Underpowered Howard: A LitRPG Adventure

by John L. Monk

  Elfie gasped. “That’s right! He was hunting warlocks in Ward 3 early in your delectomancer quest. Could be me, but he seemed sort of … intense? He was always scowling.”

  “Sounds just like Jane,” I said, “except more jolly and fun-loving. The question is: What are we going to do about it? If she has those ships, she’ll be waiting for us.”

  Felix made a dismissive sound. “It’s a big ocean. Too wide for ten ships to cover, let alone three.”

  Elfie’s jaw took a set. “If she tries anything, I’ll blast her back to the Slaughtered Noob. Paladin or not, she’s just a player.”

  “Never fought a paladin before,” Felix said. “You?”

  I shook my head. “She did heal me once. She was ghosting me at the Timeless Tourney. Then she trapped me in a Mirror of Captivation.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Elfie said. “How did you get out?”

  “Through a great deal of wonderfully bad luck,” I said, smiling.

  After recounting the story—to many an ooh and ahh, which I couldn’t help but enjoy—Elfie began to yawn, and that got Felix yawning, too. Their virtual biorhythms were all messed up after switching watch times. Felix announced he was heading to the galley for coffee and suggested Elfie get some sleep before dark.

  With nothing to do, I mingled freely among the crew, chatting them up and taking their mood. And if I occasionally made mention of my dissatisfaction with the captain—and his face only a mother could love—who could blame me after his threats to the crew?

  Later that evening, I checked the ship’s loyalty and smiled in satisfaction. It was sitting solidly again at 100%. If I’d thought of this earlier—undermining the captain behind his back—it would have saved me many hours of consternation.

  An awkward silence among the crew prompted me to turn around. The captain had returned to the quarterdeck. And though there were plenty of other things to occupy him, he was looking directly at me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A full week passed with no attacks while my karma hovered right around twenty-nine percent. The lookout reported plenty of fishermen and traders trolling up and down the coast, but nothing like the ships Jane had apparently hired. A good thing, I figured. The crew of the Royal Banshee were brave and quick with the guns, but they had too few health points for adventuring in the upper wards.

  As a former Q4 developer, I knew lucids were as real as any player. The only difference was their imperatives. They existed for very specific purposes. Desert raiders raided, ghost pirates pirated, and lucid sailors sailed. I didn’t mind killing “bad guys” so much because the alternative meant never venturing into the world. But normal lucids, like these sailors… No matter how much I told myself that’s their purpose, I still worried about them.

  I was sitting on deck one day, lost in thoughts like this, when the ship lurched to the side, carrying my stomach with it.

  “Beat to quarters!” the officer on deck shouted unnecessarily. This came minus the drumroll I’d heard on previous occasions, as the marine in charge of martial drumming was sprawled haphazardly against the starboard railing bleeding from his scalp.

  Before my eyes, the wound vanished, trigger-healed by Felix’s delectomancy.

  The ship was heeled over at maybe a ten-degree angle. It also wasn’t bobbing up and down anymore. Cautiously, I crept to my feet for a look over the side and gasped at what I found there—or rather what wasn’t there.

  The ocean was gone. In its place was a wet, barnacle-studded landscape with pools of water at every low point. That’s when the smell hit me—a rancid fishy smell like you’d find in a fish market at the end of a hot summer day.

  The captain stormed from his cabin and shouted, “What the devil’s happening out here! Who ran us aground? Spootlick—where are you?”

  “I’m here, Captain,” a frail voice carried from somewhere out of sight. “I was thrown something fierce.”

  The deck became a whirlwind of activity as men obeyed orders from the captain and other officers. Once again, I found myself at the taffrail with Elfie and Felix, who were gazing out over the alien landscape.

  “It’s like the bottom of the ocean’s been pulled up here,” Elfie said.

  “Look at that wiggly thing,” Felix said, pointing at an alien-looking creature the size of a bulldog. It had a giant mouth, three glittery eyes, and spindly legs that carried it up and over a ridge of rocky coral.

  I swallowed in disgust. “I’d rather not, thanks. Has this happened before?”

  Felix shook his head. “Looks like the ground came up from beneath us. Ship’s completely land-bound.”

  “Beached,” Elfie said.

  “Run aground,” Felix said.

  “Stranded,” she said.

  “High and dry,” he said.

  “Marooned!”

  Unlike the horror infecting the ship, these two were smiling.

  “What am I missing?” I said.

  Stroking his beard, Felix said, “We’ve just about reached central Ward 2, right?”

  I checked my map and saw that our bubble of explored territory ended about halfway up the eastern side of Ward 2. “Yeah, so?”

  “So?” Elfie said. “So you’re the luckiest unlucky person I’ve ever met. Do you realize what you’ve gotten us into?”

  “No, and at this rate, I’ll die of old age before I do. What the hell—sorry—is going on?”

  “Tormegazon,” she said, “that’s what.”

  I found it hard not to laugh. They seemed so excited.

  “Tormegazon,” I said.

  “It’s a turtle,” Felix said.

  “A huge turtle,” Elfie said.

  Felix’s tone turned scholarly: “Tormegazon is a living island growing from the back of a spectacularly massive sea turtle that paths between Ward 2 and Ward 4. The chance of it surfacing at the precise moment we did is astronomically small, which is why most people only see it from afar. To attempt a sea landing is just about suicide. Its massive legs push through the water, creating powerful whirlpools that suck ships down, never to be seen again.”

  “Sounds terrifying,” I said. “So why are you so happy about it?”

  Elfie kissed me noisily on the cheek. “You’re cute when you’re freaked out, you know that? But you shouldn’t be freaked out, Howard.”

  Felix nodded. “Yes, don’t freak out. This is actually a good thing. Well, for me mostly, haha, but that’s still good for you!”

  At the top of my lungs, I yelled, “I’m not freaking out! See? What am I not freaking out about?”

  Silence from the Elfie and Felix, as well as the rest of the immediate ship. The men aloft were looking down at us, ever curious.

  Felix opened his mouth to speak—hopefully, to tell me something useful—only to be interrupted by one of the redcoat marines.

  “Your pardon misters and missus. Captain Richards should like to speak to Mister Howard and requests your presence as well, at your earliest convenience—by which I take to mean now, if you’ll pardon me. Thank you.”

  The captain, as usual, was not happy.

  “You brought this misfortune upon my happy ship,” he said, pointing a manicured finger at me.

  In an effort to defend myself while still being civil, I said, “Do you have proof or are you just guessing?”

  “I may not have proof, but I have my instincts, honed by decades spent dealing with commoners and un-commoners alike, and you’re as shady an owner as I’ve ever seen. Since the beginning of our venture, we’ve had the most unlikely series of misfortunes ever to beset a ship’s company.”

  He lowered his voice to a whisper, forcing the three of us to lean forward to hear him.

  “If the foremast jacks knew there was a Jonah in their company, they’d murder the lot of us—slowly, and with lusty enthusiasm. Though I fear neither death nor earthly pains, I shall not sink willingly to Davy Jones’ Locker. Nor will I be made a fool. You got us into this—I know not how or why—but by the gods of
Mythian, you will get us off this accursed tortoise. I am not accustomed to captaining reptiles!”

  Elfie cleared her throat. “Um, sir, one thing… You see, it’s actually a sea turtle, not a tortoise. Tortoises are land animals.”

  “And I will not be corrected by elven strumpets!” he shouted.

  Felix issued a low growl, and I placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

  “We’ll look into it,” I said.

  “See that you do!” the captain said. “You are dismissed.”

  After our belittling chat with the captain, Felix told me what we could expect while stranded. Several times a day, we’d be attacked by the barnacle-encrusted landscape, which would open up and spew creepy crawlies that’d pinch, bite, and spray acid on anything organic, including the ship itself. To counter that, men would need to wet down the ship with water, either lugged in from the living coastline or pumped from our onboard supply. The ship, in turn, would steadily lose hull points, forcing the carpenters to maintain it, and that’s where Elfie came in. It was her job to defend the ship with her high-level wizardry.

  “What’s your job?” I said.

  “To find primal fleckulents!” Felix shouted, then danced in a circle.

  “What?”

  “Primal fleckulents!”

  “I still don’t know what those are.”

  “Ah, but what aren’t they?” he said mysteriously. “Okay, fine. A primal fleckulent is the one crafting component in all of Mythian that can stand in for every other crafting component.”

  I nodded. “You know, I think I’ve heard of them before, or their description. I seem to recall they’re pretty rare.”

  “They are,” he said.

  “But you’re saying they’re here? On turtle island?”

  “Here and here only,” Felix said. “It’s one of the reasons we started these runs—in the hopes of this happening. And get this: We have weeks to spend searching for them! There’s no way we’re getting off this slow-moving turtle on our own. And your paladin friend will be looking for a boat. Even if she knew our location, she can’t fly here without being eaten. Ah, but get this: We can fly while we’re here. So long as we’re over the turtle, we’re technically safe. We’re actually in an entirely different instance. Which makes this ship an instance within an instance. How’s that for a headache?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his exuberance. He hadn’t been this outwardly joyful since back in Sandpiper Vista. Still, I hated to waste so much time here, even if we were moving toward Ward 4. Fleckulents or no fleckulents.

  I looked over the side to where the hull curved down out of sight. “So there’s no way to … you know … haul the ship off the rocks and … um … push us out to sea?”

  “The Royal Banshee weighs a gazillion-jillion pounds. Elfie could probably raise it off the ground with telekinesis, but even if we could launch it, the whirlpools would smash the ship to hell. Face it, Howard, we’re stuck.”

  He might have felt excited, but I was anything but.

  “Ah, you’re upset,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Not at you. It’s just… I’m gonna be stuck on this ship until we get there, aren’t I?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  I looked at him sharply. “But I’m only level 85. That’s something like a hundred and sixty levels too low for this place.”

  “True,” he admitted.

  “And I’m a necromancer. You guys need a necro like you need a hole in the head.”

  “Also true,” Felix said. “Speaking of which, I once punched a hole in my head to see if I could touch my brain and live. Turns out I could! But I see your point—which is why, when you and I go hunting for primal fleckulents together, you won’t be a necromancer at all.”

  “Ah, what?”

  Felix opened his coat, revealing a Portable Hoard just like Elfie’s. He pulled a muffin from it and said, “Here, eat this.”

  According to my logs, it was a Bran Muffin of Explosive Results. I started to read the description and Felix elbowed me, breaking my concentration.

  “Don’t you ever leap before you look?” he said.

  “Not usually. But all right. Here goes…”

  I took a small bite and swallowed. Delicious, moist, but nothing special happened.

  “You have to eat at least half,” Felix said.

  Shrugging, I took another bite…

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The turtle-shaped island below looked surprisingly tiny from half a mile in the sky. It also looked pink … and purple … and green … and several interesting shades of brown. Along the sides, its gargantuan feet stroked slowly through the water and sent whirlpools in every direction, just as Felix had predicted.

  What the hell am I doing up here? I thought when my wits returned to me, and with them my memory.

  After eating the pastry, I’d experienced a surge of energy so powerful I’d lost control of my faculties. Even now, the energy was still there, but I could think … a little. I wanted to break something, throw something, maybe fly out over the water and—

  “Slow your burn!” a voice shouted from nearby.

  I looked around for the voice—possibly to smash it—and saw Felix hovering about twenty feet away.

  “It’s in your belly!” he shouted. “You’re digesting too quickly! Slow it down!”

  Was I hearing things? Nobody could choose to digest something more slowly. Our virtual bodies didn’t work that way. Nonetheless, I focused my thoughts inward and thought about the bran muffin—and wonder of all, an inner control that hadn’t been there before asserted itself. I could feel how the supercharged pastry sat in my stomach like radioactive yellowcake, steadily being consumed by my stomach acids.

  Slow! I ordered those stomach acids.

  The blazing energy I’d felt before evaporated, leaving me weak near to the point of falling unconscious.

  Tumbling through air…

  From half a mile up…

  Hurtling toward the stranded hulk of the Royal Banshee at meteoric speeds…

  Way above me, Felix was shouting new instructions, but I’d already figured it out.

  Burn! I ordered. Then added, But slower!

  Sudden strength suffused my body, and I found I could hold myself in the air by force of will alone.

  “That’s it!” Felix shouted excitedly. “Now land!”

  Stomach gurgling, I began a slow, controlled descent to the deck of the ship. When I landed, a cheer erupted from the crew.

  “Wow,” Elfie said, “we can actually fly safely here.”

  “Had to find out somehow,” Felix said.

  I stared between the two of them and struggled with a feeling of mild betrayal. “You said we could fly! You weren’t sure?”

  Felix patted me on the back. “Got a special recipe if you die. All I do is make a little man out of dough, add some Resin of Life and a bit of your hair. When I eat that, a conjoined fetus grows from my back. Incredibly unpleasant. An hour later, it splits off and you get a message asking if you want to be rezzed.” He chuckled merrily. “The components for the resin are hideously expensive, but I don’t mind. Besides, a single fleckulent will replace the resin easily—and anything else, for that matter. Say, have you checked your character sheet yet?”

  “Huh? No. Hold on…”

  I checked my sheet and saw a number of surprising changes. My strength, agility, and vitality scores were all sitting at 100—the latter missing more than 300 points.

  “Great,” I said, “I’m weaker than before. But hey, at least I can fly.”

  Felix sighed. “Digest a little faster. Reach inward. It works like a muscle you never knew you had.”

  As instructed, I closed my eyes and reached out … and felt something clench inside that had never been there before. I squeezed a little tighter and felt a surge of power. When I checked my sheet, all my stats had jumped by 500 points—and my health jumped to 6000.

  “The more you digest,” Felix sa
id, “the more powerful you become.”

  “But at a price,” Elfie said.

  I opened my eyes and glanced at her. “Lemme guess: If I digest too quickly, the muffin runs out and I gotta eat another. Then I get fat and everyone laughs at me.”

  To my surprise, she didn’t smile.

  “No,” she said. “As you digest, you burn a percentage of the XP required for your next level. The more you digest, the more you lose. You can actually lose levels if you’re not careful. It’s fairly safe for sub-100s. You level so quickly it hardly matters. But Felix and I never eat them. Twenty million XP a level is too much to burn away.”

  I checked my sheet, but couldn’t remember what my progress had been. My level was still 85, though… I checked my game logs and gasped at what I saw: Every second that passed, I lost 20 XP, or 72 thousand XP an hour.

  Alarmed, I said, “Quick! What do I do? How do I stop it?”

  “Just stop it,” Felix said, exasperated.

  I reached out and squelched all digestion. This left me weak and dizzy. When it passed, I checked my sheet again and sighed with relief.

  “It’s stopped.”

  Felix said, “I suggest when we go out, you cast your Return spell. Just in case.”

  “It’s still in effect,” I said.

  “And just remember,” Elfie said, “the stronger you make yourself, the more you burn. Check your logs from when you shot into the air.”

  I scrolled back farther. During that brief explosion of power, I’d burned 100 XP a second. In total, I’d lost close to 18 thousand XP since my first bite.

  “You really should have warned me,” I said, then felt a stab of guilt for berating him. Felix was odd, but not malicious.

  “I don’t know why, but he always does that to people,” Elfie said.

  Felix sighed. “If he fell, I would have caught him. Anyway, it’s good that you’re afraid. Means you’ll be extra cautious during our hunt.”

  “And when’s that?” I said.

  “Now, if you’re ready.”

  I looked out over the alien, undersea landscape glistening in the midday sun. A new zone I’d never seen before, waiting to be explored…