《Strong Arm Tactics》 Prologue - Part One Strong Arm Tactics Prologue - Part One In games where you can distribute stats points yourself every level there are generally three main schools of thought. The first is to spread points into all stats equally. This may sound good but what would your mage need with fifty points of strength. Compared to others at higher levels you lose out in terms of base stats and you end up becoming the worst time of jack of all trades. The second is the polar opposite of the first; you put all points into one stat. By level 100 you have a God level of strength that allows you to one shot Boss monsters but the rest of your stats are that of a level one character so you can barely hit your foes or take a hit for that matter. The third, more widely accepted, school of thought is to cultivate your stats to compliment your class. Physical fighters go with strength, agility and stamina while spell casters tend to lean towards intelligence, wisdom and stamina. Of course the ratios will be different between a rogue, a warrior and an archer or a wizard and a priest. Some players however dip into others stats. A paladin will need more intelligence and wisdom then a warrior and a battle-mage may put a few points in agility to increase his evasion or their physical defence. In the ground breaking world ranked #1 VR-MMORPG: Royal Road; Mandeok( Profit Margin)was definitely the worst type of Jack of All Trades. While Aristole( Royal Scholar)was the middle road having balanced his stat build in line with his chosen class. Ogre on the other hand was a Purist. ********* Jonathon Cyr was an average 28 year old man. He had his share of worries and problems like anyone else. "Bills to pay and women to lay. Cashing cheques and breaking necks." as his ex-brother-in law, the investment wan....banker, would always say while alternating between pelvic thrusts and spanking the ass of some invisible woman. Jon tended not to care what other people thought. The weight of the world however had been really getting him down lately. Divorced; now living back with his parents in the same room he grew up in, while slaving away at a dead end job in an economy, that was frankly in the toilet and all while rapidly approaching thirty. Thirty was the expiration date (or so he had seen on some day time TV garbage) for men. Unless of course you were wealthy and then the shelf life seemed to extend right up until the deathbed. Too bad his harpy/succubus hybrid demon of an ex-wife had wrung him of all his life savings. During her very acrimonious legal slaughter-fest. The one joy he had now in his life was playing a game. Not just a game but the game. Experts and critics agreed that this could be the only game you may ever need: Royal Road. a Korean VR-MMORPG that had destroyed everyone''s concepts of computer games, virtual reality, societal norms and life itself and it had barely been out for close to two and a half years. He hadn''t expected to find both his parents so deeply engrossed in this game when he was forced to return to the nest. Their twin capsules had been setup in the basement and as they had blown through his inheritance purchasing them it was decided the least they could do is add a third one to their collection; the gesture spawned a new found appreciation for his long suffering parents. The strange egg shaped capsule was a gateway that transported you to a place where you could almost do anything. To the point of echoing clich¨¦d taglines like "Makes your dreams a reality." This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Jon however had no need to become an Emperor or whatever. He would use this game like all the other beat''em ups, shoot''em ups and dungeon crawlers he''d played in the past. He would use it to vent his slowly growing frustrations; Cathartic Mob slaying had always worked for him before. ''Got built up stress that you let stew inside; fermenting. Then lose yourself in a button mashing marathon before you go postal on your friends and co-workers'' He would tell himself, strangely it would always be narrated in his mind by a voice that sounded like a greasy Late Night Shopping Channel Salesman. But it worked as Pixelated End Bosses had been the outlet for all his teen angst. Never more was it needed than today. Today had been an unprecedented disaster of a Moanday. The college surfer cashier had called in sick. ''Symptoms: a serious hang over and a bad case of the munchies. Diagnosis: The patient is suffering from Frat Party Syndrome. Please ladies and gentlemen tonight we make this appeal on behalf of the thousands of students affected by FPS across college campuses everywhere.'' A voice from a Telethon said in a sombre tone when Jon heard the news. He had no idea why his inner monologues tended to sound like TV personalities but it made for some interesting commentary. The next crushing blow came when he found out the new (attractive) female cashier had (flirted) persuaded the manager to get the afternoon off, thus leaving the small burger joint down to just a skeleton crew. But the hits kept on coming. The walking Health and Safety violation working the fryer somehow managed to give his back third degree oil burns and just after the ambulance left several customers complained of stomach cramps. Which lead to Carnage (explosive vomiting and diarrhea) as they ran the gauntlet to the broken two stall restroom; the ambulance made a quick U-turn and picked up the five new cases of food poisoning. By now the Manager should of had the good sense to close but the high-school dropout with the golden handshake demanded they work the remainder of the shift under penalty of "immediate dismissal". A four day intense managerial seminar had taught him far too much in Jon''s opinion. So the geriatric cashier manned the front, the manager ordered food from another branch and Jon was unceremoniously handed a mop and bucket. In a futile attempt to bring the restrooms back up to code. Somehow they survived. And as soon as the sign was reversed he was gone, barrelling out the door and down the street to shower at the Y. His mothers self defence classes were on at the same time so he at least managed to scrounge a lift. She could tell by the less then subtle expression on his face that he had had a less than stellar day and their car ride home passed quickly in silence. It was only as she was pulling into the driveway of the families suburban semi detached did he finally say something. "Think I''m going to start playing tonight." She flashed a warm motherly smile. He had wanted to wait until his next holiday, the weekend after next, so that he had ample time to get to grips with the game but after today he doubted he could last another day let alone until then.
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Prologue - Part Two Prologue - Part Two After tea he headed down to the basement, as his parents washed up, and slipped into the capsule. The plush interior was surprisingly spacious as he settled into the chair and began the start up process. Within a few moments the standby Unicorn Corp screen had changed and he found himself staring at the Royal Road title screen. A red laser light shone into his eye.
-:Confirming unregistered user. Shall we create a new account? :- Yes/No
A simple start. He confirmed it and the screen changed to the beginning of the character creation process. A rendered silhouette hovered in front of him with its arms outstretched to the side.
-:Select the name of your avatar:-
"O..G..R..E. Ogre." He spelt it out then repeated it to ensure the system registered it correctly. He was in luck as the name hadn''t been taken yet.
-:Thank you. Please select your gender:- Male/Neutral/Female
A small name tag appeared above the featureless paper-doll that read . He selected male and as the doll slowly morphed into his perfect visual copy as he wondered what exactly a neutral gender was and if it would play any differently from the other two. He wasn''t brave enough to find out. The Doll now had his face and a more masculaine outline but it still showed no clothing at all. Just the impression of chiselled pecks under the blue rendering.
-:Royal Road has forty-nine races. You may select your race from the primary twenty-nine:-
A row of small figures appeared under the dolls feet and he used his finger tips to scroll through them. Twenty nine were displayed and of the remaining twenty only blank outlines could be seen. When he tried to click on one a grey cross with the word ''LOCKED'' appeared over it. He spent several minutes looking at his character as various elves and dwarves before picking a human species: Barbarian race. They were almost identical to the humans on the Continent only a head taller a slightly stronger. A human sub species that had evolved in keeping with their climate.
-:You may alter your appearance:-
He was about to skip this phase but a strange urge gripped him and with one quick slide of his right index finger he connected his eyebrows into one impressive mono-brow. He pulled various facials which the doll imiated like a mirror. This single change seemed to add an air of intimidation to all of them regardless of if he was smiling or pouting. His doll grinned back mercilessly before glaring at him, seething with anger.
-:Thank you. your account has been activated. your stats and class shall be determined while you are playing Royal Road. On behalf of Unicorn Corporation please enjoy the fully immersive world:-
-: Please note that due to racial selection you will receive +5 points to Strength and Agility but -5 points to Intellect and Wisdom. If you are aiming for a Spell-casting class we advise altering current race:-
Jon paused a moment to consider his options based on what he had found on the official sites forums. Humans had average stats with no major advantages or weaknesses. Dwarf''s had skill penalties applied and some races of elf''s had environmental penalties. As a barbarian he would start with 15 strength, 15 agility, 5 intellect, 5 wisdom and 10 stamina instead of the average Human equivalent of 10 in all stats. The trade off was inconsequential as Jon had no intention of being a glass canon. He waved the message on.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it-:Starting in Barbarian Rock, Lasalle due to racial selection:-
-:Welcome to Royal Road. The first step on your journey of high adventure beings now:-
The message faded to white as did the screen and in a blinding flash he found himself standing in a primitive looking village. Between the countries of Lasalle, Tullen and the land governed by the Britten Alliance lay an imposing mountain range. the peaks of which stretched high above the clouds. They were nowhere near as tall as Horom Mountain in the Plains of Despair but they were still impressive. The area of the range inside the Lasalle border was known as Barbarian Rock. A large flat plateau, a great tabletop that seemed to support the horizon. It contained an expansive cloud forest full of deadly predators that easily blended with the undergrowth just waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander to close. The Barbarian people themselves carved out a living in a single tribal community nestled at the forests edge overlooking the forested Lasalle plains below. Jon, now Ogre, looked around. Leather clad men, women in fur and half naked children were going about their lives like normal people. The level of realism and detail in the game was such that at first glance it was difficult to distinguish the Players from the NPC''s. He allowed himself a few moments to mentally acclimatise before he headed off to the training hall to begin his "therapy session". The basic training hall in other human settlements was a simple building with rows of wooden dummies that players of all levels used to test new skills or improve their stats with. The one in the Barbarian settlement differed completely. It was an arena. A single large dirt circle in which people sparred, surrounded by rows of seats and under a patch canopy made of bone and hide. It put Ogre in mind of the Coliseum crossed with the Thunderdome. After confirming his stats, satiety and inventory he joined a group of twenty, Players and NPC''s alike, already waiting on the instructor.
Character NameOgre
Health100Mana50
AlignmentNeutralProfessionNone
TitleNone
Level1
Stamina10Strength15
Agility15Intelligence5
Wisdom5Charisma5
Luck5Fame0
Offense0Defence0
Magical Resistance
None
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Sorry about the mess I''am still trying to fix some formatting errors. SL Chapter One - Part One Chapter One - Part One After a few minutes an older man almost two metres tall and covered in muscles, that only seemed to be contained by the multitude of scars and a simple leather armour, appeared. He walked steadily out of one of the arena''s passage ways. Each step was full of purpose, confidence and unmistakable power. Jon was sure that if the old man started to run you would certainly feel the ground shake. Above him floated several words.
<> Kong <>
"Listen up you young pup''s, names Kong. I run this here Arena. In my wild youth I fought on its blood soaked sands, crushing the skulls of my foes into the dirt under my heel. They called me Iron Crusher and although the Glorious days of my Golden youth are behind me I have battled Devilsaurs, Jungle Fiends and whole packs of Raptors. It would be foolish to think I''d lost my edge." He growled at them as a strange sensation washed over them, the air even distorted a little.
-:You have been Hit by a strong <>. You are now affected by <>. Movement speed reduced by 30% for 10 minutes Attack power reduced by 30% for 10 minutes Defence power reduced by 70% for 10 minutes
Jon stared at the system message blankly before dismissing it and looking around at some of the other people in the group. Several were on their knees shivering and a couple had fainted. One poor sod had been so affected that he was convulsing on the deck while foaming at the mouth; the crotch of his beginner gear noticeable soaked. No one seemed unaffected but at least Ogre had remained standing. Old Kong gazed at the latest sorry bunch of trainees through his one good eye, a jet black a patch covered the other and the tell-tale scars of old claw marks could just be seen poking out of the top and bottom. ''Useless....useless....not bad........'' His piercing stare locked on to a single youth. His body wasn''t well built and his features were unremarkable, his mono-brow looked like someone had stuck a caterpillar to his face but nothing shouted out ''here is something special''. But the Iron Crusher had spent years honing his instinct, like all his kin, and that same instinct was now alert. He had always been told that instincts like these are primal things and he had always thought of his like a wild beasts predatory sense. Now his great stalking tiger of instinct was growling menacingly at the only youth who seemed only mildly affected by his <>. A <> that could make even the Great jungle beasts turn and flee with their tails between their legs like whipped dogs. ''.......interesting.'' After a simple explanation of the Ground Rules of the Arena he withdrew to the side lines to oversee the training of the Clans next generation. Several people chatted in smaller groups but most headed to the weapons racks and then sought a sparring partner as they had been instructed. They would be spendng the next four weeks of in-game time prohibited from leaving the town so what else was there to do. Ogre sauntered over as well and took a long hard look at the weapons on offer. All were wooden and well used. He had decided to wield a weapon and not become a monk because Jon was not a fighter. He had thrown his fists around the playground in his youth but not to the extent that he would call himself a martial artist. So when his eyes roamed over the faded leather strips tightly wrapped around the barrel of a smooth club he knew he had found something. He picked it up and was greeted by the now familiar blue boxed system message.
-: 3-Pound Lumber:- Durability: N/A Damage: 1-2 A trainee club type weapon. Cannot leave the training hall but all are free to use it herein. Requirements: N/A
Jon was overcome by nostalgia. Long before he turned to video games the guidance counciler recommended to his parents that he vent his anger issues at the local batting cages. As he had been a very angry kid he had spent most of his evenings and weekends there; pummeling balls with all his might. So it was no surprise then that he had made the team when on a whim he signed up for the schools baseball try outs. However Jon knew he had no talent for the game, a harsh fact, but he continued to polish what little skill he did have and every game day he would leave all his anger out there on the diamond. Even then he knew he wouldn''t be able to take it far, not when a fellow little leaguer was being touted as ''the Reincarnation of the Babe''. Eventually people had growth spurts and quickly over took what little ability he had. But he had never forgotten the feel of the bat in his hands and as he gave the club a few practice swings it was like he was back there; in the prime of his short career. Maybe it was the Barbarians higher strength but satisfying small clouds of dust were blown around with each successive swing. He put it behind his back and did the few warm up drills he remembered before the first challenger approached him. "Yo. Fancy a quick round?" the bright eyed youth inquired playfully fidgiting with two short wooden daggers, one in either hand. "Sure" Ogre grunted in reply. They made their way from the side racks to the wide centre space, which was now occupied by several other pairs already fully engaged in sparring. a few spectators had gathered in the stands and around the inner wall by the weapon racks. Ogre tapped his new bat against his leather shoes before gripping it in both hands and holding it level at waist height. The other saw that he was ready and began his charge from several metres away. The quick dash in was meant to build enough momentum to either shoulder tackle him; knocking him down or back or both. Or, as was more probable given his weapon choice, allow for a greater build up of speed to unleash a flurry of twin slashes. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Ogre was unmoving as the figure covered the distance faster and faster. Just as his opponent was about to enter his strike zone he shifted his feet taking a wider stance, drew back the bat and swiftly swung it forward with all his might. Sometimes it''s the simple things that work the best. ''HOMERUN!! Oh my God I didn''t think he had it in him, did you?'' ''No I didn''t. I definitely didn''t think he''d make this sort of comeback so late in the season. Could this be the return of Mr. Full-Swing?'' Two sport pundits commented in his mind as the body of his former opponent flew like a rag doll across the arena and into one of the surrounding walls. What was so difficult about hitting a charging person when you had experience striking a 95 MPH Exploding Fastball. (AN: Told you his little league was full of prodigal talents) Plus to increase his speed the dual wielder had run with his head forward and angled slightly down trying to use gravity to increase his acceleration. The ninja-esque run style had one unfortunate effect. It brought the vulnerable head directly into the strike zone at an almost perfect position. No one caught that pop-fly. The arena was completely quiet as spectators watched in stunned silence as the boy''s body slide down the wall and slumped on the ground. The silence was broken by an old hag who shuffled in and began chanting <>. Although the Barbarian race had low magic capabilities and couldn''t become first class Mages or Priest without years of suffering, they did have a good aptitude for the Shaman class. It was a jack of all trade type class that could heal, buff, curse and use swords or maces. Within moments the dual wielder was back on his feet. He crossed the difference and thrust out a hand towards Ogre who hadn''t moved from the spot since hitting it out of the park. "That was incredible. Next time I''ll be even faster and a hell of a lot harder to hit. You had better look forward to it so remember the name Nitro." "Un.." Ogre grunted in reply. A bro-mance was blossoming in the eyes of all the onlookers, the birth of an eternal rivalry. ''The next time we meet he''ll probably be some sort of speed based assassin.'' Jon pondered absent-mindedly shouldering his weapon as several people approached him to be their next sparring partners. And so he spent the next four weeks sparring constantly in the arena. This actually took around 19 weeks as he could only play from four hours a day (eight on weekends) due to RL commitments but thanks to the 1:4 time dilation in RR he finally completed the basic training almost five months after first logging in. The sparring sessions of the arena lasted until one challenger either surrendered or had their health reduced to 1 and were rendered K.O''d. Thankfully while in the arena you couldn''t be killed; only die shamefully from low satiety. ********** Today was the final day of his grueling training program and as he drove his faithful 3-pound lumber down vertically into the summoned wolf familiars skull, he was rewarded with several system messages.
-: You have gained 1 strength: +1 strength:- -: You have gained a title: Future Champion of the Arena. You have shown promise in the Barbarian Rock Arena, many of your people look forward to your rise to fame. +10 Fame. This title is given to all who complete the Basic Training at Barbarian Rock. -:You have completed the Basic Training: +10 Fame:- -: Your fame has increased by 20. NPC''s shall treat you slightly better:-
Jon was pleased, he had blown his stress away every night in the red-brown sands of the arena but it was starting to reach its limits. Now with his training complete and his probationary four weeks in-game over he would be free to begin exploring the Continent and looking for more stress releif. Apart from the 40 points he had got in strength, agility and stamina he had also gained a new stat <> and a new skill <>. His training would have gone smoother if not for the surprising arrival of a human girl. The player was level 50 and her name was Da-In, a human shaman who had climbed the Barbarian Rock to learn some spells from the Shaman teacher old Granny Kang (the Iron Crushers wife). She was by far one of the prettiest woman Jon had ever seen but after a few days in her company he quickly got over his little crush. When there were no Players to spar with or NPC''s ready to train for their Rite of Passage the Iron Crusher would unleash his menagerie of Beasts upon Ogre, which he didn''t mind. It was fun taking on something different and new every once in a while. The problem was Da-In. She stood on the side lines casting her spells. At the start she would buff Ogre increasing his attack power, his speed and his strength. She even threw a few heals his way or de-buffed his foes when things went south. However she had an unusual hobby. When the ferocious beasts he was clobbering seemed on the brink of death she would heal them back to nearly full health. Sometimes she even buffed them with the same skills she had used on him. The worst part was that she even cast her de-buff''s on him. In fact Jon was convinced that he had earned the <> stat quicker thanks to her constant torment. She stayed with the old Arena owners learning from both Granny Kang and Old Kong for several weeks but one evening when Ogre arrived for his sparring session she was gone. Jon felt a little lonely for a while but then he heard she had accepted a group invite to hunt in the undiscovered Sky-City. He prayed that she wouldn''t play around too much with her new teammates. His only issue now would be how to unlock the hidden Berserker class that he wanted so badly. He was just about to visit the Warriors Guild and the Intelligence Guild to search for a hint when Old Kong approached him.
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Chapter One - Part Two Chapter One -Part Two The battle hardened veteran stared at him, an unmistakable glint in his one good eye. "So you like to hit things really hard eh. Just hitting it till the problem goes away is fine but if you could harness your inner rage into strength would you? If that sounds like what your after then I think I could help set you on the correct blood soaked path. What do you say my boy?" Thinking this could be the hint he was looking for Jon was about to answer when he noticed the Giant leering Hannya mask behind the instructor, it was floating menacingly above Granny Kang. Who cooed with a sweet voice, that didn''t match the black aura she was emitting. "Darling husband of mine a word if you will."
-:You have been Hit by a strong <>. You are now affected by <> You are Paralyzed by fear: 30 seconds remain Movement speed reduced by 60% for 10 minutes Attack power reduced by 90% for 10 minutes Defence power reduced by 120% for 10 minutes:-
Beads of sweat formed on the instructors brow and rolled down his face as he turned to face his wife. She dragged him off to one edge of the Arena like a school boy about to be scolded while Ogre waited for the effects to pass. All he could do was stand there like a statue and watch the timer tick down. He spared a worried glance to the scarred instructor only to see him being berated by his wife who after a few moments of heated debate threw her arms up in frustration and stormed off. The instructor stomped back sulking. By now the < > had worn off. "About what you said before sir I would like to accept your offer." This brought a smile back to the instructors face, if only breifly before the mood darkened again "Sorry the missus said I can''t" He paused, taking time to consider his words carefully before continuing. "...but if you can prove yourself to her then am sure I could teach you what I know." The fearsome glint was back in his eye. "And how do I do that?" Ogre asked, a little worried by the sudden change in the Training Hall Demon. "Oh that''s the easy part. Follow me." Was the nonchalant response he got from the instructor who assumed an aloof air of superiority as he turned and headed out of the arena with Ogre in tow. They walked through the town for a few moments, Jon taking in all the sights and smells as he hadn''t left the Arena in all his time spent online, before arriving at the edge of the village. There was a steep drop into the jungle below. The Barbarian Rock plateau had two levels to it. From the outside it looked like one flat mesa but that was because you couldn''t see the inner basin from Lasalle soil. In fact the whole plateau was ringed by a thick strip of land, on which the village sat, before it dropped off steeply into the jungle basin below. At the centre of which beat the magma heart of the long dormant volcano. Jon was wondering what came next when he saw the instructors wide grin. "now.....SURVIVE!" Said the instructor playfully as he jabbed one muscular leg into Ogres stomach and lightly kicked him off the ground and over the edge. "....IS......THIS............SPARTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH???" Ogre screamed in confusion as he fell through the air. **Ting**
-: You have been forced to accept a Quest. Rite of Passage. Once young Barbarian children reach a certain age they undergo Agoge to prove themselves in the eyes of their kin, their clan and their ancestors. They would be cast into the jungle below and only those that survived were allowed to return. Their names were recorded before they were thrown down into the jungle and only after the trial ended for that season would they be mourned. To pass one must bring back proof of having conquered a Jungle Beast and Ascend the steep slope to return to the Village. Difficulty: F Reward: Dependent upon whether or not the High Shaman is suitable impressed by your achievement:-
The box dismissed it''s self as several branches rushed up towards him breaking his fall. He lay there dazed on his new bed of broken branches for what seemed like hours, contemplating. Even if he did survive and returned to the village if Granny Kang deemed his trophy unworthy then it would have been a futile exercise. Plus he didnt have a weapon and his beginner gear would not stand up against even dull claws. It had been tattered beyond recognition in just the fall alone. Ogre stood up, stripped and made what he had into a lioncloth, at least his diginity would be preserved even if his life couldn''t. When he had his bearings he walked over to the small waterfall that cascaded down the sheer rock wall and washed his face. Once the last traces of the ordeal were scrubbed away he glanced skyward. A small round thing was poking over the edge of the descent. It was then that a small curved shape began waving by the round object. Suddenly both disappeared. Jon could almost hear the instructor saying "good at least he didn''t die" before turning to leave. ********** The dense Jungle was dark and uninviting as Ogre pushed his way through it. He was following the river looking for suitable shelter or food when the first ambush occurred. Three brightly coloured frogs the size of small dogs appeared on his path and without warning began lashing their tongues at him. The one on his left was black and yellow, the one of his right was green and purple, while a red and blue one assualted him from teh front. If real world logic applied then their vibrant markings would be indications of extreme toxicity and danger. As this was a game he wasnt sure if that applied until the two on his flanks began spitting globs of poison at him while he was being pressured from the front. He just managed to evade them but the ground where the mucus balls landed sizzled and smoked. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ''Not a good idea to get hit by that and I can''t keep dodging everything.'' He was beginning to panic. Sensing his fear the three flicked out their tongues binding his neck, his right arm and squeezing his chest. When he tried to resist they tensed their elongated muscles and pulled him around like a puppet on strings. "No I''m not ...going....out .....li..like this." With one last defiant surge he used his left hand to grab hold of the nearest tree and with great willpower he used his right hand to snatch up all the tongues while he endured their tightening. With a scarlet face he closed his fist tighter cutting off power to the end of the sticky leashes. After a few seconds they loosened slightly as their owners tried to squirm free. He ripped himself free of them and stared coldly at the brightly coloured amphibians. "RRRAAAAGGHHHHRRR!!!" he roared swinging the three frogs, in a flail like manner, straight into the thick trunk of an ancient jungle tree. Pained croaks and ribbits of agony escaped their slimly lips. What they heard next froze their cold blood solid. "We''re not done yet." A calm voice whispered coldly. Ogre grabbed the tongues this time with both hands and swung them with his full strength into every nearby trunk. Over and over again the vibrant colours blurred through the air only to splatter against solid wood. When they finally exploded into grey smoke and experience the forest floor was covered in a dense layer of fresh wood chips and several trees were pox marked with deep bloody impact craters. Ogre picked up the few copper they dropped and the single small vial
-: You have acquire: Arrow-head Frog Antidote(weak) A weak antidote made to combat the poison of low level Arrow-head Frogs. Not effective against higher level poisons:-
He stored it in his inventory and checked the system messages that he had ignored during the attack. The majority were talking about the damage he''d taken, he was surprised to find his health had plummeted to around 30%. A few were about his movement speed being reduced by their <> skill but the most surprising of all. Were the last two. They were level up notifications. He hadn''t realised that the three Arrow-head frogs were level 5 and as he had defeated them at level one he had gained enough exp to level up to three. Without sparing another moment he opened up his character window and dumped the ten new points straight into strength. There was no hesitation in his choice at all. He took a breath and quickly reviewed his battle. ''So they lash and bind with their tongues. They can spit deadly poison and am pretty sure their skin will be poisonous to touch so I definitely need to find a weapon before i run into another group of them or something stronger.'' He healed up and left the battle field continuing to follow the river down stream. Eventually he came to a small clearing on his side of the stream which had now widened into a river. He was making his way cautiously across it when something cracked under his foot. He looked down to see his size nine had gone through the ribcage of some skeleton. A little shocked he let out a small yelp as he fell on to his ass. The motion caused the skeletons remains to jump up and dance a little jig in the air before scattering back on the earth below. He slowly reached out to touch the skull when. **ting**
-:You have discovered Field of the Fallen. A small clearing in the dense jungle basin where many generations of eager Barbarian youngsters come to do battle with deadly foes. + 5 fame: Fame increased by +5:-
He closed the message and looked around. It was true he could see the remains of many people, several of which had young plants and saplings growing through exposed holes or gaping fractures. Overcome by a strange urge Ogre collected the bones together and buried them in a quick grave he had hand dug in the soft earth. After covered it over he clasped his hands together in prayer but it occured to him that he didnt know quite what to say. He wasnt a religious person but he knew that at times like these you had to say something so he racked his brain for any possible solution. After ten minutes all he could think of were two phrases. ''Vaya Con Dios'' was one; it had been the catch phrase of the renegade hero, in an action flick from the 80''s he''d seen once. Who would say the line then blow people away with his AK. The other was ''Amida Buddha'' which his favorite martial arts films always included just after the hero had preformed his Heart Destruction Fist and the enemy lay hemoraging on the floor. Neither seemed right so he clapped his hands together again and shut his eyes. "Good night. Rest well."
-: You have laid to rest the souls of the Fallen. No grudge will be carried on when you loot their stuff:-
He was a little surprised by the frankness of the message. After that he sifted through what remained in the field; obtaining some new leather armour and a couple of small pouches. No useable weapon though, the remnants of rusty blades he mounted upright to serve as grave markers. Without a second thought he logged off for the evening.
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Chapter One - Part Three Chapter One - Part Three The Continent of Versailles continued to turn; days to nights and nights to days. In the Jungle basin of Barbarian Rock, on the Border of Lasalle, Ogre once more appeared. of course only a single day had passed in Real Time since he had last logged in but that was the thing about MMO''s, the persistent world kept changing regardless of whether or not your character was there. Equipped in his new, although badly damaged, leather armour he once more set off through the jungle undergrowth but this was not the same Ogre as he had been four days ago. Jon hadn''t been idle and during his breaks at work, or at any time he could get a few moments to himself, he was searching for information on the Jungle Basin, Royal Road in general OR jungle survival in the Real World. Especially to see if anything new about his favoured class had been disclosed. The forums had a few rumours of a Berserker cutting a bloody path across the Continent but nothing more. Or at least not anything other Players wanted to share. What he had discovered was that the basin had Dungeon like properties, monsters grew in strength as you ventured further toward the core. As he was still near the outer edges the chance of encountering a strong monster was relatively low but not impossible. Ogre kept this in mind as he swept through wide fronded foliage. A rhymic banging sound could be heard around him. Whether it was curiousity or stupidity he picked up a few stones at his feet and headed towards the source of the noise. Several minutes later he brushed aside a large leaf and found the source of the noise, the ground around him reverberated with each motion. Small stones hopped into the air around the big body of a being sitting in a glade. The figure sat in a posture like one might expect from a child, with its legs splayed wide and its back a little hunched. It was pounding the ground in between its bulky legs with an impressive club. Its head bobbed from side to side as it sung its little song at the same time as whacking away. "Mining, mining ~ Mining, mining ~" After beating the ever growing crater for a few minutes it seemed to get frustrated and bellowed. "Come out Gold! Come out Silva!" Before unleashing a full-powered two-handed over-head strike that split the earth. Ogre was so surprised by the force of the strike that he let out an astonished whistle. The sound was louder than he expected and the figure had obviously heard it as its neck snapped round. An ugly scrunched face stared feriercly at him. It quickly sprang up. Standing two and a half metres tall, covered in bulging muscles but with a great pot belly and covered only by a crude loincloth the orcish brute was actually quiet imposing.
Outcast Ogre Simpleton
Was visible above its head as it roared and began its charge. "No take Gold!!" Player Ogre looked at Monster Ogre with a little trepidation. He rolled the stones he''d pick up in his previous stop around in the palm of his hand. With a snap of the wrist he launched the first one and before it had hit its mark the second and third projectiles were rocketing through the air. All three hit their mark but it barely slowed the bruiser down. It stomped across the glade like a charging rhino, raising its club above its head before bringing it down sharply and swinging it wildly from side to side like he was trying to mow down everything in its path. It brought to mind the fearsome windmill punch that young children would use with equal abandon. However this reckless assualt had much more power as long stalks of grass bent double and nearby boulders chipped from the air pressure and glancing blows alone. Jon knew that if he took one head on it would be insta-death. Unfortunately it was too late to do much else as the beast was already upon him. The blurred club came rushing at Ogre from the left and he had to little time to dodge but just enough time to raise his arms to block. The solid wood met the soft flesh and the inevitable happened. Ogre''s token resistance was crushed without a second thought and his whole body was propelled backward. Ogre crashed through all trees, shrubs and rocks that stood in the way of his flight path. In the clearing the ogre stood still. It blinked a couple of times and its cloudy bloodshot eyes became clear. It moved its head from side to side, peering into the undergrowth, as if to say,'' Huh? Where''d he go??'' Before it return to its previous engagement of trying to extract metals from the earth. It raised the club up to begin mining again when the sound of something very heavy being dragged through the trees could be heard. Several flocks of birds scattered to the sky and the tops of a couple small trees disappeared from the canopy. Their timbering crash reverberated around the clearing as they were felled with great prejudice. A figure emerged from the path of destruction the ogre had just turned away from. "Your mother never tell you it''s not nice to hit people with sticks?" its breathing was ragged, "Too bad mines bigger." Ogre sneered, blood dripping from his mouth, as he hauled one of the broken trees he had plummeted through into the glade. His crude block had only lessened the damage as the system messages told him he took 90% of the hit. He gripped the trunk with both hands, putting in all the strength he could muster, before swinging at the carefree creature sitting in the middle of the clearing. There was no form or style to the technique. It was primal; full of aggresion and the ogre could do nothing but sit there and take it. It exploded on impact, a shower of splinters and wood pulp rained down, after the smoke cleared Ogre saw his foe still sitting there, still very much alive, with both hands covering his nose. He clicked his tongue. "OWWWWW!!!!" it bellowed fighting back more tears "You hurt me? No! Me hurt YOU!!!" And with that it scooped up its club and made a frenzied dash, blood and tears streaming down its face, toward Ogre, whose own weapon had been reduced to half its former size in the last exchange. "Bring it on Big Boy!" Roared Ogre as he raced to met the opponent head-on. For what felt like hours they swung their clubs at each other but with each exchange Ogre''s improvised weapon was shaved away in an explosion of wood debris. While he opponents polished hard wood remained intact. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Jon was all to painfully aware of his Health. It had now dropped to 10%. It wasn''t all one sided however as his opponent had around 23% remaining. he thought it would be a simple case of just hitting hard than the other guy from here on out but Fate is never that kind. The last of his tree trunk crumbled under the punishing assault. Weapon-less and barely clinging to life Jon did the only thing he could when the next powerful swing came at him. He took a half step back. The tip of the club whizzed past just barely missing him. He had steadied himself against the wind pressure of the full-swing and thanks to his time in the Arena had gained enough understanding of this body to be able to use it at least how he wanted. Exposed and vulnerable from the miss the enraged ogre tried to launch a back swing strike but his opponent was quick enough not to allow him time to recover. A solid foot found its mark between his meaty thighs.
-:You have dealt a Critical Hit:-
Ogre watched as his foe buckled. ''So humanoid enemies have similar weaknesses?'' He tried to approach but his downed foe wiggled the club at him with one hand in a defensive manner, trying to keep him at bay while he insured the survival of his species with the other. Ogre took a breath and removed what remained of his tattered armour. At 0 durability it would break but at 1 he could still have it repaired, saving himself a little of the cost of a full set of new armour. Before his opponent could fully recover Ogre scooped up and threw a handful of sand, dirt and splinters into the Outcasts unguarded face. ''That''s a dirty trick by Ogre but will the Champ fall. Will we have a new title holder here on BEATDOWN Tonight.'' a ringside ex-wrestler commented as his partner made ready with the steel chair. Dirty fight ha! This wasn''t some refereed match with rules and time outs, this had always been a brawl. A battle for survival. It wasnt the fastest or the strongest or the smartest that lived it was those who could adapt. Ogre dodged around his prey, the hand from the groin was now up at his face rubbing desperately at his eyes. The club hand wiggling now in a manner like a blind person would feel for obstacles. Ogre landed a couple of hits to the flanks and followed up with some quick rabbit punches. He dodged as best he could trying to stay in the dead angles and blind-spots of his crippled foe but he wasn''t always so lucky. The club would catch him or a limb would flail out to hit him. Both sides had what remained of their lives shaved down slowly. In a final desperate act the ogre dropped his weapon and grabbed his enemy in a bear hug, trying to squeeze what little life there was out of him. Ogre gazed into the crimson bloodshot eyes of the Beast he had been battling so ferociously. A small smile crept across his mouth as he threw his head back and gazed at the sky, pristine white fluffy clouds were racing across it gaily. "It''s Ok. Rest now." A small calm voice escaped his lips as he thrust his head forward and began to feverishly headbutt the stubborn thing. It finally exploded into grey smoke and Ogre fell a few feet in the air. In the battle scarred clearing he collected his thoughts and ate some of the tasteless barley bread. After a brief interlude to recover his health and satiety Ogre picked up the few item drops that remained from his life and death struggle with a real ogre. He had gained three more levels during the cataclysmic clash and promptly distrubuted the new points straight into his <>. He was also surprised to see his <> had increased and he had acquired the <> stat. But his main surprise was when he found the ogres discarded club laying amongst the scattered debris. Weapon drops were quite common he just hadn''t expected it. Thankfully its information wasn''t hidden so that meant it was somewhere between poor - common quality. Any higher and he''d have to take it to an Appraisers or learn the <> skill himself.
-: Ball-headed War Club Durability: 65/100 Damage: 8-10 A club weapon with a sturdy knot at one end. Made from the side branch of a hard wood tree, the angled hammer heads shape is made by being worn down through constant use. Requirements: 60 STR :-
Thankfully he had the pre-requisite strength to use the thing or he''d be stuck facing countless mobs bare handed until a decent weapon dropped. Fully fed, watered and armed he trudged off back through the jungle. His destination was back to the outer edge of the basin, to hunt for trophy kills at the foot of the rock face.
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So that''s all I have for you. A little Bank Holiday present. I tried a new chapter format; instead of 1000 word prologue and 5000 word chapters. I split it down into prologue(just happened to become a two part''er) and a three part chapter made of 2000 words. Did this work or should I just stick to my usual 5000 word style? Please let me know your thoughts on this and the work as a whole. Hope you enjoyed this regardless. As always thank you for taking the time to read it and so until next time. SL Chapter Two - Part One Chapter Two - Part One They had set off in high spirits that morning from the tribal camp. The forest had been full of a strange black aura and their Shamans had forbade going into it beyond the outposts until whatever malevolent force was gone. They had obeyed but now the villages supplies were running low and more would need to be gathered if they were to continue to survive for much longer in the jungle. Luckily the shaman hadn''t felt the black presence in a while. So a small party was formed to do a quick supply run; a procurement quest. Three ogre scouts, armed with a full quiver of fire-hardened wooden javelins and a large imposing club slung over the other shoulder. Accompanying two ogre grunts, crude stone axes in hand for harvesting resources. The grunts would be carrying all the necessary supplies back to the awaiting encampment. They had ventured closer to the outer wall than they maybe should have. Tempted by its rich saplings that just were right for coppicing. Their triangle formation ensuring the safety of the heavy supply sack that dangled like a tiger from the pole bridge that connected the two grunts. Suddenly in front of them on the forest trail appeared a strange figure. It materialised out of thin air before them. Even separated by a distance of at least two hundred yards they could hear it chanting dark curses under its breath. Unfortunately the lead scout locked eyes with the figure. Its glowing crimson pupils full of bloodlust sent shivers down the veteran hunters spines as it continued the chant. It began its charge at them. The party reacted quickly; dropping the animal hide bag of foraged goodies, and readying the first volley of spears. The forest rang with angry bellows of; "DO YOU WANT F****** FRIES WITH THAT!!!" As the bloody onslaught began. ********** Silence soon returned to the jungle, an unnatural silence that was almost too quite. A foreboding kind of silence. At its epicentre Ogre sat on a log, it had once been a proud tree before his latest skirmish started, just enjoying the peacefulness of the jungle as the grey smoke of experience wafted by. His fights so far had served only to clear away the top layer of his stress before it accumulated but this latest high tension battle had been a real therapeutic deep clean. Cleansed his body felt lighter and he rotated his shoulders just to feel how loose they were. He was reflecting on the fight in the tranquil afterglow of his victory. The one problem that sought to spoil this rosy atmosphere was that if Ogre had one weakness then this latest fight had made it glaringly obvious. In the beginning he had tanked straight in, rushing his opponent without a care. He hadn''t bargained on the rain of spears that greeted him. The first couple he had barely avoided although he wasn''t so fortunate with the second and third waves. Regardless he just pressed on relentlessly. With their golf-club bag like quivers empty the ogre scouts tossed them aside and brandished their impressive clubs. While the two ogre grunts tightened their grip on the simple stone axes they carried. Ogre continued his ferocious charge not even slowing as he wrenched a wooden spear from where it had pierced his left shoulder; his body was covered in slowly seeping wounds caused by light grazes and glancing blows. The head of their triangle formation readied his club as the other two scouts moved forward to join him in forming a defensive line. Muscles bulging as he put more power into each step and with a small low leap forward Ogre covered the remaining distance and engaged the flesh wall head on. It buckled slightly but held firm. After that it was business as usual. He swung his own club to parry and beat back the clubs of the scouts. They met him blow for blow but as there were three of them, then more often than not Ogre took several hard hits head on. He thought he had finally gained a foothold in their brawl as he landed an especially powerful blow that knocked one of his opponents a few feet to the left but this small victory ended quickly as the awaiting grunts took this opportunity to close the gap and begin their assault. The party was well coordinated and it was difficult to hold off three half wounded foes especially now that two new fresh opponents lent their support. The ogre grunts didn''t have the speed or strength of the scouts but they did have the same robust endurance inherent to all ogres. They made full use of their stubborn will to live to harass him in the frenzied melee. With their free hand they would try to catch hold of him, slowing or stopping his movement and while he was obstructed they would lash at him with their stone axes. As he focused on them then the scouts would move into better positions from which to strike. Eventually, after much blood was shed on both sides, the first scout died. It had been the one that had taken a heavy hit and was knocked back. After him first one, then followed in quick succession, the other ogre grunt fell. With their numbers dwindled and their support gone the last two scouts could only offer token resistance but still they did resist until the very bitter end. On his log Ogre let out a deep long sigh. ''If they''re long range attacks had dealt more damage or if they were able to heal out when they rotated fighters I probably would have died.'' And it was true, the current Ogre was lacking and Jon knew it. That had to change. ''I need to acquire warrior skills but they have to be skills that complement how I want to build Ogre'' The perfect picture of his Avatar; Ogre, that he held in his mind''s eye, was that of a wild untamed bloodthirsty berserker and it wouldn''t do to give him skills that conflicted with that rugged image. No shield bash or Heavy Plate armour for him. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.But all fighter type classes had several similar skills; taunts and cries for example. These were what Ogre needed but the first skill Jon wanted to give him was something else entirely. ''I need a long-range attack or a ranged pull skill.'' It was the one fatal flaw Ogre had. If he couldn''t cover the distance quickly enough he would die pathetically under a rain of arrows or a hail of spells. ''I could use simple wooden javelins like those ogre scouts, good for long range and mid range combat? No that would mean carrying around a stack of them and probably learning <> .'' And he had no intention of changing Ogre''s fighting style. He needed a skill that was simple and straight forward but no matter how long he thought an answer still wouldn''t come. He got himself stuck in a spiral of thoughts as all the throwing weapons he had seen resembled kunai or shuriken. ''A berserker-nin would be just plain wrong.'' He began to slowly mumble the problem, once more chanting black curses. "Javelins.....throwing weapons.....thrown weapons......thrown................throw!!" As though the light bulb had exploded above his head, he was suddenly graced by a single stroke of particular genius. Ogre grinned wickedly as the thought wave crystallised into an idea. He didn''t need a spear skill he needed a throw skill. Simple and straight forward enough to only enhance his perfect Ogre image. With that he hopped off the log, scooped up his loot and without even bothering to check it returned to his rock wall rest stop. Hours later small piles of stone rubble littered the jungle floor around the Barbarians feet. He had spent all that time pitching stones, from pebbles to rocks, at the impact crater target he had smashed into a nearby tree trunk. Under arm didn''t seem manly and definitely would not be able to give the power he needed, while over arm just didn''t have the accuracy. He wound up another slider and pitched it hard at the target. As with most of his "balls" after several shots at the target they eventually crumbled to dust. This latest sacrifice exploded into a dust cloud on impact, propelling little shards into the surrounding vegetation. Ogre looked down at his feet, none of the pile he had collected remained. The closest thing was easily a small boulder. He was a little frustrated that he hadn''t gotten anything yet, even after pulverising all those stones, so he squatted down and brought all his barbarian strength to bear in his attempt to lift the thing. Hefting it up he could feel veins popping on his face as he jerked the stone up to shoulder height and hoofed it several yards. It flew in a low arc before gravity re-exerted its full control over it and it was forced to land. It did a couple of small defiant rolls before stopping abruptly.
-: You have learned Throwing skill. :- -: This skill allows you to throw various objects. You may exert 25% of your strength when you throw; increasing ranged attack power, ranged speed and ranged critical hit chance. :- -: Throwing Skill: Beginner Level: 1 (0.0%) :-
He read it over twice. The part that intrigued him the most was the line that read ''various objects''. Memories of the days when he dabbled in Pathfinder came back to him. Especially the moment he had decided to create a barbarian build around the ''Improvised Weapon'' and ''Throw anything'' skills for his next group campaign. Sadly his life had taken off and he was forced to shelf his character sheets and dice. Thinking it over maybe it was this legacy of his forgotten character that had helped him create Ogre and the picture in his mind was so vividly clear, as it had always been how he had wanted that character to turn out. Shaking himself loose from the fuzzy wave of nostalgia Ogre took his Ball-headed War club and slammed it into the rock face. A dull thud reverberated but nothing more happened. He hit it again and again until several chunks of it dislodged themselves from the wall higher up. They hurtled down with almost visible killing intent. Ogre jogged a couple of paces back and waited. He didn''t have to wait long as several of the largest pieces smashed into the ground. Throwing up clouds of dust as they half buried themselves. Then the rest rained down on top of them, some chipped and some shattered. Once the rock storm was over Ogre moved forward, dusting himself off, from where he had been standing. He looked joyfully at the rocky midden in front of him. "Now time to level my new throwing skill." Grinning he picked up the nearest chunk and hurled it with full force at his crude target. He continued with this for several more hours, rocks flew like bullets into the jungle canopy late into the dark hours of the night. Occasionally he would gain experience from killing something in the forest or his erratic shot would aggro something, that would then come charging out of the undergrowth, only to be met by several more fast flying stones and a heavy wooden club smash.
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Chapter Two - Part Two Chapter Two - Part Two The forums on the Official site had another name for the Jungle Basin of Barbarian Rock. They called it the Jungle of Abnormal Stats. The name was very well deserved. Arrow-head frogs with their vile poisons; Blood Hunters: Mosquitoes the size of rats, that used their needle like mouths to penetrate armour and drain you of your health to just replenish their own while causing bleed effects. Some even carried crippling diseases that could only be removed by purification spells. Mana Leeches that silently drained every last drop of your mana pool and de-buffed it''s regen rate and Lighting bugs; fire-fly''s the size of golf balls, that would give you shocking tackles or flash burns before exploding in a blinding pulse of light. There were Carnivorous plants that used their barbed vines to inflict paralysis so you couldn''t resist as they manoeuvred you into their digestive pots or sprinkled sweet pollen to charm you, so you walked deliriously in yourself. Lunar moths whose wings spread sleep inducting scales; various colourful mushrooms that danced up clouds of spores with excited jiggles, spores that caused hallucinations or fear and Great bats with confusion inducing clicks. Using their echolocation to disable and hunt their prey. (Z***t used supersonic. AN: Damn it''s Mt Moon all over again) Not to mention the menagerie of beasts whose claws could tear through armour and cause lacerating bleed effects or the roaming bands of ogre''s with their shrewd intelligence and their phenomenal strength that could stun, knock you down or knock you back with every blow. Tiki gnomes; diminutive dark shamans that spouted nothing but vile black curses. It was due to the hassle of hunting in such an environment that most players avoided it and even new Barbarians would instead choose to climb down to the Lasalle plains then descend into this madness. Because very few players ever bothered to come here much of it remained unexplored. But even the lure of undiscovered dungeons and rare loot didn''t even tempt the professional gamers to challenge the most aggravating stretch of dense jungle on the whole of the Versailles Continent. However some players disagreed. They reasoned that a well geared party could easily overcome it and it challenges served as good training for some of the known dungeons; each with their own status inflicting inhabitants. But all agreed that the single worst thing in the jungle were the Jungle Fiends. They garnered a special kind of hate from the player base all their own. By now Ogre had hunted most of the above mentioned jungle flora and fauna so it should have come as no surprise when in response to another of his wayward wild pitches into the jungle darkness, two figures stepped out from behind nearby trees. They were at least two metres tall; with pure obsidian skin stretched tight across a gangly frame. Instinct however told him that they weren''t weak, their thin bodies rippling with the tightly packed steel sinews of apex predators. They were built to hunt. Their faces were covered by large intricately carved black wooden masks but through the slits glared eyes so white they almost glowed softly and poking through the circular mouth hole, like a puckered sphincter, was a circular mouth lined with savagely jagged teeth that angled in towards each other. A dark brown leather long loin cloth was all they wore and hung from the waist band of it were several worn leather pouches. It was quite frightening sight to behold these arresting figures who loomed out of the darkness, like death itself had come for him. ''Jungle Fiends......'' Jon''s mind momentarily went blank before it kicked in to high gear at a small ''Pfft'' sound. He reflexively raised the solid wooden club to guard his vitals; Heart, neck and face. Two perfect long black needles appeared, impaled along the smooth polished surface of the club. The ends imbedded in the wood began to sizzle and smoke a little. ''Poison!!!'' Thankfully he had just been able to recall some of the limited information he had read that was posted about them. "They prefer to ambush their prey with poison darts before going in for the kill if they can''t bring it down from cover." Ogre roared fiercely and made to charge the two in the tree line. A third broke cover, flinging a small leather pouch at his face, while charging to meet him. Had it been a few days before he would have had no way to deal with this ranged assault but now he had the means to fight back. With a quick snap of the wrist from an under arm throw he loosed a quick stone shot. When it impacted the pouch exploded into a cloud of multicoloured dust. That quickly dispersed on the breeze. Another couple of wrist snaps, as he continued to rush forward, emptied his hand of the stones he had been holding before the combat began. They soared off to distract the two Fiends who had withdrawn into the shadows slightly to ready a salvo of darts. They dealt them heavy blows slightly off centre mass. It was just enough to disrupt their attack set up. With his arsenal depleted he tightened the grip on his club, the knuckles of his left hand blanched white. Jungle Fiends excelled at covert hunting thanks to their foot long hard wood blow pipes. From these they shot, with incredible accuracy and deadly precision, the needle mouths of Blood Hunters filled with the poison of Arrow-head Frogs. Their natural skin tones made blending with the shadows of the jungle undergrowth even easier. The perfect silent long range killer. If that failed to deliver results they would charge the target to engage in close combat. At mid range throwing pouches full of strange debilitating jungle magic to weaken their prey. The barbed bulbous end of a plant vine snaked towards him but Ogre had already dealt with those plants before and knew exactly how to handle them. He batted away the thick bulb before it could ensnare him. ''They also carried a length of paralytic vine to use as a whip! Well as long as it doesn''t hit me there is no risk of triggering the status effect.'' A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.By now he had engaged the first target, they had both covered the distance remarkably fast. The Jungle Fiend swung his blow pipe like a short club aiming to stun or thrust it like a staff trying to unbalance Ogre by disrupting his stance. Regardless Ogre simply just continued to swing his club fiercely. Unfortunately for him Jungle Fiends hunted the ogres that lived in the jungle. They had confidence in their speed that was built from years of dodging the powerful blows of the other Masters of the Jungle. They also had a natural resistance to magic, so much so that they could more or less shrug of the ordinarily crippling black curses of Tiki gnomes. So what were Ogre''s wild swings to them? The wide arcs and big movements were child''s play to avoid. Another wild swing swept from left to right as the Fiend ducked easily under it. However it had grown complacent, cocky even, so didn''t see the next strike coming. Without changing the angle of his club Ogre executed a downward motion. Had it been a back hand swing then no doubt he would have leisurely ducked under it but this unexpected action threw his timing off and he took the strong pommel strike squarely in the face. The two in the bushes watched silently as their companion was slammed into the ground. "Come at MEEEEEEEE!!!!" Ogre bellowed, spittle flew in their direction and his face reddened, neck muscles straining to their limit. A ripple of rage broke the calm surface of the Hunters minds, before they knew it they had cleared the bushes like Olympic hurdlers. Sprinting to meet their enemy head on. When their pouches were deflected into the bush. They pulled out the claws of beasts and began to slash at him with a capoeira like movement. Their natural karambit knives shredded his skin and caused deep cuts to open up. Ogre clenched his teeth, to ignore the pain because he had a target now. When they were on their feet they were definitely faster and more agile than he was, they could easily dance around his blows while slowly bleeding him dry but now one of them was laying face down in the dirt. He didn''t care about the two carving up his body, no he was more focused on their buddy in the prone position. He staggered towards him, his steps unsteady as the other two continued their assault. Soon he stood over him and with a wicked smile drawn on his face, Ogre took his club in both hands and raised it high above his head. They sensed what was about to happen and sped up their Dance of Carnage hoping to slow him down even a little, just enough for their brother to recover. He never got the chance. Undaunted by the blood flying around him, that spurted out with each new cut, Ogre brought the full weight of the War club down on to his foe. Throwing his whole body into the motion, he even bent his knees before the moment of impact to add acceleration to the damage he was to cause. The Ball head struck. The Fiends body spasmed. The jungle became quiet as the sound of the sickening squelch travelled through the trees. A small blue window appeared before Ogre to tell him his <> had Crit as the body disappeared into grey smoke. Frozen by fear or from witnessing such brutality the other two were slow to react to the follow up swing as Ogre began Round 2 of their brutal bloody battle. Covered in blood and deep wounds the Barbarian rampaged around the clearing until the two Fiends exploded into smoke and experience. He let out a victorious Roar that turned into a laugh, more innocent sounding than should have been possible for this incarnation of destruction and slaughter. When he calmed down he collected the spoils of victory into his bag and opened his character screen. This last hard fought victory had pushed him over the last hurdle to reach level 10. He was about to distribute his new points when he noticed his life bar blink green. The usual red bar had depleted to its lowest level yet and as he watched it every few seconds it would blink green and shave off a little more health. Realisation quickly took hold as he noticed a small icon that was ticking down, with each tick more of his meagre health was lost. He quickly checked his body and to his shock, there dangling from his blood soaked thigh was the unmistakable black needle dart. He ripped it out and began searching his inventory for the one item that might help. ''Poison! F***!! Where did I put that antidote?!?!'' Panic drove him quicker to his demise and only just as he grasped the small vial, uncorking it with one flick of his thumb, did the screen suddenly fade to black and a window appear.
-: You have died from Poison. You will be unable to Login to Royal Road for 24 Hours 23:59:44:00 :-
Jon threw open the door to the capsule and swore as loud as he could before pacing in the dark of the basement. He threw a quick glance to the capsules on either side of his own, their lights were still on so his parents were still out questing. The clock on the wall chimed as he stretched and headed upstairs. The next day or two at work would be difficult without his outlet but at least when he got back in he could grind away his frustration as he regained the skill levels and levels he had lost upon death.
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Chapter Two - Part Three Chapter Two - Part Three "Dear we have to talk." "Sorry snuggle-muffin. Daddy''s a little busy putting the sharp end of his big shiny sword into the nasty evil beast to talk at the moment, m''kay." The gentle voice firmly inserted itself between the dashing middle aged knight and the lumbering troll. "Hmmm, maybe should I just heal the troll so it kills you and then we can have our little chat in the REAL WORLD." The Knight shuddered, he knew his Cleric companion wasn''t bluffing in the slightest. With an almost pained expression he sent the troll an apologetic look before cleanly decapitating it in one swift slice. "Coming sweetness." he scooped up the loot and jogged over to where she had sat herself down on a rocky outcrop. "Now what would be so important to worry my delicate flower so." He bent down on one knee, clasped her hand delicately and gazed lovingly up at her. "Bob I need you to focus." The knights proud shoulders drooped as he stood up again, the seriousness of her tone destroying the atmosphere he was creating. He pouted sullenly. "Come on Ethel, how many times do I have to tell you. Here I''m not Bob, I am..." He cleared his throat and put on an overly dramatic tone, "...The Noble Knight Sir Glorious; Valiant Champion of Lugh God of Light and War, while you. You are my busty, trusty, ever ready and nigh indispensible Cleric: The Holy Woman Celestaphim. Who bestows upon all the Goddess Freya''s graceful blessing all while exemplifying her beauty and abundance." He struck a pose and closed his eyes, as though waiting for applause. "Quite finished?" His long suffering wife sighed and patted a spot next to her on the rock as her husbanded nodded forlornly and shuffled his way to her side. She guided his head to rest on her shoulder and took one of his steel gauntleted hands in hers. He stroked it gently. "It''s about our son." He jerked his head off her shoulder and stared her straight in the eyes, she was still the same woman he had fallen in love with even if the years had worn their marks on her. "Jon''s a man now. You can''t be running after him forever just to clean up his messes." She knew he was right but what mother doesn''t worry about their child; regardless of age. He would always be her special little guy, who cried whenever he fell over and wouldn''t sleep unless she rocked him while singing his favourite lullaby. Bob Cyr looked at his wife, her blissful face meant she had clearly gotten lost in her rose coloured memories and he decided it was time, as the head of the family, to put his foot down. "You will not interfere while he''s Online Ethel." The stern tone broken her from her dream state. As the words and tone sank in her face darkened and she responded with her own stern tone; a face like thunder. "Robert Vincent Cyr if you think for one moment that I''ll stand by while......" He waved his hands in a submissive manner to try to calm her down. "I don''t mean it like that. I mean what single guy wants to go questing and hunting with his parents. With his mother constantly healing his every scratch..." She interjected, still a little peeved at him. "and a father who always tries to show of how cool he is even though his son is almost 30." Her words stung more than the double critical hit of the troll he had just fought but they both started to chuckle and soon there were two players sitting on a rock in the middle of a mountain pass just laughing at nothing in particular. The laughter naturally petered out as both of them understood that their sons well being had been on both their minds. The Knight in shining full plate armour, his helmet plume bobbing in the breeze, gently took both hands of the maiden Cleric beside him in his own. "Promise me you won''t go running across the Continent to register him as a Friend just to whisper him every few minutes." Of course she had wanted to be there to try to re-live those first few memories that all parents cherish. His first steps out of the starter town; his first hunt. She wanted to be there when he celebrated his first victory or to nurse him through his first death. She wanted to approve of the first party he brought home and to send him off to his first dungeon or siege or raid with a teary eyed smile. Those kinds of irreplaceable memories. "...Ethel." Her husband prompted softly. "Fine. I promise. Now darling we should hurry those vile trolls will have re-spawned and we still need to collect another 100 of their teeth for our quest." She stood up, dusted off her tight robe and grasped her ceremonial mace with both hands. He watched the light play across her hair as she shook it loose, he was still watching mesmerized as she began to walk away, back down the mountain sheep path to the troll den they were camping. She paused and gave a slightly irritated backward glance. The Knight sensing his cue unsheathed his sword and held it aloft. Sunlight glinting off the finely honed and well polished blade. "ONWARD~~" He cried in a sing song voice. ''Geez, Bob. Seriously.'' She sighed as her husband of some thirty years, the retired plumber from the East coast, pranced past her. Once more full of boundless energy he raised his shield to rally a charge at the nearest brute. ********* Eight days later Ogre once again appeared in the jungle basin. He had purposefully waited an extra day before logging back in so that it coincided with the end of the week. That meant three full days, or rather twelve, of grinding back the single level he had lost. His throw skill had lost a few percent and his endurance and fighting spirit had also decreased. The stat points he had gained upon hitting level ten he hadn''t actually distributed yet so losing them made no real difference. Apart from his level, skills and stats he had also lost some items. When he scanned through his inventory he noticed the only things to drop had been some trophy pelts and claws. They were easily replaced during his hunt. The most devastating blow was that his beloved war club had sunk to only a few points of durability. He didn''t yet have the pre-requisite strength to wield the weapon he''d looted from the ogre scouts. To try to cheer himself up a bit he looked over the spoils he''d taken in his last fight against the Jungle Fiends. Between the three of them he had picked up one wooden tribal mask, three of their ''Magic'' pouches and a small bag of twenty strips of Jungle Jerky. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. It was chewy, fairly tasty and would be a welcome replacement for his rye bread; that was down to its last couple chunks. He stowed his faithful wooden hammer in his inventory and to compensate loaded one of his small bags with as much pebbles as it could hold. It was one of the bags he''d taken from the Field of the Fallen, made of a sturdy leather and had a long draw string. If it came down to it he would have no trouble swinging it around like a flail. With his preparations complete he turned and headed into the dense undergrowth, brushing aside a large frond as he entered the clammy darkness. Eight days later he exited the tightly packed jungle fauna and began his ascent of the cliff face. His hunt had been successful and Ogre had regained the stats he lost plus more. His throw skill, now being his primary weapon, also gained a level and he had cleared the level ten hurdle thanks to the stealthy ambush of a Jungle Stalker. The large sabre tooth panther like creature had assaulted him after he had just finished battling several Tiki gnomes. The large Jungle predator had decided not to exert itself too much, it would kill the heavily wounded victor at the height of their celebration. What the big cat hadn''t counted on was taking several stones the size of fists to the flank as it stalked around the wounded Ogre. Even as he was recovering from the effects of curse magic he had been vigilant in watching his surroundings. He didn''t want a repeat of his first death; too caught up in bloodlust to remember the basics like watch your health. The sleek black feline had pounced from the tree line but Ogres accurate throws stalled it in mid air, giving him time to draw his club, before he pounded on it. The Jungle Stalker had dropped a set of razor sharp fangs that Jon felt sure could be made into a decent weapon. With a final worthy trophy added to his pack he decided it was time to return to the village. He put his new points straight into his strength stat, bringing it to 100. This allowed him to equip the new club weapon at least, once the war club and his old three pound lumber were repaired he could sell them on, even for a few copper. This new club was a thicker version of his three pound lumber and it was called "Ten Pound Lumber". It required a strength of 100 to swing but it had the best damage of anything he''d seen so far; 15 - 18. Objectively it was a trash weapon in the eyes of other players. By the time they had raised a character with at least the 100 strength required they were far beyond the level range and were looking for weapons that dealt 150 - 180 points of damage. That was fine, people tended to forget that the Jungle Basin was the Barbarian starting zone and hunting in it was akin to crushing rabbits and foxes in other starter zones. It was this environment that shaped the next generation of Barbarian warriors. With the new club slung over his shoulder Ogre attempted to scale the sheer vertical wall before him. Hand over hand he inched his way up the rocky surface. ********** The grizzled Barbarian Trainer paced nervously back and forth, over the beast skin rug, in his home. It had been several weeks since he had sent the young Barbarian soaring over the edge and down into the jungle basin below. He had at least stayed to ensure he was still alive. If the young man had died from the fall he would have been in some serious trouble. At first he hadn''t worried too much. A few days in the jungle was nothing; a week was just too short to really hunt a good trophy; two weeks was just about right. Three; well he must just be taking his time. ''He should be back soon. '' Every day since then the anxiety had grown a little more in the Instructors belly as he repeated that phrase over and over under his breathe, beady eyes scanning the cliff edge. Old Kang would have mounted a search party but that would mean informing his wife and he had been pacing since dawn in order to work up the courage to do exactly that. A small voice at the back of his mind actually hoped that if he deliberated for long enough then the boy would return by himself. He was to engrossed in his thoughts to see the figure looming at the window, only looking up when a strange shadow blocked the light entering the room. "BOOOOO" His eyes came upon the soulless eyes of a being that should not be there. "Jungle Fiend!!!" He cried, falling backwards on the floor, one hand clutching his chest. Years of endurance training and his own battle hardened senses stopped him from having a heart attack, if only barely. He stole a cautious glance at the great sword hanging on the wall, judging the distance he would have to cover. It happened in an instant. The Jungle Fiend let out a sound and the Old Warrior lunged across the room, knocking the sword from the wall hooks as he dived behind a table he up-righted in the motion. With his back to the hard wood he tightened his grip on his Oldest friend. A sound reached his straining ears but it wasn''t the usual blast of air that he had expected from their lethal blow pipes. No it was the unmistakable sound of laughter. "Hahaha... your face.....thought I was a real....hahaha....." The old man poked his head over the table edge to see the Jungle Fiends trade mark tribal mask sitting at a jaunty angle on the head of the very youth he was waiting for. Jon wiped away a few more tears from his eyes as he watched the Fearsome Instructor climb out from behind the table. ''That''ll teach you to kick people off of cliff''s'' he thought as he returned the Trophy mask to his inventory, such a prank had only come to him half way up the cliff face but he had let it ferment as he climbed, a wicked smile plastered on his face.
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Update Hello. It¡¯s me ShamelessLeech. Been awhile. Thank you for all your support, I appreciate all the feedback and support. I was always giddily waited for comments on new chapters. To see if you liked the last chapter, thought the direction I was taking was wrong or adamantly refused to believe that character would act like that. Some of that was, of course, related to the plot or twists further down the road but some of it made me stop and consider my fiction again from a new perspective. It allowed the world I had crafted to deepen.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Unfortunately, as is often the case, [REAL LIFE] has gotten in the way. My creative juices have been sapped completely and I was truthfully always someone who enjoyed reading more than writing. So with this new year upon us, I¡¯ve decided to prune back my fictions in an attempt to finish one, or any, of them. As such I will be removing and heavily editing the fictions found on this site. *Bows Deeply* Thank you for all the hard work and I look forward to working with you again.