03-12-2016, 11:56 AM
“Does this parka make me look fat?”
“Shut up,” I shout at my Stormtrooper companion, who has now—against his will—traded in his alabaster armor for a blue, fur-lined parka. It’s just a bit too small for him and has some weird looking stains on it; I can’t help but think it belonged to some classy dwarf lady before she got eaten by a carnivorous mountain creature.
I glance back at him and give it a once-over. “Honestly, the armor was probably more flattering to your figure,” I shrug and let out a chuckle. Behind the thick hood, I barely see Trey’s face crack a smile.
You probably can’t imagine how difficult it was to convince the dwarves to let him accompany me out of the city. I don’t really get what their problems with Stormtroopers are—aside from the fact that generally they’re brainwashed from birth to work for an evil, tyrannical Empire—but they seemed particularly reluctant to allow me any help on this little journey they sent me on, especially from my jailbird buddy.
Eventually, though, my undeniable charm managed to schmooze the pint-sized warriors into some circumstances that they could agree to.
“Quit your gabbin’ and get moving,” the grumbly voice of Ginger Dwarf barks.
…well, I never said it’s a perfect situation.
The three of us clamber over a low rock face; as we reach the top, I look out and see a range of mountains not visible from the gate to the Nexus (that’s what Stormtrooper man called the big, white void I appeared in). There’s so many. And they’re all so… tall. And intimidating.
“Do people live in all of these mountains?” I ask absentmindedly.
“No,” Ginger Dwarf scowls, “Not people. Trolls. Giants. Dragons. The only civilized place in all of the Fields is Dwarveholm.”
“…according to the people in Dwarveholm,” Trey interjects. The Ginger Dwarf spins around, the expression on his face growing even more sour. The former Stormtrooper holds up his hands. “I’m just saying, the Empire’s research implies the trolls, giants, and dragons all ascribe to some form of civilized behavior, even if it isn’t the type you approve of.”
A low growl from Ginger Dwarf.
“To be frank, none of you have the type of civilization the Empire would approve of,” he continues. “You’re actually kind of lucky they’ve never come in here and tried to force you guys to adhere to their rule like they are in the Dunes right now. Not that you’d really have much luck fighting them on it.”
“ARGHHHHHH!”
Too far.
Despite my attempts to place myself in between them, Ginger Dwarf tackles Trey the Stormtrooper full force and they both go tumbling down the snowy hill that we’ve been standing at the peak of. They’re rolling, rolling, rolling… and then, at last, they slam into the relatively flat ground on the plateau below and my redheaded companion starts laying into my other, socking him multiple times in the face with his big, gnarled fists. Deciding very quickly this is a situation I need to dispel, I start down the hill toward them.
“Guys, come on—” I start, but not before I hear a whizz and see an arrow fly in from basically nowhere and strike the dwarf in his upper arm. He stumbles off of Trey and falls back into the snow. I skid to a stop just in time to see a squad of trolls—like, seriously probably ten of them—pop out of the woodwork and swarm on the two of them.
Thinking fast, I dive behind a nearby snow-capped boulder. It’s too late, though; they’ve seen me. Another arrow, this one burning at its tip, soars through the space of air I recently occupied.
Backed into a corner and with no other option, I reach for the laser rifle slung across my body and ready it. Then, I stand up.
Bolts of energy begin flying wildly toward the group of trolls. I shoot and I miss more times than I can count, but a few of my blasts manage to take down some of the attackers. As two or three of them crumple into death’s embrace, I dart down the hill to join the fray with more fervor.
One of the beasts lifts up a rather mean-looking dagger, looking like he’s about to try to gut me. “Nope,” I mutter almost to myself, lifting up my leg and slamming it into the guy’s gonads. He doubles over in pain, staggering back, and I make a mental note that even crazy weird World of Warcraft monsters still have dicks, and it still hurts to hit them there. These are simultaneously great things to know and also thoughts I never imagined—let alone wanted—to have.
I lift up the blaster rifle and fire a few rounds into the doubled over troll, turning him into a bloody pulp in the midst of a great white expanse of snow. I can’t help but let a smirk cross my face. I’ve never really enjoyed killing, but this doesn’t feel like true violence. I still feel like I’m trapped inside the weirdest never-ending videogame ever.
A quick scan of the battlefield lets me know that almost half of our unkind ambushers have been taken down at this point. Ginger Dwarf has managed to get back up on his feet, and after ripping the arrow out of his arm, is swinging his battleax around pretty wildly. I watch him long enough to see him cleave one of the trolls’ heads off. Naturally, I almost vomit.
Suddenly, dark fingers wrap around my wrist and I glance up to see the bloody, bruised face of Trey the Stormtrooper staring directly into my eyes. “Come onnn,” he urges me, his words slurred a little bit since he probably just got his jaw broken by our other friend, “Let’s go. While he’s distracted, we can get away.” I blink at him for a few seconds—my first big decision in this Omniverse. I look back at Ginger Dwarf, solo’ing the last couple of trolls while we sit here in already too-long contemplation.
He looks like he’s got it under control, right?
Right?
Trey tugs and I follow. He starts running across the plateau, his parka flowing in the wind, and without even really thinking about it I’m sprinting after him. It takes a few seconds for Ginger Dwarf to catch on and then I hear him screaming dwarven profanities at us from a few yards away.
Then, all of a sudden, silence. I spin around and watch helplessly as Ginger Dwarf is smacked in the head by a troll with a huge-looking hammer. He collapses to the ground. Another one of the remaining fighters pulls some rope from a knapsack and starts tying him up, not unlike the way I tied up Trey when he and I first met back in the Nexus.
But that’s all I see, because the former Stormtrooper yanks my arm and suddenly I’m stepping off the plateau. There’s no ground underneath me.
I fall.
“Shut up,” I shout at my Stormtrooper companion, who has now—against his will—traded in his alabaster armor for a blue, fur-lined parka. It’s just a bit too small for him and has some weird looking stains on it; I can’t help but think it belonged to some classy dwarf lady before she got eaten by a carnivorous mountain creature.
I glance back at him and give it a once-over. “Honestly, the armor was probably more flattering to your figure,” I shrug and let out a chuckle. Behind the thick hood, I barely see Trey’s face crack a smile.
You probably can’t imagine how difficult it was to convince the dwarves to let him accompany me out of the city. I don’t really get what their problems with Stormtroopers are—aside from the fact that generally they’re brainwashed from birth to work for an evil, tyrannical Empire—but they seemed particularly reluctant to allow me any help on this little journey they sent me on, especially from my jailbird buddy.
Eventually, though, my undeniable charm managed to schmooze the pint-sized warriors into some circumstances that they could agree to.
“Quit your gabbin’ and get moving,” the grumbly voice of Ginger Dwarf barks.
…well, I never said it’s a perfect situation.
The three of us clamber over a low rock face; as we reach the top, I look out and see a range of mountains not visible from the gate to the Nexus (that’s what Stormtrooper man called the big, white void I appeared in). There’s so many. And they’re all so… tall. And intimidating.
“Do people live in all of these mountains?” I ask absentmindedly.
“No,” Ginger Dwarf scowls, “Not people. Trolls. Giants. Dragons. The only civilized place in all of the Fields is Dwarveholm.”
“…according to the people in Dwarveholm,” Trey interjects. The Ginger Dwarf spins around, the expression on his face growing even more sour. The former Stormtrooper holds up his hands. “I’m just saying, the Empire’s research implies the trolls, giants, and dragons all ascribe to some form of civilized behavior, even if it isn’t the type you approve of.”
A low growl from Ginger Dwarf.
“To be frank, none of you have the type of civilization the Empire would approve of,” he continues. “You’re actually kind of lucky they’ve never come in here and tried to force you guys to adhere to their rule like they are in the Dunes right now. Not that you’d really have much luck fighting them on it.”
“ARGHHHHHH!”
Too far.
Despite my attempts to place myself in between them, Ginger Dwarf tackles Trey the Stormtrooper full force and they both go tumbling down the snowy hill that we’ve been standing at the peak of. They’re rolling, rolling, rolling… and then, at last, they slam into the relatively flat ground on the plateau below and my redheaded companion starts laying into my other, socking him multiple times in the face with his big, gnarled fists. Deciding very quickly this is a situation I need to dispel, I start down the hill toward them.
“Guys, come on—” I start, but not before I hear a whizz and see an arrow fly in from basically nowhere and strike the dwarf in his upper arm. He stumbles off of Trey and falls back into the snow. I skid to a stop just in time to see a squad of trolls—like, seriously probably ten of them—pop out of the woodwork and swarm on the two of them.
Thinking fast, I dive behind a nearby snow-capped boulder. It’s too late, though; they’ve seen me. Another arrow, this one burning at its tip, soars through the space of air I recently occupied.
Backed into a corner and with no other option, I reach for the laser rifle slung across my body and ready it. Then, I stand up.
Bolts of energy begin flying wildly toward the group of trolls. I shoot and I miss more times than I can count, but a few of my blasts manage to take down some of the attackers. As two or three of them crumple into death’s embrace, I dart down the hill to join the fray with more fervor.
One of the beasts lifts up a rather mean-looking dagger, looking like he’s about to try to gut me. “Nope,” I mutter almost to myself, lifting up my leg and slamming it into the guy’s gonads. He doubles over in pain, staggering back, and I make a mental note that even crazy weird World of Warcraft monsters still have dicks, and it still hurts to hit them there. These are simultaneously great things to know and also thoughts I never imagined—let alone wanted—to have.
I lift up the blaster rifle and fire a few rounds into the doubled over troll, turning him into a bloody pulp in the midst of a great white expanse of snow. I can’t help but let a smirk cross my face. I’ve never really enjoyed killing, but this doesn’t feel like true violence. I still feel like I’m trapped inside the weirdest never-ending videogame ever.
A quick scan of the battlefield lets me know that almost half of our unkind ambushers have been taken down at this point. Ginger Dwarf has managed to get back up on his feet, and after ripping the arrow out of his arm, is swinging his battleax around pretty wildly. I watch him long enough to see him cleave one of the trolls’ heads off. Naturally, I almost vomit.
Suddenly, dark fingers wrap around my wrist and I glance up to see the bloody, bruised face of Trey the Stormtrooper staring directly into my eyes. “Come onnn,” he urges me, his words slurred a little bit since he probably just got his jaw broken by our other friend, “Let’s go. While he’s distracted, we can get away.” I blink at him for a few seconds—my first big decision in this Omniverse. I look back at Ginger Dwarf, solo’ing the last couple of trolls while we sit here in already too-long contemplation.
He looks like he’s got it under control, right?
Right?
Trey tugs and I follow. He starts running across the plateau, his parka flowing in the wind, and without even really thinking about it I’m sprinting after him. It takes a few seconds for Ginger Dwarf to catch on and then I hear him screaming dwarven profanities at us from a few yards away.
Then, all of a sudden, silence. I spin around and watch helplessly as Ginger Dwarf is smacked in the head by a troll with a huge-looking hammer. He collapses to the ground. Another one of the remaining fighters pulls some rope from a knapsack and starts tying him up, not unlike the way I tied up Trey when he and I first met back in the Nexus.
But that’s all I see, because the former Stormtrooper yanks my arm and suddenly I’m stepping off the plateau. There’s no ground underneath me.
I fall.
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