Another day another hangover, thought Jake, feeling the familiar night-after fog in his head. The ‘Drunken Bums’ screen flashed up, but Jake dismissed it without thinking; it seems he was doomed to remain in this party of drunks for the near future. This time he had awoken to find himself in the common room of the inn, lying on a thin mattress near the fire. His clothes were bundled up under his head and his knapsack lay next to him. The now familiar sound of Grim’s ripsaw snoring echoed around the room, and, more faintly, he could hear Fred-the-dog growling in his sleep.

He got up with a groan and looked at the sleeping bodies around him; Grim, flat on his back, blankets thrown aside and arms akimbo, Detlev, swaddled tightly in bedclothes and curled around his dog. He checked for other sleepers but saw no sign of Petra. Probably wrangled another private room, he thought. Sneaky bastard.

With a sigh, he pulled on his clothes and staggered towards the front room of the coaching inn. Breakfast was supplied as well as a place to sleep, but this was mainly left-over stew from the day before, as well as some watery porridge and, randomly, two hard boiled eggs in a bowl. He ate both, figuring Detlev and Grim would only fight about them, then spooned down as much stew as possible. They (or rather Petra) had paid for it, and perhaps it would be all he’d get to eat that day. He picked up the heel of a stale loaf to finish his breakfast.

Today was the day he was going to get his life sorted out, he thought. Be the hero he knew he could be, not the loser he was. Change. Get stronger. Faster. Be prepared for adventure. Not really something a scribe was particularly good at, he thought. Almost at once a notification flashed up, and he felt the world slow as it slipped into screen time.

You have completed your basic career and may change your profession. You have ten minutes to choose an option, or one will be chosen for you. Possible career pathways: -

Forger – advanced career after scribe. Need a ticket for the stage? Not a problem, just give me five minutes and a strong light source! Possible increases in dexterity and intelligence. Skill Master Forger obtained.

Coachman– the skill drive like a mutha means you are eminently suited to the job of a driver. A very bad one. Possible increases in strength, dexterity and constitution. Skill gunpowder weapons – blunderbuss learnt.

Investigator – you have learnt the skill investigate and may use this to become an investigator. Possible increases in intelligence and dexterity. Skill Perception gained.

Adventurer – you have taken part in an adventure, and may become an Adventurer, an individual skilled in fighting and getting into (and out of!) various types of trouble. Possible increases in strength, constitution, dexterity and charisma. Skill Use Common Weapons gained.

Real world Jake was totally in charge here as he considered his options. As a gamer, developing his character was second nature to him, and he quickly put his extensive experience to use. Forger was a complete bust, mainly because it was so limited. Also, it sounded boring. Coachman, too, sounded a bit dull, though learning to use a gun sounded attractive, given his poor combat skills. Getting a blunderbuss might be difficult, mind. Investigator sounded interesting, but no increases in strength were offered, which was his main weakness, and no increase in constitution to cushion his lack of strength. Some kind of magical career would be the best choice, being as none of his companions seemed to have magic of any kind, but there was no option for that offered. He wondered how one could get that choice; get involved in a magical quest of some sort? That seemed to be the way the game was set up.

On consideration, adventurer sounded good. He could increase a load of stats across the board, as well as learning how to use common weapons. He was just about to choose that career when it occurred to him that all three of his companions were adventurers of some kind and picking that option would add nothing to the group. He looked at investigator again, remembering the quest they’d been given, - Investigate the robbing of the stagecoach (part I). No-one really seemed to have a clue what was going on, so perhaps the investigator career with its perception skill might be useful after all. With a last longing glance at the adventurer career and its combat skills, he picked Investigator.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

…..

“Who’re you?” asked a deep voice, interrupting his concentration.

Jake looked around. A man stood at the table, stocky, clad in heavy mail, with a white cloak flung over one shoulder. There was a symbol of some sort embroidered on the cloak, and the same symbol, cast in metal, was hung from a heavy chain around his neck. A cleric of some kind, Jake suspected, and rich to boot. Not someone to upset.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” he said, and held out a hand.

“I said, ‘who the fuck are you?’” asked the cleric again, in a louder voice and ignoring Jake’s hand.

I don’t know about me, but you’re bit of a dick, thought Jake. The man looked tough and well-armed, with a thin scar down one cheek, so Jake changed his assessment to ‘blunt’. Best not to be rude to someone like that, even in the privacy of his own mind. As if to contradict his thoughts, he heard bloody poseur, whispered in the back of his head.

The man took a step forward, chin jutting, and put a hand on the mace in his belt.

“Jake,” said Jake, quickly. “Jake Gilberson. Scribe.” He was going to add ‘adventurer’ but thought better of it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The man moved into Jakes personal space, and he retreated slowly, edging backwards across the room. The man followed, herding Jake like a sheep.

“Breakfast?” said Jake, in a querying voice as he stumbled backwards. He waved the heel of stale bread in his hand and smiled hopefully. This was not going well, he thought. There was a bump as his back hit the wall, and he could retreat no further. Really not going well.

The man advanced until his face was so close Jake could have kissed him. “Listen you little shit, my guild paid good money to trial this beta, and I’m not having some cock-sucking little hacker ruin it. How did you get access? Some sneaky backdoor? Paid someone off in the company? And where’s your player tag, I should be able to see it now I’m examining you.”

“Umm, what?” said Jake. The words echoed in his head, on the edge of his understanding. “I don’t understand, who are you?”

The cleric waved a hand and a line of glowing writing appeared above his head. Kurt Alastra, it read. Paladin Lord. The New Destroyers. “Look at my tag. Yes, the New Destroyers. Those New Destroyers. The New Destroyers who will will fuck you up bad if you get in our way!”

How the hell did he get a name to appear above his head? thought Jake the scribe, bemused. Magic? Simultaneously, he thought, oh fuck, the New Destroyers, the top guild in Darkworld. The top corporation in Darkworld, really. There had been stories of people hounded out of the game by these people, their avatars killed, robbed and then then repeatedly spawn killed till they quit the game in disgust. There had even been hints that things happened to people in the Real World if you upset them.

Game Jake had no idea what was going on, but the little voice inside his head was trying to tell him that this was trouble. Big trouble. He attempted to move away, but the cleric shoved him against the wall, hand in his collar. “I will ...”

That was as far as he got before there was a wooden clonking sound and the man’s eyes turned up. He slumped to the floor. Behind him stood Grim, his axe reversed from hitting the man with its handle. Petra stood next to him, with a quizzical look on her face. When Jake shrugged his shoulders in bemusement, she quickly knelt and riffled through the man’s clothes. Her face lit up as she found an inside pocket and after a moment, she shoved a heavy purse into her own jacket. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, standing and brushing down her trousers. Jake could tell she was considering stealing the man’s holy symbol and he put a hand on her wrist to stop her.

“Never met him before in my life. He said he was a ‘New Destroyer’, whatever that is. A cult of some kind, I’m guessing.”

The glowing writing was still above the man’s head, and Detlev bent over and waved a hand through the text with no effect. “Weird,” he said. “Magic?”

“I think so,” said Jake. He stood for a moment, confused by the two different strands of thought going through his head. “I think we’d better call the watch.” Detlev poked the unconscious man with his foot. No movement. He nodded in agreement with Jake, whilst Grim just shrugged. Petra looked like she would disagree, probably because she had the man’s purse in her pocket. She opened her mouth to argue when there was a popping sound and they turned as one to see the man’s body disappear.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” Said Petra. Grim shrugged again, while Detlev poked again at the space the man’s body had occupied with his foot. Nothing. Fred started barking.

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