Blackout (Book 1)

by Adam Drake

  There was little doubt that fights were going on outside in the square. And all over who would have the honor of killing me.

  Sighing, I watched as the players slid around each other in pathetic attempts of intimidation. I don't mind being popular, but this was ridiculous. Removing this bounty once and for all was my only hope.

  A chat acceptance sound brought me out of my gloomy thoughts. I opened the chat screen in front of me. Thankfully, the vector box masked my activities.

  The face of Thorm filled my view. Human, and handsome, with a bristly blond mustache which covered his mouth, Thorm embodied the very best of character customization. I will admit I found his avatar attractive, even though I hadn't a clue what Thorm, the player, looked like in real life.

  “Miss Valesh,” Thorm rumbled, his voice was low and deep. “Always a pleasure.” Although I could not see any details of his surroundings, it looked as if he was resting against a tree.

  “And to you as well,” I said. “You're questing now? Am I bothering you?”

  “Ah, on the verge of completing the last quest in a chain,” he said and his avatar winced in pain. “But the final boss has proven a tad ornery. Refuses to die. Quite rude of him. Wiped my entire party out, except for me.”

  “You're hurt!” I said, alarmed. “I'll come to you, just hang on.”

  Thorm shook his head, sunlight reflecting off his silver helmet. “Do not bother, Vivian. I'm down to my last sliver of health, and the end boss is off somewhere regenerating his. It's only a matter of time before he comes back to finish the job.”

  “Not gonna happen, Thorm,” I said while holding up the Teleport Token for him to see. “I have a one-way ticket, and I'm going to use it. Besides, I need your help, too. Maybe we can trade?” The last was said in a teasing manner. Thorm didn't trade favors with friends, he simply helped them.

  Thorm was about to respond when a shout off-screen snagged his attention. I could not make out the words, but it sounded Orcish.

  “Well, Vivian,” Thorm said. “If you wanted to visit, now would be a good time to do so.”

  Not needing any more encouragement, I closed the chat screen. The healer had finished attending to my wounds and stood close by. I stood up.

  My 'Away From Game' vector box vanished, and several dozen players turned from their arguments to look in my direction.

  To the healer I said, “I'll take a stack of five Health Boosts, too, please.”

  After paying him, along with a little extra for his healing, I turned my attention to the idiot show around me.

  I made a point of holding the Token up for all of them to see. This elicited a torrent of muted rage, of which I could only imagine how creative the insults became. How dare I teleport away from overwhelming odds and a certain death. Ha!

  With the Token keyed in on Thorm, I grinned at the angry players around me. With a wave goodbye, I pinched the Token hard, activating it.

  My vision of the Temple's chamber shimmered, and in the next moment, it was gone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Teleport Tokens key in on other people, with their permission; players and NPCs alike. So when the shimmering on my view-screen stopped I found myself standing next to Thorm.

  I was in a forest not far from a cave entrance in a hill. Thorm sat on the ground, leaning up against a huge oak tree. He smiled at my arrival.

  “Welcome to the fun zone,” the Holy Knight said. His brilliantly shiny silver armor was heavily tarnished with dirt and blood. Several dents told of intense combat. A large white kite shield was propped up next to him, its surface gashed.

  Hastily, I squatted next to him. “Looks like you've had enough fun for one day,” I said. His health was down to twenty percent. I pulled out a Health Boost and tried to hand it to him.

  He waved it away. “I used one a short while ago,” he said by way of explanation. “All my boosts are on a global cool down.”

  From the cave came a loud cry. This time I could make out what was being said. “Time to die, metal man!” It was Orcish.

  “I'm up for a fight,” I said as I took out my bow and summoned a quiver of arrows. “It's not like I haven't had plenty of practice today.”

  Thorm shook his head. “No, he's an elite. And a tough one, too. We'll both need to face off against him.” He gave me a hopeful look. “Happen to have any mana potions on you? I gassed out awhile ago.”

  I glanced at his mana bar which had bottomed out at four percent. Holy Knights are a mixed class with both combat and spell casting abilities, mostly for healing and protection. Without mana, he would not have the ability to cast anything.

  “Sure,” I said and gave him the two mana potions I always kept in my inventory. I didn't need them, but you never knew when an ally might. Shadows didn't use mana, nor cast spells. The Dark Assassins did, however. They were one of a selection of subclasses I could branch off into as I leveled. But since I started this re-roll ages ago, I'd decided to keep my class 'pure' and stayed within the main class, only leveling up its vanilla skills.

  As Thorm quaffed a potion a movement at the cave entrance made me turn to face it.

  A large orc emerged from the darkness and stopped when he spotted us. In one hand he gripped a huge stalagmite like a club. The club's natural protrusions made for some wicked looking spikes.

  The orc pointed the make-shift club at us. “Surface scum,” he grumbled. “Metal man and little wench. Trespass on sacred grounds. Anger my clan. Die you will!”

  “Oh, geez,” I said with a roll of the eyes. “A lore quest?”

  Thorm had taken a few moments to use his new mana to heal himself fully. His armor was also mended. Gotta love spell casters. So handy. “Unfortunately,” he said and stood up. He hefty his now blemish-free shield. “Trying to work my way through the achievements.”

  Orc lore quests were notoriously dull. One clan versus another. Then they unify against the invading humans. War results for an eternity. Still, made for some good experience points and potentially decent loot drops.

  Thorm hefted his broadsword and eyed the Elite Orc who appeared to be waiting for us to make the first move. “Let us finish this, shall we?”

  “Actually,” I said, “I have an idea. Let me take care of this.”

  “Really,” Thorm said with obvious concern. “He's a tough nut to crack, I'll give him that. You'll need help.”

  “There is a trick I wanted to try,” I said and walked toward the orc. “But feel free to jump in if it doesn't work.”

  The orc looked at me as if offended. “Little wench wishes to die first?” He laughed and put a hand on his ample belly. Other than a pair of stitched-skin trousers, the only thing he wore were a set of necklaces made of teeth and finger-bones.

  I called up his stats.

  Species: Orc (Elite)

  Subspecies: Cave Dweller

  Clan: Stone Basher

  Level: 50

  Hit Points: Unknown

  Mana: Nil

  Armor Class: Unknown

  Attack Rating: 30

  Damage Range: Unknown

  Weapon Type(s): Club (Stalagmite)

  Abilities: Crush, Bear Hug, Bash (weapon based), Charge, Night Vision.

  Special: 5% increase to Attack Rating when fighting on Clan grounds. 15% increase to Attack Rating when in the presence of other clan members.

  I did not like all those unknowns, but having never tangled with an Elite Orc before, it was expected.

  “Yes, I wish to die first,” I said to him. “Might you be able to assist me with this problem?”

  The orc's features scrunched up in confusion making him even more ugly. “Stupid wench wants death then I will help her.” He ran at me with a speed I didn't expect. The distance between us shrunk to a few feet in almost an instant.

  Back-pedaling like a mad-woman, I fired a volley of arrows at him.

  Each one found its mark, but had little to no effect. Rather, they made the orc more angry. Then he was on me, raising the sta
lagmite over his head and brought it crashing down.

  I went into Shadow mode and slipped around him the moment his club smashed against the ground.

  Switching to my sword, I struck out at him, causing me to be visible. This did some damage.

  The orc roared and swung about with his club. I ducked into a roll and sprang up. After another swing from his club I sprinted away.

  Angry that he hadn't mashed me to a pulp, yet, the orc pursued. Keeping my distance as best I could I kited him with the occasion arrow. I'd whittle his hit points away with this technique. But where would the fun in that be?

  I was biding my time.

  After a few minutes of me dodging club swings and then firing arrows into his thick skin, the orc slowed down. Panting, he hunched over but kept an eye on me.

  “Little wench not fight right,” he said between ragged breaths. “Should fight like warrior and die like warrior.”

  I gave a glance in Thorm's direction. The Holy Knight stood under the tree looking bored, the blade of his broadsword resting casually on one shoulder. It made for an unassuming image, but I knew he was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

  I stopped moving and switched to my sword. With a come-hither hand wave I said, “Come at me, bro!”

  This triggered an even angrier reaction from the orc. Maybe the come-hither hand wave was obscene to orcs? Regardless, the elite stood upright as if revitalized with new energy.

  Here it comes, I thought while altering my stance.

  The orc roared and, holding his stalagmite club over his head with both hands, used his charge ability. He flew at me with lightning speed.

  There was little time for me to register that this might not be a good idea. But just as the orc closed in for the kill I did the unexpected.

  I ran straight at him.

  This sudden change barely altered the orc's speed who was caught in full charge until it was finished. The millisecond we were going to collide I used my Cloak of Shadows.

  Use Phase Ability.

  I became corporeal, like a ghost.

  The result was me running through the charging orc, who in turn had tried to time his swing for his approaching target. He stumbled as his club hit the ground with a tremendous cracking noise.

  The moment I emerged out the back of the orc (that doesn't sound good, does it?) I spun about and unphased, becoming whole again. My sword pierced bare flesh, sliced against his spinal column, and skewered his heart.

  The orc collapsed to his knees, dropping the stalagmite.

  I placed my foot against his back and shoved. My sword unsheathed from the orc's body and he fell flat on his face, dead.

  Thorm offered a slow, teasing golf clap. “Nicely done,” he said as he walked over to admire the corpse. “Where did you pick up that trick?”

  I shrugged. “Got the idea thanks to a yellow unicorn.”

  Thorm searched the corpse and removed a large sack of coins. “Unicorn? Yellow? You are full of surprises, Vivian.” He grinned and took a necklace of finger-bones as well.

  “What we get?” I asked, nodding at the coin sack.

  “10,000 gold coins,” he said. He tried to give me half, but I refused.

  “This was your quest and lost your party because of it. Keep it all.”

  “Nonsense,” said the knight. “I would most certainly have been smashed to a pulp with that stalagmite of his if you hadn't come along. I insist.”

  I shrugged. Who was I to refuse money?

  “Speaking of your timely arrival,” said Thorm. “To what do I owe this visit? You seemed a little flustered when you chatted me.”

  With a heavy sigh, I said, “I got Mudhoof killed.”

  Thorm's eyes widened. “Again? This is starting to be quite the habit with him. Maybe you two need some away time from each other.” He chuckled.

  “He says it's all part of the game but I can't help feeling guilty.”

  A loud cry came from deep within the cave, followed by another.

  Thorm gave the entrance a worried glance. “His clansmen are wondering where he got off to. Best we leave while we can.” He gave me a questioning look. “Unless you are into farming orcs for potential loot and materials?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Had me fill of orcs for a while.” With that I summoned Smoke.

  The dark horse appeared before me, nickering and shaking his beautiful black mane.

  As I mounted, Thorm summoned his own mount. A large snow-leopard blinked into existence. It had thick white fur with a smattering of large black spots. Huge fangs protruded from its mouth as it roared a greeting to Thorm.

  “Wow,” I said as Thorm jumped up onto the big cat. “You got a new mount? What's her name?”

  “Snowflake,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  I laughed. “Figures.”

  More cries came from the cave, this time much closer.

  “Come on,” said Thorm. “Let me check in with the quest giver. He's at a nearby keep. On the way you can tell me what you've been up to and how I can help.”

  A group of a half-dozen orcs trundled out of the cave entrance and looked around. When they spotted us they roared with excitement. Then they noticed the body of their slain leader and the roars turned to cries of rage. They moved in our direction.

  “Let's blow this popsicle stand!” I said.

  Thorm and I kicked our mounts into a full gallop and soon the cries of the enraged orcs faded into the forest behind us.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The keep was located next to a river a few leagues away from the orc cave. The banner of a local lord flew from the battlement walls which surrounded it. A small cohort of human soldiers milled around looking nervous.

  In the clearing around the keep were scattered bodies, both human and orc. There had been a battle here recently.

  As Thorm and I rode up to the front gate, the portcullis rose and a trio of warriors emerged to intercept us.

  “Halt!” said the leader. “State your business.”

  Thorm eyed the warrior with mild annoyance. “You know who I am since your commander sent me out on a quest from here just this morning.”

  The leader blustered. “That may be so, but unless you have proof that this quest has been completed I cannot grant you access inside.” Thorm glanced at me and I stifled a laugh. Sometimes the game's NPCs could be very strict with procedures.

  The Holy Knight produced the necklace of finger-bones and shook it. The bones rattled. “Good enough?”

  The warrior harrumphed and nodded. “You may pass, hero.” He turned to the guards who blocked the open gate. “Let them through!”

  We rode into a small inner courtyard with several makeshift buildings shoved up against the walls. Being so cramped it was a wonder anyone could even move about. I also noted the defense force was meager.

  “Not much to this place,” I said, dismounting. “Have they ever been overrun?”

  Thorm dismounted and patted Snowflake's nose. “The orcs had control of this keep a month ago.”

  “Oh, yeah? What happened?”

  “I took up the human quest chain and helped push the orcs back to their caves. Was a heck of a good fight, too. Now that a commander has been assigned here I'm hoping the supply route from the Farewell Fall's capital will resume again.”

  “Nice work,” I said, impressed. “You must be get good passive experience points from this.”

  Thorm shrugged as we walked up the steps and through the keep's main entrance. “Every little bit helps. This character level has taken forever. Almost done, though.”

  Inside the keep a guard directed us to the main chamber. Within sat a troubled looking commander mulling over a map spread out on a large table. Upon seeing us enter he blinked in surprise.

  “Didn't expect to see you back,” the commander said.

  “It was more difficult a task then we expected, sir,” said Thorm. He enjoyed a little roleplaying when questing. Few players do anymore which was a shame. My
self included.

  The commander nodded. “Very well. Let us see your proof before I can give you the reward.” Thorm pulled out the finger-bone necklace and handed to him.

  Grinning with satisfaction the commander said, “Excellent! That vile orcish pig is dead! Now we can start making plans for our final assault on their tunnel hideaway.” He looked to Thorm hopefully. “Interested in one final battle which will rid these lands of the orcish scum?”

  Thorm shook his head. “My apologies, commander, but I am afraid another matter has come up.” He gave me a wink.