Previously On…
In the last chapter, George and Nod did some last minute purchasing and processing before the trial. They got a bunch of quests that are sure to make the next fifteen or so chapters interesting… Then the second trial began.
If you want to read all of the story that has been published so far, you can do that here. Or jump straight to a certain chapter.
On to the story.
George appeared in a large, round room full of people who also seemed to have just been teleported into it. Like Murdo had said, there appeared to be about thirty other players in the trial. Everyone was arrayed in a circle just inside the wall of the room. The room was a high-ceilinged dome that seemed to be carved out of red stone. Black lines across the floor radiated out from the center, dividing the room into equal sections, one for each trial member.
>>Whoa. Freakshow.
A notification popped up with the description of the trial.
New Trial!
Title: The Labyrinth Justifies the Existence of the Minotaur
Description: Players are divided into two teams and can be eliminated by death during hunting rounds or by vote during voting rounds.
Objective: The first team to be eliminated loses.
Reward: [From Andy: I do not know what the rewards for this trial will be yet. If you have ideas, you know where to find me. Leave a comment. Send smoke signals, ravens, etc.]
George could only stand still and survey the bizarre creatures and beings in the room around him. Across from him, there appeared to be a nine-foot-tall living suit of armor that glowed with purple light coming from between the gaps in the pieces of metal. It was carrying a spiked mace that was as long as George was tall. Two large ivory horns jutted out of the sides of its helmet.
Beside the armor-man was an old woman in a dress sobbing loudly on her knees. She was holding her stomach as though it pained her.
Next to the crying woman floated a perfectly round sphere that reflected the room in bright curves on its metallic surface.
As George’s eyes darted around the room, he saw a muscular lizard man, a beautiful woman with bright red hair hugging a green cloak around herself, a young girl who looked like she couldn’t be more than ten years old, a vibrating mound of glowing green slime, a creature that looked like an angel carved of white crystal, a man in oversized orange armor holding up a jagged sword that looked like it could easily double as a chainsaw.
George noticed a large panel on the far wall that said:
Red Team: 15
Blue Team: 15
Total Players remaining: 30
That was when George saw a notification had appeared.
Quest Update!
Quest: Find Family
Description: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Completed: 1/?
Reward: Family is its own reward.
>>Nod. Look at that. Does that mean one of my children is in this room?
>>Well, damn.
>>Maybe it does. But, remember that quest isn’t “find your kids,” it is “find family.” That could mean that your kids are here or that you’ve got a distant aunt Bertha you didn’t know who is a mound of slime now.
>>Given your memory situation, it could mean a lot of things.
>>But it could mean one of my kids is here.
>>I suppose it could, yes.
>>We have to find him. Or her.
>>Wait. They will recognize me, right? Assuming they haven’t lost their memory, too.
George almost raised his hand to wave at the room and shout: I’m George! I’m Dad! But then he remembered that his head was encased in the helmet that he could not remove.
>>Slow down, chief.
>>Priority number one is to survive this trial.
>>Priority number two is to find out what it means that your Find Family quest just updated.
>>If one of these people is one of my kids, we have to save them. I have to protect them.
>>And I am not saying that isn’t important. Nor am I saying that we aren’t going to try to save your kid if we find them. I’m just saying that we need to be sure to, you know, get our own oxygen masks on first.
>>You can’t help anybody if you freak out and do something stupid. None of these people look like they might be your kid, so don’t go up and hug the guy with the chainsaw sword thinking you will get hugged back.
>>You won’t!
>>You’ll get dead.
>>Then, I’ll get dead too.
>>And I don’t want that.
>>So, let’s keep our priorities straight. That’s all I’m saying.
>>Nod, listen to me.
>>I get that I don’t know what the quest update means.
>>And I get that none of these people look like they might be my family, but if it turns out that one of them is my child, then I am going to do whatever it takes to make sure they make it through this trial alive.
>>Even if that means I don’t make it out alive.
>>And even if that means you don’t make it out alive.
>>So, let’s get that straight right now.
>>You got that?
Nod was silent.
>>I’m sorry you are stuck with me. I didn’t choose that. You did.
>>I am going to save my children.
“And if you don’t like that, then get the fuck out of my head!” Geoge realized he had shouted the last sentence when most of the others in the room looked at him.
>>Yeah.
>>I don’t know if I agree with the “let’s die to save your kids” part, but I hear you.
>>Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it.
One of the creatures elsewhere in the room drew everyone’s attention away from George when it let out a screech and raised itself on its hind legs. It was so deeply black that its skin seemed to eat the light. It spread its long arms wide and opened its claws. It screamed again, revealing a mouth packed with rows of needle teeth.
George’s Identify kicked in.
<Name: N/A
Race: Dismal Voidling—Scion of the Ink
Level: 88, E-Grade
Profession: N/A
Abilities: N/A
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: This scion of the Ink is less a personal entity than an undifferentiated manifestation of the will of the Ink. Due to its affinity with nonexistence, the Dismal Voidling expresses a strong, violent antipathy toward any existing thing, including its own self for the duration of its manifestation into being.>
The voidling pawed at the air for a moment and then threw itself toward its neighbor, only to bounce off a blue force shield that glimmered into existence and threw the creature to the ground. The shield briefly rippled with glowing blue waves of light that subsided as the force field disappeared again.
The person adjacent to the voidling was a hairless albino man wearing a loose-fitting wrap of robes sitting cross-legged on the ground. The man had no reaction to the monster beside him crashing against the force shield but only stared at it impassively, then shifted his gaze away.
>>I miss Charlie James.
“Vermin,” the man beside George said. George looked sideways and saw a man dressed in a denim jacket sitting comfortably in a chair with one leg crossed over another and his hands folded in his lap. A table next to him had a steaming cup of tea on it. He seemed composed and at ease compared to the strange, raucous room around him. He shook his head slowly as the voidling again threw itself against the force field.
The man turned to George and squinted as he read George’s shirt. “Were you really left for dead in Mexico?”
<Name: Pine
Race: Human
Level: 123, D-Grade
Profession: Trial Aficionado
Abilities: Scurrilous Cockroach; Cat of Nine Lives; Dead Last; Where are you going and where have you been?; etc.
House: Harrow.
Guild: Saar
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Blocked.>
>>Well, we found one of the Saars.
“Is that where you got that deathmark?” Pine said.
>>Ah! Our cover is blown. Act natural.
>>This helmet is crap.
“No,” George said. “I got it in my first trial.”
“You are the one that got Charlie, aren’t you? And in your first trial…” Pine said and stared at George for a long time. “Can I tell you something? I never liked the guy.”
“I got lucky,” George said. “It was mostly an accident.”
“Maybe it was,” Pine said. “And maybe it wasn’t. He was arrogant. I bet Charlie took one look at you and thought he saw everything he needed to see.”
“Anyway, don’t worry. I don’t take the deathmark stuff too seriously. There are plenty of other things to worry about than settling a score that isn’t mine,” Pine said.
Then he pointed at a big guy across the room. “Don’t let that guy find out you’ve got a deathmark, though. He calls himself Hollywood Cole,” Pine said. “If he sees you out in the maze, he’ll probably eat some of the little mushrooms he keeps in a storage space and go berserk. If you see that happen, clear out. It isn’t pretty. Or professional.”
“Anyway, he’s a better Saar than I am,” Pine said, adding, “Yeah, I don’t like him either.”
The man Pine pointed at was pacing the length of his portion of the room. His head was completely covered in tattoos and intricate designs. He wore a head-to-toe suit of a dark red material that gleamed like metal but bent with his movements like leather. He seemed to be talking to himself and occasionally pounding a fist against his chest.
The neighbor on George’s other side tapped on the force field, and it made a sound like thick glass. “Hey. Hey, man,” he was talking to Pine. “It says your profession is Trial Aficionado, so you know what you’re doing, right? How does this game work? Why are there so many people in here?”
<Name: Top of the Morning
Race: Human
Level: 49, F-Grade
Profession: N/A
Abilities: Hidebound Interloper
Skill Path:
House: N/A
Guild: N/A
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: N/A>
The young man’s hair was so blonde it was almost white. It ran straight back over his head from his brow. He wore a frayed brown business suit with flip-flops on his feet. His suit was the kind you might expect to be accompanied by a briefcase, but instead, he carried a case that looked like it could have held a violin.
“What kind of a name is Top of the Morning?” Pine said.
“It’s just something I picked up,” he said. “Call me Top.”
“Why would I want to call you Top?” Pine said.
“I don’t know, man,” Top said. “Call me whatever you want. Just tell me what is going to happen next. How does this one work?”
“Well, in a minute or two, a few people will explode,” Pine said. “And then someone is going to show up and explain the rules. Then, we’ll pick power orbs, and the hunting round will begin. And then you might find out what Trial Aficionado means.”
“Wait, explode?” he said. “Who is going to explode? I might explode?”
“No, not you,” Pine said. “See for yourself. Here we go.”
Pine pointed at the older woman who had been crying on the ground but had now fallen silent. She was looking at her hands, which had been covering her face but were now bright with blood. Two smeared trails of blood ran from her eyes. Blood was also coming from her ears and soaking into the shoulders of her simple dress. Her eyes had become entirely black.
Pine had set his tea aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He had a focused look and a vague smile on his face. As the woman’s moans rose to a scream, Pine said, “And there goes the other one.”
The large lizard man on the other side of the room bent double, coughing a splatter of blood onto the ground. He let out a roar and pounded at his gut. The whole room had gone still except for the voidling and a hairy hyena-looking creature, who both appeared to have been driven into a frenzy by the presence of the blood.
Both the older woman and the lizard man were writhing on the ground now, and then the woman did, in fact, explode. She burst and splattered across every inch of her section of the room like she was a water balloon instead of a person. The lizard man froze when he saw what had happened to the woman, and then he exploded, too. Blood and bits of bone covered the force field surrounding their enclosures, where it sizzled briefly, and then all the gore just absorbed into the wall and floor and boiled off the force fields. In two minutes, there were only a few pieces of the lizard man’s shattered armor and the shredded pieces of the woman’s dress.
The man Pine had called Hollywood Cole walked as far as he could toward the center of the room, pounding his chest with one hand and holding the other in the air.
“Saar!” he shouted into the stunned silence that followed the two explosions. “Saar! Saar!” His voice was strangely amplified and filled the room so that even the voidling and the hyena momentarily fell still.
Hollywood Cole pointed at Pine, who raised his teacup back to his fellow Saar in response.
Pine turned his head to George and said, “They both had deathmarks, but how did we miss you, George? Hmm.”
George didn’t know what to say as Pine watched him and sipped from his tea. George turned away from Pine and turned to Top, who looked like he was trying not to throw up.
>>What do you bet our frenemy Murdo of the Shady Deal had something to do with that?
>>If he were trying to stack the deck for Prince Neco, it wouldn’t do if one of his inside men exploded three minutes into the trial.
>>Speaking of our fair prince… where is that guy?
The player counter on the wall had changed when the lady and the lizard died.
Red Team: 13
Blue Team: 15
Total Players remaining: 28
>>Hey, Identify. Which one of these goons is Prince Neco?
A figure on the right side of the room lit up with a soft blue glow, and a faint white line stretched from George to the prince, then disappeared.
<Name: Prince Neco
Race: Sylph, augmented
Level: 102, D-Grade
Profession: Royal Family, Second Tier
Class: Cutthroat Spyrer
Abilities: Flawless Victory; Point Break; Overclock; Standard Deviation; etc.
Titles: Prince of the Rook; Slumming It; Five for Five.
House: The Rook
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: ????Something about what the royal family of the Rook is all about. >
Neco had vaguely elvish features, with a long face and a slightly pointed nose. His blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. He wore a complicated suit of black armor hung with supple straps and a handful of elegant, cruel-looking accessories. He wore gleaming silver forearm bracers that each sported twin barrels that looked like they might be great for shooting something.
>>Well, well. We just met, and I already don’t like him.
>>What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when his future bung palsy reaches the “migratory barnacles” stage.
>>Then comes the “teleportive bowel slippage” stage, then… implosion.
>>Finally, what is left is more bung than man…
Pine raised his voice and addressed Top again, “So, Top. As I said, two people will explode, and then someone will explain the rules, but I think we still have a few minutes if you’d like to hear how I think this trial will go down.”
That was when Top lost his battle with holding down his vomit. He rushed to the wall and threw up against it. Like the blood, Top’s last meal glistened on the wall momentarily and then disappeared.
“Trial Aficionado means that guy is slippery as hell,” the woman on the other side of Top’s section said. “Don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”
“June,” Pine smiled at her. “You’re alive.”
<Name: June Dolora
Race: Re-enchanted Human
Level: 91, E-Grade
Class: Priestess of Nyx
Holy Gifts: Shroud of Nyx; Dolora’s Lament; Bitch, Please!
Holy Traits: Not Much of a Priestess; Why, God?
Holy Relics: Nightbeam Staff
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Nyx is the goddess of night, spirits, and cold revenge. She walks the sidereal vacuum at the inner rim of the void and is often depicted with two faces: one smiling, one enraged. It is understood that both faces mean the same thing. Her acolytes earn double experience when drunk, standing in shadow, or holding a grudge.>
“As for being a bad Saar,” June went on. “This one is as Saar as they come. If you have a deathmark under that helmet, stay the hell away from him.”
June had the gravely voice of a pack-a-day smoker. Her tanned face looked weather-beaten and was criss-crossed with lines. Her grey and black hair floated in wisps around her head. Her whole body was hidden inside an ankle-length black coat. She held a staff that was taller than she was that she leaned on like a walking stick.
“June, don’t scare the poor man. He’s only level 17, and we were just getting to know one another,” Pine said.
Pine turned back to Top and said, “Top, my advice for a guy like you is to keep your head down. Find a hidey-hole and hope nothing finds you,” Pine continued. “Vote with the majority and try to attach yourself to someone who will last longer than a few rounds.”
“Hey, priest lady,” Top said. “Should we all just hide out there? Is this guy full of shit?”
“I told you what I think of him. When the game begins, you’ll have to make your own decisions, won’t you?”June said, “I have not been in this trial before. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has; however, you can bet anything he tells you will only serve his own agenda.”
“It is the swarmers you will have to watch out for, Top,” Pine said. “I count at least three, and if this game goes long, they are going to make things… tricky.”
“What are swarmers?” George asked.
“Everyone develops strategies to survive the trials. Swarmers go for the strength-in-numbers approach. Trials are generally individual affairs, so swarmers try to multiply after the trial begins. Hence, the longer a trial goes on, the more there are. It isn’t a bad strategy.”
“So, which ones are swarmers?” Top said, tapping on the force field to get Pine’s attention again. “And what do we do about it?”
Pine pointed to another woman sitting on the ground with pitch-black skin and leathery wings curled around herself, “See that bat lady? She’s not so much of a person as a walking egg, and this is the last we’ll see of her. She’ll stick herself to some dark corner and begin her brood cycle. Some nasty little creatures called vordigans will hatch out of her in an hour or so. They can mimic voices, and they are basically all teeth, claws, and muscles. They like to hide in weird places and can completely flatten themselves. They don’t like light. Every batch always has at least one more brood mother, sometimes two, so the longer the trial goes on, the more vordigans hatch. If you see the brood mother before she hatches, do us a favor and kill her with fire.”
“And there is that scrawny, dime store necromancer next to the little girl. He’s sure to cause trouble. Swarming is a necromancer’s stock and trade,” Pine said.
<Name: Ezra Deathmantle
Race: Mottled Fleshling
Level: 47, F-Grade
Class: Neophyte Necromancer Prodigy
Abilities: Corpse Kerfuffle; Lemonade For One
Metadata—Encyclopedia Esoterica: Necromancers use death essence to manifest a host of death-related effects, including but not limited to undead resurrection, bone spear, imbue skeleton, flesh golem, corpse explosion, etc. Necromancers are known for the power and efficacy of their skill tree and for the consequent antipathy others show toward them. The average life expectancy for Necromancers is a paltry four trials, a stat only softened by the fact that, upon the event of their death, all Necromancers are raised as some form of undead.>
“Where do they get these names?” Pine said, “Odds are, someone will kill that guy before he gets going, but if one of these stronger players gets reanimated, or if there are other non-player creatures out there, we could have a lot of zombies on our hands.”
>>Neophyte Necromancer is like getting a job in death’s mailroom.
>>But zombies are the worst. Let’s hope that guy gets got.
As if on cue, the third swarmer, the glowing dog-sized pile of green slime in another part of the room, let out a sound like a guttural, drawn-out bloooorrrrpppp, and then it began to vibrate and ripple with contractions.
>>Look at that thing! Its mother was probably a vat of something.
With another moan that walked the fine line between ecstasy and pain, the slime sprayed a wad of green jelly onto the floor in front of itself. The new, small glob of slime collected itself into a pile and then started to pulse with light in time with the larger slime.
>>Did that thing just do what I think it did?
>>If you’re thinking that it just crapped out a clone, then yes, I suspect it did.
“And there is our third swarmer,” Pine said. “Don’t let it touch you.”
“OK, trial guy,” Top said. “If trials are for individuals, why does that guy have those women with him?” Top asked, pointing at a skinny middle-aged man standing over three seated women in front of him.
“June, do you want to take this one?” Pine said, but she only raised her middle finger at Pine and said nothing.
“Everything in this game can be bought and sold, and there are 100 exceptions to any rule, which is another way to say that if you are strong enough, there are no rules,” Pine said. “This includes the rule that everyone enters trials alone. My guess is that those four have been bound with a wager stone, a rare item that makes binding contracts between individuals. The holder of the stone sets the terms, and if the vassals break the contract, they die. Some people use it to bring cannon fodder into a trial with them. It has certain drawbacks, though. The contract only lasts as long as the holder of the wager stone is alive. Hence, the wager part. It makes the holder of the stone a tempting target of their would-be allies.”
“Isn’t that right, June?” Pine said, but June did not acknowledge the comment.
“OK,” Pine said, setting his mug down and turning to face his neighbors. “I gave you a load of life-saving information there, Top. What do I get in return?”
“I don’t know, man,” Top said. “How about you don’t kill me, and I don’t kill you out there. Deal?”
“I am not worried about you killing me, Top. Try again.”
“Wait, are you serious? You want me to pay you for answering my question?” Top said.
“Yes. I am serious. I’ve just given you information about your three most likely causes of death. How do you think I got that information? It didn’t come cheap. Why should I give it away for free?”
“Oh,” Top said.
“How about this? I’ll take you under my wing,” Pine said. “I’ll help you make it through this trial, and in return, you put your vote where I tell you to put it. We’ll meet in the hunting rounds, and I’ll watch your back.”
“Like we are on a team?” Top said.
“Exactly. Just like we are on a team,” Pine said.
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good to me,” Top said. Then, he looked at June and George and said, “How about you guys? Do you want to join our team?”
June just said, “Go fuck yourself.”
George said nothing.
“Look at us all getting along,” Pine said. “This is why I love the trials. They forge strangers into the most unlikely families.”
“So how do I find you out there whenever this round is done?” Top asked.
“You just stay put. I’ll find you,” Pine said, shifting his gaze to George and giving him a quick wink.
“Ok. Sounds good to me,” Top said. He blew out a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty hands on the legs of his slacks.
Pine said, “Also when you get to choose ability orbs, try to get the ones called ‘Full On Switcharoo’ and ‘Nip It In the Bud.’ Got it?”
“OK, cool. I’ll try to get those ones,” Top said. “Are they good or something?”
“Yeah. You’ll see,” Pine said.
>>This deal has “cannon fodder” and “shakedown” written all over it. Do you want to tell him, or shall I?
>>Neither.
>>Pine has sort of like Jeff Probst-meets-Randall Flagg-vibe.
>>He seems like your classic functional-but-murdery sociopath.
>>Yet, I feel strangely drawn to him.
>>Go figure.
>>I think that says a lot about you, Nod.
>>Fair point, my friend. Fair point.
A chime sounded, and a round opening appeared in the center of the room. A platform slowly rose from the opening, carrying a tall, slender figure. When the platform was level with the floor, the room fell silent. Even the stranger creatures stopped screeching and attacking the force field that imprisoned them to look at the newcomer.
“Welcome to the trial,” the figure said. “I am Razza, and I will be your moderator.”