But the wolves were too close for him to climb out without them dragging him back into the grotto. He spun around and began to pray. Lord, don't let it break; please allow it to hold up one more time. The three wolves swerved to follow him, their sharp claws shredding the mossy ground that covered much of this part of the forest. He pushed his shield arm forward as he activated his Shield Bash ability.
The first two pursuers slammed into the shield, which groaned distressingly under their combined weight but held. Grog offered a quick prayer of thanks. Both wolves were most likely stunned, but he did not have time to check for sure as the other eighty pounds of canine flesh leapt over his head. Spinning around to face this attacker, he lifted his mace. The momentum of the third wolf, who had landed on a steep portion of the entrance, carried it scrabbling and whining down into the grotto, the moss and leaves too slick a footing to climb.
Grog twisted to face the other two. As he did, he felt a sharp pinch, and his health bar slid below fifty percent. His power and stamina bars were also low. He had enough mana for one more heal, but he was done running until he got some rest. One of the wolves had not been stunned and had latched onto his calf with its jaws. His mace descended to smash into the wolf's rib cage, its bite releasing spasmodically.
"Yes!" Otis pumped his fist in victory.
Unlike Otis, Grog hated killing animals; their dying cries ripped at his soul. But he had to grab this opportunity while it was available.
The other wolf slid further, so he focused on the one on the ground before him. This one was out cold. He stepped over it and gave it a quick shove down the slope. It came to a stop next to the other, who was no longer trying to climb out.
He could throw rocks at the wolves, but he couldn't take more animal killing today. He bent down and touched the dead one, and it disappeared.
"What in blazes are you doing," Otis complained on Grog's shoulder, "You are leaving a ton of experience points down in that ditch."
"Unlike little green orcs, I don't like killing animals," Grog smiled at his assistant, softening the blow a little.
"Gotcha, boss, but please don't go all peace and love on me, okay?"
"Naw," Grog replied, "There will be plenty of blood."
Otis rubbed his little hands together in glee.
"What is this Energy and Orb," Grog asked.
"Energy gives you a 1% attack and defense bonus. Skill Orbs cost one to equip."
"So what can I do with a Pet Skill Orb of Wolf?" Grog said as he summoned the orb and examined it. The item was about the size of a softball, glowed green, and was warm to the touch.
Otis flipped out his tome and turned some pages. "This orb contains two charges. The first must be used to take a wolf as a pet; the target needs to be within four levels of you." The orc glanced up, "These wolves qualify." He looked down again, "The second charge can be used to give a skill to the first or to take another wolf as a pet.
"Okay, one last question. What happens if one of them dies?"
"They will respawn, but not like a player does. Sometime over the next day, they will show up where you are. If you go inside a building or dungeon, they will be waiting when you exit."
Grog nodded as the orb disappeared from his hand. Soon, there was a new presence in his mind, two, as he connected to his pets. As he focused on each wolf, he saw what they saw and got a sense of their state. Both were starving. He summoned two pieces of beef jerky from his inventory and threw one to each wolf. They ate the meat ravenously. Four pieces later, his wolves were satisfied. Now , thought Grog, let's figure out how to get you out.
After the wolves were out of the grotto, he made his way back to the small camp he had created for himself near the swamp. He had chosen a hill that poked its head above many surrounding trees and provided an amazing vantage point. He had spent most of his life alone in a cell, and he still felt more comfortable when he was not around people.
As he neared the top, his wolves darted ahead to check out his encampment. Through their eyes, Grog noticed his fire pit was still smoking, which meant the meat he was drying would have a smoky flavor. His animal skin tent was where he had left it, and nothing was disturbed. He was amazed that this place was uninhabited and that no one else had yet pushed through the dense tangle of bushes and branches surrounding the hill and discovered his home.
He walked over to the fire, turned the meat over, added a little wood, and sat down to examine his shield.
This was the one he had received upon entering the game, and he was sure it was simply not up to the force the higher-level creatures exerted on it. He had been praying God would provide a new one for him, like the mace that had dropped from a group of kobolds he had run across. But it looked like his Lord would answer his plea with a "no" for now. He sighed as he decided it was time to go into town again.
Before he departed, he made a basic lean-to structure for the wolves and instructed them to guard the camp while he was gone. He rubbed their ears for a bit, then realized he was delaying. The sun was coming over the horizon as he steeled himself and began the march to town.
An hour later, Grog strode into Khigar. Lumbering is how he viewed most of the other orcs he had met. He refused to walk like that; he held his head high and looked people in the eye. But behind his confident exterior was fear. Having leveled up a couple of times, he had greater confidence now, but he still hated crowds. As far as he knew, all of the other orcs in the game with him were inmates, many of whom had sworn to kill him for 'ratting' on their leaders. Being in a crowd was terrifying, so he kept to the edges and, when possible, used side streets.
The town was made up of squat stone buildings with low doorways. Businesses were identified by sandwich boards placed out front during the day and brought inside by night. Several of these had already been defaced with scratched gang symbols, racial slurs, and swear words.
Early morning was the best time to be in town. It was wise to be up and about while the lumberers slumbered. As Grog walked into the market, he realized with satisfaction that few were around. There were always a few humans among the milling crowds of orcs, black-robed worshippers of Dajixian, the chaotic evil god of orcs. He figured they were slinking off to do some quest or another on behalf of some servant of the mad god.
The vendor at the weapons booth examined him as he approached. By the time he arrived, the NPC was wiping dust off a steel shield with a spike in the middle.
"I'm guessing, based on the condition of the wreck on your arm, you are looking for a new shield." The vendor was a light-skinned orc.
"Well, you guessed right. Is there any value in this old girl? She has served me well." Grog handed the hunk of metal and wood over to the craftsman.
"I can give you a copper for the metal, but the wood won't even heat my forge." The vendor passed the battered item back to Grog, who dropped it into his inventory.
"Okay, tell me about spikes on shields; how do they work?"
"They add damage to Shield Bash, but they reduce the chance to stun. In my mind, it's worth the trade-off."
"How do they do against multiple opponents?"
"The increased damage will only affect one of them, but it's unchanged beyond that.
"How much?" Grog asked, fearing the response.
"For you, eight silver."
Grog blanched. This was twice the value of the item, and he hated to barter. But, all his coin was on loan from God, and he needed to spend wisely, so he gritted his teeth. "Three silver."
"Naw, friend, this one is magical." he spun the shield around to show Grog a small inscription on the metal below the arm straps."
"What does it do?"
"No one has identified it." The vendor admitted. "But many have tried it on for size and taken it off, so it's not cursed in any way."
"Okay, I will take it for four silver."
It was the vendor's turn to blanch now, "Six?"
Grog could tell the vendor was not confident in his price. "Four plus twenty-five copper, and that's my final offer."
"Five?" the vendor almost pleaded, but Grog turned his back and began to walk away.
"Four twenty-five, it is. But you owe me a favor."
"No favors," Grog objected but held out the requested price in his green hand.
"No favors," The vendor agreed with a small sigh. "You got the much better end of that deal, friend."
Grog slid his arm through the straps and attached the shield as he thought, no friends either. There is no one I want for a friend around here anyway.
Upon returning to his camp, Grog fed his wolves some meat from a deer he had killed, laid down inside his shelter, and logged into his personal instance to call Pastor Joe.
"Hey, Wayne!"
Wayne was nervous standing in front of his friend. It had been years since he had been able to stand, but he pushed down his emotions as he saw his pastor.
"Hey, Pastor Joe! Wonderful to see you!"
"Look at you, man, standing up on your own two feet; you look amazing! If you don't mind, will you show me how you appear in-game? I'm curious."
Grog looked over his menus and found the one to toggle his avatar during video calls.
"Wow," Joe said, "you are terrifying. I would not want to tangle with you over anything."
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Grog couldn't suppress a smile at this. "I toned it down a lot, made my character as human as possible."
"That may have been a smart move, given what I have to tell you," Joe said. "I mentioned a student who went into the game, right?"
Wayne nodded.
"Well, he desperately needs a fighter to join his party, and when I told him you were playing that class, he asked me to reach out to you to ask if you would consider joining them."
Grog thought for a second. "Is the group all believers?"
"From what Lance told me, they are," Joe said. "You can never be sure how committed anyone is, but he said they all name Jesus, or at least as much as they can in the game."
Grog had to push down his fear for a moment. Being around other people, even non-inmates, was not something he was comfortable with. But Joe had said this would be an opportunity to grow as a person. Maybe this was part of what he meant. "It might be something I would consider. But would they accept me? Everyone knows orc characters are prisoners."
"Anytime you join a group or a church, you are taking a chance. There are judgmental people and prejudiced people all throughout those who claim to worship God," Joe looked thoughtful for a moment and then continued, "But I know Lance well enough to tell you he would not allow that kind of stupidity in the group he is forming."
"I wouldn't want to cause any trouble," Wayne said.
"Nope, he would count it a blessing if you joined him."
"Okay, I guess that is something I should consider."
"Well, consider it quickly. I told him I thought you would accept, and he suggested you meet him where the river flows into the lake on the East side of the human starting area. Do you know where that is?"
Grog nodded with a wry smile on his face, "I can figure it out, and I will head out right away."
Lance sounds like a great guy , Grog thought a little later as he trudged through the forest. But saying we should meet at the inlet of a river to a big lake somewhere to the East of the human settlement is a little vague.
He continued to creep through the trees with his wolves Lightning and Cinder at his side. He glanced down at his pets, remembering his joy when he had received the popup.
It had been a simple process getting his pets out of the grotto. He had climbed down with them and helped them out, placing his shield behind them and shoving them until they could climb out the last bit. Once they were all out, they had rushed and pushed him over, but a moment of tension had disappeared when they began licking his face. He couldn't remember any happier time in his life than those moments. Naming them had been harder, but he had eventually discovered names to fit them. Lightning was quick-tempered and fast. Cinder was more of a slow burn but never failed at any task he was set to.
Grog's attention snapped back to the present when his ears picked up the sound of running water ahead. He stopped and signaled for the wolves to do the same. Things like rivers attracted both predators and prey. He crept down the wooded incline until he found it. He crouched down. The waterway was fast-running, bubbly, and joyful, the kind from the beginnings of fairy stories. But he had read most of those, and the old ones tended to turn dark. So Grog sat with his companions for several minutes, scanning the banks of the river and the river itself. The forest was dark with pine and cedar trees, blocking much of the light. The river was filled with sandstone and moss, and the banks were covered in ferns that swayed slightly in the breeze.
Eventually, he gained the confidence to venture down. At the river's edge, he filled his water skins. Getting up, he began to pick his way downstream. His wolves were like shadows flitting in and out of the trees higher up the bank.
A sound caught his attention, but he was unsure what he was hearing. The best way to describe it was "extra splashing" coming from behind him. He spun around to find a stately man made entirely of water standing knee-deep in the river.
The sprite's head rotated, and as its eyes fell on Grog, its tag flashed from yellow to red. As far as Grog was concerned, a red level 7 Elite meant one thing, "Run!"
The wolves ran downstream with him as Grog angled his path up the bank a little to create separation from the water. Ahead, sixty feet away, was the edge of the forest; he pushed himself to move faster as his breath came in gulps. He didn't glance over his shoulder as it would only slow him down. His wolves, who moved slowly to allow him to keep up, had plenty of time to look back and warn him if anything needed his attention.
He still heard the splashing behind him, and it was not fading, so he did not slow as he broke from the cover of the trees into the open. About forty feet in front of him stood a small group of three humans, and one of them was preparing to cast a spell at him! He waved his arms over his head and yelled, "I'm Grog, and these are my wolves!" hoping he had found the right humans.
###
As Lance watched an orc running out of the forest, he restrained himself. When two wolves emerged with the orc, his eyes widened. When he identified himself as Grog, he was relieved, but when he saw what was chasing him and his wolves, his eyes widened even further: an elite river sprite with a green tag. Lance stopped and pondered for a moment until he realized creatures that would be friendly to him would not be friendly to an orc. He sent a party invite to Grog, and after a second, he accepted. The tag over the sprite's head snapped to red.
"Fire that spell, Sparky," he yelled. A sizzling bolt of lightning jumped over his shoulder and into the sprite.
The electricity had a stunning effect on the creature; as it struck, the sprite seemed to turn into a mist and then reform. When it was solid again, ten percent of its health was gone. The tag on the sprite changed again, this time to yellow. Stopping rather suddenly, it turned to the party and said, "Why do you attack me, friends?"
"We are attacking because you're chasing our brother," Lance replied.
"You keep strange company, human. The word 'brother' isn't possible in this situation."
"Nevertheless, he is our brother and our friend; if you attack him, you are attacking us."
Cletus appeared in the air in front of Lance, and next to him was a small orc man. A moment later, Edie showed up, keeping her distance from both of the other assistants. Cletus and the orc assistant began making rude signs toward the sprite.
The sprite glitched for a moment and then said, "I do not know how to proceed, so I will return to my patrol route. Do not expect to get off this easily next time, humans."
"And you, orc, if I find you near my river, you will die." The last words were said with an even darker tone. The creature looked at Lance and Grog with a haughty expression before turning around and sliding back up the river.
Grog turned to Lance and said, "Thanks for backing my play."
Lance smiled at the orc. "I meant what I said about you being our brother. Any friend of Pastor Joe's is a friend of mine."
Polly nodded vigorously, and Sparky grinned.
Lance walked over and offered Grog a hand. When the orc took his hand, Lance pulled him into a partial hug, which relaxed Grog.
"We are so glad to meet you," Lance said, "mostly because we are excited to have another believer as part of our group, but also because we need someone to tank for us."
Grog smiled, "Glad my specialization is Tank." He kicked some rocks around on the ground. "I need you to understand that I have been isolated over the last few years, so I'm not sure how good I will be as part of a social group, but tanking is who I am. Making our enemies attack me instead of you is much like what our Lord did on the cross."
Lance nodded to Grog and then noted that Cletus and Otis were making the same rude gestures at each other as they had at the Sprite. "What's up, Cletus?"
Cletus responded without taking his eyes off the small orc. "This... thing is invading my personal space. And I don't like it, not one bit."
Edie, floating in Cletus' direction, nodded. "That thing is scary. Can we kill it?" She began making motions like she would cast a spell at Otis.
"Hold your horses, girl, and settle down, Cletus." Lance said, "I'm afraid that you are both going to need to deal with this. I'm assuming that this 'thing' you are referring to is my friend Grog's assistant?"
"Yeah, he's an orc and nasty," Cletus said.
"I think he probably has cooties or something," Edie added, sliding a little closer to Cletus.
"I doubt there are any cooties, and if we can have access to the wisdom of the Edies, Cletai, and the... Hey Grog, what is your assistant's name?"
"Otis is my name, and helping orcs is the Oti's game," The little green man answered before Grog could say anything.
Lance turned to Otis and offered him a little bow, "We are glad to have you aboard, friend."
The little orc stuttered for a moment, then bowed slightly in reply, "Glad to be aboard."
Cletus huffed and then puffed out of existence. Edie disappeared a moment later.
Lance just shook his head, "Oti!"
Grog shuffled his feet nervously.
"Oh," Lance stammered, "How rude of me."
Pointing to the air caster, he said, "This is Sparky, our illustrious mage."
"Good to meet you, Sparky," Grog said while shaking the man's hand.
"And this is our healer, Polly."
Grog had thought long and hard about the first time he met a woman who was not a prison guard, so he had his response ready. He reached out and took her offered hand by the fingertips and bowed slightly. "My lady."
Polly blushed but responded, "It's my pleasure to meet you, Grog."