Subclass: N/A
INFAMY: 78 Players killed
HP: 1222/1222
HP recovery rate: 1% per minute
ATK: 199
DEF: 311
Attributes
STRENGTH: 11
WILL: 4
DEXTERITY: 6
MIND: 4
SPEED: 5
“What would be best for you,” I ponder as I scratch him under the chin. He still has a bit of blood on his lips, which isn’t unusual for Wolf. “Everyone needs a well-balanced dog.”
He cocks his head slightly, trying to interpret my joke.
With that, I assign one attribute point to WILL, one to MIND, and one to SPEED – after all, it was his speed that saved my ass less than five minutes ago.
A sound near a branch jutting out from the cliffside catches our attention.
We turn to see a vulture, his black wings slick and his head and neck gunmetal gray. He stares at us with beady red eyes, waiting for us to leave.
If we hadn’t eaten an hour ago, I’d equip my crossbow and take the flying death-grazer out.
I’ve never eaten vulture, but with the right seasoning and cooked the right way, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be too bad. My cooking trade skill is at level two, which is better than the level zero it currently is in the real world, so I’m sure I could make it taste decent enough.
This is another thing I’ve become as a Player Killer – “willing to eat anything” is an understatement; I’m practically a scavenger these days.
I stare down the bird of prey for a moment longer. The vulture flaps his big wings and flies off.
I return my attention to the cart the merchants were pushing – there’d better be something in there worth my trouble. I rummage through the back for a moment and find a bunch of empty crates.
“Dammit. Why the hell were three orc merchants pushing a cart full of nothing?” I kick the wooden wheel and Wolf’s ears twitch. “What do you think, buddy?”
He yawns, sneezes.
“Some help you are,” I say as I check the cart again.
Maybe it was a decoy?
The only thing that makes me think it isn’t a decoy is the fact that two Player Characters were accompanying the cart. PCs know how valuable their in-game lives are – they aren’t going to accompany an empty cart just for the hell of it. No, there’s something I’m missing, some key to the puzzle I haven’t figured out yet.
“Get over here and sniff this cart out,” I tell Wolf. “See if you sense anything.”
The towering, jet-black wolf wags his tail as he approaches me. He sniffs at the cart for a moment, gives it another spin, and stops at the back. Wolf runs the top of his head against the bottom lip of the cart excitedly and nudges it with his head.
I get the hint and knock the cart over.
Scrawled across the bottom of the cart is a map of the Farthing Mountains with an X marking a certain spot on the sea-facing side of the highest peak.
Quest alert!
You have discovered a strange map that marks a mysterious spot in the Farthing Mountains.
Risks: Unknown.
Rewards: Unknown.
Would you like to follow the map?
[Yes or No]
Wolf Ruffian looks up at me with his big, blue-green eyes.
“Ha!” I laugh at the expression on his face as I swipe the quest away. “What? You want to go to the mountains? No. You know we need to get to the mainland in the next two hours. And don’t give me those begging eyes – our assignment tonight will get us a ton of lira. Hell, I might even have enough to take you to the groomer’s, maybe get a rugged collar with spikes too.”
He shakes his head, bats at it with his paw. Sometimes, I get the sense he understands me; other times, not so much.
“Come on, Wolf.”
I’m about ten feet away when I realize someone else is going to find the cart, find the bodies, and possibly alert the authorities in the small city of Karuna on the western side of the Farthing Mountains. With this in mind, I drag the first orc over to the cart and put him in. Then I stack his buddy on top of him and turn the cart towards the side of the cliff.
I give the cart a running push and listen as the two bodies and the cart crash below.
(^_^)
My quest indicator flashes:
You have agreed to capture the governor of Rial Resort Town on the northern coast of Unigaea. Make your way to Karuna and take the ferry to Tin Ingot. From there, rendezvous with the other hired kidnappers at the Tin Ingot City Council building.
Damn.
I was only able to find one sunset root on this trip, which is far from a success. Still, I’ll be able to craft at least one healing potion from what I’ve found, and that’s better than nothing.
“We’ve got to hurry,” I tell Wolf as I look up at the red sky. I don’t need to know the time to know the last ferry from Karuna will leave shortly.
The majestic black canine gets the hint.
He drops his head onto his front paws, allowing me to easily climb on.
Once I’m up, I squeeze my legs around his waist and we take off down the trail that leads away from the high peaks of the Farthing Mountains.
I wish I had time to take the quest I discovered on the underside of the cart. How many quests get away on a daily basis, in this world and the real one?
I smile at the thought. A wise man in Stater once told me that a quest is only as good as the man who takes it.
Bullshit.
And the real world? Screw the real world.
“Easy, Wolf!” I say as the big canine hops from the cliffside pass to a large, flat rock. His tongue wags out the corner of his mouth as he focuses on his goal and just barely makes it onto another pass.
He leaps, I hold on tight, and gravel sprays into the air behind us.
A breeze picks up, carrying with it the smell of the magnolia pines, which are native to these mountains and used for perfume and soap on the mainland. I have enough in my inventory to make a healing salve. It isn’t very effective, but it will prevent an infection from spreading.
I snap out of my reverie when I spot a leaf-covered hole on the pathway ahead.
“Watch it!”
Wolf skids to the side just in time. Some of the leaves give way and I get a glimpse of sharp sticks jutting from the bottom of the hole.
A dwarven trap.
I’ve fallen in one of those holes before and it wasn’t pretty. There are wounds that healing potions can repair, but deep wounds – wounds that puncture organs – require trips to the hospital.
I lean forward and whisper into Wolf’s ear, “Dwarves. Find ‘em.”
He growls and looks left, growls even louder, looks right.
“Less growl, more find.”
He looks up and I follow his gaze.
Three NPC dwarves – two on red war panthers – bristle as we lock eyes with them. The two on the panthers have long black beards, but the one standing is clean shaven, a rookie.
All three have insignias across the front of their chest plates indicating they are part of a Western Split Mountain clan. Why the dwarves crossed the Seluecid Sea to visit the island of Karuna and, more accurately, the humble Farthing Mountains, is beyond me.
The standoff begins. Either they let us pass or …
The red panther carrying the highest-ranking dwarf drops to its haunches, leans back, and jumps down to block our path forward.
Wolf growls, bares his teeth.
[Dwarf Leader, Level 5]
“Let us pass or face the consequences,” I tell the lead dwarf. I unsheathe my Splintered Sword and point it at him. “This is your final warning.”
Chapter Three: Dwarven Porn
The lead dwarf doesn’t heed our warning. He raises a battle-ax in the air, whistles for his two companions to join him, sneers, and charges us.
“I warned you,” I grumble as Wolf and I brace for impact.
This isn’t our first rodeo, nor is i
t the first time we’ve faced a troupe of dwarves. Take out the leader dwarf and the others quickly lose their nerve. Their strength and attack power will be cut by a fourth at the loss of their leader, so it is with great focus that I bring my arm back and …
Our swords clink together and his panther takes a side swipe at Wolf. Our blades connect again; dust and gravel scatters. I overwhelm him on my third try, knocking him straight to the ground.
I hop off to meet him.
Wolf snarls and barks. No time to glance over my shoulder, but my guess is that he and the red panther are currently circling each other, seeing who will attack first.
For a hefty little bastard, the dwarf is fast.
He brings his ax down hard, slicing into the ground. He’s all forearm, no brains, used to swiping his big ax and cutting down anything that stands in his way. I parry his next attack and backpedal to the edge of the cliff. With a quick swipe of my free hand, I release a throwing knife that pegs him across the side of his cheek.
He cries out in pain.
-32 HP!
Damn! A couple inches up and I would have hit my mark.
Above us, his two dwarf henchmen wait to see how their leader performs. They’ll attack – they always do – but not until he’s had his chance to prove his dwarf-liness.
“Wolf!” From my vantage point, I watch the panther swipe its sharp claw at him and connect with his mane.
Wolf throws the proverbial towel down at this point and tackles the panther, ignoring the bloody scratch marks that have begun to appear on his sides. Wolf is four times larger than the panther, and his sheer weight and razor-sharp teeth help him overpower the panther rather quickly.
The panther’s neck snaps and everyone turns at the sickening sound.
“Last chance,” I tell the seething, panther-less dwarf leader. “Turn away now and you’ll keep your life.”
He curls his nostrils at me and spits at my feet.
That settles that.
I take a few running steps towards him, pivot right just in time to avoid his ax, and with my left hand I slice my Splintered Sword through his poor leather armor, giving him a severe wound on his upper arm.
-75 HP!
I spin, my blade connects again, and his head flies away, spritzing the air with blood.
Instakill!
One down.
I hear the panther screech and I glance over my shoulder to find Wolf, blood-soaked and happily mauling the big cat to death.
I look up the cliffside at the other two dwarves. I’m not one to gloat, but the way we just handed their leader his ass should give them reason to run. I flick the dwarf’s ichor off my sword, tense my shoulder.
Shit! My vision pane flashes red.
I stumble forward and swing my sword around my body.
A dwarven magic caster!
The words hit me as a bolt of light blasts me towards the edge of the pass. Wolf pinpoints the invisible magic slinger’s position. His ears press back as he starts to track.
A bolt of light tosses Wolf backwards. He nearly falls into the dwarven pit trap, actually goes over the edge but is able to scramble out at the last moment.
Rage fills me and I start swinging in front of me, hoping to hit anything I can. The two dwarves at the higher vantage point see an opening. The one on the red panther steers his feline beast down a few rocks and the other dwarf cautiously follows.
Two on my left now, one invisible magic caster somewhere on my right.
Come on, come on.
As the two on the left close in, I put my arm across my chest and let loose my last three throwing knives in the direction of the magic caster. Two miss; one connects.
-58 HP!
Gotcha!
His form wavers and Wolf sees his opening. The dwarven mage screams as my pony-sized canine mows him down and starts mauling him to death.
I turn to the other two and offer them my most sincere shit-eating grin. The one on the red panther pulls his reins back and the big cat scurries back up the cliffside.
The other dwarf, about four feet tall with the sides of his head shaved and a mullet that would make a trailer park mama beam with pride, smacks his mallet against his shield and shouts something sharp and guttural.
“I’ve really got places to go,” I say as I approach, sword drawn.
Mullet Dwarf is level three and absolutely no match for me. He swings his hammer with both hands; I pivot and bring my sword up to meet him. I drop my swipe just in time and take his right arm off just above the elbow.
-199 HP! Critical hit!
Real world physics need not apply.
His arm flips into the air, and for a very brief moment we both watch it flip and flip some more; then, suddenly, Wolf leaps into the air and snags it.
The dwarf shrieks, I almost laugh, Wolf begins gnawing at the bone, and I take this brief moment in our shared existence to finish the job.
Instakill!
Aside from the appendage misfire, the dwarf’s death is sudden and relatively painless.
“Any loot?” I ask Wolf. “We need to hurry. That other dwarf will bring reinforcements.”
I eye the dead red panther for a moment. In a different scenario I’d take its hide and claws, both of which are valuable.
I weigh the idea. Maybe I could just take its whole body …
Wolf takes a small pouch from the downed mage’s belt. Meanwhile, I find 250 lira and a healing potion on the dwarf with the hammer. His hammer is worthless to me, but his leader’s ax could come in handy. I decide to check it out.
Weapon: Dwarven Ax
Grade: D
Weight: heavy
Attack: -15
Speed: -8
Definitely will lower my attack as compared to my Splintered Sword and mess with my SPEED …
I pick up the ax and admire the inlay on the lug. It’s gold, which means it could be worth something. If I ever need to bust down a locked door, a Dwarven Ax may come in handy.
Into my inventory list it goes, where I can check it out later. I’ll either sell it, melt it down for parts, or keep it for certain scenarios.
I quickly collect my throwing knives, wipe them on the unsoiled part of the leader dwarf’s pant leg, and return them to their sheaths across my chest.
“You ready?” I ask Wolf, who now has a small satchel in his mouth.
He approaches me and I take one more look at the red panther. It’s a damn shame I’m going to have to leave such a fine beast behind.
“What did you find?”
He drops the satchel in my hand and I rummage through it to find 350 lira and a folded piece of parchment. I unfold the parchment to find a crude sketch of a naked female dwarf squeezing her mammaries and blowing a kiss.
Dwarven porn?
I chuckle and add it to my list. You never know what you’ll find when you check someone for loot.
Hell, that’s half the fun of it.
(^_^)
“Slow down a second,” I tell Wolf as we come to a fork in the road. Realizing it’d be better to heal up now than later, I equip the healing potion I picked off the dwarf and chug it back.
+129 HP!
I feel my strength return as the nicks and bruises I’ve received heal up. I wish there were healing potions in real life, I think as I unceremoniously toss the bottle over my shoulder.
I bring up my dashboard and a 360-degree view of my avatar appears. My armor is suddenly translucent; blurred green spots let me know where I’ve recently been healed.
I give my avatar a twirl.
I had a say in my appearance – a muscular warrior with long, dark-brown hair and ice-blue eyes. I haven’t had a say in the amount of scars that now cover my body. Like the stars in the sky on a moonless night, they each have a story, and regardless of the healing potions I consume or the hospitals I visit, the scars remain.
A stone sundial in the upper right-hand corner of my interface tells me it’s almost 6:30 PM, 78 degrees, and cloud free unti
l morning. It may rain tomorrow.
“We’re good.” I lightly grab hold of Wolf’s mane and lean forward.
The big dog takes off, panting as his large legs propel us further. I can feel his muscles moving, his lungs filling with air and exhaling forcibly. As we travel, I notice my arms are covered in his coarse, black hairs. He’s been shedding as of late, and could really use a trip to the groomer.
Twenty minutes or so later, I can see the haze of the town in the distance.
Set near the bottom of an escarpment practically pressed up to the sea, Karuna is a quaint seaside town. I have owned a home here before, in a different incarnation of my avatar in which I went the noble route. WeWrite History, a program used in most Proxima worlds, fleshed out my backstory before I could even start spending the million lira I had in my bank account.
Just like the world up there – the real world – Unigaea has more stories, scenarios, and experiences than one can imagine. Unlike the real world, one can live any number of experiences here, regardless of any social class, country, or religious underpinnings that may restrict them up there.
Gaming is the new liberty.
I reflect on this for a moment as Wolf and I approach the watchtowers that protect Karuna. Merchants have rented tables in front of the watchtowers, filling them with everything from relics to magnolia pine cones, which are famous for their sweet seeds.
I really shouldn’t have tossed that anklet away, I think as I see a seller with a ton of jewelry. Attached to the front of her tablecloth is a makeshift sign. The woman’s hair is tied back in a bandana and her face has been harshly tanned by the sun. A line of wrinkles above her brow makes the NPC look like she’s scowling and her dress, a typical Karunian blouse, proudly announces she is married through its colorfully striped pattern.
“Tiffany’s, huh?” I ask as Wolf slows to a halt.
She nods. “That’s what I like to call my store.”
The surrounding merchants turn their noses up at Wolf and me. I glance down to see that there is blood dried to the front of my armor.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell them. “We were just hunting.”
“Hunting what?” an old-timer in a leather dashiki asks. He takes a few steps closer to me and crosses his arms over his chest. “I know what you are, Player Killer.”
The Last Warrior of Unigaea: A LitRPG Trilogy Page 2
