CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
“Inventories.” Rex barked a laugh. “Don’t tell me none of you have ever had a questline in Mercer Village before or tried to unlock your inventories.”
“This is our first one,” Gair admitted, heating Em’s cheeks.
“Double tap the top of your left wrist,” Rex demonstrated. A bluish screen holographically flickered above the bartender’s hairy arm, foreign symbols and words blinking into view. “Even if you aren’t from Mercer, you unlocked it when stepping foot in the LitRPG regions.”
Her companions followed suit. A series of whoas chorused between them as their own inventories hummed to life; an array of various colors, ratings, and storage space options based on their Leiber Guild classifications.
Em’s included two healing potions, a few gold coins, and even an extra pair of satin pajamas she wished she’d known about sooner.
Rex explained to the others how to store their assortment of belongings, but she mostly tuned it out.
As fascinating as this new feature was, Em hadn’t set out to be a part of a LitRPG plotline, nor a member of the stereotypical guild of adventuring parties.
This was neither original nor paramount to her right now.
She needed to recruit some new Side Characters and get the hell out of Mercer Village to encourage more original plotlines for her quest.
“You guys have fun,” she said, slipping away and not caring if anyone noticed. “I’m headed to post the job listing.”
Em wove her way through the busy streets toward the guild’s board.
Rusted nails crammed together along the wooden surface, some pages torn off where a job was claimed, while others wavered in the hot breeze, impatiently unnoticed.
She tacked her note up amongst the others. Right within the average eyeline.
New Side Characters meant more diversity in her group. Even a drop of originality would help purify the stereotypical curses she’d endured. These hires could be adventurers she chose for her benefit, not some bitchy randoms that her Great Author damned her with.
“Hey,” a female voice spoke up.
Em turned, and a pair of amber eyes met hers.
The other girl couldn’t be older than her; dark arms covered in floral tattoos, full lips painted with blue, and long coils twisted about her scalp and pointed ears.
The girl’s nose ring, bangles, and black Gi were the most original things Em had seen since her quest had started.
“You can’t post a listing,” the stranger said, arms crossed. She chewed at a small incense stick like a farmer would chew hay.
“Why not?”
“Only Mentors or Background Characters can create Side Quests,” the girl said past an accent as flowery as her tattoos. “It’s one of the few things they get to do in this blasted society, so we limit the adventure initiations to them.”
“I need help,” Em argued.
“You’re a Main Character, sweetheart.” The gorgeous-ninja-dressed Elf spit her incense into the dirt and scuffed out the ember remains. She blew a thin lavender-scented smoke ring. “All you have to do is ask, and your Author will give you whatever you want.”
Facts.
“Not mine,” Em scowled.
The girl waved her off. “You all say that and never mean it.”
“Excuse me!?”
“You heard me. Main Characters might as well be gods in places like Mercer Village. It’s too unoriginal to associate yourself with folk like these people, so they never have the chance to change their unfortunate fates,” the girl said.
“I want to make a difference,” Em held out her job listing toward the girl. “I’m trying to save my companions before it’s too late.”
“And not just because you’re worried about ruining your career and becoming like one of them?” The other girl raised an arched eyebrow.
Frustration boiled in Em. She tore the job listing off the guild board and stuffed it in her pocket, gritting her teeth.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“A nobody,” the girl shrugged. “But if your Great Author catches you trying to disrupt their plot, they’ll punish you for it.”
“This is my story,” Em snapped. “I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with it.”
“Are you now?”
“Yes.”
The girl laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Color me impressed at your determination, sweetheart. I wish you all the luck on your unattainable endeavors.”
Em blocked her before the girl tried to disappear into the crowds of villagers.
“You could join me,” she said. “You could help me change the tropes and save yourself from being stuck here.”
“Myself?” the girl wrinkled her nose. “Why would I do that?”
“You said you were a nobody,” Em said. “If I rewrite my story, that could turn you into a somebody. Maybe even special enough to become your own Main Character…”
“Oh, sweetheart, I am perfection.” The girl gestured to herself, her words ringing true with every aspect of her physical appearance. “And that’s mostly because I don’t let some otherworldly being dictate what I do with my life.”
“How?” Em asked, heart skipping a beat.
“I don’t give a flip about what they want,” the girl scoffed.
“Don’t you wish you could be your own Main Character?”
“No. I don’t need someone else to determine my life’s worth,” the girl said with an eye roll.
A shout cut through the village, screams following.
Clamor and war drums echoed over the bright morning. Villagers ran away in a panic, market stalls and commodities spilling into the dusty streets.
Shit.
The gurgled howl of goblins sent an icy chill through Em. Their dark theme-song that had haunted Yarros Arena blasted over the chaos.
Where the hell does their music even come from?
The ninja girl snorted to herself, hands on her hips. “Good luck with that one, sweetheart. Looks like your Great Author isn’t too pleased about your attempts to overthrow their grand plot for you.”
“Em!” Gair’s call rose over the frenzied crowds.
Across the road, her companions poured out of the Long Rest Tavern, weapons raised.
When Em turned, the strange girl had disappeared into the mobs. Letting out a deep breath, she flipped off her Author for the inconvenience, then raced to catch up to her party.
“What did you do?” Roden growled.
“Nice to see you too,” she grumbled.
“They’re surrounding the village from all sides!” Gair exclaimed, arrow notched on his bow as he surveyed the thatched rooftops for the grisly goblins. The wrinkled creatures began to scale over the buildings; rusted cleavers raised toward the sunlight.
“I thought you said they hadn’t followed us,” Em told Faylorn.
The old wizard shrugged, somehow smiling through the terror. “As I said before, inconspicuous is key to avoiding confrontation with Kriqir the Living’s soldiers,” Faylorn said. “You left the Long Rest Tavern and likely set off their local spies.”
This is actually my revenge on you for trying to ruin my perfectly good story.
“We need to get out of here! We can’t kill them all.” Roden tugged at Em’s arm, glowering at her. “There’s a forest nearby we could lose them in.”
“Em’s in charge,” Faylorn said casually, but a slight bite in the old wizard’s tone told her he was challenging her rash arrogance from earlier. He bobbed his bushy eyebrows at her.
Her stomach churned at the idea of facing the gory goblins again in another brutal ambush. Though the villagers had evacuated the streets and goblins had yet to drop down from the rooftops, their stench and blustering theme song unnerved her.
“Forest it is,” she said.
A whoosh shot through the air. Something sharp swooped past Em’s ear, and she let out a gasp, stumbling back. An arrow struck the tavern’s post behind her, quivering between splinters.
“Holy frick-frack!” Polo exclaimed.
“You okay, princess?” Roden asked.
Em hugged herself, regained her breath, and managed to laugh past the shock. Her helix stung where the arrow had grazed her. “It missed.”
She poked the arrow, shivering as her mind processed what almost happened. The black feather tickled her fingertip.
“Wait!” Gair pushed her aside, blocking her from the arrow with his whole body. “It may be poisoned.”
Faylorn inspected the shaft, harrumphing to himself. Roden came beside the wizard. The two examined the arrow, and eventually, the half-elf tugged it from the wooden post.
“Orcs.” Roden spat, throwing the arrow in the dirt.
“Bakh’s, no doubt,” Faylorn said.
“You’re joking, right?” Polo asked.
“A wizard never jokes. He says precisely what he means to.”
“Okay, who’s Bakh?” Em asked.
“The Captain of Orcs, Kriqir the Living’s second in command,” Roden said. “The worst piece of slime to ever come out of the Orc Mountains. And his armies are just as bad as he is.”
“The goblins at Yarros Arena must’ve been a distraction for the orcs to catch up to us,” Gair said.
“Well, let’s quit standing around chatting and get the hell out of here then.” Em hiked up her skirts and dashed through the Mercer village. She kept pace with the marching, distant Orcs and their drums, her companions hot on her heels.
Just as Roden promised, a forest sprawled along the outskirts of Mercer Village. Twigs snapped underneath her boots and birds fluttered away, cawing in her wake. A cramp bit into her side, and her lungs burned in protest from the cardio. No matter how hard Em ran, the others overtook her.
Maybe I should’ve taken gym class more seriously.
Behind them, the roars and clamor of the pursuing orcs filled the forest. The clanking of heavy armor echoed in her ringing ears. Their sickly stench was gag-worthy as the goblin guts had been.
She stumbled over a root, skinning her knees in the dirt.
Roden grabbed her wrist and dragged her to her feet.
“Keep running,” he growled.
“I’m trying,” she wheezed.
“I don’t believe you.” The half-elf glared at her as they ran.
“Why the hell not?”
“I don’t believe a thing you say or do,” Roden brooded. “Not after last night.”
“Too bad,” Em retorted. “I’m not in control of your bitchy opinions.”
Polo’s precious frying pans, hooked to his backpack, clattered and banged together as the imp ran. No doubt, the sidekick’s stubbornness was giving them away to the orcs. He staggered, his face clouded with exhaustion, and the orc-noises grew closer.
“Polo Took-Took!” Faylorn reeled on the sidekick, pausing their fleeing. “Get rid of those senseless pans this instant!”
“Why aren’t they in your inventory?” Gair asked.
“But…” Polo said between gasps, “we need to… cook… with… something. My inventory… is… full of flowers.”
“They’re giving us away,” Roden said. “We’ll never escape otherwise.”
Em leaned against a tree, fighting to catch her breath as her companions bickered. In the shadows of the forest, she could almost make out the incoming, looming orcs.
Polo frowned but began to empty his precious cookware from his bags.
“Fine,” he let out an exaggerated sob. “But my mother will be most displeased.”
“She’ll be happy you’re alive,” Gair argued.
Em smacked her shaky wrist, her golden inventory flickering to life.
Her stats warned her that being a human teenage girl meant she didn’t have much weight-capacity, but she didn’t care; anything to keep the stupid imp happy and to escape the orcs.
She gathered Polo’s pans as the others continued to run ahead, piling them into her small stash of goods.
See? You aren’t heartless after all, Em. You can learn to like your fellow characters.
“You’re the best, Highness,” Polo beamed.
“Yeah, I know.”
The imp scurried ahead, disappearing silently into the brush.
A pressure weighed down on Em from all sides, her inventory flashing a yellow warning sign that she’d encumbered herself.
She struggled to maneuver through the foreign screen to remove one of the spare cast-iron pans and chucked it into the dirt.
Relief swelled through her throbbing muscles as energy seeped back into her limbs.
“Wait up!” She called out to her disappearing companions.
A dark form cut her off.
Em staggered in the dirt, a gasp escaping her.
A wrinkled, slimy face blocked her view. It sneered jagged, rotting teeth at her. The orc’s yellow eyes flashed with glee at the sight of her.
Shit. Em checked her hips and remembered she’d foolishly ordered Faylorn to keep her prophecy sword with him. She was unarmed. Just how strong is my plot armor as Main Character?
Depends how grumpy I’m feeling.
Snarls and snorts followed as other shadowy, clunky figures surrounded her.
“Hello, princess,” the first and largest orc leered. He jumped at her, snatching her elbows before she could run away.
Em thrashed in the orc’s hold, but its meaty hands were too strong. His hand clamped over her mouth, muting her scream.
The dreaded theme-song and drums fell silent; the orcs had caught what they wanted. Silence came in the waves of crickets as the orcs stared at her.
“Get the cuffs,” the one holding her ordered.
Em held her breath to save herself from vomiting all over her captor. Her spinning mind numbed.
Damn your stupid frying pans, Polo.
The fact she had been suddenly thrown into a real problem both excited and unnerved her. Every action she made after this kidnapping now risked her life. There wouldn’t be time to ruin a story—or even a story to ruin—if she didn’t escape these orcs.
Thick cuffs snapped on her wrists, pinching into her skin. Em slumped under the weight of her shackled hands, no longer able to stand straight.
“Let’s move,” the orc captain, no doubt the infamous Bakh, ordered. His soldiers clamored like animals as they formed lines about him, sniffing the air and grumbling.
Bakh dragged Em alongside him. He let out a roar, and the orcs marched forward, beating their drums in sync. The captain orc shoved her forward, her shackles in one of his hands and his menacing cleaver in the other.
Em tripped over her skirts as she struggled to keep up with the pack. Exhaustion clung to her dry eyes.
She tugged and resisted against Bakh’s harsh pull.
“Quit it!” Bakh slammed the pommel of his sword onto her skull.
Agony and stars burst across her vision. Reality faded away into a dark vortex.
No, I won’t pass out—that’s the most cliché way to jump scenes… I won’t pass… I won’t…