by Wade Adrian
Max's was dropping too.
"Huh." Tom rubbed at his chin. "So, why are we dying?"
There was genuine surprise in Max's voice. "What?"
"Our health is dropping. Regularly."
"Shit. Well, maybe that wasn't all the bear's fault then."
"Guess not." He opened his spell tab, flipping through. Nothing left to heal them with. He had been pretty sure, but it was better than not checking. "Well that sucks."
"Don't think I poisoned us..." Max was paging through his own interface.
Tom tilted his head a bit, his eyes on the snow. "Cold. We're freezing."
Max scoffed. "Since when is that a thing?"
"We've been in temperate zones until now. This place is too cold. We're not prepared for it, so we're freezing. It's why clothing has different ratings."
"So make a fire, nature man."
"In this wind? In the snow? We'll never find dry wood even if we found cover."
Max's head lifted a bit, his eyes cutting back and forth. "Do you hear that?"
Tom was rather sure the man was delirious. To think he would miss... well, he wasn't at his best. "Hear what?" He had to yell over the wind that picked up.
"...singing?"
"Singing." Tom stared at the rogue. "I hear wind. I admit it gets a bit high pitched now and then..."
Max's head whipped this way and that, his hands held up to his ears. A few moments later he shaded his eyes with both hands and squinted. "I see a light."
Tom looked that way. He couldn't see a thing. "Must be a reflection or something. I don't see it."
Max started ahead through the snow, his feet only sinking a few inches with each step. "Better than waiting here to die."
Tom's face stretched into a frown. Survival was his thing, and no doubt heading for cover was best but... he hadn't seen anything. Had Max, or was he just seeing things in the snow? It wasn't uncommon. More than one guy working at their station had snapped and wandered out into the white.
On the other hand, it was entirely possible Max was right and the alien nature of the place was mucking with what Tom could see.
Better to move, right or wrong. A break from the wind would do wonders. It might even save their lives. They had a lot of weird shit to parse out and being dead wasn't likely to help. There was no telling where they might respawn or how much of this insanity they would have to repeat.
Tom's feet sank quite a bit further into the snow as they moved. Maybe having more armor wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Only a few yards into the trip Tom could hear the first hints of voices, too. It took quite a bit more walking before he spotted the lit window, though.
Cold really must have been getting to him.
The stone building was nestled against the foot of the mountain, at least the part that kept going up. He had no idea how high up they already were. One wall of the place was against solid rock, and its roof was so deep in snow he was amazed they had noticed it at all. The lit window was on the second floor, which hung out a bit over the first.
It was hard to miss the singing at this distance. There were more than a few voices.
Max, being Max, waltzed right up to the door with his hand held high to knock.
Tom grabbed his arm. "Hold up. We don't know who is in there."
"Someone warmer than we are."
"True. So we need a plan." Tom glanced around at the window, the overhang, the snow drifts piling up, the distant evergreens leaden with snow... none of it seemed particularly useful.
His teeth chattered.
Their health kept ticking down.
"Okay, so, heres the plan. We knock, all polite and civilized like. When they open up we'll probably be safe from the cold for a bit. We'll rush in, smack around the occupants if we have to. They'll have food and warmth. Good place to figure this out."
Max blinked a few times. "Right..."
Tom held up a hand. "This is no time to be nice. We're dying out here." He rapped his knuckles against the rough wooden door.
The door rattled and jerked open before he could knock a second time. The singing inside died instantly.
A man taller and wider than the door stood on the inside, a bushy red beard hanging to his belt.
Max leaned towards Tom, his voice a whisper. "What's plan B?"
3
A heavy weight landed on Max's shoulder. The meaty paw was quite possibly larger than the bear's had been, and was just as strong as he was hoisted from his feet.
The singing picked up again as the large man moved Max and Tom both into the room like sacks of grain, kicking the door shut again behind him.
Well, they were inside.
The man carrying them wasn't even the largest one in the room, which sported close to forty people, if Max's math was right. It was tricky to concentrate while being lugged around.
The large man planted both of them in chairs at a rough wooden table near a roaring fireplace.
Max held up a hand. "Excuse me, my good man-"
A hammered metal cup was smashed down onto the table in front of each of them, probably hard enough to bend them if they hadn't already been bent out of shape. The large man and his red beard stared down at them.
Tom picked up his cup readily enough. "Don't be rude." His voice dropped to a whisper. "We won't survive making them angry."
Max lifted his own dented cup gingerly. Whatever was inside had soured some time ago.
Tom's face didn't change much when he took a swig, at least not in a way most people would notice. One eye squinted a bit, and the side of his mouth ticked up for a moment.
For Tom, that was saying a lot. This was a man that readily ate things he found on the ground.
"Well... it's hit points." Tom shook his head a bit.
Max lifted his own cup. "That's my favorite flavor."
There was honey involved. A lot of it. It didn't move like honey, but the taste was hard to miss.
Max might have coughed a bit. It was a very strong flavor.
The large man laughed and clapped both of them on the back before standing almost tall enough for his head to scrape the ceiling as he walked away.
Max slumped in his chair a bit. "Well, seems like we're okay."
"So far." Tom's eyes scanned the room, the ranger didn't tend to feel safe if he wasn't alone in the middle of nowhere. "Do what they say for now. Seems like we stumbled onto a party."
Max stared at his hands, presently wrapped around the cup. They might be his hands but the gloves were weird. "How long will this last?"
"Beginning to doubt this is a quest. Almost seems like a database issue. I'll check it out once we're healed up. In the meantime, lets not compound the problem by dying. Don't need any more variables."
"Not dying is a favored pastime of mine."
Metal plates loaded with meat clanked down in front of them. The lady carrying them was probably half a head taller than Max, and wider, too. Then again, he seemed... a bit shorter than he remembered, given the size of the room. Maybe she was perfectly normal, or maybe she was very tall. Maybe they all were.
"Pardon, miss?" Max held up a hand, but she turned away into the crowd.
"Nice people." Tom grunted as he looked over the plate.
It smelled... strange. There was no flatware to be seen. Max poked at the meat with a finger. "What is it?"
Tom leaned in closer. "It's..." He picked the meat up by a bone sticking out, turning it this way and that. "It's..." He moved it in close for a sniff, then stuck his tongue out for a brief taste. He faced Max with a shrug. "It's food."
"Hopefully not the last poor souls that wandered in out of the cold."
"Don't be silly. The bones are too small."
"Well that's a relief. Just anything smaller than a person, then. Like a child."
Tom rolled his eyes as he took a bite. "Feel free to die, then."
As Max picked up the meat, and looked around for a napkin to wipe his hands on... a cry echoed around t
he room, taken up by most if not all of the voices.
"Skol!"
When he looked up, Max found all eyes in the place on him. Even Tom's. Everyone was holding their cups in the air.
He dropped the chunk of meat back on the plate and lifted his cup.
Better late than never.
Everyone drank, and he did as well. The cultural footing was a might precarious here.
Tom shook his head when everyone turned away and went back to their singing, laughing, and eating. "I thought you were supposed to be Mr. inoffensive. They yell 'Cheers' and you sit there like a lump?"
"Cheers?" Max prodded the hunk of meat again. "I'm pretty sure they said 'skull,' which I admit I found confusing. Who just yells skull? In tandem? While eating? Weird."
Tom's plate was nearly empty. Survival minded rangers weren't the most picky with their meals. Or maybe they were, but they tended to look like garbage disposals to everyone else. "That bear must have hit you pretty hard."
"I guess so."
"Probably part of the database issue. Maybe your interface."
"I admit it's probably not working right. I would swear it was cold outside, it's uncomfortably warm in here, and that drink had a distinct, almost pungent flavor. Like... honey was punching me in the face."
Tom dropped the bone onto his empty plate. "Not just me, then. Odd. Sounds like we'll need a downtime for this one. Don't need people having panic attacks because they got hit in a game. We're probably in enough trouble as it is." He picked up his cup and took another swig. "Besides, give me a chance to figure out how all the nubs showed up. Maybe get rid of them."
"Skol!" The voices raised again, but Max knew what to do this time. His cup was still half full, but it seemed like Tom had emptied his on that round. It hit the table with a hollow sound.
A serving girl with cherry blonde hair seemed happy to wander by and pour more for Tom. She gave a sour look when she noticed Max's not yet empty cup.
Tom nodded to the cup. "When in Rome."
Max sighed and lifted the cup. He didn't care for the idea of eating, but the drink was giving hit points back, too. It wasn't like it mattered, he wasn't going to get drunk off virtual alcohol, though it tended to play hell with the visuals for a bit.
Better than being beaten to death by forty large drunks.
He tipped up the cup, trying to ignore the bitter honey flavor.
The girl raised the back up the cup higher with a finger. "Skol."
Max's cup hit the table with its own hollow thud a moment later. The girl nodded approvingly and refilled it to the damned brim.
Tom muttered as she wandered over to another table. "What am I, chopped liver?"
"That might be the next course they serve."
"So unfair."
Max's face felt... warm.
Probably the fire.
After the ruckus outside it was... kinda nice here. Loud, sure, but comfortable. Warm. A bit blurry, but lots of nice places were blurry. Nothing to hold against it.
The noise might have been getting to him, though. It was starting to sound a bit hollow. Like it was further away than all around him. Something of a mercy, really.
The collective cry of "Skol!" came through loud and clear. The drink didn't seem as bitter anymore. Maybe they had opened a second batch that was better.
Hell, it was starting to grow on him.
Max tried to recall what exactly they were doing here, but the thought floated away before he could catch it.
Tom was... singing? How did he know the words? Maybe he just thought he did, and didn't want to offend. Everyone else was singing. Probably the polite thing to do.
"Skull, skull, skull..." Max sang, mostly to himself, as he leaned over the table.
The pretty young lady came by with the pitcher again. He found it difficult to raise his head, but he lifted his empty cup towards her. "Skull?"
She laughed softly, probably at him, before filling the cup. She turned and left without pouring any for Tom.
That seemed a bit rude.
Max shifted to look at his friend.
Tom's head was leaning back on the top of the chair, his mouth hanging open.
Was he... snoring?
Doof. No one can sleep in a game. That's just stupid.
Max pulled his cup in close. It was a good friend now, too. Warm, full of honey water. So much nicer than the cold outside and its stupid bears.
"I found you."
Tom's eyes ached as he sat up. His neck was stiff and his mouth felt like a cotton ball. Some asshole had shoved a nail between his eyes too, near as he could tell.
None of that explained the child seated across the table from him.
The room was quiet, the fire reduced to little more than embers.
Max was slumped over the table, hugging his cup.
No light entered from the shuttered windows. Several large people were deposited on the floor and tables, snoring away.
The kid seemed pretty wired though. She stared at Tom with wide bright blue eyes that were a tad sunken. Her blonde hair was a mess.
"Come again?" He slumped in his chair a bit.
"I found you."
Tom glanced around. Surely this kid had parents somewhere. "Great... guess it's your turn to hide then. If it looks like I'm asleep, don't be fooled. I'm counting. Honestly." He leaned forward onto the table.
It was rough and cold, but it was nice and horizontal.
"You are the one. You are mine."
Tom looked up at that, his eyes narrowed. "I'm flattered, really, but I do have some standards. What are you, like, ten? Come back in eight years. We'll talk."
"Mine." The girl repeated as she nodded. "My one and only, but you do not know me."
Tom sighed. "Is this an alimony thing? There's not going to be any child support, kid. I barely break even out here in the snow as it is." He stifled a yawn.
Wait this... this wasn't the research station.
Why did his damned head hurt so much?
"You must know me."
He had to squint to see straight. The place was made of stone and wood. Was he still... in the game?
"Go north." The child pointed at the wall with no windows, the one he vaguely seemed to recall was basically a mountain face. "You'll find my place. My only place. The only place for the only one."
He groaned as he laid his head back down. "Oh, you're just a creepy little quest giver then. Okay, fine. I accept, or whatever. Dumb log is empty anyway." He waved a hand at her idly without looking. "Jobs done, you can go now."
There was no reply.
He shifted his head a bit.
The child was gone. He glanced around the room. She hadn't gone outside, and the stairs probably squeaked. They looked pretty rickety.
His vision swirled and he laid his head back down on the table with a groan.
Stupid creepy kid.
Light burned into Max's eyes. He winced and moved his arms to cover them with a hiss. There was a thump and the sound of water spilling.
Windows were open on the far side of the room, near the door. They looked like squares of pure white, like the sun itself was just on the other side.
Well, at least that much was familiar.
A surly looking woman appeared with a rag. She shoved him back into his chair and swept the rag around the table, muttering to herself.
It sounded like mashed syllables to him.
"Sorry, I don't understand."
Her eyes turned to him. "Voltaig is over." Her accent was thicker than the drink had been the night before. "Hospitality is over."
Max nodded, though he regretted it when it felt like his brain was sloshing around in his skull. "I see. Thanks for inviting us."
She spat on the table and wiped at it a few more times. "Can't turn away on Voltaig." She wandered a few steps from the table, visibly kicking something on the ground.
A groan rose up in reply.
He wanted to go back to sleep... but he also didn'
t want to get kicked, so that was probably a bad idea. There was a hint of... nausea around the edges of his mind. It paired well with the pain his eyes were providing.
Wait.
He opened his menu. The clock confirmed his suspicions.
They were nearly late for their shift.
But... that didn't make sense. He had never slept in the game before. Hell, the game kind of used a sleeping mind to put the person inside. The concept of... double sleep was... stupid.
Something was seriously wrong with the game. The damn thing might need to be removed and reinstalled at this point.
He swept down to the bottom of the menu. The sooner he got out of here the better...
He mashed the logout button.
Nothing happened.
Huh. He moved around all the menus again, making sure he was in the top, main menu.
The button was there, but it didn't do anything when he hit it.
"Well, I'd certainly say it's broken, yes."
Max glanced over at Tom, who had moved to lying on the table sometime in the night. At least he was still here. Max reached out a hand and shook him.
"Hey, wake up. We've got a problem."
Tom winced at the light entering the room. "You've always got problems."
"I guess. But this one isn't just mine. I need you to log out and wake me up."
Tom sighed. "Log out of what?"
"The game."
"I'd have to log in first, idiot."
Max wasn't at his best... but getting angry wasn't going to help. He put on his best middle school principal voice. "Tom, where are we right now?"
"C-level. Staff quarters. And I'm seriously pondering getting my own."
Max sat back in his chair. It wouldn't be long.
Tom's head lifted a few inches off the table as he looked around. "Wait..."
"Exactly."
Another sigh escaped Tom as his hand moved through the air. "I'm a bit lost..." He shook his head and swept his hand in the air in front of him. "Logout button doesn't work."
His head returned to the table.
Max rolled his eyes.
It took about twenty seconds, but Tom sat bolt upright in his chair, his hands flailing about in the menu. "The logout button doesn't work!"
Max rubbed at his temples. "Well shit, not just me then." The nausea was still there, but it seemed to have lessened a bit.