Temple of Sorrow: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  “Hey, Emerson,” Daniel said. “Sorry for the lack of video. I’ve got my visual cortex shunted into the game.”

  “No problem.” Emerson wasn’t particularly fond of video meetings with Daniel anyway. The guy had a weird habit of curling his lip after every sentence like he was sneering at the world. “Just checking in on our numbers.”

  The release was happening in stages, a soft launch to build buzz and make sure the servers could handle the load. Plus, management wanted to run Veia (and Zaa, if the other AI ever became relevant) through their paces before opening the floodgates. Beta testers had raved about the game, but sometimes that wasn’t reliable information.

  “Aside from your all-stars,” Daniel said, “we’ve got about a thousand players per major starting area. Seems to be going smooth, no major complaints. The community team is seeing some decent buzz building.”

  “How about the all-stars?”

  Daniel hesitated for a moment, then laughed. “Almost got me. No, I haven’t been spying. Like you said, no interference. Strict isolation for the first few weeks, because otherwise we might be tempted to start tweaking things prematurely.”

  “Hey, is it the same story with Zaa’s content still? No players getting seeded into his area of control?”

  Again, the game master hesitated. “It’s strange, actually. We’re seeing plenty of activity on the AI’s network. He’s busy, busier than he was during development or beta. But no players yet. We’re still letting the heuristics take care of starting location assignments…”

  “But eventually we might want to override, right?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anything else?” Daniel’s voice held an impatient edge, and Emerson imagined his lip curling up at the end of the question.

  “Nope, just checking in. Thanks Daniel.”

  He cut the connection, then spun in his chair a few times. He didn’t like how few answers he’d gotten, but at least the launch was going well. He’d deliberately avoided connecting to his main dashboard, worried he might fall into the trap he’d warned customer service about. Veia had the game under control. At this point, he’d probably just screw things up if he started messing with the AI’s settings.

  Chapter Nine

  REMAINING BEHIND THE throne, Devon crossed the encampment toward the leatherworker’s hut. She crept cautiously and was rewarded with her first skill-up in Stealth.

  Gerrald, a middle-aged man with deep furrows across his brow, looked up at her approach. She nodded at him silently and dug into her bag for the snakeskins. He accepted them without a word and examined each.

  After setting them aside, Gerrald looked at her with a brow raised in question. His eyes seemed to ask what she’d like in return for the skins. Devon searched the periphery of her vision until she spotted a new window. She focused on it, and a trade interface slid to the center of her view. On one side, two of the slots were filled with her stacks of snakeskins. The other side was empty, but there were icons she could drag into the proposed trade. She cocked her head, concentrating, and moved in a symbol for the type of armor she wanted him to make.

  The man nodded enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. Whoops.

  She held up a finger and pulled out the knife sheath she’d pilfered from the lawyer. With a combination of miming and manipulating the interface, she managed to request a belt to which she could attach the sheath and her jute bag.

  The man nodded, less eager this time.

  As she was about to accept the transaction, one more idea occurred to her. She glanced at the pile of leather cord beside the man’s feet and held up three fingers as she pointed to it.

  Gerrald now looked decidedly displeased with the bargain, but after a moment he nodded acceptance. The window vanished, and he set aside his previous project and grabbed pieces she assumed would be turned into the items she’d ordered.

  You have uncovered a skill in which you have intrinsic aptitude: Bartering (4).

  Skills which are intrinsic start with a value above 0.

  You have gained a skill point: +1 Bartering.

  That was something new. So she was a born haggler? She thought the messages meant that her Bartering skill was now 5, and when she popped open her stat sheet, she saw that was the case. It would have been nice to come into the game with intrinsic skill in, say, Conjuring Badass Fireballs. But the bartering would come in handy, too. Especially once she found her way to a damn city.

  Which required getting the hell away from Uruquat.

  Devon had some business in the jungle, but as long as she was here, she might as well see if she could work on that Stealth skill a little more. She’d need it for the later parts of her plan. With knees bent and placing each foot carefully, she crept up behind the throne. As quietly as she could, she stepped around the side of the massive chair. Uruquat spotted her movement and glanced at her.

  “Why you not killing slideys?” he growled.

  “Sorry, Your Gloriousness, I’m practicing sneaking up on them. I can kill more that way.”

  His massive brow furrowed and his beady eyes narrowed. “You not sneaky. Smell too much like stinky human.”

  Was that how he’d noticed her? Good to know.

  The attempt to approach hadn’t gained her a skill point, but she tried again, this time stopping a little farther the throne. A faint breeze began to stir the clearing, helping her cause. Though when Uruquat raised his arms and stretched, she deeply regretted being downwind. After finally gaining another skill point in Stealth, she evacuated the area. Grinding out levels and skills had never been her thing anyway.

  On the way to the edge of the jungle, she stopped by Hezbek’s hut. Her mouth had gone dry as chalk after fighting through the night.

  “Hezbek, may I drink from your barrel?”

  The woman looked alarmed. “Of course, my starborn friend. Have you had nothing to drink since you arrived?”

  Devon shrugged. “I was distracted I guess.”

  Hezbek tutted and waved at the barrel. “Well, best drink your fill.”

  Devon dipped a ladle into the barrel and drank deeply of the lukewarm water. It tasted faintly like plants, not surprising given the surroundings.

  “You come back safe from… whatever you’re intending, and I’ll give you a waterskin,” Hezbek said.

  A quest prompt appeared.

  Hezbek is offering you a quest: Survive Your Crackpot Scheme

  Hezbek has grown fond of you. It also startles her when you respawn on her cot. Avoid dying today, and she’ll reward you.

  Objective: Live through the day.

  Reward: A Unique Waterskin

  Accept? Y/N

  Unique? Devon wondered what that could mean, but she didn’t want to get into it. Quickly accepting the quest, she thanked the medicine woman and headed back outside. As it had been the previous afternoon, the heat in the clearing was getting oppressive. With her knife settled comfortably in her grip, Devon chose a random direction and pushed into the cool darkness beneath the foliage.

  ***

  Devon sighed as another snake died after her first strike with the rusty knife. She started slitting the reptile’s belly, activating the decomposition into usable loot. A good quality snakeskin joined the stack already accumulating in her bag. She dropped in a single poison gland as well but left the meat. If she gained more than five pieces of meat, rather than stacking up in an inventory slot, it spilled over and occupied another box in her interface. She had two piles of snake meat already, certainly more than she expected to cook before it spoiled. Besides, her bag was starting to feel heavy. It would be nice once she could see her attributes and potentially put a couple points into Strength.

  While she was poking through her inventory, she noticed the pocket lint again. She wasn’t running out of bag space, but it was kind of annoying. She focused on the item and felt it land in her palm. She pulled out the ball of fluff—actually, it was quite a sizable amount, filling her hand
like a large apple—and tried to drop it on the ground. The lint stuck to her hand.

  Pocket Lint is indestructible and soulbound.

  Groaning, Devon glared into the forest. “Very funny, Veia.” The AI had a really annoying sense of humor.

  She stood and swiped the hair from her brow. Though it wasn’t as sweltering in the trees as out in the clearing, the sticky air and dense foliage made for unpleasant work. Not to mention having to cut her way through thickets and vine curtains. Before hunting, she’d hacked out a clearing that she planned to use later. Her arm still ached from the effort.

  Rotating the knife in her hand, she peered into the greenery. The snakes were dying too fast. At this rate, she might end up satisfying the requirements for the reputation quest after all. Ugh.

  She pushed through another few yards of jungle before spotting the brighter green hue of a tree viper’s scales. With a deep breath, she crept forward. Despite Uruquat’s warning, the snake didn’t flee her human stench, and soon she stood within striking distance.

  Devon kicked, connecting with the snake’s jaw. Its head whipped to the side. The blow didn’t seem to do outward damage, but the reptile blinked slowly as if dazed.

  She focused on the animal, trying to assess its health. Obligingly, the game showed her a red bar that had been reduced to about one-third of its capacity.

  You have gained a skill point: +1 Combat Assessment.

  Though the information is rough at low skill levels, you have a vague idea how your enemy is faring.

  If used before combat, this skill may give a notion of an enemy’s challenge rating. However, you should probably also listen to your gut.

  She dispelled the alert.

  Awkwardly, the reptile coiled for a strike.

  Devon rose onto her toes and shifted the knife in her hand so that the butt end of the hilt stuck out beyond her curled pinky finger. Like bringing down the hammer, she pounded her fist against the snake’s head. The creature went limp. Dead, again? Devon was about to punch a tree out of frustration when a popup appeared.

  Congratulations! You’ve discovered a new ability!

  You have learned: Incapacitate - Tier 1

  When used on a creature with major to severe wounds, this ability has a chance to knock the enemy unconscious.

  If the effect fails, you leave yourself open to a retaliatory strike doing double damage.

  Nice! As the popup disappeared, she felt knowledge of the ability melt into her awareness. Unlike her previous experience with games, where she had to train her mind to use the interface—even if subconsciously—to activate her spells and abilities, in this case she was certain that she simply knew how to use the special attack. As an experiment, she sprang at the tree she’d been so ready to punch, willing her Incapacitate ability to activate. The hilt of her dagger struck a glancing blow.

  Ability failed. Target’s health not within parameters.

  Duh. She swiped the alert away and picked up the snake. When she tried to stuff it into her bag, she got an error message about the item being too big. That didn’t make a lot of sense to her, seeing as how she’d fit the deconstructed remains of more than ten of the same monster type inside the container, but she decided she could live with the inconsistency. Slinging the limp viper over her shoulder, she turned for the camp. Just a couple more things to take care of before she could continue with her plan.

  Chapter Ten

  AS DEVON SLIPPED into the encampment, she yawned. Her fatigue bar was around 70% full, which meant she’d have to take a break soon. Distantly, she wondered what time it was out in the real world. Since she usually played with her interface elements shoved off to the periphery of her vision, she hadn’t bothered to check for a clock displaying Utah time. She’d have to look for that at some point.

  The sun hung low above the treetops, casting golden light on the circle of huts. Devon was surprised to feel herself smile at the sight. Aside from the obnoxious ogre in the middle of the encampment, she’d grown fond of the place. She skirted the edge of the open area, heading for Hezbek’s tent. The woman was inside, scraping the pith out of some sort of long seed pod that reminded Devon of a vanilla bean.

  Unfortunately, the pod did not smell like vanilla.

  “Care to make a trade?” Devon coughed, eyes watering. If things went sideways and she remained stuck here, she’d definitely have to air out the hut before sleeping.

  Hezbek looked up from her work. “I doubt I should aid whatever harebrained plan you’ve concocted, but I suppose I’ll listen to your offer.”

  The interface for trading popped up without Devon consciously activating it. She dropped in eight poison glands, the spoils of her latest adventure.

  “What do you want for them?” Hezbek said.

  “One of those healing potions, if you can spare it.”

  “I already offered to teach you how to make them,” the woman said. “Once you know the recipe, you can keep an eye out for the components while you’re off doing other things.”

  “I understand, but I just need the one.”

  “You don’t look injured...”

  As Devon took another step into the hut, Hezbek shrieked. She scuttled for the far wall.

  “What? What is it?”

  The woman pointed a trembling finger at Devon’s shoulder. “Move slowly. You do not want to get bitten on the neck. Most poisons have increased effectiveness when delivered near the heart or brain.”

  Devon stifled a laugh as she lifted the unconscious snake’s head and let it flop. “Not to worry.” Of course, she might want to speed up the chitchat. The ability description for Incapacitate didn’t say how long the victim would stay unconscious.

  Hezbek swallowed and seemed to gather herself. She cleared her throat. “Well, I hate to accept such an advantageous trade from someone I hold in high esteem, but if you’re determined to give away eight glands for a potion worth just a couple coppers, I suppose I can’t refuse.”

  “Then consider my offer to be partial repayment for your help with the Stone Guardian.”

  The woman sighed. “Fair enough.”

  The trade confirmation flashed and then vanished. Devon peeked in her inventory and spotted the healing potion.

  “Thanks, Hezbek,” she said as she ducked out the door.

  “Remember, I have something for you if you manage to not die!” the woman called.

  Devon smirked. She hadn’t known either of her grandmothers, and her mother had not been the nurturing type. It felt kind of nice to have someone nagging her about safety. Especially since she’d be gone soon and wouldn’t have to endure it for too long.

  The sunset had set fire to a thin layer of clouds, coloring the encampment in reds and oranges. As Devon hurried across the packed earth, she nodded to the leatherworker, Gerrald. He reached into his hut and pulled out the finished items.

  She examined the first as he handed it over.

  You have received: Leather Belt

  A utilitarian item, the belt looks sturdy enough.

  2 Armor | 12/12 Durability | Slots: 2

  The slots must be where she could affix other items. She looked closer and saw that, indeed, there was an extra strap and buckle on the right side to secure the knife sheath. And on the other side, a set of ties had been threaded through the leather.

  “May I?” Gerrald asked in a low voice as she tried—unsuccessfully—to attach the bag to the ties. She nodded, and with a few twists of his fingers, he fastened it securely to the belt.

  She smiled as she buckled the belt around her waist. The armor rating was a nice bonus—already she felt more protected.

  Next, he handed her the three sections of leather cord she’d requested. Though his face suggested he was curious why she wanted them, he didn’t ask.

  Finally, he glanced at the back of Uruquat’s throne and furtively slid the final item across a stump that stood between them.

  You have receiv
ed: Tribal Sandals

  Though a bit strappy for the determined adventurer, these sandals provide decent protection. For the bottoms of the feet, anyway.

  Faint runes have been scratched into the underside of one of the straps, drawing on an ancient guild tradition to provide a minor enchantment.

  1 Speed | 20/20 durability

  She grinned. The enchantment was a very nice surprise. No armor, but that wasn’t surprising. A pair of strappy sandals wouldn’t offer much protection unless a monster was trying to chew a hole in the bottom of her foot.

  She slipped on the sandals and shuffled a few steps, feeling fleeter already.

  From the fire, she heard a grunt.

  “Where meat?” Uruquat bellowed. “Hungering!”

  Right. Best get on with this.

  After backing off to the fringe of the camp, Devon pulled out the healing potion. She grimaced, breathing through her mouth as she unstoppered the little pot. Man, the stuff reeked. But if she didn’t want to hunt snakes for the foreseeable future, she’d just have to deal with it.

  With a sick swallow, she plunged her fingers into the pot, drew them out, and started smearing the thick liquid over her limbs.

  “I’ll show you stinky human,” she muttered.

  ***

  She’d crept within two paces of the throne when the damn snake started stirring.

  “Shit!” she whispered.

  Dropping to a crouch, she sprinted the final few steps and slid to a stop beside the chair arm. Her eyes were level with the ogre’s forearm, granting an unfortunate view of the warts and crusted boils that covered his skin. When he started sniffing the air, snorting mucus in the process, she stiffened.