Drake's LitRPG Megabundle (7 Books)

by Adam Drake

  He yanked it out.

  You have taken an item: Walnut Scroll Case

  Durability 15/15

  Used to store a single scroll, protecting it from most elements.

  Value: 50 Copper Pieces.

  Yes! He thought, as he slid the box into a Holding Bag. Now to get out of this death trap.

  But as he turned a figure appeared in the doorway.

  Rob's surprise at having his escape blocked became utter shock when he recognized the intruder.

  A goblin stood before him. It was missing an arm, and a dead chicken dangled from its mouth.

  Chicken goblin looked even worse than before, only now he had a jagged piece of wood jutting through his back and out his chest. Wide crazy eyes locked onto Rob with an insanity that couldn't be described.

  Gripped in its remaining hand was Rob's sword.

  “Uh, oh,” Rob said, stunned.

  Despite its horrific injuries, the goblin lurched forward with determination, screaming. It swung the sword.

  Now at a point he could barely move, Rob was unable to avoid the attack. But the damage the goblin had endured effected the power behind its swing.

  As the sword struck Rob's side, it barely caused any damage. Unable to hold on any longer, the goblin dropped the sword as it slammed into Rob.

  Both fell to the floor, the goblin on top. The piece of wood through its chest pinned into the floorboard next to Rob's head. The creature savagely clawed at his face, spittle frothing from its mouth.

  Rob pushed at the goblin with both hands, but despite its smaller size, he was unable to heave it off. Its long fingernails scratched at his face and neck, drawing blood.

  Rob shouted, fighting to keep this thing from shredding him to bits.

  From above a fiery beam snapped and fell. It landed across their legs, pinning them together. Rob's pants caught on fire.

  In full panic, Rob thrashed beneath his tormentor, and his hand struck against something at his belt.

  The steel dagger.

  Ignoring the fire burning at his legs and the fingers that raked at his eyes, Rob grabbed the dagger.

  With tremendous effort he pushed against the wood that pierced the goblin's chest with his other hand, forcing it up a few inches.

  The goblin suddenly arched its back in pain and shrieked, the dead chicken falling from its open mouth.

  With little manoeuvrability, Rob slashed up the goblin's body with the dagger, and across its throat. Blood gushed from the wound and the goblin went limp on top of him.

  Rob sputtered, drenched in the creature's blood. He pushed and heaved until it slid off his body and the movement freed his legs from the fallen beam.

  Fully aware his clothes were on fire, Rob crawled across the floor as quickly as he could. At the doorway, he pushed himself up into a crouch and stumbled outside.

  Behind him, he heard the little building collapse. But he didn't care. He was on fire!

  Shrieking like a little girl he stumbled across the clearing. The heavy rain created muddy pools and Rob did a face plant into the closest one. He rolled around in the water until the flames which enveloped him were doused.

  No longer on fire, he lay in the muddy puddle, relieved, still panting and wheezing like a flogged racehorse. The pain across his entire body was beyond belief.

  But he was alive.

  Eventually, he propped himself up into a sitting position. He was covered in mud, and burns, and cuts and blood. Around him was the carnage he'd created; a collapsed barn, a burning homestead and a bunch of dead bastard goblins.

  He took all this in and reached a sobering conclusion.

  “I suck at questing,” he said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Since wallowing in the mud wasn't getting him anywhere, Rob pulled himself over to a post and sat against it. His exhaustion felt like a heavy weight dragging down on his entire body.

  The little farmhouse was a charred wreck, smoke still billowing from its remains. Despite the rain, flames continued to flicker deep within its wounds.

  With a ponderous effort, he took out his last Minor Potions of Healing, and clinked them together. He regarded the resulting Medium potion. This was the last bit of healing ability he had left. The only potions remaining in his inventory were the two Major Potions of Restore Mana, which were useless to him.

  With a sigh, he quaffed the potion. As his Hit Points quickly replenished, he watched the last of the house fires burn out.

  That could have been handled better, he thought. He'd made too many mistakes from the get-go. Once the other goblins revealed themselves, he should've run to the doorway, forcing them to come to him one at a time. And if he couldn't do that, then maybe put his back to a wall, or a tree. Anything that would prevent him from getting surrounded.

  He looked down at himself. His pants and jacket were scorched, but mostly intact. The cool looking blood-colored cloak had burnt to nothing. The gash on his shin was gone, with only the bloody tear in his pant-leg as a reminder. His left side and shoulder ached. Those wounds appeared as puckered scabs, raw and swollen.

  The Medium Potion only gave him 70% of his maximum hit points. He checked his stats. 85. 70 plus the remainder he already had left. Almost fully healed, but not quite. His energy now sat at 15/100. At least that was regenerating on its own. Faster than his hit points, but annoyingly slow.

  He idly wondered if there was a potion to speed up stamina regeneration.

  The rain grew stronger and beat at his bare head. He'd lost his helmet at some point, and the dagger too. Probably when he was running around on fire.

  He looked to the east and scanned the trees. The frightened look the goblin mage had given him hopefully meant it wouldn't be returning with friends.

  But if more goblins did come, what then?

  Sensing an urgent need to rearm himself he got to his feet. The horrible pain was gone, replaced by an ache down his left side. But he could move around unhindered.

  He frowned at the mud and brown pools of water. If the dagger was in there, he'd never find it. As he gingerly made his way over to the shattered house, he spotted his upturned helmet on the ground, full of rain water. He dumped it out and plopped it on his head.

  The body of the Sword goblin lay contorted in the mud next to the house. He noticed a pocket in its ragged pants and searched it. All that he found was a single copper piece.

  Of the house, only the doorframe remained standing. The charred wood of the roof and walls created a pile in the middle. His sword was in there. The bastard goblin had it, and now it was buried.

  If any goblins did show up, the only thing in his arsenal to defend himself with would be harsh language. He needed his sword.

  Carefully, he poked around the area he fought the goblin, until he spotted the hilt sticking out from under a smoldering beam. He tapped it with a finger, seeing if it was too hot to grab, but it was only warm.

  He pulled it out and a pile of debris crumpled inward, kicking up smoke which forced him away and back in the mud outside.

  The sword was intact but its durability had dropped, along with its value.

  Steel Sword

  Damage: 4-8, Durability: 20/30

  Value: 7 Silver Pieces.

  He gave it a few experimental swings and found it still usable. Returning it to its sheath at his hip, he walked over to the collapsed barn. There he found the corpse of a goblin, the one which used the dagger. A quick search revealed the weapon sticking out of the mud. He picked it up and cleaned it off.

  You have taken an item: Rusty Dagger

  Damage: 1-3, Durability: 12/15

  Value: 2 Silver Pieces.

  Since he'd lost his other dagger, this one would have to do. He slid it in his belt.

  He took a few minutes to find the axe from the other goblin but he didn't have the energy to rummage through all the wreckage of the barn.

  Sighing with frustration, he looked at the copper piece in his hand and the rusty dagger.

&nb
sp; That was it. His loot from this disaster.

  He shook his head. Could the situation be more pathetic?

  The doorframe suddenly tipped over and crashed to the ground. Then, a message appeared.

  You have failed the Quest: 'Goblins Amok'.

  Instead of securing the farmstead, you have destroyed it while allowing a goblin to escape to warn others.

  Reward: 0 experience points.

  Rob suppressed the urge to scream. That sucked. Sure, he screwed up big time, but it could have given him some experience points for trying.

  At least he got experience points for killing the goblins, right?

  Uncertainty made him check his combat log. Turned out, he only received 100 experience points each for two of them; Sword goblin, and Chicken goblin.

  He didn't get anything for the other two, as Axe goblin was killed by the falling barn, and Dagger goblin was accidentally stabbed in the back by Sword goblin.

  Rob ground his teeth together with frustration. He went through all of this for 200 measly experience points, a crappy dagger and one single copper piece.

  He was a mighty Adventurer King, indeed.

  The scroll!

  His disappointment vanished as he fished out the long narrow case. The rain made its walnut finish turn a darker brown. But when he tried to open it, he received a warning.

  Opening this case will expose the enclosed scroll to water.

  Do you still wish to open it? Yes/No?

  Oops. He looked around for a dry place. He spotted a large tree nearby and hurried under it only to find the rain seeping down through its branches. Finally, he found a rocky overhang a few paces away, the space beneath dry.

  Like a kid on christmas morning, Rob opened the case.

  There, nestled in cloth was a rolled up parchment. He took a moment to wipe off his hands as best he could, then carefully took out the scroll and unfurled it.

  Item taken: Spell Scroll of Light.

  Required Intelligence: 12

  Mana Cost: 5

  Chase away the darkness. Grants the ability to create a sphere of light around the caster. Duration 3 hours.

  The scroll was square shaped with one side covered in words. Rob squinted at them. They appeared to be some type of gibberish.

  “What the hell?” He said in confusion. How was he expected to learn this if he couldn't read it?

  A message appeared over the strange scrawl.

  You lack the knowledge to comprehend the contents of this scroll. Required Intelligence: 12.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Rob shouted, anger boiling up inside him. He couldn't use the damn scroll, yet? What kind of crap was this?

  Shaking with anger, he fought the impulse to rip the scroll into shreds. But he controlled himself, and after several moments of cursing into the rain, he calmed down.

  He remembered what Saif had said about Intelligence and learning spells. He'd just have to wait until the next damn level and he'd put both damn Attribute points into his damn Intelligence, and then he could learn the damn spell.

  “Okay, fine!” he said, putting the scroll back into the case, and slipped it into his bag.

  Hands on his hips, he glared over the ruined farmstead, the house still billowing smoke. This was starting out to be a really crappy day so far. He needed something to turn it around. But his options were limited. He could return to camp and then what? Go back to sulking in his shack? There weren't any Health potions there for him to stock up with, either.

  And if he were being completely honest with himself, he didn't want to face Breddin and tell him, 'Oops, sorry but I destroyed your barn and burned down your house. Can I still be your King?'

  He sighed and rubbed his aching shoulder. No, going back to camp wasn't going to make his situation better. In fact, it may make it worse if his subjects saw how pathetic he was. There was only one alternative.

  He needed to finish some quests.

  With a thought, he pulled up the rat quest information.

  'Rat-A-Pocolypse'

  Rats have infested the northern end of the swamp. Find their lair and kill its queen.

  Reward: 500 experience points.

  All right, now that sounded doable. Rats had to be easier than goblins. He opened his Scroll of Location.

  He noticed that the map changed the name of 'Farmstead' to 'Ruins of Farmstead'. Wonderful. To the southeast of where he stood was a red question mark with the words 'Rat's Lair'. Judging from the distance it didn't look too far away.

  Okay, that's a good a start as any. Before he closed up the Scroll he noticed another mark. Far on the other side of the Eastern Forest, at the edge of the Eastern Mountains, was another red question mark labeled 'Goblin Hideout'.

  You have found a quest: 'Destroy the Goblin Hideout.'

  Somewhere deep in the Eastern Forest, the Feral Goblin Clan has built a hideout. Find and destroy it.

  Reward: 3,000 experience points.

  “Oh, great,” he said. “More goblins.” He really didn't feel like dealing with any more today. And, looking at the experience point reward, it probably meant there'd be a lot of the little bastards.

  Nope. Not now. He'd stick with the rats, thank you.

  He put away the Scroll of Location and checked his vital stats.

  90/100 Hit Points.

  55/100 Energy.

  Although relieved to see them regenerating, they certainly took their sweet time. He decided to settle in and leave when they maxed out.

  It was then he noticed the stack of notifications at the bottom of his vision, so he decided to kill time and pulled the first one up.

  You have advanced in Basic Swordsmanship! Skill has increased from 16% to 18%.

  You have advanced in Basic Defense! Skill has increased from 12% to 13%.

  You have advanced in Basic Shield! Skill has increased from 12% to 14%.

  You have advanced in Block! Skill has increased from 14% to 15%.

  You have advanced in Basic Combat Attunement! Skill has increased from 10% to 11%.

  You have advanced in Shield Bash! Skill has increased from 8% to 9%.

  There you go! Finally, some actual progression. Even though he failed the quest, and got practically no experience points, his skills did increase. This made Rob feel a little better although not by much. Getting those skill increases had nearly killed him.

  There were more notifications.

  You have killed a Goblin (Feral Clan). You have earned 100 experience points toward your next level.

  You have killed a Goblin (Feral Clan). You have earned 100 experience points toward your next level.

  Your Character's Reputation with the Feral Goblin Clan has changed to Despised -45%.

  Rob blinked at the last message. “What the hell is my Character's Reputation?”

  A prompt appeared:

  Robert Barron's Reputation

  Goblin (Feral Clan): Despised -45%

  Kingdom of Anika Subjects: Liked +32%

  Whoa. The goblins really didn't like him and for good reason. He wondered what could be worse than Despised? If he hit -100%, would he then become Loathed?

  The Kingdom of Anika Subjects was interesting. His subjects liked him, but not at a high percentage. What would happen if that dropped to zero? Would he become hated? Actually, the more he thought about it the more annoyed he got. Why only 32%? Didn't he just save the entire Kingdom from complete annihilation? Shouldn't he be Loved? Or, at least, Adored? Wasn't he out here, now, fighting and bleeding for them?

  He shook his head. What was he getting all worked up over this for? Those numbers were just another annoying set of stats he needed to deal with.

  The headache he woke up with, which had begun to fad away, started to get worse.

  Thinking on stats, he remembered he received new ones after killing Perrin. Curious, he looked them over.

  Hit Bonus: 1%

  Critical Hit: 1%

  Critical Damage: 1%

  That was a lot of
1s. But what good were they?

  Hit Bonus grants an additional chance of hitting an opponent with physical based attacks (Melee or Ranged).

  So he had a tiny 1% extra chance at striking something with his sword? Was there a way to raise it? No other information appeared, so he looked at the next one.

  Critical Hit grants a chance that a physical based hit (Melee or Ranged) will give (x2) double damage.

  Great. So after he hit something, there was another tiny 1% chance that the damage he inflicted would be doubled. Rob figured it was better than zero.