Couch Potato Chaos- Gamebound

by Erik Rounds

  “As you wish, human,” he said. “Though why you would think us kidnappers is a mystery to me.”

  He rushed at Tasha with both cutlasses drawn and prepared to strike. She picked up a piece of cobblestone and threw it at his head, but he just tilted his head to one side, dodging the incoming rock. Both cutlasses came down in a vertical strike, and she put up her sword to deflect them. Both swords impacted with her gunblade and sliced right through it, shattering it into multiple pieces. The remains of her gunblade clattered to the ground.

  Not having time to mourn her poor lost weapon, she scrambled backward and got to her feet. Blood continued to spill from her wounds, painting the cobblestones red. Her sword was gone… what could she use? The buster sword was lying on the ground next to her. She hadn’t been strong enough to wield buster swords before, but she had a higher strength stat now. Maybe she could use it.

  Unlike her earlier attempt, this time she was able to actually heft it, though it took a significant amount of effort. Tasha couldn’t use it effectively as a weapon since she lacked the raw strength needed to swing it freely. But if she couldn’t use it as a sword, maybe she could use it as something else.

  Holding its immense weight in both hands, Tasha began to swing it around in a circle. Sparks flew as the sword scraped along the cobblestone ground. She spun it around faster, the centripetal force lifting the enormous blade up off the ground. Eventually it came to shoulder height, its speed increasing with every revolution.

  Mr. Cutlass was still holding back, not daring to get too close to the rapidly spinning buster sword of death. The muscles in Tasha’s arms were reaching their breaking point, and she was getting dizzy from spinning around so many times in rapid succession, already weak from blood loss. The marketplace was a vague streak in her vision, and her foe was a blur that appeared once every revolution.

  When Tasha felt that the sword had accumulated as much kinetic energy as it was going to, she waited until just the right moment to release it. Finally, its tangent was just right, and she released the buster sword’s handle.

  The blade flew through the air, spinning around its center of gravity toward the onlooking orc. The orc held up his cutlass to block it, but the momentum of the buster sword just knocked it away and continued on its flight to cut through the hapless orc, dealing three hearts of damage and knocking him to the ground.

  Tasha was still dizzy but scrambled to pick up one of the cutlasses. She rushed over to the dazed orc and stabbed him in the gut over and over. Each hit did less than a heart of damage, but she hit him repeatedly until finally he died.

  Tasha collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and dizziness as the combat log appeared:

  Victory! All enemies have been vanquished.

  +271 experience gained. (769 to next level)

  Level up!

  You have reached level 8.

  You have 4 unassigned stat points.

  Choose either a heart container or a mana container.

  Ethereal mist covered her body, and she was instantly healed from her earlier damage. Although it felt like a long drawn out battle, it really couldn’t have taken more than three or four minutes. Most of the surviving citizens had cleared out, and a good portion of the plaza had been destroyed. Tasha found herself wondering when the city guard was going to arrive to arrest the kidnappers.

  She looked sadly at the shattered remains of her gunblade. Saying a fond farewell to Kermit, Tasha turned back to the heart and mana container that floated in the air.

  Thinking carefully, Tasha decided that as much as she would love to have more health, she was relying more and more on magic and needed to be able to cast more spells per battle.

  As Tasha reached out to take the mana container, she found her body being lifted into the air. Her hand brushed against the mana container, causing it fall to the cobblestones with a clunk.

  A squishy blue tentacle had wrapped itself around her waist and held her aloft. Tasha panicked for a moment as the ground rushed away from her. Looking to the source of the tentacle, she saw an ovaloid blue slime below her.

  A moment later, the tentacle flung Tasha at the ground. She crashed against a vegetable stall, shattering it and sending cabbages flying everywhere. The impact cost her one of her heart containers.

  “Hey!” she said, getting back to her feet. “What’s the big idea? Are you with them?”

  A dwarf arrived on the scene and stood next to the blue slime. He looked like many of the other dwarves that she had seen wandering the city. He had red hair and a red beard in an elaborate braid. Unlike many of his kin, he did not have much in the way of ornamentation. In fact, he only wore a single gold ring on his right hand.

  The most distinguishing characteristic of this dwarf was the fact that his left arm was missing. In its place was a large metallic six-barrel machine gun. She wondered how the dwarf’s minigun arm attachment operated.

  Her curiosity was cut short by the dwarf’s reply. Like all dwarves since the advent of Tolkien, he spoke with a Scottish accent.

  “Of course we’re with them. I just arrived, but I still saw enough to know that you killed these people. Now, tell us what you know if you want to live.”

  “You’re with them? These are the kidnappers. I was about to interrogate Mr. Dual Axe over there.”

  “No, girl,” he said. “These orcs aren’t kidnappers. They’re the city guard. Didn’t you notice their badges? They were chasing one of the ninjas, and you helped her escape. Tell me where the princess is or die where you stand.”

  Whoopsie.

  “Listen,” she said, “I don’t know where the princess is. That’s why I’m here. I’m looking for clues.”

  “I don’t believe you. Everyone knows that orcs serve as the bulk of the city’s police force. Their badges have the word ‘police’ on them. Nobody could be that stupid.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Tasha protested as the dwarf’s machine-gun arm began to spin up. Tasha had the feeling that their conversation about to take on a more murderous tone.

  From somewhere in her head, Tasha could hear boss battle music starting to play. The dwarf and slime appeared in the combat menu. The dwarf was a level 9 machinist and the slime was level 8 paladin. Though she’d reached level 8 she hadn’t had time to allocate her stat points, so she might as well have been a level 7.

  As the minigun spun, it emitted a whirring sound. She took that as her cue to start running. Bullets shot out at an incredible rate, reducing the cabbage stand behind her to a mess of splintered wood, ruined vegetables, and shattered dreams.

  Tasha continued running, and the line of bullets continued to spray just behind her, penetrating the building where she was standing. The bullet-riddled sign above the building read “Saint Sara’s Home for Orphaned Children”.

  The gunfire had almost caught up to her, so she dove to the ground, and the spray of fire passed over her head, continuing above her and incinerating a bookseller stand. Ripped pages flew everywhere.

  Though Tasha had avoided most of the bullets, a few of them hit her and cost another heart container.

  Thinking quickly, she leaped into the air toward the dwarf, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon style. His gunfire tried to follow her, bullets spraying into the orphanage behind her. As Tasha reached the apex of her jump, a tentacle lashed out at her. She double jumped out of the way, just barely avoiding the tentacle.

  As Tasha landed, she invoked Sprint and rushed at the dwarf. Tentacles lashed out furiously, but she dodged between them. The dwarf was lowering the minigun, and the spray of bullets was almost pointed at her when she reached him. Tasha dodged behind him and put the cutlass to his throat.

  She leaned into him and said, “I have an idea: How about you stop shooting up the marketplace, and I’ll stop murdering orc guards, and we can discuss this like civilized people. How does that sound?”

  The dwarf nodded, and his minigun vanished from his left hand, revealing a metallic nub where his arm o
ught to be. The slime retracted its tentacles into its body, returning to its earlier ovaloid shape.

  Tasha lowered her cutlass. “I didn’t kidnap the princess. I’m trying to find her. I only came here to find you two because the court jester told me you might have information.”

  “What about the ninja you let escape?” he demanded.

  “I didn’t know she was a ninja,” Tasha said, exasperated. “I thought she was just a cat girl who was being chased by kidnappers. She said the orcs were trying to capture her. When I see cute cat girls being chased by orcs, I need to rescue them, okay? I’m sorry, but that’s just how I was raised.”

  “You can’t kidnap a kidnapper,” the dwarf said, crossing his arms.

  “Why not?”

  “You just can’t. So you just let the kidnapper go and murdered half a dozen city guard by accident.”

  Tasha pursed her lips. “Yeah, seems that way.”

  A moment later, a dozen more orc guards arrived on the scene. Unlike the low-level guards she had fought just a moment ago, these were all level 30-70. She wouldn’t stand much of a chance against even a single one of them.

  “What happened here?” said the largest of the guards.

  “I saw the whole thing,” said a small elf who was hiding behind one of the few intact stalls. “This woman helped a fugitive escape justice and killed all of these guards.”

  “That one’s not dead,” Tasha said, pointing at Mr. Dual Axe. “Also, one of them ran off.”

  “Listen, I think there may have been a misunderstanding,” said the dwarf.

  The elf continued, his face turning red. “And then this guy pulled out some kind of machine gun and started shooting up the place. He destroyed everything! The once beautiful marketplace is in shambles. Even the orphanage behind me is now riddled with bullets. I think the two of them were working together.”

  The orc guard pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs. “Well, I’ve heard enough. You are both under arrest. Please don’t resist. Hasn’t the city seen enough death and devastation for one morning? Hand over your weapons and surrender.”

  Tasha dropped the cutlass and didn’t resist as the guards secured her hands behind her back. They were similar to handcuffs but didn’t have a locking mechanism. She figured they required some sort of magical key.

  “But I don’t wanna go to jail,” she protested.

  As Tasha was led away, she realized that her half hour was probably just about up. She wouldn’t be able to meet Ari and Pan after all. She could only hope that they would visit her in prison.

  Chapter 17

  The Slime Who Loved Me

  Ninety-two years ago

  King Iolo Questgiver paced in circles outside of the save point just beyond the inner walls of the capital. Stars dotted the night sky, and only moonlight and the save point’s faint glow provided illumination.

  “What is taking so long? It’s been six hours. How long does this usually take?”

  His wife, Queen Kiwano, had come to the end of her three-year-long pregnancy and was in the throes of childbirth. For her safety and the child’s, the birthing was being performed at the save point just outside the capital. Generally speaking, elven women could only give birth on save points when complications were expected, but due to the unborn child’s importance to both the realm and to the king himself, an exception had been made.

  He was confident that the child was going to be a boy. There were spells and technologies that could divine the child’s birth, but his wife steadfastly refused to use any such thing. She didn’t want to know the child’s gender until after the birth, and the king had relented. Even so, Iolo was certain that his child was going to be a boy who would grow into a strong and wise king. A king who would lead the elven people into the future. Fathers had a sense about this sort of thing.

  The queen was hidden behind a curtain that offered her some privacy. Elves as a race were not a prudish or modest people, but the queen and midwife had both decided that a modicum of privacy was appropriate.

  One of the king’s advisors approached him. “Perhaps Your Majesty could return to the castle. There’s no way to know how long this might take. It’s not unheard of for elven childbirth to go on for days. There is work to be done on integration negotiations. The counter proposals with the hill dwarves and dark elves still need your attention. You know how important this is to our survival as a race.”

  He was distracted from what the advisor was saying by his wife’s cries of pain. “I… believe I will stay with my wife. Bring me the counter offer from the hill dwarves, and I’ll review it over here.”

  The advisor wasn’t wrong about the importance of the unification and integration of non-elves into the kingdom. Their war with the humans would inevitably lead to their defeat and ultimate enslavement if nothing was done. During battle, humans from Zhakara captured elves, imprisoning and enslaving them. The elven population decreased every year, and it was but a matter of time until humans won the war through the slow process of attrition. Elven births were rare, celebrated events. Elven women didn’t reach childbearing age until well past their five hundredth year. Humans, on the other hand, multiplied their population at a rapid and exponential pace.

  Unifying the kingdom with non-elven races and integrating them with their people was the only way for them to survive long term. Perhaps Zhakara would hesitate before attacking a unified kingdom.

  Before the advisor returned from his errand, the sounds of childbirth abruptly stopped and were replaced by the cries of a newborn child. Iolo pushed his way through the queen’s personal attendants and into the save point, where his wife was waiting. Queen Kiwano held the newborn child, a look that somehow combined extreme exhaustion, satisfaction, and motherly joy all at the same time.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Kiwano said. The baby had a small tuft of green hair, just like her mother’s, and emerald eyes.

  “Yes, she is,” Iolo replied. His earlier hopes about the child being born male were already forgotten. He held out his arms, and the queen let him hold their newborn daughter.

  “Does she have a name?” asked the midwife.

  The queen turned to her. “Her name is Kiwistafel.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The small elven child raised her right hand. Her eyes began to glow faintly.

  “Fraisha ûl!”

  A ball of fire formed in the air before her and flew toward the training dummy. Before the fireball could reach its target, its intensity diminished, and only a small flickering ember hit the target, bouncing away and falling to the stone floor.

  Princess Kiwistafel stomped her foot. “It’s not working.”

  The dark-elven sorcerer looked at her, his disappointed eyes partially obscured by his long white hair. “Drink a mana potion and try it again.”

  “But it isn’t working, Magus!”

  “You should be able to incinerate that target even with the meager amount of mana you have at your disposal. When you draw mana, focus on channeling it through your entire body rather than simply from your core.”

  “That’s what I’ve been doing, but it’s not working.”

  Savik D’hagma was the high magus from the dark-elven city-state of Gothmër. He crossed his arms and scowled. He did not enjoy spending his time teaching this high-elven brat the fundamentals of magic. The child had yet to prove herself worthy of his time. “Then try harder.”

  “I am trying harder, Magus. I don’t see why I can’t equip my staff or my robes.”

  “You refer to the Staff of Fates and Gown of Daybreak passed down through your house? You want to use unrestricted legendary gear to attack a training dummy? Is that what you are saying?”

  “It’s just… it would make it easier,” she mumbled.

  He crossed his dark gray arms over his chest. “Yes, and that’s the problem. Training isn’t supposed to be easy. Just think about it. Your legendary equipment would make a mighty spellcaster out of any talentless fool. With that sort of gear, e
ven a bumbling weakling would be made mighty. Are you a weakling, Princess? Are you nothing without your equipment?”

  “No, Magus. I’m not weak,” she said and drank the mana potion. Her mana containers returned to full.

  She closed her eyes and imagined a glow of energy originating from her core, just above her pelvis. She visualized energy forming at the points of her fingertips and at the ends of her feet. The energy traveled from her feet, through her legs, and into her core, through lines of energy. She continued to pull mana into her core until it was a bastion of pulsating energy.

  Having drained her arms and legs of mana, she formed a vein from her core, upward through her solar plexus and into her heart chakra where, like every time she’d attempted this previously, the mana flow slowed and died to little more than a trickle as it reached her throat.

  When she opened her eyes, they were glowing a dim white. Her vision was filled with white clouds, though her target was still clear enough for her to make out. She had to cast the spell now or even the meager concentration of mana that she had gathered would be lost. She raised her right hand. “Fraisha ûl!”

  A ball of flame originated just beyond her hand, flew toward the target, and died before it even got to the halfway point.

  The dark elf laughed. “That was even more pathetic than your last attempt. You’ll have to do much better than that, unless you’re planning on having your enemies laugh themselves to death. Again.”

  “Maybe if you let me level up,” the princess stammered, “I can put more points into intelligence and—”

  “No!” the magus cried, his voice dripping with barely repressed disgust. “If you level up even once, you’ll never master mana control. You would be building your house upon sand.”

  “Yes, Magus.”

  The dark elf watched as the young princess tried and failed to hit the training dummy a third time, and then a fourth. When the dark-elven leadership agreed to teach their mana-channeling technique to the young princess, it had seemed like such a good idea. Their newly unified Questgivrian empire would benefit from having a strong princess and future queen.