Drake's LitRPG Megabundle (7 Books)

by Adam Drake

  The dreamy landscape shifted with the fog's caresses, but Rob couldn't see anything other than contorted trees and vegetation. Did the dog he killed have a mate that was searching for it?

  Another bark, this one closer. Then, a hint of movement deep within the contours of the fog.

  His heart pounded in his throat. It looked like another dog, but he didn't want to just sit around and confirm it. As quick as he could, he moved to hide behind the other side of the tree.

  More barking, mixed with a strange yipping noise. To Rob's ears, it sounded like more than one. A lot more.

  He glanced around. There were other trees several paces away, but moving to them would risk exposure. He was stuck there.

  Pressing his body against the tree, he inched an eye around its trunk. But then he heard the padding of feet and the movement of vegetation. They were coming this way!

  Rob spun around and put his back to the trunk. The bark of the tree formed a natural hollow, and he pressed himself into it. He held his sword down by his right leg, ready to be used.

  The next instant a Bog Dog ran by the tree to his left. Rob held his breath.

  The animal hadn't noticed him and continued on without changing its gait to disappear into the thick fog.

  Then another dog appeared. It stopped a few paces away, its strange mossy fur dragging along the ground. The creature sniffed at the air, looking for a trail.

  Rob's trail.

  It lifted its head, ears perked and stared off into the fog, away from Rob.

  Eyes wide with apprehension, Rob watched the thing with growing dread. It could smell him. He knew it. Any second now it would turn and see him, then warn the others.

  He tightened the grip on his sword. If he lunged out now, he might catch it off guard and kill it. But it was too far for an easy attack. Several paces at least. It would hear him and then it would be too late. But he had to do something.

  Suddenly, a trio of dogs trotted by him on the right. Rob tried not to gasp in surprise. Then, with mounting horror, he watched them cross in front of him, only several paces away, and over to the other dog.

  They sniffed at each other, but none looked in his direction. Then, with much yipping and barking, the four of them ran off into the fog, together.

  Rob counted to three, then exhaled. Five of them, he thought in disbelief. Were they a pack? Had he killed one of its members and now they hunted for him?

  Great, he thought, grimacing with pain as he shifted his wounded leg. Things have gone from bad to worse.

  Another dog appeared, this one on the left. Rob froze, the feeling of panic returning. But the thing didn't slow its pace and charged off. Then another appeared, and another.

  Then a group of six popped out on the right side, walking closely together. They, too, continued off into the fog.

  Then more came, from both sides. Traveling in pairs or small groups, but always more of them, a stampede.

  As they passed by, none looked back in his direction. Their focus was some destination further ahead.

  They all yipped and barked and growled.

  Some petrified part of Rob's mind kept count of them, but stopped when the number zipped past a hundred. And still more ran by.

  Mother of God, he thought. How many of these bastards are there? Were they all after him?

  Then a notification appeared.

  You have learned a new skill: Stealth.

  Advancement in this skill will allow the user to sneak past enemies and hide to avoid detection.

  Annoyed, Rob willed the notification away.

  If even one of the dogs glanced in the direction of his hiding place, he was dead. He would be eaten alive, ripped apart by a hundred diseased mouths.

  Eventually, the horrifying procession petered out to a few stragglers. Then, much to Rob's relief, it was quiet again.

  He sagged against the tree. Holy shit. That was intense.

  How could so many of those things live out here? The valley wasn't big enough to support so many predators, was it?

  And why the hell didn't Saif or Jace warn him about the army of diseased dogs running around?

  The pain in his leg throbbed, and he reluctantly checked his hit points.

  45/100 Hit Points.

  Guess we're going for the top of the 200 damage range, then, he thought. He needed to keep moving. Avoiding both the direction the dogs came from, and were running to, he chose what he thought was southwest.

  Mindful of any stragglers, Rob eased around the tree.

  A dog was there.

  Rob froze. The animal was standing right next to the tree, but it was looking off to the side, away from him.

  Before he could register what was happening, the dog lifted a hind leg and started to urinated on the tree.

  Mortified, Rob watched as the animal pissed on the tree and his exposed leg. But it hadn't noticed him as he was positioned a little behind it.

  Just wait it out! The thing will finish and be on its way.

  Then the dog shifted a little, and the stream of urine arced over to hit the sword blade at his side.

  The wet pattering sound changed to one more metallic. It was subtle, but enough to cause the dog to angle its ears back, and then turn its head.

  But Rob was already moving. Without any time to swing the sword upwards for a downward attack, he kept the blade low and lunged it forward.

  The blade caught the animal in the side of the throat, by its jaw.

  With a short surprised yip, the blade jabbed up into its skull. Much to Rob's relief, the creature quietly sagged to the ground, dead.

  He looked around, searching the fog for any signs he'd been heard. When several moments passed without a horde of Bog Dogs charging out at him, he relaxed.

  Again, he poked at the animal's corpse, looking for a loot drop. He found a wad of what appeared to be twine beneath it and carefully picked it up.

  You have taken an item: Swamp Moss

  This can be used as an ingredient for various low level potions.

  Value: 1 silver piece.

  Potions? Rob thought.

  You have learned a new skill: Basic Alchemy

  This grants the ability to brew and mix ingredients into potions using known recipes. Requires Basic Alchemy Kit.

  “Huh,” Rob said, stuffing the Swamp Moss into a bag. Another item that was currently useless to him. But if he got out of this mess, maybe concentrating on his Alchemy skill will let him make Healing Potions. He was in a never ending need of them.

  Not wanting to wait around any longer, he moved off. His plan was to simply avoid encountering the dogs and getting out of this swamp. If he could figure which direction was west, he'd eventually end up at the road.

  Wary of other stragglers, Rob limped through the fog. Eventually, the terrain became more varied and rocky. As a small mercy, the fog thinned out into a lingering mist, but still kept him from getting a clear view of anything more than a dozen paces away. If he could find a break in the trees, maybe he could spot the Eastern Mountains. At least then he'd have a general idea which direction to go.

  He marched onward, the throbbing pain in his leg getting worse. A cold sweat broke out over his forehead and he started to shiver. He'd never felt this sick before in his life. It was like suffering from the flu, but a hundred times worse.

  His wounded leg began to stiffen up, and his limp worsened.

  You're really in it deep now, Robbie-boy, he thought. He blinked sweat away from his eyes and tried to focus on taking the next step.

  From the fog ahead, emerged a strange boulder. When he got closer, he could see that it was a carved stone block, not that much different from the ones sitting at the base of Castle Hill.

  It was heavily weathered and covered with lichen. As he moved on, he saw more of them. Some even formed broken walls. An ancient building had been here at some point, but now was in ruins.

  Suddenly, his vision tilted, and he swayed about. He came upon a short set of wide stairs
in the mud next to a pile of blocks. Needing to rest, he perched on the nearest block and checked his wound.

  It hadn't improved, not that he expected it to. Without healing soon he was doomed.

  He was incredibly tired, the disease sapping at his strength with every step. All he wanted to do was lie down and close his eyes for a little while. What would be the harm in that? Just a few minutes of sleep and he'd be on his way again.

  His eyes drooped and his head bobbed.

  Almost falling over, he managed to catch himself against the blocks. He shook his head, trying to stay awake.

  He couldn't fall asleep. That would be the end of everything. Just a corpse for the Bog Dogs to find.

  In the distance, the fog parted revealing a marshy field. Far on the other side was a tower. A single window at its top winked with a glowing light.

  Rob blinked in surprise at the sudden appearance of the structure. Did the light mean someone was home? Maybe they could help him.

  Groggy, he pushed himself off the block and moved tentatively down the first step.

  His mind reeled about, like the fever was cooking his brain. Light means fire. Fire means people. People means help. And he needed help.

  Then something happened. A feeling, cold and bracing, coursed through his body. He stopped, confused. It was like a primitive instinct kicking in to warn him of danger. A close danger.

  He looked across the field to the tower.

  The fog cleared more and revealed a vast gray apron spread out at its base. Like the canopies put up for a circus, or a county fair. Only these were stringy and splayed out in a half-hazard fashion.

  A terrifying realization sobered him up on the spot.

  It looked like webbing.

  As if to reinforce that nightmarish observation, a huge section of the webbing moved, and something slowly emerged.

  A spider.

  Rob gasped. The thing was colossal. As big as a damn army tank!

  The monstrosity stopped and Rob could see its mandibles moving together, perhaps in agitation. A large cluster of orbs were perched above its massive fangs. Eyes.

  Creature: Goliath Tarantula (Elite)

  Hit Points: 3,800, Mana: 100

  Armor: 20, Speed: 15

  Abilities: Unknown

  Rob found himself shivering, but not from the fever. The size of the thing was beyond comprehension! And 3,800 hit points! How could you even hope to kill something like that?

  Rob found he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the tower any more. He'd happily go crawl off into the fog and die if it meant he didn't have to feel those huge fangs ripping into his guts, injecting him with venom.

  Fighting through his paralysis, Rob slowly eased back up the step.

  Something in the field before him moved.

  Two dozen paces away, a mound of swamp grass stood up.

  Rob tore his gaze from the monster spider to this new threat. It was humanoid and completely enveloped in swamp grass. Thick arms and legs emerged from its body and Rob realized that it was moving slowly toward him, dragging its feet.

  Creature: Shambler

  Hit Points: 75, Mana: 10

  Armor: 5, Speed: 5

  Abilities: Unknown

  The grass monster took another shambling step forward. Then three others stood up in the marshy field. Then three more. Each started to move. Far behind them, the Goliath Tarantula sat in its web, as if watching.

  Oh, crap, Rob thought. His fevered brain told him to draw his sword, so he did and dropped it.

  As he teetered about trying to pick it up a voice shouted from behind him, deep and booming.

  “What in the Many Hells are you bloody well doing?!”

  Sword in hand, Rob turned to look.

  A man stood on a stone block, a dozen paces behind him. He was covered in a deep green hooded cloak and wore leather armor of the same shade. A series of pouches and bags hung from his belt. Dagger hilts stuck out of the sides of his calf-high boots, like talons. A long curved sword hung from his hip, the blade bare. In his gnarled hands he held a long bow with an arrow nocked and ready.

  His face was weathered, making him look old. A dark bushy moustache hung down over his upper lip. His eyes were a bright green, and they stared at Rob in confusion.

  “What's that?” Rob said, conversationally. For a moment his vision blurred and there were three men.

  The man's gaze shifted to the wound on Rob's leg. “Blight the stars, you done got bit!” He said, then shot an arrow over Rob's shoulder.

  It struck the nearest shambler right in the head, and the creature collapsed back into a heap of grass. More were coming and getting closer.

  “Get yourself back, lad, if you know what's good for ya!” The man shouted, shooting again.

  Rob moved in his direction, but found his legs would no longer cooperate and fell to his knees. Pain ruptured his fevered dream, and he cried out.

  The man fired three more arrows in rapid succession, then ran to Rob. “Can you walk, lad?”

  Rob looked up, face sheened with sweat. “Walk where?”

  Grumbling curses the man shot more arrows, but Rob was too tired to look and see what he was aiming at. He just wanted to sleep.

  The man placed a hand against the wound on Rob's thigh and chanted a series of words.

  A tingling sensation blossomed in his leg and coursed through his body. His vision no longer tilted, but the pain still remained.

  Firing another shot the man said, “Won't fix you, but it will keep you from crossing over!” Another shot, then another. “Can you move, lad?”

  With the man's help, Rob stood awkwardly with the coordination of a newborn colt. After another arrow volley the man gave Rob a quick once over. “Nope. Not enough. Hold on, lad. We're going to move quick.”

  The man crouched down and let Rob fall over on his shoulder, then stood.

  “Fireman's carry”, Rob said, his words slurring. “This isn't the way to carry a king.”

  “No time for chit-chat!” The man shouted, then he cursed and Rob felt him suddenly hack at a nearby attacker. Then the man spun around and ran, Rob bouncing on his shoulder.

  Looking back, Rob could see dozens of shamblers all over the staircase and emerging from the surrounding fog.

  “That's a lot of them,” he said, grunting with each step.

  “More where that come from which is why we need to hide!” The man said. They were moving within a series of ruins, weathered blocks everywhere.

  The man suddenly stopped in surprise and shot several more arrows. Then he moved again.

  Suddenly, Rob found himself in a little room made of stone blocks. The man dumped him to the ground unceremoniously, making him shout out in pain.

  “Sorry!” the man said, turning to a small open entrance and leaned his bow against a wall. “No time!” He jammed a hand into one of his pouches and grumbled to himself. “Where is it? Where did I put it? Green or yellow? Blast the stars for the fool I am!”

  As the man rummaged, Rob could see shamblers through the doorway. They moved with a slow but steady purpose toward him. There were more than Rob could count and that was only what he could see through the narrow opening, the only way in.

  “Aha!” the man said and pulled out a baseball sized stone.

  The shamblers were now at the entrance, reaching forward with arms made of dangling grass.

  The man slammed his stone against the wall next to the entrance. Immediately, the rock around the entrance grew inward like a sealant, shrinking the open space.

  “Come on!” The man said, curved blade in hand.

  Just as the entrance closed up like a rocky orifice, a shambler jammed its arm inside. The man sliced at it with his sword.

  The arm dissolved into long blades of grass which fell to the floor in a pile. The stone closed up, forming a wall. With the entrance as the only source of light, the room went dark.

  Rob heard the man utter a few words, and even through his feverish haze, he
recognized them.

  A Light spell.

  The room brightened, but Rob no longer cared. He closed his eyes and slipped off a moss covered cliff. Falling and falling.

  And he never landed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rob woke with a start.

  He found himself laying on a thick blanket on the floor of the little stone room, its closed in walls reminding him of a forgotten cellar of an old house.