The implants still itched. But now that everything was healed, she supposed she’d get used to it.
She lay back on her couch cushions, almost tentative. The can lights embedded in the ceiling glared down. After a moment, she waved her hand to tell the sensors to turn them off. No need to waste electricity while immersed. It felt strange. No VR pod, not even a headset. Just… her own body and the mental impulse to activate the hardware that was now a part of it.
She focused on the little icon flashing in the corner of her vision. A silver R expanded and floated to the center of her view. Beneath it, the words Relic Online pulsed with a faint gold halo that indicated the server was now up. Time to do what she’d been hired for.
Using the interface was similar to the way she’d trained her mind to interact with the VR pod. She focused on the icon and willed herself to connect.
The living room faded to black.
A heartbeat later, she stood under a bright, almost merciless sun. Humidity sank into her pores. The green smell of plant life filled her nose, so thick she could cut it. Vines were everywhere, growing in a riotous tangle over what looked like the ruins of stone buildings.
She shuffled and looked down. Her feet were bare, soles pressed against stone blocks that were pitted with age.
“So much for character creation,” she muttered.
She ran a hand through her hair, slick and wavy and much thicker than she was used to. A black strand fell across her face.
She shrugged. She’d always hated customizing her character’s appearance anyway.
As she turned a slow circle, taking in the scenery, the depth of the immersion struck her. The old technology had provided input for all the senses. It had felt real, but now she realized how far off it had been.
This tech went deep. Hyperreal. Almost too authentic.
She took a few steps and felt tiny bits of grit pressing into the bottoms of her feet. Ahead, vines spilled across the path, nearly hiding it. Whatever this place was, it had been deserted for a long, long time. Soaring stone arches were crumbling from the inside out. Overgrown by the roots of long-legged trees, statues stretched their arms out into the sunlight while their bodies suffocated under the foliage. Ahead, a spire of gray-white stone speared from the jungle, at least ten stories tall. But even the highest ledges and alcoves were covered in orchids, curtains of moss, and climbing vines.
Not much direction for a player, Devon thought.
She glanced down at her clothing, rough-spun fabric with hems ending well above her ankles and wrists. A patch had been whip-stitched over one of her knees. She focused her intent on summoning an inventory screen. A window popped up in her view, showing an inventory table with four slots. Three were empty, and the last was filled with pocket lint.
Below the window was a message.
You don’t have a backpack yet, obviously. The only place you can store items is your pants pockets.
Very funny…. She continued shuffling forward. At the next intersection, she headed down a wider path of fitted stone blocks. Wary, she kept her ears perked for sounds and searched the greenery for threats. Aside from the hum of insects and the distant chirping of birds, she seemed to be alone.
Abruptly, she tripped. Her knees cracked against stone as her palms slapped down just in time to prevent a face plant.
She rolled over and spotted the small lip where she’d caught her toe. She groaned. Was she really that clumsy?
A couple of messages popped up in her view.
You have gained a skill point: +1 Unarmed Combat.
When you are starting from nowhere, even the floor is a worthy opponent.
You take 1 damage. 24/25 health remaining.
She rolled her eyes. Seriously?
Remember, Devon, you’re getting paid for this.
Her stomach rumbled as she stood, wincing at a fresh scrape on her knee. She had no idea what she was supposed to do, but clearly she was going to need food, probably shelter too. She needed to orient, get a sense for the lay of the land. A high point would be a good start. Shading her eyes, she peered at one of the vine-draped statues. She hurried over, took hold, and started to climb. With a sudden tearing sound, the vines pulled free. She landed on her back, and her head smacked the ground.
You take 2 damage. 22/25 health remaining.
Fantastic. In the game for five minutes, and she’d already lost three health just walking around.
As she climbed to her feet, she glanced at the statue and grimaced. Carved of gleaming white stone, the figure had spheres of black marble veined with green shoved into its eye sockets. The proportions were off, particularly in the face, and it gave the sculpture an agonized look. Creepy.
She hurried on. After wandering for another quarter hour or so, she finally discovered a staircase. The steps had been built for someone much taller than her, and each step up was a struggle. By the time she’d finally ascended the long flight, her breath came in gasps.
You have gained an attribute point! Until level 5, Relic Online will adjust your basic starting attributes according to your play style. Once you reach level 5, your starting attributes will be revealed. You will be able to spend 4 discretionary points each level, advancing your attributes as you desire.
Out of curiosity, she pulled up her character sheet.
Character: Devon (click to set a different character name)
Level: 1
Base class: Unassigned
Specialization: Unassigned
Unique class: Unassigned
Health: 22/25
Fatigue: 25%
Not much to go on. She pulled open the subwindows for skills and attributes, hoping for more information.
Attributes:
Locked until Level 5
Skills:
Unarmed Combat: 1
That was it.
She went back to the main sheet for a moment and stared at her character name. Should she change it? In Avatharn Online, she’d named her character Revialle. But since none of her friends could remember how to spell it, they’d just called her Devon. She shook her head and closed the character sheet. Maybe later.
The stairs had reached a wide platform which, unlike the rest of the surroundings, was relatively clear of jungle. Her breath caught as she dismissed the windows and took in the landscape. Despite her explorations so far, it seemed she’d scarcely scratched the surface of the city. The ruins were immense, stretching out into the mists until, miles away, they washed up against a set of jagged cliffs.
You have discovered Ishildar, an ancient seat of power. Long-since abandoned, the city is now rumored to harbor secrets.
(Pro tip) Also, it’s dangerous.
Well, that was promising. But she’d expected to start in an area with other players, shops, and opportunities to advance her skills. Maybe if she could find a way out of this wilderness, she’d encounter more level-appropriate content.
“You’re remarkably unskilled to consider a conquest of Ishildar.”
Devon whirled to see a ball of mist, lit from within, bouncing lightly in the air before her. A wisp?
“Uh, hello.”
The bobbing globe said nothing. It circled slowly around her head as if examining her.
“And I wasn’t considering a conquest,” she went on. “Just trying to find my way.”
“Still…” The wisp said, ignoring her comment, “Veia did say the city would someday have a champion. We only needed to remain patient. Could you be her?”
Something fluttered at the edge of Devon’s vision, but when she turned her head, all was still. She looked back at the glowing ball. The way it was talking… Was she supposed to get a quest out of this thing?
She cocked her head. “Can you offer me work?”
“Work? As in, you want a job?”
Beneath Devon’s bare feet, the stone platform began to vibrate, shuddering as if shaken by immense footsteps. In the distance, le
aves rustled.
“I’m interested in gaining skills or earning rewards.”
The wisp zipped back and forth in the air before her. “Hmm. Well, I can’t grant you employment, but I can offer advice.”
“Oh?”
“Run,” the wisp said, darting off.
As she whirled to follow its motion, a flock of multicolored birds erupted from the treetops, squawking. The shaking intensified, setting little pebbles dancing on the flat stone surface. Devon took a step backward, away from the direction of the sound, as a massive figure stepped from behind a towering spire.
Her eyes widened as an immense stone golem raised a massive stone foot and stomped it down. The grating sound as its joints rubbed together vibrated her molars.
Its boulder of a head swiveled to look at her, faint flames like starlight deep within its cavernous eye sockets.
Yeah. Running seemed like a good idea. She whirled and raced down a short flight of stairs to a path that wound through low, vine-choked buildings.
There was a reason people wore shoes. With each slap of her feet against unforgiving stone, knives stabbed Devon’s knees and hips. She felt her fatigue rising, and as she thought of the statistic, a bar showed in the corner of her vision. It was nearly full.
Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs, rubbing her throat raw. Sweat pasted her hair to her scalp, and vines whipped against her thin clothing. She searched the edges of the narrow path for a weapon, considering then rejecting loose rocks and broken sticks. What good would such simple weapons do against a giant made of rock? She glanced back. The stupid thing was gaining. It knocked over buildings, stomped trees flat, and sent statues flying into pieces. As she whipped her head back around, desperate to find some sort of hiding place, a low stone archway swung into view. Her forehead hit the overhang with a crack that she felt all the way down to her heels.
You have gained a skill point: +1 Unarmed combat.
Floors, archways… Practice makes perfect!
You have been knocked unconscious.
***
To Devon, it felt as if she’d passed out or fallen asleep in real life.
Except when she woke in her own bed, she rarely had a headache that felt like an army of gnomes was jackhammering the inside of her skull. So much for the game’s muted pain response.
“Ow,” she muttered. Usually, when a player died in-game, the fatal injuries were wiped away during resurrection. Some realms added temporary weakness afterward—an effect called a debuff. But this headache was cruel and unusual.
You’re getting paid for this, remember, said the little voice in her head.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know my employment contract included torture,” she said aloud.
She cracked her eyelids. The light was dim, beams of afternoon sun falling through holes in the… canopy? The shade seemed awfully dense, even for a jungle understory. It didn’t make a lot of sense—she’d assumed she would respawn at the same location where she’d first entered the world.
“Drink this.” The woman had a scratchy voice.
Devon stiffened, eyes flying open. A hut. Thatched roof. Beams of sunlight stabbed through the ceiling, lighting shelves cluttered with baskets, roots, and pottery. As she craned her neck to find the speaker, a muscle along her spine cramped.
The woman stepped into view. A concerned expression creased a wizened face surrounded by coarse gray hair twisted with scraps of leather. She tutted, exposing a scattering of teeth on shiny gums. As she reached forward, offering a little clay pot stoppered with a spongy cork, Devon caught a whiff of incense and herbs suffusing her clothing.
Devon sat up slowly, limbs trembling. Her tunic was damp with sweat.
“Why did I respawn here?”
“Respawn, starborn?” She cackled. “You are inexperienced, aren’t you? Yes, it’s true that starborn souls may be reborn after the mortal bond is severed. ‘Tis the glory of Veia made manifest in a chosen few. But in your case, I dragged your body out of the path of a rampaging Stone Guardian. When knocked unconscious, you eventually recover unless you take more damage.”
Devon’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was… brave.”
“Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” the woman said with a wink.
So, she hadn’t died after all. That would explain the headache. Devon pressed fingers to her temples.
“Thanks for saving me,” she said.
Again, the woman held out the pot. “Drink it. You’ll feel much better.”
As she accepted the little jar, Devon took a better look at the room. She was sitting on a low cot, the mattress woven from some sort of fronds. Beyond her bare—and now filthy—feet, she spotted a barrel of water and a few hanging strands of dried herbs.
She twisted the cork and pulled until it came free. An absolutely awful stench burst from the pot. It was like paint thinner mixed with garlic. She flinched back, grimacing. “What is this?”
The woman chuckled. “Jungle Healing Potion - Minor. And it doesn’t taste as bad as it smells. Not quite, anyway.”
Well, it would probably be worth it to get rid of the excruciating headache. Plugging her nose, Devon set the jar against her lip and tipped it up.
The oily substance slid down her throat like she’d swallowed warm skunk spray. She gagged. The woman snatched a large pot from the floor and held it under Devon’s face until she finally managed to nod to indicate she wasn’t going to barf.
“Here,” the woman said, plucking a wrinkled tuber off a shelf. “This won’t do much against hunger, but it has a protective effect against some types of poison. Also, it settles the stomach.”
As Devon nibbled on the offered food—it tasted like a potato, more or less—her headache quickly faded. She pulled up her health bar and saw a final pulse of restoration return the statistic to full.
She held out the empty clay pot. “That helped. Thank you.”
The woman waved away the item. “Keep it. In fact, I can teach you how to create the potion yourself if you’d like.”
Hezbek is offering you a quest: A Disgusting Potion a Day Keeps the Doctor Away.
Gather ingredients to create your first healing potion.
Objective: Obtain 1 x Wormwood Sap, 3 x Wild Garlic, 1 x Orange Pond Scum
Reward: Recipe: Jungle Health Potion - Minor
Reward: 1 x Jungle Health Potion - Minor
Accept? Y/N
Devon’s stomach turned over at the thought of ingesting another of those godawful things. “Can I take a raincheck?”
Hezbek cocked her head. “Raincheck? I’m not familiar with this term.”
No idioms. Quaint. “I’d like to look around first. Will you teach me later?”
“Of course. Not much else for me to do around here. Just preparing for a war and things.” She smirked.
“A war?” Now that sounded more interesting. Getting involved in a conflict might be a good way to gain influence and experience.
Hezbek waved off the question. “Nothing that would concern a… shall we say a novice adventurer like yourself. Perhaps we could speak of this once you have more experience with our world.”
So she wasn’t high enough level to learn about the war. Fair enough. Devon swung her legs off the bed, stood, and stretched. Despite the day’s adventures, she felt as energized as when she’d logged in, if a little sleepy. She focused on the block of status bars containing her health and fatigue. Light-blue in color, the latter was back down to around 20%. She was surprised to see it wasn’t all the way back to zero, given that she’d been lying in bed.
“How do I get rid of my fatigue?”
The woman looked at her strangely. “Your Intelligence score isn’t that low, is it?”
Devon rolled her eyes. “I’m new here, okay?”
The woman cackled. “I’m just teasing anyway. Fatigue has both short-term and long-term recovery. Sprinting will make you exhausted, but if you stop running
, you’ll regain much of that energy. But not all, because eventually, your body needs sleep. You’ll want to find somewhere safe. A bed is best, but a nice comfy chair will do in a pinch. There is another option, though…” She glanced at her shelves and the myriad pots and containers crowded atop them. “I could teach you how to make Jungle Energy Potion - Minor. Interested?”
Devon shook her head before the quest popup appeared. “I’d like to come back later to accept your generous offer, but I was hoping to make it to a city today. I need to get outfitted with some equipment and gather information on a starting point for my adventures.”
“Um. About that…” Hezbek said.
“Yeah?”
“If it were up to me, the service I rendered in whisking you away from the Guardian would be free of charge. But I’m bound by the laws of the Tribe of Uruquat. You’ll need to remain here until you’ve settled the debt.”
Great. “The tribe of who?”
“We are dedicated to the glorification of Uruquat. We’ve been hacking out a home from the jungle for the last year or so. Eventually, it will be a kingdom envied across the realm.”
“Uruquat is your god?”
The woman looked a little uncomfortable at the question. “Not exactly…”
Devon fiddled with the clay pot. She tried to fit the little container into her pants pocket, but the opening wasn’t wide enough.
“Tiny items only,” Hezbek said. “Here.”
She held out a bag woven from some sort of twisted plant fiber. When Devon accepted the gift, a window popped up in her vision.
You have received: Jute Bag
A serviceable sack for carrying your stuff.
Container, 10 medium slots
“Nice, thanks!” She dispelled the notification, dropped the pot into the sack, and summoned her inventory screen. Now, the four spaces offered by her pockets had shrunk, and beneath them were ten much larger squares. Pocket lint still filled one tiny spot, while “Clay Pot - Small” took one of the larger. Devon passed the sack back and forth between her hands, unsure what to do with it. Carrying her items around like this would be awkward once it came time for combat.
Temple of Sorrow: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 1) Page 4