by Prax Venter
Everybody here was so intense.
In a deep and measured voice, the man spoke. “What took you so long?”
Maybe it was Kron’s accusing tone, or maybe it was being stuck in this dreary place, but Jack fought the urge to punch him right in his dumb face- despite the clear difference in experience and weight class. He channeled it into passive-aggressive sarcasm instead.
“Yeah. Nice to meet you too. I’m Jack.” Jack pointed a thumb to himself. He had to lean a little, but he looked past the wide frame of Kron and addressed the guards sitting at the empty tables with more volume behind his voice. “Hey, everyone!” Jack said with a wave and a smile.
They were all still quietly staring at him. A guy in the back was now standing to get a better look.
“And to answer your question-” he turned his attention up to Kron- “I was crawling over corruption to retrieve a washed-up net so that asshole, Sol, would sell me the fish.”
The guards looked at each other with mixed expressions, and Kron folded his arms across his chest. A few heartbeats later, Demi reappeared from behind the curtain and quickly walked out among the tables. She held out her hand, and a plate of steaming fried fish materialized between her fingers. With practiced speed, she placed down a meal before each person.
The guards quietly went to their business of forking warm buttery flakes of fish into their mouths, and Demi came back to her usual spot behind the bar. Kron turned to face her and held out one of his hands.
“Here. We appreciate your service,” he said, and Jack was reasonably certain Kron initiated a trade interface.
“Sorry to have to charge you as much as I do.” She accepted his trade and looked over to Jack. “You’re right, by the way. He is an asshole. Sol believes pockets lined with coin outweighs the survival of this Town.”
“What purpose does he serve?” Jack asked. Both Kron and Demi looked from him to each other, confused, and Jack tried to clarify the question. “Does he own the fish or something?”
Demi shook her head. “Jack, the fishermen have to sell their fish to the Wharfmaster. So, I guess, in a way, he does own them...” She got a far-off look in her blue eyes. “After the previous Wharfmaster died in an attack long ago, Sol became the new one. Now stop asking nonsense questions for once and stand still. Let’s fix up those Hit Points.”
Demi reached out her long and slender finger and grabbed his arm. She closed her eyes, slowly inhaled and then sung out three perfect, ascending notes that echoed briefly in the air. A calmness washed over him, and his Hit Points flashed green near the edge of his peripheral vision. It incremented from ‘9/10’ to ‘10/10’, right before his eyes. Demi let go of Jack’s arm and leaned against the back of the bar again.
A few of the guards chewing on their fish casually looked over at the miracle Jack had just witnessed.
“Thank you! That was amazing!” Jack said, grinning from ear to ear. Lex must have done something like that when he had scraped half his back off on the rocks in front of the Tower.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed Kron was still just staring down at him with a dour frown on his expressionless face. Demi lightly slapped the big man’s armored shoulder with the back of her hand.
“Oh come on, he’s odd but not useless. He’s a gift, and you know we were long overdue.”
“Hey, now…” Jack said. “Gift might be a little over the line, but I am learning.” Embracing video-game logic felt like the way to go in this strange place. These were all NPCs, not real people, right? And he was designated as a Hero, after all. Jack crossed his arms, mirroring Kron’s imposing stance.
“I will go into the Tower and find the rarest of items to feed to this Town. I will help push the vile corruption back.”
One of Kron’s black eyebrows arched and vanished under his helmet. Jack realized he might have overreached his acting ability. The big man let out a huge sigh.
“Alright. Let’s get over to the yard,” Kron said. He nodded to Demi and then turned back to Jack. “I’ll see what you can do. Follow me.”
Jack followed the heavily armored man out of the Inn and up a dirt path headed directly away from the Tower and the vast ocean behind it. The giant man’s protective gear made squeaking noises as his heavy platemail boots impacted the ground.
“Tell me what you know of the Tower,” Kron’s voice boomed as he walked in front of Jack, never looking back.
“Not much. Garl told me it has monsters and treasure. I know Lex goes in every day, alone- I believe.” Kron looked over his shoulder at Jack. After a few paces, he returned his gaze to the path before him.
“Everyone enters Blackmoor Cove through the front gates. I watch those gates, and I did not see you enter. There are those who believe that arriving from the Tower instead of through the gate foretells the end of this Town.” Jack had a vision of people with torches and pitchforks coming to burn him at the stake. “I haven’t decided if I trust you, but I am an honest man.” He stopped and turned to face Jack.
“You help this Town, and you and I will be fine. Anything else, and I will toss you in the Endless Sea.” Kron’s face was unnervingly calm.
Jack looked up to meet the man’s rigid gaze. “Look, I’m an honest man, too. I’m not from here. I don’t know how I got here, and I will do what it takes to get out of here. Helping to push this corruption crap back seems like a good place to start.”
Kron furrowed his brow but nodded. “That will do for now. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going, again?”
“The Yard. There, we can test your abilities without consequences.”
“What... consequences?”
“Don’t attack anyone in Town and you won’t ever need to know.”
As their feet ate up more path, they traveled through rolling, lush hills and eventually came to the top of a considerable rise. It was a good vantage point from which to view the surrounding area.
Ahead, he could see a clear, flat field with the remains of a stone brick wall. The fortification was punctured with an archway, and the path they traveled led directly through that archway, but the wall’s abbreviated length made the opening seem pointless. Piles of broken stone poking out of the tall grass indicated where the rest of the wall had stood at some point, long ago. Jack could barely see tiny figures standing on top looking out toward the snowcapped mountains that rose far in the distance.
Off to his right was a lush forest with a tall leafy canopy that blocked the light from reaching its relatively barren, shadowed floor. Glimpses of sparkling sunlight from deeper in between the trees caught his eye, and he noticed a wide river twisting and turning its way to the sea.
Jack turned all the way around before they walked over the small hill to find the Tower easily visible behind them, looking as if it were a thread attaching the sky to the ground. The dark stretch of water Kron called the Endless Sea continued beyond until it met the horizon.
Between the cobalt sky, the orange sun, and the lush, verdant grass- everything was so overly vibrant and alien. Jack shook his head and caught up with Kron as he trudged along in his armor up the path.
It was about fifteen minutes of walking from the Inn to the Wall, and it was even less impressive when Jack got up close. Maybe two stories high and thirty yards long. He counted two guards on the walls and three more in the grass below practicing with swords.
Jack instantly recognized the old man watching over the two sparring in the center. Even from behind, he could tell it was the gray-bearded, angry warrior who terrified him the other night- Lex’s father. When he saw Kron walking up with Jack behind him, Harrak walked to intercept them.
“Why’d you bring this fool up here?” he asked Kron. “Kicking him out the gate, are ya?”
“Clear the Yard,” was all the horned man replied.
Harrak slowly gave him a half smile and then turned to the man and woman trying to whack each other with wooden swords inside a roped-off area. The woman was younger and seemed a bit
overweight for armed combat. The other was an older man who was tall and spindly and could barely lift his sword. Harrak put his fingers in his mouth and made a high-pitched whistle.
“That’s enough, you two. Stop wasting everyone’s time and get out of there.”
Both looked relieved to be able to stop their awkward dance and walked over to sit on a nearby wooden bench.
The heavily armored man that escorted Jack to the wall stepped over the rope and entered the sparring area. Jack didn’t wait to be told what to do and followed Kron, facing him from the other side. As soon as he stepped across the threshold, another icon appeared in his peripheral vision. This time, it was a blue sword on a yellow square.
Focusing on the image opened a larger info panel.
Sparring Yard -
No negative effects from attacking Heroes or Townsfolk.
HP will not drop below 1.
HP/MP lost within Sparring Yard will be restored on exit.
Cannot be dispelled.
~ Power is wasted without control.
Jack wondered what would have happened if he had successfully activated his Double Strike ability on Lex the night before.
“Draw your sword,” Kron commanded in his low rumbling voice, then materialized a massive eight-foot shield that covered him from horns to toe. It was like he had ripped an ornate iron door off a church somewhere.
Jack took a deep breath and pulled his sword out of the leather scabbard tied around his hip. This was probably going to hurt, but the new guy had to prove himself before they would take him seriously.
“Hey! Where did he get that?” Lex’s father yelled from outside the Yard. Jack looked over and gave Harrak an awkward flourish of his weapon to show it off.
It had been a mistake to take his eyes off the deadly serious horned man across from him, though. Jack got a close look at Kron’s massive shield an instant before it struck him. The slab of iron connected with the entire right side of Jack’s body and sent him sliding to the edge of the sparring yard. His head rung as his eyes flicked to the Hit Point display floating at the corner of his vision.
HP 1/10
Jack pushed off the ground and got to his feet, shaking off the hit. Harrak was laughing at him, but he resisted taking his eyes from the horned man across the dusty arena. Kron was fast- way faster than should physically be possible in all that plate armor.
“Obviously, the first lesson is: don’t let down your guard,” Kron said behind his shield a few steps away. “Now, attack.”
Jack had played enough video games to know he was never going to physically beat Kron. He pictured himself running over with his rusty sword, looking like a fool, poking at that enormous hunk of metal Kron used as a shield.
No- he was going to try something else. Without really thinking about how to do it, Jack thrust his sword out at Kron and tried to activate his Mining Laser ability.
A brilliant red ray immediately burst from the tip of his sword right at Kron. The beam passed through the thick shield as if it wasn’t there and engulfed the heavily armored man in flames. Kron became a bonfire.
Maybe it was the frustration of the last 24 hours, but without realizing it, Jack channeled all his Mana into the attack. The big man wanted to see what he could do- why waste time? After his Mana depleted, he took a step back, feeling a significant mental drain.
Jack was forced to brace his free hand on his knee as he caught his breath, but kept his eye on his opponent. Kron remained crouched behind his shield, his head down until the flames died out.
The horned man didn’t move, and Jack had a moment to think he had seriously hurt him, but that line of thought ended quickly when a deep chuckling laughter came from Kron. Confused, Jack looked around and saw that everyone was staring at him. Harrak quickly bent down and snatched up his dropped pipe off the ground, his head snapping back up to catch Jack looking at him. He must have let it fall out of his mouth.
Kron clattered over to Jack and sheathed his massive sword. Jack did the same.
“What in the depths was that?” Kron asked, his wide mouth grinning and full of teeth for once.
“One of my abilities, Mining Laser,” Jack responded, feeling a little proud of himself.
“Harrak, my old friend,” Kron called out to the old bearded man tapping dirt out of his pipe. “You ever see something like that?”
Lex’s father didn’t answer, and Kron turned his eyes back on Jack.
“A channeled spell out of a rusty iron sword- right past all my armor. Jack, save that for the Floor Boss until you know what the hell you are doing, understand?” There was a gleam in Kron’s eye that reminded him of what he saw from Lex that first night in the cabin.
Hope.
He didn’t know what ‘Floor Boss’ meant, exactly, but Jack gave a firm nod anyway. Maybe he was right in assuming he could get out after playing this game to its end.
Kron turned and headed over to a chest sitting on the dirt by the wall. He paused for a moment and then beckoned for Jack to leave the training area. As he stepped over the threshold, Jack’s Hit Points and Mana returned to full. When he drew close, a trade menu appeared.
Kron held him with his steely gaze. “You’ll need one of these if you want to make it out with any items from the first Floor. Tell me the best one you can equip.”
Jack heard Harrak snort with indignation behind him and almost turned to ask the old man what his problem was. Instead, he let it go and focused on the trade panel hovering in front of his eyes.
Trade Offered - Kron
Simple Leather Harness - [Chest | Value: 3]
| Def: 3 |
Linked Chain Vest - [Chest | Value: 3]
| Def: 4 |
Iron Breastplate - [Chest | Value: 3]
| Def: 5 |
Jack moved his hand over all the items in the trade window, but only the ‘Simple Leather Harness’ didn’t have a prohibitive red glow around it. He let Kron know.
“Hmm, seems like there is a bit of a tradeoff there,” Kron mused. “Not really a Tank, then.”
“You’re talking about combat roles, aren’t you?” Jack asked. He felt like more things were clicking into place. His thoughts turned again to the Tower and what secrets awaited him inside.
“Yes, and you seem to be a Damage Dealer,” Kron said, approval in his deep voice as he removed the heavy and chain armor from the trade window.
Jack confirmed his side of the trade. “Seems so. Thank you for the armor. I’ll pay you back when I get some cash- er, I mean coin.”
He opened his Inventory and equipped his new armor. Leather straps appeared in a cross on his chest with a few around his abdomen. His white, cotton shirt automatically popped into a second “decorative” chest slot and remained equipped. The belt attached to his mysterious scabbard had automatically adjusted to fit over the new armor as well. Jack gave his new leather harness a yank and had to admit he did feel slightly better protected- as if he had just put on a seat-belt. And it looked like it too.
“Can I go in now? The Tower?” Jack turned and pointed to the thin line attached to the sky in the distance.
Harrak had walked up to them and shook his head. “No, ya fool! You can’t go in today, it’s too late.” The old man readjusted the pipe with a chomp between his crooked, yellowed teeth and walked past them to lean against a shadowed part of the wall.
Kron shot a glance over his shoulder at Harrak and then turned his stern eyes back to Jack.
“One fancy magic-beam alone won’t be enough to finish a Floor.” He raised a huge log of an arm and motioned to the brown-haired woman sitting on the wooden bench by the wall who had been training before they walked up. “Ryea, get over here and spar with our new Hero for a bit.”
She stiffened, her eyes growing wide.
“No combat skills, just melee attacks,” Kron added, beckoning her over again. She slowly picked up her wooden sword and shield, and waddled more than ran up to them. Kron pointed an armored finger indicating
that Jack should join her in the sparring yard. “She hits, you defend.”
Jack studied the woman as he stepped over the rope and back into the small, square arena. Her sword and shield were held limply at the ends of her long arms dangling at her sides. She had on what looked like brown corduroy overalls covering her thick legs and wide hips and a bright-yellow blouse. Ryea’s big, brown eyes darted from Jack to Kron and back, her ponytail slapping back and forth like a cow’s tail swatting flies. She had a slightly doughy, freckled face.
Kron suddenly bellowed from behind him in a startlingly commanding voice, “Now! Ryea, hit him as hard as you can!”
She blinked once and then rushed Jack.
- 8 -
A few hours passed while sparring with Ryea, and Jack came to the realization that she was a lot stronger than he had first thought. She plowed into him a few times with her round wooden shield after he reacted too slowly. It wasn’t anywhere near as damaging as Kron’s epic shield bashing, but Jack felt it all the same. After some practice with the long shaft of iron held in his hand, he was deflecting most of her attacks.
As Jack parried the last three stabs from Ryea’s sword, Kron called out from the top of the wall where he had been standing watch.
“Okay, you two, enough.”
Jack backed up a few steps and put his sword in his leather sheath. Ryea brought her wooden sword up to her brow and used the back of her hand to wipe a sweaty strand of errant hair out of her face. She was visibly winded. He became aware of the fact that he didn’t feel tired at all.
The guards eating lunch at the inn earlier had returned to the wall, and a few of them kept one eye on the awkward sparring match. Jack noticed Harrak sitting on the ground, his back propped up against a rain barrel. His pipe was resting in his lap, and he seemed to be asleep.
Kron walked up to them. “Nice work, Ryea. You tapped him a few times.”
“Thanks, Kron.” She nodded.