Chapter 2: Chapter Two

(AUTHOR’S NOTE! So, I know it’s only been a few days since the first chapter went up, but I was contacted almost immediately on Discord by a very talented individual who kindly produced the bookcover art that we now have! Thank you so much, Dev! And thank you to all you lovely people who read my first chapter, I really appreciate it! It means so much to me that you like my amateurish scribblings, but I’m gonna keep trying to improve and bring you the content you deserve! Anyway, chapter two, goo!)

“-AAAAAHHHHH!” I yelp, as I jerk to a halt. I’d been falling, mashed the character creation screen, and now I… wasn’t? I raise a hand to my head, before blinking. In my grasp… is a long, wooden handle. At one end is a dull, but serviceable-looking spearhead. The haft of my weapon is a bit worn, but in reasonable repair, and I look to my left hand. Gripped firmly in my fingers is a large, rough wooden shield. Looking down at my body, I can see rigid leather armour ensconcing me. Unlike other classic MMOs, the leather armour I’m wearing isn’t form-fitting at all, but bulky and durable.

Shrugging, I turn to look around, then pause. The act of shifting my shoulders had been different. As a gentle breeze whirls around me, I can feel leaves rustling behind me. Wait. Feel? Craning my neck, I turn my head, and almost yelp again as a curved, feathery shape shifts. With a thrill of delight running through me, I flex my shoulders, and let out a cry as my wings-WINGS! Huge, white, angel wings!-shiver, and then unfurl with a booming snap. They’re massive, and emit a faint, radiant glow as I curl them round in front of me to inspect them. When my gauntleted hands make contact with them, I shudder and twitch. I can… feel them, with my fingers AND my new wings!

I don’t know how long I stood there, gently touching and caressing my beautiful, strong, powerful wings, but it must’ve been at least half an hour. Eventually, though, I shake my head and practice furling and unfurling them, not quite ready to risk attempting flight yet. Finally looking around, I take stock of where I am. A small clearing, gentle sunlight filtering through the overhanging branches of the surrounding trees. A small brook babbles and ripples as it flows across one side of the little glade, and I draw a deep breath into my lungs, feeling the clean, fresh air flow through my whole body, invigorating every cell of my being, not a single taste or scent of the pollutants common to the real world’s stale, recycled air.

Now, finally, I turn towards a wide path at the other end of the dell. With no other guide or direction, I start to walk, adjusting my stride to accommodate the added weight of my wings, following the wide, winding path through the deep forest. The sounds of birds and small mammals scampering through the underbrush and fluttering between branches surrounds me as I hike, slowly growing used to my new appendages. Cresting a rise, I look down at the fields, stalks of golden wheat in rows sprawled out along the path as it wends its way towards a picturesque village encircled by a stout wooden palisade, gates open wide, smoke rising from chimneystacks, clusters of people working on harvesting and binding the ripe golden ears into bushels and loading them onto carts.

Making my way down of the rise, I stride slowly along the well-trodden dirt highway, turning my head and shyly waving, noticing the stares and murmuring my presence seems to attract. No-one approaches me, though, and I make it to the gates, two spear-wielding guards eyeing me curiously. One of them holds up a hand, signalling me to halt. “Not see you around ‘ere before. And those wings… be ye Skyborne, if’n ye don’t mind my askin’?”
Halting as requested, I nod, and clear my throat. “Uh, yes. I am indeed Skyborne, newly arrived in this land and seeking work. My name is…” shrugging, I decide to use one of my more common online aliases. “My name is Callex.” Frowning, I touch my neck curiously. My voice sounded a little strange, more high-pitched and mellifluous than I was used to, but I chalked it up to being a characteristic of my race. Maybe being a denizen of a floating island leads to having a higher register, in order to be heard over rushing winds?

He nods, actually making a game effort to salute me, as his companion straightens. “Welcome to Tillberry, Skyborne Callex. If’n you’re lookin’ fer work, there be a bounty board in the tavern. There’re other Argonauts inside, so ye’d best make haste. There bain't many jobs as’re worth dirtying your hands with around this neck o’ the woods, but it’d be mighty valued should ye be inclined to aid us.”
Argonauts, the name given to all player characters, meant that I wasn’t the only actual person here. As I nod and thank the guardsman, he blinks in surprise, then attempts another salute, with a modicum more success this time. Taking my leave, I enter the main thoroughfare of the small hamlet, spotting a few individuals of clearly non-human appearance. An Andromal is arm-wrestling with a brawny-looking human at a table by the tavern, both seemingly evenly matched. A short, bearded dwarf is running his thumb along the blade of his axe, checking its edge, as a willowy Alv strums idly on his lyre, the gentle melody filling the air.

As I meander into the tavern, I muse to myself about how difficult it had been to tell the guard I’d spoken with was an NPC. The developers had really done a phenomenal job at making them act convincingly! I scratch my head, feeling my fingers enveloped in silky hair as I run a hand across my scalp. The bounty board is indeed over against one wall of the tavern, a few scraps of paper nailed to it, and I take care to keep my spear, shield, and of course my wing tight against me as I make my way to the board, perusing the available sidequests. There was one for herb-picking, a couple about herding livestock, nothing that seemed really rewarding, but… the last one had a request to drive off or kill a herd of Diomedan Deer.

I have no clue what a ‘Diomedan Deer’ is, but the reward on offer is a good bit higher than the others, so it should be worth taking. Snagging the scrap of paper, I head to the bar and place it down in front of the barkeep, a matronly woman in what looks to be her late 60’s. “I’ll take this one. Rest assured, your deer problem will be dealt with soon!”

Upon my announcement, I get a notification pop-up. ‘Quest accepted: the Dangerous Deer! The bounty board in Tillberry has lead me to take on a request to dispatch a herd of Diomedan Deer in a vale to the south of the village.’ Smiling now that I had a direction, I set myself on the right bearing, leaving Tillberry the same way I came in. As I pass through the small plaza outside the tavern once more, I catch a glimpse of two new Argonauts. One is a short, golden-scaled Lizzara, about three feet tall, with leathery wings tucked tight to his spine. He’s dashing around, running up to passers-by and proudly proclaiming, “Mur is good Kobold, not bad Kobold, yip!” his companion, a large bestial man with the face of a stubby-muzzled dog or hyena, groans, his thick Scottish accent giving him a deep, commanding tone, “Mur, ge’ o’er here ya wee dobber, we have tae ge’ awa’ an’ find us a quest!”

Once outside the village boundary, making good time on a Southerly course towards my quest destination, I practice swinging and jabbing my spear, using my shield to bash and block imaginary attacks, before trying out one of my skills, a ranged shield strike called ‘Sky Hammer’. Preparing myself, I take the stance, aiming myself at a young tree, and unfurl my wings, bringing them back in a single sharp beat. Immediately, I rocket forward about 15 metres, my wooden shield glowing gently, and then slam into the trunk, the light brightening and then bursting out in a small radius. The tree shudders and leans at a slight angle, looking worse for wear.
I shake my shield arm, feeling tremors running through my body as I feel the skill fade into its cooldown. "Whew... not bad! That’ll break some faces!” I frown at my voice again, before checking my other skills. There’s an electrified spear-thrust, ‘Stormstrike’, but that seems to be it. Well, I AM only Level 1, having more would be odd. Still, I’m definitely not defenceless. I do not fear the deer!
Once I reach the vale where the Diomedan Deer are supposed to be, I slow down and take it one step at a time, peering into the tiny, bowl-like depression in search of my quarry. There, across the slope and halfway up the other side, several russet-brown cervidae are bunched around in a tight huddle, the sounds of grinding teeth and champing jaws breaking the silence of the still, quiet glade. For but a moment. As I take another step, a branch cracks under my sturdy leather boot. Hissing in irritation, I check the status of my prey. They’ve stopped grazing, raising their heads and turning in my direction, ears swivelling. Their eyes are bloodshot and bugging out, mouths dripping with blood, meat spilling in chunks from opening jaws. It wasn’t grass they were feeding on. A clearer look reveals the half-devoured carcass of a huge boar covered in porcupine-like spines. My mind racing, I realise. Diomedan Deer. Diomedes. The man-eating mares of Greek mythology. “Ah, fuck.”

 

As I freeze, confronted by the last thing I could have expected, the herd-no, herd was for ACTUAL deer, not these nightmarish facsimiles of peaceful herbivores. My eyes roam over the creatures, noting with rising horror that each one sports a muzzle full of fangs, not teeth. Fangs suitable for shearing through flesh and hide with ease, almost shark-like. Their hooves aren’t hooves either, more like paws than anything else, hooked claws digging into the turf as they prepare to come at me en-masse. The leader, larger than the rest and sporting a set of wickedly-pronged antlers, lifts its head and cries out.

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I flinch in shock, my ears ringing slightly. The sound emerging from the bull deer’s throat is nothing less than demonic, a howling roar that sends bloody spittle spraying in a mist from its chops as it rears and plunges down the verge towards me. With the sight of the full-grown bull barrelling towards me, I do the only thing I can think of. I brace myself, one foot behind the other, legs apart, knees bent, and angle my greatshield.

With that unearthly bellowing still sounding through the shattered silence, the monstrous deer-beast careens into me, but, using every ounce of strength I have, I manage to prevent my feet from sliding more than a few feet, resisting the bull as it gouges at the rough wooden surface of my novice greatshield. I can feel its momentum halting, and use my shoulder to push back, shunting the Diomedan Deer back several paces. If an angry Hell-fiend could look surprised, the bull certainly did, its bulging eyes narrowing as I swing my spear round to face it, noting with satisfaction that my hand is steady.
Drawing a breath, I focus on the feeling of the wooden haft in my grip, bringing it back to prepare for a thrust, then dash forward and lunge, crackling electricity roiling fiercely around the metal point of my lance. More by luck than skill, the point sinks into the chest of the bull, a loud snap joining the roaring of the Deer as the air ionises from the discharging lightning. It backs off, blackened sludge drooling thickly from the wound, and looks unsure. However, the injury doesn’t seem that severe, and I ready myself for another round of gratuitous violence.

This… is going to get ugly. Especially considering that, behind the bull, I can see the rest of its foul kin beginning to join the fray. Just one of these things has me on the defensive; I’m dead if they all rush me at once. The bull rallies, rearing back and lashing out with its front paw-hooves, tearing strips of bark and timber from the outward face of my shield. One lucky claw snags my cheek, scoring a deep gouge down my face. “Shit, that hurts, you son of a bitch!”

A second flailing paw snags my shoulder, and punctures clean through the pauldron with enough force to tear it in half. Warmth flows down my upper arm and pools at my elbow. Without even looking, I can tell from the smell of iron permeating the air. Blood. MY blood.
“Alright, that does it! I’m not gonna let you eat ME, you freaking butt-pirate! If this is how I die, I’m gonna take you with me, at the very least!” Howling, rage suffusing my whole body, I aim, and, with a careful thrust, I drive my spear-point into the creature’s belly, feeling the impact as it sinks home. It lets out a strangled, groaning wail, and slumps on top of me, almost wrenching the handle of my weapon from my hand, going limp with an awful finality.
Panting, I try to tug my only weapon free of the bull’s cadaver. The pack of Diomedan Deer has gone silent, and I can sense the single-minded hostility building, directed towards me and me alone. A chorus of shrieking lamentations fragments the hush, and the reverberations of half-a-dozen incensed beasts plough forwards at full-pelt, each one seeking to avenge the fallen creature.

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