The Hobgoblin Riot: Dominion of Blades Book 2: A LitRPG Adventure

by Matt Dinniman

  An elderly, auric priest wearing a robe with a blue fringe greeted us at the door. The blue indicated he was a priest of Chase, the god of understanding and knowledge.

  “Your majesty,” the priest said, bowing his head. “We’ve been expecting you. I understand you need a certain magical salve?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice as formal as possible. I handed the priest the bag of abbot fruit. “And we need it right away. The city is in grave danger, and every delay is putting more people at risk.”

  The priest nodded. “We have already discussed your need, and we have decided to help you with this great task. But our help does not come without a request.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Popper said. “All we need you to do is squash some of these fruits and turn them into a lotion. It’ll take you two minutes.”

  The auric raised a thin eyebrow at Popper. “An abbot fruit salve is a very difficult thing to mix properly. It is only used for one thing as far as we are aware, and as such, not many in the world know how to do it. In exchange for this challenging, arcane service we have but a simple, humble request of our king and our kingdom, as citizens of your great domain.”

  I needed a delicate answer, and I had to choose my words carefully. I opened my mouth to speak.

  “We just need to slather it on a troll’s nipples,” Popper said, cutting me off. “No need to get all mystical on us. Whip us up a bucket of this shit, and make it snappy. And none of this bribery bullshit, either. We know you want your temples turned back. We’re on it. But don’t pretend like this troll business is none of your concern. That crevice is barely a mile from here, and you know what those chasm troll larvae can do. You light clerics are just as crunchy on the inside as the rest of us.”

  Ten minutes later, we had a round container filled with a blue lotion. I was dubious that the small container would be enough, but the moment the cleric handed me the jar, the quest updated.

  Now that you’ve obtained the salve, proceed to the chasm troll lair and minister to the queen mother.

  Gretchen grumbled about Popper being too quick with his mouth. But it had worked, and that’s all that mattered. One of these days his mouth was going to get us into trouble, but he’d said the right thing this time.

  One thing did concern me as the auric cleric handed us the container.

  “I do not know why you require these for the troll menace, but I wish you luck. The numinous are not so easily healed or contained. Very little is known about that class of creature.”

  “What did the cleric mean by that?” I asked as we rode toward the crevice. “What does ‘numinous’ mean?”

  “I didn’t understand half the things coming out of that asshole’s mouth,” Popper said.

  “Yeah, he sucked,” Alice agreed.

  “I don’t know what it means,” Gretchen said. “I’ve heard it before, but I don’t remember where.”

  “Numinous,” I repeated as we marched. I wished I had time to go ask Waldo. We marched the rest of the way in silence, a dark, foreboding feeling falling over me.

  Jonah Note 4

  “So,” Popper said as we approached the crevice from the south. “You gonna put all this shit in your book?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m just about done. I’m writing up until the tournament, and then stopping. I need to get it out. Both of you should be working on your stuff also. Maybe you can write about this quest.”

  Popper grunted. “I ain’t got time for writing. I didn’t do it in high school, and I’m not doing it now.”

  “Popper,” I said. “Come on. We talked about this.”

  A few weeks ago, when I first saw the notification, I knew what I had to do. I’d purchased several blank tomes and a handful of magic, neverending pens, and I handed them out to Gretchen and Popper during breakfast.

  “Write,” I said. “I don’t care if it’s a diary, Sonic the Hedgehog erotica, or a manual on how to neuter a walrus. Write every day, at least an hour, but more if you can.”

  “What the hell do I look like?” Popper had asked. He looked at the blank book and pen like I’d just handed him a turd on a stick. “A fucking writer? Am I going to have to wear a beret too?”

  “A beret? What are you talking about?” Gretchen said. The tall, dark-haired woman picked up the blank book and tested its weight. “What’s up, Jonah? Why?”

  “I’ve been writing that book,” I said. “I’ve already gone up to intermediate level in multiple skills. Storytelling. Penmanship. Concentration. But most importantly, I’ve leveled up in both Reading and Writing. Once we hit 11 in Reading, we can start reading basic scrolls. Once we have 11 in both Reading and Writing, the help menu says we can start training in Rune Craft.”

  “The longest thing I’ve ever written is a group of dirty limericks I sent off to Juliette when I was first seeing her,” Popper said. “I ain’t no damn writer.”

  “Become one,” I said, trying not to allow the frustration to show in my voice. “I don’t know how long before we can figure out this Sandra the Learnt thing. Until then, we need to train up the ability to read and write scrolls. If we all get a Rune Craft skill of 11, we can start reading Portal and some of the other good scrolls.”

  “I can cast Portal,” Alice said. The hippocorn sat with Raj at the back of the large room munching happily on a pile of rats she had hunted in the basement. She’d skewered several of them on her horn like a kebab and brought them up into Castle Harmony’s great room so she could eat them in front of the fire. The hippocorn had trained the young polecat to remove the dead rats from her horn, and the kid did it with enthusiasm. Each bite crunched loudly. “I just need to level up.”

  “Yeah,” Popper said. “Alice is my Portal.”

  The hippocorn would gain the ability to cast Portal when she hit level 30.

  “It’s not just Portal,” I said. The magic armory at Castle Harmony held a collection of magic scrolls, and currently only Keta could read any of them. That made me nervous. I didn’t like putting too much faith into the hands of NPCs.

  “It’s a good idea,” Gretchen said, putting the book in her pack. “I’ll start tonight.” She turned to Popper and gave him a look. “We’ll both start tonight.”

  “Can Raj have a book?” Raj said, coming up to us. Blood from the rats dripped off his furry hands. “Raj will write a book like King Jonah! I am collecting sand and shells and rocks. I will write a book about seashells!”

  “Do you even know how to read?” Popper asked.

  Raj seemed offended at the question. “Raj can read! Raj knows his letters!”

  I exchanged a look with Gretchen, who shrugged. I tossed the little polecat a book and pen. He snatched it away and immediately started scribbling furiously in the book, covering the page with red pawprints. “Raj is a writer!”

  “We’ll need to get you a beret, kid,” Popper said.

  * * *

  The fissure had eaten a good portion of what had been the Fremont neighborhood of the real-life Seattle. The crack was about a quarter-mile long and a good fifteen feet across, making it look like a sinister grin. This neighborhood was generally filled with non-humans. Dwarves, half-ogres, and lumbering rock creatures—called astounds—mostly lived here. Gretchen said that astounds were playable characters in the very early versions of the game, but they’d been phased out when DoB was ported to full VR. Gretchen said people used to call them “rock eaters” after some character in an old movie from the 1980’s.

  “Yep,” Popper said, examining the opening. “That’s a chasm troll hole all right. You don’t see ‘em too much in this part of the world, and that’s a pretty big one, but I’ve seen it hundreds of times. They usually pop up in the middle of dungeons.”

  “So, what exactly is a chasm troll?” I asked.

  “Okay, so do you know what a troll is?” Popper asked.

  “Well, I mean, I guess,” I said. “They’re like gnomes, right?”

  Popper sighed heavily. “Yeah, s
ort of. Only they’re seven feet tall instead of a foot tall. And they’re lanky and deadly and dumb instead of round and harmless and smart.”

  “Gnomes are not harmless,” I said.

  “Trolls are much different than gnomes,” Gretchen said. “They’re taller than humans, but shorter than half-ogres. About the size of hobgoblins. They’re yellow and hairy. They tend to fight with bashing weapons, like giant clubs. Normal trolls are mid-level monsters. You need to be about level 11 to take one down.”

  “Okay then,” I said. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “But these aren’t normal trolls,” Gretchen said. “These are chasm trolls. There are many types, and they’re not the worst kind, but the chasm ones are more dangerous than regular plain, old trolls. First off, they have six arms instead of two. They’re not bigger, not like mountain trolls, but they’re very fast. They’re blind, like cave trolls are, and they have an echolocation skill that makes them able to see no matter if it’s dark or light.”

  “And don’t forget the most important part about trolls,” Popper said.

  “I’m getting to it,” Gretchen said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “All trolls have a special ability,” Popper said, interrupting. “They can regenerate. They heal super-fast, so when you attack one, you gotta take it down quick. Just smacking it around and turning to the next one is a bad idea. You gotta make sure it’s dead. Their blood can be used as a nasty-tasting healing potion.”

  “Got it,” I said, “So what’s up with the troll larvae?”

  Popper visibly shuddered. “They’re worse than the full-grown ones because there’s usually a lot more of them. Imagine a little yellow baby, right? Like a fat one, about the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. Okay? Now give it spider legs, a mouth full of gleaming teeth, and a scorpion tail.”

  “Jesus,” I said.

  Popper nodded. “Yeah, they’re scary little fuckers. They’re fast, and there’s always a ton of them. Real trolls don’t have scorpion tales, but the damn babies do. I guess they fall off as they get older. Anyway, you don’t see the larvae too much. The ground rips open, and usually the normal chasm trolls come out. You fight and kill them, and that’s that. Sometimes, though, the babies come out after you kill the adults. It’s the worst. Dozens of the spider baby turkey scorpion things pour out, and they eat everything in sight, like a damn swarm of locusts, crawling on the walls and dropping from the ceiling. They bite and sting. I don’t think they’re poisonous, but it don’t matter. The stinger is as big as a dagger.”

  “Venomous,” Gretchen corrected. “Not poisonous.”

  Popper rolled his eyes. “They’re pretty awful to fight, especially if you’re somewhere where you can get surrounded. You need a flamethrower for that shit.”

  “What about the mom?”

  Popper shrugged. “I think that’s something new. I’ve never even heard of a troll queen mother before. All I know is that you promised I don’t have to be the one on lotion duty.”

  My mind raced. “So if we get these things to fight for us, it would be pretty awesome,” I said.

  “That’s a big if there, buddy,” Popper said.

  “If we pull this off, we probably won’t be given larvae. We’ll be given a regiment of full-grown chasm warrior trolls,” Gretchen said. “They’re probably good hand-to-hand warriors, but odds are they won’t be nearly enough. We need more ranged monsters and flying monsters to beat the hobgoblins back. But don’t you go back into that menu and try to woo some other monsters. Crashing the game isn’t worth it.”

  She was right, of course. Gretchen was usually right about this sort of thing.

  Still…I thought of all the other monsters listed in that tempting menu. I couldn’t help it.

  First things first, I thought. We need to get the trolls on our team.

  Captain Larissa approached as we neared the defensive picket around the jagged crevice.

  “There’s been no visible activity around the exit to the breach,” Larissa said. “I have assembled a platoon of white jackets and a century of volunteer citizens. We stand ready to assault the troll infestation on your order.”

  I looked over to see a ragtag group of “volunteer” citizens huddled together at the edge of the hastily-built military encampment. These were shopkeepers and tradesmen from the city, all with a single chevron over their head. They’d been previously recruited to help defend against the inevitable invasion, and Larissa’s soldiers had been running drills with them to up their skills.

  These civilians, all listed as commoners after a cursory glance, didn’t appear trained at all. The mostly-human, dwarf, and pollywog group appeared to be downright terrified.

  I had access to a war party menu where I could see the stats of each arrowed individual. I could promote and demote members and issue remote orders. I’d spent hours looking over all the options, but I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to use the war menu during a real fight.

  I felt terrible, looking over this group, but what could I do? I needed these soldiers, and the more training they received, the better.

  “Stand down for now,” I said. “Gretchen, Popper, and I are going in to see what’s down there. We’ll take a few of your white jacket soldiers as protection, but I am hoping we don’t have to use all these commoners.”

  “Your majesty,” Larissa said. I could tell the large woman was doing her best to keep the mix of exasperation and horror out of her voice, “that is…that is an exceedingly bad idea.”

  “Maybe so,” I said. “But it’s still what’s going to happen.”

  “Your majesty,” Larissa repeated. “At least let me summon Keta. I will also accompany you to keep you safe.”

  “We don’t need Keta,” Popper said. “This is something we gotta do on our own. You can come, but if we get attacked, don’t just kill everything. Let us do the killing.” He looked at me sideways. “We already got one experience hog in the party. We don’t need another. Keep us safe as we approach the troll queen, but that’s it.”

  Larissa looked at me incredulously, but I nodded my approval.

  “We’re going to get geared up,” I said, slipping off Jenny. “Gather your best fighters.”

  Larissa stiffly turned and started barking orders as we started rummaging through our packs for our battle gear.

  “Do I get to wear my battle armor?” Alice said, hopping up and down on her front legs. “Oh, I love wearing it so.”

  Gretchen and I exchanged a look as Popper eyed the crevice dubiously.

  “Alice,” he said as he pulled his beetle breastplate out of his bigger-on-the-inside pack. “You know I don’t just carry that stuff around with me. It doesn’t fit in my pack. Besides, we are going down into that crevice. You see right there at the end? That’s where we’re going in. It’s like a thin staircase. I want you to come, really I do, but it just isn’t going to happen. Not this time.”

  “What?” she said, looking back and forth between the fissure and Popper. “But I’m part of the team.”

  “You are part of the team. You’re the best part of the team. But you’re not going to fit.”

  Bruce Bruce stood up on two legs after Gretchen dismounted, something I’d never seen him do before. The bear was on the smaller side as far as bears went, but he was still taller than me. “I can fit. I am not nearly as wide, and I shall accompany the party into battle,” Bruce Bruce declared. “Do not worry, Alice. I shall fight with valor and strength, and your presence will not be needed.”

  “You are staying up here, too,” Gretchen said. “You can only walk on those two legs for a few steps before you fall over, and I don’t want you going down there. If you get killed, I’m not so sure I’ll ever see you again.”

  Mounts didn’t regenerate immediately after death like pets did, but it didn’t stop Bruce Bruce from complaining loudly. His complaints joined Alice’s as both the animals tried to convince us to bring them along.

  Popper gave Gretch
en a nod of gratitude.

  I leaned in and whispered in Alice’s ear. “You need to protect Jenny for me. If those things come out, you need to get her safely back to the castle. I wouldn’t trust Bruce Bruce to do that.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed. She looked up. “Stay with me, Jenny.”

  My donkey snorted, but dutifully took a few steps toward Alice.

  I already wore my leather armor, but I also pulled on my royal helmet. The garish and ornate parade-style helmet fit perfectly on my head. The magical helm had been owned by King Bartholomew, and the top of the helm featured the logo for Dominion of Blades: a silver figure of a dragon. It imbued me with a speed enchantment and a +10 skill in both the longbow and the war scythe, neither of which were weapons I regularly used, though I did want to start practicing more with the bow. My regular bow skill was nine, thanks to my hunter class, bumping me up to 19 when I wore the ridiculous helmet. Gretchen was at level 18 normally, and I’d originally been inclined to give her the helmet, which would put her at mastery level with the bow. However, when I tried to hand her the helmet, a message popped up:

  Warning! Voluntarily transferring this helmet to another player transfers the rights and titles of the Dominion Crown to that player. In doing so, you will lose your title as king.

  I’d almost done it anyway. Just almost. I told Gretchen that, and she’d been horrified.

  “Keep that thing away from me,” she’d said. “I don’t want it. I won’t ever want it.”

  I only wore the helmet when speed was absolutely necessary. I felt ridiculous in the thing, and most of the time, it remained in my bag. That made me nervous at first, but Gretchen told me it was marked unlootable. I wouldn’t lose it automatically if I died. Only if I was killed in a fight specifically designated as one for the ownership of the Dominion.

  I sheathed my four-bladed, left-hand urumi around my waist and added Triple Fang back into the main position. I checked the slots of my potion bandolier, and I had the standard array: healing, mystic point restoration, antidote, and several other protection and healing potions. I also now carried a silver invisibility potion. I’d made Keta give me three of them after my adventure earlier in the day. She’d complained at the expense, but I handed one each to Gretchen and Popper, explaining what the potions were and that I’d gotten them from Keta.