“Why are you out here robbing travelers anyway? Don’t goblins have better things to do with their time like hunt giant frogs or hang out in caves and smoke that stuff you pull out of the rivers?”
“Swartallis all gone. Food all was gone. Land dying,” the goblin shrugged.
“Bummer, bro. Look, it’s been fun, and no one got killed. We’re heading up the road now,” I said.
Burp shrugged again and gestured, and his troop filed off the road and faded into the brush.
I could now confirm the game description is entirely accurate. They do smell like a sewer.
I RAN my hands over the old staff, flipped it over and read the stats.
4 LE
8 DU
10 MA
* DA
SPECIAL
Huh. The asterisk was a weird way to denote its damage, and what did special mean? I guess I would have to test out the staff when I had the chance. I looked at my HUD and found that my mana pool had expanded a fraction, as had my XP bar. I was getting close to level 5 and might see it by the end of the day. Not only that, but the speech craft icon blinked. I flipped open the book and found that I had an asterisk underneath the XP bar.
Karian had explained that the more we leveled, the more things unlocked and started to make more sense. This was what happened when you had tutorial levels but no damn explanation as to what to do next.
The staff was old wood and well-polished. The top was a gnarled knot, but when I studied the lump, it appeared to be nothing more than a weighted end to smack enemies upside the head with. I had been interested in the staff because I suspected it had magical artifacts. The minute I had seen it there had been a sort of calling, the same way that spells seemed to speak to me.
“That was… surprising,” Karian said.
“When I saw the staff, I wanted it,” I said.
“But you also saved us from potential bloodshed. I’m sure we could have taken those guys, but if one of us died, it would have been a shame to walk all the way back to the binding stone,” she said.
“Right. That too,” I said lamely.
“It’s okay, Walt. You did the right thing,” she said and gave me a quick side hug.
I covered my embarrassment by opening my book again and studying it.
“Learn any new skills, there, Walt?” Oz teased.
“Um. Little speechcraft and I have a new staff icon.” I ignored the jib.
“Any new icons for blushing?” Oz said.
I shot Oz a look that I hoped would burn his face off.
Oz turned away to cover a chuckle.
“I was thinking,” I said and closed the book. “Burp said there’s no food, and that feels strange. Actually, a lot of this seems off. If I remember correctly, when Th’loria launched I walked to the town of Weslori more than a few times and all of these fields were green. There was even a forest farther back just before those mountains,” I pointed into the distance. “I don’t think goblins were introduced until you reached level 10 because they were tied to a bunch of high level fetch quests.”
“Probably part of the beta experience. Maybe they didn’t have time to put all of the pieces in place,” Karian suggested.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said.
“Let’s just get into town and see if we can even afford a crappy room for the night,” Oz said.
“Two,” Karian said.
“Two rooms?” Oz asked.
Karian’s eyebrows went up.
“Whatever. Let’s just get off this damned road. I need some food and water,” Oz said.
I had to agree with him. Now that I thought about it, hadn’t there been a well nearby? There may even have been a stream running alongside the road, but it was gone now, or they had never been completed in the first place.
We set our eyes on the road and finished our trek to Weslori without any further trouble.
That came shortly after we arrived.
15
WESLORI AT LAST
Some people like space MMOs, and some others like crafting MMOs where you build stuff out of whatever you can chop down or dig up. I tried some crafting games based on older titles that became immensely popular in the pre-teens of the twenty-first century, but I found them to be a total grind fest. Laugh it up, at least in Th’loria you made progress and didn’t just build a house.
Not that it wasn’t a grind half of the time. Going out and fighting baby umber-hulks for hours while trying not to draw the attention of a fully grown one, could be a pain, but also immensely rewarding when a group took one down. It worked best with a real party including a player skilled in pulling a single mob so the rest of the team could lay the smack down.
Maybe I should have given crafting games a little more effort. Compared to this world, they were a lot less dangerous.
The city of Weslori was the first major hub of activities that most players visited when Realms of Th’loria launched back in the day. It was a beautiful city with twenty foot-tall stone walls. A castle on the hill looked out over the local lands, and huge flags from the greater and lesser empires of Nashara blew in the breeze, announcing a welcoming message to all who visited.
I fondly remembered the entryway with the finely crafted archway and reinforced wooden doors wide open to the world. Guards resplendent in their golden and crimson armor standing at attention with pikes in hand. Smiling NPCs going about their predetermined errands and among them other brand new players following their quests or hunting down new ones.
Colorful buildings with smoking chimneys, gardens, lawns, and perfectly coiffed hedges, in front of homes and businesses. A blacksmith who pounded metal and sold weapons a few blocks from the gate. A herbalist who would pay top dollar for the flowers and berries you retrieved. Guilds for training, a barracks that housed guards, and would put you up if you were of sufficient rank as a warrior.
Weslori had truly been a shining gem surrounded by caves, monsters, roaming mobs, and constant traffic.
Unfortunately, that’s not what was in store for us.
“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked. “Doesn’t look the way I remember.”
“It’s changed a little is all,” Karian said.
“A little?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Two slovenly guards dressed in rusted plate mail sat off to the side of the gate tossing dice next to a smoldering pile of glowing firewood. The giant double doors hung at an odd angle, and heaps of refuse lay in the entry way like some asshole had come along and decided to dump rotted vegetation rather than attempt to sell it in the market.
The guards regarded us, but they didn’t even get to their feet to issue a challenge
“S’up, fellas?” I greeted them.
“Move along, buncha towsers. Just what ole Weslori needs more homeless and penniless noobs,” the first guard said. He looked like he had slept in his helmet and his beard grew around the opening and sprouted out like a weird moss plant.
“Come on. Let’s get inside,” Karian said.
“What happened to this place? It should look a lot different. Like a lot different. Where are the happy,” I paused as I searched for the word, “and clean inhabitants of the town?”
“Just keep walking. No reason to piss off those guys. They may look like a couple of slobs, but they’re way red,” Karian warned.
“I can’t wait to hit 5, so I can have that ability,” Oz said.
“I think we can find a trainer and make some quick progress if you guys want. I’ve got some coin left,” Karian said.
“Then what?” I said.
“Then we figure out what to do next,” Karian said as we strolled into the city.
“I want to know why everything has degenerated so much. Why is this entire starter area such a pile of steaming dung?” I said.
“I haven’t figured that out either,” Karian said.
A beggar wandered away from a wall. He wore a brown robe covered in dirt and leaves and held out a small wooden cup. A few copper coins rattled
around in the bottom.
“Spare a bit o’ change, my lord. Got hungry kids at home and a wife won’t let me return ‘lest I bring home enough to buy foodstuff,” he begged.
He smelled like sweat, sour wine, and puke. I put my hand over my nose, strolled past him, and nearly ran into a cart that stopped in the middle of the street. Pulled by a single horse that was so skinny his ribs poked out from under his skin, the animal let out a furious stream of urine that splattered my new boots. I jumped back and nearly dropped my staff.
“Watch where you’re going,” I yelled at the driver.
The man was at least a hundred years old and had long stringy hair that hung off his head to partially cover his eyes.
“Oh pardon me, great lord. Did 'na see you walking into my path. Maybe you can excuse an old man and piss off,” he growled.
“Sure thing, considering your horse just pissed all over me,” I replied as I stepped around his broken down cart. In the back, he had a couple of barrels and some vegetables that appeared to have barely survived a famine. Yellow carrots that looked more like roots than vegetables, and a wooden box of potatoes that rotted in their container.
“Bah,” he said and smacked the harness against his horse’s rump.
The horse turned his head, glared at the old man, and then rambled off, the cart close behind as it creaked over the potholed and rubbish-strewn road.
People wandered between homes and businesses, but they seemed to have no real direction or purpose. They simply walked around like robots. We passed a blacksmith, and instead of working his forge, which was cold, the man sat with his back against an anvil and slurped something out of a wine skin.
“Sir. Happen to have any fine swords for sale?” Oz called out to the man.
“Ain’t got a thing. Come back in a month or seven. Might have some ore to work by then. Fair warning, I’ll probably just die of boredom before then,” the man responded, and took another long pull. “Or just drink myself into oblivion. Don’t matter much either way.”
“This city stinks,” Oz said as we left the blacksmith to his wineskin.
“That it does, and I don’t understand why,” I replied.
KARIAN TOOK us to a ramshackle building. A hastily constructed sign bore the words The Bloody Nimbus Inn.
We pooled our money, but after looking over the inflated prices on the board over the bar, there wasn’t going to be enough money for us to stay more than a night or two. The ceiling sagged and the door hung by a prayer, but the interior was warm, somewhat clean if you could ignore the mud that had been tromped in and never cleaned, as well as the alcohol-splattered walls.
Although the more I stared, the more I thought it might be blood.
The inside of the Bloody Nimbus Inn was familiar to me as one of those memories from when you were a kid. The general shape of the room including the fireplace and table placement rang a few bells. A number of patrons sipped from mugs or ate stew from wooden bowls. Smoke rose from the god awful, ever-burning torches and funneled toward the ceiling before finding an escape through a hole in the roof.
“Do we have a plan or are we going to just sit here and get drunk because I’m cool with that,” Oz said. “Just wanted to put that on the table before we start spending our coin. I still think we need to go back to the bandit cave in the morning and raid the coffers.”
“Can we even get drunk here?” Karian said. “And what if that bear is still there? Got a plan to deal with him?
“How about if I do a little investigating on both fronts,” Oz winked.
I had taken a seat with Karian and Oz but then realized the problem with dragging a great staff around. When I propped it against the table, it threatened to fall to the floor. I finally settled on holding it in one hand while I tried to look like I knew what I was doing here.
Oz raised his hand in the air and snapped his fingers, “Oh garçon, a mug of your shittiest ale.”
“Right with ya love,” the server yelled back.
“Make that two,” Karian called, then turned to me. “You too?”
“I’ve got a crazy idea,” I said. “I just remembered something about this inn. It had a different name, but I bet there is a certain someone upstairs who can provide us with answers, or at least a quest so we can earn some easy coin.”
“That sounds like a brilliant idea. Go on up there.” Oz scanned the balcony. “And when those ruffians toss your corpse over the side, we’ll wait for you to respawn and come back here.”
“Bro, I got this,” I argued.
“Got what? Got this,” Oz grabbed his crotch.
“What is your deal?” I asked Oz.
“My deal? Look at this shit hole. I’ve been in third world countries that were cleaner. I just want to go home. Enough of this leveling up crap. Chasing quest stuff crap. Trying to increase my skills crap. I wanna to go back and level up my cheeseburger and fries skill. I bet I could hit fifty in about a week,” Oz spat.
“You’re not helping matters. Stay cool, I think we can get you guys some training tomorrow and unlock your HUDs a little more. It will be a lot easier,” Karian said in a low voice.
“HUD, smud. Tell us how to get home. We know you’re holding out on us, Karian.” Oz said.
“Dude,” I warned.
“You know she’s not telling us everything. She probably knows a magic phrase or something. Send us right back to the labs at AlgerTech,” Oz snapped his fingers.
“I swear to you I have no idea how to get out of the game and I’ve tried everything. I thought the HUD might be the answer for a few hours. I tried confusing it by bringing up skill after skill. Changing direction, flashing on green, yellow, and red mobs, but nothing worked. I tried meditating and calling out to the team back at AlgerTech. If we were in a coma and jacked into the game, I thought maybe it would get their attention. I even went into a field and spelled SOS with a bunch of rocks,” Karian said in frustration. “Know what it got me? Attacked by enormous snakes and I hate snakes.”
“I hate snakes too,” I said.
“Oh, just tell her you love her, you damn idiot,” Oz said.
“What?” I sputtered as my face warmed, and probably turned crimson. “I don’t. You’re delusional.”
“I’m delusional?” Oz kicked the chair back, stood up, and hollered at me.
The server appeared with a sloppy mug of something that smelled sour.
“Be a silver, and if you break my chair, that’ll be your ass out the front door. Don’t make me call Little Rincen from the back. He doesn't take kindly to strangers knocking over his stuff,” the woman warned.
She was almost as tall as Oz but had about fifty pounds on him. I wouldn’t have called her portly, not to her face, but she carried enough weight to be a bodybuilder under her purple- and booze-stained dress.
Oz dug into his bag and pulled up a few coins. He peered at them in the poor light, selected one, and handed it to her.
“Big spender. I’ll be back with your change.”
“Just keep ‘em coming,” Oz said and pointed at the mug, as he picked up his chair and sat.
“Not a problem but you’ll need a few more coppers to make up the difference,” she gave him a flat look.
Oz frowned and sipped the drink. His face pinched up like he just sucked on a lemon. He closed his nose with two fingers and then slurped down half of the mug in one go. He set it down, looked to the side, and then blanched as he clearly fought his stomach for control of what was about to come out of his mouth next.
Thankfully a belch won out over a stream of vomit.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said, flustered by the way Karian stared at me. I couldn’t even look her in the eyes.
Oz sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go ahead and do something stupid. When you wake up at the binding stone a few miles up the road be sure to run back, so those goblins don’t haul you into the woods and try to get another bargain out of you.”
“You’re being
insufferable right now, you know that?” Karian told Oz.
“So what. It’s a big world. We can go our separate ways if that’s what you want,” Oz said.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” Karina crossed her arms over her chest and tried to look relaxed, but her eyes told a different story. To the best of my knowledge, this was still a PvE (Player vs. Environment) area. The PvP (Player vs. Player) stuff didn’t start until you got out of Nashara.
I stood up, collected my staff with a heavy sigh, and went to find the back room on the second floor.
A MAN SAT on a stool in front of a dark curtain and puffed a pipe. The folks upstairs were a motley assortment of the bad, the even more bad, and the ugly. One guy had his feet up on a table, his chair tilted back, and snored loud enough to be heard in Candleburn. He wore an open, puffy white shirt like a pirate, or he had escaped a Seinfeld episode. Since we were miles away from water, it was a strange juxtaposition to the rest of the inn. Another guy cleaned his fingernails with a slim stiletto and smiled when I hit the top stair. Black holes where most of his teeth had been, and a mustache that appeared to attack his nose.
“Need something?” the guy on the chair said.
“You’re Alvus, right?” I inquired.
“Alvus died a few months ago. I’m his brother Clavus,” he said and crossed his scared and heavily tattooed arms over his barrel chest. Next to him sat a hammer that would give Thor a run for his money.
“Sorry to hear that,” I said.
“I wasn’t. He owed me a lot of money, and he ran off with a girl I was sweet on,” Clavus turned and spat on the floor. “Good riddance.”
“Right. So look, I know what goes on in the back room, and I think I can be of assistance to the right people,” I said.
“The right people? See, that’s not how it works anymore. You towsers used to come to the inn in droves. Always begging for work. Asking after this person or that person. It was enough to make a man want to drink himself into a stupor. But go on then. What’s it you want in the back room besides an open chest wound?”
SHARDS OF REALITY: A LitRPG novel (Enter the Realm Book 1) Page 15