“What about the women, though? Why do they play Conquest? In real life, women were all about relationships and emotional connections—”
“Gay.”
“—and stuff like that.” Then I remembered, “But Elise said it’s different now, not having to worry about being labeled a slut, or worry about diseases and everything.”
“Here, being a slut is an asset. But who’s Elise?”
I gave a little sigh. “She was my guide. . . .”
Something in my voice made Bob turn to look at me a moment, his eyes narrowed.
“You want to bang her, don’t you?”
“I want that so bad. She’s a Level Eleven, though.”
“Eleven?” His eyes widened.
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“My guide was only a Ten. . . . I guess I shouldn’t say only.”
“Well, you do have lower standards than me. They probably could have sent you a Five.”
“Can’t disagree with you, Karl. So what’s the plan?”
“I need a new shield or something.” I stopped in front of a trough of water to check out my new body. “It’s good, but not so good that I’d mind covering it with some armor.”
We found a shop where I bought a light breastplate, just enough to offer some protection without slowing me down, and a cool helmet. I traded the level-one mace and level-two axe for a hefty level-three morningstar, spikes jutting from the head with needle-sharp menace.
Bob looked at my new weapon with envy and said, “That’s badass. Too bad I can’t use weapons.”
“You should’ve chosen warrior class, then. They get laid easier, too, it seems.”
“Yeah, but I just wanted to escape real life, you know?”
“Everyone here has escaped real life. Permanently.”
I pondered that thought a moment, and I wondered if the Digital Afterworld programmers had designed Verterria to have more realistic limitations because they realized we’d someday tire of living in a fantasy world. I stole a glance at Bob and thought, Well, maybe not all of us.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
“Hey look, it’s a magic shop. I wonder what they sell.”
In ten minutes we came out with Bob waving around a little wand, which looked like nothing more than a small, knotty twig, and a level-three robe of light gray draped over his small frame, the hood peaked at the back of his head.
“Now I feel like a Level Three.”
“Hey, are you growing a beard?” I just noticed the inch or so of wispy brown hair sprouting from his chin.
“Of course. I’m a wizard. Well, technically I’m a Journeyman. I won’t be a true wizard until Level Nine. But beards are part of our thing, you know? A wizard without a beard is like a plumber without a buttcrack.”
“I guess that’s true, now that I think about it. I haven’t seen many wizards without beards.” Of course in real life, I hadn’t seen any wizards at all, since there was no such thing. “Okay, we’ve got new gear, what’s next?”
“That’s easy: eat, sleep, and then we spend the next day boinking anything that moves.”
* * *
We did exactly that. With our Health and Stamina maxed out from food and rest, we cruised the town for girls. Before it was even noon, I managed to bring a level-four witch up to my room.
I couldn’t believe the difference from the Ones and Twos as she pulled off her dark green robe. She was definitely better than what I would’ve called a “four” in real life—not that I ranked girls like that; anyway I would not have classed myself higher than “five” so I had been in no position to judge.
She threw aside her robe and posed alluringly in front of me as she commanded, “Reveal thy body, fighter, and come to me.”
I pulled down my breeches, impressed by her dedication to staying in character, until she saw what I had to offer and her seductive smile turned to a frown.
“What the hell, dude?” She struggled to get back into character. “Thou offer me such meager flesh, fool?”
“Well, it’s, uh—”
“Away with you!”
“What? Seriously?”
She broke character to say, “Just bang a couple Threes until you can level that little thing up to Four.”
“You know what—” I stopped myself and cleared my throat and looked at her boldly. “When next we meet I shall not be a mere Four. You shall find yourself straddling the girth of a Five.”
I swept out of the room before she could say a word.
* * *
I took her advice and got myself a few Threes. It seems amazing to say that in such a flippant way, especially since my character wasn’t even as attractive as I had been in life. True, I was no longer scrawny, but although my muscles in the game were now bigger they had little definition. And my hair was definitely worse than my real hair. And my dick was smaller, even after I bumped it up to a Level Four—but I was working to change that.
Bob got himself a couple Threes too. And a few Twos. I’m sure if there had been any Ones, he would have been happy to oblige.
After all the action, and earning a bunch of EP and gold by killing a player who’d been staying at inns and eating at taverns and not paying, by the time the day ended Bob and I were both Fours. I had my morningstar polished, and Bob bought a new scroll for a spell.
Which was good, because the city of Knarlsbro had nothing in common with Noob Town except for one thing: the monsters came out after dark.
Chapter Twelve
WE crouched in the shadows between two shops, watching the creature that sat in the middle of the road. It looked like a small person, with long black hair and morbidly thin arms sticking out of a tattered robe, except for the pointy ears and pointy teeth and a nose like a bat’s snout. I watched it use those evil-looking teeth in a frenzy to strip the meat off a bone, the bone of a warrior. I knew the joint of human flesh had belonged to a warrior because I saw the weapon lying next to the pile of discarded bones: a morningstar just like mine.
I wished I’d seen the warrior’s demise, to know better how to attack the thing. I did not want to end up a pile of bones like that guy.
I jumped when Bob whispered, “I’m a Spellcaster, now. Cool, huh?”
“Shh! Look how big those ears are! It’ll—”
Too late. The thing’s head snapped toward us, its creepy animal eyes staring right at me. Then it went for us, scurrying across the dirt on all fours, teeth bared and glinting in the moonlight.
Bob jumped up and waved his wand.
“Slow, thee!” he commanded, and in an instant it looked like someone hit the slow-motion button; the creature’s startling speed was cut by half. “Quick, before the spell wears off!”
I ran toward it, despite every instinct to run the other way, and brought my weapon down like I was driving a nail. The spikes sank into the thing’s head with a sickening crunch. I had to look away as I pried the head of the morningstar from that of the creature.
Bob and I made our way cautiously down the now-empty road.
“Sorry about that,” murmured Bob.
“It’s cool. You made up for it soon enough.”
“Yeah, that new Spell of Slowness is rad.”
We passed a narrow lane and I heard the sound of something scraping over the dirt. I turned to see a figure clawing at the ground by its fingertips to drag itself down the lane. It moved slow, but it was creepy as hell. It pulled its limp legs along behind as if only the arms could move, and the eyes were as blank as the dead’s.
We watched it a moment with distaste, and then I went over and pounded it on the head. It kept moving.
“Shit!”
A bony hand clutched my boots, the other made for my leg, and I screamed like a girl and kicked the thing off me.
“How do you kill this thing?”
“You cannot,” said a hushed, female voice.
I jerked around to see a dark-robed figure, and for a second I tho
ught it was another monster until I realized it was the witch who had sent me packing. She now wore a deep wine-colored robe.
“What do you mean ‘you cannot’?”
“Just as I said. I have been in this town some nights, and it is spoken here thus. They damage little, but I suggest you do not fall asleep in these streets at night.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Be thou a Level Five yet?” From her new robe, I suspected she was now a Five. She looked even better than the last time I saw her.
“Not yet. But soon. Very soon.”
“I shall await thee with anticipation.” She jumped over the crawling thing and made her way down the lane.
I stared at her until she was gone, then turned to Bob.
“Am I mistaken, or did that translate into ‘I’m looking forward to fucking you.’?”
“That’s how I make it out, you lucky stud.”
“I’ve never been called that in real li—aaghhh!”
I’d forgotten about the crawling thing and its fingers were squeezing my thigh. I broke free and ran a good twenty feet away.
Bob leisurely caught up to me. “Is this a well?”
I turned to see I had run up to a stone structure.
“I don’t know what else it would be.”
“I wonder if there’s water in here. I’m thirsty.” He leaned down to look into the well.
I caught a glimpse of a white hand on his shoulder, heard his scream echo into the depths of the well, and saw his feet leave the ground as he was yanked down.
I just managed to grab his ankle before his game ended at the bottom of a dark well. It took all my strength to pry him away from whatever had grabbed him.
“Oh shit. . . .” Bob panted with terror and he rubbed his chest with a shaking hand. “Something grabbed me!”
“I noticed. We have to be careful here. I hope all the screaming we’ve done hasn’t attracted any—” My mouth hung open and my eyes darted around the dark street. “Any . . .”
We were surrounded.
Surrounded by monsters that were very short, very stocky, and bent forward like hunchbacks. What they lacked in height and posture they made up for in menace. They had lizard-like faces and hands with long sharp claws on each finger. Like, six inches long. I counted seven of the things without turning my head.
The next minute or so existed in my head only as a blur of swinging morningstar spikes, green flashes of Bob’s magic, and a nightmare of claws and blood.
Fortunately, I realized as we lay exhausted in the street after it was all over, most of the blood belonged to them. My breeches and tunic were shredded. Scratch marks scoured the steel of my breastplate. My helmet sat upside-down in the dirt. Two of my weapon’s spikes were broken. I looked over at Bob.
“You all right?”
Bob looked himself over as if asking himself the same thing. His new robe looked like it had been dragged over a bed of nails.
“I think so. But damn it, I just bought this robe yesterday! I’m never gonna get laid wearing this thing.”
“Well, what kind of EP did we get?”
Bob checked his palm and said, “Oh, shit.”
I looked at mine.
Experience: 2648
Attraction: 1600
Stamina: 13
Health: 18
Gold: 129
Magic: 0
My Health and Stamina were dangerously low, but I had gained enough in Experience from the melee to move up the last three categories to Fives. Which would bring me to a Level Five.
Bob and I urgently needed to rest, and hopefully find some bandages for sale. I looked gratefully at the horizon as I saw the dawn begin to lighten up the east.
“Let’s go nurse our wounds. After that I can level up to Five. And you know what that means.”
Bob thought a second. “Actually, I don’t.”
I remembered I’d been too embarrassed to tell him about being rejected for my little Level Threer.”
“What that means, Bob, is that I’ll be ready to go on a witch hunt.”
Chapter Thirteen
LEVEL 5!
The letters got bigger each time. More digital fireworks. I looked in the mirror as I grew, both in muscle and manhood. At last it was bigger than the formerly real me.
I stared at it in wonder. Bob stared at it, too.
“Nice package, man. No homo.”
“Thanks. My hair’s a lot better, too.” I pulled up a new pair of breeches to replace the ones that had been ripped to ribbons by a multitude of claws. My arms were scratched to hell, but it looked pretty badass.
Bob had tried to get a refund on his ruined robe by claiming it had a manufacturing defect, but the shopkeeper hadn’t fallen for it; the guy even knew which monsters had clawed it to pieces. With a sigh, Bob put on his old brown robe.
I said, “It’s not like it really matters, though. The new robe didn’t give you any extra powers, did it?”
“It’s not about power, Karl. It’s about being a Level Three. I can’t be seen wearing level-two brown. No wizard will take me seriously.”
“But you’re not a Level Three anymore. You’re a Four. You must be close to Five already, too, after that battle.”
“Oh yeah. . . .” Bob appeared to have somehow forgotten the fact. “I’m a Spellcaster now, not some punk-ass Journeyman. Ahem: very soon I shall be a Mage.”
“What comes after that?”
“Warlock.” He drew out the word slowly, and I could tell he couldn’t wait to be called by that title.
“What about witches? Do they have the same titles?”
“Mostly the same, but we call a sixth-level female a Witch. Then come the titles that piss off some of the feminist broads: Conjuress instead of Conjurer, Sorceress instead of Sorcerer, Enchantress instead of Wizard, and finally, Grand Enchantress.”
“Wait, what’s a tenth-level wizard called?”
“Master Wizard.”
“That’s a relief. I was worried it was going to be something else. . . .”
“Yeah, I can see how that would sound bad.”
We strolled out into the city. I might have strutted, actually; I felt pretty darn good about how I looked. I had left my breastplate at the inn so the girls could see my chest beneath my tunic, though I wasn’t quite ready to walk around without a shirt yet.
I didn’t leave our lodgings without my morningstar though. Monsters weren’t common in the city during the day, but you never knew what kind of belligerent player you might run into. But when I walked by the weapon shop, the first floor open to the street, and saw the magic sword displayed prominently to potential patrons, my weapon no longer satisfied me. Especially not with the broken spikes, although the bloodstains looked cool. Then I remembered, hey, I’m a Level Five now. I can use magic weapons.
The sword was available to Fives, but it was still out of my reach: even if I traded in my morningstar, I didn’t have enough gold. A female voice interrupted my disappointment.
“Hey there. Want to level up?”
I turned and smiled, but then both our smiles kind of sagged; she looked a little too familiar.
“Wait,” she said. “Didn’t we already hook up?”
“Yeah. Wait, I was a Three then—I’m a Five now.”
She shook her head.
“I’m only a Four. We both have to be two levels higher for it to count. Not that I don’t want to do it again, you look a lot better now, but I need that AP.” She turned skeptically to Bob. “I guess you would do. . . . Do you want to—”
“Yes.” Bob was practically salivating. He told me, “Catch up with you later.”
“Have fun.” The pair went away to find a room, and I was left to wander around looking for that sexy witch. Okay, Mage. “How am I supposed to find someone in this city with all these players and NPCs?”
It had sounded cool to promise her a Fiver and walk out, but now I realized I should’ve arranged to meet her somewhere. I drifted
down the street, searching among the crowd, checking out the shops and thinking about maybe getting a snack. In truth, I could have just followed Bob and waited outside for the five minutes it would take him to work his “magic”—he wasn’t one to take his time with the ladies.
I made up my mind to go into a little place that served something that looked suspiciously like tacos. I was actually in the act of pulling open the door when a deep red shape in the corner of my eye signaled something to my mind.
I turned to see a red-robed figure moving through the crowd maybe ten yards away. I let go of the taco-shop door and followed. I couldn’t be sure it was my witch, but it was certainly a witch, and I wanted to find out which witch it was.
It seemed like the whole crowd conspired against my goal. The throng of people condensed in front of me, and I struggled to push my way through. I must have said “excuse me” a dozen times, and I took and accidentally gave a few elbows to the face in my effort to break through the obstruction.
I finally untangled myself from the knot of pedestrians when an old beggar lady with a jar stepped out and accosted me.
“Master, help a poor old woman!” pleaded the NPC.
At least I hope it was an NPC, because I said “Fuck off, hag,” and shoved her out of the way, sending her face down into the mud. But I’m sure she was an NPC. Almost positive.
It took me a second to spot the red robe again. Now even more distance separated us. I watched as the blood-red form turned behind a building. I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run, narrowly avoided being trampled by a trio of packhorses, and made my way to the building. It was one of the city’s set pieces that looked impressive from the outside but almost certainly contained nothing inside, just like any game from my lifetime. I rounded the corner quick.
Nothing. Well, not nothing, because a merchant had a peasant bent over a barrel. I slipped past the pair of players, trying not to look at the merchant guy’s butt, but even in my peripheral vision the scene was pretty gross. I ran down the back street. I came to the end, where a wall blocked the way ahead, and looked right, then left. Again, nothing.
Conquest Page 7