The Mystic Miner

The wind whistled through the night sky. It carried with it a familiar scent. Oil. Sweat. concrete. Many would have found it abrasive. Repulsive even. They would be right. But to some, it was home, a familiar smell that brought back good memories. Painful memories sometimes. From beggars to crime lords, grocery baggers to small time executives. The only thing that was the same for all of them was that smog ridden air...

A lone man took it in, the breeze. It made him frown slightly. For him it was no welcome sensation. It was no long time friend. It was a prison, in much the same way the pine board balcony of his small apartment seemed to keep him locked in like some animal. That's how it seemed at least. The view didn't help from his meager third floor. All he could see was a brick wall of a warehouse straight ahead, and a narrow alley where all manner of shady dealings happened far below.

"Disgusting..." he thought, watching a homeless man pop a squat behind a dumpster. At almost the exact moment police sirens interrupted the 'quiet' of the night. If you could call it that. It was never really silent, in New Venice, far from it. Cars and people, machines and the steady hum of lights and generators everywhere filled the city with a stream of white noise.

The man took a step back from the narrow balcony and produced a lone cigarette from the pocket of his hoodie. His hand quivered, and he longed to put it in his mouth and take a sweet nicotine filled drag, but he couldn't. Not then, and not anytime in the near future. He reared his hand back and made to throw it into the alley below, but stopped himself. A part of him was trying hard not to let it go, to just have one more. He pushed down the urge and with a flourish he tossed it over the loose railing.

"I'll probably regret that..." he told himself, pushing back shoulder length black hair behind his ears. He turned then and walked back into his 'home'. He gave the small grungy room exactly what it deserved: a passing glance. Anything more than that and he would start to feel the depression sink in. No. He gave no thought to the small couch or the patchy paint, spotted with mold and mildew.

He passed through a worn doorway into a bedroom. Rather, what used to be his bedroom. Instead, all the furniture but a small wardrobe had been replaced by a massive machine. It lay like some futuristic coffin on the dingy carpet below.

He smiled then, and tried very hard to forget about cigarettes. The machine ahead would be taking up far too much of his time, he knew that. He knew that any sort of outside addiction would slow him down.

For there was far too much money on the line...

He glanced over at the wall, a small mechanical clock ticking away the hour: 7:57... 3 minutes. He grew more and more excited. It wasn't the sort of excitement others were experiencing. The millions upon millions of other who had the same machine as his.

Their excitement was for the adventure, the fun, the mystery and intrigue of a new world. 'Isteryn', the land of high fantasy. A new plane of existence. Come players! Enjoy the magic and wonder!

He knew it for what it really was, an opportunity. It was the first real opportunity he had to escape the poverty of his life.

Walking over he shakily pushed a small button on the side of the oval shaped machine, and stood back while a panel slid open. It revealed small steps leading up to what looked like a fairly comfortable bed, surrounded on all side by wiring and metal.

He laid down then, and pushed another button. 'Hisssss' the panel slid closed, encasing him in the soft blue glow of artificial lighting. It was oddly comfortable. He waited, and sure enough, the sensation came minutes later..

"Finally... It's time to put the plan into action..." he said to himself. All the while the world inside that metal box faded away, and he felt his consciousness being pulled into another realm entirely.

White...

Blinding white light...

Floating...

It was all he could discern from his surroundings. It seemed like he was suspended in some hallucination, like the near death experience people will say they've had. But then something came into view. Rather, a person. A woman...

They moved through the blinding light easily and it was comforting to have something to look at besides the infinite white. That something was truly beautiful as well... she was short, and had a long red dress that was ornately made. Her hair long and blonde, her eyes a stunning blue. But her smile was what drew him in. It was like the sun itself.

Her words flowed like honey into his ears as she spoke, "Welcome, adventurer... You stand in the doorway between worlds. Tell me, what is your name?..."

He was stunned for a moment. All the preparation he had done to ready himself for Isteryn seemed fruitless then. He thought he wouldn't be surprised by anything, but the first 30 seconds inside he was already blown away.

"Art" he said instinctively. He recoiled and instantly regretted it. It felt so real, so he gave his real name out of habit.

The woman smiled that brilliant smile and she repeated, "Art.." before continuing, "A good name... Tell me, Art, how do you wish to look?"

He said instantly, "like myself..." He didn't want to be different. He wasn't trying to role play an Orc or make himself look more handsome or anything like that. But more importantly he didn't want to waste time customizing his character. He had business to take care of, nothing else mattered.

"Very well... You will be dropped into Isteryn randomly..." she said. With a wave of her hand she disappeared, and the white light slowly faded, to reveal a blue sky above.

Art felt a wave of nausea as he watched the clouds drift by. To be honest, it took him quite a few moments to realize it was the sky. The whole experience was so odd. The wind whipping on his face roused him from the shock of it all and he looked around.

He was laying in tall green grass, that was soft and too thick to see past. He sat up and as he did so he took note of the heat of the ground in the mid day sun, the soft dirt in between his fingers. "This is a game?..." he thought to himself. "None of this is real?"... it was too hard to imagine the world around him being anything but. The lush green grass and trees all around seemed far more natural and real than the bleak cityscape he was used to.

"Beautiful..." he said out loud. It was a sight to behold. A sight he could only dream of. A sight that only rich people could experience in real life.

Some noises distracted him and he turned to his left to see a small village. There were a few people moving here and there, all human from the looks of it. A man was chopping wood next to a 'house'. It was more of a small hut. A woman carried two large buckets that made a sloshing sound as she moved.

This was an aspect he had read about before. Isteryn was a VRMMO that was run by an extremely advanced Artificial Intelligence. In short, the world was huge, and the characters and places were ever changing and full of depth, just like the real world.

One of the more frustrating things was that you didn't get to choose where you started, nor was he able to study beforehand any details about the cities or factions etc. because it was all kept secret for launch.

Art found himself in the middle of the woods next to a nothing village. He had hoped for better, such as starting in a city where he could get quests and money easier.

"No point in whining..." he told himself, standing up. He looked down and saw he was wearing a simple tan tunic and pants with leather boots. Otherwise, his body was the same as his real life counterpart.

He took amount before walking into the village to try something. "Menu" he said, as a holographic blue rectangle popped up into his field of vision.

[Name: Art] — [Class: None] — [Level: 1]

[Description: A weak human being with no distinguishable talents]

[Strength: 5]

[Vitality: 5]

[Endurance: 5]

[Agility: 5]

[Intelligence: 5]

[Wisdom: 5]

[Equipment]

-[Sack Cloth Clothes: 0 AC]-

[Abilities]

-[None]-

"Seems about right" he said to himself. It was the standard looking role playing game stats. The description made him frown though. "A weak human being with no talents???" He thought, he rubbed his head, hoping that everyone started with that description and that he wasn't just some unlucky weakling.

"Close menu" he said, turning back towards the village as the blue menu vanished. He took slow steps at first, feeling all the while that the sensation should somehow feel weird, or different, but it didn't... it felt... normal... the same as reality.

The heat began to quickly overwhelm Art. The blazing tendrils of the golden sun overhead licked at his skin, bringing the first beads of sweat as he approached the medieval village. By then several villagers had spotted his approach, namely, an old woman and the man who had been chopping wood.

The man stopped chopping and looked up, shouldering the iron axe on his rough spun tunic. He looked at Art with a questioning, definitely unfriendly gaze. It seemed to say, "what the hell are you doing here?"

Art returned the simple NPCs state with his own hard look. The man gripped his axe more tightly in response but seemed to calm down when Art said, "Hello, what village is this?"

The man seemed confused but answered slowly, "This is Red-Glen. I'm not quite sure who you are but we don't want any trouble around here. We are simple folk, not a coin to spare.."

The implication was understood by Art. The man seemed to think he might be part of some band of raiders, scouting out the village before attacking. He tried to ease the man's worries by coming more into view, showing he was unarmed and dressed no richer than he, "I don't want any trouble either... I seem to have lost my way in the woods. I lost all my goods too... If you could lend some shelter and maybe I can earn my keep. Or point me in the direction of the nearest city.."

The man stroked his beard and leaned on the small hit nearby. At that point other villagers had appeared from their homes and were standing at a weary distance, eavesdropping with all the craftiness of a bull in a china shop.

"Hmm... with those worn boots and no food you would be hard pressed to make it to GreyFall... It's a 1 week's ride on horseback... on foot... maybe 3?"

Art's heart sank... His luck with his starting point was the worst. A small village full of impoverished nobodies. Not to mention the fact that the closest town of any kind was weeks away... probably hundreds of miles at least...

"Aah..." the man said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. Art looked up at him, realizing he had sunken into his own thoughts. "Redford!" The man called out loudly, turning to look at a small old man with a rough cane. Well, if you could call it that. It looked more like a thick branch of a tree.

The old man hobbled over slowly, he stopped near the bearded man and said, "Yes jack?"

"You know of any work we could give here to... aah... what's your name?"

"Art.."

"Aah Art here... he's lost his goods and his way, and could use some help before he resumes his journey." The old man seemed to think for a minute, nodding along to Jack's words before speaking slowly himself,

"I don't think there's anything in the village to do... we can barely feed ourselves... but.... That old bastard may have some work yet. He's still out at the cliffs I think."

At that point a menu popped up in front of Art, startling him slightly. It looked a lot like the status menu from earlier but smaller, and simply said:

[Quest]

[Find the Old Bastard in the cliffs]

[Difficulty: D]

[Accept? Y/N]

He stared at the blue rectangle for a moment. The difficulty was what bothered him. From what he had gathered from his research before joining Isteryn, quests were divided into tiers based off of difficulty. Most beginner quests were Tier F, the easiest. Tier A was the most difficult. He wasn't sure whether he should take on a Tier D as a level 1 but looking around the village, he wasn't sure he had a choice.

Reluctantly, he used his finger to push [Y]. Immediately, the old man seemed to understand as he continued to speak, "Alright then young man... The cliffs are a half day's walk that way. And be careful in the woods, especially near the cliffs themselves... It can be dangerous."

Art thanked the old man and said goodbye to Jack and turned to leave. He was a little annoyed he still didn't have any food or weapons or anything, but wasn't surprised either. The villagers were much too poor to be handing out any real aid. He was thankful they had been nice enough to give him any sort of help. They could just have easily driven him out of town by... Well by axe for one...

Art made his way towards the edge of the wood and turned one more time to look back at the village. They seemed happy there, and he wondered if he could have that one day. He shook his head and slapped his face, "Focus Art... No time for fun and games..."

He looked into the forest, and saw naught but tree after tree. It was dense, and very dark underneath the canopies of the oak and birch there. The smell of grass and wildflowers from before was replaced with something more foul, more musty and earthy... Like mold or a wet towel... It gave the woods a very dubious atmosphere, and he knew then that the way ahead was not going to be a cake walk....