YOU HAVE ACCEPTED COURT HOUSE QUEST - Escort the Justicar. Protect the member of the local Judiciary body and escort him safely to the town of Engle.

  No one could really explain why this was such a terrible quest. It seemed easy enough to me. We were supposed to escort this to a small community as there was an important case of justice needed in an isolated village. So we had to walk a lawyer, or was he a judge? For a couple of days to make sure he didn’t get eaten by a rabbit or something.

  “You’ll see” was all Copperbeard muttered.

  The Justicar in question was The Right Honourable Edmund Bartlett-Craven. He was a fussy little man with very expensive-looking tailored robes. We met him outside the Bistmore courthouse. He was waiting outside with a large leather bag and a wooden briefcase. We were expected to carry the large bag but he wouldn’t let anyone touch the briefcase.

  “No no, that is quite alright,” He said when Arjun had reached out to take the wooden container after I had slung the leather bag over my shoulder. “I will carry this. There are very important papers in here.” He said and pushed his spectacles up his nose. His glasses were square and slid right back down. His nose was very short and seemed wholly inadequate as a support for the glasses.

  Arjun shrugged and we were on our way.

  As we left the city I saw a trade caravan leaving, the big, steady oxes walking inexorably forward pulling heavily laden carts.

  “Why do you think they are making him walk.” I asked Darkraven and Arjun who were walking in the back with me. Copperbeard was up ahead chatting with Bartlett-Craven. I had made the mistake of calling him by his first name and had been soundly reprimanded.

  “Because then we wouldn’t have this stupid quest,” Darkraven replied, the ‘duh’ was implied by her tone.

  “Ok but what is the in-game logic?” I asked.

  “Why would you expect that?” Darkraven asked. “Games do this stuff all time.”

  While that was true this game seemed to have logic, an often cruel logic, to the way it worked.

  “Perhaps the traders do not go where this man needs to go.” Arjun offered.

  “Ok but couldn’t they hire someone?”

  “They did, they hired us.”

  Sighing I gave up. This game was unreasonably anti mount.

  The bag over my shoulder, which I assumed held Mr Bartlett-Craven’s clothing and sundries, wasn’t at all heavy with my increased strength, but it did make my back all hot and sweaty.

  The day was very warm and the air hung still without a breeze. The buzz of insects was the loudest sound. Even the birds were dissuaded by the midday heat.

  The oppressive humidity under the trees was only marginally better than the scorching sun where the terrain opened up. Was this summer? Did this game have winter? Someone should make a game where it is eternally autumn. Where the leaves are stunning, the days warm and the evenings crisp. And boob or back sweat is never to be felt.

  The Honourable Mr Bartlett- Craven was undaunted though. He lectured continuously on a variety of subjects. Currently he was expounding upon the importance of the taxation scale when comes to the various forms of live stock. It seems that chickens should be taxed higher per pound than pork. Though they are smaller they are more efficient inturning grain into meat than any other creature.

  He really was a tedious man.

  It was almost a relief when some boars rushed out.

  Four of them, massive and bristling, erupted from the underbrush with squeals that echoed through the humid air. Their tusks gleamed yellow-white in the dappled sunlight.

  "Finally!" Ayerelia called out, already casting. A bolt of light shot from her hands and caught the lead boar in the shoulder. It stumbled but kept charging.

  I grinned down at Dekka, "Fancy some bacon?"

  She looked up at me, her face split in a happy doggy grin, then she was off, shadows flowing to her as she charged the closest boar. I guess we’re going for that one.

  I dropped the leather bag and pulled my club out of the loop on my belt, it was solid and reassuring in my grip.

  The other boars ranged around us, trying to attack our group from all sides. But three focused on Arjun as he began pulling aggro.

  I really needed to figure out how to get that skill!

  That left one headed for Copperbeard, who was dancing around, strumming, playing the role of rodeo clown to keep the attention off our squishier elves. And the smallest of the bunch was barrelling toward me and Mr. Bartlett-Craven whilst being harassed by a hellhound.

  "I say!" the Right Honourable Bartlett-Craven exclaimed, stumbling backward but somehow keeping his briefcase clutched to his chest. "This is most irregular! I was assured safe passage! The contract explicitly stated—"

  The boar was almost on us. I swung my club and, using [Hit] connected with its shoulder with a satisfying thunk. The creature squealed and veered left.

  "—stated that hazardous conditions would be minimised!" He continued, his voice rising as he scrambled behind me. "Furthermore, the liability clause in section seven clearly indicates—"

  Why was I stuck with him? I tried to put myself between him and the boar, focused on the most helpless member of our party.

  “We are minimising it,” I yelled at him. “Imagine if we weren’t here.”

  “That-that is a good point.” He admitted.

  This boar might be smaller, but it was fast. I missed on my next swing, and it almost got behind.

  “However,” the little man continued, has he stumbled over a rock trying to stay in the middle of our party. “-section seven clearly indicates that any injury sustained would result in a penalty of no less than fifty gold pieces per—"

  I tuned him out; he wasn’t immediately dying, and that was all that mattered. Around us, the party was handling their boars. Darkraven's spells flashed as she shot past Arjun's as his sword glinted as he parried. There was a loud clang of tusk on metal shield. I heard Arjun gasp over the thunder of hooves.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Madar—!” he hissed, catching himself halfway, teeth bared.

  “Was that a prayer or a curse?” Copperbeard asked in a note of scholarly inquiry as he prepared to sing.

  “Yes,” Arjun said tightly, “I could use some healing.” He said loudly.

  “I’m on it” Ayerelia was all business, and I could feel a dome of healing forming at my back.

  That was the one she had been so excited about. She could keep it up for a while. It wasn’t fast healing, but if we fought within it we could all slowly and steadily heal. It was a good spell but it did allow her to be lazier, she didn’t have to keep track of the action so much with a spell like this. It put the onus on us to step into the dome and try to stay there.

  Unfortunately our boar seemed spooked by the magical dome so we had to stay out of it. Dekka leaped at the boar, her jaws closing on its left hock. It thrashed, trying to kick her off. Deciding it couldn’t kick her off it charged ahead. Only my high speed stat allowed to dodge and bring my club down hard on its back. It stumbled, and Dekka went for its throat.

  "Miss! MISS!" Mr. Bartlett-Craven was pointing frantically. "That creature has damaged my bag! The leather is scuffed! Do you have any idea how much that cost? I'll have you know—"

  I glanced back the boar had indeed trampled his leather rucksack. "We are focusing on not dying at the moment.”

  "I am focusing on the breach of contract! Article twelve specifically—"

  I heard a wet slicing sound and a “You got one!” from Darkraven.

  15XP!

  “Some help would be nice” Copperbeard sang.

  “I will as soon a my mana refills.” Darkraven called out.

  “The god’s help those who help themselves,” The dwarf muttered and sang:

  It started slow

  Ohhhh..

  You elvish mages need a top-up?

  Is your mana running low?

  The bard increased the strumming to a frantic pace as he sang and dodged.

  Don’t you fret and don’t you fear

  Copperbeard’s fix is right here,

  Tis Better’n bottled

  If your feelin throttled.

  Puts a spark in yer spell

  Ev’n if yer not doing well

  And a Fizz on your tongue

  Cast and cast til our fight is done!

  Mana Rush —no refunds!

  He ended with an oddly electric sounding chord. That had to be magic and not the instrument itself.

  Blasts of cold energy burst around the fight. I could feel the searing cold as a bolt of frost shot past and hit the boar in front of me in the head. The boar didn’t slow I just stepped aside like a matador and brought my club down. I didn’t even use a spell.

  Its head shattered like meaty glass.

  It was disgusting.

  The boar fell to its knees but its momentum was so great that it slid to the center of our group its tusk grazing my thigh.

  –6 HP. Bleeding (Minor)

  Then its corpse fell over a wet crater oozing blood and brains where its face had been.

  15XP!

  This was too much for poor Mr Bartlett-Craven. He ran out of our protective circle.

  Fucking idiot.

  Though it wasn’t that long ago I had been vomiting over the brains of a rabbit.

  One of the giant swine stopped and watched the easy prey leave the safety of our group with its beady little eyes.

  Shit I was too far away to do anything.

  “Copperbeard, get him back!” Arjun yelled, already moving to intercept a flanking boar with his shield.

  The dwarf was already running, he was the closest. The Justicar turned and saw the boar bearing down on him, to his credit he didn't scream. Instead, he let out a high, nasal “Good heavens!” and, in a moment of pure inspired panic, shoved his precious wooden briefcase directly at the charging boar, trying to ward it off.

  The boar dodged, probably thinking that the flimsy wooden case was a shield of some kind and barreled past. I felt momentary relief as I saw Copperbeard grab the man by his robes and drag him back towards the group.

  Arjun spun and neatly skewered one that was trying to rush him while we were distracted.

  15XP!

  His sword was buried deep in its chest, and he had to let go. Now he only had his shield. Undeterred, he spun and smashed it into the remaining boar, which had a terrier-fuelled hellhound riding with a death grip on its withers. We might have been distracted by trying to save the civilian, but Dekka had never lost sight of the real goal. Kill the boars.

  I have the best if slightly terrifying doggo.

  Running up I aimed at its knee with [Targeted Hit] Its knee went backwards, and it squealed in rage and fear. I jumped out of the way as it tried to get me with a sweep of its tusks.

  It turned, saw Mr. Bartlett-Craven standing there in his expensive robes, briefcase held high as he gestured indignantly at his leather bag ruined its contents trampled into the churned up earth. My leap to safety had exposed the person we were trying to protect.

  Everything happened too fast and too slow at once.

  "—specifically states that all equipment will be properly maintained, and I expect full reimbursement for—"

  The boar's tusk caught him in the side.

  Mr. Bartlett-Craven's eyes went wide. His odd square spectacles fell off, tumbling through the air. The briefcase dropped from his hands, papers scattering.

  He made a small, surprised sound—not even a scream, just a confused "oh"—and crumpled.

  The boar shook its head, and the Mr. Bartlett-Craven's body fell limply to the forest floor.

  Ayerelia had cast [Heal] but it was too late.

  YOU HAVE FAILED THE COURT HOUSE QUEST - You have failed to escort the Justicar safely to the town of Engle.

  Darkraven uttered something that sounded suspiciously like a swear word and cast [Frost Bolt] at the boar before it could spin and gore anyone else. She must have put a lot of mana into it because the boar just kind of just fell over.

  Dekka grabbed it by the throat and shook. Its hide was thick and it took her a few moments to dispatch it. I would have thought maybe Darkraven had done it in but the XP notification made it clear it had been my dog.

  0.15XP!

  The area was silent.

  We gathered around the body of the Justicar. His glasses were broken beside him, his robes were red with blood and filthy from the dirt. Even though I barely knew the man I knew he would have hated looking so unkept.

  Unlike the highway man who had died, ages ago, he didn’t disappear. His body remained.

  A fly landed on him and walked across his face. Did it know he was dead? It wasn’t even a real fly. But it moved across his lips like a real fly. I was suddenly revolted. This didn’t look like just a game dead body. It looked like a real dead body. He had been a person only a few moments ago. And now a fly was contemplating raising its family in him.

  “What do we do now?” Darkraven asked, subdued.

  Arjun bent over and closed the dead man’s eyes and shooed away the fly.

  It came right back.

  “Do we take the body back?” Darkraven persisted.

  “Why?” Asked Ayerelia. “Its just an NPC.”

  Copperbeard was looking troubled. “Aye, but it seems wrong to leave him out here.”

  Arjun nodded.

  “Well I am not carrying him.” Ayerelia asserted. “His intestine or something is leaking.” She pointed at his abdomen.

  She was right. And as wrong as it felt to just leave him I didn’t want to carry him. And it’s not like he could get any deader.

  “We could bury him.” I suggested.

  Arjun wordlessly went and got his sword out of the body of the swine.

  “With what shovels?” Ayerelia said losing patience.

  “What about a cairn?” Copperbeard said.

  We all gathered rocks, even Ayerelia and covered the body of the Right honourable Edmund Bartlett-Craven. Darkraven even made a little cross with a couple of sticks and stuck it in the pile of rocks.

  “Whatever.” Ayerelia said. “I am going to fast travel back to Bistmore. We will need to pick up the quest again.”

  “Not today though?” Asked Darkraven.

  “No there isn’t enough time. I am not sure of my schedule. I will message the group chat.” And with that the elf was gone.

  Darkraven looked sadly at the pile of stones and then she too winked out.

  Copperbeard looked awkward, like he wanted to do more but wasn’t sure what. Then it was just Arjun and I. The fighter looked disturbed.

  He stood a long while staring at the mound of stones. His hand tightened on his sword hilt, still bloody from the fight.

  Then he bent, touched the cairn with two fingers, and brought them to his forehead. A small, old motion. Reverence, muscle memory.

  Quietly, he said, “Ram nam satya hai.”

  He looked self-conscious. “That’s what we say when someone passes.”

  “It sounded … right,” I said, and meant it. “It felt wrong not to have any sort of service for him. Is that weird?”

  “Not weird. But the whole thing feels … I don’t know ...” He trailed off and we stood side by side looking at the pile of dirty grey stones. “In the world I grew up in, we burn the body. Return it to the elements. Fire, air, water, earth. Here-” He gestured at the cairn. “Here, this was the best we could do.”

  A fly landed again. He shooed it off. It came back. He sighed.

  “Maybe his spirit’s waiting for a release trigger,” he whispered. “Maybe this world forgot to write him an afterlife.”

  He bowed again, palms pressed together, murmured something longer, a fragment of Sanskrit that sounded like prayer, and then straightened.

  I didn’t ask what it meant. I could tell from his face it wasn’t for me. But I noticed he had assumed the NPC had a spirit, a soul.

  Ok, they were right. Escort quests were the worst.