by R W Foster
Into the Realm:
The Chronicles of Carter Blake,
Book I
R.w.Foster
Copyright
Copyright © 2014 by R.w.Foster
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover art created by Jun Ares from an image by Johann Jaritz.
Dedicated to
Valerie Cline
Without you, this book would never have begun.
&
Jennifer Kemp
Without you, this book would not be completed.
Chapter 1
1
From what I understand, there are six levels of fatness: “Big,” “Healthy,” “Husky,” “Fluffy”, “Damn!,” and “Uh-uh!” The difference between “Damn!” and “Uh-uh!” is you are still willing to work with “Damn!” If a “Damn!” approaches you on a crowded elevator, you will look around, and let him on. On the other hand, if an “Uh-uh!” approaches you on a crowded elevator, you hold up your hand, while pushing the close door button fast, and say, “Uh-uh!” I got this from Gabriel Iglesias on Comedy Central. The routine popped into my head when I caught sight of Lucas Rumpff, and I laughed out loud. He glanced over at me, shook his head, readjusted his glasses and started into the library. Dressed in blue jeans and a green and black Hawaiian shirt, Lucas was around my height and maybe three times my girth. He had long, thick brown hair which flowed down to his shoulders. A beat up red laptop bag hung over his right shoulder. He’s in a few of my classes, but I never spoke to him before. As far as I knew, he was a loner. I wondered if he preferred to be alone, or was lonely. I soon would find out, because Anderson, the Game Creator of my weekend BattleHammer game said we needed another player to “enliven it.”
I opened the large wooden door of the library and walked in. It was like going back in time. Actual chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. The blonde librarian had an antique Remington typewriter and dressed like a bobbysoxer. Arc sodium wall lamps cast a warm orange glow, stuffed leather armchairs welcomed patrons into the reading room, and ashtrays were scattered here and there, resting next to, and on, the furniture like somnolent cats. I have no idea how the place got away with smoking paraphernalia after the way the media and government demonized tobacco.
I walked amongst the towering bookshelves, their aisles shadowed and sinister. I found Lucas debating between A Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein and Cobra by Timothy Zahn. His laptop bag sat on the floor at his feet like an obedient dog.
He glanced over at me. “Are you stalking me?”
I laughed. “No way, man. My name is Carter Blake. I’m in Professor Rosenthal’s Renormalization class with you.”
His brow wrinkled, as if he was trying to place me. “Carter Blake? Oh, yeah. The boy genius. Didn’t you manage to build a working cold fission prototype?”
“Something like that.”
“Interesting.” His tone said otherwise. “What do you want?”
“Do you play BattleHammer?”
“Not really. Why?”
“My Game Creator says to get some more people. I thought of you because you’re always reading sci-fi and fantasy books.”
“Sounds fun, but I know next to nothing about it.”
“I can teach you how to play on the way over to the game. We have an all weekend thing scheduled. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
He looked back down at the books.
“I’d go for the Zahn book; I didn’t enjoy the Heinlein one. My advice: get both of them and then choose.”
“With my schedule, I will only have time for one. By the way, my name is Lucas Rumpff.”
We shook hands, and he returned Stranger. I walked with him over to the librarian’s desk and waited while she stamped the card with the due date, wrote out his card number, and the title of the book in a thick leather ledger. We walked out into the spring sunshine together to North Wolf Street. A crowd of lacrosse players swaggered by. The captain of the team, who I tutored in chemistry on Tuesday evenings, shouted over at us.
“Hey, Blake! Who’s your new girlfriend?”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Stevenson!” I yelled back. “I’ll still let you fellate me!”
The jocks stopped.
“What the fuck did you say, Blake?” Stevenson said.
“Settle down,” I commanded. “Tuesday evening, seven pm, Chem 101. Don’t forget.”
The reminder deflated his anger, and he waved for his teammates to follow him. Lucas and I trotted down the library steps and walked down the sidewalk.
“You shouldn’t taunt Stevenson like that, Carter. He’ll mess you up.”
“He doesn’t dare,” I said, feigning a confidence I didn’t really feel. I didn’t understand why I said that. Broderick Stevenson could kill me. “He recognizes I’ll make sure he fails Chemistry if he does anything stupid. A grade flop and he’s off the team. Bye-bye scholarship.”
“How?”
“He trusts me to teach him the subject.”
“Oh.”
We walked down Wolf Street in silence for a block, and then I remembered I had promised to teach Lucas about the game. “So, about the game of BattleHammer; like Dungeons and Dragons, it uses a D20 system. Have you heard of the structure?”
“Yes.”
“Right. So, to do anything that requires effort in world, you roll a D20, add the relevant modifiers and compare that to a Difficulty Class. Beating the DC means you succeed; missing it means failure. Understand?”
“Yep. I’m with you, Carter.”
“Alright, for playing, that’s about all you need to know upfront. If anything else comes up, we’ll fill you in as needed.”
“Okay.”
We paused to wait for the signal at North Avenue, and then crossed. We had to hurry a bit because the warning light began to flash when we were about halfway across the busy street.
“The next step is to fill you in on the world and major characters, and then I’ll tell you about your character’s future teammates. We’ll begin with the gods. There are a whole hell of a lot of them, so I’ll tell you about those our party has had dealings with. First up is Kellün, the god of the elves and woodlands. He has many allies and enemies, but the main ones we are dealing with are Morgrid the Soul-forger and Lucien, the Demon King. Morgrid is the chief Dwarf divine being as well as being the one of the Forge. Lucien is self-explanatory. Unlike D&D, which separates fiends into two groups, BattleHammer says all pure evil beings are demons. Another deity I’m sure will pop up in the story is the father of the gods, Chokkan. Are you still with me, Lucas?”
He waited until we’d scampered across Federal Street before he answered.
“So far.”
“Good.” I panted. I glanced over at Lucas, who wasn’t even breathing hard. I was a bit envious. “Next are the major players of our game, otherwise known as our characters and the bad guys. My character is a dwarf warrior named Drago the Clanless. His clan was wiped out by the main bad guy who I’ll tell you about soon. Drago vowed revenge. His allies are as follows: Luwaxana, a female elven ranger, controlled by Mike Reynolds; Shauna the Deft, a human thief, controlled by Megan Anderson, the GC’s older sister; and Ox Silverfist, a half-dragon/half-troll Warpriest of Kellün, controlled by Stacy Meers.”
“Wow, a half-dragon/half-troll? That sounds like fun,” Lucas said, as we crossed East Oliver. Since the street was pretty dead, we didn’t bother checking for traffic.
“Does it? Just so you are aware - and I should have mentioned this before - in addition to the half-bloods,
humans, dwarves and elves, you could also be a Leviathan, a Deepling, or a Gnome,” I said, kicking an empty Pepsi can.
“Did you say a Ga-nome?”
“I did. In the world of BattleHammer, that is how they pronounce the name of their race.”
Lucas chuckled. “What are Deeplings?”
We stopped at the corner of Biddle Street and looked for oncoming cars. The day grew dimmer as a cloud scudded past the sun. “They are a race of underground fairies, similar to leprechauns. They average about four feet tall and are between thirty and fifty pounds. Due to this stature, folks who haven’t encountered them before tend to mistake them for human children. They’re long-lived like elves and dwarves and reproduce about twice every seventy years. Deeplings are innate spell casters, and as such, they begin with a free level as a mage.”
“Cool. What about the Gnomes?” Lucas chuckled again at the pronunciation of the name.
By this time, we were near Patterson Park in East Baltimore. We walked up a pretty steep hill. Lucas took the tor with the same ease that he’d taken our swift hike from the library. I tell you, I still have no idea how he managed to set such a rapid pace and not end up winded like me. My face was hot, skin greasy from sweat, and I panted like a dog.
“They’re another race of midgets.” I gasped for air at the top of the hill, and motioned for him to stop so I could catch my breath. While he waited, cool and relaxed, I leaned over with hands on knees and tried to swallow my lungs again. After about ten minutes, I resumed. “Gnomes average about three feet in height with the women being taller and stronger. The males are smarter and more agile for the most part. They are natural pickpockets and rogues in general, and they start with a free level of thief.”
Twenty minutes later, we arrived in Anderson’s neighborhood. It was a pretty affluent section of East Baltimore, not far from Patterson Park. His folks owned a townhouse that was about twice as big as my mom’s row house. We walked up to the wide mahogany door and went in.
2
Keith Anderson stood an inch taller than me, yet I had twenty-seven kilos on him. He had brown eyes, short, reddish-brown hair, and favored outfits of black t-shirt and jeans. The guy almost vibrated with energy and could be a lot of fun. Anderson’s also a huge fan of BattleHammer and Japanese culture which was why I called him only by his last name.
He sat in his favorite place, a leather recliner near the hearth, when Lucas and I entered the white decorated living room. I once asked if he had Goth aspirations. His reply? “Nope. I’m lazy and with a closet full of dark clothes, I don’t have to worry about making sure anything matches.” When he didn’t look up to greet us, I decided to needle him a bit.
“Hey, Mister Edward Cullen, how are you doing?”
Without looking up, he retaliated, “If you ever call me a sparkle fairy again, I’ll eliminate every character you create from now ‘til Judgment Day.”
“By all the hells,” I chuckled. “That’s pretty harsh for an emo guy.”
A glare directed at me. “Fuck you, Carter.”
I laughed again. “This is Lucas Rumpff. Has anyone else arrived?”
Anderson held out his hand and shook Lucas’. “Nope. You two are the leading arrivals.”
Just then, Megan walked into the room causing Lucas to goggle. I’d had the same reaction when I first saw her, but I had gotten used to her and was focused on the classmate I tutored. Megan was a petite, 157.48 cm. cheerleader for the Johns-Hopkins Blue Jays.
She wore her long brown hair in a braid that went over her right shoulder. Her dark chocolate eyes sparkled with delight when she spotted me. I was one of her “most favorite people,” as she put it, because I always teamed up with her against her brother in water battles. She was wearing her cheer outfit: a short skirt, halter top and sneakers, all in the school colors of Columbia blue and black.
“Hey, Carter,” she chirruped in her tiny voice. “How are you?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Eager to play BattleHammer. Who’s the new guy?”
“This is Lucas Rumpff. Lucas, put your eyes back in your head and greet the lady.”
He swallowed hard and mumbled a greeting. Megan smiled at him and went into the dining room where we’d be playing with a swirl of skirt and a quick flash of spankers. A few minutes later, Mike and Stacy walked in holding hands. Mike Reynolds appeared to be the identical twin of actor Jensen Ackles. He had the same brown hair, blue eyes and short, stocky stature. Because he’d grown tired of being confused for the guy, Mike dyed his hair black, and wore contacts to make his eyes appear blood red. His girlfriend was a fluffy young woman of 167.64 cm. Her mane was the color of Mike’s original hair, and she possessed golden brown eyes.
I made introductions all around, and we headed in to the dining room. Much to Lucas’ chagrin, and my amusement, Megan was the first to offer to help him create his character. The poor guy couldn’t seem to get his tongue to work right when she was sitting next to him. The others watched for a few minutes while Megan tried to get Lucas to speak to her. At last, her brother spoke up.
“For Christ’s sake, Megan. Move away from the poor bastard. Can’t you tell he’s too attracted to you to talk?”
That flustered both of them. Lucas turned brick red, and Megan stormed from the room. Stacy went to Lucas’ side and, after several minutes of chatting with him in a low voice, got the guy to begin creating his character. I stared at Anderson for a few seconds, shook my head at his decision to be an asshole, and then went to talk with Megan. When Anderson pissed her off like this, only their mom, dad and I could get her to speaking with him again. Once, their parents decided to let the siblings work things out on their own, but, gave in and mediated after a month of Megan and Anderson communicating through intermediaries.
I found Megan standing in the kitchen with a glass of wine, leaning against the white marble counter. She had her free arm wrapped around her middle like she was trying to keep her body together, or to protect herself from her brother’s words.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said. “I am mortified. Why does Keith have to be such an asshole?”
“I have no idea, Keebles. I think it’s a control issue.”
She smiled at the nickname I had given her as I knew she would.
“So, he’s trying to regulate my behavior?” She mused.
“By all the hells, don’t be silly. He’s attempting to police the relationship forming in front of his eyes.” She peered at me. “Yes, Keebles, even I spotted the budding attraction between the two of you.”
“Nothing like this ever happened to me before. It’s like Lucas is a big, sexy and shy teddy bear I just want to hug, squeeze and cuddle up with.”
I grinned. It was an apt description. I walked over to the pantry and pulled out a package of Megan’s favorite cookies, Keebler Elf’s. I offered them to her.
“Munch on these, and ignore Keith. After the game, if Lucas hasn’t asked you out, ask him.”
She giggled. “You’re a smart man, Carter. I’m glad you’re friends with my little brother.”
“Oh, we’re not friends?”
She opened her mouth to protest and took a good look at me: I had crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her. She laughed again and tossed a cookie at me. I uncrossed them and, more by luck than skill, caught the snack with one hand. I crowed about the accomplishment and we left the kitchen laughing. Mike was deep in conversation with Anderson and Lucas was putting the finishing touches on his character. Mike glanced up, saw we were in the room and pushed Anderson towards us. Her brother walked over and spoke to Megan as I sauntered over to check out the new party member.
The dining room grew dimmer as the sun sank behind the houses. Anderson closed the curtains while Megan and I lit the candles, to “establish the mood” as Anderson put it. He tended to be impatient with natural light: it was either too bright, too dim, not where he wanted it, or a host of other things. I think he was a b
it of a control freak. After he finished setting things up to his liking, he clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alrighty, folks, gather around and let’s get this started, eh?”
We took our seats at the table with me making sure Megan sat next to Lucas. We put our miniatures on the battle grid Anderson placed before us. He put a couple buildings up.
“Alright. Recap: Last time, you guys wiped out a bunch of the Rakshasha wizard Mordecai’s lieutenants, killed one of his generals and brought down one of his towers. Shall we run down why your band of heroes is trying to stop him for Lucas? Let’s start with the party leader. Mike?”
Mike folded his arms across the back of the chair which he’d spun backwards to the table. “I play Luwaxana, an elf ranger, who wants revenge for Mordecai using the people of her village to construct a philosopher’s stone.”
Lucas pushed his glasses up on his nose, showing his neat finger nails in the process. “So he enslaved them?”
“They were the main ingredient.”
“Damn. That’s twisted.”
“That’s not the most fucked up event,” Anderson said. “Megan?”
She smiled at Lucas. “When you view my character, Shauna the Deft, one of the first things you’ll notice is her clockwork hands. After doing a job for Mordecai, he rewarded her by cutting her real ones off and leaving her to die. She wants to return the favor.”
“That was cruel,” said Lucas.
“Heh. Wait ‘til you hear from Stacy,” Anderson said.
Stacy put her leg on Mike’s lap. “I am Ox Silverfist. I’m an experiment of Mordecai’s. He wanted to find out what would happen if he fused a red dragon with a troll. After he grew bored with me, Mordecai tossed me to the side. I was abandoned by the side of a road and left to starve. Luwaxana and Shauna found me on their way to the Utterdark to seek aid from the dwarves for an exploration to the Stygian Trench on a treasure hunt. We never got there because of what we found.”