by Matt Vancil
“Less talk, more walk.” Yanker fired the smoke arrow into the ground. A fog burst up and enveloped them, covering their retreat.
The dark elf wizard finished her spell, and a hail of meteors pounded the earth. When the fog cleared, the ground was dented in hundreds of places and the grass was on fire, but Yanker and Noob were gone.
Hiding in the underbrush at the edge of Inkwood, Yanker and Noob watched the Wickeds burn the Human Starting Zone to the ground.
One knot of raiders had made a game of setting the NPC villagers on fire. Other Wickeds were knocking the heads off merchants. It looked to Reid like they were having some sort of contest to see who could behead which NPC the farthest. It was impossible to tell for sure with the language barrier. But the winner—a hulking ogress named Trinket—did celebrate after she knocked a chandler’s head over six houses and a donkey.
“Great distance.” Yanker acknowledged. “Did you see the electrical discharge on contact? That’s gotta be a Thunderstroke enchantment.”
“The village,” Noob said. He was hardly attached to the game, but it was still a shock to see his toon’s hometown burned to cinders.
“It’ll respawn in the morning,” said Yanker “The nocs are probably bragging the shit out of this on their channel—look, there’s some new ones coming in from other guilds, probably here to see what all the chat was about.” Some dueling circles went down between Wickeds and the newcomers. “Shit. They’re gonna be here all night.”
“We can’t get rid of them? Our side, I mean.”
“Who’s gonna come help? I wouldn’t. There’s too many of them. And why bother? If our guys are doing anything, they’re probably attacking a noc town since so many of their heavies are here.”
“Noc?”
“Nations of Chaos.”
“If they’re noc, then who are we?”
Yanker grinned. “The good guys, obvs.”
Noob watched the Wickeds cut down a pirate making a desperate break for the edge of town. A small crowd of Wickeds and other newly arrived nocs were following him, taking turns killing him every time he resurfaced.
“What about the lowbies?” Reid asked.
She toed the ground. “Sucks to be them.”
“Good guys, huh?” She grinned again.
A ring of dueling stones fell around Noob. “Fyreballz has challenged you to a duel.”
“Oh, a thousand shits!” Reid knew what he’d see before he turned: Fyreballz standing there, hands blazing.
“Aw, yeah!” yelled Fyreballz. “Thought you could escape by getting the town all bizz-urned dizz-own as a distraction, didn’t you? Well, wrong, gay-bait!” In the dark of the woods, Fyreballz’ fire spells lit up like beacons. The Wickeds on the edge of town had to have noticed
Yanker saw Wickeds pointing their way. “Oh, you idiot.”
“Should we log out?” Noob asked Yanker.
“Do you want them waiting for you here when you log back in?”
“No. Run?”
“Run.”
They plunged deeper into the woods.
Fyreballz whistled. The amplified pitch got the attention of everyone in town and a few folks half a zone over. Fyreballz threw a fireball high up into the woods, where it shone like a magnesium flare, lighting up everything below.
Greef shrieked an order, and the Wickeds hurtled into the woods.
Fyreballz cast an illusion on himself and disappeared. “That’s what you get for not dueling me, homofag!”
Noob surged through the woods after Yanker. “Stay on the path stay on the path stay on the path—”
“Shut up! Here!” She pulled him off the path and dragged him right past a cluster of goblins. They giggled and skipped merrily after him.
So this is how I die, thought Noob. “Where are we going?”
“Wwere gonnsa hold up tikl they stopp chasing ud.” Was Yanker’s reply.
“What?”
“Sry typing with onew hamd.”
She led him deeper into the woods. They bounced down mossy moguls and scattered a flock of Level 50 dire crows. The wooden fortress-complex they’d passed the night before loomed ahead of them. Its entrance was circular, but the circle was full of a strange oily blackness.
“Throu ther1!”
Noob ground to a stop. The circle in the door was black as pitch and had an odd depth to it. Iridescent shimmers danced over its surface. “What the hell’s in the door?”
Yanker abruptly hugged him. A rain of arrows slammed down around them. Several hit Yanker with wet, meaty smacks. Her health bar dropped to a third. “Go in, or we’re dead!” she said. “And don’t move in there, or you’re dead.”
Noob blinked. “Are you sure this is the best—?”
She kicked him through the circle.
A loading screen for the Moonhollow Dungeon filled Reid’s monitor. The graphic behind the status bar depicted an open-roofed wooden castle. Robed cultists worshipped a hideous, horned thing with rows of shark-like teeth.
Reid watched the loading bar fill.
Noob shot out the other side of the black circle and landed on his face. He rolled over and examined the portal: he could see Inkwood beyond, but the colors were inverted, like a film negative. He couldn’t see Yanker, or the goblins, or the Wickeds.
With a weird crack-splash, the circle spat Yanker at him. She tucked, flipped, and alighted on her feet. She glanced down at Noob, still spread-eagled on the floor. “It’s okay. It can take years to stick the landing.”
She helped Noob up. Ahead, the wooden walls opened into a grove littered with fallen monoliths, their stone weathered and overgrown with moss.
“Don’t. Move.” said Yanker. “They notice us, we die. And by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you.’” She indicated knots of cultists—the robe guys from the loading screen—meditating in appropriately spaced clusters throughout the complex. “The lower your level, the more you aggro. In here, you’re a big shiny appetizer with a siren.”
Noob glanced back at the portal. “Something Wicked—”
“Can’t follow us. That black circle? That designates an instance. When you go through, you and whoever you’re grouped with get their own version of the dungeon, their own instance of it. Keeps guilds from swarming the place.”
“So they can’t come through?”
“If they do, they’ll be in their own, parallel version of the dungeon. Make sense?”
“Still no.”
“Eh, don’t lose sleep over it. We’ll just hang here until it’s safe to go back out.”
“Can I log out now?”
“Not in an instance. Sorry.”
“Is there another way out?”
“At the very end, after the end boss.”
“Oh. Would you mind killing us a path?”
“This is a level cap dungeon,” she said. “I can’t solo in here.”
Noob peered at the cultists. Their levels ranged from 99 to 102. Ouch. “So our options are…?”
“I told you. Wait them out.” Yanker stretched, sighed. “So. Wanna tell me why those guys have such a hate-on for you? Now that you’ve dragged us into some kind of crazy guild war?”
Noob shook his head. “I really don’t know. I got Greef killed once, outside Marrowstone. Twice, if you count when you guys got him in the cave.”
“Uh huh. And how many times did he kill you?”
“Uh,” Reid thought back. “Three times. In the woods. No, two—it was the goblins the first time. So yeah, twice.”
Yanker grinned. She burst out laughing. “That’s it! Oh, my God, that’s brilliant! You’re tied!”
“It wasn’t even me who killed him.”
“Doesn’t matter! That’s the beauty of it! This is a PVP server. He had engaged you in combat—you, a Level 1!—both times he got dropped! You know what that means? You’re tagged in those kills! Do you have any idea what that’s done to his PVP rating? He’s tied with a Level 2 for head-to-head kills. Oh, that’s rich. I’ve half a mind to r
oll a NOC alt just so I can give him shit.” She laughed again. When he didn’t respond, she smacked him in the chest. “Come on, it’s funny.”
Reid allowed Noob a chuckle. “Okay, yeah, it is.”
“Damn right it is.”
A patrol of cultists was heading their way. Noob dropped into stealth.
“Good call,” said Yanker. “Still, to be safe, I’m gonna distract them.” She drew a flare arrow out of her quiver, pulled it to her ear, and the Wickeds came through the instance.
On instinct, Yanker whirled and fired her flare arrow right into Greef’s eyes. The flash blinded everyone and whited out Reid’s screen.
When it faded, Noob found Yanker dragging him by the back of his shirt down the corridor past dazed and blinded cultists. She threw him behind a fallen monolith and dove down beside him.
“Bullshit,” she spat. “How the hell did they get in our instance?”
“I thought you said they couldn’t—?”
“They can’t!”
“Then what are they doing here?”
“Duh, looking for us. Keep your head down.”
The Wickeds—Reid could see five of them—got their sight back about the same time as the cultist patrol. With no other targets visible, the cultists attacked the Wickeds. The Wickeds fell upon them in a flurry of blades and magic.
The first cultist dropped. “They’re winning,” said Noob.
“Let me see if any other guildies are on,” said Yanker. She fell silent for a second. “Just Mansex. Better than nothing, I guess.”
“I thought she logged out.”
“She’s leveling one of her alts, a paladin called Cockstorm. Can’t believe they haven’t made her change that. She’s switching over now.”
“Sup, bitches,” typed Mansex over guild chat. “Oh, a Moonhollow run? Sweet, I’ll teleport right there.”
“Um,” said Noob. “You should probably—” Yanker hushed him.
Mansex materialized in an explosion of light, just as the final cultist fell. The Wickeds locked eyes on her. “What the f—?” was all she managed before the first arrows hit her.
“Now!” said Yanker. “Run for the instance!” She led the way past the distracted Wickeds, back towards the entrance. Mansex screamed and died.
“You blue-assed bullfucker!” typed Mansex. Apparently, even if you were dead, you could talk to your friends. Mediums must have it hard here. “I can’t believe you used me as bait! Not cool!”
“Sorry,” said Yanker. “I’ll give you an extra share on the next run, promise.” She turned a corner—and skidded to a halt as another five Wickeds shot in through the instance. “Oh, suckpuppies.” She dove behind a tree.
The new Wickeds ran past Yanker’s hiding spot to join their guildmates, who had already engaged the next cluster of cultists. “How are they doing this?” said Yanker.
“You know,” said Mansex. “I heard rumors there’s this mod you can download. Fourth Wall Break, I think it’s called. It’s supposed to let you follow someone through an instance.”
“That’s so illegal!”
“Yeah. Want to report them?”
“Um,” said Yanker. “Where’s our Noob?”
“Noob?” said Mansex. “You brought Noob? He’s absolute meat in here! I approve, you’re forgiven.”
Noob had fled when the new squad of Wickeds arrived, and stealth-run blindly back through the dungeon. Cultists passed him running the other way to attack the Wickeds, and they either couldn’t see through his stealth or didn’t bother with the lowbie in the corner when there were level capped players to kill.
Noob had wound up in what he assumed was the end boss’s chamber, based on the hulking shark-toothed elk-thing pacing in a circle of cultists. Noob had stealthed gingerly around the rim of the room and discovered a door behind the boss. Through the peephole in the door, he could see another shimmering black circle.
“I found the exit,” he chatted to his group. “Door’s right here. Behind some sharky elk guy.”
“Wendigo,” corrected Mansex.
“I’ll meet you outside.”
“No, don’t!” yelled Yanker. “Stop!”
Noob opened the door and suddenly unstealthed.
“When you touch something,” explained Yanker, “you break stealth.”
Noob looked over his shoulder. The Wendigo was licking its lips. “I really, really wish I’d known that.” The Wendigo unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.
The Wendigo’s footsteps shook the corridor behind Noob as he ran back the way he came. When it got within striking range, it roared and grabbed for him.
A force bubble sprung up around Noob. The Wendigo’s claws bounced off and sent Noob (bubble and all) bouncing like a superball down the hallway—right past Bandaid.
“Huzzah!” cried Bandaid. “I got you! Sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner.”
The bubble-shield bounced into a circular grotto, landed in the middle of the Wickeds, and popped.
Greef grinned down at him and said something in gibberish. The Wickeds laughed.
Noob smiled. “If you like me, you’ll love my new friend.”
The Wendigo burst into the room with a roar—all claws and antlers and slathering maw—and waded into the Wickeds. It kicked Fugly through a stalagmite and bit Crotch clean in half. The remaining Wickeds scrambled to escape the monster.
Noob crawled away, and Bandaid helped him to his feet. “Noble Noob. Couldst thou please explain what’s going on?”
“I really can’t.”
Yanker ran up, pointed at Mansex’s abandoned body. “There!”
Bandaid spotted her body. “Oh, cruel fates! Our friend has fallen, alas!” She burst into tears.
“Stow the RP.” Yanker eyed the Wickeds. “They’re working their way through the Wendigo.” Even with the drop it had gotten on them, the Wickeds had knocked out half its hit points already.
Bandaid stood above Mansex and started casting. “Today, we right a grave injustice! Today, we snatch our friend back from the hands of Death!”
“Heh,” typed Mansex. “You said snatch.”
“Come back to us!” pled Bandaid. “The book of your life has chapters yet unwritten!”
Noob fell in beside Yanker. “Is she always like this?”
“Yep.”
The Wendigo fell to a quarter of its life. A dead Wicked dropped from its antlers.
“By the Light and the Gods Above, I command you to live! Live again!” A pillar of holy light erupted under Mansex and carried her to her feet. Bandaid collapsed dramatically. “It is done.”
“Right,” said Mansex. “Let’s do this shi—”
A net landed over Mansex and Yanker. Bandaid popped to her feet.
Greef had spotted
Greef drew his sword. Noob drew back. With a scrambled curse, Greef slashed Noob across the face, dropping his hit points to single digits.
The Truth barreled past Noob and caught Greef’s next blow on his shield. He bashed Greef backwards a good ten yards.
Greef howled in frustration as the Wendigo bit his head off. With the final Wicked in the place dead, the Wendigo fixed its attention back on its original target: Noob.
The Truth cut Yanker and Mansex free. “Fall in!” yelled Yanker. She nodded to The Truth. “Glad you could make it, by the way.” The Truth nodded.
The Wendigo charged Noob. The Truth planted himself before the Wendigo and hacked at it with its every step. Mansex slowed its pace by half with an ice bolt while Bandaid cast a spell over them all, and their health bars spooled up. Yanker pumped the Wendigo full of arrows—poison arrows, barbed arrows, arrows that exploded on impact and at least one that erupted in a shower of fireworks until its life meter was so low he could hardly see it.
“Noob!” she yelled. “Finish it off! No dancing this time!”
Noob drew his knife and hurled it at the Wendigo.
The Wendigo bellowed, arched, and fell dead with Noob’s knife in its knee. Noob leveled six times in machine-gun bursts of light.
A sudden quiet descended. The guild circled up, looked around. Everything else in the room was dead: the cultists, the Wickeds, the Wendigo. Total carnage.
“Can we dance now?” asked Noob.
The Truth nodded gravely as the rest of
“Hells, yeah!” shouted Mansex. “Pwned and disowned!” Her clothes vanished down to her skivvies. She shook her wares in the Wendigo’s face. “Chuck Norris could have done it better, but only by a factor of several thousand.”
“And now,” said Bandaid, “if nobody minds, I shall resume my studies.”
“Not a problem,” said Yanker. “Thanks for saving our bacon.”
“We should all jet,” said Mansex. “It’s about a two minute run from the nearest Underworld entrance. The Wickeds have probably rezzed there by now.”
“Right,” said Yanker. “Everyone out.”
“Just one sec,” said Noob. “There’s something I gotta do.” He knelt down by Greef’s body and whispered: “Three to two.”
He rose to find Yanker grinning at him. “Hey,” she said, “you wanna see a dragon?”
6
Painkiller Dreams
TIP: Healing potions can be purchased from most vendors. If you have the right skills, you can make your own!
Yanker led Noob to a corner of the Inkwood where a meadow was hidden behind the crest of a thorn-crowned hill. Reid followed her instructions this time and they arrived without incident. Below them, a line of flowering trees ringed an idyllic glade. A colossal dragon paced around the glade, moonlight glittering off blood-red scales.
“Pretty cool, yeah?” Yanker asked from over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” said Noob. “Wow.” He didn’t really have anything to compare it to. It was larger than any animated thing he’d seen in the game. He also didn’t see any other animal life here, and no monsters aside from the dragon. “So… why’s it here? What’s it do?”
“That’s just it,” she said. “Nothing. There’s no reason for it to be here. None.”
