Dream Stream Reality: Publisher's Pack Books 1-2: (A LitRPG Adventure)

by Derrick Burke

  Han Goldeneye peers at us as we get closer, and I make the purple flame I’m holding in my palm grow larger. The lines of light carved into my skin are glowing semi brightly in the darkness, adding to the ambient glow.

  “Is that you, Lord Sybaal?” Han asks a little reluctantly, not wanting to offend.

  “It is indeed I,” I reply with a grin. “How do you like my true form?”

  “It, ah, suits you, my lord,” says Han with relief. “We have some grave news concerning the fortress.”

  “Oh, pray tell us what would bring you all the way out here looking for us,” says Ifalna.

  Looking back at the other felorians and the steel-clad bear man, he continues, “Our fortress has been besieged by the entire ursine clan. Initially they arrived in such large numbers to defeat our tainted brethren and Lord Varim. However, now they are wanting to do battle with the ones who defeated them, and they won't leave until they have done so.”

  Chief Kleemek pipes up, “I told you they were a bunch of battle-crazed beasts.”

  A deep rumbling growl fills the air. “If you dishonour my clan further, I will be forced to disregard my prisoner status and duel you personally. We ursines are an honourable race, and I will not stand here and let you abuse our glorious way of life without recompense!”

  Chief Kleemek snorts and is about to continue, but I hold a hand up for silence and turn to the ursine. “How did you come to be a prisoner of my steward, and is it true that your people will not leave until they have sated their bloodlust?”

  “My father, Chief Branko, has decreed it, so it will be,” responds the ursine. “He sent me and many others to search the forests for any other felorians and to do battle with them. If we won or lost, we would invite them to our camp to wait for your return. I found Chief Han leaving via a secret entrance and challenged him. He defeated me and refused to come to our camp, so I have been his prisoner ever since. Mostly due to my knowledge of the location of the entrance.”

  I look at Steward Han in surprise. “That must have been an interesting fight.”

  “It was long, if nothing else,” states Steward Han with aplomb. “We must return to the fortress quickly and deal with this issue so that we can continue with your orders. Presently, none of my clan are being allowed out of the fortress without the threat of violence. Even when one of our warriors wins, they aren't allowed free rein, only allowed to move around within the camp they have created.”

  “You chose right in coming to relate these issues to me. Though, I was on my way to the fortress after we had returned to the nymphs and gathered their elder,” I say. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Does it include why you are travelling with nymphs, kobolds and goblins? Especially since these clans have had feuds between them for quite a long time now,” asks Steward Han, motioning toward the different groups.

  “You are entirely correct.” I nod in reply. “All three of these clans now are willing vassals of ours. I am abolishing all hostilities between the different clans within the Glade, and I require the clan heads to make an oath to that effect. Let us wait till we get to Elder Sylan before we continue with this conversation though.”

  “Very well. Will we be tarrying long there? I am anxious to be away from the fortress for so long,” Han says, wringing his hands a little.

  “I doubt we will be staying long there,” Kazzrak replies with a grin. “How about we move a little faster than the slow dawdling pace we have been travelling at so far, hmm?”

  “Race you to the village?” Ezekial yells behind him, already sprinting past the felorians, Kazzrak hard on his heels with Karma beside him.

  With a sigh and a smile, I gesture to everyone around me. “Well, don't just stand there, people, let's get a move on. We have places to be and people to see!”

  With that, I too start sprinting through the trees, Grace keeping pace with me.

  We all trundle our way to the village tree at our own paces, so naturally some of us make it quicker than others. Eloise and her group keep calling out to the nymphs we pass to gather everyone into the village.

  Upon reaching the village, I glance at the time and see that it is 02:45, and we wait for Eloise to catch up with her group to get Elder Sylan and another five nymphs who are distinctive to their people and the trainers.

  By the time everyone rolls in and the nymphs come down the lift, it's 03:00.

  Once everyone has arrived, I address the felorians. “Steward Han, you and your people were the first among my vassals and as such should benefit from the gifts I have already given all the others. Come forth and please do as I instruct.”

  When they are standing in front of me, I move to Steward Han and give him a raid invite. Moving his hand specifically, he joins the raid with a sharp intake of breath.

  Looking at me strangely, he says quietly, “Thank you, my lord. You have opened my eyes to the world around me.”

  “Then share my gift with the rest of your people,” I say in response, nodding and inviting the rest of the felorians he has chosen to bring with him.

  Turning to the ursine, I ask, “Your people may be enemies of ours at present, though I wish to make you allies to the rest of the clans that reside in our Glade. Will you accept the same gift I have given Steward Han? What is your name, son of Chief Branko?”

  “My name is Halvard, and I am not one to turn down gifts freely given. I accept, though the rules our kind live by demand I must respond in kind with an equal gift,” agrees Halvard with a gentle rumble.

  Repeating my actions, I invite Halvard into the raid and he fills the last slot in my fifty-person transparent raid window.

  He abruptly sits on his haunches with a thump. Taking a massive heaving breath, he exhales it slowly before turning his eyes to meet mine. “You have given a gift that I cannot repay in kind. My honour demands I must seek to amend my debt; therefore, my hammer and shield are yours as long as you are honourable.”

  You have gained 1 vassal. Current vassals: 1235. Gain more vassals to help protect your Duchy.

  “I accept your gift as equal to my own,” I say formally, bowing my head slightly. “I trust you no longer need to be a prisoner?”

  “That is correct. I will go where you will it,” Halvard agrees, bowing.

  “Steward Han, return his weapons, if you please,” I say, one less thing to worry about.

  “That was quick. A simple 'I'm yours' and bam, wham, over and done with,” mutters Dosan as Steward Han gives Halvard a massive double-headed hammer and a shield as tall as myself. Both of those I wouldn't want to come into contact with. A single face of the hammer is equal to my own head, and there are two of them.

  “My, what a big hammer you have,” Kazzrak compliments, peering at it with a massive smile. “Mind if I give it a swing?”

  “If you can lift it, dwarf, I will permit you to hit my shield as practice,” Halvard acquiesces, setting the hammer in front of him on the ground with the handle pointing straight up.

  Walking up to it, Kazzrak can't stop grinning, and his arms are trembling in anticipation. When he stands next to the handle, it is the same height as he is.

  “Ready?” asks Kazzrak with raised eyebrows and a grin. “Defend yourself.”

  Halvard grins, which really just looks menacing, to be honest. All those teeth in his head are so very pointy. He sets his shield into place in a proper defensive stance.

  With one quick motion, Kazzrak grabs the hammer with one hand around neck height and lifts it off the ground with a twirl. Halvard has time for his eyes to widen, and his stance shifts slightly lower before Kazzrak swings. The shield reverberates from the crushing blow, and the sound of a massive gong penetrates my ears.

  Two deep furrows are dug into the ground from Halvard's steel-clad leather boots as he is pushed back a whole yard. His shield is still vibrating, but there is no visible damage to the shield itself and he is still standing, so that's a definite plus.

  “Solid construction there.” Kazzrak sm
iles, twirling the hammer again before offering it back to Halvard as if it weighed nothing at all. “Who made it?”

  Standing up straight, then accepting his weapon back with a bow, Halvard replies, “I made all my gear myself. Our clan believes that if we want something, we must either make it or purchase it ourselves. I bow before your superior strength. I am sure that you rival if not surpass my father in strength.”

  “My god, lad!” exclaims Faland, a stunned expression on his face. “How are you that strong?!”

  “That is good to know, Halvard. Maybe I'll challenge him to a feat of strength. I'm sure I'll get a good show out of it.” Kazzrak grins, acknowledging the compliment and winking at the artisan blacksmith.

  “Now that we have concluded measuring ourselves, could we get on with the business at hand?” Ifalna says with a roll of her eyes.

  “Right, back to the matters at hand,” I cut in. “We have completed the gathering quests you have all asked of us. We would like to hand in our materials now, is that alright?”

  “Already? It hasn't been that long though. You shouldn't have been able to mine that much ore let alone smelt it all and get all the gems. That's not even mentioning how many beasts you would have to kill to get that much leather,” snorts Artisan Pottle.

  “Would you care to make a wager on that?” asks Ifalna slyly.

  “There is no way you have been able to complete it,” Artisan Pottle insists with his nose turned up.

  “What would you wager if you would be wrong?” Ifalna again asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “We will wager the materials necessary for you all to level your professions,” agrees Faland with a scoff. “But if you are lying, then you will have to give us the same amount again, free of charge.”

  I laugh then; I couldn't help but let it out. I worked it out before, with the height of us Mining and the god buff, we were able to pummel through around 177.3 ores each in a single hour.

  With the length of time we were at it, not only do we have an obscene amount more than necessary, but the wager doesn't really mean anything. That is, if you consider everything gathered for the completion of quests in exchange for experience from the game goes directly to the village treasury.

  They aren't owned by the individuals, but by the village as a whole, and who owns the village? The lords and lady. Hence why it's funny they are going around in circles.

  I won't ruin their fun though, not if their silly wager doesn't harm anything.

  “We accept,” Ezekial says, with a frown towards my still-chuckling self.

  “Well then, show or pay.” Faland smiles wide, crossing his beefy nymph arms over his chest.

  Without further ado, I give the go-ahead and can’t help but add, “No sense in holding anything back. We may as well get the most experience possible.”

  With murmurs of agreement, we begin to remove all the different gathering bags we have that are full. Even the goblins and the kobolds remove all their own bags with an unspoken agreement to contribute.

  When everyone has finished, we stand back and watch as Artisan Pottle moves forward with a severely twitching eye as he touches the pile of bags. Thankfully the game’s AI counts and sorts it all out, so Artisan Pottle is given a total amount without having to calculate it all himself.

  Looking very unsteady on his feet and his eyes beginning to roll back into his head, a bright light splashes down on Artisan Pottle a few times before he is able to get a handle on himself.

  “Well, how much is there?” asks Faland gruffly, squinting at the dizzy enchanter.

  “Well, um, uh, you see,” stammers Artisan Pottle, his eyes now glued to the numbers only he can see. “They have quite surpassed our expectations. Probably had something to do with Gaea's buff as well, now that I think about it.”

  “How much?!” Faland growls.

  Glancing back at Faland, he replies unsteadily, “There are 31,200 various ores and bars. Oh my, there is so much truesilver and mithril. There is also a total of 1,500 gems of various rarity, 707 leather skins, and 800 herbs of various rarity.”

  “How much?” Faland whispers weakly, a sure as sight different tone than he had a second ago.

  Quest Completed: Clear the way I.

  Rarity: Normal.

  Details: The Artisans of the nymph village required you to protect the Miners and gather certain materials used in their professions. You and your group have gone above and beyond, handing in an unprecedented amount. Your rewards have not been altered from what is normally given per singular item handed in.

  Reward: 25,500 XP.

  Reward: A single item from each Artisan's personal stores.

  Additional Reward: Unlimited free use of the materials to level up professions.

  Additional Reward: 1,384,210 XP. (So much ore!)

  Congratulations! Your familiar is now level 27.

  Your abilities have been updated.

  All around me, everyone is dropping like flies trapped in a room with a bug bomb. The entire raid except us players are now lying in heaped piles. Even our familiars are out cold. The weird thing is that everyone's health bars are showing full.

  We are just standing there, dumbstruck, along with the other profession trainers until Ezekial enlightens us.

  “I get it, this is what happens when someone gains too many levels at once. Their brain goes into pleasure meltdown,” he clarifies. “Did you notice their levels?”

  Looking closer, I see that he is indeed quite right.

  Holy shit balls.

  The kobolds are now all level 26, a jump from their level 11 before. Our familiars are all level 27 now, gaining an extra 10 levels, and everyone else is now the same level as us, level 28. No wonder they conked it. I distinctly remember something similar whilst naked on a forest floor not that long ago.

  “No helping it, really. Nothing we can do for them anyway,” Dosan says quietly, playing with the constant flames from his bloodfire elemental familiar.

  “Agreed,” says Kazzrak, kneeling down and petting his crocodile-sized salamander gently.

  Ifalna is cradling Sorrel's unconscious form in both hands, while Ezekial is sitting on the ground and running his hands along the ground through his shadow Adelram.

  That's how he pets Adelram? So weird.

  Sitting down, I lean against Grace and gently rub her neck. She is now the size of a horse and lying on the ground, all peaceful. Gazing down at her, I realise how lucky I am and that she really is a beautiful dragon.

  Without going all mushy, that is.

  “What do we do now?” asks a wide-eyed Artisan Pottle.

  Dosan looks up at him with a funny expression. “I would have thought that was obvious. Cart all those materials up to your storehouses and get cracking spewing out gear for everyone here along with the other thousand plus vassals in the Glade.”

  Faland snaps out of his indecision and grabs Artisan Pottle by the ear, as he was trying to back away from actually doing some work.

  “Not getting out of it that easily this time.” He thrusts Artisan Pottle into the pile of bags then bellows to the surrounding nymphs, who are just lazing about, not knowing what to do with themselves. “Get all your arses upstairs and lug these bags up there with you. New rule, no one will be doing anything except crafting, sleeping, eating and shitting till we have outfitted everyone in gear from these materials. Move!”

  If there is one thing Faland is good at, it's Blacksmithing. And a second thing he is good at is making people hop to his commands when something needs to be done. The pile of bags in the middle quickly disappears with nymphs grabbing a few and heading to the lifts.

  As Faland is leaving, I call out to him, “Hey, Faland! We will need all our bags back once you have finished removing the materials.”

  Without turning around, Faland waves. “That's fine. I'll send some apprentices down with them in a few minutes. The gear we promised you will be ready tomorrow, so don't bother us until then.”

  With that, he di
sappears up into the massive tree on a lift. A few minutes later a couple of nymphs come down a lift and ask us which bags belong to whom. We sort that out quickly and then just sit around waiting for everyone to awaken.

  Not much we can do otherwise.

  Wait, bugger that.

  Getting up, I call over a group of nymphs just returning from gathering. “You all have a new job. One of you run up the lift and go get enough people to bring everyone here up top. The rest of you, pick up your fellow nymphs and bring them upstairs.”

  With one final pat, I dismiss Grace. She will probably recover quicker there anyway. The others dismiss their familiars too.

  “Kazzrak, do you need a hand with Halvard, or do you need someone else?” I ask, looking at the size difference between the two.

  “I should be good. He won't mind being dragged a bit, I'm sure of it,” Kazzrak replies with a grin. Picking up Halvard's arms and placing them over his shoulders, he starts dragging him to the lifts.

  Picking up a random felorian female near me, I hoist her in a fireman's carry and make my way to the lifts to set her down in one before returning for the next.

  With more help arriving, we are able to clear everyone within fifteen minutes, utilising all the lifts and having a couple of teams up top to take them off. We find space for everyone, and when it still looks like nothing is going to happen for a while, we make the general consensus to log out and relax for a bit with food and another workout.

  When we walk into the inn, there is an elderly lady nymph behind the counter today. When I try to give her money for the room, I am refused point blank.

  She looks at me with a squint and a smile, which is very disconcerting, before telling me in no uncertain terms, “We will not charge our lords and lady for the rooms here. We aren't that disrespectful. Don't offer again. Fresh linen is already down, so off with you.”

  Clearly being dismissed, we make a hasty retreat to our personal rooms, and when alone, I gaze down at my hands and for a moment just stare at the glowing lines that look like swirling runes.