The Imagineer's Bloodline: Ascendant Earth Chronicles – Book 1

by J. J. Lorden

  From the calves down, the skin grew darker, fading to the color of coffee. The toes, like the fingers, were tipped by black, pointed nails. The avatar’s eyes were also curious. He’d noted them when inspecting the avatar’s face but felt compelled to take another look.

  They were blue-green, and the pupils seemed not to be perfectly round. He glided in and got right up close. A curve of light glinted between the blue-green and white. “What… is that?” he whispered.

  A tag appeared indicating the eyes with a thin line.

  Ocular appearance is a precursor of a dormant evolutionary trait of the Dramogan blood line. Seek an evolved Dramogan to learn more.

  “Well, that’s a bit annoying. Cool too, though. Guess I’ll just have to find an evolved Dramogan.”

  He floated back. All in all, the avatar was a bit strange looking but not unattractive, and it had a naturally imposing presence. Austin thought it was perfect for a fantasy game.

  As he considered accepting the build, an itch tickled his mind–something about the DrakkenWood Skin ability. He scrolled and found it. That’s right, the asterisk.

  *DrakkenWood—These mythical trees produce fruit that is a delight to all Dragons. Incredibly rare and difficult to find, the great winged race learned to cultivate DrakkenWood, and the trees slowly became abundant in and around draconic cities and nests. Over time, the DrakkenWood absorbed powerful essential energies from the Dragons, and they began to change.

  Already a sturdy species that grew tall and strong even in rocky environs, the DrakkenWood evolved bark that mimicked dragon scales in both appearance and durability. Internally, the wood itself turned black, became harder than forged steel, and began to resonate with the deep energies of Kuora.

  As the trees evolved, they also became self-aware and ultimately intelligent. Utilizing the immense interconnected root network that lives far underground, the DrakkenWood found and began to communicate with Ents over vast distances.

  From the Ents the DrakkenWood learned a raw emotional type of speech that was short-range but which allowed them to begin speaking to their dragon caretakers. Through this intermediary relationship, Dragons and Ents formed an unlikely but powerful bond. In sharing both knowledge and power the two long-lived races found in each other a kinship that lasts to this day.

  Unfortunately, the DrakkenWood evolution meant their substance became an unequaled component for crafting deep energy imbued weapons and tools. The other races eventually learned of the DrakkenWood connection to deep energy. The knowledge spread, turning many to embark on dark deeds in search of DrakkenWood fortune.

  Bounties so high they gave monarchs pause put the DrakkenWood atop the list of every mercenary band in the Empire. Vicious and bloody battles were fought in pursuit of DrakkenWood parts as the Dragons and Ents rose up in their defense. An untold number of beings died hunting the trees.

  To this day the places they once grew are marked by the blackened bones of the fallen. Black not from scorching, but rather annealed by the explosive death rattle of DrakkenWood essence triggered whenever a tree was uprooted.

  Wise men have learned not to covet these bones, while fools sneak them, hoping to wrench power from the lingering essence–fools go mad and die.

  The DrakkenWood eventually dwindled as their draconic caretakers refused to cultivate an arboreal being destined to be the epicenter of war and bloodshed.

  In the wake of the DrakkenWood raids, the Dragons formed strike teams to search out and reclaim the fallen trees. Few of the bounty posters, wealthy individuals who paid the blood money, lived to reap the benefits.

  Much time has passed since then, and DrakkenWood crafted items are steeped in lore as much as they are in the deep energies. It is no doubt true that their substance is a powerful conduit capable of producing either wondrous boons or horrible destruction. All of the most powerful essence imbued items in Kuora use DrakkenWood in some aspect of their construction.

  Today very few DrakkenWood remain, and those that do grow far within the depths of draconic strongholds, beyond the reach of greedy hearts.

  The dialog faded. Austin’s attention languidly drifted back to the grove as a vivid image of ancient DrakkenWood battle-sites clutched at his mind. Everything suddenly felt a bit surreal.

  Moments passed and he found himself staring at his avatar in wonder, it was connected to this universe, more he was this avatar. He was going to go live in this world of deep energies, human frailties, Dragons, Entish, and the possibility of a limitless self.

  He stayed like that, breathing slow and letting the energy of awe and gratitude soak his spirit.

  When he was ready, Austin took a final look at his attributes.

  Avatar Attributes:

  Strength: 18

  Constitution: 16

  Agility: 15

  Twitch: 14

  Intellect: 14

  Willpower: 14

  Charisma: 13

  Advanced Attributes:

  Presence: 1

  It looked great, compared to other games that had base-ten systems for attributes, Austin couldn’t remember ever starting with stats that were so high. He had only one question.

  “Hey Ink, what does Twitch do?”

  “Twitch is the avatar attribute that determines reaction speed and influences explosive muscle movements.”

  “Okay, so it determines if I can catch a thrown dagger or duck a punch and how hard I could then throw that dagger back or counterstrike after ducking?”

  “Not entirely as in both of those examples Agility or Strength would also play a role. In your first example with the dagger, Twitch determines if you can react in time to move your hand into the path of the dagger. However, Agility controls your capacity to catch said dagger as opposed to simply being pierced through the hand.

  “Should your Agility allow you to catch the dagger, Twitch then determines how quickly you shift your grip and throw it back, while Agility determines if you cut yourself in the process and how accurate the throw is. As daggers have limited mass, Strength would have a minimal impact on damage dealt should your throw land.

  “In your fisticuffs example, Twitch would determine if you could react quickly enough to avoid the assailant’s punch. Whereas Agility influences your footwork while dodging, and how well you retain optimal position to strike back.

  “Presuming your Agility has allowed you to maintain a body position advantageous to retaliation, Twitch would then determine how fast your return blow reaches the assailant. As force is a function of both mass and speed, Strength and Twitch together would regulate the amount of damage delivered. In this example Strength is the stand-in for mass.”

  “Huh, that makes sense. Good explanation, Ink. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Austin.”

  With satisfaction, Austin accepted his avatar. A system message appeared.

  Are you sure you want to accept this avatar? By accepting you will be permanently bound to it, this cannot be undone.

  There was no confirm button.

  “Yes, I accept.” The avatar dropped to the circle, impacting with a reverberating clang that filled the stone paved clearing with the air of finality. Its arms and knees flexed slightly as it seemed to come to life.

  Moments later, the black seal upon which his avatar stood began to glow. Several runes within the exterior ring lit up like burning points. The warm light spread over the avatar, covering it in a golden shell.

  Ghostly images of six runes floated up from the seal onto the golden casing, they formed a ring about the torso, pulsed once, and were absorbed into the shell. The entire shell pulsed a second time and then it was absorbed into the avatar. The seal and engravings settled back to their original cut-stone black.

  The system, in a neutral female voice spoke.

  “Kuoran avatar bound to Master Austin Texier. Bound avatar is an Equilibrium avatar. Congratulations Austin. Every Kuoran avatar is unique. Your avatar is yours alone.”

  “Nice. Each a
unique snowflake.”

  “Nicely done, Austin, your perseverance has been rewarded.” The monk regarded the avatar first and then Austin. “Your intuitive grasp of the interface is impressive. You have reached quite a bit further than the required minimum to proceed.”

  Austin looked at him, momentarily confused, before remembering his initial struggles and the requirement to have a basic level of skill using the mental interface.

  He could now move around effortlessly and had been continuously doing so throughout the process. Feeling proud, he boogied a little jig. Can clouds dance a jig? he wondered. Whatever… this one does.

  “Yes, that’s very good,” Ink said. “Your easy grasp of interfacing with the system is, to some degree, why you were able to unlock such a powerful avatar.” The monk moved over toward his avatar. “Now tell me, Austin, how will you be called in Kuora?”

  “Huh, be called what?”

  Ink extended his hand to the side and a box appeared: Avatar Name. It was empty.

  Of course. He needed to choose an in-game name.

  “Erramir Darkfyre,” he said, and the name appeared in the box.

  Erramir meant wise protector, someone every world should have, and shoes he aspired to fill. He was essentially shepherding this world into a meeting with the people of Earth, after all.

  He also just liked it–rolled off the tongue well.

  Ink extended one hand in invitation toward Austin. “Are you ready to embark upon your journey?”

  Austin blew out slowly, feeling the odd dissonance of breathing without a body again. Despite that, it settled him. “Yes.”

  Ink turned toward the avatar and extended his other hand. He stood like that for a moment, then Austin felt his form shift. A sense of being released from bonds flashed over him. It felt liberating.

  Ink’s robes were suddenly covered in runes that began to glow like heating elements coming to life. He looked at Austin. “May the ancient blood be once again forged in truth.”

  A hint of concern shot through him. Ancient blood? What? He had honestly expected a simple wish of good luck.

  He tried to ask Ink about it–but his voice was gone. Stunned by the loss, he reached for his mouth, but his mist-made hands failed to form.

  Then he watched the grove and Ink fade from view. The vanishing character creation realm left nothing but inky black.

  A golden thread extended from his avatar, and he felt a touch of uncertainty. He banished the fear and filed Ink’s cryptic statement away for later. Then he extended his dissolving mist toward the glowing strand of liquid.

  His vapor exploded out into the black, filling it with glittering points of light. The world warped, expanding as he shrank and was drawn into the thread.

  Austin rode the cord of energy like a train car toward his mountainous avatar. Finally, all sensation vanished, and light consumed his view.

  14

  Moonlit Vale

  The entity called Austin ceased to exist as it became a single point of awareness. Nameless and formless, the pure conscious entity realized it actually was Point, singular, not one of many. It was Point, not a point. Point set about examining the new body.

  It zipped about the avatar, slowed to ponder one bit or another, then floated lazily, moving into an eye socket and back out an armpit. Sometimes within, examining organs, arteries, and nerves, sometimes circling outside the body inspecting proportions, skin tone, and muscle curvature.

  This went on until Point was satisfied. It concluded that the body was quite good and feeling pleased, Point began expanding.

  It filled the chest, then the shoulders and into the gut, on down to the hips and out to the arms, hands, legs–a pop up into the head–and finally, grounded itself into the feet.

  As the process completed, Point ceased being a singular consciousness and became Erramir. Straight away, Erramir felt strange but wonderful energy flowing from the ground into his feet. Through it, he felt linked to a great well of power that made his awareness both expansive and crisp.

  Ink and the forested clearing of character creation were gone, as were the prompts and game dialogs. He was alone, standing on the golden seal in a cosmos filled with uncountable stars.

  It was entirely unlike the training construct where he’d worked with Elle. That space had a sterile, empty feel; this was anything but. This experience was infinite and substantial.

  The seal vibrated; the stars winked out, and he–shifted.

  Something brushed lightly against his thighs, knees, and calves. A warm breeze stirred his neck and forearm hair. In the dirt, his toes felt strands of... grass.

  Erramir opened his eyes. “Woah...” The whisper left him gaping.

  He was standing in a field of ripe, thigh-high prairie grass. It was night, one of those nights with moonlight so bright it cast neat shadows. A gentle wind caressed the meadow and his face.

  He was at the crest of a slope that dropped away from him on the right. At the bottom was a vale with a running stream. Beyond it, the land gradually rose to a thicket of deep green boundary brush, which guarded a forest of divergent trees.

  Within the wood, canopies were colored in a palette of blues and silvers under the moonlight.

  The field grass rustled as their thick tops swayed, brushing against each other. The wind passed in languorous waves, bending wide ribbons of grass. The moonlight caught the rough underside of the seed heads, making entire wind-bent strips appear blue-black.

  For some time, Erramir watched, entranced, as these bands of darkness swept through a sea of pale blue.

  Nocturnal insects peeped and chirped, lending sharp notes to the night. It all had a wild sense of life.

  Erramir’s feet hummed with energy and his awareness was drawn to them.

  He crouched. Grass bent against his chest and caught beneath his chin as he pressed a hand into the earth.

  The dirt was loamy, spongy, undisturbed for untold years. His hand sunk in, compressing, and being embraced. His toes and the balls of his feet sank deeper as his heels came up.

  The energy that hummed in his feet also rose into his hand and heightened the sensation. Before long, his whole body was tingling. Erramir felt as if he could almost leap from the ground and take flight with this energy.

  Well, maybe not. He smiled. Or, maybe, just not yet. Who knew what was possible here in Kuora?

  Standing back up, Erramir vibrated with joyful awareness. His eyes slowly traversed the vale, penetrating deeply into its details with remarkably acute sight.

  A dark beetle crawled on the crown of a grass-stalk thirty feet ahead, a hare darted into the boundary brush, and two large birds glided over the distant treetops, then banked in unison.

  Erramir felt that he was looking at the world with his whole being. It was as if his eyes and mind were just one part of a larger mechanism of sight.

  A deep sense of rightness accompanied this whole-body looking. That rightness made him feel like all problems and concerns were silly, petty little things.

  Most strikingly of all, Erramir was connected in a way he had never before experienced. His being was bright and solid–he felt intimately like a part of this place.

  All of the positive energy was almost too much. On impulse, he looked at the sky and released a joyous howl. The spontaneous act left him grinning, and he stood listening, waiting for... he didn’t really know.

  After a few heartbeats, Erramir tentatively started moving along the crest of the slope. His bare feet felt so much sensation with each stride; it was mesmerizing.

  For several minutes, he wandered aimlessly about in the grass, just enjoying the sensations. Then he remembered his friends–he hadn’t seen any sign of them. Erramir looked up and regarded two moons.

  Feeling drunk on the energy of the experience, he asked them, “You two have a suggestion as to where I should look?” Probably not. He thought and smiled. Still beautiful, though.

  One was the familiar blue-grey like the moon he knew, and the oth
er was smaller and icy blue. Unfortunately, they didn’t offer him any hints. For now, they would be his silent companions.

  This was definitely a realistic and open-ended start. In role-playing games, a local area map was typically part of a player’s standard HUD. Erramir focused, using the desire-pull interaction he’d learned in character creation to bring up a map.

  Nothing happened. No surprise there, really. He’d been the one to warn his friends about probably not starting the game with a mapping function.

  He stopped, awestruck, and just stood there. Kuora felt so real. Maybe the software was goosing his serotonin production, or perhaps it was just his own natural excitement, but everything here was so unbelievably alive!

  It probably didn’t hurt that he was outside, in an unknown place, alone at night. That all by itself was a thrill. Whatever the reason was, he felt more awake than he ever remembered feeling on Earth.

  Looking up, Erramir queried the sky again, “Ink?” He waited. “Elle?” There was no response from either QI. “Okay. Full immersion. Good.”

  He decided to take inventory of his gear. His clothes were a simple, sturdy cloth, and a messenger-style bag was slung crosswise over his left shoulder. He pulled the bag around and unwound a simple leather cord holding it closed.

  There was a water skin, food rations of hard cheese and some dried meats, a curious smooth oval stone which fit neatly in his palm, a red-colored vial snugged into a sleeve stitched inside the bag, and a thick sheet folded in quarters.

  Pulling the sheet out and unfolding it revealed writing in strange, angular symbols. The page looked very old. He turned it over and rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. “This doesn’t feel like paper… hide, maybe?” Nothing else revealed itself under his careful study, so he refolded and stowed it.

  A bit befuddled with the lack of information, he pulled out the vial. It was about the size of his index finger, which was markedly larger than his finger on Earth.