World War VR

by Michael Ryan

  “If you start finishing my–”

  “Sentences?”

  “Yeah,” Smith said, “I might go back to–”

  “Sorry,” Dale said. “Did you see the tongue on that–”

  “Goddammit, pick a mount!”

  Dale looked into the stable. There were six warhorses: two all black, two all white, a chestnut, and one that was dark green and looked as if it was half-buffalo and half-wildebeest.

  Dale picked the hybrid.

  He loved strange creatures.

  The mount presented itself equipped with an all-black leather saddle covered in silver runes. When he climbed into the saddle, the beast reared, snorted, and stomped.

  Smith picked an all-black warhorse. “A brother’s got to represent,” he said as the beast shook its mane.

  The pair followed Dyfrig to the entrance of the dungeon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Shall we have more death?

  ~ Algrothist

  “Okay, boys,” Dyfrig said when they reached the staging area outside the dungeon.

  Giant bronze doors, at least twenty meters tall, stood in front of them like ominous signs of impending doom.

  “This instance is a standard dungeon raid, but it’s calibrated for three soldiers, meaning it’s going to be harder for you to clear. Which, of course, is the point of this exercise. If you survive, you’re in. If not, well, you’re out, and you’ll respawn, go back to your old assignments, and everyone will call it a day. Any questions?”

  “Gear?”

  “Your equipment will be the same as in the ogre trial – good job on that, by the way. The only extra difficulty here is that the mobs will come at you as if you were a raiding party of three instead of two. It’s not going to be easy, but I have faith.”

  “Sergeant Dyfrig, can I ask a question?” Smith said.

  “Fire away.”

  “Your race?”

  “You guys haven’t gone through race, guild, and class introduction yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “I told him to study,” Dale said. “He was too into–”

  “Hey!” Smith interrupted. “I don’t talk about your obsession with–”

  “I’m a Ningishzida. Your species call us lizard-people or reptile-men. Our actual race – I mean – what I am at home…well, humans don’t have an actual translation of that word. It’s something you can’t pronounce.”

  “I’m confused again,” Dale said.

  “Worry about the dungeon, Dale,” the sergeant said. “If you pass, I’ll explain what I know. We ship out in less than two weeks.”

  “What happens in two weeks?” Smith asked.

  “The official start of the Nagant Wars, of course,” Dyfrig answered.

  “What?” Dale asked.

  “Hey, girls!” someone familiar shouted. “Look who’s here!”

  Tom, Galina, Kim, and Sanjay rode up on warhorse mounts. “You two testing for Unit Nineteen?” Tom asked.

  “How’d you know?” Smith asked.

  “We didn’t get invited here for a barbecue,” Tom replied. “We’ve got a run, too. Who wants to bet?”

  “Hi, Kim,” Dale said.

  “You’re getting too bold, Corporal-boy,” the Russian said. “She’s with me.”

  “Hi, Dale,” Kim said. “I’m testing with Tom.”

  Dale looked at Sanjay.

  “Yes,” Galina said. “I asked him to partner with me. He’s the only gentleman here.”

  “Gentleman in Russia is only hibernating bear,” Tom said.

  “Alrighty, then…” Dyfrig punched a code into a wall-mounted keypad. The large double doors to the dungeon opened.

  “Good luck, boys,” Tom said. “We’ll be seeing you.”

  Dale and Smith entered a long dark tunnel.

  The doors shut behind them.

  The walls were moss-covered stone adorned with demonic symbols.

  They walked to the end of the passageway, entered a round stone-floored elevator, and rose up a long shaft. “This is so World of Warcraft,” Dale said.

  “Never played,” Smith said.

  “What the hell?”

  “I never got into the old-school stuff,” Smith said. “I started out with Vicious Gods of Destruction and Pain.”

  “I loved–”

  Dale was interrupted by screaming.

  They passed iron-barred cages holding tortured beasts: elves, dwarfs, emaciated orcs, gnomes, sprites, brownies, and bizarre creatures that Dale didn’t recognize. The imprisoned beings screeched, wailed, and begged, mostly for water and food, but a big-busted witch asked them if they’d like a prison reach-around through the bars.

  “No,” Smith said. “But thanks for asking.”

  “Go back,” another creature screeched. “There is no hope!”

  Dale shuddered.

  The elevator stopped above ground in an ancient gladiator coliseum. The stands were filled with rowdy spectators from every fantasy race Dale could recall. A creature shouted from a podium, “We have new victims! Place your blood wagers!”

  The monster was reddish brown, as tall as two men. It had massive muscles, spiked armbands, a breastplate with a dragon’s skeleton etched into a tarnished bronze face, and two sharp horns on its head. “I am Algrothist, Dragon Slayer, Slaughterer of the Wood Meadow Clan, and Keeper of Demon Legions. I will enjoy and profit from your deaths!”

  Then, with a horrific scream, the gates below him opened.

  Six beasts entered the coliseum and the gate shut behind them.

  Ërin: Dale, avoid the gated pit to the south. It contains a flesh-eating demon with octopus arms.

  Dale: You can help me here?

  Only with things that are common knowledge. I’ll speak up if there’s something I can assist you with; otherwise, concentrate. You can do this.

  Yeah, thanks.

  The beasts were similar in size to the wolf-hyena creatures from the Mount Dog mission. They appeared to be an evil combination of a razorback hog and armadillo. They had long tails with a knobby ball on the end of it. Sharp, curved tusks protruded from their lower jaws, and pointy fangs stuck down from their snouts.

  They screamed with a bloodcurdling screech, and all their teeth showed in a prophetic depiction of agonizing death.

  “Ten to one against,” Algrothist declared. His voice changed to a chilling hiss. “Place your wagers now! Betting closes in one minute.”

  Precisely sixty seconds later a bell sounded, and the first three beasts charged them.

  Dale dashed to the right, and Smith slid to the left.

  Dale ran straight at his target, jumped into the air, spun, and brought his sword down onto the beast’s back, splitting it open. Blood sprayed everywhere.

  He dropped back into a defensive posture while Smith stabbed one of the others. The third beast turned, moved towards Dale, but then stopped at the corpse of the creature Dale had killed.

  Ërin: Those are cannibalistic razordillos. Very nasty things that eat their dead and grow in strength. That’s why your first kill was so easy. It was sacrificing itself to help the others grow.

  The razordillo ate the body of its fallen ally and then shook its head and sprayed blood and gore as it grew in size and power. It lifted its eyes to Dale and charged.

  Dale jumped out of its path and sprinted toward Smith.

  “These things eat their dead,” he said.

  “I saw,” Smith replied. “We have to chop the dead ones into seventy-seven pieces to render them worthless to the living mobs.”

  “Who thought up this disgusting shit?”

  He lashed out with his sword at the returning razordillo. The beasts were fast, but they couldn’t turn and change course quickly. If successfully dodged, their momentum carried them beyond their intended target.

  They worked together to hack the dead beast that Smith had killed into little pieces. A ghostly HP bar appeared above the corpse, and it finally hit zero.

  +300XP

>   Razordillo killed!

  They turned to face the third creature. As it charged, its three companions, which had been waiting in the wings, also moved toward them.

  “Crap,” Dale said. “There’s four attacking. I’ll tag the two I’m going to concentrate on killing.”

  He placed a Jolly Roger symbol on two of the animals, taking the double-sized one for himself.

  Smith picked up something long and sharp from the sand. “They drop a razor-rib sword, a onetime –”

  “Gotcha. Look out,” Dale snapped.

  He ran toward the wall of the coliseum. When he reached the edge of the arena, he used the sharp spike protrusions that extended from the wall as footholds to climb. As he ascended, the beast chasing him ran into the wall. Dale jumped, twisting his body in the air, and landed behind it. He struck it with a swift blow to its rear.

  Dale next ran to Smith and helped him attack a lone mob. They both landed violent blows, which sent it to the ground. Before they could finish off its ghost, the other razordillos joined forces and charged them. Dale and Smith were forced to scatter, which allowed the living beasts to eat the fresh kill and grow in strength.

  “This is crazy,” Dale said.

  There were still three enemies, but two of them had doubled in size.

  “We need to isolate the smaller one,” Smith said, “and we need to destroy its body before the other fuckers gain even more strength.”

  “I’ll try to draw the two bigger ones away,” Dale said. He rushed them with a flurry of running legs and stabbing blades and managed to poke one in the face with his sword.

  Then he ran.

  The creature chased him toward the demon pit.

  Dale juked like a sports star evading a tackle. The razordillo tried to stop before it hit the iron bars over the demon pit.

  It failed.

  The creature’s death screams filled the stadium with an ear-piercing shriek as the pit demon consumed it.

  “Only two left!” Dale shouted.

  The rest of the fight was less complicated, and they were able to finish off the remaining two razordillos without much difficulty. Dale chopped one to bits while Smith hacked up the other.

  Dale retrieved the razor-rib sword that had dropped when he killed the mob and placed it in his inventory.

  Algrothist laughed so hard the ground shook. “Well done, you filthy scum!” he shouted. Then he turned to the crowd. “Pay and settle your bets; then make new ones! The next round starts in five minutes, you disgusting and degenerate gamblers!”

  A fat blue humanoid with a turban flew down from the stands on a magic carpet. He stopped in front of Dale and Smith. “Would you like to place bets, gentlemen?” the creature asked. He smiled and laughed deeply. “The next round is twenty-to-one against you.”

  Dale: Ërin?

  Ërin: Yes, Dale, you can bet gold and win a bunch of money. Of course, you can lose, too.

  Can you tell me what you think of the odds being offered?

  It seems you’re a bit underpriced. I’d put your chances at one in fifteen.

  Crap.

  It’s not so bad; you’ve been doing well.

  How’s the betting work?

  Tell the Sihir what you want to bet, it’s that simple.

  Sihir?

  It’s a genie-like race. If you capture one, it’ll give you a wish, but so far, there have been no reports of one being caught.

  Dale checked his inventory and said, “I’ll bet one hundred gold bars.”

  System Message: You have placed a wager with [Aldarstain] [Three-bet Raiders] of the [Plutus Guild].

  Terms: You have bet 100 gold bars on you and Private Smith clearing the next round at 20 to 1 odds.

  The wager was auto-accepted on your voice command, for transaction details see [here].

  Algrothist shouted with a similar sound as the razordillos made when they died. “Prepare for battle! Prepare to bleed! Prepare to die! Five, four, three, two, one!”

  The arena gate opened.

  A group of battle-mount ostriches entered the coliseum. There were four of them, and each was mounted by a creature that looked like a demonic goblinoid fairy combined with a hideous elf.

  Dale: Ërin?

  Ërin: The ostriches are tanking battle pets. In close quarters they can directly attack, but their primary role is taking damage and distracting you. The creatures riding them are called Hiisi. I don’t have access to their specs. You’re going to have to study this stuff!

  Thanks. Any information I can actually use here?

  There’s a gate behind you that is opening; I’d suggest taking into account the monstrous rhino that’s about to be unleashed in the arena, undoubtedly with plans to squash you.

  Dale turned around, and sure enough, a rhino was storming out of the gate directly at Smith.

  “Smith!” Dale shouted. “Behind you! Distract the rhino. I’ll head off the hi– the demon-goblin thingies.”

  Hiisi.

  Got it.

  Dale ran at the first ostrich mount, holding his shield and sword. At the last moment, he slid like a baseball player stealing second and hacked off the bird’s legs. It screamed, threw its rider, and rolled into a ball that ended up right in front of the charging rhino, which squashed it into a pancake of feathers and blood.

  The other three mounts overshot Dale.

  They scattered to avoid the rampaging rhino. Smith ran behind it, and Dale wondered what his partner was doing chasing after the monster instead of being chased.

  The dismounted Hiisi charged Dale with an outstretched sword, and he fought against the mob with reckless abandon until it fell. Not wanting to take the chance that Hiisi could respawn on the field or resurrect as zombies or ghosts, he picked up the corpse and threw it into the demon pit.

  An outstretched tentacle grabbed the creature and pulled it through the bars.

  Dale looked for the next opponent.

  Another creature was racing toward him, so he took a defensive stance against the lone attacker. The Hiisi had split up; the other two chased Smith, who was still pursuing the rhino.

  “What the hell?” Dale said.

  Dale lifted his sword and braced his body for the charge.

  Aiming for center mass, he swung.

  The Hiisi dodged the brunt of his attack, stabbed Dale, and fell from its mount. It was injured, but not mortally.

  “Aww! My f-ing damn! God!” Dale cried in agony.

  He dropped to a knee.

  His left shoulder burned as if a red-hot fire poker had gouged it, and the Hiisi weapon was still protruding from his body. He grabbed the end of the spear-like goblin sword and threw it to the ground. His shoulder bled, but even in excruciating pain he had the presence of mind to look up and see the battle pet about to strike. He turned his body, and the incoming beak struck his shield. He spun and brought his sword down on the ostrich – a dead center hit – but still, the mount was not dead even though it had received significant damage.

  Instantly its HP returned to one hundred percent.

  An enemy’s healing spell had been cast on it.

  “Dammit,” Dale sputtered. “This keeps getting better and better.”

  He turned around and realized that the Hiisi he’d knocked from the saddle was still casting healing at its mount in spite of its injuries. Dale rushed the creature, pulled out the razor-rib sword, and managed to chop the Hiisi in half. It dropped loot.

  A tempting stack of gold bars.

  He thought about picking them up for a fraction of a second, but Dale remembered the disastrous consequences of grabbing for loot in the middle of a battle.

  The ostrich mount-turned-attacking-battle-pet was about to strike.

  With his left hand, Dale swung the razor-rib sword and vaporized the flightless bird. The sword crumbled to dust.

  The demons, dwarfs, elves, witches, and other strange creatures in the stands cheered, jeered, and yelled obscenities.

  Empty mugs flew onto th
e sand.

  Cheers continued for Dale and Smith as it appeared they might win. Apparently there were more than a few who had taken the long-shot wager on them doing so.

  Dale felt a renewed sense of courage and hope; Demons were usually competent gamblers.

  He retrieved a healing potion from this inventory and restored his HP. With his health at one hundred percent and the pain gone from his shoulder, he looked for Smith.

  His friend was riding the rhino.

  He climbed a set of spikes in the coliseum wall. “Smith!”

  “Dale, hold there. I’ll pick you up!” Smith yelled back.

  He’d somehow figured out how to control the direction of the galloping beast. It came charging along the wall, breaking off the deadly spikes as it went.

  Bricks and rocks broke away as it tore out the defensive protrusions, creating dust and chaos and inciting the crowd to throw mugs and bottles at the beast’s head.

  Dale jumped on its back behind Smith.

  “I had a onetime charm for controlling any mount,” Smith said. “Something I earned in a Nojus guild quest.”

  “Dude, why didn’t you–”

  “No time to explain. Look out!”

  The ostriches were closing in on their position.

  The mounted Hiisi split apart, one coming up each side of the rhino.

  They held their swords high, ready to strike.

  Dale retrieved his throwing knives.

  He aimed and threw.

  The ostrich jumped and the knife went wide.

  “Can you steer this thing and charge them?” Dale asked.

  “I can try,” Smith answered. “But those damn ostriches are fast.” He directed the rhino to turn toward the center of the arena.

  Dale battled with one of the Hiisi while Smith fought off the second one in a spectacular mounted sword fight that drew cheers from the gamblers.

  “We need to think of something before they wear us out.”

  “I’m trying!” Smith answered.

  “Transfer your razor-rib sword to me,” Dale said.

  Smith did, and Dale, now with one sword in each hand, leapt off the rhino’s back.

  The Hiisi, which hadn’t anticipated a flying, double-sword attack, tried to defend itself, but it was too late. The razor-rib sword delivered a one-hit kill, and Dale found himself mounted on the dead enemy’s ostrich. Riding towards the last Hiisi in the arena, he quickly pinned it between Smith and himself, and they dispatched it with ease.