Gamers Gate

Gamers Gate

  A novel by J. Scott Garibay

  Copyright 2010

  [email protected]

  Chapter 01

  Footfall

  From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

  (Redirected from First Contact)

  Formally known as the Cairnhist First Contact event, Footfall is the term used to indicate the moment that Stephen Cairnhis,Max Esso, Cynthia Mullen andDerek Burgast stepped foot on Thrycion after coming through the portal in Mount Gibbes (also know as the “Gamers Gate”) on Wednesday, April 6, 2011.While Christopher Korbach set foot on Thrycion 42 years prior to this date, Footfall is recognized as the event that set into motion the exchange of culture, commerce and communication that would accelarate between Thrycion and Earth, creating the current “magitech” age.

  Stephen steps through the portal carefully, leaving Earth and entering Thrycion. Max, Derek and Cynthia follow as he leads them the short distance to the exit of the cave and out onto a mountain ledge overlooking a medieval city. They stand in quiet awe of the sight before them.

  Max and Cynthia remove their expensive, full camping backpacks. Derek glances back at the mouth of the cave entrance to watch the white-blue glow of the closing portal shimmer and fade. He flicks his cigarette at the sight. His vintage 60's black leather cafe racer jacket and three days of stubble are distinctly different from the jeans, sneakers and windbreakers worn by his college student friends.

  Small dragons ridden by lance-carrying knights are visible circling above the city below. The city sprawls for over a mile toward a crystal blue ocean where hundreds of ships approach and depart.

  "I can't believe this! Those are Flike riders!" Stephen sits down and covers his mouth in disbelief. He closes his eyes and recites the text from memory. "The Flike is the magical companion of his or her rider. Armor class 7 hide, 26 hit points. The Flike can carry two riders and 40 pounds of equipment."

  Cynthia places her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Their hides are impervious to arrows but they will not approach closer than 50 feet to an open flame."

  Max crouches next to Stephen, "It's incredible. I didn't believe you. I couldn't believe."

  Cynthia shakes her head. "It was all real, everything. The Blade & Bolt Roleplaying Game, the B&B Novels - they were all an encyclopedia of Thrycion, this world. Our weekly roleplaying game was all based on this? "

  "Don't sit there geeking. We need to be moving. They will probably close the city gates at nightfall. We still have at least a thousand feet to climb down and two or three miles to travel to get there," Derek pulls his pack on tighter, takes a short swig from his water bottle.

  The group adjusts their packs, getting ready to move, all except Stephen. He pulls an inhaler out of his pack and sucks in a dose. It is obvious that being overweight has made this journey difficult for him. The three stand quietly around him until without a word Derek scoops up Stephen's pack and starts down the mountain again. Stephen scrambles up and follows.

  The slope of the mountain is steep, but manageable, no ropes are necessary. Each member of the group backs down the mountain with feet and hands clutching at small tree trunks, rocks, or crevices. Tall pines grow in patches of lush green grass broken every thirty feet or so by huge, jutting areas of rock where the mountain cuts through. There are more trees and a softer slope as the group descends.

  Cynthia takes Stephen's bag for Derek. They start out again after a brief respite with Max leading.

  Max's back is toward the foot of the mountain as he descends. The group freezes as they look down the mountain slope past Max.

  Max squints, "What?"

  Sixty feet beyond Max is the hulking form of a Korg. A dozen feet in length and dark green, its scaly wet hide blends perfectly with the forest around it. It works its mandible lazily, exposing a maw of gleaming white fangs. The creature has the size and movement of a bear but its long thin tongue and the fast erratic twitching of its massive head are like that of a snake. The creature's six legs each end in a massive grouping of long talons to grasp the mountain with the dexterity of a clawed hand.

  Stephen, Cynthia and Derek see the creature but Max has his back to it.

  Max shifts and pebbles and twigs twist under his foot. A shrill roar echoes behind Max. He turns to see what the group is staring at. The Korg arches its back.

  Stephen bolts, running horizontally across the mountain. Cynthia stands frozen. Max lets out a startled yelp and begins scrambling up the mountain.

  Derek takes off his backpack and shoves his hand down beneath the flap top. The Korg charges up the mountain slope, all six legs lifting it up the mountain toward Max. Max screams, tumbles and begins rolling down the mountain slope, at an angle toward the Korg. As Max rolls downward the report of a firearm echoes across the mountain. Derek now holds a black automatic pistol. A patch of bright red appears on the Korg. The Korg stops, stands upright and roars at Derek.

  Derek fires six more shots in quick succession. Small explosions of red spray out from the Korg's hide. The Korg is enraged. It surges forward closing the gap between it and Derek.

  Carefully and smoothly, Derek walks down the slope toward the charging Korg firing as he goes. The bark of a tree directly behind the Korg explodes outward, but more patches of red coat the Korg. The Korg stops, howls in pain and slowly stands again to its full height. Derek stops also, levels his arm and empties the last round of his weapon into the Korg's head. The Korg falls backwards and rolls down the mountain until it thuds against a tree.

  Cynthia regains her composure and calls for Stephen to return. Max picks himself up and approaches Derek.

  Cynthia stumbles awkwardly down the slope to catch up to Derek, "Derek! Where did you get that?"

  Derek ignores Cynthia and continues down the mountain. Derek thumbs the release, lets the magazine drop to the ground and smacks a second clip into his firearm.

  Max responds to Cynthia but his eyes never leave Derek, "Tools of his trade. He's a drug dealer, remember, Cynthia?"

  Derek turns and glares at Max. "Not right now, Max. Not right now."

  Max glares back and Cynthia steps between the two.

  Stephen approaches and dusts his pants legs off clumsily. "Glock 21, automatic, nine millimeter. Fourteen in the clip, one in the chamber if my t10 Modern RPG memory serves. Good thing you brought it."

  Derek nods and continues down toward the Korg, "I brought three."

  Max throws his pack down. "Three! You shouldn't have brought any guns. This world doesn't have that kind of technology."

  Derek scowls, "This ain't Star Trek, college boy. We're not bound by a Prime Directive and unless you have a longsword hidden up your nether region we are going to need every gun I brought."

  "Yeah, well excuse me if my college studies taught me that violence begets violence. I guess learning didn't give me as much opportunity to shoot people as drug dealing gave you, Derek."

  The group circles the Korg keeping a safe distance. The Korg is crumpled around a tree trunk, its head lolled to the ground. Derek starts around the tree to get a better look at the creature.

  The group join him in examining the Korg. Its hide is peppered with ten gunshot wounds. The Korg twitches and gives a long sad groan. It is obvious the creature is suffering. Derek runs his fingers through his hair and exhales. Max turns away. Cynthia shakes her head and puts her hand out to Derek. Derek hands the Glock to her. Without hesitation Cynthia approaches and lowers the weapon to the heaving beast's head. Stephen jumps at the sound.

  Cynthia hands the weapon back, "Eighty-four hit points? I don't think so."

  EARTH - APPROACHING MILWAUKEE - TWO MONTHS BEFORE FOOTFALL

  Max shifts his tuner import into fourth and passes a tractor-trailer at 80 mph. Stephen nibbles
at his snacks nervously in the cramped backseat. Cynthia looks road weary from hours of travel, " No, no, no, NO! You don't just charge thirty trogs without waiting for the group to decide together how to attack."

  "I was just playing my character, " Max says at her, without taking his eyes off the road. "Brolch is a Golon warrior. 2,000 pounds of ruby-laced granite. He was built for battle and I am not going to have him sit around waiting for everyone to come up with a perfect little plan. "

  Cynthia turns toward the backseat, "Stephen, tell him he is being disruptive to the game. We got thoroughly stomped by those trogs. We beat them, yes. But our characters took so much damage my cleric couldn't even heal everyone to full. My character lost her Cloak of Camouflage. That's a major magic item to lose in a fight with trogs."

  Stephen takes his focus off of the skyscrapers streaming toward them, "Oh, no. I'm not getting in the middle of this. I'm a gamemaster. It is my job to challenge your player characters in every adventure. Fortunately, it is your job as players to handle your own party politics."

  Max brakes and frowns at the backup his decaled street-racer is quickly approaching, " Well, not all the players are here, are they?"

  Cynthia stretches against the custom Recaro seat, "Man, what is your beef with Derek? You gotta let it go already."

  "He's not one of us, Cynthia. Come' on, Stephen, my roomie is still asking if he can run a character in our campaign. Lose that reprobate and bring my roommate in."

  Cynthia shakes her head, "One of us? What exactly are we? What is Derek not one of?"

  "Gamers, Cynthia. We are gamers, fan-boys, sci-fi geeks. You know what we are. We are the guys who get every new roleplaying game that comes out. We are the guys that have boxes of comics perfectly bagged and back-boarded in our closets. We are the guys who sleep on sidewalks to get the first tickets for epic sci-fi/fantasy films. Now how does Derek fit into our group? Gun maintenance and money-laundering really don't count as hobbies."

  Deep reverb shutters through the after-market exhaust system as Stephen opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Cynthia. " Just say it. Just say what you think Derek is, if he's not one of us."

  Max does not hesitate. "He's a drug dealer."

  The downshifting groan quiets as Stephen and Cynthia exchange glances.

  Max shifts into neutral and coasts, "Come on. He's 20 years old, has no job, drives a $40,000 car. Do any of you have his phone number? Any of you ever been to his place? He plays B&B with us but we interact with him in no other way, ever. And I hear things man. Do the math. "

  Stephen begins to stuff candy bags into the backpack next to him. " Yes, you're right. Derek is a drug dealer. I know that. But I didn't know that when I invited Derek into our campaign six months ago and now well... Well, now Derek is a friend. You are right. Derek is not one of us but he is a friend. Max, you play B&B because you like the hack and slash. Cynthia, you play because you like the roleplaying aspects of the game, becoming that character in speech and thought. I think Max plays so that for 4 hours a week he can be a hero that helps people. What's wrong with that?"

  Max's frustration is evident as he lets the force of his street-racer unwind, "What's wrong with that? A lot, Stephen. A lot. Roleplaying a hero once a week doesn't wash away being a predator the rest of the week, Stephen. I thought your "Christian Values" would have taught you that if nothing else."

  "Christ ate with the prostitutes and drunkards as well as his followers. Am I better than Christ? Seriously, Max, I understand your objection to Derek playing and if you can honestly say that you feel yourself or Cynthia are personally in danger from Derek than I will ask him to leave the group. Can you honestly say that?"

  "No. I know you respect all the members of our roleplaying group enough to not expose us to outright danger. You proved that with the way you handled the whole Philly LARP situation last spring. It's why we are table-top only now. OK. Stephen, I trust you on Derek's continued inclusion in our group but I tell you, like the tag line from DeadWalker's Wild West RPG 'A reckonin' is comin'."

  Chapter 02