Troll Nation

by James A. Hunter

  But the absolute disbelief and devastation on Roark’s face when he saw that little girl taken by this Tyrant King... Randy wasn’t great with people, but even he could tell the Griefer wasn’t acting. Anyway, who would go to all the trouble to fake evidence of a whole other world just so they could pretend not to have known about half of it? Randy thought he could probably have dismissed this whole thing as a lie if not for that.

  Another dimension... And why not? If technology had advanced sufficiently for Frontflip to create a pocket dimension called Hearthworld where strings of code lived and humans visited, then there was no logical argument against the existence of a whole other dimension. It did beg the question of who or what had created it, though. What if Earth was the video game of some whole other hyperintelligent society and humans were just the NPCs populating it and sending those otherworldly players on quests?

  That was a disconcerting thought. Randy grabbed his head and tried to blink away a sudden wave of vertigo.

  “...and the only way they’ll agree to it is if I bring them Bad_Karma’s head,” Roark’s voice filtered through Randy’s momentary existential crisis.

  “Dicks,” PwnrBwner said.

  Roark shrugged. “It’s strategically smart. If I can’t kill him, then they’ll know I’m not strong enough to lead them and that they can afford to ignore me. If I can kill him, then he’ll be out of their hair and they’ll have my word that I won’t come for them next.”

  “Wait,” Randy said. “Did you just say you were supposed to kill Bad_Karma? Highest-level player on the server, sixteen hundred hours Hardcore Mode Bad_Karma?”

  “What the hell, Randy, were you not listening to any of the last ten minutes?” PwnrBwner said. “Roark has a quest to kill Karma. If he does, the other dungeon bosses will help him fight this Lowen asshole. Then he can go back to his home world and kill the Tyrant King.”

  “But”—Randy checked Roark’s stats—“you’re only a level 36 Troll. I know you’ve killed players double and triple your level before, but you can’t kill Bad_Karma. He’d massacre you.”

  The Griefer smirked. “He did. You lot caught me just out of the respawn.”

  “What are you going to do?” Randy said. “You can’t finish the quest.”

  “That’s what I told him.” PwnrBwner turned back to Roark and started ticking items off on his fingers. “Karma’s got unique class spells and perks and special abilities out the ass. Plus, people will do anything for him. He founded my guild. He’s got about a billion seed followers streaming his every move. He’s so fucking popular that his brother’s popular just because they’re related. I escorted that little dickface through a dungeon, and twelve thousand new accounts followed me. That’s how popular BK is, and it’s all because he’s a badass. You’ll never kill him in a fair fight.” PwnrBwner snorted. “Hell, you’ll never kill him in a rigged fight. You’re massively screwed, dude.”

  “I don’t intend to fight him, not truly,” Roark said. “That was my mistake the first time around.”

  “This place isn’t like IRL,” PwnrBwner said. “You’re not just gonna sneak up on this guy while he’s asleep and take him out. That’s not how it works in games.”

  “There are lots of ways to take someone off guard. Maybe I can’t beat him as a hero would, but I’m not a hero. I’m a Dungeon Lord, and that is my true strength.” Roark glanced around at the small room, his eyes burning with a plan. “If I can get him to fight on my territory, I might have an idea about how to win.” Roark looked dead into Randy’s eyes. “But I will need your help to do it.”

  Randy blinked. “I’m sorry, for a second it looked like you were talking to me.”

  “That badge you showed me. It means you’re one of the authorities of Hearthworld, correct?”

  “I mean...”

  “You can follow someone for days without being seen, open portals barehanded, and you have access to special items too powerful or dangerous for this world.”

  “But I can’t use those to run around killing players. I mean, I could, but I would lose my job.”

  As he said it, Randy realized the utter ridiculousness of that line of protest. He was going to lose his job either way. No way was he going to be able to explain any of this to the board. What would he say? An interdimensional being asked him to help kill the most powerful and popular player on the server so he could unite the Infernal Dungeon Lords against a whole dungeon of interdimensional invaders? Silva wouldn’t just fire him, he would have Randy’s Hearthworld account deleted, blacklist him throughout the rest of the tech community, and probably have him put in the loony bin while he was at it.

  On the other hand, if he kept his mouth shut and went back to the board without any answers or solutions, he’d definitely still get fired, but he might get to keep his Hearthworld account.

  It came down to whether he would rather be fired for doing nothing or for helping someone stop a murdering tyrant. After the speech he’d given to Scott—something so unlike him it was almost hard to comprehend—Randy knew the answer without a shadow of a doubt. He was scared, but after witnessing the carnage Roark had showed them, who wouldn’t be? At the same time, Randy also felt good. This was it. This was the moment his life had been building toward. Randy wasn’t the type of person to believe in destiny, but if there was real magic, then why not?

  He was done living his life as a pushover. Done living as a coward and a doormat for other people. So what if he got fired? So what if he lost his account and had to start from scratch? If Roark could get hurled through an interdimensional portal, wind up as a level 1 Troll in a world he didn’t understand, and still fight on, then what excuse could Randy possibly come up with?

  “Whatever we do, it’ll have to be fast,” Randy said. “I’ll only have my Admin privileges for two more days. But I’m in. All in. I’ll even kill Bad_Karma for you, if you want.”

  “Reel it back in a little, tiger.” PwnrBwner snorted. “You sound like you’re trying to join a cult.”

  Randy felt his face and ears heating up, but he stood up taller and ignored the High Combat Cleric. He’d meant what he said, and he was going to stand behind it. He was a hero now. That was the kind of thing heroes did.

  Luckily, the Griefer seemed to be ignoring PwnrBwner’s snide remarks, too.

  “It has to be me,” Roark said. “And I have to do it alone or the other Dungeon Lords will never respect me enough to follow. What I need from you is crucial, though—information. Never underestimate the power of proper foresight.” The Griefer rubbed his hands together, clearly eager to begin. “Now time is running out, and there’s a lot to do, so it’s best if we get to work.”

  Moving Pieces

  THE HANDINESS OF PORTAL travel made itself evident when rather than having to make the trek from the strange containment cell back to the citadel, Randy just reopened the shimmering violet tear in space and the three of them stepped through into the Keep’s throne room.

  The troubling revelations provided by the Ennus-Merkki ritual still weighed heavy on Roark’s mind—namely that his sister could possibly be alive—but he pushed those from his mind. He was letting his shock affect his judgment. The vision, whether it was true or false, didn’t change anything. He still couldn’t get back to Traisbin, and even if he could, he would never get close enough to Marek to kill him without taking out Lowen first.

  And to do that, he first needed to kill Bad_Karma. Which meant he needed unwavering focus.

  “Where has Roark been?” Kaz bellowed, ecstatic. “The griefing Trolls from the Keep said evil heroes abducted him.”

  From behind Roark, PwnrBwner_OG snapped, “Hey, get the fuck off!”

  Inky black smoke was still curling upward when Roark turned. Zyra had one of her cursed longknives to the High Combat Cleric’s throat and the other to his groin.

  “What is this hero scum doing in our Keep?” the hooded Reaver hissed, her words as cold as the holding cells in the Chillend prison.

 
; “Saving your shit,” PwnrBwner said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “He’s on our side now,” Roark said. “So is the Herald.”

  “What Herald?”

  At her side, Randy dropped his invisibility. Zyra backed up a step, dragging PwnrBwner with her to put the High Combat Cleric between her and the silver-winged Herald. Startled, Kaz drew his Legendary Meat Tenderizer and crept forward in a defensive stance.

  Before blood could be spilled and his secret weapons sent for respawn, Roark said, “Put him down, Zyra. They’re working with us. As asinine as it sounds, I swear it’s true.”

  Slowly, warily, the Knight Thursr and the Reaver lowered their weapons.

  “You have ten seconds to explain,” Zyra growled. “Then I’m sending them both for respawn.”

  “You can try,” PwnrBwner sneered.

  “We need them to kill Bad_Karma,” Roark said, stalking to the Dungeon Lord’s throne. “And however unlikely it may seem, after a long and difficult discussion, these two have come around to our cause against Lowen and the Vault of the Radiant Shield. You’ll just have to trust me on this one. Now, where’s Griff?”

  “In Averi City, digging for information on who might have you,” Zyra said.

  Roark sat and used the Dungeon Lord’s Grimoire to send off a message to Griff letting him know he was back and to meet him in the Blacksmith shop.

  With that done, he checked the disbursement of building points for the Troll Nation. It would take some serious work, and he would have to temporarily strip down most of the second floor, shifting the natives to the third floor, but yes, he could do it. Closing off the level so that Bad_Karma wouldn’t be able to get free would be a challenge, but he could manage it with the portal plates, which the dungeon counted as access points. It would take some work and a significant amount of time in the smithy, however.

  He hopped off the throne and headed for the Blacksmith’s shop.

  Zyra jogged to catch up with him. “Where are you going?”

  “To prepare for Bad_Karma,” he said. “I made a mistake last time by confronting him. I acted like a hero, relying on my own raw physical strength and the might of my combat magic. But in all of those arenas, Karma has proven to be my superior.” He laughed. “I don’t know what sort of brain damage I must have sustained to try to take him on in a fair fight. I can’t beat him in a stadium filled with spectators, but I can most certainly defeat him inside the walls of my dungeon, where I have every underhanded trick and advantage I can lay my hands on.”

  “You mean the plan is to cheat,” PwnrBwner said.

  “Yes,” Roark said. “Obviously.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, gaze falling on the Herald—Randy, his name was—who was keeping pace with him. “Do your Admin abilities allow you to see a hero’s active and passive abilities as well as what enchantments a hero has on their items and the items in their Inventory?”

  “Ad-min?” Zyra repeated, puzzled.

  “He’s a type of enforcer working for the Hearthworld gods,” Roark explained, eyes still fixed on Randy, waiting for an answer.

  Randy blinked. “Uh... yeah, um, from in-game, I can see what enchantments are on a player’s gear, but only if I have a visual lock on him. To do it remotely, I would need to be at a terminal.”

  “How long does it take you to get to one of these terminals?” Roark asked.

  “About ten minutes out and back in.” Randy pointed over his shoulder as if alluding to one of these mysterious places. “Do you want me to...?”

  “Yes,” Roark said with a nod. “I’ll need to know every natural ability he might be able to pull on as well as every potential enchantment he’ll have access to. I want a comprehensive list, understand?”

  “How will knowing his abilities and enchantments help?” Zyra asked.

  PwnrBwner snorted. “Is that a serious question?” He hooked a thumb at Roark. “This asshole TPKed me and my friends with a frikkin’ dungeon boss last week. I don’t know what he’s got planned, but if you don’t think he can swing it, you haven’t been watching long enough. Not that I’m complimenting you,” he finished, shooting a glare at Roark.

  Zyra’s hood swiveled toward the mouthy hero. Roark couldn’t see her icy glare, but he could feel the temperature in the room drop.

  “It’s my job to point out when he does something insane,” she told PwnrBwner. “It’s his job to make his idiocy work in spite of my skepticism.”

  Randy shook his head. “They’re engaging in peer review? This is incredible.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?” Zyra’s voice dripped venom.

  “Right. Sorry.” Randy stepped back. “I’ll be right back.”

  He looked up as though praying to his devs, then disappeared.

  Zyra pointed her longknife at where he’d been. “For the record, I don’t like any of this.”

  PwnrBwner snorted. “Whoop-ti-do. We’re not hyped out of our socks about it, either, sister, but here we are. You need some killing done, you need us.”

  The hooded Reaver took a menacing step toward him, but Kaz stepped between them, facing PwnrBwner with one huge sausage finger held high in query.

  “Would the esteemed hero like to try a wonderful new invention called bacon?” the Mighty Gourmet asked.

  PwnrBwner shot Zyra a grin and said, “Hell yeah, the hero would.”

  With a grunt of disgust, Zyra crouched and disappeared into the shadows. Smoke curled in her wake.

  “Come on,” Roark said to the High Combat Cleric. He turned and headed for the Troll Nation Marketplace. “We’ll be in the smithy, Kaz.”

  The Knight Thursr nodded an affirmative before hurrying off toward the inn.

  “So, what’s the plan, Cheaty McCheaterson?” PwnrBwner asked as he caught up to Roark.

  “To strip him of every possible benefit he has, putting us on equal footing. But to do that, I need him here in the dungeon, where I control the terrain.” Roark paused, drumming his fingers on his leather-clad leg. “How well do you know Bad_Karma?”

  The hero shrugged. “I say hey when I see him around the guild, but we’re not feeling each other up and shit.”

  Roark spent a moment processing the strange adage, then nodded.

  “Can you get in touch with him?”

  “Like PM him? Sure, but it’d be a month before it got through. I told you, the dude’s a popularity god.” PwnrBwner shrugged. “In Hearthworld, anyway. IRL, he’s probably eight hundred pounds and so fat he can’t climb the stairs out of his parents’ basement. With the number of hours he’s spent online, there’s no way he’s got a real life.”

  Roark raised an eyebrow. “Has he spent more or less time ‘online’ than you?”

  “Wow.” The High Combat Cleric snorted. “It’s like you don’t have a level cap on your asshattery.”

  “I’m only making an observation. Randy said I couldn’t possibly have spent this much time in Hearthworld without logging out, and from what I’ve seen you’ve been in Hearthworld most of the time that I have.”

  PwnrBwner rapped his knuckles on his breastplate. “I’ve got a life, okay? A freaking amazing one with an awesome job and a hot girlfriend. I only play as a hobby. Which is pretty lucky for you, since you can’t pull this PK off without me. So, one, you’re welcome, and two, what exactly is the plan?”

  As they ducked inside the Blacksmith shop and went to Roark’s anvil, the hellish heat of the forge washing over them, he explained PwnrBwner’s part in Bad_Karma’s downfall. The High Combat Cleric listened intently, piping up once with a key piece of information Roark couldn’t have gotten without him.

  “That’s brilliant,” Roark said sincerely.

  “Well, yeah,” PwnrBwner said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Randy reappeared while Roark was hammering out the newest addition to his portal plates.

  “Bad_Karma has everything,” the Arboreal Herald declared. “I mean, virtually everything. He’s
got half a dozen different passive resistances, some crazy buffs at his disposal, and some of the rarest items in the game, which seem like they cover just about every possible contingency any player might face.” Already in the meager few seconds he’d been in the smithy, sweat cascaded down his temples and dripped into his silver eyes. He swiped it away with the back of his bracers. “And even if he doesn’t have the items equipped, he has a host of other items stowed in his Inventory—thanks to the fact that he has nearly a three-thousand-pound carrying capacity, which is borderline preposterous. And that’s not even counting his alts. Here’s a complete list.”

  The Admin pulled an elaborate scroll from the air and handed it over to Roark.

  ╠═╦╬╧╪

  ╠═╦╬╧╪

  ROARK GRIMACED AS HE read over the list, quickly scanning the description of each ability.

  “You weren’t joking, were you, mate?” he mumbled. “This tosser really does have just about everything under the sun. Even has water breathing equipped.” He thought back to the Boots of Water Breathing he’d earned weeks ago—the enchantment had seemed rather worthless at the time, though he’d been so hungry to increase his Enchanting, he’d learned the rather simple spell anyway. He did notice one particular point that offered a small glimmer of hope: -25% Resistance Against Normal Weapons.

  Bad_Karma, it seemed, did have a weakness after all—just not one that anyone would ever expect.

  The hero was nearly immune to magical weapons and completely invulnerable to poisons of all types, but normal, run-of-the-mill steel would hurt him. In a way, it was perfect really. After all, any hero low enough to use a normal weapon would never stand a chance against a hero like Karma, and any hero or mob powerful enough to actually challenge him would never think to use an unenchanted weapon. But Roark could fill the entire dungeon with regular, yet deadly weapons at will. Yes, he could make this work, though the hours he’d have to spend in the forge were going to be nigh legendary.

  A puff of smoke went up to reveal Zyra perched on the workbench, leaning back and bracing herself on her arms. “I don’t know what exactly you’re planning, Roark, but it could all be ruined if he shows up with reinforcements. Have you even thought of that?”