Irrelevant Jack

by Prax Venter

  Jack was concerned for her, but did as she asked and walked towards the three men, careful not to drag his feet.

  They were all staring at him as he walked. The two other men were deeply tanned and looked like they spent a lot of time out in the open. One was younger, tall with long arms and legs. The other was older with gray hair and had full bushy eyebrows that swallowed his eyes in shadow. The man in the robes held his nose in the air, and a sour frown drooped on his face as if he couldn’t stand the smell around him.

  Jack started talking to the man in the robes a few steps before he reached the trio.

  “Hi there. I’m Jack. You must be the Wharfmaster. I was sent by Demi to collect uh- fifteen fish.” It seemed so oddly specific.

  The man in the robes looked him over. “Yes, the Irrelevant Hero. I thought Harrak had been deep in his joyweed when his rumor spread about your arrival. But here you are. Well, Jack. I am indeed Sol, the Wharfmaster, and there won’t be enough fish today as these idiots lost their net in the storm last night. It seems like uselessness is in high supply these days!” The man turned to the two fishermen and held his pointy nose a bit higher. “Isn’t that right, boys?”

  Jack did not find this man very pleasant and wanted to get this over with. The man with the gray in his beard kept his shadowed eyes locked on Jack while the Wharfmaster continued.

  “It’s going to take a full day to harvest the materials for another one, so I suggest you both do something useful and go gather them from the coast. You’d better get moving if you want to eat by tomorrow.”

  “Sol,” the older man began in a quiet, deep voice, “the net probably just washed down shore. Now that a Hero is here, perhaps he could help retrieve it. S’much faster than making a new one. Wyben, get to gathering materials- should the net be out to sea.”

  The man named Sol scowled while the old fisherman spoke, then wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  “Fine, Garl. Take him. If you’re wrong, it’s on you when the corruption takes us. If you don’t die, and if you bring the net back, Jack, I can trade you the fish.” He abruptly spun around and stalked off down the main dock. After a moment the Wharfmaster called out over his shoulder. “And if you see my foolish daughter, tell her to return to the wharf where it’s safe.”

  When he disappeared into the wooden building connected to the main dock, the young man let out a long sigh of relief- as if he had been holding his breath this whole time.

  “Stupid sea! Stealing our net.” He shook a gangly fist at the expansive body of water around them.

  The older man spoke calmly. “Go, Wyben. Get collecting seaweed.”

  The kid looked at Garl for a moment, and his shoulders slumped.

  “Uhg. Fine.” The young man made it a few steps, then stopped and turned back toward Jack. “Welcome to Blackmoor Cove, Hero. I sure hope you can help turn this place around.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. Wyben sighed again and made his way down the main dock. Jack watched him go, wondering what he had gotten himself into. No one seemed very happy here.

  “The name’s Garl,” the older man said, offering his hand. Jack took it, and they shared a firm shake. Jack nodded once- finally, someone was treating him like an adult.

  “Nice to meet you, Garl. So, what is going on here?” Jack asked.

  “Let’s walk and talk,” he said before walking down the dock toward the shore. Jack shrugged and followed Garl. He had nothing better to do, and it seemed to be part of the quest to get the fish he needed. It definitely felt like he was in a video game, and he was really starting to believe that he should be playing along as much as possible. Eventually, he would learn enough to get out.

  “I need your help to retrieve the missing net. Will you help me?” Garl continued as they walked.

  “Sure. But more importantly, why do you need me to find a net washed up on the beach and what’s that ‘if you don’t die’ part all about?” Jack asked as they passed the small wooden boat where the girl (who he now assumed was the Wharfmaster’s daughter) had been hiding earlier. It was empty.

  “It might be washed up beyond the corruption farther down the coast,” Garl said, patiently.

  “And that’s deadly?”

  The old fisherman stopped mid-step. He was shorter than Jack but sturdy, and he looked like he’d worked hard his whole life. Garl’s serious eyes regarded him from under his tangle of eyebrows.

  “The rumors are true after all,” he mumbled. “Harrak was right. You just don’t know.”

  Jack was getting tired of this. “Then just tell me!”

  The old fisherman’s eyes went wide for a moment, and Jack could see them clearly for the first time. They were a dim aquamarine but seemed sharp. The moment passed, and Garl let his eyebrows fall back into their normal resting place. He laced his hands behind his back and continued down the coast, trudging through the white sand. Jack followed.

  “The corruption is all around us,” Garl said. “As the Town grows weaker, it cannot push the vile filth back anymore, so it closes in. The corruption’s always pressing against the barrier, draining its power. If someone doesn’t loot the Tower for items of value to feed the Town, the corruption’ll cover everything, killing everyone. If it reaches the Tower, very dire things happen. To answer your question; if Townsfolk like me touch the corruption, I could die instantly. Or worse.

  “But, someone like you, Jack… a Hero. You can cross. Minor negative effects, yes- but as long as you come back into the Town’s protective influence, you’ll be fine.” He waved a weathered, leathery hand in the air.

  They walked down the beach in silence for a while before Jack asked another question.

  “Where does the corruption come from?”

  “For all I know, it has always been. When I was young, my grandfather told me stories of a time long ago when there was more open land than there was corruption. I don’t know if those stories were true, but what is certain is that the corruption is slowly consuming everything.”

  They walked farther in silence. Jack looked back over his shoulder and saw the wharf was getting smaller. He was getting a lot of information from Garl and without a lot of judgment, for once, so he asked another question.

  “Who built the Towers?”

  “The Towers, along with the corruption, have always existed. No one knows who built ’em or how. I’ve never been in one. I am not a Hero. I am told the inside is an ever-changing maze with unending monsters and infinite treasure. No one I’ve ever met is capable of building such a wonder. The Towers provide the items that feed the Towns- if there are Heroes brave enough to take them. That is just the way of things.”

  Jack looked up at the cliffs that loomed above them. The stone structure could still be seen in the distance up on the cliff above, stretching impossibly high. He thought of Lex in there fighting monsters and felt a mix of excitement and worry. A growing part of him was itching to get in there and loot some items. Jack shook his head slowly as he walked behind the stumpy old fisherman. There was still a very good chance that he was trapped in a cave-in and his oxygen-starved brain had made all this insanity up. Climb the Tower to feed the Town?

  “There it is,” Garl called out calmly, pointing down the coast. “I can see the net.”

  Jack followed Garl’s gesture and saw a writhing black and purple mass on the beach before he saw the net. The substance looked like thick moss with worm-like tendrils writhing and twitching about. The sandy beach ahead was only covered with seaweed and shells for about thirty yards- but was covered for miles beyond that by what must be the corruption he had heard so much about. Then something clicked in Jack’s brain.

  “I’ve seen this before... In my world. In the ancient alien ship.”

  - 7 -

  “Your world?” Garl asked, looking at him.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll find it easy to believe that I’m not from here. This stuff...” Jack paused. It looked slightly different, but he could tell this was
the same strange filth from before. “Are you sure I won’t be infected with... that?”

  “I’m sure,” Garl said, looking at him. “It wouldn’t do me any good to get you killed.”

  Jack looked down at his bare feet and made fists in the warm sand with them.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Here.” Garl held out his hand, and a trade screen popped up before Jack’s eyes.

  Trade Offered - Garl

  Fished-up Boots - [Feet | Value: 0]

  | Def: 1 |

  ~ Discarded, flimsy, and smell of the sea

  “I found them in my net a while back. Fitting they will end up helping to snag the very same net. Let’s hurry. The corruption looks weak here, but spawned demons might be attracted to our presence.”

  “Spawned what?” Jack asked, accepting the trade.

  “Where the corruption is dense, it can spawn monsters that will attack us. They almost always attack the Wall- but we can chat on the way back. Get those boots on and get my net.”

  Jack looked across the mass of corruption and saw the fishing net spread out near the edge of the water.

  He opened his inventory and equipped the item in his foot slot. Instantly he was slightly taller and gazed down to see his feet covered by thin leather boots. They were worn down and pretty beat up, but they were a perfect fit. Everything here probably was, he thought. Jack expected some of the sand from his trek across the beach to be trapped inside his boots, but to his surprise there was nothing.

  Jack made his way over to the edge of the corruption, and as he inched closer to the writhing black mess, he started to feel very uneasy about this. He figured that if he walked quickly, it would only take him a minute or so to get it and come back.

  Jack took a deep breath and put one foot down into the writhing mass of disgusting corruption on the beach.

  There was a very unpleasant squishing sound accompanied by moderate queasiness.

  An alert appeared in his field of vision. It wasn’t like any of the ornate, black-lacquered menus he had seen. This was a purple drop icon with an orange square behind it. If he focused his attention on it, he got a pop-up information panel.

  Weak Corruption Drain -

  Lose 1 HP/60 seconds | Active while touching corruption

  ~ It will consume you

  He pulled his boot back out of the infected section of beach, and the Corruption Drain icon disappeared.

  Jack looked back over his shoulder. Garl was watching him with his shadowed eyes but said nothing. He turned back to the stretch of disgusting, writhing mess ahead of him. The corruption spread across the beach and up to the top of the cliff, but he saw no monsters out there at the moment.

  With the coast literally looking clear- Jack gathered his courage, held his breath, and sprinted toward the net. The moment he crossed over its influence, he felt sick again, and the icon flashed as it reappeared. His new boots slipped in the thin layer of oozing pus below him as he ran, but he managed to keep his feet under him.

  Holding his breath seemed like the right thing to do at first, but he let it out in a puff when he reached the net. He was going to pass out if he tried to hold his breath and sprint much longer.

  The corruption was crawling all over it, and for a few rapid heartbeats, he didn’t think he was going to be able to make himself grab it. He was completely surrounded by the crawling filth and could hear a kind of bubbling-sucking as the tendrils writhed. He was about to panic and bolt back without grabbing the net when he noticed a spot of rope that wasn’t completely covered in the black, slimy strings.

  Jack snagged the net and ran, dragging it behind him. Just as he was about halfway back, a new sickening feeling hit him when he lost his first hit point. In the corner of his field of vision, he saw his current and max Hit Points appear with a flash.

  HP: 9/10

  He was one-tenth dead.

  Jack sprinted as fast as he could and jumped over the last few feet of the corruption. He skidded to a halt in the sand and fell to his knees. Dropping the net, he frantically searched his boots and his hands, but there was no sign of any remaining infestation. Other than his heart beating itself out of his chest, he felt fine.

  The Corruption Drain icon was gone, but he was still down one Hit Point. Jack realized he still wasn’t quite sure about the consequences for losing all his Hit Points. He remembered other people talking about people dying, but they were all NPCs, right? Computer controlled, non-player characters. Jack focused on the tiny grains of sand sparkling in the sunlight. No one in here seemed to be a real person, but he had to admit that he didn’t really know anything for sure.

  Something heavy slapped him on the shoulder, and Jack almost jumped out of his skin.

  “Time to head back,” Garl said, looking down on him.

  The man had already rolled up the net and tucked it under his other arm. It also appeared to be completely free of corruption.

  “Do you know how to log off, Garl?” Jack asked, gazing out over at the vast ocean to his right.

  “Log off? You mean Lumberjacking? You’ll have to ask Pan. I know only of Fishing.”

  “Forget it.” Jack said as he stood up and dusted the sand off his pants. He opened his Character window and mentally selected his boots, intending to open a trade panel with Garl. Unsurprisingly, just thinking about the intention of doing it initiated the trade. The old fisherman grunted. The interface flashed red for a moment before a bright red ‘Declined’ appeared across the panel, then it all faded away.

  “Keep the boots.”

  “Thank you. I’ll put them to good use.”

  They walked back along the beach in silence. Jack found it hard to take his eyes off the looming Tower in the distance. He also kept thinking about his Hit Points.

  Eventually, they made it back to the wharf, and Jack marveled at how his legs started to ache from tromping through sand in leather boots.

  “It’s so real,” Jack muttered to himself as he came to a stop by the pier. Garl looked over at him but said nothing.

  “Ah, the Hero has returned,” called Sol, with a slightly mocking dramatic flourish, from inside the rickety wooden structure, and Jack could see his balding head through an open window. The Wharfmaster stood and walked out onto the dock. “And I see you have the net. Garl, get out there, now! And don’t forget to go snag Wyben.”

  Sol shifted his attention to Jack as he stepped down from the dock to the beach. “And you, Hero. I believe you came here for a transaction.” Jack noticed a change in his attitude and the constant scowl that had shown like a ‘V’ on his forehead seemed to relax. The intense robed man thrust out his hand, and a trade panel appeared. “15 fish, I believe, is the usual order?”

  Trade Offered - Sol

  The painted image of a stack of fish sat in a pile on the Wharfmaster’s side, and the number fifteen appeared in white letters just below it. Jack inspected the item stack.

  Ocean Fish - [Meat | Cooking | x15]

  Jack indicated that he wanted to add his entire stack of 30 coins into his side of the trade, then pressed his confirm button.

  “I’m afraid you’ll need a total of 45 coin for this transaction.”

  Jack looked past the game interface and focused on Sol’s face.

  “Hey, I was told-”

  “Fish are rare today, boy,” Sol interrupted. “Rarer items incur higher costs. Simple economics.” Jack started to feel like he was getting ripped off and wondered if this quest for 15 fish was going to get ridiculously complicated.

  Garl, who hadn’t left yet, spoke calmly from Jack’s side. “He saved most of the day’s fishing, Sol. Besides, if the guards start missing meals… Kron will investigate.”

  Sol’s scowl returned. He thought for a moment, then turned a stare towards Jack that seemed to bore into his soul. With his short, salt and pepper hair sticking out over his ears and his long robes, the Wharfmaster looked just like an angry owl.

  “Dude, I don’t have a
ny more money anyway. This is my first morning in your Town!”

  Sol thrust out his hand and made a pawing motion in the air in front of his face. The Trade Interface had been accepted by both parties and faded from existence.

  “Get out of my sight, both of you!” Sol growled before heading back to whatever he did sitting at his desk. Garl nodded to Jack and then also walked away, getting back to pulling meat from the sea.

  Jack walked back along the coast, his feet wrapped in new boots and his inventory full of fish, and it didn’t take long at all to make it back up the path to the Inn. The sun was mostly shrouded in more cloud cover, but Jack could see the dim shadow of the Tower falling just past the inn on the far side.

  When he arrived and pushed open the door, he discovered the Eye o’ the Storm now had a handful of patrons, and they all swiveled their heads to look at him standing in the doorway.

  There were about six men and women, all wearing mismatched sets of armor. Some looked surprised, and a few looked angry.

  “There you are, Jack. Come bring me the delivery.” Demi’s voice drew his attention to the bar and there he saw a tall, heavily armored man watching him.

  Jack ordered his feet to move and walked up to the bar. As he got closer, he questioned his own sense of perspective again when he noticed how large the man really was. Maybe it was the armor, but he was wide, not just tall. He wore a thick metal helmet that only exposed his face with two massive metal horns curved forward from its sides, making him look absolutely demonic. Jack stepped up to the bar, ignoring the imposing man and his disapproving frown.

  With a thought, Jack initiated a trade panel with Demi. He moved the ‘Ocean Fish’ over to her side and confirmed the trade. The window vanished, and Demi smiled.

  “Thanks. Jack, this is Kron,” she said, holding out a palm towards the man with the horns. She then addressed the people sitting at the tables behind him. “Just a moment, everyone.”

  Then she disappeared behind the painted-eye curtain, and Jack turned to face the man looming over him. He must have been 8 feet tall and older than Jack, based on the deep lines creased into his sun-baked, leathery face. His eyes were a steely light gray and seemed to be more illuminated than they ought to be, given the dim lighting.