Damn. I hadn’t even thought of it that way. Nobody likes a person who has everything handed to them. He doesn’t know that I’m here as a punishment, that the very reason I am here is because I didn’t have Mom and Dad bail me out. Or did I? I could be in prison right now, but instead, I’m playing a game for thirty days because of a favor they called in.
Back in the village, Guilda reunites the children with their parents. I’d like to think that something like that would frighten the young ones, but judging by the looks on their faces, they don’t seem too upset. Is it their natural troll resilience or the fact that they have seen this type of thing way too often?
Many of the huts are charred in places, but for the most part, they are okay. The fact that they are living homes means that it wasn’t just dried timber that caught fire. Living things are harder to burn.
“That’s enough excitement for one night, children. Everyone to bed.” Guilda says it kindly, escorting children to and fro. She’s like the nurturing grandmother who can bench press a truck.
I don’t really know that there is too much more for me to help with. The funeral pyre has already begun for our attackers, and I’m not sure what will be done with the fallen trolls. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so it’s probably best if I rest for the night.
“You can stay in Ramu’s hut for the night until we find you someplace more permanent,” Guilda offers.
“Are you sure?” Something feels wrong about staying in the hut of a dead troll. I’m positive Gord will have something to say about it, but it’s not like I can really argue. Guilda is on the council after all.
Stepping into the hut is a bit unsettling, like when people die in real life and they still leave behind their social media profiles. They’re just there, forever, like nothing ever happened. Their pictures still smile, and the funny cat video still plays when you scroll over it. This room makes me feel like that.
A small wooden toy sits on a bedside table. I pick it up and notice it’s a carving of a troll, very intricate and detailed. Heavier than I would have thought. The contours of its muscles and the loincloth are textured. He holds a tiny club in his hand. Whoever did this had skill.
A leather blanket covers a wooden pallet used as a bed. It’s a step down from my pillowtop mattress, but I have a feeling that with my new body, I could sleep on a rock and not really notice. The room is all very rudimentary, but kind of endearing in a way.
I try not to think about Ramu, about what kind of troll he was. If he carved the troll or if it was a gift. Who he was giving it to or who had given it to him. I’ll think of him as a video game character who died in a battle, not as someone who lived a life long before I ever got here.
Laying down on the pallet, I realize this is my first night sleeping in Isle of Mythos. My first night of full immersion. Somewhere out there, tiny nanites are cleaning my body and making me experience all of this like I’m really here. Whenever this game is ready to launch, it’s going to be a worldwide hit. There’s no doubt about it.
I don’t recall falling asleep, but I wake up to the beating of drums. When I step outside, the bodies of the four dead trolls each have their own funeral pyre in the middle of the village.
The bodies are about three feet off the ground, covered in an assortment of brightly-colored flowers. Their fragrant aroma fills the air along with the musk of incense. Nobody says anything as Chief Rizza circles the pyres holding a torch.
“Ramu, son of Redma. Uhmi, daughter of Ezra. Hethe, son of Teja. Yavo, son of Zalma. You gave your lives for our village. For our people. We will see you in the next life.”
There is a loud stomp that echoes from everyone, and they smack their fists against their hearts. I’m the only one who doesn’t do it. Part of what Gord says rings true—I am an outsider. A foreigner to my own people. Chief Rizza ignites the kindling around the feet of each pyre and the bodies are engulfed in flame.
We all stand in silence as the fires crackle and burn, incinerating the bodies of the four trolls. They burn hot and bright, disguising what happens beneath the flames. When the fires begin to die, trolls disperse to their everyday jobs. Gord cuts his eyes at me as he makes his way into the forest.
“I have a few parting gifts to help you with your journey before you go,” says Chief Rizza.
She leads me into the temple where I first saw Jira. The smell of incense is as strong as ever and several wooden bowls send off blue and purple smoke that rises to the ceiling. Jira stands over a chest covered in furs.
“It has been too long since we have been able to craft with magic, but we still have a few items from the old days. I pray that they will help you on your quest.” He moves the furs aside, revealing a dark chest complete with gold latches and studded with precious stones.
It’s the most non-troll thing I’ve seen since I came here. Rizza pulls a key from her pocket and hands it to Jira. He opens the chest and the lid falls back with a thud.
He pulls out a dark crimson feather. It’s almost black near the center and gradually fades into red tips. I focus on it and its stats display in the edge of my vision.
Item. Phoenix Feather. 10% resistance to fire-based attacks. A very rare item, phoenix feathers can only be gathered if they are willingly given by the host. Feathers plucked from unwilling birds turn to ash.
“As you know, trolls are very resilient, but we take more damage from fire than most races. I don’t know what you will face on your journey, but this should prove helpful if you come across any humans. They have a strange fascination with fire.” Jira hands the feather to Chief Rizza, and she ties it into the bottom of my braid.
Next, he pulls out a necklace. It is basically a long leather strap with a polished stone attached to it. The stone is a rusty brown with streaks of gold going through it.
Item. Tiger’s Eye Pendant. Removes one debuff. Cooldown: 10 minutes. A rare stone believed to ward off evil and bring balance to life.
Chief Rizza takes the necklace and ties it around my neck.
“Trolls are not known as great metalworkers or weaponsmiths. Mostly, we use our own powerful bodies and sharp claws and they serve us well, but the time may come when you need a weapon. This one has been passed down for many generations.” Jira reaches in the box and pulls out a glittering double-edged battle-axe. The handle has several engravings that run along its edges and three empty sockets where stones once sat. “Long ago, before the trolls were so despised, this axe was given to the great troll warrior, Gohma, by the dwarven weaponsmith, Kerrus Silverhammer. It has several sockets that can be set with enchanted stones to make the weapon stronger. It is a weapon fit for a hero. Its name is Peacemaker.”
Item. Peacemaker. An enchanted battle-axe capable of taking on the properties of up to 3 attached stones. +3 Strength. A relic from another age given as a symbol of peace and fortune among allies.
From the bottom of the chest, Jira pulls out several green and red vials and places them in a small leather pouch.
“These should help if you fall into trouble.”
Item. Health Potion. Restores 100 HP over 10 seconds. X5
Item. Potion of Greater Stamina. Increases stamina for 5 minutes. X3
Item. Potion of Greater Resilience. Increases total HP by 10% for 5 minutes. X3
He closes the lid and covers the chest. I have the feeling there are more items inside that I couldn’t see.
“Oh, and one more thing.” He hands me a large satchel. It’s filled with pouches and compartments and has an actual leather strap for carrying. “The bag you were carrying looked like it was made by a child. Your leather skills definitely need some work. Perhaps when you return, Ahso can take you under her wing. Unfortunately, this is all we can offer you for now. Anything else you need you must find along the way.”
“Now, come,” says the chief. “I will walk you to our borders and see you off.”
I’m not sure exactly where the village border ends or how to tell, but Chief Rizza comes to a stop a
nd I know this is where we say our good-byes. In such a short time, I feel like I’ve already grown attached to the place and to the people. All except for Gord, he can sit on a pointy stick for all I care. It’s going to be an adventure, but at least I feel like I have something worth fighting for.
“Good luck, Chod. You are our hero now. The fate of the village depends on you. Once you reach the obstruction and clear it, return here at once.” With a quick turn, her braid whips through the air and I’m left watching as she walks away.
I thought she was supposed to be watching me go.
“Chief Rizza,” I call out and she turns her head. “How will I know how to clear the obstruction?”
“I cannot answer that. We don’t know what has stopped the flow of magic, but I have no doubt you will figure it out.”
Looking at my map, my destination feels far away.
12. Muck it Up
Peacemaker is a massive axe, even by troll standards. So big that I can’t imagine a human being able to lift it. It cuts through branches and vines with ease as I noisily make my way through the forest. Even after all these years, the blade has remained sharp.
The three sockets that run down the side of the handle are what really interest me. The item description says that it takes on the properties of whatever magical stones are inserted in them. The power of this axe is only limited by the enchanted stones I am able to find. My mind runs wild with possibilities of an axe that deals fire damage or increases my movement speed even further, making me a giant fucking ninja troll.
I need to find out where the stones are.
Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about enchanted stones or how to find them, and neither Jira nor the chief seemed too concerned about telling me. There could be a million different ways of getting them. Dungeons, quests, special monsters. If only I wasn’t bound by my bad reputation and the ability to speak only one language, then I could ask one of the more magically inclined races.
As it is, I’m on my own.
I’m minding my own business, walking through the forest, when something hits me in the side of the face with a splat. My health drops by a tick and a cool gooey substance slowly slides down my face and falls to the ground. The mud-like substance moves across the forest floor like some sentient mud pie and disappears into an even larger pool of goo.
Sludge. Level 8. Though not the smartest of creatures, sludges are hard to kill and even harder to get your hands on. They can only be destroyed by killing the core, which can move to any part of its body. Some are even known to hide poisonous stingers beneath their slimy exterior.
“Can’t a guy just walk in peace?” I ask the sludge, but there is no response, just a dull gurgle from inside.
Instead, a ghost-like pile of sludge rises from the pool and tosses another mud pie at me.
“Alright, you walking pile of diarrhea, let’s go!” I take off after the sludge, but immediately notice I’m moving slower. My normal troll movements that I’ve grown accustomed to feel almost…human. I pull up the notifications from the background to see what is going on.
Alert! You have been slowed. Movement and attack speed reduced by 50%.
Well, that’s annoying. Another mud pie comes whizzing by. I attempt to dodge it, but the debuff makes it impossible for me to move out of the way and it hits me in the chest, turning my green skin a murky brown.
Remembering the Tiger’s Eye Pendant that Jira gave to me, I mentally activate its ability, removing the slow, and immediately move faster. The sludge tosses another mud pie, but this time, it sails over my shoulder as I shift to the side. I can’t get hit again because the cooldown on the pendant is ten minutes.
I cover the distance between me and the sludge in a few quick steps and bring down my axe with a mighty swing. It cuts through the sludge but does no damage at all. Instead, the sludge seems to move around the blade, almost as if it’s cutting through water.
“You have got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to kill something I can’t hit?”
A long, scorpion-like tail rises from behind the sludge and strikes at me like a cobra. I jump to the side and it whirs through the air where I had just stood. Something hard and metallic protrudes from the end of the tail.
A stinger!
It strikes again, and I swipe at it with my axe, severing the tail. The stinger falls to the ground and crawls back to the host.
I have no idea how I am supposed to kill this thing when it can separate at will.
The damage I’ve taken has given me enough rage to use Intimidation. I let out a roar, expecting to confuse the sludge, but nothing happens. It rises as tall as me and six tentacles sprout out, assaulting me with mud balls. Unable to dodge them all, several of them hit me, slowing me and dropping my health down to seventy percent. Little by little, they are wearing me down. I might just have to say screw it and bail.
While I am still slowed, the sludge shrinks back down, retracting its multiple arms. Its stinger rises in the air and hovers like a snake about to strike.
Pain runs through my chest as the stinger penetrates my skin. Ten percent of my health vanishes instantly. My HP continues to drop as a throbbing pain traces from the wound and down my right arm.
Poison.
If only I hadn’t wasted my pendant’s ability, I could cleanse the poison. I grab one of the health potions from my bag and down it in one gulp. It battles with the poison as my health drops and rises, drops and rises, caught in a tide of life and death.
Another barrage of mud flies into me, dropping my health by a chunk. I take the other two health potions and my health begins to recover faster than the poison can drain me.
Moving at a snail’s pace, I’m still unable to dodge the incoming stinger and pain flares through my left shoulder.
I’m about to die to a soggy turd alone in the forest. If I had invested points into Iron Will, then I could at least null the effects of the slow for long enough to run away. As it is, I’m pretty sure the sludge could chase me down if I tried to run.
Then I remember. Berserker Rage.
I activate the ability, and immediately the slow disappears and the poison vanishes from my system. My health ticks up and my muscles seem to pulse with power.
I hack at the sludge with violent enthusiasm. The edge of my vision glows red, which I assume is a side effect of full rage. I hack and slash at the amorphous blob, separating it into delicious-looking nougats that flutter around the forest floor. The stinger rises again, but I cut it down before it can attack and punt it deep into the forest. I continue to chop like a lumberjack on cocaine, but somehow, I’m unable to locate the sludge’s core. With no way to beat the creature, I take off running into the woods before my rage wears off.
Sometimes you just have to know when to bail. As much as I would have loved to spend all day cutting chocolate, I have a quest to complete.
I wasted all three health potions for no reward, but at least I’m still alive.
I make it a few miles before I hear a rustle in the bushes and a lone wolf steps out into my path. Finally, something I can actually kill, hopefully quickly, and be on my way.
Forest Wolf. Level 7. Quick and powerful, a wolf is not to be trifled with.
The beast snarls, revealing a set of sharp teeth intent on seeing just how tough my troll skin is.
“Let’s dance,” I goad the wolf, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, two more wolves emerge from the bush.
Just my luck.
I don’t wait for the pack to surround me. I attack with a mighty slash that gashes the first wolf on the shoulder. He yelps in pain and the other two wolves bite at my ankles. My health dips and dark blue blood streaks down my feet and stains the forest floor.
Before I know what is happening, a fourth wolf pounces me from behind and a sharp pain flares through my shoulder as it sinks its teeth in.
Without thinking, I grab the beast by its neck and throw it into a nearby tree. It collapses to the ground and sways back and for
th as it tries to regain its footing.
At four against one, the odds are not in my favor. Not that they ever will be in this game. I’ve lost twenty percent of my health from the three attacks, but it’s already regenerating.
I swing my axe back and forth in an arc in front of me, keeping the wolves at bay while I attempt to come up with a plan. I only have twenty rage at the moment, but that is enough to use Intimidation. I roar, and the wolves’ eyes roll in opposite directions, confused.
With a sweeping strike, I manage to hit all three wolves in one blow, gaining me fifteen rage off one attack. I use Bite and Claw at once, sinking my teeth into the middle wolf’s neck while simultaneously raking my claws across its chest. When I toss it aside, it doesn’t get up.
The confusion wears off, and the other two wolves attack just as the dazed wolf that bit my shoulder regains its footing. My axe catches one wolf as he lunges and scores a critical hit to his head, but the other manages to bite me in the side. It lets go and retreats just as I reach for it.
My body stings all over from the attacks and I find it hard to focus.
Shaking my head, I push the pain to the back of my mind. If I die, I’ll probably lose all the items that they gave me. What kind of hero would I be if that happened?
Taking a step back, I try to assess the situation. Just because I can take the damage they are dishing out, it doesn’t mean I have to. The wolves come forward and begin circling around me. If I let them, they’ll attack from my blind side and try to weaken me that way.
I take a stamina and strength potion, close my eyes, and listen. Their heavy breathing is the closest thing to me, so I try to pinpoint it. There’s an intake of air behind me just before I feel a stabbing pain in my calf. I open my eyes and kick out, but the wolf has already returned to circling. Another wolf digs into my other leg as I turn away and it retreats just as quickly.
Hot blood trickles down my leg, no doubt increasing the fervor of the wolves. I push it away and close my eyes again, listening to their breathing. My heart pounds in response to the two potions.
Sentenced to Troll Page 8
