CHAPTER SIX – Down the ratpit hole.
“If you eat in a Virtual World , would you need to take data dumps ?” – A stupid author, circa 2017
At first all he could hear was the sound of dripping water, slow and steady, the plop…. plop…. plop as each drop struck an unknown surface every two seconds. He seemed to be sitting down in a wooden chair, he believed this as he could feel the rough grain of the wood beneath his fingertips, but remained seated, unmoving , hoping his sight would return. A cold breeze suddenly swept across his body, making him shiver, while also allowing him to realise that he was totally naked.
Naked ? Why am I naked ? he thought to himself, I was wearing clothes before. I’m getting a real bad feeling about this. The unease that was gradually growing within him did not get any better after a rather foul and musty smell made itself apparent to his olfactory system. “My god, what is that reek,” he muttered, raising one hand to cover his nose and mouth in a vain attempt to block it out, but failing due to its pervasive nature. He kept his hand over his nose and decided to only breath through his mouth for the present, as this seemed to be the best way to reduce the potency of the smell, and hopefully reducing the nausea he was feeling.
Suddenly, without any warning, two torches on opposite sides of his position burst into light, sputtering slightly while illuminating the area he was currently in. So bright appeared even this dim light source, after the absolute darkness he had been in, that he was momentarily blinded. Blinking rapidly as his eyes teared up, partially from the aroma in the air, as well as from the light, he slowly managed to focus on his surroundings.
The room he was in, for now he could see it was a room, seemed to be about twenty foot square and constructed of large, roughly hewn, stones. A thick layer of moss had somehow managed to cover a large portion of it, and moisture dripped onto the floor from one rather large clump of it. This must be the source of the drips he had heard, when everything was dark, he realised. Against the left hand wall was a wooden crate, its surface covered with rot and fungus, while the right hand wall held a wooden door with a small barred window, somewhat reminiscent of a dungeon cell door. The door was closed and the breeze he felt, along with the nasty odour it brought, was obviously entering through the small open and barred window located in the top half of the door.
A couple of arm lengths in front of him stood a wooden table, unadorned, and looking quite new. He could see that it was new, purely by the fact it was the only thing in the room that wasn’t covered with a layer of crud or grime, and he included himself in that statement. From his seated position he couldn’t quite make out whether there was anything on the surface of the table.
Looking down at himself, finally, he saw that he was indeed sitting in a wooden chair, a poorly made, mouldy chair at that. This looks that old, I better be extremely careful getting up from it or it may fall apart beneath me. He carefully placed both hands on the sides of the chair seat and slowly pushed himself up, easing his way onto his feet. He took a deep breath, then regretted it as he broke down into a coughing fit, his lungs showing their displeasure at the tainted air he had drawn into them. I know I’ll get used to it eventually, but what the hell is that smell, it’s so bad it’s even burning my eyes and throat. Don’t know why, but for some reason it reminds me of my old cat.
Now he was on his feet he could see that there was something on the table top, he was also aware of the ground beneath his feet as well as the slimy ooze that was being squished up between his toes, he hoped it was only mould. Evaluating his options within the room, he chose to see what the table held first, and took a step in that direction. As his weight came down upon his leading foot, it slipped smoothly across the beslimed stones, twisting his hips and knees as he tumbled down into a heap on the cold, dirty stone floor. He heard the distinct popping sound when his left shoulder dislocated as it struck the ground. Pain radiated out from the joint and he grasped instinctively at it with his good hand.
“Ahhh…fuck.” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, cradling the damaged limb and rocking back and forth slightly in agony. He had dislocated his shoulder before, and his memory of the pain at that time was a lot worse than on this occasion, but it still hurt…. a lot.
He knew he couldn’t do anything about it at this time, so struggled back to his feet, being extremely careful to not repeat his accidental gymnastics, one painful pirouette was enough to teach him that the pain threshold in the game, for Cloned Intelligences anyway, was quite low. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, he made his way across to the table.
The items on the tabletop were…. surprising to say the least. A scroll with a wax seal lay next to an envelope, which had Read Me First printed on the outside, and a Flexi-Data strip lay above both of these. Talk about being out of theme, a data strip of all things
Reaching down, he took the envelope and flipped it over, unsealing the flap with one fingernail. Inside was a folded note, which he withdrew and opened and then started to read.
The data strip on the table contains your new character details and profile. Hold it to your forehead for three seconds and it will be integrated into you.
The scroll on the table is my personal quest for you, Don’t open it immediately, as this quest can not be accepted or rejected by you, it will automatically be included in your profile as accepted once the scroll is unrolled. Store the scroll in your inventory until you have escaped Ratpit, then open it.
You will see a wooden chest against the wall. Open it. Anything within that chest is yours. Don’t leave anything behind for once you have departed Ratpit you will be unable to return.
Remember, I am your patron god and I shall be watching you. The path you follow from this point is of your own choice, so may luck befriend you.
Farewell
Hanortan
He flipped the card back onto the table after he had finished reading it and studied the data card leaving it where it lay. Bugger the data card, he thought, I’m opening the chest first. Who knows how that thing will change my details. I don’t even know what it could change me into. He wasn’t looking forward to opening the chest, but it was the lesser of two evils in his eyes. The chest could only kill him, at worst, but the strip could change his whole personality. This Hanortan person is one nasty and evil bugger and I don’t trust him one whit.
The chest proved to be quite harmless, once he had reached it. He had expected at least some trick or trap to be attached to it, but it opened up without any problems at all, other than having squeaky hinges. He gave the interior a quick scrutiny, extremely pleased to see a number of clothing items, neatly folded, within it. At least I know that I won’t be running around bare assed. He quickly withdrew them, one at a time, and proceeded to dress himself. System messages started to flash across his vision with each item of apparel he put on.
You have just equipped Cotton Underwear !
Cotton Underwear : Fashion Accessory.
Classification : Clothing / Underwear
Requirements : None
Durability : 10 / 10
+0.5 point Cold Weather Protection
+0.5 point Defence
You have just equipped Thin Socks !
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Thin Socks : Fashion Accessory.
Classification : Clothing / Socks
Requirements : None
Durability : 5 /5
+0.5 point Cold Weather Protection
+0.5 Point Defence
You have just equipped Cotton Shirt !
Cotton Shirt : Fashion Accessory.
Classification : Clothing / Torso
Requirements : None
Durability : 15 / 15
+0.5 point Cold Weather Protection
+1 point Defence
You have just equipped Cotton Pants !
Cotton Pants : Fashion Accessory.
Classification : Clothing / Legs
Requirements : None
Durability : 15 / 15
+0.5 point Cold Weather Protection
+1 point Defence
After all these items were equipped, he did notice he felt a little warmer, not much at all, but just enough to register on his consciousness. I suppose a +2 Fahrenheit bonus isn’t much, but once I get more clothing and armour equipped, it will be a fair bit higher. I better keep an eye on that because I know that when it’s hot this heat bonus could become unbearable and be a problem. Let’s pull up my profile and see what the clothes have done for me. He concentrated but a system message flashed up, in red this time.
< Havenhost Error Code : 31dd x 567ff >
Profile page unavailable or unexecuted
.
He first felt confused at this message, before annoyance overtook it. Pulling his head back in an attempt to distance the words from his view, it was a vain attempt, as the words remained at a set distance in his eyesight. “What the shit is …….” his words trailed off, the outburst and his annoyance petering out into nothing as he suddenly remembered the Data Card on the table behind him. That was his profile, or so Hanortan claimed it to be, and he had not yet integrated the card into his character. “Damn it.” He growled, knowing he was going to have to wait.
Resigned to the fact his profile wouldn’t be available until he had departed this place, he looked back into the chest to see what other items had been left inside. Let’s see, he thought, a pair of leather boots, two red vials, one wooden dagger, one golden crystal and a large bag. He took the boots out and attempted to put them on, only to be faced with another red system message
You are attempting to equip Leather Boots. You fail to equip Leather Boots. You do not meet the requirements to equip Leather Boots.
Leather Boots have been placed into your Inventory
Crap, he thought to himself, then tried to open his inventory to get the boots so he could inspect them. I should have checked them out before I tried to wear them. He was startled, but pleased, when his inventory page opened up in his sight. Mustn’t be linked to my profile, at least one things gone right for me since I got in that damn pod. He selected the Boots and they appeared in his hand. As he stood there a thought just occurred to him, so he replaced the boots in his inventory, dismissed the page and turned back to the chest. Reaching his good hand into it, her grabbed one of the red vials and examined it.
Healing Vial, Small : Health Potion
Classification : Magic
Requirements : None
Durability : 1/1
+5 Heath Points when taken.
Popping off the cork with his thumb, he raised it to his lips and quaffed the contents. Tastes like rusty water, he thought to himself, as he licked the last drops of the potion off the base of the cork. I hope this works, he wondered as the now empty vial and cork slowly evaporated away, leaving no sign behind that it had ever existed.
A warmth slowly made its way down his throat, settling into a comfortable feeling in his stomach. His dislocated arm gave a painful twitch, then in one agonizing spasm, clicked itself back into place in the shoulder socket.
You have drank a Small healing Potion. You have regained 5 points of heath. You have regained use of your left arm.
The pain of healing teaches one to be more careful in future
“Ahhhh……fuck!” escaped through his clenched teeth, the pain of the healing felt greater than the pain caused by the dislocation. If this is what healings are going to be like I can see myself running away from a lot of fights. He had grasped at the damaged joint when the healing pain had struck, but beneath his fingers the agony rapidly eased away until it was just a memory.
“There must be some way to decrease this pain, or avoid it somehow,” he muttered quietly to himself, “no-one is going to put up with this for too long, it’s too realistic, too strong.” He rotated the healed shoulder carefully, then with more vigor as nothing untoward occurred. It was like he had never injured himself.
Plucking the large bag from the chest, with the expectation that it could contain coins, he was surprised at the lightness of it. Undoing the drawstring, he opened it an peered inside, to find it was filled with items of food, such as bread rolls, cheese and dried meat. Not foreseeing any immediate urgency to know anything about these items, he just closed the bag and stored it in his inventory. Next, he picked up the dagger and hefted it in one hand while looking at its description..
Dagger, Wooden : Weaponry
Classification : Daggers
Type : Common
Requirements : None
Durability : 10/10
Damage: 1 – 4
If the name Ratpit means what I think it does, this little thing is going to become very important. He then realised that he would have to carry the dagger, as he had no belt or dagger sheath to place it into, so he just put it with the other things into his inventory and hoped he would have time to retrieve it when it was needed. He knew what the remaining red vial was, so that went straight into the inventory. All that was left was the golden crystal. It was about the size of a pea and glowed slightly, and as it sat , cupped in one hand, it emanated a slight warmth. Its properties, when studied, were quite interesting, as well.
Golden Skill Orb of Daggers
Classification : Skills
Type : Rare
Requirements : Possession of a Profile.
Durability : Unbreakable
This Skill Orb has been magically imbued with the knowledge of Daggers and, when swallowed, will add the Dagger Skill to the person ingesting it. Only works if Dagger skill unknown
You do not meet the requirements to use this item.
“Damn” he muttered, “Seems like everything depends on this bloody profile that’s being forced on me.” He raised his head up and looked up at the roof, then spoke loudly. “I don’t care what you are trying to make me do, but I’m not going to do it until it suits me. That profile can bloody well wait.” Returning his sight back down, he sighed, and dropped the crystal into his inventory.
Time to take stock of my situation. He looked himself over, checking each item that he had equipped, items obviously not profile required. They gave him a slight defensive benefit, he saw from their details, but not enough to make a lot of difference if he was facing a strong opponent. Three points defensive bonus, great. At least that’s three points less damage if I am attacked. The problem is, with no profile, I have no stats, and also no apparent health. Will I die if I get any damage at all from an attack ? I didn’t die when I dislocated my arm, but….. the system didn’t tell me I had received any damage then ? I’m confused. He blew out his breath and scrubbed his face with one hand, perturbed by the whole thing. Lets just give it a go and see if I can get out of this place, and worry about any issues later, he decided to himself.
He pulled the wooden dagger out of his profile and advanced to the door out of the room. Looking out the barred window of the door all he could see was a rough stone corridor leading directly away from the door, how long the corridor was he couldn’t see, for there wasn’t any light sources along its length to show him. Weird, he thought, and turned around to look at the room again. For some reason he had not taken any notice why, or how, the room was illuminated. Turning in a circle, he looked up and down as he rotated. It was only after the door had passed him twice that he realised that there was no source of illumination on this room, it just…was.
He shrugged, knowing that there was nothing else he could do, either within the room, or in regard to the mysterious light, and decided it was time he manned up and ventured forth. He quickly reached out and yanked the door open before he found something else to delay his departure.
The breeze flowing towards the room made the door swing open faster than expected, causing it to slam firmly against the wall and sending echoes up the corridor in front of him . Wincing at this disturbance to the silence, hoping it didn’t call any creatures or monsters to his location, he stepped forth into his first dungeon experience in Haven.
It didn’t last long.