Call of Carrethen: A LitRPG and GameLit novel (Wellspring Book 1) Page 5

  “D needs arrows pretty badly,” I replied. “And I have a bunch of trash loot to get rid of.”

  “Our general merchant will take all of that,” Cavey replied, pointing to a friendly looking NPC standing behind a counter a few yards away. “The Bowyer is just over there beside the Blacksmith.”

  “Speaking of which,” I replied, eyeing Xavier’s plate mail with admiration. “I could use some plate. Do the blacksmiths sell anything good or is it just low-level junk?”

  “The NPC blacksmiths sell junk,” Xavier replied. “But our Blacksmith makes great stuff.”

  “His name’s Gehman,” Cavey replied. “Go and see him. He’ll be excited to have someone of your level to craft for.”

  I opened my mouth to thank him, but before I could, something moved in the corner of my vision. I whipped around just in time to see a man leap through the air at me. He was completely nude, except for his loincloth, had no weapons, and just started raining down on me with his fists, swinging faster than anyone I’d ever seen.

  “Give Og fish!” he grunted, pummeling me with blows that barely registered on my health bar. I pulled my sword and looked to Cavey and Xavier, but they were just standing there watching. In fact, Xavier was smiling.

  “Give Og fish!” the man repeated as his fists flailed harmlessly against my chest.

  “Give him a fish!” Xavier roared, bursting into laughter. Quickly, I checked my inventory.

  “I don’t have a fish!” I shouted back.

  “Here.” Cavey smiled, stepping up beside me. He was holding out a fish, and I quickly grabbed it and practically threw it at the man attacking me.

  He snatched it out of the air, looked at it intently, then with a low guttural grunt, turned around and sprinted away back up the hill.

  “What the Hell was that!?” I said, shocked at what had just happened. Cavey was trying not to laugh, but Xavier was practically falling over.

  “That’s Og,” Cavey explained. “He’s our resident role player.”

  Xavier managed to speak between laughs. “Takes it very seriously.”

  10

  Upgrade Time

  “This is Gehman’s,” Cavey said as we approached a small hut with black soot and smoke spilling out of the chipped and worn wooden door. The smell was awful. How could anyone actually work in there?

  “We don’t have too many Pareals,” D told him. Pareals were the in-game currency. Low-level Horngrins barely dropped enough to restock on arrows and Health Kits, so being able to afford an entire new suit of plate mail, the most expensive armor in the game, was definitely out of the question.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cavey replied. “It’s on us.”

  I turned to D, who again, just shrugged. Before The Ripper had come, D would have looked at Cavey’s entire guild as a bunch of softies to be easily preyed upon, killed and then looted. He wasn’t one for “nice” people in MMOs. He was all about the PvP. But now, things had changed, and I could see he was doing his best to be amiable.

  “Are you sure?” I replied.

  “Maybe you’ll consider sticking around,” Cavey smiled. “We could use someone of your level to protect Stoneburg from the raids.”

  “Sorry, we’re not really the guild type,” D replied quickly.

  “Well… think about it.” Cavey smiled as he turned away. I shot D a scolding glance as I rapped on the door.

  “What?” he said indignantly.

  “Do you have to be so… harsh?” I replied. “They’re being nice to us! They know who I am, and they didn’t try and kill me!”

  “So that’s our standard now?” D snorted. “Anyone who doesn’t kill you is worth being friends with?”

  I started to reply as I tugged the door open but was almost swept off my feet as an enormous cloud of smoke billowed out of the hut and engulfed us. I staggered back, covering my mouth and nose with my arm.

  “Yuck!” D grimaced, turning his back on the hut.

  “That you, Cavey!?” a voice rang out from within, followed by the sound of hammer on steel.

  “What the Hell?” D coughed. “How is he not dead in there?”

  It was a legitimate question. I tried to peer inside but the whole building was basically a smoke stack. I could barely make out a figure, which I assumed was Gehman, holding a hammer high above his head.

  He brought it down again, and the sound of steel rang out. Waving the smoke aside with my hands, I stepped through the door and into the hut.

  “Just finishing up a sword!” Gehman called out as we pushed our way through the acrid cloud inside. As we grew closer, I was able to make him out.

  He was wearing a thick leather smith’s apron and had arms that looked like a bodybuilder’s. His hair was short and dark brown, with a total baby face.

  He raised his hammer for a final blow, then pulled the sword from the anvil. It glowed hot red amidst the cloudy air. He spun around, drew it back high in the air like he was going to stab someone, then brought it down into an enormous cauldron of water.

  With a loud hiss, a cloud of steam filled the room, pushing the smoke out the door and windows, temporarily clearing the workshop enough to see normally.

  “Jesus!” D shouted. “He’s a mad scientist!”

  “Sorry about that, fellas!” Gehman roared, spinning around and brandishing the freshly forged sword in front of him. He may have been a skilled smith, but he obviously wasn’t a swordsman. “Had to finish this baby up. Once I start a project, I just can’t stop until it’s finished.”

  With a flourish, he brandished the sword in the air, twisting it in front of him like some massive baton. It spun quickly over his head, but his hand slipped and sent the blade spinning high into the air.

  “Look out!” he gasped, leaping back as the blade spun through the air. Its blade glistened, catching a ray of sun from outside, before plummeting down and burying itself in the floor between us.

  “Hehe.” Gehman laughed nervously. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem!” I said quickly, before D could say something snotty.

  Upon inspection, I saw Gehman was level 12. He’d probably been spending all his experience points on smithing, which was why he had no idea what he was doing with the weapons he was making.

  D leaned forward and yanked the sword from the floor boards and wiped the dirt from the blade. With a nod, he handed it back to him.

  “Thanks.” Gehman smiled. “So, who are you guys?”

  “This is D,” I replied, not mentioning my own name. I could see Gehman hadn’t bothered inspecting either of us, and I wanted to avoid having another conversation about being “the one.”

  “Cavey said you could help me out with a suit of plate mail? We’ve been leveling out at the Bandit’s Tower and all I’ve got is this scraped-together junk.”

  “Bandit’s Tower?” Gehman asked eagerly. “That sounds awesome! I don’t get out of here much, ya know? Everyone needs weapons. Everyone needs armor.”

  “Speaking of that,” I replied. “How do you even breath in here with all that smoke?”

  “Eh, you get used to it.” He shrugged, rubbing his hands together. “Anyway, come on over to my workbench. Let me show you what I’ve got.”

  11

  Reality Check

  Countless items were laid out on Gehman’s workbench, from small daggers to massive metal clubs. The gamer in me started to drool over all the loot, even the things I knew I couldn’t use. There were studded leather suits, chainmail, plate mail, and a variety of shields.

  Gehman ran his fingers across a few studded leather pieces, musing to himself. “So, D, you wear studded leather, right? You’ll want something not too heavy, strong against slashing for when the swordsmen roll up on you… ah hah!”

  He lifted a dark brown breastplate set with many steel studs and a few longer bars across the chest. Compared to the junk D was wearing, it looked phenomenal.

  “Is your strength above 55?” Gehman asked.

  “It�
�s at 67,” D replied.

  “Perfect.” He smiled, handing it over. “Try it on.”

  D took the breastplate from him and inspected it. To my surprise, his eyes opened wide and he looked genuinely impressed.

  “Wow. 80 armor level. Nice.”

  Gehman nodded and flashed him a goofy thumbs-up. “What was the one you were using?”

  “30,” D replied.

  Gehman just smiled and turned to me. “And some plate for you, right?”

  “If you’ve got any,” I replied. Cavey and Gehman were doing us a huge favor and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not having anything to give them in exchange. But Gehman seemed more than pleased to help as he examined the various plate pieces on his bench.

  “Hmmm…” he mused, stroking his chin. “What’s your strength?”

  “It’s 140,” I replied. Gehman turned around and stared at me with a look I couldn’t quite read.

  “One hundred and forty strength?” he replied slowly. I sighed as I watched him inspect me. “Holy crap! You’re Jack, aren’t you?”

  “Yup, he is,” D replied for me. “The one The Ripper wants dead and all that jazz. Can we not make a big deal about it?”

  “Oh, come on,” Gehman protested. “I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

  “I’m not like a celebrity or anything,” I replied.

  “Pssh! In Carrethen you are!” Gehman said, stepping up and grabbing my hand and shaking it vigorously. “Let me just say—it’s an honor.”

  “Gah, can you be any more corny!?” D scoffed, leaning back against one of the building posts.

  “Hey, gimme a break, huh?” Gehman replied. “I don’t get out much, and now Jack’s standing in my workshop? That’s pretty cool, okay?”

  “It’s all right, Gehman,” I told him. “I’m just a guy though. Nothing special.”

  “Okay,” Gehman replied sarcastically, turning back to his bench. “But 140 strength is special around here. One of the guys got a rare drop off a Giant Reedrat on the other side of the lake. An Arithrian Steel bar. I made something out of it, but none of the guys around here have had enough strength to actually wear it!”

  “Arithrian?” I asked.

  “Rare metal. Really good stuff,” D replied, sounding impressed. He even came over from the post he was leaning against to get a closer look as Gehman bent down to a large chest sitting beneath the workbench.

  “Oh, it’s good all right,” Gehman replied. The gamer in me had a mini-freak-out when he pulled out one of the coolest looking breastplates I’d ever seen.

  It was shining silver, with fluted green inlays that twisted around the seams like vines. I guessed that was the Arithrian Steel. The green metal met in the center of the chest to form an image of a tree. Smiling, Gehman handed it to me.

  “Try that on.”

  I took it eagerly and inspected it.

  Superior Arithrian Reinforced Breastplate. Armor level 280.

  “Wow!” I blurted out. I could hardly believe my eyes. This was a total game changer. The Worn Steel Breastplate I’d been wearing had an armor level of 170. I was going to be an absolute beast.

  In Call of Carrethen, there was a spot at the bottom of every item’s stat page for an inscription that the owner of the item could change. On this breastplate, Gehman had written: For my friends only. May this steel keep you safe in the darkest of times—Gehman.

  “This—is—awesome!” I told him.

  “I’m not done yet.” He grinned, turning back to the chest. By the time he was finished handing things out, D and I were both standing in brand new suits of armor—his, studded leather, and mine, a shining suit of Arithrian reinforced plate mail.

  “I feel bad—ass,” I said firmly as I slid my new helm onto my head. It was one solid piece that fit snug with a cross cutout for the eyes and mouth. With all the combined pieces Gehman had given me, my total armor level had skyrocketed from 405 to 975.

  “Yeah, well you’re still a total newb,” D joked as he tightened the straps on his breastplate. His suit wasn’t as impressive as mine—nothing really beat the aesthetic qualities of plate mail, but it was a lot better looking than the stuff he’d been wearing.

  “The great thing about player made armor, is it can be upgraded,” Gehman explained. “D, if you find some Rubicire Ore, I can upgrade your suit for you. If you find any Peerless Arithrian, Jack, I can make your set even more badass.”

  “Where do you find that stuff?” I asked.

  “Dungeons mostly,” D replied. “There’s a great farming spot for Rubicire down South in the Marian Oasis, but that’s a long way from here.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for some Rubicire…” Gehman muttered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve only had one bar and the guy I made it for quit the guild and ran off. We haven’t seen him since.”

  “And you’re still going to give us this?” D asked. “We could do the exact same thing.”

  “Eh.” Gehman shrugged. “Can’t go around distrusting everyone you meet, right? How are you ever going to make friends that way?”

  For once, D didn’t have a reply to that. Gehman was right, and he knew it.

  “Let’s go sell and buy some arrows,” D said, changing the subject. He turned and headed out the door. Gehman and I followed.

  I must have gotten used to the smoke filled air of Gehman’s shop, because as I stepped outside into the fresh air, I felt like a load had been taken off my chest. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  “The bowyer’s over there.” Gehman pointed to a small hut next door. “Just an NPC, but he sells all kinds of arrows. Elementals if your bow skill’s high enough.”

  “A couple more levels,” D replied. His low level was killing him, and I could see he was itching to get back to leveling.

  “Let’s hit the merchant first and sell,” I told him. We headed back to the main building at the center of town and were greeted by an overly friendly NPC.

  “Greetings, travelers! Name’s Boddry,” he called out as we approached. “Interest you in some of my wares?”

  “Not today,” I replied. “Just here to sell.”

  “Happy to oblige,” he replied as D opened up a trade window and began selling off some of his junk. “Say, none of you have come upon a Sparkling Arlan Stone in your travels, have you?”

  “I haven’t,” I replied. Gehman groaned behind us.

  “None of us have. We’re pretty sure it’s the start to some kind of quest, but he won’t give us any more details than that.”

  “Probably some pointless low-level junk,” D replied, closing the trade window. “Always is.”

  “Probably right.”

  “If you find one,” Boddry continued. “Bring it to me and I’ll hook you up with something real nice!”

  I opened a trade window and sold off my junk loot. It was barely worth it, but it was nice to clear up some space in my inventory. I wasn’t one of those people that was so anal that they spent hours organizing things by type, rarity or cost, I just didn’t want a bunch of visual clutter every time I checked my pack.

  I walked with D over to the Bowyer, who had a window with a counter to make it easier to buy and sell without having to go inside. D stocked up on armor-piercing arrows while I reclined against the wall and gazed out across the town.

  “So, do you think you guys might stick around?” Gehman asked. “I’m sure Cavey told you about the raids.”

  “Sinful and Bleed.” I nodded. “He mentioned it. I still can’t believe people like that exist.”

  “Sinful are the worst,” he said bitterly. “For a while, they were warring with another guild, The Mercenaries, and their battles would spill over into Stoneburg. They both found some insane leveling spot and are crazy high levels, but I haven’t seen The Mercenaries in a while.”

  “How high level?” D asked. “Like, Jack’s level?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Gehman replied. “But last time I saw Bonecrusher and Chaucey,
Sinful’s top two members, they were 18 and 19 I think.”

  “Doesn’t seem possible,” I mused.

  “I hope you two decide to stick around,” Gehman said. “We could really use you—”

  But before he could finish, something awful happened.

  Gehman’s eyes went wide as a fire arrow streaked through the sky and embedded itself in his back. I watched as his HP plummeted to zero and he collapsed at my feet, dead.

  12

  Bonecrusher

  “No!” I screamed, raising my sword and scanning the horizon for the attackers. Before I could react, another fire arrow scorched through the air and struck my breastplate, chipping off a noticeable amount of health.

  “Where are they!?” I shouted.

  “There!” D roared, drawing back his bow. A fire arrow flew towards him, and he hurled himself out of the way, crashing into me and sending us both to the ground. I landed beside Gehman, his lifeless body lying on the ground beside me. The Ripper’s voice echoed in my mind…

  “Lost forever in the Electronic Void…”

  I leapt to my feet, my sword held high, and then I saw them. Two figures racing down the hill towards town. The one in front was a mage, in a snow-white robe with a purple plate mail helm, and behind him, in a suit of studded leather armor, was the archer who’d killed Gehman, a fire arrow nocked and ready to fire. Quickly, I inspected them both.

  Chaucey, level 22.

  Bonecrusher, level 23.

  “D!” I shouted.

  “I see it,” he replied grimly.

  “How is that—how is that possible?”

  The Ripper had made me level 20 with a wave of his hand. Everyone else we’d run into since then was significantly behind me. Cavey and Xavier were the highest we’d met, and they must have been leveling nonstop when they weren’t keeping watch in town. For these two to be higher level than me seemed impossible.

  A roar echoed through the air behind us and I turned to see Cavey, Xavier, and a group of his men racing towards the attackers.

  “Come on!” I screamed as I leapt into action.

  “Jack, wait!” D shouted after me, but I wasn’t listening. Gehman’s death had me in a frenzy. Adrenaline was coursing through my body as I raced towards the two attackers. They were higher level than me and could more than likely take me on two vs. one, but Cavey’s guild was with me. Together, we could take them.