by Hondo Jinx
Dan smiled. A dose of familiarity was nice.
But then, nearing the table, he got a closer look at the game they were playing.
“Advanced Drudgery & Dullards,” he read aloud.
“You know it, baby!” Jerry said.
“It’s been pretty eventful since you left for class,” Willis squeaked, climbing onto a tall stool.
“Oh, shit, I’m late!” Jerry mocked.
Dan barely heard them. On the cover of The Drudgery Master’s Guide, a sleepy-looking guy in a tan suit stood at a crosswalk, holding a briefcase.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Willis continued, pushing toward Dan a sheet of graph paper that appeared to map not a dungeon or a castle but a corporate office full of cubicles, “a lot has happened. Rick filled out his monthly expense reports and tried to file them, but the system went down, so now he’s stuck at the watercooler.”
Willis nodded toward Jerry, who was grinning excitedly. “Ol’ J-Money put in for a promotion.”
“You know what that means,” Jerry said, and bounced his thick eyebrows up and down. “I’ll get +1 on my roll when I propose to a girl.”
“If you get the promotion,” Willis said, giving his player a don’t-be-so-certain look.
“Here,” Rick said, handing Dan a sheet of paper and a potbellied lead figure wearing glasses and a cheap business suit.
Dan looked down at the Drudgery & Dullards character sheet.
Player’s name: Dan
Character’s name: Bob
Strength: 8
Intelligence: 13
Wisdom: 11
Dexterity: 10
Constitution: 11
Charisma: 8
Character class: third-level accountant / tenth-level procrastinator
Dan blinked at the sheet for a few seconds. It was all too much.
“I can’t play,” he said robotically, and turned to leave.
“Dude!” they called after him. “Come on, man! We need you!”
Dan marched straight to his room, closed the door behind him, and let out a shuddering breath.
“Just have to catch your breath,” he told himself. “Just have to chill out for a minute, get your balance.”
He paced his small room.
His room was still messy, and the walls were still covered with photos from home and posters of hot girls in bikinis, only the girls now wore leather or fur.
He saw no weapons, no armor, nothing that said barbarian.
He felt a surge of disappointment. Zohaz the Magnificent had lied.
Oh, the genie had changed the world around Dan, but the rest of it? Dan being strong and girls liking him, adventures and all that? A big, fat lie.
He turned and faced the mirror.
Same old Dan.
Sure, he had a square jaw, a thick neck, and broad shoulders, just like a million other country boys, but he was no hulking barbarian. “Maybe that guy on campus was right. Maybe I’m just a peasant.”
Then a deep voice from the other side of the room startled him, roaring, “To Hades with that!”
9
Meeting the Mentor
Dan shouted with surprise and spun around, but the room was empty. “Hello?” he called, feeling stupid. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
He saw no one.
Had he just imagined the voice?
Be careful, he thought. This is a T&T world now. It could be someone invisible.
He raised his fists and took a tentative step forward. Then he saw what was leaning inside his open closet.
“Whoa… a sword.”
And not just any sword. A huge two-handed sword in a no-frills scabbard, just like the one he used in Towers & Trolls.
Still seeing no one in his room, he retrieved the massive sword and grinned. For all its massive size, the sword was light.
He buckled the scabbard onto his belt and drew the sword. The draw was quick and easy, far too smooth and effortless for a sword this length.
Just like in Willis’s campaigns, he thought. Willis even let you wear and draw a two-handed sword from your back, physics be damned.
The large pommel was a perfect fit for his big, calloused hands. He gave it a little swing, and his grin graduated into a full-blown smile. The blade was perfectly balanced.
“All right, asshole,” the sword said in the deep voice that had spoken moments earlier, “let’s get this party started!”
Dan squawked with surprise, dropped the sword, and backpedaled to the wall.
Rich laughter filled the room. The sword was laughing at him! “Some warrior you are, kid!”
“You startled me,” Dan said. He stared at the sword for a second. He saw no mouth. The weapon’s voice came out of nowhere. Normally, he might’ve freaked, but after the day he’d had, he recovered quickly. “All right if I pick you up?”
“You’d better pick me up if you want to survive in this world,” the sword said.
“So you're… what… a talking sword?”
“You’re sharp.”
“Was that a sword joke?”
“Maybe,” the sword said. “Look, kid, I’d shake your hand if I had one to offer, but I don’t. I’m Wulfgar Skull-Smasher, fearless barbarian, famous drunkard, and insatiable sex God!”
“You’re my T&T character?”
“I was,” Wulfgar grumbled. “Now, as you can see, I’ve changed forms. But I'm more than the sword. I'm your mentor. How are you liking the new world so far?”
Remembering Garth, a seven-foot-tall hyena with a hundred-dollar haircut, Dan shook his head. “I don't know. Towers & Trolls is fun, but this is real, you know? I mean, it's really dangerous out there.”
“What the fuck, dude?” the sword shouted. “Are you really Dan?”
Dan hissed and looked at the door. “Hey, man, not so loud.”
“Don't be such a worrywart,” Wulfgar said. “Those pansies can't hear me. Only you can hear me.”
“Oh.”
“Let's get down to business,” the sword said. “Your glorious mentor is ready. Hit me with questions.”
A flood of questions roared through Dan’s skull. Ironically, however, there were so many, it was hard to choose one.
“I'm waiting,” Wulfgar said in an impatient, singsong voice.
“Okay,” Dan blurted, “what happens if I, you know, die?”
The sword laughed. “Everybody dies.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Are you asking if you get to go back to Boring Land if somebody chops your head off?”
“Yeah,” Dan said with a shrug, “or maybe I get to start over or something? Make a new character?”
The sword was silent for a moment. “I'm not sure.”
“Wow,” Dan said sarcastically. “Some mentor you’re turning out to be.”
“In that capacity, I’d recommend that you assume the worst and avoid getting killed.”
Dan let out a low whistle. “There seem to be a lot of ways to die here.”
“A lot of ways to live, you mean!” Wulfgar thundered. “Stop pussyfooting around. See, this was your problem back in the real world. You're too fucking timid. You gotta get out there and live a little. Did you even notice the girls on your walk here? They’re hotter than ever–way hotter! You don't believe me, look out that window.”
Dan pulled the curtain aside, looked out the window, and moaned. Holly stood on the lawn, talking to the stocky guy in ring mail. “Holly,” he groaned.
“Yeah, that's her, but she's even hotter now!” Wulfgar said. “That rack! That face! Shit, can you imagine those purple eyes staring up at you while you give her the old—”
“All right,” Dan interrupted, letting the curtain fall. “I get you, but I've never been very good at talking to girls.”
Wulfgar growled with frustration. “Wake the fuck up, asshole! This is your opportunity to start over. Don't tell me how old-world Dan used to be. Tell me what you're going to be like
now. Better yet, don't tell me. Show me. You made the wish. Now make the life!”
Despite the anxiety whirling within him, Dan felt a little surge of excitement.
A clean start…
“You're acting like some kind of victim,” Wulfgar said. “This is your wish come true, remember? Your fantasy world. These girls are fierce creatures, with hot blood, ready to fight or fuck whoever and whenever they see fit. Now grow a set of balls, get out there, and talk to Holly.”
Dan balled and un-balled his fists. What would he even say to her? “I don't know,” he said. “She's talking to someone.”
“Fuck that guy,” Wulfgar said. “He doesn't like you talking to her, wash me to the hilt in blood!”
Dan laughed nervously, thinking, Yeah, but what if he cuts me in half instead?
Wulfgar sighed. “Look, if you're really too much of a pussy to enjoy your own fantasy, Zohaz the Magnificent did give you an out. But if you're going to use it, you gotta use it right now. All you have to do is grab your character sheet and jump into that Drudgery & Dullards game. Do that, and all of this will fade away. No more Wulfgar, no more hot chicks, no more adventure. You can have your boring, old, shitty life back.”
This time, it was Dan's turn to sigh. At least he had an option to go back.
This was crazy. Should he stay, or should he go?
If I stay, he thought, all my fantasies could come true. Girls, gold, and glory. On the other hand, I might get beaten to death on College Ave.
He paced back and forth. If he did go back, it would only be to avoid risk and danger. He wouldn’t be going back for something. His real life sucked. And unless he pulled some kind of miracle, he was going to lose his scholarship soon.
He imagined sitting at the dinner table at home, not on a visit from school but permanently, imagined looking down at his food and wondering how much it cost, wondering if his father was having the same thoughts, calculating the number of hours he had to work at the factory to feed his disappointment of a son, washed up at nineteen.
Of course, Dan would get a job as quickly as he could. Guys at the slaughterhouse, where he would be lucky to get a job, got paid well, but they all had horrible nightmares. Over the years, slaughterhouse work took its toll.
People got cut, got pulled into machinery, fell off the steel ramps while power washing. But you didn’t even need to have an accident to mess yourself up. Guys in the boning room, their index fingers got crooked from holding the knife and making the same cut over and over and over. They called it trigger finger.
“Time’s running out,” Wulfgar said. “It's now or never, half-stepper. Decision time. You’ve got five minutes to walk out there, join the game, and book a one-way ticket back to Boring-ville. Otherwise, you're stuck here with your old pal Wulfgar and everything else. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And believe me, you haven’t seen ugly until you’ve seen a zombie crawling with maggots.”
Dan paced faster. What should he do? He didn't want to go back to his old life, but what chances did a first-level character have in a world like this?
Outside, a scream knifed through the night air.
Dan raced to the window, pulled aside the curtain, and gasped.
Holly!
The stocky guy in ring mail hustled away into the darkness, screaming.
In the yard outside, Holly swung her staff in a luminescent arc, trying to fend off four attackers in midnight blue cloaks, all of them edging toward her, blades in hand.
10
Sweet, Sweet Blood
Dan threw open the window and punched the screen from its frame.
“Take me with you,” Wulfgar growled.
Dan grabbed the sword, climbed out of the second-story window, and dropped to the ground. His legs, feeling strong and steady, absorbed the shock and launched him in a mad sprint toward Holly and her attackers.
Red-hot rage roared up in him. He’d never before felt anything like this urge, this need, to destroy. Fueled with bloodlust, he bellowed a barbaric battle cry.
Some small part of him knew that shouting was stupid. The element of surprise and all that…
But the rest of him didn't give a damn. It didn't matter if they knew that he was coming. He was going to butcher them for threatening Holly.
Startled, the robed men turned to face him, blades at the ready.
Holly's glowing staff cracked hard into one of the hooded heads, and that guy collapsed in a heap.
Instinctively, Dan jumped into the air, hoisting his massive two-handed sword high overhead.
“Time to die, assholes!” the sword bellowed.
Dan flew through the air… flew and flew and flew, soaring a good twenty feet before his boots smashed into the chest of one of the men with the loud crack of breaking bones.
The guy jerked backward and slammed to the ground. His short sword spun away.
Dan hit the ground shoulder first and rolled with it, tumbling past Holly and popping onto his feet. He felt strong and dextrous and absolutely out of his mind with battle rage.
Something thudded into his thigh. Then he was aware of one of the robed men dancing away.
What had the guy done, kicked him?
Now the asshole jabbed at him with a dagger of black metal.
Dan dropped back, avoiding the blade. Then, as the guy drew back his arm, Dan stepped back in, swinging Wulfgar in a wide arc that caught the guy just below the ribs, sliced through robe and flesh and bone, and cut the man nearly in half. The remains fell into a dark-robed, strangely shaped heap.
“Sweet, sweet blood!” Wulfgar roared. “That’s the stuff. Give me more. I’m fucking thirsty!”
Dan stepped up beside Holly, who faced the last of her attackers.
“You should have let us take you,” the robed man told her. A nasty grin shone from within the dark recesses of his hood. “Catch you later.” He flicked his wrist as if tossing something to the ground.
There was a sharp cracking sound, and a pillar of pitch black smoke spangled with hissing sparks billowed up around the man.
Dan's lips peeled back from his snarling teeth, and the hair at the back of his neck stood on edge. “Magic!” He sneered with primal loathing and swung Wulfgar straight through the smoking column.
But where he had expected to feel the glorious sensation of his two-handed sword cleaving the man in half, he felt nothing.
Nothing at all. Only air.
He lifted the sword overhead, ready to drive it downward through like an executioner’s axe.
“Don't bother,” Holly said, panting softly. “He's gone.”
“Gone?” Dan said, and shuddered with revulsion. In a flash, he understood something about his new self. He hated magic. The hatred was bone deep, instinctual, as real as anything he'd carried here from the other world.
That’s because you’re a barbarian, he realized.
Strange, that. He wasn’t just playing a character class; he was feeling its traits.
Holly stepped over the man she had hit from behind. By the unnatural shape of his head, the guy was clearly dead.
She approached the only survivor still here, the groaning man whom Dan had leveled with his high-flying dropkick.
The man pushed unsteadily off the ground and stared in the direction of his blade.
Holly crouched beside him, drew a short dagger from the silky folds of her purple cloak, and held the point to the man's armpit. “Don't bother,” she said.
She must have pricked him with the point, because the man gave out a pitiful yelp. But he didn't make a move toward his weapon. She definitely had his attention.
Dan trotted over, Wulfgar at the ready.
“Yowza!” Wulgar shouted, as Dan looked down at the crouching girl. “Have you ever seen a rack like that?”
Dan hadn’t, and the view was amazing from where he stood above her, but he shoved the sword back into its scabbard, reducing the foul-mouthed blade’s dialogue to a muffled clamor.
Luckily, Holly hadn�
��t heard Wulfgar.
She ripped back the man’s hood, grabbed a fistful of light brown hair, and shoved hard, knocking the guy flat again and smashing his face into the ground. She drove a knee into his spine, pinning him to the ground, yanked his head back, and pressed the blade to his exposed throat.
“Who are you?” Holly demanded. “Why did you try to kidnap me?”
“You’re the only grey elf on campus,” the man said. “Perfect gift for the Mother of Darkness.” His lips wriggled into a sickly smile. Dry, nasty laughter chortled out of him. “You can't stop the darkness!”
“Neither can you,” Holly said, and drew her blade across his throat. He bucked and gurgled but died quickly.
Holly cleaned her hands and blade on the dead man’s robe, then looked up and gave Dan a smile. “Thanks, neighbor,” she said, and offered her hand. “I’m Holly.”
“Dan,” he said, and shook her hand.
Her purple eyes traveled up and down his body, and the corners of her mouth curled upward.
“No offense,” Holly said, “but I'd always thought you were a peasant. I had no idea that you were a barbarian.” She gave him another once-over, bit her lip, and said, “Let's search the corpses before the city guard shows up.”
Dan blinked. “Okay,” he said and walked over to the guy that he had cut pretty much in half.
Part of him knew that this was very, very weird. He and the cute, formerly geeky girl from across the hall had just killed a few people on the lawn behind their apartment house, and now she was telling him to loot the corpses as matter-of-factly as she might suggest ordering a pizza.
As if killing was no big deal.
And truth be told, it didn't feel like a big deal.
Sure, battle had been exciting. In fact, he’d worked himself up into a pretty good frenzy.
But now it was over, and he didn’t feel a drop of remorse.
Holly was right. Search the bastards before the cops arrived. Just like in T&T.
“You're wounded,” Holly said, pointing to his thigh.
“I am?” Dan grunted, and looked down. His jeans were torn midthigh. Below this, his leg was covered in blood that looked black in the moonlight.