by M Helbig
“Sure, anything,” I said.
She pointed at the flaming Moe. “Loot. He mentioned a banjo.”
Horus has looted Moe.
You have received 3 gold as your share of the loot (out of 9 gold).
As group leader, Horus has been granted the loot: Old banjo, Oct Aboro Guide’s Goggles.
Alizia squealed and probably said something about the banjo. Olaf responded too. I didn’t hear any of it. I was too focused on the goggles.
Item: Oct Aboro Guide’s Goggles
Restrictions: Level 9 Required
Slot: Head
Rarity: Uncommon
AC: 8
Stat Bonus: +2 DEX +4 AGI +2 END
Special Abilities: Night Vision
Weight: 5 Pebbles
Description: Oct aboro guides are famed for their ability to effortlessly navigate through the mountain passes of their homeland, even in the most powerful of snowstorms. Most say it’s through their innate resistance to cold and tireless stamina, though these goggles certainly don’t hurt.
“Horus. Horus!” Alizia shook me back into reality. “Tell Olaf he can’t roll on the banjo. He can’t even use it.”
Olaf climbed to his feet, having been knocked over along with the rest of the tiny people in my hand. “While I do feel sorry for your death, I would like to point out that neither can you.”
The Voice cleared his throat and the room shook. “Participants who stay in rooms for more than five minutes after their match is complete may experience adverse reactions such as nausea, vomiting, electrocution, and constipation. If you or a loved one experience these symptoms, please consult the next room.”
Alizia steadied herself and then stuck a finger bigger than Olaf’s entire body into him. “Can too—or I will be able to once I switch to Bard and learn the banjo skill.”
“There is no Bard class nor does that skill exist. Even if they did, you don’t have them. As you pointed out earlier, the group charter clearly states that anyone can roll on it if they have a use for it.” Olaf tried unsuccessfully to push her giant finger away.
“But I will have those one day. Why won’t you just let me have it?” Alizia knocked him over with her finger.
I knew it was a terrible idea to give it to her, but my guilt overcame me. “Why don’t we let her have it just this once?”
Olaf shook his tiny fist at her. “No, for the future sanity of the group, we cannot. We put a ‘no singing’ clause in the charter for that very reason.”
“Horus, I’ll totally forgive you for stepping on me if you let me have it.” She gave me her sweetest smile.
Olaf stepped in front of her. “I offer a compromise. What if I keep it for now? I’ll promise not to sell it and agree to give it to you if you become a Bard or get a skill that can use the banjo.”
Alizia gave me a lopsided frown. “Hmm, it will give me that extra push I need to figure out how to become a Bard officially. Might even force me to do the unthinkable: research. I accept on the condition that you all have to listen to me play it after I get it.”
Olaf nodded. “Agreed.”
I handed the banjo to Olaf and it shrank down to fit in his hands.
“Now about the goggles,” I said. “You and I both have good helmets, so I think Olaf should get it.”
Alizia waved me off. “Congrats or whatever.”
Olaf strummed the banjo and grinned at me. “Thank you.”
Alizia playfully rubbed Olaf’s head with her finger. It seemed Alizia was at least back to normal, but I wasn’t sure I ever would be. Having doubts made me falter and hesitate at the worst possible times. Having no doubts caused me to miss important details and hurt my friends. Who was I supposed to be?
How Not to Win at Jousting
The next room was roughly the same width, though much longer. I couldn’t tell exactly how long, as a black curtain separated us from the rest of the space. The walls were made from the same stone as the previous room’s, with the exception of the dirt floor. The ceiling was once again obscured by darkness. I wasn’t sure if it was just too high up to see or if there was some sort of spell concealing it. I tried using the telescopic sight from my hat, but it made no difference. Olaf’s new goggles returned the same result. In the center of the room, extending into the distance, there was a wooden fence that came up to my chin.
“So, what we got here? Rodeo, or we have to hop this here fence and get our lost ball from the mean dog next door?” Alizia gave the fence an experimental shake and it barely moved. “If it’s the former, I call rodeo clown. If it’s the latter, not it.”
The Voice cleared its throat again. “Harkening back to the days when our elven kin were not as focused on looks, and we lived on the surface in harmony with them, our favorite pastime was the joust—a sport that is still beloved by many dirt elves of the noble class. It would likely be our top sport, if not for the prohibitive cost of building long rooms to host such matches and the difficulty in maintaining the health of the traditional mounts for the activity in a subterranean setting.”
A horse appeared in a puff of smoke next to us, along with three lances on the wall next to it. The elaborately decorated saddle, bridle, and barding were a stark contrast to the bony, forlorn mount underneath. I put one hand behind its neck to pet it, and it began to shake.
“So, you’re saying we have to win a jousting match to proceed?” I yelled at the ceiling.
“Winning isn’t everything,” the Voice said.
“Are you saying we need to do something besides win or that we do need to win?” I asked.
“Dirt elf jousting matches, unlike those favored by the surface elves, are by single fall,” the Voice said. “Once one opponent hits the ground, the match is over.”
“Good God,” Alizia said. “This guy’s just like my ex-boyfriend. Every answer’s a new question. Hey, Ominous Voice Guy, what’s two plus two?”
“The number two, along with all modern numbers besides zero, is said to have been invented by the dwelgin, the race from which the modern dwarf, gnome, and elf are said to descend from.”
“If a tree falls on a dwelgin and kills him with nobody else around, does he make a sound?”
“The dwelgin language has been lost to time.”
I reached up and covered Alizia’s mouth.
“So, we just have to knock our opponent off his mount, then?” I asked.
“It is considered a forfeit if a jouster does not climb on his mount within five minutes of entering the field of play.”
Alizia put both hands on the horse’s back and raised her leg to begin mounting. Her big smile told me she’d mostly forgiven me, and with doubts creeping back into my head, it was definitely in our best interest to let her handle this challenge. However, as she sat down the emaciated horse began to sag. With the greatest reluctance, I pulled her back right before its legs buckled. “Sorry, Alizia, but I’m going to have to do this one. You’re too heavy.”
Alizia turned around and stared at me in exaggerated horror. “I’m a size zero, and you’re what, a size ten?” She pinched my belly.
While I wasn’t sure exactly what my avatar weighed, since the only weight info on my character sheet was for my equipment and what I was carrying, with our over one-foot height difference, I was pretty sure I weighed quite a bit less than her. I could feel the tingle of her using Inspect on me.
“That is a very bad idea, Horus,” Alizia said. “Very bad indeed. This should definitely go to the person who has the Riding skill, a skill you just so happen to not have learned.”
“That is actually a good point,” Olaf said.
I reluctantly acquiesced. Even one point in Riding would make a huge difference. I wondered how high she was now, so I used Inspect on her.
“Hey, you don’t have Riding either!” I said.
Alizia giggled and backed away. “I guess it’s up to you, Mr. Bossy Man.”
“You know I have the Riding skill,” a beaverkin pawn said. “It’s max
ed out too.”
Alizia put her hand over mine to cover up the tiny people. “Quiet in there. When we’re in your story, you can be the hero, but this here is for the three people in our group.”
I ducked my hand under hers and pulled it back up to talk to the pawn. “You’ll have to forgive my friend; she’s ‘special’ and I’ve no idea what story she’s talking about. We’d be happy to let you help us.” I turned to Alizia as I set him down in the saddle. “I’m not about to turn away help if it gives us a better chance to win. Besides, if we lose they’re probably going to die just like we are.”
“Not true.” She picked up a lance from the wall and handed it to me. “They’ll probably die faster and with much squeakier screams.”
The tiny beaverkin put one paw on the reins but didn’t manage to budge them. When I tried to hand him the lance, it did not shrink down to his size. It was obvious that this wouldn’t work. After several minutes of arguing, it was decided that I’d be the one to ride with the beaverkin tucked in my belt to give me instructions while Alizia held the other tiny people.
After falling off once and failing at a few attempts to get the horse moving, I managed to get it to a slow trot. The curtain disappeared a few seconds later, and I could finally see my opponent. It was the orc who’d tried to ambush us before. The pixie, Marknafian, floated behind him, angrily shouting instructions. The centaur was nowhere to be seen.
“Look, Marknaf. It our friends from before time.” The orc waved at us, almost falling from his saddle.
“Shut up, ya mo-ron,” the pixie said. “They’re not our friends; they’re our mortal enemies. Why do you think we spent all that time trying to ambush them?”
The orc scratched his bald head. “Thought we was playing tag. Bonding experiences and team building for all. Make closer together. Brought marshmallow for s’mores and singalong later.”
The pixie’s cigar rolled from his mouth as he fluttered forward to push the orc before he slid off his mount. Despite being at least a fiftieth of the hulking orc’s size, the pixie easily managed the feat.
“The Lord’s testin’ my faith by making you the one who survived the last challenge,” the pixie said. “Now knock that goofy hair off that sissy over yonder, so we can get out of here.”
Dumbus swung his lance into position and pulled on the reins. “For the s’mores!”
“Quickly,” the beaverkin squeaked, “do the same before he gets the momentum.”
I fumbled the reins but recovered and gave them a hard tug. For once, my nerves seemed justified, though oddly I was scared so witless I didn’t notice them. I jostled about a bit at first but soon enough had my mount moving at roughly the same speed as the orc’s. It took all my effort to keep myself on while balancing the lance in one arm. The beaverkin shouted constant instructions, and I did my best to follow. As the orc raced closer and closer, I had to fight the urge to close my eyes with everything I had. Why hadn’t I remembered to check for a helmet before I got on? Win or lose, this was going to hurt.
“I got a hundred on the floor,” Alizia said.
Jerk. Here I am staring death in the eye to save her life and she’s making fun of me—though I guess I do owe it to her. Crap, it’s coming straight for my face. My healing spell better be able to grow back teeth.
“I’ll take that bet. My money’s on the ceiling,” the pixie said.
“If Dumbus survive, he put you in ceiling,” the orc cried as both our lances inched closer and closer to our faces.
Several yawns came from the unseen crowd.
“This intermission brought to you by Dowgus Sleep Aids,” the Voice said. “When counting lurcuses isn’t enough, try Dowgus Sleep Aids.”
It took all my effort to keep my eyes open, but it was worth it, as my lance smacked right into his chin. Unfortunately, his aim was just as good. “Ahh,” I said.
“Ahh,” the orc cried.
“Uggh,” Alizia said.
Miraculously, I managed to stay on my mount. Against all odds, so did the orc. As we shook off the shock, our mounts automatically trotted us back to opposite ends. Alizia rushed to the center and picked up my lance while the pixie did the same for his companion.
I wiped the sweat off my brow. “Did you see that? I didn’t think I’d even be able to keep on this bouncing thing, and I managed to hit the orc perfect. He must be made of steel, though.”
Alizia handed me the lance. “Uhh, you certainly did. Now, this time I want you to try to hit him harder than an emaciated toddler with pneumonia.”
“What’re you talking about?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She slapped my horse and it lumbered forward. “Go get ’em.”
The orc lurched forward too.
“Keep your weight focused in the center,” the tiny beaverkin said. “And hold the lance tight to your body, but not too tight.”
I followed his advice and focused on my target. The orc had a similar determined look on his face. This time, right as we got near lance range, our mounts stopped. I tried to reach forward to hit the orc, but he was still too far away. Dumbus did the same.
“Give him a little kick,” the beaverkin said.
Alizia rushed forward and tried to push, but my horse wouldn’t budge. The pixie did the same with no luck.
“If after thirty minutes a joust is not decided, a draw is called,” the Voice said. “In dirt elf arenas, draws are considered losses for both sides.”
“What happens when we lose?” Alizia asked.
“We die.” Marknafian began poking his horse with a knife. “Go, ya useless sack.”
Alizia dug in and pushed with all her might. “No fair. These are defective. Did anyone fill out the warranty card?”
The beaverkin hopped out of my belt, ran up the horse’s neck, and whispered in its ear. The horse’s head perked up for a second but then drooped. The beaverkin barely managed to hold on as the horse began snoring. The only bright side was that the orc’s horse was no better.
Marknafian switched from a knife to a gun. The horse didn’t even respond. Peculiarly, no damage numbers floated up. “Is this thing undead?”
“If we can’t get them moving, we need to come up with another plan,” I said.
“I got one.” Alizia grabbed my lance and got ready to charge.
“At the great tournament of Plop, a particularly wily jouster had his squire place a thin bit of wire across one side of the field,” the Voice said. “When the ruse was discovered after his third victory, his wins were forfeited, all his possessions were confiscated, and both he and his squire were executed. From that time forward, all forms of cheating were punished with the same severity.”
“Stop, Alizia,” I said. “I think what he’s trying to say is that if neither I nor Dumbus knock the other off our horses, it’s considered cheating.”
“So?” she said.
“That would mean we all die,” Olaf said from within her belt.
Marknafian gave up pushing his horse and began panting. “Since you fellas picked the goody, goody Sun Alliance, you should just jump off your horsy so one of us can live. Ya know, to fit within the story narrative or some stupid crap.”
“But then they be dead, Marknaf,” Dumbus said.
“As noble as it would be for us to sacrifice ourselves so you could live, we can’t,” I said. “We need to get to the boss of this dungeon because there’s a player with him who has answers about our friend’s missing son. And this player isn’t likely to stay there much longer.”
The pixie coughed out a laugh. “Ridiculous. Even Dumbus could’ve made a better story than that.”
Dumbus scrunched up his face. “Dumbus would do anything for own daughter. Risk too great to not believe them.”
“Not true. There’s no risk for us,” Marknafian said. “Ridiculous. Now no more talking. Please die.”
“But we was just getting to know thems. Dumbus want share stories with new bestest companions. Exchange friendship bracelet. Make secret han
dshake. Much bonding and merriment.”
Alizia waved the lance at the pixie. “He makes some valid points. You should make him your leader.”
The pixie pulled out another cigar and lit it. “Not likely, Jolly Green Strumpet.”
“Whatever, Private Tinkerballs.”
“I’ll give ya a Tinkerball right here.” I don’t think I need to tell you where he pointed.
“If you had anything there, I’d be worried, you lecherous leprechaun.” Alizia wiggled her butt at him.
“Wouldn’t need a pot of gold to buy something cheap like you.” He fluttered his wings and took off toward her, but Dumbus pulled him back.
“This do no good,” Dumbus said. “Must work together. Fight good fight. Develop teamwork. Have impromptu musical numbers. Victory had shortly after. Heavy drinking at afterparty.”
Alizia stopped shaking her butt and turned to me. “There’s a lot you could learn from that guy about inspirational speeches.”
I pointed at Dumbus’s snoring horse. “No matter what you may want, unless I voluntarily jump off my mount or Alizia attacks you, you’re not going to win. And since you’re probably also not going to do either of those things, we need to find another way.”
Marknafian gnashed his teeth so hard I thought they might shoot sparks. “Fine.”
I looked around the room. “Has anyone seen anything suspicious about this place? Hidden doors? Vents we could crawl out of? Maybe where the spectators or that announcer might be hiding?”
Dumbus scratched his head. “Room look uniform. Enter door merge with wall. Exit no see. Many fire code violated.”
“Let us down,” Olaf said in group chat. “Maybe there’s something we can see that you big people can’t.”
Alizia set Olaf and the other tiny people down, and nearly knocked me from my mount with the lance. The lance!
“The dirt elves teleported the lances and the horses in,” I said. “Maybe that means there’s some gaps in whatever magics they have on this room.”