First Login (Chronicle Book 1)

by Kevin Murphy

  “There’s no way that’s something that happens,” said Dakkon.

  “Well then, they’ll report us and have bounty hunters chase us down to kill us some number of times to pay our debt, or capture us to serve time which we can’t skip in a virtual cell. That definitely happens,” said Letis.

  “When you put it like that…” Dakkon paused. “You didn’t give him your name, did you?”

  “No, but as you can see, in a town, that’s public information for any player who may have been watching,” Letis said, pointing up to the blue name tag floating above his head.

  “Ah,” said Dakkon. “So, you’re saying we should go?”

  “Sooner rather than later,” said Letis.

  “Before that, how much money did we make?”

  “We sold 16 of them for 15 gold a head,” said Letis.

  “You sly dog,” whooped Dakkon. “I was expecting 10. And here you thought lettuce was unprofitable. Tsk.”

  “Let’s get out of here while we still can,” said Letis.

  “Forget your burro, buy a horse and we’ll hoof it,” said Dakkon.

  \\\

  On the road to Tian, Dakkon asked from swift-moving horseback, “So what’s two-plat-forty in credits?”

  “Pretty much exactly 240 credits,” said Letis, who had developed the unhelpful habit of frequently and conspicuously looking over his shoulder.

  “So, a gold is worth one credit, and a single platinum coin is worth 100?” asked Dakkon.

  “Pretty much,” said Letis. “It fluctuates a bit, but it’s never off by a lot.”

  “That was easily the fastest money I’ve ever made in my entire life,” said a contemplative Dakkon, “That’s a quarter of my rent for the month in, what, 10 minutes?”

  “Yeah,” said Letis. “That’s great, really, but now that I’m already in over my head, I think I’d probably pay 120 credits to not miss a few weeks of game time,” said Letis.

  “Hmm,” Dakkon, now beginning to weigh the risks versus the reward of his recent gambit for the first time, had his thoughts interrupted by the sudden jerk of the horse beneath him, the rush of wind, and the thump of earth that comes from being toppled forward over a crumpling horse. Dakkon’s head swam wildly.

  [You have slammed into the ground for 201 damage. Remaining HP 224/425]

  As his senses returned, he saw behind him that two sturdy ropes had been tied to trees on the far side of the road, then pulled taut as the pair on horses approached.

  “Well, well boys. What’s the hurry for?” asked a pleased man approaching slowly on foot. “Don’t you know not to ride so recklessly? Someone could get hurt.” The man sported a grim smile. “My what a lovely horse you’ve brought me.” The man approached Nightshade. “I think we shall call you Marley.” He stopped a few feet away from the horse which was riled and unapproachable so soon after its fall.

  “Elroy, this one here’s leg’s been lamed by the fall,” called out one of the surrounding men, inspecting their bounty.

  The bandit approaching Nightshade turned to the man standing over Letis’s new horse, “Well put the poor creature out of its misery then. You know we can’t tend a wounded animal.” The man, Elroy, looked around. “Come on boys, you know the routine. Don’t get soft just ‘cause the boss isn’t around.” He pointed at the two grounded men with upturned palms.

  Dakkon felt the weight of an indifferent boot on his spine. Letis’s mount let out a desperate whimper as a crude iron blade robbed it of any chance to mend. The sight and sound of the horse’s demise was too much for Letis who, only somewhat recovered from his sudden collapse, sprang forward and bolted for the tree line. Seven bolts from eight eager crossbows found him, and he dropped to a motionless state then faded away.

  “Bah, they’re that sort,” said the bandit who had missed.

  “Don’t kill the other one,” Elroy, who appeared to be in charge, said while he moved towards Nightshade with an outstretched hand intended to soothe. Everything had transpired so quickly. Dakkon had gone from a triumphant ride with a new partner in crime—the first and perhaps last of that distinction in a literal sense—to laying on the ground, wounded, with a foot on his back as he waited to be divested of his prize horse and saddle.

  Dakkon considered his options. There was no chance he could escape on foot. He’d have to get to Nightshade somehow, but what could he do? He racked his brain in a vain attempt to come up with something clever. He couldn’t exactly cool them all down. Maybe he could condense a Hotspot on Nightshade’s rump—like a smoldering ember—to get the horse to kick out backward—but no one was standing there, and even if it worked they might just decide it wasn’t worth getting kicked, shoot Nightshade, and simply loot the saddle. “Damn it!” thought Dakkon. “What can I do?”

  “Elroy,” a bandit called to the surrogate leader. “More are coming.” The bandits turned their attention westward and didn’t stir otherwise as a huge man trudged towards them, moving at a respectable pace due to the size of his massive legs. The giant individual held, in each hand, separate wooden shafts which served as handles to pull an oversized flat-topped rickshaw, plush with royal blue cushions and a woman sitting atop them. The sight of their steady approach gave the bandits pause until, when the two were about 20 meters away, and showing no signs of pause or concern, Elroy stepped toward them tentatively. The woman, who had been reading by the looks of things, refocused her eyes on the world around her and scanned the scene appraisingly. For a brief instant, her eyes locked with Dakkon’s and then, at last, settled upon Elroy.

  The bandit began to speak, “Now where do you think you’re—” but was cut off when the woman raised a finger as though silencing him. Then, from the tip of her finger, there formed a small sphere of glowing red-orange. The sphere spun, at first so slowly that it was difficult to notice, but then it sped up to a fervent pace. Then, all of a sudden, the sphere turned a radiant blue-white and grew to the size of a horse.

  “Now hold on there miss, I’m sure—” began Elroy, but he was cut short by the woman who flicked her finger forward, sending the sphere of flame flying toward Elroy at frightening speed.

  When the ball of fire arrived, consuming the space where Elroy stood, there was no great explosion and no cry of pain, there was only the fireball. It came to full stop, as though it had never been in motion. It began to spin faster and faster as the woman, still seated, looked to the remaining bandits who immediately scattered; but far too slowly. With a flick of her wrist and turn of her finger, the flaming sphere engulfed them one-by-one with eradicating heat.

  The woman gave a wan smile, looked back down to her lap, and resumed her reading as the fireball slowed, turned to orange, then faded away. The cart never stopped moving, and the large man walked by with a small nod toward Dakkon.

  Dakkon was in a state of shock. What exactly did he just witness? What kind of power allowed for that nonsense? Dakkon looked around. He found his horse, Nightshade, but was unable to lead him in the direction of the traveling pair. Nightshade was afraid. He didn’t run away, thank the gods, but he would not approach that woman, no doubt.

  Dakkon quickly tied Nightshade’s reins to a nearby tree and ran to catch up to the two. “Thank you!” he exclaimed. The giant man nodded, and the girl’s eyes refocused, but the pair did not stop. Dakkon hurried alongside to speak with them.

  “You’re amazing,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  The woman looked pleased, but somehow annoyed.

  “You’re like some kind of fire god,” said Dakkon.

  The woman reddened a bit at the praise, and the giant man chuckled. It seemed like the woman was unaccustomed to, or disapproving of, flattery, but Dakkon had information he needed right in front of him and pressed on.

  “Where can I learn magic like that?” Dakkon asked her.

  “You can’t,” she replied, steadily. “Aren’t you forgetting your horse?” she asked as she turned back to continue what she had been do
ing before, finalizing the conversation.

  “Damn. She’s right,” thought Dakkon. “I’ve got to get Nightshade and take off before more bandits show up.”

  Dakkon doubled-back to his horse, untied it, and inspected it for any serious damage, but remarkably there were only scratches, dirt, and certain bruises as reminders of the fast-paced face plant. Dakkon attempted to scavenge from the bandits’ remains, but there was only crude metal and a single tattered shoe, so he left them there as a love letter to the next bandits who would arrive on the scene.

  Dakkon hopped onto a calmed down Nightshade, and set off in the direction of Tian. From his friends window, he checked on Letis—who was now offline—and left a simple message. “I escaped. Sorry. Keep the money, I still have your two plat anyway.”

  Immediately after sending the message, Dakkon realized how insincere it seemed. He should have waited to send a better one, but at that moment all he could think of was that woman directing the obscenely powerful blue orb. Thermomancy definitely wasn’t going to cut it.

  Chapter 17: Boars Aplenty

  As Dakkon neared Tian at a pace which he hoped would be easy for his recently battered horse, he passed by several small shrines, each only a few meters into the woods from the main road way. Each stone shrine appeared ancient, but all were well maintained. Had the ropes that hung around the shrines been originals from the time of construction, then they surely would have fallen to the elements long ago, yet these cords appeared to be sturdy and supple. Upon closer inspection of one such shrine—which was practically on the road—Dakkon found what he suspected to be little offerings of burnt incense, assorted nuts, and little wooden animal figurines—and oddly, all were squirrels. Strange shrines, however, were but the first of Tian’s eccentricities that Dakkon would discover.

  Stretching along outside the large, sturdy walls of Tian, for as far as Dakkon could see, the city was surrounded by hundreds of little stone posts. Each post stood about the height of an average man with some irregularity, and the top fourth was carved by unsigned artisans to portray an animal. The carvings were of widely varied skill, though newer pillars, relatively speaking, were of a finer make than some of earlier design. The creatures Dakkon could see without wandering off course appeared to be common field animals such as a deer, a rabbit, and a squirrel. Aside from traditional, though unevenly-spaced, decoration he had no clue what the totems might be for, but in a world of casting spells, he assumed the archaic could not be so easily discounted. “Possibly some sort of magic-based city defense?” he supposed.

  The guards standing outside of Tian were dressed impressively. They wore dark leather and iron scales, intricately layered and polished to a near-mirror sheen. The budget for the guard seemed a notch above the other cities. However, when compared to Correndin and Derrum, there didn’t seem to be as many beyond the gates. The guards here were not nearly as impressed by his arrival without caravan and stopped him duteously for a brief interrogation. They were official, but polite. When they learned that Dakkon was there looking for adventurer work, one suggested he head to the south end of town to join the krimmer hunts. Dakkon thanked him for the suggestion and with nothing more to bar his passage, continued into the city. Once inside, he expected to see a barracks area for soldiers near the gate, but instead saw a sizable queuing area and side-by-side temples, with another, smaller temple across the street.

  From the closest temple, Dakkon could hear the rhythmic shouts of devoted physical training. “Monks,” thought Dakkon. He was familiar with the class from other games. They were highly agile, often unarmed, combatants tied to a strict set of doctrines. For instance, he had never seen one with hair aside from a bit of facial stubble. Dakkon wondered if the fast-paced fighting style of a monk would be a good fit for him. He did have an open class slot, and he did need to find something combat-focused—but, no. For now, at least, he would wait until he mastered thermomancy. That way, he would have the chance to become any rare class he happened upon. Also, holding off would give him a chance to see what the classes from this region were capable of.

  From the grounds surrounding it, the smaller temple across the street from where the training shouts emanated looked to be in charge of stabling horses. Dakkon figured it best to keep Nightshade stabled while he was in town, and found that although there was no additional grooming service to pay for here, the cost would still be triple what he had been charged in Correndin. Dakkon promised Nightshade that he would visit him within the week and was advised by a none too kind monk that after a month without payment, the stables would acquire his horse and any equipment left with it. He decided to pay for the first week up front to give himself some peace of mind.

  His horse seemed pleased by the guarantee of respite that comes from seeing stables, and after a goodbye pat, Dakkon left the temple for the promised land of good food and fast experience. For once he wasn’t hungry. He had only known Letis for a short period of time, but felt responsible—in part—for his death and subsequent downtime. If they hadn’t needed to leave in such haste, any number of things could have gone differently.

  Dakkon traveled toward the south side of Tian, following the guard’s recommendation. As he walked, he took in the alluring sights of the city. The landscaping was well thought out. Everything looked planned. The route was straightforward. The design—immaculate. Tian appeared to be quite the wealthy city. The streets were lined with flowering trees, their leaves an array of reds, pinks, and white. Each tree was matched by a nearly identical sister tree of the same size and color on the opposite side of the road. The largest intersections were each home to a massive hardwood with unique leaf colors and patterns. The trees served as natural roundabouts, breaking up the flow of traffic. Dakkon was certain they couldn’t have grown naturally to look as striking as they did. The intermittent use of natural beauty to punctuate man’s design made for a flattering scene. Dakkon wondered why this wasn't the capital. Wouldn't the royal family prefer to live here instead of being so close to the slums?

  The streets were clean. The architecture was that of elaborately embellished stone and woodwork. There were no street vendors hawking their wares as far as Dakkon could see, and most passersby were dressed in silk or linen fineries. It was no great task to spot non-locals who stood out by wearing starkly contrasting traveling clothes. This all made finding his destination in the south simple. He just walked, in a straight line, to where he saw a collection of shoddily dressed individuals standing around like beggars while they formed groups. Dakkon walked up to one, asked where he should head to participate in the quest, and was pointed in the direction of a circle of wooden stalls manned by men and women wearing white suits and puffy hats. Dakkon watched as a raggedy adventurer handed a stall attendant a massive hunk of meat, receiving compensation. The hunk of meat was then immediately loaded onto a cart then hastily hauled away by an attendant.

  Dakkon approached a stall without a queue, attended by a woman in white, and asked, “I’m new to the region and am looking for work. Is there anything for me here?”

  “We’ve got enough running boys already. As for the stalls, they’re all manned by experienced cooks like myself, proving we know how to properly appraise ingredients. That’s a position you’d need to be appointed to,” said the woman with neatly tied-back black hair, holding out one hand in a sign of apology. “Sorry.”

  “Ah, I meant more on the ingredient procurement side of things,” said Dakkon.

  “The gathering business around here can be pretty dangerous. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “I’m sure I’d like to try,” replied Dakkon. He had a suspicion that this might be the NPC’s way of telling him he wasn’t at a high enough level to take part.

  “In that case, there’s a bit of a craze for krimmer meat and glands right now,” said the woman.

  “What’s a krimmer?” asked Dakkon.

  “A krimmer is a large black, demon-like boar. They’ve got big tusks for goring anything that
threatens them. They smell worse than old milk, but at the hands of a talented chef they’re transformed into something incredible that gourmands will pay top dollar for. I won’t lie to you, it’s a tough animal to hunt. That’s why you see so many people figuring out who to group with over there,” the woman explained.

  “How much is krimmer meat worth?” asked Dakkon.

  “Hmm? That really depends on the quality. The freshness, the cut, and then not all animals are created equal. You can count on a fair price from any of these stalls, though. The competition of making good appraisals keeps us honest.”

  “Thank you for the help, ma’am,” said Dakkon.

  “No problem at all. Remember, krimmer are dangerous. Also, aside from the meat, someone from these stalls will buy the tusks, fur, and the glands too—they’re delicacies. They turn quick once they’re taken out of the body though, so some like to bring them back after only gathering a few of them. If you find yourself a seasoned group, they should know what to bring back and when.”

  “Thanks again,” said Dakkon, “and good luck with the appraisals,” then he turned to seek out a group.

  As Dakkon walked toward the other players, he felt a tug of excitement to meet new people, see new abilities, experience new fighting styles, and ultimately choose one he liked as a new ‘secondary’ class.

  “Looking for a tank,” he heard a player call out. Dakkon watched and saw that groups of two to four players would sit together talking while another player went around asking the more standoffish individuals in the area if they wanted to group up. There were even a few NPCs sitting among the groups, differentiable thanks to their lack of blue nametags which should be visible in town.

  One player approached Dakkon. “You’re not a tank, I take it?” he asked.

  “Not even close to one. I’m a damage dealer.”