by A. J. Markam
“Stop making fun of Russell for his size,” Jennifer said with a smirk in her voice.
The goblin pointed angrily at her. “It’s not that small!”
“That’s what she said,” the orc snorted as he stifled a guffaw.
The goblin pointed at the orc. “Don’t make me take out my hammer!”
“That’s what he said,” Richard the troll piped up.
“Stop it or I’m pulling out!” the goblin raged.
“That’s what they all say,” Jen said, and the entire group broke into laughter, me included.
“PUT ME DOWN, or the next time we’re in a dungeon, I’m going to let the mobs effin’ devour you!” the goblin shrieked.
“Said no one, ever,” the troll said.
“Put him down, Seth,” Jen said. “We’ve got to divvy up the loot – everybody toss your money in.”
Slothfart put the goblin down on the ground, and everyone – including me – threw their coins in a pile, along with the various things we’d taken from the dead bandits.
“Okay, Jimmy here gets leather,” Jen said, “Richard’s already got a ring with intelligence stats, I’ll take that wand if no one else wants it – ”
“It’s yours,” Richard said.
“Okay. That necklace has +10 strength – that’s you two guys,” Jen said, pointing at Slothfart and Russell.
“1, 2, 3, go,” the goblin said, striking his hand in his palm with every word. The orc did the same.
The goblin threw paper, Slothfart threw a rock.
“Dammit!” the orc grumbled.
“Ha ha! Serves you right, you sodding git,” the goblin said as he picked up the necklace.
“Okay, we good?” Jennifer asked.
“What about the money?” I asked.
“Watch this!” Richard said. For the first time since I’d met him, his voice betrayed the barest hint of excitement.
Suddenly all the coins disappeared in a tiny dust devil, and I heard the jingling of coins as the bag at my side vibrated.
I opened the bag’s window. Sure enough, my coin counter had increased by about six silver and change.
“What just happened?”
“Richard’s a programmer, so he was very happy to create an add-on program that divvies up the money automatically,” Jen explained.
“Amongst everyone in the group,” Richard said with a smile.
“Alright, what should we do now?” the orc said.
Jen tried to answer, but the goblin interrupted her. “We should start our own guild.”
“Not this again,” the elf groaned.
“We’ve got enough for a dungeon party now!”
“Later. Let’s go pick up the next quest and – ”
“Ooh, ooh!” the orc said excitedly. “If we start a guild we should totally name it – ”
“We are not naming it anything marijuana related,” Jennifer snapped. “I was generous enough with the name of the group. That’s it. That’s where I draw the line.”
“But – ”
“Nothing with ‘420’ in the name, nothing with ‘chronic’ in the name, nothing with ‘weed’ in the name, nothing with ‘green’ in the name – ”
“I don’t know,” I joked, “there’s a lot of green people in the group.”
I was suddenly met with icy silence as all the guys stared at me.
I looked around self-consciously. “What?”
“Dude,” the orc said.
“Dude,” the goblin said.
“Seriously, dude,” the troll said.
“…what?”
“Don’t be racist,” the orc said.
I was shocked.
“I wasn’t being racist!” I exclaimed. “I was just saying you’re all green – ”
“Judging us by our skin color, were ya?” the goblin asked.
The troll shook his head sadly. “Is that all you see? Just our skin color?”
“What, are you going to start calling us ‘greeners’?” the orc said. “Greenbacks? Greenos?”
“No!” I said in a panic. I was afraid everything was crashing down around me again. “No, I didn’t mean – ”
“They’re screwing with you,” Jennifer said.
I looked at her in shock.
“…w-what?”
All three guys broke out into gales of laughter.
“Oh my god – you shoulda seen the look on your face, dude!” Slothfart howled.
“That was hilarious!” the goblin hooted as he slapped his knee, his gauntlet clanking against the armor on his leg.
“Got you,” the troll said with a smile, not quite laughing, but far more amused than he’d ever let on before.
“Quit torturing the new guy and let’s go get a new quest,” Jen said as she led the way back to the farmhouse.
22
When we got to the farmhouse, Gorkus the goblin farmer came out and gave a little speech. Then he handed out the experience points, goblin rings, and pants. I slipped on the ring, which gave me a nice boost of +8 agility. While I was checking out my Stats window, I realized my overall stats were higher – and then I remembered that I’d leveled up during the fight.
“Did you guys level up?” I asked.
“No.”
“But… I leveled up back there – why didn’t you?”
“We’re all Level 12,” the troll explained. “The higher you get, the more points it takes to reach the next level. So this wasn’t enough to do it for us this time.”
“Oh.”
Suddenly a golden ‘!’ appeared over the goblin farmer’s head, and he started talking again. “If you’re looking for more adventuring, there’s someone you should talk to – a dark elf named Vandriel. He’s been working here on the farm doing odd jobs, but he might have something you might be interested in. He’s over in the barn.”
A window popped up in front of me listing the quest details. Basically, ‘Go talk to Vandriel the dark elf in the barn.’ The rewards were pretty meager – just 20 experience points, though that wasn’t too bad for walking fifty feet, I suppose.
Jennifer said “Yes” out loud, and the window immediately disappeared.
“I told you!” the orc said. “Chain quest!”
“Like it was a big prediction or something,” Jennifer said as she led the way to the barn, her silky robes trailing behind her in the wheat.
“What’s a chain quest?” I asked.
“It’s where one quest leads to another quest, which leads to another quest, all of them joined by a common thread or theme,” Richard the troll explained. “Like links in a chain.”
“If we did a guild, we could call ourselves the Chain Gang!” the goblin suggested.
“Seth won’t approve, since the name doesn’t have anything about pot in it,” Jennifer said.
“How ‘bout ‘In-chain in the Membrane’?” Slothfart asked.
“In-chain in the Brain!” the goblin shouted.
“And no puns on song lyrics about pot, either,” Jen said.
“Aw, man…” the orc complained.
Inside the barn sat an elf with a golden ‘?’ over his head. He looked distinctly different from the other elves I had seen so far. He had the same pointy ears and glowing yellow eyes, but his skin was a deep indigo blue.
The dark elf looked up from his work sharpening a sickle with a whetstone. “You are the adventurers who killed the bandits?”
“We are,” Jennifer said.
As ‘20 XP’ floated up through the air, the dark elf nodded, and a yellow ‘!’ appeared over his head.
“The land has been overtaken by lawlessness ever since the changes at Borellian Manor. Something dreadful happened to the family that lives there. My own brother disappeared just a few days ago while hunting in the woods around the manor. I am not a warrior, and I am afraid to go there myself – but perhaps you could do something. Perhaps you could find out what happened to Hadros.”
A new window appeared with the message, Investigate Bo
rellian Manor and Find the Dark Elf Hadros.
Holy crap – there wasn’t any money involved, but the quest was worth 700 experience points!
“We’ll do it,” Jennifer said.
“May the Great Elf bless you, and may the Goddess keep you safe,” the dark elf said.
As we walked out of the barn, I asked, “How many different types of elves are there?”
Jennifer started ticking them off on her fingers. “Well, I’m a frost elf… there are forest elves, night elves, blood elves, fire elves, dark elves, cave elves – ”
“A veritable a rainbow of diversity,” the troll said.
“You just made all elves sound gay, dude,” the orc snorted.
The goblin leered as he looked up at Jen. “That true, luv? You like the ladies?”
“No, although if I had to choose between them and you, I’d definitely choose them,” the elf said.
“I’d pay to watch!” the goblin snickered.
“Watch this,” she snapped, and shot an ice ray after him as he took off through the wheat.
23
According to the map, it was quite a ways to our next destination – so as we walked, I inspected the new skill I’d gotten when I leveled up.
It was a shoe with little wings on it. I hovered my finger over the picture and it said, ‘Fleet Foot.’
“What the hell is this?” I asked, speaking out loud without realizing it.
“What?” Jennifer asked.
I felt a little abashed when I realized I’d been talking to myself. “Oh, it’s just my new talent. It’s shoes with little wings on them – like that flower delivery guy.”
The orc looked over at me. “Flower delivery guy? Have you been smoking some of my stash?”
“No,” Jennifer defended me, “I know what he’s talking about. Some florist uses Mercury as their symbol.”
“The planet?” the orc asked, confused.
“Close,” the troll said. “The Roman god Mercury, after which the planet’s named. He had shoes called talaria, which had wings and allowed him to fly.”
“How the hell’d you know that?” the orc asked.
“Too many Latin classes,” the troll said, then turned to me. “Your new skill probably has something to do with running fast for a limited period of time.”
“Oh,” I said, then frowned. “Why would I get that?”
“Because you stab people in the back and run away really fast!” Russell the goblin explained cheerily. “Turn them into Swiss cheese and leave!”
“I want to pick locks, not kill people.”
“A pacifist Rogue,” the troll said like, How quaint.
“Only one way to find out for sure,” Jennifer said. “Try it out.”
I shrugged, pressed the button – and suddenly it was like I’d been hit with five shots of espresso all at once. Energy jolted through my legs, and I took off running as fast as I could.
“Holy crap, look at him go!” the orc shouted.
“He’s like the Usain Bolt of dead people,” the troll said.
“Hey,” Jennifer yelled, “don’t get too far out there – turn around and come back!”
By that point, I was probably half a football field away. The image of the Fleet Foot icon was quickly disappearing – like there was a clock hand going around the circle and wiping out the image.
I followed her advice, circled around, and got back to the group just as the picture disappeared completely. Suddenly I went from running like a track star to running like regular old me.
“That was pretty awesome!” I beamed.
“Yeah, that could come in handy,” Jennifer agreed.
“Do you guys have something like that?”
“Not that exact thing, no. We have abilities that are matched more closely to our races and classes.”
“Like what?”
Jennifer smirked at the others in the group. “Anybody want to do PVP?”
“NO!” the orc and troll yelled at the same time.
“PVP?” I asked.
“Player versus player,” the elf explained. “A duel, basically.”
“I will, I will!” the goblin volunteered happily.
“All right, but this is just a demonstration,” she said, pointing at the goblin. “I don’t want you smacking me in the head with your hammer.”
“That’s what she said,” the orc said quietly, then snickered.
“Come on, let me whip it out,” the goblin grinned suggestively.
“You whip anything out and I’ll freeze it and snap it off.”
“Ooooooh,” all the guys said at once, wincing in pain.
“I just meant for science!” the goblin protested. “For the edu-mication of our poor, ignorant Jimmy!”
She considered for a second, then relented. “Fine. Just so he can see what our capabilities are. And as long as you never, ever utter the words ‘whip it out’ again around me.”
“All right, luv – from now on I’ll just say ‘take out the ol’ anaconda’!”
“I think you mean ‘short, stubby lizard,’” she deadpanned.
“Or python,” the goblin said.
“Or horny toad,” the orc suggested.
“Or giant Komodo dragon!” the goblin grinned.
“Or penis,” the troll said.
Everyone looked at him.
“I grew tired of the euphemisms,” the troll explained.
“Whatever – let’s get on with it!” the goblin yelled gleefully.
Russell ran gleefully about 50 feet away. I noticed the orc and the troll both began to edge far away.
“You might want to scoot over there with Seth and Richard,” Jen suggested.
I didn’t just scoot, I ran. Not as fast as with Fleet Foot, but pretty fast.
“Yes!” the goblin yelled from 100 feet away.
“Why is he yelling?” I asked.
“He had to accept the duel,” the troll explained. “Plus he likes to yell.”
“‘Accept the duel’?”
“She sent him a challenge via the in-game dueling system.”
“So other players can’t kill you unless you agree to a duel?” I asked.
“Usually, no – although there are places where it’s open season and every man for himself, territories filled with roving bands of sadistic miscreants who delight in nothing more than ganking other players.”
“Ganking?”
“Killing lower-level players for fun, usually in an underhanded manner.”
“Oh,” I said, and frowned.
“Don’t worry about it, dude,” the orc said. “We’re nowhere near one now.”
“All right,” Jennifer said, “so as a DPS – ”
“A what?”
“Damage Per Second. It’s slang – also known as a Damage Dealer.”
“Jen’s definitely a double-D,” the orc giggled.
Jennifer narrowed her eyes and glared at Slothfart. “As a DAMAGE DEALER, I have several basic attacks. One is Ray of Frost.”
She pulled out her staff and shot a bluish-white bolt of energy across the field. When it hit Russell, there was the sound of cracking ice, and he flipped over onto his back.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” he yelled from beneath the wheat stalks.
“Richard, would you heal him?” Jennifer asked.
“Of course,” the troll said, and moved his hands through the air. Purple energy formed around his fingers and swirled out into the wheat.
“Ahhhhh… thanks, Richie!” the goblin’s disembodied voice called out from the wheat. Seconds later he popped back up on his feet.
“Next is an AoE attack called Blizzard,” the elf said.
“Ay oh eee?”
“Area of Effect. I can basically take out a large group at once.”
Suddenly, giant spikes of ice materialized from out of nowhere a hundred feet in the air and rained down like glittering stalactites.
“That doesn’t look like a blizzard – that looks like a missile s
trike,” I said in horror, and winced as the goblin got pile-drived back into the ground.
“I know, right?” the orc chortled. “There’s a reason me and Richard didn’t want to do this.”
“Why did Russell do it, then?”
“Because he’s in-chain in the membrane.”
“In-chain in the brain!” the goblin yelled from the wheat, though we still couldn’t see him.
Jennifer went through a list of other abilities one by one. There were smaller darts of ice that looked like icicles she could launch from right next to her. There was a glowing bubble she could cast around her to limit damage. She could raise a wall of ice up as a defensive barrier. She could also trap someone in a mound of ice that grew up from the ground to encase their legs.
There were a couple of other abilities, but those were the main ones.
After each attack, Richard had to heal the goblin out in the field.
“All right,” Russell yelled, “my turn!”
“Oh God…” Jennifer muttered, then yelled, “All right, just let me throw up my shield fir– ”
She hadn’t even gotten the words out when a circular blur shot through the air and slammed into her, knocking her onto her back.
CLANG!
The blur flew back to the goblin.
“You ASSHOLE!” she yelled from the ground. “I said wait till I put up my shield!”
“Oops – sorry, thought you said throw my shield!”
“Richard?”
“On it,” the troll said, and purple energy shot from his hands over to the elf. She groaned and stood up as the purple energy infused her body.
“So, Russell is our tank, and he – ”
“What?” I asked, confused. “He doesn’t look like a tank.”
“I resent that!” the goblin yelled cheerfully. “Just because I’m short – ”
“I think Jimmy’s talking about a military vehicle,” Richard called out.
“Oh! Carry on then!”
“The ‘tank’ is a role in a group,” Jennifer explained. “Because he’s heavily armored like a tank, Russell takes the aggro from – ”
“Aggro?”
“Aggression. He attacks enemies and gets them to focus their attention on him, while I do damage from afar.”
“I want to throw my hammer!” the goblin yelled.
