Dean Adams

Health: 115/115

Stamina: 100/100

Mana: 100/100

Status:

Level: 4

Experience: 503/750

Rank: None

Title: None

Class: None

Role: None

Party: Unnamed

Alliances: None

Allegiances: None

Stats

Strength

13

Perception

10

Charisma

10

Endurance

13

Intelligence

10

Poise

10

Agility

13

Wisdom

10

Constitution

10

Dexterity

13

Fortitude

10

Luck

13

Skills:

Herbalist – Level 2

Herb Lore – Level 2

Hunting – Level 3

Butchering – Level 4

Animal Skinning – Level 4

Looting – Level 3

Ranged Weapons – Level 2

Archery – Level 3

Scan – Level 3

Abilities: None

Spells: None

Enchantments: None

Attributes: None

Dean woke with a start. He scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to remember the dream that had woken him up. The only thing he could remember clearly was falling from a cliff, but there had been something about a little girl. It was all a jumble in his head.

He tried to go back to sleep but ended up just tossing and turning, until the need to relieve his bladder forced him out of bed. He sat up, the room tilting at the movement, and his head started pounding as the blood rushed from his head. It felt like he had shoved cotton balls and sandpaper into his mouth before going to bed and continued to chew on them throughout the night.

He cautiously crawled out of bed and made his way to the water pitcher on the dresser. Aside from the bed and dresser, the only other furniture in the room was a chest at the foot of the bed where he supposed people could store valuables when they were sleeping.

In his foul mood last night, he hadn’t bothered to get undress before climbing onto the bed, laying above the covers as he stared at the ceiling before falling asleep, so he spent the night with his sword hilt jabbed into his ribs. While the game didn’t count it as an injury on his health points, the ribs felt sore and were a bit tender to the touch.

The thought of his foul mood last night reminded him of the reason for it. He hadn’t been worried about being transferred, not really since the developers had announced they were working on it, though the delay in his own transfer had put him on edge the longer he waited. Had he actually been transferred? He had no idea and no way to check. Going to bed before it happened had been a stupid idea. He should’ve let his friends prank him. At least that way, he’d know for sure whether his body was now in a hospital somewhere, machines beeping as it recorded his vitals.

What he’d really been annoyed at was how everyone didn’t seem to care that they were stuck in the game. How they’d treated it as a chance to party, like an unexpected holiday. Actually, they treated it as though the whole affair was an announcement that school would be closed thanks to bad weather. More like college, with all the drinking after the announcement.

Except, it wasn’t a snow day. It was a glitch in the system, with no way of knowing when it’d be fixed or what had happened. All they had was a promise that someone, somewhere was working on it. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it. That’s what bothered him the most.

He shook his head, trying to break out of his thoughts before settling into another foul mood, and almost vomited as the world tilted dangerously around him. The developers had screwed up the logout process, but they hadn’t forgotten to program hangovers. Of course, the game had hangovers, why would anyone want to drink, get drunk, and not experience agony the following morning? He couldn’t think of anyone that would want that.

He poured a glass of water from the pitcher, swished a mouthful around before spitting it out into the basin, and repeated the process a few times before chugging a glass. It helped with the cotton mouth, but added to the pressure in his bladder.

He spotted a chamber pot under the bed. The thought of using it, of the smell filling the room, made him gag. He was too used to modern amenities. Another ticket to pass on to the developers once they’d fixed the bigger issue: Plumbing and no hangovers.

He headed down the stairs and into the main room, where two bleary-eyed maids raised questioning eyebrows at him as he passed on the way to the backdoor. He barely paid attention to them, just enough to wave them away, as he weaved his way around the tables they were scrubbing.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, the first rays of false dawn painting the horizon orange, and a stiff morning breeze tugged at his clothes and raised goosebumps on his arms. Once done, he walked back into the bar where one of the maids directed him to the kitchens for food.

Despite the early hour, the kitchen was already bustling with activity. A large fire roared as a young boy turned a spit of roasting meat and assistants scurried to prepare various ingredients under the watchful eye of the chef.

The chef was a large woman with blonde hair, so pale it was almost white, and a foreboding stare that sent everyone in the kitchen jumping. She took one look at him as he entered and harrumphed. “Nothing’s ready yet. So you’re out of luck if you want something hot. Best I can do if you’re hungry now is some leftover bread from last night and some cheese.”

“That’d be fine, ma’am.” Dean replied quickly, not wanting to draw her ire. She pointed to a stool near the fire and barked at one of the assistants to fetch him a plate. He watched completely fascinated by the kitchen but couldn’t place his finger on what was so odd about it. It looked like a perfectly normal kitchen as far as he could tell, though he’d never worked in one before. But he’d watched enough cooking shows to know that, aside from being a medieval kitchen, nothing about it was truly out of the ordinary.

Giving up solving the riddle, he studied the actual food prep as the assistant’s cut up various components. Thanks to the cooking shows, he knew the difference between slicing, dicing and mincing. Apparently, knowing the difference was enough to earn him a new skill.

Congratulations, You’ve learned the Skill Cooking

He wasn’t surprised that cooking was a skill, not with everything else he’d already encountered, but was curious what value cooking could have in the game. He pulled up his page and found it.

Cooking: The practice or skill of preparing food by combining, mixing and heating ingredients. Advancing this skill increases the healing properties of each prepared food item and can include additional benefits based on ingredients used.

That was interesting. Instead of relying on creating or buying alchemy potions to restore health, he could use everything they butchered to do the same thing.

Deciding it could be a useful skill to level up a bit, he stood up, stretched and asked the chef, “Anything I can do to help?”

She leveled her gaze at him. He didn’t flinch, at least he hoped not noticeably, and tried to give her a disarming smile. She didn’t return it. “You any good?”

“No, ma’am.” He answered truthfully, “But I’m a quick learner.”

"We’ll see about that. No good letting you burn the kitchen down, so start by peeling those potatoes.” She pointed near the sink, where a small stack of potatoes waited for him. He grinned at her and nodded. She smacked him on the wrist when he started to pull out his hunting knife. “You’ll cut your own arm off with that. Use this.” She handed him a small blade, called a paring knife.

He leveled the skill up once before finishing, then was instructed on how to dice them evenly, which leveled him to three. After that, he thanked her for letting him help, to which she rolled her eyes and jabbed him gently with the wooden spoon she carried around, apparently to hit people with instead of using it to stir, before shooing him out of the kitchen.

His first stop was to buy his own set of cooking gear from the blacksmith, then the fletcher to buy fifty steel arrows, and stopped at the alchemy shop for ten potions. He still had a decent amount of money, but couldn’t think of how he wanted to spend it, so decided to head back to the inn.

He found Ryan in a conversation with a large group of other players by the now lit fireplace. Will and Ben were sitting at a table near the bar, eating a breakfast in silence. He joined them. “Morning.”

Will groaned, “Not so loud.” Ben mumbled, “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Not at all.” He said cheerfully, stifling a laugh as they winced. “How’re you two feeling?”

“Like cutting someone’s tongue out if they don’t talk quieter.” Ben replied as angrily as he could in a whisper.

Dean laughed but decided not to continue torturing his friends any longer. Instead, he watched them eat in silence until Ryan arrived. After a few minutes, the group by the fireplace broke up, and Ryan wandered over.

“Hey,” Ryan said louder than necessary as they approached the table. He glanced between the two as he said it, a small smiling tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What was that about?” Dean asked as Ryan grabbed a seat opposite him, ignoring the other two as they muttered death threats.

“What was what about?”

“That group you were talking to.”

“Oh,” Ryan shrugged, “I sent a message out asking if there were any pastors or psychologists in town and arranged a meeting. That was everyone that showed up.”

“Why? Trying to start a religion in the game?”

“I figured we could start a group that helps other players who are upset about getting stuck in the game like you were last night. Feeling any better?”

“Had to process it, you know.” Dean said, “I made a decision last night before falling asleep that I might as well use the time we’re stuck in here and try to level up as much as possible.”

Ryan shrugged, “Might as well, though I plan on helping anyone that needs someone to talk to about this with the others I met this morning. At least while I’m in town.”

“We ready to head out then?” Dean asked, mainly to the other two.

Ryan chuckled, “I doubt it. They stayed up drinking much later than either of us.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked.

“I heard them go to bed sometime around three in the morning. They were completely wasted.” Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the two had continued drinking after that in one of the rooms.

“It wasn’t three in the morning.” Ben complained, his voice a bit steadier now that he’d finished half his breakfast and drank two mugs of water.

“No, he’s probably right.” Will said, “I think I remember the barkeep complaining about how late it was.”

“Why didn’t he just go to bed?” Dean asked.

“He owns a business,” Will pointed out, “And there were a lot of people willing to buy a lot of drinks last night. He probably made more than he normally does in a month. Maybe a year.”

“It’s a game.” Ben said, “He doesn’t know anything about economics.”

It finally clicked.

“Guys,” Dean said slowly. They all glanced at him with puzzled looks on their faces, “I had a weird encounter with the chef this morning.” He paused as he tried to figure out how to explain it.

“Just spit it out,” Will said testily.

“The chef didn’t act like an NPC.”

“So? Maybe it’s a player." Will suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Dean replied, “Why would anyone want to be a chef in game?”

Ryan smacked himself on the forehead, ““I haven’t told you about Shiro.”

“Who?”

“A developer I met last night. He’s stuck in the game, too.” Ryan explained his conversation with Shiro.

Afterwards, Dean leaned back in his chair with a grunt, “So they’re all in the game?”

“Not all of them.” Ryan corrected, “But most are.”

“Doesn’t change my decision. We’re stuck, so we might as well do something useful.”

“We should buy some supplies before we go.” Ben said between mouthfuls, “Some potions and spells.”

“I’ve already been out this morning.” Ryan explained, “Bought an alchemy set.”

“Same.” Dean said, “And cooking gear.”

“Cooking gear?” Ben scoffed.

“Hey, it’s a skill.” Dean countered defensively, “It replenishes health and can boost stats apparently.”

“A game full of magic and he decides to pursue cooking.” Ben shook his head in mock shame. “That boy ain’t right.”

“That’s my line,” Ryan replied, “You don’t get to use it.”

“Hey, it’s a quote, so fair game.”

“That I use all the time, so it’s mine.”

“You can’t claim quotes.”

“I just did. I’m invoking the right of the eldest.”

“The right of what?” Ben looked at the others for support. “You just made that rule up.”

“There’s no right of eldest, Ryan. It’s bullshit and you know it.” Will shoveled a few more big bites into his mouth before pushing his plate away. “And you can’t use that quote, Ben. He’s used it for years and we make fun of him for it.” He downed the rest of his drink, which Dean was surprised to realize was a pint of beer.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?” Dean asked.

“Nah,” Will laughed, “I’m on vacation right now. Besides, it’s not like I’m driving anywhere.”

“Just make sure you’re not too drunk for fighting monsters.” Dean chided.

“Yes, mother.” Will mocked.

Ryan shook his head as he asked, “What happens if you’re too drunk to stand when a monster attacks you?”

Will shrugged, “I’ll just stab him.”

“And if it doesn’t die?” Dean asked.

“Then,” Will countered, “I’ll pull the sword back out, then I’ll stab him again. It’s called the stabby-stabby technique. It’s very effective.”

“You’re an idiot.” Dean said.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Maybe, but you’re dumber than me.”

“You’re dumber plus one.”

Dean shook his head with a smile at the childhood reference. He couldn’t help himself in replying, “You’re dumber plus infinity.”

Will laughed, “You’re dumber times infinity.”

“You’re dumber to infinity.”

“Both of you ain’t right.” Ryan cut in. He pushed his seat back from the table and stood up, “Now, if you two are finished, we can head out.”

“Anything else we need to buy?” Dean asked the others as he did the same.

“I’d like to check out a few spells.” Ben stood up as he rubbed his hands together.

They left the bar, heading down the main thoroughfare to the mage’s shop, Ben practically skipping a few paces ahead of them.

The shop was completely filled with bookshelves. All of them were filled with books, scrolls and strange objects, many of which glowed in the dim interior. The shopkeeper was a man, but it was impossible to tell much beyond that since he was wearing a thick robe that enveloped his body, and a raspy voice. “Greetings, sirs. You’re interested in the arcane arts? Please, take a look at my wares and let me know if I can be of any service.”

Will glanced at the others, “You don’t want to know if we’re buying or selling?”

“My goods are on display.” The man gestured at the bookshelves, “And, if you’re selling, please show me what you have so I can offer a price.”

Will glanced at Dean. “The chef isn’t the only one, apparently.”

“Told you.” Dean said as he walked down the aisle that Ben had disappeared into. He found Ben near the center, his finger tracing each book as he went.

“Summon undead warrior, duh. And fireball because boom.” Ben muttered to himself as pulled each off the shelf, laughing in a sinister, evil genius way. “Definitely Drain and probably should do Ice shard, just in case.”

Dean turned to the shelf, glancing at each book as he decided on what to purchase. The books had different prices, but he could afford two of the basic spell books. He ignored all of the attack spells, knowing he hadn’t leveled up his intelligence, so they’d be less effective than his sword.

He found a spell called Scaled Flesh, a spell that increased his armor rating by five as long as he had the stamina to sustain it, and another called Warrior’s Aura, that provided a plus one to each of his physical stats for thirty seconds. It had a cooldown period of an hour, and cost forty mana to cast, but the bonuses were worth the price in his opinion.

He purchased and read the books, then headed outside with the others as they waited for Ben to finish up, hearing him giggling between the bookshelves, calling out that he’d only be a minute more.

Ten minutes later, Ben emerged from the shop, rubbing his hands together gleefully as he said, “We need to find some enemies.”

Once past the city gates, they followed the road towards the farming community and stone bridge. A few hundred paces along, the ground beneath them shook and roiled. Dean jumped out of the way, drawing his sword in the process and spinning around ready to fight. Instead, he found Ben standing next to a shallow grave, a skeleton warrior half emerged, bent over double in laughter as he wheezed, “You should see your faces.”

“Warn us next time.” Will growled, “Or I’ll kill it and you.”

“I know, I know,” Ben said between gasps, “But I couldn’t resist. It was too perfect.” The skeleton warrior had climbed out of its grave and stood, swaying slightly as he held a large sword in its hand, “Guys, meet Fido. Fido, met the guys.” He patted it on the shoulder, “They’re friends, so be nice.” He checked his status page, “Hey, that blows. Casting the spell doesn’t level it up.” He pursed his lips as he read, “Experience gain is based on the damage it causes.” He started walking towards the bridge, ignoring the others annoyed expressions, “Come on, Fido. Let’s go find you something to kill.”

The passed through the farming community, or that’s what Dean had decided to start calling it, and the villagers shied away from the undead warrior. Children ran, terrified, to their mother’s aprons, who promptly ushered them inside where they stood at the door wielding a rolling pin or pot as they eyed the group wearily.

“I don’t think they like Fido, Ben.” Dean said.

“They just don’t know him like I do. They’ll warm up to him.” Ben said cheerfully.

“I don’t think they will. And you literally just summoned him for the first time, how can you know anything about him?”

Ben scoffed, “Because I summoned him. He’s completely obedient to me,” He hesitated, “Unless there’s a spell out there that can take control of him. I didn’t see one in the shop, but they didn’t have a big selection.”

“You’re saying there’s a chance someone could take control of it?” Ryan asked.

“Maybe,” Ben shrugged not worried by the possibility, “Who knows, right? A million ways to play the game and all that.” Ben started humming. “Ignore the villagers and let’s find something to kill already. I need to try out a few new things.”

They crossed the bridge, and deeper into the woods before Ben’s stamina ran out, and Fido sank into a small sinkhole that formed at his feet, dragging him into the roiling dirt as it closed up around him.

They continued exploring the woods, traveling in a Northeastern direction away from the town and river for most of the day, hunting small animals as they went and Dean using his new foraging skill to collect a few vegetables and plants, as Ryan collected alchemy ingredients before stumbling onto a small clearing in the trees at the bottom of a ravine where a camp had been setup.

They approached, moving from tree to tree to keep from being spotted, until they reached the edge of the tree line. From his vantage point, Dean could only see the two nearest tents and the center of the camp between them, where a small fire of dying embers burned. They watched for any sign of movement, barely daring to breath until they knew who or what the occupants of the camp were, and what level they were at. After several minutes passed without movement, Will signaled for him to move into the camp.

Dean crept forward, wishing he had a dozen more eyes, to the nearest tent. He tugged at the flap, just enough to peek inside, where he found an empty bedroll and a few items littered around the floor. He moved to the next and found the same.

He moved along the side of the tent until he could see the rest of the camp. The sight raised the hairs at the back of his neck. There were eight tents surrounding the fire, with long slashes across their canvas. Two were completely shredded, the remnants fluttering lazily in the wind, and everything inside had been tossed out into the center of the camp.

Then his eyes fell on the large spots of stained, flattened grass. The stains were the dark red, almost black, of congealed blood. He swallowed, glanced around the tree line in case the attackers were still nearby, but he didn’t see any sign that they were hiding, before leaving the cover of the tent.

He took a few tentative steps forward, waited to see if something would happen, before taking the dozen steps to reach the edge of the fire. He stood up, his shoulders tense and knuckles white on his sword hilt, as turned a slow circle.

Ryan had moved forward, to the edge of the tent, and held up a hand for him to stay put. Easy for him, Dean thought, he’s not in the line of fire. And wait for what?

He heard a noise of someone walking through the brush. He whirled around to see Will and Ben emerging from the trees. Will said, “There’s no one here, but it’s definitely the raider camp.” Will tossed a tunic at Dean. He caught it and scanned it.

Raider Tunic

Quality: Crude

Rarity: Common

Damage Resist: 3-5

Durability: 2/5

Weight: 1 lbs

Attributes: None

“What happened to them?” He asked.

“They’re probably dead.” Ryan answered as he joined them, “That’s a lot of blood.”

“Yeah,” Dean said sarcastically, “I gathered that much. I mean who killed them?”

He jumped as a notification popped up.

Title: Bandit Raids, Part 2

Reward: Gold and XP

Description: The Bandits are dead. Report back to Torial for your reward to close the quest.

Or

Investigate what killed the bandits. Completing may result in additional rewards and potentially more quests.

“I guess that answers that question.” He muttered, “Finish the quest or press on?”