Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1)

by Ned Caratacus

  But to Monty, compared to the future glory of Ulfenstadt, it was just another source of loot, food, and slaves.

  Monty leaned against the mesh fence of the bridge, overlooking Route 49—a massive trench below the street level that cut through the city. The wire left marks on his face as he impatiently stared at the cars, looking for some hint of the Doomwagon.

  Behind him, blocking the cars from the bridge, were 75 battle ready warriors, 25 heavily armored centurions, and one of his most promising Legates, Rimsky Naismith.

  The pirates' truck came into vision on the horizon. Their pursuers would be there any minute.

  [Put On Your Glasses Now.]

  You pull your glorious warship to the side of the ocean as you hear the scream. Noelle is in danger. Perhaps your crew has decided to play rough with her, and as a result, need to walk the plank. They were your best friends and wouldn't judge you for killing them. Besides, with your beloved Noelle by your side, you can plunder the ocean on your own if you have to.

  You pounce onto the poop deck, where Noelle sits, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Stifling a marriage proposal from the sight, you ask her, “Noelle, my apricot, are you hurt?”

  Her eyes fill with caramel-flavored tears, and she looks down at the Forbidden Lollipop, nestled gingerly betwixt her bosom. The poor girl, she had only hoped to experience the candy's glistening thunder for herself.

  “Oh, darling,” you tell her, “only a seasoned veteran pirate can handle the taste of the Forbidden Lollipop. But fear not! Stick with me, and soon enough, you will become a goddess among pirates as my radiant queen!” You reach into your back pocket and pull out your all-purpose valentine—a copy of the same declaration of love that has never failed you before. “I've written this poem for you, by the way.”

  [Acquired Dirty Napkin with Something Written on It!]

  [Reading message...]

  Ello. If yore reedin dis: im not in ma rite mind. But u seem nise, an i dun wana hurt chew.

  So: if i do some ruff stuf to ya, jus say dis werd reel loud:

  ANEWBUS!!

  ann then ill stop.

  (But done tell no mandy—is a seekrit!)

  Fanks, and sory in advants,

  BRNAWN HAMMERSMIF, pirat n also bazurker

  “Oh, rapture eternal!” says Noelle, her tongue cured through the power of your raging hormones. “My handsome capitaine: for liberating me from the licentiousness of the savage and brutish LaGuêpe, I shall give you my most treasured, most wond—”

  “Yes, I would like to make out, thanks!”

  “Non, non, ma cherie, that daren't even APPROACH the secrecy, wonder, magic, beauty, and sauciness of the treasure which I shall give you. Behold!”

  [Noah — Dispel]

  Noelle pulls a magic wand from her cleavage and waves it above your head, sprinkling glitter onto your face. Each time a single grain of confetti falls against your forehead, you fall in love with her all over again, and wish you could kidnap her 7,000 more times for good measure.

  “What witchcraft is this, my sweet little horse chestnut?” you say, giggling as glitter tickles your closed eyelids.

  You open them, and…

  [Remove Your Glasses Now.]

  [Legate Thoric — Teleportal]

  In the air above the bridge, a white thread of energy spread into a full-fledged hole in the sky, 13 meters in diameter. The lower half was sand and dirt, which poured onto the road like a waterfall. The top half was the night sky of Dunngate.

  Meeting the cheers of Monty and his goons, the screech of a speeding Dunngatian freight train's brakes came too late. Four engines shot out above the highway, carrying 50 tanker cars of natural gas with them.

  Redacted and Expunged, currently the only two people on the ship who could see a giant, flaming freight train barrel rolling down the highway, jumped and ran for their lives to the north.

  Sadly, Noah and Branwen were otherwise preoccupied.

  [Flaming Wreck — Thomas the Siege Engine]

  [5]

  Noah jumped with a start when he heard an explosion in the near distance, but stuck with his patient, who was looking around desperately. “Ah, good,” he said. “You're back to normal, for the time being. Please don't kill me.”

  [4]

  “Noelle?!”

  “Actually, my name's Noah. I saw that you were experiencing hallucinations, so I wanted to help you out. Also, please don't kill me.”

  [3]

  Branwen broke down in sobs as she helplessly pawed at the air in front of Noah's chest, desperate to feel anything. “No! This can't be happening!”

  [2]

  “I know, and I can only imagine what you must be—”

  “I don't know if I can go on!”

  [1]

  “—going through, but I only want to help you with—”

  “What am I fighting fooooooor?!”

  [0]

  “—your mental health, and—is that a train?”

  Yes, it was.

  [425,569 DMG to HMS Video Nasty]

  [HMS Video Nasty was totaled!]

  Noah needed a priest.

  Chapter 15

  The Battle of Route 49

  So did everyone else.

  Black smoke filled the night sky as the cloud layer took a sick orange glow from the flames. At least 50 vehicles and their passengers had been reduced to ash under a blanket of blazing steel cylinders.

  Overhead, GU warriors, their mouths covered with bandannas to filter out the smoke, leaped across whatever train cars weren't on fire for any sign of the Chosen Three's healer.

  “Kill all survivors!” shouted a dwarven centurion. “Cut 'em open! And King Gregor, if yer watchin'—so long as you let degeneracy and feminine tyranny run the show 'round here, this is just gonna keep happenin' and happenin'!”

  Hull's command never reached King Gregor, as Channel 4 was having its annual marathon of Marriage Is Awful reruns, and His Majesty needed to watch something tasteless, but validating.

  As for Noah, he wasn't quite sure where he was. Everything was dark, heavy, hot, and smelled of steel.

  Dead? Not yet. He knew he wasn't in Hell—Argo would have had to see him first, weigh his very few sins, and run him through the whole bureaucracy of the official damnation process.

  But this wasn't Paradisia, and certainly not a good place to hypothetically have tea and cookies with his dear Pamina—and she could make literally any other place a good one for some good ol' T&C. This dark, hot environment failed his one simple requirement for places to be, and he needed to leave.

  [Noah — Speed Buff]

  [Noah's speed increased by 50!]

  So, he left. Clutching his staff, he dashed through layers of fire heated steel, leaving Noah—shaped holes behind him. And it hurt. A lot.

  [1,303 DMG to Noah]

  So did sadness, fear, bus crashes, and tasers, and the day was very quickly getting to the point where pain was no object to poor Noah Tamino.

  By the gods, he thought, distracting himself from the pain as he trounced through wave after wave of death and smoke. Is this how Era got his pain tolerance? Maybe I could talk to him about it when this all blows over. I love that guy, I really do, but I can't help but feel a little stupid around him. He's always got a clever plan of some sort, and I haven't had a clever plan in my life! No, I shouldn't be jealous. I mean, I'm not, that would mean I'd think ill of him. I just wish I could

  [Fall damage!]

  [257 DMG to Noah]

  At that moment, it occurred to Noah that he was no longer surrounded by flames and twisted metal but was facedown on the pavement of a nearby expressway bridge, having run upwards through the wreckage and rocketed himself through the air.

  And this must be how Era feels when he gets too distracted. He pried himself from the ground, his speed buff worn out.

  Looking up, he saw the edge of a two-pronged spear hanging inches away from his face.

  “'Sup,” said Lord Monty.

/>   Knowing that it wasn't a breach of his Code if you thought something absolutely filthy without saying it, Noah waved hello.

  Further to the north, motorists on Route 49 had long since given up on the halted gridlock traffic from the disaster, and sat on the hoods of their cars to commiserate over a few cold beers. Drunk driving was illegal, but one needs a moving car for that sort of thing.

  Heading south, the halted cars progressively became flaming, wrecked cars. Era, Liv, and Ofelia made a beeline for the wreck.

  “Any sign of Minion?!” asked Liv.

  “I can't see him,” said Era. “The wreckage is piled too high, unless you got a periscope or—" Wait a minute. “Be right back!”

  Era drew his sword and visualized it as a comically huge bundle of balloons. Holding it aloft, the blade carried him into the gathering smoke. He drew the edge of his sweater over his mouth.

  On the bridge ahead, he caught the glimpse of some black-masked thugs scattering through the wreckage. Some of them carried black and blue flags with a white wolf's head. This is Monty's work. I should have known.

  Just as Era caught a glimpse of a familiar redheaded hostage on the bridge with his hands bound—Noah!—A cry of, “It's the Rosie!” came out from the mob of mask wearing goons, followed by a shot.

  [GU Sniper — Attack]

  [205 DMG to Era]

  A dull thud of force grazed against the side of Era's abdomen, turning it white.

  Huh, never been shot before. Thought it would be more painful. Also, yikes, retreat. He flew back to the others, and Ofelia waved a healing spell over the pixelation.

  [Ofelia — Restore-2]

  [Era recovered 1,000 HP!]

  “I’ll wager this is the pirate’s doing,” said Ofelia, her forehead firmly nestled in her gauntlet.

  “No sign of her,” said Era. “The GU did this. Goons all over the place, and a couple Legates are definitely here, maybe even Monty himself.”

  Liv grabbed Era's face by the cheeks, her fingernails growing slightly. Her eye fires were deep red, bordering on black. Not quite the Riastrad, but close.

  “But did you see Noah?”

  Her voice was distorted through the black, gaseous hatred seeping from her mouth.

  Is it weird that I'm more scared of her hating me than killing me? Questions for later.

  “He's alive, up on the bridge. Think they're holding him hostage.”

  She let him go.

  “Please tell me you have a plan,” said Ofelia.

  “Give me five seconds, and I'll have one for sure.”

  Exactly five seconds passed, and Era was out of ideas. Still, his mouth opened, and semi-coherent words came out. Some would argue that this was Era's life in a nutshell.

  “The main thing here is saving Noah,” said Era. “Don't go after Monty—we're not ready for him yet, but we can still avenge the civilians here. I'll take a shortcut and get Noah back. You guys draw the GU's attention, and keep them from reaching the survivors.”

  “You're having ME make a distraction?” asked Liv. “Vog that, I'll kill 'em all!”

  “Good. Death is very distracting.”

  “What about Signora Branwen?” asked Ofelia.

  “She'll be fine,” said Era.

  Ofelia scoffed. “What if I don't want her to be fine?”

  An attempted charge trumpet from a GU vuvuzela interrupted Era’s reply. They were close.

  “Time to go,” said Era. “For the Light! Or something.”

  But before Era left to rescue Noah, he caught a glimpse of Liv. Something was still off about her. Still worried about 'Minion', huh? Era tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around, glaring.

  “Look, Liv, I'll save Noah. You have my word as a true son of Mt. Coli—”

  “Voggin' better!” she interrupted. “If you end up getting him killed, I'm taking your other leg.”

  “With a Medusa Gun?”

  “With a rusty butter knife, over the course of twelve hours in a dingy basement filled with starving rats!”

  At least it's not a Medusa Gun. “You got yourself a deal.”

  With that, Era made a run for a maintenance door at the side of the expressway, leading to street level.

  [Put On Your Glasses Now]

  At last, the treacherous healer's reality inducing spell sees its way out, and you're back to your old self again.

  A giant sea serpent's carcass decays over the remains of your ship. Redacted and Expunged are nowhere to be found, and neither is—

  “NOELLE!”

  But to find your beloved maiden, you'll have to escape to the surface. Baring your ironclad pirate fangs, you devour your way through the rotting flesh of the serpent. The necrotic fermentation enhances the flavor, bringing out hints of pecan pie, with a honey aftertaste.

  As you gulp down each jagged, pointy glob of scales and bacteria, you begin to see the light of the storm outside. You poke your head through the beast's hide—

  LaGuêpe is here! In the distance, he's fighting off a flock of angry ducks with white plumage, wearing little Crissmus sweaters, and each one armed with a butcher knife in their bill. Truly, the most fearsome beasts of the seven seas.

  Destroying him will have to come later—finding Noelle is priority one, and she's no longer in LaGuêpe's insectoid grasp. You pry yourself from the blubbery tissue of the mutilated sea beast.

  [Remove Your Glasses Now.]

  Hank, one of the GU's newest warriors, dropped his hatchet in amazement. That dwarf just ate her way out of a train car, he thought. He wasn't wrong.

  Gaining her footing, Branwen stared up at him, a piece of charred steel still hanging from her bleeding lips.

  Hank, legs trembling, drew his pistol. “That's far enough!” he said. “This area belongs to the GU now, so turn back or die!”

  Branwen tilted her head.

  [Put On Your Glasses Now.]

  You tilt your head at the large duck in front of you. His knife is on the ground, and he's quack—sobbing into his wings, scattering a rain of tears all around him.

  “What's wrong, big guy?” you ask him.

  “Oh, Cap'n Branwen, it's terrible,” he quacks. “Nobody wants to beat the crap outta me!”

  “Don't you worry, buddy. These fists are equal opportunity!”

  [Branwen — Cannonball Fist]

  The duck giggles in pure joy as your exploding punch launches him into the dead serpent's large intestine. You have done the world a public service.

  [4,419 DMG to Warrior Hank]

  [Warrior Hank was slain!]

  [Remove Your Glasses Now.]

  Now a hostage with his hands bound, Noah knelt on the bridge's sidewalk, mumbling prayers to all three of the gods for safety. Rafeth, too; lately he'd been giving a lot of praise to Argo and Galgalim, and Noah didn't want the Eternal Flame to feel left out.

  A circle with a weaving pattern of magical Jones Tele-Logistics runes (including trademark symbols and fine print) appeared on the pavement next to Noah, glowing.

  [Thoric — Teleport Self]

  Thoric appeared in the center of the runes, carrying a thin, dense, powerful staff covered in circuitry and buttons. It was a Jones Model 4IJ Automage Staff, the last one in existence after the recall for its teleportation capabilities being too dangerous for civilian use, i.e. teleporting a train onto a highway and what have you.

  “You're welcome, My Lord,” spat Thoric to his brother.

  Monty, still surveying the battle, chuckled. “Oh, so now you're having doubts? The hospital was fine, but you draw the line at disrupting the petroleum industry. Cute.”

  “Not at all. But I do hope you're aware of how difficult it was to locate that train on such short notice.” Thoric thought it best not to tell his brother he teleported into three separate kindergartens before he got the coords right. He motioned to Noah. “Who's the degenerate?”

  Monty snatched Noah by the hair, pulling him up to introduce him to Thoric. “Oh, this?” asked Monty. “
This is my new special friend. His name's Friar Noah Tamino, and he says he's gonna marry the Princess. Right?”

  “Wheel, Flame, and Fleece have mercy on you both,” mumbled Noah.

  Thoric snickered. “Methinks he's a bit too fat to win the heart of a princess, My Lord.”

  “I know, right?! You know what, bro? I think she just accepted his proposal because she didn't wanna see him throw a bitch fit.”

  “She proposed to me,” said Noah.

  [Monty — Backhand]

  Monty slapped him. “You think you can lie to me?!”

  “I don't think I can lie to anyone, Mr. Monty. I'm a truthsee—”

  “Damn right, not while someone stronger than you is around. You learn quickly!”

  Thoric kneaded the bridge of his nose, being sure to remember the old mantra that kept him sane throughout this campaign: “Let him be stupid, and it’ll be over quicker.”

  Closing his eyes, Noah mumbled another prayer.

  “You think your gods can save you from me?” asked Monty.

  “With all due respect, Mr. Monty, I don't think a 'please don't kill me' would do that much good for now, so I thought I might as well do something more constructive.”