Neck-Deep In It: A LitRPG and GameLit Series.

by Jason Cheek

  As Warptooth the Thunderstrike reared its head back into the air to roar in pure agony, Zeven used the upward momentum to help drive his clawed feet deep into the monster’s soft palate as the Spirit Lochaber of Chieftain Diongmhalta’s ironwood shaft snapped like kindling. Immediately, the serpent’s jaws slammed closed like a bear trap as the Elite Beithir began trying to forcibly swallow him. Undaunted by the corrosive saliva sloughing the skin off his muscles or the sandpaper-rough tongue pummeling his burning body, Zeven began pulling out fistfuls of flesh like a Badger Kin possessed.

  All reasoning left him as Zeven went into full berserk mode. Bellowing in wordless fury, he drove into the Elite Beithir with everything he had. As the Mini-Boss mindlessly used its foreclaws to tear bloody rivulets through its own scaly flesh, Zeven drove himself deeper and deeper into the meaty flesh, using his clawed feet and fists … even his fangs to widen the terrible wound as he sought the monster’s brain.

  In truth, Zeven had given up on any hope of surviving this ordeal. His only goal now was to inflict as much damage as possible to the evil monster that had consumed nearly everyone within the Dwarven town. Not just consumed them, Zeven thoughts raged as he mentally pictured the still living Dwarves being eaten alive. His only goal now was to hurt the Mini-Boss enough that, just maybe, he could spare the lives of the three remaining children that were hiding with Bright Claw in the smithy.

  Tears of blood ran down the ruined remains of Zeven’s proud face as his hit point bar began flashing the all too familiar red of approaching death. A part of his mind silently raged for being an idiot and not recasting any of his magic shields or even a new heal before he’d gotten too deep. There was no way that Zeven could possibly do it now that he was literally swimming in blood and viscera.

  Zeven felt his body start to slow down as the lack of oxygen and the devastating damage took its toll. Even though he could barely drive himself forward any more due to his weakening condition, Zeven slashed all around him trying to do the maximum amount of damage before he died. ‘Fuck,’ he mentally screamed in anguish, not wanting to lose after all of this, when suddenly a trumpet like sound rang in his head and relief flooded his ruined body as a system window popped open before his stunned eyes.

  People of The World rejoice! Zeven Al'Zaric has ended the rein of Warptooth the Thunderstrike in the Kingdom of Sayr!

  Confused and disoriented, Zeven didn’t read any further due to the dire situation he was currently in. All that he cared about was that his HUD showed that his hit point and mana bars were now completely full and that the Warptooth the Thunderstrike was dead. Not that Zeven could cast any heals, but hopefully the extra health would give him the time he needed to make his escape. It would really suck if he managed to kill the Mini-Boss only to suffocate in its rotting corpse after healing on a level up.

  Like a drowning man swimming for the surface of a lake, Zeven clawed through the blood and gore around him for all he was worth. It was impossible to know if he was heading in the right direction or not. While he could’ve turned around and headed back the way he’d come, Zeven worried that he would only end up trapped in the serpent’s tightly closed maw, being forced to break through the Mini-Boss’s fangs or jawbone to free himself. That seemed like a losing proposition in his quickly weakening state.

  As his lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and his hit point bar began to shrink, Zeven’s fist suddenly hit what felt like solid bone. With a last desperate effort just as his health dropped below half, he punched at the blockage with all of his might, doing his best to brace himself against the meaty goop that surrounded him. That unfortunately didn’t seem to be doing much of anything to help, so Zeven began slashing at the blockage with his Spirit Biter enhanced claws.

  Feeling the tips of his fingers break through, Zeven took a solid grip to brace himself and began smashing at the thick bone with his other fist. He lost track as to how many hits it took to break through but finally the bone gave way under his blows. In that second, all that Zeven could think of was the burning in his lungs as he began smashing a hole big enough for his entire body to fit through.

  In his mind, Zeven could visualize the wonderful oxygen just a few feet away. Ignoring the jagged bones tearing gouges in his chest and back, he forced his way through the break as his claws made quick work of the serpent’s scales. As his health warningly flashed red and dropped below a hundred, Zeven shoved his clawed fist into fresh air. With a guttural scream, he shoved his other arm through and tore away enough skin and scales to push the tip of his muzzle through to draw in a ragged breath of air.

  In that second, Zeven would’ve sworn that first breath was better than any sex that he’d ever had. For a long moment, all that he could do was breathe in and out as his head lolled back in relief at surviving the monstrous encounter. Even with access to fresh air, Zeven was surprised to see that his hit points only seemed to be refreshing to three-quarters of his total health. Letting out a deep sigh, he widened the hole enough to pull his now mostly naked furry body free of the carcass that had nearly become his tomb.

  Collapsing onto his broad back in the viscera-goo covered cobblestones of the town square, Zeven cast a Soothing Wind spell to heal the deep bloody gashes that covered his chest and back as he took a moment to heal. It was about all that Zeven could make himself do as he looked over at the dead Mini-Boss’s corpse. Seeing the gaping hole on the top of the serpent’s head, Zeven realized that he’d luckily guessed right about the direction that he needed to travel to exit out of the Elite Beithir’s skull, when he suddenly made another connection.

  “Who would’ve ever thought that Star Wars of all movies would’ve ended up saving my life in a battle like this,” Zeven suddenly said out loud as he let out a bark of laugher. While he’d give Luke Skywalker props for coming up with a halfway decent plan for dealing with the Rancor in Return of the Jedi, as far as Zeven was concerned, Luke was still pussy for not staying with the bone brace and killing the Rancor by hand.

  Though, thinking back to how his skin had been sloughing off his body from the Elite Beithir’s saliva, Zeven had to admit that maybe Luke had a valid reason after all. Shaking the disgusting thought away, he maximized the system messages that he’d minimized earlier and began to read.

  People of The World rejoice! Zeven Al'Zaric has ended the rein of Warptooth the Thunderstrike in the Kingdom of Sayr!

  Quest completed! End the bane of Warptooth the Thunderstrike in the Kingdom of Sayr (Secret Open World Quest)!

  Mournscreamer the Thunderstrike’s evil brood has terrorized the races of The World for centuries. Removing one of her cruel children is a boon to all living beings.

  Objective: End the life of Warptooth the Thunderstrike before the Elite Beithir can cause more pain and suffering in The World.

  Difficulty: Nightmare.

  Reward: Title earned, Beithir Slayer. You are now known to NPCs. Reputation with all factions in The World increased or decreased accordingly by 4000. Places in The World that were once closed to you are now open. Leaders where you pass through will seek you out. The House of Bruic Diongmhalta is now hated by the Thunderstrike Clan and will be hunted down for their transgressions.

  Zeven’s mouth silently opened and closed as he read over the message. He took out a fucking World Boss on his own and got a title for it too. He couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that came to his lips. Beithir Slayer was a pretty badass title. Though Zeven was curious about the whole “places in The World that was once closed to you are now open and leaders will seek you out,” it was probably just fluff for the message to make it sound more impressive. What concerned him more was the part about the House of Bruic Diongmhalta is hated by the Thunderstrike Clan and will be hunted down for their transgressions. Did monsters really have their own Clans in the world?

  Whatever, Zeven dismissively thought, it just meant more loot and experience for his people down the road if that really was a thing. The more disconcerting issue was that the e
ntire world had been notified of Zeven’s kill and that he was now in the Kingdom of Sayr. Covering his eyes with a forearm, Zeven let out a frustrated sigh. So much for trying to keep his location secret from those triple “A” assholes, he thought, before continuing scrolling through the rest of the system messages.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 34.

  You have 5 Attribute Points Unspent!

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Strength.

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Stamina.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 35.

  You have 5 Attribute Points Unspent!

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Strength.

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Stamina.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 36.

  You have 5 Attribute Points Unspent!

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Strength.

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Stamina.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 37.

  You have 5 Attribute Points Unspent!

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Strength.

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Stamina.

  Congratulations! You have reached level 38.

  You have 5 Attribute Points Unspent!

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Strength.

  You have gained 1 Attribute Point in Stamina.

  Congratulations! You have successfully completed the Open-World Quest Save the Dwarves in the Mining Town of Kragrock from being slaughtered. You have saved three Dwarves. You have gained 3000 Experience Points. You have gained 300 points to Reputation. You gained the title, Noble Guardian.

  “Holy shit!” Zeven exclaimed under his breath as he read through the five level ups. Not that he expected to kill a World Boss like that on his own every time but damn that was sweet. So was the whole Noble Guardian title, he mentally shook his head, and that last quest’s experience points came after his level-up. Looking at his experience bar, Zeven was excited to see that it was well on its way to the next level already.

  “A few more quests like that,” Zeven mumbled as he scrolled down to the end of the system message, “and I might want to go another round with those triple “A” assholes.”

  “That’s a good thing to hear,” a familiar gruff voice said out of nowhere, “because I’ve got something that needs doing.”

  “You’re still alive?” Zeven exclaimed, shooting to a sitting position in alarm only to see the whitish glowing outline of Borear Hammertoe standing next to him.

  “Not quite, Beasty Boy,” the old Dwarf sadly joked, before noticing the unhappy look that crossed Zeven’s face, “I mean, Zeven.”

  “It’s okay,” Zeven said, waving the slur away as he looked around at the other ghostly shapes filling the town’s square. After fighting together, he had no doubts that the old Dwarf was only joking. “I think I can let that slide with the whole …” He paused unsure how to proceed.

  “Being dead thing?” Hammertoe helpfully asked, as he held out a calloused hand to help Zeven up.

  “Yeah, that,” Zeven agreed, only to be surprised when he was able to grasp the old Dwarf’s ghostly hand without an issue.

  “It’s because of your Spirit magic,” Hammertoe explained at Zeven’s obvious confusion, before nodding to the white glow on his claws. “I noticed the buff during the fight. Though, not every Spectral practitioner can actually interact directly with Spirits like you obviously can.”

  “I used that Spirit Seeker spell for the first time,” Zeven said in the way of an explanation as he thought back to the fight and the bluish-white blade on the old Dwarf’s hammer, “the Spirit Cleaver spell.”

  “You got it the first try,” Hammertoe approvingly said, “Though, it’s actually part of my Clan’s Spectral Smithing magic.” Seeing that Zeven wanted to ask more question, the old Dwarf raised his hands up to forestall any further question. “That’s kind of a long story and I don’t really have much time left in this world Zeven.”

  “Umm yeah, sorry about that,” Zeven automatically apologized, not really understanding what the old Dwarf meant. He was a ghost so where did he really have to go? Zeven mentally paused at that thought. Maybe ghosts had to go somewhere, otherwise he would’ve noticed a lot more before now … right? Shaking the random thoughts away, he focused back on the old Dwarf while glancing at the town’s square, suddenly realizing that there seemed to be less Spirits around than before.

  “While the townsfolk of Kragrock and I thank you for coming to our aid and defeating the monster that razed our town,” Hammertoe’s voice turned suddenly grave, “my grandchild who is the future Chieftain of the Hammertoe Clan and two other children are the only survivors of Warptooth the Thunderstrike’s brutal attack. I am here to ask that you bring them and my smithing hammer, Shadowbane of Clan Hammertoe, to my daughter, Avna Hammertoe, in Aeroch Nor.”

  “You mean the Dwarven capital?” Zeven choked out in surprise as a new system window popped open before his eyes.

  New Quest! Bring Mutoline Hammertoe, along with the other surviving Dwarven children, and the smith’s hammer, Shadowbane of Clan Hammertoe, back to Aeroch Nor (Secret Quest - Evolving)!

  Borear Hammertoe was the leader of his Clan and had his granddaughter with him in the Mining Town of Kragrock to learn about the Clan’s holdings. Mutoline Hammertoe and the other two surviving Dwarven children need to be brought back to Aeroch Nor to rejoin the remaining members of their Clan. Borear’s smithing hammer, Shadowbane of the Clan of Hammertoe, is the symbol of the Clan of Hammertoe’s power and should be delivered to Avna Hammertoe, Borear’s daughter, who is now the Chieftain of the Clan. Without that symbol of their power, the Clan of Hammertoe will cease to exist.

  Warning! If you accept this quest and fail, the Clan of Hammertoe and all Dwarves will consider you an oath breaker and an enemy to all Dwarven kind!

  Difficulty: Hard.

  Reward: Experience and Reputation with the Clan of Hammertoe and the Kingdom of Sayr.

  Accept: Yes / No

  Reading through the specifics of the quest, Zeven pulled up his World map to see how far out of the way Aeroch Nor would be for his quest to save Nahi. After a second, he realized that it was more or less on the way. While not just simply accepting the dead Dwarf’s request and all might’ve seemed rude to some players, Zeven had his own stuff to take care of. That, and he honestly didn’t want to be stuck taking a bunch of side quests before going to rescue his companion. Besides the horrors she was enduring every day with whoever had kidnaped her, she hopefully was the key to finding the remaining survivors of his Clan.

  “I’ll throw in repairing your own polearm for free,” Hammertoe desperately said, trying to encourage Zeven to take up his offer.

  “My Spirit Lochaber,” Zeven exclaimed, racing for the other side of the monster’s head with the old Dwarf’s spirit anxiously following. Seeing the broken pieces of the Spirit Lochaber of Chieftain Diongmhalta scattered across the town’s square, he hurriedly began gathering up the pieces and inspecting the damage. It wasn’t just the ironwood shaft that had snapped, but the head of the polearm itself had been snapped in half mid-blade.

  “Your Clan’s unique powers will be inaccessible to you until its physical symbol in The World is made whole again,” Hammertoe apologetically said, as he floated up to inspect the damage.

  “Inaccessible,” Zeven asked in confusion.

  “More or less,” the old Dwarf said, “you’ll have your current abilities as they are now, but you won’t be able to learn more of the unique magic until the symbol of your Clan has been restored.”

  “Well, fuck,” Zeven said just as a thunderous hiss suddenly rang out behind them. The sound made his balls tighten up in terror as he whirled around ready to fight with the partial head and shaft of his broken polearm held at the ready. Instead of seeing another Elite Beithir, he was surprised to see the ghostly spirit of Warptooth the Thunderstrike filling the town pla
za behind him, while the rest of the Dwarven spirits had all disappeared but for the old Dwarf.

  “Ah, don’t worry about that impotent fool,” Hammertoe sneered as he looked up at the massive serpent that towered over them, “An evil soul like that is going to draw the Shades in from the Realm of Shadows like fresh meat to a starving pack of Dire Wolves.” As if in response to the old Dwarf’s words, an eerie ghostly howl rang out from far away. It was quickly joined by other spine-chilling calls from all around them as a panicked look came to Hammertoe’s face. One that oddly seemed to be mirrored on the Elite Beithir’s as its massive head fretfully scanned the horizon.

  “There’s not much time left for me here Zeven,” Hammertoe explained, laying a ghostly hand on his shoulder that Zeven swore he could almost feel as the old Dwarf made his emotional plea, “I need to know now whether you’ll escort my granddaughter back to Aeroch Nor or not. Her life and that of the other children are in your hands.”

  “I’m willing,” Zeven unhappily said with a sigh. Mentally selecting “Yes” for the quest, he tried to justify his hesitation while the chorus of howls continued to draw near surprisingly fast, “it’s just that I’m on a quest to save the survivors of my own shattered Clan.”

  “You’re an honorable one Zeven,” Hammertoe said, instantly understanding where Zeven was coming from, “I knew that when I first saw you coming to Bristletoe’s aid.” As the old Dwarf’s form began to shimmer and fade away, he reached out to grip Zeven’s wrist.

  “I give you this mark to show everyone that you are an honorary member of the Clan of Hammertoe.” As soon as the words left the ghostly Dwarf’s mouth, Zeven was shocked to feel a burning pain as an ornate Celtic-looking symbol was suddenly seared into the inner-side of his wrist like a magic brand. “As long as you hold to your personal honor with action and deed, you will be considered a clansman to the Dwarves of my Clan.”