Dreaming Orora Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, organizations, locations and events are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  For Mom, who made me who I am today.

  And my wife who enables me to continue to be who I am today.

  1 - Warden of the East

  2 – the dream, the nightmare

  3 – Meet the party

  4 – Oriental addition

  5 – Enters the Wizard

  6 – One against all

  7 – Boy who cried wolf

  8 – Help wanted

  9 – The screams

  10 – The quest

  11 – The quest 2

  12 - The Champions Tournament

  13 – The dark march

  14 – Prison break

  15 – When allies meet

  16 – Ending the quest

  17 – The Dome

  18 – I hate the rain

  19 – friend or foe?

  20 – A deal with the devil

  21 – Ashes to ashes

  22 – The people’s justice

  23 – Homecoming

  24 – Life amidst all

  25 – Know they enemy

  26 – The army at the gate

  27 – The B-Hunterz

  28 – The cat is out of the bag

  29 – Now or never

  30 – Flying target

  31 – Even the best laid plans

  32 – Meet and greet

  33 – The quest 3

  34 – What’s in a name?

  35 – Before the meet up

  36 – Beautiful things

  37 – Siege

  38 – Wandering hero

  39 – The war at hand

  40 – Transport job

  41 – an unfavorable encounter

  42 – A welcomed death

  43 – only one chance

  44 – The dark calling

  45 – Run and hide

  46 – Of Fire and Steel

  47 – Breaking and entering

  48 – The Reaper

  49 – a light where darkness ruled

  50 – Rain and thunder

  51 – Death

  Epilogue

  Confirming identity...

  Scanning iris… scan complete, identity confirmed…

  Initializing environment… complete…

  Ready to dream…

  1 - Warden of the East

  Bale scanned the horizon beyond the fence, searching. Alas, too little too late. Nothing but green blades of grass danced to the tune of the gentle wind. A good sign any other time, any other day. Never did he wish so much to see Hywars attacking his outpost.

  “Did you manage to get a good look at them? Are they Hywars?” Bale said.

  “Can’t tell, Warden,” said Garth, the archer in charge of the west watchtower. The tall, slender man stood a good foot over Bale. Surly if he couldn't see anything, how could Bale? “They disappeared before we could get a good look at them. Although I have to say, they didn't act anything like those birds.”

  Bale nodded. He kept his gaze beyond the waist-high fence. Still nothing but climbing trees over rolling green hills. The sun bled and sank halfway in the horizon.

  Bale recalled, with dread, murmurs of an army swooping around nearby areas, leveling villages and cities in their wake. The fear mongers dubbed it the return of the dark army. Bale and his men gave those rumors no mind and dismissed them for what they were, just rumors. After all, Recruits’ words meant nearly nothing to him.

  But when those dark creatures started knocking their doors, the rumors started to ring some resemblance of truth. A dread started to take form at the back of his head. For now he saw not an army, just the stray soldier or two.

  Bale led a unit in a small outpost on the eastern region of the Kingdom of Galawar; a small piece of land in a rolling meadow, equipped with a few tents and a campfire to huddle around for when those cold nights really bit. Two raised wooden platforms, their watchtowers, provided vantage points to the east and west. They raised their colors, the golden flying eagle of Galawar, atop the tallest post and called it home.

  Small as it may be and tossed on the outreaches of the kingdom, it was home. And Bale was the Warden. His duty, to keep the birdlike humanoid beasts known as Hywars at bay, and he wouldn't fail the trust given to him by the kingdom.

  “When are we expecting the next attack?” Bale said.

  “If the attacks followed the same pattern, in an hour, Sir.”

  “Let me know at first sighting.”

  Bale walked away from the watchtower towards the training grounds. The call from the watchtower earlier interrupted a good session of sword fighting. Time to get back. He craned his head and saw his men engaged in friendly spars from here. A smile formed on his face, perhaps he overworked himself over nothing.

  A group of Recruits blocked his vision, laughing it up and punching one another. No sense of responsibility or respect for him, the Warden of the East. Their amalgamation of armor and clothes set them apart from his soldiers. Bale didn't expect much from outsiders who thought of his land as nothing more than a source of entertainment, a pastime. He’d sooner see the likes of those people hanged from the walls of the Common City in Galawar rather than depending on them for words or help protect his outpost.

  “Warden,” a voice screamed at his back. Bale turned around and saw Garth beckoning, “they are back.”

  “Don't attack just yet,” Bale said and started towards the tower. Another attack this soon? Could it be those dark figures again? Hywars? He wished for the later while his legs raced one another.

  He reached the fence and craned his neck for a better view. He counted at least ten figures charging towards them. No formation or plan of attack, just dark shadows in a green field moving closer to them in no particular order or pattern. The lack of organization troubled him more than their numbers. No army camped at their doorsteps, no messengers came to negotiate, just the odd group of unorganized, unruly attackers.

  “Sir?” Garth said, sweat visible on the man’s forehead. The other four archers focused on the targets with arrows at the ready. Two more stood atop the watchtower.

  “Wait for it,” Bale said. He needed to know what were they dealing with.

  “Sir?” Garth said, his tone heightened in concern.

  “Wait for it.”

  The dark figures showed no signs of slowing down. Bale looked at his archers, then the attackers once more. Surely they could see the archers with their bows at the ready? Yet, they charged head on. Getting closer still.

  “Fire!”

  The first wave of arrows whizzed through the air hitting the closest four attackers. The figures tumbled and rolled before coming to a stop. The remaining runners gave no mind to their falling comrades or tried to avoid or block the second wave of arrows. Hywars don’t do that.

  The next wave of arrows flew and brought down five attackers with it. The last of the attackers managed to break his way into the outpost. Bale had drawn his sword when the attacker leapt over the fence, but the archers managed to fill him with arrows before he crashed to the ground. The soldiers, alongside Bale, gathered over the lifeless body.

  The dark, corroded armor gave Bale no pause, the body hidden behind it did. It looked less human, or beast, and more a black painted figure. No features or details, just an outline. It broke into fragments and dissolved into thin air.

  “What are those things?” a thin archer named Lock stuttered.

  “Heavens if I know,” Bale said, “had I not seen it with my own eyes, I’d say such things don’t exist.”

  “We need to get word to the kingdom, Warden,” Lock said.

  “There is nothing here we can’t h
andle,” Bale said, “we’ll not involve the kingdom in a pathetic attempt of an attack. We managed bigger and more organized attacks by Hywars.”

  “But sir, Recruits are-”

  “-Recruits are none of our concern. Nor do we depend on their help.”

  “Warden,” a voice called behind him. Bale turned around to see Ely, a soldier from the eastern tower, taking a second to catch his breath; “We need you at the eastern tower, now.”

  Bale turned his gaze eastwards. The outpost was small enough to see every part of it wherever he stood. The east tower appeared peaceful from where he stood.

  “Another attack?” Bale said.

  “Something else,” the soldiers voice faltered.

  The men exchanged a concerned look.

  Bale bolted eastwards, “let’s move.”

  A second attack within a small timeframe? Hywars perhaps? Or Recruits? Whatever the case, he needed to get there and fast. He charged up the hill and raced across the training grounds to the eastern fence. His heavy breath fogged the air. In hindsight, perhaps he should not have rushed his way and called the others along. Worrying lines crept on the faces of those he passed. Everyone stopped whatever he or she was doing to follow him with his or her gazes.

  “Warden,” a watcher atop the tower turned to face him as Bale closed in, “you need to see this.”

  A large shadow, stretching as far as Bale could see, oozed its way towards them. Bale’s stomach sank. This was no random or a small attack by some thugs. A dark sea ate the green meadow before them. His heart skipped a beat. No time to think. If he thought against it earlier, he’ll need to inform The Kingdom now. The dark army was rumor no more.

  “Sound the horns,” Bale told the soldier atop the tower

  The color went out of the man’s face, “yes Warden.” The man stumbled back and grabbed a horn off the wooden beam behind him. He faced the camp and blew.

  A rush broke throughout the outpost as soldiers raced to grab their weapons and armor while the horn echoed in the background. Bale shuffled a few scenarios in his head all of which ended in them being overrun by those dark creatures. While so far they appeared dumb and unorganized, their sheer numbers could easily make out for it. They only needed to run through the outpost to level it to the ground.

  A thundering screech brought everyone to a halt.

  Bale scanned the horizon. It didn’t come from the advancing army’s direction. Another shriek came, closer this time. Some men cringed and others covered their ears. Something above pulled Bale’s attention. A shadow slithered its way between the clouds.

  “What is that?” Elly said. Bale shook his head.

  The shadow darted downwards and crashed in the middle of the outpost with a huge thud. The ground lurched and shook. A dust haze covered the northern part of the outpost.

  “Get the healers,” Bale told Elly and charged towards the impact. “Everyone else, to me.”

  He stopped few feet away from the dust cloud. For a moment nothing but an ominous low growl came from it. Other men joined Bale, weapons at the ready.

  A deafening roar cleared the dust and revealed a huge behemoth behind it. Black scales sucked all the light, expansive wings stretched to the skies, long thick slithering neck and deep crimson eyes. A ruler of the sky, a dragon. It towered ten feet above the men. Bale’s ears throbbed from the roar and his vision blurred.

  The beast craned its neck, twisted it left and right, inhaled, and roared once more. The air vibrated between its dark edged blades of teeth. Bale and his men stumbled back.

  A dragon? Not since The Age of Heroes was such beast sighted. Not since Dragon Stone. Bale saw terrified faces his men rarely exhibit. A fear they won’t display even when death called.

  A figure jumped off the dragon and landed with cat-like reflexes. The beast held a two seconds gaze with the figure then pushed away from the ground, sending dust and pebbles every which way and soared to the sky. Bale lowered his head and covered his face with his right arm. When he lowered his arm the beast was no more.

  The figure stood alone surrounded by soldiers. Bale couldn't call it a man, more like an apparition than flesh and blood, a placeholder. Black flames danced off his dark skin and hair. This man like figure dismissed a dragon before facing trained soldiers. Bale felt a stab of fear creeping inside him.

  “Bale,” a deep voice whispered in Bale’s head. “Warden of the East.” The dark slash on the figure’s face suggestive of a mouth didn’t move.

  The soldiers raised their weapons, pointing them at the dark figure. He tilted his head to one side and raised an arm. A smoke column appeared before him, coercing itself into a scythe. Large wooden snatch attached to an equally large blade. No nibs or handles. It slashed the air and a specter cloaked in black popped into existence and grabbed a hold of the scythe. Behind the cloaks, only deeper darkness.

  “The Reaper,” Bale said under his breath.

  The Reaper turned to see the dark man who just summoned him, nodded, then blazed towards the closest three men and slashed. One parried, another flinched back, and the third froze in shock. The scythe went through everything, blades and flesh, left nothing but smoke behind it. No wounds, blood or dead bodies.

  Bale grabbed the two men next to him and pulled them back, “run!”

  “No sir,” Rob said, the young man towered a good two feet over Bale, yet he was shaking in his boots. “We die with you here.”

  “This is not where we die,” Bale said putting a hand on Rob’s shoulder. “Now run, it’s an order, get the others out. Head for the next outpost. We need to get word to the kingdom.”

  The two young men nodded and dashed away.

  Bale turned around to warn the others. The Reaper stood before him and raised his gigantic scythe. Bale raised his shield bracing for impact. All he heard was a snap of a finger and The Reaper turned to smoke with a small puff.

  Behind his shield, the dark figure tilted his head to one side and grinned ear to ear.

  Dreaming Orora: To Dream Orora is to be engulfed within this living and breathing world. You are not simply playing; you are living another life, a better life. We ask that you please don't let it bleed into your mortal life (not too much.)

  Remember to always wake up every once in a while. Don't forget your family, friends and loved ones. You can also make them Dream along.

  2 – the dream, the nightmare

  A familiar projection of a character stood before Jack, clad in blue rags and a long jet-black hair. The word Alkaizer appeared on the lower left side highlighted by a blue faint light. To the lower right side, few lines on a smaller fonts displayed basic information about the character, but that’s not what grabbed Jack’s attention.

  Above Alkaizer the letters Hok hovered all in white. He couldn't recall it being white few hours back. He focused on the word and the faint selection light highlighted Hok.

  Jack stood straight in his seat, spine erect. How could this be?

  A small red box flashed in the corner of his eyes. “Doorbell” a message crossed his vision. The sounds of the door bill started ringing in his ears.

  Jack pressed a button on the side of the Virtual Reality Rig and a “Going to sleep” message popped on the screen. Everything went black and the sounds around him started to assault his ears. Cars, trains, people, and the usual cacophony you’d expect living in a downtown Chicago apartment.

  Jack pulled the helmet-like Rig off his head and placed it on a small table next to him. He pulled a lever on the side of his recliner bringing it up to the setting position, sighed and jumped off the chair with a grunt. Although his mind was fooled into thinking for the last few hours that he did some moving around, his muscles stiffness suggested otherwise. Dreaming Orora for long couldn’t be good for the health.

  He looked through the door peephole, a familiar face stood at the other side. He snapped few locks off and pulled the door open. “Eric,” he closed in for a warm embrace, “how long has it been man?”

&
nbsp; Eric rolled his eyes, “well, since you know…”

  “Yeah, don't answer that,” Jack waved a dismissal arm at him.

  On closer inspection, Eric looked thinner, older than the last time they met. Cheekbones more prominent on his pale skin. More grey peppered his head. Jack led him in.

  The living room consisted of a reclining chair with a small table attached to it, where the VRR sat comfortably, and a small sofa. If anyone had to guess, they’d say Jack just moved in recently, but that was not the case. Jack spent most of his free time in Orora; he didn’t see much use of any other furniture in the real world. In fact his persona in Orora used to have more furniture than himself in the real world.

  “The place looks…” Eric paused, “good?”

  “Functional for this world,” Jack pointed at the sofa, “so, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Eric collapsed on the sofa, “I-”

  “-Before anything, what do you drink?”

  Eric rocked his legs, “I’m ok man, just have a seat. Please.” Jack took his time sitting on his recliner noticing the sudden seriousness in Eric’s tone. “I know this might be sudden, but I need your help, Jack. She, um,” his voice faltered, “needs your help.”

  Jack furrowed his eyebrows, “anything man.”

  “Well,” Eric paused, “I need… him.”

  “Him?” Jack smiled, “don't open old wounds man, you know it’s not up to me.”

  “I know, but I kind of,” Eric sighed then turned his gaze towards the VRR, “I’m sure you logged in recently?”

  Jack turned his head towards the VRR. He did log in recently. He almost always was logged in. what could Eric mean?

  “I’m sorry man,” Eric said, “they said it must be him.”

  “Eric. What the hell is going on? Who are ‘they’?”

  Eric’s head faced down. If Jack knew anything, he knew that look. A broken man sat before him. “ODI. They agreed to reinstate him provided that you help me with this.”

  ODI, Orora Development Inc., the larger than life company behind the biggest Massively Multiplayer Online game Orora. “I still don’t get it,” Jack said, “What the hell is going on?”