Blackout Series (Books 1-2)

by Adam Drake

  “Right,” Mudhoof said, nodding vigorously. “Good idea. I'll just-”.

  An arrow suddenly thunked into the side of Mudhoof's head just below a horn.

  “What the...?” he said. He grabbed the arrow and yanked it out. He looked around, angrily. “Who the hell did that?!”

  I pointed weakly upward.

  Far above, on the edge of the cliffs that encircled this little sandy patch, stood a row of archers. From what I could see, there were close to ten of them.

  “Oh, FILTERED,” said Mudhoof as he gazed up at them. “Kragg called in an army?”

  “They're not players,” I said when I tried to focus on one of them.

  “Huh?” Mudhoof said, then another arrow hit him in the back. Several others hit the surrounding sand.

  Frustrated, Mudhoof brought out a shield from his inventory. It was a black segmented shell from a huge beetle. From end to end it was almost as tall as Mudhoof.

  Braced against an arm, Mudhoof put it over us as he hunched down. A volley of arrows cracked against its surface and were deflected. None of them could even pierce it.

  “Nice,” I said, trying not to stare at my dropping health bar. Got to keep an upbeat attitude in the face of impending doom.

  “Picked this baby up while doing a Daily Quest, believe it or not,” he said with a wide grin. More arrows struck the beetle shield. “Sometimes mindlessly grinding experience points can pay off.”

  I had pulled up the local area map, again, this time enquiring about the nearest Healer's Temple.

  “Ingot's Perch,” I said.

  “What?”

  “It has a Temple!”

  “Oh,” Mudhoof said as if realizing our current situation. “Right. Well, Vee, there seems to be only way to get out of here.” A machine-gun like cracking of arrows assailed the shield as if to emphasize his words.

  “What's that?” I dared to ask.

  “Time to pull out the big Sausage,” the minotaur said with an even wider grin.

  I shouldn't have dared. “What? Sausage?” I said confused.

  “Don't mind while I whip this out, ma'am?” Mudhoof said. He dismissed his battle axe and motioned the free hand toward his waist.

  I was beside myself in disbelief. “What the heck are you going on about, Muddie? Now is not the time for juvenile jokes about your-”.

  Mudhoof laughed and tipped the shield up a little and pointed at a patch of sand next to us. “Here, check out my big Sausage.”

  At that moment, a massive pig popped into existence beside us. No, not a pig. A warthog!

  I blinked in surprise. Huh?

  “He's my new mount!” Mudhoof said with pride which was partly drowned out by a staccato of arrow impacts.

  The creature was nearly twice the size as Smoke, and easily a million times uglier. A jumbled forest of tusks stuck out at all angles from its mouth. Thick tufts of hair bristled from unspeakable nooks and crannies along its dark pitted hide.

  Fastened to its arched back was an almost comically small saddle.

  “You named your giant pig mount, Sausage?” I said, shrinking health bar momentarily forgotten. Then I started to laugh, and couldn't stop.

  “That's the spirit!” Mudhoof declared. “Now let's get out of here!”

  With that he hoisted me up with his free arm and, while keeping the beetle shield over our heads, ran to his mount.

  Mudhoof leapt into the saddle and wedged me between him and the enormously wide neck of the warthog. Arrows thunked into the animal's thick hide, but it didn't appear to even notice.

  Mudhoof grabbed the reigns and kicked at Sausage. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Sausage snorted loudly, spraying an ungodly amount of mucus and spit all over the place. Then he wheeled about and charged toward the river at full speed. Arrows continued to rain over us, and I grudgingly had to acknowledge the skill of those archers, so far up.

  As we neared the river's edge I asked, “Does Sausage have a Leap ability?”

  “Nope!” Mudhoof said.

  “Do you?” I asked in alarm as the roiling water neared.

  “Nope!” he said again.

  When he reached the very edge of sandy bank Sausage made an effort to jump. And barely a third of the way across we dropped straight into the water.

  For a few moments we sank like a stone, but to my relief we all popped back up to the surface. Sausage was more buoyant than he looked.

  As water sloshed around us, we looked back. The sandy spot, and the archers on the cliffs above, slipped from view.

  “This is good,” Mudhoof said, watching the landscape fly by on either side of us. “We'll be at Ingot's Perch in no time. How's the poison situation?”

  I looked at my health bar. What tiny gain the health boost had given me was gone, and the rest was slipping away. The edges of my view-screen distorted and blurred. “As bad as you'd expect.”

  Despite his size and burden, Sausage excelled at swimming in the churning waters. Soon, a small town appeared by the river in the distance.

  “There it is!” Mudhoof said.

  My health bar was at eleven percent. Things were going dark.

  As we reached Ingot's Perch, Mudhoof steered Sausage's massive bulk up onto a low part of the shoreline. A man, fishing rod in hand, stood nearby lost in contemplation about a potential meal. He fell back in shock as Sausage surged out of the water and stood dripping next to him.

  “Where's the Temple?” Mudhoof roared at the fisherman.

  The man was wide eyed with shock and I could only imagine how we must appear to him: larger than life and terrifying.

  “Wh-what?” he asked, confused.

  “WHERE IS THE FILTERING TEMPLE!?” Mudhoof bellowed.

  The man shrank back in fear, dropping his rod. “At the town square,” he said, pointing.

  And we were gone, Mudhoof driving Sausage at high speed. Sausage's large hooves clopped loudly on the cobblestone streets, as townsfolk scrambled to get out of the way.

  We entered the square at a full gallop. Mudhoof yanked on the reigns to turn Sausage toward a large squat building, topped with a pyramid. At the pinnacle was a statue of a dove.

  He drove Sausage up the Temple's stairs and through the open entrance. I heard shrieks of alarm, and Mudhoof shouting orders, but now my simulation suit was locking off my hearing, and my vision was an opaque slate grey.

  There was movement, and I had the sense my avatar was being carried. I heard the words, “FILTERing backstabbed with poison.” Mudhoof? I couldn't tell.

  I looked to my health bar, panic rising in my chest. One percent.

  A message appeared.

  You have been rendered unconscious.

  Then my view-screen went black.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I watched my black screen with concern, but then my health bar shot upwards.

  Much to my relief the screen brightened, and I could see again.

  Mudhoof hovered over me, huge battle-axe in one hand, and the long shell shield in the other. Next to him was a small bald man with a white topknot of hair hanging down his back. The Temple's healer.

  “You okay now, Vee?” Mudhoof asked, his eyes darting around. He looked nervous.

  I was about to answer when a system message appeared, floating in front of me.

  Achievement Unlocked! 'That Was A Close Call.' You have been revived from having only 1 hit point remaining and lived to tell the tale. Bonus: +2% effectiveness from Health Boosts.

  When I told Mudhoof this, he burst out laughing. “Really? You're only getting that now after all these years with your character? Sheesh. I unlocked that achievement just twenty minutes into my very first play session in.” He laughed some more.

  “I'm glad to be a late bloomer,” I said, standing. To the healer I asked, “I have you to thank from bringing be back from the brink of death?”

  The little man offered a modest bow. “It is my duty, miss. Shale, the Goddess of Health, will not have any suffering while in her
temple. Your friend should be thanked. Had you arrived but a few minutes later I'm afraid Shale would be most displeased right now.”

  “Well, I thank you both,” I said and dropped Mudhoof a wink. The minotaur barely noticed, still casting anxious looks about the place.

  “Allow me to offer you a gift for Shale's wonderful services,” I said and placed fifty gold pieces in the healer's hand.

  “Shale is pleased,” he said.

  To Mudhoof, I asked, “What's got you spooked?”

  He looked at me like I was nuts. “You kidding? That Pickle-winkle is around here, I know it.”

  I gave the main chamber of the Temple a look. Several cots, like the one I'd used, filled the place, but there were no other patients present. Only a roaring fire in the hearth at one end, and various tapestries depicting a flying dove, Shale's symbol. Few shadows for Perriwinkle to spring from.

  Still, Mudhoof was right to be on guard. The would-be assassin jumped in the same river we did, and could have rode it down to Ingot's Perch.

  The healer spoke up. “None can harm another while they are under the pyramid of Shale,” he said.

  “True enough,” I said, and patted Mudhoof on his massive arm. “You can ease up a little, my protector. That Shadow would have a tough time catching us off guard again, now we know he's hunting me.”

  Mudhoof snorted in irritation. “Still, it was a cheap shot. Stabbing someone in the back when they're not looking? How cowardly can you...” his voice trailed off as he realized who he was talking to. He smiled sheepishly. “I'm excluding you, of course, Vee.”

  “Of course,” I said with a playful rolling of the eyes. “But Perriwinkle is a symptom of my problem. It is the disease we need to cure once and for all. The sooner the better.”

  I turned to the healer. “Where might we find the nearest Locators Guild here in town?”

  “You will find one across the main square. They are beside the new clockworks shop. Can't miss them.”

  Thanking him, Mudhoof and I went to the Temple's entrance. We stood in the wide open doorway and took in the sight of the town.

  Typical medieval setting with cobblestone streets and stone-earth buildings wedged up against each other. Beggars begged and barkers barked. Occasionally, a player would pass our view and I tensed up if they looked in my direction.

  “No worries, Vee,” Mudhoof said, tightening the grip on his battle axe. “I got your back.”

  Any of these players could be a bounty hunter, biding their time for the right opportunity to strike once I left the safety of the Temple.

  Casually, we descended the stairs and made our way across the town square. Many people milled about, townsfolk and players, and we did our best to keep some distance from all of them.

  “This just underscores what I've been saying,” I said, keeping one hand on the pommel of the sword sheathed at my hip.

  Mudhoof sneered at a woman carrying a basket of apples who got to close, causing her to give us a wide birth. “What's that? That I'm awesome and wonderful and you can't have a proper adventure without me?”

  “Well, yes, that is all true, too. But I mean getting rid of this bounty. I'll never have a moments rest until that happens. Questing is almost entirely out of the question. At least not open world quests.”

  Mudhoof said, “You can still do instances with me and Thorm. No worries there.”

  “Yes, but I can't stay in an instance forever. And I'm not logging out and staying away from the game just because of it.”

  Mudhoof scoffed. “Now that would be a fate worse than death.”

  We reached the other side of the square unmolested, but our guard was still up. I spotted the Locators Guild sign with its stylized symbol of a compass, a few doors down.

  As we walked to it Mudhoof stopped in front of the clockworks shop next door. Its wide bay windows were filled with little clockwork robots which teetered around and belched steam. A shopkeeper emerged and placed a small robot on the ground. The machine wobbled about, inner gears grinding loudly.

  I was unimpressed. Clockworks was a new feature recently implemented into the game. Players can purchase, and even learn to make, clockwork beings for a myriad of tasks. Many players loved it. Personally, I didn't care for them. Too steampunk for me, but to each their own.

  “Cute, huh?” Mudhoof said as the robot bumped into a flower pot, shot out steam from a suspiciously placed orifice, then teetered off in a new direction. When Mudhoof noticed my expression he added, “Uh, maybe I should just smash it.”

  I motioned to the Locators Guild. “Let's get inside before the shopkeeper brings out bigger versions of that thing.”

  Entering a Locators Guild always gave me a little rush. It was crammed with maps. Large tapestry maps hung from the walls, rolled parchment maps were stacked on top of each other within narrow shelves. The smell of inked parchment and stitched wool assailed my nostrils and I turned up my simulation suit's olfactory settings to take it in like an addict.

  Various globes spun on stands, each representing some of the more popular worlds that filled the game.

  The service counter was at the back wall, and as we walked toward it I took my time to peruse all the worlds and places I would love to visit. There was so much to see and do within the game; billions of locations and near limitless quests to go on. I had no hope of seeing and doing it all within my lifetime. But I would have fun trying.

  I paused at a strange-looking globe, its surface blighted and blackened.

  “Looks like it was nuked,” said Mudhoof, looking over my shoulder. “No more loot to be found there.” It appeared that way. Where there once were continents and cities, now smudged outlines remained. Vast oceans had become deep, wide canyons and shattered rock.

  I selected the world's name. Herronia.

  “I wonder what happened to it,” I said.

  “Destroyed. By the Demon King,” said a man who appeared from behind a towering bookcase.

  I tensed for a fight, but immediately relaxed. Like the Temple, the Guild was a safezone.

  The man approached carrying a bundle of map rolls under one arm. His name appeared above his head. Yibbet (Locators Guild Cartographer).

  The mention of the Demon King, a recent enemy who nearly wiped out my whole party on a previous quest, caught my interest. “Destroyed it how?” I asked.

  Yibbet shrugged a skinny frame from within billowy yellow robes. “No one has any facts as to how, exactly. Some have reported a thick white fog encompassed Herronia's entire surface which preventing anyone from seeing. Then when it dissipated the planet looked like that. But other reports claim asteroids were nudged from their nearby orbits and pummeled the surface.”

  Examining the globe closer, I said, “Doesn't look like there are any impact craters.”

  Another shrug. Yibbet said, “Although we at the Locators guild pride ourselves on accuracy, we don't always go the extra mile to map out utter destruction.” His neutral expression was replaced by a genial smile. “Are you here about a map of Herronia? I can provide one for a modest sum.”

  Mudhoof barked a laugh. “Bet all your maps of the place are now heavily discounted.”

  “No,” I said. “We're interested in your locating service.”

  Yibbet brightened. “Very good. Please follow me.” He dropped the maps he was carrying on a table and led us deeper inside.

  Atop a podium was a large open book, thick with weathered pages. Yibbet stood over it and brought out a beautiful blue quill pen, which looked expensive. As he dipped its tip in a squat ink bottle, I couldn't help myself and pulled up the statistics for the pen.

  Item: Niqix Quill Feather (Rare), Weight 0.01 Units, Uses: Can be used in Alchemy, Cartography and Inscribing spells. Value: Unknown.

  Do you wish to query for current auction house prices? Y/N

  I selected Yes.

  Querying. Item found. Current asking price range is 450 Gold Pieces to 620 Gold Pieces.

  Impressive, I thought.
Rare items that could be used across a broad range of skill sets were worth a lot.

  “Person, place, or thing?” Yibbet asked. He stood with the Niqix Quill Feather poised above a blank sheet of the open book.

  I dismissed the statistics screen from my view. Nosey gamer, me.

  “Uh, place,” I said.

  Yibbet carefully drew a symbol at the top of the page. Finished, he asked, “Name?”