Dream Drive Ch. 04

He released.

The feathers whipped the air as the arrow raced forward. In half a second, punctured right where Jackson had aimed. The rattok hung for a moment, motionless, then toppled off the platform and into the cavern.

Jackson's essence counter ticked up to 32. Sweet.

Shrieks echoed out of the cave. Shit.

Jackson slung the bow over his shoulder and grabbed his spear and shield. Hanta had helped him reinforce the slats - some well-placed sinew had tightened up the wood. He braced his spear under his arm and jogged forward.

Footsteps thumped on the wooden ramp. A rattok emerged from the top of the cave and swiveled, nose high, jagged teeth exposed to the air. Yellowed claws extended from its paws.

Jackson lifted his shield and slammed into it at a full sprint. It sprawled into the cave face-first. Jackson turned, facing down the ramp. Another rattok was already there, inside the reach of his spear.

Jackson dropped his weapon and used both hands to shove his shield forward. His height advantage gave him an edge. The rattok was forced back, scrabbling to try and knock the broad wall of wood out of its face.

Jackson used one arm to pull his dagger free. The rattok hooked its claws around the edge of the shield and pulled, trying to get it out of the way. Jackson let it happen, using that momentum to twist, coming in with his knife from the other side. He took the creature right in the gut, then ripped the blade down and out. He kicked the wailing rattok off the ramp.

A third creature was right behind it. Its claws slashed through Jackson's arm, leaving red marks that faded almost instantly. His health bar took a hit.

Jackson backed up the ramp. The rattok tried to keep its momentum, swiping with its claws in a rabid flurry. Jackson backed up the ramp, using broad sweeps of his dagger to keep it at bay.

When he reached the top of the ramp, Jackson stopped, bent his legs and shoved forward. The rattok was in a frenzy - it didn't notice his change in motion, or it didn't care. Gravity did his work for him - he came crashing down full-body on the rattok.

His shield mashed it into the wood. Its claws nicked him a few more times - until Jackson drove his dagger into its throat. It went limp.

Jackson wiped his dagger clean on the rattok's patchy clothes and stuck it back into his belt. Hanta had provided him with a sheath for his main iron dagger, and a belt that made it easy to tuck in his bone dagger. Come to think of it, Hanta had provided him with quite a bit. Jackson would have to make up for that.

A pained noise drew his attention. The first rattok - the one he'd slammed over the edge of the cave - was still alive. One of its legs was broken, and it was trying to crawl away over the stones.

He worked his way down the ramp and hefted his spear. A fearful rat-face glanced back at him, beady black eyes wide and panicked. Jackson stood over it, looking down, squinting. He considered that what he was about to do was vicious in the extreme - and then considered that it was a freakish, inhuman cannibal. He stabbed it in the back, once, twice, three times. It slumped to the rock, dead.

52 essence, now.

Jackson retrieved his arrow from the corpse of the rattok that had fallen from the lookout platform. The arrowhead was chipped, but still functional. He replaced it in his quiver.

He checked the bodies again. One of them had another bone dagger; he slipped it into his belt, bringing his collection up to three. He was starting to build a solid little arsenal. He just needed some other handy sidearm, something between the spear and the dagger. A hammer, or a sword, maybe.

The cavern was as he'd remembered. The grassy pool in the center didn't have a trickle of water running into it; it hadn't rained recently. The broken cage had been moved somewhere. The rock still carried red stains where he remembered killing rattok, but the corpses were gone.

Well, that made sense. Probably got eaten.

Jackson examined his essence bar again. It hovered just over halfway full at 52 points - although he didn't know what the exact numerical cap was. His health had started at 50 points, so it seemed a safe assumption that his essence would cap out at a nice round 100 points. Should he put more into his statistics, or wait?

He decided to sit on it. Having spare essence for special abilities was more important than making himself incrementally stronger, at least for the time being. These tunnels ran deep.

Jackson glanced around the room, trying to remember how to proceed, and then he snorted at himself. Minimap. A quick tap opened a full-size version. He sighed as he saw it. Thank god. This place was a maze.

Unlike when he'd brought up the map in his house, his location was labeled only as ???. The overhead view was in full color, and he could even zoom in to inspect environmental details. He followed his path back along one main hallway, scrolling with a finger. His first trip progressed in one general direction, along with the occasional side room.

He minimized the map back to the lower right. The hallways were as he remembered - regular stone blocks, wet with damp, grown over with moss. His moccasins saved his feet from squishing through the slime where water collected on the floor.

Jackson kept his eyes forward and focused. He stopped a few times to check his direction on the map, but tried to rely on his memory. He didn't want to be caught with his screen blocking his view. They were all somewhat translucent, but it would definitely distract him.

The light of day dimmed behind him as he crept forward, but the soft blue light was still there. It seemed to come from the walls themselves, almost like a fog. He found his way back into the main hall that connected most of the rooms. He moved with a firm but cautious stride, keeping balanced, weapon ready.

A rattok stepped out of an archway. It turned toward him.

Jackson's spear burst through its neck. He wrenched his weapon back, and the rattok fell to the ground. It made a harsh gurgling sound. Jackson stepped forward and pierced its stomach with a quick downward strike, killing it.

Shrieks echoed. Rattok burst from doors ahead and behind of Jackson. Two more moved in the shadows beyond the archway.

He couldn't stay in the hall - he was surrounded. He ducked under the stone arch and attacked the first rattok his saw. His spear took it in the chest. Its arm smacked his head, but he kept running, forcing it back until its legs gave out and it collapsed. He used the weight of its fall to tear the point of his weapon free.

The other rattok was on his left. Jackson swung his spear, but he was too slow. The rattok jumped back to avoid the shearing tip and stayed there, out of range of his weapon.

Jackson checked his footing. He was in the center of the small room. The floor was clear aside from a few sleeping pallets in the back. The rattok stayed where it was, claws ready, squeaking angrily, but it didn't move.

A heavy growl caught Jackson's attention. A hulking rattok wearing leather armor bent under the arch to enter the room. It carried a wooden club jutting with steel spikes. It was followed by another smaller partner. The waiting rattok made a slavering grin and shrieked at him. It was waiting for reinforcements.

These things were smart, but Jackson was smarter.

He waited, choking up on his spear just a bit. The rattok pack leader took the front. The other two fanned out to flank Jackson on either side.

He waited. The leader stepped forward, readying its club. The other two bared their fangs and closed in, one step at a time.

Jackson waited.

The hulking rattok growled and lunged, club gripped in both hands. The other two rattok leapt together. They barreled down on him from three directions.

The tip of Jackson's spear glowed white. He grasped his essence and shoved it into the weapon. It was like tipping a boulder over a hill. His body went on autopilot, guided by the unseen hand of the ability. His feet churned in a blur, rotating his torso.

The tip of his spear whistled through the air, leaving a white ring in its path. The light of the level 7 Power Spin blasted into the oncoming enemies. The two smaller rattok were blown backward against the walls on either side of Jackson. A jagged line was torn across their stomachs. They fell to the ground, gutted.

The leader fared better, but he stumbled back from the force of the essence. His forearms were gashed in a line where the attack had struck. It fumbled to keep its club in hand.

When it looked up, Jackson was in the air. His shoes and his weapon both glowed white as his level 12 Lunge propelled him off the ground. His spear came down with the momentum of his jump behind it. He buried it in the rattok's chest, puncturing through the leather armor and straight into its heart.

Jackson ripped his weapon free.

The huge rattok stood there. Its mouth worked slightly. A spurt of blood leaked from the hole in its flesh as the shredded remains of its heart gave one last weak thump. It collapsed to the stone at Jackson's feet.

Jackson had spent 40 essence to perform those attacks, but his essence counter now read 89. Points well spent. No use in having special attacks if he didn't use them.

Like before, the larger rattok began to dissolve. Its corpse shriveled up, and liquefied, leaving a black ooze on the floor. Jackson bent to inspect it. He rubbed a finger through it. It was like oil, but...thicker. More viscous. He wiped his finger on the stone.

The gleam of an essence crystal caught his eye. It rested in the center of the oily remains of his foe. He picked it out of the ooze; luckily, the black gunk didn't stick to the crystal.

He gripped it tightly. This is what he needed - strength. He eyed his essence bar. At 89 points, it looked very full.

Jackson glanced at the shard of energy in his hands. Now was the time to test things out, when the consequences were still minor. He squeezed, hard. The crystal crushed to powder in his hands. The energy rushed into him, balling up in his gut.

His counter leapt to 139 points - the crystal was fifty essence. The blue bar overflowed past the black line marking his capacity.

A grey haze appeared on Jackson's skin. It shone from him like foggy light - almost like the blue light in the ruins. And then his essence dropped. 138.

137.

136.

"Game menu!" Jackson shouted. His fingers flew to his pentagram. He tapped Vitality and immediately dumped 40 points into it. He was quick enough to catch it when his counter had reached 134.

His health bar jumped to 122 points total. The grey haze on his skin vanished. His essence counter stopped dropping - it was below the threshold once again.

Jackson sat on clean stone and set down his weapons. He'd lost a few points of health. Sitting and resting would let him recover faster.

So, technically, he didn't have a set limit for essence storage - but if he exceeded the capacity of his Spirit, he'd start leaking like a bucket made of Swiss cheese. Until he raised his Spirit, he would waste essence if he collected more than 100 at a time.

Jackson still had 94 essence - too close to the cap for comfort. Just one rattok could put him over the limit. He had to spend a little more, get himself down to something safer - 50 sounded like a good level. That would let him do another Power Spin and follow with a few smaller tricks.

He glanced at his red bar again, which was now filled. Something looked off. He'd calculated that each point of Vitality was 1.25 points of health, but he now had 66 Vitality. That was 50 added to...82.5, for a total of 132.5 health.

He only had 126 health. Jackson frowned. Did he do the math wrong? He needed a calculator.

His eyes widened. He snapped his fingers. Decreasing returns. He'd gotten 1.25 points of health for his first 40 points of Vitality. That would give him a nice even 100 health. The last 26 points of Vitality granted him 1 health each, for a total of 126.

If he concentrated his essence in particular areas, he'd see smaller and smaller benefits, but in the long run, that meant the game would punish people that tried to do a little of everything. They'd spread themselves thinner and thinner, and ultimately become too weak to do anything effectively. He had to commit, sacrificing some statistics to excel in others.

Jackson liked his abilities, and he hadn't figured out magic to his satisfaction. Persuasion was one of Chaki's talents; that was out. Right now, he wanted Vitality, Strength, and Spirit - take lots of hits, do lots of damage, and use plenty of special attacks. A little dash of Agility would help him stay light on his feet.

Compulsion, though. Jackson was interested in the other branch of magic. He might have to shrug his shoulders and get over it. In most of the role playing games he played, he enjoyed the melee classes more than the wizards and magicians.

Well, it was still early enough change things up if he decided he didn't like his build. He examined the pentagram with his statistics. He wanted more essence capacity, definitely, but it didn't leak that quickly - he could dump it into something on the off-chance he overflowed. For now, he needed to ensure his survival. Jackson dumped 14 points into Agility and 30 points into Strength, then reevaluated.

Strength - 30 +3 (+10%)

Vitality - 60 +6 (+10%)

Agility - 14 +1 (+5%)

Compulsion - 0

Persuasion - 0

Spirit - 0 (+25%)

Health - 126.00/126.00

Essence - 50

Carry Weight - 25.1/43.25

Jackson smiled when he saw that he a total of 15 Agility. The percentage bonus he got from his bond with Chaki had been rounded up.

Chaki.

The stone was cold under his legs. Jackson hadn't paid much attention during his fight, but his surroundings were not encouraging. It was dim, clammy, wet. The edge of a familiar rotting scent was touching his nostrils. He was very, very, alone.

He wished Chaki was there.

He felt at the bond in his mind. It was faded, like a campfire seen at a distance - nothing like the roaring flames he wanted. But it was still there. That gave him a little comfort.

He turned back to his statistics. His carry weight was still following the pattern of 0.25 points for each point of Strength. Perhaps 40 points in any statistic was the primary soft cap. The symmetry made sense, and programmers didn't do things that didn't make sense. If you didn't get it, you just had to find the sense in what they did.

Footsteps. They were heavy on the stone floor. Boots?

"Close menu," Jackson whispered. He climbed to his feet, picking up his spear and shield. His eyes flicked to his status bars. 126/126 health, 50 essence. He slid up against the wall, out of direct sight through the arch, and peered down the hall at an angle.

The footsteps grew louder. They were slow, unhurried. He heard them pause, and then - a whistle? Whoever it was had whistled in appreciation for something.

The footsteps grew closer. Jackson tensed his arm, ready to thrust.

###

Rachel stepped over the body of yet another rattok. Judging from the wounds, the person had used some kind of stabbing weapon.

She stopped at a stone arch. It led into a bare stone room that had a few pallets at one end - the mats of grass and cloth that rattok slept on. An oily slickness spread across the stone nearby, and there were two more corpses against the walls.

They looked different. Both dead, of course, but they hadn't been stabbed - rather, slashed across the abdomen, gutted like fish. Odd. She stepped forward to get a closer look.

Rachel stopped. There was a shiny point of metal at her neck - the point of a spear. "...uh..."

A voice called from her left, just around the corner. It was terse, abbreviated. "Who are you?"

"My name is Rachel," Rachel said. "Do you mind not pointing sharp weapons at me? I don't like sharp things, near me, at my neck. Like what you're doing."

Without waiting for him to answer, she placed a hand on the shaft below the spear and pushed it away. She stepped forward as she did so, and turned. A man stood there - a young man. He was pale, almost ghostly white, with hard features. He had no facial hair. His eyes were green, and narrowed at her.

"What's with the look?" Rachel asked.

"I'm wondering," the man said, "what you're doing here." He wasn't pointing the spear at her anymore, but he kept it drawn back, ready to strike. A coiled snake.

"I'm here to explore, kill rattok, find treasure, and collect essence," Rachel said. "How about we trade questions? What's your name, and what are you doing here?"

The boy's eyes widened. He let his spear fall to the ground. "...are you a player? In Isis?"

"I knew it!" Rachel said. "When I saw those rattok, I knew it had to be someone with the mark." She drew her cloak's long sleeve from her arm and peeled off her black leather glove, exposing her left hand and her inked pentagram. "See?"

"...yeah." He lifted his left hand a bit. He had a similar scar. "I guess we're the same."

"Right," Rachel said. "Want to PvP?"

"What? No!"

"Come on," Rachel said. "I'm dying to find out what happens when players fight. Here, you go first. Scratch my arm with your spear."

"No."

"What the hell," Rachel said. "You were ready to stab me a second ago."

"I didn't know if you were...I dunno. A bandit or something."

"Why would bandits come down into a rattok nest?"

He shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

"Great. Another stupid one." Rachel put her hands on her hips. "So, do you know what the hell is going on? Right now I figure I'm going to climb the tower and take revenge on those assholes that banished me down here while I was ass-fucking naked. Do you know how much explaining I had to do to the magician I met? By the way, why are you dressed like one of those Indians?"

"Uh..." He shrugged. "It's a long story. My name is Jackson, by the way. I'm also...doing what you're doing. Essence, treasure, that sort of thing."

"Jackson..." Rachel frowned. "You're Jackson Vedalt?"

"You know me?"

Rachel made a face. Of course she knew Jackson Vedalt. Anyone that knew how to do more than work a word processor knew that name. He'd come out of nowhere in the Dream Hub and had grossed over 40,000 in Vitcoins in a handful of months, establishing himself as one of the world's premier virtual gaming champions. Watching him play games was like watching Mozart compose musicals. He had more Hub Followers than God. Rachel was one of them - she had been ever since she lost to him in Wing Commander: Alpha Squadron tournament. He was notoriously reclusive, almost never responding to any messages, public or private. He showed up, played, and left. Rumor had it he drank a lot, but the barkeeps didn't talk. They didn't want to lose his business when fans showed up.

"I only remember you because you quit out early," Rachel said. "I had money on you, asswipe."

Jackson's face flickered through a few small expressions. "...if you're in Isis this soon, that means you were in the finals of the Top Gamer contest."

"By the skin of my teeth, yep."

"If you bet on me, that means you bet against yourself."

"Yeah, so? I went with the sure thing. Most people thought you were the favorite. I figured if we got matched up, I'd lose, so why waste money?"

"Superficial show of self-confidence?" Jackson offered.

"I had total self-confidence that I would lose miserably," Rachel said. "Alright, Jacky, if we're going to go spelunking, let's lay out some ground rules. First, no kill stealing. Second, finders keepers. Got it?"

"First of all," Jackson said, "don't call me Jacky. It's Jackson. And what happened to PvP?"

"Forget PvP. It's too dangerous. It was an impulse. I'm curious. I like to investigate things. I'm a little ADD. Except, not, because I focus on five things at once rather than one thing, or nothing at all, if that makes any sense. We'll get more done if we work together. I'm on a mission, after all. I need to get to the bottom of this place. We can fight each other whenever, you know?"