We walked along the passageways, trying hard to not comment on the unnatural illumination. I liked to believe that there was some chemical compound in the walls or some metal hat created this weak lighting, but I knew it could only be one thing: magic. As such, my apprehension stemmed from the assumption that our enemy was the source of magic strong enough to illuminate the whole bloody labyrinth.

Unlike the open ended tunnels Verita and I had chased each other through before we landed upon the prison area, these channels were straight and unchanging. For all I knew, we could be walking into the abyss, but zooming out on my minimap told me we were almost upon the heart of the volcano.

That, more than anything, hushed me up.

As much as I loved to cover up my fear and despair with tomfoolery, there were times I needed to put that aside and apply my skills in a situation. This was one of them. Fighting trolls was different from ambushing two-foot fishmen. These beings were known to be larger than most men with strong muscles with a healing factor that would make Wade Wilson bust one. Coupled with what I guessed to be a shaman amongst their number, I was subtly wary as we made our way forward.

Suddenly, a putrid smell assailed my nose and I could tell my companions had been hit by it too. Wherever we were going, we were definitely almost there. If there was one thing I remembered about stories concerning trollkind, was their lack of hygiene. So I didn’t confuse the stench wafting through the air for anything that what it could only be.

“Verita, your dagger is still intact, right?” I asked her while dropping into a crouch.

“Well, yes. Why do you want it?” She inquired, following my example and dropping into her haunches. I noticed Zuric do same and gave him a thumbs up which he responded to with a weak smile.

“Nope, it’s not my kinda thing. I wanted your short sword.”

“Uh, sure, but don’t you already have one?”

“Tsk tsk. Two swords are always better than one.”

“Riighttt.”

Despite her skepticism, she fished the blade from her inventory and handed it to me. I equipped it in my left hand and tested the balance of the two blades. Huh. They were exactly the same weight. Perfect.

“So, fearless leader, what’s the plan?” Verita asked with a bored look.

“Well, I could do what a logical person would do and have one of you scout ahead and take stock of how many enemies we face. But that would assume that one of us has a rogue class, which we do not. So it could happen that that scout would end up triggering a trap or alerting our enemies too early. In light of that, Verita and I are going to enter together while Zuric either keeps to the tunnels or stays a good distance behind us. Enough that you can provide healing while staying away from the close combat zone. Sound good?”

The two nodded and I gave them a thumbs up again. Damn, I hated this team leader stuff. I preferred doing this on my own, but I’d play with the hand I’ve been dealt. I rose from my crouch and completed the last part of our journey to the center of the volcano, entering into a wide cavern. In fact, wide was an understatement. The damn place was humongous. It was also open to the elements.

Instead of a pool of lava, there was a large lake of water that looked foul with small island set in the middle. On the island was a cave with a shrine set into a crevice at the back. The lake was surrounded by typical cave rock that circled it totally.

From what I could tell, the only entrance to this place was the tunnel we had come from. To reach the cave set in the center of the lake, one would have to cross a wide bridge of beach sand that connected the small island to the rest of the landmass. Right at the mouth of the bridge was a large troll with blue skin seated atop what seemed to be a throne. A large claymore rested on the side of the throne as he lazily observed the intruders entering his domain. He wore a full set of hide armor that didn’t do much to cover his powerful torso.

Beside him and in a tight fitting black robe was a female troll wielding a staff that looked similar to Zuric’s but without the wear and tear. Both trolls had two long tusks and single length of black hair tied into a ponytail. They were also both ugly.

They watched us with a stoic demeanor as we trudged in, noting our positions, weapons and clothes as we did same to them. I walked a bit farther ahead of Verita and towards the left, closer to the Warrior, while Verita angled towards the Shaman.

I snapped out an identify on both of them.

Troll Warrior lvl 12

HP: 700/700

MP: 0/0

SP: 1200/1200

Troll Shaman lvl 10

HP: 450/450

MP: 1000/1000

SP: 100/100

Naturally, they were formidable, their survival stats ranging higher than each of us. With our measly damage output, I could see this fight being a long an arduous one. Just when I was starting to consider how we were going to initiate fisticuffs, the Troll Warrior charged at me boldly, his Shaman rattling of a spell at the same time.

Verita lunged at her target and swiped her dagger at the Shaman, only to meet resistance in the form of a barrier that looked like a carapace. A mana barrier. A typical mage defense that was essential to keeping the glass cannons from expiring after one hit. The obvious downside was that while it was engaged, the caster could not do anything but funnel mana into the defense. This would allow Verita to chip away at the barrier slowly while the Shaman lost her most vital source of combat power: mana.

Unfortunately, Verita and I knew that it would be wishful thinking. My dagger had broken against the skin of the Kelp after just one hit and Verita’s had only stayed intact because her fall had cracked the Kelp’s scales and softened it up. She simply could not afford to sustain an attack on the hardened barrier.

My eyes were soon removed from her battle to mine as the Warrior swung his large claymore down at me, aiming to cleave me in two. I knew better than to try to block, especially with rusty swords. I simply backpedaled, but frowned when the warrior whipped the large weapon around like it were a mere toothpick. His follow up horizontal swing nearly parted my abdomen had I not backtracked and pulled my belly in. That was too close for comfort.

With his claymore at the end of its swing, I lunged in to initiate an attack of my own, thrusting my sword at his chest, right where his heart should be. I managed to penetrate it slightly before he backhanded me and swung the large sword again, forcing me to backtrack – again. That thing’s range compared to my short blades was going to be a serious problem.

I had wanted to reserve this until there was no other way, but I decided to unleash it. There was no use hoarding a skill if you were dead. I switched to a reverse grip or ‘Zatoichi’ style, which was used by that guy from that Star Wars game… what was it called again? The Sauce Released? Yeah, that one.

The Troll’s face displayed a flash of confusion by this strange style and he became a lot more conservative in his attacks. He knew something was up and was in no hurry to find out what. Despite being a troll, I could tell this fighter possessed a reasonably high intelligence, but he and his partner had not yet uttered a word.

Frankly, it was refreshing. No monologues, one liners or unnecessary evil plan revealed. Just two groups fighting for territory the old fashioned way: to the death.

I decided to renew the battle by using my surprising agility to wind around the Warrior like a boomerang, using the blade to cut a deep gash in his thigh. He cried out in a guttural tongue, a growl of anger coupled with a wild swing of his claymore to accompany it. I barely ducked in time to avoid being decapitated, but the careless attack created an opening that I stole efficiently. I spun like a top and used my momentum to add force into a swipe that cut across my foe’s torso, spilling blue blood and some guts.

This time, he howled in pain and grabbed his leaking innards, trying to push them back in. Unless his Shaman knew some healing spells, he was finished, regardless of his own healing factor. In fact, that same healing factor would only prolong his agony. Instead of writhing on the ground in pain, he opted to use his last moments to launch into a flurry and attacks that were considerably slower and weaker, but still dangerous.

I had learned one important thing from this. Despite this being a game world with stats and RNG, it was real in every way. Stats and enhancements would mean very little when you wore armor that exposed your torso. It was an exciting and humbling realization that sobered me quickly, tempering my enthusiasm.

I was forced to dodge creatively in order to prevent the crazed Troll from giving me the same fate as the frog from my seventh grade science class. During the assault, I was able to monitor Verita’s progress on her own quarry.

Unfortunately, she was sporting many burns and cuts along her legs and arms for magical attacks the Shaman had managed to dole out to her. The Warlock in question was plugged full of holes, but was still standing strong and alternating between casting her mana shield and sending off a blast of fire or wind. Verita was surprisingly agile as she dodged some of the attacks, but some managed to land and my heart went out for her. This wasn’t virtual reality where pain was muted. We had arrived here in flesh and blood through a wormhole, so everything she was feeling must be real.

Honestly, how she is able to remain on her feet after receiving that much punishment is beyond me. From the look in the Shaman’s eyes, she thought so too. I soon learned why when a greenish aura enveloped her and took away all her damage in one fell swoop. I almost face palmed from my own foolishness. I was used to doing things solo in the real world as well as struggling to survive with Verita that I forgot we recruited a healer. Of course, Both Zuric and I probably realized that I didn’t need any healing, as I was an adept combatant, but Verita had been a bartender till today. Anyone can thrust a knife forward and stab, but it took real skill to remain on your feet against someone who could stab too. A lot of people didn’t realize that it required grueling training to enter a gun or knife fight with another armed combatant and emerge the victor.

I noticed the attacks on my person slow perceptibly. I may seem overpowered when dealing with this formidable Troll Warrior, especially being able to deflect and dodge his desperate attacks while observing another fight, but paying top dollar for 8th Dan trainers would have been a waste if I couldn’t do this much. My old trainer used to beat me in my sleep just so I could remain aware of my surroundings.

I realized my foe has lost a lot of blood and was beginning to see the gates of hades call for him. It seemed like he had a different idea though. His eyes gleamed with hatred as he bellowed and I saw a compulsory ‘!!!’ notice pop up in the bottom right corner of my screen.

__________________

Troll Warrior uses Savage Blow!!

__________________

He glowed red for a split second as he brought his claymore up for one final swing, one he hoped that would dice me up like a pizza. Despite my affection for the aforementioned food, I lifted my right hand and brought my sword up in a defensive position, switching to a forward grip. I saw the Troll’s eyes gleam in anticipation. I couldn’t blame him. We both knew his strength was leagues higher than mine, so my paltry sword could not possibly block his power packed attack.

Unfortunately for him, I didn’t need it to.

I swung up with my left hand and used it to hit his claymore from the flat edge while it was in transit. Since he had already over extended by putting all his force into this one last attack, it sent his blade wide of my general proximity while forcing him to lose his footing. He fell forward rapidly, his weight working against him as his neck met the blade end of my outstretched short sword. Of course, my arm strength and my rusty blade were not strong enough to decapitate him in one blow, but it was enough to dig deep into his thick neck and sever his carotid artery. He slid of my blade and fell to the floor, dead.

I knelt beside his lifeless body and gave him a winning smile; the same smile that made Maria swoon and Verita infatuated. “I’m ambidextrous. Why else would I dual wield? Shoulda thought about that ya prick.”

I teabaged him for good measure and moved on to help my smoking hot Piratess finish off her opponent.

Troll Shaman lvl 10

HP: 150/450

MP: 340/1000

SP: 80/100

Verita had done a good job weakening the caster, so I bent my knees and crossed the distance to her side of the battle, sneaking up behind the Shaman to deal one of the most powerful attacks I knew existed: backstab.

Instead of stabbing the caster in the back, like the name implied, I was more practical and realistic about my approach. Limiting to a stab in the back area allowed you the chance to pierce an organ or break the spine, but that was unnecessary for a longer blade like a sword. So I opted to penetrate the Shaman in a not so pleasurable way. By sticking it right up her kisser.

Her shriek of pain was ear splitting as she fell over with my blade still inside her, thrashing on the ground as her HP fell astronomically. In a matter of moments, she was as dead as the warrior and it was my turn to smirk at Verita, savoring her scowl.

“Oops, wrong hole.”

This broke her scowl into a reluctant smile that soon turned into a hearty laugh. I laughed along with her, her vibrant tones mismatching my mad cackle. Zuric walked up to join us, looking between the clearly sane Latina and the not-so-sane African man with a looked that spoke of worry. For some reason, that made us laugh harder.

“Alright, alright guys. Let’s loot them and claim the shrine. Then we can go help the captives outside before something else comes up,” I advised, moving over to the warriors corpse to see what he had.

Hmm, a minor heal potion, two ivory tusks, a hide helmet and his oversized claymore as well as some silver pieces.

Minor Heal potion

Heals you for 50 points of health.

Hide Helmet

DEF: 10

EFF: +2 Durability

END: 50/50

Claymore

DPS: 15-20

EFF: +2 Forte

END: 50/50

I clicked my tongue in disappointment. These were definitely good for level one noobs like us but I knew someone who could put better use to these than Verita or I. Zuric as a mage/cleric class was definitely out of the question.

The Shaman however, had better drops. I counted six gold coins, a mana potion, a mage enhanced robe and a gnarled staff.

Minor Mana potion

Heals you for 50 points of mana.

Mage’s robes

DEF: 10

EFF: +2 Durability

END: 50/50

Gnarled staff

DPS: 3-7 blunt + 20 extra magical damage/effect

EFF: +2 Control

END: 50/50

Not a bad haul.

“Alright, so we can share the goodies later. For now, let’s head into the alcove and complete this mission,” I said, rising to my feet from kneeling over the corpse of the Shaman.

“There’s a quest?” Zuric asked with surprise. His accent was a lot heavier now that his parched throat had been moistened, and I almost had a hard time understanding his words. “I thought this was real life?”

Hm? “Zuric, are you a PC?” I asked him with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course. No one here seems to understand the one true language,” He said with a laugh.

I stretched my hand out and said the one word that would forever set this man as an ally to my cause. “Comrade.”

He looked between my outstretched hand and my face, trying to find any deception. When he saw none, he took my hand and shook it with a toothy smile. “Comrade.”

“Alright, now that you two commies are done plotting how to break the economy, can we get on with it?” Verita demanded while tapping her foot irritably. She was still slightly discontent over my equalizing of the score.

“Of course love, anything for you.”

We walked over the bridge onto the small island set right in the middle of the lake. Verita and Zuric grimaced and held their noses to prevent the stench of the impure water from wafting into their mouths or noses. I just looked back at them and sneered.

“If you can’t handle this much, then you can’t even survive one of Maria’s farts,” I mocked.

“Any girl who can fart worse than this must be eating rubbish,” Verita retorted.

“Hey! My cooking is that bad!” I huffed with righteous indignation.

“No wonder. Poor girl must shit toxic waste.”

“Tru.”

We stand over the shrine and I stare at it for a second. For one, the cave it’s set in is larger than I thought. Not big enough to be matched with a house, but big enough to be an apartment, its walls were smooth rock, unlike its jagged exterior. There was a bed set in the left corner, along with a weapons rack and some sort of cupboard that was cut into the walls of the rock like the shrine itself.

I walked up to the shrine and did the only thing I could. I placed my hand upon it hoping for something to happen. The moment I did, I heard a voice whisper into my ears, a dark and sonorous voice that echoed on itself like two people with the same voice speaking at the same time.

Mmm, a Pirate. An otherworlder too. My favorite. Repeat these words to finish your quest.

The voice was female and I took it to be Calypso, given that she could see into my past and my quest just by mere touch. Despite my better judgement, I spoke out the words she asked me to.

“I hereby pledge myself and my companions into the service of Calypso, Goddess of the sea and aquatic life in perpetuity, to protect and honor her wishes in exchange for power.”

The moment I finished, she chuckled darkly and I felt a surge of power flow from the shrine into me and judging by Verita and Zuric’s gasps, they too felt something. I noticed that a white pulse expanded from the shrine and went through the cavern and into the tunnels beyond, everywhere it touched being remodeled and cleaned. The lake water became the purest I had ever seen from a water body. The interior walls of the cavern became like the cave, smooth rock. The jagged floors near the lake become white sand, as if we were in a beach while the mainland become smooth rock as well.

I noticed some prompts pop up, but before I could even view them, I fall to the ground, blackness creeping on the edges of my vision.