Rescuing Roxy: A GameLit Harem Fantasy Adventure for Men

by Albion, Rex

  Rescuing Roxy

  A GameLit Harem Fantasy Adventure for Men

  Rex Albion

  Copyright © 2021 by Rex Albion

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  https://rexalbion.wixsite.com/home

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Epilogue

  Author Notes

  About the Author

  Prologue

  It was a bright sunny day, and the air was calm. Vandal Lionheart sprang like a deer across a bubbling brook, landing sure-footed in the loamy soil on the opposite bank. His sandalled feet left a deep impression in the soft earth as he surged away from the water.

  He had the body of an action movie star. Muscular thighs, thick arms, bulging shoulders, and muscles across his back that rippled like snakes under his skin when he moved.

  He was every inch, the perfect barbarian. From his muscular action-hero physique and gymnastic agility to the dark locks of his hair and smouldering eyes, Vandal looked the part. It was the clothing that really sold it.

  If you had seen him decked out in a skin-tight green and yellow suit carrying a three-pronged spear, he would have looked like the heir to Atlantis. In uniform trousers and covered in camouflage paint, he would have looked like a military search and rescue specialist on a mission in South America.

  Vandal Lionheart was neither of those things though, and as he made his way swiftly through the light undergrowth and jogged deeper into the forest, following the trail before him, he wondered what anyone seeing him would think. Would they dwell on his rippling muscles and catlike grace? Or would they see his loincloth, simple boots, and chest harness and dismiss him as yet another barbarian brute?

  It wasn’t his problem either way. Right now, he had only two problems on his mind. Completing the quest that he had accepted from Captain Myers of the Tinshire Town Watch, was the first of them. It was, though, by no means the most important thing on his mind, even if the rumours of missing people were true.

  Vandal’s mind was focused on one problem, and one problem only. When and where would he find a shirt large enough to fit him, and solve his most pressing issue? Sure, the leather harness that criss-crossed his chest made him look the part of the barbarian hero, even if the Rusty Gladius he bore was a worthless antique that had seen better days and did a mighty 1-2 damage. He didn’t mind the second-hand, simple weapon.

  He didn’t even mind that the harness left him half-naked in the warm spring weather of the New Albion starter area. That just meant the light breeze that brought the smells of the forest to him, could also keep his sweat under control.

  Having his nipples chafed raw by the leather, now that, he minded.

  * * *

  Tiny birds flitted from tree to tree chirping out their latest update like a hundred opinionated celebrities. Under cover of their cacophony, Vandal cautiously approached the quest location on his mini-map, seeking out the area that Captain Myers had asked him to investigate.

  According to the grizzled military veteran, a few townsfolk and merchants had gone missing while travelling through the forest and there had been somewhat dubious sightings of robed figures in the area. He wanted to know if there really was a cult of some kind out here or if it was just tall tales. If there were troublemakers in the forest, Myers wanted them dealt with.

  Vandal didn’t care either way. It was a quest, and he was here to go on adventures, slay foul demons, eat banquets fit for a king, quaff ale, and tumble tavern wenches until he’d had his fill. He’d accepted the quest, Culling the Cult, before the captain had even finished explaining and set out immediately to complete it without reading the description.

  With a title like that, it didn’t seem likely that he’d find out they were all out here fishing at a secret lake to avoid their shrewish wives or got lost in the woods. It kind of removed the mystery calling that, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. Vandal would simply prove himself by completing the quest for newbies and use the experience to learn how to play the game. It wasn’t going to be more than a footnote in the story of his time in New Albion.

  A bunch of level one cultists were surely no match for an Awoken player like him. Even if all he had to face them with was an uncomfortable and redundant chest harness, cheap boots, a loincloth and a rusty gladius, that didn’t look like it had started out as a high-quality example of craftsmanship but did look like it had been stored in a leaky shed for twenty years and possibly used as a gardening tool.

  From his vantage point he had a good view of the target once his slow progress brought him to the edge of the tall ferns that concealed him. About sixty yards away was a tall cliff, the side of a large hill it seemed, and it was dotted with saplings, tufts of grass and vines.

  At the base of the cliff was a large cave entrance, that yawned open exactly as a cave should, but could rarely be bothered to do in real life. Two black robed cultists slouched against the cliff, one on either side of the heavy wooden door they were guarding. Both had hefty looking quarterstaffs for weapons.

  They weren’t vicious looking fighters or anything, but those staves were as thick as a man’s wrist and heavy with it. From what he’d read about the level of pain simulation in the game, Vandal had ample reason to avoid getting smacked with one even by these low-level locals. He had too much experience in VR games and roleplaying sessions to be fooled into a headlong attack.

  Even with his powerful legs, he wasn’t going to clear the distance fast enough to catch them unawares. It’d be like King Arthur charging the French invaders in the castle after they insulted his parentage. By the time he got there, his stamina would have drained, and they’d be ready to give him a kicking, sending him back to the graveyard.

  There was no way that Conrad Cabot, scion of the Vermont Cabot’s, owners of the infamous Cabot Forestry and Mineral Company would die like a noob at first level. Even if a somewhat brash playing style had brought about that exact consequence in dozens of new games over his old life.

  Well, no more! He was entering into a whole new life now, in a very real sense and Vandal, as he trie
d to think of himself, was going to be his alter-ego. Conrad was going to fully embrace life as Vandal Lionheart. Adventurer. Barbarian. Hero.

  His first goal was to make it to at least level ten before his first death. Vandal paused for a second, rocked his head from side to side as he did some rudimentary consideration of his chances and squared his shoulders.

  He was going to make it to at least level three before his first death! Yes, that felt better. Much less ambitious. No need to set yourself up for disappointment. Vandal had tried hardcore gaming, but soon realised that it suited only a very small niches of players.

  What he needed was a plan to ensure that Vandal’s first quest was a success. That and a halfway decent shirt and some nipple salve. Instead, he backed off slowly, careful not to disturb the ferns too much or break any fallen branches that might signal his presence.

  Then he skirted to the east of the cliff, scouting the area for any kind of advantage he could exploit. What he needed was the advantage of surprise. If he could get above them, maybe he could gain the upper hand when he attacked.

  It took a while for him to progress through the dense undergrowth, because he’d learned fairly quickly that tangling with brambles was a completely different kettle of fish if you had no trousers or jacket. Finally, he found another cliff face that was part of the same rocky outcrop and aside from being far enough from the guards that they couldn’t see or hear him, it had another advantage.

  Thick vines grew all the way up it. Vandal grinned and made the climb swiftly, his strong arms pulling him up and his feet finding easy purchase among the sturdy plants. The cliff was vertical but no more than thirty feet he guessed, taller than where the cave pierced the outcrop but not vertiginous.

  He was soon at the top and the rest of the way up was more like a steep hike on a rocky hill than climbing. From atop the weathered granite, he had a commanding view out over the forest. Vandal could see smoke rising from villages and towns across the landscape and the hint of sea to the west. But he wasn’t here to admire the view, he was here to complete his quest.

  Vandal wandered around the plateau a bit, just in case there was anything interesting. He did find a ruin of sorts, some remnants of walls that could have been huts, and a large circular pattern that suggested a tower to him. There wasn’t enough room for crops up here, but he guessed someone once built a watchtower up here, to protect some ancient forest kingdom. Elves, he guessed. Just from the forest connection rather than anything else.

  Giving up on finding anything else, he made his way to the edge again and circled back in the opposite direction, peering over to find a route down. From the ground he’d seen that the cliff above the cave wasn’t a sheer cliff. It looked to him like he’d be able to get down if he was careful.

  Sure enough, his eyes hadn’t been deceived by the perspective from ground level. He found the way down to a level high enough to do some damage to the guards when he leapt down, and not so high he’d come too in the graveyard anyway.

  New Skill: Stealth. You have gained a new skill, through in game actions. 50 XP

  The notification arrived as text and a voiceover from a female narrator he could only describe as sultry. Not that that was necessarily the correct word for it, but it certainly fitted in his mind. There was additional information available, and it was good to know the game would reward him for sneaking around or doing other things that he didn’t have specific skills for as a Barbarian.

  There was more info he could read attached to the notification in his user interface, but he would read it later. There wasn’t likely to be much about a basic stealth skill that he couldn’t already guess so he dismissed it and concentrated on the fun bit of gameplay

  Without making a sound, he jumped from his perch above the two guards, His feet landed neatly on the shoulders of the one on the left, and his powerful and therefore heavy frame did the rest. The guard crumpled to the floor and an icon indicating he was stunned appeared next to the title that floated above his head when Vandal looked at him.

  Stunned: Target unable to act for one round!

  Surprise Attack: 5 damage!

  The bold and colourful combat text popped up for a fraction of a second, just long enough for him to register it and then an animation swept it to the right of his screen while it faded away into nothing. His combat log recorded the text in a small window on the right of his HUD, where he could review it later if he needed to.

  It was quite in your face, but Vandal was sure he could tweak it to his personal taste and only display messages he found useful. He could hide the log itself if he didn’t use it, and the same went for the experience and quest logs. As such things went, he thought the New Albion developers had done a fantastic job of giving him useful information, without obstructing the gameplay.

  The move robbed the cultist of half his health bar, but Vandal didn’t pause. He was already moving the moment he hit the ground, slashing his rusty blade into the neck of the second guard before he could register, he was under attack.

  Surprise Attack: 5 damage!

  The surprise attack bonus was double the max damage of his starter weapon, for the bonus alone and left the guard with only a third of his health bar intact. Because the second guard wasn’t stunned by having a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound barbarian drop on him from considerable height, Vandal slashed at him again. The cultist hadn’t even raised his weapon to defend himself, before he collapsed to the ground, bleeding out.

  Vandal turned his head and saw the first guard was now trying to struggle to his feet. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he pirouetted gracefully, spinning around and delivering a neat strike to the guard’s neck, enhanced by the fluid movement of his body.

  Critical Strike: +5 damage!: New Finishing Move: You have unlocked a new finishing move, Whirling Decapitation! 50 XP!

  You killed two Cultists (lvl 1). 20 XP

  Vandal grinned. He’d half expected to break his ankles or miss entirely and get beaten up or sent to the graveyard for his risky attack, but instead, the game was rewarding him for being cunning enough to launch a surprise attack and stylish enough to show off with unnecessarily flashy moves. He’d even got his first crit.

  Fans of flashy wire-Fu martial arts films were going to love this game; it would play right into their favourite fictional techniques. He was pretty sure if he’d tried that in real life, he’d have fallen over or dropped the weapon, but his barbarian persona handled it perfectly.

  He listened at the cave mouth, but the cultists hadn’t had a chance to do much more than grunt and gurgle before they died so he didn’t hear any sounds of their friends rushing to avenge them.

  Feeling safe enough for now, Vandal opened up the notification about the finishing move, and read the information. From now on, if he used a finishing move that successfully ended an opponent’s life, but also looked cool, he’d get a bonus to the experience for that kill.

  Whirling Decapitation was the first of many he could unlock, the text said. It wasn’t a skill that he could just trigger, he had to actually act it out to get the extra 10% experience reward. Only through experimentation would he discover more, and the notes made it clear this was a reward for showing a bit of panache. Simply stabbing the enemy or hacking at them with an axe wasn’t nearly impressive enough to earn a special ability.

  He wondered if he could have leapt down with his sword in both hands and impaled the first guard, would that have immediately killed him and opened up a different finishing move? Already he was trying to imagine what stylish ways to kill things he should try next. It certainly encouraged a more cinematic style of combat, and he knew that bonus would seem hardly worth it to some players, but that it would add up over time.

  Wiping his gladius clean, he sheathed it and picked up the bodies, dropping them among the ferns. They wouldn’t be hard to find, but it might buy him a little time if new guards came to replace them. He carried the head by the hair, rather than flinging it, dropping it with the bod
ies before he searched them.

  New Skill: Concealment. You have gained a new skill through in-game actions. 50 XP

  Vandal clicked on that notification and learned that he would now start to earn skill points toward hiding things from other players and the locals. Things like bodies that might tip off the guards or treasure you couldn’t carry and hoped to come back for later. The more he did it, the better his Concealment would get and the higher their Perception would have to be to find something.

  The text warned him that plenty of monsters had special senses, so certain objects couldn’t be hidden well from them. It was hard to hide fresh meat from a wolf, for instance, but a treasure chest would be meaningless to them. Nor did it prevent active and thorough searches from finding something, which meant it wasn’t proof against players who were looking for something. Their user interface wouldn’t highlight a hidden body if their Perception couldn’t defeat his Concealment though.

  For the time being, Vandal reckoned this would probably be most useful on stealthy missions where you didn’t want to activate a high alert level of the guards and risk getting swamped.