Earl says: where is T.H.?

  Ticklebiscuits says: were*

  Pooman says: other region

  Earl says: How do I get there?

  Ticklebicuits says: your moms house

  Player Ticklebiscuits has been blocked

  Senorfrenchfries says: you could walk. it’s north east of here.

  Hunkahunka says: you could also take the elf portal, but it’s in human territory. The other side is also in human territory. you should walk, nevermind.

  I open my map, expanding it to a view of the whole continent. The area I’m in is called “The Civilized territories”. The area to the north east is “The Kingdom of Man.”

  Earl says: Where is the dungeon specifically

  Ticklebiscuitz says: the clitoris

  Player Ticklebiscuitz has been blocked

  Hunkahunka says: if you cross over at the nearest border to Masstaoir, keep heading east. eventually you’ll pass by the human capital and end up at their landfill. That's the dungeon. If you see the ocean you’ve gone too far.

  You have added Hunkahunka as a friend.

  I start multitasking by opening menus and running at the same time. At level twenty six, I have sixteen points, two of which are already invested, so fourteen left over. To unlock the next row of talents I have to invest three points into Telekinetic Taunt. Something called “tiers” unlocks as well, expanding Telekinetic Taunt’s utility. Tier two allows me to route the taunt though my weapon. Tier three allows me to taunt multiple targets, but incurs a longer cooldown. With five points invested into Telekinetic Taunt, and eleven points left over, the next row appears.

  Intervention - Medium Cooldown - Command your weapon to intercept a melee attack made against an ally.

  Distribute - Long Cooldown - Very Short Duration - Half of damage dealt to you is redirected to your weapon for a short time.

  The Distribute ability gives me pause. “Do you have a health bar?” I ask Esquire.

  Forgive me sir but I haven't the faintest idea of what that means.

  If something attacks you, do you take damage?

  Pah! No foe could hope to lay a finger on me. I am indestructible.

  Durability notwithstanding, I think to myself.

  So the spell is just a fancy way of saying I take half damage. That's helpful. I invest five points into it, unlocking the additional tiers of “Two thirds of damage is redirected” at three points, and “All damage is redirected” at five points. That will come in handy. Five points isn't enough to unlock the next row this time, so despite having little use for it, I also invest five points into Intervention. It evolves so that my weapon can get in the way of spells as well. It also gives me the option to reflect the spell, though it triggers an additional cooldown time. I have one point left for the next row and three options to choose from.

  Tornado Edge - Long Cooldown - Short Duration - Command your weapon to spin in a stationary location. it damages all enemies within range for a short time.

  Illusory Clone - Short Cooldown - Short duration - Your weapon is wielded by a copy of yourself. Non-boss enemies can target the clone.

  Sword Dance - Nearby allies deal 10% more damage.

  I pick Illusory Clone so quickly, the other two options may as well not exist. Near the outskirts of Masstaoir, I pause my mad dash to test out the new ability. Drawing Esquire, I let him float out of my hand a few feet away. A hazy purple image comes into focus; a walking tank of an orc, covered head to toe in shiny, etched armor. An indistinguishable copy of me. It's a little unnerving if I'm being honest with myself. However, this ability combined with the taunt makes it so I'll never have to engage non-boss enemies in melee again. “That's sick.”

  It is an honor to bear your image, sir. I shall bring no shame to your name as I slay enemies in thy stead.

  You betcha. Withdrawing Esquire, I rush into Masstoair, deciding to stop by the inn finally. Even in this game world, it’s late at night, few torches line the street, guiding my way to the well-lit inn. It's practically empty at this time of night too, thankfully. “Bert!” I greet him as I walk through the entrance.

  “Greetings adventurer” Bert responds, stiffly. “Can I offer you a drink? Maybe a hot meal?”

  “Bert it’s me, Earl.” I frown, worried that something terrible has happened to him.

  “I always recognize the face of a returning hero” he says without inflection. I feel a heavy impact on my side. I turn to see Toebark eyeing me.

  “Don’t you know what time of day it is? You’re being too loud today” Toebark admonishes me without making eye contact. Oh. They’re trying to tell me they can’t speak freely until tuesday. I had almost forgotten what it was like being an N.P.C. like them.

  “Another time then” I smile sadly, turning to leave.

  “Before you go, Adventurer.” Bert stops me. I turn back and watch him reach for something in the massive fireplace with tongs. A red-hot coal. He places it on the ground, then points one open palm toward it, and the other towards me. He closes his eyes for a moment. The coal is suddenly drained of its heat, and becomes a bleach white, rounded rock. “This is a Hertston” he picks it up, without burning his palm, and hands it to me. “Use it if you ever want to come back in a hurry.”

  Herston added to inventory

  Hertston - Extremely Long Cooldown - Very Long Cast Time - Use: Channel the fires of home. Teleport back to the bound location.

  Current bound location: The Tusk Boar Inn

  I nod a silent thanks. Before leaving, I stop by Jack’s Junkporium, selling all of the accumulated loot I've gathered from the dungeon. Without genuine interaction, he pays me a mere six gold for all of it. He gives no indication that he’s anything but a run-of-the-mill N.P.C. I smile down at him, understanding his caution, before I leave.

  Departing through the front gate, I make it to the border quickly. It's marked by a wide no-man’s land, both sides fortified with bunkers and guards along a trench. I slow down to a walk towards the western fortifications.

  “Get down!” an orc in standardized armor yells at me, just before I hear the ding! of an arrow ricochet off of my helmet.

  “Ow” I say, more in surprise than pain. Like every other attack made against me that wasn't straight up cheating, it did not damage me. The orc that tried to prevent my certain death waits patiently in the trench, a gray exclamation point hovering over his head. “Oh god damn it.” I didn't turn in the quest to the Honorlord, and it’s not the kind I can turn in remotely. I turn around, running all the way back to Masstoair, through the street, and back up to the fortress palace. I try to brush myself off and steady my breathing before I face him again.

  Once I've made it through the dining hall, I am face to face with someone near the throne who is neither the Honorlord or his son. “Uh, Good evening, miss.” She turns to face me, a bored, disinterested expression on her face. She wears similar decorative metal armor to the Honorlord and his son, an axe strapped to her back as well. She has loose, jet black hair and olive green skin, another familial similarity. Where they differ is the huge burn scar crawling up her neck and across her cheek. I try not to stare at the pock-marked flesh.

  Lagakh, First Daughter of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

  “Can I help you, adventurer?” she yawns.

  “Yes ma'am, I need to turn in a quest to the Honorlord. Is he around?” I ask nervously.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “He's sleeping.” She doesn't say anything else, leaving me squirming awkwardly. A small smile creeps up on her face. “You can turn it in with me.”

  “Oh, cool. Thanks. Well, I went to the elf fortress and killed everything inside, elf, tree, or otherwise.” This process is a lot easier when the quest giver isn't sentient.

  “Oh really?” She steps down from the throne platform, walking a circle around me. She takes in my armor, and stops in front of me after one revolution. “How?”

  “I used my sword.” I say, hoping I don't come across as a smart-ass.

  “An orc with a sword. How interesting.” She looks down at Esquire. They rattle in their sheath. “Stolen from a human’s corpse, I bet.” She looks back up into my eyes. “I’d be interested to watch you swing it.” She smirks, with an implicating look in her eyes.

  “Haha, I’m married” I laugh nervously. It’s not just a convenient lie, I have a family somewhere, right? I wish I knew.

  “A shame.” She walks away from me, back to the side of the throne. “Take this and go.” she tosses a bag of coins overhand, and I don't manage to catch them. She openly laughs at me.

  Purge the Fortress completed! Experience gained.

  You receive 5 gold.

  Mark of the Honorlord added to inventory.

  You’ve reached level 27!

  Strength increased by 8%!

  Agility increased by 8%!

  Intelligence increased by 8%!

  I check out my loot, it seems like a sort of crude passport of painted metal. It’s a good thing I came back or I wouldn't be allowed to leave this territory.

  “You be careful out there, man-slayer.” She snaps off what I assume to be a salute, knocking twice on her right shoulder armor with her right knuckles. A gesture that would be impossible without impractical, oversized shoulder pads.

  “You too, uh, princess”

  Her jaw drops at my response, and my eyes go wide in terror. After a moment that feels like an eternity, she closes her mouth.

  “You come back alive so I can teach you a lesson.” She looks at me like a piece of meat, steaming on a table in front of her. I shiver before speed-walking straight out of the fortress, and the front entrance of the city for the second time in an hour.

  I make it back to the trenches, get shot in the head again, ping!, and drop down next to the questgiver orc.

  “We’re pinned down and losing ground out there, recruit. We need one big push to get the humans out of our territory. Are you ready?” he shouts over the sound of fireball impacts overhead, raining dirt onto our heads.

  “You got it. Let’s do this.” I draw esquire, positioning myself to vault over the edge.

  CHAAAAARGE! accepted.

  Push the enemy line back 0/1

  “CHAAAAARGE!” The orc bellows, raising his axe as he ascends followed by his troops. I pull ahead of them pretty quickly, preparing myself to face off against the enemy troops on the other side.

  “My leg!” Someone shouts behind me, I turn around just long enough for the enemy to get a bead on me and take the shot.

  Fireball reflected by Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer.

  Who? Oh, that’s my shield. I totally forgot I had that thing. Does it reflect spells? I pull up my character menu and inspect it.

  Mirood, Shield of the Mage-Killer - Epic One-handed Shield - Unique Equip - Requires Level 90 - Strength Maxiumum - Maximum blunt Damage - Maximum armor

  Chance to reflect spells made against you back at their caster.

  Cool beans, an anti-magic shield. If I didn't have my Intervention ability that did the same thing I'd be in desperate need of this shield. Although it doesn’t have a cooldown, Intervention does, and I can’t use it on myself. I draw it from my back, and strap it to my left arm. Charging forward, notifications spam my chat of spells being sent back one after another, along with experience for the deaths of the casters. Nice.

  It doesn't take long for me to reach the enemy line. The Humans, all in the same armor, move to attack me. I hesitate to fight back. I was human, I know that now. It’s different, ending another human's life. They aren't like boars, or treants, or even elves. These are my people, originally. I'd be taking a life…

  Have at thee!

  Esquire glides through the first of the attackers, coming to a stop behind them and materializing his illusory copy of me. The clone swordsman takes on a fencing stance, parrying and stabbing rapidly though my enemies. Well, he has no reservations at least. I feel impacts around my midsection, so I look down.

  “??? ??? ????!” They shout at me. I haven't the faintest idea what they said. If I had to guess, they said something incredibly disrespectful about my mother. In dwarvish? They have a huge, braided beard hanging out from under their helmet. A hammer, much too large in their hands, slams into me with the force of a furious kitten paw. I retaliate by slamming my shield into them.

  The top two thirds of the dwarf go flying back into their trench, as his muddy boots remain behind, still foot-filled. “Ew.”

  Push the enemy line back 1/1

  I look around, finding only carnage. Esquire, left to their own devices, slew every human, dwarf, and elf in sight. “Thanks for doing all of the hard work, Esquire.”

  My pleasure sir.

  The clone holding the blade dissipates before Esquire flies back into my sheath with a satisfying clink. A cheer goes up behind me, the orcish line only most of the way here before we finished up. “The Civilization claims victory!” The orc, now with a yellow question mark over his head, announces. Is that what our team is called? Is it supposed to be ironic? We’re mud-drenched monsters. I turn in the quest and loot my spoils. The orc gives me another quest that sounds… unsavory.

  Put down the Rebellion accepted.

  Trashcan King Girvats Slain 0/1

  I’ll worry about it when I get there. I hop over the enemy trench, entering their territory.

  The Kingdom of Man discovered. Experience gained.

  Enemy territory entered. Player versus player enabled until you leave hostile territory.

  That doesn't sound good. I run east, hoping to avoid any unnecessary conflict.

  Polymorph resisted.

  Oh great. I look around, trying to spot whoever tried that, without stopping.

  Polymorph resisted

  I wield my shield, hoping to send the spell back. The casting stops for a few quiet moments, before the notifications roll in again.

  Magic Missile Deflected

  Magic Missle Defelcted

  Magic Missle Reflected

  “??? ??????!” A human shouts from my right. The last in a series of his spells came back and caught him in the chest.

  Baloney the Sheepmancer. level 90 Wizard

  His name, level, and class hover over his head. Level ninety, huh? A super high level player picking on lowly old me? You’ll regret that, asshole. I throw Esquire in his direction, even though I didn't miss, the blade does not make contact. His body shimmers, vanishing, and reappears five feet closer to me.

  “???? ???.” he says, smirking. I smirk right back as I cast Recall. Esquire whistles through the air, and punches a hole through the player.

  Player Baloney slain. Rank: Corporal. 100 Human Bones gained.

  That’ll learn ya. Human bones? Eugh. I don’t see them in my inventory though. Looking around my menus, I find a new tab under my character menu, labeled “Currency”. The only one I have so far is Human Bones. Gold is differently categorized, I guess.

  Polymorph resisted

  Are you kidding me? I scan my surroundings until I spot him again. This time, I walk right up to him, and cleanly decapitate him in one swing. 100 more bones. I wait around a while and guess this time he got the message, he doesn't come after me again. Running eastward, I come to a dead stop after receiving a private message.

  Civbaloney says: Reported.

  Earl says: What? To whom? Why?

  Civbaloney says: you’re level 27 and clearly cheating.

  Earl says: you’re the one attacking new players, asshole.

  Civbaloney says: reported for language.

  Earl says: What a baby. Can’t take what you dish out? Try picking on someone your own size next time, fucker.

  Player has blocked you.

  Character does not exist.

  I message him again but receive that response. I hope nothing comes of it. Who's he going to call, the cops? They don’t care what happens in a game. What an idiot. My blood runs cold as I realize who’s the idiot in this situation.

  “You?” the voice crackles with static. I turn to face the Monitor, horrified. “This level 27 bitch named Earl is cheating. He's a dickless orc on the Trashheap server. Come take care of this hacking asshole, assholes.” The Monitor reads the report aloud. “Such vulgarity. I think I'll ban him for say… three days.”

  “Really?” I ask no one. The Monitor has already vanished. “Oh kay…” I back away slowly, transitioning to a full sprint after a few moments. I rush through the no-man's land too quickly to get a good look at it. At a glance, there wasn't much to see. Churned mud and scattered equipment, like a well-trodden battlefield. The forests in human territory are less wild than the ones in Civilization territory. Sparse where it hasn't been harvested, instead of completely untamed. I sneak past lumber camps and small settlements, not stopping to observe the goings on of their human lives in simple wooden cottages with thatched roofs. Through the brush, I follow alongside the road leading away, until I arrive at a stinking, filthy pile of refuse.

  Revinia Kingdom Disposal Site discovered. Experience gained.

  You’ve reached level 28!

  Strength increased by 8%!

  Agility increased by 8%!

  Intelligence increased by 8%!

  I dump a third point into Illusory Clone and keep moving. Now it can make multiple clones for multiple weapons, but I don't have more weapons that meet the requirements; floating and sentient, so it’s irrelevant.

  “You won’t make it far!” I hear an orcish voice shout, followed by screams. I follow the sounds to a small gathering of orcs and goblins. An orc, wearing ornamental armor, stands with one boot on the head of a goblin in the dirt. “Theft will not be tolerated. Running is punishable by death.”

  Wudhagh, Second Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer. Level ??

  I read the name over his head as he presses the goblin’s head into the ground, producing garbled screams. The goblins standing around them watch on in terrified silence.

  “Esquire?” I whisper, still staring at the orc.

  Yes, sir?

  We can't let this injustice stand.

  They are of noble birth, sir.

  That doesn’t matter. They can’t treat people this way.

  As you say, sir. I am yours to wield.

  Without another thought, I charge in, Esquire held high. Wudhagh doesn't have a chance to respond before I bring the blade down on the nape of his neck.

  Twang!

  The blowback almost shakes Esquire out of my grip. I barely hold on after Wudhagh uses the flat side of his axe to send me flying across the work camp.

  “Insolence!” he shouts, taking one heavy step towards my crumpled form. “Insubordination!” he stomps forward further. “I am your judge, and the sentence is death!” he closes the distance, and with one swing of his massive axe, my head falls cleanly from my shoulders, rolling across the ground. My vision spins nauseatingly.

  You’ve died.