The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set

by Eric Ugland

  There is a party quest, you have automatically accepted the quest.

  There is a party quest, you have automatically accepted the quest.

  “We have quests?” I asked.

  “There you go, getting on board,” Nikolai replied. “We are here on a quest and a clean up. And I told you we were on a quest.”

  “To kill goblins.”

  “That was just a ruse. Come.”

  He crawled up the ridge and peeked over.

  I followed and saw a small grey castle sitting in a slight depression. It was up against the hillside beyond, and looked pretty wrecked. One of its three towers had mostly collapsed and scattered bits of the southern wall across the area, leaving it with roughly two and a quarter spires. The portcullis was down, where it should be, but the gate was missing. Not a scrap of wood remained.

  “Unique fixer upper opportunity,” I whispered.

  “Pay attention,” he snapped back under his breath.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to be paying attention to, but after a moment, I saw movement. A humanoid walked across a window.

  “What is this—” I started to ask, but Nikolai clamped his hand over my mouth, and pulled me down below the ridgeline.

  “What have I said about speaking?” he hissed.

  “Don’t do it,” I replied.

  “We are here to rescue some missing townsfolk inside, and punish those who’ve been harassing and worrying Saumiers. They outnumber us. They likely out-level you. Your education begins today.”

  He crawled back to the ridgeline and peeked over. When I attempted, he used his foot to keep me from moving.

  A moment or two passed, and I rolled over to look up at the sky, watching the clouds, clouds which got ominously dark over towards the west.

  “Toddler,” Nikolai said, “listen.”

  I ground my teeth together, but looked back to him.

  “A storm will hit soon. My guess, it will be heavy rain. As soon as that comes down, we go over and around. I have a feeling there is a better way in along the side. Near the fallen tower.”

  “Who, or, I mean, what are we going to find in there?”

  “Same as before. Bandits mostly. There is a chance of nastier enemies, but I did not have the time to do the reconnaissance I would like.”

  We watched and waited.

  And waited.

  The rain started to fall, and the clouds blotted out the sun. The castle glowed as torches and fires were lit inside. It made the place appear oddly comfy.

  “Follow,” Nikolai said. “Crouch down. Be stealthy.”

  As I opened my mouth, he held up a finger.

  My jaw snapped shut.

  He crouched-walked from tree to tree. I did as he did. Trying to put my feet where he put his and doing my best to match him. Still, I managed to make a lot more noise than him. It was frustrating to step in the same exact spot, but somehow snap a fucking twig. A damn twig I swear wasn’t fucking there.

  The rain saved me, its noise doing a stellar job covering up my mistakes. It soaked me through to the skin, and I could see my breath steaming out, but I didn’t feel the cold that much.

  The ground around the castle had been cleared a long time ago, but in the intervening years the trees and shrubs made a comeback, and there was just a bit of cover to sneak under.

  Nikolai straight up belly-crawled to the wall.

  I, too, crawled. Which brought about a number of issues. First, the chainmail picked up every bit of vegetation I slithered over. Second, the battle axe dug into my thighs, to the point where I thought I was going to wind up hamstringing myself before I got to the wall.

  The stones of the wall were rough, old, and not well hewn. Clearly something that had been done by hand, though. They were stuck together with crumbling mortar — it really seemed like the right poke would topple the whole thing. I wondered if climbing was going to be a good option. Or a bad option. Good, easy handholds. Bad, the stones might just come out as soon as you put weight on them.

  Nikolai looked up, then along the wall. He pointed to me, then pointed up. He pointed to himself, and then along the wall. Towards the mountainside.

  I nodded.

  “Do not wait for me,” Nikolai whispered. “We do not know where they are keeping their victims. You must attack when you have the opportunity.”

  He didn’t wait for any sort of affirmation from me. He just turned and slinked off along the wall.

  Chapter 38

  I tested the rocks in the wall, and they held my weight. More shifting than I wanted, but they didn’t fall out of the fucking wall. It was a unique sort of feeling, hoisting myself off the ground without any trouble. In my previous world, I’d rarely been able to do even a single pull-up, and here, I went up with just my arms. Like it was nothing.

  At the battlements, I held off for a moment, just hanging on the wall letting the rain pour down over me, trying to listen to the world. Then I peeked over.

  Nothing.

  I pulled over and made an awkward tumble to the rampart. There might have been a bit of clanging and banging as my battleaxe hit the stonework.

  I froze.

  No movement anywhere I could see.

  Ahead of me was the keep. A door led onto the ramparts. Windows along the side of the building showed there was, at least, light on the inside. So someone was in the building.

  I edged along the walkway, shuffling my feet and doing my best to keep my silhouette low and my noise to a minimum. I peeked down at the courtyard, and while it was currently devoid of people, that could change at any minute. I saw several wagons in states of disrepair, looking like they were being taken apart, the wood being repurposed for other things. Like burning. An offal pit sat in the corner, illuminated by a small oil lantern hanging over a workbench nearby. It was disgusting, and I imagined the stench would be nigh-on overpowering were the rain not so heavy. Plenty of tables were down there as well, and it looked like someone had been using them to sort goods they’d taken out of the wagons. Everything indicated a bandit base. And everything indicated all the bandits were currently hiding in the keep, getting out of the rain.

  Which left me with the question of strategy and tactics. There was no sign of Nikolai, and he’d done impressively little in sharing his plan of attack. Night wasn’t far off, and we were quite a ways from Saumiers. There wasn’t going to be anyone running in to save the day if Nikolai and I bit off more than we could chew. All that made me think the best plan would be to hit hard and fast. Shock and awe.

  Still, I didn’t want to just kick down a door and hope I’d overcome whatever was inside. I needed a little more intel — going in blind could definitely be a death sentence.

  I climbed laterally along the wall until I could see in the window. A few minor problems: the bricks making up the keep were a little smaller and less grippy than those of the wall. In order to give me a enough of an advantage, grip wise, I took my boots off. There had been a ton of rain, and it was tough just getting my footholds secure. And, you know, the giant battleaxe on my back just gave me a mild imbalance issue.

  Slowly, carefully, I moved across the wall until I was right next to a window. I leaned over just a teensy little bit, just to where my left eye was looking into the keep. The window was hazy — probably hadn’t been cleaned in some time — and the glass had a distinct wave to it, making everything inside distorted. The scene wasn’t bad, almost homey. A large crackling fire filled the fireplace, and candles had been placed around the room. A long table held a huge roasted carcass of some animal, steam coming out of the various spots where meat had been cut. A number of figures sat around the table, eating, drinking, and laughing.

  After a few more moves, I was in front of the door, and back to thinking. Obviously, as Nikolai was so happy to point out, not my strong suit.

  I ran through a couple of tactics, including standing on the lintel above the door and then waiting for someone to come out, but decided my best bet was a s
urprise entrance and a flurry of blows. I’d do my best to whittle down their numerical advantage, and hope Nikolai would hear and come up the stairs from the inside.

  Pulling the axe off my back, I spun the haft in my hands, and tested my grip now that it was wet. Not bad. A few swings, and I knew I could hold the weapon. No problems. I shook out my arms, did a bit of light jumping up and down, getting the nerves out and muscles ready. Preparing to dole out death, hoping these were actually bad guys and I wasn’t just being used.

  Chapter 39

  I leaned back, got my foot up, and Sparta-kicked the door as hard as I could.

  The wood splintered, and the door slammed inward, tilting as the top hinge popped off, which cantilevered the door hard enough the bottom hinge popped off. The thick wooden door dropped to the ground with a resounding thud.

  Eight heads and sixteen, correction, fifteen, eyes snapped in my direction.

  Lightening crackled behind, and thunder crashed as it seemed even the gods themselves were setting me up for one hell of an entrance.

  I gave a roar, and threw my axe at the figure sitting at the head of the table.

  The axe spun across the room, and slammed into, and partially through his torso. A font of blood erupted from the ruined man, enough that it caused a few cries of disgust. And maybe fear.

  I had the sword out, and covered the distance from the door to the table in a heartbeat. I swung wildly, trying to get as much damage done as quickly as possible. I needed people out of commission before I got my ass handed to me by sheer numbers.

  A short stocky fellow with a big bushy beard pushed his chair back, fumbling with something on the floor.

  I kicked the chair, which flung the man’s head against the table with a thunk. Then I jammed my sword straight down into him, through his body, and into the chair.

  The blade stuck. I struggled to pull it back, trying to get it free, but whatever reverie had kept the others from leaping to their feet ended with me flailing with a fucking chair.

  The other six in the room scrambled to their feet and grabbed for weapons.

  I ducked a mace that whizzed right past my head. With no other options, I just picked up the entire chair. And dwarf.

  You’ve picked up a DWARF-CHAIR.

  Dwarf-Chair

  Item Type: Improvised-Rare

  Item Class: Two-handed Melee

  Material: Wood/Dwarf

  Damage: 30-45 (Bludgeoning), 3-4 (Sonic)

  Durability: 7/11

  Weight: 188 lbs

  Requirements: Str 24

  Description: A dwarf attached to a wooden chair, unable to escape.

  Not bad damage.

  The mace-wielder had left himself open after his wild swing, so I took advantage. The dwarf screamed with pain as I brought the chair down with all my strength. It crashed into mace-man, whose body seemed to double over for a moment before something inside snapped and he folded further. The extra weight of the dwarf definitely assisted in the kill of his former colleague.

  I let my chair-dwarf drop, hooked my foot under the mace, and kicked it up. I snatched the handle out of the air, and managed to get the mace around just in time to block an axe blow from the left, while sucking my butt in to miss a sword jab from the right.

  A power step and a ducked shoulder, and the slinky swords-elf went tumbling over his chair.

  I couldn’t finish the elf off because the human next to me, the woman with the axe, had trapped my mace haft with the hook of her axehead. She gave a wicked smile, then pulled hard, trying to disarm me.

  But high strength is a motherfucker. I just pulled back, and she stumbled into me. I head butted the girl, feeling her nose crunch disgustingly against my forehead. I smiled — I finally used my head for something. Maybe just a bludgeoning tool, but that’s something.

  She dropped her axe and wavered on her feet, struggling to stay conscious.

  I felt a burning in my stomach, and looked down to see a crossbow bolt sticking out of my midsection. I followed where it’d come from and saw a grinning asshole reloading his crossbow.

  Having to use the mace to block an incoming sword thrust from the recovered elf, I picked up and flung the axe towards the crossbow-man. I had less practice left handed, so it didn’t hit axehead first, but the weapon tangled him up, and caused his loading to falter.

  A quick bit of parrying with the mace, and I got the elf where I wanted. I heard the twang of the bow, and pulled the elf towards me, hoping to use the asshole as a shield. But I fucking got shot again.

  I let out a bellow, grabbed on with two hands, and swung the mace as hard as I could, letting my rage pour through the weapon. The elf attempted a block, but it was too weak. I hit his blade with enough force to snap it back and slice deep into his face. It didn’t look like a mortal blow, but the wound disoriented him enough that I got another swing all the way around, and slammed the ball of the mace into the man’s skull, which kind of exploded like an overripe melon.

  Seeing how the mace was embedded, I left it, and snatched the elf’s sword instead.

  A poor-level longsword.

  For the moment, there was stillness as everyone tried to comprehend the situation. Myself included.

  They were down four and a half, since the girl with the broken nose hadn’t gotten to her feet yet.

  At the far end of the room, there was the asshole with the crossbow pulling hard to get it loaded. He was smaller, lithe, and had a very unpleasant face. Anther two bandits were coming on either side of me. One a man with a bushy mustache and two daggers, the other bald, with a sword. There was a conspicuous lack of armor, which, in my opinion at least, was one of the main reasons I’d been able to hold my own so well.

  I snuck a look behind me, and saw a minefield of trip hazards. Dead bodies, broken furniture, and dinner detritus.

  A quick step to the right, and I snapped the blade out at Baldy.

  He parried, the sharp clang of metal on metal reverberating around the room.

  Stone walls and sharp noises weren’t exactly peaceful combos.

  I wondered why they weren’t rushing at me. It started to occur to me that they could be stalling.

  Mustache came at my side, but with a bit of a twist, I made sure his daggers missed. I tried to get my sword in, but it was too long. I was operating without enough space.

  Then I realized their gambit. Mustache dropped his weapons and grabbed my arms just as Baldy lunged in my direction.

  I had no option but to trust the too-tight chain mail.

  The sword point hit with force, enough that I felt it, but the mail held. Mostly. A few rings popped off, and the blade sunk into my gambeson just a bit, but the final point barely scratched my flesh.

  I knew crossbow asshole was going to be shooting in a heartbeat, now that I was theoretically immobilized. But, a little martial arts went a long way, and just as the crossbow twanged, I flipped Mustache over my shoulder.

  This time it worked. Mustache caught the bolt in his back right before I slammed him into the stone floor, which caused the crossbow to pop all the way out the front, along with a disgusting spray of his last supper.

  Baldy took another lunge at me, clearly aiming for the same spot in my midsection. But I wasn’t held back this time, so I grabbed his arm and yanked him off balance, twisting my torso to push him to the ground before I stabbed in through his neck with my longsword.

  He gurgled as I stepped over him.

  Crossbow frantically tried to load his weapon, but as I walked in his direction, he fumbled more and more until he finally dropped the crossbow. He pulled out a single dagger, holding it in his hand, shaking.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Avon calling?”

  He didn’t get the joke.

  I snapped my blade up and whacked the dagger out of his hand. It clattered into the wreckage off to my left.

  He stood there. Quaking.

  I had him dead to rights. I cou
ld stab him, filet him, flay him, do whatever. But for some reason, it seemed wrong. So I lowered my sword and gestured at the door to the ramparts.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind,” I said.

  He took off, and I started towards the the stairs leading down.

  I got, maybe, two strides before there was a terrible pain in my back. I did my best to spin and look around, only to see Crossbow staring at me with his nasty face and yellowed teeth. He was hanging on my fucking back!

  I grabbed him by his leg and ripped him off me, swinging him around. He screamed as he arced through the air until he crashed against the mantle over the fire, a sharp crack as his ear managed to touch his elbow for a moment.

  Then it was quiet, save the crackling of the fire.

  I hurt.

  Not horribly. A quick check of the HP, and I saw that I had a ‘bleeding’ debuff, and my health had slowly dropped, but it was still well above half. The bolts came out pretty simply, but the dagger was a bigger problem. I couldn’t quite reach it.

  After some finagling, I managed to hook the hand guard of the dagger into the decorative curl of a wall sconce and then just dropped to the ground. There was a sucking noise, and then, *pop.* Out came the dagger.

  I looked over the disaster of the room, and through it pained me to do so, I slid a sword through the back of the unconscious woman’s neck. I didn’t want to chance her coming to and killing Nikolai whenever he showed up. Or, you know, sneaking along behind me and stabbing me in the fucking back. Lesson learned. Thank you, Crossbow Asshole.

  Another lesson learned — I went through the notifications very quickly, dismissing all the death ones, feeling a little less than great about it all. Granted, according to the game, or the wolds or the gods, whatever, these were all bandits. Bandits who had an evil alignment. So I’d maybe done some good in the world.

  My initial impulse was to loot. But, looking around, the bodies in the room didn’t seem like they’d account for the entirety of the castle. A quick count of the plates got to 10. I had 8 bodies. At least two missing.