The road turned out of the forest and we emerged right on the edge of Ashbrook. It looked like every typical medieval fantasy community the game likes to create. Stone-brick buildings wedged up against each other and crowding over a narrow road.
We paused, taking in the new environment.
“No one is around to welcome us,” Mudhoof said. “There’s always a greeter of some type or other. If not to give you a quest then to annoy you with a history of the place.”
It was also silent. No crowd noises or wagons rolling over stone or hawkers trying to sell their wares. Nothing.
On a hunch I checked my quest tracker which logged our progress.
’After your encounter with the mayor you decide to investigate Ashbrook and what befell its inhabitants.’
I read this to the others.
“Simple enough,” said Thorm. “But I’m not taking any chances. Keep your eyes peeled.” He insisted on leading the way.
As we entered the town-proper the shadows of the buildings fell over us and I felt a chill. Normally, I welcomed the presence of shadows, but this was off. Something was very wrong.
Each building we passed appeared empty, even the shops.
“Maybe we should break in to some of these places and loot them,” suggested Mudhoof.
“And how would that be helping the residents of the town?” I countered.
Mudhoof shrugged. “I should have rolled a thief. They get all the fun.”
The further along the street we went the colder it got. Again, I resorted to adjusting my simulation suit’s temperature controls.
Mudhoof shivered. “I’m freezing off my bull-bits. Someone turn up the heat.”
I said to Feign, “You must be enjoying this.”
The ice mage shrugged. “Now you know what it’s like to be me all the time. Still, this drop in temperature is an indication of bad magic. Demon magic, possibly.”
This made us even more wary.
We passed by side streets and when I looked down them it was more of the same. Nothing. No people, no activity.
“I think we’re coming up on the town square,” Thorm said.
Suddenly, above us someone hissed. “What are you doing? Don’t go there!”
Everyone whirled around, ready for an attack.
A man peeked out from a second-story window. He wore a deep blue robe and was as bald as an egg. A bright white crystal hung from a necklace around his neck. Sweat glistened against his pink skin. “You don’t want to go to the square. It’s too dangerous.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Perrin, the town scribe,” the bald man said. His eyes darted about nervously. “But that doesn’t matter. You need to get off the street. Now!”
I glanced at the others.
Thorm shrugged. “He might have information we can use. Let’s pay him a visit.”
To Perrin I said, “We’re coming in to talk. Don’t worry we’re friendly.”
“Friendly right up until he mutates into an acid spewing monster,” Mudhoof said as we filed through the building’s only door.
The inside was as quaint as the exterior. Simple furniture and knickknacks. Everything had the look of being hand crafted.
A stairwell led up and Perrin appeared at the top. He regarded us with obvious nervousness.
“What business do you have being here?” He asked, giving Mudhoof furtive glances. Probably had never seen a minotaur before.
“We’re, uh, adventurers looking to help out,” I said. That was true enough. I could have told him we were human players logged into a game where he wasn’t even real. But where was the fun in that?
Perrin mulled this over. “Well, if you think you can help, it would be most welcome, but I don’t know what good it would do.”
“What happened here?” Thorm asked.
“It all started with when that black tower appeared. It grew right out of the ground at the end of the valley. Then people started acting strangely. Getting angry. Fighting. But it got worse. Much worse. Everyone began to develop black veins in their skin.”
“Everyone?” I asked and shot Mudhoof a meaningful glance. The minotaur frowned with concern.
“Yes. Everyone except me. I don’t know why. So I hid in the cellar here for several days, thinking it would all clear up on its own.” He chuckled nervously. “Foolish, I know, but where else was I to go? I only emerged this morning to see what had happened. Empty streets. No people. Then a few hours ago I heard the most horrid screams and shouts coming from the town square.”
“What happened there?”
“I don’t know. I’m too craven to go look myself, but the screams stopped a short while ago. Terrifying.”
“Let’s go check out the square,” Mudhoof said. “Beats hiding in here.”
Perrin’s eyes went wide. “No! The noises alone were terrible. It sounded as if people were being eaten alive!”
Mudhoof laughed. “Now this I got to see for myself.”
Before I could suggest a more cautious approach, Mudhoof went back out into the street. Thorm shrugged and followed. Feign looked to me.
“Not the wisest approach,” the ice mage said. “But we best go after them. Safety in numbers.”
As Feign and I left the building I said to Perrin, “Stay put and don’t go near the windows. We’ll set things right soon enough.” The game usually gave extra experience points if you treated the non-player characters like real people.
“You poor fools,” Perrin said, shaking his head sadly. “You’re going to your doom!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once back in the empty street we all filed in behind Mudhoof who made his way toward the center of town.
“I hate skulking around,” he said by way of explaining himself.
“Then you’d make a lousy thief,” Thorm said with a smile.
“True enough,” Mudhoof said. “But I can’t stand waiting for things to happen. Got to forge ahead. We still have that other group out here somewhere and I don’t think they’d be spending their time stuck in a building talking to an egg-head.”
Before anyone say anything else, Mudhoof held up his hand. “We’re here,” he said.
We entered the town square. It was large and tiered down by several levels like a stadium. On the lowest level, at its center, sat a well. A strange set up by any medieval town’s standards.
But that wasn’t the strangest part of all.
There were people here. Hundreds of them. They looked to be townsfolk and all of them stood bunched together in a big crowd. But no one moved. Still as statues. And each were facing in one direction – toward the center, at the well.
“What the heck?” Muttered Thorm while he adjusted the grip on his great broadsword.
Not one person gave us so much as a glance. It was as if we didn’t exist. Their entire focus was the well.
I looked at the people closest. They were dirty and their clothes disheveled as if they’d been fighting. But there was one detail that caused even greater concern other than their strange behavior.
They all had black veins marbled in their flesh.
“Oh, dear,” said Feign.
“Told ya,” Mudhoof said to me.
“What?” I asked, nervously surveying the huge rabble.
“All bottled up,” Mudhoof said. His confidence faltered a little at the sight of so many potential mutants. Each one could become as crazed and powerful as the mayor who nearly wiped us out all on his own.
I looked over the crowd, trying to guess their number. The game picked up on this and gave it to me: 1,006.
“Maybe we should just turn around and…” I said before the ground beneath our feet shook. The vibration was so hard the masonry of the nearby buildings cracked and windows shattered.
Our group fought to keep their balance. I used my sure-footed ability which locked my feet to the ground. The others didn’t have it so easy.