Battle Spire

by Michael R. Miller

  If you’re wondering why there are so many bandanas, all I can say is that they are all the rage with bandits roaming around outside the capital. Although technically a helm item, they provided no stat or armor boost at all, which only reminded me of how poor my gear still was. It would have been nice to get out of the gear I’d literally started the game with, but all my resources were precious right now.

  First, I used Breakdown on the remaining bandanas and the tunics, netting me 25 cloth scraps; while the belts got me 14 leather scraps. The weapons were a real boon for they were low-level steel items and granted full iron when they were broken down, rather than mere scraps. I got 12 pieces of iron for my trouble, but I was now nearly out of mana, so I ordered a mana replenishing drink from a passing waitress, flicking her a few coppers as a tip. She gave me a withering look, threw her hair back and stalked off. I guess she was accustomed to getting gold coins instead.

  As I drank and replenished my mana, I noticed a rather large gathering of players at the far end of the tavern. At least twenty or so players had pulled several tables together to sit and put their heads together in privacy. All of them were glancing at the player in the middle who was clearly the leader. If the enormous golden pauldrons defending his shoulders weren’t to show his status, the ludicrously sized two-handed sword upon his back did. At this distance, I couldn’t make out his class or level, though I’d bet my life he was a paladin and that he’d be at least in the high-level 40s. There were no paladins on the level 50 leaderboard, and I doubted one had suddenly hit the cap while I’d been in the Rusking Woods and decided to celebrate with a quiet drink in the tavern.

  He caught me looking at him and met my eyes with a piercing gaze. I took another drink, trying without success to pretend that I was interested in the prancing faun playing the flute behind him. He hunched forward to join the huddle of those around him, paying me no further mind.

  Feeling an uncomfortable shiver, I finished my drink. Argatha was a PvP zone, so pissing off higher level players wasn’t a good idea. Sure, the guards would maul any breakers of the peace but some people might just take to smashing newbies in the face for sport.

  With newbies in mind, I had 3 stat points to allocate from hitting level 4. I’d actually received a point into Might this time, as part of the level up, so I was probably covered there for a while. Putting points into Might before had been a bit indulgent and playing with Xeemtraon and BoneSplitter had taught me that scavengers were best in groups. They weren’t built for solo play. The safest course would be to dump all my new points into Intelligence so I would be able to craft better items and materials as I leveled. Yet given that mana regeneration was a pain, I opted to place 1 point into Willpower just to help balance things out a bit there. My character sheet now looked like this.

  Character

  Zoran Human Scavenger Level 4

  Attributes

  Constitution 12 – Intelligence 19 – Reflexes 11 – Might 13 – Willpower 14

  Combat

  Health 165 – Mana 235 - Attack Power – 28 Spell Power – 37 Regen – 1.8 p/s

  My eye twitched at seeing Intelligence so close to breaking into the twenties. Something about the anticipation of knowing that progress is close to hand is both engrossing and feverish. It’s what keeps you online, even if you shouldn’t still be on because… well, for example, you have a bet to win.

  My thoughts began to circle around that topic again, slowly yet inexorably, as though they were thick syrup swirling down a small drain. Placing myself in a less than ideal position in the real world just to hop online wasn’t the healthiest of decisions. Making money was a good excuse, but at a glance, I maybe had five dollars’ worth of materials. Check me out. Those college tuition fees will be paid off in no time – lickety-split. Inwardly, I groaned. All I’d achieved so far was to dump hundreds of dollars on a crappy weekend break.

  Six months going cold turkey and I’d snapped.

  I checked the clock. It was 1:16am. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. Earlier today, I’d been in a haze of adrenaline and self-righteousness. Now I was winding down, I could feel a real tiredness, despite being in the game. My brain must have been exhausted after the exam, never mind the taxing process of dealing with a VR headset. Perhaps that was why I’d been a bit of a dick to Wylder back in the forest, maybe I was just cranky.

  Yeh, that was probably it.

  A quick break would see me right. Snack, drink, power nap, and then log back in afresh before dawn.

  A series of loud string chords brought me sharply out of my reverie. A band of mythological creatures had taken to the stage, playing what seemed to be a favorite of the NPC patrons.

  The noise of the tavern hit me like a cold shower. The smells became overpowering as well – the lavender choking, the pork nauseating. I was tired. I was really, really tired.

  I noticed the ‘well-rested’ buff had appeared over my health bar, but I suddenly didn’t feel like Crafting. A few extra pieces of this and that on the auction house wasn’t going to jump start things any quicker.

  There was just one last thing, pinging in the back of my mind like a broken fire alarm. The quest relating to the mysterious note – Report to Marshal Highcross. I hated to leave something unfinished. The quest was to simply hand in the note on the Red Eye to this Marshal fellow inside the Imperial Spire. It was not a hard quest, probably designed to give new players a reason to reach the city and be blown away by it.

  If there was one thing Hundred Kingdoms had done right, it was the world. The detail was incredible. It felt both huge and lived in, and I’d only seen the barest slice of it. So many races and lands to explore, so much to do and see. The Imperial Spire was but one of many wonders of the game.

  One simple quest. An easy hand in, a bit of experience, then I’d log off for a bit.

  Resolved, I got to my feet and negotiated the myriad of hairy staff in the Orb & Scepter, throwing the high-level paladin and his friends another glance now that I was closer. This time I could make out his player information bar.

  ????? – Paladin – Level 50

  That was weird. Maybe I couldn’t see the names of high-level players. Perhaps it was to stop lowbies asking for gold or help, or maybe he simply had his privacy settings cranked up to eleven. He was undeniably level 50, so he must have snuck onto the leaderboard recently. I’d be sure to check once I logged out, and with that in mind, I left the Orb & Scepter and made my way towards the Imperial Spire.

  10

  The Imperial Spire of Argatha, the heart of the Imperium, rose like an icicle of marble and limestone. It was dazzlingly white, even under moonlight, except where it was inlaid with gold or spotted with vibrant bursts of color from stained-glassed windows.

  A sight to behold as I took the drawbridge over the moat, a defense which ran a complete ring around the tower. A second gate awaited across the water, set into a high wall encircling the Spire grounds. Upon the parapets, I could make out two great siege ballistae, formidable defenses that were able to cut through any armor. Players had speculated how much it would take to assault Argatha and kill the Emperor during a world PvP event, if the city and its players were prepared. The general conclusion was that it would take a ‘shit ton’ of people, and we were certainly a long way off such a large-scale encounter this early into release.

  What I wouldn’t give to be present at such a huge event. It’s the stuff MMOs are made for.

  I made it through the second gate and into the courtyard. Rows of trimmed hedges decorated the grounds as though placed by an artisan weaver. A veritable army of NPC guards patrolled the Spire grounds, each encased in heavy blue-tinted steel with the white spire displayed upon their tabards. Each was heavily armed with a great Roman-style shield, a broadsword at their waists and a spear in hand. Some even had pistols at their hips, and I supposed some sharpshooters would be up on the crenelated walls.

  A blue carpet ran up the steps of the entranceway into the main throne room as if
it was leading to the Oscars. My feet pressed into its soft lining, and I marveled again at the sensory detail that this game could produce. I crossed the threshold into the throne room and gasped.

  It was a space of cathedral proportions with a mighty throne at the distant end. Countless stained-glass windows projected a rainbow of soft light across the hall, picking up twinkles of dust in the air. The walls were one continuous mural of carved stone, displaying events of the Imperium; great battles or the conquest of realms now forgotten. Viewing galleries overlooked the queuing players and NPCs alike, who were standing patiently before the throne. From this distance, the Emperor looked so small, no bigger than my thumb when I held it up for comparison.

  I couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. This was magnificent, and I was glad I’d made the trip. Such a display of wealth would have bankrupted real-world medieval nations had they attempted it. God, I love fantasy RPGs.

  I asked one of the guards if they could direct me to Marshal Highcross. Apparently, he was in the war room, which was the military wing of the Spire, down the grand corridor and immediately to the left of the throne itself.

  Wishing I’d unlocked some kind sprint ability, I headed off as instructed. The military wing was a veritable web of other hallways, rooms and staircases; the Spire must be truly huge at the base. Luckily Highcross, being a major quest NPC, stood out prominently in the war room – at least, the NPC I thought was Highcross.

  He wore the same thick plate armor as the regular guards, but his face was uniquely crafted. A chunk was missing from his nose, his hair was cropped brutally close to his scalp, and he had a black patch over one eye. Bent over a detailed 3D modeled map of what looked like the entire game world, he looked up at me when I approached. The information that flicked on over his head told me I’d found my man.

  Marshal Highcross – Warrior – level 45 Elite

  His scowl could have melted stone.

  “And what is a scraggly dressed junk-dweller like you doing in my war room?”

  Under normal circumstances, I’d have frozen up and nervously stuttered a reply. But this was Hundred Kingdoms. In here, I had no reason to be afraid.

  “This mighty scavenger of ancient lineage has been tasked by the Mayor of Rusking to deliver this rather mysterious note to you.” I gave a mock bow and held the note out before me.

  “Give that here,” Highcross barked. “And don’t be impertinent, or I shall have you flogged, whether you’re a citizen of the Imperium or not.” His one eye began whizzing across the writing.

  Quest Complete – The Red Eye Watches

  You have safely delivered the note to Marshal Highcross. He’ll surely wish to know the full details of how you came about it.

  Rewards

  +400 EXP

  Silver coins x 5

  I nodded, satisfied at the experience gain. With that, I was only about 300 points shy of level 5. It would be quick enough to achieve that next time I logged in.

  Highcross finished reading and frowned at me. I was tempted to jerk him around some more. Might be fun to see how far the AI would take things if I was rude or insubordinate. Would he snap and actually attack me?

  “Now, how did a junk-dweller come by something like this?”

  “Well,” I began in my most pompous manner. “I was in the Rusking Wood when—”

  A scream rang through the Spire.

  A proper blood-chilling shriek.

  Dread and fear washed over me. My very vision darkened, and I felt like I’d been plunged into a freezer unit. I saw an icon appear over my health bar, on the opposite side to the ‘well-rested’ buff: a debuff had infected me.

  Cry of the Damned

  Movement speed reduced by 20%

  Attack power reduced by 10%

  Spell power reduced by 15%

  Only a holy cleansing of equal power can dispel this curse.

  Duration: 40 seconds

  I managed to right myself, though I still felt dazed. Sounds of clashing steel, explosions both magical and mechanical, echoed down the corridor from the throne room.

  Marshal Highcross drew his broadsword. “We’re under attack. You, scav, come here.” He gave me no chance to move, grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and dragging me over to the nearest wall. He rapidly tapped on a series of bricks and the wall groaned, hissed, then a segment began to slide away. Utter darkness awaited me.

  “In you get,” Highcross said. “And skulk at the back will you, more valuable people than you will need the space.”

  He shoved me inside.

  “Wait,” I cried. “What’s going on?”

  I turned and managed to catch a glimpse of a hellish looking giant bat with visible bones and rotting flesh, slam into Highcross.

  Before I could do anymore, the wall had closed over and I was left alone.

  All sound from the Spire was snuffed out, dulled to a low thrum through the stone. Guards called to one another, cruel voices cast spells that I couldn’t comprehend. Death pangs followed.

  What in the hell was going on? Was this some sort of random in-game event? I highly doubted it was a natural stage to this early quest chain.

  My brain finally started working again and I remembered that I had a lantern in my inventory. Equipping it meant I would at least have some light to see by. I was in what I could best describe as a broom cupboard without any of the amenities. Highcross had yelled something about putting more valuable people in here, but I wasn’t sure many others would fit. There was not even a chair to sit on. The only other thing in here, besides myself, was a lever on the wall which I presumed reopened the sliding section of the wall.

  From outside of my ‘cell’ I could hear muffled voices.

  “That them all?”

  “Hope so. Fuckers just kept coming.”

  “Well, they won’t respawn for a few hours, so we got time. Boss should be at the top by now, we’ve to go and secure the wall and drawbridge.”

  A group of people pounded away back towards the throne room, some in plate sabatons, by the sounds of it, and others in leather. So, someone had attacked the Imperial Spire? And not only that they’d cleared out all the NPC guards in record time? I supposed if they’d all been hit with that debuff, then the attacker’s job would have been much easier. But who on earth could have pulled it off? Maybe it was some in-game event, after all, with the AI having a high old time.

  Unsure of what to do, I checked the time. 2:07am. I’d already stayed on longer than I intended for the first session so I decided just to log off as planned. Whatever was going on would probably have reset or been sorted out by then. Time to go. I brought up the menu and selected ‘exit game’.

  Error – Logout Disabled

  I blinked rapidly as though the notification was simply some blotch on my retinas, then tried again.

  Error – Logout Disabled

  “What the—”

  Again. Same error.

  I began running my hands through my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling until it hurt. Now I was starting to get anxious. The walls of the cell seemed to close in around me, suffocating me.

  I beat on the exit game button with my fist but it was no good. For some reason, I couldn’t logout of Hundred Kingdoms. This was a huge issue, not just for me, but for everyone playing. If the Frostbyte servers had gone haywire there could be some seriously huge health implications for people, never mind folk simply being late for work or school if they’d gotten trapped online.

  But it just didn’t make sense. No VR MMO had experienced an issue like this since the vanilla versions decades ago. The servers, the hardware, the internet connection reliability, and an advanced AI watching over it all, meant that nothing could go wrong by accident.

  I started to pace around, although that meant two steps in each direction in an endless tiny loop. I was just at the stage of deciding to head back out and see what all the commotion had been about when my entire UI was suddenly swamped by a video feed.

  I
t appeared like a breaking news broadcast and I had no way of closing the window. The footage was a POV shot looking down upon a city at night from a perilous height – a ye olde, fantasy-style looking city, with a ringed moat clearly visible. Whoever this person was, they were very high up the Imperial Spire, looking down upon Argatha. Was this the ‘boss’ I’d heard the voices outside refer to?

  The camera spun and floated away from the player until we were treated to a full shot of them. It appeared to be a paladin in a full set of glorious golden armor. I’d swear on my life that it was the very same paladin I’d just seen in the Orb & Scepter. This was becoming surreal.

  Once more, the camera swayed and then zoomed into the player’s face. Whoever they were, they had given their heroic paladin the most chiseled jaw, all-American hero vibe that character creation could buy. Perfect thick blond locks danced around his perfect face. When he spoke it might have been an angel’s voice.

  “Sorry to interrupt everyone’s gaming session, but I have some very important information for you all. Trust me, you’d kill yourself if you miss it. So, pay attention.”

  I gulped. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t some event designed by the AI or the dev team. This was real, and my throat tightened from the stress.

  “I have taken control of Hundred Kingdoms. All logout features are disabled, so don’t even bother trying to leave. And I wouldn’t advise deliberately getting your character killed to log off either. I’ve injected a virus into the game and should your health hit zero, your headsets will not follow the correct wake-up procedure. In other words, you will die.”

  Though his voice was still angelic there was cruelty in his eyes, and perhaps, excitement. An angel of death, more like it.

  The player flashed a smile. “Everyone understand? You can’t logout and you really don’t want to die. And please, for your own sake, don’t try to play the hero. This isn’t a game anymore. The Spire is on lockdown and there is no way in or out.”