“Seventh Company, form up!” the goblin’s squeaky voice piped up near a squat shanty that humans, elves, dwarves, and even a few cave people (I assumed that’s what they were, given their size and the lack of a better description) were pouring out of.
The whole mob lined up next to the building and looked at the lieutenant devotedly. “Okay, troops,” the orc started, hands behind his back. “We’re heading out for Lanook; they’re having problems with a treewalker outbreak. Corporals Raikh, Milkus, Troot, Naig, and Dro, your squads will be taking this one.”
“Master Lieutenant, I’m four short of my ten,” boomed a barbarian named Dro.
“I’m short as well,” an elf named Troot added.
“Agreed,” nodded Grokkh, “which is why the first four of these bodies will be joining you, Dro, and the rest you and your ears can take, Troot. By the way, there’s one who looks like he knows a thing or two, so use him well.”
The orc pointed at me, and I immediately assumed a valiant, oafish look to make sure I fit the part.
“Okay, so that’s one, but the rest are just sword grease,” the elf muttered in annoyance. “I only have one veteran left as it is, and with these…”
“Don’t argue with the master lieutenant,” snapped the goblin. “You’ll take what you're given; we don’t have crap else.”
I was convinced the elf should have boxed the goblin’s ears for that, but, to my surprise, he just sighed deeply and held his tongue.
“You have five minutes to gather, and then we’re porting out,” Grokkh said, holding up his hand before leaving.
“My three with me, let’s go,” ordered the elf.
Fattah, who was also assigned to the elf, the halfling Moldo, and I, ran after him.
“Stay away from the front; do your best to survive. If you live through your first battle, you might make it to the end of your contract. If not, well, you’re out of luck. Does everyone have a weapon? Excellent.”
Our corporal perked up at that last bit of news.
While the group got busy putting their cuirasses, pauldrons, and other equipment on, I quickly pulled up my map to see how close I was to my main target. The map showed me that I was smack dab in the middle of an enormous expanse titled the South. The red spot I was looking for was much farther east of where I was, and I had no shot at trekking my way through the jungle and savanna that lay in between it and me. Putting away my map, I started to think, and even rubbed my chin, when I got a hefty kick from the corporal.
“Warrior, you should have thought before you signed the contract. You don’t get to think now; your job is to fight.”
Five minutes later fifty soldiers were standing on the parade ground ready for battle.
“Go through the portal with your squad,” the goblin yelled. “Raikh’s squad, march!”
We tramped across the firm ground, equipment jangling, and the first squad dove into the blue portal. They were followed by the second and third squads, and then by us.
On the other side of the portal was a small village made up of straw houses. I’d seen something like them in Vietnam, where a group of us journalists had been sent three years before. Vietnam is no Ireland, and the diseases and snakes left most of my colleagues with no desire to make the trip. I, as usual, drew the short straw. Anyway, the huts there looked like what was right in front of me. The same could not be said of the locals themselves.
Some kind of shaggy creatures lived in the village. They had monkey-like faces, and they only came up to my waist. The little things were being slaughtered by black monsters reminiscent of short, gnarled trees with long arms and fiery eyes. The Raidion developers have to be smoking something. They just have to. There is no way a healthy person could imagine what I saw there. It was just a good thing the monsters were only Level 50…
“Raikh’s squad, you take the southern flank. We may push them that way, so have your troops ready,” we heard Grokkh call loudly. Oh, hey, he came with us? The respect I had for the lieutenant jumped. “Dro, you take the northern flank since you have all the new kids. Make sure they don’t circle around behind us—that’s a favorite trick of theirs. The rest of you, attack from the center in three wedges. Remember, take out their legs, since that’s their weakest part. And stay away from their fingers—if they latch onto you, they won’t be letting go.”
Now that’s a good commander right there. It was exactly what we needed to hear.
“Archers, drop back and cover us!” our corporal ordered. “Swordsmen, weapons at the ready. Move!”
All three squads started their advance at the same time, encircling the slaughter in front of us in a pincer movement. Leading the attack was Raikkh’s squad, which didn’t have any archers. It did, however, have unusually strong, well-armed troops representing the humanoid races.
It suddenly crossed my mind that I’d stopped differentiating between players and NPCs. We were in the middle of actual war—not a raid, not a dungeon, and not your usual sword fight. As far as I could tell, the mission we were on was nothing unusual for the Free Companies, just another day on the job. And that’s exactly how everyone around me approached it.
Our squad got to where the villagers were under attack, and our corporal, who was at the head of our wedge of seven warriors, quickly dove in and sliced the legs out from under the first treewalker in our path. It wobbled and fell, where Ur, a Northerner following behind Troot, buried his sword in its head.
“Stay on your toes!” yelled Troot, though he was just a tad late with his order.
A treewalker dashed over from the side, hooking his long fingers into Moldo’s shoulder and yanking him out of the formation.
Moldo screamed from fear just as much as from pain, and I dashed after him. An arrow, probably fired by Fattah, thudded into the treewalker, who was carrying Moldo along through the air. But there was nothing we could do; another of the black monsters came over and helped its friend tear the poor halfling’s body apart.
And this is supposed to be a game? I thought. How did they possibly get a license for something like that?
But I had no more time to think, as yet another arm snaked toward me. I threw up my shield, the wooden fingers sliding along it like fingernails on a chalkboard. Crouching slightly, I swung parallel to the ground and felt my blade meet and cut its way through my target.
The beast, its eyes flashing, toppled over, though its fingers reached for me as it did. A few jabs at its head finished it off.
The battle raged all around, though I could tell that we were winning. The remaining treewalkers turned tail and hopped off in the direction of the forest. Happy to see them go, the furry villagers let out a cry of relief, and a few minutes later the whole thing was over.
You unlocked Mercenary, Level 1.
To get it, participate in 49 more battles as a member of the Free Companies or Wild Brigade.
Reward:
+3% ability to use your main weapon
+10% respect in the eyes of your commander (isn’t lost if your commander is replaced)
To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.
I didn’t expect an action, but they were always nice to have.
“Got it?” Fattah walked over.
I glanced up at him. “Yep. Hey, you know what I was wondering? If we were to die right here in this village as part of a mission, where would we respawn, and where would our things go?”
“You should really read a guide once in a while,” replied Fattah indignantly. “That’s one of the benefits you get with the Free Companies; when you die, you take your things back with you to the respawn, which is—”
“That much I know,” I interrupted him. “Where your unit is. So if everyone’s here, I’d respawn right back here?”
“Exactly. They put that in as compensation for all the downsides there are to joining the Free Companies—you may have come of your own free will, but this still really limits what you can do in the game. Just remember that
only works for battles you’re fighting as part of and at the order of the Free Companies. If you just go jumping into something on your own, you’ll respawn back with your unit but without your things.”
Interesting. Still, not bad.
“Yeah, it’s pretty rough here.” Fattah slung his bow over his shoulder. “War.”
“Agreed,” I replied with a nod. “Apocalypse Now.”
“Well, warriors, everyone still alive?” Troot came over. “That little guy, they ripped him in half, right? That’s a shame; we’re back to being a man short.”
The elf walked quickly back to Grokkh and the other corporals.
“So this is our life now, day after day,” Fattah said thoughtfully. “For a year.”
“No, I definitely won’t make it that long,” I replied honestly. “I’ll get out sooner.”
“If you have the money, you might as well. I don’t, and I want that ability, so I’m going to put in my time.”
“What happens if I can’t log into the game? My clock will still keep ticking, right?”
“Yes, though there are lots of limitations. You’re fine if you miss a day, but two in a row means disciplinary measures and kissing the ability goodbye. You take a pay cut if you miss three to seven, and you get experience and ability penalties as well as the death list if you miss more than ten.”
There wasn’t much room to squeeze around that. If I’d read what people were writing, I might not have enlisted in the first place. Of course, I could find the money if I needed to—I had more than 20,000 as it was, and I could borrow the rest. The Witch wouldn’t turn me down, I figured, and I could ask Gedron as well. If worst came to worst, I could borrow from the Tearful Goddess Order at interest. Gunther, I knew, would introduce me to that Brother Yur. But there was no hurry. And that’s a lot of money to spend…
Battle results
Your participation amounted to 3.84% of the total.
Performance: 1 opponent killed
Reward:
76 gold
520 experience, of which:
200 is for the opponent you killed
320 is your bonus for the battle and victory
Points collected toward the hidden bonus: 2 of 1000
“Cool!” I blurted out.
“How much did you get?” Fattah asked.
“Not much gold, 520 experience. What’s the hidden bonus?”
“Oh, bro,” Fattah said, his eyes squinting, “you have no idea! Once you collect a thousand points, you can head to the Wild Brigade headquarters and open the trunk in the banner room for free. And there could be anything in there. I saw a guy once who pulled out a complete set—it wasn’t for his class, but it had all four items for the set together. True, you can get crap like a potion or hair coloring, but you’re more likely to get something good.”
Well, that’s a plus. I was getting double the usual experience, and if I really worked at it…
“Hey, just one thing—if you die in battle, the experience you got doesn’t count,” broke in Fattah.
I sighed. “That’s a shame.”
“I hear you. Okay, I’m going to go over and make an appearance with the commanders.”
Fattah walked away, leaving me to open my map and see where we were.
I’d gotten lucky; we were halfway across the South. I wasn’t any closer to my goal, but I could tell that a couple weeks of battles and campaigns would give me a decent shot at somewhere close to where I was going. Yeah, I think I’ll stick around to do some fighting. The experience was good, and things were lively enough. Of course, there was another thing I could tell would come in handy. Whatever the local green runt had planned for me, I didn’t think it would be that simple. To be more precise, it will probably be brutal.
Not everyone lived to see the end of the battle. Besides the poor halfling, another three warriors found their way to the afterlife, and I realized why Rourk made sure he sealed the deal with anyone who walked into the recruitment center. At the rate we were losing bodies, he had to—and I could only imagine he was getting some kickbacks as well.
“Okay, warriors!” yelled Falk’s shrill voice. “Let’s get ready to head back.”
The squads lined up next to each other, and I found myself behind a tall beanpole named Ur. Behind me was Fattah. We all stared at the lieutenant, who was discussing something with the local leader. He was just as shaggy as the rest of them, just with feathers around his head. While the leader was waving his arms around, he soon stopped, sighed deeply, and stabbed a finger at the parchment Grokkh was holding.
“What are they doing?” I asked Ur, gently poking him in the back.
Ur turned his head. “Ah, one of the newcomers. Their guy marked the paper to prove that we provided military aid. Now their prince owes us money to compensate for our losses and expenditures. We wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for that.”
So they keep track of the money, too.
“You did good work, by the way; I saw you,” continued Ur. “That wasn’t the first time you’ve used a sword, I imagine?”
“I’ve been around the block.” There was no sense hiding the truth. “You’re from the North?”
“Yep. I was born near a burg named Foyrin.”
“I know it, I was just there recently.”
“Seriously?” Ur perked up. “I haven’t been back in ten years, ever since I left to wander Fayroll. How are things there? Mind telling me when we get back?”
“Why not?”
“I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys,” Ur promised. “And I can tell you what to do around here to make sure things aren’t harder than they have to be.”
“Company, squad by squad, into the portal, march!” Grokkh yelled.
And off we walked into the portal.
Chapter Three
In which we find that some decisions are made for us.
Our ten-man squad (well, nine-man already, since Moldo had been sent on to NPC heaven without even a taste of all the benefits that come with military service) turned out to be a good one. Besides me, Fattah, and big Ur, we had Garron, a talkative southerner; Ping and Pong, two happy-go-lucky brothers from the East; two westerners, Mikos and Torn; and Lane, the latest in a long line of trackers from the Borderlands—an area that split East and West and was, judging by the one native I’d met, a fun place. Fattah and I were the only players in our motley band.
The guys showed us the barracks, which is what the squat buildings near the parade ground turned out to be. Inside, everything was spartan: double bunk beds and a few tables with bow-legged chairs around them.
“The main thing to remember, gentlemen,” Garron said from his bunk, “is to hold your sword tightly, keep a close eye on your friends’ backs, and follow the commander’s orders without question. If you do that, you’ll be fine. I’ve already been here more than a year, and I’m alive, my stomach is full, there’s money in my pocket, and I get drunk once a week. That’s all they allow.”
“Oh, and stay away from the louse with the ears,” Lane interjected slowly.
“Right, that’s important. Don’t get involved with Falk,” Garron added with a nod. “He’s a rat the likes of which you’d have to do some searching to find.”
I tensed up a little. “I already got involved with him.”
“Your first mistake,” Torn said from one of the top bunks. “Watch your back now. What did you guys talk about?”
“He liked the look of my sword,” I answered honestly. “The problem is that I like it, too.”
Ping whistled; Pong grinned.
“Should’ve just given it to him,” said Mikos, who was busy digging in a chest he’d pulled out from under his bed. “Your life’s going to be miserable until you do, and he might just try to kill you.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I was really starting to get nervous. A goblin-faced terror haunting my dreams was the last thing I needed.
The group jostled to tell me Falk’s unusually interest
ing, nay infamous, life story. He was, in fact, a mountain goblin. They were a quirky breed of villains that weren’t as easily distracted by shiny nothings or their empty stomachs. Of course, eating and thieving were part of who they were, but they also made for decent strategists, excellent spies, and the dirtiest operators in Fayroll.
Somehow—and probably through some sort of misunderstanding—this particular example saved Grokkh’s life ten years before, back when Grokkh was just a sergeant serving in the Ripa Mountains. The then-sergeant’s entire squad had been killed in an unsuccessful raid, and he was forced to drag himself through the snow to the nearest outpost. Why Falk decided to save him rather than bury him in an avalanche nobody knew. Ever since, the two had been inseparable, with the little green beast forgiven for any trouble he got into—and he got into a good bit of trouble.
“That’s why we try to keep our distance,” Mikos concluded sadly.
“If only he would keep his distance from us,” Ping chimed in with a smile.
“That he doesn’t want to do. Never has,” confirmed Pong.
It was a shame, but I was having a hard time picturing what the goblin could actually do to me, even if Grokkh had his back. He could spit at me, but I figured I could deal with that.
The group then informed us that there were three companies in Dinjir: the Third, our Seventh, and the Ninth. The Ninth was going through a rough patch, as they’d had their rears handed to them by nomads from the Sinrin Plains. Something spooked them, or maybe they’d had too much to drink—everyone knew how much the tribes like their fermented milk—either way, they’d climbed down off their camels and cornered the Ninth Company in a ravine. The battle was fierce; only about a seventh of ours survived, and the company was waiting for reinforcements. It was strange we’d been sent to the Seventh rather than to the Ninth.
Fayroll [04] Gong and Chalice Page 3