As I trudged on, the initial thrill and euphoria I'd felt after conquering the dungeon had long evaporated, replaced by a melancholic emptiness left by Merlin's departure. My journey became a rhythmic cycle of walking, breathing, and pausing for an energy drink. Rinse and repeat. As the sun gave way to the dual moons casting their ethereal blue glow upon the world, the distant flicker of yellow lights signaled a nearing civilization.
“Who goes there? state your purpose!” A voice thundered from the forest when I neared the settlement. Emerging from the shadows, two imposing figures materialized, donned in what appeared to be guard uniforms. “Speak now, stranger, or prepare to cross steel!”
I raised my hands. “No need for that. I’m Tim, and I’m sent here from Merlin the Wizard.”
The men relaxed slightly. “Ah, another adventurer, then?” The largest of the men stepped forward, allowing me to take in his formidable presence. Years of combat had honed his muscular frame into an indomitable force. A greatsword, as worn and scarred as its wielder, was fastened securely across his back, its battle-marred surface a testament to the relentless intensity of its master. I angled my body in a vain attempt to hide the oversized toothpick that was hanging from my belt.
“Yes, I guess I am. I’m looking for Flurin Buttmel.”
“So, you're a Bard, then? It's been quite a while since we've had one of those in town, hasn't it, Lars?”
The other guard let out a hearty laugh. “Indeed, it has. Well, good luck, Bard. May your melodies be as sharp as your wit.” Lars retorted, his voice dripping with mockery as he emphasized the words ‘Bard,’ ‘sharp,’ and ‘good luck.’ They shared another round of laughter, and for a moment, I felt like I'd regressed to my childhood and the painful days of being the local bully's favorite target. Their chuckles echoed in my ears as they faded back into the dark forest.
Calling it a town was like calling a Kobold a Dwarf. I’d been to many different towns, but this one could barely qualify. It was a single-street settlement with buildings erected haphazardly from weathered wood and faded brick, leaning on each other for mutual support.
The main path was a worn stone road, its cobblestones long since rendered jagged and uneven by the elements. Potholes marked the route like irregular stitches in an old quilt.
Despite its downtrodden appearance, the village pulsed with quiet energy. Every cracked window, every warped door, and every crumbling rooftop told tales of countless quest-givers, epic battles fought, and legendary heroes passing through.
The very first building on my left was the Inn – Duckville Inn, and I suddenly felt an intense urge for a good night’s sleep.
The Inn was not as I had expected. I’d imagined it to look like a Wild West saloon of sorts, but the reality was quite different. This place was an explosion of color. Vibrant green walls contrasted sharply with crimson tables and chairs doused in a bold shade of yellow. Dominating the room's center was a massive fireplace, its crackling flames casting dancing shadows and a comforting warmth that seemed to seep into every corner. The stone mantle above it was adorned with an array of whimsical trinkets and keepsakes. Despite the sparse crowd, the atmosphere was jovial, with a hum of quiet conversations occasionally punctuated by laughter.
Thankfully, the bar was exactly as I’d expected, boasting the classic, solid wooden counter and rows of various spirits on the back wall.
“Welcome stranger! How may I serve you?” the innkeeper said. He was a rotund man with rosy cheeks, a bushy white beard, and a cordial gleam in his eyes, dressed in a simple tunic and apron.
“Thank you. I wonder if you have a room for hire.”
“Well, of course, we have, what kind of inn would we have been if not? It’s 25 peng for the smallest, and 50 for the largest.”
Relieved I opened my coin purse and presented it to the innkeeper. The warmth from the roaring fireplace had already begun to invigorate my travel-weary body.
The innkeeper’s brow furrowed. "This is only 15 peng."
"What? That can't be right. There are at least a hundred in here," I protested, snatching it from his hands and emptying its contents onto the counter.
"Ah, well, you see, a single Peng equates to seventy-five of these Ora’s." The innkeeper said, pointing at one of the coins… Then I remembered Merlin's parting advice: trust no one.
I narrowed my eyes and leaned towards him. “OK? Can you show me a Peng?"
“As long as you don't run off with it,” the innkeeper said with a suspicious glare as he presented me with a significantly larger and thicker coin. Intricately carved into the coin's surface was a majestic dragon, its wings outstretched in flight, encircling a pair of crossed swords.
Seeing my dilemma, the innkeeper posed a proposition. “You know, there's something you could help me with. See that man over in the corner?” He pointed towards a darkened corner of the inn, where a solitary figure lurked.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
I squinted into the gloom, barely making out the outline of the individual. “Yes?”
“I want him out. He's been there for days, hardly buying anything and repelling my customers with his stench.”
I noticed that the patrons were clustered on the opposite side of the room, as far away from the corner as possible.
“Rid me of him, and you can stay here for free for as long as you're a guest in Duckville.”
I smiled, my confidence in beating the Kobold boss resurging. Free accommodation for as long as I wanted was a no-brainer. “OK, no problem,” I said and strolled confidently over to the corner.
My grin faded when the odor hit me like a physical blow, an overpowering mix of rot and decay that nearly knocked me off my feet. As I pushed through the stench, the figure's silhouette took form, causing a shiver of dread to run down my spine, and I immediately understood why the innkeeper hadn't dealt with this problem himself.
The upper and lower fangs were clacking against each other as he, or it, snored. I had fought enough of these creatures, digitally, so I knew it was an Ogre. Double the size of a man, three sizes the length of a Dwarf, and ten times the strength. A labyrinth of old scars marred the face, adding to the creature’s intimidating appearance, and on its hip hung a knife as long as my newly acquainted rapier. I even thought I could see dried blood on it when the flickering lights from the fireplace made it’s way to the corner.
It was not worth dying for a bed.
I turned to walk, but as I did, a deep, guttural voice boomed from behind, "DO YOU WANT?"
I spun on my heel and found myself staring at the giant ogre's bellybutton.
“I…I’m sorry to have awakened you,” I stammered, trying to recover my wits under the ogre's imposing stature. “Uhm.. ehm…I…I wonder if you maybe can sit somewhere else? You scare the customers in the Inn, and…Well. you haven’t really bought anything…”
The ogre ended my stuttering plea when he placed his gargantuan hand on my shoulder. The weight was crushing, and I had to grit my teeth and focus all my strength to keep from dropping to my knees. Adrenaline flooded my system as I realized I probably had bitten off more than I could chew. I had the perfect mockery ready, but I somehow knew that the only thing I would achieve was to piss him off further.
“GRUGNUR IS SAD. NOBODY WANTS GRUGNUR. AND NOW, YOU MAKE HIM GO?”
As I looked up to meet his gaze, I was caught off guard by the sadness in his eyes, a stark contrast to his hulking exterior.
At that moment, I realized that my real-life superpower of being a skilled salesman would serve me better than brute force. After all, connecting with people was my greatest strength. "Would you like to have a chat? I could buy you a drink if you'd like," I offered, trying to defuse the tense situation.
"MJØD," Grugnur responded, dropping heavily back onto the chair with a thud that made the entire inn shudder.
"What do you think you're doing? I wanted you to get him out, not make him comfortable!" the innkeeper hissed when I ordered ad Mjød and a beer, frustration clear on his face.
“I’m doing what you told me to. I’ll get him out of here,” I said, holding his glare with my own determined look. “But given Grugnur's size, a physical confrontation isn't exactly feasible, is it? My best option is to talk him out of here.”
“That will be 1,5 Peng,” the innkeeper said, still looking at me with narrow eyes.
“What!? I am doing this for you, you sly devil.” I was flustered but decided not to let this hiccup ruin my plan. Tossing the pouch of coins onto the counter with a thud, I collected our drinks and made my way back to Grugnur.
“Here you go. Now, please tell me what’s the matter.”
Grugnur drank half the mug in one sip, his throat working rapidly.
"GRUGNUR LONELY. MARTHA THREW ME OUT," he rumbled after a moment, his voice heavy with emotion.
“Martha?”
“GRUGNURS WIFE. LOVE. SOULMATE. I MISS HER SO…” His sentence broke off into a mighty sob that echoed through the inn.
I took another sip of the surprisingly good beer, waiting for his wailing to subside before I asked. “Why did she throw you out?”
"LOST MARTHA'S RING. GRUGNUR THROWN OUT OF HOME."
I thought about the ring I’d found earlier but quickly dismissed the idea - it was too small to fit an ogre. But how could an ogre lose a ring? It would probably fit me as a bracelet. Then again, I had lost my car a few times back in the real world.
“How did you lose it?”
"GRUGNUR DON'T KNOW. WAS CLEANING HOUSE AND RING GONE," he said, looking forlorn.
It was comforting to know that even in this new reality, no matter if you’re a gigantic scarred ogre, domestic duties persisted. Then a possible solution dawned on me. I just needed to help Grugnur mend his relationship with this Martha and then I could finally have a peaceful night's sleep in a warm bed.
***
"MARTHA LOVE. PLEASE OPEN UP," Grugnur boomed, thumping a huge fist on the door of house number 11. The homes here huddled together on this one road, all looked very much alike, and this was no exception. Despite its seeming normalcy, something felt off. It was the kind of home one might expect a small human family to inhabit, not an enormous, intimidating ogre.
“Have you found my ring!?” A voice shrieked from within. Grugnur looked at me, his eyes pleading. I gave him a reassuring nod.
"SOMEONE HELP RING FIND!" He bellowed back, loud enough to ensure that every resident of Duckville heard it. For a moment, everything went silent. Then, slowly, the door began to creak open. I braced myself, preparing a quick retort for whatever situation we were about to face.
As a salesman, I had learned not to act surprised when the telephone voice didn’t fit the face. But nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Martha standing in the doorway.
“Who are you?” she said, one hand resting defiantly on her hip. She epitomized beauty, with her long blonde hair cascading over her bare, human-like shoulders. Her high cheekbones and dazzling blue eyes were incredibly captivating, so much so that I found myself at a loss for words.
“What? Let me guess, not what you expected. Now, tell me, who are you and how are you going to find my ring?” she demanded.
I was dumbstruck. She was a sight to behold, a Blood Elf, if my memory served me right, barely a tenth of Grugnur's size yet radiating a mesmerizing presence.
“Uh, I... I am good at finding things?” I stuttered, my voice barely above a whisper. Her striking expression shifted abruptly as she sized me up, her hand dropping from her hip.
“Gruggie, invite your friend inside,” she said.
Gruggie? I Stepped inside their oddly mundane home. Grugnur followed closely behind, engaging in a rapid conversation with Martha in a language I failed to understand. But at this point, the strangeness of the day had lost its shock value, and the surprising romance of a Blood Elf and an Ogre was the cherry on the top.
Suddenly, a hollow echo rang through the room followed by an intense, throbbing pressure building in my head. And then, abruptly, the world dissolved into darkness.