Outpost: A LitRPG Adventure (Monsters, Maces and Magic Book 1)

by Terry W. Ervin II

  With his head on the pillow, the exhausted gnome was out before he could ponder another thought.

  Chapter 8

  Shadows crossing his face snapped Glenn from his slumber. He sat up with a start, trying to orient himself. The sight of Stephi standing between the lumpy cots brought him back to reality—or the reality of his situation.

  He groaned and sat up.

  Stephi turned toward him and whispered, “Upset you didn’t wake up a minute sooner?” A teasing smile played across her face.

  His eyes widened as he realized she’d just finished buttoning up her blouse. It hung loose around the waist, until she tucked it in. Obviously the off-white garment wasn’t sewn for her figure, but at least the shirt’s buttons didn’t pucker, creating gaps.

  “This is my spare outfit Lysine and Kalgore picked up for me.” She signaled with a tip of her head to the bed behind her. Kalgore lay upon it, breathing steadily. His feet dangling over the end didn’t appear to bother him.

  Glenn looked around. A pair of large wooden buckets filled with water sat on the floor near Stephi’s bare feet.

  “Just finished washing up,” she said.

  Glenn hadn’t noticed she’d pulled her wet hair into a long pony tail. He looked away, embarrassed that his eyes had focused on her face and chest, knowing that if he kept staring he might get aroused. That’d really be embarrassing.

  She’d braced the door closed with the two-by-four, and pushed open the narrow window’s shutter. Roosting on the sill was her blue jay, Petie.

  “You don’t wake up fast, do you, Jax?” Stephi shrugged and sat down next to him, her knees extending upward. The low-set cot exaggerated the effect, making it look like a teenager sitting on toddler furniture. “Seems elves don’t sleep much. Be great for pulling all-nighters.”

  Glenn’s mind raced, going back to Grimes Hall and all that led up to him arriving in the weird, somewhat parallel, universe. “You mind if I wash up?”

  “Not at all. Left bucket has a bar of strong lye soap next to it. Other one is for rinsing.”

  “You’re taking this pretty well in stride.”

  “Sharing the wash water?” she teased. “Already used it to wash my other set of pants and blouse.”

  Glenn followed her gaze to several hooks on the wall where they hung, dripping. Next to them leaned Kim and Ron’s spears.

  “Not really,” Stephi continued, still keeping her voice low. “Biding my time.” She leaned back on the bed. “My dad told my mom that while working his way up the corporate ladder.”

  Glenn removed his leather jerkin and tunic and set them aside. The water was cold and refreshing.

  “Easier to do from your end than mine,” Glenn said.

  Stephi sat up straight. “How so?”

  “Well, you’re a tall, beautiful beyond measure elf.”

  She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them. “With a rack beyond measure.”

  “Better than qualifying as an extra in a Wizard of Oz remake.” He didn’t add that she wasn’t exactly getting turned on by his pint-sized, hairy chest.

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence while Glenn took off his boots and socks and began washing the latter, he asked, “Where’s Gurk and Lysine?”

  Apparently still caught on the track of their previous conversation, Stephi commented, “At least you’re not like Gurk. Why would anyone choose to be like that?”

  Glenn shrugged, trying to ignore the lingering ache in his leg.

  “Oh,” Stephi continued. “After Lysine healed Gurk, they went down to the tavern to eat and then planned on scouting the places to carry out Gurk’s plan.”

  “How much money do we need?”

  She shrugged. “They say the court officials put a gem with a preserve spell on Byeol’s body so that it doesn’t decay. At least until tomorrow when we go pick it up.”

  She gazed out the window. “I listened while Lysine, Kalgore and Gurk planned. I listened but didn’t quite understand.”

  Glenn wrung out his socks. “Nobody bothered to wake me up?”

  “You were snoring up a storm,” she said, holding up a hand to stall further protest. “How much could you have added? You know hardly more than I do about this game…universe we’re stuck in.”

  “I would’ve wanted to hear what they said, even if I didn’t fully understand.” He threw the socks down on the floor. “If nothing else, how are we supposed to learn?”

  “I’m sorry, Jax.” She leaned forward, stretching out her long arm to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I should’ve woke you up.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” he said, meeting her gaze. He saw regret in her eyes, but wasn’t ready to let his complaint go. “None of them bothered to get me up either.”

  She sat back while he put on his tunic and jerkin. Then he went over to the pile of over-stuffed satchels and backpacks, next to the sack of goblin weapons. He dug around until he found his other pair of socks.

  After wandering back and wiping his feet, and putting the clean pair of socks and his boots on, he said, “So what was the verdict?”

  Stephi sighed. “I guess we have to go find a church of some sort that has a high enough ranked cleric to perform a Revive the Dead Spell. But we don’t have anywhere near enough money for that. So we’ll probably have to find out how much we need for a Tether Spell, giving us more time to get enough gold to bring Byeol back.”

  That just sounded weird—no bizarre. Glenn saw Kim die. Saw her lifeless body wrapped and carried in the wagon. He shook his head. No weirder than him being a gnome and able to heal wounds dealt out by real live goblins and an ogre, and a medieval street thug.

  Glenn went and picked up his shield and fiddled with the straps. Talking to Stephi was like being next to a super model—one on beauty steroids. She’d rolled 4 sixes. That allowed her with her elf bonus to get past the 18 max score. He didn’t think she realized what that meant. She just thought she was super tall with super boobs, and forgot about the super-hot aspect. If he was doing something to distract himself from looking up at her, it was easier. “Any estimate? Gurk told me there were tables in the rule books that listed standard prices.”

  “Stuff for spells is in the Game Master’s Guide,” Stephi said. “Gurk had read through one a couple of times but never owned one. All three agreed in previous adventures they’d played, it’d be like nine or ten thousand gold coins.”

  Glenn frowned, recalling what he had wrapped in a handkerchief in his pocket. “No way could we steal that much. All of us couldn’t carry that much.” Then he thought. “Gems have value, greater in comparison ounce for ounce than gold. I took a skill in appraising gems.”

  “Sounds like we’ll need a miracle,” Stephi said.

  “Maybe this world has a Miracle Max,” Glenn said with a grin.

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.” He walked over, picked up his cudgel and slipped it into the loop in his belt. “Are you hungry?” He grinned up at her. “If I recall, we each have at least one free drink.”

  “Well, I’m not going down to the tavern like ‘Little Miss Hiding Cloak.’” She got up and walked over to get her boots near the door. Her doing it in two strides, one stepping over the buckets, reminded Glenn how cramped it’d be with everyone in the room tonight.

  “Okay,” Glenn said.

  “Gurk and Lysine said when we go down we should have a warrior with us.”

  That statement stung Glenn’s pride. “Uhh, right,” he said, knowing deep down she was right, but tried to make light of it. “You wake Sleeping Beauty over there while I move these buckets next to the chamber pot.”

  Kalgore, Stephi and Glenn endured a salty, if not bland potato and onion stew, the scrapings from the bottom of the stew pot that Glenn had seen over the fire upon their arrival at the Ox Wagon Tavern.

  Stephi did her best to ignore the gawks and stares from the linen merchants and tin smiths and similar folk who frequented the establishment. Kalgore’s sneers and mus
cles kept them from approaching. Helganna, the heavy-set serving woman, held disdain for the elven magic user. Burt and Old Burt, however, found reasons to wipe the table or check on the food. Even Young Burt found it necessary to sweep nearby, and only tripped over a bench or chair three times, distracted while working.

  The ale wasn’t anything spectacular, but it did wash down the salty stew, and it was free. Kalgore seemed to like it more than Stephi and Glenn, as he’d ordered two more tin mugs.

  Stephi was uncomfortable sitting in the tavern, especially as more and more people crowded in, buying a beer and staring at her. With all the attention, the three couldn’t talk about their situation. But they weren’t interested in going back up to the cramped sleeping room.

  Soon, Helganna was delivering the tavern’s best ales for Stephi, bought by patrons. After Stephi finished her second, Glenn said, “Looks like one or two are building up the nerve to come ask you for a date, or your hand in marriage or something. I don’t think Kalgore’s impressive sneers are going to deter them.”

  “More than you can do,” Derek snapped.

  “Hey, Kalgore, just making an observation.”

  “He’s right, Kalgore,” Stephi said, seeing Helganna approaching with another frothing mug. “And insulting someone might come back to cause us trouble.”

  “These guys?” Kalgore snorted.

  “Last thing we want is a fight,” Glenn whispered. “Marigold used her Slumber Spell, and did you see the duke’s guardsmen? We don’t want trouble with them.”

  Kalgore stared down at Glenn, who, despite sitting on a cushion provided by Burt the bartender, still felt the table’s top was a little too close to his chin.

  Stephi took a polite drink from the newest mug and said, “Jax, leave a tip. “Alcohol mixed with this crowd won’t go anywhere good.”

  “I can handle any or all of them,” Derek said, louder than necessary, giving Stephi a leering glance himself.

  Glenn slapped two copper coins down on their table. He wasn’t sure it was enough, or too much but, at the moment, he didn’t care. “You can stay if you want, Kalgore, but Stephi wants to leave.”

  “And you’re going with her?” He laughed. “Sure. Not like she’d be interested in any move you might want ta make.”

  Glenn could’ve retorted, but it’d be like a cockapoo yipping at a German Shepard. “Watch for Lysine and Gurk. Let us know if they don’t show up pretty soon.”

  “And lay off the drinking,” Stephi warned. “Last thing we need is a warrior with a hangover.”

  Glenn noticed the entire tavern was silent, listening to the small bit of drama.

  When Stephi stood, Glenn climbed down off of his chair.

  “Let’s go, Jax.”

  As they made their way to the back of the tavern, to the door leading to the inn, Derek called, “Be sure to tuck the little guy in.”

  Both Stephi and Glenn gave him the finger.

  Chapter 9

  All four men stood in the dark hallway while Stephi used the chamber pot. It was going to be a smelly business once they all had their turn, and the narrow window wasn’t going to be up for handling ventilation. At least Port-a-pots had a chemical soup that nullified most of the odor.

  Glenn figured he wasn’t mechanically inclined enough to invent indoor plumbing for this world. But maybe he could team up with Ron who, as a druid, might have knowledge of plants that could be used to create a liquid that nullified orders. Create and sell it to the finer innkeepers, to place two inches or so in the bottom of their chamber pots to eliminate the rancid smell. That was if it even bothered the people of this world.

  Then it struck Glenn. His odorless chamber pot idea assumed he’d be in the alternate world long enough to develop such a liquid. He leaned against the wall and groaned. What if he was trapped here as a gnome, forever?

  “You okay, dude?”

  Glenn’s low light vision wasn’t necessary to identify Kirby’s croaking voice.

  He placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder. “You ain’t sick or something?”

  Glenn shook his head. “Just not happy about being here.”

  Ron whispered, “Maintain muted discussions, or refrain. Sunrise is only now occurring.”

  Someone, probably Young Burt, had opened the shutter at the end of the narrow hallway, allowing faint strains of light to enter. Glenn heard movement within the room across the hallway, so somebody was up.

  “Hey, Jax, man, I’m sorry about what I said last night.”

  Glenn glared up at Derek standing next to him.

  “I mean it, man. The booze and the frustration of this effin’ situation was doing the talking.”

  Derek looked apologetic, with his frown and raised eyebrows. Something inside, a positive instinct, urged Glenn to accept the apology. To let it go and forget it. That wasn’t like Glenn, and he knew it. Probably something inherent to gnome personalities as directed by the rules in the book—rules that governed this crazy parallel, or as Ron had begun to discuss, concurrent universe. That notion resparked anger and resentment.

  “Yeah,” Glenn said, standing up straight, meeting the muscle-bound warrior’s the eyes. “I’ll remember that when some goblin’s stuck a spear in you, and you’re looking for some healing.”

  Derek’s expression morphed to anger in less than a heartbeat. “Right. If I’m that desperate, chances are your little ass will already be dead.”

  Kirby stood next to Glenn, chest puffed out. “Listen here, man—”

  Ron interposed himself between Derek and the two shorter members of the party. “Not at this moment, not in this hallway.” His harsh tone came out in a strained whisper. His ire appeared to be focused more on Derek. Maybe he’d had to deal with the inebriated warrior last night.

  Glenn had fallen asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket next to the bed Stephi claimed. It was too short for her, just like it would be for Derek, but she’d made the best of it, even if her elven nature didn’t require her to sleep much. In any case, Glenn woke up momentarily when the three came in the room, and then fell right back asleep.

  Stephi opened the door and stepped out. “Okay, who’s next?”

  She was entirely too cheery, and looked entirely too good for such a dreary morning.

  While Derek and Kirby packed everything and arranged their gear, including the goblin weapons for travel, Ron, Stephi and Glenn did what was necessary to get their spells. For Glenn, it was easy. It was like meditating, and there really wasn’t much of a choice. Two Minor Heal Draw Spells. There they sat in his mind, feeling like he’d just prepared for a pop quiz, and those were the answers he was ready to regurgitate for the professor.

  Stephi did much the same, with Petie sitting quietly on her left shoulder. When he’d played Dungeons & Dragons, Glenn recalled Magic Users having a spell book where they’d have to select and memorize their spells until all slots at each level were filled. With her, from what Kirby explained, she’d “learned” her Slumber Spell, and would have to commit it to memory for that day, connecting it to her potential spell energy, pretty much how Glenn did it.

  Ron, on the other hand, sat in a Lotus Position and meditated on Gaia, asking for spells. Glenn had heard of Gaia, something like Mother Nature or Mother Earth. Stephi asked Ron if he was praying. Ron said he was not, but Glenn was pretty sure it was semantics. In the end, it didn’t matter, Ron received his two Minor Cure Spells.

  There were other first rank spells a druid could “request” but Glenn didn’t know what they were, let alone what they could do. He made a mental note to ask Kirby sometime.

  The party chose against a biscuit and honey breakfast at the Ox Wagon Tavern—apparently both Burt and Old Burt, along with several merchants who’d stayed at the inn, had gotten up extra early in anticipation of the possibility. The party decided to seek out another place. Seeing the obvious disappointment of the Burts, and early rising merchants, encouraged Stephi to venture out with her cloak’s hood up. Until that moment she’d
been on the fence as to whether or not it was a necessity.

  Speaking with Burt the previous night, Ron discovered that the Church of Apollo within Three Hills City had a high priest that could cast a Revive the Dead Spell. It was rare, but Burt knew that the Duke had it done for one of his nephews who fell from a horse in a freak accident while hunting, and broke his neck.

  The first priority, however, was to secure a Tether Spell, and to have the funds to do it. It wasn’t a high-rank spell, or particularly common. More often it was used should someone be more than three days travel away and wanted to talk to the dead before the soul—or spirit—departed. The spell craft necessary to summon a soul back, once it’d departed, was far more difficult and unreliable.

  The group discussed this possibility while huddled around a table at the edge of a crowded pavilion. A misty drizzle filled the morning air. It beat down the dust and dirt, but the approaching dark clouds threatened to unleash, making everything a muddy mess. They ate their sticky porridge, secured from a nearby street vendor and plopped on a wooden plate. A bronze coin proved sufficient to feed all of them.

  “I gotta mention this,” Kirby said, “although I think it’s a rotten idea. But enchanters can jar a soul and put it into an enchanted construct. It ain’t the same as living, and staying dead might be better.”

  “What’s an enchanted construct?” Stephi asked.

  “Anything. Like a doll. Her soul would inhabit and animate it. How well it would function would depend on the rank of the enchanter—which is a subclass of magic user. And it would cost a lot of gold. Just not as much as a Revive the Dead Spell.”

  Stephi’s eyes widened like saucers. “Like in those Chucky movies?”

  “Think more along the lines of Pinocchio,” Ron said. “And I concur with Gurk’s concern that it is not a favorable option. Nearly as undesirable as a druidic reincarnation. While Byeol could possibly return as a fairy, sprite, faun or even a centaur, higher probabilities would include a woodland animal, such as a fox, owl or otter.”