Read Lost Lands: The Game - Atlantis Online
Authors: A.E. McCullough
Lost Lands: The Game - Atlantis
This novel is dedicated to Irl and Sollie Stambaugh.
I have had the pleasure and privilege to meet and chat with people from all over the world and yet, rarely do I ever get to know their real names. As an avid gamer, I have developed friendships with people that I only see during my trips into cyberspace. However, there are a few that become more than their avatars or faceless voices over chat channels. They become true friends. Irl and Sollie were in this last category.
Sollie was an early supporter of my writings and always
encouraged me to keep plugging away at the keyboard. She even got to read some of the earliest drafts of this novel. Unfortunately, she passed from this life and into the next before I had the chance to complete
Lost Lands.
I have lost touch with Irl over the years but their friendship and kind words of encouragement still warm my heart. Nonetheless,
this novel is for you two.
It would be a great injustice not to acknowledge and thank my test readers. DJ, Alex and Venus have been reading my work and giving me insights ever since my 2
nd
novel.
Although, with this novel came a new test reader – Jeff – who fell in love with the concept of this novel even as I was writing it. Jeff would hound me to get another chapter written just so he could proofread it.
Thanks guys. Your support, insights, edits and friendship mean the world to me.
Guild:
Keepers of the Flame
- Taote ‘Tao’ Ching – Human Samurai –
Patrick ‘Mac’ MacIntyre - Gamble
Giantbane – Dwarven Skald – Marvin - Bjǿrn
Bluebear – Norse Berserker – Earl Stamper - Moira
Ravenclaw – Wood Elf Druid – Kaslene Stamper - Mathias
Strongbow – Half Elf Archer – Matthew - Pixi Firewings –
Faerie Wizard – Whitney - Roland
Darkslayer – Human Paladin – Steve
Guild:
Society of Night
- Arieal
De’Morte – Dark Elf Necromancer – Annie - Cozad – Human Dreadknight – Edward
- Tariq al’Nasir al’Rafiq – Human Hashashin -- Brandon
Other Known Outlanders
- Callistra – Vampyre Witch –
Cassandra MacIntyre - Kastle
Rook – Human Priest – Richard - Jagoda
Wartooth – Human Gladiator – Leon - Aaliyah
– Human Sha’ir – Ashley - Marrok
– Human Knight – John - Andraste – Elf Warden
– Amanda - Sartael – Human Wizard – Alex
- Sanguine Bolt – Human Wizard – Wayne
- Wynn – Half-Elf
Nightshade – DECEASED - Argos – Human
Centurion – DECEASED - Albiona
– Wood Elf Druid – DECEASED - Geirolf
– Norse Berserker – DECEASED - Bertram
– Dark Elf Warlock – DECEASED - Kano
– Human Ninja – MISSING IN ACTION - Amerisky – High Elf Wizard
– MISSING IN ACTION
A lone figure slowly paced back and forth in the dark, featureless room.
Actually, that was incorrect. There were two unusual features about the room. The most obvious was the huge silver mirror which dominated one wall and the fact that there was no visible entrance or exit from the room. No doors or windows, just the mirror.
Unconsciously, the lone occupant stretched his white feathered wings and gave them a small flap. He longed to fly through the open skies once more. He momentarily wondered how long it had been since he
had been incarcerated. While his back was to the mirror, it shimmered and an image appeared on its silvery surface.
“Hello brother.”
Without turning, the prisoner asked, “Is it time again?”
“Yes. Another group is about to attempt the trial.”
Grigoris turned to the mirror and waved his hand. The image shifted to depict sixteen people sitting in front of their computer monitors all across the globe. He even noted that the group contained a husband and wife team, a teenager and one that radiated sorrow and loss. It was on this last one that the trapped seraph focused his limited powers on. There was something familiar about him. Something…
The images shifted once more to show the red-skinned face of his brother. “You do realize that if you just admitted defeat, I would free you. None of your so-called champions have even come close to accomplishing their quest.”
Grigoris grinned. “I like my chances with this group. Even so, my other champions are still in play. They are just waiting for the right leader to come along.”
“Ah brother
, how can we be siblings? You still believe in the goodness of man while I believe in their weaknesses, especially greed. They will always fail.”
Grigoris shook his head.
“Nay brother, I have faith in mankind. Every fire needs a spark and every rebellion needs a leader. Just wait, you will choose one soon that will upset this little game of yours and make a complete mockery of it.”
“We shall see brother, we shall see.”
Once more the image of his sibling faded to be replaced by a faraway land where his future champions were doing nothing more than playing a harmless game. Completely unaware of what their future held. Grigoris could do nothing to aid them, except watch and pray.
Patrick
MacIntyre, known as Mac to his friends, stared at his twenty-seven inch monitor and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee and grimaced. Pressing the button on his keyboard which activated the microphone on his computer he said, “One of the things I hate most about these raids is not having time for a kitchen run.”
Mac
heard a few of his online friends laugh over their guild’s voice-chat channel. Onscreen, Mac watched as Earl’s avatar Bjǿrn turned to face his avatar. The towering Norseman was bare-chested and wore a blue tartan kilt with his upper right arm covered in ornate plate armor while his left was heavily tattooed with blue glyphs.
Bjǿrn
rested his huge claymore over one shoulder when he spoke. “Mac, you need to plan ahead. You know these things take time.”
Mac had
always thought that Earl’s deep baritone voice matched his onscreen image perfectly. Personally, he had chosen to play a samurai named Taote Ching and had outfitted him in the traditional Japanese-style armor that was crimson red with highlights of black. This was his main avatar since he began playing
Lost Lands
. Even after three years of gaming, Mac was still impressed with the game’s graphics. From the flickering shadows cast by their torchlight on the rough stone walls to the echoing sounds of dripping water in the darkness,
Lost Lands
did it’s best to fully immerse the player into the game. It had been the premier MMORPG (Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game) for the last three years running and deserved every award it had won. The interface was easy to learn but challenging to master.
Since Mac was
acting as the rear guard, he panned the view of his avatar around the passageway to make certain that no enemies were sneaking up behind them as he keyed his microphone. “I know, I know, next time I’ll pack a thermos.”
Whitney
’s laughter echoed over the chat channel as her faerie wizard mimicked the laugh out loud emote, a pre-designated action for the game avatars. In this case, her faerie bent over laughing and slapped her knees. However when Whitney spoke, her British accent was readily apparent. “You say that every week but me mum would suggest tea instead of that coffee you Yanks drink.”
Mac was about to respond with a snide remark
on their ongoing argument over the virtues of coffee versus tea when Arieal’s voice came over the raid voice-chat. “Keepers…estimate thirty seconds till entry.”
Turning serious
, Mac keyed up the raid channel. “Roger that Society…breach in thirty seconds...mark,” and started a countdown timer which would be visible to all sixteen members of the raid and watched as the rest of his group moved into position.
Onscreen
, Bjǿrn moved to stand behind one of guild’s members and Earl slipped back into the role-playing aspect of the game as he said, “Alright dwarf, the Society of Night is about to make entry. Time for you to earn your keep.”
“Shh…this isn’t as easy as you might think
,” responded Marvin. The dwarf was a skald, a hybrid class of thief and mage from Norse mythology. Marvin was hard at work trying to pick the lock of the door. He worked through the controls on his keyboard which allowed his avatar to pick locks. It was a fine balance of timing, reactions and guesswork but after three years of gaming, Marvin nearly had the lockpicking skill down to a science.
Mac glanced once more at the passageway behind
them, it was still empty. Manipulating the keyboard controls on his computer, he turned his avatar back to the door and prepared to enter the final room of the Tomb of Immortality.
As a guild, t
hey had been trying to raid this particular dungeon for over six months. The problem was that the entry took a combined effort of two full groups of eight; one group for the followers of Law and one for the minions of Chaos. Since this was a role-playing server, many times getting the two factions to work together was more difficult than the actual quest. Mac’s late wife Cassandra had purposefully created a witch four months earlier to give their guild, the Keepers of the Flame, a chance at completing this particular dungeon. She had been grinding out experience in an effort to advance her newest avatar to a high enough level to allow the when a fire gutted their home and claimed her life. Mac had been at work that night and had come home to fire trucks and broken dreams.
Glancing up from his monitor,
he stared at the only picture of his wife to survive the fire. It was of their wedding day. They were standing in front of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, full of smiles. It was a wondrous day and a great memory. Feeling the clutches of despair and sadness on his heart, Mac turned his attention back to the game.
The game.
Lost Lands
had been his lifeline since the fire. Work seemed tedious. Food was tasteless. Only when he immersed himself in the game did he truly feel alive. After digging out whatever was salvageable from the fire, he’d rented a cheap apartment, bought some old furniture and a brand new high powered computer. Now he lived for the game and played almost every waking minute that he wasn’t at work.
It was during th
e last month when Mac had ran into Arieal while working on another quest. Even though she was a dark elf necromancer, an evil wizard who summoned undead minions to serve her bidding, they had paired up and hunted together. Over the preceding weeks, they had adventured together a few times and a friendship had formed. At some point in their hunting, the subject of uncompleted dungeons had come up and they discovered that neither of their guilds had been able to complete this particular quest. It had taken some juggling of schedules but they had finally been able to arrange this raid between their two guilds.
Mac watched the countdown timer in the upper
right-hand corner of his monitor. Both groups were supposed to breach the door on the count of zero. With seven seconds to go, he glanced at his team once more and noted with pride that everyone was ready and knew their roles.
Gamble
would push open the door and step out of the way of the tanks before slipping into the shadows to move behind enemy lines. He would backstab tough opponents or alert the group about wandering enemies – commonly referred to as ‘adds’ or ‘mobs.’ The tanks, heavily armored warriors, would rush inside the room and engage whatever mobs confronted them. Bjǿrn would lead the charge flanked by Roland the paladin and Marrok the knight. Mathias the archer and Pixi the wizard would engage targets from a distance, raining death and destruction on all foes. Since Moira was a druid, she would pull up the rear casting her healing spells on injured group members or using her command of nature to entangle rushing mobs. Which left Mac’s avatar Tao to act as a free safety, going wherever he was needed the most, adding the weight of his bow or swords to whatever needed to be done. Mac’s guild, the Keepers of the Flame, had other members but these eight were the core members and had gamed together for the better part of two years. Their entry plan had been developed through trial and error and it worked well for them.
Mac had often wondered how other guilds breached rooms. The few times
he had attempted a serious dungeon in a PUG or ‘pick-up group’ – a group consisting of random gamers working together toward the completion of a certain dungeon, they had all been a joke. Mac soon realized it wasn’t so much a lack of knowledge of the game but a lack of teamwork since most ended in a party-wipe, when everyone dies. Of course, Mac knew going into them that PUGs typically had a low success rate but sometimes that was the only way a gamer could complete a certain dungeon.
Mac
looked up from his computer monitor for a moment and glanced at the clock on his desk. It was just past midnight. Wiping the sweat from his palms, he stretched his back. It was amazing that a game could elicit such a response, but between the thrills of the unknown and the intense graphics,
Lost Lands
sucked you into the game.
Mac placed his hands back on the keyboard just as the timer flashed
three…two…one….zero.
As
his guild breeched the door, Mac scanned the room.
It was a large circular chamber, divided into two halves; one black and one white
. Kind of like a large yin-yang symbol with a dark hole in the direct center. They were standing on the white half, while the members of the Society could be seen on the opposite side. A number of black cloaked monsters were clustered around a glowing black orb centered on the white area.
The Keepers’ tanks had already engaged the leading edge of the monsters.
Bjǿrn’s huge claymore cleaved the monsters in two with every strike. Roland and Marrok’s swords weren’t as deadly but they efficiently hacked the monsters apart. Mathias’s arrows and Pixi’s firebolts never missed a monster but as quick as one fell, two spawned to take their place. Mac instinctively knew that in a battle of attrition, the monsters would win. They were only seconds into the battle and all three tanks were injured and threatening to be overwhelmed by the increasing numbers of the monsters. A quick glance at their counterparts told a similar fate on the opposite side of the room.
Arieal
’s voice came over the raid channel. “This isn’t working. Two of my team are already down.”
Mat
thew keyed into the conversation. “They’re spawning faster than we can kill them.”
Mac yelled.
“That’s it! Don’t kill them.”
“What!” echoed
several voices across the raid chat-channel.
“Two spawn for every one that you kill, so stop killing them
. Go for crippling attacks.”
“You’re the boss
,” replied Matthew as he shifted his avatar’s aim lower on the rushing monster and fired again. The barbed arrow flew true and punched through the leg of the monster, dropping it. Instead of disappearing and two spawning to replace it, the injured monster crawled about the floor slowing the progression of those around it.
Earl
grunted. “I’ll be damned…I’m on it.”
All throughout the room, both groups changed their tactics and the increasing number of monsters slowed. They were still outnumbered five to one but
they weren’t about to be overwhelmed any longer. Since the wounding action bought them a few minutes of breathing room, Pixi dropped back to stand with Moira and the two began to conserve their power. Spellcasters have a limited amount of power for their magic and constant casting drained it quickly.
Marvin
broke into the conversation. “Tao, I’m near the orb and there is something odd about it.”
Mac switched the conversation over to the raid channel so the Society
of Night members could hear it as he replied. “What ’ya got skald?”
“The orb isn’t an orb.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is more like a half of an orb.”
“Arieal, do you have anyone near your orb?”
“Let me check,” she responded. A
fter a brief pause she added, “Tariq…one of my assassins is close by and moving to check. Why?”
Mac had a glimmer of an idea
. “If it looks like half an orb as I suspect, I bet the only way to control the spawning of these mobs is to rejoin the two parts.”
“Yes, it looks to be
the white half of a yin-yang symbol,” came a new voice with a slight northern accent on the raid channel. Mac guessed it to be the assassin.
Since Mac was the raid-leader,
the Player Interface on his computer screen showed the statistics of all raid members. The warriors on both sides were down to less than half their starting health and a few were below a quarter. Two members from the Society were knocking at death’s door but the healers were doing their best to keep them alive. Unfortunately, every caster was near critical levels on power but thankfully no deaths…yet. They would have to do something and fast.
Keying
up the raid channel Mac ordered, “Gamble and Tariq…grab the orbs and move toward the center of the room as fast as you can. All warriors break off from your current target to cover your carrier. Casters be ready to throw your spells where needed.”
Putting
actions to words, Mac moved his avatar forward while using his samurai skills to dodge or parry oncoming attacks but not fully engaging the monsters until he was beside the dwarven rogue. “Let’s roll, mate.”
Marvin had his avatar Gamble
grab the orb and grimaced as he took damage with each pulse of the orb. “On your six, old man!”
Everyone heard Mac’s laughter over guild chat. The inside joke was that Marvin was actually two years
his senior but since Mac always seemed to slide into the leadership role, the guildies had taken to calling him ‘the old man.’ Seeing the monsters beginning to swarm after them, Mac used one of his avatar’s special abilities called whirlwind, a magical enhancement which would temporarily increase his weapon speed and began slicing and dicing the monsters’ arms as they attacked.
Mac
glanced at the raid display on his interface.
B
oth Gamble and Tariq were taking constant damage and it seemed that the closer they got to the center of the room, the more damage they took. Glancing back at the distance left to travel, Mac knew the dwarf didn’t have enough health left to carry it to the end and keyed the raid chat. “Arieal, they aren’t going to make it without help.”