Underpowered Howard: A LitRPG Adventure

by John L. Monk

  Felix leaned over the railing, his face a mask of worry and frustration.

  At the last second, his wife’s lithe form exploded from the sea trailing water like exhaust from a rocket—but in the wrong direction. Her lungs must have been bursting for her to lose control like that.

  Beside me, white spools of magic macaroni shot out from both of Felix’s hands. One lashed around the mast, and the other caught Elfie around the middle. He screamed in pain as the strain threatened to tear him in half, but it worked—she halted in the air.

  “Hurry!” I shouted.

  Way out over the frothy water, a massive snakelike form vaulted into the air and crashed down, heading straight toward us with the speed of a torpedo.

  “Help!” Felix shouted.

  Tapping the remnants of my own muffin, I grabbed hold and heaved mightily. Elfie jerked in our direction, eating up the distance.

  “Got her!” Felix shouted as she slammed into him, knocking him down.

  Overhead, the Leviathan darkened the sky in a long, sinuous swoop that just missed the topsails before disappearing into the sea.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Looking at the water with my legs dangling over the side, it was hard to imagine only a month ago we were plunging down worm tubes to assist a giant turtle—one who’d thanked us with the most valuable crafting material in the game. Since then, we’d passed clear through Ward 3 into Ward 4. The Island of Yes Return was two weeks out.

  The Tormegazon encounter had sealed the fate on my bad karma. By foregoing my cut of the fleckulents, it had returned to a healthy thirty-nine percent.

  There had been no sighting of Jane, the paladin, or the ships she’d hired. Elfie and Felix were convinced she’d given up long ago. Having looked into the woman’s eyes, I wasn’t so sure. She was a zealot who lived by a code that went far beyond the bounds of a normal gaming lifestyle. I’d met others like her in my travels. People who’d clung too tightly to the Mythian reality and had forgotten who they used to be. Many refused to talk about character sheets, stats, cooldowns, or even item descriptions. Others had turned off logging, maps, notifications, and quest tracking in pursuit of a pure experience. They thought the game was real.

  “Do you want some company?” Elfie said from behind me.

  I turned around. “Pull up a seat. Where’s Felix?”

  “He’s a baking machine right now, and he’s never been happier. Working on the revenge cake. It requires strict concentration on his part, and perfect timing.”

  “Too bad it goes flat so quickly,” I said. “Protection from true death would be worth a fortune. And it is delicious…”

  Elfie laughed. “Rich and delicious, just like life.”

  Something occurred to me and it must have shown.

  “What are you thinking?” she said.

  “Oh, nothing…”

  Elfie nudged me. “Out with it.”

  “Well, given that Felix is so rich now, I’m wondering if you two will keep leading these little adventures to Ward 4.”

  “There’s so much wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to begin.”

  Smiling, I said, “Like what?”

  “I’m rich too,” she said, patting the large pocket where she kept her Portable Hoard. “We may be married, but we split the loot fifty-fifty. That way, he can do things he wants and I can do things I want. Much better this way. As for these little adventures—if we hadn’t gone on this one, we wouldn’t have met you. In fact, once this business of yours is over, we were hoping you’d join us as a permanent teammate. There’s a lovely vacancy in Sandpiper Vista if you don’t mind us coming over all the time talking your ears off.”

  Though I felt flattered, the situation was complicated by the fact that I still wanted to leave Mythian. That said, I liked these two. They made the world more interesting in an absurd-yet-terrifying kind of way.

  “You don’t have to answer now, you big silly,” she said. “Just keep it in mind.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. I promise to think about it.”

  With my karma back to normal, the last two weeks plodded along with incredible slowness. Rather than die of boredom staring out over the waves day in and day out, I’d taken up fishing using a rod and reel on loan from Felix. He’d had it for ages but had never used it.

  Everyone teased me, especially the lucids. “He’s trying to catch the Leviathan!” they’d say. Or, “The lad’s sick of the dwarf’s cooking!”

  Sitting at the rail with my legs dangling over, I’d pull up marlins, tunas, cod, snapper, rockfish—and the occasional horror from the briny depths, which Elfie quickly burned down to everyone’s delight.

  Each night, Felix would cook the fish the old-fashioned way using non-magical recipes. There was more than enough, so I didn’t mind sharing it with the crew. I even sent a plate up every night to our miserable captain, only to have it turned back each time. He never came on deck anymore. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but there was something troubling about the situation. Yes, the crew appeared loyal to me, not him. And no, he wasn’t causing mischief anymore now that the crew had disposed of his red-coated marines. But much like with Hard Mode players, lucids needed to eat. Would he drop dead of starvation? Did he have stores of his own in there? Did he slip out when no one was looking and raid the galley?

  With the return of my karma, we agreed to dispense with the watch rotation. Now I could speak to both of them at the same time without a lot of yawning.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Elfie said when I told them my fears.

  Felix said, “All the wine and liquor is stored with the captain to keep it from the crew. He’s probably drinking his dinner every night! Don’t you worry about him.”

  Their words offered little comfort. Mythian abhors a vacuum. Sidelining the captain might have been fun—definitely justified—but the nature of the Royal Banshee was to be a ship with an unhappy crew and a sadistic captain. Instead of that, the crew was overjoyed and the captain might actually be on a hunger strike.

  As far as I was concerned, the sooner we reached the island, the better.

  “Land, ho!” the lookout shouted overhead.

  This was received with cheers from the crew and officers.

  Elfie and Felix came up from below to see, then declared it time to eat Marie Antoinette’s Revenge. After adding the final pinch of salt to a pan filled with batter, the cake exploded upward into a white tower of sculpted, sugary glory. Just as delicious as last time, and we ate every crumb before it went flat.

  “With this breeze,” Felix said later, “we’ll reach it this afternoon.”

  The breeze was light but steady at six knots, and the bottom deep and sandy for miles in every direction. This allowed the helmsman to tack infrequently and at the best possible times.

  “What’s that?” Elfie said, pointing ahead.

  “What’s what?” I said, squinting but not seeing anything.

  Felix chuckled. “Don’t bother unless you have elven eyes. My dear, what is it that you see?”

  “Storm clouds.”

  “We’ve weathered storms before,” he said. “We’ll reef and get there by evening.”

  Elfie shook her head, still gazing at the horizon, brow furrowed in concentration. Despite Felix’s seeming lack of concern, he watched too. We both did. This was Ward 4, after all. It was a long way back from Brighton if we died.

  In time, everyone saw the clouds. They didn’t span the horizon like a normal storm front. No, they bunched up tightly over one spot.

  “Right in front of the island,” Felix said. “Or I’m a bearded goblin.”

  A while later, the lookout delivered the news I’d been dreading since Good Riddance: “Ship! Bearing oh-three-oh, dead in the water! Range seven miles!”

  The Royal Banshee cleared for action. Netting was erected, fire buckets situated, and barrels full of weapons placed at the base of our three masts and in the waist of the ship. Down below, I heard the cannons being made ready.


  “It’s her,” I said.

  Minutes later, one of the officers—a lieutenant named Oswald—approached me. “Orders, sir?”

  I looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m not the captain.”

  Oswald cast a furtive glance at the captain’s door. “I understand he’s indisposed, sir. Until he is otherwise, we will need orders.”

  I glanced at Elfie, who nodded encouragingly.

  “What sort of orders would you like?” I said.

  “With respect, sir, should we make port at the Island of Yes Return? If so, we will most certainly cross paths with that other ship. The crew worries it’s one of the three you’re looking for. This one appears to have more guns. Victory, thus, is not assured.”

  “What do you suggest?” I said.

  “Dump the cannons over the side and run, carrying every sail. Not the bravest choice, but a wise one.”

  “I need to get to that island,” I said. “Can we go around them? Use the storm somehow?”

  “The storm appears conjured, sir. It stands ready to propel our enemies toward us should we attempt to flee. As we are currently heading toward them, they are content to wait for us.”

  “So, they have a conjurer,” I said thoughtfully, then sighed. “We still have time.”

  “A little, sir.”

  “Keep our course. Be ready for any change in orders.”

  Lieutenant Oswald snapped a sharp salute. “Aye aye, sir.”

  He returned to his station on the quarterdeck.

  “What’s the plan to save us all?” Elfie said.

  I gave her a flat look. “If we turn around, they’ll catch us. If we keep going, we’re dead. How’s that?”

  “We could always make for land,” Felix said.

  At his words, their eyes glazed over. They were checking their maps. I did too, though everything a half-mile out was a gray mass of unexplored terrain.

  Elfie grunted in disappointment. “We’re too far from the continent.”

  Softly, I said, “I could always Give Up.”

  “And why would you do that?” she said.

  In answer, I looked at the men at their battle stations.

  “But they’re lucids,” she said. “Do you know how many Lieutenant Oswalds I’ve met over the years?”

  I shook my head. “No offense, but for me, it seems too easy to think of them as people when times are good, only to fall back on, ‘Oh, they’re just lucids’ when things go south.”

  Elfie, I saw, was looking at her feet when I said this. Now I felt like a sanctimonious blowhard.

  Felix said, “I think you came to the wrong world, Howard, but I agree in principle. But please—promise me you’re not going to give yourself up.”

  I snorted and shook my head. “An easy promise. I’ll kill myself and rez in Brighton before that. That said…”

  They watched me expectantly, and I felt myself smiling.

  “He’s got a plan!” Elfie said. She spun in a circle with elf-like grace. “I can always tell because he gets that sneaky look in his eyes.”

  Felix peered closely at me. “You know, he does look slightly more sneaky than a few minutes ago… Either that or he’s seasick.”

  “First,” I said, “we need to get closer to them. Preferably without getting blown out of the water. After that, we’ll see. Hold on a sec, I’ll tell Oswald.”

  I gave the details to Oswald, then smiled at the triumph on his face. After he left, I rejoined Elfie and Felix at the rail to watch as the ship’s launch was lowered. It cut through the waves bearing a simple message: We wished to parley.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Jane’s equally short reply ordered us to steer to within cannon-shot. We did so under the failing breeze, then swung to a stall and dropped sails.

  The island was easily visible now, and so was Jane's frigate—a larger ship with half again as many guns as ours. She carried a soaring press of sail, as yet untouched by the magical storm overhead, which seemed to be sucking up all the wind and storing it. Of the two other ships she’d supposedly hired, there was no sign.

  Jane's voice, magically amplified, blared over the gentling sea:

  “Underpowered Howard! I was told by a little bird you included two others in your insane plan. My guess is they’re simply dupes and have no idea why they’re even here. This message is to them: You will incapacitate Howard and prepare to be boarded. He’s too low level to stop you, so it should be easy. Be warned that at the first sign of trouble, your boat will be destroyed. Do not forget: This is Ward 4. You get ten lives. After that, you die for good.”

  Elfie grinned and gestured sort-of with one hand.

  Jane continued: “If you’re worried about Howard, don’t be. He will experience utter bliss for the rest of his days, of that I can assure you. You have ten minutes. For every minute longer you take, I’ve ordered a full broadside to be fired into you. My guess is you won’t survive the first volley. For your sake, I hope you listen, because I never bluff.”

  Felix looked at me. “Is that true? She never bluffs?”

  I smiled, but my stomach was doing backflips. Utter bliss? What had she meant by that?

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Oh, crap crap crap.”

  “What what what?” Felix said.

  “I can’t be caught,” I said. “If I do, I’m as good as dead. You heard what she said: I’ll experience utter bliss for the rest of my days. She plans to take me to Ward 2—to face the Dryad.”

  The Dryad was an overpowered creature that had previously lived in Ward 1, only to be relocated to Ward 2 by the new god, Ethan. Afterward, he’d erected signs around the location telling one and all the true nature of the Dryad—that she was invisible to women, and seduced men into slavery with almost no chance at resisting her, regardless of the player’s sexuality. In a further break from the behavior of his fellow gods, Ethan had even laid out the mechanics of this entrapment. First, she’d force you to bind yourself to her tree. This would allow her to recapture you if you died. She’d then begin draining you at 50 health a day. Every month, that number would double until it reached 500 a day. Most players in Ward 2 could survive this, and I’d be able to easily. But my life would essentially be over—my mind and will stolen from me.

  I shook my head in disappointment. Here I’d thought that deep down, under all the paladin stuffiness, Jane was probably an okay sort of person.

  “She won’t catch anyone,” Felix said matter-of-factly. “Even if she did, as soon as you crossed into Ward 2, you’d be given a choice to fight the bridge guardian. Simply choose Yes and you’ll be teleported to the single-person instance for your battle. Easy peasy.”

  Elfie shook her head. “No, not easy peasy. You only get the choice once. After that, he can be tied up and dragged between the wards if she wants.”

  Felix swore. “Forgot about that. Sorry.”

  This aspect of the game—low-levels sneaking into higher wards—was still too new for me.

  “When do we do it?” Elfie said with a dangerous light in her eyes.

  The first part of the plan was to feign surrender. The closer the two ships were, the better our chances.

  I was about to order Oswald to bring us in slow and unthreatening when a howl of rage from the captain’s cabin made me flinch. I whirled to see him standing just outside his door, bottle of rum in hand, face florid with drunken outrage.

  “I will not surrender my ship! Run out the guns!” he shouted.

  This last was yelled behind him, into the port-side gun deck, which fronted the entrance to his cabin. In the unnaturally dead air, the ships were now facing each other almost gun to gun.

  Captain Richards yelled, “Fire low, men! Hull her with explosive shot! Though we shall die, we will take her down with us!”

  The lucid sailors’ imperative to fight was too powerful to resist. One by one, they fired a series of shots aft to fore, aiming low as directed. The first shots struck a shield and exploded, but the next slipped throug
h the brief opening created. Whether the volley had scored, we wouldn’t know for some time.

  The enemy had been caught by surprise, but it didn’t last long.

  “Elfie—shields!” Felix shouted.

  A hopeless effort. Wizard shields weren’t meant to defend against a cannonade. She managed to stop perhaps six out of the twenty-four fired. Most struck home, carrying away our mainmast and blasting the deck to bits. Men screamed and died around us, and that’s when I realized Elfie hadn’t been protecting the ship at all, but rather us.

  “I’m empty,” she said. “That damned idiot captain! Hold on—we’re doing it early!”

  Elfie ran across the smashed and splintered terrain to the bow. She grabbed the foremast, then cast her Telekinesis spell, with the opposing ship’s mizenmast as the target. We’d worked it out ahead of time. In order to move that much weight, she’d have to tap one of Felix’s delecto-muffins.

  The pull from the front of our ship against Jane’s stern launched us together at a timber-groaning rate of speed.

  My part in all this had been to wait and “not get killed.” Given that the helmsman was missing, I took his place.

  Overhead, storm clouds rumbled and a stiff breeze whipped up, dragging Jane's ship toward us even faster. Fearing a collision, I pulled hard on the wheel. Even so, we barely scraped past with inches to spare.

  I stared across the water at Jane, who stood watching me with a look of stunned outrage. Next to her was a group of what looked like gnomish conjurers, based on their ceremonial attire.

  “Hi Jane!” I shouted, waving gaily. “Small world, eh? Say hi to Rocko for me!”

  And then we were past, cutting toward the island under the power of inertia alone. The idea had been to beach sideways in the shallows. Sure, she might blast the ship to kindling, but we could fire back without fear of sinking. If she tried coming ashore, it’d be two high-levels against one.

  Unfortunately, we weren’t going to make it. The wind from the conjured storm took its toll on our progress and we stalled.