Rescuing Roxy: A GameLit Harem Fantasy Adventure for Men Read online

  He took a minute to skim the Stealth skill information but that seemed as self-explanatory as he’d imagined. Again, it worked against Perception, but didn’t mean a creature with true night-vision couldn’t see you as plain as day, or that you could hide behind a door and expect not to be found if someone opened it, in case there was someone hiding behind it, just because you had amazing stealth. Which was good. Some games he’d played had totally broken stealth systems and it could as easily make the game feel too easy, as far too hard to be enjoyable.

  The head was a nice touch, he decided as he glanced at it one more time before he walked off. He’d almost whirled it like a discus and thrown it from the cave mouth but stopped himself when he saw how much gore was dripping for it. Now that he’d read the concealment skill, he realised if he’d wrapped it up in one of their tattered cloaks and covered the equally gory neck, he’d have left less of a trail to the corpses as well, which was an important consideration for the future. Perhaps strangulation would be better for stealth skills?

  This was no bloodless game thankfully. Not that he was into the horror, but the cartoon violence wasn’t that immersive he found. Better to have some blood splatter and horrible wounds even if bodies did get cleaned up automatically after a few minutes. He wondered how New Albion handled that. Would those bodies remain until animals ate them? Would they respawn?

  Details like that hadn’t been his priority when he’d picked which game to play. He’d had a lot more on his mind and his criteria for the style of game hadn’t included anything like that. He left their weapons because he hadn’t got a backpack of any kind yet, so his inventory was limited but he did find a couple of coins in their pockets which he did keep.

  Their cloaks didn’t seem worth taking, as they had no armour value anyway. Their clothes were covered in blood, else he might have taken a shirt but hopefully he’d find one without blood all over it inside.

  One of them was wearing a potion belt though which he did put on. It had slots for three potion bottles, but they were empty. Once he donned it, a paper doll image of his character showed up and he could see his extremely limited armour. A harness on his chest, his loincloth, cloth boots, and now a belt. He was as close to naked as he could get and had almost no armour value on his character sheet.

  Vandal didn’t head into the cave yet, he decided to go back up top and see what was up there. A nagging part of his brain wanted to know why the level designers who built the area would bother putting that ruin up there, unless there was a bit more to it. It didn’t seem like he needed to hurry just yet, so he climbed back up and gave the area a more thorough inspection.

  Besides, he wanted any advantage he could get. If he’d taken these guys face to face, he’d have had to get three or four blows in to kill each one. Two might be tricky, three might be fatal. Sooner or later, he expected to die during a fight, but while Vandal had zero interest in hardcore gaming modes where you had to start the game again if you died. Instead, he liked to set himself a simple personal challenge and just see how many levels he’d get through before dying the first time.

  Largely it seemed to depend on whether he was drinking beer while playing, but in New Albion he’d have to actually take booze with him on an adventure and get drunk in game to do that. That gave him a bit of a shiver.

  What if hangovers were as realistic as the gore in this game? That could be a serious bummer.

  Chapter One

  Much of the top of the plateau was quite dull. It looked like most of the flatter areas had been walled in near the cliff edge but so long ago that most of those walls were nothing more than rocks sticking out of some areas there were ruined walls near the edge, particularly where it would have been easy to fall off.

  Other than the area he’d found earlier though, he didn’t find anything that stood out. The rectangular area attached to the circle one was paved on the inside. Vandal could see it in places, but the plants obscured most of the stone. It was rough paving, nothing like marble, which suggested a practical rather than a noble dwelling place. The tower also had the same flagstones, broad and flat, but when he wandered around, he didn’t find anything like a magic sword or chest of gold left behind when whatever happened here had happened.

  That was, he didn’t find anything until the floor under him creaked ominously. It certainly didn’t sound like stone, and he sidestepped off it quickly, because he was heavy, and it sounded a lot like wood. It took a couple of minutes to wrench the thick undergrowth out of the way and he had to cut a fair bit of it but eventually he uncovered a trapdoor with a big iron ring in it.

  The ring wasn’t rusty at all, which seemed odd given how exposed it was to the elements, but the trapdoor was a tight fit and seemingly quite heavy and it didn’t want to budge. It took him several minutes to work it loose because the space between the door and the frame was packed tightly with decades of dirt. He could feel the grit scraping as it began to lift, his muscles bulged and sweat dripped down his forehead but eventually he overcame the resistance.

  Vandal almost fell on his ass when it came up because the hinges were just as well preserved as the ring. The door was still several inches thick and as heavy as he’d expected. It was easy enough to open it all the way, as soil and leaves tumbled into the hole. Light poured in and revealed that the trapdoor guarded a spiral staircase carved right out of the rock of the outcrop itself. It wasn’t highly finished, or made for show, but it was clearly expert work. He couldn’t imagine how long it would take to do that with a hammer and chisel.

  His laughter came upon him unexpectedly as the ludicrous nature of his train of thought struck him. It wasn’t as if a stonemason had actually carved it. A game developer or a team of them had created all this, and clearly put substantial effort into it but it hadn’t been quite so physical. It was so damned real he was forgetting it was a game, or at least, becoming completely immersed in it. The mud and grass he’d loosened to get the trapdoor opened even smelled real. The moment he moved to step down, a notification appeared.

  Secret Discovered: You have found one of the mysteries of New Albion, a Secret Dungeon. It might contain nothing, dangerous monsters, or wondrous treasures. Will you explore it or leave it be? The choice is yours. 200 XP

  He triggered the button on the popup to read the full details. “You discovered one of the secrets of New Albion. An observant adventurer can uncover all manner of forgotten tombs, crumbling ruins, hidden grottoes and abandoned settlements. The treasures hidden within vary from trinkets and curiosities to legendary artefacts of untold power, to esoteric lore that may set you on the path of a unique quest. Keep your eyes open and let your curiosity guide you, and you may be rewarded for your efforts.”

  Vandal descended the stairs wondering how far he could possibly get before it would be too dark to see, but as soon as his head went below the level of the trapdoor, a soft glow sprang into being around him. Small orange gems were set into the stone at regular intervals and provided enough light to see by. He’d gone down quite a lot of steps before he came to the first exit.

  The stairs kept going down past the landing he’d found but there was an open passageway here. He followed it first, wondering if he’d gone far enough to be below the ground level where the cave mouth was, or if he was still in the rock that towered above it.

  The tunnel had clearly been cut from the rock by human hands but soon it led him into a cave system with much more natural walls. He followed the new tunnel and soon found himself in a giant cave, at least the size of a small house. It took him a moment to realise the word for it, dredging up his geography lessons and a few visits to museums.

  Geode. He was in the heart of a massive geode, so large he could stand up in it and have no hope of touching the ceiling. It wasn’t spherical but more like an egg lying on its side and he’d entered through the thinner end. The walls were squat columns of sparkling crystal, which shone like sapphires as the magical lights around the entrance to the geode ignited on his ar
rival.

  Perhaps the geode really was sapphire, or some other precious gemstone. That was far from the most amazing thing though. At the larger end of the egg was a large pool of water and it was being fed by a constant trickle from the iridescent blue gems that lined the geode. There wasn’t a clear source, so it was as if the water was entirely magical, and Vandal supposed it probably was.

  To one side was an exit, and he followed it. It didn’t lead far but half of it was filled with a small stream of water. Vandal could hear voices up ahead, so he slowed to a glacial pace, anxious to avoid discovery and tip his hand.

  The stream turned out to trickle out through some bars into a much larger cavern and over a waterfall, to splash into a plunge pool below. The small tunnel he was in now had been cut by hand, so it seemed that the ancient purpose had been to provide water to the deeper caverns. Had the geode been naturally magical, or had it been enchanted when discovered?

  It was easy to forget this was just some employee’s level design so there might not be a backstory. It was so convincing, the sound of the water, the smell of the air in the staircase and the sparkle of the geode, it was easy to forget this was just one of the most advanced games in the world.

  Vandal could hear the voices chanting and he got right up to the grate to look out below. The cavern had been turned into a temple, and clearly not recently. It was perhaps a hundred feet wide and twice that in length and as tall as three storeys. The waterfall was in one of the back corners.

  At the far end a giant tapestry had been hung behind the altar and he couldn’t see what was back there at all from this angle. It bore images that he couldn’t quite make out but there were a lot of pink flesh tones, and what appeared to be tentacles, so he wasn’t entirely unhappy at that.

  A cultist, presumably their high priest, was leading his congregation in a service. There were at least two dozen of them kneeling on cushions, chanting and waving their hands in the air in time with the priest's voice. Like the two guards by the cave mouth, they all wore black robes tied with golden ropes, and it was all very dramatic looking. Braziers burned incense that tainted the air with a sickly-sweet smell even up here.

  Even if he could get through the bars, and they seemed to be made of the same rust proof iron that the trapdoor ring used, he doubted he could kill them all at his level. He checked a few of them with targeting, and they were at least level one like him, but the priest was level three. Perhaps the quest was supposed to be done by a complete party or he should have picked up other quests on the way here to level up?

  Deciding once again on the better part of valour, he backed off quietly and then made his way back to the spiral staircase, following it down to see if that got him anywhere more useful. This time it took a lot longer to descend before he found anything, and it was the end of the staircase and a sturdy looking door.

  There was no window or grating in the door so he listened at it but couldn’t hear anything. It opened smoothly enough and there was no-one on the other side to worry about which was a relief.

  The room he’d discovered was about twenty feet on either side and lined with weapon racks and benches. He’d found an armoury but didn’t see a single weapon in here, which was more than a little disappointing. It could have held enough gear for a small army.

  Vandal checked the door on the other side, but again, didn’t hear anything from it, so he decided to search the room completely, in case there were further secrets to be discovered. He was starting to lose heart when he decided that it was ridiculous to put this hidden room in map only to fail to leave anything in here for the adventurer who found it.

  As a veteran gamer, he really didn’t believe there was nothing in here but a bunch of old wooden racks for weapons and armour, and some dust. New Albion would have terrible reviews if they did things like that, surely?

  Getting down on all fours, he peered under all the benches and that was when he saw it, a small glint under one of the racks that didn’t seem like stone. Vandal had to lie down and reach his arm out all the way to be able to grab the object, pulling it a little with his fingertips until it was possible to grip it properly.

  He grinned when he finally stood up, finding he was holding a sword, in a leather scabbard.

  Secret Discovered: You have found one of the mysteries of New Albion, a Hidden Treasure. Your patience and cunning have been rewarded. 50 XP

  Vandal drew the sword and was pleased to find that while it was only short, no longer than his Rusty Gladius, it was in far better condition. The hilt was immaculate, in fact, the scabbard was too, although covered in dust of course. He wiped them clean on his loincloth and then drew the sword.

  The blade was pristine, and he ran this thumb across the edge. “Still sharp,” he chuckled, as blood welled up from the cut. “Idiot. They better not have tetanus in this game.” Vandal sighed. That would be a bit of realism too far, he hoped. There was a single rune on the blade near the hilt, but he couldn’t read it.

  He wondered how to properly look at his gear as all the game currently showed was that it was a Sword and then question mark to indicate it wasn’t properly identified. Vandal tried focusing on it, which rewarded him with a popup screen, inviting him to identify it. A few more bits of information popped up.

  Elven Shortsword: Level 1

  Damage 2-5

  1 handed

  Fast

  Magic: Rare Unidentified

  Description: A good quality Elven shortsword, with unidentified magical properties.

  Vandal noted a help item linked to the term Unidentified so he opened the article which explained that only magic-users could Identify magical items and that it was dependent on their skill, class and level to do so properly. He could also obtain a Scroll of Identify but it would need to be of sufficient level to identify the item.

  Apparently, some simple magical bonuses would apply when the item was used in combat, for instance, extra damage. But some items had properties that had to be activated and those had to be identified properly for the wielder to use them. Which made sense. You wouldn’t want to hit someone with a sword and have it cast chain lightning unexpectedly.

  It was definitely better than his gladius even before it was identified so he undid his belt and threaded it through the scabbard. It didn’t fit well but he was at least able to sheath the gladius in the scabbard, so he held the better weapon and kept it as backup. Waste not, want not was his gaming policy. Carry as much loot out as possible without being encumbered.

  Finally, it was time to get out of here.

  Chapter Two

  It didn’t take much in the way of investigative powers to realise that the door was opened with a lever by the side, which seemed odd, until he pulled the lever and the mechanism operated. The door swung back smoothly and without any creaking or noise at all, despite there being no sign in the dust that anyone had used it in ages.

  There was no-one in the room and no sound of chanting or footsteps, so he turned around to look at the door, wondering why the sword hadn’t been found by the cultists yet. The answer was simple, the other side was designed to blend in with the wall of the next room. So, that was what a secret door looked like. He had to give the builder credit; you really wouldn’t spot it if you weren’t searching for it.

  To the left of the door was a depression in the stone and it corresponded with the lever. When Vandal let the door swing closed a bit, the depression filled in, and he found that pushing on that stone would either stop the door closing or open it. The mechanism was impressive to have lasted without being maintained or used long enough that so much dust had built up in the armoury.

  On this side there was no dust however, so he let the door close and got on with his questing.

  This room was lit by a much larger device in one corner near the ceiling. It looked like a lantern complete with glass windows, but the light inside moved in a way that didn’t seem natural. Vandal moved toward it and blinked in surprise when the figure of a tiny
humanoid stopped by one of the windows for a moment.

  It didn’t acknowledge he existed, but then it was some kind of living flame and quickly resumed flitting about its cage. He really hoped it wasn’t at all sapient. Some kind of elemental he assumed but unfortunately the lantern was firmly fixed to the wall, so he wasn’t going to be able to use it on his adventures.

  There was no covering of dust in here, but that wasn’t the most telling sign of human presence. The table had the remains of a card game on it, and some empty beer mugs made out of clay as well. There were two corridors leading off the room and he headed toward the west one.

  New Quest: Thin the Herd (Optional sub-quest of Culling the Cult). Deal with the cultists' reserve guards. Do you accept this quest?

  Vandal wanted more info than that notification provided so he selected the full description. “Find the living quarters for the cultists, and thin out their numbers there to make your task easier in the rest of the main quest.”

  Well, that certainly suggested that there was a way to do this quest solo. Still the golden area on his mini-map for the Thin the Herd quest, was just down the corridor that he was sure led to the cavern, so it was on the way. Ever the sucker for one-hundred-percent completion of maps, Vandal decided to check the other direction first.

  Vandal backed off and headed for the other corridor. Maybe he could find more loot that would help him defeat the cultists. The first magic lantern in the north corridor was dull and lifeless, the metalwork twisted and scorched, and the glass shattered. As a result, the corridor was dark not that far in. He couldn’t see if there was another or not, but he pressed forward, hoping to be able to find out.

  When it lit though, he wasn’t quite expecting it and the sudden increase in light was dazzling, startling him. Vandal stumbled back, banging into the wall noisily. There was a sharp squeal of fright from further down the corridor at the same time. It was a distinctly feminine sound, but he didn’t hear anything else.