by Quinn Dallas
The AI seemed determined to thwart my attempts. But I could not give up! No matter what I would return home. The nights spent with Bashir eased my loneliness. While I knew he was nothing but a construct, I couldn't help but wonder about his self-awareness. He seemed like a whole complete person. With the wants, emotions, and desires of any living being. In fact, all the NPC's within this simulation were breathtakingly real.
The sights, sounds, smells. All it more vivid than my experiences in the waking world. Yet, I knew it was cheat. A complex system created by an Alien computer bound and determined to study me for it's own purposes. I knew this, but I was developing real feelings for Bashir. He seemed more real than any man I'd ever known. His vibrant passions and sometimes volatile ways only made me love him even more. It was if he was tailor-made from my deepest desires.
All good things must come to an end. And that end arrived one fateful evening in the appearance of an uninvited guest. The black coach pulled into our courtyard. Drawn by six strong looking ebony colored stallions. When the door opened out stepped the last person I'd expect to see.
The Lady Marcella. The servants were besides themselves when she appeared. We rarely had guests, but the arrival of a woman of such high stature was unusual.
“No you stupid girl,” Nadine called out to the newest household servant. “Don't put salt in the batter!”
I'd walked in to find the compound's kitchen buzzing with activity. Nadine wiped the sweat from her brow and then spoke. “I'm so glad you're here!”
“What's the matter?” I asked her.
“I realize you are now the Lady of the house,” she continued. “But no one knows my recipes like you do!”
“Of course I'd be happy to help out!” I responded. Soon I'd busied myself with the kitchen preparations. Overseeing the cooking and instructing the newer servants busied my afternoon. We prepared a lavish feast for the Lady Marcella. Which should rival anything she'd ever experienced in Nadir City.
The truth was part of me, wanted to show off my new station in life. I had risen from mere servant to the mate of a high born warrior. , even Marcella would have to show me respect. I couldn't have been more wrong.
That evening we all sat down to dinner. Marcella sat opposite my handsome Half-Orc, while I occupied a seat next to him. The servants brought out elegant platters piled high with delicious food. Yet, the Lady Marcella didn't' touch her meal. Finally, Bashir spoke.
“Is the food not to your liking, Duchessin?”
“Forgive me,” she replied. “I've not much of an appetite.”
“Are you not feeling well?” I asked.
She paused and then stared. The look of pure hatred in her eyes both shocked and angered me. How dare she mistreat me in my own home. She may be one the high-born of Nadir City. But in the desert, Bashir and I were royalty.
“There is no hiding it then,” she said. “I've come here to air a grievance!”
“A grievance against who?” Bashir asked.
'Against you and your lady of course!” She replied with a twisted smile.
'WHAT POSSIBLE WRONGS could we have done you?" Bashir pounded his fist on the table.
"Would you like me to list them?" The Lady Marcella arched an eyebrow.
"Please do!" I interrupted.
The crimson-skinned woman locked eyes with me and her tone sharpened. "For one, you murdered Tavarikh!"
"That was self-defense," my Half-Orc roared. "In mortal combat!"
"So you say," she continued. "The fact remains that you seized his property and men for your own!"
"As is my right!" Bashir countered.
"How convenient," she purred. "You've doubled your fortunes."
"Do not insult me at my own table!" The Half-Orc's face darkened. "If you have grievance with me. Then I suggest you speak with the Council Leader."
"Yes, I've spoken to my father," she spat. "He insists that your killing of Tavarikh was lawful."
"Then I'm vindicated!" Bashir interrupted her. "And I have no reason to entertain more of your insults!"
"Did you know that Tavarikh was much more than my head slaver?" she continued.
"What has that to do with us?" I answered.
"He was my lover as well," Marcella continued. "The only male worthy of my affections and also betrothed to me!"
"We are sorry for your loss Duchessin," I glared at her. "But considering how we met, you'll excuse my lack of sympathy."
"You've risen quite far haven't you?" She replied. "I would say you owe this luxurious life you lead to me."
My face reddened. "If not for your oaf of a mate! I would've have returned to my home!"
"Were I never to have laid eyes on your wretched Daystar hide!" she spat. "Your kind is a curse to all who behold them!"
"That is ENOUGH!" Bashir rose to his feet. "Your time as guest in our home has ended!"
"I'm not finished," Marcella's voice remained calm. "I came here to issue a challenge, as is my right."
"I'll not battle a woman!" Bashir shook his head.
"Not you," she continued. "My challenge is for your precious Arwyn!"
I raised my eyebrows, "Trial by combat? On what grounds?"
"The formal petition has already been filed," she narrowed her eyes. "Because of you I have lost my best slaver. For this my fortunes have suffered. Also, you murdered my fiance- and his wealth you now hold!"
"You will leave now!" Bashir commanded.
I mulled over my options. I could ignore the Lady Marcella's challenge. In doing so I would lose face with the other nobles. Also, Bashir might suffer a loss in social standing as well. He would appear soft and vulnerable. No, I knew the rules of the game. This was a ritualistic culture, where honor mattered more than life itself. If I were to survive here, I must stand on my own.
"Challenge accepted!" I stood tall.
Bashir bit his lip and looked away. He couldn't object to my accepting Marcella's battle challenge. I knew he wasn't happy with it- but the honor of our house relied on this. Something I was certain that damned Marcella had counted on. Were our house to lose honor among the desert Orcs and Tieflings- it could spell danger for us all.
"Well then," she nodded. "Tomorrow morning we will duel!"
With all the courage I could muster I spoke, "I'm looking forward to it!"
DUEL ACCEPTED: YOU HAVE BEEN CHALLENGED TO A DUEL BY THE DUCHESSIN MARCELLA. THIS TRIAL BY COMBAT INCLUDES THE RISK OF SUFFERING FATAL INJURIES.
"BASHIR," I PLEADED. "You haven't spoken a word all night."
The Half-Orc sat on the edge of our bed. He turned towards me and spoke, "You can't fight her!"
"Why not?" I said.
"Marcella has trained for battle since childhood!" he answered.
"I have skills of my own," I puffed out my chest. If you counted all my tabletop RPG battles, I just as skilled a warrior as Marcella. Of course I had no idea how to explain that to Bashir. I knew he thought me soft, but I'd been going over my Courtesan skills since the closure of the portal. I was agile, fast, and had the ability to placate. Any target of my placate skill would find themselves momentarily unable to attack me. This allowed me to land a devastating first strike.
"I'm with you in all things" he continued. "But you are not a fighter!"
"She challenged the honor of our house!" I swelled with indignation. Everything in this game had become so real to me. In some ways, I worried that I was losing myself to Arwyn. Amy, was becoming more and more of distant memory the longer I spent here.
"We can make reparations to her," he shook his head. "You don't have to fight!"
"How safe will we be if the other tribes consider us weak?" I countered.
Bashir balled his fists and grunted in frustration. I knew he desperately wanted to smash something or someone. I sat next to him and placed a hand on knee.
"I will beat her!" I spoke with confidence, "And she will regret ever challenging me."
"I believe in you!" Bashir grinned wide. "But I think
I need to go for a walk!"
"Take a walk!," I smiled kindly. "It's a beautiful night!"
Bashir gripped my hand and then left the room. I was now alone contemplate my plans for the next day's duel. I summoned my HUD display and scrolled thought my stats:
NAME: ARWYN
RACE: DAYSTAR ELF
PRIMARY CLASS: BARD
SUBCLASS: COURTESAN
FIGHTING SKILL: AVERAGE
At first glance none of this seemed impressive. I mentally selected the ATTRIBUTES & SKILLS Tab. The following attributes appeared:
DEXTERITY: EXCELLENT (+2)
STRENGTH: AVERAGE (+0)
CONSTITUTION: AVERAGE (+0)
ENDURANCE: EXCELLENT (+3)
INTELLIGENCE: AVERAGE (+0)
WISDOM: AVERAGE (+0)
CHARISMA: ASTOUNDING (+3)
Charisma was my strongest attribute. Which translated into the ability to beguile others. If this were a matter of subterfuge- I'd have Marcella beat. But it wasn't it was a contest of raw skill. I tapped the floating screen with my finger to summon up the SKILLS:
FIGHTING SKILL: AVERAGE (+0)
DAGGER WIELD: EXCELLENT (+2)
BEGUILE: ASTOUNDING (+3)
SURPRISE ATTACK: EXCELLENT(+2)
DISGUISE: EXCELLENT (+2)
So I excelled at close range surprise attacks and confusing my enemies. That was something, I just needed to one chance to take Marcella out. A long drawn out fight would be the end of me. But a quick attack of burst damage could leave me victorious. The Courtesan class was mixture of Bard and Rogue. Designed mostly for reconnaissance and disguise. None of those skills would be helpful in a close melee combat. Dagger Wield, Surprise Attack, and Beguile could serve me well.
The daggers in my garter could serve as both melee and ranged weapons. That was it! I would have to strike hard and fast- at the beginning of the fight! If I struck Marcella with thrown dagger attacks, she should go down quickly. It couldn't be easy, could it?
The risks being if I fumbled those attack rolls. Then Marcella, would have the advantage. If she trained in melee weapons with a higher fighting score- well that would spell trouble. I cursed myself for not looking up stats during our confrontation over dinner. For better or worse, I committed to this. It had never dawned on me to contemplate death in the VR-World. If I died here, what exactly would happen to me? If this word followed MMO rules, then it's likely I would just respawn somewhere. But what if the alien AI was playing by another set of rules. Everything so far felt shockingly real. There was pain, danger, and even pleasure. What if real and permanent death existed here too? Shaken I blew turned down the oil lamp next to the bed. There would be time enough to worry tomorrow. Like it or not I would face Duchessin Marcella in a fight to the death. I didn't plan on losing!
THE DAY OF THE BATTLE arrived. I woke that morning and went to the courtyard. Lovingly, I strapped my four-blade garter-holster to my thigh. Then I practiced pulling and throwing them as rapidly as possible. Four strikes. With each dagger hit shaving five percent of a target's hit points- it would be all I needed.
The unknown factor was Marcella's fighting skills. She was a Tiefling which meant the woman was devious. I slowly mulled over all the RPG lore stored in my memory. While the reality constructed for me followed basic RPG conventions- there were noticeable divergences. I had to be ready.
"Good to see your aim is true!" I spun around to find Nadine standing there. The Hidari woman put both hands on her hips. "You'll need it to win against the Duchessa!"
In the past the AI had used Nadine to give me valuable information. So I assumed questioning her was the wisest thing to do. "What do you know about her?"
"Don't mistake her for a spoiled princess," Nadine wagged her finger. "Her family runs most of the organized crime in the Blighted Lands."
"So she's tough?" I asked.
"Like all of Kimmel's spawn," Nadine continued. "She's been trained in the martial arts."
"What can I do to beat her?"
The old woman paused. I could sense new information was being transmitted to her. I waited patiently for her response.
"Forgive me," she sighed. "I fear my memory isn't what it used to be. Stay at ranged, that's your strength! Like most Gang Bosses she will stick to hard hitting melee attacks."
My heart sank, what was I thinking. As a courtesan, I wasn't built withstand a lot of punishment. It sounded like the The day of the battle arrived. I woke that morning and went to the courtyard. Lovingly, I strapped my four-blade holster to my thigh. Then I practiced pulling and throwing them as rapidly as possible. Four strikes. With each dagger hit shaving five percent of a target's hit points- it would be all I needed.
I slowly mulled over all the RPG lore stored in my memory. Recalling everything I knew about the Tiefling race. While the reality constructed for me followed basic RPG conventions- there were noticeable divergences. I had to be ready.
"Good to see your aim is true!" I spun around to find Nadine standing there. The Hidari woman put both hands on her hips. "You'll need it to beat the Duchessin!"
In the past the AI had used Nadine to give me valuable information. So I assumed questioning her was the wisest thing to do. "What do you know about her?"
"Don't mistake her for a spoiled princess," Nadine wagged her finger. "Her family runs most of the organized crime in the Blighted Lands."
"So she's tough?" I asked.
"Like all of Kimmel's spawn," Nadine continued. "She's been trained in the martial arts."
"What can I do to beat her?"
The old woman paused. I could sense new information was being transmitted to her. I waited patiently for her response.
"Forgive me," she sighed. "I fear my memory isn't what it used to be. Stay at ranged, that's your strength! Like most of the Kimmel's she will stick to hard hitting melee attacks."
My heart sank, what was I thinking. As a courtesan, I wasn't built withstand a lot of punishment. It sounded like the Duchessin could dish out a great deal of pain.
"Anything else, my wise friend?"
"Fight dirty," she winked. Then she produced a shallow blade and held it out for me.
"What's this?" I took a step closer.
"See this furrow down the middle of the dagger?" She pointed to the deep groove.
"I don't understand." I replied
"It's a Hidari Courtesan's assassination dagger!" she grinned wide. "You pour poison in here, and it coats the tip of the blade."
Poison! That seemed so devious and cunning. Would such an act be seen as dishonorable by my newly adopted Orc clan?
"You must play to your strengths," Nadine counseled. "Seduction, misdirection, and yes treachery!" She held the blade out for me to take.
I took the dagger and gripped it tightly. It dawned on me that I must embrace who Arwyn was fully if I were to survive in this new reality. Did I want to escape, yes! But if death here mean my real word death- then I must win my battle with Marcella at all costs. I mulled over Arwyn's skills- the old woman was right. If I played fair, the Duchessin would tear me to shreds. Like it or not- I must truly become Arwyn. In all that she was. Which meant her using every trick and skill in my arsenal. The Duchessin could dish out a great deal of pain. One false move on my part meant certain death. There was no backing down now. Would I be able to win?
Chapter 11
The hour of the duel drew closer. To say I was nervous was an understatement. The honor of my new clan and my future well-being depended on my beating the Duchessin Marcella in a fight to the death. I strapped my garter of daggers to my thigh. The four blades snugly held in their holsters. The larger poison blade gifted to me by Nadine was worn at my side. Did I really have to through with this? The game seemed to enjoy giving me challenges that furthered my immersion in a fantasy world. First, the very real emotion I felt for Bashir.
He was everything I ever fantasized about in a lover. The idea of parting with him was torture, but I knew I couldn't stay forever. I w
ould defeat Marcella. And I would continue looking for another game master. They were here hidden in this world. That means I could find one and use it to exit this unearthly simulation. An entire life waited for me outside this world- and I intended to live long enough to enjoy it.
"Arwyn?" Bashir's questioning voice brought me out my own thoughts.
"Yes, " I spoke softly. I knew that Bashir was worried about the duel.
"I can't lose you today!" he blurted out. "No matter what, you must defeat Marcella."
"Is there a doubt that I will?" I replied.
"Honestly, yes." he paused. "I love you, but that fear is eating away at me”.
I took his hand and looked into his beautiful eyes. "I love you too."
The sincerity of my declaration to him struck me. I was declaring my undying love to an illusion. Bashir wasn't real. But truth was, I did love him. I knew in my heart of hearts that he was a self-aware being. Did it matter that some alien computer created him from scraps of information found in my mind? Yet, I also knew that my leaving this world could very well mean its destruction. The AI had created this world and all the people in it, from my thoughts. What would happen to them if I were to leave. Would they fade away and simply cease to exist? Did my very escape doom them all? Even worse, if were to die, would they die too? Not matter what I would beat the Duchessin. Leaving Bashir and I to have whatever time we could with one another. That's all that mattered.
I pulled away from him, "It's time!"
Bashir didn't say a word. He looked grim and fearsome. My gruff Half-Orc lover had prepared himself for whatever was next. Taking the lead I went to the courtyard. A mixed crowd of Tieflings, Orcs, and Hidari had gathered. A circle had been drawn on the ground with white chalk. Various arcane symbols were painted around the perimeter .