HTN 3-2 A rainy day

Heather turned the page to match the rune she was looking at with the key.  The sun had long ago set filling the room with dark corners. Candles burned nearby, casting a flickering light that did little to help. None of it mattered to Heather, who long ago cast her spell of ghostly sight. Now she read the text easily as if under a soft light.

Breanne worked with her, offering advice and helping her translate. After hours of work, she was still on the second page, trying to make sense of the diagram.  

From what she could tell, it was showing her how a being existed in four states. What those states were and how why they were important was still a mystery. These four states were encased in a higher state known as orvexis. This higher state was then part of three states that made up the verum spatium.  

Breanne paced the room behind her, trying to puzzle out what all that meant while Heather translated more. As they struggled to make sense of it, the need for pen and paper to make notes became apparent. Breanne said such things could be bought in any major city. Heather wondered if Moon had some in the town hall, and if so, would she have bothered to take it.  

She decided the answer to that question was no. All she was concerned with at the time was stealing the food and as many outfits as she could carry, or she could get the others to carry. She wondered if she mistreated the others, especially Frank. Time and again, she went to Frank to deal with her problems. No matter what happened, Frank always stood by her and went forward even when she wouldn't.  

She pondered the notion that he should have played a noble knight of some kind. He certainly seemed to have the character for it. She tapped the page with her finger as her mind wandered and saw Frank in shining plate.

“Are you stuck?” Breanne asked, bringing her back to reality, or the closest thing to it.

“No,” Heather said with a yawn. “Just bored. This takes a long time, and even when I can read the words, I don't know what they mean.”  

“It will probably make more sense when you get further in,” Breanne said.

“It would be a lot faster if I could make notes,” Heather argued. Or at least make a copy of the key on a separate paper. Then I won't have to flip pages to compare them.”  

“Have you considered that one of your tower upgrades might come with paper?” Breanne asked.

Heather sat back and turned in her chair to look at the woman.

“Now you think of that,” she said with a sigh. She looked down at her arm and rubbed at her tattoo, bringing the holographic display to life. Breanne looked over her shoulder as she went to the button with her tower options and started to look through rooms.  

“Try the library,” Breanne suggested.  

Heather tapped at it and then held her arm high so they could look through the display at the room around them. While looking through the screen, they could see the room as it would look if it was a library.  As Heather slowly panned around, they studied the image, and Breanne frowned.  

“It certainly has a lot of books, but no paper to write on,” she said.

“Maybe there is some in the workshop,” Heather suggested as she tapped away. Again thy studied the image and looked about the room to see tables and intricate tools but nothing that looked like paper.

“There must be something,” Breanne said as she leaned back “I was told the necromancers had private studies where they did most of their research.”

“Studies?” Heather asked.

Breanne shook her head with a sigh. “I suppose that term isn’t used much in modern dialect. It is an old way of saying the word office.”

Heather nodded and sorted down the list and smiled to find a study. She tapped it up and held out her arm so Breanne could see as well. The wall had a large desk before it with a plush chair. There was a cabinet to the side and a table on the other wall with another chair. There on the desk was a feather resting next to a bottle of black liquid. Beside them was a crisp stack of white paper.  

“That’s it!” Breanne said. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”

“Because we're tired, or at least I am,” Heather said as she looked over the room. She had just enough points to buy the basic layout for a half room. She tapped away, and the room appeared around them, moving the old furniture to any space that wasn't occupied.   

“I will get my skeletons to help me move that old table downstairs,” Heather said as she stretched.  

“You look very tired,” Breanne said.  

“I feel it,” she replied as she looked around for the book. She was almost concerned before she spotted it lying on the floor beside the old table.   

“Why don’t we work on this more tomorrow,” Breanne suggested.

Heather yawned again and covered her mouth until it passed. “You’re welcome to stay and work on it. I know none of you need to sleep.”

“It’s funny how that works,” Breanne said. “While I don’t feel tired specifically, I always think I need to go to bed at night. I guess seventy years of needing to sleep is hard to break.”

“Well, regretfully, I don't have that problem. I slept whenever I could in the real world. Heck, I managed to fall asleep sitting on a rock.”  

“Go to sleep, Heather,” Breanne laughed as she pushed her along to the doorway. “This can all keep until the morning.”

Heather nodded and went through the doorway yawning again. She carelessly through her dress over a chair and flopped onto her tiny bed. She rolled on to her back with an arm over her eyes, wishing for a ceiling fan.  

“I wonder if I could get one of my skeletons to fan me while I sleep?” she pondered as her eyes got heavy. Sleep came on her quickly and pulled her away until the sun was high in the sky the next day.  

Her dreams were strange and full of strange images. She saw her mother waving at her with tears in her eyes. Her brother stood frowning from a wall further back. Behind her was a strange sizzling noise, and a blue glow filled the air. Then she saw an image of a man who looked familiar. He was tall and maybe a little thin but still healthy-looking. He had short brown hair and wore glasses. She watched as he smiled at her and tossed the glasses aside before turning to face the source of the blue glow. Heather turned to look as light filled her eyes, and her name echoed in her head.  

“Heather!” Quinny yelled for the third time.

Heather bolted upright in bed and felt immediately dizzy. She was disappointed to return to the world she wanted to be a  dream. With stiff muscles, she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Her face fell into her hands as she yawned and heard her name again.  

“Heather!”

“What?” she yelled back in annoyance.

“Are you awake?”

Heather pulled two fingers apart so she could look out with one eye and roll it.  

“You know some of us actually need to sleep?” she shouted from her room.

“It’s nearly noon,” Quinny called back.  

Heather sighed and looked at the wall to the clock that wasn't there.  

“Oh right, I forgot I am in a fantasy world that doesn’t have clocks.”

She stood and thought about having the skeletons fill a bath. She decided that would take the rest of the day, and they would probably flood the tower again. Instead, she settled for grabbing a clean dress and heading down. Once at the front door, her bone knight opened it for her without being told. She eyed the silent sentinel and reached up to poke it in the head.  

“Are you thinking on me?” she asked.

The creature stood by silently as if she had said nothing.  

Slowly she nodded her head and stepped into the doorway. Quinny stood in the yard with Breanne as a light rain fell from the sky. Heather hadn't noticed faint tapping echo of the rain. She remembered how much she liked gray, rainy days. She would curl up with a good book and read to the gentle sound. Now that she was aware of it, she listened to it as it fell on her tower.

“Umm, do you plan to get dressed?” Quinny asked.

Heather looked down at her nearly bare body and shrugged.

“I want to wash first.”

“Then come out in the rain,” Quinny suggested.

“I mean with soap and water,” Heather replied. She turned to the nearest skeleton and snapped at it.

“You, take the bucket and go fill it with water from the stream. Then bring it back and set it here,” she said and pointed to a nearby bucket.  

The skeleton didn't reply with anything more than to take the bucket that sat beside the door. It carried it in a straight arm as it walked off in the direction of the stream.  

“That was an awfully complex instruction,” Quinny said. “How come he is following it?”

“I upgraded them,” Heather said. “They are tougher and can do more elaborate things now.”

“The necromancers had skeletons that could play violins,” Breanne said.

“No way,” Quinny laughed. “Heather’s can’t figure out how to open doors.”

“They can now,” Heather said as she looked up at the gray sky. It all seemed rather fitting for a gray sky to hover over the graveyard. It gave the place more of an air of gloom and mystery. She decided to complete the image and held out her hands, speaking to the air as she called up a mist.  

“What did you do that for?” Quinny asked as the whips of white began to curl around the gravestones.   

“I felt like it,” Heather said. “It gives the graveyard more of a spooky feel.”

“It’s really thick,” Quinny said as the clouds grew stronger and obscured vision any deeper than ten feet.

“I used this once when Frank was under attack. I revived his skeletons and used the mist to hide them.”

“The necromancers used mists like this to hide whole regions and even armies. They had areas that were permanently enchanted with such clouds,” Breanne added.  

“Mine only covers the graveyard, and only one that isn't too big,” Heather admitted.   

“For now,” Breanne added. “Your spells will get stronger as you level. Soon you will be able to hide this whole forest and graveyard inside in a mist that will blind and befuddle our enemies.”

“Befuddle?” Quinny laughed.

“Is my vocabulary too out of date for your young ears?”

Quinny shrugged. “I don’t think I have ever heard anyone use befuddle in a sentence before.”

“Would you two like to come inside out of the rain?” Heather asked.

Breanne shook her head. “We are fine; you have your wash and let us know when you want to look at the book again.”  

Heather nodded and looked into the mist curling about the graves.

“Where is Frank?”

“He is in his tunnels making some changes,” Quinny said. “He told us to stay out of them until he was done.”

She nodded and looked to Breanne. “Did you ask him about the tower?”

“I did, but he seemed reluctant to consider it.”

“What about the tower?” Quinny asked.

Breanne turned to address her directly and took on a very commanding presence.  

“I would like to visit that tower you found in the forest. I was curious to see the room with the silver inlays on the floor.”  

“But Frank said no?”  

Breanne shook her head. “He didn’t say no or yes. He just ignored the suggestion and said it was very dangerous.”

“That sounds like Frank,” Heather replied. “He is brave, but he doesn't like to go looking for trouble.”  

“He sounds rather wise,” Breanne said. “But this is important enough to take the risk. Besides, I am sure, with all four of us, the trip will be relatively safe.”  

“We still have stones,” Quinny pointed out.

“Stones?” Breanne asked.

“Frank and Quinny have binding stones buried in the graveyard,” Heather said. “I can make you one just in case.”

“A wise precaution,” Breanne agreed. “Oh, your pet is back.”

Heather looked as the skeleton came out of the fog and deposited the bucket at her feet.  

“I will be done in a few minutes,” she said.

“Take your time; I rather enjoy the rain myself. I would like to listen to it fall for a bit.”  

Heather smiled and snapped for the skeleton again. She decided to have it bring the water up to her tub. She used the tub to catch the water while she longed for a shower.   

“At least it makes a good catch basin,” she sighed as she wished for plumbing again.  

She finished her wash using her remaining water to clean her hair. Then dressed and walked into the new study to once again regard the book. She opted to begin copying the key while she waited for her hair to dry and took up the quill.

“This is one of those old pens you dip in ink,” she said to herself as she opened the bottle.  Carefully she dipped the pen and promptly dripped ink onto the paper.  

“Alright, this isn't as easy as the movies make it. She ignored the blob and started writing in clumsy lettering. She was too light in some spots and too dark in others. When she had the first line done, she looked down at her work and frowned.  

“Who would have thought I would regret not taking a calligraphy class?”  

Reluctantly she set the paper aside and tried again. This time she dipped her pen but bobbed it in the air over the ink before pressing it to paper. She decided to go slowly across the page, but that only resulted in the ink running down and bleeding.   

“I can't believe people managed to write anything with this,” she sighed. She tried again, dipping her pen, but this time decided to write in a smooth, quick pace. This produced the best results, but she struggled with the letters. She had to practice how she would draw them in the air before pressing the pen to the paper. Even then, it didn't always come out the way she hoped.    

She put her arm down over the paper and tried again. She wrote the same ten letters over and over until they started to resemble those in the book. When at last she had a good copy, she moved on to the next row of letters.  She lost track of time as she worked and was only alerted to it by the sudden appearance of Frank.  

“What are you doing?”  

Heather looked up from her fifth page of dense lettering.

“I am practicing how to write these strange letters.”

“Call then runes,” he suggested.

“Letters, runes, it’s all the same,” she said and turned back to her paper.

“Why would you need to practice them?”

“I want to copy the translation key to a separate page so I can compare them more easily,” she said. “What I wouldn’t do for cell phone to take a pic with.”

Frank leaned over her shoulder and looked at the work she had thus far and scratched at his head.

“You look like your getting better.”

She laughed slightly and set her pen down.  

“Have you ever tried to write with one of these?” she asked.

He shook his head silently, and she held it up.  

“Press the point lightly, and it makes scratches, press to hard, and all the ink runs down. Get to much ink, and it drips on the page. You constantly have to dip it back in the inkwell just to write the next letter.”  

“You look like you have the hang of it now.”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess.”

“Have you learned anything from the book yet?”

“Just some of what was on the second page. It looks like a description of a being's connection to something bigger.”  

Frank blinked a lidless eye and made her skin crawl.  

“Will you stop doing that,” she said as she looked away.

“Doing what?”

“Blinking your eyes when you don’t have eyelids. Your eye just goes away and comes back. It’s terrible to see.”

He stood taller and looked down at her with a curious expression.

“Are you alright?”  

She looked around with a toss of her head and nodded.

“You have been on edge ever since we started back from the pizza place. The closer we got to home, the unhappier you became.”  

Heather sighed and looked back at the book.  

“Having the pizza experience made me realize just how many things I miss. I keep daydreaming about being home, and then I wake up back here and feel lost.”  

Frank tapped at his chin with a claw as she looked down at her feet.  

“I suppose I find it hard to appreciate it the way you do,” he said. “I would give anything to be chosen and to have the kind of access you have. To me, you're wasting a gift, but I suppose to you this is no gift at all.”  

“It isn’t that I hate all this, I just wish I could go home and visit or something. I wish there was a way to get a message out and tell my family where I am.”

“Oh, right, you were snatched in the night. They probably have no idea what happened to you.”

Heather nodded and folded her arms.  

“I had a dream about my family last night. My mother was crying, and there a blue light in the background.”  

“That reminds me of when I translated in,” he said.

“Why would my dream remind you of that?”

He hunched down and sat on his heels as his fingers scraped the floor.   

“Some people came out with their families. They were standing at the fence crying in most cases as the person crossed over.”

Heather raised a brow at the image and then shook her head.

“Well, of course they did, a loved one was going away forever,” she said.  

He shrugged and dragged his nails across the floor.  

“Did you want something?” she asked when he had nothing further to say.

“I wanted to talk to you about going to the tower for Breanne.”

“What about it?”

“Do you know why she wants to go so badly?”

Heather shook her head. She honestly didn't know, but then she also didn't care. All she knew was when she described the tower, and Breanne became very interested in it. She asked for details Heather couldn't provide, so she wanted to see it herself.  

“I suppose she is hoping to learn something about what happened.”

“She very specifically wants to see the room with the silver inlays on the floor. The one the book was in.”

“So?”

“So why is she so concerned about that specific room?”

“Are you being distrustful again?” Heather sighed.

“It pays to be cautious,” he replied. “She seems nice and is undead, but she also has a normal form. Anybody who saw her elven form would never know what she is. She could easily have mixed with the living and gone anywhere she wanted. Why did she never go into the dwarven towns on her own?”  

“I don’t know,” Heather replied. “Maybe she didn’t want them to get suspicious.”

He bobbed his head as he thought about it and then shrugged.  

“You're right; I'm probably being paranoid. Maybe we should plan a trip out there when it stops raining.”  

“Why wait so long? Nobody seems to mind the rain.”

“That’s because we are undead and don’t feel the cold,” he replied. “But you will, so we will wait for the rain to stop.”

She looked around the room and then back to Frank, who watched her with his yellow eyes. She noted how his nose was just two little slits, and his mouth was narrow and hideously filled with jagged pointed teeth. His ears were pointed, and tufts of dark hair grew on his head. His rubbery skin was mostly gray with patches of yellow and green that made him appear to be sickly. He wore nothing but a pair of torn pants around his waist that were soiled beyond any effort to wash.  

She wondered why she wasn’t running away screaming. With a hand to her head she walked to one of the narrow windows and looked out over the forest. The forest looked like any other that she had seen on earth. Billowing masses of leaves like green clouds that swayed in the breeze. Beyond the forest was the rolling green of the grasslands and the line that was the road north. The gray backdrop of the stormy sky gave it all a feeling of isolation and emptiness.

“How long does it usually rain for?”

He shrugged. “The rain has been broken several times, and there are different types of storms. I don't think I have seen rain that lasted more than six hours.”  

“It used to rain for days where I lived,” Heather said. “It would start like this, as a gentle drizzle and go on all day. Sometimes it would let up for a little, but the sky would always be overcast, and the rain would start again.”  

“Where did you used to live?”

“Does it matter?” she asked as she shook her head.  She reached out the slit that was the window and cupped her hand to catch some of the falling drops.  

“It feels so real,” she said as she pulled her hand back in.

“It is real for those of us inside the world,” he said.

“None of this is real, Frank,” she said as she turned around to regard him.  

“I thought you were getting better,” he said as his shoulders sank.

She sighed and crossed her arms. “I am better, but I am not content. No matter what happens, I will never be a player here.”  

“Then, what are you?”  

“A prisoner,” she said with a firm tone. “A prisoner trapped in a world that I wanted nothing to do with.”

“What would make this appealing for you?” he asked.

“Emails, coffee, tickets to a movie, and a hot shower,” she said.  

He scratched at the top of his head as she rattled off the list. Slowly he looked about the room and then looked up at her.  

“So, none of this will ever make you happy?”

“I don’t like fantasy, or games, or small beds. This world is everything I don’t want and more.”

“You don’t belong here,” Frank said. “The pizza made you better, but it isn’t enough to make you happy.”

“How can I be happy? It makes perfect sense why you, Quinny, and Breanne are happy. This world is a dream come true and gave you all something you deeply wanted. I deeply want all of this to be a dream. I want to wake up and be done with this mess.”

“But you were given so many gifts,” he said. “People would love to have what you have.”

Heather let out a slight chuckle. “What they give me doesn't make up for the fact that I have been abducted against my will and sentenced to life in prison. No matter how many things they give me inside the prison, it is still a prison. There is nothing here I want except a way out.”  

“You are essentially a goddess,” he said. “You have special privileges, power, and eternal life.”

“Great, so I have eternal life in prison,” she said with a head shake.  

“I love it here, but I understand you don’t. I wish there was a way I could send you home.”

Heather nodded gestured to the book. “I am hoping it has an answer to that. I was thinking the other day, what if the necromancers didn’t respawn because they got out.”

Frank regarded the book with a wary expression. “You mean they found a way out?”

“It’s just a theory,” Heather said. “I have absolutely nothing to support it.”

“Well, I hope it does have the secret of how to get out. You're right, this place is more of a prison for you, and it isn't right you are stuck here. I hope you get out, but I will miss you.”  

Heather looked to him with heavy brows as he played with his fingers in a nervous gesture.  

She smiled and looked back to the book. “This is silly to waste time thinking about. For all we know, they didn't get out. Even if they did, it probably isn't in the book.”  

“Maybe,” Frank said. “But you do need to look. If there is anything in there that can make this life more tolerable, you need to try.”  

“Thank you, Frank,” she said with a smile. ‘Quinny is right; you do make me feel better.”  

He shrugged. “I just think people should do what makes them happy.”

She nodded and ran a hand over the page with the diagrams. With a sigh, she decided it could wait till later, and turned on Frank with a gentle smile.   

“Let’s go explore the forest of something,” she said.

“Better the forest than the graveyard, I can hardly see through your fog.”

Heather laughed and led the way down. The rain was still fell in a soft drizzle and carried with it a damp scent. The fog was thick, but she could see the stones and quickly made her way to the forest edge where Breanne and Quinny were talking.  

“Finally,” Quinny said as Heather arrived. “You sleep all day.”

“If I can,” Heather replied with a toss of her head.  

“Get under the trees before you catch your death,” Breanne said.

“Why? She will just respawn,” Quinny added.

Heather moved under the trees, and slowly they began to walk the path.  

“So, where are we going? Quinny asked.  

“Just to the road,” Heather said. “I want to see if the goblins left me any apples.”

“The goblins leave you apples?” Breanne asked.

Heather smiled and then explained the encounter with the goblins and the new relationship she had with them.  

“So the goblins came to your rescue,” Breanne said. “And you wonder what your purpose is here.”

“That was all accidental,” Heather said. “I wasn’t trying to earn the goblins trust.”

“Accidental or not, you have it. You are very accomplished for a woman who doesn't want to be here. You have already had a distinct influence on the world.”  

Heather shrugged and followed around the bend that went past the open graves. Several skeletons milled about as always, and they watched with emotionless stares as the group went by.  

As they walked, Frank filled Breanne in on what happened after the goblins. He explained Moon and the battle at the town.  

“So, this Moon knows what you are?” Breanne said, going back to the story.  

“So do a few others,” Frank pointed out.

“Unfortunate,” Breanne said. “We may need a plan to flee.”

“Flee from what?” Quinny said. “All they can do is reset us.”

“US,” Breanne said. “But they will drag Heather to a spawn and kill her over and over until she changes.”

“We learned about that from Moon,” Frank said.

“It's a horrible process,” Breanne said. “Because they kill you in the spawn, you always come back in that specific spawn. So they sit right there waiting for you. Before you even open your eyes, they plunge another sword through your chest.”  

“You talk about it like you saw it,” Quinny said.

“I did see it,” Breanne remarked. “Just one minor necromancer. He was a good friend, and I followed to try and save him. They had to kill him twenty times before he got the option to reset. He chose a normal wizard, but he was never the same again. The experience made him hate other players and fled deep into the north.”  

“I would hate them too if they did that me,” Heather said.

“I was hidden in the shadows watching from afar. I had hoped I could save him, but there were so many paladins I wouldn't have lasted a second.”  

“What is the big deal about a paladin?” Heather asked. “They are just knights.”

“Ha!” Quinny laughed. “They are practically the opposite of undead.”

Heather looked at her with a raised brow as Frank elaborated.

“I told you before they have special powers called holy might. Most of their powers make them excellent in combat, but they have an assortment of abilities that specifically affect the undead or fiends.”  

“They can cause undead to burst into flames,” Breanne said. “Or call down beams of light that turn them to ash.”  

“And they are resistant to undead attacks,” Quinny added. “Franks ghoul touch won't harm them.”  

“Really?” Heather asked in surprise.  

“They are consummate undead slayers,” Breanne said.  

“I didn’t realize,” Heather remarked. “Is this why King Kevin formed his army out of them to battle the necromancer kings?”

“Indeed,” Breanne said. “He used plenty of other classes, but his main force was the paladins.”  

“They can heal themselves or others,” Frank said. “And they have a blessing that makes others better in combat.”  

“They sound really powerful,” Heather said as she wondered if she should have picked paladin.

“They are powerful, but that power is magnified if they are fighting the undead or the fiends.”

“I'm sorry, what is a fiend?”  

“The demon, devil, or Tarrisu races,” Breanne said.

“Demons and devils are the same things,” Heather pointed out.  

“No, they aren't,” Frank said. “And never say that to a demon or a devil player.”  

“So, what is a Tarrisu?” Heather asked.   

“It’s hard to explain,” Frank said. “There are three varieties of Angelics and three branches of fiends. They kind of counterbalance each other. The devils will obey laws and keep their word, but they always try to twist it. The demons don’t know what a law is and lie constantly. The Tarrisu are opportunistic and greedy, but so long as you make your dealings with them clear, they can usually be trusted.”  

“That really didn’t explain anything,” Heather said.

“Just never accuse any of them of being the wrong type,” Frank said. “It is considered a huge insult.”

Heather shrugged as the road came into view.

They all stopped dead in their tracks and looked in confusion down the road.

“Umm, when did that get there?” Quinny asked.