The Land of Trademark Online

by Nikolai Chekhov

  Charge I (C)

  Climbing I (C)

  Fidget Spinner III (C)*

  Fondling I (C)

  Juggling I (C)

  Kick I (C)

  Party Pooper III (C)

  Masturbation III (C)*

  *III - Proficient is the highest rank for non-class skills.

  **VI - Grand Master is the highest rank for class skills.

  ***Skills without Acclimation are considered Mastered, but still have merging options available.

  Attributes:

  Total Attributes (Attributes From Gear)

  Strength: 35(8)

  Constitution: 28

  Agility: 46(6)

  Wisdom: 27

  Intelligence: 21

  Charisma: 13

  Luck: 16

  Common Skills:

  Party Pooper: Mastered

  Non-Class Skill: Party Pooper

  Rank: Mastered (1,000 Skill Points)

  Effect: When triggered you emit a depressing aura (Duration: 5 Minutes)]

  Shit tits. I had to give it to the bastard; he knew how to guilt trip me and somehow still be an asshole. But I didn’t care; I was no longer spammed with a thousand skills.

  In Game - Day 6

  Chapter 52

  Location: Sharmon

  Limbs and the soft breasts of two women were pressed against me when I woke. Amard and Sun both slept nude and remained snuggled up next to me.

  Using four arms to please two women took an intense focus, mostly because the extra set of arms were still new. Once I found my stride, or maybe I skilled up, it felt amazing. An agile tongue and fingers gave a person so much power over another. While Amard and Sun were in the throes of a rising orgasm, they begged for release and would have done anything for it.

  I smiled at the memories and extricated myself from the tangle to get dressed. Before I reached the inn’s common room, I could already hear Earle talking shit.

  “Lissen muddafuchas, muh boss gorna stabby-stab yer arseholes.”

  “Oookay, that’s enough alcohol for the squirrel,” I told the innkeeper. “How the hell is he paying for those drinks?”

  “Don’t know, stranger, but he has been payin’ me in gold.”

  In a panic, I quickly checked my bags and inventory, but it was all there. It—shit, the loot from the dungeon. “Earle, is this why you looted those coins? To get drunk?”

  “Yeayea bossss, I gots—hic—problems, but I ain’t no ‘holic ‘cause der ain’t no quit inna me.” Earle’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and fell over onto the counter.

  Thunk!

  A second later, two black rice shaped turds squirted out. The bartender and I looked at each other, and I slowly slid three gold coins across the counter. I grabbed Earle and turned to leave.

  “Did you really kill cannibals?” The innkeeper asked.

  “Yes, one of them was the companion I came in here with yesterday. He set an ambush for us.”

  “He dead too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Name’s Broc, and I have a quest to kill as many of them as possible.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what did they do to you?” I was curious but hoped his family wasn’t killed or something like that.

  Broc rolled up his sleeve and showed me where a section of skin was scarred over. “They send taste-testers, thugs with several cannibals as back up, and if they catch you alone, the cannibals hold you down while the taste-tester slices into you and samples the goods.”

  “And?”

  “The sonofabitch spit me out,” The innkeeper said and leaned over the bar so no one could hear him. “Said I tasted like broccoli, and that no self-respecting cannibal would ever touch me.”

  Earle wasn’t all the way passed out because I hear his little chittering laughter. I managed not to laugh, but only because the innkeeper looked formidable enough to end me. Still, a man called Broc tasting like broccoli; the devs had fun with that setup.

  “I’ll take the quest…?” The comment came out as more of a question than a statement, but the moment was so tense I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.

  “Great,” The innkeeper smiled and pulled back away from the counter and me.

  [Quest: The Cannibal Last Supper

  Success: Acquire a Three Course Meal

  * 1 x Leg of a cannibal named after a meat

  * 1 x Heart of a cannibal named after a vegetable or fruit

  * 1 x Side of your choice (limbs, head, or organs are acceptable

  Reward: Rare Cooking Recipe, 100 Gold, and a 10% discount while staying at Broc’s inn (all food is free).]

  No doubt about it, I’m eating nothing from this inn. Ever. After I woke the girls, and we packed up, Earle was semi-conscious. He climbed up onto my shoulder and lodge himself there as we traveled.

  The road remained clear most of the way to the Kongdom Proper, and there were plenty of people on the road. The girls chatted quietly behind me, and I was ok with that because I could focus on our surroundings. After about an hour of walking a wagon rolled up with no cargo.

  “Hey ya’ll, headin’ to the Kongdom Propah?” The wagon driver asked with a drawl. His face weathered from years in the sun, and he had sharp blue eyes. Despite looking like a laborer, his clothes were clean, and he had a cheerful disposition.

  “We are,” I replied. “Going to meet up with some friends, possibly do a dungeon or two.”

  “Freinds are good things ta ha’e. I gotta head ‘n ta town to pick something up,” The farmer said and then pointed thumb into the back. “Cause o’ that, I got room ta gi’e ya’ll a ride fer a gold coin per rider.”

  “Yeayea, boss. Say yea to dis muddafucha,” Earle grumbled from the sack he rode in.

  “Yer squirrel ain’t natural,” The farmer said, and his sharp eyes scanned our group once more.

  “He’s harmless, just has a foul mouth and a bad attitude,” I told the farmer and pulled out four coins and handed them over. “I’ll even pay for him too.”

  “A’right, but if’n he causes trouble, ya’ll takin’ da blame fer him.”

  “Deal.”

  All of us climbed up onto the back of the wagon and settled in. Earle jumped down, crawled to the corner, and fell asleep right away. While the two women chatted, I laid back and took a nap too.

  [Point of View Shift

  Adjusting to 3rd Person Omniscient…done.

  PoV shifting to The Father…done.

  Re-engaging vision…done.]

  “Good timing, primate. Here’s a [POV Shift] for you.”

  “Not going to be more penis stuff is it?”

  “You need to relax.”

  “I was relaxed, on a nice wagon ride through the countryside, with two beautiful women keeping me company.”

  I sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing. I’d end up getting called a retarded monkey.

  “You’ll want to see this.” NPC sounded serious, and I settled down to watch.

  Once more, I found myself in the medieval conference room, and not much had changed except the people present. BanHammer, Spymon, Nomar and the other usual suspects were there, but a new edition caught my attention. There was a new set of gnoks with green belts. Their belts looked similar to Bustin ‘Spymon’ Cloan’s yellow chevron-shaped belt.

  “Who are they?” I asked NPC while moving around them to get a better look.

  “A new elevated order of gnoks, I believe he calls them his [Street Sweepers]. While they are janitors, and they literally clean streets. They also handle the Father’s messier—”

  “I get it; they are a cleanup crew for handling any messes the Father or his men might have created.”

  “Yes, but they are also in place to tear down any competition. Do you ever wonder why the Father’s books excel in reviews and the others don’t? Most gnok’s have an ability called [Review Bomb]. On their own, it's harmless, but they rarely act solo. This new group, they have two abilities called [Oxford Comma] and [Oxymoron]. T
hey can steal [Oxford Commas] from [Authors] to use as components in creating [Oxymorons].”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Imagine an open-ended system that allows you to spend [Commas] to create powerful buffs out of any oxymoron. They can make themselves [Stupid Smart] or [Alone in a Crowd]. Or they could cause discontent by riling a crowd with [Agreed to Disagree]. Turn a normal creature into something chaotic with [Regularly Irregular].”

  “Is that a real ability? That sounds overpowered as hell.”

  “It’s real, but [Oxford Commas] are difficult to gain. Plus, the Father has them using [Original Copy] as a priority. It allows him to spread his reach with his gnoks and still keep the originals near him—if a copy dies no big deal. The more powerful these [Street Sweepers] become, the more copies they can create. Allowing them to stash small armies all over the realm.”

  “Damn, I knew the [Oxford Comma] was dangerous, scary, and evil.”

  I shook my head and felt a bit nauseous.

  “Damn, I knew the [Oxford Comma] was dangerous, scary and evil—woah, Déjà vu. What the hell was that?”

  “You retarded monkey, a gnok just stole your [Oxford Comma].” NPC laughed. “The bigger issue is this ability shouldn’t exist. It is like gnoks gained an advanced class, but that shouldn’t be possible without involving an Archgod. The upside is that we are positive he can only make so many of these specialists, hence the copies. But that is not your problem.”

  I sighed because I was not left much recourse. These assholes were making my parents look like benevolent caretakers.

  “Anyway, we are getting sidetracked, yes I wanted you to know about them, but this POV isn’t about them. I wanted to show you why I enjoy having this Father guy around. Now watch—play.”

  The room animated once again, and no one moved for a good few seconds, telling me I had missed what was said prior.

  “What do you mean I lost?” The Father was red in the face and screaming like a petulant child. Spittle splashed against those bowed before him. “I fucking came up with this competition—I had you promote me to only people we trusted and keep it hidden. I practically made sure I won every vote, and I lost!?”

  “Well, not lost exactly.” BanHammer said looking at the other Kongdom leaders, but none of them would look at him. “The people voted you as the winner for one award…”

  “Well, which?”

  BanHammer refused to look the Father in the eye. “The [Best Newb Author] award.”

  The Father sputtered, “ME!? I built this fucking realm. I made all those fuckers famous. Me! They didn’t do shit. They fucking owe me.” Father’s nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. In a much quieter, and possibly deadlier voice, he continued. “How dare they vote me in as the newb. Who won the other awards?”

  “Technically, you didn’t build this realm, the Russian [Authors] were here long before you.” One of the gnoks said, which felt off, and even the Father’s eyes narrowed as he tried to find which gnok had spoken.

  BanHammer continued as if he had not noticed. “Shagwell won the [Best Author] award, Lord Sauerkraut won the [Most Likely to Finish a Series] award, Baul won the [Obsessive Novelist] award, Blaze Bot 7 won the [Most Talented Author], and Dave the Exile won [Best Attitude].”

  “My subjects think they are funny, do they?” The Father’s emotionless face was scarier than his plump smiling one. Then again they both had those dead eyes staring back. “Who won [Most Beloved] and [Best Series]?”

  “Daws of the Chapped Men was chosen as [Most Beloved], and [Best Series] went to The Way of the Shaman.”

  “Sir,” A gnok stepped forward, and he only had one arm. The other arm, the sleeve was missing, and the hole sewed over. “The people think you are an idiot for creating a competition and then trying to win all the awards. They mocked and ridiculed you while they voted.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” The voice came out in a hiss.

  “Sir, you were busy chopping off my arm after I told you I did not like you anymore and was leaving.”

  “And I still dislike you, and now I must take a leg. Nomar, take him to the dungeon. I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Nomar sighed and grabbed the gnok by the throat. The big Minotaur lifted the frail gnok effortlessly and carried him below. The images froze shortly after.

  I couldn’t stop laughing, and NPC joined in.

  “Yes, this guy is an alpha class loser. But I know how you could rival him.” NPC chuckled evilly.

  “Do I even want to know?”

  “You can become Heisenberg. I checked around, and you are the only person with the [Meth] recipe, you could start your own empire and—”

  “Breaking Bad? Really? No thanks. He can keep his villain status.”

  “You’re no fun,” NPC groused before dumping me back into the world. Not before I snagged a chair and tossed into my [Bag of Holding].

  [Point of View Shift

  Adjusting to 1st Person…done.

  PoV shifting to yourself…done.

  Re-engaging vision and bodily control……done.]

  “Hey, sleepy head. We are almost there,” Amard whispered, her mouth next to my ear. “I will have to meet you at Bad Seed Inn because I cannot enter through the main gate. I’ll explain later.”

  “Understood and be safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks,” I told her while I slapped her ass lightly. An enormous grin spread across her face, and she licked her lips before kissing my cheek. A few seconds later, her hair was pulled up, and she was wearing the outfit she had on when I first met her. It was an illusion item, and now she looked like a boy or young man. Amard hopped down and waved at us as she took off into the thinning edge of the forest.

  “She’ll be fine,” Sun said from my other side. “She outclasses you in a lot of ways, which is why I’m surprised she joined with you. Not that I’m complaining, because this [Harem] has a strong foundation.”

  We rolled into the Kongdom Proper ten minutes later.

  Chapter 53

  Location: Kongdom Proper

  “Bands. Show your [Drama Meter].” Guards called out as it was waving people through.

  “Dimi, this guy is at sixty-five percent.” The guard called back to the man standing on the low wall in front of the gate.

  “No, send him away. Sixty percent or lower unless they are a resident. That’s the law,” Dimi called down.

  I was close enough to hear the exchange.

  “Sorry, elder. I can’t let you in,” the guard said softly. The old man nodded and left, not wanting to risk increasing his [Drama] further. None of the people in this crowd had any pep in their step or life in their eyes. This was their reality, and it both nauseated and angered me.

  We passed through without an issue, but Amard had already adjusted our [Drama Meters] before she disappeared. I worried about her, but the woman was capable and probably better off than any of us.

  “Deuce, keep that squirrel out of trouble. His [Drama] is your drama since he is your companion.” The guard warned as we walked away, and his words felt like an omen. I looked at Earle who finally looked more alive than dead, but he shrugged innocently with his little paws held out.

  This might be a short stay.

  The Kongdom Proper was large, but the way everyone talked, I expected bigger. Most disconcerting was the silence. Sure, I could hear people haggling, calling out their wares, clops from hooves on cobblestone, and the general hum of people talking but it was subdued. There was no yelling, fighting, color, or life. Even the merchants we approached looked uncomfortable when we walked up to sell goods.

  “Yeayea, boss. Dis place creepy as fuch,” Earle said standing close to my head, and even his normally loud voice was muted. “Whatdafuch are ya lookin’ at?”

  Beep! A soft ting sound carried on the quiet street, and my wrist vibrated. I looked down and saw that my [Drama Meter] went up by five percent.

  “Cool it,” I hissed at Earle. Not tha
t I cared that he was loud or about the meter thing, but the moment it beeped shadows in the alleys coalesced, and green glowing faces stared out from the shadows of their cowls. Gnoks, and a lot of them. They stayed in the dark of the alley—watching.

  “Boss, all dese muddafuchas are staring at ya,” Earle said in a whisper. “I dun wanna be here.”

  The chittering was quick and perpetual, and with him so close to my head I could even hear the soft clicking of his little paws as his nails tapped together. Sadly, I agreed with him, because this place was depressing. We reached the central part of town and entered a massive square with a statue three times taller than a man, and I recognized him as the Father.

  The most prominent building took up one whole corner of the plaza, and the sign swinging out front called it the Chaos Seed Inn. It was the first sign I had seen that did not have ‘ya mouth’ painted below it. The building was seven stories high and built in an L shape, and took up the southwest corner of the plaza, with the entrance on the west wing.

  Several centaurs carried a palanquin as they clip-clopped their way through the plaza. Off to the side, I recognized Nomar, and in the light of day, I could finally see that he was a Minotaur almost twice the size of a normal man. His bull horns were cut down and the ends rounded and polished.

  “Look, Shagwell is at it again.” A voice in the crowd called out and pointed towards a third-story window. The door on the balcony was thrown open, and the window to the right which was almost floor to ceiling revealed a bedroom with its curtain thrown back. A man, presumably Shagwell, was kissing on a woman and had her pressed against the window showing the curve of her shapely rear.

  The crowd grew significantly larger as people flocked towards the [Drama] unfolding. Yet none dared crowd the invisible circle that formed around Nomar and the palanquin.

  “[Inquisitor], what is going on?” A voice called out.

  “Jason Shagwell is about to have sexual relations with a wom—make that two women inside your inn. The entire plaza can see.”

  “Down.” The man sitting on the palanquin said and then stepped off and turned to face the hotel.

  Sun, Earle, and I were within three meters of the Father, and he smiled towards his people. The Minotaur stepped up near the Father and took a deep breath. The bull-head snapped towards the crowd, locking on to someone not far from where my group stood, and the crowd damn near parted right at that moment.