The rest of the group seemed to agree on the point, aside from the stoic Suresh who remained ever noncommittal.
After a few more steps, Savior pointed out a grand panther crouching behind brush some ways off, staring at the group. Even after its location had been shown to him, Dakkon couldn’t see the cat. “His vision must be modified somehow,” Dakkon reasoned.
“Dakkon,” Brett began, “very slowly and carefully walk forwards about halfway to where that panther is hunkering down. If it bolts, that’s fine, but if it attacks then we can drop it from a distance before it gets to you. Grand panther pelts are very valuable, and it would be a real shame for us to miss the chance.”
Dakkon could understand the wisdom in this, a whole troop of players might scare a hungry panther away, but a single man might just tempt the beast to strike.
“It’ll be fine, Dakkon,” Brett reassured him “Just keep your eyes low and watch out for any trouble. If the cat makes a run for you, leg it back this way.”
Dakkon craned his neck in a nervous stretch and decided to trust in the words of the group that had taken him in. He slowly walked forward toward the oversized ambush predator concealed so well that he couldn’t see it. Dakkon moved ahead, step after step, and at about the midway point heard a rustle from above him.
The group of men he had left cheered and hollered as a massive black feline killing machine descended upon Dakkon from a tree branch. His eyes met with the beast’s and before he had a chance to do anything he was dead.
[You have been sneak attacked for 158 damage. Remaining HP 0/80]
[You have died.]
[You will be barred from reentering Chronicle for 11 hours True Time.]
Dakkon’s vision began to darken and fall away from him. Moments later he could smell a sharp citrus fragrance, became aware of a short-lived tumbling sensation, and knew he was back in the real world.
C
HAPTER 8:
F
RIDAY
N
IGHT
Four days. Corbin was incensed. He wouldn’t be able to participate on the quest for nearly four days. He’d have lost a portion of his money, his skills that he had been cultivating would lose a large amount of experience towards their next ranks, and he may have even dropped his precious dagger.
“When I find those bastards… Arden, Savior, Suresh and Brett—especially Brett,” Corbin would take care to remember their names, “I’ll…” he trailed off. What would he do, exactly? “I’ll have to think of something special.”
Corbin didn’t consider himself to be petty, but the thoughts that filled his mind were exactly that. He’d like to find exactly where they respawned and kill them over, and over, and over again. He’d love to strip the items from them one by one. He’d be thrilled if he could put them at ends with one another and find a way to orchestrate a scheme so heinous that the four would never be able to walk into an area that hinted of civilization without the collective population scrambling to collect the bounty on their heads. But he knew he couldn’t do anything like that. He was a level four thermomancer with no combat skills nor the curried favor of powerful people. It was, however, only his first day in the game—so, he could grow.
He decided he wouldn’t waste any more time on his hatred. “Sure, they ridiculed me and set me up to be pounced on by a giant man-eating cat, but…” Corbin tried to stop his line of thought. “Keep your eyes low,” he mocked.
Corbin was certainly frustrated. Not only had he died and been left unable to play, but this was a rare three-day-weekend of an opportunity to really get a good start in the world of Chronicle. In a game where dying meant losing four days and some amount of progress, he could feel the repercussions. “I’m going to have to keep my guard up from now on,” Corbin resolved.
“Now, what to do?” Corbin wondered. He wasn’t even remotely tired, so sleeping was out of the question, and if he tried, he knew he’d likely just remember the events that had just unfolded. He needed a distraction.
Corbin sat on his couch. “Pixie, pull up ChronCast for me.”
“You got it, boss,” a melodic, female voice replied from no distinct direction. The wall in front of Corbin transformed.
An anchor Corbin hadn’t seen before was reporting. “…rather interesting class. Bards sing or play songs that apply beneficial effects to allies, or detrimental effects to enemies. They can even perform songs that directly damage foes…” The woman was in her late 20s, with a lively bob cut of brown hair that bounced as she emphasized words. “…most interesting feature of a bard is how those effects are applied. Every fourth beat triggers a song’s effect, so, if a bard plays in double time the effects trigger twice as often.”
“Pixie, turn off the stream,” Corbin ordered. Watching ChronCast just spurred him to want to play even more. Worst of all, learning about another class just made him feel more useless due to his current role. “Find some standup comedy I haven’t seen before.”
“Any particular genres or topics?” his pixie AI assistant asked.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Corbin said before adding, “Just make sure it has an average user rating of at least 70 percent.”
“Not a problem,” the assistant replied as the wall in front of Corbin changed again.
It took Corbin about half an hour to begin enjoying himself. After another 40 minutes, his entertainment was interrupted by a request for entrance by a PKT Mart delivery drone.
“Don’t bother coming in. It’s not much. Leave it out there and I’ll pick it up,” Corbin denied access to the delivery robot.
\\\\\\
After eating a home cooked meal, courtesy of his Print-n-Grille, Corbin couldn’t help but think of the delectable hodgepodge he’d bought from the ‘Everything on a stick!’ stand. He had calmed down considerably but still pined for the vivid world Chronicle provided. He decided he’d sleep the remainder of his downtime away, so that he’d be fresh for a full day of turning in quests, leveling up, and hopefully finding a more worthwhile class to gallivant around as.
After showering, dutifully brushing his teeth, and neglecting to floss, Corbin crawled into his small but comfortable bed and drifted to sleep where he would sweetly dream of eating all sorts of delicacies from skewers.
\\\\\\
Corbin woke before the sun had its chance to rise, at 3:06, as though he had spent the whole of his previous day drinking. His state of mind, however, couldn’t be any less muddled. Corbin was feeling well rested, sharp, and eager to get back to leveling up his character. The ruse that had taken him yesterday seemed to be a distant memory save for the ember of revenge he vowed to keep fanning until he could put it to purpose.
Corbin wasted no time. He set to have his meal prepared by his printer, took a shower, then ate. He aimed to work twice as hard as he would have, in order to make up the days of playtime he had missed. After his preparations to enter the game were complete, the cool voice of the capsule greeted him with: “To begin playing Chronicle, please say ‘Engage.’” Corbin obliged.
C
HAPTER 9: