by Pdmac
“Yes, you do,” Sigurt agreed, regarding Karl with a favorable nod. “I see you have a new member.”
“This is Karl,” Raquel said. “He just arrived today.”
“Glad to have you here in Marbeck, Viking Karl.” Sigurt yawned and rubbed his eyes then turned his attention to the silent giant. “We’re done here, Maurice. You can show them the way out.”
“I know the way,” Raquel said, leaving Maurice and Sigurt to close shop.
Halfway down the hall, Karl chuckled. “The giant’s name is Maurice?”
“Yes,” Annabeth grinned. “He’s a butcher. Has a vendor spot in butcher’s row. He’s honest as the day is long. He’s also one mean-ass drunk when he’s had too much, so I’d watch myself if ever you happen to be in the same tavern when he’s out on the town.”
“Speaking of mean-ass drunk,” Conrad piped up. “I could use a drink myself.”
“Patience, Grasshopper,” Annabeth intoned. “We need to divide tonight’s spoils first.”
“Where do we do that?” Karl asked.
“Back in my bedroom at the tavern,” Raquel answered. “We pool our take and divide it fair and square. We all put in what we got tonight.” She shot a stare at Conrad.
“Why you looking at me?” he complained.
“No reason,” she blandly replied.
Despite his best efforts to keep track of their path, Karl gave up after a while and simply followed where he was led. They emerged into an empty room with a single door opposite them. Opening the door, Raquel led them outside where the mist was beginning to claim the night.
“Follow me,” she commanded then expertly led them through the streets and alleys of Marbeck.
Five minutes later, they stood outside the door of the Widow’s Pantry.
“That reminds me,” Karl said. “I still need a place to stay.”
“I’m sure she still has rooms available,” Raquel said. “Most of the players stay here.”
Karl frowned as he sized up the outside.
Raquel saw his doubt. “The tavern goes back a ways and besides, the rooms aren’t all that big.”
“The price is good though,” Annabeth added. “She’ll give you a deal for long term lodging.”
“I don’t know how long we’ll be staying,” Karl mused. “Perhaps I’ll do week to week.”
“How long before we… uh…” Conrad said, his apprehension obvious.
“Move on?” Annabeth finished for him. “That’s a good question. Captain Viking?” she flashed Karl a sweet smile.
“Not until we’ve all leveled up as high as we can,” he explained. “We need to be in the best form we can be before we move on.”
Conrad relaxed and pointed to the door. “Ale?”
Raquel’s room was on the third floor. Like she said, it was small with a single bed, a wash stand with pitcher and basin, and a small chest of drawers.
It didn’t take long to divide the spoils. Karl was pleased to have the extra cash and immediately went downstairs to pay for a room, which ended up on the fourth floor. Debating whether to get some sleep or share an ale with the team, he opted for the ale and descended the three sets of stairs and entered the main room of the tavern, finding the others at the table. Wendell saw him and waved him over.
Karl caught the eye of a pretty brunette serving girl. Miming tapping ale into a mug, he pointed to himself then the table, receiving a nod and a smile of understanding. As the girl sauntered away, he slid a chair out and plopped down.
“So where’s she put you?” Annabeth asked.
“In the nose bleed section in the back.”
“What room number?”
“444.”
“Easy to remember.”
The serving girl approached, her hips swaying seductively. Placing the ale on the table, she winked at him.”
“Here you are, sir.” She locked her gaze on him and demurely smiled.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling back at her, tipping an extra copper coin.
She bent over at the hips to scoop up the coins, letting the low cut peasant blouse pull away from her chest, giving him a lingering view of her firm breasts. She laughed when she caught Conrad leaning far over to catch a glimpse.
With another wink at Karl, she twirled around and sauntered away.
“She wants you,” Conrad said with obvious frustration. “Why can’t I find someone like that?”
“Aren’t there other dwarf women available?” Karl asked.
“It ain’t the same,” Conrad moaned. “I like ‘em tall and curvy in all the right places.”
Karl was about to ask why he decided to be a dwarf when a tall elf approached, giving Karl a haughty stare.
“You think you’re something, now that you’re hanging around with these clowns.”
Conversations stopped and the room grew oppressively quiet as the others watched the exchange.
“You think you’re hot stuff because you went out on a patrol and now come here to brag about your prowess, you Level 1 Viking. You know what I think? I think you’re nothing more than an overgrown coward.”
There was an overt sucking in of breaths as those in the room waited to see Karl’s response.
Karl looked up at the elf then turned his head to both sides as if looking to see if there was someone behind him, before staring intently at the elf. “Oh wow, you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a shit what you think.” He picked up his mug and took a slow sip.
The elf stiffened and has face hardened, especially when he heard the laughter behind him.
“Back off Simon,” Raquel warned. “He killed a gnoll by himself in two blows tonight. Can you make the same claim?”
“I’ve killed some gnolls,” he defiantly replied.
“What?” Raquel sniffed in disdain. “Two maybe, total in your whole time here and that was with a group helping you, and one of your team was killed in the process.” She leaned back to give the room a passing glance. “Everyone knows that. Isn’t that right, Alex?”
Another elf, nursing an ale while brooding in the corner, looked up at the mention of his name. “Yeah. That is right. What of it?”
Raquel turned back to Simon. “Why don’t you tell us why Alex no longer wants to go out on patrols with you instead of coming over here and acting like something special?”
Simon curled a lip and snarled, “I’d watch your back if I were you.”
“That’s what I’d expect coming from you,” she shot back. “You’re the kind that would shoot someone in the back. You hear that everybody,” she called out. “Simon here has no qualms about taking out another player, and he’s not afraid to hide and shoot you in the back.”
“You shut up, you damned slut,” he threatened, bowing up like he was getting ready to strike.
“Back off, elf-boy,” Karl growled, looking up at him with cold steel eyes.
“Or what?” Simon challenged. He grimaced when he heard Wendell start laughing. “What’s so damned funny?”
“You,” Wendell replied shaking his head. “You know nothing about the man and you’re all over here like you’re some sort of warrior god. What are you in real life again? Oh, that’s right, you’re a toll collector on some interstate in Missouri. You ever hear of the Tiwanaku War?”
“Yeah?”
Wendell jerked a thumb at Karl. “Meet one of the Widow-makers.”
A strained hush settled on the room as Simon’s arrogance vanished and he swallowed hard. “Really?”
“Why should it matter?” Karl replied, his hard gaze remaining. “We’re all in this game together. We can either work together or go our separate ways. If you want adulation, I suggest you do something to earn it. Now if you don’t mind, our team here would like to enjoy an ale together. I’d say it was a rough night, but quite honestly, killing three gnolls happened so fast, we didn’t even break a sweat.” He took another sip and tuned his attention to Raquel.
The noise in the room returned to the normal cacoph
ony leaving Simon awkwardly standing next to Karl’s table. Hoping no one noticed anymore, he quietly slunk away to his room.
“What was that all about?” Karl asked.
“That’s Simon,” Annabeth answered. “He wants to be the leader, so he was here trying to assert his dominance. While some willingly follow him, those like us here, ignore him and hope he’ll go away.”
“I expect we’ll be doing that first,” Conrad said.
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Wendell asked.
Karl looked at Raquel. “We have maybe one more opportunity with the patrol in the same place tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
“Then we hit them again tomorrow night, and as often as we can these next two weeks. We’ll need experience working as a team.” He saw Raquel raise an eyebrow. “You four already are a team,” he explained. “I’m new, remember? And any other we accept will have to train to be part of a team that thinks like one.”
“Tomorrow then,” Annabeth announced, holding up her mug.
“Tomorrow,” the others replied, clinking their mugs.
Back in his room, Karl arranged his weapons close to the bed and was unbuttoning his shirt when a knock on the door interrupted him. Frowning, he ambled over and opened the door to reveal the serving girl who had given him so much attention. In one hand, she held a cutting board with a loaf of bread and a small block of cheese. In the other was a cold bottle of ale.
“I noticed you hadn’t eaten much today,” she said with a shy smile. “I thought you might like something before you go to bed.”
Karl was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Yet here was this gorgeous woman apparently wanting to join him in bed. Part of him said, ‘What’s wrong with you? Open the stinkin’ door and let her in.’ Another part said to be careful. It was the ‘be careful’ part that won. Besides, it wasn’t like it would never happen again.
“What’s your name?”
“Kylie.”
“Kylie. That’s a pretty name.” He fought back a yawn. “You’re very kind and thoughtful, but I think tonight I’d just like to get some sleep.” He gave her his best winning smile, wanting to let her down without ruining further chances.
“Are you sure?” she said, deflated.
“Yes, I’m sure. May I take a raincheck on that?”
Her mood flipped and she dipped her head. “Of course. Another night then.”
“Thank you.”
Closing and barring the door, Karl fell into a deep and restful slumber.
During the next week, Karl and the team went out every evening and eliminated the gnoll patrol. They also added two new members, a druid and a cleric, both recent additions to the game. The druid was a pretty woman named Lana, with strawberry blond hair, emerald green eyes and a captivating smile. The cleric was a quiet reflective man named Brad who immersed himself into his character in true Stanislavski method. Yet his wit was dry and quick and he was not averse to telling the occasional bawdy joke.
By the end of the second week, word had leaked and the group found themselves inundated with requests to join.
“What are we gonna do?” Wendell moaned, seated across the table from Karl who had just thanked a woman elf huntress for her interest. “Everyone wants to join.”
“Almost everyone,” Conrad countered, ticking his head in Simon’s direction, watching him trying to sway players to his leadership.
“Here is what we’ll do,” Karl answered looking at each of them in turn. “We take anyone who wants to go with us.”
“That’ll be a nightmare,” Conrad complained. “Too many of them are still Level 1’s and 2’s.”
“Let him finish,” Brad said, but not unkindly.
“Thank you, Father Brad,” Karl said with a grin and a gentle tease. He had come to like the quiet man. “The seven of us are the core team. If we find someone who is a genuine fit, great… otherwise, we proceed on the foundation that we are the core. We continue our training and operations as always, taking along those who can cope. But, we do not make accommodations for those who cannot keep up. As the cliché goes, we’re only as good as our weakest link.”
He was interrupted by a dwarf who wanted to join. After politely listening, he sent the dwarf away with the belief he was joining the group.
“Like I was saying,” Karl continued. “We here are all Level 3’s. The way I see it, there’s little likelihood of us increasing our levels the longer we stay here. It’s time to move on.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Conrad sighed.
Ignoring him, Karl said, “We move out in one week. That will give us time for gather supplies and send out long range recon patrols. Each of us needs to make sure we have all the potions, elixirs, and whatever that we can afford and carry. Same holds true for weapons. Questions?”
“Yeah,” Wendell said. “Where we going?”
“Pull up your maps, everyone,” Karl commanded then opened his personal screen, pressing the map icon and using his thumb and finger to stretch it wider. “We’re here at Marbeck, at the northern point of the island. We want to head down and around to the bridge at the point. How far that is, is anyone’s guess as there are no keys providing distance. However, note the terrain. The shortest distance to the bridge takes us over mountains. Therefore, we’ll work the coastal roads and plains to get to the bridge.”
“We still have to do a quest,” Lana reminded him.
“I know. If any of you have a clue as to what it is, sing out.”
“So what do we do with all the tagalongs?” Conrad asked.
“We shed them along the way,” Karl answered. “I know it sounds harsh, but there it is. We still have to make it past the forest surrounding Marbeck, and the gnolls, and the mist. My guess is that we’ll lose half of them before we make it past the forest.”
“Don’t remind them of their bind spot,” Brad suggested. “If they are killed, they’ll likely come back here, too far away for them to catch up.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Karl complimented. “I’ll have a route mapped out by tonight and will show it to you in the morning.”
There was a sudden burst of excitement at a table close to the door and they turned to watch as a paladin’s body began to glow then sizzle like a steak on a grill and then disappear with an audible pop.
“My God,” a voice cried out in shock. “He’s gone.”
Voices rose, overlapping in questions and wonder. What Karl could figure out, sifting through all the noise, was that the paladin’s name was Drew, that he had suffered from an autoimmune disease, and that he had been in the game for over a year. The consensus was that a cure had been found for Drew and he had gone home.
Once the version of Drew’s disappearance as a result of a cure was accepted, the interest in leaving Marbeck waned. Folks didn’t want to jeopardize the developers not finding them. That eliminated ten hopefuls from joining Karl’s group. Yet another ten remained, ignoring Simon’s protestations, leaving him with four or five loyal followers, all elves.
“What the hell did you do?” Marc demanded, storming into the cubicle on the Designers’ Floor of ITL. He glared down at the young man who had pulled off the headphones when he felt a presence looming behind him.
“I pulled a player out of the game,” Jackson retorted, curling a lip at the pompous bastard whose sucking up to those above him was so obvious that everyone called him ‘trailer hitch lips.’
“But he doesn’t have a cure yet. Who gave you authority to do that?” Marc folded his arms and stared imperiously at him.
“None of your damn business who gave me authority,” Jackson tartly replied. “Why don’t you go back to your cubicle where you belong and leave the gaming operation to those who actually know what they’re doing.”
Marc bristled and his jaw clenched. Spinning around, he marched off, returning moments later with their direct supervisor, an attractive languorous woman in her early 30’s.
Jabbing
an accusing finger at Jackson, he exclaimed, “He pulled a player out of the game.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied, frowning at him. “I told him to do that.”
“You did?” he blurted. “But why? Now all the players are going to think that they found a cure for him.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“But… but… if they all think he’s been cured, they’re never going to leave Marbeck.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it,” she answered. “But the bigger issue here is that Drew was beginning to infect the other players with his whining and his constant harping that he wanted to be in another game. I’m sure you noticed that, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well… uh, yeah, I did, but I thought that he’d get over it and move on.”
“How long would you have left him there?” she challenged.
“I… uh…”
“Exactly my point,” she drawled. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that with Drew’s vanishing, the folks flocking to Karl’s banner have suddenly found excuses for not going with him.”
“But what about Drew?” Marc awkwardly asked. “There isn’t a cure for him.”
Barely suppressing a grin, Lisa narrowed her focus on him. “Trust me. He’ll be fine.”
Marc’s mouth gaped open. “But he’s going to die as soon as he’s placed back in his body.”
Lisa gave him a maternal glance. “Why don’t you let us worry about that and go on about your own work.” Turning her attention to Marc, she said, “Keep me apprised of your progress.”
“Yes, Mam,” he replied with a triumphant smile. “Oh, one more thing, Lisa. Karl finds the popups irritating. We’re treating this game like all others, that players obsess over individual points and track leveling progress on a frequent basis. Karl still hasn’t checked his stats. What’s the down side of eliminating his popups? It’s not like he ever checks them. Besides, it would make the game even more realistic without the constant reminder that it is a game. ”
She knitted her brow and slowly nodded. “Give me a paper on it with the pros and cons and your recommendations.”