Avarice: The Realm chapter three: South A Town

South A Town

Garnet takes me to Fort Lincoln’s fast travel tower. It stands in the center of a military staging area. Five tanks and six helicopters rest along two of the area’s side fending. A couple of marines walk in between the vehicles.

“Do you have your Traveler’s Pass?” says Garnet, walking up to the tower.

“Binder,” I say. My binder appears in front of me. I flip a couple of pages to where I had stowed the Traveler’s Pass card. Only a tiny amount of the space in my binder is being used by the cards that I was given. With the Traveler’s Pass in hand, I walk up to the tower.

“South Dungeon A,” says Garnet. She disappears in a flash of light.

“South Dungeon A,” I say, and the same light picks me up and carries me over the desert landscape. A gigantic tower appears on the horizon, as tall as a skyscraper and maybe a kilometer in diameter. It is decorated with an intense, chaotic geometric pattern.

We land at a fast travel tower not to far from the dungeon’s edge. The FT tower stands in the middle of a small settlement. A single main street is bordered by shops, stores, and what looks to be a saloon.

“Welcome to South A town,” says Garnet.

I look at the dozen or so people meandering about the street. “Are these all players?” I say.

Garnet points at various people in turn. “Those are some Italian soldiers, those are some cazzies in the Square Moon guild, and those are some mercs who work for, I think, Ismex International.” She shrugs. “There are probably a whole bunch more affiliations around here. This is a good place to get used to The Realm. Binder.” Her binder appears in front of her. “I’ll toss you the key to your room. The US Government rents out a number of rooms in every major staging area to make sure that we’re always able to train.” She picks a card from her binder and tosses it to me.

I catch it. It’s just a card that says Key to Room 209 at the Purple Stallion.

“Drop,” I say. The card turns into a key in a puff of smoke. I twirl it about and slip it into my pocket.

“We’ll start grinding tomorrow,” says Garnet. “I’ll leave you to your own devices.” She smiles, and then turns around and walks away.

I remember that I haven’t spent my skill points yet. I was interrupted. “Status,” I say. My status screen appears in front of me.

I look around at things that I can spend my points on, and finally decide to just put them into Dexterity. From what I remember playing tabletop games as a kid, this will allow me to be more reactive and flexible.

I am interested in the saloon. While I don’t drink, it’s a pretty cliché place where interesting things might happen. This is a video game world, after all.

I enter through two saloon doors straight out of a western. There is an ambient music being played through a jukebox in the corner.

No one watches me enter. Along the bar, a number of people are getting drunk.

So, they sell alcohol here in this game? Interesting.

“Binder,” I say. I pull out one of the cards I was given. Gold: 500. “Drop,” I say. I hear a ‘clink’ sound effect, but I see no gold. “Status,” I say. The status screen appears, and at the top right corner, the number ‘500g’ floats. So, this is like electronic money.

I walk up to the bar. I don’t drink, but I do want to taste the flavors of this world. Since asking for something non-alcoholic might not go down well, I’ll just ask for something to eat.

“What can I do ya for?” says the bartender. It is pretty apparent that he is not a human—I think the term was “NPC.”

“What’s your best lunch dish?” I ask.

“I would recommend the smoked cod,” says the man sitting next to me. He is decked out in chainmail and leather, and wears a cowboy hat. His bright red hair flows down to his shoulders.

“Smoked cod it is,” I say, to the NPC bartender.

The bartender grunts, turns around, and then turns towards me with a full dish. The whole sequence takes less than five seconds.

This is a game, after all.

I take a bite of the fish. Good enough.

“Not going to get a drink?” says the man sitting next to me.

“I don’t like alcohol,” I say.

The red-head chuckles. “You look a lot rougher than that,” he says. “Who’s your sponsor?” He is eyeing my equipment.

“The US government,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the government type.”

“I’m more of a freelance special operative associated with the US,” I say.

“Hrmph,” says the man. “Status.” He flicks his finger a few times. “The username’s HobNob. Call me Hob.”

“My name is An—Er, RoundTable,” I say.

“You want to friend me?” says Hob.

“I’m not certain what that means,” I say.

“It means you’ll be able to contact me using the telepathy system,” says Hob.

“Uh, sure,” I say. A little square that says accept friend request? appears in front of me.

I touch it. My status screen changes to show a list named friends online. The number next to it is 1. I should probably friend Garnet before things get too complicated.

Hob takes a shot of whiskey. “You want to play some Reball?” he says.

“Reball?” I say.

“Heh,” says Hob. “It’s sort of like Wizards’ Chess.”

“I think I understand that reference,” I say. I turn to the big table at the center of the room that is covered with terrain like a model train setup. “I assume that’s where the game takes place?”

I suddenly remember one of the cards Garnet gave me. “Binder,” I say. I flip through my binder until I find it.

Reball Starter Kit: Delevians.

I take the card out.

Hob whistles. “As expected of the US military. Always providing their people with the best stuff.”

“This is good stuff?” I say.

“The best starter kit money can buy,” says Hob. “To get better stuff, you have to clear certain quests.” He chuckles. “Binder.” He flips through his binder. It appears to be mostly full. Near the back, he slips a card out and flips it between his fingers. “Let’s see how you stand up to my current army.” He stands, and walks to the table.

I scarf down the rest of my fish.

“Two silver,” says the bartender.

Before I can think it, a gold coin appears in my hand. I toss it to the bartender. The bartender catches it, and flips me back eight silver coins. They go ‘cha-ching,’ and the number representing my gold count now includes eight silver. I turn to Hob.

Hob is setting up a number of miniature figures on one side of the terrain table.

A number of other rough-looking fellows approach the table as well.

“Ah, Hob’s got another newbie on the hook!” says one.

“He’s going to get plastered!” says another.

I hold the Reball Starter Kit: Delevians card in my hand.

“Drop,” I say.

A small wooden box full of miniatures appears on the table.

“I don’t know how to play this,” I say. “You’re going to have to teach me.”

“Binder,” says Hob. He pulls out a card. “Here’s the rule book.” He tosses it to me.

It seems that he does not expect me to actually read the book. “Drop,” I say. I flip through the pages and absorb the information using a Freax technique that I was taught by my master.

“Hah!” says Hob. He appears quite cocky. “Let’s see if you really can read that fast.”

I nod, setting up my army using the combined arms technique.

For the first few turns, I manage my resources and bolster my defenses. I’m not too sure what Hob is going to do. Hob attempts to take a hill that I’m defending, but I manage to push back his attack. He uses several special units to slip through my lines and play havoc with my supply chain, but after a few turns I root them out and stabilize. As I go on the offensive, Hob’s face goes from cocky and filled with bravado to slightly nervous, and then very nervous. The people standing around the table are making a lot of noise—it appears they’re not used to Hob being beaten.

Nothing is riding on this game, of course. Not that I know of. But it still feels quite intense. I close out the game with several trick moves and manage to destroy his base. When the game is over, Hob wipes his forehead.

“You’re quite the Reball player,” he says.

I extend my hand. “So are you.”

Hob shakes my hand. “If you ever want a rematch,” he says, “You know who to contact.”

The saloon doors open. Garnet walks in. “RT!” she says. “What are you doing?”

I shrug. “I got caught up in a game of Reball,” I say.

Garnet sighs. “Yeah,” she says, “Reball is pretty popular among cazzies.”

Hob swaggers over to Garnet. “Who’s this babe, RoundTable?”

Garnet makes a disgusted face. “No one who would give you a second look,” she says, to Hob.

I can’t help but chuckle.

Hob appears taken aback. “You really think you’re better than us?” he says. “Just because you work for the US military?”

Garnet scoffs. “That has nothing to do with the quality of my character.” She turns to me. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Hob looks at me. “Let’s play again sometime.” Then he makes a face at Garnet and turns away.

Garnet drags me out of the bar and into the street. “Hopefully you didn’t get too drunk,” she says.

“I don’t drink,” I say.

“Even better,” says Garnet. She turns down an alleyway and stops in front of a rather modest little building. “This is where we’ll be staying. You and I have separate rooms, of course.”

“I have a question,” I say.

“Ask,” says Garnet.

I open the door to the inn. “How am I supposed to get back to the real world?”

The inside of the inn contains a small dining area, a large fireplace—currently empty—and a counter behind which sit large barrels. An NPC host is standing behind the counter. I see no other players.

I still have my room key in one of the pockets of my armor.

“In order to leave the game,” says Garnet, “You have to buy a ticket on the orient express that pulls through major cities about twice a day.” She sits down at one of the tables in the dining area. “But your contract with the military doesn’t end for quite a while, right?”

I shake my head. “No. I was just curious.” I sit down at the table across from Garnet.

“Now, if I remember correctly,” says Garnet, “You don’t need to be outfitted with any weapons. You conjure your own.”

I shrug. “Mostly, yes,” I say. “Like I said, I’m a transition metal conjurer.”

“And that means that you can conjure bows, swords, and arrows?” asks Garnet.

“Definitely,” I say. “I can also do guns, but they usually don’t turn out very reliably. Sometimes they’ve exploded on me.”

“Understandable,” says Garnet. “The accuracy of conjuration doesn’t often match what can be done with tools.”

A server comes up to the table with a plate of food. Garnet takes it and begins to eat. After a moment she looks up. “If you want something, just go and order it.”

“I already ate,” I say.

Garnet shrugs and continues to eat. The atmosphere is silent, and the only activity is the NPC server starting up the fireplace. The rest of the day follows mostly uneventfully, and I retire to my room soon after.

Later that night, as I take a break from my daily exercise routine, I summon my binder and flip through the cards that Garnet has given me. Most of them appear to be spells that do things to hinder my opponents. I have to remember, though, that my opponents will use spells like theses against me. I must be ready to face that. I finish my training regimen and spend the rest of my waking hours practicing my conjuration.

I wake up to the sound of an alarm. Garnet bursts into my room, wearing her full suit of armor.

“Looks like South A Town has been randomly selected to be the site of a PVP event!”