C+4

  Your Rage has increased by 1.

  Alastair woke in shock but didn’t realize where he was. He didn’t know what the day was. Was this the day he trekked from the farms to the bay and the men who had found him were transporting him somewhere? Had he somehow been reset to waking up on the boat in West Shilgrave and lost other progress along the way?

  He heard snoring around him and at least one quiet conversation. This certainly didn’t seem like the crowd that had dragged him along last night. At least they hadn’t eaten him or given him over to Maelstrom.

  He realized he always woke up sitting in a boat with his arms shackled behind him when he reset to West Shilgrave. Considering he was lying down on canvas, it couldn’t be that. And he had a rage notification, which only occurred when he had not died the day before.

  “Wake up sleepyhead,” a voice said gently in his ear. His eyes opened wide, but it was too dark to make out anything other than a dark outline.

  Alastair thought he recognized the voice. A moment of fright overcame him and a hand covered his mouth.

  “Don’t make too much noise and come join me on the deck when you’ve composed yourself.”

  The hand went away. Despite himself, Alastair let out a little “yip.” He watched the outline move toward a ladder and disappear into the darkness.

  Alastair thought he was graceful, but he was not. It took him some effort to get out of the canvas hammock. He had been placed onto a lower one, and received a swinging foot in the face from the person above him, but made it to the ground with only a slight effort and a little noise. He worked toward the gently illuminated ladder and climbed up to the deck.

  The moon was setting but provided a bit of illumination on deck and to the ladder. He looked around, realizing there was water in all directions, that he must be on a much larger ship than the little boat that carried him to the prison tavern. Two tall masts with full sails pushed the ship along.

  A shape leaned on the rails looking out over the water. He supposed this was the voice who had spoken with him. As he walked closer the name and title became clear. “Maelstrom, Brawler 3.” He continued and put his hands on the rails.

  “It is you,” he said, avoiding looking at her.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Yes. Welcome to a new side of your adventure,” she answered.

  “How did you manage to change my spawn location? I should be set to wake at the University in Shilgrave.”

  “The doctor owes…owed…me a favor. He used a spell.”

  “Was he one of the thugs that caught me last night?”

  “Not likely. He’s a lovely man, really. It was probably the crew members who captured you.”

  “Are you going to kill me outright?”

  She chuckled. “I did that before, right? No, Nova, I’m not going to kill you outright.” She leaned toward him, gripped his wrist, and squeezed like a vice. “But I reserve the right to change that decision if you are unusually unhelpful.”

  Despite the fright overcoming him, he said defiantly, “From the look of it, we’re at the same level now. It won’t be as easy as when I was level 0 and you were level 2.”

  “That is a factor in my calculations.”

  “So, what do you want from me to not be unusually unhelpful?”

  Maelstrom continued looking at the sea. The sound of the ship pushing through the water was relaxing, and he considered that if he were in the real world he’d probably be drowsy. After another moment, she released the grip on his wrist.

  “I’m ready to be out of the game now. I don’t think we’re meant to be in it this long. So I realize I need to play nicer to reach exit criteria.”

  “And just like that you kidnap me and change my spawn point, regardless of my own goals and objectives.”

  “Keep your voice down. Yes. Because despite your…apparent…progress, you’re still wandering aimlessly through this world. You don’t even have your partner with you. Your equipment is lacking, and you didn’t even have the stamina to make it to Flowing Sands without passing out.”

  “Yeah, well…” he had nothing to say, so he let his rebuttal drop.

  “Tell me. What would you have done this morning if you woke up in Shilgrave? Walk to the front door of Bacton and request an audience with the Lord Necromancer?”

  “No. I was going to get better gear and rough travel boots.”

  “And then?”

  “Probably try for the front door of the Keep.”

  “I guess you can only learn once how easy that fails.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “My solo siege failed, but it was earlier when I was still level 2. Just a bit before I killed you and your wife.”

  “So you want my help? After so rudely killing me in the first place?”

  “Galoots could join us. The three of us might have a chance.”

  “I’m not sure Galoots trusts you any more than I do. If you knew her at all, you’d know how paralyzed she is leaving the monastery grounds.”

  “She was cursed with a mighty affliction. It’s not enviable. Look, Nova, I recognize there is no reason for trust. And I’m not asking for it, either. Although, I could have slit your throat while you lay in your hammock this morning. Which should show that I’m not being untrusting. At least hear me out?”

  “Fine. What’s your plan, then?”

  Mal sighed with what seemed like relief. “You’re the first player, other than me, but I started there so it probably doesn’t count, to make it to the Bay. I can show you where the cats are and help you solve the puzzle, then we can work on getting better gear. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be ready for a full-on siege. I misspeak. It’s later in the day tomorrow. There is a back door that the privateers go through which gives us the best chance to have a distraction in place. We use that distraction, solve the keep puzzle, and then exit this cursed place.”

  Alastair said, “Does completing it let everyone in the playtest go?”

  “I don’t know. And at this point, I don’t care.”

  “You wouldn’t.”