Running through the forest at full speed was fun; on the other hand, needing to run through the forest at break-neck speed because you were being chased by three huge wolves was not very fun. Grog finally found what he was looking for and veered right toward the edge of a small grotto. The mostly exposed cave had rugged stone walls that would provide good handholds. But the steepness of the entrance would be difficult for anyone to climb.

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 let it hold up one more time." Just then, 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 of the wolves were most likely stunned, but he did not have time to check for sure as the other eighty pounds of canine flesh lept over his head and cleared the shield. Spinning around to face this attacker, Grog lifted his mace. The momentum of the third wolf, who had landed on a particularly steep portion of the entrance, carried it scrabbling and whining down the hill into the grotto, the moss and leaves too slick a footing to climb.

Grog spun around again to the other two wolves. As he did, he felt a sharp pinch and saw his health bar slide below fifty percent. His mana and stamina bars were also low. He had enough mana for one more heal, but he was done running until he got some serious rest. Looking down at his leg, he saw that one of the wolves had not been stunned but instead had latched onto his calf with its powerful jaws. His mace descended to smash into the wolf’s rib cage, its bite releasing spasmodically.

“Yes!” Otis, the little green orc on Grog’s shoulder, pumped his fist in victory.

Unlike Otis, Grog hated killing animals like these wolves; their dying cries ripped at his soul. But he had to grab this opportunity while it was available.

He could hear the other wolf sliding further into the grotto, so he focused on the one on the ground in front of him. This one was out cold. He stepped over it and gave it a quick shove down the slope. It slid into the grotto, coming to a stop next to the other wolf who had stopped trying to climb out.

Grog could have easily stood there and thrown rocks at the wolves, but he couldn’t take more animal killing today. He bent down and touched the dead wolf, 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 green hands together in glee.

"Okay, what is this Power and Orb I have received," Grog asked.

"Power gives you 1% attack and defense bonus each. Skill Orbs cost one power to equip."

"So what can I do with a Pet Skill Orb of Wolf?" Grog said as he summoned the orb into his hands, examining it. The item was about the size of a softball, glowed green, and was warm to the touch.

Otis flipped out his tome and flipped some pages. "This orb has two charges. The first must be used to take a wolf as a pet; the wolf must be within four levels of you." The green orc looked up, "All good on that point." He looked down again, "The second charge can be used to give a skill to the first wolf or to take a second wolf as a pet.

"Okay, one last question then. What happens if a pet dies?"

Otis replied quickly this time. "They will respawn, but not like a player does. Sometime over the next day, they will just show up where you are. If you are inside a building or dungeon, then they will be there when you exit."

Grog nodded as the orb disappeared from his hand. Soon he felt a new presence in his mind, actually two, as he connected to his new pets. As he focused on each wolf, he could see what they were seeing and got a sense of their state. Both wolves were starving hungry. He summoned two pieces of beef jerky from his inventory and threw one to each wolf. They immediately ate the jerky, loudly chewing in the process. Four pieces of jerky later, his wolves were satisfied. Now, thought Grog, let's figure out how to get you out of there.

Grog made his way back to the small camp he had made for himself near the edge of the swamp. He had chosen a small hill that poked its head above many of the surrounding trees and provided an amazingly good vantage point. Grog had spent the majority of his life alone in a cell, and he still felt more comfortable when he was not around a lot of people.

As he neared the top of the hill, his wolves darted ahead to check out the encampment. Through their eyes, Grog noticed that his fire pit was still smoking, which meant the meat he was drying would have a good flavor. His tent was where he had left it, and nothing appeared to be disturbed. He was constantly amazed that this place was uninhabited and that no one else had yet pushed through the dense tangle of bushes and branches that surrounded 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 shield he had received upon entering the game, and he was sure it was just not up to the force that the higher-level creatures could exert on it. He had been praying that God would provide a new shield for him like the mace that had dropped when he was level two from a group of kobolds he had run across. But it looked like his Lord would answer that plea with a "no" for now. He sighed as he decided it was finally 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 while then realized he was just delaying. The sun was just coming over the horizon as he steeled himself and began the march to town.

An hour later, Grog strode into Khigar. Lumbering is how Grog viewed most of the other orcs he had met. He refused to walk that way; he held his head high and looked people in the eye. But, behind his confident exterior, there 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.

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Early morning was the best time to be in town. It was good to be up and about while many of the lumberers slumbered. As Grog walked into the market, he noticed with satisfaction that there were not many around. There were always a few humans among the milling crowds of orcs, normally 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 underling of the mad god.

The vendor at the weapons booth looked him up and down as he approached, and by the time he had arrived at the booth, the NPC was wiping dust off a metal shield with a spike in the middle.

"I am guessing from the looks of that wreck on your arm that you are looking for a new shield." The vendor was a very light-skinned orc whose name was Yarig.

"Well, Yarig, 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 shield 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 slightly reduce the chance to stun. In my mind, it is totally worth the trade-off."

"How do they work against multiple opponents?"

"The damage will only affect one of them, but it is basically unchanged beyond that.

"How much?" Grog asked, fearing the response.

"For you, eight silver."

Grog blanched. He knew this was easily twice the value of the item, and he hated to barter. But, all of his coin was simply on loan from God, and he knew 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 just below the arm straps."

"What does it do?"

"No one knows." The vendor admitted. “But many have tried it on for size and then taken it off so we know it is not cursed in any way.”

"Okay then, I will take it for four silver."

It was the vendor’s turn to blanch now, "Six?"

Grog could tell Yarig was not confident in that price. "Four plus twenty-five copper, and that is my final offer."

"Five?" the vendor almost pleaded, but Grog turned his back and began to walk away.

"Okay, Four twenty-five it is friend, but you owe me a favor."

"No favors," Grog objected but held out the requested price in his large green hand.

"No favors," The vendor agreed with a small sigh. "I have the feeling that you got the much better end of that deal, friend."

Grog slid his arm through the straps and attached the shield to his arm as he thought, No friends either. No one I want for a friend around here anyway.

**********

Upon returning home, Grog fed his wolves some meat, laid down inside his small shelter, and logged into his offline home to call pastor Joe.

“Hey, Wayne!”

Wayne felt a tinge of nervousness standing in front of his friend, pastor Joe. It had been years since he had been able to stand around anyone.

“Hey, pastor Joe! Great to see you!”

“Look at you, man, standing up on your own two feet; you look amazing! If you don’t mind, could you show me how you look in-game? I am terribly curious.”

Grog looked around his menus and found the one to toggle his avatar during video calls.

“Wow,” Pastor Joe said, “you actually look terrifying. I would not want to tangle with you over anything.”

Grog couldn’t suppress a smile at this. “But,” Grog replied, “God is much more terrifying than any orc. I also toned it down a lot, made my character look as human as possible.”

“That may be a very smart move, given what I have to tell you,” Joe said. “I mentioned that student of mine who went into the game, right?”

Grog nodded.

Joe continued, “Well, he is in desperate need of a fighter to join his party, and when I told him that I thought you were a fighter, he asked me to reach out to you to ask if you would consider joining them.”

Grog thought for a moment. “Is the party all Christians?”

“From what Lance told me they are,” Joe said, “never sure how committed anyone is, but he said that they all name the name of 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 really something he was comfortable with. But pastor Joe had said this would be a chance 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 that orc characters are prison inmates.”

“Anytime you join a church, you are taking a chance. There are judgemental 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 that 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, I think that Lance would consider it a blessing if you were to join him.”

“Okay, I guess that is something that I should consider,” Wayne said.

“Well, consider it quickly. I told Lance I thought you would accept, and he suggested that you meet him where the river flows into the lake on the East side of the starting area. 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 really sounds like a great guy, Grog thought as he trudged through the forest. But saying we should meet at the inlet of a river to a big lake somewhere on the East side of the starting area is a little vague.

He continued to move quietly through the forest with his wolves Lightning, and Cinder, at his side. He looked at his companions, fondly remembering his joy when he had received the popup.

Ultimately it had been a simple process getting the wolves out of the grotto. He had climbed down into the grotto with them and helped them out, simply placing his shield behind them and pushing them until they could climb out the last bit. Once he had them both out, they had rushed and pushed him over, but a moment of tension had disappeared when they had begun licking his face. He could hardly remember any time happier in his life than those moments. Naming them had been harder, but he had eventually found names that fit them. Lightning was quick-tempered and powerful. 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 moment when his ears picked up the sound of running water ahead. He stopped and signaled for the wolves to do the same. He had found that things like rivers tended to attract both predator and prey. He crept down the heavily wooded incline until he could see the river. When he could, he stopped and crouched down.. The river was a fast-running, bubbly, and joyful sort of waterway, the kind found in the beginnings of fairy stories. But he knew most of those stories, at least the old ones, turned dark fairly quickly. So Grog sat with his wolves for several minutes, scanning the banks of the river and the river itself.

Eventually, Grog gained enough confidence to venture down; once he was at the river’s edge, he immediately filled his water skins. Always good to have full water skins. Standing up, he began to carefully pick his way downstream. His wolves were like shadows flitting in and out of the trees higher up the bank.

Suddenly he heard, he was not sure what it was, maybe the best way to describe it was "extra splashing", coming from behind him. He spun around to see a large stately man made entirely of water standing knee-deep in the river.

The sprite’s head slowly 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 tag meant one thing, "Run!”

The wolves heard his cry and began running downstream with him as Grog angled his path up the bank a little to get away from the water. Ahead, maybe sixty feet away, he could see the edge of the forest; he pushed himself to run faster as his breath came in gulps. He did not look over his shoulder as he knew that would only slow him down, and he also knew that his wolves, who were running slowly to allow him to keep up, had plenty of time to look back and warn him if anything needed his attention.

He could still hear the splashing behind him, and it was not fading, so he did not slow down as he broke from the cover of the trees into the open. When his eyes adjusted, he saw, about forty feet in front of him, a small group of three humans, and one of them seemed to be 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 met the right humans.