Scrambled Lives
Page 27
Ocelo waved sadly.
If he stayed in empty Galadras, nothing would happen to him. There was no way to earn money here. He’d sit in his room at The Dancing Prince, wander the streets, and twiddle his thumbs until the war was decided one way or another.
If he went to war, something bad could happen. Something good could happen. He didn’t know. An opportunity might arise that he couldn’t foresee, because he didn’t know this game very well yet.
The wagon turned at the corner and rattled away.
“Wait! Wait!”
He ran after it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sundown Castle.
It was fitting that they arrived at sunset, the wagon bumping along the road below the castle atop the high hill. Orange lances of light spread across the sky from the west, striking the stone towers and walls and reflecting off the windows in blinding rays. Tiny figures stood sentry upon the battlements and paced the crenellated parapets.
The natter in the wagon died away as every head turned to the castle. More war wagons from Galadras were ahead of them upon the road, packed to the gills with players. Other players were traveling on foot and staying to the side so the wagons didn’t run them over.
The pair of Level 1 players seated beyond Jenner and Ocelo lowered their heads to resume their conversation. “Like, games always think they’re harder than they actually are!” one said.
“You’re soooo right,” said his companion. “Seriously, the trick to getting through sticky parts is just to keep running. When we get there . . .”
These two had not shut up once since Jenner climbed into the wagon. He was silently calling them the idiot twins, unable to tune out their grating vocal fry. Both were eighteen years old, both were male in the outer-world and in their first year of college, and both sounded like brainless thirteen-year-old girls when they spoke. Which was an insult to most thirteen-year-old girls.
While driving out of Galadras, they bragged to one another at length about how they were not acquiring maps. It was a strange point of pride to them to wing it. Like, real explorers don’t have maps, you know? ZOMG! I never look at game maps. Real explorers make their OWN maps!
Then they moved on to their plan to go to the Fortune Islands immediately, where riches were strewn on the sand and you just had to run past the monsters to pick it up. And they weren’t planning a visit to Easy Street either, but Extreme.
How quickly he had changed from that blithely ignorant visit to Hard Mode, Jenner thought.
They didn’t know anything about anything, nor were they interested in learning more when Rosy said bossily that Extreme was much too hard for them. They had no money, no weapons, no blessings, no combat skills, no glitch teacup to give rude but good advice, no allies but one another, nothing at all. They weren’t ready for Easy Street, let alone Extreme. The guys dismissed the cup completely. After informing them that they couldn’t even afford the fucking boat fare to the Fortune Islands, Rosy turned away to face out of the wagon and watch the world go by in a pride-pricked silence.
It was still facing out now. Jenner knew what the cup was thinking. They would have to learn by getting scrambled, their feet stuck in tar-sand as a flying swarm of red scorpions descended. You just couldn’t help some people. They would play smarter in their next lives. Hopefully.
The mermaid wore a small, private smile as the idiot twins droned on tirelessly below the castle. Jenner was ashamed that she had seen him lose his shit outside the gladiator rings, but there was nothing in her eyes that made it seem like she was holding onto a grudge. Nor was Rosy, for that matter, who returned to Jenner’s shoulder as soon as he sat down in the wagon.
He just wanted to live.
That was what made this so hard. He wanted to live, and there was nothing he could do to help himself. His world was this game, yet this game was the world, and he had no more set the terms of this inner-world than he set the terms of the outer-world.
It was up to chance now. The last time he checked on his upload percentage, he was at 41%. If his body survived the night, he would wake up in the fifties. And then the sixties soon after that, the seventies, perhaps the eighties and more . . .
This was no longer a matter of a few weeks but a few days, yet did his body have those days to spare?
He only slept for a few hours on the sands of Hard Mode; this time, he lost almost a full twenty-four hours. He was truly in the process of dying out there, in a hospital room he had never seen, surrounded by beeping machines and medical staff, his body pumped full of drugs in an attempt to prolong his life. His mom was probably in that room with him, holding his hand and waiting for the end.
41%. It was so much better, yet still so far.
“Like, how do people not make like hundreds of golds by Level 2?” mused an idiot twin.
“They don’t have the guts to take the risk,” his friend said with supreme arrogance.
Jenner rolled his eyes and lost sight of the idiot twins for a memory of his prom. That had been happening on and off during the long drive. Some of the memories were pointless, like where the time clock was at Zoomies. He had no need of that knowledge any longer. Nor did he need to remember his awful prom night. Bad enough that he went stag, since the girl he asked shot him down, but twenty minutes after coming through the door and Big Tyg threw up on the floor from drinking too much. His vomit splattered all over Jenner’s shoes.
Yeah, not everything Jenner remembered were things he wanted to remember.
There had never been a girlfriend in the outer-world, he knew that now, though not for lack of interest or a failure to try. He just hadn’t had much luck in that department. Although he was not a virgin before arriving in Scrambled Lives, he was glad to learn. It happened just once, a happy drunken fumble at a college party in which the girl practically tackled him in an armchair, jerked down his zipper, and informed him that he had a penis and he would be using that penis to take her to Pound Town.
It wasn’t remotely romantic, and the girl was such a sexual freewheeler that the guys called her The Clare Club for Men, but at that moment, what did Jenner care? He dutifully took her to Pound Town and stamped his V-card.
He checked on his upload percentage again as the wagon pulled up the steep grade to the castle. 41.3%.
Congrats! You are arriving at Sundown Castle!
Inner-World News: Sundown Castle has a long and storied history. Originally the wizard stronghold of Sundonia, it was completely destroyed by shifters and demons in the Quellog War. Rebuilt and repurposed by a consortium of dragons, the castle was a point of contention between shifters, wizards, and other races for years. As the boundaries of Talvenor have changed and expanded, Sundown Castle lost its value and became a relic. Abandoned on the hill, the castle may still hold secrets for exploring players.
Fun Fact Time! Magic runs deep within the ground in this forested territory. Don’t miss out on fascinating side quests among the trees. But keep a sharp eye out for creatures of the dark . . . Sundown Forest is not for the new visitor to Talvenor.
“Oh, whatever,” jeered one of the idiot twins. “We should sneak out to the forest tonight and find a side quest. Want to come along?”
He was asking Ocelo. Flirting with her, really, his eyebrow hiked up as his buddy checked her out boldly.
“No, thank you,” Ocelo said.
“Come on! It’ll be fun. You can get skill points for having sex in weird areas in Talvenor.” He gave her a creepy wink. “Like on the back of a flying dragon. Or on the boat ride to the Fortune Islands. I heard you can get one by getting naughty in the High Council’s chambers when they’re not in session. You just have to sneak past the guards to get in.”
“She said no,” Jenner said in annoyance. The mermaid didn’t need protecting when she was so strong and could surely strangle them with her own hair, but it bugged him how they were looking at her. Like this was a sex game. There were plenty of those out there, for God’s sake, games one hundred percent
devoted to getting laid.
They stared at him challengingly for defending her.
He stared back.
They noticed his dagger, and suddenly found the castle fascinating.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Rosy mumbled, its spoon settling back in the cup. It had hopped back to Ocelo’s shoulder to protect her.
Patting the cup fondly, Ocelo looked unperturbed. In a low voice, she said, “Through the scrambler soon, these two.” Her underwater chuckle rolled over Jenner. “They won’t live long.”
As if to prove her point, the wagon passed a bearded man on the side of the road. Leaning upon a cane with a bloody bandage wrapped around his knee, he cried, “Will you help me? Will you help this poor wounded woodcutter? My dear children have gotten lost in the forest and I will reward greatly the person who finds them!”
The driver paid him no mind. In excitement, Idiot Twin #1 elbowed Idiot Twin #2. Scooting down the wagon bed, they slipped out the back to speak to the NPC woodsman.
“What’s the reward? Do you know?” Jenner asked.
“Do you want me to ruin it for you?” Ocelo asked in amusement.
“Ruin it. Ruin the whole thing. I might not ever get to go on that side quest.”
Her amusement changed to sympathy. “I did this one in my werecat days, or perhaps I was an elf then. You follow the children’s faint tracks through the forest and find them trapped on a rock in a rushing river. Reaching them is tricky with the current so strong, and you won’t be able to swim back with them if your stamina is beneath seven points. This isn’t a side quest that Level 1 human players are physically capable of performing. They’ll drown. For players who do return with the children, the woodsman gives over a supply of witchwood.”
“That’s it? Witchwood?”
“Witchwood is valuable to wizards and witches for wand-making. Bear it away and you encounter a wizard or witch wishing to buy it, but both steal it. Better to keep it and sell it at an apothecary in Galadras for five gold coins. Another reason not to go on this quest too early is the amount of witchwood you receive. Your inventory can only take so much weight and so many objects at the early levels, which is fine since you’re not supposed to find much at them.”
Jenner had not seen many opportunities for side quests upon the streets of Galadras, though he hadn’t done much exploring of the city either. A few people called out to him on the way to gladiator school, but he hadn’t stopped to see what they wanted. There wasn’t time to stop for side quests.
Now he wished he had. He wished he had a guarantee of time.
A hand came over his, Ocelo squeezing like she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Could I get scrambled accepting some side quest that I don’t realize is over my head?” he asked to distract himself before he got any more upset than he already was.
She nodded and shook her head in turn. “The game won’t purposely steer you in that direction. Early level human players don’t spawn anywhere near Sundown Castle, so it’s an uncommon new player to encounter that specific side quest. But it happens, just like it did right now.”
She looked ahead to the castle gates, but her mind was behind them. “Yes, they’ve accepted the quest. At sunset, and without an orb light, they begin a one-mile trek into the forest seeking tiny clues as the night creatures stir. They will not live long enough to drown. Better to come to the castle for the silly painting side quest on the third floor where you get a gold for completing it.”
Jenner glanced back. The mermaid was seeing the idiot twins’ acceptance of the quest in the code; they along with the NPC woodsman were out of sight. A shadow passed over the wagon as they went through the gates.
The wagon rattled to a stop within a courtyard. Along the walls was a blind arcade, the arches scorched and gouged from long-ago battles. Wagons of food and weaponry were being unloaded, some people hurrying one way with baskets of bread loaves and fruit while others hefted wrapped swords and ferried them over to a makeshift armory.
Players in full battle gear were shouting out different levels and races. “Level 1s! I want Level 1s, all but elves to me!” “Level 1 elves, through this door!” “Level 2, all but elves! Level 2s, come to me!” “Levels 6 through 10, report to me, all kinds! Are there any Levels 6 through 10 or higher?” “Ice demons! If you’re an ice demon Level 5 and up, this way!” “Shifters!”
“Hey! It’s Dan the Troll!” Rosy said after Jenner dropped out of the wagon.
Standing head and shoulders above everybody else was the troll from Treasure Chest. “Level 3s!” he boomed. “I’m taking Level 3s!” Startled looks abounded among the arriving players: a talking, mentally competent troll was such a queer sight.
“Dan!” Jenner called.
The troll swiveled and looked down to him. “My young friend! I am sorry we have gone to war so fast in your introduction to the game.” Rosy leaped into his big hand and Dan the Troll took out a kerchief to scrub the travel dust off the cup.
“It’s all right, Dan, you didn’t cause the war,” Jenner said.
The troll looked deeply troubled as his dark eyes surveyed the milling players. “To summon you to the castle! To form a battalion of you! You are children in Scrambled Lives, and children do not belong in battle. Do you see this?”
He motioned to a man and woman carrying orange and black striped werekittens, which were a little smaller than cocker spaniels and ten times as adorable. One kitten was fast asleep, fuzzy head tucked under the woman’s chin as she patted it; the other was awake and looking around in consternation, the man murmuring and jiggling it.
“Routed from their den with babies!” Dan the Troll said in anguish. “Babies born just this day! They should not be here, no matter how high-level their den parents are. I cannot believe that demon patrol put them in chains and threw them in the wagon. Baby cats! Baby dragons! Baby bears! A tiny wolf pup that could fit in my pocket! It is appalling beyond words.”
“Is the fighting that bad?” Jenner asked.
Dan the Troll’s shoulders sank. “Yes. I saw it for myself this morning. It is so bad that we will be leaving on dragon-back well before dawn, but first you must be divided into squadrons. The western flank is too thin, the wizards in command tell me, and this children’s battalion must step up to strengthen it. But what can a thousand or so low-level players possibly do to bolster us?”
The kerchief vanished in his fingers. It was replaced by a different kerchief wrapped around a small object. The troll pressed it into Jenner’s palm and whispered conspiratorially, “I bid you take this. Take this, and wear it, and stay in the back. It will protect you a little, if only a little, should matters go astray. But I refuse to think they will.”
“What is it?”
The troll’s whisper dropped further. “The armorers had a big basket full of them earlier, reserved for the human players Levels 10 and up before dragons took them away to the battlefield. I acted . . . I acted without honor, my friend. You will understand why, I believe. Yes. I stole a handful for my brothel workers, the ones who are perma-added characters, since they came here to battle. Many are between Level 6 and Level 9, dear friends all. I have this one left.”
Jenner had no idea what the troll was talking about, but he nodded. “Thank you.”
“The battle will be driven away from the west, so the game gods willing, you will have no use for it. But if the winds of fate blow foul . . . do not hesitate to take what you need from the fallen, as discourteous as that is. I will say no more.”
Dan the Troll returned Rosy and faded into the crowds to shout for Level 3s.
“What the fuck was that about?” Rosy exclaimed.
Jenner unwrapped the object. Hanging from a black cord was a stone disc, a knot design polished to gleaming around the hole in the middle. “Is this a . . .”
The teacup inhaled sharply. “He swiped a fistful of blessings from that basket!”
“What is this one? Does it increase my health?”
“Then what’s the point?”
The cup scoffed. “A troll won’t be wearing a counter-charm amulet, you idiot! Trolls can’t use blessings. Put it on and slip it under your shirt.”
“Why do I have to hide it? You just said it’s extremely common and not very powerful! Who the fuck cares if I’m wearing one?”
Losing its temper, Rosy whacked him in the ear with the spoon. “How many of the others have an Ichelen blessing?”
Jenner scanned the players within the courtyard. The men and women dividing up the new arrivals were all upper-level players, which was obvious from the good-quality armor and weapons they wore. Dan the Troll aside, they appeared to be human. All of them had cords and chains tangled around their necks, and identical stone discs were in the clutter of amulets upon their chests. Most wore gold-wired Oderi amulets, just like Master Tosco, to increase their HP by five.
Of the lower-level players being organized into groups, ninety-nine percent of them had no blessings whatsoever. Which was understandable, since the amulets cost more than any new player could afford, and some were so wet behind the ears to this world that it was doubtful they knew what blessings were.
To an upper-level player, there was nothing to envy in Jenner having this common amulet. It wasn’t worth stealing since they all had their own, or amulets that were better. But to the mass of Level 5s and down all around him? This blessing was something to greatly covet. Just like a silver once seemed like an amazing sum of money when all Jenner had was five pence, the amulet would attract attention that he didn’t want.
The teacup was right. Jenner hated that. He put on the blessing and stuffed the stone disc down his shirt.