Never Split the Party Read online

  Never Split The Party

  Middang3ard™ Book One

  Ramy Vance

  Michael Anderle

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Ham Alnijjar, the guy

  who taught me that entire worlds can exist

  in the role of a twenty-sided die.

  —Ramy Vance

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Never Split The Party (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2019 by Ramy Vance & Michael Anderle

  Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

  http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 1.0, August 2019

  ISBN 978-1-64202-397-8 (ebook)

  ISBN 978-1-64202-398-5 (paperback)

  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 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Author Notes

  Other books by Ramy Vance

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  The Never Split The Party Team

  Thanks to our beta readers

  Sarah Weir, Nicole Emens, Mary Morris, Kelly O'Donnell, Larry Omans, and John Ashmore

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Dave Hicks

  Diane L. Smith

  Jeff Eaton

  Deb Mader

  Crystal Wren

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Misty Roa

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  1

  Today the Expansion would be announced, and Myrddin Emrys felt an emotion he hadn’t experienced in nearly three thousand years.

  Nervous.

  It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and the guests were beginning to trickle into the auditorium. Dignitaries and delegates from across the world looked around with disappointment.

  This was where Myrddin Emrys, the richest man in the world, had summoned all the world leaders? They had expected something grand. Something awe-inspiring.

  Instead, world leaders—all of the world’s leaders, to be precise—were welcomed to a plain-looking theater with stark white walls.

  Sure, the desks were labeled with the names of the countries and sovereignties, but the placards were a simple white, with the dignitaries’ names hastily written in black marker.

  Still, they entered.

  Such was the respect most of them carried for Myrddin. Or maybe it was respect for the game he had created: the virtual world of Middang3ard, where over seventy percent of the world’s population—the world’s voting population—spend the majority of their day.

  As the last few entered, the auditorium quickly fell into a silence as close to death as possible for over two hundred breathing bodies. They waited in anticipation for Myrddin to enter.

  Most of them, that is.

  “Where the fuck is he?” growled the newly-elected US President.

  One of his security guards hurriedly bent over and whispered something in his ear. From the look on the President’s face, he was being scolded. Whatever the guard said, it worked, because the President sulked back into his chair, pouting as he waited.

  Myrddin Emrys shook his head as he watched them from backstage through the disturbed surface of the water in his scrying pool, which was set in a giant black cast iron cauldron.

  The cauldron not only showed him what was happening, it also revealed what was being felt by the leaders. The ancient sorcerer was hit by a wave of emotions that were a mixture of confusion, anticipation, and fear.

  Today, Myrddin thought, I’ll finally get to see if all my centuries of planning and preparing have paid off.

  He doubted it. He doubted anything could prepare them for what would come next.

  He had hoped there would be more time, but in the last six months, the Dark One had become far more aggressive, conquering one world and destroying another. Whatever the Dark One’s plans were, they were accelerating, which meant Myrddin had no more time to prepare.

  He needed to act now.

  Earth needed to act now.

  Waving a hand over the scrying pool’s surface, he watched as the faces of the dignitaries blurred together into a massing of black figures marching, converging into one shape—a black amalgamation that stood to the height of a tower.

  Orcs, trolls, ogres, and all manner of the Dark One’s forces were amassing. Soon they would overrun Middang3ard.

  The real Middang3ard.

  And when Middang3ard fell, Earth would soon follow.

  The old wizard had protected his home and fellow humans for as long as he could. He had also prepared them for a war of magic and mythical creatures through games, stories, and legends that most humans believed to be make-believe.

  He had prepared them as best he could through his game, something that VR uniquely allowed.

  Through the game, millions of humans had learned how to swing a sword, cast a spell, and navigate the complex inner workings of the real Middang3ard.

  But was it enough? No, of course not. A game was just a game. The real thing was…well, real.

  A fact, humans would learn quickly enough.

  But if Earth was to survive the Dark One, he needed soldiers to come to Middang3ard to fight the Dark One’s forces.

  He needed adventurers. Heroes.

  Human heroes.

  Perhaps then, and only then, could they stop the Dark One from invading their home. That, too, he doubted, but better to fight and try than submit and die.

  However, to get any of that, he first needed to convince these world leaders that the threat was real. To make them understand that they needed to commit resources—serious resources—if there were to be any hope of defeating the Dark One.

  That would take time, and tonight was just one step. But while these human leaders were taking their time committing their forces, Myrddin would start to recruit his own army.

  He sighed as he mentally prepared himself for what was to come next. He needed to persuade the world leaders, and that required proof.

  “Fine,” Myrddin snarled as h
e slammed his hand into the water’s surface, destroying the image of the Dark One’s army. “They will have their proof, for tonight I will take all of them to Middang3ard to breath its air, touch its soil, and taste the blood of all those who have fallen to protect its hallow grounds. Tonight, I will release the Expansion.”

  2

  Robert “Suzuki” Fletcher stared into the flames of his campfire, his avatar’s kite shield resting against his knee, as he ran a whetstone over the edge of his sword. The stone gave off a soft, almost crystalline hum as he went about his work.

  Suzuki knew he was sharpening a virtual blade. That his hand, encased in its virtual reality glove, was empty back in his apartment as he ran it over nothing. But it felt so real, the stone resistant against the hardness of the blade. Of course, it was just his VR suit’s exoskeleton hardening to give the illusion of resistance…not that he really cared.

  In the game, sharpening his sword would increase his percentage chance of success, and right now he needed any edge he could get.

  Pun intended.

  He also needed to think, and the methodical repetition helped clear his mind.

  After all, he was in the Expansion of Middang3ard, and the gamemasters hadn’t made it easy. He and his fellow party members—the Mundanes—had been here for days, trying to puzzle out how to enter the Expansion’s temple.

  And they weren’t alone.

  Throughout the forest, dozens of small campfires burned as if the other players were trying to light the earth on fire to fight against the blackness of the firmament hanging above. Players crowded around the fire as they nursed their wounds and spoke in soft murmurs.

  Even though there were hundreds of adventurers, most of them allies, Suzuki had never felt more unsafe in Middang3ard than he did at that moment.

  Suzuki stopped running the stone along the blade, silencing the hum, and turned his ear toward the tree line, trying to listen for danger.

  But the forest sounds of Middang3ard were an indecipherable blur next to the hushed whispers from the other camps.

  Being huddled together in such a group made everything too loud.

  Safety in numbers, he mused. But then again, if they were away from the group, they wouldn’t be such a large target, and they could, well, listen for danger.

  Suzuki really wasn’t sure which would be best, alone or in a group, and, figuring that it was half a dozen on the one hand and six on the other, he went back to his thoughts and his blade as he tried to figure out how to solve the secret to opening the door to the Expansion.

  Beth, Stew, and Sandy were sitting by the fire, no longer bantering. They’d all been there for hours and were getting bored, as Stew made clear when he stood up and yawned. “I can’t keep doing this. I mean, I got a life.”

  Beth smirked. “What life? This is our life.” Of all the Mundanes, she was the most dedicated to the game. “I mean, you deliver pizza, I’m a telemarketer, and Sandy here…what do you do again?”

  “I’m part of a marketing enterprise dedicated to fulfilling your make-up and accessory needs.”

  “In other words, you’re part of some pyramid scheme?”

  Sandy nodded. “That I am.”

  Beth pointed the dagger she had been using to whittle a virtual twig at Stew. “So, what life do you need to get back to, exactly?”

  Stew cracked his neck. “Whatever. My point stands. We should be doing something.”

  Sandy threw some twigs into the fire. “Sitting is something.”

  Stew “Leeroy Jenkins” Harris rolled his eyes. He was a good head taller than anyone else in the party, his massive body perfect for the role of barbarian. He stood and started to pace. The loose animal skin that covered him swayed to his movement so realistically that one might believe they were actually in a forest and not at home, strapped into VR suits.

  Beth “GameOver” Lovett glared at Stew, putting back her dagger before pulling out her sword and pointing it in Leeroy’s direction.

  Her armor was not as heavily plated as Suzuki’s, but still thick enough to offer a good amount of protection. “Don’t you fucking dare start, douche nozzle.” She pushed back her short-clipped hair, exposing the handful of small scars that covered her left cheek. “Do you remember what happened on the last raid when you started to get all antsy?”

  Stew shrugged. “If I remember correctly, it was me pulling goblins off of your ass.”

  “Because you triggered every trap in the damn building.”

  Sandy “DeeStruck” Poples nodded as she stretched her long slender body in exaggerated boredom. “None of us are playing this so we can sit around. Plus, Stew has all those gorgeous muscles that he has to put to use.”

  As she spoke, she absentmindedly cast a spark spell that sent tiny glints of electricity floating up in the air. Loose robes draped the sorceress’s body, and she appeared to be a priestess from ancient times who worshipped pagan gods using dark arts long lost to humanity.

  Stew struck an Olympian’s pose. “Thank you very much, DeeStruck.” Even though Sandy’s handle—DeeStruck—was a bit camp, he pronounced it reverently, because he knew exactly how she’d gotten the name.

  He also knew that anyone who made fun of her in-game handle would quickly die for the mistake.

  Stew flexed his avatar’s pecks, making them dance to some silent drum. It was impressive because it meant Stew actually had those pecks. The VR game only exaggerated your traits, it didn’t make them up.

  Unlike so many of the other, far less successful VR games on the market, Middang3ard did not let you play other races or customize your looks. You were what you were in real life.

  Only a bit more so.

  “These biceps crave destruction.” Stew did a couple more body-building poses before plopping himself down by the fire, saying, “Can we at least go check out the door again?”

  He slapped Suzuki on the back, jarring the warrior-mage from his thoughts and back to reality.

  Well, what passed as reality these days.

  “You know what?” Suzuki asked with a nod. “For once, Stew is right. We do need to do something. Gear up. Let’s check the door and see what we missed.”

  “Oh, hallelujah.” Beth groaned. “I’m pretty sure that Stew being right is one of the signs of the apocalypse.”

  The Mundanes walked into the forest, Sandy at the front, with a small fireball that she cradled in her hand to help illuminate the darkness.

  With almost every step they took, Suzuki checked over his shoulder, trying to relieve the sense of dread that sat like an unwanted dinner guest in the pit of his stomach. His instincts told him something was there, but his heads-up display, his HUD, didn’t report anything.

  Then he heard it. Crackling leaves. Something was in the forest.

  Something large.

  Something that was trying to flank them.

  Suzuki checked his HUD again, but even though he heard the danger, it still didn’t alert him that anything was there. Which meant it was masking itself.

  But what could do that? A dark elf or evil mage masking its intent? Or maybe some kind of new monster they’d never encountered before? Something conjured just to kill players in the Expansion?

  Suzuki moved up closer to Beth. His hand lightly brushed hers, and he felt his skin burn under his armor. Even in VR, it made his head race to touch her.

  Beth looked at him and smiled. “Something on your mind?”

  Suzuki continued to scan the area. “We’re being followed. It sounds big.”

  Beth touched her own HUD as she scanned the surrounding forest, “I’m not registering anything, but my perception skills aren’t as high as yours.”

  Suzuki shook his head. “My HUD’s reading nothing too.”

  “So how do you know something’s there?”

  “I know,” Suzuki said.

  Beth nodded. She trusted the Mundanes’ leader. She trusted Suzuki. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Prep a distress signal. I’m pre
tty sure we’ll make it to the dungeon door before anything happens. But when the shit hits the fan, I want to know we got backup.”

  “Lure it to the open and call for reinforcements. Good plan. I guess that’s why we pay you the big bucks.”

  Suzuki chuckled. “Last time I checked my bank account, it was empty.”

  “Ahh, we must have the wrong account, then.”

  “Must have,” Suzuki said with a smile before his face went deadly serious. “Now get ready.”

  3

  It only took them a few minutes to cross the forest into the clearing where a massive stone door appeared at the foot of a mountain. Elvish runes decorated the door, glowing brightly as if they had been traced into the stone with gold dust.

  Another party made up of a massive barbarian and two rangers was already at the dungeon’s door. They watched as the Mundanes broke the tree line, and as soon as they did, one of the rangers waved them over, displaying both hands to signify no ill intent.

  Suzuki welcomed the gesture.

  Especially given what was lurking in the forest.

  Suzuki gestured for the others to go on ahead, and as soon as they were a few steps away, he turned and listened. The cracking of leaves and wood had stopped, which meant that whatever was stalking them was getting ready to attack.