Brokenthorn Lumber INC

[Taskmienster]

Without taking a seat, the hacker indulged the elderly man with the story. It was the second time he had told it in two days, and he felt like he was making it more and more exciting every time. In the story he told he fought off three men with his bare hands while Travis took out another two without breaking a sweat. Of course the truth had been quite different, pitting the man and his lost companion against odds that he had not wanted to face. Had it not been for clever guile and a tactfully sound mind the two of them would have been buried next to the mill that had been illegally created in the first place. “And so we came here, and have not received even close the compensation that I thought we’d get.”

Ethan finished with a sly smirk and a nod. Money was the heart that pounded and made the world go round, much less boosted the economy and worked in the favor of any nations engaged in trade. He wanted a proper reward, no small sack of meaningless gold good for only a night or two at some slum of an inn. He slowly stroked the back of the couch as he moved around it and closer to the Baron. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, of course.”

“No need to be overly cautious,” the man said as he slowly shifted his way into the room. He turned his blank expression from Ethan to Miehm and back. “It seems that you have been through quite a bit since coming to our normally pleasant little island. Often the adventures and intrigues that come to find visitors are harmless and rather pleasing to those not accustomed to Althanas’ interesting ways.”

Lars stopped his approach suddenly. The man had said not accustomed the ‘Althanas’ ways, not Scara Brae, or any other country. It sounded like he was reciting words as if they were coming from someone else’s, something pre-recorded. Though spoken in a soft way, they were empty words coming from an empty mind. The fear that gripped the hacker though, more than anything, was the words that were being said more so than the way they were spoken. “Althanas’ interesting ways?” Lars questioned as he let his arm hang to either side of him. The mechanical sheaths up either arm were loaded and full, waiting to be used. “Don’t you mean the ways of Scara Brae?”

“Colin, you tend to get in over your head far too quickly.” Colin, it was the second time in less than twenty four hours that the man had heard his real name. The Baron closed his eyes and smiled, saying no more. Ethan, on the other hand, could feel the very real grasp of the administration of Althanas closing around him. In the inn, when Travis and he had first arrived at the town, the dark man with the empty eyes had said his name. It was that same voice that he felt behind the Baron’s words. “We come; we come, day or night. The wheel spins and you are a broken spoke, slowing it all down and eventually going to make it all break.”

“Come out and put your puppet away,” Lars spat through clenched teeth. The Baron was being used, like a marionette he was the main actor in a show where he had no control over what he did. Strings were connected to mind and body, created by magic from the sick man. His every thought and whim was transmitted through his toy Baron. “I know that you are probably part of the group… hunting me,” the man continued. He had wanted to say part of the administration, but did not want to have to explain anything to Miehm. “Come out and let me beat the shit out of you.”

“So rude… so blunt…” Through the open door the man stepped out, his wild black eyes empty and dark. In his hand he held a black mace, the head of which was inscribed with the scourges call sign. If Lars could guess anything it was that the man was behind the lack of the queen, and the control of the Baron. For what purpose would an administrator of Althanas, the backbone of the virtual reality community, have for controlling the flow of the island nation though? “Miehm, you were not expected… you spun from another wheel, another world, and your reality is not mine.”

[Miehm]

"I'm ok with that. Whatever the hell it means." I propelled myself away from the pillar and towards the Baron. I hadn't pulled either of my fighting knives yet, but my right hand flicked, and a throwing knife went spinning across the room, towards the newcomer. I planned to pummel the older man into unconsciousness, and I was counting on Ethan to occupy the other man's attention long enough for me to better our chances of victory.

My left hand drew back as I reached the Baron, and a swift left cross brought the older man to his knees. "Jesus..." My hand hurt like hell, and I immediately reconsidered the wisdom of punching someone without my knuckle dusters. "Fuck it." My knee drove up into the tottering Baron's face, and he slammed to the floor, at least momentarily immobilized by the brutal treatment.

"Ethan! Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!" The Baron was down, but I could see guards streaming down the hallway towards us, and we'd be overwhelmed fast if we didn't do something. I pivoted on my left foot and went straight for the newcomer, my bowie coming out from behind my back, as my hand scrabbled for the clasp on my knife hilt, trying to release it from its sheath and bring it in to play as fast as possible.

[Taskmienster]

The unnatural entity that stood before the two adventurers was an amalgamation of dark magic and what would have once been a handsome man. His servitude to the Scourge, as well as whatever foul magic that he commanded had taken their toll on him. At the inn Lars hadn’t taken full notice of him, counting him amongst the lazy vagabonds that roamed the streets of the capital city. Except for the strange words he haphazardly threw about he had been forced to the back of the hacker’s mind. For the first time his true, devious appearance was in full view; Lars felt as though he was going to grow sick from viewing the spectacle. “I know! I know! Fucking deal with the guards!”

Miehm was in a panic it seemed, though so was Ethan. His primary target was the man with the mace, despite the number of soldiers that streamed through the doors. Each one was lightly armored, barely looked like they were meant to do actual battle. A leather jerkin and leather bracers adorned the majority, only a few here and there that wore steel scales instead. Not one between the groups carried a shield, not one carried a ranged weapon of any sort, and they were an almost perfect mix of swords and halberds. In such close quarters the duo that wielded daggers held a small advantage.

The first soldier in the slowly budding group charged at Ethan, leveling his sword and thrusting as hard as he could. With reflexes and speed nearly doubled what was the average, the hacker side stepped and spun along the blade. He could feel the sudden shift of the momentum of the weapon, attempting to cut him in half instead, but he was already past the center of the sword. It pushed into his leather jacket but went no further. Lars put the man in a sudden head-lock and half spun away from an outstretched halberd. As the pole arm met an ally the hacker pushed as hard as his strength augmentation would allow. The unprotected head of the guard met with the firm orb of the incomplete world.

Ethan let the man slump to the ground as the dented globe spun round and round. Two daggers fell from either sleeve and were almost instantly released, neither blade missing the mark at so close a proximity. The edges of steel plunged into the upper thigh of the halberdier and another like him, and both fell clinging to their wounds. He didn’t want to kill anyone, in case they were doing what they were according to the whims of the dark man alone. It was not their fault that they were following their mind controlled directions, and the blood of half a dozen soldiers of the queen was the last thing he wanted to explain if he escaped the room alive.

“Fucking pawns!

Ethan side stepped another thrust and redirected the wicked head of the polearm into the back of the couch. Before it could be removed Ethan tossed another dagger, this one also digging deep into the tensed thigh. Even as he fell more soldiers flooded past the mace wielder and scourge mage. He was trying to force a wall of drawn swords to keep him protected from the distance of the dagger throwing hacker. The tactic was working, and with every thrust of a new blade Lars saw his opening growing further and further away. Instead of actively trying to remove people he was forced into a state of defense, using the heavy globe as a spur-of-the-moment shield.

[Miehm]

The first guard never saw it coming. My knuckles sunk deep into his kidney, and he dropped like a stone, where a well placed boot to the knee immobilized him. A second guard fell to a severed hamstring, and a third lost the tendons in his wrist to a slash from behind. Then they were on me. At least five guards, two of them with halberds, backed be away from Ethan, and away from our mutual ability to cover each others backs.

A sword came at my face, and I caught it on my knuckles, pushing it out wide, and driving my spike through his wrist, crippling another opponent. A heavy weight struck me in the side, driving the air out of my lungs, and I realized that the swords were either blunted, or just horribly maintained.

I spun to the side and broke the mans leg with a swift kick to the knee, when a halberd caught me in the leg. It was poorly swung, but the blade was sharp and heavy, and it sliced through jeans and skin like they were nothing, leaving a long gash nearly half an inch deep on my right thigh.

"Damnit Ethan, I can't keep this up forever." I stepped inside the arc of the Halberdiers weapon, and smashed his face into a bloody ruin with three rapidfire jabs. Two more guards stood in front of me, but more were coming up the hall, rapidly, and I made a possibly fateful choice. I charged the swordsman, tripping the remaining halberdier as I passed by, and used my weight and momentum to push him back into the doorway.

From the doorway I could hold them almost indefinitely, and as long as Ethan could make short work of their master, we might survive this fight.

[Taskmienster]

A lackluster sword swing by one of the many empty faces barely caught the edge of the hackers arm. He spun to the opposite side of the globe and put a clenched fist in the face of the closest guard. The man’s broken nose erupted like a faucet, blood pouring to his open mouth and down his chin. Another quick dodge of an incoming blade and the cornered man threw another fist into the bloodied nose soldier, doubling him over. The injured mans arms waved wildly as he lost his balance. The training of his fellow guards kicked in and swords and halberds were lifted and moved aside so as not to puncture one of their own. Finally, Lars was given a short reprieve. Instead of having to fight like a caged and singled out animal he was allotted just enough time to retaliate with a true show of power.

The rush that flowed through him made his hair stand on end, his arms tense, and a cocky smile light his face. Even as the opponent recovered he could feel the pure power of his hacked body double, and it was a sensation that he adored. His empty hands grabbed the bronze edge the atlas was contained in, the cool metal feeling as if it was almost frostbit compared to his sweaty palms. A summoned, immediate fit of rage recklessly spurred Ethan’s movements, and within a second the artifact of old was sailing through the air.

None of the soldiers could back away or dodge the incoming spur-of-the-moment missile. It struck the first man, the poor bloodied nose soldier from moments before, before carrying on. They fell like bowling pins. The hacker almost yelled strike, just for the pure enjoyment of it, but kept his thoughts away from distraction. There was no time to lose.

Time slowed to a screeching halt as he employed one of his most powerful hacks. The line of condensed soldiers was frozen mid-fall, the orb stopped just before the face of one of them who was quite obviously in a state of panic. Just beyond that last man was the mace wielding moderator, his empty hand with a half formed shield already beginning to form to deflect the globe. With the world around him frozen, Lars could truly appreciate what he was, but had only two seconds to react within the confines of the ‘spell’. He rushed forward, towards the man who pretended to be the royalty, a dagger finding his empty left hand.

“One one-thousand.”

Running atop of the fallen bodies was like running in the snow, soft and plush. The uneven obstructions of armor, bones, body parts, and flailed weapons made the task that much more difficult. However he was already counting, already moving. It would be another second before everything would return, and then the melee would continue. There was not enough time to gain a blow on the mace wielder, but he loosed the dagger anyway in case it could get over the shield before it was created. At the same time, perhaps as a sign of no ill will, or maybe even out of a loving respect for others, the hacker pushed aside the last soldiers face.

“Two one-thousand.”

When the world started again it was a different scene. The man, who would have had his face broken in, and probably died from the blow, was spared with a strike to his shoulder instead. He spun wildly towards those that were facing Miehm. Lars did not pay attention to him though, his extended hand was still coming down, a dagger mid-flight. The black wall of force appeared before the scourge mage and deflected the globe harmlessly away from anything. However, the shield also jerked at an upwards angle as the man was caught by the steel blade in the shoulder.

Magic faltered and in a split second, through the parted sea, the hacker lunged. His shoulder heavily slammed into the stomach of his rival as he attempted to tackle the man to the ground. He had an advantage over the skinny freak on the floor, his power and size far better suited to ground-and-pound tactics than a dagger against mace battle.

[Miehm]

My hands moved in a blur, struggling to hold the doorway with a flurry of blows, breaking a wrist here and there, shattering kneecaps, slicing tendons, and all in all making a nuisance of myself at every opportunity. My breath was coming ragged in my lungs, courtesy of the hit I had taken earlier, but it wasn't enough to stop me yet.

The sudden cessation of time was enough to stop me. I know that when the adrenaline gets pumping things are supposed to slow down, but this is frankly ridiculous. I can't even move my eyes for what feels like two seconds, but I can get ready to maim my next opponent, and I do exactly that as the effect wears off, and my spike penetrates the fleshy bit of his collar bone, and punches through into his shoulder blade, which unfortunately traps my weapon in his body.

"Bad idea... ETHAN!" I couldn't see him take the old man to the floor, but he needed to hurry up so we could make our escape mostly intact. I was getting more and more bogged down, and if this kept up I would have no choice but to start killing these guards. I jumped back, and pinned two guards out of play with my throwing knives, one wrist stuck to a door, the other man clutching his thigh.

My hand flashes with steel, and I’m holding my bowie knife, catching a sword on the draw, and locking the crossguards at right angles to the blade, twisting it out of my opponents hand before smashing his face in. I shake my hand again, before groping at my belt to pull out my trench knife, and get fully back into the fight.

If this kept up, I was going to build a wall of disabled enemies, and never get out of the room even if we did kill the bastard in charge. Sometimes, life’s a bitch like that though. Oh well. I smashed another face in, and let the next soldier step forward, over the body of yet another of his crippled and broken comrades. They were fighting stupid, and as long as they kept at it I could break them as fast as they stepped forward.

[Taskmienster]

The man’s weight folded under Ethan’s sudden attack, he was frail and old. The hacker fell on top of him with a fist to the face, a quick powerful blow that knocked the scourges head into the floor. It thudded and rebounded. Another blow caught the side of his face and the aggressor was given a sick crunch of bones and teeth. Ethan continued to rein blows down on the man, not willing to cease his assault until the abysmal man was dead or unconscious. Every punch, every crunch made the resolution and confidence of Lars grow. The rage was slowly dissipating through the physical release of violence, a tendency that he would have normally not engaged in or enjoyed so much.

“Just. Die. Fucker.”

The words were spit at the man, a tone of venom from the unfettered anger. Another fist was thrown, this one stopping mere centimeters from the creeps face. Ethan sat up straight and raised his other hand, throwing it down while picking up his other fist. The second shocking halt of his force brought about a worried and somber look on the hackers face. Empty eyes turned to meet his gray-blue, and a blood smeared smile found the face of the scourge mage. “You are out of this loop, tearing it apart, I will not die for my purpose is to remove you.”

Ethan’s arms rose suddenly, spread wide by the magic from the mage. His grotesque smile grew and his empty sockets flashed with an unexpected light. A brilliant light struck the hacker in the chest and exploded. The burst flung Lars away and into a group of armored men who were looking at Miehm. They fell and folded under his weight and momentum. A small stream of deep red blossomed on the edge of his while fur lining, drops being caught by the synthetic material. Before he could move, hands were holding him down, gripping his shoulders and pushing him to the ground.

“Keep him still,” the devious scourge mage’s sly whisper made the men cling harder. “It’s his time to die.”

As quickly as he man approached, Lars freed his hands and slammed them together. The empty palms crashed in a clap, one that was a manipulation of the code. The noise was not a simple clamor of flesh on flesh. It became a sharp, powerful wave of sonic energy. Quivering sound was almost tangibly moving, spreading as it reached out for the mage. The edges of the code caught picture frames, glass sculptures, shattering everything formed of crystal. When it hit the mage, he grabbed his ears. Through the tight fingers blood slowly dripped, spilling to the ground.

“Miehm!” Lars screamed, hoping the man was freed by his own body being entangled with the men that were facing him. It was a moment of weakness for the scourge mage, a moment of faltering that was probably the only opportunity to kill him.

[Miehm]

"Shit..." My ears were ringing after Ethan's massive feedback had torn through the room. Watching him fly past me and into my opponents had been quite shocking, but the fact that the mage walked past me like I didn't even exist was equally unsettling.

He pronounced that it was time for Ethan to die, and I acted without thinking. He didn't get a chance to raise his arm, or make a single gesture before my knife blade slipped between his vertebrae and his skull. The crunch of grinding bone and cartilage was audible through my arm, and his body went limp immediately, like a pithed frog. My other arm came up and around, drawing a line of crimson across his throat, slitting it from ear to ear.

"Bitch, this ain't it." I turned back towards the guards holding him, but they were already letting him loose and shaking their heads in confusion. I watched carefully while they sorted themselves out.

"Are y'all gonna keep tryin to kill us?" It was a pretty stupid question, since they hadn't attacked yet, but the last five or so guards that were on their feet and still capable of fighting were still going to be plenty of match for me. They couldn't fight for shit, but I was suddenly exhausted. I looked around, and realized that what had seemed like just a few minutes had been enough carnage to cripple or maim twenty guards. Broken bodies lay all over the floor, either unconscious, or clutching at crippling injuries. "Oh... Shit. Somebody better get a healer then..."

"Ethan. Whatcha say man?" I watched two of the guards run off, probably looking for that healer I mentioned, and moved to help Ethan to his feet, holding out a hand for him to grasp.

[Taskmienster]

A hand clapped over the hacker’s mouth as he screamed; another one across his throat. It was like being in a sea of fingers, a riptide of digits pulling the man down and holding him firmly under. Unable to escape, unable to move he hoped that Miehm had enough time to act. The fingers and arms were tight around him, it would be seconds before his first encounter with a moderator of the Althanas server would also become his last. They were far more powerful than he had ever assumed. He was far weaker than he considered himself to be.

“So be it…”

The thought came along side the calm that coursed through him, slowing his heart and letting the adrenaline that was flowing die away. His muscles were tensed, burning with the exertion. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a slick sheen coating his arms beneath his faux-leather jacket and his tight jeans. Eyes closed, break ragged, he waited for the long black blade to pierce him and destroy the coded body he so loved.

A spray of blood smattered its way across his face, warm and metallic. He could taste it in the air, smell the coppery tinge. Drops mingled with sweat and a few isolated tears of self-pity. They ran their course down his cheeks, catching the edge of his lips. Tasting the blood he cringed, unable to keep his lips tight enough to let the crimson simply drip from his chin to his jacket. He tightened his eyes, unable to believe how painless death really was. Perhaps Althanas had changed the coding to not simulate true death. Perhaps death was not something that was painful on the site simply to reserve the company from lawsuits due to the mental anguish that would come from it. Lars could easily understand how dying multiple times on the site for those that took it too seriously could toy with the mind of those slowly slipping away.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see a dagger plunged deep in his chest. The sight he was offered was one of unbelief and overall misunderstanding. Gushing and flowing down the front of the scourge mage’s black garb was an unstoppable flood of blood. It was spraying outwards, his dagger dropped to his side and his hands grasping his opened throat. The lifeless eyes of the man slowly faded to empty sockets before he could even drop to the floor. Miehm was standing with a coated blade, and a grimace on his face that spoke of the kill.

“Motherfucker,” Ethan muttered as the hands let loose and the men around him slowly began to push away and stand. Goosebumps raced along his arms, his computer simulated hair following the sub-conscious thoughts of the actual user behind the façade. He was not dead, there was no blade protruding from his chest, and the guards around him seemed dazed and lost. The staff member was dead and quiet, a puddle of blood building and growing closer to the black converse of Lars.

“Umm…” The hacker slowly stood and stepped away from the dead man, keeping his soft cloth shoes from being dipped into the pool of crimson. It was slowly staining everything around the scourge mage; priceless rugs had tassels absorbing it. The stains would never come out. Why he thought that, he was not sure. Overwhelmed with his muscles losing their tensed state, he sagged and dropped to a knee. “Get a healer, yes. Get a lot of them. And get to the Queen.”

“I fear that she was put under the same spell as these soldiers, as the Baron himself. She must be found and make sure that she was not hurt.” Lars looked around and watched as the gilded lining in the walls slowly shimmered blue before returning to its golden sheen. The magic of the man had coursed through the entire palace, used the magically soaked wood and the enchanted gilding to control the entire guard and servants. It was a thought that made the hacker uneasy, but his target was dead so it meant little now. “We better get a fucking massive reward for this. I don’t want some fucking gold star around my neck, I want a purse full of gold.”

[Taskmienster]

The common room was a mess, almost as bad as Colin’s house when his girlfriend was not there to nag him to clean it. He looked through the eyes of his computer programmed body and shook his head, unable to remove the grating feeling of unease that whispered in his thoughts. The administration of Althanas was closing much faster than he had anticipated, never before had any gaming communities staff been able to catch up with him so quickly. GramVR employed only the most experienced, most adept programmers from what he had heard. Though they were the rival company to his own, he could not help but feel a slight bit of admiration for their dedication. If he had half of the talent and competence expressed by the Althanas staff the necessity of hacking into the server and stealing information would not even be required. Unfortunately, it also meant that he would have to keep on his toes a lot more.

He edged his way past the half gutted couch, a dull long sword protruding from its side. Splinters of wood were splayed across the ground, some from a priceless bookshelf, other pieces from the frame of the furniture. All along the ground the moaning soldiers held their wounds, unsure of how they had been caused as their knowledge of blind obedience was erased with the death of the moderator. The blue gray eyes of the hacker watched the ‘magic’ of the healers pulse through the fallen men; actually saw the threads of coding that created the different forms of healing. Blue and red streaks flooded their bodies, a light blue haze clouded their eyes as the wounds closed and the blood stopped flowing. It would take much more than that to fix the rest of the room.

A transparent keypad appeared at Lars’ fingertips, visible only to him. He walked to one of the bookshelves and wedged the halberd head out of it, dropping it to the ground. Nobody turned to watch him; everyone’s eyes were busy guiding healing spells or cleaning up the weapons. With a few quick taps on the keypad he began to work. Coding was second nature, a skill he had known for as long as he could remember doing anything. Altering the code that he used to fix his own clothes, he turned it on the splintered wooden case. After a quick series of intricate, albeit simple for him, entries the cracks and fragments began to fill in and slowly recover. It was not even a minute later that the majority of the work was done, but he was interrupted by a rough clearing of someone’s throat.

“What?” He spat at the waiting, slim man. The rude expression that he had greeted Ethan and Miehm with at the entrance was replaced by a docile one. “Did you carry on my message and what I had to the Queen, or whoever the hell’s in charge of this place?”

“The Queen was taken ill by the plague of the scourge mage,” he responded politely with a small bow. “Unfortunately she will not be able to see you, as it was already planned, though for much different reasons than before. The Baron has been briefed on the story that you have given us, and is thrilled—“

“Fucking thrilled?!”

“—that you have been so bold as to venture from Olme to Scara Brae with the news. The fact that the scourge are behind the act comes as no surprise to him, and he wishes to request that you keep your information secretive for now. It is not unknown to the scourge that you are the one that brought the info to us, otherwise they would not have attempted to stop you so vigorously. You will be rewarded for your dedication to the good of our humble island, but we would also like to suggest that perhaps it would be best and most advantageous if you departed. Any further business that you have on the island will undoubtedly result in the Scourge becoming involved and attempting to kill you for what you have done. Until your time of departure you will be given escort anywhere in the city, free room and board –for both yourself and your partner – and a small guard until you decide to depart.”

“That is then?” The man nodded and smiled, turning his back to the hacker and the fallen men and walking down the corridor. Lars sighed and closed his eyes, one of his daggers had been taken for proof of his word, but he still had the other ones. They would be a small reward compared to what he had expected to gain from his death-defying deeds of heroics. Perhaps Althanas was built for heroes, but if it was they were getting fucked by the economy. Too many heroes, not enough bad guys, and the entire place was a means of little to no rewards because so much had to be doled out to everyone in equal proportions. He tapped the daggers and thought about what the man said. Perhaps it was best to leave, having the staff so close on his tail and his deeds so well spread throughout a server run organization meant that they would be able to find him… and the next time his chances may not turn in his favor.

Spoils:
2 delyn daggers from the scourge. Reward money for both of us.