty think they were swimming pools.
“Seems I talk too much when I drink,” Varus said, his voice thready and raw. He’d clearly been at it for a while already.
At first, Ty had been starstruck by the wizard, thinking him some magical savant, the master of his destiny, but the stink of unwashed flesh and stale booze wafted off him in waves, stinging Ty’s nose. Varus might well have been some shifty homeless guy on Chicago’s L Ty ran across regularly, begging for some change to buy a drink or some smokes.
Ty’s awe quickly turned into anger. The life he’d lost, his mom and brother to wonder forever where Ty had gone, what had happened to him, was all because of a single, pathetic drunk.
Just like his father.
“You also give random NPCs spells they shouldn’t be casting,” he fired back.
Varus shrugged and picked up another ale, downing it in just a couple of gulps before thumping the empty mug onto the table.
“I’ve done a lot of stupid shit since I’ve been here, boy,” he said, glancing upward and encouraging Ty to do the same.
It took him a second before Ty realized what he wanted from him. Then his meaning it struck home.
There was no tag above Varus’s head; neither green nor blue.
Ty gasped at the implication and slumped into his seat.
“Wait! You’re…you’re from Earth?”
“Once upon a time,” he muttered, chugging down another ale. “Or how’s it go, a long, long time ago…?”
What tiny thread of guarded optimism Ty still had swirled down the drain right then.
If Varus was still here, stuck in the game just like Ty, then what hope did Ty have that the old guy would know how to send him home?
“I-I…” Ty didn’t know what to say.
Varus took advantage of his struggle to down another ale. When he finished up, he set the mug down, grabbed another for himself, then pushed one across the table to
Ty.
“I find words come easier when you’ve a drink or two in you,” he advised. “Alcohol also helps deaden disappointment.”
“I-is that why you drink?”
Varus let out a phlegmy chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, I just like being drunk.”
Ty lifted the mug and took a sip of the ale. The bitter taste curled his tongue, and he barely managed to swallow it before he spit it out. He wiped his mouth and pushed the mug back to Varus.
Varus grinned and took it, downing it like all the others. “It’s an acquired taste,” he said. “Kind of like this world. You’ll get used to both of them in time.”
“So, that’s it? I’m stuck here?” Ty pressed.
The wizard shrugged. “I don’t know of a way back, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
Ty brightened, clasping at the sliver of hope Varus inadvertently offered. “Wait, so there could be a way back to Earth?”
“Hell if I know, kid. I haven’t exactly been scrambling to get back there.” He raised his arms and gestured to the room. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”
“Is that why you travel the realm, because you’re just taking in the sights, having the vacation of your life?”
“More like I wear out my welcome and need to find new folks to keep me in beer,” he admitted. “Speaking of…” He waved at the waitress, motioning for her to bring the next round Ty had paid for.
“So, you don’t want to go back?”
“Nothing there for me, kid,” he answered, not a hint of regret in his voice. He meant what he said, Ty realized. “I’ve had my fill of that world.”
The waitress swapped empties for fulls, and Varus started right in on the next one.
“What about the spell you created, the summoning spell?” Ty asked. “Can you reverse it somehow? Make it so it sends someone back instead of drawing them into the game. You might not want to go back, but I sure do.”
Varus grunted into his cup. “Sorry, kid, but you’ve got it wrong. I didn’t create the spell, I stole it. Right after I was summoned into the game by it.” He gestured to Char and Deven. “I traded it to your friends over there for some drinks a few months back when I overheard them whining about Halgor and how he was going to overrun their poor little village and raze it to the ground. Figured they could use it more than me, and they’d be willing to pay for it.”