Temple of Sorrow: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 1)
Page 11
“All sorts of things. They are able to gain higher skill tiers, command others, and take apprentices. But, Your—Devon, as much as I’d like to be considered, you should know the limitations. You can raise only a fixed number of tribe members depending on the level of our settlement.”
“I see. Well, for now, I would like you to begin training as a fighter. You’ll still need to help with the construction now and then. For the rest of the afternoon, though, I’d like you to join me in clearing some of the wildlife from the surrounding area.”
As soon as the words left Devon’s mouth, the woman stood straighter. Though the changes were subtle, she seemed to fill out a little bit, gaining muscle tone and a keenness to her vision as she surveyed the encampment.
As Devon handed over the rusty knife, she found herself faintly reluctant to release the hilt. She snorted. Stupid sentimentality.
The woman didn’t notice Devon’s reaction because she was so busy staring, awestruck, at the pathetic weapon.
“Thank you, Devon. It’s… I’ve always dreamed of this chance. I won’t let you down.”
“I’m certain you won’t,” Devon said, clapping the woman on the shoulder.
Devon and Bayle spent the next few hours in the jungle working together to slay a couple dozen snakes. Devon received no experience or skill gain. Mostly, she stood by, ready to jump in if Bayle got in over her head. Soon, though, Bayle had enough skill to handle the encounters on her own.
After giving the woman some parting words of encouragement, Devon stuffed her bag with the loot, leaving the new fighter to fend for herself. She returned to the village, unloaded the snake meat, and asked one of the unspecialized workers to start cooking it. Because Bayle wasn’t starborn and was still leveling up, many of the pieces of meat were listed as Snake Meat - Scraps. Fortunately, the game allowed Devon to combine seven scraps to create a piece of usable food. By the time the snake and sloth steaks were cooked and added back to the village resources, the food supply looked like this:
Food consumption
- 13 basic food/day
Food available
- 10 x Smoked Turtle Meat
- 8 x Dried Sloth Meat
- 12 x Snake Steaks
They’d added another day of rations for the camp plus a little more.
Devon realized she hadn’t felt hungry in quite a while. The game must be automatically subtracting a food unit for her each day now that she was a tribe member. Convenient.
As she was running through a few of the settlement management interfaces, looking for a way to designate Advanced NPC’s, the carpenter, Prester, came and stood before her.
She quickly swiped away the interface.
“I now have the materials to build something for you.”
Devon clapped her hands together. “Awesome. I want you to design and build a raised sleeping platform in the jungle where we cleared the understory. It should be at least the height of two men above the ground.”
The carpenter’s face fell. “I—” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to build a raised platform.”
Devon was careful not to let her disappointment show. She should’ve thought of that—he probably had just a small list of things he could construct at low skill levels. She didn’t want to hurt the man’s morale, so she smiled encouragingly.
“Let’s see what you can build. I’m sure anything will be useful.”
Immediately, a new window showed in her view, displaying the carpenter’s available plans. He understood how to make:
- Rough Planks
- Simple Table
- One-room Shack, Flat Roof
- Simple Dock
As Devon stared at the interface, the man fidgeted with eagerness. She considered having him build a few tables to see if he’d get access to the next skill tier’s plans, but she doubted those would include a platform either.
“I want to try something,” she said. “And if it fails, you can’t be hard on yourself. Consider it my fault.”
He shuffled in the dirt, looking skeptical.
“Come with me,” she said, starting for the trees. The afternoon swelter was settling into the open area anyway. As they passed into the green shadows beneath the canopy, she pointed out several of the taller trees they’d left standing while clearing the undergrowth.
“I want you to imagine that these are pilings. Right now, we’re walking on water.” The man’s face twisted in a confused expression. He chewed his lip. “But—okay, I’ll try.”
“Now, if you were to build a dock on those pilings, raised up high above this water, that would be easy, right?”
“Well… I understand the plans, and I have the materials…”
“Will you try?” she asked.
He held his silence for a moment, shuffling in the leaf litter, then finally nodded. “I’ll try, Your Gloriousness.”
Devon held her tongue. Correcting them on this title thing might be a losing battle.
“If you were building a dock, how long would it take? Would you be done by dark?”
“I believe so, if you’ll permit me to ask the others for help moving the supplies into place.”
“You’ll have as much help as you need.”
“In that case, I’ll try. I’m still not certain this will work, though.”
“Understood. And you’ll bear no blame if it doesn’t.”
***
While the carpenter set to work, Devon returned to the clearing and pulled Hezbek aside.
“I noticed when I looked through the settlement’s resources that none of your potions were included, yet you use them freely.”
The medicine woman nodded. She fanned her face with her hand and gestured toward her hut. “Shall we get out of the sun?”
Devon smiled. “Yes, please.”
As they stepped inside, Hezbek dipped a ladle into her water barrel and took a drink before scanning the shelves. She muttered something to herself and switched the positions of a couple clay pots. Finally, she turned to Devon.
“You are right, you have free use of everything I produce.” She smirked. “I was looking forward to having an apprentice… I suppose you won’t want me to teach you now.”
“I’ve never been good with recipes anyway,” Devon said. “You should see my disastrous cooking attempts. But as for the apprentice, maybe we can arrange something once we’ve grown the settlement.”
“I’d like that. I never had children of my own, but…” She waved off what she was going to say. “You don’t need to hear my life story right now. You were asking about consumables.”
A new window popped up, showing Hezbek’s name, and a list of potential orders and the time they’d take to create. Right now, she could produce:
- Jungle Health Potions – Minor, 1 day
- Jungle Health Potion – Mid, 3 days
- Jungle Antidote – Minor, 1 day
- Jungle Mana Potion – 4 days
Devon nodded. That could be useful. “So I just put orders in the queue and you work on them?” She dragged in a Jungle Health Potion - Mid potion followed by a pair of Jungle Healing Potion - Minors.
“As I’m able. If you don’t give me explicit instructions, I’ll use my best judgment. The more I practice, the faster I’ll get at producing each potion. It’s likely I’ll also get ideas for new concoctions.”
Devon nodded. “I have a couple more questions before you get to work.”
“Sure, ask away.”
“When you first brought me here, you mentioned preparations for war. You said I wasn’t experienced enough to learn about that. Can you tell me now?”
Hezbek’s cheeks darkened in shame. “I’m sorry, Your Gloriousness. I didn’t know you as well back then, so I didn’t feel the need to be so honest. The truth is, I don’t know the answer. Uruquat claimed that we needed to gain this great power in preparation for a conflict. Actually, he didn’t use those words. I believe he s
aid, ‘We make readying for the fighting.’ Anyway, I doubt he concocted the plan to venture out here alone. Maybe he was working with someone.”
A quest dialog popped up.
Hezbek is offering you a quest: Who are the Puppet Masters?
Surely the ogre didn’t come up with his plan alone. It would probably be a good idea to figure out who else knows you’re out here.
Objective: Find out who was supplying Uruquat with ideas.
Reward: 5600 experience
Devon accepted the quest then stepped toward the door flap, grimacing at the heat that leaked around the edges.
“Thanks, Hezbek,” she said.
The woman mumbled something in response, her attention already consumed by her mortar and pestle.
Devon stepped outside. Puppet masters… The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that others were behind this expedition. Which meant they probably knew exactly where this camp was located. Not a great situation. For now, the raised platforms would allow the tribe to sleep in safety, but before constructing more permanent structures, she wanted to survey the surroundings in hopes of finding a better location for a village.
Lost in thought, she hacked a path toward the Ishildar’s outskirts. As she trudged forward, slaying underbrush with artful strikes from her mighty machete, she peered into the shadowy forest.
“Hey, wisp?” she called. “About that champion thing, I’m interested now.”
Unfortunately, the glowing ball didn’t arrive. Eventually, sweat-soaked and bored with the task, she returned to the camp.
And was greeted with panicked shouts. Her breath caught… not again.
Devon chased the shouts to the construction site and saw a half-built platform cantilevered over a pair of cowering villagers. The carpenter was frantically trying to keep the whole thing from tipping and crushing people. Devon ran over, grabbed a vine, and threw it over the uphill corner of the falling platform. She dropped her weight onto it, and the wooden decking began to tilt back to level.
She started calling out instructions, getting people to support it from underneath, hoping to center the platform and lash down the corners.
After a few difficult minutes, they managed to get the platform’s frame level and securely fastened to four of the trees. The carpenter sat on the planks, mopping his brow. After a few breaths, he raised his chin then stood and asked for the final boards to finish the floor.
Around twenty minutes later, the sturdy platform was complete.
A string of messages appeared.
Construction succeeded despite lack of plans! (+60% chance due to your Improvisation score.)
Congratulations, your settlement has a new building. Your carpenter has learned the plans for Raised Platform.
You received a special skill point: +1 Improvisation
Beside her, Prester was staring into the distance, a look of awe on his face.
“Improvisation, Your Gloriousness. I’ve gained a higher understanding of the skill. I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.”
Seemed like her special skill was rubbing off on those near her. Awesome!
Now that the platform was finished and secure, she suggested they replace the ladder of planks with rope ladders that could be pulled up overnight. After those were ready, she invited the villagers up onto the platform. They fit, though there wasn’t a lot of room to walk around.
Facing the group of villagers, she laid a hand on the carpenter’s shoulder.
“Thanks to Prester, we have a safe place for tonight. I want you to get your bedrolls and any possessions you can’t bear to lose and lay them out up here. I realize it’s not as comfortable as your huts. In the next few days, we’ll find a more permanent site to build a secure encampment. For now, though, we’ve nothing to fear from that boar.”
You have received +25 reputation with the Tribe of Uruquat.
Her work finished, Devon took a deep breath. Even though fatigue bar was only half full, she felt the tiredness sinking into her bones. A glance at her real-world clock showed that it was late afternoon. Time to get ready to eat some tacos.
She turned to Prester. “I must leave the realm, but I trust you’ll sleep well. Tomorrow, continue producing rough planks and raised platforms to increase your skills. Every bit of work you do now will make our next phase easier. I look forward to seeing your progress when I return.”
With that, she climbed down the ladder and went to sleep in Hezbek’s hut before logging out.
Chapter Sixteen
“HAS ANYONE TALKED to Penelope about this?” Emerson asked as he faced off with the CEO of E Squared Entertainment. They stood in a virtual boardroom, a circular chamber at the top of a wizard’s tower the CEO, Bradley, had created especially for his in-game avatar.
“How we deal with Penelope is not your concern,” Bradley said. “We’ve kept you two separate for a reason. We believe strongly in the idea of having the AIs face off in an ultimate conflict. But that doesn’t work if their creators share information.”
“But you’re asking me to deal with server load when more than half the problem is with Zaa. Meanwhile, Veia is running all the players. Her algorithms are creating more compelling content, more advanced mechanics… She’s basically the reason this game exists.”
“And we should just shut Zaa off?” Bradley asked sarcastically. “Abandon our philosophy of competition and retreat back to the mediocre content offered by last-generation games?”
“I’m not suggesting that at all. I’m just saying that maybe we should allow the AI who is succeeding to continue full steam. Force Penelope to get Zaa’s load under control or his content up to snuff.”
“Your statement is noted. Now, will you do as I asked and see where you can optimize? We need to bring more players online or we’ll lose our momentum. And if we have to bring more hardware onto the system to do that, it’s going to be a lot harder to turn a profit. Entwined won’t be happy.”
“That’s another thing. I have reports of the hardware causing an outsized pain response. Do we have any recourse with Entwined if they damage our players? Or if the play experience is too unpleasant and we lose subscribers?”
“I saw your email about that. Right now, the experience seems isolated to a single player, one of your all-stars. Are you sure she’s cut out for salaried play? Maybe she should go back to Tetris.”
Emerson was glad he was meeting in a virtual space. He forced his avatar to keep a stony expression while back in his kitchen, he sliced a carrot with angry chops that sent pieces flying.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll see what I can do about optimizations.”
“That will be all.”
Chapter Seventeen
TAMARA GRINNED WHEN Devon pushed through the door to the Mexican food place. The restaurant was packed, each of the battered yellow tables heaped with plastic soda cups, balled-up napkins, and huge plates of tacos. People sat around laughing, and since it was a Wifi-free zone, the only people with screens out were those eating alone and reading. Tamara had done a good job staking out and defending territory. Her purse, a black and purple thing constructed of outdoor-person ballistic nylon sat on one chair while Tamara hovered near another, her hand on the back so no one swiped it while she stood to wave at Devon.
Devon hurried across the floor, unused to the sound of so many people talking. Her in-game followers spoke, but it was always a low rumble of conversation, not this raucous laughter over shared food. It made Devon think she needed to do more to increase happiness in her settlement.
She sighed. She also really needed to work on forgetting about the game long enough to be social.
Tamara grabbed her purse and kicked out the chair for Devon to sit as she reclaimed her own seat.
“The server’s slammed. I wasn’t sure whether to order you something to drink.”
Devon scanned the laminated menu. “I think I’ll go with horchata.”
Devon glanced at the black lines of grease ground into creases on Tamara’s hands. Since taking the job as a bike mechanic, her friend had developed a tan and looked a lot healthier than she had during their time at Fort Kolob.
“So, do you miss being Annie Oakley?”
Tamara laughed. “Not at all. How about you? How’s life as a salaried gamer? Seems crazy.”
Devon shrugged. “People have been doing it for a while, but it’s either been competitive gamers… shooters and strategy players mostly, or it’s been live-streamers. Not my thing.”
“Don’t want your face on a few hundred thousand people’s retinas?”
“Or worse, a full-immersion sensory stream where they’re feeling everything I feel.” She grimaced. “I guess I’m into my privacy.”
“How about the game itself? I mean, assume you’re speaking to someone who’s completely ignorant about what they’re like.”
“It’s different. I’ve been enjoying myself more than I expected. I spawned way out in the wilderness with no one around, and I’m kind of making my own way.” Devon grinned. “Get this: I have my own tribe. We’re building a village.”
The server stepped up to the table, set down a pair of cups, and pulled out his tablet. “What’ll it be, ladies? And is the horchata okay? Your friend wasn’t sure what you’d want.”
“It’s great. I’ll have a carnitas plate.”
“Veggie tacos for me,” Tamara said.
“You got it,” the waiter said as he tapped a couple options on his device. He gave Tamara a subtle once-over before heading toward the kitchen.
“He’s into you,” Devon said.
Tamara shrugged. “I’m chilling out on dating for a while. I get plenty of testosterone exposure at work.”