I wake up whole again in my store. I slam my fist into the counter, sending dust, dander, and hair flying from the stacked pelts. “Damn it.” I swear to myself. I couldn't lay a finger on him, and if the title and description of the quest are any indication, my side are not the good guys in this upcoming dungeon. Maybe we’re not the good guys anywhere. We are monsters, after all. I think about the elves, just defending their precious forests, and the boars, wandering aimlessly after we had cleared away their homes. Son of a bitch, we’re the baddies.

  Peter says: Yo!

  Earl says: Hey Peter.

  Peter says: hows it going dude?

  Earl says: Just died.

  Peter says: oh bummer. what happened?

  Earl says: I tried to attack one of the Honorlords sons.

  Peter says: why?

  Earl says: He was hurting a defenseless goblin.

  Peter says: oh. well you can't hurt them until you hit max level for that expansion, 70.

  Earl says: Can I skip the quest to hurt the goblins in the dump?

  Peter says: uh… no. you have to do all story quests in order, every expansion.

  Peter says: hey let me invite you to a group and we can hop in voice chat

  Peter has invited you to a group.

  You have joined Peter’s group.

  Peter has invited you to join a voice chat channel - Group.

  You have joined Channel - Group.

  “Yo” Peter says. I hear his voice in my ears like I'm wearing headphones.

  “Hey” I say aloud.

  “Can you hear me?” Peter asks

  “Yes.” I say aloud. He does not respond long enough for me to think I need to intentionally speak in the chat feature. “Yes” I repeat, this time willing my voice into an imaginary microphone.

  “Sweet. Yo, you hit level twenty eight? Dude you’re so far ahead of me!” Peter exclaims, level eighteen himself. “How?”

  “I cleared the elf fortress a dozen times.” I respond, exiting my shop while we talk. Peter is where I left him, in the upper city outside of the Honorlord’s fortress. I realize for the first time his beard stubble isn’t any longer, and neither is the hair on his head. I don’t know if his satyr leg hair would grow any longer than it was to start out with. Has my hair grown at all? I don't think so.

  “You must have run into a good group. Or a few good groups.” Peter’s dot on the map starts moving towards me.

  “Actually, the only group I went in with kicked me after we all died on the final boss.” I recall. “I cleared it alone.”

  “Yeah that happens, people are impatient jerks who don’t tolerate mistakes. Dang your gear really gives you a huge advantage.” he nods his head in greeting as we meet in the middle. “So what's the plan?”

  “If I want to progress, I guess we make our way back to the dump and do the damn quest, even if it’s immoral. Did you know The Civilization were bad guys when you started playing?” I ask, frowning as Peter laughs.

  “There aren't any good guys this early in the story. It's like a medieval era government. If you weren't a king, you were a slave. The people who are in charge of keeping the other slaves in line think they aren't slaves themselves, but they’re wrong.” Peter smiles after his long speech, seeing the look of approval on my face.

  “You've got good grades in history, don't you?” I hadn't considered Peter might be a pretty smart kid behind his character. He knows a lot about this game, but that doesn't always translate into real-world intellect.

  “History and English.” he says, beaming. “Don’t talk to me about math or science. Absolute rubbish.” he shrugs his shoulders.

  “I think I was too.” I say, thinking hard. It seems right.

  “You think so?” Peter tilts his head, curious.

  “I can’t remember all that well. Hishschool was a long time ago, you know?” a half-truth.

  “Oh yeah you’re ancient” he laughs at my scowling face. “Sorry, I'll respect my elders.”

  “Let's get going.” I turn to leave, not angry, but willing to let him think I am if he does.

  “Boy, I wish I could use my mounts.” he jogs beside me.

  “You have mounts? I thought they were only for level twenty players.” I say, realizing I'm far past the point where I could have a mount.

  “Sure, I have a level ninety wizard, remember? I have a bunch of mounts, some rare drops too.” he sends a message in the group chat that looks different from any I'd ever seen. The word [Syrup] appears in brackets, and it’s a purple, denoting it’s epic rarity. “Like that. It's a flying turtle mount. It's a crossover promo mount from an anime." I focus on the word in my chat for a few seconds, and my character menu opens on a new tab, “Collection”, in the subsection “Mounts”. Like Peter said, Syrup is a flying turtle mount I have not collected. Its smiling face was very simple, standing out in this highly-detailed game. There are hundreds of mounts, greyed out on the list. Monsters and beasts of all shapes and sizes, some impractical, some well-suited to the task. Horses, boars, sharks, you name it, there is a mount. “Did you get one yet?”

  “How do I?” I ask, noting the details under each mount in the menu. All of the ones I see drop from a boss I've never heard of, or cost exorbitant amounts of gold. They cost more than a month of game time in some cases.

  “Follow me!” he says, turning quickly. I follow him into an area of the city I haven't explored, closer to the upper end, but not quite in it. We arrive at a structure with the trappings of a stable, but with an orcish, crude twist. Where there should be smooth, wooden walls, there is mud, rocks, and untreated logs. An orc with a shovelful of shit walks out to meet us.

  Stablemaster Wokganit level 90.

  “Greetings. Here for a mount?” the orc asks. He flings the load into a growing pile outside. He’s a conscious N.P.C. I’ll have to act like I'm speaking with a real person to get anywhere.

  “Yes,” I answer. “How much?” he scoffs in response.

  “An orc does not purchase a warg.” he walks up to an overgrown wolf, presumably a warg, and scratches it under the chin. “You earn their respect. Only then may you ride them into battle.”

  “Understood, apologies for my ignorance. How do I begin the bonding process?” I walk with him as he waves me inside. He stops me in the exact middle, holding me by both shoulders. I feel like I'm in a beauty pageant for warg entertainment. We both wait in silence for a moment, before one of the beasts huffs in its stall. We both turn to face it, an enormous, brown warg with yellow eyes. It stands up and walks to me, sniffing the air. It howls, an ear-shattering sound too close to my head, and the other wolves follow its lead, howling in turn.

  “This warg shall accompany you in combat. Should you prove worthy of her companionship, she will stay by your side until death.” he pats in wolf between her ears.

  “Thank you” I say, putting out a fist for the warg to sniff. She does, satisfied.

  Bonding With Your Warg accepted!

  Defeat enemies alongside your warg 0/100

  “That's so cool. So cultural." Peter remarks as we pass by him waiting outside.

  “Guess I won’t be getting anywhere fast yet, though.” I sigh. Thinking about it, I would leave Peter in the dust if I had a mount already.

  “No, but you get a cool new friend and a killer quest to complete.” he tries to pet my warg, earning a threatening growl. “By the way, I have to clear E.F. first.”

  “Right.” I say, remembering I did that part without him present. We leave the city to the west, making our way back to the elf territory.

  “There's also a saddle that functions as an armory. You can store back up weapons on your mount." Peter finishes his explanation of every piece of mount equipment in the game. armor, full or partial. Saddles. Flags. He goes on and on until we reach the dungeon. It’s just as easy to clear with Peter tagging along, though I purposefully drag my feet. I do not want another visit from the Monitor.

  The last boss drops hilarious adam-and-eve-esque modesty leaf “pants”. Peter takes and equips them, due to the agility bonus it gives. His hairy goat legs already protect his satyr modesty, adding the leaf on top just makes it more suggestive somehow. He uses something called “Glamour” to make his pants appear as leather armor instead.

  With that wardrobe malfunction dealt with, we return to Masstaoir to turn in Peter’s completed quest. From outside of the Honorlord’s fortress, I notice Lagakh is no longer waiting by the throne. I guess her shift is over, they must switch every twelve hours. The Honorlord and his son talk to Peter, sending him away on the next quest quickly. We despart the city towards the east.

  While we run, Peter tells me all about the time he killed somthing called “Fistpounder” to get a gorilla mount. Apparently it appears rarely, and when it does, hundreds of people swarm it, killing the thing so fast that if you aren't there in seconds, you miss out. He said he’ll show me the mount when he reaches level twenty.

  I reach the front line for the third time today, with Peter in tow for his first visit.

  “Get down!” the frontline commander orc yells again, and I don’t react quickly enough, again. Ping! “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 asks Peter.

  “I have to do this again?” I ask, hands on my hips.

  “Yeah, I haven't done it yet, and the Group defaults to the least progressed player.” Peter accepts the quest, and readies himself to hop over the trench. “But don’t worry, I've done this before.”

  “Chaaaaarge!” The orc bellows. Peter and the troops jump, charging forward. I stand back, watching. I open my talents to see what I can spend points on, but only invest one point into Tornado Edge before screaming catches my attention.

  “My leg!” shouts the same orc that got hit last time. Peter turns to him, like I did, except Peter doesn't have any means to protect himself from the incoming fireball.

  “Ah shit” I say, running. I use my Intervention ability, Esquires whistles through the air to intercept the fireball, batting it back like a car-sized baseball. The wizard who cast the spell is incinerated on impact.

  “Thanks for the save!” Peter shouts as I catch up. We charge together, with me in front, deflecting spells and blocking arrows with my shield. Once we reach the enemy line, we cut down the ranged attackers. With only melee combatants left, my warg joins the fray. She bites into the shoulder of a swordsman, who slashes at her side with his free arm. Her health drops fast.

  “Hey!” I shout at him. That gesture was enough for the game to interpret my desire to use Telekinetic Taunt. He looks pissed, and at me, despite my warg still having a mouthful of his shoulder. He still moves to attack me, even though he’s completely pinned in place. Eventually he succumbs to the injury, without ever reaching me.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Nice!” Peter yells, just before going translucent. He sneaks towards a pikeman who’s moving to engage my warg. Peter appears behind him suddenly, planting two daggers in his back. The pikeman turns his attention to Peter. More soldiers surround him, slashing and stabbing. I don't let them deal much damage before casting Tornado Edge. Esquire teleports to the spot I'm looking at, just under Peter. Esquire begins spinning, turning the ground into a blender. The humans are cut at the ankles, then knees, then hips, on and on until they are minced into a pile of pieces, resting in a circle around Peter. Friendly fire is impossible, so Esquire passes harmlessly though his knees every pass.

  “What the heck was that?” Peter turns to me, showered in blood.

  “Tornado Edge. I unlocked it on my talent tree." I inform him.

  “Dude Weaponmaster is so cool.” he smiles, jogging off to engage with the remaining enemy forces. Once we’re done, I check on my progress with my warg.

  Defeat enemies alongside your warg 34/100

  Pretty good. I join Peter with the cheering troops as he turns in his quest. He nods, and we depart the bloody battlefield, and cross over the border. As we walk, Peter tells me about his school day. He complains about his school-provided virtual reality equipment, comparing the specs to his new immersion rig. I wouldn't want to be able to see every pore on my teacher’s face, but to each his own.

  “You’re lucky you get to go to school” I remind him.

  “I know. It was free back in your day right?” he tries to say without calling me old again, failing.

  “Yeah. before the D.O.E. was defunded. What do your parents do?” I watch our surroundings as we’re talking.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but…” he starts to speak.

  Peter has been slain.

  What? I turn, and he’s crumpled on the ground, several wounds on his back. Suddenly I feel blows being deflected off of my own back, the armor too strong to be penetrated.

  Tricorn, But You Have Heard of Me. Level 90

  An elf dressed like a pirate is attempting to stay behind me as I turn to face him. His cutlass pathetically dings and sparks off of me. “You asshole.” I hold my empty fist in his direction, in a stabbing motion. “I've been curious about something. Are you willing to help me experiment?” I ask, assuming he can’t understand me. Though maybe he can, and I just can’t understand anything the humans or their allies say. That would be unfair though.

  I cast Summon Weapon and Esquire appears in my hand. Just as I thought, collision is not factored into the spell. The blade materializes buried in the pirate’s chest. He dies instantly, wetly sliding off onto the ground. More bones for me.

  “I hate gankers.” Peter says, appearing next to me, healthy and whole.

  “Is that a slur for elves?” I ask

  “No!” he says defensively. “It's just what you call high level players that kill lower level players. they don’t even get anything out of it. Any more than a ten level discrepancy, and there's no reward.”

  “I got another hundred bones for him. Elf bones this time.” I look at them in my currency tab.

  “You killed other players?’ Peter asks, kicking the pirate’s body.

  “Just one. A sheepmancer, who reported me for hacking and swearing. Killed him twice.” I also look at my two hundred human bones.

  “Reported for hacking? What a sore loser. Just because you’re in broken, overpowered armor doesn't mean you’re hacking. He needs to git gud." The last pair of words come out sharply. I laugh at them, finding the phrase funny without knowing why.

  “I haven't heard that in a while.” I smile at the memory, vague though it may be.

  “You’ve been gaming a long time?” He asks as we get moving.

  “I think so.” I answer, he gives me a questioning look. “Alright, let's say I got a head injury and my memory is shot. Don’t question it too much.”

  “Sorry.” he says. I don’t blame him, it’s pretty bizarre that I don’t remember. If the damned Monitor would just give my memories back we could avoid awkward interactions like this.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I reassure him. Following the same path I took, we arrive at the trash pile. The same scene plays out, Wudhagh, Second Son of Honorlord Mergigoth Dragonslayer, presses a goblin’s head into the ground. Without intervention, he pushes until the head smashes like a pumpkin. I turn away, fuming. “Where is the dungeon entrance?” I ask, ready to leave.

  “This way” Peter says, moving along. We sneak around the edge of the mountain of trash, eventually reaching a free-standing portal archway near the pile. Other players stand around, pretty clearly waiting for a tank. None among them have a shield or look particularly durable. Some look tough, but there’s a certain vibe given off by players who don’t want responsibility for anything besides killing.

  “Come on, we don’t need them” I march ahead, straight through the dungeon entrance. The loading screen depicts a goblin wielding a half-broken sword, using a trash can lid as a shield, surrounded on all sides by garbage. The dungeon itself is a winding pathway through the garbage piles, leading up the mountain. The trash mobs before the boss are ambushes of goblins jumping out of the trash, ironically. They wield broken bottles and thrown-away weapons. They go down easily enough from my blows, taking much longer to deal with if I let Peter or my warg try it by themselves.

  “Nothing like a carry. I could kick my feet up and let you do all the work, but I'm going to contribute at least a little.” he says after looting a goblin. So that’s what carry means, I’m doing all of the hard work, as though I’m carrying Peter on my back. “That's the first boss.” he says, pointing at a pool of disgusting, brown fluid.

  “Where?” I try to see through the opaque liquid with no luck. Peter chuckles.

  “Just walk up to the edge, you’ll see.” he stays where he is, waiting. I follow his instructions, suddenly in combat.

  “Oh gross!” I say as the pool congreals and rises to form a humanoid diarrhea monster.

  Polluted Reservoir. Level 21

  It takes a swing at me, the nasty fist harmlessly splashing against my shield. It stinks like a septic tank. I send Esquire in, despite their protests. The blade passes through the muck, and to our surprise, the thing’s health doesn't move.

  “It's immune to slashing damage,” Peter says from a safe distance. “and piercing.”

  “What am I supposed to do then!” I shout, gagging after breathing in.

  “Got a hammer, or any spells?” he shouts back.

  “No! My only spells involve my sword in some way!” I check my inventory. Trash, trash, and more trash from the goblins. The staves from the earlier dungeon would have helped, but I sold them. I even sold my bow, not that it would do me any good now. I angrily slap the next blow away with my shield, my mouth agape as I watch the monster’s health disappear. A mistake I immediately regret, as it splashes into my open mouth as it collapses. I gag and spit as Peter makes his way over.

  Polluted Reservoir slain! Experience gained

  You’ve reached level 29!

  Strength increased by 8%!

  Agility increased by 8%!

  Intelligence increased by 8%!

  Peter has reached level 17!

  “It's a good thing the immersion rig doesn't make you see or smell really nasty stuff.” Peter kneels directly into the muck, looting the boss.

  “Mine does.” I continue spitting, trying to get all of it out. I'd kill for a glass of water right now.

  “Really?” his nose crinkles up. “I didn’t know they made rigs that do that. I don't know why you would.”

  “I don’t know why either.” I say, though I suspect the Monitor is to blame. What kind of next-gen rig hell did it trap me in? I loot the boss, receiving only silver. We move on, clearing more trash mobs until we reach the final boss at the summit of the trash mountain. “So what's this guy's deal?”

  We look down at the final boss, a goblin, wearing a trash can that has been smashed into the shape of a crown, along with scraps of metal, leather, and cloth, forming makeshift armor. He holds a shortsword, huge in his furry hands, bent severely at the tip.

  Trashcan King Girvats. Level 22

  “He dives into the trash and throws stuff at you during an immune phase.” Peter says.

  “No instant death?” I ask, wary of dying to another boss I'm unfamiliar with.

  “Nope.” He responds, waiting for me to move in.

  “Alrighty then” I say, sending my sword through the air.

  “My people will be free of orcish servitude!” The goblin squeaks, just before being knocked down to half health by esquire cutting through him. “Argh! to the waste bin with you!” He shouts at us, diving into the garbage. Glass bottles, wooden planks full of nails, and other random junk fly through the air and impact us. I don't take any damage, but Peter and my warg do.

  “I'll be ok” Peter says, popping the cork on a bottle filled with red liquid. I can only use Intervention every so often so I can't do much for my warg, even running around blocking, it’s impossible to anticipate where the next trash bolt will come from. She whips her head around growling, searching for the source of her injuries. After a minute, the goblin emerges and I let him beat on my shield for a while before retaliating.

  “I’m waiting for the warg’s health to come back a bit before I send the boss back into the trash” I tell Peter

  “Oh he only does that once” Peter tells me, stabbing the goblin repeatedly. I nod, plunging Esquire through the boss.

  Trashcan King Girvats Slain! Experience gained

  You’ve reached level 30!

  Strength increased by 16%!

  Agility increased by 16%!

  Intelligence increased by 16%!

  Peter has reached level 19!

  “My people will be free…” The goblin gurgles before letting out his last breath.

  “Don’t worry. I'll kill every last one of them for you.” I close the goblins eyes before looting him. Pocket change again.

  “Roleplaying again?” Peter asks me, looting as well.

  “Doesn't this feel wrong to you?” I ask

  “I guess because I know how this story ends I don't feel as bad.” He stops to think. “The first time I went through here I think I cried. My parents made me stop playing for the rest of the day.”

  “When was that?’ I inquire, standing to leave the dungeon.

  “Years ago. When I was a kid.” he says, following me out.

  “You’re still a kid.” I grunt.

  “Right.” He says. “What now? Go and turn in this quest?”

  “Let's run it a few more times. Get you caught up to me.” I turn to tell him the plan.

  “Oh wow thanks!” He smiles brightly.

  “It's the least I can do, you grinded me up to ten right?” I point out

  “Sure, but you don’t owe me anything.” He stops walking as we reach the entrance.

  “Still. Hey, is there anything significant about level thirty?” I stop as well.

  “Usually you get a new spell.” he tells me. “Did you?” I check my action bar, lo and behold, a new spell.

  Exchange - Trade places with your weapon.

  Short and sweet, straight to the point. I turn and throw Esquire, not seeing where they landed deep in the trash.

  Sir.

  I can’t tell if they’re pissed, or worried I’m throwing them away. I use my new spell, and suddenly find myself waist deep in used, oily towels. I use the ability again, reappearing at Peter's side. I summon Esquire back to me and sheath them.

  I desperately need to be polished.

  “Was that your new spell?” Peter asks, eyes sparkling.

  “Exchange, trade places with your weapon.” I read it aloud.

  “No cooldown? That’s easily abusable. Somebody up top is going to nerf your class into the ground some day.” he strokes his stubble beard.

  “You'd better hope not, I'm the one carrying you.” I smile, and he laughs. “Come on.” We exit and re-enter the dungeon, clear it, rinse and repeat. The bosses eventually drop some loot, but it’s useless to me, so I pay no attention to it. I keep our pace slow to avoid agitating the monitor. After Peter reaches level twenty, we take a break for him to show off his collection of mounts.

  “And this” his mount, a massive, armored hippo, disappears from under him. It is replaced by a sleek black motorcycle with tubes full of bubbly brown fluids snaked throughout. “ Is the Coke Zero Promo bike.”

  “That doesn't exactly fit in with the fantasy aesthetic” I comment.

  “Yeah, that’s fair. How far along is your mount quest?” he asks, dismounting. I had forgotten to check.

  Bonding With Your Warg complete!

  As soon as I press the button to complete the quest, my warg howls as it fades out of existence.

  Timber Warg added to your mount collection.

  I open the tab and press the button to mount. I am suddenly 5 feet higher off of the ground, on the back of my new mount. I have her trot in a little circle, then run at full speed. It’s a whole lot faster than I can run on foot.

  “Wooo!” Peter cheers, mounting a warg of his own. It’s black-furred, with matching saddle and pitch-black armor. We both slow to a stop. “So what now, boss?” he frowns at the look on my face. “What?”

  “Nothing” I tell him, trying to hide my expression. That phrase awakens a memory, clawing at the thin membrane keeping it from me. I was somebody’s boss, once, and they said that to me on a near daily basis. It must have been at the computer company I worked for. “Once I hit thirty my experience gains slowed to a crawl here. Let's turn in the quest and move on." I only reached level thirty four after a handful of runs.

  “Ok” he says. We find an orc nearby who seems in charge, but still subordinate to the Honorlord’s shitty kid.

  “Maybe this time they’ll learn there's no point in fighting.” He says, shuffling through documents, if you could call painted metal that. I grimace at his remark. “The beastmen are in need of assistance. Show our worthy allies how orcs deal with threats from within.”

  Root of All Evil accepted!

  Discover and slay the traitor 0/1

  “Let’s go” I eagerly depart the shadow of the trash mountain, mounted on my warg. “So what's the story with the goblins? How do we fix this?” I ask Peter after we have put some distance between us and the slave camp.

  “The orcs discovered the goblins during a raid into human territory. They make them dig through the dump for anything they can use to fight. Sometimes they pull out old parts that don’t seem like anything important, but the goblins tell the orcs what a gear or whatever was used for, and now the orcs know how a human trebuchet works.” he pauses as we navigate carefully around a river. “During the first expansion, Revolution, we free the goblins from their enslavement while we’re hunting down the Honorlord’s kids one-by-one.”

  “Do we kill all of them?” I ask, stone-faced.

  “Yeah, the complicit ones.” He says plainly. We ride in silence for a few minutes. I check my map and adjust our course to head south-west towards Beastlands.

  Hacker on trashheap - beware

  Forum post by Baloney - Trashheap 3/08/35 06:02 AM

  Baloney - Trashheap: There’s an orc named Earl on trashheap whos hacking. He’s level 27 and one shot my 90 mage. i couldnt hurt him either. after i reported him, i got a 3 day ban for language. it doesnt make any sense, unless the montiers are playing favorites. mass report him and boost this post so they know we wont put up with it!

  Rikardough - Armageddon: are you sure you don’t just need to git gud?

  Slipandslime - Gorgon: I just looked this guy up, he’s level 35 now playing a class I've never heard of; Weaponmaster. Do we have any info on this?

  Posterboy - Area 50: Havn’t seen that one yet either. Whats it do?

  Baloney - Trashheap: Hey, don;t detract from my post! it doesnt matter what level or class he is, all that matters is that we make a stand agist the monitors! they can;lt ban all of us!

  Slipandslime - Gorgon: No clue. He’s also got max level gear equipped.

  Posterboy - Area 50: that’s crazy. he must really be hacking then.

  Baloney - Trashheap: I TOLD YOU!