Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Important Notes
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Quest Complete!
Thank You!
About the Author
Where to Find Me
Map of Scorn
ALTERED REALMS:
Book 1 - Ascension
By. B.F. ROCKRIVER
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by B.Rockriver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
For more information email: [email protected]
First ebook edition
Maps by B.F. Rockriver
Dedication
This book is dedicated to everyone who has gone through something terrible and came out as a different person on the other side. Those who are still going through something terrible, I would like to say that everything will be okay, as long as you never give up. This book is for you.
I would like to thank those who have supported me in the past, those who continue to support my crazy ideas, those I love, and those I have lost. For without you, this book would never have been written. To my friends and family, I love you. You are my world.
Dan, we miss you buddy. You will never be forgotten.
Important Notes
First a warning: This story has scenes that might trigger some intense emotional responses. It depicts people struggling with anxiety, depression, grief, and PTSD. While not the main focus of the book, it is heavily influenced by real mental health issues. To some it may go unnoticed, to those who have gone through something terrible, it may be triggering.
As someone who has struggled with mental health issues in the past, I want to do more than just tell stories. I want to bring attention to the everyday struggles of those who struggle with things that, in my opinion, get very little attention. People are not defined by these issues, but these issues are a part of those that struggle. If you or someone you know is struggling and needs help, do not hesitate you reach out. Call a hotline, a friend, or a counselor. Getting help is not weakness, it is strength. You are not alone.
“Just now I was thinking that I'd died and had to come to life again, had to build up a life myself. Only the new edifice has to be built with the ruins of the old. Or rather, I feel like a tree that has been blasted level with the ground, with only the roots still living. Some even of the roots are dead, some I have to kill, the rest have to grow again somehow.”
― Richard Aldington, All Men Are Enemies
Prologue
In a large room, on the top floor of a building that scraped the clouds, a man sat weeping, a damp picture frame in his hands. His unkempt hair, drooping eyelids, and coffee-stained teeth had become his new look, one that he had worn for weeks. From the corner of the room, a woman looked on at the man, with panic in her eyes. She mumbled, and he ignored her. Now was not the time for questions.
The man's head and arms sprawled atop the surface of his once pristine workspace as a holographic display appeared before him. The Italian leather strap on his one-of-a-kind wristwatch hung loosely from his thinning wrist. With a sigh, he lifted a finger to wipe away the annoyance, as his mind tried to wrap itself around his current set of disasters. How did this happen?
Notifications flickered on the holo-projection of his computer interface. They acted as distractions from the repetitive grumbling and heavy breathing of his unwelcome visitor. How long has she been there? He thought to himself as bright red lettering flashed to life, drawing his eyes upward, back to his work, back to his nightmare.
“Access denied. Universal administrator privileges have been revoked.” A monotone voice accompanied a chime of bells that echoed in the room. The death knells rolled in with each repetitive notification, causing him to blink along with the appearance of each new window.
“Sir,'' a timid voice called out, snapping him back to reality. “Sir, what are we going to do? We no longer have remote access to the system.” The voice came again, almost forcing him to lift his head completely. “Should we call someone from IT?”
“Fuck it,” The man said, wiping his face clean.
Placing the picture face down on his desk, his fingertips lingered on its edges, lifting his head just enough to steal a brief glimpse of Sarah, the Vice President of Operations at his company.
“I am the best fucking technician we have. The system has locked down all outside attempts to take control, and the only person who has override authority is fucking gone.” He let out a long sigh, heavy with days of unrest, “We’re fucked.” He said with a whispered chuckle. “They are all gone.”
The thump of his fist hitting his desk caused his longtime co-worker to drop her coffee. He stood, staring at the steaming liquid on his polished granite floors, and closed his eyes.
“I’m-I’m sorry, sir,” She stammered, kneeling to clean up her mess.
After taking several deep breaths, he stared through the uncomfortable looking girl before him. Her hands were shaking, and her bottom lip quivered as she mumbled to herself. Her hair was a mess, and she had been wearing the same clothes for days.
Without an ounce of hesitation, he spoke, “Someone has to sort this shit out, might as well be me.” He locked eyes with the tall blond woman, “Sarah, you're in charge until I get back.”
Sarah straightened her back, stood, and rubbed her eyes as she spoke, “Sir, are you sure this is wise? We no longer have control of the system." Her voice grew firm as she crossed her arms, "Going in there now could be dangerous.” Noticing that the man was no longer looking in her direction, she let her hands fall away and sighed with resignation, “What happens if you can’t reach him. What happens if you can't log out? What am I-" Sarah corrected herself, “Are we going to do without you? You’re all we have left.”
“Don't worry about me. Just don’t say a word about what’s going on, to anyone. Do not speak a word about Entarra online, the system, or what happened.” The man's eyes went cold, the once jovial lights behind them having dimmed months ago, “Sara, there are already over a million people in the situation you just described. But, they don’t know anything is wrong. To them, this is all just some bug in the game. They are
in danger, and many are already completely unable to leave. They are stuck in my, our fucking game. If I don’t go in there, roughly three million others could join them.”
“But, sir-” Sarah started.
He cut her off with a wave of his hand as he rose to his feet, “If something happens to me, or if you don’t hear from me in two weeks, then it's time to call the United World Government. Recall all pods by force if necessary, and divert all funds to long term care. Liquidate every fucking asset we have, if you have to. Just protect as many people as possible, for as long as you can. Then do everything you can to disconnect the system. Shutting it down, at this point, is impossible.” He paused and scratched at a newly grown beard, flakes of dried skin falling to his well-tailored suit, “In fact, start making preparations for that very situation right now. If it's even possible, don’t hesitate to shut the whole thing down, even if we are still inside.” The man paused before looking up, staring through a reinforced glass ceiling out into the late afternoon sky, “Then pray, pray to whatever gods you think might listen, that it doesn’t come to that.” he said, a finality to his voice before leaving the room.
Chapter 1
A chill western breeze flowed through Dawnmoon Bay, towards the far off Wildwood, carrying the stale scent of death with it. The city of Dawnport, its patchwork tapestry of wood and stone buildings, sat perched on a low cliff above frigid waters. Saltwater slapped against rotting wooden pylons, filling the streets with its corrosive mist, as breathless whispers dissipated into the wind.
“The Wildwoods, a hunter. His name is Eli.” One man said to another, as a pool of crimson liquid gathered at the base of an anvil bathed in cool green light.
Miles from the city tucked away in a small cabin; a man tossed in his sheets. His eyes were still closed as he took in the low chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves from the surrounding trees. Today is another day, he thought as the sounds of a crackling cook-fire danced through his kitchen and into his ears. A faint snap accompanied the crack of fresh-cut vegetables followed shortly by a sweet jaunty tune, humming in the background. His wife, Kata, was sounding out a simple Wode Elf folk song about adventure. Fried eggs with rye porridge and roasted vegetables again, he thought, as a smile crept across his face.
Eli’s life fit him like an old suit, always the same, always dependable. He needed nothing fancy; he wanted nothing extraordinary. The monotony and repetition made things safe, manageable. He had lived in the city, and it didn’t suit him or his wife. There were far too many people and far too many problems. He would wake up, chop wood, check the snares, help tend the field, chop more wood, and teach his children their numbers and letters. But today was different; he felt it in his bones. A stiff breeze fluttered against the shutters, causing him to shiver. Top notes of pork fat, blended with middle notes of sweetness and bottom notes of smoke, filled the room. Hints of rot and decay caused him to stir, tainting the otherwise welcome smells.
The twins, Eric and Savannah, were old enough to help with the chores, but young enough to still find the world amazing. They seemed to view things in ways only children can. An ever-present sparkle of imagination poured into the most mundane occurrences. He admired his children’s juvenile ability to play with a pair of sticks for hours, pretending to be knights, adventurers, or summoners. That wondrous ability to find happiness in simple things had not yet faded, and the thought of their smiles filled him with hope. The struggles of reality had not yet stolen that away. They hadn’t seen the darkness of this world yet, the death and endless suffering. They hadn’t seen just how cruel immortal beings from another world could be. Eli had taken them far enough into the Wildwoods for that exact reason. The darkness of humanity hadn’t reached this far, and he hoped it never would. But he knew that his peace could not last forever.
The proximity to the Temple of Aeryntorr, a derelict temple that once housed a sect of druids, kept most intelligent creatures away. It had been long forgotten to history, but Eli knew all too well where it was. He found it while hunting and told no one its location. The damned ruins were home to abominations, warped by unimaginable powers. No one had been there in years, other than the few people who made their forest home.
Wayland, the local blacksmith, spoke about seeing unsavory looking adventurers lurking around Dawnport. According to the smith, he saw a small group enter the forest a few days prior to his meeting with Eli. The group asked questions about a stronghold, what types of creatures lived in the Wildwood, and where they may find a guide to lead them to the lost temple. When they had left the city, they went through the western gate towards the temple grounds and Eli’s cabin.
Eli made preparations the day he got home. He kept his bow and belt knife near him at all times. The twins trained on what to do if strangers arrived. Specific whistles and phrases became a part of their daily curriculum, in case of an attack. If his friend said that these adventurers were not to be trusted, then he would listen, and he would be ready if they showed up.
Wayland was an old friend, having moved to Dawnport at the height of the Three Factions War, the same time Eli and his wife had. He and Eli had booked the same boat to Scorn, both having left from Sardona, on the western coast of Ommuria. When Kata gave birth to the twins, it was Wayland and Eli’s old war buddy, Derek, that would bring them food, water, and other necessities. The middle-aged blacksmith had helped Eli with his tools, equipment, and repairs for years. Eli knew that his friend was an excellent judge of character, and Adventurers didn’t care for the citizens of this world. They didn’t care much about anything. So Eli prepared every morning. He checked his bow, axe, knife, and their alarms regularly.
Adventurers came to Entarra from another plane of existence, coming and going between the two as they pleased. Some came in search of power, glory, or wealth. Others came to live out their twisted fantasies and wildest dreams. A few, the Outlanders, came to escape their existence in their home-world. Some were cripples or outcasts. Others were ill or in a coma. Many accepted Entarra as their new home, never leaving, or “logging off,” as they called it. One thing was universal with the adventurers; they were unpredictable and often violent.
“Eli.” Came a whisper in the background, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Eli, I know you’re awake. I can hear your gears turning from over here.” a sweet, mouse-like voice squeaked from across the room. It was Kata. “It’s almost time to wake the children, breakfast’s about ready, and I don’t want to burn the veggies.”
“Just another minute,” he said as he pulled the heavy wool blanket over his face.
“Eli Miller. If those kids aren’t awake while breakfast is warm, the peccary won’t be the only hide getting tanned,” Kata growled in a half-whisper.
“And, that’s my cue,” Eli whispered, thinking she hadn’t heard him. The smirk on her face and malice in her bright hazel eyes said otherwise.
Eli clothed himself in a hurry and stole a glance at Kata’s lovely form. Her unkempt, fiery red hair framed her sharp facial features as she toiled over the cooking fire. The tips of her pointed ears poked between thick clumps of hair. A few strays stuck to perspiration above her thin pink lips, but she hadn’t noticed. The vivid crimson color provided a nice contrast to her fair olive skin. A quick scowl and a nod of her head towards the children’s room gave Eli the motivation needed to start the day. She caught him staring again. He couldn’t help it; she was captivating. Her athletic figure, gentle yet fierce eyes, and smooth womanly curves pulled him to her like gravity. She was not frail or weak, and she knew more about survival than anyone he had ever met. That’s why he loved her. Because she was capable. Her beauty was just a bonus. Without her, he would have died years ago.
A set of hunting clothes were hanging near the cooking fire. Kata must have cleaned yesterday’s boar mess off of them and hung them to dry before making breakfast. Yesterday’s snare check provided a fine catch. A wild boar had stumbled into one of the traps that Eli tended each day. I must
have forgotten to clean my clothes after butchering the pig, he thought.
“She’s too good for me,” Eli whispered to himself, as he threaded his toes into house shoes and strode towards the back room.
The twins were still sleeping, their breathing deep. How this was possible with the sweetness of fresh pork and the roar of a cooking fire in the air, Eli couldn’t understand. Even as a child, he could smell pork belly from a mile away.
“Savannah, Eric. It’s time to wake up,” he whispered while rustling strong fingers through Eric’s mahogany hair. “Your mother is cooking breakfast.”
In unison, the two children repeated after their father, “Just another minute,” and rolled over.
But, as they tossed in their beds, Savannah’s sharply pointed nose twitched. “Wait! Is that bacon?” she exclaimed as she flung her sheets back, and leapt to her feet, knocking her brother off of the bed.
A loud THUMP echoed through the room as Eric’s forehead smashed into the sturdy floorboards. “Ouch, what the hell, Sav? I was still sleeping,” Eric screamed, now laying on the floor with a look of pain and confusion on his face.
Savannah shrugged at her brother with a grin, as she slipped her pants and a tunic over her pajamas, before running from the room.
“It’s just some belly from yesterday’s hog. The rest is curing and won’t be ready for a week,” Eli called after her as she ran into the kitchen. “And, apologize to your brother.”
While helping Eric to his feet, Eli inspected the growing lump on his son’s forehead. “I think you’re going to grow a horn,” he said with a smile, “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up looking like an Orc.”
The glare in Eric’s bright green eyes burned with anger. “That’s not funny,” he said, pushing the words through clenched teeth.
Eric was a calm and peaceful child, and this anger was something new. His demeanor was more akin to someone raised in comfort than a homestead in the Wildwood. Spotless, well kept, sleeping clothes covered his lanky stretching frame. He was tall for his age with sharp features, thin lips, and well-manicured, rust-colored hair, a perfect blend of mother and father. The twins both had a mixture of human and elf, but Eric seemed to take a touch more from Eli’s human side of the family. Savannah, however, was shorter than her brother and more well built. They shared the same facial features, hair color, and sparkling emerald eyes, but her ears came to a more defined point, and her skin was a shade darker. She was her mother’s daughter to the core, strong, brave, loyal, and competent. Her ability to track, rear animals and hunt paralleled her father’s. If it were not for her age and size, Eli was sure she could take him in a fight. It was this well-known fact that kept her brother’s anger towards her in check.
Ascension Page 1