Chapter One
Thursday, November 28th, 2052, 14:21 OWO Server Time
Chilled mountain air blew against my face, a welcome sensation after a day of hiking in the sweltering heat. I didn’t need a bath, as body odor or grosser bodily functions hadn’t been programmed into OVR World Online. However, that didn’t mean a tub of hot water didn’t sound lovely right then. A hurried march through the mountains had not been anywhere on my list of wants or needs after surviving the trials of the First Player’s Tomb.
With that thought, I reached down to my waist. I wrapped my fingers around the grip of the artifact that hung there, The First Player’s Sword or just the Sword. The smooth brown leather grip of the longsword felt warm and comfortable in my hand. The magical blade thrummed with restrained power that sent goosebumps from my wrist to my shoulder. It took a conscious effort to release my grip and try to ignore the Sword’s presence at my hip.
Yet, with all its power and prestige, I had to question whether it had been worth everything we’d gone through to recover it. After all, we had lost my first true friend and mentor in this game, Lemorak. There was no way I would be where I was now without his tireless tutelage and trustworthy guidance. As I walked, I realized how much I would miss his leadership and friendship. He’d be able to jack back into OWO in a day, but it would be months before he leveled up enough to catch up with us.
The Orientation Zone of Gygax had some weird rules around respawning that seemed arbitrary and unfair to me. For example, anytime your character died in OVR World Online, you were automatically logged out of the system and couldn’t log back in for 48-hours.
You generally had two options if your character was slain anywhere except the OZ. For just the standard connection charge of 1,000 crypts, you could wipe your character and start over at level-0. If you didn’t want to lose all your progress, you could pay a higher fee, proportionate to your level. Your existing character would be respawned by an NPC Cleric at the nearest cemetery. The cost increased based on your level, and above level 10, the respawn also came with some temporary debuffs. Sometimes, worst of all, you dropped all the gear and half the coins you were carrying at death. When you respawned, it would be with cheap ass starter gear, but the rest of your character was saved. High-level spells could revive a fallen character on the battlefield, but they were expensive and not without drawbacks. However, none of that mattered when you died in the OZ. Then you had no options. It was an automatic wipe of your character to start over at level-0 in 48-hours.
Lemorak had fallen in the OZ. He would be eligible to start all over from scratch in about a day. Meanwhile, the timer was running down on our required departure from the valley. While I’d slept the previous night, the computer program I knew as the Doctor had paid me another visit. He’d arranged a quick face-to-face with Lemorak. I’d been glad for the time; however, there was no chance of the rest of the party even meeting up to say goodbye.
“Alright, from what I remember, the border of the OZ is just around that bend.” Macha pointed up the narrow mountain path that we followed all morning and into the afternoon.
Macha, Level 5 Monk of the Stalking Tiger Way, High Elf
Titles: Champion of the First Player’s Tomb, Goblin Slayer, Orc Slayer [more]
Conditions: Alert, Channeled Ki
Of our entire party, Macha was the only one of us that had ever left the OZ. She’d had three previous jack-ins, but she’d died after leaving the valley each time and hadn’t been able to afford the steeper inmate respawn fees. “There should be a little wide spot in the trail where we can scope things out.”
“We’ll be sitting ducks if any PKers are waiting to pick us off,” Bolton said, dour as usual. “Especially after that global announcement that Zee has the Sword.”
Bolton Glittertooth, Level 5 Sorcerer, Dragonkin
Titles: Champion of the First Player’s Tomb, Spellslinger, Boom-Mage, Goblin Slayer
Conditions: Mana Cycle, Contingency Spell
“That’s why we came this way,” Elias patiently reminded him for about the gazillionth time. I glanced at the handle over his head as the cleric continued to soothe Bolton’s grumps.
Brother Elias Stonetree, Level 5 Cleric of Mishakal, Half-Elf
Titles: Champion of the First Player’s Tomb, Adept Healer, Goblin Slayer [more]
Conditions: Alert, Mana Cycle, Enduring Faith
“...it’s not the most popular route out of the OZ. Much less likely anyone sees us with the Swor-”
“Stop!” At my sudden outburst, our party came to an unexpected halt on the path. “We can’t do anything about the announcement, but we need to watch what we say. Talking about the Sword will draw attention, though, and get us all killed!”
I paused for effect and locked gazes with each of my companions in turn with the fiercest glare I could muster. “From now on, we’ll just call it...” I paused and tried to think of a codename for the artifact, “...the MacGuffin.”
I mentally schooled myself to start thinking of the Sword that way, as the MacGuffin.
“That’s stupid. We can’t -” Bolton began.
“-Zee’s right,” Macha said. “We gotta watch our mouths, and calling it the MacGuffin is as good as anything.”
Elias nodded his agreement, and Bolton didn’t object any further. Standing beside me, Archer gave a huff of support, not that he’d be calling the Swor...err..the MacGuffin anything, since he couldn’t talk. My last companion, Bryn, was nowhere to be seen. She’d been slipping in and out of the near-invisibility provided by her Stealth skill all day.
“Let’s get moving,” I said and waved at the path ahead of us.
We’d been hiking since just after dawn, first traversing across the floor of Rowling Valley, then up into the towering snow-capped mountains. The Salvatore Mountains ringed the valley in a nearly perfect circle. No need to explain geographic symmetry when the terrain has been designed by programmers.
The easy exit from the valley was to the south. That’s where most players left the Orientation Zone. Over breakfast, we’d debated our path out of the valley. The southern route would have been a much easier trek. It led straight to the city of Corvin, but there would have also been a lot more eyes on us as we made our exit from the relative safety of the OZ. Outside Rowling Valley, Player-vs-Player combat, PvP, was extremely common. In fact, Player Killers, PKers, often lurked along the OZ’s border looking for easy prey.
Suffice to say, going out via the southern road wasn’t the safest option, even for your typical noobs. It was just the most direct. However, we were not typical noobs. After the announcement that I’d recovered the Sword...damn it...I mean the MacGuffin, the new titles attached to our handles that had come along with that achievement, and our fairly low levels, we’d be nearly irresistible targets. Even players not otherwise inclined to turn PKer might come after us just for the promise of a legendary magical artifact. So, instead of braving the southern exit, we’d opted for one of the less-traveled trails that took us east through this narrow mountain pass. Basically, we were sneaking out the side window, and I had absolutely no problem with that.
“Hoods up, everyone.” Elias pulled the hood of his clerical robes up. When he did, Elias’s identifying player tag still floated over his head but would vanish once we left the OZ, so long as he had the hood up.
Outside of Rowling, a raised hood caused all but a player’s level to disappear from his tag. Raised hoods and other designated headgear were the only way to walk around with relative anonymity in the wider game world.
“I can’t believe we’re actually here.” Despite the wonderment implied by his words, Bolton’s tone was melancholy as he pulled his own hood up over his draconic, golden, scale-covered head.
Letting out a long nervous sigh, I pulled the hood of my ranger’s cloak up. I tried to ignore the sudden racing of my simulated heart in my chest. A wolf, roughly the size of a male adult lion, Archer, bumped his body against my hip in silent reassurance. I gave him an appreciative scratch behind one ear. Being my animal companion, if my tag was obscured, his would be too.
Getting out into the rest of Gygax had been at the top of my To-Do List since close to the first day I’d jacked in. However, that was before our recovery of the MacGuffin had been announced to every player of OVR World Online. The moment I stepped foot outside of Rowling Valley, I’d be a target, and at only level 5, a pretty squishy one at that. Why bother winning such a prize on a quest where I lost my best friend in the game just to lose it to some PvP ass hat as soon as I get in the best part of the game? But then the MacGuffin was supposed to be much more than a powerful in-game artifact. It was also a key of some sort. A key to what exactly, I still wasn’t clear on.
“Nervous, lover?” Bryn whispered with evident excitement as she dropped her Stealth skill right beside me.
“Fuck!” I just about jumped out of my leather armor as the curvaceous dark elf seemed to materialize out of thin air.
How high is her fucking Stealth skill? I wondered for the umpteenth time. Bryn already had the deep hood of her inky black cloak pulled up, though a thick lock of her silvery-white hair had slipped free to glint in the afternoon sun. The obsidian-black skin of her face melted into the shadow cast by the hood, but her softly glowing red eyes illuminated her mischievous smirk.
Dirzbryn Baenmtor, Level 5 [Concealed]Assassin, Dark Elf
Titles: [Concealed] Champion of the First Player’s Tomb, Sneak, Goblin Slayer [more]
Conditions: [Concealed]Alert, Shrouded, Background [more]
“Easy, Sweety.” The dark elf lightly ran her doeskin-gloved hand down my forearm to the hand that had instinctively grabbed the hilt of the MacGuffin.
“Stop doing that!” I snapped while forcing my grip to relax.
The rest of the party had spun to face us at my startled cry, but they quickly relaxed their guard when they saw it was just Bryn playing her games again.
“Would you two get serious?” Macha sheathed her katana that I hadn’t even seen her draw.
“Unclench!” Beneath her hood, Bryn rolled her glowing ember-red eyes, then blew me a kiss. “Just having some fun.”
“I know this is just a game to you,” I said, not returning her flirtations despite the involuntary excited flutter she always gave my heart. “But the rest of us take our time here seriously. Stop dicking around!”
“I thought you enjoyed dicking around with me?” Bryn pouted with a put-upon sigh, then shrugged her slender shoulders. “At least that wasn’t so boring.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Macha beat me to it.
“I’m not even sure why you’re still here, to be honest.” Macha had fashioned a mask from a strip of her orange robe-like gi and was in the process of tying it around her head. It would conceal enough of her face to hide her player tag while not obstructing her hearing or peripheral vision like our drawn hoods. She’d withdrawn her offer to do the same for me when I’d made a quip about us looking like Ninja Turtles.
“The same reason I do anything, darling,” Bryn scoffed at Macha’s open hostility. “To stave off boredom. This group has ninety-nine problems, but being boring ain’t one.”
I couldn’t help but wonder about Bryn myself. Could I trust her like I did the others? She hadn’t been part of our party when we’d set out on our quest to conquer the Goblin Keep. In fact, she’d been on an opposing team at first. She’d been contracted by a group of douchebag Mega-Corp employed players to round out their team. Bryn had been the only survivor of that party after we’d spoiled their attempt to take the keep ahead of us. After we’d saved her from the keep’s boss monsters, she’d joined our party, but only because it was her only way to get out alive. Then she’d been stuck with us when the quest to recover the MacGuffin had activated. When we started debating our path out of the OZ that morning, she hadn’t said anything about ditching us. Then again, she could just be sticking around long enough to stab us all in the back.
Wary glances from Elias and Macha towards me reminded me that both had made their concerns about Bryn’s loyalty abundantly clear throughout our hike that day. Elias privately, and Macha publicly. Bolton hadn’t bothered, his feelings on Bryn had been clear from the beginning, and he mostly just ignored her. Bryn’s first party had kited an enraged ursapine, and dropped it on our heads in an attempt to wipe us out. It was the sort of thing assholes did in the OZ where they couldn’t PvP.
The incident had resulted in Bolton’s sister, Illiya, being killed, and I don’t mean going for respawn. Illiya had died in the real world. She had experienced a system error called Red Screening, the result of taking too much damage all at once, without a perception filter to moderate the simulated pain. Of course, no one else in my party knew that OWO had a backup of Illiya’s mind. Actually, there was a backup of every player that had ever died while connected to the game. They were all dormant at the moment, and the Doctor seemed to think I had the power to wake them all up. So now I had the weight of trying to find a way to resurrect her weighing on my shoulders.
I’d been infuriated by Illiya’s apparent death just a few days ago. When Lemorak had wanted to bail on the party and the quest to protect me, I’d insisted on pushing forward. I’d cooked up and executed the plan to get revenge on the Mega employed players that had targeted us, The Three Stooges, as I’d been calling them. Bryn hadn’t died with the rest of her party. Instead, she’d been captured by the goblins in the keep. At the time, she’d claimed to have had no knowledge of the Stooges’ plans or any ability to stop them. While I thought I believed her, I couldn’t blame the others for being skeptical.
“Everyone ready to exit?” I asked to stop my churning thoughts, as well as to cut off any further bickering.
A round of affirmative nods followed, including Archer. The wolf’s uncanny human-level intelligence and awareness still caught me off guard occasionally, even though it had been sparked by my own mutant brain.
“Let’s get moving then.” I tried to put on a confident, commanding tone like Lemorak always had. I figured if I was half successful, then I’d done alright. “Game faces on. Everyone, be ready for trouble.”
With Macha leading the way, the rest of us followed. We hiked along the narrow mountain path and rounded the next bend. Then, as Macha had promised, we saw the boundary of the OZ. The border appeared as a subtle haze-like shimmering curtain in the air, following the run of the land in each direction as far as the eye could see while reaching upwards to the heavens. A large granite plinth stood before the hazy barrier, carved with letters stylized to look like ancient glyphs.
As I read the words, Rowling Valley Boundary, a notification scrolled across my HUD.
WARNING: You are about to depart the Rowling Valley Orientation Zone. Player-versus-Player combat is permitted beyond this point.
Before reaching level-5, while exploring the valley, I would receive multiple warning notifications urging me to turn back anytime I’d gotten within a mile of the boundary. Lemorak had already made us turn around. As a result, I’d never been this close before. There was still a little less than six hours left on the countdown timer running on my HUD. After reaching Level 5, we’d been given 24 hours to depart the Orientation Zone. This was the point of no return. After we stepped beyond the OZ’s barrier, the game wouldn’t let us back into the relative safety of the valley.
“I don’t see anyone lurking around,” Elias said as he scanned the path and mountain slopes beyond the hazy curtain.
“You wouldn’t if their Stealth was high enough.” My eyes were narrowed, also scanning for threats.
As if in support of my point, Bryn dropped out of Stealth right beside Elias, causing the portly cleric to jump and curse. Bryn giggled and melted back into the shadows waving as she vanished. She wasn’t really invisible. I just found it very difficult to focus on her, my eyes sliding right over her unnoticed unless I put effort into looking right at her. In reality, there was no conceivable way Bryn should have had anywhere to hide herself out in the open like that. Whether due to specialized assassin talents or just her Stealth skill being that much higher than the rest of our Perception skills, or some combination, the game made it happen.
“Or magic invisibility,” Bolton added, rolling his eyes at Bryn’s antics. “There are any number of spells or magic items that would allow a group of PKers to be inches away from us but undetectable.”
“That’s not disconcerting at all,” Elias said.
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” I said, breaking the tense silence that had followed. “We came this way to fly under the radar. It was our best option this morning and still is.”
Archer whoofed his approval of my words, and the rest of the party visibly straightened their shoulders and set their faces in determination.
“Here goes nothing.” Macha shrugged and stepped through the barrier, drawing her katana as she did. She took a defensive stance, katana raised in a high guard and legs bent like coiled springs.
When she wasn’t immediately struck dead by some lurking attacker, she waved the rest of us through. Elias and Bolton stepped through side-by-side. Bolton cupped a smoldering ball of fire in his clawed hands. Elias held his mace up in a two-handed grip, and the weapon began to glow with the silver energy of one of his clerical spells. Then Bryn shimmered briefly into view. True to form, she front-flipped through the haze, her new wavy bladed dagger in one hand and rapier in the other. Once on the other side, she slipped back beneath the concealment of her Stealth skill.
I stepped up to follow, bow in hand, an arrow on the string. Inches away from stepping through, I hesitated for a beat, my mouth suddenly dry and my shoulders rigid with tension. In my head, I could hear Samwise Gamgee saying to Frodo, “If I take one more step, I’ll be the furthest away from home I’ve ever been.” Somehow, Rowling Valley had started to feel like home over the last month and a few days. When the hell had that happened?
Archer whined sympathetically beside me and nudged my hip with his nose.
“Yeah yeah,” I muttered. “Alright, let’s go.”
