Gamer's Gate by J. Scott Garibay

Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 license on 04/29/2006.

Email: scott.garibay@gmail.com

Chapter 01

FOOTFALL

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 over looking 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 Role Playing 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.