HTN Breanne Ch 1 Young again

The dress was black with silver trims and a white wrap over the chest. Breanne looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at how dark it looked against her fair skin. Her vivid green eyes stood out as she regarded the angular yet feminine elven features of her face. Her ears rose in points through her midnight black hair crowned by a simple golden band with leaf pattern at the crest, giving her the look of a regal maiden of some high court. The mirror told no lies as she turned about, she was young, beautiful, and full of life. “I can’t believe this is real,” she said softly, turning around to see the backside. “And so perfectly shaped.”  

The sun beamed in through the nearby window, and she stepped into the light bathing in the warmth of the sun's rays. Everything felt as real as the world she left behind yet was so very different. Below in the street, a man who looked like lizard walking on two legs haggled with a blue-skinned man with darker blue hair. Everywhere she looked, there was something new to see in the world of New Eden.  

It was a place of magic and mystery built by a mysterious alien race known only as the visitors. They appeared in orbit years ago and made hundreds of attempts at communication with us. They didn't speak, or think, or even perceive as humans did. This made talking to them all but an impossibility. After two years of failure, they finally said something in a very long and broken message. All they managed to say was they didn't understand but wanted to.   

The machine language of computers appealed to them more, and they were watching the internet. In particular, they were observing our games. Something about the games fascinated them, especially MMOs. They started talking through the games, accidentally bringing down servers and crashing systems. In what the world believed was frustration on their part, they tried an ingenious new solution. They created their own game, running on their systems. They called it New Eden and invited the world to play.  It was based on nearly every fantasy game and property on the planet. It cobbled them all together in fantastic ways and ran so smoothly it was hard to believe it wasn't real. There was just one problem; no computer on the planet could play it. Instead, the visitors sent ships to points all over the globe to build doorways into their world. Here a person could use computers of alien make to create a persona in the fantasy world and then walk through and become their creation.  

She looked at the reflection in the mirror again and smiled. A new chance at a new life with endless possibilities. Why had her friends made such a fuss about her going? Young peoples foolishness, they called it. Probably stealing bodies to clone them and invade, some of them said. Yet the visitors made it possible for the outside world to monitor New Eden, and what she saw made her anxious to go.  

There was no disease or flaw of body in New Eden. If you were blind, you would see. If you were crippled, you would walk. If you were old, you would be young again. You could be nearly anything you wanted to be in a new body and world full of magic and dragons. She signed up the moment the government opened registration. Now she was here, and there was no going back. Not that the thought would ever cross her mind. The young woman in the mirror smiled back; it was time to see the world.

She nodded her head and left her tiny room at the inn. There was no point in remaining inside when there was a world to explore, and wonders to see. Down the stairs of the inn, she went, touching everything to marvel at its texture, still not believing this could be real. The common room was filled with smoke and the scents of meat cooking on a fire. The people gathered inside were as varied as those in the streets, filling her heart with wonder. Her steps were light and full of energy, something she hadn't felt in a very long time. The world of New Eden was a second chance to have a life, and she was quick to embrace it.   

Outside she smelled the scent of a fantasy city and questioned why it didn't smell like a sewer.  She was pretty sure sanitation was a modern thing, but it would appear the visitors took some liberties with realism. She held her head high and took graceful steps, gliding down the street in a regal fashion so grateful to be alive.   

She passed a man who had the lower body of a zebra, and the upper torso of a warrior. He had a huge bow tucked into a belt on his lower body made especially for his size. A woman floated inches from the ground, her bare feet trailing glowing dust in her passing. Her skin a vibrant golden color with faceted black eyes and two feathered antennas rising from her short blue hair. There were plenty of humans about all perfect examples of health and physique. Mixed in with them were dwarves, elves, gnomes, and all the typical fantasy races.   

She was taken aback by how many varieties of elf there were. Each one came with a unique history with special gifts and could look very different in appearance. It was the same for many other races, with a dozen variations or special types. Of course, she had to pick a variety of elf as the other half of her class, but that suited her just fine. She settled on the highborn, a tall and noble elf race of graceful beauty.   

An elf passing the other way tipped his head at her, and she smiled back alluringly. She thought about traveling to one of the elven kingdoms and setting up a home, perhaps with a man to help keep her company. How long had it been since she was held in the firm arms of a lover? Too long by her estimation, the waning years of her life left her rotting in a retirement home, sharing a room with another woman. How many hours did that deaf old bat listen to the same shows playing at near maximum volume? How often had she fled her room to sit outside on the stoop wishing she could be anywhere but there? Time wasn't kind in the real world, but here, time didn't matter. People didn't age, any older than they wanted to. Even if they did, a highborn would live a thousand years or more.   

Her friends at the home mocked her and called her a fool. Now she was young again, a fair maiden, ageless and beautiful, with all the perfection of a finely sculpted body, and a hunger to enjoy it. She had one stop to make before she began and headed to the edge of town and the graveyard outside. It looked like some old graveyard from a fantasy book, complete with wrought iron fence and gargoyle statues. The stones seemed to be hundreds of years old, aged, cracked, and covered in vines or moss. A mausoleum dominated the center of the yard and served as the player's respawn point if they died. Due to her unique class, she had to set a respawn point herself, and that was why she was here. Carefully she crept behind some trees and closed her eyes.   

Though she stood in that graveyard, her mind was another place. She was a little girl again, and her mother was walking with her through the woods. They often took walks in the cool of the morning, and her mother would tell her stories. She loved to talk about Ireland and the stories she heard as a little girl. They were often full of goblins, pixies, and ghosts. One creature in particular always fascinated Breanne, she loved the banshee, and her mother told her many stories about them.  

On dark nights over the swamps and moors, a ghostly woman would haunt the land. Those foolish enough to be out in such places after dark would go missing never to be seen again. They were said to be elven women who lost a great love before they could share loves first embrace. It was always a sad story how her mother told it as if the banshee was a tragic character and not a monster at all. One of the most common stories was that if you heard a banshee's wail, somebody near to you would be dead before morning. Her mother suggested it was a punishment to men for the love the elven woman lost. Her mother's story was that the woman fell in love with a human man, but other men jealous of her beauty killed him so they could have her instead.   

Breanne opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. That story had stuck with her all her life, how amazing it was when she looked at the races of New Eden that Banshee was one of them. A ghostly woman of elven blood who could become solid during the day. At higher levels, she could be solid at night as well, but she couldn't use any of her special powers as such. Another drawback was she had to have a graveyard, ruin, or cursed place to haunt. The place she haunted became her home, and it was there she would respawn. Unlike hero players, she had a special item that anchored her to the location. From inside her dress, she drew out a slender crystal bottle topped by a silver cap. She was allowed to pick her item and spent hours looking through the list. She smiled when she found the small bottle and was allowed to choose its contents, the tears of true love. It was all perfect, a fitting memory to her mother's stories, and she buried the bottle at the base of a grave, marking this graveyard as her haunting ground and home. She would be stronger while inside her haunted place, but only a little at this level. There would be significant advantages at higher levels, and she would be deadly in her chosen haunt. For now, all she wanted was a place nearby to spawn in case she died.   

“I told you that was too strong for us to fight!” a woman's voice yelled. Breanne peaked around the trees to see a woman in white robes and golden hair tapping a foot. A man in simple armor with a sword and shield stepped out of the mausoleum, shrugging at her accusation. “I thought we could take it,” he said.   

“You make me so mad sometimes,” she roared and stomped off as he followed.

She smiled to see the display as recently slain players respawned. It was a strange thing to think of death as something so temporary and uneventful. It was more of an annoyance than anything else, but she was still rather reluctant to try it. Sooner or later, it would happen on its own; then she could learn how to deal with it.   

Her one chore complete, she wandered back to town. There were dozens of shops along the street selling wares of every sort. She wanted to browse inside and buy things, but she lacked the funds. The visitors started players only with the barest of equipment, and a tiny bit of coin. She had enough to rent a room for a week and eat a meal or two. If she wanted more, she would need to adventure or haunt someplace where players would adventure to battle them.   

It was an interesting system the visitors created. Players were either heroes or monsters, and the term was somewhat fluid. Many races like orcs could be both. Some of the classes a player could pick were seen as monstrous classes and carried a certain disdain among other players. Even races or classes that were hero based could build castles or dungeons if the right choices were made. These, too, could be explored by others in search of wealth and experience.

However, the system was designed so the monsters could build lairs in dungeons, caves, or ruins. These monster players had far more options to fill their lairs with traps, beasts, and loot. Brave hero players could then seek their fortunes inside, testing the defenses of the monster's lair, and maybe even facing the monster player in a sort of boss fight. Both parties would earn experience and points to improve. The monster's dungeon would get bigger, and the players more powerful to brave the new depths.  

She wondered if she should have picked a class that could build a dungeon.  She went with a more traditional class that marked her as more of an adventurer. It had skills she thought would benefit the banshee, and besides, there were plenty of dungeons about. She could attach herself to any of them and haunt it, becoming a part of that player's lair. At high enough levels, she could curse a swamp or dark forest and haunt that instead. She looked forward to claiming a small portion of a wild area as her own. She wouldn't be able to modify more than a few basic things, but it would give her an abundant hunting ground.  She looked forward to finding a lonely moor near some towns to haunt like the banshee of her mother's stories, wailing in the night to warn the nearby towns of impending doom.  

A scent caught her attention as she turned the corner to see a tavern. The smell of homemade bread and cheap ale drew her in and brought her threw the door. It had been too long since she'd eaten anything that wasn't cheap and mass-produced. Items like beer and wine were off the list, the home not allowing its inhabitants to drink or smoke.

The inner room was dotted with tables, carved from wood, and polished to a mirror sheen. The walls reminded her of an English cottage, with white plaster and dark oak beams. A dozen people sat around tables, talking boisterously as she made her way inside eager to order a drink.  

“You there,” a silvery voice called out. “Highborn, come and sit with us.”

She turned about to see three elves, two men and a woman sitting around a table. One man wore chain armor and carried as shield decorated in red and white, featuring a stag with three arrows over its body. She guessed he was an autumn elf with reddish-brown hair and a boyish face. He gestured with a hand to come their way, and she glided across the room to bow her head.  

“Come, join us,” he said. “You have the look of a wizard about you.”

“I am a shadow weaver,” Breanne replied with a smile.  

“Ooh,” he woman said with a smile and a hint of sarcasm. “A wielder of dark magic,” Breanne noted that she too was an autumn elf, with long curly yellow hair and copper skin. She had blue lines painted on her face and wore finely crafted mail and plate, polished to a mirror sheen. Over this was a white coat with a green leaf, a symbol of some elven house Breanne was not yet familiar with. She sat leaning back in her chair, legs on the table showing her heeled boots.   

The last elf was the tallest and wore a metal chest plate but had mail everywhere else. Breanne could not place his heritage but suspected he could be highborn too.  He had black gloves on his hands and sat in a chair next to a great spiked club that looked too big to lift. He smiled with a smooth face that showed not the least hint of age, and bid her sit as well.  

“I am Chevin, high cavalier,” the red-haired man said. “This is Eladra, our huntress, and Gorthal, our priest.”  

“Pleased to meet you all,” Breanne said with a bow. “I am Breanne.”

“Please sit,” Chevin bade as he took a chair himself. He waved to the woman working the tavern floor and asked for ale for their new friend.  Breanne gracefully took an empty chair as the three regarded her intently. There was a strange intensity about the women, a sort of sizing up. Breanne felt uncomfortable under gaze but was determined not to show it. Instead, she smiled and looked at the other two, ignoring Eladra altogether.  

“How fortunate we encountered you,” Chevin said with a smile. “We are planning an adventure and could use the assistance of a mage to round our party out.”

“We need a rogue,” Eladra said with a toss of her curly hair. “Or somebody will have to walk ahead to find the traps.”  

“That's Gorthal's job,” Chevin replied with a grin.  

“If you two want healing, you will rethink my place in your party,” Gorthal replied.  

“Then it falls to the new blood,” Eladra said. “She is the youngest member of our group.” She gave Breanne a little smile as if sparring with her to test her worth.

“I haven't agreed to join you,” Breanne said with a firm gaze on Eladra.  “Maybe you should tell me what it is you want me to join you for.”   

Chevin nodded and leaned over the table. “There is a dungeon about five miles outside the village. It is the home of a warlock, and rumor has it's full of traps, treasure, and more. We intend to brave its depths and find our fortunes in gold and jewels. We need somebody with magic for support and to deal with any potential magical threats. For your assistance, you will get an equal share of the spoils,”   

“Assuming she can do an equal share of the work,” Eladra said. “She looks kind of new to me.”

Breanne narrowed her eyes as the annoying woman who smiled back with a wide grin. It was clear she was being tested, and her skill called into question. The problem was Eladra was right, Breanne had just arrived and had never seen combat. She wasn't even sure what to do in battle; after all, she never played these games. The best she could do was create darkness and hurl shadow bolts, hardly a long list of skills. She could always use her wail, but at her level, all that did was cause creatures to panic.  

It was the desire to be young again that drove her into the world, not a lust for adventure. Still, she needed the coin and wasn't about to let Eladra push her about. She sat tall, holding her head high. “I will hold my own,” she replied in a sour voice with a glare Eladra’s way.

“Then it’s settled, we have the perfect group,” Chevin said and raised a mug.

“We still need a rogue,” Eladra reminded. “Or your the one walking ahead.” Chevin tipped his mug back, smiling as he took a sip. Eladra shook her head at him but joined in the drink before taunting him.  “It's your respawn.”  

The next few hours were spent drinking cheap ale and eating a lovely warm bread. Breanne felt so alive to be talking to this group of strangers about going on an adventure. She worried it would go badly, and she might die, but her charm was buried and the haunting set. The worst that could happen now is she would lose any treasure she was carrying, but all she had was the gear she started with anyway. Chevin and Eladra verbally sparred, firing quips back and forth, accusing each other of being the weakest link. He was a charming man with a strong chin and eyes of blue, his smile never leaving his face. He spent some time talking to her as well. Smiling and flirting, as he played his little game. She couldn't believe how much fun it was to be young again and flirted right back.   

When they were suitably fed, the group stood and made their way for the door, Chevin telling Breanne all about the wealth of treasure that awaited them. She trembled as they headed out of town on her first adventure. Surely this couldn't be too hard; after all, they just needed her to cast some spells. The others looked capable and strong. They would be able to deal with any real threat.   

It was so exciting to be here and be doing this. A day ago, she was in the waning hours of her life, too old for dreams of the future. Now she was a young elven woman going on an adventure to earn gold and glory. She hoped for a few levels as well. There were so many powers she would like access to, but they came much later. It would be a dream come true to gain such amazing powers and skills, a magical life in a magical world.  

As they walked, she saw a group of players coming the other way. They were dragging a woman with ropes who begged them not to take her into town. Breanne watched dumbstruck as they passed and saw the woman looked gaunt with eyes full of fear. Her skin was pale white, and her fingers long and sharp. Her head was crowned with black hair wild and disheveled. She wore a white dress that looked regal but bore torn edges as if of great age. There was a blackness to her eyes as if something unnatural were haunting her like a shell.   

“What is going on there?” she asked as the group passed.  

Chevin looked over his shoulder and studied the scene a moment. “Looks like they caught a barrow wight.”

“A barrow wight?” Breanne asked.

“It’s an undead monster,” Gorthal said. “They create mounds of earth filled with subterranean tunnels where they lair and wait for intruders.”

“Why are they dragging her into town?” Breanne asked.

Chevin laughed. “That’s a player. If you drag her far enough from her lair and kill her, she will reset.”

“What?” Breanne asked in shock. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s a monster player,” Gorthal said as if that answered the question sufficiently.

“But wouldn’t it be better to battle her in her lair, and let her respawn?”

“Then she would come back at full power,” Gorthal said. “This way, she has to start over.”  

Breanne shook her head, struggling to believe what she was hearing. “That's horrible! You mean to say this doesn't bother you at all?”  

Gorthal shrugged. “Why should it bother me. She picked a monster class, I didn't force it on her.”  

“But she didn’t pick it to be reset over it,” Breanne replied. “She has just as much right to play as anyone else.”

“Then she should have picked something else!” Gorthal shouted. “Undead players are the worst of them,” he said with a sound like he wanted to spit. “I hope they burn her, so she suffers in her death.”  

“You’re the monster here,” Breanne shot back as Gorthal turned his gaze her way.

“If you want any healing in the dungeon, you had better shut your face,” he growled.  

“I don’t think your girl is going to fit in,” Eladra remarked, glancing back at Breanne. “I told you she was new.”

“She is just asking a question,” Chevin interjected. “No need to get upset.”  

“I am not asking. I am stating that what those people are doing is wrong!” Breanne argued.  

“Breanne,” Chevin interrupted and put his arm over her shoulder. “She's a monster player; she isn't worth the trouble. You will see, this is just how things are, now common, we have a dungeon to raid and treasures to plunder.”  

Breanne looked back at the poor woman being dragged away to have all her progress erased. Something inside tugged at her heart, but fear kept her tongue. It never occurred to her that heroes would see the monster players like that. What if they found out what she was? Would they drag her back in chains to be reset? She looked at the three around her to see the boys showing not a care, but Eladra met her gaze, narrow eyes glaring as if she knew.  

For the next hour, Breanne felt unsettled as they traveled through the pastoral countryside. They passed other players going about their business and even witnessed an event that made Breanne gawk in wonder. A man flew by encased in a transparent bubble, soaring through the air as he stood within. Beside him flew a woman with feathery wings and golden armor talking to him as they passed overhead.  

“I should have been a wizard,” Chevin said.

“That class calls for intelligence,” Eladra mocked. “You would be hard-pressed.” Chevin laughed and glanced at Breanne, who was trying not to appear nervous.  

“Fortunately, we have somebody gifted in that area. Breanne can deal with the magical problems for us.”  

“She should carry a bow,” Eladra said. “All highborn start with skill in it.”  

“Not everybody wants to shoot arrows from the safety of cover,” Chevin mocked. “Some of us prefer to fight face to face like men.”

“Some of us are stupider than the others,” Eladra countered with a smile. Breanne smirked at that remark as Chevin laughed and pressed on.  

A half-hour later and they approached a series of jagged hills, covered in brush and dense trees. There was a path through the forest, and Chevin took the lead with his shield at the ready. Eladra took a silver rod from her waist and held it out. Breanne watched as graceful silver arms grew in each direction until a supple bow rested in her hand. A string of liquid silver formed, and she pulled it back ever so slightly. An arrow formed from thin air shining with a silver light as Eladra searched the surrounding trees.   

“How did you do that?” Breanne asked, fascinated by the bow.

“It's a magical bow made by the silver mist elves. I won it for services rendered,” She held it out to Breanne and bid her take it. “Go ahead, only one gifted with the touch can pull the string.”  

Breanne took the bow from the woman’s hand and held it out. Gently she reached for the string and pulled it back with ease, an arrow forming out of silver light.

“Why can I use it?” Breanne asked as she relaxed her pull.

“You are a highborn elf. Your race has a natural skill in archery and magic. I am surprised you don't have a bow of your own. Just because you chose a magical class doesn't mean you can't make use of your race's talents.”  

“I will have to consider getting one,” Breanne agreed. “Where did you get yours?”

Eladra smiled and leaned over to whisper in Breanne’s ear. “His name is Thammis, and he is a bow crafter in the city or Therris Vorn. I bartered with him to make me one.”

“What did you barter?”  

Eladra smiled with a sultry grin. “Nothing you don't have.”  

Breanne looked at her with a confused expression as she tried to work out that comment. Eladra saw the look and started to laugh, shaking her head. “Were you a prude in your previous life?”

“No, I wasn't, but what does that have to do with?” Breanne stopped as he realized what Eladra had given the bow maker in exchange for a bow. “Ohhhh.”  

Eladra laughed even more and shook her head. “Welcome to New Eden. Now learn to enjoy yourself.”

Breanne smiled back and tried to relax, but visions of the woman dragged away to be reset haunted her mind. She didn't like the idea that these people saw so little value in the monster players. She wondered how many of the heroes felt the same? Surely most didn't agree to such a cruel act.   

“So, is this the cave?” Gorthal asked as they stood outside the tunnel.   

“I am sure this is it,” Chevin said. “That last group of adventurers said they explored two levels.”

“And how do they know a warlock lives here?” Eladra asked.

“He is why they are no longer exploring it,” Chevin replied with a smile. “He killed them all. They say they dropped hundreds of coins where they died. Enough to fill all our bags twice.”

“Assuming we can beat this warlock ourselves,” Eladra pointed out.

Chevin smiled and lifted his shield. “We can handle this. The first group was only two players. One warlock against four adventurers shouldn’t be a problem.”

Eladra shrugged and gazed inside as Chevin drew his sword and stepped forward. Gorthal followed close behind with his club in both hands. Breanne went to follow, but Eladra pulled her to the side and looked her in the eyes.   

“I know new blood when I see it. Have you even been in a dungeon yet?” she asked.

Breanne shook her head, feeling deeply unsettled as the men advanced down the tunnel.  

“Alright, you're a spell caster, so stay by me and fire from long range. If the boys do their job well enough, we won't even get a scratch. If they don't, we have a head start on running.” She smiled at this last comment and followed the boys in, her fingers on her bowstring.   

Breanne walked just behind feeling more nervous than she'd ever felt in her life. Her first dungeon should have been exciting, but her mind kept thinking of her comrade's attitudes toward the wight. She would have to be careful not to reveal what she was, no matter how useful her banshee powers would be. She would endure this dungeon, using only her shadow weaver powers. When they were complete, she would part ways and decide what to do about the rest. The entrance faded, and the cave opened up ahead, there was no going back now.