Welcome to Abarrane [Part 1] Read online

  Welcome to Abarrane

  Part 1

  Written by: S. A. Devane

  Cover Art by: Thien Nguyen Phuoc

  © 2018 S. A. Devane. All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  I stood in the white changing room, naked, looking down at my time-worn body. Caressing my old scars, wrinkles and concave face for the last time. Once I entered Abarrane, I could never go back, and I had no desire to. In the contract I signed, it stated, “All those that tried to exit the system have died.” The psych evaluation wasn’t as thorough as I thought it would be. They only asked if this is what I wanted. Of course I did, have you seen me, did you read the articles about me from forty years ago, I have nothing here. At least nothing I wanted. I stepped out nude onto the cold tile floor and the nurse greeted me, “are you ready?” I nodded. The nurse wasn’t beautiful, but her youth and kindness gave her a glow. We walked side by side to the pod as I cupped my privates to spare her the sight. We stopped at a domed glass coffin, inside was a plastic and porcelain helmet. She smiled her pearl white teeth at me while holding my arm. As she helped me into the glass dome I felt, uneasy.

  “Just lay down and try to relax Mr. Abbott.” I did as she said, the cold hard glass warmed as I waited for her next instruction. “We are going to put the helmet on now.” She gently slipped it over my head. “Now I am attaching IV’s to your arm. You might feel a slight pinch.” I winced as the four needles penetrated my skin. “Now Mr. Abbott we are going to fill your pod half way with synth gel.” I guess the step-by-step description put me at ease or some sedative in the IV’s, because my eyes grew heavy as the warm viscous liquid hit my skin and I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up standing in darkness. Endless darkness. I reached to hold my forearm, but my hand passed through the illusion. Then from behind came a woman’s voice, sultry and emotionless, “Greetings Immortal. Welcome to Abarrane.” As she spoke a planet shot into view, green and blue like Earth, but that’s where the similarities ended. I saw three massive continents as it rotated in front of me, pock marked with thousands of islands.

  “This is the world of Abarrane. Ten times the size of your Earth. Populated by countless races, beasts, and monsters. Here you will choose your race and starting point.” The islands and continents became outlined in a thin yellow glowing border, so I touched it and the globe zoomed. “This is the continent of Alleria.” I had a sky view of mountain ranges, a vast desert in the center, forest, rivers, lakes, and a large jungle in the southern region. I touched a forested area in the north east. “Shadrath Peninsula, Shadrath Forest, home to the Shadrath Wood Elves.” A male Wood Elf avatar appeared. He had wild curly gold hair, large brown eyes, and typical Elven ears. Beneath him was a list of his attributes which the voice read to me.

  “Starting attributes:

  Intelligence: 4

  Agility: 11 (15.4)

  Strength: 4

  Charisma: 2

  Endurance: 4

  Wisdom: 1

  Perception: 3

  Luck: 1

  Racial Trait: People of the Forest: Agility increased by 40%. Accuracy with ranged weapons increased by 10%.”

  Confused for a moment, I realized the numbers in parentheses were adjusted for the racial traits. This wasn’t what I was looking for. I cast my hand to the side cutting the Elf in half and he disappeared in a thick smoke.

  Next I tapped a forest near a short mountain range. “Drogan Mountains, Drogan Forest, home to the Drogan Dark Goblins.” I flinched back at the monstrosity. Much shorter than the Wood Elf, it had pitch black skin with jet black eyes, an elongated downward curving nose, and ears pointing up twice the length of the Elves.

  “Starting attributes,

  Intelligence: 3

  Agility: 6 (6.6)

  Strength: 7 (7.7)

  Charisma: 3 (.75)

  Endurance: 4

  Wisdom: 1

  Perception: 5 (5.5)

  Luck: 1

  Racial Traits: Nocturnal Breed: Agility, Strength, and Perception increased by 10%. Plus 5 Perception at night or in unlit areas

  Hated Species: Charisma reduced by 75%.”

  I spent the next four hours searching for the right race, tapping forests and mountains and grasslands and coastlines until I finally found what I was looking for. “Straight of Raptors, Blueblood Jungle, Blueblood Jungle Troll.

  Starting attributes:

  Intelligence: 1

  Agility: 7

  Strength: 5

  Charisma: 1 (.5)

  Endurance: 12 (21.6)

  Wisdom: 1

  Perception: 2

  Luck: 1

  Racial Traits: Bryophyte Enhanced Regeneration: Endurance increased by 80%.

  Blue Blood: Immune to Blood Magic.

  Hated Monster: Charisma reduced by 50%.”

  I looked at the lanky troll, his face was grim, skin a light green. Its black hair was overgrown and drab, but what bothered me the most were the yellow upward curving tusks. Touching the avatar, sliders appeared into view. I took my time to adjust the monster to suit my tastes. I maxed his height out at eight feet, removed the tusks, darkened his skin to a deep forest green, and removed all his hair excluding the eyebrows. One less bit of grooming I’ll have to contend with I thought. I checked every slider twice trying to adjust the troll’s fat and muscle mass, but I had no control over it. “Okay, I’m done,” I said aloud. The woman’s voice returned, “Are you sure you wish to become a Blueblood Jungle Troll? Warning! Selecting yes is permanent and you will never be able to change races.” With confidence, I thought yes, this is what I want. Then darkness overcame me once again. Golden sparks of light began orbiting my body, popping like tiny firecrackers. The sparks multiplied and spiraled, getting ever faster. More and more appeared until they created golden streams, swirling and expanding into a golden wall of light. I lifted my ethereal human hand and watched in horror as they stretched and expanded, my fingers merging to form two large fingers and a thumb. Yet I felt nothing. No pain, no flesh tearing or stretching, just the disgust of a monstrous transformation appearing before my eyes.

  A loud ping sounded and the golden wall fell away like glitter in the wind. I was about to examine myself when the woman spoke, “Choose your name Immortal.” This time her tone was harsh and impatient. I took a moment and considered my options, but it must have been too long because the woman's voice asked, “Would you like me to generate a name for you?” I shouted, “No!” Thinking to my teenage years, when games gave you plain generic names. I was going to have this name forever, it had to be great. I wanted a name to frighten my enemies. Like Dracula, or Hellscream. To my dismay the names were taken. “Spinesplitter?” “No,” the voice chimed back.

  “Vertaebreaker?”

  “No.”

  “Krueger?”

  “No.”

  “Bloodletter?”

  “No.”

  “Iceman?”

  “No.”

  “Mack The Knife?”

  “No.”

  “Jack the Ripper?”

  “No.”

  “Breaking Bonaparte?”

  “No.”

  In my frustration, I asked for a name that popped into my head at that moment, “Joe Axe?”

  “Welcome to Abarrane, Joe Axe.”

  “No, no
, no, no, no, I don’t want that name. I want something else. Stop, I want a different name.” I tried to argue.

  “Your name has been chosen Joe Axe. Welcome to Abarrane.”

  Chapter 2

  As I waited in the darkness I thought back to the day when I made the biggest decision of my life. “Welcome to Immortality.” A young caramel skinned man with blue eyes greeted me. His white smile didn’t waver when he saw my five-day unshaven concave face. All around the showroom were elderly men and women in suits. They had large monitors that showed what the inside of Abarrane was like. Young muscular men and Elven men shirtless chopping wood. Young beautiful female humans, elves and some blue race I didn’t recognize were sailing ships in scantily clad clothing. On another screen was the founder, John E. Yuan. Speaking in his thick Chinese accent about why he chose to make Abarrane a fantasy world instead of a contemporary setting or science fiction.

  “We decided against rebuilding Earth, where’s the fun in getting a day job and reliving your life? We didn’t go the route of Sci Fi because in space you could go hundreds of years without seeing another person. We could have forced interaction on the players, but we wanted a more natural feel. Also, I am a huge fan of fantasy games. Giving people the chance to wield magic and build up a world of their own creation. The decision really made itself for us.” One of the glass coffins they put you in was in the center of the showroom. They didn’t call it a coffin, but I did, that’s what it was. You entered it knowing you were going to be in it the rest of your unnatural life.

  I stood out in the crowd, wearing my best white T-shirt with the collar only slightly stretched, worn jeans, and a freshly bought pair of white walking shoes. My only big purchase since getting out. I guessed the only reason he didn’t call security on me was a handful of people got lucky and bought IMT or Immortal Tokens, forty years ago. It was the heyday of ICO’s, initial coin offerings. Cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Ethereum made people multi millions over a few short years. It was taking the world by storm, at least my world. The caveat was, for every solid project there were 500 failures or scams. When IMT was released, I had just got all my savings into a cryptocurrency exchange. IMT was selling for four cents a coin, I spent all 3000 dollars on it, minus the fees it cost to get my money onto the exchange. I had no idea what I was doing, it was new and cheap and I was hoping to be an overnight millionaire. Looking back now, I was insane, the company was promising immortality. That’s all they said, “We are working on multiple avenues to make IMT holders immortal.” The internet screamed “Scam!” I would have sold it after all the television specials accusing the IMT foundation along with others of being snake oil salesmen. But I couldn’t, where I went there was no internet. Through a series of events I landed in prison with a forty year to life sentence. Those coins and the little information on the foundation I heard from guards was the only thing keeping me going. I had 11,575 reasons to stay alive.

  “Um, Sir?” The young man said getting my attention. I shook myself from my daydream and apologized. “I’m sorry. I want to sign up for Immortality.” He looked at me with doubt for the first time. “Sir, the cost to enter is 10,000 IMT or 100,000,000 US Digital Dollars.” “I understand. I’ll be paying in IMT.” He seemed to stand a little straighter at the sound of that. “All my money is on an exchange; do you have a computer I could use?” He pulled a tablet out of a drawer and handed it to me.

  Chapter 3

  I woke up looking at the blue sky. Fluffy clouds blew overhead and I took a deep breath. “I’m here. Finally,” I said to no one. I felt emotions bubbling up I thought long suppressed. They all converged to one overwhelming feeling, hope. What would I do? Who would I become? A chance at a new life. I wouldn’t be a criminal, no more bars, no more guards, no record, no videos on the internet of my trial, my pathetic tears at my sentencing, just freedom. A truly fresh start. I could be a shopkeeper, a hero, hell, maybe even a king. A small smile crept over my face.

  After a long time just lying in the grass and enjoying the breeze, I decided I needed to get the basics of the interface. I thought, “interface,” it appeared before me in a cerulean transparent glass hologram, two feet in front of my eyes. Once it opened a prompt appeared, “you have ten unused attribute points.” I contemplated using them, but I wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to go. I closed it and viewed the scaled down version of my troll body, my list of attributes on the left of him, and beneath that my racial traits which I read to myself again. My health, mana, and stamina bars were on the upper right and beneath those were five buttons: Inventory, spells, map, reputation, and settings. The buttons were faded gray except inventory and settings which protruded out from the glass wall. I thought “inventory” and it listed worn cotton tunic, worn cotton shorts, and rope belt. I pressed a square symbol on the side and the clothing I had on were now visible. Above the images of my clothing was how much money I had: 11 Mystic coins, 5 platinum, 7 gold, 5 silver and 0 copper. Which matched exactly the amount of IMT I gave them, 11,575. I can at least afford to buy a better outfit I thought and said “close interface.” The glass walled interface shattered and disintegrated. Then I got up to see where I was.

  As I rose I saw rows of tombstones all the way to the fence about a football field away. I approached the nearest one, there were characters to an alphabet engraved on it I couldn’t read, but above the scrawling’s was an engraving of a human woman's face. Then I went to the next tombstone, more engravings of the language I couldn’t read and above it the young face of a man carved into the stone. I walked the rows and they all had the faces of a human. It didn’t make any sense, I was a troll, this should be a troll graveyard. If this is a human region I might as well kill myself. In every fantasy book, movie, and video game humans loathe trolls. Upon that realization, I dropped down to the ground hoping I wasn’t seen. Crawling and using the tombstones for cover I made my way through the cut grass to the black barred, 20-foot-high gate. I pushed it open and it began to squeak. I’d stop and look, nothing. Then I pushed it open enough to slide through, all the while it squeaked. I stepped out not daring to close it behind me, and I ran down the side of the fence to the forest to the east. Behind me was a shout, “Troll!” I turned to see a man on a horse galloping full speed and spinning his flail at his hip. The smooth ball attached to the chain was a circular blur and the predatory look of the horseman burned into my mind. I was halfway across the clearing before I heard the thundering gallop of the horseman, and I turned just enough to see the metal ball fly at my head.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke with a small girl on my chest and my head throbbing. She said something to me, but I couldn’t decide if I didn’t understand her because of the concussion I surely had or she was speaking some incomprehensible language. Rubbing my head I saw she had strawberry blonde red hair and a face splotched with freckles. Two humans that looked like twins stood over me and I could smell the feet of the beardless dwarf whose face was directly over mine.

  A mini interface appeared in the corner of my vision.

  *You are no longer unconscious*

  *You are no longer dazed*

  I squeezed my eyes together hoping it would go away on its own and it did.

  The four spoke amongst each other in a language I couldn’t comprehend. The little girl turned and looked at me, “Hedow, wildowing helere. Sporkunga Basheeque.” I tried to speak, but only garble came out. Then I tried again but it sounded like I was just growling at her. I shook my head and put my palms up. “Sporkunga Basheeque,” she said again in her sweet child voice. My head began to pound again and I rubbed the lump the horseman gave me. I pushed myself back up to the wall. They all took spots far from me and sat down, except the little girl. She stared at me creepily, as if she was looking through me. I looked past her at the bars, out less than a month an already back in jail. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so depressed by this. But the feeling was familiar, even comfortable, bars, guards, cellmates. I’d get through it like I had be
fore.

  The girl snapped her fingers, getting my attention, then pointed at me. I ignored her and looked to the others, they seemed to be pretending to sleep. I knew the revival cost was a Mystic Coin, I looked in my inventory and no money was missing. I was relieved to see I didn’t die at least. The child was pointing at the ground in front of me. I gathered dirt in my hands as she began to draw something. If this was a trick I’d throw this dirt in her eyes I decided. As I watched her scratch at the packed dirt I contemplated how a little girl got into a jail cell. This was a fantasy world, no laws on age regarding right or wrong. She could be a player, but how’d she choose her age? If she could choose it why would she choose to be a child? But who am I to talk, I chose to be an eight-foot-tall, sharp toothed, green troll.

  The girl scratched out a line, then another, and another, forming an I. It took her ten minutes to make her second symbol, it appeared to be a 5. I 5. She pointed to her mouth and stretching it open and closed. “Intelligence 5,” I asked. She pointed at her mouth making exaggerated motions. I opened my interface. As I navigated the hologram she smiled and gave me a thumbs up.