Terramyr Online: The Undiscovered Country: A LitRPG Adventure

by Sam Ferguson

  As a result, the accommodations there were among the nicest any of them had, not to mention they lent a bit of an exotic flair to the work, bunking in an enormous lava tube. The work was plentiful and required little digging and even less imagination to extract meaning from what was in front of you. It was a sweet deal for sure.

  Brian himself might have vied for the assignment, if he hadn’t had a feeling that his work between the southerly arms of Quetrupillan had some secret waiting just for him. Less than an hour’s hike from the Argentinian border, his instinct had paid off last year. A pre-Colombian village that centered on a Gijatuwe, a Mapuche ceremonial site, had emerged from a careful survey and some lucky drill samples. While the discernable foundation of permanent dwellings and a distinct ceremonial site would have been notable enough to satisfy any hungry archaeologist, the real gem had been Machi.

  When Machi had been found, the publicity had brought them some badly needed funding. Lay interest in a scientific field was always a two-edged sword though. Better funding could be secured, but more wacky theories started popping up that would need to be debunked. The news stories that had gone out after that had played up the indigenous myths, conflicts, and place names for the area, including the Mapudungan words for the three volcanoes. While the local words more accurately translated to home of the spirits, sleeping spirit, and dead rock, some clever reporter had gone with the most dramatic sounding translations: Home of the Gods and Devil’s Altar.

  Barry never missed a chance to rib him about that fact. He would laugh that while he had been selected to live with the gods, Brian had been sent to squat at the base of the Devil’s Altar. “As though Barry knows even a single word of Mapudungun that wouldn’t get him in bed with some local girl,” Brian mumbled to himself. “And there I go again, talking to myself like a crazy person.” He blew air out between his teeth and his cheeks, making a squelching sound. “Probably the reason he hasn’t logged back into the game. Finally encountered a scenario where he couldn’t spin a story to explain how much better he is.”

  As the hours slid past him on his journey through the forest, Brian’s mind slipped back to the game repeatedly. He imagined creatures from the game roaming the forest around him, partially emerging from the cloudy mist and then slinking away from sight. In many ways it wasn’t a difficult stretch for his imagination. The monkey puzzle trees, with their hairy lichen hanging from trunks and branches, were the sort that had been here millions of years ago when there really were monster-like creatures roaming the super continent that had connected Chile with Antarctica, Africa and Australia. More than the idea of hunting the next big baddie though, he found that his thoughts kept slipping back to Freya. He wondered what she was doing right now.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you moron,” he chided himself aloud. “She is doing nothing. She’s a bit of code on a server that is currently inactive, unless one of the others is playing instead of working right now.” He paused to take a seat and bust out some food from his pack. He was over halfway to Barry’s camp, which meant it had been plenty long since breakfast to deserve a lunch break. He imagined the rest of the team plugging away at their tasks, uploading scans or analyzing something new under a microscope. He pictured Rhonda and Mike at their site near the abandoned hot springs at Termas Palguin.

  The pictures he had seen of the place from a decade ago looked lovely. Not for the first time he wondered how the previous owners were getting on since having sold the place for pennies on the dollar after the thermal action had suddenly shifted away from their establishment. All the new earthquakes and volcanic activity over the last twenty years after centuries of relative stability were exciting, if not poorly timed for the sake of the archaeological discoveries that had been coming to light in the same space of time.

  Without a clear segue, his train of thought jumped from the shuttered business at the pools formerly fed by the hot springs to an image of Rhonda slipping into a hot tub in her bathing suit and relaxing in the warm water instead of hunched over her microscope as he usually imagined her. “Wow, constant exposure to a fantasy world is definitely having an impact,” he shook his head and chuckled to himself.

  He concertedly replaced the hot tubbing image in his mind with one of both Mike and Rhonda dutifully carbon dating and cataloguing the samples that Mike had retrieved from Brian the week before when he had ridden down on the old pack horse. He knew he would certainly rather be working his site rather than hiking through the forest to do a babysitting check on a fully grown adult who should be handling his own crap.

  “Better get this finished.” He wanted to get the conversation with Barry over with while he still had enough energy to handle it with some tact before needing to set up for the nightly meeting. With any luck, he’d be able to slip away without Meredith noticing so he could work on his own project. Rolling his eyes, he couldn’t help but indulge in a little bitterness at the way she’d made him feel like a kid sneaking out after dark to smoke with his friends just because he wanted to work the research that would complete his thesis, allow him to earn his doctorate, and finally get a real job. He took a quick drink of water, stowed the rest of his food, and settled the straps of his pack across his shoulders as comfortably as possible.

  The sun was just beginning to edge behind the summit of Villarrica when Brian came within site of the entrance to the cave openings. He could see the temporary barriers with aluminum doors that had been set up to provide some protection from the frequent rain for both the artifacts and the researchers who had been working in these caves the past few years. It was only Barry now, but there were still several doors leading to smaller caves, each given number designations, that had served as living quarters before the lava flows had become so unpredictable last year. The warm rays of the sun brushed the tops of the trees and made the bit of snow that clung to the side of the volcano’s summit appear to glow.

  Brian thought about lingering out here for a while. Then he considered whether he might concoct a great joke to play on Barry and startle him for a bit of revenge. When it came right down to it though, Brian was hungry and tired. He didn’t notice Barry anywhere out and about as he hiked the last few hundred feet to the door to Cave 1. Must be inside cataloguing, he thought to himself. He gave a slight knock on the door before pulling it open.

  He expected either an overly hearty greeting, or an exaggeratedly annoyed question as to what took so long to come and help him with his tech support issues, but what he got was something very different. The smell. For all the… what is that! Brian stumbled back a couple of steps and let the door bang closed for a second. Had Barry gone nose deaf? What could that ungodly smell be? Did he have some old meat in there?

  Brian pulled the door open again, this time as wide as he could in the hopes some fresh air would flood in and help to dispel the smell. He propped it open with a nearby rock. The lights were off inside, though Brian could see the blinking lights from the computer console in the center of the room. Looks like the generator is working okay.

  As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark cave interior, he could hear the sounds of buzzing insects mingled with the echo of dripping water farther back in the cave beyond the false ceiling that designated the work and living space. Trying to breathe shallowly through his mouth to avoid smelling the air, he slid his feet along the uneven floor carefully as he looked for the work lamp. He found it quickly and turned it on, noticing Barry’s slumped form in his gaming chair a foot away from the console.

  A fear stabbed at Brian’s mind and he felt the immediate heat of an adrenaline spike. Striding over to Barry, Brian tried to lift his arm. The arm inside Barry’s UC soccer hoodie felt strangely stiff and hollow. It wouldn’t move more than a centimeter. The smell was overwhelming. Brian felt dizzy and hot. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on Barry’s face, noting the VR headset that was still covering Barry’s eyes.

  Barry’s skin had a strange green sheen to it. His jaw was slack and there was not even
the faintest movement in the chest that could be caused by breath. Several flies were walking around the mouth and creeping up under the gap between his cheek bones and the VR headset. Brian stretched his hand toward the headset to remove it, but then paused, hand in midair. What if his eyes were still open? What if they were… deteriorating? He didn’t think he wanted to see that. Barry was clearly dead.

  Brian abruptly turned and ran out the door, kicking the rock that held it wide as he moved through the opening. He almost couldn’t hear the door bang shut behind him. Blood was pumping in his head, shutting out awareness of his surroundings. He ran to the tree line, wanting to put some distance between himself and the grizzly reality in the cave. Dropping his pack to the ground behind a monkey puzzle tree, he began pacing back and forth, breathing heavily.

  He wasn’t sure how long he remained in that panicked state before the voice of his fifth-grade teacher randomly popped into his head. “Panicking doesn’t help anybody.” She had repeated it an obnoxious number of times every day they had done an earthquake or fire drill in school. In the way kids latch onto random things, it had become a sort of catch phrase in his class that year, used at the most illogical moments when they couldn’t think of anything else to say. She would call on one of them to answer a math question, and when it was obvious he didn’t know the answer, a friend would yell out, “Panicking doesn’t help anybody,” and the class would burst out in hilarious laughter.

  Rather than get ruffled, she had always turned it into a teaching moment and had made them practice a range of mindfulness exercises. Brian sat down and closed his eyes. He tried to hear her voice in his head, “Take a breath one. Take a breath two. Take a breath three.” Each time, the breath was supposed to be drawn in and blown out more slowly, then the exercise repeated. “Hold one image in your mind and just focus on your breathing.” The image of Barry slumped in his chair threatened to present itself. Brian forced it away and called up the image from the top of Quetrupillan instead. In his mind’s eye he looked out across the icy crater to the peak of Lanin beyond the forested hills and valleys between. After several minutes, Brian could feel his heart rate slow and he felt more in control of himself.

  What had happened to Barry? Suddenly concerned that he might have been attacked while playing, unaware of his surroundings, Brian mustered his courage and returned to Cave 1 for a closer inspection. Opening the door hesitantly, he pulled the collar of his hoodie up to cover his nose and mouth. It cut the smell a little, but the scent was impossible to ignore entirely. Forcing every step, Brian approached Barry’s body, more disgusted than ever by the sight of the insects.

  He didn’t notice any blood. He ran his eyes over Barry’s neck and hands, looking for any cuts or bruises. He looked all around the room, trying to see whether it looked like anything had been rifled through or taken – anything that would indicate that someone had come to rob him and hurt Barry in the process. Everything looked pretty normal. There were some quality grave items out in plain sight on one of the tables, and all the computer equipment seemed to be in place.

  Brian began to call up any facts he knew about decay. Barry was stiff, smelly, and shiny. He had been dead for two or three days. Maybe a stroke? He had read articles about guys in internet cafes slumping over dead at their gaming stations, but only after playing for several days in a row with no break. Dehydration was usually at play. Was it possible to tell if someone had died of dehydration without being a medical expert or performing an autopsy? Barry had been logging more game time than the rest of them trying to level up. Could it have been as extreme as all that?

  “Focus on what you can answer,” Brian told himself. It was a good principle in archaeology and in this situation too. What should he do with Barry’s body? There was no vehicle access to the site. Help would need to walk in or ride in on a horse. Fifteen years ago they could have called for a helicopter, but there was no place nearby that would be safe to land these days. By the time he trekked overland to a city, or back to his own campsite, even more decay would have set in. Oozing would be next.

  Should he remove anything valuable from the area to keep it from being contaminated? He wasn’t about to move the body. In case there were questions about what had happened, he should probably document the scene. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was racing, and he began to feel the stinging barbs of panic setting into his brain again. He couldn’t deal with this all on his own. He needed to let somebody know!

  The fastest, easiest way to inform the team would be to log in to the game for the nightly meeting. He quickly turned to exit the cave, grateful for the opportunity to be out in the clean forest. Opening the door, he realized with a jolt just how dark it had become outside. What time was it? He hurriedly closed the door behind him and checked his watch. He was so, so late! He returned to where he had put his pack, grabbed it, and looked back to the doors that led to the caves. He would set up in one of the smaller caves. Hurrying to Cave 3, he pulled the door open.

  The interior smelled musty and damp. It was cold in there too. He quickly found where access to the generator had been granted through a small metal conduit that had been slipped through a drill hole in the side of the cave wall and plugged his laptop in. He unrolled his sleeping bag and spread it out on the floor next to the cave wall. Settling his back against the wall and his legs inside the sleeping bag, he pulled the headset out of his pack and quickly logged in.

  Brian materialized inside of House Bob. His adrenaline still pumping, his mind barely registered the flood of messages hitting his HUD.

  [QUEST COMPLETE: REESTABLISH CONTACT WITH CETA]

  [+5,000 XP]

  [+1,000 GP]

  [QUEST COMPLETE: ESTABLISH RELATIONS WITH AZUMOTH]

  [+5,000 XP]

  [+1,000 GP]

  [QUEST COMPLETE: ESTABLISH TRADE WITH ENDERBURY]

  [+5,000 XP]

  [+1,000 GP]

  [QUEST COMPLETE: ESTABLISH CONTACT WITH NEW BALTANIA]

  [+5,000 XP]

  [+1,000 GP]

  [You are now level 13]

  Turning for the door so he could fast travel from the courtyard, he almost missed the sound of laughter spilling out of the dining room beyond the foyer. A half dozen or so house guards and new recruits were gathered around the columns supporting the arches which delineated the foyer from the dining area. Passing by the trophy totem, Brian barely registered that it now displayed highly detailed representations of a variety of monsters emerging from the silky white marble, and relief carvings of the locations attached to quest tasks were placed among interwoven images of beasts and other Prirodhan creatures that offset the more elaborately carved totems items in the fashion of a Celtic knot or the post and lintel of a Viking stave church.

  Beyond the crowd of onlookers, his four friends were gathered, laughing as they watched Little Man perform acrobatic leaps in pursuit of a feathered lure Mike was manipulating with a spell.

  “Master Bob!” one of the new recruit NPCs greeted him heartily. “It is good to see you!” The sentiment was echoed by the other NPCs in one variation or another.

  “What held you up?” Mike asked without discontinuing the spell. “Kill another manticore on your way over?”

  “He’s late enough he should have had time to dispatch at least three manticores,” Rhonda quipped. Augustin and Mike laughed in agreement before Augustin looked away from the diminutive circus act and saw the distraught look on Brian’s face as he collapsed in a chair just inside the door.

  “What are you all doing here?” he asked, flustered to find his friends here instead of The Drunk Imp, and bothered by the cheery atmosphere.

  “The save point at The Drunk Imp was busted, so we decided to wait for you here,” Mike replied, again without even glancing in his direction.

  “GUYS!” Brian finally yelled.

  “Brian, what’s the matter?” Augustin asked, snatching the feathers from the air and directing the others’ attention to Brian.

  “B
arry is… he’s…” Brian was at a loss. He looked from his friends to the stupidly smiling faces of the NPCs gathered around.

  “I think we’d better take this into one of the bedrooms,” Rhonda was pale, possibly already guessing the bad news. She quickly got busy gathering up her satchel and a handful of food and other items that had been laid out next to her and ushered the others to proceed to one of the doors on the north side of the foyer.

  Chris set the NPCs to patrol the forest while Mike went ahead of Brian into the bedroom. He pulled out a chair located next to a small writing desk that was daily stocked by the house steward with a cup of hot chocolate and a croissant that would both restore a percentage of HP if consumed. He offered the chair to Brian. When Augustin, Chris, and Rhonda joined them, Brian collapsed into the chair.

  “Guys, he’s dead!” Brian almost couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud, as though speaking it somehow made it more real than what he had left behind him in the cave.

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked, squatting on the ground between the desk and one of the beds and leaning his head against the wall. “He came after you again?”

  “No, I mean I spent all day trekking over to Villarrica and found his body in Cave 1. His real, human, physical body,” Brian’s voice cracked just at the end there, but he forced himself to breathe deeply. He would need to keep as much control over himself as possible so they could actually discuss what to do.