Scout (Blades VR Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

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  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  Epilogue

  Blades VR

  Book 1:Scout

  Terry Schott

  www.terryschott.com

  www.terryschott.com/mailing-list

  Copyright

  Blades VR

  Book 1:Scout

  ©2017 by Terry Schott

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express, written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  1

  Big news in the world of computer gaming today.

  Rumours have been circulating for some time that ARC Gaming, the company that gained their fame and fortune by releasing the fantasy Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game, The Blades of Verchinor, is working on a virtual reality game.

  As of today, we can confirm those rumours are true. In a major press release, ARC co-founder Isaac Chase has announced that they have created a virtual game world for players to explore and adventure in.

  What type of world have they crafted out of the digital matrix? Preu Treya. That’s right, folks. If you love the PC version of the game, you will soon be able to enter your favourite world from The Blades of Verchinor.

  One disappointing note about the announcement is that the average player will be waiting for a while before they get the chance to create an account. Beta testing will open within the next couple of days with the first round of invites going out to initial investors in the project. For every two million dollars given, an investor can create one player account.

  Isaac says that after beta testing is complete, regular subscriptions will be offered to the public.

  Critics of the company have been quick to voice the opinion that Sebastian Darndhal, co-founder and the technological brain behind ARC Gaming, would never stand for such price gouging. Unfortunately, Mr. Darndhal has not been seen or heard from for the past two months, which leaves Isaac free to do as he pleases.

  Trent Grand, UGN gaming blog.

  Amanda smiled as the front door opened and stepped out from behind the clear glass counter, smoothing her expensive designer micro skirt.

  The man’s hair was messy and his suit, once an expensive piece of fashion, was wrinkled and torn. His designer leather shoes were worn and scuffed, traces of the original deep brown finish only visible in small patches. He looked to be in his early fifties with silver stubble covering his tanned face. Behind his haphazard appearance, the man’s eyes were sharp and focused.

  “Hello, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “‘Course there is.” The words came out raspy. He began to cough, a wet, crackling sound from deep in his lungs. Amanda remembered coughing like that when she’d gotten pneumonia on a photo shoot in Bermuda. The man covered his mouth with the crook of one arm, bending over at the waist until the fit passed. Then he stood and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket before speaking. “Blades of Verchinor.”

  “I’m sorry.” Amanda frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He nodded and looked around, waving a hand at the sparsely decorated showroom. “I’m here to play.”

  “The video game?” She frowned, then pursed her lips as she looked around at the sparse, yet expensive surroundings. “We are not selling copies of a video game here. You could try the local mall for that.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Not the video game, girl.”

  “Then I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

  “Virtual reality.”

  She paused and the man laughed. “They didn’t hire you for your poker skills, did they?”

  Amanda looked toward the mirror in the corner of the room. “I’m sorry, sir, our business is conducted by appointment only.”

  “I know how it works. I have an appointment. Two p.m. John Docker.” He raised a hand and waved at the mirror. “Tell your boss I’m here and don’t have all day.”

  She turned on her heel. “Please wait here.”

  He grunted and Amanda paused at the door on the far wall, knocked, then opened it. She entered, frowning at her boss. “Is this guy for real?”

  Norman looked away from the two-way glass and shrugged as he stood. “I just checked and it looks like the appointment is real, but there’s no way this guy can afford a ticket.” He touched Amanda’s arm as he walked past. “Wait here. I’ll get rid of him.”

  “Thanks, Norm.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Norman shut the door behind him and summoned a smile for the unkempt man. “I’m Norman.” He extended his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, John.”

  John frowned and crossed his arms. “I won’t take up much of your time, Norm. Let’s get to it.”

  Norman withdrew his hand, careful to keep smiling. “I don’t remember speaking with you on the phone. Who did you make your appointment with?”

  “Made it online.”

  “I see.”

  “Can we hurry it up, pal?”

  “Sure.” Norman turned and walked toward Amanda’s desk. “If you’ll follow me, John, I’ll bring up your information and we can get things rolling.”

  Norman stood behind the desk. He brought up the details on the monitor and frowned. “It looks as if full payment for your adventure has been received, John.”

  “Adventure.” He snorted. “‘Course you’ve been paid.”

  “An escort is on its way to pick you up from our location and take you to processing. Should be here in less than ten minutes.”

  “Good.”

  “Can I offer you something to drink while you wait?”

  John grunted and shook his head.

  “We have a very generous referral program. Would you like to give me the names of any friends who might enjoy playing the VR version of Blades of Verchinor?”

  John laughed. “You’re kidding?”

  “No.”

  The older man opened his mouth, then paused, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t recommend this game to any of my friends.”

  “I see.” Norman was silent for a few seconds. “I must say, we don’t get many people your age who are interested in trying this new technology.”

  John stared.

  Norman cleared his throat and looked at the screen
again. He frowned. “There’s one issue here with your reservation.”

  “Only one?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ve paid for permanent log-in.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You understand what that means?”

  “It’s pretty self-explanatory, Norm.” John laughed and tapped his chest. “I go into the VR game for good, this body dies. That about covers it, I think.”

  “That’s right.” Norman nodded. “But there are no instructions for how to—”

  “Go ahead. Spit it out.”

  “What would you like us to do with your remains, John?”

  “Don’t much care.” He waved a hand. “Dump me in the alley. Feed me to the dogs.”

  Norman laughed and then put a hand over his mouth. “That’s not funny.”

  “You laughed. It’s funny.”

  “Still, you should give us some direction as to wha—”

  “Fine. I want you to stuff me and prop me here by the desk.”

  Norman’s smile disappeared. John laughed. “Like I said. It doesn’t matter to me what you do with it. Now stop yapping and let me sit here quietly ‘til my ride gets here.”

  Norman shook his head. The guy just paid us two million dollars. Guess I’ll shut up. “As you wish, sir.”

  ***

  Two days later, the phone rang in Norman’s office.

  “Hello?”

  “Heya, Norm. It’s Ben over in processing.”

  “Hi, Ben. What’s up?”

  “Coupla days ago we got a permanent log-in customer from your location.”

  “Old cranky guy?”

  “That’s the one.” Ben laughed.

  “Everything went properly?”

  “Oh yeah, no problems getting him hooked up and sent in.”

  “Good.”

  “Wondering what you wanted us to do with the body, though. There were no instructions left on the work order.”

  Norman sighed. “Dump it in the alley.”

  “What?”

  Norman laughed. “He said he didn’t care. Told me to go ahead and dump it in the alley or feed it to the dogs.”

  “Oh. Well, you know we can’t do that. They’re watching us very closely to make sure we respect those who opt for permanent log-in.”

  “I know.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “Not really.”

  “Maybe someone over at ARC wants a say?”

  Norman frowned. “Why would anyone over there care?”

  “Well, we were going through his belongings. You know, after.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The ID on him says his name isn’t John Docker.”

  “Sure it does. I checked it myself.”

  “Well, yeah. He had that one piece of ID, but the rest all had a different name.”

  “Likely fake.”

  “No. There was a DNA card, and it matched the blood sample we took from the cadaver.”

  “Damn.” Norman shook his head. “What was the guy’s real name then?”

  “Sebastian Darndhal.”

  Norman’s mouth went dry.

  “Hello? You hear me, Norm?”

  “There’s no way.”

  “Oh, there sure is. He even had his old ID badge from when he was with ARC. Says president and co-founder right under the guy’s picture.”

  “We just sent the creator of Blades of Verchinor into his own virtual reality game.”

  Ben laughed. “Looks like it.”

  “Oh god.”

  “It a big deal?”

  Yes! “Not likely. Still, don’t tell anyone.”

  There was silence.

  “I mean it, Ben. Not a word to anyone. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, sure man.”

  “I’ll get back to you about the body.”

  “Okay, thanks. And say hi to Velma and the kids. It’s been awhile since we all got tog—”

  Norman hung up the phone. After a moment, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk, withdrew a bottle of scotch and a glass, half-filled it, then tipped it back, draining it in one long gulp. He reached for the phone, his hand shaking.

  2

  I know. These gaming terms can be confusing.

  The best way to understand the various terms is to use them. Of course, if that was your intention, then you wouldn’t be purchasing this book, would you?

  Chances are good that if you’re reading this, a loved one is playing some form of The Blades of Verchinor, and you want to be able to understand what the heck they are talking about.

  Whether that someone in your life is into the role-playing game with dice, paper, and pencil, or the PC game, or even the brand new Blades VR edition, there is good news for you: the majority of the terminology is the same for all versions.

  That’s right. If they say, Blades, Blades of Verchinor, or Blades VR, then they are speaking about the actual game. If they say they are a crafter, then the character they are playing is a magic user of some kind. Tank is a warrior, and hybrid is a mixture of warrior/magic user. Keep in mind that most are hybrids; seventy-two percent of players prefer that their main—the character they will play most of the time—will be a combination of magic user and weapon swinger.

  Here’s another term you will hear often that seems to confuse those who don’t play: Preu Treya is the name of the fantasy world.

  So here it is all put together: the game, Blades of Verchinor, takes place in the imaginary fantasy world called Preu Treya.

  Sebastian opened his eyes and sat up.

  He was in a clearing in the middle of a small field surrounded by green grass that extended as high as his neck. He reached down with one hand and dug into the soft dirt, grabbing a clump of moist soil and raising it up to sniff as he took in the woods nearby. He looked up at the blue sky and white clouds. Crystal clear sounds of nature filled his ears; birds singing, insects calling, the faint creaking of trees moving in the breeze. He dropped the dirt, stood, and smiled. “It’s all so real.”

  He turned slowly and stopped when he saw a small village appear a few miles away. It was close enough that he could see the clay tile roofing and rough field stone walls of the buildings. Dark smoke rose in patches, drifting into the sky from fireplaces.

  Sebastian began to turn once more.

  His smile faded when he saw the looming, dark tower. He stroked his beard, longer than it had been when he was alive. He frowned and shook his head. “Rebirth. That’s a better way to look at it.”

  He looked down and examined himself. He wore a light brown wool tunic, dark pants, and rough leather boots. A small knife was strapped to his belt and hung on his right side. He slid the sheath so that it was on his left side and grunted. “All the cash I spent and they give me nothing by way of starting items.” He looked at the dark tower and began walking. “Better fix that first.”

  ***

  The wizard’s apprentice, Ezref, reached the top step of the tower, leaned against the rough stone and panted. When he regained his breath, he stood and approached the black wooden door.

  “Master?” He rapped once on the door and pressed his ear to the wood.

  Seconds passed before he heard a muffled reply. “What?”

  Ezref closed his eyes. He’s angry. Don’t panic, you knew he’d be angry. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Master.”

  The door groaned and Ezref hopped backward as it flew open. The powerful wizard stood in the middle of the room, silver runes on his black robe pulsing, indicating dark magic was present. Ebony tattoos writhed over the pale white skin of his bald skull and crimson light beamed through the narrowed slits of his eyes. One hand stroked his short, pointed, black beard, the other extended toward Ezref, fingers curled into claws.

  His voice was low, a mix of strength and hoarseness from years of breathing in acrid smoke while chanting the dark incantations of his craft. “I told you not to interrupt me.”

  “Yes.”
>
  “Was I not clear?”

  “You were, master.”

  “You forget the penalty that I promised?”

  “No.”

  The wizard shook his head. “Perhaps the method of punishment was not described sufficiently.”

  The apprentice banished his fear and met his master’s gaze with a flat stare. “I must cut the middle toe from my right foot, with the scissors, in one stroke. The method was properly described.”

  “Very well.” The wizard shrugged. The crimson light in his eyes faded and they returned to their natural brown colour. His angry scowl transformed into what, for him, was almost a pleasant smile. “What is it, then?”

  “There is a visitor.”

  “Someone approaches?”

  Ezref bowed his head to hide his smile. “No. He waits in the entrance below.”

  The evil mage frowned. “That’s not possible. None can approach this tower without being detected by my ward spells.”

  Yet someone has. The apprentice banished the smile and looked up. “He would like to meet with you.”

  “That’s not possible. Send him away.”

  “He asked for you by name, Master.”

  Harsh laughter. “That’s also impossible. If anyone speaks my name within a hundred-mile radius, I know it.” He glared at the apprentice. “I am in no mood to be played with, boy. If I go downstairs and find no one there—”

  “He is.”

  “Or that you have lain a trap for me.”

  “I am not powerful enough to make that attempt, Master.”

  The mage scowled. “Yes. That much is true.” He pulled the hood of the dark robe over his head and pointed to a spot in the corner. “Stand there.”

  The apprentice entered the room and stood upon a small black circle drawn on the stone floor. His skin tingled.

  The mage came to stand in front of the apprentice, his expression hard. “If you are lying about this, you will lose much more than a toe. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  The mage turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  The apprentice smiled again.

  ***

  Sebastian felt a calmness settle over him as the wizard approached. Numbers began to stream through his head, memories of code from long ago. He took a deep breath and blinked, feeling the power all around him, waiting to be commanded. He smiled.