I have to get in there and help him.
I take off running. At full speed, I collide with the offending spearman, knocking him to the ground and smashing the end of my club into his face. Notifications pop across my vision, but I ignore them and they fade into the background, barely noticeable.
The wounded troll is unable to stand, but scoots against a tree so that his back is protected. I toss him the dead man’s spear and we make eye contact briefly. Anger burns in his eyes. At least with the spear, he can fight from the ground if he has to.
I’ll do my best to make sure they pay. A spear jabs at my throat, but I smack it out of the way and unleash a powerful kick, sending my attacker to the ground. He gasps for air and I turn to face the final spearman, but he has already retreated. Turning back to the man on the ground, I don’t listen to his cries for mercy as I stomp his head into the earth.
“Can you hold your own?” I kneel before the wounded troll.
“I will be fine. Help the others.”
A sharp pain flares in my back and I turn to see a bloody sword about to pierce me again. I dodge at the last moment, leaving my opponent swiping at air.
“Big mistake.”
He attacks again with a quick slash and the blade lodges against my club. I jerk hard and his weak human arms are unable to keep a grip on his weapon. A flick of my wrist and the sword comes free, sailing into the night.
He holds up his shield in defense and it splinters under the blow of my club, shattering the bones in his forearm. His arm hangs limp, unable to let go of the rickety shield still strapped to it.
I’m up to twenty rage, but I don’t need to use it. Not yet.
The man screams like a child, and then he screams no more.
So much of the forest is ablaze that I am worried the village may burn to the ground if we do not stop this carnage soon.
I spot Tormara in the distance, her red braid swishing through the air, almost alive. The female trolls fight much differently than the males. They attack with speed and grace, not power. She holds a stone dagger in each hand and sparks fly as it clashes, pieces of stone flaking off against the metal sword. She parries the sword to the side and slides the other dagger into the man’s neck.
The chief must be somewhere among the madness, but I don’t have time to search for her. I still need to stop the archers.
Ahead of me, a dozen men with swords and shields surround one of trolls I saw earlier on my walk. He’s level six and not much bigger than me. He keeps the warriors at bay by swinging a large club, but they are closing in.
Gord comes out of nowhere, his body covered in red blood. Human blood. He rushes to his comrade’s defense, knocking two men to the ground with a single blow. The other troll takes action and the two are able to hold their ground, backs to back. The swordsmen move in, five on each side, but are unable to press any further.
The two sides are at a stalemate. The men are wary to move any closer, and the trolls are afraid to give up their position of strength. Their hand is forced when a volley of flaming arrows rain down upon the two trolls.
Gord and his partner cry out in pain, and the humans use the opportunity to attack. They land several blows before Gord swings out blindly, connecting his club with one man’s head and dropping him instantly.
I can’t just sit by. I need to help.
Using Intimidation, I release my battle cry and join the fray. The men look confused and sway back and forth for a moment, unable to attack. With our foes momentarily dazed, I help Gord and the other troll pull the arrows from their bodies just in time for our opponents to regain their senses.
“Keep our backs together,” I say.
“I will give the orders here!” shouts Gord. He cracks his knuckles. “Keep our backs together.”
I suppress the smile that I know will turn into laughter if I let it escape.
Three more men join and once again, twelve surround us. They range from level four to ten, but I can’t really pick and choose who I want to fight. I’ll take whoever attacks first.
“We need to end this before they attack with more arrows,” I say.
“Arrows do not frighten me,” Gord says, but I can tell he is favoring the side where I just removed six arrows.
“We can’t stand here all day!”
“Fine, give me your club.”
I don’t know what he has planned, but I do as he says, mostly because I’d like to be fighting together and not with each other and the humans.
He takes it and hurls it like a boomerang at the men closest to him. It collides with two of them, knocking them unconscious.
“Attack!” yells Gord.
The men are so surprised that we actually get in a few good hits before they react. I use Claw and rip out the throat of the man closest to me. He collapses while his heart continues to pump several streams of blood onto his fellow soldiers.
A sharp blade pierces my side and I kick out in that direction, feeling the crunch of bones beneath my foot. I don’t have time to plan my attacks, so I flail and claw and kick anyone unlucky enough to step in my direction. It’s not pretty, but it gets the job done. A moment later, it’s only the three of us still standing.
“We need to get the archers,” I try to tell Gord, but his eyes are fixed on something in the distance.
“Him.” He points. “He brought this on us.”
A man marches forward from the line of archers. There is nothing remarkable about him, but I can tell that he is a cut above the rest of the soldiers. For starters, he wears chainmail and carries a sword made of steel. A silver helm with a ruby set in the brow catches the light from the fires that rage around us. His armor is a hodgepodge, with no two pieces belonging together. Two separate bracers shield his forearms, one silver and one black. He carries a golden shield engraved with a raven.
Didn’t anyone ever tell this clown you don’t wear silver and gold together?
“Who is this guy?” I ask.
“He is the one they call a hero. Many times, he has come into our lands and many times, he has been slain.” Gord growls. “Today will be no exception.”
He shouts something as he walks, but it is all gibberish to me. There is no doubt in my mind that this man is a real player. No one else would ever dare to look so stupid on the battlefield.
I focus on him and his stats appear.
Glenn Orickson
Level 14
Warrior
Human
What’s left of his men have retreated behind the archers. Many are injured, with only the archers coming through unscathed. At level fourteen, he is the highest level of anyone in the battle and would undoubtedly kick my ass. Gord seems anxious to have a go at him.
A large level nine troll charges at Glenn, stone club in hand. Glenn takes a battle stance and a yellow aura surrounds his body. The sword connects with the club and a violent arc of lightning lashes out, striking the troll and stunning him in place. The gasp from those surrounding me sounds like a thousand hissing snakes.
Glenn lets out a cruel laugh. It needs no translation. Then he pushes his sword into the troll’s throat.
“Ramu!” cries Gord, mourning his fallen brother. “He has never attacked like that. The undying one has grown stronger since our last battle. I must avenge Ramu.”
I grab him by the arm. As big of a dick as Gord has been, if he goes out there, Glenn will kill him.
“Unhand me!” He shakes his arm free.
“If you go out there, he will kill you.”
“If I don’t go, he will kill us all.”
Gord is one of the strongest trolls I’ve met. The village needs him. I can’t let him die.
“Let me go. If I die, I will return. You won’t.”
A fierce struggle rages behind Gord’s eyes as he wrestles with his intelligence and his pride.
“Then I will die.” He picks up a fallen club and sets out in search of Glenn, a loud roar erupting and setting his challenge in stone.
A smile flits across Glenn’s face. There is history between these two.
The remaining skirmishes have all but dissolved and both sides now watch intently at the match before us. Several trolls lie dead, but far more humans. With the troll population shrinking as it is, this battle could prove to be catastrophic. I don’t know how Gord can win this. If he dies, I fear his people die with him. I may very well be the last forest troll by the end of the night.
If only there was something I could do. I’m a hero, but I’m outclassed by the NPCs all around me.
Gord is almost to where Ramu died when Glenn takes a defensive stance. He sheathes his sword and holds firm behind his shield. What in the hell is he doing?
A silver sheen runs across the shield and when Gord attacks, there is an explosion like fireworks. It tosses Gord back nearly ten feet, sparks raining down around him.
All around us, the forest continues to burn.
Glenn pulls his sword and his laughter rings through the forest. It’s almost maniacal. He’s walking towards Gord, a yellow aura surrounding his sword, when I hear a flutter of wings pass by me.
Crimson wings, almost black in places, glide through the underbelly of the forest. As fast as it appeared, there is a puff of feathers and the giant bird morphs into Jira, the shaman.
Glenn takes notice and halts his approach towards Gord.
Jira stands proud, his white-tipped dreadlocks swaying around his shoulders.
Glenn raises his sword and charges Jira. I sure hope he knows what he is doing.
Jira stretches his arms wide and the forest goes silent. Even the crackle of fire disappears. His hands connect with a thunderous clap and flames spark from inside. The fiery tips of the archer’s arrows and the flames that dance in the trees disappear, causing red streams of light to streak across the battlefield towards Jira. A flaming bird rushes out of the shaman’s chest, screeching. It dives for Glenn, pecking and clawing and scorching. He screams in agony, the fiery phoenix burning him alive.
The archers abandon ranks and run.
“After them!” Chief Rizza’s voice cuts through the chaos.
Gord is on his feet, club in hand, running at Glenn. I take off after the fleeing archers and leave him and Jira to their vengeance.
11. Peacemaker
There’s no trace of the fires that raged through the forest only moments before. Whatever magic Jira used sucked every flame from the surrounding forest. I still can’t believe the power of that attack. The fiery phoenix attacked Glenn like a bat out of hell. It makes me wish that magic among trolls wasn’t so rare.
Speaking of Glenn, I return to find his gear stacked next to a larger pile of weapons and armor stripped from the humans. His body is nowhere to be found. The bodies of the fallen soldiers are being piled atop one another. Not a single human survived. Our night vision made the task of tracking them through the woods child’s play.
Four trolls lay side by side on the scorched earth. Jira stands over their bodies, whispering silently.
Chief Rizza rubs ash across each of their foreheads, some ritual I have no knowledge of.
“The undying one will return. He grows stronger each time, but this is the first we have heard of him using magic,” she says.
It won’t be the last. I don’t say it aloud, but I think they know it, too. There is no doubt that Glenn has been questing. His assortment of armor, his abilities, I’m going to need to hit the ground running if I’m going to have a chance at defending this village. He’s already eleven levels ahead of me. Well, ten after his death. How can I be a hero if I can’t even fight my own battles?
Jira finishes his chant and turns to the chief. There is a heaviness about his crimson eyes. A heaviness I’m sure the trolls have experienced far too often.
“I’m sorry I failed you,” he says to the lifeless trolls. “I was deep in sleep when I heard the chaos. Old age has its pitfalls, but I never thought sleeping would lead to the death of my brothers and sisters.”
“It is not your fault, brother,” says Chief Rizza. “We were attacked unaware. We will have time before the undying one tries our village again, but it is all the more reason magic must be restored soon. The night benefited us this time. It may not be so kind again.”
I look over the bodies, but I don’t see Glenn’s anywhere.
“Where is his body?” I ask.
“The only thing heroes leave behind when they die are their belongings.” She tosses a bracer among the pile of looted armor. “We will add these to the stock from previous attacks. Perhaps we will have enough to work into weapons of our own.”
“What now?”
Chief Rizza looks at the pile of bodies. “We will burn the dead enemies, and then we will mourn our own. You will leave first thing in the morning. Help where you can. I have business to attend to.” With a flip of her braid, she is gone.
I suddenly remember all of the notifications I dismissed during the battle. I focus on recalling them and they appear in the left of my vision.
Congratulations! You have reached level 5. +1 stat point to distribute. +1 Strength and Constitution racial bonus. +1 ability point to distribute.
Congratulations! You have reached level 6. +1 stat point to distribute. +1 Strength and Constitution racial bonus.
Warning! You have killed a human NPC. If word of this reaches a human settlement, your reputation among humans will be decreased by 100. Stop your enemies from reaching town before it is too late. Current reputation with humans: -999. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
Warning! You have killed a human NPC. If word of this reaches a human settlement, your reputation among humans will be decreased by 100. Stop your enemies from reaching town before it is too late. Current reputation with humans: -999. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
Warning! You have killed a human NPC. If word of this reaches a human settlement, your reputation among humans will be decreased by 100. Stop your enemies from reaching town before it is too late. Current reputation with humans: -999. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
Warning! You have killed a human NPC. If word of this reaches a human settlement, your reputation among humans will be decreased by 100. Stop your enemies from reaching town before it is too late. Current reputation with humans: -999. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
Alert! You have failed to stop your enemies from reaching town. Your reputation has decreased by 400. Current reputation with humans: -1399. (-1000 Racial Penalty)
What the hell!? We killed all of the soldiers. Not a single one escaped. There is no way I should have lost that reputation. Then, I remember.
Glenn.
Fucking Glenn has become a serious thorn in my side. One that I’m not likely to get rid of any time soon.
I pull up my stats and look them over.
Strength: 23
Dexterity: 15
Constitution: 24
Intelligence: 7
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 6
My Strength and Constitution are really improving thanks to my racial bonus every level. I feel much stronger and healthier than I did earlier in the day. My loincloth even seems to fit a little tighter around my waist.
I now have five stat points to distribute, but I’m still unsure if I should put any into non-physical stats, so I hold off for now. What I’m really excited about is my new ability point. I don’t even hesitate to use it on Berserker Rage.
Berserker Rage. (Ultimate.) Attacks and physical damage build your rage meter. 5 rage per attack. Rage meter deteriorates over time when out of combat at a rate of 5 rage per second. Once the meter is full, Berserker Rage becomes available. For 30 seconds, rage meter is full, deal increased damage, health regenerates at 5x the normal rate, cannot be stunned, slowed or otherwise affected.
I can’t wait to test out this bad boy in battle.
“Make yourself useful,” says Gord. He scowls at me as he tosses a body onto the pile.
“What’s your problem, asshole?” I challenge. He really makes me wish I had more t
han two middle fingers to point in his direction. I’ve had enough of this guy thinking he can boss me around. “You’ve been nothing but a giant dick to me since I got here. What gives?”
He’s in my face quicker than I expect, saliva raining down on me as he yells, hot breath assaulting my face.
His voice is a growl when he speaks. “You come here and think just because you have green skin that it makes you one of us? You are no more one of us than the men who attacked. Ramu and I grew up together. We hunted and battled together. We have fought off countless attacks like today. Just because you can’t die, do you think that makes you special? That I should respect you because the chief gives you a special mission?” He puts his finger against my chest and I feel his heated temperature radiating through it. “You are nothing.”
“That’s enough, Gord.” Jira’s raspy voice comes between us. “Leave the boy be. Chod, come with me.”
I follow Jira back towards the village. Thoughts of pushing Gord off a high ledge run through my mind. He has the charm and charisma of a burning orphanage.
“You have to forgive Gord, he has always been spirited. He lost his father at a young age to an attack and has been distrusting of outsiders ever since.”
That makes a lot of sense, but it still doesn’t excuse his dickish behavior.
“I would think he would be grateful for any help he could get.” I don’t owe anything to these people. I’m agreeing to help because they got a shitty lot, and if I don’t help, no one else will. A little gratitude would be nice.
“Give it time. Chief Rizza knows we are lucky to have you. I do as well. Gord doesn’t yet know the power of heroes. Besides, I think he may feel a bit threatened by you.”
“By me? Gord is, like, ten times stronger than I am. Why would he possibly feel threatened by me?”
“Think about it. You come into our lands, commit a crime anyone else would be punished for, and end up receiving a quest and falling into the chief’s good graces.”
Sentenced to Troll Page 7