Trojan: An Epic LitRPG Adventure (Afterlife Online Book 3)

by Domino Finn

  Together, we were powerful, but Stronghold wasn't the only unified force out there. We had to get better at this, and fast, because the stakes kept getting higher.

  With the conflict ended, the last surviving Black Hats returned home. Oldtown was more ruinous than ever. After everyone had died, it was also depressingly empty. My heart hurt to look at it. Everything we'd built over the last month. Bodies still littered the streets, ashes mixed with blood in a hellish nightmare of destruction. Our shiny guildhall that was supposed to have its grand opening tonight wasn't so shiny. The other structures had fared worse. The barracks, completely destroyed. The brothel was in bad shape. Thankfully, Trafford's last stand had held it up. That saved the hassle of a lot of faction mates respawning elsewhere. A guild needed a heart for members to regroup and lick their wounds. Ours just happened to abound with bouncing boobs and wagging dongs.

  "I need to check on Bravo Team," said Lash. "Crux should be in there." A grim expression overcame her. "Hex is still missing."

  "We'll get her back," said Izzy.

  I nodded with heartfelt determination. "And Grimwart and whoever else has fallen victim to Hadrian's plans. We'll get everything back to normal."

  Lash clenched her jaw. She agreed with the sentiment but stopped short of inheriting our optimism.

  I swallowed uncomfortably. She was ready to leave but stalled as I prepared to speak. "Lash... I know I've been tough on you lately." I licked my lips. "I know we don't always agree on the best course of action. Sometimes, you're right."

  She snorted. "No worries, boss. I say what I think and don't pull punches. I'm never gonna change that."

  "And I'd never want you to. Having someone to butt heads with keeps me honest. You've proven yourself over and over again. You risked level 10 today, multiple times, and that kind of XP is hard to come by. You'll always have a place in Oldtown."

  She snickered. "Don't get all sappy on me, Talon. We know each other well enough by this point. Been through hell and back together. 'Nuff said."

  She held out her hand and I clasped it tight. Bitch had a helluva firm shake. When she pulled away, she saluted. Her armored boots spun in the dirt and she headed into the brothel.

  "Wow," said Izzy. "Looks like you two are no longer frenemies."

  "I'm sure she's just in a sentimental mood."

  Izzy's eyes twinkled as she studied me. "Hard not to be in a moment like this."

  "And now that we're finally alone..."

  I leaned down to kiss her. Inches away, her eyes went to full alert. "You're right! What was I thinking?"

  I cocked my head.

  Izzy's eyes widened in alarm. "Look out!"

  The pixie pointed behind me. I spun around on a dime, drawing the dragonspear and readying for whatever was coming.

  A lonesome breeze wafted over the midday ruins. There was no one here. Like I'd said, we were alone. When I turned to question Izzy, she was running from corpse to corpse, salvaging faction gear and looting mobs. A step ahead of me.

  "You little..."

  I broke into a sprint and collected what I could.

  Given the makeup of the invaders, we recovered a pile of rogue gear and ocean resources. I would sort through it later and add the cream of the crop to the armory. Lots of people had fallen for this victory, and I wasn't about to gank it all for myself. Most of it was solid equipment for an army, but only a few items stood out.

  For one, the Squid's Tooth was gone. I had known as much—we'd witnessed it shatter—however, I was hoping it could still be recovered somehow. As a special boss, I wasn't sure whether the kraken would respawn. If the statue of Orik was any measure, titans could never be completely erased from Haven. The only way to guarantee safety would be to acquire the soulstone, if it still existed.

  Second was the Atlantean anchor. That bad boy was already in my inventory.

  [Atlantean Anchor]

  Ancient ship anchor for mooring to unexplored depths.

  As with the dusty saddle, the description was ineffectually vague. Given what I'd learned thus far about the afterlife, the obtuse utility signified the item was either completely worthless or a priceless artifact. I added it to my list of things to research.

  Finally, one of the shadowguards had dropped a void pearl. My whole body tensed with excitement when I imagined the possibilities. Void magic seemed to create black holes and allow shadow walking. I only hoped Kyle could slot it into Dragonperch somewhere.

  When the field of battle was finally cleared of loot, we wandered back to the tower. I checked the headquarters and faction screens to see what we still had left after it all.

  Black Hats

  Faction Level: 2

  Members: 60 / 100

  War

  Catechists

  Brothers in Black

  Armistice

  Pagans

  We hadn't lost any members, but we did pick up the burden of a new war. If we were lucky, our victory would attract wide-eyed adventurers to the cause. Regardless, it would be a bit before the faction gained enough members to level up.

  Black Hat Headquarters

  Level: 2

  HQXP: 7 / 8

  HQR: 0

  Daily HQR Production: 14

  DP: 1

  Current Buildings

  Guildhall

  Brothel

  Lumberyard

  Vault

  Destroyed

  Barracks

  The 3 headquarters experience points we were awarded for winning the battle were huge. Once we rebuilt the barracks, we'd hit level 3. That meant more HQR and more development. Unfortunately, our resources were tapped empty for the day. Besides that, every single one of our builders was on 24-hour lockdown.

  Those were fine reasons for a day off.

  Tomorrow, we'd rebuild the barracks. After that, my whole outlook on headquarters construction would change. I'd never considered the tower defense capabilities of placements before. I'd need to think more strategically about Oldtown. With a new set of builders, the sky was the limit. It almost made me envious of peace time.

  Almost.

  As we approached Dragonperch, the great door heaved open. Instead of receiving a hero's welcome, Trafford blabbed away.

  "There you are, Talon! I don't know if you're a rabbit's foot or a broken mirror, but my heart can't take this kind of heat every other week! I'm an old man. I deserve to retire."

  I chuckled and started up the winding stairs. "I thought you had a soldier's soul, Buildmaster General?"

  "No more generaling for me! I'm through with the army. Give me lumber and stone any day. Now that I have a talented crew backing me up, I'll stick to being a plain old-fashioned buildmaster, thank you very much. Beats being gutted by a mermaid!"

  As we passed the kitchen floor, we caught Errol in the middle of a seafood gumbo recipe. Completely oblivious to our presence, he belted out an original tune.

  "Old man Trafford's his name,

  An' grumpin's his cause.

  He runs a welcome shop

  That don't tolerate slack-jaws.

  They call him an old man.

  They call him a crank.

  He released tenfold oaths

  'Gainst that mermaid skank.

  When Trafford stands ground

  One truth will resound:

  Whether sober or plastered...

  He's a miserable bastard!

  A passable builder,

  A swordsman quite awful,

  But where would we be

  Without our fine brothel?

  Topless an' curvy

  With a mean set o' claws.

  Undine stabbed his heart through

  And snipped off his balls.

  When Trafford stands ground

  One truth will resound:

  Whether sober or plastered...

  He's a miserable bastard!"

  Izzy and I snorted down laughter. "No wonder you're retiring," I told Trafford. "On the bright side, you're famous now."


  "I'm too old for this shit," he grumbled. The buildmaster made a dejected U-turn and headed for the underground grotto.

  After he was out of earshot, I turned to Izzy. "Pirate ditties are surprisingly intricate."

  Her eyelashes fluttered. "I just hope there's not a verse about sexy fish parts."

  My face scrunched in disgust as she climbed ahead toward her room. "He wouldn't..." After a second's hesitation I peeked into the kitchen.

  Errol put an opened oyster shell to his lips. "Now the trick, ya see, is t' treat that pearl as gently as a flower."

  I hurried upstairs when he started making egregious sucking sounds. "Pirates..."

  I found Kyle exactly where I knew he'd be, lounging on the couch watching RoboCop. The original, of course.

  "Bro, this is hilariously amazing. Exhibit A in the case against CG blood effects. Look at that! Chunkier than Ragú."

  I stifled a reproach. Kyle wouldn't be Kyle if he took anything too seriously, even a world-ranging conspiracy to control Haven. He noticed the look on my face.

  "What?" he asked. "It's not like Hadrian the Wankerer got away. I deserve some R and R."

  I chuckled. "That you do, Kyle."

  He was so into his downtime I decided to save the news of the void pearl for later. I kicked his foot instead. He scooted over and I plopped down on the couch beside him.

  "Did you get to the part where he shoots the guy in his junk?"

  "Almost there, bro. Almost there."

  We watched the gorefest for a bit, laughing and alternating between mimicking the over-the-top deaths and RoboCop's slow walk. It was the little things in life, and apparently the afterlife, that made everything worth doing. What good was winning if there was nothing to fight for?

  "Man, I forgot what a masterpiece this is," I said. "Maybe I should play it at the grand opening of the guildhall tonight."

  Kyle paused the movie and turned to me. "Bro, the whole clan's on 24-hour lockdown, including the brewmaster, and Oldtown's a wreck. We gotta postpone the party."

  "I know. We'll do a real grand opening tomorrow night, but I wanna make an appearance today. We plastered flyers all over town. We need to show people we're reliable, prove that we mean business. After our overwhelming victory, the place will be packed with new recruits. Just you wait. All of Stronghold will be talking about us!"

  His face didn't mirror my excitement. "I suppose. It's just a bummer. Why are evil conspiracies always cramping my style? It ain't easy being a player."

  I smirked. "Don't hate the player, hate the game." His eyes narrowed. "Wait, that doesn't make sense. How about, hate the player, not the game? But not all players, of course. Only trolls. And I don't consider Haven a game anymore. It's—"

  "Bro," he cut in. "You seriously need a beer."

  "That's what I've been trying to say."

  That night, I was in the middle of my sixth fancy tankard on the unmarred bar top. I sighed at the abandoned guildhall. I knew the lockdown would prevent respawned Black Hats from attending, but I'd really thought curious town residents would at least pop in to congratulate the victors.

  Then again, it was entirely possible that partying with the Protector of Stronghold would insert oneself into the middle of an assassination attempt or, saints forbid, another titan outbreak. Then there was the goblin horde. They still skirted the tended land pounding war drums with aggravating vigor. I supposed, in the end, people didn't really feel safe straying from their usual routines tonight.

  I filled the time by absentmindedly browsing the Haven Live Feed.

  Lash marked herself safe during The Incident At Oldtown.

  I rolled my eyes. The white knight may not have been present but she was doing her own form of publicity. At least the news was spreading. Today was a day of fear and relief. The celebration and accolades would come tomorrow. I could live with that.

  My breath eased as I settled into the lonely mahogany tavern. Quiet was good. Besides, I was in good spirits over finally deciding a name for the place. After Hadrian's inexhaustible assault, the pub would be known as the Last Stand.

  The door opened and Izzy walked in. "Still here?"

  "Yes. Have a drink with me."

  She hopped up and planted her butt on the bar beside me. "I'll pass. You know I prefer my drunken debauchery in moderation. Besides, there's no one here to run the microwave. I'm saving myself for the real grand opening tomorrow."

  I leaned my arm in her lap and rubbed her thigh. "Saving yourself, huh?"

  She batted mischievous eyelashes.

  I rose to my feet and slid my tankard aside. "I suppose there's a plus side to being absolutely alone. It occurs to me the guildhall has not been officially christened."

  She looped a leg around to straddle the bar, laughing and leaning back as I climbed over her. "Not so fast, Talon. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

  "Rough and demanding." I bit her earlobe.

  She shivered under my kiss. "You got me there. But... speaking of demanding..." Izzy slid up the bar so her inner thigh brushed my cheek. Her fingers ran through my hair.

  "I guess I walked right into that one," I said with a smirk. I reached my hand up her robe and grabbed her underwear, fingers slipping against the waistband.

  Izzy craned her neck. "What are you fumbling with down there? It's not a bra strap."

  "I..." My head sagged into her crotch. "This isn't a private zone. Underwear doesn't come off here."

  She blinked several times, then dropped her head on the bar. Her whole body shuddered up and down. At first I thought she was going for a dry hump, but she broke into hysterical laughter. I couldn't help but join in.

  "So much for players being masters of their fate," she said wryly. "Isn't there something you can do about this with the developer menu?"

  The front door opened again and Izzy and I sat at attention. A familiar man stood in the doorway, looking around and obviously confused.

  My jaw dropped. "You're—"

  Izzy pinched my side.

  "A restaurant host," I finished. "Funny, we were just talking about Gordon Ramsay the other day."

  "That hack?" [Tony B] frowned at us. "What's going on here? I mean, there's bar service and then there's bar service."

  Izzy pulled her robe lower and hopped to the floor. "Nothing's happening. Come on in."

  "No reservations?"

  "Very funny."

  The newcomer entered and appraised the guildhall. "What a gyp. The flyer said there'd be Hot Pockets."

  "I'm not sure we have the culinary muscle to pull that off." I spun from the bar to the back floor. "You're a new player, right?" I poured him a beer and placed it next to mine. "How about a drink?"

  Any misgivings he had dissolved at the sight of the tankard. "Well, these may be parts unknown, but I always say 'do as the locals do.' You know, there's no better living than spending time with friends, sharing a meal, kicking back, and letting loose."

  I retook my stool and grinned from ear to ear. "Brother, you said it."

  1530 Alone in the Dark

  I followed Warden Jorah down the chiseled staircase and into the murky depths.

  It was a new day of calm in the city. While Oldtown residents were eagerly waiting out the last few hours of lockdown, I'd decided to get a jump on strategizing the faction's next course of action. Grimwart and Hex were still missing, General Azzyrk and Cleric Vagram weren't going away, and my concerns over Oakengard weren't alleviated after the destruction of Saint Loras. Which all meant it was as good a time as any to visit the Stronghold jail.

  The grounds were surprisingly large given that actual prisoners weren't commonplace in MMOs. The main jail building served as a guardhouse with minimum security rooms. There was a greater jail yard and cell building. We were now beneath that, in the dungeon. Cell after empty cell, all seemingly for nothing. I chalked it up to a canceled feature by sadistic game designers.

  The city watch wasn't taking chances. A well-armed unit of
guards monitored the building entrance. Roving patrols watched the perimeter. Underground access had a redundant gate for extra security. It was decidedly impregnable.

  Chadwick was down here, snatched by the watch from his own lockdown. I wasn't sure what would happen to him yet. It was cruel to lock a player away in the afterlife. Then again, it wasn't any different for mobs and NPCs anymore. Chadwick was a bad guy who'd opportunistically taken advantage of residents during the attack. He needed to pay for his crimes.

  Nooner, to his credit, had actually assisted in the town's defense. He'd employed his peculiar brand of hooliganism, of course, but it was more than I could say for Chadwick. So Nooner was still a free man, able to rebuild his empire in the absence of his rival. I recalled Papa Brugo's words about men like him. Give him enough rope to either control him or let him hang himself.

  At the end of the hall was a large wooden door that opened to a solitary confinement cell. It was a dark place, without a window or much room to maneuver. Hadrian, the level-7 spymaster, sat in a special chair that shackled his arms and legs in place. The extreme measures were the only way to prevent the usurper from taking his own life.

  "This is it," announced Jorah. "Prisoner one one seven, Hadrian the Whisperer. He's all yours, Protector of Stronghold."

  The man in darkness spat. "Why don't you execute me and get it over with?"

  I snorted. What could you do to the worst of the worst in an MMO? You couldn't put them to death. Bishop Tannen had used executions as a public show, but they wouldn't gain us anything here.