Chapter 6 Raymond

[Achievement unlocked: Man’s Best Friend] Kill a wolf of the jungle.

[Achievement unlocked: Pressure Points] Score two critical hits during a single instance of combat.

[Achievement unlocked: One Small Step] Complete five achievements. Unlocks a primitive loot box.

The notifications were coming in thick and fast now that combat was over. They stayed minimised in the bottom right hand corner of my UI. I really should have stayed in the moment, god only knew what mobs were lurking in the jungle, and I now had one avatar who could barely walk to support. But I couldn’t help myself. Achievements felt good.

Iris gave me stilted directions towards her camp. She didn’t seem to be in a talking mood, but I wouldn’t hold it against her. The bleeding was ebbing from her wound, but not by much. Her pale skin was slick with sweat that had nothing to do with the humidity.

I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting when I heard the word camp, but what I saw was barely more than some fur-lined tents surrounding a single campfire. A few avatars glanced up as I approached, and I saw that nearly all of them were wearing primitive armour, not the slightly more advanced fur that Iris and her fallen friends had worn.

A man appeared. Broad, tall, his dark hair wild, his beard overgrown. I tried to examine him the way I had the thing in the jungle, but was barred. Apparently examining other avatars was a skill I hadn’t yet unlocked.

‘Where are the others?’ said the man sharply, as he took Iris’s arm and slung it across his shoulder, helping her onward. He didn’t even look at me.

Iris gave him a dark look as way of answer. ‘This guy saved me. Says his name is Reaver.’

‘What kind of name is that?’ said the bearded man. ‘Forget it. Get Nina to take a look. Fuck, down to one shaman…’ I stood there, unsure of how to proceed when the man turned back. ‘Are you coming?’

We entered one of the tents. It seemed like it was set up as a primitive triage area. There were simple furs on the ground and various stone tools on one side, beside a wooden chest. The woman inside, who I presumed was Nina, held a shaman’s staff. She was thin, cheeks hollowed. The bearded man lay Iris down. Her eyes were firmly closed. Nina began to use her shaman’s magic, green light emanating from her staff, as she placed it close to Iris’s leg. It began to knit immediately, the magic accelerating the healing so that before long the bleeding had stopped completely and there looked to be scabs that were weeks old.

I had thought Iris would recover, but her eyes remained firmly closed. Nina seemed to catch the look on my face. ‘The magic heals, but the body still needs to recover.’ Her eyes went to my chest. ‘I’m out of mana, but I can give you some healing poultices?’

‘We need those,’ said the bearded man gruffly. ‘We’re down to our last six.’

‘Iris wouldn’t be alive without this man,’ the shaman countered.

‘And whose fault is that?’

‘Not his.’

‘I’ll take it,’ I said. I didn’t know what a poultice was, but I hadn’t actually figured out any other way to heal myself. And this bearded guy could go fuck himself for all I cared. Nina nodded, and went to the wooden chest. When she returned, there were two small bags, the size of my palm, that had been crafted from plant fibre. They were heavy, slightly damp, and filled with something that smelt faintly of elderflower. I took one, placing it against my chest where it disappeared. I checked my hit points and saw that they were tracking up now at a rate of five per second. I stowed the other.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Come on,’ said the bearded man. He sounded more weary now than angry. ‘Let’s talk, Reaver.’

Hmm. I didn’t love how he was saying that.

He took me to another of the tents. Judging by the three clubs stacked against the side, beardy here was a barbarian. There were simple stone cups, and he poured me water from a granite jug. I accepted it, and though the water had a hard taste to it, I was grateful nonetheless.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‘My name is Raymond. Sorry if I was a little abrasive. It’s been a tough day.’ He took a sip of his own water, squatting down to sit.

‘Iris said you guys had been here for months?’ I said, taking a seat myself. There was no floor mat, just the hard, impacted earth. Raymond nodded.

‘Shitty months. One minute I was working construction, day like any other and next this light opens up. Some robot is telling me I’m in a trial, and I end up here, along with these guys. Or what’s left of them.’

I stayed quiet, but that was interesting. So they knew even less than I did. Didn’t seem like it had occurred to them to get to the tutorial zone.

‘How many were you originally?’

Raymond seemed to consider. ‘Give or take, twenty. It was decent in the beginning. Built a little community here, worked together, trying to find a way to the gate. But things kept getting worse and worse. Wolves got stronger, more organised and then the fucking natives. Savages. Cannibals.’

His eyes were haunted. I didn’t press him any further on that last knowledge bomb.

‘This is some kind of game isn’t it? So what are these other tribes? NPCs?’