Paragon of Weaponmasters

We use our herstons, arriving directly in front of Bert. I give him finger guns, he gives me a raised eyebrow. My chipper mood vanishes instantly when I spot Toebark on the floor, dead.

"Fuckin' sadists." I spit.

Peter's expression goes through a few rapid changes, from confused, to understanding, to sympathy. He must have realized Toebark is like me. A real person, not a series of ones and zeros that doesn't mind getting killed over and over. We leave the inn, giving the body a wide berth.

At the Honorlord's keep again, it appears to be under renovations. The wooden sides are being reinforced with metal plates, while a big metal door is installed in the front.

"Ready for war, wouldn't you say?" Peter waggles his eyebrows.

"They're not ready for me." I tell him, trying to sound cool.

"Ooh, tough guy!" he says, flexing. We both chuckle, even if the undertown of mourning is still there.

Inside, the dining tables have been removed, leaving the main hall as one big empty space, with only the throne occupying it. Of course the Honorlord is there, lording over his kingdom of emptiness.

Skipping over the pleasantries, I retrieve the head from my inventory and fill almost half of the hall with its bulk. I climb on top and pose triumphantly.

A flash of surprise crosses the orcs face, but he schools his expression and returns it to a deep scowl.

"Well?" I ask, my arms raised to the sides. "Anything to say, Honorlord?"

His lip twitches.

"Uh… Peter, is he broken?" I ask.

"Dunno. Let me try." Peter clears his throat. "Honorlord, I bring you proof of my honorable deeds."

"Proof?" the Honorlord finally speaks.

"Yes, the head of Xindrog, the ancient dragon." Peter deploys his own head, filling nearly the rest of the space.

"This proves your capacity to carry great weights, certainly." The Honorlord shrugs. "It does not prove that you slew the dragon."

"What?" I scream. "How the fuck else would we get ahold of a dragon's head? Fantasy Costco?"

The Honorlord stands from the throne, axe in hand.

"Are you challenging me?" he asks.

"You know what, yes. Yes I am, you prick. You send your pathetic runts after me one after another, to their deaths. You killed your own daughter because she dared to be in love. You're definitely sending assassins to kill our son as we speak. Well guess what, Father-in-Law? You'll never lay a finger on him, and you can kill me, sure, but I'll be back; and one of these days, I'm going to kill you." I rave.

I only catch the first second of his war cry, as the malevolent axe spins through the air, then me.

You've died.

I respawn in my shop. Peter's health bar is empty, he must have died right after me.

"Running back." he tells me with a ghostly voice.

"Spooky" I comment. I take a moment to observe my replacement. He breathes silently, giving the false impression of being alive.

Urul Mulush. Level 1

"Poor bastard." I mutter while departing. "Where will you respawn?"

"Near my body." he tells me.

I mount up and head back over to the hall. The renovations are complete, and the front is sealed shut. That was fast. Peter emerges through the front door like a ghost, but not as a ghost. It's very unnerving.

"The doors don't stop you from leaving, only entering." he explains, I guess he noticed my expression.

"Got it." I say. "What now?"

"We go down the sketchy alley and get jumped by some goons." he thumbs over his shoulder.

"Why?" I ask.

"We'll get saved by the nameless messenger. Then he'll give us the next quest." Peter tells me.

"Great." I grumble.

"Hey, lighten up. We never have to talk to the Honorlord again, the next time we see him it'll be to kill him!" Peter tries.

"You know what, that is encouraging." I admit. "Let's go get mugged."

Entering the alley, it's not immediately obvious that we're about to get jumped. I guess I assumed there'd be some red flags, like some hooligans spray painting or something. As far as I can see, it's a completely empty alley.

A muscular arm wraps around my neck, I watch Peter share my fate as an assassin appears from thin air. Oh right, magic.

Before anyone can react, both assassins drop to the floor, foam running out of their masks. The mysterious figure from earlier this week… or was that today? Stands to the side, throwing daggers in hand.

"Lucky I was here," he says.

"Right." I respond, rolling my eyes. Peter elbows me while mouthing 'be nice.'

"Things have gotten worse much quicker than our mutual friend anticipated. We need to adjust our timetable. It's now or never, drastic action is required." he tells us. "Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Already taken care of my guy." I inform him.

He says nothing for a moment.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." he repeats himself.

"Uh…" I look to Peter for answers. He shrugs.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." again.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." again.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." again.

"How was your day, sweetheart?' my mother asks.

"I told you it was fine, mom." I say with irritation in my voice, no matter how hard I try to suppress it.

"Hey. Don't talk to your mother that way." My father chastises me.

"I don't understand why she's still living at home, driving to work, working. She should be in a home." I cross my arms.

"What do you mean?" she asks, confused by the conversation we've had before.

"We've talked about this. She's happy at home, there's no reason to make her uncomfortable." My father reminds me.

"She's not comfortable, dad. She's sick. What are you going to do when her boss calls and says she can't work anymore?" I ask, not for the first time.

"Then I'll stay at home with her." he insists, again.

"Who's going to pay the bills?" I inquire.

"What's going on?" my mother asks, distressed.

"Nothing, love. Luke is just visiting." My father pats her arm.

"Oh, Luke! How was your day, sweetheart?" she asks for the 16th time this hour.

I roll my shoulders and crack my neck, trying to relive the tension in my body from the memory.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." the mysterious stranger repeats himself.

"Can we like, debug him or something?" I ask.

"Dunno. Try poking him?" He shrugs.

I do. There's a brief stutter, like he's blinking in and out of reality.

"You broke my toy." a voice like a swarm of bees complains.

The Monitor circles the N.P.C., observing his jerky movement and repeating dialogue.

"Go to the Gormer Forest and do whatever it takes to enlist the help of the Beastmen." he says straight into the red light.

"Might have to just replace this one." the Monitor says forlornly.

Touching the N.P.C. in his abdomen, the Monitor condenses his entire body into a marble.

"Here" it tosses the marble to me. I catch it on reflex.

[Flesh Marble] added to inventory.

I don't like that the rarity color is blood red.

Flesh Marble - g^4kj9Lei9 - 4l0ok9jdi - m7^#sao!

And the item description is nonsense. Great.

"Give the world a second to generate another one. Ta-ta." it waves with its metal fingers, vanishing without fanfare.

"Was that the same Monitor as always?" Peter asks.

"I think so? It always acts weird. Sometimes I think it hates me, and other times it's all buddy-buddy. Like it didn't torture me." I shake my head.

A muscular arm wraps around my neck.

"Alright enough of that." I say, shaking the assassin off.

Confusion twists their eyebrows before they die foaming at the mouth, just like the last one.

"Lucky I was here," The new messenger says.

Peter and I exchange a look.

"Things have gotten worse much quicker than our mutual friend anticipated. We need to adjust our timetable. It's now or never, drastic action is required." he tells us.

We wait for the next line of dialogue, expecting the worst.

"It looks like you've already successfully earned the trust of the Beastmen, Elves, Minotaur, and Cyclops. Well done." He says something new.

Peter and I both sigh with relief.

"Your next objective should be the Dwarves. You'll find them deep under human territory, if you still have access, I'd recommend using the Foundation portal crossroad." he adds.

"Will do." I say, eager to leave before something else weird happens.

"Before you go, take this." he slips me a sealed envelope. "It will guide you to your next objective after the Dwarves."

Help from the Mountain Folk accepted!

Earn the trust of the Dwarves 0/1

I nod at the messenger, departing hastily. Peter and I navigate to the crossroads without running into trouble, and jump from Masstaoir to Foundation, and from Foundation to deep underground.

The loading screen shows a mine staffed entirely by dwarves, save for the human taskmaster.

My vision returns to a wondrous sight. Silvery metal, shinier than any I'd ever seen before, zig-zags along the walls in deep veins. The metal seems to illuminate its surroundings, not by reflecting light, but by producing it. My jaw hangs open taking all of it in.

"Mithril." Peter tells me.

"Can I mine it?" I ask, remembering that's the next step in my Blacksmithing journey.

"Not yet. Once you're friends with the dwarves, it's your for the taking." he explains.

"Aw." I complain.

"Oi, boss. We've got company." a dwarf addresses a nearby human.

"Well, deal with them!" the human orders, emphasizing with a crack of his whip.

"Why can I understand them?" I turn to Peter, watching the humans out of the corner of my eye.

"It would be impossible to complete the quest if you couldn't." he responds.

"That's it? Not even a bullshit reason like 'because magic'?" I ask incredulously.

"Nope. That's it." he shrugs.

I roll my eyes. Some fantasy this is.

The dwarf charges us, pickaxe raised over his head.

"Can we like, free him instead?' I gesture to the dwarf. It's going to take him a while to reach us.

"Sure, aim for that guy." Peter points to the human.

"Easy." I command Thozur forward, they fly through the air to the human. His solid body doesn't impede the flight of my hammer, Thozur goes straight through him like a hammer though hot watermelon.

Suffice to say, there's a mess.

"Hey!" I shout at the dwarf. "He's dead! You're free now!"

The dwarf comes to a rough stop, almost falling over. He turns to see the mess behind him, facing us to lose his lunch. You could have done that in the other direction, man. He cleans his beard with a cloth, replacing bits of food with bits of dirt and gravel. That's going to need a thorough wash.

"Aye, thanks orc. Dunno why you'd bother freeing little ol' me, but I appreciate that bit o' kindness." he bows.

"No problem, can you point us in the direction of your…" I turn to peter. "Do they have a king or what?"

"No, they have an oligarch." Peter corrects me.

"Ah." I say. "That's a shame. Anyways, show us the way?" I turn back to the dwarf.

"Sure. It'll make us even." he smiles with rough, jagged teeth. What do dwarves eat rocks or something?

The dwarves are an honorable sort. Provided you've got the coin, they will fulfill any request. Thozur informs me.

At Least they aren't scam artists, I guess.

I feel Apaki question if that was directed at them.

I let them keep wondering.

We follow the short man up through the mines, passing other dwarves who mind their business, chipping away at mithril veins. Eventually we arrive at a work camp filled to bursting with dwarves. If they're all sleeping inside of them, they must be ten to a tent. It's positively packed.

"Hey!" a human shouts, cracking his whip. They really enjoy that, don't they?