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

by Ned Caratacus

[3,064 DMG to Centurion Brent]

  The centurion—a portly dwarf named Brent—quivered in his bear pelt as a rush of electric energy passed through him. His ivory claymore fell from his hands.

  Brent pointed to the prone Dark Lord, the face of whom was purple and stained with tears. “He's crying, wizard. First Law. He dies, just as any of us would.”

  From behind Brent: “Brent's right!”

  “He's no better than a Rosie!”

  “Brent should be the Dark Lord!”

  From behind Thoric: “Traitor!”

  “The Rosie used black magic on him!”

  “Kill Brent!”

  From Monty: incoherent sobbing.

  [Legate Thoric — Shut Up Pound]

  “Enough!” screamed Thoric. The throne room floor shivered from his magic.

  But it wasn't enough, and not a soul among the GU felt like shutting up.

  [Era — Steal]

  [Acquired Neverstone from Lupus!]

  [Era's Neverstone withdrawal ended, and his previous stats were restored.]

  “I've had enough, too!” said Brent. “The one thing I hate more than a Rosie is a hypocrite. And how many of us did he kill for crying?”

  [Era — Ultra Potion]

  [Noah recovered all HP!]

  “And the one thing I hate more than a hypocrite is a traitor!” said Thoric. “Monty is a thousand times the warrior you ever will be.”

  [Noah — Divine Intervention]

  [Liv and Ofelia were revived!]

  “What's more important, Thoric? The cause we're fighting for, or your brother's ego?”

  [Ofelia — Retrieve Shield]

  [Noah — Let’s Go, Branny]

  [Noah carried Branwen!]

  “As if you've ever cared about our cause, Brent. You've been jealous of Lord Monty from day one!”

  [Era — Flee]

  [The party escaped!]

  “Vog you, and vog Lord Monty! I signed up to be a warrior, not the slave of some crybaby. Monty has no right to call himself King of Ulfenstadt—I do!”

  “Vog you!”

  “VOG YOU!”

  “Vog you to infinity!”

  “Long live Lord Brent!”

  “Death to Monty!”

  “Kill Brent!”

  “Monty forever!

  [Daggerfly — Bombing Run]

  [Stung multiple targets!]

  The screaming was heard from well beyond the Black Pyramid.

  In the “stem” of the castle's mushroom shape, Era and the others ran down the spiral stairway along the walls.

  [Era — Bells of Miracles]

  The newly revived and Jade-Crowned Era—who had duct taped his new Neverstone to his abdomen—cranked the Bells of Miracles as he slid down the banister, and the sound of an adorable glockenspiel-ish fairy dance chimed out through the endless hallways and corridors of the palace. As such, three out of every four guardsmen along the way felt the inescapable urge to drop their guns and boogie down.

  [The Miracle of Joy!]

  Specifically, they engaged in a well-choreographed series of ballet moves while laughing and belting out trilling falsetto tra-la-las, hey-nonny-nonnys, and even a few fol-de-rols. If only for a minute, all their thoughts of rounding up all the elves into death camps had regressed into dreams of stripping naked, running away into the woods, wearing flower crowns, and sitting on toadstools.

  Naturally, they all felt a bit silly afterward, but since Liv and Ofelia quickly dismembered the hostile guards who had been able to resist the bells' enchantments, they were probably better off

  Once the heroes knew they were a merciful ten seconds away from leaving the palace doors below, they stopped to catch their breath on the fifth floor mezzanine.

  “I have no idea what just happened,” said Ofelia, “but there certainly was a lot of it, whatever it was.”

  Noah fell backward onto the floor, sighing. “If it's all the same to you fellas,” he said, “I'd like to take a nap forever.” Knowing the Gods' mercy from earlier wasn't infinite, he added a hasty, “But I won't, of course.”

  Era doffed his recently-torn sweater. “Before I do anything else, can someone take this? Gena’s gonna flip if I don’t get it repaired.”

  “I gotcha, Slasher.” Liv grabbed the sweater. “So was that Minion screaming earlier or—”

  “It was Monty,” said Noah.

  Liv grinned in a manner reserved for the smuggest of crocodiles. “All right, gimme the details.”

  “Eh, I'd rather not,” said Era.

  “Man, whaaaat? Why not?!”

  “It'll break your heart to have missed it.”

  “Come on, Slasher, I won't—”

  “He got a daggerfly to go up his shorts,” said Noah.

  Liv scoffed. “And I didn't get to see this?”

  “Seriously, Noah?” asked Era.

  Noah chuckled. “Era, Liv, I love you both, but I'm a few Monty-just-strangled-me's too tired to care about social graces.”

  “Hey, now,” said Era, pointing to himself. “Do your job and leave the weltschmerz to the professionals.”

  “What's a weltschmerz?” asked Noah.

  Era sighed. “Ye Gods, my obscure references are wasted on these meager mortals.”

  “Careful, your Dark Lord is showing,” chortled Liv.

  “Yeah, well, if I'm only gonna be wearing the Jade Crown on the way back to the bus, I might as well make the most of it.”

  “Era?” said Ofelia.

  “You have summoned me, human?” said Era, in his best Dark Lord voice.

  “The guards are catching up to us, and they have Medusa Guns.”

  (The unofficial motto of House Niccolo was “If you're right, the wrong will call you a killjoy,” and this was the one part of her father's side of the family for which Ofelia had any high regard.)

  [Era — Flee ]

  [The party got away safely!]

  Thankfully, the guards’ weapons weren’t turned on our heroes—but on each other. The infighting in the throne room had made its way throughout the whole palace, and soon, throughout Ur-Kobalis. With their new Medusa Guns, the GU’s numbers decreased by the dozens every minute. To seal their fate, Brent loyalists demolished the teleport gates with their axes and sledgehammers, thus stranding the whole of the GU in Kobalheim.

  In the first hours of its existence, Ulfenstadt was already a kingless kingdom, choked with fire. Those of the GU with enough foresight to understand this had fled to various ruins throughout Ur-Kobalis to ride out the storm.

  Two of the centurions still loyal to Monty carried their screeching king through the door to the Queen's old bedchambers. Though the bed was destroyed, and no frame remained, Monty's custom-ordered waterbed remained on the floor for its master to recuperate on. Thoric followed and barricaded the door.

  The two centurions struggled to pour a bottle of vodka—the one Ulfenstadt-approved painkiller—down Monty's throat. The result was a bawling, bearded toddler covered in his own vomit and clutching his groin in desperation. Attempts to bite his lip to stop the crying had only left him bleeding.

  Thoric wiped a thick film of sweat from his forehead. “That went pear-shaped fast,” he said. “I suppose we'll have to postpone the Death March until we can get this—”

  “Vog the Death March!” sobbed Monty. “I lost the crown, I cried, my balls feel like they've been nailed to each other—we're done. I no wanna be Dark Lord no more, I no wanna be king, I no even wanna be alive! Just kill me and get it over with.”

  For a moment, Thoric could physically feel a few of his own hairs turning grey. “Just to clarify, My Lord,” said Thoric, “are you giving up?”

  “I no wanna be here. I wanna give up! Kill me!” He pointed to the centurion to his right. “You! Wa's yer name?”

  “Centurion Gustav, your awesomeness.”

  “I'm not awesome! I no wanna be an awesome! KILL ME, GOOSE TOM! Killmekillmekillme kill me-hee-hheeeeeee!”

  Centurion Gustav
was at least 80% certain his name wasn't Goose Tom, but at this point, a proud warrior didn't deserve to be corrected on his deathbed. He drew his pistol—sized Medusa Gun and pressed the end against Monty's temple. “It has been an honor to fight at your side, Lord Mon—”

  [Legate Thoric —Medusa Gun]

  Skreee!

  [Centurion Gustav was slain!]

  [Centurion Who Is Presumably Not Also Named Gustav was slain!]

  Thoric panted through his teeth. The veins of his face and neck bulged into twisted purple racing stripes. The force of his clenched fist cracked the handle of his own Medusa pistol.

  Monty gargled with despair, thrashing about like a fish in a blender. “Waz'n me! Aim for me! Down left! Why you gotta kill erryone but me?! Kill me! I wanna di—”

  [Legate Thoric — Restrain]

  Two of Thoric's hands clutching Monty's face were enough to end the tantrum, if only for a few minutes. Thoric's reddish-purple face twisted as it came within inches of his brother's.

  “Monty,” said Thoric, suppressing a string of curses and otherworldly screeching at the back of his throat. “Do you know why I joined your stupid army? Do you know why I spent the past year babysitting you? So you wouldn't get yourself killed. And now, just to clarify: the second it gets a little too hard for you to handle, you're telling me you want to die. Is that correct?”

  “Please?” said Monty.

  Thoric's eye twitched. If Ulfenstadt succeeded, Thoric would have had to be king for him.

  “NO!”

  He reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a metal cylinder—one of the many toys that the Koscheis had supplied them with.

  “Monty, this is your Dark Lord campaign.” He thrust it into Monty's face—it was covered in Koschei Thaumatronics warning labels. “The GU was your stupid idea.” He twisted the cap off. “And by the Gods, you will not drag me down with you!” He threw the cap to the side, revealing an inoculating needle underneath. “So, here's the deal.”

  He jammed the needle into Monty's neck.

  [Legate Thoric — Blood Moon Serum]

  A scar of glowing red runes began to spread across Monty's body. Soon he was awash with harsh red light. If Monty got out of this alive, Thoric would probably go blind in a few years. This was the last thing on his mind.

  “Waz dat?” asked Monty, his voice deepening by the nanosecond.

  “Alpha lycanthropy. A little secret weapon our friend Gregor gave us.”

  “Why, tho?”

  “Because you're going to become a 400-foot-tall werewolf god, you're going to spread terror and fear throughout Luminar and murder everyone you hate, and you're going to bloody well like it! Have I made myself cle—”

  [Lord Monty — Transform]

  Thoric would have finished that little speech, if not for the strange mass of dog hair that had suddenly thrust him into the ceiling.

  With the city being as ruined and abandoned as it was, directions were spotty. But Branwen had finally regained movement, and she was able to recognize some of the environment from her little explorations. So, the heroes found themselves a few blocks away from the old Kobal hospital.

  “You sure this is the right way?” asked Ofelia.

  “Yep,” said Branwen.

  The paladin nodded, but then had another question: “Branwen, are we in the ocean right now?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ofelia groaned. “Now,” she said, “does anyone else know how to get to the Pyramid?”

  Noah folded his arms, thinking. “I mean, we got to the palace because that meanie of a wizard took us there with his teleporter staff, so there’s no way to know. How did you get there, Era?”

  “A gargoyle flew me over,” he said. “And I do remember what the palace looked like on the way there, so if I—"

  Turning his head toward the Pyrite Palace in the distance behind him, he realized an important thing about his memory of the place: last time he saw it from this distance, it wasn't falling to pieces, being torn apart from within. That's a new one.

  “By Galgalim,” said Ofelia, catching a glimpse of the palace herself. “Do you think they bombed it?”

  Era shrugged. “I mean, I set the whole GU against each other, so it's entirely possible that one of 'em went batvog crazy and found their stash of—”

  [????? — Demonic Roar]

  [The party was paralyzed with fear!]

  [Noah peed a little!]

  [Liv's Omega Lycanthropy was triggered!]

  “Werewolf,” said Liv, through a sudden fit of nasal congestion and/or a sudden craving for raw meat. “An alpha werewolf. We need to get out of here, now.”

  Era scanned over the thick smoke, trying to find the silhouette of a giant werewolf. “Gimme a sec,” he said, “we'll think of something.”

  “I'm serious, Slasher. Literally, the only thing that can take down an alpha werewolf is multiple nuclear airstrikes. Which means unless your dad has several nuclear bombs in his stolen tech closet, we gotta get out of here.”

  Era trembled. This was the first time he'd heard Liv sound this terrified about something. Whatever cautionary documentary she saw about lycanthropy must've gotten tons of awards. “Fair enough,” he said. “And we only had one, but dad said he sold it for beer money in La Toza. But we can't just let the werewolf stay here, can we?”

  Ofelia turned pale. “Begging your pardon, Signor Gualtieri sold what, exactly?!”

  “We can,” said Liv. “The monster's contained here, and artificial moonlight serum only lasts a few hours.”

  Era nodded. “Right. Then let's be off.”

  “Time out, Era,” said Noah, “have we actually been driving around Aries with a NUKE?”

  “I'll explain later. Run!”

  Noah started hyperventilating. “Who'd he sell it to?”

  Branwen hyperventilated, too. “Why didn't I get to eat it?”

  Era sighed. “Okay. Fine. Each one of you can give my dad a thorough talking to once this is all done and over with. But if this thing is as dangerous as Liv says it is, we need to—”

  “We can leave in a minute,” said Liv. “First, I wanna find out where this nuke is and buy it back. I always wanted one.”

  “Why?” asked Noah.

  “I dunno, it just feels like one of those things you should own at least once in your life, y'know? Like a dog, or a home with a big yard out front.”

  “Livvy, a dog wouldn't kill millions of people if you set it off!” said Noah.

  [????? — Leap]

  “I know at least one dog that can,” said Era. “So, let's move. Now.”

  “That thing could have gone off if the road was bumpy enough,” said Ofelia, trying to process all this. “By Galgalim’s gilded eyelash, we've been cheating nuclear death the whole time! We need to find it and dismantle it immediately.”

  “Or you could let me eat it,” said Branwen.

  Ofelia scoffed. “You'd die, you insane reprobate! Not even you could digest a nuclear—”

  “Get bent, Frenchie! I was just fine after the last one.”

  “What last one?” screeched Noah.

  [????? — Landing]

  Wham!

  A rush of dust and debris snuffed out of Mischa's Secret Nuke Fiasco before its prime. With everything in front of him turning to grey and white, Era looked into the air above him.

  The sky, once pink from the daylight, had become blackish-purple. Kobalheim's three bright crescent moons didn't do much good to abate the wrath of the beast. Standing on the flattened outskirts of Ur-Kobalis between the heroes and the Pyramid, a dark, fat, muscular silhouette of hair and teeth extended 400 feet into the sky. The long, matted, and gnarled black fur was the only hint that this gigantic, bipedal thing was even remotely mammalian.

  Whatever traces of wolf or man had been in the monster had given way to a third beast, born of Monty's hatred and despair. Patches of missing fur revealed grey dragon scales. Six spiral antelope horns extended from the back of
its head, and three pairs of eyes glowed above its bloated lupine snout. A few sets of crude, vestigial wing stumps protruded from its shoulder blades, and its unfinished tail hung limp and lifeless behind the corrupted werewolf for a few meters. Flames continuously flickered from its jaws, highlighting its six rows of teeth.

  Thoric sat in between the werewolf's eyes. One hand clung to a length of the monster's hair for a crude harness, and the other remained on his teleport staff.

  [Legate Thoric — Throw Voice]

  “My brother would like a word with you, Rosie,” said the wizard.

  [????? — Total Bloody Lunacy]

  The Monster Formerly Known as Lord Monty™ raised its head toward the three moons and howled, though it came out as more of a gurgling scream of pure rage. The ground shook, and the sky turned deep red. Each of the moons flashed red, turning all three of them into blood moons.

  [Final Boss!]

  [The Full Monty ~The Big, Bad Wolf~]

  [Bestiary: The Full Monty]

  [Type: Man-Beast]

  [Weaknesses: A silver bullet to the heart, but let's be honest, they don't make 'em big enough]

  [HP: 6,000,000]

  [Description: “...not everyone who has lycanthropy can be a werewolf. There are 24 categories of intensity. Alpha's the strongest, and that's a giant, city-destroying wolf god...” — Liv Matapang, Omega Lycanthrope]

  Era drew his sword. “Alright, guys, this just stopped being avoidable. I'll go up and disorient him. Liv, get to high ground and blast him with all you got. Branwen, climb up, go for his head, be creative. Ofelia, go for the feet, keel him over. And Noah, go with Branwen, heal as needed, and do a Confound the Wicked on his back when I give the signal. Can we do something about Branwen's hearing?”