02-23-2016, 12:05 PM
I should’ve summoned a heavier jacket.
Stormtrooper Guy’s armor almost blends in with the snow, but thanks to the stylish black coloration of all his joints, I see him crumpled up a few yards away from me after passing through the gate to the Frozen Fields.
The name’s not kidding. This place is literally covered—every goddamn inch of it—in snow. Between this and the place we just came from, I haven’t seen this much white since my last visit to Wall Street.
I hug my leather jacket more tightly around me, my feet crunching through the snow towards my little friend. After digging in the frozen shit to find his leash, I nudge him ever so slightly. With my foot. Pretty hard, actually. “Ow,” he groans, rolling over and quitting his ruse of unconsciousness.
“No sleeping on the job, guy,” I say. “…sorry, what’s your name again, bro?”
I’m not really sure why I apologized. I mean, didn’t this douche technically threaten me back in the big white land of emptiness? Okay, okay, ‘threaten’ may be a strong word, but he definitely at least aimed his little Star Wars laser gun in my direction. And although I know from memes on my Facebook that Stormtroopers have shitty aim, the guy was basically almost in point blank range—close enough for me to punch him, anyway—and so I couldn’t take any risks. Right?
Before you say anything snarky, yes, it has dawned on me by now that I’m essentially kidnapping this poor sucker. But he pointed his laser rifle at me.
“I go by the designation TR-8R,” my buddy growls. That’s too many numbers and letters to remember, and they all seem super random.
“Jessica,” I say, reminding him, “I’m gonna call you Trey.”
His distaste for that idea is apparent even with his face shrouded by that ugly helmet of his. Ignoring his frustrated mumbling, I forge ahead into the blizzard, dragging his ass behind me. This time, though, he’s awake, so after a brief pause to move my knots from his ankles to his wrists, he can at least stand on his own two legs and follow me. I don’t have to listen to his head bop, bop, bopping along the ground, which is a definite plus.
Trey and I journey through the Frozen Fields for what seems like ever without a single word between us or a hint of civilization. Hyperbole aside, it’s probably like half an hour before I finally stop in my tracks.
“Sooooooo,” my buddy pipes up behind me, “Where exactly were you planning on going, Jessica?” The snideness in his voice irks me.
“Don’t test me, Trey,” I turn back to him, pointing a finger very threateningly at him, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And it especially hath no fury like a Jessica Jones scorned, you get me?” I can’t tell what his face looks like through that helmet, but his silence implies that he picked up what I was putting down.
During our little trip, we’ve been flirting with a mountain range that sort of snaked around us and now lies directly in our path. Given my high degree of unfamiliarity with the populace and wildlife of this snowy hell, I’m not too keen to find myself trapped in closed quarters, just in case a huge monster jumps out of nowhere and decides that Trey and I are exactly what it was craving for dinner. But—despite being from New York, which has been snowstorm central lately—I am also not the biggest fan of blizzards, and so I make the tough decision to take shelter in a cave somewhere in the foothills of one of the mountains.
Trey protests, going on about trolls and giants and other weird things that honestly just seem like shit he’s making up.
“Listen, dude,” I shoot a glare in his direction, “I’m willing to suspend my disbelief that you’re not some weird cosplaying convention freak and believe you when you tell me you’re actually a Stormtrooper and you actually serve the Emperor and what the fuck ever else, but you’re not about to try and pull some World of Warcraft bullshit over my eyes. No way José. No way.”
“But—”
And then a very sharp pain streaks through my entire abdomen, and I look down to find myself on the business end of a very rustic-looking spear. A motherfucking spear.
“Ow,” I say involuntarily, and the spear is yanked out of my stomach. I spin around, suddenly feeling very lightheaded, to see a very ugly-looking, pointy-nosed creature that really and truly can only be described as a troll giggling maniacally. I fumble with Trey’s laser rifle and eventually it slips through my fingers as I tumble onto the ground.
My vision starts to get blurry, but I can still see enough to see Trey lunge for the rifle and pick it up with his tied-up hands. The troll rears back with its spear, but my Stormtrooper buddy proves his worth: he takes aim and fires, like, five times straight into the ugly monster’s chest, sending it falling backwards into a wall. Its bosom is steaming, and the light leaves its eyes as slowly it slides down the rock wall of the cavern, dead. As I try to pick myself up, I can’t help but say one of my favorite words.
“Shiiiit.”
“You okay?” Trey asks, turning around and helping me up.
“I, uh,” I stammer, obviously not feeling okay, “I… think I’m, uh, bleeding.”
I feel the hole in my abdomen, and I’m totally right. It’s wet with fresh blood. Thankfully, Mr. Troll didn’t seem to be shooting to kill, so he missed my major organs, but I’ve still got a nasty hole straight through me and I’m bleeding profusely so I figure that we need to find some help. Somehow. Someway. Though I honestly have no fucking clue where to start in this ridiculous fantasy world.
“I think there’s a dwarf city a little ways away, deeper beneath the mountain,” Trey tells me, and my eyes grow wide once again.
“…dwarves?” I screech. This is too much for one day.
But I follow him anyway, because damn, it fucking hurts.
Stormtrooper Guy’s armor almost blends in with the snow, but thanks to the stylish black coloration of all his joints, I see him crumpled up a few yards away from me after passing through the gate to the Frozen Fields.
The name’s not kidding. This place is literally covered—every goddamn inch of it—in snow. Between this and the place we just came from, I haven’t seen this much white since my last visit to Wall Street.
I hug my leather jacket more tightly around me, my feet crunching through the snow towards my little friend. After digging in the frozen shit to find his leash, I nudge him ever so slightly. With my foot. Pretty hard, actually. “Ow,” he groans, rolling over and quitting his ruse of unconsciousness.
“No sleeping on the job, guy,” I say. “…sorry, what’s your name again, bro?”
I’m not really sure why I apologized. I mean, didn’t this douche technically threaten me back in the big white land of emptiness? Okay, okay, ‘threaten’ may be a strong word, but he definitely at least aimed his little Star Wars laser gun in my direction. And although I know from memes on my Facebook that Stormtroopers have shitty aim, the guy was basically almost in point blank range—close enough for me to punch him, anyway—and so I couldn’t take any risks. Right?
Before you say anything snarky, yes, it has dawned on me by now that I’m essentially kidnapping this poor sucker. But he pointed his laser rifle at me.
“I go by the designation TR-8R,” my buddy growls. That’s too many numbers and letters to remember, and they all seem super random.
“Jessica,” I say, reminding him, “I’m gonna call you Trey.”
His distaste for that idea is apparent even with his face shrouded by that ugly helmet of his. Ignoring his frustrated mumbling, I forge ahead into the blizzard, dragging his ass behind me. This time, though, he’s awake, so after a brief pause to move my knots from his ankles to his wrists, he can at least stand on his own two legs and follow me. I don’t have to listen to his head bop, bop, bopping along the ground, which is a definite plus.
Trey and I journey through the Frozen Fields for what seems like ever without a single word between us or a hint of civilization. Hyperbole aside, it’s probably like half an hour before I finally stop in my tracks.
“Sooooooo,” my buddy pipes up behind me, “Where exactly were you planning on going, Jessica?” The snideness in his voice irks me.
“Don’t test me, Trey,” I turn back to him, pointing a finger very threateningly at him, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And it especially hath no fury like a Jessica Jones scorned, you get me?” I can’t tell what his face looks like through that helmet, but his silence implies that he picked up what I was putting down.
During our little trip, we’ve been flirting with a mountain range that sort of snaked around us and now lies directly in our path. Given my high degree of unfamiliarity with the populace and wildlife of this snowy hell, I’m not too keen to find myself trapped in closed quarters, just in case a huge monster jumps out of nowhere and decides that Trey and I are exactly what it was craving for dinner. But—despite being from New York, which has been snowstorm central lately—I am also not the biggest fan of blizzards, and so I make the tough decision to take shelter in a cave somewhere in the foothills of one of the mountains.
Trey protests, going on about trolls and giants and other weird things that honestly just seem like shit he’s making up.
“Listen, dude,” I shoot a glare in his direction, “I’m willing to suspend my disbelief that you’re not some weird cosplaying convention freak and believe you when you tell me you’re actually a Stormtrooper and you actually serve the Emperor and what the fuck ever else, but you’re not about to try and pull some World of Warcraft bullshit over my eyes. No way José. No way.”
“But—”
And then a very sharp pain streaks through my entire abdomen, and I look down to find myself on the business end of a very rustic-looking spear. A motherfucking spear.
“Ow,” I say involuntarily, and the spear is yanked out of my stomach. I spin around, suddenly feeling very lightheaded, to see a very ugly-looking, pointy-nosed creature that really and truly can only be described as a troll giggling maniacally. I fumble with Trey’s laser rifle and eventually it slips through my fingers as I tumble onto the ground.
My vision starts to get blurry, but I can still see enough to see Trey lunge for the rifle and pick it up with his tied-up hands. The troll rears back with its spear, but my Stormtrooper buddy proves his worth: he takes aim and fires, like, five times straight into the ugly monster’s chest, sending it falling backwards into a wall. Its bosom is steaming, and the light leaves its eyes as slowly it slides down the rock wall of the cavern, dead. As I try to pick myself up, I can’t help but say one of my favorite words.
“Shiiiit.”
“You okay?” Trey asks, turning around and helping me up.
“I, uh,” I stammer, obviously not feeling okay, “I… think I’m, uh, bleeding.”
I feel the hole in my abdomen, and I’m totally right. It’s wet with fresh blood. Thankfully, Mr. Troll didn’t seem to be shooting to kill, so he missed my major organs, but I’ve still got a nasty hole straight through me and I’m bleeding profusely so I figure that we need to find some help. Somehow. Someway. Though I honestly have no fucking clue where to start in this ridiculous fantasy world.
“I think there’s a dwarf city a little ways away, deeper beneath the mountain,” Trey tells me, and my eyes grow wide once again.
“…dwarves?” I screech. This is too much for one day.
But I follow him anyway, because damn, it fucking hurts.
Quote:Begin Quest: Into the Hall
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